#all i want is a friend and even that i have found is getting muddled up in school

[bbydoll18xx]

She’s Such a Good Girl (Part 2)

Paige continues her assault on your innocence, leading you to spiral.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Themes: angst in the beginning, Paige being hot and flirty the rest of it woohoo, mentions of being horny oops

Part 1 - You move in across the hall from Paige Bueckers. It doesn’t take long before she tries to shatter your innocent persona. And you just let her.

Masterlist

A/N: I’m so, so grateful for all the love on the first part of this little mini series. Let me know if you are up for a third part:)) I have soo many ideas it's ridiculous

~

You wake up feeling anything but well rested. Your sleep was muddled with dreams of Paige, her smile infiltrating your unconsciousness until you woke up with an uncomfortable stickiness in between your thighs. You groan into your pillow, the general overwhelmingness of last night draining you even more.

Grabbing your phone from your bedside table, you see a text from Paige, and the butterflies erupt inside of you once more. 

‘We’re all planning on going out tonight. You’re coming with us.’

Her bluntness momentarily stuns you, but you were grateful to be included. It seemed she was hell bent on getting you out of your shell, for whatever reason, and you were simply just going to concede. You needed this.

You respond, your heart beating out of your chest, and the anxiety begins to set in. 

It was getting harder and harder to deny the gay feelings you had. And although it had been years since your “oh shit, I’m gay,” moment had dawned on you, this was reaching new heights of awareness. But you had refused to truly accept it thus far.

You had a complicated relationship with your sexuality. Most of the time you had shied away from even acknowledging it; it was too painful. In high school, you were surrounded by other gay people, and it felt like you almost belonged, slowly coming to terms with your sapphism. But as you moved away to college, you were the only one in your friend group who was even a little remotely queer, and you felt isolated by your glaring differences. 

Your religious upbringing did not help the situation either. You quickly learned how to hide your emotions. Slurs were regularly thrown around the dinner table, the nasty words cutting into your being, and your fists would be tightening in your lap, fighting to keep a neutral expression on your face.

You could not give yourself away.

As soon as you could, you’d seek solace in your room, hot, shameful tears sliding down your cheeks, forcing yourself to quiet the sobs erupting through your chest. The words of contempt echoed through your mind, until eventually you had nearly come to believe them yourself. 

Each evening you clasped your hands together desperately in prayer, vehemently struggling with everything you had been raised to know and everything you wanted and needed to feel. It was an eternal battle that raged on inside, slowly withering you into a ghost, haunted by the darkness that had flourished in the absence of support and acceptance.

You wondered what the people who had claimed to love and know you the most, would do if they found out about your dirty, little secret. The anxieties about being outed manifested in cruel dreams, awakening you suddenly, a thin layer of sweat glistening on your body as your chest rose and fell in quick staccato breaths. 

That was something you still wondered today. And you would certainly wonder for the rest of your life. You had vowed that you would never come out to your family unless you truly fell in love with a girl. So you had kept everyone at arm's length to protect yourself. But Paige Bueckers was slowly breaking your walls down, brick by brick. 

A wave of nausea washes over you as you realize that getting closer to Paige meant toying the line of the false heteronormative persona you’ve been carefully crafting since you were a young teenager. The temptation of feeling normal in a group of girls quickly shuts down any immediate worries. That was a problem for another time. 

You hear your roommates in the living room, bustling around without having any idea of your internal battle. With a sigh, you drag yourself out of bed to go out to meet them, already preparing for the deafening noises that would inevitably come with telling them of last night's events. 

You open your door, nearly shuffling your feet against the carpet as you walk out to greet Taylor and Sarah. Their heads turn from the focus on the television, faces set in smiles as they see you emerge from your room.

“Guess what I did last night?” You prompt them, and their faces morph into ones of natural curiosity. 

“Did you read your class syllabuses to get a head start?” Sarah asks sarcastically, and you stick your tongue out at her in false derision. 

“No,” you scoff, although her guess was not completely off base. “I went over and hung out with Paige and the rest of the team.”

Taylor and Sarah were uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. They glanced at each other, momentarily stunned before erupting in hollers, jumping to their feet in excitement. 

“How the fuck did that happen?” Taylor all but yells, still jumping up and down. It was a good thing you did not have downstairs neighbors.

“Well they were being so loud, and I wanted to go to bed, so I knocked on the door to politely ask them to shut up,” you explain, trying to hide the giddiness you felt as you recalled the events of last night.

“And Paige answered and invited me in. And now I’m going out with her and the team tonight,” you finish, carefully watching the reactions of your two best friends. 

Their faces were morphed into ones of sheer delight and astonishment.

“My innocent, little angel is growing up,” Taylor exclaims, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye, and you swat at her, giggling at the sheer hilarity of the situation.

“What am I supposed to wear to a bar?” You ask, and the girls shriek in laughter, clapping their hands and promising to help you get dressed later.

You feel better about everything, the support from your roommates briefly quelling the fears and uncertainties that had plagued your mind for years. And your excitement was a testimony to the effect a certain blonde had on you.

~

“You’ve got great tits. Might as well show them off,” Sarah says exasperatedly, shoving one of her low cut tops at you.

Your face heats up, and you hold up the tiny tank top. “Don’t you think it’s a little, I don’t know, slutty?” Your voice trails to a whisper as you think about purposely showing off your body. 

“That’s the point, girl! It’s finally your time to show everyone what you’re fucking made of. Go be a sexy, bad bitch!” Taylor urges, slapping you on the butt as she does.

You take a deep breath, nodding in agreement, finally pushing yourself further away from the perfect, good girl act that had been placed upon you since you were a child. 

You don the skimpy black tank, admiring the way it shows off your slim waist, and you pair it with tight jeans that accentuate the curve of your ass perfectly. You fluff your hair and add a layer of lip gloss, before taking one last long glance in the mirror.

You could do this.

With a few encouraging words from your roommates and a few slaps to your ass, you nervously make your way across the hall to knock once more on Paige’s door. The door is thrown open, loud cheers erupting as you appear, and KK launches herself at you excitedly, throwing her arms around you and pulling you into her. 

Giggling, you hug her back, your nerves melting away at her friendly disposition. She pulls away, eyeing you up and down with an approving nod. “Someone cooked here,” she smirks, and your face blooms an embarrassing shade of deep red.

“My roommates kind of helped me get dressed,” you admit, hands tugging down your impossibly small shirt. 

“Girl, you look fineee,” she says, rubbing her hands together, causing several of the other girls to cackle at her not so subtle attempt to rizz you up.

“Who looks fine?” you hear a familiar voice, and your head whips in the direction of the question. You see Paige sauntering towards you, and your heart immediately begins to pound as your eyes rake over her tall figure. 

Her hair was down in blonde waves, making you want to reach out and run your hand through the soft-looking locks. Her toned stomach was exposed from her crop top, her abs flashing in a way that had your stomach rolling with an unfamiliar feeling. You couldn’t necessarily put your finger on it, but it shot down in an intense display of unbridled want. And she had the smuggest look on her face, accentuating the plumpness of her bottom lip. Your tongue subconsciously darts out to lick a slow line against your own lip as you watch her approach you.

KK points at you, waggling her eyebrows. “The pretty princess over here.” 

You blush again. Shit, you really had to get that under control. 

Paige hums, looking you up and down once more. “She’s not wrong,” she mutters huskily in your ear as she pulls you in for a hug. Your knees weaken at her touch, and you aren't sure if you’d be able to survive the night. It had just begun, and she had you completely and irrevocably fucked. 

30 minutes later, you, Paige, and the other members of UCONN’s women’s basketball team were shuffling into several ubers to head to a nearby bar. Unsure of which car to get into, you awkwardly stand off to the side, the anxiety pumping through your veins once more, but you soon feel a muscular arm wrap around your waist.

Looking up, you are met with Paige’s blue eyes and that smug smirk, and with a wink, she guides you to the nearest car, helping you into the backseat. As you sit, you adjust your top, overly aware of how much of your chest was actually out. Paige sits next to you, settling in with a low grunt, and she immediately places a hand on your thigh. Your eyes focus on the veins and the length of her fingers, and that feeling in your belly ignites again. 

As you arrive at the bar, Paige helps you out of the car with a chivalrous hand. And it does not leave yours as you enter the doors. She laces her fingers through yours, and you don’t miss the way it feels so damn right. She guides you through the crowds of people, and your breath hitches, feeling slightly overwhelmed from the volume and the hoards of drunk people pushing into your frame. 

Paige notices immediately, and she pulls you closer, tucking you into her side protectively. You preen at the attention, the feeling so foreign but addictive. You needed more, and the idea of it ripped away from you sent an unsettling spike of dread shooting through you maliciously. 

Subtly, you shake your head in a futile attempt to clear the thoughts out of your head. Overthinking was sure to be your downfall. Nothing a little alcohol couldn’t fix, though.

Aside from the occasional glass of wine, you had never really drank. And you certainly had never done shots. But when Nika and Aubrey had thrusted a tray of them towards where you and Paige were sitting, you were quick to grab one, eager to dull the bitter voices in your head. 

You bring it to your face, taking a hesitant sniff that causes your nose to wrinkle, eliciting a fond chuckle from the blonde. “Do I just sip it or…?” You trail off shyly, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous you sounded. What kind of college girl didn’t know how to take a shot?

Paige bites her lip. “Lemme help you, baby,” she mutters in your ear, and she takes the shot out of your hand. “Breathe all of the air out and then swallow it all at once before you take another breath, okay?” 

You nod, letting the air leave your mouth, lips pouting. Without her gaze leaving your mouth, Paige holds up the shot glass, pouring the liquid down your throat in a swift motion. 

You swallow quickly, feeling the burn slide down your throat and settle into a warm pool in your belly. You lick your lips, trying to catch a tiny drop that had slid past your mouth and trailed down your chin towards your neck. 

Before you can chase the trickle, Paige leans in, swiping it with her thumb, placing it into her mouth and sucking, her cheeks hollowing in the process. 

Your face morphs into a look of shock, and she gives you a shit-eating grin. The effect she had on you was something out of a book you spent many lonely nights immersing yourself in. And now that you were living in the crystal clear reality, you regretted not getting out of your shell a little sooner. 

“Can I do another?” You ask, already looking at the tray where a few shots still remained. 

Paige laughs. “Maybe wait a few, princess. The alcohol will kick in soon,” she promises. “You can share mine,” she gestures to her drink, and you don’t miss the way the pet name rolls off her tongue effortlessly. 

Paige was not lying when she had told you that the effects would soon hit you. Before you could even start to feel uncomfortable, a delicious easiness fell over you, loosening you up in a way you had never experienced before. You reach for Paige’s straw once more, pretending that her mouth was not just on it, and you relish in the sweet liquid adding to your tipsiness.

Paige had stayed close all night, similarly to the night before, and you were grateful for her constant presence anchoring you. The other girls took turns dancing with you, showering you with compliments and making future plans. Even through the haze of the alcohol, your heart felt as if it could burst; they were all so nice, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you actually belonged. 

The night flies by, and as it does, you and Paige get more and more touchy. Her hands took turns between trailing down your back and resting heavily on your hips. She played with a lock of your hair, twisting it in her fingers as you swayed to the music, and she was constantly gazing at you through heavy lids, pupils blown from the darkness of the bar and pure want.

Emboldened by the drinks that had graced your lips, you don’t shy away, and before you know it, you’re leaning in closer, intoxicated by more than just the liquor. The bustling crowds and excessive noise surrounding you melts away as Paige grips your waist, pulling you closer into her. 

Your heart pounds at her proximity. She reaches up, cradling your jaw and stroking the soft skin of your neck with her thumb. You wonder if she can feel the thumping of your carotid, but you’re too enthralled in her presence to even care. Her eyes flit between your own and your slightly parted lips. Everything felt so fucking delicate, as if one small move would break everything. 

“Been thinkin’ about doin’ this all night,” she whispers, and pulls you into a kiss.

All the air is sucked out of you as her lips touch yours. And while you are momentarily stunned, it does not take long before yours are moving against her in a delicious exchange of passion. All worries of not being a good kisser leave your mind as Paige moans against your mouth, the sound shooting straight down your belly and to your pussy. Her tongue moves against you, and the feel of it does not help the slick now accumulating in your panties. 

The kiss eventually ends, much to your displeasure, and as you pull away, a giggle erupts from your mouth at the insanity of it all.

You had just kissed Paige Bueckers.

“OOH, P is fucking whipped!” KK shouts over the music, enthusiastically high-fiving Ice and Nika. 

Fuck, you were caught. 

But little did KK know, is that you were pretty fucking whipped, too. With one smooth move, Paige had broken down all your walls, and you were surrounded by the bricks of your carefully crafted innocence shattered around you at your feet. And maybe you could blame it on the alcohol, but you were pretty sure that if Paige made you anything less of a good girl, you were certainly okay with that. 

~

Part 3 - You get drunk off Paige, and confessions come out.

Part 4 - Paige makes you feel so good.

Part 5 - Paige shows you her strap.

The beginning hits a little too close to home I’m so sorry I blacked out while writing it. It’s been almost 9 years since I realized I had feelings for girls, and I still struggle every day with accepting myself. To all the readers who are going through the same thing, I love you, and here’s to hoping things get better. If you ever want to reach out, my inbox is always open.

xoxo katy

[btsbabe7]

Perfect Storm

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x reader

Warnings!: 18+, unprotected sex

Synopsis: While Ominis grapples with his feelings, you embrace your own in full bloom.

Ominis sits in a complete daze, exactly three rows from the front of The History of Magic. In a class where sleep is prioritized over education, he finds himself wide awake and engulfed by his own thoughts.

At a young age, Ominis Gaunt had learned the mastery of concealing his disdain, his happiness, and all other emotions in between that may apprehend him. It was a skill he found himself most proud of, especially as a Slytherin, simply because it kept him safe from the consequences of raw emotions and how others may perceive them. But on this particular afternoon, an hour after your coffee brown feathered owl, Nora had chirped seven times through his windowsill, Ominis felt something arise.

A feeling he had long forgotten had begun to muddle up and settle in the hollowness of his chest as it would after a sip of freshly brewed Butterbeer or morning pumpkin juice on an empty stomach. He’d only felt this way twice in his entire life. Once, when he’d learned he’d been invited to attend Hogwarts and would finally be able to escape the harsh scrutiny and peculiar upbringing of his pureblooded parents. Secondly, when he’d been introduced to Sebastian and Anne Sallow during his first year of attending. However, he would have never guessed that he’d feel this way about you, his now, not-no-new best friend that he can’t seem to stop thinking of. Though, there is one thing Ominis knows for certain, and that is that he must stop his heart from becoming too attached. Otherwise, the feeling would fester and utterly consume him.

When Professor Binn dismissed class, a herd of yawning students stumbled out in the connecting hallway of The Bell Tower in pure delight. As they do, you scan the crowd over, student by student, looking for only one in particular.

Amit Thakkar. Eric Northcott. Lenora Everleigh. Natsai Onai, who stops at your side with a sly smirk.

“Next time you decide to skip Binn’s class, I beg you have Nora deliver a notice beforehand. As much as I appreciate a midday nap, I do cherish adventure even more.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you giggle, though you know Natsai wouldn’t have wanted to join in on the adventure that had pulled you away from class on this particular day.

The high of Sebastian’s presence that typically lingered long after the fact comes to a standstill at the thought of other’s putting the pieces together. Surely word would soon travel of you missing your History of Magic course and the coincidence of your best friend Sebastian missing his Astronomy one simultaneously. That thought alone is what steals your concentration from the leaving students and causes your mind to wander. A few seconds more and a small tap has you jolting as if you’ve seen a ghost for the first time.

“Ominis,” you breathe in relief.

“I could smell you,” he chuckles. “Well, you smell of Sebastian actually.”

“Oh, yeah… I, uh… We bumped into each other on the way to class and decided to ditch.”

Ominis is silent for a moment. He can always detect your hesitation when you lie, but it wasn’t a completely lie. You hope in your heart that he’ll buy it and not question any further, and in your favor, he chooses the latter.

“Nora stopped by before class,” he states. “She only chirped seven times. So you’re early, despite missing class.”

You rope your arm in Ominis’ and lead him downstairs and towards the doors which lead you out the castle.

“On my way over, I figured we could head to Hogsmeade early. We’re both done for the day and we don’t get much time alone without Seb. I tried to convince him to stay in tonight, but he was adamant about spending time with both of his best friends.”

Ominis hums in curiosity. Wondering what you’d bargained with Sebastian to get him to give you and him any time alone at all. Despite his curiosity, his own excitement wins the battle. He hadn’t had a moment alone with you since you’d met him and with Sebastian out of the way, even for a short moment, he’d finally have you to himself.

“Do we have to go to The Three Broomsticks? If we aren’t due there until seven this evening, we can go elsewhere?”

You purse your lips as you both waltz through the doors and into the warm breeze of spring. The air smells of heavy rain. The type of rain that smells of earth and dew and brings the worms from their humble adobes in the soil.

“I suppose we could go wherever we please.”

Ominis smirks, but turns in the opposite direction in order to conceal it from you.

“Perhaps we could go to The Undercroft?”

You glance up towards the sky. Heavy, grey clouds settle in the distance, remnants of a storm while another dares to roll in at a moment’s notice. As much as you love a brilliant storm, you’d love to spend time alone with Ominis more. After all, many storms have hovered in the skies above the grounds of Hogwarts, but time alone with your Slytherin friend weren’t as frequent.

“The Undercroft,” you hum in agreement.

Careful to evading the nosiness of curious students and staff, you and Ominis slip into the concealment of The Undercroft with relieved sighs. You gaze over the darkened room, casting Confringo towards the four hanging lamp posts before continuing inside.

Abandoned furniture, rusting cauldrons, and dusty barrels are stacked high against the surrounding walls, making the room appear much smaller than it feels. The room itself smells of burnt embers, left behind from all the times you and the duo had practiced Confringo here on end. You smile at the memories before meeting Ominis in the center of the room enveloped between four hefty, ornate columns.

A rug sits there now, one you’d managed to buy over Christmas break and bring in from home with the help of an Extension Charm. The others hadn’t seen it yet since you’d just placed it today before meeting Sebastian in the secrecy of his empty dorm.

“Confringo truly warms up the room,” Ominis breathes sarcastically before settling down. His brows rise at the sudden change of surface and he allows his fingertips to mold themselves into the thick fibers of the woolen rug with a gentle breath. “A rug?”

“Don’t you and Seb get tired of sitting on frigid concrete?”

“I’ve known nothing else.”

You smile softly, happy that you’re allowing him to experience something new in his safe place.

With your own need to relax, you kick your shoes off and drop your robe before joining Ominis on the rug. He jolts up at the feeling of your knee pressing against his and tries to imagine your facial features in this moment, calm and soft.

“I wish we could enjoy the storm from here,” you whisper. “I’d love to hear the heaviness of the rain pitter pattering around us. The rumbling of thunder that comes with the rolling clouds.”

Ominis smiles. Taking in your words and imagining them in his head. The coolness of the rain prickling against your flesh and curls. What rolling clouds would look like when the thunder rumbles beneath your feet and lightening streaks through gray clouds. The way your lips curl into a grin and eyes close when you’re in a state of peace and tranquility only a storm can offer. You take your bottom lip in with a smile, laughing to yourself at the thought. It’s as if you and Ominis had shared the imagery telepathically.

“Y/n,” Ominis calls, though he has no words to say. After all, anything that would come out in this moment would come out as a stutter and surely you’d laugh in his face, even as his friend.

But you respond in the softest your voice has ever been around him, a simple yes, and he finds himself swooning. He falls silent, closes his eyes and takes in the smell of burning coals in the nearby lamps. It’s not the smell of wet earth, but it is familiar. As familiar as the fluttering in his stomach as he lies back in hopes to push them away, the butterflies. And much to his dismay, you replicate the action.

The smell of Sebastian has long worn away and your own smell of vanilla and worn book pages returns. The warmth of your body so close to his has him fighting to steady his breathing. He shuffles a bit in an attempt to create space, but ends up slapping his hand into yours instead. You smile at the feeling and allow your palm to clasp around his with a soft exhale.

A few moments of silence pass by and you drop Ominis’ hand to roll onto your side. With one hand propping up the side of your head, your eyes roam over your best friend. His robe is parted and his tie sits tightly around the ring of his crisp, white collar that’s nestled underneath his buttoned vest and open jacket. The hem of his button-up is still neatly tucked inside his belted, checkered grey trousers. His full length, grey socks are pulled to the knee and stuffed inside his short boots. And when your eyes gaze up towards his face, a soft smile sits on his lips as if he’s deep inside a fantasy only he can see.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Ominis’ smile turns into a hoarse cough, almost a choke. You pat him gingerly on the chest until he heaves out one last cough and wipes away the tears.

“Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Y-you didn’t,” he spats out. “I just didn’t know you were observing me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re the most interesting object in the room.”

His cheeks turn a cherry red and he gazes away nervously.

“I believe you to be more interesting,” he mutters.

You come up to your knees, allowing them to sink into the soft fibers of the rug.

“Prove it.”

You shock yourself and Ominis with that line, but it does the trick of pulling his reddened face back in your direction. Had this been Sebastian and you’d given him the chance, he wouldn’t have bat a lash before making a move, but Ominis has always been your greatest challenge. You know he won’t be the first to make the move even if the stone lied within his court. So, you find yourself climbing into his lap, straddling him as he attempts to find the words to say or expression to convey in response to your boldness.

“It’s alright,” you whisper.

“Are you sure?”

“Completely.”

Ominis’ trembling hands plant themselves against your jawline, thumbing over your soft cheeks, then the circumference of your lips. His mouth parts and your own need to feel him consumes you. You repeat the action of grasping his face and lean in closer until all that’s between you is a slither of air.

“Y/n,” Ominis speaks quickly. The call of your name propels his warmth against your lips. “This will change everything.”

“I know, Omi.”

He hesitates, then allows himself closer in consent. You settle down in his lap completely and draw your hands to the hairs at the nape of his neck, taking in the coarseness before your eyes flutter closed and your lips press gently into his.

Ominis’ body shutters underneath you as if he’s been set ablaze while yours kicks into overdrive. You help him slip off his robe and jacket, then mindlessly pluck the large, grey buttons from the holes of his vest. He shrugs out of it and clasps his arms around you, moaning as you both deepen the kiss and fall back on the rug. His hands travel over your waist, down your hips, then down your thighs on either side of him. He mentally takes in that you chose to wear a dress today, knowing he could use that to his advantage if you chose to go any further.

You pull away breathlessly and in a daze, drinking Ominis’ relieved express in like cool water.

“Do you think we have time?” You ask aloud, not necessarily to him as you reach back to grab your pocket watch from the inner pocket of your own robe. Barely an hour before you’re set to meet Sebastian in Hogsmeade. It’s not nearly enough time, but with the pout on Ominis’ face, you can’t deny yourselves the pleasure. “We’ll be quick…”

Ominis chuckles at the shakiness of your voice before pulling your lips back to his. If he had to face an annoyed Sebastian because you both arrived late, he’d take that over missing this opportunity with you. And in agreement, you and Ominis strip down to your undergarments in no time. Once his hand brushes against your bare flesh, he squeezes his eyes shut and pulls you down against him.

“Have you done this before?”

He shakes his head.

“Have you?”

You fear being honest in a time like this, when you know he’s so vulnerable, but you also know Ominis would be able to read your lies easily. Besides, in a time like this where everything is sacred, lying seems cruel.

“Only once,” you reply shakily.

Ominis’ expression fades into something unreadable, then a smirk appears.

“Perhaps you can show me how it’s done then?”

You scoff nervously. It wasn’t the response you were expecting. In fact, you were thinking he’d nudge you off of himself and start to redress. That you’d end up wallowing in shame all night over Butterbeers at the embarrassment.

You waste no time grinding against him, getting a feel for his size as soft pleas slip from his lips. Your own lips gasp at the feeling of him growing hard beneath your warmth. A bit surprised by his size, you lift up just enough to work the hardened member from his briefs. With a purr, you rub down the length and move your own garments to the side. You grasp one of Ominis hands and position it between your legs, and you swear his eyes widen like the moon at the sensation.

“Touch me here for now,” you croon, already aching in anticipation of the pleasure you know he won’t deny you.

Ominis rubs down your length, taking in the number of folds it takes to get to the source of your warmth. He clamps his hand over the mound, then slips a single finger into your depths, which earns a moan from your throat. He seems to like it, the prize that comes from knowing he’s touching you correctly.

“Just like that, Omi,” you mewl seconds before he pulls his finger in and out of your arousal. You work your own hand over his full length with a coating of your own saliva. “Can’t wait to feel you inside my wet pussy.”

He stops short as if his brain hadn’t processed it beforehand. He could feel you even more, more than his finger. Skin to skin, body to body. Luckily, you can’t deny yourself the pleasure anymore, and knowing that time is ticking by, you climb back into his lap and take him back into your grasp before lining your entrance up with the tip of his erection. It only takes the feeling of the tip poking inside to pull a heavy groan from Ominis’ lips. It makes you smile, the sight of him already squirming as you slip down the rest of his length with a loud whimper.

“Fuck, Omi, your cock feels amazing.”

“Y/n,” he whines and grips your waist the moment you start gliding back and forth with the length of his cock stuffed inside. It almost slips out, then you skillfully retract it back in. He squirms every time it comes close to falling out, a pinch of panic at the idea of losing this feeling.

His eyes shut and his blunt nails burrow into your flesh as you find a steady pace and your palms rest against his sweaty chest. You knew Ominis would feel astronomical inside of you, but he never knew he’d quickly become addicted to the feeling of himself being buried deep inside your depths.

You toss your head back and move Ominis’ hands up to your chest. He massages your breasts softly and unskillfully, scared of squeezing too hard in fear of hurting you.

“Lick them? Please?” You squeak and falter towards him. “Suck them.”

He feels for one of your protruding nipples and laps his warm tongue over the left, which causes the right to ache painfully in neglect. You massage into it yourself while trying to keep your pace. He pulls the left between his teeth and sucks on it hard, causing you to squeal before he moves to the right. You ride him faster, too overtaken by your own pleasure to notice him trembling beneath you. His own pants intertwine with yours and his hands find your hips again, this time guiding you up and down his twitching length.

“Y/n, I think I—“ Ominis’ words get caught in a groan so deep, your eyes flutter open.

“Oh, Omi… I’m going t— Nngh!”

He thrusts his hips upwards and your words fade into a sharp scream that leaves you shaking and trembling against him. Your eyes roll back and he pulls out of you with tremors of his own. You feel a warm liquid spurting against your ass and you sigh in relief before collapsing on top of him. His chest heaves violently against yours. His, then yours until they fall back into a rhythmic pattern of normalcy.

Silence falls over the room once again and you trace lines down Ominis’ abdomen mindlessly. Yet, in his mind, he’s attempting to come to terms with the act you two just committed. He’s sure this will change absolutely everything.

Will he start bantering with Sebastian when he mindlessly flirts with you?

Will he slip up and curse one of the other students who brag about how hot the hero of Hogwarts is?

He would now know just how hot you can get after finally having you this way. Would that knowledge alone push him over the edge?

On the outside, he remains calm, but you sense that his mind is elsewhere. You trail a fingertip from the center of his forehead and down the bridge of his nose before leaning over him.

“What’s plaguing your mind, Ominis?”

He’s hesitant, but thinks better of. If he’s had you like his, in his most vulnerable state of nudity, then surely he can admit his feelings.

“I’m worried about the others… Sebastian…”

“What about them?”

“What they’ll think or say. About the lewd comments I overhear in class. And if we continue to do this, they’ll begin to notice we’re becoming more than friends.”

You ponder it over for a moment, but surely being perceived as more than friends wouldn’t be so preposterous.

“There are worst things out there, Ominis Gaunt, than our peers perceiving us as more than friends. Perhaps you wouldn’t be too worried if instead of being friends, w—”

“Instead of being friends?” Ominis sputters in confusion and panic.

You pat his chest gingerly.

“Yes, Omi. Instead of being friends, you consider being my boyfriend instead? And when they inquire, we’ll simply tell them we’re courting each other.”

His face turns as pale as Professor Binn, a true ghost, and he sits straight up as if to prevent a choking fit again.

“You want to court me? You truly fancy me?”

“Of course. I thought that much was evident. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have spent the entire afternoon attempting to get Sebastian’s blessing of giving us time alone. And I surely wouldn’t be plastered against your body fully naked,” you snort.

Color fades back into his cheeks, but he remains flustered. That’s the reason you smelled of Sebastian, you’d been in his dorm all afternoon, and knowing Sebastian, convincing him would’ve taken a while. And now it made perfect sense that he’d granted you the time alone and hadn’t once wondered into The Undercroft with all the time that’s passed. It’s as if everything has finally clicked in his mind.

Ominis recognizes something else too, the feeling that had settled in his chest earlier in the day. It’s the very feeling he felt once he was granted freedom from the abuse of his parents, the feeling he felt when he’d met Sebastian and Anne, the feeling you grant him now and always have, is hope. A hope for something new and better in the midst of his own chaotic storms. And with that realization, Ominis caresses your cheek and presses his lips ever so slightly into yours.

And after a few deep kisses, he pulls back, leaving a sliver between you two to flash a brilliant smile before finally answering your burning question.

“Of course I’ll be yours. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ Rain Does Not Fall on One Roof Alone (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Untitled (m.) - Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Golden - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Coffee (Love You a Latte) - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ For You Always (m.) - Severus Snape x reader

⚡︎ HP: November Prompt Challenge (days 1-30)

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

May 2024

[kitten4sannie]

ꜱᴄᴘ: ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀᴄʜ

ᴛᴇʀᴀᴛᴏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ/ᴛᴀᴍɪɴɢ ➠ ꜱᴀɴ

pairing: past lover/SCP! san x researcher! reader (fem) feat. resaercher friend! mingi

genre: SCP au, horror elements, angst (there’s a hopeful ending i promise ;;), smut

summary: having seen everything under the sun as a researcher at the SCP foundation, you didn’t think much of SCP-1117. it wasn’t until he started appearing as your late husband that you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

w.c: 3.4k

warnings: past character death, ANGST (i’m telling you now…), hard dom! san, bratty sub! reader, brat taming, cnc, san’s a heartless monster here so yeahh, he also has monster features yk (sharp teeth, black eyes, monster cawk), dirty talk, degradation/name calling, brief tit play, brief spit play, restraints, choking, rough oral (giving), deep-throating, kissing, fingering, squirting, like…so much cum…, finger sucking, rough sex, mating press, dacryphilia, creampie

a/n: listen ik it’s filth fest okayy there’s def filth in this but i also used this one as an angst outlet so just know this one’s got a little kick to it,, im sorry my lovelies i just couldn’t help it </33

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ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴍᴀᴛʜ ʙʏ ᴋɪᴅ ꜱɪꜱᴛʀ

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ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

SCP-1117 was a curious one. Neither you nor your coworkers knew what its true form looked like, due to its ability of morphing into whatever it pleased. You couldn’t quite figure out what it truly was either. It was simply an amalgamation of pure chaos. One that you found yourself being drawn to ever since it began to replicate your late husband’s image. 

Was it to entice you? Punish you? You weren’t sure. What you were sure of was that you couldn’t bring yourself to escape from its clutches, remaining at work during the late night hours, always telling your coworkers that you were simply running tests on it, when in actuality, it was running tests on you. Testing how much pain and pleasure you could take. Testing how much it could take from you and give to you without completely swallowing you up. 

Oh, how it would love to. 

࿏࿏࿏

“Y/N, you shouldn’t be staying here so late…and you shouldn’t be around SCP-1117 so often. It’s too dangerous…” one of the researchers you were closest with told you in a hushed voice inside the hauntingly white, sterile hallway of the facility, placing a hand on your stiff shoulder, his fingers squeezing into your plain white lab coat, hints of coffee still on his breath. 

“Thank you for worrying about me, Mingi,” you began softly, looking up at him past the smudged lenses of your glasses, taking a sip from your own cup of stale black coffee. “But I’m getting closer to a breakthrough. I need this…The foundation needs this.” 

“We still don’t know what its intentions are though…What if you get hurt?” Mingi pushed, concern present within his hushed, though gravelly voice, studying you with his sad, deep-set eyes. He searched the pristine tile floor for something he couldn’t find, finding it even harder to look back up at you. “I feel like…ever since the passing…you’ve been…” 

You offered him a gentle smile, reaching up to pat the side of his cheek, interrupting him, “Mingi, I’m fine, really. I just need something to focus on instead of the grief, and this is it.” Something inside you shifted, the edges of your facade fading for only a moment, causing you to push your glasses up past the slope of your nose. “Research is all I have left as of late.” 

Mingi inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling like shit, causing him to bring you into a warm, tight hug, whispering into your shoulder, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Please, do what helps you.” He squeezed you a little tighter, as if you would slip away from him at any second. “Just don’t forget, I’m here for you, Y/N. Night or day, I’m here.” 

You stayed still inside his grasp, wanting to feel comfort from his gentle, loving touch, but instead feeling nothing at all. All you felt was the muddled memory of what love was to you. You heard it whispering into your mind and onto your skin, tormenting you with what you once had access to. “Thank you, Mingi,” you replied sincerely, slowly reaching your arms around him to hug him back, settling into his embrace. Before you even realized it, you had begun to hold him just as close, nuzzling his shoulder until your glasses fogged up. 

Eventually, Mingi left you to your own devices, and you found yourself heading down to the basement floor, your high heels clacking loudly against the tile inside the large, empty hallway as you made your way to the entity’s room. 

Once you pressed your keycard into the room’s security system, a small blue light flashed across your eyes, scanning your identity, before it let you into the vast, dark room. 

Little by little, the plain room morphed into what used to be your late husband’s office, that in real life, was shut off from the rest of the world with a key, as you were never internally prepared to walk into a space that he had spent so much time inside. Here, it was perfectly clean and kept-up. Inviting. Warm, even. Not covered in thick layers of dust and shrouded in darkness, like in your reality. A reality you were relieved to have an escape from once again. 

“You took so long to see me, honey. I’ve missed you dearly,” a deep, masculine voice called out to you, causing you to turn around and see your late husband sitting at his computer desk, wearing a coat similar to yours, his glasses slipping down his nose like they always did, a pout on his classically handsome, feline-like face. 

“San, I’ve missed you too,” you called back, running over to him just as he got up from his computer chair, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Missed your touch.” It was then that you heard a slow, calculating chuckle ring out inside your ears. It sent a shiver right up your spine, your idyllic fantasy quickly falling apart at the seams like it always seemed to do. 

“Oh, did you now? What did you miss, honey? My cock in your ass? Your throat? Or your wet little cunt?” he remarked filthily, the dark amusement inside his eyes reminding you that he was not your husband, and that this wasn’t the life you had. This was a cold, empty room, and you were in the arms of a nameless monster that wanted nothing more than to ruin you. 

The feeling was mutual. 

“I’ve missed it all. Need you,” you admitted hastily, opening San’s work shirt up to reveal his pretty, tan skin, simultaneously letting him push you back into the desk, watching him rip open your top, the buttons flying off and skidding across the floor. 

“You’ll have me, slut. Relax.” San pulled your bra off, immediately encompassing your tits with his large, warm hands, squeezing them roughly and kneading them around, making you squeak. “Missed these tits of yours.” 

“Yeah…? I bet you jerk off thinking about them when I’m gone. Pervert,” you tested him, hoping to provoke the beast, reaching down to grab his hardening cock through his tight work pants. 

San sneered at you, showing off his sharpened teeth. “Why would I need to jerk off when you come here every night and willingly give me your holes to fuck as I please? Huh?” He lowered his mouth to your chest, spitting on one of your tits, before sucking on it sloppily, licking at your nipple with his forked tongue. “Or did you forget how fucking filthy you are?” 

“Might need a reminder…” 

“I forget just how truly mindless cock sluts are,” San mused to himself, flicking your other nipple roughly with his pointer finger, making you jolt from the sudden twinge of pleasurable pain. “I'll remind you, my dear.”

The entity suddenly swiped all the things off of his desk, from the large, ancient computer that your husband never wanted to get rid of because of the ‘lovely vintage aesthetic’ it apparently brought to his office, the various knickknacks he was never able to part with, from romantic poetry books he never got to read, to clay cats he made in the pottery class he begged you to join, knocking everything onto the floor so that he could place you onto it, with enough force that you felt a bit dizzy. With his hands pressed onto either side of the desk, San hovered over you, his now fully black eyes boring into your half closed ones, drool falling from his lips onto your flushed face. “Show me how wet you are, Y/N. Show me now.”

You obediently slid up your work skirt and lowered the lip of your panties, showing off your glistening, plump folds, your lips forming a playfully wicked smile. “Is that enough for you, 1117? Hm? Does it make your cock stiff?” 

You both knew that you using his given name pissed him off more than anything, which led to him sending one of his fists straight through the desk near your shoulder, with so much ease, it was almost as if he was slicing through butter. You didn’t flinch, and he loved you for it. He loved his perfect little playtoy. You always knew how to press his buttons just right. Maybe that’s why he didn’t swallow you whole just yet. “You know, what does make my cock stiff is the thought of fucking that bratty mouth of yours until‌ you’re dripping drool and my load all over yourself…” 

“Well, what are you waiting for, huh? I don’t have all night, you know. The morning crew comes in early,” you deadpanned, your heart hammering away inside your chest, your mind and body vibrating with an excitement that you haven’t felt since, well, the night before. 

“I’m going to be cumming early too, when my cock’s ramming down your throat…” San climbed off of you and moved your body around to his will, so that you were laying on your back with your head hanging off of the desk. He ripped off his belt and looped it around your wrists, tightening it up until you whimpered. It was then that he pulled out his long, veiny cock, the tip of it dripping obscene globs of pre-cum onto your face, some of the saltiness getting on your lips. “Y/N, tell me, did your husband ever fuck and claim your throat for himself? Or did he do something disgusting like eat you out for your own sole pleasure instead?” 

Visions of your late husband worshiping your body like a temple, with love in his eyes and praise on his lips, flashed across your mind, filling your stomach with lead, just as San, the monster, the entity that you couldn’t understand, filled your mouth and throat with his large, pulsing length, not giving you a chance to answer, instead snapping his hips forward. 

“Oh my god, that’s it, right fucking there,” San groaned gutturally, closing his talons around the sides of your throat, watching the way his cock made an obscene bulge inside it each time he thrusted roughly into it, amused by the dribbles of spit escaping past your stretched lips. “Hey, do your coworkers know that you’re a whore for SCP-1117? Do they know that you study the way my balls hit your fucking face every time I thrust into this tight throat of yours?” 

You gurgled noisily around his rapidly moving length, his salty pre-cum leaking into your mouth, not even having the ability to gag anymore from the amount of times that you’ve taken him inside, your throat already used to the shape of San’s enormous cock. “Mmmmfff…”

“Uh-huh, I know, baby. I know how much you love it,” San mused knowingly, reaching past your throat to rest one of his hands on the opposite edge of the table to thrust more easily into your tight throat, one hand already on your messy cunt, his talons returning to normal hands, a wedding band present on his ring finger, eagerly rubbing from your clit to your slit just to hear your juices squelching through his fingers. “I know how much you love being a hole for me.” 

You spread your trembling thighs open, bucking your hips against his fingers, your moans sending pleasant vibrations onto his cock. It was when he stuffed your cunt full of his fingers that your moans were near constant, your eyes rolling up into your head, drool sliding up your face from the upside down position you were in, drops of it landing onto the floor near San’s black work shoes. 

“Your pussy’s leaking so much, baby, did you know that? You must be really desperate for my cock, huh? Even though I pound you into a coma every single night? Are you that much of a brainless cum dump for me now?” 

“Mm-hmm...!” Your thighs suddenly clenched around his rapidly moving hand, encouraging him to force them back open, most likely leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin. 

San let out a significantly more pleasured groan than the rest that he was letting out, his cock throbbing deep inside your open throat, sweat dripping down the side of his temples, his hair starting to stick to his forehead, his wire glasses threatening to fall from his face. “You’re such a pathetic slut, god, it’s gonna make me fucking cum…” 

Clear liquid suddenly gushed past San’s thick fingers, your muffled moans crescendoing into an equally muffled scream, your thighs going limp against the now slippery desk. You closed your eyes, and for a second, you saw your real husband standing at his desk, proudly holding up one of his crudely painted clay cats for you to see, showing you his pretty dimpled smile and sparkling, affectionate gaze. 

It was then that San tore you away from your brief blissful memory, bringing you back to reality with his wet hands closing back around your bruising neck, his throbbing cock rammed completely down your contracting throat. “Go on, do what you do best and drink it all for me, baby,” he purred, just as he unleashed load after load into your mouth, some of it spilling out and dripping along your sweaty face and into your hair. 

You simply laid there, still trembling, your wrists straining against your leather restraints, doing your best to swallow the endless amount of cum down without choking on it. It was so much that you almost found yourself beginning to pass out from the lack of oxygen, too busy guzzling down cum to breathe, your brain and fingertips growing tingly. How nightmarish would it be for the morning crew to come to find you passed out in SCP-1117’s room, your body covered in squirt and semen. Though it couldn’t be much more of a nightmare than the one you were already living in. 

Once San’s balls were sufficiently drained in that moment, he slowly pulled out of your throat and mouth with a lewd pop, lifting up your practically lifeless body and flipping you around so that you were on your back again and gazing up at him. His face had grown more monstrous, his curled, sharp teeth starting to grow into his cheeks like they were sewn into his flesh, his glasses now gone, his eyes, like portals to an abyss you couldn’t seem to look away from, unintelligible symbols carved into the skin of his neck and collarbone. “What’s wrong, honey? You look frightened. Is something the matter?” he asked with faux concern, a deep chuckle emanating from his tattooed throat. 

“Shut up and fill me with cock, already, 1117,” you sighed, reaching up to rub the cum from your glasses the cloth of your shirt, simply smearing it around instead. 

Growling animalistically, San grabbed onto your hips, sinking his sharpened nails into your skin enough to elicit a small whimper from your lips, positioning his hardened cock against your cunt, rubbing his cockhead along it, just teasing your slit, instead of actually giving you what you wanted. “You’re just asking for it, you goddamn brat. You’re lucky I love fucking your whore hole this much or else I would’ve eaten you up a long time ago…You’d be so…tasty…” 

Just as San began to drool on you again, you reached your restrained hands up so that you could have your wrists resting behind the monster’s neck, his overheated body impossibly close to yours. “Eat me up, 1117,” you whispered near his lips, catching his mouth against yours when he lunged forward, his split tongue slipping over yours and down your throat. 

San pushed himself inside the tight heat of your cunt, immediately getting to work, pistoning himself in and out of you like a well-oiled machine, having no plans of stopping until he was pumping monstrous amounts of cum into your womb. 

You sucked and licked at his long, agile tongue the best you could, watching strings of saliva spread in between your panting, parted mouths when San pulled back. “Fuck me harder,” you demanded, choking on your spit when San rubbed his fingers roughly into your clit, watching him bring his fingers up to your lips, taking them inside to suck your arousal off of them. 

“Relax, little slut. You already know I always fuck you within an inch of your life.” San suddenly brought his legs up onto the desk, using his obscene strength to easily position the both of your bodies so that he had you in a mating press, thrusting viciously into your hot, leaking cunt. 

Your already loud moans began to grow even louder, threatening to somehow escape the soundproof room. You couldn’t do anything but take everything San gave you, his thick, impossibly large cock drilling so roughly into your squelching cunt, he punched a prolonged, breathy whine out of you each time. “S-aaaan, pleaseee…!” 

“Please, what? Don’t tell me you forgot how to use your words. Is it because I’m in your guts, baby? Is that why?” San began to laugh evilly near your ear, his tongue slithering past his curled lips to lick the salty tears that began to drip down your cheeks. He thrusted once more, this time feeling your squirt dripping in between your sticky bodies, driving him to fuck you even harder than before, the desk slamming roughly into the side of the wall over and over. “Is that your squirt leaking all over my cock? Fuck, you always cum so hard when I use you like this…Makes me wanna cum too…Gonna fill your womb with my load, Y/N. It won’t stop dripping out of you until tomorrow night when I fill you up again, and again, and again.”

It was then that you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. You tossed your head back, getting lost in a bout of boundless ecstasy, finding yourself back in your husband’s office. This time, he brought you into his arms, enveloping you in his comforting warmth and scent, his kind eyes focused on your face. You couldn’t hear the words for yourself, but you saw his lips moving. ‘I love you.’ That was all you could ask for these days. Just a glimpse. Just a taste of what once was yours. 

You were once again brought back to reality by the entity, his heavy, twitching body pressing fully against yours, filling your cunt up with an unending amount of cum, some of it having to spill out, drops of it hitting the ground.

San gazed down at you, his jaw appearing to be completely unhinged, long, jagged teeth curling downwards, easily able to crush you up until nothing remained, his large black eyes now multiplied like an arachnid, still staring deep into yours, seeing his own reflection in them. He stayed still, like he was debating on consuming your flesh and bones — though….if he did that, then his fun would be over. Without another word, San pulled your restraints off and climbed off of you, his horrific, vaguely familar form staying long enough for him to say, “Until tomorrow, Y/N.” 

It was then that he disappeared, along with San’s office, leaving you cold and alone inside the seemingly empty room. Having been through this routine time and time again, you walked over to a locker in the corner, putting on a fresh set of clothes, fixing your hair and makeup in the small mirror that sat inside the locker, not looking at it long enough to realize that there were still tears escaping your bloodshot eyes. 

You pressed your keycard to the door once more, the system repeatedly leaving a flash of red over your skin until you opened your blurry eyes wide enough so that the blue light could scan them and let you out of the room. Once you were back inside the empty, sterile hallway, you walked to the opposite hall, your heels clacking against the floor along the way, your hands inside your coat pockets. 

It wasn’t until you made it to the elevator that you found yourself falling to your knees, not having enough strength to make it inside. Why you did this to yourself over and over was a mystery. Maybe it was the simple fact that you could still visit some version of your husband, even if he was a soulless monster. Maybe it was because you would rather punish yourself, than take the time to heal from what you lost. You weren’t very sure. What you were sure of was that you stayed in the dark long enough to see that there was always light on the other side. You were ready to crawl towards it.

It was then that the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal who was inside. Mingi stood there, his worried expression morphing into one of conflict, some sort of relief mixed with grief. 

“Sorry, Min, I just…I couldn’t help it…I’m sorry…” you whispered softly, unable to speak more when he simply lifted you off of the ground into his arms. He held you tight, his warm body encompassing yours, reminding you of the person that was always with you, even if you couldn’t see him. He was there through the heartbreak, through the emptiness, through the fullness, the pain, the pleasure, the grief. He was there through it all, just a thought away. Even though he was gone in a way, he had never left you to begin with, and you knew that now. 

You knew. 

“Let me take you home, Y/N,” Mingi spoke up, gently carding his fingers through your hair.

“Okay,” you sighed softly, leaning your head against his shoulder, hearing your late husband’s soft voice whisper something into your mind. “Mingi?”

“Yeah?”

With your gentle eyes creasing at the corners, you gave your dear friend a smile filled with warmth, a smile that the love of your life offered you time and time again, your shoulders feeling just a little lighter in that moment. You thought about the clay cats, about how they should be cherished again. “When we get there, can you help me find the key for San’s home office? There’s something I want to show you.”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[prentissluvr]

too cold — joel (and tommy) miller

gn!reader , (future)fatherfigure!joel (and tommy tbh) , takes place a year or two after joel and ellie settle in jackson , reader is in their mid/late teens , hurt/comfort, angst , cw : brief mentions of loss of friends and family, hypothermia , wc : 3.8K , special thanks to @piggyjeans for reading this for me and motivating me to wrap up this part and get it out to you guys !! <333

at this point, you’re beginning to wonder why you even try. you wonder if there’s a point when the scraps of any family you had left, found or biological, are long gone and you’re on the brink of freezing to death yourself. you managed a fire last night, but you’re shivering beyond control even in the daylight with your sore lack of a real coat. wherever you are, it’s cold as hell and winter is setting in far faster than you could ever combat. essentially, you’re screwed. it seems like it might snow more, there’s not a building in sight, and you’re running out of bullets and food. the cold bites at your exposed nose and takes permanent root in your bones.

night falls far too quickly, bringing the thick snow that you feared almost as much as infected or people; those you could fight, but the snow? against that you have no defense but a sputtering fire, measly shelter, and a slowly thinning sleeping bag. curled into yourself as much as you can, it takes a concerningly small amount of time for you to fall asleep.

by the time you finally come back into consciousness, the struggle to open your eyes scares you even in the muddled state of your mind. the sun is far higher than ideal; already you’ve lost precious traveling time now that your only hope is to find abandoned buildings to scavenge for supplies. and yet, the last thing you want to do is get out of your sleeping bag. it’s kept you as warm as you could be, and even now in the leftover warmth sleep, you’re all too aware of the snow that blew into the small overhand of rocks you slept underneath and the way it’s freezing temperatures will soak into your feet until it reaches every nerve of your body when you continue your trek through the forest.

but, despite that heavy question of what’s the point, there’s no way you’re going to let yourself give up and waste away in the cold without trying to save someone, even if that someone is yourself. so with every struggle, you pull your hands out from their haven in the swaths of fabric, fumbling slightly to zip open the bag and pull yourself out. you’re eternally grateful that you have gloves, but within the few minutes of packing up, the cold has already started to settle in your hands, feet, and face. begrudgingly, you swing your pack onto your shoulder and shove your hands into your pockets, looking for the most direct path to higher ground to scope out any buildings.

as you start out, it seems as though travel may not be the worst. but the thick snow from last night’s flurries and the still slowly falling flakes are quick to tire your legs from the effort, and the way that your jacket lets in too much of the numbing wind hinders your pace. you find yourself exhausted, taking moments to rest against trees that stretch into minutes, maybe longer as your mind becomes foggy and consistent shivering sets in throughout your whole body. 

you stumble a bit and clumsily grab hold of the nearest tree. what the hell am i doing? you wonder. you let your whole side press against the rough surface of the tree, squeezing your eyes shut, then opening them in attempts to clear your head. but that doesn’t seem to help when you start to wonder if you’re hallucinating. just meters away your eyes land on a tall brown horse, an animal you don’t think you’ve seen outside of pictures. you stare at it in wonder for a moment, but a feeling of panic sets in when you process the fact that there’s a man sitting on the horse, a large rifle strapped across his back.

with your shaky hands you fumble around to pull out your gun, but it does you no good when the rifle is pointed at you in seconds. 

despite the threat, the man’s voice isn’t harsh when he calls out to you. “’s alright. ’m not here to hurt you, alright? just drop your weapon.” without much resistance, you do as he says, seeing no other choice and feeling not an ounce of energy to fight back. within moments, he’s off the horse, one hand on its reins and the other put up in the air in a careful truce as he slowly moves closer to you. when he’s near enough that the snow doesn’t obstruct his view of your face, he can see the way that you’re shivering and the unfocused look in your eyes and can immediately notice that something’s not quite right.

“i need you to tell me if you’re infected. don’t lie now, alright? i’ll shoot you if i find out you do.” at this, his voice is more stern, stirring up a bit more fear in you. but you’re able to shake your head clearly.

“no. no, ’m not infected. haven’t run into any for days,” you speak aloud for the first time since you woke up this morning, and you don’t notice the way that your speech is slurred, but he does.

“alright, then. kid, i’m gonna get you somewhere warm, okay?” in the back of your head, you’re terrified to let him closer, to let some stranger lead you somewhere, but the promise of warmth is something you desperately need. even so, you flinch away when he’s finally right next to you and reaches out. “i promise ’m not gonna hurt ya. i’ve got somewhere safe and warm for you, you’re gonna freeze to death if you don't get some help now.” he’s completely right, you realize, so you just nod. “there ya go. do’y have a coat we can get on you?” he frowns when you shake your head, but doesn’t hesitate to unzip his own padded coat. gently, he pulls your pack off your back and sets it down. you don’t even realize what he’s doing until he shrugs his own coat over your shoulders and pulls it tight over your front. the leftover warmth from his own body is heavenly, but in the action, you lose your support against the tree and unconsciously lean into his firm frame. you don’t notice, but he stiffens at this, and his frown grows deeper when he feels how cold you are to the touch.

with strong hands, he pulls you away from him slightly. wordlessly, he guides your shivering arms into the sleeves of his coat, silently grateful for the warm jacket he still has on.

“we’ve gotta get on the horse, now.” 

you just nod, letting him guide you to the tall animal. but you stop short at its side, completely unsure of how you’ll get up.

“first you put your right foot in the stirrup, right here.” you don’t have to say anything for him to begin telling you what you need to. “put your hand on the saddle here to help you up. i’m gonna hold you steady, okay?” you nod, letting him place his firm hands on your waist as you put the last of your strength into lifting one foot into the stirrup. “now you’ve gotta push up with that foot to swing your other leg over the horse.” it takes all of your concentration to understand what he says, and strength that you don’t have to actually do it. it’s messy, but thanks to his help and some miracle, you find yourself on top of the horse and putting all of your effort into staying upright.

“there ya go. i’m gonna get on in front of you, don’t you fall off now.” he quickly fastens your pack onto the horse, letting out a small grunt as he pulls himself up onto the animal. his body warmth right in front of you is precious and you don’t have it in you to feel awkward in the way he does as he pulls your arms around his torso to keep you steady. “just hold on and stay awake, alright? shouldn’t be too long til we get you warm.” once again, you just nod, knowing he can feel it with the side of your face pressed against his back.

as the horse starts forward at a decent pace, his instructions of holding on prove to be harder than ideal with your weakened grip. you don’t know how much time passes until the horse’s movement stops and the man’s voice, along with another, meets your ears.

you startle when the unfamiliar voice calls out. “joel! what took you so lon– what happened?”

“sorry, tommy.” you can feel the rumble of his voice while pressed against him, and turn your head to face the source of the other voice. “found ‘em leaning against a tree just a bit off the path. think they’ve got hypothermia.”

there’s another man on a horse, probably younger, but you can’t tell much else in the snow and the state of your mind. either way, you can’t help but read him as a danger. the man in front of you, joel, you assume, must have picked up on your fear behind him

“’s alright. that’s my brother, tommy. he’s here to help too, okay?” 

another nod from you, and a “damn” from tommy.

“let’s get going, then. we’ll stay in the lookout for tonight then get them back to jackson first thing in the morning. it’ll be dark soon.”

joel agrees, and with that, you set off. every so often, his voice brings you out of your daze long enough for you to nod your head against his back when he checks if you’re still awake. your sense of time is long gone; all you know when you arrive at the mentioned lookout is a vague sense of relief. 

“kid?” his voice rings out and you realize the motion of the horse has finally come to a stop. you do your best to sit up, hating the biting air that immediately hits your front now that it’s not kept warm by joel’s back. your hands stay resting absentmindedly on his shoulders in order to keep you from slipping off of the horse. “tommy’s gonna help you off, okay?” you let out a small hum of acknowledgement as tommy dismounts his horse and comes to stand beside you.

“here we go,” he gives you a small, encouraging smile as he lifts his arms up for you. “put your hands on my shoulders, and i’ll get you down safe ’n sound, alright?” it’s a bit of an awkward reach, and you begin to slip down before you have a proper grasp, but his hands are quick to secure themselves under your armpits, preventing you from falling and instead pulling you into his chest. your knees buckle the moment they hit the ground; tommy’s strong grip keeps you upright. “there you are, ’s alright. god, you’re shivering like a leaf in the wind. we’ll get you nice and warm now.” 

there’s a bit of a struggle getting inside, your legs practically refusing to hold your weight. an immense wave of relief washes through you when you collapse onto the couch they bring you to and you let your eyes shut in exhaustion.

“now don’t you fall asleep on us quite yet,” joel warns. “we gotta get you warm first. tommy, get some hot water going.” you force your eyes back open to see him crouching in front of you. “listen, uh. some of your clothes are a little wet from the snow, and we can’t have that.” he pauses at that, studying your face to catch any sort of reaction.

“okay,” you whisper, somehow coherent enough to still understand what he’s saying and know that he’s right.

“okay,” he repeats. “can i take these jackets off?” you nod. his grip is gentle when he pulls you up from your slouched position, allowing you to lean into him when he slips off the coat he gave you, then your own slightly damp jacket. you begin to shiver even harder, your thinning cotton shirt doing nothing to keep any cold at bay. “alright, alright,” he mumbles, half to himself as he pulls his thicker, dry coat back around you. then comes a blanket, taken from the couch and wrapped securely around your shoulders. he shifts you to rest against the back of the sofa.

that’s when he pauses, at a bit of a loss of what to do because your jeans, despite your thick boots, are soaked from the snow almost up to your knees. but there’s no way in hell he’d feel comfortable taking off your pants, much less how you’d feel. 

“i’m gonna have to cut your pants,” he concludes. “promise we’ll get you new ones in town, but you’ll never get warm like this.”

“’s okay,” you mumble. so he rummages in his pack until he finds a pair of scissors, doing his best to avoid touching your bare skin with his hands or cut you with the cold metal. it’s tricky business; the jeans stick fairly close to your skin, but he manages not to even nick you with the sharp edges. the moment you’re free from any damp clothing, he wraps another blanket securely around your legs so it won’t fall off. 

moments later, tommy reappears in your line of sight with exactly what joel asked for. he leans down, holding it out to you. with shaky hands, you grasp the cup, sighing in immediate relief at the warmth that spreads right into your fingers through your gloves.

“careful, now,” tommy advises. “it’s real hot, don’t burn your tongue.” you do your best to follow his instruction, weakly blowing at the hot water when you bring it close to your mouth. resisting the urge to down the whole thing, you grip it tighter and bring it to your chest, hoping to let some of the warmth permeate through other parts of your body other than your hands. it feels like a little piece of heaven when you feel the steam rising up to warm your chin, your lips, and the tip of your nose and the heat from the cup itself travel through your thin shirt and to the skin above your collarbone.

when you finally begin to sip on the warm water, it’s almost glorious; you can feel its warmth spread through your body. so once you discover it’s no longer too hot, you take long gulps and heave heavy sighs of relief. your trembling doesn’t disappear, but with the third cup, it certainly subsides.

this, and the far more relaxed expression on your face finally convinces joel that it’s safe to let you fall asleep—you’re halfway there anyways. tommy takes the empty cup from your hands before it can slip from your hold, and joel unravels your sleeping bag. at that point, you can no longer process the softly spoken words being exchanged by the brothers, but you’re vaguely aware of tommy’s arms tucking themselves under your shoulders and knees and pulling you off of the couch. then you’re being maneuvered into the sleeping bag that now lays across the surface of the couch, tommy setting you down while joel ensures that you stay properly wrapped up in the blankets. sleep claims you so quickly that you don’t hear the agreement between the two men to take turns keeping watch over you to periodically check your temperature and breathing.

joel wakes you in the morning, his gruff voice quickly recounting the events of the previous day when your jumbled state of mind after waking from such a deep sleep launches you into a panicked confusion. his explanation and comforting hands on your shoulders calm you in moments as the memories return, however vague they are due to the haze of your sickness.

“thank you,” you whisper as he helps you to sit up, his hands still gentle and supportive on your shoulders.

“course. like i said, we’ve got somewhere safe for you if you need. and at the very least, we’ve gotta get you some new pants and make sure you don’t get sick. were you travelin’ all alone?”

“not at first,” you explain, knowing he’s probably wondering about finding someone so young alone. “but now… yeah.” he sighs as if that’s the answer he expected.

“’m sorry,” he frowns. you just give a tight-lipped smile in response. “alright. we should get moving so we can get you to the town doctor. tommy’s gettin’ the horses ready.”

your eyebrows raise at his words. “town doctor?” you question. that puts a small smile on his lips that you don’t quite understand.

“yep. it’s a good place to be,” is all he offers in explanation.

“okay.” you begin untangling yourself from the blankets and sleeping bag that did the job of keeping you warm throughout the night. still covered by his coat, your upper half stays comfortable, but the feeling of your exposed calves hitting the cold air is unwelcome, not to mention the slightly embarrassing sight of the jagged edges of your jeans at such an awkward spot. 

“sorry ‘bout that,” he comments, “but we’ll keep your legs wrapped up with blankets for now and get you new jeans in town.” once you nod, he grabs a hold of one of the blankets he laid on top of you after you feel asleep, a rather small piece of fabric, but the right size to help you out. he wraps it around your left leg, using ropes from his supplies to gently secure the fabric, then repeating his actions for your other leg.

as he does so, he keeps his gaze focused on his task, but his gravelly voice meets your ears. “realized we never asked your name,” he phrases it like a statement, but the obvious question is there.

to be honest, you hadn’t even realized either, first, mind clouded by the hypothermia, and up until now too caught up in the oddness of your situation. one moment you’re all on your own and on the brink of death, the next you’re saved and seemingly on the way to what sounds like some sort of miraculous safe haven even from the vague glimpses of information you hear.

you state your name, hoping with all you can muster up that this isn’t some kind of cruel trick, and that the kindness the two men have shown you is as genuine as it’s proved to be thus far.

“well then,” he repeats your name back to you as he secures the last knot, still not looking up at you, “let’s get you home.”

those words nearly knock the air from your lungs. he throws them out like they don’t mean much, but in the most confusing way, because you’re sure he did it on purpose. you’re sure he does know that they mean a whole lot more than a casual tone and avoided eye-contact, but you suppose you can’t blame him. it’s often easier to pretend they don’t mean anything, certainly much more with people you don’t really know at all, people like you. and yet, you can’t help but think he said it to reassure you. to tell you that this place he’s talking about is one where you can find that thing everyone in this world has lost. as if it’s somewhere you already belong without having set foot in it yet. and you can’t tell the difference between hope and fear in that moment, so you shove it all away.

“sure.” you stand just after he does, grabbing your sleeping bag and beginning to roll it to the best of your ability while still weak. but he stops you, quickly taking over the task of clearing and packing up the last few things in the lookout after handing you a cup of warm water, not too hot. you finish it quickly, still more than grateful for any warmth that can be provided.

joel motions towards the door once he’s finished, and on still slightly wobbly legs, you walk up to him, stopping before he can lead you out.

“thank you, joel,” your voice is quiet, but sure when you say it.

“of course,” he assures, genuine in the affirmation.

“and tommy. tommy, too, of course,” you stutter, suddenly feeling awkward.

“sure thing.” he clears his throat, one his occupied hands almost moving up to rub the back of his neck. at that he turns, and you follow him out, back into the cold.

the shivery weather is not welcome by you, but in a properly warm coat and definitively out of the worst of your condition, it’s far more bearable. you feel bad for taking over joel’s coat, but he seems just fine in his jacket that’s clearly far warmer than your old, lousy excuse of a winter garment.

tommy and the horses are waiting there, just as joel said, and he smiles upon seeing you.

“good to see you up and alive, kid,” he grins with a gentle pat to your shoulder.

you answer his playfully reassuring attitude with a bashful smile of your own. “yeah, the alive part is definitely a plus,” you say in attempts of matching his tone. the way his grin grows tells you the joke landed, putting you at even more ease than before. unfortunately, it doesn’t make the way you formally introduce yourself to him any less awkward, but he seems glad to know your name. by your side, joel tightens one last strap on the horse before placing a careful hand on your shoulder.

“i think we’re good to go now. it’ll only be a few hours of riding,” he informs.

“sure,” you nod. pausing for a moment, you cast eyes down before speaking, albeit a bit timidly. “could you.. could you help me up again?”

you completely miss the soft look on his face at your request. “course i can, kiddo. i’ll get up first and help you from there, okay?” at your affirmative, he easily mounts the horse before holding a hand out to you. “just put your foot here, grab my hand, and i’ll do all the work, alright?” he moves his leg away from the stirrup so that you can use it yourself, his grip on your hand steady the moment you place it in his palm. gratefully, you follow his instructions, doing your best to use your own strength in tandem with joel to ease the effort he has to put forth to help you up. as you swing your leg over the horse, he guides your hand to hold onto his shoulder for you to grip far easier than his hand and succeeds in getting you into the saddle behind him. with that, you’re off, traveling somewhere that you somehow dare to hope is the sort of paradise joel and tommy have described.

,

part two here !!

[radioisntdead]

You know that trope of “I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy-” so on and so forth? Well, that, but it’s actually true because reader wants to help his best and closest friends at the hotel. It can be a bit of found family fluff, and include whoever you want, you got free reign here toots.

Some examples are Angel getting more time off work because reader ‘knows a guy’, Husk getting more premium alcohol because reader ‘knows a another guy’, Nifty getting better and higher grade cleaning equipment, Charlie and Vaggie getting better advertisements, Alastor getting fresh boars and Pentious getting new parts.

When directly confronted about it, reader just gets all coy and says, “I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows another guy, who knows a guys cousin, who knows a girls aunt, who knows-”

Good evening my dear! I had so much fun writing this! Lowkey based the reader off of Todd from Bojack horseman also my apologies for this being a little short.

Oh, I know a guy!

Hazbin hotel x reader,

Warnings: shenanigans! Mild ooc Also the ending is a little muddled because my brain stopped working because it's 3 am and I'm hungry.

In hell, pure unbridled and unchained loyalty was hard to gain, and genuine friendship was harder to find.

And someone like you, someone filled with simple kindness, someone who just did things for others expecting nothing in return was nearly impossible to find.

You accidentally befriended Sinners and hellborn alike, and that granted you with connections a ordinary sinner wouldn't have!

You found the Hazbin hotel after an incident where you were shot out of a circus canon and crashed through one of the walls, and you decided to stick around!

You get a free hotel room and there's a chance of redemption and to seeing the pearly gates of heaven? That's a pretty good deal in your book!

You gave no warning for when you'd use for connections to improve the hotel or to just make things better for your fellow hotel residents!

Husk complained about the horrible quality of alcohol?

The next day a shipment of high quality luxury alcohol came in, at first they thought it was a mistake but were assured that it wasn't, The imp who delivered it greeted you with joy as you addressed him by name and began to ask how he was, how his wife and kids were, etc etc.

You accidentally ran into Charlie and Vaggie during date night? You call up a guy and get them VIP seats for a sold out show they wanted to see.

One of Alastor's old radios break? And he's about to murder someone? You know a guy who can fix it right up, make it good as new!

Niffty's cleaning supplies are beginning to break? you make a phone call and suddenly industrial grade cleaning supplies are delivered to the hotel, She's filled with pure unbridled glee!

Angel dust is complaining about Valentino overworking him? No worries you know a guy! Valentino is shot dead the next day.

Sir Pentious needs a very specific, very outdated and extremely hard to find part for something? You know a guy who can get you one for dirt cheap!

Eventually after you had gotten the hotel a whole build board advertisment the residents came together to discuss what exactly you did to get them what you did, because as far as they knew you weren't an overlord or even threatening for that matter! Angel dust swears he saw you cry over accidentally killing a bug once!

Several theories were made, Niffty and some of the egg Bois stalked followed you for a time!

And you didn't even notice! Honestly they were concerned about that because the egg Bois weren't exactly... Discreet, several of them died.

Eventually they just decided to rip the bandaid off.

"Okay guys so, hear me out on clown dentists, I know some clowns that could be great dentists!" You said waltzing on into the hotel, to be greeted with the people you have begun to regard as your friends, and dare you say, family, circled around the lobby couch like they were preparing for an intervention.

You tilted your head confused and before you could open your mouth to say anything you were grabbed like you were being kidnapped by a slasher killer and thrown onto the couch.

"That's an idea but let's put a pin in that for now because we have a couple concerns about how exactly you get some stuff, like that build board for the hotel!" Charlie started up carefully before Vaggie continued,

"And the time you got us free tickets for that show, thanks again for that but those tickets are expensive."

You shrugged, "I know a guy who's sister's boyfriend's cousin's aunt's poodle is in the build board business, and it's no problem, if you wanna see another show just let me know and I can get you two more tickets! It's no biggie! I know a guy!"

An eyebrow was raised "For completely free? No tricks?"

"Or at a huge discount! And no tricks!" You innocently grinned,

"What about the luxury alcohol you got the bar?" A glance was given to the cat that ran said bar, who was drinking a bottle of said luxury alcohol,

"I know a guy who's married to a Alcohol maker's daughter's daughter in wrath! They have loads of extra alcohol just laying around!"

"What about the parts you got for Pentious?"

"I know a guy who's married to his brother's girlfriend's twice removed cousin's poodle's dog Walker's mother's-" "This is getting ridiculous," "gREAT GREAT GRAND MOTHER'S Chewbacca's queer icon nephew's unicorn who owns a shop."

Were you joking? Or were you complete serious? They genuinely couldn't tell.

"Ya' got the purple pimp killed, I owe ya' one and I don't care whatcha' do in your free time but it is a concerning because ya' know the other two Vees?'' Angel popped in.

"I know a guy who knows a girl who knows a Chicago deep dish pizza who knows a new York style pizza guy who knows a cannibal in cannibal town who knows Rosie's hat gremlin who knows another hat gremlin who knows about hat creature that had a vendetta against pimp grimace!"

"What the fuck."

"Don't question it! I don't mind using my connections for you guys! Your practically my family anywho!" You get up from the couch, "I'm gonna go put together a sinterest board for my dentist clown idea, bye!" You said before booking it up the stairs and into your room, leaving confusion, a very touched Charlie from being called family, questions technically answered and concern for what the fuck clown dentists were.

Good evening folks! I hope you enjoyed this! It became a little funky with the dialogue but that's alright, Either Mob Alastor headcanons or an angst fic is coming up next so tune on in for that! As always thank you for tuning in and goodnight!

Pssssst, you should totally join our discord server

[yuri-is-online]

Ok but what if yutu finds a box full of letters and poems in yuus closet?

Their partner was out, so it was a perfect opportunity. In a week their 1 year marriage anniversary will happen, so they needed to act quick and be sneaky. They go to the closet and unbury a box full of all the letters and poems their partner has wrote throughout their years together, some even have no name onto them as they were intended to be from a secret admirer, but yuu noticed the similar handwriting.

They were going to take the box and turn into into a book, like an album of memories.

They hear the front door open. Oh no their partner is back way sooner than they expected. They hide the box into their clothes, as they're too far from the closet.

A man they've never seen before walks in. Before they can get a word out, they're blasted with two spells back to back.

One muddles their mind, the other opening a portal behind them. The shock from the blast, and them being not far off of their due date causes them to lose balance and tumble into the portal.

When their spouse returns home all they find is a rummaged closet and messy bedroom. Although they want to deny it, the evidence suggests that yuu took any funds they(yuu) were hiding and ran away.

Yes I'm also the grim overblot anon 😁 my brain is full of angsty worms and your au is just too perfect for me not to take them out on 💕

This could be read as something for any of the boys but I feel that it fits rook the most😶‍🌫️

Hello newest friend o/ I'm surprised at how many brainworms I've managed to give people, but it is very nice chatting with all of you about this. I really like this ayuu c:

I like this concept and agree that it fits Rook the best out of all of them. So much so I think I am going to steal it for his Yutu hc post. In general though I think that if Yutu found something like that it would add to the mystery of who his father is for him. Lilia! Yutu sees it as further confirmation that he was the product of an affair, Malleus! Yutu takes it as further proof that magic is real. Jade, Deuce, and Riddle's Yutus would probably be even more confused; if his dad loved Yuu this much then why isn't he here with them? While Cater, Ace, and Yutres of the the Trey Triplets would just find the letters very romantic and not think too much on it beyond that. I can't really see Leona writing letters, Idia I could see writing a digital diary of sorts but no physical letters. It's a really cute idea ;-; the correct mix of angst for this ayuu I think.

Now as for Rook thinking that Yuu left him...

The evidence suggests that yuu took any funds they were hiding and ran away. That's what whoever created this scene wants him to think. But there's no way Yuu would have been able to leave the house without him knowing unless they had a very specific sort of help. The Hunt estate has some of the highest level of security clearances in Twisted Wonderland, whoever took his spouse is someone with connections indeed. But not to worry, he got Vil back from the Isle of Woe did he not? He'll find Yuu and their child soon enough. Rook writes a detailed diary about his search, about the beauty he observes that he missed telling Yuu about.

But he doesn't find them. He doesn't find them and the real world begins to crumble around him alongside his personal one.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 24 - Modern AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 23, word count 937

Sirius gripped his coffee as though it were a lifeline. It was the biggest, strongest coffee he could find, watered down with copious amounts of milk. He took little sips as he logged into his computer at work, brought up his list of tasks for the day and slowly began muddling his way through. 

He’d gone out last night with James, against his better judgement, not that it took much persuasion on James’s part. All he had to do was bat his hazels at him, and Sirius was putty in his hands. 

He’d been having a great time, downing drinks, shaking his arse to the vintage jukebox and then woken up in some fit lad’s bed, hence the massive coffee and the mind-numbing hangover. He’d crept quietly out of the little flat and stumbled his way down the harsh concrete steps that smelled like weed, piss and, for some bizarre reason, hairspray. Sirius had rushed home, hopped in the shower, changed his clothes and hurried to the coffee shop on the corner. He couldn’t even remember the man’s name. He put it out of his mind, reasoning that he’d never see him again anyway. 

It took an age for the little digital clock on his computer screen to blink to 12:00 and signal lunchtime. 

Feeling the need for greasy food, he went to pull out his mobile to order a McDonald’s when he realised he didn’t have it. He checked all his pockets and his bag. It wasn’t there. The panic had just set in that it had been stolen at the bar last night when his computer alerted him to a new email on his personal account. 

‘Hi, erm, I guess Sirius. Sorry, I didn’t get your name last night 😬.

So anyway, I have your phone. You must have left it here when you snuck out this morning. (You are not sneaky, by the way! Like an elephant in size nines!) But yeah, anytime you want to come by and get it is fine. I’ll be in all day. Crap, I hope you get this email, or I’ve just got myself a new phone. It’s actually a big upgrade to mine. On second thoughts, it’s mine now, mwahaha 😈!

Thanks 

Remus Lupin.’

Sirius stared at the words for a few minutes, taking them in, before picking up the work phone from his desk and phoning himself. 

“Hello?” A voice on the other end answered. “Hi, I’m not Sirius. He left his phone at mine last night.”

“Hi, Remus. It’s me. Sirius.” He added in case he hadn’t realised.

Well, I guessed when you used my name. I highly doubt anyone in your phone book knows who I am. Especially ginger toss pot number 1. There’s more than one ginger toss pot?” Remus snickered. 

“Wait, how do you know that, and how did you get my email address? Have you hacked into my phone?!” He felt outraged. How had he even gotten in, though? It was password-protected.

“Sirius, 6969 is not a strong password. Plus, I could see where you’d jabbed at the screen to unlock it. You really need to clean your phone.” Remus went on. 

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” He paused for a second, trying to rein in the snarkiness. “I don’t finish work until 5. Is it alright to come over after that?”

“Sure,” Remus answered. “I’ll be in.” 

“Great, thanks.” Sirius forced a smile on his face so Remus could hear his sincerity.

“Who’s Specky Dick Nuts?  Because they’ve been blowing up your phone all morning before I woke up and found it. They seem to have stopped now, though.”

“Oh, that’s my best mate James. Oh shit, if he’s gone quiet, he’s probably tracking my phone. Er, be prepared. He probably thinks I need rescuing.” There was a loud thudding on the other end of the line. 

“Er, I think your friend might be here,” Remus whispered into the phone. 

“Put me on speaker so I can talk to him.” He heard the faint click as he was put on speaker and the sound of Remus unlocking the four locks on his door. 

“Hi, you must be James,” Remus said. 

“Where is he?!” James’s voice was stern and full of concern. 

“James, mate. I’m fine. I’m at work. I just forgot to pick up my phone this morning. This is Remus, by the way. He kindly let me know he had it.” He prayed that was enough to call off the Potter inquisition. 

“Oh, cool. Hi, Remus.” 

“Hi, James.” 

“Sorry, I thought you were some lunatic. And you were keeping him prisoner.” 

“Oh, don’t worry. Happens all the time.” The phone line was filled with laughter, and Sirius had to hold his receiver away from his head.

“Hey, James, can you take my phone, seeing as you’re there?”

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks, Remus.” He managed to say before James hung him up. He felt oddly dejected for some reason but brushed it off. 

When he came back from lunch, he found a new email, this time from Remus’s actual address.     

‘Can I take you out on a date?’ 

It said. Sirius felt a surge of joy and so replied.  

‘What do you have in mind?’

‘Dinner? Movie? Massive shagathon?’ 

Sirius choked on his own spit at Remus’s reply. He coughed as he typed back.  

‘Jesus, Remus. Are you always so forward?’

‘What can I say? You made an impression 😉.’

‘Yeah, go on then.’

And that was how Sirius found himself for the second morning in a row in Remus Lupin’s bed. But this time, he didn’t sneak out.

[starlightsalvatore]

salvation / klaus mikaelson x reader

heyooo - dabbling with a klaus fic hehe - should I do a part two for what they get up to after this? lmk!! and as always lmk what you think :) writing for the vampire diaries is very new to me so any feedback is appreciated! 

salvation / klaus mikaelson x reader

summary: after a deadly encounter with a werewolf, an old ‘friend’ comes to your rescue

word count: 1.3k (short and sweet!) 

warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of death, typical tvdu stuff

You shivered as Damon wrapped his blankets around you, gently sitting beside you as he held a blood bag up to your lips, which you accepted gratefully and sucked down rather feverishly. “Can I get you anything?” he asked, those intense blue eyes swimming with more emotion than you’d ever seen.

You softly shook your head, “the only thing you can do for me is to stop looking at me like that,” you whispered and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Alright, Miss Conceited, I’m not looking at you like anything,” he teased and you chuckled though it was immediately followed by a wince as pain reverberated through every nerve ending. “You should get some rest, okay? I’ll come check on you in a little bit.” You nodded as he left, letting out an exhale when you were finally alone for the first time since it all happened. You were putting on a brave face for everyone else, assuring Elena you were going to be okay and making her promise she wouldn’t come by the house for her own safety and you’d kept your goodbyes brief, joking throughout… saying things like it’s a miracle I haven’t died sooner, don’t look so sad, but in reality you were terrified. You weren’t ready, your life felt so... unfinished. You hadn’t truly loved anyone yet or even been loved, things were far too chaotic to even think about having a love life. The furthest you’d ever been from Mystic Falls was a family road trip to Texas for a reunion your parents dragged you to just before they both died. 

Your dreams felt muddled, a mix of childhood memories and moments with your friends when shit wasn’t hitting the fan… it genuinely felt like your life was flashing before your eyes as you slept and you awoke suddenly unrested and straining to hear a voice on the other side of the door. “You know, one voicemail works just as well as a dozen.” It couldn’t be.

“No…” you muttered as the door opened, shifting to sit upright but failing as you grunted in pain, watching the blonde man slowly walk towards you and settle beside you. “No, this isn’t real, this is a hallucination.”

“I’m afraid I’m very real,” he replied, accent thick as he looked down at you and you poked his arm, stunned to find it wasn’t an apparition.

“Nope, this is- this is Stefan, or Damon and my brain is just playing some really evil twisted joke on me,” you coughed out.

“I’m offended, love. I’ve traveled all this way just to see you and you liken me to the Salvatore brothers,” he said and you blinked a few times as you accepted he really was here. “Playing with werewolves, are we?” he asked, fingers delicately brushing your shirt aside to reveal the mark just above your collarbone.

“Thought it was a golden retriever,” you rasped and he chuckled.

“Your friends downstairs were very adamant in my coming to save you,” he said and you smiled softly.

“Is that what you’re here to do, Klaus? Or are you going to dangle salvation in front of me before making a ridiculous demand?” you asked and he smirked. He always found you amusing, if not annoying at times, there was a point in which you had him completely wrapped around your finger… something you exploited to the benefit of you and your friends whenever it suited you. And he let you, time and time again, because the moments in which you’d allow him to be within your orbit, or accept the countless gifts he left at your doorstep gave him a glimmer of hope that one day you’d let him give you more. He wanted to show you the world, but you’d extinguished any of that hope he’d had by slamming the door in his face the last time you saw each other.

“I’m here to save your life if you’ll let me,” he answered and you almost rolled your eyes. 

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, love. I’m just here out of the kindness of my heart,” he said and now you did roll your eyes.

“Come on, Klaus. I know you better than that. There’s no such thing as the kindness of your heart because it’s cold and dead,” you shot back. “What do you want?” Your tenacity with him was always the most intriguing, you challenged him… made him want to be better but unfortunately with you it seemed there was nothing he could do to win you over.

“Perhaps I do want something, the question is if your life is worth obliging my simple request?” he proposed.

“Please do drag this out further, it’s not like I’m on a clock here,” you coughed out. 

“I want you to take me up on my previous offer… in exchange my blood is as good as yours,” he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“My answer is the same as it was then.”

“I’m afraid there’s no door for you to slam in my face, love. Would you really rather die than allow me the honor of showing you the world?” he asked and you didn’t miss the way hurt seeped into his tone, though he was trying his best to hide it. 

“Yes,” you answered, voice wavering.

“Perhaps I should let you suffer, consider it a delayed punishment for your continual disrespect,” he said and you chuckled.

“Then go ahead, Klaus. Doors over there,” you said, wincing as you shifted your position. “You never had any intention of saving my life,” you accused and now the hurt was clear as day on his face.

“Do you really think so low of me?” he asked and you shook your head.

“I don’t think of you at all.” you answered, hoping he wouldn’t see right through you.

“If that’s what you’d like,” he responded and as he stood to leave you’d never been more unsure, questioning if this was the right way to play it. Just as he reached the door frame you doubled over in a coughing fit, leaning over the side of the bed as blood dribbled from your mouth and he felt physical pain at the sight. He was back by your side in an instant, tugging you into him and placing his arm in front of you. “Drink, please.” You looked up at him through your lashes, but he just nodded, eyes pleading with you and you let your fangs sink into the skin of his wrist. With each gulp you felt your energy restore and the pain disappear. As you drank he brushed your shirt aside again to watch the wound heal for himself. 

You pulled away but didn’t make any move to leave his lap, allowing him to keep his arms around you for a moment… but just a moment before you leaned back, “three months.” you said suddenly and you saw an emotion you’d never really seen from him… confusion. 

“What?” he asked and you smirked.

“You had your terms, I’m negotiating,” you answered and you watched realization settle across his features.

“What changed your mind?” He couldn’t stop his smile from spreading into a grin.

“I was bluffing,” you said and his grin faltered. “Yet, you still gave me your blood without forcing me to comply… maybe that heart of yours isn’t as cold and dead as I thought.”

“I thought you didn’t think of me?” he asked and you shrugged.

“Maybe I do. You get three months, no more no less… that’s the deal,” you said, sticking your hand out for him to shake and when he grasped it he yanked you a little closer.

“Once we get started you’ll be begging me for more time,” he said with a smirk.

“Well, that’s up to you to prove it worth my time… but that’s all I’m promising.” 

“That’s all I need, love.”

taglist: @caseysalvatore @minalblood​ (if you only meant to be tagged in my damon fics please let me know and I’ll adjust which taglist you’re on!)

[azsazz]

Change Your Ticket (Part 5)

Rugby Star!Cassian x Reader (A Modern AU)

Summary: Dating famous rugby star Cassian Bailey is a dream. What's not one is keeping your secret relationship under wraps. Will you and Cassian be able to keep from the limelight or will your relationship crumble because of it?

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,541

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Notes: ugh. i don't like this one.

_________________________________________

“What?”

There’s no way she just said what you think she said. You wouldn’t be able to hear it with the pounding of your heart and your blood rushing through your ears, you can’t even decipher her next words as the floor falls from your feet.

How would she know that? You pride Mor on her innate ability to find out most information about almost anyone, she’s like a secret agent sometimes. Once, when Feyre had had told you and Mor that her sister Elain was to be engaged to a man no one in her family liked, Mor spent two nights digging into his socials and finding out everything she could about the bastard. To this day, Elain still doesn’t know who it was that sent her those anonymous screenshots and photos of him with another woman.

But right now, you don’t think it’s possible for Mor to have found something out like this. You and Cassian have been so careful, to the extend where you’d been a little paranoid even, always checking your surrounding and planning the times you and him meet up down to the second. You’re anal as fuck about it, but it’s worked for eight months. So why isn’t it working right now?

“I know you don’t want me to repeat myself,” Mor huffs down the line, but her voice is all static, your ears ringing. Your phone is buzzing incessantly in your fingers and your arm is numb with it. You’re terrified to pull the device from your ear, not knowing who or what kind of messages you’re receiving right now.

The elevator rings, signaling its arrival to your floor, and the doors sliding open almost feel like a death sentence. On numb legs, you step forward and off the elevator, Mor’s voice still echoing in your head. You’re dating Cassian Bailey?

Bright flashes jolt you from your thoughts. Whipping your head to where the front entrance is located, you quint, holding your hand up to block some of the glare. Your stomach drops to the floor at the sight. A crowd of paparazzi wait outside, snapping pictures of you through the lobby’s clear windows.

Holy shit. This is real. This is really fucking happening.

You’re not prepared in the slightest. You don’t know what to do, your mind is racing with a thousand thoughts a second and the strobes coming from the front of your building blind you, leaving white spots in your vision, taking out another one of your senses. Mor is rambling on in your ear, shrill sounding, and if you could make out the words through your muddled mind, you figure she’s scolding you and feeling a bit betrayed by you keeping this a secret from one of your closest friends.

Outside, the people shout. Their words are muffled by the thick glass, but it only adds to the anxiety scorching your veins. The collar of your shirt tightens around your throat and your breathing turns shakey. You’re frozen to the spot, halfway out of the elevator, the doors trying to slide closed but your body against the sensor keeps them angrily pulling back open.

The people waiting for the elevator upstairs are probably pissed.

“Mor?” you ask, and she falls silent. You must not sound like yourself because Mor never lets anyone interrupt her. Ever.

“Yeah?” Her tone is cautious, obviously picking up the emotion—or lack thereof—in your tone.

“What’s going on?”

It’s the only thing you can think to say. Your mind is being hammered with thoughts and the bright lights trying to blind you aren’t helping in the slightest but your feet are frozen to the ground. You know you look like a deer in headlights and that you should move, force yourself to do anything besides stand here like a fool for them to get all of the pictures they want—

Your body surges into action, striding out of the elevator and turning down the hall, giving them your back. You can hear their pathetic pleas for you to turn around and walk their way, but you know better than that. They’re here for one thing and one thing only—to see exactly who Cassian Bailey is sticking his dick into.

Rumors and stories will be swirling by tonight. Your phone buzzes in your hand again and you’re sure these pictures are already up in the tabloids, social media, every inch of the internet they can reach. You wonder if Cassian’s seen any of it and then remember that he’s finishing up practice, so he won’t be by his phone to see all of this for at least another hour.

You’re all alone in this.

Mor sighs your name sadly, and your chest squeezes tight as you round a corner, putting a wall between you and the paparazzi. What she’s about to say isn’t going to be something that you want to hear, but maybe it will make it all the more real.

“There was a picture of you in the Morning Mail,” she explains, and your throat tightens. The Morning Mail is a stupid tabloid online that updates every morning. Most of the time it’s filled with silly stories of random acts of kindness or pranks gone wrong with the occasional post about the current celebrity gossip. You didn’t even know that many people followed the account. Mor does because she’s been on their feed a few times and it gained her thousands of followers overnight. “You’re wearing his shirt.”

You want to choke. You never leave the house in Cassian’s clothes; you make sure of that. You’ve been so careful all this time, parking down the street from his place when you visit, forcing him to take a car and get dropped off since people are surely tracking his personal license plates. You don’t sit with the other families in the stadium at the home games, and Cassian doesn’t even follow you on social media.

You’re wearing his shirt, you echo, wracking your brain for any chance you may have slipped up. Nothing comes to mind, and when you hang your head, it hits you full force; the t-shirt you’d stolen of his in your rush to avoid his more than cheeky attitude this morning. Distracted by his wandering hands, his charming smile, you’d shoved one of his on, tucking it into your slacks before rushing out the door.

“Fuck,” your voice wobbles, tears pricking your eyes and emotion thickening your throat. It’s a black fucking cotton t-shirt, and apart from the sheer size of it and how it hangs loosely from your body, you haven’t the slightest idea of how they know it’s his. But it is, and they know.

A quick glance around the corner has your heart stammering in your chest. The photographers look like a bunch of wild animals, climbing over each other trying to catch a glimpse of you. You pray that their flashes are reflecting off of the glass and ruining their photos, but surely, your luck has completely run out if this is how your Monday is going.

You need to get out of here, now.

“I’ve already called Feyre,” Mor says down the line, and you’re confused on why you weren’t the first call she’d made when she continues. “My attempts went right to voicemail, and I called you right back as soon as I let her know. We’re already on our way to your place but we can swing by if you want a ride?”

“Yeah, I—”

“(Y/N)?” Tarquin’s voice startles you as he peeks around the corner. His bleached brows are furrowed deeply, a frown painting his face when he catches the frazzled look on your face. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Ah, so he’s also seen the mass of crazies outside trying to capture a front cover photo of you.

You have a choice right now, to lie to your coworker and say that you have no idea what’s going on or who they’re trying to take pictures of, or confide in your best work friend who’s been with you since the start. Literally, you both started on the same day and have been inseparable since.

You choose the latter.

“Would you mind giving me a ride home?” you ask, holding your hand over the speaker of your phone while you talk to Tarquin. “It seems as though my car is surrounded by strangers.”

With a quick glance back in the direction to the front doors of the building, Tarquin agrees, tone hesitant and a little confused, but he’s gracious nonetheless. “Sure, I can do that. Let me bring my car around the back and I’ll pick you up there?”

You nod, thankful. “Yes, please. Thanks, Tarq, you’re the best.”

He smirks genuinely and you’d roll your eyes at his antics if you weren’t shaking down to the bone. With a wink, Tarquin makes his way through the crowd, and you can hear his cheerful voice as he shoved through the doors, obviously loving all of the attention.

“Mor?” you ask into your phone once he’s gone, “I’ve got a ride, just meet me at my place.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

“So…are we going to talk about why all of those people were asking me about you and trying to get pictures?” Tarquin asks once you’ve successfully made it out into the busy traffic and away from the fleet of paparazzi surrounding your place of work.

Tarquin had picked you up at the back of the building and you all but dove into his car before any of the photographers could catch a glimpse of you. Your coworker had shoved a baseball cap in your direction, one with the Sealion’s logo on it that you reluctantly shoved on your head, slumping down in your seat so you weren’t seen.

Your phone has been buzzing constantly, and you’re worried you might actually have to get a new number with the onslaught of texts, calls, and notifications threatening to send your phone into the same shock you’re currently experiencing. Your parents have even been trying to get through, but you haven’t had the guts to answer any of them or even dare to look on any social media platform. You’ve just been staring at the screen, constantly lit with incoming messages, buzzing fervently in your lap.

You glance at the clock on the radio, blinking 5:32. How could your entire world have turned upside down in the matter of thirty-two minutes? You’ve gone from normal girl working a nine to five at a graphic design firm to Cassian Bailey’s girlfriend all because of a fucking plain t-shirt.

You don’t know if you’ll ever get over that, the fact that an oversized, black cotton t-shirt is your downfall in all of this. It’s mind-boggling to believe that someone had connected the dots that quickly, but there are some avid fans of Cassian’s that you wouldn’t dare to go head-to-head with.

“What’s there to talk about?” you speak softly, defeated. With a sigh, you shut your phone off. It’s the best way to avoid what’s going on on the internet until you can wrap your head around everything and what you plan to do about it. You’re exhausted already, just attempting to think about it. You let your head fall to the side, the leather squeaking against your head as you look over at your friend. “You heard them, Tarq.”

Everything that you’ve worked for, your privacy, your art, might all be ruined. Gaining your own following in the graphic design community had been hard, and now that you’re about to be known by the world doesn’t sit right with you. How are you supposed to make really work-related connections when people might only be seeking you out to get closer to Cassian? The thought of being used like that makes your stomach roil. Your trust issues are about to be through the roof.

You stare back out at the traffic and squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Your brain hurts and you just want to be in the safety of your home.

“So, you’re dating Cassian Bailey,” Tarquin says, like if he almost can’t believe it himself. A sharp pinch to your shoulder has your eyes shooting open and your body bolting upright, only for the seatbelt to lock and nearly choke you.

Yelping, you glare at your friend, but his ice blue eyes are focused on the road. “Hey! What was that for?”

“For not telling me, obviously,” Tarquin scoffs, glancing over his shoulder and flicking on his turn-signal to switch lanes. You peek out of the passenger mirror, anxious that one of the photographers caught a glimpse of you leaving and has somehow followed you thus far.

“I didn’t tell anyone, if it makes you feel better.”

You’re answered with a roll of his eyes.

You don’t know what to say, how to respond to Tarquin, how to respond to any of this. All you want to do is crawl in a hole and hide away for the next few years. How are you supposed to go about your day normally when everything is anything but normal? You’ll be expected to show up with Cassian now, be there in the crowd for the home matches, you know people will be looking for you.

A headache splits your skull at the thoughts running rampant in your mind. There are so many things to think about now, each and every move you make is going to have to be calculated. You’ll have to think about what you’re going to wear, how you’ll present yourself, thinking about what to say before you speak. Anything you do now will reflect on Cassian’s career, and fans will be blaming you for his mistakes.

It's all too much.

“How long has this been going on?” Tarquin asks softly, as if sensing you’re stuck in your head and need help getting out. You don’t really want to talk about you and Cassian at all right now, but you shove those impending thoughts aside with a sigh, and talk to your friend.

“A little over eight months, now.”

“Is he hung?”

You splutter, choking on your saliva, and Tarquin laughs. This, this is why he’s your favorite coworker. Tarquin isn’t afraid of saying what’s on his mind, no matter how HR unfriendly the question may be.

“I’m not answering that,” you laugh, craning your neck to look out the window, hiding your hot face. The blush staining your cheeks is answer enough.

Tarquin tuts, turning down your street. It’s empty, and you breathe a sigh of relief when he pulls up to your building and there isn’t a crowd of people shouting your name and trying to take your picture. A little of the tension eases from your shoulders.

“Do you want me to pick you up for work in the morning?” Tarquin asks, pulling over to let you out.

You shake your head, gathering your things. “I’m going to call in sick tomorrow. Don’t know what I’m going to do after that. Do you think Alis will let me work from home permanently?” You ask. Alis, your boss, is a strict woman who you can’t seem to figure out if she likes or dislikes anyone that works for her.

Tarquin huffs, “I doubt it. She’s tough as nails, that one.”

“Might just have to quit then, I suppose.”

Your friend’s jaw drops and he looks at you with eyes of betrayal. “You are not going to leave me with the wolves like that! I’ll come drag your ass out of this apartment everyday if I need to.”

“But if I quit, you’ll get to take over Tamlin’s project,” you tease, and his eyes widen comically. He hadn’t thought about that one, apparently. Unlatching the lock, you slide out of the vehicle. You lean down, looking back at your coworker. “Thanks for the ride, Tarq. I’ll text you later.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Feyre and Mor meet you at the door to your apartment, their arms packed with grocery bags filled with candles, ice cream, frozen pizzas, and a lot of alcohol.

“You look like you need it,” Feyre had said when you eyed the bottle of vodka she’d unloaded on your counter.

You do.

You have no appetite, picking at the crust of your slice of pizza. Your stomach stirs sickly, the never-ending thoughts consuming you as you fill your two best friends in on the last eight months you’ve spent with Cassian, from when you’d accidentally run into him at the grocery store late one night after a horrible date gone wrong, to this morning, when you’d slipped into his shirt and hastily left for work. You’d left out the part about Cassian trying to seduce you back into bed, but your friends got most of the story.

“This is insane,” you groan, shoving your plate away from yourself with a sigh. “What the hell am I going to do?”

You hadn’t turned your phone back on, you hadn’t wanted to. You left it in your room when you’d gotten home and changed into your most comforting clothes, stuffing that fucking shirt that got you caught to the bottom of your hamper in rage.

Snuggling deeper into your hoodie, you drag the bottle of vodka closer to yourself, pouring a heavy-handed shot. The alcohol burns your throat on the way down and you grimace, focusing on the burn instead of the pricking at the back of your eyes that hadn’t gone away since you’d all but fallen into your best friends’ arms.

“First, we’re going to need to start brainstorming how to get you out of this. Thankfully, I have a little bit of experience with this sort of thing.”

And she does. Mor has been in the tabloids more than a few times, and most of the time it’s a semi-true story with made-up aspects to really make it seem juicier than it is. She was once photographed coming out of a popular restaurant at the same time actor Harry Hybern was headed in to meet with some friends, and the media had a field day with it. As much as she liked the actor, Mor was upset with the fact that he is thrice her age. You would’ve hated being on the other side of that phone call when she’d dialed the magazine that printed the article, demanding a retraction.

“What’s the first thing you usually do when this sort of thing happens?” you ask. Maybe talking to Mor about her experiences in the public eye will make you feel a little better, if not offer an idea of what you can do yourself.

“See how cute I look in the pictures,” Mor answers, unabashed.

You huff out a laugh in response, Feyre giggling into her glass. “That’s the first thing I do when I see you in the media too, Mor,” she says with a grin, “That vomit green look from the other day? Not your best work, and (Y/N)’s plain black t-shirt tucked into her slacks was so cute! I’m totally stealing that look.”

“Go ahead,” you wave her off because you’re never wearing it again.

Mor glares a little, pouting. “Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Helping our friend and her sudden fame. I’m thinking Cassian’s dick will take care of most of the emotional turmoil,” she says and Feyre laughs a little too hard. Mor reaches into the bag and pulls out a notebook, flipping it to the first page. “We’ll start with some brainstorming—"

A knock at the door startles you from your wallowing. Back straightening, you glance at your friends taking up the other side of the kitchen island, eyes wide and heart hammering in your chest.

“What if it’s more photographers?” you whisper, and your fingers tremble a little so you clench them instead.

Mor and Feyre share a glance, a flash of worry crossing their features as if they hadn’t thought about it.

“I’ll get it,” Feyre decides, placing her half-drunk glass on the counter as she stands. The blanket droops from her shoulders, flopping onto the back of her stool like you want to be right now, a puddle of fabric and emotions. “If it’s them, I’ll say that this is my place and I don’t know who you are.”

“Good idea,” Mor compliments, nudging your glass with the beck of her hand. She gives you a soft, encouraging smile. “Drink up, (Y/N). It’s probably not the paps, but we’ve got to get you less paranoid so you can think better.”

“Not sure getting wasted is going to help with my thinking,” you mutter, tipping your glass back anyway, “But whatever.” Mor is ready when you remove the empty cup from your lips, already pouring you more. You’re glad to have such amazing friends to drop what they’re doing and come over in your time of turmoil, and they haven’t even laid into you yet about keeping this huge secret from them.

Small victories, and all that.

“(Y/N)?” Feyre calls from the other room. She sounds shocked, almost, and the sound of it makes you want to throw the blanket over your head and cower like a fool. “It’s definitely not the paparazzi.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Change Your Ticket Taglist: @justasillylittlegoofyguy @starsinyourseyes @jdeclerc @indiedash @kennedy-brooke @tothestarsandwhateverend @azsteris @obsessivereaderchick @aalxrose @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielover @bookishbroadwaybish @itsinherited @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @vellichor01

[wavesmp3]

[kmg] morning at the edge of time

pairing: mingyu (svt) x reader genre: friends to lovers + hinted fwb + angst + mainly just a mess of a flash fic wc: 2.2.k warnings: perhaps a little swearing but other than that none!

when you wake up that morning, you say some lame joke. he laughs, and a siren goes off in the distance. you listen to that over him. 

it doesn’t take long to pack his things up. in fact, it takes so much less time than you had both planned. you still have an hour before you have to be at the station. 

he zips up the final piece of luggage, an old brown duffel bag that’s filled to the brim. the one you have to tug by the front pocket to get it to close all the way. you fight back something bitter coming up in your throat. it’s one of the same bags he brought on his way here. you remember watching him leave then too.  

“so,” he says finally, standing up from the zipped duffle bag and shoving his hands in his pockets. a boyish little habit that makes you feel like you’re both still 20, finding your footing in this brand new and bright place, holding onto each other and begging the other not to miss home too much. when did you stop missing home? when did he start? “do we have a little time on that schedule of yours for coffee?”

he gestures to the legal pad behind you, a bright yellow paper with your scribbled schedule made in a stressed hurry the night before. a joke, you realize belatedly once you register the sound from between his lips as a laugh. you feel so suddenly exhausted with it hanging in the air. you shrug, “i guess.”

he grins. and you remember being 13 with him by your side. you ignore the shaky feeling in the corner of your eyes. 

–

the train ride is so long, you think an hour in. how many more? you almost ask before remembering how he’s asleep. you stare at him. there are lines across his forehead and around his eyes that weren’t there a couple years ago. last year you found a gray hair right behind his left ear. you look for that sitting here. 

he wakes up just as your finger finds it. 

he squints and yawns at the same time. not even registering your hand shoved in his hair, your face two breaths from him. “morning.” 

he jumps in his seat. your fingers lose the hair. 

“what are you doing?” he asks, voice muddled by the sleep. you know this voice. you used to wake up next to it every morning. there’s a lump in your throat suddenly that chokes down every other emotion you would rather be feeling. 

“i was looking for your gray hair.” 

he perks up. “do i still have it?” 

you want to smile at this. the way he embraces this old age, with open arms and a big bear hug. the way mingyu does with everything. fearless and expectant. like he’s been waiting for it, for you. there was a time when you were the one in his embrace. you want to smile at it, him. but you don’t. or maybe, it’s that you can’t. 

you nod. “i think it’s grown a bit actually.” 

he hums, absently, craning his neck to see something you don’t care to see. “i’m gonna use the bathroom. meet in the dining car?” 

you nod, he leaves, and for the first time since stepping on this train you can fucking breathe. 

—

“doesn’t it feel like the train ride gets longer each time you go back?” he asks. 

you squint at him, picking at a potato before shoving it in your mouth. “not really.”

he shakes his head. “that’s cause you never go.”

and you know he doesn’t mean it with malice, but it’s a stab either way. you scoff. home is many things. it’s where you were born. where your parents live. where you met mingyu. home is many things. but it’s mainly just a tiny town full of memories and people you’d rather forget. 

“i’m sorry,” he offers half-heartedly, noticing your silence a second too late. 

you try your best to shake it off. you don’t want to ruin this day. 

instead you say, “we should get dessert.”

he smiles, big and wide. all teeth showcased right in front of you. somehow, it breaks your heart.

—

“my parents sent me this a while back.” mingyu says, showing you the screen of his phone. 

it’s a picture of when you both were young. 10 or maybe 8 years old. sitting together at the beach, covered in sand and smiling. “i remember that day.” you mutter to him, taking the phone from his hand and staring at the photo. “you made a sand castle, and let me stomp on it.”

“gosh,” mingyu starts with a fake sigh, “you’ve always been an asshole huh?”

you roll your eyes, pushing his phone back towards him. “it was a shit castle anyways.”

—

you and mingyu’s family have been friends since his family moved to town. you must’ve been 4 the first time you met him. you don’t really remember that evening. but you do remember riding your first amusement park ride with him. 

“i know mom,” mingyu says into his phone. you watch the end of his call. he picks at the collar of his shirt. you recognize it as the one his dad gave him for his birthday last year. you wonder if he did that on purpose. he hangs up the phone and gives you a look. 

“hey,” he quips, snapping his fingers in your face, “where are you?”

he knows you so well. “was just thinking.”

“about?” 

you push your chin out a bit, glancing at the scenery running past the window beside you. “i can’t believe it’s been 2 years since i moved from home and joined you in the city.”

“it’s been 6 years for me.”

“i know.” you say, understanding the gravity. the city has this way of pushing you in. like a trap you step into knowingly. “when you moved here for school, i…”

your eyes move back to his face. he tilts his head, waiting for you. “you what?”

you inhale, reaching for the napkin in your lap and folding the corners in. “i don’t know, i just never imagined that i’d also move.

he scrunches his entire face. “be honest, did you miss me so much that you moved just to be closer to me?”

you take the napkin in your lap and throw it in his face. he catches it snickering. “but seriously,” you start, exhaling and watching him fold the napkin back up and place it on the table, “i don’t know if i would’ve moved if you hadn’t done it before me.”

“and now look at you,” his lips curl upwards, “you love the city.”

you match the motion. “i love the city.” more than you ever thought you would.

“how long do you think you’ll stay there?”

he asks it casually, but the question makes your heart stop. it makes this bile that’s been sitting in your gut ever since mingyu told you for the first time that he was thinking about moving back home rise up again and burn the back of your throat. 

you cough. “forever hopefully.”

he gives you this look. this raised brow and side eye look that says you don’t mean that. that mocks you and means to tell you: you have no idea what you’re talking about. eventually, you’ll do what you’ve done our entire lives and follow me back home too. 

“i mean it.” you say steadily. he doesn’t flinch. neither do you. 

“home is different now, you know–”

you scoff. how many times can you and him have the same conversation.”

“–minghao doesn’t even really come into town that much anymore and–”

“stop it, mingyu.”

he bites the inside of his cheek. “why won’t you even try?”

—

you don’t like to think about minghao. the three years you spent loving someone who just up and left. you don’t like to think about him because there’s a part of you that isn’t sure if you ever really got over him.

—

“it’s just time.” mingyu says, voice soft and quiet. “i think it’s just time for me to go back home.”

the train rattles a bit. you stop your shoulders from shaking. “why?”

he just shakes his head and sighs. “it just feels right.”

the words are like a splinter, wedging itself into the pad of your index finger. 

“i’m sorry.” he tells you. 

you go to the bathroom and pretend not to hear it.

—

you stare at your face in the mirror. you never liked the long train rides; there’s a grayness evident in your face. and it makes you think about mingyu’s gray hair that’s grown longer. it makes you think about the first time found it. 

shortly, after you had moved to the city, you and mingyu’s friendship had taken a different form. nights spent laughing turned to something deeper, something blurry and messy. a kiss, a confession, a night spent together. you’ve always loved mingyu. he had been your best friend for so many years. and so it just felt so natural that your friendship would take such a shape. it didn’t feel awkward or hard or forced. it just felt like you loved him and it felt comfortable and honestly, just a tiny bit, it–

it felt like home. 

—

the first thing he says when you retake your seat across from him is: “do you think you’ll ever forgive me for moving back?”

you rest your elbows on the table, hold up your chin with your hands, and stare at him. his eyes look so brown. inhaling, you say, “eventually.” 

he chuckles lightly. “we had some good times together in the city.”

you smile, and it feels like a breath of fresh air. “we really did.”

“and our friendship has nothing to do with distance.”

“i know.” you shrug slightly. “i’m just going to miss doing life with you by my side.”

he frowns, ever so slightly. “you know i’ll always lov-”

the train screeches, masking his voice, his confession with a sound so unpleasant and yet somehow better. you know what he has to say. you don’t want to hear it.

you stare at your finger, where his words pierced your skin. you don’t see the small stick of wood anymore. it’s been sucked in. bitterly, you think, there will always be a piece of you inside me.

—

the train stops in your town eventually. you both grab his bags and head out onto the platform. 

you sit on a bench just outside waiting for his parents to pick you guys up. it’s colder up here than it is in the city. it nips and bites at the bits of your skin that’s exposed. mingyu pulls out a scarf from one of his bags and wraps it around your shoulders. 

you recognize the color of it and the pattern. you gave this scarf to him 8 years ago. you can’t believe he still has it. you can’t believe he lugged it with him to the city. you can’t believe he lugged it back. 

you look at him, really look at him, and realize how terrified you are. you’ve spent so much of your life with mingyu. you don’t want to remember what life looks like without him. 

“you’re my best friend in the whole world.” you tell him, placing a hand over his. 

the wind picks up, picking and poking at your eyes. you feel a tear fall down your cheek. 

you know he’s sad to say goodbye to you and to the city, but you also know that more than that, he’s happy. excited to be back home and closer to his friends and family. you can see it in his eyes. you can see it in his gray hair sticking up with the wind. 

“i’m just not ready to come back yet otherwise i would.”

he looks at you, like he really pities you. you hate it. “you did come back with me.”

you shake your head. “otherwise, i would stay.” 

he pulls you into a hug. you relish in the warmth. you’ve been in this position many times before. but never like this. you aren’t in college anymore. you know you’ll never be this close to him again. and maybe that’s what makes this all so painful. maybe that’s why when you pull away from the hug you catch a glint of something sharp in his hand. you look down at your torso and see your entire body carved open, with his hands digging inside, searching for the words you stole from him. maybe it wasn’t a splinter. maybe it wasn’t an accident. but why won’t he let you have that at least? why does he have to leave and take every trace of him with him?

a car pulls up. mingyu’s father. you recognize the paint job on it. you both stand. he faces you facing him.

“are you happy?” you ask him. 

he smiles, wrinkles appearing all over his face. “i can’t wait. 

you help him and his father pack everything into the car. you say hi to his mother. she asks you to stay for dinner; you tell her how you have to get back to the city. 

you say your final goodbye to mingyu. and watch his dad’s car pull away. you don’t know when you’ll see him next. and it’s only once the car is entirely out of view, do you realize you’re still wearing the scarf you gifted him. you take one last inhale of your hometown and board the train back

[edosianorchids901]

Holding On Forever

Ace Omens Hugfest 2024 prompt - "a sleepy hug"

“Oh my gracious, that was such a long day!” Aziraphale slumped back in the Bentley’s passenger seat, utterly drained. Oh, he could practically doze off right here. “I don’t think I ever want to talk to another person ever again.”

Crowley snorted. “Not counting me, I hope?”

“You’re not a person,” Aziraphale said through a yawn.

Another snort. “Wow. Thanks. Terrific friend, you are.”

“Oh, you know what I mean!” It was getting rather hard to think, everything muddled. And oh, how Aziraphale’s back ached. “You’re a… a… not human. That’s all I mean. Humans are people.”

“Yes. They are. You’re as groggy as I am, aren’t you?” Crowley wrenched on the steering wheel, and the Bentley hurtled down the drive. “I told you that you were overdoing it today. We shouldn’t have done the whole dinner thingy.”

Aziraphale sighed. Crowley had told him, but there were simply so many interesting antiques at the auction, and then lots of rare book collectors to scope out over the “dinner thingy”. But he’d run out of energy quite badly partway through, and pushed himself entirely too hard. And likely pushed Crowley too hard, too. “Are you all right, my dear? Okay to drive?”

“Hn, yeah. Can drive fine. Besides, my car will stop me if I’m about to drive off the road.” Yawning, Crowley patted the steering wheel.

“You didn’t answer whether you were all right.”

“Ngh.”

“I answered you earlier.”

“Yeah, and you claimed you were, and then totally ignored me when I said we should head home.” With a soft hiss, Crowley flicked his hand. Their gate swung open, and the Bentley rocketed through, headlamps illuminating the garden. “So no, I’m not very all right. My legs are bloody killing me, and I’ll be lucky if I can move tomorrow.”

Even as sleepy as he was, guilt tugged at Aziraphale’s tummy. He reached over and over rubbed Crowley’s arm. “I’m sorry. I thought you were more worried about me, rather than wanting to go home because you were in pain.”

“I was. Worried about you, I mean.” Crowley didn’t quite smile—his expression had been fixed in his default glower all day—but he softened a bit. “And s’ okay. I’m not pissed off or anything, just grumpy.”

Aziraphale had to smile at that. Yes, when it came to Crowley, there was a significant distinction between real anger and his usual irritability. And it was no wonder he was so irritable, when he was in so much pain. Aziraphale had found himself getting increasingly snippy with humans as the day wore on and he began to ache more.

“I think a hot bath may be in our future tomorrow,” Aziraphale said as the Bentley screeched to a halt right in front of the cottage. “We can have a nice long soak.”

“Sounds terrific, especially if we mix it with wine.” Groaning, Crowley shoved the door open, then grabbed his cane and struggled out of the car.

Aziraphale struggled on his way out too, rather more than usual. Ordinarily, his back just ached, a mild deterrent to doing too many things in one day. As he found himself with rather limited energy, it was rarely too much of a problem. Today, it was certainly a problem. “Ooh dear…”

“Gosh, you really screwed up, didn’t you?” Crowley asked. He limped around the Bentley and took Aziraphale’s arm, helping him straighten up. “Want tea or cocoa, or do you need to go straight to bed?”

“I want to sleep.” Aziraphale didn’t even want to spend time getting to bed. He was far too groggy, his remaining dregs of energy failing fast.

And Crowley was so close. Aziraphale stepped even closer, wrapped his arms around the narrow waist, and buried his face in Crowley’s shoulder.

“Er,” Crowley said, awkwardly catching hold of Aziraphale. He wobbled a little, then steadied as he shifted his weight to lean more solidly on his cane. “Why are we hugging?”

“Because I’m sleepy,” Aziraphale mumbled into Crowley’s chest. “And you’re nice.”

“M’ really not.”

“Comfy.”

“Uh, okay. I guess. M’ not exactly the ideal pillow you are, though.” Crowley rubbed his back, light circles that felt nice even if they couldn’t relieve the throbbing pain all along Aziraphale’s spine. “Should probably have a drink of some sort to relax before bed. S’ part of the routine, and I bet neither one of us will be able to sleep if we don’t. D’ya wanna head in?”

Aziraphale kept his arms locked around Crowley. He could happily hold onto Crowley forever. “I don’t want to move.”

“Well, me neither, but I really don’t think sleeping standing up is gonna do wonders for my legs or your back.” Crowley pressed a slow, tender kiss to his neck, then nuzzled into his hair. “C’mon, angel. I know you’re outta energy, but you’ll feel better if we go have some cocoa.”

“Oh, all right.” Yawning, Aziraphale let go, and then immediately captured Crowley’s free hand. “I know I ordinarily insist on making cocoa properly, but in this instance…”

He yawned again, unable to finish his sentence. Crowley squeezed his hand and coaxed him into motion. “Miracled it is. I’ll make you a proper cup tomorrow, provided I can stand.”

“Thank you, dear boy.” Aziraphale managed a sleepy smile. “You really are quite good to me, you know.”

Crowley’s scowl softened again, this time into a full smile. “I know.”

[yandere-sins]

Good Omega

a/n: Halloween part one! I was actually a bit surprised someone would request A/B/O!AU for this, but I can never deny a bit of omegaverse for the soul ♥

Fandom: Original Content     Pairings: Yandere!Alpha!Werewolf x GN!Omega!Reader   Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Lemon!, Omegaverse kind of sexual, Overall horniness, going into heat, Genderneutral genitals and then one cock, Creampie mention, Impregnation wish, ...Beastiality? Do Werewolves count in that? It is lowkey consensual tho lol, But of course Dub-Con), Violence (Off-screen murder mention, Blood mention, Claws mention, Biting/Marking mention, Minor Injuries like scratches and bruises, Fear, Dread), Hunting/Chasing (non-kink)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

With your breathing wrecked from the untrained sprint your forced your legs into, you crashed into the thicket surrounding you.

The forest was never-ending tree trunks in your way, bushes tearing at your clothes and skin, sucking out the blood from your cuts and bruises. Dread coated your tongue, and fear choked you, tightening your throat so you could neither swallow nor scream. There was no way for air to go in or out of your lungs, but even so, you kept pushing onwards.

But there was no escape.

"Human," the creature snarled, its heavy body crashing into the trunks behind you, claws ripping off the bark of the trees it clawed into in a cacophony of horror. "My omega."

Its snout sniffing after you was so loud, so eager. So pleased. He could have been right behind you or still far away, yet, the sound grated over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your breath hitched, and a low growl of knowing echoed through the forest.

"You can't run from me. I know where you are."

Falling to his four legs, he left thuds whenever he landed on them, bolting, running, hunting. You choked back a scream as you kept moving, an especially tough branch getting stuck on your shirt, ripping off a scrap of it. You turned, briefly, holding the side of your chest and feeling the scratch bleed over your fingers. It will keep him busy, you thought, hurrying along before he could catch up.

You didn't deserve any of this. Not the exercise much too hard for your poor body, and not the pain going through every muscle while adrenaline and fear kept you moving against their wishes. Your Halloween had been supposed to be a fun party night with friends, walk the streets, laugh at silly costumes, and admire the carved pumpkins. But when you sat down on some tree trunks, laughing and drinking, things turned into the horror movies you'd secretly watch when you were still a teen, thinking they could never be real.

The costume had looked so sick but amazing. Faux fur intricately weaved into a bodice and mask. No one had feared the person approaching your group, everyone much more in awe than anything. But you couldn't have known that this wasn't a friendly encounter. That the full moon illuminating the forest ground had been an indication, the warning signs in front of the forest entrance weren't just for the common wildlife, but every life!

A howl rattled through your bones as the werewolf following you must have found your blood-smeared piece of fabric. It made your gut turn, wanting to throw up the alcohol you had consumed. But there was no time to idle. No time at all. Your core clenched with ecstatic fear as the sound vibrated through your ears, a throbbing sensation going through you every time the beast did anything to let you know it was right behind you.

You had no idea what was wrong with you, a part of your brain so muddled by your feelings it wanted you to lay down into a submissive mess, ass presented in the air for your pursuer. At the same time, your sanity and reason were appalled by your sudden need pulsing between your legs.

"I'll make you mine," the creature growled, no longer occupied by the shabby piece of fabric after having a whiff of you. "Cease this chase, Omega, or I'll make sure you won't be walking for a long time after I'm done with you."

There was something excitingly dominant about the creature calling you his and asking you to give up. You knew—you knew—it was crazy to consider, but maybe you were infected by a poison that had gotten into your bloodstream after getting cuts and stings all over your body in this forest? Perhaps it was the alcohol? But whatever excuse, you felt your face flush with heat, and you bit back a moan.

More growling. More throbbing.

You resisted and kept moving. But for how long would you be able to? When would it stop? Where was the exit to the forest? Did you want to leave?

"Fuck!" You could hear his fangs snapping angrily as his body bumped into the trees you had just passed. He was so close to you now, and a breathtaking odor filled your nose, making you gasp, your legs wobbly.

"I can smell you, Omega. You're so fucking wet. Why do you keep running from me?!"

"Go… go away!" Finally, you found your voice, screaming the words as loudly as you could, desperation and fear choking the building lust inside you into silence. That monster killed your friends! Chopped them right up, and you were next! This was no time to get horny! Your body's reaction to being chased by a six-foot-tall monstrosity was genuinely unhelpful. Why did it make you want to spread your legs in the middle of this dirty, thorny forest ground so badly?

"NEVER!" it echoed back, and you shuddered, the last resistance giving away with your legs that could no longer support you.

Sinking to the ground, it wasn't the painful roots and leaves combo you expected, but soft moss welcoming you into a cool embrace. The air, too, felt icy even though it had been an unexpectedly warm day. Had the temperature dropped, or were you just unimaginably hot from all the running?

The heavy footsteps approached you, animalistic snarling and teeth snapping together gave you a visceral reaction shooting through your whole body and into your loins. Whimpering, you squeezed your legs together, trying to hold back the tears as the sight of the monster came into view. Clasping a hand over your mouth, a smell so sweet it threatened to overwhelm you with pleasure, your heart demanding to be let out of your chest while your remaining clothes got soaked in your juices.

"Please be quick," you sobbed into your palm, tears overflowing. You didn't want to die. You didn't want to be mere blood dripping out of his murderous snout with teeth sharper than any thorn caught against your skin. Closing your eyes, you were shivering as he drew closer, his gaze scanning over you. It was like he could see right through you, and you hoped his nose wasn't actually good enough to really smell all the nasty reactions you had to him. He wasn't a very good-looking monster, shaggy, unkempt. And yet, at the same time, you wanted to wrap your arms around his neck, let him take you one last time before you'd die.

But now that your body had given up, what else was there for prey to do but wish for a quick and painless death?

"Omega," the werewolf snarled, lowering onto all four feet so he could crouch over you. The snout drew along your face, down to your neck and your instinct was to bare it to him, the slimy feeling of his tongue dragging down your skin, the long muscle wrapping around your throat appreciatively, making the small scratches sting but your heart race.

"Good," he grunted, the praise hitting you with a jolt of pleasure right in your core. Letting out another whimpered moan, you bit your finger, trying to muffle your reactions, and he grunted in response. "Finally you get it."

"Get what?" you babbled. "What's happening to me?"

One clawed hand found its way under your shirt, and you gasped, feeling the rough pads of his palm stroking over your skin, a burning hot sensation left behind after every touch. Lowering his body to yours, he gripped your waist—looking mightily tiny in his huge grip—and pressed you up and against him, a bulging, throbbing resistance meeting your hips as you crashed into his.

This time, you could not hold back the gasp, and he took his chance, sliding his tongue down yours, burying it deep in your throat. You were choking on the eagerly exploring muscle, a mix of saliva and blood coating the rough texture of his tongue. Yet, you couldn't help but relish in the affection, cupping his elongated face with your hands. Wiggling only caused more friction between your bodies, and you weren't the only one moaning. However, the creature's version sounded gruff and desperate, not as lovely as yours.

"You're in heat, Omega. When we met, your body recognized what it was meant to be. Soon you'll need me so much it'll drive you insane."

"I- I don't… what?" you asked, dazed by the disgusting yet almost intoxicating taste still running down your throat even after the werewolf released you. He made no sense to you, neither his words nor why he kept calling you "Omega" or why he hadn't killed you yet. In fact, he was almost gentle handling you, as much as his mutated body allowed. "What will happen?"

"You'll go insane, little Omega. I will have to rut you, fill you with my seed. Mark you, nest you, take care of you. Until you are satisfied with me, I won't rest."

Fuck. What was he going to do? Rut you? Fill you? Mark you? Didn't that sound divine–

"WHAT?" you screamed, suddenly snapping back to reality. His ears folded in an angry expression, the sound positively jarring to sensitive ears. "No! No, no, no! I– No! I can't!"

Your last sentence came out in a pitiful whine, a sound you didn't even know you could make.

"You can," he growled, pressing his hips forward, his cock long and demanding and ready for your tender body to swallow. "And you will!"

"No! No, please, no!" Sobs releasing from your throat, you clasped your hand over your mouth while watching the werewolf's expression grow irritated again. You didn't want to die. You didn't want to die. But you couldn't do this either!

"I'm scared," you whimpered, and the werewolf breathed out in a kind of long sigh, though he relaxed some of the tension in his body.

"No need, little Omega. I'll prepare you. Make good use of this tongue for you. I'll take care of what's mine, and all of this–"

Sitting back on his knees, he gripped your body, lifting you from the ground and onto his lap. You gasped in surprise as he pressed you tightly against his chest, slowly standing up while carrying you without so much but a huff. "All of this omega is mine. I waited so long. I deserve this."

"I still don't understand…" you whimpered fearfully, but your legs betrayed you, wrapping tightly around his waist and pressing you against him. The werewolf let out an appreciative hiss as your fingers scratched over his skin, a purr building and rumbling in his chest. You still didn't know what was going on, except for how warm this body was and how tired you suddenly felt, snuggled into the surprisingly fluffy fur of the monster while his purr vibrated deliciously through you.

"You will, Human," he assured you, putting these strong, crooked legs into motion as he carried you back deep into the forest. Looking over his shoulder, you saw the space opening up beyond a few more trees, your eyes widening as you realized how close you had been to escaping the forest. Perhaps not the werewolf, but almost you had done it. Though it didn't really matter now that you were holding on to him, letting his comforting scent embrace you.

Every movement rubbed you against the creature's body, a massive, thick cock pressing at the entrance between your spread legs. Only the fabrics between you two kept him from rutting right up inside you. Moaning, you buried your face deeper into his shoulder, getting drenched in aphrodisiacal musk, making not just your mouth water. Without warning, you opened your lips, bared your teeth, and bit down.

The monster staggered, a long growl snarling out of his snout before he regained composure, though his steps quickened, urged by desire. "Patience," he gritted out through his teeth, though his husky voice sounded immensely satisfied. His words did not apply to him as his cock twitched against your rear demandingly, the taste of his blood inflaming you more.

"I built you a nest where I'll claim you, and you might too, if you so desire, little omega."

"Mhm," you sighed, leaning against his shoulder drowsily. Nest. That sounded good. Cozy and warm. Hopefully full of blankets and pillows and more of his scent. How far were you gone that you wanted to be buried in his fur while clinging to him?

"Good omega," he purred—purred—and you threw your head back in relish as the sound alone almost pushed you over the edge. "You're so needy and ready for me, aren't you?"

Fuck, you were. There was no denying it.

You hated this. You didn't want to be with this monster, much less accept what he promised to do to you. But your body betrayed you, writhing in his grasp, letting his cock dry hump you all the way to his cave. You knew as the darkness swallowed you that you were done for, but all you could think about was just one more bite, the comfort of a nest, and a cock filling you like the missing puzzle piece to your body.

You knew he'd give it to you, all of it. And when he laid you down into the softest of hides, mixed with the fabrics of clothes, picnic blankets, and anything one could imagine to be found in the forest, you spread your legs, letting him rip off your clothes and cover you with the warmth of his fur before preparing you as he promised, the orgasms never ending as you begged and pleaded for more like a good little slut. Eager to be filled with his seed until your stomach would swell with his pups.

All while you didn't know and didn't care that you were lolling in the bloody clothes of your friends.

It was a small cost for finding your alpha. Some lives in exchange for learning about your true calling. Your destiny.

Because you were a good omega.

[anjelicawrites]

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader x Osferth and all the combinations thereof.

Synopsis: the lovely anon requested OG!Poly either prompt #1 or #8 from this prompt list. I went with #8 and for a University!AU because why not?

Warnings: a dash of angst with a happy ending, kissing, edging, biting, fingering, oral (f receiving), discussion of limits, a bit of demeaning language, p in v sex, anal, titty sucking.

A/N: your request is finally here nonnie! Sorry for the long wait!

NSFW and 18+ only please!

“Spread your legs baby, that’s it… Wider.”

Aemond’s voice is husky in your ears, Osferth’s big hands help you open your legs more, until he can hook them behind his, baring you to your other lover’s burning eye.

This is not how you expected to end your night but it’s definitively a better way than what you’d imagined.

When you started uni, you never expected to find yourself in a three way relationship by the third year, and not with Osferth, the sweetest member of the Tau Lambda Ki fraternity, and Aemond, the brother of the head of the other fraternity, The Beacon.

You three had all the reasons to keep your relationship under wraps, but you never expected Aemond and Osferth to disappear from your life right around graduation. You never hoped whatever you three shared to survive university, but that they would drop you without a word, and Aemond… You don’t want to go there, you don’t want to think about the sweet moments you three had shared, and the filthy ones, and the movies you three watched together, and the songs and…

You abruptly stand up before you start crying and ruin your make up, the chair falling behind you in the haste of your movements,: those two imbeciles don’t want to be in your life anymore? Well, you feel sorry for them! You look so cute in your summer dress and you three could have a last encore, before leaving university: their loss! You’re going to the party all the fraternities have organized and have all the fun you can get, and if you’re hooking up with someone? Even better!

You can feel the thump of the bass in your blood an in your head, it beats with every breath you take and cancels the pain stabbing you when you see all the happy couples kissing around you; not that you, Osferth and Aemond could even think about pulling a stunt like that, but…

Cursing you stomp towards the bar, hellbent in getting drunk; on your way there you see Osferth’s friends in the distance and longing stabs you again. Angry you slam the money on the counter and drink the vodka down in one gulp, the alcohol burning you throat, the peachy taste lost.

You drown two more shots before throwing yourself in the sea of bodies again, swaying following the people around you, skin on skin your body moves around the dance floor, with your eyes closed you don’t see where you’re landing, the alcohol muddling your desire to care.

You feel yourself becoming one with the people around you, their heartbeats yours, your sweat mixing with theirs, their skin brushing on yours as you glide through the crowd, the flash of the strobe lights painting galaxies under your closed eyelids.

You feel hands on your hips, warm and big they glide over the cotton of your dress and you push yourself against the foreign person touching you, your ass moving against their front as you feel them hugging you from behind to pull you backwards some more, until you two are hidden from everyone else.

“Finally found you!” Osferth’s voice is still soft in your ear, even when he has to fight the blast of music deafening all of you. “I’ve missed you, my sweet.”

You tense up immediately and turn around to face him; he’s standing with a big smile on his face, his hands still on your hips.

“You must be kidding me!” You growl, swatting his hands away.

“Why? What happened?”

Without even thinking, you slap the kicked puppy expression off his face and storm away, his voice calling after you.

In a whirlwind you run outside, barely missing a couple of waiters and their trays. You don’t even say you’re sorry, pain and rage blind you, so are the tears welling up in your eyes; you’re not sure if someone has seen you, and you don’t care, you yell at the girl working at the cloakroom to give you back your jeans jacket and start running towards your dorm as soon as she manages.

You realize how stupid you have been when you can hear no sounds around you and see how dark the night is, moonless, the road barely illuminated by the sparse street lights.

The club is in the former manufacturing part of town; while most of the firms have moved away from the area, the buildings are almost all boarded up and closed, giving the neighborhood a creepy atmosphere. You are positive no one is around, but can you be sure, with all the overgrown vegetation where the parking lots used to be? Are small animals causing the sounds you hear around yourself?

Anxious you tighten the lapels of your jacket closed over the neckline of your dress, walking faster when you start to hear footfalls behind you: turning back is not an option anymore and there’s no shuttle bus working on this road. You curse under your breath and start walking faster, curling the strap of your bag around your hand to use it as a weapon as you try to book an Uber: you need to get to the main road, where people are and you can be seen!

The footfalls sound closer to you, dangerously so, and you break into a run when you start seeing the shapes of cars in the distance: you need to get there, it’s not too far away, not too far…

A hand curls around your free wrist and pulls you backwards, out of fear you use the momentum to swing your bag to your assailant's head, screaming like a mad banshee you keep hitting and hitting, until someone else tries to grab your swinging arm and you kick them in the shin, teeth snapping like a rabid dog.

“It’s us! Are you out of your mind???”

“Aemond? Osferth?”

You walk a couple of steps backwards, eyes leveling the two men who are staring at you with their hands raised in front of their chests; you must have hit Aemond, his usually perfect hair is mussed, the eye patch askew on his face.

“What were you two thinking?” You’re screaming with adrenaline and fear still coursing through your veins.

“Why were you running? We couldn’t keep up!” Aemond bites back, angry and hurt.

“I’m all alone in a bloody back road and I head footsteps! What was I supposed to do?” You march until you are face to face with him. “And why do you care now?”

Aemond and Osferth share a perplexed glance and then stare at you owlishly; if you weren’t that angry you’d laugh in their faces.

“We always care?” Osferth approaches you cautiously with his hands still raised.

“Do you?” You whip your head around and Osferth steps back, scared and confused. “You two disappeared on me! Barely responded to my texts. And you Aemond, I know what you’re doing with your professor!”

“You’re jumping to the wrong conclusion.” Aemond answers coldly, his back straightening unintentionally. “You should get a grip on yourself.”

For a second you are too surprised to say anything, to move, even: how dares he?

Your hand connects with his scarred cheek before you can even realize what you’re doing, the only sound you can hear is Osferth’s surprised yelp.

“Go fuck yourself Aemond, better, go fuck your professor. I thought you were better than that!”

You turn around, you feel the tears threatening to fall again and you’re never going to let them see how much it hurts; Osferth’s hand grabs your wrist before you can walk away form them.

“Aemond is acting like an idiot…”

“Hey!”

“… but he would never do that to you, to us.”

“Let me go, now!” Your voice trembles and it’s so hard not to cry.

“Let us explain, sweet beloved.”

“There’s nothing else to say. You two have moved on, I would have appreciated the head’s up.” You sob.

“You’re such an idiot. Sometimes I wonder why I have fallen in love with you.”

Aemond’s words freeze you on the spot: love? When did any of you talked about love?

“You know how hard it is to switch law schools so late in the year?” Aemond adds, trying to keep his own rage under control.

You turn around to look into his eye: now you’re the one confused.

“The reason why we haven’t been able to be more present is that we have been trying to switch to the uni where you’re going to do your teacher training.” Osferth tells you, gently.

“No, wait, what?” You can feel the gears in your brain halt to a stop.

“Alys, Professor Rivers, was helping me with switching law schools and Osferth has managed to get a place in a different Theology School than the one he applied for earlier this year. All to be with you!”

You feel your knees buckle and it’s all thanks to Osferth’s hold on you that you don’t fall on your ass.

“Why didn’t you two tell me?”

“We couldn’t risk getting your hopes up, not without being sure.” Osferth gently cups your cheek.

You let your face fall against Osferth’s chest, shaking with all the violent emotions that have been plaguing you for days and he hugs you tight with one hand, with the other he grabs Aemond so that he can hold you from behind, effectively sandwiching you between them.

“Why are you crying?” Aemond asks against your hair, aren’t you supposed to be happy?

You don’t answer immediately, your brain is still frozen up, all the information hitting your overworked gears: coming with you? Changing schools?

“You said you love me!”

You can feel Osferth’s chest rumble with a laugh he can barely control, behind you Aemond huffs.

“We always had, sweet beloved.” Osferth murmurs against your hair.

“You never expressed it! With words!”

“Did you need us to?” Aemond asks behind you, surprised.

You manage to evade their gentle hold to stare into their surprised faces: for being two guys in your age group, they are pretty smart and make you forget that they are still men, therefore they need to be told to do things, even expressing their feelings.

“Yes, Aemond. How do you expect me to infer that?”

Aemond’s brows knit at your question: wasn’t it implied to all your interactions?

“Why did you think we were with you?” Osferth looks even more perplexed than Aemond is.

“The great sex? We had loads of that.”

“We spent time together, gevie, why would I waste my time watching those awful horror movies, if not because I am in love with you?”

“Because we fucked afterwards. We always did, after any sort of activity we did together. I thought it was the endgame here.”

And it hurt. If you are being honest with yourself, all your couplings with them had been great, the best you ever had, but left you with a sour taste in your mouth when you had started to develop unwanted feelings you believed were unreciprocated. How were you supposed to know? Aemond is intense, but never expresses his feelings outward and Osferth… Osferth goes around a lot: under the cute smile he’s insatiable and very good in bed, he's probably slept with all the sorority members on campus, and some of the fraternity guys as well (you don’t know he’s stopped after the fist time he’s gotten a taste of you). Based on all of this, why would anyone think those two idiots are in love?

“Perhaps we had some communication issues.”

You bark a laugh at that: Osferth wants to become a pastor and being able to communicate is kinda big in that line of work, you have always thought, and he can’t even let you know how he feels about you.

“What’s so funny? I wasn’t joking!”

“I’ll tell you later, Osferth.” You answer.

“What about you? Why didn’t you say it out loud?” Aemond asks, so aggravated you can’t help but laugh again.

“First, what makes you think I am reciprocating your feelings?”

You see the panic under the mask of coldness Aemond always wears: you love when you manage to make him shake in his boots.

“Second, to then see you run away? You don’t say ‘I love you’ to the guys you think are in just for a booty call, you dummy!”

For a second you are afraid he’s going to faint himself, if you have to go by the way his body visibly relaxes, then his pride wins and he grabs you by your arms, forcing you to stumble against him.

“You’re going to pay for that.” The darkness in his voice makes your knees weak.

“And there I thought you were the one who likes it when I get the upper hand.” You growl back, your hands managing to grab his long hair to pull on them.

“Now, now, now.” Osferth hugs you from behind. “Shall we move this somewhere more private?”

“Do you two deserve it? After the stunt you two pulled?” You love fucking with his brain as well.

“We might have planned this wrong…” Aemond starts.

“You did, I wanted to be clear from the get go!”

“Whatever, Osferth. We thought it was a good plan…”

“What he’s trying to say is: we fucked up, please let us make this up to, please?”

You don’t answer immediately, you love that it’s them now marinating into uncertainty.

“And how do you plan do reach your goal?”

Aemond hums, the vibration from his chest travels pleasantly through your body.

“Let us show you once we are somewhere less… open.” He answers.

“You can do better than that, Aemond.”

Purposely you slide up his long body, making sure that your breasts are pushing against the expensive cotton of his shirt; the pupil of his eye devours your movements and you can feel his cock harden against you.

“Bookshop date, on my card.”

“Interesting, but you can do better.”

Osferth snickers behind you, he knows what you're after.

“Sushi at that super expensive place, afterwards.”

“And…?”

Aemond uhms, his eye focused on the cleavage pushing out of the low neckline of your dress.

“Then he drives you somewhere nice and secluded to ravish you on the hood of his car.” Osferth says.

“What? No! Leave Vhagar out of this!”

“Aren’t you tired of standing at the side of the road?”

“Don't think you can get off the hook so easily, mister!” You tell Osferth. “And keep your hands off my tits!”

Osferth’s hands stop their ascent up your ribcage and he makes a sad sound behind you.

“What are you offering?” You ask him.

“I’ll do the packing for you. All your books.”

“Only that?”

Osferth puts his chin on your shoulder, you can imagine how much like a kicked puppy he looks now.

“I’ll wear the vibrating cock ring at the next Mass.” He concedes.

“See, it wasn't that hard.” You turn your head and kiss his cheek. “What about you Aemond? Do we have a deal?”

Aemond's eye falls on Osferth's hands, now cupping your soft breasts: he knows he's gonna fold, but he wishes he’d driven a better bargain.

“You don't hop on Vhagar’s hood with your heels on and I choose the place we go.”

“Fair enough.” You say with a smile. “Let's go home.”

Home is actually Aemond's flat. Like the good old money baby that he is, he doesn't have to live in a dorm or a fraternity, like you and Osferth; having a safe space like that helped you three keep the relationship hidden. You three have christened every surface and furniture, yet getting there makes your heart do somersaults every time.

You don't mind not driving shotgun, when you notice how eager Osferth is to open the passenger door for you; the car is old and sleek but, as all sports cars, doesn't have that much space in the back, for this reason you don't expect Osferth to follow you there and lay on you to start kissing you ferociously, his whole weight keeping you flat on the expensive leather, his hips grounding against the cotton of your panties, the short skirt of your dress bunched around your hips.

“I’m going to have your arse for that!” Comes from the general area of the driving seat.

“Please Aemond, don’t threaten me with the promise of a good time.” Osferth’s voice is muffled by your breasts but the moan he exhales can be heard perfectly.

Aemond doubles down on the gas, smoothly the car rumbles under your body, the vibrations adding to the pleasure of Osferth’s lips sucking on your nipple: you’ve missed his hunger for your body and his need to drive you mad, as much as you did his filthy moans of absolute pleasure at your taste.

“Out!” Aemond barks the second he’s parked Vhagar in the garage of the exclusive building he’s living in.

During the ride up to the highest floor you three have to play it nice, keeping your hands for yourselves, not wanting your effusions to be taped by security; when the door closes behind you three, you know you have nowhere to hide.

Fueled by all the pent up sexual frustration of the past few weeks, and the little show in Vhagar’s back seat, Aemond grabs the hem of your cute dress to roughly pull it off you, his hands go to your ass to pull you up, your legs falling around his trim waist as he kisses you, possessive and hungry, teeth nibbling at your lower lip, cock already hard against the wet patch on your panties.

Aemond throws you on his big bed, his eye focused on the cute matching lingerie set you’re wearing.

“You wanted to get laid.” He growls. “You went to the stupid party to hook up.”

“So what? You two ignored me for so long. I have needs.” You answer, opening your legs for them.

“You naughty little thing.” Osferth’s bare front connects with Aemond’s clothed back. “I think some punishment is in order.”

“Yes, yes it is.” He says, hunger dripping from every word.

You arch your back and slip your fingers under your panties with a long moan: you’re drenched and your clit is puffy already.

“Tell us.” Osferth murmurs in your ear when he sits behind you. “Did you touch yourself?”

“I did. Ah!” You whine when his bigger fingers start teasing your wet hole.

“Did you imagine us?”

“Like hell! I used anyone else but you two! I was angry!”

This earns you a harsh squeeze of your clit and Osferth’s promise to thoroughly punish your cunt when you two are alone.

“Let’s count your offenses.” Aemond’s voice is so low you can barely heard him. “Slapped Osferth then me, pulled that little stunt after our confession… What else? Ah, yes: you were ready to get laid without us and didn’t play with yourself thinking about us.”

“I was angry!” You try to retort.

“That’s the only reason why I am only going to edge you five times and not more: just one for every transgression you did.” Aemond says, calmly.

Before you can say anything, Osferth stops you.

“Do you truly want to risk adding to that? Because I have ideas.”

Oh, the smirk in his voice! You’ll make him pay as soon as possible, for the moment you elect to frown.

“I don’t think this cunt deserves any attention, but I’ve missed your taste too much.” Aemond growls with his hands on your knees, pushing your knees apart to the point where you feel your tendons pull, Osferth’s knees keeping you in position as Aemond darkly murmurs against your clothed pussy.

Aemond’s hands are big on your hips, his fingers grabbing at your skin possessively, least you forget to whom you belong to; he mouths at your clothed center, the friction of the wet cotton on your oversensitive clit and his quick tongue make you arch and whine, seeking the pleasure he so carelessly gives you, only to remove his face with a dirty laugh, when pleasure crests, only to stop abruptly.

You know better than complain, but you can’t help frustrated sound that escapes your lips.

“Thank him, sweet beloved. He’s doing this for you, for your character.” Osferth murmurs in your ear, hotly, his hands under the cups of your bra. “It opens on the front?” He adds, surprised.

“If we hadn’t already decided on five, that would have warranted at least another two missed orgasms, for parading around like a cheap whore ready for the taking.”

Aemond rarely demeans you, but when he does, it stings; if Osferth waren’t pinning you open like a butterfly, you’d curl into yourself, ashamed.

Aemond seems to pick on your feelings and gently kisses your forehead to then drag his lips down your nose and your eyes.

“Shh, gevie, shh. I know you are our good girl, shh. Do you want to show us how good you can be?”

“Yes.” You murmur with your face hidden against the side of Aemond’s neck.

“Are you going to take your punishment and thank Aemond like a good girl?” Osferth soothes you.

“I will. Just…” You hesitate. “Please don’t be mean? I can’t take it, not tonight?”

You put up a brave front, but after weeks of miscommunication you can’t deal with harshness: a wrong word and you’ll start crying. Your boys press you immediately in a tight hug, Osferth from behind, Aemond diving between your splayed legs, until your breathing slows down.

“Are you feeling better? We can stop if you want.” Aemond tells you.

Osferth voices the same feeling: he’s happy to torment you until you can’t physically take it anymore, but not to the expenses of your happiness.

“I want to go on. I want to be your good girl, please?”

“Anything you want, gevie, anything.”

With gentle kisses Aemond’s lips travel up your leg, until he can bury his nose in your drenched cunt and breathe you in: he’s missed you smell and taste, those past few weeks pure hell for him. With a wicked grin he helps you out of your panties and throws them in the general direction of the floor.

“What do you say: when we move together, you’re going to wear no underwear. We’re going to need full access all the time.” Osferth murmurs in your ear.

“Your cunt seems to like the idea.” Aemond says when you clench around nothing.

“Only if I get free access to you two. Turnabout is only fair, ah!”

“You can always have free access to us.” Aemond says with a smile, index finger gently caressing your bud. “Now, let me see how wet you can get.”

Osferth’s hands squeeze your breasts gently, feeling the softness of the skin, his fingers playing with your nipples as Aemond’s long digits explore your depths and curl to find your G spot, massaging it firmly, eye on your face, on your mouth opened to let out harsh breaths and moans. When his thumb finds your clit, it’s almost impossible for you to reign in your orgasm, the pleasure white hot burns your nerves and you have to bite on Osferth’s shoulder to keep a tight rein on your control.

A desperate groan and a whimper-y “Thank you” salute your second missed peak. You whine when Aemond starts sucking on your breasts, as Osferth gently caresses your thighs, helping you to calm down, before his fingers spread your lips again.

They play with your body like a fine tuned instrument. Their hands and mouths bring you up and up, only to curb your pleasure cruelly; you arch under their ministrations, sweat rolling down your skin, slick pouring out of your hole obscenely with every near miss.

By the third almost orgasm you abandon yourself against Osferth; with your eyes closed you’re simply putty in their hands, your body a bundle of nerves responding only to their combined wills: you’ll come when they’ll let you, their praises all you need to feel fulfilled.

“You are our best girl.” Osferth tells you sweetly once they’re finished with you.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to continue tormenting you? Go on all night?” Aemond asks with a wicked smirk on his face.

“Please.” You sound broken and miserable. “Please I need you two so much! No more teasing!”

“Shh my love. There’s no need to cry. Shh, anything you want.” Osferth says, squeezing you as tight as he can.

Your breath is still ragged when they lay you on the bed; they caress your skin with gentle strokes and leave small kisses on your face and neck until you laugh and squirm under them.

Osferth’s body covers yours, his warmth safe, the smell of his hair familiar in your nose as he nuzzles your neck; he moans when Aemond pours lube on his hole before start scissoring him gently, while you grind against Osferth’s erection as he tries to move, sandwiched as he is between your wet cunt and Aemond’s curious fingers: he can barely grind follow your movements.

Osferth’s long back arches, he trembles when Aemond’s fingers start touching his prostate lightly, not wanting to let him come too soon: Osferth is so precious when he’s letting go of his control, to just feel the love and desire you and Aemond have towards him.

Your teeth nibble the soft skin of Osferth’s long neck, those small hiccup moans he makes drive you mad: he’s so defenseless and needy, his orgasm so close his hips stutter against yours and he tries to beg when Aemond’s fingers fuck his arse with intent, hard and fast against his tight ring of muscles, making it almost impossible to reign his orgasm in: he wants to come inside of you, but it’s almost too much!

Osferth’s eyes are scrunched closed, his teeth bite his lower lip savagely in the vain attempt to keep a sliver of control against the dual assault: your cunt so wet and inviting, Aemond’s fingers that reach so deep inside of him he’s going mad with pleasure.

He tries to beg, to desperately form the words of his pleasure, all he can manage are those small whines that make your cunt clench and Aemond’s cock swell.

With a firm hand you grab Osferth’s short mop of hair; his lips are bitten raw and there’s tears at the sides of his closed eyes.

“Do you want my cunt? Do you want Aemond to fuck you raw?” You growl, your own need besting your thinning patience. “Say it out loud, I want to hear it!”

You can see the physical strain talking his for Osferth: the way his eyes are glossy with need, how his body contorts with desperation when Aemond starts scissoring again with deep, slow motions and all Osferth can do is open is mouth and babble and moan.

“That will not do, beloved: let me hear you out loud.” Aemond says with a smirk on his face, his fingers stopping their slow movements, just to see how Osferth's body trembles with frustration.

“Please…” He tries. “Fuck… oh God! Me please!”

“With pleasure.” Aemond growls.

Osferth’s body trembles so much that you have to slide a hand between your bodies to grab his erection and help him sink inside of you with a filthy moan; only when he’s bottomed out with a groan, Aemond starts breaching him gently, pouring too much lube on his cock to make sure he’s not harming Osferth, who is moaning and keening as his hips try to push back to follow Aemond’s movements.

The sound Aemond makes when he’s breached Osferth fully is beyond pornographic, carrying the promise of more pleasure; his hands are manacles on the other man’s hips and you don’t even try to suppress your own moans, full as you are, blocked under their combined weights you can’t even try to move, you can only bear the brunt of Aemond’s pushes and pulls, Osferth’s cock fucking against your G spot slowly, sensually, as he begs, his body trembling with the need to move and fuck you to his leisure.

He’s made to follow Aemond’s gentle rhythm inside of himself, those deep pushes that make him keen and beg for more, the same way you’re doing, your cunt massaging him tightly, with filthy, wet sounds that make Osferth shiver with need.

With trembling hands you manage to grab Aemond’s hips to push him fully inside of Osferth and still their movements; they both groan and moan with pleasure.

“Fuck yourself on Aemond’s cock.” You murmur against Osferth’s parted lips. “Show me how much you missed me.”

The desperation on Osferth’s face is clear, he’s holding on shards of control like a drowning man when he sees your lips around his small cross; to move between you two is pleasure and pain, is drowning inside of you and split himself open on Aemond’s raging erection, is to feel all the nerves of his body scream as his mind blanks and blanks and he’s reduced to a mindless animal who just wants pleasure, wants your cunt to strangle his cock and his prostate bullied, until Aemond has to grab his hips again to help him move, to fuck him fast and hard, using him to get the three of you off after weeks without a mere touch: this knowledge shatters Osferth’s fragile sense of self and he comes with a long scream of pleasure, his hips kicking brutally in Aemond’s hold, forcing you over the precipice, your whole body curling to envelope your two lovers, Osferth’s arse a vice so tight Aemond loses control as well and comes, copious, like he hasn’t in weeks.

You three are a trembling mess on the bed, hands searching and caressing, lips kissing all the available skin as your bodies come down from the high, all three having missed each other’s taste and proximity.

“Silly, silly boys. What were you two thinking?” you pant.

“Nothing smart.” Osferth replies, his brain barely managing to string words together.

“About keeping you safe and happy.” Aemond adds.

“Promise me you’ll never pull a stunt like that ever again?”

You can feel their eyes on your body, the desire they still have for you, and for one another.

“Never.” They say at the same time, before sealing their promise with a deep three way kiss that leaves you dizzy.

You three shuffle around the bed until you are between them, loopy with pleasure and happiness, your body slowly recuperating before another round.

You’re not sure who has turned the telly on, not that it matters when you are safe in your lovers’s embrace and finally know what’s the name of the feeling binding you three together: love.

Poly taglist : @fan-goddess, @notyour-valentine, @aegonx

[shaisuki]

Yeah, you're gonna sit here and bear with my coping of missing his stupidass. Finished this in one sitting :D

Tetsurou, he committed himself to his work in the early stages of his career, he was at his prime since then and still is. Along the way, of course, his endeavors of indulgence; sex. Flings here and there, time to time of entertaining himself with countless people just to kill time, just to have his pleasure, and he makes sure that each party he associates himself with is at the same notion—temporary. He isn't a heartless man to say the least, if anything, he or his friends could say the opposite about him. He thinks highly of such things, he respects it, he wants it for himself just as so many desires for themselves, too. The only thing is, he was never ready nor did he wanted to yet, so that was what he did for the long mean time; a temporary indulgence. Satisfying himself without crossing any lines.

And he did it well. He really did it well, for years and years. Even he himself was surprised that he didn't drown of loneliness. He was lonely from time to time, sure, but that was normal for his situation anyway. That said, he wasn't empty, and quite rather thankful he was for that. His not so kind of a vice continues, until it lessened through the years, until the sands in his hourglass of that temporary indulgence has ran out.

Still him. Still in his prime, more so ever that he is as he reaches his fifties. He's old and he feels newer than ever.

And he begins to feel something different. The inevitable he knew from long before was finally making itself known to him.

And what timing you came in.

The odds of you coming to work for the place he's working in for a long time, the odds of that inevitable creeping feeling looming pleasantly over him as you and him continue to cross paths, and time blessing him with its grace of you along.

He was graced with having to meet a person that took his heart, in your own way.

It's only been a few weeks since you came in, but so much the stirring of his everything has kept its pace, so much of yourself known to him when even he knows there's so much more he could know, so much he feels.

Never been in a relationship he was, nor were the two of you were at the beginning of one, but he knows that it's bound to happen, because he will make sure the beginning of you both will happen. And even that, he could already see past that, beyond that—because if he is in such this state already, which he is, he knew that was in deep and meant to fall more.

So absolutely nothing was stopping him of already imagining the kind of ring that he will give you. Absolutely nothing was stopping him of envisioning you behind the door of his home as he comes back from work, nothing was stopping him from creating his favorite meal in his mind that you'd make for the both of you to have, to enjoy together. Nothing was stopping him from seeing you in the bathtub with him, warm under the water, but he knows that he'd be more warm and given comfort because of you, that he'll never take for granted. Each day of morning and night, every bliss, every fault, he'll cherish.

Nothing will stop him from making it all true.

I MISS HIMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

yeah, and tetsurou would say how glad he was when love didn't came for him until you.

the endings and beginnings of his life and he accepted that he was destined to be alone and here he is. a lovesick fool and he finds himself smiling without him realizing just from getting a glimpse of you. stares at you with a dreamy look in his eyes like you hung the moon and stars.

nervousness creeping up on him when he decides he want to ask you out and the anxiety filling him up. his thoughts are muddled with what-ifs. you surely can't be single at this age but how wrong he was. he only found the reason after the first date. clinking glasses and sharing yakitori at that izakaya where you both laugh at the days where you both are young and reckless.

oh god. he was so fucking cheesy. confesses like a love sick idiot and whispers how he was nervous about asking you out and only you to shut him up by pulling his neck tie and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and only for him to say wow. like it was the first time he experienced it. “i'm glad you did.” you smile in between kisses.

there's no fuss about when he first asked you to move with him. what's the point of running in circles when you both are in the prime of your age. there's no right and wrong in this one and only the two of you would see how perfect the moment is. giggling under the sheets first thing in the morning and the late night talks where secrets are shared. gazing at each other that one of you discovered the most amazing fact of the other. it was perfect. what domestic bliss should be.

a ring shall come forth after many months of being with you and he's so sure of it. how can he not? you were the missing piece in the puzzle. the one who held the key in his heart. so then, he searches for the perfect ring. gone through countless of catalogues of what ring may suit you, peering through glasses and taking a note with every ring he took interest in. it's the thought that counts. his brain crosses at this kind of thinking but tetsurou doesn't like that. you don't deserve something that the worth is what mattered but how important it is to the both of you.

he proposes to you. a cheesy pick up line he must took or heard in some random place and decided it is the best way to pop the question and you say yes without hesitation.

now, all was left is to cherish you. oh how he didn't waste a second nor a millisecond to show how much he loves you. the affection that is only reserved for you that as simple of you breathing in the same air as him is priceless and he's smitten until this day.

kissing the back of your hands with the adoring, dorky look in his face and seeing you smile is the sight that he holds until he draws his very last breath.

[deathnguts]

@bartylusmicrofic

Prompt 5: joint

(Sorry this is late)

CW: minors doing and selling drugs (just weed, which was not legal in Scotland in the 70s, but cmon it’s just weed), brief mention of domestic abuse (just a joke about Barty’s shitty dad)

-

Barty never really cared about the stigma surrounding non-muggleborn wizards being involved with muggle shit. If muggles made something he wanted, he’d take it. Who the fuck cared who made it? He smoked muggle cigarettes, lit them with muggle lighters, listened to muggle music, and dressed like a muggle punk. Who was gonna stop him?

But what he hadn’t done (yet) was muggle drugs. He honestly hadn’t even thought about it until he found out that the hufflepuff Evan liked so much was selling muggle shit.

So Barty, being the open minded connoisseur that he is, bothered Evan to get him some until he got annoyed enough to do it.

Barty was waiting on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He decided he regretted not going with Evan because having nothing to do but wait was so much worse than having to witness Evan flirt with a guy who probably didn’t even know boys could kiss other boys. But he didn’t have to wait much longer after that thought before Evan strolled into the room and threw a small bag, filled with something that looked like moss, onto his chest with a little too much force to be friendly.

“Woah, no need to get violent, Rosie.” Barty whined as he sat up, watching the little bag slide down into his lap.

Evan scoffed and rolled his eyes, “you can take being beat by your dad, you can take a bag of grass.”

Judging by how sunny Evan was being, Barty figured the flirting had gone very well. But Evan had bought him drugs so he would be quiet today. How sweet of a friend he was.

“Where’s Reg?” Evan asked over his shoulder as he flopped on his back onto Regulus’ empty bed.

“Where do you think?” Barty answered with his own eye roll as he opened the little bag. Regulus could be found in one of two places during his entire stay at Hogwarts, and that was the dorm and the library. It was a little different now that he had prefect duties, but not really.

A smell that Barty had never smelled anything like before wafted from the bag and he had to resist the urge to cough with how it settled in his throat. He’d smoked before, he shouldn’t cough over a sniff of… whatever this was.

“You don’t snort it, idiot.” Evan called.

“I wasn’t, idiot.”

“Well then what were you gonna do, idiot?”

Barty decided to be quiet then, on his own volition and not at all because he couldn’t answer.

Evan chuckled like the bastard he was and rolled over on his stomach to face Barty. “Alright, gimme the bag and a book you don’t care about.”

“… what the fuck did you two do?” Regulus grumbled, tucking his nose under his sleeve to hide it from the offending scent choking up their dorm.

Barty, honest to Circe, could not find it in his muddled brain to answer.

“Just some down time, Reg,” Evan answered for him. He seemed to be handling the smoke a lot better than Barty, considering he could talk all and good despite currently smoking even more than Barty had.

Barty watched Regulus sigh and drop his bag at the foot of his bed, next to Evan’s feet. “You’re on my bed.”

“Uh-huh.” Evan hummed as he took another drag.

“Move, you high bastard.”

“Go lay with Barty. Look how lonely he is.” And then they were both looking over at him and he couldn’t control his face enough to stop staring back. Had he actually blinked in a while? Now that he was thinking about it, he didn’t think so… woah.

“How much did you give him?” Regulus asked as he slipped his fingers into Barty’s hair. When had he gotten close enough to do that? Meh, whatever. Barty wasn’t gonna complain, so he just leaned into the welcome touch. Barty couldn’t help the smile that painted on his face when he nuzzled into Regulus’ hand. He didn’t remember closing his eyes but he was vaguely aware that the only sense that was working was his sense of touch. And hearing. Kind of. Was he underwater?

“I didn’t feed it to him by the spoonful, Reg. He took what he wanted.”

“And that’s unusual?”

“See? You’re catching up.”

“Shut up.”

Barty frowned when Regulus’ hand suddenly disappeared from his hair. Where was he going?

Regulus was chuckling, “oh, calm down.” He grumbled in his own, loving, way “Merlin, don’t pout.”

Regulus’ hand was cupping Barty’s chin and his thumb was running over Barty’s lip ring. If he was pouting before, he certainly wasn’t now.

“He’s on another plane right now, Reggie.” Evan muttered as he took yet another hit.

“You’re on the way.”

“Here’s to hoping.”

There was some shuffling on the bed and when Barty opened his eyes his head was propped onto Regulus’ lap like the world’s greatest pillow. His delicate fingers were combing back through Barty’s hair but Barty wasn’t focused on that anymore. How could he be focused on anything else when he was looking up at his beautiful boyfriend’s beautiful face? Regulus was still talking to Evan but Barty couldn’t hear them. Regulus was so beautiful.

His lips were pink and perfect and Barty knew they were soft. He liked watching them move when he talked. His nose was arched like a Greek god and Barty would offer as many hecatombs as he could if Regulus asked. He had a million moles dotting his milky skin like his own inverse galaxy. BARTY didn’t care much about astrology, but he would if it was about this sky. His eyes were a cold, icy gray that swam with the softest blue. Barty wasn’t an empty headed, drooling flirt or anything, but he could honestly stare into Regulus’ eyes forever and be completely content until he dropped dead and blind. In fact…

He sat up and nudged Regulus to lay back so he could rest his chin on Regulus’ chest and get a better look.

“Oh Salazar.” Piped up Evan with a rumbling laugh deep from his chest. But Barty wasn’t listening because Regulus was laughing too and Barty felt his heart singing in his chest.

“Barty, what-“ he was interrupted by his own giggles. “What are you doing?”

Regulus’ smile was wonderful. The real one. The tight, knowing one that he showed everyone outside his four walls was certainly hot, but he beloved the real thing more. It was private, just for him and those close to his heart, and it was perfect. It bled flush into his cheeks and spread his perfect lips enough that he actually showed his teeth. He was always so careful to hide his teeth, just because he viewed the gap he had between them as unsavory. He thought they were to be hidden. He thought a lot of himself was to be hidden.

Well, more for Barty.

“Looking at you.” He answered far too late with a smile he knew was far too dopey.

Regulus’ laughter continued to shake through his chest while Barty continued to gaze at his beauty like a lovesick puppy. It was nice staring at Regulus when his head was all fuzzy. It felt like Regulus was the only thing he could see.

He liked that. He liked that a lot.

[lookingfts]

I love protective Anthony taking care of Kate, but in this relationship, Kate would bristle being another liability in the long list of people that Anthony has to take care of. How does she reciprocate?

“When do you want me to come over next week?”

His schedule was a little different each week, depending on his business meetings or family obligations, and Kate accommodated him as best she could, though he was understanding when a certain day just didn’t work for her.

He made a little noise in his throat, his fingers nervously toying with the ends of her hair. “I don’t need you next week.”

Kate flinched slightly at this tone. It just seemed off, like he was forcing the words out at gunpoint. Something heavy sank in her stomach as she wondered whether this was it. The moment he realized he was tired of her, and tried to let her go gently.

“Um, okay,” she said, attempting to keep her voice level. “Why?”

Anthony frowned, that little dimple popping out between his brows, as if he hadn’t expected her to ask questions. Though he should have known by now that she never simply agreed with him. “I have some family things I need to take care of. That’s all. I’ll see you the week after.”

He was trying to retreat into some space deep inside himself and for some reason, she didn’t want to let him. Kate rested her hand on his jaw, rubbing his cheek with her thumb, feeling him unwind under her touch. “You can talk to me. You know that, right?”

For a flash of a second, Kate thought he might cave. His face softened, a heart-wrenching sort of sadness in his eyes, and then he exhaled and shook it all away. “Not about this.”

Sensing that she wasn’t going to get anywhere tonight, she nodded, brushing a loose lock of hair from his forehead. “Okay.”

-------

She tried to enjoy her week off. Anthony had been taking good care of her; she could afford to spend some time on herself. Get a massage, catch up on sleep and TV, read the books that had been sitting idle on her nightstand. Go for runs and cook and get drinks with friends.

But Anthony lingered persistently on the edges of her awareness. Kate wondered if the other women living this lifestyle worried about their sugar daddies half as much as she seemed to worry about Anthony. Not just whether he was happy with her, but whether he was happy.

Maybe it wasn’t entirely unprecedented to form an attachment of some kind. Especially when the man was as kind and thoughtful and good-hearted as Anthony. She thought they were friends, at the very least, though the lines were all incredibly muddled.

When she hadn’t heard a word from him by Wednesday, she caved, holding her breath as the phone rang. He probably wouldn’t even answer.

Of course he did. It was her. “Hey,” he said, picking up on the fourth ring. “You okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m just checking up on you.”

There was a long silence, and Anthony’s voice sounded a little thick when he finally responded. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.” Inhaling deeply, she reminded herself to be brave. To say what she would want to hear. “I don’t know what’s going on this week, but obviously you’re trying to handle it alone and you just…you don’t have to, Anthony. Say the word and I’ll be there.”

Another achingly long silence. Maybe she was pushing too far, maybe she was inserting herself into his life where she didn’t belong. He hadn’t hired her to be his emotional support companion.

“Okay,” he said, sounding a little shaky.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Kate promised, immediately calling for a car. Anthony would give her money for the ride later, but she hardly cared about that. To her surprise, she felt a little desperate to get to him. Like she couldn’t settle until they were occupying the same space.

The car was mercifully quick, and she was letting herself into his flat twenty minutes later. Kate found him in the living room, sitting on the sofa and staring out into space. He looked drained, dark circles under his eyes and his hair unkempt and his beard less groomed than usual.

He gave her a look she couldn’t describe, except that she felt something deep inside her crack. Without a word, Kate was kicking off her shoes and climbing into his lap, her knees on the cushions and her arms around his neck. Anthony slumped against her, and she felt something wet against her shoulder.

They sat like that for a long time in silence, as Anthony pretended not to be crying and she let him pretend. Occasionally, she would kiss his temple or scrape her nails comfortingly over his scalp, until his heartbeat was synced with hers.

“The anniversary of my dad dying is tomorrow. Seventeen years,” he murmured into the quiet between them. “I hate this week.”

Kate kicked herself for not figuring that out sooner. She was much the same around that time for her father. Not to mention carrying the weight of her family’s grieving on top of her own. “I understand,” she whispered.

Maybe later, she would lay in bed and think about what it meant. That she was so relieved to be there, to lift his burden even a fraction. But that was a panic for later.

For now, she let Anthony slide his arms around her waist and hold her close, content to stay that way all night if it was what he needed.