#dirty deadly politics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

separatist-apologist · 4 months

Text

Something In The Orange

Summary: Someone is trying to murder Eris Vanserra's soon-to-be wife.

And no one can rule him out as a suspect

Note: Big thanks to @octobers-veryown for the mood board and the unknown anon for the song inspiration.

For @sjmromanceweek

Read On AO3

For the entirety of Arina’s life, she’d been destined to be the wife of a Vanserra. Lucien Vanserra to be specific. The ink on her marriage contract was dried before she herself was, likely still squalling in a midwife’s aching arms as her father lamented his poor fortune. Sons brought glory, daughters cost money.

Arina might have been angry about her circumstances in a different life. In this one, though, Arina considered herself luckier than most other women she knew. Lucien was merely a year older than her—a seventh son, too, which meant he’d be sent off to some country estate, lord of the territory his father gave him. She would have no responsibility toward a vulnerable population nor would Arina ever be in danger of becoming queen.

After years of watching her father rule, a minor lord on the outskirts of the massive kingdom the Vanserra’s ruled, Arina thought that was a blessing. There was never enough gold to go around and what little money that could be scraped together, her father took in taxes. Arina felt shame every time she was paraded through the small city they lived in, dressed in finery while the people stared up, faces dirty, clothes threadbear.

Beron Vanserra sent a chest of gold meant for Arina every year on her birthday. It was for her education and other frippery according to the notes—though in truth, Arina suspected it was a reminder that her father owed Beron. There was no backing out, no offering Arina up for better prospects.

There were no better prospects, to be fair. No one wanted the poor daughter of minor nobility nor did they want to inherit her fathers poor kingdom. Beron intended to subsume it into his own, allowing her family the rights to the land so long as they kissed the Vanserra ring. That was her fathers problem—not hers. Arina intended to waste her time drinking and dancing and whatever else the wives of Vanserras did.

Beron put the marriage off for a total three years past their original agreement. She should have married Lucien when she was eighteen—and yet Arina wasn’t officially called to the palace until the eve of her twenty-first birthday. Arina was instructed to come without a retinue. Only her father accompanied her, silent in the carriage as they rode. He didn’t need to speak to her in order for his will to be clear—if she did anything to mess this up, the consequences would be severe.

Deadly, even.

After all, Arina’s mother had not survived long enough to bring another child into her fathers world. No sons would save their family, leaving Arina to marry well and without complaint. She’d written to Lucien over the years and he’d written back. It was hardly some great love match but he seemed nice enough. Funny, when he wanted to be, and polite when he didn’t. Arina had decided long before now that she was satisfied with this man.

Unlike her own home which seemed to be in a constant state of disrepair, the Vanserra palace was massive. Made of glittering gold and wild, old oak, the sprawling castle dripped with wealth. The city that surrounded it was just as opulent, though there was an aura of despair hanging in the air that tasted sickly sweet in Arina’s mouth.

There was a clear and obvious divide between those with power and influence and those who did not. Arina had expected to see wealth equally which was perhaps naive. Beron had always seemed generous to her, sending gifts of gold and jewels on a whim. Why would his people fare any differently?

That wasn’t her problem, she reminded herself. All Arina needed to do was fulfill her end of the contract, marry Lucien, and get on with things. Arina could simply turn her face from the fingerprint stained window and study the palace. It truly was beautiful, illuminated by warm shafts of spring light and framed just beyond by newly awakened trees crammed so tightly together it was impossible to tell where one ended and the next began.

The palace itself was walled off, using both a gate that had to be opened for their carriage to pass through, and a bridge that caused the vehicle to lurch back and forth sickeningly. Beyond, Arina saw a white, ivory garden wall encircling at least the front of the palace, monitored by guards walking the length with sharp swords and a quiver of arrows against their backs.

That didn’t keep people out—it merely kept them aware of the fate that would befall them should anyone decide to step out of line. As Arina disembarked, smoothing the wrinkles out of her rose pink skirts, her father was patted down for weapons. No one but the guards were allowed to be armed in the presence of the king, and Arina wondered if her father would get his sword back.

No one bothered to check her, which was lucky. They’d have found a small hunting knife tucked into her boot.

Arina didn’t expect to need it—but it never hurt to be prepared. This was a new court with new men, and the ones back home were just handsy enough that Arina felt better with a knife. An old servant had taught her to use it—in exchange for a kiss she’d been all too happy to oblige him with—before her father sent him away.

Arina was surprised by how busy the palace seemed to be. People moved around the drive, some making their way toward the front doors, open wide as butlers checked lists before allowing them through. Others, carrying heavy baskets covered in thin, white blankets, quickly walked around the palace toward some side door servants who were expected to enter and exit. There was an obvious and clear divide—neither groups looked at the other nor did they interact. It was as if neither was there.

A game of play-pretend, Arina supposed as she fell in step behind her father. Bowing her head ever so slightly, Arina clasped her hands in front of her body and began her own game of play-pretend. In this game, she was the obedient, demure daughter of her father and would become the obedient, demure wife of Lucien, too.

“This way, my lord,” a butler dressed in black with silver buttons, beckoned for her father to follow. What would her mother think of all this? Would she have been allowed to come, too? Arina barely remembered anything about the woman who had given her life—her mother had been sick more often than not, leaving Arina in the care of nurses and governesses.

This was how her mother had been married, though. Back then their home had been worth something and her fathers name carried weight. He’d had the pick of the available ladies and had chosen her mother.

Arina had dared to ask him why, once. She was the most beautiful of the lot.

He’d said it so dismissively, like it ought to have been obvious to Arina. She knew she was too romantic—a dozen tutors had accused her of no less over the years. She knew her marriage was about practicality and not romance and still, over the years, she’d clung to those letters from Lucien and hoped that maybe there could be something between them. He seemed friendly enough. Nice, too, though of course she might have read too much into his careful, polite words.

Arina had been holding that hope for years, though. All of it was about to come to fruition as they stepped into a small study where Beron was waiting behind a glossy top wooden desk. Huge windows, framed with maroon, velvet curtains, allowed light to stream into the room.

Arina and her father bowed, though Arina found herself looking at the man leaned up against a bookcase with a sour expression on his face.

This wasn’t Lucien—she’d seen him a few times in her youth and what she remembered painted Lucien as a man with far darker skin similar to the shade of her own skin. His hair had always been long, his features softer. This man was fair skinned and tall, muscular like it was intentional versus the accidental effects of laborious work. His auburn hair was cut short, his eyes a cool, amber brown, his features sharp as though he’d been recently carved from marble. He was beautiful and cold in equal measure and Arina was grateful he wasn’t looking at her.

“This is your daughter?” Beron asked, rising from his chair with gleaming brown eyes. There was no mistaking him and his son—they were so painfully related even if the other man’s features came from his mother, their expressions, their posture—that was all the same.

Cold men holding court. Arina took a small step backward without meaning to, instinctively looking for the door. This caught the younger man’s attention. His gaze flicked to her face, mouth sloping into a deep set frown. Why was he here?

There was no escape. Arina’s father caught her wrist and thrust her forward like she was little more than a prized cow at auction. Beron looked her over dispassionately.

“She looks just like her mother.”

Arina felt frozen right then, heart pounding in her chest. This wasn’t what she’d imagined. She’d pictured Lucien greeting her and spending the next month getting to know him outside the watchful eyes of their parents. Maybe she’d see the king once or twice as he arranged their little marriage and then sent them off.

Not this.

“Your letter said you wanted to discuss the terms of our original agreement?” her father said, taking the hand that had once been wrapped around her wrist to place it on her shoulder. At this, the younger man looked away again, his face unable to conceal his disgust.

Beron sighed, turning his head toward the window for a moment. “My youngest son has been accused of compromising another lady of court.”

Oh no.

Beside Arina, her father became notably interested. His expression brightened, his posture just a little more rigid. This was good news, though for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why. Beron noticed it, too, if his own darkened gaze was any indication. Something in the original contract had stipulated for this and whatever it was, it clearly benefited her father.

“When we put the original agreement together, we accounted for this,” Beron began smoothly, picking up a neatly folded document to hand to her father.

“We did,” her father agreed, taking that document without reading it. “I assume you’ve come to make an offer.”

“My eldest son,” Beron replied easily, gesturing to the man still leaning against the bookcase. “Eris and I have spoken and he’s agreed to fulfill his brothers place.”

Her fathers shoulders slumped ever so slightly as Eris finally righted himself, looking not at Arina but directly at her father. “It would be my pleasure,” he said in a voice that betrayed how little of a pleasure it truly was.

It wasn’t what her father wanted, though whatever it was he’d been hoping to gain, Arina wasn’t going to find out. Beron, aware he had her father boxed in a corner, offered a slick smile.

“Why don’t we go over the terms together? I think you’ll find I’ve been more than generous.”

“You always have been good to our family,” her father gritted out through a syrupy smile.

“Eris, show Arina her accommodations while her father and I talk,” Beron said, waving them both out of the room as though they didn’t matter. Eris had clearly been told of this ahead of time and Arina wished someone would have warned her. Nodding, Eris stepped from the room without looking at her, his shoulders tight beneath the brown of his jacket. She had no choice but to follow after him, fingers curled to fists.

Eris slammed the door behind them loud enough to rattle a nearby picture in its frame. So he was angry, too. She doubted he felt any solidarity with her—she could imagine he saw her as the enemy which was just fine, because he fared no better in her estimation, either.

“You,” Eris barked at a passing servant, beckoning them closer. “Show the lady her room.”

“Your father said—”

“I heard what my father said,” Eris snapped, interrupting Arina before she could get the rest of her indignant words out. “Unless you think my staff can’t be trusted?”

Oh, fuck him, she thought. “Charming,” she replied, holding his gaze. Eris stared back, waiting for her to back down. Arina ought to have. If he’d been anyone else she might have looked away, but this was about to be her future husband and she’d be damned if she let him think she was scared.

Though, she was. Arina was terrified of him.

Eris took a step back when it was clear Arina was prepared to face off with him, inclining his head to the side for a moment as though to study her. “You won’t survive a week in this engagement.”

And with that, he turned on his polished boots and left her to the nervous, near trembling servant. She wasn’t going to chase him down, nor was she going to beg him. He could be mad at her all he liked. It wasn’t until she was being shown a rather large apartment that Arina considered what it meant to marry Eris Vanserra.

Gone were her hopes of an easy, simple life. Suddenly Arina felt the weight of expectation, of a life she’d never been prepared for. She’d be the wife of a king, with all the stipulations that came with that. No matter how cruel Eris was to her, Arina would have to put on a brave face and manage it. She had to have children with that man. Arina tried to picture what it would be like before she forced the image from her mind entirely. Perhaps he’d be quick—she’d heard men were more often than not. She could grit her teeth and get through it and perhaps, if she gave him a son, he’d find himself a mistress and leave her be.

Exile her to a country estate, even, where she could run her own household and have her own life outside of him. It wasn’t the great love she’d been hoping for but it was better than nothing. Better than seven sons, like his own mother had given Beron Vanserra. Two seemed like enough. What Arina needed was a plan.

Staring at the sitting room of the apartment she’d been given, Arina decided right then and there she would make the best of things. It wasn’t what she’d wanted, but it was still an escape from the misery of life with just her father. No more emboldened courtiers pawing at her, no more of her fathers advisors leering and touching when they thought he wasn’t looking. No more being screamed at—at least, by her father. Who knew what kind of tactics Eris might employ?

Separate bedchambers.

Separate lives.

She’d smile and placate him, lulling him into a false sense of security and maybe he’d drop his attitude in favor of apathy. Starting with the dinner she was expected to attend. She’d show him right then and there he didn’t need to concern himself with her at all. Then she could try and make a friend at court who could show her around and help her acclimate herself.

Arina was practically vibrating when she was summoned. She’d changed from pink to a robins egg blue that was entirely modest, from the high neckline to the long sleeves and she’d pinned her thick, long hair up off her face with little pearl pins that matched the ones dangling from her ears.

She looked pretty and she knew it, just like Arina knew that men valued that above all else. When their own children asked Eris why he’d married her, he could tell them she’d been the prettiest woman he’d ever seen and it would be true enough. Maybe her children wouldn’t mind as much.

Eris was waiting in the small dining room when Arina was shown in and to his credit, he rose from his chair the way a gentleman ought to.

“Here,” he said, pushing out her chair with his foot. Arina forced herself to smile at him, smoothing her skirts beneath her as she sat. It was only once she was seated that Eris joined her, angled away as he fiddled with his glass of wine. Was he drunk? His cheeks were slightly flushed, his eyes bright but otherwise he had that same arrogant sneer on his face.

“You look nice,” Arina lied. He looked fine in the same jacket he’d been wearing when they met.

Eris scoffed before downing the remnants of his cup.

“There’s no need to lie, lady.”

“Fine. You look miserable without the manners to even try and conceal it,” she heard herself saying, her good plan crumbling before her eyes. With raised brows, Eris looked over at her.

“Would you like to try that one again, my lady?”

“I was told I’d be marrying your brother,” she hissed, aware there were servants in the room and that gossip spread quickly.

“A fate I’ve so graciously spared you from. Where is your gratitude?” Eris replied dryly.

“Your brother seemed kind–”

“You would have been bored by the end of the month,” Eris snapped, clearly tired. “I thought all women dreamed of being princesses?”

Arina didn’t know what to say to that so she picked at the little beads on her dress if only to have something to do with her hands.

“Well. Your father is certainly pleased,” Eris added seconds before the door opened. His goblet was refilled as her father, Beron, and a retinue of men she didn’t know or recognize strolled in. Their chatter was enough to drown out any remaining conversation between Eris and Arina which could only be a good thing. It was clearly too early to hope they might get along, and Arina needed to figure out a way to leash her temper before it got the better of her.

Again.

Arina was used to being treated as decoration. And as her father sat without acknowledging her—as Beron pulled Eris into a conversation with some of the other courtiers—Arina was left to sit there silently and eat politely. They were all covertly watching her, judging every movement, every whispered sigh, every scrape of her utensils. What would happen if they found her wanting?

She didn’t want to learn the answer to that question so Arina kept a pleasant smile pasted to her face just like she’d learned to do back home. With each new course, Arina made a delicate show of eating only a third of whatever was served to her which clearly pleased some of the older men at the table. She passed on wine in favor of water and whenever a compliment was paid to her, she made a show of dropping her gaze and thanking them demurely.

Eris seemed to recognize her theatrics for what they were, smirking into his goblet each time she did it like there was nothing funnier to him. Arina had half a mind to kick him—and she might have, too—had something warm not begun crawling up her throat.

She looked down at the bowl of potato soup in front of her, strangely fascinated as it warped from one porcelain bowl into two, to three, and back to a singular entity. The heat intensified, causing Arina to gasp for air. She didn’t know what possessed her, but she reached for Eris’s leg, digging her nails into the fabric of his trousers as she tried to get a grip on reality.

Something was wrong.

She couldn’t breathe.

Arina blinked, intending to take a slow, controlled breath of air and then excuse herself. When she opened her eyes, however, she found herself laying on the floor staring upward into a pair of disinterested amber eyes. The commotion around her seemed to suggest someone was concerned—her father, maybe?

But right then, all Arina could see was the icy, bored expression of her soon-to-be husband.

And she was certain this was all his fault.

ERIS:

“What do you expect me to do about this?” Eris demanded furiously, staring at his father. He needed to get his temper in check before Beron punished him and yet Eris couldn’t help his aggrieved feelings. “If she’s so desperate to escape this marriage, let her.”

“And pay her bastard father to run his kingdom into the ground for another fifty years?”

“Why would you ever add that to a marriage contract?” Eris heard himself asking, furious that Lucien’s little dalliance with one of the Archeron’s had led him to this position. Arina was probably perfectly nice—she was certainly beautiful—and he didn’t want her. Didn’t want any wife his father picked out for him and had done a good job running them off.

“I had seven worthless sons by then—all of whom would need wives. If not Lucien, someone else.”

“Then let Tanwen—”

“I’ll not hear another complaint from you,” Beron barked out, eyes flashing a warning. Eris forced himself to swallow his anger, to take a breath and let it go for the moment. It was clear his father wanted this to happen and his fathers will was an extension of his own.

“She’s alive,” Beron continued, as if Eris cared about that. It was cruel, but when Eris had seen her convulsing on the ground all he’d felt was relief. She’d die and he’d be free of her, along with the entire marriage he didn’t want. “I want to know who's responsible for this and I want them punished. Quietly.”

“Consider it done.”

“Check in on your mother. She’d distraught,” Beron added by way of dismissal.

Of course she would be. The mere words were enough to force some sympathy into Eris’s otherwise emotionless chest. Arina was merely a casualty in his fathers obsession with expansion. It should have been Lucien who arranged this deal, leaving Eris to ally with a princess who had, if nothing else, been born with the correct expectations. He’d been set on Nesta Archeron before Lucien went and mucked the whole thing up with the middle sister. Who knew Elain was her father’s favorite and he’d take it personally if a foreign born princess undressed his precious daughter?

Lucien had sworn he’d done nothing inappropriate but what was done was done. Lucien was getting a second born princess but nothing more—there would be no exchange of territory and a very loose agreement that constituted an alliance.

And Eris was getting some rural, minor lords daughter that someone hated enough to want dead. Find out who it was, it could have been anyone. The arrangement was not popular at court and Eris considered it could be any number of lords who felt their daughters had been snubbed for Arina.

Would his father execute one of his favored courtiers? All for one woman they’d made a bad deal with? Her father must be delighted, Eris thought, to realize what had once been a decent marriage would now elevate him into the father-in-law to a king. He’d be given titles and wealth far beyond what he currently already possessed.

Eris felt his feelings harden toward Arina again.

He found his mother in her private apartment, wringing her hands with tear stained cheeks. “Oh, Eris,” she breathed, wrongly assuming he must be upset over what he witnessed. Eris opened his arms to her all the same, pulling his crying mother against his chest. She cared, which made her far better than him in every measure that mattered. Too good for the Vanserra’s in general, though no one would dare say so.

“Is she alright?”

“I assume so,” Eris replied, earning himself a swat. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt nor was it malicious. His mother looked up at him with disappointment as Eris walled himself up to keep himself from internalizing her words.

“You haven’t gone to check?”

“I met her this afternoon and it didn’t go well,” he replied, following his mother to a little two seater couch facing the fireplace. “I think I can wait until tomorrow to offer my sympathies.”

“She seems like a nice girl,” his mother sniffed, dabbing her eyes on a handkerchief Eris had produced from his jacket pocket.

Nice wasn’t how he’d describe Arina. He had the sense she was more than the doe-eyed thing he’d witnessed at dinner, if her little snappish comments were anything to go on.

“Did you know father would have to subsidize her fathers territory if she didn’t marry into our family?” Eris asked, already knowing the answer. Of course she didn’t—Beron didn’t tell his wife anything.

“I know you’re upset about losing Nesta,” his mother began, misunderstanding what bothered Eris so much. Everyone kept assuming it was a love match between them rather than a practical understanding of the power they might wield together. Nesta had understood it, had even agreed right up until Lucien was caught with Elain. “But would it be so terrible to readjust your expectations, Eris?”

Yes, it would be. Without Nesta, Eris was still trapped under his fathers thumb and now responsible with keeping Arina from becoming trapped as well. There would be no money, no army, no powerful woman with a kingdom of her own to stand behind him should he fail. Just another powerless girl shoved at him and unlike the last one, Eris couldn’t send her back.

“Your projecting,” Eris replied. “You are nothing like her.”

“I remember how I felt when I was brought here. My own father was pretty quick to leave just as soon as our marriage license dried and I was on my own. You know how…busy…your father is. You could try to make her feel welcome.”

“You managed just fine,” Eris said, though as the words left his mouth he felt instant regret. His father was brutally cruel to his mother when the mood struck him, swinging between open devotion and clandestine violence seemingly on a whim. His mother had managed in spite of his father and he knew he’d just inadvertently told his mother none of it was a big deal. “I’ll talk to her.”

It was a compromise to wipe the look of hurt from his mothers face. She was the only woman Eris had ever loved and as far as he was concerned, the only woman he’d ever love. He wasn’t interested in caring for someone the way his father cared about his mother. It made him obsessive, controlling, and at times, violent. Eris didn’t want to lose himself that way and was terrified that it was in his nature to love someone that way. Not that he’d ever admit it—but it was useful information to know about himself.

Eris didn’t visit Arina until the next morning, busying himself at night with his favorite distraction: too much whiskey and Lady [whoever]. He wasn’t married yet, and Eris had never promised Arina anything, least of all his fidelity. Eris found her sitting in a window, knees hidden beneath a pale yellow dress.

Eris had seen a lot of women in his life. More women than most men if he was being honest with himself. Since he’d come of age, women had thrown themselves at him and he’d allowed it, delighting in the attention and the ease with which he could get someone into his bed. And in the course of his dallying, he’d seen countless noble women with their hair unbound.

And yet something happened when Arina turned her wan face to look at him. Her hair was long and thick, draped nearly to her waist as it fell in soft, brushed out waves. He might not have given it a second thought had she not turned her head just in that moment, allowing a rather bright beam of light illuminate the golden strands and warm her otherwise wan face.

Gods, but Arina was the most beautiful woman currently at court. Maybe in the world—Eris couldn’t remember seeing anyone more lovely even when they were as sad as she currently was. Eris found himself at a loss for words which Arina chose to interpret as mocking.

“Do you need something, prince?”

“I…”

She turned her head away from him, rolling her eyes as she did. That was enough to remind Eris that she was merely a woman and not one he particularly cared about. Sexual attraction would help, if nothing else. “You’re well?” he asked, grateful to hear the sneer had returned to his words.

“No thanks to you.”

Eris pushed off the door frame he’d been leaned again, stepping into the airy, soft room she’d been given. It was fit for a princess and he wondered how it compared to her rooms back home. He’d heard stories that the estate was dilapidated, its staffing sparse. What it had was a good defensive position given its rocky landscape and the river that choked off other invasion points, forcing any army coming over land to take one specific path forward which made it easily picked off.

Or, so his father said. Eris had never seen it, had never had any desire to. He’d been offered, but back then Arina was Lucien’s fiance and Eris had opted not to join in favor of remaining at home. What a waste given his current circumstances. Eris would have liked to have known exactly how to lord his wealth and power over his new wife, if only to keep her from snapping at him.

“Did you imagine me a physician?” Eris asked with some amusement.

“I imagined you as someone with manners,” Arina shot back, drawing her knees closer to her chest. “Not the sort of coward who would delight in watching his betrothed die before his very eyes.”

“What did you say?” he asked, more taken aback than angry. No one had ever spoken to him that way.

She didn’t even look at him. “I said you’re a coward and you were hoping I’d die. And I didn’t say this next part, but I don’t want to be married to you, either. I’ve heard stories about you.”

Eris’s heart thudded in his chest. “What kind of stories?”

“How you left a woman to die in your forest rather than marry her. That you’re capable of that kind of cruelty.”

Ah, Morrigan. How he’d never live that accusation down. Eris hadn’t bothered to try and had no intention of explaining the circumstances to Arina given what she was covertly accusing him of. She thought he’d tried to kill her?

Eris wanted to put that accusation to rest. “If I wanted you dead, princess, you’d be dead.”

He watched her press her lips together, saw how those mossy green eyes hardened with hatred. His mother was going to kill him the moment she got Arina alone and learned about this.

“Then you should know if I wanted you dead, you would be dead.”

She shrugged her slim shoulders. “It sounds to me like you aren’t particularly skilled in that arena.”

“Are you daring me?” Eris asked incredulously.

“Merely making an observation,” she replied, turning to look at him again. Eris found he preferred when she didn’t given how beautiful her face was and how stupid it made him. If she’d just pull her hair up, Eris could treat her like every other entitled noblewoman—just like he had yesterday.

Though, had he really looked at her? Eris had been drunk for most of the day. Maybe he simply hadn’t noticed what was now staring back at him. His wife was beautiful and the part of him that coveted such things liked that.

Not wife. Almost wife.

“I came to see how you were doing,” Eris snapped, irritated with her and himself.

“Your father came last night,” Arina replied, some of the spark leaving her eyes.

“My father?” he asked, eyes scanning her form quickly.

“To offer a sincere apology for the attack,” she said, hands twisting nervously in her lap. “And assure me you’d get to the bottom of it.”

“And I will,” Eris lied. For all he knew she’d merely had an allergic reaction to some new ingredient or the poison had been meant for him and not her. Eris very much doubted someone would be foolish enough to try again.

“Yet here you are,” she dismissed, turning back to the window. Eris curled his fingers into fists to resist the urge to throttle her into obedience. His father had assured him Arina was the model of female piety, not the sharp-tongued creature he was currently looking at.

“People clamor for my company at court, you know,” Eris said, unsure why he was bothering.

She smothered a smile. “Go bother them, then.”

“Maybe I will,” he bit back, annoyed.

“Good.”

“Fine.”

Arina merely waved him off, leaving Eris outraged as he stomped out of her room. He had half a mind to go complain to her father, if only to bring Arina into line. And then what, he wondered? Would she like him more or would it make her hate him more than she already did? Eris considered if he cared for just a moment.

And decided that he did care.

And he’d take her as she was.

#eris vanserra #the smut doesnt happen until chapter 4 #i am showing so much restraint

122 notes · View notes

nuttersinc · 6 months

Text

So, thoughts on a five days Captive Prince marathon reading:

The writing: I hadn't picked this up because I'm not that much into slave fic, but I read some quotes last week and thought: this sounds so good and the writing is brilliant... Let's have a look. Hooked after 1 page, I think. The writing is masterful. Both lush and sparse, light and dense. Achingly beautiful, then simplistic.

What's it about: Starts out like slave fic - Prince gets sold into slavery to the enemy court to serve as bedslave to the enemy Prince - but veers off into a highly convoluted political conspiracy with a million twists and turns. Keeps you entertained until the suspenseful end.

Damen, our hero and POV: at first you think he's a himbo - broad shouldered, strong and tall, very physical with an animal intelligence about him, but if Laurent wasn't there to be the cleverest person in the room, he would be. Strong sense of duty and loyalty and what is right (in his society's limitations), fiercely protective. Tends to mindlessly shed blood if someone he cares about is threatened.

Laurent, the enemy Prince, whose uncle is regent: Laurent is cruel and seems cold hearted. He's a manipulative bitch, and he's always - with one notable acception - the most clever and cunning person in the room. He's a survivor and he does everything it takes. He's usually a step ahead of everyone, planning for contingencies. He's also sassy and talks like he was raised in a brothel, even though he takes noone to his bed. Contrary to Damen who is a fighter with honour, Laurent fights dirty. He's a perfect parcel of deadly and cute.

Some things that I had massive feels about: (Spoilers ahead!!!!)

* the reveal that Laurent knew he was Damianos all along. I squealed. (I mean, he nearly had him flogged to death, and at some point early you realise that Laurent is usually cruel with intention, not with sadism)

* their little adventure in the inn: their roles reversed, Laurent as the pleasure slave, Laurent's helpless giggling as they are pressed up against each other on the balcony, nearly detected, Damen overwhelmed and confused by Laurent's body shaking against him

* all the times Damen stayed, after he realised what was really going on in Vere

* Jokaste and Laurent trying to out bitch each other and being severely unpleasant towards each other

* the renowned veretian cloth merchant imposter thing - fucking hilarious.

* Laurent appointing Damen his captain

* Damen making sure nobody disturbs Laurent when he's in a mood

*Damen being a bitch about being interrupted kissing Laurent, even as they take him away

* Laurent, all hot and bothered, when Damen returns victorious from naked oil wrestling

* Damen, all hot and bothered, when he sees Laurent in a chiton for the first time

* Laurent's smile the morning after

* Damen's smile the morning after Laurent drinks to win over Makedon...

* all the fights and all the softness. Their camraderie 😥😁😍

* so much more, will add later...

#captive prince #laurent of vere #damianos of akielos

87 notes · View notes

fayes-fics · 1 year

Text

Innocence Pt V

Innocence series masterpost

PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict teaches his new wife how to ride (not horses).

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, sex education, dirty talk, slight exhibitionism, vaginal sex, woman on top, a smidge of food play.

Word Count: 3.2 k

Author’s Note: Sorry it's taken a while to get this next installment up. Thanks to @makaylan for the read through. I hope you enjoy <3

You wake up to a strange sensation. Something warm and soft on the swell of your bottom as you lay face down. It feels like… lips? …Kissing?

You blink open your eyes and crane your head over your shoulder. There is your new husband of fewer than twelve hours. And yes, indeed, he is kissing your bare bottom, the sheet pulled back around your calves, warmed by a fire already roaring in your martial bedroom.

“Benedict?” you call softly, your voice laden with sleep.

He stops his actions and tilts his head to look up at you, his hazy hooded eyes so beguiling.

“Good morning, wife,” his tone is husky and pitched low; it makes a tiny shiver run down your spine.

“What are you doing back there?” you question lightheartedly.

“I am enjoying my wife’s bottom. Does she have a problem with that?” he teases, his teeth snagging on your left buttock as he lightly slaps your other cheek.

You squeal and squirm on the mattress. “No,” you admit.

He chuckles, then pushes up onto all fours clambering over you until his lips capture yours, turning your body slightly to meet him.

“How do you feel today?” he asks, nuzzling your cheek.

“Mmm, wonderful,” you confess, twisting under him so you face up.

Today you do feel different. Like you are finally a woman. You are married now, and while you doubtlessly have many things to learn, you feel nothing but excitement and wonder about what else may come. It makes you feel emboldened, flirtatious, and ready to enjoy new adventures with this wondrous man who is now your husband.

He settles over you, and you moan slightly at the press of his hot rigid cock between your bare thighs.

“Are you ready to learn more things, or does the lady need breakfast first?” he inquires airily, planting kisses on your jaw.

The mere mention of the word breakfast has your stomach growling loudly, and he giggles at the sound. You barely had a chance to eat at the whirlwind that was your wedding reception; you were also a little too excited for your wedding night to bother.

“Well, I think we have our answer,” he sniggers. “Luckily, I asked my staff to return early this morning.”

“Can we have breakfast in bed, husband?” you ask; that newfound boldness reveals itself in asking for what you want, “together, naked?”

His eyes flash appreciatively, and his lopsided grin turns deadly. “I definitely married so very, very well,” he growls, echoing his sentiment from the previous night, reaching over to ring a bell on his bedside table.

He is back on you, kissing a hot line down your neck, when there is a brief knock on the door a few moments later.

“Come in,” Benedict calls out, barely lifting his lips from your collarbone.

You squeak as an older man appears in the doorway; he blanches at first, taken aback but quickly schools his face to one of passive indifference. You attempt to grab the sheet and cover yourself to preserve some modesty. Still, Benedict seems utterly unphased by the gentleman seeing him or, indeed, you, completely naked, entwined in bed together.

“Ahh, Mr Smith. Good morning. Please, can you bring breakfast here for myself and my delectable new wife? Something light but filling, toast perhaps?” he asks casually, twisting to look at the man.

“Certainly, sir, will that be all?” the polite voice rings out.

“Could you throw another log on the fire? I fear I did not set it up well earlier.”

The man bustles to the fireplace as Benedict’s lips close around your nipple.

“Benedict!” you admonish, your body flexing against him on instinct despite your consternation. “Your valet is right there!” you hiss through clenched teeth, nodding at the back of the man re-stoking the fire.

“Oh my love, we are newlyweds; I fully expect our staff to walk in on us fucking all over the house,” he drawls, running his nose over your pebbled nub, “as I suspect, do they. You should not feel ashamed.”

“But…” your protest dies as he surges up and catches your lips in a deep kiss, his fingers teasing that same damp nipple as he does so. You can't help the moan into his mouth as he does it.

“Yes darling, that's it,” he gloats, “in fact, I hope they will still be finding us doing this in forty years,” he smiles against your lips. “I plan to fuck you every day that I can,” he hums as you hear the door to the room click quietly closed with his valet’s departure.

“You are a menace,” you assert, lightly slapping his shoulder in rebuke.

“I’m your menace now, Mrs Bridgerton,” he teases, grabbing your hands and pushing them onto the pillow, glancing pointedly at your wedding rings, “and there is absolutely nothing you can do about that. You, I'm afraid, are stuck with me,” he chuckles, lips once again attacking your neck. You sigh in faux annoyance, settling into his sensual assault, your eyes closing from sheer pleasure.

A few moments later, as you are still exchanging endless sensuous kisses, there is a knock at the door, and Mr Smith re-enters with a tray of food under silver cloches.

“Excellent,” Benedict exclaims gleefully. “Please leave it on the ottoman at the end of the bed there, Smith.”

His valet does as bidden, and with a brief nod of “Sir, my Lady,” which makes your cheeks redden, he departs.

“Oh god, I’ll never get used to being the lady of the house,” you exclaim.

“You had better, my darling; all the staff will be looking to you for how you wish the house to be run,” Benedict laughs as he crawls down the bed and picks up a cloche.

“It's your house, Benedict,” you frown.

“Not anymore, my love,” he reminds, a warm hand encircling your ankle and tugging gently. “Now get down here and eat some of this food—I need you energised for what comes next.”

As elegantly as you can, you spin around and join Benedict at the foot of the bed. He pulls you flush to his body and feeds you a corner of deliciously buttered, still-warm toast.

“What comes next?” you ask brightly after you chew and swallow the bite.

“You, my darling, are going to learn to ride,” he smirks. “Me, that is.”

“Oh.. is it like riding a horse?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He snorts. “I hope you find it rather more pleasurable. And there is something to keep you mounted nice and squarely,” he leers, pressing his cock to your hip as you shake your head at his innuendo, even as a bemused smile tugs at your lips.

“Do I get a whip to keep you in line, just like a real jockey?” you quip in jest, again that new sense of being a wife and a woman making you say things you never thought you might.

His mouth falls open slightly, and his eyes have an appreciative gleam. “Oh darling, do you want there to be?” his voice dropping to a smokey rumble.

“Depends on if you are going to behave, my good stallion,” you murmur, loving the banter, raising an eyebrow as you take a triangle of toast for yourself.

“What happened to my innocent little thing?” he counters, a warm hand caressing your bottom, “and who is this delightful minx who replaced her?”

“You corrupted her with your wiles Mr Bridgerton,” you volley back, tossing your hair in a way you hope is coquettish. “A good teacher cannot complain when an eager pupil advances under tutelage.”

“I am a good teacher, am I?” he purrs, the hand stroking lazily over your lower spine.

“The very best,” your flattery sincere, “one day, this student wants to learn to talk as her teacher does. Such wonderful filthy things.”

“Well then, that can be your next lesson,” he suggests, nuzzling your hair.

“Excellent,” you enthuse. “Now, am I going to eat that jam there on toast… or from somewhere on your body, dear husband?” you tease, pointing to a pot of preserves.

He groans and grabs you. “You cannot say things like that,” rolling you on top of him, “and expect me to do anything but want to be inside you.”

“You are the one who said we needed to eat,” you giggle, reaching for another bit of toast and jamming it into his mouth rather inelegantly as you lay atop him, his warm skin delightful under your own, his cock persistent, branding against your belly.

He guffaws around the slice and rips it with his teeth, pushing some between your lips. “I can eat and be inside you at the same time, my love,” he utters in a sinful tone.

“Well, then do it,” you challenge, swallowing your bite of food.

He raises an eyebrow and shuffles under you, surging his hips upwards, his rigid cock sliding between your thighs. “I will,” he threatens playfully.

“Please do,” your whisper enchanted, licking an errant toast crumb from your lip.

“Oh, I was going to get that,” he pouts.

With a raised eyebrow, you reach for a spoonful of jam, and he watches as you smear some over your lips.

“Then come and get it, Mr Bridgerton,” you murmur, looking down into his rapidly dilating eyes.

“Oh, Mrs Bridgerton,” he rumbles, his lips chasing yours, his tongue lathing over your lips, sucking and gathering all the jam there, swirling its sweetness into your joined mouth as you kiss. Then you cry into his mouth as he effortlessly thrusts his hips, surging into your body. He feels just as he did last night, so huge and invasive. You stutter a breath as he just holds you there, allowing you to adjust to the feeling of him inside you again.

“Benedict…” you sigh, some of your bravado slipping away with the pure tide of sensation you feel being so viscerally invaded.

“Are you ready, my darling,” he questions, his voice velvet and decadent. “Try sitting up on me,” he adds, his hands grabbing yours to offer leverage.

With him still feeling heavy and so large inside, you slowly slide your knees on either side of his thighs, then draw them up so they are close to his waist, moaning as the sensation of being hunched over him changes the angle of his cock, a pull that is utterly delicious.

“Yes, that's it,” he encourages, “now pull up off me.”

You unfurl your body and sit upright; again, the tug of his cock inside feels almost painfully good, and your clit brushes over his public hair, the tickle so rousing.

“Oh wow,” you gasp, gyrating slightly to feel how good it feels to be speared onto his cock, but you have complete control over the motions.

“You like it, my love?” He knows the answer.

“You feel huge,” you answer honestly, and he groans at the compliment.

“Now try moving, my darling,” he urges. “Push up with your thighs and then sink back down,” he tutors, his hands guiding yours onto his torso as he moves to grasp your hips.

You push up and feel the drag of his cock along your walls, and it feels exhilarating. Then you sink back down, and your eyes go wide, and your lips fall open with a loud moan. It feels exquisite. Something about the angle and the way your swollen clit snags against his body as you rock down is so compelling and powerful.

“Oh my god,” you curl your fingers and scratch along his abs as you rotate your hips just a touch, “this is wondrous.”

He smiles a devastating grin, “I knew you would like it,” he preens. “Now giddyup my love, ride me,” he dares you, and something wild and fiery cracks open in your chest, a smouldering heat that burns. You want to ride his cock until you are both screaming.

Pushing up and sinking, you establish a steady rhythm that works for you, encouraged by his little noises and grip on your hips. He feels divine sliding in and out of you, just the ache you want to feel. Like last night, but somehow better, somehow familiar now. You experiment with pace, enjoying a lingering slow downstroke and a quicker snap-up.

“You are enjoying this, aren't you?” he murmurs, impressed.

“Yessss,” you chant, head thrown back and eyes closed now. His body feels searing between your thighs, under your fingertips and deep inside you.

You lean back a little and move your hands to his thighs, grasping the strong muscle there and open your eyes to look down at him, his mouth slack, his eyes laser focussed on you, on your face and darting down to your breasts as they jiggle with every drop. You lean further back and emit a huge groan as somehow you have found a spot that feels so good; little sparks go off in your head like fireworks. You start to move harder, faster, greedy, so greedy, for more.

“So… fucking… good,” you rasp a word with each downstroke as his fingers band tighter over your hipbones, your knees chafing the bedding, dropping without thought for anything but the feeling coiling tighter and tighter in your gut.

You grab one of his hands and press it to your breast, leaning forward into his hold and changing the angle of your hips, making circular motions, shuddering as he seems to nudge every spot inside as you grind down, selfishly stalking your pleasure.

“My wanton little wife, look at you,” his voice velvety, clever fingers tweaking your nipples as you groan loudly.

His body flexes delightfully under you as he reaches behind for the pot of jam, dipping his fingers in and reaching to paint a swirl over your breasts. Without breaking your rhythm, you place a firm hand on his chest and halt his hand. He frowns until you seize his jam-covered fingers and instead bring them to your mouth, lasciviously licking them clean as you rise and fall, lathing the warm, sweet, sticky pads of his fingers over your tongue in time with your movements. The noise he makes is inhuman, and you feel a surge of power through your body as he pushes up into you, desperate for more. You just smirk at him and press him harder into the mattress, allowing his hand to drop away from your mouth.

The power of this position, to have him so vulnerable under you, is a potent toxin, your thighs burning from the exertion, your blood simmering as you spider a hand up the now-damp centre line of his breastbone and grasp his chin between your thumb and fingers.

“Are you enjoying this, husband?” you tease breathily.

His response is a nod and low growl; you love how riled up he is. Shuffling your knees wider, you lean over him, the warmth of his belly rubbing yours as you keep fucking onto his cock, slower now, your lips ghosting over his, still holding his chin tight.

“Tell me in detail, darling,” with a triumphant arched eyebrow; you echo the words he used the first night he stole into your room.

Awe and surprise are written across his features, pupils blown wide, mouth opening a fraction.

“I am a good teacher,” he gusts out, and you just twist your mouth into a smirk, awaiting his answer. He licks his lips, and you feel the hot breath from it, his hands sliding over your bottom. “I want you to fuck me hard, wife,” he begins. “Ride me until your body is shaking and screaming. Make yourself come on my cock, milk me, darling,” that silken tone makes a shiver race down your spine and your cunt clench around him.

He grunts at your vice-like pulse, and the need to follow his advice vibrates your very being. You kiss him hungrily, moaning into his mouth as your tongues dance, your hand curling his jaw as you kiss over and over, still rocking gently on him, unable to stop. Sitting up again, grasping his hands in yours, lacing your fingers, you rise and fall in a new quick pattern, starting to pant and fuck yourself roughly. He moans through gritted teeth at your new onslaught.

One of his hands guides yours down your body to the apex of your thighs, where you are roughly fucking onto him. Without words, you know what he is suggesting, and when your joined fingers slide against your clit, you feel hurtling straight towards oblivion, wound so tight.

A strong pulse runs up your spine, causing you to buck hard over him. He surges up strongly into you, meeting you on your downward thrust, fucking himself so deep it feels like a new ache tugging a line inside, something making you mindless, crushing your fingers between your bodies as they furiously circle your throbbing clit.

“Don't stop,” he chants as you close your eyes and ride so fiercely the bed squeaks slightly. He groans loudly and stares up at you desperately, a bead of sweat forming on his brow that you ache to lick off.

Then with a scream that feels like it rips your lungs, you convulse around him, slumping deep, your thighs trembling, blood rushing in your ears, vibrations coursing through your body from a tingle in your scalp to spasms in your toes.

He calls your name and curses long and low as his fingers sink into the meat of your thighs, and as you flutter around him, you feel that same bloom inside, his warm release coating your walls.

You collapse on top of him, exertion and satisfaction making your muscles feel languid and weak. Your head rests on his collarbone as his hands release their grip and sweep gently over your back, mapping the notches of your spine as you recover with deep, ragged breaths.

“Well done, darling,” his voice sounds wrecked and scratchy, his thighs twitching under yours as little aftershocks spasm through your frame. You feel him soften inside your body but don't want to move, and he seems reluctant, too, his arms holding you down onto him in a tight embrace. “I don't want to leave your body,” he admits in a whisper, “that was too good.”

You chuckle, feeling a lightness spread through your body, a mellow fizz under your skin. “Mmmm, then don't, husband,” you buzz quietly. “Just stay inside me until we are ready to go again.”

He laughs softly into your hair, kissing your scalp. “That may be a while, my love,” he confides.

“I have all the time in the world, husband,” you smile, twisting to look at him, landing a kiss on his stubbly jaw.

“Hmm, that is very true,” he concurs, his eyes sparkling with tender mischief as he holds your gaze. “After all, this is only the morning of day one of our honeymoon. There are another nine to go; just imagine all the things we shall get up to,” he murmurs, his tone laced with sensual promise as his fingers trace up your back.

You can hardly wait.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader

807 notes · View notes

lokisprettygirl · 1 year

Text

Under his influence (Post Avengers! Loki x female reader)

Read chapter 9 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 10

Summary : Loki Meets Mrs. Geller, Things are heating up between you and him.

Warning: mention of psychological torture, angst, insecurities, self deprecating behaviour, Melissa, some much needed steam , 4k words

Note : This is the mandatory fun fluffy steamy chapter of the series (Gif is how i picture him on the bed)

"You have my phone number right?" You mumbled softly so he nodded,

"I have memorized it"

"Recite for me"

He looked at you for a moment before he proceeded to recite the number, however just to be safe you did write it on a note and shoved it in his pants pocket. This morning you woke up in his arms thanking all your stars that last night wasn't just a heavenly dream. He had to leave soon so you were enjoying most of the time you had with him, by enjoying you meant you couldn't stop kissing him.

"Give me those bird like kisses" he mumbled so you pulled away and looked at him.

"Whaaaat?" You giggled so he cupped your cheeks, placed his lips on yours and pecked you again and again until you got the point.

"You like that I see" you mumbled so he nodded, then you did the same to him until he was all giggly. God you wanted to keep him in your pocket

"Okay before you leave I want you to meet Mrs Geller" you told him so he stood up from the sofa with you in his arms.

"God sometimes I forget all about the inhuman strength" you placed your legs down but he still had his hands around your waist, holding you in the air as if you weighed nothing, you looked down at his forearms, the rolled up sleeves made him look hotter somehow, he was wearing the white shirt from last night with a pair of formal black pants.

"Mmhm you enjoy that?"

"Ohh yeah, I like the idea of you being so strong, knowing that you can just fold me in half like a log of wood with a snap of your fingers is super sexy" you whispered in his ear and his cheeks went red again. He needed his erection controlling charm. Now he had filthy images in his head about bending you over in several ways and taking you like that. Erection control charm Stat.

"Well I would never fold you in any way that would make you feel anything but delighted" it was your turn to get bashful. He was cute and sexy, the deadliest combination.

"You know what else I find sexy?" You whispered as you planted your lips on the soft skin of his neck.

"That even though you're such a strong deadly powerful man, I am the safest when I'm with you" he hummed as you said that, a smile appeared on his face. He'd always keep you safe.

Before things could get dirty, you grabbed his arm and took him with you to meet Mrs. Geller.

"I love this dress on you princess"

"You know I dressed up for you right, I mean you have seen me in my natural habitat" he chuckled as you said that.

"I have. You resemble a dainty little wild creature in your natural habitat" you gasped at the comment before you hit on his chest with your fist playfully "Especially when you hair is all matted and uncombed you look like a bear cub"

"Staaapp I'll kick your ass" you chuckled

You knocked on Mrs Geller's door and as soon as she opened it she couldn't take her eyes off him. You didn't blame her though.

"Can we come inside?" You asked her

"Of Course my dear, come come" she mumbled hurriedly so you took him in and he looked around, her apartment was similar to yours.

"Ahhh sit down please" she looked up at him so he smiled and sat down on her couch. She was even shorter than you and he didn't want her to strain her neck just to have a conversation with him.

"Mrs Geller first of all I just wanted to thank you for the last night and secondly this is Loki as you must know"

"Hello Mrs Geller" he mumbled politely so she smiled

"I am soooo confused" she let out a nervous laughter

"I know you see..you know how he escaped with the tesseract and ended up in an apartment?"

"Yes I follow Melissa McKay on Instagram, she just posted this photo.. see" she said excitedly as she showed you a picture on her Android phone and you controlled the urge to roll your eyes. People were deeply invested in this fake couple.

"Uhhh yeah about that, you see when he escaped he didn't end up in her apartment, he ended up in mine, he has been living with me for more than two months before Thor, his brother found him and took him back. Remember when Thor came to Minnesota a month ago? He wasn't just on vacation, he came for Loki" You spoke as fast as you could and her eyes widened in shock, she took a step back and stared at him, he was just looking at her with that typical confused puppy look on his face.

"Oh wow. I knew you were hiding a boy in there because I heard voices…but woww" she gulped as she finished her sentence "But what is this thing with Melissa then?"

"It's all lies, trust me I had no clue of such a thing before the press conference, i never wanted to hurt y/n like that" Loki answered her and she nodded.

"Okay let me make you both a cup of coffee" she offered but you told her that he had to leave soon.

"So what does this mean, are you seeing him?" She took you aside and questioned you,

"It's umm..we are friends "

"Best friends " he chimed in so you smiled.

"Sharp hearing " you told Mrs Geller and her eyes widened even more.

"I just know that he's someone very important to me and I don't want to lose him. Againn" you told her as sincerely as you could, you wanted her to understand that he wasn't just some guy you were seeing.

"Oh he's the one isn't he, the guy you couldn't get over" she said it as a matter of fact.

"Yes"

"Yeah I don't blame you"

You smiled and his face flushed, he was easily embarassed and you had planned to have so much fun with that knowledge.

"Ummm so can you please promise to keep this with you for now, i don't want my mom to know about all of this, I'm not ready to deal with her just now" you requested her so she hugged you and promised you that she won't share anything with your mother. You hoped she'd be able to keep that promise because she loved gossiping and you weren't ready to deal with your mother's opinion about this just yet.

She sat down next to Loki and asked him different things as if she was testing him whether he actually cared about you or not. He learned that it was her birthday tomorrow so he conjured a fluffy sweater for her as a present, it was something he had made for Frigga but never got the chance to give her.

"You can knit?" You asked him as you brought him back to your apartment

"It was just a phase where i enjoyed knitting, i have grown out of it" you cupped his cheeks and kissed him as he said that.

"You're so cute"

He smiled and kissed you back but then you suddenly pulled away from him,

"Wait i have to see this picture your fake girlfriend posted again" you grabbed your phone from the kitchen counter but he tried to snatch it away.

"You need to do no such thing darling"

"Ohhh but I do" you swiftly walked away from him to get away but he followed you,

"Why?" He asked you so you shrugged, he tried to snatch it away from you again so you ran towards your bed and unfortunately you didn't have much space to run around in your apartment, he picked you up and laid you down on the bed, you placed your hands up so he won't be able to grab the phone but your attempts were futile, he pinned both of your hands with one hand and used the other one to grab your phone then it disappeared. Damn super strength and magicky stuff.

"I don't want you to hurt yourself like that, you hear me?" you bit on your lip at his sharp commanding tone.

"Mmmhmm" you hummed in response

"She means nothing to me'

"And I do" that wasn't a question but a statement, you knew he cared about you, if he didn't he never would have come back for you. And he definitely wouldn't have been there on top of you at the moment.

"You do, only you do" he whispered as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

He couldn't stop staring at your lips so he lowered down and kissed you, he didn't let go of your hands and kept them pinned over your head while his other arm grabbed your thigh and he curled it around his waist one by one.

This definitely was the most sexual kiss you have had with him until now, or with anyone really, your body felt warm, weak and tingly all over, you just wanted him to keep going and do whatever he wanted to do with you, however a knock on your window made you gasp in his mouth. You craned your neck up and so did he to look at the window, Thor was standing on the other side with a huge smirk on his face

Loki immediately let go of you and then he helped you off the bed like the gentleman that he was. How come he wasn't aroused by that kiss? You felt it deep in your soul but when you had your legs around him you felt nothing, no bulge. Nothing.

"Okay give me my phone or we won't be able to talk" you placed your palm forward so he conjured your phone and gave it back to you. You wanted to kiss him but you could feel Thor's eyes on you both so you looked at him and he turned around, he made sure that you both saw him rolling his eyes.

"Okay call me whenever you can..I'll miss you" you mumbled as you kissed him, your eyes were teary and they made him sad too. He wished he could have taken you with him or better he wished he could have stayed here but it wasn't possible. He was on a probation, if he was to fuck up again he'd be sent back to Asgard and he didn't want to go so far away from you at any cost.

"I will ring you tonight only i promise" you smiled as he said that before your arms curled around his neck so you could hug him tightly, once you had your fill, you walked him towards the window and he somehow stepped out even though the window was too small for his large frame.

"Ummm hiiii and thank you for your help" you said to Thor and raised your hand forward so he shook it gently.

"My pleasure lady y/n" you smiled at him before you diverted your attention back to loki.

"Take care okay? And eat and miss me" you told him as you fixed the collar of his shirt and it made him smile. Norns he found you all kinds of precious.

"You do that too please, no more skipping meals" he mumbled softly so you nodded.

When he left you sat down on your bed, you needed a moment, everything felt so good when he was there but as soon as he was gone you felt gloomy again. Oh the rush of the new love, well technically this was your first love since you have never actually been in this sort of love before.

You picked up your phone and despite his resistance you couldn't help but stalk Melissa again, she had posted a picture with him where he was looking at the camera, a small smile on his face while she was looking at him like a love sick school girl. Now you knew why his eyes seemed that way, he was sad and miserable. She had tagged a profile so you opened it and it belonged to Loki but you didn't think he was the actual owner of the account, he probably didn't even know about it.

He already had like 200k followers and that shocked you.

As Thor and Loki reached the tower, loki used the invisibility charm to disappear, when Tony spotted Thor he stormed towards him.

"Where is that reckless brother of yours?" He asked Thor, even though Loki was right next to him Tony obviously couldn't see him, Loki took off his shoes and started to tiptoe around Tony so he could get away without being noticed.

"How would I know I just returned from my morning stroll? What a beautiful morning in midgard today" he smiled widely.

"Well he missed the training sesh with Cap, you know he can't leave the tower without permission right?"

"Did you even check his chamber thoroughly?" Thor asked him, hoping that Loki was back to his room by now.

"I knocked ..he didn't open up"

"Norns, he must have consumed buckets of midgardian liquor at the celebration last night" Both Thor and Tony walked towards Loki's room together and knocked loudly, a moment later Loki opened the door, looking half asleep and hungover out of his mind.

"You really need to set an alarm" Tony told him before he walked away, as soon as he was out of sight Loki waved his fingers and he was back to looking his perfect self.

"We have to be more careful than this, you can not be out this late in the morning" Thor said as he huffed

"I am being treated like a prisoner"

"You are a prisoner" Loki rolled his eyes and shut the door on Thor's face. After an hour he stepped out of his room in order to not make them more suspicious of him. He wanted to call you and hear your sweet voice but you must have been at your workplace already and he didn't want to bother you or distract you.

He was trying to find something to eat in the kitchen but as soon as he spotted Melissa his appetite died.

He didn't say anything but she kept walking towards him and then she hugged him.

"I'm sorry about my behavior last night..i was drunk" she smiled so he pulled her away.

"That is fine, just, do not embrace me without my permission" he told her as he pushed her away by holding onto her shoulders.

"Honestly, what is your problem?" She asked him as she crossed her arms. Sometimes she scared him but not in a good way.

"Where should I begin?" She glared at him at the sarcastic response.

"I'm just trying to be your friend here Loki"

Okay now he was actually upset by her. She was starting to take the fake relationship too seriously, he already had a friend, he didn't need more and especially not the ones who he knew just wanted to hurt him and use him for their own benefit.

"You don't want to be my friend, you want to be my concubine so let us not even play pretend here"

She got upset by his words and stormed out of there, why didn't he want her? She was attractive, several guys would have killed to be with someone like her.

In the evening Loki was being interviewed along with Melissa so you sat down on the couch with a glum look on your face. You hated seeing him with her,

"So Melissa tell me about the moment when you knew he was the one" You saw her blushing at the question, she was sitting so close to him and only you could tell how uncomfortable he was.

"That would be the moment when he kissed me for the first time, the moment we kissed I just felt this chemistry between us, this scorching heat and it was the most amazing thing in the world" No not the heat, the heat was yours. How much did he tell her about you? You felt a little upset but the thought of him talking about you made you feel warm immediately. He talked about you when he didn't know of her intentions, he had a gorgeous woman in front of him but he was only interested in talking about you.

"Fuckkk yeahh" you let out a noise of excitement. If your exes knew who you were seeing they would seethe and burn, nobody wants their exes to date someone better than them, and you were literally being blessed by a real god.

"Loki what was your first thought when you met her, I am sure it must have been terrifying especially since it was right after the chitauri attack and she must have been scared by your presence"

Well you were scared out of your mind at first but then he won you over with his calming personality.

Loki placed his fingers on his lips, a smile appeared on his lips as he thought about you, he didn't even look at Melissa before he answered.

"I often think about that and I wonder why I was taken there, the tesseract could have sent me anywhere in the universe but somehow It took me to that tiny little apartment in mi..New York City" he corrected himself immediately before he continued to speak "That space belonged to such a sweet precious angel and it is fearsome when I think of it now because a miniscule amount of deviation in time, even just a mere fraction of second could have diverted my destination but it knew, the tesseract knew, i suppose I ended up in the right place at the right time" his eyes glittered as he spoke and yours teared up. The studio audience cooed at his response so Melissa kissed his cheek.

"He wasn't talking about you dumbass" you groaned as you muttered to yourself.

At night you laid down on the bed with your phone stuck to your chest, you were waiting for his phone call desperately, you missed him already and it was killing you. As soon as your phone rang you picked it up,

"I thought you wouldn't call at all tonight"

"What?" You heard your mother's voice and your eyes widened, probably should have checked the number, you were glad you didn't say his name.

"Ummm hey mom you know i wanted to talk about the party, Mrs Geller invited you right?" You gulped.

"Yes, I'll just stay with you tomorrow night, David won't be able to join me" she mumbled so you hummed in response, you just hoped Mrs Geller wouldn't tell your mom anything about Loki. As she hung up you took a deep breath but your heard your phone ringing again so you picked it up, maybe she forgot to criticize you for something and remembered just now

"Yes mommmm" you heard him chuckling on the other side and your face flushed.

"Darling, I know your mother can be overbearing but replacing her with me is hardly the solution" he said to you so you chuckled in response

"I'm sorry I was just talking to her, i thought you wouldn't call tonight"

"Oh I promised, didn't i? I just got back to my chamber"

"Chamber huh"

"Rooooooom..happy? Is that better"

"Uh Huh"

"I have missed you princess"

"I have missed you more"

"Well that can be argued"

"I will win"

"Perhaps you will lose"

"Yeah how?"

He paused for a moment before he spoke again.

"Ohhh. Did you see me on the television today?"

"I might have"

"Well then I am afraid you have lost already"

"How come?" You giggled and it made him smile.

"Because you got to see me and you heard me speaking but I went all day long with just memories of you in my head" you bit on your cheek as he said that. Smooth fucker

"Okay I'll let you win this time"

"Thank you, I truly wish I was there darling "

"I know..me too. Good thing I stole your suit jacket last night"

"You devious woman, I need to learn this game, are you wearing it?"

"Mmmhmmm I am" your voice turned sultry and it made his breath hitch in his chest.

"Ohh norns "

"And I'm wearing nothing underneath" you mumbled and then you heard the sound of his telephone hitting the floor, his mouth opened wide as he pictured you on that tiny bed, with you wearing nothing but just his jacket.

"Lokiiiiiiiiiiiiiii" you whispered his name so he came back to reality.

"I am here, you have painted a sensuous picture for me"

"Mmmhmmm i didn't know this was going to be that type of phone call" his cock went hard as he heard your flirtatious voice, fortunately he didn't have to fix it with the charm this time, he can be as hard as he wanted and he could also touch himself.

"It doesn't have to be sweetheart"

"Goddddd you're cuteeee" you giggled and it made him smile. Your comfort came first always.

"Lokiii"

"Mhhhm"

"How do you look right now? Do you have clothes on?" He gulped again, how come a mortal made him so nervous?

"Just a trouser"

"That's nice, that's how I was picturing you anyways" your voice almost came out in whispers and he placed his free palm on his bulge to calm himself down. His mouth opened and eyes closed as he couldn't help but think of your half naked body underneath him.

"Can I ask you a dirty question?" You smiled as he said that.

"Mmmmhmmm go ahead"

"The jacket, are they buttoned all the way up or you left them unlatched, if I was to look at you right now would I see your bare skin?" He questioned softly and it almost threatened a moan to escape from your throat, the man you fancied and lusted after was thinking of you in such a way, it made you squeeze your thighs involuntarily.

"I left them all open lo"

"Norns darling you're killing me" his sexy husky voice melted in your ear and you pictured him right next to you

"And it smells like you lo, i smell like you, it's like you're right here holding me, whispering in my ear" you bit on your lips as you finished your sentence. His hand rubbed over his clothed bulge and then he realised something.

"Darling?"

"Mmmhmm?"

"You're not wearing my jacket are you?" He asked you so you chuckled.

"Would you be upset if I say no?"

"Not at all, you can have all the fun you desire, i fancy such harmless mischievous pranks, i wasn't named god of mischief for kicks and giggles"

"oh my god..So do I. Thank you, you really do get me" your eyes teared up at the intense emotions you were having at the moment, it was a mixture of arousal and the deep affection you felt for him. You were so in love with him.

"Mmmhmmm you're a naughty naughty girl, that is fascinating" you chuckled as he said that.

"Well at least you find me fascinating"

"You are amazing princess, never let anyone make you feel differently"

"Okayy if you say so"

You both talked for an hour, everytime you said something sexy his cock got hard immediately, he desperately wanted you to touch him but he had no problem staying patient as well, this thing between you two wasn't just romantic and definitely not just sexual, he needed your friendship and he wanted to be your confidante, your one and only, he just hoped his feelings were reciprocated. He always feared that he'd do something or say something that would turn you off and make you see him differently.

He took a deep breath and smiled, he was tired from the day but knowing that he wasn't going to lose you made him feel calm. He couldn't even describe in words how much he valued your presence in his life, the past month felt torturous for him, his heart felt empty and devoid of any emotion but since last night those cracks were starting to fill again with your care and possibly love. Did you love him? He hoped so because he was falling deeply and irrevocably for you. How could he not when you were nothing short of a goddess for him.

You said your goodbyes, though it wasn't something any of you wanted but you had to cut the call at some point and sleep. Next day you got ready for Mrs Geller's birthday party and you weren't expecting to see the whole building plus several other people you didn't know at all. It was a small apartment so that's why it looked even more crowded, your mom had come too and you looked at Mrs Geller nervously but she assured you that your secret was safe with her. .

You went to her kitchenette to make yourself a drink but you gasped as you felt a pair of arms circling around your waist.

You turned around and placed your hand on his chest, you couldn't see him but you knew he was there because you could touch him and you could definitely smell that scent of him that drove you crazy..

"What are you doing?" You asked him as quietly as you could, you made sure nobody was looking at you because they would definitely think you were a lunatic for talking to the air. He leaned closer to whisper in your ear. He was playing a dangerous game but you were into this game.

"I'm here to take revenge for last night, you lied to me sweetheart, you didn't think I'd let it slide so easily, did you?"

🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

Tag list (if you want to be tagged or removed let me know.. also I’m not able to tag some of you, please check your settings)

@annoyingsweetsstranger @mcufan72

@nixymarvelkins @stupidthoughtsinwriting @fictive-sl0th @huntress-artemiss @eleniblue @violethaze @anukulee @ladymischief11 @12-pm-510 @wolfsmom1 @whylokiissocute @hyperlokilover @vickie5446 @pics-and-fanfics @daddylokisqueen @tallseaweed @olivertwistrabbit @blog-the-lilly @prettylittlepluviophile @flashhxn-lights @vanilla-daydreaming @somewiseguy @yaaamadaa-blog @dragonmurray @nyxxharmonia @elthreetimes @gruftiela @thenotoriouserg @optimisticyouthdefender @mcuhplover @greep215 @yallgotkik

@obscureenigmatic @janineb86 @sflame15-blog @nyxlaufeyson @lokidokieokie @purplekitten30

#loki x female reader #loki #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader #loki x reader insert #loki x reader fic #loki x you #loki x reader angst #loki x reader smut #post avengers loki #canon divergent au #soft loki

317 notes · View notes

awesomecooperlove · 9 months

Text

🔥😈🔥

#lahaina #fires #deadly fires #organised crimes #Maui #hawaii #death #destruction #starling land #horrors #crimes against humanity #corruption #standup #speak up #truth #please share #wwg1wga #dirty politics #greed

54 notes · View notes

twola · 1 year

Text

Seven Deadly Sins - VI

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Because if one thing is true, it is that Arthur Morgan is a sinner. Pure, organic, non-GMO smut. A continuing series.

Warnings: Smut, Violence, Low to Medium Honor Arthur (and all that entails)

Sloth: disinclination to action or labor.

➵ AO3 Link

➵ Previous | ➵ Next | ➵ Fic Masterlist

A rooster crows distantly, its call reverberating through the valley as the sun rises in pink-purple hues.

Strawberry is a sleepy town, quiet in its solitude and tranquility in the mountains. The Welcome Center looms large in the center of town, providing rooms to weary travelers and vacationers alike.

Or recovering outlaws.

In a room upstairs, dirty boots are scattered on the wooden floorboards, mud caked on their soles near the door.

A shotgun lies propped against the fireplace, which has long gone cold from the night.

A gun belt is slung over a nightstand, gleaming revolvers tucked into the leather holsters.

Various items of clothing are scattered throughout the room, a bloodstained shirt hung over the mirror, a pair of pants in a pile on the floor. A blouse, also covered in blood, strewn haphazardly over a chair.

A chemise on the floor.

Arthur Morgan awakens with the morning light, blinking as his eyes get used to the room. For the first time in a very long time, he wakes up rested in a large bed.

He wipes down his face with his free hand, working his jaw slightly as he stares at the ceiling, mind at work already on the job he had been putting off.

A soft sound draws him back. The warmth of skin on skin lulls him into a sense of security. You’re tucked into his embrace, possessive in your sleep, not allowing him to get up.

Arthur draws lazy circles on your lower back, barely touching your skin, as you continue to doze against him. Curled against his body, your head is pillowed on his chest, your hand resting gently on his ribcage.

He could stay here forever. You’re both stripped of everything, skin salty with dried sweat from overnight. Laying tangled up in each other in a bed, nude and satiated, a luxury that you hadn’t been able to have yet.

The sheet is balled up by his feet, but he’s warm enough in the room with you pressed against him, his arm wrapped around your frame.

Arthur peers down at your temple, shrouded by your loose hair, and very softly moves his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ears, inspecting the wound he cleaned last night. The skin is red and irritated, but dry. His hand moves down again to rest on the curve of your hip, as he closes his eyes to sleep again.

Arthur tosses an extra coin at the bewildered attendant as the young man looks the two of you up and down.

You could hardly blame his shock, this poor boy, the overnight attendant in the sleepy Welcome Center.

You’re both covered in blood.

His shirt, normally blue and usually dirty, is stained nearly black up the sleeves as if he were skinning a wolf. Dried blood cakes the side of your face, dripping down from the wound on your temple. Arthur snatches the key from the desk and mutters a quick thanks before placing his hand on your lower back and urging you up the stairs. His brown leather jacket is pulled over your shoulders, and you grasp it tighter to yourself as you slowly make your way up the stairs.

He unlocks the door and pushes into the room, letting you step in before closing it behind him. You let the jacket fall from your shoulders and toss it over a side table, stepping toward the large mirror to inspect the damage to your person.

“Lemme see your head.”

You scowl into the reflection, making eye contact with Arthur behind you as he pulls his hat from his head, tossing it over his jacket on the table.

“ ‘M fine.” Your eyes return to the reflection, your fingers moving toward the gash at your hairline. You wince as you touch it gingerly.

“Come here, woman.” Arthur’s voice is low, and you can tell, he’s not politely asking.

“Ain’t yours to order around, Arthur.” You snidely retort, still aggravated from earlier in the night.

His eyebrows furrow, nostrils flaring as he turns around, walking with heavy steps toward a side table where a pitcher and bowl of water rest. He dips one of the white cloths folded on the table into the water and wrings it out gently before stepping back toward you.

"Knock it off.” You push his hand away as he reaches toward your head, and he returns your scowl.

“Stop fussin’. Let me clean y’ up.” Arthur pushes his hand back toward your head, and again, you bat it away.

“Don’t-”

“Look, if y’ want to fight me, fine, but I’m warnin’ you, pretty sure I can hold you down just fine.” Arthur overrules you, grabbing your hand with his free one, holding it down as he presses the damp cloth to your cheek.

You simmer, chastened, and allow him to gently wipe the crusted blood from the side of your face.

“No, you ain’t mine to order around. Knowing you, you’ll never be anyone’s to order around.”

His other hand lets your wrist go and moves up, up to gently tug at your chin, forcing you to look at him, “But I do want y’ to be mine.”

Your eyes dart downward as he presses the cloth to your cheek again. “My cunt’s already yours.” You mumble.

His finger nudges under your chin, making you catch his eyes again.

“That ain’t what I want.”

You raise your eyebrow, he gently pulls your hair back to look at the cut that produced all of the blood. Pressing the damp cloth to it, he pulls it back and inspects it, pleased when it does not come back bloodstained.

“Well,” he coughs lightly, clearing his throat, “That ain’t all I want.”

“Then what do you want?” You ask, voice low enough that it’s nearly a whisper.

He presses his lips, rough and chapped, against your forehead.

“Wanna sit ‘round the fire with you on my knee.”

His lips move to your brow bone. One of his hands grasps your skirt at your waist and the fabric bunches between his fingers.

“Wanna be able to kiss you whenever the hell I want.”

He leans down and presses his lips to yours, hard, and needy, and his beard scratches against the skin of your chin. Arthur’s hands move lower, lower, and clenches on your rear roughly. You yelp as your hands fly to his chest to steady yourself.

“Wanna be able to touch you whenever the hell I want.”

His hands move up your back, and he’s unlacing the ties of your skirt at your waist. The heavy cotton falls to the floor. You can’t do anything but stare into the deep blue of his eyes, ensnared by the rough timbre of his voice.

“Don’t want to hide you anymore.”

You let him unbutton your blouse, and shrug your shoulders to help him peel it down your arms, and it too joins your skirt piled on the floor. Callused fingers dust up your arms to the straps of your chemise, all that hides you from him.

“Want you in my bed every night.”

Your chemise flutters to the floor. You are bare in the dim light of the room. Your breath hitches as he moves his lips to yours, and he nips at your bottom one.

“ ‘Nd I wanna wake up with you naked in my arms every mornin’.”

You moan, unabashedly, and throw your arms around his neck, pressing your mouth to his and your tongue presses against the seam of his lips.

“Arthur,” you gasp into his mouth as his arms wrap around your back, “Take me to bed.”

He grunts in approval, his large hands move over your hips and rear to the backs of your thighs, and he heaves you up. Your legs immediately wrap around his waist as you whine into the warm skin of his neck. It feels so unlike your first impassioned rendezvous, outside of Clemens Point weeks and weeks ago.

He carries you, sure-footed and strong, to the bed, and gently lies you down on the soft mattress, your arms and legs unwind from him and he presses his mouth to yours again as he leans over you.

Arthur’s hands move back to his body, and he’s furiously pushing the buttons of his shirt through their eyelets. He pulls his suspenders down and they swing loosely near his hips as he unbuttons his pants. He shucks the clothes from his body and lets them crumple on the floor as he climbs on top of you in the bed.

You open your legs as he slots his hips between them, pressing against you as he places his elbows on either side of your head, bracketing you securely beneath him.

His cock parts your folds, and with a roll of hips, his shaft fits snugly along the length of the seam of your body. He kisses you, tongue dancing in your mouth against your own, and gently thrusts his hips back and forth, his cockhead rubbing against your clit.

You moan into his mouth, your arms slung round his neck, and meet his thrusts with the rolling of your hips. After several moments, his shaft is coated in your slick, and he moans back at you before drawing himself up on his knees.

With one hand, he grasps the base of his cock, stroking it a few times before he looks back at you, spread beneath him, open and wet and waiting to be filled.

“Do you wanna be mine, sweet girl?”

You sit up to lean on your elbows, and he leans over you, one hand back to the bed to keep him upright.

“I’m already yours, Arthur,” you smile before reaching up to kiss him, “Just was hopin’ you’d ask.”

Arthur rolls his hips once more, catching your entrance with the weeping head of his cock, he slowly, gently presses inside.

He keeps his eyes trained on yours, and his mouth falls open with each passing inch of himself that he slides into your warmth. A flighty moan escapes your mouth as he seats himself fully within you, and he has to close his eyes to the feeling.

“God, woman, I always wanna be inside you.” He grits out, lowering himself to his elbows as you wrap your open legs around his hips.

“Good thing ‘m yours then, 'cause you can be inside me whenever you want.” You smile as you catch his jaw with an open-mouthed kiss.

“Shouldn’t say that, how am I gonna get any work done if I’m always in ya?” He rolls his hips slowly, and gently, and you murmur a soft sound of delight.

“Mm- Arthur-” You moan out as he presses slowly back into you, and you can feel the ghost of his smile against your temple.

“Always wanna hear you say my name like that.” He whispers, and when he draws his cock back, he presses forward faster, harder, and you’re beyond the point of continuing the conversation.

Frankly, he is past that point as well, and the room is filled with the cacophony of sex - the slap of skin on skin, the whine of the bed frame as he presses you into the mattress. The high mewls from your throat and the low groans from his.

The careening of the human body toward its ultimate pleasure: La petit mort, the French call it. Or whatever the hell Chatenay said in Saint Denis.

Hands everywhere, hips rolling against each other. Sweet nothings whispered in ears and names gasped in cloying breaths.

It’s different, this time, he knows. You know. It’s not the frantic, hurried dalliances you usually share. It’s a slower, fuller rhythm that he grinds you into the mattress. Your hips rock against his every stroke, and he pulls his cock nearly out of you before pushing all the way back in.

Your orgasm surprises you, cresting the wave as Arthur continues to thrust slowly into you, his rasping voice in your ear as you whine out your pleasure.

He stills, sliding his hips against yours as far as they can go. His breath hitches as you feel his cock twitch, and he floods your cunt with his warm spend. The feeling sends you over the edge as well, and your nails dig lines into his back as your hips seize in pleasure.

You both come down from your highs, entangled in limbs and skin and refusing to break the connection between you. Arthur is draped over you, his elbows and knees keeping the bulk of his weight off of you.

His lips touch your forehead gently as you unwind your legs from crossing over his hips, letting them fall open on either side of him.

One of your hands moves to cup his cheek, and with that crooked smile you find yourself falling in love with, he leans down and opens his lips to yours. For a moment- actually- many moments, you kiss, safe and secure underneath him, in this bed in a low-lit room in the middle of the night.

His cock remains buried within you, and neither one of you is eager to lose that connection.

Sunlight pours in through the linen curtains, the morning light finally causes you to wake. You stretch, arching your back as you awaken, pushing your front against the solid form of Arthur next to you.

“Mmph.” You moan into his skin, waking yourself up little by little.

Arthur presses his lips against the crown of your head as your fingers press against his sternum, “Mornin’ there, sunshine.”

“Mornin’ cowboy.” You lean into him happily.

“Whatcha doin’ there?” Arthur says with a sly drawl as your fingers dust through the wiry hair of his chest.

“Just admiring the scenery.” You reply, as your hand moves down over his belly, down the hard line of his muscles toward where his hips narrow.

Your fingers weave through the coarse curls above his pelvis, pressing against the skin underneath, not moving any further downwards, not touching his straining cock as it hardens, so close, but yet so far away for him.

“Look at you, gettin’ so excited and I’m not even touching your cock.”

He grunts in response, his hips flexing upward as he squeezes his eyes shut tightly. His right hand clenches the sheet of the bed for dear life, his left grasping the globe of your rear hard enough to leave a mark.

“Mm, what do you want, sweetheart?” You purr, enjoying thoroughly the control you have over this situation, “You want my little fingers around all of this?”

“Darlin’- please-” he groans, a look of pure desperation on his face.

You continue to card through his pubic hair, but press your whole body against him, your lips hovering next to his ear.

“Say it again,” you whisper.

“ Mmph-” he grunts, his hips straining upward, “Say what-”

“Call me darlin’.”

He turns his head towards you and presses his lips against yours as he groans. As he pulls back slightly, his eyes flutter open.

“ Darlin’ ,” he breathes, “ My darlin’ girl-”

His words melt into a needy sound as your fingers finally wrap around his cock.

“That’s it, c’mon sweetheart…” you whisper in his ear as you twist your hand slightly as you pump his considerable length. Your hips rock in a little bucking movement against him, and each sound you’re able to wrench from the mountain of this man going straight to your core.

“Lemme… lemme-” he reaches his free hand toward your hip, your aching cunt his obvious destination.

“Nu-uh.” You whisper, stroking him faster, and a grunt tumbles out of his mouth when he can’t finish his sentence.

You lean over him, slotting one of your legs over his thigh, and gently press your lips to his cheek before moving down toward his ear.

“I want you to come for me.” You whisper as you roll your hips against his thigh, and squeeze tighter around his straining cock.

His eyes shut tightly as his hips buck into your touch, “Darl- fuck - I’m comin’, I’m comin’ ”, he grits into your ear and your fingers are covered in thick spend as he does just that.

Arthur is gasping, breathless, as you slowly stroke his cock through the end of his orgasm. It takes him a moment to open his eyes again, but he slowly does, turning his head toward you as his breathing slows.

“Jesus, sweet thing. You’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

You smile, tucking your hair behind your ear as you sit up, taking in his sated form, reclined on the bed. He looks happy. He looks calm. The workhorse of this gang, always moving, always working, always stealing and robbing and shooting. For once, he looks like the weight of the world was not on his shoulders. The crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes seem not to look as severe.

He runs his hands through his hair, pushing the ends of it from his forehead. His eyes trail from your hand, covered in his milky spend, back down to his cock, softening and also covered in his spend. He frowns and scrunches his nose as you laugh, moving off the bed and over toward the pitcher of water. You pour water into the bowl, and take a fresh towel, wetting it before wiping your hand clean. Dipping the cloth back into the bowl and wringing it out, you toss it at Arthur, who catches it to start cleaning himself.

“We should probably get up and back to camp.” You start to gather your unbound hair over your shoulder, trying to tame it from the muss of sex and sleep.

“Paid for the room another day.”

“Oh really? That’s pretty convenient..”

“You ain’t gettin’ out this bed, woman. Get back o’er here.”

Hours pass. Maybe. Time is of no meaning locked away in this room, where Arthur keeps to his word, you do not get out of bed. The morning bleeds into the afternoon and into the golden-hued beckoning of the evening.

Time is punctuated by hours of sleep and wakefulness.

And sex, of course.

“Mm- keep goin’.”

You whine softly into the crown of his head, your fingers digging into his back as he grunts into your skin, closing his lips over one of your hardened nipples, sucking on it gently. His hand kneads your other breast slowly, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

You feel him harden against your thigh, his torso splayed over you as he suckles at your breasts, his mouth moving around your pale skin and leaving red-purple marks upon your chest.

His fingers splay over your belly as his hand moves lower, lower, and you recognize the game he’s playing as his hand stops over your mound, fingers running through the thatch of dark hair there.

“Maybe a little payback, you little minx.” He chuckles as his fingers weave through your pubic hair, not moving any closer to where you throb.

All you can do is whine as he kisses up your chest and your neck.

“Oh, my girl, I ain’t a cruel man. Not nearly as cruel as you.”

He slides his pointer finger between your folds, brushing up against the little nub of your pleasure before pressing into your weeping cunt, and your hips buck up to chase the feeling further.

“A-Arthur, please- please-” your begging is cut off as he starts to thrust that finger back and forth, leaving you mewling into the skin of his shoulder.

“I’ll give ya everythin’ you want, darlin’.” He grunts into your ear as you can feel him press his hardening cock against your thigh. His middle finger slips inside your cunt as his thumb presses on your clit, and your head falls back against the pillow as you keen.

Arthur presses his cock against the side of your hip, “ Fuck , ‘nd everything I want too.”

“H-how do you want me?” You sigh breathily, as he removes his glistening fingers from your body.

He sucks your slick off of his fingers before returning to lean over you. You moan as you watch him.

“On yer hands and knees, beautiful.”

You scramble up to your knees in front of him, and with a sly, seductive smile, you turn around and shimmy your hips as you lean down on your hands, your rear on display for his greedy eyes.

“That’s it.”

His palms fan out on your lower back as he pulls you closer gently. You press up on the bed, steadying your hands and knees. You feel one of Arthur’s hands leave your back as the other one rounds your hip.

He grunts softly as he pumps his cock several times before he aligns his hips with yours and presses the head of his cock into your folds. You mewl piteously as he slides in, slowly, until his pelvis is pressed against your rear.

He starts to move, his hands guiding your hips back to meet his thrusts. Arthur finds a punishing rhythm and you bury your face in the pillow as he fucks you into a moaning mess.

One of his large arms settles next to your shoulder, and he’s leaning over your back, covering you with himself, his head turned in toward yours as he nips at your ear. The other hand swings beneath both of your hips to press against that spot of your pleasure while his cock is pressed into you as far as he can go.

He gently pinches your nub between his fingers and your arms fail you, you sink into the pillow with your hips raised, legs spread on either side of him. You groan loudly into the cotton.

“Oh, my girl-”

You can do nothing but whine in response as he starts to rub at your clit as he gently presses his hips back and forth into you, remaining spread out on top of you.

Oh god, it’s so much. You’re going to die, you’re going to have a heart attack, every muscle in your body is going to wring inside out. You’re gasping like a fish out of water, whining high-pitched, needy sounds against the cotton of the pillowcase.

“Oh god-” you’re able to gasp out, begging for mercy because your body is clenching and you’re definitely coming and he’s not stopping. You're stretched taut around his length, buried deep in your core, as he rubs roughly at your clit, “Stop, stop, I’m gonna-”

“Gimme more, c’mon-” he rumbles, his breath hot in your ear, “I know you got more-”

You cry out, loudly , and it feels like your body is bursting at the seams. A gushing wetness covers his cock within you and he grunts happily as it seeps out, covering his balls and thighs and your rear in your slick.

“Tha’s it, oh darlin’-”

You’re crying, the overstimulation is too much . Arthur blessedly pulls his hand away from your clit, pushing himself up and grasping your hips again. He starts thrusting into you, his cock steel-hard.

You whine, “G-give it to me-”

A grunt of satisfaction spills from his throat, as he grips your hips hard, a wild pace that is obviously close to a stuttering end.

“Yer so good- Christ , god- you’re so good, my darlin’, my girl-”, his thrusts punctuate the words spilling from his mouth, “Gonna give you everythin’, gonna give you all of m-me.”

Everything is so wet, so slick and his glides so smooth as he pounds into you. After your blinding orgasm, your body feels boneless, and you’re helpless to do anything but let him use you for his own satisfaction. The outlaw groans his stuttering end with a final thrust into your hips, his fingers digging into your skin.

You collapse onto the bed, laying on your stomach as he gently extricates himself from your hips, leaning back on his knees as he catches his breath.

You vaguely feel the bed creak under shifting weight and hear his footsteps pad toward the side table with the pitcher and bowl of water. You murmur softly as you feel the cool brush of linen on your back. He gently wipes the washcloth over your thighs, cleaning it of your slick as he leans over and kisses your shoulder blade. Arthur steps back, moving back toward the side table, and cleaning himself with the washcloth.

You stretch your legs out in the bed a bit while you watch him, unabashed in his nakedness, as he squeezes out the cloth into the bowl before draping it over the side to dry out.

You smile to yourself as your gaze scans his skin, his back pale where the collar of his shirt begins. Red-pink lines sweep across his freckled skin, and a wave of joyful possessiveness flows through you as you recognize those lines coming from your blunt nails in the throes of passion.

Arthur turns back toward you, and the crooked smile he gives makes your heart flutter.

“Are we heading back?” You ask, arching your back slightly as you continue to stretch your body out. Laying on your belly, you prop your chin up on your forearms.

“Tomorrow,” Arthur replies as he gets back into the bed, pulling you into his embrace again.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow sounds good.

#rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead fanfic #rdr2 smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #ao3 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption #red dead redemption fanfiction #seven deadly sins #twolafic

179 notes · View notes

mikrokosmos · 3 months

Text

youtube

J.S. Bach - Orchestral Suite no.3 in D Major, BWV 1068 (c.1730)

I want to say I was listening to this one in my rocking chair next to my books on music. Or with wine and cheese at someone's party. No, I put this on while I washed the dishes. I thought I'd share my old post on this same piece but realized that I'd never written about this suite. And I don't have anything profound or introspective to say about it. It made taking down this mountain if dirty dishes feel like a grand accomplishment. It's a reminder that this music was written for the audience to enjoy. It doesn't have to be treated like music theory homework. That being said, I do like looking at the history of the orchestral suite, which would develop into the symphony. What can we hear from Bach's Proto-Symphony no.3? The Orchestral Suite was a carryover from France's Ouvertures. It would start with a slow section to draw in the audience, and then a lively counterpunctual exercise. After the "heavier" opening movement, the rest of the pieces are light dances, galanteries (minuets, bourrées, courantes, sarabandes, gavottes, allemandes, gigues, etc.). Because the German political elite had a taste for French art, they would have music played during their banquets and parties. Bach had no real interest in this kind of music (which would be a decent income source) because he was already dedicated to writing church music. But what few he did leave behind (we only have four Orchestral Suites attributed to him) sounds like great party music. The Suite in D Major is scored for 3 trumpets, timpani, oboes, violins, viola, basso continuo, giving it a louder sound than the others. The Ouverture starts with the slower grand statement announced by the trumpets and timpani. As you'd expect from Bach, this opens into a counterpunctual explorations of the melodies that developed out of the opening, but with the vibrancy of Vivaldi's fast paced concertos. The ending section cuts back and ends with a more subdued coda. The Air of this suite has stuck in our culture through films and TV, popular for its beautiful melodies. I remember first hearing it in the most ironic example I know; played during the library scene in Seven (or "Se7en") from the 1995 film. The ugliness and depraved misanthropy in the film is contrasted for a moment by the idealized "beautiful music" by an idealized "Great Composer". I thought it was showing the spectrum of human minds, that the "greatest" Baroque composer comes from the same human family as a lunatic serial killer using the Christian "Seven Deadly Sins" for gruesome punishments against his victims. Listening to it now I think it's fascinating that someone could have been touched or moved by the gorgeous Aria without words Bach wrote for whatever party or occasion, and she would have no idea that the same music would be heard again as so many of these festival pieces were back then. The latter dances show off the trumpets to make each one boisterous and lively. Two Gavottes with heavy emphasis on the beat, an upbeat Bourrée, and ending on the always fun and swaying Gigue. Of these dances I think I love Bach's gigues the most because they're always densely woven with his long waves of counterpoint across each instrument to create a dance that makes me think of old pub drinking songs or sailors dancing and drinking at sea. Another reminder that this music is supposed to be fun and enjoyable for anyone, and you can turn your own living room into an 18th century court for fun.

Movements:

Ouverture

Air

Gavotte I/II

Bourrée

Gigue

19 notes · View notes

lorrainmorgan · 4 months

Text

Serpent's Fang

[ 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐮 𝐦𝐲 🐍 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 ]

Previous Part 5 Next

"LORRAIN!" Sebastian's voice boomed impatiently, taking her face between his hands and silencing her protests. "They're hunting you down..."

The night was filled with torturous nightmares for Ominis. The only thought of Lorrain being violently attacked by his brother Marvolo haunted him like a twisted lullaby.

Sebastian, always attentive to this routine, rushed immediately to his side. He shook Ominis gently, calling out his name and trying to bring him back to reality. It took several attempts before Ominis finally snapped awake, gasping for air. He awoke in cold sweat, tears streaming down his face as he cried out her name.

They sat on the bed, facing each other. He felt the genuine concern etched on his friend's face, and after a short time his racing heart began to slow down and his breathing returned to normal.

"I'm fine, Sebastian," Ominis reassured him with a shaky voice. "Just a nightmare... nothing more."

"Are you sure?" Sebastian asked. "I've never seen you… suffer like that before..."

Ominis nodded weakly, not wanting to overwhelm Sebastian with the details of his disturbing dream. But deep down, he couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to it than just a simple nightmare.

“Do you want me to get Lorra?” Sebastian asked out of the blue.

Ominis snarled at the sudden mention of her. He did want her nearby, but didn't want to force her to waste sleep just for the sake of easing his own anxiety and paranoia.

"No need for her to babysit me, thank you very much".

After a small pause, Sebastian finally said:

“You know she has fancied you for quite some time now, right? I knew when I saw her talking to you for the first time, and I confirmed it months ago. You two were, and still are, crystal clear obvious.” Ominis’ mind began to dredge up feelings of doubt and insecurity that he had been trying to push down.

Sebastian’s steps faltered as he walked towards his own bed, each one feeling heavier than the last.

"Fancied me? That's absurd," Ominis scoffed, but his voice lacked conviction.

As his friend reached his bed, he continued with a deadly seriousness. "You need to protect what’s yours Ominis. I saw Marvolo inviting her to Bal tool, right after you asked her. And we both know what that means."

The elder Gaunt seemed to be always one step ahead. Ominis knew all too damn well about Marvolo's manipulative and cruel nature, but this time there was something more sinister at play, but he couldn't wrap his head around what that might be.

”She declined him very… elegantly and politely. It surprised me ho-”

"I can't risk her well-being Sebastian, What if next time he actually does something worse?" Ominis muttered, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the weight of the responsibility for someone else's safety.

His friend shook his head. "No, you must trust her. Trust her as much as you trust me or Anne. You deserve to be happy, Ominis, plus, she is a capable and a very intelligent witch, and you two love birds are just getting started” He insinuated in a naughty tone.

“Well… after what happened in the Deathday Ballroom I think I co-” Ominis stopped abruptly putting his hand on his mouth and started to turn bright red, realizing what he was about to say.

Awkward Silence.

“... You dirty bastard…” Sebastian cuckled loudly, throwing a pillow at his friend. “So? You know what, no, keep the juicy details to yourself” -He emphasized the word juicy - Just tell me, did you kiss her?” “Good night Sebastian” Ominis cut him off.

“SO YOU DID, GOOOOOD.Did you also-?” “I said good night Sebastian” “SO YOU DIIIIIIID” Sebastian teased on a high pitch voice and started blushing. He knew his friend too well to know that when Ominis didn't want to talk about an embarrassing topic, he'd just cut the conversation right off.

“You’re a pervert, please do not torment me with your fantasies now Sallow, I’m trying to sleep”

“If you want I could show you a secret passageway to the girl’s dorm. Mhhh?”

“I said N- wait, WHAT? How would y- You know what? I don’t even want to hear it”...

______ 🐍 _______

As the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the Black Lake, the Common Room slowly stirred awake. Lorrain dragged herself down the stairs, her limbs heavy from all the previous nerve racking night. She caught sight of Ominis already up and about, waving his wand to summon some tea cups - he has always been an early riser.

"How do you manage to always look impeccable even at 7 in the morning?" she asked him with a yawn, admiring how his perfectly styled hair never seemed to falter.

A hint of pink dusted Ominis' cheeks as he turned towards her voice, only to be met with a sudden hug from her. He happily embraced it, feeling her arms tighten around him with a sense of comfort and familiarity. These were the small moments that made their friendship so special.

"Good morning, beautiful. I missed you."

As they made their way to the Great Hall, their hungry stomachs growled in anticipation of the breakfast awaiting for them inside. But as they entered the Hall, numerous eyes turned their focus on their direction.

Ominis could feel the judgment of those stares on him, some filled with admiration and others with disdain. He forced himself to eat in silence, trying to ignore the intense stares of the people around him. The weight of their judgment was suffocating. Lorra acted like nothing was happening and sooner than later was already laughing with the other Slytherin students at the table.

Tired of everything and everyone, Reyes stood up and roared.

“DOES ANYBODY HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THEIR EYESIGHT THIS MORNING?” Imelda's sudden sarcastic shout shattered the stillness, causing everyone to jump in their seats and look the other way.

"Thank you, Imelda," Lorra's laughter rang out like tinkling bells as she glanced at Ominis. His aura had grown increasingly dark and gloomy, finding himself once again on the spot.

Standing up, he snatched his wand from the table and made his way towards the exit of the Hall. Lorrain watched him leave, her gaze lingered on his retreating figure before turning back to Imelda and Sebastian. Sebs let out a heavy sigh and shifted in his seat, following Ominis' footsteps with his eyes.

As soon as Gaunt stepped foot out in the hallway, he looked slightly over his shoulder, almost expecting someone to come after him.

"Yep, that's my cue." The redheaded girl stood up from her seat and made her way towards Ominis. A small smile of relief crossed Sebs' face - she truly understood his friend.

Ominis was hunched over in a dark corner of the corridor, his back pressed against one of the House Points Hourglasses. Lorrain joined him and her presence made a small comfort in the chaos surrounding him.

"I'm sorry if I seemed abrupt..." he began to apologize.

Without hesitation, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the Undercroft. Ominis usually hated when people guided- or pulled- or touched him for any matter, but not Lorra...never Lorra.

The moment the Undercroft's gate sealed them in, Lorra attacked Ominis with a ferocious hunger. How else was she suppose to make him focus on the good, that they were finally together? Her lips crashed upon his, and he couldn't resist pulling her tightly against him, matching her intensity, sucking and biting with an insatiable need. The suddenness of her actions only fueled his desire and all other thoughts flew out of the window.

The wizard could feel her urgency in every touch and he welcomed it eagerly. She pushed him gently against some old boxes, demanding more, when they heard a loud noise.

Their hearts pounded in unison as the gates of the Undercroft suddenly swung open, revealing an exhausted Sebastian trying to catch his breath. The two quickly broke their kiss to hide their mess.

"Sebastian? What's going on?" Lorraine asked anxiously fixing her hair and skirt, but her words were cut off by his panicked answer.

Through gasps for air, Sebastian managed to utter, "O-Ominis's...mother...Central Hall…"

The air began to turn thick and heavy. Ominis's body tensed at the mention of his mother, his face contorted into a mix of fear and anger.

"Omi-"

"Stay out of this, Lorrain." His voice cut through the air like a razor-sharp knife, filled with a dangerous ferocity that stopped Lorrain right on her tracks.

In one swift motion, Gaunt composed himself, brushed away the girl's kisses and grabbed his wand with steady hands. He marched out of the Undercroft with determination, leaving Lorraine and Sebastian behind.

"We have to go," Sebastian urged Lorraine. "You need to get out of here, NOW."

"Wha- why? I’m not afraid of his moth-"

"LORRAIN!" Sebastian's voice boomed impatiently, taking her face between his hands and silencing her protests. "They're hunting you down. Marvolo told his parents what Ominis did, and now his family knows about you. I'm sorry, but they won't listen to reason. You need to understand..." Sebastian begged her, desperation creeping through his voice.

Despite Sebastian's worried and pleading expression, she stood stubborn and unyielding. Could She be capable of hurting Ominis because of...her?

Without putting more thought into it, she rushed to the exit, then down the stairs, following the sudden screams and yelling near the mermaid’s fountain at Central Hall. Sallow chased her, his fear turned into panic, knowing he couldn't protect her from that volatile woman. But before he could do anything more, Mrs Gaunt appeared before them.

Notes

👉Pose reference for Lorra from Rin from DBD 👉 So proud of my proportions finallyyyyy! I think I'm gonna start doing a cover for each chapter, instead of scattered scenes :P

#ominis gaunt #sebastian x ominis x mc #ominis gaunt fanart #ominis smut #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy x reader #slytherin #hogwarts legacy fanart #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #ominis gaunt fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanart

23 notes · View notes

aurumacadicus · 19 days

Text

It's that time of month again, friends! And for June, we're doing something special: Queer-themed books, both a fiction and non-fiction selection! We'll be reading both over the course of five weeks. Tumblr will vote, and the book club will then vote among the top three in Discord. If you'd like to join the book club, send me a message and I'll send you a link to the discord! Keep an eye out for the other poll, and check out the books' summaries under the cut!

My Deary Henry – A Jekyll & Hyde Remix by Kalynn Bayron

London, 1885. Gabriel Utterson, a 17-year-old law clerk, has returned to London for the first time since his life—and that of his dearest friend, Henry Jekyll—was derailed by a scandal that led to his and Henry’s expulsion from the London Medical School. Whispers about the true nature of Gabriel and Henry’s relationship have followed the boys for two years, and now Gabriel has a chance to start again.

But Gabriel doesn’t want to move on, not without Henry. His friend has become distant and cold since the disastrous events of the prior spring, and now his letters have stopped altogether. Desperate to discover what’s become of him, Gabriel takes to watching the Jekyll house.

In doing so, Gabriel meets Hyde, a strangely familiar young man with white hair and a magnetic charisma. He claims to be friends with Henry, and Gabriel can’t help but begin to grow jealous at their apparent closeness, especially as Henry continues to act like Gabriel means nothing to him.

But the secret behind Henry’s apathy is only the first part of a deeper mystery that has begun to coalesce. Monsters of all kinds prowl within the London fog—and not all of them are out for blood…

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

The Emperor needs necromancers. The Ninth Necromancer needs a swordswoman.

Gideon has a sword, some dirty magazines, and no more time for undead nonsense.

Tamsyn Muir’s Gideon the Ninth, first in The Locked Tomb Trilogy, unveils a solar system of swordplay, cut-throat politics, and lesbian necromancers. Her characters leap off the page, as skillfully animated as arcane revenants. The result is a heart-pounding epic science fantasy.

Brought up by unfriendly, ossifying nuns, ancient retainers, and countless skeletons, Gideon is ready to abandon a life of servitude and an afterlife as a reanimated corpse. She packs up her sword, her shoes, and her dirty magazines, and prepares to launch her daring escape. But her childhood nemesis won’t set her free without a service.

Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Reverend Daughter of the Ninth House and bone witch extraordinaire, has been summoned into action. The Emperor has invited the heirs to each of his loyal Houses to a deadly trial of wits and skill. If Harrowhark succeeds she will become an immortal, all-powerful servant of the Resurrection, but no necromancer can ascend without the cavalier. Without Gideon’s sword, Harrow will fail, and the Ninth House will die.

Of course, some things are better left dead.

Compulsory + All Systems Red by Martha Wells

“As a heartless killing machine, I was a complete failure.”

In a corporate-dominated spacefaring future, planetary missions must be approved and supplied by the Company. Exploratory teams are accompanied by Company-supplied security androids, for their own safety.

But in a society where contracts are awarded to the lowest bidder, safety isn’t a primary concern.

On a distant planet, a team of scientists are conducting surface tests, shadowed by their Company-supplied ‘droid – a self-aware SecUnit that has hacked its own governor module, and refers to itself (though never out loud) as “Murderbot.” Scornful of humans, all it really wants is to be left alone long enough to figure out who it is.

But when a neighboring mission goes dark, it’s up to the scientists and their Murderbot to get to the truth.

Dear Wendy by Ann Zhao

Sophie Chi is in her first year of college (though her parents wish she’d attend a “real” university rather than a liberal arts school) and has long accepted her aroace (aromantic and asexual) identity. She knows she’ll never fall in love, but she enjoys running an Instagram account that offers relationship advice to students at her school. No one except her roommate can know that she’s behind the incredibly popular “Dear Wendy” account.

When Joanna “Jo” Ephron (also a first-year aroace college student) created their “Sincerely Wanda” account, it wasn’t at all meant to take off or be taken seriously—not like Wendy’s. But now they might have a rivalry of sorts with Wendy’s account? Oops. As if Jo’s not busy enough having existential crises over gender identity, whether she’ll ever truly be loved, and the possibility of her few friends finding The One then forgetting her!

While tensions are rising online, Sophie and Jo grow closer in real life, especially once they realize their shared aroace identity and start a campus organization for other a-spec students. Will their friendship survive if they learn just who’s behind the Wendy and Wanda accounts?

Exploring a-spec identities, college life, and more, while perfect for fans of Alice Oseman’s Loveless, this is ultimately a love story about two people who are not—and will not—be in love!

A Marvelous Light by Freya Marske

Robin Blyth has more than enough bother in his life. He’s struggling to be a good older brother, a responsible employer, and the harried baronet of a seat gutted by his late parents’ excesses. When an administrative mistake sees him named the civil service liaison to a hidden magical society, he discovers what’s been operating beneath the unextraordinary reality he’s always known.

Now Robin must contend with the beauty and danger of magic, an excruciating deadly curse, and the alarming visions of the future that come with it—not to mention Edwin Courcey, his cold and prickly counterpart in the magical bureaucracy, who clearly wishes Robin were anyone and anywhere else.

Robin’s predecessor has disappeared, and the mystery of what happened to him reveals unsettling truths about the very oldest stories they’ve been told about the land they live on and what binds it. Thrown together and facing unexpected dangers, Robin and Edwin discover a plot that threatens every magician in the British Isles—and a secret that more than one person has already died to keep.

Looking for Love in All the Haunted Places by Claire Kann

Lucky Hart has a special affinity for the supernatural but almost no one takes parapsychology seriously. She's estranged from her family, lost her friends, and has been rejected from graduate school. Twice. But her big break finally arrives when she gets insider info about a troubled production company. Every actor on their new show mysteriously quits after spending three nights inside Hennessee House, an old Victorian with a notorious reputation.

After scheming her way onto the show to investigate, Lucky meets Maverick Phillips and chemistry instantly crackles between them. He tempts her in ways no one ever has, challenging and supporting her, and making her finally feel seen. Their connection is so palpable everyone notices it—including Hennessee House.

Now Lucky and Maverick’s relationship has a challenger: the lonely, sentient house desperate for her undivided attention. As love begins to clash with career, Lucky refuses to choose one over the other because everyone deserves a happily ever after, even houses with haunted hearts. But when all her plans begin backfiring one-by-one, she realizes that if she wants to have it all? She’ll have to risk everything.

Under the Whispering Door by TJ Klune

When a reaper comes to collect Wallace Price from his own funeral, Wallace suspects he really might be dead.

Instead of leading him directly to the afterlife, the reaper takes him to a small village. On the outskirts, off the path through the woods, tucked between mountains, is a particular tea shop, run by a man named Hugo. Hugo is the tea shop's owner to locals and the ferryman to souls who need to cross over.

But Wallace isn’t ready to abandon the life he barely lived. With Hugo’s help he finally starts to learn about all the things he missed in life.

When the Manager, a curious and powerful being, arrives at the tea shop and gives Wallace one week to cross over, Wallace sets about living a lifetime in seven days.

#polls #book club

16 notes · View notes

maxellminidisc · 6 months

Text

youtube

TW for Flashing Lights

Gonna make it a thing where I try and draw attention to LGBT+ artist from all over LatAm every now and then cause I'm bi, trans, Latine, and I love sharing music with people cause it genuinely can and does do so much for us.

This time around I think a lot of you would like getting familiar with Urias, she's a Brazilian rapper and singer who wants to make a mark for the trans girls of the world. This single is a song for unapologetic trans existence and pride from 2019 called Diaba (or "she-devil" in English).

She's always pulling out interesting concepts with a constant stream of experimental electronic sound and eye catching visuals. She actually released a new album about five months ago thats mostly based in Dance genres with accompanying visualizers and dance videos (the videos for these are also pretty eye straining or also prone to flashing images and light), along with another album called FURIA in 2022 that is also worth a listen.

English translation of the lyrics of this song under the read more

Nice to meet you, I'm the eighth deadly sin

U-RI-AS

Try to understand, I've always been seen by many as evil

Can't you see that on your family I'm the mainstay?

I possess you, already possessed you

Your law made me illegal, they called me dirty, insane and immoral

Now you'll have to swallow me, whether you like it or not

Now that I've reached a global scale

Razor underneath my tongue, I'm ready to fight

Razor underneath my tongue

She-devil, argh

I'm not new here, don't need an excuse

Your permission never made any difference

With all my politeness, fuck your belief

Fuck your belief, ah

Razor underneath my tongue, I'm ready to fight

Razor underneath my tongue

She-devil, argh

#i heard about her cause i listen to Gaby Amarantos and they collabed on this really cool song with another artist #that had this like equally as cool scifi kitchy video #urias #jams run free #Youtube #also not to downplay who the other artist is its Ney Matagrosso whos like #considered one of the best latam singers of all time LMAO #and an icon of challenging gender norms in art and pop culture in Brazil #🎵📚

25 notes · View notes

lavender-bundle-blithe · 20 days

Text

hey. guess what. more Human Abilities AU, starring the Armed Detective Agency!

Kunikida's first up, with Matchless Poet/Doppo Poet (I don't know which one's right-), or just "Poet"! Poet is much like Kunikida, wanting to keep up with work and having an organized and well maintained scheduled. But while Kunikida scolds the others for slacking off, Poet is more kinder with his words. Still has the scary factor though when the others push it, and definitely if they mess with his organization. That's his thing, organization. Mess with it, and you'll end up with a binder at the face. Regardless of his scary factor, Poet is more or less the diligent and caring big brother when it comes to his voice claim. ex: maybeee (goodness voice claims are hard when you have a itty bitty mind and you dont know much voices-) "L. Lawliet" from Death Note.

Ranpo's Super/Ultra Deduction, or Suiri! (going with romaji for some of these-) Suiri is as much as a smarty as they are a foodie. And while they have the same confidence in their deductions like Ranpo, Suiri is a actually a lot more mellow and quiet about their accomplishments which correlates to the fact that Ranpo doesn't actually have an ability. Sometimes they wonder why they're still around when they're at their lowest, but the rest make it an every day occurrence to make them feel needed. Hey, at least they know their way back to the agency. But some thing's for sure when it comes to their voice claim. They have Ranpo's sass and shoot-backs. ex: Nagisa from Assassination Classroom.

Yosano's Thou Shalt Not Die, Kochou(a less common name meaning "butterfly", the other being just "cho")! She is very much similar to Yosano as a feminist and a very independent woman that need no man. But in the sense, she does more of the dirty work. She's not afraid in getting her hands dirty. But even then, she knows beauty just like her iridescent butterflies when she sees it, more or less giving her an elegant but straightforward voice claim. Not as sadistic, but it's still in that scary factor that a single unamused and threatening stare could have many sit down and wait for their demise if she were to unleash such on them. ex: Lust from Full Metal Alchemist (at this point, im just going through random tiktoks of voice claims to figure something out qwq)

Kenji's Undefeated by Rain, or just... Rain! Rain a literal carbon copy of Kenji, with a bit more knowledge about city life... but somehow still not enough. Very much a social butterfly and polite just like Kenji, if not somewhat more mature than the boy. One poignant thing about Rain, though, is his strong nature of not wanting to hurt, so he's actually a pacifist. In a way, he is in the back lines when it comes to things, acting as defense more than offense which Kenji is. But similar to Kenji, if someone were to try and tilt that, Rain won't hesitate and punch someone a block or four back. And for his voice claim, taking to account that he's a but more mature but still golden hearted and he knows where he stands in situations. ex: Lune from The Cat Returns.

Kyouka and Demon Snow, or Shirayuki (romaji once more). Now Shirayuki is different from the others. The reason being is because she was previously Kyouka's mother's ability. Her phantom takes after her mother. With one last order given from her, Shirayuki is immensely protective of Kyouka, acting more or less like a mother-figure in place of Kyouka's. And really, the phantom resembles her mother, and it brings her comfort. So in a way, Shirayuki will take after Kyouka's mother. A nice and loving woman but can be silent and deadly with the help of her katana. But after being linked with Kyouka, she began taking after Kyouka's straightforwardness. Basically motherly for her voice claim. ex: well... Kyouka's mother from Bungou Stray Dogs.

Tanizaki and Light Snow, or just Snow! Snow has that strong familiarity sense, she is very much like the big sister to both Tanizaki and Naomi, and is more or less confused at their antics and a bit concerned, she's just glad they're close (she does not know the full extent). Snow is basically the only one besides a few notable others that have normal braincells in the agency, a good balance of work and having a bit of fun in the office. And similar to Tanizaki, can be ruthless when she wants to be (or if someone hurts her family [that includes the agency too]). And surprisingly, she gets along with everyone, ESPECIALLY Byakko, which often than not shocks most. Because if anything, Byakko is close with Shirayuki and whatever is going on with Rashomon. ex: Sisu from Raya and the Last Dragon. Taking into account about the braincells but also the fact that she somewhat acts similarly to Tanizaki

And you know what, have a Katai with... "Futon". Hm. A bit of a change to the alternate name, "The Quilt", and we now have Quill! Quill, the poor man, is a hopeless romantic. And compared to Katai, he goes out. He touches grass. While Katai is an information broker, Quill is more or less the hacker to get the more restricted information. it's for the greater good, promise! While being a hopeless romantic, Quill is more encouraging and keep seeing the days ahead. Mellow and mature, but he can and will drag Katai to go outside and bet the stray cat at the end of the block, or go to a hole in the wall shop for some deadly good dinner. ex: Joe Gardner from Soul

And last but certainly not least, Fukuzawa and All Men Are Equal. Or in romaji, Hito! Hito is a fair and balanced man, and while Fukuzawa has his agency, Hito watches over the agency's abilities. He takes care of them and spends time with them, a silent father figure moving around as he mostly keeps to both Kochou and Suiri, but he won't hesitate to help the agency members when they need the president's opinion but the man isn't in at the time. One thing, though, about Hito. Hito is silent. Silent. No one, not even Fukuzawa, has heard the man talk. But just his presence, his aura, and his acts, it's enough comfort to help them. And if someone were to try and hurt his found family, he won't hesitate and return to old ways and hurt the perpetrator back.

9 notes · View notes