#but i could HEAR it . it came to me in a vision

[creamflix]

IF I WAS A BAD BITCH, I'D WANNA F★CK ME TOO! ( PART 2 )  ၄၃ gojo satoru x female reader x (female?!) gojo satoru 

18+ content, minors and blank blogs do not interact. established relationship. threesome featuring m & f gojo. dom! gojo(s), sub reader. bisexual reader. lots of crack. slight hurt & angst with comfort, existential crisis. somewhat rapid scene change. making out. implied quickie. mentions and use of sex toys (suction vibrator). overstimulation. fingering (f. recieving). slight voyuerism & cucking. cum play/eating. (guided) hand job. face sitting (go lesbians!!). p in v (missionary). somewhat marathon sex.

thank you all so much for the love on the previous fic :") i'm so glad you all see my vision, which is why i find much happiness in letting you know we're making this a series - nothing too serious or story driven, just a bunch of porn with plot oneshots for your reading plesure. :D i wrote female gojo with @owwllly's version in mind, so please show them your love xx

dedicated as always to my pookie daph aka @curtins , my fav bi icon @sugoroo & my lovely taglist. now if you'll excuse me, i'm going to take a veeryyy long nap. ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა

— general masterlist ☆ read on ao3 ☆ series masterlist

morning, if you could even call it that, felt like stepping into the twilight zone. 

the sunlight creeping through the windows was annoyingly cheerful considering the depraved antics of the night before, and you were dead sure your neighbors were contemplating a noise complaint.

yet, here you were, trying to make sense of the utter chaos that came with two versions of your boyfriend.

it started with a groping. a teasing squeeze to your ass that you didn’t even flinch at — classic satoru. 

except, when you turned to glare at him, ready to smack that stupid smirk off his face, you were met with her instead, casually twirling her white hair around her fingers.

“oh, was that not me? so sorry,” fem-toru (you had to call her something) said with the most shit-eating grin known to mankind.

“what the hell, woman?!” gojo bellowed from across the room, instantly at your side and scooping you up like you were a damsel in distress. “she doesn’t get to touch what’s mine!”

“what are you gonna do, sue me?” she teased, leaning against the counter with a smug tilt to her head.

gojo growled, the real one — or, male one? whatever — already dragging you off toward the bathroom. “don’t wait up,” he called over his shoulder.

“ew, like i’d wanna hear that,” she called back, although her smirk said otherwise.

and that was just the beginning.

when you finally emerged from round… whatever that was, the war for coffee mugs was already in full swing.

“that’s my mug!” you groaned, snatching at the familiar blue ceramic, only for it to be pulled just out of reach by fem-toru.

“finders keepers, babe,” she quipped, taking a long sip with a completely unapologetic look.

“you’re not even supposed to be here!” you hissed, trying to snatch it back.

“it’s my house too,” male gojo chimed in unhelpfully, hogging the last clean mug himself.

“not your house —” you paused, narrowing your eyes at the two of them.

“i’m going to need so much therapy after this.”

“probably,” they both said in perfect unison, which was both creepy and infuriating.

and then there was the final straw.

“you don’t need to borrow my bras,” you snapped at fem-toru, watching in horror as she rooted through your drawer, holding up one of your lacy favorites.

“but they’re so cuuuteee!” she whined, shamelessly sliding the straps over her shoulders to model it. “plus, i don’t have anything in my size. talk to him about that,” she added, jerking her thumb toward her male counterpart.

“don’t drag me into this!” gojo groaned, holding his head as though he were already plagued by a migraine.

“both of you, out!” you barked, finally snapping under the weight of their collective nonsense.

but as you flopped back onto the bed after shoving both of them out of the room, you couldn’t help but smile. the chaos, the absurdity — it felt oddly right, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

...even if you had to figure out how to hide your lingerie from a certain someone.

⋆˙⟡ —

you could practically feel the ground begging to swallow you whole as your elderly neighbor — a sweet lady who baked cookies and fed stray cats — stood at your doorstep with an expression that bordered on scandalized and horrified.

"dear, i just wanted to make sure everything was... alright last night," she began, her voice trembling slightly, but it was hard to tell if it was from age or pure shock. "i thought maybe something had fallen. or —" she paused, wringing her hands, "someone had fallen... repeatedly."

before you could stammer out a half-baked apology, both gojos emerged from behind you like twin specters of your shame, looking every bit as debauched as you felt.

gojo, with his signature grin, leaned lazily against the doorframe, his messy hair and unbuttoned shirt doing absolutely nothing to help the situation. "oh, don’t worry, ma’am. just some, uh, vigorous... exercise," he chirped, flashing a dazzling smile that could melt glaciers but definitely not the horror etched into her face.

fem gojo popped her head out next, her wolf-cut disheveled and a hickey darkening her collarbone. "he means cardio," she added helpfully, as if that made it any better.

"cardio?" your neighbor echoed, clutching her chest as her eyes darted between the three of you.

"yeah! it's important to stay fit, ya know," fem gojo continued, placing a hand on your shoulder as if you needed moral support through this ordeal.

"and loud," male gojo added with a smirk.

you wanted to die.

"i-i see," your neighbor stammered, her gaze now firmly fixed on the floor as she shuffled back a step. "well, um, maybe next time you could... exercise a little quieter?"

"we’ll keep it down, promise!" fem gojo called after her as the door gently shut in your neighbor's retreating wake.

as soon as it clicked shut, you whirled around, smacking both gojos on their respective arms. 

"are you kidding me? cardio?!"

"what?" male gojo grinned, rubbing his arm. "it’s technically not a lie."

"and honestly," fem-toru added with a wink, "for our age, we're doing amazing."

"you’re not even old," you hissed, burying your face in your hands.

"exactly," male gojo quipped, draping an arm around you. "so no excuses for round two."

fem-toru smirked, leaning in with a sultry whisper. "or round twelve. you’re practically a pro now."

you groaned. this was your life now.

⋆˙⟡ —

you were about two seconds away from flinging the carton of eggs in your hand when you felt her — fem gojo, femtoru, whatever her name was — sidling up behind you like a heat-seeking missile.

“what the — ?!” you whipped around, heart hammering in your chest, only for her to give you that infuriating, all-too-familiar smirk.

"miss me?" she purred, leaning in close enough that her outrageously large rack brushed against your shoulder.

"how the hell did you even get here?!" you hissed, glancing around the aisle nervously as a mom with two toddlers gave you a raised eyebrow before continuing down the cereal section.

she pouted dramatically, looping an arm around your waist as if you weren’t about to die of embarrassment. "what, you thought a lil’ lock and key could keep me away? puh-lease, babe. i invented escapism."

"you’re kidding me," you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"oh, and don’t worry about satoru," she added, resting her chin on your shoulder as if you weren’t vibrating with anxiety. "i tied him up real good before leaving. pretty sure he's still trying to figure out how to untangle his legs."

"you did what?!" your voice cracked, drawing the attention of an elderly man perusing the soup cans nearby.

"relax," she whispered, nuzzling her nose into your neck. "he’ll be here any second. y’know how he is — doesn’t like to be left out."

as if on cue, a loud crash came from the store's automatic doors, and there he was — your boyfriend, his hair still a mess, shirt misbuttoned, and his expression a cocktail of irritation and smug determination.

"sweetheart!" he called, jogging down the aisles with zero regard for the stares he was attracting. "fem-me tied me up with my own blindfold. again. can you believe that?"

"i absolutely can," you snapped, trying to suppress the migraine threatening to bloom.

"soooo clingy, aren’t we?" femtoru teased, pressing even closer to your back. "you couldn’t even let me have ten minutes alone with her, could you?"

"ten minutes alone, my ass!" he barked, glaring at his female counterpart. "you kidnapped her! again!"

“‘s not kidnappin’ when she enjoys my company,” she quipped, smirking as she leaned over to inspect the snack shelf, her cleavage doing things you’d rather not admit out loud.

"you are literally me," your boyfriend shot back, clearly nearing the end of his patience.

“and that’s why she likes me better,” fem gojo said sweetly, tossing a bag of chips into your cart with an infuriating wink.

“both of you need to shut up,” you hissed, grabbing the cart and storming toward the checkout. “and stop dragging me into your circus act every time i try to do something normal — like buying goddamn groceries!”

but, of course, they followed, bickering like siblings the entire time. and you? you contemplated whether life in a hermitage was really that bad.

⋆˙⟡ —

the moment you placed your items on the conveyor belt, you prayed for a quick, smooth transaction. but, of course, with them around, that was wishful thinking.

“hey, y/n,” jess greeted with her usual cheery smile, scanning your items. she was sweet — always polite, never overly invasive, but you could see the curiosity bubbling just beneath the surface as her gaze flicked between you and the two absolute menaces standing behind you.

“hey, jess,” you muttered, trying to focus on the beep of the scanner rather than the chaos looming behind you.

your boyfriend was already muttering to himself, his black glasses perched low on his nose as he glared daggers at his female counterpart. 

“goddamn wolfcut copycat... walking around like she owns the place... like i don’t have patents on being hot and annoying —”

“what was that, lover boy?” fem gojo teased, scratching at the nape of her neck, her perfectly styled wolfcut catching the overhead lights just right. her bright blue eyes were unhidden, and they sparkled with amusement as she leaned against the counter like she belonged there.

“lover boy?” satoru spat, his tone dripping with disdain. “you’ve got some nerve calling me that when you’re standing there looking like a discount version of me with tits.”

“discount?!” femtoru gasped, clutching her chest in mock outrage. “excuse me, but these,” she motioned to her ample figure, “are luxury items, thank you very much. unlike your scrawny pecs.”

you buried your face in your hands as jess froze mid-scan, clearly fighting the urge to either laugh or run for her life.

“so, uh…” jess began cautiously, trying to salvage the small talk. “doing anything fun later today?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but fem gojo beat you to it.

“oh, just a casual threesome,” she said with a wicked grin, winking at the poor cashier.

you choked. satoru groaned. jess went so red you thought she might pass out.

“shut up,” satoru hissed, grabbing fem gojo by the collar and dragging her back. “don’t you dare embarrass her in public.”

“oh, ‘m sorry,” femtoru drawled, clearly not sorry at all. “did i strike a nerve, lover boy?”

“that’s it. when we get home, i’m locking you in the closet.”

“aww, das kinda freaky —”

“not like that!”

jess handed you your receipt with trembling hands, her polite smile firmly in place despite her obvious confusion. “have a nice day,” she said, her voice a little too high-pitched.

“yeah, thanks,” you muttered, grabbing your bags and speed-walking out of the store, your two walking headaches trailing behind you, still arguing like children.

as the automatic doors closed behind you, satoru grumbled, “this is why i don’t let you out in public.”

“oh, please,” fem gojo shot back, tossing her hair. “if anything, i made it better.”

you didn’t dignify that with a response. you just kept walking, silently wondering if there was a refund policy for boyfriends — and their alternate versions.

the walk back home was a blur of bickering, your thighs still trembling from the "little assistance" fem gojo had oh-so-graciously offered during your "quick trip" back home. satoru — male satoru, your actual boyfriend, not the ridiculous female menace still trailing after you — was muttering something about how he should’ve strangled her then and there between the bread aisle and frozen foods.

you, meanwhile, were trying to stay upright and hold onto the groceries without collapsing from sheer embarrassment and, well... exhaustion.

⋆˙⟡ —

it wasn’t uncommon for fem gojo to be her usual chaotic self — hell, the woman was a walking hurricane of snark, gropes, and unnecessary comments. she introduced herself as “your lady” to strangers whenever your boyfriend wasn’t around, thoroughly enjoying the chaos that title caused. it was all part of the act, the cocky smirk, the teasing eyes — but you were no fool. 

you’d caught the cracks in her facade more than once.

like the way her gaze lingered when you and gojo were tangled together, not in lust but something softer, more intimate. she’d watch the two of you from the corner of the room, her smile dimming for just a second before snapping back into place.

or how she’d stand in front of the mirror when she thought no one was looking. her bright blue eyes would trace her reflection, not with admiration but with a quiet, unspoken question. who am i now?

it tugged at something deep in your chest. for all her antics, you couldn’t ignore the truth — this strange predicament had to be hitting her harder than either of you could imagine.

so, when she sauntered into your room one evening, catching you brushing your hair, you weren’t entirely surprised when she leaned against the doorframe, watching you silently.

“need something?” you asked, keeping your tone light.

“just admirin’ the view,” she said with a sly grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

you rolled your eyes but didn’t press her, focusing back on your reflection. she stepped closer, and before you knew it, her hands were on your shoulders, her breath warm against your ear.

“y’know,” she murmured, her voice softer than usual, “i think you’re wastin’ all that sweetness on him.”

“listen, if you’re about to ask for a kiss —”

she didn’t even let you finish before pressing her lips against yours, hands cradling your face as if her life depended on it. it was messy, desperate, and entirely uncalled for.

you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, staring at her wide-eyed. “okay, what was that?”

her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. she looked at you, then down at her hands as if she were trying to piece something together. finally, she sighed, leaning her forehead against yours.

“you and him,” she started, her voice barely above a whisper, “you make it look so easy. being... someone.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability. “‘toru...”

“don’t — don’t make this a thing,” she interrupted, laughing weakly. “’m not good at this. i just — wanna say thanks. for, y’know, not treatin’ me like some freak.”

her words hung heavy in the air, but before you could respond, she kissed you again. this time slower, deeper, her hands tangling in your hair as if trying to pour everything she couldn’t say into the kiss.

it was... a lot. but as her lips moved against yours, you decided to let her have this moment. 

maybe it was what she needed — a way to feel grounded, even if just for a little while.

before you could even process what was happening, she had swept you off your feet — literally. in one fluid motion, her strong arms cradled you, and the next thing you knew, she was laying you down gently on the bed.

but this wasn’t like the usual antics you’d grown accustomed to. there was no teasing smirk, no biting sarcasm. her eyes, usually so sharp with mischief, were soft, almost glassy, her lips trembling like she was struggling to find the right words.

“please,” she whispered, voice breaking as she knelt beside you, hands hovering as if afraid to touch you too much. “lemme... lemme take care of you. just this once.”

it was so unlike her — so raw, so vulnerable — that it physically hurt to see her like this. this wasn’t the same brazen, overconfident fem gojo who pushed your buttons. 

this was satoru, stripped bare of all the bravado.

your heart clenched as you reached for her, pulling her into a kiss, softer this time. you tangled your fingers in her snowy white hair, feeling her shudder against you.

“satoru,” you murmured, her name rolling off your tongue as naturally as breathing.

hearing her name — her name — from you seemed to break her entirely. she melted into you, her body caging yours as she kissed you like you were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

and maybe, for that moment, you were.

normally, she’d be cocky about this — the teasing smirks, the knowing winks, the flirty little comments about how lucky you were to have her. but now, as she pulls back from your lips, her face hidden in the crook of your neck, it hits you like a truck: she’s not about to kiss you again, or nip at your skin.

she’s crying.

satoru gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive — gender be damned — is crying.

you freeze for a moment, unsure of what to do, until you feel her body tremble against yours. 

then the sound comes — soft, stuttering sobs that claw at your heart.

“satoru,” you whisper, threading your fingers gently through her wolfcut, your nails grazing her scalp in soothing motions. “hey, it’s okay. ’s okay.”

her arms tighten around you, her weight completely draped over you as though she’s trying to bury herself in you, seeking solace in the only safe haven she knows.

“’m sorry,” she chokes out, voice muffled and shaking. “i’m... ion even know what’s happenin’ to me.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” you murmur, pressing your lips softly to her temple. “you don’t always have to be strong, you know. not with me.”

her sobs grow heavier, and you hold her closer, shushing her gently.

“you’re okay, satoru,” you reassure her, even as your own throat tightens with emotion. “i’ve got you.”

she clings to you, her tears soaking into your skin as you run your fingers through her hair, murmuring soft words of comfort. for once, there’s no strongest, no cocky remarks, no facade. just satoru, raw and vulnerable, seeking the comfort she so rarely lets herself need.

⋆˙⟡ —

gojo was already halfway through the door, his trademark bravado in full force as he prepared to yell and drag his female counterpart off you. he was ready to reprimand her for trying to get into his girlfriend’s pants — again.

but then he froze.

the sight before him should’ve sent him into a fit of rage: her large frame draped over yours, her hands clutching you tightly, your fingers stroking her hair. it was intimate, far too intimate. but it wasn’t the position that stopped him. it was the sound.

soft, stuttering cries filled the room, muffled against your neck.

his jaw tightened as his eyes flicked to hers — those same brilliant blue orbs he saw every day in the mirror. but this time, they weren’t filled with mischief or lust. 

they were red, puffy, glistening with tears. the same look he’s seen reflected back at himself during the rare moments he allowed himself to break.

it hit him like a punch to the gut.

for all her cocky remarks, her sly smirks, her shameless antics, he recognized what she was feeling. he knew it too well.

and when her tear-streaked face turned to meet his gaze, it wasn’t with her usual defiance or teasing. it was raw, filled with an unspoken plea he understood without words.

gojo swallowed thickly, his fists clenching at his sides. for a moment, he hated seeing himself like that — so exposed, so... human.

“you’re just like me,” he murmured under his breath, his voice barely audible as his heart twisted in his chest.

and for the first time, he didn’t barge in, didn’t yell or tease. instead, he stood there, watching as you cradled the part of him he didn’t let anyone else see.

gojo stood there for a beat too long, debating whether to leave or join. he knew what fem-gojo was feeling — hell, it was his feelings, wasn’t it? — but addressing them? with words? that wasn’t exactly his strong suit.

he cleared his throat awkwardly, and both you and satoru turned your heads toward him.

"uh, hey," he started, scratching the back of his neck. "so, uh... group hug or what?"

you snorted, shaking your head. "get in here, you idiot."

“don’t call me that in front of her,” he grumbled, pointing at his counterpart, though he quickly shuffled over. fem-gojo raised her head slightly, glaring through her tears.

“you mean me? the better you?” she snarked, though her voice cracked halfway through.

gojo rolled his eyes but crawled onto the bed, situating himself next to the two of you. "yeah, better at crying, maybe."

"oh, like you don’t cry," she shot back, sniffing.

“never. not once. you’re a glitch in the matrix or sumn',” he said, pulling a face that immediately earned him a smack on the arm from you.

“satoru,” you warned.

“fine, fine.” he let out a long sigh, glancing at fem-gojo before finally reaching out, hesitantly patting her on the back. “there, there, uh... me?”

you burst out laughing despite yourself, covering your mouth with a hand as satoru shot you an exasperated look.

“don’t laugh! it's weird!” he protested, his hand still awkwardly rubbing her back in tiny, unsure circles.

fem-gojo let out a watery laugh through her sniffles, leaning her head back on your shoulder. "god, you’re pathetic."

“pathetic?! i’m not the one crying into someone else’s neck right now!”

“you’re literally crying on the inside right now,” she countered.

gojo froze, his hand stopping mid-pat. "...you shut up."

you rolled your eyes, tugging gojo closer so that he was sitting flush against fem-gojo. "look, you both are disasters. but you’re the same disaster, so maybe... i don’t know, figure it out together?"

satoru frowned, glancing at her again. his fingers twitched. "look, uh... you don’t have to... like, cry or whatever. i mean, i get it. i do."

“wow, deep,” she said, though her voice was softer.

he huffed, crossing his arms. "hey, it is deep! do you know how hard it is for me to open up like this?!”

“you call this opening up?” she muttered, but there was a flicker of a smile on her lips now.

“oh, don’t you start —”

you silenced him with a gentle nudge, smiling as you reached over to intertwine your fingers with his. "you’re doing great, babe."

he narrowed his eyes at you but eventually sighed, letting his head drop back against the headboard. "look, just... we’re the strongest, okay? we’ll get through... whatever this is. together. and maybe with mochi. lots of mochi."

fem-gojo finally let out a real laugh, her tears drying up as she wiped at her eyes. "god, you really are a loser."

“yeah, well, you’re stuck with me. literally.”

you couldn’t help but grin as you looked between them, the two most chaotic, emotionally constipated people in your life finally finding some common ground. even if it was over their mutual awkwardness.

"so... mochi, then?" you teased.

"go get some," they said in unison, both turning to you with the same expectant look.

"oh, you’ve got to be kidding me."

⋆˙⟡ —

you shuffled into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of daifuku mochi — the fancy ones he insisted on buying in bulk from that one upscale japanese market downtown. because of course he had to have the best mochi.

as you made your way back to the bedroom, tired and a little cranky, the sound of gojo’s voice drifted out into the hallway. at first, you thought nothing of it — probably just him and fem-gojo bickering again — but then the words registered.

“oh, and this one — this bad boy’s a classic,” gojo was saying, his tone tinged with nostalgia. “the first time we used it, she couldn’t walk for, like, two days.”

you stopped in your tracks.

“are you serious? that’s what you chose to bring up?” fem-gojo’s voice replied, though it sounded more amused than judgmental.

“hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” he shot back, and you heard a muffled sound, presumably the toy being held up for emphasis.

you slowly pushed the door open, and sure enough, there was gojo, sitting cross-legged on the bed with the most ridiculous grin plastered on his face. in one hand, he held your trusty pink wand vibrator, and in the other, a butt plug with a gem on the end — both of which he displayed like prized trophies.

fem-gojo was lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, watching him with thinly veiled amusement. “so what’s that one?” she asked, pointing at the silicone dildo beside him.

“oh, that? that’s the one we used during her birthday last year,” he said with a wistful sigh, holding it up like it was some kind of holy relic. “man, what a night. she screamed so loud that the neighbors banged on the wall.”

your face burned as you stumbled into the room, nearly dropping the bag of mochi. "what the hell are you two doing?!"

both heads turned toward you in unison, blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

“oh, hey, babe,” gojo said, waving the butt plug at you like it was a greeting. “we were just reminiscing.”

“yeah,” fem-gojo chimed in, smirking. “your man here is really sentimental, huh? ’s kinda cute.”

“sentimental?” you repeated, glaring at your boyfriend.

he shrugged, completely unfazed. “what? these are like, milestones in our relationship. you can’t just throw these memories away.”

“memories? memories?!” you groaned, setting the mochi down on the nightstand. “‘toru, do you hear yourself? you sound like a pervert!”

“oh, c’mooon, don’t be like that,” he pouted, leaning forward to grab the bag of mochi. “besides, you love me. and her, apparently.”

“barely,” you muttered, though the heat in your face betrayed you.

“aw, don’t be shy, babe,” fem-gojo teased, rolling onto her back and stretching languidly. “you know you’re lucky to have two of us.”

“lucky? my back says otherwise.”

the two of them burst into laughter, and you buried your face in your hands, wondering for the millionth time how you’d ended up in this situation.

and as if they could read your mind, gojo leaned over, patting the space next to him. “c’mere, don’t be mad. let’s eat some mochi and talk about that other toy we’ve been meaning to try.”

you groaned, flopping onto the bed in defeat. “i hate both of you.”

“lies,” they chorused, and you couldn’t help but laugh despite yourself.

⋆˙⟡ —

you were trying — really trying — to enjoy the packet of daifuku mochi as it made its way around the bed. the sweet bean paste was supposed to be a distraction, a way to ground yourself after everything that had transpired over the last 24 hours. 

but no, peace wasn’t an option.

"ya know," gojo said through a mouthful of mochi, holding up the wand vibrator like it was a microphone, "this one’s underrated. it looks basic, but the power, babe. remember how —"

"we get it, ‘toru," you cut him off, your voice strained as you grabbed another mochi to shove into your mouth. maybe if you kept chewing, you wouldn’t have to participate in this conversation.

fem-gojo snickered, popping a mochi into her own mouth before leaning closer to you. “you’re bein’ shy, huh? don’t worry, sweetheart, we know how much you looovve this one.” she waggled her eyebrows, motioning at the very wand vibrator in question.

you could feel your face heating up to a level that could rival the sun. “can you two not talk about this right in front of me?”

“but why not?” gojo teased, sliding closer until his thigh was pressed against yours. “’s not like you’re embarrassed, are you? you’ve used all of these.”

"i will throw this entire bag of mochi at your head," you muttered, holding the packet threateningly.

“aw, don’t be like that, doll,” fem-gojo cooed, her voice sugary sweet, though the mischievous glint in her eyes said otherwise. “we’re just reminiscing. plus, you’re blushin’, which means you’re totally into it.”

you glared at her, cheeks practically burning. “i’m blushing because you two won’t shut up.”

but the truth? the truth was much worse. as much as you hated to admit it, their teasing was doing things to you. the way their voices dropped an octave when they reminisced, the heat in their gazes, the proximity — all of it made your thighs clench involuntarily.

and you prayed to every deity you could think of that they couldn’t tell.

unfortunately, subtlety wasn’t your strong suit, and these two were anything but oblivious.

fem-gojo leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “what’s wrong, sweetheart? ya squirmin’ a lot.”

you froze, eyes darting to gojo, who was already smirking. "you’re awfully quiet now," he remarked, his hand casually resting on your thigh. "something on your mind?"

"nothing," you squeaked, clenching the mochi packet in your hands like it was a lifeline.

"reaallly?" fem-gojo purred, her hand trailing dangerously close to the hem of your shorts. "’cuz babe, we can feel how worked up you are."

your breath hitched, and you cursed your body for betraying you. “you two are insufferable.”

gojo laughed, his hand sliding up your thigh to join his female counterpart. “nah, we’re just really good at reading you. isn’t that right, satoru?”

fem-gojo grinned wickedly, her fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “totally. we’re a team, after all.”

you groaned, burying your face in your hands as the heat pooling in your stomach became impossible to ignore.

“look at that,” gojo said, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “our girl’s shy, but she’s soaked.”

“think we should help her out?” fem-gojo added, her tone faux-innocent as her hand slipped higher.

you had shitty luck. definitely shitty luck. and as much as you hated to admit it, you weren’t about to stop them. not when their touch felt this good.

⋆˙⟡ —

you've always thought the saying keep your friends close, but your enemies closer was a decent piece of advice. practical, even. 

apparently, the two white-haired nuisances misheard it as keep your girlfriend close, but her sex toys closer, because right now, they were parading around the room with the entire collection of your toys like salesmen at a bizarrely personal convention.

“this one,” fem gojo started, holding up the suction vibrator with a devious grin, “‘s a classic. compact, effective, and i know someone here loves how quick it can get her to cum.”

“oh, but this —” gojo’s voice cut in as she brandished the glass dildo, twirling it like a baton. “this is art. sleek, sexy, and cold in all the right ways. remember that night when —”

“nope!” you interrupted, your face heating up as you snatched a nearby pillow to throw at him. “we are not going there.”

“oh, babe, we’re just gettin’ started,” fem-gojo teased. “don’t forget this bad boy.” she held up the dual-ended strap-on, dangling it in front of you like it was a prized possession.

you groaned, sinking deeper into the mattress as your face burned hotter. “why do you even have that?”

fem-gojo grinned, plopping down next to you with the butt plug in hand. “because you’re adventurous. and we love that about you.”

"and let's not forget," gojo added, leaning over to waggle the remote-controlled egg vibrator like it was a trophy. "this one. great for public and private use. remember that restaurant trip?"

"i will actually scream," you muttered, dragging the blanket over your head as if it could shield you from their antics.

"awwww, don’t hide, sweetheart," fem-gojo cooed, tugging the blanket away. “we’re just brainstormin’ here. picking out what’ll make the day extra fun.”

“yeah,” gojo agreed, dropping the pile of toys onto the bed before climbing on top of you. “but honestly, we’ll probably just use all of them. right, satoru?”

fem-gojo smirked, crawling up beside you. “absolutely. variety’s the spice of life, after all.”

you opened your mouth to protest, but before you could get a word out, your boyfriend had flipped you onto your stomach, his weight pressing you into the mattress as his hands pinned yours above your head.

“we’ll let you pick,” he murmured against your ear, his voice dripping with faux kindness.

“for, like, two seconds,” fem-gojo chimed in, her hands already tracing down your sides.

“and then we’ll do whatever we want,” they said in unison, their voices harmonizing in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

you were doomed. delightfully, utterly doomed.

you barely had a second to process what was happening. one minute, you were watching them bicker like overgrown children, and the next, the suction vibrator was pressed firmly against you, its unrelenting rhythm leaving your mind blank except for one resounding thought:

fuck! fuck! fuck!

your pleas — if you could even call them that — were an unintelligible mess. and to make things worse? they weren’t even listening.

“please — ah! — don’t stop!” you cried, your body trembling as the sensations overwhelmed you.

“oh, don’t worry, sweetheart,” gojo drawled from his spot beside you, his grin sharp as ever. “we don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

“yeah,” fem-gojo chimed in, her tone equally as sadistic as she pressed the toy down harder, watching your body jerk with morbid fascination. “you���re s’cute when you’re beggin’, though. keep going.”

you gasped, your back arching involuntarily as another orgasm crashed over you. your legs twitched, trying to close around the relentless toy, but fem-gojo tutted, holding you open with ease.

and then you noticed it — she wasn’t even paying full attention anymore.

“are you — are you seriously eating right now?” you managed to choke out between gasps, your glazed eyes flicking to her free hand, which was holding a piece of mochi.

“hm?” fem-gojo looked up mid-bite, her bright eyes wide with mock innocence. “what? girl’s gotta keep her energy up. besides, ya got him —” she nodded toward your boyfriend, who was leaning over you with the smuggest, most shit-eating grin ever — “to keep ya entertained.”

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” you whimpered, squirming as gojo replaced the suction vibrator with his fingers, curling them just right to draw out another cry from your lips.

“hey, i’m working here,” your boyfriend said, his tone dripping with faux exasperation as if he were the one being put through the wringer. “she’s just freeloading.”

“excuse me?” fem-gojo huffed, swallowing her bite dramatically. “i set this whole thing up. i’m the mastermind here!”

“yeah, yeah,” gojo muttered, his attention fully on you now as he leaned down to nip at your ear. “she’s not the one ruining you right now, though, is she?”

“as if you could do this without me,” fem-gojo shot back, shoving another piece of mochi into her mouth as she casually flicked the suction vibrator back on, earning a loud, desperate moan from you.

your head spun, torn between pleasure and sheer disbelief. and as another wave of a telltale orgasm built in your stomach, you realized with absolute certainty that surviving these two was going to take a miracle — or at least a lot more snacks to keep one of them distracted.

⋆˙⟡ —

you’d lost track of time, of everything really, as the relentless assault on your body continued. 

it had only been — what? three orgasms ago? — when you thought you’d truly reached your limit, but nope. the suction vibrator was living up to its reputation, wringing every last shred of coherence out of you like a goddamn champion.

you whimpered, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as the toy finally stopped. for a brief, blissful second, you thought they were giving you a break.

but no, that hope was short-lived.

“geez, so sensitive,” fem-gojo cooed, tugging the vibrator out of you with an audible pop!, ignoring your weak whines and the way your hips tried to jerk away from her.

“don’t tell me you’re done already,” gojo added from his spot beside you, that familiar shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

you didn’t even have the energy to retort, your body trembling like a leaf. but what had you blinking back into reality was when fem-gojo — your filthy, depraved, down-bad excuse of a…girlfriend? partner? — brought the vibrator to her lips.

and licked it.

“oh my god,” you croaked, your voice hoarse as you stared in abject horror — and, god help you, a bit of arousal — as she practically drooled over the damn thing.

“what?” she said nonchalantly, swirling her tongue over the toy as if it were nothing. “gotta clean it, right?”

“clean it?” you echoed, your face flushing hotter by the second. “you’re — you’re disgusting!”

“am i?” she mused, licking a slow stripe along the edge before popping it out of her mouth with a smug grin. “taste just like mochi. sweet ‘n soft and sticky. good stuff.”

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands as your boyfriend outright cackled beside you.

“she’s got a point,” gojo chimed in, leaning over to smirk at you. “you do have that ‘irresistible dessert’ vibe. maybe we should start calling you ‘mochi.’”

“don’t you dare,” you snapped, your voice muffled against your hands.

“mochi it is,” fem-gojo declared with an exaggeratedly serious tone, popping another piece of actual mochi into her mouth as if to punctuate her statement.

you peeked through your fingers to glare at them both, but the effect was ruined by the way your body was still trembling, and the flush across your skin wasn’t helping either.

“geez,” fem-gojo muttered, her tone too casual for comfort as she gestured toward you with the vibrator. “she even jiggles like mochi. see?”

your jaw dropped, and the absolute audacity of her words was almost enough to jolt you upright — if your body wasn’t completely boneless from the onslaught.

“you’re both insane,” you muttered weakly, your voice lacking any real conviction.

“and yet, here you are,” gojo teased, ruffling your hair like you weren’t on the verge of combusting from sheer embarrassment.

you barely had time to process the chaos unfolding before you — your mind still reeling, your body trembling, and your dignity somewhere in the corner, curled up and crying. fem-gojo, that snarky, insufferable piece of shit, was clearly having the time of her life.

“oh, don’t look so done, mochi baby,” she crooned, her wolfish grin flashing as she grabbed your wrist. “i’ve got a brilliant idea. let’s multitask.”

“what the —” you started, but your words were cut off by the smug gleam in her eyes.

she brought your hand up, guiding it to where your boyfriend sat, already hard and clearly ready for round...what even was it? five? six? you lost track.

“i’m doing what now?” you squawked, but your protest was weak, your voice cracking as she maneuvered your trembling fingers to wrap around his throbbing dick.

“helping your man out,” she quipped, her tone all too chipper as if this was the most normal thing in the world. “don’t tell me you’re too tired to give him a hand, literally.”

“‘toru—” you started to snap, but she cut you off, her free hand sliding down to your already overstimulated cunt, drawing a shocked gasp out of you.

“don’t mind me,” she purred, her lips brushing against your ear as her fingers moved with deliberate precision. “i’ll keep you occupied while you help him out. teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

you shot a desperate look at your boyfriend, who was leaning back, looking far too amused by the situation.

“don’t look at me like that, babe,” he said with a smirk, his blue eyes practically twinkling. “you heard her. teamwork.”

“you’re both the worst,” you groaned, your hand trembling as you tried to follow fem-gojo’s guidance.

your efforts were valiant — or at least you thought so — but your trembling hands weren’t exactly cooperating. and judging by the way your boyfriend’s brows furrowed and his smirk turned into a frown, he wasn’t impressed.

“really, baby?” he muttered, his voice low and edged with irritation. “‘s is the best you can do?”

you opened your mouth to retort, but before you could get a word out, he grabbed your hand, his much larger one wrapping around yours.

“here,” he muttered, his tone dripping with exasperation as he moved both your hands together. “lemme show you how it’s done.”

“oh, wooww, would ya look at that,” fem-gojo chimed in, her grin downright evil as her fingers continued their sinful work on you. “teamwork really does make the dream work.”

your brain was short-circuiting, overwhelmed by the dual sensations of your boyfriend guiding your hand and fem-gojo absolutely finger fucking the living soul out of you. the three of you moving together in this absurdly depraved display of coordination was — god, you didn’t even know anymore.

“you’re — insane,” you managed to gasp out, your voice breaking as you felt your body quiver under fem-gojo’s relentless ministrations.

“baby please, you love it,” she shot back, her voice smug as she nipped at your thigh.

your boyfriend groaned, his hand tightening around yours as he picked up the pace. “focus, babe,” he muttered, his tone commanding.

as if you had any focus left to give.

“therrre we go,” fem-gojo hummed, her voice dripping with amusement as she watched the scene unfold. “’s more like it. look at us, a well-oiled machine.”

you wanted to retort, to say something snarky in return, but all that came out was a broken moan as your boyfriend cums on your hand, his low moan filling the room as the two of you worked together to finish him off.

“teamwork,” fem-gojo teased again, her grin widening as she finally let up on you.

“you’re both awful,” you muttered weakly, collapsing onto the bed.

“and yet, here you are,” your boyfriend quipped, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“mochi baby,” fem-gojo added, and you groaned, throwing a pillow at her face.

⋆˙⟡ —

"wow, six times already, huh?" fem-gojo’s voice broke through the haze of post-orgasm bliss you were floating in, her tone laced with mockery as she leaned against the headboard, arms crossed over her chest. her blue eyes glinted, flicking between you and your boyfriend with the kind of irritation that only her oversized ego could muster.

"must be nice," she drawled, running a hand through her wolfcut in exaggerated frustration. "lover boy here gets to finish, you’re over there makin’ sounds like a damn opera singer, and me? nothing."

"don’t start," you groaned, flopping back onto the bed like a rag doll. your limbs felt like jelly, your body spent, and you were dangerously close to tapping out for the rest of the day.

“oh, don’t start?” she shot back, her eyebrow twitching. “you’re really gonna sit there, lookin’ all fucked out, and say that to me? after all my hard work, this is the thanks i get?”

your boyfriend chuckled, clearly enjoying her theatrics as he tucked himself back into his boxers. "yeah, babe, ’s kinda rude. i mean, she’s got a point."

"oh, shut up!" you snapped, glaring at him. "this is all your fault, you —"

but before you could finish, fem-gojo had already swung a leg over your waist, straddling you with the kind of confidence that only she could pull off.

"what — wait, hold on —" you stammered, wide-eyed as she leaned down, her face far too close to yours.

“nah, sweetheart," she interrupted, smirking as her fingers trailed down your tits. "you don’t get to say ‘hold on.’ not when you’ve been holdin’ out on me."

“what the hell does that even mean?” you hissed, your face heating up as her hands roamed.

“it means,” she purred, leaning closer until her lips brushed against your ear, “i’m gonna sit on your face now.”

“excuse me?!”

your boyfriend burst out laughing, his whole body shaking as he clutched his stomach. "oh my god, this is amazing. please, don’t stop. this is the best thing i’ve seen all day."

“you’re not helping!” you yelled at him, though your voice was quivering as fem-gojo settled herself further down on top of you.

"what’s the matter?" she teased, her grin widening as she reached to tilt your chin up. “don’t tell me you can’t take it. because after everythin’ i’ve seen today, i know for a fact that my pretty girl right here’s a champ.”

“satoru —”

“yeah?” they both replied in unison, and you wanted to scream.

“this is ridiculous," you muttered, though your resolve was already crumbling under her piercing gaze and the way her hands played over your skin.

“ridiculously sexy,” fem-gojo corrected, her smirk turning wicked.

and before you could argue, she shifted her weight, her thighs caging your head, and all you could think was, yea, this is how i die.

your boyfriend leaned back against the pillows, grinning like an idiot as he watched the scene unfold. “yeah, six times is definitely the charm. but hey, babe, looks like you’ve got a seventh in ya after all.”

it was like watching synchronized chaos — if that was even a thing. as if a switch flipped simultaneously in their shared, cursed braincell, both gojos moved in perfect unison, practically tearing at fem-gojo’s top like it offended their very existence. “c’mon, comrade,” your boyfriend cheered, his stupid grin widening as he yanked her shirt up and over her head. “it’s for the greater good.”

“greater good my ass, you’re just horny,” fem-gojo shot back, though she didn’t stop him. in fact, she raised her arms to make it easier, her ridiculously large tits out in the open in all its glory.

“damn right i am,” he quipped, and in the blink of an eye, he was stripped down to nothing but his insufferable confidence.

meanwhile, you were desperately trying to focus on your task. a monumental task. a task fit for a girlboss, because you were a determined woman.

and that task? eating out your insanely hot girlfriend slash partner.

you flattened your tongue against her cunt, trying to ignore the heat flooding your face as her thighs quivered around your head. her hips bucked slightly, and she let out a strangled moan that quickly turned into a string of curses.

“fuck — shit — holy hell, that’s — oh, goddamn it!” fem-gojo gasped, one hand fisting the sheets while the other tangled in your hair. “what the fuck, how — how are you even doing that — fuck — oh my god!”

her cussing was relentless, sharp, and varied enough to make a sailor blush. “shit — fuck me sideways — you’re gonna kill me, holy tits!”

“holy tits?” your boyfriend snorted.

“shut the fuck up, sator — aah! ” fem-gojo snapped, though her voice cracked as another moan escaped her lips.

but you couldn’t even laugh, because you were the one fighting for your life. with gojo gripping your hips like a lifeline, and his cock buried so deep inside you that your vision blurred, outright bruising your insides, it was nearly impossible to concentrate.

"fuck, babe," gojo groaned, his voice low and breathless in your ear. "you’re squeezin’ me so tight — feels so fuckin' good."

and as much as you hated to admit it, tears were streaming down your face, soaking fem-gojo’s thighs as your tongue continued its shaky assault.

“shit — babe, you cryin’?” gojo asked, though his smirk was audible even through the haze of his pleasure. “s that good?”

you wanted to slap him, but all you could do was moan as another thrust hit that sweet spot inside you, making your whole body shudder.

“don’t stop,” fem-gojo whimpered above you, her thighs trembling around your head. “holy fuck, don’t stop — don’t fucking stop — oh m’god, ‘m gonna — fuck!”

and before you could even process her loud, breathy cry, your own orgasm hit like a tidal wave, your walls clenching hard around gojo’s length as you squirted against him.

“oh, fucckkk yeah,” he groaned, his pace stuttering as he chased his own release.

you barely registered anything else, your body shaking with the aftershocks as fem-gojo slumped against the pillows, completely blissed out.

"looks like i win this round," gojo panted, his voice smug as he finally pulled out and collapsed next to you.

"win? win?" you croaked, your voice hoarse and shaky. "satoru, i am literally dying."

and fem-gojo, still catching her breath, managed a weak chuckle. “honestly, me too.”

your boyfriend, the absolute menace, is standing there like he’s giving the keynote address at some unhinged sex expo. with a dramatic sweep of his arm, he gestures to the array of sex toys — sorry, “tools of pleasure” — that he had haphazardly, or as he put it, “meticulously,” arranged while you weren’t looking.

“ladies,” he begins, the same devilish grin on his face that could charm or terrify depending on his mood. “i present to you the greatest hits of our collection: the deluxe rotating dildo 3000 — absolute game changer, might i add — this double-ended masterpiece that got us through valentine’s day last year, and this little number,” he wiggles the suction vibrator like it’s a winning lottery ticket, “for when you need to set a new personal record.”

“oh my god, satoru, shut the fuck up,” you hiss, face burning as you try to hide your mortification behind a pillow.

but fem gojo? oh, she’s eating this shit upp. literally. her blue eyes light up with the kind of crazed glee you’d associate with a sugar-high kid who just got the biggest lollipop at a carnival. it’s neuron activation at its finest, and suddenly you feel a chill crawl up your spine.

“i like this one,” she says, grabbing the double-ended toy with a smirk, spinning it in her hands like she’s about to challenge you to a duel.

“a woman of culture,” your boyfriend says approvingly, holding up a fist for her to bump.

she does, and it’s the single most terrifying moment of your life.

“guys, can we not —” you try to protest, but it’s too late.

“you know what,” fem gojo hums, her voice sultry as she tosses the toy aside, leaning in with a dangerous glint in her eyes. “i was gonna let you off easy after earlier, but…” her gaze flicks to your boyfriend, and the two exchange a look that screams trouble.

“but now,” she continues, her smirk widening, “i’m all charged up. and since my dear clone here is such a team player,”

“we gotta keep the momentum going,” gojo finishes, cracking his knuckles like he’s about to play a round of volleyball.

“no, you really don’t,” you argue, trying to scramble away, but fem gojo’s already got her strong arms around your waist, pulling you back into the fray.

“oh, sweetheart,” she purrs, her lips brushing against your ear, “we’re not stopping until we turn you into a puddle.”

and with that, your fate is sealed.

again.

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ banners by cafekitsune

[historiaxvanserra]

All That is Dark Within Me | Chapter One

Pairing: Azriel x Hewn!city reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: In the wake of rising tensions between the two warring factions of the Night Court, Keir and the High Lord come to terms through a marriage alliance between two high ranking members of their respective courts.

Tags: Forced proximity, political marriage, Night Court lore, abuse (not from Az or IC), discussions of sex work (reader somewhat ignorant to begin with), criticism and discussions of misogyny, sexism, and general abuse in all its forms., eventual smut, corruption kink, d/s dynamics etc.

Hello! I am back trying to write. This isn't my best work but its a good starting point! Please let me know what you think. This chapter and readers powers are heavily inspired by Poppy from From Blood and Ash.

I was born on a night like this, I think. 

Storm-streaked my father had once called me. 

If only he could see me now; standing at the foothills of the mountain, wind-beaten and with the acrid taste of seafret on my chapped lips. When I was a girl my father told me that I came into the world the way the Old Gods had. Born from the merciless green depths of the sea. 

To be cruel and beautiful, and fearless.

Now fear is all I know.

The streets of the great mountain city are plagued by a summer storm and, at the fatal peal of thunder I cast my eyes skyward. A terrible dread coils in the pit of my stomach. The visions come with the storm; fleeting images of an unforgiving tempest as it ravages all in its wake. Of scorched earth and a fire that burns torrid and angry until ash reigns over the world. The dark figure of a man, who whispers my name like a prayer. 

The God of plagues and prophecy. He comes to me in those moments when my body is untethered from this plane. Lost somewhere, in the depths of the ether,  shrouded in his shadows and a seraphic blue light.

Heat swells beneath the skin’s surface and the murky grey-blue depths of the Sidra turn violent. Pearlescent seafoam coils and contorts violently and for a moment I think of an old story my Grandsire had told me once. Of Scylla, a human Princess from the continent. She had been monstrous. All gnarled talons and twisting tendrils as she rose from her watery tomb to lay waste to the men who had hurt her. Thrashing and writhing as the waves crest over the port. 

The crack of forked white lightning against the darkening horizon breaks my reverie and Scylla wails a harrowing cry nestling into my side with a bruising force. I smooth a hand flat on her muzzle. Her lustrous dark mane feels soft under my tender touch and Scylla exhales a hot breath that rises like steam in the wet heat of the Summer storm. 

“Calm, Scylla.” I whisper tenderly to the mare I had taken to mount. My forehead rests against Scylla and for a moment I feel our hearts beat in tandem. My lips graze the hair above the horse’s brow and I welcome the earthy fetor as it fills my senses. 

“Calm.” I reaffirm, patting the mount affectionately. 

“Take her to the stable and see to it that she is fed.” My voice wavers with another rumble of thunder. When I was a girl my Grandsire had told me to count the moments between the cacophony of thunder and the flash of white lightning to work out how many leagues away it might be. At this moment I know that I am standing in the eye of the storm. 

I watch as Scylla’s silhouette disappears into the darkness of the lower city.

“My Lady, we must hurry, the storm will be upon us soon.” Leith interjects as a jarring flash of white illuminates the sky. 

“It already is, Ser.” I observe, looking to the sky once more as I step into the small carriage sent to retrieve me from my visit to the modiste in the heart of Hewn City. Leith agrees as the heavens open and I hear his chuckle and the wrap of his knuckles against the body of the carriage. 

Leith is the son of a minor Lord of Night, and he and I are bound together by solemn oaths. Oaths he had made to my father, all those years ago, to protect me and the power that I possess. I might have married him if not for the vows he made. Or my own vows of obedience to my Protector. 

Cloistered in the stifling darkness, I observe the city in flashes of cruel light and sound that permeate the suffocating seclusion of the wheelhouse, as it moves through the cobbled streets. I remove the lavender veil that typically obscures my features and fold it into the pocket of the plain, gray cloak I had stolen from one of the wraiths.

The narrow streets of Hewn City are rife with transgression as night descends over the court.

I hear the echo of it in the lurid shouts of merchants, and the vulgar songs of sailors coming home from the docks at the mouth of the Sidra. I listen to them all; as they beg, barter and brawl in the filthy streets. The fetor of decay lingers in the air like festering fruit flesh in the feverish heat of the carriage and throngs of beggar children chase the wheelhouse as it rolls through the putrid pools of waste upon the wet, cobbled stone. Though, I only catch fleeting glimpses of them each time the cruel, seraphic light cuts through the blanket of the dark. 

As we pass through the Streets of Silk, I hear the bawdy rhymes of the painted whores as they call out into the night like a siren song; all sultry-eyed and dressed in lace that billows in the wretched breeze like the tendrils of a monstrous chimera. Fated to lure wayward sailors to their watery tombs.  

“Stop the carriage!” I command and the wheelhouse comes to a slow stop. 

It is then that panels of the carriage yawn open to reveal a tavern. I step out into the dark, the skirts of my stolen garment sodden with the dark water that collects on the paved roads. 

“Is everything alright, My Lady?” Leith asks, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger as he scans the desolate streets for signs of danger. 

“What is this place?”

Leith swallows thickly and averts his eyes when he speaks to me, “It is-- it is a pleasure hall, My Lady.” 

I consider it for a moment and something like excitement pricks along the base of my spine. 

“Do you think we could go in” I bat my lashes prettily at him and I know by the tension in his broad shoulders that he will say yes. 

“No -- absolutely not.”He retorts and I curl a fist around the dark cape that drapes over his frame, “The Lord Protector wanted you back hours ago.” 

‘Please,” The furrow of my brown deepens and Leiths hand covers my own gently, “One hour, that’s all I ask.” 

Leith broods for a few aching moments, only the sound of the rain as it pours from the heavens like a raging tempest until finally he relents. 

“One hour -- ONE!” He demands, gesturing the number one with his pointer finger which he turns on me. 

“Or I will come looking for you.

The building stands as one of the last unsanctioned pleasure halls in the city; its weary slate facade is cut from the same dark stone as the mountain that oppresses the city and the neglected roof tiles gleam in the pallid silver faelights like moonlight on the murky-green depths of the Sidra. 

This place is a den of iniquity, and the pulsing heart of Hewn City.

Above the door, I observe the pillory that bears the establishment's name. The Jade Pearl, painted in varying gaudy shades of green and gold.

“I mean it!” Leith calls again in warning and I nod in return, “and stay out of trouble.”

As I cross the threshold of the tavern the smell of honeyed ale and pomegranates wafts through the stilted air. A heady aroma of festering fruit and wine, undercut with the ferrous scent of arousal. 

The pleasure hall on the outer banks of the mountain city is alive with sordid activity. The whores in their fine silks twirl and dance in merry rings like water nymphs, and the serving girls fill up the cups of patrons with a sly smile. The high-arching melody of lyres cuts through the cacophony of carnal sounds; officious laughter, vulgar curses and the honeyed words, whispered into the skin of wind-beaten sailors and fat merchants. 

I traverse the narrow corridors that run like veins into the heart of the tavern. It's dark antechamber is bathed in shadow and dying fireglow that casts the word in a pallid light. The emerald bar curves around the hall in the shape of a crescent moon and the tables dapple the room like stars. 

“Come Mistress, let me help you.” A beautiful wraith insists, tugging and the long sleeves of my stolen robes until I am left in the thin lavender shift I had worn this morning. She’s a slender looking creature, with pale blue eyes that look almost silver in the dying light of the hearth. Her long, white hair is braided over her shoulder like the tendril of some mythical siren. 

Dangerous and inviting. 

“A drink and a warm meal perhaps,” She purrs, her voice low and sultry as she looks at me with those pale eyes. She’s dressed in the gauzy, silk robes of a whore. The garment flows like water over the curve of her hip and with a deep slit in its middle that exposes the graceful swell of her breasts beneath. And through her guise of beauty and seduction, I see the chains that bind her.

As I am bound. To this court. To the mountain that we call home. 

“A drink would be nice,” I acquiesce, sliding a gold coin across the polished surface of the bar.

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“It is no trouble at all, mistress- but this far too much coin.” The wraith begins to untether the cracked leather coin purse from her hip. She begins to exchange the gold for smaller coins of silver and bronze, counting them in her open palm. 

“Keep it -- I’ve no use for it anyway.” I command, nodding towards the coin in her hand. The wraith shakes her head and tries to protest but a call from the brutish looking owner draws the girl's attention away. 

She voices her gratitude again before leaving me to my pitcher of ale. I look up from my spot, across the painted emerald surface of the bar, to the games table. 

A voice, thick with mirth and malice, beckons my attention. 

“There are rumors amongst the legion that the High Lord will return to Court by the moon's turn.”

Three men are seated around an emerald game table. Crimson cards and dice litter the surface of the table and in its center a collection of coins. The male at the head of the table is dressed in his court robes; a dark overcoat with silver embroidery along the collars and cuffs. The others are dressed in black tunics and pants. It is only through the tendrils of dark that shroud them in shadow that I know who they are. 

These men are members of The Night Court’s legion of Darkbringers; and servants of the High Lord’s Steward. 

The larger of the three, unsheathes his dagger and places it atop the pile of coins in lieu of money. 

A reminder of their lethal potential. 

A vein of dark power that speaks to a coming vision plagues me in those spaces between the seconds. Untethered and adrift in the ether I allow my fragile mind to wander. I see a lake from which the dead rise like a devastating tempest. I see a King atop a dias, and a throne of splintered bone. And, through the blanket of the dark, I see the gleam of Illyrian Steel and age worn bone. 

And then, that tenuous connection to the Otherworld is severed. 

“The commander says that tensions in the lower city are rising.” The deep timbre of the Darkbringer rouses me from thought again.

“I heard that Keir plans to broker an alliance with the Death Lord, if only to free himself of Rhysand’s leash.” 

“--bring him and that bitch of his to heel.” The youngest of the three smiles malevolently.

“Enough of that -- We’re in the presence of a Lady.” The leader implies dangerously. 

Three heads incline in my direction at once. 

The cold, amethyst hilt of a dagger kisses the tender flesh of my thigh beneath the many lawyers of dark fabric that shroud me and I am reminded of my own lethal potential. The dagger had been passed from my grandsire some years ago. Made and forged from the ancient power that dwells beneath the mountain that we call home. The dagger itself had been set in a hilt of dark wood, trimmed with silver and precious gems; amethyst, sapphire and onyx. Its blade was fashioned of Illyrian steel and honed to a fatal sharpness.

There are no Ladies allowed in this part of the city.

Anxiety roils in the pit of my stomach. As he approaches, I pull the hood of the austere, grey cloak to veil my face in shadows. The pale eyes of the Darkbringer meet mine through the din and his smile curls around the sharpness of his teeth. 

A predator snarling as its prey. 

“What a pretty little bird, she is.” He taunts as he approaches, his manner imposing and vindictive as he takes my chin between his fingers. 

“I am no Lady, Ser.” I swallow thickly. It is true, of course. I am no Lady of the Night Court. 

My family hailed from The Dusk Court. Before its fall, my father had fled our home and sought refuge in Night, on account of it being his own mother’s native court. The Old High Lord had given us a home here, though I was only a babe then. When he died I had been taken to ward by the High Lord’s Steward. 

My own father died not long after. A fever took him, or so I am told. 

“Then perhaps you might regale my friends and I with the tale of how a pretty thing like you ends up here.” The Darkbringer replies, sliding a coin across the table. His gaze drops to the rings that adorn my hands; fine rings of onyx and amethyst, mined from the wretched bowels of the mountain that I have come to call home. The mark of my good breeding. 

“I assure you Ser, I am no whore either.” I know then that if I am discovered I will suffer for it. The kind of suffering that only exists in the rotting depths of Hewn City’s prisons. 

“No, I see that now.” Devilment darkens his pale gaze and the cut of amethyst shines in his dark eyes, he releases me from his bruising grip with a dark laugh. 

“Curious little thing.” One of the men whispers. 

“This is a terrible place for a gentle creature like you, Lady” He whispers, his pointed finger ghosts the cut of onyx on my hand,  “luckily for you I am feeling merciful.” 

“I am not as gentle as I look, Ser.” The three Darkbringers laugh before waving me off with a final scrutinizing look. 

“Now fly back to your cage, little bird.” 

Traversing the narrow aisle of the tavern I find myself adrift amongst the dancing tide of patrons. A throng of women, clad in gauzy robes and underthings, twirl in merry rings like a flock of dancing water nymphs; their garments twisting and contorting like columns of technicolor seafoam.The cruel laughter from the dance floor pulls me deeper into the wretched heart of the pleasure house. Lurid whistles and a series of vulgar gestures rouse my attention. A female; dressed in spider silk and lace coils around a portly merchant at the games table. She slips into his lap with a serpentine grace. I watch as the merchant’s weathered hand traces the line of her throat to the swell of her breasts. Smacking his hand away, the woman laughs, it is a beautiful, false thing that glitters in the pallid light.

“Well, girl I hope you fuck better than you play cards.” The merchant complains, laying down his deck of crimson cards. The female curls a painted hand around the cuffs of his tunic and whispers into his ear and the merchant's mouth curves into a lurid smile. One thick hand draws down her stomach, the other brushes the flesh of her thigh, slipping under the folds of her robe between her legs to get to her --

Oh.

I avert my eyes at the scene as a blush kisses its way along my neck and chest at the intimacy of it. 

The merchant rises from his seat at the table, taking the female slender hand in his. The whispered words they exchange are too low for me to hear but her answering smile is enough to know it was something wicked. The female rises leads the merchant towards the sleeping chambers beyond the emerald curtains. 

I watch as the merchant's shadowy figure is swallowed by the darkness as the curtain is drawn. My attention lingers far after they are gone, leaving only the smell of salt and jasmine in their wake. 

I think about what it must be like. To be desired. To be touched with that kind of reverence. 

I am overcome with a strange, prophetic awareness.; dreams of shadowed light and a bleeding star, scarred hands that track the constellations as they reign over the black tapestry of the sky.

The high-arching symphony of strings and lyres blossoms in the feverish heat of the tavern. The soft melody of the lyres seems to echo off of the high, domed ceiling, as the heavy beat of a drum joins the cacophony of sound. It’s a hypnotizing, deeply sensual beat, that is unlike anything I have ever heard. Primal and carnal. 

I find myself adrift in the sway of the dancing sea. Slowly, I make my way along the length of the bar, reaching out to touch the gauzy jade curtains, parting them slowly --

“I don’t think you want to go in there, Mistress.” The lilting voice of the wraith warns. 

“Why not?” I ask curiously, lowering my hand from the curtain.

The wraith laughs prettily, her cerulean eyes glinting in the dying light of the fire. 

“Some don’t appreciate an audience, Sweet girl.” 

“An audience?” I ask. 

Through the darkness of the antechamber, I see the silhouettes of the whores and their patrons, writhing and undulating with the beat of the drum. Their bodies twisting and contorting like columns of seafoam. The beat of the drum is punctuated by panting breaths and lilting moans, and the vulgar sound of men as they find their pleasure. 

“Oh.”

The wraith laughs again, her painted lips curl into a wicked smile.

“Is it your first time here, Pyhtia?” The wraith leans in, the rich tenor of her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. Fear coils in my stomach and my grip on the emerald surface of the bar tightens. 

“What is it that you are accusing me of?” I try to emulate her melodious laughter and my eyes narrow in faux concern. 

“You needn't lie to me, Pythia. Your secrets are safe with me.” Her words resound in my head and realization dawns. She’s daemati. It has been so long since I have been in the presence of another that I forgot about maintaining my own mental shields. 

“That type of secret is not safe with anyone.”

“What could I gain from exposing it to anyone? I wish you no ill will.” She returns. 

“You’d earn the Lord Protector's favor, of that I am certain --.” 

The wraith's face twists into a grimace and her sapphire stare hardens to a cold, wicked thing. “I have no need for that viper’s favour.”

The venom laced in her voice speaks to the malice she holds for this place, its patrons and the cruel light of Hewn City. Many within the court resent the way in which we live, clinging to the slivers of power we are allowed, cowering in the darkness of the mountain. 

Things are changing as of late, war looms ever closer and whispers of dissent from the continent bring about unrest in the people. Many turn to the High Lord and his Lady for liberation from the dying vestiges and brutal traditions of this court. For many years I myself have lived in servitude and isolation, serving Keir, The Lord Protector and Steward of the ancient mountain city. 

As his coveted oracle; a conduit for his own power.

A cruel wind cuts through the heat of the pleasure hall as the doors open to announce an influx of new patrons. Three men, dressed in court robes enter through the archway, each shaded in shadows and dark wisps of power. My heart hammers thunderously in my chest as the men enter the heart of the establishment. 

“A flagon of wine and some dice, Arik.” The Darkbringer announces to the man behind the bar. My face pales from where I stand. These men are my personal guard; and though kind, they are truly formidable and unwaveringly loyal to my keeper. 

It was Ares who stole back my dagger from the archives when it was taken from me. It was Eros who brought me black dahlia flowers on my birthday last year. And it was Valyrion who told me the histories of the court my father had once been heir to. 

These men, these good men, are sworn to a monster, and they must do monstrous things to survive here. 

As we all must. 

I veil my face with the hood of my stolen cloak, tucking my hair into the collar so that it is concealed from view, and my face obscured almost entirely. I glance back towards the entrance. 

Leith will be waiting for me outside and my hour is almost up. 

If he comes looking for me and the guard see him…

I take another tentative look across the room and observe the men crowded around the game table with women hanging off them, like a swarm of beautiful and merciless harpies. 

“That one’s usual girl looks like you --” The wraith whispers to me, casting her own gaze to Ares who stands alone near the fire. 

“She’s busy with her favorite client upstairs. Perhaps you might retrieve her and make your escape.” Slowly, I turn to the wraith who takes my hand gently and leads me along the length of the bar and to the foot of the stairs. 

“You will find Aelle on the second floor -- take sanctuary there. I’ll come for you when your friends are occupied.” 

I hold her hand fondly and press a gold coin into her palm. 

“Thank you.” She presses a chaste kiss to my cheek and ushers me up the stairs. As I descend the steps of the pleasure hall, I slip a hand between the folds of my cloak, fingers ghosting the hilt of the dagger strapped to my thigh. 

The upper levels of the house are painted a deep emerald color and the flickering fae lights saturate the long, narrow corridors in onyx wisps of shadow. The room at the end of the corridor is stepped in near darkness, veins of indigo and navy that obscure everything in blue-darkness. The mantle is hung with half-burned candles and a garland of foxglove and jasmine. The furniture looks as though it has been carved from the black wood of ash trees and the armchairs in front of the dying hearth are embroidered with dark floral motifs and silver threads. 

I draw in a sharp breath and the scent of pine and night-blooming jasmine shrouds me in its icy kiss. 

A flash of seraphic light illuminates the room and a deep voice, shaded in nightshade calls out from the blue-darkness.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

[gravegoer]

Hiii! English is not my first language so please forgive any mistakes. Could you do an imagine of Sevika where the reader and her have been together for a long time, and the reader almost dies in battle? (Like, she got shot in a place that bleeds a lot, which makes Sevika super worried) And she makes a little confession to the reader? Saying that she can't lose her and stuff like that. Sorry for the long request, it's my first time ordering 😭😭 Thanks anyway 🩷🤍🩷

Wont lose you ʚɞ

thank you for the request,! it was a bit rushed but I like it anyways let me know if you do :)

masterlist!!

Silco sent you on an important mission, taking down this factory all relied on you. Sevika had insisted on being by your side the entire time, but her request was denied.

Her and two other goons sat on the sidelines to make sure you could get in and out without being seen. No fight. No problem.

Why did she have to get stuck with these guys? She would have been better off down there helping you.

She sat outside the doube doors, one of the men lit a cigarillo for her. All was going according to plan so far.

You had gotten in and deactivated some machines. Now you needed to get out.

Sevika, your long time girlfriend was worried. Despite not wanting to admit it you could tell by the look on her face before you crossed the threshold to the factory.

You chuckled to yourself, thinking of how she patted your back on the way in as encouragement.

But you were confident you could carry this out without a hitch.

What you didn't know is there weren't just guards on the outside.

Your footsteps echoed throughout the seemingly empty factory. All you had to do was pour gasoline around the inside perimeter and on the machines and strike a match. It's not that hard.

You were bent over a machine, checking out the parts and gears before you feel a sharp pain of a blunt object on your back. Turning around you instinctively grab it.

A tall, lanky woman stood towering over you. Before she could pull it from your grasp, you kicked her in the stomach. She stumbled backward with a grut. When you dropped the bat, you were met with another thwack to your head.

You let out a muffled cry, biting your lip. You heard the woosh of an object and half-ducked-half-fell. An ambush. How mature. Another metal bat slammed into the ground beside your head. A broad figure stood over you, moving to hit you again. You rolled to the left but not without getting a swift kick to the stomach.

"Urgh." The wind was knocked out of your lungs. But you had no time to hesitate, jumping to your feet and blocking the next strike of the bat with your forearm.

You grabbed it and pulled it forward, bringing the weilder with it. Letting go with one hand, you slam your fist into their throat. The woman from before came back around, picking up her bat again. You met her metal bat with the one in your hands.

It's okay. You could win. The mission was still going according to plan. Two people with bats you could easily take on. You heard a familiar cocking behind your head.

"Drop it"

Fuck.

You didn't.

Instead, you turned to deliver a high kick to their head. But they managed to pull the trigger faster than you could land it.

Bang

You let out a shrill cry and clutched your side. Blood seeped through your fingers and stained your shirt.

"I told you to drop it," Their deep voice hissed.

You could hear three people rushing into the factory, footsteps echoing throughout the establishment. The person that shot you turned their attention to your team. The trigger happy idiot immediately started firing.

Bullets ricochet against the metal. Sometime amidst the chaos, you started to lose consciousness. Black spots littered your vision, and you finally dropped to your knees. A figure bent over you, yelling incoherent things. She jad a hand on your back, gripping your shirt between clammy fingers.

Looking up, you saw Sevikas distressed expression. Sweat dripped down her forehead, and there was a worried crease between her brows. She was shouting things you couldn't quite make out. Maybe something like "We need to leave" or "We are lighting it up." Maybe both.

She grabbed your legs, hand still on your back and hoisted you into her arms. You could feel her warm arm on your upper back and the hardness of her prosthetic against the back of your legs.

In your groggy state you looked up to Sevika, her teeth gritted as she ran throughout the factory with heavy steps. You could hear an explosion come from far behind you.

A ringing in your ears.

She looked down at you.

Then you passed out.

What seemed to be a few hours later, you groggly awoke. Light seeped into your vision and you attempted to get up. "Fuck," A sharp pain shot through your side.

Oh, right. You got shot.

You looked down to where you now held your side, but instead of blood like how you expected, there are sterile bandages. They wrapped around your now mostly bare torso.

Looking around the room, it seemed familiar to you. Right before you could put your finger on it your girlfriend came walking into the room, holding a glass of water.

Her eyes shot wide open, and she started walking a little faster towards your bedside. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

You laughed at her suprise, "Yeah. Now that you're here"

Your voice was raspy and dry. You reached out for the water in her hand. She instead pushed your hand down and brought the cup up to your lips herself.

"I thought I'd lost you," She sighs in releif.

You took big gulps of water. She had just finished smoking. You could smell it on her hands. You pulled your lips away from the cup and she brought a thumb to your mouth to wipe away stray water droplets.

It was your turn to ask, "Are you okay?"

She let out a dry laugh, "You're the one sitting in bandages in my bed, and you're asking if Im okay?"

She brings her larger hand to your arm, rubbing circles into your skin. Her rough calloused hands brought some comfort to you.

"Im sorry I let that happen. I shouldn't have let you go in there alone. Silco was wrong," She grumbled, clutching her temples.

"Hey, I can do things by myself. It was an unfair attack." You chimed in.

"I don't care. I dont know what i would do if i lost you in there," She spoke firmly.

Her lips were pursed into a straight line. Trying to calm that tension you reached up to grab her face, bringing her lips to yours.

Her lips chased yours when you pulled away. Hissing as you grabbed your side again. "Shit, do i need to change your bandages?" She got up, already heading for the cabinets.

You were usually the one to dress her wounds, not the other way around. "Aww, you bandaged me up?" You cooed.

"Shut up"

[ella-and-the-ocean]

I felt compelled to write a small interpretation of what happened to our favorite OCs. I hope you'll enjoy.

🖋 1214 words

⚠️ blood and injury, violence, murder, brief violence against children

starts under the cut

“Vincent, watch out!”

But Vincent was still occupied taking down two men who were attacking him with all they got, their heavy armor making it harder to land a final blow. He didn't notice the third man approaching him with a knife.

Quinn was still on his sniper post, but had run out of bullets.

“Vince! Do you copy?”

But Vincent gave no indication that he had heard him or noticed the approaching foe.

Quinn swore as he abandoned his rifle and made his way to Vincent in a mad dash to get to him before the third man could knife him down. He had no plan of action, no strategy for self defense, he just needed to get there first. 

And he did. He threw his body between Vincent and the blade, but he had no time to block the blow. Instead he felt the knife slice through his skin and fat and organ tissue. He drew his own blade and buried it deep in his opponent's jugular. They went down together. 

Quinn's vision was swimming. When everything came back into focus, Vincent's face was hovering above him, worried and angry in equal measure.

“You goddamn idiot. I had it under control.”

His hands were pressed to Quinn's abdomen, it hurt like a bitch.

Quinn closed his eyes and let his head fall back with a groan.

“Don't you dare die on me. Medevac is on its way.”

“Not dying,” Quinn mumbled, “no visions.”

"Good. Keep it that way.” He still sounded angry.

“Yessir.” 

“Look at me.” Now he sounded more desperate than angry, so Quinn opened his eyes. They were bloody heavy. Black dots danced in front of his vision as he tried to focus on Vincent's face.

“What were you thinking?”

His eyes looked wet. Like the blood that was oozing out between the fingers he pressed to the ugly gash in his abdomen. Quinn had always wondered how he dealt with the bloodshed in the field. If it had gotten easier to resist over all those years. He had never asked.

“Couldn't– let your pretty mug get ruined.” he slurred, tongue as heavy as his eyes.

Vincent's next words got drowned out by a familiar rush of blood roaring up in his ears accompanied by a wave of nausea.

Seemed like his earlier health assessment might not have been as stellar as he had thought.

The world in front of his eyes started to flimmer like a broken display, black dots growing until they left him numb and blind in the darkness.

He tried to brace himself, but there was no bracing for what his visions showed him.

He saw women getting shot down in what looked like a school. Blood splashing over colorful children's paintings and textbooks. Girls were screaming and crying while they got dragged out by their hair and thrown into the dirt, forced to watch as their remaining teachers were executed before black hoods were pulled over their heads and they were abducted into an uncertain future.

When he came to, all the pain and nausea was still there. He couldn’t see properly, didn’t know where he was, but instinctively, he tried to roll over in an attempt not to choke on his own vomit, but someone was holding him back.

“Shh, I got you, it’s okay.” A familiar voice said, cool hands gently pressing down on his chest to keep him down. Hearing that voice soothed some of the mental agony, but didn’t alleviate the urge to empty his stomach. Quinn gagged helplessly; gastric acid burning in his throat, filling his mouth. The voice above him sweared.

“Hands off, I’ll put him in recovery position,” an unfamiliar voice commanded. The cool hands disappeared and rough hands were manhandling him onto his side.

“What about his wound?”

“He’ll live.” 

“You say that five minutes after we had to resuscitate him?!” Quinn finally recognized the voice; had heard that angry, disbelieving shade of it more often than he could count, every time he’d “done something stupid”. 

“Vince,” he garbled around another gush of acid leaving his agitated stomach.

“I’m here.” The cool hands were back, brushing some strands of hair from his sweaty forehead, then settled against his overheated skin.

“We’ll give him another minute, then we have to move. The fibrin glue and compression bandage will do until we’re on base,” said the unfamiliar voice, and a foreign pair of hands briefly tinkered with the part of his torso that felt numb and afire alike.

Somewhere between being hauled into the helo and flying back to base, Quinn lost consciousness again. 

When he woke up for good, he was lying in a hospital bed. The incessant beeping of a nearby heart monitor worsened the migraine that made his head swim, but at least the aggressive neon lights were dimmed down. 

Quinn forced his eyes to focus and took stock of himself. Unsurprisingly, the nearby heart monitor was hooked up to himself, and he had two infusions, one seemed to be blood – again, unsurprisingly – the other probably a cocktail of antibiotics and painkillers. The lack of pain in his abdomen was a strong indicator. 

Also unsurprising, was Vincent’s looming presence in a chair next to his bed, pulled up as close as possible. His expression was a potent mix of relief, anger and worry, his red eyes sparkling like livewires. 

“Would it help if I said I’m sorry?” Quinn asked.

“Are you?” Ah, so he was stuck with anger for the moment.

“Not really.”

“What you did was–” Vincent swelled in his seat, and Quinn prepared for a lengthy lecture that didn’t come, “so incredibly stupid.” 

“Well, you might be dead if I hadn’t done it.”

“You were dead!” Suddenly, Vincent was on his feet and hauled his chair across the room. “Three agonizing minutes long, your heart was not beating. I could hear your body shutting down, could hear your blood stopping to circulate, could smell it starting to coagulate, and each chest compression only made more blood spurt from your wound. I– You have no goddamn idea–” His chest was heaving as he looked Quinn dead in the eye. “Never. Never do that again.” He tried to take a steadying breath, but it caught halfway in his throat and came out sounding an awful lot like a sob, “Please.” 

Quinn looked away from the open vulnerability displayed on Vincent’s face. His blanket was suddenly much more interesting as he absently twirled the hem between his fingers.

“Why weren’t you responding to comms?” He asked to disperse the tense silence. 

Thankfully Vincent knew him better than to force a conversation about their feelings onto him. 

“One of the perps dislodged it when we were fighting.” Vincent went over to the chair and brought it back to the bed, it was still intact. He sank back into it, and silence filled the room again.

After a while, Vincent broke it.

“Do you want to talk about the vision?”

Quinn sighed and closed his eyes, trying not to relive the images.

“Not really.” He admitted, hoping Vincent would leave it at that.

Instead of pushing the issue, a cold hand wrapped around his restless one and squeezed it gently. Quinn took a shuddering breath, and squeezed it back. 

s h o c k 🔴

[thesecondhandwoman]

NIGHTMARES

Sevika x f!reader

Summary: You were experiencing heavy, traumatic nightmares again, reliving unwanted memories, and resulted in you waking up dazed. It was to the point where Sevika had to step in, even when you barely recognized her.

The nightmare hit with the intensity of a freight train, dragging you back to a place you’d fought hard to escape. The dim, oppressive walls of an unfamiliar room surrounded you, the scent of blood and sweat hanging heavy in the air. You could hear your attacker’s breath, feel the harsh, burning touch of their hands on your body, their low voice whispering cruel, taunting words into your ear.

Your chest tightened, and the sounds of your breath started to quicken in sync with the panic that surged through you. The room felt too small, suffocating.

You wanted to escape.

You tried to scream for help, but your voice wouldn’t come. The terror was suffocating, overwhelming, and you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t escape.

Suddenly, you shot up from the bed, gasping for air, drenched in sweat, your heart hammering in your chest. The room around you felt unfamiliar, wrong. Your breath was ragged, and the shadows of your nightmare seemed to creep into the corners of your vision, blurring everything in sight.

Sevika stirred beside you, instinctively sitting up when she felt the tension in the bed. Her sharp, calculating eyes immediately found yours, wide and panicked.

“Hey, hey,” Sevika’s low voice was soft but commanding, the tone not unfamiliar, but something about the urgency in her voice made your heart race faster. “It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe.”

But the darkness clung to you, the terror from the dream still sharp in your mind. You looked at her, but in your panicked state, everything blurred together. Her face — her eyes — were distorted, morphing into something you couldn’t recognize. Something darker. Someone from your past. Someone that haunted you in your nightmares.

“No!” You screamed, backing away from her, your legs tangling in the sheets. “Stay away! Get away from me!”

Sevika was quick to react, trying to grab hold of your arms to steady you, but the touch only made you more panicked, more frantic. “No! No, please!” You yelled, shoving at her chest, desperate to get away from her.

“Shhh. I’ve got you, you’re okay,” Sevika’s voice tried to soothe, but you were too far gone, lost in the fog of your nightmare’s aftermath. Your breathing came in shallow, frantic gasps as your body trembled with fear.

“Please,” you begged, tears streaming down your face as you shoved her away. “You’re not real. You’re not real!”

Sevika froze, her expression momentarily hardening at your rejection, but then she took a deep breath, collecting herself. Her instinct to protect you overrode the hurt in her chest. “I’m real,” she insisted firmly, gently but firmly taking your hands, locking her gaze onto yours. “You’re not in that nightmare anymore. You’re with me.”

You flinched, your heart still hammering, your mind screaming at you to run, to get away from whatever this was — but she wasn’t letting you go.

“Please, don’t,” you sobbed, curling in on yourself as the adrenaline from the nightmare surged through you, heightening every sense, distorting reality. “I can’t…I can’t be here. Not with you!”

The pain in Sevika’s eyes was almost too much to bear, but she didn’t pull away. She was steady, unyielding, even as you fought her, even as your hands trembled against her chest in fear.

“I’m not leaving you, not now, not ever,” Sevika said, her voice softer now, though the firmness remained. Slowly, she pulled you into her arms, wrapping you in a protective hold despite your resistance.

“Let me go!” You shouted, struggling against her grip, but it was futile. She was stronger, and though your body fought her, she held you with an almost unnatural calm.

“You have to listen to me, please,” Sevika whispered, her voice now a quiet murmur. She stroked your back in slow, rhythmic motions, letting her presence become the anchor for your racing thoughts. “This is just a nightmare. You’re safe. You’re here, with me. You’re real. I’m real.”

Her words broke through the haze of your fear, and you gasped again, trembling, your hands pressing against her chest as if to push her away, but your strength was fading. You sobbed harder, unable to control the flood of emotions that came crashing over you — fear, relief, shame — all of it mixing into an overwhelming whirlwind.

Sevika didn’t say anything more. She didn’t need to. She just held you. Her presence, her scent, the strength of her embrace — all of it was there to remind you that you weren’t lost in that nightmare anymore.

Slowly, your breathing began to even out, the panic starting to recede as you buried your face against her shoulder. The raw fear still lingered in your chest, but now, Sevika was here. She was warm, solid, unyielding.

When you finally calmed, when the world around you began to settle back into focus, you pulled back just enough to look up at her face. Her eyes were filled with nothing but concern, her jaw tight as she resisted the urge to pull you back in too tightly. She had to give you space, even if it hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from the screaming, the tears. “I didn’t mean to… to push you away.”

Sevika’s gaze softened, her hands gently cupping your face as she wiped away the tears. “I know,” she said, her voice low and steady. “I know, love. It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe now.”

You took a shaky breath, still in her embrace, but feeling the sting of the nightmare begin to fade. Slowly, your mind began to accept the truth: Sevika wasn’t your attacker. She was your protector. The person who would never hurt you, no matter how intense the shadows of your mind became.

“You’re my safe place,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you leaned into her again, your head resting against her chest.

Sevika let out a long breath, relief flooding through her as she held you even tighter, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “And I always will be,” she promised quietly.

And for the first time that night, you believed it.

[svearehnn]

sunlight in burgundy pt.2 | azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel recommends you another book and in return you read with him in the library.

a/n: I didn't mean for it to be this much of a slow burn but here we are lol. Hope you enjoy!

It wasn’t long before you finished the book that Azriel’s shadows had found for you. Another venture outside your room had not happened–rather, you stayed in, afraid to come across someone else, someone new. Madja had made you privy to the knowledge that only three fae lived in the House of Wind, yet, your first adventure within the large castle had proved futile to your desire to stay hidden.

You huffed, turning over in your bed as you pulled the covers up until darkness encased your vision. You didn’t want to leave, but you were bored. There was nothing to do except stare at the dark blue walls and shut the curtains tight when the House opened them. You needed to go get another book or you would go insane. 

With a sigh, you took slow maneuvers out of your bed, shuffling into your slippers that were far more exquisite than anything you had ever owned before. You pulled a cream-colored sweater on over your head and a pair of leggings that held tight to your legs before you opened the door a crack with taut lungs. Your eyes flitted this way and that, ears straining for any presence of another, but you came up empty. With that comforting knowledge, you stepped out of your safe place and hid in the shadows when you could as you made your way back to the library.

The mahogany doors greeted you with the same menacing smile, causing a knot to form in your throat. You gulp it down and, with shaking hands, push the doors open. A crackling fire greets you rather than the chilled breeze, filling the room with a fond comfort. You take in the familiar walls of books, the floor to ceiling windows, and the luxurious furniture that held the same shadowed figure as last time. His hazel eyes were on you, a soft smile gracing his features, casting him in a heavenly glow that you were afraid you imagined. 

“Hello,” he greeted, reining in his shadows as they began to float toward you with intrigue. You took a step towards him, eyes downcast yet nervously meeting his every couple of seconds.

“Hi.” You answered, fingers twiddling with rings behind your back as you tried to keep your nerves under wraps.

“Did you come back for another book?” You nodded, another step forward as though your feet were acting without your brain’s permission.

“I enjoyed the one you gave me.” You muttered, voice softer than the crack and pop of wood beneath orange flames. Azriel’s smile widened at that, his shadows seeming to dance around him.

“I’m glad to hear that. Would you like another recommendation?” You met his eyes again with another nod, breath held as you finally took notice of the male through the veil of fear that rattled your bones. He was rather lovely with his tanned skin and sparkling eyes, the freckles adorning his nose and cheeks giving him a charming glean. His features were sharp and defined, lips falling in a natural pout with a defined cupid’s bow. Azriel was gorgeous, far more so than the other fae males that you had met.

“You still there?” You blinked and pulled yourself out of your thoughts and back into the present conversation. His lips were still stretched in that gentle smile, his thumb once again marking a page in his book. Heat bloomed in your cheeks as you nodded.

“Sorry,” you murmured sheepishly, glancing down and then back at him, sensing a tad bit of amusement coming from those gleaming eyes of his.

“I asked if you had any preferences.” Azriel stated, his voice a lulling purr that calmed your racing heart. 

“Um…” After a moment of contemplation, you shook your head, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “Sorry, I don’t know. I liked the last one.”

He chuckled and slowly stood, stretching his wings with a shake. “You have nothing to apologize for. I think I have one in mind for you.” A shadow flew to his ear before roaming down the shelves, multiple others trailing after it. He took a tentative step toward you and you didn’t back away even though your mind was screaming at you to run. Something in your chest was blooming–it was warm and bright and it wanted you to stay. So you would listen, for now. At least, until flight overcame the newfound strength that had begun to fill you.

“How has your stay in Velaris been so far?” He asked, a hand snaking through his dark locks and mussing them up even further. You let out a slow breath, eyes locked on his mesmerizing ones.

“It’s been alright. I haven’t left my room much.” Azriel nodded and took another miniscule step, one that you barely noticed.

“You should come have breakfast with Nesta, Cassian, and I tomorrow. I can promise you that they are both great fae. Nesta’s a bit sharp around the edges, but once you break down her walls she’s a rather good friend.” A hum buzzed from your lips, mind lost in thought as you weighed the pros and cons. His shadows came back then with a leather bound book in hand, their wisps darkening the hallway of shelves for a split second before reaching their master’s side. He was close enough now that his shadows washed over you, cooling your clammy skin as a few began to traipse along it. 

“Sorry about them,” Azriel muttered as he scratched the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning a light shade of red. “They’re curious about you.” Shadows slithered up your legs and arms, the sensation similar to being submerged in water. You smiled softly as you admired them.

“It’s alright.” He took the book from his remaining shadows and handed it to you, his gloved fingers grazing yours for a split second before he dropped them down to his side. You ran your fingertips down the spine of the burgundy book, feeling the softness of the worn down leather as if the spine had been cracked a hundred times.

“Through the Wilderness,” Azriel blurted out, startling you for a moment. “The title. Through the Wilderness.”

“Oh.”

“It’s fiction about wolf pups surviving after their mother is shot and killed with an arrow. It’s quite good.” You nodded, lips pressed tight as you noticed a swirling in his eyes that resembled the darkness of his shadows. Pain of some sort, you could tell.

“Thank you.” His shadows floated back to him as he smiled, that look in his eyes gone with only two words. You clutched the book in your hands and held it to your chest, glancing to the doors behind you before focusing back on him, knowing your safety was beyond those doors. Yet, this male that you had met only once before was beginning to resemble those satin sheets and velvet curtains that you coveted so much.

“If you want to stay here and read, you are more than welcome to. I can step out so you’re comfortable.” It was as though he were talking to one of the frightened wolf pups in the book with his head bowed and his voice softened. Your eyes widened, taking in his words with a lick of anxiety.

“Oh, no, I don’t want to kick you out.” 

“I don’t mind–”

“What if we read together?” The words fell from your lips before you could stop them and you winced. You didn’t know where this was coming from. A week ago you were scared of this male, and now you were asking to read with him? You were starting to think you were losing your mind from locking yourself away in that room for so long.

“I would be happy to, as long as you’re okay with that.” You nodded hesitantly and swallowed the knot that had formed in your throat. Azriel smiled and took back over his assumed position on the couch. He opened his book without another word and began reading, his eyes roving over the words thoughtfully and swiftly. You observed him for a moment, noting his subtle movements like the way he flipped the pages with just his thumb, or the way he would gently blow that one lock of hair that kept slipping into his view. 

You closed your eyes and took a steadying breath before timidly advancing to the couch, taking a seat on the side farthest away from him. Azriel didn’t comment on it; he continued to read, his shadows looming over his shoulders as if they were studying the page too. A shaky sigh left your lips, and you pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and opening the book. There you immersed yourself in the book, surrounded by the fire crackling within the hearth, the winter sun hidden beneath light gray clouds, and the scent of mist and cedar.

[ponyosmom35]

once he finds you, you're fucked

simon ghost riley x reader

synopsis: reader is questions about ghost and his whereabouts

warnings: torture, blood, gore

Link to master list:https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

Her head throbbed as the cold, damp concrete floor pressed against her back. Her hands were tied tightly behind her, raw from the strain of the ropes. The room around her was dark, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb overhead. She had no idea where they'd taken her, but she could already feel the tension in the air, thick with the scent of oil and decay. Her throat was dry from screaming, but she had no intention of giving them the satisfaction of hearing her beg.

Her mind raced, the thought of Simon filling her thoughts like a storm. Every part of her being screamed for him to find her, to save her. She knew he would. There was no way he would leave her in this place.

Her captor, a gruff man with a scar running down his cheek, paced in front of her, a cruel grin playing on his lips. The others in the room stood back, watching her, waiting for her to crack. He held a folder of photos, his fingers flicking through them like a deck of cards. Then, he paused.

One of the photos was of Simon. Ghost.

The next was of the two of them, taken on a warm spring day. They were laughing, her hand resting on his arm as they stood in a park, the sun casting a glow on his face. She could almost feel the warmth of that day again.

Her jaw tightened. Don't let them see you break.

"You know him, don't you?" The man's voice was low, cruel. His smile widened when he saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes.

She remained silent, staring at him with defiance.

"You're his little girlfriend, aren't you?" he taunted, taking a step closer. "It's not surprising. You've got that same fire in you. Feisty, just like him."

Her lips curled into a sneer, but she didn't answer. She wasn’t about to make this easy for him.

The man's patience was wearing thin. He tossed the photos aside and grabbed her by the hair, jerking her head back. "Tell me what I want to know, sweetheart. Where is Ghost? Where is your little boyfriend?"

She spat at him, the blood in her mouth from previous blows splattering across his face. His expression darkened, and with a growl, he slapped her hard across the face, the sting of his hand leaving a trail of heat behind her ear.

"You're a tough one," he said, wiping the blood from his face. "But I'll break you. I'll make you talk."

Her heart pounded in her chest, but she didn’t flinch. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"You want to know where he is?" she hissed, her voice full of venom. "He'll be here soon. He'll find you. And when he does, you’ll be fucked."

The man’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she saw a flash of doubt in them. But then the rage returned. He picked up a knife, the steel gleaming in the dim light, and without a word, he plunged it into her stomach, twisting it deep.

Her scream echoed in the room, the pain consuming her like wildfire. Blood poured from the wound, soaking her shirt as her body lurched forward. The man grinned, his face twisted in sadistic pleasure as he pressed the blade deeper.

"Tell me where Ghost is!" he shouted, his breath hot against her face.

But her eyes never left him, even as her body fought to stay conscious. She was shaking, every part of her telling her to just give in, but she refused. She would not break.

Her vision blurred as she struggled to stay awake, the weight of the darkness pressing in on her. Her body ached in ways she hadn’t thought possible, the pain from her wounds only adding to the suffocating despair threatening to consume her. She felt the coldness of the concrete beneath her, the rough ropes digging into her wrists, and her breath came in ragged gasps, each one more difficult than the last.

She could hear the harsh footsteps of her captors pacing around her, the creaking of the wooden floorboards in the corner of the room as they waited for her to break. But she wouldn't. She refused to.

The man in front of her, the one who had been speaking to her with such cruel amusement, stepped closer again, his face twisted into a grin as he watched her closely, his fingers brushing the edge of her bloodstained shirt. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" he sneered, his voice thick with mockery. "Tougher than most. But that's not going to save you."

Her lip curled in a defiant sneer. She wasn’t about to give them what they wanted, not even if it meant her life. "Go ahead," she spat, her voice hoarse. "I don’t know where he is, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. He’ll find me. He always does. You’re wasting your time."

The man's grin faltered for a split second before he recovered, his fingers tightening around the knife in his hand. He moved so quickly that she barely saw him coming, but she felt the sharp sting of the blade as it sliced across her stomach, the pain searing through her like fire.

She couldn’t suppress the scream that tore from her throat. Her whole body lurched forward, the ropes digging deeper into her skin, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of begging. She had to hold on.

"You're still not talking?" the man growled, his eyes narrowing. "You think Ghost is going to come and save you? You're nothing but a liability to him now. You're going to break, sweetheart, and when you do, I’ll be the one who gets the answers."

Her head swam with the agony, but she clenched her teeth and glared at him, her gaze unwavering despite the tears that welled in her eyes. She felt the warm trickle of blood from her wounds, but she refused to show weakness. The man’s grip on the knife tightened, and with a low snarl, he cut her again, this time across her arm, the blade slicing through flesh with sickening ease. She gasped, her body jerking involuntarily, but she didn’t give in. She wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t let him break her.

Her eyes never left his as he loomed over her, his face twisted in anger. "When we’re done with you, you’ll wish you had talked."

She couldn’t stop the flicker of fear that crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with a cold smirk. She knew Simon. She knew how far he would go to find her. He would come. He had to.

"You don’t get it," she said, her voice steady despite the pain. "Once Ghost comes for you, none of you will be left standing. He’s ruthless. And you’re just making it worse for yourselves."

The man sneered, his patience running thin. "I don’t need you to tell me how dangerous he is, sweetheart. But if you’re going to be difficult about this, maybe we’ll just have to make sure you look pretty for him."

At that, she felt a chill run down her spine, the implication clear. They would break her in ways that even Simon couldn’t stop. They would use her to get to him, and they would do it in the most brutal, unforgiving ways.

"Go ahead," she whispered. "Do your worst."

The man looked at her, eyes cold with malice. Without warning, he slapped her across the face, the force of the blow snapping her head to the side. She felt a sharp pain in her jaw, and her vision blurred for a moment, but she fought to stay conscious, to stay defiant.

"You think you’re tough?" he sneered. "We’ll see how long you last."

The pain from her wounds was becoming unbearable now, the world around her spinning in and out of focus. She could feel herself slipping, her body growing weaker as the blood poured from her wounds, but she held on. She had to.

She couldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they had broken her.

The man turned his back on her, muttering something to the others in the room. Her vision was fading fast, the black spots crawling into the edges of her mind, but she heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Then, footsteps moving toward her again.

When she looked up, the man was standing in front of her once more, and this time, he was holding a gun in his hands. Her heart lurched in her chest, the weight of her situation hitting her with brutal clarity.

"You’ll die before you see him again," he said coldly, pressing the barrel of the gun against her temple.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye. But even in the face of death, she didn’t break. She wouldn’t. She had promised herself that she would never let them see her scared, never let them know how much she longed for Simon to come and save her.

She heard the door creak open. Footsteps. Low voices. But none of it registered in her mind. She was fading fast.

And then, as everything went black, she heard the softest whisper.

The last thing she felt was a wave of calm, as if her body knew what she couldn’t accept: he would come for her.

[sulatni-flerida11]

flames

inspired by wild life session 5 + some headcanons of the fandom :]

The moment Jimmy hears thunder strike – not from the wild card of the session, but from a fallen player – the joy that fills him quickly turns into something… burning. It doesn’t hurt, (in fact, it’s very pleasant), but he’s surprised about the sudden change. His teammates can’t offer him any advice about it, and he doesn’t dare to ask Grian at the moment as he’s still grieving.

He comes to the next person “best at handling problems” he knows, who also happens to be the one “best at handling fire.”

The sudden concentration of heat outside his not-so-flammable-anymore base made Tango raise a brow. The session is over, and though he can think of reasons to be on the receiving end of arson from this session, he doesn’t know why anyone would bother.

“Tango?” a familiar voice calls out. “Are you here, or?...”

He calls back as he fixes his belongings, “Hey Jimmy.” He hopes his smile is audible. His soft spot for the avian never faded away since they were soulbound, and they’re both sure whatever they’re feeling for each other has nothing to do with that mechanic.

“Could I… Mind giving me advice?”

“Give me a sec, hold on –” Tango finally secured his goodies from the Trivia Bot.

He walks out to greet Jimmy, (though he is also a bit confused as to why the other didn’t just walk in). “What do you need, songbird -”

He stops in his tracks.

Jimmy’s feathers are burning.

“What –” Tango approaches quickly, waving his hands around as an attempt to pat the flames down.

Jimmy laughs. “Tango, that’s unnecessary -”

“It’s unnecessary?” Tango feels himself heat up in anger directed at whoever caused this. “Jimmy, who am I killing next session -”

“You literally can’t do that. You’re green. I’m the one that needs the kill.”

“Then who am I helping you kill next session -”

“Tango!” Jimmy moves to grab Tango’s arms, and the latter moves away quickly.

“I’m running hot right now, Jim. You don’t want to touch me -”

“The flames don’t hurt me anymore.”

That stops Tango. “What?”

Jimmy flaps his wings, showing how the fire on the tips of the feathers continues to burn brightly. Even the few feathers on his face have sparks, and Jimmy isn’t flinching a single bit. Little puffs of smoke come out of it, similar to Tango’s flame of hair (if you can even call that hair).

Moving again, Jimmy finally grabs Tango, who snaps out of his shock the moment physical contact is made. His immediate reaction was to pull away, but Jimmy keeps his grip firm but gentle.

“I… I don’t think I’m quite a canary anymore.”

Slowly, his golden feathers envelope both of them. Tango watches carefully, instincts telling him to run, run, you’ll hurt him, but no signs of pain reveal themselves on Jimmy’s face.

“You’re like… a phoenix now,” Tango whispers in awe. The golden feathers look molten and bright with the fire, warmth seeping into his bones despite already being warmer than usual.

“Seems like it,” Jimmy laughs once more, and void Tango wishes to capture the vision in front of him for life. “I came here to ask how you handle your fire, since you were born with it and all, but…”

He motions between them, the gap closer than ever before without fire resistance potions now they don’t have to be cautious about Tango’s heat.

“... this is nice,” Jimmy finishes with a smile.

“Aww,” Tango groans fondly, “I don’t want to let go of you now. Mind me stealing you from your team?”

Jimmy slaps him lightly on the chest, “Don’t you dare! Unless you want Scar to come here and destroy your base again.”

“Fair.”

The two laugh, enjoying each other’s company and warmth.

[saioratral]

forget - mysterious figure who happens to be good at manipulation? what could go wrong? (gn! reader) warning: mentions pills  note: i 100% went off topic cause i took some flu tablets and now my brain is just everywhere so hopefully this fits your request :) i am one blink away from falling asleep on my table and i might rewrite if it doesnt fit your request ^^

another night spent mindlessly watching tv, your eyes glued to the screen as the world outside becomes a blur. you sat from sunrise, after watering your plants and finishing house chores. you didn’t move a muscle, except for the occasional shifts to get more comfortable. the subtitles become your reading material for the day once again.  

you hear the door open, the clicking of the lock reminded you what time it was but you never got up. instead, you pulled your blanket closer to yourself, burying yourself in the fabric you felt safe in. 

“still watching tv, love?”, a disappointed sigh follows from his voice 

a plastic bag lands on the coffee table with a soft thud to accompany. you don’t make an effort to reach for it. your body was too relaxed to move a muscle. another sigh from him as he leans over, pushing the bag closer, his unfamiliar cologne being overshadowed by the smell of your favourite food.

“you keep forgetting to eat”, he murmurs, almost like he was reading a script. “how long will you keep doing this?” 

he walked into your room, long gone from your vision. you shrug, sitting up from your seat with the blanket draped on your shoulder. you realise how inconvenient it would be for you to eat, so you get up and sit on the floor this time, using the coffee table as your dinner table. 

you quickly open up the box and take out the spoon from the packaging. the smell of food hits you, and your stomach growls in response. your hands tremble as you pick up the spoon, ready to eat. heavens must have blessed you with a drink to accompany the food and you quickly take a sip before taking a bite- 

wait… wait a minute 

you stop the food entering your mouth, the spoon near your lips as if teasing you to eat it but you didn't. there’s a strange taste, something off about your drink. the condensation on the cup catches your eye, but that’s not what makes your pulse quicken. it’s the nagging feeling that something isn’t right.

"who brought me this...?" you whisper to yourself 

the man, where was he? you saw him enter your room. bracing yourself, you get up and grab the plastic fork that came with the food and pull your blanket tighter around you as if it can shield you from whatever this is.

almost quietly, you flick the lights open but there was no one. your stuff were still in place. you look at the bathroom, the light off meaning it was empty… huh? you hear your front door close, a lock sound followed confirming your suspensions.

your body froze… just what the hell was going on here? you race back to the living room and everything’s the same except your food. it was closed shut, to keep the food warm and there was a tissue neatly folded under the drink. 

turning left, you notice the light of your kitchen open. you slowly tip toed there, to catch whoever it was. you enter the kitchen and stop dead in your tracks. he’s there, looking impossibly calm, teal hair perfectly styled, a man who feels like a stranger, though you know you’ve seen him before.

“what are you doing?”, he asks 

technically it should be you asking, but his question made you freeze. your throat does not allow a single sound to escape, and you stare at him for a minute. you stupidly stood with a fork aimed at him.

“who are you?”, you demanded him to speak. “and what are you doing in my house?” 

“im rin.. your boyfriend? you forgot your pills again, didn't you”, rin’s eyes flicker toward you, lips curling slightly at the corners

pills? what pills? you don’t even know what he was even talking about. before you can react, rin has already closed the space between you. out of fear, you back up and point the fork more directly this time. he sighs, looking tired from whatever he was up to before he came home. 

“enough”, rin says and forcefully snatches your fork 

great. now you were defenceless and keep backing up from him. he moves closer, and instinctively, you back up until your legs hit the edge of the counter. he places a hand on your waist, lifting you onto the counter like you’re nothing, like you belong there.

"where are your slippers, love?" rin’s voice is sickly sweet, a tone that makes you feel like you're supposed to answer

“slippers..? i think i left them in my room", you stammer. “and you- you’re really my boyfriend?”

"you need this," he adds, offering the pill along with the drink from earlier

he finally pulls out an unfamiliar orange bottle from the cabinet. when did you ever have that? why can’t you remember? you look at him, as if asking what it was but his piercing teal eyes made you forget. 

“take it”, rin demands softly, but you picked up the force in his voice. “don’t make this harder than it needs to be”

now, as a sane and intelligent person, you shouldn't consume a pill you aren’t familiar with. this hot man was handing you a pill, you should obviously deny it but you swallowed it like the kids that always enter the haunted house instead of just leaving. are you the main character of a movie? if so, you were doing a horrible job.

"i told you," rin leans in closer, his hand resting on the counter, trapping you in place as you struggle to keep your thoughts together."you need to take care of yourself. eat more. take your medicine."

“what was that medi-”

“i got gummies if it tasted bad” 

rin cuts you off, offering a packet of your favourite green treats. you take it, opening it while looking at him weirdly. why were you suddenly feeling dizzy? how could you not remember who he was?

“take care of yourself properly. okay?”, rin asks for confirmation 

you nod, despite the chaos of confusion in your mind. you feel like you're losing grip on everything, everything except him.

“look at me”,  hand suddenly shifts, gripping your jaw with a sudden force that makes you flinch, but he doesn’t let go. “relax” 

he leans in, resting his forehead on yours, allowing you to dismay all the alarming bells ringing in your head. his gaze shifts downward, and before you can even process the thought, his lips are on yours. the kiss is overwhelming, leaning more on controlling. your body responds despite the internal conflict, too lost to remember who you were before him.

because he's your boyfriend, right? he must be. he wouldn't hurt you. he wouldn't make you feel this way if he didn't care.

of course, he’s your boyfriend. he’s just taking care of you, isn’t he? he definitely wasn’t your old childhood friend from your hometown who made you take non prescribed pills to mess with your brain after you rejected him. he also definitely didn’t tamper with your drink to make the effects last longer.  

why would he? 

rin is your boyfriend after all, silly!

© saioratral 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images used are from pinterest

[cs-fox]

DEEP COVER | FEM! READER X KÖNIG PART 2

TAGGING @werschitz !!

warnings 4 this 1, it's a little suggestive, but i stayed away from any actual 18+ stuff.

if you want that from me, just ask ig 😂

requests r open as well if u like my work <33 i'd love 2 hear any ideas !!

read part 1 here

______________________________________________________________

Your POV

Two weeks into your mission, you’d been widely accepted into your new role as an assassin for hire - working under Tenebris.

They had sent you on a few meaningless assignments, all of which you completed with no issues. They varied from distribution to punishment - needless to say, with your training, you excelled.

The lord of the operation was glad of you, often inviting you to high-end bars for parties, which you accepted, hoping for a window to open where you could gather some, any, intel.

Which you found - almost too easily.

Codenamed “Sovereign” by KorTac, one of the leading operators of Tenebris, had taken quite a liking to you. Often you found yourself in his company - and more often, he was drunk, with a loose mouth.

From these late-night conversations, you gleaned some information - these narcos had ties to the South American Military, along with an obscure Russian operation, the operating base you had arrived to was but a facet of their operation. Sovereign had slurred out that he’d even met some figures of interest that appeared on KorTac’s watchlist, using them for covert operations associated with their ghost supply of money, and untraceable distribution tactics.

This man seemed to trust you with his life, at least while he was drunk.

There was only one problem - he was sending you on continually more demanding assignments. Slaughtering the mercenaries that had been giving his operation trouble - and capturing their colonel.

Your colonel.

König.

Hier wird es kompliziert.

This is where it gets complicated.

Upon seeing König’s reaction to your position, Sovereign would know of your situation. He would put you in a dilemma - it was easy to foresee that. He would ask you to kill Colonel König, or face death.

You’d have to figure out that obstacle when it arose.

König’s POV

His team had received a strong lead on the drug operation that they were tracking. Seven men had been holed up in an apartment building for four days, waiting on orders, only to be told that the group they were chasing was five floors below them.

König paced constantly, checking his rifle at least ten times before he gave up and announced they’d be leaving in fifteen minutes. Horangi seemed to be the only man without a pale face, and König appreciated that.

Because the way his stomach was churning, he wasn’t sure if his team would make it out alive.

Two hours later, his team was elbow-deep in blood and cocaine, wading through the few men that tried to oppose them with AK-47s. With quick, concentrated fire, they all fell.

But before König could even register what was happening, he was face-to-face with the verdammt Füchsin fucking vixen who’d given him so much strife.

She was wearing a black mask, the same as her fellows, to hide her identity - but König would know those eyes anywhere.

He was about to roar to his men orders that would only result in her death when he felt a thudding pain on his plate carrier. He whipped around, hissing, only to end up with his ass on the ground and with a gun pointed to his head.

And her hand was wrapped around the grip.

His team paused, unsure what to do. Unfortunately, König didn’t get to find out much of what happened next, because his vision went dark, and in the last few moments he was conscious, he felt his huge body slam down onto the floor.

König came to in a bright room. Sunlight filtered down from huge windows, obviously the person who lived here was rich.

The person in question sat in a plush-looking recliner, with a man wearing mismatched tactical gear on each side. But there was a figure kneeling in front of him - she’d shed her mask, and that face was all too visible. That face…

For a second - König was sure he hadn’t imagined it - her eyes softened. Worry? Sympathy?

He wanted to grab her and slam her to the ground, for what she’d done. 

Verdammte Schlampe!

Fucking bitch!

He felt far too groggy to move, though.

She stood up, calling something out to the man seated. He stood up, and walked over to her, placing one hand on her waist.

Anger bubbled, hot and intense, in König’s gut.

That - she - was his.

Wie konnte er es wagen?

How dare he?

König surged to his feet, disorientation forgotten in the moment. The mercenaries jumped forwards, protecting their leader, but König paid him no mind as his hands found his lieutenant’s collar.

He towered over her, yanking her close to him. 

‘You verdammter Verräter!’ fucking traitor!

She trembled, which made a wicked feeling of pride arise in König’s lower stomach. He hissed a breath out over her uncovered neck, so he could feel her shudder at the feeling, before throwing her away. To his disappointment, though, she barely stumbled, breathing uneven.

Their ringleader smirked, and two words fell from his lips which made König’s blood run cold.

‘Kill him.’

Anger flashed in her eyes, but she drew her sidearm. König took a step back, but before he could so much as brace himself, the two mercenaries fell to the floor with muffled thumps.

The leader stumbled, fear etching his features, before a bullet was put through his skull to match his soldiers.

König spun around, with the full intention of grabbing her once more, but she held up a hand.

‘Do you have exfil waiting? Can you call it in?’

König clamped his teeth together.

‘Yes.’ he ground out.

‘Come on.’

As König’s team piled into the black Land Rovers that had been called in for a hot exfil, he dragged his Füchsin vixen beside him, ensuring they were in the same vehicle. She ended up crammed in between Horangi and himself; panting and sweaty akin to all of the other soldiers along side them.

Horangi looked ready to explode; the fierce anger burning in his irises told König as much. His hand was resting on his knife from the second he noticed their mole would be in his vehicle.

König gave him a hard look, before turning to the woman in between them.

‘Explain yourself, schatz.’ darling.

Your POV

The drive back to the airport was hellish.

What with König breathing down your neck, Horangi glaring daggers in your direction, all on top of the other soldiers giving you a wide berth.

You had explained to König during the trip of your position’s deep cover, telling him that you were the one supplying intelligence on Tenebris.

Most still seemed skeptical, but you could tell from the look in König’s eyes that he wanted a whole lot more from you than just an explanation.

Once your team had boarded the plane, you endured the five hour flight back to base with only one little issue - König sat next to you, under pretence of “keeping an eye on her”, but you really guessed he was just trying to get you hot and bothered. If he thought you’d forgotten the interesting sort of relationship you both were in even before you left, he was sorely mistaken.

Every so often, his thigh bumped yours - he didn’t apologise, not once, instead opting to lock you with a stare that was hard to decipher.

The fifth time, he didn’t move his leg away; you could feel the taut muscle underneath his pale fatigues pressed up against your own thigh; which was clothed in dark canvas.

You forced your eyes to stay trained on the window, gazing out at the earth below; not giving him the satisfaction, until you heard a deep, rich voice to your right.

‘Look at me, schatz.’ darling.

You considered disobeying for a few seconds, but the feeling of his leg pressed dangerously firmly against yours made you give in. König chuckled darkly when your eyes met his.

‘You know, meine liebe, I could not stop thinking about you while you were away.’ my love.

You swallowed thickly. That accent - that husky, viscous accent that made your mind turn to pulp - never failed to make that heady rush of desire make it’s home embarrassingly low in your stomach.

‘I - miss me that much, hm?’ you tried for a smooth reply, but the way your stomach twisted made it come out much less attractive.

König leaned in, the dark curtain of his mask draping itself over your shoulder. You could see the wicked amusement in his eyes.

‘Ja.’ Yes.

‘You do not know,’ he murmured, voice dripping with innuendo, ‘Wie ich deinen Geschmack vermisst habe, Liebes.’ how I missed your taste, love.

You shivered, it was like ice sliding down your spine, but you liked it.

‘Sag mir, wie viel.’ 

Tell me how much.

That was all he needed - you knew from the amused rumble that seemed to echo from the depths of his throat.

‘Ich konnte dich nicht aus dem Kopf bekommen, Liebling. Ich habe an dich gedacht, als ich trainierte, als ich aß, als ich... im Bett lag...'

I could not get you out of my head, darling. I thought about you when I trained, when I ate, when I… lay in bed…

His words went straight to your core, and you felt it almost immediately - the uncomfortable heat between your thighs you couldn’t quite shift away from, the dampness spreading through your layers of clothing.

‘Ich habe vermisst, wie du dich um mich herum gefühlt hast,’ he whispered, voice sweet and heavy, like chocolate; melting on your boiling hot skin. ‘wie süß du bist…’

I missed how you felt around me, how sweet you are…

You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, letting your fingers trail down to rest - only allowing him a feather-light touch - on his upper thigh.

‘I knew you’d be all riled up,’ you purred, now tracing little circles with your fingertips.

König made that rumbling noise once more, the one that turned your bones to putty.

He held up four fingers, four minutes, and stood up, walking slowly down the aisle of the jet plane to the bathrooms.

You smiled to yourself, checking your wristwatch. Three minutes, twenty-seven seconds, and he’d no doubt make you forget your own fucking name at thirty thousand feet.

______________________________________________________________

part 3 ???

enjoy x

[djloveyou3000]

Belladonna

Chapter eight

“You know you’re going to tell me everything,” Russell’s rough voice finally broke the silence, deep and commanding. It wasn’t a question or a suggestion—it was a demand.

Bell’s heart sank at his tone. It was the same voice he had used back in West Berlin when they uncovered the horrifying truth of their brainwashing. They’d hoped to never hear that side of him again.

But they weren’t ready to talk. Not now. “No,” Bell muttered, still staring at their lap. “I’m not in the mood. I need time to process.”

The air in the car seemed to grow heavier.

Russell’s jaw ticked, and his patience wore thin. He yanked the car to the side of the road with a sharp turn, the tires screeching as he slammed the brakes. Bell jerked forward, startled, and before they could react, Russell removed his seatbelt and turned toward them.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Bell flinched as his hand shot out, gripping their chin and forcing them to look at him. His eyes were sharp, piercing through them with a mix of anger and frustration, gripping their jaw in a way that made it impossible to turn away. The strength of his hold left Bell’s skin throbbing, and their eyes widened in fear.

“I don’t think I heard you,” he sneered. “Repeat what you just fucking said.”

They tried to pry his hand off, but he only tightened his grip, his other hand pinning their wrists with ease.

“REPEAT. WHAT. YOU. JUST. SAID,” Russell snapped, his voice booming inside the confined space of the car. “I thought I made it perfectly clear—you tell me fucking everything!”

Bell’s wide eyes glistened with fear as they tried to pull away, but Russell’s grip only tightened.

“Bell,” he snapped, his voice growing louder. “I thought I made it perfectly clear—you tell me everything. No exceptions!”

Tears began to blur Bell’s vision, their chest tightening as panic set in.

Seeing their tears, Russell’s lips curled into a cruel smirk. “Oh, is my baby crying now?” he mocked, his tone cold and taunting. “You should’ve listened to me the first time.”

The tears fell freely now, and Bell struggled to free themselves, but Russell’s otter hand gripped hardder , pinning their wrists in place.

“You think I’m going to let this slide?” he hissed. “Do I need to drill it into your skull, Bell?”

Leaning in closer, he took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke directly into Bell’s face. The unexpected action made them cough, their small, broken voice only fueling his dominance.

“You look so pretty like this,” he said softly, his tone shifting into something unsettlingly smooth. His thumb brushed against their trembling lips. “All teary-eyed and vulnerable. I could just fuck you right here, and you wouldn’t stop me, would you?”

Bell froze, their mind reeling at his words. The Russell they thought they knew—the one who had promised to protect them—was nowhere to be found in this moment.

But just as quickly as the darkness in his voice came, it was replaced with a soothing, almost apologetic tone. His grip loosened, and he cupped their face gently, wiping away their tears with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to their forehead. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Bell blinked up at him, confused and trembling, their chest heaving as they tried to catch their breath.

Russell unbuckled their seatbelt and pulled them into his lap, cradling them as though they were the most fragile thing in the world. His hands stroked their back, his lips brushing over their temple, then trailing down to press lingering kisses along their hairline.

“You just made me so mad,” he whispered against their skin. “It hurts me to see you confused and shutting me out. I just want to help you. Can’t you see that?”

Bell’s throat tightened at his words, but before they could reply, he pulled back just enough to meet their gaze, his own eyes shimmering with feigned pain.

“When you don’t let me in,” he continued, his voice cracking just enough to sound sincere, “it makes me feel like you don’t trust me. Don’t love me. Do you hate me, Bell? Am I really just a monster to you?”

He removed his aviators, letting them see the raw vulnerability he was projecting.

“No,” Bell said quickly, their voice trembling. “No, that’s not it! I trust you—I love you!”

They clung to him desperately, their tears soaking into his shirt as they sobbed into his chest. “I’m sorry,” they whispered over and over again, their hands clutching at him like a lifeline.

Russell’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he stroked their hair, his hand occasionally dipping to brush against their tear-streaked cheeks. “That’s my good little Bell,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of pride.

His lips found theirs, kissing them deeply and possessively, leaving no room for hesitation. Bell melted into the kiss, their resolve completely shattered as they clung to him.

“Shh, it’s okay now,” he cooed, pulling away just enough to kiss their forehead again. “I forgive you.”

Exhausted and emotionally drained, Bell eventually fell asleep against his chest. Russell looked down at them, brushing a strand of hair from their face as a dark satisfaction flickered in his gaze.

Carefully, he started the car again, driving home with Bell still curled up in his lap. Once they arrived, he slipped out of the car, carrying them bridal-style into the house.

In their shared bedroom, he laid them gently on the bed, undressing them with meticulous care. He replaced their clothes with fresh undergarments and soft pajamas, his hands lingering a little too long as he dressed them.

After tucking them under the covers, he leaned down to press a final kiss to their forehead, brushing his fingers through their hair.

Standing over them, he lit another cigarette, the glow from the embers casting shadows across his face. His thoughts were a swirling mix of darkness and possessiveness, tinged with a twisted sense of love.

“You’ll always be mine, Bell,” he whispered, his voice low and firm. “No matter what.”

[pushspacetocontinue]

He was down. Hurt enough for Russell to make his escape. His captor would need time to recover, and that was what Russell had needed.

Russell briefly coughed as the smell hit his nose. His first thought was that he had accidentally broken one of the vials during his assault. But his gaze then caught the blue in Five's hair. Was it coming from him?

He backed off. No time to think about that. Russell had to snatch the opportunity before anyone realised something was wrong. He felt a little dizzy and light-headedness had started to set in, but he had chalked that down to the stress of the situation.

Lewis gripped tightly, Russell turned and sprinted out of the door. Thankfully, no one came to intercept him as he barrelled down the narrow corridor, especially now that his vision had to swim and he had found himself swaying and taking a lot of effort to stay on his feet.

His eyes shut briefly and when he forced himself them, his blurred vision now showed him the street outside. His limbs felt heavy as he struggled to keep moving forward. Not even a new wave of anxiety as he saw another vehicle pull was able to stop that.

Please no...

He could barely swing Lewis anymore. His arm didn't even move as a pair of strong hands gripped him and pulled him into the back of the green sedan. Eyes fell shut again as he was put onto the back seat and strapped in. He could hear faint voices as consciousness rapidly left him.

"I got him, Trav! Let's go before anyone sees!"

"Thank fuck, Huey! Way ahead of you!"

The car started to speed away as Travis floored it. He had been right to call Simon, and he was thanking every god he knew of that Russell had indeed left on his location services. Simon had been able to track his phone.

"I think he needs the hospital, dude. He's really fucked up, hey, can you hear me, man?" Huey said. He patted at Russell's cheeks and snapped his fingers in Russell's face in an attempt to wake him up, but it was to no avail. His voice sounded so far away, like Russell was hearing him through water or cotton wool, "No. No good. Someone's been giving him some strong stuff."

"All right... let's go. Hang in there, Custard. You're gonna be fine!"

And then Russell was gone as he slumped backwards in the seat.

Oh, he better not hear a single comment from the others about this.

Whatever Five had previously planned was set aside as he scrambled to get off what remained of the table. He had to be careful to avoid smashing any of the vials that had rolled out of his briefcase, or they'd have to give up on using this building as their base of operations.

A concern that seemed quite pointless as the baseball bat collided with him again. Five raised his arm to shield himself while exposing the still fresh scar on his hand. That one was another sign of shame for the hunter. Though at the moment, his ego was expendable in order to protect his head.

Five let out another grunt when his shoulder was hit. His hair turned back to a more normal black, if not bluish color, as he opened his mouth to say something but only managed another pained noise. He certainly looked pathetic cowering like that, but it was just another way to buy himself some time.

After all, he didn't need to touch his victim to do a number on them. Being in his close proximity could be all he needed to mess with someone.

Something in the room changed as Five curled up in a fetal position, bracing himself to be hit again. There was a faint scent in the air, very much akin to the smell of burned plastic. That might cost him a few ribs, but hopefully Russell was going to be too busy messing him up to notice until he felt too tired to run.

[crandberrysaucewithpulp]

no. no way. not sleeping until they make a country, jazz, or blues album/ep.

[triglycercule]

Why are the murder trio #2 fan and #1 fan, you seem like the murder trio expert

im gonna assume this ask is asking "why do i call myself the mtt's #2 fan and not #1". well the answer is very obvious silly its called being humble :3 someone else out there is 100% always gonna be a bigger fan than me somehow even if i devote my entire life to killerism and dustism and horrorism. also when i first originally made that bio description i was thinking of this one person on twitter who i consider i bigger mtt fan than me (because they do the exact same thing i do. post about mtt reblog mtt content come up with headcanons they make mmds of the mtt and theyve been posting for a HELL of a longer time than i have) so i consider them a bigger mtt fan. keizokugumisuko i will ALWAYS have respect for you. as long as you live i will always be number two but that's ok youre the goat

and zomg,,,,,, i seem like the murder time trio expert,,,,,,, ehshaahahagagaghahahaszszhhhhh tweaking im tweakin out worlds biggest compliment ive ever received. like i said humility earlier because there are ALWAYS gonna be other utmvers who know and like the mtt more than i do but like,,,, lllauggzzzzhhhhahahsgamemerrreewwmrewmreweemowmoeowmeowmeowmeowrufurdeubrarkbarkbark i feel so proud and accomplished and happy to be considered an mtt EXPERT by this random anonymous asker

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Red. That was all Simon could see as he barreled through the barracks, ignoring the concerned onlookers as he slammed open door after door.

He was just washing up for the day, ready to head to his quarters when he’d heard whispers of you being admitted to medical. The words “banged up pretty good” were all he needed to hear before setting off in a panic to find you.

You were everything to him. Simon Riley was a man who swore he’d die alone and be happy doing so, until you came along. You, with your terrible jokes, your witty personality, your loyalty and determination and gods damn your fucking smile. He’d do anything to see you smile.

Love wasn’t something that came easy to Simon, but with you it did. Loving you was as easy as breathing, it was natural. He loved you from the moment he saw you, and would love you until the day he died.

The door to the infirmary flung open, and Simon strode in with purpose, his eyes scanning the entire room. When they landed on you, Simon felt his heart drop, his blood running cold.

“Who did this?” Was all he said, his cold gaze softening ever so slightly as he took in every cut and bruise that littered your beautiful skin. It took everything in him not to yell, to scream.

Your eyes dropped from his, your lips forming a thin line as the nurse beside you finished stitching the large cut that now adorned your shoulder.

“Y/N.” His voice was stern, causing you and the nurse to jump slightly.

With a small smile aimed at you, the nurse gave a polite nod to Simon as she ran past, leaving the two of you alone in the now eerily silent room.

“Tell me.” Simon demanded, sinking to his knees in front of you. When you still refused to meet his gaze, he gently rested his index finger on your chin and tilted your head to look at him. His eyes were soft, gentle as he gazed into your own. “Tell me.”

The tenderness in which Simon looked at you had your lower lip wobbling, a soft sob slowly escaping your mouth as you replayed what had happened in your head. “Simon, it’s okay.”

“It’s not. You need to tell me what happened.” His finger gently began to graze your cheek, a tenderness that you’d grown used to over the years with him. A tenderness reserved only for you.

“The mission went south. There was a mole. We got ambushed.” Was all you said, as you struggled to regain your composure.

“Who.”

“Simon, please it’s really okay, I-.”

“Who.”

Your brows furrowed slightly as Simon ripped off his mask, his face now fully visible to you. Concern etched its way across his features as he held your gaze. You knew this was a battle you wouldn’t win.

“Coles. It was Coles.”

“He dead?” Simon asked, his face not showing any of his internal turmoil. If he wasn’t, Simon would make damn well sure he’d suffer for what had happened to you.

You shook your head as your bottom lip trembled once more. “No, but Simon-.”

Simon cut you off with a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering against your skin as he murmured, “Sleep in my quarters tonight, yeah? I’ll be back soon.”

Without waiting for your reply, he strode out of the infirmary, the red in his vision intensifying as he set out to find the mole. Nobody, nobody would harm a hair on his lovers head and get away with it.

Simon would do anything for you, die for you, kill for you. He’d do anything to make sure that beautiful smile of yours was permanently etched onto your lips.

For you, Simon Riley would watch the world burn.

[ohcaptains]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

college! peter parker x fem reader.

18+ only !!! f! receiving oral sex. peter parker has an oral fixation i said what i said. in my spider-man era again.

peter was a weekly visitor at this point. sometimes, it was twice, but never more than three. three was pushing it.

Three said that Peter meant something to you, and you couldn’t have that. No, whatever this was between the pair of you was strictly transactional. It was Peter texting you late at night, the classic, you up? Gracing your screen, and every time, you would pretend to be annoyed.

As if Peter coming around to give you the greatest head of your life was an inconvenience. Tempted, the devil on your shoulder smirking, to type back, Jesus, again? but never doing it. Instead, you wrote: sure.

Still, it plagued your mind. He never asked for anything else.

It was as if he did this purely for himself.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled, clenching down tight. The hand that was wrapped around Peter’s brown curls clutched and tugged, and the unconscious movement earned you a chastised groan. It rumbled through your cunt, and the echo shot to your clit, making you close your eyes and lean back, wet mouth spilling his name into your dorm.

Peter liked hearing you.

Liked seeing you lose your mind with his head between your thighs, your pussy wet and throbbing from his mouth and fingers. It’s why he came around often. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even text, would just knock on your door -- looking sheepish from under his dark curls -- and just. Not. Say. Anything.

His silence was answer enough. You knew what he wanted. Or, needed, as you later figured out, as you saw how red he’d gotten when you told him he couldn’t come around for a bit. When you said something about focusing on exams, he’d come over anyway, whined, shuffled his feet and said, You can do your work, I just gotta…I’ll be quick.

The lack of explanation made your mind swirl. But regardless, you’d let him in and did your work with his head between your thighs. He’d tutored you, too, told you how to solve for x with his fingers inside of you. He’d said, if you let me make you come again, I’ll do your Maths work for the next week. After he’d left, you stared at the scene of the crime in pure silence.

Just…reflecting.

Peter fluttered his tongue over your swollen clit. Focused on swirling it around his tongue in sloppy, wet circles, and the thick desire that swelled between your thighs began to pool at your lower back, forcing you to arch up into it.

“Please,” you wept, even though he was giving you what you wanted. Flat on your back with his deft grip keeping your bare thighs open. It was 8 pm. He’d caught you just after your shower, so the smell of your shampoo and body wash wafted through the air – Lavender and pear.

Peter had spread you open and said you smelled like spring. You’d been far too turned on to comment on it. He grumbled into your cunt, and you managed to work out the word, more? You hummed, too drunk on him and wound tight to verbalise that yes, you wanted more. Wanted him to make you come, and come again, till all you could do was mumble his name and focus on your breathing.

He'd learnt how you liked it. Paid attention, and he was getting full scores as he pushed his tongue flat against your swollen clit and sucked. Your vision went white.

“Oh fuck – ohfuck, Peter—” you squirmed, but Peter was strong, and he held you to the bed with his vice-like grip, wordlessly saying take it take it take it.

He lapped at you, salvia drooling over your cunt and down his chin, soaking the sheets. He was always so careless. In moments like this, that nervous edge that always fluttered around him was gone, replaced by a visceral drive to either please you, or get what he wanted.

The two bled into each other.

His tempo was leisurely, but that didn’t stop the heat from washing over you all at once.

You clamped your thighs around his ears and moaned -- loud, so loud that you were sure the other students on your floor heard.

Still, the ache was erratic, “So good,” you sobbed, and you heard yourself, heard the near primal need in your voice, and the desperation made you embarrassed, made you cover your mouth with your palm and grip the sheets, willing yourself to cool it. 

“Move your hand, or I’ll stop,” he uttered against you, and your clit was so sore that the echo of his words made your eyes roll back. Peter must have seen, as he hummed a laugh, and kissed your inner thigh, “lemme hear you.”

Managing to gain some sense of sanity, you blearily blinked down at him, but all sense of stability you thought you had was wiped away when you saw Peter had his hand stuffed down his pants.

You dropped back onto the bed and sobbed.

You knew he got off on this, but Jesus Christ, you’d never seen that before.

“Gotta be kidding me,” you breathed, and Peter must have understood what you were referencing, as he buried his reddening face into your inner thigh. He let out a breathy chuckle, “’ M’sorry,” he mumbled, “usually I wait till I get home, but you’re just so hot.”

You had to stay completely still, or you’d burst. Usually, I wait till I get home?

Peter moved his face and began nuzzling the wet folds of your pussy. He bumped his nose against your clit, and you quietly choked.

Peter hummed, “couldn’t help myself.”

You figured he did something like that, but the admission made your thighs tense. You pictured him stumbling home – cheeks still wet with you – and tugging his pants down, quickly shoving his hands into his boxers and taking hold of his aching cock. Did he whimper when he came? Or was he silent, all tremors and low grunts? No. He definitely whimpered.

He was far too pretty to stay quiet.

The sudden desire to kiss him swept over you.

Reaching down, you tugged at his curls, wordlessly motioning him to move. When he did, you briefly saw the red of his cheeks and wet of his nose before you kissed him, all tongue, and tasted yourself on his pink lips.

Peter melted into you. Huffed your name like a sigh, and the sheer tenderness of it had you wrapping your legs around his back and pressing your bare cunt against his jeans.

He was rock-hard. Tentatively, you ran your nails over his chest, and dipped low, pressing between his thighs, cupping his bulge, and gently squeezing. Peter wept.

“Oh fuck,” he sobbed, as desperate as you imagined. With one hand in his hair and the other on his cock, you continued to kiss him, until the ache between your thighs became too much to bear.

“Make me come,” you whispered, “and I’ll put you in my mouth.”

Peter had never moved so fast in his life.