#I want to strangle whoever is responsible for this

[mercury-sappho]

Welp. our future landlords fucked is over with two weeks before we move in. Guess it’s time to listen to the Dark Side of the Moon again and try not to fucking cry

[cavegirlpoems]

A story from back when I played D&D. It might have been 3.5 or pathfinder or fantasycraft or one of that ilk. Might even have been 4e. It was like a decade ago.

So. Standard D&D. A party of bold adventurers of diverse origins and skillsets gets together to explore a perilous dungeon and stop a cartoonish baddy. The usual.

I end up building a fairly typical character for me. A goblin Rogue/Assassin. A stealth/melee build designed to get the drop on an enemy, do a bunch of rapid damage, and then fuck off.

She was lawful evil, and firmly in the team-fortress-two-sniper school of "You know who has a lot of feelings? Men what bludgeon their wives to death with a golf trophy. Professionals have standards." school of being a mercenary. I think I even did an aussie accent.

Anyway her schtick was that she'd noticed 'Adventurers' got to do as much violence as they wanted without social consequences, and she loved violence! So she was gonna do a stint as an adventurer, so once she was done she could go home with a big sack of gold to spend on booze and cake and hot girls. But right now she was on the job, so she was an extremely professional team player with a strict code of conduct. Always be honest with the team, follow the plan, don't mess things up for the team, split the loot evenly. Standards.

Verna was a horrible efficient little murder gremlin who was also proudly guild-certified. * * *

Now, another PC was a chaotic neutral gnome bard who was leaning hard on the 'gnomes are amusingly racist to goblins and kobolds and think this is funny and endearing' thing. He teased Verna a bunch about being green and ugly, which she studiously ignored because - remember - she had Professional Standards.

Anyway, there was a human NPC we met that she didn't like, saying he was a bit stupid and very annoying. Our gnome bard decided it would be very funny to use one of his enchantment spells to make Verna suddenly horny for him and watch what happened.

Verna sees the gnome who keeps fucking with her walk up, wave his hands and babble some arcane nonsense, and now she has weird funny feelings she can't explain. She does some thinking and concludes that she'll pay the human for a snog later, because right now this guy's just obviously cast a spell to mess with her mind, which was Not Okay. Of course, she had Professional Standards, so...

She walks up to our gnome friend and basically informs him: "Hi! I know you just did some magical brainwashing on me, and I am not going to tolerate this! However, because we're in a team together, and I don't want this to become a problem, I am going to very generously allow you to settle the matter with me. We will have a bout of single combat to first blood, and then whoever wins I will consider the matter settled and my honour satisfied, and you won't do that again, and we won't mention it. This is a very kind offer of mine, because I have Standards; where I come from the normal response would be to say nothing and strangle you in your sleep tonight."

And our gnome, who is a spellcaster not a combatant, looks at this and decides he doesn't want to get shown up by her, and basically tells her that if she doesn't like getting messed with she can go back to the goblin village, and laughs at her.

So. Shrug. Quickdraw as a free action. I get a surprise round. You're flat footed, so it's easy to hit and I get sneak attack damage. 3/4 of his health is gone. Initiative. He says he wants to say sorry. I respond that he can say that when it gets to his initiative count, but right now it's my action and he's still flat-footed and here's my big pile of d6s for sneak attack and oh dear I think that's him on -10 hp, so he's not going to get the chance.

* * *

Anyway this kicked off a massive shitstorm ooc about how I just kicked off PvP and murdered a PC for no reason and the game fell apart because the gnome's player genuinely didn't seem to understand that 'mind control' is a hostile action. This was in the bad old days before safety tools and I was playing in a fairly neckbeardy group, so 'a man makes a woman horny against her will to humiliate her and laughs about it' was apparently not a deal-breaker while 'the woman stabs him for it' was.

I still think I wasn't the bad guy in this scenario.

There is no point to this story I just wanted to share it.

[princessbrunette]

ᡣ𐭩 ｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅PRINCESSBRUNETTES SCREAM SALON INTRODUCES … ໒꒰ྀི ˃̵ ࿁ ˂̵ ꒱ྀིა

BLINK TWICE ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

♩cecile believe — blink twice ♩

pairing: supe!rafe x reader

cw: theboys!au, hostage situation, guns, rafe is 6ft7 because of compound v lol, forceful-ish sex, fear, death (not reader)

you are responsible for your own media consumption. welcome to kinktober day six. better late than never!

you’d only ever seen ‘king kook’ on tv.

six-foot-seven feet of pure lean muscle and compound v. you didn’t invest yourself too much into the capitalism porn and multi millionaire industry that were supes, not enough to admire the beloved favourite himself anyway. but you can safely say, once or twice it had crossed your mind. him. king kook.

many things had crossed your mind, but not one of them had been the fact one day you might be in the hostage situation you currently were — sky high in a penthouse that didn’t belong to you. you were just the maid for christs sake, caught up in a crime that you’d rather be far from.

as you listen to the repetitive drum that was your captors shoes, pacing back and forth in only the next room, your wrists tied, you lean back against the wall and stare up at the fluorescent lights in the walk in closet you were being temporarily stored in.

you’d already tried to plead for your life, bravely call out to your captor and ask to be spared — but had only had been slapped, the cold kiss of a pistol being pressed to your forehead shortly after forcing you quickly back into submission. all you could do now, was either wait to be killed or wait to be saved.

then of course there was the sound of the front door swinging open without a care that had you tensing up. the police wouldn’t just bust in like that without a plan, could it be another accomplice? you’re proven wrong once more by the sound of your captors voice once more — urgent and pleading, followed by a voice you hadn’t heard prior, and yet was somewhat familiar.

“alright alright, quit with the cryin’ okay— got yourself into this mess i don’t wanna hear it.”

there’s a strangled sound, the patio glass down sliding open, a yelp — and then silence. whoever had come to save you, had just thrown your captor from the balcony. you’re frozen, praying you weren’t next.

“you uh— you in here? ‘can come out now, okay he’s… he’s gone.” the male voice sounds reluctant, like he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the aftermath and you push yourself to your feet — bravely peeping from the closet.

there in the hallway, stands the famous supe— king kook, in all his glory. you knew he was huge but he seemed to tower now, the light from the open patio door casting an angelic glow around him— something like you’d never seen before.

your knees feel weak, all shaky like a baby deer and he presses his lips together.

“you’re…”

“want a picture or something?” he itches his jaw and you shake your head. in that moment, he takes you in — eyes dragging down and then back up as he blinks, waiting for a response. you suddenly feel nude under his gaze, and you wonder if that’s a superpower of his. you blame the stupid little black dress your boss forces you to wear.

“no. thank you. thank you for saving me.” you tremble, braving a step closer.

usually, he’d shrug it off — ruin the sweet moment with a ‘well it’s my job, so.’ and head off — but he’d had a long day and you were his final save until he had to head back to the tower for daily debriefs. didn’t hurt that you were easy on the eyes.

“yeah. he would have uh…” a grin spreads across his face and it feels cold, wrong for the moment. “he would have had your head on a stick.”

you feel queasy at the imagery but you’re distracted by the visage of the supe eyeing you once more. “do you drink?”

unsure as to how you got there, you stand at the kitchen counter with him now — still shaky. you figured with these things they’d come to have an ambulance check you over, make sure you’re okay, physically and mentally. but in this moment, there was no one coming. it was just you, and king kook.

you watch the muscles in his back contract as he faces away from you, unscrewing the cap to a bottle of expensive alcohol and pouring it into short glasses. when he faces you again, he’s charming — a coy smile leaving lines in his cheeks and focused eyes. it was never unheard of that he was handsome, you’re just noticing it now— close up and in person.

“get some of that in you, yeah?” he drawls, sliding the glass towards you, his fingers lingering on the rim— eyes on yours. “that shit should get you nice and relaxed.”

you take a sip, wincing at the sharp taste that burned your throat. whiskey — and you were never really a fan. but hey, it would be rude to decline. the supe chuckles at your reaction that you tried to hide, drinking his with ease.

“so what am i supposed to do now? do i need to report this to someone? i’ve never… been a hostage before.” your brow crinkles as your neck cranes to look up at him, the man suddenly closer than before, licking his lips like a malnourished alligator.

“uh, nah… no. you let me handle that, yeah? this was my save so… you report to me.” he tilts his head and you find yourself biting your lip. you want to scold yourself, but blame it on adrenaline instead.

“oh… well, i’m thankful for that.”

“yeah? how thankful.” he moves a little closer, and you feel tiny.

“hm?” all doe eyed and helpless, you practically feed it to him.

large hands find your hips, and to your surprise you’re spun to face away from him, the man leaning down so his hot breath invades the space between your neck and ear.

“you know i- i had a really long day. maybe we… figure something out, right? a way for you to pay me back.”

“how so?” you whimper.

it all happens so fast — one moment you’re being smooth talked, next moment your feet are dangling in the air, being used like a fleshlight. you’re grasping onto him now, flailing a little at the fact you were totally off the ground, the man effortlessly supporting your weight.

“fuckfuckfuck— yeah-haha, like that.” he strains, hips plapping violently against your ass as he fucks into you. no protection or anything, but somewhere in the back of your mind you figured supes couldn’t procreate like that.

“k—king m’gonna fall— gonna—mmph.” you sound deranged, like an animal even as you flop against him, letting him hammer you in the air.

“shh—shutup, a’ight? gonna — gonna let me have this… mmph… gonna be a grateful girl for me okay?” he grunts, adjusting his feet wider and closing his eyes to concentrate on the warm embrace of your snug cunt.

you suppose you were grateful, and whilst you were filled with shame — the least you could do would be to try and enjoy it.

[gay-dorito-dust]

( ´∀`) I am possibly missing where it says your requests are open or not. I apologize if it is.

If it interests you (your batfam posts bring me joy) how would the boys Jay, Dick, Damian (whoever else) would react to only being able to tell the truth for a day? Like they confess all the things they like about their crush, compliment their family, admit to disliking a dish Alfred made (GASP <(｀^´)> ).

Thank youuuuu~

Jason wore his heart on his sleeve, he lets anyone knows what’s on his mind with zero filter, so him being forced to be truthful was no different to how Jason actually was on a day to day basis.

So at first he doesn’t think anything was out of the ordinary until you asked him a question one day regarding your love life;

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to find anyone here Jay, I mean what do I have to do to find somebody.’

‘You don’t have to do anything because everyone else is the problem, not you.’ Jason found himself answering before his mind could find an appropriate response without crossing the boundary of your friendship. ‘They obviously don’t see perfection when they see it because they weren’t looking at you and I find that insulting because who wouldn’t look into your eyes and see forever within them?.’ He finishes and was quick to cover his mouth with his hand, worried that he might’ve said too much for you.

‘And do you see forever in my eyes jay birdie?’ You asked softly, leaning towards him.

Jason drops his hand from his mouth. ‘Hell yeah I do, amongst many other things because you’re worth every heartbreak I’ve ever had in the past because being with you would be my life’s greatest dream come true.’

The next time Jason spoke truthfully was when Dick came to visit and it was after a long, long night of patrol and sleep was at the forefront of his mind, causing it to fog as he let it slip on what he truly thought of Dick.

‘You’re my brother, we may not be related by blood but no one has stood in my corner and was so prepared to be in the wrong then you Richard, and for that I thank you. You really are the best of us.’

Needless to say when he found out that Dick had the whole thing recorded, he wanted to strangle the fucker and make his death look like an accident. Sibling things.

Now, Jason -much like any other- loved Alfred’s food and would never raise an issue over it as he’d pretty much eat anything with his bottomless stomach. So even if he didn’t like one of Alfred’s recipes more self then others, he would say it in the most politest way possible. He loved that kindhearted man too much to ever say anything in regards of the food he’s made him since he was a young lad.

Dick would find peoples expressions to him being honest and truthful funny, but at the same time would be somewhat relieved with this turn out, as he wouldn’t have to force himself to be truthful just to get people to stop asking whether he was alright or not.

He knew he wasn’t always open and honest with his innermost thoughts and feelings at the best and worst of times, knowing all too well of how that would cause lead to the occasional argument of two down the line for himself, but he was never really given the space to figure it out himself on his own time.

So when he found himself speaking the truth to just about anyone, it was as though his heart was exposed for all to see it beating and all. It was as though all of his innermost thoughts regarding everyone in his life was being broadcasted to anyone and everyone with ears and the ability to hear it.

‘You’re so good with Hayley you know.’ Dick blurted once when you were playing with Hayley, stoping as soon as you heard him say this, allowing for Hayley to snatch the toy from your limp hand and lie down elsewhere to amuse herself with the squeaks that the toy would make every time she bite down on it.

‘What?’ You asked.

‘I mean it, you’re really good with Hayley and you’ve been nothing but an amazing person with a pretty smile and addicting laugh.’ Dick adds as he held his head in his hands as he looked at you with a soft look upon his face. Dick wasn’t still that bothered that you knew how he felt, it was bound to come out sooner or later and would take it in stride, even if he didn’t have control over what had just came out of his mouth just now.

The next time Dick finds himself being truthful was when he visited Jason after a long night of patrol and in the midst of a silent period Dick then said;

‘You’re amazing Jason. Bruce doesn’t know what he’s talking about, he never did when it came to us Robins, using one of us as a frame of reference for everyone else isn’t fair but you are my friend, my brother and I am so proud of you. You are not a failure, you’re anything but one.’ Jason sat silent the entire time and after Dick had finished he made a noise from the back of his throat, a small smile gracing his face as he looked out over the streets of Gotham, reaching out to pat Dick on the shoulder and said. ‘Thanks man.’

Dick always cared deeply for Jason, seeing him as his little brother and would gladly stand in his corner no matter what, even if he was wrong because that was what older siblings did. Dick never shied away from how deeply he felt agonising pain when he though he had lost his little brother and confronted Bruce about the entire thing, enraged and grieving simultaneously. Now whenever he caught wind of what Jason was doing as red hood, he can’t help but smile knowing his brother was doing just fine, but would always make it known that he was just a phone call away.

Dick knew Alfred wasn’t going to bite his head off for saying that he didn’t like something but would instead ask how he could better it for his taste. So even if Dick did say anything about one of Alfred’s recipe, he knows Alfred would be more than understanding. However it was an unspoken rule amongst him and his siblings that they’d eat anything and everything Alfred made them without a single complaint unless it was necessary.

They all love that man too much to ever say anything negative about his cooking.

Damian would hate being forced to speak nothing but the truth.

He’d really hate it as being blunt and opinionated was how he always was and so being open and honest wasn’t his forte and it felt wrong in a sense due to it feeling as though he was put in a position of vulnerability.

He hates it even more when he finds himself confessing to all the things that he liked and or found remotely interesting about you whenever you were near, it felt as though someone was pupating him to say these things when deep down he knew they were how he genuinely felt but was too deep in denial to admit this to himself.

‘How do I look?’ You innocently asked.

‘Breathtaking like you always do so seamlessly.’ Damian replied without hesitation before looking up from his sketchbook once realisation hit him, only to see that you were already looking at him with wide eyes.

‘You mean that?’ You said, wanting to know whether or not you heard him properly.

‘Of course.’ Damian said and when he felt his mouth open, he tried to close it but it seemed as though his body had a mind of his own as he found himself continuing to speak. ‘On many occasions have I spent thinking you were naturally breathtaking and have thought so for many more on top of that to the point you are my one sole muse.’ He finished and it wasn’t long before you were planning your first date together.

Damian knew this wouldn’t be the first time he was going to be forced to speak the truth and the second time came in him actually complimenting Tim on his smarts and combat prowess, something that he’d rather drink pure poison before ever admitting out of pride.

‘Tt. Don’t sell yourself short Drake, you’re a competent Robin and an exceptional detective.’ He’d say when it was just him and Tim in the Batcave and immediately regrets it and makes him swear to secrecy, obviously this doesn’t last long after the period of speaking truthfully wears off and Damian goes back to being his blunt, straightforward, unapologetic self.

Damian loves Alfred’s cooking, but all of his cooking weren’t Damian’s favourite and while he wouldn’t hesitate to tell others how he felt, he didn’t feel the same when it came to Alfred’s cooking despite the man being nothing but kind and open minded.

So if he ever were to speak about his least favourite food Alfred had ever made and even when Alfred was more then accepting of his opinion, Damian would try to help Alfred however he could in return for his comments about his cooking. Alfred was probably one person he’d never want to hurt with his words.

[crushmeeren]

࿐ it’s kenma’s turn! eijirou’s version can be found here.

⋆ ⬪ happy halloween!!! that’s a wrap everyone! i hope you all enjoyed my kinktober event, although i am a little relieved it’s over. this one isn’t too long, i wanted to end it with some shortish and to the point.

࿐ master list link ࿐ kinktober master list

⋆ ⬪ KINKS/STUFF INCLUDED ࿐ choking, biting/marking, praise kink, rough sex, anal sex, kind of enemies to lovers? it’s a fast paced transition tho, reader is quite feisty in this.

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ short summary ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Kenma, according to you, is the laziest and worst incubus you’ve ever worked with. As a succubus, you work twice as hard as he does and still he ends up wreaking more havoc and causing such an insane amount of psychological damage that it causes your blood to boil. When you confront him about it, Kenma’s apathetic as usual. Then he shows you why he wears the crown. What a fool you were.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Kenma this, Kenma that, fucking blah blah Kenma.

The name is seared into your memory at this point, always falling from the mouth of your tight ass boss. “Oh, why can’t you be more like him?”, or “Kenma is our best incubus, why don’t you take notes on how he operates?”

How could you be expected to compete with someone who does no wrong?

You’ve come home with makeup smudged and your body aching more times than you can count, but Kenma never has a hair out of place. The enticing image of your claws slicing through Kenma’s face has your stomach squirming with bloodlust, but a sharp snap close to your ear forces the daydream to drift away.

You come back to the present, shifting your bored expression towards your boss instead burning a hole in the wall. He’s pursing dry and cracked lips, clenching his fists tightly on top of a run down, shabby desk.

There’s not much interior design in hell, after all.

“Did you hear a word I said?”

“Nope.” The tap, tap of your nails on the metal chair rings out and your bosses eyebrow twitches. You’d been tuning out all the nonsense he’d been spewing because you really don’t need another bullshit lecture on how to fuck someone and draw out their energy properly.

He squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose, visibly restraining himself from leaping over the desk to strangle you. When his eyes flash back open they’re glowing.

“Why can’t you be more like Kenma?”

Red clouds your vision, expression thunderous. “Don’t you fucking dare say that to me!” Your tail coils tightly behind you as you slam a hand down onto his desk.

Your boss stares at you, unimpressed and unconcerned at your explosive attitude.

“Do we have to do this every single time?” He asks, the weight of the world seemingly pressing down on his shoulders. He sets his elbows on the desk and leans his face into his hands.

“Yes!” You hiss, baring sharp teeth as you lean forward. “You never fucking take me seriously! Stop telling me to be like Kenma! He’s lazy and an asshole!” You spit his name, fury burning brighter as your boss treats you like a child that needs to be scolded. A low rumble starts up in the back of his throat.

A knock on the door interrupts your one sided argument. Whoever it is doesn’t wait for a response before they’re waltzing inside.

“Sure, yeah just come in,” your boss mutters sarcastically, position unchanged. A prickle runs down your spine and you stiffen in your seat when a familiar spicy cinnamon scent floods your nose.

“I’m hurt,” Kenma says in a flat, if not slightly amused tone of voice. “I’m not an asshole.” He doesn’t even attempt to defend himself against the accusation that he’s lazy and your blood boils.

Your boss perks up immediately when he recognizes the voice and your razor like teeth grind into dust from the force of your clenched jaw. Of course he’d be happy the second his precious lap dog shows his face.

“Kenma! What can I do for you?”

You snort in disbelief, crossing your arms over your chest and your boss shoots you a look of warning.

“I needed to speak with you about my next assignment.”

“Of course! Have a seat, we were just finishing up.”

The dismissal is obvious, but you make sure you glare with the force of a thousand suns at your boss as you rise to your feet. The demon cowers underneath the heat of it. You scoff, every muscle tensed as you whip around.

Kenma’s posture is loose and casual, the tiniest smirk directed at you as he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket. His attire suggests he hasn’t recently been out on assignment. Typical. You muster the iciest expression you’re capable of when you look at the incubus, tail flicking agitatedly as you stomp forward.

You refuse to speak to Kenma, roughly shoulder checking him on your way to the door. Your boss calls out a reprimand at your back but you ignore him too and slam the door shut with enough strength to rattle the frame.

Fucking Kenma.

You’re going to give him a piece of your mind the next time you see that pathetic excuse for an incubus.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Turns out, you don’t have to wait long to run into him again.

Generally, you avoid Kenma when you’re both residing at the tower, not keen on running into him, but tonight you’ve gotten unlucky enough to spot him at a bar.

You’d gone topside for the evening, desperately in need of a night to yourself. You’re eager to blow off steam, since your boss’s head is shoved so far up your ass that he can see out your mouth. You search for someone, boy, girl, and anyone in between, to take home and drain dry of their sexual energy.

The bar you wandered into is on the popular side of town. The music doesn’t hurt your ears, and you’ve managed to dance with a few girls here and a few guys there, but none of them get your blood pumping.

You sigh through your nose, shoulders drooping, and decide it’s the best time for a break and head for the bar. Despite what may swirl around the rumor mill, you can get a buzz if you drink enough. You’re pleasantly loose limbed and relaxed when suddenly you freeze, a shock jolting you when you notice the absolute last person you want to see nursing a beer at the bar.

Your body flushes hot within the second, the human disguise you’ve conjured threatening to shimmer and disappear. Your control wavers, tail itching to break free. You steady yourself with a breath, nails digging harshly into your palms to ground yourself. Another deep breath in, a long exhale out, and then your marching towards the incubus.

You come to a stop at the empty seat next to him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You ask hotly.

Kenma barely spares you a glance. “The same as you, I suppose.” He takes another long sip of his beer, and you can smell the bitter scent, stomach rolling.

“Go the hell away, Kenma.”

He sets his drink down and raises a dark eyebrow. “You don’t own the bar, do you?”

“No,” you grind out, shoulders hiking to your ears. “I was here first.” It’s petty and childish, the urge to stomp your foot growing stronger by the second.

Kenma snorts. “Sure, but there’s enough room for both of us to play.”

His apathetic attitude infuriates you even further, and you raise your hand to point an angry finger at him. Your mouth opens to curse him to hell but he beats you to the punch.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He shifts his head to stare at you, cat like eyes unwavering. His offer is so out of left field that your jaw snaps shut, lips pursing and mouth opening once more as you try to form a response. Your hand drops lamely to your side and you shift from foot to foot.

“You, wait — a drink? What?”

“A drink,” he says slowly as if talking to a child, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Can I buy you one?”

You blink a few times in shock, too confused to be angry by the insulting tone.

“Why?” You drag out the word impatiently. “We hate each other.”

“You hate me. Not the other way around.”

Okay, what the fuck?

“You don’t hate me?” You ask in disbelief, eyeing him warily.

“Nope.” He pops the p and resumes drinking his beer. “So, do you want a drink or not? I can find someone else to offer it to, if you don’t want it.”

You stay silent a moment longer, unsure if he’s making fun of you or not. You wrack your brain to try remember a time he’s ever been outwardly rude to you, like you’ve done to him. There’s an anchor of dread in your stomach when you come up short.

Wordlessly, you slide into the stool next him and order a cocktail, chin raised high. You blame your previous drinking tonight on the way you reluctantly let your guard drop, momentarily allowing your anger to fade. You drink silently for a while, awkward on all accounts until Kenma randomly brings up something about your boss that reignites your rage.

“Yeah well, our boss is a fucking idiot. He never trusts me enough to send me on high priority assignments. Only you,” you sneer, turning in your seat to face Kenma. He mirrors your position. “It must have been a mistake when I got sent on this last one. I finally got something worthwhile and I took it before boss ripped it away from me!”

Kenma stares at you unblinking, contemplating something. “Hmm, no, I recommended you.”

For the second time tonight Kenma has left you dumbfounded.

“What does that mean?”

Kenma shrugs. “Exactly what it sounds like.”

“You, of all people, talked me up to the boss? Why would you do that?” You ask incredulously.

“I thought we already established that the hatred between us is one sided.”

Your nostrils flare, shame blistering your cheeks. “Fucking hell you’re annoying. Do you have a crush on me or something?” You mutter, trying very hard to deflect the kindness he’s showing you.

Kenma snickers at your obvious embarrassment. “You do interest me, and you’re hot. It works out,” he says casually, tilting his head back and downing the rest of his fifth beer in one long drink.

You hate yourself when your body buzzes white hot in response. You really hate yourself for letting your gaze linger on the bobbing of his throat as he swallows, the way the barest hint of his pale collarbones peak out of his shirt, teasing at what could be hidden underneath.

Kenma catches your interested stare, smirking and winking at you. You avert your gaze, face aflame and a rich, thick heat starting to pool in your belly.

“How the fuck are you the best incubus,” you complain, staring a hole into the bar top, weakly insulting your incubus counterpart. You startle when Kenma’s slender fingers grip your chin, gently guiding you to lock eyes with him. His eyelids lower a bit, a soft peachy blush blossoming on his cheeks as his tongue pokes out to wet his bottom lip.

Kenma pushes himself into your personal space like he has a right to be there, warm breath tickling your face when he speaks.

“Let me show you why I wear the crown.”

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Razor sharp teeth sink into the muscle just below your collarbone, Kenma’s jaw locking solidly onto you while you curse and wiggle underneath him. The low warning rumble in his throat stills you.

Kenma’s hands rest on your hips, thumbs rubbing soothingly over the bone there. He unlocks his jaw and licks over the sluggishly bleeding wound. Then he shifts his attention to the other side. You whimper softly when he bites down, eyes fluttering shut and hands curling to fist the sheets below.

He’s pumping your bloodstream full of his saliva, knowing full well it’s going to heighten the pleasure of each sensation he’ll bring you. Your shoulders and collarbones are littered with marks, the pain lessening with each one. You tilt your head, Kenma trailing soft kisses up the side of your throat and over your jawline, coaxing a sweet moan out of you.

“Okay?” He murmurs, leaning back to sit on his calves, sliding a warm hand up your inner thigh. His fingers tickle the sensitive crease that connects there and you shiver. You nod, head heavy in the best kind of way, lids halfway to shutting.

You hum and spread your legs wider so he can get closer. “M’feeling really good Kenma,” you say with a dopey smile and his expression turns fond. His fingers barely touch your clit and your breath hitches, long tail flicking out and curling in on itself where it rests beside you. Kenma’s own tails swishes leisurely behind him, a noise of approval building in the back of his throat.

Two slender fingers spread the lips of your slick pussy before they slip inside with no resistance, curling upwards and brushing the pads of them over your g-spot. Kenma kept his nails short so he wouldn’t hurt you. Your eyes roll back, spine arching, and your hands coming up to fist the pillow supporting your head.

“Kenma,” you gasp, rolling your hips to match the lazy push and draw back of his fingers, coaxing your orgasm to the surface with ease.

“I know baby, your pretty little head’s filled with cotton, isn’t it?” He coos, bringing the thumb of his free hand down to circle your clit. “Fuck, look at you. You tighten up so sweetly around my fingers.” Kenma’s tail makes its presence known, snaking around your thigh and squeezing. The incubus leans forward then, sucking your nipple between his lips.

His teeth tug gently and the force of your orgasm takes you by surprise, stealing your breath and forcing out a cry of his name. Kenma doesn’t let go, flicking your nipple with his tongue until you start to come back down to earth. Kenma frees you with a pop, taking his hand from your clit and curling it around your throat.

He erases the space between you, lips a hairs width away from meeting, hand flexing against the sides of your throat and fingers kissing your g-spot again.

“Give me another one pretty thing,” he murmurs, low voice husky to your ears.

Kenma’s able to pull two more out of you before he’s satisfied. It’s a blur as he clutches at the backs of your knees, one hand sticky and heated, before he pushes until your kneecaps are touching the sheets near your arms. Your thoughts grow fuzzier as Kenma rises to his knees, balancing his weight so he can steady the head of his cock against you.

He stretches you out with one sharp thrust.

The angle slams the tip of cock into where it feels the best, ripping a wail from your chest as you cling to his forearms. He draws his hips back halfway, snapping them forward and filling you out, using his weight to his advantage and pounding you into the mattress.

“Kenma! Fuck! Oh my god, please!” You wail, unsure what you’re begging him for, sharp nails piercing his forearms. Kenma hisses, but otherwise doesn’t react to the pain. He hums distractedly, focusing on making your brain melt out your ears.

Kenma fucks you through one orgasm and straight into another, the muscles in your lower belly taut as a bow while your pussy clings to him. The hot, slick friction his cock creates causes your focus to deteriorate quickly. All the blood in your body pools in your cheeks, head pounding in time with your heartbeat as the pleasure continues to swell until you can’t handle it anymore.

A sharp smacking sound rings out when your hand makes contact with his toned stomach, pushing at the flexing muscles and begging him to give you a break.

“No more, huh? What, is your poor pussy to sore?” He teases, huffing steadily and slowing the roll of his hips. “Who’s the lazy one now?” Kenma pulls out suddenly, manhandling you onto your stomach, lifting your ass into the air and shoving your face in the sheets.

“Kenma, I can’t,” you plead, pussy raw and aching. You clench up when a finger circles your rim, whining loudly as your toes curl.

“How about I fuck your ass then, pillow princess. I bet you’re so tight,” he muses, smoothly dipping the tip of his finger inside you and pulling it back out. With a body made for sex, you don’t need much prep.

“Just, fuck, just be gentle, please.”

Kenma laughs, finger disappearing completely. “Nah, I told you I was going to show you why I’m the king. You know what to say if you want this to end.”

With that, the slick, blunt tip of his cock slides over your rim, catching and allowing Kenma to press forward until he bottoms out. The stretch punches the wind from your lungs, heat searing up your spine.

Your claws rip the sheets, hissing when Kenma grips the base of your tail tightly, using it to pull you back into each steady push of his hips. You’re so full, but so empty, pussy clenching uselessly around nothing. Kenma’s hips continue to bounce off your ass, rim tightening and stretching with each glide of his cock.

Your nerves are frayed, every touch overwhelming. A thousand tiny needles are embedded in Kenma’s palm when he strikes your ass, the searing heat sending a throb of heat through your pelvis. A looming pressure builds behind your bellybutton, pushing on your bladder and your rim starts to flutter.

“Kenma,” you choke out, grasping at the sheets to anchor yourself and help you rock backwards to meet his thrusts.

“What is it baby?” His voice is strained, fingers tightening around your tail. His other hand rests on your tailbone, guiding your movements.

“You’re gonna make me cum!” you warn through your teeth.

“Then fucking do it.”

Your heart jumps to your throat as the tension snaps, heat flooding your veins. Your tail coils unyielding around Kenma’s wrist. Small, choked off whimpers spilling from your lips.

Kenma’s pace turns jerky, thrusting twice more before he swiftly pulls out. His broken moan fills the air you, something warm covering your ass and lower back. He whimpers your name, breathing hard as you collapse onto your belly. You can’t think straight, body pushed to the limit.

You barely register a scratchy material wiping you clean, or being rolled onto your back. Kenma playfully pokes you in the ribs and you groan, batting his hand away and cracking your eyes open. He laughs, his knowing smile softening his sharp features.

“I didn’t take you as the type to stay the night after sex,” he teases, settling down next to you.

“Yeah well, I can’t use my legs, so I’m staying.”

Kenma exhales sharply through his nose. “Then you have to admit that I’m the best.” Kenma bodily shifts you onto your side, arm snaking around your waist and tugging you to his chest. His skin is sticky and sweaty, pulse still thundering against his sternum.

You blindly search for his soft blanket, pulling it up over you both and snuggle further into the furnace of his embrace.

“I think I’m going to need a few more demonstrations before I admit to anything.” Kenma’s rhythmic breathing is lulling you to sleep.

Kenma sleepily agrees, and in the middle of the night, he wakes you up to prove himself again. You let him show you over and over until you’re both addicted to one another.

Only then do you admit he’s the best. Reluctantly.

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

Lucifer's Fun

MDNI 18+, Dom Lucifer, sub afab reader, gender neutral, racially ambiguous, fuck machine use, vibrator use, overstimulation, dirty talk, degradation, reader is fucked silly, mentions of free-use, sexual punishment, sadomasochism

Lucifer didn't like distractions while he worked but he decided to make an exception for you just this once. After all, you looked so pretty on all fours getting your pussy fucked open by the toy you hid from him he attached to an investment he had yet to use until now. The machine hummed and squeaked with every thrust of the dildo into your weeping hole. The vibrator taped against your clit hummed an excruciating song of promised punishment you knew was coming when Lucifer caught you with your toys. The man responsible for your predicament simply rested his leather shoes on your back as he lazily looked over some contracts.

Your pussy made sick squelching sounds thanks in part to the gushing wetness from your previous orgasms at the hands of the cruel machine. Your screams and groans remained locked away behind a red ball strapped into your mouth with black leather straps. The past couple of hours have been utter blissful torture. At times you'd thought your body had gone numb from Lucifer's punishment but then with a couple remote controls, he'd change the speed and rhythm of the machine and vibrator attacking you.

"You should have known better," Lucifer mused looking at you from over his glasses. "I told you that I am the only one to touch you and yet you stuff yourself full of plastic cocks like some common whore." Lucifer pushes down on your back with the heels of his leather oxfords. You could only groan under his cruel treatment. "Maybe that's how you want to be treated, hm?" Lucifer purred.

"I could set you out front of the House of Lamentation just like this and let whoever comes along use you how they please. How does that sound, pet?"

You heard Lucifer chuckle at your strangled noises of disapproval and the way you pitifully shook your head. "But I thought you didn't care who or what used your holes? You don't want me to leave you outside for any demon to come knock up?" Lucifer asked in a mocking tone. You turned your head to look at the Avatar of Pride with overwhelming tears of pleasure blooming in your eyes. You vigorously shook your head hoping to earn Lucifer's pity.

"Then how come I keep catching you toying with your cunt like an insatiable slut?" Lucifer demanded as he turned up the intensity on both the vibrator and the fuck machine. You screamed behind your gag as you were forced to drop onto one of your elbows. The toy slid through your sloppy cunt with such ease as it carved its form into your walls.

"Poor little human," Lucifer mocked. You heard his belt unbuckle and the zipper of his pants. When you looked back at your lover his cock was firmly in the grip of his leather glove. The uncut tip of his manhood wept precum over his foreskin. His pale member was flushed red with arousal at the sight of you taking your punishment so well. Seeing Lucifer start to stroke himself at the sight of you made another gush of wetness run through your cunt. You could feel yourself starting to drool around your gag at the burning need to have his cock in your throat.

You moaned behind your gag trying to utter Lucifer's name to little success. Your brain was so lost to the torturous pleasure he brought to you that you could only make simple moaning noises. "Is my pet still needy?" Lucifer mocked taking his time running his fist up and down his swollen penis. "After all this, you're still a simple slut whose only purpose is to swallow cock." You nodded eagerly hoping to be able to finally take him in any one of your needy holes. Lucifer groaned your name so thoroughly aroused at your obedience.

"Is this really what it takes to get you to listen?" Lucifer growled as he turned the machine up to its highest setting. He removed his feet from your back as your body jerked with the power with which the machine fucked the faux cock into your slopping pussy. Lucifer's office was filled with the sounds of the slapping sounds of your wet cunt mixed with the mechanical hums of the toys he used against you. Your upper body collapsed onto the floor as your pussy was hung off of the dildo. The fuck machine became the only thing to keep your body from fully collapsing onto the ground. The only noises that came from your mouth were pitiful whines of pleasurable agony. Your brain felt like static with the only thoughts running through it being images of Lucifer's cock destroying whatever was left of you.

"Fuck, you look so beautiful like this," you heard Lucifer growl. His voice felt so far away in your blissed-out state yet you could hear the unmistakable moans and heavy breathing leaving his body. "I should keep you like this. Fucked stupid with no other purpose other than to cum all over yourself." You could feel a puddle of drool make itself known against your cheek as your own cum leaked down your inner thighs. Your body jostled back and forth at the will of the fuck machine. Lucifer continued to grip his cock in a choking embrace at the sight of your pathetic body.

"I'm going to cum all over you so you know who you belong to," Lucifer said in a deep growl. You barely registered what he had said before you felt the ropes of hot, sticky cum slather your body. It dripped down your back and off onto the floor. You felt so utterly pathetic at Lucifer's treatment but for some reason that just made your umpteenth orgasm that much more intense. Another spray of squirt gushed out of your messy cunt for what felt like the hundredth time. You wailed behind your gag as Lucifer maxed out the vibrations of the vibrator attached to your clit. "Now, " Lucifer hummed readjusting his pants and making himself presentable. "Diavolo has been invited over to go review some paperwork and have tea and I'd appreciate it if you were on your best behavior for him."

Your brain could only make out half of what Lucifer had said and you could only whine in confusion. "Poor little human," Lucifer mocked as he crouched by your head to pet your hair, "You just have to stay like this while Diavolo and I discuss matters too big for your little brain, okay?" You moaned at the gentle contact Lucifer allowed you to have. "Don't worry dear," Lucifer said mockingly gently, "You just stay right where you are."

Down the hall, you could hear the low humming of voices coming towards Lucifer's office.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hello! Glad you took some days to rest its always good to take a well deserved break!

This occur after reader saved dog day from those mini critters or in that area near the cell dog day was, you're free to chose!

Dog day reacting to waking up and seeing reader is no longer resting beside/near him like they were dpig a few hours ago and strts to think the worst things had happened, only to then find reader just sat down outside looking at a picture of the smilling critters

Take as much time you need to make this no need to rush!

Nostalgia.

Note || RAAAHH. Humans are cute, you are too you know?

WC || 940

Sypnosis || He thought the worst, yet it seemed to be disproved at the sight of you holding memories.

Nightmarish, garish and all around very bloody. He didn’t want to slow down, yet his body was screaming at him to slow down, but he couldn’t afford to stop. DogDay would die if he did, something was coming straight for him and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stick around and find that out. 

“Oh gods, you have to be kiddin’ me.” DogDay gasped, hands resting upon his knees as his breath felt strained and strangled all at the same time. He wasn’t prepared, less then ready to be dealing with this. DogDay’s body was on edge, whatever – whoever – was chasing him, getting closer with every second possible on the clock.

The clock ticked, ringing in his ears. 

He was running out of time, he needed to jump and hide somewhere sufficient.

DogDay sighed once more, taking a deep breath and jumping into the masses of desecration and biting down on the iron metallic scent of blood and wafting metal of every vein and vent. He was overwhelmed with adrenaline and dizziness.

A roar resounded throughout the hallway, of which it had startled DogDay. He flinched, then began to run. 

Running far and fast, as fast as he can. DogDay felt tormented, why was that? Why was he running? So much had happened, too many things he cannot remember. Suddenly he felt a shadowed claw wrap around his waist.

Was this it? He really was gonna die after he had succeeded in surviving so long, maybe this was his punishment for surviving, for everything. 

No. No. No. NO!

DogDay jolted from where he laid, eyes adjusting to the location. He looked around to remember where he was, seeing the familiar desolate hallways and the small building he was in. An internal sigh escaped his method of silence, DogDay was okay, he was fine. 

Save for the fact he had completely new legs now after such a long time, that was luckily all thanks to you of course. 

Wait, where are you? 

“Angel?” He spoke out, hoping to get a response. DogDay’s chest tightened, recurring memories that he had lamented coming back to torment him. What happened to you? Did you get hurt? Did CatNap take you?

Oh he sincerely needed to find out, DogDay would be damned if he lost someone again. Especially after the fact that you saved him, he hasn’t done enough in return for that action of genuine kindness and generosity. DogDay hurried around, looking around in every inch and every nook and cranny that he could find, “Sweetheart?” He coughed, wincing as he clutched his side as he still felt the aftereffects of all those wounds he sustained over a long period of time. 

Finally he didn’t have to search anymore, seeing as how you were only outside, sitting against the wall as you clutched a strange picture that he couldn’t make out at his distance.

You turned, feeling his presence. Almost slightly, you flinched, seeing as how DogDay was clutching onto the doorway for support in standing. “DogDay, you're awake! Nice nap I assume?” To that, he shrugged, answering with an ambiguous tune, “Nice.. to put it simply I suppose.” 

Then a strange and sudden awkwardness took over the atmosphere for a few pressing moments, deciding to break it he had spoken up again as he sat down beside you, “What’s that your holding Angel?” You held up the picture in a questioning manner, to which he had motioned yes, he was talking about that picture in particular.

“Dunno if you wanna go down memory lane for this.” You smile, half-heartedly transformed into a smirk. DogDay had groaned audibly, patting your head within a playful gesture. You bit the inside of your cheek, chewing on it for a minute before you finally decided to show him.

“These guys, I missed ‘em..” You recounted with a mournful tune. DogDay’s white pupils slid down, widening as if he was expressing emotion. You held no reaction whatsoever as you handed him the picture.

“Smiling Critters…”

He scoffed lightheartedly, not demeaning in any which way. DogDay was glad in a sense that you found a picture of them, their faces were something he had started to forget. You laid your head on his side, feeling the tiredness weigh down your bones.

“Apparently there is a saying that naps don’t help cause the soul is tired.” He perked up at this, interested at the sudden subject of the quote you brought up. DogDay felt inebriated, spiteful at the harsh memories, but in a sense of rejuvenation he had felt hopeful. “I guess, that puts an explanation to what I feel.” Deliberated senses of gas, metal and blood may be what remain, but there can be hope to search for. 

“What makes you say this?” DogDay wondered, very interested in your inquisitive mind. You shrugged a little, very noticeable but amicable at best. “You ain’t at peace DogDay..”

His white pupils slid over to you, suddenly feeling exposed by this newfound sentiment. “Earlier I thought a noise I heard was a random one, but now I know that it was you. Having a nightmare.” You sighed, eyes closing as you felt guilt for not checking before.

DogDay felt himself smiling a little, a special recognition. “Nightmares are nightmares… I am just glad you aren’t hurt anyway.” You scoffed at him, elbowing into his side. To which he rubbed his side with an audible hey! 

You giggle at him, letting your arms lay to rest, to which his own arms did too. For a moment, reflecting on the past doesn’t hurt too badly.

So as long you two aren’t lost anymore.

[Taglist: @everythingnicen0nnie ] {want to join the Taglist next time I post a writing piece? Let me know!}

[gabbytheplatypus]

Kiss cam

In disbelief, Jake stared at the kiss cam, its lens squarely focused on him and his girlfriend, who was happily chatting away with her friend over the phone. He knew she wasn't interested in sports at all, yet she had joined him and his friends to watch the event. Now, she was on her phone the entire time, which he considered very rude. She was talking so loudly that everyone around them was beginning to stare. And now, because of that stupid kiss cam, they had become the center of attention.

Softly, Jake nudged her, but she ignored him. He shook his head, hoping the camera would move on. But it remained fixed on them. "Babe—" he began.

"Shut up for a second, Jake," she snapped, her voice cutting through the noise of the stadium like a knife. He heard his friends on his other side suck in their breath, and he turned to glare at them. They were only making an already embarrassing situation worse.

Bradley leaned over, "If you wanted someone to boss you around, you could've just asked me." Jake shot him a pointed look, but couldn't help but grin slightly. The small comment had at least somewhat eased his nerves.

"Babe, look, please—" he tried again, desperation creeping into his voice, wanting to just get over with it.

"Jake, this is important. Kate just broke up with her boyfriend," she interrupted, her eyes still glued to her phone.

"Can't you deal with that later?" He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. His patience was wearing thin.

"No. Now shut up."

Relief washed over him when the kiss cam finally moved to another couple, a nice-looking elderly pair who kissed, smiled, and waved at the camera. His shoulders slumped as he exhaled. Maybe this day wouldn't get any worse. Except, of course, it did.

The kiss cam zoomed back in on them. He heard Phoenix and Coyote whispering to each other but couldn't care less. He was stressed. Usually, he was good at dealing with pressure—as a fighter pilot, he had to be—but all the stares made him uncomfortable. He was seconds away from standing up, finding whoever was responsible for the camera, and strangling that person with his own hands.

"Babe—"

"How are you so annoying, Jake?" she shot back, her tone full of irritation. A gasp sounded from behind him, and the people around them stared in shock. His girlfriend either didn't notice or didn't care.

This whole situation was starting to make him worry if he would get his first gray hair that day.

Bradley leaned in again, "You know Jake, if this doesn't work out, I think I know a guy who might be interested." But Jake chose to ignore him yet again.

Mercifully, the kiss cam switched to another couple. The man held a sign that read, "She's my sister," sending laughter through the crowd. The cam then moved on to Hangman and his girlfriend yet again. Jake wanted to disappear. Maybe he could just throw himself off the building.

He shook his head and crossed his arms, feeling utterly defeated. Then, suddenly, a hand was at his jaw, turning his head to the side. He felt soft lips on his, and a mustache rubbed against his skin. His eyes closed instinctively, then opened in confusion. Firstly, his girlfriend didn’t have a mustache, and secondly, she didn’t kiss nearly as well as this person did.

His skin prickled with electricity as he stared at Bradley, who held his chin while kissing him like his life depended on it. Slowly, Jake's eyes closed again, and he kissed back, snaking his arms around the other man's neck. One of his hands wandered into Bradley's hair, and he heard him gasp when he slightly tugged at his hair, the noise making him smirk a little.

His girlfriend punching him brought him back to reality. He stared at her in shock as she went to slap him again, but Rooster caught her hand. She stood up and walked away in a huff, but as much as Jake wanted to feel bad for her, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when the man next to him was kissing him again, the kiss cam long gone, and the crowd clapping.

It felt like a movie. Phoenix and Coyote high-fived each other. Jake couldn't bring himself to be mad. Not while he was kissed with such passion that the rest of the world faded away.

As they finally pulled apart, Bradley's eyes searched Jake's. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a soft murmur that only Jake could hear.

Jake nodded, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. "Yeah. More than okay."

Bradley smiled, his hand lingering on Jake's cheek. "Good."

Jake glanced around, noticing the amused and approving glances from their friends and the crowd. Slowly his body relaxed, all tension fading away from his body.

"Let's get out of here," Bradley suggested, his voice full of promise.

Jake didn't need to be asked twice. He stood up, his hand still entwined with Bradley's, and they made their way out of the stadium, not caring in the slightest that the match wasn't even finished yet.

[artists-ally]

{Train Wreck} Cassian!sister x Azriel AU {Pt. 1}

Man it feels good to be back with this series again. If you're wondering why the title feels familiar, you might have read this before. I decided I wanted to pick it back up again, but I needed to make a few changes. So, here is the revised version of Train Wreck!! Feel free to re-read, there are some new things here and there, so it's definitely worth it!! Anyway, enjoy my loves! Part 2 will be up soon!! Title and series inspired by this song!

Word Count: 8,587

Warnings: angst, language, traumatized characters (will come into play later in the series, you've been warned now), abandonment,

Tagging: @thelov3lybookworm @needylilgal022 @librafairy @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @sarawritestories @claireswritingcorner @dawneternal @ninthcircleofprythian @blessthepizzaman @lady-of-tearshed @pit-and-the-pen

Summary: After six years, this is the first time Ira and her brother Cassian have been in the same room. Under less than ideal circumstances, they're forced to meet again. Will Ira be able to forgive Cassian for the way he left things? Will she be able to trust the new friends she makes? Will she ever be able to open up to her brothers hot-shot best friend?

~~~~~

“He’s going to say no.” No response from the peanut gallery in the front seat. “Seriously, he’s not going to be okay with this. You might as well let me out of the car now.”

“Will you just be quiet?” Arthur snapped, eyes locking with mine from the rearview mirror. “Need I remind you that this is your fault. You’ve left us with no other option.”

“I told you, it wasn’t me. That was–” “Cal, I remember the story. And that’s all that it is. A story, a fabrication that Arthur and I are no longer going to be entangled in. You may be able to fool the police with that lie, but you can’t fool us, Ira,” Dana snapped, whirling around to shoot me some daggers. She couldn’t look intimidating if she tried; her face was like a bunny, and every time she frowned it just looked like she smelled something rotten.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. There was no way he was going to take me. We hadn’t spoken in almost six years, I didn’t even know he was alive until three months ago when I heard about his engagement.

Fourteen years of growing up together meant nothing to him, I guess.

The big, riverside house came into view at the end of an equally impressive driveway. A shame for whoever had to go and collect the mail every morning. 

“Stay here, in the car,” Arthur barked. 

I opened the door and got out of the car, kicking a few stones. Man this place was flashy; a big fountain in the circular driveway, a line of cars over by a garage. Not to mention the very obvious multi-million dollar mansion that never seemed to end.

“Lord, give me the strength to not strangle this child,” Arthur sighed, marching to the front door. I snickered, he was always so uptight.

“Not a child, Arthur,” I countered. “I’m fucking twenty years old.”

“Give it a rest, Ira. We’re trying to help you since you clearly don’t understand the basic human morals of being a functioning member of society,” Dana said, opening the trunk, catching a bag as it tumbled from the stack.

“Sorry that I don’t like to conform to the idealistic fantasy that is modern society.” 

Turns out it’s hard to get a job with a criminal record. ‘We can’t hire a liability’ this and ‘we won’t have delinquents running our business’ that. So, I had to get creative with my… places of employment. It had been a fantastic plan. Brilliant even. Just something simple to save a few bucks so I could move out of this god forsaken place. But it got fucked up. Bad. And ended up with me in handcuffs.

This was my punishment. Instead of serving six months in county jail, I’m instead being dumped at this doorstep. Just what I always wanted. Knowing if I ever go back to the shithole I called home I’ll be arrested with a warrant.

I’ll never go in on a deal with someone ever again. 

“Get your stuff,” Dana dropped a few things to the ground. 

I came around the side of the car and heard the door open, and that lovely voice of his ring through my head. 

Great. This is going to go fantastic.

“Arthur? W-What are you doing here?” he said, a hiccup to his voice. 

“Cassian, good to see you,” the old man grinned, extending his hand. I watched through the windows of the van, saw Cassian stare at Arthurs hand and do nothing with it. “We uhh… we have something for you.”

“I don’t understand. How’d you find me?”

I could hear the crunch of gravel and I knew what was about to happen. Any second now I was about to come face to face with the douchebag I was dreading. I won’t lie, some small, juvenile part of me wished for him to be happy to see me. But I know it’s not gonna happen. 

“Dana? What the fuck is going on? Why are you here? How did you-”

“She’s not the surprise, Cass,” Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and walked to the back of the car. I didn’t miss the way he shuddered. 

There was a sharp yank on my elbow and I was pulled from the safety of my hiding spot. I jerked away from his grip, fixing the sleeve on my favorite jacket. Then I looked up. Fuck he’s…

“Ira…” He blinked several times, as if he could ever mistake me for someone else. Then I watched the color drain from his face. “It’s uhh… it’s been a while.” “Don’t give me that shit,” I couldn’t be bothered to be pleasant. Nothing about this would be fucking pleasant.

Cassian looked from Arthur to Dana, then back to me. And to the duffle bag that I was holding on to. I could see him connecting the dots inside his thick-ass skull. “No. No no no–”

“Cassian, she needs someone to look after her,” Dana expressed, chasing after him when he turned around. 

“You cannot just plop her on my doorstep like some stray dog,” Cass shouted, throwing his arms in the air and all around.

“She’s your sister, for fucks sake,” Arthur joined. “She needs you to look after her. Since you left, Ira has done nothing but cause me headaches and gray hairs.”

“I’m right here, you know,” I walked over, throwing the bag down. “And I’d appreciate if you talked about me like a fucking human being, not some gag gift that is always shuffled around Christmas because no one wants it.”

“This is fucking ridiculus. I cannot take you in, Ira. I have too much going on.”

“Some things never change,” I huffed. “See, I told you he wouldn’t give me the time of day. You’re still the same selfish, self-centered asshole you’ve always been.”

“Don’t talk like that to your goddamn brother,” Arthor yelled, spit flying onto my cheek. It took every ounce of self restraint to not rip his fucking throat out. Do not stoop to his level, Ira. Calm the fuck down.

“Cass? What’s going on?” Someone called

Cassian scrunched his face, and my eyes went to the door. A pretty woman was standing there with her arms folded. She had a scowl on her face and narrow eyes. Her long brown hair was braided over her shoulder. 

He heaved a sigh, rubbing his eyes. “Nothing, these people were just leaving.”

“Who’s here?” Another voice, a man, asked next. He was tall, had black hair and really deep blue eyes. They actually looked violet in the light. He was just as tall as Cassian when he came next to his side. The woman, with the most terrifying gaze I’ve ever seen, stood on his other side. 

Cassian muttered something under his breath and rubbed his forehead. “This is Arthur and Dana. My foster parents from years ago. And this… this is my sister.”

“Your sister?” Both of them exclaimed at the same time. 

He didn’t even tell them about me… 

I stand there, shocked to my core. God I knew he was an asshole, but he never once mentioned me? What a fucking–

“They were just–” “Come in come in,” the man stepped down and shook Arthur's hand. “I am Rhysand, call me Rhys. Welcome, we are so pleased to have you. Cassian never mentioned having visitors today.”

“It wasn’t planned,” Dana let out the fakest laugh I’ve ever heard. She was one of those people who, when nervous, laughed after every sentence. I’ve come to despise the sound. 

“No, Rhys,” Cassian shook his head. “They are not welcome. Take your fucking shit, take your goddamn bags, and go. You’re not allowed back here.”

At least that’s something we could both agree on. Neither side of this party wanted to be here. The feeling was mutual. 

“Welp, you heard the man,” I clapped my hands together. “Sorry to disrupt your whole life, to remind you that I still exist but we’ll go now. We all know that you don’t want the responsibility anyway. You didn’t want it six years ago, so why would that change today?”

“You know goddamn well that if I had a choice I would’ve–”

“Okay, okay can we cool it a couple degrees here? Someone better start explaining what is going on,” the man, Rhys, said. He put an arm between Cassian and I. I wasn’t sure when I got in his face, but he might want to remove the barrier before it gets ripped off. 

There were a couple too many silent heart beats, but both of us backed down. Cassian glanced at Arthur and Dana, taking a deep breath. I watched his chest rise and fall. 

In for four, out for four. In for five, out for five…

A lump rose in my throat. 

I could practically hear the conversation between Cassian and Rhys. This silent exchange of glances and body language I’m sure I’d never understand. But then Cassian backed down. Literally, he took a step back, hands on his hips.

“Would you guys like to stay for dinner?” Rhys asked Arthur and Dana.

Dinner? Dinner? Oh fuuuuck no. The four of us haven’t been in a room together for six years, and this crackhead just asked if we wanted to have dinner?

“We would be delighted,” Dana accepted, shooting me a look from head to toe. “Since it’s still midday, would you mind showing us around the property? It looks gorgeous.”

“Certainly,” Rhys says, offering his elbow. Dana latches on like a lost duckling, Arthur trailing after her. 

And then there were two. 

I looked up at the clouds, finding no discernible shapes amongst them. Welp. Here fucking goes nothing. 

“Lovely weather we’re having.”

“Do not,” he pointed at me. “You are not staying here, whenever this little tour is over, you’re gone with them.”

“Gladly.” 

“How the fuck did you guys find me anyway?” His eyes were full of rage. Full of hate. Full of resentment.

“It's amazing the things you can find with twenty bucks and a library computer.”

“You hacked into a library system and stalked me?” Cassian was dumbfounded.

I just smirked. “It wasn’t that hard, don’t give yourself too much credit. Kinda hard to hide somewhere when your face is plastered all over your website. ‘Velaris Hotel and Casino’ has a catchy ring to it, come up with it yourself?”

“I swear to god if I ever see you set foot in my hotel or my casino you’re gonna regret it. I cannot believe you hunted me down.”

“And I cannot believe you abandoned me,” I screamed. Years and years of pent up aggression. Years and years of shower thoughts and late nights wondering what I’d say to him when this moment came. And every single thing I’ve thought of has flown out the fucking window. 

Cassian had the gull to roll his eyes. I almost smacked him across the face. 

“Yo, are you coming inside or what?” A third voice sounded. God, how many people live in this fucking house?

A petite, blonde girl was in the doorway, her eyes bouncing between us. 

“Well? You gonna invite me in or is that privilege only reserved for Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb?” I asked, rocking back and forth on my heels. 

He looked me head to toe, and I got that same feeling as when Dana did it. Just raw disgust. 

“Break anything and I’ll murder you.”

“I’m thinking you’re gonna murder me regardless but eye-eye-captain,” I nodded, following behind his solid frame. 

The house was absolutely massive. I thought shit like this only existed in movies, not… wherever the fuck we were. Certainly not my normal run-down streets I was used to, and certainly not somewhere I ever thought Cassian was going to end up. 

There were cabinets filled with fine dishes and a chandelier hanging in the front entrance. There was a massive living room with the biggest TV and couch I’ve ever seen. Same with the kitchen and the dining room, which was being prepped by maids. Legit, actual maids. For fucks sake could this get any stranger?

Cassian took a left and went up a set of stairs. Classic Cass, running away at any chance he gets. My phone buzzed in my pocket. 

Cal: your a piece of shit I hope you know that

Me: You’re* but it’s fine.

Cal: i cannot believe you fucking left me

Me: Whoops. Sorry bud, I couldn’t stick around. You dicked me over so… guess that karma’s a bitch.

Cal: you know im bad with names

Me: WE USED EACH OTHERS MOTHER FUCKER. HOW HARD CAN IT BE TO FORGET MY NAME

Cal: hopefully pretty fucking easy because i don’t ever want to fucking see you ever again fuck you ira

Me: Right back atcha, asshole.

The only person that I had remotely trusted was out of my life. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I’ve ever had someone to trust. There were plenty of things I never told Cal. Plenty of things I kept hidden for my own safety. It was a strictly need-to-know partnership. I always got a little weary when he started asking too many questions. 

And I learned pretty fucking quick you can’t trust your own blood either. 

Lesson learned. Always. Trust. Your. Gut. 

I trailed behind Dana and Arthur, always five steps behind, close enough to hear, but far enough to make an escape should I need to. 

“Oh, and this is my wife Feyre. My darling, this is Arthur, Dana, and Ira, Cassian’s foster parents and his sister,” Rhys spared me a glance and I scrunched my face. Had Cassian really never bothered to tell them about me?

“Wow,” she had a small smile on her pretty face. Why was everyone here so pretty? “You look just like him. You both have the same eyes. And the same hair.”

“Great, what I’ve always wanted to be. Cassian's clone.” I couldn’t stop the eye roll.

“Ira,” Dana hissed. “Some manners?”

“Thank you, your Royal Highness.”

Dana smacked her forehead, mumbling something about gray hairs and a headache again. I chuckled. I thought it was funny. Especially the curtsy. 

“They are staying for dinner, I’ll let them know to set a few extra plates,” Rhys said.

“Good, I wouldn’t mind getting to know some of Cassian’s family,” Feyre nodded, that small smile still on her lips. We had all meandered outside to look at their yard, at the fountain in the front of the house. 

To no one's surprise, there was a matching one in the back by the pool. 

We all went inside after seeing the yard, but Cassian lingered at the back of the pack. While Rhys took Dana and Arthur around to the kitchen, Cassian yanked me–why was everyone throwing me around?–into a room off to the side. 

“What the fuck did you do this time?” Off to a great start.

“Wow, Cassie-”

“Do not call me that.” 

He used to hate it when I called him Cassie. Especially around his friends because they would make fun of him for days after. 

“No hi, how are you? No ‘it's good to see that my sister is alive and doing well?’” “Clearly not well enough since they dragged you all the way out here.” Cassian’s eyes were full of fire. Looks like he still had that canyon of a line between his bushy-ass-eyebrows when he was upset. 

“You don’t know anything of what I’ve had to endure the last six fucking years without you.”

“What. Did. You. Do?”

I swallowed, I hated when he scolded me. “It wasn’t even that bad. They just gave me community service.” I lied out of my ass.

“Jesus Christ, Ira. What did they want to give you?” Cassian shouted for the whole house to hear. 

“Doesn’t matter, I got myself out of it. Like I always do, without your fucking help. I am capable of taking care of myself without you.”

“Yeah you seem to be doing a swell job,” Cassian looked me up and down, clearly judging my tangled hair and ripped up jeans that I’ve probably had since middle school. “I thought all of this was behind you, Ira. When I left you were-”

“Abandoned. You didn’t leave, you abandoned me.”

Cassian relaxed his shoulders. “You know if I could’ve taken you with me I would’ve.”

“No you wouldn’t have.” I was waiting for him to argue, to deny that fact. But he didn’t, and his haunting silence was enough of an answer. I scoffed, a hard, bitter noise. “You know I don’t blame you, no one would want to take a juvenile delinquent anywhere, especially somewhere like this place.”

“Ira-” “Save you’re fucking breath, Cass. You don’t have to pretend around me, you’ve never had to. Just play along with it for one night and I’ll be gone by the morning. Then I won’t have to be your liability to shoulder ever again.”

I didn’t wait around to see his response. Somewhere deep inside I was actually excited to see him. To meet the person my scrawny, gangly brother had turned into. Now he was… a man. Like a real man. I never thought I’d see him with long hair, but here we are.

He looked healthy. He looked happy. For fucks sake he was engaged. Albeit to the most terrifying looking woman I’ve ever seen, but they looked like they somehow worked.

I found Dana and Arthur with glasses of wine around a large table, two other women that I hadn’t met yet. 

“Ahh, this is her,” Rhys stood up, putting his hands on my shoulders. I immediately shrugged them off. “This is Ira, Cassian’s sister.”

“After all this time,” the pretty blonde woman spoke, looking at me from head to toe. “Who knew Cassian could keep you a secret.”

“You look just like him,” a girl who looked similarly to Feyre said, eyes wide. “I’m Elain. And that’s Morrigan.”

“Mor is fine, dear,” Mor smiled, coming over to me and Rhys. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”

“Not really,” I grimace, but she linked her elbow with mine anyway, dragging me away. “I know that look. You’re overwhelmed. Follow me.”

I thought I was doing a good job at masking it. “You don’t know the fucking half of it.”

“I know Elain said this already, but fuck you look like Cassian,” she laughed, opening a room and revealing a giant bed with a balcony on the other side of some french doors. 

“It gets really fucking annoying,” I rolled my eyes. 

“Understood,” she nodded, not pushing it. “This is my room, you can go out on the balcony if you need some fresh air. Or the bathroom, whatever you want.”

This entire room was as big as the trailer I grew up in. I’ve never seen such a big bed, or a big closet. Jesus, she could have the entirety of Macy’s in there. 

She must’ve caught me staring at it cause she walked over and flipped on the light. “Wanna take a look?”

I snapped back to her, shaking my head. I shoved my hands in my pockets, digging my nails into my palms. Everything in here was so pristine, and I was so… not. I didn’t wanna step anywhere but the hardwood floor.

“I like your jacket, those are some really cool patches,” she smiled, taking a closer look. She reached out and touched one, the blue plaid square fraying at the edges. 

It was a cut out of Cassian’s flannel he left behind…

“Thanks,” I nodded, ignoring the lump in my throat. “I’ve spent a lot of time making them.”

“That's so cool, I have zero creative ability,” Mor sighed as she flopped back on the bed. 

“Neither do I, just something to pass the time, I guess?” I took my hands out of my pockets, digging some grime out from under my nails. 

I could feel her eyes on me. That tension. Knowing she’s about to say something. 

“Look, I know it’s not my place to ask, but–”

“Then don’t ask. Cause I’m not saying shit,” I said bluntly. “Sorry if that's rude but I don’t know you and you clearly don’t know me so… I don’t need the whole ‘I know what you’re going through’ speech. You don’t. No one does. Not even myself.”

Mor nodded, sitting up, propping her arms behind her back. “I’m a little pissed at Cassian too.”

My eyes snapped to hers. “Why?”

“Because he has never once mentioned you? I know some of where he came from, of bouncing around the foster system, about ‘siblings’ but… he never went into detail. I just assumed they were all other kids in the system, you know? If he would’ve mentioned something about you, trust me, we would have not waited this long to be introduced.”

That… makes me feel slightly better. 

“There's not much to know about me. I’m a fucking nuisance to basically everyone. Especially to Cassian, Arthur, and Dana apparently.”

“What the fuck is their problem?” Mor scoffs, folding her arms over her chest. 

“I don’t know. Well– of course I know, it’s me. I’m their fucking problem and they’re trying to get rid of me. I made a dumb fucking decision, but I already did my fucking time. I don’t want anything to do with Cassian so I’m not sure why they’re dragging him into this mess.” 

Mor just looked at me sorrowfully. Fuck, why did I say that? I don’t want her pity. I can’t pretend she cares about me. 

She got off the bed and stood in front of me. She was shorter than I was, but not by a whole lot. 

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. I know it’s fucking awful what they’re making you do, so I don’t blame you for wanting to hide. Help yourself to anything you need.”

And then she was gone. Blonde hair bobbing with her steps. 

This isn’t fucking happening. I’m not in some strange girls room, alone nonetheless, in a different city hundreds of miles away from my familiar streets. I was not about to be abandoned here by Arthur and Dana because they couldn’t stand to take care of me anymore. Not the first, not the second, but the third time I’ve been abandoned. 

Man this is some fucking bullshit. 

I just looked around, envying all of this. It was all hers. All this space, all these things. All these clothes and dresses and jewelry boxes… Why can’t I have these things?

I swallow my tears. I’m so fucking pathetic, why am I about to cry? This is so stupid. Everything about this is stupid. 

I head to the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face. 

A plan flickers to life in my brain. I know for a fact they’re going to sneak out and leave me and all my shit here. But, I’ll just leave in the middle of the night. Who the fuck is gonna stop me? No one. Who cares if I leave? Also no one. 

I won’t make the same mistake that Cassian did. When I disappear, no one will be able to find me.

I took a long look at myself in the mirror. My tired eyes, my tangled, ratty hair. But I could see it… the resemblance between him and I. The same eyes. Same nose. Same hair. I’ll never be able to unsee it now. 

Okay, Ira. just a few more hours and you're done. Done for good. You can change your name and move to Puerto Rico or something. Paris. Wherever you want to go. Well, you don’t know how to speak Spanish or French, which might be important but… that's why they have translating apps, right? You’ll be fine. You always are.

When I got back downstairs, there was a light chatter in the air. But it stopped the second I walked in the room. 

My hood was quick to go over my head. No one spoke as I sat down and poured some water from the pitcher into my glass. 

Thankfully conversation between Rhys, Feyre, and Dana resumed and the silence wasn’t eating me alive. I took out my phone and scrolled through instagram, posting a picture of a lake I had taken on the drive up here. Just like all the other posts, it wouldn’t get any likes. 

“How do all of you know each other?” Arthur asked. 

“Well I met Cassian when we were in high school, as well as our other friend Azriel,” Rhys started. “We made a deal with each other that when we graduate, we would do everything in our power to become the most powerful business owners we could. As you can see, that little pact is working quite well.” “How long have you lived here?” Dana asked next, clearly eyeing up Rhys. 

“For about three years now?” Mor answered, Rhys nodded. “We kind of all found each other on the same paths and stuck together. We sort of own and share everything around here.”

“That is lovely,” Dana smiled. “And what do you do?”

“I own a casino and a neighboring hotel,” Rhys smiled. The moment I had learned about this hotel and casino, alarm bells rang in my ears. The devil's playground, and it was calling my name. Maybe I’d hit up for a few poker hands. “Cassian runs the whole thing, and Azriel kind of has his own thing.”

“Who’s Azriel?” Arthur unfolded the napkin and laid it across his lap. 

“He is our other friend,” Cassian butted in, lips pressed in that line that I remembered. “He’ll be by later.”

“Great,” I rolled my eyes. “More people.”

“Will you please be polite for once in your life?” Dana whisper-yelled, clearly not being discrete enough since everyone looked at us. 

I just shut my mouth, grinding my teeth. It’s not worth it, it's not worth it, I told myself. A few moments later, a large tray with some type of bird on it came out. It was too big to be a chicken, but too small to be a turkey? Duck maybe? I don’t know, it didn’t matter. It was food. 

Everyone around me took their time while I ate like a heathen. Putting a little bit of everything on my plate and scarfing it down like someone was going to take it away from me. Guess I’m taking on the stray dog title pretty well. 

“So, Ira. What do you like to do?” Mor asked me. 

I don't know what part of my hood being pulled over my head gave off ‘I want to be a part of this conversation’, but here we go I guess. 

“I have many hobbies.” I could see Cassian’s eyes narrow from across the table. 

“Like?” Rhys stuck a green bean in his mouth.

“Uhh, f-fashion. And I’m very good at handling money. Other people's money. As well as picking locks and hotwiring cars-”

“She’s joking,” Cassian gave the fakest laugh– besides Dana’s– that I’ve ever heard. “We used to play cops and robbers when we were little, she always wanted to be the robber.”

“Did I?”

“Yes,” he practically growled. “You did.”

This was crazy. This was actually crazy to be doing this right now. If I had any particular feeling about the things I did, guilty and ashamed were not some of them. Who gave a fuck if I stole from Walmart or faked being a waitress to make a few extra bucks? If anything they should be thanking me for the extra set of hands. Which they didn’t have to pay for. 

It wasn’t like I stole the Mona Lisa for fucks sake. 

“I guess I did.” 

“What was Cassian like growing up? I can only imagine some of the stories you have,” Nesta chimed in from next to Cassian.

“I have a few. One time, Cassian was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich-”

“Do not-”

“And he thought that the peanut butter was in the fridge for some reason. Turns out he grabbed a bottle of dijon mustard and used that instead. He took one bite and threw up everywhere. It took Dana a week to get the smell out of the kitchen.”

Everyone grimaced, poking fun at Cassian for making a jelly-mustard sandwich. “I guess that explains the nausea every time I make one.”

“You still can’t stomach even the smell?” My eyes were a little wide. That had to have been from when we were still in elementary school.

“Nope,” Cassian’s tone was harsh, fork forceful as it went into his mouth. 

“What is everyone laughing about?” A new voice said from over my shoulder. When I turned to look… holy mother of Jesus fucking–

“Azriel,” Rhys, still in a fit of laughter. “Listen to this: Ira, Cassian’s sister, told us why he runs for the hills every time he sees peanut butter.”

“S-Sister?” 

I could not have ignored the exchange between Cass and Azriel if I tried. Those alarm bells from earlier? They were deafening now. Much like Cassian and Rhys earlier, their eyes and body gestures were like a language in and of itself. Impossible to understand, but something was said. 

“Azriel, this is my sister. Ira,” Cassian gestured to me without looking. “This is Azriel. And my foster parents, Arthur and Dana.”

I held Azriel’s gaze for a second. I couldn’t quite figure out what his problem was, but he better not have one with me. I challenged his gaze, but he refused to back down. 

Azriel gave a not-so-subtle look at me, but didn’t say anything as he moved to sit with us. A sharp kick to my shin had me wincing. When I looked up, Cassian met my heated gaze. 

Don’t even think about it, he mouthed, glare set so deep in his eyes I wasn't sure his eye lids would peel off his face. 

One raise of my eyebrow told him I was up for the challenge. I could see his jaw clench, and that only made me want to push his buttons. 

I managed to break my vice hold on Cassian and look at Azriel from across the table. He had these lighter colored eyes, hazel I think. And a dark mess of hair. He wore a fitted black athletic tee, and black sweats with a Nike swoosh on the hip. I think I stared a little too long, cause when I looked back up at his face, he sent me a wink. 

I damn near gagged. He wishes. 

“And you’re engaged? That’s wonderful, Cassian. I am so happy for you,” Dana gushed while looking at Nesta’s ring. “Congratulations, you two. Do you have a date picked out?”

“No,” Nesta said sternly. “We are just going to wait things out. Until both of us feel ready.”

Cassian nodded, not offering up any words. 

“What would you guys like for dessert?” Rhys asked, listing off a few options. I stopped paying attention after chocolate cake because who would want to hear anything else?

“I’m afraid we better get on the road, it is a long drive back to our home. Thank you for dinner, it was delicious,” Arthur stood up from the table, shaking Rhys’s hand. “Cassian, a word, please?”

With a deep breath, Cassian stood up and followed the old man out of the room. 

“Okay, now that he’s gone, can we all agree that there is something wrong with him? I’ve never seen him so… so rigid in my life,” Mor blew out air from her lips, shaking her head. 

I offered a tad bit of insight. “Dana and Arthur are kind of fed up with me so they’re just gonna take off. And leave me here. But don’t worry, I’m just gonna find a bus stop in the morning and be gone before any of you wake up. No biggie.”

The room was silent except for my fork scratching on the plate. When I looked up, everyone was looking at me funny.

“Ira, what? They’re gonna leave you here?” Mor gasped.

“It is a long story. And they think I need a role model to get my life together. Why Cassian is that role model I’ll never understand because the last I knew of him he was just as irresponsible as I was.”

Rhys took a sip of wine, “How long has it been since you’ve seen each other?”

“Six years. But I mean you all probably know him better than I ever did so, might wanna ask that prick why he abandoned me.” I took a big piece of this chocolate cake into my mouth. “Fuck, this is good.”

“What happened?” Feyre prodded.

“We are lightyears away from you being able to ask that,” I laughed. “No offense but, it’s none of your fucking business.”

Again, the room was silent, except for a small snort at the end of the table. It wasn’t Elain because she was so red she looked like she was gonna pass out. And the only other one was Azriel. 

“Hint taken,” Rhys pressed his lips in a flat line. “Well, you are Cassian’s family, so you are always welcome in our home.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to be. I’ll figure it out, I always have. It’ll be like I was never here,” I took another forkful and shoved it in. Damn, I was gonna miss this cake. “So, Rhys, you own a casino and a hotel. What do the rest of you do?”

I’ll pretend like I care for my own amusement.  

“Well, Cassian runs the casino and hotel,” Rhys pointed out again. “Azriel owns and runs the adjacent club. We basically have our own empire here.”

“Sounds riveting,” I rolled my eyes. “What about you Mor.”

“I am the best fucking bartender this place has seen,” she grinned. “And I model here and there.” “Wonderful.” So she’s a princess. Got it. 

“I have an art studio. I teach classes and do some workshops,” Feyre said. “But most of the time I am at home with our son Nyx. He is… he’s a handful. A spoiled handful.”

“Hey,” Mor said, “to be fair, he is the first kid in our group, what did you expect?”

“He’s barely two, he doesn’t need designer clothes that he won’t fit into after a few months anyway. It's a waste of money.”

“Feyre, darling, I don’t know if you’ve looked around, but we kind of have a lot of money. It could use some wasting,” Rhys patted her thigh under the table. 

I can only hope to have enough financial security to be able to say sentences like that. They could probably retire right now, all of them, and never make a dent in their fortune. Lucky bastards. 

“What is it that you do, Ira?” Azriel poked his head from around Mor. 

“Oh,” I sputtered. What the hell was I supposed to say? Certainly the fact that I commit petty crimes won’t go over well. “I’ve had a lot of jobs. I don’t have a set career yet.”

“So hot-wiring cars is just a hobby then?” 

A stream of water shot out of Mor’s mouth and onto the table. How did he even hear that?

“It’s a skill. Don’t come crying to me when your battery dies and you don’t wanna pay a hundred and fifty dollars for AAA to come and pick up your ass,” I deflected. Another skill I had built up over the years. 

“And the locks?” Wow, he was kind of an asshole with supersonic hearing. I could see why he and Cassian hung around together. 

“I was a locksmith,” I mustered up my best smile and scooted my chair so I was sitting at an angle.

“Ah, so it wasn’t just the ‘cops and robbers’ you and Cassie used to play growing up. Good to know,” Azriel wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. He stood up, saying something about having to leave because he had to open up. 

Just as he was walking by, I stuck my toe into the walkway and he tripped over me. Azriel all but went through the wall, Cassian coming around at the last second and catching his arm. 

“You alright?” He asked as Azriel straightened himself out. 

“Yup. Fine.” The glare he gave me sent a smirk curling at my lips. Two can play that game, mother fucker. 

I, very gracefully, scratched the corner of my nose with my middle finger. He got the message. But so did Cassian.

“Your stuff is in the driveway. Go get it and meet me upstairs.” Cassian looked so pissed off. His shoulders were pinned to his ears again as he stalked away, that silence settling back in the room. 

“Guess that’s my cue to get a move on. Thank you everyone, a pleasure to meet you all,” I said with a genuine tone. They were all cool.  

The three duffle bags and backpack were not light as I carried them up the stairs, trying not to knock over all the decorations and pictures on the wall. One of them didn’t survive. It crashed all the way down and shattered on the hardwood floor. Cassian cursed from somewhere. 

With a thud, I let go of all the bags in some random room at the end of the hall. It was barely big enough to call a hobbit hole. There wasn’t a window or a real bed, just some cot with a pillow and a blanket. “Glamourous.”

“It’s the best that I could do,” Cassian all but rolled his eyes. 

“A couch would’ve been better,” I plopped down on the taught fabric, bouncing a little. “Sorry about the frame.” “It’s fine,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, Ira I’m sorry about how I left you.” “Yeah well apologies don’t mean a fucking thing to me unless you fix it, Cassian,” I folded my arms over my chest. “And for the record, I would’ve understood if you would’ve just fucking told me what was going on. Instead, not only did you not tell me, you ghosted me.” I just blinked up at him, waiting for an explanation. “Well?”

Nothing. Not even a strangled breath. “I just had to.”

“That’s the best you can do? Are you seriously still that fucking thick in the head?” “I didn’t have a choice, Ira,” he shouted. 

“Yes,” I nodded. “You absolutely had a choice. You could’ve at least left me a fucking note with a number on it so I could talk to you. You were all I had, Cass. All I fucking had and you just disappeared. What did you expect me to do?”

Cassian shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I-I don’t know. I thought you’d get yourself together and make it out too. Build your own empire, like the one we have here.”

“In case you forgot, I didn’t get to finish school like you did.”

“Well that’s not my fault.”

The fucking nerve. I stood up, barely coming to his chest, and smacked him across the face. His head jerked to the side, and his mouth fell open. I shoved him into the wall on the other side of the hallway and he fell into it. 

“You are a piece of fucking shit Cassian.”

“Ira–” “Did you really think that I would end up alright without you there? Could you really be that fucking stupid?”

“I didn’t think that–”

“Of course you didn’t. You never have. You’ve only ever thought about yourself and what would benefit you. You never gave a shit about me, I was just a burden you couldn’t get rid of.” “That’s not true,” he gritted his teeth. 

“Tell me that I am not a constant reminder of dad. Or mom. Tell me.” I waited for a response. When nothing came, I felt the nausea roll through my body. “You are one sorry son of a bitch Cassian.”

“Jesus Ira you think I wanted to abandon you?” “You haven’t given me one other reason to believe anything different,” I was screaming now. I didn’t care if anyone else heard. “The last memory I have of you is seeing you packing a fucking bag and climbing out your window, what else am I supposed to believe about you?”

A door clicked open, and Azriel emerged. He looked at us with raised eyebrows. “Everything alright?” 

No, you fucking prick. 

“Just re-kindling our sibling rivalry,” I gave a mocking look, staring down Azriel. “Mind your own damn business. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Ira,” Cassian said, somewhat appalled. 

“Just fuck off, Cassian,” I waved my hand at him. “Like I said, I’ll be gone in the morning and you don’t ever have to worry about making it up to me again because you won’t be able to. Hope you are happy living in your perfect little bubble with your perfectly little circle. Hope they’re all more important to you than I ever was.”

I slammed the door shut quicker than he could get a response out, leaning against it. I hadn’t ever realized that I was shaking.

Whatever. Fuck him too. I don’t need Cassian. I haven’t needed him for the past six years. God, has it really been that long?

There was no use in unpacking so I just piled the bags in the corner of the room. And there was also nothing to do besides lay down simply because there wasn’t enough room to do anything else. 

Maybe when everyone has gone to sleep, or home, I’ll go sneak around. Take something just to piss him off. Nothing too valuable, but something really inconvenient like all the salt and pepper shakers or all the spoons. 

Or one of the Corvettes in the driveway.

My mind was racing with thoughts, but eventually I had fallen asleep because the sun was peeking through the crack under my door. I stirred and sat up, sighing loudly. 

I changed into a hoodie and some other jeans, slipping my jacket on knowing it'll be chilly. 

With far more precision, I made it downstairs to the front door. It unlocked easily, thankfully no alarm system went off. The crisp morning greeted me and I slipped out silently. 

Fuck, this driveway was long. Couldn’t they be normal and have a normal fucking sized driveway? It was so unnecessary. 

And of course there was nothing at the end of it. Just the road and nothing else. Not another house or anything. Who knows how far it could be until a bus station. Hopefully this place wasn’t filled with a bunch of weirdos and I wouldn’t get kidnapped. 

The thought of carrying all these bags for miles would tear up my back and shoulders. I didn’t have that much but… I needed all of it. 

“Ira!”

I whirled around and saw a Cassian shaped silhouette coming down the driveway. Oh great. 

“Come to demand I pay for the broken frame?” “Stay.”

What? “What?”

Cassian breathed heavily, “Stay. I-I am so sorry for what I said. And you’re right, I don’t ever think of anyone other than myself. And I’m sorry I never told you where I was going. I want to fix it, but I can’t if you don’t at least let me try.”

I dropped the bags, totally not believing what I was hearing. “And what if I don’t give a flying fuck if you want to or not?”

Cassian completely deflated. “Please, Ira. I made a promise to mom and dad that I would look after you. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I don’t feel like a piece of shit for what I did. I miss you.”

So what if he made a promise to mom and dad? He made a promise to me. To always stick together. To always be there. He hung me out to dry before I even had a chance to notice. His apology means nothing. His desperation means nothing. 

I fucking hated Cassian. More than anything right now I wanted to watch him be boiled alive. Could he really even help me anyway? What was the fucking point of any of this? I was already humiliated, and dragging innocent people into my bullshit surely didn’t help. 

I sucked in a big breath, hiking my bag up on my shoulder, ready to bolt. “Why should I?”

“Because what other option do you realistically have?” 

“That is not fair,” I flare my nostrils. “You have no right to waltz back into my life and pretend you give a shit about me.”

“You were the one who was dropped on my doorstep,” Cassian pointed out, making my stomach drop. 

“You know, you’re doing a shit job at showing that you legitimately want me to stay, asshole.” I was getting a little angry. Good things did not happen when I felt betrayed. “And for the record, I tried to talk them out of bringing me here, but they went around me and got a fucking court order. So, whether you want to believe it or not, it was not my choice to be here. I can’t even go back with Dana and Arthur because there will be a warrant out for my arrest.”

“Shit…” Cassian dragged a hand over his face. “Ira I’m-”

“Sorry? I know. But you lost the privilege of my forgiveness long ago. It is gonna take a hell of a lot more than ‘I’m sorry’ to fix what you’ve done to me.”

“I know, I know,” Cassian softened his eyes and his voice, standing tall in front of me. “Just… give me something. Anything, and I will never betray you ever again.”

Should I believe him? I have no fucking idea what to do. All my senses are telling me to run and don’t look back, but that gaping pit in my stomach that formed when he left seems a little less… gaping.  

This was gonna be a rough fucking time. Nothing about this is going to be easy, but… he was right. I didn’t have another option. Prison, if I really was desperate, but I didn’t quite feel like losing all my basic human rights.

If he wanted me to stay, there were going to have to be some sacrifices on his end.

Maybe a little room for petty behavior. 

“I want a real fucking room.” I demanded

“Any one in the house.”

“I want yours.”

“Absolutely not,” Cassian furrowed his brow. “Plus, I don’t even live here anymore. Just Rhys, Feyre and Nyx. Nesta, Azriel and I live in the next town.”

“So what, you all just visit together and pretend to be a big happy family?” I scoffed, kicking a stone. 

“We don’t pretend, Ira,” he didn’t say it rudely, but more matter of fact-ly. And he looked at me like I had never known what a family was. I guess he forgot that when he left it kind of ruined me. Or again maybe he just didn’t care what it would do to me back then. 

Cassian looked sad. Not depressed or upset, just sad. 

“Your room or I’m gonna walk away right now.” There was no room for negotiating in my voice. I could see the conflict in his eyes, but with a sigh he gave in. 

“Fine, you can have my room,” Cassian rolled his eyes dramatically. 

“Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Actually it was. I spent weeks designing that room. All for it to go to fucking waste.”

“Sucks to suck I guess,” I smirked, shouldering two of my bags. I took a long, non-rage-filled look at my brother. Man… he looked so different. Six years is a long time to not see someone. 

I gotta make this work. “I’m gonna work hard, you know. I’m tired of always being in the fucking mud.”

“Yup. Me too.” Nice, asshole. “You’re going to have to follow some rules and check in. This isn’t going to be a free-for-all, you’re gonna have a curfew.”

“A curfew? What am I, thirteen?”

“Until you can prove to me that you’re not gonna go and rob a bank, yes, you’ll have a curfew,” Cassian picked up my other bags and started walking back to the house. “We’re gonna find you a job because I will not be funding your operation.”

“What happened to ‘we have a lot of money. It could use some wasting’?”

“Rhys wasn’t wrong,” Cassian said. “But just because we have it doesn’t mean you get access to it.”

“Jeez, sorry I brought it up, grumpy pants. And what kind of rules anyway?”

“We’ll talk about it later. Some of us like to get a full eight hours of sleep every day so I am going back to bed. You’re not allowed to leave the house until I say so, so find something to do.”

“Or someone,” I whispered to myself. But Cassian heard. “A joke.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you eye fucking Azriel,” Cassian practically gagged. “That is one of your rules. You are not allowed to be engaged with him in any type of way. The last thing he needs right now is you.”

“Right to the heart. And please, I could do better.” That part was debatable for sure. 

“I mean it, he’s been through a lot the past year and a half. It took him a long time to get to where he is and I won’t let you ruin it for him,” Cassian said possessively. “He, along with everyone else, is my family. Fuck with them and you’re dealing with me.” “News flash, buddy, so am I. We share the same DNA, and hair and eyes according to everyone else on the fucking planet.”

“Ira, I’m serious. If you fuck around with Azriel and I find out I sweat to–”

“Jesus, calm down Vengeance. Gotham is safe from the Joker,” I followed him inside, clicking the door shut behind me. “I won’t get involved with Azriel.”

“Good.”

He carried the bags to his car, telling me we’d make it to his house sometime in the afternoon. After that? I just… wandered. I looked in the kitchen, grabbing an orange and a few granola bars from the pantry. I slipped out the back door to the pool and sat on one of the lounge chairs. 

The sunrise was full of oranges and golds. Much different from the other sunrises I’m used to up on the roof. The soft wind blew the water in the pool, making gentle lapping noises. I closed my eyes. Stretched my legs. 

I’ve gotta be careful or I might get used to this. 

I know the ending of this book. Read these pages, seen the titles. It’s gonna be no fucking different. I’ll give it the good ol’ college try, but it’s never gonna fucking work. I’ll do something stupid, piss off the wrong person and Cassian will kick me to the curb. Just a waiting game. 

Nothing I can do about it, so I might as well see where fate takes me.

[caffeinatedmunchkin]

WIP Wednesday ✨

Thank you for the tags @xxnashiraxx & @khywren, you’re both so incredibly talented I so appreciate getting tagged by you! Please go check out their respective WIPs here & here! The literary prowess is astounding pleaseee go read them now you will not be disappointed

I have another Emmrich x Rook oneshot in the works. I didn’t anticipate the feedback on the last fic I posted, and while I am supremely grateful I’m also deep in the imposter syndrome trenches. So sharing this is to keep me accountable, because I really want to see the idea through! Enjoy 💕

No game spoilers, just smut under the cut. (MDNI)

"I'll issue one final warning." He intoned, encouraging her to keep count. "Use your words, darling."

"F-fourt... fourteen." Her voice was a strangled, weak thing. A flicker of her wildfire not yet extinguished, it goaded the low, mutter of "masal din'an."  to seethe from her before she could even think to stifle it.

Aware that Emmrich most likely heard, a shred of hope blossomed in the shelter of assumption that he couldn't decipher the specific venom obscured in the elvish.

There was a pause, everything stopped in that moment. Even her heart.

Then came the shuffling of feet as he positioned himself behind her, caging her against him as he planted one palm alongside her elbow, and then the other. 

She braced herself as he swept in low, his mouth hovering beside her blushed ear. Her skin prickled in a wave down her body, that faint gasp of hope shriveled and wilting.

In a startlingly fluent timbre, "ma nuvenin" was purred in response. 

As you say.

The little elf shivered at the depth and severity of his enunciation. Eyes widening, heat flushed upwards from her neck in a vibrant bloom that stained the whole of her face. The arousal at hearing her language in his voice was almost enough to eclipse her dread that he knew exactly what vulgarity she had slung his way.

"Y-you-!" 

Another whack doled to her tender flesh, though one that was sharp as it was stinging. Hollow. He didn't allow the meat of his palm to cup the swelling upon impact, nor did he soothe it with a lingering touch. He rebounded like snapped twine. It was a biting smack, one that had her suck at the air around her for strength.

"Fifteen!" 

Before she could offer a weak excuse, he scolded her with tired disappointment. "Honestly, darling, you think me unacquainted with your tongue?"

No pressure tags! @obsessedwhyyes @vangbelsing @chaoticbardlady99 and whoever else wants to participate 👀

[notgreengardens]

what the fuck is this fuck shit weather it's almost june and I am on the brink of winter depression I want my fucking money back I want to talk to whoever is responsible for this weather and strangle the fucker with my bare hands

[anyhow-everything]

Sooo….. I just made a mistake

Graphic sexual content under the cut, minors dni (if I see you interacting with this post and you don’t have an age stated on your profile or you’re a minor, I WILL block you)

Just imagine being skz free use fucktoy and they’re on vacation with you after all that comeback stress, but they still have to vlog of course (gotta keep their fans fed and all that) but they’re so busy with fucking you that they can’t get any other content, so they just upload this video of you being sprawled out on the dinner table for access from all sides, completely fucked out already, eight sets of hands on your body, and of course they can’t show identifying features in this (as if we couldn’t recognize them from their pinky alone) so your face is the only one shown and the shot starts on your face, on the way your eyes are half closed and rolled back into your head, your cheeks red, your chin coated in what probably is a mix of saliva and precum from sucking one of them off earlier, with your lips slightly parted and laboured breaths escaping, too far gone already to properly speak. And then the camera pans down slowly, showing your neck that is held tightly by someone’s hand (we‘d immediately recognize Hyunjin) and your breasts, nipples peaked and swollen, glistening with someone’s spit and red spots showing from where someone pressed his fingertips in too hard. Further down next to your belly your legs can be seen, held up on one side by tiny hands and on the other side by long and skinny fingers, Felix and Jeongin apparently helping out whoever is ramming into you at this moment. And then it moves even further down, showing a long and veiny cock, obviously belonging to the person holding the camera, sliding in and out of your slick hole, the sight alone so pornographic that you know what you‘ll masturbate to once they go on tour again. Chan‘s dark voice can be heard right behind the camera, giving away that it’s him currently drilling into you: „My god, so beautiful, Baby, treating us so well on this holiday. Say hi to STAY“ and then he chuckles when all he gets in response is a strangled moan. „Guess, you’re unable right now, huh? It’s alright, Baby, I‘ll talk for you. Do you hear that, STAY? They say Hi and want to thank you for all the support during our last comeback. Now please excuse us for the next couple of days while we’re busy… unwinding here. Talk to you soon!“ and with that he hands the camera over to someone else, who gets one last shot of his hips picking up speed and drawing high pitched screams out of you, before the camera is turned off and the iconic „Stray Kids everywhere all around the world“ ending screen is seen.

The video is only online for a couple of minutes, the members uploaded it without telling staff and JYPE immediately got it removed when they found out, but it’s enough time for the fans to screen record or download it and make edits and spread images, everyone loving the support the members get through their little toy and begging the company to allow for more of this content (of course with proper age restriction)

[eris-snow]

𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭

Tags: Revelation (Deku's birthday series 2024), izuku x fem!reader, angst, plot, class a shenanigans, filler, I'd die for Izuku, birthday, fluff

Masterlist

July 13th. Crack and break.

---

There were 3 things you knew had happened yesterday.

Number 1: Your days with him had ticked from 4 to 3. This version of Izuku would go poof in a matter of days, and you were going to miss it. Somehow, Izuku had compacted a year's worth of memories in the span of two weeks, and now, you didn’t want him to let go. This was the closest he’d ever got to remembering you, thrashing against binds and battering against an unbreakable wall. You’ll miss it, of course you would.

You’ve never seen him try this hard for you.

Don’t leave me, Izuku. I’m scared of the look in your eyes when you don’t recognise me. Even if you don’t need me, even if I don’t need you, I want to stand by your side. Please don’t go. Please remember me.

Number 2: Izuku had found something 

Ever since Izuku had come back from the clearing, he’d been distant. He’d found something, of course he did.

The Saviour of the world can pride himself on his unreasonable number of Quirks and excellent portfolio, but he couldn’t lie to save his life. If there was one thing in heroing he’d be bad at, it’d be undercover missions.

You drink coffee from the cup, shiver at the bitterness, and take another sip. You need to stop psyching yourself out, otherwise, you’re going to combust from the inside out. Splattered organs would not look good beside a fucked up kitchen.

And the 3rd thing…

There was a student found on campus in a pool of blood.

There was no indication of an intruder, so when she was admitted into the infirmary and patched up, everyone thought she was fine until she woke up and started bawling uncontrollably.

Depressed, Recovery Girl had said, right before admitting her into the hospital. Can’t even remember how to smile.

Chisuke had been on campus.

If Izuku hadn’t left with you yesterday, that could have been him.

You highly doubt that the villain could so much as graze Izuku, but what if he’d came in at night? Lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right time to strike…you shake your head, instead pushing your thoughts to homework.

Aizawa had reassured you that everything was under control, so why couldn’t you shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong?

—

Maybe you were being paranoid, but being paranoid saved lives okay, and if you had to look at another question involving differentiating a product rule in a fraction, you’d personally find a person with a time travelling Quirk, go back in time, and strangle whoever decided they were smart enough to jam math with letters instead of numbers.

Aizawa dms you the files within an hour, and you open and devour the multi-paged document like it was the latest chapter of a manga.

Chisuke Suzuki, the younger brother of Isamu Suzuki, has a Quirk that can shut down one emotion of his choice permanently. You sit back and read through the file, eying his details carefully before you scribble some of it down.

Analysis was good, because it also was a handy distraction. From Izuku’s dazed responses, he had his own things to work through that he didn’t want to tell you. The conversation mainly went like so:

“Hello.”

“Mm, bananas.”

“Midoriya, I was going to ask if you were doing alright? You seem pretty out of it.”

“Apples are great fruits too. I think Tokoyami can help you.”

“Midoriya, if you don’t give me a proper answer, I’m gonna take Kacchan and wham you over your head.”

“Sounds fun.”

Nothing’s more frustrating than Izuku being deep in thought.

And maybe part of you, a tiny part of you, was hurt by the fact that Izuku didn’t even think of telling you.

Shaking your head, you sigh. It doesn’t matter, it’s alright.

It’s okay, because in 3 days, Izuku won’t remember any of this at all.

—

Izuku shuffles and rereads the words in his mind once more.

Tit for tat, this for that. A brother for a brother, and pain for bits and scraps.

You want to find your memories? I understand. My Quirk is simple, very simple. Pain is not worth the weight of knowledge. Your trade is insufficient.

Try again.

“A fair trade.” He whispers, hand over his mouth as he works his way through the thoughts. “Your memories…for mine?”

Izuku shuts the thought down immediately because there’s no way that was fair. You’d kept them, held them dear to your heart and stayed by his side this entire time. You are not losing your memories to his hands.

What can I do? What can I exchange? What do I have to lose.

“Oi, idiot, you’re muttering out loud again.” Katsuki says, flopping down on a nearby beanbag. Izuku promptly ignores him.

Your trade is insufficient. Try again.

Try again.

Izuku glares down at his hands with a look that could kill, trying, but failing to find the right instrument to strike the right chord.

Other memories, perhaps?

(”Dude, is he okay? Seriously, I feel sorry for his cup, man, He could boil tea with that gaze—")

Try again.

An arm? A leg?

Try again.

His Quirk? Izuku pauses in contemplation, jerking his head up.

“Oh, he’s alive,” Shoto says tonelessly, from somewhere in the background

There’s a faint hum in his mind, an answer bubbling up to the surface, until—

Try again.

Izuku slams his head against the table.

“Bro, come on,” Kirishima whines, swiping his pancakes off the table. “My breakfast!”

“Sorry,” Izuku mutters, forcing a sheepish smile, before he dives head first back into the table.

“I think he’s lost it,” Kaminari whispers all too loudly from the safety of the couches.

Izuku chucks the pillow on his lap at Kaminari as the blond ducks.

“Haha, missed me—DUDE WHAT THE FUCK, THAT WAS A WHOLE ASS CHAIR.”

“Please get your sorry ass up to Y/n’s room and date her already.” Ochaco murmurs.

Izuku’s head shoots up from the midst of his table toppling. “What?”

“Wait no, don’t do that.” Ochaco hums seamlessly, yanking her already split coffee from the table. “Okay, you can have the table now.”

“Thanks.”

“Noo, Midoriya, man! I thought Kacchan was the mean one! Please don’t stab me with a table leg! I swear, it was just a—AHHHHH BAKUGOU FUCKING HELP. HEELLLPPPP, MIDORIYA’S GONE STIR CRAZY, HE’S MAD WITH POWER, HEL—”

—

When you walk downstairs and find your first love chasing a certain idiot blond around the living room with a whole ass table in tow, you stop and stare, before making eye contact with Ochaco. She shrugs.

Katsuki raises an eyebrow, as if to say “Why the fuck would you expect me to know?”

Izuku’s muscles are taunt and firm as he hauls the table. You watch his biceps flex, tune out Kaminari’s screaming, and lick your lips.

There’s a camera flash, and you pocket your phone.

Picture-perfect, really.

—

It’s only when Izuku returns to the dorms does his headaches come back in full force. Truthfully, he should have been expecting it. Staggering, he barely has enough time to lock his door before he falls to his knees on the ground. Everything is ice-blue, and the ringing in his ears add to the disequilibrium he’s experiencing. He’s on the floor, but he feels like the world has tilted sideways.

Pain is not worth the weight of knowledge.

He groans, and in his agony blossoms another image that tastes like blood and tears.

It’s his birthday, and the sun is out and bright. It’s his birthday, but tears are running down your cheeks, and you’re holding him like he’s dying on the battlefield and ashamed like you murdered someone with your two hands.

“Zuku, please.” You sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m so sorry—”

He wants to say it’s okay, wants to tell you he’s fine, but he’s frozen still.

Stop meddling.

The voice whispers, disgruntled and annoyed.

Hox wax coats his brain as he screams, easing himself down from hell. Cotten candy melting in his mouth, iridescent rainbows, fluffy clouds, beautiful skies—

There’s another loud crack, and the wall fragments even more.

He yanks himself out of his own mind, and gasps at the return.

His birthday at 10 was laid bare in front of him. His Quirk Accident.

The day he forgot you, wrapped up in a neat bow and presented to him like a birthday gift.

[voxofthevoid]

Shibuya Swap Wednesday #10 😶

I'm still on Part 3: 94k, 17 chapters, and counting. But I think Part 3 will be done with two, maximum three, chapters, and then it's Part 4 with alt!Satoru/alt!Yuuji. I think this fic is gonna end up being some 25 chapters of wall-to-wall porn with a few chapters of conversations and feels. I hope whoever's into goyuu in fucking 2026 will enjoy it.

For now, have a blowjob:

“I thought you were a good boy.” Gojou does stop then, pouting about it. It’s terrible and terribly pretty. “But here you are, leaving me high and dry.”

What’re you even—” It hits Yuuji mid-sentence, and he looks down. Their torsos are flush together, so he can’t see anything, but he can sure feel it. “Oh, that.”

“You don’t sound very impressed.” The pout worsens, comical now. “Ouch.”

Yuuji’s torn between rolling his eyes and kissing the pout away.

Novelty wins.

He has no regrets, not when he can taste how Gojou’s mouth eases into a smile right against his lips.

“Put me down, sensei,” Yuuji says without pulling away.

“But I like you here.”

“You’ll like me on my knees too.”

Gojou makes a strangled noise, and that’s worth the spike of what the fuck am I saying. It’s a bold claim. Yuuji’s done this exactly once, and the dick was…non-standard.

But no one’s ever accused Yuuji of not swinging for the fences.

He fists a hand in Gojou’s hair, tugging his head back. It’s not very gentle, but Yuuji’s the one paying the price because his body howls at the way Gojou’s lashes flutter, sweeping delicately over pink-stained cheeks. His eyes gleam like blue coals, and the longer Yuuji stares, the more he feels like they’ll flare into flames and burn him up.

Yuuji gives the hair another tug anyway. Gojou’s lips tremble, making a noise that’s not a name but something close to it.

“Down, sensei,” Yuuji says sternly.

“Bossy,” Gojou replies, but it’s delightfully breathless, and his response is immediate, the hands holding Yuuji up loosening and then falling limply to the side.

Yuuji tightens his legs around Gojou on instinct, holding himself up. His fingers sink deeper into a thickly muscled shoulder, and his other hand tightens in Gojou’s hair, meaner than he wants to be, but Gojou just lets out a hot, ragged breath, everything about his mouth begging for some teeth. Yuuji can’t help giving it to him, bending down despite his precarious position to kiss Gojou on his pretty, pink mouth, and it’s a clumsy affair, Yuuji more focused on keeping his balance than any kind of technique, but he still takes his time pulling back, sucking Gojou’s lip into his mouth and keeping it there, trapped between teeth and sweetened with tongue.

He doesn’t let go until a few seconds after his feet find the ground, Gojou’s head yanked down by the lip caught in Yuuji’s mouth.

Gojou’s hands return to Yuuji, gripping his forearms with a gentleness that scorches the skin.

Yuuji kisses him again, just once, close-lipped and hungry, and drops to his knees.

Gojou makes that same strangled noise. He’s still holding Yuuji’s arms.

“Let go, sensei,” Yuuji tells him, tugging lightly.

Gojou blinks, his eyes flitting from Yuuji’s face to his forearms. He lets go, prying his fingers off one by one, and the hands are back on Yuuji the next moment, one sliding into his hair and the other resting on his shoulders. There’s barely any pressure, but Yuuji can still feel their weight, heavy enough to leaden his bones.

It’s not a bad feeling.

He tries to ground himself with that touch while he tries to get at Gojou’s dick. The jacket keeps getting in the way, too long and unwieldy, and it’s not that Yuuji needs to see the fly to unzip it, but he really wants to. His head is a slurry of fears and wants, more good than bad. He yanks the jacket up to pin it to Gojou’s own stomach, and then there’s a lot less hiding just how affected Gojou is—everything Yuuji felt earlier gleaming in front of his eyes.

He cups the bulge, spreading his fingers over it. Even like this, it feels hot. Touching it like this feels nice and dirty both, like the sweetest and filthiest thing Yuuji’s done at the same time.

Gojou is very still.

Yuuji’s tempted to look up but doesn’t, opening the fly instead. It’s more cloth under it, except Gojou’s underwear is soft and fine, and his cock looks like it’s about to poke a hole through it. It’s already so wet.

Yuuji rescues the underwear and nearly gets his eye poked out for his trouble.

“Woah,” he gasps, flinching back. Then he sees just what sprang out. “Wow.”

There’s another strangled noise from Gojou, distinctly amused this time.

“What?” Yuuji asks defensively, scowling up at Gojou and trying to ignore the new heat on his face. “It’s pretty!”

“Thank you,” Gojou says, his voice strained like he’s muffling laughter. “I’d have hated to disappoint you.”

Yuuji does roll his eyes this time. “Like you were ever worried about that. Look at this thing.”

“I’d rather look at you.”

That just makes Yuuji’s face burn even hotter, and he drags his eyes away from the searing sincerity on Gojou’s face. And the flushed curve of his cock doesn’t kill the heat, but it changes it, making it hotter and hungrier, and for a moment, Yuuji just stares at it, drinking it in the way he wasn’t allowed to that morning.

It suits Gojou, from the size to the color.

The head is the same blush pink of Gojou’s lips, and the way it gleams wetly with a generous coat of precome is like a dirtier version of how Gojou’s mouth shines with gloss or spit or worse. And it’s long—long enough that Yuuji presses his legs closer together at the memory of how Satoru’s dick looked straining against his cage. He can’t imagine all this being wrapped up in unforgiving metal like that, but that’s exactly what the other Yuuji did to Satoru.

Yuuji drags his mind away from that line of thought; he’s had a lot of practice with that these last few days.

He curls a hand just under the head. It’s hot, silky. The foreskin moves with liquid smoothness when Yuuji gives it a tentative stroke, and the head doesn’t get any wetter, but what’s already there makes Yuuji’s mouth water and throat dry out at the same time. It’s weirdly thrilling, this mix of anticipation and dread.

He takes Gojou into his mouth, eyes wide open.

Precome coats his tongue. It doesn’t have much of a taste. Just bland wetness, maybe a little sweet. He wonders if that’s because of all the sweets Gojou eats.

He swallows, the head still weighing down his tongue. There’s a lot more to take, and he tries, slowly swallowing Gojou centimeter by centimeter, and there’s a memory in his mouth of flesh caged in metal, but right now, it’s just flesh, heavy and hot all the way through, and Yuuji stops with the head prodding the back of his throat, not triggering the gag reflex he lacks but still kind of strange. Satoru didn’t get this far; he couldn’t. And a part of Yuuji misses the weird sting of metal on his tongue.

Or maybe he just misses the boy.

He closes his eyes and sucks, swallowing his own spit mixed with Gojou’s mess.

Gojou’s nails scrape his scalp, gathering a fistful of hair. It pulls a little, but Gojou doesn’t do anything else as Yuuji figures out how to suck a cock that’s bigger and fuller than the last one he put in his mouth. He keeps getting distracted by the differences. Gojou’s pleasantly solid, filling Yuuji’s mouth and digging into its insides when he sucks, but there was something heady about the way Satoru fit into his mouth, lying on his tongue all sweet and easy. And despite his aching sympathy, Yuuji liked how it looked straining wetly against the cage, both flesh and metal shiny with spit.

Something compels him to draw back and say, “This is pretty different.”

Gojou’s hand tightens in his hair, just for a moment. “Oh?”

Yuuji looks up, forcing down a shiver when he finds blue eyes gone two shades darker, still gleaming with their own fire. “Y-yeah. He was all locked up.”

“Locked up,” Gojou echoes faintly, blinking once.

“A cage,” Yuuji clarifies. “Mostly metal in my mouth. It wasn’t bad though. I liked it. Not that I don’t like this! You taste good.”

“Thanks,” Gojou says, but it sounds absent. He’s staring at Yuuji like he’s never seen him before, and that could be concerning, but Yuuji feels weirdly…powerful.

He licks his lips, his spent cock throbbing when Gojou’s eyes follow the motion shamelessly.

“Hey, Gojou-sensei,” he asks, “do you like that kinda thing too?”

His cock twitches in Yuuji’s grip.

“Huh,” says Yuuji. “Guess you do.”

“You were right, Yuuji,” Gojou says, almost before Yuuji’s done speaking. “I do like you on your knees. But I’m gonna have to ask you to get up and fuck me now.”

[badwolf-gallagher88]

Day 26 - Favourite Trope (Enemies to Lovers)

Once upon a time, someone wrote a story where everyone lived happily ever after.

Lady Galadriel had never believed that story, and had begged Mélian to tell it differently. She did not want to hear of the battle that was won by bravado and courage, nor the fair maiden who gave her heart to the selfless knight.

She wished the battle to be won by cunning alone, by a warrior maiden bent on revenge. When Mélian refused to read her that story, she decided to write it herself.

-

“Daydreaming again, my lady?”

Despite the separation of the gaol cells, Halbrand’s voice carried easily, echoing around the chamber. Galadriel opened her eyes, staring up at the Númenorian columns and elegantly curving arches. She did not deign to move for him, nor answer; she simply listened to the way his breathing intensified.

“I thought we were past hating each other, Galadriel? Did I not save your life, for the small amount of value it appears to be worth?”

Again, she did not answer.

He murmured a curse under his breath, and went back to brooding in silence. After she had waited long enough to ensure his uneasiness, Galadriel finally replied.

“We saved each other.”

She sat up, eager to watch his response. For a moment, a look of joy crossed his features, before dissolving into indifference. She then stood, coming to rest against the bars that separated their respective cells.

“When I was but a child, I was told there would always be a man who would come to save me. Countless tales of how heroic men would join together, to fight the enemy and undo the evils of the world. And I would the pretty maiden, trapped in her tower, and whoever rescued me first would ask for my hand in marriage. And I would accept, for not every she-elf can be Lúthien. 

“I have never wanted that to be my story, Halbrand. I am a warrior for a reason, and it is more than purely revenge. Fiord was my brother, but he is dead. I am alive. And I cannot live a life where I may as well be dead. 

“It is not what I choose…”

Suddenly, she trailed off, disconcerted by his proximity. Halbrand now stood opposite her, separated only by the metal that divided their cells. Yet, he remained nonchalant, encouraging her to continue.

“Go on, my lady.”

“I know not who you are, nor who you wish to be. There is something you are hiding and will not reveal; it matters nought. I cannot work with you if you are my…”

A strangled noise escaped from her, as she felt the dagger press against her neck. She had not noticed him take it from her.

“Enemy?,” he supplied. 

“I am most certainly not that, Lady Galadriel. Most certainly. Not.”

His other hand trailed along the planes of her cheek, but the dagger kept her from pulling away. She did not dare move - nor, she admitted, did she want to. 

“I will not trap you in some unwanted fairytale, Galadriel. You deserve your freedom, for it is earned. But by the powers that be… give me a glimpse of your heart.”

He removed the dagger, grasping her wrists. He pulled her against the bars of the cell, the cold iron digging into her wrists. The pain was immediate, powerful, and she relished in it. She relished in his every word.

“You may - you may have a glimpse.” Her words were breathless, uncertain yet also clear.

And so Halbrand pressed his lips to hers, but did not ask too much. He simply took what she gave to him, and demanded no more.

When he broke away, he laughed quietly to himself. Galadriel’s expression was puzzled, so he gave her the answer she was looking for.

“I wouldn’t worry about those stories, my lady. I think that I am, in fact, the maiden in the tower. And I suspect quite strongly, that you will be my saviour.”

[darbyoakana]

An Overlord's Tail - Chapter 2

An Overlords Tail Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Summary: Vox X reader, F/M. Vox shows up at your apartment, wanting you back. Warnings: Fingering, vaginal penetration. This story is 18+, minors can fuck right off.

Other Notes: Enjoy the smut, after Chapter 2 it's going to be a slow burn

Darby Link Tree

____________________________________________

Chapter 2: (Un)wanted Visitor

“Don’t actions speak louder than words?” The hand at your cheek ran its fingers through your hair. His other hand pulled you into him by your waist. Holding your breath, you tensed as he leaned in. You bit your lip. “See, you missed me too.” 

______________________________________________

The next few days weren’t so bad, you had two days left in the imaginary trial period. Charlie was keeping Alastor busy which meant you actually had time to work. Your shoes had remained dry, papers were finally organized. Several of which clearly had dried tears on them. One even had blood. You felt bad for whoever had previously attempted this job. You skimmed through the few existing reports on the computer, catching up on the resident drama. 

You were in the middle of making a list when Alastor’s shadow swatted the cup of pens off your desk, laughing as it darted away. You groaned and rolled your eyes. The shadow itself was proving to be much like a sinister cat, not really causing any serious damage but you wanted to strangle it nonetheless. Could you strangle a shadow? Alastor himself had changed his approach on how to aggravate you. While he was not fond of people touching him or invading his personal space, he seemed to live a life of double standards. Alastor constantly got into people’s personal bubbles. Maybe he thought it bothered you as much as it would bother him? The micromanaging however was getting on your nerves. 

Speaking off, just as you finished up your first resident report, there was Alastor. Face way too close to yours. You turned your head to face him, your noses almost touched. This was the sixth time he’d bothered you today. 

“Good afternoon dear!” 

“Hi. Is there something I can help you with sir?” you asked, trying to keep a professional tone. 

“Just checking on your progress!” 

“Oh, that's actually perfect I have a few things I wanted to run by you!” 

“Is that so? I am all ears!” 

“Well, one of the biggest complaints we’ve had so far is the lack of laundry services. Nifty has been taking care of it but we are starting to get an overwhelming amount of requests. I know Nifty enjoys what she does, so I don’t know if hiring more help in that department is the right call. But I was thinking we might want to consider creating a laundry room where guests can take care of their own laundry, which would take some weight off Nifty’s plate. She’d still take care of the bedding in the rooms, but the residents would be responsible for their own clothes. So in the meantime, I’ve contacted a laundry mat down the street and worked out a deal with them to give our residents a discount for using them.”

“Lovely idea!” 

Alastor was starting to think you might actually be right for this role. In truth, he needed someone with the ability to endure this hotel. While driving people away was fun for him, it did serve a purpose. 

“Secondly, looking at the meal schedule and cost- We are spending a lot on wasted food. And the meal schedule is a bit of a shit show. Relying on guests to sign up isn’t running smoothly. I did find out that the guest in room 310 used to be a chef. I asked him, and he is willing to take care of meals 3 days a week. And with the increase of residents, a continental breakfast would be more efficient. And we could have a simple rotating menu for dinners. I called around and got some quotes on catering services that I can go over with you later.” You whispered the last part.  ”This would also lower the chances of Charlie cooking.”

“Ha Ha!” He squeezed your cheeks in his hand like a grandma would, just much harder. “My my, aren’t you efficient.” 

“Thank you” you mumbled out of your squished mouth.

Overall you felt that things were going pretty well, Alastor wasn’t as aggressive about getting rid of you, and you were proving to be useful. And he had someone new to bother. 5 PM rolled around, and you felt far less exhausted than you did the previous nights. As you were heading out the door- 

“Hey toots, were you not offered residency here at the hotel?” Angel asked, sitting at the bar. 

“I was. I figured it was better to wait until the ‘trial period’ was over before making the commitment.” 

“What trial period?” 

“Haven’t you noticed, Alastor’s been driving anyone away who takes this job,” Husk remarked. “But you seem to be doing alright so far, kid, what’s your secret?” 

“A tortuous six years at VoxTek,” you laughed. 

“Oh shit, I thought you looked familiar! You were Vox’s assistant… and uh… Side piece if I’m not mistaken.” He winked at you.

“That is unfortunately correct.” 

There was that intrusive image of Vox fucking you on his desk again. 

“Oh man, he’s going to shit an absolute brick when he finds out you are working here!” Angel said, amused. 

“Yeah well, whatever, fuck him,” you remarked. 

“So you still miss him huh?” Angel said slyly. If anyone knew anything about toxic codependent relationships with your boss, it was Angel. “It will get easier, promise.” 

“Doing my best to push it out of my mind and focus on other things.”

“Well, I think it’s great you were strong enough to leave and start over. It is very unlikely Vox would show up at the hotel. And HEY- if there's ever a boss that ain’t gonna try to fuck you, it’s Mr. Creepy pants over there.”  He nodded towards Alastor who was talking with Charlie. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Good to know. Well, I got to get going guys, see you tomorrow.” 

As you made your way up the stairs to your apartment, you worried. There was no way you’d be paid in time to keep your apartment, even if you were, you were a month behind. Your keys jingled in the lock as you swung the door open. Your apartment was a tiny studio. Empty kitchen, mattress on the floor, nothing to write home about. But tonight there was one thing in your apartment that didn’t belong there. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” There, sitting on your counter was Vox. “Please, let yourself in. Make yourself at home.” 

“Aw come on babe, don’t be like that.”

“And how should I be?” you asked aggressively.

“Are you still mad? Aw, dollface, you know I’m sorry.” He hopped off the counter and walked towards you. “I want you back, come home with me, please?” 

“Fuck off Vox.”

“I promise I’ll make it up to you, I miss you. Plus my new assistant is garrrrrbaaaage.” 

“You are really something, you know that? It’s been three months. Three months I’ve been gone and you haven’t reached out once.” 

“I wanted to give you your space. But don’t you think it’s been long enough, doll?” He pouted. “Plus you need somewhere to live, you’ve-”

“Oh. My. God.” You cut him off. “You bought this building, didn’t you? Just so you could evict me? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS!?” 

“Just a little motivation, that’s all.” 

“The manipulation never ends with you, does it?” You were wide-eyed, angry.

“Oh please, you want to talk manipulation? You think I wouldn’t find out about your new little job?” He scoffed. “Low blow, babe. Working for Alastor just to get back at me?” 

“I know there is nothing I can say to make you believe otherwise, but not everything is about you. I couldn’t find any other job, I have no idea why but no one else would…..” You paused as it clicked in your mind. You took a deep breath and sighed. “You’ve been sabotaging that too, haven’t you? The hotel was the only job you didn’t have power over.” You started to laugh. “That’s just too brilliant. All your efforts and now I’m the one place you can’t reach me.” 

That pissed him off. Vox pushed you against the wall, you continued to laugh. Vox had become unfamiliar with not getting what he wanted. People went out of their way to please him, including you. But not anymore and he didn’t like it. 

“Quit being a bitch about this. I said I was sorry. If you don’t want to work, that’s fine.” His voice softened. “Babe, I’ll take care of you.” He ran his finger down your cheek. “Come back, please.” 

You were struggling to ignore the wetness between your legs. You were desperate to feel close to someone, you’d been lonely and in truth, missed Vox quite a bit. 

“You can’t talk your way out of this one.” You avoided looking him in the eye.

“Don’t actions speak louder than words?” The hand at your cheek ran its fingers through your hair. His other hand pulled you into him by your waist. Holding your breath, you tensed as he leaned in. You bit your lip. “See, you missed me too.” 

Your brain was screaming, alarms going off. Don’t give in, don’t be weak! But it was too late. Vox’s tongue was exploring your mouth, and the ache in your loins was throbbing. He knew he had you. The hand at your waist drifted down to your thigh, his fingers pushed your panties to the side, sliding between your lips. 

“Fuck, doll, you are so wet right now.” He sunk two fingers into you, and you held his shoulders as you gasped, every muscle clenching. Leaning his screen on your forehead, he whispered. “Mmm fuck, I’ve missed you so much.” 

His fingers moved in and out of you, slowly, as his thumb grazed your clit. You felt the heat rise within your whole body. You’d given in and didn’t care. Things had been difficult, you were exhausted and ate up the idea of forgetting everything for a few moments. You wanted to feel loved more than anything, even though you knew deep down it wasn’t real, it wouldn’t last. Your hand ran down his chest, palm cupping his hard cock under his pants. He moaned softly. His fingers became more aggressive, fueled by need. Your hand fumbled to find his belt, clawing at it, desperately trying to unbuckle it while he pummeled your wet cunt with his claws. 

“You want my cock so bad, don’t you doll?” His free hand whipped the belt off him, and he dropped his slacks to his ankles, freeing his pulsing erection. You gripped his dick in your hand, he moaned as you ran your fingers up and down it slowly. “MMM. You want it, baby? Show me how much you want it.” 

His fingers pulled out of you, leaving you feeling hollow and a smear of wetness between your thighs. You lowered to your knees, licking his engorged head. Licking Vox’s penis was a lot like licking a battery, a light electrical sensation ran through your tongue. He spread his fingers, observing the strings of cum hanging between them, before placing them in his mouth. You were massaging with your tongue when his other hand gripped the back of your head, shoving your face closer to his body. His cock hit the back of your throat with a gag. 

“Uuuhhhmmph! G̷̩̥̪̠̃͂̂͋̕̕ͅŏ̴̢͉̥̘̀̇̑̾̃̋̚̚ḑ̵̝͍̟̼͕̭̯̝̗̯̇͆͗̔̂̊͠a̸̧̺̮͕̦͖̝̻͓̠̱͎̻̤̓͒̊͂̿͊͂͋̊̚ͅm̶̳̙̆͆̀̈͆̔n̴̙̲͙͕̅ babe.”

Relaxing your jaw, you let him fuck your face. Tears welled up in the corner of your eyes from suppressing your gags. He pulled your head back to look at the mess he’d made of you. Running his tip over your lips.

“Fuck me, please,” you softly whined.

“Anything for you, babe.”

Still holding a tight grip on your hair, he guided you to your feet before shoving you onto the bed. You laid back, resting on your elbows, legs open. Vox slotted himself between them. He ran his tip up and down between your sopping-wet lips, humming at the sensation. 

“I love it when you look so needy, don’t worry hun, I’m going to make you feel so good.”

You bit your lip in anticipation, laying back fully on the bed. Leaning over you now, in one thrust he inserted the entirety of his shaft into you. You cried out, in both pleasure and pain. He gripped your throat as he relentlessly punished your cunt with his dick. Vox let out a pleasured grunt as your soft tissues clenched around him. The wet slap of his pelvis meeting yours was divine, but it was the cries you made that sent him closer and closer to climax. 

“F̸̛̛̱̤͇̘̬͙̪͌̍͛̔̉̍u̶̪̗̝̅̿̄́̆̉̎͘͠͠ǔ̶̧͖͈̦̺̹͈̳̹͙͉̤̱̍̎̈͗̓̈́͋̓̏ừ̸͉̪̇̈́̌̍̌̂͂̊͒̀̕ç̴̡̲̲̼̠͙̖̺̮̝̻̟̃̉̒̓̑̐́̏͌̎̊͘̚͠ͅc̵̨͔͕̉͑̾͊̇̾͑̒̾̑̋͠ͅk̵̨͙̜̦͔̗͚͊͑…” His screen glitched as he bottomed out, over and over.

"Please..." your eyes rolled up into your head. “Please… Please Vox” 

“You know how much I love it when you beg,” he growled. “I’m going to make you cum so hard, you won't be able to walk.”  

His thrusts became shorter and harder, close to the end. He was holding off his climax the best he could, craving the feeling of you cumming all over his cock. You were close, the build-up was knotting up in you. You knew the neighbors could probably hear you at this point, you no longer had any control over the sounds escaping your slacked-open mouth. And with a jagged gasp, you squirted, riding the waves of orgasm. Vox hissed as the tightening of your walls sucked him into you, filling you with his own release. Your jaw chattered as a small surge of electricity washed over your body with his orgasm. You both remained motionless for a few moments, catching your breaths before he slowly pulled out of you. He collapsed on the bed next to you, you rolled to your side to meet his gaze. 

“You know I’m sorry, right?” his tone was sincere as he cradled your cheek in his hand. 

“I do,” you tried to give him a smile, but the tears were already building in your eyes. “I believe you, that you are sorry. I can even forgive you, eventually. But it doesn’t change what happened.” 

“I can make it up to you, I promise. Please give me the chance.” 

“How can I? You hypnotized me and broke my trust. It makes me question everything.” 

“I know,” he sighed. “It was fucked up of me. I swear I’ll never do it again, we can even make a deal. Just.. come back.. Please.” 

“How many times though? Before I found out?” Vox felt a heaviness in his chest. Guilt ran across his face. “Are my feelings for you even real? Was any of it?” 

The tears were streaming, making a large wet spot on your pillow. 

“We can start over. I know it will take time but let me try to earn your trust again.”

“I’m sorry. But for once you have to live with the consequences of your actions.” You tried to wipe the tears away. 

The look of hurt on his screen was unbearable. It took everything to shove down the burning in your throat. You knew you couldn’t keep the strength to tell him no, not when he looked so pained. 

“I’m sorry Vox. You should go.” Your jaw shook as you let out a sob. You rolled over, turning your back to him. 

You wanted more than anything right now for things to go back the way it was. Blissfully ignorant. The moments when it was just you and Vox, who he was without the other Vs. The late nights, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. The flutters you’d feel from the way he’d glance at you in meetings. But things had become too broken to fix. Your heart ached. 

Vox reached out to touch you and hesitated, he swallowed hard. While, yes, he had made some poor choices. He did miss you, you were his relief from the day. Where he found comfort when Val was being too much. When the pressure of being who he was as an overlord became too heavy. He tried to tell himself otherwise but the cruel reality of it sunk in when you left. The realization that he took you for granted. 

You heard the crackle of electricity and with that Vox was gone. You let go of the strength, and the burning pain flooding up from your chest, exploding. You let out a loud wail. Curling into a ball holding yourself, you blubbered into your pillow. You cried for what felt like forever until you were completely empty and raw. 

Only then did you fall asleep.