#silver wire pull

[treskoff]

Contemporary Bathroom in Los Angeles Example of a large trendy master white tile and stone slab marble floor bathroom design with flat-panel cabinets, dark wood cabinets, white walls, marble countertops, an integrated sink and a hinged shower door

[blieve-bactive-bhealthy]

Los Angeles Bathroom

An illustration of a sizable, modern master bathroom with white stone slab flooring and marble countertops, flat-panel cabinets, dark wood cabinets, white walls, an integrated sink, and a hinged shower door.

[simplycrazyhunter]

Master Bath Miami Mid-sized contemporary master alcove shower idea with gray walls and porcelain tile, a hinged shower door, flat-panel cabinets, an undermount sink, quartz countertops, dark wood cabinets, and flat-panel cabinets.

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 5; ghoap x reader) part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

-

Give him blood and he’ll give you something new to chew on.

Except that isn’t the way it goes. Not this time at least.

He tries to talk Ghost out of it, but it falls on deaf ears. Blatantly ignored. The car barrels down the motorway under the cloak of night, a swell of stars overhead as the city falls farther behind. Radio shut off. Johnny thinks if Ghost had his way, the radio would’ve been pulled out entirely, just wires and an empty, black cavity in the dashboard, but it’s a rental. 

And no one wants to deal with the paperwork involved in damaging military property. Not even Ghost.

Ghost won’t so much as glance over at him. Unaffected as ever, as if they didn’t just fuck. Johnny’s stomach hurts when he thinks about it. Even without her knowing, he’s broken his girl’s trust. Not for the first time; maybe not even the last. His guilt echoes not only that he let Ghost make him come, but that he liked it—that the buzz in his bones says do it again, please god, again, please let me come, I need to come, touch me, please—

He thinks about his girl, then turns to Ghost again.

In the pit of his stomach, Johnny knows this is wrong. In his rational mind, he knows it. If he were in a better place, he wants to think that he’d make a real attempt to change Ghost’s mind, maybe get him to turn around at the next gas station, but he can’t deny the excitement bubbling in his belly at the prospect of seeing his girl again after a week of nothing. 

The silence has been eating away at him. Bits of his brain flaking away, moth-eaten. Checking his phone again and again to no new messages, getting the same voicemail message whenever he calls. Something flutters high in his chest, an itch he can’t scratch; it tells him to take off in the middle of the night, drive all the way back home and pound on her door until she’s forced to answer it, forced to talk to him face to face.

Again and again, he tries looking at it from her perspective—tries to empathize with her. What he would’ve done in her shoes had she allowed a coworker to grab his dick in front of a crowd of strangers. It’s more than fair, he thinks. His own shame leaks out of his pores in the middle of the night, sleeping on top of the covers because he sweats right through the sheets. 

And yet, he keeps butting up against his own anger. Talk it out with me, yell at me, he growls into her voicemail, anger growing as the days pass one by one. 

It’s the road that alerts him to their arrival into the city more than anything. More cracks in the asphalt, the car rattling over sewer depressions and potholes in a way that says home sweet home. Usually it’s a source of comfort, like seeing the silver lining on grey clouds or the iridescence in an oil spill, purples and greens catching the light. Not now. Now the road winds like descending into the underworld, each turn coming with a sinking feeling. 

They park down the road from the flower shop, tucked just out of sight. A cool breeze wafts over his hot face when he steps out of the car. It nearly rocks him back. When he glances up, his heart stutters at the sight of her bedroom window, sealed tight now. Only cracked open during their sleepovers, when Johnny runs a bit too hot at night for them to sleep comfortably with the window closed. 

“Should I…do ye want me to give her a call to wake her up?” Johnny asks tentatively, shutting the car door softly so as not to make a noise. 

Ghost shakes his head. “We’ll let ourselves in.”

Johnny’s picked hundreds of locks in his time; he’s jimmied open doors with crowbars, set up explosive charges, used a good old fashioned ram from time to time—no stranger to the trade—but it feels decidedly uncomfortable with Ghost at his back, staring down at him as he breaks into his own girlfriend’s apartment. 

“This is a bad idea,” he grumbles, turning the pick in the lock until he hears a familiar click inside. 

Ghost doesn’t answer, just raps his knuckles against the back of Johnny’s head. A silent get a move on. 

Her apartment looks the same but different when they enter it. His muscles remember the layout though. The pink couch in the living room with two dimpled pillows on either side, the footstool by the door, the stand with her shoes all piled in neat little rows, the vase on her kitchen island with a fresh new bundle of flowers, fragrant when he dips his head to take a whiff. He’s loved flowers ever since meeting his girl. 

Ghost doesn’t try to muffle his footsteps for once. He rummages through her cabinets and drawers with all the finesse of a first time burglar looking to get caught. It smacks of intentionality. Johnny’s worked with him too many times in the field to know that if Ghost wanted to disappear into the darkness, he would. He’d be the thing creeping silently through the shadows, tread lighter than air, close enough to touch but never see. 

So it’s more than deliberate when he noisily shuts a drawer. Baiting her out. 

It’s no surprise when Johnny hears her creep around the corner from out of her bedroom. He’s tucked in the shadows of the living room, just out of the light, so he sees her first when she comes silently down the hall, whole body trembling with fear, the bat she keeps beside her bed drawn over a shoulder. Even her hands shake around the grip.

Of course she yelps when Johnny says her name, stepping out of the shadows, swinging wild. He winces when the bat smashes into a lamp, shattering it on impact. 

“Fuck!” she screams, scurrying backwards into the wall behind her. Several framed pictures rattle against the wall, nearly knocked off their hooks. 

“Noisy, isn’t she?” Ghost grumbles from the kitchen, tossing a bored glance over, unbothered by the commotion. He undoubtedly heard her creeping down the hall as well. 

“What the fuck?” she gasps, chest heaving when she breathes. Her eyes dart from Johnny to Ghost’s massive form in the other room. Poor nervous thing. She must recognize Johnny’s voice saying her name even through the panic because her lips droop in a frown, more confused than petrified.

“Hen, it’s jus’ us—nothing to worry about,” Johnny coos, hands stretched out in front of him to show he means no harm. 

It gets her to lower the bat, but only just, the slightest dip that has him darting forward to pry it gently from her hands. The ceramic shards on the floor will have to be swept up later, but he’s relieved that at least she didn’t step on any of them. 

Up close, she’s just as pretty as he remembers. Pretty as pie. How could she not be? In the glow of youth still, not like it's been a decade since they last spoke face to face—only a little over a week. A sight for sore eyes, even though Johnny’s narrow when he stares down at her and thinks about the week of his texts and calls going unanswered. His jaw undulates, rage held back by the thin thread of her scent that wafts under his nose, making him lean into her. 

Breathe in and out. 

“Us?” she repeats, brow furrowing.

She glances over at Ghost again, the man still ambling around the kitchen, at home in her little one bedroom apartment like he visits her frequently. Like it’s his as well. 

“Aye…Ghost wanted to come—Simon wanted to apologize…for the other day,” Johnny explains. 

“You broke into my apartment in the middle of the night…so Simon could apologize for sexually harassing me?” she says, the disbelief smacking in her words. 

“Hen, it's no' nice to say it like that—” 

“No time like the present,” Ghost says, not ashamed in the slightest. “Heard you weren’t taking Johnny’s calls. Might not’ve had to do this if you’d picked up.” 

Johnny doesn’t believe a word of that, but there’s no reason to call him out on it now. 

He can see her wrestle with a trifecta of emotions competing for first place. Anger, embarrassment, and then, a smidge of worry holding up the rear. Aware of the fact that she woke up to two grown men, one practically a stranger, breaking into her apartment under the guise of having a conversation. His heart aches at the thought. The lion’s share of the blame rests with him, but still it’s her that suffers for it. 

“You…you shouldn’t be here,” she rasps, flinching when Johnny lays a hand on her waist, towering over where she’s still cowered against the wall. Bat gone now, defenceless. Her pupils narrow to a pinprick. He almost tuts, poor thing. Scared out of her wits. 

It feels so good to touch her though. Soft and yielding. 

“‘Was Simon’s idea, hen, but, ah—” his breathing picks up when his fingers tighten on her waist and she squirms “—I was goin’ crazy thinkin’ ye were pissed for what happened last week. Couldnae get a wink of sleep—kept closin’ my eyes and seein’ your face. Nearly broke me.”

“I am pissed at you,” she snaps, temper getting the better of her.

“I ken, I ken,” Johnny coos, ducking his head until his lips graze her temple. “Simon’s sorry—we came all the way here so he could tell ye to your face, but fuck, hen, I’m sorry too—shoulda said something instead of standin’ there like a fuckin’ dolt—”

“You should’ve,” she interrupts, still fuming mad, an iceberg melting right in front of them. It makes his cock pulse.

“—Aye, hen, I’ve no excuse, none at all. Shoulda told Simon to fuck off and keep his hands to himself—”

“Careful, Johnny,” Ghost says warningly, finally stepping into the living room. He fills out the archway imposingly, almost forced to twist his body on an angle to step in. 

Her eyes cut over to Ghost, narrowing, lips pursing. Johnny’s heart jumps in his chest. It’s one thing to see his girl again in the flesh, but to see her all righteous and on the verge of an argument—he could bend her over the back of the couch now, sink into the plush, delicate folds of her pussy, reacquaint himself with deep, languid thrusts. Heaven after not getting his cock wet in a week.

He flinches when he thinks about the last person to touch his dick. 

“So you’re sorry?” she says to Ghost, her disbelief clear. Difficult to see why she wouldn’t find it hard to believe that the man that shamelessly grabbed her ass in broad daylight in front of a group of his colleagues and her boyfriend would now choose to apologize. 

Johnny knows the answer is no when he sees the way Ghost’s eyes rove over her body, taking stock of her little cotton pajamas and her bare feet curling against the cold floor. Ghost tilts his head to the side, eyes travelling back up to meet hers. “Sure I am, bird. Don’t I look sorry?”

Neither of them answer that. Arguing with Ghost feels different, like inviting in danger. Moving too suddenly in front of a hungry dog, jowls loose and salivating for a bite. 

He takes a step closer. “Complete pillock, wasn’t I? And now Johnny’s getting the silent treatment ‘cause of it. Just couldn’t bear another second of him moping around base on the verge of tears.” 

Johnny frowns at that. His girl frowns too, but there’s something more to it. He wouldn’t blame her for not accepting Simon’s apology, if he could even call it that—nothing about it rings sincere, more like words spoken softly to call a kitty over—but questioning it feels worse somehow. Like detonating a bomb at two thousand feet above ground. 

“…Okay,” she says instead, voice trembling a little. “Apology accepted. You guys can go home now.”

“Bird’s forgiving, huh, Johnny?” 

Johnny preens despite himself. “Aye. She’s a good girl, Lt. Told ye so.”

Ghost nods. “That’s right. A good girl who’s gonna let us make it up to her ‘til we have to report back in forty-eight hours.”

“Wait, you can’t—” she starts, then cuts herself off when Ghost’s eyes flash.

He can’t help the way he shudders at the helpless look on her face. Downturned eyebrows, pretty lips slack with disbelief, just the slightest hint of a whine building in her throat that dies when it dawns on her that nothing short of calling the cops will make the two of them leave. 

And she’s a good girl—would never call the cops on him. His perfect girl. Sweet as pie. 

Johnny falls in love a little bit more when she presses her squeezed fists against her eyes and exhales. “Fine. I’m too—I’m going back to bed. We can talk about this in the morning.”

Ghost doesn’t react to her acceptance. It’s taken as a simple fact of nature—he says something and it happens. He speaks the world into being. 

“I’ll take the couch,” he grunts, finally sitting down to unlace his boots. He looks comically large on her little couch—it’s more than likely that his feet will hang off the end, if not everything from the knee down. 

Johnny already figured as much. No point in them driving all the way back to base when they both have the next two days off duty and there’s a perfectly serviceable couch for Ghost and the other half of her bed for him. He thought they’d have to convince her a bit more or strong arm her into it (a putrid thought; he’d rather have sweet talked her into the idea), but his girl always manages to surprise him in the best way. 

On that thought, he looks over his shoulder towards the bedroom door, cock throbbing again at the thought of getting to hold his girl’s body against his. Touch starved dog. Mangy mutt, tongue lolling out at even the possibility of a pet. 

Ghost must notice the object of his gaze because he sets him straight. “You can take the floor, Johnny.” 

His tone brooks no argument. When Johnny whirls around, the words already on his tongue, she’s my girl, I’ve already slept in that bed ten times over, the sight of Ghost’s bare face, the mask now off, dangling in his hand like some scrap of fabric, makes him lose his train of thought. It’s not often he’s granted the luxury of seeing Ghost’s face—wide, clean shaven jaw, buzzed blond hair, old burn marks like a half-moon around his eye, nasty old scar slicing through his lips—and to see it now, here, makes something in him give. 

Saturnine man with a wolf’s appetite. Ravenous. 

It burns him that his girl looks slightly relieved at having the bed to herself. Irks him. Makes his jaw clench on a mean remark, half tempted to spit out something cross. Just because things have gotten complicated, now he’s not welcome in her bed? After the week he’s spent toiling, trying to make amends? Pleading desperately over the phone, stewing in guilt and heartache—Johnny knows she’s a good girl, but if he finds out that she’s replaced him with someone else in the week since they last saw each other—

Even the thought makes him see red.

He watches her as she turns around to retreat back to bed, more than a little displeased. 

“Give Johnny a little kiss before bed, why don’t you, bird?” Ghost lightly suggests. Not a suggestion. 

She freezes mid-turn. His expression dares her to put up a fuss. Johnny again nearly clucks his tongue, troubled on her behalf. Her spitfire nature is snuffed out easily under that stare. Grown men with experience in the field wither under Ghost’s stare. It’s no weakness of hers that she acquiesces time and again to his demands, glancing up at Johnny from under her eyelashes before shuffling over, pressing the lightest of kisses to his cheek. 

“Better than that,” Ghost grunts, unimpressed. 

His poor darling. Humiliated now. No skin off his back though. Johnny’s heart pumps double time when she presses her lips to his; soft petals that spread when he slips his tongue into her mouth, too eager after a week of nothing. Touch starved. Desperate to sink into her, lap his tongue over her lips and the roof of her mouth and press her jaw open to spit messily in her mouth. Take it, hen, every piece of me.

She rips her lips from his and dances away when he tries to get his hands on her, eyes wide, casting one last glance over at Ghost before hightailing it back to her room. 

He barely resists going after her. Only Ghost’s stare roots him in place; his voice in Johnny’s head that rumbles, heel. I’ll tell you when to go.

He still doesn’t know what it says about him that he angles himself towards it. Bows his head to it. Moth to a flame that shocks him to the bone when he touches it.

Ghost tosses him the second pillow from the other end of the couch and takes the only blanket for himself. No matter. Johnny’s bivouacked on snowy cliff sides, chilblains blistering his toes for weeks; nights spent camped in torrential downpours, his tent on the verge of collapsing; windswept baysides chilling him to the bone. He can handle a pillow on a hardwood floor. 

The ebb and flux of an ocean in his ear, and then Ghost’s voice from the couch: “I’ll take first watch.”

Whole body falling loose as if snipping a cord tethering him to the world. 

“I’ll clean up the lamp in the morning,” he mumbles, vision already blurring. Ghost hums low in his throat.

He falls asleep with Ghost’s voice in his head, his girl’s taste still in his mouth.

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: YUTA

A/N: Sweet, innocent, puppy-eyed boy who is no better than the frat boys you detest 🤭 (this is for anon who requested a lil crazy special grade sorcerer doing ungodly things!! Shoko feat The Boys ™️ is up next, then I SWEAR I’m done and back to AO3)

C/W: Aged up characters, College AU. Masturbation. Mature, 18+

“YUUTA?! Are you kidding me?”

You stop time.

Heads turn in his direction. But Yuuta doesn’t register any it because of your smile.

The 1000-kilowatt smile that the locker room rumors about. The smile that stops traffic. The one that obliterates his train of thought.

365 days since he’s seen it in person.

And suddently the year in Morocco for his University degree feels frivolous.

Yuuta places two bottles of disgustingly expensive champagne (courtesy of Satoru Gojo) in between the half filled red solo cups.

He’s doing his best to keep his eyes above your delicate, sharp collarbones.

He’s doing his best not to follow the Barbie pink hair string around your neck.

The Barbie pink string connected to the triangular bikini that is defying the laws of gravity, Mother Nature, AND physics to keep your busty, perky chest supported.

Not to mention the sheer netted tissue thin excuse for a cover up. Draped around the curve of your hips. It warms him hotter than the Moroccan sun.

You wire yourself through the crowded sorority house kitchen. And Yuuta gnaws on his inner cheeks. The predatory stares from from the frat drones scattered about ignites a guttural flame.

But he’ll deal with that later.

Because Aphrodite is barreling toward him and he is not worthy.

“I can’t believe you made it!” You launch yourself into him.

“I wouldn’t miss it. Happy 21st birthday, gorgeous.”

One of his arms is more than sufficient enough to wrap around your baby doll frame. Other hand in his pocket, while he easily lifts and spins you around twice.

Airy giggles spill from your lips. So clearly surprised by how strong he has grown. He’s bulkier. More toned. Hell of a lot more confident too.

Is he showing of a little? Of course he is.

“You’re here. You’re really here.” You stare up at him with stars in your eyes. Still in utter disbelief.

Your tiny, warm hands cup his face. Yuuta subconsciously melts into them. You always did strum his body like a harp.

“Yuuta, you must be so tired. Your bedroom eyes are even more…bedroom-y.” You tease.

Yuuta laughs to choke down a groan. He doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s stained mulberry right now.

Because why would you mention a bedroom while you are wearing a bikini he could snap with his eyes?

“Hey, be nice! You know there’s no amount of caffeine that can fix the bags.” Good, fucking save.

He swallows thickly and averts his gaze. If he keeps looking at you, he’d drown. Like how he drowned freshman, sophomore and junior year.

A continent, couple oceans and a sea away from you couldn’t keep him afloat.

A palpable silence drapes over the two of you. There’s so much he wants to say.

“Who’s is the hot guy birthday girl is talking to?”

“Okkotsu, I think.”

“No WAY. If she doesn’t fuck him i—“

“OKAY!!!” You exclaim loudly, prompting giggles from your sorority sisters behind you.

Your cheeks are now matching his. You both burst into incredulous laughter, letting some of the pressure out of the proverbial valve.

“Give me a tour, birthday girl.” Yuuta grazes his fingers over your bare shoulders because he can’t not touch you.

Your hand magnets to his wrist and you both beeline up the stairs. He knows, you know, -you both know- you are heading straight to your bedroom.

Yuuta’s heart is throbbing so hard his whole rib cage is vibrating. Cotton lines every corner of his mouth and he’s suddenly forgotten how to swallow.

Forgotten how to breathe apparently too, because he chokes on air when you pull him to the front of your room door.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you muse playfully.

And now his cock is at full staff. The measly silver zipper is definitely not strong enough for this.

“I-Im sorry?” Yuuta gurgles through the saliva pooled in his mouth like a hungry puppy.

“It’s a pool party, silly. C’mon, you can use my bathroom to change.”

Yuuta makes the mistake of letting his eyes drop down the dip of your pretty spine. Tracing all the way down to your matching bikini bottom. That’s a thong. Lining between your perfect, plump ass.

God.

No.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

He follows behind you, nails digging into his dark jeans.

“Bathroom’s through the closet, be quick.” You flash him another pristine grin and…and..

..what is his name again…?

Yuuta returns your smile with a lopsided one of his own. The walk to the bathroom is 13 miles long. There’s no way. No way he’s going to be able to hide his unreasonable, rock hard length through his weightless swim trunks.

He halts. Suddenly enchanted by your hanging clothes. Like a Venus fly trap. You’re everywhere.

Your clothes. Your delicious scent. Your jewelry. Your shoes.

Yuuta is in the eye of your vortex.

A long, silky sleeve tickles his cheek. So soft. Electric currents surge through every engorged vessel in his cock. He takes in a long drag of the faint cherry vanilla notes etched into your clothes.

An addict. A hopeless, pathetic addict in a field of his vices.

His fingers earthquake against his buckle. Clumsily stepping out of his jeans.

Just a quick touch. It’ll help him relax. Just really fast, you won’t know.

Yuuta whips around to bury himself in your silk shirt. Heart thundering in his ears. Fingers tickling the hem of his trunks. Shaft fully tented from nothing.

“Yuuta? Did you get lost in there?” Your dulcet voice knock Yuuta’s lust-drunk thoughts loose.

“Ha-N-no! I’m c-coming!”

Yuuta shakily unbuttons his white linen shirt, exposing his lean but chisled core. His cock is diamond hard. Any slight movement and his blunt, leaky tip will peek over the hem.

He strategically folds his pants over the indecent bulge. He just has to count backwards from 500 then he’ll soften and leave the jeans behind.

“Come out!! I won’t bite!” You coax again.

The second Yuuta re-emerges from your closet, he digs the heel of his palm into his crotch. Trying to will his erection down by sheer force because counting just won’t do.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning against your palms flat on the duvet.

Your bikini has grown smaller.

It has to have.

Because the way your supple tits spill around the cruel joke that is that top fucks his brain to mush.

Soft curvy lines of your breasts. Feminine pretty lines of your tummy. The swell of your thighs just begging for Yuuta’s lips, his hands…his dick. He could drop to his knees and worship at your alter this second.

“Oh my god!” You giggle again, waving him over to the bed.

“You’re so, big, now.” Your hand lingers on his tensed bicep, currently losing the war against his cock angrily thrashing around in his pants.

“Am I?” Yuuta asks stupidly. Long sentences are off the table.

“Mmhm,” he watches your eyes lazily drink in his face. He must be an embarrassing shade of violet at this point.

Your hand makes its way into his hair and Yuuta just couldn’t choke down the “ohh,” that bubbles out of him.

“God, I’ve missed you, Yuuta.” Your face is so soft. So earnest.

And Yuuta is there with you, he swears he is. It’s just, you’re speaking directly to his cock right now and all the blood has drained from his head to his head.

“I mi-missed you. More.” He manages to grunt out, precum pooling on his thigh.

Hold it together. Fucking hold it together.

You turn your body and scoot closer to him. The peaks and valley of your cleavage, tantalizing him into a mindless fool who can only think about fucking his fist.

“Guys here suck. But not you. You’ve always been amazing,” you murmur, circling feather light shapes against Yuuta’s scalp.

He shudders under your touch. Biting his cheeks so his jaw doesn’t hang open. Drool already threatening to leak from his lips.

“So kind and sweet.” Your eyes drop to his lips at the same that your hand falls to his tensed abs.

And Yuuta is caught in your quick sand. His limbs loosen. Hand on his crotch melts away. Allowing his member to spring upward with all the blood he has in his body. The sudden movement causes his jeans to slide to the floor.

His ears and cheeks burn at his indecency. But he can’t move. He is at your complete mercy. His cock rhythmically pumping out his precum now.

“I..” Yuuta croaks, but in one dizzying motion you dive your lips onto his.

He snaps.

Yuuta’s left hand flies to his neglected, weapy shaft. The friction through his thin trunks evoke a deep moan into your mouth. His other hand grips the back of your head, pressing you forward onto his tongue. He didn’t ask for entry into your lips like he normally would. It’s too dire. He’s too needy.

His hand pumps his length while his tongue maps every corner of your warm mouth. You let out soft, high pitched sighs. Which nearly bring him to finish instantly.

“Oh, Yuuta.” You moan his name. And Yuuta’s hips rut harder into his hands.

He’s hoping, praying you’re too distracted by the bruising kiss to notice the pitiful way he’s bucking his hips. Humping his hand. He’s no better than the guys you were talking about. No better.

“OH BIRTHDAY GIRL!!!!!!” Shrill voices from just outside your door rip you two a mile apart.

Yuuta scrambles to his feet, his arm unsuccessfully covering his crotch. You are panting, thumb stroking your bottom lip. Both of you still brimming with your electric chemistry.

“Enough birthday sex!!! Time for TEQUILA!” Your sorority sisters babble and laugh, about 2 seconds away from opening the door.

You grip the handle. Face and body flushed warm rose.

“I-I-uh I have to-“

“Ye—yeah of course, I’ll meet you, down. I’ll meet you down there.”

Both of your voices nervously collide. Looking everywhere but each other’s eyes. You flutter out in haste. Leaving Yuuta in the middle of your room rock hard and a pre cum covered mess.

Like leaving a fiend with an array of illicit substances.

Yuuta turns on his heel and disappears into your closet. He’s not thinking. Logical thought has long ceased to exist. All he can think about is how much his balls ache for you. How drunk he is off your touch. Your taste. Your smell.

His eyes laser down to a crumpled pair of lace panties just a few paces away from your hamper.

Yuuta’s gaze could burn it through the floor.

Stop, Yuuta. Don’t you dare.

He scolds himself. Even though his hands do the opposite. He drops to his knees and pulls his heavy cock free from its barrier. The other hand toying with your worn panties.

He’s filthy. A dirty, nasty scumbag.

Yuuta tugs his cock, aggressively. Jaw hanging open. Short desperate huffs of air escaping his lips.

No, don’t. Stop. “Nnhhgh s-top…fuck..n-no.” His jagged thoughts and jagged words intertwine. Squelching noises from his arousal pierce through his groans.

Yuuta brings your panties to his nose, and nearly blacks out. Your scent. So fucking delicious. So perfect.

He needs to taste.

His groans become garbled when he stuffs your panties into his mouth. Every single nerve ending in his body ruptures.

Yuuta pumps his cock with both hands. Feverish. Sloppy thrusts of his hips colliding with his white knuckled fists. The world around him dampens. Blurs.

“Nnnghh..uhhgh..f-FUCK,”

Your spit-drenched underwear rolls out of his mouth onto his sensitive tip. Ropes, and ropes and ropes of his cum fill your soft négligée.

Yuuta hangs his head back, leaning against his calves. His dick still twitching through his nirvana.

After a few moments, the fog slowly lifts from his mind. His vision returns. Yuuta wipes the remnants of his arousal off his cock with your panties. Before tucking them into his pocket.

Unable to look himself in the eye, he quickly rinses his hands, intending to rejoin your party at once.

But, when his hand connects with the cold knob, a voice in the back of his mind pipes up.

Take another one.

And in a trance-like state, Yuuta rushes back to your closet hamper to find another pair of your panties.

A pretty, delicate red number catches his eyes and he stuffs it into a free pocket before scurrying out of your room.

He’s no better than them.

He’s worse.

PART II

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: "I don't care that you're hanging up lights, get off the roof!"

Pairing: Malleus Draconia x Gn!Reader/Prefect/Yuu

Genre: Fluff, Slight hurt/comfort

TW: Reader falls off a roof (but they're okay, don't worry)

You were a brave human.

Malleus had made this assumption on your second meeting, when you graced him with that silly nickname that he now held so dear. The casual way you interacted with him may have stemmed from your ignorance regarding his true identity, but to see you continue to use it even after learning he was the heir apparent to Briar Valley had left him with a pleasant warmth in his chest and his cheeks.

He adored every part of you, including that bravery of yours that made him fall for you in the first place.

But dear Sevens, that bravery would be the death of him one day.

"Child of man," he called out to you, a mix of puzzlement and concern in his eyes, "what are you doing up on the roof?"

"Hornton!" You visibly brightened as you noticed him, waving your arm so vigorously at him that he feared you would fall from your place on top of Ramshackle's roof. Malleus took a step ahead, worry flashing in his eyes as he looked up at you.

"I'm hanging up some lights for the winter holidays! Ramshackle's gonna look nice and festive this winter," you spoke, showing him the bundle of wires with lights on them that you had next to you.

"Is it truly necessary?" He asked, acutely aware of the pain in his neck from looking up at you. Was this how you felt when you had to look up at him? Now, that would not do; he would have to find a way to make it so that you wouldn't feel any pain in your neck while looking up-

His train of thought was derailed by the sight of you leaning forward almost dangerously. "I'm gonna be fine, don't worry," you told him, a carefree smile on your face.

"Child of man, Ramshackle has no need to be decorated. It is beautiful just the way it is," and so are you, went unsaid. Malleus took a step closer, talking softly and gently, trying to coax you to come down. "Please, come down before you hurt yourself."

"You worry too much Mal-Mal, I'll be fiNE-"

In your attempt to reassure him, you had taken a step ahead on the roof, slipping and getting your leg tangled in the wire.

Malleus' heart nearly stopped as he saw you fall. He casted a spell almost immediately, catching you mid-air with his magic before letting you down onto the ground carefully.

Your legs gave out beneath you from almost falling to your death, and you sat heavily on the ground. Malleus rushed to you, quickly kneeling to check you for any injuries, even though he had saved you with his magic. You rested your hands on his biceps, trembling slightly due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you allowed him to look you over.

After making sure you were alright, he pulled you into a hug, his larger frame hiding you from view as he held you close to his chest. You held onto him just as tightly, and for the next few minutes you both just sat in silence, holding onto each other and thinking of what could have happened had he not been there.

"Now I understand what Lilia meant when he used to say that Silver and I would shave years off his lifespan whenever we went off into the forest without letting him know," he said after a few tense moments, voice slightly shaky. Your hands held on tighter at his words, feeling guilty. One of his hands curled protectively over your head, while the other rested on your back.

"I-" your throat felt dry, tight. You couldn't get your words out, even as Malleus waited for you to finish your reply. So you settled on squeezing him tight, trying to make him feel your apology for scaring him when you couldn't put it in words.

"Next time, please allow me to do this sort of thing for you, my dear. Even with how long my life is sure to be, I would rather not deal with such stress ever again," he told you gently, smiling when you nodded, your face hidden against him.

He picked you up, and took you inside Ramshackle, your plans of decorating the roof left for another day.

Back to Masterlist...

[rboooks]

The Adoptive Son. Part 2

Dick tries his best to keep his smile as Danny Crowne fumbles with his laptop, attempting to show Dick all the fantastic features he programmed onto it.

Don't be wrong; he enjoys new software, and the stuff Crowne made was awe-inspiring. He just wished it wasn't being used for one of his most disgusting crimes.

Babs, who was recently super into coding, had been all but foaming at the mouth when she got access to the new writing application Crowne Industries put out.

Yes, she got access a bit earlier than most since she hacked into the system attempting to find evidence of criminal activity, but she had tested it out and wanted it for herself.

"This writing program has an automatic save option after a certain amount of time goes by." Crowne blushes a little, looking bashful when Dick sends him a winning smile. "I-ugh, I forget how often computers crash, taking with them hours of work, so hopefully, this will help tired college students. It even has a way to retrieve lost files, just in case something does get deleted."

"Wow, you made all this by yourself? That's so impressive." Dick purrs, allowing his hand to land on Crowne's knee. The other man jumps slightly, looking down at the hand like he's never seen one before. At least this mission was easy.

Crowne's had plenty of people flirt with him over the years of his adoption. Dick had watched him at galas, sidestepping any courtship attempts like a well-practiced waltz. He charmed so many would-be suitors simply by his prince-like mannerism, silver tongue, dripping good looks, and of course, very large wallet.

He had thought it meant that Crowne was experienced in this sort of thing. Imagine his surprise at the beginning of the mission; Crowne fumbled through his flirtations and seemed so awkward it was almost endearing.

Danny Crowne didn't make much sense to Dick in this way.

He quickly became one of Gotham's most eligible bachelors and one of the first openly bisexual ones. Despite his adoptive parents less than ideal views on the gay community, Crowne never hid that part of himself. Once he had taken over the company, he had even gotten charities set up to support the gay youths of Gothams. He practically funded the Pride Celebrations, even more than Bruce, which showed how he became the new head of Crowne Industries

In four short years, he had snatched the company from the jaws of bankruptcy and dragged it to the top again. Everything they made was so revolutionary, even Bruce had been tempted to ask Crowne to join him for the first two years.

Back then, Dick had thought Crowne was weird.

All the guy did was talk about tech, and when he wasn't, he was staring into space or attempting to get into different equipment so he could take it apart and figure it out.

Crowne had been invited to his birthday party a few months after his adoption. Dick had seen him arrive, but he vanished from the room not long after- at the time, he didn't blame the other. The rest of their classmates were snobbish and a pain to be around- he later found Crowne pulling out one of his light sockets to check the wiring in Bruce's house.

It may have been the cheap light he was using, but Dick swore he had seen the guy's eyes glowing while he muttered to himself in an unknown language.

The Crownes had been mortified, forcing Crowne to apologize profoundly for ripping Bruce's things. Bruce had to play his part of Brucie, so he had laughed it off, asking the boy why he had done it in the first place.

" I meant no offense. I apologize for allowing my curiosity to cross a line. I was only interested in how advanced your home is. I figured the Wayne's would indicate where the world's leading systems would be." Fourteen-year-old Danny Crowne had told Bruce with a sweet smile that was far too wide and eyes that were far too bright.

It creeped fourteen-year-old Dick out so much he actively avoided the adoptive son of the Crowne for the last four years.

Now he wishes he had paid a little more attention. Maybe then he would have caught on to Crowne selling street kids on the black market.

"It's nothing, really." Crowne laughs nervously, flushing read as Dick gently rubs his knee. He smirks inwardly as the other man fumbles. "I couldn't have done it without Tim so-"

"Tim?" That's a new name. Dick quickly pressed the recording device that Bruce had installed into his bracelet. He hated that he was working with his ex-mentor again, but this was too big of an issue to allow his hurt feelings to get in the way. There were so many kids at stake.

"Tim Drake. His parents are out of the country a lot, so I started babysitting him when he was eight. He's thirteen now, but I got temporary guardianship of him when I turned eighteen. He's my pride and joy. " Crowne clarifies with a growing smile. Dick wanted to punch his teeth in for acting so loving, so caring, so fucking kind when it came to children.

He swallows the urge with incredible difficulty. "He sounds great."

He did know Timothy Drake, actually. The boy was his neighbor for years but didn't stand out much. He always looked like a little doll at the galas, vanishing from sight once his parents' backs were turned.

Dick often thought the boy was out of the country with his parents, primarily when they enrolled him in homeschool when he turned eight.

To think the Drakes were working on making a good relationship with Crowne since he first showed up, and no one within the Bats noticed. It was a little troubling.

Were the Drakes involved with the trafficking ring? Were the world trips just a means to smother out poor victims? Were they using their son, or was Tim Drake part of the scheme?

More questions and not enough answers.

"Y-you could meet him if you want," Crowne coughs, playing with a specialized keyboard- it was so flat. Dick had never seen a slimmer design- his face was a lovely red hue. "I have him for this month, so he's back at my apartment with his babysitter."

Perfect an opening.

"Mr. Crowne, are you inviting me back to yours?" Dick asks, allowing his voice to turn husky with sinful promise.

Crowne face turns even redder. "I didn't mean to assume, but...ugh, are you hitting on me?"

Dick almost laughs.

"I am." He says even as he thinks If only you weren't a scum bag. You are not ever going to get this lucky, you disgusting pig.

"Thank the Ancients. I was worried I may have interpreted your intentions. I would be honored if you accompanied me home-but, not for sex! I mean, I wouldn't be opposed to sex at a later date-just dinner? I can cook." Crowne closes his eyes as if pained, and Dick wishes he was the person he was pretending to be.

Oh well.

They all have their own masks.

Dick just happens to be someone who was bestowed with a criminal. He slips it on as quickly as his NightWing one, throwing an arm over Crowne and placing a tracker on his neck. The bastard didn't even notice. Good.

"I would love that Crowne."

"Danny." The man says with a warm relieved smile. "You can call me Danny."

"Then you can call me Dick"

Dick will have this man rotting away in a jail cell soon. He swears it.

(Part 1) (part 3)

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Stories:

The Tooth Fairy (prequel)

Yandere Serial Killer x GN Reader

A bracelet made of pearly, white incisors was placed under your pillow. Silver wire intricately held each tooth in place to form a grotesque version of jewelry. A mockery of the silver bracelet that had recently gone missing under your nose.

A bit of dried blood on the crown of the two teeth which brought a shiver down your spine. Who on earth would bring you such macabre tokens of affection?

You sighed and analyzed the bracelet. This was the fifth piece of handmade jewelry, if you could call it that, in the last few months.

You placed it with the other trinkets on your dresser. A pair of earrings made of human canines and a necklace made with various premolars and molars. And now you had a matching bracelet for your grotesque jewelry from your secret admirer.

You glanced at your window that had the lock obviously tampered with. Whoever they were, they always managed to break in without your knowledge. Were you still waking up and that was why you were so nonchalant about it? Or was it your fascination with serial killers that made you less inclined to notify the police of your… growing collection.

You rubbed your temple as you felt an impending headache grasp you in its hold. No… you couldn’t reject them. Gods only knew what they’d do if you reject them. Kill you? Pull your teeth out one by one? Torture you? You didn’t want to find out, so you became an unwilling accomplice to this matters individuals scheme. Whatever that may be.

You began to get ready for work at the dentist office but not before you checked your reflection.

Your fingers poked at the corners of your mouth to turn your lips into a smile. Your teeth now on display in this fake display of happiness, the perfect costumer service face.

“Smile…” Because you never know who was watching you.

.

.

.

You sat at your desk with your signature customer service smile and sugar sweet voice. A smile that never quite reached your eyes, but it got the point across to the various customers that came in for their dental appointments.

Another day in your other wise boring life save for the obtuse way you handled your stalker. Perhaps you should buy a gun? You’ve never fired a firearm before so you’d need training…

“Good morning!” You nearly jumped out of your skin when the dentist, Dorian Zimmerman, placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Jesus, Dorian! You scared me.” You clutched your chest as your heart nearly escaped from your chest. An amused smile on his face as he eyed you up and down.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so lost in thought.” Dorian shrugged while he scanned the list for every patient. “Will there ever be a day I see you on this list?”

You shook your head. “No, I still go to my family dentist.”

Dorian sighed, “a shame. I’d love to look at your pretty teeth.”

Dorian sauntered off, but not before he cast you one last look. “Can you stay over a bit today? I have something for you.”

“Okay.” You agreed, there was nothing weird about the dentist asking you to stay over, right?

Dorian expression lit up like the sun. “Great. I’ll see you then.”

He then ducked around the bend to get back to his customers. You then diligently went back to your front desk duties.

“He has such pretty teeth.” You whispered to yourself before you noticed a man in all black in front of your desk. “Oh hello, do you have an appointment?”

The tanned man clicked his tongue, his gray eyes glanced you up and down. “Yes. My name is Zahn. Zahn Pain.”

Oh, it seemed you had an edge lord on your hands. But perhaps you were making assumptions based on his gothic appearance and prominent eye bags. His choice of jewelry was rather interesting as well… various animal teeth and crystals were parts of his necklaces, rings, and even earrings.

“Ah yes, your appointment is in about fifteen minutes-“ you were shocked when he placed his face closer to the glass, his eyes locked you in place like a predator staring down his prey.

“Do you like the dentist’s teeth?” Zahn muttered, his hands shook a bit while his face remained unreadable and stoic.

“Oh? Doctor Zimmerman has to have nice teeth to show his clients.” You nervously laugh which made Zahn back down. Why was he so strange?

Zahn hummed and shoved his hands in his leather jacket’s pockets. “I think your teeth are prettier since they’re not veneers. Have more personality.”

You thought for a moment. You hadn’t realized Dorian had veneers… which would explain their uncanny valley perfection. Zahn was surprising observant.

The gothic boy took a seat far away from the other patients in the very back of the lobby that had the perfect view of your desk. His gray eyes bore holes in your head while you continued to work.

You just couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that pooled in your stomach…

[piratefishmama]

There was just something magical about a good Renaissance Faire. Something in the air that set Eddie’s little crow brain alight with excitement. Especially around December when Christmas loomed around the corner and snow dusted the ground.

Be it the shiny trinkets dangling from wooden hooks amidst the old wooden stalls, be it the haggling voices of stall vendors and customers, all dressed in garbs they’d likely sewn, dyed, modelled themselves, the smells of the food stalls, the glow of twinkling fairy lights reflecting on the snow, the music played on lutes and sang from haybales for gathering crowds, be it the energy of likeminded folks all there to be a little bit weird, joyously, freely, without shame or judgement.

He could be himself there.

Dressed to the nines in layered fabrics purposefully aged and torn to simulate era appropriate wear and tear. His hair held silver trinkets, tied up by lengths of dark fabric in a messy up-do that’d taken Wayne a good few hours to figure out, and would no doubt take them both a hell of a lot of huffing and puffing to remove without cutting it out later. He had a cloak made out of a thick set of curtains he’d thrifted, dyed, and repurposed.

He had his bag, something he’d sewn himself out of extra fabric from those curtains, made with plenty of little pockets and places to put his spoils, he’d saved up for months to get as much out of this faire as possible because things weren’t CHEAP there.

Most things were handmade, most things were lovingly crafted by gifted individuals. He didn’t even want to haggle, he had money specifically for the faire! He was going to spend money on the endlessly talented individuals at the faire!

He got himself a new journal, leather bound with thick blank pages for sketching in. it was embossed with intricate swirling patterns around a pentagram that he’d absolutely get shit for if he ever pulled it out in public but it was beautiful, and it had a cool swing lock clasp.

He got himself a pretty necklace, wire wrapped with a fancy gem that he’d keep safe to use as a prop at some point.

He found some beautiful homemade dice, made in such a way that it looked like liquid moved inside of the dice, little flecks of glitter sloshing around a cloudy liquid inside the green tinted gold leaf inlaid resin with every roll, beautiful, eye catching, immensely satisfying to his little crow brain. Surprisingly enough they were the most expensive purchase he’d made at the faire, tiny little dice, fifty whole dollars. Not the most expensive thing he’d seen there, but definitely the most expensive thing he now owned from the trip.

They came with an incredibly pretty velvet dice bag though, which he hadn’t expected to get as a little freebie but the girl at the stall winked at him when she handed it over and wasn’t that a trip. The fabric was dyed to look like some kind of galaxy, with little silver and gold stars embroidered into it.

It made those dice a steal and he would treasure it and them, always.

He perused the fabric stalls, getting himself a cool hand painted scarf, detailed with a beautiful dragon that he’d find a good frame for later to hang up because it would not be worn, no siree. He grabbed a cool hand carved wooden mug for Wayne that looked like something straight out of a Viking’s mead hall, he’d give it to him for Christmas.

He got himself some food. He watched a joust, got a photo with the riders and their horses, one of which tried nibbling his hair, tipped the riders, and very quickly found himself running low on cash.

All that scrimping, and saving, and dealing… worth it. So very worth it.

So sue him if he looped back around and walked through again, he couldn’t afford much of anything else, he’d spent his last ten spot on a fridge magnet, had five left for gas station snacks on the way home, but that was fine, he could take photos, he’d borrowed Gareth’s camera, Gareth would have come but his parents had one stipulation for him attending the faire, and that was taking his failing grade in biology, and upping it to something that at least predicted a pass before thanksgiving.

He’d failed, and no amount of grovelling could fix it. No Ren Faire for you good sir!

Jeff was out of town with his family on some ‘visit all the out of state family members before Christmas snowstorms lock everything down’ country wide tour. And Dougie couldn’t get the time off his part time job to go.

So Eddie had promised plenty of photos to show them what they missed out on.

It was the very last stall at the end of the strip that caught his attention. Maybe it was the way the dying sunlight hit it, or the way the wind caught the chimes dangling from its flimsy rafters, he felt… called to it. Drawn to it like a moth to a flame and who was he, but a lowly little moth, to ignore the call of the fire?

So he wandered over, let himself be drawn in, offered a friendly little finger wave to the greying woman sat behind a makeshift counter wrapped in shawls and decorated in silver jewellery that jingled as she worked a single crotchet hook into a slowly coming together wine red shawl. The woman offered him a simple bow of her head and a small smile in response but no sales pitch.

No conversation of any kind really, she simply sat there while he looked, crocheting away without a care in the world. He could appreciate that, not being bothered by pushy sales tactic, especially when he had so few funds left to play with, he always felt guilty when he couldn’t afford what they were selling.

Like why was he even there if he had no money to spend?

The old woman didn’t do that, allowing him to wander through her surprisingly large stall full of little trinkets and goodies uninterrupted, which was for the best because had she spoke, he might not have stayed long enough to spot it. Amidst the little boxes decorated with carved patterns and pretty gemstones, amidst the scarves, crocheted bags, amidst the leather work belts, and wallets sat a single, solitary little bottle.

Sealed with a cork coated in wax and pressed with a decorative seal in a shape too worn down to really make out but obvious that it’d at one point had a shape. The bottle was hand blown, not manufactured, lightly frosted a dark brown to a brilliant amber around its square base, the colour crept up the smooth sides towards its seal, like a diamond in shape.

The bottle wasn’t empty either.

Much like the dice that’d caught his crow brain hook line and sinker earlier, this little bottle was filled with some kind of liquid. It swirled like a galaxy inside, and at the centre a brilliant light that looked like it held its own sun, always at the centre of the swirl, never distorting or shifting out of place, eternal in its circular flow.

It was warm in his hands. He didn’t even realise he’d picked it up.

“Two dollars.” Eddie damn near jumped out of his skin, whirling around, the bottle tight in his grip. That old woman had moved. And she’d done so with a quiet stealth some might attribute to a ninja, which was impressive considering how much jewellery she wore.

“Huh?” So eloquent of him.

“Just two dollars, child. The bottle? It is… calling to you, yes?” He couldn’t place her accent, something foreign, European maybe, he had no idea but it definitely didn’t sound any parts American. “I take two dollars for it, will bring you luck.” He looked back to the bottle, eyeing the swirl that still held its pattern even as he’d jostled it, like nothing could knock it out of its gentle swirl, then back to the old woman.

What was two dollars, really?

He had five left, if nothing else the bottle could make a really cool prop, and if it did bring him luck, then hey bonus. Who was he to argue with a mysterious old lady at a Renaissance Faire? “You uh… you got yourself a deal, ma’am.” She smiled brightly at him, eyes alight with both happiness and… something else, something that reflected in the light that he didn’t think hard enough about. She accepted the five dollars he had left, she gave him his change, and a little paper bag filled with tissue to hold his new purchase, which he didn’t really need as he put it right into his own bag after receiving his change, and then she sent him on his way, uncaring as to whether or not he wanted to look at her other wares.

He’d gotten the bottle. Nothing else mattered apparently. Maybe he should have found that suspicious, but why would he?

As soon as he left the little stall, all thought of it seemed to wash away from his mind leaving him freely wandering back to the entrance where his trusty steed, his Van, awaited him to take him home. Blissfully unaware of the little bottle he’d just purchased. Blissfully forgetful of the stall he’d visited, of the old woman he’d just met, of her smile, her eyes, her mysterious accent.

All of which was for the best, really, as if he’d thought about it, if he’d taken a single moment to stop and look back to the little stall at the end of the row, the little stall that held more treasures than it should have been able to for its size, if he’d looked back to wave his goodbyes to the old woman and her treasures, he’d have found nothing.

No stall, no woman, no trinkets or treasures. Just a single row of recycling bins and benches.

But he didn’t look back.

Definitely for the best.

Part 2

[dixonsgirl93]

Birthday Gift

“Happy Birthday.” Daryl turned to you, producing a little blue box with a white bow on top. It looked clean, like it had been tucked away, waiting for this moment since the outbreak.

“What?” You said, staring at the box, heart beating a little faster. Images floated around your mind about what could be inside.

“I remember you sayin’ a few months ago that today was your birthday.” He explained as you took the box into your hands. It was light. “I found it a while back.”

You looked at him but his expression was neutral, as it usually ever was. He looked back, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. Was it a nervous habit? Was he even aware he was doing it?

“That’s so thoughtful.” You looked back at the box, rubbing a thumb over the silky little bow.

“Well? Ain’t ya gonna open it?” He sounded anxious so you pulled the lid off. Inside was a blue gemstone wrapped in thin silver wire with a delicate design to keep it encapsulated but visible. It was attached to a long chain.

“It’s beautiful.” You pulled it out of the box and held it up against the sunlight. “You said you found this? Where?”

You felt him shrug next to you, your eyes still on his gift. “Well, I found the parts. Put it together maself.”

You turned your head to him sharply. “Wait. You made it? For me?” You felt a blush warm your cheeks. He shrugged again. “Don’t act like that’s no big deal. Not many people would do that, especially for someone they hardly know.”

“Hardly? If I only knew what you told me then sure.”

“Thank you for the gift.” You leaned over and planted a short kiss on his stubbly cheek.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

“S’nothin. Glad ya like it.” He stood up from the steps. “I gotta…uh…check on Judith. Later.”

[itsswritten]

when the sea calls for three | intro

Paring: Azriel x Reader x Eris

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: In the aftermath of war, peace reigns over the realms of Prythian, but the delicate balance hangs in the hands of two unlikely mediators—You and Lucien. As the newly appointed Emissaries of Peace, your duty is clear: maintain alliances, foster understanding between courts, and navigate the intricate webs of fae politics.

But when fate deals an unexpected twist, revealing that you possess not one, but two mates, the tranquillity you've worked so hard to uphold is suddenly threatened. Caught between two males who refuse to share, you find yourself thrust into a precarious position, torn between duty and desire.

What will you do and who will you choose?

I need you.

Those three words were all it took.

༄ 

In the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the room, flickering reflections of pinks and purples across the walls. Dawn Court had always been radiant, the sky, cobalt and rose. A sunrise all day long. You were proud to call it your home. 

You stood before the ornate mirror, fingers delicately adjusting the intricate buttons of your tunic. 

The decision to choose neutral clothing had been yours, a deliberate choice born from the realisation of what your new role weighed. You were to be a mediator, a peacekeeper, it only seemed fitting to don a uniform that symbolised your neutrality and dedication to maintaining balance among the realms.

The fabric shimmered with a subtle elegance, adorned with delicate motifs that whispered of the courts you now served. The tapestry of symbolism spoke something that words could not, of a new beginning, a new chapter– a time of peace.

The design along the back of your tunic, three majestic mountains rose proudly, their peaks reaching towards the heavens. Behind them, the sun emerged, casting its golden rays that spread warmth and light– a nod to your home.

In the left above, a fully fleshed sun beamed down upon the mountains, radiating its brilliance and vitality. To the right, three stars and a crescent moon were sewn with meticulous care, representing the rest of the solar courts and their celestial splendour.

On your left sleeve, leaves were hand stitched along your cuff,  bronze thread danced in a graceful swirl, climbing upwards towards your elbow, mirroring the silver icy shards that adorned the right sleeve. Autumn and Winter in perfect harmony. 

Around your collar, a delicate pattern of vines and roses intertwined, symbolising the beauty and vitality of the Spring Court's bloom. And along the trimmings of the tunic's bottom, waves swirled in a mesmerising dance, evoking the Summer Court's boundless energy and fluidity.

Your tunic jacket cascaded gracefully, halting just at your hips, while beneath it, a long, flowing cream pleated skirt billowed elegantly to the floor. With your hair initially draping freely, you gently pulled it forward, ensuring the intricate details adorning the back of your tunic were given their rightful moment to shine.

As you smoothed the fabric, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in the role you had been given. Playing a bridge between courts, and worlds. A mediator between the people. 

Politics had never really been something you relished in, but you were good with people, and good with your words. Qualities that your friend desperately convinced you, were integral to this role.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your reverie, and you turned to see Lucien, your friend, standing in the doorway. His mechanical eye wiring at the sight of you. He was wearing a similar tunic, one that was longer on his body but mirrored the designs of your own.

It was Lucien who had told you he needed you. 

I need you.

He had written to you one evening. His correspondences were usually lighthearted and filled with friendly banter, but this weighed heavily in a way that was so unlike him.

“I could really use your help.” Lucien had breathed, when you came to visit after his letter.

I need you. I need my friend. I need someone to lean on. I need someone to laugh with. It’s been too long. I miss you. 

Was what you heard. His message had been simple yet poignant, a plea for assistance and companionship.

You had always had a way with words and sounds. Understanding the gaps in between the breaths, the underlying emotions and intentions woven into each syllable. Most didn't realise what could be revealed in their words. How the octaves and melodic tones of their tongues sung of unspoken truths.

Lucien and you had shared a friendship that spanned many years, reaching back to your earliest memories of childhood. As children and teens, you had been inseparable, playmates in a time that now felt like a distant memory. However, when borders grew stricter and tensions mounted, those days were abruptly halted.

It wasn't until the dark days of Amarantha's reign that fate brought you back together, through the intervention of Nuan, a mutual friend. She was a skilled Alchemist of your court, who had aided Lucein in his healing, crafting his beautiful golden eye. And because he was no longer a part of Autumn, you were able to reconnect and your friendship flourished, even if it was predominantly through ink and parchment.

"Ready to face them?" he asked with a tight smile, his voice carrying a note of anticipation.

I’m nervous. Is what you heard under his words.

You returned his smile with a nod, a playful glint dancing in your eyes. “Of course, I was born ready Lucie” you replied, effortlessly flicking his nickname with a casual ease. 

Despite having a smart mouth now, Lucien was a name you often got tongue-tied in your younger years. Lucie had been a much easier sound to make, and you didn’t hesitate to use the endearing name when wanting to tease.

Lucien rolled his eyes, but your casual demeanour softened the nerves that had laced his previous words. That had been your intention.

Just one example of how your intuition always left you saying the right thing. Of course there were times this didn’t happen, but those occasions were extremely rare.

“We should decide which courts reside under our care before the meeting” Lucien began, striding in front of the mirror to adjust his own tunic. “And I have to say you’ve made more progress with Tamlin these past two months than I have in the past year," Lucien breathed, a hint of admiration in his voice while he smiled at you through the mirror.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "What, like it was hard?"

Tamlin's stubbornness had been a challenge, but your natural charisma and persuasion had proven effective in bridging the gap between his court and the others. His residents had at least started returning home, and thanks to your work, there was actually something for them to return to.

You huffed, before turning your friend around, pulling at his collar to adjust. Before tidying up his long auburn hair. 

"I can’t do both though Lucien. I'm not dealing with your brothers and Tamlin. That's too much, even for me” You remarked.

Lucien’s relationship with his brothers remained strained, the scars of their shared trauma running deep. Despite Beron’s demise, Eris was now Autumn’s High Lord. The brothers wounds were not so easily healed, and the weight of their history continued to cast a shadow over their interactions.

“Plus I do believe some forced proximity may do you and Tamlin some good” you pointed a look at him, referencing their damaged friendship.

Lucien bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing at you. He couldn’t help but envy how effortlessly you seemed to navigate the complexities of every situation, every conversation. Always knowing the right words to say, and the right actions to take. Qualities that had undoubtedly drawn him to seek your assistance in the first place. 

Qualities he forgot he would also be susceptible to.

"I'll look after Autumn and your hotheaded brothers. You deal with the depressed blondie," you suggested, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes.

"Fine," Lucien conceded, begrudgingly acknowledging the wisdom in your words.

“I want Dawn, it’s my home and Thesan would be heartbroken if I wasn’t his courtier,” you asserted confidently.

"Then I'll have Day," Lucien negotiated, a hint of determination in his tone.

As the conversation turned to the remaining courts, you paused, considering the options carefully. The Night Court held a particular significance for Lucien, given his mate's presence there, but you were keenly aware of the tension that still lingered between them.

"I can take Night if that helps. I've already been the one updating their Spymaster recently anyway," you offered, your voice steady as you finally finished straightening up Lucien. Pulling your hands swiftly behind your back.

He mirrored your pose "Then I will manage Winter," Lucien conceded, a sense of resignation colouring his words. He wasn’t very fond of the cold, but neither were you. 

But he was happy to take this one for you, as you had taken Autumn and Night for him.

"Summer is mine. You can have the humans, your Band of Rejects or whatever they're called," you remarked playfully.

"Exiles," Lucien corrected with a humorous purr, a brief flicker of amusement softening his eyes.

“Apologies…band of exile…-d rejects” you humoured, before you felt him nudge you with his shoulder.

Your soft laughs filled the room before you tilted your head to look at your dearest friend “Look at you now. Exiled no more. Mr. Emissary of Peace” 

Lucien smiled proudly at the title, he had come a long way. This new chapter for Phrytian was daunting, but he was grateful to have you by his side “You ready?”

With a nod you grinned wide “Let’s go peacekeep the fuck out of them Lucie!” 

Next Part >>

a/n: Eeeekkkk so here's a little intro to set the tone and roles! Just a little disclaimer, there will be a few things in this series that haven't happened in the books, but it works for the plot. Only small things, so just go with it please! Excited to share this story with you all <3 - Lottie x

[ezelium]

I'LL BE ON MY BEST BEHAVIOUR : Boothill

CONTENT : realizing boothill can't feel on his metal plates.

WARNINGS : gn!reader, fluff, written before boothills release idk, reader is in a 😒 mood

WORD COUNT : 0.6k !

A / N : i read somewhere boothill doesn't feel anything on anywhere else except his face because he doesn't have skin to sense things there and this makes great fluff sauce so i couldn't resist.. "But don't you only write for bsd?" shhSHUSH SHUSH!!

Boothill, a mechanical robot.

One that drifts among the stars. One that you held close to your heart. You didn't meet him long ago, in fact, it was only a while ago. He was unhinged and "weird", sure.. but who could deny such a silly man from being their friend?

As far as you knew, he wasn't doing anything wrong. Nor that he thought he did. Him being impertinent wasn't bothering you, not at all. Everybody had flaws, imperfections, problems. Did that stop people from loving them? No, absolutely not. Why should he be treated differently? In fact — He should be treated specially to learn how to act more "human".

Or maybe that's just how you thought, you had hopes for him, hoped he would somewhat grow human-like feelings.

You knew he doesn't exactly 'feel", but physical touch could help him. You knew that, because whenever you caressed his cheek, he would laugh and process it. That or he'd smile and be softer for a brief minute. It was an amazing sight, really, perhaps that was one step closer him being "more human" emotion-wise.

Laying by your side was something he'd do occasionally, out of boredom or when he had nothing else to do. Getting new plates, new wires weren't exciting at all. He'd prefer to stay by your side, thank you very much. You slowly kicked your feet in the air while laying on your stomach, reading a book that you've already read a billion times. But what could you do? The plot was interesting, and you were a big fan of the author.

And now, you finished it for the zillionth time. Closing the book, you got up from the couch lazily, blinking a few times after that reading session to come to your senses. A soft sigh left your lips as you stretched for good - it was amazing, it almost felt like your brain just reset.

One thing you didn't expect though, was to find Boothill seated across the same couch with his back turned to you. He wasn't moving or anything. Eh, oh well, why not talk to him.. But you didn't want to say anything just yet. Your almost feet started moving on their own, approaching the cyborg without much care.

You didn't make any sounds whatsoever. Odd, that he didn't notice you getting up. With shallow breaths, you snaked your arm around his torso, still not saying anything while you silently hugged him from behind.

You sat there for like 3 minutes, but then you called out:

"Boothill?" you rasped out, tightening your hug even further, as much as you could. The metal was kind of hard to wrap your arms around, but you didn't bother letting go.

"[Name], ha?!" He exclaimed, looking very startled now. He even flinched, what a goofy man. "You got up, sweetums!" He added, a grin creeping up on his face, making his fangs and sharp teeth glow like a fresh pearl.

"I got up a few minutes ago. And hugged you." You replied, blinking with a slightly cocked eyebrow, looking sleepy. Speaking of sleep, it seemed that you had a fatigue today but that was off-topic..

"I- Didn't notice it. How senseless and idiotic of me. But— That just makes me cuter, doesn't it?! Ha?" He turned around off-puttingly, and that did NOT go well with your current judgy attitude. Giving him a stink eye, you pulled away.

"So you don't have sensors on these bad boys?" You asked, hand going over the silver lining on his body. He didn't even react to it, and gave a loopy chuckle, before nodding. "Should I get some sensors on them?"

"Wouldn't that make it hurt more when you get injured though?"

"True.."

edit : i noticed far too late that i forgot to add the end notes GOODNIGHT.. but anyway sorry if this is inaccurate in the future idk!

© ezelium 2024 ⭑ I do not consent to my work being plagiarized, translated or reposted without permission. Doing so is theft.

[flowerbetweenfangs]

Marked By the Moon: Part One

CW: Dubcon due to heat/breeding. Originally posted on A03.

An oldie, but one of my favorites.

Buzzing shook the nightstand. Bluelight pierced through the blackness, making it impossible to ignore. 

Reaching forward, Carmen groped across the polished wood, then seized her phone. Sitting up on her bed, she pressed the glowing screen to her ear. Sleep clogged her throat and eyes as she grunted out a greeting. 

It was just after four in the morning. She knew better than to say “Someone better be dying”, because a call this early meant somebody probably was. 

“‘Lo?” She gurgled, blearily staring in the darkness. Sweat clung to her face and clothes in the summer heat. Her window was open, the breeze doing little to cool her off. 

“Carmen!” The voice on the other end was frantic. “You’re not going to believe this!” Several dogs barked and howled in the background. “I’m sorry for waking you up, but we’ve got an emergency surgery.” There were several grunts as her coworker pulled something. “I think some poachers got to him. It looks like he was torn open by a bear trap.” 

The words floated in the air, before bringing horrific images to mind. Carmen’s phone beeped, indicating there were messages sent, images attached to them. 

“I’ll be there soon,” Carmen was out of bed and throwing on her clothes. “Start prepping.” She pulled her dirty blonde hair back without brushing it, making sure it was secured in a knot at the back of her head. Squeezing into her jeans and a presentable shirt, she quickly grabbed her phone and quickly looked at the incoming messages. 

What followed were images of a male ginger wolf, with a large wound on his leg and shoulder. His fur was damp, having been cleaned up. There was a muzzle around his snout, but his eyes were open and alert. He looked directly at the camera with what could only be described as a lupine scowl. 

No matter how many injured animals she saw.  Carmen always sniffed and felt a pang of pity for them. From little Spot and Mittens getting into a spat to the various wildlife people brought in, every creature needed a caring touch. 

“He really tried to fight me when I put on the muzzle.”   Anna’s words read. “ But a good jab of sedatives has him going night night. He’ll be completely under when you get here.” 

“Sorry buddy,” Carmen said aloud to no one. “But your jaw could tear off our arms.” Shoving her phone back into her pocket, she started to psych herself up for the upcoming meeting with this new patient. There were several wolves in the area, but they tended to stay in the mountains and parks, away from the city. A local wildlife reserve rehabilitated them and worked closely with the clinic, taking on all sorts of feral creatures that didn’t belong in the city. 

The poor thing was probably all sorts of confused. 

Going to the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face and sputtered, slapping her cheeks to wake herself up. Quickly, she brushed her teeth and let the rush of mint further energize her. This was going to be one for the books. 

Seizing a canned coffee from the fridge, Carmen grabbed her keys and stumbled out the door. Guzzling it down, she drove through the dark streets, slowing strategically at speed traps. The one good thing about her random late night trips, the normal people of the world were still asleep. Although it was nearing a full moon, so the crazies of the world would be out. 

Something dug into her hip. At first, she tried to ignore it, but it dug into the sensitive skin at every movement. It felt sharp. Adjusting how she sat, Carmen tried to keep her eyes on the road. She was waking up, but the risk wouldn’t be worth it. 

Once she pulled up to a stoplight, she looked down to see a flash of silver wrapped in a leather string. 

Reaching down, she fished it out and saw the trinket she’d bought a month ago, a piece of rose quartz with wire wrapped around it, a small crescent moon, tree, and wolf charm tied to the gemstone. It had been a weird impulse buy. She couldn’t help but think of how thematically appropriate it was. 

Ducking her head, Carmen slipped the leather over her head and tucked it under her shirt. The light turned green, and she floored it once she got on the highway. The night whipped by. Rolling down the windows, Carmen let out a scream to further wake herself up. It was going to be a long day. 

It was barely four thirty when she pulled into the animal hospital. 

Anna let her in before she reached for her badge. She looked frazzled, her eyes wide and bloodshot. There were small scratches covering her arms, but it was a side effect of the job they were more than used to. Passing off the coffee, Carmen took the clipboard and quickly skimmed the contents. They didn’t have a lot of time. 

“He’s completely out,” Anna said as they rushed to the surgery room. “I think he’s a juvenile. But it’s hard to tell.” 

“Then let’s make good use of the time,” Carmen stopped to wash her hands. Once she was certain they were sufficiently clean, she went through the door. 

On the metal table was the body of the wolf. His hind legs were being propped up by a stool. His paws and ears twitched in his sleep. Instead of chasing rabbits, he was probably thinking of chasing sheep. Or perhaps deer. Hell, he probably could take down a bear if he wanted to. 

“I knew wolves were massive, but this guy is just…” Carmen fanned herself with the clipboard, trying to wrap her head around the sight. 

“Huge?” Anna asked, arching a brow. “Even when I worked at the park as a teen, I don’t think the wolves there got this big.” She took a long drink from the coffee. “He’s bulky too. Nothing but muscle in there.” 

“Yeah.” Carmen rubbed her eyes. The sight of the patient had completely sobered her up and released sleep’s hold on her. “Alright. Let’s patch this guy up.” Approaching the table, she placed a hand on the wolf’s haunch. 

There was almost an audible snap as his jaw clenched, lips curling back to show his fangs. His whole body went rigid under her touch. Slowly, his upward eye opened and tracked, staring at her. 

Carmen’s stomach dropped and she sucked in a breath. His paw twitched, brushing against her thigh. His claws could easily tear open her clothing and skin if he so chose. Silvery drool dribbled from his mouth, hitting the floor with a wet smack. 

Blinking rapidly, Carmed put a hand to her chest and kept her breathing under control. The gemstone firm in her grip, she willed the wolf to go back under. Something tugged at her, and she smelled something… Musty. 

The wolf’s eye rolled back and slowly closed again, his body relaxing. The drooling stopped. When Carmed rubbed her eyes, the puddle of drool was gone.

She was more tired than she thought. But she needed to give this patient the best care. 

At least the sedatives were doing their work. Anna hadn’t seemed to notice the incident, having rushed to the front desk when the bell chimed, indicating they had another patient. No doubt this one would be making the rounds on social media, if not the local news. 

She washed off the wounds again, then made quick work of them. His skin and fur were so thick that her tools were warped and bent when she started. Putting away the tools, she went and found the newest set she’d managed to scrounge up the money for. 

 Sutures were simple. Once she’d pieced most of him together, she bandaged him up. It was almost comical to see an entire roll wrapped around his leg, tufts of fur peeking out between the cloth. His paw twitched when she touched it. 

Now she had to convince a wild animal to ignore his base instincts. With man’s best weapon. Painkillers and more sedatives. 

His eyes moved under the lid, his nostrils flaring and lips twitching. 

They didn’t have an Elizabethan collar big enough to put around his head. Carmen doubted it would stay on even if there was one. He would probably find some way to tear it off. 

Hurt, thrown into the hospital parking lot, muzzled, sedated, then probably going to wake up drugged out of his mind. 

“Don’t worry,” She said, patting the side of his head. “I’m sure the assholes who did this to you are going to get what’s coming to them.” His heartbeat thrummed under her fingers. Hands sinking into his fur, Carmen found it somewhat comforting. Warm. She found herself leaning down to rest her head on his side. Stopping herself, she pulled back. 

How tired was she? Maybe she should have drank the coffee instead of passing it off to Anna. 

Sighing, she rubbed her eyes. 

Then, there was a growl. 

Eyes opening, she saw the wolf staring at her again.

No, not staring. The light was gone from his eyes. His paws twitched, like he was running in place, but in his sleep. She debated on tying his paws, but knew the poor thing would only wake up more confused and scared. The sedatives would work on him for another couple hours. Moving the patient to another large kennel, she locked him inside. 

Exiting the room, Carmen went to the back room and sat down, curling up in a chair and closing her eyes. 

It felt like she’d only blinked when she opened them again. Her whole body was stiff and sore. Tilting her head back and forth, she heard her joints popping and cracking. Taking in a deep breath, she got up and went to check on the patient. 

He had been moved to the kennels, a private section to keep him away from the domestic pets. His head laid on a pillow, his whole body limp. The exhaustion came through the glass, his expression pitiful. 

“I called the Wildlife Reserve.” Anna said, coming in with a steaming mug. “They’ll be here to pick him up in half an hour. They had some… Colorful words for me when I told them we had already gone ahead and done surgery on him.” 

Carmen crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “I still want to know who the hell did this to him? Who sees an animal and thinks “You know what, I should hurt him?””

“I dunno. Crazy.” A buzzing rang through the room. Sighing, Anna turned on her heel and went to greet the customer who had just walked in. 

Walking up the glass, Carmen put her hand on it. The wolf tilted his head to look up at her, eyes looking sorrowful. His sides heaved, the barrier muffling the whines. 

Then, his head snapped to the area behind her. Looking back, Carmen saw uniformed men with a large cage. They towered over Carmen, their bodies thick with muscle. Their uniforms had the logo of the local wildlife reserve. 

“Oh. I thought you wouldn’t be here for a while.” Carmen straightened. 

“When we heard about the wolf, we had to make quick time.” One said, offering his hand. “Especially knowing he was injured.” The gloves were thick, ready to take on any bite. He was maybe mid thirties, with salt and pepper hair and dark eyes. 

Carmen took the hand, shaking it. She wasn’t even sure if  his fingers could move within the fabric. 

“Well, he seems to be responding well to the medication. Here’s what we dosed him with.” She found the chart and passed it over to the agent as the other moved to the wolf’s room. He was younger, maybe in his early twenties with dark hair pulled back into a tail. 

“Good. Thanks for taking care of him. We’ll try to see if he belongs to a pack not too far from here. If he doesn’t, then we’ll make sure to release him somewhere safe.” The man handed her a card. “If you want to visit him.” 

“Of course,” Carmen heard the sounds of a struggle. Whirling around, she saw the wolf snarling and growling, lunging at the Agent despite the muzzle. They had him in a hold with a catch pole. He went to try and paw it off, before collapsing with a yelp when he put weight on his injured legs. 

“Stand back, ma’am. I have to go help him.” The agent rushed into the room as the wolf continued to pull and twist, trying to get himself free. 

When he opened the door, the wolf suddenly shot forward, knocking him aside and heading straight for Carmen. 

“Shit!” Carmen didn’t have time to move as the wolf barreled into her. When she hit the ground, the Agents managed to get hold of him again. 

Then, he lifted up a massive paw and raked it across her arm. Two long crimson lines formed across the skin. Blood welled up, dripping onto the floor. 

“Carmen!” Anna shrieked, rushing over. “Oh my god, are you okay?” 

“It’s fine.” Carmen insisted, getting to her feet. Drops of crimson fell on the floor. The skin was already red and puffy. “Jesus.” She struggled to draw in breath, her heart leaping into her throat. 

The wolf continued to pull and tug at the Agents, but the second wind seemed to have gone out of him. Once they got him into the cage, the fight completely went out of him. With a metallic WHUMP, he collapsed, staring at Carmen through the bars. 

“You need to go to the hospital.” Anna insisted. “That looks bad.” 

“ER visit is not in the cards.” Carmen argued. “Can’t afford that.” She winced and cradled her arm. “How far away is the closest urgent care?” 

Walking to the desk, she pulled out a first aid kit, popping it open with one hand. At least they had plenty to handle small incidents. No way was she going to walk through the front lobby while bleeding like a stuck pig. Pulling out disinfectant, she went to the bathroom and applied it. 

The burning sensation nearly made her black out from the pain. Her head hit the wall, and she barely registered what Anna was saying. The other Agents were apologizing, or at least Carmen hoped so. 

“- about ten minutes?” Anna frowned. “I’ll fill out the incident report.” She looked Carmen up and down. “You don’t look so good, you should take the rest of the day off to rest. I’ll call someone from the other clinic and see if they can cover the surgeries. Thank God those guys knew the nearest Clinic offhand.” 

“Probably go there all the time themselves." Carmen shrugged. Anna reached over and helped hold her arm still. 

"Thanks, Doll.” Carmed winced again, seizing a roll of bandages and binding her arm the best she could. The Agents were gone, with the cage loaded in a trailer. “I’m not even mad. Poor boy was probably scared out of his mind.” 

***

The Urgent Care had just opened when she pulled up. Once admitted, she sat in the room, still cradling her arm. She didn’t dare unwrap the wound to get a better look at it. 

When the door opened, Carmen jerked her head up to look. 

The man who came through was older, maybe mid to late 40s. His hair was completely white, small bits of stubble on his face. Tired brown eyes looked her over, dark circles under them. A fatigue they both seemed to recognize and share a sympathetic half smile over. 

“Alright, tell me what happened.” His voice rumbled, still raspy from sleep. He held up a clipboard, clicking a pen to take notes. Old fashioned, then. She caught the name on his nametag, Esau Remington . 

“So, I’m a vet,” Carmen began, unwrapping her arm as she recounted what she thought was needed. He paid attention, unblinking and nodding. 

By the end, his brow was furrowed, the pen’s clicker tapping against his lips. 

“Are you sure it was a wolf and not a really big dog like a shepherd or a husky?” 

Fishing her phone out, Carmen showed him the pictures that Anna had sent her. His frown deepened, his brows rising to meet his hairline, the pen twirling back and forth between his fingers. The corner of his lip twitched, and he sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” His cheeks flushed and he gave a nervous chuckle. 

“Sorry about the language. It’s not every day you see a wolf.” Clenching his jaw, he looked at the wound on her arm. “Just the scratch? He didn’t bite you anywhere?” 

Carmen shook her head. “No. They had a muzzle on him.” She winced as he rolled her arm between his fingers to look the gash over, making sure there was nothing inside it. The skin was more swollen, the congealing scabs weeping with clear fluid. “I’m up to date on my rabies shots and the like, unless you think I should take a booster?” 

Shaking his head, Dr. Remington sighed. “No, I think you do need sutures though. He did a number on you.” 

The pen scribbled as he took down a few notes. “I’m going to write you a prescription for some antibiotics and steroids. Take them all , even if you feel better.” The tone did not offer an argument. “And I’m going to recommend you take the next few days off. If you have a wily patient, you’re going to rip the sutures back open.” 

Carmen let a groan slip past her lips. The Doctor seemed taken aback, pen pausing mid scribble. Brow cocked, he looked her over. 

“I’ve got a lot of patients I need to look after.” She complained. “The wolf was a wild card, normally I just handle check ups.” 

“I’m sure your patients would appreciate you in a healthy state.” Remington argued back gently. “Take some time off, don’t strain yourself.”

  He looked over his shoulder, then back to her. “I know when I have some days cleared in my schedule, I like to go camping with some of my friends. We go hiking, swimming, and get to see nature.” Looking pointedly at her wound, he shrugged. “Although it wouldn’t surprise me if you’re a little sick of nature right now.” 

With a sigh, he began to prep her arm. Another round of disinfectant, making her hiss with pain. 

“I don’t mind nature.” Carmen shrugged, wincing as he began to apply the first suture. “Just don’t know if it’s a good idea to make a spontaneous trip into the woods with a messed up arm.” She tried to force a smile, but hissed when he pinched her wound closed. 

Dr. Remington tilted his head to the side with a grunt of agreement. “True. But it was just a suggestion.” His Adam’s Apple bobbed and he swallowed hard, his lips moist. “Not to mention the meds you’re on… Probably will make you too woozy to do anything strenuous.” He chuckled. “I got a little ahead of myself, sorry.” 

Carmen shrugged. “I get it. A little early, trying to wake yourself up.” 

"I find it hard to sleep some nights. Especially around this time of the  month. Always finding people doing stupid things. Must be the full moon." 

Once he’d finished stitching her up, he presented her with a prescription and doctor’s note. After calling the clinic back, Carmen assured Anna that she would be back as soon as possible. 

At home, she popped the first round of pills and collapsed onto her bed. 

When Carmen woke up next, sweat soaked her sheets. Panting, she pulled herself from her blanket cocoon. The cool air of the night was like ice. Shivering, she popped another round of meds, then  got into the shower, letting the water pour over her. 

The sweat and grime from sleep rolling down into the tub made her feel a little more like a human. Her phone was blowing up with texts from Anna and other coworkers. Pushing her phone aside, Carmen collapsed onto her bed again, shivering and trying to cover herself up enough to combat the shivers, but not feel overheated. 

Shaking, she tried to claim sleep, but it refused to come. Getting up, she began to pace back and forth across the floor, feet slapping loudly across the hardwood. The walls around her seemed to close tighter. 

Opening her window, she popped out the screen and leaned out. A spell of dizziness hit her. Head swimming, she nearly fell forward. Holding tightly to the sill, she yanked herself back in, rear slamming hard against the floor. Leaning against her bed, she took a few shaky breaths. 

Closing her eyes, she drug the sweat soaked blanket down from her bed and wrapped it around herself, falling into a fitful sleep. 

When the first rays of sun pierced the open window, chilly winds of dawn rolled over Carmen and made her hair stand on end. The necklace pressed into her hip, leaving red indents over her skin. Fishing it out, she simply tossed it aside, watching it skitter across the floor and come to a rest against her dresser. 

Crawling to the window, she pulled it closed and then collapsed under it. Curling into the fetal position, Carmen fell into another fitful sleep. 

She found herself standing next to a woman made of stone. A crescent moon covered her eyes like a mask, her mouth open in a howl. A silver wolf draped itself across her lap, head thrown back to mimic hers. Cracks and chipped off pieces had worn it down, but it still held a beauty to it. 

The grass around it was green and lush. Thick trees grew around the statue, the song of the forest crying out. Animals, insects, bubbling streams, wind, all of it calling out to something in her. Taking a few steps forward, she looked at the wolf. Its stone eye seemed to move, looking right at her. Even though she was clothed, it made her feel naked and nervous. Stomach flipping, she took a few steps back. 

“Come to me, my child.” A woman’s voice whispered in the wind. 

The golden sun had become the silvery moon when Carmen opened her eyes again. Her whole body ached. A throbbing in her head and arm helped drag her away from the land of sleep. She saw the necklace tightly clutched in her grip, leaving an impression of the moon in her palm. 

Every muscle protested when Carmen drug herself off the floor and took the meds. They went down hard, nearly making her throw it back up. 

Filling up a tall drink of water, she guzzled it down to fill her stomach. Hunger gnawed at her, staving off sleep. Breathing hard, she took another shower and let the hot water soothe her muscles. 

The strange fever and fatigue had worn off, replaced with an energy that she hadn’t felt in years. Blood sang in her veins, wanting to run. Even in the shower, she found herself shifting from one foot to the other, eager to start… Something. 

Stepping out of the shower, she found herself dressing quickly. Hair still damp, she pulled it back and mapped out a potential run she could do. She just had to go outside. Get away from the walls of plaster and sheetrock. 

A smell made her pause. It was buried under her smell. But she could still pick it up. Pulling out her pants from the other day, she pulled out the business card and sniffed it. A small drop of blood was on the corner. Hers? No. The scent drove her wild. She held it close and inhaled deeply, before pulling it back. 

“What the hell am I doing?” Setting it back down, Carmen rubbed her face, sweat pouring down her brow. She stared at the address, the image of the wolf coming to her mind. 

He stared at her, looking pitiful. Then, his claws flashed and raked across her arm. When she fell to the ground, she saw the statue. 

“ Come to me, my child .” The woman’s voice whispered in the wind again. “ Join the hunt. ” 

Walking outside, Carmen let the night air roll over her and went to the car, heart thrumming. Pulling out her phone, she punched the address of the wildlife reserve and then prepared to travel. 

Her drive was a blur. Tunnel vision made her unaware of how fast she arrived, or even if she was driving safely. Static crackled in her ears, making her hair stand on end. 

The mechanical voice telling her she’d arrived at her destination was what brought her back. She stared at the spot illuminated by her headlights. A line of trees, then a chain link fence. More foliage behind that, but it was too thick to see past. 

Getting out of the car, Carmen slammed the door and began to take a few steps toward the fence. The wind shifted, blowing a scent toward her. Wrapping her fingers around the links, Carmen inhaled.

  Closing her eyes, she let the smell wash over her. It caressed her very being, tugging at something within her. Dropping to her knees in front of the fence, she clenched the links tight enough for her knuckles to turn white and her injured arm to throb. Metal warped under her grip, the coppery scent of blood following. 

Bringing her hands down, Carmen saw crimson pooling in her palm. A laugh escaped her and she sat with her back to the fence. Lapping at the wound, shook her head. 

“What on earth am I doing?” She started to stand. Her body protested at the movement. The soreness was back with a vengeance. Closing her eyes, she pressed her bandaged hand to her face, pulling it away to see it soaked with sweat and grime. 

Staggering to her feet, she ignored the tantalizing scent as she headed back to her car. When Carmen put her hand on the roof, the smell hit her like a load of bricks. Opening her eyes wide, she turned back around to look at the line of trees. The area around her was tinted with a silvery-blue hue, but it was almost as bright as day. 

This had to be a dream. None of this made sense. Leaning down, she touched her forehead to the warm metal of the car. 

“Just wake up.” She urged herself. “You’re having a bad reaction to the medicine.” 

Slowly, she raised her head. 

Time seemed to slow down. Turning back toward the fence, she felt her feet moving on their own, dragging across the asphalt. 

Something glistened on the links in the silvery light. Reaching out, she brushed her knuckle to it. Once she touched the metal, it sent a jolt through her.  

Then, she saw the small gap in the links. Someone had cut through it with bolt cutters. But they’d put it back to where it was almost invisible to anyone far enough away. No wonder she had been able to bend the metal so easily.

 Clenching the fence, she pulled it back and crawled through, metal raking across her back. Wincing, she dropped to her stomach and drug herself through, feeling more tugs at her clothing. 

Once she stood up, her arm was throbbing, the pain making her head spin. Staggering, she sniffed the air. The scent was stronger than before. Her whole body ached, but she had to follow it. Cradling her arm, she began a slow walk. 

Cicadas cried, a creek flowed, and the wind continued to blow, stirring a few stray wisps of her hair out of its knot at the back of her head. 

Then, she came to a break in the trees, showing a sheer drop. In the meadow, a group of wolves ran around, wrestling and snapping at one another. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw one stop, then stand up on its hind legs and sniff the air. It turned a massive head around to look right at her. 

“I knew you’d come.” A voice called behind her. It was gruff, like it wasn’t used to speaking. As it rumbled through her ears, Carmen’s hair stood on end. 

Slowly, Carmen turned to see a bipedal wolf looking at her, its hindleg bandaged and stiff. Its shoulder was also wrapped up. 

The wolf took a few shaking steps toward her. Then, it dropped down onto all fours. Even then, it still looked her in the eye. Drool glistened on its teeth as it licked its muzzle. Then, she saw the same eyes, in what she recognized as a lupine scowl. 

Her ginger wolf from the clinic. 

Now she knew she was dreaming. 

It took another step toward her. She backed away, stopping when she felt the give of the ground, warning her of the drop below. Heart hammering in her throat, she could only stare at the wolf as it took a few steps closer to her.

Her stomach fluttered. Fear? No. Something else she couldn’t identify. Head swimming, she tried to string thoughts together to make a plan of escape. However, her vision began to blur. Daring to blink, she took in a shaking breath. 

Something tore through the grass. But she didn’t dare take her eyes off the creature approaching her. Caught between a rock and a hard place, she focused on the visible threat. 

“The Goddess has blessed you. And you’ve been marked by her hounds.” Ginger grumbled, nose nearly touching her. The inhales were strong, almost like a human. 

“You’ve gone into heat.” His tongue lolled out of his mouth, hot breath rolling over her skin. Something about it made the ache worse, spreading it through Carmen so fast she nearly screamed. “You’ll send the rest of the pack into rut.” 

Then, a large silver wolf slammed into the ginger, swatting him with a human shaped front paw. The action was so quick, Carmen could only gape. Her knees nearly gave out, but she managed to keep herself upright. If she went over the cliff, she’d drop and probably break below. But if this was a dream… 

Ginger flew back, screaming in pain. The noise shook her thoughts loose and she gasped, reaching out for him. Crimson blossomed on the bandaged haunch and shoulder. His back legs gave out as he struggled to get on all fours again.

“You bastard!” He barked at the silver wolf. “You broke my leg!” Yelping, he looked at Carmen with pleading eyes. “Help me!” 

Carmen took a step forward, only to feel a hand clamp on her shoulder. Claws dug into her skin, making her stand still. Then, she was whirled around to face the silver wolf, who towered over her. 

“You shouldn’t be out here.” The voice rasped. “Not without being taken into the pack first.” His nostrils flared, his pupils blowing all the way out as he stared at her. Brown eyes, glinting with the want for a hunt. His scent overpowered Carmen. 

Squeezing her eyes shut, she whispered to wake up over and over again. 

The fear held fast to her, not allowing her to move a muscle in fear of both wolves tearing her to shreds. 

Then, the hand on her shoulder went to her waist, picking her up. Before she could scream, it squeezed tight enough to push the air from her lungs. Finally, she opened her eyes to see that she was moving. Well, the wolf was walking, simply carrying her like a ragdoll. His massive paws had wrapped around her, although he’d taken care to not scratch her further with his claws. 

Ginger flew at them with a snarl, his back leg suddenly seeming to work perfectly. 

Silver swatted at him, then heaved. The wolf flew through the air, screaming as he went down into the meadow below. When he hit the ground, the crunch echoed through the night. Carmen felt sick, her stomach heaving. Covering her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut again. 

There was a grunt. Air whipped around Carmen, stirring the scents again. An impact jostled her, and she opened her eyes. They’d landed in the meadow, the other wolves approaching, much more cautious in their steps. A few sniffed, inching closer with flared nostrils, but never close enough to touch. 

The smell made her mind swim. Heat flushed in her cheeks, and she shivered. All the eyes on her were like hands, caressing her very being. Each one hungrily taking her in, assessing her. 

The ruined pile of fur and bone groaned. 

“Your brother decided to go against the rules and try to bring another member into our ranks. Without permission. Or consent, for that matter.” Silver growled. “So now, he must put himself at the mercy of Diana.” He set Carmen down, setting his massive hand on her shoulder so she couldn’t run. His touch froze her further. Not even a breath passed her lips. 

The wolves sat or laid down in the grass, staring at the pair. They knew who the one in charge was. 

“What’s going on?” Carmen choked out, eyes watering. “Please. Tell me or let me wake up.” She slapped her cheeks, stopping when Silver’s hand wrapped around her entire uninjured forearm. It was a gentle, but firm grip. 

“No one touches her.” Silver insisted, before forcing her to face him. His eyes seemed to stare into her very being. They looked alert, but so tired. More fluid dribbled onto her legs and shoes. But she didn’t dare break the gaze. To assert dominance with a canine, you couldn’t be the first to break eye contact. 

Hopefully the same rules applied to lupines. Alpha and Omega only applied to captive and family packs, but this was all she knew to work with. 

As they stared at one another, Carmen felt the fear and desire to know more about everything warring with one another. Part of her wanted to escape the dream no matter how, the other part wanted to stay and listen. Sit on her haunches like the other wolves, watching him speak. 

His eyes explored hers, flicking over her form to take her appearance in. The gleam only added to his dangerous look. His pupils were slightly dilated, his muzzle twitching. His tongue tasted the air around her. 

Silver broke away first. A sigh of relief escaped her, and she dropped to her knees. Silver’s grip on her arm didn’t release. Closing her eyes, she urged herself to wake up. 

Then, she was being pulled back to her feet. Arms cradled her, twisted and alien enough to make her uneasy, despite the strength behind them. She tried to not shake, but her body refused to listen. 

“What do we do?” One of the wolves asked. “Her scent is going to roll on the wind. If she’s changed, there might be others we don’t know about.” 

“Guard the entrances. Make sure no one else gets in.” Silver rumbled, before he started to walk, each step jostling Carmen enough to nearly make her cry out. 

Then, he took her away from the meadow. There was a hole on the side of the cliff. Bowing his head, Silver brought her inside. Only then did he set her down on the stone floor. Once he’d done that, he went to the mouth of the cave and sat down. 

“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” Carmen begged, not daring to move from her spot. “Did… Did you kill that wolf?” She’d have to call the Wildlife reserve when she woke up to check on him. 

“No. If Diana is merciful, he will be healed when the moon and sun switch.” Silver didn’t look at her. “You care about the one who did this to you? Was he your mate?” 

The question made Carmen blush. “N… No. I just…” Her brain felt addled. Why was she getting flustered over a wolf? “I took care of him. He was already hurt.” 

Silver snorted. “We’re sturdy. Don’t worry.” He slammed his paw on the ground. The open palm slapped hard, the noise amplified in the cave. Carmen resisted the urge to clap her hands over her ears. “As you saw, he wasn’t nearly as injured as he pretended to be.” 

Still, getting flung over the side of the cliff… 

Carmen shuddered. “I just… I want to go home. Or wake up.” She scratched at the side of her head. The blood on her palm smeared on her cheek. 

Silver turned to look at her sideways. “You think this is a dream?” 

“Talking wolves, seeing them walk upright, it’s like a werewolf movie.” Swallowing, Carmen flinched when she felt the sting of pain, more blood dripping on her clothing. 

Standing upright, Silver approached her, taking her hand in his massive paws. Rolling it back and forth, he stared at it. Then, he slowly leaned down and ran a large pink tongue over the wound. The sensation sent a shiver up Carmen’s spine. 

The wound slowly began to shrink, before sealing itself closed. Carmen stared at it in awe. She flexed her fingers and brushed them against the twisted digits that now clutched her hand. Silver’s fur suddenly bristled, and he dropped her hand, turning away from her again. 

“You are werewolves, aren’t you?” Swallowing hard, Carmen tried to calm the roaring in her ears. 

“Correct.” Silver sighed. “We don’t bring pack members in willy nilly. It was supposed to be a tight ring.” He scratched at the ground, his claws bringing up grains of stone. “And not without my permission. Every werewolf in this pack is under my protection. They abide by my rules. In exchange, they are given this area to run every cycle.” 

“Why haven’t I changed?” The words were hard to force out. 

“You’re refusing to.” Silver turned to face her fully. “You’ve surely felt the way your body is hurting? How you need to do something, but you’re not sure what?” His nostrils flared, his pupils nearly overtaking his iris. “The Goddess has touched you. But you’ve managed to keep control, I’m impressed.” 

His hands shook as he reached for her. Claws traced her cheeks, making her hair stand on end. The scent of him was overpowering, making her mouth almost water. Something in her ached. 

“You are safe now. If you give into the change, you will not harm yourself or others.” He assured her. “I will take you into the pack. Every moon, we will come here. Once you are recognized as a member, we’ll do what we can to make sure that this is as painless as possible.” 

His hands on her, the rumbling of his voice, his scent, the way the air tasted around him drove Carmen crazy. Trembling, she felt herself nearly falling again. Why was she so weak in the knees? 

Something in her finally let go. The world exploded in silvery blue, the scents, sounds, and feelings overpowering her. Gasping, she felt her back arch. 

She suddenly jolted forward, slipping from the grip of Silver. He stared at her with wide eyes, flinching when she touched him. Burying her hands into his fur, inhaled his scent, listening to the rapidly increasing beat of his heart. 

The touch seemed to awaken something in him, his rapidly growing erection brushed against her midriff, pushing the hem of her shirt up. 

“N-no.” He weakly tried to push her away, nearly tripping over his feet as he tried to get away from her. “You can’t.” 

A fire formed in Carmen’s belly. She felt the emptiness inside her clawing up into her womb, begging to be filled. Dropping to her knees, she panted, sweat trickling down her brow and upper lip. 

“Please.” She said, her mouth dry. “Please. Help me.” Her eyes widened and she felt heat flash through her. The scent rolling off her mingled with the air. It was hard to resist the urge to tear off her clothes and start plunging fingers inside herself. 

Silver’s erection grew, beads of precum dribbling from the tip as he inhaled her scent, tasting it in the air. Silvery saliva drooled out of his mouth, and he stared at her. But he didn’t dare move. His hand gripped the mouth of the cave, looking ready to rip it down rather than come near her. 

“You must have your first change,” He urged her. “Please. Let the Wolf inside come out.” He flexed his free hand. “My fangs and claws would rip you to shreds.” His voice was growing more raspy, each word a chore to push past his teeth. 

Carmen’s body twisted as she cried out with a need she’d never felt the intensity of before. Her throat felt raw from the primal screams escaping her. She tried to find the part of her mind and push for the change to occur. Begging the wolf to come out. 

The other wolves were making their way over. Their scent made Carmen launch herself, only for Silver to clothesline her. With a grace that suggested practice, he managed to push her back into the cave. With his hand still tight around her waist, he laid Carmen on the floor. 

“Diana, forgive me for what I’m about to do.” He muttered, holding her to the ground. “You can’t scream like that. You’ll make every wolf in the area come running.” His cock brushed against Carmen’s clothed groin, the sensation sending another blast of lust through her. 

“Please.” Carmen panted, unable to catch her breath. “Help me.” Eyes watering, she reached for the Wolf’s arm, gripping it tightly enough she thought she might burst her stitches. 

“I could rip you in half.” He shook his head. “You’re not changed. You’re not made for it.” His nostrils flared, his hands shaking and gripping her tighter. 

“Help me change.” She urged him. “Please.” Why was she in so much pain if it was a dream? There was no way she’d been this horny in real life. Sure, she’d wanted sex before, but never this bad.

Sighing, he looked over his shoulder to the entrance of the cave. It was empty. But each movement and second he made her wait was agonizing. 

Slowly, he took his hand off her. With considerably less grace and control, he tore off her pants and underwear. The full scent of her arousal hit him. His hand slammed the open area above her head, his cock dribbling onto her thighs. A few drops landed on her exposed groin. Crying out, she bucked her hips up, reminding him what needed to be filled. 

Leaning down, he nuzzled against her neck, his nose cold. Fangs traced over her skin, making her gasp. Warmth followed as his tongue went across her neck, trailing to the collar of her shirt, leaving a large wet spot. Tensing, he ran his hand up her stomach, slipping it under the fabric of her top. 

It rested there, his open palm’s warmth mingling with her own. Slowly, he slipped it off her, taking care to not tug on the bandages on her injured arm. His claws tore through the cheap fabric of her sports bra, but the loss wasn’t going to break her heart. 

His eyes rested on the necklace now laying against her chest. 

“Diana forgive me,” He said again, before pushing her legs apart. His fur tickled her bare skin. It was softer than she thought it would be. Lowering his head, he lapped at the wetness forming between her legs and spilling out into the floor. 

The touch of his tongue made her cry out. Her legs locked around Silver’s head, forcing him to inhale her scent and arousal completely. Whether the motion or her cries finally made him let go, it seemed to awaken something in him. 

Growling, he sent a rumble through her that shook her very being. Breath escaped her, and she fell back flat, drowning in the pleasure. 

Grabbing Carmen’s thigh, Silver plunged his tongue in deep, rolling his head with each lick. She thought she would scream, but all that came out were quiet moans of satisfaction. Her hands tried to grab at something, to distract her from the sensation long enough to hold her rapidly approaching climax. She settled on resting her hand on his head, pushing him in further. 

Her legs went slack, shaking with desire. He gave a few more licks, before pulling back and running his tongue over her clit. Each movement sent a wave of pleasure over Carmen, making her cry out and arch her back, wanting to be filled again. 

Then, he pulled back, fur slick with her arousal. Breathing heavy, the Wolf stared at her entrance, his warm breath tickling her wet folds. Leaning down, he licked the ground and lapped up every drop of her that had spilled out. 

He picked her up off the ground, pressing her to the wall. Carmen’s legs snaked around his waist, barely able to hold herself up. Rocking his hips, Silver, growled in her ear. The breath tickled the curve of her neck, making her shiver. 

“Tell me you want it.” He rasped, the tip prodding against her. She could feel their fluids mixing together, dirtying the cave floor. 

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Carmen nodded. 

“P-Please.” She begged. 

Then, he entered her. She was so slick it slid right in. Once she’d wrapped around him, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her down. Rolling his hips, he thrust up into her. Arms wrapped around Carmen’s body, he kept her from scraping against the stone of the cave. Cradling her head, he had her look at him. 

“Your pupils are so wide, I can’t see your iris anymore.” He growled, each thrust sending pleasure through Carmen. “I didn’t think my cock would fit, but you’re taking it so well.” The words weren’t teasing or hurtful, he seemed just as surprised as her. “It’s like you were made for me. There’s a little bit of the wolf getting teased out.” 

Carmen couldn’t deny the pleasure sweeping through her. She wriggled her hips and took him to the base, gripping him tighter. The growl that escaped him was one of pleasure. His thrusts were strong, each one filling her with white hot heat. Every moan and gasp that escaped her echoed loudly in the cave, no doubt funneling into the meadow. 

“Hold me tightly.” He encouraged her. “Scratch, bite, yell, let yourself fall to your base instincts.” His thrusts became almost vicious, impaling Carmen and reaching deeper than she thought possible. 

She screamed, tearing at his fur. The cries encouraged him further, and he bucked his hips hard, slamming into her. Bareback scraping against the wall, Carmen took it all in, pleasure building in her stomach and bringing her closer. 

There was no way she should have been able to take his cock. It was too big. The thought of it entering would have made her scoff, but now she was drawing it into her like it had always belonged. 

Then, she grew uncomfortably tight. Wincing, she dug her nails into his thick fur. Part of her was tempted to bite down on his shoulder, but the sensation would probably shock him into letting go of her. 

She grew more slick, wanting to take him all the way in, thicker cock be damned. It needed to be all the way inside when he came. Rolling her hips, she tried to press herself down against him when he thrust up. 

“Fuck… The knot.” Silver panted. “I’m about to-” 

He winced when she wrapped her legs tighter around him. “Wait, I’m going to-” His eyes were clouded with lust, his tongue lapping her neck. Words became grunts and growls 

Carmen’s body tensed. Throwing her head back, she nearly slammed it against the wall of the cave as the orgasm ripped through her. She clenched down onto the cock inside her. 

The pressure made Silver howl, and he erupted. Thick ropes of fluid filled Carmen, then dripped onto the floor. Two more aftershocks followed, although they paled in comparison to the first, merely spilling more onto the stone and Silver’s feet. 

Panting, Silver brought her down, collapsing onto the cave floor. His rapidly shrinking and softening cock was still slick with Carmen’s wetness. 

Carmen crawled over to him, falling onto his chest. His rapidly beating heart gradually slowed, his shallow breaths becoming deeper. Within moments, he was snoring. 

Closing her eyes, Carmen laid against his sleeping form. Even though he was a beast, it felt safe. His clawed hand rested against her thigh, the other encircling her chest and pulling her to him. 

***

Slants of light fell on Carmen. Groaning, she tried to move. Soreness filled her body, her joints and muscles straining against the movement as she tried to rouse herself. The floor underneath her was cold and hard. Hadn’t she closed the window last night? 

Looking down, she saw her naked body. Bruises traced up and down her hips and thighs. Stone was beneath her, scents of sex and animal mixing with her nose. 

Warm hands clutched her close. A half hard cock rubbed against her leg. 

“Mmm…” The person holding her groaned, pulling her back down to the ground. Stubble scraped against her bare shoulder, followed by a kiss. Squirming, she resisted the urge to twist away. 

“Morning.” The grogginess was clear in the voice. 

Carmen felt a familiar soreness between her legs. Panic seized her when she realized what had happened wasn’t a dream. 

Slowly, she turned to look down at her partner. 

And into the half asleep face of Doctor Remington. 

[fashionsfromhistory]

Jacket

c.1630-1650

Italy or England

Several examples of knitted jackets or waistcosts survive in museum collections are waistcoats, with well-known examples in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London (473-1893, 346-1898, 106-1899 and 807-1904). Both men and women wore these items of clothing either as undergarments during the day or as informal déshabillé or undress at home in the evening to provide additional warmth. These items tend to fall into two categories: Italian waistcoats that open down the front, sometimes known as Florentine waistcoats, and those that pulled over the head. Italian waistcoats were knitted using one or two colours of silk yarn, in imitation of patterns found on woven silks, the effect often enhanced with the use of purl stitches. The fine gauge of these waistcoats suggests that they were hand-knitted in professional workshops, using extremely fine metal knitting needles, known as ‘wires’, for wealthy classes to buy as ready-to-wear clothing. The garment is constructed from rectangular knitted sections; two front panels, two back panels and two sleeves. Several have triangular gores inserted to provide additional width over the hips, at home by the wearer or a member of their household. Their name suggests that they were made in Italy and exported to northern Europe, but it is now known that fine silk yarns were imported from Naples to London from the late sixteenth century to supply the native knitting industry. Because knitted waistcoats were for informal wear there are no known sources showing them being worn, making it hard to give them a more specific date. They appear to have originated at the beginning of the seventeenth century. Lady Elizabeth Howard, the wife of Lord William Howard (1563–1640) ordered ‘a pound of woosted for wastecotes’ for 9 shillings in 1618 and the Danish Royal family used knitted silk waistcoats for children’s shrouds during this period. Knitted waistcoats continued to be worn throughout the century. There are records of waistcoats being relined during the course of their use. Sir Thomas Isham (1656/7–81) is billed £1 5s 6d from his tailor for ‘new Lining A Purple and gold Silke knit wastcoate’ in April 1680. There are continuing references to them also in the early eighteenth century, including a London newspaper report of the theft of a ‘green silk knit waistcoat with gold and silver flowers all over it’ in 1712.

Glasgow Museums (ID Number: 29.126)

[milliesdiary]

i cant stop thinking about aemond fucking you so sweetly and just worshipping your body, making you cum multiple times

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭; aemond spoils you like the princess you are.

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; princess!reader, p in v penetration, mentions of fingering and oral, just pure smut ♡

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; hi! i just had to write this little drabble :) please reblog and comment with your feedback. it means the world to me and keeps me motivated! be sure to consider following to stay updated ✨

"Breathe, Princess," Aemond grunts lowly, his hands holding onto your hips as you balance on his lap. When you fully press down on his erect cock once more, he guides you and lets out a satisfied hum. You start moving your hips, slowly — painfully slow — grinding his thick shaft deep inside your sopping cunt. 

“M-My Prince!” you gasp out. Everything is so sensitive; you have already cum two times, once from Aemond stuffing his long fingers into your pussy and the mind-blowing oral he performed afterwards. You’re close to another orgasm, and you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so clouded by pleasure. 

“Aemond,” he corrects, that one violet eye of his glinting with unadulterated desire and a tinge of fucking amusement.

Aemond pulls you down for a scorching kiss — his ability to tolerate the sight of you taking him so well is quickly vanishing. The whole thing is fucking messy, just a collision of teeth and tongues as he licks at your bottom lip. His head spins as a result of the sensuality of your kisses, and when he starts to grind up into you, your fingers fly up to tug on the silver strands of his long hair. 

The sting on his scalp makes Aemond lets out a strangled breath, and his thrusts deepen as he growls out, "You are beautiful." He enjoys the sound of your high-pitched whine in response, and his pride grows as he observes how fucked out you are already.

"I possess a considerable amount of desires," Aemond says in a hushed tone. "I want you. Your hand in marriage. I want to suffocate you with my dedication. Every inch of you." 

You wish so greatly that you could exchange the same words, reassure him of your affections; but you’re too jaded, too caught up in Aemond. That fire inside of him burns with a flaming wrath, yet he is gold. 

You can only think of one thing: 

What an honor it is to be valued by him. 

A stifled grunt escapes Aemond's chest as you grind your hips over his agonizing length, and he furrows his brows. The way your walls cling to his shaft and draw him in until his swollen, enraged tip is pressed firmly against your cervix has completely captured his attention. You're just so wet and tight, leaking all over his cock.

To bring you forward and press his lips against yours, Aemond’s large hand extends to the nape of your neck. Your lips passionately slide against his, and you might just die from the sensation.

“If I am a monster, it is because of the malice of man,” Aemond murmurs into your mouth. “It is only because of your love that I can be spared.” 

And this is the moment you have no regrets. 

Those in the kingdom made fun of you for selecting Aemond, a man built of barbed wire, equally as sharp and dangerous. How can you explain to them that it is the barbed wire that has protected you all this time? 

His fingertips clench around your neck as you attempt to move on instinct, and all you can do is you scream out a pathetic "Aemond!" as you break free from the frantic kiss. “Gods, please. Don’t stop!”

“Keep begging, my love.” Aemond almost chuckles, his lips mouthing over the curve of your breast. "It suits you."

His fingers start to circle your clit and you gasp, clinging to him as his calloused thumb hooks against it and he continues to gently rock into you in excruciating pleasure.

You both gasp as the sensation of him being so completely inside of you, your choked exhale shuddering as they pass through your lips.

“Good girl,” Aemond purrs, his smirk predatory and devilish, made worse by his expression full of mirth. He’s so fixated on how your cunt is trying so valiantly to milk him for all that he is worth, focused on the way your eyes slam shut with pleasure and your jaw drops open. Before you can tell him how much you love him, he gently rolls his hips to lead you up and down his burning-hot length. He begins to place kisses along your jugular, the hot puffs of breath fanning across the skin there, his speed on your clit increasing.

“I’m so close!” you whimper, your hands trembling as they grip his shoulders. Aemond hum in acknowledgement, the corners of his slightly lips twitching upward. 

“I am in your blood, in your veins, your psyche. Your entire being—body, senses, and divinity is mine. Can you feel it, Princess?”

“Yes!”

You’re about to cum, hanging right on the precipice of falling over the edge. The heat builds up in your belly, prepared to burst and dust you both with screamed moans and detonate explosive stars behind closed eyelids. You let out a broken cry of his name, urging him brush his mouth against your lips. 

“You stole my heart, my love,” Aemond whispers. “Don’t dare give it back.” 

[pandoa]

cheeky kiss!!

when you kiss them on the cheek as a thank you

~headcanons~ ~twisted wonderland x gender neutral reader~

requested by anon~✰

red. all you see is red. his cheeks are red, his ears are red, sevens, even his nose is red at the feeling of your lips pecking his cheek. you didn't think it was even physically possible to be that flushed in the face, but yet here he is doing just that. he stares blankly, unresponsive to anyone and anything as he appears as if a wire had been cut loose from head, malfunctioning like a computer’s blue screen of death. the only difference is that he is a deep shade of scarlet. the spot where you kissed feels like a spark on his skin and he’s simply too frozen to move. please give him a warning of sorts before doing that again. for his own safety. please.

deuce spade, epel felmier, IDIA SHROUD

he acts nonchalant but on the inside he's a muttering mess. there's simply no losing his cool around you, that he will ensure will never happen. he brushes off your kiss with a wave of his hand, acting as if your little action didn't faze him at all. it's no problem, prefect, he'd tell you with a charming smile. a smile you'd think would mean that he didn't mind your gesture. though, if you're observant enough, there's a slight chance you'll get to see the quickening of his heartrate, the fluttering of his stomach, as his heart seems to pump directly through his chest each minute he spent with you. all that is left is for your own blindness to finally see.

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS, ace trappola, ruggie bucchi, AZUL ASHENGROTTO, JAMIL VIPER, MALLEUS DRACONIA

he kisses you back. did you really think you could do that without expecting one in return? silly prefect~ things like these should be shared (with only you of course)! the moment he feels your peck on his cheek and an adorable thank you coming from the lips that had just kissed him, he immediately draws close to your face and kisses you back. pulling away, he seems satisfied by the outcome of his actions. oh? (y/n), your cheeks are incredibly red! he laughs as he pokes your face. do you enjoy the tables being turned on you~?

cater diamond, FLOYD LEECH, jade leech, kalim al-asim, VIL SCHOENHEIT, ROOK HUNT, LILIA VANROUGE

he smiles at you. sweet and gentle like a lily of a valley, his smile alone sends waves of enchantment through your mind as the light from the sun causes the grinning eyes of the young man to shine along with the whites of his teeth, practically blinding you. you feel like you're staring at an angel. sevens, maybe even a prince. his reaction is just simply too pure for his own good; you didn't expect your actions to come with such beautiful consequences at all. he continues smiling at you, paying no mind to the way you seem to look up at him in awe, and nods his head with a swift the pleasure is mine to his lips. you can't even tell if he's doing it on purpose anymore. perhaps you'd be better not knowing at all. for your heart's sake, that is.

cater diamond, trey clover, jade leech, azul ashengrotto, KALIM AL-ASIM, VIL SCHOENHEIT, rook hunt, SILVER

he's fine. dandy. marvelous. magnificent. he's totally not blubbering and flailing his arms around like a fish out of water, oh no siree, not today. that's just what friends do to thank each other, right? RIGHT???? he continues to sputter nonsense into the air as you stare, amused, and loses touch of whatever self-awareness he has left. whether he's in denial or just plain dense, the young man wishes to do whatever it takes to not make a fool of himself. in front of you, at that. though, all seems to be for naught as he begins to cough and choke on his own breath attempting to do his best in waving a composed “goodbye” to you, the prefect. he also totally did not fall flat on his poor nose trying to walk away from you once the exchange was over. totally.

DEUCE SPADE, jack howl, EPEL FELMIER, IDIA SHROUD, SEBEK ZIGVOLT

he questions your sanity. bold move of you, prefect. bold move. he's genuinely surprised at your actions, especially when most would avoid being so close to him in that way if it was the last thing they'd do. it's not everyday that you get kissed by a certain prefect. your ability to do whatever your mind had set on causes him to look at you with an expression of both astoundment and amusement. it's refreshing to see someone like you in twisted wonderland, if he were to be honest. aside from that, however, he's completely fine. if you're plan was to fluster the young man, then he wishes you luck for next time.

leona kingscholar, JADE LEECH, MALLEUS DRACONIA

a/n: idk about u but i would need a literal STOOL to reach some of these boys 💀