#(lol the gif is v mars)

[reidsworld]

Patience Wears Thin

Summary: Logan’s flirty behaviour has you thinking he’s just being sarcastic. But when his attitude changes and his grumpiness intensifies, leading to him avoiding you, you confront him, only for him to finally snap. Based on this request.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Reader’s oblivious, mild language, sexual tension, slight jealous!logan, making out, hickeys, oral sex(m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), creampie, (semi) public sex (you’ll see what I mean), no use of Y/N, pet names (darlin’) — you are responsible for the content you consume, if you are not comfortable with any of these warnings or are a minor, DNI!!

Word Count: 2.9k

Mars speaks… It's been a while since I’ve posted but here we are!! Thank you for the request, this was kinda tough for me to write and didn’t really turn out how I wanted it but I hope it meets your expectations! The reader is a mutant but her powers aren’t specified. Any and all feedback is always appreciated!

Masterlist

You were used to Logan’s gruffness, but lately, something had changed. At first, it was little things—him hanging around more often, offering to help with tasks that didn’t need his strength, or staying close by even when you were just making coffee. You noticed the way his hand would brush against yours when passing you something or how he’d rest his hand on your shoulder a little longer than necessary. Despite all of his actions, he was still cold around you, seemingly never able to escape his own grumpiness.

One evening, as you were getting ready for a date, Logan wandered by your room. His mood was clearly off as he knocked leaned against your door frame, his eyes closed and head tilted down. When you greeted him, he slowly looked you up and down. His expression shifted from frustration to shock as he took in how stunning you looked.

“Damn,” Logan said, his voice cold and deep, if you didn’t know him, you would’ve sworn he hated you. “You look incredible. Got a big night planned?”

You glanced up from the mirror, surprised by his comments. “Oh, I have a date tonight,” you replied with a smile, still adjusting your dress.

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly as he processed your words. “A date, huh?”

“Yep,” you said, focusing on your reflection. “I’m just trying to pick the right outfit.”

He pushed himself off the door frame, his gaze still fixed on you. “You don’t need to be worried about impressing anyone tonight, darlin’. Trust me, you look incredible.”

You laughed, thinking he was just being his usual flirtatious self. “Thanks, Logan. But it’s just dinner. Nothing too serious.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he took a step back, his demeanour now distant. “Right. Well, have fun.”

You smiled at him, not noticing the shift in his attitude. “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

As you left for your date, Logan watched you go, his face a mask of frustration and disappointment. The knowledge that you were going out with someone else hit him hard, and his mood darkened.

You were left puzzled by his sudden change in behaviour. However, in Logan’s mind, if you were going out with someone else, you clearly didn’t want him, so why should he put effort into a losing game?

But you didn’t think much of his compliments, chalking it up to Logan trying to be supportive. Until one day, you noticed something different—he started avoiding you.

It began with him skipping out on the usual training sessions you shared. Then, he stopped joining you for movie nights in the common room, always coming up with a vague excuse that didn’t make sense. He’d disappear for hours, not even leaving a trace of his familiar scent behind. The final straw was when he didn’t show up for your breakfast dates (well… that’s what they were to him), a ritual he never missed. It was confusing, and you couldn’t figure out what had changed.

You asked him once, in passing, if something was wrong. His answer was clipped, dismissive. “Nothin’ for you to worry about, darlin’.”

But you were worried. His behaviour was off, and no matter how much you replayed your interactions in your mind, you couldn’t pinpoint what had triggered this sudden shift.

A few days later, you walked into the kitchen to find Logan grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Relief washed over you—this was the first time you’d seen him in days without him immediately bolting. But when you greeted him, he barely grunted in response, not meeting your eyes.

“Logan, seriously,” you said, trying to sound casual but unable to keep the concern out of your voice. “What’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me.”

His jaw clenched, and he didn’t respond right away, his eyes fixed on the bottle in his hand. “Just been busy.”

“Busy?” You frowned, crossing your arms. “Too busy to even say hello?”

He looked up at you then, his eyes hard. “Yeah, busy. I don’t have time for games, alright?”

“Games?” you echoed, thrown off by the accusation. “What are you talking about? I’m not playing any games, Logan.”

He let out a frustrated huff, shaking his head as he pushed past you, brushing your shoulder as he went. “Forget it.”

That was it? He was clearly upset, but he wouldn’t talk to you about it. It didn’t make sense. You stood there, staring at the spot where he’d just been, confusion and hurt swirling inside you. Logan was the last person you expected to act like this—especially toward you.

A few more days passed, and the tension between you only grew. Logan’s avoidance became more blatant, and every time you tried to approach him, he’d find a way to leave before you could say anything. You started to wonder if you’d done something to upset him, but every time you asked, he brushed you off with a noncommittal grunt or a sarcastic remark.

It was driving you crazy.

Now you were sitting alone in the common room, you and Logan somehow being the only two in the mansion with everyone else out on various missions and overnight school trips. As you attempted to watch a movie to take your mind off things, Logan’s absence gnawed at you. He was always here for movie nights, even if he’d just sit silently in the corner. The emptiness of his usual spot was glaring, a constant reminder that something had shifted between you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to confront him, to find out what the hell was going on.

When you walked into the gym, your eyes immediately found Logan, his muscular form sitting on a raised bench, sweat glistening on his skin. He didn’t acknowledge your presence, focusing on his workout with an intensity that made your stomach twist.

“Logan,” you called out, your voice firmer than you felt.

He paused, setting the dumbbells down with a heavy thud before finally looking at you. “What?”

“What is your problem?” you demanded, stepping closer, not giving him a chance to escape this time. “You’ve been avoiding me like the plague, and I want to know why.”

Logan’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat off his face. “Maybe I’m just tired of tryin’,” he muttered, his voice low.

“Trying what?” You crossed your arms, frustration boiling over. “Logan, you’re not making any sense. You’ve been acting like I did something wrong, but I don’t even know what that is!”

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite place—anger, maybe? But there was something else too, something deeper that made your heart race.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he growled, stepping closer to you, his presence overwhelming.

“Get what?” you shot back, refusing to back down even though his proximity was making it hard to think straight.

Logan huffed, his hand running through his hair in a rare display of frustration. “I’ve been tryin’ to show you, but you’re too damn blind to see it.”

“Show me what?” You were at your wit’s end, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

His eyes bore into yours, intense and unyielding. “That I want you, darlin’. I’ve wanted you for a long damn time, and I’m sick of you not seein’ it.”

You stared at him, stunned into silence. This was the last thing you expected him to say. Logan—gruff, no-nonsense Logan—wanted you? The thought was so far from anything you’d ever imagined that you couldn’t even process it.

“You…you want me?” you finally managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the frustration in his eyes palpable. “I’ve been tryin’ to show ya, but you keep thinkin’ I’m just bein’ a grumpy bastard.”

You blinked, completely floored by his confession. “Logan, I…I didn’t know. I thought…”

“Thought I was messin’ with ya?” he finished for you, his voice rough, almost bitter. “That’s why I’ve been avoidin’ ya—figured if you couldn’t see it by now, I was just wastin’ my time.”

The weight of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. You hadn’t seen it, not because you didn’t want to, but because the idea that Logan could feel that way about you seemed impossible. And now, standing here, with him staring at you like you were the only person in the world, you realised how wrong you’d been.

“Logan, I’m sorry,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. “I didn’t know. I never thought…”

“Don’t apologise,” he cut you off, his voice softer now, but still edged with frustration. “I’m just done waitin’, darlin’. I can’t keep doin’ this—dancin’ around it, hopin’ you’ll figure it out.”

You took a shaky breath, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to think. “What do you want, Logan?”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a way that made your knees weak. “You, darlin’. I’ve always wanted you.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, rough and demanding, as if he was trying to make up for all the time lost in that one kiss. The force of it stole your breath, your hands automatically reaching up to clutch his shoulders as you kissed him back just as fiercely.

Logan’s grip on you tightened, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing your lips until you parted them, letting him in. The taste of him—smoke, whiskey, and something unmistakably Logan—filled your senses, making your head spin.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breathing ragged, his pupils blown wide with desire. “Still think I’m jokin’?”

You shook your head, your heart racing, your thoughts scattered. “No,” you breathed out.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours before he started kissing his way down your jaw, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. “’Cause I’m gonna show you exactly how much I want you.”

His mouth found the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin before he bit down gently, making you gasp. Your hands fisted in his shirt, needing something to hold on to as his hands moved to your thighs, lifting you and moving to sit on the bench. Your legs desperately straddled him, pulling him closer.

Logan’s hands were everywhere—sliding under your shirt, tracing the curve of your waist, skimming up your ribs, his touch igniting a fire in you that you hadn’t realised was there. He was careful, almost reverent, despite the rough edge to his movements, as if he was holding himself back from completely losing control.

When his hands found your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the fabric of your bra, you arched into him, a whimper escaping your lips. He growled, the sound low and primal, as his mouth found yours again, his kiss fierce and demanding.

You could feel the hardness of him pressing against your core, the friction sending waves of pleasure through you, and you couldn’t help but rock your hips against him, seeking more.

Logan’s response was immediate, his hands gripping your hips as you ground against him, his mouth devouring yours as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You were lost in the sensation, in the heat and the intensity of him, and it was all you could do to hold on.

Just when you thought you might lose yourself completely, Logan pulled back, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild as he looked up at you. “Tell me to stop,” he rasped, his voice strained, as if it was taking everything in him to hold back. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

But the last thing you wanted was for him to stop. You shook your head, your voice breathless as you whispered, “Don’t stop.”

Logan let out a low, feral sound, his lips crashing against yours again as he ripped off your shirt. His patience had worn thin, and now there was no turning back. As your lips roughly moulded together, tongues battling for dominance, your hands slid under his tank-top, brushing over his abs. You pulled away, taking off his shirt, jaw dropping at the sight of his glistening body from the sweat of his workout.

“Holy shit, you should be shirtless more often…”

He didn’t respond, his hand grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into another kiss. Your hands trailed down his chest, fingers sliding down his happy trail. Climbing off him, you dropped down to your knees in front of him. He raised his hips as you pulled down his sweatpants and boxers, his dick springing out and slapping against his stomach.

You didn’t give him time to process what was happening as you immediately licked a stripe up his dick before taking the head into your mouth, tongue brushing against the tip, making him throw his head back against the bench and groan.

Your hands gently massaged his balls as your mouth focused on the head of his cock, gently sucking as his hand moved to gather your hair into a make-shift ponytail. You lowered your head, taking more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks.

Looking up through your lashes, your eyes met with his while you began to move your head up and down faster, your hands touching whatever couldn’t fit into your mouth. You continued this until your jaw was aching and his dick was twitching in your mouth.

He began to gently thrust into your mouth, making you gag as he hit the back of your throat. One of your hands slid down into your shorts, rubbing your clit before pushing a finger into your dripping pussy.

“Fuck, so good darlin’,” he grunted as you moaned around him, slipping another finger into yourself.

“If you don’t stop now, m’gonna cum, wanna feel you ‘round me.”

He pulled you off of him, revelling in your dishevelled appearance. You stood up, and pulled off your shorts and panties. You reached behind you, unclipping your bra, letting it slide off your body. His eyes trailed up and down your body admiring you. You bit your lip at the way his eyes shined with something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you never wanted him to stop looking at you like that.

You silently moved to straddle him, pulling him into a slow kiss as your bare core grinded against his cock. One of his hands wrapped around you, trailing up and down your back as you both sat there, grinding against each other. His other hand reached down and grabbed your hip.

You raised your hips as you reached for his cock, positioning at your entrance before slowly sinking down onto him. You leaned forward and he fell back against the bench and buried your face in his neck, letting out a simultaneous moan as you stretched around him. You stayed still, adjusting to his size, panting into his neck, making him harder than he thought possible.

Once you were ready, you slowly raised your hips before sinking back down onto him. His hands moved to grip your hips as you began to ride him, gently helping you. You kissed him roughly, moaning into his mouth as his hips thrust up to meet yours.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the loud moans and groans coming out of your mouths. In that moment, neither of you cared where you were— that there was a chance someone could easily walk in on you even though it was just the two of you in the mansion. All you two cared about was the feeling of him inside of you and how you wrapped so tightly around him.

He let out a rough groan as your lips met his neck, biting into it when his hips met yours. Bouncing on his dick, you clenched around him, making him let out an almost feral sound.

“Oh fuck don’t stop, wrapped so tightly ‘round me, s’like you were made for me.”

“‘M all yours, Lo.”

“Shoulda never avoided you, shoulda just manned up and kissed you, ‘stead of waiting ‘round for you to realise that I want you.”

If you weren’t so desperate for him, you would’ve laughed but all you could do was moan and nod into his neck.

“‘M gonna cum, Lo.”

“Give it to me, darlin’.”

His hand reached to roughly circle your clit, sending you over the edge. You moaned out as a feeling of ecstasy overcame you and your vision went white. Your body slumped against his but his thrusts were relentless. As they got sloppier, you could feel his dick twitch inside of you, making you moan.

“I’m so close, need to cum inside you.”

His mouth pressed against your neck, marking you like a blank canvas for everyone to see later. He pounded up into you, his hand still rubbing your clit causing you to cum for a second time. You tightened around him, making him shoot his cum deep inside you.

His thrusts slowed, fucking you through it as you both panted, trying to catch your breath. His movements came to a stop and he titled his head back, letting out a deep breath.

You raised your head, looking into his eyes and laughing,

“I can’t believe I could’ve had this so much sooner if I wasn’t so obvious.”

Mars speaks… (again) woah that got… 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

Tags… @pastelpinkflowerlife

[ichorai]

i'm not made by design ; part two ; jaime lannister.

part one.

pairing ; jaime lannister x stark!reader (she/her pronouns)

synopsis ; wolves and lions tend not to be friends, much less lovers.

words ; 9.0k

themes ; heavy angst, action, fluff, (actual) enemies to lovers, slowburn

warnings / includes ; war/murder/injury, this part covers a few events from a feast for crows, politicking, mentions of incest/rape, foul language, animal cruelty, a lot of generally terrible things going on but what else can you expect from asoiaf, lots of dreams, jaime is a morally grey delight in this part yes, they are being HAUNTED by each other!

a/n ; wow, it's been a long time coming! ok i know this part is quite short and doesn't yet get to where you guys probably want to be, but tumblr has a max limit of 1k text blocks per post now (boo everyone throw tomatoes) so i'll be posting the rest of the story in smaller chunks! expect the third part to be coming soon, and i promise part three will start off exactly where you guys want it to be :) also if any of you can spot any sort of parallels in this part i will kiss you on the Mouth .

main masterlist. read on ao3!

The wintry breeze tousled the two young Stark girls’ hair, whispering frost into their ears. The horse the two were riding whickered as it galloped through the snow. Lyanna was exclaiming something, something lost to the wind, and you only held all the tighter to her from behind. 

“Lyanna, I want to get off!” you yelled, tugging at the furs draped over her. “Lyanna, let me off!”

Your older sister laughed some more. Not wickedly, but more out of fond amusement. She slowed the horse down to a languid canter, then to a trot, and led the stallion towards the shade of a tree. There was snow blanketing the branches and the grass which crunched beneath her weight as she swung down. She looked up at you with her large grey eyes, crinkled at the corners as she grinned boyishly. “Were you frightened?” 

You held your arms out for your sister to help you down. Only at eight years of age, you were still of short stature, and Lyanna had picked a rather tall horse. She had always been a voracious rider, even more so than all your brothers.

“I wasn’t frightened,” you indignantly replied as she wrapped her arms about your waist and pulled you down onto the ground. 

“Right.” She began to stroke the stallion’s mane, his hooves pawing at the snow. “Do you not trust me, then? Did you think I would ride us right off the edge of a cliff?”

“No,” you replied, scuffing your boots against the snow. “I don’t like riding from behind. I can’t see anything from back there.”

There was a moment of silence before Lyanna reached over to ruffle your hair—an action that both she and Benjen often did. Eddard and Brandon often spared you from such irritations, but being the youngest of the family, you were always doted on and hovered over and babied.

“I don’t trust you riding a horse as big as this, so I suppose we can walk back. It’s not too far.”

“Why can’t I just sit in front of you?”

Your sister stuck her tongue out at you. “We’ve got something in common, you know. What makes you think I like sitting behind?” When you glowered at her, she went on, “Let’s get a move on. Ned will complain that I’m stealing you away—especially since he’s just returned. He misses you. Your letters grow briefer and briefer, he tells me.”

You were none too happy about trudging through the snow, but you voiced no complaint and walked alongside your sister, who tugged at the horse’s reins to follow along. 

“He’s always going back and forth,” you said, a small frown marring your features. “I wish he would just stay home. The Eyrie couldn’t possibly compare to Winterfell.”

“You know him.” Lyanna’s dark hair was speckled with snowflakes as she turned to you. “Studious and dutiful as ever.” Her voice went an octave deeper and she pulled a mockingly somber expression in a startling resemblance to Ned. You let out a small laugh at that.

“Last time he visited, you were betrothed,” you said, your voice shrinking to a whisper.

The amusement died away from her eyes, turning stony. “Yes. Though I doubt it will be a fruitful union.”

There were a few more seconds of silence as you considered her words, not entirely sure why she would think so. Robert was loud and robust the few times you’ve met him, but you knew little else of Ned’s friend. 

“Do you think he’ll bring a wedding proposal for me this time?”

Lyanna’s features contorted with surprise. “Why? Do you want to be married?”

Your cheeks flushed with heat, despite the frost settling over your skin. “Well—if Father says I have to, then I will.”

“I didn’t ask about Father,” replied Lyanna. It was hard for her to believe that you were only eight sometimes. You always tried to act older than you actually were. “I asked about you.”

Winterfell grew larger and larger as the two of you drew nearer to the castle gates. Home.

“I don’t think I’d mind getting married,” you told your sister, eyes downcast and brows pulled together in thought. “As long as I get to stay in Winterfell. I never want to leave.”

Lyanna smiled, all teeth and cheek. “Wouldn’t that be a dream?” she sighed. 

The rest of the short journey was made in relative silence, and you left your sister and the tall stallion by the stables (not without her ruffling your hair one last time), and you dashed up to the castle chambers where you knew Ned would be.

He carried no proposals, only a few books he thought you would enjoy and a warm hug.

You awoke with a startled gasp, kicking at the thin blanket that laid over your form. It took you several moments to realize where you were. A boat. Rocking steadily, back and forth and back and forth. You rubbed at your sleepy eyes whilst drawing your knees up to your chest, still blinking away remnants of your dream.

Lyanna. Ned. Still young, still practically children. 

One of the tongueless little birds stood in the doorway. It was an ominous sight. Her eyes were large and unblinking, glinting like glass balls within her small head. In her hands was a wooden bowl, full of what looked to be a poultice of sorts. She drew nearer, and the heavy scent of honey and flowers reached your nose. 

“What is it?” you asked the child, a coil of pity winding in the pit of your stomach. You knew they couldn’t respond—Varys had stolen not only their youth, but their voices, too. “Is this food?”

A foreign delicacy of sorts, maybe? An Essosi dessert you weren’t familiar with, perhaps. It looked quite unappetizing, though you knew you had no room to complain.

The girl shook her head, then pointed to your hair, which was pulled back into a braid. You understood from just that, and nodded your thanks while accepting the bowl from her. This was hair dye, made from a blend of flowers and other substances you couldn’t name. You supposed it was a necessary precaution—you had an unmistakable Northern look to you, and would surely stick out like a sore thumb here down South. Dyeing your hair and cutting it short would help to somewhat conceal your identity. Short enough, and perhaps you could even be mistaken for a man, at least at a first quick glance. 

The little girl left a dagger and a small, rusty, hand-held mirror by your legs and disappeared from your cabin in complete silence, as if she was never there in the first place. They were like ghosts, this crew of children. Everything was so quiet all the time, with only your thoughts and the ocean waves to accompany you.

You unbraided your hair and shook it loose. Hair carried memories. Memories of Catelyn showing you how hair was done in the Riverlands, memories of Benjen tugging at your hair to tease you, memories of Jaime commenting on how your hair was a lovely shade of animal waste. That had been grumpily remarked earlier on, when you and Brienne were escorting him to King’s Landing. Before Locke and Roose Bolton and… Robb. 

You propped up the rust-spotted mirror against the wall and scooped up the dagger. The reflection that met you was only barely recognizable. You looked so tired. With a resigned sigh, you began to slice off your hair with the sharp blade. Handfuls fell to the ground. You sliced and sliced until your head felt light and your neck was bare. It’s never been this short before. If Benjen were here, you knew he would surely laugh at you. Brandon would comment that he never knew he had another brother. 

Yes, you thought. I can surely pass as a man if I wanted to. Though you certainly shared many features with your sister, you hadn’t the wild beauty Lyanna had. No, you were far plainer than her, colder and sharper than she was. Nothing worthy to note—though your father, quiet as a man he was, once told you that you looked the most like your mother out of all your siblings. That had made you feel more beautiful than anything. 

Plain was good, though. Plain meant no eyes would be drawn to you. 

You weren’t too sure what color your hair would turn with this dye. You lathered the thick paste over your newly-cut strands, massaging it into your scalp. Your nose twitched from the strong odor—not entirely unpleasant, but also wasn’t a delight breathing in.

As you rinsed your hands of the dye, your skin was left with a slight copperish stain. You stared at the color with sad eyes—would your hair turn out red like Cat’s? Like all your nephews and Sansa?

And, like a fool, you wondered if Jaime would like short, red hair. He wouldn’t care much, you found yourself thinking, perhaps wishfully so. Did you want him to care?

Two children brought you food—rations of dried meat and crusty bread. You wolfed half of it down and handed them the other half. Though they couldn’t speak, the children made for pleasant company. Or perhaps you were just lonely. It was hard to tell.

After eating, you rinsed out the hair dye and wrung the water out with a cloth over the edge of the ship. The cloth came away stained bright red. You retreated back into the cabin to look at the mirror. 

It was a shock to see your hair resemble Catelyn’s. It was darker than hers had been, but the auburn, orange-red sheen to your head was unmistakable. You looked like a Tully! You nearly laughed with amazement, but any sort of joy was short-lived, and you lapsed into more silence.

You laid on the rickety bed, thinking of Winterfell and your now-scattered family. Robb and Ned and Cat and the younglings Bran and Rickon might have been taken from you, but… you still had family left. Sansa and Arya could very well be scattered somewhere in the Seven Kingdoms, alive and breathing. Jon, at the Wall, as well. At least, you hoped. It’d been so long since your time sending letters to the young boy. Was he hurt that you stopped sending them so suddenly?

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you drew your knees to your chest, willing yourself into a restless slumber.

Days came and went. The little children were growing more agitated, fluttering about the boat with wide eyes and quick feet. They tossed nets overboard into the water—masquerading the boat as a fishing vessel, you assumed. There were many ships out and about Blackwater Bay. Some carried banners of houses loyal to the crown, and others were bannerless. Pirates or fishermen, you couldn’t tell. 

So far, all other ships have passed by quietly. But the risk grew with each day. You knew Tywin and Cersei would likely order more fleets to be sent after you, Sansa, and Tyrion. The chances of you being found on water would grow each day—and you couldn’t risk becoming a prisoner again. Jaime wouldn’t be able to help you escape a second time, not with Cersei around.

At least on foot… you had somewhere to run. Being on sea left you nothing but water for miles on end. 

And so you told the silent children to let you off at the nearest fishing port. Some part of you wondered if they would object, but they stared at you with round, moon eyes and nodded. You didn’t know whether to thank or damn Varys. 

The ship docked in the dead of night, half a mile from Duskendale. One of the little children handed you a map and tapped at where they’d leave you. A pouch full of food rations, more dye, and other necessities was left on your cot. You thanked the child endlessly, who seemed not to hear your gratitude and scuttled away. You grabbed the pouch, the dagger, the bow and quiver full of arrows Varys had presumably left you, and slipped into a large cloak. 

Land felt like it was lurching beneath your feet once you stepped onto the pier. Your body was used to the swaying motions of the waters, and would take some time to adjust. You gingerly shook one of your booted feet. The children watched you disembark on wobbly legs, but you dared not wave back at them. 

Despite it being nighttime, the docks were busier than ever. Fishermen and merchants littered all over the shore, some selling products and entertainment and others working hard to gather more to sell before day broke. You steeled yourself with a deep breath, and made your way through the busy crowd. 

You began trekking your way North towards the Eyrie, the hood of your cloak pulled over your short, red hair.

It took nearly three weeks for you to reach the Crossroads. Nightfall was nearing when you strode in front of the inn, the sky a mirage of bleeding reds from the setting sun and moody greys from the rainclouds. The air smelled of mud and rusted metal. It was certainly no grand castle, but a modest bed was better than sleeping on the cold dirt you’ve been curled up on the past several days. There was a young girl and a dark-haired boy by the front that looked somewhat like your memory of Robert Baratheon twenty-some years ago. At first, the boy denied your request for shelter, but reluctantly clammed up once you offered him some gold, worth more than it ever could in times of war. The two let you pass with not a word more.

Greeting you inside was a ruckus of loud children. Parentless, you realized, as there were none to be seen within the inn’s walls. An inn full of orphans, you thought with a touch of sadness. In that regard you supposed you shared a similarity with all of them. 

Just as you slipped onto one of the creaking wooden stools to momentarily rest your weary feet, you overheard a voice. A familiar voice. Low and raspy and unmistakably—

Brienne, you thought, wide-eyed. But she wasn’t alone. A young boy was by her side, yes, that was Podrick, and an older man—a knight, by the looks of his armor, and an even older septon with grey hair and a hunched back. What a queer party Brienne was leading. She was supping on porridge and salted cod. 

The impulsive part of you wanted to call out for her and rush to her side, ask if she had found any sign of Sansa, or if she had made any progress on her quest. Instead, you drew in a deep breath, and stood from your stool to take a seat across from Podrick whilst Brienne was busy speaking to the knight. The young squire made a half-gasping, half-choking noise once his eyes raised from the cup he was draining to your cold eyes, recognizing you immediately. You discreetly lifted a finger to your lips to silence him. His eyes went moon-round and he nodded once. 

Brienne ignored the knight’s constant jabbering about lips and marriage and castles full of children, and turned to look at her squire in mild concern of him choking on a fish bone. But her eyes landed on you, and her mouth dropped open.

She was very near to bowing her head and saying, “My lady.” But she didn’t, knowing it would draw far too much attention, and stared at you with utter confusion plain over her features.

“Hello,” you said to her. “It has been a while, Brienne.”

“Do you know each other?” the knight bumped in. He spooned some porridge into his mouth.

“Brienne and I were childhood friends on Tarth,” you lied. “I was the son of a cook. A nobody in truth, but Brienne was kind enough to befriend me.”

Brienne was no good at lying, you knew this, but she nodded along to your story. 

The knight looked you over. “A little runt boy and a grand beast of a girl. The two of you must have been a sight.”

You could only offer him half a shrug at that.

“What brings you here?” Brienne carefully asked you. 

“Someone helped me leave,” you responded with equal caution. Avoiding the knight’s curious eyes, you leaned closer to Brienne. “Is there a place for us to speak with fewer naked children milling about?”

Being around Varys’ little birds for long enough taught you that children were oft smarter than they looked. Somewhere to your right, you saw one of the little orphan boys stick a nut inside his nostril. 

Brienne nodded and led you just outside, away from prying ears and eyes. There, you told her everything. From Tyrion’s trial, to Oberyn’s death, to Cersei demanding you to be locked up or killed (whichever suited her taste that day), to Jaime helping you escape, to the birds on the boat, to your journey here. In turn, Brienne told you of her lengthy journey and what she had found on the way. Mostly nothing, lots of war and skirmishes. Sandor Clegane was dead, but Arya had been with him soon before that… not Sansa. The thought of Arya somewhere out there alive, sparked dangerous hope within your chest.

“Varys says Sansa is in the Eyrie, masquerading as Baelish’s bastard daughter.” The thought revolted you. “But I do wonder if the Eyrie is a trap of sorts. I cannot trust Varys. He certainly is no friend of the Lannisters, but neither is he their enemy. For all I know, he may be conspiring with dragons and grumpkins.”

“Sansa would be safe with her Aunt Lysa there, right?” Brienne asked, though even she sounded doubtful of her own question.

“I can’t quite say,” you said, brows furrowed. “Lysa is an unpredictable woman. Frightened and secluded is never a good combination of characteristics. Even so, I doubt Sansa would make her way home up North without being intercepted. It wouldn’t hurt to check the Vale first.”

Brienne nodded solemnly. “We can make our way first thing in the morning. For now, you must rest, my lady. You must be exhausted.”

The sudden reminder of the limitations of your body made your knees wobble. The past few days had you running on little else than adrenaline, fear, and meager portions of salted foods. 

“I missed you, Brienne,” you whispered, looking up at her. “I fear trusted friends are few and far in between in these times.” Not that you ever had many friends to begin with. Everyone had always been so afraid of you—something Brienne could relate to.

 The term friend dusted pink over Brienne’s large, crooked nose and broad, freckled cheekbones. She was certainly not pretty, not by a long shot, but that was of no matter to you. She was the most beautiful blessing you could have possibly encountered—your chances of survival and finding Sansa were far better with Brienne by your side.

“I missed you, as well,” Brienne managed to choke out after many moments of stunned silence. She had never been good with niceties. “Podrick has been company enough, but the boy is young and easily frightened.”

“I’m frightened, too,” you admitted. “One would be a fool not to be, with enemies at every turn. Young, however, is a trait I have long outgrown.”

Brienne looked up at the night sky. “Youth was a curse on me. I always looked older than I was.”

“Me, as well,” you mused with a thoughtful hum. Memories of the lords and ladies living at Winterfell’s court whispering behind your back… sending you strange looks of distant pity… veering far out of your way in fear of you… it weighed heavy on you, especially in your younger years. “My anger has aged me a decade, I think.”

Before Brienne could respond, there came a commotion of noise. Men on horses, their hooves schlocking through mud and puddles. Instinctively, you drew the cowl of your hood up over your head. They are armed, these men, you thought with grim unease. And there were many of them, just above half a dozen. Far too many for you and Brienne to take alone.

Brienne drew in a sharp breath at the sight of them and unsheathed Oathkeeper. She stepped in front of you before you could even begin to react. The biggest man of the party was so hefty that his beaten horse buckled and shook beneath the sheer force of his weight. His pale face was torn and wept with pus and blood. But Brienne’s eyes were drawn to his snarling helm—with its dull metal nose and sharp teeth of steel. It was the Hound’s property but the man wearing it was certainly no Hound.

The sky grew darker and the storm clouds thundered up above. The young girl that had greeted you into the inn had slammed the door open, now holding a crossbow. Whatever she was screaming was lost to the rain and thunder. 

“Loose a quarrel at me and I’ll shove that crossbow up your cunt and fuck you with it. Then I’ll pop your fucking eyes out and make you eat them,” raged the man, his voice nearly as loud as the booming in the sky. Your chest rose and fell in silence as you slowly reached behind you to unsling your bow. 

“Leave her be,” called out Brienne, drawing their attention. “If you want to rape someone, try me.”

The outlaws laughed and chortled at that. One japed about fucking horses before fucking her. The rest of their words were unintelligible to you as you focused on drawing an arrow without pulling too much attention to yourself. It proved to be a difficult task when there were seven pairs of eyes trained on Brienne, and, consequently, you, as well.

Brienne said something you couldn’t catch, leaving the man with the helm fuming. He charged forward through the mud. Brienne shuffled away from you—she needed the man to come to her, but not to get too close to you. You were her priority now.

A song of steel screeched through the rain-torn wind as their swords clashed. Brienne managed to cut through the rags of his tunic and slash a gaping hole in his cheap chainmail just before she just barely evaded his swinging axe. The man was screaming expletives at her—whore, bitch, freak. 

You nocked the arrow with not a second thought.

Then the drawstring was split in two and you were left with a useless bow. One of the outlaws had made his way to you whilst you were concentrating on the man with the helm—and broke your favored weapon. 

“Shhh,” he crooned as he laid the cold, wet blade of the knife he used to cut your bow against your throat. “Enjoy and watch the show, boy.” He must have thought you were one of the orphans that lived here—and not much of a threat, considering he pulled the knife away from you and made a show of pointing it towards Brienne and her attacker. “It’s not every day you see a woman like her battle a man like him.”

You nodded, playing along. You still had the dagger you used to cut your hair tucked against your hip. It was a touch too dull for your liking, but it would have to do for now. You had no other choice. With the man’s eyes drawn back to their messy duel, you drew its blade and drove it forth, straight into throat. His arms flailed for a second before clawing at your face and chest. Pain bloomed over your skin. If you were bleeding, you couldn’t feel it—not with all the rain pouring over you. You savagely tore the dagger out from his throat and drove it through his chest again and again and again. From your peripheral vision, you could see Brienne parry over and over, stab this way and that—and finally skewer her longsword straight through him until its pointy end protruded out his back.

You continued stabbing the man until he fell to the ground in a limp, bloodied heap. Even then you didn’t stop—straddling his waist and bringing the dagger down in furious strokes. It occurred to you that the other men would be upon Brienne a second too late—when you swung around, she was swarmed by the rest of them. 

“Eddard!” she called, immediately halting you in your assault on the long-dead outlaw. It took you a moment to realize that she was addressing you, not wanting to call out your actual name. “Run! Run, now!”

Two of the outlaws were coming towards you.

“Brienne!” you yelled just as one of them sliced a cut through her shoulder she couldn’t properly roll away from. The rest of your protests caught in your throat when you watched one of them—one with wild eyes that had irises too small and teeth filed sharp—dive forward onto Brienne, sending her crashing to the ground. He bit a chunk of her face right off. 

More men surrounded her. Punching, kicking, and slicing at your friend. No, you couldn’t see her anymore, where is she? Get up, Brienne, get up…

“GO!” you could hear her muffled voice scream. “NED, GO!”

No, no, no…

But if you stayed, you would be dead, as well. One of the outlaws made a grab for you, but you danced back. If not for the two slipping on the watery mud the very next second, you would have been dead.

With your heart beating in your throat, you turned on your heel and fled.

What was a kingsguard without his king? Jaime hadn’t been happy to be sent off to the Riverlands again—his place was beside Tommen. The boy-king with a golden crown sitting atop his golden curls. Cersei had insisted on him leaving, however. She’d grown more restless, more paranoid, more snappy since their father’s death. Lancel, his fool of a cousin, was now a religious fanatic who seemed to be intent on fasting until he passed from starvation, and had confessed his sins of lying with Cersei. Apparently he was not the only one. The Kettleblack brothers, the court fools, and hells, even serving girls, if word of mouth was to be trusted. 

He felt a fool for ever loving her. And now she had kicked him out of the castle and away from his duty like one would a dirty mongrel.

Let her run the kingdom to ruin. See if I care.

Jaime wearily pulled at his face. That was the problem—he did care, and he knew he did. Cersei on the throne would mean little good for anybody. Not for his little brother, not for Brienne, not for you. He hoped you were safe, wherever you were.

The knight with one hand had had a long day, even though it was not yet nightfall. He had spoken to the Blackfish, Brynden Tully, in hopes of making some sort of negotiation. Perhaps goad him into a duel of single-combat and spare everyone of the grueling boredom that came with a slow siege. Expectedly, the wind-beaten lord took none of the bait and retreated back into his castle. Then, he had a short, but explosive council meeting with a few of the riverlords. They squabbled over each other like mindless birds over a piece of half-baked bread. Jaime couldn’t help but wonder what his father would do in his shoes, but was quick to relinquish such a thought. Tywin Lannister would never be in this position in the first place. And he was dead, which was perhaps the more important bit. After the council, he paid a visit to Ryman Frey, who was preoccupied fucking some whore who called herself a Queen. He had the big oaf dismissed for wasting so much time and resources, then named his son, Edwyn, command of the siege. He ordered young Edwyn to tell his great-grandsire, Walder Frey, to release all the prisoners for the crown. There was no undoing the Red Wedding, but he could, at the very least, attempt to rectify the troubles it left in its wake.

And now—now Jaime had one more person to visit.

It was his aunt, Genna Lannister, who had urged Jaime to do something about the sullen man with the noose loosely wrapped around his throat. In his state, he posed no danger physically. As a symbol, however, Edmure Tully, was a great danger to the cause. His cause? Jaime wasn’t entirely sure what he was fighting for anymore. It certainly didn’t feel like he was protecting Tommen from all these leagues away from him. His golden hand felt so very heavy strapped onto his stump—why did he still bother carrying it around?

Ilyn Payne made quick work of cutting Edmure Tully down from the wooden gallows he was perched upon. His hair, scraggly and red, hung in limp clumps over his dirtied, bloody face. Eyes deep blue, heavy with exhaustion. Jaime couldn’t help but think of Robb Stark at the sight of him. Gods, they looked alike.

Jaime had Edmure pulled through the tents and mass of Freys and other rivermen alike. One japed about a fish on a leash. A young man holding an instrument was amongst the throng of stares, and he ordered the singer to follow, and the lad obediently did. Onto a ferry they went, where the vessel would carry them to Tumblestone.

“Why?” Edmure has croaked, gripping weakly onto Jaime’s arm. 

“Consider it a wedding gift,” Jaime replied. 

The Tully eyed him warily. “A wedding gift?”

“I’ve heard your wife is pretty. She’d have to be, for the two of you to be abed whilst your sister and king were being murdered.” Jaime gave him a wry look. 

“I never knew. There were musicians outside the bedchamber, I couldn’t…”

“I’m sure Lady Roslin made for a grand distraction, as well.”

At the crass insinuation, however truthful, Edmure frowned and pulled away from the knight. “They made her do it. She had little say in the matter. Roslin never wanted any of it to happen. She wept the entire night, but I thought…”

“You thought it was your rampant manhood that swayed her to tears? It’s a sight any woman would weep to, I’m sure.”

Edmure hung his head. “She is carrying my child.”

Your child or your death? Jaime thought, but tastefully decided not to say it out loud. Not yet. Instead, he asked, “Your king-nephew, Robb. Did he ever speak of his aunt before his end?”

Edmure lifted his gaze to the kingslayer at that. “The Bitter Wolf?” He thought for a moment, eyes distant. “No. She was hardly ever brought up. Robb didn’t like to speak of her. Not after her betrayal with your freedom. If he did speak of her, it would’ve been with Catelyn.”

“Who is now dead,” Jaime dryly said.

“Yes,” Edmured replied, letting his gaze drift down to the waters. 

“Much help you are.”

“Where is she now? The Bitter Wolf.” 

Jaime saw no point in lying to him. “I don’t know.”

The rest of the ferry trip was spent in silence.

Once at his pavilion, Jaime dismissed Ilyn, but kept the singer around. He ordered the servants there to boil bathwater for the honored guest, and had clean garments brought to him, along with warm food and sweet wine. Edmure still couldn’t quite comprehend why exactly Jaime Lannister was being so courteous, but couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of cleanliness. He clambered into the tub and started scrubbing the grime off his skin.

Jaime pulled up a chair to sit beside him. “After you’re clean and your belly is full, you will be escorted to Riverrun. What happens after that is up to you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” said Jaime. “Your uncle is old. Valiant, admittedly, but his best years are behind him. He has no wife to grieve for him, nor children to succeed him. A good death is the most the Blackfish can wish for. You, however, have many years remaining to you. You are the rightful heir to House Tully, not him. Your uncle serves you, by law. Riverrun’s fate is in your hands.”

Edmure blinked at him. “I don’t…”

“Understand, I presume? All that time with a rope around your neck must have strangled you of all your wits.” Jaime was growing impatient. “You must yield the castle. Yield, and nobody dies. The smallfolk will be allowed to leave in peace, or they may serve Lord Emmon and his lady-wife, my aunt. Ser Brynden will be allowed to take the black and join the Night’s Watch, with as many of the garrison that choose to join. You, as well. The Wall is in dire need of more hands, I’ve heard. If that is not to your tastes, you may go to Casterly Rock as my captive and enjoy all the comforts and courtesy that befits a hostage of your rank. Your wife may join you. If your sire is a boy, he will serve House Lannister as a squire. Once he comes of age, he is welcome to earn his knighthood, along with some lands I will bestow upon him. If Roslin bears you a daughter, she will be well dowered until she is old enough to wed a fitting lord. You may be granted parole, even, once the war is done. All this only if you yield the castle.”

The water steamed and sloshed in the tub as Edmure gingerly shifted about. “And if I will not yield?”

The servants and squires were all listening. The singer watched the two speak with wide eyes. No matter. Let them all hear it.

“You’ve seen our numbers, Edmure. The ladders, the towers, the trebuchets, the rams. If I speak the command, my cousin will bridge your moat and break your gate. Blood will spill. Hundreds will die, most being your own people. Your former bannermen will be the first wave of attackers, so you will start your day by killing fathers, brothers, and sons of men who died for you at the Twins. The second wave will be Freys, and there are plenty of them to spare. My westermen will be the third once your archers are exhausted of arrows and your knights so weary their blades will no longer lift from the ground. The castle will fall, and all inside will be put to the sword. Your livestock will be butchered. Your river will rot with corpses. Your godswood will fall. Your keeps and inventories will burn.” Jaime swallowed as he said the next words. It was true that he did not actually mean to do it, but a threat was a threat, and words are wind. “Your wife may have the child before any of this. You’ll want the babe, I presume. I can send him to you once he’s born. With a trebuchet.”

There came a lengthy silence. Edmure was still in the bath. All the servants and squires stared in horror. 

Genna had told him earlier that he was not his father’s son. Tyrion was more Tywin’s than he could ever dream to be. Would her mind change if she had heard his speech? Was this what Tywin would have done? 

“I could climb out of this tub and kill you right as you are, Kingslayer,” said Edmure, once he finally regained his wits about him.

“You could try,” Jaime calmly replied. The man made no move, so Jaime pushed himself back to his feet. “Enjoy your food. Singer, play for our guest while he eats. You know the song, I trust.”

“The one about rain? Yes, my lord, I know it.”

Edmure’s head swiveled between the singer and Jaime. “No. I don’t want him. Get him away from me.” The tub water sloshed some more. 

“Why, it’s just a song, Lord Tully,” said Jaime, feigning innocence. “His voice couldn’t be that bad.”

The knight left his pavilion with the beginnings of Rains of Castamere playing faintly behind him.

The inns you came across the road were growing sparse. Many had been torched, ransacked, abandoned, or torn down. War left much of the Riverlands in ruins. Though you were none too happy about the state of the lands, pillaged, empty villages meant there would be fewer people loitering about, which was all the better for you.

You had managed to outrun the outlaws through the cover of the storm and ruins. It was only when the rain cleared away did you let yourself sit down and silently cry for Brienne. None deserved a fate like that. She was so undeniably good, more honorable than any other man you’ve ever met—and yet her face was torn apart and now she was dead.

Eventually, you made it out of the Riverlands and began to travel along the high road up to the Eyrie. It was the safest option to get there—the mountains were hardly on the table to walk through on your own, considering it was likely running amok with clansmen and thieves of all sorts. Even on the high road, the terrain was far more mountainous than the relatively-level grounds of the riverlands, and the incline noticeably steeper. You were traveling at a much slower pace than before, growing ragged and tired with shorter distances. 

On the third day on the narrow pathway towards the Bloody Gate, you came across two men on a cart. Merchants, perhaps. You spied the stacked wine casks in the back of the cart, wondering if they were empty. Surely they must be, you thought. The Vale is not likely to make any wine of their own, not with mountains as sheer as theirs. 

As their cart slowly rolled by, being pulled by braying donkeys, you overheard one of the men say, “A singer, it’s said!”

“A singer?” the other merchant echoed.

“Yes, a singer! They say he shoved Lady Arryn right off a mountain.” 

Lady Arryn? Your ears perked up at that. Did they mean Lysa?

He glanced at his companion dubiously. “I heard she threw herself out the door once she confessed her love to him.”

“That’s nonsense, have you seen the way she grips that sickly whelp of hers? She would never throw herself to her death whilst little Robin lives.”

That confirmed it. Lysa is dead?

“If I had a son like that, I’d do the very same,” he grumbled.

“Wait! Good sers!” you exclaimed, turning back to hurry after the cart. The donkeys whined protest as they were pulled to a slow stop. They both glanced back at you with wide, curious eyes.

“Sers?” The one with mousy brown hair piped up with a laugh lodged in his throat. “We are no knights.”

“Apologies, it’s a habit now, I fear. I simply wanted to know—” You stopped in your tracks. “What were you saying about Lady Arryn?”

“She’s dead, she is,” the older of the two merchants told you. His nose was crooked in three different places. “Out the Moon Door—or off the mountain—she flew.”

You stared at them for a moment, trying to gauge whether they were being serious or not. Tall tales such as this were not uncommon amongst the lowborn. “And who now rules in her stead?”

“Little Lord Robin is young still—”

“And far too sickly!”

“—Until he comes of age, Lord Petyr Baelish is Lord of the Vale.”

Littlefinger. The realization dawned on you with great unease as you recalled his infatuation with your good-sister and his alliances with the crown. Lannister crowns. This was no good… no good at all…

“Thank you,” you told the merchants. “That’s good to know.”

“Where are you off to?” said the younger one.

“Runestone,” you lied. “I have family there.” 

That seemed to appease them well enough. The one with brown hair waved farewell as he set the donkeys back into motion. You silently thanked the Gods for coming across decent men. You watched the cart of wine caskets descend down the path.

Now what? You could hardly stroll straight into the Vale now—not with the threat of Littlefinger handing you right back into Cersei’s mad hands. Should you even trust these rumors, though? Perhaps the septon at the Bloody Gate could clarify the situation for you. Surely he would tell you the truth. But getting there would take weeks, and you certainly didn’t have that sort of time. If word of Littlefinger’s rule in the Eyrie was true, you would be wasting even more time doubling back to escape. And if he heard of your presence in the Vale there was no telling what he would do… have you locked up and sent to Cersei in a cage? 

But what about Sansa? Your heart shattered at the thought of leaving her alone at the Eyrie with Baelish. You had to be smart about this. Even if Sansa was in the Vale, and if you managed to get to her, and if you could whisk her out of the castle undetected, there was nowhere for the two of you to go that would be safe. Sansa wouldn’t last a fortnight out in the wilderness. Gods forbid, but perhaps it was best for her to stay in the Eyrie until you managed to find a stronghold that would keep her safe and protected. 

Then again, she could just as likely be elsewhere in Westeros. Arya, too. Gods, you wished Brienne was with you. You could still see the blood spurting from her face, her screams cracking through the thunderous air. 

Damn you, Jaime. You should have come with me, you said to yourself, knowing it was a foolish chain of thought. He wouldn’t be much help, anyway. All he did when we traveled together was complain and find new ways to irritate me. 

You lingered on the path for a few more moments. Then, you frustratedly gestured to nobody, made a noise of displeasure, and turned to follow after the wine merchants. 

Back to the Riverlands you went.

Riverrun was now taken, but at a great cost. Brynden the Blackfish had escaped. All thanks to Jaime’s carelessness and Edmure’s wit. This would never have happened if Tywin was around, Jaime couldn’t help but lament. It was no wonder his aunt Genna told him he was nothing like his father. 

He was a fool, and his father knew it.

After a series of threats to both Edmure and his wife, the Tully lord managed to sullenly tell him what he knew of the Blackfish’s whereabouts. Which, to Jaime’s dismay, was very little. 

“He swam away,” Edmure had told him. He had the very same blue eyes as Catelyn did, as well as Robb. The very same look of loathing in them, as well. There was a time when you looked at him like that. “The Water Gate’s portcullis was raised. Not enough to be noticed, only three feet or so. My uncle is a strong swimmer. He pulled himself beneath the spikes and I can only assume the current helped him from there.”

Damn it all.

Jaime had hounds and hunters on the prowl for the Blackfish, but he had little hope of catching him. And Edmure was to be heading west the following morning. Jaime was glad to be rid of him, though he worried that the man would slip through the guards he would be traveling with. The knight wasn’t too keen on hunting for the Tully a third time.

News of Ryman Frey’s death was brought to him by young Edwyn, the former’s son. Hanged, apparently, by a band of outlaws nearby Fairmarket, which was boldly close by. Thoros, or Dondarrion, or this mysterious Stoneheart woman. There was little to do about the matter now—Jaime ordered more guards posted and that was that. 

That night, he practiced his shoddy, left-handed swordsmanship with the silent Ilyn Payne. He managed to last a grand total of three hours before giving into his cramping muscles’ begs for a rest. Afterwards, he poured the both of them cups full of Hoster Tully’s wine, and told Payne of how he used to kiss his sister when they were children. It was innocent at first, until it wasn’t. It felt nice being able to freely tell someone of everything knowing he couldn’t possibly relay such information to anybody else—Payne’s lack of a tongue ironically made Jaime chattier than ever. 

“Tyrion once told me that whores oft avoid kissing their patrons. They’ll fuck you until your legs fall off, he said, but they keep their lips far from yours. It’s what separates work from real romance. I wonder if my sister ever kissed Kettleblack.” Jaime thought for a long moment. “I kissed the Bitter Wolf.”

Payne spared him no reaction.

“She was crying.” Jaime took a sip of wine, leaving out the fact that he had shed a tear or two. “Not because of the kiss, though. I hope not, at least. I’m not that bad of a kisser. Cersei never cried when we kissed.” Though, after he said that, he realized basing his assumptions around Cersei wasn’t a particularly smart thing to do. You and Cersei were many leagues apart from one another.

Payne drained his cup and gestured for Jaime to refill it.

As he did, Jaime went on. “If not for Tyrion’s reckless call for a trial by combat, I would have married her. The Bitter Wolf. We would be at Casterly Rock, and Tyrion would be at the Wall, and my father would still be alive, and my son would sit the Iron Throne, and all would be well. Or not. Cersei would make matters difficult. I doubt Y/N would be pleased about her predicament, either, come to think of it.”

He decided to change the subject back to Kettleblack when Payne’s silence stretched for a little while longer.

“It would be ill-fitting to slay mine own Sworn Brother. I should geld him and send him to the Wall—make up for Tyrion’s loss in some way. He’s been to the Wall, perhaps he had no taste for returning. It’s bloody cold there, I’ve heard. Of course, if I were to lay a hand on Osmund, there would be his brothers to consider, as well. Brothers can be dangerous. Aegon the Unworthy had Ser Terrence Toyne dismembered into pieces after finding him abed with his mistress, and forced her to watch. Toyne’s brothers tried to kill the King for it, though their plans were ultimately foiled by the Dragonknight. It’s written in the White Book. All of it, including every knightly deed and chivalrous act. It doesn’t tell me what to do with Cersei, though.”

Ilyn dragged a finger across his scarred throat.

“No,” Jaime said. “Tommen has already lost a brother, and the man he thinks is his father. If his mother were to die by my hand, he would hate me for it. I’m sure his sweet little wife would use that hatred to her benefit, as well.”

An ugly smile stretched at Ilyn’s thin lips. Jaime misliked the crude gleam in his eye. 

“You talk too much,” Jaime told the mute.

The next night, Jaime found himself in Hoster Tully’s solar, looking over a map, wondering where the Blackfish could have gone. Many of his hunters had returned that morning, torn and bleeding. Direwolves, they had told him. A monstrous pack with a large she-wolf leading them. He wondered if that could have been the wolf that had mauled Joffrey what had felt like a lifetime ago. 

In consequence, Jaime couldn’t help but wonder about you. Did the direwolves like you at all? He strained his mind to remember, but couldn’t seem to recall. It confused him when his chest constricted at the thought of forgetting you.

The war was practically won. Dragonstone was taken, and Storm’s End would be very soon. Stannis was welcome to the cold fruits of the Wall—if Roose Bolton hadn’t already destroyed him. And the Riverlands were successfully taken without Jaime ever having to raise a sword against neither Stark nor Tully. All in all, he was to be content.

But where did that place you? Once everything calmed down, what would happen to you? To Sansa, who surely deserved no harm that would come to her? She was just a young girl and you… you were far from the paragon of innocence, to be certain, but surely he could have Tommen pardon you for any of your crimes. Your crimes being allegiance to your own nephew, which Jaime could hardly fault you for.

Then again, Cersei was the problem. There was no chance she would sit idly by and let you live. Once he returned to King’s Landing, he had to find a way to whisk Tommen from her crutches before he would turn as corrupt as Joffrey. A new council full of abled men would be in order, as well. 

More and more days passed. Jaime had the entire Tully garrison safely released from their keep, which displeased his Aunt Genna greatly, but Jaime was intent on letting them go. There was little harm they could do when they were scattered, weaponless, and hungry.

 He dreamed of Cersei most nights. Of her golden hair, which then molded into golden hands. In his dreams, he always had two hands. Sometimes touching her, stroking her, holding her—dreamy memories of old. Sometimes he was strangling her, which he certainly had never done before.

Other nights he dreamed of Brienne. Her big, brutish face red with rage and exhaustion. She would swing Oathkeeper at his neck and he awoke just before his head rolled off his shoulders.

Some of the nights, however scarce they were, were far more precious. He dreamt of you, your hair freckled with snow, your eyes alight as you watched children play beneath you. He was in Winterfell, he realized, and with a shocked start looked back down at the children. His? No. They were your nieces and nephews, of course. Their faces were a blur, but their red hair was unmistakable. Save for the littlest girl and the bastard boy. Snow, Jaime remembered. 

“We should have one,” your dream-self said to him, so serious that Jaime wondered if it was actually you standing there in front of him. “A little wolf-lion.”

Did Jaime want that? Would they have golden hair like his? Like Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen? But how could he have another child when he was never a father to the ones he already had? It felt wrong to even consider it. Dishonorable. Any romantic notion of a normal life with you was quickly dashed.

“I know we can’t,” you continued on before he could respond. “They’re all dead.” You gestured down to the Starklings. “And I’ll be joining them soon. But it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?”

“No—” he said, reaching out to you, but you had already faded into a blur.

Not all of his dreams with you were as bleak. Once he was abed with you, and another time he was bound by rope as you pointed an arrow at his forehead while he cackled maniacally. 

A week after releasing the last of the garrison, Jaime woke up with a start after dreaming about a cloaked figure that looked eerily similar to Cersei, though he knew it wasn’t her. His mother spoke soft riddles, where Cersei would bark harsh insults. He couldn’t quite tell which he favored. He threw the covers off him with his stump.

The room was frigid. The hearth’s warmth had waned away and the windows had been left pushed open when he fell asleep. In the darkness, Jaime made his way to close the shutters, but his foot touched against a wetness on the ground. Blood had been his first thought, but blood would not be so cold. Rain, perhaps, but he would have heard the sound of pattering coming from outside.

Jaime drew the damp curtains apart, letting the moonlight stream through. Moonlight and snow. Down below, the yard was spotting with white, growing thicker and thicker in the minutes he watched. After a moment, he even began to see his breath misting in front of him.

Winter is here, he thought. Marching south, and our granaries are half empty.

He watched the snow fall, and stood there thinking of you. It irked him that you haunted his every thought. Nonetheless, he hoped you were warm, wherever you were. If he was as fanatically religious as his dear coz Lancel, he would have even prayed for your safety.

When morning dawned, Riverrun’s maester came to pay him a visit. He was pallid-faced and shaking.

“I know,” Jaime said, glancing at the bound letter in the old man’s quivering hands. “The Citadel has sent a white raven. Winter has come.”

“No, my lord,” said Maester Vyman. “The bird came from King’s Landing. Forgive me, I took the liberty to open it, I did not know it was meant for your eyes…”

Jaime took the letter and sat by the window to read. It was Qyburn’s hurried hand, but he knew it to be Cersei’s fevered words. 

Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.

“Does my lord wish to answer?” asked Vyman, hovering by the door.

A snowflake landed on the letter. He was reminded of the snowflakes in your hair, in his dream. It was quick to melt, blurring the inked words and streaking down the paper. 

Jaime rolled the paper back as tight as he could with his one hand, and handed it back to the maester. “No,” he said. “Put this in the fire.”

[munsons-melody]

flinch

summary: you flinch during a fight with eddie

pairing: eddie x female!reader

cw: angst w a fluffy ending, thoughts of abuse

word count: 1.5k words

a/n: wrote this v quickly so it’s not really proofread or anything. i could’ve done it better but i’ve been soo busy :/ might rewrite later

masterlist

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

—

you were in eddie's trailer, wayne had just left for work 10 minutes ago, and already you were in some silly little fight with eddie which you didn't expect to escalate how it did

"it's just sometimes guitar players think they're better than everyone else" you stated and eddie rolled his eyes, taking it as a personal jab to his skills

"okay but they almost make the band" he responded from the kitchen, hearing the clank of dishes as the water ran from the faucet

"okay but most of the time they are just assholes who just care about the sex, drugs, and rock n roll life style" you shrugged

"so you think i'm an asshole?" he responded back with a sharp tone and you shook your head

"no i'm talking about the people like mick mars who are so doped up and sleep with hundreds of women and just act like a douchebag" you said with a matter of fact tone

"well it kinda sounds like you're implying that i'm going to turn out like them" he snapped, turning off the water and drying his hands

"no! god no, i'm not saying that! i'm saying once in the spotlight, most people turn into assholes like that" you said, trying your best to stay calm

"so once my band makes it big, you're what- just gonna leave since you think it'll happen to me?" he questioned, turning the corner to meet you in the living room

"of course not! why would you say something like that?" you asked with a louder tone

"well it sounds like that's what you're expecting!" he said, starting to shout

"im not expecting it to happen!" you said, your voice growing to match his

"yeah well i'm pretty sure those 'friends' of yours think it will, they already think i'm in a satanic cult about to sacrifice you" he told you with a sarcastic growl, grabbing some extra dishes he found on the small table to put in the sink

"what the fuck is that about" you asked confused, remembering the party in which you two had met up with a couple of your girl friends but failed to recall them talking about that certain subject

"yeah you didn't hear what they said? we were at that party at steve's house the other night, and they started talking about how i'm some trailer trash wannabe rockstar" he angrily said, flipping on the water to keep working on the leftover dishes from the previous night

"okay first off, i never heard them say anything like that! second, why were you even hanging out with my friends if i wasn't there?" you rebutted, questioning him

"because i was trying to be a caring boyfriend and find you since robin said you looked a little too drunk and i didn't want you to hurt yourself" he snapped back

the volume of the argument kept escalating, which brought knots to your stomach. you hadn't really had fights with eddie and now that you're in one, you badly wanted to go back to how it was

"well i'm sorry i was trying to enjoy myself at the party but also i have never heard them say anything like that before in my life" you told him, starting to pace around, not knowing what else to do

"oh great and now you're defending them, what- do you agree with them?" he asked as you started to pick up empty cans and put them in the bin

"i do not agree with anything they said! but i've known those girls for a good few years now and i know they wouldn't say that about anyone" you tried and he laughed, putting his head down

"you are unbelievable!" he screamed and that's when you didn't care if you started yelling, the anger bubbling up inside you

"oh really so you want to talk about what friends have said about us? okay, well remember that time we were at the hideout and your friend hank said that he liked your other girlfriend before me better and was annoyed that you're whipped for some girl who was less pretty than she was!" you screamed, tears pricking in your eyes

you remembered that moment all too well when hank mentioned how much prettier eddie's ex girlfriend was, and your heart sank but you laughed it off, coming up with some smart comeback to brush off the pieces of your shattered confidence

"that was a joke! you even laughed!" eddie rebutted, slamming a cabinet door shut. you flinched at the loudness of it but he didn't see with his back turned to you

"i only laughed because i was uncomfortable! i didn't know what else to do!" you said, wiping away a tear that fell down your cheek

eddie angrily stomped out of the kitchen to his room and you followed, blinking away tears

"and i also don't exactly remember you defending me and telling him off!" you screamed and he turned to look at you

"because i didn't know you were uncomfortable!" he screamed back, looking around his desk for something

"well you should know from common sense that anyone hearing that would not find it amusing!" your anger was consuming you as you watched eddie throw a shirt from his desk to his bed

"well i guess i'm just not a very good boyfriend then!" he said throwing his arms up in the air

you stepped back, bringing your arms up in a defensive stance as your head turned, somehow expecting there to be an impact from his hand

eddie realized what happened as he stared at you with wide eyed and you slowly moved your head to look at him with your arms still up

you moved your arms down as eddie just stood there in shock, and you moved to wipe a couple more tears of frustration from your face

"y/n... did you think i was going to hit you?" he asked softly, a huge change in tone from what you previously were hearing, his stance deflating

you gulped put a small "no" not wanting him to think that you'd think he'd do such a thing. you knew he would never, but it was a natural reaction that you instantly regretted

"baby i..." he trailed off, taking a small step forward towards you. you didn't move back which he took as a good sign

"you know i would never ever do that to you, right?" he asked, taking another small step forward and putting a hand on your arm which was intertwined with your other arm, folded across your chest

"i know..." you muttered out, moving your head to look away from him, keeping your arms crossed

"can i please hold you?" he asked gently and you nodded, slowly moving your body into his open arms as he wrapped them around you, engulfing you into a giant bear hug

a few more tears fell down as he held you close to his body, and you leaned your head into his chest

"i'm so so sorry for yelling and getting mad, and i'm sorry i didn't defend you when hank said that bullshit, i love you so so so much" he spoke softly, his hand coming up and gently placing it on the back of your head

“and i want you to know that i promise you i would never hit you or do anything of the sort, i’m so sorry you thought that” he said with a shaky voice

"i'm sorry too," you started to apologize, feeling guilt run through your veins from not defending him earlier, and for reacting the way you did

"i didn't realize they said those things, and i know for a fact you aren't going to end up like mick mars or nikki sixx or any of those drug abusing rockstars, well maybe only with the level of rock n roll fame part, not the drugs" you joked with a sniffle

"and what about the sex?" he said with a chuckle, and you moved your body to face him, wrapping his arms around his waist and you moved your eyebrows up in a surprising way, pushing your head back in slight confusion

"you know, sex, drugs, rock n roll- they're a package deal... and obviously there's gonna be no drugs- well okay maybe weed, then a huge amount of rock n roll fame... what about the sex?" he joked making you smile with a small giggle

"well maybe, only if you'll still love and want me when you're big and famous" you told him with a small laugh, a smile growing on his face

"oh baby i will always love you and want you for the rest of my days" he said sweetly before leaning in and giving you a small kiss

when he pulled away he looked into your eyes, a hand moving to the back of your neck

"then show me how much you mean it," you said with a small smirk as he pulled you in for another kiss

he leaned in, kissing you passionately, his tongue fighting with yours as you moved you hands to slightly scratch down his back

"i- love- you" he said between breaths as he continued to kiss you, and you knew he really meant it

fin.

[kentopedia]

it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover & your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

overall contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, exes to lover, gothic romance, blood drinking, vampire!reader, vampire!dazai, smut, cheating reader, complicated relationships, blood, gore, jealousy, manipulation, religious symbolism, betrayal, reunions — 5.3k words

PART V ♰ MASTERLIST

Human blood, when it came straight from the source, a punctured vein made up of a scarlet river, held a divine power. There was a warmth that you could only receive from drinking it, not from the animals you captured in the woods, or those that you bled dry into a goblet. 

Only then, would your icy skin be transformed into something akin to heated marble, so smooth, made up of something that had outlasted any other creature roaming the earth. 

That sort of euphoria was a feeling that fifty years had served you well in forgetting. You’d learned not to miss it. 

Until you got it back. The taste of human blood, once it had stained your lips after decades, had become the only thing on your mind. 

For two days, the blood of the woman, whom Dazai had lured to his hotel room for you, kept your hunger down. Your body had grown warm once more, skin as normal as any mortal’s. It made you feel as if you had regained life itself, the ecstasy seeping back into you like the sunbeams you’d never reach again. 

You’d pranced around your home joyfully, dancing through the halls the night before. Although it was dangerous, it was freeing, to lose yourself to the bloodlust like that. Just a taste of what your life had been, was enough to twist your mind, have you reminiscing on the vampire you’d once been. 

“You seem different,” Atsushi had said, the previous day. There had been such pleasure in his irises and the lines creasing his face, at seeing you so cheerful. Those signs of happiness in him were ones that you’d vowed never to take away, for doing so would deem you the vilest creature of them all. “Has something happened that I’m not aware of?” 

You’d laughed, let him rest in the crook of your elbow as you leaned him over your forearm, dipping him gracefully with your otherworldly strength. “I’m just glad you’re home, Atsushi,” you’d said, before twirling him around, guiding him in a dance around the room. 

It was all you could say, really. You couldn’t admit that your true gaiety came from the blood of a young woman, and your health had been restored by drinking the sweet nectar from her heart. 

Something you should’ve been doing all along. 

Then, when those two days passed, and the desperation that came with hunger returned, your mood soured. Atsushi pretended he hadn’t noticed, skirting around you with sideways glances and softened smiles. Encouragement — even if he wasn’t sure what had turned your radiance into a shade of blue. 

Life settled back into a sense of normalcy. For your fiancee, at least, who had never had a clue that anything was amiss. You, on the other hand, grappled with the immense guilt, the truth of what you’d done slamming against you, every moment your thoughts strayed. 

Dazai. 

Dazai. 

Dazai. 

The only name on your mind. Ever. Dreadfully lurking at the lines of your subconscious, even as you smiled at the one who loved you purely. Dazai’s charming grin snuck behind your eyelids as you kissed the man you were to be wed to, his name souring your tongue when you tasted Atsushi’s own. 

His voice, a melody bestowed upon you by nothing else but the devil, for a merciful god could never have created something so tempting, so horribly unholy. Those dark eyes, darker still when you punctured his throat, letting the crimson liquid flow into your mouth, staining your lips. 

And his blood… 

You growled, digging your nails into the piano that you’d failed to play at all. A screeching sound erupted as your fingers slid down the cover, deep scratches marring the wood. 

This was all his fault. If he’d never come back, then things could’ve carried on as they always had. You wouldn’t crave the taste of human blood once again, of Dazai’s blood, of his mouth, of him. 

“Get out,” you shouted, throwing the piano bench away from the instrument, the wood splintering under your strength. “Get out.” The antique vase shattered against the wall, the priceless item suddenly a million, tiny pieces. “Get out of my head.” 

Frustrated crept its way up your chest, a less than welcome old friend. 

Yet, that blend of rage and anguish was not an antidote to the way that Dazai Osamu had poisoned your mind, and you fell to your knees, sobbing hot streaks of blood into your hands. 

He’d made a cheater out of you, once again. A cheater, a killer, and a monster. And even after all that, you yearned for him. Your chest ached for the trace of his fingertips along your jawline, for those eyes to soften, only upon you. For the smile that he’d always given you, even in your darkest moments, as you laid upon him, coated in the gore of another.

Dazai was a cruel man, but he’d loved you through it all. 

And if what he said was true, he’d never meant to leave you. 

You swallowed, willing your tears away as you stared at the ceiling, dragging those regrettable emotions deep, burying them under the years of turmoil he’d put you through. All the times he’d snuck away, never telling you where he’d gone, promising he’d change and still playing the same games. 

Even then, the taste of his blood was too fresh on your mind, the tenderness of his hands still burned into your skin. 

Dazai, for all his cruelty, was right. Atsushi would never understand you the way he did. He’d never love you like that either. 

It had been a blessing, at first, that Atsushi was so vastly different from your immortal companion. Now, it had become the thorn lodged deep in your side, puncturing you through the middle. 

When the day came that you turned Atsushi, with a ring upon your finger and the promise of an immortal life, would you still long for Dazai? 

It seemed unfair to judge your vampire lover now, for all his misgivings, all the evil deeds he had committed, all the adultery, all the silence. The murder. You were the same, you and Dazai. Burned straight from the same pit, crafted by the hands of a demon, placed upon this earth for no reason but evil. 

How foolish you had been, to ever think you could be anything good. 

Three days later, when the rats were not enough, and the threat of biting Atsushi became too much to resist, you sought Dazai out. 

The realization of your buried feelings, towards him and yourself, would remain just that—hidden. You’d told Dazai you needed time, and you still did. Time to decide if you’d rather live with Atsushi, or step out into the sunlight, letting your body fall into flames before ashes. Both seemed more pleasurable than admitting that your once lover had seen straight through you. 

Truly anything was better than admitting that what you felt for Dazai was something, still, close to love. 

You’d spent the evening steeling yourself, staring awake in the darkened room as you rehearsed what you’d say to Dazai, after the last conversation you’d had. It had begun to occur to you, perhaps, that your problematic dalliance could be traced back to the mixed signals that you continued to send his way.

Yet, when you finally mustered up the courage to visit him, Dazai was not at the hotel. The room service had already cleared out the lodgings, stripped the room bare and sterilized it after his departure. 

Dazai was gone. He’d left just like you’d wanted him to, for weeks. 

So, why did your heart drop like a weight from your chest to your stomach, the agonizing twist of abandonment tearing through your immortal soul?

Briefly, you stared at the empty room, blinking at the laundress who spread fresh linens across the mattress. She seemed to be startled by the fury and misery in your darkened irises, lips parting with words she wouldn’t speak. 

“The man,” you said, hating the sound of your choked voice, raspy as it made its way out of your chalky throat. “The man that was staying in this room. He left?” 

She stared at you for a moment longer, before nodding slowly. “He did.” 

“Do you know when?” 

When? Where? Why did you let him leave? How could he just walk away without even so much as a goodbye?

The woman shook her head once more, smoothing a wrinkle across the sheets before stepping away from the four-poster bed. The same one that you had tumbled onto with Dazai, twice in the past few days, your icy hands roaming across each other’s bodies.

“That is not my business,” she offered, as kindly as she could, frightened by the sharp coils of your features, as nasty as the glare that shone in your burning eyes. “I apologize that I cannot be of more help, miss.” 

You considered carrying on, objecting, perhaps tearing apart the room in a fit of anger. It could be upended by your monstrous speed before the skittish laundress even had time to protest. 

For less than a moment, you bared your fangs, the sheer white of your teeth glinting in the moonlight. A flash of fear sheared its way through the woman’s eyes, as she caught the menacing curl of your lip, before you recovered smoothly. Quickly enough for her to believe that it had been a trick of the light, a play of her imagination.

“No. I apologize,” you said, dropping your hands to your sides, ignoring the dissonance of your humanity and your eternal curse. So quickly, with the burst of anger thrumming under your skin, you’d resorted to thoughts of violence. Ugly ideas swarmed your mind, a vision of blood, beautifully ruby red, splattering across the creamy linens. 

Perhaps it was best that Dazai left. Hopefully, it was permanent.

Without another word, you left the laundress to her work, heading back to the front desk to see if you could weasel any answers out of the manager. He had been quite adamant in keeping it private, the whereabouts of guests, both past and present, under lock and key.

“I am merely curious when he left,” you said, growing frustrated after a minute of pursuing answers. Your sharp nails, stronger than that of a normal human’s, dug into the counter, small crescents indented in the dark wood. “Can you not supply me with that simple fact?” 

The man pushed his glasses up, shook his head once, before you huffed, nearly hissing under your breath. You would resolve to more drastic measures, if you needed to. 

“Tell me when he left.” You laid your sharp gaze into him, digging past the soil of his golden brown irises, until you had reached his mind, curling your own influence around it. “Dazai Osamu, he was staying in room 29.” 

The man straightened, looked at you with parted lips, like you were the only person, the only being, in the entire world. So captivated he was, both by your beauty and your confidence, the smile on your lips softened, yet not without its cruelty. But the touch you’d laid on his mind was one of comfort, a warm caress. A feeling of laying on your chest, your fingers curling through the few, thin strands left on his balding head. 

“Earlier this week,” he replied, nodding, recollecting the evening. “Yes, I remember him. Quite an outlandish fellow—very self assured. He’d checked out earlier than expected, but seemed in no hurry.” The fog lifted from the man’s irises for just a moment, as confusion hammered against you, and you lost your focus. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”

You were quite out of practice, and dug deeper, controlling his consciousness. “Did he say where he was going? Or anything at all?” 

He shrugged, eyebrows knitting together in pain as your gentle touch laid way to a cold slap against his mortal intuition. “I can only assume he would be going home.” 

You scowled, face marring into an ugly expression, as your hands shook against the countertop. Then, you turned, scoffing, and released the man from your grasp. “Fine. Forget we had this conversation.” 

The clerk said nothing to you as you stalked away, leaving a trail burned into the carpet from your steps. You were nothing more than a stranger. 

Outside, you seemed to come to your senses, the moon, your oldest friend, your eternal companion, greeting you with a kiss. You stared up at it with distant longing, wishing, perhaps, that that silvery light could shroud you, wrap you up and take you away, just as the sunlight could. 

Three steps around the corner, out of the sight of any lingering travelers, you dropped to the ground, leaning against the brick exterior of the old hotel. It was a building on the brim of decay, the colors so much different than when it’d opened, wood paneling rotting away. 

Rotting just like anyone that had ever loved you had done. 

The hotel had been born after your family, after the friends you’d had when you were human, but the state of it was more grisly than any you’d ever been in. It would age, die, collapse into the earth, and you would walk in the rubble, still as divine as you were now. 

The realization of that alone had you doubling over, laughing into your hands, a sharp, terrible sound that echoed into the emptiness of night. 

So hard, you laughed, that it threatened to tumble into tears, ones that you kept at bay, even as you stared at the decaying hotel and the stars in the night that you’d probably outlive too. 

With Dazai gone, you felt closer to the brink of insanity than you ever had, in both your lives as a human and a vampire. It felt that some cord deep within you had snapped, and suddenly, you could not see a reason for your meaningless existence. 

Day in and day out you’d suffered, looking for a reason to continue on the path of moral righteousness, to ignore all the memories that continued to resurface, floating up out of the deep, black abyss. 

You had been unhappy as a human, unsatisfied with your existence, and you had been a loose cannon in your early years as a vampire; a risk to yourself and anything that dared to step in your path. And though you’d once believed yourself to court misery, you had only shared a gentle kiss with it, never taken it to bed and let it shroud you with itself. 

Misery, now, was the only word that could encompass the deep sense of hollowness that had been carved inside of you. Even Atsushi, with his kind eyes and a smile you loved so dearly, had not been able to ease you out of bed. 

Leave me for a few days, Atsushi, you’d told him, not sure if you were being selfish, or quite the opposite. I don’t want to hurt you. 

You didn’t. You didn’t want to hurt him. But there was, and perhaps there would always be, the version of you that longed for the violence. For when had you last been happy, free, without the restraints and the threat of murdering the one you loved most, if not when you were with Dazai?

When the third day passed without a drop of blood, and the hunger had gripped you so tightly that you were on the brink of delirium, you pulled yourself out of bed, and left the apartment. 

It was warmer, humid, the air stifling and pressing down on you as you roamed the streets, looking for something, anything. While the weather had very little effect on the dead, it was your hunger that dizzied you, a sensation that was so close to the suppressive heat felt as a human that you smiled, traipsed around as if you were in a dream.

Atsushi you’d spoken to only in brief increments, your fangs bared in a threat, warning him not to come any closer. And all he’d done was smile, tightly, and grabbed a fresh set of clothes, leaving for the rest of the week to retire elsewhere. 

Despite your treatment of him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel apologetic. If that was what it took for you to save his life, to keep him from seeing the ugliest parts of you, then so be it. 

Still, it only made you think of Dazai, who had seen all those sides of you. He had seen you, the very worst parts of you. He had seen you as a human, smiling softly at men on the streets as you slipped a hand into their pockets, stealing for the bread you couldn’t afford. He had seen you relish at the sight of fear, as the very same men began to see you as a threat, not a prize that could so easily be won. He had seen you happily drown yourself in murder, and he had loved you anyway. 

For as little as he’d shared about his own life, you’d understood him. It had been the reason he’d given you the gift of immortality, one you could never return.

Thinking of that — thinking of Dazai at all — felt like a betrayal. 

“Excuse me,” you heard a voice say beside you. A tall man approached, at least a foot above you, his eyes roaming across you with a lust you were all too familiar with. For a moment, you considered ignoring him, stepping away without turning to face him at all. 

He persisted, calling out for you again, when you finally gazed back at him with hard suspicion. 

“May I help you?” you replied, eyes narrowed.

He startled, taking a step back at your intensity. “Ah. I’m just passing through, and I’ve lost my way. I was wondering if you would direct me back to Crescent Street. I’m staying at the hotel there,” he said.

“Perhaps I am a traveler as well.” You glanced back at the river, the shimmering water winking at you with the reflection of the stars. “What makes you so certain I am familiar with the area?”

If you threw yourself into the water, tried to drown under the darkened depths, would you? Would the water flow through your lungs, killing you over and over until the sun rose, or would you simply breath it in and out as freshly as air, coughing it up when you emerged? 

Dazai had never told you these kinds of things. You’d never been bored enough to try and find out yourself. 

“Oh,” the man said. “Forgive me. I just assumed, based on how confidently you stroll the night. With all the murders that have been happening, I thought you must have either been comfortable, or just very stupid.” 

You smiled lazily at him, as the annoyance surged up in you, so fast and without warning. “I am certainly not stupid.” 

“Certainly not.” Then, the man, with his blonde locks and eyes the colors of sapphires, stuck a gloved hand out, leaning forward. “My name is Peter,” he said, curling his hand around your own, pointedly ignoring the ring on your finger. There was hunger in his expression, though it was different from your own, as he dipped his gaze towards the red corset that hugged your curves, revealing a hint of cold skin at your chest. 

You bowed your head gracefully, giving your name in response, before looking at him from under your eyelashes. From that action alone, the sultry burn you had spilled into your irises, his demeanor changed, lips falling open from your otherworldly beauty. 

Although your gift of slipping into the minds of humans, compelling their actions and twisting their memory had come in handy many times in the past, you’d never had to use it to lure a man to his dark fate. They came so easily, once they understood your intentions, saw even a hint of desire contrasting the gentle innocence you held onto. 

“I must be quite lucky, then, to have stumbled across you,” he said, leaning into you. You could smell the tobacco that stuck to his clothes, fine cigars that he smoked quite freely. There was a hint of another scent there too, sweeter, more feminine. It soaked deeply into his clothes, lining every thread as if it had been coated there. 

“Are you traveling alone?” you asked suspiciously, stepping away from him, to find a shaded area along the bank. There were enough trees to hide any hints of murder, and any lingering eyes had fled to the other side of the city, the busier side, where the port was. 

The storm in Peter’s oceanic eyes dissipated to serene waters. 

A lie came after, and so easily it slipped off his tongue, without an ounce of guilt, of the torment you had long since succumbed to. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. Even though his eyes said no, and the scent of the woman’s perfume agreed. 

“No wife?” you returned, smiling softly, as you reached the edge of the water, the waves curling up along the muddied rocks. “Kids?” 

He laughed. “I’m afraid I am still a lonely bachelor.” 

“Well,” you said, turning back around to trace his arm gently, your diamond clad finger on full display. “I’m not.” 

Although he said nothing, you could see the anger rise up in him, the frustration at being toyed with — and how quickly it rose. His fingers tightened at his side, jaw clenching, a cruel word launching to the tip of his tongue. 

“But,” you said, quelling your own rage. The threat of a violent man may have been nothing to you, but it would be enough to the other women that happened to be passing the streets. “Perhaps, we can ignore that small detail, for the time being.” 

You slipped the ring off your finger and dropped it onto the ground, letting it fall into the earth, soiled and dirtied by the splashes of water that rose up — where you belonged. Underground, buried without a ring that never should’ve been on your finger in the first place. 

You felt crazed, your spirit slipping from the shell of morality it had resided in, as it remembered what it truly meant to be free. And you were free, weren’t you? Your nature was never meant to succumb to laws set by mortals, for you were older than them, older than the society that claimed to be civilized, but was just as monstrous as your own. 

Peter parted his lips, formulating a response you cared little for, as you shoved him up against the nearest tree, his back hitting it with a grave thump.

Even though you expected his face to morph into one of pain, he stared back at you with intrigue, eyes alight with want. That alone made you sick, with him and yourself, for doing the same thing to your fiance that you would take his life for. 

You turned his jaw, caressing him softly as you exposed the vein, and dipped your head. 

It was unfortunate that it didn’t cause him any pain, an almost erotic feeling to humans when you sunk your teeth in, tongue lapping at the puncture. But you were far too hungry to care, and ignored the warning bells in your head as you drank and drank, until the blood and breath began to fizzle out, and he was but a corpse left in your arms. 

The taste grew rancid, sour in your mouth with death, and you released him, tearing the skin with a gruesome sound as you emerged from the vein. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in his expression, despite being gruesomely torn apart, and you threw him towards the river in disgust. 

“I would apologize to your wife,” you said, smiling, rejuvenated by fresh human blood. Although he had been an easy catch, the hunt was elating, nonetheless. “But she’s better off without you.” 

You leaned down, ripping a handkerchief from his pocket, before dabbing at your mouth, a few droplets of blood staining the tan cloth. 

A sigh escaped you, and you glanced back up at the moon, the stars, the endless universe that you hardly understood at all. If there was a god out there, or the devil as you’d once feared, would they grant this as a sin, or would you be a vengeful angel, cleaning the world of the scum that committed adulterous acts?

You placed the cloth across his neck before slashing your nails across it, tearing at the skin like you were an animal, just enough to cover your tracks. Then, you dumped him into the water, watched him turn over, onto his face, before sinking just under. 

For a moment, you stared, as the once living, breathing thing turned into something pale and ugly, floating along the current as if nothing more than a piece of litter, carelessly tossed aside. The mop of hair across the top of the waves, golden and shiny in the light, was the only evidence that he had ever been alive at all. 

Then, as quickly as his life had left him, he disappeared into the night, beyond your vision. 

You paused, feeling an eerie sense of nothingness creep up on you, as you realized what you had done. It had been so long since you’d held someone’s life in your hand like that, killed without a second thought, that the feelings of deliverance and regret battled so fiercely, they turned into impassivity. 

Licking your lips, you turned around, basking in the warm glow of the night, the short hours you had left until the sun rose once again. The days would grow longer again, as would your sleep, as the dreadful months of summer sequestered you inside. 

Picking up your ring, you left the bank, elevated. The ground seemed to fall below you as you meandered home, and the sound of the humans, those still awake at such an hour, though loud, was muddled. Nothing but a cacophony of nonsense as your own thoughts rattled even louder in your head. 

The closer you got to home, to Atsushi, the more you grew to question yourself, to feel sick with your own actions. It was weakness that had drawn you to such an act. You were nothing but a slave to your hunger, to the bloodlust, and the anger that rose up in you. 

Dazai had always been so controlled, so careful and cautious. You, on the other hand, had never been a master of your emotions — you went on killing without worry. A glutton when it came to the bodies you drained. 

“Everything alright?” your neighbor asked, smoking on the balcony as her husband slept inside, perhaps the only reprieve she ever got from the miserable man. 

You approached, waved her off, hoping that she was drunk enough to forgot she ever saw you. Maybe she wouldn’t even care that the woman living next door was a killer. 

That was a laughable idea. 

“Everything’s fine.” you spat out, sharply, not even bothering to look in her direction before you returned to your townhome, slamming the door behind you. It rattled on the hinges, the wood cracking, the frame beside the door shaking, before landing crooked.

A few angry tears emerged in your eyes, and you rubbed them away, your hand coated in watery, red blood, smearing into your skin. “Fuck,” you muttered, shaking your head as you looked to the bedroom, where you knew Atsushi wasn’t… Even though he should’ve been. 

You screamed, bending over to catch yourself, before you kicked at the wall, a large hole breaking the plaster from the strength you’d forgotten you had. Then you screamed again. And again. Your nails tore into your arms in a ghastly, inhuman way, the skin merely stitching itself back up almost as immediately as you ripped it. 

You could lay there, you thought, glancing over at the windows on the opposite side of the room, the beautiful, golden rock in the sky winking at you as she began to fade into the evening. How easy it would be, to open the glass panels, stand before them and let yourself burn into ashes. You could finally face the sun, let the last century and a half become a mere fraction of what your life could’ve been.

But you didn’t. 

You had some strength in you yet. 

Turning away from the window, you crept into one of the spare bedrooms, where the old coffin you’d slept in before rested on the ground. You’d gotten so used to sleeping in that bed, with Atsushi, that you’d almost forgotten you still had that sense of comfort. 

It was a safety net, one that you happily shrouded yourself in as you dusted off the black cover, settling into the silk red sheets you’d chosen yourself. The feeling of sleep there was so reminiscent of your old life, you half expected to open your eyes and see Dazai there, who had laid beside you, many years after death. 

For the first time in decades, you felt more like a vampire than a pathetic attempt of remaining human. You weren’t sure what to make of that.

Atsushi had crept in and out that morning without making a peep, leaving for the office before the crack of dawn, and returning just as you were emerging from your coffin. 

It was, you knew, something that he had never been able to reconcile with your lifestyle — sleeping in such a way, like the old monsters did, the stories that had always been told. That had partially been the reason he’d offered to take on the daunting task of sun-proofing your home. 

“Are you okay, honey?” Atsushi had asked in his soft voice, eyes narrowed in concern as you emerged from the coffin. “I was worried when I didn’t see you in the room.” 

You smiled, tersely, suddenly remembering yourself, the entirety of last night being chalked up to a poor mistake. It was regrettable, even if Peter was a lousy husband, that his wife would wake up, not knowing where he was. And if he had children, what would they think of their father’s disappearance?

“I’m fine,” you said, shaking off those thoughts. Atsushi certainly didn’t need to be worrying about you, and the murder of a cheating man hardly seemed a sin compared to your hypocrisy. “It just feels strange sleeping in our bed, knowing you won’t be coming home.” 

Atsushi’s eyes softened. His romantic ideals had always been something you could speak to. “I know we’ve had a bit of a rough go of things, but…” he shrugged, reaching out to you, before retracting his hand. “I don’t like staying with Ranpo. I would rather be here, you know.” 

You knew. Of course you knew. It hadn’t been Atsushi that had insisted upon his removal from the apartment. 

“I’m sorry,” you sighed.

“It’s okay.” For a moment, he looked away, then rubbed his face. “I know we said we would wait — that I would wait until we were married, but,” a brief pause, as he swallowed. “Maybe, you should turn me now. If I’m still a risk to you.” 

There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, even if his eyes were steadfast. Atsushi still had faith in his humanity, still held onto it tightly, though every moment spent with you left it quickly slipping through the cracks of his fingers. 

But it was never an issue of marriage that had kept you from turning Atsushi. It was the fact that he was so good, so unlike you and Dazai, that you wanted to put it off for as long as possible. 

You smiled, though it was pained, and shook your head. Imagining Atsushi as a vampire was beginning to make you ill, the vision so against the will of the universe that you weren’t sure it could ever come to pass. 

“I’m okay now, I think. I’ve taken care of it.” 

He didn’t ask what that meant. 

You didn’t bother to tell him, either. 

PART VI

sorry this one is kind of a filler >< i promise there will be more exciting stuff soon !!

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[mschievousx]

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc, anthony bridgerton x ofc (platonic)

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she loves her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

v. five: lonely in your company

the young silva did not expect this at all. yes, lady whistledown wrote about quite a lengthy chat that the viscountess silva had with a certain son of the renowned pathologist, sir astley cooper, yesterday. but, for the rest of the gentlemen to flock her now? she was aghast.

while we have so far seen how she loves being in the bridgertons' companies and how she openly enjoy the things she finds fun, it is also as open she shows her distaste to the rest of the population—probably better that we haven't seen that part yet.

"i heard you like chocolates, lady silva."

"i believe we share the same interest in mechanical science."

"we have quite the collection of guns ourselves, my lady."

"a convention in astronomy is happening in the near future. if i may be so bold to have your presence when the time comes?"

honestly, she liked the last offer—had the man been fifteen years younger. it would have not mattered to her though, if only it was benedict.

the men continued to force their offers on her face. a man pulls another to the back to have his turn. a man pushed his bouquet forward. a man yelled his offer from the back. a man—

"excuse me, gentlemen. may i have a moment with the lady?"

a woman's voice stood out from the clamor, causing the men to turn and giving a space for her to take a hold of the younger one.

the ladies did not wait for the men's responses as they easily linked arms and walked away. although they could not do anything seeing as causing a scene in the queen's presence is not to everyone's benefit, they did groaned and cursed that a viscountess got away from their grasps.

"i cannot thank you enough for that, lady arnold."

loraine spoke gratefulness, her mood still marred from the encounter.

"you know there is no need for that. you act like we do not know each other." the widowed woman warmly smiled at her as she gave a squeeze on the silva's shoulder.

"i am simply grateful," she insisted, followed by a scoff, "i talk to another man and the rest of them think they could."

lady arnold chuckled at her stubborness, "i see, you still have not stopped using your father to fend off possible suitors?"

"i fend them off with anything i can. a gun, if i must."

the older woman said an immediate shush as if on reflex, something akin to a fear of being heard about using guns on suitors—although she herself would love to do so, "do you carry?"

"oh, no. the regular size is too heavy and bulky to conceal in a dress." raine said with clear annoyance that she could not carry one conveniently, "i am currently working on a smaller one."

do note that she already finished one.

at the mention of her creating a smaller version just simply because she would like to hide one made her look staggered at the young one, "and yet, you refuse to join the discussion inside."

lady silva moaned in displeasure, "i already went in. all he talks about is the principle of circular motion."

while interesting at first read, it gets boring mean you have understood it. the concept itself is significant, no doubt, in explaining various natural as well as mechanical sciences. however, she simply did not feel up to it today.

"that and i hate balloons."

lady arnold laughed at her honesty, bidding farewell to her as she continues to the dome. raine walks by herself, trying to find the bridgertons. while she did have other friends, she was not as keen to spend time with them as she did with the said family.

and so, she strolled until she found something interesting. eloise, cressida, and penelope; all surrounding the poor man.

"what do we have here?" she mouthed to eloise from the side of lord debling and penelope.

as the bridgerton girl shrugged and gestured nothing to her, the rest of the group noticed her arrival.

"ah, lady silva." the man greeted with a hidden familiarity.

"lord debling." raine tightly smiled at him in return.

miss cowper turned to the young girl, "loraine, you are an enjoyer of science just like lord debling, are you not?"

"oh, cressida," she began with a chuckle. she does not mean any offense to her though. while the said woman was indeed quite ill-natured, so was she. therefore, she is not one to judge the other, "you would be surprised by the amount of different sciences there are."

lord debling turned back to the cowper, "we do not share the same interest."

"we despise each other." raine nodded to that reassuringly, causing the man to look at her with seriousness.

"i do not despise you."

"your loss," the young silva shrugged with a hint of jest, "i despise you."

"such a strong word, my lady."

"i am petty like that." she giggled, lightly tapping the arm of the man in a friendly manner as she continued.

"do continue your conversation. i apologise for the intrusion."

raine stepped back with a smile and neared eloise, "where is your brother?"

"i did not see him. i thought he is with you?" she asked back, trying to look around herself too to catch a glimpse of her brother.

good thing she was looking around though because she had enough time to grab the other girl by the hand as the extraordinary balloon started to fly their way.

penelope, however, was stunned on their place. lord debling did not think twice to cover the girl for safety. while they did not agree with the science, she would give him points for that act.

raine turned to the men pulling the balloon, seeing colin upfront. such a personality he is embracing now, she thought. another bridgerton stole her attention though, because just meters away, benedict can be seen rubbing his palms as if in pain from pulling the ties.

she turned to eloise to bid farewell, thinking to go to him. however, as she turned back to where he was, he was now rushing to walk away.

her confusion was interrupted when cressida suddenly yelped in pain. catching on to her hidden agenda, raine rolled her eyes.

"ugh, i really hate balloons."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

after the incident, they all went home, likely to also prepare for the ball this evening. she went with the bridgertons to their home, not wanting to disturb her father for whatever work he's doing again.

the girl grumbled as she laid down on their couch, completely not listening to whatever conversation the family was having. everyone was doing something—gregory and hyacinth eating biscuits and quarreling, francesca playing the piano, colin reading and benedict sketching, and violet and eloise talking.

raine groaned once again before speaking on her own, "my father is so busy. it is almost like he is not here at all."

she continued to stare at the ceiling, only looking at the family after a prolonged silence of whatever they were doing. lady bridgerton was staring at her lovingly as eloise added, "and when he is away, you keep on saying you want him to go home already."

raine feigned ignorance to what she said, acting like she did not say that at all—which she did say, by the way, quite a lot too.

"ben," she called for the man across who seems to be ignoring the entire happenings in the drawing room.

"hmm," he replied with a hum, intent on his sketch.

"will you marry me so that someone will be with me when father leaves again?" she said as she sit up about to go to him.

"no," he replied, looking up from the pad and to her briefly before standing up himself, "i will be painting in my room."

he turned away after bidding farewell to everyone, the sound of his footsteps slowly fading. violet and eloise turned to raine after that, confusion clear on their faces as if asking what happened.

honestly, she is asking the same thing.

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

her second ball—to be honest, balls are not as fun as the ton made it out to be. with the exception of what seems to be a men's club inside, there is nothing much in it.

"the surgeon from yesterday said he will be writing you a letter." she turned to see astley cooper, looking more dashing in a ball's fit, and still lacking greetings.

she smiled at what he said, "are they really going to study my suggestion?"

"of course, your points were quite strong. why do you seem to be doubting yourself now?"

she shrugged as she placed her glass down, "i was brazen yesterday. i am not feeling like it now."

letting out a sigh, she lifted her glass again and took quite a sip with a new resolution, "well, they better do because i have already boasted to my father that i made an expert pause and think about my ideas."

he chuckled at her changing moods in just five seconds, "oh, he shall prepare to be more proud then."

"lady silva, may i have this dance?" she turned to her right, only to see the brother of who she's waiting for.

"anthony, i told you. i am not going to dance with you first."

the viscount stood straight again, slowly retracting his hand, "you have not danced yet tonight?"

she let out a small groan at the reminder, "should i have?"

he chuckled, crossing his arms as if in deep thinking before chuckling again, "you are so obsessed with him. it is just a dance. he was already your first ever dance."

raine stopped the glass she was about to drink midway. she narrowed her eyes pointedly to the older man, the latter rolling his eyes, "okay, fine."

"viscountess silva, you are needed." a footman called for the lady, gaining the attention of the pair. his voice carried seriousness, yet that is not enough to reveal what it could be about. they all spoke monotonously during working hours.

she tapped anthony's arm before walking across the room, swiftly dodging the ton.

"lady silva."

a soldier strictly acknowledged the young lady. the man was sweating considerably as he pulled a letter from his pocket. he passed it to the girl in front of him without any word.

as raine took hold of the letter, small red stains are noticeable as well as the lack of seal. she opened to see the contents of it written in a hasty manner. her eyes flew from word to word, line to line. the lack of greetings, the lack of complimentary close.

she was not sure if this was done in jest—she would like it to be. however, upon observing the man in front of her now, his hand is visibly shaking. and so, she shut her eyes closed, crumbling part of the paper on her grip.

"name?"

"morgan," he answered with no mention of his rank. perhaps, this is his way of being sympathetic to the silva in front of him. perhaps, offering himself as a fellow person rather than a soldier would offer comfort.

"tell me where they are, morgan." she stared directly in his eyes, voice now void of the festivities behind her.

"i cannot tell."

"oh, you surely can." her volume starting to increase, sarcasm, anger, fear, and grief mixed.

"my lady, i am under strict command to not tell you their whereabouts." he did not break his eye contact, believing it as a form of respect to the girl.

she stepped forward, grasping her concealed small gun inside her dress out as she start to scream, "tell me or i will—"

"raine," a man grabbed her, pushing the gun down before anyone can wander their eyes on it. he swiftly took and pocketed it on his own. he turned to the young one, putting both palms on her cheek as if to call for her, "raine."

anthony crossed the hall as fast as he could after noticing her crumbling the paper, excusing himself from mr. cooper who conversed with him after she left. he was not the best man when it comes to emotion, but he knows anger like an old friend. and raine? she was rarely angry. she despises everything on a daily basis, but never with rage. and so, he knew something was wrong—very wrong.

he looked at her directly in the eyes, seemingly finding her behind it as he whispered, "there is a lot of people present. the ton is here."

"i do not give a hell about them. where is my father?!" he pushed the viscount away, freeing from his grasp but he reached again instantly, as if knowing how to deal with her already.

"darling, do not yell," he spoke in the same warm voice, "what happened?"

"papa has been shot," her voice broke upon saying it out aloud, just as her tears from her eyes, "in the shoulder and chest!"

raine nearly dropped down, if anthony did not pull her to him in time. although they were outside, the ball is still quite crowded. they could not let this go out. they could not let people see and know of this.

"i—" the viscount could not find the right words to say at the moment, he himself now feeling the panic akin to what he has experienced before.

sergeant morgan informed them of raphael's orders, him being the second-in-command of the currently incapacitated general, "colonel montague has ordered to have you stay in the ball. this is surrounded by our men, and the people responsible are less likely to attack a crowded event."

anthony nodded to acknowledge what the soldier said as raine is starting to lose herself, muttering on her own, "papa was shot."

while the general has certainly been shot before, this is possibly the most fatal. raphael knew that the girl would prefer the exact information, even in grievous situations. she hates when people feel the need to protect her from the truth.

and so, that is what the colonel wrote. he mentioned his state in all its actuality. general has been shot four times, once in the shoulder and thrice on the chest, sternum to left. he is bleeding heavily and is currently unconscious. we will be going on another quarters. i ask you stay at the ball. after, be with major thorpe at all times.

she pushed the viscount once again and turned back to the ball inside, "le—leave me be."

before anthony could take a hold of her, she already has entered inside. forcing to assist the girl would only raise suspicions now. she walked slowly, eyes darting from point to point as if looking for something. good thing it is a ball, and people will brush off her actions as a bit intoxicated—which could not be farther from the truth.

"where's...." she whispered to herself, not knowing that she is saying it out aloud, "where is... benedict?"

raine turned and turned, left and right, but she could not find even his shadow in the dance floor or within the hall. so, she continued to walk aimlessly, only to find who she's looking for at the bottom of the stairs, with a familiar lady conversing with him from a few steps higher. her mind was wandering. she did not understand a thing anymore.

"i need to go," she muttered to no one in particular, turning to a corner where a staircase leading to another wing can be seen.

she gripped the bannister, anthony in tow, seeing his wife in conversation with his mother. he gestured for kate to come to them, offering a smile to not raise worry before disappearing from view.

raine continues to find her way to the balcony, breaths already starting to be more noticeably heavy. fortunately, the place was vacated with no other person in sight. she dragged her feet and found comfort on the corner between the wall and a balustrade, sitting down with her knees on her chest.

"an—anthony," she began after a few gasps of air, the said man leaning closer as he crouched in front of her too.

"papa... papa was shot." the young girl reiterated in disbelief and grief. she left first for the ball as armand told his daughter he had some things to work for a bit with raphael. they were supposed to arrive late in the ball.

they were supposed to arrive on the ball.

he continues to comfort her, saying that her father's going to be well. he is a general, after all. the viscountess bridgerton reaches them with a smile, but it is immediately changed with a confuse and worried one when she sees what's happening.

anthony turned to her in a rushed manner, "kate, get my brother."

she knew better than to ask why. kate has always been a smart woman. she does not know, but she understands. and so, she nodded at him and turned on her heel in a hurry.

"you... will not find him. he—he is..." the girl whimpered. she cannot even see anything, her eyes blurried intensely as she fights to hold on to herself, "with lady..."

anthony caressed her hair before leaning his forehead to hers, speaking with the smallest and most serene voice he could, "shh, it's okay, raine. i am here. you can do—"

there were so many things happening all at once. she could not focus. she could not hold on to this for any longer.

"an..." she began, her words dying in the middle as she gasps and gasps, "tony...? i cannot... i cannot hear."

the fear started to settle in more to her. she cannot even hear her own voice. she hears nothing but the beat of her heart, irregularly fast.

she fumbled, trying to find his hands, and as soon as she did, raine squeezed it tightly.

"tony, i'm..."

she does not even know if she was able to say the following words. she has thought of it before, but more strongly now. she is thinking of it now, and she hopes that the thought counts.

"i need him."

taglist: @aadu2173 @imgondeletedis @pumkiinpasties @rebleforkicks

[ornii]

helloo

Could i request Cate Dunlap from the Gen V show x Male reader pls??

Finally finished Gen V so I can finally do this request and idk why but I think Cate could play a young Jean Grey really well if they decided to reboot the X-Men which in turn gave me an idea for this. (Also Jordan is my favorite character, please protect them.)

Stargazing

Cate Dunlap X Male Reader

It was the criminal investigation Class that set you on the path of Heroism, real heroism.

You were forced to wear a pair of high Destiny deep red glasses that thankfully halted your superpower; concussive beams can emit strongly though your eyes, thankfully you can somewhat control the intensity. From the strength of a slap in the face to a Freight train hitting your opponent at Lightspeed, you had more control than most, making you a potential shoe for the Seven, and into the Top 10.

Vought had their eyes on you and Luke, both of you were constant neck and neck in the eyes of The Uni and Vought. But it wasn’t much of a competition for you two, moreso of a friendly rivalry.. but you two did butt heads when it came to one person, Cate.

Cate had this personality that was abrasive at times but, so genuine and caring too. Made a tough combo for any guy luck or unlucky depending on how she was feeling. And man, she was gorgeous to boot, getting with the top kids you had to be around Luke, Andre, Cate and Jordan, the Big 5 as some would say.. but it’s just Big You.

It was dark, around 1 Am and on the rooftop of Godolkin. Cate, Andre and Luke were enjoying the company and cheap drugs. You, not so much. Keeping a clear head makes it easy for you to keep from taking your glasses off on accident. You sat in the edge of the building, Cate and Lucas on a large rectangular Box and Andre on an AC unit, Cate tilts her head at you.

“(Y/n), are you eyes red under those rose glasses?” She asked smugly, you looked over to her. “Fuck if I know.. dad has the same thing. Never got to see his.” You said, probably making it a bit awkward, and Andre turned to you, a hint of pain in his eyes.

“To Dads, right?” He said, offering a bag of mushrooms, you awkwardly laughed. “Nah I’m.. cool.” You replied. “Don’t think you can handle it?” Luke asked with a slight hint of teasing.

“Cmon, I mean I can make you… but we’re all about consent.” Cate walked over and sat next to you, the hint of vanilla on her perfume, Luke’s smirk slowly faded as cate leaned into your face. Her eyes getting scarily close to your glasses. “Man they’re like, Mars.” She whispered, “So you can only shoot lasers at people? I bet you can do so much more..” Cate leaned back to a normal sitting posture.

“Never considered doing more, just enough..” you replied, Andre nodded. “I get that, I can move metal around but.. can’t really think of much else.” Andre said, Luke nods.

“I can see myself on fire and fly, that’s about it.. I mean there’s a lot of fire and flying supes.” Luke explained, “But yours is.. super unique, we got heat and laser vision but. Concussive like super pressure.” He smiled, “You can go a long way.”

You smiled at that, you and Luke did have a lot of love and respect, even if you two were pitted against each other. You turned to Cate to thank her but saw she looked, drowsy.

“Cate? You okay?” She opened her mouth to speak but even you could see her Sclera was, red.. and her body flipped back, limp. You, Luke and Andre watched her body fly over the ledge, before any of you could mutter a word you leaped back as well.

“What—“

“Fuck!—“ you head Andre and Luke behind you as you plummet after her. They rushed over the ledge as you were able to grab Cate in your arm, you looked at the ground and thought, “Pressure.” You tore of your glasses and screamed, your red eyes flared a deep purple beam of energy, the concussive wave hits the ground with the force of a Racecar crashing into a wall at 100 miles, the sudden shift in force made your neck tense up, but you kept going, the beam slowed your decent with Cate until you could safely land, you hit the ground with both feet firm on the ground. You quickly closed your eyes as you held her.

“Cate? Cate?” You asked her, afraid of what’s going on, you heard the groggy grumbling and sighed with relief, she’s alive, Cate opened her eyes to yours closed. In a crater in the ground ironically. She looked around and back up to the roof, she pieced together what happened, an awkward smiled went along her face as she caressed your cheek.

“Knew you could do more..” she whispered, and you let her back on her feet. She looked up to Luke and Andre and gave a thumbs up, she’s fine. The sat back with relief and anxiety. You and Cate stood in the crater and looked up. “You had me worried there..” you admitted, Cate nodded. “Not my.. best moment… sorry about that. Stars are out tonight at least.” Cate looks around and finds your glasses thankfully you stopped your eye beams before you dropped them. You looked up to face the sky.

“It would be nice to see them, but they’d be rose tinted.” You said, and Cate stared at you and handed you back your glasses.

“Yeah.. but I’m looking at a real bright one right now..”

[c3stlav1e]

Swan Song is the 14th mini album by La Vie under Rainbow Entertainment. It was released on June 1st, 2024. The album features 6 tracks plus a secret track on physical copies of the album, with Heartbeat Rhythm being the title track. It is available both physically and digitally.

La Vie promoted the album for 3 weeks in total. Heartbeat Rhythm peaked at 3 on the Circle Chart. The title track also charted on the Billboard Hot 100, peaking at 30. La Vie won 4 music show awards for Heartbeat Rhythm.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  i. the tracklist !

♡ .   Intro: Act 1 originally composed by Tchaikovsky, re-worked by DAY1

♡ .   Heartbeat Rhythm ( title track ) produced by ROZE, M1KO, and Kang Sol

♡ .   In My Dreams produced by M1KO

♡ .   Fairy of Shampoo produced by ROZE and Kang Sol

♡ .   Black Swan produced by DAY1 and CHASER

♡ . My World produced by HWI and Hiro

♡ . Always Forever ( secret track ) produced by Salem Kueakulsri and Kang Sol, featuring Salem Kueakulsri on guitar and backing vocals

find salem at @plasticflwrs !!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ii. buy the album !

♡ .   White Swan version

. cd, photobook ( 150 p ), photocards ( 10ver. 2ea ), sticker sheet ( 1ver. 1ea ), tracklist ( 1ver. 1ea ), lyric book ( 1ver. 1ea ), Swan Song ribbon ( 2ver. 1ea )

. pre-orders only ; poster ( 5ver. 1ea ), polaroid card ( 5ver. 1ea ), signed polaroid ( 5 ver. 1 ea. random units )

♡ .   Black Swan version

. cd, photobook ( 150 p ), photocards ( 10ver. 2ea ), sticker sheet ( 1ver. 1ea ), tracklist ( 1ver. 1ea ), lyric book ( 1ver. 1ea ), Swan Song ribbon ( 2ver. 1ea )

. pre-orders only ; poster ( 5ver. 1ea ), polaroid card ( 5ver. 1ea ), signed polaroid ( 5 ver. 1 ea. random units )

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ iii. the styling !

♡ .   an all blonde era for the ages!!

♡ .   pinks, black and white, soft, ruffles, bows, ribbons, feminine and dainty

♡ .   one stage featured all white outfits completed with white feathered wings, emulating the white swan imagery

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ iv. the reception !

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ v. the highlights !

♡ .   as soon as the title of the album was announced, fans immediately began speculating that this was a disbandment comeback

♡ .   with the lack of response from rbe on the matter and fans eventually finding the secret track on physical copies titled "always forever," the speculations only grew

♡ .   it wasnt until anya went on life during promotions for the album and saw the influx of questions about disbandment did she deny the rumors

♡ .   "disbanding? no, we're not disbanding," she laughed, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. "as far as i know, at least," she teased before moving on.

♡ .   the biggest thing that marred this era was the all-out war brought on by mari's single release only a few days after the album was dropped

♡ .   ot5 fans vs. mari solo fans was the majority of the fighting, but even ot6 and non-lovies were choosing sides and talking about the drama

♡ .   neither mari nor the rest of la vie had anything to say about it until an infamous, now deleted, live where tomi talks about mari's solo and exactly what she thinks about it

♡ .   some were shocked by this, calling tomi jealous or bitter while some fans agreed with what she had to say

♡ .   instagram stories from her private instagram account were later leaked showing her opinion on the topic

♡ .   other than the drama, this era was rather successful!

♡ .   the girls went viral for their ethereal beauty in several of their performance videos, especially the one where they donned white wings with their outfits

♡ .   #musicbankangels was trending for 2 days after the episode aired, a tag filled with lovies and non-fans alike posting fancams and fawning over their visuals, especially the innocent looking sohee

♡ .   the 2sun shippers got ahold of fairy of shampoo and went wild!! especially with sol having credits on the song

♡ .   the audio on tiktok was filled with edits of sunnie and sol almost immediately, and it started a trend with other wlw and lgbt ships as well, and pretty soon the song became the poster of gay relationships on the app

♡ .   it's unclear whether sol knew about the trend or not, but she did post a story to instagram featuring a table set for two with the audio overtop, sending the shippers into even more of a frenzy

♡ .   the group reprised a beloved series, lovie's fruit stand, with lovie lake, a series where the girls stayed in a cabin together on a lake in the mountains, relaxing and doing summer activities together such as having a barbecue, singing around a campfire, and even swimming in the lake

♡ .   the fans love the relaxing and cozy content from this series, and photo of anya lounging in an innertube on the lake unaware of star approaching mischievously in the background became a new reaction image that made the rounds all over stan twitter

♡ .   overall, this era truly made it's impact !!

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1115 - Initial Thoughts

And we are back from another break

Another sneaky upload while I was coming home from work by TCB, plus other business has delayed me a bit, but now we can get to it

Secrets are pouring out, Joy Boy the pirate

Tell us more, Vegapunk

Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release too

Back with the Yamato cover story, packing a lunch with Toko and Hiyori

And we're sticking with Wano since even they have the broadcast

They have the flag up as well, Straw Hat territory

Seems they had a Den Den Mushi in Orochi's possessions

Momo muses about Joy Boy being a pirate, having learned about him from Oden's journal

Tama's still there enjoying food too, seems like she lives in the palace now

Shinobu though hasn't 'matured' to her usual look, still looks younger

G4 Base?

Oh fucking...really? XD Demaro Black doesn't miss a hustle

Fake Kid Pirates mein godt hahahaha give it up lad

I mean why would you want to pose as someone who's worth 3 billion? You know how many would kill for 3 billion?

The navy at Egghead are also listening intently to his broadcast, as Vegapunk goes deeper into Joy Boy's past

He's only able to cover from a few Poneglyphs he's had access to (likely the ones Ohara had) but as we expected, a great war occurred; Joy Boy vs the future World Government

Dude was THIS CLOSE to the 'wait, are we the baddies?' moment

Warcury is not happy, as he still chases Luffy and the giants through fire

Mars is pissed too, using his Conqueror's Haki to destroy as many Den Den Mushi as he can find

Vegapunk continues though; of course the WG were just known as the 'Allied Powers' a coalition of 20 kingdoms against Joy Boy's faction - which in itself is a frightening display of Joy Boy's strength, even the superpowers of today could be taken down by a couple countries united, but 20? It took 20!

Alas, Vegapunk doesn't know why the nations were in conflict, just that it was a clash of ideologies, likely control vs freedom, but he chooses not to judge the morality

Zunesha is pensive, as the broadcast emits through Zou

CARROT! We missed you dearie, she's got a fancy Duke coat but she should be in Egghead with the crew ¬_¬

Still, she marvels at Vegapunk noting how Joy Boy's kingdom was advanced beyond even modern science

Oh lord, it isn't just Demaro Black we're bringing up for joke cameos, I know that laugh, I know that headpiece!

Mother Fucking Foxy XD What is that tache man?

Seems it's just him, Porche and Hamburg sailing on a little boat, bandaged up and getting the rumblies

We go back to Stussy, who is contacted by Edison as Kaku lounges in the bubble still

Edison encourages Stussy to drop the barrier, it's useless since the Gorosei could just break through

Feels like you could've called her before diving through the barrier and nearly killing yourself bud

Saturn's also using haki to destroy the Den Den Mushi

Edison puts his confidence in the Straw Hats though

Nami contacts Jinbe, still carrying Zoro - who takes umbrage with him apologizing, since he was busy dealing with Lucci

Nami notices that the blockade is moving to their escape route, encouraging they hurry in her own way

Back to Stussy, she shows relief that the Straw Hats are likely to escape, but without Vegapunk, she wonders what remains for her, she has no purpose

Something Kaku seems pensive about, perhaps even sympathetic, since he can't suggest to her the zoo

Back to V. Nusjuro and Bonney kicks at the Gorosei as he seems to cut Oimo

Not a good landing for Sanji either

Seems V. Nusjuro's not paying full attention to the fight either, trying to use his Observation Haki to sense where the broadcast snail is

Still, he breaks free and slices at Bonney, only for her to be saved by Franky

The slash cuts the figurehead of the giant's ship, better that than Bonney's head, but now she's tuckered out since Distorted Future takes up stamina

As V. Nusjuro leaves the battle and we pan to Zunesha and the Iron Giant we confirm that the void century ended with Joy Boy's defeat

It's not the biggest revelation since the WG rule the world after all, but it also puts further context into all the regrets with Joy Boy and his comrades we have read about in the past

To limit the amount of life signs on the island, V. Nusjuro takes more drastic action, cutting the entire Labophase in half

This causes the CP agents and the bubbled Seraphim to fall to the Fabriophase below

As the Gorosei let gravity try to take those who swore loyalty to them, Vegapunk makes the latest revelation

Sea travel is perilous around the world, it's common knowledge, but a millenia ago it was not; the ancient world, the civilizations that existed in the void century, it's all underwater - they built on top of the ancient world

Also I gotta point out there's some absolutely stunning visual panels in this chapter

Koushiro and the Revolutionary Army also react to the broadcast, only he, Sabo and Dragon appear pensive

Coco Village!? Gen san how you doing! And Nojiko! Still preferred the short hair but she don't care about no global warming she has tangerines to look after XD

Vegapunk continues; before there were vast continents, which'd explain why so few would go out to sea beforehand, and with all of the evidence underwater it explains how the WG can erase a century of history, but it goes deeper - figuratively and literally

Since the void century, the sea has rose 200 METERS!

That's over 600ft; the size of the United Tower, bigger than the Great pyramid of Giza, and that's all Water Level

Naturally, the listeners - the navy - are floored by this revelation, since a Warship is only 60m, but other soldiers tell them to stop listening

There's at least some sense of loyalty - or preservation of cost - for the marines to try and 'rescue' the CP agents and Seraphim from gravity-induced splatter, a la one of their world leaders

Alas Mock Town must mock, there is one among the crowd who isn't laughing though, another one seems to have ignored gravity

Sakura kingdom - mainly Dalton - reflects on the revelation, with Kureha mulling how things continue to get interesting

Oh hey, Miss Goldenweek! Passing by as the island uses a mountain to compare the height

At Water Seven (given the Galley La jacket) Vegapunk discusses how such a thing can occur, and reveals it to have been man-made

Morgans is livid about all this BIG ASS NEWS, having to be shushed by Vivi

Vegapunk continues to show his work; there were no signs, no studies, no science to confirm a natural build up, and if it was natural it would've been made known as a world-altering event

He hints at the use of the Mother Flame, confirming his suspicions

The Gorosei - except Ju Peter, wormy is not getting a lot of love from Oda atm - look furious as Vegapunk continues to note that the sea level rises were caused by the ancient weapons

Those weapons remain dormant, waiting to be used again

And as we pan over to Imu Vegapunk reveals something both horrifying and sobering at the same time: The War Is Not Over

Every island was once a mountain

But time didn't have the influence it should have, Oda has been getting biblical with this lore drop by giving us the common religious theme of The Deluge. Flood myths exist in many religious stories and mythology (which I will keep separate to not ruffle feathers), most common because of Christianity is the flood in the Book of Genesis, which we've already touched upon in One Piece given Noah's Ark. Since we tread nearer to Elbaf it's worth noting that a flood as a role in Ragnarok also;

"the sun becomes black and the earth sinks into the sea, the stars vanish, steam rises and flames touch the heavens."

Once more this was a chapter where Vegapunk's broadcast takes more priority over the things we're seeing, but there are some stunning panels to enhance the revelations, we see also the Gorosei flaunting their haki showing the level they are while the monster trio remain incapacitated or indisposed. I'm at least proud of Franky coming in for some more rescue clutch action, but with Stussy I'm less convinced now that she'll be killed by Lucci, Kaku's silence is loud and maybe, just maybe, they can all see this as a way out. The CP agents are likely not to survive the fall, the Seraphim will and probably will live to fight the Straw Hats under orders of the Gorosei or York, they will likely be used more since the Pacifista are compromised. As for the revelations, a mix of stuff we assumed being confirmed and stuff that theorists have pondered and been vindicated, it's all underwater, which explains the walls in Wano, why Zou is on Zunesha's back (sidebar, how fucking long are Zunesha's legs? like it's gotta be 200m+ submerged alone), and why Water Seven's ruins run so deep.

Still, I enjoyed all the cameos, appreciated seeing Carrot again, and a Vivi cameo is always nice, plus I had to laugh with Demaro Black and Foxy, like who's next? Kuro? Morgan? Krieg? Arlong? Enel?? We have to get to Buggy and the Cross Guild at one point ofc, plus this could be an avenue to reveal the status of Perona, Moria, Weevil, etc.

but outside of that, little progress from the Straw Hats and the incident unfolding in Egghead right now, but given the revelations Vegapunk is giving the Straw Hats time, the Gorosei aren't focusing on them, they're looking for the broadcast snail - and I don't think it's even on the island.

[harryleatherfit]

Poker Face🃏|| 7.5k

Joel Miller (no breakout! au) x F! Genius Reader

1980’s Vegas Strip, late night in the Bellagio Hotel, smoking and waiting on some poker with your friend Margaret, infamous Corporate Litigators walk in for a game to play, sitting at your table comes Joel Miller, little do any of them know that you have a photographic memory.

warnings: gambling, mentions of bullying, women’s life in the 80’s, asshole men, p in v sex (wrapped!), clit stimulation, doggy style, squirting (but she doesn’t know), f oral receiving, fingering v, alcohol consumption, smoking, RICH JOEL, etc etc

word count: 7.5K

One Shot Playlist

Rush- Troye Sivan

Million Dollar Man- Lana Del Ray

In My Feelings- Lana Del Ray

Family Tree- Ethel Cain

Vegas strip, Bellagio. 1982.

Late at night, the bottom floor of the bellagio hotel was usually filled to the brim. The massive room is predominantly packed with businessmen , hookers, CEOS, average folk and tourists. You weren’t any of the above but you were special. Nobody knew your secret, nobody knew that the girl at the corner of the Poker table would always win, and this made you a gem. Not a tourist. Not an old rich white man. Not a hooker. Out of all the possibilities from the Vegas stript you were a fucking winner.

On multiple occasions, men from every block of the room would try to buy you a drink, lure you to the top floors of the hotel, bring you into private rooms, intrigue you with money and sex parties. But they always failed, mens tactics could never work on you.

You had to take it, accept that this was how you would always be viewed, not a woman but a body. After this, nothing felt better than taking their fucking money on the casino floor untouched.

Starting from this, Every weekend you would follow your friend Margaret to her job at the Bellagio, she was a dealer for poker, and got called in on very busy weekends. You didn’t mind tagging along all these years, she knew you would have fun too.

Margaret always wanted more for you, she would show you guys that she thought would be good for you. Slightly talking to them to make her happy. But never being satisfied with their answers.

Single and rich in vegas? Shit.

Were you average? Not particularly.

You were sitting back at the corner of the table on a hot summer night, studying the cards. It was earlyish in the evening, a live jazz band playing in the corner of the room. Welcoming people to stay in their hotel and stay a while for a game. Maragaret was setting up her table and drinking wine.

You understood the game of poker, it intrigued you, cards considering your future fortune. Poker was the game all the men wanted to play. Night after night of studying the game and the cards, you would eventually study the men, profile them and figure all the money they had to give from their pockets.

“What’s your plan tonight, you smart bitch?” She asks, moving around her chips and taking a sip from her glass. She opened her cigarette container, handing you one and giving you a light. She would always buy a carton for the both of you to smoke through.

She was dressed in a tight long black skirt with a backless wine red top. She was limitlessly beautiful and you couldn’t understand why she wasn’t taken, but then again you were best friends for a reason. You were wearing a black slip on silk dress, in the 80’s on the vegas trip, nobody would have cared how much clothes you wore.

“Hmmm, I’m thinking of making enough money for the both of us to go away for a while… I was thinking about New York.” You wink, “I hear it’s an up and coming city, c’mon we stay for a while and see what happens.”

“Maybe, depending on how much you make.” She laughs.

“1,000? 2? Maybe 3?”

“Don’t test your luck hot shot, you don’t even have a thousand to give, and then the moment you lose how would you pay them?”

“I’d find a way.” You grin, you point at your head.

“Mhm photographic memory will always beat the penis owners in here.” She giggles.

“I’ll drink to that Marg.”

Your ‘gift’ was the reason why you would win, after visiting Marg at her job and participating in some games, luck wasn’t your factor in winning every game. It was your memory.

You could see the cards the way Margaret would shuffle them, you would remember where they were placed in the deck, slightly peeking at the cards from your opponents.

When you would leave the strip with cash spilling out of your purse, it was a rush you couldn’t describe, a euphoria you never wanted to share with any other man. It was all for you, you did this all on your own, you were your own person and you never had to make a man happy.

You tried to act dumb, you tried to shade it off everytime you won, everytime you knew what cards the men around you had you had to play it off with a nice smile.

Growing up, you used this to your advantage, you flew through school and college. Growing up in the 60s-70s and being smarter than all the boys in your class was practically unheard of. But this, this was a challenge for you. Practically gambling your life away, just on your memory was a thrill you thought you would never experience. Using your looks and your brain to use men made you feel powerful.

You thought of this as your night job, but you worked for a place that invented math. It was quiet and secluded, but in the 80s, something was always being invented. Margaret always asked you questions, always wondered how you had the storage for this in your brain. You couldn’t believe it yourself, but you studied the philosophical part of math, why more things needed to be invented. This was never important to you, but it did pay well.

“There’s supposed to be a group of men from a bigger company coming in tonight.” She nudges at you.

“And…” You drag.

“Who knows…they come over here, play a game with you. You find a man that will sweep you off your feet and marry you!”

“Hell nooo, no marrying.” You shriek, “No long term commitments please, I owe myself at least that. But if they’re rich then maybe some rounds.” You smile.

New York was smelling real rich right now.

“Of fuck… look they’re coming in now, look, look!”

You flip your body around the chair, looking down the pathway from where the concierge meets the casino, a group of men cascading down the carpet.

It was a group of 5 men, all dressed in suits, hair tassel elegantly, black dress shoes shined with not one smear. You could practically smell them from a mile away. You could tell they were talking under their breath, laughing.

You and Margaret practically ogle them, you haven’t seen men like this before.

They had a style of fashion, you could tell they had money, and you could tell they weren’t from here.

You whisper, “Do you have any idea of what company?”

“No, I was just told there were important men coming in tonight and be prepared to see lots of cash tonight.”

Fucking hell.

They come closer to your side of the room, they pass the jazz band, pass all the food and side sushi restaurants, they weave through all the smaller gambling games coming over to the poker and black jack side.

You knew it.

“Look away, look away, if you look at them they’ll wanna come sit here.” You blow smoke out.

“That's the point!.” Marg whispers under her breath.

Not many tables were full, but there wasn’t an almost completely empty table for all of the men to fill. You knew they would sit with you, it was as if this night was planned.

They walk closer to you, feeling the breeze of all of them brush past you, standing at the game, observing the two girls in front of them.

“Is this table taken?”

You turn around again, drawing in your breath as you do so. The men standing in front of you were beautiful, but one in particular, you had to double take to make sure he wasn’t Burt Renolds. The man you suppose that asked, was the most godly creature you’ve seen.

“Not as long as you all would like to play some rounds with me.” You smirk.

They chuckle and eye you, taking a draw out of your cigarette. You move your jacket and purse from the table beside you, Marg moves her things from the table and reap through the cards.

“Mind if I sit next to you?” The man asks.

“No, please. I’m delighted.” You don’t miss your opportunity to realize how tall he is.

“Ready for some Texas Hold’em?” Marg asks.

“Giddy up horsey!” One of the men opposite from you chuckle, they all seem keen with each other, delighted that they could play together. He waivers down a server for alcohol, getting a bottle and glasses for the group.

“Darlin, would you like some?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” You mumble. Prim and proper was all you had to be. At this very minute you were mindlessly going through the combinations of cards when Margaret was shuffling the cards. You could hear the stifling of the suits falling in place within her hands.

The man next to you hands over a glass, “What’s your name sugar?”

“So we’re on a first name basis now?” You tease, “What’s yours handsome?”

“Mhm I’m handsome now?” He shakes your hand, “ I’m Joel.” You see his skin, you scan his hand. His fingers are really fucking big. He had massive rings on a couple of his fingers, but noy any on his ring fingers. Your hand slips through his, not going unnoticed, the veins starting at his palm, his finger nails trimmed, cuticles cut perfectly.

You give him your name, looking the other way to get the last drag out of your cigarette.

He whispers your name to himself, like a soft prayer.

“Next to me is my brother Tommy, that's James, Tyler, and William.”

“Nice to meet you all.” You say, grabbing another cigarette out of Margs carton, cupping the light with your hands.

“Where you from?” He asks in a southern drawl. You can tell he’s not from here.

“I’m from Reno, grew up in Nevada my whole life. What about you Joel?”

“My brother and I are from Texas, I don’t ‘bout those yayhoos but we just recently moved to New York a couple years ago for our jobs. We’re all corporate litigators.”

“Corporate Litigators, impressive.” You chuckle.

He pauses, “ What do you do for a livin?”

What did you do for a living? You couldn't tell him.

“Well Margret and here, we're best friends, we work for each other.”

“You work for each other, in what way?” Tommy asks, Joel studies you.

“This one here can get you in trouble, watch out guys.” Margaret fills in, you roll your eyes laughing, you have to be careful how you start the night off with them, you can’t immediately believe you’ll win.

“Who wants the small blind and big blind?” Marg asks.

“No worries Joel and I will take it, wouldn’t want the lady and you hooligans having to pay immediately.” Tommy bellows.

You smirk, how kind of you.

“I’ll bet 20, what about you Joel?”

“100.” He blurts.

“Slow down, cowboy, don’t wanna scare off beautiful over there.”

“You’re not scaring me off, the night just started Tommy.”

Joel gets a wad of cash out, handing Marg a 100$ bill and her eyes avert to his cash, looking at you and winking. She passes out your 2 cards for the preflop round.

“What are you boys doing here in Vegas?” You ask.

“We’re just in town on a court case, profiling who we’ll be dealing with next week.” William replies.

“And to get some nice nights out.” James adds, his pupils were blown practically blown looking at you but there was no interest. He looked greasy and grimy. He looked like he was your age but he looked small and puny, begging for pussy without doing anything to earn it. Pathetic.

“Sugar, mind passing me a cigarette?” Joel asks.

You don’t falter giving him one, obediently doing as you're told. Fuck, this is not how you wanted this to go, but this was so much fun you couldn’t help it.

Your hand skids his again, begging for more. You give him a light and his Disneyland eyes thank yours.

Checking your cards, Queen of Diamonds, 10 of Diamonds you’re lucky you got the same suit. Not too bad, that means there’s a ⅖ probability someone would fold, would it be Joel?

“K sweets, you’re next to the big blind, what do you pick?”

You ponder, “I’ll call.” You shove in 100$ worth of chips, this is a test to see if anyone will twitch. If someone did you’d know they’d fold.

“I like that pretty girl.” Joel rasps.

Fucking hell.

William immediately folded, he looked embarrassed with the cards he got. Tyler calls with another 100$, James puts in 100$, and Tommy puts in 80$ to make it even.

600$ dollars itching to be touched.

“When you’d learn how to play poker darlin '?” Joel sits up.

“Well this until 3 years ago but I loved playing card games in college, an easy way of entertainment.”

“Entertainment huh? What’s entertainin’ to you?”

“Lots of things Joel. People, money, men, dreams, Vegas.” You trail off.

Marg giggles, “She’s a gem if you didn’t know.”

You smirk.

“That’s okay, gems make it big in this world, I’m here to experience one.” He shifts his hands to slightly touch yours.

You studied his face, his scruff looked enticing, his mustache making your mouth water. You haven’t felt anything this pungent for a man in years. You couldn’t control yourself. He looked years older than you, he wouldn’t want a girl your age? He could have anyone in this room, Margaret for fucks sake, not you.

But his hands, his arms bulged in his suit, his thighs expanding on the seat below him, his black shoes against the red of the carpet, the glow of the dark room coinciding with his skin, you needed to drink him.

“Princess we’ve been wavin to you, it’s your turn.”

Marg put down the 3 community cards.

King of Diamonds, Jack of Diamonds, Ace of Diamonds.

What were the fucking odds.

Tommy bet 100, Joel bet 100, not it was your turn to match or fold.

“100 in.” You murmur. Tyler folds.

“I’ll put in 150$.” James swindled more chips. You, Joel and Tommy did the same. Fucking arrogant asshole.

With Tyler and William out, 4 cards discarded that must have been bad, you, Joel and Tommy must have somewhat reasonable hands, you’d put that they’d both have some royalty after seeing the community being shown. James probably thinks he has the best hand. You wouldn’t walk away without a fight tonight.

“What’s it like in New York City, I’ve never been.” You slip on your drink, letting the warmth of the alcohol spread across your body. You could practically feel the heat radiating off of Joel's body, you would do anything to be alone with him.

“It’s fun, it's a big city, so much to do, so many different cultures, definitely better than farm field Texas.” He replies. “The night life there is a whole different world.”

“Better than here?”

“Darlin, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” He says.

You shuddered in your seat, rearranging your legs to burn the heat in your lower abdomen.

“We got some strippers last night, best night of my life.” James stammers.

Of course you did.

“You did dipshit, not us you fuckin pig.” Tommy reprimands.

It’s the turn round, Marg flips the fourth community card, 7 of Clubs.

Half the deck is still left, 4 on the table, 4 discarded with William and Tyler, 8 between the rest of you 4. All the 2’s must have been in the deck, a chance of Tommy having a 7, Tyler or William could’ve had 8s, leaving James and Joel with Kings.

Tommy keeps James busy, as Tyler and William are talking to Marg.

“How old are you honey?” Joel pips up, letting the smoke fog away from his mouth.

“I’m 24.”

He hums, “Just turned 40 this past month, feels weird but I guess it’s the prime age.”

“40’s perfect for a man, emotionally mature, physically at his best, life already put together. Don’t you agree?” You stare.

He ticks his jaw, peering into your soul, “I agree with you sugar, you can already read me like an open book.”

“Married?” Please say no.

He gets closer to you, “Divorced, but don’t tell the town I’m a divorced old fox.” He smiles.

“Why?”

“We both weren’t happy, it was a mistake to start with, our parents liked us for each other but our first night after being married we both knew it wasn’t going to work. After a year we separated and secretly got divorced. Parents freaked out but they’re dead now.” He shrugged.

You move sideways in your chair, moving your head to the side to study him, “I’m sorry, that must’ve been hard. Love is hard, finding people is hard. But I’m glad you’re out of it.”

“Ah darlin, long time ago but thank you.” He shucks a smile and his teeth were pearly white, he was perfect. No fault about him yet, and you hoped you wouldn’t find one. “Are you busy after this?” His eyes glare at you.

You glare at him, “No…I can be.”

“Good.” He hums.

“Ok 150$” James puts in his chips.

“I gotta fold man, can’t risk this.” Tommy holds up his wallet.

“150$.” Joel shoves in his chips.

Your turn.

“150$.” You follow.

“River round everyone.” Marg cheers. She eyes you, can you do this?

Yes. You blink.

She flips the last community card, 8 of Clubs.

“What about you? Married? Relationships?” Joel shifts.

“Single, I’m not the dating type. Never have been. She is though.” You point at Margret.

She puts her hands up in shock, playing along with you. “In High School I wasn't really the boys type. I wouldn’t do anything for them if you catch my drift.”

“Well sugar those are high school boys, boys then are always mean. Some still are now.” He hums looking toward James. “They’re cruel, and demeaning, fathers never teachin them right.” With his free hand he dances it around yours, delicately touching your fingers.

“Were you taught right?”

“I don’t think so, but I learned.” He clears his throat.

“Our dad was in the war when we were growin up, so we had our Ma and each other.” Tommy informs.

Now it makes sense.

“I’m gonna raise it to 200$.” James riggles his eyebrows, staring at you.

“I’ll fold, it’s been a good game.” Joel slumps back into his chair.

Just you and James now.

“200$, all in.” You grin, your breath slows.

All you can think about is Joel, he’s in your peripheral vision. All you can think about is how he looked walking down the hallway. How meticulous he’s been with his questions and answers. What his life has been like. His hands. His hair, his umber hair. You race your mind trying to think if you’ve ever seen him before, where has this man come from?

You swore off men from the hotel, only money. But he must be an exception, you have to let yourself have him. Your brain could turn off for one night.

“You think you can do this pretty girl?” Joel whispers, pretty girl.

You nod your head, putting out your cigarette and leaning closer to the table.

Joel places his hand on your thigh, giving you a squeeze of reassurance.

Fuck, if you stood up you could see a ring of wetness with your black dress, you knew it.

“Ok flip your cards.”

James goes first, he has 10 Hearts and 9 Spades.

“7 club, 8 club, 9 spades, 10 hearts and Jack hearts… there's a straight honey.”

You chuckle, you couldn’t believe he thought that was good enough. You thought he had cards like you but…

“10 of Diamonds, Jack of Diamonds, Queen of Diamonds, King of Diamonds, and Ace of Diamonds,” You pause, “Royal flush.” You pop.

His face loses all color, and Joel gets out of his seat cheering for you. Marg starts yelling and Joel picks you up, not believing what his eyes had seen. His hands lay above your ass, holding your waist in the most comfortable position.

“That’s my girl, “Joel whispers in your ear.

“A girl beat you James, what are you gonna do about it? Whimper you little cry baby.” Tommy teases.

Joel sets you down and you take a snapshot with your head, how tall he really is against you, you beating this whole group of men, Margaret screaming of joy for you. She pushes all the chips towards you, way over 1000$.

“Well boys, that was a good game,” You seductively smile, “How ‘bout another?”

They groan, sitting there in defeat.

“I’m gonna go to the club, if you boys wanna join. Don’t bring the bitch with you.” James huffs.

You look at him with disgust and Joel grabs his suit jacket, pulling him back.

“What’d you call her?”

“A fuckin bit-.”

“Okay guys break it up, James fuckin leave man. You’re too drunk for a club.” Tommy gets up with William and Tyler, hauling James with them. Joel stays back looking at the table with you and Marg.

“I’ll go uh cash this in for you, call me later?” Marg asks.

You nod your head, mentally thanking her that she’s leaving you with him, you have the feeling he couldn’t be much worse than James, but much better.

“I’m sorry Darlin for him, he’s always been a pain in the ass. M’boss thinks he’s a great addition to the team but he’s gonna get locked up one day.” He growls.

You grab your things, “It’s okay Joel, I’m used to it. Happens a lot around here, told you I was trouble.” You smile.

“You’re gorgeous, but you could never be in trouble.” He holds his breath, not knowing how to continue with you, but you for sure would be busy with him all night.

“Walk with me?” You give him your hand. He follows you like a lost puppy.

“I barely know you Joel but I trust you, what do you do with a woman's trust?”

He laughs, “You harbor it, caress it. Take care of her trust. You listen to her, do as you're told.”

“Hm, good.” You walk ahead of him, hand in hand, praying he’s looking at your ass. Swaying your hips in your dress. A male's gaze never feeling this good before. You’re in a quieter area of the Casino, jazz band farther away, out of the poker room near the concierge.

“What does Joel do in his free time?”

“Well, study on cases, he works out, he eats well, travels.”

“Typical.” You giggle,

“What do you do in your free time?” He asks.

“You won't laugh?”

“I invent math.”

“What?”

“Well earlier I was playing with you with my friend, we do kinda work for each other, but I invent theoretical math.” You confirm. “I guess in my free time.”

He stops in his tracks, holding onto you, staring.

“What?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t know that was a thing.” He huffs.

“Who do you work for? Mr Corporate Litigator?”

“Miller law firm.”

You stop in your tracks, “That’s right,” You tut, “I knew it, you’re Joel Miller. I’ve seen you in a newspaper before.”

“You have?”

“I have, I recall you win a lot.” You play with him.

“I do, I win everything darlin.” He hums.

You’re near the elevators of the hotel, practically begging him to bring you up, risking every moral you have in your bones.

“How long are you in town, Joel Miller?” You groan into his chest, your boobs press up against him, his hand slips over your ass.

“Only for tonight, I leave late afternoon tomorrow.”

The elevator dings, he walks in leaving you there, his eyes are dark. He looks helpless and his hair is distressed, every instinct in your body pushes you forward into the car. The door closes, and you practically hear colors.

He turns you around smashing his lips on yours.

You can’t breathe, he's moving so fast, his mouth is intoxicating, your mind is not able to comprehend that his hands are wrapping around your face, pulling for more. The cold of his rings cause goosebumps to crinkle on your back.

“Fuck, floor 36.” He pushes it and resumes, your lipstick is all over his face, but he doesn’t care. His tongue dances with yours, he’s spilling into you.

You break from him, “You’re not scared that I’m younger?” He holds you.

“No, you’re not scared that I’m ancient?”

“You’re not ancient, you’re fucking hot.” You moan into him, kissing his face, moving to his neck. His breathing changes, you have him backed against the elevator, he’s holding onto the railing for support.

You pray no one has to walk in, you only want this moment with him. The elevator dings and needs a card activation before opening, he slips it out of his wallet, and the doors open to a whole suite.

You continue to kiss, he pulls you into the room, illuminating every part of the room. You drop your coat and purse, he chucks his suit jacket on the floor. You stumble to the couch, you both sit, eating eachother alive. His hands lay atop your hips and the weight of his rings are making you shiver.

He drops to your neck and collar bone, exploring your chest. Your dress was cut low enough that he could kiss and suck every part that he wanted.

You weave your hands through his hair, lowering yourself on the fabric.

“Wait, wait. Pretty girl, I wanna go slow. I don’t want this to be a sleazy one night stand.” He pulls back.

“I mean it technically is,” You groan.

“It doesn’t have to be,“ He leans on his couch, shifting to kiss you, “I don’t want this to be my first and only time with you.”

Your heart palpitates, you’ve never had anyone truly want to be with you. He was lustful right now, but you could tell he meant it.

“If you don’t want that then I respect that but I just met you and I-”

You shut him up by kissing him, shifting your tongue to fill every crevice of his face. You pull him on top of you, squeezing him to your body so he can squish you. You want his weight on you, you want his body to be warm and free.

“If you fuck me tonight Joel… I may just have to follow you to New York tomorrow.” You moan.

“First class tickets bought immediately in the morning then.” He rasps.

You flip and immediately switch him to go under you so you’re free straddling his lap. He laughs, holding on to your hips and your dress folds up to your stomach, showing your red underwear.

You grab his hand, slipping his fingers into your mouth, he watches darkly.You moan around his hand, feeling the weight of it all in you, praising his body.

You soak his rings, saliva coating them and you slip them off with your teeth, letting them drop on his chest. His eyes switch everytime you move. You manage to keep eye contact with him until you start grinding on him. The moment you lose all sense of self-control and let spit fall out of the sides of your mouth, not caring if it slides down your face.

You can feel him growing against you, his dress pants becoming tighter as you move your hips. The last ring comes off and his fingers are bare, you wipe your mouth and move your dress higher so his hands can go under the fabric.

He breathes, “You’re beautiful, most beautiful human I’ve seen. Most beautiful woman I’ve met.”

Your heart swells, tears almost at hand. But it’s the first night, he can’t really mean it.

Sex haze fills your brain and you grab the bottom of your dress to pull it off of you, leaving you only in your underwear. You didn’t wear a bra due to the low back, and you couldn’t have cared less.

His jaw drops, and the cold air of his breath hits your nipples, willowing them into peaks. He brushes his fingers past them, gently grabbing them. He almost tickles them, but his touch. Only his touch has made you this hard, this warm.

“Joel, feels so good… so soft.”

“Melt with me baby, so soft and beautiful. I could have you for years.”

The more he talked, the more heaven made sense to you. Strings of music played in your head welcoming you to the land of being complete.

“Fuck me Joel, fuck me like we’ve known eachother for years, don’t hold back. Please.” You stammer.

“Are you sure?” He pushes your hair behind your ear, “We go on your terms, baby.”

“I’m sure.” You confirm, “I want nothing more than this Joel, I want you. I want more in life. You.”

You softly unbutton his shirt, revealing his body, revealing every scar, every hair, every stretch mark. You were going to cherish him like you’ve known him you’re entire life. You shove his shirt down his arms, he admires you with no words, only hums. He sits up.

“Here? Or bed? Or anywhere?”

“Take me to bed.” You plead.

He picks you up, hoisting you to his chest, grabbing your ass to keep you next to him. You get to capture the whole room with your head, and it's the most expensive and nice place you’ve been. He opens the door to the bedroom, the drapes open, the bed frame designed as with wispy pillars. Decor reminding your of Italia Bohemia, he’s really fucking rich. He goes to close the curtains.

“Don’t.” You whisper. “Fuck me here for the world to watch.”

He sets you down, continuously making eye contact with you. He drops to his knees letting you lean against the glass of the window, the stars behind you and the lights of Vegas getting the best view of your ass.

“First,” He kisses your leg, “I want to do something.”

You were scared, usually when you had sex you’d go straight into fucking, and you had enjoyed it. But this, this was different.

He parts your legs, using the backs of his hands to part your legs, you know the ring of your juices have soaked the fabric covering you. He brushes his fingers over your covered entrance, over your throbbing clit. You shudder at his boldness, at his bravery for touching you before you touched him.

“Feel’s good?”

You nod your head, at a loss for words.

“Can I take these off?”

You nod, his fingers pull at the sides of your underwear leaving you bare in front of him, your heart rate pounding, scared he won’t like what he has in front of him. This was always the scariest part. You hold your breath, if he left right now you wouldn’t even cry, it felt too good to be real. You had hair, it was a thing to shave but you decided to keep what you were given. You didn’t care about being bald since you never were fucked anyways. Who cared, because you didn’t? Men were never the object to attract, if they didn’t like what you had, then they don’t deserve what you can offer.

He drops your underwear, helping you step out of them and you can only see his eyes as he stares at your pussy, eyeline with your bottom half. He observes you, refreshens you.

“A real true, beautiful fuckin woman baby.” He slurs, “This fucking pussy is perfect… look at ya.” His hands wander your lower abdomen, following up to your boobs again. You picture his hair, the exact shade of brown to remember. Your favorite color, the ruffles on his scalp. He could’ve never guessed about your memory, but this would be with you forever.

“Can I taste?” He asks.

You nod again, he shoves his tongue into you, licking a long wide stripe on your pussy lips, lingering to gather your slick. He takes a second to soak it in.

“And that was all for me darlin? I’m a fucking lucky man.” He growls.

He shoves his tongue back inside you, moaning at the sensation of this. He’s eating you out and he’s okay with it? It feels so good you can’t control your arms, you grab onto his head, relishing in the newness of it all.

“Joel…what is this… why does it feel.. So… so fucking good?”

“Good.” He pops off from your cunt, “When it feels too good pull harder.”

He instantly shoves his face again in your cunt, lapping at your pussy. The more he sucks on you, inside and out, the more liquid keeps oozing outside of you. Your stomach almost giving out from the heat your body is radiating.

“So fucking wet, so sweet, sweetest thing alive. Crafted just f’me.” He mutters into you. “You’re just human to me, the most perfect one alive.”

You’re practically moaning uncontrollably, his words mixed with his devil tongue has the world crashing down on you, the world from below able to slightly see him tongue fucking you into oblivion.

“Can I touch you..” He pulls his hand to your nub, exactly where you would rub. Another place you’ve had to show a man, never knowing the exact pressure point that would make you scream. “Here?”

“God… how did you… already feels…feels like… fire.”

He kisses your mound, moving slightly above your stomach, “Because… I’m quite older than you…” He kisses, “And I’ve learned….” His index finger lays on your clit, then fastens his pace drawing circles.

Never in your life has a man done this to you, never have you had this light of intimacy. As he circles your clit, he places his tongue back at your entrance. Your pussy is practically coaxing his tongue to breach you.

“Fuck!” You scream, tightening your hold on his hair, you can feel sweat accumulating between your back and the window.

“Louder, be fucking lounder.” He gasps for air.

“Joel… keep going please…. Pleaspleaspleas…” You mewl. And he switches to sucking your clit and shoving his fingers inside you. It was a new sensation, your gasps sound animalistic, begging for air to relieve your lungs. His fingers are reaching depths you haven’t felt in years. Being stimulated in two areas made your stomach fluctuate.

“You like that pretty girl, soaking my fingers, dripping all down my arm… look at you.” He mutters.

You look down, and see him. The glow of the moonlight reflecting on his sweaty hairline, the smile spread across Joel's face, the slightest of dimples. He’s bent on the floor to make sure you cum first, your back arched.

You could feel yourself leaking out on him and it made you give out, not able to stand anymore but his weight keeps you up.

Your atomic brain couldn’t keep up, couldn’t take enough mental shots, but you knew this would be with your forever. He kept going faster, and finally a peak was hit, eventually getting higher and higher until the mountain itself avalanches into beautiful boulders.

“I’m fucking cumming… fuck. Joel your fucking fingers!” You scream.

“See those eyes, pretty girl, cummin all over me like such a good girl, keep going.”

Eventually you had to slide down the window, Joel not able to keep up your dead weight. No atom in your body is able to process what happened.

“Joel…” You huff, “If that was… fuck… then how will I handle your-”

“We go slow, and build up to the pace of your liking.” He answers.

“I told you,” You breathe against his chest, “I don’t want slow. I want to be fucked.”

He looks into your eyes, he cups your pussy. Rubbing off the remnants of your orgasm. Extremely fresh.

“Then get on the fucking bed. Go.” He growls.

You do as you’re told. Excited with his change of tone. You lay back on the fresh bed, the sheets made and you spread your legs for him. You can hear your leaking pussy make a sound and he smirks.

He unties his dress shoes, throwing them into an abyss, unbuttons his dress pants. Leaving him in his boxers. This was the moment.

He pulls his hands at the hem, and you choke on your breath.

He drops them, and fuck. At least 7 inches drops in weight. You could feel him the entire time, but fuck he was wide. He was hairy too. His whole body made you feel comfortable. His veins. His beading tip with pre-cum. His cock was your most prized possession at this moment. Your eyes already felt heavy, you knew his cock would reach a world inside you, that no one could explain.

“Like what you see, smart girl?”

“Do I like what I see?” You repeat.

“Yeah, I see those eyes. Remembering everything. Analyzing. Very, very smart girl. You don’t have to tell me now, but you’re something.”

“So you know?” You whisper. He comes closer to you, fitting himself between your legs.

“Knew once you won the game, I watched your eyes. Invents math. Too smart for your own good. That head of yours is gonna kill me darlin.” He grabs his dick, tapping it on your clit. You seethe through your teeth, then he slides his cock down to your lips. Teasing you, but not giving in just yet.

“You don't know anything about me Joel.” You tease.

“I know enough, pretty girl.” He grunts. He leaves you, a cold draft hitting your lips. He rumages for a condom in his wallet.

“Always this prepared?” You nod your head.

“Wouldn’t be smart to cum in this sweet pussy the first night now would it?”

“Maybe… maybe not.” You drag.

He chuckles, slipping the condom onto himself. He’s purely oozing pre-cum. You wish you could lick it all up, drink every last drop of him. Watching every move, he comes closer to you rubbing his ick at your entrance again and slipping himself inside you, hefting his big thumb to your clit, rubbing your nub into insanity.

“Gonna cum on my cock baby? Gonna get cock crazy? Get obsessed with my fillin you up? Fuckin tell me how it feels.”

He reaches the end of you and pulls out, stretching to the brink of space in your cunt. He was so big you thought he wouldn’t fit. Then he goes over and over again, hitting you at a different angle every time.

“Joel, you’re… so fuckin…. Feels so good.” You squeal. “Biggest cock I’ve ever felt.”

“Fuckkk baby girl, pussy so warm. Gonna kill me.” He groans. His weight on top of you felt heart shattering, he leaned down to kiss you, his mustache still wet from eating you out alive.

You cry, the pressure of his dick so new, your stomach completely full. “It’s fuckin your cock now.”

You mewl, your cock. Yours. “Faster Joel… fuck my pussy, ruin me.” You plead. The faster he goes, the better your pussy will bottom out. He rubs your clit faster, his hand feeling like the sentence of god.

“I saw you across the casino, and instantly knew.” He thrusts, placing his hands on your nipples. Pinching them harder, “Magnetized to you. Such a fuckin pretty girl, knowin how to win poker.”

“And when I won?” You groan, peering into his hooded eyes. You place your hands on top of his knuckles. “Did that turn you on?”

“When you won,” He slows, “I fell in love sweetheart.” He cusps your dropped jaw with a deep kiss and he quickens. Your legs wrap around his back and he fucks into again, and again.

You scream at his pace, unable to reprimand his cock dividing you into two. He hits a spot, a spongy spot inside you.

“Joel… fuckfucfuck I’m gonna cum Joel… it’s too much!” You scream.

Immediately he pulls out and unwraps your legs, flipping you over on all fours and pussy sprayed out for him clear as day. He fucks into you again, doggy style. He pushes his hand down on your back to make your stomach flat with the bed.

“Your pussy’s so pretty and open for me. My perfect girl. Whole life I’ve needed you.” He whimpers. You could feel his growing harder and harder inside of you, draining the life out of him.

You grab a hold of the sheets, your brain plummeting, “Just a Vegas pussy, just a… fuck.. A whore… for you Joel.” You cry.

“Not a Vegas whore y’hear?” He growls, “Could never be a fuckin whore… but this pussy will always be fuckin mine. Are we clear?”

You nod your head for him to know you understand, he grabs whatever his hands could hold, ass bouncing on his dick. His fingers slipped to your love handles, feeling your pussy lips sliding on and off him like a glove. His cock was fucking into you for an ecstasy you couldn’t fathom.

You never thought sex could feel this good with a man, but here you are… about to explode from Joel’s dick. You don’t care if he didn’t see you as a whore. You were beyond greatfil he saw you beyond that, but you would be his fucking Vegas whore a million times over.

“Gonna cum baby? Gonna cum if I play with your fuckin clit and fuck you?” He mewls.

He slithers his hand under you both, rubbing your clit, and that’s when it hits you. Not only the double stimulation, but being full and being played with killed your insides, you were tightening up and you couldn't tell how much longer you could last, for real this time. You were always oozing, and globs of liquid were flowing out of you.

“Joel… my stomach…I’m gonna pee.” You wail, but he doesn’t stop, he’s not scared to see what comes outside of you.

“C’mon pretty girl give it to me… show me how good I make you feel. Make it fuckin rain.” He slams harder.

“Mmhm Joel… I can’t… fuck..”

In almost a miracle you had time to pull off of him and let a stream fall from your cunt, exploding of water onto the bed and all over his stomach, he bent down to drink it. He collected it in his mouth, then spit it back at your pussy, continuing to lick you off. You were so tired, moaning like a tired athlete, screaming to get your breath back.

“If you do that again… you’ll kill me Joel.” You crouch on the bed like a cockroach. He moans in confirmation to your pussy, squirming from the aftershocks and his soft tongue… licking you to normalcy. Cleaning what’s his. He peers up your back to kiss you, laying on top, finding his way to your lips.

“Have you ever done that before?” He asks.

“No, I can’t describe it but it felt like I couldn’t control it. My stomach was imploding on itself. I’m sorry I got you wet” You whisper.

He kisses your neck, “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve seen, and I did that to you? I would watch you soak my cock over and over again if I could… takes a lot of power from what I can tell.” He says.

“I know,” You wriggle your ass, “I told you… I like it fuckin rough and fast, and here you are. Giving me exactly what I want.” You could feel his covered cock laying on your back, still hard.

“What about you, we didn’t-”

“Shhh baby girl.. Tonight wasn’t about me… this was your prize for winning.” He chuckles. “For that brain of your’s for being so smart.”

“Fuck Joel.” You shiver, “Don’t let it end.”

--------

9:46

You wake up, looking at the slide cock, you were still in his bed, he was getting dressed again. When he sees you’re awake he rushes to you, giving a kiss.

“When you fell asleep, I booked your ticket. Hope you’re still okay with that.”

Now you’re fully awake, reliving the whole night and realizing what you’ve committed to. Not only a commitment but something you’ve been searching for your entire life, a man that has made you feel more than what it’s like to be a woman in the 80’s. Last night, you were his equal. He cared after you, cared more about you feeling the interlinked connection of your orgasm than his. His words coaxing your orgasm first. He was the only man you needed.

“Do you have any clothes I could possibly wear for the flight?” You smile, looking into his honey abyss.

“I’ll call my assistant and have a closet ready for you when we get there.” He replies.

You scurry from the bedsheets, letting the duvet fall from your tits.

“Well Joel… then New York, here we come.” And he captured your lips, not only that but your heart and life in a sum of 12 hours.

——

so i don’t know how to play poker, tried my best to watch video and figure out basic logistics of a game but like this royal flush would probably be one a mil to get, but it’s a one shot so like…… this is the longest thing i’ve written and i’m pretty fuckin proud of it. BE LOUD TELL ALL THOUGHTS!! love you all🎀🎀

barbenheimer weekend was amazing. i’ve seen them both 3 times in theatres. worth every damn penny.

[deareststars]

Did you get a request? It's General relationship hcs for Cyrus, Drayden, Grimsley, Colress with gn s/o. Thanks!

yes i just received it! i will say that this short of a turn-around is very rare; anyone requesting should expect about a day or two, i just happen to have a LOT of free time rn lol!

also, bc this ended up being much longer than i anticipated, i'm splittng this up into 2 parts. so expect grimsley & colress to come out within the next day or so! thank you so much for requesting :)

characters: cyrus (gen iv), drayden (gen v).

content: gn reader, established relationship, mostly feel-good stuff w/ a little angst in cyrus' hcs. reader is an antagonist in cyrus' hcs, & an elite 4 member in drayden's.

tw: none.

CYRUS

you grew up with him in sunyshore. i imagine this timeline's cyrus is softer, if only because you were there with him through everything the rejection of his peers, the rejection of his parents—they all hurt less when you were there to pick up the pieces.

he's brilliant with technology. if you ever ask him for anything, even as a playful request, he'll try his best to make it happen.

he doesn't understand emotions, but he knows what they mean. so when you come to him, crying or upset about something that happened, he tries his best to comfort you.

you storm into cyrus' office, still battered from your battle with that annoying "hero" from twinleaf. "i thought i was stronger!" you rant. cyrus silently wheels himself out from behind his desk, and opens his arms. you fall into them, letting all of your frustrations out. you stop when he starts patting your head roughly. you shake his hand off. "what are you doing?" he doesn't blush easily, but he's coming close to it. "mars said that people like to be comforted this way," he says. despite your anger, you laugh. "not like you're trying to comfort a growlithe," you tease. he avoids your gaze as his face grows pink.

cyrus also tries his best to express his love for you in physical actions. he's comfortable with movement, not with words. he always has a hand on you—on your thigh when you're sitting next to each other, against your waist that day at the spear pillar.

when he's taken by giratina to the distortion world, he doesn't expect you to follow him, but you do anyway. he tries his best to convince you to go back with them, since he wants you to experience the world, but you refuse.

"leave me here!" cyrus yells, the first expression of intense emotion you've heard in a long time. "you don't deserve to be left here! there's so much to see!" you shake your head, still holding onto him. the hero and cynthia stare at you, wordless, and you know that you may seem stubborn. but you can't leave him behind. cyrus seems to know this. you feel his breath hitch with an aborted sob, and look up, surprised to see tears filling his eyes. even he is shocked, as he frees a hand to wipe furiously at them. "why?" he asks, his voice choked. "the world i desire is the world that makes you happy," you reply. "we'll be together until the very end." with that, the hero and cynthia reluctantly let the two of you go. you know you'll likely never see the real world again, but as cyrus tightens his grip around your waist, you know that this was worth every moment.

DRAYDEN

you meet drayden through the pokemon league. he's not the best with expressing his feelings (as an older man, he's basically a stone wall) so it's hard to tell when he's crushing on someone and when he simply finds them to be a good friend.

and then he shows up to your door, having memorized all of your favorite sweets, hobbies, and books, and gives you a thoughtful gift to express his affection.

when i tell you that this man is a gentleman, i mean he is the epitome of one. picking you up at your house for dates? check. making sure you don't touch a single door? check. elbow held out every time you go into the world? check.

"drayden, is this really necessary?" you ask. he stands in front of you, hand held out with a pokemon league car behind him. he promised to take you out to the most wonderful restaurant opelucid city has to offer, but you didn't think that he was serious. his face remains passive, but he still tilts his head to the side like a confused lillipup. "of course. is it so bad to treat my partner like the royalty they are?"

expect training every single day, both for you and your pokemon. drayden wants you to be the best version of yourself, and while he doesn't subject you to his (alleged) 10,000 push-ups, sit-ups, and squats a day, he still makes sure you eat healthy and push yourself & your pokemon to your limit.

when you lose, drayden is there to help you figure out what went wrong. he's got a lot of advice to give, so no matter what difficulties you go through, he always has something to tell you that makes things seem at least a little better.

he's big on acts of service. there's the obvious door holding and making sure you take care of yourself. but he also does the simplest things, like making you cups of hot tea when league work has you stressed, or cooking you dinner when you come home. this only intensifies when team plasma comes into play.

"i can take care of myself!" you exclaim. drayden stands in front of you, barring the way out from the gym. behind him, you can see the plasma frigate moving overhead, bathing opelucid city in subzero temperatures. he shakes his head. "i know you can. but i cannot take care of myself unless i know that you are safe." "i can't just stand here and watch as people destroy the city i love!" with a final show of strength, you manage to make it past him, and he reluctantly follows you into the city. still, you're sure you're not imagining the way he seems to put haxorous directly in front of you, putting you out of the line of fire.

[curio-queries]

Run BTS: 067 | BTS in a Manga Cafe part 2

Original Air Date: 12 MAR 2019 Episode Length: 29:32 Total Parts: 2 YouTube English Subtitles: No Title Song: Idol

Synopsis: Continuing the previous episode with more minigames at the manga cafe

Production: These games were more enjoyable for me. i always love seeing the guys guess eachothers drawings, and this was nice having them collaborate. The hidden book game was neat, but they really need to stop trying to incorporate lie detectors in these kinds of shows. It just causes more confusion cuz the tech doesn't actually exist.

Endearment: The guys are all perked up now that they're getting some snacks. JK stands out particularly to me this episode.

Winner: BTS

Loser: Staff

Best Cheater: Hobi, writing words in the drawing game. then Jimin calls him out as the one that clarified that point when the rules were explained, nice edit. Then he does it again! 😆

Member Moments:

RM: Poor RMs absent minded-ness picking up the book when the drinks come.

JN: Jin, the master of a well-placed question mark

YG: Yoongi definitely went on far more than he would have if he wasn't 'it' during the hidden book game.

JH: Hobi not giving into JK's trolling and succedding at the ramen game!

JM: JM having a laugh attack during the ramen game.

V: V was a great choice for the first round of the hidden book game. when everyone's figuring out how to game the game, he just gets away with it.

JK: I looove how frustrated JK gets when the members mess up his drawing.

Bonus Content: There was so much content after they finished the episode! it's adorable, and i love it but I'm so confused why they were still filming...?

CQ Rank: 4

(CQ Eval Date: 12 MAY 2024)

Check out this post for my Masterlist of all episodes and descriptions of how I'm evaluating these.

Previous Episode: 066

Next Episode: 068

[heartofhubris-a]

Hello, as you are the top Harding blog...any HC you'd like to share? No problem if not, but a "hardy" congratulations anyway 👏

Ahhh thank you!! I've got a couple small ones, but as always, these are my own personal HCs!

He's a closed toed crocs truther. Originally, Harding swore by clogs that most doctors used, but it only took one time in the foam for him to realize that he was wrong on insisting on just the wood ones. He likes them well enough, but the comfort made the last 30 minuets of the surgery (closing up) a breeze. Plus cleaning and care are much easier.

Sex positive ace. He's a sexual through and through and never through anything of it because he's biromantic.... if he was introduced throughly to those terms. But, he's got Mar, and he really doesn't care if people are sexually attractive, since he wouldn't go after them anyway.

Low support autistic - type a or autistic, idc. He's so strict on the rules, so through on his reads and memories, his routines. Harding excels in social situations, meaning he never cared to think if he was autistic or not. The way he was was idealized in his field and family, so he simply thought himself playing his role - quite happily at that

One day post s1, Harding says something untold to Sung infront of Fran and within 30 seconds she swooped him away and was just "Harding!! Why??" Leading to his confusion, dismissal of Fran, and moving on. Until he mentioned it to Martha and she kind of hesitated, Harding asked why. Martha was slow to say "You do say racist things, dear. I think you should take Fran up on the class." And he does and though he never apologized to Sung, he does end up treating Sung much more like he does in the book - with some respect.

The only way Harding asks for support is in the middle of the night when he can't sleep and he slides into his partners arm. In the daylight, the best he would do is a tight squeeze of hand, and his smile only slightly more genuine.

He started the embroidered lab coats. He was made fun of for 3 months for the idea. Patients loved them. Hardijg once again pointed out the sanitary cost and the customization costs being roughly equal anyway. The lab coat became a right of passage. (He still has his first attempts)

If Harding really likes someone, he won't bring them to the bar or get to know them. He won't have lunch/dinner. He won't go to a Cafe. If he really wants to offer his emotions to someone, if he wants to really invite them close, he brings them to a park. If they're distracted by the bird calls naturally, he invites them into birding. If he has to invite them and they're excited, they're instructed on good sites and books. If they're dismissive, Harding doesn't treat them negatively, but he's certainly judged them harsher l.

He will openly and willingly teach anyone anything they'd like to know - providing they show humility. If they refuse to relinquish their pride, he will ensure they are treated to the highest of his standards.

What's modern media? Aka Harding just. Doesn't care to watch TV and media; he will watch instructional videos and he is not illiterate on technology, but don't ask him to summarize the most recent (Harding checks notes.) Game of thrones? Wait that's been off air for how many years?

When Harding was a young man, he had a very close friend. They'd been friends for nearing a decade when Harding was told suddenly by his wife the unthinkable. Due to stress at work and his life, he had taken his own life. Harding couldn't attend the funeral, but he did send the widow enough money from his funds to pay for the funeral and her own life for the year after his pension ran dry. To this day, Martha and he travel to see her and their children every year in that very month, as well as both deciding to send gifts for his three sons, and Christmas cards.

Martha was infertile. Harding, for his own merit, didn't have good faith in his own ability. When Martha told him her state, he laughed on accident, before very quickly explaining why. She was extatic, but they refused to foster as his job was too severe, and her career was too important to her.

Harding (book moreso) doesn't particularly care for alcohol. TV Harding isn't a huge fan but he likes to relax due to the first shot or two, but doesn't like how he feels after that.

Medical Marijuana? He's fucking THERE FOR IT.

Speaking of: harm reduction entered his vocabulary once and never left. Harding never wants someone to turn to drugs to dealjust with life, but fuck. Harding is going to encourage every damn oppuritinty to get someone better. He will encourage you if you succeed, and be extremely firm, though not hurtful, if you fail. He'd be there to remind someone of sobriety.

"A couple small ones" I claimed.

I'm sooooo in love with him

[enchanted1waters]

you owe me pt 2

Nikki SIXX x FEM reader

Mars, lee, Neil, and SIXX were all man whores sure, but when it came to partying or a dare. It didn't matter what it was. They don't back out of shit. That. That is what makes them tick. And that's why I found myself in a circle, Tommy winning the battle to sit next to me as Trace spun the bottle landing on Mick, Mick immediately threw back his drink.

"Alright you sexy freak, truth or dare." He whispered with the guys. "Truth golden mouth." He said as he made his way through his 2nd bottle for the night, clearly fucked up. Trace giggled, "who was better me or beck?" Beck nudged her in the side as I took a cigarette out of my pocket and flicked my lighter, "Shit." I muttered as the cig rested between my plump lips. In frustration I laid back, resting my head on Tommy's leg one over the other. This for some reason felt natural. Not uncomfortable, so I didn't move. Shortly after tommy realized I needed a lighter, he nodded and brought out his, painted with different little doodles.

"I gotcha viper." He said with a charming warm smile. It was nice. It was genuine. He lit the cig in my lips, holding each other's gaze. Something also igniting south. Yet as soon as the moment started it was over as I heard the group laughing, tuning back in to hear what sounded like a cry for help as Mars was being attacked by The girls. "Look I'm sorry it's just, I enjoy head a hell of a lot, and I fucking love tits. Put those together you get Trace. Sorry Beck. You have a sweet ass though." He said sipping and cackling with the boys and I.

The bottle then was spun by Mars to Vince. Vince combed back his blonde locks. "yes prince of darkness?" He said with a flirtatious smile. Mick seemed to be thinking after Vince answered he wanted a dare. This then led to Vince running down the street butt ass naked. Eventually 5 minutes sitting back down with us as he didn't even bother to put his jacket back on nor pull his pants up past his v-line. The dramatic Himbo noticing my look as he winked. I quickly rolled my eyes as Vince spun the bottle landing on Tommy.

Their eyes going dark after Tommy said, "you know me Vinnie, I love me a good a dare." Nikki and him exchanging a wicked smile as they seemed to remember a mischievous story. Before they could elaborate Vince spoke as he snapped his fingers. "T-bone. If the lady is willing, why don't ya snort a line off the finest of the fine bass players's tits." Nikki seemed to be excited, jealous, and pitiful all at the same time as he looked at Tommy like he was infuriated by the fact it wasn't him.

I nodded, "not one to back down, gents." I said after Tommy made sure twice over that I was okay with it and me telling him shut up. That's when they were trying to figure out how I should lay in order for this to work. Before they could come up with some stupid fail prone plan, I lifted myself to straddle Tommy's lap. His eyes went big as he swallowed harshly before smiling back at the group while raising his eyebrows suggestively.

I scoff, "Yeah sorry to break it to ya drummer, but unless you plan on sniffing drywall dust, I suggest you put your hands on my hips and get one your fine druggie friends to hook ya up with this once in a life time chance." He tilted his head up at me with an eyebrow raised and a mischievous look, "You so sure this will be the last time you're straddling me?" I gripped his hair as I rolled my eyes, trying not to smile, causing a groan from him. Mick and Vince shaking their head, "Woah now you kinky fuckers, we asked you for a dare, not a porno." Vince said before quickly retracting his statement, "with Tommy at least." We all laughed at his not so subtle flirting.

Nikki still sits, pouting in anger. I look over at him, "Snow king, mind pouring your terror twin here a line on my tits." And with that he immediately bounced back with just the eye contact and attention from I.

"My pleasure, sugar." Tommy looked at Nikki. "That's a new one hmm? Terror twins. I kinda love it." They agreed, laughed, and shook hands on the nickname. That's when wetness and filthy thought began to fill my body as I could feel Tommy's and Nikki's eyes on me. Sitting in Tommy's lap, Nikki's minty yet smokey scent as he concentrated on pouring a perfect line as I leaned back. Exposing more chest. He smirked, "I feel like this isn't your first time." I laughed, "for which thing?' I smirked.

Nikki and Tommy started exchanging a glare. Something I couldn't quite understand from my point of view. "Now I know we all enjoy me looking like a bitch in heat, but I'm getting bored of trying to keep still with about 500 bucks of product on my chest." They laughed and suddenly I could see Tommy's eyes darken. His right large hand gripping around my waist to arch my back farther, as his left helped consume the line. I kept my face bored looking, making sure no one knew I enjoyed this.

When he finished the crowd cheered, but as I tried to get up I was held back down. Jolted back into Tommy's now hardening lap. I bit back a moan at the feeling. Still stubborn as ever. That's when Nikki furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms as Tommy. "T-bone, I think you missed a spot." He pointed, Tommy acting completely dumb to his plan. "Where?" Nikki's finger started to move in a circle, "yeah just like all around there, you basically blew it everywhere. You can't just be wasteful like that, tom." He tsked as he shook his head. "Guess I'm just gonna have to clean up your mess." Nikkis face immediately dropping into a devilish smirk as he fastly gripped his large, callused hand around my throat slightly applying pressure as his tongue darted out from my cleavage, licking a long unforgettable, wet, arousing stripe to my jaw.

Tommy, Vince, Mars, and about 100 more people screaming at the sight with holy shits, damn gotta readjust, Jesus Christ and more. Which all seemed I go silent as I felt my nerves melt and burn, urning for more. Before I knew it, I left the game and pushed through the crowd to get a drink. Throwing it back easily, trying to cool the hot growing pool in my stomach. This didn't stop Tommy and Nikki. I felt both on either side of me.

"What's the matter sweetheart, no one ever treated something so sweet with a savory taste?" Tommy said as Nikki placed his hand on the counter, "I just couldn't help my self Tommy. Something so sweet begging to be tasted like a fresh lollipop. Needing me lick it clean until it melts under my touch." My knees bucked on the filthy from their words. If it wasn't for what I've been told, I would've thought you could read like an open book, showing how flustered I was. Yet I looked completely calm, just a little heavy breathing.

Tommy looked at Nikki, "I think our sweet treat is surprised by how much she liked being tasted by both terror twins." Nikki almost growled at the thought. "Mmm that true sugar? Sounds to me like this sugar could rot out teeth out. Not as sweet and innocent as we thought if she likes two devils on her at once."

At that I mustered up the last of self control, turning around to face the two demons themselves. With an eyebrow raised, I scoffed, "As if I'd let two naughty boys get a sugary reward for being naughty. That's just not how it works now does it, boys?" I then took a swig of the jack Daniels had in his hand while making eye contact between both, switching as I dragged my thumb on the side of my mouth to clean the left over liquid. I smiled, Nikki and Tommy looking like they could devour me at any moment, both pushing me back against the counter. "I think we got ourselves a teasing little piece here, hmm Tom?" Tommy instantly gazing on my lips as he thought of all the dirty ways he could use 'em.

I smirked, "How disappointing that must be for two boys, who always get whoever they want. Gonna leave 'em hard and a mess. Nothing to but jack to the thought of this moment before I left" I said as I took both boys in my hand, palming both hards with an innocent yet clearly guilty smirk. Watching as their breath hitched and their dominance left their bodies. Before they could even try grinding into my hands, I let go and pushed past them both, "how inconvenient.". I said before walking past Vince now making out with Becca.

*the boys pov*

it had been a full TWO DAYS, Tom and Nik were dying. Tommy sitting at his drums not being able to think of a single thing other than her lips. Nikki trying to fuck any girls with red fingernails like she did that night. No matter how many times and who they fucked. She was the only one thing on their mind. Vince growing annoyed as he was pissed at how no one could get their hands on her. Therefore no one winning the bet. Mick now dating Trace, as he was about to leave for the door, suddenly found Vince Infront of the door preventing him to leave, Tommy grabbing onto his leg and Nikki on his knees begging him in mumbles.

"Get THE FUCK OFF OF ME, YA ANIMALS. GONNA MAKE ME LATE FOR MY DATE." He grumpily said to the boys, trying to kick the grown man off his leg while pushing the other out of his way. Then not budging. "Fine. Hurry up, what the hell do you want!?!"

They all smirked, "address, number, friends number, company number or address, ANYTHING MICK WERE BEGGING!" Mick's face twisted in confusion before nursing out laughing. "What kind of fucking spell did she put on you guys!?! You guys are whipped." They all immediately rolling their eyes, "am not." They all said standing up and crossing their arms. Mick shrugged, "guess that means I'll be going now." Quickly changing their mind they admitted, "she's all we can think about man, one track mind, no song, no song, no money, no money, no house-" before Nikki could finish his rant Mick sighed, "OKAY OKAY SHUT UP. But if you tell either of those girls I gave you this. I'll kill you, cold blood. Eat your brain." Tommy quickly grabbed the man and hugged him, picking him up. "PUT ME DOWN.

*3 days later*

My legs crossed, hair down, everything on my body curved to grunge, messy perfection for the current interview I was in. Trace on my right, Becca on my right. The questions rolled, answers easy. "Yeah, I met Becks in highschool as well as Trace. Yet Beck was trying to set up her drum for band class and some asshole, oops sorry. Can I say that?" I said with a smile causing everyone else in the room to silence and laugh, "yeah, don't worry about it. You're literally Scarlett Viper, we'll bleep it." I nodded and laughed as I pinched the bridge of my nose, "shit, what was I saying.. OH YES, okay so I'm walking down to the football field, I see this girl with drum that usually sits, ya know strapped to your shoulders, and it just breaks and starts rolling down this hill. I mean, SPEEDING down this hill." We all start laughing causing the interviewer to as well. "So I take off booking it, trying to chase after it with this random girl I just saw lose her drum like dog. We look like were chasing a chicken anyways it finally stops except it stopped because it hurled into this just MEAN as hell cheerleader. She starts yelling, and calling this poor girl." I say gesturing to Becks.

"All these different names, and at first it made me a little mad. I mean we can all guess where this is headed since I am known for my aggression. Whoops anyways, back to the story. This preppy bitch PUSHES her, so her head ended up... through... the drum." The interviewer bursts out laughing at the dwindling confidence in my words as I finished the story.

Eventually the interview is near a end when the interviewer asks about something new. "Now for the real stuff, you've heard of the new upcoming raunchy band, mòtley çrué correct?" I nod and smile, trying to not let it seem obvious I fucked with them at a party less than a week ago. "Yeah, great band, I actually had to replace my bass recently because of our introduction." causing my band and I burst out laughing. "Well some fans are starting to make ship names for you two because of how much the fans love how aggressive, sexy and good Nikki SIXX and you are at Bass, and even shipping your guitarist and drummers together. Some making little stories about love triangles wth the singer, you and just overall creating little shipping stories about you guys. Now that you guys are booming."

in this moment time slowed, I would never be theone to tell my friend's business when it wasn't public. Mick and Trace had just recently started up, perfering to build something concrete before exposing it to the public. So I new I had to divert the attention, nodding I smirked, "Yeah, let's just say Fangs and all, and motley Crue have been at the same party before. We run in the same circles, it's hard not to meet each other. But overall I think they're gonna stay in the top circles. They have great potential."

After the interview, we were escorted back to the studio to a meeting our manager, Kate had arranged. As we walked through the grand entrance, I shouted. "Honey I'm homeeee, KATEEYYYY BUGGGG!!" Causing Trace and Beck to chuckle. "Were in here!" I heard Kate's voice.

I looked at the girls, "were?" I pushed the double doors in to see Kate clicking off the TV with our interview on it, "Well done, great job avoiding leaking anything, now this is Doc McGhee." Kate was a late 40 year old white woman, who wore white pants suits and spray painted gay rights onto a side of a church after getting told pants suits were for dykes. She was pro gay before it was cool, pro blm before it came together, and had managed drag stars. She worked with David Bowie which had caught my eye by being ahead of her time. Before Doc could introduce himself, I nodded, "I know who you are, you worked for bon jovi, kiss and fucking guns n' roses. Which by the way, let slash know I said hi." I said with a smirk.

He chuckled before nodding, "Ladies if you'd take a seat, we have an opportunity for you ladies as well as some people for you to meet." Kate said with that look I saw everytime before she presented me with a solution or brilliant plan. I trusted that woman with my life, would've called her mom in the place of my absent one if I had met her earlier.

Suddenly we heard a scream down the hall, Doc automatically running his hand over his face, dragging his wrinkled eyes down to his his mouth. "God damnit." He said switching from charismatic manager, to dead beat dad. That's when the door busted open to reveal Vince, Tommy, and Nikki. All looking like they had just broken a lamp and we're trying to act innocent to their mom. "Wow guys, this...isn't the...bathroom?" Nikki said their hands behind the backs, as Nikki's voice got more suspicious by the minute. "Guess we better go find IT! Nikki said before they started to book it. "DONT MOVE A MUSCLE." Doc yelled, commanding them like sons. "What the hell did you three do, where's mick!?!.

They looked at each other, Tommy finally being the first one to notice us and smiled. "Oh, ya know Mickkkk always doing something. Maybe he's knitting, ya know he's getting around that age-" the boys were suddenly cut off by Mick with black soot on his face appearing behind them. "Jesus Mick did ya try to find Santa early this year?" Vince said causing Tommy and Nikki to cover their mouths to try to prevent them bursting out. "ARGHHH IM GONNA KILL YOU!" Mick said before charging the blonde, Nikki jumping into Tommy's hands like a baby as their eyes lit up at the chaos. Mick choking Vince out on the meeting table. Doc yelling and rushing over to the other side of the room, breaking up the boys. "YOU BASTARDS DONE!? Fuck. Try to have a professional meeting and you dickheads do...what exactly did you do?" Nikki raised his hand with a smirk, "set off fireworks in his room while he was sleeping. Quite the show." Doc's eyes widened as he started to profusely apologize to Kate and us.

As I tuned out Kate and Doc's apology, I met eyes with Tommy and Nikki, Nikki immediately jumping out of Tommy's hold. Before shuffling to lean his hand on the door frame, attempting to be seductive, my eyes going between him and Tommy. Tommy trying not to burst out laughing. As my mind finally wrapped around the chaos of the last 5 minutes, Vince just now touching his neck. "You prick, chicks don't dig my having a hand print around my neck. Gonna think I'm getting my shit dom'd by some guy with a thong."

Mick wiped his soot covered face, "Not like you don't already have that look to ya with or without the mark." The terror twins immediately CACKLED.

"He's right Vinnie, that doesn't change anything I've had two guys ask for your number, plus you always have hickeys on you." I said with a smirk, as I crossed my heeled legs on the table. Vinnie flipped his hair with sass, "I don't blame them." He said smiling. When everyone had sat, cleaned, and calmed down we started to discuss why they were here.

Doc started, "My boys here have created a few new songs for their new album called 'Girls, Girls, Girls'. You guys have been extremely big for a while, Scarlett you being known for your poisonous bite, skilled bass playing and killer voice. Although our boys other than Mick have been stupid enough not to listen to your songs apparently, excuse me for one second to explain to them." Doc turns to them. "You know Cassandra Wong from Wayne's world?" Their eyes shot open, "HELLLLLL YEAH. Total babe with a hot ass killer voice?" Tommy said as the rest of them leaned in. "That's not her voice, Scarlett here voiced over. That's what got her so big so quick." I rolled my eyes at the total awe in their eyes. " It's not a big deal, although I appreciate the flattery, where's this going Doc?" I asked.

"My boys are creating a couple music videos for the songs. We've seen you ladies get aggressive, hot, seductive, killer, and let's just say. You're perfect for the part. Would you guys care to be main roles for our album's videos?"

I looked at my girls, I knew Trace would love to, Becc always a free person. Down for most things. I looked forward and in the boy's eyes, I could tell this was planned. Self control was gonna be really hard I knew that, I couldn't let anything distract my band from being top in bad ass female history in the music industry.

so I kicked down my feet and ran my hand through my hair, pulling out a cig and lighting it. I felt the tension grow thicker. Inhaling deeply and letting out a cloud of smoke, I stood up and put my clawed hand out. "You've got yourself a deal, Doc."

[lgcjaesun]

legacy café performance

set list: 

introduction mc

lonely - kino

gotta go - chungha ( dance cover )

midway mc

someone you loved - lewis capaldi

24k magic - bruno mars ( dance cover )

i like me better - lauv

ending mc

jaesun loves the idea of the legacy café performance and is excited that he is actually able to take part in hosting his own performance this time around. honestly, with how crazy things had been, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the company told him that he had to sit out this time around, so getting the okay from them meant that he was going to take advantage of the opportunity.

of course, it doesn’t come easily. he spends small pockets of what little free time he has to put together the performance, and if he had to be honest, by the time the performance rolls around, he almost wonders if he should have thought twice about taking part. just maybe he wants to do too much when he should also be aware of just how much energy he has ( and his health as a whole ).

plus, his indecisiveness doesn’t help. how is he supposed to only pick out five songs out of a repertoire of great music? he had also considered doing a song with piano, but in the end, he cuts out that idea. he’s a good pianist, but he’s not that good, meaning that it won’t be that easy for him to learn something and feel confident about it. maybe that’s something he can work towards the next time around, but for this time? he’ll have to think up some other ideas.

thankfully, with some input from friends and family, he finally puts together his first setlist. while he isn’t entirely sure if he would think is the perfect setlist, he thinks it at least shows a wide range in terms of genre and style.

when the time comes for him to step onto the stage, he excitedly waves and when reaching the center of the stage where his seat awaits him, he first bows and after he stands up straight, introduces himself. “hello! how is everyone doing today? as you might know, or maybe you don’t know,” he laughs, “i’m v&a’s ahn jaesun, or aj. it’s so nice to see you all here today. mmm ...” he pauses for a moment as he looks around at the audience. “i’ve put together a list of performances today that i hope you will enjoy. i wanted to show different sides of me and so you’ll get some singing and some dancing. and of course, i appreciate any feedback so if there’s anything you’d like to share once it’s over, let me know so i can make this better for next time, hm? alright, are we ready to get started?” 

“so for the first two performances, i’ll be singing a song called lonely. although the song is addressed to a girl, i like to think that it’s a song for my fans as well. you’ll see what i mean once you hear it. and then, true to myself, i had to pick out a cover of chungha sunbaenim’s ‘gotta go’. i don’t remember if i’ve already done it before, and well, even if i have, i’m sure not every single one of you have seen it or if you have, you’ll be excited to see it again, hm?” he flashes a grin and then takes a quick bow before he gets ready to start the first song.

the first two songs go by quickly and he’s given a break to catch his breath and say a few more words to the audience. “what did you all think?” he finally asks animatedly after he takes a drink of water. he tries not to show that he’s breathing heavily after the dance performance, but it can’t really be helped. he is human, after all. “it’s been a crazy last few years, finally making my debut. it’s really been unlike anything else even better than i imagined.” he tells the audience. “i just want to thank you all for continuing to support me as well as v&a. actually, all of legacy, hm? thank you for keeping us employed,” he jokes. “no, but really, it is such a joy to see all of you every time. we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t love this.” he grabs a towel and dabs lightly near his hairline.

"so we have three more songs together. i guess this is where my LA side comes back. i don’t know how it ended up all being english songs for this second half, but somehow it ended up that way. i hope you will enjoy it as well.”

shouts of excitement fill the room which hypes jaesun up even more. he has always thrived off audience energy, after all. the performance really ends all too quickly, and though he is tired, he’s happy. it’s the boost of energy that he always seems to get after a performance. “were the songs okay?” he asks the audience. “i know my time is almost up so i won’t talk too much more now. like the last song said, i like me better when i’m with you. that’s for all of you. thank you for spending this time with me. i always love performing for all of you and hope i get to for a long time to come.” he bows deeply and smiles brightly as he straightens up. “thank you again and get home safely! please take care of yourselves!” he blows a kiss to the audience before stepping off the stage.

[annaberunoyume]

J'ai publié 1 172 fois en 2022

C'est 1 041 billets de plus qu'en 2021 !

199 billets créés (17%)

973 billets reblogués (83%)

Les blogs que j'ai le plus reblogués :

@unwelcome-ozian

@monsterbride99

@feltycartoons

@benjimatorarts

@the-clumsywitch

J'ai étiqueté 1 123 billets en 2022

Seulement 4% de mes billets ne comportaient pas de tag

#astrology - 153 billets

#spideypool - 64 billets

#art - 42 billets

#mob psycho 100 - 42 billets

#wlw - 40 billets

#lesbian - 38 billets

#youtube - 34 billets

#fanart - 33 billets

#wade wilson - 32 billets

#lgbtq - 31 billets

Tag le plus long : 110 caractères

#love the way u drew spidey n how we can definitely tell he isnt going to be looking away anytime soon ahahahah

Mes billets vedette en 2022 :

n°5

Ain't Nothing a little Emerald Dust won't cure! (Black Noir x Genderneutral!Reader)

Black Noir finds himself lost in thoughts and cannot fall asleep. You, as Emerald Dust, a supe that can make people fall asleep with fairy-like dust, helps him out.

****

Black Noir: (Fidjetting on his tatami.)

Y/N: (Sitting next to him.) Earving, you're okay?

Black Noir: (He writes something on his notebook.) I CAN'T STOP WORRYING ABOUT YOU

Y/N: Oh, dear. Why?

Black Noir: YOU ARE NOT AS STRONG AS THE OTHERS

Y/N: I know. But you taught me so well in fighting skills. And without me, the Seven would kill more. Seriously, what is it with Maeve and killing? A little dust of mine would usually do the trick. Also, I am slightly rising in points with the public. I guess you can call selling sleeping pills and herbal teas a good start. Hehe.

Black Noir: (He seems to silently laugh under his mask, then lowers his head.)

Y/N: …Earving? they touch his shoulder

Earving: (He turns around and looks at them…Then…He slowly removes his mask, revealing a pleading right eye. He scribbles a note.) PLEASE USE YOUR POWER ON ME

Y/N: Huh? You want me…to make you fall asleep?

Earving: (Nods more frantically. Then he sheds a tear and hugs them, nesting his face into their belly.)

Y/N: Alright. (stroking his hair and helping him lie down on their lap You're so beautiful. They smile with emotion, then slowly raises their hand above his face. A gentle, slow rain of turquoise dust slowly falls like a mist of rain on his eyes. Y/N takes special care in using their powers at a snail's pace to utterly soothe their sweet raven prince. They begin to sing.)

Go to sleep, the twilight's softly falling

Rest ye well

Beneath the evening star

Troubled hearts, find repose

'Neath the drowsy spell of night

Cares of day, drift away

As the sun sinks out of sight

Go to sleep…

Rest ye well…

Go to sleep…

Go to sleep…

Earving: (As they sing and hum to him, he finds himself slowly turning turquoise in colour, his little cartoon friends nestling in the nook of his arms. He sighs, smiling more and more drunkenly and looking up adoringly at Y/N. He yawns and nuzzles Y/N's belly.)

Y/N: (They smile lovingly and stroke his head, nuzzling his forehead and kissing it, smiling up to their eyes as he completely becomes darkly turquoise. Earving yawns again and smacks his lips together before snuggling his head into their belly more and drifting into a sweet, deep slumber. Rest ye well…) Go to sleep…

(Y/N kisses his head one last time, before shifting so that they are lying down, Earving's head on their stomach and Y/N's arm over his chest and Buster Beaver on top of it.)

THE END

Voir l'intégralité du billet

54 notes - publié le 23 septembre 2022

n°4

Charlie and Nick being too cute for their own good. Thank you, Alice Oseman, for bringing forth such a lovely, wholesome story!

59 notes - publié le 25 avril 2022

n°3

When your shadow self is glitching...

Gif found here: https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/511510470186651700/

77 notes - publié le 9 mars 2022

n°2

Lookin' at you, Juce, Spideypool and Symbrock. ;-)

Original video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-D50bjRjwHc

86 notes - publié le 17 mars 2022

Mon billet n°1 en 2022

Found this image on Pinterest. I kinda wish Venom would hold little insomniac me, right now. Just like this. Original art by Crowrelli.

363 notes - publié le 8 mars 2022

Obtenez votre année 2022 en revue sur Tumblr →

[ironmanroxx]

Steve Harrington smut. 18+ only

Sub Steve Harrington x Dom!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Extreme sexual content, choking

P in V sex, cunnilingus, oral sex (male and female receiving), praise kink, choking, light Dom/Sub, needy Steve, overuse of the term baby, protected sex, face sitting, hair pulling, edging

You were lounging out on Steve’s bed on a hot July day. School was out for the summer and you found yourself spending more and more time with him as the rest of your friends were still reeling over the events that had occurred during the school year. The steady bass of “I wanna be yours” pulses through the room. You’re sure that his parents would’ve yelled at him to turn it down if they were here. Letting out a breath, Steve sighed and pushed his hair back before flopping beside you onto the bed. “What’s up?” You scratch your fingers lightly through his soft hair and he leans into the touch like a cat. He’s surprisingly tactile, always brushing his hands against yours as you walk or placing a hand on your lower back to gently steer you whenever you’re at a party. You find his antics amusing, it’s such a contrast to how he’s with you. He’s more than happy to let you take the reins when you’re alone, but he’s always there to wrap an arm around your waist or lay his head on your stomach.

“Nothing, just bored I guess. Feels like we’ve been so busy with all of this crap going on that it’s weird that we can just relax and hang out like this. I feel like any moment now, I’m gonna have to jump up and run.” He looks over at you. You hum in agreement, “Yeah, but I think I know of a way that I could distract you, help you…relax”. He huffs out a laugh, “Nobody would believe me if I told them how insatiable you are.”, you roll your eyes. “Sure, I’m the one who’s insatiable. It’s not like you’re constantly pouncing on me whenever we’re alone.” you tease, tracing a finger down his arm. His eyes shoot to yours as you begin to lean closer. You get close enough that your breath ghosts his lips, “Let me distract you.” you murmur. Steve pushes forward, closing the distance between you two and gently pressing his lips to yours. You let him control the kiss for a moment before you take over, pressing your lips more insistently together. Your tongue swipes at his lower lip and he moans quietly, opening his mouth slightly and letting you in. You slide your tongue across his momentarily before pulling back. He leans forward, chasing after your lips. You more forward and begin pressing kisses onto his jaw before moving lower. You can feel his adam’s apple bob as he swallows, his breathing beginning to come out faster. Your mouth latches onto his neck, sucking lightly at first and then harder. He lets out a thready whine and tilts his head back, giving you more access. You smile against his neck at the display. You press one last lingering kiss before pulling back to admire your handiwork. He’s going to have to wear his collar a bit higher tomorrow to cover the dark marks that marred his skin. Your lips twist up in satisfaction at the thought. He’d never say it, but you can always tell that he walks with a little more confidence whenever he’s wearing your marks, hidden or not.

He helps you push his shirt up and over his head, finally unveiling his chest. You push him further down on the bed and throw your leg over his hip to fully seat yourself in his lap. You can already feel him beginning to harden and you feel an anticipatory shudder run down your back. You lean down and press your lips against his once again, slipping your tongue in his mouth and lightly sucking his. He moans and you reach up and grip his hair, pulling on the strands. You pull back, panting slightly before diving back in and leaving biting kisses on his neck. You push your hips down, grinding yourself against his cock through the layers of denim. Steve tosses his head back and moans loudly. You swivel your hips, just like you would if you were fucking him, and he shoots his hands up, gripping your waist so hard you’re sure there’ll be bruises, and pulls you harder down onto him. You grab a hold of his wrists and pull them from your waist, pushing them up above his head and pressing them down. His eyes are scrunched up, like he can’t bear to keep them open. “You look so pretty like this, under me.” You pant out and his eyes slip open, looking up at you from under his lashes.

You move back, ignoring his whine, and start to unbutton his jeans and slide them down his legs before pulling your own shirt quickly over your head, tossing it to the side, and taking off your own jeans. You slide your hand up his thigh, feeling it tense up. Glancing up, you can see that he’s already looking at you, breaths coming out in quick pants. You press featherlight kisses to the inside of his thigh, trailing up. You can tell he’s having a hard time keeping still. “You’re being so good for me baby, just a little longer and I’ll give you what you need.”. You say before starting to suck at his thigh, just below his underwear. You love to leave marks here, where only you can see. Steve gasps when you bite down into the meat of his thigh, leaving slight indentations from your teeth. You lick over the spot, soothing it with your tongue, before pulling back. Reaching up, you slide the briefs down slightly so that his hip bone is exposed. You brush your finger there and lean down to leave a dark hickey on his pale skin. Steve’s biting down on his knuckles, trying to keep quiet, and you lightly slap his thigh, “Uh-uh. None of that. You know I want to hear you.” You admonish and he pulls his hand back before laying it down on the mattress, gripping the sheets. You pull his briefs down the rest of the way and his cock slaps up onto his stomach, leaving a thin line of precum in his treasure trail, you want to clean it up with your tongue. The head is a dark pink and you know it’s gotta be torture for him to wait like this. To reward him for his good behavior, you take the head of his cock into your mouth and suck lightly. His hips nearly jackknife off of the bed so you put one hand up on his hip to hold him down. You swirl your tongue over the head, lapping up the precum as a steady stream of it comes out, before sinking down further. Steve’s beginning to let out a stream of curses, his legs shaking with the effort of not moving.

You grab what’s left of his cock that you can’t fit into your mouth and move your hand up and down in a tight grip, beginning to suck harder. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” He’s babbling, panting out heavy breaths. You keep this up and can feel him beginning to get close, you suck harder and move your hand faster until he’s on the very edge before suddenly letting go and pulling off. He lets out a high whine, “No. No. Please, I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. Please let me cum.”. You crawl up his body, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll let you cum. You just have to hold on a little longer okay? I know you can be good for me, baby.” You cup his cheek with his hand. There are tears glistening in his eyes from frustration but he obediently nods and you press a kiss to his lips. Moving your hand down, you slip your panties off and go to unclip your bra. You’re so wet just from watching him and listening to him cry for you to take care of him.

You move up and when he sees what you’re about to do, his eyes widen slightly and he goes to help you move up his body, stopping when you’re sitting on his chest. He loves doing this for you, making you feel good. He mouths at your thigh before reaching your mound. His tongue gently laps up your slick, sliding between your folds and brushing over your clit. You reach down and grab his hair again, pulling it taut against his head. You moan when he slips his tongue into your entrance, pushing inside of you in short thrusts. You grind down against him, panting. He pushes into you with his tongue a couple more times before pulling back and pressing the flat of his tongue against your clit. You cry out, gripping his hair even tighter. He pulls the bud of your clit into his mouth and starts sucking. You’re moaning so loud you’re sure the neighbors can hear. “You’re so good baby. You make me feel so good.” You say between breaths. You can feel the heat inside of you simmering. You grind down a couple more times against his face before reluctantly pulling back.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks dazedly. You can see your slick glistening around his mouth and on his lips and you lean down and lick it off, dragging your tongue across his lips before shoving it in his mouth. You moan softly when you can taste yourself on his tongue. You pull back and brush your lips across his, “Nothing, just wanted to cum with you inside of me.” You push your fingers through his hair and take a moment to catch your breath. When your breathing starts to reach normal levels, you get off of him and reach into his nightstand. Steve’s hands are clenching and unclenching where he’s holding your waist. You find the box of condoms and pull one out, quickly ripping the foil and tossing it in the trash. Steve gazes at you through heavy lids as you slide the condom onto him, pumping a few times before letting go. You kneel over his lap, grabbing his length and bringing it to your entrance. Biting your lip, you slowly sink down, the girth of him stretching your walls. When your hips hit his pelvis and you’re fully sheathed, you and Steve make eye contact as you slowly raise yourself and then sink back down. “Ah, fuck!” Steve exclaims, mouth falling open. You moan as well, lifting yourself up again and starting a rhythm.

The slick sound of your skin meeting is almost loud enough to drown out the music. You clench around him when you move just right so that the tip of his cock presses against your g-spot. His hips slam up and you gasp, throwing a hand out onto his chest to steady yourself. Your hips move faster. He’s reaching so deep inside of you and you never want him to leave. You want him to stay like this forever, sheathed inside of you. “Baby.” Your voice cracks as you lose yourself to the rhythm. “You’re so good baby. So good. Always fuck me so good.” Steve let’s out a high pitched whine. “Nobody else even compares.” Every time your hips meet, there’s pressure against your clit. You know neither of you are going to last long so you try to slow down a little, letting his cock drag against your walls. Your hand reaches down and you press against the sides of his neck. His mouth opens and he lets out a breathless cry as his eyes roll back into his head. “So pretty like this. Fucking gorgeous.” You pant out, feeling yourself tighten.

Your pace speeds up again and you’re letting out cries everytime he hits your g-spot. Leaning down, you mouths collide, tongues twisting in each other. You’re so close that you can barely keep up with the kiss, just breathing heavily into each others’ mouth. You can feel your climax approaching but you want to feel him cum first. “You gonna cum for me baby?” Steve nods his head, sobbing. “Be good and cum for me sweetheart. Give it to me.” You bounce three more times before Steve lets out a hoarse shout, clenching his eyes up tight as he cums, filling the condom. You can feel his cock pulsing inside of you and you moan. Reaching down, you circle your clit a couple times before cumming yourself. You grind your hips down a couple times, prolonging both of your orgasms before you finally stop, panting heavily.

“Fuck.” Steve breathes and you laugh. You lean down and press your foreheads together, just breathing. Pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, you begin pulling off, both of you wincing at the feel of him slipping out of you. Tying the condom quickly and throwing it into the trash, you lay back on the bed beside him, catching your breath. You face each other, dopey smiles plastered across your faces. “You know we’re gonna wake up sticky and glued together, right?” He asks as you wrap your arms around him. “I know. Totally worth it.”.