#DYING IS BETTER THAN THIS ALL CONSUMING LOVE FOR THEM

[the-song-of-avernus]

It's fascinating how even though you don't always hear about \ anyone other than Astarion, every origin companion in BG3 has an endgame/epilogue state that is either outright bad for them or at the very least "not as good as they deserve".

Obvious there have been books and 100,000 pages of fic and discourse written about Ascended Astarion. In the moments when he almost acts like his old self, even then it's merely humoring you with a whim.

Mother Superior DJ Shadowheart flat out admits to severe empathy for what Viconia went through, and has fully closed herself off from any sense of attachment or feeling other than Nocturne and Tav. Her continued need to find carve-outs and exceptions and loopholes parallels Viconia's own eventual disagreements with Shar. And as we know, Shar will eventually betray or abandon her if Shadowheart doesn't betray her first. It's the story of every devout Sharran we meet.

Gale, the God is a smug arrogant hubris-ridden asshole that's even mean to Tara in the epilogue. Nearly every single sentiment he expressed about why he wanted the Crown and to ascend is immediately inverted. Of course he's not going to interfere. He's a figure of aspiration. Once he received power himself he immediately forgot and forsook everyone and everything about why he wanted it in the first place. A romanced God Gale is SLIGHTLY more grounded but that's mostly just because you ground him. And if you ascend with him, that ends that.

Lae'zel's return to Vlaakith results in her ascension, which leads to her missing the party and being very dead. The things that Lae'zel claimed to value will never truly be as long as Vlaakith rules, and her not escaping and falling back into her people's death cult robs her of the ability to create a new Gith, a better Gith.

Karlach is dead, or almost as bad, a Mind Flayer. And while most of her initial personality remains, by six months in she's already grown emotionally distant and her personality is clearly and evidently being slowly overridden by the brains of the dying she consumes. She's forsaken the embrace of death for the guise of eternal continuation in her. And even surrounded by the ten people who should mean the most in the world to her, all she mostly thinks about is others' perceptions of her (ala the Emperor) and the fact that she's hungry. Mind Flayer Karlach even notes that she used to think becoming a Mind Flayer would be the worst thing ever, but now she likes it. Shades of the Emperor x1000 and a clear sign that the Karlach we know and love is rapidly becoming a memory.

and then there's Grand Duke Wyll. On the surface, it appears the happiest of the "bad" endings, but pay attention. Note how he discusses wheeling and dealing and making agreements with patriars. (How well has contracts and deals worked out for you in the past?) Oh, and in certain conditions including romance, Wyll will offer you the chance to become a Grand Duke as well - with the others being his father (Ravengard #3) and Florrick (Wyll/Ulder's longest lasting family friend). That's not a government of the people for the people. When the power is tied up by a husband, spouse, his father, and their most trusted advisor, that's the makings of a monarchy or oligarchy. Of the type of patriar power-claim to last for generations, something Wyll himself once mocked. Oh, and if you adopt a child, then you get into the worst part of it all: Wyll's been busy running a city, and oh hey, instead of y'all bringing YOUR FOUR MONTH OLD DAUGHTER with you, hey, she'll be cool being watched by the Ilmater temple for a night right? Sorry, Wyll, were you saying something a few months ago about distant parenting? Yikes.

[maximotts]

Number four with cowgirl Wanda please 😵‍💫 My free use queen

cowgirl Wanda my love my life 💖 uhmmm have some not so secret barn loft sex

cw: 18+ minors dni; smut, dry humping, strap-ons, previously agreed upon free use/dubcon if you really squint hard

"Do you want them to hear?"

“It was real sweet of you to come all the way down here just to bring me lunch.”

Wanda shouldn’t have been able to sound so innocent while tearing at your clothes, tugging the thin straps of your sundress from your shoulders just to let it fall and bunch at your waist. You also should’ve known better than to think she was innocently asking you to sit on your lap to ‘rest’ after finishing off the sandwich you’d brought her from the house.

Truly you’d known since she led you up to the barn’s hayloft, but Wanda left so early that morning, her side of the bed cold by the time you woke up, and you’d missed her terribly ever since. “Well I haven’t seen you all day, Wands. I needed to make sure you weren’t working yourself to death down here- ah!”

The brunette’s mouth latched onto your breast then, free hand coming to massage the other as you scrambled to keep yourself balanced. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t let you fall.”

The pair of you continued on like that for a while, Wanda keeping busy with sucking your tits as you tugged her tied back hair and stammered out praises. Impatient as you were, shaky hands fell to your girlfriend’s jeans, fumbling through unbuckling her belt just to grind your hips down to hers hard, silently begging for the strap on nestled between her legs.

“Always so needy to be filled, is that what you want?” Her hand snuck under your dress and, upon searching for underwear and instead finding your bare pussy, Wanda nipped at the underside of your breast. “Came down all by yourself with nothing on under this thin little dress? Naughty little bunny.”

There was no denying it, having hoped that one way or another, your midday visit would result in the sex you’d missed out on this morning. But who could blame you when your girlfriend was always so enticing? “I need you so bad, please.. I’ll beg so prettily for you.”

You’d put on your best pout, stroking Wanda’s cheek much too gently for the carnal need buzzing between you both. She lined the toy up to your entrance without another word, dying to fuck you just as much as you needed to be consumed by her. “Go on and beg, baby. Let me hear you.”

“Oh fuck, yes!” You moaned, sinking down onto her cock in one fluid motion. Your knees shook against the old wood of the loft, head falling into the crook of Wanda’s neck as she bucked up into your tight hole. “Feels so good, don’t stop—“

“That’s it, take what you need, pretty thing.” Wanda held your hips in a relaxed grip, allowing you to ride her however you pleased while she enjoyed the show.

It was just as you’d set the perfect pace that the large barn doors below opened, Natasha’s and Carol’s voices filling the otherwise empty building. Instinct had you backing off, but Wanda wouldn’t let you, fingers digging into your sides. “Stop it, we can’t! Someone’s here!”

“Shhh,” Wanda smirked when you shook your head, gripping your ass so roughly you yelped- much louder than you’d have liked. “Do you want them to hear?”

She didn’t stop there, refusing to be denied when she’d been so looking forward to this loft rendezvous, and soon your back met a scratchy bed of hay, Wanda driving into you more determined than ever. Wanda couldn’t care less if her friends heard what was happening up here; it wouldn’t be the first time they’d accidentally overheard and it probably wouldn’t be the last. “I bet it only turns you on more, thinking about everyone wanting to listen in on how pretty you sound getting fucked dumb.”

“N-No, I-” Realistically you didn’t stand a chance, tiny whimpers already escaping despite your best efforts to keep quiet. She held your hands above your head, keeping your body on display as she had her way with you and damn it, if it wasn’t so hot, you wouldn’t be struggling so intently to meet her hips with each thrust.

Wanda started to circle your neglected clit then and the last of your performative defiance faltered, legs falling open with a wanton moan. “You promised to beg, so you’d better not have been lying or I’ll leave you here with an ass so red you’ll be crying for me to carry you home.”

[hoes4lino]

Poisonous tears

Genre: Angst, fluff & smut | exes to lovers

Word Count: 10.8k

Reading Time: 40 minutes

WARNING ⊂✦⊃ This story contains NSFW / suggestive & angst content and mentions of infertility, alcohol & cigarettes. Minors please don’t interact, please beware of the content you consume online.

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May 8th 2021,

They say that when cats are about to die they run away from their home so that their owners won’t see them die.

In this case, no one is dying, though every day you notice a black stain growing on Minho’s love— as harsh as it sounds.

He would take late night shifts to avoid being on the same bed as you, hanging out more with his friends so he wouldn’t hear your obnoxious voice, he was just barely home nowadays.

He was running away from you, so you wouldn’t notice how the light of his heart was diminishing by the day, perhaps this was his way to protect you from a heart-wrenching heartbreak. Ironic isn’t it?

However, one thing you know about Minho is that even though he might not love you anymore, he would rather walk on fire stones than hurt you. How do you know that? You just know it.

You knew it. You knew something was wrong the moment he told you he was going to be home for dinner.

You knew something was wrong when he suddenly kissed you this morning after weeks of no kisses.

“My feelings for you died” The words repeated over and over again, you felt your gut wrenching in pain as the sudden urge to scream, run and throw up rushed through your whole body, suddenly the air felt too thick to breathe, your skin was icy cold and your lips trembled.

“Oh” is all you said, not even a word just a mere sound ‘Oh’ though it sounded nonchalant deep inside it held all the emotions, the grief you were going through.

You didn’t cry though. He was not worth your tears, thats what you told yourself as you felt the knot in your throat tightening, deep inside you wanted to burst your lungs out crying for him, cling into his leg and tell him you would change.

However crying was useless, it wasn’t going to help you get him back, on the other hand it would make him see you as a weak woman, you didn’t want that.

“Im sorry”

Right. He is still here, he is sitting on the opposite side of the table, eyes watery, head hung down.

You felt the urge to scoff, he was the one ending this long term relationship why is he swallowing tears? That should be you.

The silence that filled the room by the seconds consumed the both of you, the tension was something that couldn’t have been cut with the sharpest knife. You have a million questions but the main one is why? when did all go wrong?

Millions of memories rushed through your mind as your love for Minho was on the verge of life and death, trying to recall the moment where things when downhill.

“Y/n”

Why does his voice still has that soft caring tone when calling your name in this situation? You felt your stomach twirl, your gaze looking up to meet his.

He stays quiet as you both locked eyes for the first time today. Suddenly he ran out of words.

“Please leave” you needed time for yourself, him being here was pointless now, there was no reason. You didn’t wanna hear him anymore, you didn’t want to see him nor breathe the same air as his.

You wanted him to vanish from your life. He stood up and slowly walked away, he hesitated to leave his heart having a million words to tell you, he wanted to clarify that deep down he cared for you. But he knew better.

Little did you knew he would actually vanish from your life.

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July 18th 2021,

After the breakup you felt you were scarred with the deepest wound ever, two months passed and getting up the bed was the hardest task every morning.

Who would say a person could have such impact on you? To be fair you never thought of breaking up with Minho ever since you two began dating during senior year of high school.

I mean every action he did guaranteed you that he was meant to spend the rest of his lifetime with you. Maybe it was because he applied to the same colleges as you to always keep you close, or because you guys discussed your wedding, pregnancy, sex, kisses, undying love. BULLSHIT that’s what it all was.

You found yourself on the floor, greasy hair, puffy eyes, runny nose, pajamas you been wearing for days— takeout boxes laying next to you alongside soju bottles.

What was the point of living if your reason to live is gone? Were you being dramatic? That’s what your friends said… that’s what your mom said… that’s what everybody said.

“You are overreacting”

Maybe you are, maybe you are not, however you don’t care, you don’t care anymore about anything, that’s why you find yourself in this state.

You can’t cry anymore because there’s no more tears to shed, you can’t continue with your daily life because your daily life didn’t exist anymore. So what now? are you supposed to just suck it up? You don’t even remember how your life was before you started dating him.

Five long years of him next to you, now there was nothing. Just an empty heart and poisonous tears that would sting your cheeks.

The ringing of your phone rung on your ears, you groaned as you stood up. You didn’t check the phone, you didn’t care. Instead you sat on your vanity and looked at this version of you, the sad one, the miserable one.

You gaze slowly shifted to the wrinkled Polaroids of you and him that you tried to rip off but couldn’t because your weak. And just like that you felt your wound bleeding again. That hypothetical one, the deep wound of your heart.

Your phone lit up next to you catching your eye. You vaguely grabbed it to see an unknown text pop on your home screen. It was a video.

You furrowed your brows as you open the displayed media. Your phone dropping to the floor as soon as you realized what it was. A sex tape.

Not any sex tape. It was Minho’s with some other girl. Just like that… the wound got deeper. The video clearly shows the girl recording herself sucking him dry. Even if his face wasn’t shown you knew it was him, you knew every inch of his body better than yours. Also with the fact you could hear his soft moans in the back, pet names that used to be yours and only yours being used on some bitch.

Your knuckles turned white, if you said there weren’t more tears to be shed you were wrong. You walked to your kitchen opening the fridge to get a soju bottle. Drinking it one go, you smashed it on the floor, the glass shattered all over the room. Another bottle was opened.

Fuck you Lee Minho, is what your brain screamed while your heart screamed heart wrenching why’s.

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January 1st 2024,

The colorful lights and the loud bangs of the new years fireworks hovered all over your apartment. Another year passed. Another year without him. Its been about 3 years since Minho broke up with you, and honestly you don’t care about it anymore though the pain always lingered.

However you could feel the wound of your old long term relationship healing as the years passed by. You have had no contact with the man you used to love dearly. He vanished from your life, just as you wished the day he broke up with you. Crazy how someone you love can turn into an stranger in mere of seconds.

You took a long drag of your cigarette as you stare at the invitation of a new years party. Scheduled for Jan 8th. You had the feeling he was going to be there since you were invited by Changbin, a mutual friend of yours.

You wanted to go, and not because deep down your heart longed to see him, but because you truly felt like a party was what you needed, it's been a while since you last went to one and had actual fun with friends and new people; However, you hesitate to reply, as you had no clue how you could react if you were to cross paths with him. You still had a bunch of unanswered questions for him and though you craved an answer you needed to move on. His love was dead as much as you were.

The next couple days were filled with crippling anxiety, you hated that after 3 years the thought of him still lingered in your mind. However how could he not? He used to be your world mere years ago.

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January 8th,

You applied your cherry tone lipstick, trying your best to not mess up as your hands trembled. You looked at yourself in the mirror longer than you’ve wished. Your dress was completely neat yet you kept passing your hands over it.

“You got this”

You mumbled as you took another look at yourself, you looked divine, smooth skin, perfect hair and dress that snatched your body perfectly. It was his loss it really was.

The pang of your heart increasing with ever step you to took to the main entrance of the party. As you entered the music automatically ringing in your ears as it progressively got louder the deeper you went inside the house.

“Y/n” You heard a cheerful voice call out for you, it was Changbin alongside with Seungmin. You gave them a sheepish smile. The two boys stared at you reassuringly, they been your friends for so long… they knew.

They knew about the way your stomach twirled and your heart pang with the thought of seeing him and you hated that with your soul.

“Your late, I thought you were going to ditch us” Seungmin said with a warm smile trying to break the tension that was surrounding you.

You chuckled nervously, they know why you late. “Don’t press it Seungmin, she arrived at the best time, everyone is drunk meaning the party is about to get lit” Changbin jumped up and down gaining a glare from the younger one.

You laughed this time sincerely, gaining a bright smile from the boys. “Do you wanna join us at games?” Changbin said and you nodded.

In a place filled with hundreds of people, you are the one my eyes look for every time I look around.

The burning sensation of the tequila hitting your throat made you squint your eyes as hard as you could as you downed your shot refusing to answer the question being asked on the game of truth or dare.

“Would you talk to him if he was here?”

Crazy how a simple hypothetical question made your whole body spin.

You could hear the boys scolding the person who asked the question as you bit onto the lemon. You didn’t wanna play anymore and they knew, but you didn’t want to feed into their perspective of you being a weak woman. So you sucked it up.

Today it seems that they’ve decided to make it a target to get you wasted as all the questions they asked revolved around him, guess that's what you got for making your love for him your whole personality back then.

Chan scolded everyone a million times for bringing him up, however you reassured him it was ok. He knew it wasn’t. Yet he was just as curious as everyone else on why you two broke up. And as painful as it was you didn’t know the answer to most of their questions either.

You excused yourself to go to the bathroom. It wasn’t until you stood up that you realized how drunk you were. “I’ll go with you,” Felix said, ensuring you would make it safely to the bathroom.

The conversation that bloomed between the two of you as you walked to the bathroom was pleasant, maybe it was because of the way he slightly flirted with you or because as you two talked you spotted a pair of eyes looking at the two of you with anger in them.

Fuck you.

Before you could even made it to the bathroom you were pulled into a kiss, not that it was unpleasant, it was unexpected… more like uninvited, you haven’t kissed anyone since Minho.

And not because you couldn’t but because you wanted your first kiss after the breakup to be significant, as significant as the ones you gave Minho during your relationship.

This kiss meant nothing to you, just the desperate desire of love to be loved.

Tears creeped into your eyes as you locked eyes with Minho while Felix’s plump lips were on yours, his hands roaming on your waist. Since when things turned like this? You could see Minho swallowed a lump that formed in his throat.

His eyes looked red-ish, sadness lingering in them. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t believe his poisonous tears. Fake tears. Same tears you saw the last time you saw him when he broke up with you.

Fuck it.

You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around the blond boy’s neck. Gaining a soft moan from him, you smirked into the kiss as you opened your eyes again. This time no one was there anymore. The brunette boy was long gone… again.

The wet kisses being placed on your neck and the leg in between your legs was not enough to get him out of your mind, Felix was too drunk to even notice you were standing stiff against the wall with a blank face.

You played with Felix hair as you slowly pushed him away. The freckled boy gave you a sweet smile, the blush of his cheeks rushing to his ears.

“Sorry y/n, I got carried away” His words were sincere and warm, but what can you expect from one of the purest souls you know. You reciprocated his smile and pecked his cheek.

“It's fine lix” You said softly as you walked away. While Felix had a full-on makeout session with you, you made up your mind. And you would face your biggest fear.

Your body walked aimlessly through the crowd of people that filled the house, you tried your best to walk as straight as you could, but those shots of tequila you had while playing truth or dare added a weight to your shoulders. It wasn't until you crashed on a firm body that you snapped out of whatever was on your mind.

Maybe you underestimated the seriousness of the situation once you were face-to-face with him. The whole scene felt like something out of a book, his sharp features looked more prominent under the soft light of the neon lights, the music blasting in your ears and the people that constantly crashed on you as they danced were quickly erased from the face of the earth, as all your attention revolved around him.

“You are drunk” His voice had a cold tone you never heard before, not even when you barely knew each other. You began to understand why people thought of him as a cold person, it was the first time you saw him using his shield on you; just like that the first dagger stabbed your heart.

You scoffed softly as you looked at the floor, taking a deep breath to get your act together, missing the way his gaze was fixated on the hickeys Felix had given you previously, he pressed his tongue against his cheek annoyed at the sight.

“I don't want to talk to you right now" You tried to say firmly, however you could hear your own voice trembling. Minho knew he should have just gone and left you alone but he didn't want to, and as selfish as it sounded he wanted to stick around just so no one else would touch or even look in your direction.

After a while of fighting with his own thoughts, he grabbed your wrist to pull you outside the party "We need to talk" He said as he led you out to the balcony, stopping in his tracks as he felt you trying to pull away.

“Please not now” Your voice cracked, you sounded vulnerable. He could feel his heart dropping to his stomach as he heard your voice, he hated how much he had corrupted your happpiness, he was always aware of your emotional status, maybe he hadn't been present these past three years but he often checked on you, finding himself going to your favorite spots and watch you from afar.

You sucked your breath as you turned around to leave, he knew this wasn’t the moment but while you weren’t looking he took a second to admire your delicate beauty, the one he fell in love with, the one he still loves but it is kept a secret as his emotions are trapped in a bottle deep inside his heart.

“You are drunk” He said as his warm fingertips rubbed around your wrist. You felt an electric shock tensing your muscles. “Call it a night and let me drive you home” You should have said no. That’s what your brain kept telling you, however you didn’t listen. The moment you nodded your head it felt like the biggest betrayal ever.

The ride to your house felt nauseatingly nostalgic, he remembered the shortcuts he used to take, your favorite song playing on the car radio. You were too drunk for this.

As you were getting out of the car, you stumbled making him worried you wouldn’t make it safe to your door. You protested against him, but he wouldn’t budge. Walking you to your apartment, hand on your waist as you grabbed into his shirt for steadiness.

Your heart jolted with joy, the whole scenario that your head was creating was fake but you blamed the alcohol, just enjoy the moment and play pretend.

He helped you enter your apartment, helped you clean up, and gave you pills to prevent the hangover, the whole interaction felt too domestic for a man who became a stranger three years ago. You wonder what he has been up to, and yeah maybe you stalked his social media here and there, but he was too mysterious— there was never something new on there.

“Minho” You said in a soft voice as you struggled to stay awake, his soft gaze looked at you as he sat on the edge next to you, his hand softly caressing your hair “Let's talk… someday” You sounded weak, you hated that.

The last thing you recall before blacking out was a chaste kiss on your cheek that reassured your question.

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January 9th

You woke happier than usual, filled with a lot of energy, you found it odd since you swore you blacked out last night, matter of fact you don’t even remember how you got home.

You did remember your dream vividly though, Minho taking care of you like he used to when you two were dating. Perhaps and that’s why you felt energized, you were unsure of it.

Turning on the shower you took a long steamy shower, today you wanted to feel pretty just like your mood. You even did your hair and makeup, you had nowhere important to go, but you might as well.

Once you were done you walked over to your kitchen, and thats when your heart dropped.

You could smell the fresh aroma of breakfast— walking closer to spotted a plate with french toast and berries, a cup of coffee on the side alongside a note.

“Im writing this since you probably forgot about last night, and before you freak out no we didn’t do anything, sorry I stayed the night, I just wanted to make sure you were ok, here is some breakfast in compensation.

Also lets meet up next week, I’ll send you a text with deets”

- Minho

You could feel your stomach twirling as you read the note. No way what you thought was a dream was actually real.

Honestly, you hoped he would forget about it but it's Lee Minho, something about him is that he never forgets stuff, which was a blessing and a curse considering that he never forgot any detail about you or important dates, however, he never forgot your weakness either.

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February 12th

Minho has been texting you nonstop since that night, often sending good morning texts to check on you, etc. You hated the way you woke up every day with the thought of finding his texts on your phone. His been wanting to meet up with you to have a proper conversation but to be fair you were unsure of it.

"I don't know Chaewon" You groaned as you threw your head against the table, Chaewon laughed softly as she took a sip of her coffee. "Girl look, Im in no position to talk about Minho's business, but I've heard from Jisung that he went through some hard shit even before you two broke up if anything you weren't the only one suffering," Chaewon said as she moved her gaze towards you, your head laying on the coffee table while looking out the window.

"And? I don't care that bitch made me lose myself, he can't just come back whenever he wants to" You said stubbornly standing on your own business "You know that's the biggest cap ever, you do care, and plus who said he wants to go back with you? what if he just wants to talk and finally tell you why he decided to cut off the relationship? Cause you know damn well it wasn't because he didn't love you anymore" You rolled your eyes softly at her remark.

You know she was right and you hated that. "Bitch you are supposed to be on my side, what happened to hater Chaewon?" You said frustrated making her laugh "She died the moment she learned the other side of the story," She said making you scoff "I will never get why you and Jisung refuse to tell me his side of the story"

"Because that's none of our business, Minho should be the one to tell you" You sat up straight on your chair looking defeated "Chaewon..." You spoke softly, "I'm scared" She gave you an encouraging smile "Girl, trust me..." She paused briefly taking a deep breath "The worst thing that can happen if you two meet is him leaving again but this time for good" She then took a sip of her coffee.

"Being honest it all depends on your reaction when he tells you his side of the story, but I must say you two might end up bawling your eyes" Chaewon suddenly laughed when she saw yours eyes widen.

"You'll be fine trust."

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February 14th,

After your little coffee date with Chaewon, you went home and texted Minho that you were ready to meet up and talk in person, however, should you find it suspicious that after a month of casual contact since the New Year's party, he suddenly texted you on Valentine's Day that he would drop by your house? Yes.

You were sitting on your living room couch as you re-read the text over and over, did he mean today? now? You quickly got up and rushed to your room to get ready, however, you stopped. Should you look casual? yeah, it might be Valentine's Day but he is not your date.

After sitting on the floor with a bunch of clothing options you decided to not think much about it, I mean yeah it's Valentine's Day but it's also February 14th, just another date on the calendar.

You wore your favorite pair of new balances, black track pants, and a cute crop top along with all your jewelry, like you said it's just another date on the calendar, therefore, you dressed casually. Just another day.

You arrived to the cafe downstairs your apartment. You immediately spotted him, baggy jeans with a black hoodie with the picture of a cat. Great, he was also dressed casually. Just another day.

“Hey” you said softly as you scooted on the chair in front of him. It would be weird to say this wasn’t awkward however it really wasn’t, and that just made you more uneasy about this whole interaction.

He looked up from his phone to look at you, and he smiled softly. In all honesty, it was hard for him to be here for so many reasons, and this is the main reason why he fought with himself this morning to come here and not ditch you.

Before the breakup, Minho was going through some issues on his own, which would eventually evolve to be the main reason why he left you. He knew he would hurt you sooner or later, so he decided to do it quick, leaving the situation as vague as possible as his heart imposed him from opening up to you.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to come back and clear things up” Although he sounded nonchalant you could see the pain in his eyes, maybe Minho was never open with his feelings but his eyes always spoke what he felt.

“Being honest, I couldn’t bring myself to face you, Jisung basically smacked some sense into me” He smiled awkwardly "Plus when I saw you at Binnie's party I felt it was time to stop running away" There was tension surrounding both you that made it hard to breathe.

“It’s fine… have you tried the pudding here?” Maybe you knew he was here to tell you something, but you also knew the knot in his throat was making it hard for him, so you chose to break some of the tension. Just another day.

Thinking about it, it’s kinda ironic how forgiving you are of him, he left you with no explanation, made you lose yourself and on top of that he never dared to show up again after three years and no. The cherry on top is the sex tape you have engraved deep down on your brain of him and some other bitch.

You could feel the rage boiling inside of you, but you quickly shrugged it off as he began speaking “I haven’t…” He was hesitant with his answer, something tells you that he has tried it before but he wanted to pleasure you by pretending he didn't.

You just nod as you suggest he try it, and once the waiter comes around to pick up your order, he gives you a vague smile as he orders for both of you.

Just another day. You have been sitting in this cafe with him just talking about life as if you are back in time and you two are together again. It’s smooth and pleasant, there's chuckles here and there. However, he is not talking. He is not addressing the big elephant in the room and it's bothering you, however, you stood quiet, waiting for him to feel ready.

“This might be weird, but you think he could keep talking in your apartment? I kinda want a more private place” He has always been a confident man, and you know that, however, he sounds weak and insecure, completely opposite of who he is.

Maybe and the break up also made him lose himself? Little did you know he lost himself way back before the breakup.

Once in your apartment he sat on your living room as you poured some wine for both of you, after a while of thinking you figured some alcohol would help him loose his tongue and speak fearlessly to you.

“Thanks” He muttered, immediately taking a sip of the wine. “To be fair what I’m about to tell you is not easy for me, but I know you want answers and I want to help you find them as much as I can” His voice was sincere, soft, and vulnerable, you could feel a squeeze in your heart.

“I won’t pressure you into talking” Although you tried to sound sincere and gentle, the hidden anger inside of you was slightly present in your tone. You hated yourself for being bad at hiding it.

He chuckled softly at your tone, he knew you were mad at him and so was he "I sound like a hypocrite I know, I broke up with you yet I'm the one making a big deal to just clear things up" The room was quiet for a moment, it felt cozy, the gentle sunlight from the sunset hovering over the living room, the soft breeze of spring moving the dried trees with flower buds on them, but most importantly he was there. After three years, there he sat on your couch, you wondered if he noticed you changed it, you wondered if he noticed that you changed it because of him.

His soft sigh broke the silence and darted your attention to him, he fidgeted nervously with his fingers as he kept his gaze on the window. "Do... Do you remember our life plan" You knew words had power but you never realized how much power they had. Your stomach twirled in anxiety at the memories.

The sweet memories of him and you cuddling in bed some Tuesday afternoon as you both made life plans. You nodded, biting your lip as the urge to cry became present. "How could I forget, we planned to live in a peaceful neighborhood, adopt a few cats, and raise our children with love and virtue" You chuckle softly attempting to cut whatever tension was forming in the room.

At the sound of your soft laugh, he smiled melancholically "The day we talked about our kids, made me realize how much I wanted to be a father... especially with you" He took a deep breath and your eyebrows furrowed as you listened to him.

"I... I really wanted to be a father" His voice cracks softly as his words hold an incredible amount of weight on him "So I went to my doctor to have my annual check-ups" A knot began to form on your throat as you began predicting where this was going.

"He... he told me I can't have kids" His voice broke into soft sobs "I wanted to tell you about it, but seeing how in love you were with the idea of having a baby... I couldn't... so I kept it to myself" He stood quiet as he tried to get himself together.

"My emotions eventually began fogging my brain, and I felt I had to distance myself to prevent hurting you... however, seeing how happy you were every time you saw me after days of me treating you like shit made me resent you" His voice raised with each word we spoke as his emotions began overwhelming him.

"I didn't resent you because I was mad at you, but because you still loved me after the way I treated you during our last weeks of dating" You looked at him with teary eyes while he still refused to look at you "I didn't deserve your love, yet you never stopped loving me... and I never stopped loving you either..." The silence in the room felt deafening, there were so many things you had to process, many things to take into consideration. He then grabbed the courage to move his gaze towards yours, your lips half parted in shock as the sudden confession made you feel dizzy.

"Minho... I..." You were at a loss for words, so many things to say but nothing was coming out, a single tear fell down your cheeks, your conversation with Chaewon repeating in your head, she was right both of you were about to bawl your eyes out.

"Why you never told me?" You quickly wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek, you were tired of crying for this man, you were tired of everything "Because I was scared of losing your love y/n" He screamed at you making you lose your patience.

"That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard Minho" You screamed back but then took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down, however, you failed. "Do you know how many nights I cried for you? The amount of times I wondered what was wrong with me? You hurt me and left me, like you didn't care and you expect me to believe this was your reason? Because you can't have stupid babies?" You stopped at your last sentence when you realized what you said, you let your anger control your words and now unconsciously you stabbed a knife into Minho's wound.

He looked unfazed by your words, again he was using the mask everyone talked about, the one that never let anyone see his emotions, however, you didn't miss the way his lips slightly curled up, that's how you knew it deeply hurt him.

He scoffed softly "Stupid babies?" He laughed "I guess I lost myself over something you didn't really care about" He stood up from the couch and looked at you one more time "Sorry for wasting your time" You quickly stood up to stop him from leaving but words didn't leave your mouth as you blankly stared at him storming out your house.

"The worst thing that can happen if you two meet is him leaving again but this time for good"

Chaewon's words stroke your heart as you are left alone in your apartment.

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March 18th

"How many times do I've to tell you, I won't talk to him again" You groaned as a very exasperated Jisung paced in circles in your living room "C'mon y/n, you have to admit that what you crossed the line, I mean I understand the anger but really? did you not hear what he was telling you?" Honestly, at that moment, you felt you could smack Jisung in the face.

This past week was filled with a bunch of guilt trips not only by your friends but also by yourself "You know what Ji?" You said bluntly "I'm tired. Tired of everything, why am I suddenly the bad guy? Why does it feel like my side of the story is being invalidated?" You could feel tears creeping in your eyes.

Jisung sat down next to you as he took a deep breath "I'm sorry..." He said softly "It's just... I've seen both of you hurting for so long, I just want for both of you to finally clear things out" You understood Jisung's point, he was your and Minho's friend, he knew both points of view perfectly and you never really thought how that might of been a weight for him too.

"I get it... I also wish we could talk things out but... it's hard you know?, we both got our own wounds and it's hard to talk without making one of them bleed" You took a deep breath "That's the most poetic shit I've heard in a while" You couldn't help but laugh at his statement, nudging his shoulder playfully "Shut the fuck up" He laughed along with you.

"You think he would let me talk to him?" You said as you both stopped laughing "It would be a hard task but not impossible, his soft spot for you is one of the most loyal things I've seen" You smiled softly at his remark.

"You know... I've got an idea... so next week the 24th I have to take care of my baby nephews, however, that same day I got a final, I was going to make Minho babysit them for me, but to be fair he will definitely need help" You squinted your eyes at his suggestion "I don't know Ji..." He was quick to interrupt you "Shshshs don't say a single word you are babysitting with him"

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March 24th

Jisung left the house a couple of minutes ago, he reassured you that Minho was on his way and that he knew about it. You sat down on the play mat with the two baby twins, they were 2 and a half years old and truly a menace, they wouldn't stop moving around and crawling to be on top of you.

Although you felt overwhelmed it felt nice, playing with them made you forget about Minho and your current situation, you had one of the babies in your arms while the other one showed you some toys and spoke nonsense, you chuckled as you pretended to understand what he was saying.

When Minho entered the house, you were completely unaware of him as he stood at the entrance of the living room looking at you, looking at how domestic you looked with the babies. He couldn't help but fantasize if this is what it would feel like if he were to come home to you with your own babies.

He hated the way butterflies would rush down his body to his... 'Get it together Minho' He scolded himself, he was supposed to be mad at you not feel this way.

"You are not Chan" He finally spoke making himself present, you and the babies fixated your gaze on him and he could feel his heart melting "Huh? Jisung told me you knew you were babysitting with me" You said slightly confused.

"He lied then, he told me Chan was helping me out with the kids" You nodded awkwardly making a mental note to smack Jisung's face later. Although the tension between you and Minho was prominent, the babies made sure to keep both of you busy, constantly crying because they were hungry, needed a change of diapers, wanted attention, etc.

Both of you sat down on the couch exhausted when you managed to get them to sleep, the silence felt nice after all the noise that came from the babies, and you sighed softly "I'm sorry" it was unexpected, you didn't expect yourself to say it, it just came out, it was sincere and you hoped Minho knew.

"Sorry for what?" He said genuinely confused making you raise an eyebrow as you moved your gaze to meet his "You know... for what I said the other day, I didn't mean it I was-" He cut off your words as he chuckled softly.

"Don't worry about it, your reaction was totally valid, I mean I understand why you were mad, it's fine, you did nothing wrong" His words felt like a bandaid being placed in your heart, these past weeks you were convinced you were the bad guy, your friends reminding you your lack of understanding towards him, yet here he was all chill about and validating your feelings, it was just what you needed to hear.

You smiled warmly at him, glad he was able to see the situation from both perspectives, you envied the way he was so mature about it. "Still it was not nice the way I acted, It was immature and I know you, I know you got mad" He nodded in response "I did, and I won't lie I am still a bit salty but I understand your anger I do"

You chuckled softly and bit your lip not sure if you wanted to say this but you eventually got the courage to say it "I didn't know you really wanted to be a father" You said softly trying not to cross any boundaries "It was just a silly dream" He said making you shake your head immediately "It's not silly... You would be the perfect father" You said reassuringly.

"Bullshit" He said in a playful tone making you scoff "Bullshit? I don't know how the hell you managed to put those babies to sleep" You chuckled softly making him smile, his heart beating faster than usual at your compliment.

"Well even if I do have the potential to be a good father— I can't have babies" You noticed the way his voice cracked softly as he said those words, although he was smiling you knew those words were like daggers to his heart. "Bullshit" You said in a confident tone, he moved his gaze back to yours and raised an eyebrow "Bullshit? The doctor said-" You interrupted him before he could "Who cares what the doctor says? don't you know about rainbow babies?"

He was quiet for a while, his gaze focused on yours "We... we never tried to have one... what if" It was his turn to interrupt you "I'm tired of the 'what if' y/n" He sounded defeated and you hated that, this was not the confident man you knew.

"I'm serious though, I never knew you actually wanted to have a baby, if you had discussed it with me we could have gone to an endocrinologist and seen our options... it's not impossible Min..." You sounded frustrated making him sigh "I'm sorry for not telling you it's just, that I was too overwhelmed" He stopped talking when he felt your hand on top of his, he looked down to see them and then up at you.

A single tear rolled down his cheek as regret filled his head, regret of not telling his issue before, regret of closing up to you, when all he needed to heal was you, your reassurance, your love, and your understanding.

You both stood quiet as his tears began falling, you couldn't bare see him like this so you moved to hug him. Once his body was fully engraved on your warm embrace he began crying harder, his tears soaking down on your shirt, but you didn't care. You were finally there for him, something he restricted from himself out of pure spite.

A couple hours passed and the babies woke up again, you and Minho were playing with the kids while both of you also caught up with life, it felt nice, the tension that felt suffocating was finally released.

"Pause... So that video you sent me way back, wasn't you?" He shook his head as he played kitchen with the baby girl "This bitch blackmailed me, a month after we broke up Jisung took me to a stripper club and I might've vented to one of the strippers...." He said embarrassed as you played cars with the baby boy "Tell me the name of the strip club" You said coldly making him laugh.

"Don't worry Chaewon already dealt with her" His remark made you laugh so hard you could barely breathe. The remaining time you both stood at Jisung's house playing with the babies and talking felt nice, way more nicer than it should.

It honestly was impressive how despite the difficulties you both went through, that connection you both had never faded. Once Jisung was back home he couldn't help but smile as he saw both of you getting along.

Both of you served as bandaids to cure each other's wounds.

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March 28th

"How many times do I have to tell you it's not a date?" You told Chaewon who was on the other side of your speaker "Yeah, sure" She said in a mocking tone "Two exes going out for dinner as friends my ass" You couldn't help but laugh softly "You are insufferable" You said making her giggled.

"Says the girl who called me asking me for fashion advice for her D-A-T-E" You rolled your eyes at her remark "It's not a date!" You said frustrated as you finished putting on your dress that hugged your curves perfectly and complimented your eyes and hair.

"Yeah, Yeah, Just remember to wrap it before you tap it," Chaewon said jokingly but her comment made your stomach twirl in anticipation of something occurring tonight.

"Girl- goodbye" You said hanging up the phone before she could finish whatever the hell she was going to say next. Minutes felt like hours and you could feel anxiety rushing through you, you shouldn't be this nervous... after all it's just a friend's hangout. Right? However, waiting for him to text you felt like torture.

The sudden knock on your door took you by surprise, a shiver traveling down your spine as you took a deep breath. He was here, the amount of happiness swirling in your head felt nauseating. You thought he was going to call you to come down, but of course, he had to be the gentleman he is and personally escort you to the car.

The moment you opened the door he felt butterflies rushing down his stomach as he saw you, you looked beautiful, you truly had no idea how much he had missed you. This was supposed to be a casual hangout but the way your long-sleeved dress hugged your waist and fell free at your hips. Made his heart flutter and wish this was a date instead.

"Hey" He said with a shy smile, softly scratching his neck. You swallowed the urge to chuckle at his shy demeanor, it reminded you back to when he first approached you.

"Hey" You replied cheerfully making him smile, you could feel your own nervousness leaving as you realized he was in your same position. Minho and you decided to do some errands first before going to the movies, the car ride was surprisingly pleasing, you both seemed to have so much to talk about. The soft music playing in the background as you casually averted your eyes from him to the window as he spoke.

You weren't quite sure what exactly he was saying, but the melody of his voice was welcomed by your ears. The first stop was the pet shop, while Minho made his way to the cat section to buy his cat's food, you took a turn to see the little animals, your heart melting at the sight of the lovely animals on display. As you read the description of each animal, you couldn't understand how a human out there would purposely abandon such cuties.

Maybe you were too invested in the animals you didn't notice him calling your name, it wasn't until you felt a warm hand on your back and butterflies rushing down your stomach that you turned around to meet his eyes. "All done?" You asked as you looked at his hand that was carrying the cat food. "Yup" He said with a smile "No toys for the babies?" You asked playfully, however his heart skipped a beat at the question, making him wonder why he felt like this.

"They already have enough," He said with a chuckle as you squinted your eyes and shook your head "They deserve to be spoiled, but you are their father so whatever" You giggled as you both walked to the cashier. Again Minho wondered why his heart kept missing a beat with each word you spoke.

He wasn't expecting anything from tonight, he truly just wanted to spend time with you after so long, make your relationship better... as friends of course, but the more he interacted with you the more desperate his heart turned for you.

The moment you both sat in the movie theater it was an instant regret for Minho to have suggested it. Memories flooded both of your minds as you both sat next to each other. MInho cleared his throat and looked at you. "Popcorn?" He offered you with a thin smile, you wanted to laugh at that moment, if he was trying to make the situation less awkward he was failing to do so.

"No, I'm fine" You said in a soft whisper as the movie began. The whole time you couldn't really focus on whatever movie was on display, your gaze kept averting to his hand that rested on his leg. You hated yourself for wishing his hand was on your leg instead.

Take it slow.

You kept reminding yourself, this was a hangout as friends nothing more, it hurts slightly the thought of it, but after the complicated situation you both faced this past years, it was better to take things slow, who knows maybe you both will end up together? maybe not? whatever destiny the world was for you both.

Minho didn't know if he was tripping or not but he swore he could see you looking at his hand, to be fair he wasn't paying attention to the movie either he was too focused looking at your every move with his peripheral vision. he thought you might be cold as your legs were exposed to the theater air conditioner, so he took his jacket off and gently placed it on your legs.

The action took you by surprise the warm jacket on your legs did feel nice, and as he placed it on you, you could smell his scent all over you, how much have you missed that scent. You leaned closer to him, your breath hitting his cheek as you spoke a soft "Thank you"

That moment felt like pure temptation to Minho, they say God likes to test his strong soldiers, however, Minho was 100% sure he was not his strongest soldier when it came to you.

Soft moans echoed in the theater, both of your bodies stiffened as a sex scene came up, honestly what's the deal with movie franchises adding unnecessary sex scenes in their movies? Can we talk about it? At that moment you could feel a tension forming between both of you, was it awkwardness, or was it a hidden desire? You don't know but you closed your legs together trying to stop any lustful thoughts from popping on your mind.

You noticed the way he shifted on his seat awkwardly, looking at his phone to check the weather, you chuckled to yourself, feeling playful you leaned to tease him "Can't handle a sex scene hm?" You chuckle softly, he moves his gaze from his phone to look at you. His desire woke up with each word you said.

You were going to tease him? two can play that game, was it a dangerous move? maybe, but fuck it, let the night take whatever route it wants.

He turned to face you and leaned closer, his face just inches away from yours, you took a second to admire his eyes and features, you never forgot how handsome this man was from up close. "It's not that I can't handle the scene, I just can't handle my inner thoughts" The tone and the look he gave you was more than enough to let you know what he was thinking.

You were both on the same page. Involuntarily you squeezed your thighs together, he noticed, his eyes looking down at your covered legs, he smirked making you nudge his shoulder "Focus on the movie" You scolded him as you turned your attention back to the movie, not missing the way butterflies twirled around stomach and the evident heat on your cheeks.

The ride to your house was quiet, there was a tension lingering in there, but unlike the heavy uncomfortable one, this one was a little more light-headed, more enticing. Your footsteps were the only sound echoing through the hallway to your apartment, he followed behind you, he wasn't too close but he was close enough for you to feel his warmth and presence.

When you opened the door you turned to look at him, the silence felt deafening, both of you stared at each other, you didn't miss the way his eyes slightly moved to get a glimpse of your lips. You were both desperate to feel each other, that was no secret, but who would make the first move? most importantly was it the right time to make a move?

Your thoughts were interrupted when his hand flew to your waist and pushed you closer to his body, his lips crashing against yours. You felt on cloud 9, suddenly everything felt more vivid you could swear hearts and stars were flying around you both.

His soft plump lips felt as if a feather was brushing against your lips, it felt tender, full of love yet you wanted more, you needed more. When he moved his lips away from yours a soft whine escaped your lips, making you embarrassed.

Although he wanted to laugh his worries took over him, he looked at your eyes for ay sign of discomfort, maybe even regret but he saw none. "I'm sorry, I know its too soon-" His words were interrupted as you placed a finger on his lips.

"Too soon?" Maybe it was soon but to be fair you have been waiting for this kiss for some time now, so yeah maybe it was soon, but rhetorically it wasn't, you waited long enough. And if he feels the same way you do, what is really stopping you?

"Min..." He felt his breath hitching at how lovely his nickname escaped your lips, it's been so long since he last heard it... it felt nostalgic. "I'm not sure if it's too soon for you, but to be honest I've waited long enough for that kiss" Before you had the chance to say another word, his lips were on yours again, and this time he pushed your body inside your apartment and closed the door behind, his lips not daring to leave yours in case you realized you didn't want this.

As the kiss progressed you could feel your knees turning weak, the way he caressed your waist while his other hand was on your cheek was enough to send you down a spiral, however when you felt his warm tongue brushing against your bottom lip, desperately asking for access inside your mouth was when you lost it.

He groaned softly as his tongue danced with yours, you began feeling light-headed, maybe it was because of lack of air but you didn't care you didn't want to leave his lips.

"Y/n..." He said in a pleading tone as he panted for air once the kiss broke, his eyes looked darker than normal yet they looked tender, his body was still pressed against yours, his hand moving up and down your sides. "I need you" Your heart dropped as your blood rushed through your body. This night was going to take a different route.

You were currently leaning back against the wall while he left a trail of wet pecks on your neck, your body shivered as the delicate kisses fogged your mind, it was a sensation you couldn't really describe. A groan left your lips as he nibbled on the soft spot you used to love, he remembered. "Aren't you getting greedy?" Although you wanted to tease him your voice was shaky, too high in the ecstasy of having his lips attached to your neck.

"I'm sorry princess, you have no idea how bad I'm craving you" He said in a low tone as he nibbled your lobe, your eyes closed shut and a soft whimper was heard, he pressed his body harder against yours, too desperate and touched deprived for you. "Fuck" He mumbled when his erection brushed against your crotch, your dress rolling up as he grinded on your vaguely.

The wave of wetness that pools between your thighs immediately soaks your underwear. It takes every bit of your lingering self-control to not moan at the sensation.

Even so, the desire and lust took over your body with each minute passing, his hands traveled up and down your legs, pausing to lift and wrap your leg around his hip. So this is what heaven feels like. It's been so long since you last felt like this. You nearly moaned as you felt his erection pushing against your pelvis.

His face was at the crook of your neck as his desperate whimpers traveled through your body. "Oh fuck—" Your mind went blank, losing yourself at the delight of his touch you began whimpering.

"Can we go to my room?" You hid your face when he shifted to look at you, too shy to look him in the eyes. It's been so long since you both were intimate, yet you never lost that alluring presence that hypnotized Minho every time.

"Whatever my princess desires" He said softly as he looked down at you, your soft blush and trembling body, the way your dress was messy because of how desperate he was touching you, sent a rush of heat down his dick.

He grabbed you bride-style as he walked to your room, opening the door your sweet scent embraced his nose, he was getting drunk on you. He gently placed you down on the bed, the fairy lights of your room plus the soft moonlight that crept through the windows added to the vibe going on.

You could see his sharp features as he hovered on top of you, he moved your hair gently out of your face and giggled "I've missed you" he said in a tender tone before he leaned to leave pecks all over your face, you giggled along him until his lips crashed on yours.

The kiss was slow yet passionate, taking your time to taste each other properly, the string of saliva created wet sounds that echoed in the room, he took this time that you were distracted as an opportunity to spread your legs with his hand, his soft fingertips leaving ghostly touches all over your legs and inner thighs.

Three years and he still knew how to get you ready for him, although you had been ready ever since you two started making out at your front door. He broke the kiss to move down your body, his intense gaze never leaving yours, as he began kissing your legs, in a painfully slow rhythm, he knew what he was doing, he wanted to get you all needy for him.

However, he was also making this hard for himself, as he was also getting impatient, he moved back up so he could nibble on your neck, soft moans escaping your lips, making a sweet melody for his ears. His body involuntarily pressed against yours Yours and his moans bleed into one another as your clothed cores come into contact. Minho's fingers tightened on your leg, it was definitely gonna bruise overnight.

You wonder if he can feel the extent of your wetness against the front of his jeans, as your dress had rolled up and you were basically on just your panties, all thoughts are chased away when he drags his finger on top of your drench mound. "Fuck princess" He hisses, his hand beside your head tightening into a fist, his face pressed against your neck "Feeling how wet your pussy is for me is making it hard for me to just not cum" How you loved the chokehold you had on this man right now.

His words only motivate your intentions, thrusting your hips into his fingers, desperate to create some type of friction. Seeking more leverage, you wrapped your legs around his waist pressing him against your clothed cunt. His face traveled down your collarbone sucking and biting on it as he hand massaged your breasts.

"Fine. I’ll give you what you want” He said breathlessly as he sat to take his pants off, your gaze never left his as you admired his body, he was indeed the man of your dreams, you pressed your thighs together and bit your lip.

A loud moan escaped your lips when his tip tap on your clothed cunt. He moved it up and down your drenched panties to coat his dick with your arousal. You both breathed heavily at the sensation. He looked at you for reassurance, his priority was your comfort and that made him even hotter at that moment, you nodded your head and smiled at him, letting him know that you wanted this as much as him.

He teased you by gliding his hands up and down your inner thighs but not touching your cunt, when your moans got desperate, he moved his index finger up and down your slit, he then used that finger to move your panties aside, he felt his cock twitching at the sight of your wet pussy.

He leaned closer to blow on it and then gave it a kiss "I missed what mine" He said possessively as he bit your inner thigh, you moaned at that, you felt loved something you hadn't felt in quite some time.

The way your warm cunt clenched on his tip was making it hard for him to go slow, he wanted to go slow and stretch you out properly since you didn't let him give your foreplay due to your impatience. But how could he restrain himself when your hand is playing with your clit in front of him?

And oh god you were indeed the devil because of the way you desperately moaned his name so he would go all in, if it wasn't for your greediness he would have done way more than just put his cock deep inside you, but he couldn't say no to you, not when you have full control of his body and mind.

The lewd sounds embraced the room, the sloppy sound of your arousal and the thump of his pelvis hitting yours turning both of you even more. His lips crashed into yours as he felt his cock deep inside your wall, he kissed you passionately, his hand leaving a feather touch on your leg.

Although everything felt so sudden, it felt right. The passion the lust everything. It felt like the best timing despite the previous circumstance, lord how badly you missed him, and not only for his cock but for the way he always made you feel like a princess, you were his queen.

It wasn’t until his kisses got sloppier that you knew he was close to cum, you grabbed his hair and squeezed it tightly as your back arched, the feeling of his cock twitching was sending you to cloud 9 and it made your mind blank as moans left your mouth shamelessly.

If you thought he couldn’t go any deeper you were wrong. His dick rubbed that spot that’s been getting teased for a while now. He pressed his hand on your stomach just so he could see how deep his dick was inside you. And oh lord the sight of his dick drove him to the edge.

You both cling to one another as your high approach one after another. Minho's groan triggered a release that spilled white-hot bliss through your veins. The feeling of your cunt clenching around him made you pant for air, you both stayed still for some minutes.

He then began kissing your neck again which made you chuckle, as you moved to play with his hair. "Can we start over?" His voice was shaky, you could tell the question triggered some anxiety in him, you moved your hand to caress his neck to soothe his nerves.

"Asking me that while I'm cock warming you is crazy" You tease him making him groan "I'm serious... I want to take you out on dates again, I need you in my life again" His words triggered something inside you making you clench your cunt, he moaned as he was still sensible, making you blush embarrassed "Sorry" You mumbled making him laugh.

"I'll take that as a yes" He said making you laugh, his lips attaching to yours once again. "How about we do a round two but you let me see them..." He stopped talking to squeeze your breast, you chuckled playfully as you pecked his lips.

"Anything my prince desires" You said before wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his lips. Time might've separated the two of you, but the bond you both had was stronger than any misunderstanding.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Have His Cake And Eat It Too

Male Serial Killer Yandere x Gender Neutral Immortal Reader (CW: Noncon, blood, violence, murder, death, cannibalism and reader forced into cannibalism, kidnapping, general yandere behavior, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, cursed immortal reader) Word Count: 500 (This is really bloody and dark compared to what I normally write, but it is also a drabble and does not contain the usual level of detail my other fics do, if you have played boyfriend to death and its sequel you may recognize some similarities between those characters and my Serial Killer Yandere, he is a bit of a mix between Strade, Ren, and Lawrence, though I still feel he is unique.)

Imagine there is a serial killer loose in your area. He finds people that meet his criteria, the specific personality and aesthetic that he desires in a partner, and he falls head over heels in love with them. He kidnaps them, doting on them, feeding them, clothing them, bathing them. But his love for them grows and grows. Serial Killer Yandere rapes them, forcing himself inside so he can feel them surround his cock. Serial Killer Yandere starts to cut them more and more, enjoying the sight of beautiful red blood on their otherwise flawless skin. But Serial Killer Yandere needs them to be a part of them. Serial Killer Yandere needs to be closer to them. Serial Killer Yandere really can’t help it, his love is just so strong. Serial Killer Yandere cuts them open and grips their heart, feeling it beat in his hand as they slowly bleed out. He consumes it, he held their very life in his hands and made it a part of him. But now he is alone again and needs a new darling. Serial Killer Yandere meets you for a date. You are exactly what he wants, even better than the ones that came before you. He kidnaps you like all the others after drugging your drink. You wake up with a chain on your ankle, dressed in delicate clothing. He dotes on you. He bathes you. He feeds you. He soothes you. He fucks you so hard just to see those beautiful tears stream down your face, the prettiest tears he has ever seen. Serial Killer Yandere loves you more and more, very quickly. Serial Killer Yandere can’t help himself, he knows he will miss you but he must be closer. His hand is in your chest, gripping your heart. Your blood leaves you as everything fades. You die. While you are dying he has never felt more in love, but once you are gone the familiar emptiness is quick to fill him. But you are not like the others. You don’t stay dead. In the morning when he comes to take care of your corpse and appreciate your beauty one last time before burying you with all the rest of his loves he sees that you are fine. You aren’t human. Not anymore. You were cursed to never be allowed to die hundreds of years ago. Serial Killer Yandere is shocked. He thinks he is losing it. Serial Killer Yandere kills you over and over, taking your heart for himself each time. You’re always back the next morning. Serial Killer Yandere becomes thrilled. Serial Killer Yandere force feeds you your own heart and shares it with you sometimes the day after he has killed you again. The curse transfers to him, and he discovers after dying due to an accident one day that he is unable to die. Now Serial Killer Yandere can have his cake and eat it too~ Forever <3

[ivysangel]

hello angel 💕

as much as i love confident, cocky jason in bed, i also think he doesn’t have a lot of experience (just go with me here). between dying young and his all consuming question for revenge, i don’t think he’s actually had that many sexual partners or relationships. simply where would he find the time? like he’s familiar with the mechanics, knows what feels good and how to make a partner feel good, but he doesn’t really have a frame of reference for his preferences.

but that’s the exciting part! he gets to discover what really turns him on and gets him off with you! he figures out that he likes pinning you down and immobilizing you with his body but that ropes are a no go. that fucking you through at least four of your own orgasms first has him cumming so hard there’s stars in his vision. that he doesn’t like pain unless it’s from your nails clawing up his back. everything’s up for grabs and you get to figure it all out with him.

sunnie (@fic-over-cannon)

let out audible noises reading this...my entire body is tingling sunnie like you just CANNOT do this to me. i really don't even...how do i add to this??? what do i say other than i love you!!!!

this basically being the precursor to confident jason?? the first time you guys have sex, it's pretty vanilla, he makes you cum regardless, and it's still amazing and better than most guys with experience, but you can tell he's still a bit unsure of himself. he still hesitates to move too quickly, he's still scared to hurt you, and he still asks, "is this okay?" and "does this feel good?" but not in a sexy "i want to hear you" kinda way, in an "i'm worried i'm doing a bad job" kinda way.

like i said, the sex was never bad, but boy, does it get better when he discovers what he likes. you're play fighting when he finds out he likes it when you can't move under him. he's got you pinned between him and your living room carpet, trying to get out from his hold, and he's literally got a growing boner pressed into you through his pants. ropes are a no-go because not only does he have awful memories associated with them, but the prospect of not being able to touch you and you not being able to touch him pisses him off.

he finds out he likes it when you leave scratches on him one random night after you successfully sneak out of a wayne enterprises gala. expensive shoes and an even more expensive dress on the floor, but those pretty red nails you'd gotten on a whim stay attached to your fingers, leaving bright red lines up and down his back.

he likes it when you wear lingerie but thinks it's hotter when you wear cute matching pajama sets. he's fond of red, but green's his favorite color; you have to stay vigilant with birth control around christmas time. he'll never do public places but a bathroom or car here and there he won't say no to. he likes sex in the morning and in the shower. he likes it in the kitchen and on the couch but prefers the bed. he's not opposed to the floor, but he'll only do it there when he's desperate.

he gets turned on when you show interest in his hobbies and even more turned on when you talk about yours. he likes overstimulating you but not to the point where you're in pain, and he loves getting head but loves eating you out more.

his biggest turn-on is verbal consent; he wants to hear that you want him, and if you want him to do anything unconventional in any way, that's how you go about it. tell him in the middle of dinner how badly you need him, and he'll politely excuse you from the table, drive you guys a few miles away and then pull over and fuck you silly.

[thedreamlessnights]

Hi! I’ve got a request for Astarion and Dark Urge Tav. Like they got together through act 1 and 2 and confessed their feelings for each other, but when they go to see Gortash become Arch Duke Tav realizes that she used to be lovers with Gortash before her memory was wiped. Queue angst and hurt/comfort and fluff and hhhhh Gortash loses plssss

I absolutely loved this concept and had so much fun writing it! Dark Urge's route changed me as a person, and I honestly feel like it's a perfect match for Astarion. Thank you so much for sending this in, and I hope you enjoy!

Aching (Astarion x F!Reader - Dark Urge)

Warnings: Major spoilers for Act III of Baldur's Gate - particularly for the Dark Urge playthrough. Mentions of blood, killing, death, and suicidal ideation. Dark Urge being Dark Urge. Hurt/comfort, self-loathing, angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 4.6k

Like so many other things, the sight of Lord Enver Gortash tugs at a painful spot in your skull. 

You’ve come to differentiate them: the gaping, aching tug of your lost memories and the sharp, swift yank of the tadpole. Somehow, his presence pulls at both of them in equal measure. There’s something on the edge of your tongue, but it won’t be said. A memory behind your eyes, but it won’t be seen. 

One thing is clear enough - you know this man. For better or worse, the two of you have met before.

Karlach clears her throat behind you, and you return to yourself: not lost in the dark void of your memories, not consumed by the itch for blood. Wyrm’s Crossing. 

Gods, you’d nearly forgotten. You’re in the middle of a throne room, surrounded by dozens of people, here for the coronation. Wyll’s father stands in the center of the room, all but a meat puppet under the Absolute’s control. 

The Absolute, which Gortash is a part of.

The soon-to-be Archduke sees you, and something shifts in his gaze. His expression softens. Given all the trouble you’ve been causing for him, that expression comes as a shock - but what he says next is jarring to your core.

“Dearest patriars, but a moment,” he requests. “I must greet a most important guest.” He strolls toward you, arms spread wide as he steps forward, and smiles. “Crawling back from her bloody disgrace - it’s my favorite assassin! Gods, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

And suddenly, you are two pieces of a whole. One longs to step forward, knowing him, wanting him. The other longs for nothing more than to jolt away from him - from the misery you know he’s been causing. Not only to you, or even Karlach, but to your home; Baldur’s Gate.

“Hang on,” Karlach says. “What? You know each other?”

As if you could have possibly known that. As if you’d been willfully keeping it from her. As if your amnesia is a silent betrayal.

“We have important matters to address,” Gortash says dismissively. “My reunion with Karlach can wait.”

Gods, it’s all too much. You’re trying to think, but your mind is swimming in front of your eyes. Your skull throbs. Your heart thuds unevenly in your chest. Something in you is fundamentally disrupted. 

“Don’t talk to me,” you manage to spit out. “Talk to her.”

After all, she deserves it. Ten years in Avernus, a flaming engine in her chest, a slow, painful oncoming death that none of you can prevent - or at least, not while she’s refusing to go back to the hells. She deserves a talk with the man who betrayed her. More than anything.

But Gortash won’t be swayed so easily, it seems. “No offense to my old friend,” he says, not even bothering to look at Karlach, “but it’s you I have been dying to see. After all, you abandoned us some time ago, leaving a rather uncomfortable hole in our plans.”

Fond. His expression is unmistakably fond. 

You don’t know what plans he’s talking about, though. What to say to him? Should you treat him like a friend, exploit his familiarity down to the hilt for the sake of the information you might obtain? Should you be honest and find out more of your lost self? Do you even want to?

As it turns out, it doesn’t matter what you’re planning to say. Gortash sees your face, and that’s enough. “Oh, I’d forgotten,” he remarks, “your memories are quite lost, aren’t they? Orin told me she’d made a fool of you.”

Orin. A picture flashes in front of your mind. Warm blood, oozing from a gash in your head, streaming down into your eyes. A sharp, fierce tug of betrayal that digs into your chest, sours in your mouth like milk. 

Then, another image. A recent memory: Orin. A gruesome suit of skin. A bloodthirsty tongue. The Netherstone in hand.

But Gortash is still talking.

“To think you and Karlach traveled together all this time, and she hadn’t the faintest you were one of my nearest and dearest,” he’s saying.

Karlach tenses, and you suddenly feel sick. Your hands go slick with sweat, and you can feel, not see but feel, the others silently fuming behind you. 

All of this is adding up to one big, horrific picture. A conclusion you despise but can’t deny. Something affectionate in your chest. The admiration in his gaze. The way he’d greeted you. Nearest and dearest. 

Lovers. You and Gortash were lovers. 

The walk back to camp is the most painful of your life - that you can recall, at least. You’d rather be feral again, tied up like an animal on your bedroll, attempting to bite Astarion. 

Part of you wishes you’d decimated Gortash the moment you’d laid eyes on him. If you had, all of this could have been avoided. The swirling guilt in your stomach for something you don’t even remember. The sting of reproof from nearly every single one of your companions. The betrayal in their eyes.

You’d done this. All of it. The Absolute, the march on the city, the tadpole now squirming around in your brain. You and Gortash had planned this out, and now you’ve fallen victim to it. 

It seems like a disconnected idea, a person you can’t imagine being. The further you go on, the less you recognize your old self. The more you despise it.

Gale had certainly chewed you out. Karlach isn’t talking to you. Gods, even Shadowheart is angry. Shadowheart, who should know more than anyone else what this is like. 

Astarion, at least, doesn’t seem as upset as the others. He’s liked his tadpole for the most part. Is some odd part of him grateful for your role in this? For the power it’s given him? You can’t tell. 

You should be able to tell, shouldn’t you?

When the silence becomes unbearable, you grab a bottle of Berduskan Dark as a peace offering and join him at his tent, crawling through the entrance and sprawling yourself over his various pillows. “Do you hate me tonight, too?” you ask lightly.

He raises a brow and rolls one of his shoulders, feigning annoyance. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his tone teasing and casual. “It’s not often I find out the woman I’m with is behind a horrible, malicious scheme to control an elder brain.”

Your words of penance fall flat even before they’ve touched your tongue, so you pour him a glass of wine in response. 

He smiles. “Trying to win me over, darling?” he asks, tilting his head. “You’ve caused quite the commotion around camp, you know. Gale is positively furious.”

That sensation of guilt comes again, but this time, it’s overpowering. It makes you want to crumple in on yourself, to erase the horrid, evil parts of you that are left like bloodstains on a white shirt; things that won’t be scrubbed away, present and never-escapable.

“I didn’t know,” you start, firmly but barely kept together. “I swear, I had no idea-”

“Relax, dearest,” Astarion says. “As you know, me and the tadpole are the best of friends. No need to explain.” He pauses. “Although,” he says, suddenly becoming very interested in inspecting the brim of his glass, “you and Gortash seemed to be old friends, too.”

You know what he’s asking you, and you don’t have it in yourself to lie to him. Instead, you slowly nod, pouring yourself a glass of the wine, too. Gods, do you need it. 

“We were lovers, I think,” you finally answer. “I can’t remember anything about it, but… the way he talked to me. It seemed like we were more than friends.”

He pulls a face. “Well. I certainly hope he won’t be serving as my competition. You can do so much better.”

You stare at him: the sudden tension in his shoulders, the pasted-on, confident smile that plays on his lips, the dark glint to his gaze. 

“You’re jealous.”

He scoffs. “Jealous?” he exclaims, laughing a little. “Of course I’m not jealous. Honestly - it’s hilarious. A Bhaalspawn and Bane’s chosen. In another life, I would have been rooting for the two of you.”

But there’s a crease between his brows, and he won’t quite look at you. You reach out for his hand, and his expression softens. He playfully rolls his eyes, but he takes your hand all the same. “And what is our vicious little mastermind thinking about?” he asks, leaning toward you.

“I’m thinking,” you say, “that Lord Gortash could never compare to you.”

“Oh?” he asks, moving in a little further. He loves preening for compliments, and you love treating him to them. “Do go on, dearest.”

You trail your thumb over his knuckles. “Well, he’s clearly nowhere near as handsome as you are.”

Astarion tilts his head. “Of course he isn’t. The man couldn’t hope to compare with a… world-endingly handsome vampire.” He squeezes your hand, lifting a brow. “Anything else?”

You can’t help smiling now. “His taste in clothing is awful. Didn’t you see his boots?” you ask. “Tacky.”

He scowls. “I did. Horrendous, honestly. And at his coronation, no less,” he remarks, tutting. “Well. I’m glad to see your standards have improved, darling.”

“As am I.” You take a sip of your wine, swirling it in your hand, enjoying the feel of Astarion’s grasp in the other. 

With him, you can almost forget the worst parts of yourself. The others, as much as you love them, only make your crimes seem so much worse. There’s a constant forgiveness sought with each conversation, a debt you can never repay that lingers underneath the way they see you. But not with him.

He mirrors you. He sees you. What you really are, not what you were, not the echo of your old life. All your past grievances, well… those don’t matter to him. Everything you’ve done, he considers himself worse. 

Part of you thinks - if the two of you actually make it through, that is - that bit by bit, you may actually heal. Maybe, you’ll actually have a life with him beyond the tadpoles, and beyond Baldur’s Gate. Maybe, the two of you will build something far beyond those who once controlled you.

And then the night comes.

You leave Astarion in his tent to trance, telling him you mean to sleep even though you have no intention of doing so. You never rest well, but it’s aggravated, lately. The Urge is always at its worst during the night. The shadows reflect your darkest self back at you, and your fingers itch for blood. Your mind becomes a haze of gore. Your teeth fix on a tender part of your cheek and press down until you taste iron. 

You’d like to say that this part of you is a clean split from the other - that it’s easy to tell where the Urge ends and you begin - but it’s not. Your thoughts so often drift. You’d been the one feeling that sickening sense of satiation when Alfira lay dead at your feet, her blood drying on your skin. And it’s you who feels a strange tug toward Gortash - some lingering yearning that won’t be scrubbed away. 

And you try. Gods, do you try. You take a rag and sit at the river and rub until your skin is raw, trying to get the metaphorical blood off your hands, trying to cleanse yourself of the want that pulls at your chest when Gortash slips into your thoughts.

But it doesn’t work. It doesn’t work at all.

The way you want Astarion feels different. It’s grounded. Natural. Being around him feels as easy as breathing. Gortash, though: there’s something so very strong there, something ripened with time and obsessive, almost. Something that wants him no matter what you tell yourself.

You want to win this. You want to look at the faces around camp and tell them that their faith in you is not misplaced; that you are capable of what they want you to be. You’re more than the monster in your thoughts. When you’d resisted killing Isobel and Astarion despite your butler’s commands, you’d thought there was a chance for that to happen - for you to become something outside of your murderous tendencies. 

Now, you’re not so sure. 

Your role in the creation of the Absolute has changed things. This feels… unforgivable. Not that Alfira’s death wasn’t already unforgivable, not that you haven’t already sinned enough, but… it’s tallying up to a truly heinous amount of perversion that you can’t fathom anyone here tolerating, much less accepting. Astarion, maybe, but he deserves better than this.

You’ve already tremendously ruined things, and on top of that, you find out you were responsible for turning all of the people you care about into thralls? 

It’s enough to shake you to your core. Enough to sow doubt in your mind, spreading like a slow poison through the veins of your thoughts, slowly choking them away, slowly consuming you.

You really might lose.

Gods, are you strong enough to win the long-fought battle against yourself? Do you have it in you to completely turn away from your past? You won’t give in without a fight, of course, but what chance do you have against Bhaal when he’s in your very mind, rooting himself into every inch of you? 

In the days, you have hope, but in the nights, when you’re alone, you feel certain you’re doomed. That perhaps, this side of you will take over, and you’ll be absolutely helpless to stop it.

The true question is this: when the darkness takes over, will you still exist; forever trapped in the body you once had control over? Or will Bhaal’s presence ravage you, body and soul, and leave nothing of the thing you once were?

You really can’t decide which is worse.

You’re used to your hands shaking, by now. Your fingers have often trembled around the hilt of your blade, itching to drive your knife deep into sweet, bleeding flesh.

This is different. 

It’s fear that takes your body, not the Urge. Fear that compels you, not Bhaal. Are you afraid to lose to Orin, or afraid of what you might become?

Astarion stands behind you, observant but tense. The two of you have come so far now that it almost seems foolish to think of losing. He’d defeated Cazador. He’d resisted the Ascension. If he’d found it in himself to turn away from his darkness, can’t you?

Yet, some part of you still thinks you might disappoint him. Some part of you still fears the monster that lies within yourself.

Astarion rests a hand on your shoulder, knowing you all too well. “You can do this,” he says, lightly squeezing. “I know you can.”

And the sheer, beautiful belief in his eyes - belief in you - is enough to have a little hope again. Not much, but some. You can do this. 

You step into the center of the circle, hands around your blade, and you believe.

It all goes by in a blur. 

Orin is a viper, tightening her strokes around you, striking fast and hard. Her movements are rapid and graceful, her dance lithe and experienced. Even in her slayer form, there’s a deadly beauty to her actions. Every slash, every wound she inflicts on your skin, is a vicious reminder that she’s nothing but practiced in this regard.

Perhaps she’s forgotten, but you are, too. And, this time, your pride doesn’t blind you to the threat she poses.

Your body moves instinctively; for once, you let the Urge guide you freely. You leap out of the way of her claws, dig your blade into her side. When the scent of blood hits the air, you rejoice. When you feel pain, you bask in it. 

Flashes of your past echo in front of your eyes - being in the pod, blood gushing into your eyes. You remember the agony of her betrayal, the fear as you’d smashed your skull into the glass again and again and again. Anything to escape what she’d done.

It’s despair that takes over you, not fear. It’s your fury that deals the final blow, not the Urge. And when Orin finally falls, your blade in her ribs up to the hilt, you feel no relief, no satiation. 

Only grief. Nothing but grief.

You don’t know what you mourn for - your old self? The life she’d robbed you of? No - no, you despise your past. You despise who you were. So what tugs at your chest this tenderly? What force brings you to your knees?

For just a moment, you almost forget about Bhaal.

Of course, he won’t be forgotten - not here, not in his own domain. Not when you’re his creation. Sceleritas Fel is in front of you, applauding your victory, calling you the Chosen One. 

“He is near,” he says. “He comes for you.”

Fear flutters through your chest. Bhaal’s Chosen. It tempts you, even now. The Urge has slithered into the very heart of you, kept somewhere in your ribs, so dark and alluring that you can barely breathe. 

It salivates at the sight of the blade slicing through your butler’s chest, sways at the sight of his blood. His body rises, limp and lifeless, and it’s all you can do to stare, still breathless from the fight, still silently devastated, as more blades cut through the skin one by one - impaling him until his blood seeps onto the stone below; dark, crimson liquid shining over the cold floor.

And in his reflection, you find Bhaal.

He is everything you’ve felt in the Urge and more - the sweet whispers of death in your ear. He’s the honeyed tone that compels you to serve him, compels you to bring forth destruction in his name. In chaos, he triumphs, and in blood, he revels.

This is a gift. An offering to you, his Chosen.

You could accept. You could stop fighting against your destiny, against this thing you were born to become. You could do what he asks, and wreak beautiful havoc on this world. You’re exhausted. Every muscle in your body aches - not from Orin, but from this never-ending fight against yourself. 

How strong you could become, remedied of these burdens. How well you would please your father. It would be so easy. All you’d have to do is accept…

And then you see Astarion. 

His face is paler than usual, a tension in his shoulders, a quiet exhaustion in his eyes. You see him now, as he is, and you see him as he was in the ritual chamber: the temptation of power right beneath his grasp, begging to be taken. He’d sacrificed so much. The light of the sun on his face. The relief of hunger. The burial of his shame. All of these, he’d refused, but he’s finally free. He wants that for you, and you want it, too.

No matter the cost.

So you refuse. You look Bhaal in the eye and refuse his gift, knowing what it will mean for you. And when he threatens your life, you refuse again. No matter the cost, you think. Death is freedom in its own way.

The sudden agony that wracks through your body is unlike any you’ve ever known. It boils through your blood, singes body and soul, brings down you to your knees with the very force of it. Your chest seems to cave in on itself, expelling your inheritance to Bhaal with every beat of your heart. 

Even when he lifts a hand and raises you into the air, you feel crushed - suffocated. Your teeth grind against each other, your skull throbs in agonzing waves, blood flows steadily over your tongue. Your heart slows, your essence fades. Sharp, blinding pain overtakes your vision until all that’s left of you is the shallow, scraping breath in your lungs.

All at once, everything fades, and you’re left in darkness.

And in the darkness, there is finally peace.

Being revived feels like a cruelty. Death is sweet and calm and simple. Emptiness. Oblivion. It is silent, and you are grateful.

Until you’re not. 

You’re not, because you’re no longer dead. Something rips you from your painless sense of stillness - throws you back into the misery of life. You fight against it, but it’s pointless; you have no say in this, and it will take you where it desires. 

You find yourself in flesh again, find the familiar sensation of your tender skin. You find yourself before Withers, bruised and broken, but reborn.

He’s a sight for sore eyes, but there’s something else that lies in your chest. A silence that hasn’t been there since… since before you’d woken up on the nautiloid, confused and alone, not a memory to be found aside from meaningless scraps and a face you didn’t recognize. 

The Urge is gone. All that’s left is you.

It feels empty.

This should feel heroic, this return of yours that leaves you panting with the throes of death, covered in blood and on your knees. You’re back, you’re alive, and gods, you’re glad to see your friends and your lover, but it’s empty. 

You deserved to die, didn’t you? It was your horrible knowledge, the one you kept tucked away even from Astarion. That never-ending guilt. After your crimes, after all the horrid things you’ve done with these hands, this body, before you’d lost your memory - you’d most certainly deserved to be put down. 

You don’t dare look at Astarion, but you look at Withers. Surely, he must know what you are. Surely, he must know what you’ve done.

“I deserve to die,” you tell him, your voice shaking as much as your body. “For all the evil I have done.”

Withers stares at you, his expression unchanged. “The sole way to atone for thine actions is to do better, in a new dawn,” he says - and gods, he smiles. He’s proud of you, you realize. Proud of your resistance. “That dawn has come,” he announces.

And if he will not be swayed, you suppose you won’t, either. You’re alive, whether you like it or not. Whatever pieces are left of you and the life you might live, you’ll put them together. You’ve done it before, and you’ll do it again.

The important thing is that you’re finally free.

“Bhaal tried to extinguish thee,” Wither observes, “but his wrath is imprecise. He only succeeded in killing the part of thee he knew. The Urge that drove thee to terrible acts. The spark of brutality that made thee his. But there is a new part of you that hath grown during thy travels. That part, Bhaal could not extinguish. And so, instead of destroying thee, he hath made thee anew.”

“You get to start over,” Astarion says. He gazes at you, a mixture of leftover fear and relief and care. “To be the person you want to be. Not what someone else made you to be.”

And gods - even in the worst of yourself, you know that he sees you - wants you, all the same. If you’re at his side, you’re sure you can do anything.

“Greet the bloodless dawn, child of none,” Withers says, and for once in the shabby remembrance of your life, the guilt that haunts you finally sweeps away.

Gortash knows you’re coming, you think. After your stint at the Iron Throne and the foundry that now lies in ash, he must. Your memories are mostly lost to the aether, but you do know this - he’s no fool.

Still, when you see him again, there’s that strange, leftover twinge of your past. It’s dead now; whatever warmth there was in his presence has become ice. Your old self has died along with your Urge, rotted away like your need for blood. After all, the part of you he cared for was maniacal. Brutal. Not as bad as Orin, perhaps, but deranged. It sickens you to know he cared for someone like that, when you’ve despised yourself so.

It sickens you even more to know that he knows no guilt for his actions. How much have you suffered over your own deeds? How often have you awoken in sweat, drenched from head to toe with the fleeting remnant of your past deeds tainting your mind?

And here he is, smug and so sure - of himself, of this path, of Bane. And he knows no regret, or guilt, he makes no apologies. A part of you may have once loved him, but no more. Whatever he’d once seen in you, it no longer remains.

You wonder if he can tell. After all you’ve done to him, after the havoc you’ve wreaked on his plan, does he realize that the person he cared for no longer exists? He seems not to. Not until Karlach launches at him and you draw your blade, willing to kill when it’s necessary but not craving an ounce of blood more.

The fight is long and brutal, but it’s familiar. You have your friends at your side, people you trust even more than yourself. It flies by in a blur, only ending when Karlach’s axe sinks into Gortash’s gut and he crumples to his knees, letting out a final rush of air before he goes still.

Like so many other events, this should feel triumphant, but it doesn’t. Like so many other things, this isn’t fair. Gortash is gone, yes, nothing more than a body on a floor, but there’s no celebration, no relief. 

Karlach has gotten her revenge, but she will never get her life back. She will never regain what he took from her. 

You have the Netherstones, yes. But gods - that doesn’t stop the sickening feeling deep inside.

You head home with nothing but grief and an aching body, your hand held tight in Astarion’s, and you finally allow yourself to fully mourn the life you’d lived - the things you’d done, and the people who no longer live because of you.

With Gortash finally gone, the air of the camp changes. You’re so close to your goal, but there’s an underlying tension that fills the air. It has you making your way to Astarion, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into his neck. 

He holds you close, his thumb trailing over the nape of your neck, and the action slackens the tension out of your muscles.

“So,” he starts, “how are you feeling, now that your old lover is gone?”

You huff, shaking your head. The action brushes your nose with his skin, and you can smell him all over you. The warmth of brandy, the sharpness of rosemary. “I don’t remember any of it,” you say, words soft. “I… don’t really feel anything.”

You recall his numbness after Cazador. Dame Aylin’s emptiness after smiting down Larroakan. Karlach’s grief after killing Gortash. Even after your fight with Orin, there hadn’t really been relief. Just… a sense of loss. 

He gently takes your face in his hands.

You’re scared, really. You’re so close to succeeding, so close to getting the tadpole out of your mind, and yet, you’re terrified out of your wits. What the hells are you supposed to do, now that failing holds the most weight?

“Do you really think we’ll win this?” you ask him. Your fear slips into your voice and breaks it, and you wince.

“Of course I do,” he says. “I don’t know about you, darling, but I have no intention of dying again.” He presses his lips to your forehead, the gentle touch soothing away your fear. “We’ll get through this. Trust me.”

And, despite the fear, the pain, the loss - despite every curve that life continually throws at you, every defeat you muster through, you know he’s right.

You’ll get through this; just like you always do.

[yorsgirl]

Love is a Curse

Trope: Angst

Warnings: none

Word Count: 818

He is perfect.

Fingers threads through your hair, abruptly stopping when you question: would you be sad if I die?

His eyebrows knit together, he stares at you with confusion - you aren't dying.

You want to smile, if I do?

I won't let you.

He is a man of few words, it's often not he expresses himself but when he does, your chest rumbles with an emotion you certainly know about.

I am never letting you go. You're stuck with me forever.

You know he's right. You truly are stuck with him forever.

.

He is like dopamine.

Touches aren't what you expected them to be. You know the touch even with his presence or absence.

They belong to you after all.

It's his name you chant, his name you say. Whether they be alone or in middle of a crowd. Your mind screams his name, always. The fantasies you stage revolves around him, always.

Everything he does leaves you wanting more.

You tell him this one very night, lying in your bed. He listens, he knows. He is there every night, every time, every second. He knows.

But he doesn't answer.

You close your eyes, then you hear him say.

So do I, for you.

.

Distraction doesn't work.

You try to. You really do.

You try using apps, moving to your people, your friends, your teachers, your family. They don't help at all. And you are down the rabid hole again.

Then you are running to him.

He scolds you, still taking you back with open arms. Chiding you for even trying to believe what they said.

Arms wrapped tight against your body, you cry silent tears hearing words so endearing. You don't deserve this.

He knows what you are thinking. You deserve everything, my love. The stars, the moon, the sun, the world... I will give you what you want. I am yours.

Why does he do this? Doesn't he know it has you falling for more?

He is cruel.

.

It's on days you want to comfort him.

You see him again. You read him again. As always.

There is a smile on your face and your chest is rumbling with that emotion again. You almost can't stop your squeal.

But then you see him in despair, in pain.

And it hurts you seeing him hurt. Emotional or physical, it doesn't matter. It hurts seeing him hurt.

You want to reach out and comfort him. But you can't.

.

Everyone tells you, you shouldn't be this devoted.

You can only answer that you can't.

Your devotion can never measure up to his. His affection, his tenderness, his devotion... his love. They are immeasurable for you.

But he is consumed with darkness. They say.

They fail to understand that you love his darkness as much as his light. For in your darkness, only he sits with you. Only he knows about it.

The parts they see as ugly and unlovable, are the very parts he said he loves the most about you when you said it to him.

Plugging the earphones on, you hear his voice again on the other end.

Did you forget me, pretty? You aren't calling lately, or did you find someone else? Nah, can't be. You have to get rid of me before that.

And getting rid of me isn't that easy.

You hate how he knows so much about you.

.

The men around you are... nice.

And it's just that. They are nice.

Some of them better than the other, some worse. And you know, you can live with one of them, one day.

But it feels wrong.

Thinking about other guys feels wrong.

Its foolish of you to even think you can ever replace him with one of them. Even when the touch of another on your skin repulses you.

And at the end of the day, its just that - they are nice.

Then you question:

Can they ever understand you like him? Can they ever know you like him? Can they ever accept all the darkness about you like him? Can you ever love you like him? Can they ever be him?

The answer is clear.

Hence, you are running back to him. He accepts you with open arms.

He is your home, regardless of what he does.

He tells you that, It is fine. I will never let you go, pretty. You are mine.

And that's what you want to be. His.

.

You open your eyes.

You see the ceiling, you are in your room.

Love is a curse. It has you falling for him in every way possible. And it's him, that you want. You wonder if you'll get over him.

You want to laugh. Who are you kidding? It's been years.

You smile, a single tear rolls down your eyes. The realization hits you again, like every other day.

You love him. You want him. But you can't.

You exist. He doesn't.

Characters: Levi Ackerman, Sukuna Ryomen, Gojo Satoru, Kageyama Tobio, Shoto Todoroki, Bakugo Katsuki, Son Hak, Loid Forger.

A/N: uhm, this is very close to me and the characters mentioned are just my faves with whom fantasize the most, you can imagine your other fav in place of them too

+

Thank you for reading.

[mothinabottle]

(Warning for hints at spoilers from some events below 😮)

Sydney, who practically glues themselves to the pews at the temple after you are gone. The scarf you left behind clutched tightly by their hands as they pray day and night.

They can only hope you are safe wherever you are, that the mission Jordan entrusted you with will go smoothly and you'll be back soon enough, reassuring them with your sole presence

But a month passes and you are still not by their side. The spear returns, yet you are missing. The temple's chants, the excitement for the holy item's appearance can barely reach them through the overwhelming sorrow that consumes their very soul. What is there to celebrate if you are not here? If their dreams are the only way for them to see you, how can they even face reality?

You are a liar, and them a fool for not doing more to protect you. If they had been stronger, maybe more courageous. If only they had gone there instead of you...

So they choose to believe, to ignore it all. If one more month passes, it doesn't matter: they know you'll be back...right?

Somehow, it feels as if a part of their life they managed to forget is repeating...

________________________

Whitney, who managed to send you off to the underground brothel, a stash of cash safe in their pocket as they go back home. Smirk plastered in their face, gloating about finally teaching you a lesson after you humilliated them in front of the whole school all this time.

Still, something doesn't feel right.

Finding themselves waiting for an annoying face when they are loitering under the rain, scribbling notes for someone who isn't in class, passing by the same alleyway thrice in silent hopes to see the one who only appears in missing posters.

Their mood sours, dreams haunted by snippets of memories where you are by their side. This wasn't how things were supposed to go after getting rid of you for good.

Perhaps a strong drink might help kill that weird gross feeling that has been pooling in their heart for these past few weeks. A trip to the local bar with their friends, the promise of some casual sex with a random whose face they won't remember.

But when the moment of truth comes, it's your face that replaces the one of their new conquest. Tugging at the strings of their heart with that insufferable smile you always seemed to have.

What's more pathetic than finding out your are in love while throwing up in a filthy alleyway? Alone, their mind racing to understand that that weird feeling has always been regret and sorrow...

Because they loved you, in their own twisted way, and there's no going back to how things used to be before.

Wasn't actually planning to write these as they are part of comics I wanted to do. However, I highly doubt I'll be able to, since time is limited and I am already dying over here, buried in studies and stuff.

_______________

Note: I want to draw but I am extremely sick, so you guys will only get my brainrot for now :(. Sorry

If it's written like ass, sorry. I did this in the bus I take back home while I had a horrible fever ;; (Though I promise I'll get better at this with time...Maybe)

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

You don't need to worry about the ATSV fandom dying. As someone whose been in the Marvel fandom over ten years - I can assure you this is natural.

The ATSV Fandom Isn't Dead: A brief look into the science of fandoms.

[me standing beside Hobie beaming my thoughts of love and adoration into his head like I'm professor x]

A lot of people are afraid of the ATSV dying - and I don't blame them.

In the era of shows releasing all in one day, or movies coming to streaming almost immediately - it's not hard to say we're in an era were content is consumed at ridiculously rapid rates.

I mean, this time last year Wednesday was breaking records on Netflix. Where's the hype now?

I know you see it too, there's less posts everyday in the Hobie tag, less screenshot breakdowns, etc etc etc.

But I'm here to tell you - The ATSV fandom is doing just fine. Better than fine. All of this is meant to happen.

Let me put it into perspective.

ATSV released on June 2nd - it's November.

ATSV released a little over six months ago.

For reference: The Avengers (2012) was released on May 4th.

The Avengers DVD wasn't available for purchase until SEPTEMBER 25th - almost SIX months later.

The time that the Hobie fandom has formed and existed - is the same amount of time people had to wait just to see The Avengers again.

Large periods of time where tags only get three posts a day TOPS was nothing to fear. xReaders and fanfics held the fandom over until the next trailer, the next sneak peek or leak.

Prior to the release of streaming, only a little more than ten years ago - it was NATURAL for a fandom to wait six months before even seeing the movie for a second time.

And mind you - streaming didn't exist. If you wanted to see The Avengers again, you had to go out and BUY it. $26.99.

If you wanted to order it online - you'd have to get it shipped to you. Before Disney plus, we watched on BlueRay Discs.

And the fandom was fine and healthy.

If a fandom that doesn't even have a DVD release can keep up content for six months, I think we'll be fine.

But I'll admit - there's still the question:

If the ATSV fandom is 'doing fine' then where is everyone going? Why are the tags getting slower?

The answer is simple:

FANDOM BIOLOGY

I LOVE social sciences and the systems people create and how they work - even unintentionally.

And I have a theory - one about the natural evolution and regeneration of fandom. Hear me out -

When it comes to ATSV:

We are leaving the Analysation Phase, the phase in which content creation is centered around deciphering and breaking down the most recent installment in the fandom.

During this phase usually see art of newer characters, new ships, meta breakdowns, easter egg point-outs.

We were in that phase.

Once the Analysation Phase dies down, usually main content creators may remain. The intermediate or liminal period.

The intermediate is usually when you'll see more x-reader art pop-up, the levels of fanart evening out as artists return to their favorite characters - usually incorporating any new ones they gained from the last installment.

Shitposts usually also become popular around this time, as the shock and weight of the story wear off, and we're more able to joke about the storyline a lot more light-heartedly.

That's why the intermediate point is often see as the passion 'dying out'.

When in fact, it is the fandom getting comfortable. Resting for the next phase.

And after a few months, the next phase comes:

The Speculation Phase:

The Speculation Phase cannot come until the Analysation Phase is over.

During the Analysation Phase the fandom begins to breakdown and digest the writers intentions. They integrate the new character into the story, and the fandom.

As the audience and fandom talk amongst each other, we get more solid ideas of who the characters are, what their motivations might be, and most important of all-

What they might do.

In the Speculation Phase we turn from the last installment - and start looking towards the future.

Let's take Hobie for example.

Looking at the timeline of the Hobie fandom, we can see a progression.

Originally taken as a punk-rockstar and little more, throughout the months the fandom began posting things about punk culture, the 70's, Hobie's motivation in the comics, and how that all correlates to him.

As the fandom analyzed, the collective zeitgeist and understanding of Hobie grew into something a lot more sound, and telling.

We looked at the parellels he provides in the story, and what kind of person he is.

And because if that we have seen a marked improvement in people's contextual understanding of Hobie - as a punk and a hero.

And now that we can understand him - we can predict him.

The same goes for Miguel - over the months, a lot of us have began to question if we know him as well as we think we do , if we really know the kinda person he is -

And if we really know what he's doing to do.

That's where the Speculation Phase comes in.

The Speculation Phase in fandom is when we see some of the most passion - and instead of tapering off overtime, it builds. More and more until the next release.

The Speculation Phase is when the fandom takes the analysis' and from there, they begin to theorize.

Now that we understand, we can begin to predict.

And this is arguably one of the most interesting parts in a fandoms natural ecosystem.

During the Speculation Phase, we can see a number of diverse opinions appear.

As more and more creators begin to gather their understanding, tips from the writers, new released news, and past comic book arcs, we start to see dozens of triguing paths the writers can take us on.

As more news releases, the more hype people get. I mean - imagine how you'll feel when they release the first new poster of Hobie, or Miles? Or when we get to see Miles.G in the trailer?

And with each new poster, or trailer, we're given clues. The theorizes develop more. And the plot thickens.

It's all natural.

So I can understand the fear. Only getting one or two new posts when you visit the Hobie tag can be a bummer. But it's natural and it's GOOD.

Y'all, we need to conserve our energy. We are in the liminal phase. And they never last long.

With the news of the voice actors back in the studio, and a cliff-hanger like we have - I can assure you, it's only a matter of time before we begin to see the theories, the trailer breakdowns, the people guessing what Miguel might do, or exactly how much tech Hobie is hiding.

And when that time comes we need to be READY. I can already feel it on the horizon.

I really wonder what they'll do with all that left over Hobie concept art.

Plus with explosion of Hobie approval, I wonder if they'll add him in even more. Hobie fan-service anyone?

Hmmm...

But chill y'all, we're on the right track -

-------------------------------------

If you read this far, as always THANK YOU SO MUCH!! And as a token of my appreciation, I hand you this Hobie. Hold him gently please

Bye 💗

[vase-of-lilies]

❀ Pairing: Demon!Wanda Maximoff x Angel!Reader (F) (Mostly nicknamed Angel)(And some Wanda x Bucky)

❀ Non-con, dubcon, semi-major character death, captivity, heaven and hell (religious god?), mentions of kidnapping and past rape, spreader bar, use of a strap, dismembering of a person, blood, gore, and a fluffy bath:) (If there is any more, PLEASE let me know!!)

❀ Word Count: 10.4k Words (My longest fic yet!!)

❀ Disclaimer:  The pictures only represent aesthetics and themes. There is no certain skin color, body type, ethnicity, or description other than Y/n and “you”. Credit to those who made the pictures in the banner as well. In the story, it says “your natural skin color.” This is meant for everyone and anyone who reads this story.

❀ Authors Note: This is my entry for @lunarbuck’s Soulmate AU writing challenge! Congratulations on your follower milestone! My prompt was “You can feel what your soulmate is feeling (and vice versa).” I hope you enjoy it! Y'all, I finished AND posted this with 3% battery on my laptop. Please give it your love 😭

It was a homicide. A planned murder against a poor young woman, who had her whole life ahead of her. A life that you were supposed to watch over her as her guardian angel. Your savior had assigned you to this woman just moments ago, settling your sacred halo hovering just above your head. You had been waiting your whole life for this moment but once you met the crime scene it felt like your heart had been ripped from your chest. 

Your body drops to the floor, your halo slowly dying of its light. The pure white dress adorned your body faded to a light gray, and your soft feathered wings drooped like a dog's ears. You stare at the body of your departed human as the investigators take her away, weeping as they do so. A chill washes over your body, and the world around you seems to dim in its color. 

Sparkling silver tears roll down your cheeks, characteristic angels were blessed with. With one drop they could heal any broken or ill body, and give power to its consumer. Everything except the dead, and you were much too late to the scene to even help your protected person. 

The world underneath you, hell, there was something brewing in the mind of the queen; Wanda. In different realms, she felt the pain that you did when you saw her lying lifeless on the ground, blood soaking through the white sheet covering her. That wasn’t all. She could feel everything. She could feel the sensation of your tears falling down your cheeks, the racing of your heart, the pounding of your head. She even felt the tug of your halo disconnecting from your aura. 

So, Wanda decides to pay you a visit, and possibly help you find a better way to use your purity. A portal opens from the ground a small distance from you and Wanda extends her wings, floating just behind you. The purest energy surrounds you, pushing away any bad spirits. But this field is falling fast. 

Wanda approaches your whimpering body, “Hey, Angel.” She says, kneeling down next to you. You jump at her presence, quickly wiping away your tears with the backs of your hands.

“Hm? Oh..” You don’t answer her, as all you can do is stare at your halo sitting in your lap. 

She sighs and gently takes your hands, the faded ring of light falling to the ground. “Come with me,” She says to you, pulling you up from your kneeling position. You don’t question who is helping you, only leaning into their arms with a whimper. 

“Sh-she left me,” You whisper. 

“I know, its ok. I’ll take care of you now,” She says as she pulls you with her, your mind in a haze as you walk with her. You try your hardest to hold back your tears knowing anyone who sees them will take them and leave you for the undead to tear you apart limb from limb. 

Both you and Wanda descend through the portal to the underworld, her arm firmly around your body as you follow. She leads you through the halls of her fortress to her blood-red throne. Sitting down, she pulls you into her lap, letting your head fall against her chest. Her arms wrap around your shaking body, your whimpers breaking her heart as she watches you.

“Sh-she’s gone.. she’s gone…” You sob over and over into Wands's warm, fabric-covered bosom. Her hand smoothes over your [color, length, and texture]-ed hair, soothing you with her soft gestures. 

She presses her lips to your forehead, whispering against your skin, “Just breathe, little Angel. I’ll keep you safe.”

As her words enter your ears, it pushes you back into reality, making you look up. Frantically you look around you, letting out a scream and shoving yourself off of Wanda's lap. “Y-you're th- you're the-” You can’t get yourself to say her title, as you are struck dumbfounded of how you got here. 

You scoot back across the burning marble floor, your hands starting to blister from the direct contact with the grounds of hell. Quickly, you scramble to a standing position, your shoes shielding the pain from the ground. Wanda hisses in pain, just like you; her hands burning and blistering the same as yours. 

She ignores the pain and chuckles, smirking down at your cowering form. “I’m the Queen,” she finishes your sentence, gesturing to her throne and around her. 

“Please don’t hurt m! Please, ju-just let me be!” You sob, unable to crumple your body to hide yourself, the floor's existence threatening to harm you. 

She rolls her eyes and frowns. “Im not going to hurt you, just come here.” She opens her arms, beckoning you to come to her. Your face changes from fear to suspicion, your mind screaming at you; ‘You are, I just know it. Thats what demons do. they kill.’

“I am not a demon, I am an Archangel. There is a big difference.” She says, leaning back on her throne with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“H-how did you know I said that?” Your voice quivers as you look up at her.

She scoffs, “I can read your mind down here, little Angel,” She stands up, pulling a large sword from a sheath next to her throne, “Now, follow me.”

You step back at the sight of the sword, your breath hitching in your throat. Cautiously, you follow, the blade dragging against the marble floor. “Where are we going?” Your pure curiosity shines through your fearful state. 

She did not turn around to answer you, continuing forward as she responded. “To the cells of the ‘innocents’ you think I am holding hostage down here.” Her fingers make air quotes around innocents and you roll your eyes at the comment. 

“You do.” You accuse her, following what your teachers and leaders have always told you.

Her eyes narrow at you, “Okay, here,” she steps in front of a cell, a man sitting on the ground with chains on his wrists. “Ned Lowland. Loving husband, father of three children. Married to his high school sweetheart and died of a heart attack.” She laughs as she hears your desperate attempt to defend him. 

“He’s innocent, he was a father, he-he didn’t do anything.” You say, searching around to find a key of some sort. 

“He was chatting with two (2) twelve (12) year olds online. He met up with one, killed her, and then defiled her corpse. She is still buried in his backyard today.” 

Your expression says everything; disbelief, confusion, anger. Emotions of all sorts fill your system ending in disgust hearing the body is still buried. “That is just o-one of them. But there are plenty of innocent people down here,” Turning your head, you look down the long hallway of cells. “There has to be…” whispering to yourself. 

Wanda shakes her head, taking your hand in hers and pulling you to the next cell. “Ah, you’ll like this one…” She says, stopping in front of a cell with another man. “Tony Stark. Philanthropist, CEO, billionaire. A hero to some, a lover to his wife Pepper Potts. Stalked a woman named,” She pauses to look at your reaction. “Lenora Jones. He kidnapped her, raped her, and then killed her, before throwing her in the middle of a busy highway for someone to find.” You gasp. 

“N-no…” 

“You know that name very well, I assume?” She smirks and continues, “Lenora believed in guardian angels, and thought that she had one herself. She took on her abuser first hand knowing her angel would protect her. But, look how that ended…” 

Her eyes rake over your body, feeling the rage rush through your veins as you stare at the man behind the bars. He looks back at you with an evil smirk, his intentions clear. “What a pretty little angel, wings as white as snow… I would love to see you all battered and bloody.” He says, undressing you in his mind. 

You step closer to the cell door, asking the man a genuine question, “Why? Why did you do it?” You watch him stand up, his body towering over yours. 

“I think you can figure that out yourself, angel.” He said, knowing you are smart enough to solve that mystery. He was corrupt. He didn’t need a reason. He had status, power, and money, but it was the control had been missing. 

Tony had found Lenora by looking through his employee list. He wanted someone no one would miss or look for. Lenora, she was almost the perfect victim as she was living on her own and had moved from Colorado. She was a far way from home and away from her parents. Well, her parents were taken care of much before Tony actually made his moves on Lenora. 

What? He needed her secluded and unable to call for help.  

He got what he wanted, and Lenora's life was taken in the process. 

“How do you feel now that you took three lives? How does it feel to burn down here, while her and her family lives up in heaven?” You ask, looking up at him with silver tears threatening to spill. 

“I have never felt more powerful. The queen lets me live how I want down here. I get what ever I want…” He looks to Wanda, “Watch… Can I get another fuck toy? M’feeling a little hard.” He says in a low voice, palming his cock behind his blood-red “uniform.”

Wanda shrugs, “Why don’t you try to reach her yourself?” She smirks, nodding her head to you hinting to Tony that you are up for grabs. You look at her in horror, frozen in fear as you hear her offer. 

She only laughs at your reaction, moving her sword over her shoulder, waiting for Tony to reach for you. As he does, she slices his arm off in one swing. “I’m keeping this… maybe you’ll learn that with one hand, you don’t actually need three holes.” Internally, you thank her for saving your dignity. 

You scream as the events unfold in front of you. Tony writhes in pain on the ground, and you feel a pang of guilt. Looking at the blood spurting from his wound, you try your best to heal it without Wanda noticing. Even for what he did, he didn’t deserve to be in pain. That is the angel side of you acting, but Wanda had plans to corrupt you.

Wanda realizes what you are doing, acting fast by wrapping her hand around your throat, and pulling you off the ground. “This is my domain, not yours.”

You whimper as your hands scratch at her sharp and perfectly manicured nails digging into your skin. Finally, your worst fear came to light; silver, sparkling tears made their way from your eye down your cheek. Something that demons believed was a simple myth. 

Wanda's expression softens and changes into realization. “Oh my… I knew they were real.” She catches a tear in the dip of her fingernail and drops you to the ground. A vial appears in her hand, and she drops your tear in. You both hiss in pain at the blistering of your hands. “Fuck! What is happening?” She says, looking at her hands and seeing the matching wounds on yours. 

You quickly get up, whimpering as your hands sting from hitting the ground. Ignoring her question, you look up at her and reach for her, coughing out a response. “ N-n-no please you don't have the right-” Another cough cuts you off. 

Wanda walks over to you, growling at you, “You came down here on your own!” She pauses, her finger pushing your chin up to look at her, “I own you…” More tears fall down your cheek but you quickly wipe them away. 

“N-no you don’t,” Your voice cracks as you look up at her. 

“You’re pathetic.” She laughs and turns away from you, walking briskly to another room down the hall. You follow her, not wanting to be with the sad souls around you any longer. But what you see terrifies you. It was a fellow angel. An angel you in fact knew very well. 

“B-Bucky?” You whimper, looking up at him in his state. His hands are in cold metal cuffs suspending him from the ceiling, sharp hooks keeping his wings spread, and bloody scrapes all over his body. “Oh, Bucky…” Walking up to him, you ghost your hands over his wounds on his torso. “Bucky? Are y-you ok?” You ask in a quiet voice, seeing his eyes open. 

“Y-y/n?” A raspy voice answers you, and you nod with a smile.

“Yeah, its me, Buck.” You say, trying to get him down but only causing him to whimper in pain as the hooks pull against his wings.

Wanda chuckles at the sweet angel-worry exchange, grabbing a knife that is able to hurt angels, and she pushes you back. Catching yourself, you glare up at her. 

“Trust me, you don’t want to get in the middle of this.” She says, dragging the blade along Bucky's chest. 

You growl as she pushes you, and you retaliate, knocking the blade from her hands. As fast as you can, you scramble to get the blade but you are pulled back by an invisible force. Once you are close enough to the door, she shoves you outside, slams the door, and locks it. 

Pounding and kicking the door, you scream as loud as you can, shouting for mercy. “Please! Don’t hurt him!! Hurt me! H-hurt me! Please I’ll do anything!” You beg, hope, and pray that she will let you take his place.

“God, she’s so annoying.” Wanda says as she rolls her eyes, moving back to Bucky. Continuing where she left off, she drags the blade over Bucky's peck to mess with him. 

Bucky cries as you are thrown from the room and he growls at the queen. “F-fuck you…” He curses her. 

You persist, shouting outside of the door and pleading to switch places with him. You try everything; asking to switch places, letting her do anything she wants to you, killing you, hurting you. Anything. But you were ignored. 

Wanda walks to the small window on the door, shutting the cover on it, blocking your view from inside. She waves her hand and the sight of Bucky chained up fades away in swirls of colored mist, revealing Bucky standing unhurt. “Hey, baby…” She smirks, walking towards him and wrapping her arms around him. 

She knew you would fall for it. You were just a naive little angel who would do anything to protect anyone you cared about. It was laughable how dumb you could be, your feather-stuffed mind making you think irrationally. 

Bucky looks down at Wanda but looks over at the door next. “God, I missed her. How did you find her? She was a favorite of his you know,” He says, hinting at the big guy upstairs. 

“Her human died, and she was distraught. So, well you know how I am.” She smirks and kisses his lips, gently pulling him down by his hair. He smiles against her lips, holding her by her hips. He pulls away with a soft gasp. 

“Let’s fuck her. Take her innocence, and strip her of her high and mightiness.” His eyes move up to the chains on the ceiling and back to Wanda. 

“That sounds so good. I would love to play with her body,” She smirks, and a laugh follows. “Was she always this annoying?” Your pleading can still be heard outside of the locked door, small pounds echoing as well. 

Bucky nodded. “Always a fuckin’ cry baby.” A dark chuckle leaves his throat, and he shakes his head dismissively. 

Outside, you sobbed against the door. Your hand hits the door harder than the last hit, making your fingers very painful. But Wanda could feel that too, and she looked to Bucky. “Why am I feeling her pain? Her emotions? What is happening?” She asks, worry lacing her voice. Bucky knew exactly what this meant, and he couldn’t wait to tell you the news. 

“You’re soulmates…” He says. “Try a cut on your hand, I bet you anything you’ll hear her scream.” He smirks, handing her the blade. Wanda tilts her head, her eyebrow quirking upwards. 

“Soulmates, hm?” She puts the knife to her hand and cuts a solid line, groaning in pain. Her pain is easily soothed by your screams on the other side of the door. “Oh, I see… And she feels everything that happens to me too? Pain and pleasure?” Bucky nods. “So, every time we fucked, she came just as hard as I did…” She puts it together in the end, Bucky nodding once more to conclude her suspicions. 

“She has felt everything, but her virginity is still good and ready to take. Sure she felt your orgasms, but it’s just not the same,” He says, gently wrapping Wanda's hand with a piece of gauze. “Her lord said we were soulmates, I knew that was bullshit though. I needed someone else, and I have yet to find that person. But you… you have satisfied my every need.” His words cause Wanda to smile, her cheeks turning red at his compliments. 

“You were born in the wrong place… as an angel, your need for corruption makes me all hot and bothered.” Wanda says, brushing her finger through his hair, and kissing his lips once again. 

Bucky groans at the sound of your crying. “We need to shut her up, dear lord! And before we fuck her, we need to get some more info out of her. Chain her up like we talked about before. We can get more tears out of her too, love.” He whispers as his lips graze Wandas once again.

“It’d be our dream, just like we talked about. Hell on earth.” She smiles and pulls away. “I’ve got to finish the tour, then we can have our fun with her.” She says, Bucky nodding reluctantly. 

“God, fine. I’ll miss you, baby…” He whispers, passionately kissing her. 

“I’ll miss you too,” She smiles. With another wave of her hand, the illusion is back in place, her magic adding a few more cuts to Bucky's body. She makes sure everything is perfect and opens the door to see you crying, tears on the ground, and soaking into your dress. 

Immediately you jump up from the ground, wincing as you touch the ground with your cut hand. You run to Bucky, whispering in his ear, “I’ll get you out of here, I promise…” Gently running your fingers through his blood-soaked hair you turn to Wanda. “You hurt him, you witch!” 

“Oh boo hoo! You’re SO scary.” She pretends to be scared, posting a false fearful look on her face before turning to leave. “Come on, I have more to show you.” She says, standing in the doorway. You look at her defiantly, your eyes narrowing at her audacity to try to pull you away from the man you love. 

“N-no, I’m not leaving him…” Your voice quivers slightly.

“Fine,” Wanda sighs. “We’ll do this the hard way.” She stands up straight and her hand glows a bright red, her magic not-so-gently pulling you from the room. You scream and scratch at the floor, the ground burns your hands. A whimper leaves Wanda's throat as she too feels the pain you are in. She forces her magic to pull you to a standing position, stopping the burning of both your and her hands. 

The door locks behind you, the illusion of the hurting Bucky going back to normal once again. “No! Please!” You sob as you are pulled by force down the hallway away from Bucky's cell. More silver tears roll down your cheek and you wipe them away with your sleeve, the liquid soaking the fabric. “Why are you doing this?” You ask, breathless as you struggle against the energy holding your body still. 

“Im only showing you where you’ll be staying, good lord,” She rolls her eyes and disengages her magic from around you. You sigh in relief as you are freed, but knowing you are practically powerless against her. She is stronger in this domain than she is on earth, or in heaven. You have absolutely no chance of defeating her. 

Following Wanda, you made your way through the many hallways of her fortress. “Why won’t you just let me go?” You ask as the two of you reach a large wooden door. 

“Because heaven won’t let you back in…” Wanda responds, smirking at your expression of confusion. “Anyway, this is where you’ll be staying.” She opens the door, a red, medieval-looking room on the other side. 

You were suspicious as to how welcoming she was being. This was not natural for a being of her kind. Swallowing, you take in the overwhelming room, definitely not the same as the white and elegant room you resided in, in heaven. You stop in the middle of the room, and you turn to her. “What am I really doing down here? You did all of this on p-purpose, didn’t you?” The sentence rushed out in a string of angry whispers, just trying to make sense of everything. 

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks, stripping herself of her red, floor-length gown and making her way to her dresser. 

Out of purity, you turn away, giving her privacy. “You know what I mean. You killed my human, and took me because I know Bucky.” You keep your eyes down, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

She huffs and shrugs. “Yeah, well maybe…” Closing the drawer, she puts her arms through the sleeves of a red, silky robe and secures it around her body. From her hand, a red tendril pulls a spell book from the bookshelf, and she settles herself on the seat by the window. 

While Wanda is occupied, you beeline to the open door. But she is two (2) steps ahead of you. With a flick of her finger, the door shuts and locks, and your response is to growl and slump against it in sadness. Your dress protects your body from the ground, and you bury your face in your hands. 

Only two (2) minutes into reading, Wanda yawns, your cries bothering her. “God, you’re so fucking annoying!” She says, throwing her book across the room, almost hitting you. Your eyes widen and you duck your head, holding your arms over your head. Wanda looks at you from her spot by the window, thinking it's finally time to play with you. 

“Get up. It looks like you’ll be getting what you want after all.” A smirk appears on her lips as she stands up and makes her way towards you. Her fingers tangle in your [color, length, texture] hair and she pulls hard, forcing you to stand up. You grip her hand, trying to ease the pain from her strong hold on you. 

However, her grip loosens, the stinging on your scalp manifesting on Wanda's scalp as well. She growled at the fact that she kept on denying it. No demon should be a soulmate with an angel. It made her sick.

She lets go of your hair, pulling you by your wrist down the same hallways, and to the same door where Bucky was being held. Wanda smiled at Bucky standing in the middle of the room, arms folded in front of his chest. His head turned at the sudden opening of the door and he smirked too. 

His eyes see your white dress and follow up to your sobbing face. He smirks and his pupils blow with lust. “Can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, baby…” The door locks and Wanda drops you on the floor. As a defense mechanism, you plant your palms on the marble floor, looking at Wanda as she holds her hands against the cool silk of her robe. 

“Stop that!! Stop!” She growls, whimpering along with you as both yours and her hands blister and burn. Bucky sees what is happening and picks you up by the neck of your dress. “God, that hurts so fucking bad!” Wanda whimpers, her magic only coming out in small sparks at first, then at full force. Just enough to heal the bubbling blisters. 

Bucky’s strong arms hold you up, your limbs flailing around as you try to grab something. Once he knows that Wanda is safe, he throws you onto the bed in the corner of the room. You watch, speechless as you see Bucky, completely unharmed, his wings now painted pitch black. He’s become an archangel too.

Wanda sighs and pulls Bucky in by the leather collar around his neck, kissing his lips passionately, and lovingly. “I want to ruin her, break her.” She whispers against his lips, her arms wrapping around his broad shoulders.

You swear you could see guilt, and regret in Bucky's eyes when he turns his attention to you. He is quick to hide it as he looks down at Wanda with a smile on his face. “I’ll get the blades, you get the toys. I’ll chain her up, and we’ll decide not he rest. Got it?” He is unfamiliar with the control in his voice, and Wanda tuts softly. 

“Ah, ah, remember who is in charge here, baby boy…” She says, kissing his nose. 

“You, mistress. You always.” He whispers back, the submission falling over him again. 

“Good boy, now go.” Her hands cup his ass and she smacks it lightly as a gesture to make him obey. 

As Wanda gathers her things, Bucky approaches your shivering form on the bed. He uses his ungodly strength to easily pick you up, placing you in the middle of the room.

You kick and struggle in his arms, his hands easily grabbing a hold of your wrists and pulling them above your head. “Bu-buck! What are you doing?? Please! Don’t listen to her! She’s only here to hurt you!” You shout the cold metal now around your wrists.  

Bucky growls, slapping you across the face. At the other end of the room, Wanda startles, turning to face Bucky. “Jesus, you hit hard.” She says, feeling the sting across her face as well. Sheepishly, Bucky mouths an apology and moves back to you. 

“Im with someone who cares about me.” He says, collecting the rest of the blades that Wanda directs him to grab, setting them on the tray in front of your dangling body; the tips of your white flats barely scraping the floor. You shake your head, silently begging Bucky to come back to you. 

Wanda reaches for a knife specifically to hurt angels, the blade laced with the blood of a newborn hellhound. Deep down, she was hoping this would only hurt you and not her as well. If she inflicted the pain, it couldn’t possibly hurt her too, right?

She starts to cut the dress from your body, ripping it into pieces to finally see your naked skin. You hear her hum from behind you and feel her eyes raking up and down your backside. Her hand rubs the ample skin of your ass, slapping it softly. Hm, I couldn’t feel that… Wanda thinks to herself. Again, she spanks you, harder each time not feeling a thing. 

Every smack of your ass made you whimper and pull at the chains to try and get as far away as you could from the source. 

“She doesn’t care, Bucky. Your father did, your mother did, our superiors did. I- I did!” Your body shivers in the cold air of the room, which confuses you as this is hell. Hell is supposed to be hot… You try your best to cover up but fail as the chains hold you right where Wanda wants you. 

“They didn’t care. And you!” He passes as he grabs a blade from the table, putting it on your neck. “You used me to get cozy with the big man.” He accuses. Wanda watches from afar, hitching her breath as she feels the sharp tip of the blade against her neck as well. She was proud of how far Bucky had come, and she didn’t mind if she got hurt in the process if it ended with Bucky becoming even stronger than he is now. 

Along with Wanda, you suck in a breath as the blade is pushed against your skin. You give up on hiding your tears, Wanda was quick to collect the falling ones in vials as they fell from your eyes. “N-no I did not. I worked my way to the top just like you did!” 

To some demons, tears were the only thing that they thought was to be of silver and sparkles. But only the purest of angels had blood of gold. Ones who have never lied, cheated or hurt anyone. Ones who did their best and passed any test their lord gave to them. 

You defended yourself to the best of your ability, knowing you did in fact work hard to become a guardian angel. The force of your response boosted you forward just an inch, causing the blade to nick your skin. Immediately, gold liquid drips from the small cut on your neck.

Bucky was filled with so much rage, that Wanda could feel it radiating off of his body. “You’re lying!!” He shouted the intent to kill in his mind.

Before he could do any more damage to you, Wanda's eyes widened. “Bucky, stop!” She ordered, placing a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. “Baby, look at her blood. Its gold!” She laughs and turns to him. “Its gold!”

You sigh, your secret revealed. Weakly, you look at Wanda, trying to cover the wound on your neck with your shoulder. “Please, i-if you’re going to kill me, just do it now, and make it quick.” Your voice cracks as you beg for a painless death. 

“Mmm, no, we’re not going to kill you. You’re far too valuable.” Wanda says, licking your blood off of the blade, moaning at the glorious taste of it on her tongue. “Oh wow… so sweet…” 

Bucky adds to Wanda's intentions, “We wanna keep you. You’re going to be so useful…” He forcefully moves your head to the side, lapping at the wound on your neck. You give everything to try and push him away; Kicking, wiggling your body, anything. But you are promptly stopped by a searing pain in your wrist. 

Wanda has her special blade against your sensitive skin, tracing it down your arm and ending at your exposed collar bones. “You are gonna stay put…” Wanda growls, pushing the knife into your skin and dragging it to one side. A scream of agony leaves your mouth, your throat hurting from the sheer force of your voice. She moans at the sight of the shimmering, gold liquid seeping from your body. Licking the excess blood from the knife with a satisfied smile. 

But Wanda was never satisfied. She needed more. And she went right to the source.

 She presses open kisses to your neck, sucking your gold blood from the cut on your chest. It smears along your skin, feeling sticky against Wanda's mouth. “So fucking delicious.” She mumbles against you, holding her hands on your naked hips and squeezing them roughly pulling a scratchy whimper from your throat. 

“Please,” You beg, tears of silver continuing to fall down your cheeks as you look down and away from your torturers. 

Wanda smirks at your soft whisper, “Please what, little Angel? Hm? What are you beggin’ for?” Your head is forced up, her hand holding your cheeks roughly. “You look at me when I’m talking to you.” You shiver, yet you disobey. Ignoring her was a bad idea. 

You pull away from her grip, closing your eyes as you hide your face in your arms. 

Bucky smirks at Wanda, “It looks like someone is in for a punishment…” He says in a low growl, seeing you pull away from Wanda after a clear command.

The witch's eyes narrow, your disobedience earning you a harsh slap across the face. “Bad little Angel…” You yelp as your head is thrown to the side again, a small tear falling to the ground. “Look at me!” Wanda shouts, and finally, you look up at her. “Ah, good girl… Now Im going to have my fun with you.” She smirks and caresses your cheek softly, wiping away any stray tears. 

Her thumb brushes against your quivering lips, gently pulling your bottom lip out into a pout. It takes every nerve in your body from pulling away. Wanda chuckles as she feels you shaking in your restraints. 

“Don’t be scared, little Angel.” Wanda smiles and her hand travels down your bleeding chest right to your cunt, her hand cupping it softly. Instantly you cross your legs, Bucky being fast to kick your ankles to keep them apart. You see him in the corner of your eye as he moves to the far side of the room, making it very clear what he is doing once you feel your body raise just a little more. 

“Please… don’t do this,” You whisper as you look Wanda in the eyes. She ignores you, pressing soft kisses to your neck as her pointer finger rubs your clit. Again, you pull your legs together. “S-stop, please! I have to st-stay pure!” You whimper, Bucky at your feet and connecting a bar to your ankles, forcing your legs to stay open. 

Wanda pauses, her hand wrapping around your back and touching the base of your wings connected to your back. “Oh you know thats all bull shit, Angel.” She says, softly plucking a feather from your sensitive wing. A pained whimper escapes your mouth, and your gold blood-covered feather falls to the ground in front of you. 

Wanda's fingers continue to circle your untouched clit, forcing a reluctant moan from your mouth. The chains rattling above you as you struggle to move away from her. You can feel her smirk against your neck, and she eggs you on. “I know it feels good. Just let me in.” She whispers in your ear, nipping your lobe softly.

Your head falls against hers, a connection of something much bigger than the both of you, making your skin tingle. “P-please…” You beg, her finger moving faster against your clit. “Wh-what do you want fr-from me?” 

“Nothing, Angel… I just want you,” Wanda whispers, smiling as she presses her lips to yours in a soft and loving kiss. The kiss takes your breath away, letting Wanda take the opportunity to push her tongue into your mouth along with her finger into your wet cunt. Pushing it in painfully slow. 

Your hands grip the chains, and you look up at Bucky who stands behind Wanda. “Buck, this- this isn’t you. Please, y-you can g-get- ohh, you ca-cant get us out o-of here.” The pleas come out in a stutter, small moans interrupting each word. He ignores you, the only thing you get from him is a shrug and a palm of his hand against his cock.

The breaths from your lungs quicken slightly as Wanda's finger continues to pump in and out of your pussy. “Please th-this i-is everything o-o-oh my stars,” You shake your head trying to ignore the pleasure you are being forced to feel. Wanda doesn’t stop at just one finger, she enters another finger, curling both against that one good spot inside of you. “Ah!” Your little yelp only encourages her to keep going, her fingers moving faster by the second. 

“I- I can’t do this,” You whisper, the new feeling inside of you rippling pleasure throughout your entire body. Slowly, the orgasmic feeling arises in you, and Wanda can tell you are close. 

“You can, I know you want to give in…” Wanda whispers, her lips sucking soft love marks onto your soft skin. “I’ll give you everything you want.” 

You shout at her, “N-no, I can’t do this! I can’t!” Somehow she can understand your feelings, holding you against her body as she fucks you with her fingers. She can tell you are so close, not only to cumming, but to breaking too. You were one tap away from shattering. 

Slowly, your head leans forward and your eyes begin to close. “Come on little angel, I just wanna make you feel so good…” Wanda whispers, kissing your forehead as you crumble underneath her touch. It felt like fire touching your skin, and your body relaxes against the chains, allowing Wanda to slide even further into your cunt. 

“A-all I ask i-is to be g-g-, Oh my stars... b-be gen-gentle please,” You whisper, knowing you can’t escape her. 

“I will be, little Angel. Just relax,” She responds, kissing your cheek and letting you lay your head against her chest. “Oh, you are such a good girl, my little angel.” 

Bucky smirks as your walls start to break and tremble, his thoughts coming out into words. “I told you she would be easy to break…” He puts on a fake frown as he looks at your shaking body, Wanda getting you oh, so close to your orgasm. “I was hoping there would be a lot more of those precious little tears. But we have aaaaall that blood, don’t we mistress?” He whispers in Wanda's ear, her lips forming a smirk against your forehead. 

“We do, baby…” She says, her fingers ceasing movement inside of your pussy. You were so close, but Wanda had other plans for you, and you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into. “Grab mistress’s strap, will you love?” She asks Bucky, who gladly obliges. 

Your eyes widen, “Wh-whats a s-strap?” The innocence of your mind fully shined through, and your voice quivered in fear. 

The woman above you only chuckles, saying softly, “Lets just say… it will feel much better than these…” She moves her fingers inside of you again, pulling out and forcing them into your mouth. “Suck them clean,” She says in a dark voice, your eyes avoiding her gaze as humiliation falls over your face. But, you obey, licking her fingers clean of your slick.

Wanda praises Bucky, kissing his cheek and tugging his hair. “Now be a good boy, and get some restraints on the bed, ok?” He nods, handing her the strap and occupying himself on the bed. You pull your eyes away from him and to the strap in Wanda's hands. 

“Wh-where does th-that go?” You ask with even more fear than before, with sparkly tears in your eyes once again. 

“That goes in here…” Wanda's fingers enter your cunt again, even deeper than before. You suck in a deep breath and double over, pulling on the chains above your head. 

“N-no no no absolutely not! Please! It's going to hurt it-its going to hurt!” You sob, that last bit of hope inside your heart dimming as you look to your former friend. “Bucky, do something! Please!” 

The woman in front of you tries to soothe you, gently cupping your cheek and bringing your attention back to her. “No, no. Mistress is going to stretch you out so so good, and it won’t hurt.” She whispers, adding a third finger to the two already inside of you. “M’gonna take your virginity, my little angel…” She smirks. 

Your head shakes vigorously, “Thats my soulmates j-j-job and m'not su-supposed to be taken yet please!” A single silver tear rolls down your cheek and onto your exposed breasts. “Please," You whisper, your voice small and weak. “There h-has to be another way…"

She chuckles, pulling her fingers from you again. “No, there is no mistake. You of all people know that,” Her whispers make your skin crawl, and you look up at her. “Your soulmate is the queen of hell,” A low and dark laugh leaves her mouth, your body going numb. “Watch, angel. And you’ll see exactly why,” She grabs a knife and orders Bucky to stand next to her. “I want you to cut a straight line on my palm. Y/n, if you feel it too, then you’ll know.” She smirks.

“No…” You whisper, still in denial of the initial news. The proof was most definitely there, but you did not want to see or feel it. Moving your head up weakly, you watch as Bucky drags the blade along Wanda's hand, a similar pain aching on your hand as well. You whimper, golden blood oozing from your hand. It drips down your arm, and around to your chest, but you ignore it. “M-my soulmate is the queen... of... hell…”

Quickly, Bucky bandages his mistress’s hand and gathers more vials to collect your blood. He is very close to you now, his body mere centimeters from you. Your eyes meet his cold blue ones, and your friendship finally breaks. “She’ll keep you safe,” Bucky whispered, guiding the last bit of blood into a glass bottle. “She’s kept me safe.” He pulls away, setting the now collected blood onto the table against the wall of the cell. 

The silver tears in your eyes now fall freely down your face, the feeling of betrayal and sadness hitting you like a wall. 

“I will keep you safe, little angel. I promise,” Wanda steps in front of you again, her un-bandaged hand slipping in between your spread-apart legs. To fingers enter you, and her thumb rubs your clit slowly, coaxing your orgasm out of you. 

“H-how can i t-trust yo- Ohhhh,” You let out an involuntary moan, your head falling forward against her shoulder.

“How can you trust me when what, Angel?” Wanda asks and she continues to rub your clit in just the right way. You look to Bucky, but shake your head, ignoring her question and focusing on the feelings.

Your whimpers get loud and Wanda can sense your orgasm is coming close, your walls clenching around her fingers once. 

“Cum for me, little Angel. Let me give you pleasure.” She whispers, kissing your lips passionately as you cum, imaginary fireworks going off around you and her. 

You are barely able to return the kiss, worried about doing anything wrong. While your walls squeeze and clench around her fingers, your legs shake and knees buckle, making you fall limp against the chains. The strain against your wrists makes you whimper, and Wanda instantly takes notice of this. Gently and slowly, she pulls her fingers from your wet pussy and wipes them on her robe. Next, she unlocks the cuffs from around your wrists and holds you in her arms. 

Weak arms wrap their way around Wanda, your body clinging to hers as your juices leak from your cunt and onto your inner thigh. She smiles down at you and gently picks you up, taking you to the bed in the corner of the room. Your head hits the pillow first, and then the rest of your body is cushioned on the semi-soft mattress, your wings splayed out underneath you.

From above you, Bucky’s shit-eating grin glows. He grabs your arms and clasps the cuffs around your wrists again, pulling the chains tight so you are all spread open. Doing the same to your ankles, he smirks at his handy work, every inch of your body exposed to him and Wanda. 

“How's that mistress? Do we need a gag if she screams?” He asks in a quiet voice, making sure you don’t hear anything. 

Wanda shakes her head and unties her robe, her beautiful body practically glowing in the dimmed lighting of the room. She smirks at you chained up and spread out, shaking her head. “Everyone screams in hell.” She says, crawling on top of you, kissing your skin softly to remind you that she is still there and cares.

The bed shivers along with you, tears rolling down your cheeks like a leaky faucet. “P-please,” You whimper softly, looking up at Wanda as she cups your face in her soft hands. 

“Hey, its ok, I’ve got you…” Her whispers are soft and genuine, yearning to make you feel comfortable and not scared. Your nerves are slightly calmed, your eyes locking with hers as they look down upon you. 

You whimper, her lips meeting yours softly. “I don't wan-want it to hurt,” Wanda hears your worries, gently rubbing her nose against yours as she leans closer to you. 

“It won’t, my Angel. Just a bit in the beginning then it’ll feel so good.” Wanda smiles, pecking your lips again. You close your eyes as she embraces your delicate body, only pulling away to reach for her strap, a whimper escaping your mouth as you see it. She secures the harness around her hips and uses some saliva to make sure it is ready for you. 

With love, she lays down beside you, softly entering her fingers into you again, stretching your walls to accommodate her large cock. She kisses your neck, smiling as your back arches off the bed. When you turn your head, you are met with the sight of Bucky, playing with his hard cock as he watches the two of you. It scares you and you move your gaze back to Wandas.

“Just focus on me, sweet Angel.” She whispers, kissing your lips as she sits up again, settling between your widely spread legs. Taking some slick from your tight hole, she rubs it over the cock on her hips, wetting it so it does not cause any pain. Seeing the fear in your eyes makes her pause, only poking the tip into your entrance. Her body lays on top of you and you bury your face in the crook of her neck. A gentle hand cradles your head, and she slowly starts to push into you, rubbing your clit with her other hand.

Bucky was angry that she stole your attention away from him. His stare burns holes in the back of your head as you look up at Wanda, he was supposed to be in that position; taking your purity without the comfort of a bed. He wanted to tear you in two, fuck you in every single hole you had, and kill you in the end. But he couldn’t because he’s the queen's pet. He wouldn’t let that happen. 

He tucks his cock back into his pants, reaching for the vials of tears from the table and putting them in his pockets. Your moans and whimpers die down as he leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He was going to take over this place, intending to anyone who got in his way. 

Once Bucky is gone, you and Wanda continue, not aware of his exit. All you can think of are these overwhelming sensations you are experiencing. It feels like you are being split in half, your arms and legs pulling at the chains. Your back arches hoping the movement will ease the pain.  

“Angel… just relax…” She whispers in your ear, kissing up along your jaw right to your lips. You try your hardest, you really do, but the fear is just too much and it makes you tense even more, your toes curling at the sensations. Your lips part, a small moan leaving them just before Wanda captures them in a kiss.

“Let Mistress in,” Her hand moves from your clit to your hip, rubbing your ample skin so softly. Opened-mouth kisses are planted along your neck, small bruises most likely going to show.

“I- I can’t s’too big,” The stretch is almost too much, tears falling down your temples and onto the pillow underneath your head. 

“You can take it, angel, I know you can…” She whispers in your ear, her cock finally bottomed out inside of your cunt. You yell out in pain, muffling your scream by softly biting down on Wanda's shoulder. Her cock stretching you out contorts your face of discomfort to a face of pleasure and euphoria, the feeling of being so full the only thing on your mind. 

“I’ve got you. You’re okay, my sweet Angel.” Wanda begins to move her hips, pushing her cock in and out of your cunt. Squelching can be heard, your juices making moving effortless and painless. Of course, the large size of her cock was still prominently there, and the movements turned from pain to pleasure very quickly. 

But soon, your breaths quicken, your senses heighten, and you become uncomfortably aware of everything that is happening. Your wings aren’t sitting right, your wrist is twisted in the cuffs weirdly, and Wanda's lips feel much too hot against your skin. Wanda looks down at you and halts her hips, taking in your disoriented and distressed look. 

“Hey, just breath. Take a deep breath for me Angel…” She whispers, her hand cupping your cheek and her thumb brushing against your lips. “You gotta trust me, little one.” Her head tilts and you nod softly.

You whimper, letting out a small response. “O-ok…” 

“Good girl, oh Angel, you are such a good girl.” She whispers as she kisses your forehead. The butterflies in your belly flutter to life, a small smile appearing as the praise finally starts to affect you. 

“Was that a smile?” Wanda quirks her brows, her heart feeling big when she sees your lips turn up. You nod and she nuzzles her nose against yours as she starts to move again. “Good girl. All I want is to make you happy.” She leans down to kiss your bare collarbones softly, “See, Angel. I’m not a bad person.” 

You nod, agreeing with her. “Y-you aren’t, a-and I’m sorry- ohhh-” A moan cuts you off, her fingers rubbing your clit again. “I-I’m so sorry I said you w-were.” Looking up at her, you see her face soften at your apology. 

“Oh angel,” You know she forgives you. Even if she doesn’t say the words, you can feel the way she holds you, fucks you, kisses you, and talks to you. 

Wanda smiles down at you, and in the next moment, her lips are on yours once again. She smiles stupidly against your lips as she starts to fall in love for the first time. Her hips begin to move again, her finger moving faster on your clit. It's not only you who can feel how close you are to your release - Wanda can feel it too, she can see it. 

As your cunt hugs her cock, you cum with a shout. Your legs shake in their restraints and Wanda swallows your moans with an even more passionate kiss. Her hands rub your hips and she smiles at you once she pulls away. Returning the smile, you pull at the chains holding your limbs in place. 

Wanda sighs and gently pulls out of you, wiping you down with her discarded robe. “Here, lets get these off of you…” She says, a snap of her fingers making the clasps come loose. You rub your wrists and bend your knees to curl up, moving to your side where you can fold your wings to your back. “There, are you feeling alright?” She asks, sitting up next to you and pulling you into her arms. You nod and kiss her cheek softly. 

Your legs bend and you lay your head against her chest, smiling as her hand strokes your soft wings. “So soft…” She nuzzles her head into the soft, white feathers, and wraps her arms around you. Tenderly, she presses soft kisses to your neck. “Such a good girl, my sweet little angel.” 

~~~~~~~

Bucky's plan had worked. A power he had never felt before was flowing through his veins, and god, he loved how it. He was confident that the power from the angel's tears would make him more powerful than the queen of hell herself, and he was ready to execute them both; the angel and the queen. 

He checked the dungeon first, but both you and Wanda were gone. Next was the bedroom, not there either. Last was the library. Wanda spent a lot of time there, so it was most likely that she would have shown it to you. Alas, there you were. Wanda was holding your white-robe-covered body in her arms while her favorite book to you. That book is the story of Peter Rabbit. 

There was nothing in particular she liked about the book, other than the fact it involved a chase. She absolutely loved a good chase and with possession of her own little bunny, she could do what she wanted. Not for long, of course, as in the next few moments they will be dead. 

Bucky glares as Wanda finishes the book, her hand coming to your cheek and caressing it softly. Her thumb rubbed over your bottom lip, and he had enough when you kissed it. Quietly, he enters the room with a large sword in his hand and a dagger in his other hand. He smirks as he sees you hug Wanda, her arms wrapping around you protectively. 

“What do you want?” She spits, moving you to the other side of the couch and putting herself in the middle of you and the threat. 

Bucky raises his dagger, “Her.” The blade pointed straight at you. You shivered at the silver edge glistened in the light of the library. 

Wanda growls, “Not gonna happen,” She stands up, her hand glowing a bright red with a ball of energy beginning to grow. You watch in horror as a blast of gray energy hits Wanda, forcing her across the room. You jump up in response, running to her and making sure that she is okay. 

“No, no, no, no, Wanda, please stay with me, Wanda please!” You whimper, sensing Bucky getting closer by the second. You growl at Bucky who is now just a couple feet (or meters for you non-Americans) from behind you. Standing up, you focus on your power is much more powerful from the source, than Bucky's use of your tears. 

A bright white light shoots across the room and shoots Bucky straight in the heart. He starts to glow and shine as pure, white rays strike through him. Once he catches his breath, Wanda is able to get up on shaky legs. Her eyes burn bright red and large tendrils extend from her hands and each one cuts through Bucky's floating body. Crimson blood splatters everywhere as each long tentacle of energy stabs through his torso, legs, arms, and head. 

You cover yourself with your wings as his blood splatters across them painting them red. Out of curiosity, you put your wings back, only to see the finale of Wanda's revenge. The red tendrils wrap their way around Bucky's limbs and neck, pulling in different directions. His severed torso falls to the ground and the rest of his blood is splattered everywhere else. 

Your body is soaked and you are frozen in fear. Wanda continues to control each of the tendrils, stabbing in and out of Bucky's dismembered being leaving him just a pile of bloody body parts. Your eyes flick to Wanda, and you sigh knowing that she should stop. 

Approaching her carefully, you gently place your hand on her shoulder. She whips around, the energy in her hand turning into a ruby-red sword. She was ready to kill anyone who got in her way. Once the realization hits that it is you, she falls to her knees and lets out a chilling sob.

You drop with her and you smile softly as she pulls you to her chest. “Hey, its ok… it’s ok…” You whisper in her ear, not thinking that you would be the one comforting her at this moment. Her hair is coated in the sticky crimson liquid and you do your best to brush it out of her hair with your fingers as best you can. 

She smiles at you, and you close the gap between you two, kissing her passionately with every fiber of your being. Wanda being Wanda, she deepens the kiss, wrapping her hand around the back of your neck to bring you impossibly closer. Silently she brushes her fingers over your blood-coated wings and she is in control and emotionally intact, she gently picks you up, one arm going under your legs and the other cradling your back.

Your arms wrap around her neck and nuzzle your face into her chest. As you see the direction she is walking, you smile. You first enter the bedroom, a large room filled with the most exquisite decor, the softest blankets, and the finest clothing for your and Wanda's likeness. You then entered the bathroom, a tub large enough to fit three in the center of the room. A glass chandelier hangs above it, and numerous candles are nestled in their places. 

Wanda sets you on your feet and begins to press soft kisses to your jaw and to the nape of your neck. She reaches around your front to untie the robe draped on your body, and her hands gently drag it down your shoulders, the fabric pooling at your feet. Your wings spread, stretching out to their full span, and fall back to their settled place at the center of your back. The queen ogles at your beautifully open wings and smiles as she pets the feathers. 

“So beautiful, angel,” She whispers in your ear, causing your heart to skip a beat. Her hand hovers over your shoulder, her magic turning the faucet on to a desirable temperature. Wanda cresses down your arm, goosebumps pebbling on your skin, her hand grasping yours softly. Guiding you to the tub, you step in and allow the warmth to embrace you. 

The water turned red the moment you stepped in, but it was meant to happen. Wanda was happy to see Bucky's blood come off of your precious body. You rested your head against your arm, looking up at the beautiful queen gently scrubbing the blood from your skin. She was going to save your wings for last, wanting to spend every second she could with you. 

With each wipe of the soft cloth, your natural skin color began to show again. Your body is restored and clean, and you have never felt better. Even in heaven, you could never relax and feel safe at the same time. There was always someone lurking around a corner, waiting to catch you in the act of anything unholy. 

It was true, that when Wanda and Bucky made love to one another, you felt everything. Since you were so far away, it was a much lighter feeling. But the nights when you were in your own bed, and in the privacy of your room, it seemed like that was when the pair would go at it the hardest. 

Wanda pulled you from your thoughts as she stood. Looking up at her, you smile as she takes her robe off as well, letting it drop to the floor. You happily move forward in the tub, making room for the queen behind you. She smiled as she moved her legs around your body, her hands meeting your feathered wings softly. 

“Let’s clean these up… make em’ all pretty again.” You smile at her words, her kind hands against your wings causing you to shiver. A good shiver this time! This time, your shiver was induced by an intimacy that only lovers can define. Your wings may be just another part of your body, but to you, they are so much more. It was a part of you that no one got to touch. If they were touched, it was forced and unwanted. Until now…Now your soulmate was able to feel you and feel that part of you that you let no one touch. 

You vowed to never let anyone touch your wings after what happened the first time; 

Soap is lathered up in Wanda's hands, and suds with warm water gently cascaded down your wings. With care, she lifts up some of your feathers to scrub deeper, but she is met with a large scar that follows the span of your wings. Her lips turn down to a frown as her finger softly traces the faded, yet obvious scar. “What happened?”

Your eyes open, and you feel her fingers on your wings. “Hm?" Realization hits, and you sigh as you gather the courage to tell her the story. 

“I was given a second chance to go to earth. I was working out the basics of invisibility with guardianship, and I accidentally showed myself to my first human. His name was Steve Rogers. He kept me in his basement, put hooks in my wings. That scar was the consequence of praying for help… He cut a whole layer of feathers off, and made it a garland for his mantle.” You pause, once again finding the strength to finish. "Ever since then, my lord kept me from going to earth until he found a more gentle human for me. But she died, and now I’m here.”

Wanda's heartstrings were pulled, and a tear fell down her cheek and dripped into the red water. She had a hard time finding the right thing to say, but she knew she had to say something. “You didn’t deserve that, my sweet angel…” She leans forward to kiss the skin between your wings, comforting you the best she can. She remembered that day. She could feel everything that man did to you. It may have not shown up on her, but she felt every feather he plucked, each poke to hold your wings out, and the pull of the chains for him to see even more. 

You knew this too, but she understood your silence. The bathroom stayed quiet as Wanda cleaned your wings, ridding them of Bucky's blood. It was just the trickling of the water dripping off your feathers that echoed throughout the room. 

Finally, your wings were white again, and you helped Wanda clean herself too. Once the two of you were clean, she emptied the bathtub only to fill it again. There was no need to protest as you loved baths. They made you feel like you were wrapped in a big hug. To make it even better, Wanda's black-feathered wings curled around you and her, your head laying on her chest, and your body contently in her arms. 

Now with your soulmate being that embrace, you felt like you were finally home. You had a purpose here. You had fallen right into her embrace, and you will forever be her fallen angel. 

[retroellie]

Bloody mess

Summary: Period pains suck and Daryl only knows one way to help you

A/N: I'm on my period and very Horny for Daryl rn, so hey :) Have a acute little period smut. Also, i want to start writing blurbs because writing full fanfics is so time consuming and i have some many ideas but not enough time to write them yk? So, expect short fics coming up!!

Warnings: NSFW, Cunnilingus, period sex, blood and just gross descriptions

Word Count: 2.2K

You don’t know how you ended up in this situation, with your hands tangled in Daryl’s hair as he went to town between your thighs. You just came home from work to find the kids at Rositas house, the house was empty and the shower was basically calling for you. You were in extreme amounts of pain, you had gotten your period that morning and throughout work you were on the verge of just collapsing so all you wanted to do right now was lay in bed and hope the cramps stopped.

The nice hot shower you took helped some, the dull ache in your stomach ceased for only a couple minutes before it came back and twice as bad. You could do nothing else but put on some underwear with a huge pad and one of Daryl’s black shirts, just lay there until it felt better. You were laying there with your eyes shut and a hot water bottle on your stomach, it was useless even trying to sleep because the pain would wake you.

You thought all hope was lost until you heard the front door open, at first you thought it was the kids so you attempted to cover up some but the footsteps you heard were much heavier than your goofball niece and nephew. The footsteps go louder as they make their way into your room, the door creaking open to reveal the culprit of the noise. It was Daryl, he was coming home from a long day at work and he was exhausted to say the least.

The first thing he saw was you with a towel underneath you, a pair of black underwear and his shirt. At first he thought you were genuinely dying with how sickly you looked but he eased up when he saw your little eyes peek over at him and he saw you were just fine… maybe not fine but you were alive.

“Hey….” You said weakly, hand attempting to block out the sun from your eyes.

“Hey. Are you good?” He asked, making his way into the room fully to set his things down.

You shrugged, moving your body so you were laying flat on your back and you could get a better look at him. You weren’t sure why but the way his black shirt tightened around his chest and how his arms were far too big for it had your stomach fluttering. Maybe it was your hormones craving to be touched or it was simply exactly what Daryl did to you when he came home from work, all sweaty and worn down.

“Hmm, it’s my period. came early this time and it hurts like a bitch.” you replied, hand placing the hot water bottle on your stomach. The pressure of it slightly makes you wince.

Daryl felt terrible, he knew it wasn’t his doing but still hurt to see you in such pain. Not to mention Daryl had seen you take out hoards of walkers by yourself, he’s seen you get shot too many times and you can take a stab wound like it’s a simple scratch so seeing you like this… in pain and broken down simply because your body is fighting against you, Daryl feels awful. He didn’t know what to do to make you feel better but be there for you and even then, that won’t stop the pain.

However, Daryl sometimes hears his coworkers talk, although they talk in such disgusting ways about women he tends to take in the information and learn from it. One time he overheard his coworker saying how period cramps can be helped with orgasms, he’s not sure if that’s true or not but if it’s the only thing to help you in this moment… he’ll eat it like a hungry man. It’ll also benefit him, he loves coming home after a long day at work and just makeout with your pussy.

“‘M sorry bunny…” he said, climbing onto the bed below you and rubbing your feet comfortingly.

You smiled, hand still gripping onto the hot water bottle as it burned your skin. Daryl continued rubbing your feet, making his way to your calves and your tired knees. The warmth of his fingers felt nice, the roughness of them giving you a slight tingle that led to your heart. You closed your eyes, taking in the pleasure of being touched.

“Ya know I heard orgasms help cramps.” He stated, causing you to let out a laugh.

You weren’t expecting it, it was random and caught you off guard. You guys had sex a lot, any chance you got Daryl would be inside of you but you never let him do anything to you in your period. Not that you think Daryl would care but it was messy and you were honestly embarrassed by it, I mean you literally have blood coming out of your vagina… you don’t expect him to want to get all bloodied up for you. You thought he was kidding but the look on his face was serious.

“Really?” You asked, sitting up on your elbows to face him.

“Yeah, why not.” He stated.

You furrowed your brows, cocking your head to the side like that was the most goofiest thing you had ever heard anyone say. Daryl just ran his hand closer and closer to your underwear, hinting at what he wanted. You obviously didn’t stop him but you did recoil back abit, your thighs slowly inching together as he got higher and higher.

“Ya don’t have to do anything’, just sit back and look pretty for me.” He grinned, watching your facial features change as his arousing words sent shivers down your spine.

“But it’s gonna be messy…” you said, hesitating on whether you wanted to do this or not.

Daryl gave you the stupidest face you’ve ever seen a person give you, he looked to say “really you dumb bitch.” With only his eyes. You were serious though, you were honestly hesitant because you were embarrassed by it.

“When has a little blood ever stopped me??” He asked, his face still with that stupid look on it.

Daryl has been bloodied before, so bloody you couldn’t even recognize him and every time you could end up fucking him silly. This way you can get him all bloody without the harm towards him plus you could ease up those fucking cramps you were experiencing.

You opened your legs again, inching open so Daryl knew he had the right away. As soon as Daryl even thought you were giving him the okay he did not hesitate in getting started immediately. He damn near ripped your panties off, seeing your cunt glistening with a mixture of blood and your wetness. Daryl has eaten cooked dogs before and even fucking worms so he was going to eat you like a fucking steak dinner.

He sat on his knees above you, stripping himself of his vest and his shirt attempting to throw them on the dresser but missing completely. As he did so his eyes were trained on your cunt, he was so ready for it and he was so excited that you actually let him do so. He then bent down, eye to eye with your cunt as he slowly started kissing his way up to it. He kissed the insides of your thighs, not leaving a single spot unmarked, he even left a hickey here and there.

Your legs were already shaking, mostly with excitement but nervousness was also seeking through your body but you didn’t feel it for long before Daryl shoved his face in your pussy. It was so unexpected that you let out almost a pornographic moan causing Daryl to chuckle on your pussy. He started slowly, lapping up the blood that was seeping out of you slowly. You could already feel your cramps stop, instead your stomach was filled with a knot that was deep inside you.

Daryl licked up your cunt, teasing your clit as he licked anywhere but the bundle of nerves. His hands held down your thighs as they started to close around his head, giving him a perfect angle to eat your pussy nice and right. Daryl had all day to make you feel good and he was going to use it all up, hoping that maybe the neighbors could hear your pleas and moans.

“Daryl…” you moaned, the words basically imprinted on your tongue from how often you say it.

He was only egged on by your moans, his lips suckled down on your clit. You were right when you said it was going to be messy, the white towel you had placed down is now red, Daryl’s upper half is soaked with your blood and his hair was covered in it too. You got so lost in lust and pleasure that you didn’t care about the mess anymore, you just grabbed a fist full of his hair and pushed him closer onto you.

Daryl’s tongue continued lapping at gout pussy, sucking and licking until you were going completely insane. His hands made their way up to your tits, lifting up his black shirt you wore to squeeze the flesh that was there. You were getting lost in ecstasy, so high in the clouds that you forgot you were even bleeding in the first place. That was Daryl’s plan all along, making sure you forgot how your body was literally shedding itself of old tissue, which honestly fascinated the hell out of Daryl.

“M so close Daryl…” you moaned, gripping onto his hair harder.

Daryl looked up, peeking up to see you high in the clouds. Your back was arched, your eyes shut tightly and your hand making sure his hands stayed massaging your tits. He thought you looked so beautiful, so angelic and so fucking sexy, he could stay like this forever if you’d only let him. Daryl knew how to make you cum and he knew how to do it well too so he took his free hand and stuffed two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out while his tongue worked in your clit.

The knot in your stomach grew tighter, becoming so unbelievably tight it became so uncomfortable as if you didn’t cum it would quite literally kill you. Your hips started to grind against his face, holding his head in place as you did so. His nose was now deep inside your slit, his tongue still lapping your bloody cunt and his fingers going at a slow and teasing pace.

“fuck… shit…. Daryl I’m cumming!!” You screamed, his actions only picking up in pace.

Just then the knot in your stomach exploded, your juices spilling out of you, mixing in with your blood. You continued to grind on his face, this time your thrust was jagged and jumpy. Daryl tongue fucked you through your orgasm, shoved his fingers in and out of you even through your walls were contracting against them. You came with a loud scream, sounding as though you had been being murdered.

After your hips had stopped bucking violently and the only thing you felt now was the soft aftershocks of the mind shattering orgasm, leaving your body shaking softly, Daryl was working his tongue on you still. He lapped up all the blood and cum that had been left behind, taking it all in and tasting the metallic sweet taste it left behind. You were sensitive now, overstimulated and every time his tongue touched your sensitive bud, your hips would jolt up and your thighs would attempt to close.

When Daryl was finally done with you, making sure your cunt was clean and rid of all juices, he pulled away from you. His face was dripping with you, blood marked his entire face almost and it was damn near dripping off of him. You looked into his lust blown blue eyes, seeing his softness in them which honestly turned you in more. He just did the most disgusting thing and his eyes are still so soft when they look at you, how can someone so rough and scary be so angelic to you.

You don’t know what came over you but for some reason you had the violent urge to kiss his bloodied lips. You sat up still looking him right in the eyes as you grabbed him by his face and pulled him into a rough kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, lapping your juices up and taking them into your own mouth. Most would be disgusted at what you were doing, all of this would be horrific to them but not you. You found what he did so fucking attractive and he did it all for you, well maybe his self just a little.

“Do you feel better?” He said pulling away from you, seeing how your face was now covered with your own blood. You just smiled up at him, leaving soft kisses along his jaw.

“I mean for the most part… I think I might need another orgasm though.” You joked, sucking and licking at his neck now.

Daryl chuckled lowly, eyes closing as you created small love bites on his neck. You wanted him more than ever now and he was gladly going to give you everything your little heart desired. He just pulled you off of him, laying you down so your head hit the pillows and readied himself for the long, messy night that was to come.

“Anything for my bunny” he said before moving in between your legs once again, ready to overstimulate and fuck you until you were begging him to stop.

[shanastoryteller]

happy holidays! siat asim and lucius please

There's a soft trilling coming from his fireplace and Asim almost doesn't answer it. It's late and he's just come back from a shift that was hell and sometimes he wonders if he's doing any good at all or if he's just there so people can suffer differently before dying painfully.

There are so, so many ways to hurt people and often only one way to save them. He knows too much of the former and not enough of the latter.

His fireplace makes another enquiring trill and he taps the brick with his wand.

It's Lucius.

He only ever calls him for one reason.

Asim accepts the call and is unsurprised to see his fireplace empty. He's likely not in any condition to be crawling on the floor, not that his sort ever do that sort of thing. There's a reason that fireplaces tall enough to stand in are almost standard in magical homes - no one is interested in getting on there hands in knees when they could just lean forward.

He steps into the flames, finding himself spit out in the townhouse in France that Lucius started living in after graduation. It's not much distance from Abraxas, but he'd been glad of it anyway.

There can never be enough distance from Abraxas, which he's reminded of when he looks over to see Lucius laying shirtless on his stomach on the chaise, his head resting on his left arm and his other arm drags to the ground where his hand is gripped around a glass of firewhiskey.

His back looks like hamburger meat.

It's nothing but long cuts and blood, more exposed muscle than should exist outside of a butcher.

"Sorry," he slurs, eyes hazy as they slowly meet his. "Potions took care of the little stuff."

He's known Lucius long enough that he flinches at the idea of what he considers the little stuff. He's more than aware enough of what it has to be, considering the caliber of healing potions he has access too.

Broken bones take a lot. After that, healing potions can get a little confused. There's a reason bones are better healed by a spell. It was probably that, but he knows better than to ask.

Asim shoves down familiar anger and says, "How long were you waiting? You could have called another healer."

Lucius doesn't say anything even as he starts, running a diagnostic spell then beginning the time consuming process of healing every laceration separately. If he doesn't, Lucius's body just stops accepting the magic, not reacting well to broad application.

Overexposure, probably, but it's not like he can just be left bleeding. Abraxas wishes Lucius would let him add it to his chart.

His breath hitches at a particularly deep wound, then he says, "You're the only one that doesn't talk."

Asim hates people sometimes. There are trustworthy healers out there, but he supposes they don't do house calls without asking questions. He probably shouldn't, either.

But he just can't leave him bleeding.

"You should be more careful," he says instead. He knows it's not an accident, that this can't be an accident, but they never talk about what it really is. They never talk about Abraxas.

Lucius smiles, which is shocking enough that Asim stops mid-spell. "I knew this would happen. It's a price I'm willing to pay."

This is more than he's ever gotten from him before. It's oddly disconcerting. "Lucius?"

"I got engaged," he says.

Asim waits for more, but when Lucius just keeps silent and smiling as he continues to work on his back, he says, "Congratulations."

A wife of Lucius's choosing rather than Abraxas's. Maybe she can do some good.

Anyone he loves enough to go through this to have won't sit back and watch as her husband suffers. He hopes.

[spaceycowboys]

echoes of your name inside my mind

pairing: aemond targaryen x female!reader; aegon targaryen x female!reader (one sided)

summary: aegon has a constant reminder that you will never be his, no matter how badly he wishes you to be. or maybe you could be.

warnings: light smut, yandere!aegon, pining!aegon, oral sex (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), NONCON/DUBCON SEX (female receiving but not reader and not heavily detailed), noncon voyeurism, violence, threats of bodily harm, unconsented kiss, aegon is a lil creepy, not edited, will return later to edit. open ended for possible part two if anyone wants it, please let me know if i missed anything!

notes: repost because i am convinced tumblr hates me. i am not 100% pleased with this if i am being honest :( but i am still wanting to post it! i think it turned out good, it just didn’t end up exactly like i had wanted it too. thank you everyone for all your patience while waiting for this fic, and thank you everyone for being so kind when i had to delay due to being ill, i appreciate each and every one of you. i imagine this ready being the same tyrell!reader from my fic starry eyes sparking up my darkest night but not necessarily a sequel to it! just could possibly be in the same universe.  please interact and leave a comment or reblog and let me know your thoughts, feedback of any kind if always so appreciated! please heed warnings before you consume this content! i don’t want anyone reading anything that may make them uncomfortable. title credits: don’t blame me by taylor swift

word count: 4.1k

 Aegon’s never felt this way before. The swelling in his chest so unfamiliar when you smile softly at him, a smile you typically reserve for your husband, directed towards him across the table at dinner.

Your hair is down this evening, something you’ve only started doing recently. Foregoing the braids and just letting it fall down your back, it looks better with the way it frames your face when it’s down, Aegon thinks to himself. By the looks of it, Aemond thinks so to.

Aemond loves you, his sweet and kindhearted lady wife, so very deeply. At one point it would’ve made Aegon sick to his stomach to witness, willing him to throw up whatever . The way he dotes on you, holds your hand while you walk through the Keep, brushes your hair back when it gets in the way of your reading, tenderly rubs your face with his thumbs when you get excited while talking.

It still does make him sick to his stomach, just not in the same way it used to. No. This sickness crawls at his chest, a feeling so cold yet so hot, and his stomach twists into tight knots, hands clamp up and throat swells in an unfamiliar way. It makes him feel like he’s dying.

Perhaps he is. Maybe not having a love like the love you hold for Aemond will ultimately be what kills him. He’s sure Helaena could love him if he could show her any kindness. He doesn’t want that kind of love from Helaena.

Aegon’s eyes watch as Aemond continues his conversation with Jason Lannister, but hand reaches for yours as you speak animatedly with Helaena about something.

His ears are ringing as he grabs the cup full of wine and downs it in two gulps. Aemond’s hand squeezes yours twice, you smile at Helaena as you squeeze his back. The servant girl refills his cup for him, tearing his eyes away from your joined hands he looks to her.

Her hair is the same color as yours. Though, her eyes aren’t the same color, eyebrows aren’t the same shape, lips are quiet a bit smaller than yours. Her hand looks about the same size as yours, even if it is rougher and has callouses.

She will do. He supposes.

“What is your name?” He looks away from her as he asks, and her hold on the pitcher tightens.

“I’m sorry?” Her voice is shaky, she’s already annoying him.

His head snaps back to hers, eyes boring deeply into her own as the girl feels her blood run cold, “I asked you for your name.”

She looks around the table. Her eyes lingering at the Queen, his mother, Helaena, and you for a moment.

“My name is Elaine, my Prince,” He hums a bored tone before nodding.

“I will require wine in my chambers after dinner, Elaine.” His voice isn’t soft, and he doesn’t hide what he plans on doing later.

His mother looks furious, Helaena just looks down at her plate. You, however, you look almost disappointed. As if you couldn’t believe he would do such a thing, let alone in front of his own wife.

Aemond pulls your eyes away from Aegon, a frown adorning his face when he notices the grimace on your own. His eyes looks at the shame on Helaena’s and the anger on his mothers as she looks at his older brother before he puts together what must’ve occurred.

He clears his throat and gives lord Lannister a tight smile, “I must apologize, my Lord. My wife is quite tired today and seems to be ready to retire,”

The words are a courtesy, not much else, everyone at the table except Jason Lannister seems aware of that, “Can your lady wife not see herself to bed, my Prince?”

Aemond’s hand twitches at the implied disrespect, but it’s Aegon who speaks up, “Are you implying that that my brother should allow my Good Sister, his lady wife, to head to bed alone?”

Jason Lannister looks uncomfortable at the attention of the table now being on him, “I meant nothing of it, my Prince. I just meant a Lady can typically see herself to bed while her husband continues his evening,” He ends the statement with an awkward escaping his mouth at the heated eyes of the two Princes as well as the distressed eye of the Queen at the impending argument.

You clear your throat, dainty hand reaching for you husbands nervously, “Ah, yes, Lord Lannister. I am sure I could find my rest alone, however; my husband has been very tired as of late, and I require him to have an appropriate amount of rest.”

Aegon watches Lord Lannister like a hawk, demanding him to imply any further sort of insult to you. When the Lord stays quiet, averting his gaze to the Hand of the King, Aegon allows his eyes to travel back to you and Aemond, watching distastefully as he places his hand on the small of your back to lead you to your private quarters.

εїз

The servant girl, Elaine, doesn’t struggle when he grabs her waist and pushes her face down on his bed when she walks in. She knows what she’s here for, but Aegon can’t help but feel irritated she didn’t even bother to actually bring any wine. The lack of drink will make the experience harder for him, the more sober he is the more he’ll be able to realize the woman beneath him isn’t you.

She doesn’t struggle when he grabs her hair tightly, groaning when he thinks of it being you beneath him, his cock stirring to life at the thought of you being beneath him as he lets his imagination run wild.

She does, however, cry when his cock enters her. She isn’t nearly as wet as Aegon would like for her to be, but he can make do. It’s not like he truly cares much for her pleasure anyway.

When she gets to loud, he presses her face harder into the mattress and thrusts into her a little faster. Her sobbing ruining his mood, but not enough for him to stop.

He thinks of you. Your soft smile that you sent him at dinner, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke with Helaena as she talked about the twins, the way the neckline of your dress dipped almost too low to be considered modest.

Fuck, he can’t stop wondering what your bare chest looks like, if you like it when your nipples are sucked on, if you prefer being on top.

The thoughts of you have him cumming after a few more thrusts. When he pulls out, the sobbing maid stands shakily and looks to him, silently begging to be dismissed. He waves his hand towards the door after telling her to expect a visit from his mother.

εїз

Aegon doesn’t spend much time in the library, he’s never been one to care for learning any histories or reading silly stories, but he knows you do, which is maybe why after hearing Aemond would be gone for the afternoon he heads towards the library. Silently hoping for a moment alone with you, just to be in your presence for a mere moment before leaving the Keep for the remainder of the day until he’s drug back to the castle and more than likely forced into bed with Helaena.

When he turns a corner around a large shelf housing books, his eyes nearly pop out of his skull in surprise.

His eyes must be deceiving him, there is no way Aemond would have you in such a position where people could see you.

But he does.

Aegon feels like he’s intruding on something, and honestly he knows he is. But he can’t tear his eyes away.

Aemond has you pressed up against a bookshelf, one hand pressed against your chest to hold you in place. He’s under the skirt of your dress, though Aegon can’t see what Aemond is doing, he has an inkling of what’s going on beneath your skirts.

He’s heard whispers of your husband’s insatiable appetite for you, how maids would often be searching for you only to find you in a semi-public area with your husband’s head between your legs or roughly fucking you from behind. He’d thought they were lying, honestly. There was no way Aemond would doing such a thing, his self-righteous brother wouldn’t dare do such a thing to his sweet wife.

Apparently he does.

You’re biting your lip to keep any noises from coming out, whatever Aemond’s doing with his mouth beneath your skirts, you’re very much enjoying.

It’s not really the first time Aegon has seen the two of you in such a position, but never in a public place. Not that anyone but the two of you really visit this particular library.

Usually when Aegon watches, he watches from a distance. There is a balcony on a tower that if he stands at the right angle he can see in your room is his go to spot. Or, when he’s feeling desperate, he’ll hide in the tunnels of the Keep, standing outside the one leading to your room with his cock in his hand as he listens to your moans and pleas as Aemond fucks you harshly.

“Aemond,” Your voice is a breathy moan, it sounds like heaven.

Your hands rest at your sides, clenched tightly as your husband eats you as if you’re the last meal he’ll be allowed to have. Which Aegon can’t ever say it out loud, but he would do the same. He’s never been one for giving oral, but if he could live and breath between your thighs, he mouth would rarely leave your cunt.

Your moans have Aegon’s cock stirring to life beneath his pants as he watches. He doesn’t know how long Aemond has been committing the taste of you to his memory, nor how close you are to cumming, but if he had to guess you’re close.

Your body is tensing, hands gripping the edge of the bookshelf so tightly he wonders if it will break, moans getting louder and nose scrunching up. Chants of his brother’s name, Aemond, Aemond, Aemond leave your mouth is desperate, pitchy whines. Whole body shaking as his brother’s hand moves from your chest to take one of your own and intertwine your fingers.

The loving gesture has Aegon’s cock softening as he bites back a scoff. It’s easier for him to watch when Aemond has had a rough day, more interested in taking in the moment rather than giving. When Aemond is soft, it’s not as easy for him to remember who you are to him, who he is to his brother.

Your breathing evens out but your hand stays intertwined with his brothers, eyes still closed in the afterglow of your orgasm. Aegon decides to take his leave when he notices his brother moving under your skirt. He doesn’t want his mother to think any less of him than she already does; for not only lusting for is good sister, but for watching as his brother pleasures her.

He can always find you later, he supposes.

εїз

Aegon does find you later.

He finds you sitting in the Godswood, praying to the Old Gods just as you pray to the Seven in the Sept with Helaena.

“You pray to the Old Gods often, sister?” His voice startles you, a laugh slipping past his lips as you turn to him with wide eyes.

“Prince Aegon, you frightened me,” Your voice is as soft as it always is, steady as if not to show how much he actually frightened you moments before.

“Apologies, sweet sister,” He hums out, as he makes his way over to sit next to you in front of the weirwood tree, “I did not know your family had the faith of the Old Gods,”

You hum softly before glancing over at him, “During my time in Winterfell I became quite fond of their faith,”

Aegon feels his stomach turn sour at the mention of your time in Winterfell, when Cregan Stark had been the one your father had been leaning most towards for your betrothal, up until his grandsire and mother sent a letter offering Aemond’s hand.

“You spent a lot of time there?” He know how long you spent there, how fond you became of the North and the people, of Cregan. His brother spoke about the distaste he held for the Starks often after you had been moved here permanently as his.

“Hm, a little over a year, it was very different than Highgarden, and very different than here,” You trail off, talking highly of the North.

Aegon stops listening to your words, opting to watch the way your mouth moves as you speak. He doesn’t know what comes over him, maybe it’s the close proximity, or perhaps it’s the fact that it’s the first time you’ve actually been alone with him, he isn’t sure.

But one minute, your speaking and smiling, then the next, Aegon’s mouth is on your own. A gasp of pure shock escapes you, eyes wide in horror.

Your mouth is as soft as he imagined it would be, but you rip yourself away from him before he can truly savor the taste of you.

You look like you’ve been struck, eyes wide with tears lining them and mouth open in shock. Aegon’s throat tightens up at the look of betrayal on your face, “What have you done?”

His hands shake as he reaches for your own shaky ones, bile rising in his throat as you stand quickly and move to leave the area, more than likely to find your husband and tell him what his brother has done.

“Wait,” He rushes to follow you, “Wait! I’m sorry, fuck! I don’t know what came over me?”

His hand grabs your wrist, squeezing tightly as he turns you towards him, “I’m sorry. I don’t- Please don’t tell Aemond,”

You struggle to pull yourself away from him, causing his grip to tighten even more as he shoves you up against a nearby. You can feel it bruising, “Of course I am telling him! He is my husband, and you have dishonored me!”

He winces, “No, no I haven’t. I would never, you don’t understand. It was a mistake. I did not mean to,”

“You did not mean to? What was your intention then, Aegon?”

He sighs, frustration rising in him as he looks at you and your stupid, beautiful face, “I love you,”

Horror bleeds into your features, “No!”

A halfhearted laugh escapes him, “Indeed, my Lady,” he nudges his nose against your own, causing you to jerk away from him.

“Aegon-“

“Don’t say anything,” He whispers softly, mouth ghosting against your own, “Don’t ruin the moment.”

Tears fall down your cheeks as you look at the man before you. He’s smaller than his brother, but still bigger than you. And his nails are now digging into your wrist painfully, blood seeps through his fingertips.

You’ve heard the whispers, your own handmaidens doing their best to keep you from the older prince due to them. The whispers of how when he travels to the streets of silk, he requests women who look similar to you, or enough like you from behind. How your husband never allows you to be alone with his brother. You didn’t want to believe them, refused even.

You cannot ignore the words as they whirl around in your head now.

His face is in your neck, nose nudging at the junction of where your shoulder and neck meet as he inhales your scent and sighs.

“When I’m King, I could take you from him. I’ll get rid of him, rid myself of Helaena. Just you and me, sweet girl,”

Your ears are ringing, fear rushing through your veins as you begin struggling against him as sobs escape you, “Please let me go, Aegon. Please don’t hurt me,”

The fear that bleeds through your words cause him to rip away from you, as if your touch burned him. He looks as if he’s actually seeing you for the first time since he kissed you.

Your face is wet with tears and snot, hair slightly disheveled from the struggle, wrist bruised and bleeding from where he was gripping you. It shames his to watch you struggle to catch your breath, you are obviously struggling heavily with what he’s done, and his veins are on fire looking at you. He’s disgusted with himself as he feel his cock harden at your appearance.

“I’m, fuck, I’m sorry,” He’s sorry he hurt you, but he’s not sorry about much else. He knows your going to tell Aemond, and he won’t be lying when his brother comes to confront him. He may be a pig, but he can’t bring himself to dishonor you or imply you a liar.

He watches as your wipe your face, watching him wearily as you slowly leave, surly rushing to find a handmaiden to help you clean yourself up.

He decides to go to his room and wait for Aemond to visit him, or his mother. He supposed it’ll be whichever you run into first.

εїз

Aemond feels his blood boiling as he marches from your room to Aegon’s. Fury flooding his veins as he grinds his teeth together.

The state he found you in was heartbreaking, blood on your wrist still flowing as you cried and sobbed out what had happened before getting on your knees and clinging to him like a child, begging him to not be angry with you.

Anger was never an emotion Aemond felt like he could possess towards you. After all, you’re his sweet, sweet wife. He loves you.

Aegon, on the other hand, is a different story. He knows that no matter how bad he wants to, he can’t kill his brother. He wishes he could, but his mother would be furious if he did so.

He dismisses the guards as he walks into his brother’s room. Aegon stands, preparing himself for a fight immediately, only to be caught slightly by surprise as his brother gives him a once over and then starts laughing.

Aemond laughs, an actual humor filled laugh, “I’m sorry, truly, this is just so fucking funny,”

Aegon flushes, a deep red covering his face, “What?”

“Are you fucking stupid?” Aemond grits out through clenched teeth, “She is my fucking wife. My wife!”

Aegon loathes the tone in Aemond’s voice, the way he’s talking down to him as if he’s actually done something wrong, which he knows he has. But it’s not as if he raped you.

“I am painfully aware, brother-“

“No, you spoiled fucking cunt, I don’t think you are,” Aemond pushes him up against the wall harshly. “And, quite frankly, I don’t give a fuck if you are or not.”

Aegon rolls his eyes, “I know she is your fucking wife, Aemond.”

Aemond’s hand is on Aegon’s throat before the bitter sentence spits its way out of his mouth, squeezing in a threatening manner, but not tight enough to choke him fully. If Aegon hadn’t pissed him off, and if he couldn’t see the look in his brother’s eyes, Aegon could assume he was jesting.

“If I find you even breathing near her again, I’ll cut your fucking cock off and feed it to Vhagar. You dishonor our mother, you dishonor your wife, I will not allow you to even think about attempting to dishonor mine just because you’ve decided you want her,”

It’s not a time to pick at him, Aegon knows this, yet the words come out anyway, “And yet you fuck her anywhere you can get your hands on her, that is a bit dishonoring, do you not think? Hm, little brother?”

Aemond’s fingers squeeze at Aegon’s neck, “I will fuck my wife anywhere I please, brother, because I am her fucking husband.”

He rips his hand from Aegon’s neck when he starts turning slightly purple, “I pity you, Aegon.”

Aegon growls and considers lunging at him, “I don’t want your fucking pity,”

Aemond huffs out a laugh, “No, but you do want my fucking wife. And you cannot have her,”

A fit of rage fills Aegon as he watches his brother laugh at him, “When I become King, I could annule your marriage to her, and take her for myself,”

Aemond’s face is hard again, eye gleaming in a deep anger, “If you attempt to do anything of the sorts,  you will be disappointed when I turn to our older sister and back her claim,”

Aegon knows it was a low blow, and he truly never would annule your marriage to his brother. He wouldn’t want to have you against your will, despite what people say about him.

His head falls slightly, “I wanted her, at one point.”

He’s never admitted it out loud to anyone of importance, when you’d come to court with your father all those years ago, been kind to everyone you’d met, Aegon had been taken with you. A small similarity the two brothers shared despite their many differences.

He’d heard his father speak to his sister about how you’d be a good match for her son, a true Queen you’d be one day. He silently hoped his mother would try to take you from Rhaenyra and give you to him, and he’d been partially right.

His mother did fight for a marriage for her son, Aemond. While Aegon was stuck marrying his unhinged sister, his crippled brother would be given your hand if your father agreed.

Sometimes he wonders if he would have turned out different if he would’ve spoken up, but he knows he’ll never know. Aemond would probably kill you if it meant saving you from the horrors that you would most likely live if Aegon took you. His sexual appetite alone would never be satiated, Aegon knows Aemond would see it as doing you a favor.

“I know,” Aemond’s words surprise Aegon. “You know?”

“I’m not stupid. I see how you look at her, how the whores and servants you tend to ask for look like her. I know you watch when I take her,”

Aemond’s words should bring Aegon shame, but they don’t, “I am not sorry,”

It’s clearly stated, the clearest thing he’s said to Aemond in years, if they had been closer Aemond may have cared.

“And I am not sorry, either.” His hurt tone hurts Aegon’s heart, but it doesn’t hurt it more than knowing that he’ll have to watch you be with Aemond for the rest of his life. “She is my wife. You have a wife. If for whatever reason you are still unsatisfied, you have plenty of whores at your disposal, find one that looks enough like my wife to state you,”

Aemond closes his eye takes a deep breath, a look in his eye that Aegon does not recognize when Aemond looks back at him, “If you touch her again, if you draw blood from her body again or tears from her eyes, I’ll take your fucking head and gift it to her. I won’t see you near her again. I may not be able to kill you right now for harming her, but do not take this as me letting this go. You are lucky our mother loves you, because if she didn’t I would not let you live for what you’ve done. If it happens again-“

Aemond cuts himself off and shakes his head, giving his brother one final bitter look before storming out of his chambers.

As he watches Aemond walk away, Aegon’s bitter feeling molts into something deeper. His brother is right, he does have whores satiate him, plenty of them can look like you. He can shove their faces into whatever surface is near and pretend it’s you under him.

Aemond will ruin this for himself, Aegon knows it deep down, feels it in his bones. He knows Aemond is only possessive because he knows how unworthy he is of you; he’ll slip up somewhere. And when he does, when he does somehow ruin things with the pretty little rose from Highgarden in an unmendable way, and only then; Aegon will step in and show you a new form of undoubtful devotion.

Aegon will be King, a fact everyone but his cunt of a sister knows. But you? He’ll worship your body and fill you with his son before Aemond even knows what hit him. You’ll be the Queen.

[spaceyaemonds]

echoes of your name inside my mind

pairing: aemond targaryen x female!reader; aegon targaryen x female!reader (one sided)

summary: aegon has a constant reminder that you will never be his, no matter how badly he wishes you to be. or maybe you could be.

warnings: light smut, yandere!aegon, pining!aegon, oral sex (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), NONCON/DUBCON SEX (female receiving but not reader and not heavily detailed), noncon voyeurism, violence, threats of bodily harm, unconsented kiss, aegon is a lil creepy, not edited, will return later to edit. open ended for possible part two if anyone wants it, please let me know if i missed anything!

notes: REPOST FROM MY OLD BLOG. i am not 100% pleased with this if i am being honest :( but i am still wanting to post it! i think it turned out good, it just didn’t end up exactly like i had wanted it too. thank you everyone for all your patience while waiting for this fic, and thank you everyone for being so kind when i had to delay due to being ill, i appreciate each and every one of you. i imagine this ready being the same tyrell!reader from my starry eyes fic but not necessarily a sequel to it! just could possibly be in the same universe.  please interact and leave a comment or reblog and let me know your thoughts, feedback of any kind if always so appreciated! please heed warnings before you consume this content! i don’t want anyone reading anything that may make them uncomfortable. title credits: don’t blame me by taylor swift

word count: 4.1k

Aegon’s never felt this way before. The swelling in his chest so unfamiliar when you smile softly at him, a smile you typically reserve for your husband, directed towards him across the table at dinner.

Your hair is down this evening, something you’ve only started doing recently. Foregoing the braids and just letting it fall down your back, it looks better with the way it frames your face when it’s down, Aegon thinks to himself. By the looks of it, Aemond thinks so to.

Aemond loves you, his sweet and kindhearted lady wife, so very deeply. At one point it would’ve made Aegon sick to his stomach to witness, willing him to throw up. The way he dotes on you, holds your hand while you walk through the Keep, brushes your hair back when it gets in the way of your reading, tenderly rubs your face with his thumbs when you get excited while talking.

It still does make him sick to his stomach, just not in the same way it used to. No. This sickness crawls at his chest, a feeling so cold yet so hot, and his stomach twists into tight knots, hands clamp up and throat swells in an unfamiliar way. It makes him feel like he’s dying.

Perhaps he is. Maybe not having a love like the love you hold for Aemond will ultimately be what kills him. He’s sure Helaena could love him if he could show her any kindness. He doesn’t want that kind of love from Helaena.

Aegon’s eyes watch as Aemond continues his conversation with Jason Lannister, but hand reaches for yours as you speak animatedly with Helaena about something.

His ears are ringing as he grabs the cup full of wine and downs it in two gulps. Aemond’s hand squeezes yours twice, you smile at Helaena as you squeeze his back. The servant girl refills his cup for him, tearing his eyes away from your joined hands he looks to her.

Her hair is the same color as yours. Though, her eyes aren’t the same color, eyebrows aren’t the same shape, lips are quiet a bit smaller than yours. Her hand looks about the same size as yours, even if it is rougher and has callouses.

She will do. He supposes.

“What is your name?” He looks away from her as he asks, and her hold on the pitcher tightens.

“I’m sorry?” Her voice is shaky, she’s already annoying him.

His head snaps back to hers, eyes boring deeply into her own as the girl feels her blood run cold, “I asked you for your name.”

She looks around the table. Her eyes lingering at the Queen, his mother, Helaena, and you for a moment.

“My name is Elaine, my Prince,” He hums a bored tone before nodding.

“I will require wine in my chambers after dinner, Elaine.” His voice isn’t soft, and he doesn’t hide what he plans on doing later.

His mother looks furious, Helaena just looks down at her plate. You, however, you look almost disappointed. As if you couldn’t believe he would do such a thing, let alone in front of his own wife.

Aemond pulls your eyes away from Aegon, a frown adorning his face when he notices the grimace on your own. His eyes looks at the shame on Helaena’s and the anger on his mothers as she looks at his older brother before he puts together what must’ve occurred.

He clears his throat and gives lord Lannister a tight smile, “I must apologize, my Lord. My wife is quite tired today and seems to be ready to retire,”

The words are a courtesy, not much else, everyone at the table except Jason Lannister seems aware of that, “Can your lady wife not see herself to bed, my Prince?”

Aemond’s hand twitches at the implied disrespect, but it’s Aegon who speaks up, “Are you implying that that my brother should allow my Good Sister, his lady wife, to head to bed alone?”

Jason Lannister looks uncomfortable at the attention of the table now being on him, “I meant nothing of it, my Prince. I just meant a Lady can typically see herself to bed while her husband continues his evening,” He ends the statement with an awkward escaping his mouth at the heated eyes of the two Princes as well as the distressed eye of the Queen at the impending argument.

You clear your throat, dainty hand reaching for you husbands nervously, “Ah, yes, Lord Lannister. I am sure I could find my rest alone, however; my husband has been very tired as of late, and I require him to have an appropriate amount of rest.”

Aegon watches Lord Lannister like a hawk, demanding him to imply any further sort of insult to you. When the Lord stays quiet, averting his gaze to the Hand of the King, Aegon allows his eyes to travel back to you and Aemond, watching distastefully as he places his hand on the small of your back to lead you to your private quarters.

εїз

The servant girl, Elaine, doesn’t struggle when he grabs her waist and pushes her face down on his bed when she walks in. She knows what she’s here for, but Aegon can’t help but feel irritated she didn’t even bother to actually bring any wine. The lack of drink will make the experience harder for him, the more sober he is the more he’ll be able to realize the woman beneath him isn’t you.

She doesn’t struggle when he grabs her hair tightly, groaning when he thinks of it being you beneath him, his cock stirring to life at the thought of you being beneath him as he lets his imagination run wild.

She does, however, cry when his cock enters her. She isn’t nearly as wet as Aegon would like for her to be, but he can make do. It’s not like he truly cares much for her pleasure anyway.

When she gets to loud, he presses her face harder into the mattress and thrusts into her a little faster. Her sobbing ruining his mood, but not enough for him to stop.

He thinks of you. Your soft smile that you sent him at dinner, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke with Helaena as she talked about the twins, the way the neckline of your dress dipped almost too low to be considered modest.

Fuck, he can’t stop wondering what your bare chest looks like, if you like it when your nipples are sucked on, if you prefer being on top.

The thoughts of you have him cumming after a few more thrusts. When he pulls out, the sobbing maid stands shakily and looks to him, silently begging to be dismissed. He waves his hand towards the door after telling her to expect a visit from his mother.

εїз

Aegon doesn’t spend much time in the library, he’s never been one to care for learning any histories or reading silly stories, but he knows you do, which is maybe why after hearing Aemond would be gone for the afternoon he heads towards the library. Silently hoping for a moment alone with you, just to be in your presence for a mere moment before leaving the Keep for the remainder of the day until he’s drug back to the castle and more than likely forced into bed with Helaena.

When he turns a corner around a large shelf housing books, his eyes nearly pop out of his skull in surprise.

His eyes must be deceiving him, there is no way Aemond would have you in such a position where people could see you.

But he does.

Aegon feels like he’s intruding on something, and honestly he knows he is. But he can’t tear his eyes away.

Aemond has you pressed up against a bookshelf, one hand pressed against your chest to hold you in place. He’s under the skirt of your dress, though Aegon can’t see what Aemond is doing, he has an inkling of what’s going on beneath your skirts.

He’s heard whispers of your husband’s insatiable appetite for you, how maids would often be searching for you only to find you in a semi-public area with your husband’s head between your legs or roughly fucking you from behind. He’d thought they were lying, honestly. There was no way Aemond would doing such a thing, his self-righteous brother wouldn’t dare do such a thing to his sweet wife.

Apparently he does.

You’re biting your lip to keep any noises from coming out, whatever Aemond’s doing with his mouth beneath your skirts, you’re very much enjoying.

It’s not really the first time Aegon has seen the two of you in such a position, but never in a public place. Not that anyone but the two of you really visit this particular library.

Usually when Aegon watches, he watches from a distance. There is a balcony on a tower that if he stands at the right angle he can see in your room is his go to spot. Or, when he’s feeling desperate, he’ll hide in the tunnels of the Keep, standing outside the one leading to your room with his cock in his hand as he listens to your moans and pleas as Aemond fucks you harshly.

“Aemond,” Your voice is a breathy moan, it sounds like heaven.

Your hands rest at your sides, clenched tightly as your husband eats you as if you’re the last meal he’ll be allowed to have. Which Aegon can’t ever say it out loud, but he would do the same. He’s never been one for giving oral, but if he could live and breath between your thighs, he mouth would rarely leave your cunt.

Your moans have Aegon’s cock stirring to life beneath his pants as he watches. He doesn’t know how long Aemond has been committing the taste of you to his memory, nor how close you are to cumming, but if he had to guess you’re close.

Your body is tensing, hands gripping the edge of the bookshelf so tightly he wonders if it will break, moans getting louder and nose scrunching up. Chants of his brother’s name, Aemond, Aemond, Aemond leave your mouth is desperate, pitchy whines. Whole body shaking as his brother’s hand moves from your chest to take one of your own and intertwine your fingers.

The loving gesture has Aegon’s cock softening as he bites back a scoff. It’s easier for him to watch when Aemond has had a rough day, more interested in taking in the moment rather than giving. When Aemond is soft, it’s not as easy for him to remember who you are to him, who he is to his brother.

Your breathing evens out but your hand stays intertwined with his brothers, eyes still closed in the afterglow of your orgasm. Aegon decides to take his leave when he notices his brother moving under your skirt. He doesn’t want his mother to think any less of him than she already does; for not only lusting for is good sister, but for watching as his brother pleasures her.

He can always find you later, he supposes.

εїз

Aegon does find you later.

He finds you sitting in the Godswood, praying to the Old Gods just as you pray to the Seven in the Sept with Helaena.

“You pray to the Old Gods often, sister?” His voice startles you, a laugh slipping past his lips as you turn to him with wide eyes.

“Prince Aegon, you frightened me,” Your voice is as soft as it always is, steady as if not to show how much he actually frightened you moments before.

“Apologies, sweet sister,” He hums out, as he makes his way over to sit next to you in front of the weirwood tree, “I did not know your family had the faith of the Old Gods,”

You hum softly before glancing over at him, “During my time in Winterfell I became quite fond of their faith,”

Aegon feels his stomach turn sour at the mention of your time in Winterfell, when Cregan Stark had been the one your father had been leaning most towards for your betrothal, up until his grandsire and mother sent a letter offering Aemond’s hand.

“You spent a lot of time there?” He know how long you spent there, how fond you became of the North and the people, of Cregan. His brother spoke about the distaste he held for the Starks often after you had been moved here permanently as his.

“Hm, a little over a year, it was very different than Highgarden, and very different than here,” You trail off, talking highly of the North.

Aegon stops listening to your words, opting to watch the way your mouth moves as you speak. He doesn’t know what comes over him, maybe it’s the close proximity, or perhaps it’s the fact that it’s the first time you’ve actually been alone with him, he isn’t sure.

But one minute, your speaking and smiling, then the next, Aegon’s mouth is on your own. A gasp of pure shock escapes you, eyes wide in horror.

Your mouth is as soft as he imagined it would be, but you rip yourself away from him before he can truly savor the taste of you.

You look like you’ve been struck, eyes wide with tears lining them and mouth open in shock. Aegon’s throat tightens up at the look of betrayal on your face, “What have you done?”

His hands shake as he reaches for your own shaky ones, bile rising in his throat as you stand quickly and move to leave the area, more than likely to find your husband and tell him what his brother has done.

“Wait,” He rushes to follow you, “Wait! I’m sorry, fuck! I don’t know what came over me?”

His hand grabs your wrist, squeezing tightly as he turns you towards him, “I’m sorry. I don’t- Please don’t tell Aemond,”

You struggle to pull yourself away from him, causing his grip to tighten even more as he shoves you up against a nearby. You can feel it bruising, “Of course I am telling him! He is my husband, and you have dishonored me!”

He winces, “No, no I haven’t. I would never, you don’t understand. It was a mistake. I did not mean to,”

“You did not mean to? What was your intention then, Aegon?”

He sighs, frustration rising in him as he looks at you and your stupid, beautiful face, “I love you,”

Horror bleeds into your features, “No!”

A halfhearted laugh escapes him, “Indeed, my Lady,” he nudges his nose against your own, causing you to jerk away from him.

“Aegon-“

“Don’t say anything,” He whispers softly, mouth ghosting against your own, “Don’t ruin the moment.”

Tears fall down your cheeks as you look at the man before you. He’s smaller than his brother, but still bigger than you. And his nails are now digging into your wrist painfully, blood seeps through his fingertips.

You’ve heard the whispers, your own handmaidens doing their best to keep you from the older prince due to them. The whispers of how when he travels to the streets of silk, he requests women who look similar to you, or enough like you from behind. How your husband never allows you to be alone with his brother. You didn’t want to believe them, refused even.

You cannot ignore the words as they whirl around in your head now.

His face is in your neck, nose nudging at the junction of where your shoulder and neck meet as he inhales your scent and sighs.

“When I’m King, I could take you from him. I’ll get rid of him, rid myself of Helaena. Just you and me, sweet girl,”

Your ears are ringing, fear rushing through your veins as you begin struggling against him as sobs escape you, “Please let me go, Aegon. Please don’t hurt me,”

The fear that bleeds through your words cause him to rip away from you, as if your touch burned him. He looks as if he’s actually seeing you for the first time since he kissed you.

Your face is wet with tears and snot, hair slightly disheveled from the struggle, wrist bruised and bleeding from where he was gripping you. It shames his to watch you struggle to catch your breath, you are obviously struggling heavily with what he’s done, and his veins are on fire looking at you. He’s disgusted with himself as he feel his cock harden at your appearance.

“I’m, fuck, I’m sorry,” He’s sorry he hurt you, but he’s not sorry about much else. He knows your going to tell Aemond, and he won’t be lying when his brother comes to confront him. He may be a pig, but he can’t bring himself to dishonor you or imply you a liar.

He watches as your wipe your face, watching him wearily as you slowly leave, surly rushing to find a handmaiden to help you clean yourself up.

He decides to go to his room and wait for Aemond to visit him, or his mother. He supposed it’ll be whichever you run into first.

εїз

Aemond feels his blood boiling as he marches from your room to Aegon’s. Fury flooding his veins as he grinds his teeth together.

The state he found you in was heartbreaking, blood on your wrist still flowing as you cried and sobbed out what had happened before getting on your knees and clinging to him like a child, begging him to not be angry with you.

Anger was never an emotion Aemond felt like he could possess towards you. After all, you’re his sweet, sweet wife. He loves you.

Aegon, on the other hand, is a different story. He knows that no matter how bad he wants to, he can’t kill his brother. He wishes he could, but his mother would be furious if he did so.

He dismisses the guards as he walks into his brother’s room. Aegon stands, preparing himself for a fight immediately, only to be caught slightly by surprise as his brother gives him a once over and then starts laughing.

Aemond laughs, an actual humor filled laugh, “I’m sorry, truly, this is just so fucking funny,”

Aegon flushes, a deep red covering his face, “What?”

“Are you fucking stupid?” Aemond grits out through clenched teeth, “She is my fucking wife. My wife!”

Aegon loathes the tone in Aemond’s voice, the way he’s talking down to him as if he’s actually done something wrong, which he knows he has. But it’s not as if he raped you.

“I am painfully aware, brother-“

“No, you spoiled fucking cunt, I don’t think you are,” Aemond pushes him up against the wall harshly. “And, quite frankly, I don’t give a fuck if you are or not.”

Aegon rolls his eyes, “I know she is your fucking wife, Aemond.”

Aemond’s hand is on Aegon’s throat before the bitter sentence spits its way out of his mouth, squeezing in a threatening manner, but not tight enough to choke him fully. If Aegon hadn’t pissed him off, and if he couldn’t see the look in his brother’s eyes, Aegon could assume he was jesting.

“If I find you even breathing near her again, I’ll cut your fucking cock off and feed it to Vhagar. You dishonor our mother, you dishonor your wife, I will not allow you to even think about attempting to dishonor mine just because you’ve decided you want her,”

It’s not a time to pick at him, Aegon knows this, yet the words come out anyway, “And yet you fuck her anywhere you can get your hands on her, that is a bit dishonoring, do you not think? Hm, little brother?”

Aemond’s fingers squeeze at Aegon’s neck, “I will fuck my wife anywhere I please, brother, because I am her fucking husband.”

He rips his hand from Aegon’s neck when he starts turning slightly purple, “I pity you, Aegon.”

Aegon growls and considers lunging at him, “I don’t want your fucking pity,”

Aemond huffs out a laugh, “No, but you do want my fucking wife. And you cannot have her,”

A fit of rage fills Aegon as he watches his brother laugh at him, “When I become King, I could annule your marriage to her, and take her for myself,”

Aemond’s face is hard again, eye gleaming in a deep anger, “If you attempt to do anything of the sorts,  you will be disappointed when I turn to our older sister and back her claim,”

Aegon knows it was a low blow, and he truly never would annule your marriage to his brother. He wouldn’t want to have you against your will, despite what people say about him.

His head falls slightly, “I wanted her, at one point.”

He’s never admitted it out loud to anyone of importance, when you’d come to court with your father all those years ago, been kind to everyone you’d met, Aegon had been taken with you. A small similarity the two brothers shared despite their many differences.

He’d heard his father speak to his sister about how you’d be a good match for her son, a true Queen you’d be one day. He silently hoped his mother would try to take you from Rhaenyra and give you to him, and he’d been partially right.

His mother did fight for a marriage for her son, Aemond. While Aegon was stuck marrying his unhinged sister, his crippled brother would be given your hand if your father agreed.

Sometimes he wonders if he would have turned out different if he would’ve spoken up, but he knows he’ll never know. Aemond would probably kill you if it meant saving you from the horrors that you would most likely live if Aegon took you. His sexual appetite alone would never be satiated, Aegon knows Aemond would see it as doing you a favor.

“I know,” Aemond’s words surprise Aegon. “You know?”

“I’m not stupid. I see how you look at her, how the whores and servants you tend to ask for look like her. I know you watch when I take her,”

Aemond’s words should bring Aegon shame, but they don’t, “I am not sorry,”

It’s clearly stated, the clearest thing he’s said to Aemond in years, if they had been closer Aemond may have cared.

“And I am not sorry, either.” His hurt tone hurts Aegon’s heart, but it doesn’t hurt it more than knowing that he’ll have to watch you be with Aemond for the rest of his life. “She is my wife. You have a wife. If for whatever reason you are still unsatisfied, you have plenty of whores at your disposal, find one that looks enough like my wife to state you,”

Aemond closes his eye takes a deep breath, a look in his eye that Aegon does not recognize when Aemond looks back at him, “If you touch her again, if you draw blood from her body again or tears from her eyes, I’ll take your fucking head and gift it to her. I won’t see you near her again. I may not be able to kill you right now for harming her, but do not take this as me letting this go. You are lucky our mother loves you, because if she didn’t I would not let you live for what you’ve done. If it happens again-“

Aemond cuts himself off and shakes his head, giving his brother one final bitter look before storming out of his chambers.

As he watches Aemond walk away, Aegon’s bitter feeling molts into something deeper. His brother is right, he does have whores satiate him, plenty of them can look like you. He can shove their faces into whatever surface is near and pretend it’s you under him.

Aemond will ruin this for himself, Aegon knows it deep down, feels it in his bones. He knows Aemond is only possessive because he knows how unworthy he is of you; he’ll slip up somewhere. And when he does, when he does somehow ruin things with the pretty little rose from Highgarden in an unmendable way, and only then; Aegon will step in and show you a new form of undoubtful devotion.

Aegon will be King, a fact everyone but his cunt of a sister knows. But you? He’ll worship your body and fill you with his son before Aemond even knows what hit him. You’ll be the Queen.

[virgincels]

BOILING POINT !

ft. kishibe x fem!reader

tags. he puts his cigarette out on ur tits, degradation, public sex, a little voyeurism, idk he uses you as furniture, painal duh, reader is a dummy ngl, cockwarming

note. COMM FOR @d10nyx LOVE U NYX MWAH!!! love u sm sorry I didn’t get to post this for ur bday and that I took so fucking long but omg I hope u like it and i didn’t go too far with it :3 ignore any mistakes :3 feedback n rbs always appreciated .. praying this gets put in the tags :3

The thing is, Kishibe is fond of women. All women are beautiful unless they come in the form of carnivorous beasts. He likes a classic red lip, soft thighs, nylon stockings and heels. He likes Quanxi because she’s strong and it’s as simple as that. She wouldn’t go dying on him. Kishibe dislikes girls who play pretend. For example, the intern, a sad pillowcase of a girl who lacks savoir-faire. What a joke, and to place her in his division, under his care— It’s just offensive.

You put on an act, put on that ugly suit - it drapes over your form as if you’re more of a clothing hanger than a human. Shapeless and inelegant like you’ve gone and dug out your father's suit. The Public Safety uniform does you no justice, a skirt would be better. One that violates the dress code by an inch, but you slip past the radar ‘cause you’re so plain.

You’re of no use to Kishibe, he has no qualms saying it to your face. To your credit, you beg real pretty, beg like you’re begging for your life. That you’ll do anything. Anything, sir! Anything to keep down this shitty job!

Women are sluts when you force them to be sluts, but you don’t even need the slightest push. He knows your type. Show a girl like you a nice dick and you’re all over it. Not cut out for work, not cut out for anything exerting, not Public Safety of all things in this piece-of-shit world. You’d make a nice footstool, or better yet, an ashtray.

So he makes you exactly that.

Aki deposits a pile of paperwork onto his desk, didn’t have the courtesy to knock, just entered. Politeness is null and void it seems.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks flatly.

“New intern.” Kishibe makes an abstract gesture to where you’re standing at his side trembling and draped in only his trench coat. Organic coat rack. Cute, right? “Thought I’d make use of her.”

“You’re messed up,” Aki says, expression-wise he's indifferent.

He stubs his cigarette out on your tit. Look at that. Built-in ashtray. You whimper, of course you whimper, it hurts. Skin charing off in flakes, blistering in grotesque bubbles when he tosses the butt into your awaiting palms. His mark is indelible, one of searing discomfort that settles in the depths of your being, it crawls beneath your rattling bones to wear your skin.

“Huh, that’s funny, I must be hearing things.” Kishibe lights another, the flame glows yellow like tiger eyes. “Even the walls talk in this place.”

Aki’s delicate distaste is thinly veiled, a shudder courses through his frame, starting with the jerk of his head and ending with his clenched fists. He turns swiftly, the door thudding behind him, absence suspending the room in a momentary vacuum. The silence is profound.

“Friendly guy.” Kishibe’s getting too old, talking to coat stands. He’s not much of a chain smoker, but today he is. No particular reason. Just felt like it.

The ember is rounded and tiny, the flame licks at the edges of your consciousness until you see black. It’s a uniquely insidious pain, one that consumes your body in a sweeping inferno, the ache will linger - a testament to your time with Kishibe. Lucky you. By the fourth, the floodgates of restraint collapse, you could only hold on for so long. Your body surrenders to gravity, stumbling forward as you clutch at the sturdiness of his mahogany desk. Crumpled neatly like you’ve been put through a waste compactor.

Kishibe sighs. “What a shame.” His gaze is vacant as he gives you a once-over. “I should kick your teeth in for that.”

It’s as if the sparks from his cigarettes have gone to your head. The whites of your eyes barely visible as they widen like two shiny buttons, struck with a sudden clearheadedness.

“You can do that, sir.” It’s not an offer to accept or deny, but an open-handed invitation signed off with an RSVP that reeks of desperation.

“You’d like it too much.” His hand passes over the back of his rumpled jacket, it slips from your shoulders and falls with a muted thud. Truly, you’re useless. Nothing more, nothing less. There’s nothing less than useless.

“No, sir, I wouldn’t.” You shake your head so fast his vision blurs. Starts seeing double. The prospect of more than one you has him reeling. What a nightmare.

“No?” Kishibe cocks his head to the side. “I don’t think you could handle it.” He waves his hand dismissively as if you’re a cloud of smoke or a hallucination, a bad dream he’d like to get rid of.

“I could, I can, sir, please.” Your hands are clasped together in a prayer. “I can take it, promise.”

“Either way, I don’t think you deserve it.” He eyes the rawness of your burns, otherwise smooth skin raised in nasty bumps. You reach out to touch him, fingers outstretched as you trace the column of his neck. He doesn’t know what you’re so enamoured by. “Down, girl.”

“Sorry, sir.” You’re not sorry, chapped lips pressed together to hide a giddy smile.

The paperwork is set to the side, desk cleared as he sits you down. It’s not urgent, but then again, neither are you. Pussy is always a nice treat though. Kishibe thumbs the seam of your cunt and your puffy lips part. You sure know how to make a guy feel special. God, you’ve got him feeling like Moses down here. Parting the Red Sea or some shit. He’s clinical about it. Inspecting your pussy like he’s getting paid for this.

A pleased sigh is let out from above, your jaw slackens as he brushes over your swollen clit. “I like you, sir—“ you say between stuttered breaths, “I think y-you’re real— really handsome.”

That’s a new one. Grizzled and weathered and scarred. Nothing handsome about that. It doesn’t exactly bother him. It’s just objective. “Right.”

“It’s true.” You gasp when he flicks your clit, toes curling in your black socks. “And you smell nice.” Indecent fingers wriggle and curl around his wrist, trying to get him to dig deeper. “I want you in me.” Then as if clarity hits you, a feeble Please, sir.

He snorts. “Fat chance.” Kishibe draws his hand back, your slick webbed between his fingers.

“Why?” You whine, trembling at the loss of his touch. “Sir, I’ll be quiet, I won’t say a word, I promise.” Your voice is grating on him. “Pinky promise.”

“Stop that.” Kishibe wipes his fingers on your pout. “Looks stupid.”

“Just my face.” Your frown deepens.

“Well, you should fix your face, kid. Why don’t you try smiling.” A command, not a question. “Much better,” Kishibe hums, “keep smiling and you might get something out of me.”

(You really won’t. Kishibe just gets off on this. It’s kinda funny how willing you are to bend to his every need, not quite needs but wants.)

More cigarettes. Circular intrusions left on the flesh of your thighs, he’d like to put one out on your clit. You’d feel hot-white, see hot-white, taste hot-white. Might meet God. Or a devil as he cauterises your weeping cunt. Maybe he’s going to meet both the Genital Mutilation Devil and his timely end.

Lunchtime rolls around, he empties a flask of whiskey into his coffee to beat the sluggish midday heat. You’re tucked beneath his desk now, pressing your nose between his thighs, sniffing around like a police dog on the right track. Kishibe lets you because it’s not much of a bother. “Might as well put that mouth to work.”

“Really, sir?” You ask, eyes like twin beacons.

“Yeah, go on then.” He pats your head. “No hands,” Kishibe adds, and they drop to your side instantly, teeth clasping onto his zipper and tugging it downwards in a jagged procession.

This is the most lackadaisical approach to cocksucking Kishibe has ever seen. And trust him, he has thirty-odd years of experience— This takes the cake for the worst. What you lack in technique you do not make up for in enthusiasm. It might just be ‘cause he’s soft, his mind detaches from the notion of anything inherently sexual. He’s thinking about what he should have for dinner tonight. If there’s anything in the fridge. That fat cat he has to feed.

There’s gagging, spluttering, a lewd pop! A sad and sorry end to a sloppy blowjob. You cough. A wet rattle deep in your chest.

“Not your strong suit,” he muses.

“I need your help, sir.” Your lips are swollen, spit-slicked. “Can’t do it on my own.” It begs the question, what are you good at? What can you do on your own?

He sighs for the nth time, takes his shaft in his hand and guides it past your parted lips, a messy ordeal, teeth scraping over the velvety skin of his cock, spit pooling in your mouth and dribbling down your chin when his cock rests weighty on your tongue.

It’s big, your cheek bulges when the tip nudges the inside of your mouth. Kishibe shifts course, pushes his cock so deep it hits the back of your throat, and your nails ziiip against the leather of his office chair.

“Is that too much?” He asks, making no move to ease up on the windpipe abuse. Your lips have stretched so far the corners of your mouth might split, you let out a noise of discomfort. Kishibe pays it no mind, his dick only gets heavier the moment it begins to harden. He places a hand on the back of your head, forces you to take his cock right to the base by pinning you into place. You swallow around him, and it’s the only good thing you’ve done since you got here.

There’s the garbled complaint of your jaw aching. “I don’t know what you’re saying,” Kishibe tells you, the derisive curl of his lip draws a soft whine from the back of your shredded throat. On his terms, you’ll last until the end of the workday. That’s what you’re here for, right? A job. He’s given you one and you’re not even doing it well. Sucking dick is second nature to women. Evidently not you.

You last till the end of his shift— Barely. Hanging on by a thread. Most of your lipstick has rubbed off on his dick, splotches of red deep in the creases of your dry lips. The fatigue of being cramped beneath his desk for so long weighs your body down, languidly shrugging on your jacket, your white shirt gaps when you button it up. He hadn’t noticed that before, but he does now.

“I’ll be better tomorrow,” you promise.

“Alright,” he says, noncommittal.

“Not tomorrow— I’m not in tomorrow actually so on Wednesday. I’ll be better on Wednesday.” You take hold of his arm and for some reason, he lets you. Human connection is not something he values especially, but sometimes it’s nice.

“Sure.” Kishibe shrugs. “I’ll hold you to your word.”

The commute to and from work is endless. This time it’s particularly endless, the outside world blurring into monochromatic plains as the train follows its usual path.

Sometimes you wish for it to derail and throw your body into the atmosphere. Just for fun. Anything to break up the mundanity of slate-coloured metropolitan life.

The confined space in the carriage has Kishibe’s front curved into your back, his hands in his pockets. An attempt at small talk fails to bridge the gap between the two of you. He’s so disinterested. Aren’t old men meant to like young girls? Are you really that ordinary? That even men one orgasm away from a heart attack are totally unbothered by the swell of your ass pressing up against their clothed dicks? Like, um, hello!

“You’re pushing it, you know that?” His breath is hot on your skin, he’s tall enough to obscure you from the view of any onlookers as you grip the metal pole. A few briefcases click shut, patent leather dress shoes scuffing across the flat floors as the train nears the next station.

Empty seats outnumber occupants by this point, there’s no need for Kishibe to be so close, but he is and that makes you happy. Makes your pussy happy too. Throbs like crazy. If you’re going to work alongside him, you’ll need to bring a change of panties in your handbag. ‘Cause you’ve been wet since he first entered the room.

He’s more rugged than handsome, but that’s what makes him hot. You see the start of a pretty face under the thickness of his worn and torn skin, it’s undercut by his square jaw, the skin under his eyes seems to burrow back into his face with how deep those bags are. God, you need him. Stat. Now if you don’t mind, sir.

When you exit, you don’t expect to hear heavy footfall right behind you. For a moment you think it’s the echo of your shoes in the derelict station, it’s like a gaping cavern, but you’re light on your feet - learnt to make yourself scarce.

Taking a peek over your shoulder would ruin the surprise. If it’s not Kishibe you might throw a fit. Unless whoever’s following you is, like, Kimura Takuya. You wouldn’t mind that at all. What a dreamboat. Still, there’s not even a 0.001% chance it’s him (you don’t exactly remember seeing him on the commute). There is a 99.99% chance it’s Kishibe. So you’ll go with the latter.

You duck into a nearby alleyway and he does too. Well, it’s an assumed he. If it’s a she you hope it’s the busty chick with the eyepatch that made eyes at you in the hallway as you tried to match Miss Makima’s brisk pace.

“I told you not to push it.” It’s Kishibe.

Yay! You internally cheer as he pushes you into the crumbling brick wall, your handbag drops onto the ground as your fist unfurls. Palms flat on the burnt clay, your breath hitches when he makes quick work of your pants, thick fingers forcing their way beneath the tight waistband. They’re perfectly fitted so there’s not even an inch of space, no room for lunch when you’re wearing these. The button pops and you mourn the loss of your nicest piece of clothing. Nothing a big dick can’t fix.

(Dick can’t fix the pants though. Duh.)

“I should teach you how to keep your hands to yourself,” Kishibe says lowly. His apathy is unfortunately really fucking hot. And it has to be front. It has to be. Or he wouldn’t have gone through the effort of disrupting his usual route home. You must’ve gotten him hot and bothered. His dick is hard. So there’s that.

He spits on your ass, it trickles down your crack and does a shitty job at lubing anything up. Your pussy is so wet you could take two or three dicks with ease. Kishibe doesn’t have to waste precious, precious spit that should be dripped down your throat like ambrosia. He spreads you wide, big hands grabbing handfuls of your soft ass. When you close your eyes, you see his cock, it’s tattooed on your eyelids. Seriously. His shit is big, and you wouldn’t expect anything less from a man of his size. The tip is dark, uncut on the fat, his balls hang low— Oh, he’s putting it in your ass, you realise a moment too late.

Suppressing a soft cry, your head drops forward as the pain splinters through your body with each agonising inch of his fat cock in your tighter hole. “Daddy,” you whimper, nails fighting to stay on your nail beds as you scratch at the wall.

“Don’t call me that,” Kishibe says, and his dick gives one last punishing push as he sinks into you fully.

“Sorry, sir.” Your sniffling is cut short by him shoving his fingers into your warm mouth. His dick is mean. You’re all like uh, uh, unfff, uh! You sound pretty fucking stupid, but he is practically punching all those noises out of you. It feels nice to be split in half. When you ignore the sickening spark of raw pain in your gut that is. He’s whisking your guts into a mixture of acid and bloody chunks.

Kishibe’s fairly quiet, the occasional grunt when he draws his hips back so the tip is in your fluttering hole, only to slam back in and knock you forward ‘cause you’re a klutz and dick in your dry ass is sorta disorientating.

“I love it, sir,” you tell him anyway. You’ve always been a bit of a bootlicker. Relying on flattery to get you into people's good books. It’s worked up until now. Kishibe is a nut you can’t even crack with a nutcracker, or a paring knife, not even with a goddamn hammer. “I love it so much, I love—“ His fingers run over your gums, pulling on your tongue for only a second before he takes them out to wipe on the back of your white blouse.

When he cums, you smell the whiskey on his breath as he rests his head on your shoulder. “Thank you, sir, thank you so much—“ You turn your head in search of his lips, he taps your cheek sharply and zips his slacks up in typical Kishibe fashion. Unhurried, slow, doesn’t really care about being caught with his pants down. A cigarette is lit, the glow of the ember reflects in his charcoal eyes like liquid gold.

Put that out on my clit, sir. Obviously, you don’t say that in fear of your clit never ever working again, and you quite like your clit to be honest. She’s gotten you through a lot of stressful situations. 

His load has started to leak out of you, drying on your skin. Thick and sticky and heavy like his dick. Your cunt still throbs when you hold your ruined pants in place, they’ll be slipping down for the remainder of the walk home. Kishibe didn’t let you cum. He hasn’t let you cum all day. How selfish. You’ll rub one out when you get to your place. Christ, you think you love him.

[mako-neexu]

"surely this time i will be normal for one day"

[suddenly remembers prison tower is supposed to end you bc goetia planned it but dantes took on the role of being your abbe faria and became your tiny light of hope in this prison of despair because he himself knows better than anyone how it feels to be an innocent soul, to be dragged and trapped in a life of despair, betrayal, and be casted away in a hell where madmen dont come out alive and so saves you by killing him, "the one who escaped the chateau d'lf", he's also summoned initially as a tool to kill you but dantes, initially being just a shadow, made ogawa heim because 'fuck u goetia' and caught feelings seeing guda's iron determination so fought alongside them and against the one who gave him a demon worm in his head. and just as he became your tiny light of hope in prison tower, you get to see him casually admit guda is his "destiny" and saw them as someone who is "radiant" after going through everything with them…like you know, a star. thats why both his np refer to guda in the new saint graph. because a star burns brighter than flames, more dazzlingly than fire that he himself is in awe of you and made a new alt solely because of you, inspired by you, even as he hurt himself by creating a new spirit origin, because his wish is solely for you to see the end of your journey and reach antarctica, because guda is a person -is a living human - who wants to see tomorrow and thus he split himself into two- or rather assigned himself and his other self in the singularity "count of determination (to bring about the 7 tribulations)" and as the "count of regret (you, his worry, who has to go through this harsh journey)". count of determination is the one who enacted the trials, because he is the spirit origin who is a ruthless murderer from his revenge story and thus must make sure guda goes through the merciless trials to go forward, yet count of regret is still worried all the same for guda considering the dangers of creating this world and with cagliostro around and other unpredictable variables, and in this ongoing journey thats why "black shadow" count is still on the look out for you. and in these trials he is both your ally and enemy that you must overcome because he wants!! you!! to move forward!!! even as you face your most trusted betray you, overcoming despair and hatred even as you drown in hopelessness seeing those you love die, overcoming his flames and as he extends a hand out and tempt you into a life where where you are a god of revenge, reaching an end that you hope for- a tomorrow that you want. (because we dont know what happened to the "real" dantes whereas dumas' version wrote that love extinguished his flames, and so left france behind with haydee. a fictional happy end that most likely didnt apply to the real dantes given his attitude to dumas and his version of the story since they never interacted again beyond dumas talking about writing his tale. )

an end that also isnt part of the famous Avenger, Count of Monte Cristo summoned to the grand order, only the popular interpretation/parts that people remember the most engraved in his spirit origin. and for him, this avenger, this part of his life where he is at his lowest who became your tiny light of hope in that prison tower, despite burning with eternal hatred chose love time and time again, save you, help you time and time again, because he doesnt want you to end up like him. one who has lost all things precious to you and so turning into a life of vengeance and blood, burning everything to cinders until you as well consume yourself, losing yourself in the process, becoming an empty shell, quietly dying as emptiness and quietness takeover the aftermath of those flames. you, as radiant as a star, don't deserve that kind of fate. you, his accomplice, his co-conspirator should never succumb to or have that kind of fate where only hate, sorrow and despair awaits you at the end nor does he want your journey to be at a standstill, idle, where you are helpless the more this story- this journey drags on and unable to move forward because of forces beyond your control.]

[through my teeth/clenches my fists] "oh. okay. so we're doing this now. okay."