#please give the beast some money if you can

[ridingthatd]

jjk men being a sex therapist

choso, sukuna, toji, nanami, gojo, geto, megumi, yuji, etc...

contains: fem!reader, kinks, masturbation, filthiness, he's down bad like really bad, humping, dirty talk, squirting, stomach bulge, rough sex, teasing, multiple positions, virgin reader, licking, sucking, dirty, my work is really filthy, choose your character, etc..

you never thought you would be visiting a therapist, you have always thought for a long time that it's bullshit to pay someone to listen to you rent about your problems when you can do it for free? but clearly things change.

here you were at the work office of non other then your dear friend;he was a professional. a type of man who was very serious about his work. at first when you take a look at him. you would think he works as a "normal" therapist as your parents call them.

your parents were a very religious people. ever since you were young they pushed their mentality into you. so imagine their shock once they knew that one of your dear friends worked as a sex therapist. well- you can say they weren't really pleased by that.

your parents always liked him- since you first introduced them to him. they had favoured him among all of your other friends, and of course you knew why. it was because of his money.

you snap out of your thoughts once you hear firm footsteps making their way toward your small figure. your poster stiffen as he tower over you, even when he takes a seat in front of you- he still looks huge as he always do.

"sweetheart, you don't have to be nervous" his rough voice mutters out as his eyes slowly trails your shaky figure. you take a deep breath and fidget anxiously with your fingers, not knowing how to start the conversation.

HIS POV:

he was fucked. he was fucking fucked. his heart beats echos loudly through his chest, his voice caught in his throat- unable to breath, afraid his next breath would scare you- would give you a hint of what a nasty beast your friend is. his eyes piercing through your small shaky figure. the way he can see your cleavage peeking through your cute little dress everytime you take a shaky breath out.

he couldn't help the way his fat cock stiffen in his pants as his mind run a mile with filthy thoughts about you. he hold backs a groans as he stares at your small little hands- imaging the way they would feel on his throbbing cock, they you would struggle to fit his fat cock in your palm. the way you would stare at him with your innocent eyes while your hands are filled with his leaking cock.

it was always this way. ever since he met you- it felt like his life flipped upside down. he was never interested in sexual intercourse, he never felt any passion in it. ever since he started his studies, his goal was to be a psychologist. he found it interesting the way the human mind worked- that was until you fucked up his mind.

he was so confused, flustered as he stares at his hard cock. it was the first time he met you, at the bakery he always went to after an exhausting day. and here he was hiding in the bathroom with his leaking cock out of his pants, red and throbbing ready to fill his boiling sperms inside of a girl he just met. it only took one stroke to have him groaning, he felt like he was on fire. like he was some animal in heat.

he wants to cum- no he wants to cum inside of you. he wants to fill you. he wants to feel your heated skin on his boiling one. he wants to taste you. he wants his face to be dripping with your juice. he wants you to squirt on it. he wants to feel your warm walls around his fat cock. he wants to suckle on your tongue. he wants to fill your boobs with his milk and taste it on his tongue. he wants to squeeze your sensitive nipples till they leak of milk. he wants to-

his thick thighs shakes as he slides down the bathroom door. his cock shooting throbs of cum hitting his abdomen. he whines- he never felt like that, he never did something like that. he stares at his already hard cock. it was red, angry, hard again ready to spill his seeds.

that was the beginning of it all. after that he deep dived through a lot of filthy stuff. a lot of kinks. he wanted to experience all of them with you- but he knew you were to innocent for him, especially from your family background.

and here you were. at his office, innocently staring at him. he wants to jump at you- he wants to know why, how, what did you want? coming to a sex therapist? coming to him? his cock painfully throb, excited for the out come of this. excited of what you filthy things the little mouth of yours is gonna say.

"well... i- i really don't know where to start" you mutter out biting on your lips nervously. avoiding making eye contact with your friend that was sitting opposite of you. "i really don't have any experience in... in these stuff but-" you lower your voice face flushing wondering if it was the right decision to come here and say what you're about to say.

his heart stops beating. he stiffens at your words. "but?..." he's scared he won't be able to control himself. his fat cock is already doing to much.

you take a deep breath and look at his half lidded eyes before speaking out. "but I want to learn". you were sweating, nervous on what your friend is gonna think of you. "my parents think it's sinful to talk about sex and- i- and i really don't wanna talk about it with a stranger so you're the only one i have.." you shakily whisper out your words.

"fucking hell" he growls, staring at you with so much hunger as he adjust himself. man spreading his huge thighs, while leaning back his eyes never leaving your figure. "you want me to teach you baby? hm?" he questions darkly.

your face flush at the nickname he always calls you. "i- yes". you flinch at you hear his deep chuckle this is the first time you saw him smirk in such situations.

"hm? so my little baby wants me to teach her about sex? how filthy" he growls out his last words. not being able to hide how aroused he is from the whole thing. your eyes slowly trail down his figure. admiring the way he slowly remove his tie and starts to unbutton the half upper part of his blouse, before rolling up his sleeves giving you a full view of his vieny biceps and huge chest.

you let out a gasp as you stare at the outline of his pants. he follows your eyes and groans as he palms his hard cock through his pants, stroking it as he admire the way you stare at him. so shocked. so innocent. "have you ever touched yourself baby?" he breath out, panting from the heatness running through his whole body.

you didn't even pay attention to what he said, to lost at the way his fat cock was throbbing through his pants under his huge palm. "fucking hell baby- pay attention you're driving me crazy" he whines out, going crazy at the way you were starting at him lustfuly.

you eyes snap to his, heavy breath leaving your lips, before you lick them dry whispering out your next words. "i- yes". he moans out to the ceiling at your words, he was sure he's gonna cum through his pants from how much he was leaking.

"show me baby, show me how" he look at you with pleading eyes, his hands still working on his huge cock, stroking it painfully.

you don't know how it got there. your tits were spilling out of your bra, leaving your nipples hard. while your skirt was rolled up revealing your wet pussy as you stroke your swollen clit. your juice was dripping down on the leather chair of his office.

while he sits on the opposite side, stroking his fat cock, squeezing it, milking it. it was your first time seeing a mans cock this close- and god it made you so filthy. he was huge, his tip was red, sensitive as precum leaks out of it, while the base of his cock was surrounded with veins plusing, needing to spill his seeds.

"shit- pinch your nipples like a fucking slut" he growls out his words, his eyes never leaving your body, drool sliding down his red puffy lips.

maybe it’s wrong.

but right now, you don’t care.

all you care about is the way his entire body tenses when you bring one hand up to your breast and squeeze. he grips the chair with one hand while pumping his dick with the other. the wood groans, threatening to splinter. nobody’s ever looked at you the way he is now- like he wants to consume you.

"don’t stop" you moan, spreading your thighs and pulling up the hem of your skirt as your fingers seek out your pulsing cunt. "baby- fuck i can't" he whines, breathing hard, his hair was messy, cheeks and chin entirely flushed soaked with his drool.

his chair groans as he ruts against it, flushed cock smearing precum along the edge of his hands, “need more”. you whimper. that all it takes for him to stand up and make his way toward you.

you gasp as he picks you up and place you on his chair instead of yours, and the next thing he does had you whimpering from how filthy it was. he bends down on his knees in front of the chair you were stroking your clit on, and he starts licking and suckling the mess you made on the chair, licking the wetness you left.

his office was filled with the wet suckling noises and the groans he made while he licked your juice off the chair. "you gotta excuse me for this, i can't let anything go to waste" he groans out, while he stand up and make his way towards you. immediately picking you up and placing you on his lap.

your back to his chest. you can feel his fat cock leaking on your back causing you to clench your thighs together, you can feel his hot breath on your ear. you whine as he sticks his tongue into your ear, kissing and licking every inch of it while his hand slowly trail his cock and place it directly on your clit- making your pussy snuggle on his cock.

it felt so dirty- it was sloppy as he gently rock you on it, your wetness and his wetness mixing together, while the only thing you can hear was his tongue eating your ear up. you have never felt this pleasure in your life. this heatness- it felt like you were burning up alive, being drowned in pleasure and he must have felt the same way. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunts, hips jerking into sloppily.

you suddenly feeling something building up inside of you, almost like you're gonna pee. "ah- no! i wanna- i wanna pee!" you whine out trying to move, but he beats you to it, locking you into him and moving you against his cock harder. "sh, sh it's okay bbag just let it all out". and thats exactly what you do.

your eyes roll back as your body start twitcing, you scream out before your body arch and you start squirting all over his cock- it seems like it will never end. the hot steam that was leaving you.

and that’s all it takes to send him over the edge, his body swiftly shifting upward and positioning his cock to dump rope after rope of thick, hot cum all over your pussy. you whimper, cunt clenching around nothing at the filthy sight of your juice and his dripping down both of your thighs into the ground.

and here you stay in his office. the only sound that filled it was the drops of cums landing from the chair into the ground, and both your heavy breath.

i didn't know which character to put so feel free to imagine it with whomever you want :p

[retiredteabag]

soft toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - next

synopsis: Toji takes up dog-sitting for you and learns to appreciate his new job, in more ways than one.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Toji was quite accustomed to objectifying himself for a check. And to be frank, far worse actions as well. There was a point in his life where he hardly went a night without desiring to scrub himself clean, erase his mind from the meaningless actions he continually put his body through. Defiling himself for the pleasure of another. At one point he can recall being so jaded he couldn’t even enjoy the act anymore.

This is why he feels so spoiled with the jackpot of a job he found. Dog sitting was something he had never even considered, the previous Toji would have laughed at the thought; but my God, was this a steal.

Feed the beast, take’m for a walk and hang around for an hour or two? And for $75 a visit? Sold. He felt he had fallen into the lap of luxury, he never even had to deal with the rich, prissy owner (who apparently was a workaholic) but no worries, they made sure to leave him dainty notes expressing their gratitude.

“Mr. Fushiguro, I appreciate you stopping by to spend time with my boy, please don’t hesitate to have any of the food in the pantry/fridge! I’ll be back late so please feed him dinner. Thanks a ton!” - y/n

Below the note would be his cash. Sometimes it would be more if they requested him on short notice, or like today, Toji couldn’t quite figure out what they meant.

“Mr. Fushiguro, thanks again for stopping by, I know you said you weren’t busy but I feel bad taking your time on a holiday. Please get yourself a treat!”

What was today? He wondered, meandering the house to find a calendar. The beast followed him everywhere now, tail wagging happily, panting from their earlier walk, he had warmed up to toji’s presence quickly and was now quite fond of the man.

It didn’t take long into his dog-sitting tenure for Toji to feel as though it was too good to be true. The sinking feeling he felt in his gut when one day he was left space at the bottom of the owners note…

“Mr. Fushiguro, thank you for hanging out with my boy today! I apologize, I don’t have much around the house, you’re here so often, please let me know some things you like so I can have something picked up for you when you stay here.”

There was a pen resting on his money and a gap wide enough for a grocery list. Part of him wanted to request some beer, why not? They’re asking. But there was also a sense of dread that filled him.

He had left the space blank then. He was more comfortable than he can remember being, he wasn’t going to make requests. Who knows what they would ask of him?

Toji is fiddling with his money when he finally spots a desk with papers strewn, notebooks open, and a calendar with impressively organized time slots written in. He found today…

February 14… oh, yeah. Valentine’s Day. He can’t remember the last time he did anything for the holiday, now, pointless to him. He crumpled the note left for him. Yeah, he snorted at the thought I’ll get myself a treat.

Rolling his eyes he pats the dog on the head and tugs on one ear playfully. He feels unnerved but he can’t quite place it. He hates the headache he gets when he’s treated so kindly. Watching the clock reach 8 PM he makes his way to leave, grabbing a handful of grapes from the fridge. Damn, someone so wealthy, all alone on Valentine’s Day. Makes him feel lucky.

The old Toji would have killed for this job. Literally. And he wouldn’t have felt bad either. It’s almost laughable, having money in his pocket and fruit in his hand, leaving a house like this one. He won’t let himself get comfortable. Won’t let his guard down. But the time he has before times get tough again, he’ll allow himself to relax on some lonely, rich, persons sofa. Mooching off their supply of food and hot water. Waiting for the day he’s requested to give a little more of himself.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

pt. 2

@textmel8r ‘s toji smau series “sugar baby” lowkey inspired this so thank you ❤️

[winstonsns]

the gang with a soc!reader

authors note: sorry the last one was kind of all over the place. i tend to ramble when i write so ill try to stay more on topic this time. in this preference, you and the characters will already be a couple :3 im also wondering if people are clicking the hashtags then they see my posts?? so if that’s what’s happening and you can see my posts when you click the hashtags please tell me because i have no idea if it’s working LMAO

includes: ponyboy, johnny, darry, soda, dally, two-bit and steve

word count: 2.0k

warnings: mild cussing, mentions of fighting/getting jumped

PONYBOY CURTIS

you both are academic BEASTS so you’re somewhat rivals and trying to get to the top of the class

but you’re still together, it’s a healthy relationship

most of the time, you’ll actually walk him home from wherever you are since it’s safe for you to walk home on your own, but since he’s a greaser it’s not safe for him

when you met the gang they taught you how to fight in case some greasers or even some socs tried to fight you

by walking him home, you’ve actually prevented him from getting beat up

you like to take him out to get food or something he wants when he gets a good grade since he gets happy when they’re high

sometimes you’ll get lower grades than him and you two will study together, or reversed

you’ll get him a new book every time he finishes another one, by the end of the year he has a new shelf just filled with books you’ve given him

you occasionally read him to sleep when he’s having a hard time, or again reversed

he falls asleep pretty quickly when you do this and he really appreciates it

you always sit together during assemblies and choose to be each others partner in the classes you have together

if you don’t decide to do track one year you’ll go to his meets, and after you always take him out to eat since you’re proud

if he’s extra tired then he’ll ask to go home so you will

you learned how to cook so he can have big nice meals, along with baking chocolate cake when soda and darry aren’t there to make it

pony thinks you make it better than darry but will never tell him that

he really loves spending time with you and feels like you’re the first person besides johnny to really understand him

you made him think about socs in a different way too, in a good way

yall are just humans doing what you know best, some in different environments and had different parents with different parenting styles

you like to bring him to the best places in tulsa to watch the sunsets

you also get the best polaroids of the sunsets and the colors are so beautiful

JOHNNY CADE

as soon as he told the gang that he was dating someone they were excited for him, then they found out you were a soc

dally told him to break up with you without even knowing you, johnny told him to give you a chance

when johnny invited you to the curtis house to meet his friends, you brought presents for all of them since you wanted to make a good impression

you had your ways about finding what they like and don’t like

they immediately took a liking to you when you gave them presents and a kiss on johnnys cheek

you’d patch him up and give him bandaids to take home after getting beat up by socs or his parents

sometimes you’d give him money and he would use that money to get you something you’ve been wanting for a while

he’s always so thankful for everything you do for him and everything you give him

since your parents don’t really care about the differences between greasers and socs, they let johnny stay over since they know things are rough at home

sometimes they’ll take you and him out for dinner with them and you think it’s so cute

he was nervous your parents wouldn’t like him since most of the socs parents would think he’s gross

he’s always proud of you for naturally getting good grades and seeing the smile on your face when you get your report card

sometimes when he’s upset you two will cuddle in your bed or you’ll drive him to a restaurant or fast food place

he always feels bad about spending your money but you tell him not to feel bad about it since you have more

DARRY CURTIS

things got more financially stable when you came into his life

you’d help him pay groceries and the bills if he was struggling, you also helped around the house

sometimes he’ll wake up to the smell of bacon, waffles, eggs, etc and suddenly its like he doesn’t have to be the responsible one 24/7

having you in his life has improved everything, and his brothers are so thankful to have you there too

you’re like a mother to them and they’re comfortable enough to open up to you

sometimes you’ll ask him out on cute little dates randomly just so he can get a break of hard work

he’ll take the day off and get all dressed up since you told him you were taking him to a really fancy restaurant

occasionally you’ll get your nails done just for your dates and he always notices

you’ll ask him “which color is better” and he’ll say “aren’t they the same?” then you have to explain to him that one is darker than the other

he still doesn’t see the difference but chooses one anyway since he likes to see you happy

he’s literally so in love with you and how you’ll do romantic and domestic things for him

you’re so beautiful and perfect in his eyes, and sometimes he’ll stare at you and his brothers will tease him

he really loves being around you and having you by his side

you also helped him become calmer, that pony and soda have their own problems and darry yelling at them probably just makes them scared

he starts to actually communicate with them and you’ll give him gifts for completing or succeeding because why not

he’s always like “hon, you didn’t have to get me this…” but you can see he’s happy with whatever you give him

he just loves you so much and his brothers love you too but obviously not romantically

SODAPOP CURTIS

people actually think the both of you are socs, i mean they’re half right

they think soda is a soc since he’s so handsome and think you’re a soc because of your mannerisms and how you’re very beautiful

you’ll always visit him at the DX just to hang out with him

your parents love him and how he treats you so they also let him stay over at your house

sometimes when it’s sodas turn to get groceries from the store, you’ll go along with him

he just wants to be around you whenever he can

you’ll offer to pay for the groceries plus stuff he doesn’t need but instead wants

once he got a pimple and he freaked the fuck out

you bought him some cleanser, moisturizer, sunscreen and pimple patches

you taught him how to use them and when, and in which order to use them in

his pimple went away in a few days

since you’re so smart and get good grades, you’ll help pony with his homework sometimes

soda will stare at you helping him from far away, he thinks it’s adorable that you two are bonding

when the two of you are in your room, you’ll play frank sinatra and the little dippers while having a home-date with sweets :3

you two have so much fun and he even opens up to you about his problems

you offer to get him a therapist but he says it’s that bad, you tell him to talk to you if he wants to talk about it again

he legit treats you like a princess and you love it

yall are the most attractive couple EVER no one can tell if they wanna be you or be with you

DALLAS WINSTON

when he realized he liked you he knew he had to protect you with his life

he needed a break from loud and annoying girls, then he found you

you could get quiet at times and you weren’t constantly screaming and acting like an annoying 12 year old boy

you got him to steal less since you could pay for things on your own

he didn’t really listen and still stole money from other people so he could get you things

whenever he got put in prison you could always bail him out due to the money you have

if he had to serve time then you’d give him money so he could spend it and get necessities

you’ll also make diy crafts for him on your guys anniversary and his birthday

he brings you to meetups with the gang, and they love you being there with him

you spoil him rotten and he loves it

makes him feel like a princess, weirdly enough

he’ll steal money to spoil you too, pays for your nails sometimes

you told him you wanted specific flowers once and he got you flowers sometime the next week, he acted nonchalant about it but he loved the happy look on your face

TWO-BIT MATTHEWS

sometimes you’re quiet but he always finds a way to bring you to tears after laughing so hard

he’s literally the funniest person you’ve ever met

he never really expected a soc to get so loud since they were normally reserved and didn’t talk to many people

anyway you brought him to fucking disneyland once and he LOVED it

you booked a hotel and everything so yall saw mickey mouse

two-bit kinda laughed at him but he seemed happy so he didn’t care

he loves traveling with you and brags about it to the gang all the time

they say it’s cool then act like they don’t care but they’re kinda jealous he gets all that stuff

they’re happy for him though

sometimes you’ll get him little mickey figurines and he’ll put them on his nightstand, sometimes even carry it with him if it’s a keychain

he never would’ve expected a soc to be so nice to someone like him

he’s really glad that you love him and you show it

STEVE RANDLE

before you two started dating he tried to avoid you at all costs

he kinda thought you’d beat up him and his friends so he just stayed away from you

anyway when you guys started dating you’d drive him to the DX

you’d give him tips just for fun even if you didn’t buy anything from him

you’d buy him all sorts of little trinkets and such just so he’d have something to mess around with

i don’t have a lot of knowledge on him bro pls bear with me LMAO

he’s almost always with soda so you kind of became his best friend naturally

you’ll buy steve food on his breaks and drive him to restaurants or fast food places and you’ll eat on a bench or in a field together

you talk about some shit that happened at work while he listens

he’ll occasionally get you some food since he knows you like sweets

then you repay him with something he’s wanted for a while that he’s been asking for

whether it’s a book or food or a trinket idk

he loves you so much and is glad soda gets along with you so well

sorry this one’s shorter! i’ll try to make the preference longer next time. i’m gonna try to post at least twice per week but if im feeling good ill try to post more 💗 thank you for reading!

[shiorilizzy]

[Yan!Wriothesley x Reader]

Unrealistic Promised

Pairing: Yandere!Wriothesley x Female Reader

Warning: Yandere theme, inappropriate words, baby trap, overstimulation, mind-break (I guess?)

Summary: You asked to leave if he found out another girl and Wriotheselt decided to put some "sense" into your cute little brain.

After many days of running, being chased and dragged back by certain someone, you decided to give up. You bragged it up one night when Wriothesley hugged you tight as if he was afraid that you would run in his sleep. 

“Wriothesley… I want to talk…”

“Hm? Yeah go ahead, darling.” His husky voice whispered beside your ear.

“I won’t run away anymore.”

“Huh?” Wriothesley was wide awake. Was this your new plan of escape? By lowering his guard?

“Really, I really mean it. I won’t run anymore. You treat me well here anyway, but can you promise me something please?”

His arms were trembling slightly. You said the truth? Did you really decide to live beside him? Wriothesley gave you a soft smile and stroked your cheek.

“Yes darling, anything… Tell me.”

Even if you want to go out, he can do it occasionally. As long as he goes with you. He was ready to give you the whole world.

Your voice was a little bit stutter:

“Can… Can you… um… let me go with some money… when… when you get bored of me and find someone else? Please?”

“What?” He stunned. You thought he was upset because you asked for money.

“Ah… No money! I don’t need them! I-I will find a job again soon!”

Somehow he looked more annoyed and furious. But knowing you, your little cute brain must come up with some silly and unreasonable thought. So he patiently wrapped his arms around your waist, tighter.

“May I ask for reason, dear? I’m all ears.”

 “Well, I read your case last time, and I know that you have been Duke for quite a long time. So, I came up with a conclusion…”

“Uh huh?”

“That you’re an old man now.

“Uh huhhhh…….”

“Meanwhile, you are obsessed with someone like me. This means you have taste in young girls.”

“What the…” 

“But I will grow old sooner or later and become an old lady. You will get bored of me eventually and find another young, naive girl.”

“...”

“So what I asked you is: When you found out another, can you let me go please? I don’t want to live here all alone while you having your time with your new obsession. You wouldn’t want me to be around here at that time too. It’s a win-win agreement right?”

At the end of your presentation, Wriothesley’s face turned dark while his whole body trembled in fury. This is the most offensive and ridiculous accusation that he has ever heard.

He had mixed feelings right now. You really know how to push his buttons. 

Part of him was happy that you finally have feelings for him, do not want to share him. Although you may not recognize yourself now.

Part of him was excited at how you always amazed him.

Part of him was disappointed because after everything he showed you that he loves you, wanted to protect you and gave the whole world, you only thought it was some “ taste obsession”.

Part of him was furious. You dared to think that he would leave you with someone else? To accuse him that he only loves you because of your appearance and age? You dared to think of leaving him!

And excuse me WHO’S OLD???? 

Trying his best to stop trembling, Wriothesley turned on the lamp. He flipped his body, his shadow was over you. You swore you could hear him growl, like a beast before its delicious prey, preparing to eat the poor thing alive.

“Yes I can promise that as many as you want. You can leave when that day comes…”

And then your wrists were cuffed with the bed. You realized you made a big mistake when he ripped your fine expensive pajama and underwear.

“But for your information, you are not going anywhere, forever.”

He literally carved his dick into you that night. Your body was covered with bites and hickeys.

Did you think that was all?

Oh no. You were in a big misunderstood.

Not until then that you realize Wriothesley was a spiteful bastard.

Your torture continued for weeks. He would push you on the bed and make you scream his name loudly. He made you orgasm every time. He didn’t overstimulate you. He always stopped when you were on the verge of “too much” and gave you a break. But right after your body recovered, he would give you the pleasure again. Sometimes you need 2 days, sometimes you just need 5 hours, but for some fucking reason, he knew exactly when was the time to bend you. He made it feel like a session of lovers every single time, stroking you gently and whispering love words.

“I love you so much, you know that?”

“You’re my only lovely Kitten”

“Yeah… clench it tight… Good job… You’re so good…”

“Come one just once more… You can do it my love…”

“My darling… You belong to me… forever… You’re mine… mine…”

But he still held a big grudge with your words. Sometimes he will use toys and leave them for hours. You can still hear his sassy voice in your head while moaning and sobbing and begging:

“Oh dear… I’m an old man now… I don’t have much energy and strength… But don’t worry my love, these toys will help me so you won’t feel lonely. Can’t leave my young girl unsatisfied just because I’m old now huh? I will be back after I finish my work okay? And by the way because of my age so the work process may not be as fast as it used to be. But you won’t mind that right?”

Sometimes he growled and fucked you deep like a wolf in heat, your legs were on his shoulders.

“Gotta fuck a baby into you… No… babies… We will have a lot of them… If you leave… what will happen to them… huh?”

Slowly, your body was completely drained from those sexes. You cannot even walk and talk properly: your limbs trembled, your throat hoarse, your cunt was swollen and hurt. Felt like Wriothesley pulled soul from you bit by bit. He overstimulated you but did not overstimulate you at the same time. Your brain was hazy and a mess but you knew one thing: you would die if he continued

That day, when Wriothesley was about to begin his torture, you grabbed his arm and begged.

“P-Please… Wrio… not today… I’m-I’m sorry… please stop… I might die at this rate… please… I-I-I need a break… I will die if you continue… please…” You cling to him tight, afraid that he would ignore your plead and kill you with pleasure today.

But he kept his sassy voice.

“Oh darling… don’t be modest… I’m aware that I’m an old man and have little stamina. A young girl like you can take more than this.”

“NO!” You shouted, felt like losing sanity “N-No… No… You’re not old… I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I-I-I was wrong… You’re the most handsome and the strongest man I’ve ever seen… P-Please… I knew my mistake… Please I can’t take it anymore…” You cried.

Wriothesley seemed satisfied with your reaction. He hummed as he hugged you like a fragile thing.

“How about the promise? The leaving?”

You shook your head violently.

“No! No I won’t! I-I love you! I won’t leave no matter what! Because Wrio only loves me!”

He kissed you on your head.

“That’s my good girl… I love you so much… I will take care of you forever… my lovely only darling.”

Finally, Wriothesley can love you in “normal” way.

Little did you know that he only stopped because Sigewinne said you have someone in your belly now.

[ghoststyles]

Casanova

HIIIII 🤍 Here is a little piece I've been working on for a while! This is inspired by the song Casanova by Rayland Baxter. Harry is a manipulative little twat in this, so bare with me 🤍

7.5K words;

TW: SLIGHT mommy kink. He doesn't call her mommy but he calls her mama and Miss/Missy. P in V sex, oral sex, phone sex. FACETIME SEX <3 Slight mentions of suicide. EXTREME drug and alcohol abuse. Arrests, jail. the works.

ENJOY AND GIVE ME A BOOP IF YOU LIKE IT :D

______________________________________________________________

Money, all I ever want is money But I never wanna work for the money So I borrow the money from a woman

Harry Styles knew who he was from a young age. A charmer. A flirt. He uses his wits and his good looks to manipulate the people around him until they have no choice but to give in, conning them and infiltrating their lives for his own gain.

His days are simple; He sleeps until 11, combs his hair into a perfect swirl of chocolate curls, brushes his perfectly white and straight teeth, spritzes his neck with his ridiculously priced Tom Ford cologne, climbs into his Porsche Cayenne to hit the gym, and grab an $18 smoothie for the ride home. From there, he lets the day unfold how it pleases, until it’s time to go to the club with his friends. Here and there, he’ll meet up with his dealer and his bookie to spice it up. 

Rinse. Reuse. Repeat. 

As a child, Harry was dirt poor. He’d never let anyone know that, however. His perfectly curated image blossomed the minute he got to college, leaving any ounce of mediocrity behind. His friends were none the wiser, assuming Harry was there blowing his trust fund like the rest of them, when really, he was a charity case.

Every day, he’d walk to the corner store for cigarettes for his dad and cans of tuna fish, stealing a small item to try and feel something. The owner, Mr. Abbott, knew Harry stole from him, but never said a word. He’d return to their one bedroom apartment, flicking the light on, only to find the electric bill hadn’t been paid. 

His parents are not addicts or criminals, by any means. If they were, he’d at least have a touching back story. Neither of them have the drive or the desire to succeed like he does. They lived their simple lives, worked paycheck to paycheck to support him and his siblings and never worked for more. 

On the day he left for college, he vowed to himself to never let anyone see him as the poor, pathetic boy he was. He’ll put his own silver spoon in his mouth, if he must. 

So, as he sits high and mighty on his throne after doing a few lines off a pretty girl’s tits in the VIP section of his favorite club, The Viper, surrounded by his fellow socialite friends, he thinks of one person.

You.

Harry isn’t unemployed, per se, but, he doesn’t exactly have a job, either. Two years ago, at the ripe age of 21, he graduated magna cum laude from university, with top marks in all of his classes. But, he knew he didn’t want to work a traditional job. He wanted to travel, he wanted to live lavishly, and he wanted to party.

That’s where you come in. The gorgeous, alluring and kind-hearted woman that feeds the beast that is his lifestyle. He wouldn’t change it for the fucking world.

Swiping aimlessly one day on the dating apps, he stopped his scroll abruptly to study your profile. You’re perfectly curated - the collection of photos reflecting your outgoing personality and beauty. 

38. Looking for some fun. Dog mom. CEO. Let me spoil you <3

Seeking a male ages 21-28.

His eyebrow quirks. A sugar mommy? Is that a thing?

He swipes right, hoping deep down you match. This could be it. This could be his way in. The funds from his financial aid are quickly dwindling, and he’d be sooner caught dead than with a part-time job. 

He dawdles around his apartment for a few hours, pacing the room to see if you matched with him. The possibility of this arrangement is scratching an itch he’s been desperate to quell. 

He readies himself to meet his friends at the club, placing cologne on his neck and wrists. For good measure, he adjusts himself in his trousers to get a little blood flowing down there. 

As he plucks his keys from the door, he hears the familiar ping from the dating site ring out from his laptop. Stopping in his tracks, he pivots to stand at his desk. He swallows thickly before entering his passcode.

Congratulations, Casanova94, you matched with BabyHoneyxo

A dazed smile makes its way to his lips, his dimple popping significantly. This is going to be good.

Can you believe I never met her? Can you believe she never met me, too? But she calls me everyday, telling me to behave And no I never listened

Now, almost two years later, you and Harry have still never met in person. But, that’s by your request. You want a companion. A call boy. Someone who will always answer the phone when you need it. And ever since you inherited your family’s wealth and company, you want someone to spoil.

It started off slow; texts asking about one another’s day, learning about hobbies and interests. Then, the wire deposits came in. Harry wasn’t sure if he had hearts in his eyes or dollar signs. You don’t tell him how to spend the money, but you definitely drop hints.

“Get yourself a new outfit, baby. Then send me a picture,” you smiled lazily on FaceTime one night. “Maybe you can find something to match the Porsche.”

Harry chuckles boyishly, “You’re too good to me. I just went shopping last week!” 

He has you eating out of the palm of his hand. 

“I know, I know. I just want my baby boy to be happy. Can you pull yourself out for me, baby? Wanna see you,” you purr, making yourself comfortable on your king sized bed in your quiet penthouse. You’re winding down for bed, even though your lover is just getting ready for the night. 

“Mhm,” Harry responds, voice an octave higher and desperate sounding. He slides himself out, letting his cock harden slowly in his hands. “My friends will be here soon, Missy.”

“That’s okay, bubba. We’ll be quick. Mmm, look how big and gorgeous you are,” your sultry tone sends shivers up his spine. He adjusts the camera so you’re looking at his abdomen from below his thick cock. 

“My perfect boy,” you moan out as you touch your clit for the first time this evening. “Always so good for me.”

“Yes, Missy. Wanna be good for you. Can I touch myself harder now?”

“Yeah, baby, go ahead. Squeeze that big cock. Tell me when you’re close.”

At this point, you’re furiously rubbing your clit, and gently teasing a finger inside. His breaths are becoming more labored as he pumps his cock at a faster pace. You pause just before your climax, sending your heart rate to a thunderous pace you can hear the ringing in your ears. 

You look over at your phone propped up next to you to find your little love sweating and fisting himself hurriedly. The whimpers coming from the other end make the hairs on your arms stand up. After a beat, you continue the assault on your clit, starting off slow in order to reach that peak again. 

“I-I’m close, Missy. Please let me cum. I f-feel so good,” at the tail end of his begging, he moans deeply. 

“Uh-uh. Who always cums first, baby?”

“You, Mama. You cum first,” he pants, his eyes making panicked contact with yours. 

“That’s right. Good boy. I’m so close baby,” you squeak out as you stick two fingers in your cunt. You cry out, at your release, gently tweaking your nipple with your other hand.

Harry isn’t far behind, taking one last swipe over his tip, using his other hand to cup his balls. He cums all over his fist, small specks of white littering his belly. He whimpers again, barely able to open his eyes. 

“Let me see, baby,” you whisper, waiting for him to show you his load. He pans the camera silently, the haze already leaving his head. But he’d never tell you that. 

“Thank you, Missy. I feel so good.”

“Mmm, bet you do, baby. Now go clean up and have fun with your friends. I’ll talk you tomorrow. Behave!”

“Okay, I will. Goodnight.”

The minute Harry presses ‘end’, an ounce of remorse bubbles in his chest. Just an ounce. He rises from his bed to jump in the shower, ridding him of his guilt and shame. 

Sure, you’re gorgeous, and nice. But you’re not what’s getting him off. Or so he likes to tell himself. Throughout your sessions on FaceTime, Harry’s mind wanders to the girls he’s hooked up with the weekend before, and the countless drugs he’ll consume on a night out. That’s what gets his rocks off. 

You’re the means to his ends. The gateway to his wildest dreams. He’s going to hold onto you for as long as he can, even if he has to get off over the phone a few nights, or pretend to care about the philanthropy you’re supporting that week. 

Harry should be your only philanthropy, he thinks to himself. This is the easiest job he’s ever done. And it only makes it better that he can do whatever he wants, with no consequences.

As he gets out of the shower, his prick still swinging in the air, he picks up his phone to see a Venmo payment from you.

Y/N L/N paid Harry Styles - $2,000.00 - 😘

Without even hesitating, Harry, heart rate rising a bit, opens up a text field  - to his club promoter. He ignores the dozens of texts from family members over the last few weeks. He’ll make his yearly obligation call to his mother at some point.

Hey, Mike! Can we upgrade to V.I.P tonight? I can put $2K down now.

He’ll thank you later. Tonight, he’s the hero of his friend group. A slight nervousness prickles on his neck. Harry isn’t naive - he knows he should be smarter with his money - your money. But you haven’t given him any reason to believe the well will run dry any time soon. 

So far, despite your generosity, Harry still lives paycheck to paycheck. He blows his money on extravagant trips, nights out at the club, and plenty of booze and coke. It’s times he hopes to look back on one day and smile. He swears to you he’s saving the money and working towards investing and buying a house. 

Scout’s honor. 

I got a real bad feeling, I'ma let her down Got a hole in my pocket and I'm running around Spending all of her money on drugs and things To keep my mind from runnin' Back to the hole that I came from

Every night that he steps out of his apartment, he shakes the nagging feeling in his gut, the embodiment of the life he left behind. He calls his Uber Black to take him to the Viper, his little white baggy in the breast pocket of his Burberry overcoat. 

He nods to the driver when he opens his door and proceeds to pour a small line of the substance onto the screen of his phone, but not without seeing another text from you.

Mrs. Robinson 🤍: Enjoy the night, sweet boy! Be safe xo

Harry smiles to himself at your contact in his phone. You all but had a fit when you found out he’d never seen The Graduate. Once he saw it, his world changed.

Swiping away your message, he plugs up his nostril, inhaling sharply as he moves his face over the surface of the screen. He grunts lightly, throwing his head back and shaking it out. That should hold him over until they’re in their secluded area of the club. 

The car pulls up to the club around 11:45, the house music already bumping. The line looks brutal. He scans it to see if he spots any 10s waiting that can keep him company later. Miles, Marquise and Jade are already inside at their table.

The bouncers greet Harry, bumping his fist and patting him on the back. He can feel the eyes of the nobodies in line glaring at him enviously. When you spend the average person’s salary in one night at the club, you eagerly reap the benefits. 

As he’s escorted through the crowd by the five-foot-nothing hostess, his senses are on high alert. He can hear his heart beating over the music and can feel the bass shaking the floors. He smiles tightly at the girl as she leads him to his table and scurries back into the crowd. 

Marquise and Miles, his best friends from undergrad stand to greet him, as Jade greets him from the lap of her catch of the day, a burly, bearded dude already glowing from sweat and the 8-ball they’re about to dig into. 

Taking his first swig of the Don Julio his regular bottle service girl, Tasia, pours into his mouth, he cracks a wicked smile, convincing himself there’s no where else he’d rather be.

Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from And I don't ever want to go back

~

“So,” you start quietly on your daily FaceTime coffee date. You’re perched in your home library’s windowsill. “I was thinking of flying you in for my 40th. It’s going to be pretty chill. I’ll probably hire a chef and have a dinner at my place. Maybe 15-20 people.”

Harry is cocooned in a blanket on his bed, his iced coffee you had DoorDashed to his apartment slowly melting on his bedside table. His eyes had slowly drifted shut as he listened to you talk about everything and nothing. That’s how these things went — you talk and he listens. You’re after his companionship, after all.

At your words, his eyes shoot open, causing him to try and sit up gently so he can hear you better, not believing what you’re saying. Inhaling, he hesitates before he starts to reply. 

“Uh, um,” he bites his lip and looks at himself in the corner of the screen, trying to gauge if he looks as shocked as he sounds. “W-when are you thinking? I have a couple trips coming up and plans with my friends.”

He decides to play it cool. You have to know this is a huge development in this arrangement, right?

“Well, my birthday is the 27th, obviously.”

He scoffs, “I knew that part, Miss. When is the party?”

“Watch the ‘tude, baby. I was hoping for that Saturday, maybe. But I’d be willing to work around what you have coming up.”

He’s lying through his teeth. He doesn’t have major travel plans until the summer, when his friend group will jet off to Greece. He’s been saving up your pennies to charter a private plane.

“Don’t agree to it now, but please think about it. I love spending time with you and I’d love to finally meet you. We can tell my family that you’re part of one of my philanthropy groups. I’m your largest donor, after all,” you stick your tongue out at him.

“Okay, let me get myself together for the day, and I can see what’s going on,” Harry grits out, trying not to let you down. 

“Okay, baby. Have a good day. Let me know if you get up to anything fun,” you say with a mild hurt in your tone. The least he can do is make an effort to finally meet you.

“Will do. Bye, Miss,” He says quietly, swiftly hanging up the call and chucking the phone towards his pillows. 

“Fuck!” 

Hm, Casanova You know that I'm a casanova Throw my pennies in the well Waking up in jail 'Cause I never paid attention Do you remember all the good times? Do you remember all the bad times too? She reminds me everyday, telling me to behave And no I never listened

~

You didn’t let him off the hook that easily. Every day that passes as your birthday party looms, you mention flights, or activities you can do once he arrives. Harry laughs them off, distracting you by touching himself or telling a story from his gatherings with friends. 

It’s not until you’re barking orders at him over the phone, 1 week before your party, denying his orgasm that he finally relents. 

“Miss, please, I-I need to cum,” he whimpers as he has a ghostly touch over his angry, red cock. “P-please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything, hm? I want my pretty baby at my birthday party. Wanna show you off and whisper filthy things in your ear and feel that pretty cock under the table. Agree to fly out to me and I’ll let you cum, baby.”

“Miss,” he croaks out, his stomach in shambles trying to stop himself from coming for the third time. “Okay, okay, Mama, I’ll go. I-I’ll come for your birthday! Please let me cum.”

You all but squeal in delight, instructing him to finally let go. Talking him through it, he keens from your praises for following the rules. A nervous heat travels up his neck, realizing what he agreed to in his post-nut clarity. 

“Good boy. Take a picture before you clean up, okay? I’ll talk to you in the morning and I’ll have my assistant send over your travel information.”

He nods, unable to make eye contact. You’re oblivious and overjoyed, thinking he’s just too fucked out to look at you. 

“G’night, Missy,” he chokes out. 

“Goodnight, sweet boy,” you hum before hanging up.

Harry snaps a photo of his messy left fist and cum-covered stomach before cleaning himself up and returning to bed. He eagerly picks up his phone to check his dating apps for his matches. He’d been talking to a new girl, Madelyn, for the past week, so excitement bubbles in his stomach. 

She’s meeting him and his regular group at the Viper tonight, so he’s excited to show off to her. Maybe she’ll even be down for a romp in the back seat of his Porsche.

His phone pings, signaling another deposit from you.

Y/N L/N paid Harry Styles - $5,000 - Can’t wait to see you 😘

He smiles, his right thumb picking at the skin of his ring finger. The guilt he feels from abusing your kindness starts to eat at him. But he didn’t get this far by being nice to people. You can’t possibly have feelings for him, right? You haven’t even met, for god’s sake. He shivers, shaking the feeling so he can focus on the night ahead. 

Pushing you far, far in the back of his mind. 

~

It’s now the night before your 40th birthday party, and you’re buzzing with excitement. Your penthouse is decorated in pink and floral frill - almost like your Great Aunt Gertrude exploded - but it’s chic and will be a hit amongst your New York City socialite friends. Your party planner floats around the room, puttering with the florals, candles and gem stones scattered around. 

You anxiously check the time, counting down the hours until Harry boards his flight from LA. He’s jumping on a red eye, so you’ll greet him with coffee and donuts when he lands. A pang of nervousness hits you as you remember how distant he was this week, saying he was busy with friends or doing god knows what an unemployed 23 year old does in Los Angeles.

Monday, 3:31 PM

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Sorry, missy. I’ve been at Miles’ art showing all day.

Wednesday, 11:27 AM

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Sorry! At the gym with Do Not Disturb on. Hey, can you send me some cash? Last min car maintenance 😢

Friday, 5:58 PM

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Hi missy. My friends want to go to the opening of the new Carbone out here. Think your friends can get us a table? It’ll be 9 of us. 

Hope your dad’s chemo appointment went okay.

You can’t be mad at the little monster you’ve let him become. You are always an after thought as his only priority is making sure the cash cow is alive and well. He extends effort just enough to make the butterflies in your stomach reappear when he does give you the attention you crave. 

Inhaling deeply, you ascend up the grand staircase in your Upper East Side brownstone and begin your pampering routine, sending photos to Harry of the hydrating eye patches on and curlers in your hair, blowing kisses and sticking out your tongue. 

Typically, Harry answers relatively quickly to your silly messages, but, tonight, he’s gone radio silent. Maybe he’s trying to conserve his phone battery for the flight? 

You open your medicine cabinet to examine your fast-acting anti-anxiety pills, hoping you can will away this uneasy feeling. Padding over to your bed, you pop your pills before tucking into your silk sheets. Before putting your phone on the charger, you send Harry one last message.

Mrs. Robinson 🤍: Safe flight, baby ♥️ I’ll be tracking you, but tell me which terminal when you land. Can’t wait to see you 😚

Flicking out the light, you close your eyes with the hopes of finally meeting your lover in just twelve hours.

~

I got a real bad feeling I'ma lose my cool Everywhere that I go, everything that I do Stop me using the money on drugs and things To keep my mind from runnin'

Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from And I don't ever want to go back

Ping!

Harry, Delta airlines can’t wait to welcome you aboard Flight 0723 to JFK, departing 18:35

Ping!

You may now board Flight 0723 to JFK, departing 18:35. Welcome aboard, Harry.

Harry’s leg is bouncing uncontrollably as he watches the busy bodies move around him. Despite his social butterfly nature, his social anxiety rears its ugly head every once in a while. Or, it could be tonight’s concoction of pills.

He places his phone on Do Not Disturb, just as he gets a text from you. Closing his eyes in defeat, he comes face to face with the awful, shameful and downright despicable choice he’s made.

He’s not going to New York.

Instead, he’s standing booth side at a club next to John Summit, his favorite DJ, as he passes around a bottle of 1942. The pills he’s on are plastering a wide smile on his face as the throng of bodies around him jump around, despite the absolute panic and guilt he feels in his veins. 

He’s wondering when you’ll realize he’s not coming. The lack of texts? The empty escalator to the pick-up area well after the flight has landed? He can picture your cherub cheeks reddening with embarrassment, fighting back hot tears.

To distract himself, he leans down to capture the blonde girl to his left in a kiss, despite not even making eye contact with her prior. When she peers up at him, her pupils are just as dilated as his as they sway back and forth.

He kisses her once more, just as Marquise offers him another baggie.

~

The panic sets in about 30 minutes after his flight landed. Surely that’s enough time to grab his bag and meet you here, right?

Your eyes urgently scan over every person that walks by probably sending them into fight or flight as a deranged woman looks them over in search for her boy. 

You look down at your phone, the background a photo of your dog, completely clear of any notifications. With vigor, you throw out the box of donuts and his iced black Americano. Swallowing your pride, you skulk back to the parking lot to cry in the safety of your car. 

You feel like a loser. A pathetic middle-aged woman who got fooled by a man half her age. The mental gymnastics that takes place as you drive home with white knuckles on the steering wheel should have you committed. 

Your dating life wasn’t easy. It started in high school, where you were invisible to the boys, always deemed not good enough to date. Extending through college, you were still nearly invisible, working over time to find just one guy to have any interest in you and take your virginity. Just to get it over with. 

As the dating scene expanded in your 20s, you still struck out with men your age. It wasn’t until your late 30s when your hopes and dreams of a family came crashing down on you that you’d made that godforsaken dating profile. 

You still remember how your heart skipped a beat when you saw Harry’s photo for the first time. His boyish charm was palpable, followed by his incredibly witty prompt answers. He was your solution. If you couldn’t earn someone’s love, you could at least buy it. 

The lump in your throat is preventing you from calling him and leaving the fiery voicemail you so want to do. You assume he’ll ignore any calls from you anyway.

Pulling into your private garage, you let out your frustrations by wailing and smacking the steering wheel of your Bentley. To prying eyes, the cops should be called. You allow yourself to flip for 5 minutes before putting on a brave face and going inside to begin getting ready for your birthday party, ringing in another year of heartbreak and disappointment. 

~

3 glasses of a 1982 Cabernet Sauvignon. That’s how much alcohol it took to have you crying in front of your friends and family. 

You couldn’t tell them what was really wrong, of course. They have no idea about your and Harry’s arrangement. They’d call you an idiot if they knew how much money you’ve sent him.

Everyone is shooting you sympathetic looks as you cry on your best friend’s shoulder. For all they know, you’re stressed with work and your dad’s cancer diagnosis. It’s a lot of pressure on a single woman. 

Rubbing your back, Candice whispers all the affirmations she’s been telling you since college. It’s incredibly annoying to get advice from someone whose life is perfect. 

You quietly thank her, clearing your throat of the lump that’s formed. Looking around the room, you make a break for it, grabbing your phone as you lock yourself in the guest bathroom.

Tears blurring your vision, you dial his number for the first time all day. It rings and rings, finally sending you to voicemail, as you’d suspected.

You’re silent for a beat after the beep. 

“I-I don’t even have words for how I’m feeling right now. I was so fucking excited to see you…feel you….kiss you. And instead I’m locked in a bathroom at my own birthday party, calling you like a fucking loser,” you start, snot threatening to drip down your face. 

“I give, and I give and I give, and yet you still let me look like a fucking idiot in front of my friends and family. You couldn’t do one fucking thing for me? You…You didn’t even have to put any effort. I paid for a car service, paid for a first-class seat, bought you a wardrobe…”

“I just hope whatever the fuck you’re doing right now is worth it. I don’t ask questions about what you do with my money, since I’m the one who started this. B-but I thought you were a decent person. I feel so fucking stupid right now,” you are talking to yourself at this point. You shakily inhale and stare at the ceiling. 

“We’re done. I’m done with your bullshit. I’m not gonna let some ungrateful brat take advantage of me anymore. Have a nice life, Harry. Hope you have to move back to bumblefuck and lose all the friends you’ve been lying to this whole time,” you end off the message with pure venom leaking through your words.

You press end, feeling slightly better that you’d used his deepest darkest secret as ammunition. The mirror in front of you shows a shocking picture; running mascara, watery, red eyes, and disheveled hair.

Patting some toilet paper under your eyes, you clean up the best you can before returning back to the party. If you were strong, you’d block his number. But you can’t help but wonder what his response could be.

~

He deserves it. It’s 4:40 AM and he just mustered the courage to listen to your message. His under eyes feel heavy as he listens to your words, hitting him where it hurts. His hands are shaking as he lowers the phone to his lap, drowning out the sound of your sad, heartbreaking voice. 

5 years ago, he was a decent person. Now, he looks in the mirror and sees his slightly gaunt face and tired eyes staring back at him. He even notices a few gray hairs every once in a while. 

His lifestyle takes a toll on him — He’s well aware of that. But for now, he has no reason to stop. Harry lightly smacks his head back on the seat of the Uber back to his apartment. Cracking the window, he lets the sounds of the early morning deter him from vomiting.

The car arrives at his apartment — a guest house in Hidden Hills, the only place he can afford with the zip code he desires so badly. He never brings anyone to his place, too paranoid of his secrets getting out. Vision doubling, he struggles to stick his key in the lock. He knees the door has he twists the knob, sending him tumbling flat on his face. 

Smacking his head on the tile floor, he recoils, lifting his hand to feel droplets of blood on his nose and bottom lip. The metallic taste is leaking into his mouth, sending him into a spiral. His front door is still wide open, allowing him to see the sun peaking over the hills in the distance. 

He crawls over to the threshold, slamming the door shut with his foot. He lays back down on the cool floor, exhausted from his efforts. His breathing evened out, lulling him into a comatose state before succumbing to the darkness.

But before he passes out, all he can picture is your gorgeous, disappointed face.

I'm back in the hole I got nowhere to go La la la la, la, la Spinning around In the cold dark hole deep down in the ground Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from

The thing about rock bottom is that you don’t realize you’ve hit it until you’re clawing your way back to the top.

In the days following your fallout, Harry’s experienced enough misfortunes to last a lifetime. It started off with his credit card declining on a $6 breakfast sandwich, only to come back hungry and sad to his car being repossessed in front of all the Hidden Hills housewives out and about. 

The panic rises in his chest, and it’s taking everything in him not to call you and beg for forgiveness. He’s come to realize how fucked up his actions towards you became. He misses the butterflies and longing he felt when you first started your arrangement. 

He stomps back inside, miserable and feeling like a loser. If it wasn’t for Marquise’s birthday party later, he’d be sure to go dive in the ocean in hopes of never resurfacing. 

His closet is taunting him — full of the clothes you’ve bought him. He can remember every single piece he tried on for you, and the praise you were so quick to give him. He never reciprocated when you’d show him new pieces and showing off your incredible body. But, you hadn’t called him out on it, so he continued on. 

The all black outfit he chose reflects his mental state. Filled with dread and remorse, he pulls out his kitchen drawer to peruse the substances he has left. His stash is dwindling as fast as his bank account, so he has to be strategic until he figures out his next move. 

Grabbing the baggies, he situates them in the breast pocket of his jacket to conceal everything. They’re going to a new club tonight, so there’s no being saved by the bouncers if shit goes south. 

The party goes off without a hitch. Bottles pouring, dancers hanging from the ceiling, and an influx of out of town girls willing to do anyone and anything. Harry has nearly pushed you completely out of his mind, but he does something completely out of character.

~

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: I’m sorry.

You’re at a wine bar with your girlfriends in the Village, and the message you receive shakes you to your core. You haven’t heard from him in days. Not even after you repossessed the car and canceled his credit card tied to your account. You thought for sure that would smoke him out of his foxhole. But, he’s Harry. He’s selfish and too full of pride to ever come forward and apologize.

Your friends notice the faltered look on your face, but opt to ignore it as they bitch about their husbands and kids. Despite your fleeting dreams of having a family, most of the time you’re thankful you can’t relate to them. 

Turning off your phone, you throw it in your new Kelly bag — a little treat to get over the heartbreak — and return to the conversation.

~

He doesn’t even remember how it went down. 

The last clear memory he has is being escorted out of the club to go back to Marquise’s. The combination of coke and alcohol, plus this week’s tumultuous events had him on edge, so when the unfamiliar bouncer at this mediocre club grabbed him wrong, it sent Harry into a frenzy. 

To match his bloody nose and busted lip, his knuckles are now decorated with crusty amber smatterings of blood — his own, and the bouncer’s. His jaw and wrist were aching, still mouthing off like a rabid animal as the cop read him his Miranda rights. 

So now, he sits in a cold cell in the county jail awaiting his arraignment — a seemingly straight forward assault and battery charge, now amplified by the 40 grams of cocaine and Adderall in his coat pocket. The bastard cop smiled to himself when he patted him down. Harry will give him this one, the rinkydink small town cop who is used to giving out traffic violations. 

Tired, in dire need to piss, and on the verge of a mental breakdown, Harry’s head snaps up when the officer notifies him of his bail — a measly $75,000 — and lets him know he has one phone call. Balling his fists, he looks up at the ceiling.

“Fuck!”

The cop assists him in standing up. His wrists are chained together behind his back, after all. Releasing him from the confines, Harry rubs his wrists where the cheap metal chafed him.

“You have 5 minutes to make a call. Do you know the phone number or do you need me to access your cell phone?”

Harry scoffs. Who the fuck still memorizes phone numbers?

“Phone,” he replies, a clear edge in his voice. 

“Whose contact am I looking for? Mom, Dad?”

“Fuck’s sake. No, I need the number of,” Harry pauses suddenly as he remembers your name in his phone. 

“Mrs. Robinson,” he finishes quietly.

The cop raises his eyebrows, but says nothing, and reads the number aloud to him. It rings, and rings, diminishing any hope that you’ll answer. It’s in this moment Harry is at his rockbottom.

“Hello?”

~

“This is a collect call from the Department of Corrections for the City of Los Angeles. An individual is trying to contact you. Do you wish to answer?”

You gasp as the automated voice informs you of your worst nightmare.

“Hello?” you say quietly. It’s 8:15 AM, and you’re at the cafe on the corner for a latte and reading, trying not to disturb those around you. 

“M-missy?” His voice sounds broken. It sends a stabbing pain straight through your chest. 

“Harry, what happened? What did you do?”

“I-I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. N-not just with you. I know I fucked everything u-up,” he’s starting to sob, unable to catch his breath between words.

“B-but I got into a pretty bad fight last night, and I had some,” Harry pauses to look over his shoulder to make sure the officer isn’t listening. He wipes the tears in his eyes with his thumb. “I had some stuff on me, so now I’m in a lot more trouble. A-and I know I fucked everything up and I don’t deserve anything from you, but I don’t have enough money for bail.”

You sigh, not really even sure where to begin. Tears are threatening to spill over as you hear his clearly broken sobs. 

“How much do you need?”

At this point, Harry hung his head at your silence. He snaps his head back up when you agree to help him.

“It’s $75,000.”

“Jesus, Harry, what the fuck did you do?”

“I don’t even know, I barely have any memory of—”

“Five minutes, inmate!” the officer interrupts him.

Harry rolls his eyes and continues. 

“I’m not sure what happens next. B-but thank you, Y/N. I know I don’t deserve this in the slightest.”

You shiver at his use of your first name. Closing your eyes, “I know you don’t. Just tell me who I need to call.”

~

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you mutter as you hear your incessant doorbell ring. It’s 6 in the morning, just a few days after you paid Harry’s bail. You’ve been laying low, unsure if you’ll even hear from him again. 

Your doorman, Paul, informs you of a visitor. A visitor? At this time? Unable to even comprehend what’s going on, you press the button to confirm opening the door, and wait. 

Your bunny slippered feet tap your coffee table anxiously. Is it your mom? Here to inform you of someone’s death? Or is it your best friend from college who couldn’t come to your party? Or is it —

You’re broken from your racing thoughts as a timid knock on the door echoes through the house. You shuffle hesitantly over to the door, unable to even bring yourself to look through the peephole. 

Closing your eyes while pulling open the door, the absolute wind is knocked out of you as you eye up your waiting guest. 

He’s tall, tanned and gorgeous as his photos. It’s unfair to look like this after stepping off what she assumes was a red eye flight. He looks exhausted. His lip and nose are busted, and he has a yellowing bruise on his left eye.

“W-what?” you flounder in disbelief.

His hands fold together at your reaction, unsure if he should hug you or keep a respectable distance. He opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself. He’ll play by your rules.

“What the fuck is going on?” 

You look adorable. The sleep barely wiped from your eyes. Slight bed head and disheveled silk pajamas. Harry is in disbelief that this is the woman he’s come to realize his feelings for.

“I know this is so fucked up,” he trails off. “Coming here. I don’t deserve even a minute of your time, but I needed to come here and tell you how fucking sorry I am. How deep into the superficial bullshit I got. I took advantage of you and your kindness and I lost myself in the process.”

You must look flabbergasted, because he inches closer, placing his hands gently on your arms. His touch is searing, but the first reminder that he’s actually standing in front of you and not an extremely lifelike apparition. 

“I-I,” you stumble.

“We don’t even have to talk right now. You can send me away, if you need. But I’m here, I’m here in New York and I want to change. I want to be better for you. These last few days— when I had absolutely nothing — made me realize something.”

His eyes are now earnest and starting to tear up. Your reflection is so clear in his tide pool green irises. 

“I had nothing, and it made me realizing you’re my everything.”

His profession had you clutching your metaphorical pearls. Your heart is racing, sending your central nervous system into a tizzy. You know he’s not lying, because he’s looking dead in your eyes waiting for your reply.

“H-Harry, I don’t even know what to say,” you stall. Your body knows what it wants to say.

“I know and like I said, if you need time, I underst—”

“If you’re here and you’re not bullshitting me; you really want to change. Then, you’ll fuck me like it.”

If Harry’s jaw could drop to the basement, it would. Instead of word vomiting, he lunges forward, guiding both of your bodies back to the hallway and placing a panty-dropping kiss on your lips. He doesn’t even have time to admire your beautiful home.

You break the kiss, grabbing his wrist to lead him to your room. The sheets are mussed, your clothes are all over, but you can’t even begin to fucking care. You all but dive back onto your bed, pulling your nightgown up to reveal your bare, perfect pussy. 

Harry drops to his knees, wrapping his hands around your thighs. The photos and the FaceTimes don’t do any justice to the sight in front of him. You’re complete and utter perfection. 

He waits for your approval before leaning forward to lick from back to front. Your back arches slightly, throwing your ankles over his shoulder. His fingertips dig into your skin deliciously, so you grab onto your blankets for dear life. 

“Give it to me, Missy. I’ve been waiting two years for this perfect cunt. What the fuck was I waiting for?”

You laugh, not expecting his sense of humor at this moment. For the last few months, it’s been like talking to a robot. It was an exchange of goods and services. But here, in front of you, is a man. A man who’s willing to change his ways for you. The man you’ve waited all your life for. 

“Always here for you. It’s yours,” you purr, placing your hands on top of his. 

He growls, vigorously licking into you. He removes his right hand to insert his two middle fingers into your center. This has you howling, unable to even remember the last time a man did this for you. 

“Baby, baby. I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum for you, finally,” you whine, focusing on the immeasurable pleasure stemming from your legs. 

“Mhm, I can feel you, Mama. Let go for me,” he begs, making direct eye contact with you. 

It’s the moment you lock eyes that you’re letting go. All the stars are aligning and symphonies are playing in your head.

“Ah, ah! There, Harry!”

Harry keens at hearing his name roll off your tongue. He slides up your body to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. You grab at his under shirt, insinuating that you want it off.

He peels it off and cheekily pulls your tit out of your nightie. He winks before connecting his lips to your nipple, rolling his tongue around the bud and sucking gently. 

“Please, want you inside me. Gimme my big cock, baby.” 

“It’s yours, Mama. All of me.”

Harry slides his briefs down his legs, revealing the main event. His dick swings slightly before hitting him in the stomach. You moan, unable to wait even another minute for him.

“Please,” you cry out, scratching down his chest. 

He lines himself up, moaning in ecstasy as he pushes in. Your mouth falls open, a silent whine escaping. 

“So big, baby. I should’ve flown out to you the minute you sent me a dick pic. Like a fucking middle schooler.”

Now Harry is laughing. He’s in disbelief that he would ever treat you the way he did. The clarity from the last few days is damning.

His pumps are getting faster and longer, bottoming out every other thrust. He looks down to where you’re connected, your pussy lips wrapped around him deliciously, a slight white substance leaking out of you. He leans down to kiss you, wanting this connection he’s subconsciously wanted since he met you. 

“Want you to cum with me, Missy. Cum with me. Want to show you I mean it. I mean everything I said.”

You gently put your hand on his cheek, to which he immediately nuzzles in at the touch. 

“I know you mean it, baby. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

He nods, leaning down to kiss you again, his thrusts slowing but still ramming you to the hilt.

“You close?”

“Yes, baby boy. Cum with me, I’m cumming now.”

Harry’s cock twitches as he bumps your walls before releasing long and deep into you. You push your noses together, lips ghosting over one another’s. 

Harry is finally home. 

“You’re gonna fucking pay for this, little brat.”

He flashes a shit eating grin, kissing you again.

“I expect nothing less.”

And I don't ever Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from And I don't ever want to go back

[tojislittlelambie]

ᨳ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ TOJI x FEM ! READER — 𖥻 4 ྀིა

summary : big crowds are always a challenge, but you can trust toji to never let that come in the way of your enjoyment ♡

cw : depiction of anxiety, big crowds, hurt/comfort, fluff

when would you learn from your mistakes ? you had so confidently told toji that you'd get you both those crepes you had been ogling ever since you arrived at the fairground, since he had already been kind enough to come with you, disregarding his despise for pointless events such as that. he obviously had shown some opposition at first, brows slightly furrowed over his loving gaze, but had to give in at your smile, oozing with confidence.

but you had overestimated yourself once again it seems. it has already been over twenty minutes you've been staying under the scorching sun, surrounded by strangers too close for your comfort, the sweat making you feel gross and both the heat and the crowd making the bile rise up to your throat. you just wanted this to be over with already, having since long lost any appetite.

after an eternity, your turn finally comes. the sudden pressure of having to actually speak out with all the people in the back sends your heart into a frenzy and you have to clear your throat before opening your mouth. but, just as you're about to speak up, a kid beats you to it. "two Nutella crepes please !"

your mouth falls shut as you watch his order being made, clutching the bills into your clammy palms anxiously.

"next one !"

you take one step forward, speaking softly, "two crepes with nutela pl-"

"one with sugar please !" a man asks, his loud voice overlapping yours, drowning your words.

your breathing becomes ragged as you struggle to inhale deeply, the feeling of being invisible paralyzing you. and you stay there for what feels like an eternity, eyes blurring with tears, watching as people take their orders, walking away one after the other.

then you think of toji who must be waiting for you and your heart squeezes painfully as you exhale a shaky breath and gather the courage to try and speak once more.

the words stay stuck in your throat until a big, calloused hand appears on your waist, bringing you closer to a broad and protective chest you knew every inch of. you let out a sigh of pure relief, closing your eyes as you feel his fingers reassuringly squeeze your side. it's alright, I've got you, doll.

"my girl asked for two crepes with nutella, and she'd like 'em right.now." toji barks, his chest grumbling like a beast of its own under your ear.

"there are people waiting in the line-"

toji's warmth leaves you as he takes as step forward, towering over the vendor with a dark glare. "did y'say sumthin' ?"

you can feel the weight of the stares on you both. you tug at the hem of toji's compression shirt. "It's okay, let's go..."

he takes your hand in his and holds it to his side, turning to look at you briefly and you miss the way his gaze softens at the visible discomfort. "no it ain't, doll. you're getting your motherfuckin' crepes, and you're getting them right away or God fucking help me." he snarls, banging his fist against the counter to emphasize his words as the man behind it hurries to finish making the sweets before handing them over. toji throws him the money and doesn't let go of your hand as he leads you away from the crowd.

toji would better die than watch you so obviously anxious because a nobody thought he could ignore you. nah, not on his watch. and anyone making you uncomfortable is fated to the same treatment.

[dotster001]

Daddy End

Previous Chapters: One Two Three Choose Another Ending

Please see me after class

That's what was scrawled on the top of your paper.

"What did you do?" You hissed at your kitty companion, who was usually the reason you had to stay after class. If you could go back in time, you would tell yourself not to accept "beast tamer" as a title.

"Nothin'" he hissed back. "Maybe you're the one who messed up this time."

"Not likely," you hissed back, before seeing Crewel giving you a disapproving stare. You turned back to your cauldron, deciding to grill your roommate later.

"Everything okay?" Alano, your lab partner from Octavinelle, asked.

"Yeah, Crewel just wants me to talk to him after class."

"Do you want me to wait for you?"

"No, but I appreciate the offer. It means a lot."

You gave him a reassuring smile, and he nodded skeptically, before adding another item to the cauldron.

After a tense 45 minutes, the class cleared out, and you stood before Crewel's desk. He sat back in his chair for a moment, and sighed.

"As I understand it, I haven't been chosen to be your husband, by your cat."

"Wha-" you started, but he cut you off by pressing a red gloved finger to your lips.

"No, no, it's alright, pup. If I am truly not worthy, then I shall have to accept that."

His finger to your lips turned into a gentle caress, ending with his hand resting on the side of your neck. Your head was spinning, as his cologne clouded your senses. After a pause, he gave another heavy sigh, before saying in a low voice,

"But if you ever change your mind, and want to give me a second chance," he gently squeezed your neck, not enough to hurt you, just enough to send a shiver up your spine, before slowly pulling his hand away, "Even just for one evening, where I can feed you the finest of delicacies and dress you in the finest of clothes, and simply bask in your presence, you know where to find me."

He sat down, and began working on papers, as though he hadn't just told you that your kitty roommate had ignored your orders not to sell you off, while simultaneously making you wish he'd sold you off, specifically to him.

"Um, professor?" Your tongue was lead in your mouth, and you felt like you'd need to drink a lot of water with how dry your mouth felt.

"Divus, my pet."

He wasn't even looking up at you. You made an attempt to clear your throat.

"D-Divus, I don't know anything about what you're talking about…"

He gave an unenthusiastic hum.

"But I wouldn't be opposed…"

Another hum.

"That is, if you wanted to…"

He looked up at you, face blank. Your cheeks started to burn, and you prayed to whatever was out there that he didn't know how flustered he had made you. You weren't that lucky, though. You were pretty sure he knew.

"You know…" you finished, pretty much below a whisper.

He stared at you for a moment, before gasping.

"Could it be, my favorite pet feels the same as I do?" He stood, his eyes widening. "Could it be, I still have a chance with you?"

He reached out his hand to cup your cheek, before faltering, and holding it in place. You gently took his outstretched hand in yours, giving it a light squeeze.

He smiled a gentle, relieved smile, and it struck you how he wasn't that much older than you really. He still was just a lovestruck school boy, who'd happened to be smart enough to graduate earlier than some, and rose through the ranks quickly, probably due to some money saving scheme of Crowley's. He seemed just as nervous about asking you out as you were about him.

"I know this classy little pasta restaurant. It's not overly luxurious, but still fancy. Would you meet me back here in an hour, so we could go together?"

There was that schoolboy light in his eyes again.

You nodded, and he kissed the back of your hand, before gently shooing you out.

You were far too flustered to notice Grim and Crowley standing in the doorway and glaring at Crewel.

"And that's how it's done, gentlemen," Divus said with a smirk, once you were out of earshot. He grinned at Grim.

"Don't worry too much about it, kitty, you'll have plenty of riches and deluxe tuna from me, even though it hurt dreadfully to know you didn't pick me."

Crowley pouted even deeper.

"You're lucky I'm so generous, or…"

"Or what? Face it, Dire, we both know who the better sugar daddy is here."

And with that he brushed past both of them, humming a happy little tune to himself as he prepared for his date.

The End

[galedekarios]

this is a personal vent post so please let me just get it all out without trying to come at me lol:

so many ppl saying they respect larian's decision to peace out and not deal with hasbro/wotc, but i have to be honest, i don't respect them at all.

they are leaving a game behind that is unfinished and a narrative mess.

they leave a game behind where everyone paid the same amount of money for it, yet depending on which character you prefer, you get less content.

the disparity between everyone else and their writer's pet ast*rion is insane. he has a half to a third more content depending on which character you compare him to.

they leave behind a sparse act 2, which is already so barren compared to act 1 and all it had to offer. act 3 is a narrative mess and lacks structure.

they leave a game behind where they made promises a handful of weeks before release where they ought to have known that they, in fact, will not be delivering said promises: access to the upper city, consequences for playing certain races across the acts (playing a drow is going to be different in act 1 and gives you advantages vs act 3 where it would give you understandable disadvantages), etc etc etc.

they leave behind a game where content was cut from the companions to make it seem like the origins have something to offer when that system is barely able to compare what origin playthroughs offered in dos2 and it hurts the game and the experience (like tara being cut for companion gale).

they leave behind a game where they promised to much variety and proclaimed in panels from hell how they struggled to show the width and depth of the game, but really? it's about as deep as a puddle. a lot of the choices do not matter. kill ethel? nah, she's alive and well in the city. no sister hags to be angry here. give karlach no infernal iron and never talk to her at all? doesn't matter, she'll survive until the end of act 3 and will still call you her bff. dissuade gale to use the orb? we'll make sure he'll still offer 3 more times just in case. send yenna away from camp bc you don't want her there? doesn't matter, she'll stay. and yes, i'm aware these are all small things, but they are part of a larger problem. almost nothing you do truly matters to the point of where i just skip most things in act 1 and 2 now.

they leave behind a game that they promise to still patch, but some things have been broken since early access / release to the point of where i'm like i'm sorry, but your word that you will continue to patch things means about as much to me as all the other empty promises. the dialogue about morena dekarios is still broken and it's been over half a year now. the astral sea scene has low-res body textures for months. i know from mutuals who love minthara that her romance is still broken. and i could go on and on.

and what gets me the most about this is all is that they have learned nothing at all from dos2: act 3 of that game was so bugged and all over the place that i couldn't muster up the motivation to finish it the first time i played. they neglected a character to the point of where he could have been removed from the game or made a general hireling (beast).

those issues were at least attempted to be fixed in the definitive edition.

with swen saying that there will be no new content anymore and stating that both bg3 and its characters are now property of wotc/hasbro, it seems unlikely we'll even get an attempt of a fix.

so what this boils down to to me is just another game company not delivering on their promises after overselling their product and more or less abandoning it after a year to move onto the next big thing.

i don't think i can respect that ngl.

[dilfl0v3rss]

Hear me outt 🌝 - jealous ony .. and y/n gets a lil lesson

yes yes yesssssss😩

all mine

cw: car sex, public sex!!

word count: 1.8k

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

ony isn’t the jealous type, having lots of confidence in your love for him. he trusted you with his life and expected you to do the same with him so if there was an issue that had him feeling a little more possessive then it usually had barely anything to do with you. it was these thirsty ass niggas.

“baby please go sit the fuck down. too damn early for you t’be irritating me.” it was nine in the morning and you decided i’d be fun to give ony a little show in the living room, twerking and singing along to different songs playing on youtube. right now the princess dianna remix was playing and you was sitting in his lap, bouncing up and down as if you were riding him. “cmon boy i know you wanna touch all dis.” hands raking all over your body as you looked down at his bored face.

ony wasn’t trying to do nothing but smoke a wood with his breakfast and you were ruining that by putting your tiddies all in his face. “mama go somewhere wit allat before i spank you furreal.” his deep voice rumbled from his chest as he lightly pushed you off of him. this man clearly had an attitude, but you knew his stuck up ass wasn’t gon say nothing about it. “what’s wrong papa? why you so aggy?” you were trying to get him to communicate with you, but quickly changed your mind once he got to sucking his teeth, acting as if you were being a pest or something.

rolling your eyes, you started to say something smart, but we’re cut off by the sound of ony’s ringtone. connie’s contact came up and the way your man moved to grab the phone pissed you tf off. “yoo?……nah i’m just chillin at the crib rn…..of course gang we out.” your hands instantly gravitated towards your hips, weight being supported on one leg as you gave him a stank face. “you out where?”

once again, this sassy ass man sucked his teeth before replying. “finna go hoop wit the guys.” this had to be some type of sick joke. there’s no way this man, YOUR man, the one who literally had an attitude five minutes ago, was suddenly prepped up and ready to go run around with his little friends, but couldn’t even have a little fun with you.

“what about me? you don’t wanna stay wit me today daddy?” voice softening as you leaned down to ony’s face. you looked into his brown eyes as you waited for him to fold. he stared right back at you, licking his lips before his phone buzzed once again, ruining the moment as you seen his group chat start to blow his phone up with messages. “you can come wit me ma, but i wanna go hoop.”

what a fucking joke. you pushed yourself of off where your arms were rested before walking to your room, hips swaying with attitude. you wanted to go to target anyways so you decided you’d go to the park with him just this once to get what you wanted, but you had no intention of speaking to this man until he gave you the attention you deserved.

you sat on the park bench, watching ony get all sweaty and sexy playing with his friends. “cashhh bitch! y’all niggas suck i’m finna start putting money on this shit.” ony chuckled as he watched eren and reiner holding their hands on their knees, clearly out of breath from getting their ass whooped again.

“man fuck you. you and connie don’t even need to be on the same team cause y’all mothafuckas played in high school. if we was on that field you know damn well me and rei would be whooping that ass.” eren and reiner dapped each other up before each of them went to go get some water. ony approached you on the bench, shirt discarded somewhere near the courts, chest glistening with sweat as he practically snatched the water from in front of you and drank it.

“excuse me you fucking beast. at least ask.” you reached to snatch the water back, but he just held it higher so you couldn’t reach, giving you a warning glacé. “girl watch your mouth ‘fore i embarrass you in this park.” you rolled your eyes, plopping yourself back in your seat and pulling out your phone. “just go play wit ya little boyfriends ony.” you mumbled, texting on your phone as if you said nothing.

ony clearly didn’t hear you, walking back to go set up another game. “excuse me. this seat taken?” you turned around with attitude, still pissed at your stupid ass boyfriend. when you looked up at where the voice was coming from you were surprised to see a very handsome older man staring back at you. “nah you good. s’just me.” the man smiled at you, gladly taking a seat while digging in his back for his sneakers. “aww that’s a shame. why’s a pretty girl like you at the park all alone?”

you were going to correct him and let him know that you meant alone on the bench, not alone at the park, but your words were soon forgotten. “i’m zeke, eren’s brother. you a friend of his?” you nodded your head, voice stuck in your throat as zeke chuckled at your lack of reply. “you don’t talk much do ya? that’s fine. how about you give me your number and i’ll do all the talking.” as handsome as he was, you were a loyal woman and only wanted to be with one man.

you opened your mouth to politely shoot him down when you were interrupted. “nah she good.” ony’s lower stomach was was right behind your head as you and zeke looked up at him. face showing signs of irritation as he stood over you with his arms crossed on his chest. zeke held his hands up in defense as he practically rats you out. “i mean no harm, the pretty lady said she was here alone so i asked for her number. i had no idea.”

you looked up at your boyfriend, giving him a shy smile as you practically smelled the jealousy coming off of him. “uhh we’ll since that’s outta the way, you guys got room for one more?” zeke stood up, clearly uncomfortable with the tense energy being emitted from the both of you right now. “go ahead man, m’just leaving.” the blonde man gave him a small nod before leaving the two of you alone. “baby it’s not what is lo-”

“get in the car mama, we going home.”

the two of you didn’t even make is home, legs spread in the passenger seat as ony had one hand caressing the back of your neck while the other was buried deep in your panties. you’ve tried explaining the situation many times, and he seemed to understand what really happened, but he still fingered you with so much vigor that you couldn’t help but feel he was upset with you. “p-please papa i didn’t do anything wrongggg. it was just mis-miscommunication.”

his fingers dug into you deeper, nodding to you in understanding as he sucked hickies into your neck. “i know mama. i know. it’s just…just-” “jus’ what daddy? what i do?” a soft sigh left your lips at ony’s fingers left your hole, lifting to your clit before rubbing it slowly. “ion like seeing you talk to men ion know.” his fingers moved faster, making you shake under his arm as your release approached.

“i didn’t k-know. m’sorryyyy” your climax was at the tip of your tongue, but before long it was ripped away. ony leaned back in his seat before pulling his shorts and boxers below his hips. dick standing tall against his stomach as his hands moved towards your hips. “it’s okay princes. ima teach you, and make sure you never forget.”

though ony had a soft smile on his face, his grip on your hips was tight as he lifted you over the center console. your sundress was bunched up at your stomach so your boyfriend had easy access to your pretty pussy. he waisted no time ripping your panties in the middle and lining himself up with your tight entrance. “no screaming, no running, no crying, understand?”

before you could answer a scream erupted from your throat as ony slammed you down on his dick. “the fuck i just say mama?” large hands squeezing your ass tightly as he continued bouncing you up and down on his lap. lewd moans flew from your lips as you felt how delicious your walls felt against him. “i know it feel good, but i need you to stay quiet f’me okay? we still in public.” your eyes migrated toward the tinted windows, getting a good view of the still occupied park as well as you friends playing basketball.

“i’ll be quiet, promise.” your lips connected, dancing sloppily with each other before ony spoke into your mouth. “good girl.” his dick began kissing your cervix, palms taking up most of the space of your ass. “you mine right?” the two of you were eye to eye as he moved his hand to your neck, a silent command for you to bounce on your own as he continued thrusting from under you.

“y-yes daddy. only yours.” ony smiled at your response, rewarding you by angling his hips upward in the way that makes you want to melt into him. “this my pussy ain’t it?” he took your wrists, holding them behind your back as the two of you made love chest to chest. you moaned his name repeatedly like a prayer until you felt the urge to pee. “your heart, mind, and body. who’s is it?”

you felt your climax once again, this time stronger than before. pussy already leaking so much that it wet the seats under you as you continued fucking yourself onto ony’s dick. he knew you were close when you clenched tightly around him, clearly holding your release in so you can ask for permission. a wide smile crept into his face as he watched how obedient you were. “answer me and you can cum mama. who you belong to?”

“y-you daddyyy.” usually this answer would’ve satisfied him, but your boyfriend was in a different type of mood today. “nah princess say my name. my real name.” your pussy fluttered around him in delight, loving every second of this moment as you began kissing up his chest. ony shivered under you when you reached his neck, stopping right behind his ear. “i’m all y-yours. on-onyankoponnnn.”

your orgasm crashed down in waves, making you shake as your juices ran down his thighs. your boyfriend wasn’t far behind you, shooting his load deep inside you while holding your body on his. “that’s my good girl. never forget that either.”

[darkbluekies]

You can't hide from me

Mafia!yandere OC x reader

Summary: how could you ever think that you could escape Silas? He'll always find you because after all ... you can't hide from him. He has eyes everywhere.

Warnings: kidnapping, yandere, unhealthy relationships, guns, panic attack(?), mentions of getting punished in the end, criminals, mentions of death, humiliation

Word count: 2.5k

Silas arms are lying around your waist like a cage, breathing down your neck. His chest is glued to your back with his hands tightly together over your stomach to make you stay in place. You can't breathe, but you're not sure if that's the chokehold he has you in or his suffocating presence. All you know is that you have to leave. He came home an hour ago, drenched in more blood than you've ever seen. He's showered twice because you forced him to fo it again when he came out claiming he was clean … but it still feels like he is covered. 

You've been planning this for a while. You're going to break into Silas’s safe and take the money you need, take Silas’s car and go to the airport. You know that if you ever want to get away from him, you need to leave the country for a while. If he can’t find you, maybe he’ll give up after a while. Your moral tells you that you shouldn’t steal the money and the car, but the devil camping on your shoulder mutters that after everything Silas has done to you, you should be allowed to take something from him. After all, he’s taken everything from you. 

You carefully pry Silas arms off of you. He grunts and hugs you closer. You squeeze your eyes together in frustration. The embrace causes your heart to beat quicker in pure fear. If they don’t leave you soon, you’ll start to have a panic attack and then he’ll wake up … and then you’ll not be able to leave. The second Silas knows that you’re not feeling well, you’ll have even more eyes on you. That’s the least thing you need now.

You try to pry his muscular arms off again. This time, you manage to get out of the bed. Silas start to move in bed, quickly noticing that something’s missing. With your heart in your throat, you look around for something to put in his grasp. You take your pillow and stuff it in his arms. 

Every motion is quiet and terrified. You’re horrified you’ll turn around and see him stand right behind you with his death glare, ready to throw you back into the basement. You’d rather die than end up there again. You don’t think you can take another day, week or month in the basement. To be fair, you never know how long you’re down there. One time you entered when the snow was falling outside and came out when the first flowers bloomed. 

You dress yourself in a pair of gray sweatpants and black hoodie, shove some necessities into your backpack, grab Silas’ keys and sneak out of the room, silently hoping that the floor planks won’t snitch you out. The only reason you’re able to sneak out of the room is because of how well you’ve been acting lately. You’ve finally gained Silas’s trust! He doesn’t lock the bedroom door anymore and doesn't keep you chained to the bedpost. 

The house is filled with men ready to put a bullet in intruders heads … hopefully they won’t think you’re a thief if they notice you. Thankfully, the ones who aren’t asleep are working in the office. You run past and unlock the front door. When the door is unlocked with the key, the alarm doesn't go off. You’ve learned that the hard way.

You jump into Silas’s black car, put in the keys and start the engine. The car roars like a beast. You gasp loudly. 

“No, no, no!” you breathe out. “Shh, please! Fucking monster car!”

Quickly, you drive out of the driveway, out onto the street. Most of the time you hate that there aren’t any buildings nearby, but tonight, you’re happy that there’s no one that can see you escape. No one that can snitch you out. 

You pull up the map on the screen in the front of the car, following the GPS to get to the airport. Your hands are sweating on the steering wheel. Every car you see in the rear view mirror seems to be Silas’s men, but you tell yourself that you’re being paranoid.

You suddenly realize that the car can be tracked and that one of the cars behind you could very well be one of Silas’ men … or Silas himself. You shiver at the thought. When they track the car to the airport’s parking lot, you need to be on the first best flight. 

As soon as you park, you run through the airport, going through security and booking a last minute flight to who-knows-where. You didn’t even check. You cover your face with the hood of your black hoodie to hide your face, scared that someone, anyone could recognize you. You know that Silas could have contacts anywhere. Anyone could work for him. 

When you slump down on one of the benches in the waiting area by your gates, you can finally breathe out. Everything’s going to be okay, you tell yourself, you’re going to be safe now. Soon, you’ll be out of the country, away from Silas. 

You look at the clock. Three am. Your flight to who-knows-where leaves at five. With a yawn, you cross your arms and sink down in your seat. A few minutes of sleep shouldn’t do much harm. 

“Boss, wake up!” second in command shouts and slaps Silas across the face.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” he shouts and grabs the man by the collar, wrestling him down into the mattress. “Slapping me, are we? I’m going-”

“Silas, wait, wait! Listen! Y/N’s gone!”

He freezes and quickly looks around the empty room in horror. “Gone?”

“Yes, when the men looked at the security footage this morning, they left the house and took your car!”

“My car?” Silas hurries up from the bed and grabs a pair of black pants and white shirt. “Where did they go? We have to find them!”

“One of our colleagues just messaged us that they were seen at the airport. They work there at the cargo department. Before you freak out, they’ve banned their passport. They can’t leave the country and if they try to leave the airport, the security on our side will take them aside for you.”

Silas smiles cruelly. “My stupid, little baby thinks they can escape me? How silly. I’m going to make them regret being born. Let’s go get them home.”

“You should eat something.”

“Geetting this fucking treatment when waking up is better than an energy drink. Shut up now and go get the other car. I’m not wasting a single second.”

You can see the sun rise outside the big windows and the airplane coming to the gate. When it’s boarding, you walk over to the lady by the check in. She scans your passport and frowns. 

“I’m sorry, but it seems like your passport has been blacklisted”, she says.

“What?” you ask in confusion. “No, it shouldn’t be. I haven’t done …” Realization kicks in. “Shit!”

“What?”

“N-Nothing.”

You grab your bag and back away, heart hammering in your ears. Someone recognized you! You’re not safe here. You have to get out of here quickly before they alert Silas. 

Just as you’re about to run, you can see two security guards marching over to you. In horror, you stumble backwards, shaking your head as tears start to run down your cheeks. 

“N-No, please!” you shout in desperation, voice breaking with panic. 

The other passengers look at you with pity in their eyes. For them, this is just another airport freak out … but for you? The end of the world. The men grab your arms firmly. 

“Be nice now”, one of them says. “Come with us without resistance and we won’t have any trouble.”

“Hell no!” you shout and start to kick. “Leave me alone!”

They start dragging you with them. You make yourself as much of an inconvenience as possible. You make yourself as heavy as possible, you kick and scratch and twist. They don’t budge. Panic is spreading like fire in your veins when you realize that they’re not using a taser on you or anything that could ‘calm’ you down. They’re definitely working for Silas. 

They drag you throughout the airport until you reach a closed off area used for staff only. An empty white room. You’re thrown into the corner. 

“You’re a little bitch, aren’t you?” one of the men says, massaging his hand. “Got in a few scratches there.”

You curl up into a ball in the corner of the empty, white room, wishing that you could melt into the walls. Your body is shaking as you hug yourself tightly with tears running down your cheeks. 

“You work for him, don’t you?” you whisper with a thick voice, not looking up from the floor. 

“What a little genius you are”, the other man says.

You’re silent for the next thirty minutes. If people didn’t know better, they’d think that you were a statue. When the men leave the room, you glance up at the closed door. 

“Good morning, sir”, one of the security guards says. 

“Good morning”, he says shortly. 

You gulp at his harsh voice. He’s going to kill you. 

“Are they in here?” he asks.

“Yes, they tried to run away, but we managed to catch them”, one of the security men says. 

“Are they hurt?”

“No.”

“Good. Stay here, I’m going to talk to them alone.”

You flinch when the door handle presses down. Quickly, you look away and start to tremble again. In the corner of your eye you can see a pair of legs and the bottom of a black coat entering, closing the door behind. He sighs heavily, making you whimper involuntarily. 

“What am I going to do with you, hm?” he murmurs and squats down in front of you. 

You turn your head away and press your body closer to the wall. He reaches out and removes your hood, the only shield you have. You start to cry heavily now that you’re all vulnerable to him. He cups your cheek with one hand and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, whimpering. 

“Did you really think this would work?” Silas asks, trying to meet your eyes. “You can’t hide from me, baby. I will always find you.”

“I-It’s not fair”, you spit through gritted teeth, glaring at him with a blurry vision. You have come to the part where hiccups crash through your voice. “Y-You have thousands o-of people working for you! I h-have no one!”

“And that’s life, little thing. I don’t play nice.” He tilts his head. “Haven’t you learned that by now?”

“F-Fuck you, Silas. I hate y-you.”

He scoffs and pulls you into his arms. You try to push him away with your hands and feet, but he’s stronger, trapping you against his chest. 

“Let me go!” you scream, voice getting muffled into his clothing. 

“Stop resisting”, he growls, pulling you closer. 

You scream and shake your head. Silas locks your head into his shoulder with one hand and wraps the other around your waist. 

“Shh, baby”, he hushes loudly, rocking back and forth. “Shh, calm down. I’m going to take care of you. We’ll make sure this never happens again. Shh, shh.”

You continue to fight, but grow tired quickly. All these hours spent awake and on edge have caught up. It’s no use fighting against him, you’ll never win. You’re sitting limp in Silas’ arms and all you can do is cry into his shoulder. You were so close to getting away. If only you had been a bit more careful. 

“There, there, little thing”, Silas whispers in your ear and kisses your temple. He runs his hand over your back. “I have you, you’re safe now.”

He hugs you tighter and exhales, satisfied over having you back into his arms. You fit so well in his embrace. 

“Let’s go home”, he says and is about to stand up. 

“N-No!” you say, grabbing his coat. “No, please, Silas-”

“Listen, baby, you have two choices. Either, you come with me like a good little pet and don’t cause trouble. That way, your punishment will be much lighter. Or, you can continue to act like a brat and I’ll knock you unconscious and throw you into the basement until you grow mold. What do you say? Are you going to behave?”

You clench your jaw, muttering something he can’t hear. 

“What was that, baby?” he asks with a smirk on his face. “Can you repeat?”

You mumble again. 

“Louder, baby”, Silas says mockingly. “Use big words.”

“I’ll behave …”, you mutter. 

“Good job.”

He stands up and pulls you up on your feet by your armpits. Silas removes his black coat and hangs it around your shoulders, caressing your wet cheek quickly. He hangs your backpack over one of his shoulders. You stare at the hand he offers for you before hesitantly taking it in yours. He opens the door and brings you outside. The security guards avoid looking at you now. The second in command must have warned them. 

“If you make any noise, I’m going to use this”, Silas says and shows the hidden revolver tucked in his shirt. “Got it?”

You nod quickly. Together, the four men take you out of the airport by the back door. 

“Oh, right, baby”, Silas says, turning to you. “My keys.”

You pull them up from your hoodie pouch and dump them in his hand with a glare. He smiles, thanking you. Silas takes you to the car you escaped in and sits you down in the front seat while he takes the driver's seat. His second in command drives the other car. 

“You should try to sleep a little”, Silas says. “You are not going to sleep for quite some time.”

“What are you going to do to me …?” you whisper. 

“Oh, I’m going to torture you. Badly.”

You give him a wide eyed look and he chuckles, eyes disappearing into half moons. 

“Okay, not badly because you did come with me without problems”, he smiles to calm your nerves. “However, I’m going to make sure you know who you belong to. When I’m done with you, you’ll only know me. You should start getting comfortable with the basement because you’ll spend a lot of time down there.”

You gulp. 

“You’ll never try to leave me again, will you?” Silas asks and takes your hand in his. 

“No”, you say quickly, shaking your head. 

“Good.”

You turn your eyes out the window, taking your last look at the outside world. You can feel how Silas lifts your hand to his lips, giving it a kiss. Oh, how you hate how he doesn’t take anything seriously. You’re terrified and here he is making jokes. It makes you sick to your stomach. Silas is a sick man. How could you ever think that you could escape him? 

[dark-frosted-heart]

When the Holy Beast Falls - Azel

An “If you were lovers” story. As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

If Prince Azel and I were lovers…

Sometimes the Living God of Tanzanite would visit the befriended nation Benitoite.

On those occasions, he’d always have me go with him.

I’d never hear something cute like “I’ll miss you” from the two-faced god who apparently brought me along just to push me around.

But I know his true intentions.

--

Emma: Prince Azel, I’m back. 

Azel: You’re late.

Emma: I brought everything you asked me to buy since you can’t go into town, so please forgive me.

Azel: That’s not the issue.

Prince Azel, who waited by the entrance, took the packages from me.

However, it didn’t seem like he was considering the packages and studied me.

Emma: …Are you hurt?

Azel: You can see I’m not.

Emma: Then what is it?

Azel: You’ve kept me waiting because you’ve been having fun in town.

Emma: H-how did you know? Is this God’s power— 

Azel: It’s all over your face.

(I guess I was grinning)

At my honest confession, Prince Azel pinched my cheek.

Azel: You got some nerve. I’ve been waiting for you to come back—

Emma: You’ve been waiting? For me?

Azel: …Don’t get the wrong idea. I asked you to get something for me.

Emma: That’s too bad. I thought if you were waiting for me, I’d rush back the next time.

Azel: Hurry back even if I’m not waiting. That’s a debtor’s responsibility. I’ll add this late fee to your debt.

Emma: Is that okay? The more debt you add, the more you won’t be able to let me go.

Azel: …You’re getting defiant.

(You’re so awkward, truly)

With a grim look on his face, Prince Azel turned his back on me and placed items he had me get on the table.

He went to check its contents, but his hand immediately stopped.

Azel: Emma…What is this?

Emma: It’s cute, isn’t it? I made a stop along the way to buy it.

Prince Azel held Benitoite’s popular “Living God doll” in his trembling hands.

It was a small doll in Prince Azel’s likeness that was said to bring many blessings, including luck with money, love, health, etc.

(It took me a while to buy it since there as a line)

Before he could throw it against the wall, I snatched the doll from Prince Azel’s hands and held it dearly.

Emma: I bought this separately from the money you gave me. I’m not giving it to you.

Azel: Get rid of things that aren’t wanted or needed.

Emma: I refuse. He’s cute, isn’t he?

Azel: Cute?! I think you mean repulsive.

I moved the doll out of Prince Azel’s reach as he tried to steal it back and stepped away from him.

Emma: Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.

Azel: No one’s telling you to take care of it. I'm telling you to throw it away.

Emma: Throw away my beloved Prince Azel? I could never.

Azel [polite]: …I see, I see. Even with the real God present, you chose the doll and casted me aside. How cruel…This is a slight toward God. This blasphemy deserves divine punishment.

(Ah—)

Prince Azel deliberately covered his face with his hands and began sobbing.

I knew it was a trap, but it hurt my conscience to ignore him.

Emma: That’s not it. However, with this doll, I can be with Prince Azel even when I’m out running errands. It’s my way of showing how much I love you.

The instant I approached the god to butter him up, Prince Azel stopped his crocodile tears, took the doll from me, and tossed it into some corner of the room. 

Emma: Ah! That’s cruel—Mn?!

My eyes widened when he stopped my protest with a kiss.

Azel: Who’s the cruel one here? Cheater.

Emma: …Even though it’s a puppet of you.

Azel: If you want my blessings so much, I’ll give it to you. You’ll have to deal with it.

A large hand grabbed my chin and our lips met again.

The kisses of a holy, unrelated god were always so greedy, greedily exploring deep inside that it made you feel like you were going to fall.

(Why is every kiss so lewd…)

Even when I nipped his lip to tell him he was going too far, the two-faced god didn’t stop and instead started tickling my ear.

Emma: Mm…Mmm!

Azel: Don’t need the doll anymore? That’s wonderful.

Emma: Wro…ah

The fingers that were tickling my ear slid down my neck and under the collar of my blouse.

I hastily grabbed the hand that was going to defile me and looked into his mysterious, starry eyes.

Emma: I can’t return to my room anymore, can I?

Azel [polite]: A message from God. You should not be alone tonight for there are bad omens.

Emma: …A lot of good things happened in town though?

Azel [polite]: It will happen, and it will surely be a misfortune.

Emma: Specifically…

Azel [polite]: Divination is an ambiguous thing. You won’t know until it happens.

Emma: Then let’s test out if Prince Azel’s divination is really correct.

Azel: Why would you do that? Are you stupid?

He cupped my cheeks and squished them.

Emma: Because lately, you’ve been saying the same thing. That when I’m alone, misfortune, bad luck, or a disaster will happen to me… So I thought I’d try it out just once.

Azel: Being fearless isn’t good. God’s words are absolute, so you must heed His warnings.

Emma: I get it Prince Azel. You just really want us to be together, don’t you?

Azel: ……I didn’t say that.

(You’re so easy to read)

Azel: I don’t care if you’re here or not. I prefer being alone.

Emma: Then— 

When I tried to shake his hands off and turn away, he hugged me tight.

Azel: You don’t believe in God’s good will?

Emma: You just need to be honest and say that you want me with you.

Azel: Aren’t you the one that wants to be with me?

Emma: If I’m the only one that wants this, then I’ll only bother you so I’ll head back to my room—

Azel: Try to go back if you can.

(Ugh…He’s so strong that I can’t shake him off!)

Even after saying all this, Prince Azel still won’t admit it.

But when I turned to look at him, we kissed for a short moment.

Azel: Ah…

It seemed like he didn’t mean to and his brows furrowed.

(He never wants to admit it, but…)

Emma: You truly do love me, Prince Azel.

Azel: Don’t be so conceited.

A blush spread across his grim face.

(...God’s blessing was real)

(Because it’s possible to make Prince Azel look like this)

With a dramatic sigh, Prince Azel rested his forehead on my shoulder.

Azel: What am I even doing?

Emma: It's love.

Azel: No. I’m in no way in love with you. Damn it…

(There’s still a long way to go, but I’ll definitely get it out of him one day)

(An “I love you” from Prince Azel)

[caffedrine]

Character vs. Event – The Beast wants to Lure the Rabbit Silvio Ricci vs Azel Radwan - Summary

If you trust me to know what I'm doing, then we have both made a huge mistake. I cannot guarantee accuracy for this summary, or even grammatical correctness.

Please support Cybird and pick up this event when it makes it to the English Server

Also - Silvio is super hot in this one. Don't get distracted by the sexy new princes, Silvio brings it.

This is set without Silvio or Azel being romanced.

What if Emma had gone on to purchase books in Benitoite on Akatsuki’s behalf?

After completing Akatsuki’s errand, Emma briefly stopped by the main port before heading back to the inn. The port seemed unusually busy, and Emma overhears some of the crowd talk about the living god, also mentioning that Silvio had personally come to welcome him.

Emma is also curious by the talk of the living god, and wonders if this means Silvio is just ahead.

She had briefly met Silvio a short while ago when she had played the role of ‘Belle’ in Rhodolite. Silvio, First Prince of Benitoite, had tormented her many times, and possibly because he was suspicious of her secret role, had made her his caretaker. Thankfully Rio had protected her, but unfortunately, he was not around to shield her now.

It would have been smart for Emma to turn away and go to the inn, but she was curious about how her former acquaintance was doing. Curiosity drew her into the crowd, and with some luck, she was in a prime position to see Silvio.

Benitoite knights had formed an empty zone, in which Silvio stood looking at a large ship bearing the emblem of Tanzanite. Following his gaze, Emma saw a single figure move down the ship’s gangway.

At first glance, he was an otherworldly man with features she has never seen before. His hair was silver, and his eyes were a mysterious color that she couldn’t quite place but was striking even from a distance.

Around her, the crowd confirms that this new person is the living god, and Emma recalls hearing that there was a real god in human form in Tanzanite. From the looks of him, she could believe it.

As he came closer to them, Emma could see that the Living God’s expression was full of compassion and love that surrounded everyone, starkly contrasted to Silvio’s tyrannical expression.

(something wicked this way comes)

With a politeness that took Emma by surprise, Silvio welcomed Azel, the Living God, to Benitoite. Azel kindly thanked Silvio for his gracious hospitality and prayed that all the people of Benitoite would be blessed.

Emma is surprised, she didn’t think Silvio was capable of being so polite and gracious. At least, he had never appeared that way in front of the Princes of Rhodolite. The Living God must be something if he could draw this personality out of Silvio.  It gives her goosebumps.

Just as Azel begins to accompany Silvio to a nearby carriage, a man behind Emma shouts that Azel is a fraud and has bankrupted him. He demands his money back and starts lashing out, pushing hard at the crowd and Emma.

Benitoite knights rush over to the man, and the combined commotion of the rampaging man, and the knights trying to restrain him send Emma landing on the ground hard. Just as she realizes that she’s technically in the open space, Silvio recognizes her.

Silvio rushes towards her, demanding to know what the hell she’s doing here. He swears at her, and Emma is almost relieved to see the normal Silvio. Emma begins to apologize, assuming he’s upset because of how close she is, but Silvio shushes her, examining her leg, which she only begins to notice is badly scraped up and bleeding through her skirt.

Before Emma can react, Silvio bends down and scoops her up into his arms. Emma demands to know what he’s doing, but Silvio shushes her, threatening to toss her into the sea if she doesn’t calm down. Emma ignores the threat and tells him that she’s not so injured that she can't walk. She points out that he’ll attract undue rumors if they see him right now.

Emma flails more, but Silvio shrugs off her movements. He tells her that he isn’t going to follow any orders from her, and besides, no one cares about them right now. Emma stops and looks at the crowd, and sees that indeed, everyone is focused on Azel.

Azel is telling the crowd that if anyone has a grievance to air with him, to please follow the formal procedures to request a meeting. He promises that as long as time permits, he will listen to all the people of Benitoite. But he would hate for his beloved people to be injured further by this outburst, and to be patient with him.

Like a miracle, the crowd quieted down like the receding of the tide. Even Emma feels like her heart quiet down, and she wonders if this is a miracle from god. Silvio tells Emma that they’ll take this opportunity to leave quickly. Emma asks where he’s taking her, and Silvio responds that he’s sure as hell not going to stand here holding her forever, so they’ll just go back to the castle.

Emma tells Silvio to think things through and put her down. Silvio tells her to stop ruining his mood and takes a threatening step towards the sea. Emma doesn’t say anything, and Silvio looks satisfied.

In the carriage, Emma tells Silvio that she’s grateful for his kindness, but she absolutely hates this. Silvio tells her that she only has herself to blame, making him get violent in front of a state guest. Azel tells Silvio that he absolutely doesn’t mind, in fact, this sounds like a profitable story.

Once he pushed her into the carriage, Silvio had one of his servants retrieve a first aid kit and hand it to him. When she saw Silvio’s wicked grin, Emma immediately understood what was going to happen next and grabbed the hem of her skirt to hold it down. Just as she expected, Silvio forcefully tried to pull up her skirt.

All in front of the Living God, sitting across from them.

The fight between Emma and Silvio was so childish, she wanted to cry. She tell Silvio that she can take care of this herself, but Silvio insists that he’s a better medic than she is, and watching a amateur fumble about will only irritate him.

Emma tells him that’s fine, she’ll just get off his carriage, go home, and take care of it herself. Silvio rejects this idea.

Emma demands to know why, and Silvio snaps back that she’s very annoying, and if she resists any further, he’ll tear off her skirt. Emma wails that Silvio is truly the worst. She wonders if this is revenge for their time together in Rhodolite where she had been avoiding being his hostess.

Finally Azel speaks up, telling them to give it up. Silvio appreciates the backup, but Emma points out that he might have been talking to Silvio.

Azel notes that he is always troubled by the worries of stupid people. But, for her, he will lend a special hand.

Emma was surprised at the words, but Azel’s serene, benevolent expression never wavered. In the shaking carriage, Azel stands and moves to sit on Emma’s other side, trapping her between him and Silvio.

Silvio complains that with all three of them on the same seat, the carriage’s balance will be off. Azel tells Silvio in that case to go ahead and move to the empty bench.

Smiling sweetly at Emma, Azel asks her name, and introduces himself as Silvio’s personal fortuneteller, to Silvio’s displeasure. He asks since when were they that close, and Azel asks if Silvio is cheating on him with other fortunetellers. He laments that Silvio is so cruel even though Azel tries so hard for him.

Silvio protests, for one, he doesn’t even believe in fortunetelling. Azel smiles and exclaims that he is the only fortuneteller in the world that Silvio trusts. Silvio sighs in defeat.

Taking advantage of their distraction, Azel jerks the hem of Emma’s skirt up, exposing her wound.

Mockingly pitying her, Azel takes the medicine from Silvio, and begins to treat Emma as a bad feeling wells up in her. Unfortunately, she is trapped between Silvio and Azel and has no choice but to accept having her wound treated.

Azel treats her wound without the slightest show of compassion or mercy. It hurts badly enough that Emma yowls in pain, and clings to Silvio, who recoils and demands that she stop touching him. Through her tears, Emma apologizes, but cannot bring herself to let go of Silvio.

Azel is as efficient as a battle nurse and bandages her wound with gauze. By the time he finishes, the pain recedes. In a voice very different than the serenely benevolent one he’s used up to now, Azel mocks her for crying over being treated.

Then, with a very tender and compassionate gesture, Azel wipes the tears away from Emma’s eyes, and she wonders if the painful treatment was a dream. Emma thanks Azel, and he assures her that as Silvio’s precious friend, she is his sucker- wait, he meant friend, too.

Silvio breaks the moment by demanding Emma get off of him. As Emma scoots away, Silvio flings himself to the corner of the bench, but not before she notices how red his face is. When she brings it up, Silvio threatens to throw her out of the carriage, and Emma wonders if he’s embarrassed.

No, he’s a tyrant, it must be something else.

Azel takes this moment to bring up the cost of the treatment. He leans close to her ear and whispers a number so large that Emma feels herself grow faint. A light seems to shine from behind Azel as he explains that god has just used his own hands to treat her, so if anything, this is a discount.

Emma asks Silvio to save her, but he replies that this is her own fault for refusing to let him treat her. He goes on to explain that as gods go, Azel is pretty evil.

Emma realizes that Azel just scammed her.

Azel assures Emma that he’ll create a loan document so that she can pay her debt back in installments. Emma asks if there's anything other than money that can pay him back, and Azel considers this before agreeing. He’ll forgive the debt if Emma agrees to become his exclusive maid (slave) during his stay. Emma is confused, he said the word ‘maid’ but she’s pretty sure he meant ‘slave’.

Silvio cuts in, he has already hired the most skilled maid in Benitoite to serve Azel. There’s no need for Azel to put up with Emma’s amateurish attempts.

Azel disagrees, he’s grown fond of Emma. She’s not intimidated by princes or gods, so he’s certain he’ll feel very comfortable with her. Then again, if Silvio has that strong of an opinion, he doesn’t mind Silvio paying Emma’s debt on her behalf.

However, he knows Silvio is the type of person who doesn’t waste money. If Silvio is going to help this woman personally, does it mean that he’s in love with her?

Silvio immediately denies this, and Azel shrugs. It’s too bad, it sounds like Emma is going to be his new maid (slave) after all.

Emma agrees to serve Azel and have him waive the costs to treat her. Mentally she apologizes to Akatsuki, it looks like it will be a while before she is able to return to Rhodolite.

At the Benitoite Castle, Azel thanks Silvio for his hospitality, he always loves the food served to him. Silvio assures him that serving him is absolutely no trouble, and to eat as much as he likes.

Emma, now wearing a maid uniform, is their waiter and has been serving them since they first set foot in the castle. Thanks to her time as Belle, she was actually doing quite well. However, she is concerned that there are no other servants besides her, as everyone else has been dismissed. She is kept very busy, working by herself.

Azel and Silvio begin to talk seriously. Azel talks about an easy mark - er, merchant, who is still active. Silvio agrees, they’re using Azel’s name to sell expensive products. Unfortunately, while immoral, this isn’t illegal in Benitoite, and they need to get them on something else. He asks if Azel needs his help, but Azel refuses. Instead, he would like Silvio to do that favor he asked for.

Emma more or less understands the problem. She wonders if the whole point of Azel’s trip is to stop the sale of fake holy artifacts and imagines that there will be a lot of trouble ahead. She idly refills Silvio’s rose wine as Azel turns to her and explains that she’ll be helping him.  Emma starts and nearly empties the wine pitcher on Silvio. She asks if she misheard, but nope, Azel is going to use her for his job tomorrow.

Silvio immediately grabs her hand and cuts in. He was actually planning on having Emma help him tomorrow. Besides, he saw her first, Azel should back down.

Azel asks how much he should sell Emma to Silvio for. He reminds them that he’s an evil god. Silvio clicks his tongue, and Azel turns to Emma. He doesn’t mind if Emma chooses between them.

Silvo End

Emma is paralyzed by the sudden choice. She decides that in the end, she has to pay back her debt to Azel, so she slowly turns to him.

Behind her, Silvio clicks his tongue and tells Azel he understands, all he has to do is buy her. Azel smiles beautifully, remarking that it’s about time that Silvio’s made up his mind, no, Lord Gold*, that is. Silvio grumbles for Azel to stop calling him that.

Magnanimously, Azel agrees to stop, after all, he is very loyal to Silvio. He then praises Silvio for saving his dear friend. And to not ruin the moment, Azel will give him the bill later. This is not included in the compensation they’ve already arranged. Silvio grumbles about how stubborn Azel is.

Silvio then smiles arrogantly at Emma, and she wishes that she had gone with Azel instead. She has moved from the frying pan into the fire.

Silvio tells Emma that just as Azel once said, he doesn’t waste his money. He intends for her to work off her debt completely, and he plans on enjoying this.

The next morning, Emma is summoned to Silvio’s bedroom, and with a wicked grin he explains that today she is his personal maid. He warns her not to run her mouth with him. Emma would love to complain, but since Silvio holds a sizeable debt over her head, she cannot oppose him. Very politely, Emma agrees and tells Silvio to go ahead and give her any orders he wants. She goes full maid mode and calls him ‘master’.

This wipes the smirk off of Silvio’s face and he complains about it being weird when she’s like this. Emma reminds him that he has just told her to be his maid, so what does he want her to do? And why does he look so frustrated when she’s obedient?

Silvio has an errand for Emma to run. He hands her a list of book titles. Azel has requested these particular books from Silvio, but they’re rare enough that no single bookstore has everything. Silvio needs someone to go to the various bookstores in Benitoite and cobble the list together.

Emma is somewhat surprised; this is pretty much her normal job. She was worried that Silvio would give her a horrible onerous task, but this lines up with her abilities perfectly. She assures Silvio that she will be back by nightfall, accepting the list. She will pay off the debt with time to spare.

So why is Silvio accompanying her on this errand? When she asks, Silvio tells her that it’s none of her business. Emma laughs and teases him, maybe he’s coming with her because he cant bear to part with her so quickly?

Silvio reaches out and grabs her head, crushing it in a painful grip. He tells her to focus less on him and more on her task.

Emma asks if this means that Silvio doesn’t want to leave her alone. Silvio is not amused by this and begins to shake her head, blurring her vision. She complains that her eyes are shaking, and Silvio warns her to stop saying weird things.

Fine, fine, Emma will let it be. She’ll pretend there’s nothing weird or unusual about Silvio following her on her errand. That he assigned her.

The first bookstore she stops by was one she had purchased books from Akatsuki the previous day. The bookstore owner recognizes her, and asks if the rumor is true, is she now dating Silvio? To Emma’s horror, the owner explains that the rumors were that when the Living God arrived in Benitoite, Silvio and Emma had an intimate moment. Publicly. And now, the rumors say that Silvio has both the Living God and his mistress as guests at the Benitoite Palace.

Anyway, here is the book Emma requested. Please, give the bookstore owner’s regards to Prince Silvio.

Immediately upon exiting the bookstore, Emma tells Silvio that they need to break up.

Silvio looks stunned as he accepts the book from Emma. He recovers enough to remind Emma that they can’t break up, they’re not dating in the first place.

Yeah, well, there are rumors going around. Rumors . . . from Silvio’s very nonchalant reaction that he already knew about.

Yep, according to public opinion, Emma is Silvio’s woman. At least in Benitoite.

Okay, then they should break up publicly.

Silvio refuses to take orders from his newest maid. Instead, they should go to the next store.

As they walk, Emma is aghast at how fast these rumors are spreading. Oh, she just knew something bad would come from Silvio picking her up at the port. And now, she has become hyper-aware of all the people they pass by, feeling their gazes slide over her. Oh, what would happen if the rumors of her being Silvio’s woman spread past the Benitoite capital?

As if reading her mind, Silvio wonders what would happen if that dog hears the rumors too. He slips an arm around Emma’s waist and bends down to whisper in Emma’s ear. It occurs to her that, from the right angle, this looks like a intimate moment.

Silvio is doing this on purpose.

The longer they stay together, the faster the rumors will spread. Now Emma has just one last resort. She points and shouts that Azel is right there across the street.

This breaks Silvio’s attention, Azel should be in a different part of the city all together, dealing with . . . And Emma is gone, sprinting off down an alley. She thinks she heard Silvio scramble after her, but she continues full speed ahead, and practically dives into the first store around a corner. Gasping for breath, she waits, but it seems like she has shaken off Silvio.

After a moment, Emma decides to look around the store. It’s a general store, full of cute accessories that make her think of Benitoite. Something on the shelf catches her attention.

After Emma makes her purchase, she leaves the store, confident in her escape skills and planning on finishing her errand. She gets as far as the main street before a voice calls out to her. Before she can even look, she is dragged into a different alley and pushed roughly against the wall.

It’s Silvio.

And he is pissed.

Maybe Emma would have been better off if just a regular kidnapper had found her instead.

Silvio hopes that Emma is prepared to face the consequences of her actions. Emma is, but she doesn’t regret trying to stop the spread of the rumors. If it gets out that she is Silvio’s mistress, her marriage prospects will plummet.

Silvio is aghast, is that what she cares about? Hasn’t it got through her head why he’s spent his entire day with her yet?

Realizing what he just said, Silvio shuts his mouth, then swears, he didn’t mean that last bit to slip.

In case Emma hasn’t realized it, Silvio is a prince. And, if that’s not enough, he’s rich. Like, really rich. The rumors have already spread, and right now, she’s the most kidnappable person on the continent.

Oh. Well, maybe if Silvio had said that from the start, Emma would have been more cooperative. But, from his expression right now, Silvio looks embarrassed. It’s not something she is used to from this arrogant tyrant.

Emma apologizes, she didn’t realize he was worried about her. Silvio quickly denies this, he was never worried. He just would be upset if something happened. Totally different emotion.

Silvio is still a tyrant, which Emma hates, but still . . . Emma thanks him.

She pulls her recent purchase out of her pocket – a trinket with a ship motif. The little ship looks like it’s about to have a grand adventure, and looking at it, all she can think of is Silvio’s face.

Emma explains that she realized that back when she got injured Silvio hadn’t hesitated before running to tend to her. In the end, he had even paid Azel for treating her. But, in retrospect, she had never thanked him, so she wanted to give him this as a token of her thanks. Also, she might have been holding on to it to soothe Silvio’s ire when he eventually caught up to her after she escaped him.

But it wasn’t a lie that she wanted to thank him.

Silvio stares at the tiny ship resting in the palm of his hand, frozen. His ocean-blue eyes are wide and he seems very surprised. As the silence continues, Emma grows embarrassed. Maybe he dislikes the trinket – it’s nothing to a millionaire like Silvio. She tells Silvio that if he doesn’t like it, she’ll just take it back.

Silvio immediately snatches the trinket away, holding it above her head. He never said that he didn’t want it. He smiles as Emma grasps at air.

It is a very silly trinket, but Silvio will accept it as his due. Emma thinks he looks surprisingly happy, and her heart skips a beat at a smile she never saw back in Rhodolite.

No, that’s stupid. What’s the point of getting excited about seeing one nice smile on a tyrant’s face? She’s being far too lenient with him.

After this little adventure, Silvio actually listened to Emma’s request, and although he still followed her, he managed to do so without being seen. She was able to finish purchasing the last of the books on the list by the time the sun began setting over the sea.

Emma returns with Silvio to the castle, then cheerfully announces that her job is over. Since she’s paid off her debt, she’ll go ahead and return to the inn she’s staying at.

Emma is somewhat sad; this is probably the last time she will ever interact with Silvio. As a bookstore clerk, she cannot easily approach him, as they practically live in different worlds. She wishes him well, and turns to leave.

Silvio abruptly grabs her, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

Did Emma seriously think she could just leave like that?

Silvio Epilogue

Emma met Silvio when the King of Rhodolite died and she had been nominated as Belle to choose his replacement. Silvio had come up with many tricks to try to get her to reveal her identity, leading them to but heads more often than not. If she had to describe their relationship, Emma would say that it was not a good one.

So how exactly did she end up like this?

His arms are wrapped around her like a backward hug, and he’s asking why she thinks she can just leave like that. Emma points out that she completed his errand, and her job is over.

Silvio half-laughs, does Emma really think that all she needed to do was run a single errand to pay him back? As his exclusive maid, she hasn’t even served him dinner yet.

Silvio has a lot of maids in the castle, right? Maid who would be thrilled to serve him any meal he would like, right? Why does he want Emma? Silvio asks if this is how Emma pays back her debts, by mouthing off to the people to whom she owes money.

Silvio doesn’t need Emma to serve him dinner. Emma figures that this is just revenge for everything that happened between them in Rhodolite.

Emma thought she would be free after she served him dinner, but then Silvio’s official duties as the Prince of Benitoite began. He had her sorting documents, organizing files, and assisting with enough paperwork to make her dizzy.

By the time most of the paperwork had been conquered, Azel had returned to the castle. While Silvio listened to Azel’s report, Emma served tea, sweets, and a shocking amount of gold bullion to Azel. Honestly, there was enough gold to last a person an entire lifetime.

Silvio is pleased with Azel’s report, the business was destroyed and was untraceable back to Silvio. Azel is pleased that Silvio is pleased. If Silvio has any other problems, merely contact him and Azel will come running. And, of course, that offer is extended to Silvio’s woman.

Azel is disappointed that neither Silvio nor Emma want a divination.

After the meeting, Emma accompanies Silvio back to his room, where she can hear the sound of the ocean running over the sand. He pours a drink for both of them and tells Emma to drink up. Emma asks if he normally treats his maids to alcohol, and Silvio tells her that she is fired as a maid. She’s far too cocky for the profession.

Emma has no problem with this, it was a lot of hard work.

Silvio urges Emma to drink up, he doesn’t feel like drinking alone today.

The liquor is a light sea-blue and makes her think of Silvio. Since Silvio is personally pouring her drink, she decides to accept and try it.

Silvio explains that it’s a traditional Benitoite liquor, very rare, so Emma might not get a chance to try it again. Tasting it, Emma remarks that it makes her think of the sea, a fitting beverage for Benitoite. It was very tasty and easy to drink, so Emma would have to be careful.

Silvio knocks back a shot of the liquor and pours himself another glass. Emma wonders if she should be worried.

Silvio tells Emma that she should stay at the castle tonight. Emma isn’t certain that it’s allowed, with her being a commoner and all, but Silvio insists that she is his guest. Silvio corrects her, she’s not a guest, after all, he did buy her. Emma asks what the difference is between a guest and someone in debt to him, and Silvio muses it depends on his mood at the moment.

How strange. All while they spent time together in Rhodolite, Silvio had been unpleasant and tyrannical. But right now, it could be said that they were getting along. Now that she isn’t terrified of him discovering her true role, she can see different sides of him. Maybe this playful kindness had been there back when they first met, and Emma had been too wary to notice it. For one, she never would have guessed that he would immediately come to her aid if she was injured.

These thoughts stir confusing feelings inside her, so Emma washes it down with another drink.

When Emma laughs softly and admits to Silvio that she never would have imagined that she would be in his room this late drinking with him. Maybe she had been right when they started the book-buying errand that morning, and Silvio liked being around her. Silvio disagrees and tells her not to get so cocky.

With a shrug, Emma decides that she’s been here long enough, it’s time for her to return to her room at the inn.

But as soon as she sets her empty glass on the table, Silvio grabs her wrist.

Silvio reminds her that they already talked about this, he doesn’t want to see her get kidnapped. Emma asks if that’s the only reason he’s acting like this.

Silvio’s brows furrow, and there’s an awkward silence between them.

Huh, Emma would have thought that Silvio would swear at her and deny it or something. She wonders what Silvio is thinking about during this long silence and decides to back down. She assures Silvio that she does not doubt that he only wants her to stay out of concern for her safety. But Silvio’s grim expression doesn’t go away.

Trying to lighten the mood, Emma reaches out to poke Silvio where his brows are furrowed, but he suddenly leaps backward as if she burned him. From across the room, Silvio shouts at her to not touch him without permission.

Emma blinks owlishly at him, then recalls that time when Azel was treating her wound in the carriage how he had panicked when she clung to him. She asks if Silvio cant bear to be touched, but he denies this, looking everywhere other than her eyes.

This is a weakness.

Emma can’t help but grin wickedly. Silvio grows more upset and yells that she is getting carried away without being aware of her place. Emma shrugs, she’s probably drunk so what she says and does doesn’t count.

Silvio’s frown curls into a grin.

It doesn’t count?

Uh-oh.

With a wicked expression, Silvio stalks towards her, placing his glass on the table. Feeling wary, Emma steps backward, only to topple down on top of his bed.

Silvio pushes her down, hovering over her and caging her with his arms and legs. His face is close enough for the tips of their noses to touch, and Emma and Silvio breathe the same air. When Emma tries to move away, Silvio grabs her hand tightly. Emma can’t see anything other than Silvio, cant hear anything other than their heartbeats. Their fingers are tangled together, both of their bodies hot enough for sweat to bead along Emma’s brow.

Silvio laughs, Emma really is drunk.

Emma would like to respond to it, but every time Silvio exhales, his breath scatters her thoughts.

Silvio sighs, Emma can’t leave now, not with that expression. He roughs up her hair, tangling it with his fingers. Emma asks what he means, and Silvio tells her to stop talking, or else he’ll take a page out of Azel’s book and increase her debt to him.

Once he has tangled Emma’s hair to the point that it looks more like a bird’s nest than a hairstyle, Silvio gets off of Emma, letting her up. Emma sits up and begins righting her hair, and Silvio starts helping.

Emma tells Silvio she really should leave now.

At the very least, she can’t stay here. Her heart is doing backflips, and she cannot describe the feelings washing through her. Standing up, Emma reaches Silvio’s bedroom door, but he calls out to her, stopping her.

Silvio tells Emma that the next time she comes to Benitoite, she really should stop by the castle and say ‘hello’. Besides, he owns her loan, she can always come by and work it off.

What a tyrant.

Emma agrees that she doesn’t want to be in debt to him until she dies, so she will stop by the castle. Unless she forgets.

Silvio grumbles for her not to forget him.

Well, the debt, at least.

Silvio pours himself another drink, and Emma begins to leave for real, only for something to catch her eye. That trinket she had bought for Silvio on a whim sparkles on his desk in a prominent position.

She has no idea what her feelings for Silvio are.

Azel End

The day starts with Emma chasing after the Living God. She calls out for him to please slow down, but Azel refuses to stop his powerwalk.

Even though Azel is not running, his legs are long enough that his stride propels him farther than Emma. Even though they had left at the same time, Emma has to rush after him. Very kindly, Azel sympathizes with having stubby legs and warns Emma that if she can’t keep up with him, he’ll just have to leave her behind.

Eventually, Azel makes his way through a back alley, but there is no sign of anyone else there. Just ahead of her, Azel pulls to a stop, and Emma can make out two men guarding a door. Azel apologizes for intruding, and as both the guards start at the sight of the Living God, he opens the door and walks in.

Catching up, Emma breathlessly repeats Azel’s platitude and runs in after him.

There are many people inside, and they are all reacting in surprise to Azel’s sudden entrance. Some are shouting with joy, and others are crying as if they are experiencing a divine visitation. A very different reaction than the one Azel received at the port. Emma feels like she is watching drowning men clutch at straws.

Azel didn’t seem to even notice the crowd. Instead, without pause, he marches towards the stage.

Emma sees a large vase in the middle. She imagines that this is a fake holy item being auctioned under Azel’s name.

Standing on the stage, Azel calls for the crowd to quiet down. He is very sad, he has heard that there is the sale of holy items, and he sees that the rumors are true. Do they not understand that God’s protection isn’t bought with money?

Did Azel hit his head while outside of Emma’s eyesight? She stares at him in disbelief as he continues. Azel assures the people that God doesn’t need money, otherwise those without money would not receive any protection. God loves all and protects all despite their wealth or status.

Azel’s face and voice is full of compassion and love, if this was the first time Emma interacted with him, she would even believe him. Surprisingly, even after interacting with him, Emma can feel Azel’s voice penetrate her heart and is filled with a holy sensation. Like her, everyone around seems to be holding their breath, waiting for Azel’s next words.

Well, not everyone. The merchants selling the fake divine artifacts try to flee. This snaps the crowd out of their trance and as one they turn against the merchants and begin to form a mob, demanding their money back.

The merchants run out the back way, and the crowd rushes after them, leaving behind an empty auction area of only Emma and Azel. She asks if Azel plans on chasing after the merchants as well, but Azel refuses. He’s not stupid enough to leave behind all this money.

(Azel isn't upset that people are scamming others, he's upset that he's not getting a cut)

Emma asks what meant a few minutes earlier when he was saying that God doesn’t need money.

Well, that was then, and this is now.

Azel beckons Emma forward, her job starts now. It’s easy enough, even an idiot like her can do it. Leaping down from the stage, Azel starts pushing Emma ahead of him into a side door she missed earlier. Emma recognizes one of the merchants in the room and asks how Azel knew that he was there. Azel reminds her that he is a God and tells his slave maid to look sharp. Emma snaps back to her senses and locks the door behind them.

Emma was glared at by the merchant, but Azel moves to stand between them, blocking their line of sight. Azel greets the scammer and drapes a companionable arm around his shoulders and forces him to sit at a nearby table. He and Azel should have a fun chat together.

The scamming merchant’s face is pale.

Azel knows this person. He knows his name, his home address, his workplace, where his family lives, and so on. It seems this merchant has several gambling debts and is having trouble making ends meet. But none of this is Azel’s concern, right? He only care that he was using his name in selling these goods. The compensation should be about . . .

Emma cant hear what Azel says next, but the merchant’s face tightens like he bit into something sour. Emma feels sympathetic with the merchant, but she can only pity him so much, as he was obviously running a terrible business.

Azel is continuing, loud enough for Emma to overhear. Since the merchant has extorted a lot of money out of people using these false holy relics, and he had a recent run of luck at the gambling hall, this is an easy price to pay.

The merchant asks why Azel would ask for that much, and Azel replies that he is the Living God. And, with his divine foresight, he has prepared a loan document for the merchant. He’s a kind god, so he’ll only punish him monetarily. He smiles at the man, as sweet as if a halo was over his head.

Suddenly the merchant hurls himself off the chair, kicking it away and barreling towards Emma, who is directly in front of the door. Azel calls out to Emma that this is her time to shine.

What? Whaaat? This is impossible!

But, if Emma lets this merchant get away, she will never be released from her debt. Thinkign quickly, she grabs a nearby broom and braces herself to whack him.

And then she sees the knife in the merchant’s hand.

Oh. She’s probably going to die.

Noooo! She can’t give up now! Not after all those self-defense classes they made her take while she was Belle! Emma kills the fear in her heart, raising the broom, ready for a broom to knife fight with the merchant.

Suddenly a chair flies from behind the merchant, hitting him hard enough to knock him to the ground. Azel steps on the merchant’s head, grinding his face into the floor, asking if he’s an idiot as well as an incompetent.

Emma wonders if that last bit was directed towards her and not the merchant. At least, Azel is looking at the merchant instead of her.

The benevolent façade is gone, and the change is so complete Azel looks almost like a completely different person.

Azel asks if the merchant thought that he truly could run away from Azel. Does he think that God is that compassionate? That is a ridiculous thought, no God could be that convenient to humanity. The merchant has just made Azel his enemy, he should know the weight of that decision.

Azel is disgusted that scum like this merchant is using God’s name to exploit others. He’s now changed his mind, the loan document is not enough for the merchant to pay for his sins. Adding the crime of pointing a knife at what belongs to Azel, all the merchant’s wordly possessions will be confiscated to pay for the disrespect.

Azel then begins to dig through the merchant’s pockets, eventually pulling out a rusty key and tossing it to Emma. Azel glares at the merchant lying on the ground one last time before standing up, using the merchant as a stepstool.

They find the safe, full of an eye-watering amount of money. Emma thought Azel would keep all of the wealth for himself, but instead he instructs her to call for the knights; they’re going to return the money to the victims of this merchant’s fraud.

That said, Emma did notice Azel taking some for himself.

This was all legal, as Emma would eventually find out. The document Azel made the merchant sign proclaimed that he transferred all his wealth to Azel. Everyone, including the responding knights, bowed down in gratitude to Azel.

Everyone except Emma.

When they are finally alone in the carriage, Emma asks Azel, by chance, if he’s actually really evil. Azel laughs and admits that he was wondering what she would say. Then his smile disappears, and he warns Emma not to say anything else. She has a flash of Azel stomping on the merchant’s head and she closes her eyes, cringing as if she expects Azel to get violent.

After nothing happens, Emma opens her eyes, only to see Azel looking at her with a shocked expression. It's as if her reaction was worse than an insult.

Azel tells Emma that she should learn how to run away. Think of this as a divine prophecy from god, she is going to die if she continues to stick her nose into unnecessary things. Emma asks him not to say such ominous things, and Azel tells her he would love to, but anything else would go over her stupid head.

Azel asks what she was thinking back in the room, he didn’t bring her with him to fight. Emma explains that she was thinking about her debt. Azel is exasperated, he is certain he told her that he wanted her as a distraction. Ugh, maybe it’s on him, and he said it wrong. Next time, he’ll have to dumb his instructions down for her. A lot.

Emma apologizes for causing him to worry, but Azel assures her that he was never worried about her. Instead, he was worried about Silvio, what would happen if he inadvertently offended his beloved prince by getting his favorite killed.

Azel sighs and sulkily kicks Emma’s seat. He’s going to have to add the cost of saving her to the loan document. Emma is aghast, didn’t he just receive a lot of money?

Oh Emma, no matter how much money you have, you never have enough.

Yep, Azel is definitely an evil god.

How can she say such things? And to think she’s special, she has been personally chosen by god to serve him. If anything, she should be bowing down in gratitude.

On another note, Emma’s debt is too high now to just be Azel’s maid for the day. Congratulations, she’s now his newest slave.

Emma refuses.

Azel asks if Emma plans on selling her organs then.

Emma begs god to have mercy on her. Azel smiles benevolently, God has no mercy for humans. Congratulating Emma on her newly extended loan, Azel stands and traps her between him and the carriage seat.

It occurs to Emma that it would be better if she jumped out the window of the carriage.

Gently placing his fingers against her cheek, Azel tells Emma that he intends to have her repay the loan with her body.

Azel Epilogue

Emma covers herself and glares up at Azel. He asks how conceited can she be, but Emma just reminds him that he said to pay  him back using her body.

He did. And he intends to use all of her.

There is a lot of manual labor that needs to be done, after all.

What did she think he meant? Azel laughs, he’ll just add another bit to her debt for this insult.

It wasn’t until the end of the day that Emma truly understood ‘use all of her’. She was so tired, all she wanted to do was fall face-first into bed and sleep. Instead, she limites herself to sitting down and resting her face on a nearby table.

Azel had spent the entire day performing divinations for the people of Benitoite. Since he was a god, and a foreign god at that, people outside of Tanaznite rarely had an opportunity to receive his divine guidance, making the day very busy.

Honestly, Azel would rather not do this, but he wants to keep on Silvio’s good side. As the richest man in the world, Silvio is not only Azel’s number one benefactor, he is also Azel’s friend. And, to maintain that relationship, Azel will visit and bestow God’s blessing on the citizens of Benitoite.

Unfortunately, he can only run a divination for one person at a time, he needs someone to keep everyone waiting organized. Emma will be paying back her debt by lining up supplicants, guiding them to Azel, handling complaints, and more.

All the chores that need to be done outside of divination will be handled by Emma.

Emma asks if he really intends for her to handle this by herself, and Azel does. After all, she is his only slave here in Benitoite. Of course, if she wants him to bring on another worker, they can pull out the loan document and figure out how much debt to add.

Fine. Emma will do her best, by herself.

Not only did Emma have to cater to the needs of the supplicants, but she was also in charge of Azel’s personal requests, such as bringing him food and drinks.

She can’t help but wonder about all the people waiting (impatiently) in line for hours for a chance to consult with the evil god. Maybe Azel’s divinations were really worth all the trouble.

Emma is not present for Azel’s divinations and has no idea what happens once she leads people to him. All she is aware of is how anxious the people waiting in line are, and how full of hope they are when they leave him.

At the end of the day, with her head face down on the table, Emma wonders what a divination is like.

Suddenly a breath blows into her ear, sending a shock through her. She looks up to see Azel’s face right there.

He thanks her for all of her hard work and dismisses her for the day. Emma asks after him, will he also return to his guest room?

Azel likes this room, it has a perfect view of the sunset. She watches as he leans against the window, staring out across the sea. Intrigued by the scenery God is watching, Emma joins him. She remarks that the sunset is beautiful, this room has a clear view of the horizon. Azel asks if she heard him dismiss her, but Emma insists that she likes watching the sunset.

Well, that’s fine. It’s not unpleasant watching the sunset with her.

That’s interesting, Emma thought Azel disliked her. Azel disagrees though he doesn’t like the fact that she is terrible at regulating her emotions. But think, why would he have someone he hates spend the entire day serving him? He’s not the local masochist to put up with that.

That said, Emma is staying here late. Does she want Azel to pay for her lodgings at the castle too?

Emma cuts in, she’s staying because she has a question for him. She noticed that Azel didn’t take any money for his divinations, even though he keeps on taking as much as he can from her.

Azel reminds Emma what he said earlier, God’s protection is equal. Both rich and poor have the right to seek salvation.

Well, that is the official reason, but the truth is that Azel uses divination to gather useful information. For example, he found out that Emma was the latest Belle of Rhodolite. Depending on the time and place, he could use that to extort money from her.

When Azel tells people’s fortune, people like to talk about useless things with him. And, despite his background, he can gather a lot of useful tidbits.

Azel then asks if Emma would like him to divine her fortune. He urges her to accept, for all they know, this might be the last time divine inspiration strikes him, and he might never be able to tell a fortune again.

Emma can’t believe that Azel is making this offer out of the kindness of his heart, but in the end, she is very curious. She agrees.

Azel asks what she has a question about, and Emma asks if any question is acceptable. Azel assures her that it is, after all, he is the Living God.

Okay, Emma would like to know about her future love life. It’s been on her mind to fall in love and settle down soon, and she wonders how that will go.

As soon as she asks, Azel’s benevolent smile twists into a scowl. He wonders why everyone wants to learn about their love lives, it’s really revolting to him.

He tells Emma that if she’s that concerned, go chase after Silvio. To her shock, he explains that Silvio definitely likes her, so that’s her best bet. He gives her a pitying look and says that he has lost his motivation to perform a divination for her.

Emma is upset, she was looking forward to seeing what a divination performed by the Living God would look like.

Okay, fine, if she doesn’t go after Silvio, maybe she’ll meet someone else. Whom? He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care.

Emma argues that Azel’s prediction is far too vague, and Azel tells her that’s the beauty of fortunetelling. He then extends his hand towards Emma. He would like his fee for divining her fortune now.

Emma reminds him that his fortune-telling services are free. Azel assures her that she’s just that special – he charges friends and family more. Emma doesn’t want to be special to Azel, who is more of a fraud-scammer than a real god.

Azel clicks his tongue, Emma never learns, does she? He pinches her cheek, reminding her that he’ll add enduring insults to her overall debt. Emma argues that she wasn’t insulting him, she was telling the truth. Azel snorts, her sincerity takes a certain kind of courage, doesn’t it? This time, Azel’s smile is strange and his grip on her cheek is lighter.

If what Azel said was true and not a deception, Emma will be able to meet a suitable man with good taste. At this point, as long as he’s not Azel, Emma will be happy.

Azel tells her not to worry, he’s not interested in her romantically either. Honestly, their compatibility is the lowest possible, the world would end before they came together.

Besides, instead of think about love, Emma should use her brain to think of a way to repay her debt to Azel. Still teasing Emma’s cheek, Azel’s smile grows dark and evil. When Emma scowls at him, he only laughs.

Really, she would be happy to fall in love with anyone other than this dark-hearted evil god.

(You heard it here first, route is over, no chance of romance between these two)

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Dorm Heads - Sinbad (MAGI) Male Reader

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Sinbad has seven Djinn Equips and there just so happen to be seven characters in this ask, so I sorted each one to whomever fits it the best. The Reader is still from another world, but this time they're from MAGI as the king of Sindria. I hope this is adequate to what you wanted. —Benny🐰

                                                                                                   

🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏

🌹 Please have mercy, Riddle doesn't know how to handle flirting at all! Seriously, stop that! Don't corner him against the wall and lean over him like that! Don't hold his chin between your fingers and lift his head that way! Don't whisper in his ear all sensual-like! Are you trying to kill him!? Really; Riddle might just explode if you continue like this, going by the steam that keeps billowing from his ears. He's never been the object of affection of such a handsome man before; it's flattering and overwhelming at the same time.

🌹 You're a king? You!? But you're so irresponsible; with the way you quite literally run from him every time he tries to make you do your homework. Riddle honestly thought you were lying at first but after seeing how diplomatic you were during the unbirthday party, he actually started to believe it. He later witnesses that when you do your work, you stay holed up in your room until it's completed to perfection. Oftentimes, Riddle will go to you for advice on how to be a better leader for the students of Heartslabyul.

🌹 A gift, for him? Riddle is a little flustered, he's not too used to people getting him things out of the kindness of their heart; it's usually fear that marks the occasion. But what did you get him? Show him, he hates surprises— WHAT THE HELL!? Where in the world did you get this!? How much did this cost you!? What do you mean 'it was only half a billion'!? Congratulations, Riddle is now malfunctioning; he's stuck between being flattered that you'd spend that much money on him and being furious that you didn't use it for something more important.

🌹 Excessive jewelry and other accessories are strictly forbidden; such things could become a distraction to yourself and other students! Wait! Those are weapons!? That's even worse! Riddle is losing his mind with you, right now! You can't bring weapons into a school environment, such things are against the law! He'll have to confiscate them. Unfortunately, Riddle's unique magic doesn't seem to work on you for some reason; so his efforts are always in vain.

🌹 Riddle has his first encounter with your Furfur Djinn Equip when you sapped the light out of his bedroom using its magic. From then onwards you used it to annoy him (read as try to make him relax a bit) whenever he's busy for more than four hours. He would say he hates it, but he can't deny that your demonic-looking appearance is very appealing to the eyes; not that he'd tell you. Riddle secretly wants to touch your horns but he's far too prideful to tell you; too bad you've already noticed his fleeting glances.

🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏

"O‐oh, for me? Thats very kind of you, My Rose. W-wait, how much did you say this was? Half a billion! Why would you spend such a ridiculous amount of money!? My face isn't red— No— Listen to what I'm saying!"

🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾

🦁 Oho? You're a flirt I see, Leona can certainly get behind that. It does help that you're one handsome man as well. Do you wanna lay the charms on him? Go right ahead and do your worst if you're brave enough to face this beast of a man. Just be prepared for when Leona decides to flirt back; too bad for you he's not exactly the chivalrous type. This lazy lion prince is ready to give you the most risqué tongue lashing of your life; figuratively and literally if you're down for it.

🦁 Leona could tell that you were royalty of some type just by the way you dressed, but you also had a certain about you that only natural-born leaders have. He completely understands your aversion to work, he feels it too, work sucks man. You once offered Leona to be your queen, since you were already the king, and to rule Sindria by your side; he may or may not be seriously considering it...

🦁 Being the second prince of the Sunset Savana, Leona is certainly no stranger to expensive gifts, so getting him anything expensive doesn't really surprise you too much. You're rich, he's rich, the gift only cost you half a billion— Wait... half a billion? Leona will absolutely give you a look of complete and utter confusion as to why you think half a billion is such a small sum of money. He can see Ruggie in the background salivating...

🦁 So you're telling him that the jewelry you're wearing can be used as a weapon? Sure.... you'll have to sit Leona down and explain to him about Djinn, metal vessels, dungeons and, dungeon capturing. Well... that is if you can convince him to stay awake long enough to let you explain it. Leona has a bunch of z's to catch, so if you don't mind he'll be taking his long overdue nap now.

🦁 Leona has a love-hate relationship with your Valefor Djinn Equip. On the one hand, he appreciates the beastman-like features that appear when it's equipped as well as the clothing style, but do you have to be so damn cold!? Don't get him wrong, Leona loves cuddling with his boyfriend but your skill has a natural chill to it in that form. It's gotten to the point where he'll refuse to touch you until you go back to normal.

🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾

"AAGH! D‐dammit you're cold, let go of m‐me. How am I s'posed to fall asleep if 'm freezing my ass off? Go back to normal 'n I'll hold you as long 'n as tight as you want, kay?"

🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚

🐙 You're flattery will get you absolutely nowhere! At least, that's what Azul wishes was the truth. Ugh! You're so damn suave and so damn fine that it's killing him! How is he supposed to talk you into signing a contract when you're leaning over his desk and looking at him like you'd eat him if Jade and Floyd weren't in the room!? Poor Azul is ready to pull out his hair with how many revisions you've sweet-talked him into making to the contract. He's got a business to run dammit!

🐙 Oho? A king you say? Perhaps if you would take him there, he could give your people an offer they couldn't refuse. Unfortunately for Azul, any plots he had for trapping you or your people in a deal were swiftly shut down by you holding a sword to his throat. He was equal parts terrified, disappointed, understanding and, really turned on. Azul still wants to go to Sindria though; maybe even as one of your vassals representing Twisted Wonderland's Coral Sea if you'd let him.

🐙 You got him a gift? You're not trying to bribe him or anything are you? Azul is definitely no stranger to attempted bribery considering it happens about once or twice per day. But eventually, after a bit of insisting on your part he'll accept it... and then promptly return it because there is no way you would give him something that looks so expensive for anything other than bribery. If you try an calm his nerves by telling Azul that it only cost you half a billion and it really wasn't that expensive; his blood pressure will skyrocket. Dear lord, save this man...

🐙 My, that's quite a bit of jewelry you have there, you wouldn't mind parting with a few items, would you? Now, now, Azul's only asking for a friend, no need to get up in arms about it. The cecaelia mer, being quite observant, did notice that your jewelry and a few weapons are where you get your otherworldly powers from. While Azul would love to have access to that power, since old habits die hard, he still restrains himself because he doesn't want you to distrust or dislike him.

🐙 Azul is very cautious about your Baal Djinn Equip; lightning and water are not too good a combination in this case. However, he admits must you look very dashing and handsome in the clothes and jewelry you wear; he can't help but take a few glances at your bare chest, your draconic features are also very eye-catching to him and he can't help but briefly think of a certain dragon fae. While Azul usually just observes you from a respectable distance; he's not entirely opposed to being in your arms.

🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚

"H‐handsome? Me? I— if this is some kind of joke it's not funny! Y‐you're flattery will get you no nowhere. N‐now if you would just sign here... Hm? Revision? A D‐DATE! Hold on—!"

🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌

🪲 Aww, you're so nice! Kalim doesn't quite understand why you're so fixated on complimenting him, but he really likes it! He definitely returns the favor tenfold; not just to repay you, but also because he thinks you're a very handsome man. Another thing he doesn't get is why Jamil keeps shooting you sharp looks when you give him some of the weirder compliments. But Kalim doesn't mind too much, even when you back him against a wall, he just takes it as an invitation to cling to you.

🪲 Wow! You're royalty too!? And a king no less! Kalim thinks that's so awesome! You should definitely expect a ton of questions about what it's like to rule an entire country. What kind of responsibilities do you have as king? Do you have to make any hard decisions that could impact your people? What kind of holidays do you have there? Can he go there one day? And so on, and so on. Wait! Where are you going? Kalim still has more questions to ask you; you can't leave yet!

🪲 Wow! Did you get him a gift? You're so nice, it looks so cool too! Kalim is absolutely ecstatic to receive anything from you, be it a conversation, a compliment, physical affection, a gift or even a simple hello! Huh? Half a billion Madol? Okay! Kalim will find you something just as expensive and go out of his way to get a job, save up a bunch of money, and buy it for you! He can't let the gift you gave him go unreciprocated!

🪲 You have genies in your jewelry!? That's so cool! Please call them out so that he can meet them all, Kalim has so many questions! Tell him about all of your dungeon-capturing adventures, he'll be entertained for hours on end. Jamil is crying tears of joy. He will also somehow convince your djinn to come out and share the many adventures that they had with you and their previous holders. Expect to have to tell him at least five of your adventures a day, Kalim doesn't care if you run out of them, you're such a good storyteller.

🪲 Poor Kalim was truly in shock when he saw your Zepar Djinn Equip for the very first time. You got so tiny after that huge light show; he was surprised. For him, this Djinn Equip is his favorite because you're basically a really cute living megaphone. Kalim thinks your round belly is really cute; when you're under a blanket you look like you're holding a pumpkin. He's glad to have a mini boyfriend he can carry around like a teddy bear, it's super fun.

🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌

"WAH! You got small! You're so adorable now! Oh; and your ears are so long too! Can you hear better like that? Hey, what can you in this form? Is it like the other one's you've shown me so far?"

👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑

🪞 Flattery will get you everywhere; especially with Vil! However, this pretty boy has definitely heard it all; or at least he thought he had before he met you. No one had ever been quite so bold with him before. You laid your intentions out on the table right off the bat, and frankly, he found that really hot. I mean, who wouldn't want to be swept off their feet by a handsome king such as yourself? You want to make Vil your queen, you say? Oh my, buy him dinner first, you sly devil.~

🪞 A king, you say? Well, Vil did notice that you had a regal air about you, even if it was a bit overshadowed by that boyish charm of yours. But now you've got him thinking about you're proposition to make him your queen. Were you really serious about that? If you are, Vil has a long list of suggestions that he believes would improve your future shared kingdom. So what if he's never been there before, he's got to make some changes now before he walks into what might be a hot mess.

🪞 Now Vil and his family are quite wealthy, nowhere near royalty, but they still have a hefty sum to their name. This means he is no stranger when it comes to expensive clothing, accessories, skincare, and food. He has absolutely no issues with you spending a ridiculous amount of money on a gift for him. Vil just gives you an ecstatic "Oh! You shouldn't have!"

🪞 What a lovely medley of jewelry you've got there, but um... don't you think it's just a tad bit excessive? Not that you don't look absolutely dashing just the way you are, but maybe take off one or two? Vil only wants the best for you and that means fashion-wise as well. They're your weapons as well? Well, weapon or not, Vil will not allow you to walk around with a clashing color scheme! Rose gold is out of season, you know.

🪞 You know how Vil hates Neige because he feels insecure about his appearance when he's around? Yeah... that's how he feels about your Vepar Djinn Equip. He's never seen such ethereal beauty before and it's eating him up inside! He's torn between admiring his handsome boyfriend and cursing you for being more visually appealing than he is. Vil eventually accepts it though, you are his after all, and as long as he has you he can let it slide, just this once.

👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑

"I didn't call you old, listen closer to what I'm saying to you! I said you had a mature look about you; It's a compliment. Not many men can pull it off like you can, so you should be grateful."

🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱

💀 Stop. Seriously, stop. You will actually kill this man if you start flirting with him in any aspect at all. Even a compliment is a death sentence for Idia. But if you really do desire to send him straight to an early grave, do as you wish. This poor man can barely even function around someone as handsome and imposing as you are. Idia can barely breathe around you, his palms are sweaty, his knees weak, not to mention all the blood loss from his ever-flowing nose due to your sparsely clothed chest.

💀 As if Idia needed any more of a reason to feel like he doesn't deserve to even be near you; he finds out you're a King. Why is this happening to him!? No, he can't go with you back to Sindria! Even if Idia really wants to because it sounds a lot like the kingdom from "WIZ - Maze of Sorcery" and its two sequels; "WIZ - Queendom of Sorcery" and "WIZ - Outings of Bob".

💀 You didn't have to buy him anything, you're going to make him feel bad! Idia doesn't need you to spend money on him, not that he doesn't appreciate it, because he really does. A new box set of a ton of animes that were just released on DVD? Well... you were the one who offered so Idia reluctantly says it's fine. W‐wait... d‐did you say... half a b‐billion... Oh! It looks like he fainted!

💀 Do you think— Would you mind if Idia used some of your magic jewelry for a few of his cosplays? He'll take good care of them, he promises! Actually, if you don’t want to lend him anything, could you... cosplay with him? Idia completely understands if you don't want to, I mean who wants to spend time with him anyway? But... the offer is still up if you ever consider it...

💀 After seeing your Crocell Djinn Equip, Idia finally understood why you weren't at all cautious about his hair. He accidentally went on a tangent about how you reminded him of a character from a manga he read once and how you were like his 'irl SSR Secret Quest Reward, Boyfriend', whatever that meant. Sometimes, Idia will ask you to go into your Djinn Equip so that you can play with his hair like that one scene in that Shoujo anime you both watched together.

🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱

"That's way cool! A mystery boss stage with percentage boost in SSR gear and a companion character too! It's just like 'Last Delusion'! EH!? You've never heard of it!? Come on, I'll show you!"

🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉

🐲 You're not scared of him? At all? You do know who he is right? Malleus Draconia: strongest mage in the NRC, prefect of the infamous Diasomnia dorm, heir to the throne of the Valley of Thorns? You do? Instead of finding him fear-inducing, you called him... gorgeous? Handsome? A sight for sore eyes? Consider Malleus a very flustered and confused dragon fae. He's used to getting compliments from Lilia and his vassals but from you? He feels like he's melting but in a good way. Well... he thinks so, at least.

🐲 A fellow royal? Oh, you're a king too? I hope you don't mind Malleus asking about the details of how you rule over Sidria because he has a lot of questions. He is also set to be the king of the Valley of Thorns in the future, so he wants to gain as much knowledge concerning ruling a country as possible. Malleus's ears are open; tell him anything and everything. How was Sindria established? How do you handle the punishment of your people who break the laws you set in place? Etcetera...

🐲 Malleus is quite wealthy due to his status as the prince of the Valley of Thorns, so he isn't exactly bothered by the thought of receiving expensive gifts. The price of said gift also doesn't seem to phase him. In fact, just like you, he sees such a sum of money as mere pocket change. Malleus is a dragon as well as exceptionally old, he and his grandmother have amassed quite a mountain of wealth in the many years that they have been alive. Nonetheless, he is very grateful for the gift.

🐲 That's quite the lovely set of jewels you have adorning your body there. Please spare this poor dragon boy, he's struggling to hold back his hoarding instincts. His brain is sounding the alarm bells and all he can think is "big shiny, big shiny, big shiny, bi–". Don't be too alarmed if a wild Malleus in his dragon form or otherwise swoops down and whisks you away. Though you may have to worry about leaving his hoard; it will be very difficult, I can assure you. You may just find yourself back where you started; trapped in Malleus's arms.

🐲 Malleus has seen each and every one of your Djinn Equips and if he had to pick a favorite, it would be your Focalor Djinn Equip, followed closely by your Baal Djinn Equip due to draconic appearance. The reason he favors Focalor's is that he can, instead of taking a moonlit stroll, fly through the night in the arms of his boyfriend without needing to go into his dragon form. Malleus had never been swept off his feet, but now he has, literally.

🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉

"Child of man, these dungeons you speak of; did they perhaps house any gargoyles? I couldn't help but ask, what with all the fantastical creatures and items that you mentioned being within them."

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[vantaesfairie]

𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔞 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔡 : 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪 𝔰𝔭 (𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔫𝔢𝔯) 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔲𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔫𝔢

atlty’s tarot readings: art commissions, paid readings, spell ritual comms open!

choose a pile below:

pile 1, crochet plant:

your dream sp: do yall like fixing people,,,,, hmmmmm bc im getting a vibe of i can fix them but you actually do. delusional ass. you want someone who has escaped some sort of bad experiences, or has a bad boy / girl appearance. you want someone who is a born leader, fiery energy, good with money and is ambitious to achieve their own goals. oh you want someone with duality. someone with a peaceful, gentle side to them that they don’t show often, perhaps mysterious or emotionally intuitive. 

your fated sp: someone who has experienced enough to become mature and warm and caring. i don’t think it’s a bad boy / girl. someone who has expertise in their field, master of 1 skill kind of vibe. someone who enjoys learning and travelling, broadening their horizons. idealistic, likes bright colours? that’s a specific message. always looking for chances for entrepreneurship, money making, learning new hobbies and skills, hopping around from one to the next. a fresh breath of air, embodies the sun. 

pile 2, crochet jellyfish: 

your dream sp: are yall stuck on your ex or someone toxic??? you want someone who can fight for you, will burn the world down to save you trope. someone who saves you from the bad things that happen to you. you want someone who can help you clear your mind and take a break, a healing person. someone who ISN’T STUCK ON THE PAST AND DOESN’T WALLOW IN SELF PITY. or maybe you are missing your ex who knows 

your fated sp: they may come in later in your life than you think. you are fated to meet someone who is powerful in their field, respects authority, perhaps religious and traditional. someone who has achieved happiness in all aspects of their life and is willing to share that with you. someone who completes you. kind and family-oriented, emotional, sensitive, and compassionate. balanced masculine and feminine energy. 

pile 3, crochet pasta: 

your dream sp: i think you watch too much tiktok or smut. yall are all FINDING THE SAME TYPE OF GUY. i think you like toxic people who will fight for you. literally physically fight someone off for you. someone who is good in bed and creative. passionate, motivated to work hard, probably athletic especially running. someone who can dominate you, but still be patient and compassionate with you. tamed wild beast typa feeling. 

your fated sp: and guess what you will get someone who will fight for you, but instead of literally fighting they will defend you and this relationship to the very end. someone who likes fairness and justice, could work in the law field. someone who will make sure that they give as much as they take. down to earth, nature-loving, practical and resourceful. willing to hand make things for you. likes to save money perhaps. 

ok i got lazy so i posted this like weeks after i said i was gonna sorries

i hope you enjoyed this pac! please consider purchasing a paid reading or spell service by sliding into my dms. reblog and share if possible! i’d love to know if this resonates to you. thank you so much! 

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical cursing, suggestive themes, brief mention of childbirth, kissing, domestic!Simon, brief military-based discussion

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Part Thirteen of Ink & Needle

Archie's solicitor comes for a visit. Evie goes into labor. You and Simon talk over breakfast.

Chapter Twelve // Chapter Fourteen

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

“Please give me some good news, Mister Grant.”

Leaning against the edge of the kitchen counter, you cross your arms over your chest as Ewan Grant, Archie’s personal solicitor, comes to a stop just inside the entryway. Jennifer Hopkins, the estate agent for Evie and Archie’s house, sits on the couch with her assistant Mollie. The two of them talk in hushed voices, their gazes focused on the stack of paperwork and open laptop computer resting on the coffee table.

Ewan Grant sighs, more from exhaustion than annoyance, as he sets his dark brown briefcase on the counter and removes his tweed coat. The whole situation with Archie’s family has been a hassle for everyone, but Grant speaks with the family directly, and that is an entirely different beast.

“Will Lady Evelyn be joining us?” asks Mr. Grant, adjusting his rain-spattered spectacles.

Evie is upstairs resting. The two of you have been in Cambridge dealing with more house business over the last few days. She’s so close to her due date, and any burst of energy is starting to wear her down. While you’ve taken much of the mental and physical load onto yourself, it doesn’t seem nearly enough to do anything substantial. You’re floating in stasis. Directionless. Unsure of where you’ll float off to.

“Don’t let her hear you call her that,” you chastise, a smile spreading across your face.

Evie might have gained a title when she married Archie, but she rarely enjoys hearing it used. To her, she’s simply Evelyn Green from Southern Missouri, and Archie is—was—Archie. Just Archie. That is how you see them, and it how they’ve always wanted to be seen.

Those are—were—their wishes, and you’ve always respected that.

“Old habits,” he chuckles, removing his glasses and inspecting the lenses.

“You’re forgiven,” you smile. “But really, how are things?”

Mr. Grant reaches into the front pocket of his suit jacket and extracts a small cleaning cloth. “You want to know if the Williams plan on seizing everything?”

You shrug. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

This has been an ongoing issue since Archie’s death. He wasn’t even dead a week before Evie started receiving communications from the family about “cutting off family money,” as if Archie and Evie only lived off what the family was kind enough to give them. It’s a farce. Everything given was promptly donated, and everything Archie and Evie earned on their own belongs to them.

At the end of the day, that is what needs protecting.

Mr. Grant rubs the cloth against one the lenses. “The Williams wish to contest everything. Unfortunately for them, they have little ground to stand on.”

“That’s a good thing then?” you ask hopefully, pushing off from the counter.

“Oh, yes,” nods Mr. Grant, moving the cloth to the other lens. “The family money is the only footing they have, but even that isn’t guaranteed.” He holds out his spectacles for examination. Nodding, he returns them to his face.

“Now,” he continues, opening the briefcase and removing two leather-bound folders. The topmost one he holds up in front of him. It’s thin. “This is everything they could easily lay claim to. In actual court, these assets could be transferred to the family.”

Mr. Grant sets it down on the counter. Reaching for it, you open it up, scanning through the few documents inside.

“There isn’t much here,” you muse, finding the last page blank.

“No, and it’s not anything significant. The family allowance is there but anything gifted cannot be returned. They can only shut the tap off.”

“They’ve already done that,” you mutter, closing the portfolio.

Mr. Grant presents the other portfolio. This one is larger. Thicker. “Everything in here will be much more difficult for them to seize.” He sets this one on top of the other folder. “These are all of Lord and Lady Williams’ assets. Personal investments. Property. Private income.” Mr. Grant adjusts his glasses. “Since there is also a legitimate child and heir, that will also curb much in Lady Evelyn’s favor.”

Your head snaps up. “Are they saying the baby isn’t Archie’s?”

“Goodness, no,” says Mr. Grant quickly, waving his hand in the air. “Not that I have heard. Even if they try, paternity tests are easy to acquire, and contesting the fact without proof will only put them in a bad light.”

You shut the portfolio. “But will they actually do it?”

Mr. Grant frowns. “Challenge the paternity?”

“Try to seize all of Archie’s assets,” you correct.

He nods, lips pursing slightly as he considers his next words. “You want my personal or professional opinion?”

“Both?” you ask with hesitation, wanting to know but also not.

Mr. Grant taps the edge of the counter a few times before speaking. “Professionally, they might. However, it will be an uphill battle. The Williams might be aristocracy, and their titles, land, and money seem infinite at times, but Lady Evelyn is the widow, and she is about to give birth to Lord Archibald’s child. That is far more important in the court’s eyes.”

“How so?” you ask, genuinely curious. As an American, these rules and regulations are entirely foreign to you. Yes, there is vast wealth in the States, but there are no Lords or Dukes or Baronesses.

“No child means most of his assets would revert to the family and Lady Evelyn would likely receive a comfortable settlement. But a child means the assets can move forward so to speak. That’s important to the courts. It shows a continuation. If the family tries to seize everything, it’ll place a shadow over the proceedings. The judge will want to know why when there is an heir for the inheritance.”

“And personally?”

Mr. Grant laughs. “They’re peacocking.”

You grin, covering your mouth as you stifle a snort. “So, I can start moving some of this?” You gesture behind you, indicating the house.

“The Williams Estate hasn’t officially filed anything. However, they are also immediate family, so they can contest the will. Have it picked apart for inconsistencies to make the process unbearable.” He shrugs. “Might tie up some of his assets. Make it more difficult for Lady Evelyn to use them. Assets directly tied to her should be fine.”

“Evie wants to sell the house. Can we do that?”

“The house is under Lord Archibald’s name, not the family’s estate. When I helped draw up the paperwork, I don’t recall a cosigner, but I will go through the records again to make sure.” Mr. Grant glances into the living room before his gaze returns to you. “Everything inside the home is…fair game, as you Americans put it.”

It’s a relief to hear. Evie doesn’t want to look at this place anymore. She wants it gone. If the solicitor is giving the go ahead, you can start selling, donating, or trashing items in the home before the estate agent prepares for showings.

“Thank you, Mister Grant. I’ll make sure Evie sees these and that the information is passed on.” Lifting the portfolios, you tuck them against your chest.

“How is she?” he asks, genuine concern in his tone.

Happy with a fake smile. Crying when she thinks no one is looking.

“Tired,” you answer, because it’s the truth. “She’s tired.”

Mr. Grant nods, sighing softly, his shoulders heaving. “I came here directly from the Williams estate. Usually, I don’t wait long before someone greets me but…”

“But what?” you probe.

He shifts on his feet, clearly agitated. “I don’t know if it’s even my place, but I think it should be said.” Mr. Grant glances over your shoulder at Mollie and Jennifer, the middle of his brow creasing with concern.

“Speak quietly,” you instruct, leaning in a bit.

His gaze lingers on the two women before returning to you. “When I arrived at the Williams estate this morning, I spent almost an hour waiting in the drawing room before anyone came to speak with me. That is highly unusual. Many would consider that not only improper but horrible manners. While I object to their treatment of Lady Evelyn, the family has always been traditional when it comes to hospitality.” He shakes his head. “Tis most strange.”

“Did something happen?”

“Well,” he begins. “Someone came but it was one of the household staff. Brought me tea and some finger sandwiches. Said it would be a bit longer. So, I waited. Waited a bit more. Eventually, I decided to wonder off.” Mr. Grant’s smile is like that of a child who just pulled off a deliciously perfect prank. “The estate itself is one of those old manors. The whole ‘upstairs downstairs’ business. Found a few new hires that don’t know it’s not good to talk.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Apparently, I was kept waiting because someone from British Intelligence was there asking questions about Lord Archibald’s death.”

“He was killed in the States,” you say, even though Mr. Grant already knows this information.

“‘Looking into his death’ is what they said. Sent his body back home without a proper investigation. Lord Archibald is from an important family. Covering all possibilities, I suppose.”

“Should we expect someone?”

Mr. Grant inclines his head. “That would be my guess. Unless Lady Evelyn has already spoken to someone previously.”

You weren’t here for the week of Archie’s death. Evie was completely alone. Someone might have talked to her then.

“I’ll check with her,” you nod. “Thank you for saying something.”

“We certainly don’t need any more unpleasant surprises. Given everything that’s happened.”

You rub at your temples, a headache starting to form there. “You’re talking about Adam.”

Mr. Grant snorts. “Nasty business and a deeply unpleasant man. I’m not surprised by his behavior toward you in the slightest.”

“It’s fine,” you mutter. “It’s over.”

Adam is the last person you want to think about. That entire conversation in the restaurant is just another thing you want to forget. Simon’s fury toward the man sent Adam into a spiral. All the chest-beating silliness between the two men only made things worse. At least, potentially. But you don’t blame Simon for any of it. He was only trying to protect you.

Mr. Grant picks up his coat and begins putting it on. “If the family contacts you directly, refuse. Make sure I’m present for any future interactions.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. I can’t see them wanting to visit us.”

Mr. Grant retrieves his briefcase and the two of you head for the front door. “Though their behavior says otherwise, I suspect they’ll want to see the child.”

“Absolutely not,” you say immediately. “After everything they’ve done?”

He shrugs as he turns the handle. “Like I said. If they make an appearance, call me.”

You watch until his car disappears down the drive. When you reenter the kitchen, Jennifer and Mollie are up and alert, their faces eager.

“Good news?” asks Jennifer, her hands clasped in front of her.

“We can start selling things.” You place one hand on your hip and gesture at the large living room. “But I’m concerned about sticking to a schedule once the baby arrives. If most of this stuff needs to go, I’m not sure how often Evie or I can be here.”

Jennifer nods. “I can bring someone in to do appraisals and estimate the value of everything in the home. Perhaps even host an estate sale to help push it out quickly? You won’t have to lift a finger.”

 “Great,” you reply, throwing up your hands. “Do it.”

Jennifer and Mollie say their goodbyes, exiting quietly, but leaving a mountain of paperwork behind. It’s just more shit piled on top of more shit. It’s a never-ending river of garbage that you’re floating on. One thing can shift, and you’ll slip right down into the swamp.

Outside the patio doors, the sky is gray, and rain falls gently from the low clouds. Autumn is in full swing, nearing Halloween if you have the date right. Once the baby arrives, everything will be different. Evie will need a different kind of support, one you’re absolutely willing to give, but aren’t entirely sure how yet.

And then there is Simon. Your wraith. The man you think about nearly every waking moment.

Stress is eating away at you like termites embedded in wood. It’s dissolving the good memories you’ve recently formed with him. It’s hard to forget what he did in the dark and how he made you feel. Difficult to ignore the sensation of his mouth and tongue between your thighs, or how his fingers slipped inside and curled so sweetly.

It is odd to you that he hasn’t tried for more. Men are pushy creatures. They’re prone to acting in selfishness. At Riot Room, you and Simon were like colliding atoms, exploding and meeting in frenzied repetition. Simon is moving slowly this time. He’s being careful. Maybe he thinks you don’t see it, but that isn’t true.

Your wraith is learning your habits and curiosities. He listens, but he also talks, sometimes pushing to the point that you want to slam your fists against his chest. Simon is gentle. Rough. Sometimes all at once. There is so much comfort in the way he treats you, the way he turns to you when you’re in the same room. It is haunting. Clinging. Occupying your mind and emotions where there is already little to spare.

Every touch and kiss are laced with possession. Every glance and gesture are a mark. A statement of ownership. Yet there is nothing about Simon that feels like a cage. He’s saying mine without barricading you from the world.

And you miss him. All the time.

The moment you’re no longer with Simon, his absence is like an open wound. It cuts deep, leaving hollow spaces behind.

“Did they all leave already?”

You turn at the sound of Evie’s voice. She rubs the sleep from her eyes, dark hair a mess from the pillow.

“Jennifer and Mollie left a bit ago. They’re going to bring in someone to appraise everything. Maybe do an estate sale. If that works for you.”

Evie wraps her cardigan around her tightly, approaching the patio door, coming to a stop beside you. “That seems like a lot of work.”

“You want do it while you’re taking care of a newborn?”

Evie smiles softly. “Not really.”

“Ewan Grant stopped by as well.”

“Archie’s solicitor?” You nod. “And you didn’t wake me?”

“You need the sleep,” you counter. “Plus, if I woke you up, it would take nearly half the day for you to roll out of bed.”

Evie snorts and rubs the top of her belly.

“He left some information about Archie’s assets. We talked about—well…” you trail off, unsure of how to broach such a sensitive topic.

“It’s fine.” Evie lightly squeezes your upper arm. “I can take a look.”

Sucking on your bottom lip, you recall Ewan Grant’s mentioning of the British Intelligence officer coming for a visit. Is this the right time to ask? Should you say anything?

But when will it actually be a good time?

“Evie?”

“Hm?”

“After Archie died, did anyone come visit you?”

Evie frowns. “Many people did. Even his family though I could tell they hated it. Why?”

“I don’t mean family or close friends. People outside of that sphere. Anyone you didn’t expect?”

You’re trying to say it without saying it. The whole thing was a mess. Evie was told that Archie was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that came from the American mouth, not the British one.

Her frown only deepens. “Well, yes. I received plenty of visitors that Archie worked with or went to school with. Mostly people I didn’t know but wanted to give their condolences.”

She’s not picking up on your line of questioning which means you’ll need to be more direct.

“What about police?”

She shrugs. “When his…body came home.” Evie glances out into the rain as her eyes begin to water.

You fear pushing too much, but a surprise visit from British Intelligence sounds mighty inconvenient at the moment.

“Mister Grant brought up a few things during our conversation that I just need some clarity on.”

Evie simply nods, still staring out into the rain.

You’ll ask later. You’ll ask another time. It’s clear that this isn’t the place to do it.

Glancing down at your watch, you groan. “Oh hell. We’re running behind. We need to go, Evie.”

Bags are packed quickly, the two of you returning to London by train.

It’s late, the sun just below the horizon by the time you walk into Amelia’s house. Dinner is reheated, wine is had (only by you and Amelia), and a romantic comedy is watched with a massive bowl of buttery popcorn.

Evie is asleep twenty minutes in, and Amelia follows after thirty. You remain up, watching the rest before waking Evie and sending her off to bed. Amelia eventually finds her way as well. With the quiet, you catch up on a few work emails and finalize several things before sending them off for approval.

When your head hits your pillow, sleep hits you like a fist to the face. There are no dreams to be had, just a dark endlessness you’ll forget upon waking.

But it’s not the alarm or the morning light that wakes you.

It’s a small, warm hand on your shoulder that startles you into consciousness.

“What?” you mutter, turning over onto your back, one hand reaching out in the dark for Evie. You don’t find her, but your palm crosses over dampness. It’s not a cold wet. It’s warm like room temperature bathwater.

You blink a few times, the dark of the room still sitting heavy on your eyelids.

“Evie?” you call out, the dredges of sleep clawing at your vocal cords.

The reply is a whimper, and then a sharp inhalation.

There is fear in that breath, one that startles your senses into action. Reaching for the bedside lamp, you tug on the small chain. The lightbulb illuminates, and with it comes a brightness that makes you flinch.

“Evie?” You twist toward the rest of the room, searching for her.

She’s standing next to the bed, one hand cradling the bottom of her belly, the other resting against the edge of the mattress. Her eyes are wide and there is a dark stain down the insides of her pajama pants.

“Oh God,” you whisper. “It’s happening.”

Evie nods frantically. “It’s happening.”

The air kicks in, blowing gentle heat into the room.

Machines beep. Voices chat beyond the open door. Evie quietly rests in her hospital bed. Her eyes are closed but you’re not entirely sure if she’s sleeping or not. Using your elbow as a support, you rest your chin in your palm, staring down at the adorable little bundle in the hospital-provided bassinet.

The tiny newborn is all pink cheeks and soft coos. Lillian is a precious thing, and named after Archie’s little sister who died young. She’s wrapped up like a human burrito in a white blanket embroidered with yellow ducks. On her head is a pale pink cap.

Lillian wiggles in her wrap, her cooing becoming a disgruntled gurgle like she’s angry at the world but is too tired to voice her frustration.

A soft knock draws your attention away from Lillian and to the open door.

Amelia stands there in a yellow rain coat and black rain boots, both speckled with raindrops. In her arms is a large, flat takeout container. From this distance, you can’t see what’s inside, but you can hazard a few guesses. She’s grinning, her smile stretching toward her ears.

“Hello, Amelia,” sighs Evie, her eyes blinking slowly as she sits up to greet the woman.

“Brought you something,” giggles Amelia like she’s entirely too pleased with herself. She nearly skips over to the bed, presenting the container to Evie.

Pushing off from the ledge you’re leaning on, you go to the side of Evie’s hospital bed, extending the small tray that emerges from the side. Swinging it over Evie’s lap, you secure the safety lock to make sure it doesn’t slip away and spill whatever Amelia has brought.

Amelia sets the massive container down. It nearly dwarfs the tray it sits on. She removes the lid and sets it aside.

“You brought me sushi,” gushes Evie, immediately opening the chopsticks and lining up the packets of soy sauce.

Of everything Evie’s been craving, it’s sushi.

“Oh, yes,” replies Amelia. She glances over at you with a knowing smile, one that immediately puts you on alert. “Brought that, and a few other things.” She nods toward the door.

You immediately turn the moment a large shadow steps into view.

It’s Simon.

He looms like a dark beast in the doorway, not coming in but not leaving either. His gaze is darting everywhere like he’s checking the place out. Simon carries two backpacks. One is draped over his right shoulder and the other over his left. In his right hand, Simon grips a large, black duffle bag. In his other hand, he holds Amelia’s pink purse with white flowers on the strap.

Behind him are two nurses, their faces stricken by his sudden appearance.

Bravo is not with him.

Amelia shrugs. “Needed an escort.”

“In a hospital?” asks Evie, amused.

“It’s like having a scary dog with you,” jokes Amelia, gesturing over her shoulder at Simon. “No one stopped us.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Evie cackles as she tears open a soy sauce packet with her teeth.

Simon enters the room slowly, placing all the bags on the ledge under the window. He pauses there like a phantom, surveying the three of you before heading in your direction. Lillian coos and Simon freezes.

His balaclava-covered head turns to the bassinet. Simon shifts, leaning to the side, staring down at the small bundle. You can’t read his expression. The only thing you can gauge is his gaze. It’s intense, focused, but impassive.

“You should go home and rest, dear.” Amelia’s gentle voice tugs you away from your wraith. You turn back to them just as Evie shoves a piece of sushi into her mouth.

“I’m fine,” you reply, but even you hear the exhaustion. You’ve been at the hospital for nearly a full day, and the time between going to bed and the time that Evie woke you up was only a couple of hours.

You haven’t slept at all.

Amelia tuts. “I knew you’d say that,” she says. “It’s why I brought Simon.” She nods in his direction, but you don’t have to seek him out.

Simon is already beside you, one large hand resting on your lower back. Instinct triggers, and you lean into his touch like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Warmth floods in from where his hand makes contact, invading your system like a virus.

“That’s thoughtful, Amelia.” You lift your hand to gesture toward Evie. “But—”

“Shut up and go,” interrupts Evie as she talks around the sushi in her mouth. “We can manage.”

You open your mouth, another protest forming on your tongue, but Evie is having none of it.

“Go,” she repeats, shaking her head, eyebrows rising toward her hairline as she picks up more food.

You’re not about to argue with a woman who just gave birth.

“Okay,” you agree. “Fine. But call me if anything happens.”

Simon’s hand remains at your back while you retrieve your coat and purse. The two of you take public transit back to Clapton. It is then that the exhaustion truly sets in. The gentle lull of public transit causes you to drift off a few times, but Simon wakes you when it’s time to depart.

He does not take you to his flat. Instead, he takes you to Amelia’s. On the stairs, your feet are lead. They drag, and it’s a wonder how you even make it into the bedroom. Simon does not disturb you, giving you privacy as you shower and change into comfortable clothing.

You never make it back downstairs.

Collapsing face first into the bed, sleep comes suddenly. It is the dipping of the bed beneath you that rouses you briefly from sleep. Reaching out, you find Simon. Your arms wrap around something large and hard. It’s not his arm. Likely his thigh.

It doesn’t matter.

What matters is that he’s warm and perfect and so goddamn close. You snuggle up to him and return to that blissfully dreamless state.

When you wake again, it is with the sun’s rays on your face.

Simon is not in the bed.

Pushing up, you glance around the room. There is no sign of Evie or that anyone has stopped by to grab anything. Stretching your arms over your head, you ease out of bed, surrendering the warm covers for the chilled air in the room.

Downstairs, you find Simon.

He’s in Amelia’s kitchen. There is breakfast on the table and the morning news is on. It plays from the little, boxy television on the counter. It’s muted but closed captioning is on.

“Morning.”

Simon glances over his shoulder. The balaclava is pushed up to his nose, the rim of a tea mug hanging before his mouth.

“Morning,” replies Simon, setting the tea on the counter and striding toward you.

He always does this. The moment he can be near you, Simon takes it, seizing it like he would a prize.

There isn’t a chance to ask a question or reply to Simon’s greeting. His arm snakes around your waist, hauling you against his muscled chest, mouth meeting yours for a kiss that sucks the air from your lungs.

It is fire. It is light. It is a beating heart. Lifeblood.

Simon’s hand cups your cheek, and the possessive, nearly primal way he kisses you softens to a delicateness that sends a tingling sensation down to your toes. His thumb traces over your chin, and then presses against your bottom lip when Simon pulls away.

“Hungry?” he asks, and your stomach answers for you.

There are waffles, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, several types of juice, buttered toast with two kinds of jam, and fried sausage.

“We feeding an army?” you ask, unsure of where to begin.

Simon shrugs. “Idleness makes me nervous.”

“So you made everything in Amelia’s kitchen?” The soft song of the dryer decides to go off immediately following your question. “Are you doing laundry?”

“That a problem?”

You pause. “No.”

Simon smirks behind his mug and takes a sip of tea. Placing the cup back on the table, Simon piles his plate high with extra sausage and eggs.

Leaning forward in your chair, you decide to poke.

“Did you take the trash out?” Simon glances up, the same smirk still plastered on his face. “Vacuum?”

He remains silent.

“Clean the bathrooms?”

“Mop the floors?”

“Remove the weeds from Amelia’s garden?”

“Are you done?” replies Simon blandly, his gaze unwavering.

You shove some toast in your mouth as answer.

Simon leans back in his chair, all casual sensualness. “You’re much better like this,” he says, voice dropping slightly.

“Much better how?” you ask, taking another bite of your toast.

“With your mouth full,” he purrs.

You nearly choke on the bread, cheeks flaming. Simon’s chuckle is soft but victorious. He got you back, and he’s enjoying it.

You cough, dislodging a bit of toast. “Has anyone called?”

Simon nods. “Amelia did. Said she’s being released today.”

“When was this?”

“An hour ago.”

You sigh. “I’m not sure how it is here, but it might be a while yet before they come home.” Simon makes a sound in his throat but says nothing.

The window above the sink is cracked, and from it comes the sounds of traffic and songbirds. Resting an elbow on the table, the last two days come flooding back, infiltrating your head. Ewan Grant’s conversation whispers in your ear, insisting.

British Intelligence.

That’s what he said, and you have no idea if they’ll come to Amelia’s door. But Simon is former military, and he might know something.

“Can I ask you something?”

Simon glances up from his plate. “If it’s to ask about what else I’ve cleaned I don’t want to hear it.”

“No,” you laugh. “No. I—” You pause. “I want to ask about your military service.”

The gentle playfulness melts away replaced by a neutral expression. It’s not unnerving but it does make you cautious about how you’ll approach the subject.

“Is it something specific?” asks Simon.

You shake your head. “Not exactly.”

Simon sets his fork down on his plate. Leaning back in his chair, Simon’s gaze becomes pointed. “You’re worried about something.”

“Is it that obvious?” you mutter.

“What’s wrong? Is it that prick from the pub?”

“No, Simon,” you say quickly, the stress of the last few days coming back like a hammer to the finger.

“Talk to me.” Simon’s voice is so soft, so full of concern that you blurt out the question without second guessing the decision.

“Did you ever work with British Intelligence?”

You glance up and find a blank expression on Simon’s face. He’s no longer leaning in his chair but sitting up, completely stiff and alert.

“I worked with a lot of different agencies. Why?”

You look away, staring at the clock on the wall. “So, you weren’t part of it?”

“No,” replies Simon automatically. “I was part of Special Air Service. Some of my missions happened because of intelligence information but I never directly worked with them.”

It’s helpful, but not. If they come knocking, you don’t know what to expect.

“Why are you asking me this, love? What’s on your mind?”

Sighing, you decide to spit out. You have no reason to hide anything from Simon.

“Archie’s solicitor came by. He mentioned that someone from British Intelligence was at the Williams’ estate. Following up about Archie’s death.”

“Did they come here? To Amelia’s?”

You shake your head. “No, but they might.”

Simon is tense. Not only can you sense it, but you see the tightness in the way he holds himself.

Your voice cracks. “Should I be worried?”

Simon’s shoulders heave as he inhales.

“No,” he says after a long moment. “It’s probably nothing.

“Probably,” you repeat softly, pushing the cold eggs around on your plate.

Probably, as if saying so will somehow make it true.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @childofyuggoth @lialacleaf @theshrikeandcanary @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @creamwhxre @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @cinnabeanz @berarenado @rogerrhqpsody @c0pernicus @josephquinnschesthair @corvusmorte @saoirse06 @therealbloom @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @knight4xmas @jupiternighties @darling006 @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @carma-fanficaddict @beebeechaos @enarien @xxkay15xx @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @mudisgranapat @heeheehoohoohahahihi @i-feel-violated

[kerensilkiss]

Can I request for general relationship headcanons with Fleki and Lycion (separate or together doesn't matter) with a sheltered reader

𝐋𝐘𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐍 & 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐊𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐒/𝐎

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 : lycion & fleki (separate)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : lycion & fleki with a sheltered s/o

𝐚/𝐧 : of course you can! i’m kind of a sheltered person too. and also i’ve become obsessed with this duo lately so thank you for fueling the obsession. anyways, hope you enjoy <3

↳ 𝐋𝐘𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐍

• | he had a feeling you were a sheltered child when you met, just by the way you didn’t understand some of the phrases he said gave him a few hints. he doesn’t mind it though, not understanding certain things doesn’t make you any less of an interesting person, at least to him.

• | he’s definitely up for it if you want to try new things with him, but he won’t ever force you to do something you’re not ready for. but if you’re ready to do something you’ve never done before, he’ll be right behind you if you need something. he wants to see you succeed at new things so seeing you have fun simply going to a festival makes him very happy!

• | he will absolutely use his beast form to intimidate people if you get nervous from being around so many people at once, the crowds at the markets can be quite big and the vendors can be manipulative and conniving people so he doesn’t want you to be taken advantage of. if he does end up somehow being separated from you while you’re trying to buy something, then he will check with you to make sure you’re money wasn’t wasted. and if it isn’t worth the amount of money, he will go back and get your money back.

↳ 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐊𝐈

• | if you are sheltered, fleki will make you unsheltered. she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it either, she just wants you to have fun with her. this elf did not have a single clue that you were sheltered, she just thought that you were joking about not knowing what certain drugs were. when she first mentioned to you that she took shrooms, you were so confused.

“babe, i don’t know exactly how to put this but… i kinda take shrooms. like a lot.”

“shrooms, as in mushrooms?”

“yeah, kinda like the ones you sometimes find the forest.”

“okay?”

“you don’t care?”

“i don’t see the problem with eating mushrooms.”

“…are you sure you know what kind of shrooms i’m talking about?”

• | after that she definitely knew you were sheltered, so she began to take you out to more parties and celebrations with the canaries or accompanying you on side missions in the dungeons. that way you would be introduced to different types of people and could learn more about the world around you rather than you having to stick to what your parents taught you.

• | fleki is also quite an affectionate person so don’t expect her to hold back on showing you that she loves you in public. she could care less about what people think of the two of you and will wrap her arm around your waist or shoulder to prove it. she will initiate affection so you become more comfortable with giving her some in return, but she won’t force you to reciprocate. she knows you’re kind of new to relationships, so she’s trying to make it fun for you.

• | she may play it off, but she does get worried about you while in dungeons. you haven’t witnessed death first hand before like she has before so seeing you nearly have a panic attack over her getting poisoned by a walking mushroom makes her feel a little bad about insisting to pattadol that you should come with them. once she does revive after dying, she’ll try to make you laugh to make you feel better. whether it be some dumb joke she came up with or pinching your cheek, she just wants you to not cry over her.

@𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 - please do not translate or copy my works.