#warping image warning

[ebb---andletgo]

i’d save a life if i thought it belonged to you.

home with you, dir. fka twigs, 2019.

[calypsolemon]

Hi, just wanted to say I LOVE ur Underworld God and Chima God oc's!!! I had a question tho. Does the Chima God have any ties to the sun whatsoever?

From what I recall (although I'm not a Chima expert so anyone can feel free to correct me) they had this thing called the "Mother Sun", which was basically like some sort of God or something.

I'm aware that you didn't watch Chima tho so this may not make as much sense, but is ur Chima God oc like, the Mother Sun or something?

Yes! She is referred to as Mother Sun in the transcendent au canon.

There is a handful of god characters quickly whipped up from a glance at wikipedia for the sake of having the reference to other lego "realms" like this. Mother Sun plays a slightly larger role than ones like say, a nexo knights god or the great beings of bionicle in the story however, since chima is ninjago's sister realm.

I guess in a sense she's not really an oc since she was already established as the goddess of the world, but since details on her were kinda limited we obviously took a lot of liberties re: design, personality, backstory, etc.

[thisthatpinkvenom]

IT'S SWEATPANTS SEASON, OH MY!

JOCK!SAN / BAND GEEK!FEM READER

⤏ Synopsis: Autumn has arrived; the season of pumpkin spice lattes, corn and—unfortunately for you—grey sweatpants. those pesky little things have attached themselves to your boyfriend's legs like glue, and you're having a hard time keeping your mind out of the gutter.

⤏ Genre(s): drabble*, fluff, humor(??), smut, smut, smut

⤏ Content: jock!San, band geek!fem reader (I know, I'm so original), you're referred to as "sweet potato" once—don't ask, just go with it, established relationship!au, college!au, non-idol!au

⤏ NSFW Warning(s): dry humping, unprotected piv (it's fiction, guysss. use your rubbers and stay safe!), creampie, just lots of build up because I'm down bad for a man in grey sweatpants 🙈

⤏ Note*: this content is completely fictional.

The mosaic of orange and yellow was striking below the dull blue clouds as the trees continued to shed their leaves. Your eyes swayed with the leaf you'd been watching descend its way patiently to the ground while you sat on the bench, shoulders jittering in the midst of the decreasing temperature. Your hands peeked out from the ends of your sleeves before rubbing together, the crisp morning air making your fingers tingle in the cold. You should've worn a thicker jacket, is what you mulled over in your head that you hadn't even noticed San until he enveloped his own padded jacket over you. The gust of warmth awoke you from your reverie and you hummed, meeting eyes with him when he lowered himself into a squat.

"You didn't have to come here," he said, a dimple indenting his cheek as he curled one corner of his mouth upward. After pulling the hood over your head, he tenderly brushed his thumb across your cheek. "I know you're not a morning person."

You struggled to fight a yawn until you decidedly gave in, white fog manifesting in your breath.

"I want to support you," you murmured. You were too busy blinking away your fatigue to notice how he looked on in nothing but fondness. Your conscience warped your thoughts when you scanned over the jacket engulfing your frame, your lips forming into a small pout. "Mm…aren't you going to be cold?"

San took a glance at his attire; he's only got a windbreaker left to keep him warm. Nonetheless, he shook his head and insisted he was used to practicing like this on the field. Despite wearing less than you and the flushed red on his nose and cheeks, you couldn't really tell if he felt the effect of the weather as much as you did. You couldn't fathom how he had the motivation to get up at the ass crack of dawn to run around with a ball, doing drills with his teammates while Coach Kim rapid-fired pointer after pointer without a stop to catch his breath. It truly was admirable how smiley he was at 7:00 a.m. without consuming any caffeine.

Coach Kim sauntered along the grass before he blew his whistle and commanded the team to group together. Your boyfriend looked over his shoulder before turning back to you, eyes squinting as the sun's orange glow began to blanket over the field.

"Well, gotta start soon," he observed. "Stay warm and if you're sleepy, just go back. I'm happy you're here but don't force yourself to stay. All right, Sweet Potato?"

You made a small noise of confirmation, unfazed by the odd affectionate nickname you had gotten used to over time. The heat of his palms skimmed over your ears as he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead before standing tall. But what you didn't anticipate—whoa—had really slapped you awake right then and there. For the mere five seconds you'd managed to capture a mental image, time felt as if it'd been stretched to hell when your boyfriend's crotch had leveled with your eyes. You hadn't realized the grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips and now that you've gotten a face full of…that, you're acutely aware.

You're shook to the core.

Your gaze trailed after his jogging figure, following the path up his long and toned legs to his cute little bu—okay, whoa! It's only 7:15 in the morning. You had no business indulging in these thoughts right now. Get it together.

Oh, he's facing your general direction now.

Are you staring at it too much? It's starting to feel a little warm, all of a sudden; it's the jacket, isn't it? Just how long is this going to take?

You're trapped on this bench. It hadn't even been 10 minutes since practice started and Coach Kim was rambling on about the importance of warming up while you're glued to your seat, pathetically staring at your boyfriend's dickprint while he seemingly had no idea. God, you felt like a perv. Even though he assured you that it was okay, you didn't want to just up and leave. This was a relationship built on give and take, and there were one too many times when he watched your concerts while knowing little to nothing about orchestral music.

You'll just suffer, then.

"Just fuck him."

"Lisa!" you chided, pushing three fingers against your friend's arm as she rolled her eyes.

"What?" She swirled her tongue around the glob of chocolate ice cream sitting on top of her waffle cone. "He's a hot, charming guy. Your own boyfriend makes you horny and that's supposed to be a problem now?"

"Oh, my gosh, I just…" you trailed off, eyes searching elsewhere for your thoughts. "I'm not used to being all"—you waved your hands disorientedly in front of you—"dirty…minded. He's the one who usually initiates it."

"Sex?"

"Everything physical, really," you clarified. "I just feel like if I start it, it's just going to be off—and awkward."

You sighed. "How am I going to get through this season?"

"Oh, yeah, the sweatpants; that's what's been making you a sex freak," Lisa recalled with an airy laugh. "Those things are like lingerie for guys. Especially the grey ones…oomf. 'Dicktoria's Secret' is real," she snorted.

You gave her a blank stare.

"Look, just be honest," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world—which it was. "You really think any guy is gonna find it offensive that his girl's drooling over his bulge?"

"I wasn't drooling—"

"You will be."

"Oh, my gosh."

You weren't aware that having a footballer-boyfriend automatically signed you up for three months' worth of almost nothing but sweatpants. You also didn't know how many he had stashed in his wardrobe until now—it's good to know he didn't wear the same pair everyday. But this meant he had enough pairs to flaunt his dick outline in your face whenever you were together.

Not good for your cavewoman brain.

Fingers danced along your neck and you squirmed at the intrusion, meeting eyes with San's own with your face sporting a frown. The same fingers belonged to the arm lazing comfortably around your shoulders, both of you having snuggled together into mush on his couch while you binge-watched one of your favorite shows. You whined his name in annoyance when you're kicked out of your thoughts.

He chortled. "Sorry, I just—it's Buffy and you don't even seem that into it. Is everything okay?"

Let's see: it's a Friday night. His roommate, Mingi went to visit his parents for the weekend and you're all alone with your hot, charming boyfriend™ who's clearly gone commando under his sweats. And you're supposed to be watching Buffy slay vampires…how?

"Y-Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" you stammered.

He hummed in feigned ponder, and the knowing smirk surging its way onto his lips would've sent a churn in your belly if you'd actually caught sight of it.

"You know that my eyes are up here, right?"

Your eyes snapped up in panic, and silence was the only response you had sitting on your tongue. You wanted to hide in a cave, where you could wallow in embarrassment without disturbance. Your own boyfriend had just caught you ogling his crotch like a perv.

San tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, suppressing a smile at how you resembled a deer in headlights. "You thought I wouldn't notice?"

Your mouth was stuck in a battle between opening and closing as you desperately searched for the right words. With a defeated sigh, your face fell into the safety of your palms.

"This is so embarrassing," you groaned, words muffled against your hands.

"Hey," he laughed softly, grabbing your wrists in an attempt to retract your hands away from your face. "It's not a big deal"—you sighed when the light from the standing lamp washed into your eyes—"it's cute."

You gave him a funny look. "Cute," you stated, doubt laced in your tone.

"Yeah. Usually, I'm the one doing all the staring."

He scanned you up and down with a pondering pout on his lips, continuing on to ask, "It's the sweatpants, isn't it?"

"Do you have to state the obvious?" you whined.

"What? I just wanna make things clear, so I know what to wear for you," he teased. He shifted closer and smoothed a hand up your thigh. "I'll wear more for you."

If he felt the goosebumps on your skin, he didn't comment on them.

"You say it like it's lingerie," you quipped, recalling what Lisa said a few days ago. You're saying anything to distract yourself right now, but you crumbled easily whenever he touched you. And he knew it well, especially when his hand moved dangerously close to your pyjama shorts. You're not even sure if you were breathing.

"If it's gotten you like this, then I'd say it pretty much is."

He moved on to say, "I like it when you look at me like that."

Your expression was frozen. "Like what?"

San's eyes changed ever so slightly, his hand finally slipping between your squeezed thighs.

"Like you really want me."

Your thighs parted for him. "I…I do," you murmured.

"Oh, really? Where do you want me?"

"Where else?"

"I asked you first."

You made a quiet huff from your nose, looking down at his hand that's aching to pull your shorts down. "Inside"—you hesitated—"inside me. I-I would like it if we had sex…please?"

His lustful gaze turned softer, eyebrows raised high at your interesting way of words. While you, on the other hand, visibly grimaced. San found your eyes shutting tight and your nose scrunching up all too adorable, and without a doubt, he would've bitten your cheeks if he could.

With a chuffed smile, he hooked his fingers at the waistbands of your shorts and underwear, waiting for you to lift your hips. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's have the sex now."

You sulked at his incessant teasing, knowing well enough that he was purposefully expressing his words awkwardly. He laughed and assured you he would stop there, before grabbing your now half-naked body by the hips and having you straddle him. His fleece sweatpants were rough from the continuous use, giving you some nice sense of friction on your sensitive nub.

But above all that, you could feel the presence of his cock hiding beneath his pants, your pussy lips spreading the slightest on his erection. Your breath hitched as his hands made their way under your sweater, then your shirt; reposed comfortably at your hips as if they made home there. The pads of his fingers kneaded your skin as he looked up at you with expectant eyes.

"C'mon, get yourself off for me."

You waited with bated breath for nothing in particular—you'd just been momentarily distracted by his intense stare. Nodding too many times in the span of a second, you began to move your hips under the guide of his hands.

"Oh…"

There was a minor ache in your hips when he dug his fingers deeper in your skin, but you were too focused on the soft chafing of the fabric against your clit. It was getting you in the right place; so rough.

"Are you doing okay, Baby?"

You released an unstable sigh. "Y-Yeah."

He eyed the way your skin slightly folded with every move you made on his clothed cock, teeth pulling at his bottom lip. Your motions grew faster and more impatient as you yearned for his mouth against yours, falling forward before your lips touched his.

He pushed you down each time he pulled you forward, earning growingly unsteady breaths from you into his mouth. You nearly choked when he bucked his hips upward, soft moans having no chance to escape when each were engulfed by his lips. You continued to do nothing but mindlessly grind your clit on him, humping his clothed cock like you were in desperate heat.

You didn't have the mind to warn him at this moment, unable to hear anything but your own moans until you were reaching your impending climax. And soon with trembling thighs, you came. Your skin grew rampant with shivers while your mind went elsewhere for the bite of a second.

San finally spared some mercy, separating from you with a thin string of spit connecting your lips before he's splitting it with a lick from his tongue. Stealing a glance at the dark spot you left on his pants, he served you a lustful, lopsided smile.

"This is what you'll get if you're just a little more honest with me," he chuckled.

Your ears grew hot at the sight of your arousal leaving its mark, adjusting yourself with your hands on the backrest behind him. You waited a few beats to gather your words before you muttered, "Well…can I be honest with you right now?"

"Of course."

San waited with patient eyes, his stare nearly melting you into goo while he thumbed your skin again.

"I'd like to have the sex—with your penis inside me…please."

He didn't try at all to suppress amusement at how you'd poked fun at yourself, hearty laughter producing from the pit of his belly. The dimples in his cheeks emerged from hiding as he grinned and nodded while pushing his waistband down, just enough for his cock to free itself. When his laughter had settled, he pressed a peck on the tip of your nose.

"Whenever you're ready."

You grabbed the base of his cock and pressed the tip against your entrance, pausing for a moment until you began to slowly but surely, sink entirely down his length. The stretch always started as an odd pressure between your walls, but once they'd completely swallowed his dick whole, it always left you wanting more. It's a feeling you don't think you could ever give justice to, if you were ever asked to describe it. He was just so right for you.

Your body gave into him as he pulled you flush against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist like a tightened belt. His hushed groans were made only for you, and hearing them continuously by your ear sent shivers down your spine.

"So warm," he muttered under his breath. He slid his bum further down the couch with you in his grasp and spread his legs wider. And when he was sure of the angle, he rolled his hips to meet yours, finding a steady pace with the most agonizingly unyielding thrusts. With every slam of his hips, your moans rendered into off-key whimpers as you melted under his guidance.

It felt like you were experiencing the hottest temperatures of the summer; your cheeks were burning and at moments, you felt like pushing away just from the sheer heat of your bodies entangled together.

A cuss left your boyfriend's lips when you gnawed on his shoulder, the salty tang of sweat grazing your tongue. And as if he wasn't holding onto you tightly already, he pulled you even closer as his cock rammed relentlessly, his rhythm growing sloppy when he began reaching his peak.

Your back felt like it'd been bent beyond repair as his cum coated your walls, the familiar twitching of his cock presented inside you. But he didn't stop there, he wouldn't until you came as well. And with his jaw clenched, he fucked into you like you were his toy, white rings of his own orgasm spilling with every move and making way to stain his pants.

"C'mon, Baby," he grunted. "Cum, f-fuck—cum, fucking c-cum…"

And in a few more thrusts, all you saw were specks of white among darkness. Your pussy spared no consideration on his sensitive cock and clenched as you trembled, the string of swears leaving his lips going deaf on your ears. Your limbs fell limp to pure exhaustion, despite how much you wanted to just wrap them around him like you were a koala and he was the tree. You wanted to mark your kisses all over his face but not even your lips were functioning right now as you barely managed to muster out a "thank you".

It was clear that it took a moment for San to register what you'd said, before he let out a breathy laugh. Not because he found something funny, it was just one of those laughs you got when you felt so euphoric—like getting your balls drained until you were a moaning mess; that kind of euphoric.

He kissed the top of your head, looking ahead at the TV where Buffy was still slaying vampires as usual. His dick stayed inside you, soft and relaxed in your warmth, neither of you in any rush to clean up.

"Mm…remind me to buy more of these sweats."

[oizysian]

Monster Fucker | Wanda Maximoff

Pairing: Monster!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader Warnings: dubcon, magic penises, demonic tongue action. Word Count: 1.3k Summary: After the Darkhold takes over Wanda, she goes after the one who would love her no matter what.

•Kinktober Masterlist•

She was a monster; a hideous, grotesque warped version of her former self. Despite the fact that she barely even responded to her name, she was still my Wanda.

I watched as she crept towards me, her eyes glowing a deep, dark red, almost completely hidden by the crown that became one with her; covering her eyes and sprouting out of the top of her head like demon horns.

“Wanda …” My voice was strangled, desperate. “You have to break free of the Darkhold. This isn’t you.”

She opened her mouth and bared her razor sharp teeth, her tongue languidly falling from her lips and hanging, dripping eagerly with saliva. She looked … hungry.

She continued to approach me, her breathing heavy as she reached her hand out towards me. Red wisps sparked from her fingertips and wrapped around me. I could feel her slipping inside of my mind, inside of my body, and I did my best to fight it. I couldn’t let the evil of the Darkhold take both of us.

“Wanda …!” I cried, trying my hardest to hold onto whatever little control I had left. “Don’t do this!”

I thought then that she was going to kill me. These were my final moments. The woman who I had loved so dearly, who I had tried so hard to find and save, was going to be the death of me.

She hissed softly, advancing on me, and suddenly images of us in the throes of passion flooded my mind. She was trying to weaken my resolve, and it was working.

“Wanda,” I half moaned. “Stop.”

A wicked smile appeared on her lips. She knew exactly what she was doing to me. Her tongue jutted out, caressing my throat and slipping into my mouth. I fought against her, twisting my head from side to side to free myself, but she was much stronger than I was, and had the advantage.

She retracted her tongue, leaving a messy trail of saliva in her wake.

“Mine.” She hissed, her claw like fingers coming up to caress my cheek, trailing down to the collar of my shirt.

I trembled under her touch, my breathing ragged as I watched her. Her nails went right through my shirt, slicing through it like it was nothing.

“Wanda!” I cried as she let my ruined shirt hit the floor, standing before her in just my bra.

I tried to pull my arms from her magic binds, but couldn’t. I was completely helpless and open to her. She didn’t seem as though she wanted to hurt me, but this wasn’t the Wanda I loved. This wasn’t my Wanda.

Her tongue came down and swirled around my covered breast, soaking the fabric and forcing my nipple to harden under her demonic touch.

I groaned, fear and arousal flooding my senses as she continued to touch me with her long tongue.

“Wanda, y-you need to stop.” I whimpered, her fingers flicking towards the rest of my clothes, leaving me bare before her.

Her smile widened at the sight of me; trembling, aroused, frightened - because of her.

She got down on her knees in front of me, spread my legs with her magic and licked my inner thighs, her long tongue flicked and teased my heated skin before dipping into my growing wetness.

“Oh, fuck, Wanda.” I felt my knees buckle, and thankfully her magic was holding me up, preventing me from falling.

She grabbed at my ass, spreading my cheeks and letting her tongue run from my pussy to my hole, and I could feel my whole body throbbing.

“Wanda, holy shit, fuck.” I moaned, my hips rising to meet the strokes of her tongue.

She let out a low growl, her strong tongue slipping into my cunt again, filling me up completely. I let out a whimpering moan as she fucked me, wishing so badly that I could touch her.

I looked down at her, taken back by the demonic look of her before pleasure rocked through me and I felt nothing but love for her, despite her current form.

I came all over her tongue, but she didn’t stop thrusting up into me, and I could feel her within every inch of me. My slick covered her face and tongue, her hands still gripping me tightly as she fucked me within an inch of my life.

Her tongue slipped out of my heat and trailed its way up my backside, dipping into my tight hole.

“Wanda, wait …” I groaned, my hips still rocking against her despite her prodding my most sensitive area.

I let out a low moan as she fucked my ass, flattening her tongue against my mound so I could grind myself against it as she fucked me.

This monster was still Wanda. She fucked me like Wanda, was careful like Wanda, and compassionate like Wanda - she was Wanda.

Tears built up in my eyes as I was overtaken by the sensations, grinding myself along the length of her tongue while she gently slipped in and out of my ass.

Her nails gently dug into me, leaving little blood trails in their wake. Her eyes met mine and I could almost see my Wanda behind her steely gaze.

“Wanda,” I whined, struggling against my binds. “Let me touch you. Please.”

She pressed her tongue against my clit and I groaned, feeling another orgasm wash over me. I had never cum from someone fucking my ass and playing with my clit before, but it was always something new with Wanda.

My legs shook as I came against her and she licked up all of my cum, cleaning me up and teasing my aching clit as she did so.

“Please, Wanda,” I couldn’t handle another orgasm so soon. “Too much.”

She purred softly, licking me gently as she let me come down from my high. Her magic loosened up on me and she lowered me to the ground with her, releasing me as she laid me out, crawling up my body.

She licked my neck and throat and I held onto her shoulders, bringing her close to me. Before I could say or do anything else, I felt a weight against my thigh. I looked down between us to see Wanda’s naked bottom half now sporting an erect, blood red cock.

“Wanda …” I whimpered softly, shifting against her.

She snarled against my neck, causing me to freeze in place as she thrust herself up against me.

She grabbed my leg, lifting it up so she could slip herself inside me with ease. She practically purred into my ear as she pumped in and out of me slowly, letting me adjust to her size.

I wrapped my free leg around her hip as she pounded into me, grunting softly against my neck as she fucked me. I could feel her throbbing inside me, and I knew she was close already. I squeezed her cock, milking her and she growled, grabbing my face and kissing me forcefully.

She pressed her tongue into my mouth and I moaned as she filled my cunt with her cum, her sharp teeth cutting my lip as she kissed me. She licked up the tiny droplets of blood and continued to stuff my pussy with her thick cock, breeding me like the animal she was.

She let go of my thigh and brought her hand up to my throat, wrapping her long fingers around it and squeezing ever so slightly, heightening my neverending high.

I panted softly as we both relaxed, her fingers around my neck loosening and her cock slipping out from my aching heat.

“Mine,” she snarled again, licking the hollow of my throat. “Mine.”

“Yours.” I said as I stroked her hair softly, almost comforted by the soft purring coming from deep within her chest. “Yours, always, no matter what.”

•

@natashaswife4125, @poison-blackheart, @aemilia19

[hurthermore]

»»------► 𝚁𝚞𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚜 (18+)

Pairing: 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Summary: 𝙷𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚕; 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎.

Word Count: 𝟹.𝟼𝚔

Warnings: 𝙺𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚜, 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕, 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝, 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚝

A/N: 𝚆𝚘𝚠! 𝚂𝚘, 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝟷𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚊𝚕, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚢 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜- 𝚂𝙾 𝙸 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝚅𝙸𝙳𝙴!! 𝙱𝚒𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖; 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊 𝙷𝚄𝙶𝙴 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎!<𝟹

𝙹𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎!

Dealing with the effects of a rut was a notion Alastor was all too familiar with, and one he had surprisingly found rather effortless to maintain throughout his years in hell. A rut for the cursed Radio Demon was but a moment of time on the yearly calendar where the simplicity of agitation affected him more so than usual, and was, in no means, sexual, despite the biologicality of a ruts mere purpose. 

Yet the complication of a new addition to the Hazbin Hotel had recklessly disarranged not only how he had felt towards the emotion of love, but the usual easy going months of a rut. The simple inclusion of you had riled up his rut in a way he never could have expected as he found himself reduced to a panting mess, craving your touch as his cock begged to be kissed by any part of your skin.

Not only was the desire of sexual intercourse new territory for Alastor, but it was a desire he had promised himself to not overtake his well controlled sense of self presentation. He couldn’t; he had an image to uphold and allowing any absurd yearning to dictate his actions was not only unbecoming of him, but detrimental to him.

So he did the best thing his mind could conjure; to avoid you and any thoughts of you until his rut finally reached the end of its exploits. Which was not only painstakingly difficult, but had annoyingly set a rather unsettling feeling inside of him as you had embedded yourself in a place within his usually vacant heart; his want to be with you, to engage in meaningless chatter with you, to simply bask in your presence, regardless of his rut, was consuming him more and more as he continued to avoid you.

It was difficult in both regards; his body, heart, gut, and cock all begged to be near you, but his mind demanded he keep his distance, to avoid your presence from worsening the need to fuck himself into you; and oh was that a task in itself, but one he had managed to pull off. He had noticed, of course, being the observant man he was, that it had deeply hurt and affected you as he avoided you for almost a month straight. The face that you would pull whenever he would allow his shadows to warp him away from a room you had entered, or whenever you attempted to call out to him, had his chest constricting in a way he wasn’t used to; a way that hurt his innards.

He had, to alleviate the pain of having to deny you his presence and the pain his rut had brought him, found himself busying his time with ridiculous chores around the hotel; ones he would usually leave for his owned souls to be allocated in. It had helped, for a time, until the remnants of your voice that reverberated through the hotel always ended up tickling his ears in such a lovely tone, forcing him to hide within the confines of his own materialised space every single night; only to pierce his long taloned claws into the barks of trees as he refused to even touch his own cock to relieve the pulsing of his sex that begged to be snugged within the warm and wet walls of your cunt.

Yet he found tonight was different to his usual need to hide from you. Your voice had yet again alerted him of your presence being in the lobby of the hotel, precisely in the bar area, and he had heard his own cursed name fall from the lusciousness of your lips in vexation. The familiarity of your silked voice had his cock throbbing in lust instantly, forcing his yellowed teeth to penetrate into the skin of his lower lip in an attempt to alleviate the sensations that his rut had inflicted upon him. But, for some reason, this time, his body had won over his mind as his hooves began to lead him closer to your voice. The pent up afflictions of everything he had allowed to build up over the course of the month had affected him dearly, and even though he usually refused to give in, this time, he couldn’t help but allow his primal urges to make the decision for him.

Drawing closer to your voice like a man entranced by a siren’s song, his breath began to heave as drool cascaded down his sharpened chin, hoping that no one would witness him in such a state; no one but you. But as he rounded the corner to the lobby of the hotel, his ears twitched in irritation as the familiar voice of Angel Dust shook through his system. 

So you weren’t alone.

Rolling his own eyes, jealousy began to course through him. He knew if he hadn’t been avoiding you, you would be stuck to his side, not some adult picture show actor. As envy began to overtake him, the logical side of his mind was able to convince him to hide away in his room again, just like every other night, only to wreak havoc on his own living space to combat the sensations; but before he could turn away, you had spoken something that had made his heart pump in pain.

“I think Alastor hates me.” 

He didn’t know why such a small sentence had affected him so; if anyone else had said such a thing he’d simply laugh before ignoring it, but the fact you believed he hated you had pained him in a way that had his body screaming to comfort you, to set your mind at ease despite how the other half of his mind wanted to reject his urges. Tightening his smile ever so slightly in pain, he allowed his body to once again dictate his course of actions; actions that had him warping himself into the shadows that lurked around the dimmed room before hiding inside your own shadow as you continued your conversation.

“He’s been avoiding me like the fucking plague, Angel, I don’t know what I’ve done or said to him that could’ve caused this, and everytime I try to talk to him he just disappears.” The torment in your voice had broken him, and although he knew his avoidance had hurt you throughout the past month, he had not taken into account that it would have manipulated you into believing he hated you. He had only wished to avoid facing his problems of the unfamiliarity of sexual arousal, an arousal that longed for you, as well as refusing to allow himself to lose control of his well put together persona, refusing to allow the possibility of his body pouncing on you before rutting himself deep inside you, despite how much he wished to do as much.

“Maybe he found out ya’ like him an’ wanna fuck his deer daddy dick and got all grossed out ‘bout it.” Angel had commented before laughing; smacking your back in jest, not realising how harshly those words most likely affected you. 

Fuck.

Alastor wasn’t expecting the sensations of his rut to flare up so dramatically as the implication of you not only reciprocating his feelings, but the additional implication that you also wanted to fornicate with him was made known to him. His shadowed self began to tremble ever so slightly against the floorboards as the thought of you screaming out in pleasure below him swarmed his mind, dousing it in provocative images of you bared and ready for him.

“That’s what I’ve been thinking too. I can’t imagine anything else that would make him avoid me to this extent.” You had confirmed Alastor’s speculation as you responded to the porn actor, making the blood rush almost instantly to his already throbbing and needy cock. His body was reacting more erratically at this newfound information, and the desire to simply bend you over the bar right at that moment before fucking you in front of everyone around was becoming an urge that was rather difficult to fight off. 

Tensing everything within, his overflowing thoughts of simply pumping into you drowned out the conversation between yourself and Angel. His ever consuming imagination of burying himself deep inside you before pumping his knot into your core was all that he could conjure in his mind. The only thought that doused him was seeing your pretty little abused cunt filled with his cock and cum. He hadn’t known how long he had stayed there, attached to your shadow as he allowed primal thoughts of mating with you surround him, but clearly long enough as you began shimmying yourself off the stool next to the bar before clicking your heels against the floor.

Focusing his attention back onto you, he prevented the deep growl that threatened to leave his larynx as his oculi fixated on your form; the same form that wore a ridiculously short dress with stockings and garter belts that squished so tightly into your skin so tight that he could see the fat of your flesh pop out from its indents ever so slightly. 

Who did you think you were, allowing anyone to witness the soft plush of your skin?

You were Alastor's; only he should have the privilege of seeing such things.

Not registering the overly possessive thought that usually would have alerted him, Alastor continued to watch your movements from behind as he trailed his shadow along with yours. He hadn’t noticed his surroundings as you entered the library, his gaze solely focused on the slight sway of your hips and how the fat of your thighs undulated with every step you took, not until you stood still at an aisle within the room, looking for a type of book.

It was at that moment he recalled why he had avoided you for the past month; the desire to completely make you his was becoming too much, so much so that he had found his hand reaching out from the shadow below you, attempting to reach for the thick of your thighs, just for a tiny touch. But reason overtook him, causing his movements to halt, his fingers straining in a twitch as he denied himself the sweet touch of your unknowing skin; he couldn’t do this, regardless of how you had reciprocated his emotions, the estrangement of desire and love was unbecoming for him, a weakness he didn't want to exist.

But then you had to bend over as you reached for a book, your short dress riding up your hips as you did, gracing Alastor’s eyes with the flimsy piece of lingerie that covered your puffy cunt. His breath had hitched and his rut began screaming, demanding, forcing him to reach out to you, to finally consummate with you, but your own posterior achieved that for him as you bent your knees, unintentionally brushing your clothed core against his reaching fingers.

Before you could scream from the sudden touch, Alastor had quickly conjured a black appendage from the bookshelf, plunging it into your opening mouth, forcing the scream that threatened to abrupt from your throat to be silenced within your oesophagus. Materialising himself from the shadows he had once hidden himself within, he stood tall behind you, wrapping his taloned fingers against your throat before pushing your front against the bookshelf harshly, knocking some novels onto the floor in the process before he pushed his own front against your back as he humped his hard throbbing cock against the small of your back.

The terror in your eyes had made his cock twitch within his suit pants, but he needed you to know it was him, not some stranger doing this to you; so he tilted your neck back, forcing you to look up and into his eyes as he stood tall behind you. As your eyes connected, the terror in your eyes seemed to disappear instantaneously, replaced with shock and a glimmer of hope; lust.

“Such a filthy little darling aren’t you?” He had whispered in your ears as his cock still rubbed against your lower back. “Making me feel these things; this is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” His tone came out more frustrated than he had intended; but he was indeed frustrated, frustrated that you had made him lose control of himself.

The appendage in your mouth slowly left the confines of your throat as Alastor wished to hear your beautiful voice that called for him everyday, only to smear its tip across your lips as you coughed ever so softly. “Al-“ You began to speak as he rubbed his pelvis against you with more vigour. “Why are you-“ Your sentence contorted into a choked moan as his fingers around your throat were replaced for the same appendage that had just explored your mouth. 

“Why am I doing this?” He completed your sentence for you as his talons caressed the sides of your waist, rubbing his thumbs into your clothed skin before hitching them skyward until his palms grasped your breasts. “Such a stupid little thing you are; a stupid, pretty little thing.” He groaned into your ear before allowing his urges to completely overtake him, his lips pressing sloppily against your cheek before his hands pulled the top of your dress down, allowing your bare breasts to become exposed to him. 

Growling ever so loudly, his fingertips squeezed and massaged your breasts as though they were his own personal stress reliever, pinching your erect nipples before pulling on your mounds without remorse, forcing your scalp to lean back against his shoulder as you moaned out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. “That’s it.” Alastor groaned against your cheek as he continued his assault. “Keep moaning for your master like the good little whore you are.”

The appendage around your throat tightened ever so slightly as you had begun reciprocating his harsh humping against you, forcing your posterior to grind against his clothed cock. 

Groaning at your positive response to his assault, Alastor's claws left your breasts to rip the dress off your body, the shredded remains falling to the floor. “Alastor-“ You had whined so seductively, making his need to rut into you more intense; something he didn’t think was possible.

“Keep saying it, my slutty darling; don’t stop.” He had begged you with demand before he dropped to his knees. “Don’t you dare stop saying my name.” A demand he threatened you with before his palms cupped the fat of your ass, squeezing it and puncturing his talons within it as you completed his request to keep crying out his name.

He knew, realistically, that he would not last long once he entered his overly needy cock inside of your lovely warm walls; especially with the fact of him being a complete virgin, and the pent up rage of his rut. Being the gentleman he was, despite how unruly his current actions were, he would never expect you to get him off without giving you the same satisfaction of a release. So he prolonged his tongue from his mouth before dragging it up the length of your stocking covered legs, covering the skin that peaked between your stockings and garter belt with his red salvia.

All the while he nipped and licked your thighs, you continued to moan his name, your hands gripping against the shelf before you as you prevented yourself from falling over from the sheer lust that was flowing through you. “Please, Alastor, please touch me.” You had begged so nicely, begged him to touch your cunt. He craved to tease you, to make you tell him exactly where you wished to be touched until you cried for him; but his need to fuck his cock into was too intense for any prolonging, so he gave into your request without question as he sunk his tongue between the cheeks of your ass before plunging it inside of your cunt.

With his face pressed against your soft and luscious ass as his tongue dove within your walls, the familiar taste of flesh doused his taste buds, but there was also another taste he had never experienced before; one that was unexplainable, but oh so lovely. 

His new favourite treat, he had decided.

Your cries of pleasure made his ears twitch erratically in all directions, making his knot swell within his already hardened cock. His hands never left the plush of your posterior whilst he fucked his tongue inside of your core, massaging the fat as your gummy and warm walls massaged his oral muscle that slicked deep inside of you.

He wanted you to hurry up; to come undone on his tongue, to scream his name from your mouth and collapse on the floor quickly so he could finally relieve some of the pain that his rut had brought upon him. Conjuring another appendage, he guided it to lace around your untouched and throbbing clit. The noises that escaped your mouth as it did only motivated Alastor to press harder, to plunge his face against you further to force his tongue deeper, harder, and faster inside of you.

The moans, the cries, and the whining that left your beautiful lips almost had him releasing in his own pants, especially as your stocking covered thighs began trembling; the muscles in your legs threatening to cease working as your orgasm began approaching. Alastor couldn’t help but let his own groan of pleasure out of his throat as you began pushing your ass against his face, gyrating your hips to ride his tongue as you cried out.

He was surprised no one had heard you yet; but that was the least of his worries.

Groaning yet again, Alastor's eyes rolled back in pleasure as the over fluxation of your orgasm began to soak his tongue and seep onto his lips, your voice screaming his name as you pushed your cunt against his face as you came. Eating up your juices, he pulled away from your core ever so slowly, a string of lubricant connecting between your cunt and his tongue refusing to tear until he conjured multiple appendages from different surfaces to grasp around different parts of your body; squeezing you ever so slightly before forcing your face to be pressed against the floor as your ass was pulled up.

“Such a pretty little cunt for such a dirty little slut.” Alastor groaned as he looked at your exposed puffy sex. His hands making quick work of releasing his cock from the confines of his clothes as he desperately craved to fill you up with his cum. “My dirty little slut, aren’t you?” 

You had nodded eagerly despite his appendages holding your skull down. “Yes, Alastor; I’m yours.” You moaned, telling him with your words and showing him with your body language how much you reciprocated his longing for you. Stroking a hand down your spine, Alastor pressed the tip of his cock against your welcoming walls.

“Good girl.” He groaned before pushing his cock inside you with a roughness you clearly weren’t expecting from the fucked out look on your face. He hadn’t expected the feeling of fornication to be so intense; so pleasurable. His cock was already on the verge of combusting as he soaked in the beauty of your cunt, the tightness and warmth it offered his length.

Alastor, right then and there, had decided he wanted this for the rest of his life; to have you, not only around his cock, but by his side.

Your voice screamed in shock as he forced his cock to hit against your cervix, making Alastor crave to push his throbbing knot to enter you; to finally fill you up. Rutting himself inside of you, he retracted his black appendages from your body before threading one hand through your hair whilst the other wrapped around your neck, pulling you backwards to flush your head against his chest.

Looking down at you as he roughly fucked his cock within you, he smiled with tension. “You’re mine now; you belong to me; I don’t care if I don’t own your soul. I will kill anyone who tries to keep you from me, do you understand?” You had screamed a flurry of yeses as Alastor pummelled his cock in and out of you after he had demanded for your submission to him; drool escaping your lips as his grip on your neck became tighter. 

“Look at me.” He had demanded, his voice scratchy and glitched as he pulled your hair back further so you could make eye contact with him; and once you had managed to focus on fixating your gaze on his red glowing eyes instead of how deliciously his cock slid in and out of you with such roughness, forcing your body to jolt forward with every thrust, Alastor groaned as he gazed back into your eyes. “Look at me whilst I breed you.”

You did; you looked at him so intensely, even when the pain of him forcing his swelled knot to push into you, pushing the tip of his cock to intrude within the opening of your cervix as he pushed the rest of his length in, you still maintained a passionate eye contact with him. You had screamed through it despite your ability to maintain a gaze with him, and those screams were music to his ears, forcing groaned sighs to echo from his lips as his knot finally locked inside you, his thighs twitched and his balls squeezed as his cock spilled his thick and heavy seed inside you.

Alastor hadn’t known how long he had stayed within your walls as his cock continuously came inside your cunt, but it had been long; all that pent up aggression and sexual tension released in one session, forcing a months worth of cum to be released into your welcoming womb.

Leaning down towards you; his cock still stuck inside your cunt, he placed a kiss against your cheek; a sign of endearment to mark you as his officially.

“Mine.”

»»------►𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (14) - Trance

Chapter summary: Astarion wishes he coukd freeze this moment in time, but fate has a way of interfering.

Pairing: Astation x female!Tav

Warnings: Astarion's POV. Mentions of trauma.

Word count: 2.6k

Series Masterlist . Ao3

Vampirism had warped his bodily need to trance. 

The tadpole had meddled with it even further and he barely found the need for it all, but there was some semblance. Now, it was back to what it used to be.

He had no actual need for it, but he had come to realise it was the only way to be with you without facing the prison his mind had become. It allowed him to bypass how it held back his body.

In his trance-induced dreams, he was finally free.

Whatever freedom meant to him, he was sure you were involved somehow.

Even if only bound to a dream and nothing more. 

After all, you had made it perfectly clear that a friendship was all you could offer.

He had made peace with that.

For the most part.

He still had these moments of wanting to slip into his subconscious and lose himself in you.

The mattress underneath his body was comfortable enough and the raindrops outside that thumped against the window, presented themselves as more than enough to lull him into the beginnings of a trance.

He let go of his weight.

He blacked out everything around him in the hopes he'd find you.

Your chirpy laughter was what he heard first. Unknowingly, a faint smile tugged gently at his lips. He could easily get lost in the warmth of your voice.

He was getting deep enough that your voice now had a corporeal form, too.

Your kind face took over each corner of his mind until all of him was you.

Astarion could barely withstand trancing unless he could conjure you this way.

You were the calm in a restless sea that kept on drowning him.

In his mind, he could find himself being with you with nothing holding him back.

It was freeing and soothing.

It was an illusion, and in the back of his head, he almost felt it slip away as awareness threatened to overtake. 

He frowned.

Your voice faded and your pleasant face held a grave expression. It was as if you could tell something was wrong.

And you'd be right.

There was something wrong with his trance.

As frustration began to dissolve the image of you, he let out a low growl of annoyance as his eyes snapped open.

And he immediately understood why it felt off.

Ava was standing near the edge of his bed, holding a sweet smile that he had grown to appreciate over the past few weeks.

“You were reaching for her again, weren't you?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It's the only way I can these days.”

She lowered herself to sit, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. “You know that isn't true.”

“Ava, I don't wish to be lectured,” he said, more harshly than intended.

She nodded and said nothing else.

There was nothing more to be said. She had tried to make him see that he was the only one standing in between himself and you. 

He had heard it all before and he was sick of it.

It wasn't as easy as snapping his fingers, because a large part of him didn't want your friendship.

He could find friends. In fact, he didn't even know if he needed friends. 

Your friendship wasn't enough, but he had no right to demand more when he was struggling this hard with his mind.

Could he even offer more? Did he even deserve more?

“Do you wish me to leave?” Ava's voice snapped him from his thoughts. “I can, but maybe a piece of advice is in order.”

His frown eased and he nodded. 

“I would urge you to stop seeking her in your mind. She's out there. You two have been seeing each other to honour your arrangement.” She paused briefly, studying his reaction. “I can lay here with you and help with your intimacy, but I'm not the one you seek.”

Silence.

“The chance you seek is within you and I believe she can help in more ways than one.”

He scoffed. “I can't ask that of her. This is not something she has to concern herself with.”

Ava leaned against the headboard with a sigh. “Lovers help each other through the toughest of times.”

The word ignited a visceral reaction inside him at once.

“We're not lovers!”

Ava didn't even flinch at his snarl. “But you could be.”

Ava was terribly skilled at worming her way under his skin. He didn't regret having gotten closer to her even if merely as an exchange of sorts.

“Leave.”

The word spilled from his lips like poison and he knew he wasn't being fair, but he couldn't stand talking about you.

Not with her.

You would be utterly disappointed that he was giving out his blood like this.

He was beginning to dread any talks of you with her.

Mostly because Ava didn't know you and no string of words he might voice would ever do you justice.

You had saved him from himself. You had trusted him when no one else would. You had been his first and he had been yours. 

How could he possibly put into words how much you meant to him? 

“Astarion, jus-”

He had made up his mind. “Leave. I don't need love advice from anyone – least of all you.”

It was harsh. 

And it was enough to cause her eyes to widen in unmistakable displeasure. 

“That was uncalled for.”

She rose to her feet and walked out of the room without sparing another glance in his direction, the door closing loudly behind her.

In a way, he was thankful she didn't. He knew he'd find hurt in her face and he could do without the reminder of how snarky he could be.

For all intents and purposes, Ava had been the sole constant in his life and he might even consider her a… friend.

He had made some progress along the way.

Touching you as he fed didn't feel suffocating. He could even bear your touch as you held on to him for support.

He would need to feed soon.

Your blood was more filling than anything he could hunt out there, but the set schedule wasn't enough.

He pushed himself to sit, face buried in his hands.

You were already giving him more than he could ever repay. Again.

But he still found in himself the unshakable desire for more.

More. More. More.

This was the nature of his bond with you.

No in-betweens. No half measures.

With you, it was all or nothing.

And his vampiric nature always found ways to creep into his mind. 

Blood.

“Astarion?”

He was rooted to the garden bench, your eyes on him.

Shaking his head, he cleared his throat. “Yes?”

Uncertainty covered your face and he immediately realised you feared he had spaced out too far for her reach.

“Oh, I apologise, dear,” he said, putting on his best mask. “I suppose I wasn't expecting this revelation.”

But even such a practised facade was no longer enough to keep you convinced.

You knew him too well.

Slowly, you came to sit by his side again. “I'm sorry, Astarion.”

That immediately gnawed at his nerves. “Whatever for?”

“I know you were fond of Ava, and it's never easy to realise that someone we might have placed our trust in once can be capable of such things.”

Your logic wasn't flawed per se, but it didn't quite cover what he was now feeling.

“You think I'm upset because I care for her?”

“You don't?”

He tensed up. “My relationship with her felt necessary. It was built out of mutual need.”

At this, your features hardened. “Like ours when we first met?”

“It could never be like ours.”

He tried his best to hide the offence he had taken from your words, but, once again, you were able to read right through him.

“Didn't you see her as a friend?”

Quite frankly… “No.”

“Then why do you seem so shaken?”

Astarion should have known better than to give in to his impulsiveness, as it rarely did him any favours.

Yet…

“Why? Why do you think?” he said through gritted teeth. “I feel ashamed! More so because it was my recklessness that could have potentially been the cause of all of this.” 

You looked alarmed, but took your time to word out an answer. “Astarion, you couldn't have known. If this is actually true, then she played you.”

He scoffed, avoiding your piercing eyes. “Ironic, isn't it? I used to be so good at reading people and…” His voice faltered momentarily. “... and now I realise how much of a fool I am.”

Your hand met his cheek and you slowly turned his head until your eyes found his again. “You're not a fool for trusting people. You didn’t trust me at first, remember? It was all about survival.”

Astarion was sure that if his heart still pulsed, it would have shattered.

“I trusted you and you trusted me.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You are far too trusting.”

You smiled warmly and his defences immediately crumbled. “And you hardly trust anyone. Still, we met halfway, didn't we? Through pain and blood and gore and with all the odds against us, we found a way.”

Astarion realised for the nth time in that moment that he adored you.

He didn't think he had it in him to break the flow of this moment and say it out loud, but he did.

Trust was never on the table with him. He had built his undeath around using and abusing the trust others placed on him, only to bring them to their demise. Therefore, he never expected the same grace to be extended to him. He was unworthy, wasn't he?

Until you came along and shifted his world on its axis, showing him that there was still good out there reserved even for those deemed monsters.

Your hand dropped from his face, but your caring smile only deepened.

“I will not think any less of you if my suspicions are confirmed.”

It would be so easy to just accept your words, but he still hesitated. “Maybe you should. I roped you and others over something driven by selfishness.”

And now you were visibly angry.

“Astarion. Stop it – please. You told me about the spawn in the Underdark, too. A selfish person wouldn't even factor them in.”

He grimaced. “Be it as it may. It didn't start out like that. I thought of only myself when I made the deal with Ava. My blood for a possible cure to my hunger.”

“Does it matter how it started? Does it, really? You're not the person you used to be. You're not driven by the same survival instinct and selfishness.”

“Because of you.” he blurted out.

Did this version of himself even exist without you? If it hadn't been for you, he would have ascended. He would have sacrificed thousands of souls and reach

A part of him still lingered on the ‘what if’ of it all. Deep down, he knew that refusing to partake in the ritual had been the right choice for him. For everyone. 

But he still wondered… what if.

“What of the ritual, then? I was so blinded by greed and power that I would have caved in if not for you.”

Weak.

Pathetic.

Broken.

You seemed slightly taken aback before offering a reassuring smile. “You're so wrong, Astarion. I merely reminded you of who you already were. You saved yourself.”

He was stunned silent for a moment.

You were being genuine and it was clear you meant every single word.

“I've told you this before, but I'm proud of you,” you said, reaching for his hand and he nearly hissed from the sudden shift in temperature. You were always so warm… even on a cool night. “I hope you are, too.”

He wasn't. He truly wasn't, but he would lie for you.

His voice would give him away, so he merely nodded, earning a tender squeeze from you.

“Maybe we ought to go and meet Wyll now.”

He hesitated as you tugged his hand, not moving an inch.

In truth, he'd rather stay here with you and savour this moment. He was excruciatingly exhausted from the emotional turmoil the past days had brought on. 

“The sooner we go, the better,” you reminded him.

Astarion looked up at the night sky until his gaze found the horizon line, hues of soft pink and orange swirling in the distance.

Dawn was about to break.

The sun couldn't be kept from rising just as he couldn't keep himself from you.

“We'll figure this out, Astarion. Together.”

You gave his hand another squeeze and shifted in his seat, fully facing you.

For a moment, he considered kissing you. He thought it would be fitting. He could allow his body to convey what words would always fail to do so.

But his body was at the mercy of his mind.

So you spoke first, “May I hug you?”

It was a simple enough request, yet he appreciated you asking beforehand.

“Of course, darling.”

You leaned into him, engulfing his body within the warmth of yours. He lowered his chin to rest on your shoulder and you mimicked him, clearly doing your best to read his body language.

He was tense at first, mostly due to the unwavering fear that his mind might play a trick on him. 

But he found himself slowly but surely easing into you, welcoming your touch. He could hear your pulse quicken alongside your neck and his stomach lurched in response. His most basic instincts being put to the test.

A wave of revulsion washed down in a frail attempt at keeping his hunger for your blood at bay.

Eventually, he was able to have it subside into the back of his mind, like an ever-watchful fiend, waiting for him to give permission.

But he had sworn off feeding on you again. At least, for the time being. As painful as it was – and borderline unnatural for a vampire – he had to resist this. 

The act itself was too tainted for now, and the wildlife around Baldur's Gate would have to suffice.

He wished he could freeze this moment in time and have everything else be background noise.

And when you finally pulled back from the embrace, he saw tears streaming down your face, causing him to stir in alert.

“What did I do?”

You shook your head, your face too close. “Nothing. You're just…”

It was time to lighten the mood and that was a skill he indulged like no other.

“Ridiculously handsome?”

You chuckled, your breath fanning his lips. “Incredibly so. But…”

He cradled your face in his hands, thumb brushing against the softness of your cheek, as he waited for you to continue.

You shivered under his touch.

Was it from the cold?

Or was it something else?

You were close. Too close. 

He could feel your every breath on his face and this ever-growing pull was now enveloping him.

Oh, how he wanted to kiss you.

Make you his and his alone.

“What is it, love?”

The word had left his lips before he could register how he was almost… panting.

Your hands came to grip his arms and he found himself leaning into you again.

“Astarion… I…”

He arched a brow, suddenly aware that something was amiss.

Something was terribly wrong.

Your eyes were glassy and your skin had grown cold, mouth agape and face void of any tangible expression.

Suddenly, you went limp in his arms but not before letting out a piercing pained shriek that tore through the night air and through him like the sharpest of knives. Your pulse was weak, but he could still feel your heart fighting through

Amongst the shock and panic, he spotted movement in the corner of his eye.

A hooded figure was standing still by the fence and he immediately knew who it was.

“Hello, Astarion.”

TBC

[chamomiletealeaf]

Sweet as Pie

Chapter 1

When Simon retires from the military, he buys a little cabin in Georgia to live the quiet life he's always wanted. It's rural, hidden, and exactly what he was looking for. However, it's not as rural as he thought it to be, when one day he finds out he has a cute lil next door neighbor who is sweet as pie.

pairing: fem!afab!southern! reader x mommykink! simon riley

a/n: Thank you to @thatonepupkai for inspiring me with this because I am now obsessed with mommy kink Simon and Southern reader.

warnings: mentions of trauma

Simon placed the last box of his belongings (which there weren't very many of) down in his new home.

He had just retired from the military, deciding to maybe try and experience some joy in his life.

Simon had never really experienced true joy. Not since his family. When he joined the Task Force he thought he could help save lives so that no one would have to live the way he did. He had nothing to live for, so why not try to save the lives of those who did have something?

But killing was hard. Something he didn't want to do. Was it really worth the risk? After Johnny nearly died by a shot to the head by Makarov, Simon felt an emotion that he hasn't felt since his family was alive.

For the first time in years, Simon Riley realized he had something to live for.

But he wasn't living, only surviving, which is why he decided to start a new chapter in his life and try and bring out that feeling he had gone so long without that he only got a taste of after Johnny was shot.

Which is where his rural cabin in Georgia comes in.

It was a beautiful wooden cabin; surrounded by nature and hidden by trees. It was alone, just the way he was. It was only one story and on a beautiful black lake that sparkled with the reflections of the sunny sky and warped images of the branches of the trees lingering over it. Maybe he would buy himself a kayak one day and go out on the lake. He was still learning how to take care of himself.

He didn't see any houses for a while. The closest house he saw being quite far down the lake, but close enough that he wasn't too secluded.

Simon wanted to start slow, inch his way back into civilization, and this cabin was the perfect start.

He placed the last box of his belongings down on the wooden floor in the living room. He sighed and placed his hands on his hips, then looked around as if he was trying to find something to do.

It felt awkward not having to watch his back 24/7.

He sat down on the little couch that came with the house, and opened up the box, deciding to occupy himself with putting away his things.

The first thing he took out the box was his only coffee mug that had the Task Force logo on it that Price had given to him so he wouldn't have to steal his mug to make his tea.

Tea, that sounded good.

Simon took the mug into the kitchen and put a kettle onto the stove.

As he waited for the water to heat up, he leaned back against the counter, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked outside his window in the kitchen, admiring the view of the lake.

Then something caught his eye.

From the window in the kitchen, Simon could see to the right of the cabin, which was most of the lake, and a lot of the wooded area beside it. He could see more from that window than the window in the living room, which showed the left part of his house, and that distant house that looked to be his only neighbor.

But in the distance, to the right, not too far from his cabin and definitely much closer than the other house, he saw a cute little pastel yellow house, also wooden, with a big white door.

"What the f-" Simon whispered under his breath, squinting his eyes to see if that was really another house he was seeing or maybe just a storage shed.

That's when he saw you.

Simon could see the door of your house that appeared to be the kitchen door. It was a single door with a little stoop to allow people to walk up and down it.

He watched as you opened the door, bringing a basket along with you, and walked over to the peach trees you had in your backyard.

You were beautiful. So much so that Simon unsquinted his eyes and his anger towards the realtor who sold him the house who failed to inform him of a closer-by neighbor faded.

He watched as you picked the peaches off the trees and pulled a white cardigan around your figure that slipped open every time you reached up to the branches of the tree.

Then, when the basket was full, he watched you disappear back into the coziness of your little yellow house, that was almost as cute as you were.

Simon stared at your kitchen door for a bit, awestruck by the woman he just saw.

Then the screeching whistle of the kettle is what snapped him out of his trance.

He rushed to turn the stove off and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair. Then with a sigh, he leaned against the counter on his palms, repressing a small grin creeping onto his face and thought:

Maybe having a neighbor wouldn't be so bad.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 1)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Prologue, Part 2

summary: After the breakup, you move into a new place.

warnings: no warnings! cheeky bit of angst at the end

a/n: this is me admitting that realistically, miguel would be sick of our shit.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here <3

wc: 4.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

or in the cold, crisp morn:

"These are the keys," Your new landlord hands you the copies, clinking against each other as you transfer them to a dish by the door. Your first thought is that there seem to be too many for this modest apartment: of varying shapes and sizes, and at least half a dozen. He steps through a wide archway to the kitchen, eerily clean. It's not modern by any means,  the top half of a hulking brownstone some time away from college.

It’s been… a trying summer. Moving halfway across the country with your boyfriend had seemed like a great idea at the time. Younger you (barely 2 years ago) had been enamoured with the promises of city life: fast-paced, bustling, and never a dull day. Naivete and big ideas that you'd been too stupid, or maybe too desperate, to let go of. After being locked in a loop of the same 3 or 4 places, the same dozen faces - in a place as big as this, mind you - maybe your ex-boyfriend had freed you. Forced you from that halfway-home; as cold and empty as it had become; and back out into the world. 

The reality was less than ideal - apartment hopping across the city for the past 4 months or so. You’d seen it all: glorified shoeboxes, fancy duplexes, viewing sublet rooms that were at least a little illegal. A box within a box within a box; coat closets rented out for double your monthly take home; and you had just about given up.

So this place seemed like a godsend: a brownstone, tucked away. Its interior is dated, but gorgeous. It had character: quirks and rich history in the brick and mortar. A fireplace tucked into the corner, window alcoves, wood panelling. Yes, the wallpaper was slightly warped with damp  but it’s affordable - a reasonably priced gem that had made you jump when you saw the ad. With the overexposed and pixelated images, they didn’t do it justice.

You pad into the kitchen, running your hands on the smooth countertops. They’re bare and spotless - suspiciously so. Not many personal items, no fridge magnets, photos; nary a blanket on the sofa or half eaten plate of toast on the worktop. It’s so clean it feels staged, and it makes you squint. Isn’t there meant to be…

“I let Miguel know… he must’ve cleaned up the place-”

“Miguel?”

“The other tenant.” He pauses, boots clicking on the grain of the floorboard. “I don’t think he’ll be back until later tonight. Should give you some time to settle in.” 

Nodding, you give him a small smile, and he steps out of the apartment. Your apartment.

~~~

You fill the rest of day with unpacking, putting some life into the place. You’d visited not long ago, fantasising about how you’d decorate. Something about sharing an apartment with your boyfriend for the past 2 years had done something to you: flattening and squeezing into a space not built with you in mind. How Jamie didn't like things on the walls, or how he needed the space for his textbooks, so why don't you find somewhere else to put your little stories? If his desk took up half the front room, then that makes sense, he needs it for work. But God forbid you needed a quiet space to study; what if the guest bedroom has your shit everywhere when his friends come over? A million compromises that didn't seem much like compromises: you'd give an inch and he'd take a mile. And so, the space to spread your wings without knocking over a gaudy plaque or two was very much appreciated. 

You want to walk around the neighbourhood, map out the convenience stores, bodegas, community hotspots and hubs. Where's the best place to get a drink? The cheapest meal? Your usual haunts were a fair distance away, so maybe you'll make the trek and pick up waffles from Pam's, as a treat. Tired already, you slump on the sofa - a tattered old thing that can clearly take a beating. Looking around the place, something settles solidly at your chest. Contentment, maybe, a strange feeling considering the past few months. This will do, you think. This will do. 

Perhaps it's not a very feminist thought, but you're not thriving . Thriving felt presumptuous, and yet coping seemed too complete a word - its implication too tidy, too neat. A mess, before; better, now…? And it didn't quite span the width and depth of the past few months; how long it had taken for the numbness to make way to anger, hot and intense - its flame fueling many a long night. And yet, maybe coping was just the way to describe your foray into this new chapter: a new year, new apartment, and whatever that brings. You had forgotten what it felt like to be alone; not lonely, but with only your own self for company. Without the ache of another person, for the first time in a while. 

…except, you had a roommate. Which you had known when signing the lease, of course, but it's taken some time to sink in. What that means for you - a new person to tiptoe around and appease - you're not too sure yet. What is he like? He's out late, so maybe a chronic partygoer - sloppy drunk and vivacious, the life of the party. He might clatter into the apartment, chattering and bubbly. What do you know about him? From the apartment, as is, it doesn't tell you much. At first glance, it had looked too clean, but not unreasonably so if he had anticipated your arrival. No, it was the lack of personal effects that confused you. How long has he been living here and there aren't any pictures or knick knacks? To clutter is to be human, you think. And with the front room as blank as it is, you wonder just what kind of man he is. 

It's getting late. Naturally, you do some snooping, lazily padding around in search of life. Onwards and upwards, to new frontiers: the cupboards and drawers in your new apartment. 

He likes coffee, you learn. There's a fancy machine on the kitchen counter, glossy and shiny and clearly taken care of. Little packets of beans and filters line the cupboards, all with names you can't quite pronounce. The fridge is similarly well-stocked, with none of the junk food you've gotten accustomed to in the past few months. Its innards are leafy green and plush; labelled tupperware with leftovers notwithstanding. All the spices in a tray above the oven and fancy knives on the wall tell you he likes to cook, or rather, he likes to eat well. The lack of junk would take some getting used to - maybe he's a health nut? The type to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, to blend oddly coloured smoothies, and "reflect" after a long day of… dog walking or something. 

You move on to the living room, running a light hand over the deep walnut of a side table behind the sofa. Again, it's oddly bare. When you tug at the drawers, it's brassy handles are solid. Locked. Kneeling, you run a hand across the larger cupboard door at its base. You pull at it, and it pops open with a click. Inside, it seems empty, save for a dusty box nestled in the back corner. With your top half almost completely inside its depths, you move it into the light. 

It's old, a battered shoebox adorned with coloured sharpie - shaky drawings of flowers blossoming from its sides. The cardboard crackles when you open it. It's full of junk, mostly: half-dead pens, broken crayons, dried flowers, and little plastic toys - the kind you get from cereal boxes and happy meals. And, there's something peeking out. Confused, you dig a little deeper, to uncover a pair of… soccer cleats? They're tiny, clearly for a kid but seem barely worn, with minimal scuffing on the plastic blades. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" A voice from above rumbles, and your head snaps up like a rubber band. You hadn't noticed the door open, and you are met face to face with, who you assume to be, your roommate. 

He doesn't shout: tall, broad, and back straight by the door. He's got a backpack slung over his shoulder, dressed in a crisp white shirt and slacks. His name was… Miguel? Miguel crosses his arms, brows furrowed in quiet rage. Fuck. 

"I was just looking for.. uhh…" 

You know how it looks. It's the worst time for your brain to go blank, and you're left holding the hypothetical bag. You stand up a little too quickly, and smack your knee on the lip of the table. Half of the box spills onto the floor and you dart downwards, embarrassed. 

" Shit. Sorry, let me-" 

He leaps towards the floor, and you're forced behind him, as he scrambles to put everything in its place. You start to help and he stops, stock-still. As if in slow motion, his head turns to the side and he gives you a look that could kill thousands. Retreating, you shrink back, only able to watch helplessly. 

" Chica tonta... ¿se crió en un rancho? ¿qué clase de persona entra en casa de alguien y toca todas sus cosas?" He's muttering something under his breath - too fast and not saying anything you can understand. Pausing, he throws you a look. "...y luego me ve como si yo fuera el que está mal- ojos grandes y bonitos como de perrito pateado...oh dios mío.-" 

[silly little girl… was she raised in a barn? what kind of person walks into someone's house and touches all of their stuff? // and she looks at me like I'm the one in the wrong - big, pretty eyes like a kicked puppy… oh my god-] 

He's gentle with the box, the way he puts it in its place contrasting his mood a couple of seconds before. He closes up the door and you stumble to your feet. In the glow of halogen bulbs, he follows, arms crossed like a mother hen. 

"I think… I think I'm your new roommate?" You say your name and  stretch out a hand, but Miguel doesn't move. You watch as his eyes sweep over your body, shameless. 

"Are you asking, or telling me?" He sighs, pinching at his temples. 

"...Telling?" You offer him a weak smile, and he cracks.

Softening, ever so slightly, he grumbles. "I know. I know. Mr Estévez said you would be in tomorrow, though."

"I like to be early." 

"Right. Well… don't do that. Again, I mean." He clears his throat. "Don't touch my shit either. It's too… fuck , it's too late for this. I'm going to bed."

He kicks off his shoes, and all you can do is watch as he saunters off; the door to his room shutting with a resounding slam .

~~~

His name is Miguel O'Hara - not that he told you that, or anything. He hasn't spoken to you much at all, leaving you to figure out who he is and what he does from vague clues around the apartment. You don't go snooping , learning quickly from previous mistakes; but his full name on a letter slotted through the mail was fair game, you think. The most you've gotten out of him were grunts and frustrated requests to keep to your shelf in the fridge. 

Passive-aggressive wasn't in his vocabulary, you’re convinced. A plethora of dirty looks in his arsenal? Sure. Plenty of vulgar swears in Spanish? Absolutely. Miguel was not, however, passive-aggressive. Just… aggressive. Not angry, of course. Upfront. Abhorred any passivity and indolence: umm-ing and ahh-ing for the sake of it. 

So naturally , you were sent to kill him. 

You tiptoe around the apartment, avoiding him at all costs. At first, it wasn’t on purpose, just the awkwardness of your first meeting bleeding into the next week. But you dodge and weave like an expert boxer -  particularly impressive in the small space. Miguel’s in the kitchen? Suddenly, you’re not very hungry. He’s curled up on the couch for a movie? Wow, look at the time: and you're heading to bed. You can’t read him very well, and don’t trust yourself enough to look him in the eye without fear of melting under his gaze. The few short interactions you have, you crumble; a brush against his shoulder in the kitchen, or legs against his on the dining table. Not that Miguel offers a peace branch, pursing his lips when you’d make eye contact, somewhat frustrated at your theatrics. Call it cliche: you’re avoiding confrontation at all costs. It manifests itself in peculiar ways: the Shower Incident being the most memorable. 

The Shower Incident, aptly named, happened not too long ago. The apartment is old , as you soon learnt, coming with its own plethora of quirks. What you had first taken as character and charm - window seats and wood panelling - also came in the form of a building half falling apart. Creaky floorboards, leaky pipes, and a distinct lack of central heating. The discounted price, that had seemed like a bargain before, clearly lacked some creature comforts… like heating. And a working shower. 

As you’d been in a rush, you clattered into the bathroom; stripping in no time at all. Bare feet on the tile, and you turn the knobs at the base of the shower unit. You’re not going to pretend you know how it works, just yet, but… it’s not rocket science, is it? The brassy spout sputters; but with no luck. Groaning from the pipes makes you jump, before huffing in frustration. This is not the time; late to yet another 9.00am? You want to be different this year: organised, put together, and on time to your lectures. On your tiptoes, you peer down the shower head hesitantly, like it’s the barrel of a loaded gun. With cruel irony, it sputters to life, sending a face-full of ice-cold water your way.There’s a scream, as you scramble at the handles, scurrying out of its brunt; desperately trying to turn it off. 

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel leaps out of his room towards the shouting, with a fumble and clunk of his feet on wooden floor. He’s quick , hand hovering on the bathroom door before you can register it; his voice echoing outside. 

“Are you…” There’s scuffling, which you can just about hear over the pounding of the water against tiles. “Are you okay, in there?”

You wince, stepping out of the shower – legs shaky like a baby deer – as you gurgle. “...Yeah?”

“Can I –” He clears his throat. “Are you.. clothed ? Can I come in?”

You scramble for something to cover yourself, settling for a plush towel on the rack. Wrapping yourself up, you brace yourself for the grimace that's sure to be on his face. Tentatively, you crack the door open. There Miguel is, face knitted with worry. 

There's a flash of confusion at the scene, and then, what you think is relief. Relief you haven't cracked your head open, most likely: the blood would be hard to clean from the grout. You feel guilty, as you've probably broken it, or touched something you shouldn't. The shower is still on; sputtering, starting, and it becomes a strange sort of background music to your silent exchange. 

"I don't know how to use the shower." You say with a small voice, guiltily. 

" No me digas…" No shit, he mutters, face back to the furrowed brow you're starting to become more familiar with. He sighs, easing up. "You hurt?" 

You shake your head, and swear you see a small smile on his face. You looked like a waterboarded rat, probably: big watery eyes and shaking with the sudden cold. 

A mess , he thinks. But not a bad view. 

He's still in workout clothes from his morning run, compression shirt and lazy shorts that hug his ass on; as he turns towards the shower. With some sense of shame, you try not to stare, to not watch the muscles of his back and arms flex as he angles the shower head away from his face. It's not enough that you've embarrassed yourself – twice, in the space of a couple of days – but the fact it was in front of your roommate, who is maybe the most beautiful person you've seen up close. Which, granted, narrows the field; but Miguel is gorgeous, a flash of pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates, wide palms toggling the dial. 

"You need to be careful… push it in slightly when you turn the-" You crane your head towards his movements. "Come closer, or you won't see what I'm doing."

You move towards him, half naked and shivering, trying not to buckle with the heat of his body next to yours. This is what you get for not having spoken to a man since your ex: a tight coil at the base of your stomach for someone that you've done nothing but unwittingly terrorise for the past week.  

He explains, patient and even-tempered; how to use the shower and you half-zone out to the low tone of his voice. There's no malice, or pomp in his words when there are a million things he could make fun of you for - that Jamie may have made fun of you for. You look up, at the sharp lines of his face, and chew at your lip, deep in thought. 

"...and this side is for hot water. Next time, just ask me – instead of almost drowning."

You nod, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"...For what?" He says, softly. "Place is falling apart, anyway. It's not really your fault." You're convinced everything you touch in this house breaks, but with the way he looks at you, you believe him. 

"Just ask me, next time." He echoes and makes for the door, stopping to drag his eyes up and down your frame. Oh… oh. You like that, the way he looks at you shamelessly, practically undressing you. 

He smiles, amused at your deer-in-headlights expression. 

"...I think that's mine."

He nods to the towel wrapped around your body and your eyes bulge out of their sockets. " Fuck , I didn't realise-" 

He shrugs, noncommittal. 

"...Seems like you need it more than me, anyways."

~~~

It's a rough first couple of days, and then a week, and then two. The rhythm is all off: like the jerky stop and start of an old car. He wakes up early to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, and you stay up late to finish papers and assignments. He has a job, you think, darting out at the same time once or twice a week in smart clothing and a backpack. Sometimes, you catch him hunched over a laptop or scribbling something in a beat up old notebook. Maybe, he’s a student - even if he doesn’t seem quite like the fresh-faced 19 year olds you see around campus. Although, you suppose it’s not implausible; you were one of the older people in your classes, after all. It’s hard to imagine O’Hara, stony-faced and serious, at a… dorm party, or something. To be that carefree, he’d need to get rid of that stick up his ass, first.

You’ve got a day off from lectures, using the time to catch up on the reading you should’ve done over a hectic break. The list seems to go on and on, already, this early into the year. Internally, you’ve made a promise to be on top of it all - the little hiccup with Jamie, notwithstanding. You’d knuckle down this morning, reading ( scanning) and summarising ( liberal use of the copy-paste function) in preparation for the rest of the semester. Miguel’s locked up in his room, somewhere, so you use the opportunity to spread out onto the dining table.

There’s a knock at the door that makes you look up from the muddle of words on your screen.

When you open the door, there’s a woman there with a notebook in hand. She’s pretty, in a classic sort of way, ginger braids cropped to her shoulders and lips slathered with gloss. Her outfit is relaxed, but carefully curated: a tight jumper and long brown legs stretching out from a black skirt. 

“Hi.” She says, visibly keening. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting you, but she quickly recovers and gives you a blinding smile. 

“...Hi,” Honestly, you’re a little confused. You haven’t seen her around the complex before; so who she was, you hadn’t a clue. Too pretty to be a door-to-door salesman, and too hot to try to convert you to Mormonism, you think. Whatever that means.

You wait expectantly, as a beat passes. 

“Oh!” She laughs, and it sounds like puppies and rainbows, much too bright and airy considering the time of day. It makes her next words even more of a shock. “I’m looking for Miguel.”

With her last words, she steps a little closer; scanning the apartment from her vantage point. Something in you bubbles up, but you try to choke down the laughter. 

“You’re looking for...Miguel?” Even out of your own mouth, it sounds absurd . The man had no friends, as far as you could tell. He seemed like the type to lock himself away in his enclosure, only stepping out for work, school, the bare minimum. In the short week that’s passed, his ‘enrichment time’ had consisted of a dry documentary on spider mating cycles - which had been a shock to walk into, the first time. 

So someone here, at the apartment? Looking for him? Fidgeting, you scratch at your neck. “Uhh, I ca-”

“Sorry about that, Jia. You can have a seat.” His voice comes from behind you, and Jia breezes into the apartment, perching on the sofa. Legs crossed, she reaches into her bag, taking out a laptop and a pen and paper. He’s changed out of his workout clothes, donned in a loose white sweater and casual trousers - relaxed, for once. With a limp thud, you close the door. There’s an odd feeling as you look around at the scene: tension, and you feel like you’re interrupting. Miguel clatters around in the kitchen, fumbling for mugs and coffee filters and God knows what else.

“...was it two sugars, or three?”

“Three!” She throws over her shoulder, tapping away at her open laptop. “I like it sweet, Miguel.”

You squint. He laughs : a small chuckle that comes with a heat at the base of your stomach. Your head almost aches, trying to recalibrate; reconcile with the version of the person you’ve barely seen around the apartment to now - present, engaged, and personable. Exasperated is the only word for it. Miguel O’Hara was, in fact, capable of joy. Dickhead.

He barely acknowledges you, but Jia does; batting her wispy eyelashes in your direction, curious. The tapping stops, and she curls the corner of her mouth up with a hint of a smile. 

“You gonna introduce me?” She calls out to Miguel, and then smiles to you; warm and genuine. It makes you feel a little more at ease. You catch the end of a sigh coming from the kitchen.

“Jia, this is my roommate.” He glances up to gesture towards you. “...this is Jia. I… help her out with work, sometimes.”

From the couch, she rolls her eyes. “He’s too modest. He’s my tutor, technically.”

With that, your eyebrows shoot up. Of everything you’d imagined him doing, tutoring students wasn’t one of them - especially considering he seemed barely out of college himself.

“...Technically?” 

“He doesn’t like to advertise it, because he’s picky with his clientele.” She giggles and he scoffs. You get the feeling there’s a joke flying over your head, just out of reach. “Word gets out on campus that Miguel’s tutoring again…”

“ Vale, vale ,” He grumbles, but his tone is good-natured and light. “S’enough, Jia.”

She gives you a wink, before turning towards her work.

You walk towards your things, still on the dining table. He’s got his head buried in a kitchen cabinet and you look on, wanting to ask a lot of things. The words seem to die in your throat: too big, too small, not the right shape. She's a stranger; that knows where the coffee’s kept and the best spot on the couch. That makes Miguel laugh . You want to ask him about the stranger in your home; but you’re too scared he’d turn and point the finger at you.

He walks to the couch, balancing two cups of coffee. You look back. Next to him, her presence is an oddity - a blip in his carefully crafted universe. With the warm sheen of familiarity, she nudges his shoulder. Taking careful sips, he pointedly ignores her, tapping a finger at her screen - as if to say, pay attention. She smiles, wide; an asteroid across the depths of space, dazzling and brilliant in the night sky. 

The exchange… it makes you think. If Miguel is the Sun, and Jia, a bright body in orbit: what’s your place in this four-walled cosmos? Where do you belong? 

_

_

_

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[just-jordie-things]

born to die - itadori yuji

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 8.7k warnings: canon-typical angst and talks of death summary: itadori's fate has been sealed, and he can't bear dragging anyone down with him. especially not her. more info: friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angsty confession rain scene, you're gonna eat it up

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ feet don’t fail me now, take me to the finish line // oh my heart it breaks every step that i take, but i’m hoping that the gates they’ll tell me that you’re mine ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Itadori Yuji hasn’t always lived his life on borrowed time.  It used to be normal- as some called it.  He used to be just a boy, with an intrigue in the occult and semi-above average grades.  Back when things were normal he’d never thought much about girls or dating, not seriously anyways.  In the back of his mind he always figured the right person would come along at the right time, and he’d settle down when things worked out that way.

He didn’t know that the right time would cease to exist the moment he swallowed that finger.

At the sound of lightning cracking, Yuji flinches slightly, not having realized just how bad this storm had gotten since he’d stepped out of the dormitories to appreciate the rain.  He must’ve been out here for longer than he thought, but he hadn’t exactly been trying to keep track of time.  One thing led to another and he’d gotten lost in his thoughts, and…

“Megumi, what the hell is happening?”

Her shock was evident not only in the way she’d called out to her classmate and friend, but also in the speed at which she’d brought herself from one end of the corridor to the other.  It was almost as if she’d teleported there.  

At the time, Yuji thought maybe that was her special power.  If the grumpy dude had shadow animals, it wasn’t too outlandish to believe she could warp from one spot to another, right?

He’ll never forget the way she’d looked at him then.  For the first time.

Confusion and panic washed away for the briefest of moments, instead gazing upon him with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.  Yuji had confused it at first for recognition, thinking maybe they’d met before and he’d forgotten, but that wasn’t the case.

“Who is that?” 

“This is Itadori,” Fushiguro huffed, more annoyed by the introduction than anything.  “He’s the one with the finger” 

It wasn’t exactly the introduction Yuji would have wanted, but there was no changing that now.  Besides, as long as he was able to say that he met her, that he knew her, he’d consider that more than a blessing.  

(He always sort of had that soft way of speaking about her whenever she came up, whenever he brought her up.  His eyes would glaze over with that dreamy look and before he knew it his heart was getting fluttery and his face was getting warm)

A lot of that fateful night was a blur, especially the parts where his body no longer belonged to him, but when it came to her, it was like the images were crystal clear.  If there was a way for him to enter a memory and relive it- that’s how he’d describe the sensation.

“Is he still passed out?” A voice- Yuji couldn’t be sure if it was Fushiguro or his supposed mentor who’d shown up- asked, but it was fuzzy and distant.

“Seems so,” A gentler one replied.  This one was undoubtedly hers.  “Probably for the best that he rests” She added before he felt the faint touch of fingertips pushing the hair off his forehead.

“What do we do with him now?” It was obvious it was Fushiguro asking, and it was obvious that he was asking his mentor, but it wasn’t the older man who replied.

“We take him back with us,” She piped up, her voice holding a firmness that suggested she’d argue harder if she had to.  “Right?” 

The pause before an answer came was long, Yuji wasn’t sure if he had faded in and out of consciousness, or if the silence really did drag on for minutes.

He’d never told her that he’d heard that small bit of conversation, that he remembered the way her careful fingers had touched him with more compassion than he’d felt in a long time.  Yuji couldn’t decide if it was because he was a coward or if he simply wanted to keep hold of that precious memory all to himself.

Another roll of thunder rumbled through the sky.  Yuji lifted his head to try and make out the dark clouds among the night sky.  Without a flash of lightning it was difficult to make out, but he did always enjoy watching a good storm, even if the darkness made it difficult.

He’d surely been out here for a couple of hours at this point.  It was nearing midnight when he’d crept out of the dormitories to watch the rain, hoping for a peaceful moment.  It was peaceful, the storm, at least.  His mind had gotten foggy after spending too much time within it and he was starting to go down that path he hated.

What if I’d done things differently? Do I really deserve to still be here? How long until we find the last finger and the higher ups have me executed? 

It wasn’t your average person’s derailed anxiety.  In fact, all of the anxieties Yuji had ever faced before being introduced to jujutsu had faded away.  He’d have to think for a few minutes to recall the things that used to be on the forefront of his mind on sleepless nights.

He was certain none of them involved being executed, though.

It was only a matter of time, and he’d known that for a while.  He was quite sure he’d come to peace with it, too.  Or at least he almost had.  He was just wrapping his head around the idea of dying, but as long as he’d helped people before that time came, he could accept it.  He could die at peace knowing he’d done everything he could to fulfill his grandfather’s dying wish.

And then she came along and everything turned upside down- again, and not for the last time.

The relief between the group of four upon finding everyone alive and as well as they could be- not unscathed, but nothing that couldn’t be bandaged up- was quickly replaced by utter shock as they watched Sukuna’s mouth appear on the palm of Yuji’s hand.  There was no time to react before it was gobbling up the finger Megumi had obtained after a hard fought battle.

It’s suddenly so silent you could hear a pin drop from anywhere in these woods, everyone’s eyes focused on the skin that reappeared over the boy’s palm, each hoping their eyes had played tricks on them as the reality of the situation settles in.

Yuji wants to say something, in fact, he almost cracks a joke.  But the words are stuck in his throat and all he can do is flex his fingers into a fist a few times as he processes what just happened.

Another finger consumed is another finger closer to death.

“We won’t tell anyone about this,” She speaks first, gaze lingering on his hand for a moment longer before lifting to Yuji’s concerned expression.  She hesitates again, then turns to Megumi and Nobara.  “No one.  We keep this to ourselves” 

“Not even-?” 

“Not even Gojo-sensei” She cuts Megumi off before he could finish the question.

Nobara gave a solid nod in agreement right away.  She always trusted her say in anything, and would blindly follow her anywhere.  Megumi took a minute longer to catch up, but eventually agreed as well.  The idea of keeping such a massive secret hidden from Gojo unsettled him, but when he weighed out the other options, he didn’t like the idea of Yuji being any closer to death than he was before.

“Let’s get moving” Was all he said, but it was enough for his peers to know he was on board.  Nobara followed after him as he took off towards the direction they’d come hours ago.  Yuji hung back a few steps, not sure how to feel about everyone covering for him.

“(y/n),” 

He called her name softly, as he always did, but it was loud enough for her to perk up.  She sends him a small smile as she slows her own steps to walk beside him at his slower pace.

“I don’t want anyone getting in trouble for covering for-” 

“No one’s getting in trouble,” She assured him mid-sentence.  “And no one’s doing anything they don’t want to do.  It’s fine” 

She was always so sure of herself that it was endearing.  She was a natural leader, even when Megumi tried to form a plan, she had a way of rallying the small group up before any assignment.  Just last week Gojo made them stay behind after lessons to clean the classroom, and she’d found a way to make it into a competition that had them finished in under thirty minutes.  Yuji admired that about her.  Her spirit could be over exaggerated, but it was never phony.

Yuji was at a loss for words, leaving him stuck gaping at her like a fish, which was at least effective in making her laugh.

“You care so much for others- I really admire that about you, Yuji,” She spoke as if she could read his mind.  It had his chest buzzing in that familiar way she sparked.  She looked at him and it was like her eyes were made of the stars themselves.  “But you underestimate how much… others care for you too” 

He’ll never forget the way her cheeks had gone pink after the soft admission.

If the circumstances had been different, he’s sure he would have confessed to her right then and there.  If things were different he wouldn’t have been able to hold it back.  If it weren’t for his reality, he would have loved nothing more than to take her in his arms and tell her- well, everything, really.

It wasn’t like he was doing that great of a job keeping his heart in check.  His friends had noticed the way his demeanor changed as soon as she walked into the room.  Megumi may have wanted to ignore the subject just because that was his nature, but Nobara was happy to blurt it out one night when it was just the three of them.

“So when are you gonna address the whole (y/n) thing?” She’d barely looked up from where she was sitting on Megumi’s floor painting her nails.  Yuji had to do a double take just to make sure she was talking to him.

“... (y/n) thing?”

He’d acted like he didn’t have a clue what she was referencing, but truthfully, his heart was already racing.  He hadn’t been that obvious about it, had he?

“C’mon Nobara, he doesn’t want to talk about that yet, leave him be” Megumi had come to his defense, but only sort of, because now Yuji realized that they both knew about his hidden feelings.

Did he not hide them that well? 

“It’s been months!” Nobara barks back, ever so focused on the perfect coat of cherry red.  “He’s gotta be bursting to tell someone! Might as well be us” 

“This is why people don’t come to you with stuff” Megumi huffs.

“You got something you want to say then?” Nobara argues.

“No, I’m just saying-” 

“Then could you shush so Yuji could actually open up about his undying love?”

“Uh… heh…?” Yuji mumbled his confusion to himself, but it was enough to interrupt their bickering.  He glanced between the two with a lost look on his face, waiting for someone to better explain it to him.

“Yuji, if you need some advice on how to ask out (y/n), we’re here for you” Nobara says with complete seriousness.  He knows because she paused in her nail painting to stare him down while she said it.

He swallowed the lump in his throat- which he hadn’t been aware of until that very moment- and wildly looked between both of his friends.

Megumi, although slightly disinterested, seemed just as invested as Nobara in this offer.  Maybe he was just bored of reading, because he didn’t often follow along with Nobara’s antics unless there was something in it for him, but it was clear in his raised brows that he was waiting for Yuji to say something.

And that’s when the pinkette remembers-

“No way man!” He shouts defensively, standing suddenly from his spot on the floor.  “You’re like her best friend! You’re just gonna tell her everything I say!” 

Unceremoniously, Megumi points to himself like the statement confused him.

Nobara huffs and rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, you!” 

Yuji had his moments of airheadedness, but he wasn’t a complete idiot.  (y/n) and Megumi had known each other for a long time.  They’d trained together as sorcerers in their younger years and it wasn’t until recently that they even had other classmates.  Megumi wouldn’t openly call any of his classmates his friends- at least not until Yuji begged him to admit it- but it had been clear that the bond he’d formed with (y/n) before Yuji and Nobara’s arrival had been built on an unshakable foundation of trust and respect.

To Yuji, that made the pair best friends.  And best friends shared everything with each other.  Including secrets shared in confidence from other friends.

“So you admit there’s something to be told?” Nobara asks, raising a brow in curiosity.

“I didn’t say that!” 

“You sort of implied it” Megumi said.

“Well then I un-imply it!” 

“Not how that works” Nobara pipes back in.

Yuji groans, covering his burning face with his hands in the hopes that it helps to hide the giveaway that was his blushing face.  It was too late, of course his friends were perceptive enough to have already caught it.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t saying that I-” His stammering only seems to prove the claims made against him, but still, Yuji tries to find the words to explain himself.  Probably because there was no way to explain himself.  His feelings were made clear in his actions already.

“So you won’t mind if I set her up with the guy at the pastry shop we go to then?” Nobara asks, and before she’s completely finished talking, Yuji drops his hands, and his eyes are wide with panic.

“Guy? Pastries? Why? Does- does she talk to him a lot?” 

Nobara glances at Megumi, who’s finally cracked a smile as he scoffs and shakes his head.  He’s trying not to break out into laughter, but sometimes those two just made it too hard.

He wasn’t the kind of guy that shared other people’s secrets.  If Yuji needed (y/n) to know something, he’d tell her.  Tonight was the first night that he’d ever contemplated crossing that boundary.  Just so he could see the way she’d light up at the insinuation that the boy she loved could love her back.

It didn’t seem like the storm would let up anytime soon.  The rain was hitting the ground harder than ever.  If he were to step out from under the awning, he’d be soaked to the bone in just seconds.  Standing in the rain actually sounded sort of nice.  It might have been a relief, even for just a minute.  Or maybe a decent enough distraction from where his mind had wandered off to.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like to think about her.  Hell, so much of his time had been thinking about her that he was starting to go absolutely crazy.  Even if he knew how to stop, he probably wouldn’t have.  He definitely wouldn’t have.

The pipeline from having a crush to being full on crazy about someone was faster than he would have expected.  Yuji didn’t have an exact timeline, but he knew that it wasn’t long after meeting her that he was lost in his adoration for her.  Soft, warm, all consuming adoration.

“These are really good!” Her eyes were lit up and her mouth was full of food as she praised Yuji for the meal.  She was already reaching for another meatball before she’d swallowed the first one.  “Your grandpa gave you this recipe?” 

Megumi and Nobara, who were also knelt around the table, had given Yuji their compliments as well.  But the brightness on his face now outshined his reaction to their five star reviews.  With the wide grin splitting his face and wider eyes following her greedy movements to snatch another meatball.  Nothing zapped his heart with pure electricity like the way she did just by enjoying his food.

He’s nodding his head in a small, slow motion to her question.

“That’s amazing, I wish I knew how to make anything.  Especially something this good,” Her approval was laying itself on thick, but he knew that it was completely genuine.  “I’m honestly jealous, Yuji” 

He laughs, his face pink from the bashfulness.

“I’m glad you like them,” He says, keeping his gaze focused on the one meatball on his plate that he hadn’t even touched yet.  

He couldn’t bear to look over at Nobara, who was snickering through her full mouth.  Or Megumi, who was staring so blatantly between him and (y/n) that Yuji thought he might burn up completely if he met his eyes.

So he keeps his head down, for the love of all things good and sane, he kept his head down.

“Well… I’ll make if for you anytime you want” 

It takes a lot of courage for him to peek over at her from his peripheral, but it’s completely worth the trembling in his fingers.  She’s beaming at him, cheeks full, eyes bright, completely overcome by his generosity and sweetness.

Nobara had to lift her napkin to her face to keep herself from spitting out her food.  Megumi finally shifts his gaze to his food, hoping he’ll at least be able to keep it down with all the lovesick nonsense at the table.

Yuji would have to use both hands to count the amount of times he made those meatballs for her.  Both out of request, and by his own choice.  She definitely was treated to them the most, despite Nobara and Megumi also enjoying the recipe.

But Nobara and Megumi didn’t get them at two in the morning when they couldn’t sleep and wanted a snack.  Nobara and Megumi didn’t get them when they were sick in bed with the flu for a week.

And the two would tease him for it relentlessly.  Not only because the treatment was unfair- they wanted delicious meatballs too! But of course when they caught Yuji up at odd hours to make her favorite meal, they just couldn’t resist calling him out on it.

Yuji would fluster, but it would never matter once he finished his masterpiece and presented them to (y/n).  It was like the entire world would melt away when he was greeted with her pure delight for his food.  He wished he could learn to make something else to give her, but it had taken so long for him to learn this recipe from his grandpa, he worried he’d only mess up a new dish.

His throat starts to feel hot.  Was that tears?  It constricts until he can’t breathe without it burning, and even when he tries to swallow to relieve the throbbing sensation, it remains.  Was he going to cry over meatballs? 

(It wasn’t the meatballs) 

“I have a surprise for you students!” Gojo’s cheery voice wasn’t out of the ordinary, and neither was the little dance of excitement he did as he wheeled up a large box to present to the first and second years.

While no one held any interest, they all remained there, waiting for their eccentric mentor to get the display over with.  No one knew what to expect, but they figured it couldn’t have been important.

But then he steps aside and does a grand introduction, and even though he states Yuji’s name, it’s not until the boy is popping out like a jack-in-the-box that it really settles in for anyone that Itadori Yuji was there.  Alive.

No one moves.  No one even says anything.  Yuji’s grinning and holding his hands up in peace signs as he’s returned to his friends, but even his cheerfulness couldn’t penetrate the unsettled trance the first and second years seemed to be in.

“Uh- Gojo- sensei…?” Yuji glanced towards his teacher for some help, not having expected anything other than a warm welcome.  However, Gojo was also wincing as he took in his students’ faces.

The second years looked aghast.  With Maki’s entire face in a disgusted cringe, as if Yuji was brought back as a zombie.  All three of them seemed more shocked than relieved.

The first years also didn’t appear like they were struck with relief either.  Megumi and Nobara had gone so pale they looked like they could faint at any moment.  With Megumi’s eye twitching and Nobara’s nose wrinkling, they were certainly processing it slowly.

Then there was (y/n).

To this day Yuji couldn’t describe the way she looked at him.  He was certain she didn’t blink once.  Tucked behind Megumi as if his tall stature could protect her from the boy raised from the dead, she looks more small and fragile than he’s ever seen her before.  Her jaw wasn’t dropped like Maki’s, but her lips were parted, trying to form any word that comes to mind.  Nothing comes out.  Her eyebrows can’t stop pinching and relaxing.  Worst of all, the tears that were silently streaming down her face.

Maki was the first to bark out an insult at Gojo for his insensitive display.  Panda welcomes Itadori back as he and Inumaki follow after Maki to come up with a plan of attack before the Exchange Event begins.

Yuji awkwardly climbed out of the box he was still standing in, approaching his friends with a frown.

“I thought you guys would be more excited”

“You- you were dead, Itadori” Megumi’s the first to stutter over his quiet statement.  

Nobara’s chewing on her lip, but some of the color was returning to her face the longer he stood before her, and she was sure that he was going to disappear like a ghost again.

(y/n’s) left to stare with wide teary eyes, still half behind Megumi, still rendered speechless.  Yuji wonders if she even knows she’s crying.

“I’m… I’m glad you’re back.  We’re glad you’re back,” 

Megumi would love it if one of the girls would speak up.  But Nobara still looks like she might be sick, and he hasn’t found the courage to check on how (y/n’s) been taking the last few minutes.  He’s pretty sure she’s crying behind him and he didn’t know how to take that on.

“Just in time too, yeah?” He finishes with an awkward cough.  Yuji can barely manage a nod before Megumi leaves.

Nobara mutters something of a similar sentiment before she leaves as well.   It’s through a cough and a gag, but she tries, and Yuji appreciates it nonetheless.

With everyone else gone, and without Megumi to hide behind, (y/n) seems more exposed now.  Never before in Yuji’s presence had she wanted to shrink down into the earth, and she hates feeling that way now.

“Gojo thought that would be fun…” He starts to explain himself, his hand going over the back of his neck.  “I’m realizing now that it was probably… really stupid, huh- oof!” 

He didn’t get the chance to properly apologize before she crashed into him.  It’s so fast, almost a blur, that he nearly loses balance.  But her arms are wrapped around his middle so tight he thinks even if he had tripped up, she would’ve righted him with her strong hold with no issue.

“So stupid,” She repeats before pulling away, and finally wiping away the tears on her face with the back of her hands.  “You were dead Yuji, you can’t just- just pop out of a box and expect us to think that’s normal!” 

“I’m sorry,” He blurts out the apology before he can lose any more time.  “I’m really, really sorry, alright? I wish I could have told you guys sooner but Gojo-sensei… well, we thought it was right while I was training.  He was just trying to protect me” 

She nods in understanding, but it’s shaky, and it was clear that she was struggling to actually understand  the whole picture.  Yuji couldn’t be upset with her for processing it all slowly.  Hell, he wasn’t all too caught up himself.  He might’ve gotten ahead of himself a bit with the whole surprise reappearance.

“Look, I get it, I… do,” (y/n) sighs, blinking quickly to rid the last of the tears from her eyes.  It doesn’t quite work.  “Just don’t ever be that stupid again, alright?” 

He chuckles a bit, and for a moment it makes a smile crack on her lips too.  It’s wobbly, but it’s enough to warm his heart.

“I know that’s hard for you,” She teases weakly, before sniffling.  “But you’re gonna have to try, alright?” 

“Alright,” He’s still smiling, but it comes out so genuine it’s heavy.  “Promise, I won’t do anything that stupid again” 

Her wobbly smile stretches a little more, before a small laugh escapes her.

“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep” 

“I don’t” 

To his luck, he hadn’t done anything too stupid since his little ‘I’m still alive!’ bit.  Well, he was pretty sure, considering she had yet to give him that look she had that day.  Thank the gods too, because Yuji’s pretty sure if he ever had to see her cry like that again, he’d die on the spot.

Unfortunately, this means that Yuji learned that day that he couldn’t live with himself if he was the cause of her suffering.  Seeing her cry was hard enough, but knowing he was the sole reason for it? Even thinking about it now, his throat burned hotter.  His eyes did, too, but he was trying to ignore the blur that kept invading his vision for now.

What the hell was with his emotions tonight? He’d come out here to find some peace while storm watching, and instead he’s standing here reminding himself of everything he’d done wrong in his life.

Falling for someone despite knowing he wasn’t meant to walk this earth for much longer had to have been some twisted punishment for something wicked he’d done in a past life.  

Or was it punishment for carrying the most wicked thing within him now? 

Swallowing that first finger months ago on a whim to save a stranger’s life, was that the day that sealed his fate? 

Was he doomed from the start or doomed somewhere along the way?

Would he be able to live with himself, not for the evil residing inside of him, but knowing that one day he’d have to leave the people he’s grown to love more than anything in the world, and he’d leave them knowing that they wouldn’t see him go without fighting, kicking, screaming- 

Wait, did he just see something move?

Shaking his head of his self pitying thoughts, he blinked away the fog in his eyes and tried to focus on where he could’ve sworn he’d seen movement.  Sure enough seconds later his eyes were bulging out of his head and he was abandoning his safe and dry spot under the awning in order to take off towards the figure.

She’s half jogging, at such an awkward speed Yuji could only wonder if she wasn’t even rushing to get to a dry spot.  Maybe she’d indulged herself in the rain the same way he’d thought about doing earlier.  Either way he’s sprinting towards her and closing the distance in rapid time.

He’s surprised upon his approach when he hears her laughter.  Sweet and bubbly, as if being caught in the rain was the funniest thing in the world.  Even though it had to be intentional, didn’t it? At this hour? She had to have chosen to come outside- much less walk around the campus? 

“What are you doing out here?” He hollers over the loud rain once he reaches her.

(y/n) grins at him, and he swears even with the moon in hiding behind the storm clouds, it reflects it’s light onto her somehow anyways.  She’s already soaked through, the walk from the girls’ dorms to the boys’ isn’t a short one by design.  Even if she was doing a half-jog the whole way over.  Her body trembles like a leaf in the wind and Yuji tries to usher her back to where he was, but she seems to have no urgency about her at all.

“Aren’t you freezing? C’mon, you should get out of the-” 

“It’s alright!” She waves her hand around to dismiss Yuji’s worries.  “I wouldn’t have come out here if I was afraid of getting a little wet” 

(Yuji thinks this is why Megumi used to make fun of her for being a manic pixie dream girl.  He had yet to fully understand the term himself, but this painted a pretty clear picture.  He’ll have to ask Megumi about it later) 

“A little wet?” He chuckles, hoping that if he picks up his pace she will too, but she doesn’t.  “You’re soaked through” 

She just shrugs, and follows alongside him towards the boys’ dorms, where he had been sitting dry just moments ago.  That’s long gone now, his tee shirt and sweatpants felt heavy and cold as they clung to his skin.  His hair hangs almost in his eyes, raindrops dripping onto his eyelashes and making him rub his eyes from the irritation every few minutes.  

It wasn’t very pleasant at all.  He’s glad he didn’t step out into the rain earlier.  Without her company, it wouldn’t have been worth it.

“What’re you doing out here anyways?” He’s still yelling through the rain, but they’re almost to the peace and quiet of the awning now.  “It’s pretty late” 

“You’re up too,” She shoots back like it’s a scold, even though there’s still a grin on her face.  

He’s dying to know what has her so delighted even in these awful conditions.  He’s certain it’s nearing two in the morning- if not later- the storm was so awful they had to yell to hear one another, and now they were both soaked to the bone and shaking like dogs to try and preserve heat.  Honestly, everything about this present moment should suck.  But it simply doesn’t.

“Which I should’ve expected.  Once the storm really started I wanted to come see if you were watching it too.  I know you like that sort of thing” 

His heart does a stupid flutter at the simple fact about him she’d remembered.  It might have also had something to do with her coming all the way here.  In the rain.  In her pajamas.  Her cute hello kitty themed pajamas.

They finally reach the awning and (y/n) gets to work ringing out the hem of her tee shirt.  It’s useless, even with the shocking amount of rainwater splashing on the ground, but Yuji doesn’t comment on it.

“You could’ve just texted you know” He mumbles, hoping the dark would hide the heat that rushes to his face.  Although, it’s somewhat welcomed, as he’s still shivering a bit from being in the rain.

(y/n) looks up at him, stopping her movements to wrap her arms around herself instead.  She was still cold too, but she didn’t say anything about it, didn’t try to rush back to her dorm or anything of the sort.

“Well maybe I wanted to come and see you, too,” She suggests, her smile softening as she gazes up at him.

He laughs, bashfully hanging his head to bite back the smile that threatens to take over his whole face.  (y/n) laughs with him, solely for the fact that she’d gotten him to crack just a little bit.

It had been awhile since he’d acted himself around her.  Maybe only a few days, but there was a notable change.  He wanted to hang out less, was rushing out of class, and training on his own more often.  For someone as extroverted as Yuji, it was easy to notice.  It had been nagging at her for longer than she would’ve liked, but she didn’t work up the courage to address it until tonight.

“Yuji,” 

His name comes out in a soft whisper.  Had she spoken so low while they were still caught in the rain, he surely wouldn’t have heard it.  It hits him now with the force of a truck.  He can’t help but give her every ounce of his attention.

“I’ve been meaning to ask… are you alright?” 

The concern laced in her gentle voice has him worrying, too.  There was some sort of hypnosis involved whenever she spoke to him, as if she had the power to compel him to answer anything she asked.  It was a terrifying ability, however Yuji was convinced she didn’t know she possessed it, so theoretically he was safe.  For now.

When he doesn’t answer right away, (y/n) feels an overwhelming need to explain herself.

“You’ve just been a little distant and… and I want to make sure you’re doing okay.  It’s okay if you’re not, just…” She trails off for a moment, her eyes flickering between his as she tries to decode whatever heavy emotion is sitting behind them.  “Just know I’m here for you if you need to talk, or anything, alright?” 

“I know,” He nods back at her right away.  Of course he knew.  She was the most compassionate person he’d ever known.  Just being in her presence relaxed him to a dangerous state of relief.  That said, his heart was beating at odd intervals as she displayed this much concern over his well being.  “I’m okay, you don’t need to worry” 

He tries to convince her with a smile, but she must see through it, because she gives him a puzzled look as her gaze sweeps over him.  A beat passes before she takes a deep breath.

“Of course I need to,” It’s not intended for it to come out in a whisper, but it does anyways.  “I’ll…” She loses her voice again as her eyebrows pinch together.  

Yuji wonders if she doesn’t know what to say, or if she can’t say what she wants to.  Either way, he waits with as much patience as he can muster for her to finish.  

“I’ll always worry” 

When it finally comes out, (y/n) seals her lips together, pressing them just tight enough that she’s sure they won’t let anything slip that she isn’t prepared to say.  Although if the pounding heart in her chest has anything to do with it, it very well could all come tumbling out before she could stop herself.

The corners of Yuji’s mouth tilt into a frown as he stares back at her with his own concern.  This isn’t right, she shouldn’t be worrying about him.  The logical corner of his brain is raising red flags at alarming speeds.  He needs to find something to say to right this, before she could put too much of her worry in him.  He wasn’t worth worrying about, didn’t she see? He wouldn’t be here forever anyways, there were definitely more worthwhile things for her to focus on.

Instead, all that comes out is a quiet, “Why?” 

(y/n) blinks, as if not understanding what he means at first.  Her arms squeeze around herself a little tighter to preserve warmth, but really she’s only squishing the cold and soggy material of her pajama shirt against her stomach.

“Why?” She repeats in a soft huff, before shaking her head.  “You’ll never really get it, hm?” 

The tiniest of smiles forms on her lips as she looks up at him, gauging his reaction.  Just like before, he’s got that lost look on his face.  It’s cute, the little knot between his brows and the way his frown deepens but only makes his lip jut out in a pout.  One of these days she’ll tell him how adorable this look on him is, but right now she’s only seeking to help him understand the way she feels about him.

“Yuji, do you remember when we all thought you’d died, but then Gojo brought you back?”

“Of course” He answers her without hesitation.

“And I cried at you and made you promise not to do anything stupid like that again?” 

This time, Yuji nods his head back at her.

“I’d never seen you cry before” He mumbles.  Just like earlier, thinking about it makes his stomach squirm uncomfortably.

“Well, that was probably the thousandth time I’d cried over you,” She tells him, and his eyes go wide with alarm.  A short, humorless laugh escapes her as she shakes her head at him.  “Not because of anything you’d done,” She says quickly, already knowing there was going to be a misunderstanding.  “But… we thought you were dead for quite some time, and I… I didn’t know what to do with myself.  I’ve never felt like a larger failure as a sorcerer- as- as a person, when you died,” 

Yuji’s frown worsens.

“I mean I… I was a wreck, it was awful.  I could barely sleep, eat, train- I actually was denied assignments for a while.  Gojo thought I would be a liability.  I know he was just worried about me, but… what I’m trying to say is it was hard,” Her voice strains and she has to take a pause to even her breathing before her emotions could get on top of her.  “Really hard” She adds quietly.

“I… I didn’t realize it was like that,” Yuji mumbles, ducking his head to stare down at the ground.  How could he be so stupid? She’d suffered over him and shortly after coming back he’d started distancing himself without an explanation.  “I’m sorry, I feel so-” 

“No, don’t,” (y/n) steps forward, tilting her chin to catch his line of sight even when he tries to avoid her gaze.  “I don’t need you to apologize, you haven’t done anything wrong, not at all,” She even gives him a small smile to convince him.  It takes a minute for him to commit to looking back at her.  “Yuji, it’s quiet the opposite” 

“The opposite?” He repeats, and she nods her head.

Her nerves have her repeatedly pushing her wet strands of hair behind her ears, tucking the same strands over and over to make sure they couldn’t possibly fall out of place.  Even though with how wet they were they practically slicked back against her head.

“I’m trying to tell you that I care about you, idiot,” She breathes out the insult so softly, so lovingly that even though it’s nature is cruel, his heart accepts it as the most darling pet name anyone had ever called him.  “So I’m going to worry about you… because I’ve lost you before, and I don’t want to go through that again” 

It doesn’t dawn on him how much closer she’d gotten to him until he lifts his head and they’re almost nose to nose.  Her eyes don’t shy away from his once.  They’re soft, and full of his favorite constellations.  He melts little by little before her, until his muscles stop shivering.

“I don’t ever want to put you through that again,” 

He whispers it as if it’s the most hidden secret he could offer her.  With it, his hand reaches out towards her, his eyes landing on the smallest strand of wet hair that she’d missed in her rampant tucking.  It’s clung to her cheek from the rain.  But his movements still just before his fingers could graze over her skin.

“But…” 

He doesn’t have to say it.  They both know.  There’s no sense in speaking about the thing that they never talk about.  It was his burden to carry, wasn’t it?  It wasn’t fair to make anyone else carry the weight of his punishment.  Even if just for a moment.  Even if his back is tired and he longs to love her like a man with no worry about a scheduled death date creeping up on him.

Yuji swallows, hard, trying to keep the unspoken reality just that- unspoken.

But he can’t help but feel as though he owes her an explanation.

“But I’m afraid I’m going to,” His mouth feels dry as he finally tiptoes towards the subject.  (y/n’s) face falls.  “One day, you know I… I’ll be gone and- and I won’t be coming back again” 

As her eyes flicker between his, there’s the smallest of movement in her chin, and incidentally she feels his fingertips ghost over her cheek.  Her head tilts towards the warmth of his featherlight touch right away, leaning into it until the pads of his fingers are pressed into her soft cheekbone.

As Yuji tells himself to pull away and step back, he finds the rest of his hand following her movement, until his palm is fitted over her cheek, and the tip of his index finger is finally pushing that stray hair back behind her ear.

“Are you afraid of death?” Her question is murmured so softly it’s almost spoken right into his lips.

He shakes his head.

“No,” He answers quietly.  “No, I’m not afraid of death.  I’m afraid of… what gets left behind,” 

He’s never shared this with anyone before.  He’d been bottling up the nasty feelings that come with knowing you’ll be executed for so long that it felt criminal to admit them to her now.  Especially when she frowns up at him, and he can see the tears forming in her pretty eyes.

“I’m afraid that I’m going to hurt the people I care about because… because I cared about them” He admits.

When she blinks, a tear escapes, and makes a run for it down her cheek.

“Yuji…” She trails off, a small gasp interrupting her.  “You won’t hurt anyone,” She tells him, even as another tear follows suit.  Just as it slips past her cheekbone, Yuji’s thumb catches it, and he wipes it away without hesitation, determined to keep her from crying over him anymore than she already has.  “We’ll be okay” 

“I don’t want to keep making you cry” He sighs, and she reaches up to grab him by the wrist, squeezing onto it as she presses her cheek further into the palm of his hand.

“You’re not making me cry,” She assures him, a watery smile stretching over her lips.  “I’m crying because- because what I’m afraid of is that you’ll die not knowing how loved you were,” 

His frown finally softens, morphing into faint surprise.

“I would never forgive myself if I didn’t make sure that you know that, every single day, for as long as you live,” She’s stammering a little bit, but there’s a sudden rush that overwhelms her, making her want to spill it all out before it’s too late.  “I’ve never… I’ve never felt so moved by another person before I met you, Yuji,” She confesses.  “I was just… training to be my best every day just because I thought that’s what you do when you’re in my position but then… then you came along, seemingly out of nowhere, and you turned everything so upside down I could barely see what the right direction was,” 

She’s cut off by a giggle that escapes her, and it’s almost out of place, but her entire face brightens with it as she relives that first blossom of feeling he’d sparked in her.  She’d never be able to describe to him exactly what he’d done for her, he’d never understand the way he sparked a purpose in her so deep that it made her feel like she’d finally grown a soul, but she could try.

“Yuji, you gave me a reason to want to be a jujutsu sorcerer, you know?” And he doesn’t know, but she continues anyway.  “You made me not only want to be a better sorcerer, but a better person.  That’s why when you died I felt so pathetic, for not being able to do something, to help you,” She explained.  “You were so bright and- and eager to do the right thing even when it was hard, even though you have every reason to just- just do whatever you want, to leave if you wanted…” 

She gnaws on her lip for a moment as she processes it all herself.  Her heart felt heavy in her chest, but she felt a certain responsibility to tell him the full truth.

“But you didn’t… you… you stayed,” She mumbles.

At this point, Yuji’s too stunned to speak, so he just stood there, frozen, taking in every word she had to say.  He doesn’t want to interrupt her, but he’s also at such a loss for words nothing would come out if he tried.

“I’m trying to tell you I- that I lo-” 

“Don’t,” 

He shakes his head, his hand sliding lower over her cheek, thumb hovering just over her lips, ready to press down if his interruption wasn’t enough to keep her from finishing her confession.  But she does stop, and he watches closely to make sure she doesn’t try again, his thumb still hovering just over her quivering lips just in case.

“Don’t say that” He whispers, quieter than the rain around them.

With the hand she still has curled around his wrist, she pulls his hand away, dropping them at their sides.

“Why not?” Her brows pinch together, her heart aching with the weight of the words still stuck inside of her.

“Because, you…” He tries to give her a reason, but it’s not an easy feat.  It takes a few tries of him opening and closing his mouth before something actually comes out.  “Because you can’t” 

She doesn’t like that answer.  She frowns back at him.

“Yuji, you-” 

“Because if you say that, then when I’ll die, I’ll know it, and I’ll know that I’m letting you down again.  I’ll know that you’ll cry over me, and you’ll- you’ll hurt and I can’t- I’m selfish, alright? I can’t cause that, I don’t want that-” 

“Yuji,” She calls his name again, this time reaching for him with her trembling fingers, clutching at the front material of his shirt to grab his attention enough to cut him off.  “It’s far too late for that now,” She says it with a chuckle and a bittersweet smile forming on her face.  Her head tilts at him, just a short angle, but enough that it makes him feel weak in the knees.  “Don’t you think?” 

No, there’s still time to take this all back, there’s still time to fix this.  There’s still time for him to end whatever is happening now and forget that it ever happened.

The faint nod he gives is only received due to the movement of his wet hair.  He’s not sure why he’s agreeing with her, but the logical corner of his brain was being squandered by his body’s instant reaction to be honest with her, to comfort her, to make everything okay, anything to keep her from crying.

“Too late?” He echoes the words curiously.  

Her smile softens as she nods back at him again, her free hand touching his jaw, so lightly he wants nothing more than to grab her wrist and press her hand into his face until the warmth of her small palm against his jaw was the only thing that he could feel.

She nods back at him, her lips pursing towards the corner of her mouth as she fights the urge to grin back at him.

“Afraid so,” She murmurs back.

They share small smiles and warm cheeks for a moment, and (y/n) becomes a little more sure of herself as she lays her fingers against the length of his jaw.

“But either way, are you gonna let me fess up now?” She asks, and it seems she really was waiting for his approval.  “I walked all this way in the rain, you know-” 

“When you have my number” He reminds her, and she laughs again, quiet and sweet.

“I felt like the walk” 

“During a huge storm?”

“Needed the air” 

“You’re soaked to the bone, you’re still shivering” 

“And it’s so bad that I wanted to come ‘n see you?” 

“I’m in love with you,” 

The bantering ends there.  (y/n’s) eyes double in size, and her shaking fingers finally still against his skin.  There’s no doubt that she heard him, but with how frozen she is before him now it was as if he suddenly lost the ability to understand the language.

Yuji’s cradling her face again, his hands cupped under her jaw and his face so close she could almost tear up again.

“I’m so in love with you,” He says it again for good measure, or just because he couldn’t hold it back now that it was out there.  “I…” He shakes his head, a breathless laugh escaping him, before he can’t help but confess one more time.  “I love you” 

“I love you too” It comes out so fast, as if the blockage in her throat was suddenly removed.  It’s followed by the faintest of smiles at first, timid and sweet- it’s the most innocent he’s ever seen her look.  

(Compared to the twisted grins she’d wear on assignments and even while training on her own, at least)

The shy smile quickly spreads wider, until it’s a goofy and toothy grin.  She can’t contain the spurts of giggles that escape her, because it’s just all too cliche isn’t it? Getting caught in the rain, sharing confessions that might be better left unsaid- and yet they just couldn’t help themselves.

He’s laughing with her, quiet and soft, before his hands drop to her hips and wind around her waist, tugging her against him in a tight hug. 

The sticky wet clothes make them both chilly again, but no one seems to mind.  Not when she’s wrapping her arms around his neck so tight that their wet clothes are clinging together.  They hang on as tight as they can before the wet clothes become too much of a hindrance, and they have to peel apart.

“C’mon,” Yuji’s quick to sling his arm around her waist and pull her towards the door.  “Let’s get some dry clothes” 

She follows him in, keeping as close as she can and walking on the tips of her toes once they’re inside, just to be sure that they wouldn’t be heard.  Even though the thunder was still rolling outside, Megumi was a known light sleeper, and they wouldn’t put it past him to wake up at the slightest creak of a floorboard.

“And something to eat, too?” She whispers, peeking up at him with hopeful eyes.

Yuji nods, smiling back at her.  It was ridiculously late, they surely wouldn’t be getting enough sleep to be well rested tomorrow, but that was a problem for tomorrow.

“Anything in mind?” He asks as they creep their way through the halls.  The smile she gives him in return suggests that she already knew exactly what she wanted.  Yuji can’t say he’s surprised when she answers.

“Meatballs…?” 

And it might be a ridiculous ask- because it’s two in the morning and it’ll be at least an hour before they could actually eat the meatballs, but Yuji beams at the suggestion, and agrees to the request right away.

“It’s about time I teach you how to make them, anyways” He says softly.

“Yeah,” (y/n) agreed, whispering just as carefully.  “I’d like that a lot” 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ lost but now i am found // i can see that once i was blind // tryna take what i could get, scared that i couldn’t find all the answers honey ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

[flordeamatista]

THE MAGICIAN

pairing: mafia!lloyd hansen x reader x mafia!nick fowler

concept:  Ecstasy and intense burn fuse together like mirrors falling from the sky.

word count: 2k

warnings: mirror sex + chase kink + double penetration (vaginal and anal), soft dubcon to be safe, mature themes,unprotected sex, nickname ──(Princess, Sunshine) (flashing gif ── glitching gif)

lovely beta: @writing-for-marvel & @lunarbuck

THE WITCHING HOUR ──── KINKTOBER'23

masterlist

A gentle breeze of cold, wet air won't make your fears disappear.

Rain continued to pour down, the icy drops searing your skin as you stepped into the abandoned carnival. Gunfire and lightning lit up the sky, a vivid warning that he lurked around every corner.

Your stomach twisted with terror as you pushed open the carnival gates. Your face was soaked in raindrops, and you felt fear rising from your bones. The cold air reminded you that you were alone and fighting for every moment.

With a charcoal sky in the background, the fairground rides spun and creaked, their colors competing with the smoke from gunshots echoing among them. The thrill rides became a roar of chaos as everyone screamed in response to each gunshot.

In the darkness above, fluffy clouds were tinted black, interrupted only by flickering flames that licked up like tongues of fire, illuminating the whole scene in an eerie carnival glow.

A thick, chaotic energy descended over the scene, overwhelming the sense of tension and stillness. It was clear that his anger had reached a boiling point. 

It was all your fault.

His face was contorted in rage as he surveyed his domain, stomping around and smashing anything that dared cross his path.

During his shooting spree, your name was shouted.

Two paths lay before you - one led to safety through the House of Mirrors, and the other led to certain death.

The faint red light shining from ahead made your stomach churn with fear. Darkness filled the air with dread and suffering. While explosions echoed in the distance, you remained indecisive.

Tightly clenching your hands, you took a deep breath before reluctantly stepping forward.

Stepping through the entrance, you removed your jacket. Your senses were overwhelmed by his words running through your mind. Reflections gleamed off the walls as if you were trapped in a time warp. There was a shakiness in your breathing. A wall of mirrors reflected each other in an endless regression of images.

Suddenly, your nose was filled with the unmistakable aromas of a man before his rough hands snatched your waist and pulled you back towards his chest.  

You fell to your knees. His rough hand covered your mouth while he pulled his gun from its holster at his waistband, keeping it cool against your neck. Moving your body left, you tried to squirm away from his gun. When his hands reached your shoulders, he squeezed them and pushed you back down.

“Shhh… Sunshine. What are you doing here?” The gun barrel pressed into your throat as he straddled you, crushing you beneath his full weight. Whistling escaped his lips, but when he took the gun away from your neck, only emptiness followed. His eyes were on your rear end as he groped away from your neck and down to give you a squeeze. “I'm here to help us." He pushed himself off you and offered you his hand, forcing you to look at him directly through his crystal blue eyes. 

Your tears streamed down your face, and you squeezed your eyelids shut. It was exhausting running from him, maybe this was all you had left.

However, you would meet his enemy, and you didn’t not know whether that would be a victory or a defeat.

"Us?” you spat out. It was clear to you who was holding you down, and you also knew that he didn’t play by the rules.

“Yes, Sunshine, because you have things I want from you. And you need me desperately."

Through your lashes, you saw his eyes scan over your body as he wound his gun from your lips to your breasts.

The voice of this man is familiar to you, one who is labeled as a narcissistic sociopath and who is incapable of empathy for anyone except himself. Your plans were at the center of his fucked up plan for you.

Glistening demonic blue eyes just gave you a hint at what he wanted.

“Leave me alone, Lloyd! You're no better than him," you shouted. 

The darkening of his eyes and the calloused grip of his hands told you just how angry he was. Then he ran his fingers delicately along your blouse’s lacing until they rested on your breasts. 

Pulling you close, he tied your arms behind your body. He held you tight in place as you gasped in shock and stepped back. Lloyd pulled his gun from his back pocket as he leaned forward to kiss you. His grip was firm as his lips pressed against yours, and you could feel his tenacious body bear down on you, making you shiver. In fear, you struggled to loosen his grip, but he only tightened it more. 

"That's fine," he growled with a mocking smirk. "We can do it that way too." 

Your wrists were bound behind your back, the rope digging into your skin. Lloyd had spun you around and pushed you up against the cold mirror glass. You could feel every muscle in his body as he pressed against yours. He made every inch of himself felt, from his thick cock to the smirk on his lips. It was an out-of-body experience, being touched all over by someone else's hands while they did it for their own pleasure. 

Taking out a handkerchief from his pocket, Lloyd moved it towards your face and filled your nostrils with a pungent smell. Once you were feeling lightheaded from the dizzying scent, he whispered, "I've got you, Sunshine," into your ear before sweeping you up and carrying you into the depths of the house of mirrors.

The air was filled with gloomy lust.

You sat on a chair in nothing but your underwear. The walls of the room were lined with mirrors containing an image of yourself so you could see every angle of how you ended up here.

The man behind it all was Mafia King, Lloyd Hansen; he seemed to have total control over any situation at all times, even when he was losing.

Lloyd placed his hand on your shoulder as he leaned down.

“I know what you want," you said in a soft voice, "but I'm not going to give it to you no matter how hard you try." 

Slowly, his hand maneuvered down the front of your underwear to gently touch your clit.

"You like this, don't you? I heard you had him under your spell, so let me have a taste, Sunshine."

You refused to break, spitting on him as he smiled unbothered by your defiance. 

"My cock will surely break you, Sunshine. But the worst punishment will be sharing you with him since you decided to cross into neutral territory," he said sinisterly.

On cue, Nick Fowler appeared in the frame of the mirror, clapping as if watching a play. "Ah," Lloyd murmured, "he's here."

“Hello, Princess. Looks like you got yourself into an even bigger mess with two mafia men.” 

Taking Lloyd's knife from his back pocket and untying the rope, Nick walked alongside the chair and forced you to stand up. He grabbed your throat firmly and locked his piercing blue gaze on you. 

Slowly, Lloyd's hands rubbed the inside of your thighs while pushing them further apart. He weighed your response as he smirked at you.

The only thing you could do was whine and try to keep your eyes open.

A buzz of anticipation filled your body.

"Shh, Princess," whispered Nick. "Take a look in the mirror. See what he is doing to you."

The smirk on Lloyd’s face appeared as he placed his two fingers on either side of your swelling lips. You don’t tell him to stop. 

Sensual and delicate to the touch.

Nick's fingertips gently massaged each of your breasts, savouring the softness and firmness. When he heard you moaning, he gently squeezed your nipples until they hardened between his forefinger and thumb.

Slowly, Lloyd inserted a finger inside you, followed by another, causing your hips to rock forward. 

For them, finding the information they needed took only seconds. You, on the other hand, enjoyed them taking their sweet time devouring every part of your body.

"Fuck, you're soaking wet, and we've only just begun." Fear gripped you as your head was clouded in fog. You could feel Lloyd's rough hands against your neck. You could feel your pussy becoming wet just by the simple touch.

Your nose was filled with the scent of sweat and whiskey. Lloyd smoothed his other hand over your spine as if it were a stream of water flowing down it.

“Remember, Princess, we are on neutral territory and that means you have to deal with both of us.” Nick’s voice was firm but distant as it echoed off the mirrors. 

Nick’s warm breath tickled your neck as he slowly eased himself inside you, inch by inch. His moans of pleasure filled the room as you were engulfed by his hard, thick cock. Every time Nick thrust into you, he took you to new levels of pleasure.

You felt Lloyd's chest pressing against your back as Nick moved faster and faster, increasing in intensity until you finally screamed out in pleasure. 

“Let me fuck this ass. Maybe she’ll tell us with two dicks in her holes." Lloyd began blowing air on your back while he moaned about what he wanted to do with you as Nick thrust in and out. "Let's get you warmed up"

That's how this is gonna feel, baby, so strong that it'll make you alive. 

“Open her up for me, Nick” 

Nick's hands glided down your body, cupping either side of your ass. His fingers pried apart your cheeks. Gentle but assertive pressure let you know he was readying you for Lloyd. 

Lloyd's eyes smiled into yours as his tip tested the waters. You felt a slight burn as he inched inside your tightness. “Kitten, oh, Kitten,” he murmured, coaxing you along. 

Nick pulled away slightly and demanded that you look at him. He captured your gaze with his own, and the intensity in the double mirror reflection was almost too much to take in.

The sensation of being filled by both men triggered moans and gasps to erupt from deep within you. 

“Look at you taking us in,” Lloyd said reassuringly as his hand moved back and forth on your spine. He delivered a sharp slap to your ass, sending shivers racing through your body. 

His lips left a trail of heat down your neck, teasingly stroking the sensitive area that instantly made your body hum. One hand rubbed circles around your clit while the other teased and tugged at it. You sank further into their embrace as both men pressed deeper into you, and the sensations swirled through your body. Their groans and cries pushed against your body's walls until finally, they reached an explosive release.

You clenched around the two dangerous men, and they spilled their cum in you as they fought over pleasure and pain.

 Ecstasy and intense burn fuse together like mirrors falling from the sky.

[throneofsapphics]

the ebb and flow of fate part 4 

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part five) (epilogue)

Cazriel x f!Reader

Summary: She felt a tug, a thread like current weaving between the three of them, and shoved deep, deep down.

Warnings: injuries, nightmares, angst, a bit of fluff, depression, throwing up, drinking

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: I’m back ish! It felt so good to write again, this was close to finished before & I can’t promise when the next part will be out but I’m crossing my fingers for soon, I’m guessing there’ll be about 1-2 more

Cassian’s mad for several reasons. The main one being - she risked her life for him. Put herself in danger for him. He’s mad at himself as well for being … well, a complete asshole to her. But, right now it was easier to hold on to his anger than process any other kinds of emotions. Even if it’s not fair to her. 

He gazed over at the sleeping form, brows furrowed, curled up tightly on her side. 

His fault. 

It's his fault she’s in that pain, in that state. 

Assigning blame won’t help.

Won’t help a damn person. 

The door creaked open, Mor popping her head in. 

“Any change?” She asked, not bothering to look at him.

Another side-effect of the fucked up situation. His longtime friend, her sister, was pissed at him. Pissed at both him and Azriel, for reasons she wouldn’t disclose. Fuck, she only spoke to him when absolutley necessary - or to ask after y/n. 

“No,” his voice was curt, tone sharp. Mor finally looked at him, her eyes narrowed as she took another step in, leaving the door open behind her. 

“You can leave.” 

“I just got here,” he leaned back further in his chair, crossing his arms, looking away from her burning stare. 

“And you obviously don’t want to be,” the blonde snapped. 

“When did I say that?” 

“You didn’t have to.” 

“I want to be here,” he said through gritted teeth. Mor let out a noise of disbelief, and he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. With Azriel, they’d agreed not to announce their bond without speaking to her first. Whether or not the others figured it out, was up to them. 

“I do.” He insisted, still feeling Mor’s glare on him. The female left without another word, the door quietly closing behind her. 

Cassian stood, dragging his chair behind him towards the edge of the bed. Everything about this was confusing. Frustrating beyond belief. 

The door creaked again, and he opened his mouth to tell Mor to leave him the hell alone, but the scent of night mist and cedar hit him, and his mouth snapped shut. Azriel closed the door behind him, but didn’t move from it, leaning against the frame and observing them from afar. He tilted his head back, neck resting on the top of the chair as he looked at the ceiling. At this point, he knew every small swirl and indent of it. 

His attention snapped back in front of him as a small groan sounded, finding y/n’s eyes heavily blinking, darting between him and Azriel. 

“Another nightmare,” she muttered, and closed her eyes again. He couldn’t fight the small snort that left him. Apparently that’s what they were to her; a nightmare. It didn’t sit right with him, but he didn’t do anything to try and fix it. She could easily brush off anything he said as a delusion or hallucination. To him, there’s no point in fixing anything now, not with what Madja told them. 

 ‘I cannot guarantee how much she will remember - if anything.’

Maybe that could play in his favor, confess everything he wanted to - and brush it off as one of her hallucinations later on. He shook his head, throwing the idea out of it. That was cruel, and he hated himself for considering it. 

“Not a nightmare,” Az finally spoke. He knew she was still awake, but chose to ignore him. 

-

Morning dew coating the moss soaked through her clothing, drenching her back and legs. Her eyes are fixed above her, on the clouds warping in and out of different shapes. She can’t move, can’t block out the images, can’t escape the thoughts circling inside of her mind. Cruel words whispered in voices so familiar, but just out of reach.

Even the clouds seem to be her enemy, forming arrows launching across the sky. Could they be considered clouds? As far as she knows, clouds don’t move like that.

Not real. Not real. Not real. She chants in her mind. Regardless, right now this is her reality. There’s a vague awareness behind her, that this will end at some point. All things considered, this one is rather tame compared to the others. 

-

Thrown into her room, she cowers in the corner, wrapping her arms around her legs and tucking them in tight. Maybe if she makes herself small, they won’t notice. He won’t notice. They’ll finally leave her alone. 

Heavy footsteps pound across the room as she squeezes her eyes shut, if she can’t see it - it’s not real. It won’t happen. Cruel hands tighten around her arms, another slapping against her mouth to muffle her screams -

“Wake up,” a voice says. Wake up from where? The males hands brand into her, his body looming over her - 

“Wake up,” the same voice repeats. 

An invisible hand tightens around her shoulder, shaking it back and forth. She glances down, but the hand isn’t there. Only the one tightening around her upper arm, the grip bruising. 

“Wake up, y/n.”

Her screams are still muffled, her back slammed against the wood. 

Gentle fingers run across her forehead, “please,”

Nausea whirls as she’s flung back into her body, an arm steadies her as she launches forward, clutching a hand over her mouth. 

A bowl is placed in front of her, and she empties the contents of her stomach into it. Minutes pass, and she’s still heaving, her body pale and shaking. 

“Get it all out,” the same voice says. One she can recognize now. A voice she loathes, mostly for the comfort it’s bringing her now, even the real hand that's rubbing her back. 

As soon as she’s done, the bowl and its contents disappear, and she shoved the hand away, shuffling as quickly as she could to the other side of the bed, ignoring the pain shooting up her arms and legs, and tumbled out, barely catching herself on the other side of the wall. 

“Gods-damned it,” someone cursed, and she felt their presence moving in the room, at her side before she could make it to the bathroom on her own. 

“Go away,” she mumbled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“And let you fall on your ass?” Cassian muttered. That’s who the voice was. 

“Yes,” she manages to say, even though each breath hurts. She groans again as his arm wraps under her knees, the other behind her back. In her mind, she can pretend she’s protesting and fighting him on it, but in reality she doesn’t have the energy to. 

He deposits her in front of the sink, and hovers a few steps away like an unwelcome shadow. 

“Fuck off.” 

“A little gratitude wouldn’t hurt.” 

“Why should I be grateful to you? You don’t have to be here,” her hands grip the edge of the sink as she glares at him through the mirror, doing her best not to focus looking at herself. 

“Yes, I do,” he leaned against the doorframe nonchalantly, but she knew he’s observing every movement of hers, looking for any sign of weakness. 

Letting out a large sigh, she cups her hands under the water to rinse her mouth out. A small toothbrush and toothpaste appear next to her, and she thanks the house for it. At least he doesn’t call out how her hands shake with each movement, taking a few tries to actually get the toothpaste on the brush. 

A few minutes later, and she feels marginally better, some of her strength returning. 

Y/n slapped his hand away as she made her way out of the bathroom, but couldn’t stop him from hovering behind her. His shadow covers hers, engulfing her completely as she makes her way back to the bed. The bed. Her damned prison now. 

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” he commented after she settled back in. 

“And you know what’s good for me now?

“Quit putting words in my mouth,” his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, “I swear if you weren’t injured i’d -” 

“You’d what?” Hazel eyes glared at her for the interruption. “Go on.” 

“No.” 

“Exactly,” she forces a grin, “you’d do nothing.” 

His head tilts back, as if he’s praying to the mother for patience. Maybe if she annoyed him enough he’ll leave her alone. 

-

She was finally in a state of somewhat lucidity, and all he’s getting is her attitude. At least her real feelings hadn’t changed much. Yesterday was a whirlwind. 

“I think I love you both,” she sighed as Azriel ran a cloth over her forehead. He froze, his entire body going still. It was one of the times they both were in the room. 

Azriel, to his credit, didn’t stop his motions. 

“Sometimes,” she continued, “even if you’ve been assholes.” 

She went on to reference something he knew hadn’t happened, and Cassian tried to think of ways he could forget those words. I love you. 

It didn’t work, her soft and gentle voice had replayed in his mind the rest of the night. Void of the venom she usually spoke to them with. 

-

“I thought we were mates at one point, but mates can’t hurt each other.” Y/n had convinced herself this was a hallucination, and didn’t feel any remorse for saying what’s been on her mind. Dream Cassian and Azriel had frozen and she let out a soft laugh. “It’s alright. This isn’t real. I’d never tell you otherwise.” 

They exchanged a look, and she was impressed with how well her subconscious could mirror their real motions. 

“At first, I wanted everything to blow over or to try and fix it. But now, it’s easier to be angry at both of you,” she turned on her side, propping herself up on one arm, face scrunching. Pain. She pushed past it. “I don’t know if I'll ever not be angry, but I heard that hate sex is enjoyable. Not that you’d ever touch me again.” 

Cassian choked, and Azriel had gone still, shadows whirling around his shoulders. 

“That’s not true,” Az’s quiet and cool voice said. 

“That’s how I know this isn’t real” she let her eyes close again, “and thank the mother for that. I’d be mortified.” 

-

“Anything,” she begged with tears streaming down her face. “Please.” 

Anything to take some of the pain away. Azriel let himself hold her, let himself wrap an arm around her shoulders, lean her shaking body into him. 

“I can’t,” he whispered. 

“Why?” Her tear filled face gazed up at him, eyes full of betrayal, “why do you keep hurting me?” 

“I’m sorry,” his thumb brushed away some of the tears, a gesture too intimate, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

She turned her head away, “if you really were sorry, you’d help me.” 

Her breaths evened out, sleep taking over her body again. Azriel wished it would mean she wasn’t in pain anymore, but the nightmares seemed to get worse as the week went on. Sometimes, she’d be frozen in place, body stiff and eyes darting rapidly behind her lids. Others, she’d thrash in the sheets so violently his shadows would intervene of their own accord, holding her in place enough for him to try and wake her. 

-

“I’m so tired,” she told Mor. “I want it to be over.” 

“It’ll pass with time.”  

“I want everything to be over.” 

Mor’s heart clenched. “Just give it time,” she pleaded, even knowing her sister wasn’t in her right mind. That this wasn’t how she really felt. 

“It’s been years,” she whispered. 

“It’s been a week,” Mor brushed away the strands of hair clinging to her sweaty forehead. “It’ll get better.” 

“Everyone says that.” 

“It’s true, Madja said so.” 

“If Madja said so,” her hand covered her yawn. 

“Get some sleep.” 

Her head shook rapidly, even as her eyes grew heavy, lids closing. “It’s worse in my sleep. I’m alone.” 

-

“You can try using your magic soon.” 

Azriel watched as her eyes lit up, a small spark coming back - as if Madja’s words had somehow breathed life into her. For some reason, he’d insisted on being present as much as possible when the healer visited. If he couldn’t be there physically, his shadows would. 

“Now?” The words were barely above a whisper. 

“We should wait for your cousin.” Her head dropped, the small spark extinguished. “In case anything happens,” Madja added, even though she didn’t need to. Y/n would understand why. If anything got out of control, Rhys would be the best option to contain her magic.

“Step out with me for a minute,” Madja murmured to him as she crossed the doorway. A few shadows lingered behind to keep an eye on her as he followed the healer out. 

The healer studied him with a startling intensity. A few decades ago, he may have been tempted to squirm under her gaze, but now it didn’t affect him. He’s used to being looked at like that - to being scrutinized with everything he does. Still, her gaze lacked the usual distrust present in others. Trust. That’s what he’d built with the healer the last two weeks - regarding his mate, at least. His mind had just become used to calling her that. There wasn’t any other word to describe it, really, even if she chose to ignore the bond once it snapped. That’s another thought he’d become used to - the very real possibility that might happen. He didn’t know if it would be him or her who would. But, he couldn’t stand the thought of her accepting it with Cassian, and not him. They hadn’t discussed that possibility either. Maybe neither of them wanted to speak the chance into existence. 

“It may snap as soon as she has full access, it may not.” 

She’s only repeating things he already knows. 

“I’m aware,” he told her. 

Her eyes narrowed at him. 

“It may … undo some of the progress made. Her mental state is fragile.” He didn’t bother telling her he’s aware of that either, he’d witnessed it himself - either directly or indirectly, he always had eyes on her. Knew every word she’d spoken over the last two weeks. 

Madja was hesitating to say something, so he prompted, “what else should I be aware of?” 

“That’s all for now.” She was hiding something from him. In most cases, he’d figure it out in time. Azriel normally prided himself on his patience, but he’s found when it comes to y/n’s … health, he has little of it. 

“What is it?” He fought to keep his voice cool and steady. 

“I’m still looking into long term effects, although I don’t anticipate many.” Many. Meaning there still will be some. “Keep it between us,” she warned him. 

His brows flicked up slightly at that, but he assured her he would, before slipping back through the door. 

“It’s you again,” she huffed as he entered.

That’s how he knew she was lucid. The attitude and disdain. 

“Thought you’d be happy, getting your magic back.” 

“If it actually happens.” 

Something pricked the back of his neck. “What does that mean?” 

“You think I haven’t been trying?” 

Azriel pushed down his anger. Most of it. “I don’t need to tell you how stupid that is, do I?” 

“You lose your magic for a few weeks, tell me what you think.” 

He’d experienced it temporarily, through ash arrows, but never to this extent. Still, sharp and perhaps distasteful words left him, “I think you’re being reckless.” 

She blinked a few times, a type of haze coming over her eyes. “What if I never get it back?” Just above a whisper, like earlier, but this time filled with dread. 

“Then you adapt,” Azriel said, much gentler. There was a very slim possibility of that happening, but he wouldn’t deny it completely to her. That’s what he’d always brought her, honesty, and he wouldn’t change it now.  

“It’s like … missing a limb.” 

There weren’t any words of comfort he could provide, instead he crossed the room and tugged her to his side. At first, she froze against him, but he ran his fingers through her hair, and slowly she melted, letting herself relax against him. Something he didn’t feel he deserved. 

-

She didn’t lose her magic, and thank the gods because that would’ve snapped the last strand of her sanity. Sanity she felt like she was barely hanging on to at this point. 

Although reality was distorted, some things were clear to her. Cassian and Azriel had been there the most, but she didn’t know whether or not that was by their choice. She didn’t want to know. 

A month later, one particular nightmare hadn’t gone away. 

She was in a town square. Not Velaris, but Autumn. Where her ex-friend lived. 

“I told you I wouldn’t let anything come between us,” a haunting voice whispered, and their wings … her scream was guttural as two pairs of wings dropped, echoing on the stone. 

Her hand covered her mouth, trying to muffle the remnants of the scream, before remembering the shield she’d put up for this reason. 

She had to know they were alright, that they were alive. Logically, she knew it was just a nightmare, but  couldn’t stay in this room any longer. She fled from the room like it was on fire, bare feet stumbling against the carpet, arms shoving the door open in front of her. 

Two familiar scents and heartbeats in Azriel’s room. Relief flooded through her. It would be too much to barge into there, but at least she knew they were alive now. She retreated down the hall, instead bracing her arms on a window sill, taking in the full moon casting light over Velaris. 

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she heard the door open, two pairs of almost silent footsteps approaching behind her. In the reflection, their eyes met. Both of them looked vaguely concerned. 

“Just … needed to check you’re alright,” she offered an explanation. Not that she needed to, but it’s better than letting their imaginations run wild. 

“Nightmare?” Cassian’s voice was soft and gentle. She hated his tone, hated that it comforted her. Words didn’t want to work, so she nodded. 

Azriel didn’t speak, but held a hand out to her. Slowly, she turned back around, pinching her arm to make sure this was real. His eyes tracked her movement, flashing slightly in recognition but his body remained still and she placed her hand in his, his warm and calloused hand closing over hers. 

Heart pounding and threatening to burst out of her chest, her rapid breaths warmed the air before her as they crossed the threshold. He pulled her towards his bed, pulling the covers back and gently pushing between her shoulder blades. Cassian climbed in on the other side. Said male wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her into his chest. Azriel’s body fell into place behind hers, as if this was the most natural position for the three of them. She felt a tug, a thread like current weaving between the three of them, and shoved deep, deep down. Like fate was trying to weave the three of them together, to mend and straighten something warped and misaligned by time and stupid decisions. An ache spreading through her chest, mind working overtime to try and figure out what the hell that meant. 

“Relax, princess,” Cassian cut off her spiral, his large hand cupping the back of her head, guiding her to rest right where she could hear his heartbeat. Normally, the nickname was teasing - designed to get a reaction out of her, but now it felt gentle, a term of endearment.  

A sense of calm overtook her, and her heart quit trying to explode, slowing to match his. Azriel ran soothing circles with his thumb, right above her hip bone. Her eyes shuttered closed and she fell asleep between the two warm bodies. 

-

It had been a split second decision, and as Azriel watched them sleep, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Sleep was almost foreign to him, but watching them sleep peacefully, feeling her soft body pressed against his, was almost enough. Maybe he should feel jealous of how she melted into Cassian with a few words, her taut and tense body unwinding, but content filled that space instead. 

They heard her stumbling down the hall. She hadn’t left the room for nightmares since … before. The footsteps paused for a moment before his door, before retreating. That’s when he knew it had been about them, whatever had happened in her sleep. They didn’t need to communicate with each other before leaving the room to track her down. 

His only intention was to check on her, just to see she’s alright. Still, even as her hand reached out for him he meant to bring her back to her room, to close the door and leave, but as soon as her skin met his, he headed in the opposite direction. 

Cassian hadn’t questioned him, hadn’t acted as if anything was out of the ordinary. The threads winding them together practically took on a life of its own as it sang with joy at having her this close, at having her safe between them. Where she belongs. He cleared the thought from his mind. Only if she wants to be there. Did she feel it too?

He wasn’t naive enough to think the nightmares would disappear because of their presence, and sure enough her body stiffened. Cass noticed and his sleepy eyes blinked open, meeting him with concern, almost asking; do we wake her? 

I don’t know, he replied honestly. 

Small whimpers left her. Not the sweet kind of her reacting to their touch, whimpers of pain. Cassian’s hand reached out, running his thumb back and forth over her cheek. Like he was some kind of instant drug, her body relaxed again. 

Do we wake her? He looked at him again. Azriel shook his head, and laid down on the pillow, this time tugging an arm around her waist and bringing her closer to him. 

Cassian’s mouth curved at the corner in amusement, but he ignored him and placed a kiss to her hair, taking pleasure in how she snuggled further into the pillows, one hand covering his own - holding it there. 

-

She woke to warm sheets that weren’t her own, her back pressed against a warm body, another caging her front in. Opening her eyes might end this dream, might ruin whatever moment this is. Her nails dug into her palm, a small hint of pain running through. Real, this was real. She wiggled, trying to dislodge the arm slung tightly over her stomach. 

“Stop,” Azriel’s said, his voice hoarse and sleepy. If that’s how he sounds in the morning, maybe she should try to sneak in here more often. But, she didn’t listen, and shifted her hips again. Something hard brushed against her backside. Fuck. The arm tightened around her, one leg crossing to pin hers in place. 

“I said, stop.” 

This time, she listened. Warm breath brushed against her neck, a sigh of relief. 

Warm rays of sun peeked through the curtains, casting a glow on the bed. They rarely slept past sunrise. Actually, they never did, as far as she knew. 

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” she murmured quietly, not wanting to wake Cassian. 

“I didn’t want to leave.” 

“Don’t you have work to do?” Her pulse fluttered. 

“Are you trying to kick me out of my own room?” 

She shook her head rapidly, and he let out a low chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “How long have you been awake?” 

“Long enough to hear you snore.”

“I do not.” 

“You do,” Cassian’s sleepy voice said this time. 

“Rude.” 

Azriel’s leg released hers, his arm loosening enough to give her some room to make space between them. Reluctantly, she did so. Her eyes trailed to the clock. One hour until she needed to be at the library. 

Limbs heavy, she sat up, pushing the sheets down to climb out of the bed. Cassian’s hand reached towards hers, before stopping, falling back to his side. 

“Thank you,” she said, voice just above a whisper, and climbed off, pausing at the doorway, messy hair flipping over her shoulder. They looked at her, some expression she couldn’t read, and left. Neither followed her or said a word, she wished they would. Maybe she’s relying too much on them to make any kind of move. Still, it’s normal for friends to cuddle … right? 

Ever since she’d fallen … ill, they’d changed. They acted almost like they had before, with an extra tension, and it was giving her whiplash. Nothing had been cleared, despite the ‘olive branch’ they’d offered, there wasn’t any discussion of the past. Instead, it seemed like they were avoiding the topic at all costs, despite her hinting towards it. Their temporary peace couldn’t last forever, nothing good did. 

Since that night she ran into the hall, she hadn’t sought them out again. Mainly from fear they would reject her. Turn their backs on her. She wondered if they wished she would. Maybe she could test that theory, if she finally grew the courage to do so. 

As always, they found a way to piss her off. Acting  like they had a right to her, going as far as to scowl at any males that tried to approach her on their nights out. Any time she went out with her sister, they found reasons to be there, and she got into with Cassian one morning. 

“We’re not together, quit acting like it.” 

Hurt flashed through his eyes, gone as quick as it came. “Fine,” he’d replied, and left like a fire was lit under his ass. 

She found herself regretting the words, but she felt an inexplicable need to build a wall between them. That she was getting too close to them. Making it too easy for them to rip her heart out again. She tugged down the top of her shirt, fingers grazing over the tattoo on her collarbone. They hadn’t released her from the bargain, although they easily could’ve. Was it from care? Or for something to hold over her head? 

-

She watched in slow motion as a female pressed up on her toes, and planted a kiss right on Cassian’s mouth, her hands balancing on his shoulders. 

“Push her away,” she pleaded to the universe. Instead, his eyes stayed open, finding hers as he wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her closer to him. She’d brought it upon herself, she supposed. “We’re not together, quit acting like it.” 

If he wanted to play that game, she could too, and a fire lit under her. 

His eyes flashed; your move, he seemed to say. 

Watch me. She answered.

“Can you help me out with something?” She whispered to a female friend of hers.

Her eyes lit up, “I’m all ears.”

-

As soon as y/n had turned away, he gently turned down the female who’d kissed him, and felt a bit guilty as she scoffed and stormed away. Not guilty enough to do anything about it. His entire body had recoiled against it, screaming to him that it’s wrong. 

But, she’s the one who clearly stated they’re not together. 

He grabbed his drink, tilting his head back to let the liquid burn down his throat. 

“It’s good to see her getting out there,” Rhys commented wryly. Cassian snapped his head to him. 

“What?” 

“Y/n,” he said too innocently.

He turned slowly and watched as she danced with a female friend of hers, hips slowly grinding against each other, arms twining around each other's necks. Then, their lips met. He didn’t think she’d actually take his subtle challenge. 

Rhys clapped a hand on his shoulder. Cassian couldn’t force himself to move, if she wanted her fun - she could have it. He could play this game, even as it tore into him. 

Apparently, Azriel couldn’t. The shadowsinger intercepted the two of them,  tugging her away from the other female's embrace. Right, he hadn’t found the time to inform him of their … discussion, this morning.

A smirk crossed her friend's face. She’d done this on purpose, he already suspected, but now he had his confirmation.  

Small fists beat against Azriel’s back as he stormed out, y/n thrown over his shoulder, her friend laughing in the background. 

“Why are you waiting?” 

He scowled at Rhys’s voice in his mind, but slid a gold mark on the counter, more than covering his tab, before following them out the door. Cassian had a strong feeling Rhys knew of the bond, even if he kept his mouth shut. 

Azriel had paused in front of the building, waiting for him. As he approached, y/n was still spewing curses at him, her face slowly turning red. One of Azriel’s arms was wrapped securely around her thighs, holding her in place. There’s no way for her to escape his hold, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t trying. There’s a small shield around his wings, keeping her from using that to her advantage. 

Azriel shot him a look, and he picked up his pace. 

“Quit it,” he muttered to the female, his hand lightly slapped her ass. The surprise was enough to still her for a moment, letting Azriel snatch his arm and winnow the three of them to the townhouse. 

-

Azriel finally let her down, and she glanced around them, noticing he’d taken them directly to his room.

“What the fuck was that?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he countered too mildly. 

Oh, he was pissed. She shot a look at Cassian, she’d expected he would relay their conversation, but maybe she shouldn’t have counted on him for that. Azriel followed her gaze. 

“And you, apparently,” the next statement was directed at Cassian. The other male looked completely unapologetic, crossing his arms and shrugging his shoulders.  

“She made it crystal clear we’re not together.” 

“Really?” Azriel tilted his head, fixing that searing gaze back on her as he closed the gap between them.

Against her will, her heart raced as he gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

“We’ve never been together,” she managed to say. “You don’t have a claim to me.” 

His mouth indented at the corner, but it wasn’t a smirk of amusement - more like barely concealed irritation and anger. “That’s where you’re wrong.” 

“Excuse me?” She tried to wrangle her chin from his grasp, but he only tightened his grip. Instead, she looked to Cassian. A slight shake of his head, and she redirected her attention to Az.

“I won’t repeat myself.” 

“Then explain.” 

“If you can’t figure it out yourself, I can’t help you.” His hand dropped, and she missed the touch on her skin. 

-

“How do you expect me to understand if you don’t tell me?” Y/n exploded, fists clenching at her side. He knew he shouldn’t have dragged her out of there, but he couldn’t stand to watch her there, in another's arms. Holding her how he should be. 

Still, Azriel had waited so patiently for her to figure it out herself, he could wait a little longer. Apparently Cassian couldn’t. 

“You’re our mate.” 

The temperature in the room plummeted. Not literally, but shivers ran down her spine, goosebumps covering her arms. Her eyes darted rapidly between the two of them, forming some kind of conclusion. 

He counted each second. Forty-seven, before she spoke. Less than a minute. 

“Do you expect me to forget everything? To fall to my knees for you now?” She spit

He pressed his lips into a tight line, and prayed Cassian wouldn’t rise to the bait. He needs to stop praying and hoping where that male is concerned. 

“I’d never turn down a chance to see you on your knees, princess.” 

Azriel groaned. 

“You’ll never see it.” 

“Want to bet-” he caught the look Azriel pinned him with, and shut his mouth mid sentence. Y/n looked too pleased at the turn of events, but he couldn’t take that away from her now - not without making a bigger mess to clean up. She stormed from the room, letting the door slam shut behind her. 

Fuck patience, fuck letting fate run it’s course, the truth is in the air now. He’s sick of waiting. 

Azriel flung the door open, taking off after her, Cassian on his heels. 

She tried to slam the door to her room on them, and he wedged his foot in between, forcing it wide open.  

“Leave me alone,” she snarled. 

“So you can block us out?” Cassian countered, shouldering past him to cross the threshold. 

“You deserve it,” his heart thumped in his chest as she switched her gaze to him. “You both do.” 

“What the hell did we do?” Cassian took another step towards her, forcing her to back up. 

-

“I thought you were smarter than that,” she flung his words back in his face. She saw the hurt cross his face, looking vaguely like a kicked puppy. A small sliver of guilt filled her, but a vindictive anger overtook that - good, she wanted him to feel how they made her feel. Even if it was cruel, karma deserved to be thrown back in their faces. The bond may have snapped in her at that moment, but it took less than a minute for her to come to a conclusion. Like hell she’d lay down and make it easy for them, or for herself. It means nothing if she doesn’t accept it. That was a lie, she knew it, but if she repeated it enough to herself maybe she’d believe it. 

They shattered her before, and she had to build herself back together. The temporary peace they’d hovered in was never going to last. 

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[aemxnd]

defile me | aemond targaryen x fem!reader

You reluctantly sell yourself into the pleasure house on the same night Aemond reluctantly pays the brothel a visit.

WARNINGS: pleasure house activity, slight SA, fingering, oral (fem receiving), p in v, deflowering, slight mention of v bleeding, praise, degrading, soft sub!Aemond turns dom!Aemond quickly, breeding, cum play.

WORDS: 4.3k — I am SO sorry.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

My requests are open! 🖤

The pleasure house is no place for a virgin.

Your family’s farm struggled through a harsh winter and income was scarce, which led your father to somehow persuading you to place yourself in the brothel. “A few coins tossed by the noblemen of the land may go some way to help us get by,” he said, “and the chance of bearing an illegitimate child of a prince and potential heir to the Iron Throne would be priceless.”

The degradation. The humiliation. It would be unbearable. But the mere suggestion passing your father’s lips led you to believe that this was your purpose in life, that you could do no more to assist your family’s plight than to whore yourself to the gentry of the land. Your worth surmounted to becoming a bedslave to perverted men whose wives, bearers of their children, could no longer satisfy them.

You blindly cooperated with the plan to resolve your family’s financial crisis, refusing to acknowledge the depth of the depravity to which you would soon become accustomed, right up until the moment you found a quiet corner in the pleasure house to call your home, a peaceful nook where a pile of pillows laid while the other surfaces in the house were occupied. You placed yourself amongst the cushions, uncomfortably facing the wall while tugging at the hem of your significantly scanty attire, a drape of sheer linen designed to eccentuate your every curve not-so-well-hidden beneath, held together only by one ornate brooch positioned at your hip. Not last week, you would not have been seen dead in such scandalous dress, but financial needs must.

The low hum of seductive conversation and rising moans around the house began to drown out your thoughts within minutes of finding your space. Counting your blessings that no commotion had arrived into your safe haven, you clenched your eyes closed every chance you could find, willing every lecherous occupant to find a girl far more visually receptive to their advances than yourself.

“How about it then?” A deep, warbled voice boomed by your ear, accompanied by the sinking of the pillows you were perched upon as a man took his seat beside you. Prizing your eyes open, your gaze fell upon the outline of a greasy man leaning into you, engorged hands hovering over your thigh as if waiting to strike. Without a thought, you swung your leg from his reach and adjusted the scanty fabric over your knees in some warped grasp at decency.

“N-no, thank you,” you politely declined with a shaky voice, gesturing toward the buzz of activity across the room from you. “I am sure my fellow ladies will be gracious enough to assist you. Good morrow, ser.”

“Hah!” The man chortled heartily, clamping his hand down onto your thigh regardless. “Your job is to serve me, whore, you would do well to remember it.”

You placed your hand upon his in hopes to prize his fingers from digging into the soft flesh of your thigh, but his grip was too strong.

“Please, good ser, bid me leave,” you protested weakly, wriggling your leg in futile defence. “I… I’m not ready.”

“Not ready?!” He boomed his repetition, mocking your complaint so loud that a number of faces in the crowded room turned to face you. “You’re a whore, my girl, you have to be ready.”

Pitiful giggles spread around the room, hushed mutters of ‘frigid’ and ‘virgin’ reaching your ears just above the rising volume of your thundering heartbeat.

“Please, ser—.”

“That’s more like it,” he leered, grasping your leg tighter and sinking his nails into your skin while his free hand wandered to grapple with his breeches. “Say that again when you’re choking down on my cock.”

“No, please…”

“There’s no such word as ‘no’ in the whore house, little bitch,” he hissed, globules of spit firing from his lips as he salivated over his next move, palming at himself beneath his pants.

“The lady said no,” came another male voice behind you, softer and yet more assertive. “You would do well to listen, old man.”

“Who the fuck do you think you—,” the lewd man spat before craning to see the figure behind him. As soon as he registered the source of his interruption, he immediately released his vice-like grip on your thigh and grappled to his feet. “Y… yes, Prince Aemond.”

Gasps shook through the pleasure house as the pairs of eyes trained on your once-comfortable nook scrambled to find a distraction, scattering back to their own business and refusing to look back.

Taking a deep breath, you strained around to see your saviour only to find a pair of black leather boots nestled amongst the pillows. Tracing up the black-clad figure, the man who came to your rescue appeared to be tall, lithe and battle-weary, one of his eyes concealed by a mysterious leather patch which disappeared into his poker-straight blonde hair. The saviour stood defiant and unresponsive, his hands clasped studiously behind his back and a faint smirk cinching the corner of his lips as you looked up at him.

“Th… thank you, kind prince…” you stuttered, brows knitting at the thought of the words that were about to roll from your tongue.

“Aemond,” he interjected, folding his knees to bend to your level. “Call me Aemond.”

“To what do I owe such kindness, Aemond, ser?” You scrambled to cover yourself once more with the flimsy textile drape, grabbing a cushion to place in your lap for some semblance of presentability in the presence of royalty.

“You seem as reluctant to be here as I am,” he chuckled softly, resting both hands on his bended knee. “Were you forced to serve here, gevie?” Beautiful.

“By circumstance, ser,” you bowed your head. Admitting poverty in the face of royalty would surely abolish your remaining shred of dignity, as if your presence in the pleasure house had not already dispelled that notion.

“Me too,” Aemond sighed, nodding in agreement. “Although I imagine under quite different circumstances.”

You would not dare to question what he meant by that comment, but he seemed eager to appease your wordless curiosity.

“My brother Aegon is over there,” he pointed across the room to another platinum blonde-haired youthful figure, his tumbling curls framing his face as he seduced another bedslave. “He brought me here to ensure I bed as many women as possible to acquire experience enough to satisfy a future wife.”

Your vision wandered to meet his eye once more, that same kind glow exuding from his gaze back at you, blinking softly and recognising your fragility in the same manner as his own. He looked upon you as an equal, another human worthy of the same respect and honour afforded to himself by all that engage with him. His instant inviting nature only succeeded in intimidating you more, coming from a man so sublimely ethereal that you should never wish to reject him for anything even if he were not the prince of the realm. Your eyes lingered upon his lips, pursed in thought as he looked upon you.

“Thank you, ser,” you smiled warmly in return, willing yourself to find the courage to reach out and touch his hand in sympathy. “For your kind reassurance and your company when you have other business to attend to this night. Please do not allow me to keep you from your purpose here, kind ser.”

“Dear earthbound angel, I am quite certain you are my purpose here this night,” Aemond half-purred, drinking in your appearance as a man dying of thirst yet determined to remain composed in front of the bustling company in the pleasure house. His eye darted around the room to ensure all gazes had averted from you before unfolding his legs and perching on the cushions beside you. “Tell me, why waste your virtues on the rich yet ill-mannered of Westeros in here? You could well serve in the royal court and escape this hellhole.”

“I believe this place matches my worth, ser.” Your gaze dropped into your lap in shame but Aemond’s pale hand reached toward you, planting a tip of a finger beneath your chin and gently raising your countenance to meet his.

“Do not be ashamed, little dove,” Aemond soothed with a reassuringly authoritative tone, his eye wandering to your lips as he spoke. “Let me show you your worth.”

Aemond leaned into you slowly, giving you every chance to withdraw from his advances, but instead you met him halfway and pressed your lips against his. The contact was brief before he pulled back to gaze into your eyes once more, taking another opportunity to ensure you were comfortable with his motions. This time, you reached a hand to curl around the back of his neck and drew him in again, kissing him deeply. Aemond grunted softly into your kiss, wandering both arms to envelope your waist as you traced each other’s mouths.

The mysterious one-eyed prince pressed even closer to your lips as if starving for your touch, craving contact with you with every part of his body. Parting his lips ever so slightly, the tip of his tongue ventured out to beg for entry to your mouth, moaning into you as you granted it. His hold on your waist tightened, pulling you flush to his chest so close you may as well be seated in his lap.

Aemond embraced you as if you were the only two people in the room, completely oblivious to the stony silence in the room which was once filled with echoes of gratuitous moans, the lewd slapping of skin and raucous laughter, now only occupied by the sounds of your tongues lashing together.

Breaking contact to draw breath, you opened your eyes to find Aemond’s one eye completely blown with lust, glazed and hazy, looking upon you as if the rest of the world around you had shattered like a mirror and all that remained was you, Aemond and the plumped cushions beneath you. Your vision darted around the room to find every pair of eyes glaring at your display, fascinated by the sight of the one-eyed prince claiming his first conquest in the pleasure house. Aegon propped himself against a table with one hand on his hip, a smug grin tapering his lips as he watched his brother executing his plan perfectly.

“Aemond,” you called to attract his attention away from you. It took a few more moments before he finally tore himself away to look around the room, noticing his brother’s gaze and quickly clearing his throat. Hurrying to his feet, he extended a hand toward you to help you up from the cushions. His graceful, beautiful hand had clearly seen conflict judging by its scrapes and scars, but nonetheless gifted in its regal pale pallor. Quickly accepting his invitation, you lifted yourself up and looked to the one-eyed prince for guidance.

“Let’s get out of here, my Lady,” he muttered, stepping down from the cushion pile while clutching your hand to ensure your safe disembarkment.

“Aemond, I am not a la—.”

“If you will excuse us,” Aemond announced to the room, causing a tidal wave of searing heat to wash over your cheeks as he walked you through the crowds. With one hand still holding onto yours, another raised dismissively into mid-air to ensure the pleasure house returned to its usual function with haste. “Please, continue your festivities.”

———

The door to Aemond’s chambers slammed shut behind you so loudly, the sharp crack of wood snapped you back into the room. You froze upon the sight of his large bed before you, smooth silk sheets draped so beautifully, cascading over the edge of the mattress and draping to the floor. Such an elegant sight that would soon be destroyed.

“Aemond, you called me your lady,” you muttered under your breath, not daring to turn to face the man as he approached you from behind. “I am not worthy of such an address.”

Without warning, pale hands softly snaked around your waist and a chin rested gently upon your shoulder, planting butterfly kisses into your neck.

“You are a woman, are you not?” Aemond affirmed against your ear. “You have treated me with the honour, respect and grace of my position and I have returned the favour. You have not questioned me, you have not defied me, and you have certainly not wronged me. Therefore, I see you as nothing less than my Lady.”

Convinced Aemond would feel you blushing, you dipped your head into his touch as his careful breaths warmed your skin. Planting feather-light kisses atop your hair, the prince breathed in deeply, inhaling your presence in the safety of his chambers far away from the debauched prying eyes of the pleasure house.

“Do you trust me?” Aemond whispered into the shell of your ear. Suddenly, your gaze flicked back to the sight of his bed, swallowing thickly at the realisation of the inevitable next step of your evening with the One-Eyed Prince. Shaking your head to dispel your concerns, you placed your hands atop his as they rested on your stomach.

“Completely,” you sighed happily, melting into his touch as he peppered another kiss onto your hair.

“You have never laid with a man before?” His tone was soothing, devoid of judgement. You shook your head, encouraging Aemond to grip your hips and spin you around to face him where his reassuring smile greeted you once more. Cupping your face in both hands and gazing down at your lips, Aemond sighed contentedly.

“Then this will be a first for us both.”

Capturing you in a haunting kiss, you barely noticed Aemond carefully stepping you backwards until your calves met with the hard wood of his bed, tumbling into the depths of his sheets as he stood before you. Aemond drank in the sight amongst his once crisp bedlinen, squaring up to the only obstacle between him and your innocence — the flimsy translucent garment concealing your body from him.

“Gevie,” Aemond whispered in a tongue unfamiliar to your uneducated ear. Beautiful.

He reached to unclasp his belt and breeches without tearing his eyes away from you, swathes of leather and black linen pooling at his feet and buckles clanking against the flagstones as he stepped out of every layer that restricted him. You froze to the spot watching him, swallowing thickly in anticipation and want as he revealed more and more pale flesh.

“You like what you see, sweet girl?” He chuckled, a curt grin eking across the corner of his lips.

“I do, Prince Aemond,” you concurred, leaning up on your elbows to observe him closer. “Do you think me wicked?”

“I think you are the most beautiful sight a man’s earthbound eyes will ever see,” he cooed, planting his knees on the edge of the bed and crawling slowly over to you, leaning down to hover over you, his lips an inch from yours. He ventured a hand to your face, brushing your hair behind your ear. “However, there is one obstacle that stands in my way.”

His hand traced gently down your neck to your collarbone, guiding down through the valley of your breasts on its mission toward your hip, tantalising over the elegant brooch that so rudely prohibited him from your figure.

“Cursed thing,” he muttered lowly, fiddling with its clasp and casting the bronze accessory across the room, a distant clank assuring him he would not be further inhibited by its presence. With a low, hungry growl, Aemond swept aside the linen concealing you and exposed your curves beneath. The room’s cool air graced your skin and left goosebumps in its wake, leading you to inhale softly at the sensation. Aemond was now rooted to the spot, gazing at your frame nestled amongst his sheets for what felt like an eternity as you waited for his next move. The anticipation was unbearable, clasping your thighs together beneath him and squirming uncomfortably.

“Aemond,” you snapped him out of his lust-ridden stupor, beckoning his gaze back to meet yours. Dropping back against the sheets, you reached both hands through his blonde locks to cup his neck, drawing him in closer. “Please, fuck me already.”

“Well well,” a chuckle erupted in Aemond’s throat, smirking gleefully from ear to ear. “This is quite a transformation. What happened to my shy little virgin?”

“She has waited long enough,” you sighed, your fingertips impatiently traversing his back and tracing idle patterns across his bare skin and raising a gentle shiver in response.

“Then my Lady shall not be kept waiting,” he sighed, guiding his own fingertips across the traverse of your hipbone in retaliation, rejoicing in the soft buck of your hips in response. “I trust she will at least allow her prince to prepare her beforehand?”

Unclenching your legs to part beneath him, you spread yourself open wide and elicited an explicit groan from the depths of the one-eyed Prince’s throat.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured, trailing his forefinger to meet your mound, shivering under his touch. The very tip of his finger journeyed to trace the outline of your folds, ghosting ever so slightly over your moistened entrance yet still collecting the beads of anticipation on its way. “Tell me, who owns this pretty little cunt?”

Between strangled breaths, you mumbled his name. Displeased with your muted response, Aemond slipped two fingers through your folds, delving knuckle-deep within you.

“Speak up, little dove, let the whole castle hear you.”

“Y… yours, Aemond,” you spluttered, chest heaving and hips convulsing at his every movement. He curled his long fingers inside you, pressing against the ripples of your walls in gentle stroking motions.

“And what would you have me do with it?” He pressed, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you unravel beneath him.

“Pl… please,” you mewled helplessly as he added another finger into your depths, pumping fervently in staccato time with your racing heartbeat, now reaching his free hand to press down into the valley of your hips so he can feel his fingers inside you. The unusual sensation sent your head sinking into the pillow, hands fisting into the sheets and pleading for your climax to release you from the tension within. “Please fuck me, Aemond.”

His fingers pummelled at a breakneck pace inside you, driving you careering toward the precipice before a telltale strangled gasp signalled your oncoming orgasm to your one-eyed tormentor, who withdrew his dripping fingers and left you clenching around nothing. Bucking your hips like a wild animal and fighting against his grip to squeeze your thighs together, you cried out in despair at Aemond’s sudden betrayal.

He watched you struggle for a few moments, glee spread across his thin lips until they suddenly plunged down to meet your clit, his tongue racing in fervent circles around your bundle of nerves and journeying south to delve into your folds. Lapping at your soaking cunt like a man possessed, Aemond’s low moans vibrated through your core as he curled his tongue inside you just the same as his fingers, which now found themselves digging crescent dips into the flesh of your thighs to spread them wide before him.

“Aemond, please… m—more,” you wailed weakly, throwing your head back into the pillow and jerking your hips into his face, craving more friction to help you tumble over the cliff-face this time.

“Needy girl,” he muttered against your folds sending tremors throughout you, splaying his tongue out over your entrance to venture a clean stripe with each breath. “My virgin knows exactly what she wants before she’s even tried it.”

Cooperating gladly, he unlatched from your sodden core and swooped up to capture you in a deep kiss, one hand venturing to line his leaking tip with your entrance.

“Are you ready to take me, my Lady?” Aemond enquired, a considerate tone in his voice suggesting he knew a woman’s first coupling is laced with a degree of pain. The breaking of your maidenhead would cause discomfort, that much was certain, but the sheer ecstasy of laying with such a caring man, least of all a prince of the realm, dispelled a vast amount of your trepidation in the process.

“Defile me, Aemond,” you nodded, pleading, begging for contact.

“Your wish is my command, your Grace,” he smiled, dragging his tip over your folds and dipping in slowly. Your harsh intake of breath met the sound of his teeth-baring hiss as he gently sheathed himself fully within you in one thrust, resting balls deep inside you before searching your face for a response.

You mewled softly, which was response enough for your prince.

“You’re doing so well for me, my good girl,” he praised effortlessly, his one eye roving into his skull as the sensation of your walls enveloping his cock finally satisfied his craving. “You’re taking my cock so well. Does it hurt so, or are you ready for me to move?”

You nodded in approval, riding out the uncomfortable stretch within you by rutting up into him, easing his next thrust before he even reared his hips back.

“Aemond, more… please,” you stuttered between laboured breaths, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to draw him in closer. “Faster, please. Oh gods, fuck!”

“This cannot be the same innocent virgin I saved earlier.” Aemond chuckled under his breath, obeying your command and gazing down to watch his length accumulating a small splatter of virginal blood before plunging deeper, drawing out further and slamming back into your depths so deep you swore you could feel him in your guts. “I thank the Seven for granting me the good fortune to be your first…”

One particularly devastating thrust summoned stars in your peripheral vision, glazing over your view of the blonde gyrating above you.

“And your only.”

Another earth-shattering piston of his hips made you yell out in ecstasy, scratching your nails down his back before peppering chaste kisses into his breastbone in an attempt to silence your screams.

Aemond noticed.

“Never,” he punctuated with another gut-wrenching thrust. “Ever, let me catch you holding back again. Use your voice, little dove, scream the castle down if needs must. I will not rest until Castle Black hears me fucking you unconscious.”

Your fucked-out gaze up at the graceful blonde pummelling his cock into your womb set Aemond’s every vein alight, a searing heat coursing through his body that he was sure he would not allow to escape his clutches after this night. He needed to ensure you would return to his chambers every night in the same manner, receiving the same mind-altering fucking each night for the rest of your life.

Aemond needed more than to claim you for the moment. He needed a guarantee.

“Bear my child,” Aemond spoke in an inquisitive tone, asking rather than stating. Laying a flat palm into the valley of your hips and revelling in the sensation of his cockhead brushing against his palm as he thrusted deep inside you, the way he returned your gaze with his own wanton, desperately lust-blown expression suggested this was a plea.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you repeated between gasps and staccato breaths as his relentless pace denied you the oxygen to form full sentences. Hooking your feet behind his hips and clasping around him as tightly as possible, you hummed lowly into his ear: “Breed me, Prince Aemond.”

The mere passing of such filthy words from your lips sent you slipping over the precipice of your orgasm at last, flooding around his cock and gushing out from your folds, soaking his once crisp sheets beneath you.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he purred under his breath, head bowed into your neck as his rhythmic thrusts faltered in turn. “Suck my cock dry just like that, take everything I give to you.”

A gratuitous moan betrayed his own climax as he spilled his seed within you, deftly painting your walls and retaining his thrusts to ensure his cum would not escape your quaking cunt. Both refusing to relent your pace as if wishing you could rut together forever, you slowed your bucking hips and stilled beneath him while he pulled out from your folds and quickly ventured two fingers to push his seed back inside you.

Aemond leaned back to kneel between your legs for what felt like an eternity, gazing at your body slick with beads of glistening sweat and shaking gently in his wake.

“Gevie riña,” he hummed to himself as he drank in the sight before him. “Gevie fucking riña.”

As much as the sight of the one-eyed prince worshipping every inch of your figure made your heart soar, something suddenly dawned on you.

“Aemond,” you enquired, a note of nervous anticipation in your voice. “All evening, you have called me your Lady. In the throes of passion, you called me your Grace.”

“Rest assured, little dove, I meant every word,” he confirmed without tearing his gaze from your swollen core, red raw and pulsing from the manner in which he so monumentally deflowered you, moulding you to his design, ensuring no other could take his place inside your body forevermore.

“But I am not worthy of such addresses,” you affirmed, grappling to cover yourself with the sheer linen he tore from your frame, eyes darting around the room for any glint of the fundamental brooch you required to dress yourself to leave. “I must return to the pleasure house at once.”

“No!” He snapped, throwing himself forward on his knees to stop you. “You shall never return to that brothel, nor any other for that matter.”

“But… why?”

“Because, little dove, you will soon be addressed by the whole of Westeros in the same manner as I,” he sighed contentedly. “As soon as I make you my princess, people across the length and breadth of our country will dub you their Grace.”

You quirked an eyebrow at his sudden revelation, which seemed altogether not so sudden as if he had thought his grand plan through as thoroughly as he had just fucked you senseless.

“I see, and when will you be making a princess out of me, Prince Aemond?”

The blonde one-eyed prince leaned forward on his knees, crawling to hover his lips over yours once more.

“Tomorrow. At sunrise.”

[judeswhore]

quiet for me; steve harrington

summary: you find yourself locked in the bathroom of family video with steve’s hand clamped over your mouth as you try your hardest not to get caught.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

requested: no

warnings: smut, 18+, fingering, oral (m) receiving, unprotected sex

notes: feedback is appreciated! you can find my masterlist here.

it was risky. god it was so risky, family video was still flowing with customers and both robin and keith were in and out of the back room, passing so close to the bathroom they were certain to be able to hear your quiet breaths. but, as always, steve couldn’t help himself. couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering along your legs from the second you walked through the doors after the end of your own shift, images of having those exact legs wrapped around his waist last night having his cock twitching in his trousers immediately. even in your ridiculous waitress outfit you still looked hot, your lips plump and glossy, cheeks frost bitten from the biting wind outside and he knew he wouldn’t be able to survive the rest of his shift without something from you.

which is exactly how his thirty minute break in which he’d usually drive you home had turned into fucking you in the bathroom at family video, trying his hardest to keep you both quiet. the bathroom was small, thankfully clean, and steve had you pressed up against the wall, your underwear stuffed in the back pocket of his trousers as he worked a line of hot kisses over your jaw. you could hear customers, robin’s so obviously false laugh and keith’s monotone voice but they sounded warped, muffled and distorted from the pleasure already trickling like honey down your spine when steve’s fingers found your clit.

you gave a quiet moan into his mouth and dug your nails into the skin on his bicep, hips pressing forward as though begging him for more. you were already dripping, turned on and overly frustrated simply just from steve's addictive kisses. he'd had you pressed up against the wall for what seemed like hours, his fingers fumbling beneath your shirt, lips alternating between your mouth and paying attention to which spots on your neck would bring out those whimpery sighs he adored so much. he'd pressed scorching open mouthed kissed over your throat, fingers of one hand wrapped in your hair to keep your head tilted back so he could nip lightly at your skin.

his fingers started off slow, the very tips of them brushing barely there circles against your clit, feather light and driving you insane. steve knew your body and it’s reactions like the back of his hand, he knew just what to do to have you crying out his name and coming within minutes. he kept his lips against yours, swallowing your sighs and moans while pressing against your clit just that little bit harder. his other hand tightened in your hair, his chest heaving slightly as he nipped at your bottom lip, well aware that his cock was leaking in his underwear and knowing there was no way he was gonna last anywhere near as long as he wanted once he finally slid into you.

your hips bucked against his hand, back arching off the wall when steve’s attention left your clit and you felt the tips of his fingers tease your entrance. he was slow in sliding two of his fingers in, taunting you with a smirk as you met his gaze, expression one of pleasure and need. your eyes were already dark and glassy, so fucked out that steve couldn’t stop his light chuckle. his fingers slid knuckle deep into you and your gasp bounced off the walls.

“look at you, already wrecked and i’ve barely touched you.” you whined in response, still gripping his bicep with one hand, the other tangling in his hair so you could tug just the way he liked. his eyes stayed locked on yours, his fingers starting up a slow rhythm, pulling out and pushing back in, curling upwards to find that one spot before drawing back out. the palm of his hand glided easily over your clit and with a moan of his name you let your hips grind against it, eager for a release. “gonna let me fuck you? hmm? want me to ruin your pretty little pussy until everyone knows what i’m doing to you?”

“steve, oh god.” your legs almost buckled beneath you at his words and the way his fingers found that pillowy spot inside of you, your mind turning to fog as your pussy clenched around his fingers. feeling you tighten around him, squeezing his fingers so good until he thought your orgasm had actually crept up on you, steve gave his own low moan. you could hear the wet filthy sounds of his fingers, could feel where you’d dripped down your thighs and you couldn’t stop the string of profanities that fell from your lips. his thumb found your clit again and he went back to his slow taunting circles as your building orgasm trickled away, his fingers still pumping in and out at a ridiculously painful pace, far too slow for your liking.

“if i fuck you i’m gonna need you to be quiet for me, okay? can’t have keith finding you stuffed with my cock now can we?” you only whimpered, shaking your head as you tried once again to buck your hips against the palm of his hand, your clit still throbbing and demanding attention. steve wasn’t satisfied with your non verbal answer and he pinched your clit between his thumb and pointer finger to get your attention. “words, sweetheart.”

“no,” you shook your head again, releasing a shuddery breath when steve pulled his fingers from you, holding back the whine at the empty feeling it left behind. “i can be quiet.” he grinned at you, already starting to unbuckle his belt.

“good girl.” you let your eyes drop to where he was fumbling to get rid of his trousers, pushing them down just passed his ass, only enough for his cock to spring out. he was painfully hard, tip coated with pre cum and he gave a satisfied him when you dragged your thumb over the slit. his hands found your thighs and he was quick to hoist you up against the wall, your legs locking around his waist, one hand still buried in his hair, the other reaching up to wrap around the pipe running along the wall for some sort of stability.

steve suddenly gave a light laugh, that domineering cloud shifting ever so slightly from over his head as he pressed a messy kiss to your lips, tongue gliding against your own. “god i really fucking hope we don’t get caught.”

“i could get you a job at the diner if you get fired.” you let out your own giggle, one that quickly fell into a moan when steve pushed his hips forward and the tip of his cock bumped your clit.

“yeah? not sure i could pull that skirt off the way you do. i haven’t got the legs for it.” you gave another breathless laugh, pressing your lips over his jaw, your kisses messy and uncoordinated as you tried to reach every bit of skin you could.

“you’re an idiot, steve harrington.”

“yeah, yeah.” his words tapered off, one hand leaving your thigh so he could grip his cock. you both watched with held breaths as he teased it through your folds, slicking it with your wetness so he could slip into your easier. but he was teasing, taking longer than he needed to, riling you up with quick bumps to your clit that had you jolting, your pussy growing wetter with each drawn out movement until you were certain you were making a mess.

“steve.” it was a whine, paired with a quick pull on his hair, your eyes meeting his as he looked back up at you. his cheeks were flushed, skin sweaty, eyes so dark you couldn’t really make out the pupils and you knew in that moment that the second you left the bathroom, steve’s expression alone would give you away.

“shh, i know.” he gave a light peck to your lips and in one thrust buried himself completely inside of you, his head falling to your shoulder so he could muffle his groan. his fingers tightened on your thigh, most definitely leaving bruises and he gave a shaky breath when he felt you clench around him. you were so warm and wet and it didn’t matter how many times he fucked you he would never get used to how tight you were. sometimes he joked that you were made just to fit him but when he was bottomed out inside you and could feel every inch of your soft walls wrapped around him he really believed it. “fuckin’ hell, baby.”

his words came out as a half throaty laugh, half groan and you just nodded, breathless and slightly dizzy with the feeling of him seated so deep inside of you. the pleasurable stretch had rendered you speechless and so the only thing you did was run your fingers through his hair, letting your other hand fall to grip his shoulder. the angle had the bottom of his shirt brushing against your clit and you gave a pathetic whimper when he finally shifted his hips, pleasure curling in your stomach.

he’d already pushed you almost right to the brink of your orgasm just with his fingers so you knew you wouldn’t last long, your head tipping back to hit the wall when he pulled almost completely out of you before pushing back in. his pace started off slow, just a lazy drag of his hips, pulling half out before filling you back up again and you could feel every inch of him stretching your walls, each careful thrust making you clamp down around him. the slick sounds of him entering you and your soft moans bounced around the bathroom, almost echoing off the tiles and your body turned hot with embarrassment at how dirty it all sounded.

you were used to having sex with steve in his house or yours, sometimes if you were both feeling extra needy, he’d fuck you in the back of his car but you’d never had sex in somewhere so public before. the store was still busy and the thought that there were people just on the opposite side of the wall filled you with nerves at potentially being heard but you couldn’t deny that there was a certain thrill to it. you knew you could get caught any minute, someone could come knocking to use the bathroom, and for some reason that sent an extra hazy flood of pleasure to your head, steve grunting when he felt you get impossibly wetter.

his thrusts were getting faster and harder, the sound of his skin slapping against yours no doubt one hundred percent recognisable outside and on a particularly harsh pump of his hips you gave a high pitched moan. your body had jolted up the wall, steve’s hand coming down to cover your mouth as his thrusts continued that punishing pace, cock slamming into your repeatedly as your orgasm licked up your skin.

“i thought you said you could be quiet.” steve’s cock was hitting all the right places, stretching you and filling you up so good and his shirt brushing over your clit was making your head spin. he knew you were close, you couldn’t stop clenching around him and your desperate whines and moans where getting louder despite being muffled by his hand. you kept pulling at his hair, another sign you were almost there and he turned his head to press his lips against the side of your face, brushing the lightly over your ear. “be a good girl and cum for me.”

you didn’t need to be told again, the knot in your stomach released and you came around his cock with a cry, head dropping back again as you clung to him. pleasure rippled through you, your walls fluttering around steve until his own hips began to falter, his thrusts growing sloppy and without rhythm. your thighs shook around his waist, nails digging harshly into his shoulder and the back of his neck as he fucked you through it, the quick push and pull of his cock prolonging the aftershocks of your orgasm until your chest stopped heaving and you loosened your grip around him.

he let his hand fall from your mouth and pressed it instead beside your head for leverage, his lips settling over yours in a soft kiss. he was fucking you slowly, each snap of his hips hard however, hitting so deep your body slid up the wall. your fingers were soft in his hair and you were breathless, voice scratchy when you spoke.

“cum in my mouth.” steve, too caught up in his pleasure, his orgasm teetering just out of reach, barely heard you, only hummed lightly in response and buried his cock just that little bit deeper on his next thrust. “steve,” you tugged his hair, bringing his blown out gaze down to yours. “want you to cum in my mouth.” he made a noise low in the back of his throat and then nodded, pulling out of you with a gentle groan before setting your feet back on the floor, his head dropping to watch you fall to your knees.

“fuckin’ hell.” despite wanting to watch you, his head fell back the second your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, one hand sliding into your hair, the other still pressed to the wall. you knew he was close and it wouldn’t take long for him to cum but you still teased him, dragging your tongue along the vein running down the length of him, settling your palms against his thighs before you took him entirely down your throat. steve’s hips bucked, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat while you held back your gag, the feeling of your tongue and lips around him making his head spin.

he was moaning within seconds, holding the back of your head to control your movements, finally letting his eyes fall to you. you glanced up at him through your lashes, breathing heavily through your nose as he held his cock completely down your throat. he grunted when you attempted to swallow around him, drawing his hips back to let you take a breath. wanting nothing more than for him to cum however you took him straight back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head before letting it glide along him, bobbing your head until you felt him twitch.

“god you look so fucking pretty like that. always look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” the praise made you hum in satisfaction, the vibrations rocketing up steve’s spine and then he was coming. he held your head in place, fingers tangled in your hair and watched you take every single drop he had to offer before he was pulling out, completely spent and suddenly extra sensitive. a drop of his cum was dripping down your chin and he watched with parted lips as you swiped it with your tongue, sucking it back into your mouth with a light moan.

you leant forward and pressed a kiss to his thigh, lips lingering for a few seconds before you started to stand, steve’s hands reaching for yours to pull you up and into his chest. you were clearly warn out, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin but you still made his heart pound as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, gently tucking your hair behind your ear.

“well that was-” your words were cut off by a bang to the bathroom door, the flimsy lock rattling as steve startled, hands fumbling to tuck his cock away and pull his trousers back up.

“you two are disgusting!” robin’s voice slid through the door, high and teasing and steve’s cheeks immediately turned pink, his startled eyes darting to yours. you were both silent, watching each other like two deer caught in headlights, still sporting that post orgasm glow. you were the first to laugh, falling forward to tuck your face away in his chest, embarrassment crawling up your spine now that your immediate pleasure was gone.

“there’s no way we’re doing that again.”

[somekindofpoet]

La Petite Mort

Summary: Reader finds out Lorraine has just been bearing through intimacy with RJ, and takes it upon herself to educate her on how it should be done

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, smut, language 

A/N: Anon who requested this, whoever you are, forehead kiss you little horny angel. This was a real pleasure to write. If you don't read this in Lorraine's adorable accent, I will come for you.

LPM - La Drague (Part II) LPM - C'est Comme Ça (Part III)

LPM -T'en Va Pas (Part IV) LPM - Vouloir, C'est Pouvoir(Part V)

LPM - La Fin (Part VI)

Texas summers were nearly unbearable. The humidity rolled off the gulf coast and simmered in the blazing sun, soaking through your clothes and ensuring your sweat never evaporated. The problem with the weather in East Texas was that it forced you to suffer the ocean air, even with the warm dark waters hours away. You did your damnedest not to think about it while throwing bales of hay into the back of the ranch truck.

You had big dreams of moving out of state and going to a University in a place that was green and cool, but your reality was much more difficult to bear. The first strike against you was that you came from humble roots, your family mostly working for wealthy ranchers in the countryside. Your second and most egregious strike was being a woman. Sure, it was 1980, and girls went to college, but only the exceptional were accepted in the major universities on the East and West coasts. You were painfully average in IQ, and while you were lean and strong from a lifetime of working at ranches, women’s sports weren’t exactly the top priority of the country. 

You’d settled for now, saving up your money and sweating away as a ranch hand until you had enough in your pocket to make your escape. Your palms were beginning to burn, the bale ropes cutting into your callouses as you had foregone gloves for the sake of trying to keep cool. With the truck bed piled high, you slam the tailgate shut and walk around to the driver's side, wiping your forehead with your wrist. You climb in and start the old Chevy, ready to get it rolling back to the cool shade of the barn. You put the truck in drive, imagining it was your luggage in the back and the open road in front of you. You glance at the passenger seat and smile, the image of a girl sitting there painting itself in your head. 

The girl always started out as something innocent, but the image of her inevitably warped in your mind from a shadowy stranger into one you knew well. Tanned caramel skin, dark chestnut hair blowing in the wind, and a spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. You sigh and shake your head, trying to etch-a-sketch the vivid picture from behind your eyes. As the truck rolls around the dirt road, the very figure of your imagination pulls into view.

Lorraine Day, the rancher's daughter and your friend, was sitting leaning up against the shady side of the barn, her nose in a book. You grip the steering wheel a little harder, trying to cool yourself. Lorraine was all sweet southern charm, innocent doe eyes, and small half smiles. She also happened to be the most beautiful girl you had ever seen, and your friendship with her was a daily challenge. You’d thought it would get easier after she started dating RJ, but in reality, it got worse. She was so far out of his league it was laughable, but she had fallen for his goofy charm and enthusiasm for film. You thought he was far too pretentious and self-righteous, a point you’d made to her often. 

You back the truck up to the barn door and park it, sliding out into the sun. Lorraine closes her book and looks up at you, a smile pulling at her lips. You were such a sucker for that smile. You drop the tailgate open and slide the closest bale to the end, turning your head over your shoulder to return the smile.

“Mornin, Lorraine.” You say, dipping your head at her in greeting.

“Good mornin y/n, you’re gettin started awfully early today.”

You pull the bale down, holding it by the two ropes that bound it, and nod your head, “Can’t be workin in this weather in a few hours. Figured I’d get the heavy liftin done early.”

She hums in agreement and leans back against the barn, watching you haul the bales down off the truck and walk them inside. When you come out for the next bale, she gets up and strolls over to you. She hops up and sits on the side of the tailgate, swinging her legs.

“Hey, when you’re done, you wanna go grab some ice cream in town? Daddy took the truck to the livestock auction today, so I’m stuck here.” She drawls, plucking strands of hay from the bale beside her.

You smirk and pull another bale off the truck, grunting with the effort. “You gonna help me haul these bales, or just sit there lookin all pretty like, asking me for favors?”

Her eyebrows go up, and she laughs, the sound like music to your ears. “You know full well I can’t help you move these things. And it’s not a favor, it’s an invitation.”

You walk back from the barn to the truck bed, shaking your head, chuckling. Only three bales left to move and you’re done for the morning.

“An invitation to take my truck and spend my money on ice cream for you?” You jab playfully at her, enjoying yourself. 

You walk the next bale into the shade of the barn and throw it down next to the stall, turning back for the last two. The sun is beaming down on Lorraine, her hair shining in the light and her dark eyes glittering. You puff your cheeks up with air and let it out all at once, shaking your head.

She’s working you, widening her eyes and blinking slowly, “Come on y/n, it’ll be quick. Promise.”

You pull the last two bales off the truck and laugh. You’re such a sucker. 

“Yeah alright, get in the truck.” 

The drive to town is a quick fifteen minutes, all back country roads and open fields in between. The windows are rolled down, the wind softly licking at your sweaty neck and whipping your hair into your eyes. You glance over to the passenger seat, your fantasy from earlier coming true in a small way. Lorraine has one arm on the window, her head slightly tilted out, letting the rushing air pull her hair out of her face. 

The ice cream shop is nearly empty, most folks deeming 10 AM too early for something so sweet. You buy a strawberry cone for Lorraine and a lemon for yourself. You take them to your truck to eat on the drive back to the ranch. You can’t help but notice the pink liquid dripping down the cone onto her fingers as it melts, and you question if you should have asked for strawberry instead of lemon. It would probably taste better on her skin, though.

You toss what’s left of your cone out the window, the lemon seeming bitter now that you had imagined the syrupy, pink sweetness of Lorraine. Her ice cream. Only the ice cream of course. You could never. She would never.

You grit your teeth, white knuckle gripping the steering wheel, trying to undo the sudden knots twisting in your stomach. Lorraine isn’t helping the case, savoring the ice cream with a slow tongue, sucking the melted runoff from her fingers. It’s simultaneously innocent and pornographic. It makes you dislike RJ even more. 

She pops the last bit of the cone into her mouth as you pull down the dirt driveway along the side of her house, finally granting you a reprieve. You park next to the barn and jump out of the truck, eager to put some space between yourself and Lorraine. To your great disappointment, she follows you into the barn and sits on a short stack of hay bales as you ready yourself to finish the barn chores. 

You pick up a pitch fork and press the teeth into the dirt, leaning on the wooden handle. “You don’t got anything better to do today than watch me sweat, or what?” 

She shrugs, picking at the hay, “Nothing interesting.”

“Where’s your boyfriend?” You ask, the question weighted in your gut.

She sighs and purses her lips, “He went with some crew out past Houston to film somethin.”

Your brow furrows, “You don’t sound too pleased about that.”

“Well he says it’s gonna be tasteful, but it’s smut.”

You snort a laugh through your nose, stumbling forward as you press too much weight into the pitchfork. You right yourself and look back to her, her expression unamused.

“He’s shootin a porno?”

She rolls her eyes at you, “I guess if that’s what you want to call it, then yeah.”

You raise your eyebrow at her, grinning, “Well if there’s naked people bumpin up against each other, usually you call that a porno.”

She huffs, “A tasteful one though.”

You laugh in over-exaggerated disbelief, “Tasteful or no, he’s filmin people fuckin. You’re okay with that?”

She gestures vacantly with her hand, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I don’t even know why people want to do stuff like that. Sex ain’t all that exciting anyway.”

You bark out a laugh, then stop when you realize she wasn’t joking.

“What do you mean, it ‘ain’t all that exciting’?” You air quote, waiting for her to clarify.

She shrugs, “It just ain’t. Everyone acts like it’s some grand ole time, but mostly I find myself just waitin for it to be over.”

Your jaw drops, and you let go of the pitchfork, dropping that too. “You mean to tell me RJ ain’t shakin your tree every other hour?”

The blush that rises up her neck tells you everything you need to know. She has no idea what it’s supposed to be like. Obviously, her boyfriend is doing something terribly wrong. The heat rises to her cheeks and she starts chewing the inside of her lip.

“I mean he does, but I won’t let him much. It’s more fun for him than it is for me.”

You scoff and bend over to pick up the pitchfork. You’re shaking your head, opening the empty horse stall, quietly exiting the conversation before you say something she won’t like. 

She pipes up before you can enter the stall, the frown on her face clear even from the other side of the barn. “What? You been doin better? I don’t see you running around town with any boys.”

You purse your lips and turn back to her, “Well that’s your first problem right there, Lorraine. I don’t go runnin around with boys.”

You turn back to the stall to let her absorb the information. It takes her a few minutes, enough time for you to start mucking the hay. You hear her get up and figure she would leave, but her head pops up over the side of the stall, her arms resting on the top beam.

“So you been runnin around with girls then?”

You scoop a pile of soiled hay, nodding once, “Now and again.”

She hums, her brow furrowed in curiosity, “What’s that like?”

“Better’n whatever RJs been doin to you.”

She lifts her head from her hands, irritation spreading across her face, “You tellin me you could do better?”

This is a line you hadn’t ever walked. Sure, you flirted with her subtly but never outright propositioned her. Maybe it’s the heat that has your brain a little foggy, or maybe the realization that the most beautiful girl you’d ever seen had never been given a proper orgasm pushed you to the line.

“Without a doubt.” You say, not looking up from your work. 

She’s quiet, and you worry you’ve gouged an indelible mark into your friendship. You glance up at her and are surprised to find hesitant but curious eyes on you. You stop working and watch her eyes trail down your neck and over your shoulders. You cock your head, was she checking you out? 

She glances back up and realizes you’ve caught her, and the blush returns to her cheeks. She drops off the side of the stall and out of your sight, so you stake the pitchfork into the ground and slowly exit back into the open barn. You’re nervous, so you stick your hand in your pocket for the candies you stash there, hoping to keep yourself busy while you mend whatever damage you’d just done. 

She’s sitting on the hay bales again, biting her nails. You approach her and open your palm, a watermelon Jolly Rancher rolling there.

“Quit chewin your nails. Have a candy.” 

She takes it quickly, unwrapping it and popping it into her mouth. She’s gazing up at you, her face thoughtful. 

She pushes the candy into her cheek, “How does it work?”

You roll the blue sweet around in your mouth, wondering how in-depth to go, “Depends. We have mouths and hands just like any boy.”

She gulps and sputters, “Your mouth?” 

You raise your eyebrows at her, this is worse than you’d thought. “Well yeah, don’t RJ do that to you?”

She shakes her head no, eyes wide. You lick your lips, unconsciously taking a step toward her. Her lips part just slightly, her eyes growing dark with her pupils expanding. You catch her stealing the fastest glance at your lips and consider your losses if you do cross this line. If she rejects you, you can laugh it off and go back to mucking the horse stall. But if she doesn’t, oh, the consequences of that are enough to make your mouth water around the hard candy on your tongue. 

You take another step toward her, gauging her reaction. Her fingers twitch at her side, and she inhales sharply, but she doesn’t move away. The candy in your mouth has dissolved completely, the extra saliva under your tongue mixing sweet and syrupy. Hers is gone too, either swallowed whole or meeting the same fate as yours. You throw caution to the wind and reach down, cupping her jaw in your hand. Her breathing speeds up, her chest rising and falling quickly beneath her shirt. 

You lean in, inches from her lips, emboldened by her body language, and whisper, “I could show you, if you want.”

She gulps again, “You-you could?”

“Would you like me to show you?” You say, your voice low and soft, just a hair away from her lips.

She nods slowly, inhaling deeply. It’s all the consent you need, and you close the gap, pressing your lips into hers. You intended to take it slow, ease her into the idea of kissing a girl. But she surges forward the moment your lips meet, wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling you close. Your tongue glides across her lip, and she gasps, opening her mouth to greet your tongue with hers. Her hands are in your hair, gripping, and her knees are spreading apart, allowing you more space to move in on her. 

She whimpers when you bite softly on her bottom lip, and a fire ignites in your lower belly. Your hands begin to wander, down her neck, over her shoulders and breasts, sliding down her ribs to her hips. You trail kisses down her jaw and lick at her pulse, eliciting more small mewls from the back of her throat. You take your time on her neck, testing how far she’s willing to let you go. She leans her head back, her hands grasping at your shoulder blades over your shirt. 

She’s touch starved, hungry for an intimacy that is clearly missing from her current relationship.  You pull back and drop to your knees between her legs, looking up at her while tracing your fingers along the hem of her shirt. You can feel her stomach twitch under your fingers, excited and ticklish. She looks down at you with a mixed expression. She’s nervous, but she wants this. More than you had expected. She takes her shirt from under your fingers and pulls it over her head, her jaw clenched but her head nodding yes. 

You slow your approach, if she’s nervous, you know she won’t enjoy it as much. You take the time to soothe her, ease her into it, make her comfortable with wanting you. Her denim shorts are bunched up, revealing miles of skin, hot to the touch. You run your palms from her knees up to her hips, inching your body in between her legs until your chest is pressing into her stomach. You plant a soft kiss on her ribs, just under her bra, your hands making their way to her waist to steady her. 

She reaches down to you, her hand sliding around the side of your neck, and pushes you back some so she can lean down and kiss you again. You savor the sugary taste on her tongue, the two flavors of jolly ranchers mixing in your mouth. She seems more sure now, her hands wandering across your shoulders and back, taking in your form. You break away from her lips and shuffle back to press hot, open mouthed kisses below her belly button, running your tongue along the top of her shorts. She leans back on her hands, opening her body to you. 

You take the button of her shorts between your fingers and look up at her, waiting for permission. She nods hurriedly, reaching down to help you push them off of her. You brush her rushing hands away and undo the button, pulling her forward to the edge of the hay bale. The shorts and her underwear hit the ground behind you as you toss them over your shoulder, your hands returning to the tops of her thighs. You spread her legs, and your jaw drops at the sight.

You didn’t think she could get more attractive, and yet, here she was, soaking wet and wanting and absolutely beautiful. 

“Oh fuck,” you whisper, your eyes glued to her center.

She gasps and tries to close her legs but ends up squeezing your shoulders as you lean in.

“Oh god, is it bad, it’s never been like this, I-“ she’s breathless and panicky, but you cut her rambling off with a kiss to her swollen clit.

You drag your tongue from her opening back up to her clit, circling it once, twice, then sucking it in between your lips. She’s lost all composure, forgetting her insecurities and letting out surprised sighs and soft moans. You detach and turn your head, nip at her thigh, and soothe it with your tongue. You look up at her and grin.

“Don’t apologize. You’re incredible.” You say, your voice raspy. 

She whimpers as you dive back in, licking up all the nectar she has to give you. She is decidedly better than the ice cream you’d had earlier, the salt of her sweat mingling in the sweetness between her legs. You dip your tongue inside her entrance, and one of her hands winds its way into your hair. You pull your tongue out and drag it up to her clit again, lapping at it slowly, learning what she likes through touch and sound alone. She’s shaking under your mouth, her legs squeezing your head as you wrap your hands around them. You give her one long suck, rolling your tongue over her and she cums, hard. Her hips tilt up into your face and her hand in your hair presses you into her, her head thrown back and mouth open. You keep at it, letting her ride it out as long as she can until she’s pushing your head back, twitching and panting.

You kiss the inside of her thighs on both legs and look up at her, a wide smile on your shining lips. She’s still gasping for air, but she looks down at you, and it’s clear she’s in awe. 

“That’s…that was…I’ve never…” she stutters, still breathless.

You rest your arms on her legs, smirking up at her in self-satisfaction, “Come down here with me, and we can do it again.”

“Again?”

“Yes, again. And again, if you want.”

The next thing you know, you’re on your back, fresh hay clinging to your hair and the sweet smell of alfalfa working its way into your clothes. Lorraine leans down and kisses you, groaning into your lips, looking for the “again” that was promised. You don’t tell her you could do this all day with her, you don’t even need food. Just her. 

She’s reaching down and pulling your shirt up, so you sit up, letting her pull it over your head before crashing back down into you. Moaning at the feeling of your skin on hers. You reach around her back, still kissing her, and unclasp her bra, letting it fall from her shoulders. She sits up and slings it aside, quick to return to your lips. She’s hurried now, her skin burning hot on yours. Her kisses are growing sloppy in her rush, but you find you enjoy it even more that way. 

You lift your hips and roll her over, settling your leg between hers and taking in the view. Her dark hair is mixed with the hay, the contrast making it even more beautiful. You lean into her and realize you’re criminally overdressed, so you unbutton your jeans and push them to your ankles before kicking them off behind you. Now when you lean in, you can feel how wet she is on your thigh, and the sensation alone nearly takes you out. 

You drop your face into her neck again, kissing and nipping her skin, leaving faint pink marks in your wake. While your lips begin their descent to her chest, your hand runs down her ribs. You slide your leg back, and your fingers find her clit, rubbing small circles over the overly sensitive area. A soft “oh” falls from her lips when you run your tongue over her nipple, then suck on it softly. Her hands are restless, her nails running down your spine, up the back of your neck, softly gripping your hair only to release and begin again. 

She’s not twitching away from your fingers anymore, her body recovered and ready for round two. You run your fingers through her, groaning around her nipple as you feel how warm and wet she is. You slide two fingers into her, and she sighs in relief. Like she’d been waiting for you all day. Like nothing was more desirable than your fingers filling her up. You release her nipple with a pop and breathe slowly through your nose, fending off your own orgasm feeling how tight she was around you. Once you’ve recovered, you begin to pump your arm, curling your fingers softly before you pull out. You graze her G spot and she shouts, clenching down on you and sitting up on her elbows. You stop moving, looking up at her in alarm.

“Did I hurt you?”

She swallows, her eyes wide, “No, no, it’s just. What was that?” 

Of course, RJ hadn’t ever hit that spot. You internally roll your eyes at his ineptness. It was criminal, she hadn’t even known the spot was there. 

You curl your fingers again, pressing into it, “You mean this?”

Her eyes roll and her lashes flutter, her arms shaking under her, “Yeah, yes. How?”

You pull out slightly, then push back in and do it again, pulling another whimper from her throat, “Do you like that?”

She nods, dropping back to the ground.

You lean over her, your mouth close to her ear, “Tell me.”

“I like it,” she sighs, her hands moving into your hair, “Oh god I like it.” 

You smile and press a kiss to the side of her jaw, “Good.” You say and begin moving your fingers again. 

You use your thumb to circle her clit gently, and her breathing speeds up. One hand in your hair, and one squeezing your shoulder. She pulls you down, kisses you feverishly, groaning through her nose as your tongues slide across each others. Your pace is steady as you fuck her into the ground, alternating between kissing her lips and down her neck. Her nails drag across your back, digging deep into your skin, the sting giving you goosebumps. 

Her neck is straining and she’s panting, arching her back up into your body. Her moans grow closer together and louder.

“Oh, fuck y/n, right there,” she groans, “I’m gonna, I’m gonna-“

The rest of her statement is cut off by a low pitched moan, her body seizing up and her legs squeezing your body. The sound of her orgasm sends you hurtling into your own, stiffening your back and clenching your legs. She drops into the hay and dirt just before you drop onto her, bodies spent and hearts racing. You slide your weight off to her side, pulling your hand out from between her legs, your head resting on her shoulder. You lay your arm across her, careful not to let your fingers fall into the dirt. 

Once the post orgasmic high wears off, you sit up, looking down at her. Her eyes are far away, distant in thought. You caress her cheek with the back of your hand, smiling warmly.

“You okay?”

She blinks quickly, her eyes shifting over to you. She nods, “More than okay.” 

“You wanna do it again?” You ask her, smiling coyly at her.

She looks dumbfounded, her mouth opening and closing without speaking. You smirk at her, feeling smug about the state you’ve put her in. 

She finally comes around and nods, “I just need a minute.”

You shrug, “That’s okay. Take all the time you need. My day is yours now.”

She sits up, her eyes wide and a half smile tugging at her lips. She pulls you over, kissing you slowly and softly. As the pace begins to pick up, the sound of car tires on the gravel outside rip the two of you apart. 

Lorraine gasps, her eyes wide with terror, “Daddy.”

You frown, “Well, no one’s ever called me that before, but I’m not against the nickname.”

She shoves your shoulder and scrambles to her feet, looking for her clothes, “No idiot. My dad, he’s home.”

“Oh shit!” You yelp, joining her in the search for clothing. 

It’s a mad dash, pulling on underwear and pants and shoes, shuffling around in the barn, both of you trying not to giggle. You hear his footsteps approaching and run into the horse stall, frantically grabbing the abandoned pitch fork. Lorraine scrambles up the side of the stall and sits perched on the edge, pretending to watch you muck out the hay. 

Her eyes are wild, and she whispers to you, “I couldn’t find my panties.”

You blanch, knowing full well if Mr. Day saw the Sunday panties in the hay, he’d know exactly what had gone on. You pop your head over the stall, your eyes scanning the barn floor for them. You finally catch sight of them, half hidden under the rusty old tractor in the corner. Too far for you to run over to hide them. You cross your fingers, hoping he doesn’t catch sight of them. Lorraine is doing a horrendous job of appearing nonchalant, twisting her fingers and swinging her legs. You glance up at her as he walks in and give her your hardest ‘be chill’ look before you start shoveling horse shit.

“There’s my beautiful daughter,” Mr. Day’s low, scratchy voice rumbles out as he saunters over to the stall, patting her back and looking over the wall at you.

“And my favorite ranch hand. Hard at work, as always.”

You stop shoveling to stand and smile at him. You shoot him a wink, “You know me sir, always workin on somethin.”

He barks out a laugh, his mustache getting caught between his lips. He sighs, patting Lorraine’s leg, “You’re a good kid, y/n. A damn good kid.” He looks up at his daughter, “Good company for my baby girl, keep her around, Lorraine.”

He pats her leg once more and turns to shuffle out of the barn, making his way up to the house. Lorraine lets out a breath you hadn’t realized she was holding and slouches over. You grin up at her conspiratorially. She grimaces at you, making you frown.

“Whats’a matter? He didn’t suspect a thing.”

She starts wringing her hands again, looking down at her fingers, “What if RJ finds out?”

You snort and shake your head “Baby, he’s got his head so far up his own ass I’m pretty sure I could make you cum in front of him, and he wouldn’t notice.”

She shoots you an exasperated look, picking up a loose screw off the post next to her and throwing it at you.

 “He would too notice, and he’s gonna notice these.” She says, softly running her fingertip over the bite marks and hickeys on the inside of her thighs. 

She shivers, closing her eyes and licking her lips. You dip your head down, pretending not to see but grinning like mad at the hay in your pitchfork. Hopefully, he did notice the marks. Hopefully, she figured you were better for her than he was. Hopefully, the first petite mort you had given her opened her eyes to the possibilities of satisfaction. When you lift your head to look at her again, she’s smiling at you. 

“Your apartment got room for two?”

“You gonna buy me dinner first?” You ask, smirking.

“If you do that to me again, I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

“I want a great big ranch house and a new truck.” You tell her, dropping the pitchfork and strutting over to her.

You put your hands on her knees and open her legs, stepping between them again, her hips at face height. You rest your head on her thigh and look up at her. Her eyes are soft and warm, and she reaches out to run her fingers through your hair. 

“I think I can find a way to make that happen.”

“Put it on your tab.” You say, kissing the bite mark on her thigh.

“It’s gonna run up pretty high.”

“You can afford it.”

[spacedace]

Here be the first little bit of the new DP x DC AU I warned about earlier where Tim, due to his constant repeated attempts at cloning Bart & Kon, accidentally summons slightly eldritch Elle who is very interested in what he’s up to.

As always feel free to run with this as a prompt if yall find anything here interesting :D

*

Tim didn’t mean to summon her.

He’d been in the lab, staring at the data on the latest failed attempts at cloning Kon and Bart and feeling like he was cracking in two. Eyes burning, chest tight, world spinning out into shifting impossible shadows around him as his mind and body struggled to push him forward into another day without sleep. The hush of water in the tanks, his unsteady steps on the cement floor, the chill seeping into his bones.

He stumbled and swayed through the maze of the lab, numbers dripping like blood down the screen as he tried to stare at the figures. He needed to try again, needed to bring them back, in whatever capacity he could. This time would work. This time he’d get it right.

When he saw her, feet clumsy as he rounded a corner, he thought she was just another hallucination.

How could she be anything else?

Skin like a polished mirror, hair like the white-hot flash of lightning, eyes as green as the depths of the Lazarus Pits. She floated before a tank, spectral and strange with a long wisping tail that drifted off into nothingness in place of legs, body shifting and changing before his eyes in ways that bodies should not be able to. Outside of the eyes the face was…not there. An impression of the shapes that you’d expect to see in a human face, like the Question’s. Sometimes though the features defined, sharpened. Mirror bright skin crackling as faces took shape in the glass.

In the low light of the lab, he almost imaged one of those faces was Kon’s. Dimples and freckles and high cheek bones and the slant of a silhouette that haunted Tim’s dreams at night. A flicker of her lightining hair and it was gone. Smoothed back into soft blankness once more.

He watched from the of the aisle as she lifted too-long mirror shard fingers and rest them gently on the glass as she seemed to peer in at the lifeless body inside.

Attempt 76.

One of his tries with Bart. The organs hadn’t grown right during the age-up process. Tim had cried for that one as he had for all the others. As he had for Bart and Kon when they had died. As he still did as the fact that it was more maddened grief than hope that kept him pushing forward anyway.

He closed his eyes to the hallucination at the end of the aisle. Breathed deep and steady. It might be gone when he opened his eyes again. It might not be. It might be something - someone - else when he dares look next. He’d been through this time and time again over the days and weeks he’d been throwing himself at this agonizing wall. The only difference this time was the intricate strangeness, the total lack of recognition he had for the figure, baring the moment he almost saw Kon in its face.

Coffee. Maybe some harder stimulants, if he had any left. New data to review, new attempts to be made. He didn’t have time for the effects of sleep deprivation.

Tim opened his eyes.

He jerked back as he came face to face with himself, warped and strange and green in the reflective face of the being where it now hovered so close that if it breathed he would feel it upon his face.

She tilted her head at him, curious. Hands rose to cup his face, rest on his shoulders, wrap around his arms, cradle his hands. More hands than he’d seen before. More hands than he was able to truly comprehend, stomach souring as his eyes stung and strained in the attempt to look at the impossible warping of her body. Despite the glint of shattered glass that made up her fractured palms and splintered silver fingers, her hands were soft and warm where they curled around him. Almost human in the way they held him in place, the hold pleasantly firm.

He’d never had a doting elder aunt to pinch his cheeks and demand to get a look at him, but he imagined this might be what that felt like. The way the being shifted her head from side to side, his reflection warping in the curved reflection of the planes of her featureless face, added to the strange idea. His hallucinations didn’t normally touch him, though. And never so…kindly.

Tim felt his blood go cold as he realized it might not be a figment of his fracturing mind floating before him.

Swallowing nervously, he tried to shift backwards, to slip out of the many grasping hands before the softness turned sharp and began to cut into him. He felt something cool against the back of his legs, hair standing on end as static electricity built up on his skin where he brushed the trailing tail he hadn’t noticed her curl around him. The entity leaned in close, the depthless green of her glowing eyes consuming Tim’s entire field of vision, and he was flooded by the sudden, horrible awareness of being Known.

The world fell away from him, his stomach lurching with the sick-sweet feel of free fall that used to exhilarate him when he’d first become Robin and had flown from rooftops dangling by his grapple and his belief in the magic being Robin instilled in him. The lab, the equipment, the piles of data and desperate scribbles, the failed clones, Tim himself. All swept away in the flood of green and the roar of lightning and the cool press of glass.

He came to would could have been minutes or centuries later. Gasping and sick on the cold cement floor, shivering as he dry heaved. His mouth full of salt and copper and the burning crackle of ozone at the back of his throat.

For a moment, disoriented and dizzy, he thought it had all been a hallucination after all. Or some fractious dream visited upon him by his torn and tattered mind after he’d finally collapsed from exhaustion on the lab floor. That the entity truly had been just in his mind, a consequence of his refusal to rest until his work was done.

Then he felt the glass-cool fingers running through his hair, the warm hand rubbing at his back, heard the low murmurs of reassurance in a voice that was almost, almost human.

He spasmed as he tried to jerk away, hissing with the sharp sting of pins and needles dancing over every nerve. His limbs were heavy and clumsy, and he was crashing back to the cold floor under his own weight before he could even try and drag himself away. His breathing came in short, aching gasps as he tried to twist away, only managing to roll to his back to see the entity where it sat calmly looking down at him.

She had a face now. A solid, steady one that fit her in a way that made him think it must be her real one, though what that meant exactly he didn’t know. The glowing eyes had dimmed and shifted, more human looking with black pupils and white sclera. Button nose marked with silver-tarnish freckles that spread over her cheeks too. A mouth, with lips curled into an apologetic smile. Her hair, still shifting as if caught in a wind that wasn’t there, was still the bright white it’d been before, but the lighting of the locks had settled into faint crackles between the curls. Whatever she was, whatever she’d done to him, he could look at her without feeling like his mind might just crack in two.

“Wha-“ His voice cracked, painful and hoarse like he’d been screaming. Maybe he had been. Swallowing around the burn in his throat, he choked out a hissed, “What are you?”

Her head tilted in that curious slant again, more human features giving her a bright, youthful look as she peered down at him questioningly. “You summoned me, Little Gaffer, shouldn’t you know?”

*

Gaffer is a term used for a glass crafter, as well as light technicians for stage/movie productions. I’m using it as the term for the person who creates a Clone, with the clone themselves being a Mirrorborn, and the person they are cloned from being called the clone’s Reflected. Gaffer is probably a bit of a stretch for this, technically I think someone who makes mirrors would be called a Glazier (Glaziers are glassmakers) but I wasn’t vibing that as much. Besides I like the vibe of glass + light = mirror in a way.

Anyway, opening volley of a new AU where Tim ends up becoming like a warlock to Elle to get his loved ones back, while Elle is just having the time of her sorta eldritch little life watching this absolute mess of a human wreck shit and cause so much chaos even without the powers she starts giving him.

(Elle in this is both the God Queen of Clones/Mirrorborn as well as the Ancient of the Speedforce (which I’ve decided is called the Ever Onward in the Infinite Realms, because I literally can’t be stopped from trying to make normal DC things sound mystical because spooky Infinite Realms aesthetics haha)

Have a tiny bit more written for this, but don’t know how much I’ll end up writing for it with all the other projects I have currently lol, so if anyone is interested feel free to run with it as you so desire haha

[ddejavvu]

hi mei :) for mvm what about camboy!marauders invite you (their gf) as a special guest on their stream and the viewers go crazy in a good way ofc

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

this post is 18+, minors dni.

You're not sure what it is about your current position that has donations flooding in. Maybe it's Remus's tongue in your cunt, or maybe it's Sirius's red-tipped, leaking cock rutting between the globes of your ass, kissing your tight hole with every thrust. The part that's really getting you going, though, is James's hands, big and calloused and rough, spread over your face. One is practically enough to cover all of your identifying features, leaving only your jawline exposed to the camera, but he's got to tuck one thick finger into your mouth or you'll scream loud enough for the neighbors to hear, and they're already on thin ice due to noise complaints.

"Jesus, that's a lotta cash," Remus grunts, tongue lolling about in your cunt as he speaks. In response to a donation Sirius sends a sharp slap to the fat of your ass and watches it jiggle against your thighs, giving Remus ample opportunity to nip at the crease between your thighs and your ass while promising, "We'll buy you a real mask, bunny."

"I like this one," James hums, feeling your soft, smooth, wet tongue lave over his finger as you pant around it, "Jesus, gotta get my cock in there."

"Me first," Sirius pants, his hand stroking far and fast up his length with lewd squelches, "I've been working this one up for ages, mate."

"Just cum," Remus grunts, flicking his tongue up against the curve of your ass, "I'll use it to tongue'r open."

"Oh, fuck," Sirius grunts, unintentionally following Remus's orders at the image. The man does as promised, a scar on his face stretching and warping as he conforms his lips to the tight pucker of your ass, Sirius's cum already splattered there.

James's mask doesn't work well enough when Remus's tongue begins prodding at your hole, and he fumbles with one hand to unbuckle his belt. He's stiff when he tugs down his boxers, and if you could see it, the sight of his red, aching cock would send you into a frenzy. Your vision is obscured, though, and you barely have warning before he's slipping his finger out of your mouth and replacing it with his cock instead.

"There y'go," He croons, fingers still covering your face, "That's'a proper gag, yeah? Jus' try 'n scream now, love."