#the way the woman on the right frames the women and girl on the left makes it so much creepier than if it was just either painting separate

[cruelsister-moved2]

genuinely someone needs to make a like 'how to spot orientalism in art' post for yalls aesthetic blogs im getting so sick !!! im not an expert on either art or orientalism but something that's usually easy to spot in portraits of women is the a voyeuristic gaze of the invisible white man peeking into imagined private women's spaces. the women are both sexualised and veiled, relaxed and unobserved yet they perform for an unseen gaze.

quick example from what was put on my dash today;

see how theyre in what appears to be a private courtyard with lots of women around. they're taking off shoes, chatting, resting, removing veils, to show that this is a private space that is forbidden to you, the european male observer. they're veiled, their clothing is all designed to obscure their bodies completely, but the woman on the right is gazing directly at you and seductively exposing herself for you. the painting is doing everything it can to show that you shouldn't be here, that your gaze is unwelcome, that these women are vulnerable and letting their guards down, and yet that they crave it, they're unwittingly soliciting it and always performing for it, because of their hidden desire for you to see through their modesty. their veils are no longer a cultural garment but something donned explicitly to tempt you, to indicate the exoticism and carnality of what lies beneath.

i'm not telling you how you can and can't interact with this art, i just think it's very important to be aware of what power dynamics are at play in images like these and what real life ideas they perpetuated - and continue to perpetuate - against real life colonised women.

[katakaluptastrophy]

Alecto was the first body John ever made. And G1deon was the second, regrown from just an arm.

And if G1deon is anything to go by, John isn't very good at making bodies:

Unlike the other Lyctors, all of whom skewed hungry, soft men and women of the necromancer build, his frame carried nothing but muscle. He was sinew over bone. He was a walking tendon. He had a raw, stretched look to him like an idiot’s construct, bones that had been slippered in meaty fibrils to keep them moving. A metabolized, contracted striation, without fat, the only curve a hollow tautness from rib to stomach.

John had grown up with G1deon and knew what he looked like. He might even have been able to scrounge up a picture from somewhere. He presumably had time to think about reconstructing his body and was able to take time to do it. And yet, G1deon looks like this:

It was a man who looked like he had been stripped bloody by a wind machine and hadn’t healed up all the way; a wiry, knuckled-up tendon of a man, with the face of someone who had been starved once and burned recently.

If that's what a body he constructed with premeditation and planning and concentration looks like, how does one he made under more pressure look?

I wanted to make you the most beautiful body I could think of. He paused and said: “But I was stressed, okay? I was insane. Most of what had made me John had gone somewhere else. There were a few little thoughts left … a handful of things that made me me … a couple scraps of id. It’s not fair to judge me, right? I didn’t do this thinking … I didn’t do it like art.

John seems to think there's something to apologise for in Alecto's body.

We do get a description of Alecto, from Harrow's memories of her attempted divine murder/suicide at the age of 10:

God’s victory and death was a girl. Maybe a woman. At the time Harrowhark had not known how to tell, and the gender was only a self-interested guess. The corpse lay packed in ice, wearing a white shift, her hands clasping a frost-rimed sword, and she was beautiful. The formation of her muscles was perfect. Each limb was a carved representation of a perfect limb, each bloodless foot the lifeless and high-arched simulacrum of the perfect foot. Each black and frosted lash lay against the cheeks with perfect still blackness, and her nose—it was the pinnacle of what a nose should be. None of this would have broken Harrow’s spirit except that the mouth alone was perfectly imperfect: a little crooked, with a divot in the lower lip as though someone had softly pressed a dent into the bow with the tip of their finger.

Maybe Alecto is the perfect specimen of womanhood. Maybe Harrow was ten and had never seen anyone young and not swathed in vestments before and the bar was very low. Maybe Harrow just has very particular taste in women.

But between G1deon, John's apologies, that "high-arched simulacrum" of a foot, and Kiriona - Gideon, now with Extra Teeth - I have a feeling she doesn't just look like a regular blond lady.

[mhsdatgo]

Always hated the way according to TB I'm supposed, as a woman, to root for Rhaenyra "Mary Sue" Targaryen because she's a Valyrian woman and can't do no wrong. Otherwise I'm framed as a misogynist, an enabler, a rape apologist, every name in the book. As if this isn't the same girl who coerced her bodyguard because her erectile disfunction uncle didn't wanna bang her after leaving her in a brothel, naked and on plain sight for any kind of perverted brute. As if this isn't the same girl who weaponized both her and her best friend's trauma to twist a truth about something she very willingly did that could've had her disowned if her father was anyone else other than the weak ass neglectful rapist pedo father she had instead.

This is the same girl who ignored and mistreated Alicent when all she did was convince Viserys to allow her privileges she never had, like choosing a husband. Like it or not, it was Alicent the one who gave gave and gave, and Rhaenyra the one who took took and took and even MOCKED, time and time again. The same girl who acted like a victim when the girl she called her literal best friend (only when it benefitted her) was getting maritally R*PED in the next room by her crusty ass father. She never tried connecting with her siblings because they were Alicent's children. Not because their minds were poisoned, not because they were apparently bitter towards her. Because they weren't her mother's children. Same as Viserys. Guess the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.

I'm supposed to root for a woman who doesn't do one single thing for the claim she feels so entitled to (who was purely based on Viserys' grief and guilt for Aemma)? I'm supposed to root for a woman who brings back to the line of succession the same man everyone wanted far from the line of succession? I'm supposed to root for the woman who wants to be the exception, not give possibilities to other women like an ACTUAL feminist does? She usurps her stepdaughters' claims in favor of her obviously bastard children, and no, betrothing the fpur of them isn't the same. If they die, the girls' claim dies with them, and guess what, exactly that happened.

No, I will not root for the woman who wanted a teenager's head because she was black and because she couldn't cope with the fact that "hEr pRiNcE" didn't love her, only what her title could offer. Or the woman who put a price on a 6yo's and a 2yo's head simply because they were her brother's children, thereby proving what Criston said about what was needed for Jace to raise to power after his mother. She even denied the request of multiple older daughters/sisters who rightfully wanted to lead their houses, with the excuse that the relam would be far too 'imbalanced'. Girl, are you that dense? There's the smallfolk getting eaten and burned and taxes by your dragon and your entire family fighting wars and dying left and right and you think two women ruling their houses will destabilize the realm?

Rhaenyra is many things, but feminist is not among them, no matter how much you cry and whine about it. Yes, I'm aware that no woman in asoiaf or f&b can be described as feminist. But the convinction (and delusion) that Rhaenyra is, without a shadow of doubt, is mindblowing. She's arguably worse than any of said women combined.

No, I don't feel represented or uplifted by a tyrant, classist, racist, hypocritical, spoiled kinslayer with god complex because she's albino and has a pet dragon as spoiled and as useless as her. Sorry not sorry.

[your-highnessmarvel]

So Much Paperwork

Requested by Anonymous: can you do one with avenger!reader and bucky and they get like either captured by hydra or locked in a room and there sex pollen and they don’t want to get dirty because they’re friends but… eventually they do? ❤️❤️❤️ if you’re not comfortable with this it’s ok!

AN: i’ve never written sex pollen before so bare with me! this is a heeellll of a ride LMMMAAOOOO this is going to spruce up my Bucky masterlist LETS GO

Warnings: smut (oral f!receiving, hand job, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, praising, biting), sex pollen, dub!con action, language, mentions of HYDRA

*gif not mine

Enjoyed this and want more? Send in your requests!

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MASTERLIST

When Cap had said it was just a Hydra base, you hadn’t expected to enter a motherlode of enemy information. Opening that vault was like finding a cave filled with gold - every inch of the vault was brimming with sensitive Hydra files, all dog-eared, marked up, or highlighted. 

Bucky insisted on going through each and everyone of them. He had you open up each file cabinet, sift through each file, pick out the most interesting of them all, and place them by the door. Thank God you could read German. 

“Look at this one,” he called from the other side of the vault, far off in the corner. 

You were examining a file on something Hydra called Experiment 4H7, Phase 4. You let the file go before even reading the subject of the experiment and made your way towards Bucky. 

He was wearing his familiar all black outfit, the metal arm a stark silver against the vault’s gold and his suit’s black. He looked over his metal shoulder as you approached. 

“I’m guessing they’re keeping more red rooms in Ukraine,” he stated, showing you the file. There were a number of pictures of young girls varying from blondes to brunets to red heads, all different heights, all different shades of skin tones. 

“Yup,” you sighed, pointing to a line in the file. “That’s a graduate class, I’m guessing, look at that.” You pointed to the German word for Graduation and felt a deep pinch in your belly. These poor women. Unaware that they would be stripped of their rights, of what made them woman. 

You swallowed. “Okay,” you said. “I think we should just leave with what’s by the door?”

You stepped back, feeling the tile beneath your booted heel give and fall an inch lower. A metallic sound, like two gears churning to work, echoed loudly in the vault, and slowly, the vault door started shutting. 

“It’s a boobytrap!” Bucky yelled, dropping the file and running to the door, his metallic hand out to stop it.

“Did I step on a mine?” you yelled back, panic gripping every nerve in your body. 

It felt like time slowed as you looked over your shoulder, soft strands of hair slicking against the sweat on your cheek. You saw Bucky arrive at the door when it had but a few inches left to go, jamming his metal fingers between the closing door and the oval frame.

Every beat of your heart burned as you watched his face flush red, veins in his neck pulsing as he struggled to keep the door just a slight inch open. 

And then, overhead, a quiet squirting sound. You felt tiny pinpricks of water touch your cheek and you looked up. 

“Bucky.” But his name was lost to the sound of him groaning, grunting, heels sliding against the cement floor, sweat forming on his upper lip - all to keep the door from closing. “Bucky!”

When he looked back at you, the vault door closed with a deafening boom. 

“Y/N, don’t breathe in!” he gasped, retrieving his fingers form the door, panting as he made his way towards you. 

“Too late,” you said, feeling the minuscule dots of water dampen the inside of your nose, your lips, your tongue. It tasted so sweet. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, bending to your rest his hand on your boot, the one still pressed on the loose tile. “Y/N, I don’t think it’s a mine.”

You shivered, something achy climbing its way up your spine, burying deep in your belly. “Why?” you asked, closing your eyes as you felt his metal fingers clamp hard over your booted ankle. 

“Because,” he answered. “This was just the trigger for the door.”

You sighed. “Of course, I’m the dumbass who triggers the trap.”

“No worries, doll,” he said with a chuckle, and that nickname, that chuckle, made something sticky and thick slide down your belly, settling comfortably between your legs. Oh no. 

“How do we get out?” you asked, finally moving away from the tile as Bucky stood. You met his eyes, towering over you, and your skin suddenly flashed so hot that you feared he could see the heat fuming off your flesh. You sighed, an excuse to get air into your lungs, to fan out the heat invading your bones. 

He frowned, bent over to get on eye level with you. “Fuck,” he spat, walking towards the door. 

“What?” you asked, suddenly feeling your throat stick, parched, thick with saliva all at once. “Bucky, what’s happening?” You’d wanted your voice to sound panicky, but somehow, it came out... breathy. Like a purr. 

Bucky bashed his metal fist into the vault door, but the thing only echoed the sound back, not even denting, not even screeching. 

“Fuck!” Bucky yelled, raking his flesh hand through his short, cropped hair. 

He looked at you over the expanse of the vault, just a few meters apart, and something inside you ached, like an intense burn that made the fabric of your suit hurt against your skin, feel like hot iron against your nipples, the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh. 

God, you needed to get out of this suit. But not here. 

“How long until Cap comes for us?” you asked, falling to your knees, heat blasting from your knees to your scalp as you found the floor. Maybe it was cold. 

Bucky didn’t answer. He watched you fall flat to the ground, press your heated, sweaty cheek to the floor, chasing any kind of relief from this mounting pain, this heat. 

He gritted his teeth and took a step back. 

“What’s happening?” you asked again, rolling onto your back. The floor was but a brief relief of the heat, of the pain burning harshly under your skin. You closed your sweaty lids, scrapped your nails against your damp hairline. When had you gotten so sweaty? 

You reached up to the zipper of your one-piece suit, ready to tug it down. 

“Y/N, don’t.” Bucky’s voice, usually comforting, friendly, guiding - now sounded like a wolfish demand, a famished lion salivating at the sight of bleeding prey. 

You breathed in harshly, suddenly, your mind shifting the narrative of who Bucky was to you in a split second. A heartbeat before, Bucky was your superior, your friend who’d been nothing but a guiding force through your life - taking you from the depths of fear and desperation to acceptance. He’d brought you to the Avengers, to Cap and Nat, to a team of people like you - misfits who fit together. 

But now. Now the Bucky you knew was shadowed by this new grumbling, groaning wolf. 

“It hurts,” you panted, eyes still closed. You reached up anyway and undid your zipper, opening your suit down to your bellybutton, like slicing open a piece of meat. 

You heard something fleshy hit the floor, and you opened your eyes, looking back. It hurt to scrape your head against the cement, but you saw Bucky on his knees there, looking at you with something dark and hungry glazing over his eyes. 

Your eyes fell back to the ceiling above you, and you opened your suit up, arching off the cement in search of air. Your skin was pebbled with sweat, scorched to the touch. 

“If you expose more skin,” Bucky panted, and you realized that he was closer, almost breathing into your ear. “I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”

“What’s happening?” you asked, for the millionth time, feeling an ache start to build dangerously fast in your cunt, throbbing, burning, slicking down your thighs with every beat of your heart. Every rush of blood in your veins was pain, every throb in your hole like a searing demand, an ache insatiable. Even when you wiggled, even when you groaned, clamping your thighs together, turning to your side and trying to find friction.  

Your clit was a pained, throbbing mess. 

“Doll,” Bucky breathed, and God, that sent another wave of hurt coursing down your spine, snapping in your blood like lightning. You could feel your pussy slick even more at the utter wretchedness of his voice.  

You groaned. Shaking your head. “No,” you whined. “Not this.” You’d heard about this - this experiment on something Hydra called sex pollen. They’d first used it in their breeding program they’d started during the second world war, when they wanted more Aryan children. They’d perfected it during the Cold War, and started manufacturing it for breeding camps they’d scattered across barren wastelands to produce more Hydra pawns. And now, they were using it as chemical warfare. 

“Bucky, no,” you whined, feeling hot, steaming tears wet your cheeks. You couldn’t do this. Bucky was your friend, your boss even. He was 7 years older than you (although he was technically like, 109 years old, but still). You were a rookie and he, your training officer. Your were his student and he was your professor. This was wrong on so many levels. “How much time does this last?” you asked, shivering, feeling another nauseating wave of need pulse through you. 

“I’m... I’m not sure,” he said, struggling to say each word. Like air was unknown to his lungs. Like he was fighting every instinct in his bones. 

But just the sound of his voice was enough to make another wave of excruciating pain wash through you, making you groan and wiggle against the floor. That ache in your clit intensified, pulsed painfully.

“Make it stop,” you murmured. “It hurts... so much.”

There was a second of silence until you heard the telltale sound of fabric rustling. Just the thought of Bucky naked, even an inch of skin available to your hungry eyes, made your cunt clench on nothing and you groaned in pain again. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” he said. “There’s only one way to make it stop.”

You shook your head, shivering. “No.”

Your heart stuttered as another wash of hot, molten lava scorched through your veins and this time, you sobbed, teeth clenching. 

“You can die, y/n,” Bucky whimpered and this time, his voice was right there, above you, a hand skimming across your thigh. 

You made a whimpering sound at the feel of his hand, even the slightest touch like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over your head. 

You opened your eyes and through tear-stained lashed and heavy lids, you looked back, seeing Bucky hunched over you, shirtless and sweating and with nothing but pain in those dark blue eyes of his. 

He bit his lip, meeting your eyes, and he nodded slowly. 

At this point, your entire body was shivering, sweaty, heating to the point that you thought your body would shut down. 

“Let me help,” he said, wretched, rough. 

When he applied the entire weight of his hand on your hip, it was like a lightning bolt had exploded under your skin. A moan ripped from your throat, utterly wrecked and rough and gone. 

Bucky said something but it was lost to the smoke in your head. He pulled down the rest of your suit, exposing hardened nipples to the air, but it still wasn’t cold enough. You wiggled your hips as he dragged the rest of the fabric down your body, to your legs until he was chucking off your boots and leaving you in nothing but your underwear. 

“Doll,” he rasped, pressing his fingers to your ankles, gently scraping up until he was resting both hands on the inside of your soft, plush thighs. “You’re soaked.”

You groaned, panting on the floor, feeling sticky, achy, and on fire. You pressed your hips forward, searching, searching. “Bucky, please.”

“Jesus, forgive me,” he groaned, and when you opened your eyes to meet the white lights above, he pressed a kiss to your clothed clit and you moaned salaciously.

One hand instinctively gripped at the roots of his brown hair, pulling him ever closer. The other clawed at the arm that came to rest over your tummy. 

A sharp, bruising knot formed in your tummy when he used one finger to move your thong to the side and he pressed a warm, wet kiss to your bare pussy. 

“Fuck, Bucky.” It came as a breath, like this was the first fresh, real breath you’d taken in years. 

He groaned against your skin, the vibrations dribbling up your belly, up your spine. Your toes curled as he gave his first few strokes of his tongue, long and harsh, like he was at a watering hole after days of being parched. 

“You taste like heaven, kitten,” he murmured, flattening his tongue against your clit and stroking it quickly, little flicks that sent your spine arching, your eyes closing, toes curling against his back. 

He gripped your hips in both hands, digging in to his meal, each stroke of his tongue like a spark against your clit. 

Your first orgasm wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to quench the heat, to cool the fire raging in your belly. Like a monstrous black wave, the pollen kept your senses awaken. 

“Bucky, again,” you whined, closing your thighs against his head, guiding his mouth back to your hole. He kept licking, sucking against your clit. 

Your second orgasm was like a temporary wash of relief. You smiled against each wave, hips stuttering against Bucky’s mouth. 

“It won’t be enough,” he said, voice wrecked, as he kissed up your thighs, igniting another wave of harsh, hot lava to drip from your belly into your clit. You whined. “I know,” he cooed, his eyes glazed as he hovered over you. When you met his gaze, you could see that he was fighting his own seams, that he was just as fragile and wanting and needing as you were. 

You reached between your bodies, skimming your nails down his hard chest, hearing the faint groan that left his lips. You patted down his belly, down until your hand wrapped around the impossibly hard, thick bulge in his suit pants. 

He bowed forward, sighing, moaning as you felt him out. Something like confidence, dark cunning, invaded your senses like a drug. 

“I need to be inside you so bad, y/n,” he groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your shoulder. Just the weight of his body on your chest, feeling his heat, his every breath, every tremble of his fingers as he clawed at your bare hip, your plush thighs, made you tremble with need. 

Hurriedly, he pressed away from you, pushing down his pants until his drooling, hard cock sprang free. He let it flop against your belly, groaning at the feeling, and when you met his eyes, he was nothing but a feral, hungry wolf. 

He claimed your mouth in a sudden, voracious kiss, tasting yourself on his lips as he ground into you. Delving his tongue passed your teeth, nipping at your bottom lip, breathing life into you with every stroke of his tongue against yours. 

You gripped his shaft slowly, feeling the velvety skin, stroking him in slow, languid movements of your wrist. Your other hand found his hair, pushing his mouth closer to yours, kissing him with fervour and need. His own hands cupped your head, positioned you the way he wanted. 

Then his metal fingers closed over your knee, hooking your leg over his hips, and he pulled away form your mouth in a wet, sloppy pop. He breathed, calming himself, but with you clawing at his shoulders, bringing him closer, hands stroking his dick quickly, he couldn’t stop himself. Even if he wanted to. Even if, deep down, in the dark, almost forgotten corners of his mind, he knew this was wrong, wrong, wrong - he wanted to lose himself in you. Just your taste wasn’t enough. Two of your orgasms against his lips wasn’t enough. Kissing you like he’d dreamed of doing so many times in his wet dreams - all of it wasn’t enough. 

He fell to one forearm, bringing his mouth to your ear. Your hand still slicking against him. Your mouth kissing against his neck, up his jaw. Your other hand digging nails into the hard muscle of his tricep. Your hot, wet thigh pressed against his bare hip. 

“I’m going to fuck you, y/n,” he grunted against your ear. 

You nodded, pushing your hips up, towards him. He pulled away from your stroking hand and you felt his tip press at your wet entrance. He shivered when he thrust the tip in, feeling your hole give in to him. 

You gasped as he slid in slowly. Now was when you realized just how big he was. How thick and unforgiving his cock was as he stretched your walls, impaling himself into you inch by inch. 

It was a painful stretch that made your knees tremble, gripping onto his shoulders for dear fucking life. 

“So tight,” he whispered against your ear. “Were you waiting for me, doll?”

His voice was like a sin committed in church. 

You whimpered when he pushed in completely, seating himself to the root, until every inch of him was pressed up against you. 

“Did you save this pussy for me, huh, kitten?” he rasped, pulling back and thrusting in slowly. He groaned, bowing forward. “So wet, doll, I can feel you dripping all over me.”

Who knew Bucky could be this filthy with his mouth. It made your body snap like a rubberband. 

He kissed up your throat, giving you shallow, quick strokes until he could feel your gummy walls relax and when he knew you were ready, he rutted against you like a dog gone mad. 

He gripped your hip, thrusting into you until your body was numb, your walls clenching against him, a pressure building just under your bellybutton. 

“Bucky,” you whined, sobbed, as he kept hitting that spot in you that made sparks dance along your spine.

“I can feel you, doll,” he grunted, teeth biting into your shoulder. “Come on, darlin’, you’re almost there.”

Your mouth opened in a small ‘o’, spine arching off the floor, adding to the pressure against his dick as your walls clenched impossibly tight against him, fluttering, buzzing, until your orgasm exploded through your flesh like a bomb of sparks and fireworks. 

You fell back to the floor, spine loose against the cement, your orgasm spinning through your blood as he kept rutting into you, chasing his own relief. 

You weakly grabbed onto his shoulders, pressed your face against his shoulder. “Fuck me, Bucky,” you pleaded. “Fuck me like I know you’ve always wanted to.” Your voice was so small, so wrecked from him, and it drove him crazy, drilling into you without rhythm. 

“So filthy, my doll,” he cooed, groaning when he heard you moan against his flesh. 

He fell onto you so suddenly, robbing you of air as he ground against you, chasing his own high. And after a few sloppy, shallow thrusts, you felt his cum inside you, his seed filling every inch of your gummy walls until he was dripping out of you and onto the cement. 

He breathed roughly, panting, gasping against your shoulder. And suddenly, his harsh hands became gentle on your cooling skin, stroking slowly against your waist. 

Your heart slowed, numbness filling you up like a dark, tentative wave. You were finally, finally cooling down, at peace, no more pain or ache or desire making every one of your movements excruciating. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” Bucky panted quietly, his face still hidden in your shoulder. “I never intended us to do... this.”

You shook your head. But no words formed in your mind, no coherent thought even took place as you just lay there, enjoying his weight, his heat. 

“We can’t stay here,” he said. He was so quiet, so gentle. He helped you get dressed in your soiled, cold suit. He zipped you up, did his best to smooth down your hair, tried to get as much of his cum off the floor with his boot. No use. 

When he got up and tucked himself back in his pants, tugging them over his hips, you couldn’t help the chuckle that left your lips. 

“We’re going to be in so much trouble, Bucky,” you said, almost like if you laughed about it, it wasn’t that bad, right?

He sighed, shaking his head. “Just...” he hesitated, putting his shirt back on. “I couldn’t watch you suffer like that.”

You nodded. 

“Cap will come get us,” he continued, almost reassuringly. “We’ll get some rest... shower too, and then we’ll talk about what’s next.”

You leaned against the wall, so tired, so fucked out that nothing else seemed even remotely satisfying except your bed. 

“What’s next is a lot of fucking paperwork, Buck.”

[celestialprincesse]

If you’re not taking requests then just ignore me! But could you maybe write something for Soap and Ghost both wanting the same girl and she opts to not choose 🥰 I’m dying to read your smutty take on this

I'm like chowing down on your brain right now this is so scrumdiddyumyum 🎀

nsfw ⭐️ mdni

Johnny wanted you first. The, moment you hopped down from the helo and into his life, he wanted you. Everything about the way your eyes glittered in the early spring sunlight to the way your errant baby hairs practically begged for him to sweep them back behind your ears, everything about you. You'd been called in as a temporary spotter for a few missions, but he earnestly, foolishly hoped you'd stick around. Just for a little while.

He'd also foolishly hoped that he'd be the only one to want you. In the beginning, he thought he was.

But of course, fucking Simon had to ruin everything. Of course. He has a tendency to not realise what an Adonis he is, with his towering six foot frame and muscles for days, no, weeks. Simon, and his innate ability to have every woman in the same room simpering.

He'd noticed the switch in a debrief. Normally cold, callous Simon guiding you through the door with a hand on the small of your back, pulling out your chair for you with such cool, casual confidence. Normally such an action would mean nothing. Nothing would change between them or the team. They'd never liked the same types or gone for the same women. You, unfortunately, were a perfect blend of the things they both absolutely adored. Just chirpy enough to keep up with Johnny's boisterous personality, mellow enough to relax with Simon. You were just bratty enough to give Johnny the fight he fight he always craved, submissive enough to know when Simon wanted you to stay in line. You were dangerously perfect.

You also had a tendency to come in early in the mornings. Like your teammates. More specifically, Johnny and Simon, that is.

Simon always came in early after the gym, to not only get to the teabags first, but also settle into his morning work routine before the others arrived.

Johnny would in as early as possible to try and get the first appointment with the physio whenever she dropped in.

For you, it had actually been a one off. You'd left your charger in the common room yesterday, and wanted to make sure your laptop wasn't dead for briefing minutes.

The quiet arguing begins the common room door had been unexpected to say the least.

Johnny's delicious brogue grew thicker as your ear pressed to the door, eyebrows furrowing as you attempted to gain an understanding of their conversation.

" - cannae understand why you won't jus' leave her alone."

"She seems perfectly fine with my attention." Simon drawled back, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't have your knees weak with the thought alone.

In your not-yet-eight-AM delirium, you'd barely even registered that the door wasn't all the way closed. Until you'd barrelled into it. With your full body weight. The string of colourful expletives which passed through your lips as you went crashing into the threadbare rug had been enough to snap Johnny and Simon from their boyish row.

"Speak of the devil." The amusement dripping from Simon's voice had you cringing.

"Laptop? I -" You'd barely managed to stammer before Johnny had you back up on your feet, a concerned look on his face as he went to pick up your (thankfully) unscathed laptop.

"Didnae realise you were one to eavesdrop, hen." Johnny cooed into your ear, a wonderfully warm hand gripping your chin to tilt your head this way and that, making sure you'd not been hurt by your fall.

"Might as well tell her whilst she's here, hm?" Coaxed Simon as you were guided to the squishy old couch in the middle of the room.

"Tell me?"

"Ask you, really." Simon again, with an indifferent shrug.

"We're - we both like ye a lot, hen." Johnny wouldn't dare crowd your space, no matter how strong the urge to reach for your hand, give it an encouraging squeeze.

"I like you too?" You'd vaguely heard yourself mumble, although the sound seemed so disjointed - foggy as you sunk into the depths of your feelings for both men. Equally.

"I like you both, too." Both men nodded as you reiterated what they'd suspected.

"No problem with that." Johnny encouraged, seeing your slightly flustered look, skittish and edgy, having been thrown into such a situation unwillingly, and this early in the morning. "It's twenty-twenty-four. Definitely no the weirdest shite I've seen happening."

"Like - sharing?" You stammered awkwardly, gaze flickering between Simon's understanding one, and Johnny's eager blues.

"S'pose we could give it a try." Simons gruff voice filled the room, tamping down the anxiety bubbling away in your tummy.

"Would you -?" You'd pointed a finger between the two of them, wordlessly indicating the direction of your question, without having to actually speak it.

"For now? No." Simon seemed to have, surprisingly, already thought the entire thing through. Always two steps ahead.

"But we don't mind sharing, so long as yer comfortable with that, hen."

And now, not even a month later, you're sat in the backseat of Simon's car, lips locked with Johnny's in a fervent kiss, your hand stroking eagerly around his shaft, whilst Simon's fingers curl up against the velvety walls of your pussy, his nose bumping the base of your jaw as he nips and sucks at your neck.

You've found that Simon barely needs to be touched to cum, perfectly contented to touch you and taste you until he finishes still straining at his jeans, whilst Johnny is far more hands-on, needs your help, to know you're there. That it's you and no one else.

The two of them are actually getting on surprisingly well in the confines of your relationship, too. The jealousy still rears its ugly head occasionally, but the two men are perfectly happy to push that aside and work together. Especially if it means hearing your pretty moans stifled by Johnny's lips as you cum on Simon's fingers.

I took like four melatonin before writing this, so sorry if it's nonsensical in parts!! It's also like not actually that smutty but!! Oh well!!

[honeybeefae]

Shadows of Fire (Azriel x Reader x Eris)

Summary// You stumbled upon something that you should have never seen, something that would send two courts of Pyrthian into chaos if made public. After a week of trying to forget, the two men cornered you, leaving you nowhere to run even if you wanted. However, deep down inside, did you?

(Azris is like my OTP and writing this was SO fun. I love this idea of a reader sandwich and I cannot lie I have fantasized about this exact scenario multiple times. Enjoy this 4,600 smut fic! I hope you guys like it!)

WARNINGS: Smut, Threesome, Bondage, Edging, Orgasm Denial, MMF, Spitting

By the time you arrived back at your shared apartment, it was late. You weren’t even meant to be there tonight but the date you had planned went up in smoke. He was cocky and rude, staring at your breasts for most of the night while the rest was spent bragging about the women he slept with. 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to him when you declined his invitation to go home with him but by the look on his face, he seemed shocked his moves hadn’t made you putty in his hands. You had to refrain from rolling your eyes when he sneered at you, storming off like a child.

Good riddance.

Your roommate, Azriel, had plans tonight and you hoped you wouldn’t be interrupted as you unlocked the door quietly. His late-night rendezvous often left at this time so your fingers were crossed that you wouldn’t walk in on something that would make your eyes bleed.

And it wasn’t that you thought he was unattractive. Anyone with two eyes could see that he was, with tan skin and a lean frame. Black tattoos covered his body which only added to his dangerous vibe not even counting the wings. You weren’t stupid enough to deny the attraction.

However, you also weren’t stupid enough to jeopardize a friendship for a fuck that could only end badly. Azriel didn’t “do” relationships and you had heard more than one girl leave angrily when he denied them the night. No matter how badly you might want to have sex with him you were not going to give in to the temptation.

The floor creaked under your bare feet as you gingerly walked down the hallway, keeping your eyes ahead as you strained to hear any noises. You cursed under your breath when you heard soft moans and grunts coming from his room, the smell of sex increasing with every step you took.

You picked up your pace and prayed to the Mother they didn’t hear you, not wanting to deal with Azriel’s agitation or god forbid a jealous woman thinking you were here to steal her man. As you beelined for your room beside his you saw the door to his bedroom slightly ajar and you froze when you heard something… unexpected.

“Oh, Az,” A deep, sultry voice moaned loudly. “I always knew you couldn’t resist me.”

That voice…didn’t belong to a woman. It also didn’t belong to just any man, at least not a regular one. Thanks to your emissary duties to the Autumn Court, you knew that voice like the back of your hand. 

That voice belonged to Eris.

Surprise was an understatement for what you were feeling as your feet cemented into the floor, your dark figure looming in the doorway as you saw the two of them. There were a few candles lit around the room, giving just the right amount of light for you to see the two sworn enemies in a very interesting position. 

Azriel had Eris pinned against a wall, his wings tucked in tightly as he bit and sucked at the red-headed male’s neck. Eris had his head thrown back in ecstasy, his hands digging into the Shadowsinger’s hips as he ground down onto his clothed thigh. They were both breathing heavily, their shirtless chests already coated in sweat. You knew you needed to leave, to pretend that you never saw the two of them like this, but something about them was hypnotic.

The way their bodies moved against each other, how Azriel’s shadows caressed the neglected areas of Eris while they shucked off the rest of their clothes. It was like they were the only two in the world. A thrill went down your spine at being such a voyeur to this scene, the taboo couple adding fuel to the fire as you felt yourself grow wet.

“I might put that mouth of yours to better use, prince,” Azriel growled as he grasped Eris’s cock through his boxers, his grin feral at how he melted into his touch. “You’re only good for sucking my cock anyways. Isn’t that right?”

One of your hands flew over your mouth to conceal the moan that wanted to escape as you watched Eris nod submissively, his knees hitting the floor as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.

Azriel fisted Eris’s hair into his hand and guided him to his cock, his nostrils flaring as he got to work. You could only see his head bobbing up and down but your mind was ready to fill in the blanks, your fingers itching to bury themselves in your needy cunt.

“Oh, fuck, Eris,” The Illyrian growled loudly, his hips pistoning in and out as he used him as his fucktoy. You watched Eris palm at his red cock, the candlelight catching the bead of precum on his tip as he readily took everything Azriel gave to him.

Your fingers were teasing the waistband of your panties before you sent them further south, rubbing your clit through your underwear. It was just the right amount of friction that had you biting your tongue to keep quiet as you watched them. 

After only a few seconds of teasing yourself, you couldn’t wait any longer and hastily pushed your panties aside to shove your fingers inside yourself. You knew it wasn’t going to be enough but you kept fucking yourself, matching your thrusts with Azriel's as their moans grew louder. 

Everything was getting too hot, too fast, and you gripped the doorway to steady yourself, freezing when it creaked under your weight.

No, no, no, no…

Both men froze and turned to look where the sound had come from, their gazes full of surprise and what looked like anger as they took in your form, your smell, and your hand down your pants. You blinked once before yanking your fingers out of your still-dripping core and running out the apartment door, slamming into an innocent person who just happened to be walking by.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry!” You spluttered as you kept running, waving a hand behind you while weaving through the streets. The night air was cold on your skin as you looked behind you, making sure you weren’t followed before you finally stopped to lean against a building. “What the fuck have I done?”

Both of your hands went up to grab the sides of your head as you looked up at the stars, shaking your head in disbelief. You had lost yourself in watching them, their passion, and not only intruded on their very personal moment but also fucked yourself while watching.

You had just ruined not one but two relationships for a stupid, lust-driven decision. Azriel would never be able to look you in the eyes again and Eris…mother above, your already shaky relationship with his court has now crumbled completely.

“I am so screwed…I might as well pack my shit up tonight.” You mumbled to yourself, trying to stop your bottom lip from quivering as your anger turned to sadness. 

“Why would you do that?” A raspy voice asked from beside you, making you jump and whip around. Your eyes widened in fear when you saw Azriel leaning casually against the wall, Truthteller twirling in his hands. “Did you see something you weren’t supposed to?”

“Azriel, I-” You tried to explain, taking a nervous step back only to bump into a solid mass. Your throat bobbed as you leaned your head back to find a smirking Eris. “Guys, listen, I am so sorry-”

“Are you though?” Eris tilted his head, grabbing your forearms roughly and spinning you around to face him. “You could have run, you could have gone to bed, but you stood there watching us…”

“With your fingers shoved in your needy little cunt.” Azriel finished for him, pushing himself off the wall to come up behind you. “What you saw tonight…it does not leave your mouth, do you understand?”

You hesitated, your entire body on high alert as you were sandwiched between the two men, and you flinched when you saw Az’s eyes darken. Before you could blink he had his scarred fingers gripping your face painfully, his nose brushing against yours as he bent down and said, “Answer me.”

“I swear on my life.” You promised quickly, eyes flickering between the two of them. “I won’t tell anyone just please let me go, please don’t hurt me.”

He held you for a moment longer before letting go, both of them stepping back as you took in much-needed air with a hand over your chest. Adrenaline was coursing through your body as you started to walk away, resisting the urge to run, until something cool wrapped around your wrist and yanked you back.

Your feet stumbled but you caught your footing before you could faceplant, looking down to see one of Azriel’s shadows holding your arm. You lifted your frantic gaze upwards only to see them both smirking devilishly.

“Do you smell that?” Azriel hummed, raising a brow towards Eris as the redheaded nodded and clicked his tongue.

“I do…it’s the same smell that was in the apartment when Y/N was fucking herself,” Eris replied. You could feel a shift in the air as they watched you with wicked delight. The sound of your heartbeat was roaring in your ears as you struggled against the shadowy binds only to gasp when a rope of fire slithered around your other arm. “Where do you think you’re going, pet?”

“The fun is just starting.” The Spymaster smiled as they both tugged you forward roughly, sending you spiraling towards them until four large hands caught you and straightened you out. “You wanted to watch us so badly. Let us put on a proper show for you.”

“No, I don’t-” You tried to protest only to shudder when you felt a pair of warm lips on the shell of your ear, the heat of the fiery bonds increasing briefly as Eris dragged a hand down the side of your body. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did and when you looked up you saw Azriel watching you with hooded eyes. 

“Are you sure about that, mouse? Look at how quickly you’re coming apart.” He snickered, cupping your face and running his thumb over your bottom lip. “We’ve barely even touched you and you look like you’re ready to burst.”

Eris continued his lazy exploration of your body while his mouth caressed your neck. Your hands were fisted at your sides as Azriel watched on, licking his lips as he slipped the pad of his thumb into your mouth. “Suck it.”

And despite all the qualms you had about this situation, about the two of them, you found yourself immediately listening to his instructions. You took the large digit and started sucking and swirling your tongue around it, the slight groan from Az’s throat only spurring you on.

“Good girl.” Eris whispered into your ear. 

Another shiver ran down your spine from his words as you closed your eyes to avoid the embarrassment of how much this was turning you on. However, Azriel seemed to want to watch how they were affecting you. Both of their bonds suddenly disappeared as you stumbled back, barely catching yourself against the wall as you glared at them.

“What the hell?” You huffed, crossing your arms before letting out a small shriek as Eris threw you over his shoulder. Your fists banged against his back while your feet kicked around but a loud, hard slap to your ass got you to still momentarily.

“Save your voice for the bedroom, pet. You’re going to need it.” He chuckled with a glance over at Azriel, the two of them nodding before you felt yourself drop into nothingness. Your stomach churned as you winnowed into Azriel’s bedroom, Eris dropping you roughly on the bed as the Spymaster swooped in from the balcony.

“I truly am sorry, more than sorry even, for invading your privacy.” You swallowed thickly, your palms sweaty. “What I did was wrong and perverted and-”

“Mother above, shut her up, Eris.” Azriel rolled his eyes, smiling when your eyes widened as a thick rope of fire tightened around your throat. It wasn’t tight enough to cut off your airway but you knew he could if he wanted. “Spare us the holier than though speech, mouse.”

“I’m just-” You tried to argue only to gasp when the fire grew hotter. Your skin starts to sweat from the heat and you realize that four more binds have wrapped around your wrists and ankles, spreading you open for the two of them. Eris also used the opportunity to burn your clothes to dust, the wind scattering it across the floor as he left you bare for them.

“You just what? You just stood there and watched as I fucked Eris’s mouth? Stood there and touched yourself to the sight of the two of us?” Azriel was now on top of you, his eyes dark and tone seductive. “Admit it, Y/N. Admit it to yourself that you enjoyed watching us. Admit that deep down inside you are nothing but a wanton whore.”

“I’m not!” You denied, frowning, only to thrash and struggle as a cloth was shoved into your mouth. “Mmm! Mphm!”

Azriel clicked his tongue while shaking his head, stepping back onto the floor and turning to Eris. “Shall we continue before we were so rudely interrupted?”

“What about her?” Eris jerked his head towards you as you still struggled against your restraints. He frowned and narrowed his eyes, the flames licking up your skin burning fiercely for a moment until you whimpered in pain. “I must admit, I’ve wanted to taste her from the moment she walked into my court.”

“As soon as she can admit to herself that she loves watching and being treated like this, she can join us. Until then…” Azriel trailed off, grabbing Eris’s hips and pulling him towards him. The redhead grinned and kissed him with a passionate fire you could feel from the bed, their teeth clashing as they hastily removed their clothing.

You bit down on the cloth as their cocks sprang free from the confine of their pants, both of them impossibly large and thick. Azriel had more length while Eris was slightly girthier, though you know what mattered more was how they used it. Wetness began to pool between your thighs once more as you wriggled slightly, trying to gain some friction.

“Knees. Now.” Azriel commanded, his chest rumbling when Eris readily responded and took his cock in his mouth. It was already hard and you moaned loudly when you saw Eris’s throat bob with every inch he took of the Illyrian. 

Your fingers flexed as you watched him swallow Azriel down to the base, the Shadowsinger making a choking sound before grabbing a fistful of red hair and holding him there for several seconds. Tears were welling up in Eris’s eyes as he struggled to breathe but he never fought against Az’s hold. He took everything he was giving him.

“Good boy, good fucking boy,” Azriel grunted, finally letting him come up for air as he turned to look at you. “Look at how wet you’ve made her, Eris. She’s soaking the sheets.”

“Fuck, she looks delicious…” Eris moaned. “Are you ready to submit yet, pet? Ready to show us how good you can be?”

You hesitated, struggling with the moral and immoral thoughts swirling around your brain, and whined when Azriel shrugged his shoulders and turned back to his lover. “Her loss.” He said, using Eris’s hair to guide him back to his throbbing dick. “Eyes on me, prince.”

He had no hesitation as he went back to work on his cock, his hands rubbing where his mouth couldn’t reach. Your mouth went dry as you saw Azriel grow more and more desperate, his hips snapping in time with Eris’s sucking. Every inch of your skin felt as if you were on fire and when you saw Azriel shove him all the way down his throat, spilling inside him, your resolve finally broke.

“Mmmph! Mmm!” You garbled through the makeshift gag, your pussy weeping with how desperate you were. They ignored you, lost in their own euphoria as Eris’s own cock jerked in need of release. 

“Don’t swallow it, greedy prince. Keep my cum warm for me while I check on our little voyeur.” Az smirked, gingerly pulling out of his mouth before strolling towards you. His cock was glistening with Eris’s spit and his own cum, already starting to get hard again as you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“Something to say, mouse? Do you need something?” He taunted, one of his shadows ghosting over your swollen cunt. It made you buck your hips as you struggled to talk, gasping for air when Azriel yanked the wet gag out of your mouth. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“I like it. I like it and I shouldn’t but I do,” You rambled, chest heaving with each word. “I’m a dirty slut who liked it just please, please fucking touch me. I’m begging you. I need it.”

Azriel mulled over your words, the shadow pressing more firmly on your clit. You knew if he kept going you would cum in no time, your inner walls already clenching as you bit down on your lip to try and control yourself. 

“Was that good enough for you, Eris?” Azriel asked, smirking when he saw him already climbing up the end of the bed. “Or should we make her beg more?”

“No, no, please!” You nearly cried, ignoring the burn from your bonded hands and feet as you tried to get up. “I promise I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll do whatever you want just please touch me.”

You flinched when Azriel’s fingers tilted your head to look at him, his eyes drinking in your tear-stained cheeks and flushed face. He studied you for what felt like forever before bending down until his forehead was touching yours. “You’re ours now, little mouse.”

Eris’s hot, wet tongue licked up your cunt as you were staring at Azriel and it made you cry out in pleasure, taken off guard as he latched onto your clit and started sucking on it roughly.

It was too much sensation at once and with how worked up you were, you already felt yourself teetering on the edge. Azriel seemed to realize as he crawled beside you and pinned your arms to the bed, Eris’s fire disappearing instantly. “Don’t you dare fucking cum, whore. You have to be given permission.” 

“I can’t-” You choked, your hips grinding down as Eris moved down to circle the tip of his tongue over your hole. “I can’t hold it! Please!”

“I said no,” Azriel growled, fingers digging painfully into the soft skin of your arms. “Stuff her full of my cum, prince. Claim her for me.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion until you watched as Eris pulled away from your sopping wet cunt, a small string of saliva following him, and spat Azriel’s cum onto your pussy. The sight of it had your toes curling as Eris gave you a devilish smile, sliding two fingers down your lips, collecting the cum, and then shoving them roughly inside you.

“Oh, fuck!” You yelped as he fucked his lover’s cum into you, his fingers curling with each thrust before he went back to licking and biting your clit. It was the hottest thing you had ever seen and you almost sobbed when Azriel pinned your hips down to keep you still.

All you could do was lay there and take it, desperately trying to fend off your orgasm as Azriel whispered in your ear, “Take it like the dirty slut you are mouse. Feel his thick fingers inside of you, fucking my cum into you.”

“She tastes so fucking, mmph-” Eris growled into your pussy, his amber eyes glowing like embers as he looked up at you. “So fucking good.”

“I bet she does, I can smell how sweet she is,” Azriel said, his fingers dancing down your body until he got to your breasts. “And look at how beautiful these are…just waiting to be marked up.”

He gave your right nipple a harsh smack at the same time Eris sucked your clit again, the pain and pleasure mixing in a toxic wave of lust. They had you seeing stars and they were just getting started. 

“Please, Azriel, Eris, please let me cum,” You begged, your bottom lip quivering as your legs shook with the effort to contain it. “I’ll be good, I’ll be a good girl.”

“You’re so cute when you beg like that, Y/N.” Azriel praised, goosebumps rising on your skin as his breath blew softly onto your neck. “So pretty, such a good whore. Do you think she should cum, Eris?”

Eris pulled back, ignoring your whimpers as he rose to his knees and pulled Azriel into a heated kiss so that he could taste your juices on his tongue. You huffed out angrily, nearly ready to stomp your feet as you felt your orgasm fade into nothing due to the lack of stimulation.

“Is my pet throwing a fit? Did you not already get enough attention?” Eris cooed, turning to watch you as Azriel kissed down his neck and palmed his cock until the High Lord was bucking into his hand. “Are you, ah, are you that needy?”

“Of course she is, look at her.” Azriel mocked, sucking a large hickey onto the column of his throat before he pushed him back roughly. Eris landed beside you, his hair splaying out beautifully as the Illyrian roughly picked you up and had you bending over the edge of the bed. “Suck his cock, mouse. Make him cry for you.”

You did not need to be told twice, your mouth hungrily kissing his inner thighs and trailing up to his dripping member. It was thick and long, the tip red and begging for you to pay it attention. He let out a small groan as you kissed and licked the head of him, swirling your tongue round and round before a sharp smack landed on your ass.

“I said to suck his cock not tease him, little whore.” Azriel ordered, letting another spank hit your clit this time which made you moan. You nodded, eyes focusing on Eris as you took him all the way to his pubic hair. It tickled your nose as you watched the redhead lurch forward, his hands immediately flying to your head to hold you still as he rutted upwards.

“Stars above, that feels amazing,” He moaned, looking over you to Azriel who was stroking himself to the sight. You began to choke and only then did he finally let you go, his thumb reaching out to wipe away the mascara that was now smeared under your eyes. “Again.”

He gave you no time to prepare as he roughly shoved himself down your throat once more, his mouth hanging open in ecstasy as you did your best to breathe through your nose. You cupped his balls in your hand, rolling them around, which only spurred Eris on further. 

“Who knew you were such a good cocksucker, Y/N?” Azriel chimed from behind you, stepping forward to rub his hard cock through your folds. Each time he bumped against your clit it made you lurch back, trying to get him to enter you. “Maybe that should be your new title, hm? Just for us.”

“Only for us.” Eris echoed. “Fuck I’m going to cum.”

“Paint her face. Mark her in your cum.” Azriel growled, savoring the way you were both lost in your own pleasure as Eris suddenly pulled out of your mouth to spurt onto your face. You closed your eyes and took it, loving the way they were being so filthy with you before you moaned when you felt Azriel enter you from behind. 

“So fucking tight,” He gritted out as he fucked you wildly like a beast taking his bitch. Your whole body was jerking forward and all you could do was look at Eris, your eyes heavy-lidded as he swiped some of his cum off your face and held it out for you to taste.

You sucked his finger in greedily, enjoying the salty taste of him as he smirked back at how corrupted you had become. However, as soon as Az hit that spot deep inside you, you let go of his digit to let out a loud, whorish groan. 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop!” You cried out, looking back to watch him pound into you from behind. With every brush over that spot, you felt your orgasm building once more, your walls clenching tightly around him which made him hiss through his teeth.

“You wanna cum on his cock, pet? Do you deserve it?” Eris teased, placing two fingers under your chin to force you to look at him. “Do you think you deserve to cum on his cock?”

“Yes, mmm, I do,” You pant, moaning into his mouth when he kisses you sloppily. He tasted of warm spices and Azriel, the combination intoxicating as your tongues swirled together. It made your already wet cunt wetter. “I’ve been good.”

Azriel grabbed your hips harshly, making sure to leave bruises on them as he felt his orgasm racing up his spine. His balls started to tighten and he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted as he spilled into you, your orgasm following swiftly behind as you came and came and came.

Your entire body shook with the force of it as you all but collapsed onto Eris’s thighs, your ass still up in the air as Azriel continued to thrust shallowly into you. He grinned as some of his cum leaked out the side of your union, watching it fall onto the bed. 

“You made such a mess, little mouse,” Azriel noted as he reluctantly pulled out, scooping his oozing cum and shoving it back inside your sensitive hole. You whined, trying to move away but Eris forced you to stay still as the Spymaster continued to toy with your sex. “And you came without permission.”

“I-what? But you-” You mumbled, lifting your head to turn and gaze at him. “Eris said…”

“I only asked the question, pet. I never permitted you.” He said sweetly, brushing the hair out of your eyes as you swallowed in fear. “You should know better.”

“It’s alright, prince.” Azriel smiled, flipping you over forcefully before appearing over you. “We have plenty of time to teach her how to behave.”

The last thing you saw was Azriel’s hazel eyes before his shadows circled your head, blinding you as Eris chuckled into the night air. You sucked in a breath when you felt those fiery bonds return once more, locking you to the bed as they both set to work on your punishment.

[neerons]

Some of Leon Dompteur's best quotes

"Leon Dompteur. My favorite food is meat and alcohol. Hmm? Alcohol isn't food? Haha, that's true."

"You can imagine I'm some fictional character you like if that works better."

"Never mind the roses—it feels like I'm the one wilting without you in my arms. What then? What if I shrivel up and die while you're gone?"

"(...) Well, I'd rather be liked by you than a bunch of random women."

"Do you want to sleep with me tonight? Hey, I just meant sleeping! What were you thinking?"

"I swear, you're the bravest woman I've ever met. (...) I promise, we'll bring you home. That's the one thing I'm not backing down on. And... Don't do anything reckless." (—Leon telling Emma he'll save her along with his brothers from Obsidian)

"If you're struggling, it's okay to show me. I'm not gonna think less of you for it. So don't force yourself to smile."

"No running, no hiding, no looking away. If you need to cry, look at me and cry."

"When I opened my eyes again, I gazed at the woman before me in awe. She was so stunning that I regretted closing my eyes and even blinking." (—Leon's thoughts)

"I've always wanted to see you in a dress that I picked out... then strip you."

"(...) I'll come duel with you as soon as I'm done here." (—Leon keeping his promise to Licht)

"Good girl."

"But... I've wanted this for so long. I've wanted you... for so long."

"A special skill of mine, huh...? Oh, there's one I can think of right away. I bet I could beat anyone at competitive eating."

"I don't blame him for being charmed, though. She's just that amazing. Emma, you have no idea how much your presence means to me." (—Leon's thoughts about Jin and Emma)

"Good work. Even if no one else is watching you work hard, I will. Okay?"

"You must have taken quite a liking to her to go warning her like that. It was nice of you." (—Leon talking about Emma to Chevalier)

"Why don't I save everyone a lot of trouble and cut the lot of you down right now?" (—Leon to drunken men)

"Ever since I met you... the me I thought I'd killed... the me I thought was gone... he can't stop shouting to the heavens how happy he is."

"Owwww! What the hell? (...) you could at least wake me up some other way." (—Leon being woken up by Chevalier)

"I think it's actually kind of cute. It's meant to look like a rabbit, right?" (—Leon talking about Clavis' food to Clavis, Emma and Nokto)

"I can finally tell you what I've always wanted to tell you. Emma... I love you."

"What matters is that you haven't become a victim for the kingdom. Just knowing that is enough to reassure me. (...) She knew none of you would welcome her, yet she came here as the emperor's representative, to find peace for us all. Is there any of you with more resolve than that?" (—Leon defending Emma during an official meeting)

"Accepting who you are, and being able to open your heart to the people you love—that's what makes us strong."

"(...) I want to flirt with you. Please?"

"I can't be the only one left with a one-track mind. I need you to be as crazy for me as I am for you." (—Leon's thoughts)

"Sorry, I know I sound like a broken record, but you look so fine in that beautiful dress. I wish I had a picture of you to frame."

"She's the silver lining in my clouds, my sun who makes my future bright. When I think about her, I'm filled with the courage to face whatever may come my way. She's truly an amazing woman and the light of my life." (—Leon talking about Emma)

"Maybe instead of the one doing the savoring, you'd prefer to be savored?"

"I adore you. Even if I were to make the entire world my enemy, I'll never let go of you."

"I want to melt you with my touch until you're left crying my name into the night." (—Leon's thoughts)

"I want you to be at my side just as you are, I want you to be my queen just as you are."

"There's only one thing that I can think of that would help stop me being so reckless. (...) Mmm... I don't know, it seems a bit too easy to just go ahead and tell you. Why don't you guess? (...) And every time you get it wrong, I get to kiss or touch you. How does that sound? (...) Can you even think coherently when you're this wet and needy?"

"Honestly, you can call for me even if nothing happens. I don't mind. I'd still gladly come running."

"Every time we touch, every time we kiss, every time we say we love each other, my feelings for you grow stronger."

"If we continue, you're going to see me possibly the horniest I've ever been in my life."

"Sorry, kid, but you were born way too late. Plus, she's already spoken for. But at least he has good taste." (—Leon's thoughts about a boy asking Emma to marry him)

"You're so beautiful that I don't know what to do with myself."

"I'm so harsh on you first thing in the morning, aren't I? (...) I ate my fill, but now I already want you again."

[seresinsbabe]

Drunk Words Are Sober Thoughts

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x f!reader

Synopsis: You're just trying to enjoy a quiet night at home when a less than sober pilot is dropped off at your doorstep. And he's spilling all his sober thoughts in drunk words.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Alcohol, swearing, fluff, drunk jake. Nothing else I can think of. A/N: This is not my first fic, but it is my first fic on here. If this one doesn't flop there will definitely be more! Otherwise I will just retreat into the reader shadows xD

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“And those…god those eyes…” Hangman slurred slightly, a combination of his Texas upbringing and the whiskey in his system.

“Okay! We fucking get it Seresin!” Rooster groaned out in frustration. Frustration that Jake Seresin didn’t seem to notice in his drunken state even with Bradley’s use of his last name. It was supposed to have been guys' night out and to Jake’s defense it had started that way. Only the more liquor he consumed the more his thoughts were consumed by you. And thus had led to Rooster’s frustration when all Jake could talk about was you.

You were the only woman he’d ever gone after that had turned him down for reasons other than having a man. The only one that hadn’t fallen for his southern drawl and charming smile. Jake wasn’t used to that, but he also wasn’t used to the way it made him want you. Relationships had never been his forte. Sure, he’d had one or two, but mostly in high school and college. Nothing serious since he’d joined the navy. But you? The sweet middle school teacher with your perfect smile, curves in all the right places and sweet voice that could make the devil give up his sinful ways? All Jake Seresin could think about was making you his and only his.

Bradley knew from Phoenix that you were more into Jake than you were willing to let the man know. He knew you’d had your heart broken by one too many military men and that you were damned if you were going to let a silver tongued devil with pretty green eyes break it all over again. Normally Brad would have agreed, he would have supported you in your decision to keep Hangman at an arm's length. At first he had, then it became apparent that Hangman didn’t look at you the way he looked at all the other women. In all the years he’d known the Texan playboy he’d never seen him like this over someone. 

So by the first hour of Jake drunkenly babbling about how perfect you were he formulated a plan.

It was a typical Thursday night for you. Work had been long and you’d already decided that morning that tonight would be a self care night. Which for you included binge watching New Girl with a stuffed crust pizza and a bottle of wine.

You were giggling uncontrollably as you watched Nick and Schmidt argue over a towel when the first thunk came. It was loud and scared both you and your cat that was curled up in your lap. The time on your phone read 10:41, way too late for anyone to be coming over unannounced. You felt your heart rate increase and as another thunk sounded out you stood up, grabbing the baseball bat you kept stashed by your door for emergencies. Holding the bat in your right hand, up high and ready to swing, with your left you reached out and unlocked the door. Only when you opened it did you realize it wasn’t an intruder at all. 

“Jake?” The sandy haired pilot stood at your door and you could smell the whiskey on his breath from here. 

He grinned lazily at you and damn if it didn’t make you swoon just the littlest bit. Why was his drunk ass here, though? You knew it had been guys' night, but never before had any of the guys been dumped at your doorstep while drunk. 

 “Hi sweets,” he lurched forward, losing his stability against your door frame and you reached out, catching him. 

“Jesus! How did you get here?” Your eyes searched outside and you didn’t see his truck, but surely he hadn’t walked here. That would have been one hell of a walk from the Hard Deck to your little bungalow. 

“Cock-a- cock-a-doodle whooo,” you let out a soft giggle at his attempt to crow. You took that as he meant Rooster had been the one to declare you babysitter. You made a mental note to rip Rooster a new one come morning.

Jake stumbled a bit more and you grunted as you tried to keep the man up. He was much larger than you, taller by at least six inches and definitely carried more mass. “Okay, okay,” you huffed as you slung his arm around your shoulder. “Let’s get you into bed.” It was a struggle but eventually you got him to your guest bedroom. You helped him collapse on the bed and then left in search of water and ibuprofen. Lucky for Jake you still had some packets of pedialyte powder in your pantry from the last time Nix needed a GNO. 

When you got back to the room Jake had somehow managed to strip down to his boxers. You were thankful that his eyes were closed because had they not been he definitely would have caught you admiring him. It was like he’d been carved out of marble by Gods. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen him shirtless, but it was the first time you’d seen him in nothing but boxers in your house. 

“Sweets,” the Texan drawled out, calling for you. He’d always called you that, from the day he met you, it had never really had much of an affect on you before. Hearing it with that drunken tone of desperation made it hit differently. Your feet carried you over to him and before you had time to react he’d reached out, pulling you to him by the oversized t-shirt you had on. 

You let out a surprised squeak as he wrapped his arms around you. The bottle of pedialyte mixture and ibuprofen is still in your hands as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. A familiar heat pools in your cheek and tints them pink. “Jake, come on you’re drunk. You need to drink this and take some medicine.” This was probably the nicest you’d ever talked to Jake. Though every other conversation you’d had revolved around you rejecting him to protect your own heart from his philandering ways. 

Jake harrumphed when he felt you trying to pry yourself out of his arms and just tightened his grip on you. It would be a lie to tell yourself it didn’t feel nice, that you couldn’t get used to being held by him, but Jake wasn’t that kind of guy and you knew that. “Mm want you,” he murmured into your neck.

“Jake, I am not going to hook up with you,” you rolled your eyes so hard he could probably hear it. “Especially not when you’re drunk.” You tried to push yourself out of his arms again, but again his arms tightened around you.

“No sweets, wanna make you mine.” You froze, the pills and water bottle slipping out of your hand. “Wanna be with you, my girl.” He slurred softly into your neck. “So pretty…perfect…be a good mama to our babies.” If you were a cartoon you were sure your heart would burst out of your chest with as hard as it was beating right now. There was no way Jake Seresin was drunkenly telling you he wanted to make a family with you. This had to be just the liquor talking. You wanted to get away, to go have this mini panic attack by yourself, but every time you tried his hold on you just tightened. So you waited it out and once he was in a deep enough sleep you slipped out of his arms. 

With two fingers on each hand you rubbed your temples and paced in your living room. Your mind was spinning so fast that you just had to convince yourself that it was all the liquor. Jake Seresin didn’t date and he definitely didn’t marry women, least of all you. So far you've been able to keep yourself from falling for his charm by telling yourself that all you are to him is another conquest. Another notch on his long belt. What he’d just said had meant nothing and come the morning he’d be back to his despicable self. 

After chugging the rest of the wine in your glass you locked back up. Your self care night had effectively been ruined and it seemed like the best thing to do now was go to bed. Before you settled down in your bed you made sure to send Rooster a not so nice text. To which he just responded with a sequence of mocking emojis.

Jake was still asleep when you woke up the next morning. You just hoped he didn’t sleep the whole day away. It would be much harder to get what he said last night out of your head if he was in your house all day long. Maybe it would be best if you just left to avoid any and all awkward contact. You had some errands to run that day anyway.

“Sweets?” You winced as you heard his voice, thick with sleep in a way that had your stomach flipping. “Not that I’m upset I woke up at your place, but how did I get here?” Finally you turned from where you stood in front of the stove, bacon frying up in a pan. How the hell did he look this good hungover?

“Rooster dropped you off,” you hummed in a slightly irritated tone as you pushed water and pills over to him. “Not sure why I was the one chosen to take care of your drunk ass and listen to you admit fake feelings for me.” You mused, turning back towards the food cooking on the stove. 

You expected Jake to chuckle and make some comment about how his lines hadn’t worked on you yet again, but that one day they would. He was sober now and sober Jake was far different than drunk Jake. 

“Sweets,” there was a tone in his voice. A tone that you couldn’t quite place but it wasn’t his normal arrogant one. “What did I say to you last night?” You squeezed your eyes shut tightly. This was the last kind of conversation you wanted to have. It was one thing for you to decide in your own head that Jake wanted you for nothing more than your body, but it would be an entirely different thing for you to hear it out of his own mouth. It would solidify that you were just a conquest for him, that you were like every other woman he chased.

You shrugged, trying to continue acting like it was really no big deal. “Nothing I took to heart, just told me you wanted to make me your girl and that I’d make a good mama to our babies.” Saying the words out loud made your stomach fill with butterflies. “You were drunk though, I’m sure it was just the whiskey talking.”

A thick silence hung in the air as you plated the food for him. You’d made enough in case he woke up. With as nice as his physique was you weren’t even sure he ate greasy breakfast like this, but you know they always made you feel better after a night out. With as quiet as everything was right now you didn’t have much of an appetite. Again you had expected him to laugh it off but he didn’t. Instead he looked at you with these sweet eyes. Looking both like your brush off of his admittal had hurt him and made him realize he wasn’t trying hard enough. 

Jake swallowed hard and you watched his Adam’s apple bob. “It wasn’t the whiskey talking sweets.” Your hand froze mid air, a piece of perfectly cooked bacon between your fingers. 

“Jake you don’t date. You wham, bam, thank you ma’am.” You swallowed just as hard as he had a second ago.

“Those women weren’t you, Y/N.” He used your actual name and you felt your heart skip a beat. Jake never called you by your real name. Hell, he called you sweets so much you sometimes wondered if he had forgotten your actual name. In a few strides he’d moved around to the side of the kitchen island you were on. His hand came up and with his index finger he tilted your head up to look at him. “I don’t remember saying it to you last night, but just know I meant every word.” His tone was so sincere, how could you not believe him? But how could you at the same time?

You turned away from him, trying to settle your mind and your heart at the same time. There was no way this was happening. Thank god you had the day off work, because you would need it to recover from whatever the fuck was happening right now. 

“Hey, look at me sweets,” his hands landed on your hips, turning you to fully face him. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.” Resistance felt futile at this point, but you were still trying hard to resist. 

“Jake, you can’t be serious?” The aviator cocked an eyebrow at you, coaxing you to continue. “You could have your pick of available women out here and you want me?” 

He started to laugh and you felt sick to your stomach. You knew it was too good to be true, Jake didn’t want you in that way. The notion wasn’t as comforting as you thought it would have been and you wished he would stop laughing at the whole thing. 

Jake finally took notice of the pained look on your face and his laughter was cut short. One of his arms snaked around your waist and the other hand came up to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Sweets, you don’t see yourself properly and I promise if you give me a chance I will spend the rest of my life showing you just how fuckin’ special you are.” You searched his eyes, looking for any hint that this was all fake. Though, you hadn’t found one yet so you weren’t sure why you thought you’d find one now. 

On its own accord your head started to nod up and down. It took your brain a moment to catch up and by the time it did you knew you couldn’t take it back. Jake looked like it was Christmas morning and he got the bike he’d been begging for all year long. He looked so happy, there was no way you could take this away from him. 

“I’ll give you a chance, but Jake Seresin I swear the second you hurt me even a little it’s over.” You wouldn’t let another pretty boy military man break your heart again. Not after how bad the last one had been.

Jake’s grin only grew and he lifted you up, spinning you around in the kitchen. The action made you giggle and the pilot had to fight to keep himself from getting down on one knee.

“Don’t worry sweets, I got lots of plans for us.” He hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead and you felt like you could melt right then and there.

[number1mingyustan]

She's Kinda Hot Tho ☾

Warnings: cursing, explicit smut, unprotected sex, age gap (reader is 30 and chan is 20) mommy kink, switch!dino, switch!reader, nipple play, tittyfucking, mentions of oral (f. + m.), multiple orgasms, mentions of porn, reader is described to have big boobs, he's so pussy drunk

Summary: The woman of his dreams is right across the way and he's got to have a taste

Word Count: 2.7k

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Chan had lost interest in girls his age a long time ago. Look through his search history of hours and hours of 'MILF porn' and anyone could see that he loved his older women.

He himself can't really explain his infatuation, he just knows he loves them. He's gotten lucky a few times too, successfully catching the eye of an older woman and scoring a chance to spend the night.

But oh, his life grew 10x better when he moved right across from you.

It was his sophomore year of college and he was now able to live off campus. He and three of his friends found an apartment near campus and they happened to move in across the hall from you.

The first time he ever laid eyes on you, you were standing outside your door. You were looking down, mail in hand and dripping in sweat. You were in nothing but a sports bra and a pair of leggings. Must've just finished one of those soul cycle or pilates classes.

Safe to say he popped a boner almost instantly and had to rush into his apartment unnoticed. Holy shit you were the sexiest woman he'd ever laid eyes on. The leggings hugged your body perfectly and that sports bra was doing a poor job of covering your tits.

It was an image that would surely remain etched in his mind forever.

____

After that day it felt like he saw more of you, and it was extremely hard to ignore your presence. It seemed like every time he was outside of his apartment, you were too.

He finally met you formally in the elevator one day. You were both going up from the lobby. He'd gotten in first, and you burst through the doors yelling 'wait!' just as they were closing.

He reached his hand out, preventing the door from closing so you could come in.

Safe to say there were all kinds of 'stuck in the elevator' fantasies he was playing out in his head with you that left him caged in the corner of the box trying to cover up the way his pants started to grow tighter. He kept his distance, but his mind and his eyes seemed to be doing the opposite.

It was a short ride up, but to him it felt like forever. It was awkwardly silent until you decided to speak up.

"You live across the way right?" You asked.

"Huh?" Your sudden conversation takes him out of his little daze.

"I'm in 408 and I've seen you around, right across from me, right?" You asked, turning and looking at him.

"Oh yeah... think I've seen you around too. I'm still kind of new to the building. Couple friends and I are living here because it's close to campus," he replied.

"Hmm... guess that makes us neighbors." You grinned. "Y/n." You stated. "And you are?"

"Oh um uh... Chan. My friends call me Dino," he introduced himself.

You smiled. "Well what do you want me to call you?"

Oh fuck. It's such an innocent question, but he's so dirty minded and turned on that it leaves his mind racing.

"Oh um.. Dino-Dino's good," he cleared his throat.

The door finally opened and he felt like he's not suffocating anymore. You didn't even get to say a proper 'goodbye' before he rushed out of the elevator and darted toward his apartment.

______

About a week later, you showed up at his door. To say the least, he wasn't expecting company when he showed up at the door shirtless with grey sweats hanging low off his hips. His blonde hair is messy on his head as he leans against the door frame.

"Oh um... hi," he clears his throat.

"I'm so glad you're here," you smile. "I didn't know if I was going to catch you or one of your roommates, but I need help with something."

"I can help," he offers. "What do you need me for?"

You give him a shy smile, looking him up and down. "Um, we'll have to go outside so...."

He looks down at himself, remembering that he's not wearing a shirt. "Oh my bad," he apologizes nervously. He closes the door to his apartment, leaving you alone momentarily. The door opens again and he stands there, properly dressed.

You lead him into your apartment. He enters your living space with a million thoughts running through his mind. He's actually here in your apartment and damn, it's nice.

The way you've decorated your home is extremely different from the hellhole he lives in. In all fairness, he's a guy living with 3 other twenty year olds.

"Excuse the mess," you say.

His eyes scan the apartment. Mess? Clearly you haven't seen a real mess. Just about everything seems to be in order. He fears how you would react if you stepped foot in his home. The only thing he can see out of place is a few boxes and.... oh.

Your underwear is lying on the middle of the living room floor. Granted, the laundry basket is right next to it, but he can clearly see the lacy black material from where he stands. There's no way you did that on purpose... right? Your apartment is far too clean for you to carelessly leave a pair of panties in the middle of the living room.

He's mentally cursing and yelling at himself not the let his mind wander. But he can't help himself. He's already picturing it, you in the thing and revealing fabric.

"Yeah so I'm moving some stuff into storage... but the boxes are kind of heavy so I was hoping you could help me carry them to my car," you snap him out of his little daze.

"S-Sure no problem," he says.

He's quick to pick up one of the boxes, attempting to cover his semi hard-on. Although the box he lifts is surprisingly light. Nonetheless, he follows behind you as you lead him to your car outside.

It takes three trips to transport all the boxes. All of the boxes ended up being a much easier carry than he expected. He loads the last one into the trunk of your car before closing it.

"All done," he smiles at you.

"Thank you," you brush your hand against his shoulder. It's an innocent touch really, but it makes his heart rate skyrocket.

"N-No problem really," he stutters out.

The two of you make your way back inside the apartment building. The entire time you actually have pleasant conversation with one another. He finds out that you moved here about a year and a half ago after a nasty divorce.

You didn't have any kids of your own, but when you were with your ex husband, he already had a kid that you basically raised as your own. You keep talking about other things, but he somewhat tunes it out, only really thinking about the fact that you are very attractive and now confirmed to also be very single.

You ride the elevator up to the third floor together once again. He walks you back to your apartment and you think him again.

"You want something to drink? It's the least I can do for your help...."

He hesitates. Are you.... flirting with him? Those boxes weren't that heavy, and he's not just thinking that to fuel his own ego. You could've done it on your own, easily and now you're inviting him back into your apartment.

He can't tell if he's being crazy and overthinking.

"Sure."

______________

"Oh fuck," he moans as you sink down onto his cock.

He wasn't being crazy, not at all. The moment he stepped back into your apartment, you pinned him against the wall and kissed him. You pushed him down to his knees so he could eat you out... twice. And now he's on your bed naked and you're about to ride him.

You tilt your head back, letting out a breathy moan as he fills you up. He stretch of his cock feels so good inside of you. You're already starting to feel the effects of overstimulation from him the two orgasms he gave you in his tongue earlier.

"Shit-oh shit," he moans once he's buried fully inside of you. His body falls limp against the bed and he allows you to completely take over.

You start moving your hips, tits bouncing in his face. He can't take his attention off of them, feeling himself grow more and more turned on with each passing moment.

Each roll of your hips feels so good and you're relentless with your pace. Your pussy squeezes around him incredibly. It feels so good, too good. He can already feel himself losing it.

And he does. He lifts you up off his cock, stroking his length until he cums on your inner thigh. He lets out a long groan as he covers your skin with his cum.

"Did you just...?" you start to ask.

He'd be embarrassed if he wasn't already getting hard again. He simply nods before lifting you back up and aligning his cock with your entrance.

"Yeah... just keep going..." he groans.

You're stunned, but nonetheless you sink back down onto his cock. He meets you halfway this time, thrusting his hips in sync with yours. His cock drills deeper inside of you, tip pushing against that one spot inside of you that drives you crazy.

Neither of you are quiet, moaning and groaning with pleasure nonstop.

You push him down on the bed, riding him like a toy. You treat him like your personal dildo, riding his cock like you own it. Your tits continue to bounce in his face, making him nearly go cross-eyed.

He reaches his hands up to touch, but you swat them away,. "No touching."

He lets out a frustrated groan, sinking his head deeper into the pillow. He wants you so bad, all of you. He needs to touch you. He can't help himself. He just wants to feel your tits, maybe slip one of them into his mouth and suck on one of them.

He tries again, reaching his arms up to grab your soft tits. But again, you grab his hands. "I said no touching."

"Fuck... please. Just let me feel 'em," he moans.

You ignore him, tightening your grip on his hands. His eyes roll back into his head and he lets out a shaky breath.

"M-Mommy please..." he moans.

The sudden name shocks you and you let out a gasp. Hearing it sends a wave through your body. You weren't expecting it in the slightest, but it's absolutely turning you on. However, he's too caught up in pleasure to fully process what he just said. He just lies there, basically whimpering with his eyes trained on your tits.

You start moving your hips faster. "Fuck, say it again."

"W-What?"

"Say it again and I'll let you touch me," you pant.

"Fuck... let me touch you mommy. So fucking hot..." he moans. "Please mommy,"

You're already getting close again. You move his hands, placing them on your tits and upholding your promise. His eyes roll back into his head once he finally cops a feel. He sits up, pushing his face closer to your tits.

"G-Gonna cum soon," you warn him.

He latches his mouth onto one of your tits, tongue circling your nipple as he sucks on your soft flesh. You don't stop the rocking of your hips, even when your orgasm approaches.

You moan loudly, calling his name like a chant as you experience your high. He follows not long after, lifting you off his lap again and allowing his cum to spill on the outside of your pussy.

He licks his lips as he watches your swollen folds get painted white. You both sit there breathlessly, dripping in sweat and cum. You need a moment to catch your breath and fully come down. Your folds are already swollen and sensitive and you're ready to lie down.

But it's not over.

He moves quickly, lifting off his lap and pinning you on the bed beneath him. He spits on his cock before pushing it back into you.

You're not sure how he still has the energy and stamina for this. Surely his cock is overly sensitive now. You're already overstimulated from your third orgasm, and you were sure he was done for.

He pins your hands above your head as he ruts his hips inside of you. His thrusts are sloppy, but his cock is drilling into you perfectly. He's rough and needy, oozing desperation with every thrust of his hips.

Your tits continue to bounce as he fucks you, once again capturing his attention.

He can feel himself getting close again, dangerously close. If he doesn't stop now, he'll cum inside of you. But fuck, it feels so good he doesn't know if he can stop.

"S-Shit," he moans. "Gotta fuck those tits."

He finds it in himself to pull out. You both hiss at the sudden loss of contact, but he acts quickly.

He pushes his cock between the swell of your breasts. His cock slips between your tits easily considering your arousal is still coating his length.

You push your tits together, making the crevice tighter and it sends him into overdrive. He's fucking your tits recklessly, hips stuttering and moving like a bitch in heat.

"Cumming- ah fuck! Mommy I'm cumming!" he cries out.

He keeps moving his hips, thrusting his cock along the sweaty softness of your skin. He finally loses it altogether, rolling his eyes into the back of his head as he shoots his cum onto your tits. Some of it goes onto your face, most of it dripping down along your nipples.

He feels dizzy, collapsing onto the bed next to you.

"What the fuck," he breathes out.

What the hell have you done to him? He's never experienced something like that before. Yeah he's been with older women before, but calling them mommy? He's not even sure where it came from, you just sort of brought it out of him.

He's never had sex as intense as that, but all he knows is that he wants to do it again. One time and he already knows you've ruined him.

You simply giggle breathlessly, raking your fingers through his damp hair. Once you both fully come down, you shower together and he ends up spending the night.

You watch movies together until you both fall asleep. The next morning he wakes up hard and after a blowjob and three more rounds, he finally goes back to his apartment.

_______

"He did it," Soonyoung suddenly announces.

"Seriously?" Minghao's head appears over the couch as he turns around.

"No way," Jun echoes.

"I'm so serious, he actually did it," Soonyoung deadpans.

"How do you know?" Jun asks.

"I saw him go into her apartment yesterday when I was leaving and he hasn't been back yet... he definitely did it," Soonyoung explains and plops down on the couch.

"Oh shit... he's still over there?" Minghao asks.

"Pretty sure... he'll probably walk back over here any minute with that stupid grin," Soonyoung says.

Almost on cue, the doorknob twists and Dino walks into his shared apartment. He's trying so hard not to smile and make it obvious that he just had the best night (and morning) of his life, but he can't help but let a small grin escape from his pursed lips. All three of his roommates are staring at him from behind the couch.

He stands there like a deer in headlights as his roommates all stare him down.

"So where have you been?" Minghao asks with a smirk.

"Out," Dino says shortly, trying to avoid conversation.

"All night? It's nearly noon, that's a long time," Soonyoung asks.

"I wasn't gone that long... I left this morning when you guys were all asleep," Dino lies.

"That's so odd because... I saw you leave yesterday. It was still evening then," Soonyoung raises an eyebrow.

"That's weird because... you weren't home yesterday evening. I was the only one here," Dino states.

"I forgot my wallet when I left to go to work, and when I was on my way back I'm pretty sure I saw you leaving the apartment... wearing those exact sweatpants too," Soonyoung grins. "Jun he was wearing those sweatpants when you left too... right?"

"Oh yeah... now that I think about it, he was," Jun grins.

Knowing he's been caught, Dino simply gives up on defending himself. "Screw all of you!"

"Dude you fucked the hot neighbor, and older woman might I remind you? Did you think we weren't going to find out eventually," Soonyoung points out.

"Whatever," Dino says with a grin.

"You're really not gonna tell us how it went?" Minghao teases.

"Nope," Dino says and starts walking toward his room. "All you need to know is that she made me breakfast this morning and said she wants to see me again"

"Damn dude," Jun breathes out.

"See you fuckers later," he says as he makes his exit.

He enters his room, closing his door behind him and pulling out his phone. The first thing he does is text you.

'so when can i see u again?'

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© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[jqmalikhsgib]

train wreck

one

you look at yourself in the mirror. you couldn’t believe you let it get this far. you knew you should have left the moment he laid a hand on you the first time.

you’d been blinded by love. every single time he told you he wouldn’t do it again, you believed him. every.last.word!

you told yourself it was your fault. maybe if you were a better cook, maybe if you ironed his shirt correctly, maybe if you didn’t embarrass him in front of his friends, maybe if you’d been a better wife. he wouldn’t hurt you the way he did. it had to be your fault, right?

he was the perfect man. the kind of man your parents wanted you to marry. he’s rich, successful, and smart. he was everything you looked for in a man, according to your mom that is.

at first he was the perfect man. he treated you like a princess. you were his princess. he was the kind of man that made you believe fairytales could be real.

but after two years of dating, the abuse happened. it started out small. something as simple as calling you stupid. verbal abuse.

but as time went on, his hands became his weapon of choice. when he proposed, that’s when you thought maybe the abuse would stop.

but this only made it worse. he thought of you as his property. he knew you’d never go to the police. you’d never tell a soul what he’d been doing.

four years go by. four years of covering up black eyes, four years of hiding bruises, four years of coming up with excuses as to what really happened to your arm.

and right now, as you look at the positive pregnancy test, you knew you had to leave! you couldn’t bring a child into this kind of environment.

you swallowed your pride and dialed a number you’d never thought you had to dial again, a number you tried to forget.

“prentiss.”

emily rushes to the front desk of the hospital immediately asking for your name. when she got the room number she hurried to you.

her eyes widened when she saw your face. she barely recognized you.

it had been some time since emily saw you. the last time she saw you was a week before your wedding. she noticed the signs right away. she tried to convince you that you didn’t have to marry james. you could report him and get him arrested for the bruises on your wrist you tried to hide.

james found out about your conversation and didn’t take a liking to it. he hit you mercilessly before you uninvited emily to your wedding. emily hoped that you’d leave before things get any worse. before james would kill you.

and now, as she sees your face busted, arms covered in bruises, your skinny frame, she couldn’t help but blame herself. she should have pushed you harder into leaving.

emily couldn’t believe the girl woman she babysat all those years ago grew up in an loveless, abusive, marriage.

“god, yn!”

you looked up and start to shed tears. seeing emily again made you feel whole. she’d been the only real family you had. you knew your parents wouldn’t help you. they’d tell you to tough it out, be a better wife, do better for james. emily was the only person you knew that would drop anything and everything for you. she’d been the only person that was willing to save you from years of torture.

emily examines your face. she sighs before the nurse comes in.

“misses harper?”

“please, it’s yln.” you whispered.

the nurse gives her a sad smile. nodding understandably. she’s seen plenty of women come in and out of this hospital with marks and bruises all over their bodies from domestic abuse. she knew the signs of the women who would leave it all behind and the signs of the women who would go back.

“the doctor should be with you shortly. i just wanted to make sure you know your options beforehand.” she hands you a few pamphlets. you try your best to grab the quickly. emily beats you to it and sighs.

“thank you nurse.” emily smiles as the nurse nods her head and leaves them to talk.

“you sure you’re pregnant?”

“i missed my period the past two months. i took a few test before coming here. im pretty sure.” you gulp. “i don’t know what to do em. i—im sorry for calling you and bringing you into my mess of a life. i just—”

“stop! you can call me any time, yn. i just hate that it got this far. i hate that you went through this alone.”

when the doctor arrives you lie back and lift your shirt. she pours some gel on your belly before rolling around the wand. you grab emily’s hand. you wait patiently before the doctor shows you a little black dot.

“theirs your baby! would you like to hear the heartbeat?”

“i—i don’t know. i don’t know what i want exactly. i don’t know if i even want to—god, i don’t know if i can do this.” you shed more tears. you’ve cried so much in the last four days. in the last six years.

“doctor, may you give us a moment?”

the doctor nods understandably before leaving. emily looks you in the eyes. “hey, tell me what’s going on?”

“i don’t know if i can do this emily. i wanna be a mom. ive always wanted to be a mom. but how do i bring a child in this world knowing their father— emily, im alone here. im alone. i can’t do this alone.”

“you won’t, yn! rather you want to keep the baby or not, you won’t be alone. you got me, alright? i can help you anyway you need me to. you’re family, remember? remember what i told you when you were younger?”

you give her a small smile. “no matter what, you’re like my sister. my only family. you got my back and i got yours.”

emily nods. “so, for once in your life after having your whole life being decided for you, what do you want?”

you wipe the tears out of your swollen eye gently. “i wanna keep him. i wanna keep my baby.”

emily nods. “ill call a few of the guys i work with. we can go to your house and pick up your things. hopefully he won’t be there.”

you simply nod your head. “are you sure i can stay with you? i don’t wanna be a bother.”

emily shakes her head. “no! you’re never a bother, alright. you can never be a bother yn.”

you nod your head. when the doctor comes back in, you tell her you wanted to hear the heartbeat. when you do, you fall in love. after she carefully lets you know what’s next, appointment, what kind of vitamins to take, what you should avoid eating and drinking, you and emily head out to her hotel room.

emily lies out clothes for you to put on. you thank her before heading to the shower. you tried to clean your body as best as you could. trying to wipe james off of you.

you felt like you could finally relax. for the past few days you’ve been looking over your shoulders. you’ve been waiting for james to find you. you knew if he did he’d kill you.

you had even threw your phone in the river. you’ve been trying to keep a low profile until you knew emily was on her way. when she told you she was an hour away you finally went to the hospital. it wasn’t just you that you had to look after any longer. you had a kid to think about. a human growing inside of you.

you had to get to the hospital to make sure they were alright. you think about the stress you’ve endured the last few days. replaying in your head over and over again. finally feeling free and safe.

when you get out of the shower, emily wraps her arms around you. she kisses the top of your forehead. “get some sleep.”

and for the first time in a long time, you finally slept peacefully.

the next morning you hear whispers. your eyes flutter before you suddenly lift yourself up. you sigh in relief when you realized you were still in the hotel.

“hey! it’s alright. did we wake you?”

you turned and frowned. you saw two men standing by the desk.

one of the men was more lanky than the other. his hair fell a little on his shoulders. he looked like he was around your age.

the other was older. he was more muscular. his head was clean shaven. he had a goatee. the both stood tall.

“no. it’s fine.” you shake your head.

“sorry! they flew in last night. they’re here to help get your things. make sure that james doesn’t harm you if he’s there.”

you simply nod your head.

“thank you.”

“don’t thank us, sweetheart! any family of emily’s is ours as well.” he gives you a winning smile.

“this is derek and that’s spencer. dave and hotch are outside as well. hotch actually wants to ask you a few questions.” emily states.

you give her a questionable look. “if you’re up for it. we don’t wanna rush you or anything. but, james should pay for this, yn.”

you simply shake your head. “trust me em, he won’t! james he’s—he has connections. he’d get away with it.”

“maybe not, yn. don’t you wanna at least try?”

“what i want is to get far away from him as possible. please, em? i don’t wanna go through any of this. i don’t wanna go through this train wreck any longer.”

emily nods her head.

“lets just focus on getting your things, yeah?” spencer gives you a sad smile. you nod your head. emily helps you up.

the four of you head outside. you walk to a black suv. you see two older men.

“this is dave and that’s my boss, hotch.”

you nod. thankful you had your sunglasses on. you didn’t need anyone else seeing how bad your face looked. emily helps you get in the back of the car. she sits beside you as she grabs your hand. you squeezed it gently. you look up to see hotch looking at you in the rear view.

he gives you a simple nod. you put your hands on your belly. feeling a little bit of a flutter. when you finally get to your home you sigh in relief. james car wasn’t in the driveway.

when hotch parked the car they all get out of the car. you grab your key as you unlock the door. you look around the house. it was left the same as the night you left. you figured james left it that way so you’d come home and clean the mess.

emily sighs. she sees glass everywhere, pictures on the ground, everything looked like a crime scene. it was a crime scene.

you step over the broken table. you head upstairs, everyone following behind you. when you get to your shared bedroom you grab a suitcase. emily walks over to your closet and grabs a few clothes.

you walk over to your shared bathroom. you grab your toiletries and put them in a bag.

once you finished grabbing the most important things you head back downstairs. everyone gathered back in the car and drove out of the driveway. you rest your head on emily.

you were extremely exhausted. emily felt your head and frowned. she knew you’d probably have a fever with being constantly on radar. emily asked hotch to stop by a drug store once they get farther out.

when you finally arrived to emily’s she told you to get some rest. you fell asleep right on the spot.

emily closed the door gently to her guest bedroom. she asked if anyone wanted any water.

“has she said anything else to you? anything about james?”

emily shakes her head. “nothing.”

“she’s deserves justice, prentiss. is there anything at all you can do to convince her?”

“i don’t think so. guys, yn, she’s always been pretty fragile. even as a young girl.”

“what do you mean?”

emily sighs. she sits down next to derek before continuing. “yn grew up kinda the same as i did. her parents, her father was a politician. he was hardly around. her mom would go with her. they left her alone with me. she was only eight when i started ‘babysitting’ i was barely sixteen. we both just understood each other. with our parents barely paying us any mind. i had a wall up. i was hardly trust anyone, especially my parents. anything my mom said to me, promised me, i heard in one ear and out the other. yn was different. she trusted her parents. they’d tell her they’ll take her somewhere, pick her up, travel to different countries, but it never panned out. she still believed them. she trusted their judgement on anything and everything. that includes people she’s dated. if a guy was out of their liking, they’d tell her. she’d break things off with him and find someone new. but nothing she did was ever good enough for them. it’s why i had a hard time leaving. i just—i couldn’t stay there. i had to get out of there and find my own way. yn also had her own dreams. she wanted more than being the daughter of a government official. she wanted to brighten her horizons. but her parents had other plans. when she was legal, they’d introduced her to james. they thought he was perfect for yn. yn still trusted their judgment and dated him. when i got the invitation to the wedding, i thought it was some sick joke. i graduated with james harper. i knew the kind of man he was. ive heard rumors here and there of the women he abused in the past. even seen some of the flinch at the smallest most innocent gestures. when i saw her, when i saw yn, i knew he’d been hurting her. i tried to get her to move, come live with me, get away from all the abuse she’s endured. she just shrugged it off and left. the next phone call i got from her was her uninviting me to her wedding. i knew from the way her voice trembled he’d hurt her bad. i tried telling her parents but they didn’t believe a word i said. they agreed that i was no longer invited to the wedding. i was sure when i got a phone call from her again, it would be the hospital or her parents telling me she was killed. it sucks, it’s pretty fucking shitty, but she’s right. james has so many connections. he could get away with murder.”

“we can’t just let this guy walk, em.”

emily looks at her teammates. she sighs as she nods her head in agreement.

“ill try and talk with her. right now, i wanna make sure she’s okay. she’s like my sister. she is my sister. this is personal.”

they all nod understandably. everyone says their goodbyes before hotch stops. he turns. “if she needs anything, anything at all emily, call me alright?”

emily nods her head. “i will. thanks hotch.”

hotch nods his head before leaving. emily gently closes her front door before walking into her guest room, and lying next to you.

okay…this is all over the place but i promise it’ll get better! i just wanted to get everything out in the open before i continue.

this is a hotch x reader story and will be kinda fast paced going from here. i said before, i don’t like slow burns that are too slow!

so slow burn but not three toed sloth slow

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆

summary - you and ransom had thought of playing a game, a game of jealousy. in the beginning, everything was fine, it was fun, but lately, it felt as though he no longer loved you, that he’d rather the women he flirted with. after the party, do you think their relationship can be resolved?

warning - angst, self-hate, talks of cheating.

the gif and headers I use aren’t mine, and the divider is by @firefly-graphics

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You remembered when you and Ransom made up this silly game. Oh, how stupid you were for agreeing to it. You didn’t think it would hurt as much as it did. At first, it was fun. Getting to see Ransom all worked up and jealous, but it changed… Drastically, it changed. You were the one to get worked up and jealous. Maybe it was because he seemed to enjoy other women’s attention more than yours now. Did you push it too far? Was it your fault that he’s falling out of love with you? It couldn’t be, right?

You and Ransom were hosting a party tonight. You weren’t as excited as you used to be. Parties with the love of your life used to be fun, but now with the neverending game... It felt like a punch in the face because no matter how pretty you made yourself, his eyes always seemed to be watching someone else.

You sighed as you stared at yourself in the mirror. The white dress with black outlines clung to your body. Your hair was neatly clipped back, with a few strands framing your face, and you stared into the eyes of the girl you once were. Your eyes were sad, drained, lifeless. The black eyeliner around them didn’t do much, nor did the deep red lipstick that covered your plump lips. The very lipstick that Ransom said was his favourite, but lately, it wasn’t.

Why were you doing this? Why couldn’t Ransom see that the game was now hurting you? Did he even want to see it? Was he happier getting a free pass to cheat because all it was to him was a game?

“Babe, the party is starting. Are you ready?” Your eyes connected with his through the mirror, noticing how he just leaned against the doorway. You remember when he used to sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around you, peppering your neck with kisses until you’d break into giggles, playfully pushing him away. Now, he just stands there… He looked annoyed, like he’d been waiting forever.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. Glancing in the mirror one last time as you smooth out your dress, you slowly head toward the door. Feeling saddened when you find it empty, Ransom has already left, making his way to greet your guests. You had entered the room, already noticing that Ransom was flirting with some beautiful, busty redhead. Her hand squeezes his biceps as she giggles at whatever he says, your heart would squeeze at the sight of his hand resting on her hip, but you’ve become numb to it all.

You smile at your guests as you walk to your built-in bar. Hoping and praying that they couldn’t tell how fake it was, how you no longer felt happy. You made it to the bar, sitting on the stool and waving to the bartender. You give the man yet another very well-performed fake smile while ordering a drink. You don’t dare turn around when you take a sip, not wanting to watch your boyfriend with another woman. You wished you had the courage to end this game and tell him no more. You thought he’d notice the game was over when you no longer flirted with other men, but you guess Ransom was too into his head to see anything else.

“Y/n? Is that you?’ You turn your head slightly, and the seat beside you is filled as a man from your past sits down. He smiles at you, eyes sparkling with the happiness you wish you had. You wouldn’t deny the jealousy you felt by how genuine his joy looked. “Wow! It’s been so long! You look absolutely gorgeous! How have you been?”

You smile softly at his compliment, taking a sip of your drink before you respond. “Hi, Steve. I’ve been good… How about you? Last I heard, you opened your own art studio?” He nods, ordering himself a drink as he continues to smile at you.

“Yeah! It’s honestly the best decision I’ve made. Are you sure you’re okay? I thought you and Ransom were doing well?” You could’ve broken down right then and there at his concerned gaze. You wondered why he would ask such a question, so you turned. Oh, what a dumb decision. Why did you have to turn? Because there stood your boyfriend, with the redhead pushed against the wall as he continued to flirt, his hands dangerously close to her ass and her hands tangled in his hair.

“Oh… Uh, yeah. It’s just an uh… It’s a game that we have going on between us….” You quickly chug the rest of your drink, feeling tears brimming your eyes and the lump in your throat grow more significant. You refuse to look into Steve’s eyes, knowing they’d be filled with pity and confusion. “I–I’m going to… I need some air… If you’ll excuse me….” You quickly stand and rush outside, rushing around to the wall where you can’t be seen. Heartbreaking sobs escape you, your hands flying up so no one can hear you. You let it go, all the pain and heartbreak.

You didn’t hear or notice Steve following you, and you didn’t know you weren’t alone until you felt arms wrap around you, hands stroking your hair as they pressed you into their chest. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. Everything will be okay.” Steve held you as you cried, rocking you slightly. His head turns, and his eyes connect with worried blue ones. Ransom had watched you leave the room, and he was confused about why you were crying in another man’s arms.

You slowly pull back, clearing your throat and blinking away the tears. You look at Steve’s shirt and frown. “Oh, god. I ruined your shirt… I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He continues to stroke your hair, looking deep into your eyes as he says this. You hear a huff and look over, your eyes finding your boyfriend’s. You notice the frown set on his face before he rolls his eyes and storms inside, probably to continue to flirt with the redhead. You could feel the numbness begin to set in, wondering how long you’ll be able to continue in a relationship where there’s no longer any love. “Hey.” Steve lifts your head, “go talk to him. Maybe this is a big misunderstanding? He followed you out here after noticing you left, shouldn’t that account for something?”

“Maybe…” You blink, your hands coming up to fix your makeup, but what does it matter? It’s not like anyone cared. “Thank you, Steve… Maybe we could go for lunch sometime?” Steve smiles, nodding before he reaches up and begins to help with your make-up, wiping away the mascara.

A few more hours passed before the party finally came to an end. You and Ransom had headed outside to say goodbye to the guests. His arm wrapped securely around your waist. You had noticed his focus had been more on you after what had happened outside. As the last of the guests were leaving, you saw the redhead that Ransom had been flirting with walking toward you both, her hips swaying, adjusting her bra so that her breasts were pushed up.

“Ransom.” She purrs, touching his arm when she stops before him, batting her eyelashes at him. “It was so good seeing you. You’ll call me, right?” You felt sick as his arm slowly slid from your waist, landing on hers as he smiled down at her.

The walls were built too high, and you could feel the alarms going off in your head. Warning you that your emotions were going into lockdown, begging you to feel. You stood there, again watching your boyfriend flirt with some easy bimbo right in front of you and when he looked at you. You could’ve sworn he looked broken. You weren’t sure why, though? He seemed to have what he wanted, but you didn’t know that Ransom wanted you to look at him with love in your eyes again. He wanted you to have the light and happiness in them when you used to look at him. But all he got was sadness. They were no longer full of life, just lifeless.

He wouldn’t admit it, but seeing you with Steve felt like a stab to his heart. Ransom could tell the smile you gave Steve was genuine, one that you’d only faked with him recently. Before he could say anything, you left, turning your back on him and walking back into the house.

“Can you just fuck off already? Jesus, why the fuck would I want some bimbo when I have the most amazing woman in there?” He growled, glaring at the whore in front of him.

“Really? You started flirting with me! You fucking asshole!” He felt the sting on his cheek, but Ransom didn’t care. He needed to win your love back. Ransom thought you were enjoying the game. He was an idiot for agreeing to it. Why did he do it? Why agree when he didn’t even find any other woman attractive? Ransom only wanted you. He wanted the whole package. Marriage, kids, grandkids. But he only saw that with you, not these worthless whores.

He stormed into the house and on the way to his room. He quickly realised his many mistakes, the flirting and the distance. Ransom had realised he didn’t compliment you on the stunning dress you picked out, god, he loved the dress. He loved that you wore his favourite shade of lipstick on your lips, the lips he loves kissing, the lips he’s missed.

As Ransom reached his room, he felt his whole world shatter around him. There you stood in front of the mirror, studying and judging yourself. He watches you cup your breasts, pushing them together and up, how you turn to stare at your ass. Ransom slowly stepped into the room, and your eyes snapped up and connected with his saddened ones. He could see that you tried to wipe the lipstick off. A beautiful shade of red was smeared across your cheek. Your hair was down and messy from the clip being torn out and thrown across the room.

“Princess–”

“Don’t.” You glare before turning and heading to the bathroom to wash off your makeup. Ransom follows. His heart was heavy as he thought of ways to make it up to you.

“The game was a stupid idea… I shouldn’t have agreed or continued to flirt with those women.” He leans against the bathroom door, continuing to talk even though you don’t look at him. “I don’t want anyone else, not since I met you. Hell, I’ve even had thoughts of starting a family and marrying you, only you. Anytime I try and think of doing that with anyone else, you are the only one I can think of.” He blinks back the tears that threaten to spill, “I’m the biggest idiot alive. I had the most beautiful woman on my arm and left it too late to see it.”

You stopped halfway through, taking your make-up off, staring at him through the mirror as he continued to ramble on. “If you mean that, why were you so close to her against the wall? Why did it seem like more than flirting?”

Ransom groans, rubbing his face. “Because I’m stupid! Because when I saw you and Steve talking, I realised how close I was to losing you forever!” He moves closer, spinning you and grabbing your hands. Ransom stares you in the eyes. “I always knew that you deserved someone like Steve, hell. You deserve so much more than this life, and when I saw you giving him a smile I haven’t seen since we started this stupid game. I lost it, and I became a dumb man.”

Your lip wobbles, eyes brimming with tears as you stare up at him. “And then, when I saw you rush outside, he followed you. I felt like I had failed, especially when I followed and saw you in his arms. My god, Princess, I love you! I love you! I love you! My heart is literally in pieces, I’ve been an ass, and I’ll do anything to get you to forgive me!” He drops to his knees, pressing his face into your stomach as he breaks down. “I’m so sorry. I’ll understand if you pack up and leave me forever.”

The tears fall from your eyes, and your eyes slowly close as your hands find their way to Ransom’s hair, trying to calm yourself by running your fingers through it. “How do I know I can trust that, Ransom? How can I trust your word of loving me when you seemed so happy? The game didn’t mean for you to distance yourself from me… You chose to avoid me. How can I trust that you won’t break my heart?”

He buries his face deeper, hugging you closer. “I’d rather stab myself in the heart than break yours.” Ransom stands, looking down at you with puffy red eyes. “You don’t have to forgive or trust me tonight, tomorrow, a week or a month. But I will stick by your side as long as you will have me, and hopefully… Hopefully, one day you’ll take my last name.” You look up at him, breathing heavily as your mind and heart struggle with your decision. He strokes your cheek before leaning down to lean his forehead against yours, a whisper falling from his lips. “I love you, Princess. I’m always going to love you.”

“...I love you too, Ransom… Always.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[writingwenches]

Beginnings

synopsis: we meet our peasant girl!OC, Lyn, as she travels to a market to sell her wares were she runs into a supposed prince, who is a bit of a brat lol. (it is alluded to that the OC is plus size and mixed race, but I did write this quick so its missing lots of info bits).

authors note: this is basically an info dump LOL the opening chapter of an oc/au House of the Dragon Aemond/Peasant!OC fic. Very Princess and the Pauper. The main idea behind it being – wanting to introduce more woman living at court in the Red Keep. Targaryen!cest is not my thing, and I think there's a lot to be said about the lack of woman at court and the fact that Targaryen daughters are expected to marry their brothers #oops.

additional lore: More about Lyn, the Lannisters, and Helaena/other characters.

word count: ~3k

warnings: barely edited, ableism, classism, body image issues, misogyny, general medieval sentiments, very AU/fast and loose when it comes to ASOIAF lore (such as I know the Septas teach girls to read, but its more fun for a cute crush to do it)

The road was well built and raised from the dank, mudded ground. The sound of horse hooves pounding ebbed in and out of focus as they hurried by. The Sister Septas never wanted to give the impression of favoritism, so they made sure to never allow the girls in their charge to ride along, if they were old enough to walk, they could carry themselves to the market, it was one of the many harsh lessons the sisters blessed her with other the years, made up of weeks of seven days, each guided by one of the seven gods.

The Day of the Mother was spent serving those in need and Lyn had worn the village paths well. Lyn was no stranger to hard work. Her frame was sturdy and healthy. Her back was wide, good for hauling bales of hey and baskets of stone. Her legs were powerful, easily carrying her the tens of miles to those in need of her services. And, adorning her face since birth, was a black mark of raised flesh below her right eye. Many say it's an omen of her mother’s sins, and a reason to be left to the charity of the Sisters. Whatever it was, it made Lyn easily requested for hired labors.

Most in the Realm would scoff at the offer of manual labors from a woman, but those in need are much kinder. They they are not always grateful, it is not because of her sex but because no one wants to turn beggar. 

The Day of the Crone was for lectures, often on the immorality of allowing one self to be in need or unwanted. For unwanted men of the realm, there was the Night’s Watch. Some unwanted boys are sent as soon as they were old enough to lift a sword. They were raised and trained to be useful along their brothers, forged to the sole purpose of defending the realm and never to be left wanting. 

The Faith recruited woman of fine birth, in want of a life not owned by a husband, and those who’s families were willing to pay handsomely for a life of purpose for their unfortunately female child. Women worked and clawed and won their way into the duty of a Septa, the Faith had no use for useless girls. There was no place in the realm for unwanted girls. Brothels did not want them. They already had enough bastards, and young flesh did not turn enough of a profit. Girls were not wanted unless they were useful, and many unuseful girls found themselves living on the streets or dead in a ditch. 

That was what would befall Lyn is she were ever to be found wanting, of something more, of something else. She was lucky to have been given her place amongst the holy woman of the Faith, even if she was not going to benefit from their handouts much longer.

Lyn was not sure how many baskets she was carrying, she had threaded her arms through as many as she was able and began the miles long trek to Haronfall Port for the market. Though she was not yet allowed to keep her own coin, it was good practice for her future life of trading and bartering amongst the peasants of the realm.

Charity is the only hope for useless girls, and not enough to go around. The Maidenhouse of Haronfall was an ancient structure, run by the Faith for centuries as a place to send discarded girl-children, forging useless girls into something worthy. It was their true calling, regardless of what those girls’ wants. 

Lyn owed everything to the Faith and the Septas, even when she received her lashings. She always deserved them. Six lashes for each offense, as was the law of the land, one for every god of the Seven, counting out The Stranger. It was bad luck to strike a seventh time, unless wishing them death. And the Septas were never that cruel. 

Lyn had received lashing her six lashing for talking back, and being a layabout, for asking too many questions, for being too ambitious, for pride, for stealing bread, for not finishing supper, for lying to protect another, for being too loud, quiet, and simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. The same was true for all the girls. Sets of six lashings for each failure on the long list of their life, unless there were seven failures, then eight sets of lashings would be administered. For good luck. 

Lyn was forced to the side of the road by passing carts, hounds barking from the back of the cart as they passed the strange shape of her basket cocoon. The mud is thick and pliable, every footstep loudly sucked from the dank swamp like floor. The hundreds of other feet that had trodded the ground began the kneading. Lyn feels like she is swimming along the the edges of the road.

Lyn surmised most of the Septas had not imagined ending up in such a cold, dank place in the middle of the Kingsroad. The western shores of The Bite was unforgiving terrain, a swamp of brackish, mud-colored water that every structure eventually sinks into. The Reverend Mother often reminded the girls of her life in the southern Reach, of the endless summer days and sweet smelling grass. The wet, grey skies where the North, Riverlands and Vale meet leaves much to be desired for a southerner. 

Lynora was not meant for a life as a Septa, as was foretold since her youth. The maesters and Septons tested the young girls as they came into the charge of the Faith and Lynora, and the other girls of the Maidenhouse, left them unimpressed. She had not shown intelligence, or gifts for art, or sums, or memorizing prayers. So, she was ranked amongst the useless girls who needed to be molded into something more. 

On the Day of the Smith, the girls were instructed to work on their personal projects. Lyn was a skilled basket maker, she harvested, dried and weaved the fibers all on her own. If only the world had been in want for more basket weavers. The Septas assured her there was never a need for an extra weavers apprentice.

“Lyn!” a voice called, her face blurred out by the rising sun. “Have you been to the market yet today?” It was Mads, her fellow ward of the Maidenhouse. 

“No, it is too early,” Lyn answered the obvious question, “How did you–“

“Listen, Lord Ryver sent a raven,” Mads continued, finally coming into speaking distance. 

“But, the Septas hate when he does that–“

“Lord Ryver is playing host to none other than the prince,” Mads could not keep the secret any longer. “I have seen him myself, silver hair and all.” 

Lyn did not bother reacting, as Ryver was a known talltale-teller. “And I am secretly Lady Frey,” she laughed, “The prince is not in Haronfall.” 

“It is fated that you say Frey, because you shall never guess–“ 

“The septa told us nought a week ago of the King’s birthday tourney, don’t you think his son would be there…in the Crownlands, with his father.” 

“Waltel Frey has seen his dragon!” 

Lynora stopped at this. “And we are now believing Waltel Frey?”

“I have to go fetch Wren! She can not miss this,” Mads was the one walking now, back down the road towards the Maidenhouse to spread false whispers the Septas were sure to retaliate for. 

Lyn stepped aside when she heard the call, a two horse cart clomped past with banners of indigo, emblazoned with a proud, white bird. A matching figure sat on the cart, in the place of honor. A woman in a white dress, adorned with dyed feathers and pearls.

It was a strange feeling, knowing someones name, there was an old power Lyn felt creeping from the roots below the swampy road. Lady Hanna Mallister, filled to bursting with another pup for her lord husband. It was sickening the way her belly jiggled as the horse mindlessly aimed for the most uneven path before them. The lady had traveled a week from Seaguard for the monthly market, and Lyn had watched her grow every month with child, enough for Lyn to wonder how many babes were inside her belly this time. 

There was a parodical to bow in the presence, but there was nothing behind the lady’s eyes to notice. Lyn studied her as she passed, searching for something in response, something that could say why this woman would spend half of her life on the road, when so pregnant. 

If there was something to be said about unwanted girls, is that they were unwanted by all. Lyn was glad she would remain unwanted, there was nothing expected of her, so no one would ever be disappointed. 

Sometimes as the Lady Hanna Mallister passed, she would take a passing place down at Lyn. Lyn imagined she was looked at the mark on her face. Many people would say a quiet prayer when they say her, especially those swollen with child. A prayer that their girl doesn’t end up so disfigured and disgusting. Lady Hanna did not seem to say a prayer when she gazed down on her face, the lady did not seem to do anything. 

Lyn did not mind being disgusting and ugly, actually she enjoyed it. Girls did not care about such things as ugly, they cared about her all the same. She knew of the dangers of a beautiful face, the Septas told them every tale that could exist of beautiful girls being dragged away and savaged by men of all ages and sizes. It was horrifying. Lyn was glad that no man would ever want to drag her away or trap her in a tower. All she could promise was ugly children in return. No man wants that. So, she was glad the world was not ruled by women, just like the Septas they would force a use for her in their world, no matter what she looked like. 

By the time she reached Haronfall, long after the Lady of Seaguard she imagined, Lyn had almost forgotten about the tale of the silver haired prince. The other girls of the Maidenhouse fell into step with one another, each of the group responsible for their own wares. Name sharpened knives, Name jarred herbal jams, Name made rope, Lyn wove baskets, and the girls would peddle their wares every monthly market, bartering with connections, always on the lookout for open positions or wanted work. They were not going to live in the Maidenhouse forever, and the older they got, their chances of a comfortable life dwindled. 

His father had thrown yet another grand week in his own honor, tourneys and a great hunt in the Kingswood. Aemond had been forced to sit through enough for one lifetime, even if he was barely a man grown. He could not help but find a quick reason to excuse himself from the festivities, especially with the task of traveling halfway across the kingdom. 

Helaena had been born so closely to his father, the king, that her own name day celebrations were always greatly overshadowed. He could not help but jump at the opportunity to fetch her a gift in the Riverlands…or the Vale…or potentially the North. Flying above the lands on Vhagar, he had noticed a distinct lack of boundaries, like the ones on the Maesters maps. 

Aemond had been stuck in the cold swamplands for nearly a day, and could understand why his studied of geography skimmed over the shores of The Bite, there was simply nothing there. He was glad at the lack of fanfare at his arrival, the Lord of the keep was away, celebrating the King’s name day, and all that was left was his two sons, one near his own age, and the other barely aged out of childhood. 

His fist connected with bone. Blood leaked from holes in the boy’s face. Aemond had wrapped himself on the boy, to pin him to the first and wailed into his face. Aemond could hear the other boy shouting and grabbing his shoulders, Aemond did not yield. He was going to prove himself the victor even if it killed the boy. 

Aemond could feel hands wrapping around his face, his reflexes reacting as if they were clearly going to remove his eye patch. 

“My prince!” Ryver shouted, as if he were about to warn of a fire.

Aemond pulled his punch as Ryver’s alarmed expression bringing him back into focus to the world around them. The bustling sounds of the town. 

“The maidens,” River said, gently shaking Aemond’s shoulders at his confusion. “They are arriving!”

Walton Frey, the boy Aemond had been beating with his bare fists, smiled as blood splattered out of his mouth. 

The young boy, River’s kid brother, barely old enough to be out from his mother’s skirts, offered him a skin of water.

“What?” Aemond could not find any other word to describe his confusion. He knew of Maidenpoole and House Mooton, but they were on the other side of The Vale. The young prince racked his brain for the towns and houses of the area, unable to find an explanation. 

He simply needed to follow the pointed finger of Lord Ryver, as the Frey boy cleared the blood from his face with half the skin of water.

He heard their song first, the same tune he had heard carried by the Septas in King’s Landing when he went light candles with his mother, the queen. He had never heard the tune carried to lightly, with punctuations of laughter, and the crisp voices of youth. 

There were about a dozen of them. 

“The old bats let them come to our markets,” Ryver offered the prince his hand, to finally move Aemond off the Frey boy. “Truely, it is the only thing the market has to offer, if you ask me,” Ryver laughed, ushering the prince to the edge of the weakly fenced in training yard. “The Maiden’s of the Maidenhouse,” Ryver sighed, melting into the fence.

Pesants. The lot of them. Girls dressed in grey wool that made Aemond’s skin itch. They were each different, wearing the same dress, lacking the graceful symmetry of courtly woman. The ladies of court had their places at the sides of their husbands and fathers, offering a gentle voice and soft hand to hold. Women were there to make men better, otherwise, Otto had told him, men would regress into beasts, doing nothing but fighting and burning the realm to the ground. The ladies of court were raised with the knowledge of how to quell thoughts of violence with a simple kind glance. Not that Aemond had ever experienced it himself, but his grandsire had assured him during their many conversations about…urges.

“Ladies!” Waltel Frey called out with a wave of his sore arm. 

Aemond scoffed, it was an insult to the world to call these creatures ladies.

They approached in an uneven form, whoever veered down the path at their beckoning of a Frey. One limping girl was even carrying her own shoes amongst her wares, and Aemond could see mud past her ankles. 

“Lord Frey, do you not have two castles to sleep in, and yet you still choose to be here?” The first girl asked as she reached the fence, knocking on the helmet Ryver’s kid insisted on wearing, Aemond assumed even to bed. 

Aemond did not bother hiding his disgust at the pathetic display of peasantry that appeared before him. During his rides through King’s Landing, the prince had seen more organized gaggles of geese. The cream atop the cake approached, wearing armor of baskets, and a face smeared with mud.

She dropped the baskets at the fence line, releasing a long, labored breath. “So,” she spoke, clearly minded. 

Aemond wondered how heavy baskets could possibly be. 

“Is this your prince, Lord Ryver?” The grey clothed girl looked him directly in this eye, no sense of pretense or reverence. 

Ryver wrapped himself around the nearest fencepost to Aemond, with a wolfish grin, ready to pled his case to the nonbelievers. He had said these girls were raised by the Faith, but Aemond knew of piety, and these girls were a poor example of what a pious woman could be. 

“Are we to believe that he is the only one-eyed, silver haired, man in all the world?” a sceptic asked. 

“How many could there possibly be?” Ryver argued. 

“Yes, but,” a smaller girl interrupted, “he looks like he lost his eye, rather than–?” 

There was a bubbling in Aemond’s chest, as the peasantry spoke about him as if he weren’t even there. He could feel the dragon fire bellowing in his chest, daring them to speak ill of him, ready to burn their pathetic village to the ground. 

“Wouldn’t he had been born that way? They are forced to marry their bothers, after all? Resulting in…such things?” 

Aemond’s mouth was open, without him realizing. The rage at the memory of his defeat at the hands of his nephew vanished and was replaced with the vision of a cyclops babe, writhing in its crib. 

Ryver eyed him with suspicion. 

Aemond could not help but laugh.

[burstanddecay]

Green Green Dress

Pairing: Will "Ironhead" Miller x named F!Reader (Sunny) Summary: Will thought his night was unfortunate: single during the holidays, left alone at a bar by his brother and facing the prospect of walking home for an hour in the biting cold. However, the first date taking place right behind his seat reaches a level of shitty he never considered to be achievable. Wordcount: 6.7K Contains/Warning: a shitty date, mentions of a life changing accident (to an outside character), general assholery from a man, attempted sexual coercion, a whole lotta fluff. In addition, the perspective shifts between 2nd and 3rd person. This fic mentions characters from Cold Is The Night: you don't have to read that fic to understand this, but this is an accompaniment to that, as Will and Benny are brothers.

He’s not listening in on purpose.

Really.

It’s just that the conversation happening right behind his back is like a car accident that caught on fire after the initial crash.

And then exploded.

All without the guy noticing.

So far, Will has deduced that it’s a blind date (mistake one), the guy thinks very highly of himself (mistake two), and barely lets his date get a word in edgewise (mistake three).

He catches the eye of the bartender, lifting his nearly empty scotch glass to indicate the request for a second, even though he told himself that he was only finishing the one drink before heading home. The plan had been a night of drinks, but Benny left him alone merely a few minutes after Peach arrived.

Those two have been circling around each other, possibly since day one of meeting. Where Ben went, Peach went. The affection between them was palpable, and even though he never told anyone, Will knew Benny carried a folded up letter she wrote close to his heart whenever they were in the field, back when they were still active duty.

He just really hopes they finally figure out the feeling was mutual one of these days.

“Your friend leave you alone?” the bartender asks, appearing in front of him as she places a new glass on a coaster in front of him.

“Brother,” he politely corrects her. “He did.”

A joking tsk slides past her lips as she smiles at him. “And that on Christmas eve.”

Will shrugs in reply. “No harm, no foul. Friend needed him more than I did.”

“The girl that came in? She looked it.”

The remark bristles against him, setting him on edge as he silently eyes the woman in front of him. He feels defensive of Peach: she’s like a sister to him. An extension of Benny, a part of him in a soft sense: tethering his soul to the empirical earth.

He understands the danger of tying your being to another person, but those two were connected in a way that extended past his comprehension. Connected in a way he never was to Stephanie: probably one of the reasons the marriage crashed and burned when it did.

“Oh! I just meant that she looked like she needed a friend. I’ve seen that face before, is all,” the woman in front of him continues, smiling carefully. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Then why remark on it, a voice in the back of his head provides. He doesn’t voice the thought, instead pressing his lips together in a half-smile before finishing off his first glass.

He can see the hesitation in her frame, wanting to dig herself out of the awkward moment, but instead she pours him a new scotch, reaches for his old glass and wordlessly moves down the bar, dunking the glass in the sink before moving onto the next customer, ending the conversation between them.

The bar is a cacophony of many things happening all at once: a game of darts on the other end of the bar, some sort of bet on the line as made clear by the loud cheering. There is a group of guy guys—soldiers, their ramrod straight posture tells him, trying to hit on a several women around the bar, couples and small groups chatting as they occupy the tables scattered around. Suddenly, out of nowhere the music is turned down. Loud, unintelligible protests pipe up around him, until the other bartender turns the stereo back up and the chorus of the song burst through the speakers, immediately prompting the other patrons join in, singing the lyrics at the top of their lungs. He chuckles, taking a sip of his new scotch, vouching to himself that he would leave—

He groans at the realisation that hits him.

Benny picked him up earlier. He doesn’t have a car here. He’ll have to walk home. Doable, but not desirable. He lowers the glass, placing it back on the soaked cardboard coaster, rubbing slightly at his jaw as he shifts on the unsteady barstool, trying to figure out the best course of action.

He debates sending Benny a text, but he knows he won’t read it: his body had been taut as he watched Peach rush out of the bar, jaw clenched so tightly that Will almost joked about it, if it hadn’t been for the pained expression in his eyes.

Still, despite the unfortunate situation, not all was lost. He had definitely been in worse situations. He’ll finish his drink, walk home, put on a movie he won’t really watch and head over to Benny’s in the morning for a day of watching Lord of the Rings and eating take out, letting Christmas pass without giving it much attention.

The song ends with a loud cheer and the volume of the stereo system gets turned back down, the bar reverting back to conversations. He catches different topics around him: what gifts people had gotten their kids, what the plans were for tomorrow. The standard things you’d expect around the holidays. Yet there was one conversation is his direct vicinity that stood out to him: the first date happening behind him, that somehow seemed to be hurdling down a cliff even more that it already was.

“Wait, where do you work?” you ask with a frown, trying to figure out if you heard him correctly. You’re pretty sure you are. It’s just fact checking at this point, if he ever let you get a word in.

“Oh, down at Clark and Bennett. Product development. As I was saying though, in college—”

“No, I’m sorry,” you say, frowning heavily as you eye the man sat opposite you. From the moment you walked into the bar, you knew showing up was a mistake: he had seemed perfectly nice on text but gave off nice guy energy that was palpable from the other side of the room, sloppily pressing a kiss to your cheek before you sat down.

That, of course, was to blame on the semester he spent abroad when he was in college, something he managed to tell you before you even sat down. It’s how they do it in France. Rude people though, y’know? Barely speak any English.

You’d almost think it’s because they speak French as their mother tongue instead. You weren’t planning on being the one to tell him that, though.

The complete horror of your current situation didn’t settle in until he named his employer, puzzle pieces clicking into places you really did not want them to.

Clark and Bennett. The same company your oldest brother worked for, before the accident.

You repeat the name, leaning back in your seat. “My brother used to work there.”

“Oh shit, really?” he asks, suddenly eyeing you with renewed interest. His eyes had been raking over your body the entire time, eyeing you like a piece of meat he couldn’t wait to devour. Not that you were going to let him: you have been carefully planning an exit strategy since about two minutes into the one sided conversation.  But this, the reveal of a connection between the two of you, seemed to spur him on. “Who’s your brother? Maybe we worked together.”

“Daniel Jones,” you tell him.

“Wait, does he call you Sunny? You’re Sunny?”

Sunny. Not the name on your passport, but the one people close to you used.

We called you sunshine as a baby because you looked perpetually angry. It was endearing, such a little thing that looked at the world with that much despise.

Sunshine then morphed into Sunny, the name used far more often than your actual name. You knew you were in trouble when it got hurdled down the yard or up the stairs with volume that would put a drill sergeant to shame (a fact you only know thanks to your youngest brother, who came home from basic training, dropping his bags on the floor and promptly proclaiming I swear to God, my drill sergeant was like a kitten compared to mom when she’s angry).

As you grew older, you introduced yourself as Sunny in most casual settings, but at school (and later work) you went by your legal name. A blind date suggested by your co-worker turned friend seemed like a fun idea, something to talk about at the new years eve party this year, but the reality was turning out a little different.

As soon as you were able to leave, you were calling Tiffany to ask her what had possessed her when she thought this would be a good match.

Still, you were at least thankful she had apparently used that name when setting this up, as you bristle at the nickname past the lips of a man who doesn’t deserve to use it.

“My friends and family call me Sunny, yes,” you stiffly reply as the guy—Kyle, you remind yourself, grins lazily, slumping in his chair with one arm propped on the backrest.

“Man, Daniel. Dan the Man. The accident was a real shock, let me tell you that.”

Let me tell you that, as if you weren’t the one biting your fingernails down to stubs as you sat waiting for the results of the CT scan, holding your brother’s hand as you repeatedly called his wife, all while trying to stay calm for his sake even though he definitely could not move his legs.  

You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off, continuing his pattern of not letting you speak.

“How is he doing? I think he came to the office once after, but that was it.”

You know he doesn’t mean harm, that no one does when they ask that: the questions usually come from a good place, one of genuine interest. Maybe sometimes from a place that’s looking for sensation, something to relay to friends. You should hear what happened to-

Still, the question is one that gets asked almost weekly, and it was a little tiring to continuously answer, especially when they could call or text Daniel to ask him themselves.

“He’s okay,” you reply, reaching for your drink. “Still in therapy, but he’s looking at getting back into work.”

Kyle nods solemnly. “Word.”

A short silence washes over you as you sip from your drink, the ice cubes hitting your nose. You resist the urge to wipe your nose as you lower the glass, placing it back on its coaster.

“Y’know,” Kyle immediately starts back up, shifting positions and resting his elbows on the table, leaning into your space. You have to stop yourself from scrunching your nose as an overwhelming waft of cheap cologne hits you in the face like brick, leaning as far back as the unyielding backrest of your seat allows. “That accident was like, a real fucking shock to everyone at the office.”

“Right,” you reply slowly.

“No because it’s like… that’s my co-worker, right? Like he was fine one day, and then he suddenly he’s like, paralysed from the hips down. It was really shocking to us. It like, really shook me to the core if I’m being honest. It took a while before we all were like… Chill with it.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in your chest, slipping past your lips at the absurdity of his statement.

You get it: of course it’s shocking when something like that happens in your direct vicinity, to someone you know.

But you also know that Daniel rarely interacted with the product development team, the times he did talk about them usually overflowing with frustration at the employees running that particular depart.

The accident had been devastating, a blow to your family—your sister in law especially, leaving you to feel helpless as there wasn’t anything you could do but support them, take Dan to his appointments when his wife wasn’t able to take more time off work, help them adapt their house to make it wheelchair friendly.

It was funny, sitting across someone that was so far removed from your family and having him claim something that changed dynamics, even if just for a while as things adjusted over time, for himself.

You’re not even angry about.

It’s so absurd that you can’t help but laugh.

Kyle frowns, tapping the stack of cardboard coaster on the table. “I don’t think it’s that funny.”

You stifle the chuckle lodged somewhere in the back of your throat. “No, you’re right. It isn’t.”

“It was pretty traumatising.”

“You’re telling me.”

He leans back in his seat, lips pressed together tightly as he continues to tap the coasters on the table. “I mean that could’ve been me, y’know? It was some heavy shit.”

This has to be a dream. There is no possible way that, even on this hell hole of a planet, this is actually happening. It can’t be. A person surely can’t be this thick in the head.

Yet there is Kyle, who is looking at you with an expression that rests somewhere between despise and the same hungry look he had earlier, practically tearing your dress away from your body with his eyes.

Subconsciously, you pull at the skirt of said dress, shifting in your seat and supressing the urge to look at your phone in search of an out.

“Anyway, I’m gonna smoke and take a leak,” Kyle says, his chair screeching in protest as he abruptly stands up. “Order me another beer, will ya? I’ll back in a few.” He doesn’t wait for a reply, instead leaving the table and immediately knocking into the shoulder of a man sitting on a bar seat just to the right of you, spilling his drink everywhere.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t apologise, but just continues knocking into people as he works his way to the exit, leaving you to turn in your seat as you watch in mild horror as he finally pushes past a door, disappearing out of sight.

It takes a moment for the realisation to hit you, but when it does, you scramble off your chair, almost toppling over as you do. The plan is easy: pay for the drinks, rush out and fake a frantic phone call as you rush past Kyle, get in the car and head home. Once home, you’ll put a cosy sweater on and sit down to start your annual reread of The Hobbit, hiding away from the world until the following morning to drag your ass to your youngest brother’s house for a full day of activities. His fiancée had insisted on being the ones to host Christmas this year, and you were more than happy to let her: you just moved into a new place about a month ago and though almost everything was finished, it wasn’t quite there yet. The fuss that comes along with hosting wasn’t something you wanted on top of that, so you are more than happy to stick with the one tradition you uphold for yourself: baking enough cookies to feed a small village. A tradition that garnered family wide attention over the years, requests for specific recipes now pouring in as early as Halloween. The excitement you’re met with as soon as you pass the threshold of whoever’s hosting that year is well worth all the time and effort you have to put into it.

You pause for a brief second: the man Kyle bumped into is sat with his back towards you, his blond head bent down. Even though it’s not your fault, mild guilt builds in your chest as you slide past him, onto the empty seat to his left.

Even seated, you noticed he is built, muscular in a way that is noticeable even through his faded flannel. If it wasn’t for the mild expression on his face as he dabs at his pantleg with an already soaked napkin, you figure he could been seen as intimidating.

“I’m so sorry for my… friend,” you say, turning towards him, the last word accompanied by a pained smile. “Can I replace your drink?”

The guy pauses and looks up, his stark blue eyes locking you into place. “You’re saying sorry for him?” he asks, his voice pleasantly rough.

You helplessly shrug. “Someone has to. It’s a waste of a perfectly good…” you squint, trying to figure out what the remaining liquid in his tumbler is. “Bourbon?”

“Scotch,” he corrects with a smile. “No worries, I should be heading out anyway.”

“Oh. Okay. You sure? It was really rude of him, I’d be more than happy to pay for it regardless.”

You can tell there’s something he wants to say but keeps to himself, hesitantly shifting in his seat.

“Last chance,” you smile, leaning forward in your seat to see if you can spot one of the bartenders. “To get that drink paid for or say whatever it is you wanna say.”

He laughs, the sound sudden and warm. “Nah, it’d be rude,” he says, smile still on his face. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, now I’m curious.”

You can’t help but notice that he’s handsome as you shift in your seat, facing him as you do. He exudes a calm and controlled energy that, much like his stature, could be seen as intimidating in different circumstances. The way he’s holding himself does a lot: something tells you that everything about him could scream danger if he needs it to, but the relaxed shoulders and open expression on his face tell you that there’s nothing to worry about. His eyes quickly shoot across your body, the way he does a world of difference compared to how Kyle has been looking at you: this guy looks back up at your face rather than halting at chest height and keeping his gaze there.

“Your friend,” he starts, catching you a little off guard. You didn’t expect him to actually voice his thoughts, but there he went. “It’s a date, right?”

“Blind date,” you correct him. “My friend set us up.”

“I think you need to rethink that friendship.”

There is a short moment when someone fires a gun in the field, where time both seems to speed up and slow down all at once, creating a horrific vacuum where the outcome is uncertain.

Will is the calm, collected one: the voice of reason in a lot of situations, acting when others freeze. In this moment, he’s none of those things. The sentence itself is many things: a blunt, careless remark, a poor shot taken without any thought, ricocheting away from him with zero control as a result.

His breath halts and he freezes in place, eyes on the woman sat in front of him as soon as he realises he actually told her what he thought. It feels like hours, but then she suddenly barks out a laugh, the sound clear and carefree. Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she covers her mouth with one hand, the other on her lap, bunching the green satin fabric of her dress.

“You’re not wrong,” she replies between giggles. “How much of it did you hear?”

“Enough,” he merely replies, unable to help the smile that seems to be stuck on his face. He can’t recall the last time he actually said his thoughts out loud to anyone, but he seems unable to stop as words tumble out of his mouth before he even realises it’s happening. “He really likes to hear himself talk, doesn’t he?”

“Oh my god, you have no idea,” she sighs. “It’s been…” she turns towards the clock on the wall. “Forty-five minutes, and I think he only paused to ask me something once, and then also made that about him.”

He overheard the conversation but missed chunks. Despite that, he can’t even begin to wrap his head around even half the stuff her conversation partner had said. Maybe it was his years of working with the VA but claiming someone’s reality and making it about yourself when they’re the ones dealing with it, seems like an obvious no-go. He tells her as much, and she softly smiles in reply, the expression almost bashful.

“I’m used to it. I don’t know how much of you caught it, but my sister in law has it so much worse. People look straight past her, usually, even though they mean well when they ask about Dan—my brother,” she clarifies the name. He still doesn’t know hers: a piece of information he missed, either not mentioned or drowned out by the impromptu karaoke moment from earlier.

One the bartenders, the same woman from before, walks straight past them, a frustrated noise audible as the woman next to him sags back in her seat at the failed attempt to catch her attention.

“Just because you’re used to it, doesn’t mean it’s okay,” he tells her, finishing the remaining sip of scotch. He looks at her, taking note of the knotted eyebrows, her glittery eyeshadow that sparkles in the shoddy bar lighting as she blinks, processing the words. She looks lovely, but the expression on her face somewhat tugs at his heart. He’s unsure what to say, not wanting to linger on the subject, but dismissing it completely also doesn’t seem right.

“Thank you,” she smiles. “I’m Sunny, by the way.”

She extends her hand towards him, her palm completely disappearing in his hand as he shakes it.

“Will.”

“You’ve been a better conversational partner in the three minutes that I’ve been talking to you than the guy I’m with has been the entire time,” she jokes, turning away from him and leaning forward in her seat, still attempting to catch the attention of a bartender. “But I really wish I could just pay and run, because I cannot deal with this for another hour or so. This being my date,” she clarifies, looking downright horrified as she catches his eye. “Not you. You’re being lovely.”

The compliment burrows in his chest, warm and welcoming. He doesn’t read into it: this isn’t that kind of situation, but it’s welcome nonetheless.

“Sup,” a voice pipes up beside him, a hand sliding onto Sunny’s back. She almost recoils at the touch, cringing as her hands form fists on her lap. Cheap cologne hits Will before he even sees the guy, who then presses himself between the two seats with his back turned towards him. “No luck with the beer? You gotta be direct with these people, sweetheart.”

He snaps his fingers, whistling to get their attention.

In his 40 years on this planet, people still manage to surprise Will, just solely with their disregard for anything that isn’t in their own interest. This is one of those things: if his mom taught him and Benny anything, it was to put out the same amount of respect you wanted in return, be polite to service workers and perhaps most of all, be mindful of what others are telling you, whether it’s verbal or not.

This guy managed to somehow not do any of those things. Even with his back turned, Will can tell that he carries himself with an ego that stretches a mile wide, putting himself above others no matter the circumstances, the kind of person that would turn his back on you in the field for the right price.

Over the man’s shoulder, he catches Sunny’s eyes, a cocktail of panic and helplessness apparent in them as the guy in front him whistles again, snapping his fingers in annoyance.

Kyle’s hand feels like it’s burning straight through your dress, and not in a good way. Though it’s been a while since you last slept anyone, you can clearly recall what is feels like when it’s right: electric, comforting, grounding you to the here and now.

This touch, however, feels like it could instantly decay anything it comes in contact with. You’re somewhat surprised your flesh is still attached to your bones.

His fingers dig tightly into your side as he whistles again, the sound sharp and shrill alongside the snapping, catching the attention of other patrons that look at him with disgusted expressions on their face. You flush in embarrassment, unable to stop yourself. “Please stop that. You’re being rude.”

He pauses, lowering his free hand and frowning at you. “I’m being rude? That bartender is ignoring you. You’re a paying costumer, they should be serving you without it taking hours,” he shouts the last word, leaning onto the bar. You cringe, praying for the ground to swallow you whole, or to come to the sudden discovery that this is, in fact, just a nightmare.

“I think we should just pay,” Kyle continues, his hand sliding down, dangerously close to your butt. “And get out of here. My apartment is close, I could show you what a good time looks like.”

“Oh,” you laugh nervous in reply, leaning away from his touch and scooting as far back as the wobbly barstool allows you to. “Uh, I…”

“C’mon,” he urges. “It’s like, a fifteen minute drive— “

“Actually, I’m just gonna go home if we’re leaving,” you tell him bluntly. If there wasn’t an option for a smoother out, kicking down the door works just as well.

“Really?” he asks incredulously, dropping his hand off your waist. “You’re just gonna bail? God, you prude bitches are all the fucking same these days.”

You let out a surprised laugh, looking at him in disbelief as you struggle to believe this is a reality you’re living.

“It’s not funny,” he snaps. “Literally no one puts out on the first date anymore. It’s not even like you’re that hot. You should be lucky I didn’t leave as soon as soon as you came in.”

“Okay,” you merely reply, watching in amusement as his face turns red and he steps aside.

“If you’d been reasonable, I would’ve paid, but you’re not even gonna blow me?”

“Is… is that a question?” you frown, biting on the inside of your cheek to stop from laughing.

“So that’s a no. Well, I guess that means you’re the one paying today. I hope you have a shitty Christmas.” With those words, he storms away, pushing past others as he makes his way out, leaving you to stare in disbelief until he makes it out the door. Unable to hold it in any longer, you burst into hysterical laughter, clutching your sides as you try to stop the inevitable snort that ends up making it’s way out. You were the one paying anyway: it was your card on the tab.

“Honey, would you like to order an angel shot?” Finally, standing in front of you is one of the bartenders: a young woman, barely 21 by the looks of it, looking at you with a concerned frown, wiping her hands on a towel.

“I’m good,” you tell her sourly. “Little late for that. He left. I just wanna close out my tab.”

“Actually, add hers to mine,” Will says, shifting to grab his wallet out of his back pocket. “I wanna close out, too.”

“You can’t do that,” you sputter in protest, looking between him and the bartender. You didn’t even realise he was still sat there. “Right? Tell him he can’t do that.”

She shrugs. “I don’t care who does, just that it happens.”

“Put it on mine,” he tells her. “Honestly, I overheard most of what went down and it’s the least I can do,” he says as he pulls a few singles out of his wallet and folds them, placing them under his empty glass. “Especially after that display.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to,” he shrugs, sliding off his barstool. “Really. See it as an early Christmas present. Pay it forward, if that makes you feel better about taking it.”

You eye the blond as he stands behind his seat, towering over you with none of the possessiveness your sorry excuse of a date seemed to have earlier. He smiles and opens his mouth to say something when he gets interrupted.

“Here you are!” a cheery voice pipes up, holding out two cards and a receipt. “Your cards, and a receipt. I hope y’all have a happy Christmas and see you soon. Have a lovely night.”

You don’t reply, instead sliding off your seat without a word, tucking your credit card back in the cardholder that had fallen to the bottom of your clutch, pulling out your car keys as you do. You look up at Will, who stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Walk you to your car?”

You nod and he lets you take the lead, his hand lightly coming up to touch between your shoulder blades as you make your way out, eventually pushing past the door into the wintery cold. You shiver, the satin dress your wearing being one of your favourites but absolutely not cold friendly. Your coat is in your car: the hassle to bring it in and keep track of it not being worth the minute of cold as you make your way in or out. You notice Will is also not wearing a coat, something he also seems to realise as you see him supress a rolling shiver at the initial cold.

“Where’d you park?” you ask, an amused smile ghosting on your lips.

“No clue.”

“You don’t know where you parked?”

“Ah, it’s not that,” he sighs. “My brother drove us here, but something came up and he had to leave. He took the car with him.”

“Oh,” you frown. “Nothing serious, I hope?”

“No,” Will breathes. “No, just a friend that needed him there. I told him to go, not thinking it through.” He smiles at you, his mouth ticked up at one corner. “Gonna walk home.”

The sentence that rolls out of your mouth makes you feel like your mother, scolding your brothers and yourself as you raced out into the yard in the dead of winter when you were small.

“Without a coat?”

He laughs, the sound warm and sincere. “Yes, without a coat. Left it in the car. It’s not too bad, though. Definitely went through worse weather without one.”

“Oh, fuck that. It’s like, maybe 40 out. And that’s taken liberally.”

“It’s just 8 miles away from here, I’ll be fine.” The smile is still present on his face, his eyes soft as he looks at you. In the dim light of the parking lot, you see a chain peek from underneath his collar. A familiar sight: you recognise the chain to be the kind that’s attached to dog tags.

You pause for a second as you look at him, really look at him at that discovery. Your gut feeling was something you learned to listen to over the years, whatever it was said usually scarily accurate. It weeded out the creeps in bar in your college days, bad friends, but also brought a sense of comfort when it recognised safe people. As if a big blanket was draped over your shoulders and the universe was telling you it was okay to let those people in.

“Pay it forward,” you eventually say, nodding towards the silver Prius, the keys jingling in your hand as you gesture. “Get in the car, I’m dropping you off.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to,” you parrot with a smile. “C’mon. It’ll take me what, maybe 20 minutes to drop you off? It’s nothing.”

“You sure?”

“Just get in, Will.”

Cars always smell like their owners, or their owners habits: Benny’s smells like the spearmint gum he carries everywhere, alongside the sweet vanilla coffee he drinks with zero shame. Stephanie’s used to smell like her sugary sweet perfume, the one that always made his nose itch, until the scent disappeared entirely from her car, replaced by a strong car freshener. It should’ve told him right then and there that the relationship was over, but that was something he denied to himself for a long time.

Sunny’s car smells like the leather jacket she just put on, alongside perfume he caught a whiff of earlier: a green scent, one that reminds him of hiking in the woods after a rainstorm. It’s comforting and seems to suit her: Will prides himself on being able to read people around him, something that was learned out of necessity, but a welcome skill despite that. Short conversations usually tell him more than enough about a person to make an accurate assessment. If it wasn’t their words, their body language would tell on them.

Everything about her told him she was a grounded person: someone that was comfortable in their own skin, that could stand their ground and understands their worth. She wouldn’t take shit from anyone, and he’s well aware that she’s calling the shots right now.

In result, he’s aware of every single goddamn breath he’s taking, the sensation of it being weirdly calming, rather than overwhelming.

He reaches for his seatbelt as she slides into the driver’s seat, now wearing a leather jacket, the engine eerily silent as she starts the car.

Will doesn’t consider himself a country boy in anyway, but electric cars never fail to throw him off. He test drove one a while ago, but missed the steady sound a gasoline engine provides, eventually choosing a truck similar to his old one, just a newer model.

“So,” Sunny starts, turning her head towards him. “Where to?”

“Turn right when you get out of the parking lot,” he instructs. “’s just a straight road from there most of the way.”

“Really?”

He pauses for a second, caught off guard. “I… Yes?”

“No,” she laughs. “No, sorry, I don’t doubt it, it’s just that I live that way, too, and it’s not a very populated area. For me, it’s straight drive for about 15 minutes—”

“Then a left onto Millwood Drive.”

She pauses, the turn indication clicking on and off as she’s stalled in the exit of the parking lot, turning to him as much as she could. “Get the fuck out. Millwood Drive?”

“Yeah.”

“You got new neighbours about a month ago. The place where the fence used to baby blue.”

Not a question. A statement.

He frowns, thinking it over. He’s never been the type of person to keep tabs on his neighbours, picking a place that wasn’t faced towards other houses, but instead looks out onto the woods they were surrounded by, the small neighbourhood so quiet you can hear the water flowing in the creek 100 feet away.

“That’s me. I moved in there.”

“No shit,” he laughs in disbelief at the coincidence. “That’s next door to me. You’re the one that finally replaced that god awful fence?”

“No shit. And yes, I did. Can’t believe someone would live on the edge of a forest and paint the fence baby blue.”  The words come out with disdain, her nose crinkled. “Out of all the colours you can pick.”

“You replace the whole fence, or paint it over?” It’s something he probably should’ve noticed, but the weeks between thanksgiving and Christmas were exceptionally busy at work. It’s wasn’t until earlier in the week that he even noticed the blue fence was gone. He somehow completely missed her moving in, or the old neighbours moving out in the chaos that those weeks brought along with them.

“Well, the plan was painting over, but the posts were rotting near the soil, so I ended up having to replace it. Can’t complain though, the house was pretty well maintained. Was shocked to find genuine hardwood floors under the carpet, which was a nice surprise, so it was just painting everything, or replacing the wallpaper,” she smiles. “I want to redo the kitchen and bathroom at some point, but it’s no hurry.”

“I didn’t even know someone new moved in,” he says, feeling a little shameful at the confession. “I’m sorry for not saying hi.”

She shushes him, waving her hand. “Doesn’t matter, you’re all good. It takes me a while to get settled in new places, so you probably would’ve met a version of me that’s like, less than ideal. Wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.”

“The move far from where you were before?”

“No, actually,” she laughs. “It was just across town this time. I’m not actually from here, we moved down when I was like… 16? But we moved a lot when I was a kid.”

He shifts in his seat, looking at her with interest. There’s several reason why people move a lot, but there is one reason that would bring them to this area specifically.

“Army brat?” he tries.

“You know it.” The wink she gives him makes his heart uncharacteristically skip a beat. “I saw your chain in the parking lot, though.”

His hand comes up to the ball chain hanging around his neck, the tags shifting under his shirt as he adjusts it. “Force of habit. I got out a few years ago. Did some private work after that, they asked us to wear them as well. I just never stopped wearing them after, for whatever reason.”

She shrugs. “No harm in it, right?”

The drive is filled with easy chitchat, going back and forth between what they do for work, talk about the neighbourhood. He feels a pang of excitement when she offhandedly mentions her dog when asking about the best places to go for a hike.

“What kind of dog?” he asks.

“Aussie shepherd. Got him from the shelter, the poor thing was put up for adoption because he was too high energy,” she finger quotes the last few words. “I’ll show you a picture when we get home.”

The conversation flows easily, as if they’ve known each other for years rather than barely an hour. It’s not long before she pulls into their street, onto her short drive way. As soon as she’s parked, she reaches for her phone, turning it towards him to show him a short video of an Australian shepherd zooming back and forth in a fenced in backyard.

“His name is Pippin,” she tells him with a soft smile. “If you want, we should go on a hike sometime soon. Take him with us, on a trail where he’s allowed.”

“I’d love that.” He does: it’s not an exaggeration. He loves hiking, but usually ends up going alone because none of the guys really enjoy it as much as he does. Benny makes the rare exception, but usually only when he’s dealing with a lot and seeks out nature to ground when the gym fails him. He’s been longing for someone to go with, and the universe presented him with an answer, wrapped in a pretty satin green package that smiles at him with excitement sparkling in her eyes.

She nods, as if confirming it, before getting out of the car, leaving him to follow suit.

Somehow, the air is a little less cold here than it was at the bar, the breeze not as sharp as it had been there.

“Well,” she says, smoothing the bottom of her dress. “Thank you for turning my night around. Have a good night, Will.”

 “Good night, Sunny.” He waits for a moment, until she’s inside, before heading towards his own front door.

He kicks off his shoes next to the door, turning on the light as he makes his way to the kitchen for a glass of water, leaving his flannel across the back of one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

The doorbell catches him off guard, cursing softly to himself as he spills some water down the front of his shirt. He calls out as he makes his way to the door. “You’ve got a key, Benny, use it—”

He’s not met by the face of his brother: instead, it’s Sunny, holding a tin in her outstretched hands. “I made them this afternoon, and I wanted to say a proper thank you.”

“You didn’t have to,” he says, taking the tin from her.

“I know. Merry Christmas, Will.”  

She walks off before he can reply, and he’s left to stare at the tin that has a sticky note attached to the top.

Text me about that hike?

Love, Sunny.

Her phone number is listed underneath her name, and he smiles to himself as he closes the door, cracking open the tin and finding at least a dozen cookies, biting into a random one he pulls out as he puts her phone number in his contact list.

Maybe his night wasn’t too bad, in the end.

[kiwibeanv]

Astray in the Black Water: Prologue

Fatal Frame 5 crossover Bungo Stray Dogs + Fem Reader

Note: Reader not yet included in this chapter. Proceed to Chapter 1 if you would like to jump in.

Authorities couldn't find the missing girl. After weeks of searching, they left the case for the Armed Detective Agency to handle. Which was then passed to Kyouka.     She searched the mountain again for the missing person. Perhaps the police overlooked something. Rumors said that this abandoned temple was haunted and that this girl wasn't the only one who went missing. Stories of being pushed off cliffs, misty specters of drenched shrine maidens, and trapped souls trying to drag them to the nether world. Though, that didn't faze her at all.      Kyouka did manage to find a bracelet from the missing girl. Right in front of the temple up the hill. She gazed at it, thinking the girl went there. It was a large temple. Multiple floors, countless rooms, spiraling hallways, and some flooding underground. A phantom bell rung randomly, as if trying to call Kyouka. 

She entered a room flooded with water. It was empty and dark. Not even her flashlight could light up the big room. The water was too murky, but there was a chance for a hidden item. As she marched, her foot hit something in the water. She stared at the spot and reached for it. Within that same moment, a head of a woman emerged. Her hair covered her most of her face and she attempted to lunge at her.     Kyouka dodged and saw her robes. This woman rose but her feet levitated above the water. Other drowned women emerged. She never expected to be surrounded by spirits and fled the room. Kyouka isn't easy to scare, however this was a rare moment of her holding back her nerves. She attempted to go back but another spirit, a woman in a black kimono blocked her path. She went the other way and saw a room with light. A possible exit, she thought.

    The doors shut behind her and she stood at the top of the stairs. Again another flooded room but it was surrounded by shelves with pottery. In the center of the room, a light shined down on a black box. She had a moment of revelation, perhaps the girl could be inside that box. She started to make her way to the box. At the halfway point, the box suddenly opened. Black long hair slithered out and into the murky water. It wrapped around her ankles and Kyouka used her knife to cut it. However, her attention landed on the pale specter emerging. She started to panic and tried to tear the hair off.

    The spirit floated into the air. Her eyes were focused on Kyouka. Her arms reached out and she got closer and closer. And that was all Kyouka could remember.

    The ADA waited for her to return that night but she never came back. The morning came and Atsushi never saw her futon undone. Whispers of the news crept along to the café workers, to their friends, and ultimately the ears of the Port Mafia. Most members didn't care about the report. All but one: Kouyou. She couldn't bear the fact that someone had taken Kyouka and she felt the need to rescue her this time. Not Dazai. And just like before, she went to the mountains and underestimated the spirits. The Port Mafia didn't hear from her again. 

    These two events led to the ADA and PM sending out their troops to find their beloved members. Atsushi and Dazai, and Chuuya's party went out into the mountain. They explored the station, the inn, and the groups crossed paths in the forest. Dazai and Chuuya glared daggers at each other.  "Why the fuck are you here?!" Chuuya leaned forward with his hands on his hips. His squad of men stood back on guard.

"You weren't the one I wanted to commit suicide with," Dazai deadpanned.

"Well, I didn't want to do this anyways!" Chuuya snapped back.

Atsushi didn't want either side to start fighting. He took a step forward, asking, "Did you guys also lose someone here?"

Chuuya looked over to Atsushi. "And why should I give an answer to the Armed Detective Agency?"

"Because~," Dazai chimed in. "The Port Mafia wouldn't be looking into this unless someone important went missing."

"Well if you just kept an eye on your member, we wouldn't have been here to begin with!" Chuuya shot back. 

"You should have kept an eye too!"

    Atsushi let the two men bicker as he took a look of his surroundings while giving them space. He knew there was no stopping them. In the corner of his eye, he saw a white figure. He only got a look of the robes before it disappeared, and the chiming of a bell rung in his ear.

"Oi! Did anyone else see that?" Atsushi asked.

Dazai and Chuuya followed his gaze. They shook their heads.

"Do you really believe in ghost stories?" Chuuya scoffed as he put his hand on his hip.

"No, I really saw something," Atsushi argued.

"Really?~" Dazai crept up behind Atsushi. "There are a lot of stories about this place. A place to commit suicide, spirits drive you to death, or--!" He tapped his fingers along Atsushi's shoulders as if trying to make a crawling sensation. "The infamous hachishakusama is said to lurk here."

Atsushi shivered. "The eight feet tall woman?"

Chuuya rolled his eyes. "It's all stories! None of it is real."

"Because you refuse to admit your fear~" Dazai teased. 

"I'm not scared!"

    Atsushi sighed. He goes away from the group to continue his investigation. Though, he was wary enough to stay in sight, in case things go wrong. He comes across a broken bridge. Across was a shrine. He thought he saw something float in the water. He shook his head and saw nothing. Dazai would soon join him, after finishing his bickering with Chuuya. 

"Hah... Now I don't feel like doing anything," Dazai sighed and looked around.

"We have to look for Kyouka," Atsushi reminded him, turning his back on the river. "She could be stuck anywhere on this mountain."

Dazai hummed in thought. "Strange... Kyouka is not one who goes down easily. If nothing was on the mountain, she should have returned home. Even stranger when a Port Mafia executive disappeared shortly after too."

"So, there must be something that made them lost..." Atsushi added. 

"Now, I don't believe in ghost stories, however, locals say this mountain is cursed," Dazai brought up as he puts his hands in his coat pockets. "Others have disappeared here, and this is a hot suicide spot!" His eyes sparkled.

Atsushi gave him a look of disbelief. "Why would you commit suicide in a cursed mountain?" 

"Because if people succeeded here, then surely I will," Dazai replied. "I don't need you dying now," Atsushi rolled his eyes. "Look, let's check out that temple over there."

    They looked across the river were the temple sat, not noticing the sheer, pale hand coming from the water. Groans of pain were heard and it seized Atsushi's ankle and pulled him into the water. Atsushi let out a yelp. Dazai yelled his name and tried to get a hold of him. The figure that stood before Atsushi was a drenched man. His clothes stuck to his body, his hair fell down his face, and his mouth was wide open. He held onto him like a zombie. Atsushi attempted to use his tiger claw to cut his arm, but his hands went through the spirit.

  "I can't hit him!" Atsushi yelled out.

"You can't hit ghosts! Get out of there!" Dazai managed to grab a hold of his collar and reeled him in.

Atsushi wiggled out of the ghost's grasp. Though, the spirit followed. They fled from the river to get some distance. Afar, they heard some commotion too. A yelp familiar to Dazai before a log hits the ground with a loud thud. They heard commands to fire at will but the bullets only hit the trees and dirt.

"Sounds like Chuuya is figuring out he can't hit ghosts either," Dazai says as he looked at the direction of the noise.

"If our abilities don't affect these ghosts, then what do we do?" Atsushi asked.

"Find something that handles ghosts," Dazai replied.

In that same moment, Chuuya came to the same area panting, holding his hat. His men followed with goosebumps crawling on their skin. 

"Dammit! What the hell are we supposed to do against these spirits?!" Chuuya hit a tree trunk with his fist. "Oi Dazai, don't you know?"

Dazai shrugged. "Exorcisms?"

Chuuya scoffed. "Even those guys will run with their tails between their legs. Ain't there an ability user who can deal with this?"

The other two shrugged their shoulders. Neither of them knew anyone who had that ability. Even if they asked a psychic, there was a chance that they are not legitimate. However, Atsushi had an idea.

"What if we ask Ranpo for some legitimate users?" He asked.

"We could. He can narrow it down easily for us," Dazai agreed with a nod. "But who's paying?"

The ADA members stared at Chuuya, expectantly.

"Hah? Why are you looking at me?!" He snapped, pointing a finger to himself.

"Surely you have lots of money to afford your clothes," Dazai smirked.

"And surely the government gives you guys a good payout," Chuuya shot back.

"Well..." Atsushi raised his hands up to his chest. "We could split. Fifty-Fifty?"

"Fair enough," Chuuya nods. 

Dazai snickered behind him. "Yeah that works," He said as he hid his grin with his hand.

They all heard a bell ring and felt like someone was watching them.

"You guys settle that then and tell me who you got," Chuuya says as he was getting ready to leave. "The faster you get them, the better. I'm gonna need them too."

"Okay but we call first dibs," Dazai added.

  "It better be quick finding Kyouka." Chuuya turned away to mutter, "I'm worried about big sis..."

    The trio split ways. Dazai and Atsushi went back to Ranpo to figure out the best candidate. They compiled a list of self-proclaimed psychics and Ranpo would narrow down the options. A majority were not legitimate. Others were true, however their abilities were more about the future, past, or simply too weak. However, there was one name that Ranpo was certain of. (Y/N) (L/N). (Y/N) has a different practice of psychometry. "Shadow reading." However, her work was not solely focused on her job as a psychic investigator. She also owned a small café in a quiet part of town.

    With the right person to go to, Kunikida, Dazai, and Atsushi set out to meet her.

-> Chapter 1

[v3nusxsky]

Picking up the pieces

*Authors note~ just trying to get back into the swing of things now University is over for the summer. And of course sinful souls is long overdue an update. Queue the angsty chapter *

Trigger warnings~ very toxic lesso, lesso left after sex, abandonment issues (R), aftercare mentioned, heartbreak, depression, panic attack, bad memories, sub space (R) , lesso has a lot of self hate and a rough background

Each sob that forced its way from your exhausted frame broke the blonde principals heart. Leonora leaving would’ve hurt you no matter what, that she knew, but adding in the vulnerability you’d shown before she left meant you were near enough inconsolable. All Larissa could do was administer aftercare and gather you in her arms as your mind and body struggle to catch up. Your cries becoming more frequent as you mumbled phrases like, “why did she go?” “Was I bad mommy?” “I’m sorry” over and over, only worsening your emotional state to the point it was a struggle to force air into your lungs.

Small breaths clawed their way out of your throat as your emotions overflowed into pure panic. Instinctively, you began to panic more, pleading for the other woman to help you, needing more than what you could ever explain in this moment. They say people can die from heartbreak, and this right here would sum that up perfectly. You didn’t want to die, not really, but it seemed that the hold on your lungs just got tighter and tighter until your whole body flopped forward, eyes fluttering to a close, shutting your body down instantly to the soundtrack of Larissa’s terror soaked scream.

Never in her life and all her years at Nevermore had Larissa Weems seen someone in such a state as you were. The extreme emotional stress took a toll on your vulnerable state causing your blood pressure to drop drastically. Instinctively her training kicked in and she moved you gently into the recovery position and made sure to check the time and observe your condition. The longest couple of minutes of the blondes life would forever engrave themselves into her brain and heart.

Incoherent mumbles filled the room allowing the principal to release a breath she wasn’t aware of holding. You’d be okay. She was here for you no matter what. Haphazardly, you threw your hand out in search of the older woman, seeking her warmth and comfort as you roused back to consciousness. “I’m here baby. I’m right here. You’re okay” she reassured as your beautiful dark eyelashes fluttered before revealing your stunning eyes. “You stayed” came your sad little whimper, your eyes darting around the room, “she left didn’t she?”

No response would heal the damage this night caused but Larissa opted to redirect your focus on to her. She was here. Always would be. Leonora walked out yes, but the blonde couldn’t shake that she would be back. Maybe not now, maybe not next week, but she’d come back. You all needed one another in ways neither of you realised. Fate is a tricky beast, one that’s so intricate and beautiful yet holds a price. All you both could do was trust fate would work this situation out for the better. Using the hotel to spend a night away, soaking in eachothers comforting embrace and trying to understand what will happen now.

Everything was blank, until the memory of the door slamming triggering the club owner to break down into an onslaught of angry tears. How could she respond with such anger to you. Clearly red mist clouded her rational thinking and she reacted in such a manner. Yet she had no true memory of what occurred, obscured by blind rage. The rhythmic thumping of the bass vibrating the club seemed to get louder with every silent tear Lesso shred. As it came back in glimpses and flashbacks of how she’d treated the two women who clearly cared for her. Looking at Leonora you wouldn’t think she has ever been through anything rough in life. However, that’s completely far from the truth, underneath that hard shell is the small girl who was abandoned and shunned by the small village she lived in.

A glass of neat whiskey was cradled in her hand as the moment she left the hotel room replayed over and over. Each time something new came to her attention and allowed the self hatred to grow. She was truly evil. How could she? How dare she? She had to make it right if you or Larissa would ever look at her in that way again. Finally being done taking out her personal issues on others and pushing away probably the only good things in her life. She’d never be happy if she couldn’t accept the good in life. That simple realisation resulted in her whiskey being thrown against the door in frustration. How could she be so blind?

Larissa Weems is use to sleeping lightly, it comes with years of being on call for Nevermore students. So it was unsurprising she couldn’t sleep through the constant buzzing coming from your phone, then hers. Only then to be met with what was clearly a drunk Leonora showing remorse and begging for both the women to forgive her. Desperate for another chance. Only half the texts happened to be incoherent. Deciding she didn’t want you wake up yet she shot a text to your group chat stating one simple thing. “Drunk words are sober thoughts my dear”

A reply. She replied. Wait who? Larissa. Immediately Leonora began fumbling to press the call button and after two rings the blonde principal answered. From here she listened as the raven haired woman ranted and rambled out slurred apologise and promises to be better, ending the call with a promise to all talk tomorrow. For now sleep and a glass of water was in order.

Your feelings on the matter were definitely muddled when Larissa approached the subject. Yet with a phone call to lesso of your own you agreed to meet up as long as you had some proof the woman wouldn’t hurt either of you again, a goal to work too allowing you all to sort out your emotions and ideas of where to go from here.

[heartysworld]

The oath he gave || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

A/N: another request has been delivered bright and shiny! I'm sorry if there are mistakes,I shall fix them tomorrow. It is currently 2am here, I've been up since 5.30 am this morning and I really need my sleep! I hope you guys like this one and if you have any requests feel free to send them! Love ya <3

MASTERLIST

The Stark brides were known to be fruitful women, ever since the beginning of their lineage the women from the noble house of the North were known for their fertile wombs and high number of children they birthed. That, however, was not the case when it came to you, the younger sister of Cregan Stark, Lord of Winter. You have been married to the King's first son, Prince Aegon, for now half a decade, bit still there was no trace of an heir from you. At first, you though it was just the stress from switching environments,after all, a wolf can hardly adjust to the bright sun and warm air of King's Landing. Now, years later, you were well aware it was not the environment that prevented you from baring heirs. It was something else. Even the Queen herself was becoming worried and irritated. She made this match hoping that this Stark womb of yours would bring her son many children, Gods was she wrong.

Many visits to the Maester's tower, different types of tonics and treatments were also unsuccessful. Nothing seemed to work in your favor. Your husband wasn't in much of a hurry to become a father, thought. Everybody knew that by know. All Aegon wanted in life was his wine and whores, to be taken care of by servants and fed grapes by the woman he beds.

Day and night you prayed to the Gods to grant you one wish,just one, what you desired with your entire being. A small babe, a boy or a girl, it didn't matter, just for it to be healthy and happy.

All went in the opposite direction when the second son of the realm found himself tired of his brother's attitude towards his Lady wife,his future Queen. Ever since your betrothal was announced, Aemond have had his eye on you. There was something about those dark locks of yours that so beautifully framed your face and the pale skin that covered it. In his eyes you were otherworldly, the complete opposite to a woman from his kin.

Your adventures with the younger Prince began after he found himself in your chambers on night after one of the many feasts his cunt of a brother had thrown for Gods know what reason. You left the feast hall with tears in your eyes after your eyes caught your husband openly smothering a servant in his lap,his hands roaming around her body, diving underneath her skirts while his lips traced the skin of her neck and jawline.

You never expected the younger Prince to follow right after you, but he did, and he wasn't planning on leaving you alone.

The words he whispered in your ear that night remained forever embedded in your memory. You even found yourself remembering them whenever you missed your silver haired Prince.

"Let me gift you the one thing my brother failed to give you, my little wolf. Let me fill your womb with a silver haired babe that would make you mine. Not Aegon's,mine." Aemond whispered in your ear while his hands sneaked underneath your skirts, lifting them up.

"Aemond... it's dangerous...what were doing." You managed to whimper out before you felt the tip of his cock enter you slowly. His movements were agonizingly slow, making your hands get a tight hold of his back, sinking in your nails in the skin of his back so deep that you were sure blood was drawn.

"No one will know what we've done, my sweetness. I'll keep you away from harm's way until my last breath on this world. I promise you that." Your Prince said close to your ear while he was assaulting your entrance with all his power.

"As long as you're by my side, I'll give you whatever you want, my Prince. Just be with me." You answered just before he drew out another moan from you.

That faithful night was followed by many others, similar to it. Late at night, your beloved would find his way in your chambers and he would take you as many times as he wished in any position he desired. In those moments you shared with Aemond you felt like you were living your best life. As if you had no husband who was most likely bedding another whore in his separate chambers right now. As if Aemond was your real husband.

A couple turns of the moons passed in pure bliss, that was until you missed your monthly bleeding twice in a row. You hadn't even noticed it until the Queen herself didn't pay you a visit one morning, informing you of the news that one of her maids had delivered to her. There's been no sign of blood on your sheets for over two months now.

Alicent was overflowing with joy as she thought of her son finally siring a child with his wife. A joyous occasion for her family,one that required a big celebration.

When Aegon learned the news of your pregnancy, he didn't give the reaction a future father was expected to give. He hugged you briefly, for decency in front of his own mother, muttering a quiet "congratulations,my wife" before leaving to do Gods know what.

Aemond, however, was a different story. You've never seen a smile as big on his face ever before when you told him you were with child.

His hands immediately fell on your still flat stomach, where his son or daughter was to grow, swelling your stomach in the process, showing everyone that you were claimed.

"Your prayers were finally answered, my love. This child will be a lucky one to have a mother like yourself. Such a smart, beautiful and captivating mother. And I am a proud man to have such a beautiful woman by my side. Only if I could show the world you were mine." Aemond spoke,his forehead leaning against yours as you felt the warmth his body radiated, something that brought you an odd sense of comfort whenever he was close enough for you go feel it.

"If only..." You said, eyes closing shut at the painful reminder of your husband.

"I can only hope my brother will drive himself to an early grave, I wouldn't be surprised given the amounts of alcohol he consumes and the number of whores he sticks his cock inside. Gods know what type of diseases he had brought upon himself." Your beloved hissed,anger filling his chest at the thought.

"Do not think of such matters right now, dear. This is a joyous occasion,let us savor it for as long as possible. " You said before leaning in to peck his lips softly.

Aemond was absolutely smitten by your different ways of expressing your love and affection towards him. Pecks, light touches,soft smiles, all of these simple things made his chest tighten with a feeling he welcomed every time he was around you. Love.

As the moon came and went and your belly swelled, Aemond seemed to show more and more of his protective side. He followed you around wherever he could, claiming he was just looking after his good sister, since her own husband couldn't find the time to do so. Lord's and Ladies at court praised the younger Prince for his devotion to you and his future niece of nephew. It was rare that women were tended to during their pregnancies, if their husbands didn't care to do so,there was nobody else that would do it. In your case, however, it was different.

This child was going to grow as a future prince, an heir to the throne,but nobody was going to know the truth about its lineage. He or she were going to be their father's child, end of discussion.

Aemond was ready to slay every man or woman who dared disrespect the woman he so dearly loved and who carried his child. Late at night, at the dead of night where no soul was left awake,he would find his way in your chambers where he's whisper sweet words to your swollen stomach and feel the kicks of his child as a response to his voice. Sometimes you were awake, sometimes you weren't,but there was not even one night when Aemond missed to do that. It was his own, unique way of showing love and you loved that for him.

When the last moon before your labors arose, you and a few of your maids and guards made your way to Winterfell,the home you had missed so dearly. From the moment you found out you were with child you knew nothing would stop you from giving birth in the North, you were born there and so was going to be your child.

Aemond followed after you not long after, claiming he had important matters concerning the crown which he had to discuss with your brother, Lord Cregan.

When the pains finally started and the labor progressed,Aemond found himself kneeling beside your bed while you gripped his hand with all the strength you had while the Maester and midwifes encouraged you to push. Nobody questioned the presence of the Prince in the chambers, nobody wanted to know or was going to tell. What mattered in the room were only the mother and the babe, nothing or nobody else.

Hours later, when the sun was starting to rise again, the cries of a new life echoed around the quiet halls of your home. The small Prince announced his arrival on his own,with strong lungs and high pitched cries.

Your and Aemond's son, named Auserys, was a little black haired beauty,just like his mother. He seemed to have taken everything from his mother and nothing from his father. That was until the little thing opened his eyes to take his first blurry look on this words, in that moment beautiful violet eyes fell on the boy's father as the older Targaryen man was drowned by his son's stare.

"My love, he has your eyes." You said, a smile taking over your eyes as you admired your son who laid calmly in your arms. Looking up from his small body, you met the good eye of your beloved, a small tear had escaped his eye and was now rolling down his cheek and jaw.

Without saying a word,Aemond kneeled beside you,just as he did a couple of hours ago, before he spoke.

"I'm going to give my life up for you, my son. For you and for you mother,if needed. I shall love you as the priceless jewel that you are,Auserys. I give an oath today,may the Gods be my witnesses." Aemond spoke,his voice quiet as he tried not to disturb the babe that had finally calmed down after hours of crying loudly.

"And he shall love you as his father, Aemond. This little boy will grow up knowing who his father,his real father, is. He shall know what brave and honorable man his father is and grow up to be as brave and strong as you." You said, pulling one of your hands away from underneath your son's small body, taking a hold of one of Aemond's hands that was cold against your touch.

"I'm going to marry you, Y/N. I'll marry you and claim my son as it should be,and you as my wife. Nothing will stop me from being with my lover and son. " Aemond spoke with such confidence it send shivers down your spine.

He was tired of hiding, tired of seeing the miserable look on your face every time Aegon was near you, he could barely hold his rage whenever that cunt couched your belly, talking about how his heir laid in there. Nothing could stop a man in love from doing anything that would bring him what he desired. The things we do for love.

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