#sniff plot line

[abvchicago]

Episode 508 - FoBABlin’ 5: Return to FoBABlin’

Chicago’s biggest, baddest and most-barreled festival is back in its 21st year, so we’re eager to FoBABble about it for the first time in four years as a lead-up to the competition. We also open four barrel-aged beers from breweries that have been FoBAB staples (and previous medal winners) to lubricate our discussions of new and returning breweries at this year’s fest, our “first pour” picks,…

[meenaxskz]

when he gets sick (maknae line)

ot8 reactions-drabbles | bf!skz x reader au genre: crack warnings: language a/n : i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to come so late after the hyung line sniff... but it was hard to come up with different new plots for each members. hopefully it's okay ! hyung line | ✧ maknae line

han

you find him dramatically starfished across the couch like he’s been defeated by a single sneeze. tissues everywhere. hoodie halfway on. hair sticking up like static electricity punched him in the skull. he sees the cough syrup and immediately goes “oh no. not today, satan.” you’re already tired and you haven’t said a word yet. “han jisung. you are sick. take. the. medicine.” “i already took medicine!” “no you didn’t.” “i took homeopathic medicine.” “…you sniffed Vicks and drank orange juice.” “AND I FELT SPIRITUALLY HEALED.” you deadpan. he sniffles. “don’t look at me like that, you judgmental nurse from hell.” you walk over. he backs up into the corner of the couch like you’re holding a weapon. technically you are. grape-flavored and vengeance-infused. “you’re gonna have to sedate me” he whispers. “because I’m not drinking that purple demon piss.” “it’s not even bad...” “then you drink it!!” “I’M NOT THE ONE MAKING DYING GOOSE NOISES IN THEIR SLEEP.” jisung makes a tiny offended gasp, like you just insulted his ancestors “I was wheezing cutely!” “you sounded like a haunted vacuum cleaner.” he slaps a tissue to his chest. “my own lover… turned against me…” you hold up the spoon. he crosses his arms like a gremlin. “no.” you sigh. you text chan. you hold the phone up so jisung can see the message: “if han jisung doesn’t take his meds in 5 minutes, i’m sending you the ‘meow meow sick boy’ compilation i’ve been collecting since 2022.” jisung stares in horror. “you kept archives??” “i am the FBI.” he mutters something about betrayal and capitalism but opens his mouth like a sulky baby bird. you pour the syrup in. he gags like you just poisoned him. “I CAN FEEL MY SOUL DYING” he howls, flailing. “I SEE THE LIGHT.” “that’s the kitchen light, dumbass.” you give him a juice box. he slurps it aggressively. “…i still get cuddles though, right?” “only if you don’t fake your death again.” he nods. “deal.” bonus: later that night, he’s fully passed out on your lap, warm from meds, holding your hand like a teddy bear. you go to grab your phone, and he sleep-mumbles: “…don’t post the meow meow archive… the people can’t know…” you smirk. too late.

felix

you’re standing in the living room, folding towels, living your boring domestic life in peace when you hear the softest, most suspiciously sweet little voice behind you go... “baby…” you already know. your soul leaves your body. you turn. he’s standing there in a hoodie three sizes too big, sleeves covering his hands, blinking like he’s never committed a crime in his life. “…what.” “c’mere” “why?” “just. c’mere.” you blink. you take one step forward. he immediately collapses into your arms. “i’m so tired…” “you slept eleven hours.” “emotionally.” you try to walk but he's wrapped around you like a weighted blanket. “felix i literally can’t fold towels with you hanging off me like a koala” “don’t need towels. need love.” you freeze. “…did you just say that out loud.” “i’m in my soft era.” he looks up at you, full puppy eyes, lips slightly pouty. “can i sit in your lap while you do stuff?” “i'm not a fucking booster seat” he climbs into your lap anyway. man is built like a cat with separation anxiety. “pet me.” “felix” “pet. me.” so now you’re sitting there one-handed folding laundry while your very adult boyfriend purrs into your hoodie and mumbles things like “you smell like safety.” and “you’re my lil mommy bear.” “okay nope. absolutely fucking not.” “my milky wuvy” “I’M GETTING THE SPRAY BOTTLE.” you try to push him off, he clings harder. “if you unlatch me, i’ll cry. real tears. emotional damage. 2007 trauma unlocked.” you freeze. “…why 2007.” “i watched Bridge to Terabithia and i’ve never been the same.” he pulls out the big guns. eyelash flutter. pout. baby voice. “can you scratch my back while i fall asleep and then play with my hair and tell me i’m special and maybe also feed me snacks?” you stare. “…do you wanna be babied or adopted.” “both.” bonus: 30 minutes later, you’re hand-feeding him popcorn on the couch, scratching his back, while he lays across your lap like a little prince. you mutter, “you’re so fucking spoiled.” he smiles sleepily. “and yet… so adorable.” you don't deny that...

seungmin

you walk into the living room with medicine and warm tea, and he doesn’t even look up from the couch. just sniffs dramatically and says, “look who finally decided to check on the dying.” “seungmin. it’s been 6 minutes. i went to boil water.” he shrugs. “a lot can happen in 6 minutes. i could’ve passed away. joined the spirit realm. you wouldn’t even know.” you stare. he stares back, wrapped in the blanket like a bitter old man on his front porch judging the neighborhood. “here” you hand him the tea. “…you think this will fix me?” “it’s ginger and honey.” “oh perfect. can’t wait to taste warm regret.” you sit next to him. he immediately leans just slightly away. “don’t get too close. i’m diseased. like a stray dog” “you’re being dramatic.” “i’m being accurate. my lungs sound like wet socks.” he coughs once. loudly. then looks at you like you personally caused it. “this is what happens when i go outside. i told you. the air is trying to kill me.” “you were at a café for fifteen minutes” “and now i’m paying the price for socializing.” he sips the tea. pauses. “…okay fine. this is kinda nice.” you smirk “wanna cuddle?” he slowly turns to you with a blank stare “…i’m infectious.” “yeah, but you’re also cute.” he scoffs. “disgusting. go date someone with a normal immune system.” you kiss his cheek. he doesn’t react, but his ears go red.he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear: “…love you too, idiot.” bonus: he wakes up from a nap on your lap, eyes barely open, voice raspy as hell. “did you cheat on me while I was unconscious.” you blink.“…what?” “you were scrolling suspiciously fast.” “i was on pinterest.” “mhm. planning your next relationship, probably.” you snort. “i was looking at soup recipes for you, dumbass.” he pauses.“…did you save any good ones?”

i.n

he’s laying on the bed, flushed, sniffling, and looking like a hot mess. literally. fever at 100.7. eyes glassy. shirtless. blanket only covering one leg for some reason. he sees you walk in with medicine and a cold compress and immediately grins like a little demon. “baby…” he rasps. “no.” “you don’t even know what I was gonna say.” “you were gonna say something disgusting and then try to kiss me with your sick-ass mouth.” “…okay yeah but in my defense i’m very charming when i’m near death.” you sigh, placing the medicine down. he props himself up, blinking slowly like he’s trying to flirt through actual respiratory distress “come here. i wanna kiss you…” “jeongin you’re going off to blow your nose.” he pouts, genuinely offended. “so what, you don’t wanna make out with your sexy little plague rat of a boyfriend??” “correct.” “wow. coward behavior.” he starts crawling toward you like a zombie but sexy??? his voice drops an octave,still congested, and he gives you his best sultry stare. “c’mon, baby. don’t you wanna… sweat together?” “…what the actual fuck.” you dodge when he leans in to kiss you. he stops mid-air. “did you just. DODGE me.” “yes because you’re sweating and breathing like darth vader and tried to lick my face five seconds ago” “THAT WAS LOVE LANGUAGE” he throws himself back on the bed like you rejected his marriage proposal. “i can’t believe this. rejected in my time of need.” you toss him the cold compress “cool your horny little forehead.” he mumbles under his breath while placing it on his face“if i die tomorrow, just know it was the heartbreak that got me, not the virus.” bonus: you go to check if he fell asleep. he lifts the compress just enough to say: “you still think i’m hot though, right?” you raise a brow. “…sick hot.” he smirks. “i’ll take it.”

⤷ main m.list ❟

DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations.Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.

[juletheghoul]

Not sure if you're up for ideas, but I had an idea for your Marcus and girl!Wife series (absolutely obsessed with it it's all I can think about)

Basically, girl!wife and their daughter are setting up a small celebration for Marcus’s birthday, or something he accomplished. Including little gifts drawn or made by their daughter 🥹 (my heart)

I had to share this idea because I couldn’t stop smiling

Absolutely obsessed with this 😭 slipping this in before the next big chapter-💕

Warnings (allusions to sex, some birthday makeouts, Marcus being a suck for his daughter, oranges being referred to as a nameless fruit -call back to him telling you they’re his fave, Marcus getting cock-blocked by his daughter, reference to sacrifices made, as was the custom for birthdays) *felix natalis is how they used to say happy birthday, or so google says*

—

Whispers greeted him at every turn, echoing through the halls of his house along with the sounds of Atticus’ cries, and Diana’s laughter. He rounded the corner and narrowed his eyes at the reactions of his family. His wife, the Sun in his sky bit her lip, gave furtive glances to their daughter who was even less covert.

“What are you two plotting?” He crossed his arms, honed his gaze in on Diana but she only looked to her mother.

“Whatever do you mean?” His wife spoke, gently rocking the child in her arms, calming him the way only she seemed to be able to.

“I mean–there is a plot in this house, and I will sniff it out.” He stalks, holding in the smile at the widening of his daughter's eyes.

“You forget that this is not the battlefield, Marcus, there is no plot.” His wife lies to him, he appreciates the fact that she does not crack.

“And you little one? Do you mean to keep secrets from your father? Who spoils you rotten, may I remind you?” He digs his fingers into her sides and she bursts with laughter, squirming out of his grip.

“There are no secrets, I have lessons!” She runs off down the hall and he shakes his head.

“You have taught her to lie to me.” He cannot hold the smile any more, and his tone is playful.

“I have taught her no such thing, it is you that has taught her to keep her thoughts and plans close to the chest.” Her eyes shine in the sunlight streaming into the room and he is, not for the first time, struck by her beauty. He would let her tell him a million lies, keep a million secrets if it meant she still loved him, if it made her happy.

“Very well. The two of you may have your plots, I will find out soon enough.” He pulls her to him, presses his lips to her temple and cradles the child's head in her arms.

-

It was hard to take care of the preparations with Marcus in the house, he seemed to hear through the walls. Diana was excited enough that you almost feared she might ruin the surprise.

“Remember, we must keep it a secret, he already suspects.” You whisper to her, guiding her stitches in the breezy peristyle.

“Yes Mother, I know. I will not tell him.” Her tongue sticks out, so concentrated is she on her work that it makes you smile. “What gift will you give him?” She asks, head still down.

“Aside from the traditional sacrifice, I have a special gift coming in–follow the line, not here, but here.” You gently shift the needle, and she nods.

“He will be so surprised, won’t he?” She smiles up, Marcus’ dimple on her face and you nod with a smile.

“Yes, if we can pull it off he will be.” She gets back to work, and you sit with her, enjoying the soft breeze.

-

He hums when you hug him tightly, sleepily smiling as you press kisses to his cheeks.

“How does it feel to be another year older?” You cuddle up close, burying your face into his neck.

“It feels much the same, I must admit.” His hands drift across your skin, sweeping from your shoulders, down your ribs to grab at your backside. “Much better company than I had in my younger years.” He kisses your forehead, pulling you even tighter to him.

“How much better?” You raise an eyebrow, lifting your head to look him in the eye. He laughs, groaning.

“Forgive me my love, I misspoke. What I meant to say was that in my younger years I was usually alone on this day, the poor company I kept was my own, or soldiers in a dirty camp. You are a goddess in comparison.”

“That does sound like an improvement.” You push him onto his back, straddle him in your bed.

“Oh it is, I am a very blessed man.” He bites his lip, settles back, openly enjoys the sight of you naked, sitting on his half-hard cock.

“I would say you are, General Acacius.” You rock against him, enjoying the pressure of him against your clit.

“I am about to be blessed again, by the way your cunt drips for me.” He surges up to meet you, the wall of his chest pressing tightly against yours.

“You are, my love, I ache for you.” His mouth claims yours, swallows the moan borne of his kiss. His lips travel down your neck, his tongue following the long line of your neck.

“How do you want me?” Your fingers curl into his grey curls, your hips swirling in his lap in an unhurried manner. He groans, big hands squeezing at the meat of your hips.

“I want you—“ the door to your chambers bursts open, and Diana runs towards the bed, ignoring Sabina’s words of caution behind her. Sheets that had pooled around your waist are pulled up and covering your nakedness in seconds.

“Diana my love, how many times must I remind you not to barge in when your father and I are alone?” Carefully, you shift away.

“Apologies mother, I could not wait.” She bounces on her heels, smiling big, looking to her father. He narrows his eyes, but smiles all the same.

“Father, may I give you my gift?”

“A gift? For me?” Why ever for?” He teases.

“Father!” She practically vibrates while you dress in your robes.

“Very well my little love, may I dress first?” He pulls her close, tickles her with scratchy kisses to her cheeks. The sound of her giggles fills your heart.

“But my gift—“ she pushes his face, smiling while catching her breath when he finally relents. “Mother helped me quite a bit, but I made it myself.” She moves towards Sabina, taking the neatly wrapped bundle from her hands and placing it in her father’s outstretched arms.

“I only guided, she did all the work.” You smile, adjusting your robes before standing beside her.

He shakes out the bundle, and his mouth falls open. It’s a snowy white toga, beautifully made, with gold thread woven through in symbols of protection. Three letters woven into the piece that would fall near his chest.

“Diana my love, why don’t you wait outside a moment, and I will help your father dress in it.” You press a kiss to her forehead and she complies, runs outside of the room with Sabina in tow.

Silently he rises, inspecting the fabric, studying the cut and the letters he’s found. He says nothing while you help him put it on, adjust and drape and fold so it sits just right. His palm presses against the letters, a curious expression on his face.

“She worked so hard on this, put her blood, sweat and tears into it.” You speak to him quietly, finishing the final draping while he feels the fabric between his fingers. With a final sweep, you leave him to open the door for her. She runs past, and stands before him, expectant.

“Diana, this is beautifully made.” He turns for her, showing her how well it fits.

“Truly? You truly like it father?” She holds her hands together, clasped together nervously.

“Like it? My darling girl I love it. It is perfect, the detail is so precise, and the letters—“

“One for mother, one for me, and one for Atticus.” She says softly, smiling a small smile.

“One for each of the members of my family. For the ones I love the most.” He crouches down to look her in the eye. “It is perfect, and I love it very much.” She wraps her arms around his neck, hugs him tightly. Emotion swells in both him and yourself. His eyes glisten and you know his heart is as full as can be.

“Felix natalis father.” She smiles, kisses him on the cheek before hugging you around the middle, and running out the door for her duties.

He is speechless when the door closes, overcome with emotion in a way you have not seen since she was born.

“I am truly blessed.” He smiles, wiping his eyes before pulling you close.

“The surprises do not stop, you must be ready to entertain.” You kiss his cheeks, “There is to be a gathering in your honour, people who love you will begin to arrive any moment.” He shakes his head in happy disbelief.

“I knew the two of you were plotting!”

“Yes we were, right under your nose.” You adjust his robes once more before kissing him softly. “As for my gift...”

“I pray it is just you, naked and wet.” He places a kiss on your shoulder.

“Aside from myself, and the sacrifice to be made to your health, your gift should be coming now.” The knock on the door signals your perfect timing, and a slave comes in with a tray of fruit.

He gasps, shocked at what the tray holds.

“Is it correct? Is it what you remember?” The tray is placed onto the table. “I confess I did not have much to go on but I sent letters to a few who I thought might be able to help me. Some of the men who went to battle with you. I pray I did not overstep.”

“I cannot believe you found them.” He peels the strange fruit and a lovely perfume fills the air.

“I have not eaten of this for years—“ he tastes it and smiles, eyes closed before offering a segment to you. The texture is much like a lemon, but so sweet, filled with juice. You can see why he loved it so much.

“Are you happy?” You finger-comb his waves back, stroke his brow with your thumb.

“I could not be happier.” He kisses you, tongue sweet both with love, and the fruit.

“Felix natalis my love.”

-

[serpentandlily]

Lost in a Labyrinth - Azriel x Reader

Lost in a Labyrinth Part III - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine. 

Warnings: angst angst angst 

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Part III

and when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun. - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The First Attempt

Poison was probably the easiest and cleanest way to kill somebody. It involved very little effort on your part, just a slip of the hand to pour the poison into their drink when they weren't looking. It usually didn't involve blood or puke unless you got one of the nastier poisons, which you never did anyways. Some of the girls were more sadistic though and well, you couldn't blame them for it. 

But while it was the simplest method of killing someone, it was probably one of the harder ones to pull off. First, faeries had very good senses, especially when it came to smell. One sniff of their drink could expose the poison in it, unless you were able to get your hands on one of the odorless ones. Those were more expensive though and Lydia and Keir certainly weren't willing to fund you guys besides your nightly rate from your clients. 

However, when you had made a trip to the apothecary in the underbelly of Hewn City, you had begrudgingly forked over the money for one of those clear, odorless poisons. There was no way anything else would get past Azriel and his shadows. 

Your heart ached in your chest as you stared at the decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart in your pleasure room. Azriel had been kind to you. He had offered you some mercy by buying out your nights and not returning until that fateful meeting at the party. And while he clearly liked being more dominant while bedding you, his touch had been gentle, soft. No one had ever shown you such care and here you were, plotting out his murder. 

But you simply had to do this. Freedom was only one dead body away for you. One more hit and you could finally wash your hands of this place, disappear to another court—perhaps one that would allow you to bathe in the sunlight for the rest of your days, something the citizens of Hewn City had never really experienced.

Kill Azriel.

Kill the shadowsinger and you'll be free to go. 

Those had been Keir's exact words. 

You had killed before. There was a time when your finger was covered in black lines, a new one added every time you didn't have enough money to pay the house fee or enough for food and had to borrow from Lydia. One every time you failed to perform for a client, no matter what they asked of you. But now you were down to one last mark. 

One for the Shadowsinger. 

One for Azriel. 

You let out a sigh, sitting down at your vanity to brush your hair. Azriel was due to show up any moment now. Ever since that night at the party, he had been coming by at this time every single night. He would buy out all the nights Lydia would allow him to before showing up. 

He never even made it seem like he expected sex on any given night. Sometimes the two of you would just cuddle in bed, whispering stories to each other about your lives. Sometimes he would come all tense and frustrated with whatever the High Lord had demanded of him. On those nights you would offer to give him a massage and listen to him complain about how much he hated his work. It seemed like the two of you had that in common, at the very least. 

You hadn't made any attempts yet. You told yourself it was because you were planning out the best way to kill Azriel. Poison, knives, strangling. There were a multitude of ways to do it. But you knew deep down what the true reason was. You had grown fond of the Shadowsinger. You didn't want to kill him.

But your wants and needs had never really ever agreed with each other your whole life. 

So here you were. Waiting for Azriel to come so you could poison him and be done with this Gods awful place. You wanted out of the labyrinth and unfortunately, this was the only way. 

No matter how much you liked Azriel, he was the one standing in the way of your freedom. 

You saw his shadows before him. They seeped underneath the door to your room like smoke. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of them before pure dread washed over you. 

Kill Azriel. 

Kill him. 

A gentle knock on your door was heard before it was pushed open and the Shadowsinger stepped through the threshold, his beautiful face illuminated by the candlelight. His hazel eyes searched the room until they landed on you and you watched as they lit up ever so slightly—the most emotion he would allow himself to show.

You set your brush down and stood to face him. Azriel stalked forward and by his body language alone, you knew the sort of mood he was in. You braced yourself on the vanity behind you as he came to a halt in front of you, tilting your head up to stare at his lethal and devastatingly beautiful face. 

He didn’t speak as he grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you with a frenzy that lit your body on fire. You returned the passion, stringing your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer to him. His presence washed over you like a tempestuous storm, all encompassing. You lost yourself in it—in him. 

You had never felt so taken by someone before. But being with Azriel was just so easy. He was a breath of fresh air in this otherwise suffocating labyrinth. 

He pulled away all too soon.

You opened your eyes, heart pounding in your chest. “What was that for?”

“I missed you,” he murmured, voice hoarse. 

You smiled up at him. “You saw me last night, silly.”

“And yet still I miss you the moment I leave.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck and your hands slid into his dark hair. He exhaled a breath that kissed the sensitive skin of your throat. 

You didn’t want to say it out loud, but you felt the same way. Every second apart from Azriel felt like a lifetime. You gently raked your nails over his scalp and you felt his body loosen in your hold, finally relaxing. 

Your eyes fell on the decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart. So unassuming. So ordinary. But it held your freedom. You swallowed harshly as Azriel pulled away from you

“Go sit,” you said to him, nudging him in the direction of the couch. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

You watched him take a seat as you moved over to the bar cart. You picked up a whiskey glass, not even realizing how much your hands were shaking until you did so. You quickly set it back down on the cart, taking a deep breath.

You could do this.

All you had to do was just pour him a drink. Just one drink. That’s all it would take. One drink and he’d be dead within the hour. He’d be dead and your bargain with Keir would be over. You would be free. 

“I need to make a trip back to Velaris before it gets too late.” Azriel’s voice caused you to jump, almost knocking over the whole cart. “I have to give my mission report to Rhys before the day is over.” 

“You mean you haven’t gone to see the High Lord before coming here?” 

“No,” Azriel answered. “I…I just wanted to see you first.”

Your heart snapped into a million pieces in your chest. You frowned, staring at the back of his head. You could hear the hesitation in his voice—could feel how much it had taken out of him to admit that. Azriel wasn’t very forthcoming, so to blatantly confess something like that…

Fuck, you couldn’t do this. Not like this. You couldn’t kill him like a Godsdamn coward. 

You grabbed the decanter and dropped it on the floor, watching it smash into a million pieces just like your heart had. The whiskey splattered on the ground, soaking into the carpet. Azriel whipped around at the noise, eyebrows high. 

You turned red and stuttered out, “Oops. I-It slipped right out of my hand.” 

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. You quickly looked away, your heart pounding in your chest. You had been minutes away from killing him. Tears lined your eyes as you knelt down to start picking up the glass shards. Azriel was at your side in a second, grasping your elbow and pulling you up off the ground. 

“Don’t touch it. You’ll cut yourself,” he murmured. “Let me take care of it.” 

His care, his concern, it only made you feel so much worse. You sucked in a breath of air, trying to blink away the tears.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, grasping your face with his scarred hands. He lightly stroked your cheeks with his thumb. “What’s wrong?” 

You stared up at him, into his devastating hazel eyes. “Why are you so kind to me?” Your voice cracked, your throat hoarse as you held back your cries. “I have done nothing to earn your care.” 

“Earn my care? Angel, you don’t have to do anything to earn my care. I care for you because…because,” Azriel paused for a moment, almost like he was debating something. “Because you allow me an escape from my duties—from my incredibly lonely life. When I’m with you, I don’t think about anything else. There is nothing you need to do for me. Just allowing me to see you—to be with you—that is enough.” 

“Azriel, I….” You wanted to tell him everything. Wanted to tell him about your bargain with Keir—about the steward’s demand that you kill him. But the words wouldn’t come out of your mouth. “I just wanted to help you relax and I’ve already messed it up. I’m sorry. Let me go down to the cellar to get another bottle—”

“I don’t need alcohol to relax. I just need you, angel.” 

You were speechless. So utterly speechless. Any words you might’ve said got caught in your throat. All you could do was stare up at him—up at this beautiful male who had shown you he was nothing like the reputation that followed him around. He was gentle, kind, and so much better than anyone you’d ever met in this wretched city. He deserved so much more than this, so much more than you. 

“Okay?” Azriel said, knocking you out of your thoughts. 

You nodded your head, swallowing down your cries. 

“Okay,” you murmured back. 

Tonight you’d give him what he wanted. It was the least you could do. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Azriel flew back to Velaris feeling lighter than he had in decades. It was probably irresponsible that he had gone to see his mate before giving his High Lord his mission report, but he had needed to see her. To feel her in his arms after the day he had in the Illyrian mountains. 

Tonight had been a blessing. She always took care of him like she knew exactly what he needed. And tonight he had just needed to hold her. She had talked him into a massage, her hands magic against his skin and muscles and then they had just laid together, talking about everything and nothing. 

He felt more rested than he would have if he had tried to go to sleep. He felt refreshed, buoyant—like he could take on anything that was thrown his way as long as he had his angel to return to. 

It was nearing six in the morning now and he knew Rhys would be awake, usually tending to Nyx while Feyre got some desperately needed rest. He landed with a small thud in front of the River House and quietly made his way inside. He paused as his shadows whispered to him that Rhys was waiting in his office—no babe in sight. 

When he opened the door to the office, Rhys was indeed waiting for him—arms crossed and his brows furrowed. Azriel quietly closed the door behind him, pulling out his report from the shadow realm and setting it on the desk in front of his High Lord. Rhys glanced down at it for a second before looking back at him. 

“Azriel,” Rhys said, “Where have you been all night? I’ve been trying to reach you but your mental shields were up.”

Azriel cleared his throat before answering. “I had a matter to attend to before I came here.” 

He kept his voice devoid of any emotion. He didn’t want anyone to find out about her yet—his angel. She was his for now. His secret, his love, his mate. 

Rhys raised an eyebrow at him, nostrils flaring. “Is this matter the reason why you smell of cheap perfume and aphrodisiacs?” 

Azriel shrugged, nonchalantly. “This matter is none of your business.” 

“Am I wrong to assume that your scent means that you’ve taken my advice?” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw twitched but he refrained from speaking in anger. “Everything you need to know about the mission is in that report,” he said, nodding towards the file on Rhys’s desk. “If that is all, I will take my leave.” 

Rhys frowned. “No, that is not all. Please, sit, Azriel. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” 

Azriel begrudgingly sat in the armchair in front of Rhys’s desk. All he wanted to do was go back to his apartment and get ready to see his angel again in a few hours. He’d once again bought out all her time slots, leaving her with no clients other than himself. Meanwhile, he tried every night to convince her to leave with him, to return with him to Velaris. But something was holding her back…or perhaps she didn’t feel for him the way he did for her. 

That was a depressing thought that he frequently lingered on. 

“What is it?” Azriel asked, wanting to get this conversation over with. 

Rhys rubbed his jaw, his striking violet eyes assessing Azriel. “I’ve been meaning to apologize for the way I spoke to you on Solstice Night. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t angry when I saw you and Elain together, so ready to make your…affections known in plain sight—especially when she has yet to reject the bond with Lucien. But I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did.” 

Azriel tensed in his chair at the memory of that night—at the cruel words Rhys had thrown his way. But unlike before, no hurt came from the memory. No hurt, no longing, no despair. Nothing. Instead, where that hole had been in his chest before was now filled with thoughts and longing for his angel…his sweet mate. 

“It’s fine,” Azriel replied, stiffly. “You did the right thing. It would have been a political nightmare had Lucien seen us.” 

Rhys nodded. “It would’ve. Especially with how many ties he has to other courts—other courts we’re still trying to repair our reputation with. But I treated you like one of my subjects that night and not like a friend. It wasn’t just Lucien I was thinking of, but you too, Azriel. I don’t want to see you hurt if you give your all to Elain and she decides to pursue the bond further down in the line.” 

“It wasn’t your choice to make. It was mine,” Azriel can’t help but say. To his surprise, Rhys nodded his agreement.

“You're right. It is not my choice nor is it my life to live,” Rhys said. “Which is why I’ve decided to rescind my orders for you to stay away from her. I just ask that if you two do pursue something together, please use discretion—especially when Lucien is around. At least until she fully rejects the bond or tells him of her own affairs. Is that reasonable enough?” 

Azriel stood from his seat. “I appreciate the apology, Rhys. But everything else is not needed. I have no plans to pursue Elain or court her. Is that all?” 

Rhys stood as well, his jaw flexing. “So I was right, then? You were willing to throw away our relations with other courts for a female you have no interest in months later? Azriel, I can’t even speak to how irresponsible that would’ve been.” 

“Well, nothing happened. You intervened at the right moment,” Azriel said, coldly. 

Rhys studied him again. “No, that isn’t like you, Az. Something else has happened. Does this have anything to do with that female you had hanging off you in Hewn City? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with a prostitute of all people now.” 

Anger striked through Azriel like lightning. 

“Watch how you speak about her,” he snarled, hands flexing. 

Rhys gaped at him with a disbelieving look. “Godsdamnit, Azriel. Are you that desperate for love that you have truly fallen for someone you’re paying to be in your company?”

“If you are truly my brother,” Azriel growled. “If you truly have my best interest in mind, then you will drop this now. I don’t need your advice or your concern.” 

“Of course I have your best interests in mind! But, Azriel, this is lunacy. I don’t know what that female has told you, but she only cares for your money. If you had any sense, you’d put a stop to this—”

Azriel lunged forward, slamming his hands on Rhys’s desk, shadows spiraling around him. 

“I said,” he snapped, bearing his teeth, his voice as cold as ice. “Watch how you speak about her.” 

Rhys’s mouth dropped open in shock and before he could say anything else, Azriel disappeared in a flurry of shadows. He needed to leave, far too tempted to rearrange Rhys’s face with his fists. So he let his shadows take him somewhere else he knew he could let off steam—the training ring.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The Second Attempt 

Azriel was laying next to you, fast asleep. Even his shadows had rescinded to the dark corners of the room, content to leave their master in your hands. The hands that were currently holding a dagger, shaking as you straddled his sleeping body. 

Why was this so hard?

You had killed plenty of males like this before. 

But as you stared down at Azriel’s beautifully peaceful face, something ached terribly in your chest. He looked so much more boyish when he slept. His dark hair tousled, his large wings relaxed, the harsh lines of his face smoothed out. 

The room was dark except for the singular candle on your nightstand, half illuminating his handsome face. He was nude from the waist up, his swirling Illyrian tattoos on display—tattoos you often traced over as the two of you laid in bed together. 

It had taken a while for Azriel to actually fall asleep in your presence. The first few times he had spent the night, you had woken up to him holding you in his arms, staring at you as though you were his entire world—like nothing else mattered in that moment but you. It had caused your heart to flutter and ache. 

But now here he was, asleep. A sign that he trusted you now. Trusted that he could sleep and not have to be vigilant. And he looked so vulnerable like this. Gentle and soft. Nowhere was the usual foreboding and threatening aura that followed him around.

So vulnerable. 

So unassuming.

So clueless that you were currently straddling him with a dagger held above your head, ready to strike. 

You blinked as you felt watchful eyes on you, freezing. His shadows had meandered out of the dark recesses of the room, slowly crawling your way—like they were giving you the opportunity to stop this yourself before they intervened.

You let out a deep breath and lowered your arms. 

Poisoning him had been a coward’s move and so was killing him in his slumber. If his shadows had any sense, they’d strangle you right here and now. You fell off of him, laying back down at his side. The shadows rescinded, the threat gone in their eyes. 

But as long as your freedom was dependent on Azriel’s life, he would always be in danger around you. No matter how much you wished to not hurt him. No matter what you felt for him. 

Azriel had to die. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Azriel had never felt happiness like this before you. Not truly. He hadn’t even known it, hadn’t known that this was something he could feel. But here he was, his heart full and his mind at peace. There was only one thing that could make this better than it was.

He ghosted his scarred fingers over your bare back, lightly touching your soft skin. You were laying on your stomach next to him, nude except for the silk sheets pulled to your waist. 

His lips twitched as you let out a tiny noise of satisfaction at his touch, turning your head on your folded hands so you could stare up at him. 

He would never tire of staring at you—at your beautiful, serene face. Your alias made perfect sense. Serenity. That was what you made him feel. Though he felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought of how many other males might’ve felt like this around you. 

The only solace he had now was making sure that you were his from now on. He didn’t care how much money he had to spend to keep you occupied with him. So long as it meant you’d be his angel and no one else’s. 

You smiled up at him and the sight was so breathtaking, he lost his train of thought. 

“What are you thinking about?” You asked in that sweet voice that melted his ice cold heart. 

“You,” Azriel replied, honestly. 

You scrunched your nose at him, your smile growing. He trailed a finger down the slope of it, watching your eyes flutter at his soft touch. 

“That’s what you always say.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the truth.” 

“You're sweet,” you teased, making him chuckle.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever described me as sweet, Angel.”

It was your turn to shrug a shoulder. “You’re sweet to me.” 

“You’re special,” he said, so genuinely that it made your heart skip a beat. 

“Am I?” 

“Yes,” he said, brushing your hair off your back and over your shoulder. “Of course you are.” 

You closed your eyes with a hum, content as he began to trace lines down your back again. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Your eyes flew open, brows furrowing. You gave him a small nod, curiously. 

“Do you…” he trailed off for a second, his voice lacking the sureness it had a moment ago. “Do you…feel this—this thing between us the way I do?”

“Azriel,” you warned, making his hand pause on your back. This was a topic you tried to stray away from with clients. You weren’t supposed to develop true feelings for any of them and you hadn’t. Not until…

“I know, I know,” he said quickly. “I understand your line of work. But I…I can’t help what I feel, Angel. Tell me you feel it too.” 

You frowned, a nasty feeling coiling in your gut. It should be easy to say no. But that wouldn’t be the truth, would it? No, the truth was you did feel it—that fiery energy between the two of you. Azriel was different. He didn’t feel like a client. He called you by your real name, knew personal details about your life. All things you had shared for some unknown reason. 

All you knew was that you had wanted to share those things with him so you did. You wanted Azriel in a way you’d never wanted anyone else. You wanted to know him, craved his presence when he was gone, loved being with him like this. 

The line between the two of you was so blurred, you weren’t sure it had ever existed in the first place. 

You looked back up at him, your eyes conveying the things you couldn’t yet say out loud. Because you couldn’t let yourself feel like this. 

But Azriel stared back at you, knowingly, like he could read everything you had spelled out in your mind. “You don’t have to say it, Angel. I just need to know.” 

You rolled onto your back, letting out a sigh. “Azriel, we can’t—”

“Why not?” He cut in. “Why not, Angel? If you…if you feel something for me then please, take me up on my offer. Let me take you to Velaris. You don’t even have to live with me. I can buy you your own apartment and anything you need. You’d never have to work again. I could take care of you, Angel, the way you deserve to be taken care of.” 

And what a life that would be. Free of this place, of this gods awful city. Free to live with Azriel. Free to do as you please. Free to bask under the sun, to see the stars in all their glory—no longer buried under this mountain. 

But it wasn’t possible. It was a dream and only a dream. So long as that mark was still on your finger, this was all you could offer him before he’d meet his demise. 

“Azriel, I can’t,” you murmured. “You know this.” 

“But why? Whatever reason or worry you have, tell me. I can’t stand leaving you here day and night. I can’t stand the thought of another having you.”

You rose from the bed, hiding your face from his sight so he didn’t see the tears lining your eyes. You quickly shrugged on a night gown, hugging yourself as you lingered by your dresser. 

You didn’t want to talk about this. You didn’t want to confront this head on. You couldn’t. Just like your other dreams, it would never come true for you. 

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew he had pushed too far but he couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry. I’ll drop it just please come back to bed.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. You should kick him out, send him home. You should tell him to never come back even if it meant you’d be stuck in this place forever without his death on your hands. 

“Please,” he whispered. “Come back.” 

The pure desperation in his voice had you folding. You laid back down next to him, let him take you in his strong arms once again. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The Third Attempt

It had taken at least twenty minutes for you to lug Azriel off the bed and into the chair that you dragged into the center of the room. The faebane laced sleep draught had done its part in this scheme. Azriel had been knocked out, his shadows nowhere to be seen. 

And now you were tying him to the chair with some strong rope, in knots you knew he wouldn't be able to undo. 

Another week had gone by with no attempts on his life due in part to your growing feelings for the shadowsinger. But a visit from Keir had you snapping out of whatever hold Azriel had on you. You needed to do this. You needed to kill him and put an end to this. It wasn't fair, it was never going to be fair but it had to happen.

Out of all the males you had killed, you knew this was the only one that would linger with you for the rest of your life. But it was a necessary sacrifice if it meant you could not only leave this awful city but this Labyrinth too. 

You decided you weren't going to be a coward about this. Azriel deserved to be looked in the eyes as you killed him, otherwise the shame might just eat you alive. It would be so much easier to just try and poison him again but you knew this was the only way it would get done. Maybe you could explain it to him, maybe he would understand. 

Hell, part of you was hoping he'd fight his way from the binds and end your life himself. Would that be a better outcome to this mess? 

You were still debating that.

For now you leaned against the wall, fiddling with your dagger as you waited for him to wake up. You had spent all last night making sure he was happy—content. You had given him everything. Your body, your heart, your mind. It would be your last gift to him. 

But your freedom was hanging in the air between the two of you and that far outweighed anything else. You had been lost in this labyrinth for far too long. It was time for you to finally find your way out. Unfortunately, your way out was through th—killing the one male who had made you feel things you'd never thought you would.

"A-Angel?"

Azriel's hoarse voice made you stand up straight, your gaze falling on him tied to the chair. He blinked a few times, still a bit drowsy from the draught. You watched as he slowly realized his predicament, that he was tied up and without his shadows. He yanked at the binds that had his arms held behind his back, strung up to the chair. 

"Angel," he repeated, finally catching sight of you, "What...what is this? Why...why am I tied up?" 

You stalked forward and he noticed the dagger you held in your hand. His eyes went wide with alarm and he stared up at you in disbelief. He tried to yank himself free again, making the wood of the chair groan. 

“What are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to do this,” you started with a sigh. 

Azriel stopped his struggling, raising an eyebrow at you. “Do what?”

“Kill you,” you said, bluntly. 

Azriel was silent for a moment before he burst into laughter. Your brows furrowed in confusion at his reaction. Normally this was when males started demanding you untie them or pleading for their lives depending on how much pride they had. 

“What’s so funny?” You snapped, taking a step closer to him. 

Azriel shook his head, his laughter fading. “You’re not going to kill me.” 

You frowned. “I am. I have to.” 

Azriel leaned back in the chair, his wings held out proudly. He had completely ceased his struggling, all the alarm gone from his eyes. “And pray tell, Angel, why do you have to kill me?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” you answered quickly, trying to regain your composure. “Not to you anyways.” 

“Well, seeing as I am the one about to die,” Azriel remarked, so nonchalantly, “then I think it does matter.”

He smirked at you, furthering your confusion. Why was he acting so…so calm?! You narrowed your eyes at him, closing the distance between the two of you.

“Why are you smiling?” You huffed, fisting his hair and pulling his head back to expose his throat. You pressed the dagger against his pulse point. 

“It’s cute that you think you’re in control here,” he shrugged, that smile not leaving his face. 

“I am in control here,” you snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re the one tied up!”

“Am I?” He drawled out before yanking at the binds again. “Ah, you’re right. I am.”

You stepped away from him with a sneer. “Why are you acting like this!”

“Like what, Angel?” He smirked at you again, flicking his hair out of his face. 

“Like I’m not about to kill you! Like you’re not about to die!” 

“I’m hoping we can talk this out,” Azriel shrugged. 

“There is nothing to talk about,” you growled, frustrated. You’d expected some yelling or shouts from him, maybe a few pleas thrown in but not whatever this was. 

“I beg to differ,” he replied, “seeing as I’m about to die, I’d like to know why.” 

“Because…you…I—fuck!” You turned away from him, holding the sides of your head in exasperation. You squeezed your eyes shut, Keir’s words replaying in your head on repeat. 

The smile dropped from Azriel’s face at the show of your distress. “Angel, come on. Just drop the dagger and talk to me. Whoever has put you up to this can be dealt with.” 

“You don’t understand,” you cried out. 

“Then make me understand,” Azriel pleaded. “Please.” 

“I have to kill you, Azriel,” you wept. “I have to or I’ll be stuck here forever.” 

“Stuck here? Stuck in The Labyrinth?”

“Yes!” You let out a tiny sob, still not facing him. “If I don’t….if I don’t kill you, I won’t be able to leave.” 

“Angel,” Azriel whispered, “Why would you be stuck here? If you need help leaving, I’ve already offered to get you out.” 

You whirled around to face him. “I can’t just leave, don’t you get it! I can’t just walk out of here like you. I’m trapped.”

“Trapped? Angel, please explain it to me. You’re not making any sense.”

“I was so, so stupid. So stupid, so naive,” you cried. 

“Just tell me what it is,” Azriel said, gently. “Let me help you!”

“You can’t,” you whispered, wiping away the tears streaming down your face. “You can’t help me. Not with this.” 

“Why?”

“Because I made a bargain with Keir,” you said, staring down at the dagger in your hand. “All the girls here have to do it. We get to work here, not get sold off and eventually we will be allowed to leave but…”

“Not without a price,” Azriel filled in the blanks. “So what do you owe Keir favors or something?”

You shook your head. “We’re given marks and targets. He tells us a name and we…we kill them for him.” 

“And let me guess, Keir gave you my name?”

“Yes, he did,” you sighed. “You’re supposed to be my last mark. After this…I’ll be free.”

Silence fell over the room. Silence until Azriel uttered one sentence. 

“So kill me.”

Your head shot up in surprise. “W-what?”

“Kill me,” he repeated, staring directly into your eyes. “If it means you’ll be free, if it means you can leave this place and have a life of your own…kill me.”

“Azriel,” you murmured. “I—”

Azriel yanked himself out of the binds, causing you to gasp. He gripped your arm and dragged you to him, angling the dagger right against his heart.

“Do it, Angel,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Kill me. I want you to be free. I want a better life for you. So kill me.” 

You stared at him, tears pouring down your face. Your hand was shaking as you held the dagger against his skin. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Azriel was giving you his permission, telling you to do it, to kill him. 

He kept a firm grip on your wrist, burying the dagger deeper so it pricked his skin. A small droplet of blood formed, sliding down his bare chest. “Do it, Angel, please.” 

“I-I…I can’t,” you sobbed. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself to push the dagger straight through to his heart, you couldn’t. “I can’t.” 

“Why?” Azriel asked. “Why can’t you?”

“I just…I can’t—”

“Why!” Azriel shouted, making you jump. Your hand was shaking so bad now, tears still streaming down your cheeks. “Why can’t you do it! Tell me why!”

“I don’t know,” you stuttered out through a sob. “I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do,” Azriel said, sternly. “You know why.”

You shook your head, sobbing. He pressed the dagger deeper into his skin. “Why can’t you kill me, Angel? Come on, you know. You know why.” 

He was right. 

You knew why.

You’d known all along. Since the moment you had laid eyes on him that night he came to your room. Something deep inside of you had recognized it and subconsciously buried it. But you couldn’t deny it any longer. 

“Say it,” Azriel demanded. “You know why. Say it!”

You let out a sob.

“You’re….you’re my mate.”

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

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[covenofagatha]

All that's left to burn (Part 3)

You're reeling from Lilia's tarot cards—who will be betrayed?

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: murder, gun play, threesome, oral sex, sex

Sacrifice. Betrayal. 

The words echoing in your head drown out the casual conversation Agatha and Rio are having. Once or twice, they look toward you and you nod, feeling like your head is bobbing in molasses, but they don’t question you. 

What if they turn you in? What if they cut a deal with the police? Who’s worth more to them: two killers from a small town or the former agent who killed an FBI director? 

You honestly don’t know. 

Maybe you could make a deal. You could say they made you do it, that you were blackmailed. They’ve been stalking you since you were about ten years old—except you killed that old woman when you were ten. 

There isn’t a solution, there isn’t a way out. What do you do?

“Are you okay?” Agatha asks and her voice cuts through the ringing in your ears. She’s looking at you with an eyebrow arched and you stare blankly at her. 

Rio reaches an arm out, fingers hesitating just mere inches from you. “You look like you’re going to be sick. Is it the pizza?” 

You might be able to blame it on the food court if you had taken more than one bite. They’re peering at you curiously and you feel your airway constricting. “Yeah, I’m good, I just need to get some water.” 

The metal chair legs screech against the linoleum floor as you slide back and stand up. You glance back as you walk away and see their heads close together, murmuring. A pit grows in your stomach. Maybe they’re plotting. 

There’s the logical part of your brain that’s trying to talk you down from your hysteria and you desperately want to believe it. Agatha and Rio wouldn’t do that to you. They could’ve killed you a hundred times since you met them. They came back for you! They want to be with you! Are you really going to trust tarot cards? Those aren’t even real. 

But the looks on their faces when you’d admitted you killed the man at the motel in Mississippi is still fresh in your mind. Shock…maybe a bit of annoyance…fear. 

But they said they would help you next time! 

Coldness slithers down your spine. What if that’s the trap? Get you to kill someone else and then call the police? Send you to prison? 

You don’t even know what to think anymore. You have a hard time believing they would do that, but maybe they don’t think you’re worth it anymore. 

The bells above the door to Madame Calderu’s Psychic Readings chime when you open it. You don’t even remember meaning to walk back here. Lilia isn’t in the room though so you wait for a few moments, trying desperately to avoid looking at the five tarot cards still laid out on the table. 

Then you hear someone talking. It’s nothing more than mumbling and you can’t make any of the words out. You look around to try to discern where it’s coming from—there’s about a hundred strings of beads in all different colors hanging down from an empty doorway. You step closer, careful not to breathe too loud. 

A floorboard creaks underneath you and the talking stops. You freeze. The voice starts again and you recognize Lilia. 

“It’s okay…it’s okay…you know it hurts a little…it’s okay,” she says and your brow furrows. There’s a loud sniff and you wonder what’s happening. Who is she talking to? What is she doing? What might hurt a little? 

But the lines of beads are too thick and you can’t see anything. 

And Agatha and Rio are waiting for you. 

You clear your throat. “Um, Lilia?” The rustling stops. “Hi, I just wanted—”  What did you want? How do you ask without telling her exactly what’s going on? 

Maybe you should leave. This was a bad idea. 

Before you can turn around and hurry to the door, there beads part and she’s standing there, looking a bit frazzled. You crane your neck to try to see who she was talking to, but the entrance is covered too fast when Lilia steps into the main part of the shop. 

“Everything okay?” you ask. 

Lilia smiles wryly and leads you back over to the table with her fingers lightly curled around your bicep. “Yes, of course. I’m just an old woman, dear, I’m prone to bouts of nonsense. Did you forget something? Your phone, your wallet?” 

It serves as a reminder that you have neither of those with you. You have nothing. You are alone with two serial killers. 

“No, I just was hoping for some clarification about the cards—”

She holds up a hand with rings on three of her fingers. “I can not give you clarification. Only advice.” She waits until you nod before continuing. “Do not allow the tarot to consume you. You might go crazy trying to understand what it means or how to avoid what you think will happen.” 

“But I need to know!” you exclaim. Lilia purses her lips and you still can’t shake the feeling that you’ve seen her before. “I could be in danger—” 

“—danger?” she interrupts, eyes flashing. “What happened to not believing in it?” 

It seems like the wrong moment for her to try to make a point and you scowl. “I need to know if I’m going to be betrayed. Will they betray me?” Your voice cracks, giving away just how desperate you are to have it not be true. 

Lilia sighs. “The cards do not lie. But just because you see what’s on the surface doesn’t mean you understand what’s underneath. You may think you know what the cards mean, but fate always has an interesting way of working out.” 

You don’t really know what to make of that. 

She sees the doubt still written on your face and sighs. Lilia turns to the table, reaches over, and picks up the Ten of Swords. The man still lies face down but the dark clouds above the shore look darker than they did before, if possible. Lilia conjures a pen from seemingly out of nowhere and scribbles something on the back. 

When she hands it to you, you see a phone number scrawled out. Even though you have no real way of calling her, the bad taste in your mouth starts to lessen. 

“In case you really are in danger and you can’t call the police,” she says earnestly and you meet her hazel eyes. There’s an almost knowing look and you genuinely think she might be a real psychic. 

“Thank you,” you rasp, tapping the card against your palm before tucking it into your pocket.

Lilia smiles softly as you begin to walk away to the door. “Good luck with your journey.” 

You stop dead-cold in your tracks and whirl back around. “A journey?”

“Aren’t we all on one?” she asks, rhetorical and unphased. You nod slowly, taking another step toward the exit, and she shrugs before snatching a rag off an end table and begins to shine a crystal ball. 

She starts whistling a tune and you give her one last look before hurrying back to the food court. 

Except Agatha and Rio aren’t there. 

Paranoid fear grips your throat and you turn around in a circle, frantically looking for them, feeling the walls closing in. You thought they’d turn you in, but leaving you here in a run-down mall in the middle of Nowhere, Mississippi with absolutely nothing to your name? 

That might be rock bottom. You’re not sure which is worse. 

Stay calm. You’re okay. Stay calm. You’re okay. The mantra repeats itself over and over until the words have no meaning and blur together. Ever since you met them in Westview, your entire life has been upside down. Nothing makes sense. You’ve become a completely different person. Do you want to be this person? Is this really you? What did they do to you? But you can’t really blame them, can you? You enjoyed it. You wanted it. You are a murderer. Are you losing your mind? That must be what’s happening. Staycalmyou’reokaystaycalmyou’reokay—

“There you are!” someone says and grabs your shoulder from behind, breaking you from the spiral. Your FBI training kicks in reflexively and you grip tightly onto their wrist, flip them around while spinning quickly so that their back is now pinned against your front, your arm holding them in place. You get a mouthful of thick, dark hair and when the person struggles, while saying, “It’s me! It’s just me!” you realize that you’re holding Agatha hostage. 

You let her go and she staggers away, turning around with a gleam in her eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t know who you were,” you mutter. 

“Don’t apologize. That was hot,” Agatha says with a wink and you feel a burst of heat in your stomach despite being incredibly weary of her. 

Rio sidles up to you moments later, out of breath. “Where did you go? You didn’t come back, we were worried. I checked the bathroom and you weren’t there.” 

That was going to be your excuse so you scramble for a new one. “I was just…looking for a water fountain. You know, old mall, I think there’s only one in this entire place. I had to walk almost completely to the other side.”

They don’t look entirely convinced but neither of them question you. 

“Well, shall we get out of here?” you ask, walking toward the mall doors. “I think we could get through Arkansas by the end of today.” They step up next to you, matching your strides, and out of the corner of your eye, you see them share a glance. 

“We were thinking,” Agatha says and you glance at her, “maybe once we get into Arkansas, we could spend the day there. Find a hotel, go for a swim, relax for a little bit.” 

“And if our little murderer needs to blow off some steam,” Rio jokes, nudging your elbow, and your body tenses just slightly enough that they don’t notice. 

Is this their plan? Entrap you while you’re killing someone? 

You try to brush it off. “No, I’m feeling okay, I feel like we should keep moving. I’m sure they’ve found the dead man in Jackson and we’re only a few hours away. We should put some more distance between us and him. Just because we’re ‘dead’ in Miami doesn’t mean they still can’t track us down.” 

“Oh, come on,” Agatha goads, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “don’t pretend like you aren’t just itching to do it again. Rio and I are.” You look at the other woman to find her nodding hungrily, teeth bared. Agatha lowers her voice. “Plus, it’s kind of like our wedding night. What better way to celebrate it than kill someone for the first time all together?” 

Nausea rises in your stomach. That’s a pretty fucked up way to put it. “Yeah, okay, let’s do it,” you whisper reluctantly, because if you protest anymore, they might get suspicious. 

They begin talking about supplies you’ll need—the murder weapon, cleaning supplies, gloves, how to avoid getting blood on your clothes—and you’re violently forced to remember just how adept they are at this. Even though they don’t have Agatha’s poisons which stopped the heart in a gruesome way and limited bleeding when Rio cut it out, efficient methods fly back and forth. You don’t give any input because you’re not very good at this part of it. 

You weren’t exactly worried with cleaning up your mess when you murdered the two men in your sleep. And Tony was a copy-cat kill, plus you had the vial of Agatha’s poison. And the woman from the woods, well. That wasn’t exactly thought-through at all. 

“What do you think, doll?” Rio asks and it jolts you out of your thoughts. Both of them are looking at you intently. 

“Oh, I’m good with whatever. Arson isn’t a bad way to do it,” you say, immediately wanting to take it back. There’s no thrill in arson, even though you think it’s less likely for them to be able to catch you in a trap that way. 

Agatha raises an eyebrow. 

But maybe if you can set things up on your terms, you won’t give them a chance to betray you. Your pulse starts to race at the thought of turning the tables. 

If you ask them to get the supplies, they’ll be on tape preparing for the murder. You can pick the house, one that’s secluded in the middle of the woods, preferably not near a police station or anything. In this part of the country, it shouldn’t be that hard. You could use the victim’s phone, maybe take an incriminating video or photos of Agatha and Rio to use as leverage if they do try anything. 

You may think you know what the cards mean, but fate always has an interesting way of working out. 

Lilia’s warning makes you pause. What if, by doing this, you’re the one who betrays them? What if they’re planning nothing like what you’re accusing them of and you send them to jail? When their only crime was choosing you? Are you sacrificing them? 

The overthinking is making your head hurt and you can’t tell what’s real or not real anymore. 

“I think arson’s a little too on the nose,” Rio says levelly and you nod, not fully hearing her. “Strangulation’s not bad. Or maybe a gunshot. Obviously not as much of a ‘crime of passion’ or as ‘dramatic’ as we used to be, but for the purposes of not drawing too much attention to ourselves…” 

“Rio’s right,” Agatha decides and your gaze snaps to her. “We just need something simple. Let’s start driving again and once we cross the border, we’ll start looking for a convenience store. We’ll need gloves for sure, hats and sunglasses might not be a bad thing just to keep anyone from noticing us.” 

You frown and try to make one last-ditch attempt to stop you from being betrayed by them or stop you from betraying them. You don’t even know which one is right at this point. “If it’s going to be something simple, why bother at all? I’m really okay and you both seemed totally fine when we made the rule to stop killing. You don’t have to do this just because you think it’s what I want.”

Rio saunters toward the car and tosses a wink over her shoulder at you. “We’re just in the mood for some really hot sex. To, you know, consummate our eternal bond. Oh, the romance.” 

Agatha takes your hand and rubs the ring that’s now painfully digging into your flesh. Ironic, you think. 

You’ll get your leverage. But you won’t use it. If they aren’t going to hurt you, you won’t have to hurt them. 

But it’s better to be safe than sorry. 

——

It’s dark out by the time you’re all ready. 

There had been a gas station just over the Arkansas border where Agatha had used up most of the remaining cash you’d pooled together before you left. Rio had gone in, jamming a baseball cap low on her head, and got three soggy sandwiches, a box of latex gloves, and wet wipes. You had given her a look when she tossed the wipes and the box into the back seat. 

“What?” she said, a bit of a snap to her tone. “This gas station wasn’t selling bleach.” 

The pit in your stomach only grew more after that. 

Agatha finally found a grocery store and you were the one that had to go in and buy some ropes just in case you’d need them. Agatha and Rio were already seen on the cameras at the gas station, they reasoned, and it was better to keep reappearances across town to a minimum. So you traipsed down the aisles, picking up rope, extra pairs of clothes, a bag of chips, and a bottle of wine. 

Getting a little tipsy certainly couldn’t harm anyone. 

Until you were checking out and the cashier scanned the wine. She looked you dead in the face and asked, “Can I see your ID?” 

You had stared blankly at her and she repeated the question. You shook your head and told her you didn’t need the wine and then she had called her manager over on the walkie-talkie, forcing you to sprint out of the store. 

Both Agatha and Rio tried to hide how upset they were and you apologized until they eventually said they forgave you. But you had to get back on the interstate and drive another fifty miles before you could stop again just in case. 

There was apparently no such thing as too paranoid. 

Rio went into the grocery store that time and walked out carrying a bag with rope, three shirts, three pairs of pants, and three sets of plain bra and underwear. 

The next batch of bad news came when Rio handed over Agatha all the money she had left and it was three dollar bills and about twenty-seven cents in change. 

“We need to find someone who’s rich,” Agatha muttered. It gave the murder a bit more meaning and importance, just because if you didn’t do it tonight, you three wouldn’t make it much further at all. 

So she’d driven just a bit further, until you got to Little Rock, and parked the car outside one of the nicer clothing stores. The engine was turned off and the three of you sat in silence, sweating, as you watched for someone who would do. 

Hours passed and you’d gotten out to pee. Rio came with you and Agatha stayed back.

“It really does look good on you, you know?” she had said, looking at your ring in the mirror. You showed it off to her, catching light on the silver, and she kissed you slowly but hotly, which left you wanting more. But Rio had pulled back and tutted and on your way back to the car, you held open the door for a man. 

He had put his hand on your waist, leaned in, and whispered, “Thanks, sweetheart.” Chills went up your spine and Rio glared daggers at him. 

Rio slid back into the front seat of the car while you climbed in the backseat. She pointed to the man who was now walking down the sidewalk. The sun reflected off his Rolex watch and blinded you. An asshole and rich. 

Perfect. 

Agatha tailed him to his house. It was a big manor, relatively secluded, with a wrap-around porch. The exterior walls were blue with a white trim, and large windows were covered up by curtains. It was impossible to see inside the house. There was a brick walkway leading up to the stairs to the red front door and there was a standalone garage behind it. 

Only one car, the one you followed. 

The next hour is spent still waiting, parked on the street, just to see if anyone else comes to his home or if he left. 

No one does, except for a blue car that drives by, and the moment the pinks and purples of the sunset fade into a dark blue, Rio opens the glove compartment and pulls something out before fastening the rope around her waist. You grab three pairs of latex gloves and hand them around and shove the wet wipes into your pocket. Your fingers brush against the tarot card that Lilia gave you and you stiffen. 

A reminder. 

The plan is for you and Rio to sneak around the back while Agatha goes up to the front door because the man doesn’t know who she is. You’ll either find an unlocked door or window or break one. Agatha will keep distracting him and then you’ll get him from behind, tie him up, and take him to the living room. That’s as far as you all got. 

Planning an un-incentivized murder wasn’t the same as when you had a reason for it. You figured you’d cross that bridge when you got there and figure out what felt right. Plus, as Agatha pointed out, it might be better to use what’s in the house. That way, it would just look like a robbery gone wrong. 

What they don’t know is that you’re going to take his phone. Even if you don’t get anything incriminating right now, at least you’ll have something. You’ll be a little less stranded. 

In just about twelve hours, you’ve gone from feeling completely accepted and loved to alienated and afraid. This whole mess seems reckless and stupid now. 

Did I choose the right path? 

You had been so certain that you had. And now you just want to cry. 

Rio waves you along once you get out of the car and you sneak up the yard in the shadows, press against the side of the house, and creep around to the back. You peer around the gutter pipe at the corner of the house to see the same man from the store wearing a red apron over a gray t-shirt and jeans while flipping a burger on the outside grill. The patio door that leads to the house is wide open. 

Rio snickers as he takes a swing of beer and spills it all over himself. He swipes the back of his hand across his mouth and goes back to tenderly poking the meat with his spatula. 

The doorbell rings. Agatha. 

The man curses, cleans his hands off his apron, and takes the burger off the grill, setting it onto an open patty. He heads inside, leaving the door wide open. You and Rio both put your gloves on. 

Rio makes a beeline for the burger and takes a bite. Red liquid pours down her chin and it looks like she’s bleeding. A heat flickers to life inside you, both from the visual and from the anticipation of what’s about to happen, even though you’re nervous. 

Your first feeling when you enter the house through the back is disappointment. He has a house this nice and this is what he does with it? 

There’s one couch facing a giant flatscreen television in the living room and posters of football jerseys hanging up on the wall. You can tell Rio’s thinking the same thing by the disgusted wrinkle of her nose. The island is fully covered in whiskey bottles and wine glasses and hard seltzers and you’re sure if you looked in the refrigerator, there would be nothing more than some lunch meat and maybe an expired bottle of mustard. 

Agatha’s voice is growing louder, maybe a sign that her conversation is ending, and Rio rummages around in a drawer in the kitchen. You’re standing guard, keeping your eyes peeled around the corner to the front door, where Agatha is gesturing wildly. She’s going on and on about how her car broke down and she lost her phone and she doesn’t know where she is and the man keeps trying to interject, but she won’t let him. You smile softly despite the tension in your body. 

There really is something about her. 

“How’s this?” Rio whispers, nudging against you and showing you what’s in her hand. It’s a meat tenderizer. 

You raise your eyebrows at it and nod, pursing your lips. “Yeah, I think it’ll do the job.” 

She hands it to you and you swallow roughly. It feels heavy and you tap the end against your other hand, imprinting the pattern into the latex. You can’t wait to take the gloves off. Your hands are sweaty and itchy. 

As you’re tip-toeing behind him, out of the corner of your eye, you see his phone resting on the foyer table. Your steps almost falter but you switch your gaze back to him and you think you see Agatha’s eyelashes flutter in a wink. 

He must notice that Agatha is looking behind him and he turns. His eyes widen in shock at you and before you can think too hard, you swing the tenderizer. 

It hits his temple, there’s a shower of blood, and he crumples to the floor with a groan. Exhilaration rushes through you and even though you think you might be in danger, you remember why you picked this path. 

You can almost feel the blood flowing through your veins, feel the fog in your head lift, feel the electricity cackling under your skin. There’s a dull heartbeat in your core that only worsens with the dark heat in Agatha’s eyes and the hunger in Rio’s gaze as they look at you, your face dotted with specks of red. 

Everything seems to be in slow motion until Agatha closes the front door and hurries over to the man, who is twitching on the ground like a fish out of water. 

Now’s your chance. 

Rio grabs the man’s legs and Agatha grips his wrists and together, they haul him over to the couch. Rio slips the rope off her torso and binds his hands together. He’s moaning something unintelligibly and you inch backwards toward the phone. 

All you have to do is slip it into your pocket. 

You hear them talking quietly about what to do with them, about if Rio and you saw anything in the kitchen, when you turn around to pick up the phone. 

There’s a click and your breath catches. Chest rising and falling, you swallow hard before pivoting and the tenderizer slips from your hand and falls with a loud thud. 

Rio has a gun pointed right at you. It’s a revolver, by the looks of it, with a long, thin silver barrel and a pearl grip. “What are you doing, doll?” she asks casually. 

“I was just—nothing, I just was going to see if he had any money,” you stammer. 

Rio takes a step toward you and the man on the couch starts to freak out. Agatha takes a piece of paper, crumples it up, and stuffs it into his mouth. 

“Are you sure? Because it looked like you were trying to get the phone,” Rio says, pointing the tip of the gun down at the end table. “Oh my god, shut up!” 

The man is hysterical now, sobbing, whimpering around the make-shift gag, and Rio rolls her eyes, turns around, and shoots him right between the eyes. You jump. 

The air seems to tighten with fear, dread, and danger. Your brain moves a hundred miles a minute trying to plan an escape should you need one. 

Rio advances toward you and you try not to cower, even as she clicks the hammer and the cylinder of bullets spins. 

“Where did you get that?” you ask. 

She grins maniacally. “At the store back in Mississippi. What were you planning on doing with the phone?” 

“I just wanted to check the news,” you scramble and Rio raises an eyebrow. You briefly look past her at Agatha, who’s browsing the living room. She doesn’t meet your gaze. “You know, see if there was anything about the man from the hotel or from my house back in Miami. Just to see if the police had anything.” 

Rio muses on this and nods slowly. “Do it quick then.” 

You grab the phone and tap the screen. It comes to life on a picture of a model with barely-covered cleavage. You ignore it and swipe up. 

Please enter the passcode or use face ID. 

Grimacing, you show Rio the screen. She takes the phone from you and calls out Agatha’s name while you lose all hope in your plan. Rio keeps the revolver trained on you while Agatha walks the phone over to the dead man and holds it out in front of his face. You wonder if the bullet hole in his forehead will cause any problems, but Agatha comes back a moment later and hands the phone back to you, unlocked. 

You open Google and type in news. Rio’s moved closer to you so you don’t dare try anything else. You can only see the first few words of the headlines and you scan them quickly for anything that stands out. 

Attempted prison break out in…

Should cops ride horses? The answer…

27 ways to use corn in…

“Anything?” Rio asks with a taunting tone. 

Shaking your head, you turn the phone off and try to keep your hands from trembling as you set it behind you. The latex gloves are killing you and so you rip them off and shove them into your pocket. 

Rio tuts and motions to the ground. “Get on the floor.” 

Heart pounding, you drop to your knees and gasp as she presses the revolver against your head. 

Is this it? 

Is this how it ends? 

Agatha comes up behind her wife so they’ll be the last two people you see. It’s fitting, really. They were the ones who brought you to life, so to speak. 

Rio’s finger finds the trigger and the thrumming inside you, under your skin, only grows worse. So close to death, and yet, you feel so alive. Do they feel it, too? 

There’s a wild look on Rio’s face as she stares down at you and a matching expression on Agatha’s. 

“You look so pretty like this,” Rio coos and your body feels like it’s overheating. 

It forces you back to the night when you found them in that house, having killed the man and the woman after handcuffing you to the bed. A gun had been against you that time, too. Your own gun. 

Will she pull the trigger this time? 

Or will it end the same way?

Your body betrays you and you feel the pool between your legs. Not only do you get off on murder apparently, you now get off on the sense that you could be murdered. 

But it’s not really about that. 

It’s about the control. 

“I think she’s enjoying this, Rio,” Agatha says in a hushed, awed voice and you bite your bottom lip, refusing to give her that satisfaction. 

Rio trails the gun down the side of your face and you shiver. “I think you’re right. Our little superstar likes the danger.” 

She presses the muzzle to your mouth. You can feel the cold metal against your teeth and your heart rate skyrockets. 

“Do you trust us?” Agatha asks and your eyes flick to hers. The vein in her forehead is throbbing and she looks like she’s losing herself in the visual. 

Do you trust them? 

Can you trust them? 

Betrayal. Sacrifice. 

If they were going to kill you, they would’ve done it by now. If they were going to turn you in, they would’ve done it by now. 

You nod your head ever so slightly and swear their expressions light up. The condensation from your muffled breaths fogs up the silver barrel. She takes the gun away for just a second to take off her gloves before putting it right back where it was. 

“Open your mouth, baby,” Rio says, the gentleness standing in stark contrast to the extra pressure she puts on your lips with the muzzle. 

Your mouth drops open just enough for her to slip the tip of the gun in, her finger still on the trigger. You’ve seen how precise she is with a knife so you’re not worried about her accidentally pulling it, but just the knowledge that she could has you heating up even more. 

She pushes the barrel further in, the muzzle almost reaching the back of your throat, and you gag around it. Agatha chuckles breathlessly and if you weren’t trained to notice these kinds of things, you’d probably miss the slight twitching in her hands and the almost indiscernible way she shifts her weight. You want them—you need them. 

Holding eye contact with Agatha, you begin to bob your head slowly up and down the barrel of the gun and Rio lets out a small gasp. It’s getting to them both maybe more than they thought but it just adds to the pulsing of your clit. 

Their darkness has threatened to overwhelm you since you were ten years old. 

But now you want it to. 

They wouldn’t betray you because you’re too much like them. You feel things the same way they do. They need this too much—need you too much. 

Just like you need them. 

Rio rips the revolver out of your mouth with a wet pop, strands of your saliva still sticking to it, and she tugs you up by your hair before pulling your mouth to hers. She engulfs your lips with a dominating hunger and you slump against her body because your knees ache from kneeling on the floor for that long. Her arms come around you to catch you and she slips her tongue into your mouth. You bite it and the metallic taste of her blood fills your tastebuds, joining the silvery tang still left from the gun. 

Agatha yanks you off her by the scruff of your neck and clashes her lips onto you, moaning at the copper hint she tastes. Rio steps behind you and pushes up your shirt and you gasp at her cold hands on your bare skin. You frantically pull at Agatha’s pants, just needing something to quell the ache inside you. 

“I need—please—need to touch you, need you to touch me,” you whimper against Agatha and feel her smirk. 

Is there a way to do this without getting your DNA everywhere? Before, they had their top-grade cleaning supplies so they didn’t have to worry about that. Now, you have a packet of wet wipes. 

They don’t seem to care. 

Agatha walks you back into the kitchen, presses you against the island, mouth never leaving yours. Rio trails after you and sweeps all of the alcohol off it, sending it shattering on the floor. You pull away from Agatha for a second to raise an eyebrow at her. 

Rio shrugs. “It’ll look more like a break-in.” 

You accept it and Agatha’s tongue is shoved into your mouth. She puts her hands on your lower back to hoist you up so you’re sitting on the marble countertop and unbuttons your pants. You help her pull them over your ass and down your legs to your ankles while she breathes into your open mouth. There’s a furious ache inside you and when Agatha slips her hand into your underwear and touches your clit, you see white. 

Someone’s hands grip your hair and drag you away from Agatha, who looks excited. Glancing behind you, you see that Rio has climbed onto the island behind you. Her legs are bare. Your breath stutters in your throat as she lowers you until you’re laying on your back on the cool marble, Rio looking down at you. 

Agatha sinks to her knees so her head is level with your clothed cunt and pulls you closer to the edge by the back of your legs. Her hot breaths against the wet fabric of your underwear make you shiver. She pulls the gusset over just as Rio moves over you, positioning her own bare pussy right above your watering mouth. You can see her folds glistening and almost fused together and you can smell her and you’d surge up and begin tasting her if you didn’t know better.

Agatha finally licks up your slit with her flattened tongue and it makes you keen right before Rio lowers herself onto your mouth. You’re immediately overwhelmed by her and you start rubbing her clit enthusiastically. She is wet. Her thighs tighten around your head and she already throbs just from the little stimulation and watching Agatha go down on you. 

Agatha’s tongue dips inside you, stroking against your walls, and you make a sound that’s muffled by Rio’s cunt. The woman on top of you gasps and her hips buck, smearing wetness all over your face. 

“Yes, fuck, doll, right there,” Rio groans, riding your face fast, more liquid leaking out of her into your waiting mouth. You swirl your tongue around her clit and you feel it pulse. Rio rakes up your shirt even more, hiking it to just below your bra, and digs her nails into your stomach. Your back arches off the counter, allowing Agatha’s tongue to get deeper inside you, and you groan loudly. 

You suck on Rio’s clit right when Agatha scrapes her teeth against yours and you and Rio both make strangled sounds. Sparks are racing under your skin, tension building in your stomach that’s been growing since you walked into this man’s house, and the pleasure Agatha is giving you is making you dizzy. Your cheeks are sticky and your tongue is burning but the fire in your stomach is roaring, finally being fed, and is there really anything more romantic than this? 

Than finding not one person, but two, who accept you, who see the darkness inside you and nourish it, who love you despite it? Maybe even because of it? 

Agatha bites your inner thigh roughly and the pain bleeds into a new pleasure, the sting of her teeth only making your clit throb even more. Your walls are clenching sporadically, hips grinding up and down on her face, and Rio is doing the same thing on top of you. 

Your mouth movements become sloppy against her but you do your best to double down and lap at her clit while occasionally moving down to shove your tongue inside her cunt. She always lets out a breathy gasp when you do and it sends a tingle straight down to your pussy, where Agatha just makes it worse. 

It’s like you’re in a whirlpool, getting sucked down into them, spinning out of control, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. All thoughts of the tarot cards are gone, thrown out by Agatha’s mouth pushing you higher than you’ve ever been, and you find it silly how nervous you were. 

“God, so good, fuck, I’m going to come,” Rio groans, writhing around on top of you, and she grinds down hard against your tongue, taking what she needs. You let out a muffled noise, the vibrations making her thighs shake, and Agatha picks up her speed too, tongue thrashing around your clit. Her nails dig into your legs and you gutturally moan into Rio’s cunt. 

She comes all over your face, more wetness gushing out, with a loud exhale. Rio still rides your face gently and you keep your tongue flattened so she can come down from the aftershocks. 

Agatha slots a hand up between your thighs and roughly pushes two fingers into you, curls them just right, and you see stars. Your orgasm hits you hard and Rio has to climb off your face because the echoes from the sounds you’re making are too much against her sensitive pussy. Agatha keeps licking at your clit and fucking you with her fingers until you weakly sit up and grab onto her hair. 

You tug her head up, a flash of pleasure running through you when you see your wetness staining her cheeks, and notice that she has a hand shoved into her pants. Your mouth drops open. 

Rio chuckles lowly as she slides off the counter and saunters over to her wife. She pulls Agatha’s hand out of her pants and salaciously takes Agatha’s middle three fingers into her mouth. They hold heated eye contact and you’re tempted to sneak a hand back between your legs. 

Once cleaned sufficiently, Agatha slips her fingers out of Rio’s mouth and dries them on her shirt. 

“Let’s check for money,” Agatha says, voice significantly deeper. You push yourself off the counter with a strong effort and pull up your pants. Rio gets dressed next to you. 

While Agatha searches the kitchen for cash, Rio goes upstairs, and you run the wet wipes over the counter in the hopes you’ll erase any trace of you or Rio. 

Rio bounds down the stairs holding a thick wad of bills, about two thousand dollars after she counts it. 

“That should last us a little bit,” Agatha approves and Rio grins while she tucks it inside her pocket. 

For good measure, you smash a window with your elbow that you wrap in one of the man’s jackets and Rio retrieves the bullet from his forehead. You definitely wouldn’t have thought of that, but it’ll make it harder for them to track down the gun now. 

Agatha raids the pantry and doesn’t find much besides Monster energy drinks and packets of ramen noodles. 

You’re reminded that men are very predictable. 

“Everyone ready?” Agatha asks. You and Rio both nod and check out the peephole to the door to see if anyone is there. A blue car drives by but once it’s out of sight, you three make a break for the car. 

“Good wedding night?” Rio jokes, glancing back at you once Agatha starts to pull into the road. 

You snort but nod. “Just how I pictured it,” you tease. 

Agatha laughs and looks over her shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure you did. Murder and sex—what else do you need?” 

Something is folded in your pocket weirdly and it’s making sitting uncomfortable. You reach in and pull it out. 

The Ten of Swords. 

Contemplating it, you chew on your bottom lip. You feel bad for doubting Agatha and Rio, they wouldn’t hurt you. You’re convinced more than ever now that they wouldn’t betray you, or sacrifice you. 

But there’s still a nagging feeling in the back of your mind. 

Just because you see what’s on the surface doesn’t mean you understand what’s underneath.

Is there something you’re not seeing? 

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[blubunz]

i just finished reading 'deep inside' and holy shitt?? it's simultaneously a breath of fresh air and something that just knocks the wind out of my lungs coz: (1) there's rarely ever sub!Leon where it's not RE2 or 4 and (2) i love a good sub!Leon fic where he's crying, desperate to cum, overstimulated, or all of the above and it ticked all those boxes Σ(゜゜) is it alright if i'll request an sub!older Leon fic again and this time it's kinda inspired by Bed Chem by Sabrina Carpenter? just a good 'ol sub fic with plenty of Leon crying, cumming, um... hair pulling too i suppose (✿☉｡☉) dw if you're not down for it, it's totally cool with me! i just have to get this out hihi >//<

-🩰 <3

holy shit thank you😭❓️❓️ I actually love sub old Leon sm but didn't expect this much love either I'm actually genuinely surprised😧 tysm I appreciate the compliment a lot !! Kicking my legs rn

Also I've never listened to Bed Chem before this ask hwat,, I'm sorry if it's not like in the lyrics but like yeah😞

《MINORS DNI!》

Tags: sub!old! leon x f! reader, leon takes over later but hes not,, dominant so i think it qualifies of him being a sub still, pet names, panties sniffing, hair pulling, edging, overstimulation, pussy so good he's going insane, worshipping (?),leon feels guilty,, so he's apologizing a lot, crying, whimpering, bending over, oral (m! receiving), porn no plot.

“Jesus, fuck—slow down, sweetheart.” Leon pants, looking down at you kneeling in front of him, impatiently unbuckling his belt.

“Thought you wanted this.” Taking his cock in your palm, you kisses the tip with your soft lips, lipstick smeared from the earlier make out session you had with him.

“Yeah, I do, but— fuuuuuuck!” He groans, head falling back and his feet digging into the mattress when you only take the tip in between your lips. You hum in content, teasing his cock with kitten licks, tongue sliding between the slit leaking pre-cum.

“Ohmyfuckinggod!” His jaw hangs open, tears already brimming in the corner of his eyes as they wrinkle up. His hips buck, shaking with anticipation.

“Oh, slow down, Leon.” You giggle, mocking him from his earlier statement, in which Leon whines in return, itching his cock closer to your mouth.

You finally oblige, however, sinking his cock down your throat and that makes his mind break, pushing his hips up in a quick but clumsy pace. He can't help it, your mouth is hot and wet, just like your pussy. Honestly though? You can rub his cock with your heel and he'd be happy to paint it white as well.

You delicately push your hair back a little, the casual act makes him feel like you're not feeling as excited as him and oh god that makes him feel so weak, knowing how worked up he is and how casual you are, despite your own cunt throbs with juices staining your panties already.

He groans when you push yourself up again, your own lips leaving his weeping tip with a lingering kiss. He can't take it anymore, he's desperate for release and damn it all to hell, he wants to disobey you. Well, you are somewhat younger, you should've been the one getting tied up and begging for him, but he respects you too much for that, too lovesick to even comprehend the thought of seeing you giving up your own pleasure to satisfy him.

But, today he seems eager to just ravage you whole. Leon groans, grabbing your wrist tightly to pull you close and picks you up.

Of course you let out a surprised gasp, instantly frowning at how he's changing the rules.

“S-Sorry baby...I swear I'll make it up to you.” Leon instantly coos, bending you over the bed and pulling your panties down in one swift motion.

He savors your heated arousal that has stained on the fabric, a deep sniff and he's rubbing it all over his face, down to his cock, fisting himself a few times before lining up against your entrance.

“Leon—!” You were about to protest, displeased, obviously, your mind is already thinking of ways to make him cry even more, but all thoughts melt and turn to puddle once that red tip eases inside your core with a loud, enticing squelch.

You shut up instantly, biting down your lip as Leon hugs you against his chest and instantly ruts into you like a rabbit, he's crying out curses and moaning so loud, already setting you to a rough pounding.

“Ngh—! Fuck! Fuck! Oh god, baby I'm so sorry—” He's crying, babbling out apologies as his hips attach to yours. “P-Pussy so good, ohmygod holy fuck! My baby, sweetheart, oh god piccolo I'm sorry I'm sorry!”

You would respond to him, telling him it's okay, that you enjoy this too and that you don't mind, but he's pounding you so good, fucking the words out of you.

Leon has to pull away from you for a moment to breathe properly, your scent overflowing his nostrils, he's dazed with lust and love for you, everything about you just makes him ache for love.

“God, yes!” His head tilts back, his fingers snaking up to your hair, pulling on it to pull your back flushed against Jim. He's breathing heavily in your ear, cock twitching inside your sweet cavern as he keeps apologizing.

“Mngh, I'm such a bad puppy, aren't I?” Leon whines, his face flushed and he's frowning from feeling bad about disobeying you. He looks like a sad old dog, you have to admit, but you can't deny he appeals to you in ways no one can. His wrinkles are there, creasing his forehead, by the eyes, near his lips, but that just makes him look hotter, acting like a young pup despite being so old.

One hand in your hair, the other one grabs one of your bouncing tits. His blurry, teary eyes can see how soft they are when he thrusts up into your pussy, how your nipple reacts to his fingers just pinching and pulling.

“Ngh, sorry baby...” He pants loudly against your ear, kissing your cheek in hopes to make you less uncomfortable. “Wanna-Wanna cum, I wanna cum inside you.” He begs. “Please, sweetheart, oh god please let me cum inside you please please, pretty please—"

You haven't spoke in so long, and your juices spilling out as you cum without warning, squeezing his cock in a suffocating way that he enjoys.

“Oh fuck yes! Squeeze my cock, please baby. Make me cum!"

Leon gasps, eyes roll up as he shoots himself inside your awaiting womb, filling you up quick. He doesn't stop though, no, he keeps going, giving you slow thrusts before slamming your face down the mattress.

More apologies spilling out with false promises, words like “Sorry sweetie, just one more, please?” are enough to let you know he's going all the way.

Leon's body shakes from overstimulation, his body isn't like before, he can't go for long, but something about you today just makes him rock hard again, already going at a fervent speed.

He's tugging your hair harder, he's crying so much that his tears are dripping and rolling down your back. Your own pussy tightens at how he's penetrating you already right after the first load.

Leon whines, smashing your lips together just so he can taste your sticky saliva, to have more of your lipstick on him, to suck on your tongue like a candy cane. While he's pounding you to oblivion, hand keeps on tugging your hair so he can trail from your lips down to your neck, leaving bite marks and hickies that you for sure are gonna be embarrassed later.

“Oh god, my angel...so cute, god you're ruining me!” He sniffles, weeping while his arms flexed to hug you closer, the better he's pounding you though, cock sliding in and out with sticky substances staining his abdomen, with a white ring coated around his base.

“Can't resist you, mngh, never...nev—mngh, ah- oh-oh- fuck fu—ck!”

His movements are getting more clumsy, legs shaking and his hips snapping forward. By now he can't even talk, every attempt at forming a coherent sentence just falls away like his tears. You can even hear his voice so shaky, so trembly you think he might pass out soon. Surely your pussy can't make him feel this good, right? Surely he won't just pass out just because of how you're squeezing him just how he likes it, right?

Only time can tell.

[strangersteddierthings]

Platonic Stobin bodyswap AU idea I'll never write. This has been in my drafts for over a year (since July 2023 per the timestamp)

Post season 3; During the season 3 bathroom confession scene Robin came out to Steve, and Steve came out to her. She knows he's bi, and she's the only one who knows. Swap starts off slowly for Steve and Robin. Little moments of vertigo where the world doesn't look right for a few seconds, that progresses to black out periods of time spanning 5-15 minutes. It's them switching bodies but it's so traumatizing (they are FREAKING out) that they don't remember it. So, it's like they're just losing moments in time, which still freaks them out.

Then one day they wake up and they're... each other. And they just don't go back.

And Steve can't really pass as Robin to her parents but thankfully they just blame it on 'moody teenage angst' and "you can talk to us about anything babygirl we love you so much and we're here when you need us." Which. Yeah, Steve cries about. But it also comes with the side of GOD FUCKING DAMMIT I HAVE TO FINISH HIGH SCHOOL AGAIN??? I CAN'T PLAY THE TRUMPET ROBIN YOU HAVE TO DROP OUT OF BAND

And Robin also cannot pass as Steve at first, but she gets to see how that matters exactly 0% because the Harrington's don't even notice. They also aren't around near as much as Steve makes them out to be. But she does get to enjoy the freedom of a legal drivers license and no job currently. HOWEVER she has walked Steve's pretty face into several doors/poles/walls because cute girls keep looking at her with hunger in their eyes and she doesn't know how to handle this.

(It makes more girls interested in a suddenly shy, stumbling, nervous Steve because those girls think they're the reason Confident Sex God Steve turns into a mess but really it's just Robin not knowing how to exist in a world where woman want her and fish fear her (sorry bad joke))

Anyway, queue shenanigannary for a bit. Steve encourages Robin to go on dates because why not get some practice in while they wait to swap back again? (he's holding out hope)

Do they have the awkward discussion of 'what are the limits to what I'm allowed to do in your body????? I dunno yet.

Anyway, Robin goes on dates. ((Does she end up going on a date with Vickie? Canonically Vickie's got no problem dating older boys? How to solve this plot line for when(if?) they switch back bodies? IDK dudes, that's Future Jess's issue.))

At some point, the gang finds out. Probably Dustin realizing Steve isn't as Steve-like as usual. He'd sniff out something was wrong with his brother for sure.

But then season 4 starts. Robin taught Steve how to play the trumpet back in August/Sept and it's then they realize that they kind of share their knowledge? Like... Steve picks up how to play the trumpet EASY. At first they think it's just Robin's body using muscle memory but then Robin realizes she knows things only Steve should.

Anyway, Steve is in band with Vickie the night of the Championshipgame, chatting easily while also trying to hint that 'Hey, I think Steve Harrington is checking you out???" while trying to tell Robin with telepathy (that they don't have... yet? Decide if they end up with telepathy later) to try and subtly check out Vickie. But neither girl is subtle so they both just whip around to stare at each other and Steve is facepalming.

NO WAIT. DO I MAKE CHANGES TO THE NARRATIVE BECAUSE IF STEVE IS IN HIGH SCHOOL AGAIN, THERE IS NO WAY HE'D LET DUSTIN AND MIKE SKIP OUT ON THE CHAMPIONSHIP GAME. Maybe??? Will decide on this point later. Until then, above points stay.

Anyway, Chrissy still dies (sorry) and Eddie's still on the run, but like this time in the boathouse, Robin invites Eddie to stay at 'his' big empty house 'cause the parents are gone and Robin has no hangups about Eddie like Steve did in canon (he is the first person we hear call Eddie The Freak).

The end point here is that Robin, Steve, and Eddie spend A LOT of time together at Steve's house and then the angst falls in because Steve starts to fall in love with Eddie.

So, he has a breakdown in a bathroom with Robin about it, all sad and crying like "I really fuckin' like him Robs, but I can't- there- we can't-"

"I need you to take a breath and tell me what the issue is," Robin says.

"I like him Robs, but this is your body. I can't take things from you. Like your first kiss. And I certainly can't- I won't put your body through... you know. I can't do that to you."

And it takes Robin a moment to process what he means. Romantic entanglements that Steve might want to have would have to happen with her body. And maybe Robin isn't sure what to say/do because the thought of a guy and his dick anywhere near her body immediately freaks her out but... she's not in her body. She's in Steves, and has been doing things with girls in it. It never occurred to her that Steve might want to get hot and heavy with a guy in her body and maybe she's got something to unpack there???

Anyway, no time to worry about that. Vecna's gonna kill Max so they gotta go. Also, Eddie does NOT know about the body swap.

She does tell Steve to kiss Eddie, though, in the end. When they're not sure they'll live. So, Eddie calls out to Steve. "Make him pay." So, to Eddie, it looks like Steve gives him a nod and it's Robin who marches up, grabs his face, and plants one on him. Robin(Steve) doesn't stick around long enough for Eddie to kiss back (Steve wants him to because he wants a proper kiss from Eddie, but he also doesn't want him to because Eddie thinks he's kissing Robin and if he kisses back it means he likes Robin, not Steve, so Steve doesn't lock lips long enough find out).

Something something they all survive and then Eddie, hopped up on pain meds in the hospital, demands to speak to Robin. So, Steve slinks in, afraid of what's going to happen, and Eddie's like 'Robin. I appreciate that you like me but you are unfortunately a girl and I am not into that.' And Steve is like!!! my time!! It's come!!! I HAVE to get back to my body.

And then at some point they switch back. Maybe El doing some mind fuckery? Idk.

And for fun, here's the beginning of the fic that idea written out:

"Whoa," Steve blinks rapidly as the world tilts and shifts. It's very sudden, and over just as quickly as it started, but it still leaves Steve unanchored for a moment. It was probably brought on by the concussion he's been nursing these last two days, since the whole Starcourt shit. He leans sideways to try and use the wall as an anchor until everything feel right again.

He should, probably, be more concerned about this because this has been like, the fourth time this has happened and when he told Robin about it, she confessed it was happening to her, too. That Owens guy had told them there could be unknown side effects to whatever the fuck they'd been injected with and this might just be part of that. It'll fade, Steve's sure, as the days go on. Never mind that it has been happening more lately. It's going to fade. It has to.

Except, it doesn't. The sensation of be unanchored gets worse, and now it comes accompanied with loss of time. Steve will feel the tilt and shift while standing in the doorway to his room and the next thing he knows he's got a hand on his front door, keys in his hand, and doesn't know where he was trying to go.

Ring Ring

Steve shakes his head, shakes away the feeling of wrongness and goes to answer the phone. "Harrington residence, Steve speaking."

"Steve! Steve, it's getting worse!" Robin's voice sobs at him from the other end of the phone. "I-I was in the kitchen and then I was, like, huddled in the bathroom and I don't remember going there."

"Fuck, me too. I just came to standing at my front door, about to leave but I don't remember getting there, or where I was planning to go," Steve confesses back. It's strange, how easily Robin has become a part of his life. He was expecting her to not want to be withing five miles of him ever again, after what he got her dragged into, but it seems Robin isn't scared away. Perhaps it's just that he's the only other person she knows who went through Russian torture. Even if that is the case, Steve'll take it. He likes Robin a lot.

"Should we... call Dr. Owens?" Robin sounds so small when she asks.

"I don't want to," Steve confesses but doesn't elaborate. Calling Dr. Owens means admitting that something is wrong wrong. Steve doesn't want anything to be that wrong. He wants to get back to his life. He's got to get back to job searching, too, and Dr. Owens might deny him that.

[musings-of-a-rose]

My First, My Last, My Always - a PedroStories Secret Santa Exchange Event

Pairing: Francisco “Frankie” Morales x f!reader

Word Count: 2751

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: @prolix-yuy My beloved LJ - when I got your name, I literally squeed! And then felt an immediate sense of “omg will I be able to write something worthy of her?” I thought and thought about what to write for you and then I had it. I have had this idea for a Frankie fic since I started posting back in late 2021, but I’d never written it. I even had a name for it and a plot line! Now I know it’s because I was saving it for you. Have a very happy whatever you celebrate and know that not only are you extremely talented, you are one of the nicest people I’ve had the pleasure of knowing.

**This is for the @pedrostories Secret Santa exchange event!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

I met Frankie when we were 5. I had just moved to the neighborhood, in the middle of summer. Which meant no school, so no way to make friends. A few days later, as my parents were unpacking, I sat on the couch, leaning on the back of it to stare out the front window. To my surprise, on the front porch of the house across the street from me sat a boy. He had his head in his hands and looked a little sad and lonely, his brown hair and loose curls sticking at odd angles, like he had woken up and come outside. 

“Mom, can I go say hi to the boy across the street?” I ask, already getting off the couch. 

My dad glances through the front window, seeing the boy on the steps. “Sure. See if he wants to play soccer.” He tosses me a soccer ball that he had just unpacked, which I miss. 

I grab it and head outside, walking straight towards the boy. He doesn’t seem to pay me any mind until I’m on his lawn. He looks up at me, furiously wiping at his eyes. 

“Hi!” I say, smiling at him. 

“H-hi,” he replies, his eyebrows furrowing together.

We sat there in silence for a few moments. “Do you want to play soccer?”

He sniffs. “Yeah, sure.” He stands, coming to meet me in his yard. We end up just kicking the ball back and forth for a minute. His shoulders are still slumped, like he’s carrying something heavy. I stop the ball with my foot, taking a step closer to him.

“Are you ok?” I ask, my face full of concern.

“ ‘m fine,” he mumbles. 

“It’s ok if you’re sad. I am too,” I confess. He looks at me, cocking his head.

“You’re sad?”

I nod. “Yeah. We just moved here. My dad got a new job. I had to leave my friends.”

He nods. “Sorry about your friends.”

I shrug. “Thanks. So are you ok?”

He looks at his house and then back at me, coming closer. “I don’t even know you.”

I tell him my name. “But call me Rea.”

“Frankie….my parents fight a lot. Sometimes it’s too loud. I come out here to get some quiet.”

“Oh. Well, if you want, you can come over to my house whenever you need to get away.”

His eyes widen, filling with a light I hadn’t seen yet. “I can? You mean it?”

I nod, a smile forming on my face. “Yeah! We can play games, my mom makes great snacks, and my dad is building me a treehouse soon!”

From that day on, Frankie and I were inseparable. We lucked out in being placed in the same classroom that fall, Frankie taking me on a tour of the school. He told me what bathrooms were stinky and what kids were mean. He came over pretty much every day, my parents taking an immediate liking to him when I came back home with him. I did overhear them saying something about that poor boy, but they never complained. Frankie was there for family game night, pizza night, and movie nights. My parents took him to the county fair with us, the zoo, and our weekly trips to the library, where I would get every book they had on drawing and Frankie would pick out books on flying. He once told me he wanted to be a pilot. 

Middle school is pretty much the first time we spent away from each other, since some of our classes were different. He took shop and I took art, trying to hone my skills as an artist as it brought me so much joy. I don’t know how I would’ve survived middle school without his presence, his strength to help me through a really rough transition time. He would claim it was all me supporting him, but I think we just work well together.

In 8th grade, Frankie came over for pizza night as usual, us heading out into our treehouse after to hangout and watch a movie on a tv I had carted up there with a long extension cord. It had a vhs player in it and so we would watch whatever we could rent. We settled down and got comfortable, a bowl of popcorn between us. 

“Hey, Rea?” Frankie looks nervous, not quite looking at me. 

“Yeah?” My words are garbled because of the popcorn in my mouth.

He clears his throat, still not looking at me. “Have you kissed anyone yet?”

I stop chewing. I had wondered if the boys talked like the girls, as that’s all they could talk about. Kissing boys. I hadn’t thought about it at all, until it felt like I was the only girl who hadn’t kissed anyone yet.

“Uh…no. You?” My stomach fluttered like it had butterflies in it and I didn’t know why. 

“N-no.” We sat there for a moment, the movie continuing on in the background. “Maybe we could kiss each other? So we could say we did it?”

My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest. I hadn’t felt like this before, other than the time Frankie took my hand at the fair and guided me through the haunted mansion that we’d been through a dozen times a few weeks back. 

“Oh. Uh, y-yeah.” 

Frankie sits up, finally looking at me. “You sure? I just thought since we knew each other it wouldn’t be weird.”

I sit up too. “Yeah. Makes sense.” 

After a few awkward body shifts, he pressed his lips to mine and the butterflies in my stomach went wild. And when he broke the kiss I’ll admit, I was more than a little sad. His face still close to mine, he gave me a small smile, those dimples on display.

“There. Now we’ve each kissed someone.”

I didn’t realize it at the time, but that first kiss was when things changed, I think. We started high school that next year, our schedules separating us further. Frankie joined ROTC (Reserve Officer’s Training Corps) and I joined the art club, my parents surprising me with private instruction from a local artist that I admired. We still saw each other at lunch, and he was still over at our house more often than not, these days more because of whomever his mom was currently dating. But everything felt…different. I brushed it off, not knowing how to put it into words.

Then, our senior year, Frankie came to me with another proposition. Neither of us had been intimate with someone else, and who better than someone we know and trust? The boys had been talking about it and the girls had definitely been talking about it. I wasn’t against the idea of sex. I just never got around to it. So when Frankie proposed the idea at our weekly movie after pizza night, I agreed, that familiar butterflies in my stomach feeling coming flooding back. 

In true Frankie fashion, he came prepared and had studied. He set up the treehouse with extra cushions and candles, putting flowers everywhere, with some music in the background. He already knew about protection and knew how to use it, shyly admitting he had asked his friend Santi how to put one on. Frankie was gentle with me, making sure I was ok as we both shared this experience. After, we laid together in the blankets, Frankie holding me to his side as his fingers traced the skin on my hip, both of us content to just be with the other. 

Things didn’t technically change between us, aside from another romp or 2 in the hay, so to speak. I didn’t understand why he never asked me out until a couple months later, when he told me he signed up for the army. 

“Go to college, Rea. Get that art degree and make millions off your drawings. You’re amazing.”

And while I shed many tears, I did just as he asked, even driving him to the airport on his way to basic, where he gently kissed me and told me to live my life, but don’t forget to write. 

I wrote to Frankie often, chronicling my college life as he told me about his, once his time in basic training was up. We still had weekly calls where I would tell him about my drawings, and he would tell me animatedly about learning to fly helicopters and also that his friend Santi was with him too. 

I was the first one he told about going for a special forces group, Delta Force, and his acceptance there. Santi’s too. Sometimes it would be a few weeks between us chatting, but I understood. He was dealing with literal life and death scenarios. Or at least preparing for them. 

I picked him up every time he came home from tour, sometimes with a girl on his arm. I’ll admit the first time I saw it, a part of me envisioned leaping on the poor girl and tearing her eyes out. But I had remind myself that he was overseas and I’m sure it gets lonely and I’m glad he had someone to comfort him, no matter how much I wished it was me. I dated too after that, the longest one sticking around for about 8 months before I caught him cheating on me with his secretary. Which is incredibly cliche of him. 

I eventually graduated with an art history degree, getting a job at a local art gallery and selling my own drawings on the side. It was a pretty awesome deal, getting to work and do the thing that I love. I sometimes worry it would end badly, mixing business with pleasure. But it ended up being the opposite. 

Frankie and I still talked, but over the years our calls became less and less frequent. Sometimes I was away on an art bid and other times he was on a mission, gone for weeks at a time. He would still check in from time to time to at least let me know he was alive. His absence left a hole in my heart though. He was my one constant through life, the person I could share anything with, my first for a lot of things. The few words we did exchange helped me to get to the next call, which I know is unhealthy, but not matter what I did, I couldn’t fill the void he left behind. 

Present Day

“Are you sure you’ll be ok?” My mom asks me for the millionth time. 

I chuckle into the phone. “YES mom. You guys won a cruise! Go celebrate Christmas on the high seas. I’ll come visit when you get back.”

“Well…if you’re sure. I- no! You will absolutely NOT be wearing a speedo on the cruise! Rea I have to go talk some sense into your father. We’ll call you when we get back.”

I laugh this time. “Have fun mom.” In the background before I hang up, I hear my father playfully yell. “Hey! Give me back my man panties!”

My laugh turns into a sigh as I look around my condo. I had been packing to head to my parent’s home in the morning to spend Christmas Day and a few days after with them. I unpack and head into the kitchen, pulling out a couple of steaks to rest before cooking them. I’ll make extra and then not have to cook on Christmas. Sounds like a plan to me. I make some hot chocolate and settle on my couch, a thick Christmas themed blanket thrown over my legs. I’m about to take a sip when I hear a knock at my door. I set my mug down and toss the blanket off. My neighbor is a little senile and sometimes locks herself out of her apartment. In one of her clear moments, she gave me a spare key to let her into hers, in case it was during a time when her nurse wasn’t around. I unlock the door and open it, her name poised on my lips. But instead I’m met with the biggest, brown puppy dog eyes that I’ve ever seen. 

“Hey, Rea. You’re home.”

Shocked. I am stunned. “I..y-yeah. So are you?” Nice. Good one. 

He smile, those dimples showing off as he rubs at the back of his head, the Standard Oil Heating cap I’d given him from our road trip across the state still on top. “Yeah.” It’s quiet for a moment. “Can I come in?”

“What? Oh. Yeah! Come in.” I step back to let him in, giving him extra space for the bag slung on his back. He sets it down just inside the door, kicking off his boots too. 

“Are you ok?” I ask him, noting the scar on the bridge of his nose and a fresh cut on his cheek. 

“I am now.” Silence between us, like we haven’t talked our entire lives. Although it had been a few months since I’d spoken to him, outside of my unanswered letters. 

“Did you want some-” I start, hitching my thumb over my shoulder to point towards the kitchen. 

“I almost died.”

A hole opened in my stomach and my heart fell right into it. “What?”

He nods, taking the cap from his head to wring it between his hands, but not before running his fingers through those soft brown curls. “I can’t give you details. Classified. But I almost died. I mean, I saved us all, but if I hadn’t moved my head…”

“Oh Frankie!” I throw my arms around him, the time that we hadn’t talked dissolving in an instant. His arms wrap around me, his face pressing into my hair. 

“I love you, Rea.”

“I love you too, Frankie.”

“No,” He takes a breath. “I’m in love with you.”

Those familiar butterflies that only he seems to put there come back, like they’d never left. I break the hug and take a step back, trying to look at his face. Surely he’s kidding right? This is all some joke that I don’t understand?

“We were spiraling and the engines wouldn’t cut back on and all I could think about was you. How I had this amazing friend in my life for most of my life who never judged me for where I came from or what I wore, who always supported me no matter what, who let me get pineapple on my pizza even though she hated it just because she knows I like it. She always saw me for me. And how I was so fucking stupid for never seeing it before and yet, somehow knowing I’ve been in love with you since that first kiss. I made a promise that if I got out of there alive, the first thing I’d do is come tell you, in person how I feel. And I know it’s sudden, and I know you may not even feel the same. Hell, I don’t know if you even have a boyfriend. I know I’ve been a shitty friend lately, but I-”

I grip his shirt and pull him to me, pressing my lips to his. For a moment, he doesn’t move, shocked by my reply. But then he snaps out of it, his hands coming up to cup my face as he presses his tongue against my lips. I part mine every slightly, whimpering slightly when he pushes his tongue past my lips. One hand drops from my face, outstretched behind me as he walks me backwards, his hand hitting the wall before he pushes me up against it, that same hand cupping my face again before tracing down my body to squeeze at my hip. I wrap my leg around him, pulling him closer as my fingers tangle in his soft curls. But then he pulls back, just enough to look me in the eyes. 

“I take it this means you feel the same?” He’s smiling, but he’s also serious. 

“I’ve been waiting for this since our first kiss. But I don’t think I understood it then.”

Frankie groans. “What a stupid couple of assholes.” We chuckle together, his nose brushing against mine. 

He smiles, his eyes getting that big puppy eye look to them. “So you’ll be my first and my last?”

I smile back. “As long as you’re mine.”

Within a few months, we’re married. Our first, our last, and our always.

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe

@greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @icanbeyourjedi  

@wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso  

@theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz 

@gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox 

@amneris21 @gooddaykate @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed  

@ladykatakuri @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol  

@mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry 

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk 

[milf-murdock]

Safety First

(AKA: The one where Simon views “the law” as a relative term when it comes to your safety)

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Civilian!Reader 

Summary: After a scare involving a break-in at your flat, Simon decides to take extreme measures to ensure your safety—including getting you an illegal firearm and teaching you how to use it. What he doesn’t expect is just how turned on he is by watching you shoot it. Warnings: potential break-in scenario described, protective Simon to the rescue, use of a firearm, descriptive use of firearm, smut (I promise there is a plot here though it just….devolved into smut because I have no self control), P in V, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex, sliiiiiiight breeding kink, praise kink (really exposed myself with the number of “good girls” here👀), no mask Simon because civilian life, mate 😌  A/N: I had a lot of fun with this. It just seems so very “Simon” to me. He would have exactly 1 (one) incident where he gets scared shitless that something has happened to you, and he would pull every last goddamn string necessary to get your trained up on a handgun to make sure you can defend yourself always, even when he’s not there. Personal firearms are very much illegal in the UK but you can’t tell me the 141 boys aren’t packing at home. Simon Riley?? Leaving weapons behind?? Be so fucking for real.

Your grip on the shopping falters, nearly dropping the heavy container of milk. Your body freezes as you take in the sight before you, immediately on high alert. The front door stands ajar.

Someone’s broke in, your anxieties speak for themself. Images flash in your mind at a rapid pace, escalating in concern: men ransacking through your things, hiding out, waiting for you, strong foreign hands on your body—your shaking hands have your boyfriend’s number dialed before your imagination dares to unfold any further. You drop the shop bags on the floor, backing away from the door and down the hall of your complex.

“Hey—“ the deep  familiar baritone is immediately cut off by your sobs. 

“Si-Simon?” You choke out his name between your gasping breaths. You try to steel yourself, but the tears have already started.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Simon’s voice instantly hardens, shifting to one of action. 

The tears are relentless now, and you try to force them at bay to respond. 

“Answer me, love, are you hurt?” Simon’s voice raises ever so slightly in pitch. 

“N-not hurt,” you gasp out. “It’s my flat. The door’s open. I know I locked it—at least I think I locked it, I went to the shop, I needed more milk, remember? I was only out for a bit—“

“Breathe, babe. Breathe.” You can hear the jingle of keys in the background of the call. “Listen to me very carefully, love. You turn around right now and get back in your car. Lock the doors. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right there.” 

You sniff, thankful the tears seem to have finally subsided. You’re already put slightly more at ease knowing Simon is on his way. “Okay,” your voice waivers. “I can do that.” 

“‘Course you can. Now stay on the line with me until you get to your car.” You hear his car door slam in the background. 

__________________

Simon turns the 20 minute drive to 7. 

His sharp tap on your window startles you, sending your heart racing once again. 

“Stay ‘ere, love. Be right back.” Simon’s voice is muffled through the window, but you nod in response. 

Simon makes his way up the stairs to your flat, pulling his concealed weapon to his side and subtly shifting the safety off. The heavy weight of the cold metal is familiar as he cocks the weapon, preparing for a sweep. The motion is as natural as breathing for him. He gently toes open the door, immediately pulling his weapon at attention as he scans the room for threats. “Clear” Simon thinks to himself. Some habits are too deeply engrained. 

He makes his way through your flat, thoroughly checking for anything amiss. Once he’s satisfied that everything looks clear, he disarms the weapon, clearing the loaded round from the chamber and clicking the safety back on. The gun gets tucked back safely against his body, concealed from sight as he makes his way back out to your car. 

Simon gives you a brief nod, signaling all was clear. At that sign, you fling the car door open and throw yourself out of the car, instinctually trusting those strong arms to catch you. 

The moment your face is buried in the broad expanse of his chest, his familiar scent hitting you like a freight train, the tears well up once more. 

“S-sorry, I was just so freaked out,” you stutter, unsure if Simon could even understand you with your face pressed against him, but unwilling to untangle yourself even a bit. 

“Shh, it’s alright swee’art,” Simon murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as his hand rubs soothing circles on your back. “I scoped out the whole place. It’s clean.” 

He could feel the relief in your body as you took in his words. 

“You sure you locked the place up, babe?” Simon treads lightly, not wanting to upset you further. “It didn’t look like anybody had been in. Could’ve just been a draft knocking the door open if it wasn’t shut and lcked properly.” 

You pulled your head back from Simon’s chest, fumbling with the edge of your jumper to gently wipe the tears and snot from your face, sniffling. 

“I’m sure I locked it.” You pause for a moment. Well, at least you think you’re sure. You think back to when you left your flat, hands juggling your keys, your purse, distracted by your neighbor and his adorably fluffy Pomeranian who were leaving at the same time. Mr. Darcy immediately demanded your attention, of course, and who were you to deny him all the fluff-filled pets his heart desired? Embarrassment curdles in your stomach, a heat creeping up into your cheeks. 

“Well, maybe not absolutely sure…” you correct yourself. “I think I did, but Mr. Darcy was out, and I got distracted, and I just needed some milk for my tea, and I—“ 

Simon took you back in his arms, cutting off your monologue. “Ahh, Mr. Darcy, you said?” He knows your fondness for the small Pomeranian well, especially after the last time you dog sat for them and insisted Simon make friends with the blasted pup. “That would explain it.” 

“I’m sorry if I overreacted,” you sigh, shame replacing the fear. “I shouldn’t have called you.” 

“Oi-“ Simon is quick to cut you off. His strong hand grips your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “You did the exact right thing. Any time something feels off, got a bad feeling from some bloke at the pub, walking out by yourself in the dark, I don’t care what it is or when it is—you call me. Understood?” 

“Understood.” You sniffle once more. 

“Let’s get back inside and get you that cuppa,” Simon soothes, one hand pressed to the small of your back as he guides you back inside your flat. He stops to grab the forgotten shop bags off the floor with one hand. 

__________________

You two are getting ready for bed, having convinced Simon to spend the night—not that it took much convincing. Simon watches as you parade around the bedroom in one of his oversized t-shirts, toothbrush in your mouth as you walked around getting ready for bed. It’s in these little moments he realizes how truly in deep he is. He’d give his left fucking arm to have this view daily. 

“Thanks for coming to my rescue today,” you quip, exiting the bathroom and sliding into bed next to him. “And for agreeing to stay the night.”

“‘Course, love.” Simon opens his arm and lets you get into your designated spot, head on his chest, leg tangled over his, hand resting on his stomach. “Woulda probably stayed the night anyways.” 

“Yeah, but still…” you let out a sigh as you settle in, curving your body against his. The warmth of his body heat warms your chilled frame. 

“I was so scared.” Your voice is a whisper in the dark. “I just kept imagining the worst possible scenario. What if I was home? Alone? And someone did break in? What if you weren’t here? What if you were overseas?” Your breath hitches and your heart rate picks up again. Simon resumes rubbing soothing circles across your back. 

“I just felt so helpless. So defenseless.” 

“You’re okay.” His voice was low, steady. “Everything worked out okay. You’re safe. I’m here. You’re safe.” 

Between the repetitive soothing motion of Simon’s strong hand against your back and the steady rhythm of Simon’s heartbeat, sleep soon found you despite your fears. 

As your breaths evened out, Simon’s own mind starts swirling with dark thoughts. The what if’s find purchase in his brain and he subconsciously pulls your sleeping form even closer to him.  

You were right, of course. He couldn’t always be here. He had to find some way to make sure you could take care of yourself, to make sure you could defend yourself. He had to know you were always taken care of, no matter where he was. 

Of course he had already walked you through the basics of self defense. You had a decent right hook, and he more than appreciated the opportunity to teach you a few other moves that had the two of you sprawled on the floor of your sitting room, sofa pushed up against the wall to create enough space. If his memory served him correctly, that particular little sparring session had resulted in an entirely different from of…wrestling.

But none of it was enough to put his mind at ease. Simon knows that if someone truly meant to do you harm, someone from his line of work…all the moves in the world wouldn’t help you. He wouldn’t want you getting close enough for that kind of combat anyways.There was only one thing that could make him feel even a modicum of peace. 

Simon was going to teach you to shoot. 

______________

That weekend, Simon woke you up bright and early, claiming to have a surprise date for you. 

“Oooh, what is it?” You’re nearly bouncing with excitement in the kitchen chair as Simon hands you your breakfast. 

“If I told you, wouldn’t be much of a surprise, now would it?” 

“Fair point,” you mumble around a mouth full of toast. 

“Let’s just say it’ll make us both feel better.” Simon takes a sip from his mug. 

__________________

You gazed out the window, the rising sun casting the military base in a warm glow. Simon had never brought you here before, had always hidden this part of his life away from you. You try to drink in as much detail as you can, driven by curiosity at this mysterious part of his life. 

Simon pulls the car as close to the shooting range as he could. Despite the base being mostly deserted this weekend, he was still taking every precaution necessary to ensure he was limiting your exposure to this area of his life as much as he could. 

With the car parked, Simon makes his way to your side of the car, his large, protective form shielding you from any prying eyes. He feels particularly exposed without his mask, but it’s a short walk to the range and he trusts that Price has held up his end of the bargain to keep this particular area abandoned this morning. His hand finds its way to the small of your back and guides you inside the range. 

The smell of gunpowder immediately filled your nostrils. There was always a lingering scent on Simon when he came home, but nothing quite as affronting as this. 

As promised, the range was completely cleared out, and Simon made a mental note to personally thank Price for his help. 

“What’re we doing here, Si?” Your voice piqued with curiosity. 

“Well, we’re teaching you how to shoot, o’ course.” 

“But why? It’s not like I’d ever have access to anything like that. S’not legal.” 

“About that.” Simon made his way to an area of the range that housed the standard weapons that were available for practice. He trusted that Price followed through on one other crucial part of this deal. 

Sure enough, a small compact handgun was nestled amongst the other array of firearms. 

Simon grabbed it, testing its weight in his hand before making his way back to you. 

“Listen to me very carefully, love,” his tone shifted, dripping with sincerity, and a touch of his natural commanding energy. 

You immediately sober up, looking at him with your full attention as if to show how good a listener you were. 

“This is for emergencies only. It stays hidden always. No one knows you have this. No one knows this even exists. It’s very important you understand that.” 

“But how did you—? Should I even—?”

“Mm-no questions. Just—“ Simon lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“Just trust me. I need to make sure you’re safe. ‘Specially after that little scare earlier this week.” 

You nod your head solemnly. “I understand, Si.” 

“Good. Then let’s get after it.” 

He guides you over to a stall and places your gun on the countertop as you assess your surroundings. There’s five lanes in this section of the range, each separated by stalls with an open range ahead. You can make out five faux targets at the end of the lane, but they seem impossibly far. Surely no-one can actually make that shot, you think to yourself. You’re pulled from your thoughts as Ghost steps up to you and places a pair of bulky earmuffs over your head. “These’ll help protect your ears while we practice,” he says as he adjusts them to fit snugly against your ears. 

“Don’t you need some?” Your voice is raised to compensate for your dulled auditory senses. 

Simon chuckles in response. “I’ll be alright. M’used to it.” 

“Now go pick it up,” he gestures towards the gun. “Safety’s on so don’t worry. It won’t bite.” 

Reality sinks in as you step forward and reach for the weapon. It’s lighter than you expected, but there’s a heftiness there that doesn’t have anything to do with the weight of the object itself. You test the feel of it in your hand, mimicking what you’ve seen in movies. 

“Good,” Ghost murmurs, stepping up behind you. He’s close enough now that you can feel him pressing up against your back. Two strong arms encase your frame as he leans forward and places his hands over yours. His large hands manage to make the weapon, and your hands, look even smaller. “Hold it like this.” He adjusts your grip just slightly. “Atta girl.” 

His thumb guides your own along the edge of the handle until you reach a firm button on the side. “Here’s the safety. You can tell it’s on when this red button is sticking out. See that, yeah?” 

You nod your head but it’s taking every ounce of energy you have to focus on his words and not the feeling of Simon’s hard body pressed against your back, his hot breath sending a chill down your neck, and the look of his large hands dwarfing your own—

“Oi. Pay attention. This is important.” 

You mentally scold yourself and refocus, adjusting your grip. “Okay, so the safety’s on?”

“Yes. Press it in to turn it off.”  You do as he says, the click instantly elevating your senses. Did the gun get heavier? 

“Now, pull back the top like this to,” he motions pulling back the barrel. “That’ll load the bullet into the chamber. It should already have a round in there, but we’ll get you some more ammo before we leave. Go ahead, cock it.” 

You can’t help the snort that escapes you. “Cock it, eh?” You turn your head to waggle your eyebrows at him. 

“Behave,” Simon warns, turning your chin to face forward. 

It takes more power than you expected to pull the barrel back, but the reaffirming click lets you know that something did indeed happen inside. 

“Alright, she’s loaded now.” 

“Okay…” you hesitate, waiting for further instructions. “Now what?”

“Now you point and shoot.” 

“At what?”

“See that fella at the end there? Aim for his head.” Simon gestures to the paper dummy hanging at the end of the alley. 

“All the way down there? There’s no way anybody could hit that!” You protest. 

Simon sighs, resigned, and flicks a small toggle on the countertop, triggering the electric pulley system that pulls the paper dummy closer to you, stopping it about halfway down the track. 

“Better?” 

“Only one way to find out,” you mutter, adjusting your position and taking aim. 

With a centering inhale, you close one eye, aim as best you can, and pull the trigger. 

The shot rings out louder than you thought possible, even with the ear protection. The force of the shot thrusts you backwards into Simon’s sturdy frame. Gun powder fills your nostrils even stronger than before. Your heart races as you look ahead to see…

You’ve miss the target completely. 

 “S’alright, love, wasn’t too terrible for your first shot,” Simon consoles. 

“Here, move your foot,” he gently taps the inside of your foot with his toes, and you spread into a wider stance. “Good, now straighten up those shoulders. Don’t worry about cocking it yet, let’s get the position right.” 

You do as he says, pulling the gun up once more to eye level. 

“Give your elbows a bit more bend. You want to hold it tight, but be loose enough for the recoil so it won’t knock you on your arse.”

“How’s that?” You ask, loosening your shoulders and relaxing your arms just slightly. 

“Looks good to me. Go ahead and cock ‘er.” 

You pull the barrel once more and ready yourself to take another shot. 

“Deep breathe,” Simon reminds you. “Now I want you to keep both eyes open, and look at where you’re directing your shot. You want to aim just slightly above your target. Gravity will pull the bullet down a bit from this distance.” 

You try your best to keep all these factors in your mind as you take your aim. 

A deep inhale and you brace yourself as you pull the trigger. 

This time you have a better idea of what to expect, and you move your upper body with the recoil, feeling more stable.  

“Did I do it? Did I hit it?” The excitement radiates in your voice as you eagerly lean over the table to get a better look. 

Simon can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm, so at odds with what he usually sees in this environment. “Let’s take a look,” he says as he presses the toggle and the motorized target moves closer. As it gets within range you see a clear, definitive hole in his upper right chest. “I got him!” You exclaim, jumping up and down. 

“Easy there, love,” Simon scolds halfheartedly as he leans over you and clicks the safety into place. 

You set the gun on the counter and turn to throw your hands around Simon’s neck, laughing. “I did it, Si!” 

You laughter is contagious and Simon’s own chuckle is music to your ears as his strong arms lift you up on your tiptoes. “Yeah, you sure did, babe.” 

And then his lips are on yours, his kiss hot and passionate, setting your body ablaze. He deepens the kiss for a final moment before setting you back on your feet and pulling away, leaving you breathless. 

“Damn,” the curse falls from your lips as you try to catch your breath, feeling just a tad lightheaded. 

“Right,” Simon clears his throat, trying to get the run of himself once more. He not-so-subtly adjusts his trousers bringing a satisfying smirk to your lips before turning you back around. 

“Let’s get some more practice in.” His voice is resolute, but the bulging erection currently pressing into your backside says differently as he sends the target back to the middle of the range. 

You pick up the gun once more, already feeling more comfortable with it, and adjust your stance to set up for another shot. Simon reaches up and corrects your aim just slightly, and you take the opportunity to lean back into him, ass rubbing against his hardened cock.

“I said behave,” Simon groans aloud, but you can feel his hips thrust ever so slightly in response. 

You fire off another shot, reloading and firing two more times. The thrill of each shot sends a jolt of electricity through you. You feel in control. Not helpless. Not defenseless. No, you feel…powerful. 

Simon swears his cock couldn’t get any harder. He had brought you here with the express purpose of teaching you to defend yourself when he wasn’t there. How could he possibly have anticipated just how fucking turned on he’d get watching you fire that weapon. 

Your confidence grows with each shot, your stance already self-assured. You look like a badass. And right now, it is taking every last goddamn bit of strength and willpower for Simon to stop himself from taking you right then and there. 

Finally, the gun gives a satisfying click, signifying the end of your rounds.  

“Phew,” you exhale with a chuckle. “That was an absolute thrill.” Clicking the safety back in place, you set the gun down and turn to face Simon. 

The wide smile on your face, bright as the morning sun, it takes his breath away. He can’t hold back a second longer. His lips crash against yours, large hands settling on your hips, pushing you back against the countertop. He doesn’t dare break the kiss as his meaty hands slide down to your ass, squeezing the supple flesh before lifting you up with a grunt to set you on the countertop. 

“Si!” Your exclamations drown in another breath-stealing kiss as Simon slots himself between your legs. 

Simon bites back a groan as he grinds his erection against your core, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. 

Deft fingers undo the button on your jeans and you lift your hips up, allowing him to pull down your trousers and knickers in one swoop. 

You let out a hiss as the cool countertop meets your bare ass, but the sensation is lost among more exciting sensations as Simon gets on his knees before you. Thank god for his height—even with you seated on the countertop he’s at the perfect height. 

“Bloody perfection,” Simon eyes your bare cunt, eyes full of wanton need. 

His comment brings heat to your cheek, intensified by his playful nips and kisses placed along your inner thighs. 

He kisses higher and higher, exciting you with every soft kiss, before skipping right over where you truly need him, moving to the other thigh. 

You let out an exasperated groan. “Quit teasing, Si.” 

His brown eyes shoot to yours, giving you a look—how dare you order him around. He has half a mind to punish you right here and now, but the scent of your dripping cunt hits his nose and his mouth waters on instinct. He places one more kiss to your thigh before acquiescing and a moving to your core. 

Words escape you as he laps at your heat, eating like a man starved. Fingers tangle in his dark blonde locks, hips rising off the cool countertop to meet him. 

Simon’s strong hands slide up your legs, gripping your hips and forcing you back down on the counter, tongue driving deeper between your folds, relishing in your gasps of pleasure. 

His tongue slides up your sweet folds, savoring every drop, until he reaches your puffy clit. This is when Simon slows it down, takes his time. His tongue swirls around your clit, sending shivers up your spine. He continues teasing you like this, your legs shaking until you’re not sure how much more you can take. 

His eyes are wide open, locked on your squirming form. While shooting that firearm gave you a sense of power, this is what gives Simon his sense of power—watching you come undone by him, his tongue, his actions alone sending you into this frenzied state. His right hand slides from your hip to your inner thigh before sliding inside you. He curls his fingers expertly, hitting that spongey spot inside you, making you see stars. He takes your clit into his moth, suckling at the swollen nub, fingers fucking you hard, preparing you for his cock. He releases your clit with an audible pop, his voice breathy and low. 

“You’re gonna come for me right now. Just like this. On my fingers. Understood?” 

You’re past caring. You’re past words. But somehow you manage out a breathy “Yes, yes, Si, just let me— I’m gonna—“ his tongue is back on your clit and his fingers hitting that spot just so and you’re toppling over the edge, body going rigid. Simon’s tongue is incessant, lapping up every drop of juice that spills from your sweet cunt, prolonging your orgasm with every nip and suckle until you’re bucking up against him. 

“Too sensitive, Si,” you mumble, lost in the haze of your orgasm. 

“That’s just how I like you swee’heart.” Simon stands up and undoes his belt, freeing his cock from its restraints. You crack your eyes open to see him wrap a fist around his cock, giving his member a few rough tugs, rolling back the skin to expose the deep red shade at the tip of his cock, already leaking precum. You bite your bottom lip as you let out a moan. 

“Now you gonna take my cock like a good girl?” Simon smirks down on you, making eye contact as his fist slides languidly up and down his cock. 

You nod fervently. 

“Good girl, just what I like to hear.” With that, he notches his cock at your opening, looking to you for one final nod of approval before he starts inching inside. 

You gasp at the intrusion, but Simon’s groans are nearly pained. 

“Fucking hell, babe, you’re so fucking tight.” 

You can only whimper in response, still lost in the post-orgasm bliss. 

“Shit,” Simon mutters under his breath. “Gotta relax, love,” he presses one hand against your abdomen. “Relax for me. You can take it. I know you can.” 

Simon’s mumbles even more praises, each good girl blurring into one another, lulling you, relaxing you. With a final grunt, Simon thrusts in to the hilt, filling you completely. 

“That’s my fucking girl,” Simon growls, pulling out to the tip and thrusting back into you. “Ya always take me so well, so fucking well.” 

His thrusts are deep, steady, his thick arms holding your body in place while his hips drive home. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the room, punctuated by your moans, and Simon swears he’s never been so thankful for Price’s little favors in his entire goddamn life. 

“Si…” you cry out, already feeling that familiar tightening in your stomach. Simon is already two steps ahead of you—he recognizes that tell-tale tightening of your cunt, that change in pitch as your breathy moans increase. Simon slides one hand from your hip down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles. 

“C’mon sweet girl, my good, sweet girl,” Simon’s hips move faster, cock thrusting into you with reckless abandon as he teeters on the edge. “Gonna come all over this fat fucking cock, yeah? Gonna let me fill you with every last drop of me, huh?” Simon’s words bordered on nonsense at this point, lost in the haze of pleasure. 

“Need it, Si,” you gasp. “Need to—gonna—can I—“

“Yes,” Simon growls low. It sends you over the edge, your entire body goes rigid as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. 

“That’s my girl, good girl,” Simon coos, working you through your orgasm. His thumb doesn’t leave your puffy clit until your body is jerking against him, overstimulated and worn out. 

“You’re such a good girl coming undone for me, love,” Simon murmurs, pressing a kiss to your damp temple. 

You’re barely floating back to reality, but you know he hasn’t finished yet. “Need you, Si,” you moan. “Need you to fill me up…please?” You’re downright pitiful about it, but Simon swears it makes him cock even harder. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Simon adjusts your hips in both holds, holding you steady as he pounds into your swollen pussy. “Fuck,” he groans, eyes rolling back. “Not gonna last long like this.” Simon loses all sense of rhythm as he pounds into you with abandon, searching for his end. “Fuck, I’m coming—“ Simon finishes with a growl, hips giving one final hard thrust before his warm seed start to flood you. Simon holds you close as he finishes, panting hard, forehead pressed to yours. 

You reflexively tighten your core, causing Simon to inhale sharply, beyond sensitive. 

“Fuck,” Simon curses, his breath still coming in pants as he tries to slow his heart rate. “You’re bloody perfect.” 

You chuckle in response, flushed from the thrill and excitement. “You’re just saying that because it turns out I’m a decent shot.” 

Simon smiles softly before nuzzling his head in your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. 

“Something like that, love.”

[marvelobsessed134]

You showed me

A/n: I watched Companion and got inspired. Also I fucking lost my first draft so now I have to rewrite this whole thing. And it’s a different idea than my original one so if I have the energy to also write that one then I will. But this is different because I’d get bored rewriting the same story.

Pairings: Dark!CEO!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, controlling!bucky, plot twist (if you haven’t seen the movie), attempt to runaway, loss of autonomy, dumbification, dubious consent, mid smut ngl.

Your heels clicked softly against the tile in the grocery store, pushing your cart along as you listened to the bland corporate pop music playing over the speakers.

You made your way to the produce aisle, eyeing the peaches and picking one up to sniff it. Across the way you could see an extremely handsome man, with dark brown hair and steel blue eyes. He had quite the stubble, too. He caught your eye and smiled, walking closer to you.

“Hi, I’m James but everyone calls me Bucky.” He introduced himself.

You chuckled softly, “I’m Y/n.”

The two of you stood there, smiling at each other.

“Y/n, wake up.” Your eyes fluttered awake at the sound of your lovers’ voice. You sat up in bed, looking over at him as he was already getting ready for the day. Buttoning up his shirt and buckling his slacks.

The brunette crawled onto the bed to press a kiss to your lips, “Good morning, doll.”

“Good morning. Where are you headed off to today?”

“Just a couple things I have to take care of at the office. It’ll just be a couple hours. Then…we have the whole night….to ourselves.” Bucky pawed at your nightgown and you giggled, a wave of arousal coming over you. He kissed you once again before getting back to dressing up.

You got out of bed and got dressed as well. Putting on a pink dress you know Bucky loves. Then you did your hair and makeup before heading into the kitchen to make him a quick breakfast.

Awhile later, your boyfriend stepped into the kitchen, giving you a kiss on the cheek as he grabbed the pieces of toast you prepared him.

“I’ll see you later, doll. Try to get some cleaning done when I’m gone, yeah?”

You nodded and bid him farewell as he walked out the door of your luxurious penthouse. Well, his luxurious penthouse.

Throughout the day you began cleaning. Starting in the kitchen then working your way to the bedroom. As you were organizing the walk-in closet, you noticed a small handbook. Furrowing your brows, you picked it up.

The front said Empathix Robotics. There was a picture of a beautiful woman smiling wide. You opened the book which had you landing on the page with a little background on the company.

Their line of business was making companion robots for people who want the perfect partner. Why would Bucky have this?

Flipping through more pages you read about the “Care guide for your new companion.” mentioning things like how to clean them, what not to do, how to shut them down if needed, how to reset them. And then…the voice commands.

The one that stood out to you the most, was how to wake them up and put them to sleep.

It reminded you a lot of how the first thing you’d hear in the morning was “Y/n, wake up.” And the last thing you’d hear at night was, “Y/n, go to sleep.”

All of this was eerily similar to your own life…but this can’t be true, right? You’re not a robot. You have feelings. You feel pain, you cry, you can eat. But now that you think about it, you’ve never gained any weight, never felt truly hungry. It didnt take you long to come up with the realization that you were, in fact, a made to order robot for your boyfriend. But it still confused you because you have memories as well. Memories of being a child, summer jobs, meeting Bucky…you had to bring this up to him when he came home.

And so, after hours of waiting, you sat on the couch as Bucky walked in with a smile. “Hey, doll!” He exclaimed. His smile dropped when he noticed your expression.

“What’s wrong, Y/n?”

You held up the handbook, “James…what the hell is this?”

“Oh doll…” The CEO sighed, sitting on the coffee table across from you as he ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think I’d have to break this to you…”

“Break what to me, Bucky?” You asked, though you had a pretty good clue.

“You know, I’ve been with a bunch of different women over the years…none of them were right for me. They never gave me what I needed. I needed a sweet girl who wouldn’t talk back to me, someone who wouldn’t second guess everything I did…”

You processed the information, your heart rate picking up as he continued, “So when a buddy of mine told me about how I could get the perfect girl…I couldn’t resist. Really, I couldn’t. And…fuck…when you got delivered-“

“Delivered? You had me shipped to your fucking house?”

“Doll, calm down.”

“No! Fuck, you don’t even have to say it I know I’m an AI robot you bought for yourself!” You yelled as you got up off the couch, grabbing your purse. Bucky stood up, “Where do you think you’re going, doll?”

“That’s, what you want in a woman! You want a doll, right? Sweet gentle submissive thing that can’t fight back and goes along with everything you say, right?”

His expression hardened. You grabbed your purse and attempted to escape the penthouse, but he blocked the door. You quickly ran down the hall to the office where you knew he kept one useful thing.

A gun.

Quickly, after making sure it was loaded, you ran down the hall as Bucky was stalking towards you. He paused as he spotted the gun in your hands.

“Doll, Y/n, put the gun down please.”

You didn’t respond, didn’t move. Tears fell down your cheeks. “Why do I have memories? Why do I remember meeting you? Why can I feel emotions?”

“It’s all part of your programming. Those memories…are fake, Y/n.” You narrowed your eyes at him and began to slowly push the trigger down.

Your boyfriend-owner-pulled out his phone which made you tilt your head in confusion, until your mind suddenly felt…empty. Bucky let out a sigh in relief.

He turned your intelligence down to 0%.

“Y/n, I want you to come over here and give the gun to me, okay?” He asked sweetly. You made your way over to him, setting the gun in his hand. The brunette put it back in its place in the office before carrying you into the bedroom, placing you on the bed.

“I didn’t wanna do this but…maybe I made you too smart too fast. You’re gonna be a little dumb for awhile okay?” The man took your jaw in between his fingers, squeezing your cheeks and nodding your head.

You had no thoughts as he began to strip in front of you. His chiseled abs on full display. Bucky pressed his lips to yours in a forceful, passionate kiss before unzipping your dress, pulling off with ease.

You laid there as he stripped you of your clothes and underwear. You could feel the arousal between your legs. No matter what, Bucky always made you horny.

Usually he would make sure you got to cum first. But instead, he shoved himself inside of your tight hole. Gripping your hips as the man thrusted inside of you, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“See? This…this is perfect. This is why I bought you, doll.” Tears formed in your eyes, but you also couldn’t help but moan. It was so, so wrong to get turned on at a time like this. Even more wrong when you knew he had complete control over you.

“Jesus Christ…always so tight…fuck, doll!” Bucky gripped your left breast as he jackhammered into you, hitting your g spot over and over again. Or was it all programming? You couldn’t tell and you couldn’t care as endless pleasure flowed through your body. You clenched around his cock as you came with a loud gasp. It didn’t take long for your boyfriend to cum as well, filling you completely.

Bucky wiped your tears off your cheeks and brushed some of your hair out of your face, looking down at you with a soft expression but there was dominance and carnal desire just below the surface.

“I think I’m gonna keep you like this for a little longer.”

[simplyraeblue]

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Bargaining Chip (Dabi x reader x Hawks)

!femreader x Dabi x Hawks idk what plot to write for this tbh WARNINGS/TAGS: MDNI, NSFW, swearing, inappropriate quirk usage (slight branding), smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), creampie, dabi claims you, hawks wants you, blah blah blah feelings with smut, use of "doll", use of "pretty" A/N: this was my lil birthday treat to myself so I wrote this Tuesday in a manic "I'm getting older" mind. i'll eventually write Dabi a solo one but something about these two together... shew. also my first threesome smut so hope it suits your fancy! word count: 3,015

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Hawks had made it his personal mission to gather intel on you. His primary objective, of course, was to get information on the League by following you. His hidden mission… soak in as much of you as he could. 

You were gentle, and kind, he’d even go so far as to say cute. How the hell had you ended up with the League of Villains? He’d watched you help an elderly woman across the street for God’s sake - not really villain behavior. 

As of late, he’s been allowing his curiosity to get the better of him. Sneaking into your apartment, rummaging through your things… and even wistfully stealing a few sniffs of your sheets, the scent of you lingering from the morning. Your life seemed utterly normal to him, nothing out of the ordinary. 

And yet, every other night he’d follow you to their hideout. A run-down warehouse that accommodated the League - a place he’d only been to once when Dabi had first questioned his loyalties. You looked out of place, like a sheep amongst wolves as you walked in casually through the front door. 

Hawks had toed the line of rushing in after you, every time he watched you disappear into the building. Were you in danger? Is there a chance you were forced to be here time after time? Nothing else made sense; you had no criminal record, no quirk, nothing tying you to the group. He couldn’t figure it out, and it was beginning to irritate him. 

It had been a month or so since he’d started following you in the first place, initially on edge but now unfazed by how close he’d fly to you. He had to talk with you, get you alone so that you felt safe to speak… but his training told him it was too risky. 

So, now here he was, giving up a night of surveillance to meet with Dabi. Kicking himself every mile he put between himself and your apartment - what if he missed something while he was gone? He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the little glimpses into your life he got, so normal and carefree. 

What he didn’t expect was to get to the building and find you.

Hawks paused at the door before peaking in the window to make sure it was safe. Instead, he froze at the sound of the moans spilling from your mouth, his eyes recognizing you instantly, even with your face fucked out from pleasure.

He’d half anticipated finding you in danger, in need of rescuing, but here you were – bouncing languidly up and down while straddling Dabi. Far from in danger. 

You were racked with overstimulation, Dabi working you up to your third orgasm as you groaned out his name, unaware of your peeping tom watching the scene unfold. “Fuck, please I can’t again.” You whined with your head thrown back, eyes screwed shut as you felt the burning in your stomach grow as hot as his flames.

“But you’re takin’ it s’ well, doll.” Dabi moaned into your tits as he used his hands on your hip to move your body himself. He refused to cum until you were too fucked out to even beg for it, until your body was limp from exhaustion. “Wan’ you t' cum on my dick again.”

A hot slap landed on the plush of you ass, leaving a burn shaped like a handprint to mark you as his. While you continued to use him, his cock hitting your cervix so deliciously, his eyes glanced at the time. He knew who should be outside the door, so it was no surprise when out of the corner of his eye he saw a fleeting pair of red wings.

Dabi started to rut into you now, even more feral with the idea that someone was watching how good he was making you feel, and your praises made it that much sweeter. “Oh yes – mph – Dabi, shit ‘m gonna cum!” You squealed out as your body started to tremble under his touch, your warm, wet walls clenching around his cock as you reached your high and lost yourself in it.

“That’s it, lemme feel ya.” Dabi’s lips found your neck, leaving scorching hot kisses on your skin as you ground your hips into his to ride out your release. 

At the sight of you coming undone, Hawks physically couldn’t restrain himself. He’d already shoved his hand past his waistband to palm his growing erection, but now he was fully fisting himself as he enjoyed the show. You sounded so sweet, a wicked little thing with someone else’s name on your lips – and he wanted it to be his name you screamed instead. 

As you collapsed into Dabi’s chest, your head finding purchase in his sweat-coated shoulder, you gulped down as much air as you could knowing it was certainly not over for you. Just as you were anticipating Dabi to switch positions and fuck you until his own orgasm, you felt his body shake with laughter.

“You gonna come in or not?” He spoke out loud, and your body stilled as you heard the front door creak open slowly. You couldn’t lift your head to see who it was, whether from exhaustion or embarrassment and assuming it was one of the League, but then Dabi answered your question himself. “Enjoy the show, Hawks?”

The name of the number two hero sent a rush of adrenaline through you, making you shoot straight up to look – sure enough, the winged hero sheepishly stood in the doorway, and you couldn’t ignore the tent in his pants as he rubbed his neck awkwardly.

“Did you know he was there?” You questioned Dabi, placing a light smack onto his chest in punishment because you already knew the answer. 

“Y’know, seeing as you’re in a bit of a… hurtful situation, I’d be glad to share with you. Help ya out, for the sake of our growing alliance.” Dabi shot Hawks a wicked smirk as he toyed with your tits, and you scowled at him. 

“Do I have any say in this?” Of course, Dabi shook his head no in response to you. 

“You’ll do as you're told, right?” He teased, nibbling your neck in a warning. While you knew he liked to play games, especially with Hawks, you were in no position to argue with him. You’d been on the receiving end of a temper tantrum once, and only once, but it was enough to know you shouldn’t test him.

“On one condition.” Hawks finally spoke up, breaking the tension between you and Dabi as you both looked over at him, a new confidence seemingly coming over his face. “I do this, you take me to Shigaraki.”

So… you’ve been demoted to a bargaining chip. How lovely.

“Deal.” Your jaw dropped at Dabi’s answer before you felt him lifting your ass from his lap, pulling his cock free from you in the process. Hawks wasted no time stalking over the couch as Dabi practically handed you off to him. 

“Wait, wait.” You held your hands up, glancing between the two men both looking at you with lust. “Only if Dabi is still a part of this.”

“Who do you think is gonna fuck your mouth, doll?” Before you could even register what was going on, Dabi forced you onto all fours on the carpet. 

While he lightly tapped your wet lips with his tip, Hawks stripped himself of his pants and you sucked in a breath. He was… bigger than you would’ve thought for someone with his ego, assuming his bravado was overcompensating. You peered over your shoulder to watch as Hawks knelt behind you, his hand kneading your ass and practically drooling at the sight of your wet cunt dripping onto the floor.

Hawks would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of this exact sight before. Whenever he’d traipse into your apartment, smell your scent everywhere, even rummage through your underwear drawer and examine some of your more… delicate panties. You had overwhelmed him since the day he first laid eyes on you; sweet, innocent, good enough to take a bite out of. 

“Are you gonna hurry up or are you too scared?” Dabi taunted Hawks as he forced your mouth open with his thumb, pressing down on your tongue before pushing his leaking tip past your lips. 

“Shut up, it’s been a while.” Hawks bit out, taking his lower lip between his teeth as he teased your hole with the tip of his dick, almost losing himself at the warm slick coating your folds. With the first nudge into your cunt, he shuddered. God, you were fucking tight. So tight and warm and wet that he was cursing himself for feeling all too good too quickly. “Ah fuck, feel s’ good, pretty. Your cunt is already milkin’ me, taking me in like a good girl.”

Dabi moaned as he pushed your head down on his cock, your nose brushing against the trimmed white pubes at the base while his tip hit the back of your throat. You were focused on your breathing, fully attentive to Dabi until Hawks found himself sinking into you with one quick thrust. The feeling of Hawks bottoming out had you moaning around Dabi, the vibrations sending a shiver through him. 

“That’s right, doll, take both of us at the same time. You’re so good at getting your holes used.” Dabi groaned out as his fingers knotted into your hair, using the leverage to pull and push your head up and down his aching cock that was practically twitching with every suck of your lips.

Your muffled moans filled the room as Hawks began to brutally plow into you from behind, gripping onto your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he bullied his dick into you. The hero was already gasping for breath at how good your cunt felt with every thrust – and he was pretty sure you felt good too from the noises he heard you trying to make with a cock stuffed in your mouth. Every time you moaned, or shuddered, his cockiness grew. He’d be the one making you scream his name this time.

“Feel – hah – heavenly wrapped around me. Like this is what y’ were made for.” Hawks pressed a hand to your back and pushed down lightly to increase your arch, hitting your gummy walls with more force now and quickly finding your g spot and abusing it. 

With eyes watery and drool seeping from your mouth, you looked up at Dabi and he thought it had to be the sluttiest sight. Your eyelashes wet with tears and face flushed, he wanted to memorize this visual so he could keep it forever. He brought a scarred hand up to your chin, cupping it with a mixture of care and roughness as he grinned down at you. 

“Such a good girl, my good girl y’know that?” Dabi murmured to you as your head continued to bob up and down, drool now leaking down to his aching balls before your eyes fluttered shut at a mean thrust from Hawks. “Seems you’re doin’ good, Hawks. Makin’ my girl feel good. Now let’s see if you can make her cum again.”

Hawks had already made it his personal mission, desperately wanting to feel your walls tighten around him, but the challenge from Dabi made him all the more eager to push you over the edge. “Did ya hear that, pretty? ‘m gonna make you cum real good, okay?” Hawks whispered breathily as he began to barely pull out and thrust back in just to focus on your g spot, one of his hands slipping around your waist to deftly find your clit and rub circles around the sensitive nub.

You moaned around Dabi’s cock as you felt your release approaching quickly, your body tensing more with every thrust of Hawk’s cock against your sensitive spot. As you looked up at Dabi, fucked out eyes struggling to focus on his mouth agape in pleasure, you watched as drool dribbled from the corner of his mouth to roll down his abdomen, his face twisted in an expression that you so rarely saw from him. 

You were so close, the feeling of being stuffed full from both sides leaving your nerve endings buzzing with pleasure as Dabi fucked your face and Hawks bullied his cock faster into your cunt. The sight of Dabi opening his mouth wide, exhaling your name, snapped the knot that had been tight in your stomach, and soon you were loudly moaning around Dabi’s cock and clenching around Hawks’ dick as your release crashed over you, much harder than the last few today. 

Hawks hissed as he felt your walls tighten around him like a vice grip, all but stalling his thrust with how tight you’d gotten as you came around him. It wasn’t long after feeling your orgasm that he had his own ramming into him, causing him to quickly pull out and spray your slick folds with his sticky cum. He watched as his cum dripped down and off your clit, committing the sight to memory. 

“Shit, couldn’t even fill ‘er up.” Dabi groaned before he pulled you off his dick, and while you gasped for breath, he wrapped his arms around your legs to spin you, aiming your dripping cunt towards him before he plunged himself deep inside.

“Ah, fuck Dabi!” You yelled out as his tip kissed your cervix, your body still sensitive from your orgasm. You now looked up at Hawks through a tear-glistened gaze and found him nodding at you encouragingly with his brows furrowed and a soft smile on his lips.

“Did s’ good, pretty.” Hawks cooed as his thumb swiped across your lower lip, prodding the digit past your teeth before you wrapped your mouth around it and sucked. “Gonna take his cum, hm? Gonna let him fill you up?” You whined as you nodded, and Hawks smiled before placing a kiss on your lips as his free hand pulled your head in to nuzzle your hair. He felt like a maniac when he took a deep inhale of your shampoo, but to his heart’s dismay, it was overcome by a smokey scent, no doubt from the stitched man himself. 

“Fuck, take all my cum, doll. Be a good girl and milk it out of me.” Dabi’s moans grew louder, his thrust sloppier as he bottomed out before his cum started to shoot from his tip, painting your cervix white. You groaned at the feeling of his cock twitching and sputtering inside of you, feeling so warm and full of his cum that you could melt into a puddle. 

As Dabi stilled inside of you, coming down from his orgasm, Hawks used his tongue to explore your mouth. Your soft, plump lips were addicting, and after watching you for so long he had begun to wonder if he’d ever feel them. Now that he knew, he didn’t want to stop. After this, he’d keep tailing you, day after day just to get a glimpse of your pretty face. Maybe he’d start going late at night and praying you would leave your patio door unlocked.

He wanted to be with you, hopefully fuck you get to know you, without Dabi around. 

“That’s my pretty girlfriend.” Dabi cooed as he pulled you up into an embrace, warm arms wrapped out your weak body. As Hawks heard the label, his heart sank – how was someone like you with someone like him? Surely, he was the better option.

No, now was not the time to get sensitive. He’d enjoyed himself, more than enjoyed, but Dabi’s offer now came crawling back into his mind. “Alright, we had a deal.” Hawks’ usual demeanor he reserved for the villain came smoothing back over his features. “You said you’d take me to see Shigaraki.”

Dabi rolled his eyes as he pulled out of you with a wet squelch, and you shuddered at the loss of him inside you. “Way to kill the mood, hero.” He snarked before scooping you up into his arms and carrying you to the couch, gently setting you down before covering your still-naked body with a blanket. “Don’t lie and tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself.”

Hawks glanced over to find you looking at him, pupils still blown out and panting breaths escaping between your lips. God, he wanted to take you away from here. Claim you as his own – but he had to focus on his objective. 

“Sure, any man enjoys a wet cunt to stick their cock into.” Hawks’ response came out more tense than he meant it to, and Dabi’s eyebrow perked at the obvious lie. 

“Whatever.” Dabi waved him off, and you huffed in response before rolling over to turn your back to the both of them. “As long as she still prefers me, that’s all I care about. She is mine after all.”

Dabi had never once called you his, let alone put the label of girlfriend on whatever the two of you had going on. You were almost sure he was only saying these things to get a rise out of Hawks, using you as leverage. But you had a little secret hope that he was being honest. Otherwise, you’d gone and fucked the big bad villain for nothing. 

And yet, even after Hawks had left (heart aching more than it should), Dabi still pulled you into him. He still kissed the top of your head, still whispered praises that he’d deny in front of anyone else, and still… called you his. 

He’d never tell you out loud, God forbid he’d go completely soft, but when he first met you… he was awestruck. Dabi thought that you were too beautiful for this cruel world, too innocent like a delicate flower, and yet you stuck around. You were like a salve to his burns, cooling down the anger inside of him until he became a puddle in your arms. 

He’d never say it out loud; but he was in love with you. 

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link to my master list here

[fairytsuk1]

tie me up, pin me down | (s)

synopsis: husband!alex indulging his wife´s request to dom him then taking over when she teases him too much

pairing: alex quackity x reader

words: 4k

warnings: husband/wife dynamic, dom/sub dynamic, teasing, cowgirl position, reverse dynamic, sub!alex

“You wanna—what?”

Alex kneads your hips in his hands, eyes searching yours for clarification. You were nestled in his lap, arms slinked around his broad shoulders as you stared deeply into his dark eyes. Alex held you easily, your body molding to his in a practiced motion the two of you had perfected over the years of being together.

 “Are you serious?”

A throb between your thighs leaves you aching as you roll your hips into Alex’s lap. Your husband lets out a soft sigh at the feel of your plush ass pressing so deliciously against his bulge. 

“Of course,” you grumble, hands twisting his wedding ring delicately. “I wanna top you, seriously.”

Alex takes in your words as a slight grin works its way onto his freckled face, urging you harder against his growing erection while humming lowly. The two of you enjoyed a little power play every once in a while.

Though you had never outright asked to top him, you and Alex always fell into an easy rhythm; you’d take what he gave you, and he’d give you all you could need. It was fun, it was easy, it was sexy. 

“Hmm, are you sure you want to? Maybe I’ll be super bratty, like you!”

Your hand slaps his chest, a mewl escaping you when you grind just right; your clit pulses as you bear down on your husband’s arousal. Your lips peck at his jaw and neck, your hips growing greedy as they rocked again and again against him. He already had you losing yourself in him, and it was just so unfair how weak he made you.

“First off, I’m not bratty—“

“Sure, you’re not.”

Lips press into a thin line, and the first move is made when you press manicured nails into the soft skin of Alex’s jaw. His cheeks are mush against your fingertips. You deliciously squirm at the feel of holding him in place, panting against his lips and keeping him still.

“Don’t interrupt me,” Alex’s eyes give the green light, and you continue. “Second off, I can handle anything you throw my way.”

“Can you?”

It’s muffled against your fingertips but doesn’t stop the smile from crawling onto Alex’s lips like a Cheshire cat. You scoff, releasing his jaw and pouting in his lap while you look at him. 

“I can, and you better believe me. I’ll tease you till you’re crying and begging me to stop.”

Your husband is non-threatened, chuckling and unable to hold back his smirk as his hand skims your sides and comes to massage your chest. His deft fingers easily find the curve of your tits. His thumb runs over your nipple, and you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning and arching into his chest. 

“We’ll see. That’s usually you, you know.”

“Just watch me,” you say, leaning in and capturing Alex’s lips in a hot kiss. 

He groans and pulls you closer, already growing desperate as he gathers you in his arms to lift you and take you to the bedroom. Your legs wrap around his waist effortlessly, and you giggle when he hoists you up into the air. 

“C’mon, no more games!”

The two of you are a mess of tangled limbs and panting breaths for the rest of the evening.

Days pass. Alex is busy with work, and you’ve got your own thing going on: cooking, shopping, relaxing. You’re secretly plotting and praying Alex doesn’t know. He saunters around like he’s innocent. A stretch in the living room here, a towel wrapped around him there. Post-shower, mind you. Your husband was making you hot under the collar, and you hated it. You need to get under his skin and make him feel crowded and needy.

Oh, you were plotting. You make his favorite. Tamales Rojas. Red tamales. It’s labor mixed with love as you tenderly make each one with a smile on your face. Alex greets you with a pleasant sniff and arms wrapping around your waist. “Smells good in here. What are you doing, trying to convince me of something?”

“No, I just wanted to do something special for you.” 

You whisper and turn in his arms to wrap yourself around his shoulders. You get close enough to kiss, and you can see his eyes darting down to peer at your lips. He pulls you closer to his body by your hips; he’s familiar with you, and he knows you can’t resist crumbling before him when he towers over you just like this. Yet, you’re still standing, and your grin has turned into a full-blown smirk.

“Ready to eat?”

Alex’s eyes are dark and stormy, and they drink you in like a full glass of red wine. He hums lowly, thumbs rubbing at your hip bones before skimming your waist and tugging you closer by the small of your back. “I’m ready for something else.”

Despite the aching call for submission that comes from your gut, you manage to resist and worm your way out of Alex’s shocked arms. He stares at you curiously and follows like a dog to the kitchen. Alex doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s wondering why the two of you aren’t fucking right on the kitchen table.

You plate the tamales for him, the spicy pork making your mouth water as you set his plate in front of him.

“Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome,” and you’re sitting opposite him with crossed arms and legs.

You weren’t expecting the retaliation from Alex, though, who corners his plate like a man starved. He looks the exact same as he would, as if he was going to eat you out, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he crowds the plate like it was your sweet pussy. Your mouth runs dry as Alex starts to feast, making soft groans of pleasure as he tears his teeth into the masa and pork. 

Alex’s eyes are dark when they drift up to yours. He looks hungry. His eyes watch you for a moment before he wipes his lips and takes a sip of water. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“No I–I am,” you mumble, cheeks flushing and eyes darting away as you try to conceal your shy gaze. “What do you think?”

“It’s fucking delicious, babe. I’ll do the dishes tonight,” and he drawls his words out in a way that makes your thighs squeeze together. “You really outdid yourself, didn’t you, mi amor?”

He knows he’s hitting all your weak points. He absolutely knows what he’s doing with the praise that sends heat down to your throbbing clit. You take a tentative bite and nod, not dignifying him with a response. Alex smirked before crowding his plate and beginning to eat even more voraciously. 

Alex groans, licking his lips and smacking them as if he was devouring you. It’s too much, and you’re standing abruptly with your half-full plate. “I’m done. I’m gonna put this in the sink.”

“Okay, baby,” his eyes linger as you cross the room. 

Even in the kitchen, you can feel his piercing gaze. You stay where you are, listening as your husband stands and approaches you. He’s quiet as he draws close, humming a random tune as he rests his chin on the junction of your neck. Then, a sharp smack echoes in the small apartment.

“Alex!”

“I know what you’re doing,” he drawls into your ear, hand taking a handful of your ass before smacking it again for emphasis. “Trying to ignore me? Even when I want you so bad…”

“I’m not ignoring you,” you whisper and try to keep the shake from your voice. “I made your favorite.”

“As if that’s not when you want something. Come on, let me have you.”

Was that begging*? Oh, it was definitely begging. You must bite your lip to prevent a smirk as you turn in his arms.

“Get to washing.”

Just like that, you leave him shell-shocked in the kitchen. You lounge in the living room, listening to Alex vigorously scrub pots and pans. You can imagine the pouty look on his face as he meticulously cleaned every dish. You had won this round.

Alex did not like to give up, though. It was one of the things you loved about him. When he was into something, he was into it. It all started with a casual Saturday morning, two days after the tamales rojos incident–as you liked to call it. It was two days of bliss, of married life with your husband. Yet, on this particular day, Alex seemed different.

He did all the chores early. He made you breakfast and carried your cup of coffee to you in bed. Usually, these sweet gestures and over-the-top affectionate moments were saved for more meaningful occasions, not just ordinary Saturday afternoons.

“Any reason for this?”

“Just wanted to do something special for you,” Alex murmurs. His eyes stare deep into yours with an intensity that makes you hot under the collar. “What’s your plan for today?”

“Oh, nothing,” you lie easily.

You were ready to put your plan into action and absolutely dominate him.

“Well, have fun with your lazy day,” Alex teased, and you leaned forward for a syrupy kiss.

But it was denied. Alex swiftly turns his head, and your lips plant a full kiss on his cheek. He smirked, and you could see the intensity of his gaze mingle with the boyish playfulness of his personality. This wasn’t any ordinary Alex. No, this was bratty, submissive and downright infuriating Alex.

If you wanted to top him, he would not make it easy for you. You put your big girl boots on, opting for a different avenue to get what you desperately wanted. Alex goes about his day like usual. You pay him no mind. You merely watch him, observe him like a zoo animal. He’d dodge a kiss here, pretend he wasn’t listening there.

He was pretty good at being a brat. It just wasn’t enough to get you to back down. You crowd him after dinner, taking steady, measured steps up to his seated form. He keeps his eyes on the TV as if he sees through you. You cock a hip and lean down to get face to face.

Alex’s breath quickens. You can feel the soft puffs on your face as you force him to meet your gaze. He holds it for a moment, and before he can swiftly turn away, your hand darts out to grip his fleshy cheeks between your fingers. You caught him.

“You haven’t been playing nice,” you murmur and shake your head as Alex tries to open his mouth, prevented by the way the pads of your fingers dig into the groove under his jawbone. You pin him in place.

“No,” you drawl. “Don’t try to speak. Just look at me. I’m already making you do it. You might as well comply.”

Alex’s cheeks lift into a smushed smile, and your lips form a flat line. Your hand tilts his head up farther, enough to see the redness float into the apples of his cheeks.

“Lemme go,” he mumbles, voice hollow and wet with spit.

“No.”

“Why not?”

You hold him for a moment longer before releasing him, your hand traveling to cup his throat. His breath hitches then, and you’re smirking at how your husband so easily enjoyed being put in his place.

“Because, I want you to go upstairs and lie flat on your back. I want you pliant, open, spread just for me. I want to devour you.”

Alex dashes up the stairs, an excited yet breathless laugh escaping him. You wait till you hear nothing before making your way upstairs. Photos of your wedding, the two of you together, and the life you had built together pass by your form.

He’s spread out in his boxers for you. A teasing smile lingers on Alex’s face as he rests on one arm.

“Hey, pretty,” he quips your usual nickname as you climb over him and settle your clothed self on top of his form. “You look good, baby.”

“I always look good,” you tease and hold a finger to his lips. “But I’m not your baby tonight.”

“Oh? What happened to my good girl?”

Your hips roll against his half-chub, a hiss escaping him as you drag your clothed pussy over the length of his cock, teasing him slowly with every circle of your hips. It’s already hot in the room, your lips parting to puff soft breaths as you worked your hips over Alex’s dick. Alex’s thighs tense with need, and you can see how he struggles from pinning you to the bed and absolutely ravishing you. 

His fingers flex, and you’re sweeping his wrists into the grip of your palm and pinning them over his head. Your man playfully gasps, and your lips quirked into a smirk. 

“I’m not your good girl. Tonight, I want you to surrender to me. I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow,” and you drag out your words to punctuate them with a grind of your hips. “I’m telling you, Alex, you’re gonna be begging me to cum.”

“We’ll see about that. For now, why don’t you just show me, hmm?”

Your lips meet in a fiery, hot kiss. It’s sloppy and wet with how your tongues glide together, lips sucking at the pink muscle while Alex squirms beneath you. Your fingers press his wrists further into the plush of the mattress, and Alex groans for a moment of breath.

“So unfair, I wanna touch you,” he whines softly.

“Be patient,” you utter against his lips, grinding your pussy against his hips. You were already soaking through your panties, but you kept your clothes on. “I’ll let you touch me if you’re good.”

Alex makes no real move to push you off, though you know he can. Instead, he lets you in him. Lets you kiss his lips till they’re pink, swollen, and bitten. He looks up at you with lowered lids, chest heaving as your manicured nails rake across his skin. He looked downright delicious. 

You’re gentle in the way you plant kisses from his sternum down to the waistband of his boxers. You let go of his wrists, and he quickly tucks his arms behind his head to prop himself up and watch you. Your lips are plush, soft and warm as they drag over his clothed cock. His teeth sank into his bottom lip as you palmed him over his boxers, a low moan escaping him as he shifted.

He was already so hard, so wanting for you. Your fingers scrape against the sensitive skin of his tummy as you peel his boxers off, his dick leaking and flushed against his navel. You’re still fully dressed, and you can see your man eyeing you with annoyance.

“I wanna see you,” he says after a beat of silence. “Please?”

“Please, what?”

Alex’s face contorts, and while you know he’s not entirely against calling you mommy, he was certainly not used to it. It comes out quiet, meek. His eyes are shy as he glances away at the pictures on your nightstand before returning to your form. You smirk and lean so close that your noses touch.

“Say it, and I’ll take all my clothes off.”

“Please, Mommy?”

“Of course, you’re so good for me.”

An exquisite look of pleasure crosses Alex’s face when you compliment him. He leans into your palm that smooths his hair out, his eyes wide as you slowly lift and pull your shirt off. Your husband has seen you a million times like this but never got that awestruck teenage boy look off his face.

Your breasts grow exposed, nipples hardening in the cool air. You sit atop him, hands roaming over your torso as you give him a show. You huff and whine when your palms drag over your tits, and Alex’s eyes grow to saucers as he watches you. Pathetic little pleas are spoken by him, his eyes raking over your form as you pleasure yourself.

“Can you take the rest of it off? I wanna see you so bad,” Alex gives him, his voice betraying him as he begs for you.

“Oh, yeah? Want me to take all of it off?”

“Yes, I just fuckin’ said–”

You’re pinning him down again. Your eyes are dark, lashes fluttering against your flushed skin as you stare at him.

“You’ll take what I give you with no complaints. Do you hear me?”

Alex’s lip quivers, and he thrashes for a moment before relaxing. You sat on your knees above him, sweatpants still adorned, as Alex arched up to try to get some friction. You watch him squirm, humming lowly and leaning down to plant peck after peck on his sternum. 

Your lips trace his pecs, softly gliding over his right nipple. A squeak escapes him, and then a moan when you take his nipple into your mouth and suck. He always did this with you. Teased you till you couldn’t take it anymore, and well, you understood, given how satisfying it was to watch your husband pathetically whimper for your body. 

Sitting up, you untie your sweatpants and tug off your panties. Alex’s eyes rake over you with pure need, his wrists sitting pliantly and obediently above his head. The two of you look at each other before you’re sinking down and slotting your pussy over his cock.

“Oh fuck. You’re so wet, baby. Fuuuck, can you–ngh, y’know.”

“Not yet, honey,” you purr, dragging your soaked folds over the curve of his dick. “You feel so good, so warm against me. Oh god, fuck, wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Please fuck me,” Alex’s voice is hoarse. Desperate. “Ohmygod, pleasepleaseplease. Wanna feel your pussy, I wanna be inside you. Mommy, please?”

It’s so fucking tempting. You ground yourself faster, harder, growing near delirious as you felt his pre-cum mix with your slick, making the glide that much wetter. You’re on your forearms, hips working back and forth against Alex, his eyes rolling back and lips parting to expose the delicate expanse of his throat. Little moles dotted his skin, and a sharp moan floats past your lips.

“Fuck, I-I’m, fuck. Okay, oh god, okay.”

You’re caving and sitting up in an instant. His words just made you even hornier, and you needed to feel him now. Your hand grabs the base of his cock–a strangled wail coming from Alex–before you line him up with your pussy. He was twitching in your hand, gripping the headboard as you sank down.

“Holy shit, ngh, yes! Fuck me, please. Just move!”

“Hush, I’m moving–okay?”

It’s so hurried, and you’re immediately bouncing like a bunny in his lap. Alex can’t take it anymore, and his hands come to grab onto your hips eagerly, pulling you flush against his cock as he buries himself deep inside you. You let him, greedily bouncing up and down on his dick. He was so hard, throbbing inside you, and you couldn’t get enough of how he handled your hips and tugged you down with every bounce.

He’s so thick that his dick stretches you out with every long glide. You pant, eyes fluttering as your hands fist the sheets. Alex is privy to how you writhe and grind against his hips. Pathetic mewls are pushed from your lips, and you’re looking at him with wide eyes that beg for him.

Your thighs ache. The burn is so intense that you’re pausing above him with a trembling lip. Alex drinks you in, his thumb rubbing circles on the muscles of your legs before smirking.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I-I can’t,” you breathe, and you try so hard to keep moving, to keep grinding, but your thighs give out on you, and you slam back down onto Alex. “‘M too tired, can’t keep up…”

“Oh, you can’t? Sounds like you need some help,” and he’s fucking crooning at you in that soft voice that makes you melt.

You’re nodding before you even know it, hips weakly rocking back and forth as Alex sits on his forearms. The two of you stare at each other, the wet squelch between your bodies the only thing audible as you hold your gazes.

“I want you to say it,” he rasps slowly.

“Just fuck me–it doesn’t matter! I-I’m still in charge, and I’m demanding you fuck me.”

“Yeah, you’re demanding like a little brat. What you really want is for me to take control. You’re such a needy little thing. You can’t lie to me.”

“That’s not true!”

“Is it not?” Alex’s hands pull you closer, the two of you still connected. He plants his feet on the bed, and you’re immediately lifted higher into the air as he starts to thrust into you. “Look at you. You know you want it. Aww, you’re so cute like this, honey.”

You’re hiccuping, your gaze downcast as your husband fucks up into you with his raw strength. You’re crying out, grappling for purchase anywhere you can find it: the sheets, Alex’s shoulders, his chest. He fills you up so well, and your eyes grow glassy as he hits that spot deep inside you. 

“Oh god, oh fuck me. Mmf! Alex, fuck, Alex–you’re fucking me so good!”

“Yeah, fuck. Ngh, I love your pussy, baby. You’re everything to me, just wanna make you feel good.”

Your hand comes to rub at your clit, puffy and sensitive, and your fingers tremble as you rub tight circles. It comes at you hot, fast, and fiery as your orgasm courses through you. Every muscle locks up, and you’re keeling over with a sharp cry as you cream on his dick.

“That’s it, there we go. That was all you needed; you just needed me to fuck you. God, can I keep going? Wanna cum so bad, wanna fill you up.”

“Fucking, yes–keep going!”

Everything’s so sensitive to the point it almost hurts, and your belly throbs with that mix of pain and pleasure. You shake above him, feeling Alex bounce your body above him before stilling and cumming hard. It’s so hot that you’re letting out a bleary whine as he fills you to the brim.

Your muscles shake above him, and your voice is weak and panting.

“I–That was not; I was supposed to top you,” you mumble, using every last ounce of your strength to lift yourself up and lay right against Alex’s chest. Your face is smushed into his smooth skin, and he wraps an arm around you immediately, pulling you closer by your waist.

“You did, for a little. You did so good, too,” Alex whispers in your ear, tongue flicking over the shell of it with a huff of a laugh. “You just can’t resist me, and I always know what you need.”

His hands trace random shapes across your ass, nails barely grazing over the sensitive flesh. You’re quiet, planting kiss after kiss along his chest and pecs. He hums lowly, not really saying anything–he doesn’t want to break the quiet. 

“I love having sex with you,” you admit, head tilting up to peer at him. “I just love you.”

“Well, I’d hope so. We are married, after all.”

He’s light. Teasing. Your face flushes, and you curse at the fact that he could still make you blush like a schoolgirl. Your fingers trace a circle around his nipple, and he jerks a bit.

“You know what I mean,” you implore softly.

This wasn’t just about sex, dominance and submission, or more. This was pure, unadulterated love. You wanted to pour your love for him through your eyes, your words, your existence.

“I know. I love you so much,” he whispers your name so quietly you almost miss it.

But you hear it. It’s full of tenderness and love. It’s said in the way you whisper to your lover in the dead of night, knowing they’re not listening but also that they’re still feeling that affection through whatever cosmic osmosis connects the two of you. It’s raw. Authentic. He means the world to you, and you mean the world to him. 

In this moment, it’s pure ecstasy.

[yourtypicalhuman09]

Hay it's me again 🌞

And I came back with some more ideas that may help in working on your story.

1. the game reader wants to give it a culture that doesn't get represented a lot or get represented in the wrong way full of wrong things. For example Like how native Americans are always represented as the wise one connected to nature or the savage and we don't see their cultures and all or how when they always talk about Egypt and the Roman they only speak about their ancient civilizations with zero representation of their current culture in the West.

2. Or put your own culture. The love of seeing people put pieces of themselves into their work.

3. Imagine if the game was about a ballet dancer and that made Cass think at first that the reader took inspiration from her but in reality it's not true. Maybe the reader gave the protagonist of the game that parent who always tells her she's not good enough but in this the reader shows their conflict with themselve whit the mother being that voice in your head that tells you you're not good enough.

4.Imagine if the game the reader made may be about a ballerina but the game is not about ballet. Maybe it's a horror game or something like that like cosmic horror.

5. If the friend of the reader is an older brother figure he has younger siblings, and if his a Younger brother figure he has older siblings. I remember people chose him as an older brother figure. So imagine him naturally falling into older brother behavior. Also, imagine he has a sister and he keeps coming to her room to annoy her. From what I know brothers do that all the time to their sisters. Oh I can imagine Dick's and Jason's seeing reader having siblings dainamic with this boy and realizing how they treat her worse than a stranger. Same for Damian when reader get to befriend the Younger siblings.

6. Imagine if the Reader got attacked by a small or big criminal and she/they beat the life out of them. Red Hood hears screams and when he goes to check it out he finds the reader beating the joker with a ✨crowbart✨. Imagine Batman and Robin also seeing that.

7. imagine Bruce hearing the reader say to a friend something like "if someone rape me I'll kill them". I heard about a woman using this line to sniff out who is okay whit rape and stuff like that, especially among men. I can imagine the reader being more like Alfred in the fact they are ready to kill if needed.

8. the mother and father of the friend are a power couple giving the reader a good example of a healthy relationship. The poor one needs that after having playboys of a father and brothers. If that may affect the plot of the friend back story you can make that one of the siblings of the parents have a healthy relationship with their partner.

9. Reader know what it's like to have a real grandfather figure because of the grandpa of the friend. There's a saying that the grandparents love and look after their grandkids more than their kids. Alfred should feel the 🌸pain🌸 and not be of the hook of the consequences of his actions and lack of actions. Most neglected readers have some form of attachment to Alfred aven when they are aware of how his allowing this to keep happening and sense this is a reader in a healing journey it only makes sense that she gets rude of the unhealthy attachment she has to this man.

10. (This came from the papular reader ask) Reader ending up having a community of their own and a long line of friends and allys. I mean imagine she helped an ender classmate getting better grades then- boom! they now know the students parents and always buy from their bakery. In fact, they'd work there part time to get extra money. A dudes phone died before he was about to pay for his order using it in reader's shift so they decided to pay for it because it's not his fault and the poor dude wanted to get the small cakes to celebrate his friend's birthday- BOOM! turned out to be a gang leader and feel he owed them a favor. Now the entire gang is like "don't touch that one they're a good kid." And it keeps going like that.

I hope you like my ideas and please take your time in this and take care of yourself 🤗

omg yay im so happy to hear your ideas 🌞 anon! Sorry for the late reply school had been absolutely killing me😭✋. Anyways onto the replies!

I can totally see this happening. When i think of a character like the reader in my fic healing, i think of part of it as them opening their eyes to the world. For the longest time the reader had been stuck in their own little world trying to impress their neglectful family, but after realizing that they didnt have to impress anyone they start to open their eyes and see how big the world is and how much they missed out on. Due to this i can totally see them getting a hyper fixation on culture and traditions because they themself never really had one. Their family was neglectful so they never really had any tradition until cyrus and his family came in but thats later lol.

due to their hyper fixation on cultures and people i can totally see them having fun making up their own culture and civilization for their game.

dance and music plays a huge part in culture so i can totally see the reader having the protagonist in their game to be a dancer. Also itd be hilarious to see Cass misunderstand and embarrass herself 😂.

lol itd be super funny to see the batfam see how dark the reader’s mind is, seeing how horrific and gory their horror game would be. Itd def be 18+ due to all of the gore and body horror.

cyrus (thats the reader’s friend in case you didn’t know) definitely has a big family with lots of diverse personalities. Reader would see the family go through the good and the bad, but also see how they always make up and stay together. At first reader would definitely be jealous but, after time passes and they get closer, they see that the family sees them as family too (reader would definitely ask cyrus’ parents to adopt them lol💀). After the batfam see how far reader has drifted into another family’s arms the jealousy and regret would be through the roof.

reader is definitely a bad ass, after taking so many extracurriculars like martial arts they’d definitely kick ass😂. The batfam would be so shocked too like who is this diva😍😍😍.

once reader gets comfortable with themselves and other people i can definitely see them be out of pocket like this. Also reader is definitely a morally grey character, in the poll i posted for the type of reader people chose a cold reader, and although they heal and get better they cant erase their past and still impacted by it because in the end theyre still human.

cyrus’ parents are definitely a power couple, like they have communication, love, and open minds. Of course they fight sometimes but they always talk it out and make sure that their kids are ok after. They themselves have grown throughout their life journey and have learned from their own and their parents’ mistakes. They are very big on communication and understanding other people’s perspectives so i feel like they have a very good relationship with not just themselves but also other people. Youll see when i get to write about them as the story progresses.

the grandpa figure for reader is so goated tbh. I have a notes list of all of my ideas for my fic and the ideas i have for him are so wholesome. Grandparents typically have more free time and are sweeter to their grandchildren, so time with the grandparents are always so fun. Reader will finally experience grandma’s family famous cookies, fishing with grandpa, and just chilling on the patio enjoying the view and each other’s company. And as I established in the fic, reader does not have a good opinion on alfred at all. To them he’s a coward and only sees reader as a way to release his guilt for leaving his own daughter. Reader definitely prefers their new family and it kills alfred and the batfam.

this is such a funny and cool idea. Reader is definitely always unintentionally helping people. Although they are morally grey, they do have a moral code and if you dont do anything that affects them negatively they wont do anything. Reader knows what its like to be alone and have no one to help them so they definitely try to help others when they can (although theyre very nonchalant about it lol😭). Its not their classmate’s fault that the classwork hasn’t clicked for them yet, they just need a little help and its their duty as class president and as a human being to help those in need. And it wasnt that guy’s fault that his phone died at such an inconvenient time so it was no problem to pay for the cakes, plus they didnt cost much either so no biggie. This is all definitely a way for reader to cope with their neglected background.

once again thank you for sharing your ideas 🌞 anon i always enjoy them! And for those who have sent in requests ill be working on them and posting them soon including the next chapter of my fic, since my spring break is this coming week so ill have much more time to write. Anyways like always thank you for reading and have a good day/night!❤️❤️❤️

[fairyhaos]

❖ take care of me anyway // yoon jeonghan

jeonghan x gn!reader, 1.7k+ words

tags: office worker!jeonghan not rlly relevant to the plot tho, sick fic, fluff, established relationship

warnings: brief fever-induced hallucinations ig?? but theyre rlly cute, pet names, reader has a cold

notes: im sick. like, 'i have a cold' sick. and i also have another sick fic planned so uhh yeah im a little Unwell in the head too

There are ten minutes left of Jeonghan’s lunch break when you finally call him.

“Hello, my darling,” he says, his tone both parts dry and amused. “How are you?”

“Sick,” you reply, and even just that word sounds horribly bunged up. “But you knew that already, didn’t you? You called in sick for me.”

Jeonghan just hums, smiling a little as he adjusts the phone against his ear, walking down the street back to his company building. “Maybe I did.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, and he can almost hear you pouting on the other end of the line. There’s a rustling sound as you adjust yourself in bed, and he sighs.

“How sick are you?”

“Very,” you say, miserably, and then give a series of harsh, wet coughs that has him wincing. “Very sick. I only just woke up, but my head is just…” You don’t finish your sentence. Just make a very pained sound like a wounded puppy.

Jeonghan chuckles. “Gee, I wonder how you managed to get so sick. It’s not like walking home in the pouring rain without a coat makes you ill, isn’t it?”

You whine at that, upset. “Han, I told you, I was gonna call you but my phone was dead. I had no choice! Wanted to get home fast to see you,” you add in a mumble, sounding dejected.

He smiles at that. “It wasn’t like I was going anywhere, though,” he points out. “I was all comfortably squished on the couch. I wasn’t gonna disappear any time soon. You could’ve taken your time. Waited for the rain to pass.”

“Yeah, but still,” you huff petulantly, then sniff. “Can you make soup when you get back home?” you ask after a beat, and sniffle again. “And also buy some tissues? And meds? And give me cuddles?”

Jeonghan chuckles at how pitiful you sound, resisting the urge to coo. “No.”

“What?” You’re whining again, and you sound all bunged up but Jeonghan just smiles, amused. “But your darling Y/N is currently suffering the worst cold in the entire world.”

“But alas, I think my darling Y/N is the sole person to blame for this cold,” Jeonghan says, lips twitching upwards. “Don't you think so?”

“Come take care of me anyway.”

“No.”

You make a noise of discontent, sheets rustling as you shift around in bed again. “Hmph. Worst boyfriend ever. I’m breaking up with you.”

That makes him laugh, the stunned sound being pulled out of him by your deadpan tone, and he grins to himself out on the street, rounding the corner until his company building is in sight. “Whatever you say,” he singsongs. “I’ll see later, okay?”

“Whatever. Bye.” A pause. “Have a nice day.”

Jeonghan smiles as you hang up, looking fondly down at your contact name. He’s standing in front of the company entrance, now, and he has three minutes of his break left. Just enough time to get into the elevator and up to his office.

He pockets his phone, turns on his heel and traipses off to find the nearest pharmacy.

───────────── 🧂

You’ve been drifting in and out of sleep the entire day, constantly stuck in that drowsy, so-sick-that-nothing-feels-real state, and you’ve hallucinated Jeonghan coming home a total of thirteen times in the past five hours.

At least, you think it’s been five hours.

Maybe it’s been less than that.

Whatever. Time is weird.

The point is, your mind is all fuzzy and everything feels like it’s floating, so when someone who looks an awful lot like Jeonghan comes into the room, you just groan. Hallucination Jeonghan #14 has come to pay you a visit, it seems, so you just frown and give him the response that you’ve given all his other clones.

“Go away. Stop trying to sell me fish.”

Hallucination Jeonghan #14 makes a confused noise at that, walking closer to your bed, leaning over to adjust your pillows and pull you up into a more upright position.

“I don’t want your fish,” you say, just in case he didn’t hear you the first time. “Stop it.”

That makes the hallucination chuckle, and his hand comes up to your forehead. 

Cold. Huh. None of the other hallucinations touched you before.

His hand drops from your forehead, swiping at the soft skin under your eyes gently, and his fingers are blessedly cool against your skin. You hadn’t realised how much you were burning up before.

“You’re really, really sick,” Hallucination Jeonghan #14 murmurs, and he sounds so concerned, before pulling out a bottle of water from one of the plastic bags he’s holding. Woah, you hadn’t even realised he was holding them. “Here, darling. Drink.”

You obediently take a sip once he uncaps the lid for you, before making small noises of distress when some of it spills down your shirt. Hallucination Jeonghan #14 (wow was it a mouthful to say, even in your head) just hushes you gently, dabbing at it with tissues that he’d procured from the plastic bags. 

“It’s okay,” he says softly, and his hands take yours, clasping them around the bottle. Once you’re holding it, he gets up, and for a horrible moment, you think this hallucination is going to leave again. You kind of like this one.

“Where’re you going?” you ask, but it comes out as more of a slur of vowels. You’re not sure he understood a word.

 “Drink up,” is all he says. He fishes out a packet of pills from the bag (it’s like a magic bag, you think blearily. It seems to have everything inside it). “Have these as well, okay? I’ll go make that soup you wanted.”

You nod, blinking. Dutifully, you sip the water that the hallucination has left you, because really this was one of the most gentle, doting, Jeonghan-like Hallucination Jeonghan and it kind of feels like he really does have your best interests at heart. 

Unlike the other Hallucination Jeonghans, who just wanted to sell you fish. This one really seemed to care about your well-being. 

You blink again, slowly. 

Oh. 

By the time Jeonghan comes back with a gently steaming bowl of chicken soup on a tray with a mug of tea, you're more lucid than before, pouting at him as he comes closer, having remembered his last words before you’d hung up the phone.

“You said you weren’t going to take care of me.”

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, setting the tray on the bedside table, before sitting down on the edge of your bed, wordlessly picking up the bowl and spoonfeeding you some soup. You open your mouth easily, and he hums in approval with a smile.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my darling be sick all alone, hm?” he says. “I can’t do that. Especially if you’re also seeing hallucinations of me who are trying to sell you fish.”

He continues feeding you soup in tiny sips, and the entire situation feels weirdly vulnerable, with you propped up on pillows and Jeonghan making small noises of approval every time you successfully swallow a spoonful. Like you’re a little baby bird, or something.

But he smiles so lovingly at you the entire time, so it’s kind of hard to feel too embarrassed.

“Well done,” Jeonghan murmurs, once you’ve finished half of the bowl. Your boyfriend is affectionate, almost overbearingly so at times, always poking you in the side or pinching your cheeks or tweaking your nose, but the softness with which he treats you right now is a whole other level of affection entirely.

Jeonghan cares deeply for you. You know that. You’ve never doubted how much he loves you, and he never gives you reason to doubt it. But still, when he smooths down your hair and strokes the back of your hand and gazes at you so gently, it makes you realise yet again that oh God, he loves you.

“We’re going to get you to finish the rest of the soup in a minute,” he says, reaching down towards the plastic bag at his feet, “but first. I wanted you to have this.”

Out of the bag, he pulls out…

A fluffy bunny plushie.

You blink, tilting your head, sniffing in confusion and also to try and unblock your bunged up nose. “What?”

“Say hi to Jjongie,” Jeonghan says. “He came up to me when I was buying your soup, and I couldn’t not bring him home.” The bunny’s pink ears flop adorably into its eyes as he holds out the soft toy to you. It even has a cream coloured ribbon around its neck. “He’s gonna keep you company whenever I can’t be here for you.”

“Oh,” you say softly, taking Jjongie from him with a smile. You rub your thumb over the soft fur of the bunny’s cheek. “He’s adorable.”

Jeonghan beams, proud. “Of course he is. He’s a me-substitute.”

You look up at him, smiling. “Han, I—” You can’t finish your sentence, too choked up. Literally. You suddenly start coughing, hand coming up to cover your mouth, and Jeonghan rushes forward with the mug of tea and an opened box of tissues that he suddenly procured out of nowhere.

“Hey, it’s okay, no need to cry over it,” he says teasingly as you glare at him, eyes tearing up from how hard you’re coughing. You accept the tissues and, when he pushes the tea insistently in you direction, you take the mug too.

“Yeah, yeah.” You blow your nose with one hand and then drink the tea, noting with a smile the subtle notes of honey in it. “Thank you,” you add, softly, looking down at Jjongie in your lap. Jeonghan really has gone out of his way for you.

Jeonghan just shakes his head, picking up the soup bowl again. “Thank me once you get better,” he says. “You can take care of me after. I’ll probably be catching your illness from looking after you.”

You grin, blowing your nose again, and even you can’t miss the way that Jeonghan watches you, eyes devastatingly fond.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna look after me anyways, aren’t you?”

Jeonghan grins, unashamedly bright. He taps the spoon against your lips, smiling wider when you sip the soup, the mug of tea in your hands, Jjongie the bunny in your lap. 

“Duh. I love you too much not to.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @butiluvu @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29

[lady-ashfade]

Following The Tune

Percy Jackson x UnknownGod! Half-blood reader. (The reader is the child of the “Unknown” god, other wise known as Caias)

—£ Again, I have not finish the books so I’m making up my own gods/plot and stuff. I just find it fun. Also, reader has a sword like Percy, the pen.

—£ This is just a plot i made up, I just have a oc story in like so I did it! Please don’t hate because it has nothing to do with anything really (Or maybe it does)

—£ Warnings: Slight!Oc!Reader, slight angst, new lore to follow, all over the place, comfort.

The moment you laid your eyes on Percy Jackson- you knew he was different. Everything about him sang a different song the rest here. It was a familiar tone. When you learnt of what he had to face to get here made you guilty, knowing while you were dry and safe he had to face that same doom you faced.

“Maybe, just maybe…” you whispered while he slept. He look almost peaceful but the crinkle in his brows said another thing. Taking a step forward you close your eyes and tried to listen for something. Your senses elevate as you tried to sniff him out. Every was calling out but you couldn’t hold it for too long.

A creek in the floor boards threw you off and took you out of your powers, turning around there stood annabeth with a raised brow and her arms crossed. “I told you not to be in here.” You sighed and picked up your bag. Walking passed her and out of the door but she caught your wrist in her hands. “What did you feel?”

Snatching your arm away from her, a annoyed huff left your lips. “Nothing, not like you ever listen anyway.” You made it out the door before she could say anything to stop you. Now, you didn’t hate annabeth. It was just, no one ever liked to listen to you. She always thought she knew everything and when someone needed something from you- They tried to suck up to you.

But in the years you could call her somewhat of a friend, like everyone else. But there was no trust.

Which is way you made it out of the camp in the same way you always have, with no one noticing. You were the only half-blood in your cabin, no one to stick with at times. So being alone made it easy to slip away from time to time but it was always dangerous to go out. But you always had luck on your side.

Taking a step through the barrier you smiled feeling the human feeling of the air. Making your way to the road you followed, stopped a few times to figure your way to things. Took a few buses with the money you hoarded. 

Smirking when you stepped out on the pavement at your destination. It stunk. The streets sang with chatting of all the mortals, and the smell of greasy food. “Home.” Is what it reminded you of but there was a stench you didn’t like but continued to go about your way into the apartment building.

The empty cabin was looked over by Chiron and Grover, Luke standing by with his arm crossed. “How can they keep getting out like that? I don’t understand.” Grover pondered his thoughts out loud. “Get it from their farther.” Luke commented and shrugged, he smirked again at the thought of you.

“They’ll be safe, hopefully. Does anyone know why they lift this time?” Chiron looked at the boys as the taller one just shrugged again almost uninterested. Grocer shifted nervously and he looked down trying to not say anything but he gave up when the attention was on him.

“They visited Percy before they left. I don’t know why, maybe that has something to do with it?” The older man sighed and closed his eyes, the stress lines already showing. He nodded and walked out without a word while the boys looked at each other. It was a worried look but all they could do was await your return.

It was stupid. He was stupid. He smelled. The apartment smelled of beer that burned your noses and gave you a headache. All he did was sit on the couch and scream at the computer in his lap as you stared at him behind the wall. He was to busy to hear the door open. But you were thankful as his attention was so focused on the screen that he didn’t notice you. All you had to do was focus.

Closing your eyes you calm yourself and let your senses take over and watch for you. Slowly you got ahold of his mind which was dirty to look at, that it made you feel filthy. Making him tired you heard him yawn and feel his body start to give up. Opening your eyes you watch him drift off while he was confused as to why he felt so tired.

Once he was out cold you walked around the apartment with one idea in mind. To find a photo. Sally Jackson and her younger son, Percy Jackson. They weren’t hard to find and you found a wall of them on in the hallway. So many pictures of the family. He was so little and smiling with no clue of the hard world he knew now, his mother still by his side. But all of them had Gabe in them while little Percy glares daggers at him.

Moving on you looked on the tables for just a single photo to take back to him, one small memory to have with him. Then one image become clear.

“Don’t go to far,” her voice sounded lovely. The sun beaming down on the two of them, the sound of waves soothed the soul. “I wouldn’t mom.” It was Percy, you could seem them clearly. The day was beautiful. She smiled at her son as she watches him run off towards the waves, she knew. Watching him play in the water gave a high pitched sound in your ears.

This memory was different. You didn’t search for it. It was a forbidden memory.

The scene became dark and windy. No one seemed to notice and continued to play and smiled like they were. The waves clashed harder on the shore as the wind whistled through the ears. In the both places you covered your ears and tried to pull yourself out of it but nothing was working. Thunder clashed down from the clouds near the sand you walked one, making you jump each time.

“You wish to know? Weak, so very weak. I only show the truth little one,” the darken voice made you tense and watch black smoke come closer as it swallowed everything up. “Just like your father, always looking for trouble. But unlike him, you aren’t as well hidden.” Sometime touched your face, making you scream out in pain as it stung your cheek.

“Let this be known.”

You were pulled out, crushing over for your breath. Placing a hand up on your cheek you felt the pain and wet feeling, pulling it back you saw the red stain. “Blood.” Panicked you looked at the picture that gave you the vision and grabbed ahold of it. It was a core memory, one not to be messed with. Grabbing ahold of it you threw it in your bag quickly.

You frozen when you smelled that dreadful smell again, the sound of something heavy making the flooring creek. Turning around slightly your eyes went wide and took a step back trying to keep yourself from screaming. The large black figure with claws bigger then your face as it’s body took up all the hallway it squeezed itself into. It was your blood. It smelled you.

The green scales on it’s legs you could see made you feel sick, the empty face made you go white. Sprinting to the open window where the fire escaped was it knew what you were going to do and followed you, reaching out for you. Jumping over the railing and down the steps you cried out in fear as it crawled down the building. The screeching alone made you go crazy.

It was one of the faceless. Something your father had made, something that should have been on your side. But your father lost his war to hades and everything had been taken from him. He went into hiding, ignoring the prayers to him and turned his back on mortals. Until he had you. One last chance to be forgiven and have something to his name.

But he was coward, he lost his war and mind. There was nothing in him that you wanted to call your father, for his creations killed your mother. Maybe that’s why you wanted Percy to have the one thing you did not. Something to look at and never forget her face, her smile, the warmth.

“No, No. Nope.” You jumped down and the other way into the alleyway to get out of sight from people. From your pocket a pen, the cape flipped off and the shining blade lit up the shade. The figure come into the alley and looked at you, moving so slowly towards you. It wasn’t a smart choice but your parent wasn’t known for his smarts. But fleeing was.

Just one step…

Blackness started to take over your vision and you limped over the camp line, holding your stomach as something warm and sticky leaked all over your shirt. You used all your might to get to the camp alive, once you did your body gave out. Muffed voices called out to you but you couldn’t see clearly as blurry outlines leaned over you. When you were picked up the last thing you could remember was someone calling’s your name but you didn’t know who.

Percy watch in confusion as someone was rushed away, no one was saying anything. They were blood red, huge cuts across their shirt and skin. As he stared at them he could remember something he saw in a dream. That face…was watching him for a moment while he slept.

Something blinding hit his eyes and made him turn away. He blinked a few times and stepped back to see what it was. A brown frame facedown in the grass, it looked broken and bloody. He bends down and picked up the backpack, then the picture frame.

“Don’t go too far Percy.”

He saw his mom standing in a sunhat while her hair blew over her face, her arm wrapped around his smaller body. The cartoon shark trunks made him cringe, he used to never go swimming without them. This was a picture of him and his mom….What was it doing here? And why was it with someone he didn’t know.

The frame was broken, the glass shattered but he managed to pull the picture out and stand up when Grover called for him. He threw the bag over his shoulders and followed to the room were they had brought the camper he didn’t know. Percy refused to leave, he needed to talk to them. Everything was so confusing and maybe he could get some answers.

He stood at the corner of your room while watching over you, almost protectively. Percy clings onto the photo of his mom, while staying with you. Even started to eat lunch in your room and desperately waited for you to wake. You mumbled in your sleep while panicked and sweating up a storm. The meds they have you took longer to work and the cut on your cheek seemed to stay black while healing, a permanent scar.

“Percy…” the soft voice caught him off guard. Looking at you he noticed you still out like a light. You repeated the words his mother said just as sweet and caring.

Twitching in the bed, you started to groan louder and try to speak but nothing back out of your mouth. Seeing such destress made him scared, it was unlike anything he has seen before. “Y/n.” He walked close to the bed. He learned your name from the others.

“Wake up,” he shook you slightly in hopes to make you somehow wake up. Your body felt hot, too hot. “You’re freaking me out.” Maybe if I hit them with a pillow it will work, he thought to himself. A few seconds of pushing your shoulders and calling your name, he finally saw your eyes open for the first time.

Shifting your eyes in the light and away from the blurry vision you were spooked when something grabbed ahold of you. Jumping back you shoved his hands away, going as far back as possible. The last thing you remember was the faceless creature.

But you didn’t see the creature, but a boy with his hands held out in front of himself. The look on his face matching the slight fear and confusion you felt. “Percy?” You whispered and tilted your head to the side. He nodded and slowly lowered his arms while looking over you for any sign not to trust you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I get that a lot.” He half joked full of sarcasms.

“No, no. You need to leave.” Your hands grip the side of the bed. It clicked in his brain that you didn’t move from your curled up place on the bed, your body still tense and shaking. You were scared of him.

“I’m not going to hurt you- Really, I just want answers.” He inched back to make you more comfortable. You watch him point to the corner, “You had a picture of me and my mom, why?” You look at the photo on the table and then back to him. You kept quiet and looked at the door trying to get him to leave but he didn’t budge.

His nose let out of huff, “Look, I’m not mad- Kinda weirded out but, I just want need some type of answer. No one around me tells me anything. Just give me something.” That’s when you saw him, truly saw him.

You looked at your younger self, standing before you with teary eyes while holding themselves close. No one wanted anything to do with you. It was easy to be forgotten and bullied. A nobody begging for a chance to prove themselves. Percy Jackson was just searching for a place in this world like you.

“I saw you the night before you came. I saw your mother, I saw everything happening but I had no clue.” Pulling your legs up and crossing them while covering yourself with your arms. “You deserve a photo of her, something I never had. Sometimes i follow the tone that’s showed to me,” Percy sat down on the bed listening to your story with all his attention and you could see his guilt, sadness and confusion.

“I heard the tone when I lost my mom, when I was claimed,” you look at the bed next to you, “And when i saw you enter the camp.”

“What does that mean?” Your shoulders go up and down as you hum without a true answer. “That you’re important.” His own shoulders drop down as he looked down at the floor in defeat. He got answers with the price of more questions

It was silent in the room. It was slightly uncomfortable but you could handle it. Then he spoke up, “Thank you by the way, it’s nice to see her.” You meet his eyes once’s again.

“You’re welcome, Percy.” Both your lips curled into a small smile. Maybe new friends were to be made this year.

[serpentandlily]

Lost in a Labyrinth Part III Teaser

Lost in a Labyrinth Part III Teaser

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine.

A/n: guys I thought I’d have a lot more time to write today and I, unfortunately, don’t :(( but here’s another lil sneak peek at what’s to come in the Labyrinth Series!

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Part III Teaser

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…and when he shall die,

Take him and cut him out in little stars,

And he will make the face of heaven so fine

That all the world will be in love with night

And pay no worship to the garish sun.

- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

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The First Attempt

Poison was the easiest and cleanest way to kill somebody. It involved very little effort on your part, just a slip of the hand to pour the poison into their drink when they weren't looking. It usually didn't involve blood or puke unless you got one of the nastier poisons, which you never did anyways. Some of the girls were more sadistic though and well, you couldn't blame them for it.

But while it was the simplest method of killing someone, it was probably one of the harder ones to pull off. First, faeries had very good senses, especially when it came to smell. One sniff of their drink could expose the poison in it, unless you were able to get your hands on one of the odorless ones. Those were more expensive though and Lydia and Keir certainly weren't willing to fund you guys besides your nightly rate from your clients.

However, when you had made a trip to the apothecary in the underbelly of Hewn City, you had begrudgingly forked over the money for one of those clear, odorless poisons. There was no way anything else would get past Azriel and his shadows.

Your heart ached in your chest as you stared at the decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart in your pleasure room. Azriel had been kind to you. He had offered you some mercy by buying out your nights and not returning until that fateful meeting at the party. And while he clearly liked being more dominant while bedding you, his touch had been gentle, soft. No one had ever shown you such care and here you were, plotting out his murder.

But you simply had to do this. Freedom was only one dead body away for you. One more hit and you could finally wash your hands of this place, disappear to another court—perhaps one that would allow you to bathe in the sunlight for the rest of your days, something the citizens of Hewn City had never really experienced.

Kill Azriel.

Kill the shadowsinger and you'll be free to go.

Those had been Keir's exact words.

You had killed before. There was a time when your finger was covered in black lines, a new one added every time you didn't have enough money to pay the house fee or enough for food and had to borrow from Lydia. One every time you failed to perform for a client, no matter what they asked of you. But now you were down to one last mark.

One for the Shadowsinger.

One for Azriel.

You let out a sigh, sitting down at your vanity to brush your hair. Azriel was due to show up any moment now. Ever since that night at the party, he had been coming by at this time every single night. He would buy out all the nights Lydia would allow him to before showing up.

He never even made it seem like he expected sex on any given night. Sometimes the two of you would just cuddle in bed, whispering stories to each other about your lives. Sometimes he would come all tense and frustrated with whatever the High Lord had demanded of him. On those nights you would offer to give him a massage and listen to him complain about how much he hated his work. It seemed like the two of you had that in common, at the very least.

You hadn't made any attempts yet. You told yourself it was because you were planning out the best way to kill Azriel. Poison, knives, strangling. There were a multitude of ways to do it. But you knew deep down what the true reason was. You had grown fond of the Shadowsinger. You didn't want to kill him.

But your wants and needs had never really ever agreed with each other your whole life.

So here you were. Waiting for Azriel to come so you could poison him and be done with this Gods awful place. You wanted out of the labyrinth and unfortunately, this was the only way.

No matter how much you liked Azriel, he was the one standing in the way of your freedom.