#an unprovoked musing?

[quenchiestcactusjuice99]

why are they making that man watery-eyed and "soft" "bean"?

[soulsbetrayed]

//Feel free to send asks! Check my pinned post for a much more extensive muselist. not all of the muses are active keep this in mind

[kxllerblond]

Happy gore tuesday lmao

A reminder Clark has weaponized his teleporting powers and can remove chunks of a person at a time.

The best example I can get of the aftermath of it would be that silly laser room scene in that silly Res*dent evil movie.

It's literally like you selected someone's head or hand or whatever in photoshop with the selection tool box and then cut it and pasted it somewhere else...somewhere else typically being the middle of some random ocean lol. He uses this for clean and quick kills as well as more delicate situations such as getting information out of someone. He can do something as large as halving a person in two to as small as removing fingers one finger joint at a time. He's very surgical and precise with it as this is his most practiced ability.

He can do the same with his silly telekinesis but this is uses much less as he's not as practiced with it. Though this is technically his second most practiced power, the gap of control between the two is staggering.

You'll typically get this in moment of panic or desperation. It's dangerous and messy and explosive. But still quick and obviously lethal, lol.

[flockrest]

what's your secret to writing exactly how tulin would be?

[minseologs]

WRITING EXERCISE: RELATIONSHIP LYRIC PROMPTS

__labelles: Kit : Demrick (ft.Brevi) - Runway Walk // “The way you walk in them heels, beyond sex appeal, beyond any type of feeling you get from taking a pill”

The best thing about her wide array of resources are the people she finds-- because somehow she finds a circle of people who could be traced back from those she had previously known before. From a barista to the consumer, to the line of family that once challenged her own in the game of business. 

It was like a game to Minseo, seeing how good people can lie. And for how long. It was some sort of happy pill when she watches people suffer on her own terms.

So when an opportunity to hire a fashion student for a short event becomes easy, she wastes no time to jump on the matter. It was great, what Kit did. She made her look sexy, with a twinge of cuteness and beauty all in one. The walk to her studio with the loud clacks of her heels signified power. It was a contrast from what Kit had worn where it showed her maturity in a more humble manner. It was favorable that she knew the girl in word of mouth because Minseo already felt entitled to know more after a short conversation in the past. Curiosity eyes Kit between the edges of her primping a lavish gown for an event all while she had a mischievous smile plastered on her face.

“Can i confess something? I wouldn’t have found you if it weren’t for the very same people who took you out of that club,” she starts, and there was a heavy pause in air. “I didn’t think word gets around far enough that an investor would hear about it.” 

Her eyes gaze at her from the mirror with every intent to push more. The older wasn’t the one to be messed with when it came to private information as she was exceptional in hide and seek. (Mostly seeking—) There was something she wanted to shine light about Kit. It was wrong to meddle, she knew. “And I mean by the investor,” part of her screamed to stop, the other poked curiosity.

 “Me.” 

[worldsbestpredators]

The real reason Edward didn't want to change Bella was because he knew she'd she him for the basic bitch he's always been once they became equals. In this essay I ...

[endless-ineffabilities]

sapphire-hearted (part two)

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

After his betrayal, the reader is determined to forget about Aemond. But her attempts at entertaining a potential suitor seem to be thwarted at every turn, by none other than... who else?

themes/warnings: jealous!Aemond, angst, third (and fourth) parties involved but not really

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

a/n: the title changed, yes! Also, can you believe I actually thought this would remain a mere oneshot? But no, I got hungry for more angst and jealousy and all the good stuff. Much love to all my fellow angst lovers for breathing new life into this fic!

When the whispers started, you knew they would eventually reach Aemond.

You were rumoured to be entertaining Lord Ramsay Beesbury, the youngest son of the late Lord Lyman Beesbury.

His older brother, Braxton, was your initial suitor many moons ago. But you refused him, of course. For a certain one-eyed prince.

Lord Braxton had been the one who became Lord of Honeyholt after his father and he has just recently taken a wife. Unlike his father, however, he opted to side with the Greens and to back Aegon's claim.

Ramsay began to seek you out himself, not long after finding out that you are now more receptive to marriage proposals.

Everyone knew. Well, it seems that way, at least. It is common knowledge that you and Aemond were closer than to be expected of mere friends. Any Lord who might ask for your hand knew not to expect to be met with warmth and eagerness. They tried anyway, and failed.

Because each time, and without even needing to say so, they knew that you were choosing Aemond.

"I don't know why you would think that," you lie with a sweet smile, when Ramsay presents his concern about you and Aemond. "Prince Aemond and I are acquaintances, and that is all there is to it."

"Oh." Ramsay smiles, evidently pleased with your response. "My lady, I am glad to be spending this afternoon with you here in the gardens. After some time, I would hope that we can join our Houses, as humble as mine might be." He averts his eyes shyly. Ramsay is surely a gentle lad, as far as you have seen.

"You need not be concerned, my lord. My House is just as humble. But we make do, don't we? At the very least, we do not have to busy ourselves with all the politicking the more nobler Houses seem to get into."

"That is true, my lady." He grins, and you notice lines burst around his eyes, though he is merely five and twenty. Ramsay has spent a life imparting and partaking in laughter.

Unlike a certain sullen, brooding Targaryen. Could you get used to Ramsay? Surely. Could you love him? Perhaps so.

"So what shall we do on the morrow?" Ramsay closes the distance between the two of you on the bench, and his knees brush against yours under your skirts. He takes your hands in his, "I propose - "

He stops, his head whipping to the side, looking toward the treeline.

"What is it, my lord?" you ask, looking in the same direction. But you see nothing.

"I thought I heard something." He whispers, then looks again to you. "Where were we - "

"Fine weather we're having." You nearly jump out of your skin in surprise, as Ramsay is interrupted yet again. Aemond stands about a foot away from your bench, hands clasped behind him in usual commanding stance.

"My prince." Ramsay stiffens, your hands still held in his. You see that Aemond's attention has been drawn to this, his lips curling in distaste.

You both rise from the bench. Ramsay is no longer touching you, but still stands close.

Closer than Aemond would like. His hand clenches into a fist behind his back. He muses about whether it is unbecoming for a Targaryen prince to sock a young Lord in the jaw unprovoked.

He does not much care either way.

"It is, indeed," Ramsay says. "Which is why I thought to take the Lady out for a walk in the gardens."

"And a fine idea it was," you add, purposefully looping your arm around Ramsay's. "It's best that Lord Ramsay and I get to know each other well, if we are to wed soon."

Aemond decides not to punch the young Lord Beesbury. Not just yet. Clearly you're provoking him and he is not going to give you the satisfaction.

"A wedding in the middle of war?" Aemond hums. "Do you not think such a union foreshadows plenty of discontent and strife, my lady?"

You scoff, "Oh, what does it matter? When will we ever not be in a war, in some form or another? That should not stop us from marrying whom we please. From loving whom we please."

Loving. Love. Aemond's heart sinks. You mention love in front of him, when you have yourself wrapped around another man. One whom you plan to wed.

How can you speak of love, when you are planning to sacrifice it? Aemond might transgress with Alys, but at least he is doing it for the realm. For you.

Is he not? Then why does it seem like he is losing you?

Ramsay beams to Aemond, "My lady is truly clever, is she not, my prince?"

"She is." Aemond genuinely agrees. He only has eyes on you, running over the planes of your face which he has committed to memory, all those nights of watching you sleep next to him. He looks upon you with longing.

With love.

For a moment, everything feels right. You and your love gaze upon each other, all else forgotten. Your arm slides down from Ramsay's in your brief reverie.

Then Ramsay clears his throat. "What are you doing here, Prince Aemond? Can we help you with anything?"

"Oh, I don't think you can," Aemond says pointedly, clearly pleased with himself.

"P-pardon me?"

You interrupt the exchange, your voice icy, "Not busy today, my prince? No plans of battle to discuss? Grand spells to concoct?"

"No." Aemond merely shakes his head. "I've no use for those at the moment."

"What a surprise," you sneer.

Ramsay glazes over your mention of spells, thinking he misheard things. He then addresses Aemond, "It seems that the tides have turned toward our favour, my prince. The Greens' favour. I can only hope that the aid my House provides has played a part, albeit small."

Aemond does not mince his words, disdain clear in his voice when he says, "Surely the barrels of honeyed wine that your great House provides has been crucial in advancing our cause, my Lord. If you yourself possessed any mettle, then you would be out there in the battlefield. Instead you sit here in the gardens, wasting your days trying to covet something of mine. "

Unbelievable. Your mouth nearly falls open in shock at his demeanour. "Aemond..."

"I need to speak with you, my lady."

"I am occupied at the moment, my prince." You respond through gritted teeth.

"It's alright," Ramsay nods to you, clearly disheartened. But he holds his ground, and bravely takes your hand in his. Completely aware that Aemond watches, he leans down and plants a kiss on the back of your hand, eyes on yours the entire time.

Aemond feels his restraint dissipating, hanging on by the flimsiest of threads.

"Come with me," Aemond takes your hand, the very same which Ramsay just kissed, and begins pulling you away and walking towards the tall hedges.

You can feel his thumb brushing against your knuckles, as if trying to eliminate any trace of Lord Ramsay.

"Stop - " you say, but to no avail.

When Ramsay is no longer in your line of sight, you pull your hand from Aemond's grip. "What is wrong with you? Ramsay did nothing to deserve that."

"Ramsay," Aemond rolls his eye. His shoulders are stiff, and you can easily tell he is angry.

"I should go find him, and apologize for your behaviour. Clearly you will not."

"I do not need to apologize for anything to that weak-willed, little - "

"Then apologize to me," you interject, voice breaking.

"Whatever for?" He reaches for you, but you stand still. Doing nothing as his hand cradles your face.

"For everything... for being with someone else... for not choosing me."

"But I choose you. I always - "

"You chose Alys."

His face scrunches at that. Aemond thinks that he did not choose Alys, he merely chose to use her powers for his gain. But it will never be her over you.

"Just apologize to me," you shrug. "Or don't. It does not change anything. We can soon set all of this behind us."

You watch him intently, drinking in every slight change in his expression. The curve of his lips. The way his eyelashes brush against his skin when he looks down.

If you have to let him go, you will always want to remember him. To remember everything.

He says nothing for the longest time, just holding your face in his hands.

Until you step away. His arms fall to his sides.

"I have to choose Ramsay, Aemond. I have to do this for myself," you say.

Still, nothing. His gaze is trained downward, and he feels helpless as he can feel you slipping away from him.

You finally muster up the strength to say goodbye, "I'll be seeing you, my love."

Your feet feel heavy as you walk away, crunching against the small rocks on the path.

"What if we were to wed? What then, hmm?" He suddenly says, making you stop in your tracks.

He continues, "Will you choose me?"

Will Aemond finally give up Alys? Will he marry the reader even if it will be frowned upon and seen as an unfit union? *shrugs* you tell me

Will Aegon make an appearance in part three? *nods* yes. Yes, he will.

In my mind, Ramsay is played by Callum Turner or Jonah Hauer-King. Just a thought. Aemond's got some competition *laughs evilly*

I hope I managed to include everyone in the taglist!! If not, just let me know 🖤

taglist: @immyowndefender @bellameshipper @aemondswifeisme @bash1018 @fuck-the-reaper @shessthunderstoms @aemondsbabygirl @melsunshine @youtoldalie @snh96 @noxytopy @ellooo0ooo @brianochka @not-a-glad-gladiator @mac95650 @whitejuliana1204 @midnightmystic @saminalloxo @oh-no-tia @magnificentsapphiresoul @clara-geekhime @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Where The Shadows Dance - The Bodyguard (ii)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER II: The Bodyguard

SUMMARY: The Night Court must decide who shall remain to protect the Daughter of Autumn, while also getting to know the princess with a fiery soul.

WARNINGS: More misogyny! yay! mentions of alcohol, tw: beron (we all hate him its ok), people talking shit behind y/n's back, probably swearing i can't remember (also i just swore in the warning so like... it's possible), daddy issues!

NOTE: once again special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for reading over my work! <33

WORDS: 2K

Sitting in the quarters Beron had assigned to the Night Court guests, the inner circle debated how to approach this situation they had found themselves in. 

One of them was to play bodyguard for the Princess of the Autumn Court. Of course, there were many logistics to sort out, ranging from the most obvious one – who would be the assigned bodyguard – to smaller details, such as whether they needed more than one Night Court member to remain in Autumn.

“I’m telling you, they’re a bunch of snakes,” Cassian said firmly. “We can’t just leave one person behind. What if this is a ploy?”

“That is true,” Feyre mused, “but why bother to make a ploy at all? We fought in the war together, and an unprovoked attack against the Night Court would cause another war. And Beron must know that the other courts would be on our side.”

Amren sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Cassian. We can’t trust these people.”

Azriel stayed silent, mulling it all over. It was all true — fighting for the same side in the war had brought the courts together, but then again, there were people like Eris and his brothers lurking in this court.

A soft knock on the door prompted everyone to look towards the sound. After a moment, the door opened, revealing Eris, a small smile on his face.

“It is lovely to see you all in a different scenery,” Eris commented after he had closed the door.

“Eris,” Rhysand greeted. “How can we help you?”

Eris went ahead and took a seat in a scarlet chair beside the fireplace, relaxing with ease. Azriel supposed it would be easier to do so now that he was in his own home, but the sight still frustrated the shadowsinger.

“I just wanted to see what you all thought of my father’s… proposition,” Eris said casually.

“Did you know?” Cassian questioned.

Eris shrugged. “I did tell you that it had something to do with my sister.”

“There was an attempt on her life, which you failed to mention,” Azriel stated.

Eris just smiled calmly. “Must have slipped my mind.”

This was exactly what Cassian had been talking about before, Azriel knew. They were cunning and sly in the Autumn Court, and that made them dangerous.

“Anything else that may have ‘slipped your mind’?” Azriel inquired.

Eris turned his gaze to the shadowsinger, a small smirk on his face. Azriel wanted to punch the male, and he remembered the feel of his neck beneath his hands, and how close he could have come to killing the heir before him. He sort of wished he had.

“My father has already chosen which member of your court he wants as Y/n’s bodyguard,” Eris revealed.

Azriel blinked. Despite the fact that Beron had given them the illusion of free choice, of course the male had already decided. After looking at Eris expectantly, Rhysand realised the male would not freely give up this information.

“Who?” the High Lord asked.

Eris glanced at Azriel. “The shadowsinger, of course.”

Everyone looked at Azriel, and the Illyrian wanted to shrink away from the attention. Why him? Yes, perhaps he appeared more gentlemanly than Cassian, as he knew how to keep his mouth shut, but what else? Yes, he was the Spymaster for the Night Court, but Cassian was the general of the armies. Amren terrified everyone, and yes, she’d be more than capable to be a bodyguard, but then again, Amren might kill the princess if she annoyed her.

“Why Azriel?” Rhys questioned.

Eris looked at the High Lord as if he was incompetent. “Is he not the most obvious choice? That one–” he nodded to Cassian, “–has already tainted a female promised to the Autumn Court.”

Rage, icy cold, flowed through Azriel at the implications behind Eris's words. ‘A female promised to the Autumn Court’ was very obviously Mor, and the entitlement in his tone…

“First of all, I have a mate–” Cassian growled, but Rhysand cut him off.

“Let's not argue,” the High Lord said firmly, although silent fury shone in his eyes at Eris's words. “We're all allies here.”

Eris rolled his eyes but said nothing more, and Cassian glared at the Autumn Court heir, clearly imagining all the ways he could rip him apart.

“Didn't Azriel try to kill you at the High Lord's meeting?” Amren mused.

Eris glowered at the female. “Well, we certainly can't have you here. Your mere presence makes the courtiers uneasy.”

“I did save your asses during the war,” Amren reminded him, but she seemed more than pleased that she still terrified people. 

Azriel let out a breath. He had guessed that it would be himself who would have to play bodyguard, but how could he do so when his job was one of utmost importance to the Night Court? Even now, with Nyx only half a year old, there were so many threats that needed to be uncovered and eliminated.

Azriel glanced at Rhysand and Feyre. Both had been reluctant to leave their son behind for a week, but they knew it would be much too dangerous to bring him to the Autumn Court. Nesta, Elain, and Mor had promised to take care of him while they were gone, and Nyx was probably having the time of his life with his Aunts.

What do you think? Rhys asked Azriel, mind to mind.

Azriel pondered his answer for a moment. I would be willing to do it, but to leave you without a Spymaster for the Cauldron knows how long…

I think we can manage for a little while, Rhys replied, a grin twinkling in his eyes.

Azriel nodded his confirmation. It was true — his court members were not truly useless without him. Just slightly disadvantaged, but they knew how to take care of themselves.

“I'll do it,” Azriel said aloud.

Cassian looked at his brother, eyes widened slightly with silent warning. Amren appeared disinterested in the conversation, but Azriel knew she was listening to every word. Eris simply nodded, as if he already knew Azriel would agree.

“Good,” Eris replied. “I will allow you to share the news with my father in your own time.”

The heir then got up and exited the room, leaving the Night Court members by themselves.

“I need a drink,” Amren muttered.

The following week was a whirlwind. Every morning, afternoon, and evening, the Night Court members dined with the Autumn Court, and the Autumn Court members also showed them their home. It was mostly Y/n showing them around the palace and the grounds, with Autumn guards trailing closely behind.

Y/n was a different person when she was not around her father. She was much more talkative, and quick to joke and tease. After a few days, it was clear that Cassian adored the princess and her witty comebacks, and she clearly enjoyed the freedom of banter with him. It was almost as if they were destined to be best friends. But whenever any member of her family was present, she would go quiet, and exhibit “lady-like” speech and actions.

Azriel had heard many of the Autumn Court’s opinions of her through his shadows, and none of them were particularly fond. Wild, untamed, unlady-like, and irritating, were the words most commonly used to describe the princess in secret, but Azriel had a feeling she did not care what she thought about them. He could tell that she only cared what her father thought — perhaps not for praise, but rather in fear of punishment.

“So, have you decided which of you will be protecting me after this week?” she asked the Night Court members as they walked through the Royal apple orchard. The apples were the finest Azriel had ever tasted, and he wondered whether there was some kind of magic behind it to make them so.

“We have discussed it,” Rhysand replied, plucking an apple from a tree and handing it to his mate. Feyre took the apple with a smile.

Y/n sighed deeply. “I wish I could go to the Night Court with you. It sounds beautiful.”

While the Night Court members had told the princess a little bit about their home, the Autumn daughter was an avid reader, and had mentioned that she’d always been interested in The Night Court. She would read any book on their court a hundred times, and had learned about Starfall, Illyrians, and many other Night Court customs. When Rhys questioned her on the books she had read, she had become slightly evasive in her answers.

“I borrowed them,” Y/n had said casually.

Azriel had raised an eyebrow. “Borrowed, or stole?”

The grin the princess threw his way had set his heart racing, but he had no idea why. “I prefer the term 'mischievously possess.’”

Cassian had barked out a laugh, and even Amren had smiled slightly.

But as well as spending time with the princess, Azriel had other things to do. When she showed him the castle, he memorised it. He marked every exit, window, door, hiding place — everything. If he was to be her bodyguard, he would have to have the entire layout memorised. For her protection, but also for his. He didn’t doubt for one second that if he let his guard down, one of her brothers, maybe even Eris himself, would try to stab him in the back. Literally.

Eventually, the week came to an end, and the members of the Night Court gathered in the Autumn Court throne room. Azriel supposed that bonds had been slightly strengthened between the courts, but not by much. Mistrust was hard to get rid of, especially when there were centuries and generations of it.

“We have come to a decision,” Rhy told Beron, his hands resting in his pockets. “And my High Lady and I shall allow you to employ one of my warriors as your daughter’s bodyguard.”

Beron nodded, his gaze flicking to Azriel for a brief moment before going back to Rhys. “And have you decided which warrior shall be protecting my daughter?”

That glance told Azriel that Eris had been telling the truth. Beron hoped that it was the shadowsinger who would be playing bodyguard, and it made sense now. Although what didn’t make sense was the fact that Eris had not lied.

“Azriel shall remain behind to guard your daughter,” Rhys promised. 

“Wonderful,” Beron said with a nod. “Thank you for this, Rhysand. The Autumn Court shall never forget this favour.”

Rhys nodded at the High Lord, and both of them shook hands, their goodbye quick and brief. The Night Court's goodbyes to Azriel were lengthy in comparison.

“Stay safe,” Rhys told Az, clapping him on the back. “Our mental bridge will be open at all times. Let me know if there’s any trouble.”

“You act as if I can’t take care of myself,” Azriel replied, a half smirk on his face.

Rhys rolled his eyes and brought his brother into a hug, the eyes on them be damned. When Rhys pulled away, Cassian was there next, squeezing the shadowsinger into a hug that nearly crushed his bones.

“I’ll miss you, Azzie,” Cassian whispered in Azriel’s ear, which set him scowling. Cassian grinned and pulled away, Feyre replacing him. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek in farewell, and before Az knew it, the Night Court disappeared into the void, leaving him alone in the Autumn Court.

TAGLIST: @honeybee54321 @marigold-morelli @lucky7rosie @itsswritten @paankhaleyaar @bubybubsters @5onedirection5 @lilah-asteria @sheblogs @thelov3lybookworm @blushingfawnsposts @thisiskaylin @morganisheree @sleepylunarwolf @bakananya @bookishbroadwaybish @namelesssaviour @glitterypirateduck @sfhsgrad-blog @ash-mcj @feyres-fireheart @ib525 @azrielswhore @copenhagenspirit @eternallyelvish @teenagellamaangel @thisiskaylin @littleladdty

[just-orbiting-you]

MUSE is a concept album...

my biggest takeaway from minimoni music today is that MUSE is fully conceptual. the story of finding love was meant to represent jimin trying to find excitement and breathe life into his day to day post-FACE era. SGMB, a band inspired by sergeant pepper's lonely hearts club band (another concept album) is the storytelling vehicle to convey this idea.

this doesn't invalidate his artistry. songwriters tell stories that are not their own, write from different point of views, and create from their imagination all. of. the. time.

what makes me happiest to see is jimin seemingly getting gratification from working on his own music, which stems from pieces of his own experience. this is all i want for the vocal members: to fall in the footsteps of the rapline. i have so much admiration and respect for jimin's music over the past year, sharing with us so earnestly.

now in regard to MUSE and jikook, its hard to take a conceptual piece of art and apply it to the artist's real life. If the artist is explicitly sharing that it is inspired directly from their life's experience (similar to RPWP and namjoon), then the assumptions are warranted. its wrong to take fiction and apply to reality. where jimin was candid about FACE being so personal, MUSE is the opposite.

jimin may or may not have had experience with a romantic relationship that informed the writing on this album. he was unclear about that when talking with namjoon.

The only thing i can say firmly about this time period and MUSE's release is that MUSE was written and completed throughout the first half of 2023. seemingly, this metaphor of life feeling dull he is sharing is emblematic of his feelings during this time period.

what happened in the second half of 2023??? jikook took three trips together and enlisted together. from what we saw, jimin was posting more about jungkook, jungkook was still talking about him on live throughout the year. he mentioned jungkook four times in minimoni music unprovoked when that was shot in nov. 2023. in the search to find more to look forward to everyday and feel excited about life, he chose jungkook. lol its cheesy but...kinda true. i hope the trips they went on really meant a lot to jimin if he was feeling so down earlier in the year.

tl dr: the focus on a conceptual album invalidates discussions pairing the narrative of MUSE to jimin's love life.

(the most exciting part about MUSE for me though is the emphasis on jimin's vocals. i am blown away by his vocals on who and the mixes of the songs generally centralize his vocals. i think on FACE his vocals can get kinda lost in the instrumentals, which may have been the intent of the production, but i love MUSE's juxtaposition.)

[buckets-and-trees]

Unholy Errand

Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x female!Reader, God the Bounty Hunter x female!Reader, Ransom Drysdale Word Count: 4k

Summary: You're caught in the crosshairs when a hit goes out for your boss.

Content Warnings: non-consent and dubious consent, cuckolding, bondage, knife play, dacryphilia, oral (m and f receiving), cumplay, spitting, facial/marking, groping, spanking, clothed males naked female, coarse language, mild but irreverent use of religious terminology/themes (we’ve got a bounty hunter who refers to himself as God – we’re not committing hard to the bit, but we are using the bit), use of pet names + no y/n

Notes: I was happily working on some other lovely things last weekend, and then Sunday afternoon, totally unprovoked, a rogue muse crept up and whispered, "Lloyd and God..." and my brain broke, and I told @navybrat817 and she immediately enabled/encouraged the sprouting of this fic (and helped identify exactly who these two would be after). I thought this might be fifteen hundred words... and then it hit 2k, and then 3k, and they still weren't done with poor Reader, so...

Additional Notes: First time writing Lloyd, God, or Ransom in any capacity. This is also straight up the filthiest thing I've gone all in on. Is it the filthiest thing that exists on the internet? Of course not, but my filthiest and READ THE TAGS. This is NOT your standard Aspen fic. But was this a bit of a riot to write? Yep. It had a chokehold on me all week, and I stayed up far too late to finish it off tonight because... if I didn't, life would've prevented me finishing for a couple more days, and I've been too eager to push this out.

The clearing of his throat is what pulls your attention. You look up from your desk, taking in long legs in impossibly tight white slacks showing too much ankle, and a torso clad in a black turtleneck and blazer. A thick mustache lives above his smirk. He was too silent entering the offices, and he knows it, seems to revel in unsettling you. “Lloyd Hansen, the six o’clock appointment.”

“Yes, if you’ll follow me right this way,” you proffer politely, and move smoothly out of your chair, leading him to the door of your boss’s office. You give a short knock and open the door, announcing, “Lloyd Hansen, sir,” as you briefly step inside, holding the door open for the man.

He’s still smirking as he passes by, and then you sweep back out, but not before hearing Lloyd whistle and say, “Fancy shit you got yourself in this office, Ran,” as you close the door on them.

You sigh as you sit back down at your desk. Lloyd is your boss’s last meeting of the night, and he had seemed more than perturbed when he said to go ahead and accept the last-minute request Lloyd had made for the appointment. While this is the meeting of the day, Mr. Drysdale had made it clear he was staying late, which means you are also staying late, so you pull out the file of menus you keep in your desk and begin mulling over where to order dinner from tonight.

There’s a succession of loud thuds on the other side of the wall, and you only hesitate for a second before rushing into the office.

You stop dead, a small cry escaping your lips as you watch Lloyd wrestling Ransom to the ground.

“You may be sorry you disturbed us, sweetie, but since you’re here, be a good girl and close and lock that door so we don’t get interrupted by anyone else.”

You hesitate, staring in horror at the display before you: books knocked off the shelves, everything that’s usually so immaculately placed askew on the desk, a lamp overturned, Ransom Drysdale on the floor of his office with Lloyd Hansen’s knee pressed into his back and both arms pulled taught behind him while Lloyd binds his wrists together with the Hermes ascot scarf ripped from Ransom’s own neck.

Lloyd clucks his tongue. “Lock the door or I start cutting his fingers off. Barnes and Rogers only said they want your boss alive; they didn’t say how much of him still needs to be intact.”

“Do it,” Ransom grunts, turning his head away from you, clearly embarrassed at his predicament.

You turn and slowly close the door. You know there are still people working at Blood Like Wine tonight, and while it’s not likely that any of them will be passing through this wing after normal business hours, it’s probably safer that they stay out than accidentally stumble into whatever this dangerous mess is evolving into. You wished you had suppressed your own urge to investigate.

When you turn back around, Lloyd is unbuckling his belt as he continues to kneel against Ransoms back. He pulls it out, uses it to gag Ransom, giving it an additional tug after already pulling it tightly, and fastens it off.

“There, that’s just about perfect.”

“What are-?” You venture to ask, but he abruptly cuts you off.

“No one asked you to talk, sweetie, now come away from that door.”

You only take two reluctant steps towards them when there’s a scraping of wood that draws everyone’s attention to the opposite side of the room.

A piece of the floor is slowly being lifted from below, pushed out of the way, and then another man pops up from out of the floor. He hefts himself out of the hole in the floor and then drops a duffel bag on the floor, the heavy sound of muffled metal hinting at the equipment he’s brought with him.

“Oh, good, you’ve already done some of my work for me,” the tall, dark-haired man appraises the situation he’s just stepped into.

“Who the fuck are you, and where’d you come from?”

“Clearly you watched me ascend from a trapdoor in the floor.” He stalks over to stand in front of the large mahogany desk and sits back on the edge. “You didn’t think Harlan Thrombey - noted mystery author - wouldn’t have a publishing house full of trapdoors and secret passageways?”

“Didn’t need to, walked right in the front door. Still waiting to find out who you are.”

“God the Bounty Hunter.”

“Ooh,” Lloyd cocks his head, and another one of his smirks returns, “I can’t say I hate the audacity. Very bold. But there are a lot of gods and only one Lloyd Hansen.

“Now we’re clearly both here because of the hit put out for this prick, but since there are two of them and two of us, why don’t you make yourself useful, God, and tie up this little Margaret while I get Ransom nice and comfortable here.”

“With pleasure,” God says, and beckons you over to him.

The way he fixes you with his gaze is so intense you can’t to resist his silent command. He stands when you’re just a foot or two away, puts a ringer under your chin to tilt your head up, and looks down into your face. You don’t dare look away, nor do you want to, for some reason.

After another moment, he lets your chin drop, and God begins to circle you, looking you up and down. You hold very still. “You don’t need to be tied up, do you? You like to behave, to be praised.”

Lloyd lets out a loud, longsuffering sigh. “Fine, it can be more fun when they’re tied up, but I’m not picky as long as I get what I want.” Then his tone changes, directing his next words at you. “Understand, sweetie?”

You nod.

“Good.” With that, Lloyd pushes his knee roughly into Ransom’s back, drawing a painful groan from the bound man, before standing and hauling Ransom up with him. He shoves Ransom down to sit on the couch that faces the desk in the small entertaining area of Ransom’s office. “Now Relax, let me pour myself a drink. No reason we can’t enjoy ourselves for a few minutes, for old time’s sake.”

While Lloyd pours some bourbon, God steps right up behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. He moves your hair off your shoulder, and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You be very good, and I’ll make you my angel.” You can’t help but shiver - it’s the heat of his breath at your neck and the promised threat - and you know he notices your reaction, because there’s a soft, dark chuckle before he presses a hot kiss to the base of your neck. His hand comes around to your front, toying with the edge of your open collar, and then he lightly draws his index finger along your clavicle and then up the other side of your neck. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you gasp when his other hand quickly pushes a small piece of metal right below your ear.

“And what’s that?” Lloyd asks, not missing the tagging.

“A little incentive for obedience,” God answers. “Fifty-thousand volts when fully unleashed.”

There’s a non-electrically generated jolt in your stomach, but it’s not pure fear, it’s tinged with a little adrenaline as well.

“Huh. To each his own. Now down to business, Ran.”

God steps back and then leans on the edge of the desk again. He pulls you to stand between his legs, your back up against his chest, and his hands settle on your shoulders. Standing against him like this has your hips aligned with his, and you have no doubt it’s setting the stage for his intentions, even if it seems harmless enough now. It mimics a familiarity between partners that is both soothing and unsettling.

Across the room, Lloyd takes a seat on the other side of the couch from Ransom, drink in one hand, and draping his arm casually along the back of the couch. “It was quite a convenient circumstance that even had me nearby to make this social call Ransom. Couldn’t be happier that I’d get to drop in on you for something like this. Ransom and I both went to Yale, you know,” he tosses this part across the room to you and God. “Even ended up in the same fraternity. But he was a senior, I was a freshman. Didn’t spare me the time of day except for the hazing, right?”

His focus shifts back to Ransom, who only gives Lloyd a cold stare, unmoving, clearly not wanting to give Lloyd the satisfaction of any emotional reactions.

God’s hands shift from your shoulders and begin to stroke up and down your arms.

“Why am I boring us all with the backstory though? Old college buddies is pretty typical. You know what’s not typical? Barnes and Rogers putting a bounty out for someone. They’ve got their own guys, and you’re not hard to find.”

The hands move from your arms to your waist, moving up and down your ribs, and still Lloyd keeps talking.

“So, either you’re too important and they wanted the closest person available to pick you up and make a rush delivery to their door, or you’re not important enough for them to want to dispatch any of their own men to deal with you. Outsourcing because you’re still an inconvenience to them, and they can’t let you go unpunished.

Strong hands on your hips.

“Maybe you can prove to be useful tonight, sweetie. How long have you worked for Ranny here?”

You don’t know if you should be surprised that he’s turned his attention to you for questioning, but you do your best to keep your mind focused as you answer him. “I’ve worked for Mr. Drysdale for – oh –” God starts rubbing circles over your hipbones, applying more pressure and pushing you back against a very prominent erection “– a little over seven months.”

“Mr. Drysdale, eh?” Lloyd’s perennial smirk grows, and he tilts his head, tsking again. “You don’t have to pretend like you’re not assisting him after hours, I told you we were in the same frat, so I know what this bastard gets up to.”

Your mouth drops open a little, and Lloyd looks from you to Ransom, whose cold stare has turned into an unmistakable glare.

“Oho! So, she does only assist you professionally?” Lloyd laughs, seemingly out of genuine amusement. “You really are useless, Ranny.”

God is still relentless in touching you, exploring over and even under the clothing, one of his hands sliding down your leg to slip under your skirt to skim up your thigh, and the other stroking just under your breasts, calculated touches to evoke responses but not yet to take or give any more satisfaction.

Both strangers are demanding your attention, and you’re almost evenly divided between Lloyd’s words and God’s actions.

“She probably would’ve slept with you the first two weeks on the job, but now she’s gotta know you’re an insufferable prick.”

Would you have? You don’t think either statement is true. You were never drawn in by Ransom, and since working for him, you’ve only been focused on doing your job well, getting a good paycheck, and going home. Ransom wasn’t particularly demanding compared to other executives, and so you had only wanted him to continue to respect and rely on your assistance so he’d find you indispensable and raise your salary regularly.

God finally speaks again. “We should let the man see what he’ll never have.”

Lloyd sits back in the chair. “I’m not opposed.”

Your face burned. There was no question what he meant, and you did not want Ransom to see you on display, but Lloyd is intimidating and God is intoxicating, so you can do no more than comply as God unzips your skirt and pushes it to the floor.

Next he turns you around and works on the buttons of your shirt, in no hurry, putting your ass on display for Lloyd and Ransom while torturing you with more of the heated, intense eye contact that makes you nearly forget to breathe.

You’re only warned that Lloyd’s behind you when God looks over your shoulder, and you turn your head, but before you can fully face him, his hand has come down against your ass with enough force that you fall against God’s chest. He spanks you again, harder, and you whimper in God’s arms, your head falling against his shoulder with the sting and shock and humiliation.

Then, in another quick turn of events, Lloyd grasps the waistband of your panties with one hand, and you briefly feel the chill of metal against your skin as he slips a knife under the fabric and then slashes them away with two strokes and throws the fabric on the desk.

“Move, God, I want her up on the desk.”

God stands again, and he pulls your shirt off your shoulders as he moves away.

Lloyd could unclasp your bra, but of course Lloyd uses the knife to slice through the band.

“Drop it,” he instructs.

With a deep, steadying breath, you do as he says.

“Turn and sit up on the desk for us.”

You’ve taken hundreds of orders from this office, completing tasks you enjoyed and hated, this can be just another of those.

“Open those thighs for us all to see, sweetie.”

You close your eyes. You know what they will see, and the shame burns in your stomach.

Lloyd taps the flat part of his knife just above your knee. “Now.”

You bite your lip and look at the ground as you spread your legs. Lloyd presses the edge of the knife to the flesh of your inner thigh, forcing you to spread even wider if you don’t want him to cut into you.

Lloyd brings his knife to your chin to tilt your face up to look at him as he traces your wet folds with two fingers. The smirk is gone, replaced by a wicked grin. “Nice and slick for us.”

“God’s handiwork,” the other man is quick to note.

“Sure. A nice little sacrificial offering. Now, Ransom, since you’ve never had a taste, seems a shame not to give you a sample,” Lloyd says.

Ransom shifts and begins to stand, but Lloyd turns abruptly and points at him with the knife. “Stay there, you dumb fuck.”

Ransom sits back again.

“And don’t you dare look away.” He looks to God. “Shoot him if he does.”

God pulls a gun from behind his back that he must have had tucked into his waistband. You watch as he moves to the other side of the room and stands behind Ransom. He plants his gun at the base of Ransom’s skull, then locks eyes with you again. It’s clear he doesn’t want take his eyes off you if he’s going to have to ensure Ransom doesn’t either. Something in your chest stirs under his rapt attention.

Lloyd demands your attention again as he grips your hips and pulls you to the edge of the mahogany desk. He slaps your pussy, drawing a sharp cry from you, then drops down to delve between your thighs. He gives your clit a vicious nip, and you bit back another yelp. His tongue plunders into your cunt, licking and sucking, and your hands are moving to grasp his skull to anchor yourself, but he’s already pulling away. As he stands, he yanks you off the desk, and strides across the room, dragging you with him.

He spits directly in Ransom’s face – a combination of Lloyd’s saliva and your slick that he’s not able to do anything but let drip down his face. Your mouth is agape, truly shocked. Ransom’s entire body radiates rage and embarrassment.

“That’s all you’ll be getting from her, Drysdale.”

Then Lloyd’s shoves you to your knees, putting you on display in profile to the other men. He undoes the zipper of his pants, releasing his cock, no underwear to fuss about.

“Open up,” he demands, and you comply, unwilling to provoke this demon who clearly doesn’t play by any rules.

He slips the angry red tip of his cock into your mouth. “Be good,” he warns. You give a small nod, closing your mouth around him. With one hand, he grips your head and begins to thrust in and out of your mouth. You and gag, and your eyes close as you try to focus very hard on breathing through your nose. He’s hitting the back of your throat with each brutal thrust, and the tears spill quickly down your face.

“Eyes on me,” he grunts, and you force them open and look up at him, knowing what he wants to see. He groans in approval. “You are a pretty little trinket, prettier when you cry.”

Then he abruptly pulls you off his dick and grips you by the chin and turns your head for Ransom and God. “Fucking look at her, swollen lips, gasping for breath, desperate.”

Just as quickly he slots his dick back in your mouth, this time gripping your head with both hands and he fucks your face with abandon. Fast. Hard. Your whimpers turn into sobs, and your hands come up to brace and grasp desperately at his thighs. “You can still take it,” Lloyd growls, undeterred, and you’re powerless to stop him. The tears are not just running but flooding down your cheeks. It’s too much now, and you can’t get enough air, and vision is going black. Finally he throws you off and away from him, and turns to aim his cock at Ransom, shooting his load over his face and shoulders, letting out a hiss that turns into a hum.

You’re hunched over and you wretch – blessedly only once – bracing your hands on the floor, and you gulp and heave, lungs fraught for the necessary oxygen.

Lloyd is talking again. The voice registers, but not the words.

And there are warm hands on you again. One rubbing small circles at the base of your spine, the other pushing your hair out of your face and coaxing you to look up at him.

With enough soothing, God has you breathing evenly again, and you’re still crying a little, but he helps you up onto the couch and sits next to you, very close, and he tucks a hand under your chin and lifts your face up, then he licks your left cheek, then the right, lapping up the tears. You hiccup, not sure how to react. Then he merely strokes your cheek, and the fingers trail down your neck, down your chest, down, down…

“Boring,” Lloyd announces.

You look up at him for a moment, but then God’s questing fingers reach the point he really wants to concentrate his might on, plunging into your wet cunt, and your eyes flutter closed.

“I’m eager to be done here,” Lloyd continues while God continues pumping his digits in and out of you. “We don’t need any more dumbasses showing up for this fool.”

“Agreed,” God says, casually as if he’s not beginning to pull you apart softly but surely. “You take him. I’ll keep her. There’s room for her in the trunk next to the cargo.”

“Fine, I wasn’t fussed about the goods anyway, I only took this job for the satisfaction of humiliating Drysdale, and that’s already exceeded my expectations. I’m sure Barnes and Rogers will give you enough for the recovered inventory even without him, and I’ll do you a solid and not mention the little side piece you’ll be keeping for yourself.”

God moves you off the couch, coaxing you to lean over the coffee table and kneels behind you. “Good.”

You moan as God slowly pushes his hard length inside your cunt.

There’s a thud next to you, and you turn to see a pile of Ransom hit the floor a few feet away.

“I assume you’ve got a way to move this man through down in that passage?” Lloyd asks, dragging the unconscious figure across the floor by his feet.

“Mhmm,” he responds, more intent on the movement of his hips against yours, slowly pistonning in and out of your tight heat.

“Good. This was fun enough, but let’s not do this again.”

God pulls your head up roughly to look at Lloyd just as he’s about to drop into the floor. “Say goodbye to Lloyd, Angel.”

You’re barely able to make the, “Bye,” tumble out of your lips, you’re so full of this man behind you, and his sudden roughness taking you by surprise.

Lloyd chuckles, then disappears.

God lets you drop back down, leaning on your elbows.

“I thought he’d never stop talking,” God murmurs.

It’s bitter, but a laugh actually falls from your lips, but you still can’t form words.

“There’s other things I’d rather do with you around than talk.”

He adjusts his angle from behind you. It allows him to plunge more of his cock into your slick channel, and you groan, but then after only a few thrusts, he pauses, balls deep inside you.

“You took what he gave you, but I think you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

You’re breathless. You can’t speak. You don’t want to speak?

He places his right hand, palm flat, at the base of your spine and presses it slowly up your back, his middle finger trailing up the ridge of your vertebrae, and you can feel the metal of his ring draw a line along your skin.

“You were very good.”

He rocks his hips against you, and you whimper.

“I said I would make you mine if you were good.”

Another rocking. He moves his hand from the nape of your neck around to grip it fully, and he pulls you back up against his chest, and you’re gasping for air for a moment, both hands coming up to clutch at his arm.

He lowers his voice and delivers his next words right into your ear. “You want to be mine, don’t you?”

Your pussy clenches around him, and he presses a kiss against your throat, and you feel the smile of his lips against your skin.

His other hand moves down across your hip, to your vee, and his deft fingers stroke your throbbing clit. He doesn’t move his cock, but he does move those fingers expertly, drawing tight little circles that wind you up to the top until you’re flung off the edge and into pure pleasure.

Coming down from your first orgasm, you sink against him. As your breathing returns to normal, the hand on your neck remains like an anchor, but his other hand moves up to tilt your chin to the side and up to meet his lips. The kiss claims you, and you part your lips for him, just as you’ve parted your legs for him – willingly.

“That was one, but I want a trinity to secure your devotion here tonight. I’m going to fuck you dumb, dress you, and then you’re going to walk out of here like a sweet little angel and get in my car. Then I’ll let you choose. You can sit up front and keep my cock warm or you can crawl in the back of the trunk. Your choice.”

How are we?

I'm ruined.

Restore my health with your lovely reblogs, commentary, comments...

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[gomzwrites]

*brush dust away* hello hi, just wanted to drop this here, okay bye

Stress Relief

contains smut(18+), minors do not interact

Pairing: John Price x fem!reader

Tags: this is just smut, plot what plot, consent check, nickname used, rough oral sex, cunnilingus, deepthroating, deepthroating with a surprise, praise kink, dirty talk, xfem!reader, use of y/n, mention of female anatomy, use of cunt, established relationship, probably shit grammar and English

Reader's text is in purple

side note: writer is insane, writer also have no idea how to end a smut fic, writer haven't write in forever and decided to do it in a random Sunday morning unprovoked

Something had been bothering Price. Whether it was the ever-increasing pile of paperwork on his desk or that incessant buzz echoing precisely every 7.5 seconds next door, it had been getting on his nerves. 

He released his grip on his hair, ruffling it in an attempt to make it look more presentable. As if the bangs hanging low on his forehead were somehow professional.

“Fuck,” He mumbled under his breath, rubbing the crease between his eyebrows as he lets out a long sigh.

A cigar would have been perfect at this moment. 

Well, it would have been.

The drawers he pulled out revealed nothing but dust; he had forgotten to top up his favorite since the last mission. He grumbled, slamming the drawers shut as he leaned back in his chair. The chair creaked under his weight as he closed his eyes, trying to level this annoyance out of his system. 

Drowning himself in work could help, except that's what he had been doing for the past six hours (or more—time was a figment of imagination at this point with the overwhelming tasks at hand). Another long sigh escaped him, less frustration and more exasperation.

The door opened, and he didn't even need to lift his head up to know who entered.

Bad timing. Or perhaps, great timing?

“Someone’s grumpy today,” She mused, patting off the dust from her pants as she leaned over the chair and rested her chin on his shoulder. “Not a good time,” he mumbled back, sighing as he gestured to the desk filled with papers, as if that were the cause rather than the visible annoyance signaling his state of mind.

“You ever had a good time when you’re in the office?” she replied, spinning his chair around to face him, smiling as she tilted her head towards him.

“You forgot, didn't you?” He raised his brows, watching as she gently nudged the lower drawer with her right foot, knowing where his cigars were. He sighed and nodded in acknowledgment, the lack of the familiar scent of tobacco in the room probably gave it away. 

“How ‘bout tea? Did you even eat anything?” She asked, turning her attention to the reports on his desk, bending forward to grab a few papers and reading them. Price observes, eyes tracing her curves as he hummed.

“Not really hungry,” he croaked out, sounding more strained than it needed to be.

She picked up on it, of course she did, glancing at him over her shoulder as she remained bent on his desk, eyes staring at his blues as she whispers. 

“Perhaps you’re hungry for…something else…” she whispered, an offer. 

He debated on whether he should give in, it’s not unusual for their exchange to end in heated kisses and lingering marks. 

She helped him decide, turning around and getting herself on his table, crossing her legs as she reached her leg out, resting her heels on his thigh, just barely brushing against his length that was already half hard. 

“Should have a proper meal every day, Captain,” she smirked, trailing her eyes over his pants and up to his face, seeing the way his beard shifts.

She liked seeing the effect she had on him.

“Telling me how to eat now, darlin'?” he moves closer, rousing up from his seat, grabbing her foot in the process and conveniently prying it to the side.

“Spread yourself for me”

A blush spread across her cheeks as something coiled in her belly, nodding as she does as he told.

“Atta, girl….” he grumbles, slotting himself between as he reaches out to run his finger over the back of her head, leaning in to kiss his forehead. A small moment of softness, before his hand gripped on the strands slightly, forcing a gasp out of her. “Take it off”

His palm rest beside her thigh, eyes never leaving hers as she takes off her pants as quickly as she could, the fabric drops to the floor with a soft thump.

“Fuck, look at you,” he purrs, running his knuckles over her panties. “Already so wet for me, huh?” he chuckles low, pressing the nub as she jots, a small moan leaving her soft lips, lips he devoured before she could reply.

“I would’ve rub it real nice and slow to see you squirm under me, but not today” he mumbles into her lips as he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting their lips.  “Today….I need to have my meal, like what you said, hm?”

He growls, sitting back on his chair as he holds her thighs and places it on his shoulder, his hot breath fanning against the soaked panties, leaning down to press the flat of his tongue on it, feeling her stifled whimper as her hands reach over to grab his hair.

“Hands to yourself, y/n” His voice is muffled, but still heavy with the authority that makes her head go dizzy, letting go his strands as she shifts, resting it on his desk instead. 

“Good girl…”

That earned a finger swiped over her sex, rubbing that sensitive lil clit before he slides the panty off, bunching it into his pocket as his finger glide along the folds, easing it to open for him as she smirked.

“Such a pretty lil thing, you’re practically glistening, eager much are you?”

He mumbles, felt like that was meant for her cunt instead of her, pushing in his finger lazily, before pulling it off to lick the juices off, sucking the slick from the skin.

Her legs spread wider, hips moving closer to his lips, needy. He suppose he’ll let it pass this time, pressing his tongue on her entrance finally, lapping loudly around the folds, hungry for each drop.

She bites back a moan, gasping and whimpering as his head dive deeper between her legs, his lips wrapping around her clit and sucking gently, before nibbling on it, pulling back enough to make her moan out with a choke. 

“That’s it, come on, let me hear all your pretty noises, luv” His hand raked over her thighs, squeezing, groping as he eats her out like its a fucking fine cuisine, savouring and letting her leak all over him. His chin, his lips, his beard. God he loves it because the smell lingers. It drips onto the desk, he tsk-ed slightly, pulling back as he heaves, glancing up to meet a pair of glossy eyes and that beautiful blush. 

“Lay back”

He encouraged, haphazardly pushing away the documents, with some even tumble over and scattered on the floor, not that it matters for now.

“Price–” She whispered, laying on the desk before she gasped, back arching as he gets back into it, latching onto her clit as he groans.

“Can’t get enough of you, sweetheart,” he rasped, working his tongue and protruding into her hole, feeling the twitch of her thighs closing onto his head.

He smirked, feeling slightly proud as he tongue fucks her, pulling out more mewls and moan from her.

All for him.

He would lose track of time, hell, he would spent his time between her legs forever if he wanted to. Addicted to her taste, her skin and those moans.

“F-fuck– Price– please…”

The knot felt tighter by the second as her head swims, she couldn’t tell what was more turned on for her. The vulgar, downright sinful sounds of her pussy squelching or the way Price moans around her clit, the vibration making her nerves go haywire. A lil bit of both she reconned.

Price knows she’s close with the way her thigh tensed up, her sound growing in volume and quantity, and the incoherent babbles of his name and "please".

“Come for me, want to see you come undone with my tongue alone, y/n” She lets herself go, with a long moan of his name as her thighs tremble and tighten around his head, it was electrifying, seeing whites in her vision as she heaves,

“P-Price–” She pleads weakly, attempting to move his mouth away from her pulsing pussy, begging him to let go, but the grip on her thigh proves the attempt futile as he makes no intention to stop, tipping her over to the next orgasm without pausing. 

She’s not sure how much time has passed, and how many time she came, but eventually when he did, his beard was absolutely drenched, and that smug face he has says it all.

“Think that was enough to keep me going for the week,” Clicking his tongue, he leans down to kiss her, letting her taste herself from his lips, it’s sloppy and slow, downright messy as the kiss becomes open mouthed and uncoordinated.

“Gonna break my cunt one of these days, you fokin’ monster…” she pants slowly, glaring at him slightly as she was still recovering from the shattering experience, grazing her lips on his cheek.

“You haven’t–” “Mhm” 

She sighed, resting her head on the desk as she calmed down, he loomed over her, just taking in the view of her afterglow, letting her catch her breath until eventually hearing her speak again. 

“Gonna let me help you with that?” she teased, hands reaching down to nudge his bulge, straining against his pants as he groaned.

“And how are you going to do that?” he asked back, lips twitching into a smile as she tugs him closer. “Could use my throat…” “Can’t promise I’ll be gentle, dearie” “Then don’t be…”

That earned a growl, she hear his belt clink apart as he rounds the desk, pulling her head to rest at the edge as he heaves, sliding his cock across her face, the precum dripping down and smearing her cheek as she blushes.

“You know what to do when it gets too much, do you?” He rasped, waiting for her to reach out and tap his thigh three times.

“Good girl…now open up for me” He coos, pushing himself into her wet mouth with a grunt, feeling the wet heat of her mouth tightly enveloping his throbbing cock. “Fuck…fuck– so good for me…”

He talks her right through it, easing her into him as his pours endless praises.  

The rhythm he set was slow, before eventually the pace increases, the vibration of her moans against his cock spurring him further, submerging himself fully as she gags, pulling back to let her breathe for not less than 3 seconds before he repeats the process. 

“So tight” he growls, laced with a small hint of desperation.

“Fuck, could see the bulge of my cock from this angle you know that?” his hips jerks slightly harder to make a point, feeling her squirmed, her shaky hands reaching up.

He half expected her to pull him away, it has been a while for their session to be on the rougher side, what he didn’t expect was her hand wrapping around her throat, pressing against his cock through the skin as he moaned.

“Shit– y/n–”

Her finger added another layer of sensation, the grip making his head spin as his hips thrust into her neck, it felt way too good.

“Fuck…do it that way yeah…yeah oh god–” The sound of panting and grunt mixed with gags filled the room. Her eyes closed as she tries to breathe, the combined motion of his cock deep in her with the grip on her own neck making her head spin, slightly uncomfortable with how wide she was stretched out, and yet she wanted more.

The next time he pulled out, her face heavy with drool and his slick, she whined at the loss, pulling the hem of his pants closer to her.

“Easy…easy y/n...” He chuckles breathlessly above her, running a thumb across her lips as he sighs.

“Just, give me a sec….nearly blow a load right there,”An odd sense of pride swells in her, to see him, the untamable Captain catching his breath because of her.

“Please,” she pleaded out, voice already long gone as she tugs his pants again.

“I know I know…I’ll give it to you, okay?” He coos softly, easing the tip back to her mouth, then back out again as he laughs slightly, seeing the huffs and frown on her flushed out face.

“So impatient…”He mumbles quietly, but lets out a guttural groan when he slips it in all the way, his member pressing at the back of her throat. 

The pace returns, with Price bringing his knee up to the table, diving deeper into her throat as he moans.

“Do the thing again…come on”He taps her face twice, her eyes opening as she reached up her throat and press, making both of them groan in unison.

“Shit…so close–” His voice comes out ragged and short, thrusting in short jerking motion as he groans, she arches her back once more, causing the bulge to be more obvious as she rubs the length on her neck, hearing the muttered curses from him as her eyes roll back.

“Coming–”

He rasped out, bottoming and coming ropes of white into her throat as he lets out a silent moan, keeping it there before feeling the taps on his thigh, immediately pulling back with a lewd pop as she swallows.

“You with me, sweetheart?” He whispers, brushing her hair away, hands sliding down to her cheeks, warm and burning as she offers a weak nod, smiling lazily as she licks the last bit of cum off his cock still resting on her face. 

“Minx” He chuckles, slowly pulling her up, hooking an arm around her leg and carrying her to the couch, placing her on his lap comfortably as he hummed.

“How’s your throat…” He whispers, kissing her neck softly as she shivers.

“No–” she gets into a fits of cough, Price patting her back to soothe it.

“Not great,” she chuckles, her voice was far gone that’s for sure.

“Sorry”

“Don’t be”, she smiled reassuringly, kissing his forehead. She rests against his neck, feeling his arms wrapped around her as she melts into the embrace. They lay comfortably, just breathing slowly as they let their nerves die down.

“Where the hell did you learn to do that, huh?” “Somewhere” “Real specific, y/n” “Well you liked it, didn’t you?” “Prob’ won’t stop thinking about it, fucking hell…” “Mmm, that’s all I need to know” He chuckles, nibbling his ears as she giggles.

“Thank you, appreciate it you know” “Anytime, John” “Anytime?” “Oh fuck off, can’t go another round man”

They laughed, and the conversation ends with a few more meaningless exchange, eventually ending with a small nap on the couch. 

❛ ━━･❪ ✿ ❫ ･━━ ❜

a/n: Im away I've been away for a very long time, but I decided to share this smut fic heh, reblogs are appreciated

[kxllerblond]

anyway clark tolerates shit like being stabbed more than blatant disrespect 😵‍💫like he is fr not the one to mouth off to he will read u to shambles n then ruin ur life

[firstwcman]

This is a permanent starter call. This post acts as a way to let me know that you don't mind me coming to your inbox unprovoked with visitations and a plethora of memes (I like to send more than one selection for sentence prompts, for example), and throwing starters at you at any given point in time with no warning. Please drop a 🔮 in the replies if you're interested, or you can like this post if you prefer - I just don't want to take up space in likes.

If you're a multimuse, jot down the muses you would like to have interact with Lilith. This does not strictly confine the others from interacting with her in any way, it's just a kickoff point so we both know where to start. This, however, is not at all required - you can just simply drop the crystal ball/like if that means you want her interacting with everyone you got.

⛧ — aaaand that's all, folks!

[lunaetis]

shipping with me means i'll randomly drop you some arts or ideas to back my case on why your muses should jump mine, and doing the same with the case of why my muses would jump / bite yours unprovoked.

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1116 - Initial Thoughts

The lore keeps coming, and more is still to come

Vegapunk has been dropping bombs while Egghead descends into fiery chaos, let's see what more he can tell us

Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release too

A bento from Tsuru this time for Yamato, don't like that Ushimaru's still hovering around there, he got his shit slapped by Luffy sure but he profited from Orochi's rule

The world continues to question Vegapunk's revelations, how can such island-destroying weapons still exist? Who could live for 800 years to continue the war?

Who indeed, as we see more of Imu's room

They stand at a big portrait, she looks like Vivi but I'd bet on this being Nefetari D. Lily

Alabasta remains in mourning too, Igaram and Karoo continue to worry about Vivi being missing

Chaka and Pell attend Cobra's funeral

During this, Vegapunk reveals how he had sought a clean energy source, and that as a result he was able to create the Mother Flame

Wait, Lulusia was done by a fragment of it?? The WG stole it from Vegapunk?

The CP agents and Seraphim look in a bad way from the landing too

Edison and Stussy discuss what happened, surmising that another Gorosei is moving up to the Labophase

Edison can't help the Straw Hats anymore either, since the clouds can't reach them anymore

Stussy, to his surprise, requests that Kaku be freed - insisting that she won't let them target the crew, but doubt that's his priority

Edison apologizes for Stussy, noting that she identified the CP0 lot as her friends and was still chose Vegapunk over them

Kaku you better pull through after this, this is thrice now your life has been spared

Edison points out that her conflict is proof of her humanity, and encourages to live how she pleases

Back to Vegapunk, he explains how the Mother Flame's theft led to Lulusia

The Lulusia survivors with the Revolutionary Army have to sit and hear how their country was wiped out by an unprovoked assault

Elizabello cameo as he didn't even know that Lulusia was taken down, and asks to confirm it

The Mother Flame fragment was used to power an ancient weapon, all but hinting that the WG have Uranus as we expected

Vegapunk apologizes in the video, declaring himself an accessory to murder, while also pointing out that it has likely proven his theory

It seems many in the crowd don't hold Vegapunk accountable though

Momo however is again being very attentive, asking what that means for Pluton

Crocodile is also listening intently, given his desires for Pluton

And we pan over to Shirahoshi too, since she's also an Ancient Weapon

Vegapunk says that Joy Boy attempted to pass down the Ancient Weapons, which begets the question why? Why encourage the flooding of the world?

Sengoku is stress eating through this too

Vegapunk also points out that there are those who know about the Void Century

Akainu also seems intrigued - in his own angry way - about Vegapunk spilling the deets

As we already knew, Roger's crew know the secrets

The Navy however did not know, freaking out that pirates know

Of course, many of the public are also baffled that 'evil pirates' have been trusted with such information

York is having a freak out too, wondering how Vegapunk could've known that she stole the Mother Flame for the Gorosei

He's apparently a bad liar and actor, so she starts connecting the dots; his surprise at her betrayal, the preparation of the broadcast, the hiding of the snail

Wormy's back, and nah he's just up and eating the CP agents

York hits a brainwave though, the broadcast snail is in the Fabiostratum

The Iron Giant is guarding it!

Back at Sabaody, Vegapunk's broadcast muses why the Roger Pirates kept such information secret? Why fade into hiding?

Rayleigh meanwhile is drinking heavier than usual, accusing Vegapunk of telling the world too much

He doesn't want Vegapunk to take the thrill of knowing away

Oooof, another week break

Well what is that supposed to mean huh?

Lore-wise nothing was really dropped from Vegapunk that we didn't already know, aside that the weapon used on Lulusia was powered partially by the Mother Flame. But it still gives some questions.

Why would Rayleigh be excited about the idea of a flooded planet? Was there more to the Ancient Weapons? If the sea levels rose 200m in the Void Century was Joy Boy behind it? A Sea of Pirates perhaps?

And what's with the Lily poster Imu? You wanted to murder Vivi and yet you have a portrait of her ancestor, an ancestor they criticized to Cobra, in your special little vivarium room?

Kaku and Stussy meanwhile look like they're planning an exit, though I still don't trust Lucci to try and go for the double tap. The question now however is if Kaku will take the out? I know we all want him to but we also wanted Kizaru to turn face and...yeah look where that got us?

Not many super surprising cameos this time, I guess Elizabello II is one, a fellow Grand Fleet Member and King would have stock in learning that a nation was wiped out by the WG. And we got to see Crocodile but no dialogue. Heck we didn't even see any Straw Hats this time! The question on my mind still though is this: why was video needed? What visual does Vegapunk still need to show?

The Iron Giant at least has a purpose now, being the front line for the broadcast snail, but that puts a target on his back, as does being a Roger Pirate now, Buggy's legacy will only grow given how they'll assume that he holds ancient knowledge XD

As usual though, more questions than answers.

[theflagscene]

Things I’ve learned from reading The Sign novel that I’m glad they changed for the show (so far)

Singh being at training camp and being the one everyone bullied, I mean everyone! Even our heroes.

Thongthai and Khem being two of Chart’s lackeys

Tharn and Yai realizing who Phaya was the day they got to the training camp.

Singh apparently has 10 degrees? Dude’s like 26 years old, that’s a little much there babe.

Tharn blurting out that he likes women during a quiet moment with Phaya, completely unprovoked, even though for so many chapters Yai has mused about how often he has to stop Tharn from staring at hot guys, has to stop Tharn from staring at Phaya when he’s barely dressed, literally had to dump water on him to stop him from fixating on Phaya. But yeah, okay you’re super duper straight Tharn.

Phaya being in love with Dao and nearly hounding her about being in love with her until she basically puts him down like a lame dog.

A very clear case of ‘it’s not men it’s just him’ syndrome happening between Phaya/Tharn, easily my least favourite trope of all time.

Phaya having a mom and older brother in his life, Nee’s there too but we like her.

Tharn’s mom being alive

Chart becoming part of their friend group because of Thongthai and Khem.

Singh and Chart start dating after Chart breaks his leg and has to leave training. (WHAT!?)

Tharn being not only a sloppy drunk but a crying drunk, they basically made him a weeping clingy uwu teenaged girl every time he had a drink and it was borderline misogynistic.

The police captain being a ‘tall beauty queen’ of a woman that apparently leaves all men struck dumb the moment they see her. (Oh spare me the ‘jaw dropping gorgeous not like other girls’ character)

And that was just from the first like ten chapters, I’m not even close to the Garuda and Naga stuff, forget about the cop crap! Like this was just up to right after the Naga festival, so what, like 3 episodes?

What I wish they had left in!!!!

Tharn and Phaya’s beds being next to one another instead of Tharn and Yai bunking together, the pair whispering and gossiping constantly under their blankets to the point that the other guys start to think they’re into each other way sooner.

“Yes, my wife Sand is trans, a trans woman. I don’t care, I dated her when she was a man because I was in love with her. I don’t care what she is, she is she. Sand is Sand and I love her.”

YAI!!!! YOU PERFECT LITTLE HONEY BEE! I NEED A YAISAND SPIN OFF ASAP!!!

All the green flags!!!

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚