#Canonically his hair wouldn’t be slicked back like it usually is

[insomniphic]

What’s a better way to introduce an AU with Narry’s hair down?

Introducing… Human Transition AU! Where Narry doesn’t wanna be the literal universe anymore and wants to be a living organism.

[artsyunderstudy]

Six Sentence Sunday

Good morning! Thanks @orange-peony for the tag!

I've acquired another WIP, a one-shot that turned into five chapters ahhahaha. Like I have time. I'm really into it, tho. It's also pretty damn angsty. As is my usual MO. Here's a bit, I think you can maybe guess where in the timeline we are. It's a Watford era Canon divergence, and the working title is Your Fragile Bones Are Mine.

“I—I need to talk to him,” I growl. “I need to know where he was.”

“Nicks and Slick, Simon. You don’t. He wouldn’t tell you anyway. Since when have you two ever talked?”

I swallow, my chest aching. 

“There's no way this ends well, and you know it,” she says.

I fist a hand in my hair, trying that whole breathing thing again. How the fuck do I manage this all the time without thinking about it? How have I done it at all over the past few months? After a few shuddering, failed attempts, I manage one unsteady inhale. Then another. 

My vision is clearing. I hadn’t realised how much it'd narrowed until my peripherals came back.

Over Penny’s shoulder, I see Rys, listing in his chair, glancing drowsily at me. A lot of people are eyeing me. Murmuring. A hazy film over their eyes, an odd tilt to their heads. Merlin, that’s my magick. It managed to seep out of me, between the bones trying to trap it back. Ribs and teeth. It feels like bile still burning my throat. 

Tags under the cut.

@imagineacoolusername  @martsonmars  @valeffelees @bazzybelle  @ileadacharmedlife  @aristocratic-otter  @urban-sith  @letraspal  @palimpsessed  @whatevertheweather  @nightimedreamersworld  @carryonsimoncarryonbaz  @raenestee  @confused-bi-queer  @moodandmist  @yeonjunenby  @shrekgogurt  @thewholelemon  @whogaveyoupermission    @onepintobean  @ebbpettier  @theearlgreymage  @ic3-que3n @captain-aralias @fatalfangirl  @prettygoododds  @stitchyqueer  @you-remind-me-of-the-babe  @forabeatofadrum @ivelovedhimthroughworse @mysterioussheep @rimeswithpurple @c0nsumemy5oul @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus @blackberrysummerblog @larkral @j-nipper-95 @alexalexinii @iamamythologicalcreature @supercutedinosaurs @wellbelesbian @that-disabled-princess @cutestkilla @youarenevertooold @emeryhall @best--dress @messofthejess @mooncello

[asa-do-your-thing]

The Shadows of The Lost Court

Dark!Aemond x F!OC - 18+ MINORS DNI Word Count: 8.6k TW: dubcon, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Shameless Smut, Angst, Fellatio, Misogyny, Internalized Misogyny, Non-Consensual Drug use, Religious Imagery, Symbolism and guilt

Art made by the lovely @nyctophilic0vitnir - thank you so much sweetheart! <3 And thank you so so much @ewanmitchellcrumbs for organizing this @hotd-bigbang , you are amazing!

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Elisabeth shuddered and stopped, turning around, coughing to try and relieve her dry mouth. 

She knew. She knew… She knew something. Something was following her. 

Leaning against a grubby, crumbling wall, Elisabeth tried catching her breath. There was nothing there, neither on the left, nor on the right. Only cobwebs; cobwebs, moss and the smell of decay.

 ‘Is The Stranger a something or a someone?’

Tonight was different. The milk came sooner than usual.

Elisabeth struggled - where some people love the rush and the calmness afterward, she hated it. Hated the way it made her sick. Hated the way it lamed her tongue; hated the way it hid her. She knew better than anyone that her doses were calculated. Maester Rithyr must have gotten the order for her to be silenced, not addicted. That wouldn’t look good. 

Elisabeth peered out of a window, only to see thick tendrils of fog curling up from the ground like ghostly fingers. The dim light filtering through the mist gave everything a spectral, otherworldly hue. She took notice of how broken everything looked: shattered windows, splintered doors and debris scattered across the dusty floor. She sighed heavily as she rearranged her long, dark brown hair under its veil, trying to keep it in place amidst all the chaos. And then, she heard him again - his footsteps echoing through the ruins.

The sound made her feel uneasy; it was too quiet, too lonely. For a moment she wondered if she was in trouble or hurt. But then a chill ran down her spine and she realized that perhaps it wasn't just the desolate ruin around her making her feel so cold and scared.

“You swore to obey me. You swore before the gods, you brutish whore. After all I’ve done for you…”, the voice echoed around her.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He was closing in on her. The staircase seemed to be miles away, yet still, she pushed herself away from the moss-covered stones and cautiously started walking. Elisabeth grunted, her legs burning. It was as if she was walking against a current of water, one that swept her slowly closer to him. She stepped over a rotting tapestry and tightly clung onto the handrail of the staircase. 

‘Why would The Stranger think of me like that? Is it time for me to… die?’

Carefully descending down, she peered up the stairs. The window let in cold, humid gusts of air and Elisabeth was sure that she could see his dark robe in the shadow. Knowing that the Queen’s Ballroom had no other exit, she trudged past it, stopping to catch her breath along the way.

Out. Out of Maegor’s Holdfast, her mind urged her. But where would she go? As soon as the Kingsguardmen saw her, they would gently escort her back into her chamber. That’s the way it has been for a long time. Biting her lamed tongue, she quietly walked down to the entrance and glanced out. No one was there. No one, except for the occasional rat that scurried through the lower bailey. 

“I saw the way that the Strong bastard looked at you. You were with him, weren’t you? Was it not enough to tell him about our political strategies, but to also give him your useless cunny? Do you even know the shame you bring onto this realm?”

Her breath hitched as she saw him closing in on her, his dark cape billowing in the light wind. Glancing up at the serpentine steps, she felt a thick raindrop splashing down onto her. That was just what she needed - collapsing on the slick stairs, The Stranger close behind her. No, risking embarrassment by climbing over the ledge into the Godswood was far more appealing to her. 

“Leave me be! I beg of you!”, she whined, her lungs on fire.

'I cannot do this anymore, not long, anyhow, my feet... my lungs... The Stranger... Death...', she thought, unable to focus on anything else than him.

The Godswood was an ancient and sinister place, a twisted forest lurking within the heart of Maegor's Holdfast. Towering weirwood trees with their deathly white trunks and faint streaks of crimson formed a menacing roof above, and the loamy earth seemed to swallow her every step. Elisabeth took a raspy breath, feeling the icy, dank air fill her lungs. The stench of decay surrounded her, the smell of putrefaction and rot. Rain drops pelted down onto her skin, the soil beneath her feet sodden.

Elisabeth moved with a sense of urgency, her feet burning as she weaved through the dense trees. The pattering of rain on the leaves above offered her some concealment as she made her way between the shelter of one tree to another, hoping to avoid detection by her pursuer. Suddenly, a twig snapped behind her and she whirled around, only to hear the sound of footsteps growing louder and louder.

Her heart in her throat, she ducked behind a gnarled oak tree, taking cover from the ominous presence that was closing in on her. She could feel every drop of cold rain as it streamed down her face and hair, running down her back and soaking through to her skin. Each breath was ragged and tumultuous as beads of perspiration bubbled up on her forehead. Elisabeth shuddered uncontrollably in the frigid air before finally forcing herself to keep moving forward through the relentless downpour.

Elisabeth could hear the sound of her own heart pounding in her chest as she tried to make her way through the Godswood. She was shaking with fear, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. She knew that The Stranger was close behind her; she could feel his presence like a dark cloud looming over her.

She stumbled over a tree root, nearly falling to the ground, before weakly righting herself and continuing on. Her hair was plastered to her face and neck,  her clothes were soaked through. However, insignificant concerns like the dampness penetrating her to the core were overshadowed by her urgent need to elude her relentless pursuer.

Abruptly, a chilling sound pierced the silence, causing her blood to freeze in her veins. It was the eerie scrape of something sharp grating against the gnarled bark of a tree, almost like the sound of a blade being sharpened before an execution. Her heart raced as she whirled around, and there, amidst the gusty winds, stood The Stranger, his ominous dark robe unfurling like a spectre from the shadows.

"You can't escape me."

Elisabeth recoiled in terror, her wide-eyed gaze darting around frantically, searching for a possible escape route. However, the Godswood resembled an inescapable labyrinth of winding trees and dense underbrush, leaving her utterly trapped.

The Stranger took a step forward, his eyes fixed on her. Elisabeth saw the hunger in his gaze, the hunger for her soul. She knew that she was doomed. With a cry of despair, she turned and ran, darting between the trees as fast as she could. The Stranger was right behind her, his footsteps pounding on the wet ground.

She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, cold and ...familiar? Shaking her head quickly and looking up into the sky, she saw the towers again. She probably ran around in circles, her dazed mind tricking her into thinking she had been trapped in a forest.

Frantically sprinting out of the oppressive Godswood, she sucked in a deep breath of fresh air as her gaze fell upon the dilapidated Outer Bailey. The once-glorious stone walls loomed ominously over her, crumbling inward from age and neglect. Threadbare tapestries hung limply in the breeze, swaying like ghosts in an abandoned graveyard. Gaping holes in the walls revealed chipped statues that had been carved centuries ago, still standing guard despite their years of neglect. In the far distance, the towers soared into the sky, dark voids against a backdrop of gray clouds.

Elisabeth inhaled deeply as a thick, unsettling aroma engulfed her. The scent of lavender and jasmine combined with the decaying smell of rotting fruit and mildew. In the distance, Elisabeth could hear the faint sound of buzzing from unseen insects lurking beyond the shadows. She stumbled forward, mesmerized by the air that was heavy with an ominous foreboding.

At last she reached the entrance to The Sept - an imposing structure made entirely out of pale stone blocks that glowed in the fading light. Stone steps rose up to meet two large wooden doors while several small windows peeked out like watchful eyes looking down on her every move.

Elisabeth, feeling the stinging of her lungs, ran into the Sept and fell down on her knees. She laid atop the golden seven-pointed star on the floor and looked up at the statue of the Mother, trying her hardest not to look at the Stranger. To calm her head, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths, running her dry, cracked hands over her burning calves. The tears continued flowing over her pallid face, running down into her dirty gown. 

‘What is happening to me? Why on earth would the Seven punish me so?’

She remembered her wedding. It was magnificent, aye. But then again, it had to be. After Joffrey’s death at Princess Rhaenyra’s wedding tourney, she was quietly whisked away from the Stormlands and settled into the Red Keep as a way of keeping the Lonmouth’s - and to a greater extent the Baratheon’s - good graces, so as not to let them favour Princess Rhaenyra’s claim in the case of King Viserys’ death.

The time until the courtship was quiet, that much Elisabeth still remembered. She grew up alongside Princess Helaena - Helaena being three years older than her. Endless hours of handiwork, study and prayer had shrouded her in relative solitude, so when she turned four and ten, she was shocked to be invited to the Royal Table more often and to be invited for strolls with Prince Aemond. Back then she had still been Lady Elisabeth, not 'Princess Bess'.

Later she understood why the engagement happened. Prince Aemond had to marry to secure the crown’s security and to show the green faction that they had gotten the Stormlands support.

She often asked herself why they had chosen her over the Baratheon girls. They were more comely - Elisabeth's stature was short and plump, giving her the appearance of a child much younger than her age. Her brow was rounded, her cheeks plump and her eyes large with dark, scared pupils. Her Monmouth blood - the one that made her relation Joffrey so beautiful - must have passed her by. Her long, dark hair was thick but formless, hanging in her face without curls or ringlets. It was clear to her that Aemond was not interested in her, not in the romantic sense at least. 

As days turned into weeks, Elisabeth discovered that Prince Aemond was the first man with whom she could engage in conversations almost as equals. His cold, yet encouraging words had ignited a spark within her, urging her to delve deeper into her thoughts and ideas. Over time, an unexpected fondness began to blossom in Elisabeth's heart for him. In his unique manner, he exuded a charming gloomy aura that drew her in. Many hours passed in their quiet companionship, their noses buried in books, immersed in shared moments of silent contemplation. Their intellectual pursuits were often overseen by the watchful presence of Princess Helaena, serving as a discreet but ever-vigilant chaperone.

But now, as she lay on the floor of the Sept, she wondered if she had made a grave mistake somewhere along the line in her life. Should she have taken her vows? Life as a septa would’ve suited her far more than whatever tragedy her current situation had turned into.

Aemond had changed since they were wed. Princess Helaena said that that was the case for most men, yet somehow, a small glimmer of hope still arose that it might have been different. He had become more... mean. It was as though he was a different person entirely.

Although... he had always been the quiet sort. The kind of man that you could hear exhaling slowly whenever he heard a foolish remark, the kind of man that judged everyone for everything, the kind of man that doesn't even think himself superior - he believes it.

Elisabeth couldn't help but think of the Stranger. It was a foolish thought, she knew. But in some ways, Aemond reminded her of the mysterious figure. Both were dark, brooding, and unpredictable. 

Elisabeth had always been on edge when Queen Alicent was around; her hawk-like gaze followed her every move and her scornful words cut deeper than any blade. Every time Elisabeth tried to be independent or think for herself, the Queen would chastise her that those were qualities meant just for Husbands.

After months of having to constantly please the Queen and ignore her own wants and needs, Elisabeth felt like a teetering ball ready to burst with the slightest push. She was too afraid to say anything, though, in fear of making things worse.

Then arrived the fateful day of her wedding, a lavish spectacle replete with tournaments, sumptuous feasts, and exhilarating hunts—a grand display of House Targaryen's power and influence. The exuberance of the festivities infected all who attended, making it effortless for others to revel in the celebrations.

However, beneath the surface of the revelry, Elisabeth harboured a mixture of anxiety and excitement, uncertain of what her future held in store. In the midst of it all, Prince Aemond had become a steadfast presence in her life, forging a deep connection with her. He seemed to grasp the essence of her being, affording her the precious gift of solitude for introspection, or so she believed. He made sure to squash her hopes.

For most, that had been a grande and joyous event. For Elisabeth, it was the start of her misery, though she did not yet know the full extent. As the Queen had instructed her, she treated everyone courteously, demurely.

That she did, or at least she thought that she did. Her husband disagreed, though. As soon as they were escorted into his chamber (he had wished for the doors to be closed), he spun around and pushed her against a wall. Aemond asked with a steely voice, towering over her, if she had been cavorting with the Velaryons, the way she had smiled at them, the way Jacaerys’ lips lingered on her hand as he greeted her.

Aemond questioned if she thought him to be blind. Elisabeth whimpered and gulped, trying her hardest not to hold Aemond's hard gaze, when she explained that she was told to be courteous to everyone, only to be cut off, when Aemond had pushed her even harder, making her yelp in pain, her shoulders burning from his strong grip. He ordered her to hush and questioned her why she would associate herself with usurpers, bastards and sodomites. 

What followed was of no particular interest to her, not anymore, anyways. Someone outside of the chamber, presumably Maester Myntheon, cleared their throat and told them to settle any disputes after the ceremony. Aemond had quickly slipped off his breeches - the fact that he didn’t even care enough to fully undress stung her after it had happened - and made sure to get her naked as soon as possible. 

She laid there, freezing, looking up at the tapestries next to their bed as he quickly stroked himself. ‘Do not do anything, lest he should think you a whore’ ran through her mind so often, that she almost thought that a small version of Alicent sat in her brain, spewing her nonsensical rules over and over so she could drive herself insane. 

“Open up.”

When Aemond saw her puzzled expression, he sighed, shook his head and gently pried her legs open, pulling her down the bed so that she was close to the ledge, closer to him and his half-hard member.

“I need to get to your cunt. Don’t make this more difficult for us than it has to be.”

Elisabeth felt her face heat up, and even though the room was dark, she could feel a heavy blush take over her neck and cheeks. She opened her legs wider and tried to steel herself for what was to come, but all too soon Aemond was pushing himself inside of her. She gasped as he entered her roughly, not giving her time to adjust. He kept thrusting into her with more force than necessary, making it hurt even more than it should have. Did he know it hurt? Did it hurt him?

She tried to cry out but he put a hand on her mouth and told her he was almost done. Tears started streaming down Elisabeth's face as Aemond kept going for what seemed like an eternity until finally his body went limp on top of hers. He rolled off of the bed without saying a word and left the room without so much as glancing at Elisabeth again.

Elisabeth lay there in shock, touching herself gingerly where Aemond had just been. For the first time ever she felt ashamed of herself; despite all that had just happened she still felt pleasure deep within herself that made her feel worse than before - something no one had prepared her for or warned about prior to this momentous night.

Was she a wanton whore? Was.. was Alicent right?

That was that. After that, he visited her fortnightly, stated his needs and left again. Although, Elisabeth noted quickly to herself, he had gotten gentler after seeing her bruised cunny. Proving she was a virgin had been no great feat. Her fear had made her so stiff and dry that there were multiple splotches of blood on the bed sheet, so many that even Alicent deemed to congratulate her. That was also the time where Alicent had started giving her milk of the poppy and after that, Elisabeth could not remember anything reliably. 

Even if she could, she noticed it was not the time to reminisce anymore. His eyes were dark and bright at the same time, void of feeling even while raging with anger. The candles flickered nervously on the altars as he stalked into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Slowly turning around, she tried looking up at him despite her shaky vision. He was tall, wearing a cape with a large hood that covered his face.

If he wouldn’t … glide and give off a sense of dread, one could almost think it was Aemond himself. Yet, the way she knew him, he would not have spent such a long time chasing her and taunting her. He made it clear enough to her, she didn’t matter. 

“Have you come to confess? To repent?”

The Stranger offered her a hand, which she eyed cautiously. 

“Have you come to take me? Or are.. You taunting me?”

He laughed ominously. “You know me, I could never taunt you in a sept. But… taking you? That is a very bold request, Lady Wife.” 

Lady Wife? Elisabeth shivered and groaned, taking his cold hand. She was not instantly taken away to the realm of the dead, which made her glad and worried at the same time. 

“Wh… why..? And… why Lady Wife? I’m Elisabeth, don’t you know?” 

The Stranger helped her up and held her for a while until she gained complete function over her legs again. Letting her go, he stepped away again and looked around the Sept. 

“You're quite perplexing. You've yet to respond to my allegations, and instead, you've led me on a convoluted journey through the Red Keep, Bess.”

Calmly folding his arms behind his back, he strolled through the small hall, making sure his eyes were firmly on her shaking form.

“You even took me here, just to ask me to be with you, despite your previous reluctance. Has something changed, perhaps due to a newfound perspective from The Maiden?”

Elisabeth cocked her head to the side, trying her hardest to identify the figure in front of her. Why would… why would The Stranger care for her relations with Princess Rhaenyra and her sons? 

Why would… why would he want to engage in an amorous congress with her? Was that a cruel way the gods were testing her? 

“Well… You chased me… I thought you meant harm to me…” 

The figure hummed and it almost looked like his face turned into a doleful expression. 

“I could mean you harm depending on the answers you shall give me. We are in a sept - if you lie, you are damned. Do you know that?”

Elisabeth took a few steps back and lowered her eyes again. So it was the Stranger. He was asking about her sins so that she might repent before he took her away. That realisation hit her gut like a punch. Tears started welling up in her eyes. 

“I… yes, I do, but believe me, I-”

“I shall decide for myself if you are innocent, Lady Wife. Spare me your tales of woe.”

Closing the distance to her again, the figure gently took her chin into his hand and forced her to look up into his eyes. He quickly smoothed her hair and wiped the tears from her face.

“Before I ask you though, I need to take you. I need to take what is mine; you have ignored me long enough and now that you’ve asked me, I would be a fool not to take you up on your offer.” 

Elisabeth whimpered and stood rooted on the spot. If it weren’t for the weird pull in her stomach, she would have pleaded, would have fled. But something… Something about the way the figure touched her so gently, so caringly, made her heart leap in ways that have seldom happened. Nothing made sense anymore. 

On one hand, she wondered why on earth the Stranger wanted to take her, yet on the other, she knew that what the Gods willed was destined to happen. And if that wasn’t the Stranger? Well, but who would it be? A dream figure? But why would she dream of such things? Was she so depraved and craven? Maybe she was. In that moment, delirious and flush with adrenaline, she threw all concern out of the tiny window of propriety that she still had in her foggy mind. 

Placing a trembling hand around the Stranger’s waist, Elisabeth nodded lightly. 

“Take me then, if you must,” she whispered. The Stranger smiled in response and embraced her tightly, pulling her close to his chest as he kissed the top of her head.

They stayed like that for what felt like eternity and Elisabeth swam in a sea of emotions like never before. She could feel his heart beating against her own, slowly but surely drawing them closer together. 

He smelled familiar. Something in her mind told her she knew him; the smell of leather, dragons and sweat. Could it be...?

At long last, the figure pressed his cold lips onto hers, almost possessively. Even though it had been one of her first kisses, he guided her strongly, making sure that she couldn’t doubt him or his intentions.

Bess tried her hardest to banish the thought of Aemond in her head. No, it couldn’t be - Aemond never kissed her. It had to be the Stranger. Was that the metaphorical kiss of death? 

Answering her doubts, the Stranger slowly started to undress her, as if he was uncovering a precious gem. His hands moved with a slow and patient rhythm, almost like a ritual or dance as they explored every inch of her body. He caressed her curves and memorised every quirk on her figure until Bess had no more will left in her to resist.

For a moment it felt like time had stopped. As if the entire world was focused on them and their lovemaking; their own little bubble of pleasure and passion that nothing could penetrate. Aemond let out a low moan of pleasure as he drew his lips down Bess’s neck, relishing in the taste of her skin against his tongue. She shuddered beneath him as his fingers slowly moved ever lower, exploring each inch of her body without an ounce of inhibition or shame. She gasped when she felt his tongue swirl around one sensitive spot near the base of her spine before finally coming to rest between her legs, ready for exploration…

Elisabeth found herself melting beneath Aemond’s touch as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her body in response to his ministrations. His fingers seemed to know exactly where to go and what buttons to press – it was almost like he was born again.

It was almost like Elisabeth had been born again. The grogginess in her mind had subsided almost as soon as she had felt the pleasure; so had the illusion of the Stranger. But then again, her Aemond had never been kind, gently, loving in bed. He had always been rough with her, pulling her hair if he got too excited. And this man…Her Aemond had never touched her the way he did right now. Was she still dreaming?

Aemond stepped back, the space between them electric with passion and anticipation. His smouldering gaze locked with hers, and she felt a rush of heat that paralyzed her body and mind. Even though he had desired her since the day they were married, he thought she despised him, yet now in a sept the intensity of his longing was palpable. The air around them was thick with desire.

"I need you to taste me. I need to see you naked, on your knees, here, in front of the gods. Elisabeth, I finally want to claim you as my own, as my wife, and not as a piece of meat I spill my seed into every fortnight."

Despite all of her hesitance and apprehension, Elisabeth obeyed without any objection; he was still her lord husband and adhering to her spouse was the utmost important action she could take as a dutiful wife.

With trembling, cold hands she took his long, hard member and guided it towards her mouth. Was that her punishment? But for what? She had done nothing to warrant this perverse humiliation, but as he placed a hot, determined hand on the back of her head, she knew that she hadn't had much of a choice.

Gently, Elisabeth opened her mouth and engulfed Aemond’s cock. She could feel him shudder at her touch, and the heat that emanated from his body caused her pulse to race. His breathing was ragged as he gasped her name again and again, urging her on.

With a gentle hand, she guided Aemond’s hips closer to hers before taking him deeper into her mouth. The sensation of his velvety smooth skin against hers was electrifying. Her tongue gently danced around him, exploring every inch of his manhood until he could no longer hold back the intensity of his pleasure.

Elisabeth felt embarrassed and exposed; this seemed like something she should never be allowed to do in front of the gods. But the sheer pleasure that it evoked in both herself and Aemond kept her going. Gods, it felt so wrong yet so right at the same time.

"Fuck. Yes, Bess... You belong to me... Not to The Strong bastards, not to Aegon, not to anyone else... You're... fuck... mine..."

Aemond's hands tightened around her head, making sure she was as deep as her mouth allowed her to be as he released a long moan before spilling himself inside her mouth. It was hot, salty and Elisabeth tried her hardest swallowing it without looking up at him.

With a throbbing head, she released him and covered her face in shame. She knew the milk was dangerous - yet making her dream of death and running through the Red Keep? Taking Aemond's cock like a... a dirty Harlot?

That was more than she could take. Now he knew that she was a weak person, that there was only a weak will buzzing around inside her. The last thing she needed now was the usual gloating expression on his face - his unbearable questioning. 

“I’ve done all you wanted. Ask me your questions, so that you might finally understand that none of this was ever my will,” she said as she wiped her mouth, her voice brittle.

Aemond gave her a cold look of confusion and cocked his head to the side, closing his breeches and slipping his doublet on again, after he had caught his breath. 

“What wasn’t your will? Giving yourself to me here?” 

Elisabeth sighed. "You're my husband. Your wish is my command."

Aemond, in his usual fashion, looked away from her in shame, flaring his nostrils.

"Alright then. If it is your wish again to make me feel like the worst human being in the world, then I shall do so too. I thought I could take you to your chambers again, get you a hot bath... Alas, my Lady Wife, you asked for the interrogation yourself."

He walked over to the Statue of the Mother and gave her a cold look, his tousled white hair gently floating down his back. His eyepatch made him look even scarier than it usually did.

"I've heard rumours that you've taken moon tea. Do you want to avoid giving me an heir? Swear on the Mother."

Elisabeth shivered and slowly dressed herself again, making sure not to break eye contact with Aemond. The milk made it's presence - or rather, abscence known again - it made her desperately queasy. The aftertaste of Aemond's spunk in her mouth certainly did not help.

"I swear on the Mother I haven't been taking Moon... Tea."

Aemond raised his eyebrow in a quizzical manner.

"Then what is that concoction that Maester Rithyr brings you? I can't imagine it being a skin cream."

If looks could kill, Aemond would've joined the Stranger's embrace right then and there.

"Do not mock me, Lord Husband. You and your filthy snake of a mother know exactly what it is he brings me," she seethed, her voice thick with venom. "It is exactly the thing that made me think you were the Stranger chasing me through..."

Anger was not the only thing that bubbled up inside her. Retching, she emptied her stomach onto the marble floor, the large marble hall making the splattering sound of her vomit uncomfortably loud.

Aemond's eyes blazed with fury, one hand pulled back in a fist ready to strike. But before he had the chance, Aemond's gaze fell on her frail, sweaty body next to a pool of her own bloody vomit and his arm fell limp. He was held in place by the sight, unable to move or even blink as his anger turned into fear.

"Bess, gods, tell me what it is he gives you! Come clean to me, you foolish girl!"

Elisabeth flinched and wiped her lips, groaning weakly. Aemond had not seemed like someone who would lead her into danger or punish her for being honest - if he wanted to be so cruel, he could've hit her when she cursed his mother. She took in a deep breath and tried to rid herself of the sour taste in her mouth, then nervously patted her clammy palms on the stained fabric of her dress. Leaning against the statue of the Father, she felt a little bit safer.

"From the moment we were wed, your mother has given me milk of the poppy. Told me you'd stop trying to give me an heir if I continued to act the way I did."

Coughing, she shook her head and gave Aemond a cold look. His face was unreadable - no reaction was a reaction, Elisabeth noted and took a deep breath before continuing.

"The people in front of our door at our bedding ceremony told her of your indignant attitude to me and my inability to give you an heir after that. She... She thought I was denying you and that you were too courteous to take what was yours."

Elisabeth heaved once more, so Aemond propped her up and held her hair back. As she vomited, a worrying amount of blood appeared - it was nearly just that. Frowning, Aemond used a piece of fabric from her dress to clean up her lips afterwards.

"Please continue," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot on her skin. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and wished she were in bed with a warm blanket instead of being forced to confess. But the more she said, the better chance she had of avoiding drinking that awful milk again.

"She was always displeased with me and she did not hesitate to tell me so. She told me the Daeron's future wife - a certain Clara Lannister," she gave him a sharp look putting a finger to her lips, signaling to him that it was a secret and that he didn't hear it from her, "would have made a much better wife to you than I have. She's even more pious, meeker, prettier..."

Aemond huffed. "Clara's a feeble twelve year old hussy and she has wrapped the court around her pretty little fingers. I still cannot quite comprehend why my mother would try... try to drug and shut you up."

Elisabeth raised her eyebrow and gave her husband a sorrowful look. “You remember why, don’t you my Lord Husband? You were displeased that I was fraternizing with the Strong bastards. You said to her that I wasn't serious about state affairs. You told her you couldn't go through with our marriage vows and that I was too...” A tear slid down her cheek as she shook her head. She wanted to avoid any more tears rolling down, so she looked up in an effort to stop them. "You called me Bess just as the others did to show how much of a simpleton I was and you continue doing so! You would've beat me senseless if I'd have called you Monny!"

Aemond let out an exasperated sigh before taking a seat next to Elisabeth on the cold marble floor, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders in comfort and pulling out a handkerchief from underneath his cloak which he tenderly offered for for her to clean herself off with.

“It’s fine,” he said gruffly. “We all make mistakes.” He put a finger under her chin and lifted it towards him so she had to look him in the eye. “I thought you hated me after our marriage ceremony, and I foolishly told my mother about it in a fit of anger.” Despite his words, there was something uncomfortable in the way his gaze held hers.

Elisabeth erupted into desperate sobs, pounding her fists against his chest with each cry. The dried blood that stained her hands flaked off like dust as she grabbed him in despair. "How could you do this to me? We should have talked it through, together! Instead of understanding why I had changed after our marriage, all you ever did was lash out at me and let your mother drive me to the brink of madness - treating me like a stranger and I can barely recognise myself anymore! If I didn't love you so much, I would hate you right now. But even then, my heart still aches for you... Oh gods, Aemond..."

The strain of her confession was too much for her. Elisabeth tipped forward, still gripping onto Aemond’s tunic with her bloody hands, as she lost consciousness in his arms.

Aemond caught her, gently placing her down onto the floor, then stood up and looked around the sept. He felt torn; part of him wanted to believe what his mother said but the other part of him knew it couldn’t be true. He had made a horrible mistake by allowing his pride and anger to drive him to such lengths, and he now he had to face the consequences alone. With a heavy heart, he summoned some guards who helped move Elisabeth’s lifeless body to his chambers where she could rest peacefully and recover from her ordeal.

Aemond was left with an overwhelming feeling that something fundamental in his life had shifted during that conversation in the Sept — not just between himself and Elisabeth but also between himself and his mother — an unspoken understanding that things would never be the same between them ever again. As he walked off in a daze towards his chamber, thoughts of revenge raced through his mind as he planned how best to confront her about it all — but for now, all he could do was hope that Elisabeth would recover quickly enough so they could make sense of everything together.

He was determined to take care of Elisabeth and as he watched her sleeping in his chambers, the rage that had been building up inside him slowly melted away. He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and sighed resignedly — he had no control over what happened next, all he could do now was to care for her. As best as he could, Aemond pulled the blankets over her body to keep her warm and placed a pillow underneath her head for extra comfort. He sat by her side all night, silently willing for herto open her eyes so they could talk this out together, but it seemed like she wouldn’t wake up anytime soon.

The hours dragged on and his frustration only heightened with every minute that passed until finally Aemond couldn’t take it anymore. He ordered one of the guards to stay with Elisabeth before storming off in an attempt to clear his head. As he walked through the corridors of the castle, images of their conversation in the Sept replayed in his mind but try as he might, Aemond still couldn’t make sense of it all – what did this all mean? Could they ever go back to the way things were before?

Aemond was prepared to take matters into his own hands, he always was. He thought that this evening would end in him seeking a divorce or a mistress at court, arguing with his senseless simpleton of a wife, yet nothing could have prepared him for the confrontation he would have with her. 

Storming up the steps up to her apartments, he quickly shooed away Ser Criston Cole and opened the doors. He followed the light through the Entrance Hall up to her solar, where Alicent sat quietly on a settee, getting her feet rubbed by a lady in waiting. She raised a questioning eyebrow. 

"Whatever's the matter, Aemond? Is Helaena all right? Did Aegon do something?" 

Aemond's nostrils flared with fury as he fought himself to remain silent. How dare no one tell him - Elisabeth's husband - that his own wife had become a shadow of her former self, her mind so clouded with drugs she was practically a ghost? He could feel the rage building in his chest, threatening to escape and take over.

"Milk of the Poppy. Have you lost your damned senses?"

Alicent flinched a bit at his dangerously low, cool tone and sent her lady out. He could not make out her facial expression - it could have been anything from boredom to indifference - which angered him even more. Trying not to act too rashly, he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. 

"Say something! And don't you dare deny it, I know it was you! Maester Rithyr told me everything", he lied effortlessly. He knew he had to - everything else would put Elisabeth in great danger.

Alicent lowered her eyebrow again, donned her slippers and stood up. Her face changed into a caring and hurt one, leaving Aemond a bitter taste in his mouth. 

"Wasn't it you who told me she was cavorting with Jacaerys? Didn't you complain of her disobedience, my dear?"

'So it is my fault now', he thought and took a deep breath, stepping closer to her and grabbing her tightly by the shoulders.

"What I wanted was for you to give her spiritual guidance and help in transitioning into her role as a princess. Why-"

"You cannot turn Mice into dragons, Son. Everyone knows that Bess doesn't fulfil your needs and our doubt will only be confirmed if she continues to be barren."

Alicent interrupted him icily and tore herself from his grip, sitting back down. 

"I have received a raven from Boros Baratheon, he said his daughters had only just flowered. What do you think? Or would you rather prefer Clara Lannister? I could..."

Aemond was taken aback, this conversation had gone way beyond his expectations. How could his own mother suggest such a thing? He knew he had to put an end to it before it was too late.

"Stop right there, Mother", he said sharply interrupting her mid-sentence. "Contrary to popular belief I like Elisabeth a lot and do not wish to take another wife."

He glanced coolly around the chamber and smiled unsettlingly.

"You must forget yourself, dear Mother. Helaena is Queen Consort now so it should be in her responsibility to judge on these issues and you know how much she likes Elisabeth. And besides, if the court would know of your... hysterics, who would continue to take you seriously? You know how your dear father, the Hand, dislikes your moody tendencies."

His words must have struck a chord - Alicent paled significantly and shrunk in her seat, clasping her hands on her lap.

Aemond continued with a calm, yet terrifying tone:"I don't wish for you to continue giving her the drug. I think the milk of poppy may be causing her infertility and I won't let that happen. You barred me from having heirs - who knows what you did with Helaena or you will do with that Lannister girl? It's almost treasonous, you know."

Alicent was desperate and scared, she picked at the skin around her nails to distract herself from what she knew would be a losing battle.

"My son-", her voice was small and trembling. She wanted to argue with him but his implacable gaze made it difficult for her to even look him in the eye. He had always been so strong willed, just like her own father. She had never been able to get through his hard shell of pride and arrogance, no matter how hard she tried.

"I only wish the best for you and our kingdom," she said softly trying to reason with him but he merely scoffed in response.

"Then how can you suggest me taking another wife? It would do more damage than good." His words were cold and final - this conversation was over before it began. Aemond stepped away from her and towards the door, pausing momentarily as he grabbed the handle."Remember our discussion mother", he said sternly before leaving the room without another word.

Aemond stepped out of the chamber, feeling a mix of anger and disappointment. He had hoped that his mother would be able to understand his point of view, but it seemed she was too entrenched in her own ideas about Elisabeth's faults to do so.

He walked down the corridor that led to the castle courtyard, trying to clear his mind of all thoughts. But as he walked, he couldn't help but think about how much he had changed since he had been married with Elisabeth. He had never imagined himself being such a cold and vengeful man, no.

The thought brought a sharp pang of guilt - what if word got out that the heir presumptive to the Iron Throne was considering taking another wife? It could cause widespread scandal and potentially put him at odds with some powerful houses. He shook his head in dismay, knowing that this wasn't an option for him - not now, not ever.

Aemond made his way to the training yard to clear his mind. He picked up a sword and began to practice with it, swinging it in powerful arcs and thrusts as if he were fighting some invisible enemy. His body moved in sync with the blade, becoming increasingly faster until sweat was dripping down his face from the exertion. The familiar movements soothed him - they allowed him to forget about the pressures of court life for a time, giving him respite from all of its trifling problems.

Once he felt sufficiently calm, Aemond returned back to his chambers and changed into some clothes more suited for the upcoming feast. As he finished dressing, he noticed something odd - there was a faint light coming from his bedroom. He rushed over to see what she was doing, hoping that she had woken up again, which she had, indeed.

Elisabeth looked up at Aemond with an anxious expression on her face before hastily turning away from him. "I don't wish to cause trouble," she muttered quietly before standing up and making her way toward the door without another word. "I shall just... retire to my chambers, Lord Husband."

Aemond watched as she stood up, feeling confused and slightly hurt by her actions - why was she so distant? What had happened happened to her?

"Elisabeth?"

He said her name softly, stepping closer to her and taking a gentler tone. He had meant to apologize for his earlier words, but something else came out instead.

"I wanted to thank you, for telling me the truth yesterday. I know it must have been difficult for you. I spoke with my mother and she will never give you milk of the poppy again if she values her life and social standing."

Elisabeth's dark eyes widened as she stared at him in shock. She had completely forgotten the events of the previous day and that Aemond had cared for her after her hallucination - another one of the side effects of the milk. His kind words made the feelings of guilt and confusion wash over her anew, and it was hard not to be taken aback by his unexpected familiarity with her. If she wouldn't have felt that painful yearning in her soul for more of the drug, she would've believed that she was still dreaming.

"L-lord Husband? How...? Why...?"

He smiled, realizing that she must'nt have remembered what had happened yesterday.

"It doesn't matter now," he said kindly. "What matters is that I would like for you to join me at the feast this evening, so people can see how beautiful and intelligent my wife truly is."

Elisabeth gave him a weary look before returning his small smile. She quickly glanced at her reflection in the mirror, before blushing self consciously.

"I give thanks to the Father for leading you to discover the truth... Before we go, can I take a moment to change my clothes?", she questioned quietly, gazing up into his eyes. Once they had filled her with unease but now caused her heart to flutter with a hint of love.

Gently laying a kiss on her forehead, Aemond motioned for one of his loyal servants to come forth. He commanded them to fill the grand bath with steaming hot water and to bring a most exquisite dress for her. "Let me be the one to tend to you my darling. I must have you look as though you are mine," he uttered in a commanding yet affectionate voice.

The servants quickly scurried to do his bidding, bringing forth everything Aemond would need to make Elisabeth beautiful. They filled the bath with fragrant herbs and oils, as well as a variety of soaps and lotions for her to use. They also brought forth an exquisite gown of rich green silk and delicate lace, complete with matching slippers.

Elisabeth silently slipped into the soothing hot bath while Aemond knelt down beside her and began to lovingly bathe her body. He took great care not to scrub too harshly on her bruises and scrapes, something that she had not expected from him. The heat and his gentle touch made her trust him more with every second. "Lord Hus- um, I mean, Aemond, might I ask you soething?"

Aemond squeezed out the sponge in his hand and gently caressed her body. He truly missed out on all of this due to his anger against the Blackss, he noted grimly in his mind and gently started brushing her long, dark hair.

"You may speak freely, Elisabeth."

Elisabeth flushed and hastily sought to conceal the exposed parts of her body, aghast at being presented thus before her husband. "I had been given milk of Poppy yesterday, which has stripped my memory," she ventured nervously, attempting to tread carefully knowing full well his notorious temper. She hoped that whatever grievances between them had subsided in his mind and uttered in an almost meek voice, "Could you tell me what happened? I..."

"Elisabeth, you do not need to be so shy and meek around me," Aemond said soothingly. "I know that is not your true temperament. I will try to reign in my anger more if it makes you feel better." Reaching for a cloth, he dried her body before helping her out of the tub and into the dress they had brought for her. As he arranged it around her frame, Aemond thought about what he should tell herknowing that avoiding certain topics would not help them move forward any better. He gathered his thoughts before finally speaking gently yet firmly.

"I do think it's best for us both if I... do not recapitulate everything, my darling." He tied the ribbons at the back of her dress and gently guided her to a seat, giving her a few pins and such so that she could arrange her hair. His member twitched slightly as he thought back to her, naked on the marble floor, her lips flush against his skin. "You hallucinated something about The Stranger, ran around the Red Keep and then you confessed to being drugged by my mother. We then reached an understanding and I carried you here," he said matter-of-factly, trying his hardest to banish the thought of her full, naked figure from his mind.

Feeling a little flustered, Elisabeth swiftly pulled her hair into a loose bun on her head, letting one or two strands flutter down onto her chest. “Oh, I'm sorry to hear I subjected you through this, I thank you for listening to me and for forgiving me," she said softly. After finishing her hairdo, she stood up and bowed towards Aemond. “Thank you, my Prince, for everything. Shall we go and have dinner?”

When the doors to the Hall opened, a hush fell over the crowd and all that remained was an eerie stillness. With an air of grandeur, Prince Aemond Targaryen strode in, his purple eye sweeping the room like a hawk, the other hidden behind his leather eyepatch. But what shocked the court even more was who he had with him. Princess Elisabeth Lonmouth walked tall and proud beside her husband, having not been seen much since their marriage six months ago. She appeared almost otherworldly with her petite stature and unusual looks, her dark hair waving languidly as a gentle breeze wafted into the Hall. Her chin was raised high and there was no hint of submission or fear in her presence.

The star of Aemond Targaryen had risen again - ready to face the Dance of the Dragons with Elisabeth by his side.

[marvelmusing]

Take Over

Pairing: Crime Lord!Billy x NYPD!Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s fair to say that the Russo case has taken over your life. But maybe you’re okay with that. The Punisher Season 2 AU (where literally everyone except Billy dies)

Warnings: reader’s boyfriend is a pushy asshole, mentions of canon level violence and death, the reader is into violence (probably as much as Billy is but she hasn’t admitted that to herself yet), alcohol consumption, kinda suggestive flirting.

The lifeless body of the Punisher was delivered, beaten and bloodied, to Homeland Security.

Desperate for justice, Agent Madani had followed the trail only to run into Krista Dumont. When Dumont consequently fell to her death, Billy Russo was there on the sidewalk to witness her last moments.

In a siege of violence, Billy had stormed into Dumont’s apartment, firing a burst of bullets towards Madani. He had choked the life out of her himself.

Within the space of twenty four hours, the only two people capable of stopping Billy Russo were dead.

There was no stopping him now.

Six months later, you’re a key analyst working on NYPD’s case against Russo. The research knocks you down the rabbit hole, spending countless late nights reading and investigating. Soon, there’s no one who knows him better than you.

This knowledge and understanding of Russo unsettles your colleagues, and your superiors refuse to listen to your predictions - even when you’re proven to be right. All in all, work is a hell of your own making.

When your boyfriend Callum asks you to join him on a night out at a new club you’re tempted to say you’re too tired. It wouldn’t be a lie. But then you feel bad.

Over the last few months you feel like you’ve neglected Callum, but you’ve been so busy with work, alongside managing all the household tasks since the two of you had moved in together. So you agree.

It’s only you reach the entrance that you realise this is one of Billy Russo’s clubs.

Nerves twist over in your stomach, but there’s no reason for Russo to suspect you of anything. There’s no reason for him to even be here, at this club, tonight.

As usual, Callum finds some supposed old friends to catch up with, leaving you alone at the bar.

When the atmosphere shifts, you turn and watch as Mr Russo descends the stairs in the corner. Music continues to thrum through the building, but to you it might as well be silent as you watch him.

The crowd parts for him as he makes his way towards the bar. Staring hard at the liquors lined up over the wall, you fail to see how his eyes linger on you. A shiver runs through your body at the sound of his voice as he speaks to the bartender.

“My usual. An’ another one-a those.”

He gestures towards your glass with a casual lift of his fingers as he sits down, dropping his jacket onto the seat beside him.

“Thank you, but you don’t need to, sir.”

He shakes his head with a coy grin.

“A beautiful woman like yourself shouldn’t be drinkin’ alone.”

Cheeks warming, you look down awkwardly before you stammer quietly,

“Oh, erm, I’m not here alone.”

Not that it happened often, but if someone hit on you your usual response would be to tell them you have a boyfriend. When had you become so embarrassed to admit that Callum is your boyfriend?

Conflict filling you, a glance over towards the dance floor has you grimacing lightly as a girl practically grinds against your boyfriend’s body.

Mr Russo looks you up and down carefully, before he takes a drink.

“That your fella?”

You nod with a small hum.

“Unfortunately.”

You smile at the bartender as she places the fresh glass down in front of you. Swallowing half of the contents in one go, you relish at the burn in your throat that matches the emotion burning in your chest.

Mr Russo is wearing a fitted khaki sweater, and what looks like a black tee underneath. Casual clothes, but he looks the most put together out of everyone here. Maybe it’s the way he holds himself.

His dark hair is slicked back away from his face, stylish and practical, giving his scars nothing to hide behind. It’s been almost a year and a half since the Punisher had left those scars on his face and they’ve healed well.

From the doctor’s notes that you’ve read, there hadn’t been much hope for him even after he survived the surgery that saved him.

The fact that he was able to sit near you and have a conversation was a miracle, let alone manage a flourishing criminal empire.

You shouldn’t be impressed by that.

“You deserve better.”

Swivelling your head back to look at him, you find Mr Russo’s eyes are staring directly at you.

“Excuse me?”

His expression doesn’t falter.

“You heard me.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I need to know you to know that you deserve better than that?”

He raises a brow, gesturing with his face back towards the dance floor. Two girls are now dancing over Callum, and he seems to be enjoying all the attention.

When he manages to catch you gaze you give him an unimpressed look. He starts to move towards you, prompting you to finish the rest of your drink, leaving a tip for the bartender as you stand.

It’s then that you notice Mr Russo has disappeared.

At that moment, your boyfriend arrives, giving you no time to ponder the whereabouts of Russo. Callum leans in, caging you against the bar with his arms.

“Hey babe.”

Your own greeting comes out tense as he mouths sloppily at your cheek.

“Callum.”

He then attempts to slide his hand up your skirt.

“Callum, stop.”

He groans in protest before he says in a chastising tone,

“Babe. Quit being difficult.”

Tears prickle in your eyes and you go to move away from him.

“Are you serious? We’re not doing this.”

Despite the strength you attempt to put into your statement, your voice wavers. Then Callum grasps your wrist, squeezing hard. Writhing uncomfortably in his hold, you tug away.

A man nearby steps closer, narrowing his eyes at Callum.

“Hey man, she told you to stop.”

Your boyfriend releases his hold on you, using both hands to shove at the man. He’s tall, and barely moves an inch as Callum snaps,

“Mind your own fucking business.”

Another man steps in your direction, looking Callum up and down with a rather disgusted expression.

“There a problem here?”

“My only problem here is you and the rest of Russo’s dogs.”

These men work for Russo. The bottom of your stomach plummets. Your boyfriend is going to get himself killed. One of the men straightens his shoulders, his nostrils flaring.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Some people might hear those words and consider what they’re doing. Callum doesn’t. He doubles down, and you wish you could just disappear into the ground.

“I said you’re my problem. All I ever hear about these days is Billy Russo this and Billy Russo that. I’m fucking sick of it.”

Is he talking about you? Work might have consumed you a little at the moment, but you never talked about Russo at home.

“Well, ain’t that interesting?”

Callum freezes, as do you, at the sound of a familiar voice. The man stand aside, revealing Mr Billy Russo. He slides a hand into his pocket, as he takes a few smooth steps towards you both.

“You know Callum, I understand where you’re comin’ from. If I owed a guy the amount-a money you owe me, than I’d be sick to death of his name too.”

Stunned, all you can do is blink at them both. Your boyfriend was in debt to the criminal you had been attempting to bring in for the last six months. Not only are you finally realising Callum isn’t worth your time, but you also think you aren’t very good at your job.

Then Callum takes a swing at Russo. It doesn’t even land, and soon his men has pounced, subduing Callum in mere seconds.

Mr Russo hadn’t flinched.

You’re mortified, and a little terrified.

“Mr Russo, I’m so sorry.”

He waves away your apology.

“Not your fault now is it, darlin’?” He grins, almost softly at you before he adds, “An’ you can call me Billy.”

He winks and your heart flutters traitorously.

There’s a cry of pain behind you, but just as you’re turning to look Billy speaks again,

“C’mere darlin’.”

There’s half a second of hesitation before you’re moving towards him. When you come close enough, he takes your chin between his fingers, squeezing softly.

“Good girl.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with a cocky smirk as he observes the haze that momentarily clouds your vision.

“You wanna watch?”

Confusion enters your expression and Billy turns your head to face the group that has circled around Callum as he lies on the floor groaning in pain.

“You wanna watch my men kick the shit outta your boyfriend?”

A soft exhale falls from your lips before you correct him.

“Ex-boyfriend.”

Billy grins, and his shoulders shake lightly as he laughs. Turning to look at him, you catch his gaze again and the spark in his eyes bursts into a flame that warms your whole body.

It’s only now that you notice the quiet. The music is still playing, though not as loud as before, but there’s no one else in the room. Blinking, you realise the club must have started being cleared the moment Callum had approached you.

Billy traces his tongue over his teeth as his eyes rake down your body, and if you thought you were on fire before, now you’re an inferno. He raises a brow, almost casually as he wraps his arms around you.

“So, you’re single?”

A small laugh escapes your lips and Billy seems thrilled by your response, his entire face lighting up at the sound of you laughing.

Despite the fact that your ex-boyfriend is being beaten up in front of you, you can’t stop yourself from batting your lashes and asking coyly,

“Are you asking me out, Mr Russo?”

He pulls your back flush against his front and even under the soft fabric of his sweater you can feel the hard lines of his chest. Shifting your hips lightly, you watch as his eyes darken.

His hands grasp at your waist, holding you still with a force that makes you shiver.

“Careful, baby.” His voice is low as his lips brush lightly against the shell of your ear. “Don’t wanna start something we can’t finish.”

Billy takes you earlobe between his teeth, tracing the delicate skin with the tip of his tongue before he withdraws, pulling a gasp and a shudder from you as his teeth nip down.

“Soon this place will be crawlin’ with cops, I’d have to take you home with me.”

A whine falls from your lips as he mouths along your neck, his stubble scratching over your skin and he breathes out a small laugh.

“Maybe you’d like that, hm? You wanna come home with me, darlin’?”

You don’t hesitate for as long as you should and before you know it, you’re nodding. Billy nods back with a wide smile.

His smile drops as he step away from you. Billy’s men are still circled around Callum, who can barely move from his position on the floor, bruised and bloodied. The men part as Billy moves forward, leaning down slightly to look at Callum.

All you can see is Billy’s back, as he stares down at your ex-boyfriend. Then he gives the order,

“Finish him.”

Rolling his shoulder lightly, Billy rocks back on the balls of his feet as he moves away and his men continue with their work. He grins when his eyes fall on you.

“I got better things to spend my time on.”

The dark look in his eyes as they scan down your body makes you squeeze your thighs together, drawing Billy’s attention down there as you do.

Biting down on your lower lip, you look at him curiously.

“Better things?”

He nods, holding his hand out towards you.

“Let’s get outta here.”

You take his hand.

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch

Billy Russo Tag List: @blackbirddaredevil23 @rafaelakelley @theysayitscrazy @nyx2021 @skybridgerton @dragon-of-winterfell @chickensarentcheap @stardustmorozov @sweetwritingfanficfriend @witchcraftandwit @ladyofsoa

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

Hearts are wild creatures, that’s why our ribs are cages. (Affinity Series)

Alpha!Bucky x Sweet Little Omega!POC!Reader

Wordcount: 2573

Summary:

Some Halloween naughtiness with your Alpha.

Warnings:

Fluff and Smut, Smut, Halloween, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Semi-Public Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Accidental Voyeurism, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm

Notes:

Spooky season is upon us and as Halloween is my favorite holiday I just couldn't help myself but to write some Halloween shenanigans with Alpha Bucky. I even threw in some fluff and a tiny bit of plot. I hope you enjoy!

Bannner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics

Another one of Tony’s elaborate parties. At least this one’s Halloween themed and costumes were required. Therefore you got to dress your Alpha up in a black pinstriped suit and bow tie a la Gomez Addams, complete with his recently shorn locks slicked back. You even got him to grow out his facial hair so you could shave it down to that recognizable mustache. Granted he only agreed to the grooming if you sat on his lap naked while you did it, which ended with a very dirty shower afterwards. Well worth the soreness because damn did Bucky look good.

And of course Gomez wouldn’t be complete without his beloved Morticia. Honestly, you’d been looking for an excuse to wear this dress out and show it off. This party afforded that opportunity and a chance to watch your Alpha preen with pride at all the looks his Omega was getting. As you should be, the skin tight black velvet maxi dress, while essentially modest, even with its hip high slit running up the left side, shows off every luscious curve. It’s off the shoulder top allows you to showcase your bonded status and claim marks with confidence.

While you do enjoy a good party, Tony’s are usually rather grand events, filled with numerous faces and people who you are not acquainted with. You basically really only know the Avengers, their support teams and all of their significant others. After mingling around for a while you needed a break from being social. A moment to just catch your breath. So you make your way out to the patio covered in fairy lights and lanterns, following a side path til the voices fade to a murmur and you have an unobstructed view of the night sky. Stars as far as the eye can see, twinkling like diamonds in a vast expanse of obsidian, the moon bathing the earth in her silvery glow. You could get lost in such a sight for hours.

This is where Bucky, ever the protective Alpha, finds you. Stargazing, looking like an ethereal Goddess glowing in the moonlight. The scent of sandalwood, whiskey and honey wafts in your direction before his voice caresses your ears.

“Are you sure you’re warm enough Doll?” He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest and lightly kissing your nape.

You smile to yourself, enjoying the warmth your Alpha provides, now realizing how cold it actually is out here. “Darkness is a beautiful thing, isn’t it Bucky?” Grazing your fingers along his jaw, “Within its endless depths it can both hide and expose a vast array of things.” You turn in his arms, and softly kiss his plush lips, “I rather enjoy the darkness in you Alpha. It feeds mine quite well.”

A wicked grin spread across Bucky's face. “Be careful, dear. Everyone knows I’m a little…twisted.” He lightly wraps his metal hand around your throat.

You glance up to him with innocent eyes and a small smile. “I’m counting on it Alpha.”

You watch the steel grey of his eyes recede as his pupils dilate with lust from the fresh influx of your slick soaked scent invading his nose. “Oh my sweet little omega. You’re in for it now. I was going to wait until we got home to worship you like you deserve. Take my time coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you. Knot you real good. But I can’t stand here any longer with you smelling so sweet, slicking your panties for me and not ravage you.” His metal hand tightens slightly as he pulls you into a deep toe curling kiss. Quickly losing the battle of resistance you start to feel fuzzy and the need to please your Alpha taking over.

He trails his hand down your chest to your waist, squeezing you lightly before he grasps your hand and guides you off the path, a bit further into the darkness. He places you up against a tree, cups your face between his hands and proceeds to devour you with the hunger in his kiss. You moan as he runs his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entrance, of which you eagerly grant him.

He places his flesh hand against the slit in your dress and teases his fingers up your inner thigh. When he is met with nothing but slick and the warmth of your folds he lets a deep growling groan that you can feel vibrate through your chest. “Omega. It seems you forgot to put something on before we left the house. Have you been panty-less all night huh? Wooing the room with your charm and grace while being completely bare and easily accessible underneath.”

Distracted by his fingers teasing your folds all you can do for a moment is just nod. Biting your lip you confess, “I didn't want any lines to show. Plus the slit is so high I couldn't. I don't have a bra on either. This dress really doesn't allow for undergarments.”

“So you’re telling me, that you are completely bare under this dress, Omega?’

“Yes, Alpha, I am.”

A flip seems to switch in his head and he quickly changes from teasing your glistening folds to plunging two fingers deep into your leaking core. You gasp out at the sudden fullness and moan out a breathless “ Fuuuuuuccckk ” as you grip onto his biceps to keep yourself upright when your knees start to get weak.

“So warm and wet for me like a good little Omega. Look at my fingers just slipping in.” He smirks down at you. “Don't worry about falling over baby, I’ve got you. Unbuckle my belt and pull me out Omega, I need to be inside you. We gotta make this quick though before someone wanders by.”

You do as you are told without hesitation. You want to be filled with your Alpha so badly it takes you a minute to fully get him out of his slacks and his gorgeous cock in your hands. You give a few sensual tugs as he moves your dress aside and lifts your thigh onto his hip. “Line me up will ya Doll.”

You moan out as he enters you in one quick thrust. He only gives you a second before he starts a punishing pace. Slamming into you hard and deep. He kisses you as he places his metal hand back around your throat, eliciting another moan from the cool sensation of metal against your sensitive skin. “Baby, I know it feels good. Your sweet little pussy is gripping me so tightly. But you have to be quiet. Can you do that for me baby? Can you be my good little Omega and stay quiet while I fill you up and have you dripping me down your thighs the rest of the party?”

You whimper, trying to hold back another moan as his words hit you, and nod, “Yes, Alpha. Wanna be your good girl. I’ll stay quiet.”

He lets out a low growl and ups the ante on his pace once again. Hitting all of your sweet spots and grinding his pelvis down against your little bundle of nerves. In no time you're clinging onto his back and burying your face into the crook of his neck to stifle any errant moans from escaping. Your orgasm is coming on quickly and with one more deep thrust you soar over the edge and bite down on his suit jacket covered shoulder, to muffle your scream of pleasure.

As you ride out your high, Bucky starts to really chase after his, hips starting to move more erratically. “Fuck baby. You’re so fucking tight and warm, gonna make me pop my knot. You would love that wouldn't you, you greedy little Omega?” You nod your head against his shoulder and whimper out “Yes Alpha, I want your knot.”

“Well you’re gonna have to wait til we're back home for that baby. But don't worry my little Omega. I did say I was going to have you leaking me the rest of the night and I always keep my word.”

You clench down around him, setting him off as he slams in deep and then quickly pulls out far enough so his knot doesn't catch on your tightening walls and sprays your womb white as he fills you up just like he promised.

While catching your breath, coming down from your respective highs, you share some sweet sensual kisses. Bucky slides his softening cock out of you, knot starting to deflate, as he lowers your leg back to the ground. When he lowers his head to put himself back into his slacks and buckle up, you glance over his shoulder and catch a pair of cerulean eyes staring at you.

Gasping out and catching Bucky’s attention, “Steve! Oh my god what are you doing here?”

Bucky, having finished fixing himself up, spins around and stares down his best friend. “What the actual fuck Steve. Were you watching us the whole time? You better have a good explanation for being here.”

Throwing his hands up in a placating manner, Steve sputters out, “I won’t tell anyone what I saw if you just help me get out of here. I wasn’t trying to ruin your moment. I honestly was just trying to get away from Sharon. She’s had a bit too much to drink and is really laying it on thick that even though she’s a Beta she can handle me just as good as an omega and I should,” he swallows with a look of disgust, “let her take a ride on my perfect dick.”

You can’t help it, the pure horrified look his face is making has you busting up laughing. You laugh so hard your bent over clutching your stomach and tears are welling up in your eyes. Bucky looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“I walk up on you guys fucking against a tree, trying to get away from that woman and you’re laughing at me?” Steve scoffs, shaking his head, hands on his hips.

“I’m sorry Stevie. It’s just,” you start laughing again, “Your face. You just look so terrified and genuinely scared for your dick. I thought I’d never see that look on your face. I’m sorry for laughing, “ your laughter dies down to giggles, “Don’t worry we’ll help you get out of here. Gotta finish our horror a thon back at your guys place anyway. Plus we were just thinking of heading out, right Bucky?”

He looks over at you with that knowing look in his eyes. He knows what you're up to, trying to hurry up and get that knot he promised sooner rather than later, he’ll play along for now. “Yeah Steve we were. So how about we make the rounds and say our goodbyes and head on home to our place so my little Omega can finish her horror a thon we both promised her. Sound good?”

“Yeah Buck that sounds good. And again I wont say anything to anyone about what I saw tonight. Although I must say it was really hot. I couldn't take my eyes off of you two. And I really tried.” Steve confesses.

“Don't push it, Golden Boy. I’ll gladly throw you to Sharon and take this little minx home and not think twice about it.” Bucky stares Steve down.

Standing between them, one hand on Bucky’s chest, “Boys, boys, enough squabbling. Let’s get out of here, so I can get this dress off and into something comfy while I subject you to my favorite 90s slasher films.”

They both nod their heads in agreement and you all make the goodbye rounds, steering clear of one Sharon Carter, and head home.

You rush into Bucky’s room quickly to remove your dress and wipe down your thighs. As Bucky is changing into just a pair of grey sweats, you decide that if he’s going to tease you by wearing those sweats so low on his hips then you’re going to wear the button down he wore tonight that reeks of his scent for you little movie marathon and nothing else. Two can play that game Alpha.

As you're getting the movies selected and set up for the rest of the night as Steve is changing in his room, Bucky decides to get to work on his earlier promise. “Omega. I think we’re all set. C’mere and bring that thick blanket you love so much with you.”

You walk over to him laid out along the couch. He grabs the blanket from you and tosses it onto the back of the couch as he runs a hand up your bare leg. Patting his lap, “Come have a seat baby. I have something I need you to do for me before Steve gets out here.”

You sit on his thighs as he begins to rub yours, noticing the growing bulge in his sweats. “I want you to pull me out, sit on my dick and lay your head on my chest. I want you to warm my cock while we watch our movies. Don't worry I’ll cover us with your favorite blanket. Steve will have no idea I'm surrounded in your warmth.”

Biting you lip and feeling yourself get wet at the promise of being full again you nod your head in agreement and proceed to take Bucky’s now hard cock out of his sweats. You slowly lower yourself down on his thick member and rest your head on his naked chest.

As he places the blanket over you both, you begin to squirm and readjust on his cock. “Omega if you don't stop moving I’m gonna pop my knot and then you’ll really be stuck.”

With a devilish smile and a swivel of your hips you look him dead in the eye, “You did promise you’d filled me up real good with your knot tonight.”

“Fuck. It’s like that huh omega? You want my knot that bad?” He chuckles out.

In response you just continue to move your hips in a figure eight pattern and grind your clit against his pelvis. You’re still sensitive from earlier so it doesn't take long before you're clamping down on his length as you climax. You set his knot off as he buries himself deeper and groans into your neck as he shoots rope after rope, bathing your walls in his cum, locking you both together as Steve walks into the living room. “So what are we watching first?”

“My all time favorite of course. Scream.” you proclaim with the brightest smile, giving Bucky a quick kiss as you reach for the remote, tugging lightly on his knot in the process, earning a tight squeeze to your thigh from your Alpha. You press play and lay back down on Bucky’s chest.

You feel so safe and warm, wrapped up in your Alpha’s arms, his knot filling you up, keeping you locked together, that you find yourself drifting off to sleep as he plays with your hair.

Steve gazes longingly at you fast asleep on his best friend's chest. “You're a lucky man Buck. Truly lucky. I'm really happy you found her.”

Bucky runs his thumb along your cheek. “Thanks man. I feel like the luckiest S.O.B. alive to have her. She means everything to me. I never thought I’d get to have this. I’m not ever letting her go.”

[deepdisireslonging]

Sunrise Guarded by Night Chapter 4: Rent Due

The night arrives to pay the new landlord. But it’s not just the two goons who show up to collect.

Pairing: Nightwing x Ileana Dimitriov (OC)

Warnings/Promises: food mention, canon-level violence, use of gun

Word Count: 850

Note: Things are heating up! Only one more chapter left (and it’s got smut!)  Happy reading! Comments and reblogs are always welcome. This is the third part of a commission that came in. Catch up here:

Chapter 1: Every Morning || Chapter 2: New Landlord || Chapter 3: Midnight Sleuthing

The due date inched closer like a mold spot. No matter what Tajra said, Ileana refused to let her switch up her schedule. A possible night out wasn’t a blip on the back burner. Not with the rent and upcharge coming Friday night. 

On the morning it was due, Tajra was a wreck. She dropped two drink orders and had to remake them. Her usually bright smile instead left the shoppe with a foreboding aura. Ileana found herself unusually calm. The rent was prepared. And the extra fee. It had hurt to pull that much out of the bank, but it was necessary. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep, she worked for the whole day. Maybe she could sleep on her off day. Officer Grayson’s visit came and went like any other patron. 

At closing time, Tajra tried once more to stick around. “This floor is filthy. I’ll probably come in tonight and give it a good mopping.”

“You’ll do no such thing. Go home, Tajra.” Ileana winced at the coldness in her voice. Forcing a smile, she gave Tajra a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” As much as she would have liked the company, watching Tajra leave made her feel better. 

The store would never be cleaner. Top to bottom, spick and span. Places that had never been dusted and swept were cleansed deeper than a germaphobe’s muddy child. Between tasks, Ileana checked the drawer and the envelope. At least twice she took it into the kitchen to count it. All there. Never once did she have a cup of coffee. Who needed caffeine when there was anxiety? 

Earlier that Wednesday, a note arrived saying the pick-up would happen at ten. At 9:55 pm, Ileana finally sat down, wringing her hands. At 9:59, a knock rattled the front door.

 Three people stepped in. 

 Jack and John, and a woman with long black hair and a long black coat. She looked around while the messengers asked for the money and any leftover pastries. 

 “I’m- I’m afraid we sold them all.” Ileana’s skin crawled as Jack walked close behind her. “I usually only make enough to sell. Keeps the overhead prices down.”

 John shrugged. “That’s too bad. Maybe you and Mrs. Askoy could keep back a few for us next month? I bragged about them to our friend here. She was really looking forward to a snack.”

 “It’s alright, John. I’ve actually been in during the day to try the wares.” The woman gave a warm smile that Ileana couldn’t place. “Maybe I could book a weekly order in exchange for a lower rent. Does that sound fair to you?” She stepped close enough for Ileana to smell her spicy perfume. 

 “Ye- yes. Sounds fair.”

 “Good.”

Ileana heard it before she felt it. The crack of the woman’s palm across her cheek shocked more than it hurt. Jack held her upright when another slap across her other cheek almost sent her sprawling. 

The woman apologized quietly. “Usually, we wouldn’t do this. But you’ve got a gargoyle watching over you. And I’d like to meet him.”

On cue, a man dressed in blue and black slid into the shoppe, batons drawn. “A bit rough for a pick-up, isn’t it?”

A slick grin slid across the woman’s face. “Nice to see you again, Nightwing.”

“Likewise, Ms. Domna.”

“It’s Domino now.” She began to unbuckle her coat and nodded for Jack and John to move Ileana to the side. “Shall we pick up where we left off? With a little fire?”

Faster than Ileana could blink, she whipped a gun out and fired. Jack covered her scream with his hand, hooting encouragement as Domino fired shot after shot. Nightwing continued to backflip and leap like an acrobat to avoid the bullets. He threw a baton, taking out Jack, and making Ileana scream. She wished she hadn’t. Nightwing stumbled over a chair. One more shot went through his arm, making him cry out. John rushed over to wrap his bicep around his throat, gripping his hair hard to hold up his face. 

Slowly Domino walked over, reloading her firearm. Ileana felt like she was going to vibrate out of her skin. Her eyes drifted to the broom leaning against the wall. 

“I have to say,” Domino levelled the gun with Nightwing’s forehead, “I expected more.” 

The gun went off, but the bullet embedded into the floor. 

Domino spun to glare at Ileana. The shoppe owner shivered, dropping the broom she’d used to deflect the shot. Nightwing took the split second and his other baton to whack John in the stomach. He tackled Domino before she could aim at Ileana. The ringing in Ileana’s ears turned into sirens. Blue and red lights reflected off the street windows. With a grunt, Domino shoved her knuckle into Nightwing’s wound, pushing him off. 

“Boys, let’s go.” They ran into the night. The sirens peeled off after them. 

Unsteady, Nightwing stood. “Are you alright?”

Ileana couldn’t nod. Her chest heaved, freezing at the edges of exhales and inhales. A squeak of a sob was the only warning before she fainted.

***

Chapter 5: A Better Morning (Smut)

Would you like to commission a fic or mini series too? Read about it here: Guidelines Here

[thekinkyleopard]

Levi Lore 

Mommy Issues

Canon Levi Lore

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Parental Abuse, Drug Abuse, OD

Author’s Notes: Hey guys, I had this sort of swirling in my brain for the longest time so I've brought to you some good ol' angtsy Levi lore! Enjoy :)

“Levi I wish you would just understand I’m never going to support that lifestyle, I’m sorry, I just don’t think anyone is ever going to truly love you like a woman could,” the woman callously spoke as she scrambled around the tiny RV. “God DAMN IT, where the hell can I find a lighter in this hell hole??” Shouting as she opened drawers violently, flinging open cabinets. A scrawny, short teenage boy stood there with a broken heart and tear stained cheeks, watching as his mother tore apart their home.

“Mom…you don’t know that though!” He shouted back fighting the urge to sob, his hands balled up into small furious fists. Why couldn’t she just hope for the best?? “And even if it WAS true, why wouldn’t you just wish me a different experience? Why not wish me to find love?”

“I do Levi! But love can only be had between a man and a woman! Point, blank, PERIOD! End of discussion, Levi Flynn, you’re stressing me out and I can’t smoke if I can’t find a light, and I’ll very quickly become the mom you hate if I get pushed any further…” she hissed between gritted teeth. The white haired teen rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest he seethed.

“You’re already the mom I hate…” he said in muttered words, but none the less, Evelyn heard it, and it stung like a knife to the gut. She snapped around and she grabbed the nearest object, one of her many unread books, and hucked it at his head. Being fairly quick on his feet, Levi was able to successfully slide out of the way before it could make contact.

“You’re so fucking ungrateful! I do everything I can for you and this is the thanks I get?? I wish your grandmother never died, then I wouldn’t have been STUCK raising such dead weight,” thrashing and crashing through the RV with pure rage as her words shot out slick poison. Levi stepped back, and out of her path. All he could do was stare, stare at the woman he called mother and feel so completely and entirely disconnected from that relationship. However, Levi knew he could never leave her, because without him, what would happen to her? He was suffering, struggling with who he was a person, not being accepted by his mother as well as trying to remain a family. Her words, they cut him to his very core and Levi found himself trembling.

"Oh what? Now you have nothing to say for yourself?? God you're so pathetic, at least your sister had a back bone!" Evelyn scoffed with impatience as she tossed some loose items around before finally stumbling upon a lighter. Levi stood there, his emotions a tangled mess as he watched his mother light her cigarette. He wanted to scream at her, to make her understand how much her words hurt him, but he knew it would be pointless. She was set in her ways and nothing he could say would change her mind.

As Evelyn took a long drag from her cigarette, Levi felt a wave of nausea wash over him. The smell of smoke always made him feel sick to his stomach. He couldn't help but wonder if his mother's smoking was the cause of his constant headaches and coughing fits.

Suddenly, Evelyn turned to him with a wicked gleam in her eye. "You know Levi, maybe I was too hard on you. Maybe there's still a chance you'll see the error of your ways and find a nice girl to settle down with."

Levi felt his heart sink. He had hoped that his mother had finally accepted him for who he was, but it seemed like she was just playing games, as usual. Why couldn't she just take this new at face value and accept it? Why was it always a battle.Levi shook his head, knowing that his mother would never truly accept him for who he was. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he had been living with it for years. He turned away from her, unable to bear the feeling of her eyes on him any longer.

As he walked towards the door of the RV, he heard his mother call out to him. "Levi, where do you think you're going?"

"I need some air," he replied, not bothering to turn around.

His mother's response was a simple, "Don't be long." turning from his direction to continue a pointless search through the transporting home. Always hoping to find an extra pill laying around from one of those hazy days where they'd tend to scatter at her feet.

Levi stepped out into the cool night air, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly. He had always found solace in the outdoors, away from the confines of the RV. As he wandered through the campsite, he thought about his life and what it would be like if he could just be accepted for who he was.

He had always known that he was different from the other boys in school. It never bothered him to be gay, but he knew, he knew how his mother was. It frustrated him. He wish at the very least he still had his siblings to turn to but they'd be gone for years now. Having been taken away by CPS...his body shuddered as he remembered the way he screamed, and begged his grandmother to go get them. Yet she never budged. Always holding some sort of reserve against them. Levi felt hopeless, more times than not growing up, then coming back home to mom.

"You know what, mom, I also wish grandma never died....ever since she did I've been stuck in your misery..." he muttered to himself, pushing the tears from his eyes as he came up on the small creek behind the plot of land they were camping. As he approached the body of water, he found a nearby log to seat himself. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, could he really live like this? Be constantly berated and unsupported by the one person he was supposed to be able to count on? His head swirled with thousands of thoughts, ideas, he wanted to run away. He couldn't. He knew despite how horrible, and awful she was to him, he couldn't just abandon her. He sat out there for a long period of time, not even concerned by how late it was or, that he knew better than to keep the witch waiting.

"This isn't fair...why couldn't I get asshole genes? Then it would make this so much easier..." he muttered to himself looking down at the slowly rushing water before him. He sucked in a deep breath of air and decided he would have to go back and face the bitter woman. Lifting himself from the log and carrying himself begrudgingly back down the path to the place he unfortunately called home, he hesitantly walked back inside.

Evelyn was sitting at the small kitchen table, surrounded by a half empty handle of Jack and half-smoked cigarettes. She didn't even bother to look up as Levi walked in.

"I thought I told you not to be long," she muttered, taking another swig from the bottle.

"I needed some air," Levi said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Evelyn just shook her head. "You know, Levi, you really need to start taking more responsibility around here. You can't just run off whenever you feel like it."

Levi felt his anger starting to rise. How could she talk about responsibility when she couldn't even be bothered to keep the RV clean or put food on the table? But he knew better than to voice his thoughts out loud. It would only make things worse.

"I'll do better," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Evelyn snorted. "You always say that, but you never follow through, it's a sickness," shaking her head back and forth solemnly. Levi almost felt like he'd been slapped across the face, he stood there, unsure of what to say. The silence hung heavy in the air, the tension palpable. Finally, Evelyn stood up from the table, swaying slightly from the alcohol.

"I'm going to bed," she said, making her way to the back of the RV where the bedroom was located. "Make sure the door's locked."

Levi waited until he heard the door to the bedroom shut before collapsing onto the couch. He felt exhausted, emotionally drained from the constant barrage of insults and belittling comments. He couldn't keep living like this, but he didn't know how to change things.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, he thought about his life and what he wanted for his future. He wanted to be accepted for who he was, to find someone who loved him for him, but most of all, he wanted to be happy. He knew that he would never find happiness with his mother, but he didn't know how to break away from her. Then again, was that even possible? Let's say he did break away, was it certain the damage she'd placed upon him would allow him to be loved at all?

Levi closed his eyes, trying to by pass the berating voices that replayed in his head. 'You'll never be good enough.....no one will ever love you....' the thoughts swirled in his head like a bad AD stuck on repeat, he wished for anything in the world to take it all away. Feeling the over whelming emotions take over him, he allowed himself to fall into silent tears, they pooled down the sides of his face as he stared upward.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Levi still found himself trapped in the RV with his mother, unable to break free from the toxic environment. He tried his best to stay out of her way, but it seemed like every move he made was met with criticism and disdain.

One day, as he was rummaging through the storage compartments looking for something to eat, he came across an old photo album. It was filled with pictures from his childhood, from before his world had been turned upside down by his mother's addictions. As he flipped through the pages, he saw images of himself and his siblings, and even of his grandmother. For the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of belonging.

But it was fleeting, as he closed the album, he was met with the reality of his situation. He was alone, with no one to turn to. Evelyn stumbled into the RV messily, her eyes dilated to the size of saucers, Levi could tell from the slight sheen of sweat, she was on something. She did say she was going out to run an errand, usually meant she was going to find any way to get a bottle of oxys. Levi tried to avoid her as she stumbled around the RV, knocking over a vase and cursing under her breath. He knew from experience that trying to reason with her when she was like this was futile. Instead, he retreated to his small bunk at the back of the RV, hoping that he could wait out her high.

As he lay there, he thought about the photo album again. It had brought back memories of a happier time, of a time when his family was still intact and his grandmother was still alive. He remembered how she used to hold him and tell him stories, how she would always have a smile on her face no matter what. It was the complete opposite of his mother, who seemed to be perpetually angry and resentful.

Levi felt a pang of sadness as he thought about how different his life could have been if his grandmother was still alive. He turned onto his side and he stared at the old photo of him and his grandmother he had pinned to his wall. The silence in the cabin eventually comforting him enough to fall asleep. However, little did he know the scene he would be left to handle soon to follow.

A while had passed, unsure of how long exactly, all Levi knew is it was still light out when he had gone to sleep and now, it was dark, and the RV fell silent, eerily silent. Levi sat up in his bunk, feeling uneasy. He wondered where his mother was and what she was doing. He debated getting up and checking on her, but something held him back. He lay there, listening to the sound of his own breathing and the creaking of the RV as it swayed in the wind.

Suddenly, he heard a loud banging on the side of the RV. He jumped, his heart racing in his chest. He listened intently, trying to decipher what the noise could be. The banging continued, growing louder and more insistent.

Levi climbed down from his bunk, his legs shaking. He made his way to the door and peered through the peephole. He saw a man standing outside, his face obscured by the darkness. The man was pounding on the RV with all his strength, his fists leaving dents in the thin metal exterior.

Levi's heart raced as he debated what to do. Should he call the police? "Hey! Hey!! Theres an unconcious woman out here!! Is there anyone in there?? Someone needs to call 911! My phone doesn't have service out here!" Levi hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. He had heard stories of people being lured out of their homes and attacked, and he didn't want to put himself in danger. But then he thought about his mother, and how she could be lying out there, hurt and helpless. He couldn't just sit back and do nothing.

He opened the door and stepped outside, the cool night air hitting him like a slap in the face. The man turned to face him, his eyes wild and unfocused. "Thank god you're here," the man said, relief evident in his voice. "There's a woman out here, she's unresponsive, We need to call an ambulance,"

Levi followed the man's gaze and saw a figure lying on the ground a few feet away. He rushed over and knelt down beside her. It was his mother, her eyes closed and her breathing increasingly shallow. Panic set in as Levi realized that this could be it, seeing the empty bottle of pills close by, and the stench of alcohol on her breath. God damnit. She mixed them again, and this time, he wasn't sure she was going to make it. Racking his brain on what to do he panicked and just started doing anything he could to bring his mother back, though it seemed in all his efforts she only declined.Levi's hands shook as he tried to revive his mother. He knew he had to act fast, but his mind was foggy with panic and fear. He tried to remember the CPR classes he had taken years ago, but the memories were hazy and hard to recall.

He looked up at the man who had found them, hoping for some help or guidance. The man simply stared back at him, his expression twisted with fear and concern.

Levi took a deep breath and started chest compressions, counting each one in his head. He tried to remember the rhythm, but it felt like he was doing it all wrong. He felt a sense of hopelessness wash over him as he realized that he might not be able to save her.

"Do you have a phone? Maybe I can call for help??" the man asked seemingly just as panicked as the little leopard was. Levi quickly nodded his head taking his cell from his back pocket.

"Here I get really good service in most areas...call an ambulance please..." He told the man as he continued to try and help the fleeting woman. Her heart slowing, and her skin starting to pale even further as dark circles formed under her eyes. "God damn it mom...please don't do this to me.." Levi's voice was barely above a whisper, but the desperation in his tone was palpable. He continued with the chest compressions, willing his mother to come back to him. He had never felt so alone and helpless in his life.

It felt like an eternity had passed before he heard the sound of sirens in the distance. The man had managed to get through to the emergency services, and they were on their way. Levi felt a sense of relief wash over him, but it was mixed with an overwhelming sadness. He couldn't believe that it had come to this, that his mother's addiction had brought them to this moment.

He continued with the chest compressions until the paramedics arrived and took over. The man who had found them stayed with him, offering words of comfort and support. Levi felt grateful for the stranger's presence, even if he didn't know his name.

As they loaded his mother onto the stretcher and into the ambulance, Levi climbed in after her. Nervously the 17 year old sat on the bench next to his declining parental, the paramedics going back and forth in their medical lingo. Levi understanding not a single bit of it.

"Kid, do you have anyone else you can call? Mom doesn't seem to be doing great...you may need someone to come pick you up..." Levi felt his stomach drop as his eyes scanned over his mother's seemingly lifeless body and the men put in charge of helping her.

"I-....." Unsure of how to answer, he was 17, he'd be 18 in 6 months but that wasn't under consideration to Child services, and he certainly didn't want to end up in foster care for the last few months of his teenhood. "Yeah..." he lied "I have someone....but I'm going to stay with her as long as I can..." looking down at his mom now, the paramedics each nodded, understandingly. Levi sat in the back of the ambulance, his mind racing with thoughts of what would happen to him if his mother didn't make it. He knew he had to face the reality that he might lose her, and the thought made him feel sick to his stomach.

When they arrived at the hospital, Levi followed the paramedics as they rushed his mother into the emergency room. He watched helplessly as the doctors and nurses swarmed around her, working quickly to try and save her life. He could see the worry etched on their faces, and it only added to his fear.

Levi sat in the waiting room, his hands shaking and his mind spinning. He wondered how he had gotten to this point, how everything had gone so wrong. He had always known that his mother had issues with addiction, but he never thought it would come to this.

Hours passed, and Levi's anxiety only grew. He had no idea what was happening to his mother, and the waiting was unbearable. It was a few short hours later that finally a doctor came out to greet the young boy. "Hey kiddo.." His voice somber, which didn't leave the leopard feeling any better about this situation now.

"Please....please tell me she's okay..." his voice broke as he watched the doctor's face turn solemn.

"I'm sorry, son. Your mother's heart stopped for too long before we could revive her. There was too much damage to her brain and other organs. We did everything we could, but I'm afraid she's passed away," the doctor said gently, placing a hand on Levi's shoulder.

Levi felt his world shatter around him. He couldn't believe that this was happening, that his mother was gone. He had always known that her addiction was dangerous, but he never thought it would lead to this. He felt a surge of guilt overtake him, wondering if there was anything he could have done to prevent this.

The doctor continued to speak, but Levi barely heard him. He was lost in his grief, unable to comprehend the reality of the situation. All he knew was that his mother was gone, and that he was alone.

As he left the hospital, Levi's mind was blank. He had no idea what he was going to do now, no one to turn to...no where to go but that old empty RV. He looked up at the sky, he folded his arms across his chest and somehow, Levi absorbed this whole situation, as his fault. He did this. He should have been a better son, he should have kept his sexuality to himself, it wasn't any her concern anyway. Him coming out is probably the reason she felt like she had to take the whole bottle. He did this to them, by not being a better son.

It took him a long time of walking in the dark, but eventually the young teen made his way back into the now lifeless RV. He collapsed onto the old couch and buried his head in his hands. He felt broken, lost, and alone. The sadness and guilt weighed heavy on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He couldn't help but think about all the times his mother had tried to get clean, promising that she would never touch drugs or alcohol again. She would always break her promises, leaving Levi to pick up the pieces.

Now, she was gone, and he was left to pick up the pieces once again. But how could he when he felt so broken?

Levi sat there for hours, lost in his thoughts and grief. He didn't know how to move forward, how to live without his mother. She was the only family he had left, and now he was truly alone.

As the night wore on, he tried to calm his racing thoughts, but they just kept coming. Memories of his mother, both good and bad, flooded his mind. He needed an escape and though it was wrong, though it aided in his mother's untimely demise, he grabbed the last bottle of cheap liquor left in the cabinet, flung off the top and pulled it to his lips. As the alcohol burned down his throat, Levi felt a sense of numbness wash over him. He knew that what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He needed something to take the edge off, to dull the pain that was consuming him.

The more he drank, the more his thoughts became jumbled and incoherent. Memories of his mother mixed in with his own self-loathing, creating a toxic cocktail of emotions that Levi couldn't handle.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he finally passed out, the empty bottle slipping from his hand and rolling onto the floor.

When he woke up, the sunlight was streaming in through the windows of the RV. For a moment, Levi felt disoriented and confused, wondering where he was. But as reality set in, he remembered everything that had happened the night before.

He felt a wave of shame wash over him as he looked around the RV, taking in the empty bottles and the mess that he made in his drunken grief.

Oh man, what the hell was he going to do now? He looked around the lifeless domicle and only felt more and more hopeless. He needed to get out, he needed to find a way to keep going, to survive, but everything felt so bleak, so raw. He wasn't sure he could even bring himself to do anything more than sulk for the next few days, and maybe, that's exactly what he needed to do.

The end.

Author’s Notes: Ahhhhh sad :( but I love writing heartbreaking Lore for my sweet leopard boy 🥹

[nami-moittli]

1, 11, 15, and 25? for the ask game :]

1) who is on your Home Screen right now?

Cater! Specifically his ceremonial robes card. Whenever a birthday happens I like to put the birthday boy (or girl, in a few cases lol) on the Home Screen, and I haven’t bothered to switch him out for someone else yet lol

11) favorite dorm uniform?

Oooh, this one’s tough. They’re all very pretty! Maybe not Igni, but I do like a lot of them! I’m just going to go with my gut and say Pomefiore and Heartslabyul. Tho, specifically Heartslabyul’s dorm leader uniform.

15) you get to change one person’s hairstyle, whose is it, and what are you changing it to?

Ugh, this is hard. I’m honestly not very good at design, which is why I usually use Gacha cause it’s way easier. I actually lowkey hate my Yuu’s hair, but I’ve gotten used to it and wouldn’t know what to change it too.

But for my actual answer, I think I’d want to change someone’s hair that I HATE drawing, so maybe Sebek? While I understand why his hair is slicked back like that, I like his hair down way more, and while I haven’t tried to draw it yet, I’d bet it’s way easier. Bc this is my attempt of slicked back hair-bek 😭😭😭

Who knows, maybe I’m just shit at drawing?

25) who is the first person to be banned from ramshackle?

My gut instinct is Floyd, simply because of his nature and stuff, but I’ll try process of elimination-ing it

None of the first years, they’re all over every weekend for a sleepover, so they’re all out

I think I can eliminate the OB boys too? They need somewhere to chill where it’s quiet, and ramshackle’s a good place for that. Someone like Vil is on thin ice tho, bc I know he’d be up on my ass for the mess. I do need motivation to clean tho, bc, ✨ADHD✨ so I suppose it could help a bit, but yeah. Thin ice bud

The rest of the 3rd years? Trey and Cater, they’re both good 👍, Rook, ehhhh, again, thin ice. Tho I do think that he’d have to be banned from a 4 mile radius of Ramshackle, due to his scary eyesight. Lilia, he’s banned from the kitchen at least. I don’t think he’s banned from Ramshackle in its entirety tho.

2nd years? Ruggie’s cool. Plus he canonically helps the ghosts out as a side hustle, so he’s there like every week, even he doesn’t go into the dorm. Jade, uhmm, I think that if I was in Twst, he’d scare me, plus with the whole stealing ramshackle stuff that happened, I don’t think I nor the ghosts would feel comfortable with him there. So, probably. Floyd, like I said, is my gut instinct. Kalim, he’s good! Silver is also fine 👍

So, in conclusion, probably Floyd or Jade gets banned first. Sorry Clove

[elephart-hi]

Worthy of a Queen | Jurdan Canon Compliant AU

AU: Jude decided to take Cardan in small doses during The Wicked King. Lovers AU

Summary: Jude was a fool for try to best Cardan here. She may be a cunning spy and a swords master but the bedroom and lovemaking was his domain.

~~~

“Shall we continue?” he asked in a voice of innocence that certainly seemed akin to lying with how far innocence was from his intentions.

~~

Jude had underestimated Cardan. She got her prize, she had won the battle, but he was going to win the war. With that miserable thought in mind and her pride boiling with anger she spat out her response, “fuck you.”

Cardan’s chuckle was dark and dangerous as he said, “with pleasure.”

Rating: M is for mature and mad filthy (but ends sweetly) (I try to trick ya in the beginning bare with it)

AN: This is my first ever fic!!!! And of course, it's Jurdan and of course, it's smut. No one is surprised. Shout out to Amber and Hannah for being my beta readers and convincing me to post this. And shout out to @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 who's beautiful writing made me go fuck it and sit down and write something myself which I've always wanted to do, so thank you keep being wonderful.

Please let me know what y'all think! I have ideas for a whole fic for this so if you want that tell me.

Inspired by these sketches and this

set during the Wicked King

warnings: hair pulling, spanking, and light bondage

AO3

As she lay sprawled out on her hands and knees, dirty, sweaty, and out of breath, it was clear to Jude Duerte that pride was her hamartia. She could have everything that she needed if she would only concede but stubbornly she refused to. Her pride wouldn't allow it, no matter how desperate she was.

Instead of the glory, she assumed she would achieve that night she lay there pathetically at his mercy. Something she deeply detested. She detested it almost as much as the smirk she could practically hear on his full lips as an infuriatingly cocky laugh rumbled out from deep in his throat. A laugh that had her toes curling and her seeing red and seething. Just as most things that came from his lips did.

Jude gritted her teeth together as she futilely attempted once more to get him to relent but the ironclad grip on her hair did not loosen and she was met with another rumble of laughter followed by a resonating smack of skin against skin. Her cheek stung from the impact and the slap made her burn red hot. The blow would surely bruise.

She hated him for this. Absolutely loathed him for it. She could easily beat him in a fight, have him on his back with a knife to his throat in less than ten seconds if she wanted. He knew that as much as she did. He probably relished in the knowledge of it, of having her here like this when she could easily best him. But she couldn’t now. Not if she wanted what she came for. Tonight her only option of getting what she needed would be to play nice. Something she was not fond of nor good at. Something that she absolutely did not want to do. Jude wanted nothing more than to make him see red as she did at that moment.

In her anger and frustration, Jude let his name snarled from her lips, “Enough of your stupid games Cardan” she nearly spat the last syllable out.

She was met with another slap, its impact sent her reeling with a groan slipping from her mouth. She hated to give away that his blow affected her at all; that groan was a loss for her. He hummed at the sound she made. Satisfied that her patience was running thin. Happy that he was getting to her. He knew he was winning. He gripped her hair tighter, tugging her head back and her lips pulled into a sneer. She could hear that fucking smirk again as he murmured into her ear with the buttery voice of a lover, “What games do you speak of my darling Jude?”

She struggled again but to no avail. The ‘my darling’ getting to her just like he knew it would. Oh, it made her burn. “You know what I’m speaking of!”

All that he smugly replied with was “Do I?” a small quip from his devastating lips.

She knew he was toying with her. Responding with questions to avoid having to speak in truths. A common trick of the fae used to deceive those around them. But Jude was having none of it.

“Give me what I want, Cardan!” it was a vicious snarl from her lips. He stilled completely at it and she knew it had been a mistake to let her temper fly. She knew he would only give her what she craved if she played by his rules and losing this prize was not an option for her. She couldn’t afford it. Jude was absolutely desperate.

He leaned in close to her ear once more and in a hushed whisper that sent a shiver, not unlike a premonition, down her spine and said, “all you have to do is ask Jude. But make it pretty, befitting of the king of fairy,” his words were an infuriating echo of what he had said to her not so long ago at the summer tournament after she had bested him in the war games. He had gripped her hair like this then too. But Jude doubted she would best him tonight.

She hated it. She hated him for this.

“Go fuck yourself,” she spat at him. He gripped her hair painfully tight this time and slapped her ass harder than he had before. The combination left a series of moans spilling out of her.

He drank up her cries like it was the fine wine they had drunk from the bottle which sat empty next to their dinner on the discarded tray situated on his bed next to them. The gaudy fabric of the comforter cushioned both of their knees, his tucked under and between hers, forcing her legs to be spread wide for him.

“But then I’d have to stop fucking you, my sweet nightmare. And I know neither one of us would want that” he looked down to where he was buried to the hilt in her, still and unmoving. His free hand massaging her red and sore butt cheeks that were bruising from his earlier abuse.

“Especially not after you were dressed up so divinely for me tonight. That dress was just begging to come off wasn’t it?” He hummed as his free hand went from massaging her sore bum to teasing her right above the nub between her thighs. So close to where she desperately needed him to be but giving her no reprieve and only making her more desperate. Jude bit her lip, refusing to respond, her stubbornness digging its heels in, so Cardan continued on.

“I could tell how wound up you were when you showed up here. With a pretty blush already on your breasts and the sweet scent of your arousal coming from your skirts with every step you took towards me.” The dress in question laid discarded on the floor beside his own clothes. It had been raven-black to match his hair, hugged her curves and muscles like a second skin, and was dangerously low cut. Definitely not her usual attire, definitely wasn't subtle Jude realized with embarrassment. Both of their wardrobes had been removed in haste not far into their dinner. The buttons of Cardan’s ridiculous blouse scattered the tiles beneath the bed, having been ripped from the fabric as Jude rushed to undress him in her lustful frenzy.

“So unusually kind of you to bring dinner and wine for me, to ask to eat in my company. I know it was all just an act to get me to fuck you, Jude. The least you could do for me is beg for it,” he whispered dangerously, his voice thick with his arousal.

Jude flushed again, this time in shame from his words. That he truly thought it out of her character to be kind. It was true of course. Jude wasn’t a very kind person, not after what she had lived through. But for some reason that was beyond her, she wanted him to think highly of her. She wanted him to think she was kind. And most bizarre of all, she wanted to be kind to him. Perhaps fairyland was driving her mortal mind mad after all.

“It wasn’t just to get you to bed me Cardan,” Jude answered ashamed of how breathy it came out, ashamed of what she was about to say, “I did want to enjoy your company tonight. I brought you dinner and wine because I thought it would make you happy.”

Jude would be damned before she begged him or anyone for anything. But if he wanted sweet words from her she would give it to him at this point. His free hands had moved upwards from tracing around her clit and had gone to circle her breasts. From time to time he would give them a brutal squeeze. More taunting but no release. Jude was a bundle of nerves wound up painfully tight. She needed her prize and she would be getting it if it was the last thing she did. She just wouldn’t beg for it.

To her surprise, he landed another searing smack to her backside sending her sliding forward and had him pulling her back onto his cock by her hair. Jude’s toes curled on the mattress, more moans spilling from her lips. She was beyond keeping them in at this point, the wine they had drunk making her dizzy, or perhaps it was just him doing that. The lust fogged her brain more than the alcohol did. She tried to slide forward again so she could push back onto his delicious length, rock hard and throbbing within her, but he held her hair tight, keeping her in place. Still no release in sight.

“Dirty mortal liar” Cardan spat at her, not believing her wishes to make him happy. Landing another brutal blow on her bum. Cardan had confessed to Jude in the court of shadows that he was no killer, but that didn’t take away from his cruel nature. He wasn't being gentle with her. Jude didn’t want him to be.

The spanking was a mercy compared to the torture he had been forcing her to endure. The sharp slaps gave her friction and reprieve from his cold refusal to please her in the ways she craved. And now because of her earlier outbursts, he remained buried in her gut unmoving and wouldn't move an inch till she begged him to. Before at least he had been in motion albeit it being painfully slow. Sliding in and out of her aching core, still slick and throbbing from his earlier ministrations with his mouth. He had spent longer feasting on her than he had on his meal, now cold and forgotten. He had tortured her with his tongue, bringing her to the edge of precipice but never allowing her to tumble over the peak into blissful oblivion.

She thought he would finally give her release when he slid his gloriously thick length inside of her but still he only taunted her. Slowly he would slide in and out of her, mocking her with what she was desperate for. He would pull out to his tip, her hair locked in his ringed hand keeping her in place while he eased back into her wetness at a punishingly slow pace. All the while knowing she was desperate for more. Each strike to her ass had been a godsend, pumping red hot arousal to her system while his little endearments, ‘my Jude’, ‘my sweet nightmare’ spurred her on. Cardan knew she secretly loved to hear them. Knew she loved hearing him call her ‘his’. Knew it made her think of all the things he could do to claim her as his; with his hands, mouth, and cock.

But they were far too alike the two of them, Cardan as prideful and stubborn as she. Jude could feel him pulsing inside her. A pounding throb in time with his heartbeat. She knew it had to be painful at this point, he was torturing himself as much as he was her. But that was part of the thrill for him. He loved the powerplay, loved toying. He wanted to come out on top; Jude couldn’t let him.

“I may be a liar Cardan but I didn’t just then. I want to make you happy.” Jude was panting as she spoke. She would never live this down. She couldn’t bring herself to care though. It was the truth. She wanted it as much as she wanted him at that moment. She hadn’t been able to rid herself of the guilt of tricking him into the crown and chaining him to the throne as well as her command. She wanted to see a smile on his face rather than the sneer that lived there most days, as breathtaking as he was with either. Jude wanted Cardan to be happy and she wanted to be the one to make him feel that way. Especially after she was the source of his misery. Although it wasn’t as though he hadn’t been the source for much of hers in the past. That alone was the only thing that kept her from begging him to give her what she so desired. That she was horny enough to even consider begging him, if he was deserving of it, was something she didn't want to think too much about.

“If you wanted to make me happy Jude,” he said her name like a curse, his frustration with her stubbornness evident, ”you would beg for me.”

She felt a ghost of a touch tickle against her arm then flee away an instant later. She peeked down as much as she could with Cardan pulling her head back like he was. Below, his tail was coiling and uncoiling. Whipping back and forth sporadically. Like a cat’s would while it attacked its prey. Before, he had the laziness of a cat who had caught a mouse; a cat that was toying its food before devouring it. Now he was agitated and ready to strike. Jude could use that.

At her refusal to respond to him Cardan tisked and lamented “well if you have nothing to ask of me, my goddess of death, then I suppose we are done here.”

He started to pull out of her as though he meant to leave her there as a panting, aching, mess with no release in sight. Her prize to be lost. She felt his tail whisper next to her arm again, just as he slid his tip out, and with the desperation of a mouse fleeing its captor, Jude latched onto his tail and ripped him back, slamming his raging length deep into her. Hard. The cross between a groan and a whimper that escaped from his lips, and the toe-curling feeling of him slamming into her made her mad with desperation and giddy with power. Jude wasn't the mouse anymore. She was a lioness; she was going to feed.

“You’ll do well to remember who put that crown on your head, My King. Begging is out of the question and will be until you are worthy of it,” she purred at him. “As your sechel, I’d advise you to please me and do it well. But, and more importantly,” she said as sweet as the fruit of the everapple tree, “As the Queen of Shadows and master of your fate I demand you do it,” she finished with a smirk, using the word ‘demand’ instead of ‘command’, so there was no true magical power over him to do so.

“And Cardan,” She said glancing over her shoulder, his grip on her hair had gone slack enough for her to do so from his shock at her actions and words, “Do make it worthy of a Queen.”

Her bravo started to wear off as the giddiness faded. It was in that moment, staring into the Achingly beautiful face of the High King, whose midnight black orbs burned like fire threatening to consume her that Jude realized her mistake. From the look of the wickedly sinister grin on his sinful lips, Jude knew would be getting her prize after all… and then some. Cardan had been playing nice until now, in hopes she would be nice in turn to him. Now that he knew there would be no such thing he was more than willing to unleash himself on her relentlessly.

What a fool she had been to forget one of the first rules of fairyland: Be careful what you wish for.

Jude would be lucky to be able to sit down or move for the next week without being sore if their last row together was any indication of how the rest of the evening would play out.

Cardan’s grip on her hair tightened again and used his free hand to trace a single finger up the curve of her spine, sending goosebumps flying in its wake. He pulled her up against his chest by her hair. Her head resting on his shoulder now, breasts pushed out to the world and peeking from the chill in the room brought on by his change in mood. Being the High King gave Cardan control over the weather and such things; no more nice Cardan who gave her sweet endearment, this was the Cardan she was most familiar with, his face the picture of icy rage.

Her breath plumed in clouds from the frigid temperature and ruffled the raven black hair sticking to the sweat on his brow. She shivered from the cold. He was so devastatingly beautiful like this it made her head spin. The sneer on his face made her toes curl knowing she was the one who had put it there.

His voice was murderous as he murmured, “Give me back my tail.”

Her grip on the thing tightened as it tried to lash out of her grip. His tone only stoked the fire burning in her gut, the heat fighting the chill of the room.

She felt the giddiness bubble up in her again, the same feeling of fear mixed with excitement that she got when she taunted him at school. The feeling of taking a dare.

“Fuck me like you were told princeling and perhaps I will,” she referred to him by the same mocking title his late siblings would call him by, all of them being more than a hundred years his senior and already have established roles in the kingdom, while he was hardly 19 and had still been in school with no real power. She was deliberately placing him beneath her by calling herself a queen and him only a boy prince, despite him being two years her senior. She felt the smugness tugging her lips when she heard his breath come out ragged and slow. He was going to great lengths to keep his temper in check, still not wanting to let her win. But Jude could taste her victory, her toes curled and her gut tingled with sharp electricity boiling there. An almost hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat, knowing that her next words would send him over the edge.

“Or perhaps you don’t know how to please a woman, hmmm?? Were all those ballads about you being a good lover just pixie dust in the breeze? Maybe the musicians of the court were just flattering you so that the fine people of fairy would think that you were actually good for something.”

It was an obvious lie and they both knew it, Cardan has had her screaming his name, soaking the sheets, and has made her a blubbering mess, nothing more than putty in his arms, much to her own shame. But the lie was an insult to his manhood nonetheless. He would have to fuck her senseless now, his honor and pride would demand it.

His grip on her hair tightened as the room rapidly started to heat back up, getting hotter by the second. Cardan was pissed now. He used his free hand to trace the curves of her body following his hand with his deadly stare. He took in every inch of her, from the blush on her cheeks that burned so bright it went straight down her neck and chest and spotted across her full breasts which were heavy and aching from her arousal. He took in Jude’s toned stomach and muscular thighs appraising them as though they were one of the powders he frequently took as though he hadn't had a dose in far too long and was itching for it. There was a furious hunger in that gaze. The stare of a recovering alcoholic glaring at the bottle before he dived to the bottom of it. Furious for even wanting it, furious for going back to it, furious for having said no to it for so long when it felt so right. He was going to give into Jude even if she didn’t beg him for it. He was pissed about it.

His tracing hand slowly inched towards the numb of nerves between Jude’s thighs, her hair tugged back on his shoulder allowed him to hear the airy sigh that befell her lips, tickling his hair. Her airy moan sounded like one someone would heave when they stepped into a steaming bath after a long day of hard work, easing their aching muscles. That wouldn't do at all. There would be no easing for her. If she wanted to step in that tub then Cardan was going to shove her in and force her head under the water and keep it there till she was thrashing for air. If she wouldn't beg him to start, then she would have to beg him to stop.

Cardan leaned in and whispered to her ear, using all of his willpower to keep his temper in check, “Fitting for a Queen you said hmm,” the words sent shivers running down her spine, had her walls clenching around his cock that was still buried in her, to her great dismay still not in motion.

Cardan paused to take a breath and for a moment the whole room stilled as though his magic had quieted the very air around them, as if the whole kingdom was tingling in anticipation, silently waiting to see what happened next. Even the roaring fire that was crackling in its hearth just seconds prior didn’t dare to make a sound, lest it invokes the wrath of the wicked king. The only noise was Jude’s ragged breathing in eerie contrast.

Cardan’s words eased out in his exhale, resembling the sickening woop in the stomach one gets when falling from large heights, “How's this for fitting?”

Jude’s eyes were blown wide and then forced tightly shut as he unleashed himself onto her. The sounds of the room roaring back to life around them were completely lost to her as the brutally aching bliss filled her to the brim. The sensations were overpowering her, overwhelming her senses after being denied it for so long. The feeling of his length filling her to the brim combined with his sinful hands, one tugging her hair the other rubbing her nub; It was too much. Cardan’s hand was brutal in its attack on her clit, rubbing her relentlessly right where she wanted it, just the way she liked it.

The act alone was more than enough and already toying her towards the edge of release. Cardan knew Jude’s body far too well. He had spent plenty of time tracking all her tells, tracking every breath she took while she lay beneath him from the first moment she welcomed him into her bed. His dark hungry eyes always locked on her taking everything in. Cardan was a fantastic lover not just because he knew how to please any woman who passed his way, but because he went to lengths to perfect his craft for those who stayed.

Jude realized with no little shame that he had been saying something to her but she had missed it because of the roaring in her ear. Her cheeks went impossibly pinker when she realized it hadn't been roaring, but her own moaning. She hadn't even realized she was doing it so overcome by her arousal after being denied all night. She glanced up at him and all she could stupidly say was, “huh?”

He barked a laugh, his head thrown back; he loved making her like this. Knocking Ms. Know-it-all off her pedestal, making her dumb-founded and drooling. Such a sharp contrast to her usual stoic demeanor. He leaned down close to her face, slowly licked up the dribble of spit hanging from the corner of her mouth. Then with a wicked smirk on his sinful face, one that promised nothing but trouble, he went to her ear and snickered, “you’re as soaked for me as you were when I shoved you into that river mortal.”

As he said it he rubbed her just so, sending her shuddering relentlessly into an orgasm around his unmoving cock. The orgasm shattered her mind and made her see white, then instantly red from the fury his word sent her into. She hated that he made her come while he said that. Knew he had done it on purpose to piss her off. Knew it was the damning truth since no lie could fall from his fairy lips. Bliss, anger, and shame all swelled within her swirling together and muddling her mind in ways fairy fruit never could. Jude felt as though she might fade into the very magic of fairyland at that moment for surely if one could be magic itself, this would be how they always felt.

Jude couldn’t even get a word in back at him for what he said because he slammed his mouth against hers before she could recover enough to form a coherent sentence; licking and drinking up her moans like it was his only purpose in life. His other hand moved from restraining her hair and wrapped around her middle, pinning the arm holding his tail to her side in an ironclad hold and pinning her body against chest; his hand reaching up to attack her breasts. Switching back and forth between one and the other, he would alternate massaging and pinching her nipples with painful precision. His other hand was still working her clit sending her rolling from one orgasm into the next. The combination of it all was so overwhelming she cried out into his mouth as she squirted all over his hands, soaking their legs and the sheets beneath them. Jude was awash with shame and bliss, leaning her full weight on him to remain upright. He hadn’t even begun to fuck her properly yet, Cardan was still buried within her throbbing painfully from denying himself and she was already a stupid mess in his arms. The shit-eating smirk on his face told her that he was thinking the same thing.

Jude was a fool for try to best Cardan here. She may be a cunning spy and a swords master but the bedroom and lovemaking was his domain. Her legs quivered beneath her, hands limp at her side. Cardan released his hold on her, sending her falling ungracefully forward onto her chest and face. He laughed at her mockingly, “and now the sheets are nearly as soaked as your clothes were that day.”

Jude’s blood boiled and she wanted to turn around and slap him. But as she went to move she found herself unable to. While she hadn’t been looking, brain hazy from her orgasms, the roots from the tree atop the hill had curled their way down the bedposts and snaked their way across the sheets wrapping around her wrists binding her in place. Another display of his kingly magic. Jude tried to figure where she went wrong, one moment she was the one with power and now here she was again, completely at his mercy and more so than before. The answer to her question flicked back and forth in the periphery of her vision, his tail moving again like a lazy cat playing a game it knew it was going to win. He had made her come so hard she completely lost her senses and touched the stars and managed to release her one and only advantage.

“Thank you for returning my tail to me sweet Jude,” he said, noting her coming to this realization. His hand returned to her hair pulling her head back as much as he could while her hands were bound. He shifted, leaning forward shifting his body causing his cock to finally move within her once more; it was enough to make her lose a breathy moan. Oh! The frustration she felt with herself! She was a fool for him and it was humiliating. His other hand went back to massaging her bruised bum as he chuckled darkly behind her.

“Shall we continue?” he asked in a voice of innocence that certainly seemed akin to lying with how far innocence was from his intentions. Jude was still miserably horny, and not even the two earth-shattering orgasms he had given her were able to satiate her need after all the torture he had put her through earlier. She craved him desperately but her wounded pride couldn't bear to ask him to go on. She tried to shift her bum against his length again, the same attempts she had earlier, knowing it was just as futile now as it had been before. He laughed at her, slamming his palm hard against her ass just as he had done each time before.

“Excuse me, your majesty,” he purred, mocking her for calling herself a queen while pumping into her once, twice. Teasing her, making her nails dig into the bound palms of her hands in ecstasy, “I believe I asked you a question, my queen.”

Another endearment. Him calling her his. His queen. She squirmed again, willing him to please her but he held fast.

“Last chance Jude,” he murmured in her ear, leaning all the way forward so his cocked filled her completely, “Beg for mercy and I’ll give it to you,” the smirk was as present as ever in his infuriatingly sexy voice.

Jude had underestimated Cardan. She got her prize, she had won the battle, but he was going to win the war. With that miserable thought in mind and her pride boiling with anger she spat out her response, “fuck you.”

Cardan’s chuckle was dark and dangerous as he said, “with pleasure.”

He slammed into her unrelenting: brutal and hard. Jude was going to have to skip training tomorrow because of this, her body would be too sore. She hated missing training and it made her furious at him. Perhaps she just liked being made at him, she thought as he hit her spot over and over again making her see spots. She went to bury her moans and cries in the covers, still damp beneath them from when she squirted, but he pulled her hair back forcing her to cry out into the room for him to hear.

“Moan for me Queen Jude,” he gruffed out viciously, riled up and ravenous after having to wait so long himself to have her, “let me hear how worthy this fucking is of you hmm.. this is what you wanted wasn't it? A good fucking? It's what you came here for.”

He was relentless, Jude was biting her lip trying hard to not give him what he wanted. The wet sloppy sound of their bodies joining together echoed in the room in time with the slapping of his pelvis against her ass. It was debauched to hear how sinfully wet she was for him, the wet slapping making it painfully evident just how ‘worthy’ his fucking was. She groaned through her teeth and he yanked her hair hard forcing her mouth open. Her moans came spilling out, pitching each time he thrust his body into hers.

Cardan was groaning with her now. He was getting close if his sporadic thrusts were any indicator. The knowledge that he was getting off to her made her walls clench around him and her toes curl in pleasure, forcing a groan from deep in his throat to spill out. It was otherworldly, doing this with him, so many emotions, sensations, and feelings all swirling together in a messy lustful haze that left them rutting like savage dogs by the end of the night. They hated each other, didn't they? How could they keep coming back to each other like this? Why did this feel so right?

He pulled her hair back hard making her back bend almost painfully towards him, her wrists straining against the vines that bound her; training was definitely out of the question this week. She could see his face now, brows pinched, eyes dark, sweat dripping off of him while his mouth hung open. He was devastatingly gorgeous like this. He leaned down and kissed her as he landed three sharp blows to her ass with his other hand as he pounded into her relentlessly. She squirted again seeing stars as another orgasm ran through her. He smiled a brilliant smile down at her for it. So beautiful that she all but forgot her pride existed as she said breathily, “I didn’t come here just to fuck you Cardan, I swear it,” blush burning her cheeks at her confession, “I wanted to make you happy.”

She felt emotions shining on her face, ones she always buried but she didn’t mind it. Jude was mad with pleasure, drunk on his kiss, his scent, and sensations. Jude was drunk on him. Caution was lost to her.

Cardan’s eyes went wide at her words and he released her hair suddenly. A swear was a serious thing in Fairy especially one made to the high king. The vines receded from restraining her and he unsheathed himself from her aching core. She was met with a jolt of horror at what she had done, what she had said, in fear that she had upset him.

The panic was quickly replaced by confusion as he rolled her onto her back with tender hands and then leaned above her positioning himself between her legs with one arm bracing beside her head while his other hand came up to tenderly caressing her cheek. His cock was positioned right before her entrance, leaking with precum. He clearly had stopped right before his climax. What on earth compelled him to do such a thing?

“Is that the truth?” he said in a breathy whisper, chest still heaving from their wild fuckings, still trying to catch his breath.

All Jude could manage was a small nod.

His eyes searched hers, looking for something. Jude didn’t know if he found what he was looking for but after a moment he slowly slid into her again staring into her eyes. She wanted to look away, his gaze was too much as he slowly and sweetly slid their bodies together, again and again. He was being tender with not a rush in the world. A different kind of fire started building within her. Instead of a burning inferno like earlier, this one was the slow-burning of water set to boil. His dark gaze was searching, consuming. His beautiful face slack in awe as he looked at her.

“Beautiful,” he murmured like wonder spilling out of him. Jude snapped her eyes shut to it, to what she felt. She felt naked for the first time today despite having been freed of her clothing for the better part of two hours now. The way he was holding her, the way their bodies slid together, it terrified her, the emotions it stirred up. He cooed at her then, fingers caressing her cheek, “Jude,” he said sweetly, “look at me Jude, it's okay.”

She scrunched her eyes shut further at his words. He stilled, pulling away from her. He heaved a sigh, that sounded so much like hurt and disappointment. Quickly, shyly her hand reached out to the ringed one on her cheek just as it went to pull away. Softly Jude said, “Please-- Please don’t stop.”

Jude mustered all the courage she had, reached into the well of fearlessness she had obtained from living in fairyland, and opened her eyes. Dark pools the color of midnight stared back at her, full of swimming emotion. It was overwhelming, confusing. She wished she knew what he was thinking, wished she knew if this meant something. There was so much fear in her and she knew he could see it all on her face. She was so scared of this, “Please Cardan, keep going. Please. I-- I beg you.”

The smile that graced his shocked face was beautiful and hesitant like the one someone might make if they thought something was too good to be true. She shocked herself with the plea, she had never thought she could long for someone the way that she did at that moment. She wished she knew what he was thinking. She peeked to his tail in hope of gaining some insight, but it was wrapped around her calf, the furred tip seemed to be caressing her. She looked back up at him. Cardan was smirking, but it wasn't mocking, it seemed… endearing almost. But that couldn’t be. He clearly knew why Jude looked at his tail, knowing she liked keeping an eye on it because it made him easier to read. The crinkles beneath his eyes gave away happiness and his smirk tugged into a dazzling smile.

Jude’s heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt. He ran his hand down from her cheek to her chest, feeling how fast it was pounding. His smile only grew, as he leaned down and nuzzled his nose against hers. Jude let loose a breath she didn't know she had been holding, it came spilling out of her like an airy laugh, her lashes fluttering at his closeness. He was being so sweet, it threw her off guard. She peeked into his eyes once more, she didn't really know what she was looking for in them. But she knew what she did not find there: his arrogance, his cruelty, and his wickedness.

There in his dark eyes, she saw something she didn't understand yet. Saw something shining there that she knew reflected back in her own. Confusion mingled with an emotion she had never known before. She realized she didn't understand a lot of things, about life, fairyland, and him. From the look in his eyes, she realized she didn't need to understand everything. And with that realization, she wasn't afraid anymore. She peered into his eyes unabashedly now, Belkin’s words from in the Isle of the Forgotten rang in her head:

“to mortals, the feeling of falling in love is similar to the feeling of fear.”

But what do mortals feel when they stop falling. What happens when they were wholly in love.

Jude didn’t know, and she didn’t care to know. She didn’t need to understand everything, she didn’t need to understand what she felt. She needed to just feel it.

If nothing else, Jude felt safe here in Cardan’s arms. A feeling that she had long grown unaccustomed to thanks to the cruelty of her life. She looked at the man before her, so similar to yet so strikingly different from the boy he was under Belkin’s thumb. This was a man who she wanted to make happy. And despite his uncanny ability to frustrate her, he had the uncanny ability to make her happy as well. He made her forget her pride and she made him forget his own. Neither caring who came out on top anymore. Maybe it was just the sex, maybe it was something more. She didn’t know and somehow that was fine.

With those thoughts singing in her head, Jude Duerte leaned up and kissed Cardan Greenbriar soft and slow, allowing all the things she kept buried within her to come pouring out. Allowing all the things she didn’t understand to pour out with it because perhaps Cardan didn’t understand it either. Perhaps they could learn to understand it together.

So that night, Jude waved the white flag and she made love to the King of Fairy.

[dreamcatcher139]

A FEW LIES AND THE TRUTH - part III.

Author’s note: A non-canon Rafe x female reader story.

This is a part when things finally start happening. Still not really happy with how it turned out.

Warnings: slight swearing I guess, my bad English as always.

Check out other parts here.

                                               III.

You were still driving around in your car when your radio went silent, signaling the playlist was over.

You hated looking at your phone while driving (you never liked being irresponsible), but you hated driving in silence even more. Especially when the thoughts in your head were so loud.

Music is your form of therapy. You like listening to whatever music you enjoy at the moment and usually singing along very loudly, while aimlessly driving around the island. Other times it’s just nice sorting your thoughts out with a nice musical background.

Your eyes fell on the playlist Rafe sent you via Spotify a few weeks ago. You two have similar taste in music, which was another surprising fact about him that you learned accidentally. That wasn’t exactly the case with Sarah. She was always more into popular and mainstream artists (which you have nothing against), while you like discovering new artists and not-so-popular music. You enjoyed the 70s and 80s music as well.

So how did you find out Rafe liked the same music as you?

He was coming home from college for an extended weekend, and there was no one to pick him up at the airport. Ward and Rose were working, and Sarah was hanging out with some people from the Cut she met a few days ago (her phone lying forgotten at the bottom of her backpack). You weren’t with her that day because you were helping your mom clean the house, knowing there will be parties to attend the aforementioned weekend.

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket as Rafe’s plea to come and pick him up at the airport came through. You quickly finished wiping the bathroom floor, and then decided to change into something that didn’t reek of detergent. Grabbing your car keys that were lying on the cabinet in the foyer, your hand was already on the doorknob when your mom’s voice ringed through the house.

“(Y/N)? Where are you going?”

“I’m picking Rafe up at the airport!” You shouted back so that she could hear you. You were hoping you’d done enough cleaning, and she wouldn’t mind you leaving the house for the first time that day.

“Will you be home for dinner?”

“Yes!” You smiled and with that, left for the airport.

- - -

A smile spread across Rafe’s face once he spotted your car approaching him.

“Get in loser!” You shouted as you pulled over.

He quickly put all his bags in the back of your car and jumped in the passenger seat. You noticed he brought a lot of stuff for just one weekend.

“Did you miss me?” He asked once his seatbelt was fastened, the blue of his eyes immediately washing over you like a wave of refreshment, making you forget what you were thinking about just a second ago.

“Not really, no.” You replied, trying to be as serious as possible while biting back a smile. That was a lie.

As you tried to give him an annoyed look, you realized he looked kind of different. Good different. His hair wasn’t slicked back, and he looked like he was working out. College seemed to do him good.

“Good, I didn’t miss you either.” Rafe’s smile only grew bigger while you untucked the hair behind your ears to cover the fact that they started reddening under his gaze. You had no idea where all this shyness was coming from. Seeing him for the first time in three months suddenly gave you this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“How many fights did you start since the last time I saw you?” You asked him jokingly, in an attempt to keep the conversation going and the flutter inside your chest steady.

You knew about Rafe’s unexplainable urge to always establish dominance. He still hasn’t opened up about it completely, but you hoped he wasn’t acting the same as when he was home. You wished college changed that aspect of him, too.

“Maybe one or two.” He paused. “Three tops.”

After offering you a silly smile, Rafe decided to change the subject before the conversation got too serious.

“So, what are we listening to today?” He grabbed your phone, which was already connected to the radio in your car via Bluetooth.

You looked at him like he was a crazy person.

“What?” He asked, furrowing his brows, not knowing what was wrong.

“Going through someone’s music library is the second most intimate thing you can do.” You explained.

Not many people have the access to your music unless you’re asked to play something. But you’re usually not the one to be the DJ because, as mentioned earlier, you don’t listen to a lot of mainstream music. Also, not many people know the songs you like to play (which only make you more cautious when choosing whose eyes will roam through your playlists).

“Right, sorry.” He said, surprisingly agreeing with you. “Can I connect my phone then and play some music?”

“Sure.” You said. “But know that not a lot of phones have the privilege to be connected to my radio.” You gave him a meaningful look, and he smiled to himself.

You make my dreams (come true) was the first song he chose to play, and the rest was history. You ended up driving around (taking a long way home) because you liked the songs he played. A lot of them you already knew. Rafe wasn’t ashamed to sing along, encouraging you to do the same and quickly turning the situation into a carpool karaoke.

He occasionally stole glances toward your figure behind the steering wheel. Your hair was flying around your face, battling the wind that was blowing through the opened windows. Your eyes were sparkling, almost as if some lyrics touched your soul. He noticed the rosy tint to your cheeks made him feel some weird type of way. He thought about how he hadn’t felt that carefree and light in months as your laughter echoed in his ears. Was he happy? The feeling was new; the unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest every time you looked over and sang directly to him.

At the end of that car ride, you showed him your music library and agreed on sending each other new playlists and artists as soon as you discover something good. Rafe was happy that he managed to break down a wall, while at the same time, you were once again surprised you let him in so quickly.

- - - 

Later that night, you heard a familiar buzz. It was your phone vibrating on your nightstand. You were lying on your bed, watching some stupid show on your laptop, and lazily looked over to your phone. You thought Sarah’s messages were blowing up your phone.

Instead, your phone kept vibrating, and the caller ID was Rafe.

“Miss me already? I just dropped you off like two hours ago.” You answered teasingly, but the silence on the other side of the line was concerning. No funny comeback.

“Rafe?” You sat up on your bed.

“Hey.” His voice was raspy. “Can you come outside? I’m here.”

You got up and moved closer to your window, which had a nice view over your street. Looking outside, you immediately noticed Rafe, who was frantically biting the skin around his nails, looking like a mess.

“What happened?” You asked, seriously starting to worry.

As soon as he saw you in the window, he hung up and motioned for you to come down. You were annoyed by the tension of not knowing why he looked so shaken up but did as he wanted.

“Rafe, what the fuck?” You cursed as you stepped out in the cool April night, hugging the cardigan you had on tighter around your body.

“I dropped out of college.” He stated dead-serious, but his eyes gave him away. They were drowning in panic.

“You what?” You asked a little too loud, your own eyes widening in surprise.

He was looking at your face intensely, carefully assessing your features. He was probably searching for disappointment, but you were just confused. That was the first time you heard him talk about dropping out of college. He never even mentioned thinking about it, and you guys talked (about everything) almost every day while he was away.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” You asked, your voice coming out incredibly gentle.  

“I don’t know. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me too.” He shrugged.

He looked really sad. He appeared almost defeated, standing there with his shoulders slouched and gaze fixed on his shoes.

“I’m not disappointed, Rafe.” Your words made him move his eyes from the floor back to your face. “I’m just surprised because you never mentioned it before.”

“Yeah, I know. I was thinking about it for a while now and just decided to do it.” He sighed. “Dad is furious. We just had the biggest fight ever; I think he might actually kick me out of the house this time.”

Rafe’s eyes appeared glossy as if he could start crying right then and there. The boy was falling apart in front of you. That was the moment you realized that he trusted you so much to let you see him like this. Rafe Cameron would never show sadness or any kind of emotion, for that matter, in front of anyone. He was too proud to do it, and he had a reputation to preserve. And most definitely would not cry in public. He never even cried in front of his best buds Topper and Kelce.

It hurt you seeing him like this, so you automatically wrapped your arms around his body, not thinking before your actions for a second.

Shit.

You didn’t know if physical touch was allowed with Rafe. You may be friends, but you never hugged or anything like that before. Did you cross the line?

Rafe Cameron felt as if he was struck by lightning. The feeling of your arms wrapping around him sent a pleasant tingling sensation all the way down to his fingertips. He was a bit stiff for a moment, completely caught off guard by your actions. But then he slowly gave in, feeling himself relaxing under your comforting touch.

He wrapped both his arms around you, careful not to squeeze you too tight. He felt your chest rising and falling against him, the sound of your breathing calming him down. You managed to unlock another new feeling in a single day, and Rafe wasn’t sure he could handle it.

The solace.

You were right about Rafe not really being a touchy person, but that was because no one really ever gave him a sincere hug or gently rubbed his back to calm him down. He didn’t know the power behind holding someone’s hand or playing with someone’s hair.

He suddenly felt so much better. You were both surprised by how natural the hug was after the initial shock.

“People drop out of college all the time.” You started, slowly disconnecting from him. “It’s not the end of the world. You are allowed to change your mind or press pause if you feel overwhelmed.”

He slowly nodded his head. He could feel the ghost of your touch on his torso.

“So why’d you drop out?” You carefully asked the question you wanted to know the answer to the most.

You spontaneously started walking down the street, and he followed your lead, mentally agreeing that a walk would be nice right now.

“I didn’t really like that business school. I don’t think it’s the right thing for me, honestly.” He admitted.

“That’s OK. Did you try explaining that to Ward?” You pressed the conversation further.

“Well, you know how he never listens to what I have to say, (Y/N).” Rafe frowned. “He’s super angry now and feels personally attacked because I don’t wanna do the same thing he does. And now I’m the disgrace to the family, I won’t be able to take over his business, and I’m his only son…” He released an irritated huff. “I think I really disappointed him this time.”

“Do you regret it?” You asked, your eyes automatically scanning his face for a reaction. “Do you regret dropping out?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I just wasn’t feeling it. It’s not what I want. It’s what my dad wants.” He answered honestly, slightly shrugging his shoulders.

You let a moment of silence fall over your bodies, listening to the rustling of leaves around you.

“You know, you’re not a disgrace to your family.”

You knew how much pressure Ward was putting on his son. They were always fighting. Basically, because Rafe was just a boy and still growing up, but Ward wanted him to be a man and take over his job. He had this whole plan about who Rafe was supposed to be, and the slightest error was causing him to lose his shit.

“Your father is putting too much pressure on you, and you know it.” You continued. “He’s always making you feel guilty about everything, even the stuff that is not directly your fault. He’s expecting too much of you.” You fought the urge to grab Rafe’s hand and made him look into your eyes to be more convincing.

“You need to realize you’re just 19, Rafe because he’s definitely not aware of it. You’re young! You need to have fun, explore your options, and find yourself. One thing is wanting a good future for your kids. Another thing is frantically planning out every detail of their life and controlling everything. You have the right to be your own person, and not someone Ward pictured in his head even before you were born.”

Rafe is the way he is on the outside because of his father. He needs to act tough. He needs to look like he has his shit together, and since his own dad is constantly harassing him at home, he needs to be strong in front of everyone else. It was all a perfect façade for someone who is actually hurting inside. You didn’t know why Rafe decided to let his guard down around you, but you realized all of this because he did.

What you didn’t know was that Rafe felt like you brought an impossibly bright light to every dark place inside of him that he showed you. You somehow always manage to make everything feel alright. He was grateful because you never judged him, and he felt like he could be himself around you. He could finally be what he needed to be: just a normal guy.

“Thank you.” He said after a few moments of silence. “I know you know me and my family well enough to be speaking the truth.”

A few seconds passed, and only the sounds of your shoes touching the concrete were heard.

“So you’re not disappointed in me?” He looked over, searching for any sign of you being mad at him.

“No, silly.” You gently tried to push him, but he (as expected) didn’t budge at all.

“I told you! A lot of people drop out of college. I’m actually pretty proud of you because you were brave enough to admit to yourself that you don’t want this thing that your family imposed on you.” You offered him a small smile. “I just hope you will take this free time to really think about what you want to do with your life. That’s important, right?” You slightly nodded your head. “Because having a job you don’t like is pretty tiring, don’t you think? You’ll have to do it for the rest of your life.”

Rafe stopped walking, so you did the same. His eyes were soft as he studied your face in a new way. Something you’ve never seen him do before.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked quietly.

“Why are you the best person I know?” He counter-questioned, his words luring a smile to your face. “You always know what to say. You’re so reasonable and real. And you’re pretty much the biggest support I have in my life.”

“I just like charity work, Cameron, don’t flatter yourself.” You said jokingly, ruining the moment. You didn’t really know how to take this sudden burst of affection.

There was a small smile forming in the corners of his lips. You finally managed to make him feel better about the whole situation, and you took it as a big win.

Surprisingly, he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you in another hug. Your face was pressed against his chest, his chin resting on top of your head as he gently rocked you from left to right. Two hugs in one night? You didn’t know what was going on, but you couldn’t complain.

“I’m going to suffocate.” Your voice was muffled against his hoodie.

That was a lie. You weren’t sure you ever wanted to stop breathing in his familiar scent or being this close to him, as he reluctantly let you go. You always knew how to ruin the moment by saying something stupid. Even if you did suffocate, that would be a nice way to go.

Just as your bodies separated, your phone started ringing again, completely destroying the intimacy of the moment you just shared.

“That’s probably my stupid sister.” Rafe stated.

And he was right. It was Sarah calling you.

“Alright, don’t get into any more trouble.” You pointed a finger at him, and he raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, you finally answered the phone and started walking away from Rafe, waving him goodbye. Sarah talked about a boy named John B and how you needed to meet him and his friends as soon as possible.

Part IV.

You absorbed every word she said, already mentally preparing yourself for meeting her new friends tomorrow afternoon.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Tags: @totallynotkaibiased​ 

[goldentsum]

— oh my empress: aoba johsai palace

CHARACTERS: oikawa tooru, iwaizumi hajime, matsukawa issei, hanamaki takahiro

TAGS: suggestive themes, smut, angst, historical au where women have the ‘superior’ status, pet names, ‘cheating’ but is it really cheating tho? idk empress x concubines have such confusing relationship status, unrequited love, dom-ish! empress! reader, concubine! males, praising

ROUTE: aoba johsai palace: you are here. 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this idea was lurking in my mind every single day so i tried to write it HAHAHAHA very angsty tho. unedited bleghhh :p 

— oikawa ♡

• a clingy concubine!! he fr thinks that yall should just make it official official so that he can stand by you in the throne room as your one and only man 

• he’ll talk smack about the other concubines. it’s canon.

• also, oikawa knows all the gossip in the palace

• oikawa always tells you that he loved you even when you two were younger and no one can ever love you like he loves you

• when he was younger, his mother is one of the officials in court and the woman always brought him along

• and before he knew it, it was normal for him to go to court with his mother. 

• oh how he remembers it clearly. you in that soft white kimono, smiling brightly as you giggle, while your handmaidens gently pushing you on the swing. your perfectly adorned hair framing your pretty face. 

• you were so beautiful and oikawa just can’t help but know you. though as a male, it would be proven difficult, but his mother was one of the officials and tried to talk to you

• oikawa thought at first that you were a child of another official too and to his big surprise, you were the crown princess! 

• you still tease him to this day about how cocky he was at first, trying to impress you. 

• he loves it when you spend time with him and go to his room for procreating...

• it always feels like you’ve chosen him. chose him to spend your limited free time with him among your many concubines 

• maybe in the future, he can be your prince like you are his glowing empress.

“your highness, i’m really happy that you’re here...” he hic-ed, his lips trembling as he looked up at you with a red blush on his face. his once immaculate kimono draped his body loosely while you run your hands up and down his chest, admiring the milky and soft skin. 

you smiled at him and leaned down, placing a small kiss on his forehead making him gasp. you softly whispered against his skin, “i’m here, sweet prince” 

oikawa whimpered softly, heart beating harshly at the sweet pet name as tears pricked his eyes. your hands trailed down his stomach, feeling his clenching muscles. you leaned further down, trailing hot wet kisses on his neck, and slowly started grinding on top of him. 

the pretty male gasped, his hands flying up to wrap his arms around you. you chuckled at his reaction and the prominent hard-on that was nudging your thigh. 

“such a cute reaction you have, sweet prince~” you teased, your hot breath hitting oikawa’s sensitive neck. you let your hand go to his hair, running through the messy tresses and your nails scratching his scalp gently. oikawa’s eyes rolled to his skull and letting his head hung back, giving you more space to his neck. his hips jerking when you continued the slow and agonizing pace of your grinding. 

“p-please... y-your highness... touch me more..” he whispered, the massive blush on his skin so delectable. you smiled and faced him. oikawa’s half-lidded eyes stared at you with love and need. you placed a soft kiss on his lips making him moan. the kiss turned messy and hot in an instant. 

oikawa opened his mouth, letting your slick tongue in. you swallowed his moans when you started playing with his tongue and your fingers thumbing his nipples. his kimono rustled and crumpled as you moved it off his shoulders. 

tooruu loves you so much that it hurts. your soft touch wasn’t making it easier for him to deny you. he tried to shove the feelings he had for you but whenever you smiled at him, it starts to build up again. 

it was as easy as that. you had him wrapped around your fingers and you don’t even know. 

his hands clenching your red kimono as if he were to loosen even just a bit, you’d disappear. just like before...

— iwaizumi ♡

• an intellectual concubine who deals with affairs in court!

• the other concubines are scared of him! 

• but he doesn’t know that so shhh! this baby thinks that they’re just shy and just didn’t know him so they talk to him

• iwaizumi wants to be useful to you. not just a baby maker who comes and goes. 

• he never intended to fall in love with you. he really didn’t. he became a concubine because oikawa dragged him into it when the former was up for the exam. 

• iwaizumi relented because he thought if he’s at court, he can do something about the oppression that was happening around towards males. 

• he wants to change it and he thought that he was just a mere concubine in your court so he can do something about it without having to deal with you. you were an empress that embraced and welcomed many men in your court. 

• though, he didn’t know how much he was able to feel so loved when he met you. 

• so his objective changed, though only a little. he wants to be called as your lover that changed the views of society. 

• but he admits that there was a lot of competition in court. most especially for your affection and attention. iwaizumi saw a lot of other males ruining and fighting when you were not present. 

• but he won’t participate in it, he won’t stoop so low. though when another concubine started telling lies about you having favorites and being unfair, he mayhaps fought talked with him. 

“y-your majesty! we can’t do this here!” iwaizumi gasped, placing a shaky hand on your arm as you pressed him against the shelves of your private library

you chuckled and leaned against him, trailing kisses with your lips on his neck. you felt him shiver when you placed a wet kiss on his pulse while your hands groped and caressed his body through his thick kimono. 

“why not?~” you asked, biting his ear. iwaizumi gasped, his knees buckling a bit while he supported himself on the shelf. iwaizumi always tells you that you shouldn’t waste your time with him. he was so different from the usual concubines in your court. he wasn’t pretty nor delicate like them... but that what makes him so addicting to you. 

“i think you deserve a break, sweetie~ i heard all about your accomplishment in my court. may i say how impressed i am” you cooed and leaned a bit to face him. you looked him straight in his eyes making him a little shy at your unwavering gaze that was filled with adoration. 

iwaizumi closed his eyes tightly and hugged you, hiding his warm face in your neck. it was inappropriate to just hug the empress like this and normally, he wouldn’t do this but he just felt so much in the moment. 

he made you proud. you’re proud of him. it was all for you. you. 

iwaizumi heard you chuckled, feeling the light vibration through his clothes. he felt you lean away and he let you. you pressed your forehead against his, caressing his warm red cheek. “you worked hard, hajime” 

the man whimpered and pressed a hard and needy kiss on your lips as you hummed in approval. he let you guide him through the kiss as your tongue slithered in his cavern, playing with his tongue. 

god, you tasted so good. your lips felt heavenly against him. if he can, he’ll kiss you forever. 

your hand trailed up to his hair, massaging his scalp and he moaned into the kiss. you felt the hard nudge against your thigh which make you smirk, as much as you can while kissing. 

you then jutted your leg between his, your thigh pressing against his hard-on. iwaizumi gasped, holding onto you. 

he looked into you and he shivered when he saw your dark gaze as your eyes swirled with lust. 

before he can do anything, a voice called out from the door outside. “your highness? the court awaits for you in the throne room” 

you sighed in annoyance but slowly removed your body away from iwaizumi which made the male whine unconsciously at the lost of your heat. you smiled at him and held his face, swiping your thumb lightly against his pink lips. “i’ll see you later, sweets~” and went out of the library, leaving him alone in silence and with his thoughts. 

the male sighed.

hajime knows he can’t make you love him like he loves you but that’s okay. as long as he gets to be by your side, it’s okay. it really was okay... to be able to hold you was a miracle for him and he ended up loving you way too much. 

not many would remember him and his work in your court but he wishes something more than anything else.

when all of these moments pass and he’s all but a grain in the wide earth, he hopes that the world can remember how much he loved you. 

— matsukawa ♡

• mattsun doesn’t know how he got in your court tbh

• he was just lounging around his estate then his mother slammed his door open and told him he’s gonna be a concubine for the empress

• at first he doesn’t know what to feel cus a concubine? for the empress? him? fr? 

• though when he met you, you were kinda intimidating tbh. he was nervous because he knows the status of men in court and in society in general. 

• but when he found out that you were chill about it and actually cared about him well them? 

• he mayhaps softened

• mattsun is usually seen in the garden with makki, just talking shit about some desperate concubines they see around

• when you started visiting him in the palace he resides in with the other 3, he thought he was sick with how fast his heart was beating.

• he never really paid any attention to other women, finding them annoying with how boasty they get about their status whenever he’s in a match-making visit.

• but you talked to him like he was a human being, like you see him for him and not his status in society. 

• when mattsun gets comfortable, he’s very tease-y because he likes hearing you laugh. call him whipped but he doesn’t care. 

• he wants to see your bright eyes looking at him. him. just him. your smile sent towards his way. 

• when you consummated that one night for the first time, he got overwhelmed with the way you were soft and let him lead though still maintaining your aura of authority. 

• whenever he thinks about that night, the butterflies in his stomach starts again. mattsun would thank his mother right now if he can for letting him have the opportunity to meet you and to actually hold you. 

you chuckled when he started pecking your face with multiple kisses as his larger body pressed against yours, pinning you down in the soft and thick futon in his room in the palace. 

“still so clingy, issei~” you teased but the male only hummed with a small and warm smile on his lips while he continues to litter your face and neck with his kisses. you felt his warm hands touch your skin softly, the feeling of his soft hands on your body always made you feel a little softer. 

you reached up and held his face, squishing it so that his lips were all pouty. you laughed at his expression and kissed his lips. 

mattsun could feel it again. the butterflies in his stomach. the harsh beating of his heart. he hoped that you wouldn’t hear it. he wants to maintain this calm and apathetic that goes with the flow kind of vibe. 

if you knew how much he loved you, he doesn’t know what he would do. these feelings were too much for the young man. 

mattsun wants to be with you all the time, he wants to feel you all the time. to have and to hold you. 

when you released your hold on his face to run your fingers through his hair and massaging the back of his neck, he started kissing you deeper. 

he swiped his tongue on your bottom lip, asking for permission. you hummed and opened your mouth which he eagerly accepted. 

his hands then held your thighs, squeezing and fondling the thick meat. matsukawa groaned into the kiss when you wrapped your legs around his waist, making his groin press against your heat. at the small action, he started kissing you more feverishly, his hands touching every skin and starting to remove your kimono. 

so needy. desperate even. to touch you. to feel you again. to sink into the delusion that you two were two lovesick couple in your own small little world. 

you chuckled, albeit muffled by matsukawa’s lips still working against yours, you let your legs drop from his waist making him whine and break the kiss in confusion. 

“i thought we were finished and you’re letting me go back?” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck loosely. issei rolled his eyes playfully, though he knows he shouldn’t but you just felt so familiar and you make him sp comfortable in your presence that it scared him a little because he does all sorts of things. 

“i am~ but you’re making it a little harder than usual, my empress” he teased back, bumping his nose against yours while his lazy smirk that you loved so much appeared in his lips. 

“am i?~” you bit back, replying with your own smirk. mattsun let his eyes drop and go to your lips. mesmerized by it. it was so red. so beautiful. so soft. so kissable. 

“well you have to let me go, issei. you hogged me for the whole day, needy~” you poked his cheek which he bit playfully making you chuckle. mattsun let go of your finger and placed a small kiss on it. “well, i am your favorite right? i have the right to take your time~” he teased again

“of course” you whispered, stroking his face. mattsun’s eyes softened at that and leaned closer to your hands. 

“i have to go, issei...” his lazy smirk wavered a bit at your words but he straightened it. fortunately for him, you didn’t noticed. 

mattsun nodded and sat up, letting you sit up too. you pressed a soft kiss on his lips and fixed your kimono and hair to look presentable as you leave. 

you stood up and was about to go out but a large hand held yours. you looked down at him and smiled, squeezing his hand before letting go and going out

he watched you exit his room, his heart clenching painfully. issei let out a shaky breath and held his forehead, chuckling pathetically. 

it was painful to see you come and go. it was his fault for feeling like this, not yours... it’s his fault for falling in love with you, the empress, when he’s just a mere concubine in your court.

he cursed and gripped his chest, where his heart was. 

he dreaded this and he knows that there would be a time where he’ll see a man by your side. and all he can do is wish that it was him that you chose.

— hanamaki ♡

• he’s a chill concubine

• makki just hangs around here and there, not minding any of the loud concubines when they’re in your palace. 

• he also doesn’t do anything to capture your attention but weirdly enough that made you intrigued

• his soft pink hair was always your favorite. you always tell him this that he had the prettiest hair you’ve seen. that it was so unique and whenever all of your concubines are in your court, you can spot him easily.

• makki being the middle child with two sisters mean that there was barely attention given to him in his household. 

• so the male wasn’t familiar with compliments and gets a little too shy when he receives it. and especially from you? the empress, the most powerful woman in the country? 

• his father brought him up when his mother took his sisters with her. 

• he remembers the muffled shout, “i don’t need a good for nothing male!” 

• hanamaki doesn’t really care anymore, deciding to isolate himself but his father was ambitious.

• his father pushed him to the empress, telling him to get ahead. that he can raise their status. he was the shining hope for the two of them. 

• makki didn’t know what to do when he first came to your court but you were there to ease his nerves though he’d admit he thought you were a guard from the way you dressed. you loved sneaking around, wearing different uniforms. though makki had his suspicions because there was no way a guard could look so beautiful..

• may the gods help him. he was falling in love with you. and fast. 

this was bad. really bad. but he can’t stop. not now. not now that he has experienced what it was like to be in your arms. to feel your lips against his. 

but the guilt was slowly eating him away. mattsun, his best friend, loved you and takahiro promised to help the former with you but here he was. warming your bed, stroking every skin he could touch. 

“what’s wrong, cherry blossom?” you asked, breath heavy from his actions. makki leaned his head against your thigh, looking at you. you’re so beautiful. 

your eyes half-lidded, chest heaving heavy pants from your previous orgasm as your red lips curled into a breathless smile.

you run your fingers through his hair, looking at him with confusion. makki let out an amused sigh and shook his head, pushing down any guilt that he felt. 

he doesn’t want to remember that. he doesn’t want to be reminded. right now he wants to focus on you. you. nothing else but loving you. 

“nothing, my queen” he hummed and leaned closer to your wet cunt again, tongue swiping against the puffy clit making you shiver at the sensitivity. you sighed, eyes rolling back to your skull as makki gently sucked and licked you. 

you gripped his hair, hips jutting against his mouth. makki hummed against you, his cock twitching excitedly, as his actions got faster when he saw that you were ready for more. oh, how he lives to please you. 

to see you come undone before his eyes was truly heavenly. 

but takahiro knew this was a bad idea. he didn’t want to do this to his best friend... he knew that issei loves you... but here he was, enjoying your every touch, every affection, and every moan your pretty lips releases. 

if he can redo everything and decline his father’s wishes and honor his friend’s feelings, he knows what he'll do... 

he would be here again and again, waiting for you. 

[novaiya]

Of Cigars and Delicate Flowers - Dutch x Reader

Summary: Based on this request for @fandomhoesworld ; heyyyyy, I love your works, they're amazing 🥰 could you do a Dutch X badass reader where he gets captured and she comes to save him? It's okay if you don't want to, thanks 🤍

Words: 2,888

Tags: GN!Reader, Canon Typical Violence

A/N: This was a good practice for me for writing literally anyone else but Arthur. I need to keep expanding my horizons 😩 AO3 Link.

There was a reason Dutch almost never went out alone, staying mostly in camp and commanding the gang from the porch of his tent; His likeness - the slick-back, black hair, the carefully cut mustache, the black hat - was plastered all over the country, posters hanging in post offices, general stores, train stations and sheriff’s offices. It would be no time before someone recognized him if he decided to take a stroll into town or visit the local saloon, so more often than not, he stayed in camp, and everything that he needed was brought to him, like his cigars.

When it came to cigars, Dutch had a very specific taste; the size had to be just right, not too slender so it burned too hot too fast, and not too thick either so it was heavy and harsh. The notes played an important role too; he preferred the spicy flavor of coffee mixed with toasted nuts, though he didn’t mind the notes of cedar and vanilla from time to time. Due to the specifics, finding the right pack of cigars could be a hassle and a headache, so whenever he did find the right one, he made sure to stack up on them.

This time, unfortunately, Dutch had found himself in a new place with no reliable cigar shop and his own supply dwindling down. He’d been puffing on the same cigar for a few days now, hoping to prolong it for as long as possible, though he could already see the end of it. He was hoping to send one of the boys into town to check for him, but everybody was busy; Arthur was on one of his monthly hunting trips, Hosea and John were working on a job, and the rest of the men were out, scouting for any leads. That left just one option; going himself. He knew it could be dangerous and risky, but his need for nicotine was stronger than his rational thought.

“What are you thinking about, Dutch?” you asked when you walked past his tent, noticing his absent minded gaze.

“Hello there,” he said, his gaze shifting towards you, a smile on his lips. “Just thinking about going out.”

Your brows shot up upon hearing his words. The gang had just fled from the previous town on the account of robbing it blind, so all of you were trying to lay low, hoping to make as little noise as possible for the time being. Having Dutch go out was the last thing you needed.

“Out?” you repeated his word, trying to hide the worry in your voice. “What for?”

Dutch brought the cigar to his lips, the usually long stick now reduced to less than a third of its previous length. You watched him as he brought the cigar to his mouth, his lips enveloping and puffing on it before exhaling the smoke. “Unfortunately, I’m down to my last cigar. Need to pick up some more in town,” he said, making you shift your eyes back to his, “Wouldn’t hurt to stretch my legs either. I’m feeling like a prisoner stuck here.”

“Are you sure, Dutch?” you said, not hiding the worry in your voice any longer. “Perhaps I could go for you. It’s not safe for you to go right now since we just-“

“Nonsense!” Dutch interrupted you. “I wouldn’t dream of putting a delicate flower such as yourself in harm's way for me.”

‘Delicate flower?!’ you thought. ‘Since when do delicate flowers rob, kill and steal?’

You opened your mouth, hoping to change Dutch’s mind but you barely parted your lips before he raised his hand, saying, “I won’t hear it” squashing any argument you could have had.

You deflated before nodding your head, leaving Dutch to himself and continuing on to where you were going originally. Worry filled you as you continued on with your day. You’d hate for anything to happen to him; not only was he your leader who you believed in and looked up to, he was also someone you liked. It was hard not to fall for him; well-read, mannered, strong and sinfully attractive, you’ve fallen for him and his promises of a better life right away. You didn’t act on your feelings though, considering he was the leader and you were just one of the members, and a new one at that. So you retorted to watching from afar, and now you were watching him as he left the camp, ready to make the trek for some puny cigars.

Dutch could be unbelievably stubborn and uncooperative sometimes; It was dangerous for him to go out, especially on his own and especially when you could still be followed from the town you just escaped. And for what? Cigars? You shook your head as you continued with what you were doing, trying to keep yourself calm. It was Dutch you were talking about after all, your fearless leader, he knew what he was doing, right?

Dutch didn’t know what he was doing. He decided to go out after supper, when the sun had already set, but the ground was still warm from the day’s heat. He made his way into town at a trotting, leisurely pace, having no reason to hurry. The weather was cooler now and he took big gulps of it, a welcomed change to inhaling the campfire smoke and the scent of Pearson’s stew. He arrived into the town with no hiccups and found the store almost right away. The selection was vast, with cigars from Cuba, Dominican Republic and Mexico among others. Dutch looked like a kid in a candy shop as he studied every cigar, wanting to take them all but in the end, settled on a pack from Jamaica, its promise of a mild and sweet taste piquing his interest.

With his purchase in his saddle bag, Dutch made his way back to the camp in the same way he did into town, slow and steady, taking in the scenery and the weather. It’s not everyday that he ventured out, so he made sure that he enjoyed it. It was not long after he passed the border of the town that he heard a faint sound of hoofbeats behind him, getting closer and closer and multiplying in numbers.

“Nice night, ain’t it?” said a man who came up to Dutch, riding next to him on his right side. Not a second later, another man came up, riding on Dutch’s left.

Dutch kept one of his hands on the reins, his other (which was previously hanging on his side), icing closer to his holster.

“Yes, it sure is,” he said.

“Say what, mister,” the man on his right began, “Are you Dutch Van Der Linde?”

Without missing a beat, Dutch laughed, saying, “You must be mistaken, sir. My name is Robert Carnegie.”

Neither of the men riding next to him laughed. They looked at each other, before looking behind them, presumingly to communicate with the other. Dutch’s hand was now on his revolver, the cool metal sticking to his sweaty skin. He gripped the handle, and as soon as he did, a hit landed on the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

Your worries kept you through the night, not letting you go to bed and making you sit by the campfire instead, waiting for Dutch’s return. Each time you heard a snap of twigs or what sounded like horse’s hoofbeats, your head would snap towards the entrance of the camp, hoping that it was Dutch coming in, but alas, it wasn’t.

It was long after everyone fell asleep when you finally saw Count trot into the camp, his platinum coat standing out against the dark trees.

You smiled, jumping up from the log you’ve been sitting at, ready to welcome Dutch back, but that smile quickly fell when you noticed that Dutch wasn’t with him.

“Where’s Dutch?” you said when you came up to stand next to Count, talking to the horse as if he could understand you, and perhaps, he did. He snickered, shaking his head and kicking around with his legs.

You placed your hand on him, running it up and down his neck to calm him down. Something went wrong, terribly wrong. Despite not wanting to think of the worst, you understood that there was no other explanation of what could’ve happened; Dutch got captured.

Time was of the essence, so without talking to anyone else or even taking time to make a plan, you mounted your own horse and made your way to Count. Dutch might’ve called you a “delicate flower”, but you were anything but that. You survived on your own for years before falling with the gang, and you were going to show him just what this “delicate flower” was capable of on their own.

“C’mon, show me where Dutch is.”

Upon hearing his owner’s name, Count sprung to action and bolted out of the camp, giving you almost no time to follow after him.

It didn’t take you long to arrive at where Dutch was held. The burning campfire and the sound of chatter could be seen and heard yards away. You hitched the horses to one of the trees before continuing the rest of the way on foot.

“Robert Carnegie, he said his name was,” you heard a man say. “What kind of idiots does he think we are?” A flood of laughter followed, drowning out any other sound in the bushy forest. You took out your binoculars, trying to see where Dutch were. There he was, tied to one of the trees not far from the campfire. His hair was a mess, and you could see traces of blood on his lip and nose. You could feel your blood boil at the sight, and quickly put away your binoculars before continuing your way forward.

“I’d say we turn him in first thing in the morning,” another man said. “No reason to drag this out.”

“Sounds good to me. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

The men continued on with their conversations when you finally approached them as close as you could without alerting them of your presence. You could feel your heart beat wildly against your ribcage as you gathered your thoughts, thinking of what to do next. It would’ve been nice to have someone else with you right now, you thought, to act as a distraction. Perhaps you should’ve thought this one over more before springing into action. Too late now.

You peeked your head from where you were hidden behind a tree, trying to get a look at Dutch. He was conscious, thought quite, tied to a tree, his head hanging low. It was weird seeing Dutch like this, helpless and vulnerable.

You picked up a small pebble before throwing it into his general direction. Nothing. He didn’t even raise his head. You picked up another one, debating whether to throw it right at his face, before deciding to throw it next to his shoes. That got his attention. Tentatively, as to not alert the men around him, he raised his head, his eyes searching the woods before finally landing on your face. Your eyes met, and you could see a hint of smile appear on his lips as soon as they did. A smile of your own made it to your lips for a moment, before turning serious again, your mind going back to the job at hand. There would be time for smiles and hugs and laughter later. Using your hands, you motioned around, pointing first to him and then to the bounty hunters, before pointing to yourself and to your gun. Dutch made a small, almost unnoticeable motion with his head, indicating that he understood your plan.

“Gentlemen,” Dutch said, stopping the men in their conversation and making all of them turn to him. “Are you sure you want to do this? If I was you, I’d walk away now.”

One of the men snickered, looking at his friends before turning his attention back to Dutch.

“That’s big talk, considering you’re the one tied to a tree.”

“I’m giving you a chance, my friend,” Dutch said, sincerity painting his words.

The man’s face grew dark and somber as did the atmosphere around. He didn’t appreciate Dutch’s words, so with a hand itching closer to his revolver, he said, “Listen here, friend. The poster said to bring you dead or alive, so don’t think for a minute-“

Dutch’s face was painted red as you shot the man in-front of him, blowing his brains out and making his blood spurt everywhere, Dutch included.

The other men sprung to action immediately, their hands going for their firearms and shooting blindly into the dark woods. For a while, all that was heard was the sound of gunshots and occasional cries and screams. You alternated between hiding behind the trees and rocks, occasionally peeking out to shoot one of the men. At last, the fire seized and the forest was once again quiet, the only sound heard being the crackling of the fire.

You peeked your head out, making sure that you’ve got all of the men before finally leaving your hiding spot and making your way to Dutch in long, powerful strides. With shaking hands, you cut down the rope that was tying him to the tree. As soon as he was freed, he massaged his wrists and the imprints that the ropes left on them. He was about to open his mouth to talk, but you began first, your voice loud enough to startle him.

“What were you thinking?!” you screamed, getting up in his face. “Getting captured because of some god forsaken cigars?!”

Dutch tried to speak again, almost got the first word of his sentence in but you continued, not letting him speak.

“What if I didn’t get here? What if I couldn’t find you? For God’s sake Dutch Van Der Linde, why did you have to put yourself in such danger, all for some cigars?!”

To say that he was shocked was to say nothing. He did not expect such a reaction from you, for as long as he’d known you you’ve been cool, calm and collected, always using logic instead of feelings, never speaking in bursts of fury. The fact that you were so riled up, because of him, shocked him and left him practically speechless.

“I…” he began,” I didn’t know you cared so much.”

At this point, you have calmed down somewhat, so you heaved a sigh at his words, shaking your head a little before saying, “Of course I care, Dutch.”

“Why?”

His question was sharp and quick, and you were caught off guard by it, not having a moment to think of an answer or a lie.

“Well, I…” you said, awkwardly glancing around. “I care about you, Dutch.”

“You do, huh?” he said with a smirk.

“Of course I do, all of us in the gang do!” you try to backtrack on your statement, but it was too late, Dutch caught on. You tried not to pay attention to his smug smirk as you whistled for the horses. “Let’s get out of here before anyone else shows up.”

You were up on your horse almost as soon as she arrived, and waited for Dutch to get on his before moving. He mounted Count with a grunt, the injuries he sustained while being held captive making themselves known.

For a moment, you let yourself forget that it was Dutch Van Der Linde you were talking to, and said, “Who’s the delicate flower now?” As soon as the words escaped your mouth, you placed your hand over it, shocked at your own boldness. A silence followed, and you braved yourself for whatever would follow next. A laugh from Dutch startled you as much as his wrath would, and you didn’t dare to say anything until he spoke up, saying, “Perhaps I underestimated you.”

You couldn’t help but relax and smile upon hearing his words, his praise nourishing your soul and making you sit up straighter in your saddle.

“Thank you, Dutch.”

As the two of you made your way out of the forest, Dutch slowed down the pace of Count so he could be riding next to you.

He cleared his throat to get your attention, and when you turned towards him he said, “I should probably apologize for misjudging your potential.” He was silent for a few moments after saying that, before adding, “Perhaps a night on the town and a dinner are in order to make up for my mistakes?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his offer, considering the situation he got himself in was directly caused by going into town.

“After everything that has happened,” you said, squinting your eyes at him, “you still want to go into town?”

“Well, of course! I got you by my side,” he said. “With a capable and clever person as you, I feel comfortable going anywhere.”

His statement made a blush appear on your cheeks, which you hoped he didn’t see in the dark night. Even beaten and bruised, Dutch never lost his famous charm.

“You are something else Mr. Van Der Linde,” you said with a smile, shaking your head.

[midoriyas-wifey]

ALPHA!JAGUAR! SHINSO X OMEGA!NEKO! READER NSFW AND SFW HEADCANONS

jesus these titles are long anyways this is in the same a/b/o universe as bakugou and his bunny. Shinso is a smug bastard no matter what AU idc idc 🤷‍♀️

warnings: im gross and write gross things. also teensy bit yandere if you squint ig

* So I headcanon that Shinso is a black jaguar hybrid, although his ears are usually hidden by his wild hair. He kind of likes it that way because rounded fuzzy ears don’t say “Alpha” to him.

* However, his tail does show, and it’s a reliable indicator of his emotions, although he’s learned to tamp the signals down to near-nothing for his pro work.

* You’d only notice his tells if you knew him, which his kitten would come to understand very soon if all went according to plan. Which it always did, he was an ambush predator; being a scheming bastard was his specialty.

* Eventually Y/N could look at the tiniest flick of his tail and quirk of his lips and tell that they’d be digging their cute little kitty claws into his broad back all night ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

* Also Y/N is a Ragdoll cat hybrid bc I love them. Is there a more precious omega than a soft, cuddly kitty that flops into your arms while purring like a motor? I think not.

* Size difference strikes again; the tips of his kitten’s ears reach his shoulder. So not AS big a difference, but he’s still beeg.

* Whenever his pretty kitty was anywhere near, his typically bored eyes burned molten purple, never failing to pin Y/N with their intensity. He gained the ability to silently command respect and submission from his taichou: Shota Aizawa

* Shinso very much knows how and when to apply his status and capabilities as an alpha to turn situations to his favor. It’s canonical that he’s a talented conversationalist and that it’s hard to refuse to talk to him.

* He met his omega in the typical meet-cute fashion: in a café. Y/N was a student in college, doing their best to get by.

* Oh, that café? It’s a cat café, because of course Shinso went to those on the dl. It was a new one that he had decided to patronize for the first time. It had everything he wanted, it was quiet, homey, and filled to the brim with kitties of all shapes and colors.

* His tail flicked in contentment, a deep rumbling sigh escaping his strong chest. His claws flexed out and sharp fangs bared in a lazy yawn while he loitered near the register. That was when he saw them, the swish of a silky bottle-brush tail as his kitten backed out of the kitchen door into the counter behind them with a surprised chirp.

* “Oh my goodness! I am so sorry, I didn’t notice I had a customer!” Y/N set the sheet with fresh pastries down hastily before moving to stand behind the display case in wait for his order.

* “What can I get started for ya?” Y/N asked with a nervous smile, shifting from foot to foot and ears swiveling towards him, waiting for an answer.

* While Shinso couldn’t truly purr like the adorable omega neko in front of him could, his chest rumbled with an amused approximation. He scanned them head to toe, from the tips of their pointed fluffy ears, down to the (utterly grabbable) tail he spotted earlier.

* He immediately knew what sweet he hungered for. He would love nothing more than to nibble on this delicious omega kitty. Maybe they’d let him get in a few licks? Maybe a bite or two or ten-

* Yeah, this café had everything he wanted and more.

NSFW AHEAD CHOO CHOO! 🚂

* Breeding goes without saying, his alpha demands it. He lives for his cute little kitty going feral, seeing Y/N yowling for his knot is a sight that can’t be beat.

* He likes to tease his omega by barely slipping in his knot, not enough to fully connect the two of them, but enough to tease and torment his slicked up and desperate omega. When the slick sounds of his knot dragging against their walls fills the room; it’s music to his ears.

* He very much enjoys facefucking and nothing pleases him more than giving his kitten their cream right down their throat ❤️

* He loves seeing Y/N struggle to gulp all his thick cream down, their throat bobbing with the effort to not spill a drop. He cums a LOT.

* Wouldn’t mind gripping on to a pretty collar around Y/N’s neck in a firm grip while he fucks them into the mattress, not quite a choke. However, he’s more than willing to go there if prompted.

* Brat tamer extraordinaire. At even the slightest snotty attitude, he’s dragging Y/N by their cute fluffy tail, binding them up with his capture weapon, and tongue fucks them with his rough sandpaper tongue til they’re sobbing in overstimulation and begging for mercy. He laps up their slick like a delicious smoothie. Sluuuuurrrrpp.

* He loves to tie up and play with his sweet omega all day, setting their every last nerve on fire with almost enough pleasure; and then make them cum so many times that they wail loud enough for the entire apartment complex to hear.

* Shinso could go down on his sweet kitten for hours and not get tired or bored. The only reason he doesn’t is because he knows his omega can’t quite handle his full attentions and depravity. Yet.

* No shame, not even a little. This man will unassemble his omega piece by iece with pleasure, driving them insane with all he’s willing to do, before putting them back together again with sweet kisses and rumbling chuffs.

* Y’all sleep for like 20 hours afterwords lmao

[mellowswriting]

Mando N*S*F*W Alphabet

**I had to delete and reupload this because tumblr hates me lmao

A - Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Mando is exhausted. Sex is always drains every bit of energy from the both of you because Mando is intense. Whether he’s giving it to you slow and deep or he’s fucking you hard over any available surface, every bit of strength is sapped from his usually strong and capable body. 

That doesn’t mean he skimps on the aftercare, though. He likes to rub his palms over your heated skin - your arms, your thighs, your belly. Doesn’t matter to him, he just wants to touch. 

He whispers his thanks into the air like he’s in confession, his words hushed as he tells you how good you are for him, how lucky he feels. How much he loves you. 

Din loves to fall asleep with his cock still buried in you, overstimulated and twitching every now and then, even if he knows he’ll likely wake up with a sore back from the awkward position. 

B - Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Din didn’t really think about his own body that much, positively or negatively - until he met you of course. His body was just that. His body. But when you told him little things you loved about him, he couldn’t help but start to take notice. 

His hands are his favorite, he supposes. They’re strong, capable. Watching his fingers disappear into your mouth or twitch over your neck where he holds you in place as he fucks you fast and hard… it really gets him going. He can’t help but love his hands with the way you talk about them, too. The first time you told him it turned you on to watch how expertly he could disassemble his blaster to clean it made him look at them in a new light, and now he can never turn back. 

Din loves every single part of your body, but he’s partial to those hips. He can settle his hand on your hip while you’re standing next to him and easily stake his claim that way. Everyone around knows who you belong to like that. They’re his favorite place to grab while he fucks you, with your neck in a close second place. Whether you’re riding him, on your hands and knees, or laid out on your back, your hips sport bruises constantly from how hard his grip is when he uses them to hold you firm for him. 

Din also loves your mouth, but we’ll talk about that soon...

C - Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Holy shit does Din love seeing his cum on you, in you, anyway possible. It’s a primal thing that makes his spent cock twitch every time he sees it. It feels like he’s marking you, claiming you as his in the most base way possible. 

His absolute favorite place to finish is inside of you, obviously. The idea of it taking hold and watching your belly swell with his child? Fuck. His brain short circuits at the very thought. He shoves his cum back into you when it dares leak out, his fingers slick with both of your cum. He loves the feeling of your exhausted cunt spasming around his thick fingers. 

Din will cum all over your face if you assure him that you want it. It feels degrading in the most delicious way, and he would never want to make you feel like he genuinely sees you that way. Both those wide, pretty eyes staring up at him from where you’re kneeling on the floor, his cum all over your face is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He scoops it all up with his fingers and lets you suck them clean, and fuck, he’s hard again.

If you let him finish anywhere else, on your thighs or belly or ass, he’s rubbing it into your skin. Yet another way for him to lay his claim to you. 

D - Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Din wants to try consensual non-consent - specifically hunting you down like you’re some bounty. He wants to fuck you like he hates you, like you’re just a hole he paid to fuck in some sleezey brothel, not like you’re his precious, sweet little thing. Of course he would treat you like an angel afterwards, but in the moment? He wants to tie you up, haul you over his shoulder, and smack your ass when you beg him not to fuck you. 

E - Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Specifically with sex? Din is experienced. It’s canon that he fucks, okay. It was a utilitarian act, the periodical release of stress so he wouldn’t explode with pressure. Din makes sure his partner gets theirs and he gets his, and then he goes on his way.

Until you. Suddenly there’s this option to explore, broaden his horizons and try new things. Din discovers he loves missionary. He can grip your jaw and angle your face however he wants to get a good look at those kiss-swollen lips and glazed eyes. 

Intimacy during and after is the new part that he’s inexperienced with, and it takes him a minute to get used to it. The first time you tangle your fingers with his and just… hold his hand while he’s viciously railing you, Din’s pace stutters because… wow, this is somehow so soft and loving while he’s rearranging your guts and yeah, he loves it. And you. 

F - Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Din has a few, he can’t pick just one. 

Missionary is one of the top ones. He loves being able to look into your eyes and watch your face as you slowly lose your mind with pleasure. Watching your breasts bounce with each thrust is a plus, too. 

Face down, ass up, and you’ve got one very happy Mandalorian on your hands. It feels filthy, primal even, to fuck you like this. Like he’s got ownership of your body as he lords over you, gathers your hair in one hand, and pulls to get that beautiful arch to your spine. 

If you’re both exhausted but still needy, he’ll pull your back against his chest, tuck your leg over his hip, and slide into you nice and slow. It’s intimate and slow, the way he rocks into your body until you’re both sated. 

G - Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Din is a serious guy and that definitely includes during sex. 

I mean, he’ll chuckle if you knock heads, but that’s about it. 

He takes your pleasure seriously. He doesn’t just want you to feel good, he fucking needs it like he needs air. 

H - Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Din has a curly thatch of dark hair above his cock. He doesn’t let it grow out of control, but he doesn’t like shaving himself completely bare. The man already has to deal with layer upon layer of cloth and armor, he doesn't need the added discomfort of ingrown hairs and itchiness. So he keeps it neatly trimmed. 

Plus he has a small happy trail, just a thin wispy bit of hair reaching towards his belly button. 

I - Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Din murmurs how much he loves you, how lucky he is that he has you. In the moment when he’s so close to breaking, so close to filling you with his cum, his words are choked off and barely understandable. 

It becomes clearer once he’s come down from his high and his heart rate has gone back to normal. He murmurs between kisses to your face, shoulders, chest, anywhere he can reach. 

After so many years of impersonal sex, Din relishes in the intimacy he experiences with you. Just holding your body close to his gives him such a rush, he feels like a lovesick teenager. Somehow the way you gently run your fingers down his sternum makes him blush harder than the sight of you on your knees with his cock in your mouth. 

J - Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He used to masturbate regularly. It’s an easy way to ease some of his tension and help clear his mind. It doesn’t happen as often now - when he gets the urge, he goes to you for that release. 

If you aren’t around or busy or otherwise not in the mood, he has no problem taking care of himself if the ache is too much to ignore. 

K - Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise, giving and receiving. He loves the way you shiver underneath him when he calls you his good girl, tells you how pretty you look underneath him. He loves the desperate glint in your eyes because he just knows you want more of that addictive praise and that you’d do practically anything for it. But it’s the tremble in your voice when you tell him how fucking big he is, how amazing he feels splitting you open, how good he makes you feel that makes him lose his absolute mind. Din feels powerful and godly in the way that he can make you tremble beneath him, but beyond that - he feels loved. Appreciated. 

Degradation. A bit contrary to the praise kink, but hey. Din will growl out that you’re his cockdrunk little slut and shudder at your response of drawing his fingers into your mouth to suck on while he fucks you even harder. 

Breeding & Lactation kink. His entire culture is based upon raising and caring for children, so of course Din wants to see you swollen with his child. Even if it’s just a fantasy and you don’t want kids or can’t have them, he loves filling you with his seed and imagining. The very idea of wrapping his lips around your perky nipple and drinking the milk your body made to feed his child makes Din work a thousand times harder to breed you. 

Overstimulation. Those big, begging eyes you give him as he circles your clit, after already making you cum a few times lights something dark and primal inside Din. 

Primal play. Again, the idea of hunting you down and fucking you wherever he finds you has him harder than his beskar in a second flat.

Cockwarming. It’s intimate and teasing at the same damn time. What is there not to love about that?  

L - Location (favorite places to do the do)

His favorite place is his bunk. He doesn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him. He can strip completely bare, feel your skin against his own, listen to your cry out his name when he buries his teeth in your neck. 

That doesn’t mean he won’t drag you into a dark alleyway to fuck you against the bricks. He makes sure to cover your mouth with his gloved hand so no one hears you moaning on his cock like a desperate little slut. 

The cockpit. Holy shit, the cockpit. Din loves having you on his dick while he pilots. He doesn’t even have to be actively fucking you. If he’s got you in his lap with his dick buried in your cunt, then he’s rubbing your thighs and ass with those huge, warm hands while you curl up against his chest. If he’s got you on your knees for him with your mouth around his cock, you can expect him to settle his hand at the crown of your head to hold you close. Plus he even got you a little pillow after the first time you rose to your feet with sore and bruised knees

M - Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Watching you change clothes. There’s just something about the way you pause and smile so brightly when you see him looking at you, half dressed and offering him a kiss. It’s intimate, almost domestic. He’s got you tossed onto the bed so he can rip the rest of your clothes off before you can blink. 

Din loves when you beg. Your voice gets so desperate, so needy for him. 

Seeing you reject someone. Weird, I know, but hear me out. You’re fucking hot, so it’s bound to happen that someone will hit on you while you’re out and about, especially in cantinas and especially if Din has stepped away to take care of business. Without that imposing wall of beskar hovering behind you, some people are bold enough to approach and flirt with you. Most have no issue bowing out at your rejection, but there’s always the inevitable asshole who decides that you just need some more convincing. Din loves the way you eye them and then laugh in their face. It just cements the fact that you’re his. 

N - No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

No actual breathplay. Din will let his hands clamp over the sides of your neck to restrict your blood flow and give you that heady, hazy feeling, but refuses to actually press down on your windpipe. It’s too fucking dangerous. 

Nothing that would cause you actual harm or scar you. Knife play is a solid maybe, but he isn’t going to cut you or anything like that. The idea of causing you pain that isn’t also pleasurable makes his stomach turn. 

O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Din has a thing for your mouth, okay. He fucking loves everything about it, those soft lips, your talented tongue, the sharp bite of your teeth. You use it so well; your words are vivid and at times, poetic. Your kisses are all-encompassing. Din could lose himself in the flow of your lips against his. The marks you leave on his neck and chest make him shiver. 

So the image of you on your knees with his cock in your mouth??? HELLO, this man is hard and ready to go. He feels like you’re going to suck his entire soul out of him, and he’s totally okay with that too. 

Din never actually gave anyone else oral until you because of his Creed. He was too in his head about whoever he was with not respecting his religion and its importance, so he never gave in to the curiosity of pleasuring someone with his tongue. But don’t worry, Din is a fast learner. He listens to your instruction on what you like and pays rapt attention to the different ways your body responds to his touch, to what motions draws out those pretty little gasps and makes your hips jerk to grind against his face. 

Din learns that he doesn’t just love receiving oral, but giving as well. He would spend hours between your thighs if you’d let him

P - Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Both? Both. Both are good. 

It always ends with Din going fast and rough. More often than not, it starts with slow and soft grinding and gasping against each other. The more that tension builds, though? Din’s hands grow rougher as he wraps a hand in your hair to hold you steady in whatever position he wants to keep you in. His kisses become more teeth than tongue, his gasps and moans become harsh groans and growls that make tingles dance along your skin. 

After you both get yours though? He’s right back to being slow and soft and sensual. Such a precious man. 

Q - Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hey, sometimes you just gotta fuck and there’s not enough time to draw it out and completely exhaust your bodies. Din understands that better than anyone. So he has no problem bending you over the console in the cockpit when you grin at him with that sly fucking look on your face and say, “Ten minutes or less?” 

Honestly, I see Din as the type to have a quickie a day. No lie, he loves the fast and desperate rush of it all. Besides, it’s just the preface to the way he’ll break you down to an unintelligible, fucked out mess later before going to sleep. 

R - Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

God, yes. Please. Please experiment with this man. 

Din wants to learn. He’s certain there are things he likes that he just has never thought about before. So Din will 100% sit you down and have a long talk about your hard and soft limits, what you want to try and what he wants to try. Is his dick hard the entire time he listens to you stutter out your fantasies? Absolutely. 

Din jumps at the chance to try new things, but again - he won’t risk genuinely harming you. Ever. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. 

S - Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Din can go for hours. What better is there to do in the endless, boring hours of flying through hyperspace? In the time it takes for him to get hard again, Din is between your thighs and pulling those heavenly sounds from you, stringing you along in the tortuous space between pleasure and overstimulation. 

Din can and will edge himself just to see how many times he can make you cum on his cock. So he can last hours, if he really applies his long-honed self control. 

T - Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

When you bring up toys for the first time, Din is immediately worried that he isn’t pleasing you enough, but once you reassure him that that isn’t the case at all, he’s game to try. And the first time he sees you trembling with a vibe against your clit, he’s hooked. 

Din doesn’t really care for toys he would use on himself. He’d much rather bury himself in you than some silicone. 

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

King of Mandalore? More like the King of Teasing. 

Din loves edging you, over and over again, until you’ve flown past begging and landed directly on frustrated and demanding. He loves seeing the hard edge of annoyance fall from your face into absolute bliss when he finally, finally lets you cum. 

V - Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Din mostly gives these low grunts and groans. They’re all rumbly and have molten pleasure pooling in your belly. 

The closer he gets to finishing, the more Din is gasping against your skin. Every sound he makes becomes breathier, lighter. Din cums with a strangled gasp, usually right in your ear because he knows how much you love it. 

W - Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Din is an absolutely cocky little shit. He loves showing you off. He leaves marks in highly visible places just so that everyone knows you’re his. Honestly, he can’t help it. You’re just so pretty, he doesn’t want anyone who looks at you to think they have a chance. 

He sits in booths in cantinas with his thighs spread like the drama king he is and pats his thigh for you to sit on. You always roll your eyes, but indulge him anyway. 

X - X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Din’s dick is a work of art and I refuse to believe otherwise. Uncut, eight inches long, and thick. Slightly curved upwards, perfect for grinding against your g-spot as he fucks the life out of you. 

His shoulders are broad, his chest strong and toned. There’s a slight pudge to his belly that he used to be kind of insecure about until he saw how much you love it. 

Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Din is a once a day at least kinda guy. Usually before bed because it helps both of you sleep and he loves the feeling of you cuddling up to him and slowly drifting off into a blissed out, peaceful sleep.

His max is three, though. He isn’t twenty anymore, his dick doesn’t get hard at the slightest change in the wind like it used to. But he will use his mouth and fingers on you literally whenever you want.  

Z - Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Within fifteen minutes, Din is out. He gives you all of his attention for as long as he can, even when his eyes are drooping and he’s snuggling into you. 

Unless you need him of course. If you need to talk about something, anything, he’s sitting up so he can be entirely sure he’s awake and listening.

[x-avantgarde-x]

Of love and dancing- Levi Ackerman

Summary: after taking back wall Maria, you and the other members of the Survey Corps, attend a ball held on your behalf.

Warnings: none, apart from some modifications of the canon story. Mentions of Erwin/Character and pure fluff.

Song to listen to: As the world caves in by Matt Maltese.

I also had this image in mind while writing this image because Levi looks amazing.

I have to thank @starrynightlys for taking the time to read this! Go check her blog if you don’t know her guys, she’s amazing ♥️

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Pink silk gently framing her well defined curves, her curly brunette locks tamed down to perfection for the first time in years in the survey corps; red juicy lips and rosy cheeks, it all combined with a soft pearly eyeshadow framed your best friends snow white pale skin making her look like a goddess out of an ancient painting. The enticing smell of roses being adding a little something to the picture in front of your eyes.

You smiled sweetly at her, quite proud of your work after the many hours you had spent locked in your room making sure that your best friend looked her best for her ball tonight.

The night had been carefully planned out from weeks before. Since the very first time she had lightly told you about her infatuation with commander Erwin Smith you had made it your duty, as you always had, to ensure her happiness by helping her lure the man. You yourself had had a certain someone in mind, from the moment the event had been announced the image of a certain raven haired captain had done anything but to roam your every thoughts. You had intended on inviting him to attend the ball with you, but for the past weeks Captain Levi had been awfully busy and you hadn’t had a chance to properly talk with him, if only to exchange a few words when you crossed paths on the hallways or delivered him one of his many cups of tea, before he drowned himself back in paperwork.

“Are you done already?” You hear your friend Maria talking from outside the door, “We’re almost done!” You responded, before rushing to the other side of the room and grabbing both your purses. You walked back to Andrea, a reassuring look on your eyes. “Are you sure he will like this?” She asked, voice trembling gently from the butterflies inside her stomach, “Trust me, he will love it.” The words were simple, but the unspoken message hidden behind them was acknowledged by you both ‘He will love you’, that particular way you had had of communicating with each other without the need of words since you were merely kids coming in handy once more.

You were greeted with your friends Maria and Rocio, each of them respectively holding Jean’s and Connie’s arm, while Sasha happily waited for you leaning on the door. Maria shook her head jokingly while complaining “Took you long enough in there to get ready” to what Connie and Rocio agreed while Jean added with a smooth smile “But has it been worth the wait, though”. You all laughed at his comment while Maria crossed her arms, playing offended with her boyfriend as he tried to get her to forgive him.

Once in the castle, your eyes widened in fascination. It was the biggest, fanciest place you had ever stepped your foot at. You were pretty sure, by the look of Andrea’s face, that given her rich familiars she had been to places similar to this before, but given that the place most similar to this that you had ever gone to was the upper class restaurant at the end of your street back at wall Maria, and the fact that the establishment wasn’t comparable to the luxuries and the greatness of the palace left you speechless and feeling quite out of place.

At the end of the room you could hardly pick out Historia, now Queen Historia, from the thousands of people in the room. After successfully taking back wall Maria, and having properly mourned the fallen soldiers, she and her ministers had decided to hold a ball in order to commemorate the Survey Corps and its members. And you couldn’t be any more grateful to her for any of this.

Returning your attention back to the room, you saw Sasha make her way to the food tables as Jean and Maria and Connie and Rocio drifted off to the dance floor, getting lost in between the many couples swaying together, as you tried unsuccessfully to find both your superiors. Making your way through the room, holding hands with Andrea in order to not get lost, you walked along the room a few times failing miserably in your search. Dizzy and bothered by the many people in the room you both walked away to a quiet corner hidden in between a few columns, sitting in a forgotten table that had been placed there you took in the look of disappointment in your friend’s eyes, so in order to light up the mood you asked her “Would you like for me to go and pick up a few snacks and drinks before Sasha finishes with it all?” She nodded faintly as you stood up walking once more towards the buffet.

As you walked back to your table, plates in hand and two glasses filled to the brim with the most expensive wine you had ever tasted, you finally found the men you had been searching for hours ago, Squad leader Hange and them sitting all together in a table in one of the most crowded places of the room. Without losing a moment, and leaving your food behind, not before taking a last sip of your wine, you made your way towards them with steady steps. When you were close enough to their table you made your presence known with a gentle cough and a loud enough “Commander!”

As the tall blond turned to face you, you tried your best to ignore Levi’s piercing eyes looking directly at you. “Cadet (Y/L/N), what a pleasure to see you here. Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked you, but you didn’t fail to notice how he seemed to be searching for someone behind you. “Indeed I am, sir” you answered politely “but I wish I could say the same for my friend Andrea, over there” you added, pointing back at were your best friend sat, patiently waiting for your return “She has been awfully bored since we got her. But I’m pretty sure it’s not something a nice dance couldn’t solve”.

Erwin stood up from his chair almost immediately after your words, and you weren’t really sure that he had even heard your words as he walked away, a bright smile on his face. Hange laughed almost hysterically at the scene playing out before their eyes while you took the seat Erwin had occupied moments before, sitting right next to the man you had been dying to come to this same ball from long ago. You were about to speak, fearing to fall into an awkward silence, when you hear the captain’s smooth voice talking to you “I actually thought he wouldn’t end up asking her for a dance given how things were going. Though he probably hasn’t talked about anything else for the past few hours”, you chuckled in response, turning yourself back to face him.

Levi looked dashing, dressed in a pristine black suit and hair slicked back, giving him some sort of aristocracy air to his appearance. You could feel your heart skip a bit and once again you found yourself growing insecure about your appearance, asking yourself if the plain cream coloured dress and golden high-hills you had come with and your barely noticeable makeup were enough for the place you were at. “You... you look amazing, Captain” you told him, a sweet smile on your face, a faint blush appeared on his cheeks and ear “You look pretty too” he answered back, as if he could read your thoughts "and cut the formalities, tonight we are not in a mission" laughing at his comment you agreed with him, leaning back on your sit not without catching another glass of wine from one of the butlers trays. The next 30 minutes were spent in a comfortable silence, as you entertained yourself with watching your friends and their partners dance to the music, and enjoying your wine along the many decorations of the room. It was then that the music came to an end, the musicians getting ready to play a new symphony, that you finally got the chance you had been waiting for. “Levi...” you called for his attention making him turn back to you “ would you care for a dance?” He looked taken back by your question, his posture getting totally stiff and a disturbed look on his face “I’m sorry, I...” Levi spoke, voice low and trembling, as if he didn’t know how to phrase his next sentence “You...” you spoke back, trying to encourage him as you placed your right hand on top of his, which rested upon the table, and drawing small circles against his skin. He inhaled deeply and said in a rush “I don’t know how to dance”.

You weren’t able to stop a small chuckle from escaping from your lips, to what the man next to you reacted by straightening himself once more and trying to get off your touch. In an attempt to solve the situation you came closer to him, a sweet look on your face “Levi, it’s okay if you don’t know how to dance... follow me” a small smile took over his face, what made your heart skip a few beats at the sight, and his eyes glimmered in amusement as he nodded in agreement and extended one of his hands for you to take it. Doing so, you walked him out of the lounge to a small and solitary room you had spotted once you walked inside the palace, there you could still follow the music without getting swallowed by the mob of dancing couples and without worrying about judicious looks. Intertwining your fingers with his long ones, you placed his left hand upon your waist at the same time that he pulled your closer to he’s chest, a shiver traveling both your bodies making goosebumps appear because of the proximity. The song began and you started to move, almost gracefully, around the dance floor. In a moment of braveness, you decided to place your head against his chest, listening to the rapid rhythm of his heart against his rib cage; you breathed in deeply, his usual scent of tea leaves, old wood, and soap slightly masked by the scent of his cologne. As you continued dancing you could feel his body relaxing against yours, his steps becoming less unsure as you twirled around the place, your whole attention laid on one another.

Songs began and songs ended and there you spent the rest of the night, twirling around the room in your Captain’s arms, detached from the rest of the world that stayed behind a closed door.

[she-who-the-river-could-not-hold]

Crackling Fires 2021 | October Fic Challenge

"Words Lost in the Wind"

hosted by: @crackling-fires | prompt(s): day 01 – "Wild is the music of the autumnal wind / Among the faded woods" –– William Wordsworth, The Excursion (Book VI: The Church-Yard Among the Mountains) | ship(s): Bellarke | wc: 1.2k Season 2, Canon Divergence –– Clarke is living on her own in the woods and trying to heal after the events of Mount Weather. Fall has arrived and with it, an unexpected guest. She and Bellamy haven’t seen each other since she left him at the gates of Arkadia and maybe the change in the seasons might also help them navigate the changes in their relationship with each other.

Clarke moved carefully through the underbrush, doing her best to not snag her pants along the prickly snares of the thistle. She’d already had to mend these pants twice since making them and she didn’t feel like adding that to her list to do again already.

Maybe others wouldn’t like the slow death of nature around them, but Clarke found it strangely comforting. The seasons on Earth were out of whack for what they should have been, or at least from what she’d learned in Earth Skills, but what she imagined was autumn had finally arrived. She watched as the lush green forest around her dipped into monochromatic hues, oranges and browns with bright yellow tips as a splash of color. The first morning she’d experienced fog––true fog, not the kind that burned through your flesh––she’d just stood in wonder. The cool mist filling in the gaps of the trees, dampening her curls and casting a sleepy haze throughout the woods.

It felt like nature was going into hibernation and it felt therapeutic to find her body moving naturally with it. The first couple weeks had been terrible in isolation and it was only now that she felt herself finding therapy in her new day to day life. Today was a better day too, even if she’d belatedly realized that she needed to go out and harvest some more food. And wood too, based on the way she rubbed her hands together to generate some heat as she waited for the rest of her body to wake up.

She’d followed her usual route, letting herself disappear amongst the fog to silently forage. Listening to the crackle of fallen leaves underfoot and breathing in the cool air, she gathered up new herbs and mushrooms, collected new kills from her traps, and some wood for a new fire. So much of her routine was the same and she found safety in that. Which meant when she saw a person standing outside her small hut she’d built, panic overcame her. But then she realized who it was. She stopped in her tracks, nearly dropping the pile of wood in her arms as her limbs went limp.

“Bellamy?”

“Hey,” he answered. His voice was as rough as ever and he had a sort of crooked grin on his face and he was really standing in front of her.

Not as much had changed about him physically as she was expecting. But that meant she’d wondered about him during all of this and she quickly squashed that down. Besides, she’d left him behind with the camp for a reason––he didn’t break like she did. She could see that in the way he carried his posture now, less cocky and more confident. His hair was longer and it was hard to imagine a day when he’d slicked it back. He was wearing a newer guards uniform than the one he’d stolen to come to Earth; this one fit him naturally and like it had always been meant for him.

But just when she felt the pangs of jealousy stir up in her, her roving eyes picked up the faint dark circles beneath his eyes, the twitch of his hand at his waist near the gun that lay there. There was still an edge to him.

She hated the relief she felt underlying the sorrow for knowing that maybe there were cracks still struggling to close in him too.

“What are you doing out here?” She asked thickly. Finally regaining movement in her body, she slowly walked closer to him. With a clatter, she dropped the wood down beside the door and he waited for the sound to settle before shrugging and responding.

“I thought I would come and try to find you.”

It’s been almost a month, she almost replied. But that would imply it was all on him when she was the one who had left him.

So she remained silent and the wind rustling through the leaves around them filled the space instead.

“Do you want to help?”

The question burst out of her as he looked to maybe say goodbye. It was a moment of panic––she wasn’t sure he was really here and she wouldn't let him go yet. But his tense posture relaxed and he nodded. He followed her into the hut and she handed him the knife she used for preparing the meat and she got to work on cutting up the mushrooms while he did as well.

“Your hair’s changed with the leaves,” he teased gently, awkwardly, a few minutes later. She self-consciously reached up and touched her hair. She hadn’t updated it in a while, shrouding her blonde hair behind a mask of red.

“It’s just temporary,” she found herself saying. As if the golden locks didn’t remind her of a different person. A girl who could laugh and was called princess and didn’t have the weight of Mount Weather on her shoulders. But somehow she couldn’t let Bellamy think that she was entirely gone. Like the trees in fall, that girl just had to go away for a while.

He simply nodded and continued with his work.

It was almost unnervingly domestic to watch him skin the rabbit, as if he did this all of the time here, so she quickly turned away.

Maybe it was the lack of eye contact that encouraged him because Bellamy spoke up again, as if he’d been waiting for her to face away from him.

“The others miss you, Clarke.” A drawn out pause when he added in a rush: “I miss you.”

She couldn’t fight back the choked up sniffle that came from her. Everyone’s faces were still so vivid in her mind, even through the hazy red tint that had taken over her memories.

I miss you too.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” she said in a rush, “I knew you could take care of them.”

“And you? What’s taking care of you?”

Was there an unspoken ‘who’ in there? Did Bellamy not see the hollowness of herself and this hut, void of another presence to settle her always thumping heart?

“Sometimes I just listen,” Clarke replied quietly, “and try to hear what the earth is saying around me. What the wind is telling me. The humanity we faced in Mount Weather was so twisted that I think I lost a part of myself there. But when I’m here amongst the trees, I feel like I can hear that part coming back to me. Remembering that there can still be hope down here.”

Bellamy nodded along, his hands still above the rabbit and the knife loose in his hand. He looked as lost in his memories as she felt.

“I’d never force you to come back,” he finally said. But as the wind whistled around the thin walls of the hut, Clarke felt like she heard the silent echo of him asking instead.

“I know,” she responded immediately. She had to make sure that he understood him, better than maybe she even wanted to admit. And the soft smile he gave her was enough to know that he got it, as he returned to his work and her as well.

They continued on in silence and Clarke decided that maybe her regrowth didn’t have to be alone.