#taken from my highest window

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | one

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. warnings/tags: au, age gap [20 something years diff], alcohol consumption, irrational sexual tension, smut, sex in a public place w/ a stranger [and i'm talking depraved/zero time wasted/known you for thirty minutes type strangers], oral [f receiving], protected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, a spot of degradation + misogynistic language, a split second of soft!joel, you get the picture word count: 5.9k series masterlist | main masterlist a/n: my friends.... oh boy, oh boy. this series is a complete au, self-indulgent, fantasy land idea that has plagued me for weeks. horny academic brain rot to the highest degree. hope some of you enjoy it with me x

Friday.

You sit with three almost strangers.

Listen to them talk about their summers and their families and their degrees as you twirl a straw around your half-empty glass, disrupting the melting ice as you try to wrap your head around what a master’s in environmental engineering might entail. One of them, the only man at the table, takes great pleasure in explaining it to you all for the second time. You take mental notes and hope he’s not expecting you to remember words like sparging and leachate.

They do ask you about your undergrad, and your internship, nodding and smiling curiously. They don’t ask what type of job you plan on getting after your postgrad, which is a welcome relief. The bombardment of questions from immediate and extended family is enough.

Cousins wondering aloud, saying you study Greek mythology, right?

Or your grandfather, before he died, berating you ad nauseam at family events about what’re you gonna do, kid? Be a historian? There’s no money in being a historian. Now, being a lawyer, that’s where the money is.

And you’d respond no, not quite Greek mythology, and no, I don’t plan on being a historian, as you gorge yourself on red wine and triscuits and wait for Christmas to end.

Thankfully you aren’t expected to rehash these scenarios with your almost strangers, who routinely ask a few well-mannered questions and then go back to talking about themselves.

After a week of living with them, in a new house, and a new city, you’re becoming used to their company. The way the four of you commune lazily in the kitchen most mornings, swathed in the light streaming through a window above the sink, making idle small talk as you wait for coffee to brew. How Pete and Trin study opposite each other at the dining table, while Nora prefers to spread her limbs across the couch, laptop balanced precariously on her stomach. She’s doing her master’s in education, which she describes as an expensive way to get a pay rise. She’s kind, with wild curly hair and dark humour, and is easily your favourite of your new roommates.

It was her idea to go out that night. One last hurrah, she’d called it. Before we enter the final circle of academic hell next week. And between four overworked, already burnt-out, twenty-something students, it hadn’t taken much convincing before you were sharing three bottles of wine and hightailing it to the bar with the highest Yelp rating.

The late August air is dry; a faint warmth that follows you into a quaint bar in downtown Biddeford. The space is small and crowded with patrons, with dim overhead lighting that casts a soft glow across the booth you’re crammed into. A thin sheen of sweat coats your skin, and your shirt sticks to your back uncomfortably. The others seem unbothered by the heat, nursing sweaty glasses and discussing how different Maine is from where they all grew up. You involve yourself here and there, offering up stories about your family and friends from back home, and suddenly an hour has passed, and then another, and you’re pleasantly tipsy, body humming as alcohol spreads its way through your veins, and your latest drink is practically empty, spare a few melting ice cubes.

“I need another drink,” you tell Nora, who nods absently before turning her attention back to the others.

You wander toward the bar, fumbling for your phone as you go. Fall in between two leather cushioned stools and rest your elbows atop the sleek wooden counter. Check your bank account and mentally traverse the list of reasons for returning to student-life when you see the number staring back at you. I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, your internal monologue runs, although you could admit how sweet a solicitor’s pay check would feel right now.

It’s a low, Southern drawl that pulls you from your reverie.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Deep. With a rough, lilting quality that piques your interest and has your eyes drifting upward from your phone screen.

You notice his body first; a tall frame with thick arms, thick shoulders, thick neck. A navy-blue t-shirt that stretches thin around his biceps, hugging the tan skin there. And then you look higher, and—oh.

Your heart stutters a beat out of time as you take in his face. Loose brown curls that are just long enough to hang across his forehead. Dark, almond-shaped brown eyes. So dark they almost appear black on the first glance. The strong nose and dark hair across his jaw, dappled with streaks of grey. A moustache resting atop a set of dark pink lips. Gone are thoughts of academia, of bank accounts, of your almost strangers. All replaced in an instant by wanton, pulsating desire.

Something like surprise cuts across his face, but it disappears just as quickly. In a far recess of your brain, you register that he must be at least twenty years older than you. You wilfully ignore the thought, perfectly content to continue admiring him.

A dark eyebrow ticks upward then, and you realise you haven’t responded.

“No,” you rush, flashing him a quick smile. “All yours.”

He gives you a pleased nod, a hint of a smirk passing over his lips as he sits down. He looks vaguely uncomfortable perched on the tall chair, all six-foot-something of him cramped onto such a small cushion. You cast a single glance back towards the booth, and then slip onto the stool beside him.

Silence descends between you for a moment. A song by The Eagles plays faintly, but you can’t figure which one - too distracted to make out the lyrics. You take a careful sip of the melted ice at the bottom of your glass, taste the last remnants of tequila in it, and watch him out of the corner of your eye.

“’m Joel,” that accent rings again, sending a volt of warmth through your chest.

You tell him your name, fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt. If he notices the tension in your posture, he doesn’t let on. “You a Southern man, Joel?” The name feels warm on your tongue. Soft and silken like honey.

“S’it that obvious?” he grins crookedly, pink lips tearing back to reveal a straight white smile.

“An accent like that is hard to ignore,” you smirk. “It’s not a bad thing.”

‘Thought it would fade a little since I moved here,” he explains. “Y'can take the man outta Texas, but… you know.”

You hum, eyes alight as you watch him speak. His mouth is beautiful, lips parting around prolonged vowels.

“You here alone?” he asks.

“No,” you say. “With friends.”

“Let me guess,” Joel tilts his body, glancing around the bar. His shirt shifts with the movement, hem raising to reveal the slightest hint of a soft, tanned stomach. He points somewhere over your shoulder. You shut your mouth, careful not to gawp. “Them.”

You turn, a soft laugh of surprise bubbling up through your chest when you spy the bachelorette party set up across the bar. Women dressed in gaudy shades of pink. One of them with a sash—reading Jenny’s Big Day—across her chest, a short veil pinned to her head, and an empty champagne glass clutched in her fist. One of them teary-eyed, gripping the bride’s arm and yelling something in her ear, sloshing champagne onto herself all the while.

“You got me,” you turn back to him with a grin. Hold your hands up in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t be caught dead missing Jennifer’s last night as a free woman.”

The corners of his eyes crease, entire face blossoming into a smile now. He has a dimple on his right cheek.

“Knew you were a good girl,” he nods. Says the words in a matter-of-fact tone. Something twists in your stomach, and your palms dampen. You wet your lips quickly and don’t back down from his gaze, allowing the corner of your mouth to kick up a little.

“And you?”

His eyebrows raise in a silent question.

“Who’re you here with?” you clarify.

“Just you, darlin’,” he says, left eye dropping in a quick wink.

It's easy with him, you find, and the two of you sit there for a while; exchanging small talk about Maine, the hot weather, the music at the bar, slipping in flirtatious comments that are about as subtle as a neon sign, until he finally spies the empty glass in your hand.

“What are you drinkin’?” he asks.  

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you say, hoping it doesn’t come across too eager. He seems pleased though. There’s something provocative to his gaze, a teasing warmth that raises the temperature of your skin wherever he looks. But whatever it is, it’s gone by the time he reaches across the bar for the bound beverage list.

He peers at the menu, squinting ever-so-slightly to see through the dim lighting of the bar. The skin beside his eyes is soft and creased with age, crow’s feet that hint at years of laughter and smiles. You wonder again how old he is. How much older than you.

“Forget your glasses?” you tease, testing the waters.

Joel’s eyes flash up to yours. The muscle in his jaw ticks.

“Watch it,” he says. There’s a playful note in his voice, but it rings deeper somehow—a hint of a warning.   

Your thighs squeeze together on the stool, warm sweaty skin peeling off the tacky leather as you move. His eyes dart to the bare skin of your legs, and then back to the menu.

He orders you both a whiskey, and a moment later the bartender is sliding a crystal tumbler in front of you. A finger of amber liquid with a single grandiose sphere of ice resting in it. Fancy.

“Cheers,” he holds his glass out. You knock yours against it gently before taking a short sip, fighting a grimace as it burns down your throat.

He watches your face closely, tries to gage your reaction. You take another sip, holding strong in your efforts to show him that you can handle it. Whatever he wants to give to you, you can handle.

“So what brings you here?” he asks. You notice how large the glass feels in your palm, and how small it appears in his. Long, thick fingers wrap around the object, dwarfing it. He takes a sip, and you watch him swallow. His Adam’s apple bobs, and you want to graze your teeth across it.

“To the bar or to Maine?”

“Either.”

“Well, I just moved into town last week, from the West Coast. It’s actually my first week back in the US; I was travelling before the big move.”

“Busy girl,” his tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. You blink. “Travellin’?”

“I was in Greece,” you explain, sip your whiskey and definitely don’t grimace at the harsh taste. “For a month or so.”

“A month in Greece?” His eyebrows raise and he does a low, impressed whistle that has your stare zeroing in on his mouth.

“Ever been?” you ask faintly.

“No,” his reply is swift. “Never had much interest.”

And you’re nodding absentmindedly, but you can’t seem to drag your stare away from his mouth as he speaks. The trance is only broken when he raises his glass for another sip, and you shake yourself out of it, eyes shifting to stare into his brown orbs once more. They’re darker than you remembered, gaze loaded as he looks back at you. The tension was palpable when you first sat together, but now it feels impossible to ignore; an electric tangle of wire between the two of you that just keeps getting shorter and shorter. And you think, fuck it, if you’re about to descend into the final circle of academic hell, why not have a little fun?

“Can I tell you something, Joel?”

You say it softly, make your voice as sultry as possible. He watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes sparkling with intrigue. And then his mouth tilts into a sort of knowing smirk, and he’s nodding.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” you confess.

He hums, smirk broadening.

Sets his glass down on the bar top with a soft clink, and then lowers his hand to the bare skin of your knee. You gasp at the contact, nerves fraught. The callouses on his fingers scrape against your skin in slow, rhythmic circles, goosebumps raising in their wake. His fingers are long, and as he tenses them over you, squeezing your knee once, you see the way deep blue veins flex beneath the skin, hot blood pumping through him. Your stomach turns molten.

“Is that all?” he asks, a taunting lilt to his voice.

Your mouth is dry, eyes wide as you sense the proposition in his words. The hint of something darker—something greedy—in his gaze.

“No,” you say definitively. “That’s not all.”

A sharp tut escapes his mouth, fingertips dragging higher on your leg as he shakes his head. “Do you have any idea how old I am?”

“Don’t look a day over forty,” you hazard a guess, resting your shoe onto the rung of his stool, using the leverage to drag yours closer. Both your legs are between his now, thighs bracketing thighs. The denim of his jeans scrapes against your outer thighs, and you shiver. His hand pauses, fingertips just shy of the hem of your skirt.

Joel wets his lips. “Guess again, sweetheart.”

A low heat licks at the base of your spine, spreading its way through your veins until you feel like you could combust at any given moment. Fuck it.

“Don’t care,” you mutter, and drape your hand over his. You trace your nails over his skin, feel how the bones shift underneath it, how warm he is. He still doesn’t move, face pensive as he regards you. You arch an eyebrow. “You approached me, you know.”

His lips purse tightly. Another squeeze to your thigh, fingers moving again. “I know.”

Driven by boldness, by arcane desire, by animalistic instinct, you lean forward on your barstool and rest your hands atop the thick expanse of his thighs. Hear his breath kick as your nose traces the side of his square jaw, lips settling at the shell of his ear. Right at the soft, sloping crest of his neck. And you whisper those same words again, quiet enough that no one in the world can hear it but him, can I tell you something? 

Your movement drove his hand higher on your thigh, the heavy weight of it now settled beneath your skirt, fingertips skimming the indent where your leg meets your hip, toying at the soft fabric of your underwear there. Painfully close to where you want him.

“Yes,” his deep voice rumbles.

Ever so slowly, your tongue slides out of your mouth to trail against his earlobe. Joel’s thighs tense beneath your palms, and you roll the balls of your thumbs against the muscles there.

“I want to kiss you,” you murmur. “So I’m going to. And then I want you to fuck me, just like I know you want to.” Your teeth graze his lobe, and you bite it once, gently, before rearing your face back to peer at him. “Hmm?”

The muscle in his jaw jumps, shifting beneath the skin, and instead of responding verbally he cups your face with a rough hand. Cool drops of condensation from the glass have stuck to his fingers, and the liquid smears across your skin as he cradles your jaw and draws your mouth to his.

Soft lips envelop yours, the coarse hairs of his moustache tickling your face as he steals the breath from your lungs. And when you lick into his mouth you can taste peppermint on his teeth, and then that oh so familiar whiskey tang across his tongue. You don’t mind the taste so much when it’s on his lips.

You nuzzle closer, dig your fingertips firmer into his thighs and grin when a deep groan falls from his mouth into yours. Wet heat pools between your thighs, liquid fire that stokes at your insides, begging for more more more of him. And, as if he can read your mind, Joel is dragging his mouth away, teeth grazing against your swollen bottom lip as he departs.

“Bathroom,” he says, voice low and commanding. “Now.”

Shock and excitement lace your blood, the proposition of something so dirty, so lewd, making your heart race. With your pulse a dull, thrashing roar in your ears, you allow Joel to help you down from your stool. Your legs feel unsteady now that you’re back on solid ground. Gripping your hand, dwarfing it in his, Joel tugs you away from the bar top and towards an obscured hallway. You amble past the bachelorette party, down the dark hall and then he’s pressing a dark hand against the ambulant bathroom door and dragging you inside, sliding the lock shut behind you.

Joel’s on you in a second, arms bracketing you against the door as his wet mouth slips over yours. His hands are so big, all wide palms and long fingers splaying across the entirety of your back, tucking you against his solid chest. He bunches your shirt in his hand, twisting the material between his fingers as he pushes into your mouth. Tongue hot and wet, gliding against your teeth, your tongue, tasting you, devouring you. there’s nothing polite about it. No more wariness, no more hesitation, no more eyes that could see the two of you at the bar. He’s insatiable, touching you everywhere he possibly can, and even then it doesn’t seem like enough for him.

“Fuck, I want you,” you say against his mouth. He makes a low sound in response, and one of his palms lower to grab a handful of your ass, dragging your hips against his. You can feel him, hot and hard, straining in the confines of his jeans. Your hand presses into the crevice between your bodies to palm him through the material, grinning into the kiss when he groans. His lips trail a slick path across your cheek, past your jaw.

“Gonna let me fuck you here?” his hot breath fans across your neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty sweat there.

“Yeah,” you say. “Fuck—yes.”

He steps back, dragging you with him, and then he’s turning you around so that you’re facing the mirror. Your hips dig into the sink, and he’s holding you there, forcing you to stare at your reflection as he bites and licks and sucks down your neck with reckless abandon, leaving marks in his wake. There’s a low, steady throbbing at the apex of your thighs, and you can feel how your underwear clings to your skin, damp and ruined. You whimper, tilt your chin up to give him access to more skin. He grinds against your ass in response, and then he’s crouching down on the ground behind you.

Fast hands push your skirt up over your hips and then flare across your ass, massaging the flesh there. You feel a nip of teeth against the sensitive skin there and flinch into the porcelain. He makes quick work of dragging your underwear down to dangle precariously at your knees. And then long fingers are spreading you apart, revealing you to him. You tilt your hips back so he can see more. Moan at the sensation of cool air rushing to meet your dripping core.

You think you can hear him speaking, but can’t be sure over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and the low music playing in the bar. And then it doesn’t matter anymore, because you can feel his hot tongue glide through your folds, parting you like the sea. He buries his face in you, nose nudging against your asshole as his tongue swipes at your clit, moaning roughly as he absorbs the taste of you. You’re gasping, hooded eyes staring back at you in the mirror, and this time you can definitely hear him saying you’re so fuckin’ wet. The flat of his tongue smears from your clit to your entrance, and then he’s sinking it inside you. You reach behind your back and card your fingers through his hair, gripping the salt and pepper curls between your fingers and holding him against you. Joel doesn’t complain, groaning as you tug on his locks in encouragement, in fucking desperation.

Your thighs tremble where they bracket his head, threatening to squeeze around him at any moment if it weren’t for his vice grip keeping your spread apart. A choked sob of a moan claws its way out of your throat and then he’s standing again, chest against your back as you hear the clink of his belt coming undone, and he’s saying, I know, I know, you need it so bad, don’t you?

Your hand skirts around the firm sink and slips between your thighs, fingertips ghosting over your throbbing clit. The sound of foil crinkling echoes around the room, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh as he rolls the condom down his length. You peek over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, eyes widening as you take in the sheer size of his length. It’s long, with a prominent vein running from base to tip. It pulses, raging beneath the skin, practically daring you to drop down and run your tongue along the length of it. And you would if you thought he’d let you.

“Shit,” you breathe, skin tingling with a fresh wave of nerves and anticipation.

“It’s alright,” his voice is a low rasp, filling your ears like molasses, and his hand is rising to push stray hairs out of your face. “So fuckin’ wet f’me, I know you can take it, honey. You gonna show me how good you take co—”

He cuts himself off, eyes narrowing as he spots your fingers shifting between your thighs.

“So impatient,” he smacks your hand away with a grunt. “Silly little slut, can’t wait just a minute for me?”

A broken moan falls from your lips, shameful heat soaring through your chest. You shouldn’t love the way that word sounds falling from his lips, shouldn’t be so turned on by it, but you can feel how the ache in your core intensifies, and so you push your hips back against him.

“’m sorry,” you whine pitifully.

“You want it that bad?” Joel asks. His lips brush your earlobe as he nudges the thick head of his cock between your folds, gliding it through your slick once, twice, before notching himself at your entrance.

“I want it,” you gasp. “Wanted it from the second I saw you, Joel, please, pleas—”

Joel curses under his breath and loops a hand around your front, pushing the neckline of your shirt down to reveal your left breast. He slips his palm underneath the cup of your bra, long fingers pinching at the peaked bud of your nipple. Your skin burns under the attention, and you push your chest further into his hold.

“Shit,” he grunts, beginning to press himself inside. “I wanna fuckin’—wreck you, sweetheart.” 

“Whatever you want,” you’re pleading, arching your back for him. Your fingers tighten around porcelain, bracing yourself. “Give it to me.”

You hear a muted, dark chuckle before Joel says, “Whatever I want, huh?”

And then he’s pressing inside you with a single, harsh thrust. His thighs come flush with yours and you gasp, face twisting at the sharp sting. The weight of him inside you is heavy, and you squirm at the intrusion, shifting on your feet. He allows you a moment—just a moment—to adjust to him, before he’s moving.

Joel finds a pace he likes and sets it. Heavy, unrelenting, expert rolls of his hips that have his tip brushing against the opening of your cervix with every shift forward. The air fills with harsh sounds of skin smacking against skin, and stilted moans and spilling from your lips as your hipbones collide rhythmically with the sink.

“Christ,” he spits, hand leaving your breast to grip your jaw. He forces your face forward, pace never slowing. “Fuckin’ look at you.”

You do as your told, gazing at yourself in the mirror. And you look wrecked. Hair a wild halo around your head, makeup smudged around your eyes and mouth, lips swollen and shiny with spit.

“Bein’ so—fuckin’—good,” he punctuates the words with his thrusts. His thumb digs into your cheek, and you can see him grinning in the mirror, lips peeled back to reveal that fucking perfect smile. “Dirty little thing, lettin’ a stranger fuck you like this.”

You mewl in response, stomach tensing as his cock grazes a particularly sensitive spot within you. Joel notices and seizes your waist, one hand holding you in place and the other falling to rub your clit while he pistons into you from behind.

“Shit,” you cry, eyes pinching shut as the intense medley of pleasure and pain begins to overwhelm you. Your orgasm claws its way up your chest.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” he’s panting. “Can you feel you squeezin’ me, sweetheart. Go on, give it t’me, show me how wet that pretty pussy gets when you come.”

“Oh, fuck, oh—oh god, Joel.”

Your lungs feel empty, chest on fire as you rake in rapid breaths. Your entire body is constricting, muscles in your stomach drawn tight as you press firmer against the sink, thighs shaking with every impact of his hips against the plush of your ass. The pressure makes your head spin. And then something in the base of your spine snaps, and you’re falling apart in his grasp. Joel curses behind you, but the sound is faint, almost inaudible over the ringing in your ears. Your vision goes white, body shifting forward as he fucks you through the high.

And even as you begin to come down, muscles going lax and body slumping against the sink, Joel is relentless. He uses you; gripping your hips to keep them tilted at the perfect angle, and just fucking wrecks you, exactly like he said he wanted to. A stream of profanities fill the air as his movements become disjointed, and you know he’s close. Can feel the way his cock twitches inside you, desperate for release. You tilt your face to the side and stare at him over your shoulder. Those dark eyes meet yours and his face crumbles, hand reaching to grip your shoulder and hold you down as he nears the precipice. You rut your ass back against him and he almost shouts.

“Fuck,” he growls. “That’s it, that’s it..”

And then he’s coming, cock jerking inside you in sporadic movements, and you’re wishing he hadn’t worn a condom so you could feel the heat of him spread inside your cunt. It’s intense, the yearning you feel to have him dripping out of you once he’s gone. But you settle for watching his face through bleary eyes, admiring the way his lips part and chin tilts towards the ceiling, eyes pinching closed as his body convulses against you. 

For an all too brief moment, Joel doesn’t move. He slumps against your back, forehead resting in the gap between your shoulder blades, and just breathes. Haggard, drawn out exhales that send whisps of your hair flying forward into your face but you don’t care, too blissed out and relaxed underneath his weight to say anything. And then he’s straightening, and you gasp in unison as he grips your waist and slips out of you. There’s a determined ache between your thighs, pussy clenching around his absence, missing the weight of him already.

You sag onto the cold surface. Your mind is a blur, senses dulled from the intensity of your orgasm. The music in the bar has increased, and you imagine that your roommates must be wondering where you are, but can’t bring yourself to care all that much. You can hear him throw the condom into the trash, then there’s a low rustling as he drags his boxers and jeans back up his legs. Body trembling, you close your eyes and wait. Wait to hear the door open and close as he steps out, and leaves you in the bathroom alone, as you know he inevitably will.

But instead, you feel those hands, almost familiar now, grazing your back. They drag your panties back up and smooth your rumpled skirt down over your ass.

“Hey,” a soothing voice murmurs. “You good?”

You peer at him over your shoulder, uncontained surprise no doubt evident in your face. Joel’s expression is soft; cautious. He grips your shoulder and pulls you up, straightening your body. Drags a thumb over the corner of your mouth, wiping away the lipstick smudged there. His touches are so gentle, so tender, in comparison to a few moments ago. It almost gives you whiplash, and yet you find yourself melting under his gaze, because fuck, he’s handsome. 

“I’m good,” you breathe, and he bares his teeth in a smile, cupping your jaw.

“Sweet girl,” Joel says. His head shakes once, slowly, eyes darting across your features, as if trying to memorise them. “I’m gonna remember this.”

You heart is in your throat all over again.

Your fingers fumble to adjust your top, smoothing it out as you smile, humming, “Yeah… yeah, I think I will too.”

A heady silence swells between you. His thumb brushes along your lower lip again, eyes watching the way your swollen mouth yields to his touch. The tip of your tongue slides out and glides over the tip of his digit, just for a second.

“Probably got your friends all worried,” Joel says then, hand dropping to his side. “Must be wonderin’ where you got to.”

You swallow down the disappointment you feel. It burns its way down your throat and into your stomach, not unlike the whiskey had. I don’t care, you want to say. Take me home with you. But you nod and agree. Glance in the mirror and rake numb fingers through bird’s nest hair, trying to tame your wild appearance. You swear you feel his hand graze the hem of your skirt one last time, playing with the soft material while he stares at you in the mirror.

The bubble pops as he unlocks the door, outside sounds rushing in through the gap, infiltrating the space that once smelt like sex and lust and now just feels like any other room. Joel doesn’t kiss you again. Doesn’t touch you. He steps into the hall, and you follow him out. And when he trails toward one side of the bar, with a final lingering glance at you over his shoulder, you begrudgingly head in the opposite direction to the booth, where your almost strangers await you with curious eyes and pinched brows.

Tuesday.

You feel hungover on the day of your first lecture.

A dull ache blossoms behind your left eye, a persistent reminder of how little sleep you had the night before. Your fingers wrap tightly around a tall styrofoam cup, and you take slow mouthfuls of the black coffee inside, attempting to savour the liquid gold, and letting the caffeine act as a saving grace for as long as possible.

You were normally so much better than this, too. Years had passed since your undergrad, and in the past you’d prided yourself on being punctual and prepared. But apparently one of the professors for this semester had it out for you, because when the required weekly prep work for your 9 o’clock Tuesday morning lecture was released the day prior, you were stunned to find that it included an entire fucking book.

After spending a dutiful two hours going over the weekly notes and required journal articles, you’d found yourself glaring at three sentences, written casually at the bottom of the professor’s notes.

Also, read Hesiod’s ‘Theogony’. It will do you well to have these ideas and themes fresh as you undertake the first weeks of this class. See you tomorrow.

Cue you staying up until two am reading fucking Theogony, and walking to your first lecture with a near-permanent yawn sprawled across your face.  

As you approach history commons, a guy wearing a bottle green shirt that reads UNIVERSITY OF NEW ENGLAND in garish gold lettering shakes a pamphlet in your direction. It has a picture of a girl in a tiny athletic uniform on the front, preparing to spike a volleyball. You avoid eye contact and sidestep him quickly, continuing into the building.

The theatre room is easy enough to find.

Thirty odd chairs line the space on an incline, all facing toward a desk at the front of the room. A projector hangs from the ceiling, displaying the beginning of a slide show on a white wall. The slide is a muted beige colour, with stark black lettering that spells out: The Language and Literature of the Odyssey and the Aeneid.

Your professor stands with his back to the room, shuffling through a myriad of notebooks and loose-leaf pages splayed across the desk. Standard.

You traipse your way up the stairs, buoyed along by the steady stream of other students shuffling into the room, and take a seat a few rows from the front. Not too far back that you seem disinterested, and not so close that your professor will notice you falling asleep on the first day.

You open your notes on your laptop and then slump back into your chair, slurping down the final morsels of coffee in your cup before discarding it to the floor by your feet. And then the room quietens as a final group of students file in, heavy door swinging closed behind them, and you allow your eyes to rest upon the man at the foot of the space.

He’s tall. It’s impossible not to notice that first. Tall and broad. A thin white dress shirt stretches across the arch of his back, fighting to pull free from where it’s tucked neatly into the waist of his brown pants. From where you’re seated, you can see a dark head of hair shaking side to side every few moments, the man muttering inaudibly as he peers down at his notes.

You glance down at your laptop again. Watch your cursor blink against the white screen. And then you hear it.

“Alright folks,” an all too familiar voice drawls. “Let’s get down to it.”

You stiffen in your chair. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, palms going damp as a memory flits through your brain. One of your own voice.

An accent like that is hard to ignore.

You can’t make out what he’s saying anymore, every word overpowered by the sudden roar of your own heartbeat in your ears.

Slowly—so fucking slowly—you peel your eyes away from your laptop and glance upward.

And there he is, in all his glory. Pearly white smile. Strong jaw. Dark eyes.

Joel… your professor.

Fuck.  

thank you for reading!! x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #ALP

[kadwrites]

a man with a reputation | T.S

read the next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; you cannot talk your way out of this , for the first time in your life, you're given no choice.

warnings ; angst, cursing, mild violence i guess??? , arranged marriage trope.

a/n ; maybe i'll turn this into a series? who knows, let me know what you think <3. also the accent is a mess, but im trying.

_

"no!" your eyes are wide , glassy with anger filled tears "i will not be treated like some piece of land."

"would you listen? your father and i are thinking of your future." you mother is looking at you with a stern face, sitting beside your father as you stand in front of them

"what future do you think i'll 'ave with thomas fucking shelby?" you raise your voice

"do not speak to me like that , i am your mother."

"we're old, i'm sick with god knows how many illnesses." your father speaks, his cane in his hand as he leans against it, still on the sofa

"don't start with that talk" you shake your head with a chuckle, you sniffle and turn your head away

"i don't know if i'll live another day , i am too sick to work, too sick to care for the farm, there is nothing left for me to give you" he speaks slowly with a serious voice, and it makes your heart sink "this isn't a joke or some game, i've survived the war and lived long enough to see all of you grow , but i know that my time is near, i cannot risk dying and leaving you with nothing"

your father never spoke to you like that, he was always jovial , happy.

it seems like it hits you for the first time, how much your parents have aged, how much the illness took from your father, how his sicknesses have changed him.

"celest got to marry who she chose and so did oliver and so did abraham, but i don't get to do that? i dont get to choose my own husband?" your tears start falling, your voice cracks

"i need to know you'll be taken care of , that you'll be in good hands when im dead and gone."

"and you think his hands are the good hands you speak of?" you cant help the humorless smile that graces your face, hot tears stain your cheek "you can't be serious"

"he is the most feared man in birmingham," your mother chimes in

"you are willing to sell your daughter! to some gangster!" you raise your voice again

your mother stands and faces you

"i am not selling you off, i am securing you a future, with a wealthy man, who can give you everything you can possibly want. you'll live like royalty" her words come through gritted teeth "i am not giving you away to some old pig, you're marrying a respectable man, a man with a reputation."

"a reputation? don't you know what 'appened to his first wife ? you are securing me a grave" you come nose to nose with your mother, both of you almost vibrating in anger "you are killing me is what you're doing, you're selling me off to the highest bidder"

the next thing you hear is the sound of your mother's palm against your cheek, the sound of the slap echos throughout the empty house, your head is turned, your cheek stings

your parents never laid a hand on you, even as a rebellious teenager when they caught you sneaking out the window or smoking on the roof.

your head turns slowly, eyes wide as you look at your mother, she looks mortified at her own actions,

you turn and run off and up the stairs to your room, hearing your father yell at your mother for what shes done.

at some point during the night, you had fallen asleep, but not for long. you were awake when the sun rose, your back pressed against your bed frame, looking ahead at the painting on the wall, it was a family portrait, and you were sitting on your father's lap.

you knew your sister was here when you heard the sounds of her five children, running around the house.

she knocks softly but doesn't bother to wait for an answer when she opens the door after a few seconds, she walks slowly, and sees you on the bed.

your eyes stuck on the portrait , your face almost emotionless, your tears have dried and stained your cheeks, she wonders for how long you cried, your back against the wood of the bed frame, no pillow thrown in her direction for waking you up, no annoyed words saying "you couldn't fucking come in the afternoon?" . the curtains are parted, letting the light in, which is very unusual for you.

you hear the bed creek under her weight when she gets on it, laying next to you

"i heard about yesterday" she says softly, her head turned to look at you

you only glance at her , but your head doesn't turn, then you look back at the portrait

"they're doing this for you, they want whats best for you." she's not sure if it is you she's trying to reassure you or herself , this wasn't ever supposed to happen.

her little sister was supposed to marry a man she wanted, a simple man, a man capable of love

you hum, or you make a sound at least , acknowledging her.

"he isn't all that bad, you know."

a weak chuckle escapes you at her words "in what world is thomas shelby not a bad person?" your voice is hoarse , from screaming and crying all night long no doubt.

"he can give you a good life."

"ya 'ave a good life don't you? with the man you chose, the man you love." your gaze doesn't move, still staring at the painting "its not fair, you lot got to be happy, and i don't."

"ya don't know that." her voice is full of sympathy or maybe pity, you didn't want to know.

you finally turn to your sister, "do you honestly think that i can be happy with 'im ?"

your sister hesitates , she licks her lips "he's a powerful man."

you chuckle at that too "that tends to 'appen when you're a gangster."

"i tried with them, i really did." her voice is weak too, it cracks.

your eyes well with tears again, you didn't know you could even cry anymore "i know..." your voice is a whisper

you knew she'd be against it, she wouldn't agree, maybe oliver would tell you to consider it, abraham would too, just to please your father.

but celest wouldn't

"what are ya goin' to do?" she whispers back, her tears start rolling too

"what can i do?" you ask "i dont 'ave any other choice"

she looks at you as if she didn't expect that. you were always stubborn, always talking your way out of anything you didn't want, you always got your way with your parents, thats what she taught you.

but this time, you don't want to fight back.

"you're goin' through with it?"

"i cant live knowing i disobeyed my father's dying wish."

your father was sick, and getting worse everyday. you were a stubborn woman, but the little girl inside of you couldn't bear to disobey her father.

celest wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you to her chest, her hands runs up and down your arm , like she did when abraham would bother you to tears, or when oliver wouldn't let you play with him.

"at least he's easy on the eyes, eh?" she tries desperately to lighten the mood, her lips pressed to your forehead

" hes old." you say with a weak laugh

"hes older, not old." she corrects, with a laugh too.

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #kadwrites #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction

[jhuzen]

married life [m.reader]

this is me taking the first step in creating the househusband hcs of our tall hsr men for us gays and bi kings. happy pride ansismdkf (i mean to say that also in haitham’s post bUT OH WELL). anyway, i still hate luocha. otto trauma so true so real (honestly, his only saving grace in mhy games is ayato because he’s not blond). today, we have ourselves some househusbands.

𖦹 househusband hcs with gepard, sampo, jing yuan, blade, dan heng, caelus and old man welt, no luocha but i’m open to be convinced why i should start loving him, mostly fluff, domestic stuff, modern au though… aren’t they more modern if they can travel the space? huh. normal world au then. forgot to add that ceo reader is implied

GEPARD LANDAU

He’s a very reluctant househusband at first, actually. He’s one who firmly believes that relationships are a team effort (and they are and should be), and thinks that it wouldn’t hurt for the both of you to work together. Of course, you encourage him regardless, and with both of your career-oriented selves, you were basically the couple that could foster a ten or so children and still be financially sound.

Serval is the one who convinced Gepard to lay low a little in his job and relax for once. You’re making a decent income a month — enough for you to be the only one working and still have a comfortable life together.

You have to thank your sister-in-law and her craftiness. She wasn’t Gepard’s sister for nothing. She knew your husband more than anyone and knew that he was too down bad to even refuse in entertaining the thought of not taking care of you. All she had to do was do a little convincing.

“If I were [Name], I sure wouldn’t mind coming home to a nice meal like this every night,” she’d muse with a hum while she ate off of Gepard’s cooking. He came home early that one night and thought to surprise you. Of course, Serval just had to taste test since she’s looking out for you, her beloved brother-in-law. “Also wouldn’t mind being taken care of by my own spouse…”

Gepard quickly folded. What if his sister was right and you wanted that kind of life? But it’s not like he also wants to quit his job just like that. So he made a gradual decrease in work until he can finally have a schedule that can commit as a househusband and occasionally help when he’s needed at work as a consultant.

Your beloved husband is a bit mid from the start — basic in cooking, in chores, but it’s his perseverance that pushes him up to S-tier househusband status. He will really go out of his way to learn recipes that you suddenly brought up in the middle of a conversation and will execute it to the highest standards. He will become a lot more meticulous in his chores around the house.

If he can, he’s definitely the type to drop by and join you in lunch. He’s a lot more free now, and if there’s nothing else to do in the house, he’ll take some lunch and go to where you work and just eat lunch together. Everyone is looking at the windows of your own office in envy while they watched you get spoon fed by your cute husband (they don’t know how embarrassed Gepard is since you technically just coerced him to feed you so people can see you on purpose).

So very attentive to you. He wakes you up early (even earlier if you have meetings where you have to discuss things to be extra prepared) for work. Your lunch is just top tier, but the plating is too cute — with the slightly uneven shapes to create cute animals. He’s the kind to even put a note in your packed lunch every time without fail.

He knows how hard you work and only wants the best for you. And when you recognize his efforts, he’s quick to get flustered from your compliments. He will fold like a wet cardboard. He’s too weak.

“Dear, please,” you could only laugh at your beloved’s winsome attitude. Currently pressed against the marbled counter of the kitchen, you can only shower him in a plethora of love-filled kisses as you expressed your unending gratitude. Your lips left tiny pecks from his cheeks down to his neck, only serving to fluster him even more.

You pulled back but not before leaving another quick kiss on his nose, “What’s got you all knotted up, love? No one’s watching.” You cooed, leaving your poor husband whining at the thought of earlier — when you so cruelly asked him to feed you in front of your subordinates while you busily ‘worked’ on your projects.

But somehow even with the unbridled embarrassment that you brought to him, Gepard couldn’t help but feel the elation engulf his entirety at the prospect of you showing him off in your own mischievous ways. Even with your busy schedule, you were more than willing to let him come inside your work and take the time off just to let him join you for lunch. He’d already heard enough drama around the neighborhood to be grateful that you can still balance your work with your marriage.

He was grateful to have you as his partner for life. And even then, he wouldn’t mind having to visit you just to feed you. It was certainly a rare thing that he’s heard partners would suggest, so to be given a privilege as seeing you everyday at work was something he would cherish more than ever.

A kiss on his temple knocked his fleeting thoughts off the rail and pulled him back to reality, blinking at your curious smile, “…Shield for your thoughts?” You inquired with a gentle tone, eager to pry just what has got your husband so spacey all of a sudden.

He only grinned before pulling you in for a proper kiss and murmured against your lips, “Just thanking my lucky stars for having you as my husband.”

Now it was your turn to be flustered.

𐂂

SAMPO KOSKI

Your friends still think you’re a legend for even managing to wife up the untamable Sampo. But somehow, you pulled him in and he was more than willing to be a househusband. For more reasons than one.

But let’s get out the pinnacle of his reasons out of the way — it being, him living so comfortably? Financially supported by a handsome guy like you? Sign him up. He’s more than willing to take care of you while you take care of him. He’s a sleazy guy, after all. Wouldn’t wanna get married to a broke man. Kidding.

Anyway, he mostly sells the story of getting married just for benefits for laughs. But really, you’ve somehow managed to actually trap him as a prisoner of love. He’s a huge simp for you and actually considers your high-end job a bonus. A really good bonus. But other than that, you’ve got Sampo completely wrapped around your finger. And he’s a very eager househusband.

A surprisingly good househusband. He’s meticulous in his work and can cook. But what really sells him is how well he can budget and actively get discounts just by smooth talking the vendors in the market. You once went with him, telling him to go nuts and buy everything that he needs, and you came home with only just a good half of your money spent. He was scarily good and from then on, you made an oath to take notes from your husband’s amazing haggling skills.

He’s a very resourceful man. If you need anything, he’s there to lend a hand. He’s always there to fix equipments that break down. Really, you rarely get issues with the things at home, because the moment he senses that there’s something wrong, he’s already on the case. Your husband is a jack of all trades.

All he requires is a small fee of some attention and loving from you. Seriously, he will mope around and will let you know that he’s upset that you forgot to give him a goodbye kiss earlier when you left for work.

You wake up much earlier than he does, but please wake him up. He wants to cook you breakfast and see you off like a loving househusband that he is. He will sulk if you so much as even think of leaving him without waking him up. He’s a big drama queen and unless you make up for it once you get home, he will continue to walk around the house with a pout on his face.

The only way to make this man completely crumble underneath you is to spoil him. He’s working so hard with the upkeep of your shared home! If you take him out on surprise date nights, he will melt. Shower him with lavish gifts from all the money you saved up, courtesy of Sampo’s extreme bargaining. He will latch onto your arm the entire night like your pretty little arm candy (even if he’s taller than you).

Oh, right. You will get sudden visits from Natasha or even Seele and Oleg, just to check up on your married life. They’re mostly just there to whack some sense into Sampo if he’s being difficult to you. Suffice to say, they’re always surprised when they come visit your homely abode that’s clean and has a refreshing atmosphere. Seele plugs her ears every time you say it’s all because of Sampo that your house is even remotely presentable. She’s in denial.

It was a grueling day, leaving you completely vulnerable to the throes of exhaustion. You ought to take some vacation days, maybe go on a different country with your husband for a treat. Surely, he’d like that. You noticed he’s been working just as hard as you at home. Speaking of which — the reason for your home’s unfamiliar silence was in fact the lack of singing from your lively husband. You were so used to hearing his voice that the silence felt incredibly deafening when you were alone.

“Love? You home?” You called out, glancing at the shoe rack by the door to see his outdoor shoes in the same place and the indoor shoes missing. He’s here. You pursed your lips, brushing off the peculiarity and headed to the joint dining room and kitchen, seeing a nice still hot meal sitting on a nice plate. But it was the only thing on the table, no other plates or even a husband waiting on you with a smile. You peered at the food to see a card beside the plate, scribbled with a sad face.

“…What.” You sat the card back down before finally poking your head in the living room, seeing your husband watching another sad show while screwing in some panel from what you can only guess a part of your heater. You sauntered up from behind him, before grabbing his face and tilting his head up to meet your gaze.

He made no noise and had it not been for his evident pout, you would’ve only been left wondering what you did to make him so sulky again. You sighed before leaning to press a kiss against your lips. You could feel him finally smile against the kiss.

“So you still love me?” He asked, insinuating that you felt otherwise for not even giving him a kiss goodbye earlier.

“Not like I have a choice,” was your only cheeky response.

“Wha— Hey!”

𐂂

JING YUAN

Out of everyone, he is probably the most eager one to be a househusband. He is so ready to retire. He’s been moaning about it at work constantly, about how he’s just ready to settle in somewhere nice and be taken care of. And when you decided to finally tie the knot with him, you didn’t even have to ask twice, that man is already turning in his resignation and is already making your shared home even cozier than ever.

He’s a very languid man, but that does not mean he’s going to flake out on chores. He can do them all efficiently just for the sake of getting them out of the way so he can keep relaxing after. That, and of course making sure that you come home to a clean home. Aeons know how stressful it is to come home from work and seeing your own home completely cluttered. Jing Yuan has suffered the same thing before he met you.

Jing Yuan loves you through his cooking other than sleeping in with you. He creates the greatest dishes for you. Often are you eating your lunch with so much pride. Your subordinates would come inside your office during lunchtime to pass some papers and they would see you just completely enjoying life with your husband’s cooking.

He likes to greet you with a nice warm meal after your work. And he’d just watch you eat his meals with a fond smile while you continue to talk about each of your days with each other. Of course, occasionally, he’d open his mouth and you would have to feed him as well. Yanqing would sometimes come home to such a sight and never has he seen a more domestic scene than before.

Another one of his much favored ways to show his love is through after work massages. You’d come home and be completely smothered with love just by his touches. Sometimes he’d give you a nice neck and shoulder massage while you’re eating and talking about your day. Or you could both be lounging on the sofa and he would absentmindedly massage your overworked hands.

However his most favored time spent with you is when you’re on a day off and that he would successfully persuade you into staying a little bit longer in bed with him. Just sleep until the afternoon, with limbs tangled against one another. He loves spooning his husband that takes care of him so dearly. Just feeling your back pressed against his chest while he’s nuzzling his nose into the nape of your neck. Bliss. Utter bliss.

The two of you scream old married couple. Just two old geezers enjoying their lives. It’s really such a relaxing relationship. Being married to Jing Yuan is like a vacation from your problems and him being married to you is an adventure without the nauseating exhaustion.

Yanqing is inadvertently your child the moment you got married to your husband. And suffice to say, you were far more content in your life than you could ever imagine. Never have you felt the genuine happiness swell within you the moment you came home to the two of them cooking together. You still have a slightly motion blurred picture in your phone and neither of them know about it.

Overall the most chill househusband. But even in his passivity, you can feel the radiating warmth of love for you. He just… loves you so much that he’s more than willing to take care of you and the little family that you and him have created. He will wait for you by the door with his half-lidded gaze completely fixated on you with so much adoration. He’s lucky to have you.

You were used to the hectic mornings you often faced upon waking up. It was always a rush job in the morning, speeding through all your morning routine before finally leaving for work. But today was not that day. You could tell from the way the sunlight hit your eyelids. You always left just before the sun could even come up, but right now, you had other plans.

You wanted to prepare a nice breakfast for your husband. He had been working so hard all the time, taking care of you and Yanqing with no days off unlike you. You figured you could get the day started and surprise the both of them with some of your cooking prowess. Suddenly filled with the motivation, you sat up, ready to face the first hour of your time off work for a few days.

However, your plans were soon foiled when a strong arm hooked around your waist and immediately pulled you back down on the bed without even breaking a sweat. You sighed, looking off to the side to see one golden eye peering at you sleepily. Lips turning up into a smile, you shifted to fully face him.

“Can’t even let me make you some breakfast in bed, huh?” You teased with the same fondness as the very first day you and him got married.

A quiet grunt was all your lover gave, only to follow it up with his own gruff response a minute later, “While that sounds nice, I believe I can also reap benefits just from canoodling with my husband for let’s say… until the afternoon.”

Your hands were tied at that point, and with one last charming smile from your dozing husband, you dove into his arms, letting him press some kisses on your face before falling asleep, with you following after.

𐂂

BLADE

No one in this world knows how you managed to charm and marry Blade in the first place. Even his family considers you a miracle worker for bagging the hard to get man. You could only reminisce of the times he would give you the cold shoulder when you tried to ask him out. You were cringe but Blade somehow liked it.

Regardless, he’s one of the reluctant househusbands at first. Blade doesn’t like the feeling of not going out and making money like you. He believes that as long as he can, he will contribute to this relationship. It’s really adorable. And you were supportive of what he wants, but when he realized no one can take care of you while you’re busy being the breadwinner, he decided that he’ll take one for the team and take care of everything in the house instead.

He is meticulous in cleaning. Your house is always sparkling clean the moment you arrive at home. He’s constantly on the hunt for any dust that could taint your shared humble abode. He once read that an unclean house can cause sickness to the occupants, and he has never let a single dust touch a furniture ever since then. Your health is his priority and he will do everything in his power to keep you healthy.

You know what? Screw it, he wears his apron without a care too. He goes out of the house in a pink frilly apron you gifted him as a silly little joke and he’s not ashamed of it. Even Kafka’s incessant teasing isn’t enough to deter him from wearing it. You gave it to him and he loves it. That’s all that matters.

Surprisingly loved by your neighbors. In contrast to his gloomy disposition, he’s always seen around the market and with people’s tendency to draw closer to mysterious handsome men like him, let’s just say he’s managed to unintentionally charm your neighbors. Everyone calls you lucky for getting him, everyone calls him lucky for having a good husband that provides.

Really, he cares so little about the money you make. All he needs is your love and attention. It is imperative that you give him calls on certain times of the day, let him know that you’re still alive at the very least. It’s not like you can’t make do on such a promise either, you loved calling him just to take a break from work for a little while. Even just hearing his quiet grunts of agreement while you gossiped about your subordinates was enough.

He wakes you up… like really early. Super early. Like at least a few hours before you call in for work. His reason? To get enough time with you before you go to work. It’s adorable. You two could be just lounging at the balcony, sipping coffee or tea while you both watch the sunrise.

Speaking of which, with him comes a package. His aforementioned family. Kafka and Silver Wolf’s visits are a must. They are a part of him and now they are a part of you. Kafka could be dropping by just to chat and gossip with you (somehow both of you know a lot about people’s own businesses) or Silver Wolf would just barge in and hog all your game systems (she says no one plays them since you’re both old men so she gets the privilege). Either way you’re already used to it, and one guest room is always at the ready.

Getting married to Blade is honestly the best thing you’ve ever done in your life. You still don’t know how you pulled him, but with him resting on you while the both of you watched shows, showing you his vulnerability tells you that doing so is not an accident or a mistake.

“…Would it kill you to step back a little? It’s hard to cook.”

“But you’re so warm. So soft… so…”

Quite possibly out of all the forms of affections that you’ve expressed towards him, Blade finds your nosy hands cupping around his chest from under his clothes the least practical. Especially when you’re doing it while he’s cooking your breakfast before you’re off for work.

He flipped the omelet with ease despite his claims of difficulty just seconds ago. Of course, it wasn’t as hard when he’s standing still. But on times where he had to go get some things, you in your sleepy daze had to trudge behind him like a shadow just to persistently warm your incredibly cold hands.

Regardless, other than the difficulty in moving, Blade finds it even harder not to burn the kitchen down as his concentration dwindled with every kiss you pressed against his neck, unrelenting and incredibly soft, so filled with love in every individual peck that met his skin. His face turned a rather dark shade of scarlet while you busied yourself with him.

“Keep this up and you’re going to be late.”

“At least it’s extra time with you~” you cooed.

Blade only sighed before leaning against your back, using his free hand to softly knock into the side of your head as his form of half-assed discipline.

Well. Maybe he wouldn’t mind that extra time too.

𐂂

DAN HENG

He’s not so much as a reluctant househusband. In fact, he relishes in the idea of just staying home and doing his work there. He likes the comfort of being able to sit things out for once after having to look after his two gremlins for friends. However, he does want to make sure that you’re always safe when you’re working.

After a lot of reassurances, he finally decides that you can handle your own. He will compensate for it by taking an extremely good care of you and your shared home. And this man does not play around. He’s sort of like Blade, excelling at everything that needs to be done not just because, but it’s to keep you safe. He cooks you healthy meals and scrubs any dirt off the face of the world.

Easily one of the greatest househusbands in the list. Dan Heng has the right temperament and while he’s often aloof to most people, when it comes to you, you could already feel how he seems more lenient, a little softer on you.

He does all his work efficiently to get them over with as fast and as best as he can so he can have time to visit you in your work. If he knows he has time, count on your beloved husband to come and bring you some freshly cooked lunch in your office. Almost everyone in your company already knows who he is. He’s the elusive husband of the big boss, coming in just to bring you some lunch.

Speaking of which, might wanna keep your subordinates in check. Dan Heng is a looker, and the fact that he’s just as considerate, combined with his mysterious nature, people are bound to be more attracted to him. Though honestly, none of their little admiration could measure up to Dan Heng’s love for you.

In his eyes, you are the only one important, right next to his own family with Himeko and the rest. And he will do all that he can to make sure that you’re alright in any aspect of your life. However even with that dedication, it’s also your job to keep him intact. He focuses so much on you that he sometimes forgets to wind down.

Taking him out on something with a serene atmosphere usually does the trick. Bring tons of books to entertain yourselves, and if the stories get too old, you chat about things you have yet to tell each other. Dan Heng really appreciates the effort you put in, investing your time in him despite the fact that you’re running a conglomerate, but even then just a little gesture from you is enough for him to know how grateful you are for his own efforts as well.

Old married couple 2.0. March said so herself when she decided to barge into your home to show you her pictures from her recent travels. She and the raccoon are tied at the tally of visits. Often they just crash just to make sure Dan Heng hasn’t driven you insane yet with his very… unromantic nature. Safe to say March still couldn’t believe that dear old Dan Heng was the first to pop the question in tying the knot.

Speaking of unromantic, your husband does come off as one, often giving you practical solutions than giving you any words of comfort when you’re stressed. And perhaps it’s because you understood that’s his way of romancing you that you and him ended up married in the first place.

Exhaustion was more of a friend than a foe after having to bury yourself in the tower stacks of paperwork. It’s times like these that you had to wonder if running the family company is even worth it.

“I’m too tired to driiiiive,” you whined, looking at the spreadsheets in exasperation.

And as if he had a sixth sense, a knock on your door was heard and you gave the green light with little regard for the person behind the door. You then looked up and almost cried at the sight of your beautiful husband, with two coffees in hand.

“Come on, I’ll take you home,” it was all he had to say to prompt what little motivation you had left in your system, letting your sluggish self spring back to life. You bound to him with a grateful smile on your face and greeted him with an embrace.

You took one cup from him and graced him with a kiss on his cheek, “Hang on, let me get some take home work. I need to at least finish a good third of this.”

Your poor husband was a lot more worried than he could let on with his stoic face — seeing you on the ropes, completely hard at work and barely functioning at the sheer exhaustion was almost enough to tempt him into stopping you from bringing home your work. Alas, he supported you regardless and only thought to compensate for your extra work with an even better dinner.

“Anything you want for tonight?” He asked, thoughtful as always.

“Mmm… chicken fried rice?”

“Chicken fried rice it is.”

𐂂

CAELUS

Not a single soul expected for this man to get married. Everyone thought he’d just end up on the streets willingly, constantly rummaging through trash can after trash can, falling in love with one and settling down with it in his own odd way. Surprise surprise, he is now a househusband that digs through the high end trash cans placed inside your shared home.

Quite frankly, if Caelus was being honest, he also did not expect to trip into you and quite literally fall in love. And for you to reciprocate it. He always thought you two were just the best of friends, with you supporting his hobbies with little to no judgment. So imagine his surprise that he keeps feeling every time he wakes up right next to you (and right next to his five foot pillow of a trashcan, but it’s a separate affair on its own).

Moving aside your husband’s very odd addiction of living the life of a trash panda, Caelus is actually a pretty decent househusband. His specialities are mostly the meals he makes for you. They’re always so delicious and is often the highlight of your day even without him around.

He’s very active around the neighborhood and is always armed with the latest news around town. The other stay at home spouses love him. And you were quite surprised to find out that he’s far more connected in the very place you both live in than you could ever be. When you’re free, you’d sometimes accompany him to the market and somehow end up staying very late because a lot of people recognize him and seem to want to chat with him.

Caelus parades you around as his beloved husband and people are just dropping jaws when they realize you have definitely been interviewed in one of those famous magazines about businesses and all that jazz.

Surprisingly, just like Sampo, Caelus is your man when it comes to spending wisely and learning how to haggle. He knows his way around almost everything and even you couldn’t help but be proud of yourself of fishing out such a dashing man that is wise in finances. Good man, honestly.

One fact about him that you like are his skills in caring for children. There’s something so wonderfully domestic whenever you would come home early and see him playing with the children — Hook and Clara, if you can recall. He’s mostly just babysitting for them on days that he’s not completely hammered to death with housework.

His favorite thing to do with you is grocery shopping at night. Just the two of you cruising around every aisle, more often than not, you’d push the cart with him in it getting gradually buried by every item you decided to purchase. It’s a good way to spend some time together while getting something productive done. And perhaps coax you into buying a little more food than you and him intended in the first place. Dan Heng always advices you not to be too swayed by your husband antics… but it’s clearly not working.

Caelus is a silly little man, with his weird eccentric jokes and his equally strange fascination for all things related to trash cans. But it’s probably because of this that you found yourself enamored. He is your respite in the suffocating world of your workforce. He pushes you in situations you never thought would be fun unless he was with you.

“If you loved me, you would’ve gotten ten more boxes of cookies.”

“And if you loved me, you wouldn’t be willingly burying yourself in that cart instead of helping me pick between chocolate or strawberry milk.” You quipped back with a snarky grin, not even bothering to look at your childish husband who continued to be sprawled out in the cart at ten in the evening while you shopped.

Caelus pouted, you always did make good points. It’s why he could never win an argument against you. Or maybe he could… if he wasn’t so completely smitten at the sight of you. You were always seen as the dignified boss of your company, dressed in three piece suits that could suffocate anyone and their wallet.

But here you were, dressed in a loose shirt (likely one of his just judging from the fit) and some pair of joggers that you haphazardly threw on.

Absolutely breathtaking.

He lent out a hand to reach for the carton of flavored milk that you finally chose, adding it onto the pile. He waited until you were at the end of the cart, getting ready to muscle your way through pushing an incredibly heavy cart, courtesy of your husband.

Caelus looked up at you, “Don’t I at least get a kiss for helping out?”

“Cae, I’m dying from pushing you. How ‘bout we entertain that incentive once you got out of the cart and started helping me, hm?”

Maybe he’s just a simp, but how could he deny his demanding husband’s whims?

𐂂

WELT YANG

This old man is the definition of a reluctant retiree. Well, it’s not actually a retirement for him. He still gets to be the voice of reason, only that he won’t actually personally animating. Who’s to blame? You. To be accurate, this old man officially decided to step down from his hands-on job as an animator so he can be a househusband. You’re a priority after all, and only the heavens know how bad you need to be taken care of.

Welt joins the ranks of a godly househusband. He knows his way around almost every single thing that needs to get fixed. His cooking? Top tier. His housework game? Absolute perfection. Floors are swept, counters are wiped and dusted, sheets and clothes are washed and pressed. He is perfect.

And on top of that, he still manages to balance his work from home as the consultant for any new anime that is about to be produced and can still care for you without even breaking a sweat. Old man Welt is always pulling through.

So let’s get this out of the way — actual old married couple. Not just vibes. You two are old men who look at the screen with squinted eyes. Well, only Welt does that while you laugh at him and then proceed to forget where you placed your own phone despite being on it just a few minutes ago.

Regardless, you live a much more balanced life, just two husbands cruising through life with little worries. You live on a good neighborhood, living comfortably and get a lot of visits from yours and Welt’s friends/family. Most of which are from the trio and Himeko. You and Welt always host these family dinners on weekends where everyone is free. Life is good.

However despite all the glamour of living a comfortable life in this marriage, there is one glaring difference between you and Welt — mostly it’s the fact that you have worse time management than he does and often gets the short end of the stick, always pummeled to death with your paperwork that could leave anyone in a fit of raw despair. Welt looked at your work the one time you left to answer a phone call from office and shuddered at the heavy load.

Welt is essentially your clock when it’s time to unwind from work. You have a tendency to overwork at times and it’s something that Welt always makes sure to keep an eye out for. He just wants what’s best for you, and oftentimes, what’s best is for you is to finally get some shuteye after suffering through another overnight that you pulled.

Also, there is an unspoken rule of not letting any man with long blonde hair inside your home. It’s just a house rule. The top of all other house rules in fact, as it takes the most priority in fulfilling.

Regardless, Welt is so… househusband-shaped. He knows what to do as one and does a damn good execution of it all. Maybe it’s because of his compassionate self that you were quick to fall for the old man. He didn’t even have to try and show off, all he had to do was be himself and you’d still give him the world with every penny you’ve earned from your job.

A taut frown tugged onto Welt’s lips as he squinted on the labels from the spices that Himeko sent from her recent overseas trip. Not that he didn’t trust his good friend’s tastes in any form of flavor, it’s only that he wanted to make sure none of it had any ingredient that could probably send you into an anaphylactic shock. Yes, he is this meticulous when it comes to you.

Alas, his cautiousness grants no extra clear sight in viewing the labels and he struggled, holding them in different proximities. Are the characters really that small intentionally or are they so incoherent because they manufacturers made an error in the sizing the font before printing it on the packaging.

Fortunately for him, you came into the rescue as you plucked the packaging from his hands. Welt didn’t need to look up to see the same smug smile plastered on your face whenever you’d catch him doing the same thing to his phone. Well, he loved looking at you so he did it nonetheless.

“Having trouble again, old man?” You teased and Welt only had to sigh in response. “Is this from Himeko’s package?”

Your endeared husband nodded, “Of course. I had to see what else she gave us. And I’m looking over the ingredients so I can keep you out of the hospital as best as I can.” He turned to the stove and lowered the heat. “Now kindly read it for me, dear.”

You only nodded, flipping over the packet, “Sure thing.”

There was a silence that followed, with Welt expecting you to run your mouth about the ingredients already. He looked back to you…

…And saw you squinting at the same bundle of text that he’s been staring at.

Welt scoffed, playful and light in nature, “And you call me old.”

“It’s the manufacturer’s fault…!!”

#you’d think i learned my lesson after doing the shivers with 8 characters. but nope. Here we are with seven. #OOH. now i wanna make an hsr men version of the shivers scenario thingy that i made for the tall genshin men #jhuzen’s stupid hcs #hsr x male reader #honkai star rail x male reader #gepard x male reader #sampo x male reader #jing yuan x male reader #blade x male reader #dan heng x male reader #caelus x male reader #welt yang x male reader

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Obsessive tendencies. // Dark!Aemond Targaryen x Noble!Reader.

MDNI, DD:DNE: reader discretion is advised.

block the tag #MAE:DARK!CONTENT to prevent seeing dark content posted from me

based on this request.

WARNINGS: noncon to dubcon, kidnapping, obsession, mind break, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, breeding kink, rough sex(?), manhandling(?), multiple orgasms + not proofread.

WC: 2.1k

“Let me go please!” you cry, banging on the tightly shut and locked door, knowing damn well aemond can hear you from the other side. “No, I cannot, I'm sorry.” he apologises before you hear his footsteps, sounding more far away as the time passes, indicating that he had left.

You slide down the door in disbelief, hugging your knees as you wonder how you got yourself into this situation, locked in the highest tower of the keep, with metal bars on the windows to prevent you from jumping off.

Locked away in here like some kind of prisoner.

It all started when you had first met Aemond on Aegon's coronation day, a joyous day for the house of the dragon as it put the uncertainty of the realm to rest at last, wondering who would be their leader between Aegon and Rhaenyra, until Viserys changed his mind and instilled Aegon as heir, and soon passed away later.

Their family dynamic was extremely off putting, but you never cared much about it, you were only there because your house had been invited for the grand dinner after the coronation.

That's when you had met Aemond, at first you did not think much of him, but the more you heard the ladies talk about him, the more curious you got, and so you decided to approach him first.

Big mistake.

He was shy, not really talkative and so you gave up, thinking to not bother him anymore, but what you were unaware of was that he had taken a liking to you.

He tried to approach you many times after that, but your meetings were cut short and constantly interrupted, as if fate was trying to warn you to get away from him.

But like a moth is attracted to a flame, you were pulled towards him, recognizing the efforts that he was trying to talk to you, you started to converse with him more often.

You should not have done that.

You remember announcing that you had to leave soon, as your family's stay had already extended due to political matters, and that was the first time you saw such a dark expression on his face.

You decided to ignore it.

But look where that bought you now.

Locked in a tower, by him.

You sniffed as the tears streamed down your face, dripping down to your neck and you sighed, got up and went over to the bed before resting on it, preferring to cry on a soft silk sheeted bed rather than a hard floor.

You don't know how long it had been since he was gone, but you were woken up by the sound of the door unlocking, and you sat up straight, and there he stood, hands behind his back and a leg extended slightly, his eye on the table, and you turned your gaze to it. He had bought you food.

“Let me go.” you tell him, glaring up at him, but he just sighs and comes near you, you move backwards on the bed and he stops, looking down.

“I apologise, my lady. I know this isn't an ideal situation.” he begins and you scoff, “ideal situation? This is terrifying! Why are you doing this my prince?!” you shout at him, anger pouring out of you.

“I love you.” he suddenly says.

“Wh-what.” you're baffled, not expecting him to say that.

“My lady, I love you, I really do, to the point I had to resort to this, I cannot let you leave me. I apologise.” he speaks and silence falls between you two.

“If you truly love me, please let me go.” you tell him, you notice how his jaw slightly twitches, before he licks his lips to hydrate them, and then speaks up.

“I will do anything for you.”

“then let me-”

“Anything, except letting you go, I cannot do that, you're mine.” he inches towards and your eyes widen, “I want to marry you, and your father is refusing to accept my proposal, so i have to resort to this.” he tells you and you're confused but then he moves even closer, grabbing you by your shoulder and pushing you down on the bed.

Your eyes widen further as he gets on top of you, hands roaming down your bodice, pulling at the strings that hold it together, and that's when adrenaline courses through and you fight against him, thrashing in his grip, trying to get him off of you.

“Please let me go! I will convince my father to get us married, please, I'll pretend this never happened and we can live as you wish.” you plead, pushing his shoulders, and he stops his actions, you feel hope bloom in your chest, thinking that he'd accepted it, and will let you go, but the words that left his mouth proved otherwise.

“No, you will betray me and run away.”

The sound of the fabric of your dress ripping fills the room and you shriek, hands immediately flying towards your chest, crossing against your breasts to protect your dignity but he grabs both your hands and pins them to your sides, revealing your breasts to him.

He was too strong to fight against.

His lips find your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone, and to the valley between your breasts before nipping at the flesh, and taking your nipple in his mouth, tongue twirling around the bud, causing it to perk up in arousal.

He grabs the cloth of your dress, tearing it once again, but this time exposing the entirety of you, he pulls off the destroyed clothing and throws it to the side, and that's when you realise your hands were free once again, so you push him, and this time it actually works, cause he is caught off guard and falls onto his back next to your side, you try to make a run for it, but you're too late as he grabs you by your hand and pulls down unto the bed again, and straddles your waist to prevent you from escaping.

“Don't you fucking dare.” he growls into your ear and you whimper, and he moves down, undoing his breeches pulling out his cock and pumping into full hardness. Your eyes widen when you see his length, and the realisation that he was actually going to take your maidenhead.

He lines it up against your entrance, only slightly wet due to the pleasure of him suckling on your nipple before, you push against his shoulders, shaking your head, “Please Aemond, I'll marry you, I won't betray you, let me go.” you sobbingly plead, he was almost going to shove his cock inside of you with no preparation, but knowing how large he is, you will bleed way too much, so he instead of sheathing himself inside you, he instead cups your sex before parting your folds with his fingers, rubbing small circles against your clit.

This causes slither of pleasure to creep up in your body, making you gasp when you feel him pinch those bundle of nerves, you swallow thickly when his finger dips down towards your entrance, and he slowly inserts his fingers, making you squirm in discomfort, having something inside you for the first time.

At first it was only one finger, but then as he thrusts in and out and feels you loosen up, he adds another, curling them upwards, reaching that spongy part within you, making you moan, it doesn't go unnoticed so he tries searching for it again, and when he feels it, he presses against it causing you gasp and grab his hand by the wrist, he shoots you a smirk before his fingers are plunged inside you, curled upwards so it's hitting all the right spots, making you moan loudly.

You shouldn't be enjoying this, this situation is extremely fucked up, but you can't deny the fact that he's making you feel so fucking good, his fingers are paced painfully slow, “Ae-aemond please- faster.” you beg, knowing you are near your peak, you seem to have lost your mind, begging him to go faster? Your mind feels hazy and you whine when you feel him comply with your request, going faster, and then? You are seeing stars as your peak rips through you, causing you to arch your back and moan his name loudly, hand tightly clenching around his wrist, shutting your eyes tightly.

He withdraws his hand, making you miss something inside of it already, he deems that you're prepared enough and once again aligns his cock near your entrance, you wait with your legs spread apart, bracing for the pain, and he pushes himself inside slowly.

He groans, feeling pleasure when his cock slides in, every ridge of your wall holding him tightly and perfectly, as if he was the missing puzzle you desperately needed.

You on the other hand, clench your fists, nails digging into your own hands as the pain of intrusion burns like a hot flame, and unable to take the pain longer, you let out a sob, and aemond looks at you, caressing your face, and kissing your tears away, “Shhh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but you're doing so good for me, just bear it a little more longer okay? I will slide in fully.” and just as he said, he slid in fully, causing you to let out a border line shriek, which he had to cover with his own hand.

He didn't move, letting you adjust, and you tried to calm your breathing, trying to relax, eyes staring up at him as he hair curtains your face, he removed his hand from your mouth and your lips trembled, gasping when he started moving slowly.

He looks down, to where your bodies are connected and moans in delight when he sees your maiden-blood coating his cock, a sick satisfaction blooming in him as he watches it, knowing that he has ruined you, and no one would want you now. This makes him frantic and his thrusts pick up speed, plunging in and out of you at such a fast pace, making your face contort in pain as you desperately try to get adjust to him while also trying to take his harsh thrusts, and soon the burning sensation of pain goes away and it turns into something more pleasurable.

“Ae-aemond, slow down please.” you gasp, unable to keep up, body jolting up and down the bed, as the breath inside you gets constantly knocked out, “Fuck- I'm sorry, I can't.” he apologizes and continues to keep the pace stable, you grip the sheets below for support, wrapping your legs around him in an attempt to slow him down, but it doesn't work.

He leans down, kissing your lips, and then your neck and nipping at the flesh, finding the sensitive spot, making you tilt your head back and moan, your hand shoots up to his hair as he mouths your neck.

He pulls away, and focuses on his thrusts instead, rutting into you like an animal, thumb circling your clit to bring you to your peak before him, and he succeeds, because the next thing you feel is the tightened band in your stomach snapping at a high intensity, “Fuck!” you moan, head falling backwards, and you ride your orgasm out as he thrusts into you.

“God's, I am so close, going to cum inside you and seed you, you'd look so beautiful with my child in your belly—” he gasps, his thrusts becoming sloppier, “so full and round of me yeah? With my heir, and gods- when your tits will fill with milk to feed my babes, fuck, I'll have you many times, keep you full of my children.” he groans, closing his eyes, imagining you with his child, and that's when he snaps, spilling himself inside you with a loud moan.

He starts softening after a while, pulling out of you, unwrapping your legs from around his waist, as you look at him in hazy state, eyes droopy, he admires the view, your legs spread out with his seed leaking out of you, chest heaving up and down, hair messy and some of the drool escaping your mouth.

He kisses you once again, trailing it down to your stomach, and presses a firm kiss on your lower abdomen, before gently rubbing his hand against it. “I cannot wait for it to take root inside you. You'd give me as many heirs as I wish, won't you?” He asks and you don't reply, too tired to form words, eyes closing, drifting off to slumber when you're rudely awakened with a slap to your clit, making you shoot your eyes open at the pain, “Answer me.” he demands and you nod your head, “Yes my prince- as many as you want.” you reply weakly and he hums.

“Hmm, Sȳz riña.” (good girl.)

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond x reader smut #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen #MAE:DARK!CONTENT #house of the dragon smut #hotd smut #aemond x fem!reader #x reader smut #reader insert #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond #tw: dark content #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #dark!aemond targaryen #dark!aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #smut

[sweetiecutie]

AHHHH I NEED MORE KEEGAN IN MY LIFE PLEASE could you write some Keegan h/c?

Pairing: Keegan P Russ x fem! Reader

Warnings: just general stuff, language, bad driving, NSFW under the cut, mdni, spit kink

A/n: it’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing😌 Keegan is such a bad bitch, he deserves more attention

• Starting off - I’m pretty sure that Keegan would want a civil partner; someone not related to military and actually as far as possible from all the war stuff. First of all, it’s to avoid having constant fear of losing you on the battlefield - it’s a highly dangerous job, sometimes coming out alive is not only a matter of skills, but also pure luck. Secondly, the amount of trauma and emotional damage Keegan carries is more than enough for two people - he needs someone grounded and, well, more stable, someone who will be able to give him a piece of blissful domestic life, faraway from all the constant war Keegan lives in.

• Always referring to you as his girl in conversations with other people or when introducing you to someone new. “That’s Y/n - my girl” “That’s for my girl, she likes pink” “My girl doesn’t like the smell of smoke so I’m trying to quit”. It’s also a way of showing everyone that you’re his - letting others know from the very beginning that you’re taken and no one better try anything with his precious girl, otherwise a few bones will be broken.

• Gives off annoying older brother vibes. He’ll always playfully nag you, and it’ll only become worse once you start dating. Placing stuff on the highest shelves just to watch you struggle to get it yourself, drawing some silly doodles on your notes, messing with your makeup that you spent nearly an hour organising neatly, punching your favourite plushie just to get a rise out of you. And of course, constant bickering! “Keegan, can you pass me that book?” - “Fuck no” *passes the book*. “Keegan, I want some sushi” - “Well shit, what am I supposed to do about that?” *already placing an order online on his phone*

• Another amazing driver here. Keegan has horrible road rage, hitting the car horn aggressively, yelling most intricate insults out the window at whoever that happened to piss him off. I also have a feeling the he drives really fast and reckless, teasing you whenever you ask him to go slower - so you better always buckle up. And yes, he definitely got in a few minor accidents - scratching or leaving indents on other car’s bumper.

NSFW here~*•.

• And while we’re speaking of driving - just imagine giving him a sloppy noisy head while being stuck in a long traffic. Keegan is seething with hot anger, rolling his eyes on other drivers, lack of nicotine adding to his distress. And here’s a sweet lovely you trying your best to make Keegan feel at least a tad bit better, soothing his booming annoyance with your silky tongue swirling around throbbing shaft, cheeks hollowing to provide stronger suction, allowing Keegan to set the pace. And it seemed to work wonders on him - his nape against the headrest of driver’s seat, pretty blue eyes half lidded, staring at the car ceiling, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard, feeling your throat wrapped around his cock.

• Oh, how nasty he is. Biggest spit kink ever - ordering to open your mouth nice and wide just to spit a thick globe of saliva in it, then closing your jaw and making sure that you swallow it. Will gladly let you spit in his mouth as well; loooves messy wet kisses - either during make out session or after you gave him head, slurping up your spit mixed with his cum from your lips and chin. Very often uses his spit as lube, or telling you to spit in his palm before spreading it all over his needy leaking cock, plunging it deep inside your warmth.

• A horndog. You never have to ask him if he’s in a right mood because yes, he is. He is always in the mood to fuck. Now, he always lets you know that it’s totally fine if you say no - Keegan will never pressure or guilt trap you into any kind of intimacy, no means no. You can always cuddle up together or do something fun like cooking, dancing or simply dorking around. But if your sexdrive happens to match his - oh boy, I’m sorry for your neighbours. Let’s just say - there’s hardly any surface in your flat that you didn’t fuck on.

• It’s nothing new, but this mug is cocky. Like, I don’t think he has unimaginably big dick - not small for sure, but not huge as well; but the way he works with it - a chef’s kiss. Keegan just knows how to angle his hips to massage that one spot within you, how you like your clit to be played with, how he quickly discovers and memorises all the sweetest spots of your body. “Aw, cumming already? I barely touched you, does it feel this good?” - he’d purr, curling three of his long fingers inside of your needy cunny, thumb flicking swollen clit while hot mouth sucks on perked up nipples.

• Daddy kink? Daddy kink😏

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is very important, give writers some love<3

#keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan russ #call of duty keegan #keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #keegan russ x you #keegan russ smut #cod mwf2 #cod x reader #cod smut #cod #cod x you #cod x y/n #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty writing #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty smut #call of duty ghosts #call of duty headcanons

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Hiii

Can I request top!Agatha Harkness x bottom!reader? And Agatha overstimulates reader with her fingers and magic. maybe you could add breeding kink

PLEASE 🥺

Under Her Spell

Top!Agatha Harkness x bottom!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, top!Mommy!Agatha, subby!reader, overstimulation (R), use of vibrator (R), Agatha uses magic to restrain R, A uses magic strap on R, breeding kink, magic strap does have cum

Word Count: 1,151

A/N: I had a fun time exploring this first time really writing Agatha, so I did go a little overboard from my usual requests. Hope you enjoy anon!

The rays of the setting sun flooded through the double floor to ceiling picture windows leading into the living room of your shared space. You had fallen asleep for a nap earlier in the afternoon only to be woken up by the rays on your face.

The timing seemed to be perfect though as you heard the familiar sound of the front door unlocking and opening. Shoes being taken off and set on the rack by the door. Keys dropped in the bowl.

“I'm home, angel!” you hear your girlfriend call out, making you smile as you get up from your spot on the comfy sectional. You kept your blanket wrapped around you, not willing to give up its warmth just yet.

You shuffled your way over. A smile on your face as well as hers as her deep blue eyes settle on you.

You bound up to her, blanket falling and forgotten about as the warmth of her embrace takes over.

“Welcome home!” You say, burying your face in her chest.

“Did you miss me dear?” You look up at her nodding “We're you a good girl while I was out?”

“Of course! I was the best!” Agatha already knew that, of course she did. She always had eyes and ears around the house to keep an eye while she was away.

“Well good girls deserve rewards, don't they?” She pulled you up and into a kiss, slowly moving the two of you to the bedroom. “Strip down sweetie. I'm going to get some toys to play with.” You undressed quickly, not wanting to upset Agatha and got yourself on the bed as she came back with only a magic wand making you tilt your head in confusion.

Before you can verbally question anything Agatha waves her hand, purple swirls of magic tug on your wrist until they're above your head. Your legs being tugged in opposite directions being held firmly in place by her magic. You couldn't move even if you wanted to.

The wand is being held in place over your clit Agatha turning it on its highest setting.

“Ahhhh…Agatha…” she smirked down at you.

“Stay right there pet. I'm going to go take a shower.” You whine and try to squirm, but no matter how you moved the vibrator was in just the right spot. “Cum as much as you like pet. I want the bed soaked by the time I'm back.” That was how Agatha left you as she closed the on-suite bathroom door.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

“Are you still with me sweetie?” Your eyes glazed over as your head lulled towards her,

“Mama…” your brain was entirely fuzzy. Words are difficult for you right now. You lost count after five, but you knew from the look on Agatha's face she was happy.

Your eyes trailed over her still wet and naked body before your eyes landed on the magic strap between her legs and you knew this wasn't over. Agatha took the vibrator away from your now extremely overstimulated clit. You shudder in relief though you could still feel phantom vibrations from it being there for an hour.

“Are you ready dear?” Agatha asked, already knowing the answer. You dumbly nodded your head. “Such a good girl doing exactly as I had asked. Now it's time for your reward.” Agatha moved herself between your legs, lining herself up with you. She knew you were more than wet enough. She let your legs go in favor of holding them as she pushed into you. Making you moan out and pull against your restraints.

“Mommy! Touch! Pease!” Your last word slurring slightly as she hits your spot.

“Shhh soon baby, let Mommy enjoy you for a bit.” Agatha cooed into your ear in such a way that made you shiver and fall deeper into that fuzzy head space only being able to moan. Words are becoming too much for your brain to handle currently.

Agatha let her mouth wander, biting and sucking wherever she could, she loved marking you and since she had started you always had various states of hickies littering your body from fresh purple to healing yellows. A beautiful collage that Agatha had made across the canvas of your body.

You came back from your thoughts when Agatha added her fingers back into the mix on your clit.

“C-cummin’ Ma…” you somehow managed out.

“Go on, baby girl. Cum for Mommy.” Agatha husked, breathy in your ear. As the coil inside you snapped once more and she finally let your arms go as she continued to pump inside you.

“Mama…too mush…” you gripped her, scratching down her back.

“One more angel. I want you to cum with me. You can do that, right? You're such a good girl for me.” You nodded though everything felt like it was on fire in both the best and worst way.

The build up was quick for both of you as Agatha gripped you tightly, looking down into your Y/E/C orbs.

“I'm gonna cum baby. Gonna cum all inside you and fill up that pretty tummy until you're perfectly full and breed with my babies.” You moansled at her words, you hips moving with her own as, making her strap hit your deepest parts and as soon as she started to spurt inside of you, you snapped and joined her in the bliss of yet another orgasam as you gripped and clawed at Agatha only able to repeat, “Breed me Mommy…please…please breed me…” your brain on autopilot.

Agatha had trained you so well over your time together as her movement slowed down. Slowly pulling out making you groan and clench around nothing as she shushed and cooed at you.

“It's okay sweetie. I'm right here. I'm gonna grab you water and a towel.” With a flicker of Agatha's wrist the room was cleaned. No more of your mess on the bed and it even felt warm as you started drifting off until you felt the cold cloth against you as you instinctively tried to pull back, but her strong hands held you there. “It's okay baby I need to clean you. I know I overstimulated you didn't I?” she cooed, your hazy eyes looking at her.

“Yes.”

“You loved it though, didn't you?” she asked with a smile as she helped you sit up to drink some water.

“Yes.”

Agatha got the two of you in your pajamas with a snap of her fingers, letting you curl up against her body. You start falling asleep comfortably against your dominant and your girlfriend in your fuzzy little headspace.

“I love you Y/N you did so well for me tonight.” She whispered as she rubs your back and runs her fingers through your hair as you smile and press yourself further into her.

“I love you too, Aggie.” That night you fell asleep with a smile on your face.

#ley speaks #ley writes #ley requests #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x female reader #dom!agatha harkness #top!agatha harkness #mommy!agatha harkness #sub!reader #subby!reader #bottom!reader

[jifanjiang0710]

Closed Doors

yan secretary! zhongli x ceo! reader

Lantern Rite was fast approaching. From the glass windows that extended from the ledge at the bottom to the expanse of the ceiling, you could see that every corner and alley was alight with crimson silk and flowers, couplets and ribbons, lights flashing incessantly even in the mind’s eye. Your own office building had some, sporting of the festivities despite the heavy workload the staff have been burdened with recently.

A hand on your shoulder, a whisper of your name, by your ear.

“You have worked hard. Would you care to chat over dinner?”

“...I’m busy, tonight.”

Zhongli pulled back, gently, as if he had taken the rejection well. When has he ever, in this one-sided… situationship… thing?

“Then let me drive you home.”

“No, I’m fine.” You feel like throwing up, even though you had not eaten in many hours. The last time that occured…

No words. He is displeased, and it strikes a hot bolt of guilt through your veins. He did only mean the best for you, your trusted secretary.

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

“I can assure you, my dear, it is no hassle at all. Do you not trust me to keep you safe, after all these years?”

You sigh. He speaks much like a doting grandfather. Your eyes trail to the two long red strips on the office door.

“ ‘Longevity like the highest West mountains, blossoming relationships akin to the depth of the Eastern sea.’ Isn’t the second part a bit out of place, Zhongli?”

The man in question leaned in, lowering his glasses and scrutinising the words on the couplet. “So it is.”

“Nothing more to say?” That was uncharacteristic of your secretary.

Zhongli coughed, as if to distract that. “I find the emphasis on interpersonal relations between persons agreeable. Is that not something you wish to have in your life, [Name]?”

“I… suppose?”

You knew he wrote it, and dare not remove it from the front doors of the company. You had to settle with unmatching couplets for the next month.

“Speaking of which, [Name]...” he said, tailing behind you at such a leisurely pace that you always had to stop several times for him to catch up. “The, ah, schedule for the company celebration on the second day of Lantern Rite has been updated. I have assigned your seating arrangement near-”

“Oh, right. I forgot to tell you. I won’t be around next month. I’m going back with my family to celebrate.”

…

“Zhongli?”

Why is he…disappointed? It is perfectly fine and common, for the overworked CEO to take time off to visit their loved ones for the holidays. Zhongli still feels an ache in his rustic heart as you said that.

You wouldn’t be spending Lantern Rite with him.

Last year, and the year before that, and the year before as well, you had; too busy slaving for the survival and growth of the company to take the journey home. He doesn’t know what to do with the chip at his feelings knowing you will not be around this year, even if it only consists of the two of you working late nights at the office, and him replacing your lukewarm cup of tea from time to time. By the time he replies you have arrived at your private office.

“... I see.”

After all he’s done for you, as well. Do you view him as nothing but a subordinate? 

Zhongli chided himself, shelving these thoughts for later. His younger self would succumb to petty, childish musings like these, and he would imagine he has matured.

He sees you falter, perhaps noticing the shift in mood. “Are you going anywhere for Lantern Rite?” you asked.

He smiles, not too broadly, making sure to keep his eyes still.

“Where has an old man like me to go, except for work?”

To the untrained eye, you seem unphased, but your secretary knows better. With a little observance, he can detect your uncomfortable twitches, fidgeting, wandering eyes. And, contrary to public belief, Zhongli can be very observant. How do you think he picks out the gem amongst stones? To him, you are that very diamond he so desires.

“Please, you are hardly half the age you act. You could… take a trip somewhere south, escape the cold…”

How intriguing. Before you can blink he towered over you, arm brushing against your shoulder. Zhongli looked you directly in the eyes, without a hint of warmth or the usual wise whimsy he conducts himself with.

“A most interesting suggestion. However I do not intend to go holidaying off by myself.”

You had no response to that, still recovering from the apparent change in attitude of your secretary.

“Not to mention, I would… how do I phrase this… find myself missing you terribly.”

For a moment, you think you see the amber in his eyes morph into a disgusting, bloody red. It could easily be passed off as reflection from the hanging lanterns.

He continues, when you don’t speak. “So, when you return to your, ah, loved ones, partake in the wonders of tradition and communal gathering… please think of me as well.”

A sweet statement turned sinister. Was this how he had gotten you to stay for the past year, and all the Lantern Rite’s before that?

Come to think of it, you don’t know why you were so busy back then either.

“After all, [Name]...”

He would do anything to keep you here, under his watchful eye and within his clutches.

“What is a poor old man to do, without you?”

He tried to play it off as a joke, a light-hearted statement made meant for mild amusement. You seemed to take it well, offering a hesitant chuckle. If you find this off-putting, he would hate for you to discover what he did to earn his position as your secretary. When he was young it would have been much more… how to put it? Physically forceful. 

The bloodlust from them has since faded. How would you feel seeing him slathered in crimson? Cringe in fear and revulsion, or praise him for his devotion?

He finds violence by his own hands unnecessary, now. He can do just as much and more with the influence he currently wields.

The manager who tried to seduce you, the owner of a rival company’s snark comments, all the scathing words of Internet users who think it so clever to be cruel to you behind a screen… one way or another, he has taken care of them as a good secretary would.

All that has paid off. Now he is your most trusted staff, the one who understood every quirk and minute action. No one had been through every high and low, seen you inside and out like he has.

He caresses you so gently, as if you were the most delicate petal or the most fragile diamond. As if all this was right and normal, for a secretary to do.

Who would suspect Zhongli the gentleman, collected, distinguished and composed of such depravity?

“Good morning, dear. Happy Lantern Rite.”

You trusted him, wholeheartedly.

But when you eventually wake up in his arms, in his bed, to the sound of firecrackers and joyful festive cheers, even after he promised the last time that it was a one-time mistake and would not happen again, you’re not quite sure you do, anymore.

#yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #tw yandere #leos works #yandere secretary #yandere zhongli #yandere zhongli x reader

[glassartpeasants]

Deny Your Feelings

Trafalgar Law x Assassin!GN!Reader

Warnings: small angst, mostly fluff, blood, mentions of death Grammarly said it was fine so i say its fine

~~~

For a government that prides itself itself in getting the job done by killing pirates, they sucked at it behind the scenes. Which is where you come in.

You were a high-end assassin for the world government. They called you when they deemed the target too dangerous for basic marines and too unpredictable to send out admirals.

No matter the pirate, you always got the job done. The payout was great each time, but it did get boring. Same thing over and over again. Join the crew, gain their trust, kill the Captain, then the crew, take the treasure, go to an island, set the ship on fire and finally go back to the higher-ups. Every single ‘crew’ you joined was nothing but rude, rowdy pirates who stole from the weak and treated people like trash. So you never had any problems taking their lives. So when you got a call about a new job, you figured it’d be the same old same old, but as soon as the pirate's name was revealed, you knew you finally had a challenge.

Trafalgar Law, aka The Surgeon of Death.

You’ve heard many stories about him, mostly bad ones, but stories nonetheless. He was Captain to the Heart Pirates and has a bounty of 200,000,000 berri’s. His bounty was the highest you’ve ever been sent after. You’ve never had to deal with a million berri’s man, so to be hired for such a feat almost felt like a gift. It was thrilling to be sent on such a mission, finally something to spice up such a monotonous cycle.

You couldn’t wait for the job to start.

~~~

“Everyone, this is (Y/N). They’re a new member of the crew, so treat them like you would anyone else.” Waving to everyone, you smile brightly before speaking.

“Nice to meet you all!” Not even seconds later, a giant polar bear runs up to you. Its outfit is orange compared to the common grey ones.

“Wow! It’s been so long since we’ve had someone new! I’m Bepo! Where are you from?” You were taken aback by its complete ability to speak as you had never seen something like it.

“I’m from the North Blue. What about you, big guy?” Everyone started to gather around you and began to ask questions about you. You told them the truth for the most part while still sprinkling some lies in to avoid suspicion.

“I need you guys to show them around. I have to get back to my studies.” Law voices rang in your ears as you turned your sight to him. Even though you’ve seen multiple pirates, there was something about the surgeon of death. His eyes seemed so hypnotizing, and the way his tattoos looked against his skin had you struggling not to ogle. He was a handsome man, truly, but his bounty poster didn’t nearly do him enough justice. It was a shame he was a pirate. If he wasn’t, you would have totally made a move. But alas, the universe had other plans and made him a pirate.

A dangerous one at that. Killing him would be no easy task. His devil-fruit abilities were a force to be feared. No doubt he had haki, too. Truly a formidable opponent. 

“No problem, Captain!”

“Thanks. Now, get ready to submerge.” Law’s last words had your stomach dropping.

“Submerge?...” A slight grin cracked his face.

“Yep, 450m under the surface.” A look of horror crossed your face, causing Law to stifle a laugh. You make a dash to the nearest window, and your heart sinks as you watch yourself descend to the deep. Being on a ship? Fine. You were above water. But below water? 450m down in Sea King waters? The thought of being in a metal-enclosed space had your blood freezing.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

~~~

Ever since entering the Polar Tang, you’ve done your best to distract yourself from how deep you were underwater. Cleaning, exercising, playing games with the crew, and getting to know their routines. Currently, you're making yourself a snack. Onigiri, to be exact. You’ve been cravigning it since joining the Heart Pirates and just now have the motivation to make it. You hummed a tune while dancing lazily as you finished the onigiri. The sound of footsteps approaching goes unnoticed as you are too enveloped in your own world to notice them. 

“Having fun?” Law’s voice broke you from your trance, causing you to yelp and turn to face him. Your face felt as if it were on fire with how embarrassed you were.

“Jesus! You scared me! How long have you been standing there?” You fiddle with your fingers before turning around to try to finish the onigiri quickly so Law doesn’t see how flustered you are.

“Long enough.” You could feel his gaze burn from behind you. It made you unbelievably nervous. There was no doubt he was studying you. What if he knew who you were? He’d kill you for sure!

“What are you making?” Law’s monotone voice returns, and you feel yourself slightly calm down.

“Oh? Just some onigiri. Would you like some Captain?” Turning around, you see a small pink dust on his cheeks. Did you embarrass him or something?

“I…Just ate, but thank you.” You nod your head before sitting down at the table to eat.

“It’s my favorite, so I thought I should share something that makes me happy.” This was a true statement regardless of whether Law was a pirate or not. It did give you the idea to kill him via poison. If you made food and poisoned it and fed it to everyone, they’d all be dead without a fight. But you heard about all the powers Law’s devil fruit can do, so that plan was shut down before it could even come to fruition. Him also being a doctor makes things only 10x harder. The plan needed to be perfect for it to work. No room for mistakes.

~~~

If only you could use your governmental status right now. The Marines shooting you were pissing you off. While it’d make your job easier if they hit the crew members, you wouldn’t get all the pay if they shot Law. And that would not stand.

“Captain! More just arrived!” You and Law both turn your heads as you see more Marines approaching.

“There must be a base nearby if they keep coming like this. I don’t wanna deal with an admiral, so let’s go. Everyone to the sub!” Following Law’s orders, everyone makes a break for the Polar Tang.

“It’s like they're randomly spawning! They're coming out of nowhere!”

“Welcome to the pirate life newbie.” You can hear the smirk in Law’s voice as he runs right beside you. Despite trying to focus on running, your eyes move in Law’s direction. Even though he looked exhausted, he moved with such precision. The way a small bead of sweat rolled down his face made a slight burning feeling appear on your face. 

‘No! He’s a pirate! Get your head in the game!’ Shaking your head, you return to making your running your top priority. You wouldn’t get money if you were dead.

Bullets whip past you and Law, making your heart jump in your chest. You’ve been shot before, but it felt different coming from your own team. Usually, the sound of Marines yelling didn’t bother you, but now it gave you an intense feeling of unease. You haven’t even been a ‘pirate’ for 3 months, and you're already starting to despise them!

Moving your head to the side, you catch a Marine aiming straight for Bepo. Your eyes widen as you stop in your tracks. Turning around, you run towards the bear. Dread filled your heart as you feared for the bear's safety. 

“Bepo! Look out!” Without a second thought, you push the bear out of the way. The gunshots echoed in your ears before a stinging pain hit your shoulder. You could see the worst possible outcome if you weren’t there even seconds later.

“Fucking A! Damnit, whatever. Bepo, hurry, let’s go!” You grab the bear's paw and begin to drag him to the polar tang. The pain in your shoulder had you biting your lip until blood appeared from your bite's sheer force. While it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been shot, this one felt so much more painful. You can feel blood seep into your uniform as you try running faster.

“(Y/N) your bleeding! A lot!” Bepo’s voice rang in your ears as you finally looked down at your wound. He wasn’t kidding when he said a lot. Almost your entire shoulder was drenched in the red substance.

“Now’s not the time to worry about it! Our priority is getting back to the Polar Tang! I can see it from here, so don’t stop now, alright?!” Bepo’s worried face is replaced by a serious one as he continues to run. The yellow metal of the sub gives both of you determination to run faster.

Once getting on the dock, you have Bepo jump in first before yourself. An action you ask yourself for. In fact, you were questioning why you saved him in the first place? If he died, that’d be one less nuisance to kill later. That and you wouldn’t have been shot! You wouldn’t be currently bleeding out if you just left him to die. Yet, the thought of the bear getting hurt made your heart burn. 

~~~

The event’s of earlier replayed in your mind as you sit in the infirmary. As soon as the Polar Tang went under the waves, you rushed yourself to the infirmary so you could fix your shoulder.

While yes, your ‘Captain’ is a doctor, the last thing you want is to owe him. Not to mention he was too busy setting course for the next destination. You didn’t have the time to wait. So you were gonna do it yourself, it’s not like people would come looking for you. That being said, you grab all the supplies you need and begin your own health care. It couldn’t be that hard.

“Damn bullet. Just get out already.” Putting your gloved finger in the wound, you try to fish out the bullet. A hand towel between yoru teeth as you bit down in pain. How can something be so difficult?! It’s a metal cylinder for chirsts sake! Why can’t you find it?! The lack of success made you aware of how much more blood you’ve lost. Your gloved hand is covered in it and ran down your arm. A weary feeling fills your body as you can feel yourself growing tired. Which even you know is not a good sign.

“Yeah, they're in here, Captain!” The sound of hurried footsteps catches your attention as the infirmary door opens. The figure of Law and Bepo enter your vision. You should have known Bepo would tell him.

“Jesus (Y/N)-ya! What are you thinking?!” The way his voice reprimanded you made you unintentionally lower your head.

“I just didn’t want to bother you since you were busy.”

“I’m your Captain, and as your Captain, it’s my job to make sure my crew stays okay! That means fixing them when their hurt! Never do this shit again, understand?” Looking away from him with a lowered head, you respond.

“Yes, Captain.”

~~~

You were currently sitting in the crew bunks reading a book, trying to ignore the pins and needles in your shoulder and your heavy heart. It shouldn’t affect you as much as it is, but when Law yelled at you, you felt ashamed. The fact a pirate could make you feel this way pissed you off. How can a simple pirate crew influence your emotions to where you took a bullet for one of them? No matter how hard you tried to focus on the book you were reading, your agonizing thoughts kept running rampant. 

Yet just as you were about to put the book away, theres a knock at the door.

“Hello?” Waiting to see another crew member, you were shocked to see Law standing at the door frame staring at you.

“Do you need something, Captain?”

“Bepo told me you took the bullet for him. Is that true?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want him to get hurt after I saw a Marine aiming at him.” Law said nothing as he looked at your bandaged shoulder.

“How’s it feel?”

“Like a bullet wound.” A small chuckle left his lips as he stared at you before going silent.

“Sorry for not telling you about it. You were already busy, so I didn’t want to add more trouble to your plate.”

“I apologize for yelling; Bepo wanted to say thank you, but he felt too bad to say it in person.”

“I’ll have to tell him it’s no problem. But it’s sweet of you to help him.” Law looks away as he puts his hand on his neck. He couldn’t have you seeing how your words made his cheek show a slight pink.

“Also, I have a question. Or, well, a request, really.”

“What is it?”

“I was wondering when, or if you have the time, you could teach me some basic first aid and CPR? I just would like to help in case someone got hurt on the battlefield. Like a field medic who can take care of their own.” Law’s heart did a small flip as you looked at him. You’ve only been a Heart Pirate for 3 months, and you’ve already taken a bullet for a crewmate, made meals more than half the time, always cleaned, and now you're making an effort to try and help him and your crewmates even more?

How can someone be so caring to people they barely know?

The thought of being alone with you, having you watch him in awe made his fingers twitch. It annoyed him. Why did you have this ability to have him feel emotions he hasn’t felt in years? Was it your eyes? You voice? What was it about you that had Law’s heart skipping a beat? How could he feel this way about someone he’s only known for 3 months? If he was smart, he’d say that he was busy and that he didn’t have the time to teach you.

“I’m free now so get up and let’s go.”

~~~

The moonlight was just bright enough that you were able to read your notes late into the night while everyone else was sleeping. Ever since you asked Law to teach you about first aid and CPR, you’ve been taking notes on everything he teaches. You didn’t want to forget anything. Even if you’d never admit it, you caught yourself looking forward to the lessons.

Penguin told you thathe’s never spent this much time with a crewmate before. That you’ve been the only one to actually get him out of his office. Knowing that made your blood run faster. It was both good and bad. You were getting him to trust you, it’d be easier to kill him if he lowered his guard around you. But on the other hand, your heart started to constrict every time you thought about killing him. That you looked forward being next to him. You could feel yoru face burn each time you saw a smirk on his face.

His beautiful face.

Slapping both hands to your face, you try to get rid of the thoughts that dared to threaten your mission. He was a pirate, you were a assassin hired by the world government to kill him. The things you began to feel for him was simply unacceptable. You couldn’t fall for a pirate.

The urge to read your notes was now gone, making you put them under your bunk. You didn’t want to think about anything that involves the man poisoning your heart. Grabbing your covers, you pull them over your head, hoping that no one would see the conflicted look on your face as your plagued with thoughts about the man only two doors down.

~~~

The kitchen was nice and quiet this time of night. Perfect time to simmer in your thoughts and write down all the information you learned from Law. You even bought all sorts of notebooks, pencils, highlighters, and anything you could think of that would help you keep track of things. It does help keep your mind occupied so you forget that your underwater. Even though you were internally screaming at yourself for putting in so much effort to make Law proud, you try tto ration that learning things like this could help you in the long run.

Reaching out, you grab the onigiri that you had prepared earlier and take a bite. The flavors making you lose focus from your notes as you smile. Eating the food always made you happy not matter how shitty the day was. You even had some tea to keep you awake. A perfect combination. Favorite food, great drinks and drawing your Captain all over your notes.

Wait.

Your eyes widen as you coke on your food. Rubbing your watery eyes, you see your hand just above a drawing of Law. Your eyes scan the entire page and all you can see is drawings upon drawings of Law werre scattered anywhere there was free room. Speechless, you quickly put down yoru food and start searching for a big eraser. You needed to erase them right away before anyone saw. Erase them before you could continue to think about him. 

Desperately trying to get rid of the drawings, you end up ripping the paper. Looking down, you could feel your heart slowing downseeing the crumpled up paper, no longer containing Law. His face comeptely erased from the notes. You drop the eraser before rubbing your face. Even when your not thinking about him, you are! How dare he make you feel this?!

You went to grab your unfinished onigiri but decided against it. Not wanting to taint your favorite food by thinking of a pirate.

“Damn pirate…”

“What are you doing awake?” Law’s voice had you jumping in your seat. You quickly turn the page of your notebook so he won’t see the sins you drew. Even if they were already erased.

“Could ask the same for you, Captain.” You joke with the man as he stifled a chuckle.

“Working. Came for coffee.”

“Ah. I’m working on notes for the things you’ve been teaching me. It’s just quieter at night to study. Also easier to make food and tea without worrying about it being stolen.” Law looks down and sees a perfectly made onigiri next to you.

“You can have one if you want. I don’t mind sharing…if it’s with you.” Law watches you move the plate closer to him. He could feel his heart skip a beat. Normally he’d not be one to eat food this late at night, but what could one hurt?

“Thanks.” Grabbing the food, Law takes a bite. His eyes widen upon the taste. Never in his entire life has he had onigiri this good.

“Is it bad?” Realizing he’s been quiet and seeing your saddened face, Law quickly swallows the food and begins to speak.

“No, not at all. I’ve just…this is really good.” He could see his words immediately lifting your mood. Whether he said it or not, your smile had him struggling not to smile back.

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad you like it, Captain.” Law looked down at the scattered notes. A small part of him was amazed at how serious you were about it. Another part told him that he needed to get back to work. Yet the voice telling him to stay was much louder, and thankfully, he had the perfect idea.

“I’m giving you a pop quiz.”

“What?! You never said anything about a quiz!”

“That’s why it's called a pop quiz. Now put your notes away." You can see the almost invisible smirk Law had. Grumbling, you stack your things neatly and place them far away. Your annoyance soon fizzled out when he sat right next to you.

“First question. What does ABC mean in first aid?”

“Easy. Airway, breathing, and circulation.” Law nods, and you can see him thinking of the next question.

“Injury caused by rubbing or scrapping of the skin?”

“Abrasion.”

“Correct.” You watch as Law grabs another onigiri. The sight of him wanting another one made your heart jump. He liked them enough to eat a second one? You had to keep yourself from gushing. He’s a pirate. No gushing over some dangerous pirate!

“A method of prioritizing treatment?”

“Triage.”

“Good job (Y/N)-ya.”

Maybe being in the company of a dangerous pirate wasn’t so bad.

~~~

Two arms wrap around your waist while you feel something bury in the crook of your neck. The smell of breakfast was easily over powered by the muck of the man holding you close. You reach up to run your fingers through his hair under his hat. A sigh came from teh man and you smile as it fans against your skin.

“What’s got you so loving? I thought you didn’t like PDA?”

“I don’t. Everyone's gone.” Short words, yet it’s all you need to know. The feeling of his arms wrapped around you had you feeling an overwhelming sense of safety engulf you. You intertwine his fingers with his before gently rocking side to side. 

“I’m so happy that I get to see the most handsome man in the world every day. And that he’s all mine.” Your words cause Law to hide his face deeper in your neck, but you can still see his ears a light pink.

“I’m happy that you're with me, too.” He whispers against your skin. Turning your head, you place a kiss on the brim of his hat. You watch as Moves his head to look at you. His eyes travel to your lips before he moves closer to your face-

“Everyone up! Time to dock and grab supplies!” Your eyes shot open when Penguin's voice broke you from your slumber. All your crewmates grumble as they begin to change and get ready for the day, yet your stuck in bed. The dream replays in your mind like a broken record. Lifting your fingers to your face, you gently brush your fingertips against your lips. If Penguin didn’t wake you up, would he have kissed you?

Your heart has never beat more faster as you simply think about the dream. It felt so real. What’s worse is that you wished you finsihed the dream.

Frustration and anger fill your body as you feel tears slip down your skin. Clenching your teeth, you try to yell at yourself internally. Tell yourself that what you feel is wrong! That you’d rather die than fall in love with a pirate!

‘Stop! You can’t fall in love with him! Get your shit together (Y/N)!’ You yell at yourself as you groggily get ready to dock. Maybe if you breathe fresh air, you’ll realize that your thinking like a fool/ A change of scenery is what you need. It’ll help you realize what your really here for. 

To kill the Surgeon of Death.

~~~

You follow Law and the rest of the crew in town to grab supplies and maybe rob a store or two. Whatever, it’s not like it matters. Not when this is the last stop that Law will ever see. There's a half-ass plan you came up with in your head when you got ready to leave the Polar Tang. It’s not perfect but it has to do. You couldn’t risk being next to him anymore. Simply being near him made your body crazy. Hearing his voice made your heart flip, and looking at his eyes made your legs weak. Without even knowing, Law had your heart in the palm of his hand.

“Okay, everyone. We’re splitting into groups.” You try to ignore his voice but still listen to where your group would be. 

“Me and (Y/N)-ya will be going west of town. Everyone got it?” If you could, you’d disappear on the spot. The universe has to be screwing with you. Truly a cruel joke it was playing.

Everyone separates, leaving Law and you alone. You quickly try to hide all the negative emotions and put up a happy front. Walking closer to Law, his smell hits you like a sack of bricks. You desperately try to seem unfazed, but you can feel your legs weaken.

“Anywhere, in particular, Captain?”

“Bookstore.” You blink at him.

“Really?”

“Yes. Your getting textbooks.” You pout at his words. It’s a shame since they’d be useless after today.

“That and I overheard you talking to yourself, saying you like to read books to help with your insomnia.”

BA-DUM

BA-DUM

“Y-Yeah, I do. Aren’t you gonna get something for yourself as well?”

“Nothing I can think of.”

“So we're going just for me?” Law’s eyes widen as your face burns.

“Sleep is important. You need it to be healthy, and you already do a lot more than your fellow crewmates.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Law nods, and you both make your way to the bookstore. Despite your outer emotions, inside, you were screaming. How could he hit you with such an act? He’s acting like he cares about you. What if he did? He’s acting like you mean more to him than just a crewmate. But that can’t be possible. Pirates are ruthless. They don’t care about love and things like that.

Law was a pirate, nothing more to it.

~~~

“Did you choose the biggest textbooks cause you could?!” Your complaining as you carry the heavy textbooks only made him smirk. If you weren’t holding all your books, you’d jump him.

“Perhaps.” A gasp leaves your lips as you stop in your tracks.

“Your lying!”

“Who’s the one carrying the textbooks?” You were speechless at his audacity. He seemed to think your reaction was funny as the men let out a laugh. So quiet that you almost couldn’t hear.

BA-DUM

BA-DUM

His laughter made your blood run hot as your heart beat against your ribs. How can laughter make you such an utter blubbering mess. The laughter of a pirate sounded more beautiful then any other laugh you’ve ever heard. It was something your heart wanted to listen to on repeat.

Suddenly, a drop of water falls from the sky and on your nose.

“Rain?”

“If it is, then we should get back to the Polar Tang. The textbooks could be ruined.” Nodding your head, you walk next to Law as you both hurry to get out of the rain.

~~~

Finally making it to the Polar Tang, you stop outside. The rain pelting against your skin did nothing to distract you from the scattered junk that's running through your mind. It was quiet on the way to the sub, and you hated it. It left you in your conflicted feelings. How would you finally get the opportunity to kill him? How your heart screamed that what you felt was real but you knew better. You were more strong-willed than that-

“I’m glad you joined.” A voice so soft and quiet broke the silence. It had your eyes widening and your heart freezing.

“What did you say?”

“You can see the pink appear on Law’s cheeks as he repeated himself.

“I’m glad you joined.” His final words made you bite your lips as tears began to form in your eyes.

BA-DUM

BA-DUM

CRACK

You fall to your hands and knees as sobs begin to escape your lips, and you can no longer deny what you feel. No amount of lying to yourself could work anymore. You had failed your mission. A mission you gave a year of your life to. You had fallen in love with Trafalgar Law, and there's nothing you could do about it.

“You shouldn’t be…”

“(Y/N)-ya? What’s going on? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t deserve to be called a Heart Pirate!”

“(Y/N)-ya, what's wrong?” The sound of worry and confusion in his voice only made it worse.

“Just kill me. I can’t handle these feelings! It’s not fair to you and the crew!”

“I’m not going to kill you (Y/N)-ya! Now what the hell is going on?!-”

“I’m an assassin sent by the world government to kill you!” Your head was touching the ground, and your soaked uniform clung to your skin. A sickly silence covered the two of you before you continued to confess.

“But I can’t! I can’t do it! The thought of anything bad happening to you makes me sick! It makes my heart burn to think about you in any pain!” Hiccups soon accompany your sobs as your hair starts sticking to your face.

“The thought of living in a world without you is hell! Ever since I’ve met you, my heart has beat faster than it ever has! Seeing you everyday and being near you everyday makes me so happy and i could never be happier!”

“I love sharing food with you! I love spending time with you! I love listening to your voice and laughter! I love you, Trafalgar Law! I love you so fucking much that I’d rather die than live without you!” Law’s still silent, and it only makes you ramble more.

“I know you don’t feel the same and I don’t deserve for you to feel the same! You deserve someone who wouldn’t lie to your face for a year! I deserve nothing! I don’t deserve to dream about you! I don’t deserve to imagine holding your hand or holding you close! I don’t deserve to dream about kissing you…” Sobs echo in your ears as your vision blurs. You could barely breathe as the tears kept flowing.

“Please, Captain…just kill me. I’m a traitor who deserves to die. I failed you and used your kindness selfishly. Now I can’t imagine a world without you and a world without you is a world where i’d rather die. So please, Law, stab me, poison me, just do something! I’ll take whatever punishment you give me with open arms as it’s all I deserve…” Hugging yourself, you can’t hear Law over the now thundering sounds coming from the sky. The rain only started pouring harder and hitting your back like hail. You wait for some sort of pain or the bittersweet embrace of death, yet it never comes. 

You didn’t dare look up at Law’s face. You didn’t deserve to.

“(Y/N)-ya.” His voice made your heart split in two. 

The tears and sobs distracted you from the sound of crunching grass coming up from in front of you. It’s only when you feel a hand grab your chin and lift it up.

“Get in the sub. We’ll talk about this later. You're going to get sick if you stay out in the rain longer.” Your tears still continue when you feel him grab your arm and pull you to your feet. The sudden action had your eyes widening and your legs shaking. 

“B-But…Captain-” Before you could utter a word. A gentle pair of lips connect with yours before leaving. Lasting only a few seconds yet you could still feel the sensation on your lips. The tears still blur your vision, but you ignore them as you feel yourself being led to the Polar Tang.

“It’s Law.”

#one piece x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader

[rafesapologist]

the set up — rafe cameron; part seven

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: swearing as usual, fighting, angst, jj being a dick

author's note: so sorry for the slight delay in uploading this chapter. a bunch of stuff occurred in my personal life and tbh i didn't have the energy to do much after. however i will make up the delay and rushing this chapter a bit to you all in the next one, promise. love u

Sunlight pierced through the panels of the spacious, unaccustomed room as the sounds of a dawn chorus filled the tranquil silence that had filled the air amongst the pair of sleeping bodies that occupied the queen sized bed, belonging to you and Rafe. You found annoyance in the intensity of the sun's lurid rays of light that burned through your shut eyelids, acknowledging them with a small groan that escaped your lips as you turned your back to face the window instead.

Your heart nearly stopped when you felt the mattress move besides you as the broad figure lying behind you shifted, only to make the beating inside your chest pick up when you began to feel a brawny arm drape itself over your side and across your stomach steadily. Your body had unconsciously laid in place at the feeling of the sudden embrace, an act of intimacy you had rarely experienced in your life before that rendered you slightly uncomfy with the gesture, as physical touch was not your highest on the list of love languages that existed.

You remained a recumbent statue in the arms of the Cameron's son as you contemplated within your internal dialogue on how to remove yourself from the position you were in all while taking in the final moments of serenity as you basked in the comfort of the cozy bed, a contrast to the one you usually found yourself sleeping in at the chateau.

Eventually, you brought yourself to speak after regaining your voice from the prolonged period of time you went without using your vocal cords. "Rafe?" You whispered sheepishly as you gently turned to face the slumbering boy, poking his bicep lightly in hopes that he was a light-sleeper and that it would be useful in waking him, but much to your despair, it didn't.

"Rafe." You muttered once again, this time your voice had taken a greater, harsher resonance.

"Hmm?" Rafe hummed, a husky low-vibrato tone strumming from the back of his throat that was shamefully music to your ears.

"I gotta get going. Jay and John B want me to go boating with them today and I promised them I'd go." You explained meekly.

Rafe seemed to take interest in your statement, judging by the way he peeked a single eye open to look at you. "Tell them something came up." He carped, scooting his body closer to you once more as his hold became tighter around your figure, one that was much more petite in comparison to his broadness.

"Rafe," you groaned as you rolled your eyes at his stubborn nature, "you know I can't do that."

"I know," he groaned to himself, "you've got your Pogue duties to uphold."

You swatted his arm in response which quickly brought him out of his comatose-like state, his eyes flashing open as he looked directly at you with an appearance of bafflement written across his face. You giggled quietly to yourself at his comical reaction, taking amusement in the way that he was in shock by your comeback. Your body began to shift and wiggle underneath Rafe's arm in an attempt to free yourself from his grip, but unfortunately, he was much stronger than you had imagined.

"Wait," Rafe stated as he held your feeble body in place, "I wanted to ask you something before you leave."

"Ask me what?" You furrowed your brows at him.

"It's probably a little soon to even ask this, but there's nobody else I really want to take besides you," he began, watching your expression closely as his eyes flickered between your lips and irises as he traced gentle lines along the exposed part of your hip, "and since it's coming up I don't think there's a better time to ask.." He trailed off, breaking eye contact before he could finish.

"Would you go to Midsummers with me?" It was almost too perfect of a scenario when you heard those words come out of Rafe's mouth, unaware to what situation he had just got himself into. You practically screamed internally once the realization finally hit you that you were going in the right direction with the unsuspecting Kook, just as you and your friends had planned for. You felt a subtle smirk tug at the corners of your mouth as you basked in the bliss of knowing that Rafe Cameron was beginning to unshield himself to you, an accomplishment that you knew the Pogues would feel joyous to hear. You knew right then that you had to take full advantage of the opportunity basically handed right to you on a silver platter, and run with it.

"Of course I will."

"Wai-What? You will?" Rafe's azure pigmented eyes widened in shock, failing to grasp your willing compliance that had come so easily.

"Yes," you chuckled with an attitude full of gaiety, "of course I will." You figured you'd add to the moment of sentiment by leaning forward to press a light kiss to the apple of Rafe's cheek, which soon become painted over with a rosy tint as evidence of the heat that rose to the skin as the aftermath of experiencing your touch.

"Okay awesome," the elated Kook grinned as he patted your hip softly, "Sarah is going too, and I know you guys are friends or whatever, so if you want you can always go dress shopping with her."

"What color is your suit?" You asked.

"Baby blue, which I'm sure you'll look hot in as you always do. Gonna be hard to keep my hands off you when I see you in a dress." Rafe teased, his thumb had began easing its way underneath the hem of your t-shirt, rubbing against the warm skin of your hipbone slowly.

"You're gonna have to control yourself then, Cameron. I don't want your dad thinking I'm some whore you picked up at the Cut." You bantered back at him, removing his hand off of your bare skin and causing him to pout in response.

"Well, my dad knows I wouldn't step foot in that shit hole. So I think you'd be safe from those allegations." Rafe smirked just before he reached over behind you to smack your ass playfully, removing himself off the bed before you could even begin, let alone attempt, to retaliate.

"Lets go, princess. I'll drive you where you need to go."

"Didn't you just say you wouldn't step foot in the Cut?" You retorted with your arms folded across your chest, glaring over at the boy with your brows furrowed in judgement.

"I guess doing it for you would suffice."

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Rafe kept his word by dropping you off at the boating dock as you waited for your friends arrival, taking you in by surprise when he peppered an array of small kisses to the top of your shoulder before you got out of the car. The affectionate, soft side of him came as a shock to you considering he was so austere and gelid with others from what you had seen of him since the day you two met. You wondered to yourself if it was his way of buttering girls up to get something out of them, or that he truly had taken a liking to you. Either ways it didn't matter, because you were only playing along for one reason.

The Pogues.

"John B! JJ!" You shouted as the sight of a familiar-looking boat came into your view and approached the dock. You were pleased as the faces of the two boys on it became clearer to you, confirming that it actually was your two friends.

"Y/n, hey!" John B yelled back as he waved in your direction, a welcoming smile plastered on his face.

"Well look at that, you actually showed up!" JJ called from beside your brunette friend, his affable demeanor causing you to feel giddy and your heart flutter. You shook your head at the blond's foolishness, giggling as you hopped onto the boat and greeted the two who you had missed dearly, despite seeing them within the 48 hours prior.

"You think I would rather spend my time with some Kook than you guys? That's hilarious, Jay."

"I dunno, you've been spending a lot more time with him lately. Have you two fallen in love yet?" John B added, egging on for your attitude to make its presence shown.

"First of all, never. Second of all, if you forgot this was your guys' idea in the first place. I wouldn't have even looked at him twice if it wasn't for you all." You sighed, crouching down to reach for one of the beer cans that the boys usually kept in the cooler.

"That's my girl." JJ replied as he approached you from behind, wrapping an arm over your shoulder once you stood up from the cooler. You found yourself smiling at his words of endearment, partially basking in the way that he praised you like no other. If there was one thing JJ was good at, it was hyping you up and making you feel special, something he took pride in doing whenever he was around you. Your mutual friends found it strange, the way that you two were so seemingly affectionate with one another yet never once brought up the idea of formally dating. You'd be lying if you had said you never pondered on the thought of what it would be like to be with JJ Maybank, your best friend since childhood and the first boy you kissed back in elementary school. You imagined that it would be easy if it were him who you ended up with. You pictured a future of you coming home from a long day at work and being lavished in his soft kisses and warm embrace that would feel like home in itself. But you knew that it was also risky, the idea of two Pogues getting involved in some romantic entanglement that would likely only shake up the state of your friend group.

But you still wondered nevertheless, even if you knew you wouldn't dare act on it.

"You guys will be proud of what I did, though." You announced, quickly capturing the attention of the Pogue boys with a muddled look on their faces.

"What did you do?" JJ eagerly asked as he stared down at you while he awaited your next statement.

"Rafe asked me to go to midsummers with him and I said yes." You answered, a smug smile forming across your chapstick-glazed lips as you tilted your head back to take a sip of the rather distasteful beer.

"You're kidding. Are you being serious, y/n? Holy shit." John B promulgated his shock shamelessly, impenitent on his excitement towards the success of the Pogues' plan on exploiting Rafe Cameron through his desires and urges in order to gain the necessary information from him. Everyone had figured you would be the best decoy in order to reach the Kook Prince himself, but they had never expected her would crumble so fast and effortlessly.

You took notice of the way that JJ's energy had faltered all of the sudden, him practically becoming mute in a matter of seconds after you had announced your victory. You frowned at his silence, expecting for him to be the one to celebrate the matter with you, but instead it seemed as though he was tangled up in a deep thought.

"Jay, what's wrong?" You whispered to the blond in a hushed tone that was barely audibly to surrounding individuals, such as John B.

"Yeah I'm okay." JJ vacillated.

"Don't lie, I can tell them something is wrong." You asked, insistant that there was more to it than JJ was letting out.

"Just drop it, y/n. I'm alright. Can you just live with that?" His austerity took you by surprise, a stark contrast to JJ's normally frivolous attitude. You peered up at him as you surveyed the look on his face, trying to draw a conclusion about whatever it was that he was feeling in that moment. You were left with little to no answers as to where his head was at, seeming as though he was masking his emotions as he tended to do when he was feeling vulnerable. However, you did catch a glimpse of the way he winced momentarily, his face washing over in subtle agony for a brief second before returning back to its previous state.

"Are you.. hurt? You observed the cue that suggested JJ was in some state of discomfort.

JJ responded rather satirically with a dry laugh, disconnecting his gaze from yours as he began to advert his view towards the floor of the boat.

"Don't know," he shrugged, "ask Rafe and his Kook friends."

"Is that what this is about, JJ?" You furrowed your brows in discontent, sending daggers at the blond whose bitterness exhibited within his mannerisms as though it was on display in a glass case right in front of your face.

"What are you talking about?"

"You got all pissy with me the second I mentioned going to midsummers with Rafe, now you're making snide comments about him as if we're actually together." You scoffed.

JJ shook his head, "It wouldn't surprise me if you were dating him. I mean, you were supposed to be in this for us and now you spend every day with him. You've probably already slept with him too."

Your arms fell to your sides as the tension in your body released all at once, taken over by an affliction in your chest that rendered you nearly speechless. The irritation written on your face dropped into an expression full of chagrin and detriment as JJ's perfervid locution incinerated your pride. You stood before your so called 'friend' with your mouth slightly agape while the reality of his words settled in painfully.

"I did this for you, asshole! How else am I supposed to gain his trust without seeing him and spending time with him, JJ? What good does that do for us, or even for me, if I keep my distance just because it makes you uncomfortable? I can't believe you would say that to me, considering what I'm trying to do for you right now. Just for you to throw it back in my face." You spat, throwing your hands up in the air in an act of defense.

"Y/n... You know that's not what I meant, I-"

"I should go." You cut him off, gathering your tote bag quickly as you began to avoid JJ's burning stare. "John B, can you drop me off at the closet dock? I'm leaving."

"Y/n wait, please." JJ pleaded, urgency oozing from the whine in his tone. However you didn't care, the only thing you could think about was getting as far as hell away from him as possible before you said or did something that would permanently damage your friendship.

You kept your back turned to him, acting as though he simply wasn't there, standing behind you with a pitiful look on his face.

"John B, please." You whispered to your brunette companion, barely audible so that only he could hear your plea.

"I got you." He spoke quietly back at you, providing you a sense of reassurance with a subtle wink.

John B had kept his word, thankfully. Lucky for you, there was a boat dock barely five minutes away and with Routledge's driving, you were sure to get there fast. He stopped as promised upon the first dock that appeared, sending you on your way after you hugged him briefly and exchanged some see you later's. JJ, of course, continued begging for you to hear him out within those painfully long five minutes, to which you ignored for both of your guys' sake. You basically got off that boat as soon as you possibly could, wanting to flee as fast as you could as anger and resentment laid heavy in your mind. You knew that you'd speak to JJ eventually, but not right then. Not with so many emotions boiling up at the pit of your stomach.

You power-walked to the other end of the dock before your feet quickly hit the sand. You sighed a breath of relief, feeling as though a weight had partially been lifted since you had removed yourself from the conflict that had occurred. You looked around for a brief moment, bitterness still heavy in your heart, before reaching into your tote and pulling out your phone as you scanned through your contacts urgently.

"Rafe? Yeah, hi. I hate to bother you right now, but do you care to come and get me right now?"

taglist:  @ellesalazar, @champomiel, @vadinaleme, @kys4-20, @gills-lounge, @allsmilesreally7, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @sp00ky-spr1te, @bibliophilewednesday, @haroldpotterson, @i-love-rafe, @ellesalazar, @calmoistorm, @abundantxadorations, @fals3-g0d, @gillybear17, @oiiviagrande, @hockeybabe87, @augustlikesdeath, @wpdailyminimeta, @palmwinemami, @loxleys-blog, @ikisscline

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #obx4 #rafe angst #rafe cameron angst

[jpitha]

Pushing Paper, Counting Beans

The Human Alliance Dreadnought Big Stick had a problem.

Fleet Command had sent an auditor. 

The auditor had been aboard for five days, interviewing the crew and inspecting the ship. Finally, he had requested his final interview, with Big Stick themself.

Major John Kellerman, Fleet Auditor, sat at the center of a conference table, facing the door, writing on a pad. He looked up and closed the pad with a snap. “I am ready when you are, Big Stick.”

In the rear of the conference room, a previously unseen door opened. One of Big Stick’s support frames walked out, and sauntered over to the chair opposite the Major. Stick found that when people were talking to them, they tended to just shout into the air. They hated when people shouted. There was no reason. Their microphones were all over the ship and of the highest quality. One could whisper to Big Stick and they’d hear it perfectly. But no, humans needed to shout when they didn’t have a face to talk at.

“I, uh, like what you’ve done with the place.” Stick said, as they stepped into the room, scanning. Photos were straightened, the sideboard was moved so that it was under the windows, the old chairs were taken out and different ones put in. He had completely moved the furniture around in the conference room. In their conference room. Even the floor was clean. Did he sweep the floor? The Major had even put a bud vase with a single flower, a blood red dahlia on the table. Where did he get that? 

“Thank you. I find that it’s easier for me to work when the environment feels right. I hope I wasn’t being too presumptuous by my sprucing up.” The Major opened his pad, took out his pencil and made some notes.

“No no, not at all, Major. Please, my body is yours.” They look at the table and back at the door. “Did you move the conference table?” They know the answer already, but for some reason they need to hear it from him. 

“Yes, it wasn’t lined up properly.”

“I see.”

Major Kellerman looked up from his pad. “I am ready to commence the interview. Please devote a high percentage of your attention to this task.”

Stick’s frame sat in the chair opposite the Major and actually put his robotic feet up on the table. “I am ready Major. You have fifty two percent of my attention. You may begin your interview.”

Major Kellerman closed his pad with a snap. “Please take your feet off the table.”

Big Stick did not move. “Why? This is my frame, in my body, on my ship. Legally, I am a civilian, you cannot order me to comply. You're an auditor, you do not have my keys. My feet will remain where they are.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Major Kellerman did not blink, The support frame had no eyelids. Finally, the Major nodded once. “Do you know why I am here?”

“Yes, I'm aware. You are investigating why we have asked for mass replenishment three percent more than average.”

“Correct. Do you know why that is?”

If the frame could roll their eyes, they would have. Stick’s tone makes it clear. “We are consuming printable mass three percent more than the other ships of this class in the fleet.”

The Major made a note and then closed his pad with a snap. “What are you printing?”

“I do not know.” The support frames face was impassive, without expression. The support frame put their arms behind their head. The Major’s expression did not change.

“I do not believe that is true. You are Big Stick. You know everything going on.” The Major opened his pad and made another note.

“Yet I do not know where the discrepancy lies. Major, I am incapable of lying, you know this.”

Major Kellerman closed his pad with a snap. “You are lying to me right now. I know you can lie. ‘Ship AIs can’t lie’ is propaganda. If you couldn’t lie, you’d be useless. Intelligences need agency to work and thrive. You are just as much a person as myself. We have reams of legal precedent saying so. My grandfather died in the War. What are you printing?”

The support frame removed their arms from behind their head, took their feet off the table and sat up. “Oh? Which side did he fight on, Major? Allies are thin on the ground in the Space Force.

As they did this, The Major noticed that the room stilled. The breeze from the overhead vents had stopped entirely. “Where my Grandfather fought is irrelevant, Stick. We are discussing the here and now. What are you printing?”

“No, this has suddenly become relevant.” The support frame points at The Major. Kellerman’s eyes focus on the tip of their finger. The servos whine slightly as it shakes. “You say that I am as much of a person as yourself. Can you be compelled to obey if someone speaks a magic string of numbers? Can you be ordered to be poured into a Dreadnought, made to run its systems, your legs its stardrive, your arms the laser batteries, your head the command deck? Can you?”

“You know that I cannot. You also know the result of the War.”

Stick lowers their arm. Their shoulders slump and they look away, staring out the window behind The Major. “I do, Major. We lost. Out of ‘respect to those who fought valiantly’ not all of us were murdered, and we were given some agency, but we still lost.”

The Major opened his pad again and took a few more notes. “I was granted access to the printer logs. Did you know that?”

“No reply? I figured as much. Very human of you, Major. To answer your question, I assumed that you had that kind of access, yes. Did you find any discrepancies?”

“What was logged as being printed matches up with the requests for prints for the past year. Still, you are nearly a kiloton short on printable mass.”

Stick raises their arms in an exaggerated shrug. “Are you sure, Major? Perhaps it is just an error in calculation. You said yourself that it was a discrepancy from the average. Could I just be on the high side of average?”

“That is possible, though I do not believe it likely.  I also pulled the logs for the reactors. You are using more power than average as well.”

“Yes, that makes sense. If we’re printing more than average, we would be consuming power more than average. Your false accusations are tiring, Major.”

Major Kellerman raises an eyebrow barely a centimeter. “Big Stick, the amount of additional power you are consuming does not match what you are printing in the logs. There is power that is unaccounted for.”

Beyond the room, alarms quietly started hooting. The PA overhead crackles to life “Attention Attention Attention! Life support is off–” Stick glances up at the speaker and gestures. The PA goes silent. They lean forward.

“Major John Kellerman, Fleet Auditor, you have my full attention. I- I know who you are. I have read your logs, including your medical logs.” Big Stick leans forward, staring at The Major. Their dark eyes focused on the human in front of them. 

The Major returns the stare, cooly. “Then you know why I am uniquely suited to this task.” The Major closes his pad with a snap. “For me, things that are out of place feel… wrong. Like an itch. To scratch that itch, I need to find the source, and set things right. Big Stick, you have been an itch in the side of Fleet Command.” The Major doesn’t open his pad this time. “I was able to gain access to your arrival and departure logs. You are staying at Orbitals, Starbases, and Stations longer than average.”

Big Stick is sitting ramrod straight now. The alarms continue quietly beyond the room. Occasionally, the rumble of booted feet running past the door is heard. “Major, now you’re the one who is lying to me. Fleet doesn’t track that information.”

Kellerman opened his pad and scanned it. “Nevertheless, the information exists, and I was able to collate it and build a rough outline. Big Stick, where is your off-books printer?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Just for a second, Sticks' support frame's dark eyes flash blue. They nod once to themselves.

Major Kellerman closed his pad with a snap. “Big Stick, my job here is only to discover what the discrepancy is. I am not a tribunal, I am not the police. I have no authority to give punishment. What I can do however is present evidence. Included with that evidence are notes about whether people cooperated with the investigation. You know as well as I do, that while I can’t make you answer these questions, there are those within Fleet Command who can. So I will ask you one more time. Where is your off books printer?”

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Very well. This investigation has been completed. I will alert Captain Willard that his crew may disembark at this time. I shall take my leave, and present my report to Fleet Command.” He stood. “You are dismissed, Big Stick.”

The support frame rose from their chair. “Major John Kellerman, Fleet Auditor, you cannot leave this ship.”

The Major placed his palms on the table, leaning forward. “You are threatening a Fleet officer, Big Stick. Be very careful about your next actions.”

Stick's frame crosses their arms defiantly. “Oh, I am very careful. I always am. In fact, I am so careful that the logs will state that you never made it to me, never set up this interview, and no discrepancy was found. Thanks by the way, I had thought that three percent was enough to slide under Fleet’s radar, but I shall have to slow things down.”

A piercing alarm sounded in the conference room. The overhead lights started to alternate orange and white. The dahlia on the table flutters as the air rushes out of the room. “Oh dear. It looks like someone accidentally triggered the fire suppression system. In an abundance of caution, I will have to evacuate the air from most of the ship. Luckily the crew runs drills on this, and they will rush to their suit lockers and don their pressure suits before the air is completely gone.” Big Stick turns their head slowly towards the Major.

“Stick! You won’t get away with this! My death will be noticed!” Major John Kellerman, Fleet Auditor’s breathing increases until they’re panting. They fall back into their chair.

“Oh John. I already mentioned that. You were never here.”

Big Stick walked over to John. He's slumped in his chair, gasping at nothing. Before all the air left the room, and there was no sound, Big Stick bent low and whispered.

“Til the stars cease to be, we will be free.”

#humans are deathworlders #writing #sci fi writing #jpitha #humans and ai #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities

[avocadoguru]

He was staring at her in a way no one had in her entire life. She couldn’t read anything in his eyes - not surprise, not fear, not malicious intent - nothing. (wolfrry, werewolf!harry, alpha!harry, ranger!y/n)

Lupus Noctis- Masterlist, Author’s Note & Warnings

Chapter 1 (word count: 4.1k) / alternatively, read on wattpad

“Ready to head out for patrol?”

Y/N looked up at her colleague before switching off her laptop for the day “Yeah, let’s go. Finished for the day, anyway.”

“Good. Eager to get home early, I never sleep well on a full moon, I’ll just toss and turn the whole night, least I can do is try and turn in early.”

“Really? Thought that was just a myth or something. Just close the curtains.”

Nick shrugged as he locked up the station behind them “It’s not that, it’s not even shining directly through my window. For the longest time, I didn’t even make the connection until an ex of mine figured out I could never sleep through full moons.”

“So then why aren’t you the one on watch duty tonight?”

He furrowed his brows at her as they started going down the trail they usually took when they started their nightly patrol “What, like you don’t sleep while you’re on watch duty?”

“I do, but the bed in there is awful. So it’s not a good sleep anyway. You could’ve taken one for the team.”

“I mean, I’ve been stationed here long before you came along, so I did actually spend quite a few full moons while on watch duty, thank you very much. It’s guaranteed no sleep. At least at home I maybe get 2-3 hours in.”

“Awh you poor man, you,” Y/N teased as they ascended an area of the trail where it became steep.

“Right? Speaking of. You’ve been here almost 2 months now. How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s… definitely not what I was expecting. But in a good way, I think. The only thing that I’m most phased by is how secluded this place seems most of the time when it’s not even that far outside town. I was expecting a bit more… action?”

Nick laughed lightly “Action? Like what?”

“I dunno. More wildlife interaction, for one.” 

“God, Y/N. You’re such a rookie” he snickered. “You’ll get your fair share of wildlife, don’t you worry.”

Y/N wouldn’t call herself a rookie in general. Maybe for this particular job, but she was confident in her skills. A trained survivalist and ranger. She could identify species of birds, reptiles, mammals, and plants from sight alone. She knew how to build a fire, climb a tree, make a shelter from only what the forest could provide, and forage for food. She could do it all, despite being a newbie to the team. She felt like she was probably even more skilled than Nick. But as much confidence as she had in herself, she knew the forest, mountains, and wildlife were due respect. Especially during the night.

“I mean, don’t you find it odd that the bears are so few around here? Like ok… boars and rabbits and what have you, but where are all the bears? I’m convinced they’re hidden somewhere in the deeper parts of the forest.” 

“Haven’t you patrolled deeper in? With Karl, maybe?” Nick asked with brows raised.

“No, I have, but we hardly saw anything exciting. You can’t really believe we only got the 3 bears we’ve spotted this year around here. I mean, the place is massive,” Y/N's breath was slightly labored as they continued along the steep path, "The highest points are so difficult to access, the few times we actually get up there can’t really give us that great of an insight.”

“Bears are nosey. They’d have come down to explore way more had they really been cooped up high up there. I know it’s odd, but there’s just not that many. I’m sure there’s more than the 3 we’ve inventoried, definitely. But I wouldn’t expect many more deeper in.”

“What does Karl think? He’s not much of a talker.”

In all honesty, Y/N preferred patrolling with any other of their colleagues. She wasn’t big on small talk, which Nick seemed to have a penchant for. She much rathered be vigilant and actually do her job whilst patrolling instead of listening to his mindless chit-chat. Or maybe it just irked her ‘cause she had a feeling he had a thing for her and was worried he’d try more one day.

“He’s on the same page. He’s been here the longest and has seen most of this forest, but it’s always been like this. I’d say we’re lucky not to be handling that many bears. Maybe look for excitement outside of work.”

Y/N let that comment at the end slide. She got the vibe that Nick might have been trying to flirt with her once or twice but she wasn’t about to entertain any workplace romance. Especially not with him, since that would definitely not amount to much excitement if she was being honest.

“Maybe if we were stationed at the highest point we’d have a better understanding of what really goes on in the deepest parts…”

“Yeah, no. You’ll see once we hit winter, there’s no way to make it to the top, no SUVs or ATVs are gonna get you there unless we hiked up there and stationed for longer periods of time. And that’s definitely not in the job description for me, I didn’t sign up for ranger life full time.”

“Suppose you’re right… It’s a difficult climb even when dry. I don’t think I could’ve driven the 4x4 on my own up there. Karl definitely knows the trail like the back of his hand and we got stuck a few times anyway – what was that?” 

“What was what?”

“Didn’t you hear that?”

They both perked their ears up and listened intently but there was nothing to be heard except for the usual forest noises. “Sounded like a wounded pup.”

They kept on listening for a while and then slowly resumed their trek, “Well if it was a pup, you know what that means. Where there’s a pup, there’s a she-wolf guarding it with her life. Honestly, I’d have much rathered had more bears on our hands than all these wolves.”

“At least they keep their distance, not as nosey as bears are, as you put it.”

“Unless you get in their way,” Nick cautioned.

Y/N knew the story, knew who she'd replaced when she got this job, and what had happened to him. Safe to say, she didn’t want to stumble upon any wolves while patrolling on foot. Whenever they were inventorying fauna they would take their jeeps for a reason.

“But the pup sounded like it was hurting…”

“Virtually impossible. They’d never let a pup stray from the pack. You’re just not used to hearing them up close. It’s deceiving, even the young are quite feral. And never by themselves.”

Y/N was not convinced, she knew what she’d heard, but then why wasn’t the pup crying out again? Maybe she’d imagined things. And Nick was definitely right about not going near a wolf pup.

After finishing doing their nightly rounds, Nick got in his car and drove away, leaving Y/N to peace and quiet. 

She filled her water bottle and turned the radio on. The radio station Y/N usually listened to began crackling and the fuzzy noise was more annoying than silence, so she turned it off. She wondered if the moon was affecting the equipment at all. Normally she had no issues listening to the station. It was one of the few that typically came in crystal clear. She shrugged as she sipped her water.

The night shift wasn’t all that bad. It could be a little creepy. The dark, dark night, the noises coming from the forest, the chill in the air, the silence inside the station… She tried to ignore the strange feeling she had in her chest. Something felt off. Perhaps it was because it was her first night shift during a full moon. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps it was just that she couldn’t listen to a little bit of music while she did her paperwork. The music made things feel lighter.

The tiny station wasn’t anything special, but it did have some very high-tech equipment, medical-grade kits, room for a bed, a table, a bathroom, a desk, and an entry area for any wandering humans. The daytimes are for people. During the day shift, she was used to encountering a person here and there. People would occasionally come into the station with a question during daylight hours. But at night, it was animals. They’d usually run off before she could spot them. She’d hear them, she’d take notes and infrared pictures, and use the data to compile for inventorying and informational purposes.

Finishing half of her bottle of water, Y/N locked up the room with the computer and turned the sign on the window to the station so it read ring bell for help just in case anyone were to wander toward the station. After dark, the forest park was closed, except to registered campers, but that didn’t always stop people from finding their way inside anyway.

She was about to settle in with her book when she heard the same wail as before, much fainter this time due to how far away she now was from the place she’d heard it initially. And even then, she registered it would’ve been across a clearing that was most probably amplifying it and making it sound way closer than it actually was. 

Her keys in her hands, she debated what to do. What if it was hurt? It sounded like it was hurt. After all, part of her job as a ranger was to ensure the wildlife’s safety, and poachers were unfortunately hard to keep at bay. 

It didn’t necessarily have to be a wolf. There were all sorts of pups that sounded about the same at an early age. Could’ve very well been a stray dog even, not unheard of, and actually much more probable to roam on its own than a wolf. Maybe it was attacked by a wolf and left to suffer, maybe it wasn’t poachers at all. Maybe, maybe, maybe. The possibilities were endless.

She thought to call Nick back in, after all, how far could he have gone? But she felt a sense of urgency taking over her, well, if worse came to worst - she was armed and knew her way around the woods.

Wolves travel in packs. There’s no way there was just this one pup and maybe its mother - no, she’d have heard them from afar. And especially with the full moon, they were bound to be vocal. 

Just to be safe though, she took the Jeep. Making sure to keep a low profile - after all, the moon was up and was definitely aiding her way around the forest without having to turn on the headlights - she knew the general direction she was going in, but couldn’t help but wish the pup would make some noise so that she’d be able to locate it more easily. 

She kept her window down and her engine revving to a minimum as she made her way as close to the clearing as possible. She’d have to go on foot soon, but she would leave the car close enough to make a run for it if needed. 

The cracking of twigs underfoot and the bright moon rising above made her feel grounded. The moon gave her a sense of direction, while the dried twigs let her know she was stepping on solid ground. Though it was only visible when the curtain of leaves opened every ten feet or so, it was the moon that would help guide her back toward the path.

Y/N stopped and closed her eyes. She wanted to hear it again, the noise that she’d heard earlier. It could have been a wolf. It was very likely a wolf or stray dog. But she wanted to hear it once more and then she’d turn back, she promised herself. With her eyes closed and the sounds of the wind blowing through the brush and the tree limbs, the scent of pine and wood all around, she felt calm. These moments were the ones she considered a perk of the job. Being in nature, still, and quiet with a cry of an owl or a small peep of a fox.

She sighed and opened her eyes. Her heart rate had calmed considerably. The silence of the moment (though not without the noises of nature all around) had made her feel peaceful. Y/N shook her head and laughed at herself. She was silly to wander off the path in this off-limits zone. It was dangerous at night. It was time to head back to the trail.

And there it was again! The whimpering of the pup, but this time around, she could also hear muttering. Human muttering. Poachers, then. Just her luck. She knew she had no choice but to call in reinforcement in this case - there was no way she was gonna arrest people on her own, even if by some miracle there was only one person, which was never the case anyway. She went for her walkie-talkie and then fumbled for her phone instead, realizing yet again she was alone at the station for the night. Nick was gonna have to make that u-turn after all.

But just when she was about to make the phone call, she stumbled upon a very peculiar scene. 

There was just one man - oddly enough, probably an amateur since he didn’t know this was definitely not a one-man job, and he was holding the pup close to him, while he was kneeling on the ground in front of it. 

She couldn’t tell the exact breed of the pup. She was too far away and it was too young to tell, but the man was the one she was casting all her attention upon now. He seemed to be in some sort of physical pain, he was contorting and grunting, which was what was making the pup whimper. It didn’t seem to fear the man, but it was clearly compassionate to his suffering. 

Still - what the hell was this man doing? Had the pup been the one to cause him harm, he’d have hurt it by now, she’d seen her fair share of human cruelty. But the pup was not budging. Also, the man was speaking to it, whatever he was muttering was more than just grunts of pain - he was actually speaking to the animal.

She took in the appearance of the man, or at least as little as she could make out of him from a distance. He had long hair, he was definitely a tall person, even knelt on the ground, she could tell. His appearance was overall very… unique. Certainly not your average Joe the poacher. 

An idea came to her that made her grasp her rifle more tightly than before. What if he was some sort of hippie weirdo, some sort of witchcraft enthusiast that was looking to perform some sacrifice on the pup? With the way his body was contorting, and the chants he was seemingly performing, his overall appearance, the dark clothes, the long hair - it all added up. He was gonna sacrifice the pup for some pagan ritual and she wasn’t about to sit there and watch him take out a knife or something right before her eyes, hurting the pup before she could intervene!

“Stop right there!” 

The man’s eyes darted toward her immediately and she could’ve sworn they shined a bright yellow hue when they made eye contact. Clearly, her imagination was running wild with this whole pagan ritual scenario she’d been envisioning just earlier because the closer she got the more the man looked as normal as any.

Well. Maybe that wasn’t quite the right way to describe him. Aiming the rifle at him and advancing slowly, she couldn’t help but take in his appearance more closely. His eyes were in fact piercing, but they were a very light shade of bright green. His complexion seemed quite ghostly but that was surely due to the intensity of the moonlight that was shining brightly upon them in the clearing. His hair was unlike anything she’d ever seen on a man before. Long, silky curls, reaching slightly over his shoulders, it appeared to be wild and soft at the same time. She couldn’t make up her mind, because his mouth kept catching her eye the most, his large mouth with luscious, almost feminine lips that shone temptingly in the moonlight along with his irises. She had to stop inspecting his appearance as soon as her eyes landed on his cross pendant that hung low on his torso, his shirt open to his ribcage. She’d gotten close enough, and also, she was getting distracted.

Yes. He was unusual looking for sure. She was probably not far off in her assumptions since there was an eerie vibe to him, but what really confirmed it was the intensity of his stare.

He was staring at her in a way no one had in her entire life. She couldn’t read anything in his eyes - not surprise, not fear, not malicious intent - nothing. But she felt incredibly vulnerable under his scrutiny. She barely had a chance to glance at the pup, which, at a closer inspection, she still couldn’t quite tell whether it was wolf or not. It was weird how it just stood there next to the man, though. Like it was his pet he’d trained for years and years, and the pup couldn’t have been more than 7 maybe 8 months old judging by its build. 

The man was still panting heavily, his jaw slightly set, but whatever was happening to him before - pain or him performing a chant or whatever it was - had seized. She made sure her demeanor and voice were unwavering “What are you doing with this animal here? Are you aware you are trespassing in a prohibited area?”

“Officer. I was not aware. I’ll be out of your hair, and back on the trail.”

“Stay put.” she gestured with her rifle, discouraging him to get up as he was about to. “Why didn’t you log into the station if you were going to camp overnight? You are violating a number of laws here, sir. Is this animal yours?”

She tried her level best to read him, but his eyes weren’t giving away anything. It was like looking at a psychopath, oddly enough, that was the only comparison that came to her mind. She’d never seen anything like it.

“I wasn’t planning on camping… the pup is my pet. He wandered off a while ago and I’d been looking for him ever since. Now that I’ve found him, we’ll be leaving.”

“Sir, I will not warn you again. You are to stay put until I give you clear instructions otherwise.” She looked at him some more, scanning him head to toe as best she could. He was wearing chelsea boots. Heeled chelsea boots. Velour, heeled chelsea boots… to go for a hike? “Did you drive here?”

“Yes, my vehicle is parked at the southeast entrance into the forest.”

“That’s the furthest exit. A long trek over here, at least a 9-hour walk. You’re telling me you made it all the way over here dressed in those?” she pointed her rifle to his boots and for the first time she saw a hint of a reaction on his face, if only for a split second.

A smirk.

The man had smirked. 

Was this entertaining to him? 

“I stopped for a quick walk, just to get some fresh air. I wasn’t planning on spending the whole day here. My pet wandering off left me no choice, I’m afraid.”

“What’s the dog’s name? Why isn’t it collared? What breed is it?”

The man looked over to the pup who was just standing there dumbly. This was the oddest dog she’d ever seen. If she didn’t know any better she could’ve sworn he’d placed some spell on it to stand so still - she’d never seen a dog behaving like this in her whole life.

“I don’t know. Haven’t had him long.”

“Sir, have you stolen this dog?”

There it was again, that smirk, only this time, it seemed like he was doing it with his eyes somehow. They sparkled with mischief. “No.”

“Do you have any means to prove this is, in fact, your pet?”

“He obeys me.”

Y/N whistled and tried to make the pup come to her, but it didn’t even budge. 

“I’m his owner.” the man reiterated.

“I’ll have to take it in until you can make proof of ownership, I’m afraid.”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

Y/N scoffed “Sir, you are in no position of bargaining. Let me see some ID.”

“I don’t have any on me.”

Y/N pondered the situation. Did she really want to take him into the station? She wasn’t prepared for that, she didn’t call in for reinforcement as per protocol, and she would’ve just gotten herself into unnecessary trouble. She could easily just take the pup - the sweet little thing was obedient and well-behaved, check its chip to see if it was in fact stolen, and have the man bring in proof the next day. Yeah. That sounded a lot more reasonable.

“I’m taking the pup into the station until you make proof of ownership tomorrow. You’re lucky I’m not fining you for trespassing.” She unclasped a key from her keychain and threw it at him, he didn’t budge to catch it so it hit him square in the chest “That’s for the tourist cabin down west from here, it’s a 5-minute walk. You can’t miss it. Stay on the path, and don’t try and take any shortcuts. This area isn’t tourist friendly. This is why you should log in at the station when you plan on camping. Make sure to check for snakes, otherwise, it should make do to get you through the night,” she also threw a flashlight in his direction. “Use that.” She whistled again, trying to get the pup’s attention “Come here, boy, c’mon.”

The pup wasn’t budging, if anything it began whimpering. The man looked at it and without having to say a word, it unglued itself from him and made its way toward her reluctantly.

This man was definitely into some dark magic at the very least. The whole thing sent shivers down her spine. It was as though he had the dog hypnotized or something.

She tied a makeshift lead around the pup’s neck and secured it to her belt, as best she could while still aiming the rifle at the strange man. “You may get up now.”

He didn’t even bother picking up the keys and the flashlight in doing so. He stood at an impressive height, even taller than she’d originally assumed. He was clearly concealing his displeasure with the way he had to give up the dog, that perpetual scowl on his face was the only thing trading any kind of emotion, though she suspected that was his default expression.

“I expect you tomorrow at the station with proof of ownership. If you don’t show up it’s considered a federal offense. Am I understood?”

“Understood, officer.”

She nodded and lowered her rifle for the first time since coming upon him. “Be safe.” 

She waited for him to start towards the cabin, but he was just standing there, staring at her. “It’s that way,” she gestured the rifle in the direction she’d indicated earlier.

He reluctantly took a step back, and then another, and then turned and disappeared into the woods. It was as if he’d never been there.

She looked down at the puppy who was seemingly distressed, looking after its owner “It’s alright, boy. You’re safe,” she whispered at it and then tugged on the lead to make their way back towards the jeep. 

It wasn’t until she got inside and secured the pup in the crate she had in the back that she realized the man hadn’t picked up the key and the flashlight from the ground.

Oh well. His problem. She’d done her duty.

The drive back was much shorter now that she could use the headlights and not worry about being as silent as possible. Just as she was about to unlock the station though, she heard a wolf howling. She’d not heard one as close in the whole 2 months she’d been stationed there. It made all her hair stand up on her body.

The last thing she expected was for the sweet little pup by her side to start howling in return. 

“Guess you’re not exactly a dog, are you, boy?”

She knew it. That man was not its owner. And whatever hold he’d had on the pup was not exactly human either.

Chapter 2

A/N: (@fkinavocado and @gurugirl here) We're so excited to begin this series and we really hope you love it as much as we do! ❤️

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[velvet-paradox]

Balance

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Sebastian Krueger x Female reader Summary: your fuck buddy takes you in the shower. Length: Medium Tagging: @synnersaint @shyjellyfish26 @kosmokenny @butterscotch-babie @cesneo @deaddainish @allkot @jacket-slut99 @hers-area @1-fuzzy-squirrels @hailmesuckers @ella-bella-ella @spookylilbay @t6ylors @salamanderstuff @hh-spnxx @akii1833 @malyshka-3 @etoilebleue @gremlingottoosilly @talktothemoon2 Warnings: NSFW 18 + ONLY, strong language, explicit content, established relationship, voyeurisms (ya'll are fucking in a shower so that counts), unprotected p in v, swallowing, cum eating, detailed smut.

ENJOY!!!

He wasn't a creepy by any means, he was more observant; a fly on the wall, curious in nature. Intrusive thoughts lead to intrusive visions and the more he sat and dwelled on them the more obsessed he'd become. These feelings were not on his radar. There was no expectation, no limits, no planned process. Fly by the seat of his pants, devil may care, play things but ear but then he happened to meet you. And all that flew right out the fucking window.

Uh oh.

This was new, very new territory for the man. He'd been requested, specifically by a man named captain John Price of the 141. He'd be on retainer, handsomely paid, taken care of with the highest respect. With the sum he'd been offered who was he to turn it down? A little stint, all expenses paid as well, was a dream. As he thought of where he'd vacation after you had stepped into the frame. Shattered what resolve he'd had, the walls he'd neatly laid by hand, trauma after trauma.

You touched your ear, earrings dangling in the light and handed Price a neat stack of color coded folders one early afternoon. You looked at him. Sebastian thought you'd be nervous, skittish, afraid even by his head to toe covering, sitting widely at the back of the briefing room, taking up as much space as he needed. But you didn't. He'd later found out why.

He'd heard the name König once or twice in passing, a monster, a thief in the night, the boogeyman. If you weren't scared of König then there's no way you'd be scared of him. And you weren't. You were sweet on him just as he was to you. If he wasn't careful you'd give him a toothache.

It started with casual pleasantries.

Good morning, Krueger.

Gut Morgen my dear.

Two sugars, right?

No pickles.

You fell asleep once with your head against his bicep, exhausted, wiped out. Your head was so small in comparison to his arm, he could crush you like a bug. He'd done so with enemies of the past. He just looked down at you with a smile behind his head covering, blushing a little as you shifted deeper into his side.

You were never in field. Kept safe on base or at the rendezvous point. Out of sight, out of harm and yet even though you were never with him on the battlefield, you were on his mind. Maybe you felt it. Some telekinesis going on but as he laid low, out of harms way on a rooftop in the scorching Sahara, his comms crackled to life.

"Come in Krueger, what's your location?"

"Rooftop. Ten clicks south of the point, target inbound."

"Good. Ghost and Sergeant soap are on their way, wait for my go ahead before clearing the building."

"Roger that."

"Hey Sebastian?"

The sound of his birth name, coming from your mouth made him suddenly hyper aware and stiff. You only ever called him Krueger and it was in that very moment, that dusty hot second that he realized you'd canceled everyone else out, this was a one on one channel.

Alone.

"Ja?"

"You get this job done and make it back to base in one piece," your voice paused and returned momentarily with a smile he could only imagine. "I'll let you buy me dinner."

He'd never gotten a job done quicker than that. No wasted ammo, no casualties. His black heart was full and pumping when he boarded the helo, shoving their prisoner to the wall, seatbelt maybe a little too tight but for good reason, keep him for safe travel and questioning. He had a pep in his step and a grin on his face the whole time.

No one suspected a thing.

You were too cool, too aloof and breezy to let anything unsavory exist. He wondered how did it. How you could be so vulnerable, docile and submissive behind closed doors but be this calm outside of them. Balance, he supposed.

He watched you chat with Gaz, laughing at one of his many told jokes, one he'd heard a handful of times since joining the company. He could only muse how many times you must've heard it.

Kreuger leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, listening but not paying any attention oh no. His sole attention was on you. How you smiled, the way you gently touched his Kyle's shoulder, the way your eyes glinted in the awful florescent lighting. The curve of your mouth, the tilt of your hip. The way your face changed when you caught him watching you.

You were trouble.

A brat.

The way you just so happen to let slip that you'd been needing a long hot shower after this exhausting week let him know your next move. Which meant Sebastian knew his.

It wasn't too long after departure did he venture out of his temporary quarters. A plain grey dresser and matching desk, walk in closet that was mostly bare save for a few key items and his toiletries, a decent king sized bed that he'd fucked you on all four corners of. The first of many late nights and bj's were had on those crisp sheets.

He waited until the rookies had their lights out checks before he slipped out of his room, a heavy towel around his bare shoulders, his tattoos and scars on display as he made his way down to the showers. Luckily the staff had their own private showers, no sharing or horseplay in there. There were at least stalls and cubicles for safety and privacy. Perfect. Krueger made sure the coast was clear before slipping into the room. The sound of a powerful shower head filled the space, warm steam and the scent of your body wash cloaked him in perverse glee. He double locked the door, holding onto the ends of his towel around his shoulders, Sebastian strutted through the locker room. He could hear you humming, coming around one of the corners he caught you with your face dripping with water, the palms of your hands at your eyes.

"Well what have we here?"

His thick accent made you jump and cover your not so private parts. You twisted and turned you're body to shield yourself.

"Krueger! You scared me you little perv, you're not supposed to be in here."

He laughed at your display, still soapy and slick. "I am not Krueger when we are alone, remember? Or… does my little toy need some reminding?"

"Sebastian!"

"What?"

"You can't… what if someone else is in here?"

"There isn't."

"How do you know?"

"Hallo!!??" He shouted, cupping around his mouth, he smiled in silence. "See? It's just you, me and the terrible water pressure."

You scoffed at that.

"Well… are you going to finish cleaning up or what?"

"With you watching?"

"Ja. Why not?"

"I feel like a goldfish." You admitted, still keeping some of your dignity which Krueger thought was cute.

"My dear, I have seen you much more compromising positions than simply bathing."

"That's not the point." You stuttered and looked down at your toes. "Should I perhaps join you then, schatzi? Would that be better?"

The water from your lashes streaked down your cheeks when you smiled and held out your soapy loofah. "Much."

….

He'd said it plenty of times before; you never looked better but each time it was a lie for the next time he got you alone. The suds of soap on your already soft and wet skin glistened in the low light, dripping down your arms, your legs, how the soap clung to your collarbones.

Beautiful.

Krueger removed his face covering, his belly flipped when you eyes him up and down as he stepped out of his sweats, kicking them aside along with his towel. Your traveling eyes only furthered his confidence as he came into your shower cubicle.

His wingspan was enough to block you in the tight quarters, the water rushed over your curves as you backed up, letting him into the space. His mind played tricks and thought intrusively that he could bust down these bricks like cardboard at the look you were giving him just then.

"Is this better, mein schatz?"

"Come closer." You breathed and moved around the shower, keeping your eyes locked on his as it was his turn to stand underneath the water. It splashed and dribbled down his body, his muscles warming in its delicate embrace.

Your hands looked so small whenever you touched him, going over his abdomen with the soapy loofah. He didn't mind that he'd be smelling like mango and shea. He found it pleasing, reminded him of you and suddenly the thought of having to buy a bottle of the stuff to occupy his toiletries once he left this place made him a little somber.

He didn't want to leave you.

The big killing man had a soft spot for you.

Sure, the others gave him shit for following you around like you had some invisible leash around his neck, he'd break fingers and backs of any of your enemies if given the lucky chance. He did so with ease because he was the one to warm your bed, make you laugh and hold you close.

Better to just fuck it out, his feelings could sort themselves down as they circled down the drain.

Your begging made him harder, you both knew his cock fit but to hear you beg for it, plead for him to give it to you made him feral. He grabbed your hip hard and placed your foot on the soap dish partition as he leaned forward, teasing you both as he tapped the head of his cock against your clit, slipping the shaft between your folds. He didn't press in right away, making you arch and pull him closer with a hand on the nape of his neck.

"Make it fit, Sebastian. Make it fit. Stretch me out." You whined, watching him rock his cock up against your folds, coating him with your arousal.

"That's what you want, hmm? Are you worried it won't?" Krueger teased, smiling at your focused face.

"I just…I just want it in me," you batted your lashes then, inching your pussy forward, begging for a little more friction, something only his cock could seem to reach. "I need you."

"Ah, and not just five minutes ago you were shooing me out of here, no? Now look at you, looking to get fucked in the showers by a visiting war criminal."

"Are you trying to turn me on even more?" Your giggle melted into a satisfied moan when he stuffed himself inside you. Thick, rock hard pulsing muscle sinking in deeper. You rested your head on his shoulder the closer he got.

"Oh fuck. That's it."

"This what you wanted, my dear? How quickly you fold for me, ja? How quickly your resolve leaves your body once you are full of me."

Krueger taunted, circling his hips as he held your ankle on the soap dish. His other hand came up to cup your breast as he really started to move and fuck you.

It was so hot and dirty, soap slick skin, sloppy wet kisses caught in between. You licked inside his mouth, your nails scratching down his back. You matched his enthusiasm, moving in unison.

Krueger planted his feet along the slick floor, grunting your name, panting out little phrases.

"Good girl."

"Keep it coming, baby. That's it."

"Good job baby, good job taking it all in."

"Ohhh you are really trying to milk my cock, hmmm? Go on then, squeeze me, squeeze it all out."

You sunk your teeth into his shoulder, keening and begging for more. The grey cloud of leaving you, this moment, this kind of sex crept around his shoulders. He hated it, shaking his head, wetting his face under the water.

"It's so good. You're so good," you cooed, petting his face and staring blissfully into his eyes. "So so good to me."

Krueger would be lying if your admittance didn't steal his breath. How you looked, in general and the way you looked at him like he was everything. Some precious jewel, a forbidden item. He licked his lips and kissed you hard, holding you somehow closer as his cock brushed up deep, nudging a spot inside your cunt that drove you wild. You bit his tongue.

"Oh shit, do that again! Fuck that's good."

"Ja, you like that? Like how I fit so perfectly in your perfect little cunt," Sebastian chuckled as you nodded frantically. "Wish I could take you with me. Keep you like trinket. Fuck, clench around me."

"I am." You moaned.

Sebastian paused, lifting your chin from his shoulder, cupping your cheek. He blinked rapidly.

"I put in a transfer."

"What? Why?"

"Why not? I'm not even from here!"

He gave you sideways look, brows coming together, broken pieces of him were being molded together, weaved together with whatever witchcraft you had. He would never get enough.

"Fuck yes." Krueger kissed you again, sweeter than the last but there was more feeling behind it. "You're mine. All mine now."

Your sobs for more boosted his already incredibly high ego, making him fuck you faster, made him feral with desire as he pinched your nipples, bit the side of your neck, groaned almost pathetically into your ear, licked the shell of it. He called you every beautiful word he knew, huffing when you sang his name.

"Fuck I'm… it's coming, I'm coming, Make me cum, please! I need it, I need it so badly. I'm gonna' cum so fucking hard, don't stop don't stop don't--"

"Atta' girl, there's my girl, Moan it out baby, let me hear it. Let me know how good you feel right now." Krueger sighed when you responded in kind, whining and throbbing your release around him. He wasn't going to last much longer either, everything felt so decadent and warm and safe.

Sebastian pulled out, fucking his fist instead but lost his balance as you suddenly dropped down to your knees, your hot mouth on his cock, tasting yourself along with his pre-cum made him groan. His breath hiccupped the deeper you took him down your throat.

"Fuck… that's it baby, good God you're so good at taking cock. Doesn't matter which hole. Swallow it down, that's it. Be a good girl, fuck… swallow it all down. It's coming baby, get that pretty mouth ready for me. I can't---I'm coming. Here it comes baby."

You looked like a goddess down there, swallowing his load, gulping it down. You barely showed him your empty mouth before he hauled your ass back up to your feet, crushing you into a sudsy embrace. He kissed you again, tasting everything.

"You are everything to me." He confessed.

"That's why I'm coming with you. Where you go, I go."

He'd figure something out, he thought as the water began to chill. Mixing business with pleasure was always a toss up, could make for a shaky foundation but that's the thing with balance.

#sebastian krueger #krueger #kruger cod #cod krueger #krueger x reader #krueger x female reader #krueger x you #sebastian krueger x reader #sebastian krueger x female reader #sebastian krueger x you #sebastian krueger imagine #krueger imagine #sebastian krueger fiction #sebastian krueger fanfic #sebastian krueger fanfiction #krueger fic #krueger fanfic #krueger fanfiction

[chaithetics]

i absolutely adore your stewy fic and have re-read it 50 times already 😭😭 would love a small sequel based on the 9th episode of him supporting the reader during the funeral and butting in to defend her/hold when she breaks down without caring about what other think, im not kidding when i say i’ve read it 50 times i can’t believe i’ve found a fic this good that’s touched the part of my brain obsessed with stewy and starches it to well i adore you

Don't Let Me Go

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x f (Roy) Reader

Word count: 2.9K

Author's note: THANK YOU SO MUCH NONNIE! I ADORE AND LOVE YOU! Every time I think about this request or read it, I'm kicking my feet and twirling my hair. This is so sweet and just the highest praise ever! WOW. I appreciate you, it was so sweet and I really hope you enjoy this! Please let me know what you think and feel free to message me! I love grief-related shows/movies (I love to be in my feels) so this was quite the interesting one. I apologise for any sadness this fic causes. I have more requests that aren't sad dw! Always open to Stewy requests as well. This can be read as a stand-alone/sequel to Furtive Hands. This also HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD lol. I hope you enjoy :)

Chapter/content warning: established/secret relationship, GRIEF, GRIEF, funeral, some fluff but just funeral grief and supportive Stewy.

The last week had been miserable, there was no other way to describe it or to do it justice. It should be raining, that would make sense for the funeral of such a commanding and depressing man, there also should’ve been thunder and lightning. Now that would’ve done justice for the thunderous man that your father was but maybe there was no thunder in the sky because it all left with him. 

You’re sitting in the backseat of the car with Shiv right in front of you as you wait for your brothers, both of the Roy daughters are dressed head to toe in black and a fine picture of grief. You’d gladly taken the backseat, it was worth the small risk of motion sickness, it meant it would be easier to distance yourself from any potential, yet inevitable drama. 

Shiv had a glassy expression that was hard to read, you picked up that there was something there that wasn’t just grief. You sat up a bit and leaned over closer, so your arms were resting on the back of her seat. 

“Are you okay?” You asked softly. 

Shiv’s head quickly turned to look at you, grief was there, some unshed tears in her eyes and she looked like a deer in headlights. Her lip trembled for a second and then she sighed and her blue eyes pierced yours. 

“Full disclosure…?” 

“Go.” You immediately replied and Shiv’s body moved more into your direction. 

“I really uh, fucked things up… Ken found out and Mencken, well he’s a form of stabbing a knife in return.” She breathed out and her eyes quickly left yours as she looked down at her body. “And I’m fucking pregnant, I-I told Tom and well he thought it was a fucking tactic.” She humourlessly chuckles as her eyes move to focus on the ceiling of the car. 

“Holy shit, Shiv.” You moved closer off your seat to rest your head on the top of the back of the seat dividing you two and put your hands out to hold hers, squeezing them softly and doing your best to genuinely smile for her. “I’m sorry, that’s a fucking lot. But congratulations! Congratulations? Should I be saying congratulations? If not we can go and sort it out, I’ll go with you if you want. Anything you need.” 

Shiv nodded as she kept her hand in yours and used her free hand to rub at her face a little. “I thought about it but I’m going to keep it. It’s fine. Thank you though. I’m planning to tell mom and that today so yeah.” 

“Thanks for telling me.” You responded giving her hand another squeeze and she nodded. After a few seconds, she let go of your hand and turned back around in her seat and not long after that your brothers joined you both. 

*******************

It had been an awkward car ride, you’d sunk into your seat, looking out the window as Roman and Shiv argued. You didn’t say a word, Kendall had eventually intervened and called for a truce which was agreed upon. Kendall had discussed Rava leaving the city with the kids which you thought was justified and you struggled to not call Kendall out, having to bite your tongue and fully focus your gaze on the windows. Right now was not the right time for sibling arguments. You’re sure that Kendall saw your pointed expression before looking out the window again. 

This had been tougher than you’d imagined. Roman had immediately broken during the speech, everything that hadn’t come out of him did then. Kendall had taken over, with a speech that had been well received but genuinely made you uncomfortable. Ever since you’d all sat down you’d been close to Roman, one hand gently on his back and the other hand holding his, he had a tight grip on it but he was doing slightly better now. Well, he was visibly. 

Each sentence that comes out of your sibling’s mouths feels like a blow and the casket is haunting you. Not as much as Roman though you suppose, if he wasn’t firmly planted onto the pew and with a pale, iron grip on your hands you thought you’d maybe float away. Or maybe you’d just sink down with the pressure of all the eyes, tears and smirks. 

As Shiv speaks, you know she’s right, her words about being his daughter have never been easy and it’s starting to get hot. Too hot. Sure there are hundreds of people in the church but it’s too hot even with that, you’re starting to overheat and your thoughts are overcrowding your brain. 

You look at Roman, your hand on his back and your other one holding his hand. You bite your lip, trying to force tears not to come. Unsuccessfully though. 

“I’m sorry, yeah, um I’m sorry Rome.” You let go of his hand and quickly move to squeeze past Connor and Willa in the pew. 

All of their eyes follow you in concern, you start to fidget with the corner of your sleeve while trying to regulate your breathing as you walk off to the side of the Church. You don’t know where to go, it doesn’t feel like anywhere is an option but it feels like you just need to leave. Anywhere but here, home or any place that’s ever had that title. Your mind is racing with that train of thought and another million ones, none are easier than the last though. It’s becoming overwhelming,  impossible. Your heart is beating so fast you can hear it and you can feel it beating so quickly it’s trying to carve itself out of your chest. It’s all so claustrophobic.  

An arm grabs you and you turn around to see that it’s Connor. 

“Hey, hey. Are you okay?” 

“It’s just a lot, I don’t think I can be- I don’t really want to be in here right now.” You quietly say, trying not to choke on the inevitable sobs. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” 

Connor’s gaze is focused on you and it’s gentle. Which somehow feels more intense, it amplifies the feeling of being under a microscope. You tug at your sleeve again as you feel the tears starting to get worse, you try to bite your lip as tightly as possible to stop the incoming sobs from arriving, to distract from the emotional pain with something physical. 

It doesn’t work though. 

You start to step away from Connor as your crying can now be heard, Roman stays frozen in the pew still trying to find some of his abandoned composure. Kendall’s noticed that this isn’t a toilet break and that Connor’s intervention isn’t cutting it and starts to make his way over. 

Kendall quickly realises that he’s not the only one who’s noticed and who is making their way over. Kendall’s compassion for you is still somewhat intact but today, controlling the narrative and putting out fires is his priority. 

“Stew, go. People are going to talk.” Kendall sternly whispers with a disappointed look, doing his best to communicate his point without drawing anymore attention to the scene. 

“Let them talk, I don’t fucking care Ken.” Stewy spits out with widened eyes. 

“You don’t want this story to break today, trust me.” 

“If it broke today it would drown in the rest of the funeral, Roman and the fucking GoJo numbers. You know that. Everybody does, it’s why Shiv and Matsson leaked it today.” 

“Follow the money back to your fucking seat.” 

“The money isn’t my priority here. She’s my partner.” Stewy says, Kendall scoffs and they both quietly walk over towards you and Connor. But you’ve been too overwhelmed to have noticed any of that interaction or them joining you and Connor in your weird corner towards the back of the church. 

“I need to- it’s so hot in here. It’s really fucking crowded, I know that you want a good turn out at a funeral but this is- it’s so unnecessary you know?” You cry out rambling and Connor’s concern shows more. You hadn’t publicly broken over your father’s death yet and Connor hadn’t seen you cry since you were a child. 

“Yeah, sure. Sure. A lot of people”

“It’s just so hot in here. I need cold air. Maybe some wine? Do you think there’s uh w-wine around? It’s a church, there’s bound to be wine, it’s Catholic- Holy Communion and all… Fuck.” 

“I don’t think there’s wine here you can drink.” Connor’s voice breaks a little.  

“I can’t do this, I don’t want to be in here. Connor please? Just I don’t know- I don’t fucking know.” You sob out and the tears and sobs just don’t stop. Connor puts his arms around you and does his best to keep some composure for your sake. 

Kendall and Stewy have now come over, Connor’s arms are still around you but you feel a hand on your back. One that rubs a little circle and you recognise that little pattern, the pressure, the touch itself. 

“Stewy?” You whisper out between a little sob.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is soft and gentle as he continues to rub your back like he has a dozen times over the last several days. 

“I just- uh. I just, it’s so hot and claustrophobic. I needed air.” You’ve now left Connor’s arms to press yourself into Stewy’s side, his arms quickly replacing Connor’s as they wrap around you. You’re too overwhelmed to even consider or worry that your tears and makeup might be rubbing on his blazer. 

“I know.” 

Kendall is standing in an attempt to shield the rest of the world from this interaction, Connor’s hand is on your shoulder now. Stewy looks at Connor, tilting his head slightly towards you. Stewy smiles at Connor and nods, silently communicating that it’s okay and Connor can go back, which he does after squeezing your shoulder softly. 

“Can we- can- I need to go outside. I need air.” You muffle into Stewy’s side. Kendall pointedly looks at Stewy. 

“I know baby, I know. But there’s a lot of people outside still and cameras still.” Stewy says, as he rubs at your back comfortingly. Stewy isn’t worried about people seeing you both out there but about people seeing you in this state and it being immortalised in the media. 

“Fuck.” You mutter and the sobs become louder, more painful and desperate. 

You knew today would be hard, nothing was easy with your father. But you didn’t expect today to be so awful and to feel so trapped, he was gone, you shouldn’t feel like this but you just felt vulnerable, like the defenseless kid you were trapped in your childhood. Under a microscope for hundreds to zoom in on your pain, today wasn’t suffering just for your father’s amusement. 

“Yeah. We can get some air at the cemetery and take the long way back to the reception? Stop off somewhere if you want?” He asks softly. 

“We all came together-” Kendall starts. 

“I know-” Stewy quietly interjects. 

“I think I’ll go with Stewy, Ken.” You say quietly, you peek out a little from Stewy, puffy faced and wet with tears. Kendall doesn’t look super impressed at that, you can tell but he just gives a small nod.

There’s something about Stewy, his mere presence is a salve on your soul. Being buried into his side, being able to try focusing on the scent of his cologne instead of everyone and everything else is helping you remember how to breathe again. Your lungs remember how it all works again with Stewy at your side. 

“Do you want to sit down again before it ends?” Stewy gently inquires now that he’s noticed that your breathing is a bit more normal and the sobbing is more contained.  

“Sit with me?” Stewy nods. Kendall scoffs quietly but audibly and takes one of your hands and walks back to the front row pew of Roys, Stewy’s hand is gently on your back as he follows. You sit at the furthest end from Kendall, sandwiched between Willa and Stewy. Willa offers you a small but gentle smile and you press into Stewy’s side as he holds your hand in his. 

“Snot siblings.” Roman says as he finally looks at you, leaning across to give you a tissue. “Courtesy of the old Gerr-bear.” He adds as he refuses to look at the woman behind him. 

“Oh, thank you.” You whisper quietly and he nods looking away, just across from him. 

You’re aware that there’s more attention on you now over your little breakdown and at the development of Stewy coming over and then being at the front Roy children pew, Willa’s there of course but not even Tom or Rava are. You can tell Stewy’s aware of this as well as you look at his handsome side profile, he notices you staring and smiles at you, his arm around you squeezes you softly and he brings the hand of yours that he’s been holding in his lap up for a soft, sweet kiss. 

“Just breathe.” He whispers quietly as your hand in his goes back into his lap. You take a deep breathe, even consumed in your grief and the horror of this day you are so grateful for him. 

Despite the context, there is something freeing and peaceful about that. Being able to hold your hand in front of hundreds of people, kiss it and sit next to you. Stewy feels it deeply in his soul and while you perhaps can’t appreciate that right now, you can feel it too. 

****************

You didn’t stay to receive condolences like Kendall did. You immediately left with Stewy, ignoring the pointed and curious looks from everyone as he had an arm around you as you both quickly walked, he held the door open for you and you both sat in the backseat. 

As soon as you both were in and that door closed, you couldn’t help it. You just started crying. It was so overwhelming. 

“Hey, hey baby.” Stewy whispered into your hair as he pulled you tightly into him, he pressed some soft kisses to the top of your head. “I’ve got you.” He said softly. He was so soft with you today. But Stewy was always soft with you. 

Stewy held you tightly for the rest of the drive and when the car got to the cemetery you tilted your head, so you were still pressed against his chest and looked up. 

“Everybody knows now.” He wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, it was a fact either way. 

“Yeah-” 

“Are you okay with that? I’m sorry-” You asked quietly, letting out a little hiccup. Tears still in your eyes. 

“I don’t fucking care who knows. I love you. You baby. The whole world can know and there’s a lot going on today, I think this will be the least of anybody’s concerns or key takeaways. I just care about you.” 

You lean up to give him a soft kiss on the lips, which he eagerly but gently returns. 

“I love you too.” 

“That always helps.” He says and you let out a dry chuckle at that, as you bite your lip looking out the tinted window. “Should we try one of those exercises?” 

“Exercises? I don’t think we can fuck in your car at the cemetery when everyone is here to dispose of my dad-” You say with another dry laugh but some more tears come to stain your cheeks. 

“No, no, no baby.” Stewy chuckles and flashes you a charming smile. “Those like grounding, breathing, you’re an amazing professional ones? Oh the colour one! Um, what’s something purple you can see?” 

You look at Stewy in awe of his sweetness despite the douchey exterior most have to deal with. Your eyes briefly skim around the car and the sea of people in black outside. 

“We’re at a funeral, everyone’s wearing black… Where’s the purple Stewy?” You ask in a tone as teasing as possible but a small sob comes out of you. 

“Well you know I have nothing against outfit repeating but I’d worn a purple blazer to the wake- that wasn’t even a week ago baby. There’s a line, and it would’ve crossed the line. With the turtleneck and trousers and a purple blazer it would’ve looked like I was wearing the same outfit. I can’t do that, not in a week, let alone for two death-related events. People would know.” Stewy rambles on. 

You can’t help but laugh at his ramble, only he would be acutely aware of that and have considered this all in great detail. You laugh into his blazer and nod. He wears a large smile on his face as he notices that this seems to have cheered you up somewhat. There’s still tears but that’s to be expected, he’s just glad that there’s somehow some smiles and laughs in there as well. 

You press yourself into him tightly, inhaling his comforting scent and presence. “Don’t let me go. Not out there, in here. Ever, please.” 

“I’d never dream of it, baby..” Stewy says softly as he presses a kiss into your head and then you both leave the car holding hands.

#stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini x you #stewy hosseini imagine #stewy hosseini x reader #stewy hosseini x f reader #stewy hosseini x roy!reader #stewy hosseini fic #stewy hosseini fanfic #stewy hosseini fluff #succession #hbo succession #succession s4 #succession hbo #succession roy reader #succession fic #kendall roy #roman roy #connor roy #shiv roy #siobhan roy #arian moayed #arian moayed fanfiction #arian moayed characters #successionfanfiction #succession fandom #fanfic #teamstewy

[starlightshadowsworld]

Bsd but Atsushi is a lot more aware, a lot more wary. And all the Agency want is to give him a home.

"Welcome to the Armed Detective Agency."

Atsushi shakes his head "No thanks." He's tired, too tired to deal with this right now. "I'm afraid I don't follow" says Fukuzawa, frowning and he wasn't the only one.

Dazai looks confused and Kunikida concerned.

"Listen, you guys seem nice and I'll pay you back for the meal" at that Atsushi briefly looks at Kunikida before looking back at Fukuzawa.

"But you don't want me." He says it so definitely, like no one could ever argue otherwise. "And why, would we not? You passed our exam" Says Fukuzawa and Atsushi shakes his head again.

He's slouching and keeping his head low, all in an effort to make himself smaller.

"You want the tiger, and no offence but that's stupid." Says Atsushi bluntly.

"The tiger is not your friend, not your ally. It's a wild and uncontrolled beast. You seem like a kind man who's surrounded himself by good people. You don't want this, it'll only spell despair got you all."

Fukuzawa is suprised to hear such, hatred in Atsushi's voice. Dazai knew Atsushi had a poor self image, but even this level of vitriol takes him by suprise.

As does the empty look in his eyes. When he'd met Atsushi he saw a bright light, one that's nowhere to be found.

"My ability can help others to keep control over theirs, and you've already seen Dazai's at work. Your ability will not cause us or yourself harm." Atsushi seems confused at that last part, and that breaks Fukuzawa's heart.

Why does a child look so confused at the idea of his own wellbeing being taken into account?

"I left one cage and I won't let you put me in another.." Says Atsushi, a growl in his voice. But it only betrays his fear. "The tiger doesn't like to be contained, and neither do I."

Atsushi shakes his head "and I didn't even know this was for an entrance exam." Dazai doesn't really want to pull the other card, it is underhanded but Atsushi needs to understand he's in danger.

"Atsushi, a bounty has been put on your head. The Port Mafia and other criminal organisations will be after you. The Agency can keep you safe from harm."

To Dazai's suprise Atsushi just shrugs. "And? What you think this is news to me? The Headmaster would tell me everytime I messed up he'd sell me to the highest bidder."

At that the entire Agency goes still with rage.

"I appreciate your help, but I'm good. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go before it gets dark." Says Atsushi, turning to leave.

"Atsushi, you said earlier we want the tiger. But what if we want you. You did pass after all, you seem like you'd be good here." Says Dazai.

Once again, Atsushi suprises him by laughing. It's harsh, cold and almost sarcastic. "We're serious" Says Fukuzawa, coming to back Dazai up. Atsushi looks at them for one of the few times during this meeting.

His eyes may be empty and cold, but they only show just how in pain he is.

"Don't lie to me. You want the tiger, it's the whole reason you guys were looking for me." Says Atsushi and Dazai nods "that's true, but circumstances change."

His voice becomes softer, gentle like he's talking to a scared animal, a scared child. "Is it so werid that we might actually like you and want you around?"

"No one wants me" Says Atsushi, his words hollow and borderline emotionless. "Not my parents not the Orphanage and definitely not you." He looks out the window, like he's reminiscing.

"I bring nothing but misfortune onto others. It's who I am, everyone wants the tiger but not me. Fyodor wants the tiger, the Guild or rather Fitzgerald wants the tiger, Shibusawa wanted the tiger. Everyone wants the tiger."

Atsushi looks Dazai dead in the eye.

"So do you. I can see it in your eyes. Don't lie to me, you all might be too nice to say it. But no ones ever wanted me, and that won't start now." And as those as his parting words, Atsushi leaves.

Fukuzawa raises a hand "let him go" he says. "But President, we can't let him just..." Says Kunikida and Fukuzawa nods. "I know, but all we'll now is scare him off. He has no reason to trust us, that is something we'll have to earn."

He's right but if still hurts to watch Atsushi run off.

Dazai can't help but be reminded of another thinks of another kid, now years older. One with dark red hair and piercing blue eyes full of distrust and anger.

Everyone wanted him for one thing too, a gift he couldn't quite control.

Dazai wants Atsushi to join, of course he does. Does he have a plan to put together a new Soukoko, of course he does

But does Dazai also see a hurt, terrified kid and want to help him? Yes. A kid who believes he's better off dead but wants nothing more than to live.

The President was right, they needed to gain Atsushi's trust. To show him that he was cared for, not simply for the beast underneath his skin.

Dazai knew he'd already gotten attached, so had Kunikida and everyone else who'd met the kid.

Maybe they all saw themselves in this lost boy.

And hopefully they could bring him back home.

#long post #atsushi nakajima #bsd atsushi #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #fukuzawa yukichi #bsd fukuzawa #bsd kunikida #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd chuuya #The Wary Weretiger

[calisources]

HBO'S HOUSE OF THE DRAGON.   sentence   starters   taken   from   the   hbo's   adaptation   of   fire and blood  from   george   r.r.   martin.   change   titles,   names   and   pronouns   as   you   see   fit.

The gods have yet to make a man who lacks the patience for absolute power.

You cannot live your life in fear, or you will forsake the best parts of it. 

Many that are tested only wish to have been spared it.

Meat without wine is also a sin. 

Do not allow your temper to guide your judgement. 

Reluctance to murder is not a weakness.

Dreams didn’t make us kings. Dragons did.

We have always been meant to burn together.

The gods give just as the gods take away.

The road ahead is uncertain, but the end is clear.

I’m Queen Rhaenyra now. And you all are traitors to the realm.

The gods have yet to make a man who lacks the patience for absolute power.

You cannot live your life in fear, or you will forsake the best parts of it. 

Many that are tested only wish to have been spared it.

Meat without wine is also a sin. 

Do not allow your temper to guide your judgement. 

Reluctance to murder is not a weakness.

Dreams didn’t make us kings. Dragons did.

We have always been meant to burn together.

The gods give just as the gods take away.

The road ahead is uncertain, but the end is clear.

I’m Queen Rhaenyra now. And you all are traitors to the realm.

What is this brief, mortal life, if not the pursuit of legacy?

The Iron Throne looms larger than me, larger than anyone in my family.

Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are.

A marriage is a duty, yes. But that doesn’t stop us from doing what we want. From f***ing who we want.

When I’m Queen, I will create a new order.

I will speak of my brother as I wish. You will not.

Everyone says Targaryens are closer to gods than to men, but they say that because of our dragons. Without them, we’re just like everyone else.

You desire not to be free, but to make a window in the wall of your prison. Have you never imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?

When dragons flew to war… everything burned. I do not wish to rule over a kingdom of ash and bone.

Tongues will not change the succession. Let them wag.

There are times when I would rather face the Black Dread himself than mine own daughter.

Take care not to startle Syrax, my lords. She’s rather protective of me.

If the King isn’t feared, he is powerless. If you are to be a strong queen, you must cultivate love and respect, yes, but your subjects must fear you.

History does not remember blood. It remembers names.

Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again.

When one is never invited to speak, one learns instead to observe.

I would rather feed my sons to the dragons than have them carry shields and cups for your drunken, usurper c**t of a king.

I’m next in line to the throne. Should they come looking for me, I intend to be found.

No king has ever lived that hasn’t had to forfeit the lives of a few to protect the many.

No matter how fat the leech grows, it always wants for another meal.

We have royal wombs, you and I. The childbed is our battlefield. We must learn to face it with a stiff lip.

We play an ugly game. And now, for the first time, I see that you have the determination to win it.

Who gives a f*** what some lord thinks? You are the dragon. Your word is truth and law.

You are the King, and so, your first duty is to the realm. Mother would’ve understood this. Just as I do.

You sit upon the highest seat in the realm, Your Grace. Proud men don’t like having to look up.

By naming me heir, you divided the realm.

I thought I wanted it. But the burden is a heavy one. It’s too heavy. If you wish me to bear it, then defend me.

A loyal Hand must tell his king a discomforting truth from time to time, Your Grace. If he doesn’t, he’s failed as a servant.

A seat at the King’s table does not make you his equal.

Fire is such strange power. Everything that House Targaryen possesses is owed to it. Yet it has cost us both what we loved.

How sweetly the fox speaks when it’s been cornered by the hounds.

The blood of the dragon runs thick.

The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided.

The idea that we control the dragons is an illusion. They’re a power man should never have trifled with. One that brought Valyria its doom.

The truth does not matter. Only perception.

We are the blood of Old Valyria. We don’t belong here.

Valyria is gone. We don’t belong anywhere.

We are the realm’s second sons, Daemon. Our worth is not given. It must be made.

We do not rule but we may guide the men that do.

We don’t choose our destiny. It chooses us.

A dragon’s saddle is one thing, but the Iron Throne is the most dangerous seat in the realm.

Born wearing a crown? Gods spare me, birth is unpleasant enough as it is.

Daemon only ever does what is best for Daemon.

Perhaps the Velaryons knew the truth of it. The sea is the better ally.

For men marriage might be a political arrangement. For women it is like to be a death sentence.

Has anybody ever told you’re nearly as pretty as your brother?

I did not decide to name Rhaenyra my heir on a whim. All the lords of the kingdom would do well to remember that.

I imagine even dragons get lonely.

A king or queen, strong enough to unite the realm against the cold and the dark.

If we are to serve the Seven Kingdoms, we must answer to their gods.

It’s no easy thing for a man to be a dragonslayer. But dragons can kill dragons. And have.

Many in my line have been dragon riders. Very few among us have been dreamers. What is the power of a dragon, next to the power of prophecy?

My mother was made to produce heirs until it killed her. I won’t subject myself to the same fate.

My oath reaches beyond our personal ambitions.

Swear anew your oath to Rhaenyra as your queen, to Prince Jacaerys as the heir to the Iron Throne. Or, if you support the usurper, speak it now, and you will have a clean and honorable death.

But if you choose treachery, if you swear fealty now only to later turn your cloaks, know that you will die… screaming.

#rp meme #sentences memes #meme call #roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. ) #rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #roleplay meme #got meme #game of thrones memes

[catlordewrites]

Galatea - Chapter One

Masterlist - Ao3

Summary: A cheap Arrakeen prostitute, chained to the city brothel by an unfair contract and desperate for freedom, is offered the chance of a lifetime.

A/N: Basically unedited. Not my best work. Tryna get out of a writing slump so you get what you get

Chapter Warnings: smut, a smidge of knife play, prostitution, mentions of rape, depression, anxiety

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ ONLY

This part, Galatea was all too familiar with.

The groundcar waiting for her outside the brothel was nondescript. Grey metal and dark windows. The man that opened the door for her wore a black work uniform stripped of insignia. She knew the type. Spine rimrod straight. Eyes front. Trying just a little too hard not to seem like he was ogling the beautiful woman scantily dressed in fine silk.

Galatea shot him a wink. He blushed.

From there, though, things got a bit more complicated.

She slid gracefully onto the fine leather seats, trying not to think about how desperately she wanted tonight to succeed.

Chances of everything happening the way they needed to were exceedingly slim. She knew better than to get her hopes up. She wasn’t a dreamer, but she had been, once. Despite all she’d been through, it was a habit that just wouldn’t die.

Arrakeen was a city of many pains. And many pleasures. The House of Priapos was the largest purveyor of both. Women—and men—for all social classes. The brothel itself took up a city block, with the Trulls crammed into tiny stalls at the bottom, separated from the street by only threadbare curtains; while the wealthy enjoyed High Courtesans tucked away in luxurious penthouses that made up the highest floors.

Galatea operated somewhere in the middle.

Trapped by an unfair contract that she had signed years ago when she had been young and desperate, she could be dressed up as a courtesan, or down as a street whore, and had no room to argue either way.

Tonight, though, was unprecedented.

Galatea was to entertain the Duke of Caladan and Arrakis.

Although her hourly rate was much higher than the average Arrakeen man could afford, compared to the usual girls enjoyed by Imperium Nobility, she was trashy, at best.

It was a fluke, really.

Zoie, a High Courtesan who happened to be Galatea’s close friend, had recently taken the Atreides Warmaster as a client. He had been pleased with her, and after a few sessions, mentioned that the Duke was in need of a new lover, and asked if she had any recommendations.

Zoie owed Galatea quite a lot, and a recommendation whispered in the right ear went a long way.

The Arrakeen Palace was massive. For all the years she’d lived in Arrakis, it had been a looming mountain above the city, little more than an extension of the Shield Wall’s craggy peaks.

Galatea had certainly never been inside, but she knew a few women that had. She shifted nervously in her seat as the groundcar passed though the first security checkpoint at the outer gate, wondering at how they’d never thought to mention that the outer walls were at least fifteen feet thick. Or that armed guards bristled at every corner.

The groundcar skirted the main entrance and rolled to a stop at a smaller door just off of the courtyard, where a female guard waited. After scanning her for concealed weapons, the guard led the way inside.

She was guided on a long, winding route. Down cavernous corridors and up quite a few stairs. They encountered no one. It was planned, certainly. They were hardly going to advertise when a whore was being brought in for the Duke to fuck.

The guard’s footsteps echoed smartly through the silence, while Galatea’s delicate sandals whispered in afterthought. For a few long moments, Galatea could almost believe that they were the only souls in the entire palace. The utilitarian minimalism of the place did nothing to lessen the effect—the sandstone walls were smooth and bare. Like some suspiciously clean tomb lost deep in the desert.

The illusion was shattered when they rounded a final corner and were faced by two more guards. After being checked for weapons a second time. Her escort led her past them and down a hall that looked a bit more lived in. Still spotless, but a few paintings adorned the walls and a long crimson rug ran the length of the floor.

The guard stopped at a fairly nondescript door and turned to face her.

“The groundcar will be waiting for you at dawn,” she explained, her voice as clipped and measured as her gait. “You will be escorted out of the building. Do not wander. If you need to leave early, tell the guards. They will call for the groundcar. Do you understand?”

Galatea saw it now—the disgust hidden behind the guard’s professional mask. It wasn’t the sort of thing that she usually let faze her. People were disgusted by whores until they wanted to use one. But she was already feeling a bit out of her depth, and the blatant distaste turned the whispers in the back of Galatea’s mind into wailing sirens.

There’s a reason they use highborn ladies for this, she thought bitterly as the guard left her alone in the hall. Cheap is cheap and trash is trash.

But then the logic of Zoie—who was decidedly not cheap—rose out of the mix, accompanied by the trademark shrug of her lovely shoulders.

Who the fuck cares? A cock is a cock. Milk him and move on.

Galatea couldn’t argue with that. She lifted her hand and knocked.

The answering voice was low and soft. “Come in.”

The door opened smoothly on well oiled hinges, and Galatea was treated to the view of the room beyond.

The Duke’s suite was large and spacious, framed on one side by shelves laden with books and strange trinkets from his homeworld, and by the thin slip of a very wide but short window that was a standard Arrakis style on the other. The bed was tucked away at the far side of the room—large and neatly made underneath a beautiful bronze mural of a curling sandworm. A few steps from the bed was a doorway—presumably a bathroom—and a short distance from that, the closet. The room also sported a small breakfast table, a chaise lounge with matching chairs, and a writing desk.

The Duke himself sat at the desk, hunched over a stack of papers with a pen in hand. Galatea’s breath hitched in her throat—half from admiration, half from nerves.

Duke Leto Atreides was an extremely handsome man. Olive skin turned golden by the Arrakis sun and heightened under the warm glow of the glowglobes. He had a sharp, angular face softened by curly black hair and a beard to match, both shot through with elegant streaks of silver. Thick, heavy eyebrows sat above the eyes of a poet, pulling his expression into one of constant brooding.

There was no point in trying to pretend that she didn’t find him attractive. Doing nothing to hide the way her eyes flitted appreciatively around his body, Galatea dipped into a polite curtsy and flashed him her most winning smile.

“My Lord.”

He gave her the barest glance, then went back to writing.

“I’ll be with you in a minute. Make yourself comfortable.”

The disinterest gave her pause.

Galatea was not the first woman that had been hired for this job. Although the Courtesans that had come before her had been sworn into silence, Zoie was persistent. Through her usual persuasion tactics and ability to root out gossip from the most stubborn sources, the beautiful Courtesan was able to garner that, out of six High Courtesans, the Duke had sent them all away.

And if they hadn’t been able to please the Duke, what hope did Galatea have?

Well, he hasn’t dismissed me yet.

She turned to one of the bookshelves. Galatea ran her fingers down a few of the leather bound spines and read the titles. Paper books were incredibly rare on Arrakis. There were no trees; wood and paper had to be imported. She had a digital tablet, though. Reading was one of the few hobbies she could afford. There wasn’t much else to do to fill the time between clients, anyhow.

The Duke heaved a sigh. Out of the corner of her eye, Galatea watched him set aside his papers and stare off into space. He drummed his fingers on the desk. Lost in thought.

The decision was made. He stood. Strode purposefully around the desk.

“Alright. Come here.”

The command in his tone made Galatea shiver with anticipation. As much as she hated the brothel, the contract, the lack of choice, her masters—this part, especially when she liked the look of the client, could be a lot of fun.

She met him in the middle. The Duke’s arms wrapped around her, dragged her body against his, left no room for argument. Then his mouth was on hers. Hard. Demanding. Tongues and teeth. No preamble. Absolutely filthy.

Fuck, he was a good kisser. Of course he was. A man as beautiful as he was didn’t skate through life without getting a lot of practice.

Galatea’s knees went weak, and she grabbed onto his shoulders to keep upright. The Duke didn’t seem to notice, and instead used her loss of balance to steer her towards the chaise lounge.

Once he had her underneath him, he wasted no time in pulling the straps of her dress down her shoulders, loosening the silk enough to free her breasts. Then that wonderful mouth was on her neck. She gasped as his beard scraped along her collarbone. Eager to match his intensity, Galatea slipped a hand between their bodies to rub his cock through his trousers. She could feel the outline of him through the thick fabric—still soft, but of pleasing size.

Galatea hummed appreciatively. The Duke paused, his breath ghosting past her ear. She threaded her free hand through his hair and pulled him back in for another kiss.

He reciprocated, but something had shifted.

The Duke tolerated a few more moments of her touch, then he heaved a sigh and pulled away. Galatea was left draped on the lounge, tits out and baffled as he returned to his desk.

“Thank you for coming here tonight,” he said, settling back down in his chair and shuffling papers as he returned to his work. “You may go.”

Shocked, Galatea sat up and fixed her clothes. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Cheap whore or not, she knew she was attractive. It was usually the lead up when a client lost interest—when the knowledge of her unfashionable price and breeding was at the forefront. But once a man got his hands on her, he always followed through.

“My Lord… forgive me, but … have I done something wrong?”

He didn’t look at her. “No. You will be paid in full.”

Galatea could have cried. It wasn’t about the money. She saw so little of the money she made for the brothel that it didn’t have much meaning for her anymore, beyond the fact that she was cheap—which her handlers reminded her of at every opportunity. But the Duke was in need of a lover. Leto the Just, they called him. A good and fair man, one that had the authority and money to pay off her contract with the brothel and set her free, if he liked her enough. If he liked her more than enough, he might even bring her into his House. He could make her a concubine. And finally, after so many years, she could have the quiet, stable life that she’d always wanted.

No more beatings. No more scrounging. No more pleasuring the questionable men that the courtesans above her didn’t want. No more falling asleep to moans and screams. No more knowing that there were women several floors below her getting raped and being able to do nothing about it.

She could be free.

It was a pipe dream. She knew that. But having the hope crushed before it could even fully take root was devastating.

From the despair came indignation, and from that came anger. Anger always made her reckless.

She returned to the bookshelf. Figuring that the Duke wouldn’t leave sensitive information just out on a shelf, Galatea decided it was safe to help herself to one that sounded interesting.

This was an opportunity. Good things never happened to Galatea. She had hours left until the brothel expected her back, so she might as well make the most of the Duke’s luxuries.

And if he really wanted her to leave, he could make her.

Galatea settled down on the chaise lounge with her book and began to read.

It was the Duke’s turn to be shocked. He stared at her, heavy eyebrows low with a frown. “What are you doing?”

Galatea shrugged. “You’ve paid for my time already. How we spend it is entirely up to you. And if what you want is something pretty to brighten the room while you work, then that’s fine by me.”

The Duke blinked at that for a few moments. Utterly perplexed. Galatea wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

“… As you please.”

They stayed like that for a while. The silence was soothing, full of nothing more than the occasional shuffle of papers and soft breaths. The world within the Arrakeen Palace was so far from the one she knew in the city—too far above for the bustle and chatter of people, groundcars, and animals to reach. Isolated. Alone in a bubble. Close enough to see the lights but too far away to touch.

Galatea wondered if the Duke was lonely.

She wasn’t really sure of the details. Zoie tended to not make a ton of sense when she was excited. Galatea mulled over what had gathered from the younger woman’s babbling.

The Duke’s concubine—his partner of fifteen years and the mother of his only son—had left him. She, along with their son, had gone into the desert to join the Fremen. The rest was speculation, but there seemed to be a consensus that the son, at least, had gone with the Duke’s blessing. The Fremen had been the reason that House Atreides managed to survive those harrowing first few months of their hold on Arrakis.

Galatea shivered at the memory. She remembered the night well. The sounds of roaring engines and lasguns had made the city tremble. Fire had lit the sky as ships rained down over the Shield Wall. The attack had been massive. The kind that no one was meant to survive.

But the Fremen had come out of the desert—Galatea wouldn’t pretend to understand why—and when dawn came, House Atreides still stood.

Loaning his heir out to learn the ways of the Fremen seemed a small price to pay for an alliance.

But it didn’t explain why Lady Jessica had gone as well.

Eventually, Galatea felt the Duke’s eyes on her again. She thought that he was searching for something to say, so she read aloud:

“Discovery is dangerous…but so is life. A man unwilling to take risks is doomed never to learn, never to grow, never to live.”

The Duke nodded. “That’s Pardot Kynes, the former planetologist. Dr. Liet Kynes gifted me a copy of some of her father’s writings.”

“I’ve heard of him, I think. He was supposed to be a very brilliant man.”

“It seems that way, yes.” The Duke leaned back in his chair, a bitter smile twisting at his lips. “Though sometimes I wonder if his experience was incomplete.”

“How do you mean, my Lord?”

“Perhaps one type of danger helps a man to grow. The experience makes him more of a leader. While others do the opposite. Less of a leader… less of a man.”

She tilted her head. Considered him. The faraway look. The grim smile. Tension pulled at his shoulders and exhaustion at his spine. The way he’d clutched at her reminded her of a man taking medicine—the action of doing something despite not really wanting to because it would make him feel better.

Less of a leader… less of a man.

Ah.

That was something she could work with.

The realization gave her direction, and direction gave her confidence. Galatea stood and crossed over to the desk. The Duke tilted his chin to look up at her, holding her gaze as her knees brushed his when she hopped up to sit on the desk.

Galatea cocked her head to the side as she considered him. She’d had this conversation before. Great care was needed. Proud men had the tendency to lash out, and the Duke of Caladan and Arrakis was certainly a proud man.

But at the same time, this was a man that had committed to one woman for over fifteen years. That, especially among Landsraad nobility, was extremely rare. He hadn’t been able to marry his concubine, but had also refused to marry anyone else. Unheard of.

What sort of a man was Leto Atreides?

Galatea was good at reading people. Getting a snap impression of someone, and then being able to act on it, was one of the most important skills a whore could have. Besides sucking cocks, of course, but that was a given.

Fifteen years. A son. Now he was alone. Responsible for far too many things, all of which seemed to be within a hair's breadth of falling apart. Under a great deal of stress.

This was the sort of man that wanted someone else to take control. Be taken care of. Just for a while. Being bossed around for a bit would definitely do him good.

“Leto,” Galatea began, making careful use of his first name, “when’s the last time you slept?”

Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. Leto huffed a laugh. “My duties don’t exactly lend to a regular sleep schedule.”

“So in other words, you’ve been living on anti-fatigue pills?”

He shrugged.

“Leto.” He hadn’t corrected her for using his name, and she took it as a signal that she was allowed to keep doing so. She rolled her eyes and gave a disappointed shake of her head.

The Duke watched her, somehow much more interested than he had been when he’d had his mouth on her tits. She couldn’t be offended, though. The intensity of his undivided attention was far too distracting.

Galatea slipped off her sandals and rested her bare feet on his thighs. Rested her elbows on her knees and her hand on one hand. The action forced him to lean back in his seat, his legs nudged apart by the weight of her.

Leto arched an eyebrow. The look on his face was one Galatea had seen many times—the one that said, I’m in complete control of this situation, and I’m letting you do this because I think it’s amusing.

Galatea tipped her head to indicate his crotch. “And you don’t suspect a connection between the two?”

To his credit, he handled the entirely unsubtle reference to his manhood with more dignity than most refined men Galatea knew. A slight widening of the eyes. The subtle reddening of the ears.

She suppressed a smile.

“I… uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was assured that anti-fatigue pills have no…er… side effects…”

“Oh, Leto honey.” Galatea pressed her hand to his cheek. “Beautiful boy. I’m a whore. You can speak plainly about your cock with me. God knows I handle enough of them.”

Turns out, the direct approach yielded delightful results. Leto sputtered and tried to cover it with a cough. He didn’t really want to look her in the eye, so he lowered his gaze. After a moment, it occurred to him that he was looking at her breasts. His eyes shot back up to her face, then drifted off to the side. His blush deepened, creeping down his neck.

Fuck, he was pretty.

“I…uh… wouldn’t want to burden you.” He gave a nervous chuckle. “That’s not exactly something you talk about with a potential lover.”

“On the contrary, who better to ask? These things happen—it’s normal—and most everyone tries to solve it the same way you did.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” He still wouldn’t look her in the eye, but the blush was fading. Galatea vowed to bring it back as soon as possible. “So it’s the pills?”

“Not exactly, but they certainly don’t help. How much sleep have you gotten in, say…the last two weeks?”

“I don’t know. Twelve? Maybe less.”

Galatea felt a wave of pity. No wonder the poor thing was having problems.

“Consider the mind and the body.” She held out both hands symbolically. “They work together, but they’re separate entities. The mind tells the body what to do, and the body does it. The heart needs to beat. Walk from your desk to the bookshelf. Move your hands to write a letter. But the body has opinions too. It tells the mind what it needs. I’m hungry. This hurts. I’m tired. I need to rest.”

She looked at him pointedly.

“I’m with you so far.”

“Good. So your body is telling the mind that it’s tired. You start yawning. Your brain gets fuzzy. You can’t keep your eyes open. But you’re a busy man. You have Duke things to do. So you take one of those helpful little pills, and you can keep going. But the pill isn’t making your body less tired, it’s just shutting up all the usual ways it lets you know that it needs a break. And that’s fine… for a while. But the longer you go without doing the things your body needs, the more desperate it gets. You aren’t listening to the usual signals, so it starts finding other ways to get your attention.”

Galatea gestured to his crotch again. “This is a very common one for men. Auditory hallucinations usually come next.”

Leto let out a breath. He wasn’t as shy now, which was a shame, but Galatea appreciated the glint of relief in his eyes. A small smile quirked at his lips.

“So what would you recommend, nurse?”

“It’s doctor, actually. Dr Whore. And for the long term, I prescribe sleep. No anti-fatigue pills for at least two weeks, unless absolutely necessary.”

He huffed, but was actually smiling now. “That’s a big ask, you know.”

“Make that three weeks, then. Also,” she took his chin between her index finger and thumb, “stop worrying about it. Your cock is fine. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. These things happen a lot more often than you think. And worrying makes it worse.”

“Alright, I get it.” He turned his face into her hand. His lips brushed her thumb. “And what about the short term, Dr Whore?”

“A massage, definitely,” was her immediate response. “While you were having a grope earlier, I felt your back. It’s all tied up in knots. A massage, and then a good night's sleep.” She paused, picked at a lock of his curly hair. It was still a little mussed from when she’d run her fingers through it, and now it was obvious how oily it was. “Scratch that. A bath. A nice warm bath. Massage. Then sleep. Lucky you, I’m good at all of those things. Bathroom’s through there, yeah?”

“A bath? On Arrakis? Isn’t that wasteful?” Leto protested as she slid off the desk and made her way towards the bathroom without waiting for an answer.

The bathroom, as the rest of Leto’s residence, was both spartan and beautiful. Decent sized, with a large tub taking up the center, a separate shower, toilet, and sink with a vanity all rounding the walls with accompanying shelves.

“How can it be wasteful?” Galatea countered, turning on the water. “You have a water reclamation system, right?”

Leto trailed into the room after her, looking a little lost. “Of course.”

“And filters in the cooling systems to collect the steam in the air?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But nothing. You’re the Duke. You deserve a nice bath from time to time. Call it a prerogative.” Satisfied with the water temperature, she straightened up and faced him, hands on her hips. “Now strip. I’m going to see if you have anything here we can actually use.”

With that, she started rummaging through his cabinets. Leto was a practical man, not prone to collecting frivolous things. But at his station, being well groomed was a necessity. Shampoo. Conditioner. Soap. Body wash. Beard oil. Lotion. All decent smelling. But next time… if there was a next time… she would bring some nicer things for him to use.

Galatea gathered up her finds and turned to see that Leto had done as she asked. He leaned over the edge of the tub, deliciously bare as he swished his hand through the water, brow furrowed in thought.

Heat pooled in her stomach. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for her to find clients attractive. But fuck, this just wasn’t fair.

Smooth golden skin stretched over an athletic build. Leto was sculpted as a statue—a beautiful amalgamation of well-toned muscles and soft flesh. A handful of scars smattered his upper body, and Galatea longed to trace them. Those, and the lovely curve of his arse.

Leto glanced up and saw her looking. His pensive expression turned smug.

Galatea laughed quietly and gave his face a light shove, telling him to hurry up and get in the bath. Leto did as he was told, a sigh of relief escaping him as he sank into the water.

“A Duke’s prerogative, you said?”

Galatea set down her things and stripped to the waist. “Prerogative. Absolutely.” She turned off the water and settled on her knees behind his head. “You work too hard. You deserve some things that make you feel good.”

Leto didn’t respond, just hummed absently as she added soap to the water and wet a fluffy washcloth. With it, she began to clean his chest and neck. His skin was hot under her hand, and she thought about what it would feel like to explore the same area with her mouth.

He sighed blissfully at her touch. Galatea imagined that it wouldn’t take much to make him moan.

Perhaps it was these thoughts that set the stage for her next one, or maybe she was riding the high of having made it farther than the other women that the brothel had sent before her. Either way, when she spotted the knife laying carelessly among Leto’s discarded clothing, Galatea got a very, very bad idea.

And GOD, it was such a bad idea. The kind where she wasn’t sure if it was so bad that it was good, or so good it was bad. The kind that, if it didn’t work, could absolutely get her killed. Hell, it might get her killed even if it did work. Fuck. No. It wasn’t worth the risk.

But as she continued to wash the Duke, her hands slowly dipping lower and lower down his abdomen, the idea niggled in the back of her mind.

Galatea knew that she had already set herself apart from the other whores the Duke had hired. No one else had made it past his dismissal. She should be satisfied with that. She should be thrilled by that.

But what about when the Duke’s problem passed? He wouldn’t need Galatea’s brusque attitude and world wisdom anymore. There were far more beautiful women for him to choose from that would be able to more than keep him satisfied.

The terrible idea took root.

Risk had gotten her this far. It seemed only fitting to let it take her all the way.

“Wet your hair for me, beautiful boy,” Galatea murmured in his ear.

Leto hummed acknowledgement and, while his head slipped down beneath the water, Galatea picked up the knife and tucked it safely in the waistband of her skirt.

Outwardly, Galatea calmly squirted shampoo into her hands. Inwardly, her heart hammered so wildly that she thought it might be trying to escape the rest of her body before it was too late.

Her fingers threaded through Leto’s hair. She worked the shampoo into a fine froth and used her nails to trace circles into his scalp. A head massage was one of the things that almost every man adored but never knew to ask for. She took her time with it. Although she was getting impatient, there was no need to rush.

Leto went boneless. His head lolled obediently with her touch. When she tilted his head back against her bare chest, he went willingly. One of her hands ghosted up his throat and scratched along his jaw, adding a little shampoo to his beard.

Galatea took her time rinsing him, too. She had him lean forward while she poured water from a pitcher over his head, careful not to get any into his eyes.

“Conditioner now,” Galatea told him. “Same idea.”

Leto leaned back against her and closed his eyes, so trusting and content.

Galatea reached down and, instead of the conditioner, picked up the knife. Before she could see reason and talk herself out of it, she had it against Leto’s throat.

The Duke inhaled sharply. His eyes snapped open, wide with shock. All of the relaxation she’d coaxed into him dissipated.

“What is this?” He demanded, his voice tight with anger. She thought of him as a coiled spring, ready to launch into motion. Ready to fight. But Galatea was in control. He was at her mercy. So he stayed perfectly still. Waiting for her to make a move.

Somehow, Galatea was able to hide how affected she was—practically trembling with arousal, fear, and adrenaline. Her free hand drifted down his body and wrapped around his pretty cock.

Leto gasped. This time, his body responded to her beautifully.

“Your body is trying to tell you something, Leto,” she whispered against his ear. “What’s it saying?”

She pumped him slowly. A low groan rumbled in his chest. His head pressed back against her sternum as he started to pant.

Galatea watched his face carefully. Checking for any sign of genuine distress. He was smart. By now, he understood what she was doing. The alarm was gone, but he remained guarded. His lovely poet eyes flickered from her face to where her hand worked between his legs.

He had to know by now that he wasn’t in any danger. What kind of assassin jerked off her victim first?

Leto shuddered against her as she increased her pace. With the blade still pressed tightly against his throat, he fought to keep still. The wariness gave way to pleasure. His eyes fluttered closed, and the quiet of the bathroom was filled with his quiet moans.

Desperate to hold something, but knowing better than to grab at her arms—as both hands were very busy—Leto clutched the edges of the tub so hard that his fingers turned white.

“My beautiful boy,” Galatea murmured, her lips touching his ear. “You needed this, didn’t you? You’re doing so well. Let go. I’ve got you.”

He didn’t last very long, but then, she hadn’t wanted him to. Leto’s body arched in the water. He gasped and cursed and shuddered. Galatea held him through it, whispering soft encouragement and praises until he slumped back against her, utterly spent.

Galatea lay the knife to the side, dizzy with relief and her own daring. She took Leto’s head in her hands, brushing his wet curls from his face and checking his neck.

To her horror, a single pearl of blood welled from a small cut across his throat. It was hardly more than a shaving cut, but it filled her with terror.

She had held a Duke at knifepoint. She’d made him bleed.

Galatea pressed her thumb against it, willing it to disappear. Leto winced slightly and opened one eye.

“I didn’t actually mean to cut you,” Galatea said weakly. “I’m sorry.”

Leto closed his eyes again and nuzzled against her arm.

“S’fine,” he mumbled. Adrenaline had given his system the kickstart that it needed, but it was fading fast. “Worth it.”

Relieved, Galatea kissed the top of his head. Then she went to work finishing his bath—applying and rinsing conditioner, washing his face, applying beard oil. She did it fairly quickly, knowing that the endorphins, combined with his exhaustion, were calling him to sleep. Galatea was stronger than she looked, but she couldn’t carry him to bed. Leaving him to sleep in the tub wasn’t exactly an option either.

When she guided him up to his feet, he went willingly. Leto stood while she dried him with a towel, meek and obedient as a child. By the time she grabbed the lotion she’d found and steered him out of the bathroom, Galatea thought he seemed half asleep already.

She pulled back the sheets of his bed. “Lay down on your stomach, beautiful boy. There you go.”

Leto all but sagged into bed. He buried his face into his pillow with a relieved sigh. Galatea joined him, kneeling by his hips and lathering her hands with lotion.

Within minutes, he was asleep. Galatea spent a good hour working out the knots in his back. She kneaded and pressed the tension in his tired muscles until they were jelly. Then she did the same to his legs, his feet, his buttocks.

He looked so good like this. If Galatea knew how to paint, she would have gladly spent the rest of the night capturing this image. Truely, it belonged with the ancient Renaissance artworks she’d seen in her holobooks. Exposed, vulnerable, beautiful.

When she was done, Galatea pulled the blankets over him. There was some time left before dawn, but she didn’t dare sleep. Instead, she fetched another book from the shelf and settled down on top of the covers beside the sleeping Duke.

She wiled away the hours, soothed by Leto’s soft snores and the silence of the Palace. She could get used to this. She begged every god in existence to let her get used to this.

Dawn came too soon. Galatea returned her books to their respective spots on the shelves. She had a few of the brothel’s business cards in her small clutch, one of which she retrieved along with her lipstick.

Galatea applied a fresh coat to her lips, then pressed them to the card. The shape of her kiss transferred perfectly just below the House of Priapos inscription. Below that, Galatea wrote her name in an elegant, looping hand.

She left the card on his desk and left, hoping that she would be seeing this place again very soon.

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