#climbing the tiles to try to get out of the wet

[dsabian]

When you're trying to shower but be conscientious of the poor bedraggled spider in the corner like sorry dude I'll be done soon & can you please not be here tomorrow

[hihomeghere]

Insomniac

Word Count : 1.8k Summary : Five has trouble sleeping and when he does sleep it's anything but peaceful. After a nightmare he craves your touch to remind him you're okay. Warnings/Tags : Talk of nightmares, insomnia, smut, piv, cursing, allusions to violence, use of y/n, Aged up!Five

Happy Valentine’s Day <3

Whether or not Five wanted to admit it he was an insomniac. Blame it on his heightened survival instincts from the apocalypse, or the commission. Whenever it was time to relax and go to sleep, Five felt more wired than ever. Which led to you normally finding him in the strangest positions when he finally crashed. Whether that be hunched over the kitchen table, cold coffee in a mug next to him. Sometimes you’d find him slouched in a chair, a blanket draped over him by one of his brothers. Your favorite was when you’d be watching a movie together, his eyes slowly closing, he’d mumble something along the lines of, ‘just resting his eyes for a second’ before he’d be snoring on your shoulder. A sure sign that he was still an old man in a young man’s body.

It’s not like he didn’t try to sleep. Every night you’d both climb into bed, you’d lay your head on his chest, the soft beat of his heart lulling you to sleep. He’d lay awake, his mind constantly churning. He’d gotten so desperate at one point he’d tried to follow the meditation video Klaus had lent him. Although listening to some lady stoned out of her mind telling him to breathe deep only agitated him further.

On the nights where Five did fall asleep it was anything but peaceful.

Five screamed, waking you up as you all but jumped out of your skin. Five sat up in bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his breathing erratic. You sat up, the sheet pooling around your waist.

“Five?” You whispered your hand lightly grazing his back. He jumped, turning to you like a cornered animal. His lips pulled back in a snarl, wide eyes glaring at you. “Hey,” You pulled back watching the gears turn behind his eyes, guilt washing over him as he realized you weren’t a threat. “Hey it’s ok, you’re ok.” He leaned forward resting his head on your shoulder as you wrapped your arms around him. His heart was beating like a small animal against your chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his head resting in the crook of your neck. Hot tears wetting your collarbone.

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” You soothed, your hand traveling up to his head. You ran your fingers through hair, lightly scratching his scalp. He let out a shuddering breath, loosening his grip around your waist. “Do you want some tea?” You asked, you had been trying to help him kick his coffee addiction.

“Coffee.” He mumbled, sighing into your neck.

“Ok, let’s get some coffee.” You said peeling the sheets off the two of you. He sat up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. You grabbed your robe off the floor, wrapping it around your body. Five stood by your bedroom door, bleary eyed. You took his hand leading him down the stairs to the kitchen. You looked at the clock as you passed the oven, 2:35. You internally sighed slipping your hand out of Five’s grasp. He pulled out a chair, grimacing as it scraped across the tile floor. You walked over to your new Keurig, Five’s birthday present. You popped one of the pods in before shutting the lid. You walked over to the kitchen cupboards, pulling out a mug and setting it in the Keurig. The smell of coffee filled the air as Five got up from his seat. He walked up behind you, resting his head on your shoulder. His arms wrapping tightly around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, reaching up to wrap your hand around his neck. You had both been trying to be more open about your pasts. Which meant having these uncomfortable conversations.

“Just-” He sighed, “Just stay with me for a minute, dearest.” You nodded slightly swaying as you both stood in the kitchen. Five loosened his grip around your waist, reaching past you to pick up his coffee cup. You leaned against the counter, pulling your robe closer around your body. He held the mug in one of his hands, leaning his head back against the cupboard cabinet. He let out a sigh before taking a sip of his coffee. “You’re staring.” He mused, turning to look at you.

“I’m just-” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders, “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be.” He said with a tight lipped smile. You raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms.

“I know you better than that.” You said a small smile pulling at your lips as you shook your head.

“Then you know what it was about.” He huffed, bringing the mug to his lips.

“A or c?” You asked, looking down at your feet. You had invented a code between the two of you, A for apocalypse and C for commission. While you couldn’t relate to being stuck in a post apocalyptic world, you were all too familiar with the inner workings of the commission. The killings you both carried out plagued your dreams as well. Your hands had been stained long ago.

“C.” He answered. The commission. Well that narrowed it down.

“Real or not real?” He hesitated, sneaking a glimpse toward you before raising his gaze toward the ceiling.

“Not real.” He said before clearing his throat. You walked over to him, laying your hands on his cheek. He avoided your gaze keeping his eyes lo

“Was it about me?” You asked, pushing his head slightly with your hand to get him to look at you.

“Yeah.” He said clenching his jaw, his eyes darted away from yours. You waited for a moment, to see if he would say anything more.

“I’m right here.” You whispered after a moment had passed, “I’m right here and I’m ok.”

“I know,” He leaned forward his lips finding your neck, he breathed in your sweet scent. The tiniest hint of sweat from the night. His hands found your hips, pulling you against him.

“I need you.” He breathed against your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses.

“You have me.” You sighed, leaning your head back offering him your neck.

The world spun and the temperature dropped as Five blinked you both back to your room. It took a second to get your bearings before your knees hit the bed. You allowed Five to lay you down, his long fingers curling under the waistband of your pajama pants. He pulled them off, while you pulled your shirt over your head.

“So gorgeous.” He murmured, kissing up your stomach. You sighed contently, melting under his touch. He pulled away briefly, pulling his shirt off and stepped out of his pajama bottoms. Leaving both of you in your underwear. He lifted your hips up off the bed, his fingers curling into the waistband on your panties as he pulled them off. Your body buzzed with anticipation as you watched him take off his boxers. He climbed forward onto the bed, slotting himself between your legs. You grabbed the back of his neck pulling him forward into a kiss as the head of his cock found your entrance. Tasting the bitter coffee on his tongue as slipped inside with the familiar ease of a lover. You gasped into his mouth, feeling every inch of him as he pressed inside you.

“There you are.” He sighed against your lips, his own curling into an easy smile.

“Five-“ You moaned, gripping his shoulders as he slowly started thrusting inside you. He never left your cunt, hips rolling against yours. Your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him as close as possible. Your moans and the sweet sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air. You looked up at Five, his eyes bore into yours. You felt a bit shy under his gaze, your eyes darting away.

He stilled, laying his forearms beside your head as leant over you. He covered your body with his own, his hand turning your head so you would look at him.

“Let me see you.” He said softly, nosing against your cheek.

It was moments like this that made you feel like a normal person. Moments when it was just the two of you in the world, two becoming one. He reached down, grabbing your thigh, his fingers squeezing the soft flesh. “You feel so good.” He mumbled, pumping in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. He was taking his time with you tonight, that much was clear.

Your heels dug into his butt, trying to pull him closer to you. He let out a small laugh, his teeth glinting in the moonlight. He slowed, his hips creating a low drag into your cunt with every thrust. His pubic hair rubbing against your clit in a delicious way that had you clenching around him. A low whine pulling its way out of your throat, as he propped himself up.

“You like that doll?” He whispered, his cock rubbed at your walls in deliberate strokes.

“Mmhm.” You nodded tears springing to your eyes as you bit your lip. Your body craved more, more stimulation, more Five. “Please.” You whined, your hands digging into his shoulders, leaving small crescent shapes in their wake.

“Please what?” He asked tilting his head as he leaned down, nipping and sucking at your neck.

“More, I need more please.” You said bucking your hips up to gain and friction.

“As you wish.” He said, his breath fanning across your neck as he snapped his hips into yours. You moaned, your eyes rolling back into your head as he set an excruciating pace. He sat back on his heels, pulling you down the bed with him. He slammed into you, leaving you a moaning mess under him. You grabbed his thighs, nails dragging down his pale legs. Your body buzzed as you neared your high, breasts bouncing as he drove into again and again.

He watched you, picking up subtle signs your orgasm was approaching. Your toes curled as he reached between your bodies, rubbing deliberate circles on your clit.

That was enough to send you over the edge, you spasmed around him, your nails digging into his thighs as you cried out. Tears slipping down your cheeks.

“That’s it.” He smirked, breathing hard. He was getting sloppy as he neared his peak. You continued to ride out your orgasm as his came crashing down.

“F-Fuck.” He groaned spilling into you, his hips stuttering as he painted your insides. He lowered his body onto yours, laying his head in the crook of your neck as he interlaced his fingers with yours. You both breathed hard, letting your heart rate come down.

“How do you feel now?” You asked breathlessly, squeezing his hands.

“Much better.” He nodded, kissing your neck. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” You said pulling your hands away to wrap them around his sweaty body.

Needless to say, Five slept through the night

[chrisdr3]

Come here baby ~MV1

Requested

Summary: Reader gets bored and goes to Max, who makes them sit in his lap and things get heated quickly.

Warnings: Cockwarming, daddy x bbygirl, smut, unprotected sëx, fingering, oral (female recieving), fluff in the end

You were in your office, supposed to read a book, but soon you got bored. Max was in his gaming room, streaming with his friends for about two hours, laughing and yelling constantly.

You decided to go sit with him, not having anything else to do. You entered the room quietly and dragged one chair next to his, sitting down. At first he doesn't notice, but he watched you from the corner of his eye, sitting and watching him play.

He suddenly turned his face at you and kissed your neck. "Hey schat. Got bored alone?" You nodded yes, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He opened his arms "Come here, baby" he said motioning you to sit in his lap.

You climbed in his lap, wrapping your hands around his neck and moving, trying to get comfy. He turned off his mic and got close to your ear "Don't move around and be a good girl." You couldn't get comfy and continued to move in his lap, feeling him het harder and harder, a little part of you wanting to tease him.

He muted his mic and closed his camera again, grabbing you ass. "Take off your panties, babygirl." You took them off and he took them, placing them in his pants pocket, before lowering them, revealing his huge, hard cock. You gasped at the sight. "Sit babygirl, you asked for it." You positioned yourself above him, wanting to sit slowly, afraid of pain, but he slammed your hips down in him making you scream.

"Good girl, now sit here and relax." He lowered the hem of your hoodie, hiding your exposed butt and his dick, turning back on the camera and the mic. He placed his free hand in your waist, holding you down, his dick twitching inside you.

You were practically tearing up by the painful feeling and started clenching around him, wishing he would fuck you. After about 10 mins of him twitching and you clenching around his dick, he gave up and logged off, making an excuse for his friends to not ask questions.

He got up and you wrapped your limbs around him, afraid of falling down. "I'm not gonna let you fall babygirl, relax." He placed you down in the floor and took off both of your clothes, your body having goosebumps by the coldness of the tiles.

"I hope you are not hurt babygirl," he pinched your hard nipple "because I'm gonna destroy you." He slammed his dick inside you, making you moan in pleasure.

He started to thrust hard and deep inside you, making you scream. It was like that for about 10 mins, when you felt your orgasm build up inside you and your pussy clenched around him. "Cum for me babygirl." He growled and you let yourself free, your juices leaking on his dick and your thighs as he pulled out.

He dragged your fingers across your aching hole and brought them up to his mouth, tasting you. "You're very sweet, good girl." He then caressed your folds and pushed two fingers inside, earning a squeal from your mouth, before lowering his head and sucking your clit.

You reached your orgasm again as he devoured your clit like a starved man. "Hold it for me little one, hold it for your daddy." "Y-yes" you moaned, holding in your juices as much as you could, your whole body tense.

He finally finished his meal, giving a final kiss in your clit and folds. "Cum for me, let yourself free, baby." You let yourself free, cum filling your thighs and leaking down to the floor tiles. He then tasted some of your juices, and carried you to the bedroom.

He then kissed you gently and went to clean his office floor. After some minutes he came back, holding a wet towel to clean you up. He got beside you and started to clean you gently, knowing you would be very sensitive and could cum from the tiniest touch.

He finally finished cleaning your thighs and pussy, got the towel in the laundry and came back to you, kissing your neck. "You were such a good girl, little one." He said before adjusting your hoodie. Then you realised you panties were in his desk. "Maxie, can you get me my panties back?" "You don't need them baby, they're mine now." He said wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close, before you fell asleep. "Such a good girl." He whispered as you drifted off to sleep.

Tags: @pinkswaet

[leclerced]

little slice of paradise | op81

summary: oscar and his girlfriend sneak away for some alone time during a family vacation

warnings: 18+ minors dni. this is 5k worth of smut

author’s note: hi babes hope u guys like this! i had fun writing it <3 masterlist

They were on day four of vacation with his family, day four without touching each other for fear of being caught. Oscar had been wanting to get his hands on her since she walked out in the little white bikini and matching sheer skirt tied around her hips. It got worse as the day went on and she rolled around on her towel to get the tan she had been longing for all year while traveling with him race to race. He had to force himself to stop thinking about crawling up her body and sliding her bottoms to the side when he saw her lying on her stomach with her ass on display, her bikini top untied to avoid tan lines across her back.

He lasted until she finally joined them in the water and immediately latched to his back with her arms and legs around him as she piggy backed off him. It would have been fine except she started whispering in his ear about how she accidentally fell asleep and was dreaming about him fucking her right there only to wake up disappointed to find it was just a dream. He sat in silence for a few minutes after she said that, trying not to be obvious they were running away for alone time before saying that he was tired and possibly getting sunburned so he wanted to go in. His family all complained and begged him to stay, but he was already moving towards the shore with his girlfriend on his back. She slid off his back after a moment and challenged him to a race as she swam past him. He let her win so he could enjoy the sight of her jogging through the hot sand in front of them to grab her things and run to the beach house he’d rented.

Oscar’s eyes were already glued to her body, but he felt something shift in him as her sunglasses fell and she bent over to grab them. She had to rearrange her grip on the things she was holding to pick them up so he was able to catch up to her while she was bent over and teasingly pressed himself against her ass. She immediately shot up and he wrapped his free hand around her waist and pressed it flat against her stomach, pulling her against him. “Tonight, I’m going to fuck you just like your dream while you tell me all about it, angel.” He felt her stomach clench under his fingers before he pulled his hand back and slapped her her thigh as he took off running. He looked back to see chase him but instead, saw her standing flushed, staring at him with her sunglasses still in the sand and he laughed at the sight as he ran up the trail to the house.

Oscar layed on the bed catching his breath while he waited for his girlfriend. It wasn’t long before she trailed in and dropped everything in the doorway of their bedroom before shutting and locking the door. She immediately climbed on top of him, straddling his hips as she leaned down and kissed his chest. “You taste good,” she hummed as she flicked her tongue across his nipple before biting it. His hands moved to her hips as he rolled her against him and he replied, “I bet you taste better.” She pressed herself against him at his words, and his grip tightened on her hips as he rolled them over so he was on top before pulled away from her and made his way to the shower.

She followed him to the bathroom and he turned on the shower before pushing her in and dropping to his knees in front of her. she didn’t even have time to deny him as he untied the bows on her hips and her bikini bottoms fell to she shower floor with a wet smack. His hands desperately grasped her skin, one holding her steady on her hip as the other drifted down under her knee and lifted it to his shoulder. Her head tilted back against the tile as he teasingly kissed her thigh, barely brushing his lips against her skin.

Oscar wanted to leave marks more than anything, wanted to cover her skin in hickeys and bruises and bite marks, but this wasn’t a private vacation. His entire family was on the beach and would likely be coming up to get dinner started soon and they didn’t have long. She had to be quiet, but as soon as his mouth found her center and his tongue licked up her slit, she found herself moaning his name and curling her fingers in his wet hair. He slapped the thigh on his shoulder as he nipped at her clit warningly and her breath hitched in her throat as she whimpered and bit her bottom lip to muffle herself as he kitten licked at the bundle of nerves.

He loved having her like this, having his mouth on her as his tongue lapped at her folds. He switched between sucking on her clit and poking at her entrance with his tongue and the combination had her head spinning as she tried to hold her moans back.

She was starting to whine quietly as she rocked her hips against his mouth and he suddenly pulled his left hand from her hip and slipped it between her legs, immediately curling two fingers inside of her. Oscar could feel her clench around his fingers as she tried not to make any noise and failed, moans slipping through her bitten lips. Oscar couldn’t get enough of her as he looked up at her through wet lashes and watched her curl her hands in his hair and tug as she came on his tongue, whimpering his name. He pulled his fingers from her entrance and blindly reached up to push the two fingers into her mouth, gripping at her jaw roughly as her wrist found his hand and guided it to her lips as she moaned around his digits as her orgasm hit her. He could feel the vibrations in his fingers as he fucked them in and out of her mouth, muffling the noise she was making as he worked her through her orgasm. She lightly bit his fingers when his tongue on her clit became painful and he pulled his mouth away.

Oscar gently lowered her leg to the floor and smiled up at her as she whined around his fingers and her hips stuttered towards him, unsure it she wanted more or less of his mouth on her over sensitive cunt.

Her eyes fluttered open as she sighed around his fingers and flicked her tongue across the pad of his fingers before playfully nipping at them as he stood up. Her eyes followed him from waist level to where he towered above her, and she automatically reached out to pull him closer by the waistband of his board shorts. His body didn’t move and she whined, slipping a hand into his shorts to wrap around his hard cock. He sighed at the feeling, eyes shifting from his fingers fucking in and out of her mouth to where her hand had disappeared and was stroking his cock and the combination was making him dizzy. He was going to cum way too fast like this.

Oscar licked his lips as he pulled his fingers from her mouth to kiss her and she melted into him, arching her body so her nipples pressed against his chest. His fingers that were just in her mouth reached down to pinch her nipple teasingly as he pulled her hand out of his shorts. As soon as she broke the kiss and opened her mouth to protest, he pressed his fingers into her mouth again. “Go ahead and shower doll, I’ll take care of it.” She tried to protest by pushing her hand towards him, but his other hand gripped her wrist and he guided her into the stream of hot water. “Going to watch you like I have been all day.” She flushed at his words as his fingers pulled from her mouth and he grabbed the loofa, soaping it up with her lavender body wash before passing it to her. She turned to face the shower head to wet her body before she began washing. As she turned under the hot stream, she was greeted with the sight of Oscar’s soaked shorts falling to the ground with a wet smack. He had leaned back against the shower wall and was lazily stroking himself as he watched her. The sigh of him with his hand around his cock as he watched her sent a shiver up her spine.

They had never done anything like this before, she had never seen that look in his eyes. Her back had been to him for just a moment, and his eyes were locked on her perfect ass, but as soon as she turned his focus shifted to her breasts as she sudsed them up teasingly. His eyes flitted up to hers momentarily and his cheeks flushed before he looked back down at her body just as she pinched her nipple between her fingers and squeezed her breast with her spare hand and he felt his cock twitch as precum dribbled out. She continued teasing him, turned around and bent over to wash her legs as his breath hitched. His eyes were locked on her swollen pussy, and he would have taken the single step forwards to press himself into her if wasn’t terrified of his family coming up to the house as he was losing himself in her. He knew he could keep one of them quiet at a time, but not both. They had tried and been caught at his job too many times to count and Oscar felt it was one thing to have your teammate and best friend walk in on you in a compromising position, but he wouldn’t be able to live it down if they were caught by his family. Even if it was just overhearing moans. He’d have to fake his death and move onto a private island with his girlfriend and have someone row a boat out with supplies monthly to escape the embarrassment.

Oscar was disappointed as she stood back up and turned to him, “Oz, would you wash my back for me?” Her voice was soft as she said that nickname, the one she only used when she wanted something him, and held out the hand with the loofa, he couldn’t say anything as he took the loofa in his spare hand. She turned back around and his eyes glazed over her body as she ran her fingers through her hair before lifting it from her back. He was gentle as he pressed it into her shoulder and began rubbing circles into her skin, gulping as he watched the suds run down her back and over her plump ass. He could feel his balls getting heavy as he grew closer, pumping himself faster as he washed her back. She knew what she was doing, asking him to wash her back. He was slow and methodical, or just focused on her ass and jerking off onto it, and she was completely relaxed as she stood with her chest facing the shower, her arms draped above her head to hold her wet hair up. Oscar’s mind was reeling at her pose as she arched her back and tilted her hips towards him teasingly and the head of his cock brushed against her ass. He had half the mind to fuck her right there, but he thought he heard a door downstairs and knew it was only a matter of time before his family was calling them down for dinner. He pushed her forward and turned her around in the same motion as he dropped the loofa and pressed his lips to hers, his now free hand wrapping around her throat loosely to hold her against she shower wall. She whimpered into his mouth and brought one of her hands down to take over for his between them and she finished him off in a few strokes as he buried his face in her neck and came on her stomach. She giggled as he panted against her, free hand stroking his back lovingly as she rubbed her thumb over the aching tip of his cock.

Oscar batted her hand away as he pulled her in for another kiss and stepped back into the shower spray to rinse them both off. As she turned away from the kiss and bent over to pick up the loofa, Oscar promised himself he’d find a way to fuck her tonight without having a chance of being caught.

Two hours later, Oscar was making up an excuse to run to the store without anyone else. His girlfriend immediately tried to tag along, but he told her he was trying to be romantic and asked her to stay behind so she did, confused and nervous to be alone with his family for the first time. She thought it would be a quick trip, but the 15 minute trip turned into an hour and she was starting to worry as they started their fourth round of cards. Just as she reached to text him, the door opened and he came in carrying a bag of socks and underwear, "Got what I needed, forgot to pack enough." She knew he was lying, she had packed for him and she always packed twice as much as necessary no matter what, even when she tried to size down so he definitely had enough. She wanted to follow him up to his room and quiz him, but it was her turn and his sisters were snapping their fingers hastily at her to go. Oscar returned awhile later and joined her, gesturing her to stand up from her chair before he pulled her down in his lap and rested his chin on her shoulder. He waited until the game finished before he asked, “Do you wanna go on a night walk with me? We can look for crabs!"

Before she could reply, his sisters shouted yes and started sliding their shoes on and he immediately regretted asking in front of them. His mother intervened before he could. She grabbed the younger girl by the arm and said, "Let the love birds go on a romantic walk, they deserve some alone time." Oscar blushed and his sisters eww'ed in unison as they kicked their sandals off and sat back down. His dad dealt out another hand but skipped them as Oscar nudged her off his lap and led her out the door. The house was on stilts in case of hurricanes or flooding, so the door to the house was on the second floor and they had to walk down stairs until the were completely out of view of his family, and he immediately backed her against a wall and kissed her like he’d been wanting to all day. She whimpered into his mouth as her hands found their way into his hair and she tugged beautifully, earning a sigh from him as he tilted his head back at her tug.

She moved her lips to his neck and licked up the column of his throat before she nipped at his adam’s apple and pulled away. “Why did you go to the store earlier?”

He laughed and leaned down to kiss her softly before he said, “Got you a surprise. I’m ‘bout to show you. Don’t bother asking any questions because I won’t answer, just be patient like you have been.”

They walked probably half a mile before they stopped in a completely secluded area of the beach, a few hundred feet from any of the houses. In the moonlight, there was a lone tent on the beach, and she was annoyed they had come across a camper or two and would have to turn back to avoid interruptions while she got her surprise. Then, Oscar pulled her towards the tent and started opening it and she realized this was her surprise as she saw the air mattress inside. She couldn’t help the giggle that left her as he crawled inside and sat on the mattress, patting the spot next to him proudly. “So this is what you were doing for an hour. Not buying socks and underwear.”

He laughed, “I think I’m pretty clever.” She nodded but before she could agree, his smile fell as he pushed her back and climbed on top of her as he licked his lips and said, “Now, I can fuck you without having to worry about anyone hearing.” Her breath hitched in her throat and his lips were on her neck before she could reply as she was whimpered in response. Her legs wrapped around him to pull him down into her and his hips rocked into hers as soon as the touched. She gasped at the contact, then felt dizzy as his hands wormed their way under her cotton shorts to palm at her ass as he rolled his hips into hers, his cock pressing against her cunt and making it throb.

She’d been wanting, needing, him for days. She hadn’t felt him inside her since they had a quickie before their flight and she couldn’t make it another three days until the vacation ended. His hands didn’t stay on her ass for long, Oscar was just about to pull her bottoms down when he felt the ocean breeze hit his skin and he realized he left the tent open. He pulled away and zipped it closed before he sighed dramatically and turned around to see she’d crawled to the center of the mattress and was lying against the stack of cheap pillows he’d gotten with her legs open for him. He fit himself into the space and pressed his lips to hers hungrily. She sank down the pillows and into the mattress and tangled her hands in his hair to pull him with her. He went back to his previous mission to remove her bottoms and this time he’s successful in removing her pajama shorts and lacy bottoms. Her top and bra are next and then he’s kissing his way down her body and nipping at her skin, wishing he could leave hickeys up and down the soft sun kissed skin.

Oscar goes from her stomach to her left hip, then thigh, before he wraps his arms around her thighs and settles his gaze on her cunt. She can’t help but blush above him as she watches him look at her and lick his lips, then look up and meet her eyes as he softly blows on her pussy. She shudders at the teasing, eyes fluttering shut as she whines and he smirks coyly before licking a flat stripe up her slit and wrapping his lips around her clit. A surprised moan is punched out of her as her legs tighten around his head and she gasps, “Oz, baby, feels so good.”

He moans against her as he unwinds his right arm from her thigh and brings it between her thighs to press two fingers inside of her. She’s so wet they slip inside easily and he can feel her cunt twitching around his fingers as she adjusts to the intrusion. Oscar gives her a moment before he begins thrusting and curling his fingers into her. She rocks her hips in tandem with his fingers and mouth and it’s not long before she’s moaning his name as her orgasm washes over her. Oscar pulls his mouth from her pussy when her thighs relax around his head and he rests his head on her right thigh as he pants against her. She tugs on his hair and he lets her guide him up her body, but just as he dips down to kiss her she’s pulling his shirt up his body.

Oscar sits back on his heels and pulls it off over his shoulders and drops it next to them then dips down again, pressing his palms into the mattress on either side of her head.

Her hands find his waist and begin to explore his skin as he skins his weight onto her, hovering his lips above hers as he whispers, “Tell me what you dreamed about, baby.”

She whimpers against his lips, “Dreamed we were on a beach alone… could fuck anytime we wanted. Think we had a whole island to ourselves.”

Oscar can’t help but grin, “Our own little slice of paradise?”

She nods dreamily against him, their lips barely brushing as she continues, “Almost came in my sleep I wanted you so bad baby,” He moans and presses his lips to hers before she can continue, his tongue pressing into her mouth as she’s calling him baby and she eagerly kisses back. The hands that were exploring his chest and back suddenly move down to press his shorts down his ass and he uses one hand to help pull them all the way down, the other stays by her head to support his weight above her. He’s moaning into her mouth again as one of her hands finds his cock and begins jerking it and he’s confused by how slick it is because he didn’t get lube and then his stomach twists as he pulls away, “Did you- you got your hand wet with-“ He doesn’t even finish before she’s nodding and he doesn’t know why he’s so turned on by the thought of her touching herself to get her hand wet to jerk him off was so hot but it was just.. erotic. Oscar pushes himself up and sighs as he replaces her hand with his and presses his cock against her. His are locked on her pussy as he rubs the head along her slit, but the gasp she lets out when he pushes the head inside makes him shift his gaze up to see her eyes flutter shut. “What almost made you cum in your dream?”

Oscar teases her entrance with just his head as he waits for an answer, pressing his free hand against the flat of her stomach to hold her still when she tilts her hips to ease him inside her. With a huff, she says, “You- I was lying like I was today, and you came up and fucked me like that. Woke up and was disappointed to find you weren’t there.”

Oscar wants more details, but he’s too impatient to keep up the teasing when he hasn’t been inside her for four days. He pulls away from her and before she complains his hands are on her hips as he flips her over, “Like this, yeah?” His hands move to her ass and he pulls her cheeks apart and groans, “Fuck, you’re fucking soaked, baby.”

She grabs a pillow and pulls it to press her cheek into as she arched her back into his touch, “Just like that, Ozzie.” Oscar’s cock twitches like that aw she slurs the petname and he guides his hands down her thighs so he can slip between them, then grabs the pillow under her head and pulls it away.

“Hey, I was using that!” She whines, but he ignores her and lifts her hips with his other hand, fingers digging into her skin as her shoves the pillow under her hips. “Oh.”

Oscar grins behind her, then tuts as she reaches for another pillow. “I wanna hear you princess, told you why we came out here didn’t we? Don’t want you pressing your face into the pillow.” She pouts as she presses her cheek into the mattress, the smooth velvet surface smooth against her skin. His words turn her on so much she can feel it drip out of her and blushes at the thought that he might be staring right at her cunt when it happens, and the thought is confirmed as his fingers swipe over her entrance and collect it. “So wet for me, you’re making a mess.”

She whimpers and her eyes flutter shut in pleasure as his fingers press to her clit, “Please, Oz.” His fingers on her ass rub against the skin softly before abandoning her to wrap around his cock and guide it back to her entrance. No teasing this time, he presses all the way inside her and they moan in unison. Oscar can’t breathe with how good she feels fluttering around him, arching her back to press him impossibly deeper. Then he’s fucking her quickly, his hand back on her ass and her cheek is rubbing against the velvet and it’s not so soft anymore as her face scrapes against it. She doesn’t bother trying to muffle any sounds like Oscar requested, lets her eyes flutter shut as she gasps and moans. Her hands grasp for purchase and find a pillow above her. She just wanted something to hold onto, but Oscar tuts again and grabs her arms, pulling them behind her and holding them there.

Her body twitches underneath him as he presses his fingers against her clit, “Told you I didn’t want you to muffle your moans.”

She whines, “I just wanted something to hold onto.”

He softens and relaxes his grip on her wrists and tangles his hand with one of hers, “Good?”

She nods and hums “Good. Perfect, baby. You’re so good, feels so good.” She doesn’t even know what she’s saying anymore, her mind has gone hazy and she’d agree to anything he said this far gone.

He can’t help but grin and lean down to press a kiss to her shoulder. He can feel how close she is as she clenches around him, “You wanna cum for me?” She nods into the mattress and whimpers please eagerly in agreement. “Cum around my cock then.”

Her entire body goes taught under him before she shuddered and came around him with a drawn out moan, her hips rocking back into his as her grip on his hand tightens. He pulls his fingers from her clit and starts to pull out to jerk himself off but she whines, “Want you to cum in me.”

His stomach clenches as he sinks back into her, “Yeah? Fucking filthy. Wanna walk all the way back home full of my cum, talk to my family with my cum in your cunt.” She gasps at his words, “I- Shut up. Don’t ruin it.”

He laughs, “My pretty little slut, I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you anything you want, just say the word.” Her heart stutters in her chest and her pussy flutters as he picks his pace back up, hands planted firmly on her ass and she gets lost in the feeling of his cock in her and how pretty his moans are. She’s not expecting it when his fingers find her clit again as he groans, “Wanna feel you cum around me. Want me to fill you up then cum around me one more time, just give me one more.”

Her breath hitches in her throat and she can’t fight the knot building in her stomach as she nods and whimpers. His fingers speed up on her slick clit, rubbing sloppy figure eights into the bundle of nerves as his hips stutter and he moans her name. All it takes is the twitch of his cock in her and she’s cumming again, writhing underneath him as he fucks them through their orgasms. He finally stops when she pulls her hand from his and he drops his body down onto hers, circling his arms around her waist as he presses a kiss into her shoulder. “‘M gonna rent us a private island one day, make your dream come true. Not a bad idea.”

She can’t help but giggle, “Might have to marry you if you quite literally make my dreams come true.”

He nips at her shoulder, “Don’t tease me… We’re racing in Vegas now, might get you drunk enough to get hitched.” She doesn’t say it, but if he asked right then she would fly to Vegas and get married completely sober. He rolls off of her a moment later, and she whines as he leaves her body and then pats her butt cheek lovingly. She immediately regrets asking him to cum in her when she feels it start to drip out, but then remembers where they are and quickly rolls over and unzips the tent. Oscar gives her a questioning look as she takes off for the ocean giggling. He realizes what she’s doing after a second and takes off after her. His strides are longer so he catches up to her once she’s waist deep in the water and he wraps his arms around her, nearly tackling her into the water.

She squeals in his arms and tries to slip down and out of his grasp but he tightens his arms around her. His voice is teasing as he says, “I was gonna clean you up, but whatever. This works too.”

She turns in his arms, “They’ll understand if we say we went night swimming and drifted too far and had to walk back, and we hopefully won’t reek of sex.”

He nods his head, “Still could have let me get another taste.” He dips down for a kiss and she rolls her eyes as she appeases him, tilting her head back and letting her eyes flutter shut as he dips down to grip her thighs and lift her around his waist as he walks a bit further out. He lets the lazy waves crash over them as they make out for a few minutes before he begins walking back to shore and back to the tent. He’d bought towels for clean up, but they work for drying off so they can redress and go back to the house.

Surprisingly, all the lights are off when they return and when she retrieves her phone from the game table, she checks the time and realizes they were gone for three hours. They sneak off to bed without making any noise and hope that no one noticed how long they were gone, or at least that no one would mention it the next morning or the following night when they snuck out to the same tent after dark to get some action.

[itsphoenix0724]

Hold Me Gently (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Azriel knew exactly what he signed up for when he became the court's spymaster, but sometimes everything gets too much for him to handle.

Warnings: Smut, angsty, negative thoughts about oneself, some dark stuff mentally

Word count: 1.6k

Bonus Chapter!

A/N: Hi loves! I'm excited to put this out for you guys I've been working on it for kind of a hot minute. Please read the tags carefully. I hope you all enjoy it, and as always constructive criticism is welcome. Plus I've got a special surprise coming in December that I may announce later this week so keep a look out. <3

Azriel swore sometimes he could still hear the screams that echoed off the stone walls of the Hewn City rattle around in his brain for days. Rhys had been clear this time. 

Get the information through whatever means necessary, no matter what. 

So that’s exactly what he had done, and it had taken hours. He sent Rhys a message with the information and winnowed directly into your bedroom. He knew you were downstairs in the kitchen because he had sent his shadows earlier to watch you, but he couldn’t bear to have you look at him right now. To have you look at him like he was the most amazing thing in the universe when you had no idea what horrors he committed just an hour earlier. Azriel hides his shame from the portrait of his mating ceremony, turning away from even your painted adoration. He is not the smiling male in that picture. He is not the male who deserves to put his blood-stained hands around your waist. He doesn’t deserve any of it. Not your kindness, not your comfort, not your kiss, or your smile. Not when he spent half the day ripping a man apart. 

Maybe that male had a mate waiting at home too. 

He sneaks carefully into the bathroom, turning the bathtub's faucet to boiling and letting the tub fill. Az peels off his leathers layer by layer, and they hit the clean white tile with a sickeningly wet sound, none of the blood is his. As he watches the red slowly seep onto the floor he knows that the tile’s just another thing he’s ruined. 

He wishes he could peel his skin off as well. 

Azriel sinks slowly into the tub, letting the sting of the hot water work every muscle. He wanted to erase everything, to let the water cleanse away his disgusting actions. His shadows send a whisper of you humming quietly from the kitchen and he almost bursts into tears. How had the cauldron given him someone someone so gentle? How did you wake up in their bed every day and not know you slept next to a monster? Az sinks under the surface, unable to bear the rushing in his head, and doesn’t come back up until his lungs are screaming for air. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You knew something was wrong when your mate didn’t immediately come to see you after returning from his mission. You had heard the faucet start to run while chopping vegetables for dinner, and you assumed Az was quickly rinsing off before he joined you. After half an hour had passed you started to become concerned. You knew your mate, and even though he never told you specifics, he sometimes needed time after his return from the Hewn City. You silently creep up the stairs of your home, avoiding all the creaking floorboards that might tip Azriel off. You swing open the bedroom door, but he is nowhere to be found the only evidence of him is a trail of blood that sends your heart into overdrive. You follow it to your bathroom door, now more worried about his safety than anything. The bond beating in your chest is dark, and it has been since Az left your bed this morning. Throwing open the door you’re met with a wall of crushing darkness. You fight through the swirling blackness, trying to call Azriel’s name, but you can’t see two feet in front of you. A rouge shadow comes to circle your wrist dragging you to your mate’s hunched form in the bathtub, base instinct takes over as you climb into the water hissing as the burning water scalds your thighs. “Azriel,” You call his name, taking his head in your hands. His hazel eyes seem unfocused like he’s looking through you than at you. “Az,”  you rush out again. “Are you bleeding? Are you hurt?” You tilt his head this way and that way before scanning the rest of his body. You shake him at the shoulders trying to get him to see you. Finally, as if Az just realized you were there, he looks at you. 

“The blood isn’t mine.” is all he says before his head thumps back against the porcelain as if it’s too heavy to hold on his own. Your shoulders sag in relief. “You shouldn’t be in here. Go back downstairs I’ll be there in a minute.” He runs the wet silk of your nightgown in between his fingers. You have no intention of leaving this bathtub until you figure out what's wrong with your mate.

“What’s happened?” You push running your fingers through the threads of his inky black hair. “Did the mission not go well?” Azriel scoffs, looking unbothered, but you can see the muscles in his throat tightening with effort to keep something hidden. You try to pull at the bond again, begging him to lower the obsidian shields he builds around himself, his hands shake with the effort of keeping them impenetrable. He still avoids your eyes, yet you try again refusing to yield. “Sweetheart…” you whisper softly and the Shadowsinger cracks before you. His walls rush down and crash against you like a tsunami, the wave of self-hatred that he had been holding in barrels against you with enough force to bring down the mountains. Silver lines his hazel eyes and your heart almost cracks in two. Wrapping your arms around Azriel you cradle him to your body, his hands tighten around your waist seeming torn between pulling you closer and pushing you away. His shoulders shake with the force of his sobs and all you can do is keep stroking his hair and make soothing sounds, trying to calm him down enough to speak. Az takes a shuddering breath, but the tears still stream down his face. You chase them away with the pads of your fingers. 

 “I do not deserve you,” he grinds out, voice rusty from the tears. You rub soothing circles into the joints of his shoulders and it makes Azriel want to throw up. “I am the monster mothers warn their children about at night. I’ve committed horrors that should make you run away in terror” You shake your head with feverance. 

“I would never run from you Azriel. There is nothing too dark or too ugly that would make me love you any less. I promise you I can handle it.” Azriel does nothing but collapse back against you shaking his head back and forth. “Just talk to me please.” He takes a deep inhale, trying to calm his racing heart. 

“I bled a male dry today. Rhys needed information, and he was harder to break than anticipated.” It’s all the information Az is willing to give. You have to stamp down the fury rising in your own chest. Both at Rhysand for putting your mate through this and at the Hewn City itself. 

You’d tear this court apart brick by brick for making Azriel feel like he’s less than deserving of his life. 

You’ll have to talk with Rhys later because for now, your focus is Az and Az alone. You refuse to allow him to continue to carry on like this, cursing yourself for not realizing the effects of this position wearing on him sooner. 

“Look at me.” You pull his jaw towards you, forcing him to meet your eyes “There is no universe where you are not deserving of happiness. You have a job to do, and I understood that when I accepted this bond. I do not fear you, I do not balk from you, and I do not love you any less because of that.” The bond sings with light as the weight finally starts to leave your mate's shoulders. Golden eyes study you intensely before he hauls you against him in one fluid motion and crashes his lips to yours. He tastes like burning whiskey, and kisses you so fiercely you’re afraid your lips might bruise. You hold him together the best you can, afraid that if you let him go he will shatter into pieces before you. “Are you sure you want this right now?” You ask, you’ll give Az whatever he needs, and if he needs a distraction from his head then you’re happy to provide it to him. He nods, leaning down to press his lips to your collarbone. You run your hands along his back grinding yourself into him, and pour love and devotion down your side of the bond to him. His hardness presses against you as he nudges aside the scraps of lace before sheathing himself into the hilt. You let Azriel take what he needs, fucking you on his length, rocking you back and forth. He’s hitting the spot inside you that makes you see stars with such force water sloshes over the edge of the tub, washing away the blood from Azriel’s leathers. You run your hands along the edge of his wing and he roars, one hand almost cracking the porcelain of the bathtub. He changes his pace to pure brutality, using you like no more than a toy. Your thighs shake with the effort to keep yourself upright. He’s ruthless in the way he moves like a hungry predator finally tearing into its kill. Your orgasm tears through you with blinding energy, and you unravel faster than you’d like to admit, but Az always manages to have that effect on you. He loses himself soon after you, tumbling over the edge with so much force he rips the bottom of your nightgown into ribbons. You stare at each other for a long moment, relishing in the afterglow and grateful for the hot water in the tub. 

“I’m sorry for ripping your nightgown,” Azriel rumbles and you laugh a beautiful golden sound. 

“You can buy me a new one later,” you promise, “but for now let me wash your hair.” 

[xxsabitoxx]

Showering / Kinktober Side Quest 3… kinda

Aged up! Megumi x AFAB Reader

Warnings: Fluff with intimate moments / not really sexual but ya know… still fun :)

You shower with your boyfriend quite regularly. Especially after you return bloody and worn from missions. Whether it's a mission only one of you went on or a mission you shared, it doesn't matter how tired you both are, you're climbing into that shower together to take care of each other.

"Turn around." Megumi's voice is thick with exhaustion, motioning you to spin so your back faces him. You do as you're told, forehead pressed to the cold tile wall as Megumi starts to gingerly scrub your bloodied back. "I'll put a salve on it when we're done. It's not too bad, but it will be irritating if I don't wrap it." This time, you had taken the brunt of the damage.

Megumi hated it, to say the least.

“Can’t it wait for morning?” You mumble, eyes closed as you focus on how good it feels when he passes the soft cloth over your bruised shoulders. “No.” And his tone his final, no room for any retaliation. You always put up a fight, it got on his nerves most of the time but�� he always won.

“Fine” you whined, you pressed your cheek into the cool tile now, your face feeling warm from a mix of the steam and Megumi’s gentle touch. His fingers were delicate as they moved lower.

Megumi’s hands are nimble, scrubbing your lower back with such tenderness it only made your face feel warmer. Intimacy like this with your typically cold and stoic boyfriend always sent your heart into a flurry. You knew him long enough to know he had this side, a side reserved only for you.

But that didn’t make you any less flustered, it never ceased to give you butterflies. That was another thing you utterly adored about him, despite being together for years at this point, your heart still skipped a beat when you saw him.

“Ouch.” You hissed, he was pressing the warm cloth over a harsh scrape on your hip. “Sorry.” His tone was slightly strained, he couldn’t stand seeing you in pain. Even on days where you had headaches or just weren’t feeling great, it made his chest tight. He never wanted you to feel these things, even if they were naturally occurring. You always teased him for it.

“…s’okay Meg.” You sighed as he finished up on that one area. “I’m almost done, I swear.” He sighed, dropping to a crouch to deal with the damage that had even effected your right ass cheek. “Poor baby.” He murmured as he used the cloth to gentle clean the skin. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. Of all places to get injured, your ass wasn’t ideal.

“Don’t make me blush, Gumi.” You drawled the rest of his name, always alternating between the two nicknames but rarely saying his full name. “Sorry.” He teased, easing the stress in your heart as his tone turned a little light. When he was done, he placed a gentle kiss on the small of your back, trying not to smirk when you visibly shivered. "Can't help it."

You pushed off of the tile, turning as Megumi stood to his full height once more. You wasted no time wrapping your arms around him, pressing your face into his wet chest. “We still need to clean up.” He murmured softly as he pressed a kiss on the crown of your head. “We already did.” You mumble back, eyes closed as you listened to the steady thump of his heart.

“I cleaned your cuts and scrapes, we still need to clean your body.” Megumi sighed, letting his hands rest on your hips because he didn’t want to hurt your already wounded backside. "Can we just stay like this for a bit?" you knew his answer, maybe that was why you hugged him a little harder. "No, because you'll fall asleep standing if we do."

You sighed, grumbling softly as you pulled away from him to grab your body wash. "Stop pouting." Megumi's tone was teasing, his pretty eyes lidded with exhaustion. He still needed to bandage your back, which was the only thing keeping him from falling asleep along with you. "No" you mumbled, pouring the liquid out to begin gingerly scrubbing your sore body.

This angry act stood no chance against Megumi's soft "Can you wash me?". You sighed, turning to him with a pout still present on your lips. "Of course, I can, Gumi." He smiled, pulling your soapy body close to his as you started to scrub his arms. "Can't really wash you when you hold me like this, Gumi." there was a hint of laughter in your tone, one that made Megumi hold you a little tighter. "You're doing just fine."

Green eyes locked on your hand, watching your fingers massage his skin until suds appear. "Oh, whatever." You worked diligently, trying to ignore the way your back burned as the hot water ran over your marred skin. It took longer than necessary, but you were turning off the water and stepping out of the shower finally.

Megumi's hands still held a tenderness as he used a towel to slowly pat your back dry, uttering soft apologies when he heard your breathing stutter. "you can lay on the bed and I'll patch you up." You nodded, eyes closed as you walked from the bathroom to your bedroom. You managed to get a pair of underwear out of your dresser before flopping onto your plush mattress to wait for Megumi.

He entered the room a few minutes later, setting the medical supplies on your nightstand before going to get underwear and pajamas. No words were spoken, mostly because Megumi assumed you were passed out by now. You were close to it at that point, inhaling the comforting scent of your blankets as the bed dipped.

He worked with care, smiling when you shuddered in relief as the healing salve was spread on your broken skin. Despite the ache in his bones, his body begging him to sleep, he didn't rush a single step of the first aid process. He was comforted by your gentle breathing as he cut the gauze and secured it with medical tape. You had managed to fall asleep once your back was finally relieved of pain.

Which meant Megumi did everything right. That was enough for him as he flicked off the lights, crawling under the blankets and pulling them up over the both of you carefully. "Good night." He basically slurred out, exhaustion already making him relax into a blissful sleep.

[callsign-rogueone]

lean on me

Sawyer Henrick + Ridoc Gamlyn Sawyer runs out of painkiller and drags himself, fully clothed, into an ice-cold shower in an attempt to take the edge off. It works, but once he sits down on the tile floor, he can’t get back up to turn the water off. Feeling that his rider is trapped there, freezing cold and dissociating, Sliseag reaches out to Aotrom, who sends Ridoc to the rescue. words: 3.2k 🏷️: trying something new, so be gentle with me pls, written before the release of Onyx Storm, set 2-ish weeks after the end of Iron Flame. nonsexual nudity, brief description of Sawyer’s injury site (Rid changing his bandages) but no blood or anything, mentions of nausea and skipping meals, the word puke is used exactly once, painkiller reliance, negative self-talk — Sawyer’s self esteem issues re: the injury and not bonding in his first year make an appearance, as well as Ridoc's guilt for letting things get this bad. this could be read either as platonic or as a ship fic, if you want. there’s mutual I love you’s in there, but nothing too romantical — and if you aren’t cuddling with your homies on the regular, wyd?

“Sliseag’s boy needs you.”

Ridoc is out his door and down the stairs in seconds, headed to the first-floor room they’d moved Sawyer into after he’d been discharged from the infirmary. The door is unlocked, the room empty, but he can hear water running in the bathroom right across the hall.

“Sawyer?”

No response. 

Then he sees a person sat against the wall under the spray of one of the faucets — unmistakably Sawyer, from their red-brown hair and pale skin. He’s still dressed. He hadn’t drawn the curtain, seemingly just turned the water on and sat down under it.

“Sy?” Ridoc tries again quietly, not wanting to startle him — nothing. He reaches up to turn the water off, and only then does Sawyer seem to notice his presence, looking up from his blank stare at the opposite wall.

His cheeks are wet, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes red and swollen from crying. His entire body is trembling — from pain or from the cold, Ridoc can’t tell. How long has he been sitting here?

Ridoc steps into the shower and kneels beside him. Water instantly soaks into the knees of his pants, but he’s used to the cold, being an ice wielder. Regardless, he isn’t focused on that right now, just on making sure Sawyer is okay.

Maybe okay isn’t the right word. There’s clearly something wrong if he’s in the shower fully clothed, and okay might be too lofty a goal for him these days after losing more than half a leg. 

Sawyer blinks a few times, coming back to reality and seeing the soft expression on Ridoc’s face — not pity, but genuine concern and love.

Sawyer had pushed him away for two weeks, pushed everyone away and insisted he’d be fine on his own, but Ridoc is here with him now. He was willing to climb in with him, to sit across from him in the cold water and guide him back into reality. He knew something was wrong, despite Sawyer’s reassurances that he was fine, and he sought him out in hopes of fixing it. 

“Hey,” Ridoc coaxes softly. “Talk to me.”

Sawyer can’t form words. Tears start to slip down his freckled cheeks, mixing with the cold shower water that’s still dripping from every inch of him. 

Ridoc moves closer, until he’s just inches away — hesitant, not wanting to cause him further pain. 

Sawyer closes the gap for him, letting his head drop against Ridoc’s shoulder as he continues to cry, quiet little sniffles that break Ridoc’s heart right in half.

“I know it hurts, Sy. I’m so sorry.”

He wraps the older boy in a hug, not minding the cold water that soaks from Sawyer’s clothes into his. His heart clenches as he realizes how thin Sawyer has gotten without the daily exercise, and without as much food — the healers had said something about the pain tonic reducing appetite and causing nausea, but the squad had been too relieved that he was still alive to properly focus on the instructions they’d been given. 

Ridoc can’t help but berate himself for letting it get this bad. He should have been more careful. He should have checked in on Sawyer more often, ignored the boy’s insistence that he’d be fine in his own room at Basgiath, and that the rest of the squad shouldn’t let him keep them grounded. 

Second squad had agreed without too much protest, knowing that the fight was far from over, and they needed as many trained riders as they could get.

Still, it shouldn’t have come to this. 

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats, bringing a hand up to smooth down his wet curls. “We should have been there for you earlier.”

Sawyer doesn’t respond, but his breathing has steadied, the sniffling quieted. He’s still shivering, leaning into Ridoc for warmth — he must have been sitting here for some time if he’s this cold. 

“Let’s get you dried off,” Ridoc coaxes. 

Sawyer nods against his shoulder, taking a breath to brace himself for the discomfort of standing again. 

Ridoc rises to his knees, then his feet, hooking his arms under Sawyer’s to help him up. Sawyer pushes up off the floor, a soft cry parting his lips as the movement sends a needle of pain up his spine.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Ridoc soothes, the only thing he can think to say at the moment. “Hold on to me, it’ll take the pressure off.”

Sawyer shifts his weight, making the five steps to the small bench more bearable. 

Ridoc finds a clean-enough towel on the counter, extending it to Sawyer. “Dry your hair if you can. I’m gonna find you some clean clothes, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Sawyer makes the slightest nod of understanding, back to his slow-blinking silence. 

Time has been reduced to the slow drip of water down his face. He doesn’t know how late it is, or how long he had sat in the shower. It’s dark out, but it’s January — it gets dark after four. 

Ridoc is back quickly. Sawyer still hasn’t dried his hair, so he takes the towel back from him, working it through the wet red curls gently. His hair has gotten long enough to cover the tops of his ears. Ridoc would offer to do something about it later, but he’s not sure Sawyer would trust him with the task. Rhi, maybe. 

“Arms up,” Ridoc coaxes.

Sawyer complies, allowing Ridoc to peel the soaked tunic off. It’s unceremoniously dropped to the floor with a quiet splat, replaced with a soft towel that Ridoc wraps around his shoulders.

“Alright. How do you want to do the pants?” Ridoc asks gently. “We’ve seen each other naked before, so I don’t care either way, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable — and I don’t want this to hurt.”

“It’s going to hurt no matter what,” Sawyer says distantly, the first words he’s spoken since Ridoc found him. His voice is a raw whisper, hoarse from disuse. “I can take them off myself if I have something to lean on. Putting new ones on is always harder.”

“Okay. Whenever you’re ready,” Ridoc offers quietly, holding out two hands. 

Sawyer wavers a bit as he stands, holding onto Ridoc’s right forearm with one hand as he finds his balance, then slowly starts pulling down one side of the waistband, then the other, until they drop to the floor, a wet heap of fabric around his remaining foot. 

Ridoc doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to that sight, if it’ll ever stop feeling like a punch to the gut.

It’s not about you, he reminds himself. However uncomfortable and upset you are about this, Sawyer is probably ten times as much — it’s his body, his life that’s changed forever. 

Ridoc guides him back down onto the bench, kicking the soaked shorts aside, next to the shirt, and looks at Sawyer, trying to read the expression on his face. 

“Do you want a break, or…”

He shakes his head. “Pass me the shirt?”

Ridoc hands him the dry t-shirt he’d found in Sawyer’s room, one of the few clean garments he had left. He doesn’t ask if Sawyer wants help with this part — he gets the feeling that this is probably deeply embarrassing for him, and that he wants to do as much as he can on his own.

Sawyer tugs it over his head, easily putting his arms through the sleeves, and stepping through one leg of the boxers, pulling them up to his knee.

Ridoc extends an arm again, a silent indicator that he’s ready when Sawyer is. 

Sawyer takes another breath, gritting his teeth as he stands, but he seems more steady this time — putting more of his weight on Ridoc, trusting the other boy to hold him up as he dresses himself. 

Back down again. Sawyer takes a second to catch his breath, willing himself not to cry again.

“Shorts too, or…”

Sawyer shakes his head no. He doesn’t want to go through the up-and-down again, and he just wants to sleep. That’s all he’s really done this week, because sleep is the only place he’s comfortable — if you don’t count the nightmares, that is. 

“Okay. Can I look at the bandage?”

Sawyer nods, exhausted but knowing that the wrapping needs to be replaced; it’s soaked, the cotton gauze swollen with water. He definitely wasn’t supposed to bathe with it on, but he wasn’t really in his right mind when he’d dragged himself into the shower, just desperate for any sort of relief from the bone-deep ache and the shooting pains that keep coming whenever he moves.

Ridoc unwraps the dressing gently, keeping one hand on Sawyer’s other leg in an attempt at comfort, and bracing himself for the worst, but trying to maintain a neutral expression on his face. 

It’s not as bad as he’d thought. It doesn’t look infected, and the stitches are still holding the skin together in two intersecting, slightly-wavy lines. They’re probably ready to be removed — he’ll ask about that tomorrow morning, when he takes Sawyer to see the healers.

Ridoc tosses the wet bandages into the trash, reaching under the sink for the basic first aid kit that’s kept in every bathroom in the dorms. There’s enough gauze in there to make a passable re-creation of the neat dressing that had been on it before. It’ll only have to last the night, anyway; the healers will put on a new one in the morning. 

“Is that too tight?” Ridoc asks, looking up at him.

Sawyer shakes his head no, eyes still closed. He’s so tired, even after a day of doing hardly anything.

Ridoc stands, gathering the wet clothes and wringing them out over the sink. He’ll wash them tomorrow — Sawyer is running out of clean clothes, having been pretty much bedbound for the last two and a half weeks and unable to do his own laundry.

“You ready to get back in bed?” — A nod. — “Do you want your crutches, or do you want to lean on me?”

“You,” Sawyer says softly, blinking up at Ridoc. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open.

Ridoc pushes down the little swell of pride at Sawyer’s choice, draping the boy’s arm across his shoulders and hooking an arm around his waist to hoist him up. He lets Sawyer set the pace for the twenty-foot walk back to his new room, making sure that he’s well-supported. 

Thankfully, Sawyer had never warded his new room, so the door swings open easily, and Ridoc carefully deposits him on the edge of his bed, tossing the still-damp clothes in his laundry basket. 

Looking at the clock on his desk through bleary eyes, Sawyer can see that it’s sometime between ten and eleven. Ten thirty, maybe. A reasonable enough hour to go to sleep.

Ridoc should be going to bed soon, if he wants to get a decent amount of sleep before the standard six a.m. wakeup required of the cadets that hadn’t been permanently injured in the battle — everyone but Sawyer. 

He’s tired of being the exception. He should be out there training with them, not spending his days sleeping in an uncomfortable first-year bed.

Being back on the first floor for the third year in a row has broken him. 

Being in this room all day reminds him of his first first year, when he was one of the only cadets who hadn’t been chosen at Threshing, and thus couldn’t attend most of the classes that everyone else did — leaving him to spend the bigger half of six months entirely alone.

Every hour within these walls is another reminder of his failure. Death by a thousand cuts, or whatever they say. 

“Talk to me,” Ridoc says softly. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”

“I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice cracking. If Ridoc doesn’t leave soon, if he doesn’t stop looking at him like that, all soft and concerned, Sawyer is going to cry again. The first time was humiliating enough.

Ridoc keeps pushing, deciding yes-or-no questions might be less overwhelming. “Do you want to eat something?”

Sawyer shakes his head no quickly — he definitely doesn’t want food. Even the idea of eating is enough to turn his stomach. At least Ridoc hadn’t seen him puke. 

“Okay. You should probably get some sleep, then.”

Sleep is good. Sleep will numb the pain for a while, and he’s so tired… probably because he’s hardly eaten since he moved out of the infirmary and the healers stopped forcing him to choke down three meals a day. 

That had been torture. 

Sawyer nods, starting to shuffle back from his seat on the edge of the bed. The bed is unmade, as it has been for the last week and a half, so he’s able to scoot under the duvet easily, pulling it up over himself with minimal discomfort.

Ridoc helps him get settled, draping him with an extra blanket, because Sawyer’s skin is still cold to the touch. He quickly pulls his eyes away from the space where Sawyer’s other leg should be, that’s now just flat, only blankets laid over the mattress.

“If there’s anything you need, anything at all, have Sli tell Aotrom, okay?”

Sawyer nods again, the soft cotton of his pillowcase making a whispering sound under his cheek.

Ridoc straightens the books on Sawyer's desk, picking up a few dirty clothing items that Sawyer had dropped — damn tremors caused by that extra-strength pain tonic that he’d been using around the clock — and hadn’t been able to bend down to reach, or even to kick toward the laundry basket. So on the floor they’ve remained, all week — until now.

Sawyer feels a spike of cold move through his chest, his pulse jumping at the thought of Ridoc leaving, telling him goodnight and disappearing for another two weeks.

“Rid?” he asks in a small voice.

The other boy perks up at the sound of his friend speaking. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to sleep over?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment before Sawyer starts to take it back. “Obviously you don’t have to. I just thought it would be nice. The way it used to be, in Aretia.”

If Ridoc catches the panic in Sawyer’s voice, he doesn’t bring it up. “I thought you’d never admit it,” he says with a slow smile that Sawyer can hear, even with his eyes closed. “You miss me.”

It’s unclear if Sawyer can hear the thick guilt covered by Ridoc’s teasing. 

Of course he misses you, Ridoc thinks. You haven’t spoken to him in a week. He needed you, but he didn’t ask for help because he didn’t think you’d care. 

You’re a shitty friend.

“Should I steal some of Imogen’s black nail polish, or do you want to make popcorn and talk about cute boys?”

“Get the fuck out,” Sawyer snorts, and then regrets it immediately — What if Ridoc can’t tell that he’s joking? 

“Alright. GTFO-ing.”

Ridoc closes the door behind him quietly.

Sawyer squeezes his eyes shut, because he knows that if he opens them, the walls will start to press in on him. This room is the same size as the one he’d had in his parents’ home in Luceras, if not bigger, but after spending two weeks in it pretty much non-stop, it feels like a birdcage or a fish tank that he’d been shoved into.

That’s why he’d never warded the door. He already feels trapped here. If he becomes too weak to channel, he’d be trapped for real.

He hasn’t tried to use his signet, or any of the basic magic, since the battle. It’s unclear if he can, but Sli comes and goes in his mind, and that little red string had remained tied to his rib all through the surgery and his delirium afterward, never once fading or faltering, so he should still have access to it, but he might be too weak to do anything significant with it.

When he gets some of his energy back, he’ll try again. Maybe he can do something useful with it. They can park him in a chair and have him make weapons, more of the runed daggers. That way he’d be helping, instead of dragging everyone down. 

That’s exactly what he’d tried not to do, and look where it had landed him. 

Ridoc opens the door again after what’s probably fifteen minutes. He’s pajama-clad, his hair damp from the shower, with a pillow tucked under one arm and his duvet knotted around his shoulders like a cape.

“You came back,” Sawyer murmurs. He’s already half-asleep, his eyes closed and cheek smushed into his pillow. 

“Of course I did. It’s not every day that your adult male best friend asks you for a sleepover.”

Ridoc scoots the desk chair aside, making space for himself to lay down on the small rug there, untying the duvet-cape. 

Sawyer scoots himself over toward the other side of the bed, gritting his teeth. “The floor will fuck up your back. Get up here.”

“If you insist,” Ridoc replies with a grin. 

Sawyer would roll his eyes if it wasn’t such an effort to keep them open, about to jokingly retract his offer — only to wince at the feeling of the mattress shifting underneath him. 

Ridoc apologizes his way under the covers, trying not to jostle him too much. “I’d offer to rock-paper-scissors over who gets to be the little spoon, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

That gets a lazy laugh out of him, finally. 

Ridoc doesn’t think he’s seen Sawyer smile or laugh since before they left Aretia. They’d been in Battle Brief, and Ridoc had made a gods-awful pun around one of Brennan’s serious statements. It had nearly gotten the both of them kicked out of the auditorium from how hard they’d been laughing.

“Thank you for finding me,” Sawyer murmurs. “Probably would have died of hypothermia or something if you hadn’t.”

His hair is nearly dry now, the almost-ginger strands curling up in odd places. Ridoc reaches over to smooth a few of them down, but they spring back up after a few seconds. He keeps doing it anyway. 

“You can thank Sli for that, really. He told Aotrom to tell me that you needed help. He loves you, y’know. And he knows that none of this was your fault.” 

There’s a soft pause. “We all know that you’d be out there with us if you could. It isn’t the same without you, but until you’re healed and you can make yourself a super badass custom prosthetic and fly with us again, we’ll look out for each other. And I’ll help you with whatever you need — I’m really sorry for dropping the ball on that. I was a shitty friend, and there’s no excuse for it, really, but I’ll try my best to make it up to you.”

It’s a lot to process, and Sawyer is too tired to respond to all of it, but he’s able to sum it up in two mumbled words. “Love you.”

Ridoc smiles, moving his hand away from Sawyer’s hair. “I love you too, dude. Get some sleep.”

Later that night, when Sawyer rolls over and tucks himself into Ridoc’s arms, he doesn’t feel cold anymore, and the pain has dulled.

He decides that he wants pancakes for breakfast.

[mysticficti0n]

Hi B can you do something about if the TH boys were to walk-in while she was showering?? I feel it would be really funny

thank you ♥︎

BAHAHAHAHAHAH OMG YESSS

∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞　

Shower intrusion

warnings- swearing and thats about it

words- 990

Tom

Tom was sat round in the living room watching some stupid film on tv until the idea of going for a nice relaxing shower came to his mind, he knew Y/n was up stairs, he could hear her fucking music rattling off the walls so its perfect timing to go in and clean off whatever was on him from the day. He climbed up the stairs and saw his roommates door wide open with the speaker on 100 volume, he shook his head as he grabbed a towel from his dresser and walked to go to the bathroom, his hand twisted the door knob and he walked in and hot steamy air hit his face "TOM GET OUT!" a high pitched yell echoed on the tiled walls "FUCKING HELL Y/N!" he shouted back standing stunned as Y/n reached for the shower curtain to wrap around her body "well don't just fucking stare!" the girl growled seeing Tom's eyes widen with realisation to what he'd done- we all know where his little eyes drifted... "shit I'm sorry I thought you were in your room!" he argued looking to the ceiling trying to not think of her naked in front of him "I'll go now erm... enjoy?" Tom had never moved quicker in his life to leave the bathroom. Why was he such an idiot? Tom found himself sat back down on the sofa flicking through channels before a wet-haired Y/n came and stood before him- fully dressed in her Pj's may I add- he gave her a shy smile as she crossed her arms staring down at the slouched position he was in "bathrooms free now perv"

Bill

"I need to go take this bloody make-up off!" Bill groaned wiping his black eyes and seeing a huge dark smudge draw itself along his hand "ugh!" leaving the group down stairs he went to his room searching for the make-up wipes "come on where are they?" he pulled open every draw he owned swiping his hands over every surface he could reach but nothing Then he thought to check Y/n's room, she always had wipes stocked somewhere, he knocked the door and had no response, Bill opened the door slightly and saw a darkness filled room but a light shone from her bathroom, with a happy sigh he trudged in walking straight to the bathroom not noticing the sound of the taps being twisted off "Y/n I need some- OH FUCK I'M SORRY!" right in front of his eyes was a unsuspecting Y/n hurriedly wrapping her towel around her "why didn't you say something when you were walking in!" she laughed seeing the singer cover his eyes and spin back round "fucking idiot, you can turn around now" slowly Bill turned back to the girl seeing her fully covered with a clip holding her hair back "erm.. I need make-up wipes if you have any" his voice was quieter than before making Y/n chuckle and point to next to her sink "thanks and sorry... I don't know why I didn't thing you'd be in the shower" the boy quickly grabbed the wipes and ran back down stairs to fill in his bandmates about his encounter before wiping off his make-up

Georg

Georg was sweating like shit on a hot day after being outside helping set up the barbecue with Tom who couldn't seem to understand how to screw legs onto the main barbecue drum which oddly enough ended with a shoe mark stamped into it, with heavy steps he came up the stairs taking his shirt off and already unbuckling his belt his free hand pushing the bathroom door open as soon as the smell of vanilla and lavender filled his nose he regretted everything he did "shit sorry sorry!" he chanted walking back out closing his eyes making him close to smacking his head off the door "Jesus Georg you gave me a heart attack!" the girl called with a laugh, while the bassist stood with a thought fighting his way to the front of his mind, he opened the door slightly again and the scent of his shampoo washed over him "are you using my fucking almond shampoo?!" he yelled getting a suspicious 'no' from the girl "fucking hell Y/n out of everyone in this bloody house I didn't think you'd be nicking my shampoo! I wondered why it ran out so fast!" "look it makes your hair so shiny and smooth I was getting jealous!" Georg couldn't stop a laugh from leaving his lips "I'll buy you your own next time but don't use any more!" he warned walking to his own room to write a reminder 'get the shampoo stealer her own shampoo'

Gustav

"god my shoulders hurt so bad" the drummer grumbled rubbing the sore spot on his right side "ah- I need a shower, hot water helps" he spoke to the group sat with him as he turned to leave the room he thought he remembered Y/n saying she was going for a shower but surely she'd be out now? He made his way to the bathroom and pushed the door open and herd the small voice of Y/n singing a tune then "GUSTAV LEAVE!" the boy was brought back as he attempted to run out the room but it turned out to be more of a stumble as he smacked into the wall outside "SORRY Y/N!" he yelled slamming the door shut while slapping himself in the face trying to forget the image on Y/n with suds falling down her body, how long was he looking? "why does nobody in this goddamn house knock doors before they enter?" the girl shouted with a grunt making him laugh and her angriness, he'd make it up to her- maybe buying a door lock? "Gustav I know you're still outside" he snickered walking back down stairs with a red tint across his face "oopsie" he giggled

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (16)

A Holy Sight

At long last, Arianwyn returns to King’s Landing.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Emrys, Vermax, and Arrax were already saddled and waiting in the courtyard when Arianwyn, clad in her riding leathers, raced down the castle’s steps. Emrys immediately lurched forward to try and meet her, but the Dragonkeepers had long since learned their lesson and now had six monks holding his reins to keep him in place. He whined rather pitifully but perked up the moment Arianwyn laid a hand on his snout.

“Lentot jī, Emrys,” she whispered. “Jorrāelti gierȳti lua āmāzī.” We are going home, Emrys. We are going back to the people we love.

He whooped in response, crouching to allow her to mount more easily. She climbed into his saddle, fastening a satchel behind her. The majority of her belongings would be with Brynna and her guards on one of the ships leaving from Spicetown, but not this.

Not used to carrying any cargo beyond Arianwyn herself, Emrys tilted his head as he examined the small bag.

“Arlī mīsītsor, yno syt lo bē Dāro Vilinio māzissuty jonevīlun. Nūmia sepār landir sesīr,” she explained. The dragon looked from her to the bag, then back again, as if confused. “Vaogenkon rongondi jomīston āmāzīnna daor. Dāria yne tolī sȳrī gīmēdas.” Fresh clothes, for me to wear once we arrive. Jewels and shoes, too. I can’t make my return in dirty leather. The Queen taught me too well.

Emrys only huffed, and she imagined that if he could, he would roll his eyes.

The courtyard doors opened, and Rhaenyra and her family emerged. Arianwyn suppressed her smile and straightened her posture, refusing to look any of them in the eye. Though Jacaerys did try to catch her attention as he mounted. He’d been in a foul mood since dinner the night before. She didn’t have a single guess as to why, nor did she care to ask.

Once he and Lucerys were settled in their saddles, Rhaenyra approached, a sleeping young Viserys on her hip. She gave detailed instructions on how to get to King’s Landing and what they were to do from there, but Arianwyn did not listen. She did not even meet Rhaenyra’s gaze; instead, she focused on offering encouraging whispers to Emrys.

Why would she need instruction when she’d spent the last eight years dreaming of flying back?

Finally, Rhaenyra made her way toward the dock. She and Daemon would not fly to King’s Landing while she was heavily pregnant. Instead, they were to sail on the ship with their two young sons – Aegon and Viserys – and the servants and cargo.

Arianwyn was grateful for it. The last time she had flown across the Blackwater, Caraxes had nearly driven Emrys to madness for how close he followed. Today, they would fly free.

The sight of the shining red roofs of King’s Landing brought more comfort to Arianwyn than she had anticipated. How could simple tiles bring forth such a feeling of home?

While Vermax and Arrax dutifully flew straight for the Dragonpit, Arianwyn led Emrys in a wide circle before she landed, wanting to soak in as much of the city as possible before she was stuffed in a carriage with her stepbrothers. The sun was infinitely warmer than on Dragonstone, and while there was still the smell of salt coming off the sea, it was far more inviting than the fishy, wet brine she’d endured for so long.

The moment they landed, Emrys let out a joyful roar, overcome with excitement to finally be home. The Dragonkeepers never had the chance to take his reins, for as soon as Arianwyn dismounted, he scampered into the mouth of the Dragonpit, seeking his long-lost companions.

One of the young female Dragonkeepers allowed Arianwyn to use her room to change into her gown and stayed to help adjust the folds of the silk, straighten the braided silver and bronze chains of her necklace, and release the wind-blown tangles from her silver curls.

But when she finally climbed into the carriage, her stepbrothers were not impressed by her appearance.

“We’re going to be late because of you,” Jace complained, pounding the ceiling to signal their departure as he glared at her.

Arianwyn ran her eyes over his attire – a worn gray gambeson that made him look more like a squire than a prince. Luke wore the same. She shrugged and curled her lips in a saccharine smile. “At least I will look presentable when we reach the castle.”

He scoffed, “What do clothes matter? I am the future King, no matter what I wear.”

“What you wear can send a message,” Arianwyn replied, perhaps more curtly than was necessary. “For those of us who cannot speak so freely as a ‘future King,’ we must rely on more subtle methods to convey our opinions.”

“And what message does this dress send?” Jace asked with more venom than she’d heard before. He reveled in teasing her but had never truly sounded hateful toward her. Why did he do so now?

Luke repeatedly banged his forehead against the carriage window.

Perhaps Jace was angry because he understood the message she was trying to send and wanted her to say it aloud so he could have something to report to Daemon.

The elaborate, flowing gown was made entirely of the finest black and bronze silk brocade, with hundreds of tiny round beads made of blackened steel stitched into the bodice and sleeves, evoking the appearance of a set of pauldrons. Her jewels were entirely set in bronze, save for the single silver chain woven into her necklace – the same necklace Aemond had chosen for her on her thirteenth name day.

The ensemble practically screamed her message: I am not one of them.

But she could not say that. Not to Jace, who would immediately report what she said to Daemon. So she pursed her lips and gave a pretty lie, “It sends the message that I am a beautiful and civilized young woman. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Jace scoffed again and turned away from her, watching the pale stone of the city rush past them. For the rest of the ride to the docks, Arianwyn wore a self-satisfied smile, though she fiddled nervously with one of the stones on her necklace: a single, tear-shaped sapphire.

The mood in the carriage lightened significantly once Rhaena joined them. She was the only person who could ever create peace between Arianwyn and Jace.

She had not been permitted to bring Morning with her, as the long journey would have been difficult for the still-young hatchling. So, she talked ceaselessly about how much she missed the little pink creature, worrying that she would somehow miss all of his youth in the few days they would be gone. The others sympathized with her, and all tried to cheer her with stories of their dragons’ adolescence.

But silence fell once more when they rode into the courtyard of the Red Keep to find it all but empty. The king was not there to greet them, nor the queen, their children, or even any of the Small Council. Only Ser Steffon Darklyn was there to receive them.

“All hail Rhaenyra of House Targaryen,” he announced to no one but the regularly stationed guards and a handful of scattered servants, “Princess of Dragonstone and Heir to the Iron Throne, and her Royal Consort, Prince Daemon Targaryen.”

As she exited the carriage behind her siblings, Arianwyn watched the confusion on Rhaenyra and Daemon’s faces melt into anger. Obviously, the princess had been expecting something far more grand. Perhaps she expected it still, as she ordered the children into formation with a tilt of her chin.

Being his eldest child, Arianwyn should have been positioned just behind Daemon, with her younger half-sisters behind her. But she knew her true place. So she stood in the back, Rhaena and the two babes ahead of her.

But it did not bother her. Soon, she would be with her true family once more.

After long, awkward minutes of waiting in the chilly courtyard, the doors to the Red Keep finally opened. Only one man emerged, a lord that Arianwyn did not recognize. He approached Rhaenyra and gave a swift bow before taking her hands.

“Welcome back, Princess,” he said.

Rhaenyra stared back at him in disbelief. “Lord Caswell. Has something happened?”

They all glanced around the pitiful courtyard before Caswell answered. “I am afraid not, princess. Please, come with me.” He stood aside with a hand gesturing back toward the door. With a hefty sigh, Rhaenyra followed him into the Red Keep.

Arianwyn’s heart soared as she entered the familiar halls. Some things had changed, yes. New paintings and tapestries hung on the walls, and the Seven-Pointed Star had been carved above many thresholds. But still, it was home.

Lord Caswell brought them to a halt at the foot of the Grand Staircase. “Your petition shall be heard tomorrow, I am told,” he said. He leaned closer to Daemon and Rhaenyra, whispering something Arianwyn could not hear.

When he withdrew, Rhaenyra turned to her children. “Your father and I are to go see the king. We will meet you in our chambers later in the evening. But, for now, you have leave of the castle.”

Daemon stared directly at Arianwyn as he added, “I expect you will all behave yourselves and stay out of trouble.” She did not reply but held his gaze until he turned and went up the steps with Rhaenyra.

Rhaena ran off to find her sister. For a moment, Arianwyn did not know where to go. Her old rooms? The library?

But her choice was made when she heard Jace whisper to Luke. “Let’s go to the training yard. I want to see if that hole in the wall is still there.”

Of course, the training yard. Arianwyn’s heart skipped a beat as she shook off her shock at being in the Red Keep again. Where she wanted to go was not a place but a person. But the training yard would do for now.

For she knew that was where she would find Aemond.

It was difficult for her not to sprint down the hallways for her eagerness, but she kept her pace slow and herself far enough behind her stepbrothers that they did not notice her and eventually, their presence faded from her mind. A lightness spread through her body, and her fingers tingled ceaselessly until she clasped her hands together and squeezed.

Though it had been eight years since she had seen him, she still had letters from Aemond every day. He kept her appraised of everything that happened in the Red Keep so thoroughly that she sometimes felt as though she had never left. So why did she now find herself so nervous to see him?

She brushed off the question as she emerged into the light. Jace and Luke were already halfway down the stairs to the training yard proper while she continued straight on the rampart to the viewing platform where she and Helaena had always sat with their Septa and the King.

Her eyes were drawn downward when she heard the clanging of steel on steel, but she was left disappointed when she only found two identical men, whom she assumed to be the Cargyll brothers sparring. The yard was more crowded than she had ever seen, with dozens of lords and ladies gathering to watch the men practicing. Curious, she had rarely seen ladies below the ramparts before.

Before Arianwyn could consider it further, a flash of white caught her eyes. Her breath caught when she, at last, saw him.

Aemond.

Though he was turned away from her, she would know him even in darkness. But there he was, leaning over a display of weapons. In his letters, he had told Arianwyn that while he could hold his own with many different weapons, the simple longsword remained his favorite. Indeed, he forwent all the maces, hammers, and axes on the table before him and drew his sword from his belt.

Picking up a wooden shield, he stalked across the yard to meet Ser Criston, a crowd immediately gathering around them. Not wanting to lose sight of him, Arianwyn ran across the wall to get a better view.

Gods, he was truly a man now.

He stood several inches taller than Ser Criston, and though he was quite lean, an undeniable width to his shoulders revealed a great strength. But what most drew Arianwyn’s admiration was his face.

Beautiful was the only word Arianwyn could think of to describe him. The line of his jaw was severe, running parallel to the sharpness of his cheekbones. His nose was long and stately, and his lips seemed to hold a permanent mischievous grin. There was an intensity in his one eye, which was only amplified by the harshness of the scar that still ran across the left side of his face and the black leather patch covering where his eye had once been.

Arianwyn’s chest stung slightly not to see her sapphire, but it was quickly brushed aside when Aemond jumped up and down several times before crouching in an offensive position. Ser Criston mirrored the motion, and the fight began.

Cole moved first, swinging his morningstar at Aemond’s head. Arianwyn’s heart jumped as it came down, but Aemond had already moved, and the weapon crashed against his shield.

She hardly breathed watching them fight, at once terrified to see Aemond hurt and yet thrilled by the warrior he had become. He moved with the remarkable swiftness of a Dornish adder and the deadly grace of a Qohorik tiger. It was entrancing.

Arianwyn fought the urge to shout when Ser Criston once more brought his morningstar down on Aemond’s shield, shattering one side and forcing him down on one knee. But Aemond only tossed his shield out of the ring and rose, swinging his blade around the Kinsguard’s head twice.

When he feinted another swing, Cole fell for the bait, swinging wildly and throwing himself off balance just as Aemond spun out of the way and behind him. Cole was angry now, frustrated that he could not match his opponent’s speed. Aemond twirled his sword in a taunting flourish as the knight stalked around him, assessing his next move.

Cole struck left, and Aemond dodged. Cole followed the momentum of his heavy weapon and came back around to his right, but Aemond dodged again. Cole swung again and again, but each time, Aemond dodged him with ease.

When Cole began to shout as he raised his weapon to bring another wild swing down on the Prince, Aemond brought up his sword to meet it. The morningstar pulled Cole to the right, exposing his chest and neck. Aemond spun around him, keeping his good eye on his opponent, and brought the tip of his blade against Ser Criston’s neck.

Arianwyn shivered as an unfamiliar feeling swept through her and settled low in her stomach. It was nearly like the rush she felt whenever Emrys took a steep dive, but somehow different. After taking a moment to collect herself, she joined in on the applause.

Ser Criston dropped his morningstar and began to clap too, murmuring something Arianwyn could not hear atop the wall. Nor could she hear Aemond’s response as he lowered his sword back to his side and faced his nephews.

A shout came to open the gates, drawing the attention of all in the yard – except Aemond and Arianwyn. Neither noticed as Vaemond Velaryon strode in, surrounded by bannermen, giving a withering look to Lucerys as he passed. Aemond did not even notice the servant approaching to offer him a new shield.

For he had turned to look up at the wall, and there he found her.

As Aemond gazed upon Arianwyn for the first time in years, he thought that, surely, no other man had ever felt such joy. When she looked down on him from the rampart and blessed him with her glorious smile, he was certain of it.

He was a drowning man at last breaching the surface and taking a life-giving gulp of air. He was a man dying of thirst at last feeling the sweet taste of water upon his lips. He was a man whose heart had been bleeding for years without ceasing, healed in an instant simply by the holy sight of the woman he loved.

When he had first heard that Rhaenyra and the rest were coming to King’s Landing, he had not allowed himself to hope that Arianwyn would be with them. For if he had, and she were left alone on Dragonstone, he would not have been able to stop himself from flying to her rescue.

But thank the gods, he did not have to. She was here. She was safe. And she was perfect.

Her beauty far surpassed anything Aemond had been able to imagine. Her curling white hair fell in a wild, wonderful cascade down her back. Her plump cheeks and full lips were the deep, enticing pink of the finest Tyrell roses. And her eyes were as bright as polished silver, sparkling with their characteristic gleam.

Aemond brushed aside a servant who had approached him and ignored Cole’s attempts to begin another round of sparring entirely. Sliding his sword back into its sheath, he pushed through the gathered crowds toward the stairs. Seeing him approach, Arianwyn ran across the ramparts to meet him.

Even as he came to a halt a step below her, Aemond stood at least a head taller. He did not say anything as he faced her, breath heavy from both his fight and his rush up the steps. Then, lowering his eyes to her neck and her jeweled chain, he reached out a hand as if to grab it but stopped mere inches from her skin.

What if she wasn’t really here? He had imagined her beside him so often. What if this was just another illusion? What if he tried to touch her and only felt cold air?

“Aemond…” she whispered, for only him to hear.

Gods, he wanted her to be real. He wanted to kiss her. To take her in his arms and carry her to the Sept and wed her without hesitation. But he could not do that. He could not even move for the intensity of the hope and elation racing through his veins.

But he did not have to. Swifter than he could realize, Arianwyn threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as she pressed her cheek to his. Real. She was real, and she was here.

Slowly, as his body remembered how, he brought his trembling arms around her, at last running his fingers through her silver curls. It took all his strength to remain standing.

“Aemond,” she whispered again, her breath warming his ear. “Aemond, I’m finally home.”

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

heyyy i know this is weird but i need some creeps angst in my life so could you write the general creeps finding you dead?

thank youuuu i love your writing sm!!

You know honestly me too. I live for creeps angst/angst in general so I’m happy to give it to you! Angst writing is actually strangely comforting to me too.

THE CREEPS FINDING YOU DEAD

JEFF THE KILLER

Finding you dead wasn’t on Jeff’s bucket list at all. It hadn’t crossed his mind that he could come home one day to find you slaughtered just like he did today. Your blood ran through the grooves in the tiled kitchen floor as he stood above you.

Jeff had felt rage before, but nothing like this. Nothing so burning, nothing so strong. He knew he was hated, but that had nothing to do with you. Nothing.

He stormed out of the house, going house by house, neighborhood by neighborhood. Murdering, killing, slaughtering, torturing. One by one. Person by person. Each time leaving at least one alive to witness, to feel the immense pain that he did. The agony of losing the one you loved.

All of this was for you. A final way to show his love.

“TICCI” TOBY

Coming home late from missions was a common occurrence. He often found you curled up in your blankets sound asleep. And honestly he couldn’t tell the difference until he took his place next to you in bed. He felt something wet against his neck, feeling around further to find a majority of the bed to be just as wet. Toby quickly turned on the light, turning to find your blood staining the sheets.

“N-no! Y/N fuck!-“ He tried doing CPR like EJ had taught him. But his mind was running a million miles an hour and the cracking of your ribs as he tried the compressions quickly deterred him.

Toby felt his heart shatter as he realized this was it… You were gone and there was no way to save you…

He turned from your lifeless body, clutching his head and breathing heavy. He felt like he was dying too. His chest tightening and his hands shaking. He felt tears running down his face as he fell to his knees, rocking back and forth while trying to calm down.

“No- n-n-no- no-“ was all he could repeat to himself as he tried his hardest to self soothe.

TIM/MASKY

“Honey I’m home!” He called as he shut the front door. Tim had just come home from getting the groceries you asked for. You had told the creeps that you’d make dinner tonight if they felt like coming over.

When no response came he felt a wave of worry rush over him. He swiftly dropped the plastic bags of groceries and began looking through the first floor of your shared house. He climbed the carpeted stairs with heavy anxious steps from his hefty work boots, pushing open your bedroom door he found you. You lay out on your large bed, your dress soiled in crimson blood. He didn’t even dare enter the room, he couldn’t.

His body was frozen in place as he stared… He felt his hands tremble as he looked you over from afar. Your skin had gone pale, your chest unmoving… Every part of him wanted to lose it. He wanted to scream, yell, break down and cry, smash everything in sight. But his body remained frozen. Even through the whirlwind of emotions going through his head he stood still. All he could do was stand and stare.

It felt like seconds but hours had long passed and he felt a hand on his shoulder. Only then did he slowly turn his head to see Jeff. He had never seen him look so somber.

“Let’s go man… They’re gone…”

BRIAN/HOODIE

You’d been on a mission together, get equipment from the hospital nearby and get out. It had seemed like an easy job, you both walked into it with full confidence. But running out in your partners arms, you didn’t feel confident at all.

Your side burned from the bullet lodged deep in you. Holding back tears was a battle you couldn’t win as you writhed in pain in Hoodie’s arms. Only when he deemed you two were far enough away did he let you down, laying you gently on the grass. The bleeding was worse than he had first thought. He watched as your movements slowed, your eyes fluttering. The masked man worked quickly to try to stop the vicious bleeding. Applying heavy pressure against your wound, barely whispering words of assurances as he tried his best to keep you alive.

He was glad his mask was on because underneath it all he was freaking out. His gaze was crazed, his eyebrows upturned in worry as his gloves soaked up your warm blood. It wasn’t long before your chest fell one final time and your heart stopped beating.

His hands shook as he pulled them away, rising from the ground and running as fast as his legs would carry him.

EYELESS JACK

As soon as he heard your heart stop beating from the other room he went running. Scrambling to get to you, to save you. He started compressions immediately, hands precise as he worked to bring you back. He knew you were seriously ill, he had been doing everything he could to heal you, to make you better. He didn’t realize all he had done was prolong your pain.

If he knew it was this bad he would’ve made you as comfortable as he could. He would’ve let you go…

Right..?

He was selfless enough to let you go wasn’t he? He wouldn’t keep you around selfishly…?

He worked for close to fifteen minutes, working up a sweat. Hoping, praying that you’d open your pretty eyes to him. His chest sunk when he realized there was no hope for bringing you back. Taking off his mask, Jack climbed into bed and curled into you. The demon stayed next to you, inhaling your sent until your warmth had disappeared. Even after you’d gone cold he stayed. He growled when anyone dared take a step into the room, snapping when anyone even got close.

Only on his terms would he prepare you for a funeral.

[emeritusemeritus]

No Good Deeds [George Weasley x Reader]

Part 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Pairing: {George Weasley x Reader} mentions of previous Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: Set a few years after DH, loosely following Canon.

Summary: A few years after Fred’s death, the investors of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes demand changes to the name. All it would take is two years of a fake marriage to fix the issues, but no good deed goes unpunished.

Warnings: Fake marriage trope because we love the cliché. Mentions of death (Fred). Friends to lovers. Slow burn but mentions of kissing and eventual smut. Swearing. George calls us Angel. Drinking. SMUT. The smut has arrived! P in V, oral (both). Angst, sadness, grief. Tags will be updated with each chapter. Not Beta-read or spell checked.

Honeymoon smut part 2🌹

Trying to push aside your droning inner monologue, you undressed into the bikini you'd bought with you, checking yourself over in the mirror. Sure enough, you had faint bruises on your upper thigh and a rather suspicious purple mark forming beside your right breast, right where George had focused his attention only hours ago. The very notion would have brought butterflies to your tummy only hours prior but now you felt overwhelmingly uncomfortable; a giant ball of shame, guilt and sadness. You knew you needed to talk to George, to figure everything out but that alone was frightening; what if you ruined everything?

You just needed to try and enjoy yourself, slap a smile on and not make it awkward for the rest of your stay, preferably without sex complicating matters. Easier said than done, especially when you spotted George in his swimming trunks, his naked, muscular and slightly freckled back on display for you.

You stepped out onto the decking with a big fluffy towel wrapped around you to block the chill in the air, watching as the steam from the hot tub rose in spirals before disappearing into the air. The sun was almost completely gone now, the very last rays of sun mixing with the outdoor lights to illuminate the deck.

"Okay we have beer, wine and some premixed cocktails, ladies choice," George says, pointing to the table where he'd laid out options for you both.

"Cocktails, always," you smile, pulling off the towel and placing it onto one of the chairs as he pours the drinks into plastic cups, pouring himself a bottle of daisyroot draught he must have brought with you. You pull the hair bobble off your wrist and tie your hair into a messy bun on your head to keep it from getting wet and thank George when he hands you the glass of premixed drink. You don't miss the way his eyes gaze over your body as he hands you the drink, his eyes washing over your partially exposed form as if he'd never seen it before.

"Ladies first?" He smirks, gesturing for you to go ahead of him, after checking the temperature with his hands. He offers his hand out to you for you to take hold of as you climb into the sunken tub, the water tingling your skin at the contrast of temperatures, feeling your whole body warming up as you sink further and further in. You can almost physically feel George's gaze on you, watching you in your bikini as you slink down into the water.

He hands you your drink as you sink down completely, the water level resting just above your breasts, leaving your shoulders exposed to the chill of the air, a rather pleasant mix. He climbs in after and sits down on one of the built in tiled benches on the other side of the tub and visibly relaxes as he does so, head resting on the side of the tub with his eyes closed.

You try not to, but you can't help but look at his muscular shoulders and arms, the column of his stretched throat and the two little moles you can see on the side of his neck; all of those things distinctly George Weasley.

There's a comfortable silence that falls between you both as you each relax in the warm water, alternating between closing your eyes to relax and trying to peak up at the dark trees, watching them sway in the breeze way up high. George refills your drink when it empties and for the second round, you sip your sweet cocktail slowly, using it as another mechanism to relax and also for Dutch courage as you think of the conversation you needed to have with George, the knowledge of it mentally tugging at you, making you less and less relaxed.

"This is the life," George says, still with his eyes closed but now with a smile across his features. Honestly you thought he'd fallen asleep, you were certain it was the longest you'd ever seen him be still in his life.

"Oh yeah," you reply, a little nonchalantly, not really paying attention.

"Another drink?" He asks, pulling your attention away from the trees. You looked down at the cup in your hand and noticed it was empty, apparently you hadn't been sipping it as slowly as you'd thought.

"I'll get them, getting a bit hot anyway," you say with a smile, suddenly glad to get away, procrastinating once again regarding the conversation.

He groans as you get out of the hot tub and when you turn with a questioning glance, he's resting his head against the side of the tub again, a smirk on his face though his eyes are open and fixed on you. He's turned down the jets on the hottub so that it's just a dull hum now, with the water still bubbling but without the noise and power of before.

"You're trying to kill me aren't you?" He mumbles, shifting closer until he's resting on his crossed arms in front of you. You look at his questioningly as you pour the next round of drinks, somewhat thankful for the chill in the air to cool you down as you look at the look that George was giving you.

"The little bikini," he says with a nod, "dripping wet... you're like every man's wet dream."

"Shove off," you say quickly with a roll of your eyes, though you're helpless to stop smiling and giggling a little at his words as you hand him his drink.

"I'm serious," he says, grabbing the drink from you and placing it onto the deck beside the tub. You slip back in to the hot tub, accepting George's outstretched hand but as soon as you'd placed your drink down, he pulls you onto his lap, an effortless move in the water that makes you higher than you had been before, the cold biting at your freshly exposed cleavage and back.

"You're so beautiful," he says, pushing back a few strands of hair that had fallen out of your messy bun, tucking them behind your ear. His hands are warm and wet from the water but you don't care, you're entirely transfixed on the look in his eyes.

He leans forward to press a kiss to your lips and you don't resist, your personal resolutions already broken and forgotten about as you get swept away by him all over again.

When he pulls back, you can only stare, breathless and rendered speechless by the way he's looking at you. His gaze slips over you as you sit in his lap, slowly and precisely as if he's commuting the view to memory before something catches his eye.

You feel a warm hand gently touching the right side of your breast, where the bikini ends and your skin begins, exactly where you knew the gift of a love bite sat.

A few beats pass, a pregnant pause between him looking away from the mark and up to your eyes, his own eyes conveying so much emotion that it's overwhelming, though you can't look away, enamoured by the love and desire in his eyes.

It takes all of three seconds before he reaches down and pulls your bikini to the side, completely exposing your breast to him, lovebite and all as your nipple pebbles from the sudden cold air surrounding it. It takes even fewer seconds before his mouth latches on to your nipple, tongue stroking over the hardened peak as his other hand slips to your other breast, toying with the nipple through the bikini before he pulls that to one side too. His mouth flicks between breasts as he devours you, your hands gripping his hair as he feasts on each breast, ravaging you with his tongue and lips, his tongue gently licking over the mark he'd left before and no doubt adding a few matching sets to your growing collection.

"God I love these tits," he says, face completely pressed into the curve of your breasts so much that the words are mumbled. "So perfect, so beautiful."

At least, you think that's what he says, his mouth never leaving your soft skin.

You can't help but rock your hips on his as you moan deeply and breathily at his actions, your breasts feeling more than sensitive as your arousal peaks. Your hips grind down onto his and it leaves you with no doubt of his own arousal, the long, thick erection rubbing perfectly against your heat, through the thin material of your swim clothes.

He groans at the contact, holding you tighter to him as you rock your hips with vigour, unashamedly rubbing yourself on him to create the most delicious friction you needed. His lips pull away from your oversensitive breasts as he leans up to kiss your lips once again, though this time it's without sweetness or hesitation.

"Can I fuck you here baby?" He says, voice so dangerously low and husky that it causes you to rock against him involuntarily, your mind spinning. "All I'd have to do is pull down my shorts and slip this little bikini out of the way."

His voice is still lower than usual but it's now filled with a sense of teasing as his hand wanders across your bum, around your thigh and down to your heat, fingers stroking over your centre through the thin material of the bikini. His fingers hook into the crotch of your bikini bottoms, absently grazing over your outer lips as he pulls the fabric away from your pussy just slightly to highlight his point. You gasp at the sensation, the water running freely over your exposed pussy, the closeness of his cock and his wandering fingers which tease you in feather light touches everywhere except exactly where you need him.

It's delicious agony, to have him so close but so far away and once again you're powerless to stop your hips rocking, as if your body is chasing his touch. He chuckles into your shoulder where his mouth occupies as your desperate movements and finally grants you reprieve, stroking his fingers across your lips, parting them with his middle finger and slide across your sensitive pussy, stroking a line from your entrance to your clit, just as he knew you liked. When his fingers makes contact with your sensitive bud you gasp out his name, hips rocking and chest heaving, already desperate for more.

Taking matters into your own hand, both literally and figuratively, you reach down to cup the rather obvious bulge in his shorts, visible even under the surface of the bubbling water. He groans at the contact and as you reach into the waistband of his shorts, he offers no resistance, lifting his hips enough for you to slip his shorts down. You reach down and grab his cock in your hand, stroking it with teasingly light touches before wrapping your hand around his shaft and dragging your hand deliciously slowly up the entire length of him. He groans and lifts his hips again, trying to work your hand against him. Your speed increases with every groan and moan that falls from his lips and in return, his fingers slip deeper into your bikini bottoms until his fingers slip inside you.

It's a complete rush of lust, with hands and lips attending each other's bodies like they were the only salvation. He slips inside of you as you ride his narrow hips, hands desperately clutching his shoulders as he gives you kiss after kiss as you ride out each other's  pleasure. It's frantic and desperate, the teasing having been drawn out far too long. You change positions until he's fucking you hard from behind, your naked bodies hardly submerged in the water anymore as you're bent over the side of the hot tub. He cums with a roar, pulling out of you and spilling into your waiting mouth, with droplets of cum splattering across your chest as you swallow him down as quickly as you can. His fingers immediately begin circling your clit only moments after his release and in no time at all, fuelled by the sheer filthiness of his orgasm, you're cumming around his skilled fingers.

You're both breathless and panting as you fight to steady your pounding heart rate, so overwhelmed by the sensation you'd been swept up in. The lust and passion between you both was almost electric, seemingly overtaking you and consuming your senses completely from just a spark.

You sipped your cocktail slowly as you climbed out of the hot tub on somewhat shaky legs, throwing the large towel around you and discreetly wiping off any remaining evidence of George's pleasure from your chest.

"So now we know the tub works, in more ways than one," George says from behind you, closing the lid on the no longer bubbling tub. You can hear the slink smirk in his voice and have to push down your own smile as you take another sip of the fruity concoction. "I'm thinking I cook us some food, we open that bottle of wine and play a dangerously intense game of exploding snap. Whatd'ya think sweetheart?"

You froze instantly at the name, your entire body pausing as you fight not to choke on your drink, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and swallow slowly. George had never called you sweetheart. The only person that had ever called you sweetheart was Fred. It was his nickname for you, the sickly sweet pet name that he'd used tirelessly over the years, starting as a teasing moniker in your early days before it became a habit that had lasted until his death. Fred called you sweetheart, no one else.

Hearing it for the first time since his death was too much for you, especially it falling from the lips of his twin brother. They'd never been identical to you, not really, but to hear it said in the same way, from a near identical voice made a chill run through you and your stomach lurch uncomfortably. You wanted to push it down, forget it happened and move on with your evening as if nothing had happened but it was physically impossible, tears already building in your eyes. Your fight or flights instinct was strong, the overwhelming urge to get yourself away from the situation, to hide away and accept that the tears were coming regardless of your effort to keep them at bay.

George noticed his faux pas immediately. He quietly whispered your name, trying to reach out for your shoulder but you'd already lurched away and began to slip into the cabin away from him before his hand could even make contact. You walked to the bathroom in a panic, suddenly feeling more ashamed of yourself than ever. You had been Fred's sweetheart once, could you ever be George's? You were used to Angel, his nickname for you for years and since your whole engagement fiasco he'd taken to teasing you through little pet names and endearments but never once had he overstepped and said that to you. You felt dirty, your body still tingling from your coupling with George, the taste of his cum in your mouth and your bikini barely hanging on to your body all whilst he called you his twin brother's nickname for you. It all felt so fundamentally wrong, so why did it actually feel so right in the moment?

You huffed out a sigh after fixing your bikini, gripping onto the sink in front of you as you stared at yourself in the mirror, the last remnants of spoiled mascara littering your cheeks and red-rimmed eyes that had once been so vividly happy.

A knock at the door startled you, even though you'd been expecting it since you'd dramatically exited.

"Angel? Please talk to me, I'm so sorry," George's voice says quietly through the door. You reach for the flannel beside the sink and dab at your eyes before opening the door, revealing George on the other side, his eyes full of apologetic sadness.

"No, it's okay," you protest weakly, not wanting him to feel bad about his accidental slip up. "I overreacted it was just... a lot."

"I understand," he says, nodding his head gently. He slowly reaches his hand out to you but he's hesitant, knowing there's a chance you'll deny him but you don't. You accept his hand and let him gently pull you into his body, through the door onto his side.

His skin smells of chlorine and sex, a strangely inviting blend of scents that you'll forever remember as George is this moment.

"I'm not trying to replace him," he says gently, his words soft but resolved, as if he'd practiced the line over in his head before saying it out loud. "I didn't mean to."

"I know," you say, pulling away gently enough to look up at him with a semi-forced smile on your face, your mind still whirling with sadness after the incident. "I know it was an accident, that you didn't mean... it was just hard hearing it from you and not him," you explain.

"You need some time?" He questions, hands rubbing up and down your arms lightly but there's something in his voice this time that makes you want to say no, feeling suddenly and overwhelmingly like a burden to him. You shake your head.

"I'm good."

"Good," he says with a small smile that fades a little too quickly, making you frown slightly.

"I'll go start tea," he says with a nod of his head, his hands slipping away from your skin as he walks out of the wood panelled hallway until you hear a few bangs from the kitchen as he pulls out pots and pans, leaving you alone and more than a little confused at his sudden change of behaviour.

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[saucyjothoughts]

could you write something about jance in Paris mirror hotel room please ❤️‍🩹? I can't stop thinking about it from time to time since Jan posted that photo

(photo IG:janpeteh)

If I didn't have to be a semi-functioning member of society this would be a 12k fic.

(nsfw under the cut)

"Now?"

His response was just a grunt.

"But they're going to bring our food up soon," Jan warns.

"Don't care."

It's been such a lovely day. One of Jan's favourite days, if he's being honest with himself. In the ascent of one of the most exciting episodes of his life, not only musically and in terms of career success, but finally being able to travel and spend every day with his band. And having Nace in his life, of course. The secret that no one keeps; nobody knows (except everyone knows). It's just a friendship, but no one is surprised when they want to spend the day alone together; sweet treats and the Louvre and guitar shopping in the City of Love. When they want to stay in a different hotel to the rest of the band and crew. When they want to share a room.

"What if we get interrupted?" Jan can feel Nace's hands slip under his shirt, his teeth nibbling on the tender skin of his neck, his erection pressing against him through their clothes.

The plan was to eat and hang out after their day sight-seeing (the Mama Shelter has its own very fancy bar and restaurant but isn't room service so much cosier? And privacy is so hard to come by these days) but Nace seems to have other ideas.

"Then they'll be jealous."

Nace is already trying to undress him. It's a game they've been playing for a while now; pushing each others buttons, taking turns to tease and seduce, giving and taking power over each other, playing chicken. But in the end, they always want the same thing.

Some alone time had been Jan's idea but Nace had booked the room. The place feels kind of industrial, with stripped-back walls and a view of the skyline. It has it's own wet room - tiled shower with fancy soaps - and the decor is minimal, featuring two big mirrors on opposing walls, delivering an infinite view of... Did Nace book this room on purpose? He's getting brave.

It certainly seems to be doing something for him. He's being rough, doing his best not to leave any bite marks where they might show, and Jan lets his lungs fill with his lover's smell, something inside of him melting at the wet, hungry noises Nace is making. He lets himself be manhandled, lets his bag be discarded to the floor, lets his shirt be torn away and thrown over the back of a chair. Nace dips to pick him up, wrapping his arms just under his butt as though he weighs nothing (God, does it send shivers through Jan's bones when he does this) and tosses him onto the bed where he lands on his back and Nace can climb on after him to strip him of his socks, of his trousers, of his boxers.

He's fully exposed, tender and pink on the clean white sheets while Nace is still dressed above him. There's something about being so comparatively vulnerable that makes his cock give away his arousal, and that only spurs Nace on more. His erection must be aching in his pants by now but he ignores it, all attention on Jan's body, smoothing his hands across his chest and over his tummy hair, appreciating every inch of his body until Nace's kiss is climbing up his inner thigh.

Jan's hips writhe of their own accord, anticipating. He loves this man so fucking much. His knees lift, and Nace explores and they both realise at the same time that Jan's hole is still slippery from their play this morning, when Nace's finger skips its usually teasing to push inside with almost no resistance. This morning, they had to be quiet. But... did he remember Nace saying something about this room being soundproof? Moans fall from him, Nace's fingers playing with his ass and his mouth sucking at his balls, and he clenches his asshole around Nace's knuckle to express his pleasure, hoping he'll lose his patience.

It works.

Nace crawls up his body, kissing his way up, until he's hovering over Jan's naked form.

"You want it?" he teases.

Between them, Nace's arm is reaching down to grab the length of his own cock through his pants.

Jan wants it. He wants it bad.

"You know I do."

He pulls at Nace's hair while he unzips, shuffling his pants down just far enough to let his cock spring out. The tip is already wet, red and yearning.

"I just like to hear you say it."

So Jan says it. He tells him how badly he wants it, how badly he wants to feel Nace's cock deep inside him. How his body needs to be stretched and used and filled as urgent and vicious as Nace can give it to him. He's wanted it all day, wanted him, always him, only him.

And now that fat cock is slipping between his cheeks, Nace using his hand to guide himself towards Jan's yearning little hole.

"Need you now," he mumbles, raspy with arousal and dripping with need.

And there's something animal behind Nace's eyes when he pushes with his hips, taking, claiming, and feeling Jan gasp as he stretches around his cock, violating that intimate warmth.

He's slow at first, adjusting, not quite lubricated enough to comfortably do this for long. But Jan will savour every moment of Nace's weight over him, his hot breath against his neck, those beautiful brown eyes drinking in the sight of him.

"Want-" Jan's body has the air pushed out of him over and over as he's getting fucked, "to- see- you."

He thrusts a steady rhythm, pressing Jan's leaking cock between their bodies and pushing him down into the mattress. Jan can feel him deep, again and again and again.

He's still fully dressed, his clothes rough against Jan's bare skin.

Nace slows at this, mouth hanging open as the words register. He lands something resembling a kiss on Jan's lips before sitting up to take his shirt off.

Jan follows, shuffling in a way that makes Nace slip out of him with an unholy noise. He's on his knees, helping his not-very-secret-boyfriend pull his shirt up over his head.

That's when he remembers the mirrors.

He looks to one, the perfect view of himself and Nace, both on their knees on the crumpled white hotel sheets, facing each other, arms looking surprisingly gentle and affectionate despite the roughness of their activities.

He looks to the other, the same scene from the other side. And between them, the same reflections stretching back forever, endless.

He caresses Nace's hair, and an infinite number of Jans caress an infinite number of Naces.

"We look good together," Nace says.

"Yeah," Jan agrees. "We really do."

He slips out of his trousers and returns to his position, both of them completely naked now in each others arms. Their skin is blushed red, hairy and muscular, just beginning to sweat, soft and sensitive under each other's touch.

In infinite number of Jans and Naces kiss on the lips, strong and slow, with tongue. An infinite number of Jans squeeze their Naces butts to pull him towards them. And infinite number of Naces reach of their Jan's cocks and listen to the whimpers that come from him at the pleasure of their touch. A Jan and a Nace gasp and moan that they love each other and their words echo, infinitely.

There's a knock on the hotel room door.

Room service.

[ninjigma]

QuinFox Week Part 4/7 - First / Previous / Next

Day 4: Keeping the Other Alive + Fox find's Quin's Lightsaber Track: 'Escape From East Berlin' - Daniel Pemberton (Spotify / YouTube)

"You have to stay with me Vos, come on!"

He really was trying, promise.

"I know, just... focus on keeping up. I'll do the rest, okay?"

Quinlan took a slow breath, focusing on just putting one fast-paced foot in front of the other. His awareness was muted in his attempt to mask his pain, and at this point, all the energy he had was being expended in keeping ahead of whatever droids were left on their tail.

Suddenly he was being hauled up and forward, aware of the ladder only when its rungs were suddenly beneath his hands.

"Up!" Fox barked, shots ringing out after his words. 

Quinlan obeyed the sharp order without hesitation. He was around three floors up when his awareness flared and he wrenched backward, a hand flailing wildly as he lost his hold on the wet durasteel. A new slew of blaster fire came from the end of the alleyway, backup arriving and causing further chaos. Moving purely on instinct he reached for where his saber was clipped to his belt-

And found nothing.

The sound of his saber igniting drew his gaze downward, the green flashing and lighting up across the red of Fox's armor. The clone must have picked it up earlier when Quinlan had nearly collapsed, no time to do much more than grab the saber in one hand and pull Quinlan back to his feet with the other. Now Fox was moving with deadly accuracy, cloak fanning out around him, and Quinlan noted how even without Force sensitivity Fox was plenty skilled with the blade. He was precise and sly in his movements, expertly incorporating the blaster to dispatch another droid with a bullseye to the head, the sight inspiring some rather unique feelings in the base of Quinlan’s stomach.

"I said up Vos!"

Right, he was supposed to be climbing. Without another thought he continued moving, easily trusting Fox to cover him. That simple piece of knowledge that Fox was with him was enough to assure him they had a chance in all of this mess, was enough to motivate him forward.

He made it to the roof without further incident, slipping over the edge and sliding across the wet surface. The way it momentarily muffled the sound of the alleyway and how the rain thrummed against Quinlan's skin brought the Jedi a moment's respite, a second of clarity in the fog where he tried to parse out what they needed to do next.

He wasn't dead, not yet anyhow. But now they were on a rooftop and rather exposed to any air support the Separatists may have in the area. They needed cover, Quinlan needed medical attention, and most of all they had to get back to the ship and out of this damned sector.

All too soon Fox was joining him, Quinlan only having a few moments to breathe before Fox had grabbed his hand and yanked them both across slick metal and tile. Fox was still holding his saber, playing their escape purely on the defensive, and Quinlan was again truly impressed with how well Fox was handling the blade, continuous sweeps that blocked blaster bolts out of the sheer speed of the weapon's arc. 

Though Quinlan knew this wouldn't last long. Already he could see the end of the street coming up with a gap they definitely couldn't jump across. Fox had been guiding them as best he could, but they would be stuck with nowhere to go now, and would end up surrounded and outnumbered in seconds. They wouldn’t last long.

Unless...

Fox had begun to slow, head whipping around in search of some way out of this besides fighting straight back through the droids. Thus he was a bit surprised when Quinlan somehow found an extra burst of speed and began pulling Fox along after him instead.

Fox wasn’t dying like this, for something Quinlan had done, not while he was still drawing air.

"General?!" Quinlan managed a rather unhinged smile at the surprise in Fox's tone, though the commander followed without any other complaint. If anything he sped up, keeping pace directly toward the edge of the building, even when it became clear that was exactly what Quinlan was aiming for.

Trust me.

It may have been a trick of his mind, his single focus on getting them both out of this alive, but Quinlan could swear Fox squeezed his hand before leaping off that roof with him.

Always.

The feeling of free falling wasn’t unknown to Quinlan, but the struggle not to succumb to dizziness as he stretched out a hand and slowed them was an interesting first. He gave all of his attention to the presence of Fox, adding it to his own awareness and willing the Force up to meet them. In a rather graceless move the Force answered, just before they reached the street, and they were suspended perfectly in the air a moment before falling the last foot to safety. 

Quinlan staggered, would’ve fallen if not for Fox immediately tucking into his side and pushing them ever onward. Now the Jedi really was stumbling, his energy burning up faster than he could think.

Then they were stopped, hands were on his shoulders. Black spots dotted his vision, but things were quiet finally and Quinlan could swear he wasn’t standing any longer. All that really mattered was how he could still sense Fox, reaching out and focusing on that steady and clever soul in order to find the motivation to keep moving. 

Well, they must be safe if Fox had stopped them, had begun pressing something against where Quinlan knew his shoulder should hurt but only felt the dull sensation of Fox’s hands.

He always thought Fox had nice hands, strong and sleek with a small scar on his right palm.

Maybe Fox would let him kiss it, just once.

“Don’t- Quinlan!”

[da-shrimping-station]

Mammon and Beelzebub bond through parkour

I will die on this hill.

Imagine them trying it out for the first time. Lots of fumbling, missteps, and failed jumps. But they're sturdy! If they bungle a fall they got wings!

And it's so fun for them because you can't do parkour in the Celestial Realm! The walls and structures are smooth and perfect, no handholds or footholds. Ledges so polished, it's hard to get a good grip on it. The buildings are far too stretched out there's no choice but to rely on their wings to cross. The best they can do is to run laps around the fields or fly. Not to mention they're angels and they gotta behave.

But in the Devildom and now that they're demons? Oh hell the fuck yes they can be gremlins climbing and jumping all over.

The buildings there are a mishmash of different styles and eras. From brick and wood houses from bygone days to sleek and modern homes. Traditional looking taverns and izakayas on the same street as concrete and glass office buildings. An old tavern on the outside but is a modern cafe on the inside.

Both boys are over the moon from all the variety. Running on cobblestones that become asphalt in the next turn. Climbing up a house's brick wall to jump to the adjacent building's fire escape railings. Messing up tiled roofs and denting antennas. Tripping alarms (both mechanical and magical) as they go through a window. Using their wings for an extra oomph to make the jump. Stopping by a fast food place mid run because the smell was too irresistible then going back at it after a short break. Sometimes they'd be in a goofy mood and race each other from point A to point B. "Hey hey race ya to that funny lookin statue!"

It's not without property damages and injuries of course.

Beelzebub landed too hard on someone's roof because he jumped from a place too high.

Mammon breaking a pole after using it as some sort of springboard.

Bumping into the demons who occupy/work at the places they're parkouring at.

Leaving claws marks on surfaces because they needed a more secure and better grip.

Sprains and scrapes because they went too fast and wasn't able to control their momentum.

Being covered in dirt or dripping wet from failing stunts.

The House of Lamentation gets a stream of complaint letters attached with pictures and quotes of the damages. Both have so much fun with it that Lucifer is willing to put up with the complaints.

They'd come home all sweaty but smiling, talking about their run in excited voices and eager to try a new route or a new stunt.

[strangersteddierthings]

Are you interested in writing something billy is still giving steve a hard time at school like since max isn't there to keep an eye on him, maybe like in the locker rooms, something more privately, since Nancy would also probably say something and eddie walks in on the aftermath and he decides to help despite not thinking highly of steve yet

Eddie is returning from skipping class when he hears a clang! ring out as he passes by the locker room. A well-known sound, one of someone being shoved against the lockers. His first thought is poor bastard but better you than me and his second thought, because his uncle raised him right, is I better check this out, and if nothing else, I'm a witness.

"Not so tough without a twelve-year-old girl here to protect you, huh," Billy Hargrove's voice is unmistakable. Eddie's heard it enough this year, between selling him weed and setting between him and members of Hellfire. He's willing to admit some curiosity to the statement Hargrove just made. Who in the hell is he beating up that was saved by a twelve-year-old last time?

"She's thirteen, you jackass," groans a suspiciously familiar voice. Eddie knows he knows it but can't place it.

"You always seem to focus on the shit that doesn't matter," Hargrove sounds amused, like he's smiling while he talks. Eddie can see it now, the too big, too fake grin that spreads across Hargrove's face before he lunges like a feral dog.

What follows next is the sound of a tussle. It sounds more like a wrestling match than a fight, but the squeak of gym shoes against linoleum changes pitch, and Eddie is moving. Hargrove is dragging someone around in there and the little voice in the back of his mind that sounds like Wayne will not let him get a bit of sleep this week if he walks away.

It's a shock, to put it mildly, when sees Hargrove and Harrington, neither of which are wearing gym clothes, so Eddie has no idea how they ended up here. He watches as Hargrove tosses Harrington to the ground in the showers, whose head bounces off the tile. Ouch. Before he can say anything, make his presence known, Hargrove reaches over and turns the shower on, dousing Harrington.

"This seems... interesting," Eddie says, trying to play it cool, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the lockers to survey the situation. They both have bruising, days old it looks like, on their faces. Maybe they'd come here to try and finish what they'd started? "Who's winning?"

Hargrove laughed. "You've got a good sense of humor. Knew I liked you."

He tries to give back a shit-eating grin, but it probably just looks like a grimace. He's not a fan of either of these two and does really wish he'd kept walking. He's quickly trying to weigh the pros and cons of taking a side here. Hargrove's a jackass but he's also one of Eddie's best customers and he can't really afford to lose him; not with the amount Hargrove buys. Harrington, however, has become the more bearable of the two to be around, since Jonathon Byers rocked his shit last year, but he didn't buy his drugs from Eddie, so...

The water shuts off, catching Eddie's attention. He and Hargrove both turn to Harrington, who looks so pathetic using the shower walls to climb his way to standing.

"No, yeah, I can definitely tell who won," Eddie says, earning him another laugh from Hargrove, who claps a hand on Eddie's shoulder as he moves past, leaving the locker room without another word.

Harrington, meanwhile, staggers out of the slash zone and pulls his shirt off, trying to wring out the water from it. Eddie just watches. This is the easiest fight he's ever had to breakup, and while he doesn't know why it was so easy, he's not really going to start asking questions. Honestly, the less he knows, the better.

"Don't think that's gonna work."

"Helpful," Harrington mutters, even as he lowers his arms in defeat and frowns down at his shirt like it's the shirt's fault he's wet.

Eddie is not staring. He's not. Because that's the kind of shit he's learned to not do because it gets the shit beat out of you. So, it's not staring. It's... investigating. Categorizing the damage Hargrove has done. To make it known that is what he's doing, he asks, "how much of that was Hargrove?" as he gestures to all of Harrington with one hand.

Harrington looks down at his own chest, almost bewildered, like he can't believe he's bruised. "Uhh.... 73 percent?"

He doesn't want to laugh but his body makes an involuntary snort-giggle at Harrington's questioning voice. "Alright. What's the other 27 percent from?"

Harrington pokes at a bruise and then sways violently, stumbling himself backwards to slam into the wall. "Shit. Think 'm concussed again. Didn't think the first one was done."

"Shit, man. We need to get you to the nurse," Eddie might not like Harrington, but concussions are no joke. Eddie'd been in charge of waking his uncle every hour on the hour a few years ago, when he'd got knocked good on the head at the plant.

"Right. Sounds good," Harrington agreed, even as he slumped more against the wall.

Shit. Eddie's going to have to drag him there, he can tell already. "Alright, man, let's go."

Harrington doesn't protest when Eddie shoves himself under his arm and wraps a hand around his middle. Harrington and he are the same height, it seems, but the dude's been on every sports team the school offers, like not being involved in an after-school activity will result in his death or something. What he's getting at is that he certainly weighs more, what with the muscle mass he's got going.

Briefly he wonders if a concussed Harrington would let him get away with coping a feel at his abs or arms, but that's dismissed immediately. Stop being a creep, Munson.

"Why're you helpin'?" Harrington says, about halfway to the nurse.

Eddie shrugs, "my uncle always says to look out for the little guy."

"Hey. I coulda won that fight. If he hadn't brained me on the lockers before repeating the performance with the shower tiles."

"You're going to have brain damage."

"Mmmm think I've always had that," Harrington says it softly, like he's talking to himself and has forgotten Eddie is within hearing distance. "I think each blow to the head is making me, like, a better person. Un-brain damaged."

"Yeaaahh, not sure about that last bit, but you've been less of an ass since Byers got you last year, so I can't say for sure you aren't right."

They make it to the nurse. Eddie deposits Harrington into an empty chair and the nurse helpfully gives Eddie a note for his next class, should he decide to actually go.

"Wait," Harrington calls out when Eddie's half out the door, so he twists to look back, raising an eyebrow at him. "Thanks, Eddie."

"Don't worry about it, Har-Steve," Eddie replies, slipping out the door and closing it behind him. Since when does Harrington know his name?

[willel]

Points of interest (for me)

Really trying to figure out how the hell Will is just gonna be back in High School like it's no big deal. Does the government not care about the Byers or Mike who were obviously associated with El, anymore??? Much confusion. Like, I know Will needs to go to school but....???? The government is being incompetent again.

So it looks like they'll be exploring tunnels again. Makes sense. Smart to bring a ladder this time. But for what reason would they go tunnel exploring? Is it easier to get into the Upside Down via tunnel? Is something hidden in there? Or is it just another point of attack again? The government claimed they filled in all the holes but did they really?

Crazy stuff happening at the Wheeler home. Holly?'s room reminds me of Poltergeist. Minus the evil closet of glowing doom. Also, does her hair seem a bit wet? I wonder what she's so horrified by. A monster?

Team meeting in the woods. But major problem here. WHY would you be making plans in the woods. Maybe I'm overestimating the amount of danger they're in but going to such a secluded location with monsters potentially popping up seems unwise???

Then we have them on a different day and Will is having a daze and the others don't notice. 100% callback to the beginning of season 2 with Will walking right out of the arcade unnoticed. Since no one else seems to notice anything, then I'm guessing Truesight is indeed making a return?

I took this picture trying to figure out where Vecna is but I can't really tell. It is definitely a building because the floor is flat, right? From the looks of things, the floor isn't tiled and it doesn't look like wood. Looks like straight up just a flat floor. Either they'll fill it in later with CG or this is a place with a floor like that. Hm.... ohhhhh this place is kinda like that

At first I was thinking the school or the lab, but the school is too shiny and the lab is tiled. Could still be the school I guess.

I took this picture soley because it brought up memories of public school. I guess they'll be giving presentations on projectors. Maybe whatever plans they're coming up with.

Will falling down a tree. Or falling into the Upside Down. Either way sucks. If he does just fall out of a tree, one wonders why he climbed the tree. To hide from the Demogorgon? I guess we haven't seen them climb necessarily, and they don't seem particularly observant enough to look up.

She's fighting something, but I wonder what. I wonder if they'll be clashing with Vecna the entire time? Or maybe she's just fighting whatever new monsters pop up. Also questionably if she's in the Upside Down or a corrupted part of the right side up. But I'm guessing the Upside Down?