#then some other minor nuisances | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

softlyspector · 6 months

Text

Grays

Summary: Joel likes to be read to and held and have his hair stroked. He would never dare admit it, though. Based on this lovely ask.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Word count: ~4k

Warnings: Joel being insecure about his looks, age, gray hair (idiot 🙄 affectionate), Joel being a nuisance by sweating and chopping wood, Joel's bad attitude, reader is implied to be from the south/Appalachia (and has an accent), food as a love language, food mentions and eating, minor internal angst, Joel character study?because I'm insane, very domestic, fall vibes

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you like this and thank you to the anon who sent that ask. I wrote this in just a few hours because you inspired me so and a price can't be put on that. Thank you all for always being so lovely and letting me write whatever comes to mind/inspires at the time💕

“Are you almost done with that?”

The ax arcs through the air again, splits solidly through the log and then thumps down onto the stump beneath. Two halves of split wood go flying in opposite directions, and you set about gathering them up for Joel, who pauses, one hand on his hip as breathes heavily through his nose.

There’s a tendril of sweat snaking down his temple; the ax hangs loosely from one hand like it weighs nothing.

“What?” He snaps.

You smile and repress the urge to laugh, turning your back so he doesn’t see. “I said, are you almost done?”

He makes a disbelieving noise, an indignant half-squak. “This has gotta be done before winter sets in, in case it slipped your mind.”

“I didn’t say it doesn’t,” you agree, rounding the stump to prop up one of the halves back onto the ax scarred stump. “It’s just that you’ve been at it for a good long while. Ain’t you tired?”

You step back and Joel straightens his shoulders, fingers tightening around the handle of the ax again. He lifts and swings, muscle straining in his arms, shirt lifting just enough that you see a thin line of his skin. The log splits, and you step forward with the other piece, ignoring the flutter in your belly at the sight of him. “Would go faster with help,” he grouses pointedly.

“Mhm, or you could come get some dinner. It’s gettin’ dark.”

Grunt, lift, swing, slice.

No answer.

You roll your eyes and instead sweep the fallen pieces of scattered wood into your arms and start toward the growing pile of firewood along the back side of the house. You don’t get very far with your burden. “Hey,” he says, tugging you back by your shoulder. “Quit that. C’mere.” The firewood is out of your arms before you can protest.

He shoulders past you, heat radiating off him in dizzying waves. The autumn air is chilly and growing colder, the day dunked in a gray, dusky fading light. The sky is that late autumn purple it sometimes gets to be, rosy like blush and lavender, the fingers of the trees sharp and black against the horizon. “If you want help,” you comment, following closely behind him. “You do actually have to let me help.”

His shoulders pull taut, the wide cut of them straining at the red flannel he’s outfitted in. “Uh-huh.” He drops the wood on the top of the pile and turns back to you. His eyes flicker over you, chin tucking down, head tilting as he assesses you. “You eat?”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes at him.

Typical Joel.

“Might be what I’d come to fetch you for. Supper’s on.”

“That so?”

“Chicken and dumplings,” you say by way of explanation. “And gravy.”

“Sounds good.” He says it with a note of surprise in his voice. “Real good.”

“‘Cause it is. Come eat. The work will be here tomorrow. You’ll even have my help that time around. If ya happen to let me help that is.” You beckon him with a jerk of your chin toward the open back door.

He swipes the back of his hand over his forehead, then runs it down his face, palm cupping his chin. The thick tendons outlined in his throat tighten when he clenches his jaw and considers the mess of the backyard. Warm yellow light is starting to unspool across the lawn, over long dead grass and the whisper of browned leaves. “Ellie eat?”

“She’s with those friends of hers tonight. Suppose she’ll eat with them.”

He makes another vague noise in the back of his throat, still looking at the stack of logs he’d yet to split.

Joel does this sometimes. Works himself like a dog, gets grouchy and sharp, forgets to eat.

Sometimes it takes a firm hand and hard pressed coaxing to get him to give it up.

If you weren’t there, you wonder how long it’d last, that rise and fall of the ax, the strain of his body, already well past its limits.

He must be exhausted and hungry, not that he’d ever rightly admit to that.

That’s another thing you wonder after — did Joel even feel those things anymore?

Yes, you think. Since Jackson, yes. He just had a way of ignoring his own needs. He’d run on empty for days if he had to.

But he hesitates, makes a show of surveying the work he has left for him, the last dregs of the dying sun spilling weak across the yard. Or, maybe it's not a show. With Joel, things rarely are. He’s earnest, feet rooted firmly to the ground.

You watch him while he deliberates. One huge hand is still fisted around the handle of the ax, the bulk of his forearm straining, muscle and vein twisting prettily beneath flushed, damp skin. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, the top few buttons of his shirt left undone. His chest and neck are tinted the same color, dappled in the same sheen of sweat.

His hair is starting to go properly silver, a dark attractive gray that extends to his beard, the chest hair that just pokes out against the top of the flannel.

It’s unfortunate, really, how he seems to get more beautiful each year. Age shouldn’t look as good as it does on him.

When your eyes flicker back to his, he’s already watching you. An unreadable expression is tangled over his features, complicated and unknowable. Just as quick as it’s there, it’s gone, his expression cleared. You aren’t sure what he’s seen on your face that makes him fold inward, shut the door closed on you.

“All right,” he agrees, leaning the ax against the stack of wood, seeming reluctant about it.

Still, he follows you up the back porch stairs and through the door, wipes his shoes on the mat and then toes them off as you close the door to the encroaching night.

There’s something about socked feet, bare feet, that is painfully domestic, painfully homey and full of a feeling you don’t know how to articulate anymore. Something that reminds you so starkly of life before. You’d both gone months, once, without ever taking your shoes off, aside to tape them and switch socks, too afraid you might not have a moment to put them back on.

Joel glances at you as you shuffle past him, a hand placed gently between his shoulders for just a second, before you trek further into the house. “Smells good,” he compliments, following close on your heels. “I ain’t had chicken n’ dumplings in years.”

“That so?”

“Mm.” He moves toward the stove in what you’re sure will be an attempt to serve both of you.

“Nuh uh, sit,” you intercept him bodily and direct him into the chair at the breakfast table.

He huffs at you and sits, only mildly annoyed.

“Crabby,” you comment, spooning out a sizable portion. You always feel that he doesn’t eat enough, that he tries to leave too much behind for you and Ellie, especially after hard work. Joel still ate like he expected rations to run out. It’s unconscious, but it still worries you.

“I ain’t crabby,” he gripes.

You roll your eyes, sit the plate in front of him, and press the back of your hand to his cheek. The sweat is drying tacky on his skin, the strained rose color fading from his cheeks in the warmth of the house. He should have been wearing a jacket; his skin is a clammy kind of chilled, even sweaty and warm as he is. “You’ve actually never not been crabby, and it’s worse when you haven’t eaten,” you inform and hand him a fork with your other hand. “Ellie would agree with me.”

His hair curls at the base of his skull with the evaporating humidity of his skin. Like his socked feet, it feels painfully domestic to witness. Incredibly human, which Joel seemed more than, sometimes. “Guess she would,” he agrees. You lean your hip into his side and wait for him to take a bite, moving your hand away from his cheek to rest on his shoulder.

Joel might show his love through killing himself chopping wood for the winter, but this is the way you do it. He can’t cook, anyhow, and it makes you feel good to give him something good. It reminds you of better times.

When he swallows, eyes fluttering closed at the taste, you pat his shoulder and start to pull away to get your own plate.

“Hey,” he catches at your hand. His fingers tangle briefly with yours. His thumb sweeps over your skin, soft about it, though he doesn’t say anything else for a long moment. “It’s real good.”

“You’re welcome, Joel.” You lean in and press a kiss to his cheek.

When you’re both done eating, he does the dishes, builds a fire in the grate in the living room so the room is warm when you find your way there, book in hand with the intention to complete a nightly ritual that he’s never raised complaint at since it was quietly started.

You alternate between words and music, and last night Joel had played the guitar for you in the chilled air of the back porch, a blanket tucked around your legs.

Joel would never dare admit it, not in ten thousand years, not in the pits of hell with a knife at his throat, but he likes to be taken care of, too.

It’s just so often that he bristles at it, feels guilty and faulty over it.

After dinner, with a full belly, and a stiff drink in him, he’s better about it.

Better about letting you shove him down onto the couch to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging at those delightfully gray locks. It’s longer now, too, and you like that too. You hope he forgets about getting it cut.

It’s such a nice look on him. Handsome. You should probably tell him that, but the words never come out.

He lets you do as you like, easy about it, eyes closed, breathing even and slow as you settle beside him, pressed tight to his chest, ass hanging off the edge of the sofa. You mean to open the book lodged somewhere between your bodies, but you don’t. You just look at him, sleepy, between the fire and the heavy food.

Maybe he’d never admit it but this is one of the many little ways he can accept it. He lets you feed him food that reminds you of your childhood, lets you read to him on alternating evenings, lets you bring him in from the cold when it starts to get dark.

“Should I add chicken and dumplings into our rotation?” You wonder aloud, tracing the lines by his eyes carefully, the vein in his throat, the hollow at his clavicle, the slope of his broad shoulders.

He only grunts and doesn’t open his eyes. “It was good.” And that’s the closest you’ll get to an admission that he would like to have it again.

“Glad for it, Miller,” you say and tuck yourself under his chin. You hear the book fall to the floor and make no move to get it. “You need a shower,” you complain instead, nose pressed to his throat.

He does, but he doesn’t smell bad. He smells like himself, sweat and sawdust and cedar, the faintest whiskey. It’s a human scent, almost comforting. And Joel has, frankly, smelled much worse.

He just locks one thick arm around your waist, the wide flat of his palm against your spine. “In a minute.” But he’s breathing deeply already, halfway to a place you can’t reach. His arm tightens, his head tips down heavily against yours, solid and comforting, mostly asleep.

“In a minute,” you echo.

Joel wakes to a dark living room, a chill creeping in around the edges of the room. You’re still pressed tight against him, though he can’t see how with the way you’re practically halfway onto the floor. If he loosens his arm even a fraction, you’ll go tumbling down.

He considers doing it for just a second, suppressing a chuckle at the unimpressed reaction it would garner, the wet cat look of anger and indignation that would pull over your face.

Instead, he nudges you awake, rubbing your back until you start to stir. The bedroom would be warmer for you, now that the fire had burned down. He hates the thought of you cold, always has. “Let’s go to bed,” he says in your ear.

He doesn’t know exactly where you came from before. It doesn’t really matter anymore, doesn’t hold any weight or meaning, since most places are just empty graveyards that can’t really be returned to. But wherever you came from gave you a pretty little accent, a twang in your voice that’s different from his.

It’s something he loves about you, sounds like home.

“Joel,” you complain, brow scrunching. “You just go on and leave me be.” It’s almost funny, how much twangier it is when you’re close to sleep.

“Can’t do that, honey. C’mon now,” He pats your hip and keeps a steady pressure on your back until you grumble and start to sit up. “Go up to bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”

You’re rubbing your eyes, leaning back against his legs. “Why?”

“Fire,” he nods to the still glowing embers as he sits up. “Don’t want the house burnin’ down. Wanna make sure Ellie got home all right, too.”

“Okay.” He keeps a hand on your waist until you’ve got your tired feet under you, still mostly asleep, he thinks, as you balance with one warm hand on his bent knee until you stumble away towards the stairs.

He sighs and tends to the fireplace, then checks out the kitchen’s back window to see the glow of Ellie’s lights on, before following you up the stairs. He expects a dark bedroom but you’re propped up against the headboard with the bedside lamp on, changed into sleep clothes but definitely still awake. “It ain’t that late,” you say when he arches a brow at you and leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “And it’s my turn,” you hold up the battered copy of the book you’ve been slowly reading to him.

“It’s all right—”

“Uh-uh,” you interrupt. “Go shower. Then come here.”

He holds up his hands. “Yes ma’am.”

“Mhm,” you hum and flip idly through the book, no longer looking at him.

There’s a hope lodged in his heart that you’ll fall back asleep while you wait. It ain’t that he doesn’t want to hear you read. He’s invested in that story now, and he loves your voice even if he didn’t. The cadence and shape of the words, the rumble of your voice against his ear is a nice balm to drift off to.

What's more is that you deserve the sleep, that he shouldn’t have fallen asleep on you downstairs.

There’s a lot of things about you that scare him. How much he cares for you, for one. But the thing bothering him most now is the one that stares back at him when he looks in the mirror.

Jesus, it’s like everyday there’s more gray in his hair, his beard, even his chest hair is starting to go white and gray. It’s like everyday, he looks and gets a little bit older.

It’s goddamn embarrassing the way he worries about it, the way it bothers him. He doesn’t remember aging, isn’t really sure when it happened. Maybe he spent so many years avoiding the mirror he missed it.

And, well, it wasn’t important before. But now that he has time to think beyond the next day, the next meal, he thinks about it. About how fucking old he looks, especially next to you.

You aren’t younger than him, not but maybe a couple years, if you are at all—another thing that doesn't matter anymore, birthdays and age and counting the years—but you don’t look your age. Your hair has retained its color, aside from the very artful looking gray starting to creep in at your temples, just barely there. Your face isn’t lined, not like his anyway, delicate, graceful little lines by your eyes, instead of the deep creases that crack up his. You don’t seem to ache in the same way he does, either. You don’t seem to feel old.

Maybe that’s why he’s so set on working himself down to the bone over chopping that wood, to prove he was still worth something to you, worth keeping around. Proof that he could keep up with what needed keeping up with.

He watches himself in the mirror, the lines under his eyes and across his forehead, age creeping in around the edge of him like a slow poison. The way you look at him sometimes. . .he knows you think about it too, know it too. You had been in the yard before dinner, eyes locked on him, a look on your face he couldn’t quite get a read on.

It worries him. Makes him sharp with you when he should be the opposite.

It’s embarrassing, really, the way he thinks about it, hates the way your eyes linger on him and feels too fucking self-concious about it to just ask you what you’re thinking. Maybe he just doesn’t want to know.

He glances away from his reflection, a sigh heavy in his chest. He needs a damn haircut, if nothing else.

He makes quick work of the shower, dressing in something warm because he’s always cold, even if that's just another thing he won’t admit to and that is an aversion that gets worse as the years go by.

You gave him a scarf recently, blue and soft, and he wears it because he likes the way you look at him when he leaves in the morning with it on.

When he pushes the door open, you’re still awake, curled up on his side of the bed, book held open with one hand. “Thought we were supposed to do that together,” he says mildly.

“I’m just re-reading where we left off.”

“Mm,” he sits down at your hip. “Scooch.”

You move over just enough for him to lie down, which he does with a huff and a groan. “You got that whole other side there, you know.”

“I like being close to you.”

“Well it ain’t like I’m far. Now c’mon, move it.”

“Cranky.”

“Thought it was crabby?”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan. “Real funny. Y’know sometimes I don’t even know if y’like me at all.”

The way you say it makes something sting in his chest, a sharp little barb wedged between two of his ribs.

You start to move further away, like he asked, when he hooks an arm around your waist, props himself up over you, tangled up in the middle of the bed like you’d end up anyway. “Like ain’t exactly the word I would use.”

A wicked smile pulls the corners of your mouth up. “What word would you use then?”

“Hm,” he looks you over, feels the curve of your thigh, the hook of your knee, press against his hip. “I think you already know what word I’d use.”

You reach up to cup his face between hands that have seen too much violence. The skin of your palms is softer than he remembers it being just a few years before, calloused thumbs sweeping in a tender arch over the apples of his cheeks. “Mm, I think I do.”

“Yeah, y’do,” he agrees, and then lets you pull him down against your chest. The comb of your hand slides through his hair, against the back of his neck and the tops of his shoulders. It’s nice. It’s the kind of affection, attention he’s not sure he’s ever had before.

Not since he was a kid, at the very least. He’s never been the one that got held, just the one doing the holding, and he hates that he likes it.

And he does like it, craves it.

Things like this, they were so easy to get used to, and the hardest thing in the world to adjust to. The mix of it, the easiness and the hard knot of disbelief and potential rejection, make for a disarming cocktail.

You’re so warm and soft under him, the scent of you wild and homey, like cooking and chilled air and soap.

“You smell better,” you tease and pinch his bicep. “You awake?” He feels you shift, book cracked open over his shoulder. “Or am I reading to the ghosts?”

“You got me,” he mutters, curling his arms around your waist, behind your back, and you arch just a little to accommodate him. The material of your shirt rucks up under his hands, soft, scarred skin warm where he touches you. “I’m listenin’.”

You rub the back of his neck again but don’t start reading. He waits a few minutes, listening instead to the sound of your breath, even and slow in your chest, the tap of your heartbeat against his ear.

“You forget how or somethin’?” He asks eventually.

You shake your head, and the paperback comes to rest against his spine. “Have I ever said—” You stop and he waits, but nothing more is forthcoming, just your silence and the kind way you touch him.

“What?”

When he picks his head up, your brows are tilted down over your eyes; you’re frowning at him. “Nothin’,” you dismiss, massaging two fingers against his temple, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Said what?” He tries not to have a bite in his voice about it but he does anyway. Just a little bit of a snap, because he worries whatever you might have not said are all the things he thinks about himself.

You shrug. “I just think the gray looks real nice on you.” You twist a strand of his hair around your finger and tug gently.

He huffs, expecting you to grin at him so he knows you’re just teasing him. But you don’t, your gaze is reverent, adoring where it’s focused on him. “It just makes me look fuckin’ old,” he disagrees and sounds bitter about it.

“No, it means you got to get older, Joel. Not everyone gets the privilege.”

That takes the wind out of his sails. He doesn’t say anything else, words collecting in the back of his mouth like a little ocean he can’t seem to make drain away.

“It makes you look. . .rugged,” you decide, tracing the curve of his jaw. “Handsome.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah.” Another tug. “I love it.”

“Mm.” He clears his throat, tips his head down against your body again, the trapped wing of your heart fluttering faster than it had been before. “All right. Get to readin’ now.”

It makes it just a little bit harder to hate, if that look in your eyes was appreciation, affection. Maybe that’s what he’d seen in your face earlier, and couldn’t quite recognize it.

You tap the book against the back of his head. “Idiot,” you sigh, and then start to read.

It’s some kind of thriller, something you’d started at the beginning of October and still haven’t entirely worked through. The plot is a little ridiculous, all things considered. After all the horrors he’s seen, this book doesn’t do much to thrill him, though it is entertaining in its own way, maybe a little funny.

He’d have to find something new when you’re done with it. Something seasonally appropriate, if he can help it. Some kind of Hallmark holiday romance ordeal. He’d like to hear you giggle through reading something like that out loud.

Yeah, even if it keeps him up, he’d find you something like that.

When your voice fades, each word cottony and long in your mouth with fatigue, he reaches back to pluck the book from your hands, and then flick out the light.

“Baby,” you coo, and it’s nice to hear, nice to have you reaching for him in the dark, kissing him goodnight, because he’s yours, and you like him fine.

What’s the other word? The one that’s decidedly not like?

“Love you,” you say against his mouth, the edge of your lip sticking wetly to his. “Even though you’re always crabby.”

He loves you, too, even though he’s cranky about the whole goddamn world.

💕 Thank you for reading! I would love to hear any thoughts you might have! 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

eff-plays · 8 months

Text

Some camp role headcanons because I'm one of those bloggers now.

We all know Gale is the cook, and that's what he does best. Also Keeper of Arcane Secrets (organizes the book stash and relevant documents, gets really upset when someone doesn't follow this week's order (it's alphabetical by author, not title) or forgets to put stuff back where they found it).

Lae'zel keeps everybody's weapons sharp and oiled and ready. This is not innuendo, she's fucking dead serious about always keeping your blades in top condition. If you can't kill well, you'll be well killed. Or some shit. Idk, give that sword here, bitch.

Astarion doesn't want to have an official camp role aside from "prettyboy nuisance," but one day he offers to patch up the embroidery on Tav's sleeve, and it's all over. People come to him to mend their clothes and armor. He's good at it, because he's been forced to keep whatever he has in functional and presentable shape for decades.

Wyll, with his high charisma and noble background, keeps the camp's guests happy, particularly those who stay temporarily, and mediates minor conflicts. He's in charge whenever Tav isn't around, and tries to keep people content but also moving on quickly, so there's no pressure on the rest of the team.

Karlach is in charge of the inventory, mostly the mundane stuff. Keeps the camp stocked on food, but also sorts loot by stuff to sell and stuff to keep, so they're not lugging around pointless crap. Can't always tell if one enchanted blade is better than the other, but if Tav hasn't given it to someone by now, into the sell pile it goes.

Shadowheart is the medic, but very reluctantly. She won't offer you any gentle words or affirmations, and will probably just call you an idiot for stepping into a pool of acid that reduced your toes to goo. She'll grow them back, but also make fun of you relentlessly, and gossip about it later. She will NOT touch the weird rash WHERE?

#bg3 #JUST MY THOTS THOUGH #SURFACE LEVEL THOTS #FOR FUN AND FUNTIME #bg3 spoilers #a little bit

1K notes · View notes

scoutswritingcorner · 1 month

Note

Hello!

First, I’m so glad I found your wonderful blog to fuel my micro obsession.

Had an idea if you’re still taking g requests:

The hotel team decides to go to a club for a bonding exercise/letting off steam. Alastor doesn’t want to go, hates this new music, flashing lights, whatevs. He’s going to support the hotel and all that. He gets there, hates it, pouty UNTIL he sees you out on the dance floor. Watching you move plus watching others notice/approach you stirs something in him, making him feral. He stalks onto the dance floor only to pull you away to some dark hallway of the club to show you just what kind of effect you have on him.

Thanks! You’re a rockstar!!!

Dancing The Night Away

Alastor x GN!Reader

TW: GETS A LITTLE HEATED SO MINORS SHOO- 18+ NOTHING EXPLICIT IS WRITTEN BUT IT IS DEPICTED THAT STUFF DOES HAPPEN

A/N: I’m so so sorry this took so long, Anon!

Alastor let out a low growl as he watched the people around the club dance and get into each other’s personal space- touching. The music was too loud and too modern for his tastes; it made him want to tear his ears out and kill everyone around. He didn’t even make a true appearance on the dance floor, he just sat back in one of the disgusting booths watching people pass by or run off simply because they made eye contact with him. He turned his head to watch Nifty deep clean the sticky floor and grimaced at the thought of it.

It wasn’t until movement close by had his head snapping up and his eyes scanning the room, at first he didn’t see much and that would usually keep him calm but now? It infuriated him to no end as bright strobe lights started to flash and then he caught the sight of you, how Angel was dancing next to you as you held his arm, dancing along. That infuriated him to no end and his grip tightened on his cane before he tapped it onto the floor, the cane disappearing into the shadow’s easily. He didn’t like how that overgrown spider was hanging onto you and how the other people stopped dancing to watch you. Someone even had the absolute gall to try and touch you but his shadow was quicker. Silently getting rid of the nuisance as he stood up to make his way over to you, the crowd parting for him easily.

As he finally made his way over to you, he pulled you away from Angel and into his own chest making you smile and laugh at him, saying something but he couldn’t hear it over loud blaring music. He sent a glare to a random demon as they had gotten too close before he snapped his fingers, both of you disappearing in a dark secluded area of the club. He let out a sigh and relaxed for a moment, the loud music was putting a strain on his ears. “Wh- Al? What’s wrong?” You asked carefully, reaching out to place your hands on his arms as you blinked trying to get used to the darkness.

Alastor pulled you closer to his body leaning down to press a kiss to your neck, his ears flat on his head as he thought of those insolent fools trying to touch you as if you weren’t his. He’d just have to make sure they would know you belong to him, that you gave him your heart fully. “Al? Speak to me, Love..” You replied ignoring how a fire was lit in the lower parts of you, he was silent as ever but if you listened closely you could hear him make soft grunting noises in anger and his foot stomped on the ground with a heavy thud as he pushed you back against the wall. It had finally clicked in your head, your darling Beau was jealous.

Your hands came up and grabbed at his jacket lapels as he sunk his teeth into your neck, a loud gasp escaping your lips as you silently cursed at him. Then as sudden as the bite was he was licking up the blood and soothing the bite. He was going to make sure everyone knew that you were his and he was yours.

~~~

Angel scoffed as Charlie looked around, “They’ll be fine, Charlie..Alastor is with them.” He explained, causing the princess to frown. “But they aren’t even back yet-” She whispered as the front doors of the hotel opened and Alastor waltzed with you behind him. Angel froze before laughing as you glared at him desperately trying to fix your clothes and hid as many of the bite marks Alastor had left on your neck. “Looks like you both had some fun~” he called out as you looked away. “ANGEL-”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #gn reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x gn!reader

406 notes · View notes

ilsanslut · 9 months

Text

꒷♡꒷ TREAT YOU BETTER!

♰ featuring: sae itoshi + rin itoshi (mentioned) [blue lock]

♰ note: this one is a DOOSY and i'm not even kidding when i say it took me 9 hours and 45 minutes to complete this, over the course of two days of course. However, as my first time ever writing on tumblr, i decided to go all out! that being said, it would mean a lot to me if you would support this work by reading, liking, and reblogging!

sypnosis: why be with his lukewarm little brother when you could be with him instead? wc: 6.6k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. fem/fem-bodied reader. POST BLUE LOCK. sibling rivalry. implied thick/chubby!reader. sae is mean. jealous!sae. bully!sae. rin is 19. sae is 21. CHEATING. degradation. unprotected sex. fingering. squirting. rough sex. DUBIOUS CONTENT. spanking. dacryphilia. slut shaming. groping. implied size kink. minor angst. hair pulling. ONE face slap. pussy slapping.꒷꒦ view the second part here: part two.

Coming home for the holidays, birthdays, or other special occasions is somewhat of a family tradition that enables people to slow down and focus on spending quality time with loved ones. These kinds of celebrations give families that may otherwise be estranged from one another due to work or geography the chance to reunite and enjoy each other's company. And this reasoning was no different in the Itoshi household. What was the occasion for this month’s gathering? Well, it was Mama Itoshi’s birthday, of course!

You see, you have known Rin and Sae Itoshi since you were all very young. Your mothers were best friends, and by default, that meant that you three would become close as well.

Growing up with the Itoshi brothers, on the other hand, was . . . interesting, to say the least. Where Rin found your presence to be refreshing, Sae found you to be a nuisance. You didn’t care for football; you got in the way of his practice; and you were a girl. He always thought you were too weak to play with, and he didn’t hesitate to make his feelings known to you. Pulling your hair until you screamed, pushing you around when you weren’t even in his way, and calling you mean names until your little E/C eyes welded up with fat tears were just some of the things he would do to torment you. Had it not been for little Rinnie stepping in and protecting you from his brother’s outright bullying, Sae most likely would’ve continued until you cried to your mom about how mean Sae-chan was to you. But you would never do that. Your little crush on him would never allow you to get him into trouble.

Nii-chan! Don’t be too mean to Y/N. You’ll make her inner crybaby come out!

When Sae was especially cruel to you, Rin was always there to lift your spirits. He would tell you not to worry about his "meanie Nii-chan," take your hand and wipe your tears and snotty face, and lead you up to his room where you two could watch movies and play action figures away from his brother's taunts. Even if he could not take you away right away, for instance, if you three were at the park, he would always come and ride the swings or the big slides with you just to make you happy. Despite Sae’s every protest about how you were nothing more than a distraction to him, Rin, and football, you knew that your friendship was sincere and unbreakable.

As you three went through the ups and downs of childhood, you also weathered the storms of adolescence together. Sae left for Madrid, leaving you, Rin, and your previous feelings for his older brother behind to navigate the social awkwardness of junior high and share in each other's accomplishments while he was with his football team and you were at your respective clubs. Your friendship was a source of strength during those formative years, providing solace and understanding when the world seemed confusing.

As you two approached your high school years, something began to change. Accidental touches felt more like fleeting sparks, while innocent glances became lingering stares. Neither of you fully comprehended your newfound feelings, tiptoeing around the unsaid emotions that seemed to glimmer between the two of you until the day Rin asked you to be his just before entering Blue Lock. Now, for the past three years, you have been a happy couple, embarking on the dreaded hell of adulthood and the next chapter of your lives hand-in-hand.

Back in the present, the two of you were glad that Rin finally had some downtime from soccer—well . . . more so you than him. Even after the events of Blue Lock, he and Sae remained rivals, seizing any opportunity they could to humiliate each other on the field. That being said, Rin was almost always in the gym, meditating, doing yoga, or practicing his skills to pass the time. It was nice to be able to spend time together without the stress of his next upcoming game or press conference.

Because it was his mother's birthday weekend and all, she would, of course, invite her boys to come to stay with her and their father for the occasion, which included you too since you were Rin’s girlfriend. However, in the few days that you and Rin have already been at his childhood home, Sae had yet to arrive, and no one had heard from him since he texted his mother that he was on his way to the airport to depart. Regardless, the family was busy finalizing plans for their mother's big day. Mr. Itoshi was at the bakery finalizing the details for his wife's cake, Mrs. Itoshi was out for brunch with your mother, and Rin had gone for an afternoon jog because "staying cooped up all day will turn him into a lukewarm lard ass," in his words. As for you? You had just begun to rise, completing some housework in one of Rin’s old jerseys and washing the dishes on which you and Rin had just eaten a delicious breakfast.

After completing your tasks, you made your way back up the lavish stairs of their home with every intention of going back into Rin’s childhood room that you two were sharing for the weekend when you froze. Your gaze traveled to the opposite end of the hallway, to the closed door whose presence loomed in the distance—Sae’s room.

Memories from your childhood flashed back to you, of you watching him and Rin play all too violent and scary zombie video games, rewatching his matches, and, most begrudgingly, the numerous times he nudged your head with his foot and tousled your perfectly styled hair just to get a rise out of you.

Cringing internally at the past memories, you took a further step in the direction of Rin's room before hesitating once more.

It wouldn’t hurt to take a little peek inside Sae’s room, would it?

Despite your better judgment, you shuffled over the closed door and paused with your slender digits loosely encircling the handle. Your stomach churned and your heart thumped in your chest as your inner voice warned you not to enter another person's private space without their consent. But hold on—why were you getting anxious? Who was going to catch you when no one was at home? Turning the knob gently, the heavy oak door would give way with the tiniest of creaks, revealing a rather uninteresting-looking room. But given that Sae had rarely if ever, been home since junior high, it only made sense for it to be so plain. Aside from the plethora of trophies, medals, certificates, and framed photos that lined his dresser, what made it even more amusing was that those were only the leftovers from what could not fit in his trophy case beside his wooden dresser, which housed some of his youth team jerseys and junior trinkets.

You crept further into the cold room, wrapping your arms around yourself, and shuffled over to the plethora of awards from Sae's tireless efforts. As much as you weren’t fond of him, you had to admit that it was beyond admirable that a child was able to accomplish so much in so little time. He possessed a natural talent that professionals would kill for and others were envious of. Even though you were never interested in the sport, you envied him for being so naturally gifted at something he was passionate about.

“Some ‘monster genius’, huh?” You scoffed to yourself as your gaze fell on the last photo of Sae and Rin playing on the same team together before their relationship fell apart. Oh, how you miss those good old days of your youth.

“The fuck are you doing in here?”

Coming from behind you, an all too familiar voice startled you out of your reverie. Turning around, your wide eyes came to rest on Sae's form, which was motionless in the doorway, his stoic visage forever unamused, and his overnight shoulder bag resting by his feet.

When did he come in?

More notably, he’s . . . changed from the last time you’ve seen him since the U-20 vs. Blue Lock game three years ago. He was a bit taller, probably around 6’2” now. Because he was wearing a long-sleeved white compression shirt and gray sweatpants, you were able to see that his muscles were more defined than before, with every ridge and curve pronounced more vividly. His maroon locks had grown a bit longer, with his fringes now reaching slightly beyond his chiseled, clenched jaw, though his bangs remained forever lopsided and flipped back. And his turquoise eyes—had they gotten even sharper since the last time you'd seen them? The way they were glowering down at you, it was almost as though they were piercing right through your very soul.

“You deaf or something, you half-brained moron?”

Your eyes rolled exasperatedly into the back of your head as he rudely interrupted your thoughts. Only ten seconds after you reconnected, here he was spewing insults your way.

“Nice to see you too, Sae.” You grumbled sarcastically, internally dreading what this weekend would hold in store for the both of you.

In response, he hummed, remaining motionless in the doorway as his teal eyes bore into you with something unknown. The truth is, while you were distracted by his physical appearance, he was ogling you in the same manner. You had grown since the last time he’d seen you when you were back in high school. Your once innocent eyes now had a glint in them that could only be described as nubile; your once round cheeks had slimmed a bit to fit your maturing features; and your body . . . Damn, have you really grown over the years. You had developed a more feminine frame, with fuller thighs, widened hips, larger breasts, and a more prominent ass. You had developed into a truly breathtaking young woman, despite how much he hated to admit it.

“Almost thought you weren’t going to show at all.” You sighed, lazily checking your nails. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I live here.” His voice was deadpan and monotone, yet it held an underlying hint of irritation. “All these years have passed since grade school, and you’re still as braindead as when you were a child.”

“And you’re just as much of an asshole as you used to be.”

You resisted the urge to sneer, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he was getting under your skin, as you dropped your arms to your sides. When you made this motion, his brows would furrow, and he would cast a scrutinizing glare at your choice of clothing.

Talking to him was futile, and you did not want to be in this room any longer than necessary now that he was there. “Good to have you home, genius.” You spat sarcastically, attempting to push past him to exit the room, when all of a sudden his large hand would seize your bicep, halting your steps.

Your head snapped to him, your gaze a mixture of frustration and confusion as your lips parted to shout a rebuttal his way; however, upon seeing the blazing fire that had ignited in his eyes, you hesitated. His eyes narrowed to thin slits, like two fiery coals burning fiercely within his sockets. The intensity of his gaze was enough to send shivers down your spine, making you acutely aware of the gravity of his sudden wrath. His jaw clenched tightly, showing the strain of controlling his rage, and his brows furrowed, forming a menacing V-shape above his oculars.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” He seethed through clenched teeth, his voice deep and full of poorly contained malice.

You blinked. Your jaw dropped as you gawked at him, beyond perplexed. He had caught you so off guard that even you had to check what you were wearing to make sure you were not wearing anything objectionable. Nothing worth offending—fuzzy black pajama shorts that hugged your plush thighs, plain slippers, Rin's worn-out football jersey.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you coy little slut.”

That silenced you effectively. Your eyes enlarged—almost lamblike—and your pretty lips drew in a subtle gasp. Any previous spark that had been ignited within you had quickly diminished, choosing silence over tossing more gasoline onto Sae’s roaring flames.

It appeared as though his entire being was directing his wrath into his single, piercing gaze as every muscle in his face tightened with each passing second. His lips, which are typically flat or curved into an unamused frown, were now deep-set, corners tugging into an awful scowl.

“Why are you wearing that lukewarm loser’s jersey?” When you should be wearing mine?

Now it was your turn to be infuriated as he insulted your boyfriend—his brother—the same person he had thrown out like garbage all those years earlier. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you could hear your blood pumping in your ears.

“So I’m not allowed to wear my own boyfriend’s jersey now, fuckface?” His gaze faltered. “You going to call me names for that too, Sae? Pull my hair? Spit in my face? Huh?”

“*What did you just say?”

“I said are you going to—”

“No, you cow-titted bimbo. The first thing you said.” He leaned in closer to your face, his eyes owlish and unblinking since you opened your mouth. You could smell his minty breath from the gum he had been chewing wafting into your face, “Say it again.”

“I’m not allowed to wear my boyfriend’s jersey?” You repeated, confusion etching your tone.

“That.” He snarled, his voice elated in a sick way, as though he had just found out the answer to some legendary riddle.

The hand that had been gripping your bicep now violently jerked you to the side, shoving you into his door. Before you had time to react, he crowded your personal space as his forearm pressed against the wood above your head, allowing you to smell the faint scent of his expensive cologne. “When did that happen?”

The initial fire that fueled his rage now transformed into a different kind of heat, a simmering and bitter envy that gnawed at his insides. He found himself grappling with conflicting emotions - on the one hand, he was somewhat happy that his blockhead of a brother managed to get a girlfriend, but on the other hand, it was you. The same girl that he had been pining over since you were first introduced to him all those years ago. The same girl that he thought was prettiest when she pouted at him with fat tears in her eyes and pleaded with him to be nicer to her. The same girl that consumed his thoughts 24/7. The same girl that he jerked his cock to at night after seeing how her fat tits in that all too small jersey bounced every time she cheered for his brother at that stupid game against Blue Lock. The same girl that, on all of those lonely nights overseas, he wished that, instead of fucking his fist, he was pummeling himself deep in your sopping wet cunt. The same girl that he was about to ruin before his brother got home from his whereabouts.

“Before Blue Lock . . .” Your voice was hushed, barely above a whisper, as though you were afraid of awakening a savage beast.

Three years. Three fucking years, and no one told him?! Not his mother, not his father, not Rin, not your stupid little social media (that he may or may not have been stalking) where you posted pictures of cats, candid photos of your friends, or whatever the fuck you got at your local coffee shop that day—not even you.

His once-obvious fury and visceral expression subsided, simmering beneath the surface in a contained inferno that burned with a ferocity few could fathom. Despite the turmoil raging inside him, he remained eerily calm, his stoic facade masking the storm within.

His demeanor exuded a cold, steely resolve that sent shivers down your spine and, quite frankly, took your breath away. There was an ominous sense of stillness in his presence, as if the air itself dared not disturb the calmness he projected.

“. . . Do you love him?” He spoke in hushed tones, each word enunciated with precision and purpose. There was no need for loud outbursts; the intensity of his calmness alone was enough to make you cower beneath him.

You were dumbfounded by his question, powerless to respond, and yet the longer you remained silent, the more you could see the cracks in his facade begin to scorch through his surface.

“D-Don’t be stupid, Sae. Of course I do, he’s my—”

You would never be able to finish your statement quick enough before his hands were on you, meaty palms digging into your hair, blunt nails scratching against your scalp as he grabbed a visceral hold onto your roots. The searing pain and astonishment coursing through your frame had you shrieking—in what? You didn’t know. Fear? Agony? Guilt?

Using his grip on you as a lead, he would tug you forcefully out of your slippers and down the hall to somewhere unknown. He ignored your screams as the weight atop your head forced your sight to the ground, your manicured nails digging into his wrist and clawing in an attempt to be freed.

“S-Sae, I-I’m sorry! Please, let me go! You’re hurting me!”

He said nothing, his heavy and deliberate footsteps speaking for him before he paused a short distance later. He threw you forward carelessly with surprising strength, causing you to land painfully on the wooden floors in front of you, barely having time to brace yourself with your palms. You had no time to catch your breath, though, as he shuffled over to you with fast-paced footsteps. Looking up fretfully, you would see Sae towering over you, taking notice that you were now on the floor of Rin’s room just before his bed.

“Sae—”

“Sae! Sae! Don’t be stupid; I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He openly mocked you, his lip curled into the faintest of sneers as he glowered down at you in hatred. Although even you could see that there was a bit of hurt behind his cruel teal eyes, “All you do is flap those pretty fuckin’ lips of yours, never knowin’ when to shut your stupid little trap.”

He relished in the way your bottom lip trembled and your eyes grew glassy, the same way they used to all those years ago.

“Still a little crybaby too, I see. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll be sorry soon enough for leading me on all this time.” He grumbled, lunging for you again.

He snagged at your roots again, drawing a sob from your lips as he mercilessly dragged you to your feet. Releasing his grip on your hair, he instead chose to grab your jaw harshly in his palm, using his thumb and forefinger to squish your cheeks and pucker your lips so that he may smash his lips against your own. It was messy, sloppy, and full of passion and rage on Sae’s end. He smeared your gloss, claimed your brims, and forced his tongue into your pretty, pliant mouth, all with the intention of claiming you and your maw for his own—but you would never let him.

You belong to Rin! You were loyal to him! So then, why do Sae’s lips feel so damn good against your own right now? This was wrong. So, so wrong, and yet, why did you want more of him?

Your mind was cloudy. Your head was spinning. You couldn’t breathe. He was suffocating you. Your dainty fists beat at his beefy chest and shoulders, trying to get him to get off of you, but to no avail. Instead, he seized both of your wrists in the grasp of his other hand and squeezed painfully in a warning, forcing you to whine against his lips—a delightful sound that went straight to his hardening bulge that he shamelessly pressed against you, grinding sinfully against your hips.

When he finally pulled away from you, you clearly appeared dazed. Your eyes were half-lidded and glassy, yet you were silently pleading for him to give you more. Your plump lips had swollen from his being pressed so forcefully against your own, and a singular strand of saliva still connected your lips to his own—one which he would sinfully lick away with a salacious swipe of his tongue.

The hand he used to grab your face gently shook your head back and forth, his sadistic turquoise hues savoring your already fucked-out expression. “There’s the greedy bitch I know and love. Finally decided to show yourself, huh? What? You want more, hm? What about your little boyfriend, princess?”

“R-Rin . . . I love, Ri—” You were cut off when Sae’s expression flared, his hand releasing your face for naught but seconds before connecting with your cheek in a hard slap. You squealed from the impact, your head whipping to the side in shock, but you could not help but feel strangely aroused by the contact. He grabbed your cheeks in his palm once more and tightened his hold on your face, bringing you closer to him until you were nose to nose.

“Don’t lie to me, you little minx.” He snarled as he cut his eyes at you. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking at me after all these years, like you wanted me? Or that I haven’t overheard your stupid little conversations about how dreamy you think I am to your friends, huh? Or how about now, when you swear up and down that you love my loser little brother, when here you are already going stupid on me when I’ve barely even touched you?”

You clenched your eyes shut as hot, guilty tears rushed behind your lids. He’s right. You've wanted him—always have—but it was too late now. You were with Rin, and he was the love of your life. You could not possibly change that, could you?

“Just say it, Y/N.” He chided, his voice softer than it was before, yet it still held it’s cold, irritated undertone. “Say you want me, and I’ll make you feel better than that lukewarm little shit ever has.” He released your face and smoothed his thick digits over the top of your head, stopping only when he could rest his fingers beneath your chin and tilt your head to look up at him. Your gaze focused on him once more.

“ . . . I want you, Sae. B-But Rin . . . ”

Sae hushed you again, pressing his lips against yours. How badly he wanted that name to never again be uttered by your lovely tongue. When Sae pulled away again, there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“We’ll be quick, okay?” A lie. He was going to take his time fucking his brother’s name out of your memory. “He’ll never suspect a thing.”

Your apprehension was palpable, but ultimately you would succumb to sin and let desire and greed rule over logic and reason. You nodded, giving him the nonverbal go-ahead to stomp on the accelerator and never let up.

“Good girl.” He praised you, both hands abandoning your face to now grip at the collar of your shirt. In one swift motion, he ripped Rin’s jersey clean off of you from down the middle. “About time we got that shit off of you. The sight of it was makin’ me sick.” He spat as he tossed the tattered fabric over his shoulder.

You were not wearing a bra, so the violent motion had your breasts bouncing free after being momentarily released from their confines, allowing them to slap softly against the flesh of your rib cage—much to Sae’s viewing pleasure. You grew sheepish as he seemed to freeze, staring so brazenly at your bare breasts that you began to feel a bit self-conscious. Was something wrong? Did he not like them? Was he expecting more? Less?

In reality, the answer was none of the above. The midfielder swore under his breath as he shoved you back onto Rin's cozy comforter. He hastily climbed on top of you and used his body weight to pin you against the bed as his lustful hands began to grope and knead at your supple flesh, eliciting precious mewls with each delightful squeeze. His lips would latch onto one of your breasts as he dipped his head downward; the thumb and forefinger of his free hand would play with the other, teasing your nipples. His sharp teeth bit greedily over the delicate areola as his tongue flicked and laved over the hardening buds. The stimulation only served to heighten your arousal, as evidenced by the way you wailed his name like a sweet song meant only for his ears and how your thighs squeezed together from your excitement drooling from your folds.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Sae, who was busy alternating between pleasuring both of your breasts and growling under his breath, “Lewd fuckin’ body. S’all mine . . .” When he pulled away, there were visible marks left in his wake—light red splotches and indentations of hungry teeth imprinted on your skin.

He reached for the hem of his compression shirt and lifted it above his head, tossing it off to the side as he sat above you, staring lustfully down at you. He would manhandle you further after sliding off of your body. He pulled your shorts down in one motion, grabbed your thick thighs by the backs of your knees, and pushed them up towards your breasts. When he did, he couldn’t help but whistle, admiring how your puffy folds clung together and your inner thighs remained sticky from your translucent arousal.

“Has he ever made you wet like this?” Sae inquired, leering at you from between your thighs like a hungry lion with it’s eyes set predatorily on a helpless gazelle, to which your gaze would quickly avert. You and Rin had such a strong emotional bond that you never felt the need for frequent sex between you two. There were a few times, though, when Rin would fuck you after a winning game in a way that made you see stars, but those were always very far apart.

Your silence was all Sae needed for his answer. He crept back up onto you, chuckling sardonically as he held your thigh up with one hand, using his body to keep your other spread apart. He wanted to see all of your pretty expressions up close and personal when he ravished you. Swiping two of his fingers between your folds, the sudden motion caused your hips to jerk into his touch and you to keen with need.

Slowly, he inserted a single digit inside of you, hissing at how your walls selfishly gripped his fingers and eagerly tried to devour more of him. “Loosen up, will you, greedy slut?” He slapped your thigh with his other hand as your back arched with pleasure. “This tight pussy will never be able to take my cock at this rate.”

You tried to loosen up, you really did, but there was something so delicious—so tantilizing—about his thick, calloused fingers caressing your velvety walls that made you crave more of him. He continued to thrust his single digit inside of you, his teal oculars peering into your own with such intensity that it forced you to look away.

“Stop that.” His hand that grabbed the back of your knee slithered along your outer thigh until he could grasp your chin and force you to look back at him. ��Eyes on me.” He ordered, to which you would nod dumbly amidst your pleasured mewls.

You felt the delightful stretch of another of his thick fingers pressing into your sopping cunt, thrusting in tandem with his previous one, as he leaned closer to you and his lips just barely touched your own.

“S-Sae, mmph, more, please, please, touch me more.” You begged, bringing a sinful smirk to the midfielder’s lips.

Unexpectedly, he would comply with your requests, pressing the pad of his thumb against your throbbing clit and rubbing quick, pleasurable cricles with his fingers as he arduously sought out that sweet, sweet spot inside of you. You could not help but start sobbing his name, his thick fingers filling you to the brim even though he had yet to stuff his cock into you. Each time he curled upward inside of you, his impeccable skill had you gasping for reprieve.

It was nothing like Rin’s. His fingers were slightly thinner than his brother’s, but they were a tad longer too, able to reach the deepest spots within you without even trying. Sae's immense precision and experience, which allowed him to know exactly where your sweetest spots lay within you, made up for his lack of length.

“ . . . Are you seriously thinking about him right now?”

You were startled out of your reverie by his curious tone and thinly veiled anger. You tried to focus on his hardened features through your daze, but you couldn’t. The knot in your tummy tightened, and you felt an enormous wave of pleasure wash over you. Something big was coming, and you could feel it reverberating all throughout your core.

“He could never make you feel this good, could he? Never get this pretty cunt this wet for him, hm?” All throughout his monologue, you could hear the sinful squelching of your juices soaking his palm, dripping down his wrist, and splattering onto the floor. You were a mess beneath him. He would abuse that rough patch just along your upper walls until your toes clung to the sheets in ecstasy.

“M’sorry, m’sorry!” You mewled, breath coming out in short, high-pitched pants as you writhed under him, his pace increasing as he felt your walls fluttering around his fingers.

“Who’s making a mess of you right now? Huh? Speak up, princess; let me hear you say it.”

“—You, Sae! You, you, you! Hah, please, I-I can’t . . . ! I-I’m gonna—”

“Do it. Cum on my fuckin’ fingers. Make a mess for me, pretty.”

You did just that. Your body went rigid for naught but a second before your back was arched into him, and your head tossed itself back into the pillows as a chorus of unabashed wails of your release erupted from your pretty, drooling lips. Your release was immense—loud—as a gushing of juices from your pussy thoroughly drenched the sheets, Sae’s sweatpants, his abs, and his entire forearm.

You squirted. For him. For the first time ever.

It was uncharacteristic how an almost feral grin twisted on Sae’s lips, his fingers removing from your sopping cunt to place a few well-directed slaps on your far too sensitive and overstimulated pussy.

“Atta’ fuckin’ girl. Can’t believe my baby brother was keeping such a sweet little succubus all to himself—selfish bastard.”

You couldn’t even hear him; your chest was rising and falling heavily as tears of pleasure ran down your cheeks (and thighs).

“Hey, hey. You still with me?” His tone was soft, his typically impassive visage now meeting your own with furrowed eyebrows and a tinge of concern behind his bright hues.

You nodded—it was all you could muster at this moment, but it was good enough for Sae. He brought his soaking hand to your parted lips, lightly tapping the digits on your plump flesh in a silent command for you to clean him off. He chuckled. Your lithe tongue and eager brims slurped, licked, and sucked your mess off of his thick fingers that were now shoved down your throat without you even needing to be told what to do.

“You wanna do that again for me? On my cock this time, pretty?”

You were exhausted, your body already aching beneath him, but you still craved more from him. Another meek nod was given, your dazed eyes meeting his only to utter around his fingers, words garbled from his fingers on your tongue, “Wantha’ squirth’ awound ya cahwk.”

That was all Sae needed to hear as he stepped off of the bed, making quick work to discard his soaked sweatpants and boxers into the growing pile of clothes at the base of the bed. His large hands grabbed your soft hips, tugging you toward him with ease as he flipped you onto your hands and knees. He let out a growl, his hand raising to smack your plump ass once, then twice, on both of your cheeks before taking big, greedy handfuls of your flesh into his ravenous palms. This was undoubtedly already his favorite thing about you.

Standing by the edge of the bed, Sae placed your body horizontally across the mattress with your head facing the door. With a forceful push of your face down into the sheets, your view of the room instantly became obscured. You craned your neck back, peering at Sae from over the arch of your back as he grabbed one of your fat cheeks in one hand and used his other to line his cock up with your entrance. He slapped his heavy cock against your folds, his blossoming mushroom tip connecting with your throbbing clit making you both keen with ecstasy.

He couldn’t wait any more. He needed to be inside of you. He entered your drooling cunt with a single, calculated push, and your fluttering walls were already trying to devour more of him in response to the intrusion. Sae groaned as his hips met the flesh of your ass once he was buried to the hilt inside of you. His head lulled back as he dug his blunt nails into your flesh.

For the past three years, this—this right here is exactly what he had been craving, yearning over, and lusting for—and now he had it. He nearly came from the feeling inside of you alone, though; he’d be damned if he let the fun stop there.

A steady pace was quickly established by the midfielder's hips, and his long, deliberate strokes were deep enough to feel in your tummy and cause your toes to curl up in pleasure. Having had such a powerful orgasm not even minutes earlier, you were still fairly sensitive; however, that only made things all the more enjoyable.

“O-Oh my god, y-your cock, it’s t-too much, I-I can’t—”

“Don’t tell me you can’t, you cock-loving slut.” He snapped at you, cutting your pleas short with a sharp thrust of his hips. The rhythmic plapping of your ass against his pelvis resonated off the walls of the bedroom, lewdly ringing in your own ears. “This is everything I—we’ve—been wanting for years. Don’t tell me that now, all of a sudden—” He paused, groaning deeply through gritted teeth as you clenched around him. “—That this pretty pussy can’t take anymore when you’re gripping me so desperately.”

“B-But Sae, i-it feels too good! Like I’m . . . I’m gonna make a mess again!” You whined.

He thought it was adorable that even in the most deplorable and deprived of acts, you still attempted to hold some semblance of modesty. Oh, how you were both far past that.

If anything, that just fueled his aggression. He used your words as justification to pummel your poor pussy harder and faster, putting both of his hands on your hips and lower back and pressing his weight against you to force you into an almost painful arch as his pelvis slammed into your ass. Your vision went blurry from his unforgiving pace, and your throat went raw from your cries and screams of pleasure.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” He grunted in between thrusts, a hand raising to land a furious smack on your ass that caused you to mewl and your tiny fists to grip the sheets.

“Y-You, Sae! You are! Ngh, plea—”

“And who’s cock do you like better, huh, princess? Me or that lukewarm fuckface’s?”

You hesitated, but only for a millisecond, as you felt the blunt head of his cock caressing your sweet spot, pummeling into you over and over as your thighs began to shake, growing unable to hold yourself up from the stimulation. His thrusts faltered as his cock twitched inside of you. You figured he was close too.

“Yours, y-yours! Your cock feels so good, I-I’m gonna cum again! I’m ngh gonna cum all over your f-fuck-ing cock!”

He let out an almost animalistic groan, something between a chuckle and a feral snarl, “Yeah, princess? You really mean it?” He moved one of his hands to your hair, threading his fingers through it without yet pulling, almost as if he were waiting for your response.

Your response was almost instantaneous, and the adorable chorus of incoherent babbles and cries of "yes, yes, yes" left your head spinning. You had the sensation that you might pass out completely.

Your head was abruptly yanked out of the pillows, and your gaze was once again forced upward. Your eyes, albeit blurry and glassy, caught sight of the all-too-familiar figure standing in the doorway. Sweat dribbling from his forehead while dressed in a white windbreaker and sweatpants to protect himself from the elements during his jog, stood the one person who filled you with dread.

Rin.

He was back.

As your eyes locked onto the all-too-memorable teal ones boring into your own, your moans ceased. The logic and reason that you had previously dismissed for giving into your desires came flooding back. Guilt, which had been gnawing at the pit of your stomach, reared it’s ugly head once more.

He caught you.

With his brother.

The realization of your actions, the feeling of knowing that you hurt someone you cared deeply about and promised your life to, left you reeling. The enormity of the situation left you speechless and unable to respond.

As the shock slowly gave way to the depths of your despair, tears welled up in your eyes, this time of anguish. Your ability to control your emotions ran out, and you began to sob, letting the tears run down your cheeks. Each tear that ran free was weighed down by guilt and regret.

All the while, Sae never stopped thrusting behind you. Almost as if he remained unfazed by his brother’s—your boyfriend’s—sudden appearance.

“R-Rin—”

“—Save it.”

His initial shock, disbelief, and hurt gradually gave way to something else. He was angry, searing with anger as malice began to rise within him, a blaze of fury that threatened to consume him. Though he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at . . . Sae?

“You told me you would wait until I got back, Nii-chan.”

The air left your lungs.

. . . What?

Using the grip from your hair, Sae pulled you back into him, pressing your body flush against his own as he craned your neck back into an awkward angle, forcing your gaze to meet his own. A dark and unsettling satisfaction crept into his expression, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk. His eyes sparkled with a perverse delight, reveling in the twisted pleasure he derived from your adorably bewildered and anguished expression.

Your breath hitched.

Your mind raced for answers.

Sae’s gaze lazily tore from your own and to Rin's, who still remained in the doorway, the forward’s eyes sinfully burning into the way your breasts bounced sinfully from each of Sae’s now slow, agonizing thrusts.

"You know, little brother, it is not too late to join in on the fun."

if this gets enough attention, i may make a part two!

#blue lock smut #bllk smut #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #sae itoshi smut #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #itoshi sae smut #itoshi brothers #vampiiebitez #tw:dubcon #bllk headcanons #blue lock headcanons

2K notes · View notes

sugawarassoulmate · 2 years

Text

it's samu's birthday 🥹 (and atsumu's but this isn't about him sksks)

words: 652 cw: fem!reader, sleepy sex, dubious consent, minors dni

"get off of me," he groans once again, making no effort to push you away. osamu won't admit that he's hard right now, cock pressed against the soft fabric of his sweatpants. it's all your fault, really. your small hands keep rubbing against him while you kiss the sensitive part of his neck.

he just wants to go to sleep.

you're straddling his lap, hand slipping under his sweats to wrap around his length. if osamu had been more awake right now, he'd probably question why you were being so forward with him. you're usually never like this—always so shy and timid, even after all this time.

but tonight's different, you're grinding on him and doing everything in your power to turn him on and it's fucking working. a long day at work left osamu's body sore and sweaty. after a shower, he dropped into your shared bed and didn't want to be disturbed.

of course, you came into the room at some point, ready to be a nuisance and giving osamu the sweetest kisses. he'd never complain about having your attention, but he just wants to fucking sleep. "yer this desperate fer me to fuck ya? can't it wait?" he asks, trying to hide the moans almost slipping from his mouth.

you were fully stroking him now, letting his precum ooze out so you could tease the head of his cock. he supposes that's what he gets for teaching you how to be his personal slut, you'd eventually use it against him.

"i can do all the work, samu," you mumbled, tugging his sweats down with your free hand just enough to pull his cock all the way out. his eyes are still closed, so he doesn't see the way you bite your lip upon seeing his thick length hit his stomach. "wanna make both of us feel good."

he shrugs, letting you do what you want with him. "don't expect me to help. ya want it so bad, better make sure both of us get off."

osamu expects you to suck him off or give him a handy and maybe after he cums, he'll be nice and eat you out. he knows his words are harsh but there's no way he'd leave his dumb baby high and dry.

but you go beyond his expectations when osamu feels the wet warmth of your cunt sinking down on his cock, easily stretching your walls until he's buried as deep as he can go. "fuck," he grunts, definitely not ready for any of that. "holy shit gimme some kind of fuckin' warnin' next time, idiot."

"sorry," you hum, waiting a few seconds before grinding your hips ever so slightly. how did you get so wet? were you really that desperate for him? does he need to pay more attention to you? you're fucking insatiable.

osamu grips the bed sheets, trying to keep his word and let you do everything, but it takes all of his will not to buck his hips into you. what has gotten into you? he's definitely not upset at this new side of you tonight, but it's so uncharacteristic. "shit, what's this fuckin' attitude of yers?" he whines, opening his eyes to see you bouncing on him—a sight he'll never get tired of.

"you really don't know, samu?" you giggle, easily creating a steady rhythm. you pull your shirt up, letting your tits bounce freely with every thrust. if osamu had the energy, he'd twirl the sensitive buds between his fingers. "look at the time…" you leaned down, changing the angle of osamu's cock inside you, and shove your phone in his face.

the bright light hurts his eyes, but he can clearly see the time. it's past midnight, october 5. oh, he thinks, another curse slipping out when your walls tighten around him.

"happy birthday, baby," you say against his lips. "let me be your gift."

#haikyuu smut #haikyu smut #osamu smut #osamu x reader #miya osamu smut #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu miya smut #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya #haikyuu reactions #haikyuu imagines #haikyu x raeder #haikyuu x reader #🍑#🍑osamu #bully!osamu

5K notes · View notes

dailyadventureprompts · 1 month

Text

Monster Hunt: Roilwreak, Temperamental Elemental

WHATS SHAKING YOU WIZARD BITCHES, GUESS WHO BROKE CONTAINMENT AGAIN?? THAT'S RIGHT, ITS MEEE!!!

Beginning life as an apprentice's over ambitious and much procrastinated thesis project, this arcane entity has entered into a troubled adolescence marked by making itself a calamitous nuisance. Being a Weird ( an elemental composed of two contradictory natures) Roilwreak is possessed by a destructive restlessness that only seems to find an outlet in causing problems for others, whether it be in property damage, petty arson, or the disarray of arcane workings for the sheer shit-disturbing fun of it.

Adventure Hooks

Roilwreak spends most of its time in a warded enclosure on the grounds of the academy in which it was summoned, tended to by apprentices and occasional studied for its unique ability to interfere with different kinds of magical energy. There's a rumour that upperclassmen (and even faculty) sometimes sneak in after hours to bargain with the elemental in order to fuel their more elaborate rituals.. which might be how the Weird managed to escape this time. Pheraps the homebrew potion dregs and scraps of firecrackers from the nearby market can point at a suspect.

The elemental has given the academy the slip and disapeared into the city's pipeworks, resulting in minor flooding as pipes crack under unexpected pressure and a number of injuries as a pubic fountain boiled off into scalding mist. The local garison have put a bounty out for whoever can slay the elemental, but the academy just want it returned safely. It IS a sapient creature after all, and it can't help that chaos is in it's nature.

A villainous mage has heard of the Weird's powers and wants to make use of them, binding Roilwreak into a weapon or draining off its energy for some awful ritual. Having organized an infiltration (or perhaps the current breakout) it's a race to see who can catch the hyper-charged herptile first.

#elemental #seeking power #wizard #mid level #low level #mystery #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #ttprg #pathfinder #monster hunt #arcane

215 notes · View notes

detectivestucks · 2 months

Text

Home

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Yandere Tobi/Obito x F!Reader

Summery: Obito found you paying your respects to his memorial and an obsession with his first love's best friend blossoms. Soon he finds that he will do anything and everything to protect you, his delicate peach.

Warnings: Stalking, Violence, Kidnapping, Fingering, Nipple play, Unprotected Penetration, Virgin Reader, implied threat of suicide.

Word Count: 9.7k

Author's note: Yes, I know the timeline is a bit altered, it was a creative decision. Deal with it. :)

Itachi and Kisame remove their hats as they return to the hideout looking slightly worn out, presumably from battle. They had just finished scoping out the Leaf in search of the nine tails jinchuriki and Itachi’s little brother, Sasuke.

“Did everything go okay?” Pain asked

“Yes, we ran into my former captain.”

“Itachi had it covered but the copy ninja's annoying boyfriend started attacking and then some shinobi we couldn’t see sent shockwaves into the ground that sparked a small tsunami.”

“It was at that point we thought it best to retreat. We know the jinchuriki is still located inside the village. There was no need for further engagement.”

Obito felt his chest constrict. Shockwaves...he knew that jutsu. That was the trademark of Rin’s best friend. That was a jutsu unique to you. But you had left the village a long time ago. When had you come back?

Itachi being the only one among them who knew Tobi’s identity, quickly noticed the shift in Obito’s stance. The rest of the group, completely oblivious to the insignificant comic relief, did not notice as Obito exited the room and hurried towards the village.

Rather than scouring the Leaf hunting for you, he waited at the one spot he knew you’d come, the memorial yard. Sure enough it only took one evening to catch you bringing lilies to your best friend’s grave. Obito cried with you as you shed tears for your friend but then you did something he didn’t expect, you stopped at the memorial stone to pay your respects to him.

“Obito, I wish you knew how much I cared for you. You didn’t deserve what you got. You were too good for this world.” You dragged your fingertips along his name, tears streaming down your cheeks as you remembered the boy you loved as a child.

You…cared for him? He was… too good?

Obito felt a pang in his chest. You were just like her. So kind and sweet. Always seeing the best in people. Even poor retches like him. He wanted to thank you but he didn’t want to scare you. Instead he let curiosity get the better of him and followed you home. He watched you through the window as you did your nighttime routine. Seeing you at peace alone in your home brought him contentment. He snuck up to the window’s sill to catch a closer view as you got into bed and drifted to sleep. It brought him comfort to see you rest and he took that comfort with him as he finally returned to the hideout.

The next day, plans for tracking the other tailed beasts including the three tails had Obito feeling emotional. Itachi caught how stiff ‘Tobi’ stood during the conversation and soon after caught him leaving the hideout to go see you. He found you at the training grounds running drills with Kakashi’s team.

“Y/N-sensei, I wanna learn a new jutsu!”

“Now Naruto, I am under direct orders from Kakashi to work on chakra control drills with you three. A new jutsu will be no good if you don’t have a way to command the chakra to execute it.”

“When will Kakashi-sensei be better?”

“He’ll be better soon Sakura, don’t you worry.”

Obito sat in the trees watching you for a few hours until the jinchuriki kid was done pestering you. He was such a nuisance but you didn’t lose your patience even a little. The same could not be said about his teammates which seemed to only bring you amusement. When you were done you walked over to the memorial stone and gave your gratitude to your fallen comrades before heading home.

You were so much like her. Beautiful and sweet as a peach. The way you cared for and nurtured others, it took a hold of his heart. He could watch you all day and never get bored. You were his light in the darkness of the Akatsuki.

The next day he went out with his partner on their mission. While Deidara requested alone time so he didn’t need to suffer Tobi’s presence, Obito used kamui to visit you. Carefully watching from a distance till you fall asleep. Just like he did every time he visits you. Following the same ritual as before. He’d enter your home and play with your hair, stroking it as you slept. Some nights he would lay with you and breathe in your scent while you were none the wiser. It was in these moments that he knew he needed to protect you. His delicate little peach. No one in this cruel world would bruise you. He would make sure of it.

One evening while you were paying your respects to your friends, a jonin he didn’t recognize approached you. The man brushed your hip and backside and you pulled away as he asked you on a date. The audacity of the man to think of romance while you were mourning your lost comrades. You had told him no and he left but something told Obito it wasn’t over. This was clearly a man who needed to be stopped.

The next day the man came to you again and held your hips while he asked to take you on a date, a little more forcefully than before. You had declined his request once more and politely pushed his hands off of you before turning to walk away. He had called out to you but before he could say anything further Obito had dragged the man into his void. The shinobi looked around bewildered. Obito growled at him from behind his mask.

“The lady said no”

“Where the fuck am I?!”

“A place no one can hear you scream so don’t give me a reason to bring you back here.” If the man could see Obito’s face behind the mask he surely would’ve wet himself. But instead in a facade of bravery he hurls insults at Obito

“A fuckin coward relies on tricks. Be a man and show me your face.”

“My face is none of your business, as for tricks, I have none, just superior prowess.” Obito makes his voice thick and deep, tapping into Madara’s tone of intimidation. “If I see you bother her again it will be the last time you speak.”

His facade is broken and his throat bobs as he swallows his pride. “Fine, no pussy’s worth a fuckin death threat.”

“Good, now that we understand each other, you may go.”

Obito materializes the man back in the village while he teleports himself over to the tree outside of your home. He spots you walk up to your door and head inside. He yearned to be the one greeting you, welcoming you home, rather than outside in a tree. You should come home to his loving face, not a room of darkness.

Instead he waits till you are sound asleep to touch your hips where the other man had touched them. He replaced the man’s predatory touch with his loving one. You rolled into him, your subconscious nestling into his presence. He held you, almost falling asleep from your intoxicating pheromones as they lull him into a state of bliss. When he was sure you wouldn’t wake, he slipped his body out of your bed, replacing himself with a pillow as you searched for his comfort.

His thumb brushed over your forehead before he disappeared from your home. His beautiful peach ripe for the picking.

While masquerading around as Tobi, Obito couldn’t help but feel lonely and isolated. His thoughts of you began to consume his mind. Every opportunity he had to visit you, he took. He had disappeared so often that the Akatsuki almost forgot about him, not that they were complaining about taking a break from his annoying persona.

He noticed that you and Kakashi had become close. You were always assisting with his young team and visiting the cemetery together. Obito didn’t like this one bit. Kakashi would pluck his sweet peach from him. But he had to remind himself that Kakashi did keep you safe when you joined his team on missions. He took care of you when Obito could not. Though that didn’t dull his need to claim you, take you as his own. The feeling was intensifying, swelling every day.

He found himself hunting down every man who so much as looked at you. Kakashi was the only man who’s affection he let slide…even though he was the one who made him the most angry. Maybe it was his sentiment for his old friend. Maybe it was his fear of Kakashi’s skill. Either way, he let him be, not wanting to catch the copy ninja’s attention.

The remaining miscreants were hunted without mercy. Sometimes he couldn’t help the bloodshed that was inevitable. He was unable to restrain himself, when it came to his peach, there was no limit to what he would do to keep you safe. If they showed no remorse for their predatory stares and their greedy thoughts he would gladly hear them scream before stopping their hearts. A trail of blood secretly followed you but it was all in your delicate name.

He kept tabs on everything you did, especially when it came to your missions. He had to ensure your safety. Recently learning some of the details of one of your upcoming missions, he knew he’d have to keep special watch over you. It was a dangerous mission with Hidden Mist shinobi that had been under consideration to join his troupe. He couldn’t risk history repeating itself and no longer cared if Deidara or Itachi figured out what he had been doing with his spare time. Even though you would be joining Kakashi on this mission, it wasn’t a guarantee of your safety. He already knew that too well and he must protect his sweet peach at all costs.

He stalks your group as you travel through the woods, earning him a side eye from Kakashi who knew something was up but couldn’t quite pin his finger on who the lurker was. You asked him what was wrong but Kakashi refused to say anything, not wanting to tip off a watching Obito that he knew they were being followed.

Nice try Bakashi, but I already know your tricks.

Soon you came across your target. As predicted they put up quite a fight. You and Kakashi made a remarkable team fending them off. Your mission was to capture them for intel but the confrontation with the targets escalated to the point that elimination was deemed necessary. Obito was impressed by your strength. You took on three of them at once, knocking them down with your earth style shockwave. You manipulated the magnitude, where the earth would fracture, where it would cave in, and even where it would snap up. It was an impressive jutsu but it was not foolproof. He watched you closely, ready to intervene if it ever became too much. He watched you so closely that he hadn’t noticed the back up Mist shinobi that had been summoned. Kunai thrown from the trees flew at you as you went to weave more hand signs. You lept out of the way but still one caught your leg and the other grazed your thigh.

No.

Before Obito could even breathe he was in front of you, mangekyou in place, murder in the front of his mind. His stance was so protective, you didn’t doubt whose side this unknown stranger was on for a second. You simply pulled the kunai out of your leg allowing the blood to flow freely before going on the defensive.

When a second wave of backup came, you did what you could but you were overwhelmed. Kakashi and his team could not keep up with the stampede of attacks. The fear for your safety caused Obito to snap. He went on a homicidal rampage, annihilating the entire group with gruesome bloodshed, bringing both yourself and Kakashi to a halt.

In your stunned transe you didn’t catch the shinobi who snuck past your blind spot and stabbed you in the chest. When Obito turns to slice down the man he sees you clutching the kunai. In the span of a single heartbeat he dropped his weapon and pulled you into his void, bending over you in a state of panic.

He stole your body from the battlefield so quickly Kakashi almost missed it. Kakashi finished off the last of the Mist shinobi, making certain that the life of the man who attacked you would drain by his hand. He stood up in alarm asking Naruto and Sakura if they saw who the man was that took you away. Neither of them did and Kakashi instructed them to search the nearby area for you.

Obito’s hands shook over you as he went to remove the knife, holding pressure where it once had pricked you like a pincushion. You had no idea where you were or who this man was. You had just watched him slaughter nearly twenty men to protect you immediately before his abduction. You would have been terrified if you didn’t have a more pressing issue to tend to.

“My peach, how do I help?”

In your state of confusion you thought you misheard him. He must have you confused with someone else. You feel your consciousness begin to slip as you speak.

“Do you know…medical…ninjutsu?” it came out as a whisper.

“No” he whined

“Need…Sakura.”

“I can do that.”

Obito goes back to the scene of his crime. Bodies strewn all over the field. He felt accomplished to see them sprawled out and covered in red.

“Hey you, girl”

“Me?! What did you do with Y/N-sensei?!”

“She’s safe. You know medical ninjutsu?”

“Yeah”

“Meet me over there.”

She looked at the masked Obito with severe skepticism. He nodded at her and walked away, swirling out of sight as he did, stepping into his void to retrieve you.

He lifted you up, supporting under your shoulders and knees. He held you close, his entire body tense with worry but somehow gentle. He felt so warm as you were growing cold from your wounds. Despite the horrors you saw him commit, you laid your head against his chest as he carried you back outside to a sheltered spot behind a few trees and a bush where Sakura was waiting.

He laid you down and instructed Sakura to do what she had to while he eagerly watched. Sakura gave him sideways glances many times when she felt she could afford to risk the distraction. Who was this terrifying murderer? Why did he have a fixation with you? After twenty minutes Sakura lowered her hands, panting from the amount of chakra used.

“There.”

“She’s healed?”

She nods, “She’s healed. The major damage at least.”

“Thank you”

He scoops up your body and retreats back to his void as Skaura shouts at your disappearing figures.

You were out cold, resting for nearly a day when you woke up in a makeshift bed in a dark endless room filled with large gray blocks.

“Where am I?”

You scan your surroundings but it hurts too much to move. The mysterious masked man suddenly appears in the room causing you to jump, quickly followed by you grabbing your chest in pain.

“Careful Peach” he says as he rushes to your side, falling on his knees beside you.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” you inquire with eyes screwed shut in pain.

“Because you are my delicate Peach. I need to take care of you.”

“I’ve been taking care of myself just fine, thank you.” you say through clenched teeth, feeling the pain radiate over your entire chest. This man was clearly insane. Despite how he took care of you, you knew you were in danger.

“I wouldn’t call your current condition ‘just fine’, Peach.”

He feels your forehead, looking for signs of fever.

“Just who are you anyways?”

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you’re okay.”

“It does matter. And I need to go back to my team, let them know I’m okay.”

“The girl knows you’re okay, she’ll tell them.”

“Yes, but I need to get back to them. I need to-”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Disbelief filled you, yet the earlier bells of warning were officially verified.

He looks at you and shakes his head. “No.”

You look at him stunned, fear swelling. You look around the dark empty space starting to wonder where the exit was.

“You’re not going back. They can’t protect you. I know that now. You will stay with me. Here.”

Stunned into silence you look up at him. You open your mouth and close it a few times before you finally say to him, “You can’t keep me here.”

“I can and I will.”

Obito watches as terrified anger blossoms on your face. You stand up in spite of the pain, searching for an exit. Glancing over your shoulder at him as you move further and further away, frantically peering behind every gray pillar and block.

“You won’t be able to leave on your own.” he calls to you. “Only I can teleport you in and out of here.”

“And where is here?” You say, walking back towards him with a guise of bravery.

“My void”

Your jaw fell open. “Your what?”

“My void. Only I have access to it using Kamui.”

Comprehension made your eyes flood with tears. You were trapped. A madman who just slaughtered a fleet of shinobi to save you has trapped you in another dimension to ‘keep you safe.’ You looked up at him pleading, “I want to go home. Let me go home.”

“I can’t…it’s not safe.”

“But my home, my friends, the village…”

“They will be fine without you.”

Starting to realize he was serious, you begin to plead. “At least let me tell them where I have gone. That way they don’t come looking for me. Let me say goodbye.”

“Peach, I can’t risk you running away. I can’t risk you getting hurt.” He reaches out to pet your hair and you shy away from his touch.

The tears leak down your cheeks, feeling helpless. You walk away and sit down, turning away from the masked man, hugging your knees to your chest and resting your head against the tops of your knee caps.

Obito, feeling pain at seeing you so sad walks up and puts a hand on your shoulder, “It has to be this way Peach, I’m sorry.”

He leaves you alone to sulk. You would be fine. You would grow to accept things the way that they are. You would grow to love him in spite of how it started. It was all going to be okay.

When he left in a swirl you wept. You allowed your mind to panic and wander to all the terrifying possibilities. What was he going to do with you? Why was he obsessed with you? How were you going to get out of this?

The more your mind reeled the quieter your tears became. Eventually you collapsed back onto the ashen floor. As you lay there, staring up at the black ceiling of his void, exhaustion and sadness ebb you to sleep.

You wake up the next day to find a large chunk of your stuff from your home was suddenly in the void. He had made the effort to move your belongings to you, even bringing many of your most cherished items such as your favorite clothes, your favorite mug, the blanket you sleep with every night, and your photos of Obito and Rin.

How did this man know these would be the items you’d want most? How long had he been following you? You felt a shiver roll down your spine.

What you presume to be hours later, the masked man returns to check on you. He’s more timid than he was before. Approaching you carefully.

“Thank you” you say, looking at the floor, “for bringing me some of my stuff. I’m still pissed, and I’m not staying here, but I appreciate the effort.” You were terrified but you didn’t want him to know that. You were going to find a way out of this. You just had to figure out how to get out of this damned dimension first.

If only you could see the smile below his mask. Overwhelmed by how cute you are he pulls you into a hug. You’re stiff with terror but you feel his strong torso pushed up against your own and you can’t help the little part of you that is left breathless. It feels familiar and warm but you can’t place why.

“I love you Peach.” he says as he holds you in his arms, laying his head on top of your head. He was insane. You reply to him with a shaking voice,

“If you loved me you’d give me some windows instead of dreary slate abyss. I can’t even tell what time of day it is.”

“Sorry, voids don’t work that way, Peach.”

“Sorry, I guess being abducted is new to me.” you forced the sass into your tone. You were petrified but you needed a way out of here. You figured maybe you could manipulate his affection for you.

Obito winces at the word abduction. He prefers to think of it as protection

“What? You didn’t think I’d be okay with this, did you? That is the title of what this is.” You weren’t sure where this bravery came from but he was buying it.

“At least I’m not trying to poison you against your own clan, or acting as the architect to kill your childhood crush.” he said with a venom that made you believe he was speaking from experience but you were too focused on your own situation to care. Your false bravery turned into false anger.

“Sorry to steal the opportunity away from you but I don’t have much in the way of a clan and my childhood crush is already dead.”

His face snapped and locked onto yours. “What did you say?”

“I’m not repeating myself, I know you heard me the first time.”

You watched as his throat bobbed beneath his black mask. Why did that impact him so much? Who was this guy anyways? He acted like he had known you your whole life yet you only know him as a mask and tuft of hair.

“Who are you?”

He turned and walked away from you, “Someone long dead to you”

Well that didn’t answer any questions. If anything it brought up more.

“Well if you won’t tell me who you are, then tell me what to call you.”

“Currently the world knows me as Tobi.”’

“Do you want me to call you Tobi then?”

“No…”

“Then what do I call you?”

He paused. “I guess Tobi is fine.”

“Okay, well Tobi, I want to go home. I am not spending my life tucked inside this vault.”

“That’s out of the question.”

You inhale deeply. Acting skills front and center. “Then I guess my safety isn’t guaranteed.”

He glanced over, tilting his head, giving you a questioning look.

“Your top priority is my safety. I can think of a lot of ways to make myself unsafe all alone here in this little void of yours,” You taunt him with your words as your eyes dart around the room.

His blood boiled over. Were you really suggesting what he thought you were? And over some dumb sunlight?! His hands twitched by his side.

“Tobi, if you intend for this” you say pointing around the void, “to be the rest of my life, it will be a short one because I’m not doing it.” you cross your arms. Of course you weren’t actually suicidal but you were going to say anything to better your circumstances. He may be your psychotic captor but he seemed to have a weakness for your well being and you were going to pull at that thread till he unraveled.

He heaved a heavy sigh before grumbling. “Give me a day to figure it out.”

“And how will I know if it's been a day?! I can’t tell time without the sun or so much as a frickin watch!”

The theatrics were working.

“I’m sorry Peach, I’ll be back.”

He fled from the void with his tail between his legs. You let out a huge breath. How you were able to pull that stunt off was beyond you. Desperation breeds its own strength. You hoped with all your might when he came back it was to get you out of his little dimension.

You waited, having absolutely nothing to do. No books, no games, no radio, no food, no beverage…nothing.

You mind tortured you with thoughts. You wondered how everyone was back home, rejecting the demons of your subconscious telling you that you may never see them again.

I will find a way out of this.

You strolled around checking out what was behind all the gray boxes. Surprise, it was more gray boxes. You climbed each one, beginning to count them as you went. You were usually a very ambitious person but there was nothing to do. You began playing with your jutsu to see if it would work in a void. Update: it does. You brought an entire kilometer to rubble just for fun and treaded up the path you created to get some exercise. Then you jumped block to block, back to your little makeshift bedroom waiting for Tobi. Eventually you got tired so you made yourself ready for bed hoping that when you woke up he would be back with updated living arrangements.

*******************************************************

You turn over as you stir and nuzzle into a hand that is softly petting your hair.

“Good Morning Peach”

You stiffen before your eyes dart up to his. Mask of bravery back in place, you greet him. “Good morning Tobi.” He winces. He hates how the false moniker sounds coming from your mouth.

“I see you started destroying my void.”

“I was bored so I decided to train.”

A hearty chuckle left his throat. “I made arrangements but please understand I will not sound or behave like myself where we are going.”

“And why is that?”

“You will see eventually.”

“Oh boy, so glad you enlightened me.” you lay the sarcasm thick and it only makes him laugh more. Good, he finds you charming. You can work with this.

“I also want to warn you, we will be among rogue shinobi.”

“So your idea of keeping me safe is to have me live with the very people that I’ve been hunting. The very same people who want to kill me and my friends?”

“Yes, If you are among us, no one will bother you. If you remained in the village, you would be subject to their…missions.”

“Seems like stupid logic if you ask me.”

“Please trust me.”

“I don’t, but I don’t have a choice either.”

“At least you’re not dumb”

“Did you think I was?”

“Not even for a second.”

He grabbed your hand with his strong possessive one. Something about the way your palm fit in his felt right. You weren’t sure why but that was the signal your brain sent your hand when you gripped it tighter. A psychopath whose hand you were holding. Great, you’ve completely lost your marbles a mere three days into captivity.

Next thing you knew you could smell the air of the earth again, you could see the shadows left by the sun, happiness washed over you in a visible way and Tobi’s fingers slid between yours upon seeing your reaction. He pulled you into another hug, he seems to always be hugging you. It’s like he’s forcing you to get used to him. “I will be this person when we are alone. I will be another when the others are around. You understand?”

You nod your head worried about what he could possibly mean? What kind of a monster is he around this gang of thugs that he needs to warn you?

He removes his hand from yours and places it between your shoulder blades pushing you towards a cavern. A man with orange hair, purple eyes and many piercings looks you up and down as you enter.

“Tobi, this is her?”

“Yes Pain! This is the hostage I spoke about!” His voice was comically high pitched and he sounded like a child. You tried your hardest not to react but it was just so different from what you were expecting.

“Put her in the dungeon.”

“Well sir, remember I requested she stay in my room, sir?!”

“Yes but she’s a hostage, who will stop her from escaping?”

“Do you really think she’s dumb enough to try and leave the hideout of the Akatsuki?”

Your face went pale as you realized just who you had been dealing with this whole time. They were supposed to wear black cloaks with red clouds. You hadn’t seen Tobi wear his once! Always dressed in all black with sandles. But your reaction built a convincing case. The man named Pain accepted your fear as enough of a restraint. He didn’t question why it would be Tobi’s room but some blonde man eyed you hungirly and told Pain Tobi was probably keeping you in his room to finally lose his virginity.

Once behind his door, he modulated his voice back to normal.

“What the hell was that?” you asked more honestly than you intended.

“What? You’ve never seen an act before?”

“Well of course. But why do you make yourself seem like a fool?”

“So no one will suspect.”

“Suspect what?”

“Don’t worry about it. Here.” Tobi swirls you back into his void and he starts gathering your things. After a second you begin to copy him and he brings you both back to his room in the Akatsuki hideout. You start to find nooks and crannies to store your things leaving only one remaining item in your hands. He watches you as you look down on your photos of your friends. Eyes lingering over the one of you and Obito before you tuck them away with mist in your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“No, but…thank you…for bringing the photos. I don’t know how you knew but I appreciate it.”

Tobi pulled you into another hug. You were unsure why he cared so much and why you kept letting him hug you. Maybe it was cause compared to your new roommates he suddenly seems less scary. To his credit this hug felt nice. Plus, since it seems like he was going to be your only companion for a while, you decided to tolerate it.

He unfurled the hug and began tugging at your shirt. Lifting the hem above your neck, exposing your bare breasts.

“Hey!”

He disregarded your complaint and touched where your stab wound had been. “How does it feel?”

“It’s fine.” You say blushing while you cover your bosom. “May you please let go of my shirt now?”

“Huh? Oh, of course. Sorry Peach.” He drops your shirt and backs away swiftly almost as if he was embarrassed. He seemed a little more humane today so you decided to press your luck and scout out your surroundings.

“Can we go outside? I’d appreciate some sun and maybe some real food”

He gives you a piercing stare out of the eye hole of his mask. “Stay by my side. I know you are strong but however strong you think you are, I am stronger.”

You gulp remembering the massacre you witnessed three days ago.

“I will be your protector. No one will hurt you ever again.” he lifted your chin so you’d look up at his eye through the swirling mask. “I promise.”

“I believe you…”

You see his eye crease when you speak. He was happy. That’s good. Keep him happy and it will give you openings to escape…though you weren’t sure outrunning him would be possible given his tricky teleportation ability.

You spend the afternoon with him, gathering intel and acting flirty, playing along with his advances. When he grabbed your hand, you laced your fingers. When he reached for your hip, you reached for his. When he hugged you, you draped your arms around his neck. You play into his affection for you, keeping him happy, earning his trust and lowering his guard. If I keep this up, captivity will be bearable. But you also feared that if you acted a little too well, you may fall for your own lies. Holding him today felt too easy given your desperate situation. Was it a genjutsu perhaps?

Nighttime came and instead of parading you past the other members of the Akatsuki who were home between missions, he teleported you both straight to his chambers. You get ready for bed and realize you do not have a bed of your own. It was still in the void. Would he send you to spend the nights in the void? He cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I would feel safest if you shared the bed with me.” he said looking down. “You can sleep on the opposite side of the bed if you would like but I don’t want an enemy who finds the hideout to get to you before I wake.”

You swallow nervously. You know he loves you. That much is obvious but you are searching for signs that he might try to take advantage of you while you’re unconscious. You think back to earlier when he was checking your wound. He didn’t seem to register that he had exposed your breasts for his pleasure. It was almost like your anatomy was irrelevant, only your well being consumed his thoughts. You chose to believe he will be respectful and so you agree.

“Pick whichever side you want. I’ll be back when I’m done.” He grabs a fresh pair of pants and heads to the bathroom. When the door is snapped shut you stand there looking at the bed. You’ve never chosen a side of the bed before. You’ve never been in a situation where you had to. You paced around the mattress like it was the most daunting choice you ever had to make. It’s not like this was a long term decision. You’d escape or convince him to let you go soon enough. So why were you weighing your options so carefully?

Eventually you decide to choose the side closest to the window and give him the side closest to the door. You were much more afraid of his fellow gang members coming in with less than pure intentions than you were of outside shinobi coming for the blood of the Akatsuki.

Just as you finally slip between the sheets, Tobi comes out of the bathroom with only a pair of black stretch sweatpants on. Your eyes drink up his figure. His body was half white as if made up of false materials but it moved like it was his real body. He was extremely toned, swollen pecs and chiseled abs cut across his upper body causing a little drool to pool in the corner of your mouth. Most surprisingly, he also took off his mask and below you saw battle torn skin that etched across the right side of a face that was intimidating, yet soft and familiar. His eyes catch you staring and he quickly looks down removing some of the intimidation you felt.

He scratches the back of his neck. “I haven’t shown my face to anyone in years. I’m sorry if it scares you. I just can’t always sleep in the mask.”

“No, it’s fine” you say in a hoarse voice. Your throat had suddenly gone dry. “It’s not scary.”

It wasn’t but what did scare you was the thoughts of what epic battle had mangled him to this degree only for him to survive and still be as strong as he is. You suddenly wondered if he was invincible and if escape would ever be possible.

He took his position on the vacant side of the bed, smiling that you left him by the door. He knew exactly why you chose the side you did. He turned to face you from under the covers.

“Goodnight Peach.”

“Goodnight Tobi.”

You see him wince as you say his name. You knew he wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t want you calling him by that name. He turns over and extinguishes the candle letting darkness blanket the room as you drift to sleep with surprising ease. Your body’s alarm, shockingly low given your current residence.

*******************************************************

Sunlight seeps into the room as Obito wakes up. He suddenly realizes how warm he is and it only took a few more blinks of his groggy eyes to realize why. You had traveled over to his side of the bed last night and latched onto him. He smiled, feeling his chest fill with joy. He petted your hair. You were his. You didn’t know it yet, but you were. In a few short days not only were you almost completely healed from your recent battle but you were falling for him too. Hugging him, holding his hand, cuddling in bed, Obito had never experienced human touch like this before but he was sure it didn’t always feel this right.

He tries waking you but is met with grumpy groans and you bury yourself deeper into his chest. He kisses the top of your head as your little fists cling to him tight. He gave up on trying to wake you and let you ride out your sleep, enjoying the cuddles that were sure to cease as soon as you came to.

Sure enough, nearly an hour later he hears you sharply inhale as you withdraw from him. You quickly sit up and face the window as he casually stretches and gets up.

“Good Morning” he yawns feeling smug and powerful

“Morning” you say as you adjust your messy bun, trying to seem casual as you hide your embarrassment that you were needily cuddling with your kidnapper.

You both get ready for the day, you donning a set of tactical clothes for no reason other than it was what you were used to and him, his mask and Akatsuki gear, no longer hiding the cloak now that you knew his occupation. He grabs your hip and teleports you to a tea shop for breakfast.

You live out a week in this manner. Spending all your free time together. Occasionally having run-ins with the other Akatsuki members. They eye you in a bone chilling way. You are certain they are calculating how to enter into your room without awakening Tobi. They are nothing but disrespectful towards him, but he gives as good as he gets. You especially have to hone your acting skills to not laugh when Tobi says something ignorant and rude in his comedic tone, earning the anger of who you now know is his partner Deidara.

One thing that bothers you the most is the ever watchful eyes of the mass murderer Itachi Uchiha. He is always polite and quiet and would seemingly be the nicest of the members if not for his reputation for slaughtering his entire clan. It’s always the quiet ones. You didn’t like how he would stare at you. After your last run in with him and Kisame, you were sure they were looking for retribution. You decide to bring this up to Tobi as he gets in bed.

“Tobi,” he winces “I know you said I’d be safe here among the other members but I recently fought against Itachi and Kisame. I don’t like how the Uchiha looks at me. I feel like he’s looking for payback.”

“He’s not.”

You were annoyed at how quickly his dismissed you. His concern for your safety was then entire reason for your current predicament.

“How do you know that?”

“Cause I know him.”

“So you should know what he did.”

“I do.”

“And you trust him?”

“With my life.”

“How can you say that? He doesn’t even know your true identity?”

You are gobsmacked by the wild claim Tobi is making. He killed his entire bloodline and Tobi was okay with that. It was moments like this that reminded you that Tobi was a murderer, not the lovable goof that he had been masquerading around as.

“Itachi is the only person walking this earth who knows my true identity.”

Your jaw drops open.

“But you said that no one had seen your face…”

“It’s true, he does not know my face but he knows my identity.” You were at a loss. “One day I will enlighten you on the events of that night but know this, of every person here, Itachi is the one you can trust the most to keep you safe. If anything happens to me, he is entrusted with your safety.”

The thought terrified you. He was out of his mind. You saw what Itachi did to Kakashi first hand. You saw the morning after the Uchiha massacre. He was not to be trusted. “Tobi, no…”

His nose twitches and that was the last straw. “Well if you hate the name Tobi so much then why do you go by it!” your emotions had been high strung for over a week and you were snapping, boldly yelling at your captor.

“I don’t hate the name. I just hate when you say it.”

“What the fuck does that mean?!”

“Cause it feels wrong to hear you call me by something other than my name.”

“There’s just no winning with you. I can’t call you by your real name cause it’s some big secret that only a serial killer knows and oh yeah, apparently that same psychopath inherits me if you die!”

You cross your arms over your chest, huffing in frustration. You weren’t even sure why it bothered you so much. This is a temporary situation. You were kidnapped. You were going to escape. If Tobi dies then it will mean you’re finally free. You just have to find a way to sneak out of this hideout and you could finally go home.

“He’s the only one I can trust to guard you with his life.”

You roll your eyes, huffing once more before pursing your lips. “Why? I need to know, Tobi. Why?”

He looks down and shrinks in your gaze. “Because only he knows what it’s like to love as an Uchiha.”

You felt the wind knocked out of you. Was he saying what you think he is?

“You’re a…?”

“Yes.”

“But Itachi…”

“...had help.”

Your hand flys to your mouth covering it in shock.

He finally looks up at you. “Y/N, it’s not what you think it is. I can explain.”

You feel fear chill your entire body and you see on his face how upset he is that you are more afraid of him than ever. He rushes towards you and gets on his knees begging and pleading, “please allow me to explain.”

“Your clan…you helped him murder…all those people.” you said it robotically. You begin to disassociate from the conversation, lost in thought till you circled around to the realization that no one talked about a missing body among the corpses. The only survivor was Saskue. There was no one else left unaccounted for among the names of the fallen brethren. So who was Tobi?

“Tobi, if you’re an Uchiha, then who are you?”

His face flushed to a cherry red. Despite the horrifying details he just shared, for the first time you felt you had the upper hand in your captivity. Why was he so afraid to tell you? He grabbed both your hands, rubbing his thumbs along your knuckles.

Your eyes bore into him anxiously waiting for an answer.

“It’s me.”

You remained silent, your stern expression waiting for clarification.

“Obito”

Your hands went limp in his hold. Every tense muscle relaxed as your heart leapt to your throat getting your hopes up. Then after a moment you began shaking and crying with anger.

“That’s not funny, Tobi.” You growled at him in quiet rage. “Obito died over a decade ago. Kakashi and Rin saw it happen. None of us were the same after. I visit his grave every day I’m in the village. But I’m sure you knew that already, didn't you?” You were seeing red. He had been stalking you. This was all a ruse to get you to fall for him. You didn’t care for your safety at this moment, even after discovering he was a part of one of the most heinous crimes in the history of the Leaf, you were going to knock sense into this liar if it was the last thing you ever did.

“Y/N, it’s me. It’s really me.” He grabs your photo of him and holds it by his face. “See?”

You can’t see the resemblance cause your eyes are too full of tears.

“Take your hands off that photo! Don’t touch it!”

“Y/N, think about it.” He pleads with you, “Kakashi has a sharingan in his left eye. My left eye is missing. Obito was crushed under a boulder on his right side. Look at my right side! It looks like this.” he gestured to the Hashirama cells, “I was rescued, Y/N. Madara found me. I survived.”

You had to admit that it made sense except for the last part.

“Madara is dead.”

“He is now, but he wasn’t at the time. He became my master after the accident, after I healed, after Rin…”

His voice cracked at the last word. It was a sobering sound causing your anger to break.

“...Obito?”

He swallowed heavily, “Yes”

You believed him….

The wave of emotion that crashed over you knocked you to your knees. You fell to the ground sobbing. The boy you had loved all your life was before you, taking care of you, alive and well. A monster who had done horrendous things but he was alive. The realization broke your mind. Obito joined you on the floor, holding you as you cried in his arms.

“Why did you never come back? All of us, we needed you. I-I needed you.”

“I can’t tell you that Peach. But I’m here now. I won’t leave you.”

Your hands grabbed at him like he would disappear at any given moment. One arm wrapping around his back, the other cradling his head as you hyperventilate in his arms.

He nuzzles into the curve of your neck as he professes, “I love you Peach.”

You wanted to say it back but talking wasn’t an option. You were too overcome with emotion.

He helped you up to standing and laid you down on the bed. He got in next to you and held you in his arms till your cries quieted. His large palm stroking over your back, comforting you as your mind came to grips with the fact that he was very much alive and very much in love with you the way you were in love with him.

Occasionally as you cried, he’d kiss your cheek or your temple. Suddenly all the terrifying things you’d witnessed over the past ten days were no longer so terrifying. He stalked you cause he loved you. He murdered all those shinobi to protect you. He kidnapped you cause he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. The alarms that he been blaring in your head all turned quiet.

Your breathing began to return to normal and you pulled away to look at Obito squarely in the face, leaving no room for misinterpretation. You needed him to know your intentions.

You grabbed both sides of his face and leaned in for a kiss. He quickly pulled you into his body as tightly as he could, squishing you into his chest, nearly breaking your ribs with want. You both inhaled deeply as your lips locked onto each other. You opened your mouth, seeking to deepen the kiss. It was your first one after all, you wanted to make it good.

You toss your leg over his hip, grinding into him as one of his hands lowered to stroke your thigh and ass cheek. You moan into his mouth, him returning your sounds of affection into your own. The stroking of your leg became rough as his tough hands grip into the flesh of your behind. Your breathing heavy and ragged as your arousal increases.

Eventually he falls to his back as you straddle him, hunching over to feast on his mouth while you continue to roll your hips against his pants. You were in the most heated and only kiss of your life and you were sure for Obito it was the same. His deep groans as you dry humped his boner concealed inside his sweatpants made your heart flutter with excitement. Everything that had been stolen from you as an adolescent was right beneath you, in your arms and between your legs.

Obito released your lips to lean his head back with a particularly loud moan echoing out of him causing Deidera to pound against the wall. “Just cause I knew you were going to fuck her doesn’t mean I need to hear it you fucking virgins!”

You laugh centimeters from his face before he flips you onto the bed so he is hovering over your panting silhouette. Lashes fluttering as you salivate from the way his strong presence looms over you.

“Obito, I…” He kisses you slow and deep, not letting you speak. You break the kiss to finish your sentence. “I love you.”

He latches onto your lips again before speaking into your mouth, “I love you too.”

You wrap both of your legs around him, lifting yourself up to rut into him when he finally leans back on his knees to rip down your pajama pants, letting your legs fall to each side, exposing your soft flesh, ready and waiting to be sullied with unholy deeds. He sinks down, positioning himself between your legs. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him with curious interest.

He kisses and sucks on your inner thighs. He releases the pliable flesh with a pop and smiles at his artwork. Of course he’d leave a mark the first chance he got. You were his after all.

He worked his way to your center, licking a stripe up your sex before latching over your little bundle of nerves. He began to suck on it as if hoping to separate it from your body. He licked the small nub gently between vicious suckling, driving you wild and causing you to squirm. Your hand shot down to rest in his hair as you furrowed your brows and tilted your hips up into his chin, soaking his face in your secretions. Desperate need consuming your body.

He came up for air and crawled back up over you to get another one of your sweet kisses, before sinking his fingers into your tight virgin cunt. You whimper into his lips. He drags his fingers in and out of you causing you to clench around them. You make small cries as you feel him attempting to stretch you, readying you for his intrusion.

Your hand reached for him, looking to sink beneath his pants to stroke what you desired. He propped himself up on his elbow next to you while his hand reached between your legs. You slipped between his abdominals and his waistband, fingers gliding around his thick base before closing around it and stroking upwards. Obito shuddered at your touch, hips instinctively thrusting towards you. Your hand firmly set around him, stroking up and down, you twisted towards his face to continue kissing him. The sloppy exchange continuing while you worked between each other’s legs. The heat radiated off of your bodies as your lust filled every pore. You pull back, a trail of spit connecting your mouths as you speak.

“I’m ready.”

Obito withdrew his fingers as he leaned away. He sucked his fingers clean as he stood up next to the bed. He dropped his pants so that they pooled around his ankles. He stepped out of the fabric and crawled back on the bed over you.

He gently glided his barren length over your folds, lubricating himself in your sopping wet juices. His tip lightly poked at your swollen bud causing your breath to hitch. He gives you a nod signaling he’s going in. He sinks just the tip in and your arms tighten around him in response.

“Are you okay?”

You look up into his eyes and nod. “Mhm”

He begins to push inwards. You gasp at the stretch. It was painful but soon it shifted into a pleasurable sensation.

“Are you still okay?”

You bit your lower lip as you nod in agreement. He reached down. He wanted to be the one biting your lip. Connecting his with yours once more, his tongue swirled with passion as he stroked in and out of you slowly, allowing you to turn into a puddle under him. You cry into his mouth as you feel your walls constrict around him. You had never felt anything quite like it. Every part of you was satisfied in this position. Legs wrapped around his waist, lips connected with his, sharing the air you breathed, and the feeling of him buried in you. It was love in its purest sense.

His soft slow romantic strokes began to give way as he realized how good the friction felt. Your tight walls wrapped around him so well, squeezing him in a way he could have never even dreamt about. You were perfection itself and it was making him ravenous.

He rolled his hips into you till they slapped against your rear. You make little sounds in response to the connection. It encourages him so he continues to roll. You keep mewling with each stroke. It is an anthem to his heart and he wants to hear it played louder. He begins slamming into you. You want to take it and please him but it’s becoming too much.

You see his eyes gloss over. He’s consumed with the unfamiliar sensation. He flips you onto your stomach. He straddles you with his knees on either side of your legs, pinning them together. He thrusts up and in as you lay down flat. He slams his palm down on your cheek and you make a small grunt upon impact. You hear him smirk.”tch” He wants to do that again.

You grunt a second time. He sits back on his heels and pulls your perfect body up off the bed and sits you down on his erection. Back facing him, he snakes his hands around your front and under your shirt. His muscular arms lift you up and down on him as you sing out little sounds of pleasure.

“That’s it baby. You’re doing such a good job.”

You completely exhale as he whispers praise into your ear. Your heart thundering at a wild pace as one hand grabs on top of his hand that has a bruising grip on your chest and the other reaches back to grab him behind his head.

He bends forward to lay light kisses along your neck and into the curve of your shoulder. You were his every desire. All the dangerous things he was capable of were only out of love for you. He would murder hordes of shinobi, tame tailed beasts, and level entire cities in your honor. He would do anything to live this moment on repeat for the rest of his life.

You twist in his arms, politely asking to look upon his face. He sits back as he lifts you off of him. You turn around on your knees and straddle his lap, facing him as he tugs at your hem, gently lifting the fabric over your head and tossing it to a dark corner of the room.

He hunches down to taste your perky peaks. His tongue dragging along each nub before his lips close around it with a gentle suckle. Your head lulls backwards as you cry out blissfully, allowing the new sensations to overwhelm your mind. Obito rocks your body up and down along his shaft but he doesn’t think he will be able to hold out much longer.

He gingerly lays you down on your back, propping your legs open with his arms as he leans down, pushing his chest into yours. You feel your flexibility being tested as he sinks into you and your eyes widen at how deep he went. He begins to stroke, craving the warmth of the fast friction generated by his thrusts. He allows his sack to sway into your rear, hitting it with a satisfying clap at each impact. Your face begins to twist with pleasure. Your rhythmic cries calling to him like a siren's song.

He leans down and presses his lips into yours, allowing your moans to reverberate around the inside of his mouth. He nears his climax as you reach yours. Releasing together in loving harmony. He slowly pumps into you, draining the seed from his length into your loving walls that graciously drink it in.

Your doting eyes never leave his face. You realize you are hopelessly bound to him. You would never escape your captivity, nor did you want to. Both of you have surrendered to the other. Your head collapses onto the pillow and he licks one last stripe up your neck before falling next to you and kissing your jaw. His strong finger tugs at your chin, turning you to him so he may continue to adorn your lips with kisses.

Your faces would fold into each other's necks as your bodies tangled together under the covers. The man who kidnapped you, now your most valued treasure. He would possessively hold his delicate little peach every night from henceforth and you would never speak of going home ever again because now that Obito lay with you, you were home. You allow your eyes to close and your heart to go still as you fall into a deep slumber in his arms.

Home…

Masterlist

#obito x reader #obito uchiha #obito is daddy #obito smut #tobi fan fiction #daddy tobi #tobi simp #tobi x reader #tobi smut #uchiha fan fiction #uchiha smut #uchiha obito #yandere #obito x you #yandere obito

195 notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 2 months

Note

Hello!! I just started reading your works recently and I think it's safe to say that I have fallen in love with them <3 the way you write both the cod guys and the reader feels so real and poetic that I just, eat it up everytime. I read your Barbarian! König post and it got me thinking about something.

König and Ghost are kinda opposites when it comes to their darlings. König likes darlings fiesty and snippy but Ghost likes his darlings as more agreeable or soft but not weak, ykwim??

And it got me thinking about Barbarian! Ghost. Whereas König got his darling bc he killed her husband and she was there when it happened, I see Ghost as going to take one girl originally but then the darling steps in front of said girl and says to take her instead, saving the girl and sacrificing herself. Idk but I think he would be very attracted to that, and unlike König who gently picks you up and puts you upon his horse while you kick and bite him, Ghost grabs you and lays you stomach first against his horse harshly, keeping a sturdy hand on your back as he rides away.

Sorry if this is weird or ooc!! But it was just a thought that came to me!

Oh Barbarian!Ghost would be sooo disinterested on the outside. He only saves her ass discreetly, but saves it more than enough times to spark her curiosity.

Why does he come to her rescue and then abandons her to her own devices?

CW: Minor violence (bruises), noncon groping, fear of SA, blood, cuddling & snuggling, Ghost being a complex PTSD weirdo who has a fascination towards bones.

It’s actually she who approaches him first, not the other way around. He allows her to seek protection by staying near him and thus get the others off her back: he might even throw her a piece of roasted lamb as if she were some stray cat, lurking about his campfire. But there’s not much more than that on offer for her: only a few sideways glances that tell her he regards her mostly as a nuisance and a liability, accompanied by a few scrap bones that luckily have some meat and fat still on them.

He shows her how to snap the bigger ones in half to get to the life saving marrow, and that’s when she realizes he regards her a bit dumb, some pretty royal girl who doesn’t know how to survive without a man.

And who’s to blame for all that? Clever men who have forced her to learn poetry and songs, pluck chords and recite philosophers from memory. No one ever even taught her how to ride a horse, the only things she can do is chat about the latest political turns and whether it’s old-fashioned to style your hair Southern style.

Now she’s supposed to strike a conversation with a barbarian who dresses in furs and wool, who collects the knuckles of his fallen enemies and looks at her like she’s the uncivilized one here. He probably plays dice with those bones, and she’s never seen him force a woman under him; she’s never seen him take a woman at all.

He’s probably half dead already, some ghoul raised to ravage this earth. But everytime she gets drooled over or spat upon, groped or squeezed or slapped on the soft flesh of her butt, she makes her way to him and only him. To become one with the shadows too, or to disappear, perhaps.

He gives her his biggest, thickest pelt to wrap around her shoulders, to cover those assets that make these wartorn men so crazy. Or then he doesn’t want to find her frozen to death at dawn... Dark, vast eyes look at her in the early morning fog, up from above from the highest heights, as if asking why she overslept again.

A rabbit is thrown at her feet, but she doesn’t know what to do with it: she knows he wants her to skin it, yes, but how? Even with the knife he provides her, she can only stare at the soft creature helplessly, lick her dry, creaky lips until he sighs and comes to wrench the blade away, taking the hare before it turns too stiff.

She’s almost certain he’s not even interested in women until one day, someone goes a bit too far and grabs a handful of her to squeeze. The spitting, jerking and screaming turn into a whole fistfight until she gets drawn to her knees by her hair. He’s about to rip her scalp off, of that she is sure from how much it burns.

Tears stream down her face from pure pain alone, but this time, the bone marrow man doesn’t only save her. He walks to the scene like a shadow, yanks her gropers head back, and slits his throat right then and there. The others take a few steps back, mist rises from their gaping mouths as he lets go of the bleeding slump, looking at the pulsing, open vein as if he intends to drink from it. But it seems he only wanted to confirm that the dead stay dead because his interest in this man fades as quickly as it was aroused.

She rises to her feet, only to get swept off them as he dives for her hips and raises her to a crude carry, mainly meant for wheat sacks and sheep.

With a wide palm resting on her butt, he hauls her back to his fire, further away from the open field, and she doesn’t dare to utter a word. He doesn’t squeeze her, he doesn’t grope or slap or force her, but he does throw the fur away from her shoulders to check her body for bruises. She stays silent for the whole inspection as he moves her joints and limbs to check if anything’s broken, carefully like she indeed was only a little lamb. Brushes the pads of his fingers across the darkening spots that tell a story of violence, and it makes her shiver.

They’re just bruises, but they’re also evidence that her body is not her own anymore. Still, this clinical inspection feels far more intimate and warm than the rough hands and demanding mouths from before: it’s not just the intention behind the touch, it’s his presence.

You’ve never felt so thoroughly seen.

A low rumble rises in agreement to you taking his probing so well, and you kind of wish he would hold you tonight.

Just… Hold you.

When he withdraws, content with finding you relatively intact after the attempted assault, you grab his wrist. His head snaps back instantly, but he doesn’t pry himself away from your insolent little fingers. If anything, he’s curious.

You don’t know his words, and he doesn’t know yours, so you decide it’s best not to speak at all.

Pulling his palm back, you bring it to your hip, then further up to your waist, trying to make it clear that it’s only closeness and body warmth you seek. You leave it there, and it stays there, out of its own free will. A thumb brushes over your ribs, explorative. His eyes travel, they move down the line of your neck and try to decide what you might want from him, but then you see the fathomless depths he’s been hiding. His eyes come alive, and there’s such darkness there, an unquenchable well of want that shoots fear straight down your stomach.

You were wrong about him, so wrong…

He’s not disinterested, he’s just been holding back a tide as if it’s no big deal to fight back the very gods on his own.

His palm feels like fire, but he doesn’t move, only battles with his demons for a while. You lie there before him, feeling utterly idiotic for thinking he’s different from the rest of the men.

But then… The fur gets drawn over your half naked body. Slowly, deliberately. He’s not reverent: he only knows the consequences of his actions, and this is a path he does not wish to take.

It doesn’t prevent him from laying himself down to sleep next to you, however.

It doesn’t prevent you from slowly reaching an arm around him, the rigid form that slowly, so slowly turns lax. You risk to curl against him: not safe, only warm. A stray royal cat and a ghoul who collects bones, you think, but then the ghoul sighs and turns. You should feel rejected from the way he presents his back to you, but you suspect that it has something to do with him coming alive downstairs.

And you cling to him.

He doesn’t rip you off of him as you slip a hand under his arm and bend against him, like a river otter who just found a fat clam. His solemn breaths lull you to sleep, and he stays still for you: all night until the birds start to sing and the sun warms your face, the whole heap of you two.

Like a big pile of snow, melting on a summer’s day…

#writing for Ghost is like #trying to start an engine that was forgotten outside for the whole fucking winter ://

180 notes · View notes

mitchellpete · 8 months

Text

KINKTOBER 2023

My first Kinktober and first ever writing challenge! (Wish me luck..) But I’m super excited to see you guys request! Kinks from this list, which was super intimidating (lol). First time I realize English not being my first language is kind of a nuisance because some of those I would have absolutely no clue how to write.. BUT ALAS. I picked these out and hope that they’re fun. Also hope you guys don’t mind that I filled one of them out already but I figured since I’m already writing it for an old request..

Will be updating this as slots get filled, so request away!

Characters I write for are here (plus Iceman who I kind of want to start writing for), but I’m very flexible so if you want to ask about any other characters, please do!

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

Day 1 - Overstimulation

↳ Tom “Iceman” Kazansky | Top Gun

Day 2 - Public

↳ Ethan Hunt | Mission: Impossible

Day 3 - 69

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 4 - Thigh riding

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 5 - Spanking

↳ Tom “Iceman” Kazansky | Top Gun

Day 6 - Cockwarming

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 7 - Blindfold

↳ Vincent | Collateral

Day 8 - Size

↳ Tom “Iceman” Kazansky | Top Gun

Day 9 - Praise

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 10 - Handjob

↳ Cole Trickle | Days of Thunder

Day 11 - Cunnilungus

↳ Ethan Hunt | Mission: Impossible

Day 12 - Voyeurism

↳ Tom “Iceman” Kazansky & Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun

Day 13 - Hate sex

↳ Tom “Iceman” Kazansky | Top Gun

Day 14 - Virginity

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun

Day 15 - Dirty talk

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 16 - Begging

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun

Day 17 - Edging

↳ Ethan Hunt | Mission: Impossible

Day 18 - Mirror sex

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 19 - Orgasm denial

↳ Vincent | Collateral

Day 20 - Face sitting

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 21 - Deepthroating

↳ Tom “Iceman” Kazansky | Top Gun

Day 22 - Creampie

↳ Tom “Iceman” Kazansky | Top Gun

Day 23 - Bath/shower

↳ Ethan Hunt | Mission: Impossible

Day 24 - Bondage

↳ Ethan Hunt | Mission: Impossible

Day 25 - Sex toys

↳ Ethan Hunt | Mission: Impossible

Day 26 - Brat taming

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 27 - Fingering

↳ Jerry Maguire

Day 28 - Uniform

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun

Day 29 - Table sex

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 30 - Squirting

↳ Brian Flanagan | Cocktail

Day 31 - Biting

↳ Lestat de Lioncourt | Interview with the Vampire

#pete mitchell x reader #maverick x reader #maverick x you #top gun maverick fanfic #pete maverick mitchell x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #tom cruise x reader #iceman x reader #tom kazansky x reader #tom iceman kazansky x reader #ethan hunt x reader #kinktober 2023

379 notes · View notes

imdeadinsidesiriuslydead · 10 months

Text

Jason Todd x reader smut

~Cracked Mask~

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Minors. Don’t. Freaking. Read. This.

Warnings: Smut, sex pollen trope, no Happy ending

Being the newest member of the bay family was hard.

Everyone already had established relationships and amusing dynamics. You felt kinda like an outsider.

That’s not to say that they weren’t welcoming. Duke has opened up about being new to the team and how it was a struggle to feel like you belong.

“But it’s all a mental battle.” He told you “Trust me when I say, We all want you here. And you are important.” He smiled.

What he said made you feel better, but it didn’t help with the awkwardness you felt just existing while the others shared old memories and worked as a unit.

It felt like you were being a nuisance when you asked for help, feeling like you were throwing off the vibe they had going.

Babs, although you don’t call her that outload cause it feels a little weird to call Thee original batgirl by her nickname when you have only worked with her for a few weeks, had made you feel comfortable in the new setting. She had shared helpful tips on how to read the other members of the batfamily during fights.

The only one she hadn’t told you about was Jason Todd.

Jason was the robin your remembered the most through you early teen years along with Tim drake in the later years.

Jason was a total mystery to you. You had been introduced to him your first day, and you had been on missions together, but he never made an effort to talk to you.

You won’t lie. He’s ridiculously hot. But he made you nervous. The other siblings approached him with sarcasm and jokes but you’ve seen him beat the crap out of some villains and the apparent different side he show when he’s with his brothers give you whiplash.

You think he’s caught on to your little crush as he purposefully makes eye contact with you and refuses to look away first. When you blush and look away and when you look back, he has a smirk on his face. Enough to make you blush harder.

currently your being assigned mission by Bruce. He usually puts you with him and Damian or with Duke during daytime patrol, but today…

“Poison ivy has recently attacked a chemical plant in bludhaven, she’s retreated to her home towards uptown. Usually I would take this, but the Joker has been setting off alarms so Robin and I will take care of that. Jason and Y/N will take Ivy. Tim and Cass get kiteman has trying to hard to be important downtown. And Steph will stay here if any backup is required. Got it?” He asked.

Everyone nodded and started off toward their respective vehicles. You didn’t know how to drive any other than Batmobile. You looked around and your eyes landed on Jason. He had his helmet in his hand while he responded to a text on his phone.

He looked handsome just casually leaning against the table with his head down. But Ivy committed a crime and won’t hesitate to commit more. Your time is important and you’re on the job. You’ll have time to stare at him from afar later, but right now you have a job to do.

You approach him quickly. “So what are we taking?” You ask as the rest of the team sped out of the batcave.

He points to his motorcycle. Shit. You have to hold on to him. You look back at him and he’s smirking again.

You put on your mask and get on the bike with him. You lightly put your hands around him, trying not to notice his hard muscles under your fingertips. Your mind starts to drift to what they would look like without his shirt on but get startled back to reality when he revs his engine and takes off into the night.

——

When you both are as quietly as possible enetering Poison ivys lair, you remember to put on the mask you have in your utility belt. You can hear your breathing in your ear louder than before.

Vines grab at you legs but you quickly cut them away. You book it deeper in with The red hood at your tail. “Poison Ivy!” He yells.

“You should leave you know, I don’t want to hurt you.” She said as she makes her way out of the shadows.

“Should have thought of that before you attacked a chemical plant.” You said, getting into a fighting position.

“Fine.” She said. Vines attached to your legs and shook you both around. You cut them while they had you in the air and fell to the ground.

You heard a crack when you hit the ground but payed no attention as you hurt the red hood grab a flamethrower and start burning the vines around you.

poison ivy screamed and hit you fast with thick vines you couldn’t cut through. She held you both up in front of her, and seethed with anger.

“Fine. If you think you’re so big and bad to start killing living things like that. I’ll treat you like a real threat!” She yelled. She pulled out a big pink flower and as in was in her hand it bloomed.

She sighed with joy when it sprouted then turned to face you too. “You want to be treated like Batman? Fine.” She smiled before blowing the pollen from the plant into your faces.

you couldn’t smell it at first having total faith in your mask and air filter. But when a pain started in your midsection, you screamed.

The red hood looked over at you and Ivy smiled. “Bye.” She said before the vines through you out of the building and into the street.

Jason tan over to you as you laid in pain. You were shaking with pain but were shocked to feel a Tingling between your legs.

Jason picked you up and grappling hooked you to a dark rooftop.

he took off his mask. “Y/N. What happened?” He looked at your mask and ripped it off your face. You coughed while shaking on the ground. You saw the clear crack across the front and the pollen stuck to it.

Jason swiped the pollen off with one finger and took a small sniff. He face contorted with an emotion you couldn’t quite figure out.

“Shit. Um. Y/N we can’t go to Batman about this. Trust me it will be worse if she sees you like this.” He said as you coughed and shook. Was he really denying you medical attention right now. You felt like you were gonna die.

“I don’t care! Just-“you coughed”help me!”

He looked around almost unconformably. His eyes filled with something. And before you know it his hand was over your clothed heat. You gasped in shock but quickly realized you didn’t feel any pain, just pure pleasure.

He removed his hand and immediately the pain was back. And you screamed.

he put his hand back on your core and applied pressure. “Y/N you were hit with sex pollen. The pain will only get worse if you don’t relive your self.” He said.

You were so lost in pleasure that all you did was nod repeatedly asking him to just do it.

he looked shocked but his eyes were blown out with lust. “You want me to. Are you sure?” He asked.

“Yes! Jason please! Make me cum!” You moaned with no hesitation.

That was all he needed before he was mercilessly rubbing your clit through your suit. You moaned loudly.

Jason kissed you quickly to shut you up. His lips were soft and his kiss was loving and slow compared to the ruthless pace he has on your clit.

“ More Jason!” You moaned against his lips. He got on top of you and slotted his hip’s between your legs.

you felt his hard length pressed against you core. He started rubbing his hard cock against your pussy, earning soft moans from you.

He rutted against you faster emitting grunts every so often. He picked up pace putting his head in the crook of your neck and he let out soft whimpers.

of course he whimpers, you thought.

“You’re so- so fuck.” He moaned if your ear as he picked up pace.

the friction of your suits caused you to quickly finish and left you wanting more.

Jason looked down and saw the wet mark on the front of your suit and how it grew. That only pushed him further. It turned him on even more.

“Ever since you walked into the batcave I’ve wanted you under me.”He grunts out. You moaned as the words reached your ears.

He wanted you.

his rutting becomes sloppy and animalistic as he groans and koans above you.

he starts kissing your neck softly. Which is completely different than the brutal pace he’s set.

He lets out a whine before collapsing on top of you. You wrap your arms around him just wanting the closeness.

a minute goes by before you both slowly come to your senses.

He quickly stands up and looks down on you and you desperately try to cover yourself up out of embarrassment.

“Shit. I’m- fuck. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. When I smelt it to make sure I- fuck. We shouldn’t have- shit. Im Sorry.” He rambled before putting his face in his hands.

“Now what?” You ask as you stand up and face the opposite direction of him. “Like I don’t know how I’ll be able to look Bruce in the eye after. That.” You say as you just wish you had been given a different assignment.

“Let’s just go back and say the mission was a fail. Batman should have never given us this mission. He knows how brutal Ivy can be.” He says as he awkwardly picks up his helmet.

“let’s just forget this ever happened.” You say putting yourself back on the bike, pretending to not feel the tingle between your legs against the leather seat.

“Yea let’s just go back to normal.” He said.

you scoffed. “Yea the normal of ignoring me and me not talking to anyone.” You mutter.

“Y/N-“ Jason starts.

“No. Let’s just go. This was really weird. I want to go back home now.” You state feeling the embarrassment creep up your throat.

Not only did you just cum on this guy you only spoken five words to. But you just came on your bosses son. And he only did cause you were in pain. You felt like crying but you’d have to wait until you got back to the manor.

Jason simply nodded and got back on the bike and drove you home.

You only got laid causes he sniffed the pollen. The pollen made him say and babble crap he didn’t mean. You felt like an idiot.

————

part 2

request are open!

#dc comics #batman #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd fic #Jason Todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd whump #jason #todd #smut #dc smut #dc x reader

457 notes · View notes

eldritch-spouse · 4 months

Note

Trying to hang out and catch up with your demon girlfriends, but the owner of the ice cream place you go to keeps butting into your conversation.

" Oh God, he's coming this way again, isn't he? " You murmur, having avoided eye contact with the weird glutton just in that nick of time where it wouldn't be seen as rude.

One of your friends snorts, then harshly elbows the succubus next to her. " Go on, get him busy. We need to have a talk. "

" Owwie... Okay, you owe me. " The mid-ranker in question groans, then gets up with a big bright smile befitting of a model. She puffs her cheeks and adjusts her sizeable breasts behind her scant dress before getting up and immediately making a b-line for Berle. You would feel bad for her, if not for the fact that you know she truly enjoys being a nuisance whenever possible.

" That should buy us time. " The demoness twice your size chuffs. She claps a hand on your shoulder and practically drags you forward on the table. " Listen up pipsqueak, you know who that is? "

" Well, I- " You stammer. " I know he's kind of a celebrity around here... "

" Kind of?! " The smaller of your friend hisses like you've disappointed her. " That right there is Vorticia's youngest son! "

Your eyes widen like dinner plates. " The Queen Vorticia's son? "

" ... 'S kinda cute he has a puppy crush on you. " The sloth currently busy with a bowl of chocolate ice cream mumbles.

" Cute?! " The tallest one growls. " No way! Having royalty after you is fucked up, man! "

She blinks, that poor brain trying to catch up. " H- Huh? Whaddya mean? "

" Think about it, idiot. Infernal royalty aren't people you simply refuse. Take our King for example, everyone's shaking in their boots wondering if a war will start with every minor disagreement... "

Your hands shake slightly on the table. " But- But that's madness. Why would he want anything with me? I'm not even... I'm just a nobody. "

" Yeah right?! So what the fuck does he want to do with you- " You know better than to answer when she pokes her big index against your chest. " Nothing good, that's what! "

" O- Okay. " She's your friend, you trust her judgement about demon royalty.

" You need to show him you're not here to be fucked with! Harden up, do a bitch face, like this- " She puffs like a wild boar and makes a truly terrifying snarl of an expression, gums showing and eyes blazing with malice. It makes you shudder.

In turn, you can only weirdly strain a grimace. It makes you feel like a clown, and judging by her cheeks now puffing with laughter, it's not working very well. " Pfff- Okay, gonna need some work, but I'm confident. Maybe. "

She's swatted by the tiny woman next to you. " You think that's going to stop him, seriously? What we need is strategy. She's hopeless on her own! "

" Thanks- "

" Oh yeah?! What's your big idea? "

" Guys- " The sloth tries to speak around a mouthful of chocolate. " We all took the cockblock oath, chill. "

A chorus of "We did"s follows.

" Right? So, let's just keep being cockblockers. "

" What- To a prince?! I know she's a demon magnet, but come on, even we have limits! "

" Well- I think we're doing okay so far. " She points a spoonful of ice cream out into the distance.

Your succubus friend is firmly wrapped around Berle, one hand toying with his right horn and the other insistently trying to weasel under his apron while she talks his ears off and the young glutton tries desperately to keep up. He looks frantic, glancing around frequently as if having lost track of something.

Your wrathful friend forces your chin her way before your eyes can meet the prince's again.

" You're never coming here without us all, okay? "

#Berle oc #demon girlfriendss

166 notes · View notes

thedevilspearl · 11 months

Note

please be on your old man Lucifer agenda more often we love to see it 🙇

a/n: so lucifer with erectile dysfunction is what gets you going, huh? kidding but yesss let’s talk about old man luci some more bc i for one can’t get enough (i am tempted to start spreading my dilf!lucifer agenda >_<)

warning: none really, other than age gap maybe (but it’s nothing specified). minors do not interact!

oldman!lucifer is a man with impeccable and acquired taste. so it doesn’t matter if you’re a pretty, young thing or aged like fine wine just like him; if he chooses you, that’s a blessing in and of itself.

his bones may be beginning to wear away and his body may ache with the years he has lived through, but oldman!lucifer always has the energy to pursue the one who caught his eye.

speaking of eyes, oldman!lucifer has cute little crows feet on his. and the ruby in his eyes still glimmer, showing that despite his age, he has more than enough spirit left in him.

but oldman!lucifer has very poor eyesight so more often than not, he’ll be wearing his glasses. they’re a nuisance at times, but he will always wear them when you’re around because he wants to see your beauty in all it’s glory.

even when you’re on your knees between his legs, oldman!lucifer will push up his glasses that keep sliding down from the sweat just so he can admire your pretty face as you gag on his cock.

now onto the cock, having erectile dysfunction is not something oldman!lucifer would ever want to admit. but when your piece of ass first crossed his path, it was the first time he felt himself harden naturally in months. your pretty face and compatible personality only add to his attraction for you.

oldman!lucifer longs for you and his cock hardens thinking of you and how wonderful his cock would feel wrapped up in your body. he reminisces the way you touched his arm and the flirty smile you flashed his way earlier that day.

he grunts as he strokes his cock under the covers and oldman!lucifer feels ashamed to be sullying your image by masturbating to the thought of you just because he can finally get hard again.

but then oldman!lucifer reminds himself that you are the reason he’s jacking off at midnight like a teenage boy who can’t control his hormones.

so oldman!lucifer decides pursuing the real thing would be much more exciting than his juvenile activities. so when you next meet, he decides to approach you.

he flirts with you in a way which you can only describe as gentlemanly. oldman!lucifer pursues you with elegance and class, taking you to the finest of places. if you prefer more simple and humble settings, he will learn and cater all dates to your interest and comfort.

and you don’t need to think twice because oldman!lucifer pays for all of your dates. that’s how it was done back in his day, and it’s most certainly how he does it now.

his legs may be weaker than when he was younger, but oldman!lucifer doesn’t miss the way your feet rub up and down his calf under the table and it shoots shocks of electricity right up his legs and to his cock.

oldman!lucifer went from having no control over his cock getting hard to trying his hardest to hide his boner as he walks out of the restaurant with you on his arm.

like the gentleman he is, oldman!lucifer drives you home and pretends he doesn’t notice the way your gaze lingers on him while he drives. he pulls up and walks you to your door, and he told himself to not be desperate and get his dick wet too early. but he can’t stop himself when you asked him to come in with those seductively pouty lips and needy eyes.

he takes it easy on the first night, slowly drowning you in pleasure and oldman!lucifer can barely hold back himself. he hasn’t had a night like this since....well, he can’t remember how long it’s been.

and he doesn’t give up after one night. he meets up with you several times a week, then it turns into every day. and it’s not just for sex. for a man at his age, it’s difficult for oldman!lucifer to find valuable company that appreciates him as much as he appreciates others.

but that changes with you and the already lonely soul of oldman!lucifer is even lonelier when he’s not around you.

oldman!lucifer does move quickly and his pacing may scare you, but it’s just because he’s desperate for companionship.

he loves having his cock buried in your hole(s) and oldman!lucifer loves hearing you scream his name as he ploughs into you, or listening to you whimper with tears when he makes love to you.

he loves feeling alive again, not just because his cock is but because you redefine his meaning of living. oldman!lucifer thought he’d learned everything there was to learn, but you teach him things he would never thought to have known.

oldman!lucifer ’s love language is gift giving. he is always thinking of new things to buy you. but he’s an old man so sometimes his gifts are what you’d expect your grandparents to give you when you move into your first home.

he doesn’t know what an air fryer is, but he thinks you need one and now you have one in your kitchen. is that a new top of the range vacuum cleaner? well, now it’s added to his shopping basket ready to be delivered to your house as a surprise. oldman!lucifer takes care of your home as much as he takes care of you.

even if he has kids of his own, oldman!lucifer doesn’t think he’s particularly good with children. toddlers and young kids tend to be repelled by his resting grumpy face, but teenagers, however, take a liking to him.

oldman!lucifer has shiny silver tips in his hair, and he obsesses every morning when he looks in the mirror because he has two, no, three new grey hairs and he can’t handle it. nor can he handle the wrinkles. to cope, he forces himself to act cool and nonchalant about his ageing, like he didn’t even notice it happening.

but oldman!lucifer finds a way to love it all because you run your fingers through his greying hair with so much gentleness, and you kiss all of his skin with so much love regardless of his wrinkles, and you adore him exactly how he is that makes him never want to change.

#i got majorly carried away with these #♡ pearl’s writing #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me smut #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer smut

636 notes · View notes

sunny-mercya · 4 months

Text

Ordinary Godly

Apollo x Male Reader

Fandom -> Percy Jackson Series

Masterlist

Percy Jackson, who has fought a variety of Monsters and argued—even battled at some point—with the Godly deities of the mighty Olympus, had expected everything—when stepping into the home of Jason and Will, with the rest of his little friends troop—but nothing like this.

Seeing you, the deity of tranquility and slumber—another brother of Hypnos—for the very first time in actuality—was a weird experience of meeting for Percy.

»THERE YOU ARE! MY TWO PRECIOUS SUMMER BOYS! OH, NICO! I GREET YOU TOO, COME HERE!«

You had emerged from the Kitchen, baggy clothes—consisted of a large tee with the print of some band name and lyrics quote and pyjama pants—covered in what seemed to be flour and cocoa powder.

Your voice was loud, filled with thrilling excitement of joyfulness. Taking Jason and Will into your arms, hugging them tightly against you and giving each of them more than just a few kisses to the cheeks and head. Nico had been pulled into this as well, suffering through much affection as well.

You're radiating more hyperactivity energy and child like behaviour off, than the emotions you're meant to send out.

Walking into a home, in which Jason and Will had grown up with their two godly parents, which looked so damn mundane humane—that Percy had to take a double check on that Cookie Tin-can, filled with sewing stuff.

It confused him. If they all had learned one thing of being Demigods—half children of godly blessings, which sometimes could be seen as a curse though—that none of the gods and goddesses—their other parentally half—live like a ordinary human.

Always exotic enormously flashy, expensive, but never dare to boring and dull—than a god whose dull and pathetic unnoticeable, could not be worthy for eternity of mighty existence.

Yet, Percy thought, both the house and you are a stark contrast to what they have been told. Simple and ordinary.

»Are we sure this is really a deity?« asked Percy in a hushed whisper, leaning down to Annabeths ear and elbowing her in the side.

»I haven't seen Demosonos personally, but I highly doubt Jason and Will wouldn't recognised their parent.« she whispered back, keeping wary glances at them—some Gods can't be trusted.

Nico who had managed to free himself from the suffocating hug of love, stepped back to them and hissed in the same hushing voice of whispers;

»Do you two have any death wishes? Don't upset them.«

I mean, Percy thought—letting his gaze wander back to you—if we do so, what would happen? Ares, Zeus, Hades, Athena and his own father—Poseidon—are much more scarily and worthy of being called merciless fighters.

You on the other hand, looked—truthfully—weak. Percy could for sure, probably, take you down in seconds.

After all, from what he could gather, you're more than just a minor god—even less than minor, a subcategory inside a subcategory—unworthy to be mention with the same breath of saying Nxy, Hypnos and all the way to Morpheus.

Still, Percy is after all confused to why their Prophecy and Quest is, to seek you out and ask for your help.

Lesser Gods aren't helpful, they're more a nuisance.

~~~

»And this must be your other friends? Right? Perseus and Annabeth?« the question was more towards your sons.

You stepped towards the two teens, Will had already pulled Nico away to the Sofa and Jason had gone to the Kitchen, greeting loudly his other dad.

Percy and Annabeth felt both a bit uncomfortable with your vacant stare and the friendly smile on your lips.

»Uhh, It's Percy actually, I don't liked to be called Perseus« Percy didn't know, why of all the things he could say, decided to say this—but he did, mouth being faster than his brain again—and Annabeth elbowed him hard in the rips, a tiny gaps of breath intake left her lips.

The friendly smile never wavered from your lips, nodding at them—they couldn't tell if you had even listen properly, vacant glint still in your eyes—head dropping a bit to the side.

»Aah! You want some tea and Sweets? C'mon, c'mon, now don't be shy you two, take a seat. Will be a dear and help me« clapping your hands, you ushered the two teens to the Sofa, skipping already to the Kitchen.

»I will explain later a bit,« with that being said, Will stood up as well.

Neither of the three said anything, looking around the living room with more interest than addressing the current situation—or more issues perhaps?

»I thought you knew what he is like Nico....I mean with you being Wills boyfriend, you are prone to meet his parents«

»Hey hey, don't come at me now Chase. I only have met Mr. [Surname] like three times and that was in the city.«

»Small tip of advice, don't be so stiff. Relax a little or Pa's gonna worry again« they hadn't noticed Jason, who have come back from the kitchen with a tray of Tea cups and Kettle.

Will following soon after with a Tray of sweets and pastries, setting it down on the coffee table. They both getting comfortable on the sofas—Jason on the main big one, while Will had sat with Nico on the right mini sofa and Percy and Annabeth on the left—again.

Nico instantly following Jasons advice, relaxing his body and sliding just a bit down.

When Apollo had entered the living room, Annabeth and Percy gasped loudly in surprise. Standing up they bow their head or more like, Annabeth forced Percy to do as well.

»Lord Apollo!«

»Since when did you become a Lord? Aren't you a God?« you asked in amused surprise, taking a seat as well.

»Apparently just now, love« Apollo shrugged, Will started to laugh and Jason sighed in disappointment, shaking his head—so much for giving advice to his friend, to not be so formally stiff and causing tension.

~~~

The hours passed and Percy and Annabeth had relaxed over the times. Coming to the conclusion that you aren't one of the tricky gods—like Ares—who likes to use them as soldiers.

You asked them various questions, be it about the quest or some daily things; like what's your favourite TV-Show.

It wasn't long till you slumped, actually passing out from something akin to exhaustion and sleep, body leaning against Apollo—who had long wrapped an arm around you in a protective manner.

Jason stood up, taking your legs and moving them onto the couch. Getting a blanket from the footstool—where are tower of them was stacked—and covering you a bit to the hips with it.

Percy couldn't help himself but to stare at the marks—he first took notice of them when you handing him a gummy-bear—which covers your arms, starting from your wrist and ending somewhere at your neck or collarbone.

He had seen these types of Marks before. Racking his brain for the information he had read about or being told from.

Oh.

Percy jumped up, snapping his fingers and pointing—accusingly—at you. Head turning to Annabeth and again his mouth had been faster than his brain.

»That's THE DEMON OF OLYMPUS!« he had shouted it so loud, that your body jerked up—stirring awake is what you begun, already mumbling something sleepily out of context.

Apollo moved you quickly into his arms, shushing you gently back to the dreamlands and humming a little tune of it.

A mess had started to erupt between them all.

»I know! It's still highly disrespectful to point that out, seaweed brain!« Annabeth slapped him hard against the shoulder.

»Do you have a death wish, Jackson? Do you want us get killed?« hissed Nico, giving a glare, sitting uptight again and body going absolutely rigid stiff.

The worst part for Percy was probably the disbelieving disappointment frown on both, Jasons and Apollos—though his frown looked more like concealed bubbling anger—face.

Apollon stood up with you in his arms, ready to walk out. Will was about to stand up as well, wanting to go with his father.

»I'll take it from here boys. I expect from you two to inform your friends properly now, to ensure that such outrageous behaviour won't happen again.«

»Wow, way to go Percy. Upsetting one of the kinder gods in just one go.« Will wanted to laugh, to make it seem that it wasn't that bad, but his laugh came more like a strangled cry out.

»How many times did we, did I, told you to keep your mouth shut in more than just one occasion?!« chastised Annabeth, giving him another shoulder slap.

»No, honestly Percy, be fucking glad Pa had another slumber episode of his or you would....I don't know, but it wouldn't be nice.«

»But he's the Demon of Olympus! Isn't he not? The marks of Zeus's banning are a clear sign of it. I don't get why we need help from an evil deity who also deceives everyone to believe he's being known as a lesser god«

»Even for you Perseus, that's a new personal low! How dare you to say such horrible things about my Pa.« Jason stomped off, the anger radiating off and his face slightly red from it.

Will had decided to inform Percy properly about his dad's complete and historical story. He didn't want his parents to be offended—or feel upset and angered—after all they need their help and support for the upcoming—already starting—quest.

You're the brother, a child from Nyx, of Hypnos. It is true, your actual deity personality, form and power is akin to one of chaos—you're a personification of weather—raging storms to be exact—and a sneer of demonic vileness petty violence.

During a darker time in history, Zeus had strikes you with lightning—sealing your actuality, banning them for a balance—and splitting you into what you are now; god of tranquility and slumber.

The splitting had also caused a turn in personality itself. Making you more childish, airhead and forgetful. Kindness from you, comes not completely naturally—feeling more forced without meaning to, though you do love and this was a genuine one.

»Yeah okay, but why is Demosonos—uh, [Name], with your father, Will?«

»They're married?«

»Why?«

»You're officially demoted from Seaweed brain to dumbweed brain.« muttered Nico, pinching the bridge of his nose.

»They married for like years and that's because out of actual love and I'm not gonna tell you their sappy love story.«

»Still I don't get how like Lord Apollo, who blends like the sun, is being married freely to someone like him, a actual demonic person«

»I–oh my fucking god, Percy. My dads are married because they love one another, completely smitten they are, how hard is that to understand?!« Will groaned in desperation, taking a handful of biscuits again—had he almost eaten the whole bowl.

And Nico thought, how a great way to upset a God and already dooming their quest in the very beginning.

~~~

Jason felt hesitant, as if he were five again and didn't wanted to disrupt his parents sleeps because he had a nightmare, to step into the bedroom.

Respectfully he knocked a few times on the door, before opening it and stepping inside.

The bedroom was almost shrouded in complete darkness, except for the dimmed nightshade next to the bed.

Apollo had acknowledged his son, didn't say anything though—to occupied to lay in bed next to you, hand supporting his head as he drove his fingers through your hair.

A cooled washcloth was placed over your face. You hadn't started to sweat, sign of upcoming fever, but Apollon didn't wanted to risk it—doing a prevention beforehand.

What most, be it his own kind or humans, didn't know is that Zeus lightning strike to you has caused more than just a split personality—created a rift in your health, leaving you vulnerable and weak and prone to sickness.

Apollo couldn't do much about it. Not even with his powers of healing, leaving him a pit of despair and self-hatred whenever you got sick.

»Do you know the actual, not that stupidly outrageous idea of us gods being unfaithful, I mean some truly are, reason, why we have decided to let you and Will and all your other siblings been born from Humans?«

»No,« Jason shook his head, debating with himself if he should sit or lay down next to you, in the end he chose a mix of both.

Jason had sometimes wonders why it always had been that way—being born from humans and a deity—even though gods and goddesses could bear children just as well.

When he had been younger, wasn't all that long ago in his early teen years—memory still fresh in mind and sometimes upsetting him—he had accused his father, they had another argument that day, he never had loved dad in the beginning and being unfaithful to him—cheating with woman's and only seeing you as some kind of trophy.

That day was the only day and time where Jason had seen Apollo with actual anger on his face. The kind of anger which bubbles in you till it turns into hatred and pettiness.

»It's because your dad wouldn't survive the procedure of giving birth and I mind you, the whole explanatory of the aspect itself of how we gods and goddesses giving birth and the many various ways to do so, is chaotic complexing on its own.«

»You mean, dad would die? But you are immortals and immortals aren't meant to die«

»Yes and no. Even though we're immortals of eternity, there are still ways—ancient barbaric ones—to kills us or at least in a sense of us being dead. No, no, Jay, the reason isn't death, he just wouldn't survive.«

Jason furrowed his brows, not understanding what his father meant or trying to tell him.

»You well aware of what happened to your dad, his history. Zeus had strike him down, leaving him in the few hours of unconsciousness—which had caused a spurt of utterly violent storms throughout the land—vulnerable and unable to defend himself against any sort of danger and hostile.«

»Are you trying to tell me that, Zeus had, you know—with dad?«

»Dear lord! Jason! Absolutely not! Don't ever think of such disgusting scenarios and manners again.«

Apollo sighed deeply, not having expected his Son to come to such conclusions. You stirred again, your hand coming up to your face and taking the washcloth off.

Bleary you opened your eyes, trying to make out where you are and who you are.

Apollo, praying silent apologies already, leaning down to you—pressing a soft kiss onto your lips and with a quick whisper of humming lullaby, brought you back into the grips of slumber. Unconscious you rolled onto your side, over to him and into his arms.

»You put him into force sleep! Didn't you told us to never use our powers of sleep in such forceful ways? It's a rule number one!«

Apollo raised a brow at his son, who looked absolutely mortified for a good minute and turned into distasteful disappointment.

»Now now, my son, don't give me such gaze. I too am not proud of what I did, but it had to be done. It's still a sensitive topic and I don't want to cause a distress, disturbance or even distrust perhaps. Now, where was I? Aah yes—«

»So like I said, during the hours of unconsciousness, a wave of sickness rolled over—custody of Pandora's box being opened—and infected painfully your dad. Leaving him, once he had woke up, in a whimpering withering anxiety filled mess.«

»And that's how you meet Dad then, right?«

»That's a story for another, but yes. Anyways, to what I'm trying to say is, your dad is still too vulnerable and weak—sickness prone, to be able to handle the whole procedure of giving birth. I mean we tried it once and only, but.....let's just say, dad still has scars from it. And thus the reason why we and perhaps most of us gods, decided to let our children been born from humans.«

Jason gulped, trying to not choke on his tighten up throat. He hadn't been aware of it, how the true story had happened, but it all makes so much sense now.

The times you got so bedridden, unable to do anything but sleep, that Will cried for days and nights thinking you're about to die from incurable illness.

Or when Will had been still a child, having gotten a nasty flu and you had to take care of Will and him—Jason himself had been in some bad mood the whole week to even consider to help you out as he was the older brother after all—all on your own, because his father had been away for business trips—and you looked so exhausted and ready to pass out any minute, that Jason hadn't even question back then why you took pills after pills and chugged cups of coffee.

Jason understands so much better now, why you never got angry—like he had been, when founding out—when Apollo had intercourse with yet another woman.

He understood why you're so prone to sudden collapse of exhaustion and slumbering sleep during the day or in the middle of doing something.

And then he felt a rush of rage through his blood.

You didn't deserve to be treated like this, to be frowned upon down or with that false kindness the other deities treated you with.

You didn't deserve to either called a demonic being or naively dumbling of airy forgetfulness.

Jason hated it. Hated them, the ones above and those below. How dare they to make you feel so unwanted and filling you with seeds of self-hatred and anxiety—when you give nothing but pure love to him and his siblings.

Jason wasn't blind, his father neither—though the man chose to completely ignore it, when you once again had puffy red rimmed eyes—when you had cried in the bathroom during nights and mumbling things to yourself, Jason didn't want to repeat.

Jason decided, this prophecy wasn't worth it to bring you once again pain and remind you of the haunting past.

If it meant to sabotage the quest, he would do. After all his loyalty and love belongs to only you and not to the greater ones above, who hadn't even the slightest fuck to give about their children.

#male reader #x male reader #oneshot #fluff #fanfiction #malereader #percy jackon and the olympians #apollon x male reader #apollo x male reader #percy jackson #pjo

170 notes · View notes

devildomcrybaby · 4 months

Text

𝕴 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖙 𝖒𝖊. 𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 𝖔𝖓 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔𝖔

▸Astarion x Reader

Remember when Astarion asked Gale how was his sad, hopeless pining was going? Here we'll see how his pining went. For this purpose you and Astarion get stuck in a cave. Such a cliche.

Minors do not interact. 18+ only Warnings: explicit, blood, some little spoilers, Astarion and reader are so down bad for each other but also kind of rough, pain, blood drinking, piv, mentions of religious themes/gods.

Cold and dark. Everything is cold and dark. Everything except for you. You’re feverish, sweating and shivering at the same time. The only sound you can hear is the rhythmic drip of single drops of water sliding down the stalagmites above your head. Astarion pretends to miss the gulp you try to stifle. The air is thick with humidity, but that’s not the reason you feel like it’s hard to breathe. You throw your head back slightly, resting it against the coarse surface behind you, sighing heavily, eyes purposelessly fixed on the first flare they encounter.

Proper pronunciation is the key to successful spellcasting. It is indeed. Fucking hell. You huff, cursing Gale under your breath. Have a wizard misspell a single Latin word and find yourself stuck in a grim, slimy hole, almost as narrow as a coffin and not even as comfortable. Yes, I’m aware a wooden surface is not comfortable at all, I’ll leave to your imagination how comfortable can a spiky craggy wall be. Let’s be honest, you’d be complaining half as much if you were stuck in that hole alone. Of course your pale vampire companion would get caught in the spell as well. There’d be barely any room for one person to stand in that tight space, let alone two. However, it’s not the lack of space or freedom of movement that bothers you the most, ironically.

Astarion has always made you feel somewhat uneasy, like you want to crawl away from him, crawl away from your own skin too. But you always got the chance to do so before. You could always avert your eyes when he stared at you too openly, always walk a little faster when you could feel the faint warmth of his body as he shuffled too close to you, always pretend you had something else to do, someone else to talk to when his words sounded too sharp, too violent, even. Maybe the only violent thing was the feeling burning in your stomach each time his fingers lingered on your skin a bit too long, each time his usually biting words sounded a bit too sweet.

You felt like a little child trying to get the stern teacher’s attention and miserably failing every single time. And you know he notices. Notices how you go against yourself giving attitude to a deep gnome you just saved from goblins when you wanted to ask him how he was instead, how sad your eyes are when you tell the tieflings you seek to help to get to digging their own graves just to humor him. But he also notices the smirk you fail to disguise when teasing Laezel, keeping her caged a little longer asking her to say ‘please’ before setting her free, even though you already decided you wanted her along, notices the look of satisfaction on your face when you thrust your blade in Fezzerk’s stomach after he shot an arrow in Karlach’s leg. Maybe you’re not so different from his sordid broken self, after all. And he notices how itchy and restless you are now despite being impossibly still, spreading your legs to put some distance between the two of you when your thigh meets his knee for a moment too long, pressing your back against the wall behind you when your chest grazes his. You’re too caught in your own feelings, trapped in the thoughts crowding your mind to pay attention to the man in front of you.

You have no clue, but Astarion too tries to distract himself. He uses a different strategy than yours though.

You are both nuisance and entertainment as you try to avoid him at all costs. So he does the opposite, challenging you in his mind, thinking he’d succeed in a task you’re fumbling egregiously. He fixes his gaze on every little detail his eyes can catch in the dim torch light leaking out the small openings in the slab. The little crease between your eyebrows when you frown and sigh in frustration. The way your hair waves when meeting your shoulders. His fingers twitch as he suppresses the impulse to move the locks away from your face to expose more of your neck and shoulders. The reddening tip of your nose. How the Wavemother's Robe reveals your clavicles and reflects the poor light allowing him to see this little of you. But then, then he notices the dark shade of red of your cheeks. How you purse your lips when you glower. If only he could he’d bite them and make you bleed. The curve of your hips and the shape of your breasts. Your bare thighs. Should have worn the Blazer of Benevolence damn you and damned be the dead Water Queen. Had he always failed to catch how your armor perfectly traces your body, letting him, letting anyone see you as if you were disrobed, until now?

“I’m getting bored”. You’re almost startled when the silence is broken. “Aren’t you?” he adds, his voice lowers asking the question, in that bewitching way you know he got to master through the centuries. The words are simple, trivial, yet you wonder if this is the voice Ulysses heard as he got inside Circe’s lair, maybe the voice that lured sailors to their deaths in the Mediterranean Sea. You falter, his words not quite registering in your brain. He slips a hand between your hair and your neck, then slides his thumb over your pulse point. He doesn’t get that much closer yet, just enough so that his chest brushes yours. Time slows to a crawl, you hear your heart thumping in your ears, your vision is blurred for a second. You blink twice and you see him. In the umbral tangerine light, his features look even more graceful. Or have you already forgotten what he looks like, in your steady effort of avoiding to even glance at him at all costs? Since when have you been stuck in that bleak hollow? Was it minutes? Hours? Had the sun set already? “And I thought my presence would be enough to occupy you” you attempt a joke, keeping your voice as firm and emotionless as you manage. “It is”. His tone is serious, he lowers his face towards yours and his breath hits your parted lips. It’s been for a while, he thinks. Astarion isn’t honest with others, not most of the time at least, but he’s honest with himself. He doesn’t care for sex. He never did, at least since he has memory of. Maybe he did once, at a time when he was just any other elf free to make his own nasty choices. He doesn’t really know, come to think of it. The shadows of his former self getting blurrier day after day, until the days became months, years, centuries. He didn’t care since it became merely any other act he had to perform, exactly like the soothing smile he perfected to persuade his targets to follow him back at the palace, neatly crafted to conceal his embellished lies. Even his mannerism was devised to convey the mask embroidered on his skin. He did feel the atavic impulse, of course he did. Albeit that’s where it ended, at a physical urge. No true desire guided his hand as he undid his breeches. He wasn’t really allowed to desire anything at all, even his body got accustomed to that by then. It’s entirely new to him, this yearning to get close to another individual, to seek the comfort of the warmth of another.

“Allow me”. Not even for a moment does he entertain the thought that you might find it inopportune how close he is all of a sudden when you never even dared to hold his hand before. He fundamentally doesn’t care right now. He just feels and it’s devastating. Adventure after adventure, a long forgotten, perhaps unknown, feeling sneaked inside his rotting heart. His hand slides up to your jaw as he brings his lips to yours. You don’t question it for a second, still dizzy, your lips move against his of their own accord. It’s slow, tentative, like he forgot how to do it. But he hasn’t. You just leave him a small opening, tongue meeting his slightly more emphatically and he’s devouring you. His fingers grab your hair at the root, his tongue demands that you surrender and follow. He pushes his body against yours, your back pressed against the cold scratchy wall. His knee demands access between your thighs until your crotch is right above it. You break the kiss gasping against his mouth when the cool chainmail is pressed to your core. Maybe he took it as an attempt to get away from him, maybe he just followed a deep-seated instinct to have you against him. He pulls your hair hard, his other hand on your thigh, his fingers dig painfully in the bare flesh. His mouth is quickly against yours once more. It’s harsh, raw, and desperate. He’s not playing a part, he’s not kissing you to get you on his side, to have someone protect him from the harsh judgement (and he’d be lucky if it was just ugly glares and a few wisecracks and not a stake through his heart as he sleeps) of those who now know he’s a creature of the night. He’s not bribing the oh so powerful leader with his swift fingers and perfectly refined technique. This isn’t for you, nor for a master waiting for him in a place he's forced to call home, nor for a prying audience he has to entertain. This is for him. He doesn’t know why he needs it, needs your yielding body pressed to his. He only knows he does. He kisses you again and again. He doesn’t get bold, doesn’t need to. Kissing you, having you pressed against him in a cramped space where no one can interrupt the two of you, where no ally or foe can take you away from his merciless grasp, is enough.

But that’s when it hits him that Karlach and Laezel are still out there in the sewers trying to find a crack in the stones they can exploit, to crash them all and set you free. And Sorcerous Sundries where Gale is trying to find a way to undo his disastrous spell is only a few miles away. It’s not true that he has all the time in the world, that he has you at all. Such a ludicrous thought that no one could take you from him if even for this moment.

He gives you one last heated kiss before pulling away, his hands holding your face. As he sees your swollen lips and heated cheeks, he feels the need to kiss you until it hurts. He’s searching for something in your eyes, and you really hope he finds it. You’d show him, if only you knew what that was. Please, you think. And then he sees it. Or maybe it’s all a figment of his imagination bending reality to his own desires.

“I spent two hundred years using my body for the pleasure of others. It never belonged to me, you know”. He says it so simply, as if he was telling you it was windy today. “It was only one of the many means to achieve my master’s ends. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing, it never mattered. I didn’t have wants for so long I forgot I could have any at all. Each and all of my needs…disregarded, every time”. He sounds so exasperated when uttering the last two words, dry voice, and bitter stare. For a moment he's not really looking at you, his eyes hollow, torrid shadows unknown to you riveting him. Then his look clears, and he sees you again. “But now, now I’m allowed to want again. And I can take what I need”.

You get a pit in your stomach hearing his words, a pull you don’t quite know how to name makes you want to hold him, thread your fingers through his hair, kiss his cheek and tell him that it’s never going to be like that again, that you won’t allow it to be like that again. Pathetic! hisses a voice in your mind. You’re not used to intimacy, to showing affection without feeling shame. Certainly not to Astarion no less. Then the rest of his words sink in as he slides two fingers in the neckline of your robe, slowly, his gaze lowering on his hand touching your skin. Time slows down once more, your heart is pounding in your chest. You shiver when his cold fingers slip further in your armor, circling your hardened nipple again and again until you give up on acting unaffected and he hears your little gasps and strangled whines.

“A-Astarion, what are you…?”

“What am I doing, dear?” he finishes the sentence for you. You’re a little…incapacitated at the moment, it seems. “I think you know it very well”. His voice dangerously mellow.

You’d widen your eyes hadn’t pleasure made you dozy. You blink a few times, but your eyelids drop, heavy. You part your lips, the sigh you exhale reaches your ears muffled. You don’t argue for a little while, your arm reaches above your head, your fingers gripping the coarse crags that grates your skin as soon as you touch them, wetting the already dump surface with little droplets of blood. Your chest raises and falls with each ragged breath, your toes curl in your dank boots. You raise a leg, hooking it on his thigh so that you can – in your opinion unnoticeably – grind against it, chasing more and more of the sensations he was so graciously extending you. A sly smirk creeps on his face seeing you falling apart because of such a trifling contact. Aren’t you precious, acting like you’ve never been touched before. He delights in the idea for a moment, that his hands are the only ones that ever grazed your bare skin (not for slicing it, burning it and freezing it of course, or he’d have the competition of quite a few goblins, drows and Dark Gods’ favorites). He grabs the neckline of the robe pulling it down further. The tip of his tongue slides up your breast stopping on your nipple to circle and suck it. You swallow, trying to clench your thighs but only ending up squeezing his. Astarion casually bites your nipple before continuing his ascent licking your chest, your neck, your chin and your parted lips. His hand grabs your hip tightly, pressing you against him further, then his fingers find your chest again. He pulls back to look at your face, your half-lidded eyes slowly opening to meet his.

“Your hands are really pretty. Your fingers…” you pause, your voice soft, barely a whisper “…feel nice.”

“I had a feeling you liked them”. Astarion’s tone is amused, smug. Of course it is. He kisses your cheek, your temple, he’s almost nuzzling into you. “Would you like me to touch you a little further?” he thumbs your nipple, squeezes your breast a little, then presses his hand against it, slides it down your body until his fingers find the slit of your armor. You gasp as soon as they graze your inner thigh. The corner of his mouth twitches before stretching in a smirk.

“Well, that's a little dramatic, don't you think? I haven’t even touched you yet”. His voice is affectionate, but it’s evident how presumptuous he is. You feel your cheeks heating up, you scoff and turn your head to the side.

“Ain’t nothing special, you know? Been done a thousand times before you, vampire” you glare, your lips pursed.

“Oh? Do you come undone this easily at any hand’s touch? How disappointing”.

“No! I…” you turn to face him again, more flustered than ever, concern evident on your face. Have you offended him? Does he think you don’t like him, that you’d like just anyone doing this to you? That he’s just a tool for your own enjoyment? Couldn’t be any further from the truth.

Since you met him, you basically made a purity pledge, damn spawn. And not by your will, for certain. You’re not sure how or when it happened, but at some point, in this disgraced journey of yours, any other creature’s touch almost disgusted you. Elf, drow, human, tiefling, man or woman, tall or short, fair or dark, shy or outgoing, it didn’t matter, if it wasn’t him. You eluded any other’s touch to preserve yourself for a caress that was forbidden to you. Forbidden by who, you might ask? By yourself, by the circumstances, by the gods, even. The more you craved, the less deserving of attaining you felt.

“I know you don’t” he whispers back. Astarion presses his lips to yours once again, his kiss lazy and deep. His fingers find your underwear, the fancy one you just got from Figaro’s Facemaker’s Boutique that you find rather uncomfortable when fighting.

Astarion’s index and middle finger graze your panties a few times, tentatively?, you wonder. No, he doesn’t need to attempt. He knows. Tauntingly is more like it. You hold your breath until he moves your panties aside to rub his fingers up and down your clit. You almost hiss at the contact, his fingers are cold and it feels better than it should. He begins to rub lazy circles around it, relishing the sight of you at his mercy and the little sounds you try to choke back down your throat.

“S-shouldn’t do that” you say, and you grip his wrist tightly, nails digging in his skin. “Stop, I’ll…” he doesn’t move a fraction of an inch, still touching you deliberately as you squirm in his arms.

“Cumming already? You’re so easy. Doesn’t quite suit a leader”. He mocks, his other hand reaches for your breasts again. You hiccup and throw your head back so ungraciously that you hurt yourself. “Shouldn’t you be unswerving, aloof, unresponsive? As unmoved as possible by…extraordinary circumstances?”

“I detest you” you breathe out, ignominious sounds of pleasure leaving your lips.

“Doesn’t really sound like you do, darling”. Astarion hisses when your nails sink so deep in his wrist they draw blood. He refrains from grousing about it though, too engrossed with the sense of power of having rendered his revered leader a whimpering mess, chasing these little moments of weakness of yours. They never last long. You grab his shirt tightly and drag him towards you. His eyes widen, he’s almost startled. You let out a strangled scream before sinking your teeth in his shoulder. You come undone and the taste of his blood fills your mouth, your lips close around the wound, and you suck like he’s done to you many times before. You always liked to cut up pretty things after all. To have your mouth dirty with blood. Each time it left you wonder whether a heaven exists and if it does, whether its gates already banished you once and for all. And if you were indeed banished, was it the last kill or the one before that, that condemned you for eternity? Lost in thought you cling to him, your hands find his shoulders. Your breathing is still quickened, your heart beats so frantically that Astarion can feel it against his ribcage. He knows that you’re not gentle or delicate always. He doesn’t need you to be. He holds you close and kisses your head, a hand comes up to caress your hair. He twists it around his fingers, handling it like he would a precious piece of fabric. And when he’s satisfied, he pulls, hard. Your head is yanked back. You’re met with glistening red eyes. He looks like a mad man, and you know that so do you.

“You’re hideous” he says, and it’s not mean. He’s smiling as he speaks, he licks his blood off your lips, then his tongue demands for yours. He undoes his pants, and you can feel it, hard and wet against your thigh. “I know you want to hurt me. And hurt yourself on me too”. He kisses the corner of your lips and grabs his dick to rub the tip up and down your drenched pussy. Your body twitches each time he brushes your sensitive clit. “May I?”.

You nod and the next thing you hear is your own scream of pain before actually sensing the familiar burning feeling. Astarion grabbed your hips tightly and pushed them down harshly, entering you in one swift motion. You hold onto his shoulders, nails digging in your freshly made wound. He groans and you hiss. You catch your breath adjusting to his size and whisper in his ear.

“That was evil” you utter, your breathing accelerated. You clench around him, more because of the not so pleasant feeling rather than to tease him and he grunts.

“Forgive me, I might have gotten the idea that it was gonna slide in nice and easy”. With a sardonic smile on his face, he delicately grabs your jaw wetting your cheek with his glistening fingers.

You scrunch up your face. “You’re disgusting”.

He chuckles and rubs his nose on your cheek. “Want me to be gentle?”. He doesn’t move yet, an arm sliding around your middle. When he finally does his movements are slow and deep. You sigh in pleasure and put a hand behind his neck, cheek pressed to his.

“I want...I need you inside me like this. Need you to take and take until there’s nothing left. You don’t understand how much I ache for…” destruction. Destroy and be destroyed. That’s why you never dared to lay a hand on him before, terrified he’d crumble between your bloody fingers. But it’s different now. He’s hurting you too. Blood for blood, flesh for flesh. You look in his eyes, a wry smile looming on your chapped lips. He puts a finger under your chin, lifting your face to take a better look at your expression as if to make sure he heard you right.

“As you wish, lover”. He rests a hand against the rocks near your head, his other arm guiding your hips in a ruthless pace. You both grunt and whine and hiss, clawing at each other like one could escape the other’s grasp at any moment. Astarion’s head is dizzy due to the long-awaited pleasure, but still clear enough to ask if he could sink his teeth in you.

“You already sunk something way bigger inside me, do you really need to ask?”

“Naturally, I always ask first. I'm civilised, unlike you”. You don’t have time to reply, soon lost in the disorienting feeling of the pleasure building inside you and the familiar sting of his bite. The more of your blood flows down Astarion’s throat the closer to his orgasm he gets. His grip on you bruising at this point. As the familiar warmth spreads through your core, you cry out his name and it comes out as a prayer spilled from quivering lips. He screams the name of a god he knows quite well as he loses himself in you. Desperation and fury dripping from each syllable. You press your lips to his, as if it’d soothe his agony. His kiss lecherous and vicious just like his movements. But what you hear is not the wail of a martyr. It’s the cry of sore wrists tearing the rope that held them bound, the liberating cry of receiving a caress after only having known violent touches. You hold him close as a wordless scream leaves your lips and you cum together, hot liquid filling your insides and dripping down your things. Soon you’re left there, cold and sweaty against the slimy wall, staring at your vampire companion the same way Peter would have looked at Jesus, had he the chance of seeing his face once again after having denied him.

“It felt lonely, you know” Astarion says quietly after a while. To be treated like a ghost. The metaphor forming in his mind is not that far from the truth. You acted like a psychic child looking the other way at the sight of an unwanted presence as if obstinate neglect could make it disappear. Just like at the sight of a spirit, you got startled whenever you couldn’t avoid his sight, his touch. “To have you so close all the time…” he raises a hand to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear “…only for you to flee away as soon as I deluded myself that I could reach you”. You grab Astarion’s hand not to let him take it away from your face, pressing your cheek to his palm and closing your eyes. “It’s always been a terrible affair to me. To want. It petrifies me”. You pause. “As long as I crave nothing, nothing can mislead me. Nor be taken away from me. If I don’t cherish nor desire anything, what can be stolen from me? I’d replace it with something else anyway”. Your look is open and sincere, he doesn’t doubt you. “You…I knew I wouldn’t find you in someone else. I always kept you at a distance so I would have never known what I could have lost and now…”

“Such a silly little thing you are. Should have told me to part ways instead of ever guarding my side. I won’t forget it” he grazes your lips, then puts his arms around you and holds you close.

Despite his grip you soon feel that…something is missing. The wall behind your back crumbles and you slip from his arms, falling on your knees.

“Tch. I hate happy endings”. You grunt at the sudden pain of the bump and the scratches, before lifting your head and meeting Laezel’s repulsed grimace.

“There were quite a few…happy endings, it appears to me”. Soon follows Gale’s comment. “That does not strike me as a ‘need of saving situation’…would you perhaps like me to restore that side of the wall, leave you a few more minutes in heaven, as they say?”

“Given your record, Gale, I’ll pass” you get up and shake off the dust.

“How considerate. However, I’d like to inform you that we don’t really need a cave to set the mood”, retorts Astarion.

“Suit yourselves”.

“You better not set any mood anymore, Astarion” warns Laezel.

“Well, I didn’t really mind. That was a hell of a show”. Karlach stops in thought before adding “…which can be taken in two ways considering my opinion of the Hells”.

“I would have gladly missed it” sighs Shadowheart, as you all approach the stinky gooey hole that leads outside the sewers.

157 notes · View notes

uglypastels · 1 year

Text

Not Wholly Evil |II| Pirate!Eddie au

summary: as the daughter of the Governor, there is quite a heavy prize set on your safe return home, and the captain will not let anything come between him and his bounty.

Series Masterlist

word count: 5.7k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. heavy scarring and wounding. minor character death. allusions to suicide, depression and trauma. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: frequent mentions of non-con and allusions to assault, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment. abuse. manhandling.

There might be a mention of other ST characters, and for plot's sake, everyone is an adult here, just coz I don't want fetus pirates running around, but they are not really relevant to the plot.

Chapter 2: Asphodel "Because you and I are alike, and there will come a moment when you have a chance to show it." - Elizabeth Swann, Pirates of the Caribbean

Despite gaining the privilege of an open cage and access to the rest of the ship, you decided against this freedom… and in a way, that was all the freedom you could ask for, wasn’t it? To choose where to go or where to stay. The restrictions were only so far as anyone else on this ship. The uncharted waters kept you all at the bay of the plank.

But perhaps there was a part of you was scared to go beyond what had now become your own piece of the ship, a safety blanket among the ravenous snake pit. It was not even a question. You could just tell by how you closed your cell door at the sound of footsteps approaching down the ladder towards you. These men were wild and unpredictable. You could never expect what they would do once with you. The distance was the only option.

Perhaps not so free as the rest, after all.

Yet.

Because you would fight it. All of them. Make your presence known and show everyone you were not like any other they had snagged off a ship. You assumed there had been more, after all. More prisoners, more girls to take advantage of. The shackles hanging down from the wall in your cell, stained red with rust and blood, were proof enough of what once occurred below deck.

Despite being the safest place you could be in, it still was a nightmare on Earth to spend your days there, among the crates and chests filled with stolen treasures, supplies, and whatever else was deemed worth the same amount of treatment as you. Everything had been stacked mindlessly, dropped at the earliest convenience, and items only moved to make a short path to your holding cell. The disorganisation and thoughtlessness around you had been a bittersweet nuisance. You could not stand it, but at the same time, it was nice to have something so trivial on your mind as the lacklustre distribution of goods around the ship.

Clearly, no one cared about what was going on. No one spent enough time there to notice anything, besides you, of course. The only times someone climbed those steps were to bring you your meals or to bring more storage in. So what harm would it do to you put some order to it?

It wasn’t much, but you had created a way to pass the long hours aboard. And it was pleasant, though exhausting. With the food you were given, your energy was not what it once used to be, and the first thing to go when not feeding the body properly is the muscle. Moving the larger items took a while, but you saw a positive outcome. By taking everything slowly, you had no fear of completing your task soon. It was a never-ending activity. Tiring but something for you to do, and most importantly, keep your mind too occupied with the straining work ahead rather than the larger picture of your current circumstances.

A part of it was also an attempt at claiming your territory. Lifting large boxes was doing the trick when it came to letting out your anger and frustrations, too, a way to channel everything into the peculiar renovation. A point to focus on something physical, something you could control, instead of your emotions and everything going on around you.

A few days since you began doing so, things started making sense. But, most importantly, no one who ever came down there seemed to notice or care what you were doing. Besides the food they had to feed you to keep you alive, there was little interest they seemed to have for your existence.

You found many other objects that they must have considered rubbish, but you could use them just fine. Like the old sails, or what you assumed were scraps of an old torn sail, folded up in a corner. It was such a large piece of material that you tied it up to the corners of your barred walls, creating a curtain that gave you some privacy. Most of the chests around you were locked, giant padlocks handing down from the cover, the keys most likely at the bottomless pit of the ocean along to their original owners. But some were shut, and of course, you poked a peak inside with interest.

Some were empty, and some had scrolls of paper, which you took up as light reading for early mornings when the sun hit through the windows just right, giving you a bright light source. There were captain logs and maritime routes; letters never sent, and maps never finished.

One caught your attention, and you read the most on those drabby mornings when nothing else could make you feel alive. This one particular letter, which you could only assume was intended for a young woman from her lover, kept your heart beating and your hopes of escaping this ship alive. At least the parts of it that you had managed to find, for the parchment was ripped to pieces, the last chunk still missing among the piles of items you were roaming through.

By now, you had read it so many times you didn’t even need the paper to recite it.

My dearest, The nights have been cruel, but I spend them thinking of you, and suddenly, the dark sky does not feel so heartless anymore. I think of your eyes. The sea reminds me of them— it is a calming sight each morning, and I imagine you looking out of your window at the shore, and perhaps we look up at the same clouds, and it is like you are right by my side and the wind feels not as harsh suddenly. More like a kiss straight from your lips. Some days I hum the words of that song you sang to me. I know what you have said about my voice, and the kind words still warm my heart, but it will never compare to yours. I will never do the melody justice. Only you…

There certainly was something about the love you felt seeping through each word you read and reread. It almost put you down into this state of calmness as it looped in your mind in the evening, letting you fall asleep.

It was another evening like all the others before it. Your dinner had been served in silence. If you had not known better, you would have assumed all men had taken an oath of silence, never to speak again, but it was evident the quiet was only limited to you. As you felt the slumber climb over you, the deck was alive and well.

The contrast between living aboard the Hellfire at night and day could not be more than that. While the sun was up, the boots fell heavy above your head, fatigue coming over them as the work had to be done. The crew did what they could to keep the boat afloat and sailing on. As much as the deep waters could be a calming sight to some, it was absurd that there could be nothing around you but water for days. Undoubtedly, the ship must reach a harbour quickly; provisions could only be stored in the salt barrels for so long. The last time the boat reached shore must have been days before your cage door had opened. Then again, you knew what going ashore meant for the people like the Hellfire crew… and did not wish the aftermath upon your worst enemies.

There would be fire, which you knew they adored. It came alive in spirit and light when the night sky appeared. When the work was done, and the sails smoothly let themselves be guided by the wind, you could always hear them walking above your cage, taunting their freedom with songs and tales. The ship was like a masquerade when the moon lit everything in her silver glow. It would have to be, or else the weariness and longing for land would take over.

The songs were nothing special, typical shanties and hymns allured by a drunken chorus, singing the ballads of adventure and treasures, beautifully sombre. Yet, these moments made you believe that some humanity was left in them. Some kindness and compassion, too. A part that they would never dare show when the sun came up.

It was as if the men aboard were two different people in one, where one side came out during the night and the other during the day. And you seemed to much prefer the nighttime sort. As, during the sun hours, the candles and lanterns went out, and with it, their souls were all back to their usual dirty selves. Their dark spirits would take over once more.

Either way, the nights were extended, as no sleep came to anyone. Not with the singing being so loud that it drilled into your ears. For them, slumber would come later and disappear quickly too, but no one seemed to mind.

You had no way of telling the time on board, the only possible tell sign would be the sun's position, but even that was never exactly as you had barely any idea where in the world you were. All you could make out was that the crew made way for their hammocks in the small hours of the morning when the sun teased its appearance at the horizon, its glow awakening everything else but the drunken sailors that held you captive.

The ship was asleep. The only sounds you could make were the waves smashing into the vessel and the gulls screeching in the distance. It was an opportunity. You could roam the deck unbothered.

With a deep but shaky breath, you inhaled the salty sea air as you climbed the ladder, hands paling at your knuckles from your grip on it. The trapdoor opened with a creak, and you froze in your movements, waiting for the sound to have woken up everybody… but the silence resumed. You let out another deep breath and pushed the door open to reveal the sky, millions of stars looking down at you, but already fading as the sun appeared slowly. The dewy morning hours were dark but brighter than anything you had been surrounded with since your capture.

It had been getting colder by the day, and you already knew that by sitting in your cell. Soon enough, more than your dress would be needed for the climate you were entering. Shivers swarmed your arms at the wind blowing by. Your steps remained small and apprehensive as you needed help figuring out where to go. You had the entire ship deck to yourself for a short time. There was so much to explore above ground, but your legs automatically steered you towards the barriers of the ship.

You walked over to the ship's edge, letting your nails dig into the wood and your frustrations on the trim piece. Stand there, look at the horizon, and watch the sun slowly rise from under the water. The first sunrise you witnessed in weeks— at least not from the small window that peaked right over your head in your cell– had been a euphoric experience. Everything felt brand new. As your last attempts at peeking at the waves had resulted in painful flashbacks of your previous minutes aboard the Red Tail, now, you focused on the calm ripples of the water. No longer was the only thing you saw in the blue the blood of your long-lost friends. You saw their resting place. In the early morning, golden sun rays peeked out from the horizon, illuminating the drab grey of the waters like a liquid treasure hiding beneath the surface. You saw the waves moving along the ship sheepishly, back and forth. Calmly, sleepy, drifting away into the distance with each push of the boat and wind. It was slowly waking up, the sea, the earth.

What would it dream of, you pondered. It must be lovely to be so at peace.

If you closed your eyes and let the fresh golden light wash over you for long enough, you could fool yourself into oblivion. That you were somewhere else. A happy place.

It was so peaceful and quiet that the smallest of disturbances broke you out of your happy thoughts. You felt the presence from across the ship, his eyes on you, disintegrating your moment of bliss. But, of course, it could have been anyone, and you expected it to be one of the crewmates, one of the men with poor luck who had to start their work shift with the sun.

Never, in a million years, did you imagine turning around and meeting with a pair of golden hazel eyes. Captain Munson was leaning against one of the masts, leg prodded against the wooden pole. He chuckled at the sight of your face, evidently struck with panic. How had he even reached the centre of the deck so quietly? Because… he could not have been standing there, or anywhere, all this time?

In one hand, he held an apple, and in the other, a small knife. He pressed the blade against the fruit’s skin and his thumb over it, cutting a small piece off. Then, still with the knife under it, he brought the apple slice to his lips. Never did his eyes leave yours as he ate. You felt unnerved with each move he made. You felt the need to look away, but for some reason, you simply couldn’t. It was like he was capturing you in a trance. So instead, you let your nails dig into the ship’s rail even more.

‘Do not let me disturb you, my darling,’ he eventually said and bode you farewell with a slight bow before parting ways. You were left stunned. Not sure what to say or do, you just turned back to look at the sea. It had no effect and felt like a sore loser's words, but you mumbled “Not your darling” under your breath.

Had that been all? It was all extremely disorienting. Because, of course, he had meant to disturb you. He did so to your very core. That cold-eyed gaze opposed the actual warmth of his honey irises. It froze your blood. It spoiled everything about your morning.

And as quickly he had appeared behind you, so quick the captain was to disappear out of your view again. You looked around yourself for good measure, extending your neck to locker over the larger barrels standing in the corners of the deck, but he had genuinely evaporated into the early day’s mist. A phantom of the sea.

But just because he was gone didn’t mean his presence was. You still felt his eyes on you, lurking from hidden darkness. Perhaps the darkness was in your own head, inner thoughts poisoning your sanity, but the feeling remained nonetheless.

Suddenly, the calm sea was anything but. Instead, the light sky seemed dull and grey, the waves bouncing off the ship aggressive. There was nothing peaceful about it left behind. There was nothing left for you there. But you remained steady in your place on the boat, looking out ahead at the horizon until the sun rising began to burn your eyes with its bright presence, and the wind blew harder. Only then did you decide, on your own devices, to head back down into the warmer discomfort of your enclosure.

You lay on the ground and threw that thin fleece over yourself, hoping to fall asleep and thus pass on the rest of the day. But, if Lady Luck was on your side, it would be one of the silent dreams that asked nothing of you but your mind, leaving it as it was. In fact, letting you rest from the horrors that were your life.

And so, the sleep came, but quiet it was not.

Flashes of the Red Tail. Flames, explosions, blood, it was all around you. Men dying over and over again. You tried to scream out, reach for them, and help them, but it was as if your body was stuck in the mud, unable to move. So you just had to stand there, helplessly, as you watched everyone around you die.

The pool of blood expanded over the sinking ship. The sky turned dark, almost black. You looked up to see the sun–that same sun that kissed you welcome mere minutes ago at the horizon– melting, enveloping everything in darkness. Once you looked back down, another urge to scream came over you.

A figure was standing not far from you, perhaps a few feet away. Covered in the blood that the ship was drowning in, from head to toe, he was basically dripping in it.

He smiled at you, a canine-baring grin. Then, slowly but steadily, he neared you.

“Oh, we’re going to have a lot of fun, princess, aren’t we?’

You awoke with a pitched scream.

Breathing heavily, just trying to get your heart back on a steady rhythm, the clanking of swords echoing in your head was doing everything against it. Just like that day on the Red Tail. Just like in your dream. You could still hear it, and it felt so real. Each loud hit of metal against metal made you wince. Cannons would follow soon. Then the blood…

But only the swords remained. It kept going and going. Then there were the footsteps. Heavy above you, making the whole ceiling shake. It felt like a stampede, in all honesty. And there was shouting. Boisterous clammer. Followed by crowded cheers and some clinking… that you could not immediately make out what it was supposed to be.

One thing you knew for sure, however. Whatever was happening above you, it could not mean anything good. It simply reminded you too much of that other day. That first day… or was it your last?

There was a fight ongoing on the deck. The question was, what kind? Were you being attacked? Would another group of men come down the ladder steps and haul you onto another ship? Will they cheer over Munson’s death as these men cheered over Carver’s? Would this circle of hell ever end?

No, it couldn’t be that. The cheering was too joyful and—was that laughter you could hear? Yes. Loud and boisterous. Right above your head. In a chorus. Your mind went to the evenings you had endured sleeplessly as the men jested until the sun rose, but when you looked out the window, you still saw the bright blue sky. So what was going on?

Against your better judgement, you took a risk, all in the thought of showing initiative and how powerful you would look walking out of the trapdoor onto the full deck. You just told yourself that enthusiastic cheering was a sign of no evil. It indicated that it was no malicious attack of another ship, that whatever you would encounter, there would be nothing to be afraid of. With that confidence, you climbed up there, pushed the trapdoor up and–

A blade wobbled back and forth as it deeply penetrated the deck's surface, inches away from your face. You held onto the edge of the floorboards, trying not to fall back down, as the scream that erupted from your lungs halted everything around you. Everybody in reach hooked his gaze on you if they weren’t fast enough to run up to the hole you were attempting to crawl out of. No one helped, of course. They just stared. Dozens of pairs of blank and cold eyes blinked arhythmically as the bodies they belonged to stood frozen in a circle, unsure of what to do next. The blade stuck in the wood still shifted in its new makeshift holster.

Then, much like on your very first day aboard, the circle opened up to reveal the captain. He stood several feet away, and you caught him blinking slowly before approaching you. Had he been hesitant to approach? Was he, though you doubted, startled to see you?

But whatever emotion it had been to cause his hesitance, it was gone as he spoke:

‘Just in time, darling!’ The silence was broken, and so was the tension your appearance had created.

He had an almost identical sword in his hand. Behind him stood one of his crew mates, face paling despite the grimace he was trying to pull off among his peers. He must have been who the captain dramatically disarmed, ending with that sword landing and nearly cutting your nose off. Was anyone feeling guilty for putting that fear upon you?

Highly unlikely.

The captain neared your trapdoor, leaning down on one knee and reaching his hand out to you, an attempt at some fair treatment toward; helping you get up onto the deck gracefully—you boldly refused. The idea of touching him… images your mind had conjured up in the night still pestered you and flashed past your eyes at the sight of his hand so near you. You looked away as your feet touched the deck for the second time that day. You hated the sight of him any given day, but this particular afternoon, it was even more of an unbearable sight.

The captain had abandoned his hat, opting to tie his hair with a red ribbon into a ponytail, failing to do so properly as strands were already escaping at the frame of his face. His long black coat and shirt also had been abandoned. It was a hot day, and with the training, he was most likely performing, the sweat on his chest was already forming, despite the cool breeze standing a strong fight with the sails.

A ghastly sight, truly, the sweat that slicked over the countless prints of black ink on his arms, chest and ribs. The ink barely covered the various scars in the same placements. Some were small, like the nicks of a blade. The new bright red cut across his clavicle would surely join that collage. Others were unmistakably older but must have once been deep flesh wounds, possible gunshots, bites, or the results of things you most likely would not even be able to fathom. It looked like a visual of a life of torture.

You blinked, letting his previous words settle in your mind. ‘In time for what?’ You looked around. All eyes remained on you since you had made your presence known, something you had fallen out of habit with. You were not used to getting so much attention anymore.

‘Training, of course.’ Munson easily pulled the blade out of the ship planks, handing it to you. ‘Has anyone ever taught you how to fight?’

‘No.’ It was unladylike to swordfight, scuffle, argue, or do anything you did at the time of your capture. The heft felt awkward in your grip, clearly too big for your hand, but the entire piece felt off-balance. It must have been a homemade contraption of one of the Hellfire crew. Possibly molten out of the treasures residing downstairs with you. You adjusted your grip on the sword, but nothing felt right.

Nothing you did slipped past the Captain, whose eyes were on you and his crew. He pursed out his bottom lip in a mocking pout.

‘A true pity.’ He swung his blade back and forth. Each swoosh in the air made you flinch. ‘maybe if someone had, you wouldn’t have ended up here with us.’ The chuckle started deep within him but evolved into a guttural laugh from the whole crew. The sound boiled your blood in anger as well as embarrassment. You wanted to attack their captain immediately but knew it wouldn’t end well. He looked you up and down with his casual smirk, and you made it a point to, somewhat confidently, keep your head up. No longer could he think he could just do whatever he pleased with you. ‘But there is always time to learn, I believe.’

‘I don’t want to fight you,’ you simply stated, looking down at the longsword clutched in your hand.

‘C’mon, princess,’ Munson swung his sword back and forth, ‘it’s no fighting. it’s just a bit of fun.’

‘I see no fun in useless acts of violence.’ Did any of your words sound profound? Confident? You were ready to hear another wave of laughter, but it did not come. The only response was a smirk of the captain, but not one you had seen before.

It wavered.

‘Don’t be like that, my darling.’ He recovered with his mockery, but you were no longer having any of it. With large strides, you closed the gap between you two across the deck. The men around you were split in moving back or getting ready to seize you if the situation required interference. The captain was among the former group. His stance shifted backwards as you met him, your chest nearly hitting his.

Your grip tightened on the sword, and he must have noticed it by how his eyes shifted down to your arm and back to your face.

A million different things ran through your mind; there were endless possibilities for relieving your anger at the man standing before you, all being the catalyst of events that you did not dare start. What were you to do?

Your nails dug into your hand as your fingers wrung the halt of the sword. With this object alone, you could do a hundred different things, most of which would result in only a worse situation for yourself.

You struck the blade down with as much power as you could muster. Like it had hit the planks in front of your face moments before, it now missed the captain’s feet by mere inches. He looked down, never moving anything but his eyes, and then looked directly at you again. His features were blank of expression; no fear or anger, but no amusement either.

‘Call me any of that again, and next time it won’t be the deck that gets it.’ You had dared to move closer, letting your faces nearly touch. That smell of cinnamon and rum greeted you again. A few seconds passed as you stood there, eyes piercing through one another. Your blood boiling, his chest heaving with deep, controlled breaths.

He did not respond.

Or at least not until you had turned to walk away.

‘I would love to see you try. It sure is easy making empty threats, prin–’ but he never got to finish his mockery. Perhaps because it was even easier to sound confident behind one’s opponent’s back, not looking them in the eye, that angered you. The fact that the man who threw you in a cage was, in reality, nothing but a coward. At that moment, all regard for your safety escaped you as you turned back on your heel and lunged your fist towards his face.

It must have hurt you more than him, but the pink mark across his cheek was established. You did not bother to await his reaction once more and walked away for good– as far as the circumstances allowed you, which was not far. The ship was only so big, and the circle of men had moved onto the trapdoor, locking you in the fresh afternoon air.

They were ready to retaliate for your aggression towards their captain, but his words boomed across all ears. ‘Stand back! I said stand back,’ he repeated when some still tried to reach for you. You passed the crew and made for the spot you had become familiar with over the morning. Trying to ignore everything behind you, you again reached the ship’s edge. Their voices lingered over everything, impossible to block out, but you let yourself focus on the ripples in the water as your anger subsided.

Not long now. You had already been so close to home when they took you, and it's been days. Surely, soon they would reach the shore of your home and give you back to your family. That idea somehow managed to overcome everything that was actually happening around you.

Though you had slept through most of it, it had been a long day, and signs of it were showing in the sky. Now turning a soft pink and orange as the sun began to set once more, the night was coming. With it, the stars. Would you stay outside long enough to look at them? It had been a sight you had missed properly gazing at the millions of twinkling lives above you, the constellations and the stories they told.

It would all depend on the men that had now resumed their sword-fighting practice.

The casualness of it all was actually rather comforting, as it, for once, did not bring back memories of the unfortunate ship you had bid farewell to but rather the surroundings of your father’s estate. There, men like Admiral Carver were standing guard or practising, but also young boys and girls who ran away from their mothers, pretending to be on great little adventures with large twigs for weapons. For a moment, you could swear you could smell the fresh flowers that bloomed outside your bedroom window, or the spices haggled for at the market in the harbour. There were cats meowing and dogs barking. To think that once you had grown tired of it all, yearned for something new in life, but now could not imagine anything greater than a return home…

Who knew how long you had stood there staring at the darkening horizon. Your thoughts must have sent you off into the distance from the ship, as you had not realised anything happening around you. The sea was quickly becoming a comfort. When looking out at it, you did not have to face the cruel reality of the Hellfire and the people upon it. The waters seemed so inviting and freeing that you couldn’t help but think if maybe walking the plank wasn’t always a punishment…

You had not even noticed the smile creeping up at the corners of your lips, but it never came to fruition as you were broken out of the spell.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ the deep voice startled you, but you did not show it. In your short time aboard, and now being in actual contact with these scoundrels, there was one thing you had learned: To show fear to people like Munson, like the men on this ship, was possibly the stupidest thing a person like you could do. Letting fear control you would let them control you, playing right into their hand. Instead, display confidence and strength, which gets under their skin.

You glanced over as much as you could without physically turning in his direction. His long dark hair messily flowed with the wind now that he had released it from the ribbon. He was looking directly at you, making you grow hot with anger. Then, subtly rolling your eyes, you looked away again, back to the waters. That, however, did not stop the Captain from speaking again.

‘A view like this makes you think of how big the world is. How small you are.’ He held his dagger again in his left hand, twirling it mindlessly between his fingers. He was standing so close that your arms were brushing against one another. His gold and silver chains jingled at the slightest of movements. You tried to focus on that instead of his words. A task that turned out to be much more challenging than you had thought, as the Captain did not enjoy your rejection.

‘A bit of advice, princess,’ he leaned closer to you, his breath mixing with the wind. His nicknames for you would just have to lose their meaning in your head, as clearly, they were not going anywhere. ‘The silent treatment is not doing you any favours. On the contrary, my men like their girls quiet.’

‘Spare me, please,’ you hissed.

‘Believe me,’ he responded as if he could read your mind, ‘finding yourself on our ship has spared you enough,’ he let his head hang lightly askew, looking up at you with his large eyes, bemused– you could tell you had lost his one-sided game by speaking up. Then you might as well keep going.

‘Is that a threat?’ Just a reminder that even when you were not locked in a cage, you were not truly free or safe. Their danger constantly loomed over you.

‘Far from it, darling. I simply hope you know that there are much worse things out there,’ he leaned forward, forehead nearly touching yours as his hand reached out to the waters at your side to point at the waves with his blade. ‘You probably can’t even think up the horrors that live out in the wilderness of the oceans.’ What could he possibly know about your imagination? If only he knew that, at this specific moment, you were considering five different ways to gauge his honey eyes.

You turned to him directly now. His stare at you was cold and focused. The mark you had left on his cheek was now also unavoidable. It called to you and anyone who looked at him like a beacon of a lighthouse. That smile of yours from seconds before threatened to come out again, but you held it in. However unbothered he might have sounded at the strike, you did not believe that could have been it. There must have been a reason for his current approach. What you had done in front of his entire crew was unacceptable and certainly not inconsequential–you could not imagine that he had not set a punishment ready for you. And whatever it would be, you doubted it would be subtle or free of pain. Yet, you reminded yourself of the freshly taught lesson. Keep your head up. Don’t show your fear.

Not breaking eye contact, you decided to simply ask.

‘What is it that you want from me?’

And the Captain did not waste a second in his response.

‘See me in my quarters, darling.’

-Chapter 3-

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

and please support your (not so) local creators by liking AND reblogging.

I would love to know what you thought of the story, so please consider leaving a comment, or maybe an ask or even an anonymous review ;P

you are also more than welcome to join the taglist. right here.

taglist:

@nope-thanks @seventhlevelofhell @luna-munson83 @hangmanscoming @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @jaemunson70 @reading–mermaid

@spiderrrling @theglitterymess @dorianelizabeth @theletterhart @pastel-abyss-x @ghoulsgraveyard @prettytoxix @lovesickollie @xbreezymeadowsx @meaganjm @mischiefmanagers @capybergara @brother-lauren @h0sh1verse @ghostlyreads @croweaterr @ladyapplejackdnd @bilesxbilinskixlahey @kbakery @liltimmyst @hellfire-state-of-mind @escape-in-time-x @miscelaa @sweetpeapod @eddiemunsonbby @mydearzero @overthewhiteclouds @wroteclassicaly @celestialsxturn @hoe4eddiemunson @inanausomewhere @scoops-harrington @fluffyharrington @billyhargrovesprincess @annikin-im-panicin @kaitieskidmore1 @yesv01 @princess-aries @m4riesworld @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @dixontardis @nataliastranqe

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson au #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #pirate eddie munson #pirate eddie #enemies to lovers #pirate au #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #imagine #writing #pirate story

556 notes · View notes