#Hidden wedge

[thedupshadove]

The credit Vex gets for Percy not going fully off the deep end during the Briarwood arc is well-deserved, but I'm also pretty sure things would have been notably different if Cassandra hadn't turned out to be alive.

[nerdie-faerie]

Was tryna say goodbye to my siblings before going back to uni but I couldn't find my littlest brother - who has a tendency to put himself in weird places then fall asleep - turns out this time he'd folded himself into the futon and fallen asleep

[high-fructose-jay-syrup]

work things

[amberautumnfaebrooke]

i think i could design a better death arena for children than those hunger games amateurs.

the whole premise of the games is all pageantry. every year you get a crop of 24 candidates around whom the entire state media apparatus dedicates an entire year to building celebrity narratives. this candidate is the younger sibling of last year's winner - these candidates are young lovers forced to compete - he's smart - she's fast - root for them, care about them, watch them, form opinions on them, bet on them. and then they stick them all in an arena to kill each other, which is a great entertainment premise, except that they make the arenas themselves really boring and generic. ooo, they're in...a forest.

it's not even an interestingly designed forest. imagine if the game designers treated their arena like an actual video game designer treats level design. discrete zones with multiple paths between each room, creative use of lighting to guide players to points of interest, points of interest scattered across the map, discoverable resources hidden to encourage exploration. instead they just have a generic outdoors location and if you get too close to the edge they throw a random fireball at you.

the 75th games are especially bad about this. the arena is laid out radially into 12 wedges, and each hour one wedge becomes especially dangerous in a 12-hour loop. as a mechanic, this is genius. it forces everyone to keep moving, making "survival by hiding" an engaging and tense viewing experience instead of someone sitting in a tree for three days. plus, it encourages players to return to the center of the arena, where travel time between wedges is short, which creates a high-value zone for players to regularly return to and conflict over. in other words, it's a mechanic which incentives players to adopt dramatic, dynamic, exciting behaviors which are entertaining to watch (not to mention it communicates geography to the audience well). but it only incentives those behaviors if the players understand what's happening, and they go out of their way not to tell the players anything! when they figure out what's going on, the showrunners spin the arena to disorient the players, like they're intentionally trying to get them to just. randomly wander the jungle instead.

this isn't even to mention how often they create undramatic, boring deaths. they plant poison berries around the arena. they supply no fresh water and no way to get it. they roll poison clouds over sleeping victims. these happen to work out in the books themselves but you have to imagine that extremely often these just result in players dying unexciting deaths.

the cardinal sin though, of course, is that nothing is done to personalize the arena for the crop of contestants that year. if i'm designing the 75th hunger games and two of my most beloved contestants famously had to cancel their wedding because of a return to the games, i would OBVIOUSLY give them a trail of, i don't know, wild game which conveniently leads directly past a well defended wedding chapel. will they hole up there for a while? hold a mock ceremony for themselves? do or receive ironic violence here? stare wistfully and move on? any of it is better television than getting attacked by generic attack monkeys. you should have a dozen of these things on the map for every single candidate. but the game makers are more interested in doing the same thing every other game has done than in telling a compelling story.

it makes me second guess enjoying the children's murder arenas at all.

[twinksrepository]

An afternoon at the Lost Oasis

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Sylus X F!Reader

CW: Smut, smut with Feelings, flirting, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Neck Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm, Hair-pulling, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Big dick, tender Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Finger Sucking, Overstimulation, Creampie

Word count: Roughly 7K

A/N: After a day of letting you use him for lessons as a pretend wander and then using all the water for your shower. Sylus has enough of your teasing, and the man finds he isn't ready to just let you sit back and relax. Deciding it might be time him to be the teacher and giving you a lesson himself.

I needed to write this after that scene in the five star card. Good lord this man is spicy and fine...

Perfer AO3? You can read it here

You gasp as Sylus adjusts the way his arm is curled around you, shifting your legs so he can hold you closer to him with one arm. Forcing you to wrap your hands around his neck to keep your balance, causing him to chuckle as he strides away from the shower. “Sylus!” The fabric of your satin nighty that he had provided is even wetter now, the edge riding higher on your thighs. Feeling the dampness of his skin starting to seep into the material between your butt making you shiver in his hold. 

“I told you the soundproofing here isn’t great.” He still had that edge to his tone just like he did a moment ago. “Or is class in fact over, Miss?” It’s like whiplash how quickly his tone changed back to teasing. He’s so mercurial sometimes, yet the longer you know him the more charming you find it. It also doesn’t help that in the new position his head is just above your breasts, his breath washing over the barely covered skin that has you swallowing while your core clenches. 

You don’t miss the way his fingers squeeze the meat of your thigh through the damp fabric as he walks. “If you mean a class on how to be humble it’s far from over.” Two can play at his game of teasing, and you’re choosing to ignore the fact you might have started it when you were wiping the remaining soap suds from his chest. Dragging your palm down his chest towards the center of his pectorals with just enough pressure to make him wince and make that same groan that makes your belly warm. 

“I had a different lesson in mind.” Pushing a door at the end of the hallway open, you find yourself involuntarily swallowing at the husk lacing his words. It certainly doesn’t have the same opulence you’re used to associating with the leader of Onychinus, but given the location you shouldn’t have expected him to have an entire two floors like he does for most hotels he stays at. Except you don’t get much time to look around from your place held in the air. 

Gasping as you drop from your elevated perch before you’re wedged between the door at your back and Sylus at your front, an adjustment on his part with your legs now on either side of him instead of one side. He has you positioned so you’re level with him and your eyes locked onto one another's. You see the sheer adoration hidden behind that smolder in his crimson orbs, the fingers of his hand trailing along your side and gently dragging the hem of your nighty higher. “What happened Sweetie, cat get your tongue?” 

He’s back to teasing you, leaning closer and ghosting his lips along the edge of your cheekbone until his mouth is right next to your ear. Drops of the water still clinging to his hair fall onto your shoulder causing you to shiver as you try to gather your scattered thoughts to retort. Hard to do when he’s making sure you can hear how ragged his breathing is and the way the moist air seems to envelop your skin.  

“What kind of lesson?” The sureness of your voice from earlier is gone, replaced by a hint of trepidation. At least you’ve gotten better at figuring out when you might have gotten in over your head with Sylus. 

“The kind where a certain kitten learns playing with her claws out has consequences.” Trailing his lips along the shell of your ear before he starts to mouth at the side of your neck. His hips are keeping you in place so his hands can delicately dance upward along your side, teasing your skin in a way that adds to the shivering of your frame in his hold. There’s no doubting how turned on he is, the towel around his hips doing a poor job hiding how hard he is. Well and the fact you can feel the heat from it against your inner thigh. “Like finding out the corvid she thought was tame is, at its core.” Dragging his teeth along the tendon of your neck. “A creature of the wild.” 

“I haven’t been teasing you tha-” Gasping your hands fly to the back of his head and tangle in those damp grey hairs that you had been trying to avoid. His teeth nipping against the pulse point in your neck, forcing the crown of your head to hit the panel of the door you’re held against. Sucking on the area and you can’t hide the moan that slips past your lips, your fingers digging more into the back of his skull unsure if you want to force him to remain in place or push him away. 

Your heart hammering away inside of your chest, the tempo steadily increasing as he sucks harder as if he wants to leave a visible mark that will last for days. A reminder for you that you belong to him, and a warning to others with how vivid the color of your bruise is going to be. A soft noise of contentment that seems out of place as the pressure against your neck decreases, only for you to hiss in pain as his teeth sink into your skin just below your pulse. “Sylus!” Screaming his name as your brain scrambles to figure out what your body wants you to do. 

Sliding his palm across your lips to silence you, his tongue licking over the abused area in soothing passes. “This room is better than the bathroom, but the soundproofing still isn’t all that great.” Tilting his head back so you can look you in the eye once more. “So try not to scream too loudly, Sweetie.” Shifting his hand you glare at him, sticking your tongue out to lick his palm and his fingers as they pass your parted lips. Shaking his head at your action and forcing two of his long digits into your mouth and placing gentle pressure on your tongue. “You’re not doing a good job denying my allegations of teasing too much when you do something like that.” Raising an eyebrow at you before he smirks. “But if you want to use that mouth of yours I can put it to use.” Rolling his hips in a way that you feel his length press harder into your thigh, at the same time his other hand ghosts to your chest and gives one of your breasts a squeeze through the thin red fabric. 

Fine. Narrowing your eyes at him you close your lips and suck around his fingers, finally disentangling your hands from his hair. It’s your turn to do a bit more teasing, letting the tips of your fingers of one hand glide across his cheek and down to the side of his neck. Tracing the tendon as if in a caress, the pressure so much lighter than earlier as your other hand wraps around his wrist. Using it to keep his hand in place as you move your head as if you’re sucking on his cock instead of those long digits. Undulating your tongue along the rough skin as you moan, catching his eyes and sending him your best attempt at a sultry glance with your lids lowered so you see him through your lashes. 

He sucks in a breath in time to the involuntary snap of his hips, a brief chuckle from him that has your insides warming. Trying to roll your hips as well but it doesn’t work because of the angle of your body being held in place against the door by his. “Still teasing I se-” You don’t let him say more, your hand that had been tracing the edge of his collarbone switches from the tender sweep to dragging against his skin. Your fingers move downward over one of his pectorals with enough force to leave a wake of pale skin before the color returns. Hearing that lovely hiss as he inhales through his teeth with his eyes slamming shut. Like early you let your touch grow gentle again closer to the center, using the other hand to tug his wrist away from your mouth. A loud wet pop as his fingers slide past your lips, slick with your spit and a few strands still connecting those lovely digits to your bottom lip. 

“I can’t help myself, you’re just so responsive to my touch.” Your voice has that breathless rasp to it, raising your hand to rest against his neck once more. “I like knowing I can affect you like how you affect me.” You already know you’re in trouble from all your teasing earlier, a little honey lacing your words might save you from being edged several times by the handsome man. 

“ Never.” Placing your hand on his shoulder after nipping the skin of your thumb, that single word makes your face flush and you can feel a dampness forming inside your core. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you during your lesson. ” Trailing his hand down your side to the hem of your nighty and slipping it beneath the fabric and back up your thigh to brush his thumb along the soft skin near the edge of your sex hidden by your underwear. 

The walls of your core clamp down at the soft touch, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you breathe in through your nose to try and slow the hammering of your heart. Moaning when the tip of his finger slips under the band of your underwear, that crimson gaze on his on yours as his face leans closer. “Don’t bite your lip Sweetie.” That deep rumble has you parting your lips, anticipating the incoming connection as your eyelids flicker before closing. The moisture from his breath washes against your face as that lone finger moves closer to your folds. 

Only for both of you to freeze hearing movement beyond the door. Straining your ears to try and pin point the direction it was coming from, it sounds to you like it’s someone walking down to the other end of the hallway. Shuffling along as if they’re carrying something. 

Flicking your eyes back up to Sylus who’s sporting the softest of frowns at the door you find your lips moving, offering an apology without making another noise. The frown on his face was replaced by him raising one of his eyebrows and the corners of his lips tilting to form a devilish smirk. 

Tilting his head and placing a gentle kiss to the inside of your forearm before lifting his hand away from your breast to signal for you to be silent with his finger against his lips. The confusion is visible on your face as you don’t know how you can be any more silent than you already are. Unless he means the pounding of your heart, but that might also just be in your head. 

Still smirking at you, you gasp quickly bringing one of your hands to stifle the noise as he shakes with the force of his silent chuckle. Giving the finger now just past the opening of your entrance a curl, brushing against your damp walls. 

You’re torn between being mad and turning into a puddle. Squeezing his shoulder to let him know you’re not exactly happy with him at the moment. He’s unfazed, which you should have expected. Slipping his finger farther into your slick channel until you feel his knuckle brush your entrance, starting to curl and swirl the lone digit in a way that has you moaning behind your hand. Sylus doesn’t stop, but you’re trying to strain your ears again searching for any indication that the two of you are going to be found out. All you can hear is the haggard breathing that rattles out of him like he wants to do far more than just finger you against the door. 

Arching your back slightly when he adds a second finger, working so the two digits are moving independently of the other. When one curls forward the other shifts back, stretching your walls and tapping the rough tip against any area that has your body involuntary squirming against him. You’re nowhere near your limit but his actions have the ember of arousal in your stomach burning hotter and hotter. As if the added edge of being heard and the potential of being interrupted is adding to the way your body is responding to him. Another soft moan escapes you when one of his fingers hits a spot that has you clenching around him hard enough that he hisses in what you hope is pleasure.

Leaning his head against the side of yours so he can whisper in a voice that sounds like a promise of unimagine pleasure and wrapped in sex that you barely hear. “I want to hear you Sweetie, the way you respond to my touch, my fingers pushing you to the edge.” His lips close enough to your ear that the movement of his lips as he articulates his thoughts tickles the hard inner fold. “But, I want those noises just for myself. I don’t want a single other person to hear how you mewl and pant for me, because of me.” Adding a third finger that has a prickle of tears at the edge of your vision as you bite your tongue to keep yourself from howling at how good he feels. “What a conundrum I find myself in.” 

Pumping his fingers faster now inside of your walls, the sound of squelching seems impossibly loud with the moisture from your pussy coating his fingers. It’s obscene and yet has you even more turned on, the panting and low groans from Sylus right next to your ear like music. The soft gyrations of his hips another indication of how much he’s enjoying the moment, the fabric of the towel has shifted enough you can feel the heat from the head of his cock as it rubs into your thigh leaving a mess of fluid along the skin. 

“Move your hand.” A low command and you shake your head in the negative. He told you to be quiet and there’s no way you can be with what he’s doing to you. “Sweetie.” With the way he says that one word you have no choice but to listen to him, sliding your hand away from your mouth with trepidation. 

His fingers still in your walls, all three are knuckle deep and you take in a deep breath that has your chest expanding to fill the tiny space separating both of your bodies. “Sylus?” It takes effort just to get his name out, like a whisper of a prayer. Maybe it is, a prayer to have him push you over the edge, a prayer to feel his lips along your skin in a way that makes you feel cherished. 

“Not so loud Sweetie.” Trailing the tip of his nose along the shell of your ear before sliding his face closer, his nose pressing along the ridge of your cheekbone a trail of goosebumps following in its wake. “Unless you want to get caught?” Able to see his eyes beneath the mirth shining in those crimson orbs you can see a hint of his adoration. Remember the first time he told you after dragging you to a fight with a gangster how there was no love purer than his. 

“Maybe.” It’s your turn to smirk at him, the smile reaching your eyes as his chest vibrates with another silent laugh. Choosing that moment to slowly remove his fingers from your cunt before slamming them back in with force. You don’t get the chance to scream as his lips slot over yours, swallowing any noises you make in surprise. 

You give up all pretense of being upset with him for all the teasing, you did give it your best attempt at keeping up with his actions. Yet as his tongue sweeps across the inside of your mouth and his fingers pump into you like a machine you’re content to just relax against the wall. Guiding your hands to the back of his neck and up into his hair while he swirls the wet muscle against your own. Playfully flicking the tip to get you to engage with him in a different type of dance. 

His wrist is moving faster, those long digits fluttering along your slick walls that are squeezing around him as if trying to drag them deeper into your cunt. A line of fire starting to race along your spine while your toes curl.

Dragging the edge of your fingernails from the top of his scalp down to the back of his neck, as you coil your tongue with his. Hearing him groan into your mouth has you humming yourself in both satisfaction and pleasure. Your asscheeks clenching as your hips try to roll to chase his fingers, you’re close now. Ready to fall off that edge. 

Sylus is well aware of how close you are if the amount of your slick running down his fingers and wrist is anything to go by. The fluid trailing down his arm in a steady stream before dripping onto his thigh. He wants you, wants to slam his cock into the deepest part of you while you’re against the door and feel you squeeze him. Except that isn’t an option right now. As meticulous as he is with his planning and considerations, he made a small mistake. 

He’d forgotten the condoms. Well forgotten implied he didn’t think about them when the object had crossed his mind. No. He thought that this time he’d indulge in just bringing you pleasure, of making you squirm from his fingers, to twist under the confines of his arms holding you in place while he used his mouth to make you cum over and over again while he drank down your release like a fine wine. To enjoy you like an oasis and him a man that hadn’t seen water in weeks.

He should have known better. You were his weakness and in this moment you were making his resolve to pamper you while denying himself the feeling of being wrapped in your tight heat crumble. The soft roll of your hips following his fingers, the way your hands carded through his hair tugging the strands just enough to make him aware. The dragging of your nails along his scalp had his hips shuddering like he was some teenager getting off for the first time, and your noises. 

Damn, those noises. From the wet squelching of your cunt to those soft little moans and whimpers that were just loud enough for him to hear. He needed you to cum on his fingers. 

Now. 

Now while his mouth is attached to yours, to swallow down your call of his name while you cum. He knew the scream would be loud enough to have someone coming to investigate, assuming there was a danger of some kind. Pumping his fingers faster while pushing his upper body more into yours, sliding his free hand above your head trying to make the space even smaller. As if to make it so you’re both occupying the same space. 

Your fingers start to dig into the meat of his shoulders as he leans more into you, you’re almost there as his fingers pump you faster, the thundering of your heart pounding in your ear as your lungs start to burn. It takes all of your brain cells to still your body and breathe in as deeply as you can through your nose. 

That moment of stillness is what does you in, like you’re hyper aware of the rough tips of his fingers brushing against a cluster of nerves along your walls, of the faint taste of wine on his tongue that you don’t remember seeing him drink. 

Slumping against his body while your hands loosen on his neck, sliding down against the door a small amount so your waist is more in line with his as the liquid pours down your legs and puddles under your feet. 

Pulling his fingers from your quivering core Sylus grins, watching you breathe through your mouth with your eyes closed as he leans back. Raising his hand to see the amount of slick coating his long digits. Smirking as he waited for you to come back to your senses for what he planned to do next. 

You feel like you’re floating with the haze running through your mind from your post orgasm high. The muscles of your body are lax as you take in a long inhale before slowly opening your eyes and sending a soft smirk toward Sylus. You’re sure you look like a love sick fool, but it’s just the two of you here right now and doubt he’d care. If anything he’d take pride at the slack jawed look you’re sporting. Lifting a hand and watching it as if in slow motion before resting it against the side of his neck again. “Was I a good student?”

Sylus chuckles, raising his hand you notice the fluid coating his fingers. Watching him stick out his tongue and lick the inside of his hand from the base of his forefinger to the tip. Humming as the wet muscle slips back inside his mouth. “You mean so far?” Closing his eyes as he shakes his head as if in disbelief his voice still low like he’s worried about being overheard and you remember his comments about how this room didn’t have the best soundproofing either. “I suppose so.” Flashing you a smile that makes your core flutter as the flicker of arousal starts to build in your body again. “Though, we’re far from finished Kitten.” 

Tapping his other two fingers against your bottom lip and smearing some of your release along the puffy skin. “Time for the next part.” A playful whisper to his words and you understand his meaning, parting your lips and shifting your head forward to wrap them around his fingers. The tip of your tongue slips along the edges of his fingers as the taste of yourself floods your senses. “Still a quick study I see.” That deep rasp tells you how as much as Sylus looks unaffected, even as his skin has that flush that he gains when he’s been working out for a while, he’s barely holding himself together right now. 

It just makes you suck all the harder, curling your tongue before flattening it as if scooping every drop off his digits. Humming as you swallow the last of your release from his fingers, at some point you had closed your eyes, slowly opening them to peer up at his face through your lashes. Making a show of pulling your head back so his fingers fall from your mouth with a pop. “I do my best to impress.” Licking your top lip before smirking at him, feeling like you want to try and push his buttons. “Was that it?” A breathy exhale accompanying your words, letting the tip of your tongue poke out of the corner of your lip.

“You say it like you’re not impressed.” Sliding his hands down your sides and giving your hips the slightest of squeezes, hoisting you into the air once more. “I still have another trick up my sleeve for my favorite student Sweetie.” Striding towards the bed that’s against the wall and thankfully far from the door. Flashing you a smile that makes you wonder if you’re floating in a dream after that orgasm or awake. 

At least until he drops you on the bed with no amount of decorum. “Sylus!” At least you remember his words from earlier as you hiss at him with your voice low. “Why are you always dropping me on the damn bed!” 

“A good hunter should expect the unexpected.” Kneeling on the edge of the bed he motions for you to move backwards so you're more in the center of the mattress. Sliding back on your elbows you let your eyes wander down to the towel still wrapped around his waist, hiding his length from view. 

“Well I expect my boyfriend not to throw me around like a rag doll.” Pouting up and him as he shuffles more of his body onto the firm surface. 

“I'll keep that in mind, Sweetie.” Tilting his head so those gray bangs fall across his forehead and briefly hide his eyes. “Now.” Dropping his voice as he lowers himself down with his arms beside the edges of your stomach. “Spread your legs, I want a taste.” His voice is sinfully low and you feel a twinge in your belly as it tightens in response along with your core. 

“What about you?” You're not against him eating you out, more than once now he’s left you an incoherent mess with his tongue curled inside your slick walls. It can do a lot more than just sweet talk you and talk his way out of situations when he doesn’t blast his way out. 

Shaking his head just enough to make his bangs shift once more. “It's not about me right now, I want you to relax. I've missed you these past few weeks.” Sporting a smile as he says it that makes you sink more into the mattress, except you aren’t sure how you feel about his answer.

Pushing yourself up as best as you can using your elbows feeling the press of his arms against your stomach keeping you in place. “Sylus.” It’s awkward as you reach out to run your hand along his cheek, trying to remain upright with one hand. “I’ve missed you too.” Brushing the tips of your fingers along his skin while focusing on his crimson orbs. “I wanna feel you, all of you. Please Sylus, don’t make it about me.” You have missed him and as much as you like the idea of just letting him pamper you right now, you’d rather have both of you enjoying your time together.

Letting out a long exhale Sylus drops his head against the skin of your thigh, his eyes flicking from yours to his hands along your stomach rubbing the thin fabric serving as a flimsy barrier. One of his cheeks is pressed against your skin, distorting his face as he pouts before opening his mouth. “I don’t have any condoms here.” It comes out so flat and low you aren’t sure you heard him correctly at first. 

Furrowing your brow as you blink, trying to understand the problem. “Why does that matter?” The confusion you feel lacing your words as you watch him blink at you in surprise. “I mean I’ve been on birth control for a while.” A thought crossing your mind that you find tumbling from your lips before you can think about it. “Unless you’re seeing someone else.” That has your heart beating painfully in your chest, with all his sweet words and tender actions you don’t like the idea of him dating more than just you. 

“Did you really just ask me that?” Lifting his face away from your thigh and using his arms to slide up your body until he’s towering over you not truly giving you the chance to answer him. “I thought by now, you’d understand I adore you.” Letting his weight settle onto your body his face in line with yours. “There is and never will be, anyone else.” Every time he says something like that it makes your heart race, from the way his voice carries no hint of hesitation and the steady cadence as if he’s stating a simple fact. 

“Sylus.” Your voice sounds soft, even to your own ears as you slide your hands along his shoulder. A hint to get him to move closer so you can kiss him properly. Unlike all the others so far it’s soft and tender, a reminder that his words are true and you love him all the more for it. “Please Sylus, I wanna feel you.” 

Humming as he runs his nose along the side of yours, opening his eyes slowly and you see the burning desire deep in those crimson orbs. “It certainly isn’t what I planned, but you’re hard to deny when you ask me like that Sweetie.” Rolling his back to create some space between the two of you. Grabbing the edge of the towel still wrapped around his waist and tugging the knot loose so the fabric falls away revealing his hard length. 

You make a noise much like a mewl at the sight, reaching out and taking him in hand. Your core clenching as you slide your palm along his velvet like skin, the heat of him sinking into you. The tip of his cock red and weeping, your eyes trailing upward when he starts to chuckle again. “What’s so funny?” 

“Just how eager a certain Kitten is when she wants something.” Tapping your side but not stopping you from giving him a hand job. “Not sit up, unless you want me to rip this lovely little piece of lingerie from your body.” Sighing as his hands hook the hem of the thin nightwear, brushing along your ribs as she moves it higher. 

You have to let him go so he can fully remove the garment, and when he does he’s quick to place his hands over your breasts. Teasing the skin between his fingers with a raised eyebrow. “No matter how often I see these, it’s not enough.” 

“So the leader of Onychinus is a boob man?” A teasing lilt to your voice as you go back to pumping his cock with a twist of your wrist near the head, using the precum seeping from his head as lube. 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Leaving the tissue of your chest alone, seemingly happy with the way your nipples have hardened under his touch. “More.” Trailing off until his eyes lock with yours. “I’m a man that knows exactly what he wants, and takes steps to ensure I obtain it.” Using the heel of his hand to push you back into the fabric of the bedspread before hooking a single digit into the band of your underwear and tugging it down your legs, only for part of the material to snag and in his haste force it to snap. He’s as smooth as he can be removing the tattered scrap of fabric and your hand from his cock, adjusting his position to toss your underwear to the floor. 

“Hey!” 

“I’ll get you another pair later.” Laughing at the indignation on your face as your nose quirks at the man. Another adjustment and Sylus pauses, his cock heavy as it rests against your thigh. “Tell me what you want.” That husk is back in his voice and you wonder if he’s wanted to have you with no barriers before now. 

“I want you Sylus. All of you.” Smiling up at him as you place a hand on his chest, adding enough pressure as you drag it along the skin to make him hiss just like when you were both in the bathroom. “I want to feel you deep inside me with nothing between us.” 

“Tell me if it’s too much.” Using his hand to guide his cock between your legs, but he doesn’t move to enter you right away. Sliding his tip along your folds as he gathered some of your wetness, his hand working your slick along his length. Grinning down aware you’re watching him and making a show of tapping his dick against your clit so you let out a soft little gasp as it sends shockwaves through your stomach and your thighs to clench. “Ready?” 

He’s watching your face, waiting for you to either speak or nod for him to continue. After taking a deep breath you nod, trying to will your body to relax for the incoming stretch. You can’t help the long sigh that leaves your lips as he lines the head of his cock up with your entrance and starts to press inside. You gaze firmly on his face now as he stares at where your bodies are joined and watches as his length disappears inside of you. 

“So good.” Panting as he starts to pull back somewhat before plunging forward once more, he’s still not as deep as he can go, maybe a third of his length stretching your slick walls. It’s far from the first time you’ve had sex, even farther from the last, yet it feels so different without that thin layer of latex separating you. Every bump and vein seems more prominent as he splits you open with his dick, his gaze unwavering from where he’s connected to you.

If you weren’t already starting to squirm from the heat radiating into your pussy from his dick you might have noticed the damp skin at the edge of his hairline. Sylus is struggling to stop from snapping his hips forward and slamming his length balls deep, he wants to savor this. The way your slick walls suck him in and how warm and tight you are with that direct skin to skin contact. One word runs through his mind on repeat as more of his dick slides inside of you. 

Heavenly.

You gasp, your hands writhing and you flail, trying to grab something, anything, to ground you. He feels so good, the veins along his shaft rubbing against a bundle of nerves that has your cunt clamping down. The firm muscles of his forearms end up being what you find, grasping them as the tendons shift. “Alright, Sweetie? I’m just past halfway.” You whine hearing that, squeezing his arms a little harder than you meant to. 

“Sylus!” Bawling his name in a whisper, still aware you don’t want to make too much noise even without the door against your back. “More.” Arching your back as you try to spear yourself more onto his cock. “Please.” You’re ready to cum and you want to feel him in the deepest part of you when you tip over the edge. 

“Hang on, I’ll get us there.” His voice sounds clipped, opening your eyes that you don’t remember closing. His cheeks painted a vibrant crimson to match his eyes, and you notice a single bead of sweat form between his brow and trail down to the tip of his nose. “I didn’t think the lack of a condom would have me this close when we just started.” Hooking his arms around your thighs briefly to lift your legs, allowing him to move closer. A few more thrusts before he stops and you start to tremble, the head of his cock just brushing your cervix has your core burning like an inferno. 

Your walls clamped around him tightly enough you could have sworn you felt his heart beating inside your pussy, throbbing in time to the pulse in his neck as he remained stationary. The only part of Sylus moving was his chest as it expanded with the force of his inhales. “Damn Kitten.” Watching you through lidded eyes. “You feel like a vice.” Trailing one of his hands from your hip to the soft skin of your abdomen, placing his palm just above your pelvis. “Just relax, I want this to last.” 

Easier said than done when you’re ready to cum, softly whining as you lift your hands higher along his arms. “Hard to do when you feel so good Sylus.” Reaching his shoulders and giving him a small tug hoping he’d get the idea of what you want. “Wish we’d done this a while ago.” 

A playful smile on his rosy features, Sylus does understand, leaning forward so his upper body presses against yours. Giving his hips an explorative roll as if to ensure he could still move while checking to see if one of you was close enough to reach your orgasm. Letting out a soft whine, the pressure against your body makes you feel even more of him than before. “As much as I don’t like waiting, this might be one of the few times it was worth the delay.” Framing your head between his arms you swallow, the sight of those veins along his upper arms gets you every time. Licking your lips and unaware you’ve relaxed more as you’re distracted by the thought of running your tongue along those veins and the muscles of his arms. 

This close to your face, Sylus starts to rock his hips just enough to move his cock along your walls. The last time he was this gentle when he fucked you had been the first time, and the similarities weren’t lost on him. Just after a few thrusts, he can feel your walls quivering around him, the trembling of your body under his. Closing his eyes as he focused on how you felt around him for a few breaths, listening to the sound of your pants and the hammering of your heart almost lost to the low slap of skin. 

You don’t know how much longer you can last, your fingers dragging down along the muscles of his back as you arch into him. Seeking more of his skin against your body as your breathing becomes more labored, you’re so close. “Sylus.” Trying to warn him of your oncoming orgasm, but it’s too late. Slamming your eyes shut and gripping his back hard enough to leave crescents where the tips of your fingers are. 

“Fuck.” Hissing through his teeth as he opened his eyes to watch your face as you came around him, keeping that gentle tempo as he fucked you through your orgasm. The blissed out expression on your face made him grin, knowing that look was all because of him. 

As the flood of pleasure passed you hummed, loosening your grip on the meat of his upper back just enough to drag your fingers downward. His skin is just as slick as it was when he stepped out of the shower, allowing your hands to ghost over his skin down to the curve of his ass. Grabbing both cheeks and giving them a squeeze, feeling them clench at the sudden grope. Hissing your name through clenched teeth, opening those crimson orbs you can see how much he’s holding himself back. 

“Don-” 

“Where?” 

Cutting you off the way his face is strained makes sense, the way his whole body is taunt as he tries to hold himself together just a little longer and you feel your heart flutter inside your chest. “Inside.” He doesn’t show any sign of surprise at the world, nodding to let you know he heard you. “Don’t hold back.” Saying what you wanted to moments before, it’s like the floodgates are released as he starts to pistol his hips even faster and harder. 

Practically jackhammering inside of your walls, those heavy balls of his slapping against your ass. One of his hands tangles in your hair, tilting your head so he can smash his lips to yours. A messy sloppy kiss that has you reeling as his tongue plunges into your mouth in time to his cock. Groaning into your mouth as he starts to empty himself inside of you, spurting his cum in the deepest part of your sex. 

The sensation of that warm fluid gushing inside of your walls sends you over the edge again, your final movement curving your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. 

Sylus keeps moving, churning your insides as he keeps pumping into you aware of his seed dripping out of your cunt and between your bodies. As much as he’s thought about this moment now that he’s finally having you bare for the first time it's even better than he had imagined. Slowing his hips after his cock is finally done spurting his release, lifting his head and taking in the sight of your bruised lips. You look as exhausted as he feels, tenderly removing your arms from his neck Sylus leans back, licking his lips at the sight of your folds after his softening length slips from you. Your sex is a drenched mess, a steady stream of his thick cum pouring from your entrance and down to your ass before dripping to the sheets. 

Swallowing as his cock twitches, growing hard again. “Sylus?” Moaning his name as you rub your face, pushing part of your hair back away from your slick skin. 

“Yes, Sweetie?” 

“I think I need another shower.” He starts to chuckle, giving his head a shake because you’ve clearly forgotten how you used the last of the water even before he got his shower in. 

“How about a bit of cuddling, hm? Since someone used all the water earlier the best I can offer is a damp cloth in a little bit.” Teasing you as he moves to lay down beside you, aware of the sweat clinging to both of your bodies but wanting to feel your body along his even if it didn’t help him cool down. 

“Fuck.” Sylus just laughs all the harder as you realize the predicament you placed yourself in. 

Later after you’re both dressed again outside on the terrace and you’re tucked against his side Sylus finds himself looking up at the stars while you snore away. Thinking back to the conversation about what he once had been, and how that monster would have never been as gentle as he had been with you today. You don’t belong in his world, but he’ll be damned if he gave you up now. His hand gripping your shoulder a little harder, tomorrow he’ll take you back to the airport with just the memory of this afternoon to keep him going through the coming days. 

Masterlist

[cherrychilli]

18+ Eddie Munson x f! reader, best friend! Eddie, friends to lovers, mentions of bodily injury, mentions of masturbation (m), oral sex(m)

Summary: Eddie hurts his dick and as his best friend, you decide to help him ease his pain.

WC: 3K

A/N: I am so tickled by the idea of Eddie wrecking his cock and balls on accident so I had to write about it and wedge in some spice as well. Enjoy!

When Eddie had told you he wasn't feeling well enough to hangout tonight he should have realized that someone like you, caring and loyal almost to a fault, would take it upon themselves to help in any way they could, showing up at his trailer a few hours later with dinner and a zipper pouch full of medicine he might need.

"Ding dong, I'm here to take care of you, Munson", you'd gleamed at him playfully.

It was no secret that he didn't take the best care of himself whenever he was under the weather. Eddie was known for skipping his meds and spending most of the day swathed in a cocoon made of blankets, emerging hours later to pad into the kitchenette where he'd nibble at cold, leftover takeout before weakly traipsing back to bed.

So, when you showed up at his front door with your arms wound around a thermos full of homemade chicken soup and a Tupperware container warm with baked salmon, he should have felt happy. He should have felt grateful for the trouble you'd gone through just to make sure that he ate well and was looked after while he was on his own but instead, all he felt was the sharp, piercing sting of guilt.

The thing was, Eddie wasn't really sick.

He wasn't running a fever like he'd claimed over the phone. He'd purposely hidden the real reason why he couldn't come over to your place and watch a movie like the two of you had planned because well, he was embarrassed.

The truth was, Eddie couldn't come hangout because his dick and balls were killing him.

It had happened last night.

He'd been spread out on the couch while Wayne was away, dressed only in a pair of boxers snug around his hips with a movie playing on TV to keep him entertained throughout the night.

As usual, a blunt was held between his plush lips for most of the evening too, a bottle of jack by his feet which he'd pick up and gulp from time to time.

The combination of alcohol and the weed served a particular purpose that night – helping to make the tooth achingly bad acting in Zombie Lake more tolerable, a movie he'd picked solely for the gratuitous nudity.

Forty minutes of naked, unsuspecting women wading in zombie infested waters later and he was more than a little strung out at that point, rendered blissfully languid while he lay slumped against the couch.

Eddie had picked that moment to reach for the whiskey with his bloodshot, half lidded eyes still plastered on the TV screen, missing twice before he managed to pick it up with light fingers.

Bringing the three quarters full bottle up to his lips for another swig, that was when the booze slipped out of his loose grip, too high to react quickly enough and catch it before it was too late.

With his thighs spread far apart, the full weight of the bottle landed directly on his crotch, the pain shooting from between his legs like daggers, enough to make him feel like the air had been kicked right out of his lungs.

The carpet and couch soaked up most of the spilled whiskey, the nearly empty bottle lying on its side on the floor while Eddie couldn't do much but cup both hands over his junk and curl into himself, trying to grunt, groan and hiss through the pain as tears brewed in his eyes.

Now, it's almost been a full 24 hours since the incident happened but his dick's still super sore from the impact. And to make matters worse his balls are blue in more ways than one.

See, Eddie's got the kind of sex drive that had him jacking off at least twice a day to keep himself sane but now thanks to his injury, he's already feeling pent up, unable to tug his swollen cock and give himself that much needed release.

So, though your outfit isn't provocative, it's still you, his best friend whom he's harbored less than platonic feelings for so of course your denim shorts and your tank top are making him want to act up, the swirling desire at the base of his stomach burning even hotter with the way you're taking care of him, showing him a level of concern no one else has before.

It isn't fair, he thinks, having to sit across from you on the couch while he tries to fight off the growing ache in his cock, tries to will his sore member soft for the sake of your friendship as well as curbing his own pain.

You're yet to notice his dilemma though, rummaging through your bag while Eddie tries not to let the scent of your body wash trigger flashes of you sitting in your bath tub with your bare tits above water, all wet and soapy with your nipples all hard and the bubbles trailing between your cleavage and–

"Shit", he hisses when a twinge of pain flares as his dick starts to twitch in his sweats.

"Everything okay, Eds?", you look up from your bag when you hear it but he's quick to wipe the grimace from his face, faking his best smile at you.

"All good. So, what are we doing next?"

He's relieved when he watches your soft smile slowly return to your face, the kind that reaches your eyes and curves your lips in that way that makes him want to reach out and cup your cheek, running his thumb over your soft skin before he tells you how pretty he thinks you are.

"How about casual sex?", you ask, all chipper.

"…what?"

In an instant Eddie's whole body alternates between flashes of frigid cold and scorching hot. Had he heard you right? were you…offering? fuck, his dick is throbbing so bad in his sweats right now.

You dive your hand back into your bag, pulling out a VHS tape and holding it out for Eddie to see.

"Figured a comedy would be for the best", you waved the tape in his gawking face, his stomach somersaulting when he reads the title. Of all the movies you could have picked, you just had to go pick the one called Casual Sex? didn't you?

"Plus, I know how much you like Lea Thompson so I figured this would be a good pick", you smiled sweetly at him, tapping a finger over the actress pictured on the cover.

Another sharp prick of guilt and another dull ache radiates in Eddie's crotch because his mind's being especially cruel to him right now, dredging up unwanted memories of the time he wore out a copy of Howard the Duck by beating his meat to Lea Thompson's scenes all day and night.

"Uh, got anything else?", he croaks, clearing his throat when you narrow your eyes at him a little suspiciously.

After a little back and forth, the two of you end up watching The Thing to Eddie's relief. Nothing there that might trigger a boner except the couple of times you squealed adorably when Kurt Russell popped up on screen, kicking your feet and hugging your knees to your chest, inadvertently making your cleavage more noticeable over the neckline of your tank top.

Eddie's able to ignore it for the most part, that was until you offered to help clean up a little once the movie was over, bending over in your denim shorts to gather the empty soda cans sitting on the table in front of the couch.

Despite the alarm bells echoing in his head, he can't seem to help it, eyes trailing up the back of your smooth, bare thighs, settling on your ass and the way he can just about make out a peek of your cheeks now that your shorts have ridden up high.

Oh shit.

Up until now you'd been pretty pert all night but when you turn around, you're instantly startled by the look on Eddie's face, all twisted up and pinched as he presses a cushion into his lap and begins to wince.

"Eddie, what's wrong?", you set the cans aside, dropping back down on to the couch beside him.

Yet another flash of pain courses through him when he catches sight of the way your breasts bounce in your tank top when you take a seat. Jesus, this wasn't going to be easy, was it?

Eddie tries to mask it but you can read the pain there easily, especially when you're so close to him now, close enough that your shoulder brushes against his bicep.

"Eddie please, you can tell me. What's wrong?"

If there was a way out of this without having to admit the truth, without having to tell you how he'd given a whole new meaning to the term whiskey dick, he couldn't seem to find it, feeling helpless as he crumbles under the weight of your concerned, round-eyed stare.

"I lied, okay? I'm not sick, I just…"

Insides twisting, he has to squeeze his eyes shut the moment he sees the confusion register on your face, the way your eyebrows draw together and your eyes narrow. It's too much for him to handle and it all comes flooding out at once.

"I dropped a bottle of whiskey on my dick last night and now the damn thing's killing me because you look so– uh. Fuck. You look so…like, this and it's just– it's a lot"

Daring to open his eyes again, he finds that your own eyes have gone understandably wide, your lips slightly parted too and he hates himself for thinking how badly he'd like to slip his fingers between them and watch you suck.

"Oh. So like, is it– are you hurt badly?", you break the silence after a few seconds of processing his word vomit, blinking up at Eddie like you're fascinated to learn more about his injured cock.

"I mean, I don't think it's anything I need to go to hospital over but yeah. Hurts a lot", he replies a little sheepishly, a side of Eddie you don't see very often because he's far and away from the shy type that's for sure.

"Like when you get hard?", you tilt your head to the side curiously.

Eddie blinks back at you when you say it, clearly taken aback by how casually you're treating this whole situation after how hard he'd tried to hide it but he manages to answer you with a slow nod.

He shivers next when suddenly you drop your gaze to the cushion he's got pressed over his aching boner. "Hm… it’s probably not going to go away anytime soon either, huh? we should do something about that", you suggest thoughtfully.

In that moment, all he can do is look at you in disbelief, sweat beading at his temple and his fingers trembling on top of the cushion. This couldn't really be happening, could it? His best friend since, forever, offering to get him off?

Eyes drifting up to his once more, you lean a little closer, voice dropping down to a whisper. "I could help you", you offer, tentatively placing your hand on Eddie's knee. "Only if you want me to."

Adams apple bobbing, it hurts Eddie when he swallows, finding his throat's turned dry and tight in the last few seconds.

"Seriously? you'd actually do that? um, are you sure?"

You bite back a laugh because the look on his face is nothing short of adorable, all wide eyed and eager like a puppy awaiting a treat.

"Well, you could sit here with your bruised dick and keep whimpering like a baby or you could let me make you feel better. What's it going to be, Eds?", you quirk up an eyebrow at him at the same time the corner of your mouth picks up into a playful smirk.

"The second one please", he answers quickly, his cheeks flooding with so much color you kind of want to pinch them and tease him about how cute he looks right now.

"Thought so."

Smiling, you pick yourself up off the couch, carefully lowering yourself to kneel between Eddie's legs when you place your hands on his knees and gently encourage him to spread them apart.

He's quick to help you when you reach for the waistband of his sweatpants next, carefully pulling both it and his boxers down to finally free his cock.

For both of you, it's surreal being in this position – Eddie with his cock out, all hard and throbbing for you and you wedged perfectly between his legs like a puzzle piece he'd been searching for all his life.

You have to take a few seconds to admire it; the way the length of him blushes red and curves up towards his belly, the way the many veins wrap around his thickness and the dark, wiry thatch of hair at his base, untrimmed and full. Just how you'd always imagined based on how wild Eddie kept the hair on his head.

Eyes trailing lower, you have to resist the urge to palm his balls to keep from possible hurting him. You want to feel the weight of them in your hand though because you can't help but think they look so full and that makes you feel sorry for Eddie and how he'd had to deal with that discomfort all day.

The thought has you pushing your lips out into a sympathetic little pout, hand reaching out to finally touch him. Gently, you use your fingers to pull back his soft foreskin, leaning forward and parting your lips to delicately kitten lick at his red, leaking tip, keeping your eyes fixed on his face for any signs of discomfort.

You're pleased to find none, chest blooming with pride as you watch complete bliss wash over Eddie's face, swirling your tongue gently and collecting beads of precum when you hear him sigh and moan with relief.

"Oh my god, that's – that's really fucking good. Please keep going", he whines unabashedly because that persistent ache that's been troubling him since last night is being soothed so fucking well by your eager tongue. At this point he doesn't even care what kind of sounds you might pull out of him, desperate to feel more of your touch.

"Don't think I'm gonna last long", he gulps when you blink up at him with your pretty lips wrapped around his tip. "Your mouth feels too good."

His words make your confidence rise like steadily billowing smoke. "You don't need to", you tell him truthfully. "I just want to make you feel better", pressing a sweet kiss to the top of his smooth head, loving the way his breath stutters when you do it and the feeling of his sticky precum coating your lips in a shiny film. Like he's marking you..

As you continue, you refrain from using your hands while you pleasure him, keeping them pressed flat against his inner thighs, using only your mouth to kiss and lick up and down his rigid shaft as your nose nudges against it softly, returning to suckle at his tip from time to time.

It's easy to tell how badly Eddie must have needed this because he's unravelling so quickly under your touch as he throws his head back against the couch, his hands balled into fists by his sides while he whimpers about how well you're doing.

He's so pretty like this with his neck bared to you but you miss his gaze, removing your swelling lips from his cock to coax him back. "Don't hold back with me, Teddie. Tell me what you need and I'll give it to you", you coo earnestly.

Lifting his cloudy head to look down at you, it's Eddie's turn to surprise you when he brings one hand up to brush back a few strands of hair that'd gotten stuck to your damp cheek, a brief moment of tenderness that makes the butterflies resting in the depths of your stomach wake and beat their wings.

"Could you go a little lower?", he asks you, chest heaving and lips slightly pink from biting.

"Want me to lick your balls?", you try to clarify.

That makes him chuckle, a sweet, airy sound that makes you feel like there's sunlight spilling through the spaces between your ribs, filling up your whole chest with pleasant warmth.

"When d'you start talking like this, huh? Y' got such a dirty mouth on you, sweetheart", he teases you lightly, pulling his hand back so you can get back to working him.

You simply smile against his shaft in reply, feigning coy and innocence while trailing kisses lower and lower until you reach the seam of his balls. Placing your warm tongue flat against it, you draw it up slowly, wetting his heated skin before pressing more kisses against his sack, giggling when the hair there starts to tickle your lips.

"Think you can handle it if I take you in my throat? I'll go slow, I promise", you speak up from between his legs.

Given how often he's pumped his cock to the very thought of you throating him, Eddie nearly trips over himself trying to find the words to answer.

"Holy shit, yes please", he manages to let out with a strained groan.

That's all you needed to hear before you're taking him into your mouth again, bobbing up and down a few times slowly, careful not to let your teeth scrape his sensitive skin before you bob deeper and let him reach the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex and making your throat close around him nice and tight.

"Baby– baby, fuck I'm going to cum", he gasps, hips jerking, eyes squeezing shut.

And that's all the warning he can manage to give you before he's spilling down your throat, thick, creamy ropes of it which you swallow down eagerly and as best as you can.

Most of it slides down the warm, wet contracting walls of your throat but you realize just how pent-up Eddie must have been when your cheeks puff out a little with a generous amount of his cum that you couldn't manage to gulp down fast enough, pulling off of Eddie's softening cock with a mouthful of spend sitting warm on your tongue, coating the insides of your cheeks.

Sitting there on your knees while Eddie pants and recuperates, a deeply curious part of you has you swishing his cum in your mouth, savoring the distinct, tangy taste of him before you part your lips and let him look inside.

Exhausted but entirely amazed, he gawks at you and the viscous mess of spit and semen in your mouth, tempted to stick his own tongue in there and taste himself on you before you press your swollen lips back together and promptly swallow, a beaming smile breaking out on your face.

"See? told you I'd take care of you."

[gojotojis]

waiting room…—ryomen sukuna

cw: depression, grief, cheating, unrequited, bestfriends, mentions of cancer, loss of appetite, angst

Sukunas far from kind, he’s harsh and rough around the edges but you love him all the more for it. Your mothers were bestfriends so naturally you two became bestfriends. Just two kids finding comfort in eachother.

From Sukuna holding your hand your first day of kindergarten, to him showing you how to ride a bike, to him carrying you when you fell off the monkey bars and broke your arm to him holding you in his arms when your mom died.

You two were inseparable, inevitable and Infinite.

Death however is unavoidable and after your mom, it created a wedge between you two.

It wasn’t suppose to happen but you got so lost in your grief, so lost that someone else became his person. Now it feels like you’re grieving the loss of two people even when one of them is so close.

Choso frowns at the bags under your eyes as he wraps an arm around you. You sink into his warmth, just needing to feel someone.

“You okay?” He asks and it’s something everyone’s been asking for months, a question you can’t answer honestly without sobbing. You feel broken, shattered beyond repair because the person you loved most in the world is gone.

“Yeah” you say swallowing the lump in your throat as he guides you to the backyard. You look like utter shit in pink sweats that are far too big but you love feeling hidden from the world.

He slides the door open and lets you out first, you can hear the laughter which stops as eyes fall on you. Yuki looks sad for you which you hate, the last thing you want is pity.

“Hey”Yorozu says, the first one to break the silence as you avoid looking at the one person you find yourself crying out for every night.

“Hi” you whisper.

“You look like shit” he says, it makes you want to smile but you don’t. Yorozu stares between you two, as you look at him. His red eyes threatening to pull you out from under and drown you in them.

You’re not sure why your feelings changed, why one day Sukuna went from the boy that you wanted to do everything with to the man you wanted to be in love with. You were gonna tell him, even if it ruined everything but then your mom died and suddenly you needed him more than ever.

Sukunas always looked at you but he’s never seen you.

You’ve seen the way Yorozu holds his hand, the way she looks at him like he’s the world to her. It’s painful, like you’re fighting for your last breath but eventually you have to stop breathing, stop fighting for him and let him go. He was never yours to begin with.

“How are you?” Yorozu asks as you take the seat between Choso and Yuki. You don’t hate her, what’s the point but you know she’s not fond of you. All pictures of you had been removed from Sukunas Instagram, he stopped wearing the friendship bracelet you made him with your initials and he stopped calling.

He’d erased you faster than you could blink, erased and replaced. Your clothes feel too tight as you blink back the stupid tears that threaten to spill.

“Good” you answer and she hums to herself, getting up to sit in Sukunas lap. You already regret coming but Choso has been begging for weeks for you to stop by. Your dad drowns himself in work so it’s just you all by yourself most days and it’s suffocating. Your tears feel like an endless sea, just wanting everything to stop.

It’s so strange how the one person you could tell everything to, seems like the one person you can’t bring yourself to talk to.

He’s breath taking without even trying, muscles bulging from under his black shirt with tattoos etched into his skin. Strands of pink hair fall over his forehead, making you want to push them back.

“Can we talk?” He asks, his eyes pinned on you and it suddenly it’s like everyone’s disappeared.

You nod and he stands to his full God fearing height. Everything about him oozes masculinity and intimidation, it’s funny to think once upon a time you had been taller than him.

Yorozu looks uneasy as he leads you into the house and slides the door shut.

“You been eating?” He asks, genuine concern on his face.

“Yeah” you lie, eating is incredibly hard and when you force yourself to, it simply comes back up.

“You’re a shit liar” he says walking toward the kitchen and you follow. You take a seat on a stool at counter as he pulls out strawberry jam and peanut butter. He washes his hands and grabs two slices of bread, placing them on a plate. You watch him spread the peanut butter on one slice and the jelly on another before he combines them and cuts it diagonally. He slides it over to you, and you feel tears gather in your eyes.

You had forgetten your lunch in your mom’s car your first day of kindergarten, which was Sukunas first day of second grade. He pulled out a strawberry and peanut butter jelly sandwich his mom had made him and offered it to you. You gave him one slice and you both ate in a comfortable silence. From that day on, it became your comfort food.

You offer him your other half which he just stares at and you shove it toward him. He grabs it and takes a bite making you smile, your stomach rumbles as you take a hesitant bite.

Maybe it’s because he made it, but your body accepts it and it settles in your belly.

“Next time I’ll shove it down your fucking throat” he threatens as you take another bite.

“Thank you” you whisper staring up at him. His thumb grazes your lip, wiping jelly from it. You watch him lick the same jelly from his finger and your breath hitches. He doesn’t think much of it but the action burns your insides.

You have to let him go. Your friendships slowly dying, maybe it’s for the best to sever it altogether.

You feel like a wounded animal begging to be put out of its misery. Why is this so agonizing?

The day Sukuna told you he had a girlfriend felt like the day the world ended, you felt ashamed to have bawled your eyes out till they were swollen shut. The pain in your chest was agonizing, and suddenly he was gone too.

“Talk to me” he says, it’s more like a plea as his eyes soften. It’s hard to look at him without seeing her, imagining her lips on him, her hands…the idea of them having sex makes you want to sob until your eyes bleed and your throats too raw to speak.

“There’s nothing to really say” you answer.

“Bullshit. You don’t answer my texts, you don’t call, I’m giving you a hand and you won’t fucking take it. Just let me help you” he says frustrated.

“I don’t want to argue”you sigh.

“You’d have to care to argue” he says and you frown. If he thinks you don’t care then he doesn’t know you at all because you care so fucking much that it’s consuming you, he’s consuming you.

“Yorozus waiting” you say climbing down from the stool.

“I miss you,” he says and you still. He sounds too soft, not like the Sukuna you know who hates feelings and the concept of love. You don’t understand what he’s doing with Yorozu but maybe this is it, maybe she brings out this side in him.

The words want to come out but you can’t say them, yearning for someone that doesn’t feel the same is pointless. Maybe this is where your friendship dies, where you can finally be free of the ache that burns in your chest when he’s not there and the suffocation that consumes you when he is.

“Night Sukuna” you say walking away from him.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Waiting room by Phoebe Bridgers plays in your earbuds as you lay curled in the grass above your mother’s grave.

I know it's for the better

Know it's for the better

Know it's for the better

You feel like a fucking shell of yourself, lungs collapsing and heart shattering. Choked sobs leave you as your hand reaches out to touch the stone.

Her dying destroyed you as much as watching her wither away, the chemo draining her, the hair loss, pale skin, hollow cheeks. Nobody should have to watch the person they love most slowly die.

She never stopped smiling when she saw you, when you’d curl into her side and thread your fingers into hers and listen to her recount the stories of your childhood.

“I love you bigger than the whole sky” her last words to you.

A pair of familiar air maxs step infront of you, a red heart shoelace threaded through the right shoe that matches the one on the left of your converse. A gift you gave him for Valentine’s Day in the first grade. He has dozens of them from every year but it’s his favorite no matter how worn and dirty it looks. The first gift you ever gave him.

He disappears from your vision, after a few seconds you feel him lay down beside you and wrap his arms around you. He holds you while you cry. He feels like home, his body so warm against yours as his arms wrap tighter around you. His lips press against your temple and you feel like the biggest piece of shit.

You’ve pushed him away and despite it he’s here. How’d this beautiful friendship become so twisted, so confusing and painful. You sob harder, not just for your mom but for the friendship that’s ruined because you can’t control the way your heart thumps at the sight of him, the way your knees go weak and hearts form in your eyes.

You turn to face him, his hold loosens to wipe your tears as you stare at him like he holds the entire universe in his hands. He’s so painfully fucking beautiful, it’s a punch to the lungs the way his lashes brush his cheeks as he blinks at you and those red eyes consume you.

He’s consumed you, your hearts carved out so much space for him that it’s his. You don’t think it’ll ever stop being his. He kisses your nose and your eyes close, feeling him take the earbud from your left ear and put it into his.

Wildflower by Billie Eilish plays as his fingers brush through your hair. There’s nothing between you, bodies pressed together, foreheads touching, breaths intwining.

Kiss me.

He pulls away when something wet hits both your cheeks, several drops fall on you and he’s pulling you up as it starts to rain.

He guides you out of the cemetery, you don’t say anything as you pull away from his grasp.

“Get in the car” he says as rain beats against his skin.

“I’ll walk” you shake your head, shoving your earbuds into your pocket.

“What changed?”he asks and you blink up at him through drops of water clinging to your lashes.

“What?”.

“You can barely look at me anymore, I wish you’d just fucking talk, scream even because this shit is killing me” he says louder over the rain.

“I gotta go,” you say walking away.

He grabs you, pulling you toward him. Both his hands grip the sides of your face, and there’s this desperate look in his eyes you’ve never seen in all your twenty years of knowing him.

“I’m right here, I’m right fucking here” he says pressing his forehead to yours, making the air leave your body.

“It’s you and me, just talk to me” he begs. You can’t talk to him, you can’t bring yourself to say the words as your arms wrap around his neck. Your eyes close and you press your lips to his, it sends a current that courses through your body like you’ve been electrocuted. Your pupils dilate, goosebumps form on your arms and your toes tingle.

He doesn’t react as you pull away.

“I’m sorry” you say prepared to run, feet turning you away from him until his hand grips the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair and his lips slam against yours.

His teeth sink into your bottom lip and you gasp. His tongue grazes yours, making your knees go weak and fingers grip his soaked shirt.

His mouth moves against yours like he’s starved, his tongue makes your mouth its home as you fight for air. Deep gasps between kisses as his free hand squeezes your waist. Rain falls around you, droplets rolling off your skin and you don’t seem to care.

His hands move to grab your cheeks, mouth devouring yours. You don’t want this to end, he tastes like all you’ve ever wanted. Your thighs squeeze, the kissing sending pure heat to the very center of you.

He pulls away allowing you to breathe properly, lips swollen and glossy mixed with saliva and rain. His forehead presses against yours and you lean into kiss him again but he shakes his head.

I love you.

“I can’t, we can’t” he breathes and your eyes water.

Yorozu.

“I know” you say offering a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. You stand on your tippy toes and kiss his cheek before you walk away, leaving him in the rain.

Two things are true.

You love Sukuna and you need to let him go.

[shyamnews]

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[musaslullaby]

Stupid joke

George Russell x fem reader

Summary: Mercedes and George want to play a prank on George's Italian girlfriend.

Warning: just fluff

Masterlist

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"Well, umm… Mercedes wants me dead today. You’ve just witnessed my last race," said George Russell, extremely serious, as he spoke to the small camera wedged between the books in the living room cabinet.

In the distance, a familiar laugh echoed. "Mate, don’t be so serious!" exclaimed Lewis Hamilton, in that light-hearted tone that only a teammate and friend could get away with.

"You ruined my moment," George replied with a mischievous smile, looking off-camera toward Lewis, who continued to chuckle. After one last laugh, George refocused on the camera, the smile slowly fading, replaced by a mock expression of worry.

"They forced me," said George, pointing an accusing finger at Lewis and a Mercedes technician, "to play a prank on my girlfriend, and it’s going to end very badly," he added, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and anticipation.

"Now you’re exaggerating," Lewis responded, still laughing, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "And you don’t know her well enough," George quickly retorted, giving Lewis a serious look.

"You're probably wondering what they’re making me do. For those who don’t know, my girlfriend is Italian, and these fantastic colleagues of mine," George continued, throwing an ironic smile at his friends.

"Thanks for the compliment," said one of the technicians, passing behind George.

"No problem. Anyway, I have to ruin her beloved food," George confessed in one breath, letting out a nervous giggle as he felt the anxiety about Yn's reaction growing.

After setting up all the hidden cameras around the house, the Mercedes team, along with Lewis—who had come only to enjoy his teammate’s nervousness—left, leaving George alone with his plan.

A few hours later, Yn returned home from work, tired but happy to see George. "Hi, amore" she said, hugging him affectionately as he was pulling the food out of the shopping bags.

"Guess what? We’re having Italian tonight," George announced with a smile, holding her close, trying to mask the nervousness that was gnawing at him.

They sat together on the couch, plates of warm carbonara in hand. Yn looked at him with affection and a hint of suspicion. "Are you sure you’re not trying to poison me?" she asked, laughing playfully.

"I promise, I didn’t even touch it," George replied with a playful smile, trying to hide the excitement for what he was about to do.

After a few bites of pasta, George furrowed his brow, pretending to be puzzled. "Something’s missing," he said, as if deeply reflecting.

"Yeah, maybe a bit of salt," Yn replied, focused on the carbonara, not paying attention as George got up to go to the kitchen.

When George returned with a bottle in hand, Yn’s eyes widened in surprise. She didn’t immediately recognize what was inside, but as soon as he started squeezing the contents onto the pasta, her heart skipped a beat.

"Wait, che cazzo stai facendo?" she yelled, snatching the ketchup out of his hands with an incredulous expression. "Are you crazy?"

"Come on, it’s not that bad," George replied, trying to downplay it, though he couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. "You’re just overreacting."

"I swear, if you eat that, I’ll leave you," Yn threatened, her tone serious and loaded with a mix of anger and frustration.

But George, with a provocative smile, shoved a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth, chewing with satisfaction. "Oh my God," Yn exclaimed, nervously standing up from the couch, incredulous. "You didn’t actually do that."

"It’s good. Want some?" George asked, lifting the fork towards her, his smile growing wider.

Yn stared at him, anger boiling inside her, but instead of responding, she grabbed the bottle of ketchup and sprayed the entire contents all over him.

George stood still for a moment, feeling the ketchup trickling down his face and soaking into his shirt. The cold impact of the sauce made him shiver, but what struck him the most was the expression in Yn’s eyes: a mix of disbelief, disappointment, and anger on the verge of exploding.

Raising his hands in surrender, George tried to calm her down. "Okay, okay, I was just joking!" he said, slowly approaching her.

Yn looked at him, confused, furrowing her brows as she tried to understand what was happening. George wrapped her in a tight hug, despite the sticky sauce.

"No, George!" Yn whimpered, feeling the ketchup transferring onto her clothes, but he burst out laughing. With a gesture of his hand, he pointed to the hidden camera.

Yn looked at it for a moment, and then, realizing everything, she burst into laughter. "You and the Mercedes guys are such jerks," she said, guessing that the Formula 1 team had a hand in the prank.

"So, do you forgive me?" George asked, making puppy eyes as he picked up the small camera, hoping for a happy ending.

"Yes," Yn replied with a smile. George, equally relieved, kissed her on the cheek, but she quickly added, with a more serious tone, "But my revenge is coming."

"Oh no," George murmured, pretending to be scared as he looked at the camera, knowing full well that with Yn, revenge could be sweet… or very spicy.

[whorrorbellee]

Beautiful Boy

aemond targaryen x strong!reader

chapter two chapter three

"You look better like this," he says, his voice low and raspy.

You flinch, swatting his hand away from your face. He runs his hand over your cheek and then suddenly your head is knocked back into another direction, your cheeks swells. Without warning, he grabs a fist full of your hair, your chin rises upwards.

You find yourself in the RedKeep, keeping the bed warm for the one eyed prince.

Warnings: violence, fingering?afab reader, only description is long dark hair, Starvation. Stockholm syndrome(eventual)cnc,dub con,sa

Word count: 7k

There's a pregnant pause and then a soft gurgling noise. A burning ash smell fills the air in the expanse of the riverlands, you stay nestled between the walls of the keep, smoke rises from the grounds, a loud marching of what you can only hope is the Strong soldiers that come to save the few around Harrenhal. Maybe the Castle was cursed as people believed it to be. The death toll had only added up after Harren Black and his sons had withered away in the dragonfire. First the attack from Daemon and his army, then the Targaryens had only abandoned Harrenhal is such fleeting moments, You believed there was more death to come. Only years had passed since your brother and fathers death when you were Two and Ten, Larys had only hidden you away after he was confirmed heir for Harrenhal after Lord Simon Strong (your great Uncle) would pass. 

How you wish he could see the destruction of his hold after he had executed your Family for treason ,although the castle had been withering away under the rain for years. Lary’s mendacious nature had you squirming under his tend, knowing he would set you with a match that would only make your skin crawl, when the time had come. 

The stench of Dragon fire comes closer, and you slide down the cool wet stone wall of Harrenhal, hand over your mouth, you sweep the length of your dress closer to your body, you find yourself in a precarious situation, wedged into the many nooks the building had to offer. You gaze down at the mossy grass, the sky darkens in a cloak of ash and you almost believe it to be over, then the rainfall had come, sweeping the castle into a darker shade, it washed the blood away from the walls. 

Aemond stood at the edge of the ruins, His lone eye surveying the wreckage that stood before him. The aftermath of dragon fire had been a sight to behold, even after he had witnessed it so many times. His eye catches upon a lone figure in the distance; close to the edge of the keep upon the mountain, hidden away just out of sight, so intriguing. A flash of a Light green gown, rustling against the stone brick after a crack of lighting befell the castle. The sight had provoked him after bearing witness to the slaughter of all who laid here at Harrenhal. 

His long fingers traced the hilt of his dagger, he drew it close to his body as stalked towards the keep, passing the rubble and cadavers that lay upon the bloodied grass. He moved silently, his eye drawing in on his prey, he was a Predator after all. Before you knew it you were unknowingly cornered, He came to the nook where you had hid yourself, “come out, I know you're there,” He called out, voice low and dark. 

You clench your hand closer to your face, squeezing over your nose to still your breathing, fingers digging into flesh. It wasn't safe for you to come out, not yet. Not when you were unsure of who had called for you.You sniffled, raindrops running down your face. 

Aemond found his patience wearing thin. He could hear your shallow breaths, heart so loud he was sure he could hear the beating rhythm of your heartbeat thump against your ribcage. The tension builded in the air;thick and stuffy. He steps closer to the nook, your eyes widening as his boots crunched against what was left of the desecrated building. 

“I won’t ask again,” He said, Lifting his dagger away from his body, “Come out, or I will do it myself. I doubt you will enjoy that very much.”

You rise slowly at his words, feeling like a fresh doe on your legs, you peek your head round the corner. His eyes meet yours, gaze unwavering as you reveal yourself. Your eyebrow raises in a piqued interest and you slowly slide yourself out the nook you had buried yourself against. He was not a Member of the strong army, But he wasn't part of the queens.

“The king's army?” You sigh, “Daemon isn't here, they've left in the midst of your war” Your eyes gaze upon his face, meeting the horrific scar that ran from his brow to the bottom of his cheekbone, You feel his strong gaze on your own face, his lone eye roaming over your figure, you wonder if he remembers your watchful eye at the Red Keep, those years ago as he trained with a sword. 

Aemoned chuckled softly, he stepped closer towards your form, dagger clutched in his right hand as he assessed you. He could see the slight tremble in your form, a small inclination of fear within your eyes. “You’re observant, I’ll give you that,” His tone was cool and neutral. He takes another step forward, muscles flexing under his leather as he raises the blade to your chin, tilting your face to meet his eye. 

“I’m flattered, but it doesn't take a genius to know that this, is your blood-shed.” You feel the edge of the blade against your skin, it's cool in the humidity of the storm, Your hands run along the frills of your soft cotton dress, now wet. 

“You're a smart one, are you?”He chuckles dryly, he moves the dagger away from your chin, it slides down the expanse of your neck, hanging around your collar bones for a moment too long. “Mouthy too.” He steps even closer, body heat radiating off him like Hot fire on a cold day. “That’ll get you in trouble” 

“And yet I'm the last standing amongst this battlefield”. You pull away from his danger, swinging your body in the direction of the surrounding walls. “Though there wasn't much left to stand”

Aemonds lips curl into a smirk. “Cocky too”, He muses. He sheaths his dagger back into the scabbard, it makes you feel some sense of disappointment to be known now as not a threat. “You’re not wrong” he concedes, the scent of ash and fire fills the air as he chases your body with his own. “But don't forget, you are alive because i allow it”

You smirk, feet stepping over bodies and slabs of stone from the wreckage “well, I suppose it's time for me to leave, It was wonderful meeting you.” You nod your head. 

Aemond’s eyes widened in surprise as you began to descend the hill, his hand shooting out to grab your arm, grip firm and bruising. “Oh no, you’re not going anywhere” He commands with irritation, he spins you around forcing your back into the mossy stone wall, leaning in close trapping you against himself “I’m not done with you”

“Gosh, men really are all the same. You think I have to listen to your orders because you believe you hold more power over me? You may be a prince but i won't take an order from one who's lost an eye to a child”

Aemond's face enrages at your words as you smirk. His grip on your arm only grows tighter, and you struggle to breathe through the pain,His eye narrowed at your insolence. 

“Watch your tongue or i'll have it” He pushes you further against the wall, body flush against yours, his breath warms as he speaks. “I don't take kindly to being disrespected like that, especially not by mouthy wenches like you.” 

You laugh in his grip, “Mouthy wench? If my brother was dead I'd be set to inherit the very ground you stand on” you sigh, eyes gazing away from him to look upon the grounds. “To bad you torched it ”

His eye widens at the revelation, grip tightening even further, you're surprised you can still feel your hand. He leans in closer, face mere inches from your own, “You’re a highborn?” He studies your face for an inkling of a lie, but only truth prevails. “And yet, you're hiding in the ruins like a commoner” He mocks.

“Only because you slaughtered my family and army, Did my brother Lary’s Strong give you the order?” You almost wince as you say his name, it had been so long since you had seen your brother, now he was a Lord working under the new king. 

His gaze hardens at the mention of Lary’s, eyes filled with spite. “I'm not a lapdog, I'm the prince. And yet you speak with such disdain for your own brother, why?” he queries. 

You smooth back your hair, Aemond steps back finally giving you room to breathe. “He wishes to marry me off to the next man he can, I suppose I'm trouble for him.” 

“Marry you off, eh?” there's a hint of a smirk on his face, you watch as his white hair blows against the wind. “Who does your brother think is worthy for your hand”

You shrug, hands wrapping against your body. “It's not he who has to be worthy, But I, I'm sure he would sell me to a Peasant farmer if he could, for free no less.” you sneer at the thought, the smell of sweat and shit. 

Aemonds chuckles darkly at your words, his eye roams over the soft features of your face. He reaches to brush a strand of dark hair behind your ear. You flinch. The sentiment is oddly gentle in comparison to the mere moments ago where he had held a dagger against your jugular. 

“Fiery, most Highborn girls would throw themself at the opportunity to marry a prince” he mumbles “and yet you resist?”

“Resist? You act as though you haven't killed my family and destroyed everything I have ever known, all because of the boy who took your eye, the one you accuse of being a bastard son to my brother!” you grit your teeth together in destain. “and yet you ask for my hand? As what? A prize? Or a warning to the people that resist you?” 

His eyes darken, jaw clenching at your words, he grabs you by your shoulders forcing you to look him in the eye, his touch feels like fire, itchy and spreads up into a red heat across your cheeks. “You think this is about revenge? This war is more than you and your family” His grip tightens, Face mere inches away from yours. “Besides, I have no interest in taking a spoiled, defiant women as my wife”

“Then let me go” You spit.

He glares at you with rage, “You think it's that easy?” His voice is laced with sarcasm, “just let you go, You think I can simply let you go after all this?” he pauses as he steps closer to you. 

“You won't wed me, you won't kill me, you won't let me go, what do you want with me? To make me a slave? A prisoner?” 

"A slave? A prisoner?" he repeated, his voice low. "No, nothing so cruel." He leaned closer, his body now fully pressed against yours, the heat of him almost burning through your clothes. "I have much more... interesting use in mind for you"

“Gods, you disgust me”

"Oh, do I now?" he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "And yet, here you are, trembling under my touch. Tell me, is it fear that makes your heart race?" 

“It is my hatred for you” you scoff.

"Your hatred, is it?" he said, his fingers tracing a path down your collarbone. " I can almost feel the heat of it, the fire burning inside of you." He leaned in again, his breath hot against your ear. "But fire can be tamed, just like a dragon.”

“I’d rather die than let you touch me”,you push your weight on to him, he eases giving you enough room to sprint for the gates; an exit. You nearly trip against your feet as you run. 

He curses, hand on his dagger as he runs after you, his longer legs catching up, he pulls you into a bruising grip. Dagger against your throat. Aemond chuckles as you struggle.

“You thought you could escape me, did you?" he said, his breath hot against your ear. "How naive of you." He steers you towards the open field, unbecomered by wreckage. 

“Tegon, Vhager,Tegon!” (land), Aemond spits out. 

There is a large flapping of wings, The sound claps loudly like a Bomb exploding, you hide your face in your hands as air and dirt rises into your face, The great dragon lands, dirt and stone crumbling under its feet from the weight. He tightens his grip on your arm, pulling you closer to the dragon that has landed before them. The beast roars, its scales glinting in the sunlight.

"Now behave yourself. We're going for a little ride."

"What! No" You kick your feet into the dirt, Struggling in his grip, nails scratching at your attacker. 

Aemond grits his teeth at the feel of your nails on his skin, the sharp pain causing him to tighten his grip on you even more. "Stop struggling!" he snaps, "You're only making this harder for yourself."He forcibly pushes you forward, towards the dragon, dust rising as your feet scrape along the floor. "Get on Vhagar,"

“Please, No, I beg you, let me go” 

“Please no,” he pouts mockingly. “you’re coming with me whether you want to or not.”he pulls you closer to Vhager, heat radiates of her scales, “Climb, or i'll throw you over the back myself” 

You shake your head at his command. He grits his teeth. Aemond's patience was wearing thin, yet again. He let out a frustrated growl, his hand tightening around your arm to the point of pain. You yelp. "You're testing my limits, you little wench," he snarled. "Get on. The. Dragon. Now!"

He pushed you closer to the Vhager, her eyes watching you closely, huffing billows of smoke out her nose, He almost shoved you up her side "I won't tell you again."

“No, I won't go with you!”

He raises his other hand and grabs your hair, giving it a sharp tug, you yelp at the pain,hot heat on your scalp, you look back at him. His nostrils flaring."That's it," he snaps, his voice low and dangerous. "You're leaving me no choice." He grabs you around the waist and hoists you up onto the dragon's back, ignoring your protests.

“Fuck you” you spit at him. He climbs onto the dragon, his form pressed tight against your back, you flex your shoulders, flinching away as his arm grabs around your wrists.

“Hold on tight” His breath is hot on your neck.

“Please just let me go” Aemond smirked as he easily bound your wrists together with the cord, securing your hands in front of you.

"Oh, I doubt that very much," he said, his voice low and amused. "You've proven to be quite the disobedient little wench." He pulled you against him, his chest pressed firmly against your back. "No, I think it's best if I keep you bound and under my control." Your eyes widen.

“Gods, you’re a whore” 

“naejot se jēdar, Vhagar” (to the sky) The dragon's wings beat powerfully as they took to the air, the wind whipping around you both. Ground growing distant below them. He chuckles at your insult. “I might have to gag you as well if you keep up with that language” 

Your eyebrows raise at his words, “you wouldn't dare!”

"Oh, wouldn't I?" he said, his voice a low growl.His hands slid up your body, his touch almost possessive. "Perhaps a strip of cloth over your pretty little mouth might help you keep that sharp tongue under control or maybe something else~" He pulls your chin to look up at him.

You shake at his words, “I wouldn't touch you if you were the last man in this realm” you bite your tongue “I'd rather throw myself from this dragon” Aemond's fingers dig into your skin. He chuckled darkly, chest rumbling against your back.

 "Oh,you have quite the mouth on you, don't you?"His tone mocking. "Throw yourself from this dragon? What a shame that would be. All those beautiful bones and curves dashed against the ground." He ran his fingers through your wet hair, his touch almost gentle. "But I wouldn't let that happen."

It feels like mere hours, you look towards the open skies, the sight of Kings Landing coming to view as you part from the storm. Aemonds eye follows your gaze as you notice the red keep come into view, the sight blurred from your defiant tears. Vhagar’s great wings clap against the air as they begin their descent into the pit. You begin to understand the gravity of your situation. 

Vhagar lands, dust settling mere moments afterwards, Aemond climbs off the dragon pulling you with him. The cord only employs extra security of your restraint. Your wrists pull against the cord only tightening the harsh rope. Your gaze hardens as you stare at him, hiccuping as tears run down your face. Without warning his hoists you up into his arms, throwing you over his shoulders. 

You thrash around, his hold still firm ignoring your wiggling. He carries on down different hallways, each step closer to the throne room. “One eyed Cunt” you whisper. He stills, hands gripping firmly at your flesh. Growling as the knights open the door to the great hall.

“Now be good and keep that mouth shut” Aemond shrugs you off his shoulder letting you hit the floor, your eyes gaze up at the Iron Throne, swords melted down to form a horrid sight, Aegon sits upon it drunkenly "Brother!" he slurs, watching your body slumped on the ground of the castle" you've brought me a gift?"

Aemond grimaces at his brother's drunken state,his foot nudging you to stand. Face a picture of disgust, “Not exactly a gift My grace, she's mouthy one, needs a firm hand”

Aegon let out a chuckle, his eyes raking over your body. "she'll do nicely," he slurred.You shake your head at his words, remembering how his eyes used to scour your body when you were younger.

“No, Please.Anybody but him” You look up at Aemond from your knees, Aemond's eye watches you, a flicker of satisfaction in his gaze seeing you squirm and panic.

Aegon chuckled again, his gaze never leaving your body. He motioned for Aemond to bring you closer. "Don't worry" Aegon said, his voice thick with drunken desire. "I'll be gentle."

You shake your head, tears only gathering against your waterline. “Please! I’ll do anything not to be owned by him” You grasp Aemonds legs in your hand, pawing at the material, he looks down upon you seeing you beg. Aemonds lips curl at your obvious desperation, revelling in your pleads. He glances at his brother, his eye mocking."Oh, she's quite the pleader, isn't she?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Aegon let out a scoff, his gaze still fixated on you. "Such a lovely little wench," he mutters.

Aemond leaned down, his face just above yours. Hand gripping the back of your hair, pulling you up to look at him. "Anything, hm? How desperate are you, darling?"

you begin to sob at his words "Anything, please" a meer moments ago you would have found yourself enraged by begging for a man. 

Aegon turns his head towards you, he mutters "Accept me as your king and Aemond can have his way with you, im sure theres plenty whores who would love to take my cock"

Aemond smirks at his brother’s response, Watching you sob beneath him, He pulls your hair till you stand, Now a tangled mess. His eye flickering with mockery. "Go ahead, then. Accept my brother as your king. Beg him like the desperate little wench you are."

You bow, taking a knee in front of the throne, “I~”there's a hiccup,“I accept Aegon as the true king of the seven kingdoms” You look up at Aegon, He smiles in satisfaction. his gaze locked on you as you knelt before him. He raised his goblet in mockery, his expression pleased.

"There you have it, brother," he slurred. "She's all yours." He knocks back the goblet, red wine running down his pale face.

Aemond smirks, his hand still gripping your hair tightly,he gestures for you to stand, releasing the grip on your hair. “My Grace, where is Lord Lary’s Strong?”

“Probably sulking somewhere, why?” He waves his Goblet in the air awaiting for it to be filled by a servant. “`Why?” 

“This is his sister” 

Aegon’s eyes fall down on you,he raises an eyebrow, you think about how horrible you must look, stained with ash and mud. Hair a wet mess from the rain. He cackles. “Sister? And yet she is here before us like an insolent pup. It runs in the family, I say.”

“I’m glad we have common ground for I also hate my Impudent brother, he's always been a stuck up man”

Aegon chuckles, “I'm sure you will be glad to see him then, i can't wait to see his face when he sees his little sister bound at our mercy”

You pull against your restraints once more “I’m not exactly precious material, I'm sure when he sees me in your Kinslayer cunt hands he'll be more than happy”, Aemonds hand clasps tightly around your mouth to silence you, you whine. His face mere inches from yours again, you wonder if he gets off on this.

"Watch your tongue" he growls,"Insulting me will only make things worse for you."

Aegon chuckled, clearly "I have to admit," he said, his words dripping in eagerness. "You're more fiery than I expected."

The wait seemed to drag on for an eternity. Aemond keeping his hand firmly over your mouth, grip unrelenting, silencing your protests. Eventually, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, and the guard returned, leading Larys Strong into the throne room, his expression stern and composed despite the circumstances, he hobbled on his crutch. Aemond's smirk widened at the sight. " Lord Larys Strong," he taunted.

Larys, turns to aegon nodding his head “My king”

Aemond smirks, his hand still tight on your mouth you can taste his sweat,"Ah, Larys Strong," Aegon said, a smirk on his face. "Your sister here has been quite a delightful addition to our court."

Larys' gaze flicked to you, his usual stoic expression, Not a flicker of concern crossed his face. "Sister," he said, his voice cold. "What have you gotten yourself into now?" 

Aemonds hand releases your mouth and you take a deep breath in, raing your eyebrows “What have i gotten myself into?”You point to yourself,  “I've been kidnapped” 

Larys looks right through you, turning his head “By whom?” 

You shake your head at him, lips pursed “By Whom? Who do I stand with now? Bound? Taken out of my own home after it had become a wreckage!”

His eyes narrow in on Aemond, and then he laughs, “ And what do you plan to do with my sister?” 

"What's it to you, Larys?" Aemond says "Your sister is in my hands now, and i can do whatever i with please with her, i'm sure you'll be glad to not have her in your keep" 

Lary shrugs, his hand gripping his staff, “Do whatever you want with her, Though I beg of you to take her hand, a Strong and a Targaryen would make a fine match" Larys utters , he limps away leaving you to your kidnapper.

You gasp, shocked at Larys' casual dismissal of you. Aegon chuckles, taking another drink from his goblet. "How thoughtful of him to think so highly of your value." he said, his tone mocking. 

Your eyes well up at the sight of him leaving knowing it was your last chance to leave his hands,You think quickly. Jabbing an elbow into Aemond’s side and making a run for it. But he had played this game before with you, he grabs at your arm, bringing you back into his chest. “The more you struggle the worse it’ll be for you”you kick your feet at the stone.

Aemond drags you out of the throne room, his grip on your wrists firm and unyielding. He leads you down the corridors of the Red Keep, his stride long and purposeful.

You try to struggle and pull away, but his grip is too strong, and he effortlessly pulls you along.

“Where are we going?” 

Aemond casts a glance over his shoulder at you, his smile widening at your question.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he says, his voice dripping with poison.

He continues leading you down the halls of the castle, passing by guards and servants who give you curious looks. Soon, you find yourself in a part of the castle you're unfamiliar with. 

“The dungeons?” Your boots dig into the stone floor trying to pull yourself from his grasp, but he's merely too strong.

His smirk widens, eye glinting with dark amusement. "Very observant of you" he ridicules.

He leads you down a set of stone stairs, and the smell of damp stone and confinement becomes more intense. The air grows colder, and you find yourself in the dimly lit dungeons of the Red Keep. You shudder as you pass men’s intrepid eyes and womens weary faces  “so you do want to take me as a prisoner, and what leave me to rot till im begging for you?”

Aemond laughs at your words, his grip still firm on your wrists. He stops in front of a cell and pushes the door open. He shoves you into the cell and locks the door behind you, leaving you in the cold, damp darkness. He leaves without saying a word.

You sit there for what feels like hours, the only sound being the occasional clanking of chains and the faint cries from the other prisoners. You shiver in the cold, your knees to your chest, mind racing. Suddenly, you hear footsteps coming down the corridor. The light sound of boots on stone, and your heart starts to pound. Wondering whether he had come back already, you hear the drip of moisture from the stone ceiling.The footsteps draw closer, and you watch anxiously as a guard stands in front of your cell, followed by Aemond, who stands behind him, a smirk on his face. The guard unlocks the cell, and Aemond strides in, leaning against the wall. "Get up," he orders, his eye locked on you. You rise slowly with stiff legs. 

Aemond looks you up and down, his gaze hungry and predatory. "There, that's better," he says, his voice low. He steps closer to you, cornering you against the wall. His hand rises to your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek, you wretch your head back to avoid his touch.

"You look... messy," he says, his tone almost cruel. "Unkempt hair, dirt on your face. Not exactly a pretty picture" He leans in closer, his breath hot against your bare neck and then he turns suddenly, grabbing your wrists in his hands taking you out of the cell, "and clearly in need of a bath." 

Aemond leads you through a door and into what you only assume is his chamber, the scent of rosewater hangs in the air. In the centre of the room, a large steel tub is filled with steaming water. He pushes you towards the tub, his gaze dark and possessive. "Strip," he demands, his voice harsh and commanding. 

“Sorry?”

Aemond's eye narrows, "You heard me," he snaps, his voice cold. "Strip. Now."

He leans against the wall, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin shiver.

“Can you atleast turn?” You ask, biting your lip.

“No” 

You bite back a snarl and turn your back, Unlacing your dress quickly and then pulling off any undergarments. Aemond watches you intently, his eyes cutting into your back,

Your nipples harden at the chill in the air. Once you're completely undressed, he steps closer to you, his hand brushing against your bare shoulder. "Get in," he orders.

You sink into the hot water, feeling your muscles relax instantly, the smells of oils fill your nose but the knowledge that Aemond is watching you makes you feel uncomfortable, you pull your knees to your chest, wet hair surrounding your body. 

He moves closer, pulling up a stool, eye fixed on your frame. He reaches out a hand, running his fingers through a strand of wet hair that has fallen across your face. "You look better like this," he says, his voice low and raspy.

You flinch, swatting his hand away from your face. He runs his hand over your cheek and then suddenly your head is knocked back into another direction, your cheeks swells. Without warning, he grabs a fistfull of your hair, your chin rises upwards. 

“Don't test me, you're in my possession now. I can touch you however i please” He lets go of your hair, the back of his hand tracing the cheek he had just hit. 

Aemond stands up, grabbing a bar of lye soap and a cloth from a nearby table. He kneels down beside the bathtub, dunking the cloth into the water, and then lathering it up with the soap.He begins to slowly and methodically wash your body, his touch firm but surprisingly gentle. His eye watches your every reaction, taking in every shiver and flinch. You stare straight ahead. 

Aemond finishes washing your back and then moves to your legs, his hand gliding up your thigh, his touch sending shivers through your body. He pauses, his eye flicking to your face, his expression hard. "Do you trust me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No”

Aemond chuckles at your response, his smirk returning. "I didn't expect you to," he says, his tone mocking.

He runs the cloth over your legs, his hand moving higher, gliding up your inner thigh. His other hand snakes round your chest, moving to your shoulder, pinning you against the side of the tub.

“Stop!” you push against his hand but it only grips tighter against your shoulder, you feel the blood rush to the spot his fingers press into.

"I don't think so," he says.

His hand moves higher, and his fingers brush against the sensitive flesh between your legs. He looks at your expression, watching your face for any sign of fear or pleasure. You struggle against his grip, but it's useless, his strength is much greater than yours, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your skin.

“Please stop,” you cry out.

His hand continues to move slowly, his touch becoming more intimate.

Aemond looks at you with mock sympathy. "Please stop?" he repeats, his tone drenched in sarcasm. "You're so sweet when you beg like that." His grip on your shoulder tightens even further, and his hand moves higher, brushing against your most sensitive spot. "But I'm not going to stop," he says, his voice low and commanding.

He continues to move his hand slowly, his thumb pressing against you in a way that makes you gasp, you spite yourself. His eye is fixed on your face, watching your reactions closely.

"You might as well give in," he says, his voice soft and persuasive. "It will make things so much easier for you." 

His hand moves again, stroking you in a way that sends ripples of pleasure through your body, despite your attempts to resist. His body is fully pressed against yours now, his chest against your back, his breath hot on your neck. You struggle in his touch, holding back a moan. His hand from your shoulder moves to clasp around your neck. 

His hand moves faster now, his fingers and palm working in tandem to bring you to the edge. His other hand grips your throat, holding you in place, as he continues his assault on your senses. You try to hold back, biting back moans. He grins in your efforts, fingers working your clit faster, You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and Aemond can tell. His hand moves even faster, driving you towards the peak of ecstasy. “Just let go” he whispers against your neck.

“No!” you whine.

"Just let it happen.", it drives you to the brink of insanity, and you don't think you can hold back anymore, his thumb brushes against you, and everything you had been avoiding snaps, he feels you squirm underneath him, teary eyed, silent scream. He lets out a satisfied laugh. Fingers still moving against your skin, it begins to feel like too much. 

“Too much, please”

Aemond's hand finally slows, his touch becoming gentler as you come down from your high. He pulls away, standing up and watching you with a smug grin on his face, his fingers run against your closed mouth. “Open”

You shake your head at him, put his fingers into your mouth anyway, you gag, he laughs at the sound and pushes further into your mouth anyway, drool pools at the side of your mouth, he releases you with a wet pop and you slump into the side of the bath, watching his next move.

His hand moves down your neck, his fingers tracing over your collarbone, his touch leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. “Get dressed” he points to the clothes horse with a new gown on it laid out for you. 

He watches you stand and dry yourself with a cloth, Aemond watches you dress your back turning as you try to lace your dress together, he grabs your shoulders and makes quick work of pulling the string tighter,watching as you gasp for air you feel like you can barely breathe. Ribs collapsing in on themself. 

“Back to the dungeon then?’

He nods, Leading you back down to the dungeon. Through winding hallways. You reach the room you were once in. You stumble forward, Aemond shuts the cell door, the clanging echoing against the walls of your cell, he leaves you, room barren apart from the cot in the corner. You sit on the Cot, it feels as though the walls are closing in on you. You try to calm your breathing, but the realisation of what Aemond had done hits you more than anything. He had pulled pleasure apart from your body with ease. 

The hours pass slowly, you try to sleep but all you can do is toss on the straw mattress, by morning a guard throws a piece of bread in your cell. It hits the dirty floor, brown mud and flys encasing it, you don't eat it. And then more hours pass and the same thing happens, you chew at your nails. The candles burn slowly, a fly buzzes, the smells of sweat and dirt closes in on you. 

It feels like minutes and days, time is all muddled up, you’re asleep one moment and the next your fingers are encased with dirt and blood, people shout out and cry. The candles get replaced. You haven't spoken in so long, eating hasn't even crossed your mind yet takes toll on your body, you begin to dream of twisting shadows and watery lands, cities beneath the ocean, a skeleton pierced with a sword through the eye. 

It feels like months have passed, and you believe yourself to be going mad, the isolation has turned your thoughts wild, your beginning to lose your grip or reality, you pray to the old gods, begging on your knees to the guards who pass by, but the days pass as usual. 

You hook your hands around the rusted prison, reaching a hand out to still the guard making his rounds, he turns to you. He stops in his tracks, eyeing you cautiously."What do you want?" he asks, his voice gruff and filled with irritation.

Your throat feels raw and scratchy as you try to talk, only coming out in quiet whispers “please,I~ need” your throat feels like sand. 

The guard shakes his head and continues on his rounds, ignoring your pleas. You're left alone once again, tears prick at your eyes as you sink into the thin mattress, you wail.

The loneliness and despair seem to close in around you, suffocating you.

More weeks pass and you barely move in your cot, bloodied fingers tracing the wall. There's a set of footsteps that stop outside your cell, candle light casting a shadow on to the wall, it pulls you out of your daze. 

You sigh, the shadow moves closer to your cell, face obscured by the darkness. “Are you still alive there?” it is but a whisper, low and soft.

“Yes” you mutter, you shit in your cot, gazing up at the figure. 

“You dont look like you've eaten much” they peer down at you, the tight dress now hangs off your shoulder. You sit up. 

The man pushes back the hood of his cloak, uncovering his face, his hair bright white. You can see that he's wearing an eyepatch over one eye, and his expression is unreadable.

He looks at you for a moment, his gaze taking in your dishevelled, malnourished appearance.

“Aemond” you whisper, your voice crackles. 

His face softens, hand reaching through the bars to grab at your hand, you nearly flinch at the contact. He pauses, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Easy," he whispers, his voice low and soothing. "I'm not going to hurt you." 

You gaze up at him, he pulls out a key from under his cloak, unlocking the door.He steps inside. Standing there for a moment, his gaze fixed on you as you look up at him. "Can you stand?" he asks, his voice low and gentle.

You nod, Feeling like a newly born doe as you struggle to stand, legs buckling from under yourself, he reaches out and stills you, hand around your waist. He smells like old books and dragon fire. 

"It's alright," he says, his voice low and soothing. "I've got you."

“How long?” 

Aemond thinks for a second, he leads you out the cell slowly, steering you down the dungeons, he’s patient as you step up the steps slowly, his hand near your back for support. “Nearly three moons”  You nod at the revelation. He continues to guide you down the castle hallways.His steps slow, matching your pace. 

"You look terrible," he says, his voice blunt but not unkind. "Have they been feeding you?"

“Scraps of mouldy bread every morning” you bite your cheek.his grip tightens on your waist. “you left me down there” you cry, your lip wobbles. The corridors wind on until you find yourself in front of a big oak door. 

He speaks softly voice filled with a hint of regret. “I had too.” 

“Had too?” the knight opens the door, it creeks slightly, you walk inside books toppled over on chairs and tables, along with scrolls. The fire roars, a platter of food is laid out on the oak table. He guides you over on the bed in the corner. You let him fuss with your dress until you're in some kind of cotton nightgown, he touches you like your glass, He pours you a glass of water. You sip slowly. 

“You wanted me to break in there”

"Yes," he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted you to feel broken”,his hand runs tenderly across your face, you still yourself trying not to chase it with your cheek “And now look at you, like clay in my hands, mine to hold however i see fit” You look up at him with wet eyes, his thumb rubs gently over your cheek. He steps closer to you. He runs his thumb over your lips. “You must be hungry.”

You nod, He steps away, moving over to a table in the corner of the room where a tray of food has been set out. He picks up a plate and brings it back over to you, setting it down in your lap. “Eat” You eat slowly, picking part of cheese and meat. You find yourself filling up quickly.

“Are you tired?” 

Your head nods quickly, the thought of sleep is terrifying to you in such a big room. “You may sleep here.” He peels back the covers, taking the plate from your lap, you climb in, and he tucks the covers up to your neck. You feel exhaustion wash over you, although you're so close to him there's a sense of loneliness within you, you turn to your side. “Relax” he whispers.

“Can you hold me?” you stutter. 

Aemond seems surprised but you seem so desperate for human connection after so long he slides his arm under you, pulling you closer, you're pressed into his back tightly. He tries to soothe you, hand running through your hair, but it only knots. Your body grows less rigid as you begin to fall asleep in his arms. He watches you succumb to sleep, body growing limp. 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured IV

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Summary: Olga has the baby

Mami and Olga get pregnant a few months after your discussion. Olga moves in full time too and you get to be very helpful and do things like give her food or cuddle her on the sofa.

She gets very round very quickly and that confuses you until Mami points out it's because Olga's growing your baby brother or sister. Olga cries a lot too and everyone blames that on hormones but can't actually really give you an explanation about what hormones are so you're not entirely sure why but giving her cuddles and kisses seems to make her not cry as much so you do that.

Soon enough though, the crying stops and she can move around properly again because she's had your baby brother.

He's kind of ugly, you think when you first see him. He's all red and wrinkly and he cries all the time. Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night because he's crying and look through the gap between your door and the frame to see Mami and Olga get up to soothe him.

He's named after Abuelo, who you've never met because he died before you were born. Baby Jaume is alright sometimes when he's quiet and when he first came home, Mami took a lot of pictures of your holding him and put most of them up in the house somewhere.

Jaume was fun to have at the start. He did silly things like not being able to hold up his head or puke all down Tia Alba's back when they first met.

Now though, the allure of Jaume has dimmed a little.

He's just there now, just another person in your life that you didn't quite understand.

"There he is," Mami coos as soon as she comes in the door, arms already out to pick up the baby.

Something icky makes your tummy hurt when she picks him and completely bypasses you on her way to the kitchen where Olga's cleaning up from lunch.

You hadn't eaten much, just a few bites of your sandwich, but Jaume had spit up some of his milk again so Olga was washing everything again.

You wait a little bit for Mami to notice her mistake, to notice you, but she doesn't. You can hear her laughing in the kitchen with Olga and Jaume.

You look back at your trains, dropping them as you wedge yourself under the coffee table.

Maybe when Mami can't find you anywhere, she'll notice you again.

The carpet is a little rough under your cheek but you're determined to stay where you are so Mami can find you like she did when you were much littler.

She never does though because you lay there for a long while.

Jaume is crying again. You can hear him and that makes you not want to leave your hidey hole either. Everyone goes to Jaume if he cries even if Mami is already holding him.

He cries and he cries and he cries and you cry too, hidden under the table as you wait for Mami to come find you.

You wished that she wanted to see you as much as she wanted to see Jaume. She's always smiling at him and giving him kisses and cuddles.

You get your bedtime kiss at the end of the day but that's it. Mami's busy at work and Olga's busy with Jaume and you wish you weren't here anymore.

You sniffle, more tears rolling down your cheeks even as Jaume's stop.

Mami and Olga are talking at him, you can hear them. They talk to Jaume a lot even though he can't talk back. You wished they'd talk to you more.

Sometimes, if Jaume is very good, Mami will sit with you and read you a bedtime story. If Jaume isn't very good, she sends you to bed without one because it's more important that Jaume learns to be good instead of reading you your bedtime story.

Like today.

You know you won't get a bedtime story today because all Jaume seems to do is cry.

You don't see Mami much the day after too. She goes to training before you wake up and you spend most of the day at nursery so you don't see her when she comes home for lunch too.

You don't go to nursery a lot, especially not now that Jaume is born but you go often enough that Mami and Olga shouldn't forget you.

But they do.

You sit in the office, fighting back tears as the woman hurriedly goes through everyone in your contact book. Mami and Olga have never been late to pick you up before.

You clutch a picture in your hand. You did painting today and you did one of you and Mami and Olga and baby Jaume. You want to show Mami and Olga and put it up on the fridge when you get home but the sky is getting darker and you're still waiting for someone to collect you.

Your bottom lip wobbles and you start to cry.

You're good at crying quietly now. One time you started to cry loudly at the same time as Jaume and Mami yelled at you. She apologised afterwards, saying that she was stressed and sorry but you haven't cried loudly since.

You're still crying when the door opens.

You wish it was Mami or even Miss Olga but it's not.

Tia Alba pulls you into a hug.

"We couldn't get in contact with Alexia or Olga," The reception woman says solemnly.

"Right, yes," Tia Alba says, shaking her head," I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm sure there was just a miscommunication. I'll sort it out."

Tia Alba drives you home but it's dark.

There's no Mami or Miss Olga waiting for you.

"I...I drew a picture," You say softly, holding it up for Tia Alba to see," The teacher said to draw a picture of our families, so I did."

"It's beautiful, bambi," Tia Alba assures you," Very pretty. Shall we put it on the fridge?"

The fridge is different now. It used to be full of a lot of your paintings but it's mostly bare now. There's a big picture of Miss Olga and Mami at the very centre with baby Jaume a few hours after he was born.

Tia Alba hands you a magnet and you put your picture on the side of the fridge, away from the picture.

"When is my Mami coming home?" You ask.

"Soon," Tia Alba says though she glances uncertainly at the door," Hey, how about we play with your new trains?"

You shake your head. "I don't have new trains."

"What? Of course you do! Your Mami gets you a new train every week!"

You shake your head again. "Mami's busy now. I've got my old trains. Are we still allowed to play even if it's with my old ones?"

"Of course, bambi. Why don't you set up the track?"

You do so gladly and wait for Tia Alba as she speaks quickly into the phone. She turns on the tv for background noise as you both play a train game, loading and unloading resources into the back and making them zoom across the track.

There's a Barcelona match playing.

Mami plays for Barcelona. It's the very end and the team is celebrating, holding up a trophy and cheering. Mami's got the trophy in one hand and baby Jaume in the other.

"Mami isn't coming home soon," You say plainly, staring at the tv as someone takes a picture of Jaume sitting in the cup.

"Bambi-"

You look back at your trains. "I...I don't want my painting up on the fridge anymore."

"Are you sure, bambi? I'm sure your Mami will be very happy to see it there."

Mami is on the screen again, smiling with Miss Olga and baby Jaume.

"I don't want the picture anymore," You say, getting up and pushing away your trains," You should put it in the bin, Tia."

"Are you sure?" Tia Alba takes it down from the fridge and gives it to you. "But it's so pretty."

You rip it straight down the middle. "It's not real." You shut yourself in your room, pushing as many of your things behind it so Alba can't get in.

She can't get you to come out either, no matter what she promises or how much she begs. She had been getting ready for a night out with her friends when she'd got the call from your nursery teacher saying that no one had come to pick you up.

She had assumed that Alexia and Olga were running late until there had been an update on the Barcelona Instagram proclaiming that the team were meeting their youngest teammate.

You'd been withdrawn the moment she saw you. The most excited you got was when showing her your drawing and even calling that excitement was pushing it.

You'd been on the verge of shutting down for a while now but Alba can't even get into the room you've barricaded and it's all so much worse.

"Alba?" Alexia says in amusement," Why are you sitting on the floor?"

It's been hours since you originally hidden yourself away in your room. You've put yourself to bed with no bath and no dinner and Alba just sees red.

The last time she put hands on Alexia was when they were kids and Alexia had thrown her favourite playdoh colour over the fence. She could probably count the days it's been since an actual physical fight but the counter goes back down to zero the moment she shoves Alexia against the wall.

"You selfish fuck!" She says," God, I thought you were better than this!"

"Hey! Get off! What the hell?! I haven't done anything!"

"Exactly! You haven't done anything! I hope you're happy! I hope showing off your son and winning trophies is worth it!"

"Alba, what are you going on about? Are you drunk? Get off!"

"Because you're never seeing that little girl again!"

Alexia freezes like someone's just injected ice into her veins. She looks around Alba's head. Your bedroom is door shut.

"What are you talking about? Bambi? You can't take Bambi!"

"Oh, so you do know who she is? I'd say better late than never but I don't think it really applies!"

Alexia's confused. "What's going on? What's wrong with Bambi?"

"God." Alba bursts into uncontrollable laughter. "Have you always been this stupid? What's wrong with Bambi? How about you ask where Bambi was all day? Where was Bambi while you were showing Jaume off to your team and winning another stupid medal?"

Alexia thinks it over for a moment. "Oh."

"Oh," Alba mocks, face twisting up into a sneer as she shoves Alexia back into the wall again," She drew you a picture today, you know. You and her and Olga and Jaume."

"I..."

"Don't bother trying to look for it. She says that it's a lie and I can see why."

"Get off!" Alexia shoves her back, going to turn your door handle but it just won't open. She swears. She'd taught you how to put your chair under the handle in case an intruder ever broke in and how to push all of your belongings up against it in case the chair ever fell.

She knocks on the door.

"Bambi? Bambi, baby, open the door."

There's no answer and she knocks louder.

"Bambi! Come on. Open the door for Mami. I'm...I'm really excited to see your picture. Why don't we put it on the fridge, huh? Wouldn't that be fun?"

There's still nothing and Alexia feels herself grow a bit more desperate when Olga comes around the corner with Jaume.

"What's going on?" She asks.

Alexia can't answer as she slams her fist against your door, rattling the door handle.

"I'll be back tomorrow at midday," Alba says to Olga," Make sure she's got overnight clothes packed."

Alexia can't even hear her, desperate to force the door open.

"Bambi, please!"

[kisakis-boyfriend]

I had a cute scenario for bennett. during an adventure, he tries to crawl through a hole in a wall, but gets stuck. and of course, reader decides to have some fun with the unlucky adventurer...

Pairings: Bennett x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Bennett, adult Bennett, noncon

Poor little guy, all he wanted was to see if there was anything hidden inside the small opening — perhaps his bad luck wouldn't plague him today and there would be some treasure inside!

Alas, his bad luck struck again, trapping him in this tight space with no way out. He was now painfully wedged halfway inside of some ruins, with his rear end sticking out towards all of Teyvat.

Who knows how long he'd been in there — perhaps an hour, two hours, longer, or a mere few minutes — before some stranger came across the sight of his lower half jutting out. All of the muffled shouting and kicking as much as he could finally caught someone's attention!

But when he felt the strange sensation of something groping his ass cheeks, Bennett's heart immediately sank down to his stomach. The pair of large hands reached around for his belt buckle, sliding his pants off tantalizingly slowly; making sure to feel him up as they went along.

Of course you had no intentions of letting him out; lady luck smiled upon you today, presenting you with such a wonderful gift! You couldn't let that go to waste, now could you?

No, no, no. How lucky indeed for you to find the perfect little toy, trapped and vulnerable. He couldn't get away even if he wanted to, nor could he attract any unwanted attention by screaming either.

So, with nothing else in the way, you groped his soft, exposed flesh with eager hands, inching closer and closer towards the adventurer's hole.

Imagine Bennett's surprise when he suddenly felt something push inside — he's sure it was just your finger, but still; he's not used to anything in there at all!

The adventurer's muscle tightened around your finger, and his pitiful cries of confusion reached your ears even through the stone surrounding him. Relishing in each and every reaction you pulled from him, you continued to work your finger in and out, eventually adding a second finger.

Bennett's eyes rolled back briefly when you hit his prostate — a sensation that stole the air from his lungs and brought stars to his vision in tandem. The gravel underneath his palms began to cut into his skin as he balled them into fists.

How beautiful was the noise that your fun, new toy made when you pressed your hard-on in between his cheeks. When he realized what was going to happen next.

He really didn't have much dignity at the moment; being as trapped and exposed as he was, but when your cock slid inside, burning a bit as it entered, and when you drawled out a “Gooood fuckin' boy” as it slid in, Bennett felt so much shame.

As if being violated like this wasn't bad enough, Bennett had to shake his head as his thoughts became clouded with lust. This felt... good. Really, really good. A stranger was fucking him from behind and Bennett couldn't figure out why he was moaning in pleasure — as if he wanted this!

Some strange man's cock is inside of his ass and he fucking likes it.

The faster you go, the more Bennett sinks to the ground. Eventually, his cheek is touching the ground, and his hips are only held up by your hands. You notice how — in this new position he's taken — there seems to be more space around his body...

A little dazed noise leaves Bennett's lips as he's slid backwards, too out of it to realize what happened.

Warm, sticky liquid hits his back, his butt, and his hole, sliding down his skin, and the presence that was once felt behind him disappeared, leaving the adventurer alone — too dazed to conceptualize his returned freedom.

[seat-safety-switch]

Yeah, I worked on The Machine. And, as I pried open its secret compartments and loosened its wiring harness and decrypted its memories, it worked on me also. Deep within its many hidden copses lay immense knowledge, unknown to all but those who formed it. Who built The Machine? No one knows. Everyone knows. I know. Now that The Machine works again, the person who last built it was me.

For years, I was a humble regular home-gamer mechanic. Something around the house would break. For the sake of argument, we'll use as an example the time my microwave blew up when I opened the door. One morning, it just went pop and never worked again. Well, at least until I fixed it. It turns out that the door had a little microswitch inside, and that microswitch got gummy with aerosolized food goo. Because it was gummed up, it wouldn't switch the computer off in time when I opened the door. That would be dangerous: I could get a full face shot of microwaves from the still-running magnetron. A safety interlock fired, and blew the brains out of the big fuse controlling the magnetron. It died for me. Replacing the switch, and the fuse, brought that microwave back to life. I did many such repairs. I was not prepared for this repair.

Fix after fix, I built up my confidence, and I got cockier. I'd pull broken machines out of the trash, mysterious foreign computers from another country. Some things escaped my grasp, and slipped further into oblivion. Most, though: most, I pulled back from the brink, and forced them to live again. That's when I found The Machine.

It was beautiful, intricate: thousands of parts, wedged together tighter than I had ever seen before, and a cryptic fault at the centre of it. When you cram together this much stuff, the complexity doesn't just add: it multiplies. To aid me, I looked for a guide, a factory service manual. The manufacturer laughed. The manufacturer's representative laughed. Someone who made it, who I tracked down on LinkedIn, hung up on me and refused to answer his door when I visited. Weeks later, he was gone, "dead" in a suspiciously convenient accident, a body left behind at the edge of his bleach-washed property with no identifying marks or fingerprints. I got the message: I was on my own.

This little wire just came unplugged. I guess someone must have dropped it. All better now.

[lizardkingeliot]

I took a ton of notes during my rewatch of 2x07 just now but the thing I kept coming back to again and again was Armand's framing of the entire narrative and how it plays with truth vs lies in such an insidious way it's honestly brilliant in its cruelty. Truth being used as a cudgel not only against Louis, but against Lestat as well. And against, us, the viewers at home.

We obviously all know Armand is a very powerful 500 year old vampire who is not going to be held back by an infant of a vampire like Santiago. Like… Armand. Babe. Let’s get real. But that’s the narrative set-up. The coven, now being led by Santiago, has Armand captive behind his little rickety baby gate with Sam and his prop weapon not letting the puppy come out to play. He cannot prevent it! Poor baby. Someone get him a juice box and a snack.

Enter Lestat. The vengeful lover come to make Louis and Claudia pay for what they did to him. What's interesting here is that everyone—Daniel, Louis, Armand—acknowledges in Dubai that the trial IS a sham from the beginning. A tool to allow Lestat his revenge. But the truth of why it's actually a sham is being hidden behind a thousand layers of gaslighting and deceit by Armand. Lestat is merely another prop on the stage. Being forced to use the TRUTH of his love story with Louis—and to twist essential elements of their beginning as a couple—as a weapon to drive the final wedge between them so that Armand might have Louis all to himself. That's what this is about. A farce so that Armand might have what he wants more than anything in the world. Someone who will be with him always. Without Claudia, without Lestat... who else is there for Louis to run to?

The trial as we see it is told mostly through Louis' POV. It seems to be a true picture of how it all happened but the cognitive dissonance watching him try to reconcile what Lestat was doing on the stage with the framing provided by Armand (who cuts in frequently to assure us that Lestat shapes things to suit HIS narrative) is painful. Louis sees and feels and hears the sincerity of Lestat. A Lestat who is defiant from the jump and refuses to paint the story as butchery. It's about LOVE. It is always always always about the love. An entire sham trial about vengeance and murder framed around... love.

Everyone who's familiar with the books already knows Lestat didn't want to be there. I won't go into that too much but the show did a good job of showing us just how unwell Lestat was during the entire process. But there are also some really interesting moments where we are TOLD explicitly through Louis' recounting of the events that Lestat was not actually there for revenge. Namely, the moment when Lestat says HE deserves to be punished alongside them. These are not the words of someone who is seeking vengeance. These are the words of someone desperately rattling the bars of his own cage trying everything he can to prevent what's happening. Because unlike a certain someone, in that moment Lestat is quite literally unable to prevent it!

The entire episode is Louis trying to reconcile the conflicting truths that exist inside him: that Lestat was there for revenge, that Armand couldn't prevent the coven from exacting their cruelty, and that the Lestat who was on stage WAS sincere and emotional and fighting with everything he had to let the truth ring as true as it was when he was able. He refused to refer to Louis as the accused every time Santiago insisted on it. He would only refer to Louis by name. He would NOT allow the narrative to frame him as someone who didn't also do monstrous things to his lover. He was weeping and flooded with shame. Sincerely, genuinely remorseful for the awful thing he had done to Louis.

There's also something else here about Lestat acknowledging he tried to crush what he could not own vs Armand deceiving Louis into the false sense of control that is the entire basis for their relationship. Owning something he does not crush, merely confines. He's not crushing Louis with insanity, he's locking him inside his prison of empathy. He quite literally has Louis locked in a cage while allowing him to believe he's truly free. Free from the insanity of Lestat. Evil, vengeful, gaslighting Lestat who only uses the truth to shape the narrative for himself.

There's a lot more going on here. I can't possibly get it all out of my brain right now and I imagine I'm going to be picking apart the nuances for a while. There are so many layers. The truth vs lies vs intentional reshaping of the truth of it all. But if you rewatch, pay attention to Armand's face, the score that accompanies his recounting of events, the passive way in which he holds his body in both Paris and Dubai. He's locking Louis in a dream world where the truth is present in such a way it only serves to amplify its own distortion. I don't even think he's fucking with Louis' memory all that much, just framing it in such a way that Louis cannot see past what is right there in front of him. What he already knows. If only he had just a few more tiny pieces of the puzzle...

But he's trying to get there. He is getting there. The truth of Lestat is breaking though. Lestat is still present there with him in Dubai, as real as if he were really in the room. After 74 years, Louis can still recall every detail of his face, still smile at him recalling the truth of his memories. The truth he wouldn't allow himself to look at all the way. The truth he himself had to distort for his own sake because it hurt too much. He's allowing himself to see not only the truth of himself and his own actions, but the truth of Lestat. All the complicated, sincere truth of him. The truth of the one who truly could not prevent it.

[morbiderotica]

Hii! Can i pls request a Light x reader nsfw? You know the scenes where L planted a camera in his room right? Well maybe to make L less suspicious of him Light fucks the reader in his room? I thought that it was a hot idea♡ you dont have to do it if you dont want to😊

★ DECEPTION ─ fem!reader

#NOTES ─ i love you for requesting this i cannot tell you how many times i've day dreamed about this (sorry it took so long)

#WARNINGS ─ smut, cnc peeping toms (L), p in v,

#SUMMARY ─ "there was an elaborate plan set in place. but as soon as light's hands snaked around your waist you seemed to forget everything you were supposed to do and say." innocent until proven guilty

there was an elaborate plan set in place. but as soon as light's hands snaked around your waist you seemed to forget everything you were supposed to do and say. his moderately chapped lips kissing your cheek lovingly. much unlike how light usually behaved around you.

"light." his name left your lips, trying to warn him he'd made your mind go blank. but he knew.

"i know." he whispered back, displeasure laced in his voice. luckily, light was more than capable of carrying out the plan for the both of you.

"just let me do all the work." he muttered, his voice not loud enough to be picked up on by the mics on the camera but still he was careful with what he said.

he hoped you would be too. you nodded. looking up at light with a lustful look in your eye that he couldn't deny was making him a little aroused. light kissed your jaw, roughly. as if light was capable of doing anything without roughness.

"last chance to back out." it's not a soft tone, but it does let you know that he won't be mad at you if you do decide you don't want some random creep watching you have sex with your friend.

you shake your head, you weren't going to let him down now. and to be totally honest, the thought of someone watching you in such a vulnerable position was intriguing to say the least. light began to undress you once you'd given him your final consent.

meanwhile, L watched his screen with wider eyes than normal. his eyes grazing every pixel of the screen as he watched light take off your shirt. neglecting the other screens that were broadcasting equally, if not more, important information. L racked his brain trying to figure out if this was just a trick of if he was really witnessing this dirty scene play out.

all your clothes were off in what seemed like a blink of an eye. pressed into the mattress with light's knee inches away from your heated core. you dumbly pull at his tie, fucked out expression but light hadn't even gotten started with you yet.

"you got any thoughts in there at all?" he smirks. silently gloating now that he knew he had every single person he knew wrapped around his godly finger. there was not a thought behind your blown out pupils. it prided light to know he had such an effect on you.

"i haven't even done anything yet." he furthers. and L was hearing all of it.

you paw at the waist band of his bland khaki pants. light chuckled feeling your shaky hands trying to get more of him. his rubs his hand over your chest, caressing your nipple with his pointer and thumb.

"patient girls get rewarded." he tsks. he's met with a whine to which he chuckles again. he knows L will over analyze and find something wrong with the scenario if he doesn't hurry up.

"you wanna get rewarded?" he unbuttons his pants with one hand. you're eager, desperate. you need hm in a way you didn't even know it was possible to want one of your friend.

he reaches over you, grabbing a condom from the book shelf. it was wedged between two books. clearly he was trying to keep it hidden from his maid of a mom and his nosy sister.

he opens the condom with his teeth and you might as well just have hearts in your eyes as you watch him. the wrapper falls somewhere unimportant on the bed. he rolls the condom on. you knew it was only a matter of time before you finally felt full with his cock.

© 2023 MORBIDEROTICA

[pucksandpower]

if requests are open, can I pls request baby vettel telling her brothers (the grid kids) she has a "boyfriend" when she comes home from kindergarten one day ??? if requests are closed, please ignore 💗 love your works so much !!

Grid Kids: Cooties

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids take being big brothers very seriously

Series Masterlist

“No.”

Max’s voice is firm, his face aghast.

Charles, sitting next to him, nods in agreement. “I thought we agreed that you’re not allowed to date until you’re 40?”

Your daughter looks up from her crayon artwork, her little brows furrowing. “But Tommy said we’re boy ... boyfr …”

Lance interrupts, “Boyfriend and girlfriend? No, no, no. Absolutely not.”

George chimes in, holding up a toy car, “Tell whoever this Tommy is that you’re too busy racing to have a boyfriend.”

Lando adds, “Besides, boyfriends mean cooties. Do you want cooties?”

She tilts her head, pondering the dire consequences of these so-called cooties.

Charles, trying to be the voice of reason, kneels down to her level. “Sweetie, you’re a smart, wonderful little girl. And Tommy is, well ... you can do better.”

Mick, watching the entire exchange, laughs. “Guys, she’s just a kid. They’re probably just sharing crayons.”

Lando looks scandalized, “Crayons today, hearts tomorrow. It’s a slippery slope!”

Sebastian, watching the overprotective madness unfold, turns to you with a smirk, “I think our daughter has a solid set of bodyguards.”

You laugh, wrapping an arm around him. “Good luck to any actual future boyfriends.”

Your daughter simply shrugs, scribbles something on a piece of paper, and hands it to Charles. “For Tommy.”

Charles reads aloud, “We can be friends. But no cooties. Okay?”

***

The next day after school, Max bends down to your daughter’s eye level, “Now, which one is Tommy?”

She points a tiny finger to a little boy playing with a toy car on the playground. He has sandy hair and an innocent expression as he makes car noises.

Lando claps his hands together, “Alright, mates, game faces.”

George rolls his eyes but can’t help his grin, “Really? We’re really doing this?”

Lance nudges him, “We have to ensure he’s good enough for our sister!”

As the grid kids approach Tommy, he looks up, wide-eyed at the small army of grown-ups marching towards him.

Charles squats down, “Hey there, buddy. You Tommy?”

Tommy nods slowly, clutching his toy car.

George, leaning down too, tries to sound stern, “We heard you’re, uh, dating our sister.”

Lando, animatedly acting out air quotes around the word dating, adds, “We just wanted to have a quick chat.”

Mick, clearly finding the whole situation hilarious, jumps in, “You know, about intentions and all.”

Tommy blinks, “Inten-what?”

Max clears his throat, “Look, Tommy, we just want to make sure you’re treating our sister right. No stealing her toys or snacks.”

Lando jumps in again, “And absolutely no cooties. We had a long talk about that.”

Tommy nods fervently, “I don’t have cooties!”

Charles chuckles, “Good to know. So, you’ll play nice with her?”

Tommy nods again, “I promise. I just wanted to show her my new car.” He holds up the toy proudly.

George pats him on the head awkwardly, “Alright, Tommy. Just remember, we’re watching you.”

***

“Operation Sneaky Sneak is a go. Over,” Lando whispers dramatically into his walkie-talkie from his hiding spot behind a bush.

“Copy that,” George responds, trying to peer into Tommy’s living room window from a tree branch, “They’re ... playing with dolls? Oh, and there are some cookies. Over.”

Lance, hidden behind a garden gnome, chimes in, “I hope they're chocolate chip. Over.”

Charles, from his spot on top of a garden shed, adds, “No visual on any suspicious activities. Just some Barbies about to get the worst haircut of their life. Over.”

Mick, wedged between two trash cans, mutters, “Feels like we’re in a bad spy movie.”

Max, crouching behind a car, counters, “Feels? We ARE in a bad spy movie.”

Suddenly, the back door to Tommy’s house swings open and out step his parents, chatting and laughing. The grid kids freeze.

George, panicking, whispers into the walkie-talkie, “Abort mission! I repeat, abort!”

Lance tries to slink away, “Going dark! Going dark! We have been compromised.”

But it’s too late. Tommy’s mother spots them. “Um, gentlemen? What are you doing?”

Charles attempts to play it cool, “Oh, you know, just ... birdwatching. Beautiful sparrows around here.”

Tommy’s father suppresses a grin, “In our backyard? With walkie-talkies?”

Lando, thinking on his feet, responds, “Modern birdwatching. Very high tech. Over.”

Mick gives him a look, “Did you seriously just say over out loud?”

Max tries to salvage the situation, “We just wanted to ensure the playdate went ... smoothly.”

Tommy’s parents burst into laughter. “You guys really care about her, huh?”

Before anyone can respond, there’s a rustling from above. Thunk! “Ow!” Thwack! “Not the face!” Crash! “My hair!”

Everyone’s attention is immediately drawn to George who has dramatically fallen out of the tree, hitting almost every branch on the way down.

Rubbing his back, George groans from where he’s splayed on the ground, “Guess I should leave the climbing to the kids.”

Tommy’s mother takes pity on the fully grown children masquerading as adults in front of her, “Would any of you like to come in for juice boxes?”

The grid kids exchange sheepish glances. “Yes, please,” they reply in unison.