#this chp made me feel things

[bigbrainbiology]

"Who cares? I certainly don't." </3

[frmisnow]

ONCE AGAIN, MILAN ! - (nsfw)

summary. what happens when you and jungkook find yourselves once again in milan, this time with no business attached — well a hol' lotta sex for sure!

notes. guysss i changed my mind! there will be a fifth chapter because there is something that i want them to do- a refrence to chp. 2 + they need to get lil cheonsa duh?? ✶𝄞 if y'all are currently reading this, i'm probs already on vacation! so it'll take a minute, regardless, i hope everybody enjoys!!

warnings/includes. non idol! ceo! jungkook x f! employee! reader, smut described/implied multiple times!! (morning sex, very slight voyeurism / heavy flirting in a boutique, NASTY dirty talk) , drabble-ish (idk i just want them to be happy), cheonsa mention (we cheered)

the morning had begun in the best way possible. the bright italian sun on your face, the hotel sheets lightly crumpled, well- and jungkook.

jungkook who had woken you up with gentle kisses starting from your face, moving to your shoulder, all the way to your tits. kissed your sore little thighs too, because "they deserved it" after all the things they've gone through - sure.

he made love to you. moaned how beautiful you were along with some other sweet dirty nothings.

it was the kind of sex that made you feel cherished, worshipped even, as if all of his love was burried solely in his tip and he poured all of it into you, when you both came.

after spending what felt like hours wrapped up in each other, you had finally left the bed, your body still tingling from the morning’s activities. the first spot was a cat café, jungkook had read about it somewhere, thinking of you.

you both had spent a few hours in there, sipping on your respective lattes, playing with the little cats while their tiny paws brush against your legs. jungkook had his polaroid camera out at all times, clicking away.

showed the photos to you, told you how cute you looked, how the kitten in your lap looked just like you. how you both should get little cheonsa just like that.

closely after, you both took your time strolling through the streets, hands intertwined, ending with him pushing you into a high-end boutique. you smiled at his eagerness, it wasn't the first time he spend that black card of his on you.

jungkook handed you a dress, that reminded more of a whisper of fabric rather then a real garment, leaving little to the imagination. but you instantly nodded, that's what you liked about being with him; you didn't feel shy, there was no reason to. not with every single thing jungkook has said about your body this far.

the fitting rooms were large, they felt like rooms by themselves. jungkook sat outside patentily, tapping his legs. when you walked out you could clearly see him trying his absolute best not to reach out his hands, his pupils widening ever so slightly, taking a deep breath to compose himself, "turn around, angel, for me."

you did as he said when done, walking over to take a seat on his thigh while his fingers immediately moved to stroke your thighs, mumbling how pretty you were.

the way you were sitting, so close to him, he could make out your pretty panties peeking under the dress. black lace, with little bows he had gifted to you when you visited that lingerie place a few days ago, thinking of you in that store didn't make his growing buldge any better.

and you most certaintly made it even worse by whispering into his ear, how much you needed him and how wet you've been ever since this morning.

he bit his lip, your body was so painfully close and your skirt only rode up, gently pinching your thigh almost as a light warning, "remember where we are"

following you made a little pout, but mumbled a reluctant 'fine' anyway, making your way back into the fitting room.

next stop was a restaurant, you hadn't even noticed that it had gotten late by this time but jungkook took care of it, as always. how he managed to get a reservation at this place, you didn't quite know but you certaintly weren't complaining. he had pulled your leg over his some time ago, running his hands over the skin, the action innoccent in a way caring, like he was so sorry that you had to walk this whole day even though he had spoiled you shamelessly.

his fingers drew patterns and tiny circles over the skin, his face glowing from what was left of the sun through the large windows.

"i'm so happy" you smile, your fingers moving through his hair lightly.

jungkook's lips curl into a soft smile, just like yours, leaning into your touch, "i'm happy too, angel" his voice low and affectionate, "everday"

the evening went exeptionelly well, he talked you stupid about some of the other things he wanted to do, didn't mention business even once.

you both walked back to the hotel, you liked the city at night and had asked him to walk instead of taking a taxi. he didn't let go of your hand, swinging.

he walked back to the hotel with you, holding your hand tightly, it had been your wish to stroll back, you liked the city at night. it all reminded you of that night but it was different this time, it felt good not having wine in your system.

for once you felt like you actually could love jungkook, without alcohol, without your job, any other factor in your way. you could fuck him freely without having to blame the alcohol for it, after.

love is lust. that's why he pounds you into the large matress, tells you how bad you've been, how greedy you were.

he asked questions, dirty ones, you were way to brain fucked to understand dare to say even answer.

asks how much you'd like it, him filling you up everywhere, in the bathrooms, around his apartment, in the elevator, during your shifts at work, how he'd make you walk around feeling full, feeling dripping and sticky under your skirt.

describes how he'd call you into his office just so he could take you nicely on his desk. have you walk out later, nod to all your colleagues, like a good girl.

you barerly hear him and the words make you moan out are vile things that people only say when they are about to come. how you wanted to marry him, have him around you all times, how much you wanted him every minute.

you thought about how small you'd want the wedding to be, you, him and little kitten cheonsa. and you moan again, like a porn star.

and he responds, gripping your hips tighter, "i'd marry you tomorrow if you asked me to, hell i'd make a baby with you right this second if you wanted."

he let out a grunted string of 'please's though you weren't even sure what he was begging you for. your brain felt so incredibly mushy.

few seconds later, he filled you up, making a mess of you. he instantly reached out to touch your chin gently to look at you, "you okay, princess?"

you managed to nod but he shock his head, "words, i need to hear you, angel" it was a soft order, one you couldn't look away from.

so you reassure him that you are happy and so content, he seems to like your words, smiling. lifting you up and maneuvering you on top of him, still inside of you. his fingers trace over your bare back soothingly as he lights a cigarette with his other hand, just like that night.

and you smiled to yourself because you knew. you knew that this time when you woke up, you wouldn't have to leave, you would be able to look at his sleeping smile as long as you wanted. it was a comforting thought.

— cheonsa means angel.

🍓 tag list — @chansloverr , @marimarvelfan , @bxcndd , @1-in-abillion , @ahgasegotarmy116 , @copycat-namjesus , @malkaimoon , @geminiml95 , @taiwan0618 , @jungkookfics , @rrosiitas , @stuti2904 , @spiderlilyserendipity , @m00njinnie , @ririkookiemonster , @emptynessclub , @yoongznme , @snow-strawberry , @ttanniett

[jolapeno]

14. soft periwinkle

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter fourteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.8k chapter warnings: dad!frankie, luca appears. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. brief mention of frankie’s sobriety. an: thank you so much for being patient for this chapter, things are still odd at home but I've missed this pair so much <3

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Limbs stretching out, sheets rustling, your smile grows as your hand remains clasped around the phone as you bring it to your ear—

Good morning, baby.

It’s a sound that's so perfect. Just for you.

It's a sound that's so perfect. Just for you. A treat to enjoy each day—sometimes this way, sometimes in person. Still, it's almost cruel when a day starts so perfectly but doesn't end that way. You whisper your response back, even though there's no one in the house you need to be quiet for.

But it’s instinct, just like loving him is.

I love you, Frankie whispers—deep, a little gruff, voice muddled still with sleep. I love you, you repeat back, eyes staring at the photograph on your bedside table.

The one on his side of the bed. Because you have sides now.

You’d printed it the other week and chose the frame a week before that. Eyes flicking over photo-him, how his chin is raised, eyes closed, little lines in the corners from how much he’s laughing as one arm keeps you close, and he rests his other hand on the top of his abdomen.

You hadn’t taken it, Benny had. Sent it to you thirty minutes after he’d snapped it without the two of you knowing.

When will you be here? Frankie's honeyed voice asks, making you sit up from the pillows, push down the duvet. Once it’s delivered, I’ll head right to yours. I’ll be there soon, you whisper—hearing him groan as he stretches.

But soon hadn't needed to feel this long.

Busying yourself, mug in hand—warm against your palm—you lean in the doorway of the office he's built, noticing the time. How it rudely ticks on, widening the gap from the end of the call to the moment you'd hoped to be with him.

You’ve found yourself lingering in this doorway a lot lately, piecing it together, almost trying to recall what it looked like before he’d gotten his magic touch on it. The final touches are almost ready to be made, with the blinds due to be fitted soon.

And this morning, the sun has been trying to show, ready to drape the space in warm gold—little rays of light trying to break through clouds, show more than just spots of cyan between the fluffiest white.

Phone buzzing, you pull it from your back pocket, finding you’re the next stop. A thing you already knew from tracking it since you’d risen. Glancing at the little dot as it bounced around the streets as you checked your emails, showered, dressed and made coffee.

His coffee. Not able to go back now you’ve tried it.

The bubble of anxiety in your chest flares as you drain your cup. It doubles when you place it in the sink. Wiping your hands on a dishcloth, you linger close to the front window, hoping it’s perfect—knowing it needs to be.

Not that there’s any time to fix it if it isn’t.

Not even a backup plan made, a thing you half-kick yourself for as the truck pulls up outside. As your fingers flex and you dig your nails into your thighs—not wanting to open the door and wait, appear impatient; but also not wanting to spare any seconds from not being able to check it.

Not that you’d even needed to worry.

A thing that made you grin the entire drive over, keys jangling up his drive, pushing open Frankie’s front door, closing it behind you as you shout, “Luca?”

There’s a pause.

Then you hear him.

Excited bare feet slapping against the floor, thrill filling your chest, eroding all earlier worries as you move to the living room, kneel on the rug as the little boy runs to you dressed in a white onesie, various shades of dinosaurs at all angles covering it.

An outfit you remember Frankie telling you about the other week.

“Oh, well don’t you look cool?”

Grinning, spotting the smallest gap in his smile, remembering the panicked conversation Frankie had reenacted when he’d called Sam, as the man himself waves at you from the kitchen.

“You like?”

“Of course, you look so cool, Luca!”

“Cooler than Daddy?”

Flicking your eyes to Frankie, half-smirking. “Don’t tell him, but yes. Anyway, I’ve got something for you.”

Pointing at himself, he grins even wider—if that is at all possible. “For me?”

Crouching down, you slide onto your knees, before pulling open the paper bag that crinkles as you gently take out the white t-shirt inside, unfolding it, showing it to him.

And the look, as you expected, is priceless. His eyes widen, joy exploding in them as his finger gently, all but cautiously, scratches at the drawn image now ink-printed on. All you can do is watch, practically fixated on his little brown eyes tracing every element of the thing the two of you had huddled around your laptop over. How a few weeks ago, he had huddled close, dug his knees into your thigh and let you show him how he could arrange it all. His little finger guided by yours until the drawn image he’d crayoned into paper sat where he wanted on the screen, joined by the photo Frankie had found of Luca and Sam were in position. Wanna add some dinosaurs? you’d asked, aiding him in choosing cartoon dinosaurs and stars until he was happy.

“You made this! Can you believe it?”

Nodding, he continues to stare, finger-stroking at one particular photo on the t-shirt. “Mommy will like I thinks.”

“I think she’s going to love it. I bought some gift wrap—do you want to try and do it with me later?”

Nodding again, but more enthusiastically, his hands interlock in front of him. Doing a little wiggle as he stares, as he moves from the t-shirt to you.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you say. “I’m going to fold this up—just so we don’t get it dirty. And then later, we can wrap all the other things for Mommy before she picks you up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, watching him hesitate.

A beat occurs. The t-shirt slid safely back into its bag before you feel it—little arms, the familiar scent of laundry and the softness of new fleece. A warmth exploding in you that makes you almost well up, a desperation to cling a little tighter when your arms instinctively move around him, hugging him back as little breaths tickle your ear.

“Thank you, Rainy.”

Your face shifts, trying not to choke up at the nickname coming from his mouth as your eyes meet Frankie’s in the doorway—the biggest smirk on his face.

“You’re welcome, Luca,” you whisper, as the two of you release.

It’s not even a second, barely a moment to take in what has happened before Luca shouts (enthusiastically) that he has a new toy—running back off, barely aware of the size or significance of his hug.

Fingers wiping your eyes, giving Frankie a don’t start expression as he offers his hand out to you.

“Coffee?”

Laughing, letting him pull you up, you nod, “Please.”

Sliding your arm around his back, half walking and half being led to the kitchen, unsure how you could ever begin to describe the content feeling pulsing inside of you.

“You okay?”

Nodding, you wipe another tear, staring at him, before you press a kiss to his lips. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby.”

Have I told you how happy it makes me when I get the notification that you've posted and I find you looking so good?

Do I need to know how to build decking in Will's yard? No. Do I suddenly want you to dick me? Yes.

When did you start uploading hour-long videos?

Morales, I don't think you know how hot you look laying planks of wood.

Didn't know laying decking would get you so worked up.

Anything you do gets me worked up, keep up.

How worked up are you?

Worked up enough that I'm wondering if your lunch can be extended or whether I should go for an afternoon nap.

Your code for naps is broken. I know what that means now.

I trust you with my secret. Especially since you love my naps.

I do. But then I love everything about you.

Am I going for a nap alone, Morales?

No, but start without me, but do not finish.

Did you send flowers to my house?

The card saying Frankie didn’t give it away?

I got a card saying Maurice. Are you telling me your name is Maurice Francisco Morales?

Fuck. They must have misheard me when I called them at drop-off.

Well, they’re lovely, Maurice. I’m very excited to be wined and dined by you—are you sure 8pm isn’t too late for you?

Hilarious.

Do you have to be careful of what you eat? In case you’re up all night.

I’m hoping to be up all night anyway.

You mean with me right? Not with indigestion.

Have I told you how funny you are?

Not today. They are really pretty, Frankie.

I can’t wait to pick you up tonight.

I can’t wait to forget to put underwear on.

Fuck.

For the amount of time it’s taken for the two of you to get here, as soon as he holds the door for you, you can see it was worth it.

A thing you feel you should have known before now, when he’d showed up to pick you up with flowers in a nice shirt and a pair of slacks eyes widening at the sight of you—a scratchy, syllable broken fuck, you look beautiful leaving his lips as you try not to drag him into your home.

You only stop yourself from doing so because he’d insisted on treating this like a real date, and not just going out for food. Something you’d reminded him when his mouth slid over yours, when your spine met the front of your door and his knee tried to slot itself between your legs—hitching the fabric further and further up your knees. Chest heaving, already sure that the thin fabric between your legs is damp with want.

“If you do this now, you’ll ruin your surprise,” you say against his parted lips, eyes flicking up, finding pupils almost swallowing brown. “It’s a good surprise too. Lacy. New.”

You were still thinking of the groan he emitted when he told the hostess his name.

Tearing your eyes away from his, you sweep them slowly over the restaurant, the urge to tighten your fingers around his hand almost unbearable as your heart swells with a tender ache.

Because the restaurant is nice, really nice. It’s nothing short of warm, romantic—cosy. Each table is graced with a flickering candle, casting a gentle, golden glow that pirouettes on the walls. Fairy lights drape like delicate garlands over the bar area, the twinkling reflections like constellations in a night sky.

The deep red walls are decorated with local art, each piece telling a story with little tags beneath them highlighting the name and price of the creators as your gaze lingers on a particular painting. It’s a street, one a few blocks from here, Harold’s in the corner, nestled close to the edge, yet it holds its presence with quiet confidence.

By the time you’re seated, the sounds and murmurs of other diners have blended into a soft, melodic hum that mixes with the soft acoustic music. The air is tinged with rosemary with cooked dishes that flutter past on trays with swirling steam.

You can understand why it’s a place he’d wanted to bring you. Why there had been nothing but disappointment in his voice when he’d had to cancel all those months ago.

Your eyes gaze at him as he sits, dropping the stare when you brush your fingers over the leather menu—lips curling into your cheek at the sight of the candle flickering between the two of you.

“Big enough for you?”

Smirking, you bite down a laugh as you unfold your menu. “More than appropriately sized—you undersold yourself.”

Reaching across for you, your hand slides into his—finding itself home as his thumb slides over yours. Staring at the appetisers, the mains, it all sounds far too good, making it far too hard to choose. Eyes scanning over each, unsure what it is that you both want to eat or feel safe to eat—not sure if you’ve packed mints or if there’s a convenient way to brush your teeth between getting back and taking him to bed.

“I think I mentioned it, but you look good.”

“Oh, do I? I… I was not aware. Must have gotten lost in you pressing me against my front door.”

Snorting, he shakes his head, eyes lingering, something there etched and hanging.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You don’t buy it, gripping his hand a little tighter—tilting your head to ensure your eyes lock onto his. “Frankie,” you say softly. Silently letting tell me to be spoken wordlessly.

“Sometimes I can’t believe that you’re mine.”

Tightening your hold on his hand, ignoring how your neck is warm, your chest and ears, you let a smile broaden out. More so, when his palm twists, interlocking your fingers.

“Believe it, I'm not going anywhere.”

Your lips remain parted, more words wishing to fall, willing themselves to. But you stop, staring at his thumb as it circles over your knuckles.

“Not… even to the bathroom?”

Laughing softly, you squeeze his hand again, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. “Well, maybe for that. But I promise to come straight back.”

Smiling, it sliding into his cheek, he swallows before whispering okay.

“Can’t believe I met you because I decided to be spontaneous and try and dabble at DIY.”

Brushing his thumb over your fingers, he grins—that one which crinkles his eyes and makes his teeth show. “Can’t believe I gave such good service you stalked me a few days later.”

“I did not.”

“I don’t blame you Rainy, I look good in an apron.”

Shaking your head, exhaling loudly you lower your gaze to your menu. “Look better in just your hat, Morales.”

“Glad I’ve got it in the truck then.”

Just finished the project, I’m done. All signed off. No more Mr Grump. So, how’s the second grump in my life?

I’m not grumpy.

It’s okay that you are, your son is on vacation.

I ate chicken nuggets and waffle fries for dinner.

Oh, baby. But was it good?

Ridiculously good. No wonder the kid is mad for them.

Do you want me to come over? I know you have work early and I can bring my laptop, work from yours tomorrow while you’re out.

I’d like that. But only if you want to.

Yeah, of course I do! I get to use my key!

You still at home?

It shouldn’t make you smile, but it does.

Blooms over your face, makes you feel ridiculous, like you want to kick your feet out from under his blanket and shriek with joy. Because it’s simple; you know it’s a slip-up as he likely rushes from thing to thing.

I am. You/we are running low on groceries? Wanna go grocery shopping with me Rainy? Only if you let me push the cart.

He’d already called you on his lunch, told you how Harold had struggled with his breathing again, that he should be done in an hour, maybe two. I’m not going anywhere. Yeah? You’d only realised you’d been nodding when he called out your name and you quickly responded with a year.

In truth, you hadn’t left his home in four days.

A thing you’re beginning to feel increasingly guilty about. Like you’d moved in without as much as asking. Your things had found themselves even more with his, and deep down—later confirmed when you’d called a friend to catch up—you realised you didn’t even really miss your own place.

A thing which should feel odder than it does; a thing you turn over when you lock his door and head out to him as he pulls up to grab you. It turns over and over, almost folding in on itself by the time he’s parked up and exiting, still telling you about how he’d helped a man who knew even less than you—a thing he hadn’t known was possible.

It isn’t until he collects a cart, and wheels it to you with ease, do you realise he’s made you. Known right under your smile and humour that you’ve been thinking something.

“Tell me.”

Smirking, you exhale, walking in with him through the automatic doors as you’re both washed over in air-conditioning. “I’m wondering whether I go back to mine tonight for just underwear and clothes or…?”

Adjusting his curls under this hat, he steps behind you to avoid shoppers leaving the store. “Do you... want to go home?”

You’re thankful his hand doesn’t move from your back, allowing you to root yourself to it, letting him lead you to the fresh produce.

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, that’s all.” You watch as he grabs a plastic bag, glancing at you. An unreadable expression gliding across his face. “What?”

“Baby, if I could have my way, I’d never let you leave.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really fuckin' not.”

Swallowing, you feel a flutter. A spread of warmth slides out across your chest and through your lungs—the same one you feel when he looks at you for a little longer than normal. When his smile catches yours when you’re talking to Benny and he’s fetching drinks with Will.

Watching him tie the bag, placing it down carefully, he straightens back up.

“Do you want to go home tonight?”

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “I’m also worried if I stay for another week, like I want to, it’ll be really hard when I do go back.”

Snorting, he ties another bag—an assortment of shades beginning to make a pile in one corner. “So, for your sake—and mine—I should tie you to my bed?”

Glancing around, mouth open and eyes wide, you smirk. “Francisco.”

Shrugging, he grins, grabbing the end of the cart, leading you to another aisle—one quieter, fewer people.

“If I had brought my croissant pajamas, you’d want me to go home.”

Holding up two items to you, you point at one as he nods in agreement, shelving the other where he found it and adding the other to the cart. “Your croissant pajamas?”

Licking your lips, you pretend to be enamoured with some dried sauces. “Well, I have my sexy ones where I aim to be naked, then my cute-but-he-could-still-make-me-naked ones, and then I have my food ones.”

“The fact you’ve not shown me these before now upsets me.”

Laughing, you feel him tug on the cart, as you reluctantly follow. “Because you want to laugh?”

“No, because I think you’ll look hot in them and then I can see how many puns I can do before my mouth is between your thighs.”

He makes sure to look over his shoulder at the last part. A thing you both like and rather loathe all at once, especially here—in a place with people. Where you can smother your little tells, but likely not hide them well enough from him and the way he knows you so well.

“I do really like your cockiness.”

“Oh, Rainy. I know you like the first four letters of that last word.”

Nudging the cart into him, his laugh makes your chest bloom. Almost explode. A sound you’ve had the chance to experience in person more lately—a treat, a thing you’re not sure if you can so easily give back up.

“You fancy something in particular for dinner?”

“Not sure—we should buy dinosaur-shaped nuggies, though.”

Adjusting his hat, he comes to a stop before some frozen doors. “I can grab those before Luca is back—”

“For us, Morales.”

Narrowing his eyes, Frankie slowly tilts his head. “You been eating dinosaur nuggies, Rainy?”

“I cannot confirm or deny. But I will say there’s not an age on dinosaur nuggies.”

“Fuck, you have! You like dinosaur nuggets.”

Shrugging, mirroring him from before, his gooey smile slides up into one cheek—making that dimple appear, making it hard not to reach out and brush it with your finger and then your lips.

“We should buy some granola—maybe fruit? Be adult-like.”

Rocking his head from side to side, he shrugs, nodding,

“Hey,” you say, passing some cakes—large ones, lots of frosting, “It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?”

Tearing his eyes from a shelf, thinking, he slowly nods.

“And, does that mean it’ll be your sixth year too?”

Fingers sliding over the cart handle, waiting, not pushing, he slowly grabs a box, placing it down with the other things, before moving closer around the cart. “You remembered?”

“Well, I love you, Morales. What’s important to you is important to me.”

Nodding, he scratches at his arm, momentarily looking lost in the cereal aisle. Like he's shrunk, lost. The shadow of his smile having faded, almost flattening to a thin line.

“Frankie?” you ask, watching in real-time as he comes back to you.

Like the world goes from black and white to colour.

“Do you... want to do anything for it?”

“My birthday?”

Smiling, you look down briefly before meeting his gaze. “No, your six years.”

Shrugging, he picks up a box, stares at the back of it, likely pretending to read it. To be in awe of it.

“What if I said I wanted to do something for it? To celebrate you. Would that be too much?” You wait a beat, watching him re-shelve the box, and his Adam's apple bobs in his neck. “It can be small. Just us. I can even just get you a cake, but no candle, of course.”

Snorting, he runs his palm along his chin. “Of course.”

“Think about it. Let me know,” you say, pushing the cart closer, nudging him with the end of it as he flicks his eyes to you.

And then it's slow, cautious.

Begins with a gradual lift of his knuckles under your chin when he's beside you, tipping your mouth up to meet his—and you swear you taste a thank you on your lips as he kisses you. As he places another, and another. Your hand slips to his lower back, feeling yourself want to turn and momentarily forget how public the two of you are, when you feel him ghost his mouth over yours, eyes slowly opening, practically drinking you in.

“Don’t go home just yet,” he says, your lips rolling together, fingers slowly splaying out on his back. “Unless you want to go, that is.”

“I don’t.”

“Then stay.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t step back, not immediately, whispering an okay himself as his eyes flick from one of yours to the other. “Please bring your food pajamas.”

“You gonna promise me you’ll still love me?”

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, sliding your other hand from the cart as he steals it from under you, he grins. “Forever and ever.”

“I might hold you to that.”

He just grins. A knowing grin.

You find you don't hate the look one bit.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

we're almost to the end of this pair, and that hurts my soul. i'm going to miss them so much. thank you for all the support until now, and going forward. i adore each of you for coming along this ride with me, even if all i gave you was hardware frankie and some texts.

[callsigns-haze]

His Shadow: Chp 6

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences.

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of their apartment, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The soft light highlighted the simple, yet cozy space they had made their own—a sanctuary that was their little world, hidden from the eyes of everyone else. Knox was still asleep in his crib, his tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, blissfully unaware of the tension building between his parents.

YN stood near the window, her back turned to Azriel, arms crossed over her chest. Her posture was stiff, her shoulders tense as she stared out at the city, her reflection barely visible in the glass. Azriel could feel the frustration radiating off her in waves, and he knew that this conversation was inevitable. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

He had taken the week off, needing to be with his family, needing to be with her. After overhearing Cassian and Mor talk about their little spying expedition on YN, he had made the decision quickly, without hesitation. But now, as he watched YN’s back, he wondered if he had acted too impulsively.

“Why did you do it, Azriel?” YN’s voice broke the silence, cutting through the stillness of the morning. It was calm, but there was an edge to it—one that Azriel recognized all too well. She was holding back, trying to keep her emotions in check, but he knew she was upset. “Why did you take the week off?”

Azriel let out a slow breath, his wings rustling slightly as he stepped closer to her. “I wanted to be here with you and Knox,” he answered, keeping his voice steady. “After everything that’s happened, I thought you could use the support. I wanted to make sure you both were safe.”

She turned around to face him, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else—something that looked a lot like hurt. “Safe?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “Azriel, we’re not in immediate danger. You’re acting like I can’t take care of myself and our son without you hovering over us.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Azriel replied quickly, though he knew that wasn’t entirely true. He was protective—maybe too protective, especially now that their lives were more complicated than ever. He crossed the distance between them, his hands reaching out to take hers, but she stepped back, putting more space between them.

“Isn’t it?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “You’re here because you don’t trust me to handle things on my own. You’re here because you think you need to shield us from everything—even from your own family. But Azriel, I can’t live like this. We can’t live like this, constantly looking over our shoulders, constantly hiding.”

Her words hit him hard, and he knew she was right. But it didn’t change the fact that he felt this deep, unrelenting need to protect her, to protect Knox, to be there every moment in case something went wrong. The thought of losing them—of anything happening to them—was more than he could bear.

“YN, I’m not trying to smother you,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with the desperation he felt. “I just… I need to be sure. After what happened yesterday, after knowing they were watching you—I can’t just leave you both alone and hope everything will be fine.”

Her eyes softened slightly at his words, the anger ebbing away, replaced by a sadness that made Azriel’s heart ache. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as if trying to gather her thoughts before she spoke again.

“Azriel,” she said more gently, “I understand why you feel the way you do. I do. But this… this isn’t sustainable. We can’t keep living in fear, can’t keep reacting to what might happen. We need to trust each other, trust that we can handle things—even when you’re not here.”

Azriel’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He knew she was right, but it was so hard to let go of that instinct, the one that told him he needed to be there every moment to protect them. He had been living on the edge for so long, constantly aware of the dangers lurking in the shadows, that he didn’t know how to step back and just… breathe.

“I do trust you,” he said finally, his voice rough with emotion. “I trust you more than anyone, YN. But I’ve spent centuries living in a world where letting your guard down, even for a moment, can cost you everything. I’m sorry if I’m overbearing—I just can’t lose you. I can’t lose our son.”

YN’s expression softened further, the tension in her posture easing slightly as she stepped closer to him. She reached out, her hand resting against his chest, right over his heart. “You won’t lose us,” she said firmly, looking up at him with a gaze full of determination. “But you have to let us live, Azriel. We can’t keep hiding in the shadows like this. I need you to believe that we can handle this—together.”

Azriel closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as he absorbed her words. She was right, of course. YN had always been strong, far stronger than he sometimes gave her credit for. And Knox—he was still so small, but Azriel knew his son would grow up to be just as strong. They didn’t need him to shield them from the world; they needed him to stand beside them, to be their partner, not their protector.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, opening his eyes to meet hers. “I’ll try to do better. I promise.”

She smiled at him then, a small but genuine smile that made the tightness in his chest ease just a little. “That’s all I ask,” she said softly, her hand moving up to cup his cheek. “We’re in this together, Azriel. Always.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, the simple act grounding him, reminding him of what truly mattered. “Always,” he echoed, his voice filled with a quiet resolve.

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s presence, the tension between them slowly dissipating. Outside, the sun continued to rise, bathing the room in warmth and light, as if to remind them that there was still hope, still a future to be had, as long as they faced it together.

In the crib beside them, Knox let out a small whimper, his tiny wings fluttering as he stirred from his sleep. YN pulled back from Azriel with a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling with affection as she turned to their son. “Looks like someone’s awake,” she murmured, moving over to the crib to pick Knox up.

Azriel watched her, his heart swelling with love as she cradled their son in her arms. Knox blinked up at her, his small mouth forming a perfect little ‘O’ as he looked between his parents. Azriel stepped closer, wrapping an arm around YN’s waist as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Knox’s head.

“We’ll be okay,” YN said quietly, more to herself than to him, as she rocked Knox gently in her arms. But Azriel heard the conviction in her voice, the belief that they would find a way through this—together. And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe it too.

---

River House was alive with activity as the Inner Circle gathered in the spacious sitting room. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting warm pools of light across the room’s plush furniture. Cassian was sprawled in one of the armchairs, his wings half-draped over the sides, while Rhys sat opposite him, leaning casually against the backrest of a couch. Mor and Feyre were nearby, quietly sipping their tea, and Amren was perched on the window sill, her sharp eyes watching everyone with mild disinterest.

As usual, the meeting started casually, with updates on Velaris, news from the courts, and the usual banter. But something was different this morning, an undercurrent of curiosity running through the group. Azriel’s absence was becoming more noticeable, especially given his sudden declaration of taking a week off—a rare occurrence.

"So, does anyone else find it weird that Azriel's taking a week off?" Cassian said, breaking the silence. He shifted in his seat, his brow furrowed with a mix of concern and confusion. “I can’t remember the last time that happened. Not without a reason.”

Rhys’s violet eyes flickered with amusement, but there was a hint of curiosity as well. "It’s not like him," he admitted, his voice smooth. "Azriel rarely takes time for himself. He’s always working, always looking for the next mission or lead. But a whole week off? That’s new."

Mor nodded in agreement, her lips quirking in a small smile. “Maybe he finally realized he needs a break,” she said with a light laugh. “Even shadowsingers need to recharge once in a while.”

Feyre glanced at Rhys, her brow arched in thought. "He didn't seem like anything was wrong the last time I saw him. Do you think something’s going on that he’s not telling us?"

Cassian sat up straighter, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You know how secretive he can be. But a whole week off? Something doesn’t add up.”

"Maybe he met someone," Mor suggested, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “Maybe there’s a secret lover involved, and he’s just been keeping it from us.”

At that, Cassian snorted, his wings shifting behind him as he chuckled. "Azriel? Keeping a secret lover from us? That sounds about right, actually. He’s good at hiding things.”

Rhys tilted his head, a slight frown creasing his brow. “He’s been acting strange lately. Not just with the time off, but before that too. More secretive than usual. And those late-night disappearances…”

Feyre leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Do you think he’s hiding something serious?”

Rhys let out a thoughtful hum, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest of the couch. “Could be. Azriel’s not one to share things unless it’s absolutely necessary. If something’s bothering him, he’ll bury it deep.”

Mor crossed her arms, glancing between Rhys and Cassian. “Do you think it has to do with the place we went to in the Hewn City? The woman—YN—she seemed close to him. Could it be related?”

Rhys’s eyes darkened for a moment, as if recalling the encounter at the pleasure house. “Possibly. He did seem more… comfortable there than usual. And she did say something about going back after maternity leave. Perhaps Azriel’s more involved in her life than we thought.”

Cassian shifted, his expression turning more serious. "You think he's involved with her?"

"It’s possible," Rhys said slowly. "But Azriel’s careful. If he’s keeping something from us, it’s for a reason."

Amren, who had been silently observing the conversation, finally spoke, her voice dry and laced with boredom. “Whatever it is, he’ll tell you when he’s ready. No point in speculating about his private life.”

Mor glanced at Amren, then back at the others. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on things. If he’s tangled up in something, we should know. Especially if it affects us or the missions we’re planning.”

Rhys gave a slow nod, his gaze flicking toward the window as if he were already piecing things together in his mind. “Agreed. But we give him space. Azriel’s earned that much.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. “Yeah, but if he disappears again, I’m dragging him back here myself.”

The group shared a small laugh, but the lingering tension remained. Azriel’s absence weighed on them more than they were willing to admit, and the mystery of his sudden break gnawed at their collective curiosity.

As the conversation lulled, Rhys’s gaze turned distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. He could sense there was more to this story than what met the eye. Something was going on with Azriel—something deeper than just taking time off.

But for now, they would wait. And watch.

---

YN walked into the pleasure home, the familiar scent of incense and low hum of conversation filling the air. She had grown accustomed to the atmosphere over the years—the darkened rooms, the hushed voices, the hidden glances exchanged between patrons and the workers. Tonight, though, something felt different. Her nerves were on edge, her mind still unsettled by the feeling that she was being watched the other day at the market.

As she adjusted her black silk dress, ensuring it clung to her in all the right places, she pushed those thoughts aside. She had work to do, and there was no room for distractions. She glanced around the room, scanning the faces of the patrons lounging in their seats, drinks in hand and their eyes on the stage where the night's entertainment had just begun.

And then she saw them.

At one of the booths near the back, sitting comfortably as if they belonged, were Rhysand and Cassian. But this time, they weren’t alone. Their partners, Nesta and Feyre, were with them. The sight of the group made YN pause for a split second, her breath catching in her throat as recognition hit her. It was them—she had felt their presence before. They were the ones who had been following her at the market just the day before.

She played it cool, forcing a neutral expression onto her face as she straightened her posture. Whatever they were doing here, she wasn’t going to let them know that she had figured it out. She was already too involved in the tangled mess of Azriel’s secrets, and the last thing she needed was to attract more attention from his friends. Especially Feyre and Nesta. If they even had the faintest idea about her connection to Azriel, things could go downhill fast.

With a calm smile plastered on her face, she made her way toward their table. Her heart raced beneath her composed exterior, but she kept her movements steady, her steps measured and graceful as she approached the group.

"Good evening," YN greeted them, her voice smooth and professional as she came to a stop by their table. "What can I get for you tonight?"

Rhysand, ever the picture of charm and elegance, offered her a polite smile. His violet eyes met hers briefly, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe suspicion. Cassian leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually over Nesta’s shoulders, while Feyre, sitting next to Rhys, regarded YN with an air of quiet observation.

“We’ll start with a round of drinks,” Rhys said, his tone casual, but YN could feel the weight of his gaze on her, as if he were sizing her up. “Something strong.”

YN nodded, jotting down the order even though she didn’t need to. She had memorized the menu long ago. “I’ll be right back with that.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, her mind racing as she made her way to the bar. It was no coincidence that they were here again, especially after what happened at the market. Rhys and Cassian had come to the pleasure home with Azriel once before, and now this was their third visit in such a short time. It couldn’t be a casual night out—it had to be something more.

Harvey, her bartender friend, raised an eyebrow as she approached. "You okay?" he asked quietly, noticing the tension in her shoulders.

YN forced a smile, shaking her head slightly. "Fine. Just...unexpected company," she muttered as she handed him the drink order. Her mind was spinning with questions, but she knew better than to discuss anything in the open.

As Harvey prepared the drinks, YN leaned against the bar, trying to steady herself. She had to stay calm, keep up the act. If Rhysand and the others were here for information, she couldn’t afford to give anything away. Not about herself, not about Azriel. Not about Knox. They still had no idea about her and Azriel, and she intended to keep it that way.

After a few minutes, Harvey slid the tray of drinks toward her, and YN lifted it carefully, balancing it in her hands as she returned to the table. She felt their eyes on her as she approached, but she kept her expression neutral, her smile practiced and professional.

"Here you go," she said, setting the drinks down in front of them. She noticed how Feyre’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to place her.

"Thanks," Cassian said, his voice gruff but polite. Nesta glanced up at YN briefly before turning her attention back to her drink, uninterested in the small talk.

As YN set the last glass down in front of Rhys, she caught his gaze again. His expression was calm, unreadable, but she could sense the questions lurking beneath the surface. She had been in enough rooms with men like him to know when someone was trying to figure out a puzzle—and tonight, she was the puzzle.

Before anyone could say anything further, YN gave them a small nod and turned to leave, her pulse quickening as she walked away. She had to be careful now. Whatever game they were playing, she was already too deep in it. And with Azriel out on his week off, the last thing she needed was for his inner circle to find out about Knox—or their relationship.

As she walked back toward the bar, she allowed herself a moment to breathe. They were watching her, but she had survived worse. She just had to keep her head down, play her part, and hope that they wouldn’t dig too deep.

But the nagging thought wouldn’t leave her: Why were they here again? And what, exactly, were they hoping to find out?

YN stepped through the door of their small apartment, her body aching from the weight of the day. Exhaustion clung to her like a second skin, and her mind raced with endless thoughts—who had been spying on her, why the Inner Circle kept showing up, and what it all meant for her and Azriel. She had kept her cool at the pleasure house, but the constant pressure of pretending everything was normal while being watched was wearing her down.

The familiar warmth of home wrapped around her as she shut the door quietly behind her, but the tension in her body refused to ease. She dropped her bag on the floor, her gaze flicking to the couch where Azriel sat, barefoot and bare-chested, with only a pair of loose sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He was leaning back, a book resting in his hands, though the moment she entered, his golden-brown eyes were on her, sensing her frustration without needing to ask.

“Rough night?” Azriel asked softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. He closed the book and set it aside, his attention fully on her.

YN gave a small nod, too tired to speak. The weight of everything pressed down on her, making her feel like she could collapse right there in the doorway. Her shoulders slumped, and Azriel immediately got up, moving toward her with a fluid grace that belied the exhaustion she knew he carried too.

He reached for her gently, his hands sliding under her shirt, lifting it over her head in one smooth motion. The cool air hit her skin, but it wasn’t the chill that made her shiver. It was the way Azriel’s hands worked with such care, as though she were made of something fragile, even though he knew better than anyone that she wasn’t.

When he unclasped her bra and slid it off her shoulders, YN let out a long, shaky breath. Azriel’s presence was grounding, his hands firm yet tender as he guided her to the couch. He sat down first, pulling her with him until she was lying against his chest, her legs draped over his as she settled into his warmth. The steady rise and fall of his breathing was the only sound in the room for a moment, and YN could feel some of the tension in her body begin to melt away.

But she still felt overwhelmed—by the spying, by the uncertainty, by the weight of the past few days.

Azriel knew. He always did. His calloused hands moved to the scars on her back, the ridged lines that traced where her wings had been brutally clipped when she was only nine years old. It had been a trauma that never left her, not in all the years since. Even though she had healed, those scars still carried memories she couldn’t shake. And Azriel knew how much they haunted her.

His fingers brushed lightly over the scars, tracing the familiar pattern as he began to massage the tense muscles beneath. The pressure was just enough to ease the knots that had formed in her back, and YN couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped her lips. He always knew how to take the pain away—both the physical and the emotional.

"Talk to me," Azriel murmured, his voice a quiet invitation. "What happened?"

YN closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his body and the soothing motions of his hands carry her for a moment. “I think they’re watching me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I recognized Rhys and Cassian at the pleasure house tonight, and... they’ve been following me. I know it.”

Azriel’s hands paused briefly before continuing their gentle rhythm. He didn’t ask who “they” were—he didn’t need to. He had already suspected the Inner Circle’s involvement, though hearing it confirmed made his chest tighten.

“I’ll take care of it,” he promised quietly, his voice steady and unwavering. “You don’t have to worry about them.”

But that wasn’t the only thing gnawing at YN. There was more—the weight of being watched, the fear that their secret might be exposed. The fear that her past, her clipped wings, her life at the pleasure house, and everything she had built with Azriel and Knox would come crashing down.

“They don’t know about us, about Knox,” YN continued, her voice trembling slightly as she curled in closer to Azriel. “But if they keep following me... I’m scared they’ll find out.”

Azriel’s arms tightened around her, pulling her flush against his chest. His lips pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, a silent reassurance. “They won’t,” he murmured, his breath warm against her hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you or Knox. You’re both safe.”

YN buried her face against his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming the storm inside her. She believed him—she always did. Azriel had been her anchor, her protector, the one person who had stood by her when no one else would. But even with his promises, the weight of everything still felt like too much.

His hands continued to work at the knots in her back, his fingers gentle yet firm, easing the tension from her muscles. YN let out a shaky breath, feeling her body slowly relax under his touch. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink deeper into the safety of Azriel’s arms, the familiar scent of him wrapping around her like a cocoon.

For a few moments, it was just them—their shared silence, the unspoken bond between them. Azriel’s hands never stopped moving, soothing the aches and pains that had built up inside her. His presence was her sanctuary, the one place she felt truly at peace.

And for now, that was enough.

Let me know if you'd wish to be tagged! Comments and reblogs are really appreciated!

There's three more chapters left and I think I might make a sequel but not with the mmc you think it is.... But the drama unfolds in the next chapter

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 5 Nevermore

Chp. 5 Summary: It's hard to understand why everything feels so right. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, language, heavy kissing, unprotected piv sex, semi-rough sex, creampie, praise kink, (kinda) size kink, aftercare, fluff and a LOT of angst, light banter, lots of emotions, mentions of past trauma, brief flashback of trauma, another cliffhanger (sorry) A/N: Well, if you're here, I hope you're prepared for what's coming. A HUGE shoutout to @loonmartell for helping co-conspire the trajectory of this story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it as always <3

Masterlist | Ko-fi

I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in—

“Miss Smith?” 

Your head jerked up at the sound, and the pencil you were drawing circles with fell against your desk. Bradley, one of your students, was standing at the edge of your desk with his test in hand.

“Sorry about that, sweetie,” you smiled, extending a hand. “Thank you.”

Bradley eyed you curiously before turning and skipping back to his desk. You dragged a hand over your face, wanting to crawl into the furthest corner of the world and never be seen again. Beth’s words had been plaguing you for days since you called her. Over and over again, they annihilated your thoughts, a constant broken record that you couldn’t shut off. You still had your nightly calls with Joel, talking past midnight and falling asleep together, but you kept making excuses not to see him. 

“I’ve got lesson plans to make,” you lied.

“I’ll help,” Joel had offered.

“You’re a distraction.”

“I ain’t that bad,” he huffed.

The next night, you lied and said you were going out with Maria, which was an even worse lie since you were avoiding her at all costs. Telling Beth the news was one thing, but telling Maria was another matter. She was nosey and a bit too loud-mouthed to trust. The last thing you wanted was for the entire faculty to know your dirty secrets. Joel had to remain a secret—at least for now.

It’s not like you wanted to avoid Joel; you were just scared. You were not ready for this new territory, and if Beth was anywhere near correct in her assumptions, it only made you want to shy away more. The only problem was parent-teacher conferences this week, meaning you’d have to see Joel and Sarah…together.

The class bell rang, and your free period between classes began. You dropped your head on the desk and took a few deep breaths, trying to wrangle some semblance of calm back into your body. The final class of the day would be Sarah’s, and you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to see her. The blaring reminder that her dad had fucked you sore over the weekend still hung over your head, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for it. How was your fall break, Sarah? Oh yeah, mine was great. Your dad fucked me so hard I ended up having a complete breakdown. 

Fuck. 

You wanted the day to be over. 

The free period went by much faster than you wanted, and as you watched the next slew of kids take their seats, you made a conscious effort not to stare at Sarah as she walked in. She wore her usual smile, the impression of her dimples digging into her cheeks. Some wild thought popped into your head that you had no time to recover from: if you and Joel went any further, God help you, you’d be Sarah’s step-mom one day. Your stomach rolled with nausea as you tried to will those thoughts away. Joel wouldn’t stick around that long; you were a lost cause. There was no chance that would happen. Right? 

Clearing your throat, you rose from your desk and made your way over to the projector to set up the lesson for the day. Since the school year was nearing Halloween, you decided it would be fun to teach Edgar Allen Poe, completely forgetting you had chosen “The Raven”—which was about losing someone. This would have a bite to it that you weren’t ready for.

“Okay, everyone,” you announced. “Did we all finish the reading assignment this week?”

There were a few nods and murmurs of agreement, and you quickly shifted to the first few slides of your presentation. 

“Alright, so who can tell me the overall theme for Poe’s ‘The Raven’?”

Georgia, one of your top students, shot her hand up without a beat.

“Yes, Georgia?”

“It’s about his grief for losing Lenore,” she answered.

“Good,” you smiled. “Can anyone tell me what other theme the poem contains?”

“Madness!” Another student chimed in, causing an uproar of laughter amongst the students.

“Okay, okay, settle down. Very good, you guys.”

You switched to the next slide, staring blankly at the words typed out. Lenore is gone forever. Something struck you as you silently read it, realizing you weren’t too far off from Poe in his grief. Although Bennett wasn’t dead, he wasn’t coming back. That fact hadn’t hurt as deeply throughout the last few weeks, especially with Joel around, but it still threw salt in the open wounds still scattered over your heart. 

“In stanza two,” you cleared your throat. “In stanza two, Poe refers to Lenore as ‘nameless,’ which can imply that she has died, and he’s now consumed with grief. Where else did you guys find his grief prominent?”

Georgia quickly raised her hand again, and you motioned for her to speak. 

“In stanza four, he talks about his dreams, which I think he means he’s dreaming of her to return to him. But if she’s dead, there’s no way she’s going to come back,” Georgia said.

Fuck. You felt the sting of tears rim your eyes and briefly paused to gather your bearings. Bennett left. He left, and you had spent years dreaming he would return. 

��Good,” you choked out.

You glanced around the room, your eyes connecting with Sarah’s. It took all your strength not to break down and cry as she studied you with the same concerned furrow in her brows as her dad would do. 

Clicking to the next slide, you exhaled, focusing on the following theme to discuss. Madness. 

“Now, with the theme of madness, where do we see this begin? Obviously, the dreams can be interpreted as his descent into madness, but what else do we find?” You asked. 

To your detriment, Sarah was the one to raise her hand.

“Sarah,” you sighed, nodding.

“It’s the raven,” she said plainly. “The raven is what drives him mad.”

“What does he do to drive Poe mad?” You questioned.

“The raven only says one word,” she explained. “And that word drives him mad until the end of the poem.

“And why does it drive him mad?”

Sarah shifted in her seat, looking around at her classmates before responding.

“Because it’s the answer Poe doesn’t want to hear. Poe doesn’t want to be reminded that Lenore is dead, but that’s the only response the raven will give.”

You were swaying in place, trying to hold yourself together as the memories started ricocheting back into your mind. Now wasn’t the time to collapse, not in front of twenty students staring at you, confused and concerned. You only responded with a nod and flipped the projector off.

“Good job, you guys. Now, does anyone have any questions on this unit? Any questions about the stanza format or the themes?”

Sarah raised her hand again.

“Did his madness kill him?” She asked.

“Who?”

“Poe.”

“Oh, um, no. Well, it’s a mystery, really. Some people say he died of delirium, so, I guess, madness. But other people speculate he drank himself to death.”

The class grew morbidly quiet, which made it harder for you to continue. No one else spoke up after Sarah, so you resorted to handing out the quiz and sinking back into your desk chair.

One by one, the students came up to turn in their quiz, and you averted your gaze each time with a nonchalant ‘thank you.’ When the final bell finally sounded through the room, you hardly had the energy to wave goodbye. 

Sarah was the last to leave, and that same concerned look lingered on her face as she shuffled out. 

That night, you didn’t pick up the phone when Joel called. You stared as it rang repeatedly, watching the light fade from the screen when the ringing stopped. You buried your head under the covers and tried to sleep, but then the nightmares started.

You woke up to your alarm, hyperventilating and drenched in sweat. Squinting at the morning sun streaming through the blinds, you grabbed your phone to check the time. Your fingers froze as you read the screen.

Seven missed calls from Joel

Two voicemails from Joel

With shaky fingers, you pressed play on the first voicemail.

“Hey baby, it’s me. I just wanna make sure you’re okay. I’m hopin’ you’re just asleep, but if you’re up, please call me.”

Then you played the next.

“Baby, it’s me again. I miss you, and I’m worried ‘bout you. Please don’t shut me out, okay? I just wanna hear your voice and hear ‘bout your day. If you don’t wanna talk, that's okay. I understand. Just please lemme know you’re alright. I’ll drive my ass out to you if I need to just to make sure you’re okay. Call me when you get this. G’night, baby.”

You dug your knuckles into your eyes to try and force the tears back. Last night, you had the worst of the nightmares: the memory of something you tried to forget. You hadn’t touched that memory in so long. It was just the brutal realization you were truly at fault for everything with Bennett. No matter how badly you wanted to blame him, it was always your fault. 

Glancing back at your phone, you rechecked the time: 7:35. Fuck, you were running late, and you really didn’t want to call Joel back right now. At least not right now. You’d muster the energy and strength to do it later, but you needed to gather yourself and get ready for work right now. Tossing off the sweat-slick sheets, you rushed into the bathroom and quickly showered. You couldn’t bother to put makeup on, so you opted to go without it and found a simple dress to wear. It was still in the high eighties in Austin, and a dress was the easiest option for the day. 

Scrambling for your purse and keys, you ran to the garage to start your car and head to the school. 

It wasn’t until you pulled into your parking spot that you realized you left your phone on the nightstand. 

“Okay, what’s going on?” Maria questioned, sipping her lukewarm coffee. 

She had nagged you into spending your free period in her classroom, demanding that you tell her everything that you had been withholding. You sat on the edge of her desk, your dress flowing over your knees as you stared out her class windows. 

“Nothing, Maria,” you lied. 

She said your name sternly, forcing your eyes to snap to hers. Her usual chipper demeanor was replaced with that ‘mother’ look, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed. 

“Something is going on,” she pressed. “Could have something to do with Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. 

“You did it, huh?” She raised a brow. 

You exhaled heavily, nodding your head—no point in lying now. 

“We talked on the phone the entire break, and when I got home, he insisted on taking me on a date. Then one thing led to another… and yeah, we had sex.”

Maria squealed, clapping her hands and grinning wide. You stared at her blankly, unamused by her reaction to your words. 

“This isn’t a good thing, Maria,” you said pointedly. 

“Why wouldn’t it be? You’re finally putting yourself out there! Oh my god, was it good?” 

“It was,” you sighed. “It was good—really good. He’s so sweet and caring.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” she interjected. 

“But I can’t let it go any further,” you finished. 

Maria leaned forward and placed her hand on your knee. 

“Does he make you happy?” She asked softly. 

“So fucking happy, Maria. I hate it.”

“You deserve to be happy, sweetie. That’s all I’ve been saying for years, and now you have it! Don’t force it to fail before it even begins. I saw the way he looked at you at the father-daughter dance. You can’t fake that.”

“I know. I know. I just—ugh,” you slid off the desk with a groan. “He’s too good for me. I’m still trying to get over Bennett and everything that happened. He doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of all my misery. That’s not fair to him.” 

You were pacing around the room, your eyes darting between the science posters hanging along the walls of Maria’s classroom. You heard her desk chair scrape against the floor as she approached you. She gripped you by the shoulders and leveled you with a heavy stare, but her eyes remained soft. 

“He’s still around, right? I don’t think he’s going anywhere, sweetie. If anything, I think he’s in it for the long haul.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you leaned into her, letting her wrap you up in a motherly embrace. She rubbed circles against your back, hushing you as you wept quietly. 

The rest of the day passed by in a numbing blur. You packed your things quietly and headed to your car, ready to drown yourself in a glass of wine. 

Joel’s truck was parked in front of your house as you turned the corner onto your street. His tall figure was leaning against the driver’s door; his eyes focused on your car as you pulled into the driveway. You inhaled sharply before putting your car in park, mentally preparing yourself for whatever anger he might unleash. 

You barely shut the car door before Joel had his arms around you, tugging you into a warm embrace. You couldn’t make sense of it; why wasn’t he mad? He should be angry at you. 

“Joel?” you whispered, your fingers twisting into his shirt. He smelt of cedarwood and smoke, the lingering scent of the workday still on his clothes. 

“I was so fuckin’ worried ‘bout you,” he muttered into your hair. “Been tryin’ to get ahold of you all day.”

“I left my phone at home this morning,” you explained. “I listened to your voicemails from last night. I’m sorry I didn’t call back. I was just running late this morning.”

“Why didn’t you pick up last night?’ He asked, pulling away. 

“I needed some space. I’m just trying to figure this all out. I want you—I want this. I just don’t know how to be fully vulnerable. I know that’s silly to say since I’ve cried every time I’ve seen you.” You laughed at the thought of it.

“You coulda just told me that, baby. I would’ve understood,” Joel sighed. 

“You’re not mad at me?” 

“Of course not,” he smiled softly. “Had me worryin’ like crazy, but I ain’t mad. I know this is all new, and you’re scared. Just don’t shut me out, ‘kay? I wanna talk to you and understand what’s goin’ on with you. I told you I wanna work on it with you.”

“I’m s—.”

Joel was pressing his lips against yours before you could say those two words. The kiss was all-consuming and tender, strong enough to erase every thought in your mind. Your mouths moved in unison, tongues intertwined and exploring. It was dizzying to be kissed this fervently; the first kiss couldn’t hold a torch to this moment. You tangled your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck, slanting your lips to open yourself even more to him. Joel’s hands twisted into the fabric of your dress that hugged your hips and pulled you tighter against his body. You whimpered at the feeling of his cock straining in his jeans, and he hauled you upwards until you were wrapping your legs around his waist. 

Spinning you around, he pinned you to the metal of your car door, breaking away from your mouth to kiss down your neck. Was it possible to be branded by a dozen kisses? He left a trail of sweltering kisses over every exposed part of your upper body, and all you could do was pant and moan helplessly. To hell with the neighborhood and their lingering eyes; the world around you could collapse, and you’d still be clinging to his body. 

“I told you I didn’t wanna hear those apologies,” Joel muttered against the hollow of your neck. 

“What are you gonna do about it, Joel?” You moaned, his teeth grazing your collarbone. 

“All I want right now is to hear you screamin’ my name, so you better invite me inside before I fuck you right here.”

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered.

“Wrong name, baby.”

With one strong arm braced around your back and a firm hand on your ass, Joel carried you out of the driveway and through the open garage. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the bare patches in his beard. Joel stumbled into the living room and sat you on the edge of the couch. You clung to him, refusing to lay back, too afraid to disconnect from his body. There was something so addicting, so right about being in his arms—almost familiar. 

“Y’look so beautiful in this dress, baby,” Joel breathed. “Turn around.”

You unattached yourself from him, spinning until your thighs pushed against the leather of the couch. Joel’s hands roamed over your calves, dragging your dress up until it piled against your lower back. You gasped as his fingers tore apart your underwear, the scraps falling down your legs and piling at your feet. It was embarrassing how wet you were already, your slick coating your inner thighs. 

“Joel,” you whined as he swiped a finger through your wet folds.

“Use your words,” he hummed, slowly pushing in two fingers.

“I need you, Joel.” He curled his fingers against the spot that left you breathless, coaxing you to speak more. “Need it rough—please.” 

You needed to feel how bad he needed you; you needed to show him you wanted him, even if it meant doing it without saying it aloud.

“Y’want it rough, baby? I can do that. If it’s too much, you tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you exhaled. 

Joel pulled his fingers from you, bringing them to your mouth and smearing your arousal over your parted lips. You hummed as you tasted yourself, pushing your ass back into him. You heard the clang of his belt and the soft sound of his jeans hitting the floor before he swiped his cock across your slick entrance.

“Don’t be gentle,” you moaned.

“Anythin’ you want, baby.”

That was all he said before splitting you open, the fullness of his cock inside you robbing you of all the breath in your lungs. Joel kept his hips flush with yours, his fingertips drifting down the fabric of your dress covering your spine. 

“Joel,” you whined. 

You shifted yourself onto the tips of your toes, nudging yourself back until the tip of his cock rubbed against the right spot inside you. You mewled at the sensation, wiggling your hips to find some sort of relief from the pleasure churning inside your stomach.

“Impatient, baby?” Joel teased.

He moved against you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. You had been in such a haze last time you hadn’t realized how big he actually was, but now you felt every glorious inch of him inside you. You let out another frustrated whimper, and Joel responded with an onslaught of forceful thrusts. Your body shoved further into the couch, your midsection rubbing against the edge every time Joel snapped his hips against yours. 

Joel’s hand snaked around your neck, drawing you back into his chest, the angle of his cock spearing deeper inside you. Your wails turned to sobs as you listened to Joel grunting harder behind you, his fingers squeezing rhythmically around your throat. 

“That’s it, baby,” Joel crooned. “That’s it. Doin’ so well for me.”

You gasped for air as the desire coiling within your core became agonizing and all-consuming. Your fingers wrapped around his hand holding you up, clawing at his skin as his thrusts became erratic and determined. You were teetering on the edge of euphoria, your body buzzing with pleasure. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” Joel whispered into your ear. 

You fought against your dress to find your clit, the instant connection of your fingers causing you to cry out. Joel’s mouth ravaged your neck, sucking marks into the skin as you drew tantalizing circles over the sensitive bud. It was right there— that explosive pleasure bubbling under the surface. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice strained under his grip. “Don’t—right there. Right there, Joel!”

Joel quickened the pace, your eyes blurring as your orgasm raced through your veins and set your nerves ablaze. Your sex clenched around his cock, forcing him to slow his thrusts as he groaned into your ear. 

“S’fuckin’ good, baby,” he punched out, releasing your neck.

“More,” you heaved. 

“Think y’can take it?” He asked, pinning you down onto the couch cushions.

“Just want you, Joel,” you said. Your words were muffled into the couch as you exhaled, “Want everything with you.” 

You didn’t know if Joel heard you, and you prayed he didn’t. Your brain was lost in some euphoric haze, dizzying you and your ability to control your emotions. Joel knew every part of your body, like the back of his hand. He knew exactly what you needed and what you wanted, and it was so confusing. 

But all your thoughts grew quiet as the lewd sounds of your arousal and his ragged breathing echoed around the house. Joel’s hand pressed into your hair as he pushed you further into the couch. Bent over this way, you were entirely at his mercy, putty in his hands, and helpless. 

“Swear y’were fuckin’ made for me, baby,” Joel grunted. “You’re mine, baby. Mine.”

“Yours,” you cried. “I’m—.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as Joel seized up, choking out your name as he spilled into you. His body slumped over yours, the weight of his chest heavy against your back. The hammering of his heart matched yours as you both recovered in silence, the house growing quiet aside from your labored breathing. 

“Too rough?” Joel muttered into your hair. 

You shifted your face to the side, rewarded by his lips pressing into your cheek. 

“Perfect,” you sighed. “It was perfect.”

“You weren’t lyin’ when you said you weren’t a fan of vanilla, huh?” Joel chuckled, pulling out of you. 

You slumped further into the couch, laughing softly. 

“I was talking about cake, Joel. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Sure you were, baby. Stay right there, okay?”

You heard his footsteps disappear toward your bedroom, the distant sound of water turning on and off floating down the hallway. A second later, Joel was behind you again, the cool touch of a towel making you jerk away in shock. He gently rubbed the cloth over your inner thighs, taking extra caution of your sore entrance. You’d feel him everywhere tomorrow, and you didn’t hate that for some reason—you wanted the reminder of him. 

“C’mere,” Joel urged, helping you stand. 

He pulled you over to the couch, curling you into his arms and bracing you against his chest. Joel intertwined his fingers with yours, his breathing evening out as you shimmed further into his embrace. Maybe it was the sex, maybe it was just being around him, but all your doubts and worries seemed to fade away. It was just this moment; you and him with limbs entangled together. 

“Tell me somethin’ no one knows about you,” Joel whispered. 

“Only if you tell me something in return.”

“Of course, baby.”

You paused, considering all the possibilities of what you could share. You had forgotten pieces of yourself over the years, the layers of heartbreak and trauma suffocating the person you once were. You still weren’t sure if that girl you had once been was still inside you. 

“I hate pancakes,” you said.

Joel laughed, his body shaking behind you as you buried your head into the couch. 

“Pancakes? Really?” He teased. 

“I just don’t like them!” You defended. 

“Y’gonna tell me why?”

“I don’t know,” you grumbled. “They’re just too sweet.”

“So y’don’t like sugar in your coffee, and y’think pancakes are too sweet,” Joel mused. “What do you like?”

“Don’t tease me, Joel.”

His fingers prodded your sides, forcing you to shriek at the contact. You hated to be tickled and hated it even more when he kept you pinned to your chest with nowhere to go. You rolled toward him, squirming against his touch. Joel leaned in to kiss you softly, muffling your protests as you settled into his arms. 

“Your turn,” you sighed. 

“Hmm, well, I like pancakes.”

“Be serious, Joel,” you frowned. 

“Okay, okay. I love watchin’ cartoons.”

You giggled, watching that grin stretch across his face. 

“Been watchin’ them with Sarah since she was a kid,” he chuckled. “I still do sometimes, even if she ain’t home.” 

“That’s cute,” you smiled.

You brought your fingers to his face, scratching at the stubble covering his chin and jaw. Joel’s eyes shut as your touch drifted over the patchy spots, your fingertips drawing circles in the places his beard disconnected. 

“Tell me somethin’ else,” he said.

“I think you’re really handsome.”

It was a quick response—almost too fast—but you couldn’t swallow back the words. You glanced up at him, peeking through your lashes to see his brown eyes soften. 

“Handsome, huh?”

“Well, I can’t call you cute,” you scrunched your nose. “It doesn’t fit you. I like handsome more.”

“I like it,” he smiled. “Call me handsome all y’want.”

You dragged him to your mouth, saying everything you couldn’t form into words. Joel moved with you, his head tilting and mouth molding to yours. He made everything feel so simple; maybe that’s what scared you. It was too easy with him—falling into this idyllic routine. Joel mumbled your name, pulling himself reluctantly from your lips. You chased one more kiss and settled back into his chest. 

“Did you know it’s good luck when it rains on your wedding day?” You thought out loud.

Joel tensed up, his arms flexing around you. 

“Superstition says it means your marriage will last,” you continued. “I’ve always thought it was funny, you know? I used to believe in that before my wedding, but after that, I figured everyone had lied to me.”

“Baby,” Joel whispered. 

“No, it’s okay. There’s a point to this, I promise.”

“Tell me,” he urged softly.

“I think the rain was good luck. Maybe not in the way people think, but I don’t think Bennett and I were meant to get married. My sister hated me for going through with it. We didn’t really talk once Bennett and I got engaged. Everyone warned me about him; they told me he wasn’t who I should be with. I was so stubborn to make things work. He—he was there for me during a really awful time in my life. I thought I owed it to him to stay.

“But then here you are, and it makes me re-think everything. The rain? It’s still good luck, just in a different way. I wasn’t meant to be with him because maybe… maybe I was meant to be with you.”

Joel was painfully quiet, his eyebrows furrowing together as he closed his eyes. Oh, fuck. You had rambled out everything you were scared to say, and now it was biting you in the ass. This was why you were too afraid to acknowledge your feelings: the rejection. Joel didn’t see it the same way; he didn’t think of you in the same way, and you just made a complete idiot of yourself. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you muttered, trying to pry yourself out of his grip. You kept the tears at bay, trying not to let yourself succumb to the heartbreak shattering inside you. 

Joel’s hands wrangled you back to his chest, his eyes leveling with yours. You inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed away the rogue tears falling down your cheeks. 

“There ain’t a doubt in my mind y’were meant for me, baby. I’m thankin’ God every day for bringin’ you into my life,” Joel confessed. “I know this is all new, but I promise to keep provin’ myself because whatever this is between us, it’s real.”

“It’s real,” you echoed. 

“Don’t run away from me,” Joel pleaded. “Gimmie all the good and bad stuff. I swear I can handle it.”

“What if you get tired of me? What if I’m not enough?” You rambled. 

“I could never get tired of you, baby. If anythin’, I keep wantin’ more.”

You snuggled further into his embrace, inhaling his scent as you pressed your nose into his chest. Joel ran a hand through your hair, his fingers catching on a few knots left from earlier. 

“What’d you mean when you said he was there for you durin’ somethin’ awful?” Joel asked after a beat of silence. 

Flashes of the crash came back into your mind, or at least the ones you could recall. You squeezed your eyes shut as your nightmares began to see the light of day. It was a memory you never liked to revisit.

“Easy,” your mom whispered. “Easy, honey. Don’t move too much, okay? Take it slow.”

Your eyes fluttered open, the harsh lights above you burning into your retinas as you tried to adjust to the room fading into the forefront. You were tucked into a hospital bed, IVs and tubes sticking out of both arms. Your head was pounding, and everything hurt. That’s all you could focus on. Everything hurt so fucking bad.

“Bennett?” You croaked, searching the room. 

Your mom, dad, Beth, and Stella were all grouped around the foot of the bed, their eyes glassy with tears. Bennett was nowhere to be found. Beth’s fear-stricken eyes shifted from your mom to your dad before she bolted from the room.

“I’m going to go get the doctor,” your mom announced, turning and leaving the room.

Stella shifted uncomfortably and promptly followed, leaving your dad alone at the foot of your bed.

“How’re you feeling, peanut?” He asked, rounding to the side of your bed.

“Pain,” you cried softly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assured. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Baby?” Joel said cautiously. 

“S–sorry,” you mumbled. “I don’t know if I really want to talk about it.”

Joel’s brows scrunched together, his eyes staring at you with concern. You turned away from him, lifting yourself from the couch. Pacing the living room, you stared blankly at your bookshelf beside your entertainment center, still collecting dust after two years. You heard Joel shift against the couch behind you and glanced back to see him staring at you intensely. Anxiety was thrumming in your chest the longer you stood in front of him, too many thoughts reeling inside your mind. You never talked about the accident; you didn’t want to be reminded of what had been the catalyst in your relationship's failure. Because that’s what it was. You owed everything to Bennett for sticking by your side through it all, and in the end, you weren’t enough. Nothing you did was enough to salvage what had been your life with him before it all.

“Hey,” Joel exhaled. “C’mere.”

“I—I need a minute,” you cried.

You bolted from the living room and went down the hall, gasping for air when you reached the edge of your bed. The room was spinning as you dropped your head in your hands, the nausea surging up inside you the longer you stayed stuck in the memory. You needed out of it; you needed out. You needed—.

Joel rushed into the room, falling to his knees in front of you as he said your name over and over to coax you out of the trance. Nothing was working. Your head was throbbing in pain, and you couldn’t work around it. 

“Breathe with me, baby,” Joel whispered. “Breathe.”

You heaved in a lung full of air, only to choke on it and gag back the nausea crawling up your throat. Joel rubbed his hands over your thighs, the sensation of his touch jarring you enough to make you cringe. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he crooned, a distant echo of your dad's words. “It’s okay.”

The shrilling sound of your phone ringing pulled you both from the moment, and you crawled over the bed to grab it. 

Beth

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I can’t—I can’t answer it.”

“Give it to me, I’ll do it,” Joel offered with an outstretched hand. 

You practically tossed it at him while you crumpled into the sheets with your hands clutching your head. 

“Hello?” He answered with a brief pause before he said, “This is Joel.”

Silence.

“Fuck, okay. Gimmie a second,” he replied.

“Baby, she needs to talk to you,” Joel said.

You stifled your cries before taking your phone from his hand, already hearing Beth’s frantic voice on the other end of the receiver. 

“Beth, what is it?” You asked, your body shaking. 

“It’s dad, sis. You’ve got to come home, okay?”

[elaemae]

The premium version of human is here to wreck house, mfs.

[Twst x Obeyme!AFAB!reader]

CHP. 1.1: The start of the Blood Rose Tyrant.

Thank you, my amazing readers, for all the likes, comments, and reblogs🥹 It makes so happy, like– almost nothing can top the joy of seeing y'all liked my work :)

Btw, If you have any questions about my tagging and/or literally anything you wanna ask me bout the fic, just reach out to me and I'll try my best to answer you.😊

CW: Cursing, Idk what else... There's also the pronoun schtick I've been yapping about since pr. 1. (i.e MC will get mistaken for a pretty guy a lot -Mc is AFAB referred to as they/them- because the NRC cast have come to expect only boys to be in the school. Excluding the paintings ofc.)

(My pic)

Fun fact: While all of your ornaments act as containers to very *nom*-able amounts of magic, such a thing can be dangerous as it may give away your location if you need to hide or run away from someone.

Therefore, all of them were cast with a special spell developed by Solomon that makes it so that people can't sense that magic unless they're really close to you physically.

(Not to mention, only exceptional mages can actually have the hope of picking up on that magic as your all jewelry were also cast with a heavy magical concealment blessing from both Micheal and Luke.)

• • •

'What the hell is this?'

You think as you fiddled with the fancy pouch in your hands.

You had opened the gift box to find the pouch containing some basic skincare products and just went; ( •_•)..?

Like– What the hell? Who does that?? Are they saying that you're ugly and needed to start taking care of your face?! Well excuse you, I'll have you know –whomever you are– that this face was approved by Asmodeus himself you rude lil' shi—

*Ehem*

So like any sane person is supposed to do in that situation, you checked if the products were cursed or charmed and then pocketed it to maybe sell it in the future for some cash. (Lovely gift but you were taught never to use/ingest things given to you by strangers.)

Leaving the infirmary, you venture into the botanical garden, hoping you'd find some edible plants that you and Yuu can nibble on until you can procure other food options and some all important moneh. (Ugh, if only that damn crow didn't escape and hide away from you, you would've extorted his cowardly-ass and bought some food instead of needing to resort to this bs.)

'Trying to find a stone in a long abandoned mine is simply a fools errand.'

You thought as you absent-mindedly skipped past a certain tall, dark, and handsome man with horns, unknowing of the look of pure curiosity pointed at your back as you continued your musings.

'But oh well, they wanted to try so they might as well be those fools.'

You're not gonna stop them if they wanna try to fix things even though you've mostly stabilized the situation. (Not that they know.)

Damn, you also need to go to the library later so that you can learn what changes you'd need to do in order to adapt and know the problems you'd likely experience in this world.

Knowing yourself and your history for being a magnet of chaos, It'd probably involve almost dying more times than you have fingers and unearthing some deeply-buried soul-crushing trauma in which the only thing you'll get in return are the friends you've made along the way.

Aside from that though, you'd need to gain yourself a foothold in this society.

Preferably, there would be a lot of rich and influential people in this school to suck up to, but if those aren't enough then maybe you can venture into industries where you can kiss-ass in peace.

As much as you'd love to be optimistic, Crowley is the almost literal embodiment of a dead-beat dad barely pays child-support and your own search for a way home may take years before coming to fruition.

Tsk. You can feel your stress levels transcending the mortal plane of existence again as you can already envision the figurative mountain-range you'd need to climb just to achieve stability in this place.

$°\•m°n.. p/€∆$3.. H€\₱ m£...

Times like these just make you wanna curl up onto the floor in a fetal position and let the earth consume you whole.

Oh! And you also need to obtain a stronger blackmail material against Crowley to make sure he won't try anything remotely against you.

'Hmm... But maybe...'

You think as you took a quick and discreet glance to a security camera that had been "coincidentally" pointed at you.

Well, not really a coincidence.

If the mf behind these creepy-ass cameras —that have been watching you since your arrival here, mind you—, can lend you a hand then that would be the optimal outcome. There are a lot of security cameras after all...

Though there's also a large possibility that the fucker wanted you dead because of either boredom, simple bloodlust, money, vengeance (for some reason), your organs or all of the above.

You sighed as you entered the botanical garden, telling yourself to just worry about that later and focus on finding food.

If you get in trouble for taking plants here, you'll just throw Crowley under the bus. (figuratively and literally if he decides to be a bitch about it.)

• • • •

Yuu, Grim, Ace, and Deuce stumbled out of the mirror, finally away from the creepy forest and back into the college.

They all flinched and turned their heads back when they heard a dramatic 'Tsktsktsk–' from behind them.

"Well well well~ Look who finally decided to show up at–"

*checks imaginary wrist watch*

"46 minutes past midnight.. Huh.. If you all got any curfew for your dorms then you're both toast. Can't believe y'all spent more than five hours looking for a single rock..."

You said, referring to the two first years who flinched under your words and judgemental eyes.

"You all look like shit by the way."

Yuu awkwardly scratched their head.

"Thanks?"

*Sigh...*

"You're welcome, bbg."

"Just hurry up and give that rock to the fuckin crow already so that you all can spare the world from having to witness anymore of your gross, sweaty, homeless-lookin selves."

Deuce shrunk even further behind Yuu. (funny because Yuu was at least half-a-head shorter.)

Ace meanwhile, has too much ego to not say anything back.

"We wouldn't be looking like this if you at least helped!" He snarked.

"Why should I?"

You Dwayne-the-rock-Johnson raised your eyebrow at him.

"I don't owe any of you a smidgen of literally anything so why should I help?"

It wasn't a question, but a statement. Because why should you help? They should be grateful you even talked Crowley out of expelling them immediately. Not that they know but still...

But of course, audacity is gonna audacity. Because, Ace really had the nerve to look offended by your words, as if you weren't saying something as truthful as the sky being blue, the grass being green, and your ass being a literal masterpiece from god.

"Don't even try to pass off the blame, Weasley-wannabe. I know it, you know it, your mom knows it, your dad if you have one, your entire bloodline and your non-existent cow knows it, there's literally no point."

Ace literally almost snarled at you like a damn dog, pft– That's what he gets from pissing you off by existing earlier.

"Oh shut up!"

He then looked like he was about to start a rant of how unfair his life was and how he totally didn't deserve any of this and blahblahblahblahblah–

You swear on Diavolo and Luci's fruity man-boobs, you'll hang this bitch upside down like a bat if you had to hear another complaint about things being unfair for him.

What about you? or Yuu? Isn't life more cruel and unfair to you two? Taking you both away from loved ones and shoving you into a world where you two need to fight for a temporary sanctuary as you both try to go home with no real proof you'll actually be able to make it back?

Isn't life more unfair to you? Right when you almost finally achieved the start of your happy ending.. You were taken away from the people that you fought tooth and nail to be with.. And now, they're all too far away for you to reach... again.

Deuce elbowed Ace, thankfully making the jab to the ribs painful for the annoying ginger.

You dramatically sighed again, turning to Yuu and Deuce.

"Remember kids, don't copy Ace's attitude okay? Lest you want to end up single and with no bitches for the rest of your life."

Ace's right eye twitched erratically, shouting at you to shut up and to stop messing with him.

• • • • •

Talking with the crow is an annoying affair as expected. At least now, Yuu is finally an official learner of the school. Even if they're just half-a-student with the loud talking cat. (That kinda reminds you of Mammon, now that you think of it. Also very funny because the cat's name is grim of all things..)

Oh, and you're a prefect now. You're definitely going to make that everyone's problem. Hehehehehe~

"So the abandoned dorm we were supposed to live in is fixed now? How? Hasn't it only been like– a day?"

You ominously beamed at the question, releasing a sinister little giggle that caused Ace, Deuce, and the now wide-awake Grim to subconsciously shiver while Yuu refrained from asking further questions and just wisely snickered instead.

Unseen by everyone, you sent a quick devious little smile to a wall where a certain electrical device was mounted, biting down a snort when you saw the security camera suddenly snap into another direction, as if it was a person embarrassed that they got caught by someone they were staring at.

You then had to hold back a cackle as you remembered how easily this newly made stalker friend of yours snitched on the headmaster, like– you literally didn't even do anything, the flustered boy just gave you the blackmail material that you needed. Well, maybe you did corner him a little bit by using his own electronics against him but you're pretty sure he enjoyed it for some reason if the way he literally blurted out 'mommy-' at you was anything to go by—

Haha, the benefits of having a hacker as a fren :3

• • • •

Kicking away the two idiots and telling them to go back to their dorms already, you dragged Yuu inside the now newly fixed dorm.

The two of you needed to talk about a few things and arrangements..

• • • •

Quickly opening the door in hopes that the fucker that was banging on it gets mash-dabbed face-first, you saw nothing but disappointment as the bastard — Ace — had actually moved away from the door in an impressive display of intuition and spidey-sense before you had even wretched the door open.

"What the fuck do you want, you ugly punyeta?"

It hasn't even been a few hours since this mf parted ways with you and Yuu, so what could be the problem now?

. .. . . . . ..

"No, you're sleeping on the couch."

"What?! But why?!! There are perfectly good rooms here!"

"All the other rooms besides the one we're using are still unfurnished. The beds in them are yet to be assembled and the floors are dusty because of the quick renovations." Yuu stated, rubbing the bridge of their nose.

"Ughhhhh! Just let me squeeze in, I promise I won't take up too much space!"

"Nice try but no."

"Tch, You're all so stingy and inhospitable.."

"Yuu, Do you hear that?" You said, theatrically cupping your ear with a hand.

"Yes, It seems that a forever virgin is talking." Yuu answered with a smirk.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, you oompa-loompa lookin ass— we unfortunately can't understand the language of people who can't pull."

"You guys are the worst."

"Thanks bbg." you and Yuu paused.

"Pft–"

"Oh dear~ It seems you're starting to take after me."

"Indeed it seems." Yuu replied, even subconsciously copying the fancy accent you used.

"Oh no, you're multiplying. :0"

"Haha, we're still dragging you to apologize to your Housewarden later."

"Aww shucks.."

← Pr.7 | Chapter List | Chp. 1.2 →

Thanks for reading this far, my amazing readers ＼⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^⁠)⁠／

Pls don't forget to reblog and like, it really helps me so much <3

Taglist;

@f0uerleafedcl0ver @a-traveling-void-human @leviathans-tail-scales @nimko @solarixstar @sugarrush-blush @im-in-love-with-fairytales @irisxiel @meigalaxy @nightw-izhu @refridgeratorplus @moonieper @certified-twst-simp @immakittybear @iris-arcadia @caprinaesprout @mc-glare-is-king

Pls if I forgot to tag someone, pls tell me..

Tumblr is fuckin with me again.

Reminder; Just tell me if y'all wanna be added to the permanent taglist.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Café for Killers || 1- Lloyd Hansen

Summary: In this café, where people usually enjoy their coffee, after 12 a.m., the actual customers arrive, posing a risk to the temporary owner's life as she works here.

Character: Female Reader x Lloyd Hansen

Chp 1, Chp 2 .-

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

"Thank you for coming!" 

You beamed a warm smile at the customers, your eyes crinkling at the corners. With practiced ease, you leaned down and began clearing the remnants of their meal, stacking the used dishes with a practiced clatter.

A few customers offered curt nods of appreciation, their faces etched with the weariness of late nights. They pushed open the heavy window door with a sigh, the clink of the bell announcing their departure. 

"This place is a lifesaver," one woman remarked, her voice thick with exhaustion. "Only this cafe open till midnight, and the coffee's delicious on top of that. Easy on the wallet, too."

"Sure is," her friend replied. His gaze drifted towards the back of the house, a flicker of concern crossing your features. "Wonder if the owner's managing some sleep."

"You got a crush on the owner?"** His friend chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. 

"N-no, not at all!" he stammered, a blush creeping up his neck. A nervous laugh escaped his lips, sounding a little too high-pitched. 

He glanced back at the cafe one last time, the warm glow from your window cutting through the darkness. As he checked his phone, the illuminated screen revealed the time: 12:00 AM. 

Twilight Café.

The name fits perfectly, known to students far and wide as a sanctuary for late-night studying sessions and caffeine-fueled study marathons.

But beneath its welcoming exterior lurked something darker that demanded the café stay open until the witching hour.

Behind the welcoming façade of Twilight Café, catering to the late-night needs of college students lies a perilous secret that necessitates its doors staying open until 12 a.m. each night.

This isn't merely about accommodating nocturnal study sessions; there's a far more sinister reason behind the extended hours.

As the temporary owner of Twilight Café, you find yourself grappling with a promise made in haste when your uncle unexpectedly left the business in your hands.

What was meant to be a temporary arrangement—a favor to help him during his recovery from surgery—has turned into a daunting obligation.

Your mother's insistence and your experience as a barista seemed like reason enough to step in and lend a hand. Initially, you didn't mind; there were no ill feelings as you took on the responsibility.

After all, it was family, and supporting your uncle during a difficult time felt like the right thing to do.

However, as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, you began to question the true nature of your uncle's request. The moment he handed you that nondisclosure agreement and insisted you sign away any possibility of backing out until he was fully recovered, a seed of doubt was planted in your mind.

Why the need for such secrecy? What was your uncle hiding behind the guise of a simple café? 

Regret gnawed at you as you helped your uncle and he revealed the private room and second storage area. 

'Cling.' 

The ring from the back door opening echoed through the cafe, signaling that it was past 12:00 a.m.

You swiftly lowered the café's window curtains, dimming the lights to set the atmosphere.

With a mix of trepidation and resignation, you prepared the coffee for the mysterious guests in the private room. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you carefully arranged the cups on the tray, each movement precise yet tinged with nervousness.

With the tray of coffees in hand, you approached the private room, noting the presence of two burly guards stationed at the door. One of them wordlessly opened the door, allowing you entry.

As you stepped into the room, the atmosphere shifted palpably. The customers here were unlike the students and employees.

They are killers, merchants, assassins.

The Twilight Café was made for these types of customers.

They gathered here under the cover of night, their presence starkly contrasted with the usual patrons. Most of the killers who come here want to enjoy coffee since most of them can't sleep, or they need a place to hide, or they want to buy a weapon. But since your uncle is still sick, the weapon store is closed.

Typically, bookings were required for their attendance, allowing you to anticipate the number of guests. Tonight, there were only four individuals, two of whom were regulars.

"Ah, my coffee has arrived. You're a lifesaver, sunshine,"  came a voice from the table.

It was Lloyd Hansen, a renowned merchant and assassin. The casualness of his tone sent a shiver down your spine.

With a forced smile, you nodded in acknowledgment, your body tense with discomfort. As you set down the tray, you couldn't shake the unease that washed over you, a silent reminder of the dangerous world you found yourself entangled in.

And the other one is Carmichael, his partner in crime, while the other two, you've never seen them before.

You gently placed the coffee cup down, eager to leave the room quickly. Making a small bow, you murmured, "Enjoy your coffee."

"She's really polite. I like her," Lloyd remarked while Carmichael nodded.

You offered a smile in response before swiftly exiting the room.

Returning to the front of the café, the atmosphere felt lighter and safer. You glanced at your watch, noting that you couldn't leave until 3 a.m., the designated time limit for the killers' stay.

To distract yourself, you turned to watching cooking videos, the only thing that seemed to ease your mind amidst the unsettling environment.

With noise-canceling headphones in place, you blocked out the eerie voices that had plagued you since starting work here.

On your first day, you fainted. There was a fight among the killers, and the private room, once a cozy haven for them, lay in ruins.

However, a cleaning team was swiftly dispatched to address the aftermath. They were hired specifically to handle the grisly task of cleaning up bloodstains—a chilling reminder of the dangerous world you had unwittingly become a part of.

Time passed until you felt a looming shadow behind you. It was Lloyd, standing before you. Your eyes widened, and you fought the urge to scream.

Blood was splattered across his face, his smile only adding to his menacing appearance.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I made a mess. Those two didn't agree with me. You know I don't like that," Lloyd explained.

You nodded, unable to find your voice.

Lloyd chuckled at your reaction, finding amusement in your fear, likening you to a cute puppy.

"No worries, I've called the cleaning team," he continued, handing you a white envelope. "Here's the money for the repairs."

Great, you didn't have to enter the private room and witness what had occurred inside.

"Oh," he added, retrieving his wallet and pulling out $100 bills. "Here's a tip for the delicious coffee." He put the money in front of you.

"I'll see you again soon." With a wink, Lloyd left through the backdoor, leaving you to contemplate the surreal encounter.

As soon as he closed the door, you collapsed, overwhelmed. "Oh my god," you muttered under your breath.

‘PING’

Then, a notification pinged from the system, interrupting your relieved moment. Another customer for tomorrow—a killer.

You sighed heavily, frustration building inside you. This is the life of a temporary owner of a café for killers.

Who's going to be the next killer coming to the cafe?

You could decide which character and skills each character possesses.

The character with the most replies and reblogs will be the next customer.

[awkward-tension-art]

Bacta and Bandages Chp.4 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 3. Chapter 5.

Rookies and Broken Hands

CW: Fives and Echo, slow-burn, Anakin trying to be supportive, Reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), reader is a doctor, if I miss a tag LMK!

After Cherenity, you’ve adapted well. Your first mission was a relatively easy success. From there, you had more confidence and mental preparation. You didn’t even freeze when you were exposed to combat on the next mission. 

Truthfully, you might not have frozen up anyway. The hospitals on the lower levels of Coruscant weren’t strangers to criminal violence and attacks. 

And, to be blunt, the droids weren’t as cruel as some of the criminal empires back home.

Right now, everyone was on The Resolute, winding down from another successful battle. The planet of Jorin was officially Republic territory, thanks to the efforts of General Skywalker, Commander Tano and General Kenobi. 

You weren’t out and about mingling. Instead, you were in the medical bay, patching up your third trooper with cracked knuckles, broken fingers and fractured hands. 

The cause of such wounds? Punching droids.

For some reason, every time a clone had a chance, they would swing a fist at the metal body in front of them. Of course punching metal with no hand armor was, to be frank, damaging to bone. But these soldiers wouldn’t even feel the pain until adrenaline wore off. 

The first time one of these guys punched a droid, you assumed it was just a moment of pure will to survive.

The second time was a coincidence. Something you could write off as just a minor occurrence. 

The third time? You asked Kix if they were specifically trained to punch the damn things in front of them.

The straw that overloaded the ship was when you witnessed Commander Cody literally throw his rifle and tackle one of the droids that got too close to where you were treating the injured. When he stood back up, General Kenobi just handed him his gun as if this was a regular occurance. 

After that, you weren’t sure who was more fucking insane. The 501st or the 212th.

You sent the last trooper on his way and opened the door to the hallway. However, as soon as the metal doors split, you came face-to-face with an unknown trooper. He had his hair styled in the standard military fashion, however he sported a goatee. There was a tattoo on his temple, but you couldn’t make out what it was from where you stood. 

“Oh!” You were, admittedly, somewhat startled, “Hi, I’m sorry, do you need something?” 

“Well, yes I do.” The trooper had a flirtatious tone to his voice, “I wanted to come meet the 501st doctor. And let me just say, you and I could-”

A second trooper had dashed forward from down the hall and slapped his hand right over the lips of the first, “Fives! I can’t leave you alone for more than 3 minutes! Do you ever stop with your flirting!?” He was exasperated, clearly, “I’m so sorry for him. He’s a moron.” 

The first trooper, Fives, pulled the hand off his face. He kept his smirk, “What Echo is trying to say is-”

Echo, you gathered, cut off his friend, “What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry we’ve bothered you, Doctor.” 

Echo and Fives….oh! The new recruits from the Rishi outpost!

You gave the two of them a kind smile, “You’re no bother at all, you can come to me for anything you need.” 

Fives made a show of putting his hand over his heart, “Doc, I’m feeling lovesick-”

“It was nice to meet you, doctor. I’m going to take this di’kut and throw him out of an airlock.” Echo returned your smile, but you could tell it was tense and annoyed. The trooper began to drag his friend away, all the while Fives gave half-hearted struggles. 

You finally saw the full symbol on his temple. It was a ‘5’ in Aurebesh. A very ‘on the nose’ tattoo to distinguish him from his brothers. 

Something told you that this wouldn’t be the last you saw of them…

After the two soldiers had scrambled away, you walked through the venator ship to find Rex.

Your first guess, the hangar, was correct. He had a datapad and was overseeing the loading and unloading of weapons, supplies and other crates that were received from Jorin. You paused, the captain was busy and you didn’t want to bother him…

He spotted you first and gave a small smile. The blonde clone handed the datapad to one of the troopers at his side and walked over, “Is something wrong Doctor?” 

You sighed, “It’s about the men. Can you please tell them to stop punching droids?” 

Rex blinked in surprise, “What? Why? Sorry doctor, but the men are trained to take down clankers in whatever way possible.”

“They keep breaking their hands, especially their fingers.”

There was silence from the Captain. After a moment he responded, “I…see. No one had ever said anything. Are you sure it's them punching droids-”

“Captain, please use your fist to punch the wall with all your strength and take note of the results.” You deadpanned, brow raised. There was a grin on your lips, clearly indicating your sarcasm. 

He snorted, “Alright alright, point made.” the clone in front of you put a hand on his hip, “I’ll…think of something. I’m sure armor would help…”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, “It’s easier to create armor for hands rather than tell the men to stop suckerpunching droids.” Your smile hadn’t left your face when you responded, “You know what? I think more armor is a wonderful idea. In the meantime, can you tell them that when they throw a punch to leave the thumb outside the fist?”

You didn’t know that Rex felt a small twinge in his heart at your laughter. It was a burst of joy that he made you happy. Something he hadn’t felt before.

“Yea. Yes!” He caught himself getting lax in his attitude, “I’ll tell them. Thank you for your concern over the men.” 

“Of course, it’s my job.” You nodded, feeling somewhat relaxed now, “I’ll let you get back to work. I’ll see you around, alright?”

“Yes, of course, doctor.” Rex watched you leave the hangar. Unconsciously, he sighed before turning back to the working soldiers. He, however, was face-to-face with Anakin.

The Jedi had been replacing a part in one of his fighters when you had arrived at the hangar. When he saw his captain and doctor both talking…

Well, a good general would help his men in all their endeavors. 

“So, Captain.” General Skywalker couldn’t stop the smirk, “You and our wonderful Doctor are rather friendly.”

Rex’s eyes widened, “I…don’t know what you mean, sir.” 

“Come on, Rex. It’s just you and me here,” He put a hand on the clones back, “Man to man? You can tell me.” 

“Sir…” 

Anakin didn’t give up, “It's natural to have feelings, Rex. Heck, I encourage it!”

“Feelings? Oh! No, General! I-I can’t…” The clone captain stuttered, tripping over his words. The two of them were standing off to the side, making sure no one could hear them.

The Jedi laughed, “What? Yes you can! Come on, it's alright.” However, looking at his friend's serious stare, Anakin’s face fell, “Rex?”

The clone captain sighed, “Sir, clones are taught early on that romantic feelings are forbidden. We’re soldiers, we’re not supposed to have partners or spouses. We’d be going against regulations if we pursued personal relationships.”

Something shifted in the General, as if he had been slapped. He stepped back, eyes holding sadness and understanding, “I’m sorry…That's…” He looked down with a sigh, “That's not fair…” After a second he furrowed his brow and looked up at his captain, “I’m not going to stop anyone from having a relationship if they want. No one should be forced to…box up their feelings.” 

Rex felt a flash of confusion and even worry. Anakin sounded as if he fully understood. 

Jedi aren’t allowed attachment…

Did General Skywalker really understand?

After a beat, the Captain nodded, “Thank you, sir…I’m certain some of the men will feel better knowing they have that freedom.”

The Jedi frowned. Rex was a man with high walls, even to his General, “I am serious, though. If you…need help with figuring things out…well, I’m your guy.”

“Thank you…General?” The clone captain watched, entirely confused when Anakin walked away to return to his fighter. 

What a strange conversation…

Rex couldn’t have feelings for you. He wasn’t programmed to have them.

That feeling in his heart was something different entirely. 

Right?

[mariefilms]

╰───► MORAL CONSCIENCE- e. williams smau.

「cuatro」 ⇢ hasta cuando

Pairing — streamer! ellie x youtuber!black fem!reader x rockstar! dina

warnings — sex tapes, strap on sex, weed, strap sucking, idk what worse i think that’s it

a/n i wasn’t gonna write smut but well…..( btw, this is 3 months after chp 3 🧘🏾) this is also not proofread so.. ntm !!

chapter 3 ⇢ chapter 5

ellie had made it to your apartment not long after you blocked dina on everything. you were sick of her back and forth shit. you couldn’t understand how she would just play with your emotions and think it’s a game w/ no consequences.

deciding not to tell ellie anything that just transpired you put on a face of faux happiness.

“hi baby” ellie greeted you with a bone crushing hug and you fell right into it. “i missed you” was whispered on your lips softly as she gave you multiple chaste kisses making you giggle. “it’s barely been two days, girl pleaseee” she rolls her eyes at your teasing and moves to sit on the couch and pull out some pre-rolls that she got off of jesse and lighting one before offering you the first hit. you took it before passing it back to ellie.

“ellie. we should bake a cake high.” you looked over at her and had a wild smile plastered across your face. she looked up at you from her slouched position on the couch questioningly. “why do you look on the verge of a psychotic break!?” she giggled at your immediate pout in response to her teasing. “stop ittttt, i’m serious! it would be so fun, i might even record it since i need new content anyway” you looked over at ellie to see if she would agree to find her staring at you with something shining in her eyes. you rose your eyebrow in question and she shook her head with a chuckle. “fine, i’ll do it !” sighing she got up and gathered all the stuff needed to get you high out of your minds.

you squealed in happiness as she agreed and ran to the kitchen to get everything in place, luckily your camera and lighting was already set up. (you may have planned to persuade her into saying yes but she doesn’t need to know that !!) .

“ellie come on ! i’ve got everything ready!” you yelled out while digging in your cupboards for cake mix and anything else you might need. “i’m literally right here” she said as she slinked up behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist.

“you know you can’t be like this on camera right?” you turned around in her arms with the ingredients in your hands to find her smirking down at you before bending down and pecking you on the lips while grabbing the stuff in your hands and putting it on the table.

“ok let’s start, ready” she arranged the ingredients on th table that looked good on camera as you turned the camera on and started recording.

“hi, youtube! i know ive been MIA for like……. months, but i’m back! and i have a special guest !” you turned to look at ellie who was apparently already lighting a blunt! “psst.. ellie” you smacked her arm and pointed to the camera when she acknowledged you (finally). “ hm? oh. sup, i’m ellie” she shrugged and went back to what she was doing before you had interrupted her. “well then! i’ll just introduce her since she wants to be aggy!” you heard her scoff behind you at your comment but chose to ignore it in favor of telling the people who she was and what y’all were doing for todays video.

“and that’s basically it! so me and ellie are gonna go get… como se dice… smacked and then we’ll be back!”

you didn’t come back. in fact you never even got to start on baking the cake. as soon as the high hit you and ellie she brought up this crazy idea of making a sextape. super risky, i know. but the way she said it made you feel a certain heat start forming in your lower region. the hand rubbing up and down your inner thighs certainly didn’t help with clearing your mind at all. all you could think about was ellie and she made sure you stayed like that.

next thing you knew you were in your bedroom, naked, sweaty and a flash blinding you as ellie put the camera in your face while you were sucking her strap down your throat to get it, in her words, nice and wet so she could fuck you into the bed. just thinking about what was to come made you get all hot and bothered and you were sure the camera was picking up on all your blissed out expressions.

“fuck that’s it baby”

“takin’ me so well ma’”

“deeper.. i know you can do it baby.”

fuck. you were in heaven. ellie was on a different type of timing that day and you couldn’t get enough of it. you dragged one of your hands down from ellie’s thigh and started making little circles on your clit giving it some much needed stimulation. “i think you’re ready baby. you’ve been so good f’me” ellie bit her lip and brung the phone closer to where your lips connected to the base of the strap watching it disappear in your mouth and reappear. “fuck, you’re so sexy baby”

ellie pulled you off by your hair and dragged you up into a bruising kiss. it was sloppy and wet with spit all over each others mouths and tongues exploring. “c‘mon ellie, i’m ready! you said it yourself” you mumbled in between kisses as best as you can when you felt her reach down and spread your lips, dragging a finger in your slit letting it slightly tease your hole and gather your slick. she removed her hand making you whimper in frustration until you saw her put the same finger in her mouth and sucks. “shit y/n you taste so good” she groaned around her finger making your clit twitch as a wave of strong arousal passed through you at such a pornographic display.

“if you don’t fuck me right now ellie.”

“yes ma’am” she chuckled and took the base of her strap to line it up with your sopping wet pussy. when she slid in to the hilt your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you moaned wantonly. “fuckkk ellie” you dragged your hips up and down on her dick setting a steady, punishing and mind-numbing pace. it was so good and you were hitting ellie’s clit just right with every bounce. ellie leaned up and planted her feet on the bed to fuck up into you causing you to scream at the intensity of the sensation. “ look at the camera f’me baby. you look so good crying on my dick” you moaned pathetically and opened your eyes to look into the camera.

tags </3 @brackishkittie @robinismywifee @aouiaa @elliesbitchvenus @vnus-starr

[ohdearlingwhathappened]

A Pair Made in The Pits Chp 3.5

Summary: The aftermath of Y/n and Agent Fowler's Kidnapping back at the Autobot Base.

WC: 623

A/n: Have fun

First ... Previous

The base is silent. The kids have been sent home, allowing them to grieve in their own ways. The only child who remains with their bot is Miko, saying she doesn’t want to go back home to host parents who barely tolerate her, and she would much rather go for a ride with Bulkhead. Optimus leaves for his habsuite, exhausted by the turmoil from not only Megatron’s plans, but from losing two friends in the span of 48 hours. The normally proudly tall, strong leader now hunched, making his way down the halls half-sparked.

He broke his word. Again.

Losing his footing, Optimus leans against the wall to his left, pausing to recollect himself. His optics are shaky, unable to focus on any one thing, blurred beyond comprehension, and he’s sure if he had a set of lungs, they would be inoperable.

I didn’t keep them safe. I didn’t keep her safe. I didn’t keep him safe. I failed Cybertron.

I am no Prime.

“-imus. Optimus. Optimus!”

Startling out of his fraying state, the leader of the Autobots looks up and slowly focuses in on the worried look on his sparkmate’s face. Noting that he was looking up, he realizes at some point he’s fallen to one knee, still balanced on the wall. Using said wall as a weight-bearing source, Optimus lifts himself from the ground and closes his eyes, regretting anyone seeing him in such a state- he is a Prime and a Prime can not crumble.

“Ratchet, I apolo-”

“Up hup hup,” Ratchet shakes his hands, successfully cutting Optimus off. “As your physician, I am ordering you to get to your berth and rest after today… and as your sparkmate, I am asking you to talk to me.”

He wants to express his appreciation and gratitude towards his medic, but with the way Ratchet throws Optimus’ arm around his shoulder allowing himself to be leaned on for support, already going on about how he should be taking care of himself and to rely on him more, Optimus knows he’ll never be able to come up with enough words to even touch the surface.

Looking down at the one he loves the most, he quietly utters, “I promise, my Spark.”

And he swears to himself he will keep his word.

 Primus damn him if not.

* * * * * *

“Miko, I’m going to have to take you home at some point.” Bulkhead tries to goad the girl into finally agreeing to go home and rest. Said girl sitting in the passenger seat, blankly staring out the window, watching the desert sands fly by, her eyes drooping every so often.

“No. Just a little longer… we- we haven’t found her yet.” She whispers, her normal spitfire personality nowhere to be seen. Bulkhead rolls to a stop, conflicted on what to say. There’s nothing he can say or do to uplift her spirit.

“Miko, we don’t know where Starscream may have-. What I mean to say is, we don’t know where Y/n’s body is.” Bulkhead does his best to gently explain that they may never find Y/n’s body, knowing he’s failed when he feels the girl curl up on his seat, legs hugged tightly to her chest.

Another moment goes by before Bulkhead gets an idea, “You remember how I lost my friend, Cliffjumper? Well, since we couldn’t bring him back to base, we made a small site to remember him. I-I know it’s not the same, but you can visit it anytime you’d like.”

“...please?” She lifts her head just a smidge, something other than emptiness shining in her eyes since she was told about her first friend in the US.

By the end of the next hour, another rock structure stood by Cliffjumper’s gravesite.

Taglist: @the-unhinged-raccoon @hystericalanarchy @mythicallystupid @darkfangx399 @nixblizzard16 @crowleysthings @delectableworm

[myheadhurtscutely]

Star Stationary - Modern!Anakin Skywalker x Reader - Chp. 2

C ` Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Summary ` Since the Halloween party, you've been kind of down about the brown-haired girl you saw Anakin kiss, but no time to fret. Anakin can't bear to see you sad for long.

!Warnings! Angst. But little fluffy bits here and there

wc ` 1.3k

notes ! this is closely based on characters, Jim and Pam, from a tv show, The Office.

Chapter one

It had been a couple weeks since you and Anakin walked out of the party to deliver him to that beautiful woman in his front seat. As much as you hated to say it, you cried on the way to your car. You only knew him for a bit, but something about him felt special. A type of feeling you never had before. A gut feeling that you two were supposed to meet. Regardless, suck it up and move on. You had better things to do then sulk.

Today was the first time you had even made eye contact with him since then. He had slid some papers over your desk to fax. You looked up, expecting to see one of your other coworkers, but your eyes followed the trail from his silver watch, to his pale blue sleeve, his neatly tucked collar, up to his tanned neck, his tightened jaw, and finally, his beautiful baby blues. It was only a quick glance, but it was as if this was his way of asking to go back to how you were. A small gesture where he says he needs you.

"I um, I need you to fax this for me please." He adjusted his glasses, as you merely nodded, grabbing the papers off your desk. You felt his eyes follow you to the fax machine, and soon his feet followed suit. You stood there, eyes unwavering from the papers and the machine. His remained glued to you, as if he was in a trance.

"Here you go." Your voice was quiet as you handed them back to him. His hand brushed your pointer finger.

"Thank you receptionist." His little joke didn't land. You just stared at him. In his awkward state of embarrassment, he nodded his head and walked back to his desk. You tried not to think much of it, but god how you missed him. Your desk felt empty without your blonde statue to stand in front of it and pester you when you were in a pinch.

Your eyes drifted to his direction often times, and his to yours, but your visions never crossed paths.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────

Lunch rolled around after what seemed like ages. You had made yourself comfortable in one of the blue chairs in the break room. Alone. Everyone had already taken their lunch earlier, but you had become so slammed at one point you had almost forgot.

Mid-bite into your sandwich, the door creaked open. A pair of blue eyes briefly met with yours, but you quickly removed contact, focusing back on your lunch.

"Stop doing that."

What the hell? Who did he think he was?

"I beg your pardon?" You finished your bite, turning to meet his eyes again.

"Don't play dumb. You know what I mean. I don't mean to come off rude..." His confident demeanor faltered for a second at the thought of hurting your feelings.

"Anakin don't-"

"Don't what? Ask my friend what's going on?" Friend. God, you had newfound hatred for that word and everything it meant.

"Nothing's wrong..." He had made his way to your table, scooting a chair out and plopping himself down across from you, leaning on his forearms.

"You know I can tell when your lying." You let out a fake laugh.

"Listen I've been there before... let me help you." Your eyes bulged. What was he talking about? Help you? Surely, he was out of his mind. You kept your mouth shut, chewing, waiting to hopefully hear more of his proposition. "Moving to a new place is hard. Having no one to talk to... let me help get you out there!" You let go of a breath you didn't know you were holding. "Padme has this friend-"

"I'm good." Padme. That name would ring in your ears the rest of the week. Hell, maybe even month. Your stomach twisted and curled at her name, completely making yourself blind to Anakin's pleas. You couldn't help but curse yourself for picturing yourself in her place. She had done nothing wrong, and you weren't that type of person.

After much consideration, you put the last bite of your sandwich down. "I'm sorry Anakin. You're right. I shouldn't have been such an ass." Both of you laugh and smile. As you walk to the door, Anakin opens it for you, guiding you through with his hand on the small of your back.

You cursed yourself for how it made you feel. But did you have a choice?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────

The clock ticked, 20 minutes till 5. Thank God. Your's and Anakin's playful antics resumed to a degree. Passing each other silly notes, sarcastic emails, and of course customer gossip.

RING!!!

The company phone pulled you out of your daydreams. You answered greeting them politely and offering your standard help. A feminine voice answered on the other side. She asked to be directed to Anakin.

"Of course, one second please!" Your smiley voice faded as you put the phone down and redirected her call. "Anakin, hey, line three!" You held up your three fingers and whisper yelled to him.

He shook his head, nodded, and smiled.

You genuinely weren't trying to be in his business, but his "business" client was beginning to sound like a very personal conversation. Anakin held his head low, and kept his voice down. You could pick up small bits of his sentences. He wasn't happy.

"I blocked you for a reason- Padme- please- I don't want to talk right now- stop it- c'mon" His low voice hummed under the white noise of the office.

After minutes, his telephone slammed back down in its place. The whole office jumped, looking over at Anakin who gently raised his hands, apologizing quickly, reassuring everyone.

After minutes of rubbing his temples, his eyes followed you as you grabbed your coat off the rack. Several other people were making their way to the exit. It was five and no one was in the mood to stay longer. You couldn't blame 'em. This white light was mind numbing.

After a moment of grabbing your belongings, it was just you and him.

"Hey," His voice called out to you. You turned to meet him. "here's that guy's number." Not quite the romantic confession you were dreaming of, but it was whatever. He handed you a sticky note with Padme's friend's name and number. He really meant the best. You couldn't be mad.

"Thanks.."

"Don't thank me." He smiled coming up to you, towering over you. He looked at you almost as if he was asking permission for something. You looked at him quizzically. His hands guided themselves to your coat, buttoning the first two top ones. "It's cold out y'know."

You knew, but he just made you feel warm inside.

"Cmon let's go." He stuck his arm out, offering it to guide you out. You playfully smacked him and walked in front of him, making your way to the elevator first. You quickly tried to get the door to close, but he stuck his hand through, triggering the sensors just in time.

He moved into the small space, parading his body weight over you, backing you into a corner, pretending you weren't there. "Anakin!" You said muffled.

"Oh sorry! Didn't see you there." He moved to the side, smiling as he took your light hits to his arm with ease. The rest of the elevator ride was spent with silent smiles, and muffled laughs, the kind of laughter only the two involved would understand.

Ding!

The doors opened, revealing the lobby to you and Anakin. Once again, he raced ahead of you to hold the door open, guiding you out the way.

You made your way to your car, and he had followed, opening the door for you. After you ducked your way inside, he gestured for you to turn and take your feet out of the door side so he could close it. "Drive safe alright?" He whispered, tapping the top of your vehicle.

"Yes sir." You chuckled, looking down. He just smiled in response, gently closing the door as he waved.

notes: THIS TOOK FOREVER I AM SO SORRY, FINALS AND STUFF ARE CRAZY. I am trying so hard to write because it is fulfilling, and I love communicating with everyone, but it has been stressful and I've barely found time. I promise I'll try and get better about it, just have a lot on my plate, (trust, I will eat tho). Sorry this one is a lot shorter, I just don't want to add onto a chapter if it doesn't feel fitting y'know.?Regardless, thank you so much for being patient with meee. I hope you enjoyed!

tags ` @darthgloris , @queenie-official , @bby-imasociopath , @mxltifxnd0m , @jayrami3 , @robertsmithclone , @brainscabs , @bimbo-baggins86 , @t8lzw

(<3)

[itonashi]

YOU are YOU

SUMMARY : Known around the world — a genius scientist named [Name][Last Name]. Everyone sought to be her as she was deemed perfect. A young prodigy that managed to climb up the ranks alongside her friends. She met her demise at the age of 35. It shook the world. Tears fall because of her. Will there be another her?

PAIRING : aquamarine hoshino x fem!reader

WARNINGS : implied deaths, stalking, drugs, slow burn romance, more will be added.

A/N : finished chp 1! even though i was in misery because of hsr. it's okay hehe. haha. i want gepard so bad. chp 1 is kind short even though it's like 1.4k words lol. i hope you love it my staggie ! (my followers name is staggie)

"Goro, don't you miss me?"

"Why should I?" Goro glance at you with eyes that could be interpret as 'in love'. Despite his replies to you, he knew that he misses you deeply. You changed him. Your existence gave hope to him.

Before knowing the world of idols and drowning himself in work as a doctor, you were the reason he kept on living. It was like a miracle. Meeting you on his last year of middle school, someone that's 2 years older than him. He never thought he was the guy to like older women.

Your hair that flow along the wind breeze of the countryside fresh air. The usual spot of your meeting place, the hospital rooftop. "Look at you being snarky..." You make a shock face. "Don't you have work to do?" He questioned the free time you have been having these days. You have too much free time for a genius scientist that's known around the world. A prominent figure in the science world that will go through history.

One of the people who had change the world through technology. Despite being a figure in the science world, you too have made it in the entertainment industry. Just what were you doing? Trying to live nine lives? You had appear in model shoot, even become a brand's ambassador. "You really are carefree.." He added with a slight chuckle and fix his glasses. You tilt your head "Well... I'm still young after all! A young woman have to make the best of her life." You gave an eyes closed smile.

He crosses his arms together and sigh "Whatever makes you happy [Nickname]." You lightly laugh and look towards the night sky. He stare at your figure. Even when you're only standing, he could feel the aura you let out. The strong aura that just screams 'Hey! I'm an important person in this industry.' He could never compare to you.

You went close to the railing and face him — leaning onto the railing. "Gorou, do I shine like a star right now?" He widen his eyes at the sudden change of atmosphere. The words didn't come out of his mouth, instead he probably look like a gapping fish. How could he forget how your eyes look like?

It was your eyes that made him attracted to you. It shine like the stars. Your eyes twinkle and had actual stars in it. Everyone agreed that the unique things about you is your eyes. They said that your eyes were like the stars dancing around the ocean waves.

"You do shine. You shine more than other people." He responded to your question with a smile. He wish that this moment last forever but the world isn't fair.

If only he could go back to this moment and make you stay this time. Would you and him become a family? Would the smile you always hold be in his mind forever? Can he still see your smile even after death?

Even after two years of your passing, he still hasn't move on from you. Your smile was engraved in his mind. The lovely smile you had. It will always be in his heart — like you always said to him "Well, I have always been in your heart." With the little laugh you did. Your soothing voice will always be his favorite.

They will never be another you because YOU are YOU. The world will always remember you. His genius scientist.

It breaks his heart how you have mentioned about a teen girl named AI Hoshino. The girl he would help to deliver her babies. He never thought he would ever met his patient's favorite idol. He never thought he would ever met the random teen girl he has heard about from you. 

Oh right, he haven't read the letter that was given to him the day of your funeral from one of your friends. He didn't read it yet because the condition was to read it after 3 years. Were you playing with him? It has been 2 years now... Only one year left.

Funny story, he didn't have the chances to read your letter because well he's dead! Duh!

'It has been two years that I have been in this body' You frown. I guess, you're finally accustomed with this body of yours. [Name] Yoshino, that was your name in this new body, new life. Such a coincidence that you will still be using the same name as your previous life.

Reincarnation? It was such a bizarre things to happened to you. You don't believe in it but she does. How are all off your friends doing? You can only see them on the TV but it was rare to do so. In your past life, you were a genius scientist that was in a world organization. Each of your friends are from another country. They were the people that managed to top the world alongside with you.

Only some of your friends appears in the TV as half of them prefer to work behind the scenes. Well, you hope they're doing fine even after your death. Did they read the letters yet? Did Goro read the letter yet?

How is the love of your life doing? Did he move on? Did he finally have a family? How sad. If only... You weren't killed two years ago.

What's this weird feeling in your stomach? Why do you feel like something bad is going to happen? You need to keep your guard up. You walked faster and stay clear from the crowd. It was night time.

'This is bad. Something is going to happen.' You furrowed your eyebrows in frustration. You felt sick but you can't drop your guard even in the slightest. Being a prominent figure means you're prone to assassination attempt. After all, you have always been unlucky in situations.

You have steered away from the crowd. A quiet place that's still within the city of Tokyo. A woman cannot be alone, you learned that the hard way but you felt like this time you need to be alone. Is it a feeling of death? Is someone watching you?

You saw a tiny flash and glanced towards it. "A sniper... He must've known I noticed him now..." You muttered under your breath. You took a deep breath. 'I can't avoid this anymore. I'm sorry, my little brother. I'm sorry, Goro. I'm sorry to everyone that I have lied too. I was always dirty but I will forever be thankful to him for saving me. Even in my death, I want to smile for everyone. After all, I just love these people the most. Will there be a person to avenge me?' You smiled towards the sniper and mouthed 'Do your best. I have done enough in this world, probably.'

Bang!

Blood splattered everywhere. A shot on the head is bound to be messy. The sniper gritted his teeth. 'I love you' was the last words you mouthed the moment you were shot on the head. The bloods on your clothes, hair, floor. Everything is messy. The messy life you have been living as a genius scientist. Do you actually want to live as a genius again? You can't keep lying to yourself.

You remembered your last moments very clearly. It can't never be erase from your memories. The date of your death. The time of your death. The place of your death. You can never forget about it.

Will you be lucky in this new life?

Or

Will you be miserable again?

You shake of the negative thoughts. At least you have parents in this life but they're weird, in your opinion. Well, who knows what will happen in the future. You're not some kind of god. Just a genius. A 'lucky genius' that's what they call you in your past life but no one knew of your past except for your uncle. Your past life's uncle. The man who took care of you after the death of your parents. Where is he now?

"[Name]! There you are!" Oh, it's your mom. Akemi Yoshino, the woman who hold you for nine months. She's a beauty to say the least. She held you in her arms and kiss your cheek. You make a gibberish sounds to pretend. Your father, Kazuo Yoshino watch by the sidelines and only smiled. What a weirdo. Either way, you don't know if you will get close with your own father.

Your mother was a actress that quit due to being pregnant. Was she popular? Kinda. She have made an appearance in a commercial ad. Your father is a film director that's famous. Means, you came from a rich family now. Not that you weren't rich in your past life. To be born into a family on the entertainment industry is a stress though.

Expectations will come for you.

TAGLISTS : @glitch-karma @kult-o @miyakoa (if you ever change your use pls inform. i couldn't tag some of you.)

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itonashi © // don't plagiarize, copy or edit my works.

[landoscar-f1]

Too Sweet for Me - Chp 01

taglist (strikethrough could not be tagged): @alessiali @piastri-my-boy @adreamerinadream @landosgirl please fill this form if you wish to be added!

pairing: CS55 x fem!reader, eventual!OP81 x fem!reader genre: fluff, angst, slow burn, smut chapter warnings: relationship anxiety, distrust, hints of carlos possibly cheating (pls lmk if i missed anything!) ch 01 wc: ~580

teaser | masterlist | next

Read the chapter under the cut

Carlos was the embodiment of a BookTok boyfriend, at least in the years of your friendship and the first few years of your relationship.

But things started to go downhill about… two years ago.

“Carlos, do you want to go out with Lily and i? Alex is going too,” you yelled to the man sitting on the couch, engrossed in his phone.

“No, hermosa, you go. I’ll stay home for some sim work,” he yelled back at you.

“You’ve been doing sim work all week, love. Take a break, the season’s already ended. Fred should give you a bit of a break now, shouldn’t he?” you asked, coming out of your shared bedroom.

“I know, amor, but the break doesn’t mean I’m free from work. They need to get some sim data for the car next season.” Carlos had walked over without you noticing, and you jumped a bit when he kissed your neck. “You should go, take a break from your work and have fun with Lily and Alex.”

You forced a smile and nodded. “Alright, if you insist. But you owe me a night out, okay?”

“Of course, I do,” he said, his eyes briefly flickering with something you couldn’t quite place.

As you got ready, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. It wasn’t the first time Carlos had opted out of plans. In fact, it had become a pattern. You glanced at your reflection, trying to push the doubts away. Maybe he really was just busy.

Later that evening, at the bar with Lily and Alex, you found it hard to stay present. Your mind kept wandering back to Carlos, alone at home. Or was he?

“Hey, you okay?” Lily’s voice broke through your thoughts.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, forcing a laugh. “Just tired, I guess.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Carlos working late again?”

You sighed. “Yeah, he’s been buried in sim work for weeks.”

Lily exchanged a glance with Alex. “You deserve a break too, you know. Maybe a weekend getaway? Just the two of you?”

“Maybe,” you said, though you weren’t sure if a getaway would fix what was starting to feel like a growing distance between you and Carlos.

When you got home, the apartment was dark except for the glow of Carlos’s laptop. He was asleep on the couch, his phone beside him. You picked it up to move it, and the screen lit up with a notification from a name you didn’t recognize.

You hesitated, heart pounding. You knew you shouldn’t invade his privacy, but curiosity got the better of you. You clicked on the message.

It was nothing explicit, but the familiarity in the words made your stomach churn.

“Can’t wait to see you again.”

Your mind raced with possibilities. Who was this person? Why had Carlos never mentioned them? The doubt that had been gnawing at you now seemed to have a name.

You put the phone back down and took a deep breath. You needed to talk to Carlos, but not tonight. Not when you were this emotional. You needed to gather your thoughts, figure out how to approach this without jumping to conclusions.

As you climbed into bed, you glanced at Carlos, still asleep on the couch. The man who once made you feel like the luckiest person in the world now filled you with uncertainty. And as you stared at the ceiling, you wondered if your relationship could survive this storm.

all credits to @landoscar-f1 2024

[jolapeno]

20. rainier grey

frankie morales x f!reader | epilogue of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.8k chapter warnings: dad!frankie. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. flirting. they're no longer idiots. an: the end

prev chapter | series masterlist

read on ao3

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

You sure you got everything from the house, baby? I think so! Does this mean you're giving the keys in?

Unpacking another box, you slide a photograph onto the shelf, right next to his. You smile, shifting it, trying to make your things look like they belong as much as his.

Evidence of you already slotting in. Books sitting with his, plants finding homes in corners that look as though they were made for them.

Yeah. Unless you've changed your mind? Not even a little bit. Good. Because I already handed them in. And what if I had said I thought I’d forgotten something?

The bubbles in the corner appear, fluttering and twitching, until they vanish. You roll your eyes, grabbing a tissue-wrapped small artificial cactus, placing it, and tilting your head as your phone vibrates.

You know I’ve checked the place twice. Did the sex chair go into storage okay, by the way?

Even from here, you know he snorted. A breathy laugh, one that has and will always make your lips press together before sliding up into a smirk. You giggle at it, imagining him trying to suppress it if he's with people. Shaking your head at the image as you see him typing.

You gotta stop calling your office chair a sex chair. Well, the only thing that happened in it was that. Gonna drive now, you menace. Hurry home, baby.

Sighing, you rip the tape from the underside of the box and flatten it, staring at the wasteland of boxes that have taken over his living room. Despite the chaos, you feel like you're finally home, for the time in a long time.

A thing you'd whispered to him when he'd hooked his leg over yours in bed this morning.

Steam billowed, carrying the scent of spices, tomatoes, and herbs blending into the air as you hear the front door open.

It brings a smile, tugging at the corners of your mouth, even though this should feel ordinary by now. A thing you should be used to, it feels like the first day all over again.

No more boxes, all unpacked, places for everything and newly learnt routines that you know to listen for.

Head turned to the doorway, hearing one thing after the other landing in the bowl: Keys, wallet and two thuds of his boots being removed.

It's all a routine now, something normal. Dinner is divided between whoever arrives home first. If he gets home first, he starts it, the two of you relying on the board on the wall to keep track. The one that's a vibrant array of colours—butterscotch orange, dinosaur green, and rainy day blue—highlighting the various shifts, jobs, and school pick-ups your month has in store.

This week, it’s a lot of orange. Things are picking up, with more word getting out about Frankie’s business and what he can do. The reviews are trickling in, and you know he’s already quickly outgrowing the summer house in the back garden. You commented on it when the two of you made the decision, something he assured you would be fine. You still agree that paying for two homes wasn’t a wise choice when he was already taking a risk.

Risky—a word you could never use to describe him. But a word you let him have, relenting, melting into his arms as you bid goodbye to the office he made you, with the promise of a better one in the future.

Now, standing in the kitchen that used to be just his and is now ours, you count in your head the seconds until his arms slide around your middle, his mouth pressing a kiss to your head.

“Smells good.”

Turning your head, fingers sliding under his chin—you steal a kiss, and another, sliding your digits around his jaw before they’re tangling in his hair.

“Could get used to this.” You hum against his mouth, murmuring a what that makes him smile, smirk, right up against yours. “You in our kitchen.”

“Well, it has been months now—I’d hope you’d be used to it.”

Shrugging, running his hands up down your arms, he steps back and leans on the counter. On the days when he beats you home, you bring home stories of Harry, customers and the random paint name you’ve found that you make him guess the shade of until he gets it right. Tonight, you ask him how his day has been. A mundane question, a thing that arises every day and yet the answer is never the same.

He talks about another enquiry, how the photos of your old office space, in the place you once called home, had inspired another couple to get in touch. And you try not to smirk, to wear a knowing smile, but instead nod, stirring and grabbing plates as he folds his arms and keeps his gaze on you.

A thing you thought would have lessened, but hasn’t.

“You need my help with this one, or?”

Shaking his head, folding his arms—looking you up and down as he traces his tongue across his bottom lip.

“What?”

“We said if we did this you wouldn’t try and do it all.”

You might not groan outwardly, but you do inwardly. His brows raise as though knowing so too, a thing which almost drags a laugh out of you. Almost.

“Come here,” he says, hand extended, finding your slides in as he drags you close. “I appreciate you, you know that?”

“I do.”

Good, he whispers, brushing your cheek with his thumb—the roughness of it making liquid heat spark in your stomach as you bite the inside of your cheek.

“You want a hand dishing up?”

Shaking your head, you kiss his wrist. “No. Go change—you can’t do it all.”

His snigger stays in the kitchen with you, long after he’s left to go change.

Luca told me something interesting at drop off.

Not sure I want to know.

Apparently, we’re getting a dog?

Little shit. No. He asked me and I said I’d think about it.

Well, apparently he thinks that Saturday when we pick him up we’re going to get him a dog that lives at our house.

Fuck.

Fuck indeed.

Are we against a dog?

It takes a second for the squeals to calm down.

Your arms may be scratched, and you may have wanted to sob as you tried to build the crate on your own, but the joy thrumming inside you as Frankie wrestles the puppy and Luca screams with laughter makes it all worth it.

It feels right that there are two bowls on the kitchen floor, both sitting on a plastic mat covered with paw prints.

It makes the home feel complete, even with a wet patch on the rug, even with your new shoe marked with tiny teeth marks, and even though you're exhausted beyond words.

Grinning, you lean back on the couch, watching Frankie pretend to bark and growl as the puppy tries to nip at him. The two alternate between rolling around, evading each other, the creased laugh marks on Frankie's nearly enough to make you get on the floor and join him, just to brush your fingers against them.

Instead, you teasingly poke the boy next to you. “Luca, what do you want to call him?”

Mouth sliding from side to side, Luca shuffles and bounces along the sofa before his head comes to rest on your arm. Frankie shifts to playing a version of tug-of-war. “Tyler.”

“Tyler?” Frankie asks, pausing to stroke the retriever's ears.

Luca smiles and then beams. “Like tyrannosaurus.”

Somehow, you suspected you should have seen that coming.

“Okay, well, Tyler needs to go to the toilet. Do you want to try and take him?”

Luca, nodding and smiling, taps your arm. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course I will.”

As you stand, you catch sight of Frankie beaming up at you, warmth flooding your cheeks and ears at the sight of it.

What are you doing for lunch, baby?

Well, I was going to treat myself to a coffee and maybe a sweet treat. But what are you thinking?

I was thinking of letting Tyler out, bringing you fast food and sitting in the office at Harolds?

Oh, it’s been a while since we’ve done that. I like that our roles have reversed here.

I know. Do you know when Harold will let you have lunch?

Delivery is almost away, and then I just have to do a few bits.

I’ll be there in an hour. I’ve missed your face today.

Sounds good. Maybe you should have spent more time with it this morning then, than between my legs.

I have zero regrets about how I started my day.

“Have you seen the yard—I think that’s enough room for Tyler, how much bigger can he even grow after a year, and look here...”

Your fingers loop in between his, tugging him, practically dragging him with you to the kitchen window—the slightly overgrown grass and white fence greeting the two of you.

It’s the eleventh house the two of you have seen. Fingers brush over his thumb as he follows you around the rooms in a house that’s spacious, with three bedrooms, and two-and-a-half baths. It’s airy, light—ridiculously bright.

But it needs work.

A thing you can tell he’d thought on sight, even if the most he’s done is make a snort or a hum.

You suspect Frankie is paying more attention to the things wrong with it, than what is right. Missing some of the things you point out to him, too busy calculating square footage as the two of you walk around it. Ignoring your opinions on floor-to-ceiling bookcases and hallway mirrors, if the two of you could get a bigger bed than you both have now.

You do think he catches that you think Luca should have the largest room—your reasoning dripping from your tongue that he needs space as he grows up, that you both have a bigger closet in the second biggest.

“—And, we'd probably need to get him one of those beds soon, the ones where he has space under for a pull-out or a desk. The closet is decent, but we’ll have to get him some drawers too.”

Your fingers trace along the doors of the closet as he blinks, coming back to you, to the house, to the room.

“Wait—what…”

And you smile. Not just with kindness or joy, but with everything. Push it outwards, hoping it stretches its warmth out over the entire room, hoping it’ll surround him, maybe he’ll allow it to wrap itself around him as you tilt your head.

“I think this should be Luca’s room.”

Walking towards you, the heels on his boot sounding on the wooden flooring. “Baby, you can’t think that. For one, this house is—“

“Perfect,” you finish, palms finding his cheeks, thumb stroking the hair on either side of his lip. “It’s perfect, Frankie.”

You can see it, even if he doesn’t say it: it isn’t.

You’ve suspected for a while that he has an idea of a home the two of you should have. He’d whispered it to you three months ago in bed, head buried in your neck, fingers fanned over your hips as he talked about garden size, a pool, a workshop and even an office.

In some capacity, this house ticks some of those boxes. It has a spacious kitchen, it has a decent yard and a pool that needs a deep clean. There’s a room that could be an office, but would most likely be a spare bedroom for friends, for Benny or one of your own.

And, you’re grinning. Watching him smile in response, all radiant like he thinks you’re the reason the world rotates.

Then he says it, the thing which has been ticking behind the scenes. Unsaid, unspoken—ignored as though it doesn’t have its own pulse. “You deserve better.”

You don’t mean to, but your forehead wrinkles, brows knitting together as your smile fades into a thin line. Feeling it, etched and written across your face as shame works across him. The evidence of a battle he’s having with himself—something churning, twisting as you slide your hands down his neck and loop them at the back.

It’s clear now it’s been needling him—likely making his chest tight, wrapping vines around his chest, all thick and full of spikes, as he rolls his neck and sighs.

Tilting your head, trying to keep your tone level, you whisper, “Baby, what do you mean?”

Because the realtor is downstairs.

Not wanting to cause a fight—a scene. Your skin prickles as you momentarily panic that you’re whisper isn’t a whisper, when his mouth opens, but no sound leaves it. Worry tangles in your head, and in your throat as you move closer. Wanting more words to appear, to conjure, tell me, tell me, tell me, burning a hole in your tongue as you need him.

Your hand brushes his cheek, forehead smoothing out—concern replacing earlier confusion. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The edges of your mouth twitch. “And, I love this house.”

He snorts, shaking his head as you glare.

“Don’t… don’t do that, Francisco. Don’t think for me because you’ve concocted some image of what I want.”

Letting his eyes hang down, he sighs. “I’m not–I’m not doing that.”

“You are. You… you’re looking at each house as if it has a checklist to meet—like it’s being measured against something.”

“Doesn’t it?”

You sigh, dropping your hands from his face. And you miss touching him the moment you do. Wanting to place them back, have him take your wrists and put them back, but you’re already folding them, shaking your head as you stare out the window.

“You can’t be mad at me for wanting the best for you.”

You snort this time, narrowing your eyes as you shoot him a glare that says you can, and you will.

“If, and I mean if we take this house, I… I want, no, I need to do a lot of work on it. Because you deserve the house of your dreams, and admittedly, I can’t afford to give it to you. Because houses are fucking expensive, but I can make it for you.”

Biting down on your lip, you glance, catching the sight of him running a hand over his face. Fingers pinching the inside of your arm as you try not to let tears bubble, swim and then fall.

“I… I don’t want that.”

“What do you mean?”

You look up, blinking away the tears. Seeing the doubt spread across his face, like he wants to rewind the clock—take back ever saying you deserve better.

And you don’t want to fight, not with him.

“Frankie… I don’t want it to be my dream house, I want it to be ours.”

He takes a step towards you. “I know.”

But you raise your hands, not pushing him back, but not inviting him in either.

“But you don’t. You’re not picturing a doorframe we can keep measuring Luca growing up. You’re not thinking of warm Sundays with our friends around the pool—and you’re not seeing the lick of paint needed so our bedroom is a little dimmer, so your eyes don’t burn from all the off-white.

“I don’t need an office—I like working with you and at Harold’s. And, yes, I’m not walking around thinking you won’t have to do anything to this house, because, of course, you will. You’re good, you have an eye. We wouldn’t even be thinking of buying something bigger if you weren’t. But, you started a business a year ago—we can’t afford perfect. But we can buy good and make it perfect. If, and when you stop thinking of me, and instead us.”

Brushing a hand over his face, he takes a moment. Swallowing a sigh, an annoyed grunt. His fingers itch at his forehead, pushing strands of hair under his hat before he drops it and stares at you.

“You really want this one?”

Nodding, you roll your lips. “What about you?”

And so he looks around. Hands digging into his jacket pockets, walking in slow footsteps around the room—

Hoping you've helped him see it, picture it, with all your earlier ramblings.

Where the wooden trunk he made will go, the bed you just talked about—the prints of stars, spaceships and galaxies. He glances out of the window, spotting the long drive and the trimmed grass—the quiet neighbourhood that he could teach Luca to ride his bike in.

He feels you come up behind him, arms sneaking around his waist, his hands clutching your fingers as he smiles.

“You want to take another tour, Morales?”

He smiles, nodding, before he turns in your arms so he’s facing you, clutching your face as he kisses you. One which is full of sorry’s and love.

He lingers his palms on your face, just for a fraction. “Will you tell me all the other things you picture as we walk around?”

Grinning again, like before. One which would rival the sun and the beauty of the full moon on a clear night sky.

“Sure,” you whisper, taking his hand, leading him out of the room that in several months will be his son’s.

I’ve packed our case and it’s in the shower in our en-suite, so do not turn the water on without looking. Luca’s is half done, but just need you to help me with a few last-minute bits?

Can I ask why our suitcase is in the shower or am I missing something?

Luca is being nosy. He goes into our bathroom but not into the shower. Trying to keep a surprise from him is harder than you think when I apparently “have lying face”.

You do look very suspicious when you lie.

Good job I don’t have to lie for a living.

Is he behaving?

We’ve baked cookies for tomorrow—even if he thinks it's for a movie day. And he’s currently using my iPad to talk to Sam.

I keep hiding in rooms with boxes so he doesn't ask me things.

Rainy, baby.

I know, but it's only a few more hours, right?

Yeah, promise. Sam called me earlier, and said she has managed to get Monday off so she can meet us there on Sunday—says we should pick somewhere in the park so she can surprise him properly.

Do you want me to get to thinking and then text her?

If you don’t mind baby? I should be done here around 7.

Sounds good. Gives me something to focus on until you're home.

You sure you're doing okay?

I’ll be better when we tell him tonight, I’m feeling really bad about lying to him even if it’s for a good reason.

I promise you, the moment he realises we’re going, you’ll see how it’s worth it.

I know. Plus, the promise of you in Mickey Mouse ears is really keeping me going.

The photo of you getting off one of the rides is what is keeping me going.

Mean.

But I love you.

Love you too.

Peaceful—that’s how you’d describe it.

Condensation slips under your fingers, sliding under your wrist, pooling at the watch strap as you hear him shouting something to someone as he makes his way over. The music is quieter over here, the loud voice that attempts to synchronise with the lyrics seems less shrieking, and more full of harmony.

You were only hovering on the outskirts to call to see if Tyler was okay, and then you found yourself lingering. A moment needed, not questioned or protested.

You know that's why he’s been biding his time. Watching, eyes flicking to you just in case you beckon him to come. Now, you smile as he approaches, it pulled from you with so much ease it's reactionary at this point, no thought. Just a-Frankie-smile, all his, hopefully forever his.

The once-warm air has now cooled, whipping the fabric around your frame as he saunters over.

“Wondered how long it would take you.”

Snorting, he takes a sip from his glass—letting it wet his lips, admiring the same view you have been for some time.

Slipping his hand around your waist, you move closer with ease. Hip moving to hip, cheek coming to rest on his shoulder—contentment filling your bones when he brushes his fingers up and down your back.

“You cold?”

“Not now.”

And he smiles, light—it coming with ease now that he has you back by his side.

“Missed you.”

“That’s because you’re a needy boy, Butterscotch.”

Snorting, he buries it in your neck—light, airy—before pressing a kiss to your head and turning to watch those moving on the dance floor. The soft glow of twinkling lights shimmering in his brown, fingers teasing up and down his white shirt.

The moment is only punctuated by a distant sound—a shift in melody embedded into the night breeze. It takes a second, one far too much before you recognise the tune, the song. Smirking to yourself as you remember your passionate rendition in his car the other week. An updated version to the one over a year ago. The look the same, though, all grin, all teeth and almost crinkled eyes.

You feel him turning your head, eyes meeting his.

It’s simple, uncomplicated—a movement that seems rehearsed as you move, leaning, resting your head on his chest as you feel a soft sigh escape his lips.

“When we do this, we’re eloping.”

Brow arching, he smiles. “When?”

“Like you’re not desperate to slip a ring on my finger, Morales.”

Snorting, resting his chin on your head, you take a comforting breath.

Hearing him swallow, you look at him, finding his tongue flicking against his teeth as he stares ahead at the party. “What if I was… desperate?”

Smirking, finding his eyes now on you, even if his head is facing forward. “Well, Frankie, maybe I’d be desperate to say yes.”

Have I told you today you’re beautiful?

Are you texting me from across our hotel room?

I am. I can see your smile in the mirror.

How the roles have reversed. You look good in a suit, have I told you that?

Told me I look good in a different kind of suit today.

Oh baby, you always rock that one very well.

Can’t believe I’m marrying you today.

Can’t believe there’s a chance I’m going to be married by the real Elvis today.

I hope he says uh-huh-a-huh.

If he doesn’t, I say we annul and try again.

You do really look beautiful.

You should take a photo with Will’s camera—I guarantee I’ll get sauce down me.

You and white.

It’s actually rainier grey, but maybe I should have worn butterscotch.

Not sure I’d have survived that. Already pretty close to falling apart at the sight of you now.

Shut up and come here and kiss me.

AN: The End.

God, I was emotional last week, but as much as I am this week, I'm just grateful. Grateful you've all followed, that I got to tell this exactly how I wanted to. But, mainly, that you let this pair into your hearts. I love you, thank you.

[amarayys]

EPISODE 13 CHP 2 DRDT SPOILERS.

so. WHAT THE FUCK. Levi has basically no empathy confirmed. He wants to be liked but he doesn't understand what caring about others is like. Ace tells levi to die. Lmao. Also he's so suspicious +He mentions the only person who he ever trusted. WHO NOW??? Eden and Arei doomed yuri. We get Arei and David flashback. Arei's cg looks like sora from sdra2s final cg btw thats just a random thought i had. Arei you can't do this to me. She really said "I'm a piece of shit but so is David so let's fix eachother" AUHSVGDHBJFKL Okay. EDEN. WHAT THE FUCK. EDEN. NOBODY SAW THIS COMING. I WAS SO CONVINCED IT WAS TERUKO BUT IG NOT??? Eden took Xander's eye out. So. Eden's probably a traitor, though it's probably not voluntary - we see her crying as she holds the bloody fork. I'm sorry, but with this, I think Eden culprit and Levi accomplice theory is over. I just don't think it works. Also how in the fuck does Arei know about that. my girl eden getting character development real david lying cause he thinks hes tough shit teruko DEFENDING LEVI??? YALL???? SHES PROJECTING HOW SHE FELT IN CHP 1 ONTO LEVI AND DEFENDING HIM I HATE HER /pos DAVID SNEEZING SPRITE LMAO. okay so all secrets are revealed. Teruko is either lying or mistaken about her secret, cause the look David gives her after it CANNOT be innocent. this does tell us something though - the family one applies to teruko, if shes not lying on purpose. but...what??? Who does family refer to? It cant be her parents, she never knew them. And she barely remembers her brother. Maybe it's the others at the orphanage, or her friends? Also, she feels survivors guilt apparently and wished she died with whoever family is. Somebody give my girl Teruko a break. EVERYONE SMOKES TERUKO FOR NOT KNOWING WTF THE SPINNY THING IS. Fandom cheers as Teruko finally stops getting interrupted and explains the murder method. WHIT AS A DOG HAD ME CACKLING I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING. We see that Teruko's drawing isn't much better than her handwriting (which we get more samples of btw!!!!!!!) Nico's gonna have to explain the murder... maybe the theory that Nico was framed by / helped someone is true, but idk. Teruko's interrogating the shit out of them. So. Culprit? I think realistically, the best options for the culprit are Ace, Rose, and Whit. Maybe Hu, Veronika or Nico if you squint REALLY hard but I doubt it. I think Ace is SUPER suspicious, half because vibes and half because david calling his ass out here

Rose definetly has potential to be the culprit, but idk. im tired leave me alone. WHIT. EVERY SINGLE FUCKING THING YOUVE SAID THIS TRIAL IS SO SUSPICIOUS. YOUVE BEEN THROWING BLAME ONTO LEVI CONSTANTLY. U KNOW ABOUT HANGING SPECIFICS FOR SOME REASON. UR SO SUSPICIOUS UR NOT SUSPICOUS ok thats it unrelated to this post, i made a doc of my live reactions to stuff and here are some things i wrote that i thought were funny

I am tired but this episode was SO good. I'll probably make a more in dept theory/post on it tmr lmao its 1:36 am.

[armandisdaddy]

I Will Break You (Chp 2.)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen (Pirate) x Fem OC (Mermaid/Siren)

Word Count: 2,116

Content/Warning(s): !!18 PLUS!!, Non-Con/ Dub-Con, Violence, Masturbation, p in v penetration, taking virginity, Choking, Descriptions of Blood/Violence, Abduction, Obsession, Toxic.

Author’s Notes: This is set within The Golden Age of Piracy (1650 to 1726). I don’t know why I thought of this, but I think the best stories are the ones that just pop into your head. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 2.

After such a gruesome transformation she had become “human” her webbed fingers were now separated. Her sharp talons were now dull and thin. Her skin was pale and flawless and the gills on the side of her ribs were gone. She was now completely exposed to Aemond and seeing her this way only made him want her more. He held her tight while she shook uncontrollably in his arms. He could tell this was traumatic for her but he also knew that the small comfort he provided would make her more subservient to him. The crew call “LAND HO!!” and he knew he was back home.

He wrapped her in linens and when they were fully docked he quickly whisked her away and placed her in a room with a small window. So she could see the ocean, but it wasn’t big enough for her to try and make an escape. He place her on the bed and chained her wrist to a the bedpost. She was exhausted and had passed out on the way there. He looked at her face so pure and unknowing. She had no idea what kind of man he was. How cruel and cold he could be but she would soon find out. His calloused fingers grazed her soft cheeks and those supple lips. He felt himself growing hard in his breeches and he groaned softly.

He removed the linens from her naked form and he inhaled sharply while his hand grabbed at his crotch hoping for some relief. He couldn’t hold back anymore. His hand reached into his pants and pulled his throbbing cock from its prison. His hand tugging roughly at his cock he groaned watching her sleep her precious skin and supple breasts pushing him further. He was tempted to touch her but did not want to risk waking her. He imagined how her beautiful voice would sound once he was inside her. The way her voice would rise and fall with every sigh of pleasure.

He shiver softly feeling himself coming closer to his climax. He tugged harder and faster his teeth digging into the flesh of his bottom lip as he released into the same linen he wrapped her in falling into the bed slightly. She tossed a bit and he stood quickly removing the linen from her bed and getting himself together before he left her to get some rest. She tossed and turned throughout the day her dreams being filled with the dreaded night she was captured. She could feel his hands wrapped around her throat squeezing every bit of life she .

She was awakened by a maid coming in to leave clothes for her. “Hello, milady’ I’m Lydia your handmaiden. Master Aemond told me to bring you some clothes to wear and breakfast is almost ready.” She looked confused trying to make out what she was saying, but it was no use. But she did manage to mutter her name. “L…L-Ly-Dee-A.” Lydia looked to her in surprise and giggled in excitement. “Well, that’s a start, miss. I guess I have to teach to ya English.” She saw the chain holding her to the bed and her eyes softened and filled with sadness. She knew the Lord of this home was a ruthless man but he had never brought a lady here against her will. She didn’t think he was capable of such a thing.

Lydia helped her put on a beautiful midnight blue dress with crystals embroidered into the bodice of the dress. She brushed her hair letting her dark tresses flow within their dry natural state. Her hair was wavy and touched the small of her back. She looked over her and was taken aback by her beauty. “You look beautiful, miss.” She looked to Lydia and remembered that look all too well. She smiled and thought maybe she could get her to free her from these chains. The ocean surrounded this place and if she could escape these walls she could swim to freedom.

But just as she was ready to sing her song he barged in. She backed away from the maid and sat on the bed. She shook in fear, her breathing became erratic and the memories of the night before came back in waves. She climbed onto the bed finding a space against the headboard where she pulled her knees to her chest. Aemond’s gaze was cold and unfeeling, but within him was a fire raging. He saw her and his heart pounded against his chest and his stomach felt like it was doing flips. He looked at her as if she was his salvation. Even as she cowered he couldn’t help what he felt for her.

He was filled with complete and utter desire. He couldn’t help himself if Lydia wasn’t standing there he’d take her now, hell he would take her with his whole staff watching her. He burned for her. “Leave us..wait until I call for you to bring up breakfast.” He commanded and Lydia lowered her head as she exited her room. He walked around the large room watching her closely. It killed him to not feel her soft skin in his hands. To smell the scent of salt on her skin. He held his composure and sat at the foot of her bed. His head turned slightly to look at her from the corner of his eye.

“I do not wish for you to be afraid of me…but you must understand that you belong to me now. This is your home now.” She actually understood him very well and could even speak a little, but she would’ve rather these humans think she was incapable of speaking, but in this very moment she was angry. “Home…is water….” How dare he try to keep her in this place like a song bird in a cage. She was made to be free. Being subjected to these stone walls would only kill her slowly. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips and he turned completely to face her.

“You’ve been holding out on me my little sea demon. What else do you know?” He spoke to her so condescendingly. He didn’t even care what this would do to her. He only cared for his own desires. It was just like a human to only care about what he wanted and not what the consequences of his action would be and in a quick fit of rage she sprang forward digging her fangs into his neck. He screamed in agony and she wrapped her arms and legs around him pulling him in close. Her eyes were dark and filled with malice and the flesh of his neck began to tear. She reveled in the sound and the coppery taste of his blood.

Unfortunately, he managed to stand and elbowed her in the ribs over and over until she relented. She smiled at what she had done holding her side and she scurried away into a corner of the room. He held his hand to his neck and one of the male staff came running to his aid. “You fucking wench…you are going to regret that.” He could barely stay on his feet as he stumbled out of her chambers. It served him right the cunt, she thought to herself. She laughed maniacally to herself with crimson staining her chin and face, trickling down her chest and staining her dress. He had forbade any of the staff to come to her room ever again and she stayed isolated for the remainder of the day.

Night had fallen and he decided he’d pay her another visit. The dull brown shade of dried blood was still on your face and he entered with a warm bowl of water and something else in hand that she could not quite make out. He pulled up a chair and beckons her to come to him. She was hesitant for obvious reasons and placed and a clothe into the bowl. “Here you do it, I won’t touch you.” She pulled the bowl away and wiped her face and chest clean.

He watched her closely and noticed her back was turned. Without warning he came from behind pulling something up to her mouth and fastening it around her head. A muzzle…she fought to pull it off but he was too strong for her. “That will teach you to bite the hand that feeds you.” He whispered in her ear and inhaled her scent as his hands began to wander. The slipped into the bodice of her dress feeling those supple mounds of flesh. She fought to pull away from him but he pulled her back against his chest and wrapped his calloused hand around her throat. “You aren’t getting away this time, Demon.”

His breath was hot against her skin and she was in a panic as he tore away her dress exposing her body underneath the sheer chemise that cling to her now sweaty frame. She dug her nails into him trying to pull away from his clutch with all her might. He enjoyed the fight in her as sick as it may sound. The more she fought the more he wanted her. “Please….” She muttered her eyes softened and filled with fear as he stood between her legs ready to take what was rightfully his. That made his cock throb harder within his breeches. "I'm sorry little dove...I can't stop."

He let his breeches fall to his ankles and his cock sprang free. Her eyes widened from the sheer size and she shook her head no over and over. He admired her body while he pressed his cockhead against her puffy clitoris. The sensation sent a shock through her body. The feeling was unfamiliar and a bit pleasant. She shook herself from the hazy feeling and moaned in protest. He stroked himself slowly while he bucked forward letting his head press against her entrance with every push. She gasped with every thrust anticipating the unwanted intrusion. Your sisters often talked about the use of man. To help us procreate and to eat. The process was never this close or intimate.

Lost in her thoughts she was rudely pulled from them when the sharp pain of him pushing inside her caught her attention. She hissed at him instinctively and grabbed onto the sheets of her bed. He groaned involuntarily and the snug feeling of her walls. He pulled back and saw the blood smearing against his shaft and he smiled at the sight. He pushed her legs up against her chest and leaned his head back at the sounds of her soft whimpers and sighs. She despised him, she even wanted to kill him. The thoughts of taking him under the water and watching the light leave his eye always played in her mind, but at this very moment the pain began to subside and the sheer feeling of pleasure filled her belly.

Her legs trembled and her breathing was heavy. He smiled noticing how aroused she had become and he let his right hand grab at her breast pinching her soft pink nipple causing it to harden between his fingers. If looks could kill he would've been decapitated in the act. How dare he muzzle her like some wild animal, violate her, and make her feel good all at the same time. Aemond grew tired of that evil look in her eyes and wrapped his hand around her throat giving just the right amount of pressure to make her lightheaded but still letting her breathe. She didn't know why, but that sent her over the edge. She felt that unsettling feeling in her stomach building as he pounded into her and fell forward on top of her biting into the flesh of her shoulder causing her to scream. "That's it..." He mused into her ear.

That stupid voice of his made her lose her train of thought. He was ready to come undone himself, but he didn't want to stop. His pace quickened and she could no longer hold herself together. Her legs trembled and her blood and slick smeared his cock. He could feel her walls convulsing around him and without another thrust, he poured his seed into her. They lay there in silence. The only thing that could be heard was them catching their breath. He stood to his feet and let his hand graze her thigh. She still lay in the high of her orgasm but when he touched her again she flinched and hissed. "That wasn't enough, huh? Alright... I'll try something else." With that, he put on his clothes and left her to clean herself up.

To be continued...

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