#feeling in some way and in this case the fabric and the details of the skirt made it look very interesting I loved it

[slvtf0rbuffwomen1111]

Assistance

Pt. 3, Pt. 2, Pt. 1

18+

Smut under cut.

Cw: daddy kink, slight degradation, overstimulation, choking, manhandling, rough sex

The rest of the week flew by. Sevika and you not interacting as much as you would like to due to all the cases her and Silco have to finish before the work week was over. You had about 3 hours left of work and you were making sure all the scheduling was correct for next week when you saw someone walk up to the desk in your peripheral. 

“You ready for the banquet tomorrow?”, you here Sevika say. She was leaning on the counter her arms straining against her blazer, her biceps on display. 

“Mhm almost I just need to find a dress, I’ll have to go tomorrow morning I haven't had much time this week to go look.”, you reply. 

“Just take the rest of the day off we have no more clients coming and the mall is gonna be packed in the morning.” 

“You’re not serious, are you?”, you say not believing her. 

“I am serious and here, take the company card to get yourself something real nice. Want my date looking better than anyone in that room.”, she said getting out her wallet. 

“Date? Thought I was your plus one.” 

“Date, plus one, same thing, I just want you looking your best, even though you look astonishing in anything. Right?”, she smirked. 

You couldn't say anything. 

 *Why is she so bold?!* 

“I'll tell Silco you're heading out and I'll text you details for the banquet in the morning.” 

“Ok Thank you.”, you get up and start gathering your stuff. 

“And I mean it, buy something nice, treat yourself, the card has no limit.” 

That’s how you found yourself at the mall at some dress shop. A very expensive one might I add. You picked up a price tag $649.99. 

*HOLY SHIT* 

You felt sick just touching something that expensive, but she did say no limits right, and to treat myself... 

You wander around the store some more trying to touch the dresses as least as possible worried the oils on your fingertips would ruin the delicate fabrics. And that when you saw it a long silk Burgandy dress. It was strapless and had heart shape neckline, with a sexy slit running up the leg. It was perfect. 

You obviously had to try it on before buying something with that price and it seemed even more perfect on. Accentuating all your curves and making your cleavage pop. You bought the dress not daring to look at the price tag. And made your way out the mall, before another store caught your eyes. 

VICTORIA’S SECRET 

Might as well get a new set to match your new dress. You decided on a black lace bandeau with a silk trim and red rose in the middle. A long with the matching panties that had a triangle cut out right above the ass. You bought the set with your card not wanting to push your limits and also not wanting finance department to see what you bought. You arrived home and got ready for bed. You couldn't sleep you had a shaking feeling inside, that feeling when you know something excited is happening the next day.  

It was the next afternoon, Sevika texted you letting you know she’ll be there to pick you up at 6pm, that gave you 7 hours to get ready. First you went to get a mani-pedi you haven't had one in ages and you really wanted to pamper yourself for your “date” with your sexy boss.  

You got home did a quick face mask and took a shower before starting on your hair and makeup. The makeup was natural with a bolder eyeliner, your lips painted a similar hue of your dress. Which you paired with some gold jewelry. (Or silver) 

You were slipping on a pair of black kitten heels when you heard a knock on your door.  

*She's early* 

“One second!”, you yell out while grabbing your clutch purse and lipstick.  

You opened the door expecting to see Sevika but instead saw an older man. 

“Y/n L//n, is that you?”, he asked looking down at his phone. 

“Yes?” 

“Ms. Verma sent me to pick you up as she is caught up with something at the moment but she will meet you at the Banquet Hall.", he explained. He led you down your apartment halls out to a black range rover opening the door for you.  

The drive was silent, you didn’t know if you should be mad, she wasn’t picking you up or flattered she sent such a nice car to pick you up. You made it to the banquet hall and saw Sevika outside the entrance doors. She looked noiceee. She was wearing a simple and classy all black tux that seemed to make her look even taller and intimidating than before.  

The valet opened the door for you and you made your way towards Sevika. When she spotted you, she couldn't seem to take her eyes off of you. Her eyes made you even more nervous than before.  

“Good to see you made it safely, Y/n, you look beautiful.”, she said clearly checking you out. 

“Thank you Sevika, as do you.” 

She held out her arm for you to grab as you both made your way into the banquet. There was lots of people all dresses in their best pearls and furs. You suddenly felt underdressed and underage. Everyone seemed to be Sevika's age or older. The older mean giving you look that made you want to cover yourself with a blanket. This didn’t go unnoticed by Sevika as she pulled you closer as you made you to your table. That so gracefully pulled the chair out for you.  

This was lot more boring than you thought. Hours of hearing mediocre jokes that you had choice to laugh at and food that tasted like straight up hospital food in ridiculously small portions. You were ready to go. 

“I’m gonna go wash up I’ll be back.”, you said quietly enough that just Sevika heard you. Which she didn't even seem too. 

You went to the bathroom and sat on your phone for a minute before washing your hands and exit the restroom to head back to boring festivities of the night. 

“Hello there young lady, you look very sexy tonight.”, said an old man who looked like he touched children. Ew.  

“Ha thank you.”, you blankly reply trying to walk past him. He grabbed on your arm to keep from going and you felt his old wrinkly yet moist hand.  

“Excuse me!” 

“You're not excused why don't you come to my table and chat for a while pretty.” 

“Shes not interested, you can let of go of her.” 

*Oh thank god* 

Sevika came standing next to you looking at the man like she was seconds away from killing him. Without another word the old man left as fast his stubby legs would let him. 

“I’m so sorry, are you ok?”, she asked facing you. 

“Ya I'm find just grossed out.” 

“I'm sorry, I should've came with you, these men here aren’t used to seeing such women, should've known they would try something. I can hurt him if you want me too.”, she said with eyes of rage and caring. 

“No Sev I’m fine thank you, I'm just glad you got here when you did.” 

She smiled at the nickname that came out your lips.  

“You wanna get out of here?” 

“I would like that.”, you said grabbing you clutch from her hand. She wrapped her arm around your waist as she said her goodbyes and walked you to her car. A nice sleek black Porsche 911.  

You guys drove in silence for a while until Sevika finally spoke up. 

“You want to come to my place, for a drink, you can say no I don’t mind”, she blabbered on. 

“That sounds fine to me.” 

The tension in the car seemed to rise more after that. You couldn’t stop staring at the way the veins in her hand protruded. You really wondered what those hands could do. 

You made to a gate and Sevika pressed a button in her car that opened it and there you saw the most gorgeous and huge house ever. You knew she had money but lawd, the car should've given it away.  

The inside was just as lavish as the outside. It had a homey vibe to it yet modern.  

“What do you drink?”, she asked pulling out two glasses. Her blazer now off.  

“I'll just have whatever you have.”, you said still soaking up her home. 

She poured you some whiskey and made her way to chair next to you. 

“That was banquet was boring I know, you don’t have to lie.”, she said. 

“Ya it was boring, that guy trying to feel me up was probably the most exciting thing that happened. Except it was actually quite scary.”, you say sipping on your drink. 

“Ya I'm sorry about that, I’m gonna have to report his firm, but that means more clients for us.", she joked. 

“I at least got this nice dress out of it though.” 

“You really do look so gorgeous you know that dress makes you look even more sexy.”, she said her eyes on you. 

“Why do you do that?” 

“Do what?”, she said setting her glass down and putting her hand on your thigh. 

“That, you tease me.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”, she said her eyes staring into yours. 

Your breath hitch as she started getting closer to you. Her eyes looking at your eyes then to your lips. That’s all you needed to close the space between you and kiss her. The kiss started off slow and passionate, like she was savoring you. 

“I've been wanting kiss you since I first saw you.”, you said into between kisses. 

“I've been wanting to a lot more than kiss you baby.”, she grabs your waist and hoist you onto the kitchen island. Her hands all over you back and thighs as you grab her neck and pull closer into you. Her thigh slots in between your legs making you let out a small whimper as you grind against her. The kisses getting sloppier and hotter by second. She starts to kiss down you jaw and onto your neck that will definitely leave marks. Your breath getting heavier. 

“Fuck y/n can I take you upstairs?”, she asked still kissing your neck. 

“Yes please.”, you breathe out. 

Her room was so dark and organized, a huge California king bed sits in the middle.  

She set you down on the bed not breaking the kiss. Her knee back in between your legs, your panties are soaked at this point and you're sure there's a wet patch on her pants. 

“Sevi, I need you please?”, you whine. 

“Yea need me how? Use your words baby.” 

“Touch me, I need you to touch me.”, you grind deeper into her knee. 

She lifts you off you back so she can unzip your dress. She slides the red fabric down your body and she smirks at your lace covered breast and pussy.  

“Fuck baby you knew this was gonna happen did you, huh?” 

“mhm”, you whine. She takes both your breast in her and starts to grope at them. You let out more whines as she unclasps your bra letting your breast free. She takes one of your breasts into her mouth, sucking on your hardened nipple her tongue swirling around it. Her mechanical hand wrapped around you while her flesh hand plays with your other breast.  

Your grinding harder and harder on her leg you pussy leaking all over her. She feels you seeping through her pants. 

“Your pussy needs some attention, doesn't she?”. You don’t reply, too embarrassed to say anything.  

“Answer me.”, she commands her mouth leaving your body completely. 

“Mm please touch my pussy I need you.” 

“Good slut.”, her hand travels down your body and she basically tears the underwear off of you, assuring you she’ll buy you a new pair. 

“You’re so fucking wet for me.”, her finger slides along your slit pushing down on your clit. You let out a whimper before she slides one of thick fingers inside of you. 

“Oh my god Sev”, she slides the finger in and out a few times before adding in a second finger curling up into you really stretching you out.  

“God you're so tight, how are supposed to take my cock huh?”, she teases. You moan at her words and squirm on her fingers. 

She takes your pulsing clit into her mouth sucking on your bud and lightly grazing it with her teeth.  

“Fuck se-” all you can do is moan her tongue making patterns on your pussy while she fingers you. Your so wet with you spit and you slick she slides in a third finger. 

“Need to make sure you can take my cock baby.”, she said completely obliterating your tight hole. Your stomach starts to feel hot and your legs begin to shake. 

“I’m g-gonna cum”, you barely stutter out. 

“Yeah, come on my face.” 

You squirt all over you mouth and fingers she does her best to drink it all up slurping on your pussy, downright nasty sound coming from you and her. You start to feel overstimulated as she's still eating your pussy and licking you up. Her fingers still deliciously hitting your g-spot.

“Sev I can’t it's too much”, you try to push her away but she doesn't budge. Your thighs now trapping her head, but she just pushes your leg back down and stares into your eyes as you come a second time on her mouth. She finally pulls away and climbs back on top you pulling you into a sloppy kiss. You can taste yourself on her mouth. 

“You ready for my cock baby?”, she asked.  

“Yes, I want your dick in me please!” 

She stands up off the bed and walked towards her bathroom while removing her shirt. When she comes back out, she is naked with nothing but an 8inch strap harnessed to her hips. Not only is a long but it's also thick. Her body is better than you imagined rock hard abs, muscular thighs, and her arm so strong looks like she kill you with just one punch

“Don’t worry baby it'll fit.”, she said like she can read your mind. 

“Open your legs for me”, you immediately obey her opening up and putting your pussy on display. She gets in between your legs. She starts rubs the tip of the strap up and down you wet pussy.  

“Y’ so wet I don't need any lube baby.”.  

“Open up for me.”.  You comply and open up your mouth wide for her. She puts her middle and ring finger in your mouth and down your throat causing you to gag. She removes her fingers and wipes your spit on her cock jerking it off.  

“You ready baby?”, she asked leaning over you. 

“Mhm” 

“I need words baby.” 

“Yes, please just fuck me already!” 

She doesn’t wait a second longer before she puts her cock in you. You moan at the stretch of her thickness. She doesn’t wait; she bottoms out completely in you before pulling out and putting it back in. She starts fucking you slowly at first but doesn’t last long, she speeds up and you moan and whimper in pleasure. 

“Fuck daddy oh my g-” 

That where you messed up. She looks at you with pure animalistic intents. 

 She takes your legs and put them up to your chest, your basically folded in half as she starts to fuck you hard and fast. You can only scream in pleasure she’s so deep in you, you swear you can feel her in her stomach.  

“You're so deep daddy”, you can barely get it out. She grabs you by neck with her mechanical hand and starts to squeeze your neck, not enough to stop your breathing, but enough to make you feel woozy in the head.  

“You like daddy’s cock in your pussy huh, don’t you slut”, she growls in your ear. You nod your head as she continues to pound into your pussy. The sound of skin slapping and the wetness of your pussy fills the room. Your bodies radiating heat against each other. She feels your body stiffen up and your pussy tighten around her cock. She knows your gonna cum. She keeps her pace and starts to rub your clit. 

“Gonna come all over daddy’s cock like a good little slut.”, that’s all she needed to say. Your eyes roll to back of head and open your mouth wide as you scream out to her. Your body twitching as you leak around her cock.  

“Oh- fuck”,Sevika groans as her pace falters, she comes with a grunt and moans into your ear.   

She collapsed on top of you, her breathing heavy against your neck. She starts to kiss back up you neck and to your lips. You two kissed for a while until Sevika grabbed you by your waist and flipped you over. 

“I’m not done with you yet, ass up baby”, she spanked your ass. You arched your back putting your pussy on perfect display for her. 

“fuck”, Sevika muttered under breath. Seeing the way your ass was shaped and your (her) personal heaven in between your thighs. Her hand touch around you ass and down to you weeping hole. She lines her cock back up and thrust all 8 inches into you at once. You scream at the intrusion but she doesn't stop. She’s fucking you hard. Both hands on your hips as she pulls you deeper onto her cock. Your face smushed into the pillow, your moans and whines muffled.  

“Could fuck your pussy all day baby”, she grunts using her flesh hand spank you. The added pain just made you squeeze more around her dick. Your moans getting louder. Thank god you weren't at your apartment. She takes her mechanical hand back around your neck to pull you up, your back now against your chest. The angle making her impossibly deeper into you.  

The only sound leaving you lips were incoherent babbles and moans. Drool pools out of your mouth. You are officially drunk on her cock.  

“Uh-uh fuck Sevi”, you manage to get out. 

“You love the way daddy fucks your slutty pussy, don't you?” 

“Yes, daddy I love it”  

She looks down to where your two bodies connect. A thick white ring of cum at the base of her cock. It only makes her fuck you harder. The sound of her hips against your ass, your moans and her grunts, the way she has her hands feel on your body. It was all too much.  

“Be a good slut for daddy and rub your pretty clit and I'll let you cum”, you whine in protest. You don’t even think you have enough body strength left for that, but the urge to cum is stronger. You bring your hand down your pussy and start to rub fast tight circles on your clit. Only took 10 seconds until your twitching and cumming all over her dick. Your cum dripping down your thighs.  

She gently sets you down onto the bed knowing you couldn't hold yourself up. She slowly pulls out her strap that makes you wince in discomfort.  

“I’ll be right back baby”, she says before she disappears into her bathroom. She comes out with boxers on and in her hands a class of water, a rag, and a t shirt for you. She turns you over and gently cleans in between your legs with the warm damp rag while kissing your thighs. She then has you sit up so she can put the shirt on for you. 

“Drink some of this then you can sleep baby”, your eyes barley able to keep themselves open. She tilts your head back for you and you drink half the glass before you fall back into bed. Sevika climbs in next to you her arm on your stomach.  

“Goodnight y/n”, she whispers but you don’t hear her as your already fast asleep. 

You just fucked your boss. 

Lmk if you want me to continue this story<3

[1-800-dreamgirl]

Paloma Elsesser at the 2024 Met Gala

[amazinglyashy]

My love, put Aphrodite to shame.

Read on Ao3 Pairings: Rafayel x Reader Summary: Trying to help Rafayel by posing in lingerie for him for his next work, things take a turn for the hot and heady. Maybe you should try nude modelling instead? Either way, his painting won't be finished until he is first- Tags: N/SFW, Unprotected, P in V, BJs, Vanilla Notes: Paint me like one of your Lemurian girls ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ Wordcount: 3,808

"Like this?" You ask, moving just slightly, per Rafayel's earlier instructions. You had been pulled into posing for him, a long day of him begging you to be his muse for his latest work had cumulated into you standing barefoot on the marble at MoArt studio, trying your best to model for someone with such high expectations, you had seen Thomas tug at his own hair repeatedly in the past. 

So far, that hadn't been the case tonight.

The first glimpses of moonlight filter through the faint breath of lace that curtained the windows of Rafayel's studio, casting a faint blue haze throughout the room and tinting everything it touched with a silver glow. You stood a moment away, centered in the room and rays of the moon's glow in white lingerie. It hugged the swell of your hips delicately, the lace designs floral, with the straps of the set etched with the smallest pearls. The rest of the fabric is sheer, with the flowers covering anything more seductive than just your normal flesh.

You were dressed intoxicatedly sensual, the straps of your panties placed high on your hips, your chest filling the matching bra beautifully. If a goddess came down from the heavens tonight and stood in a room with you and a varied audience, they wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the mere mortal and the divine.

And that had been the goal- the idea having plagued the deepest corners of Rafayel's mind for the last week and a half. The potently sensual image of you before him was everything he had imagined in a possible muse, every bit of perfect he had always known you to be.

"That's it..." He breathed. "Raise your head, cutie, just slightly. Yeah, just like that."

You raised your chin, your head now held high under both his gaze and the dim light of the moon. He had lit some candles as well, but made sure that they were peppered throughout the room at a distance, wanting the slight dots of warmth to not overpower the vision he had created in his mind.

He concentrated, his brush gliding down the canvas in long strokes as he began to put the beginning colors down. He didn't want you standing forever, but he needed you there long enough to capture the image in his mind. At the very least, until it was time to focus on the more important details and additions.

You could feel the warmth in your cheeks grow. This wasn't the first time he had painted you, but it was definitely the first time it was being done so seriously. You were used to charcoal on paper, etching the most prominent features of your face that Rafayel admired. You were used to broken down figure sketches, the most basic shapes making the outline of your body as you sat on his lounge and read a report.

This was... new.

It wasn't bad though, you hoped he wouldn't get you wrong if he asked you. You were enjoying yourself, albeit you were a bit chilly, standing in just a lingerie set near the open windows. The breeze kept wafting in, and being so close to the seaside meant the evening air was particularly biting. Goosebumps ghosted over the skin of your arms, as you tried to keep the blush that was forming across your cheeks at bay.

"Step just slightly closer, cutie." He murmured, and you moved barely a step towards him and the canvas, his gaze scrutinizing as he decided whether or not it was what he was looking for. His fingers flickered, beckoning you forward another step. You obliged, your heart pounding.

The extra step had brought you within an arm's reach of Rafayel and his easel, and it felt like the cool chill of the night was melting away the closer you got to him. The goosebumps remained, however, for a different reason. You were close enough that you could smell the remnants of the cologne he had applied this morning, mixed with the salt of the air surrounding you.

His eyes flickered away from the canvas to glance at you, and you ducked your gaze on impulse. He tried to keep the twitch of a smirk from appearing on his lips, but he couldn't help it. His eyes roamed over you, drinking in the person before him and the beauty that she had to offer him. He had been right in buying you that specific set- it fit you like a glove, and the way it hugged even the slightest curve on your body was enough to make his heartbeat quicken in the depths of his chest.

He couldn't help it. "Perfect," he whispered, moving to slowly set his brush aside, reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "That's absolutely perfect."

"I aim to please."

But you knew he wasn't talking about the pose anymore- about anything pertaining to his painting. His thumb moved to brush delicately over your lower lip, tracing the soft skin as his eyes remained glued to your mouth. You wished something else would be glued to your mouth instead, the heat in your stomach starting to bubble.

As if hearing your silent wish, Rafayel leaned down slowly- carefully. His lips met yours in a tender and lingering kiss. You held yourself back from deepening it, from forcing it further no matter how much need was beginning to pile up within your heart and heat. Your nose tickled instead, a strand of his hair falling forward between the two of you, and you did your best to remember to breathe.

Forgetting the pose, your hand moves to rest on his forearm, your fingers finding his skin under the linen sleeve of his shirt. You want nothing more than to remove it from him- the image of your fingers undoing the pearlescent buttons at a painfully slow speed meant to entice and tease the man below you playing over and over in your head. But you resisted, instead enjoying the feeling of his other hand lifting to rest on your other cheek, holding your face as he himself can't resist deepening the kiss.

His hands tightened their hold, thumbs brushing across the crest of your cheekbones as he moved you to angle your head to intensify the kiss even more. His tongue traced along the seam of your lips, coaxing them to move apart and allow him inside. You happily obliged, your tongue dancing with his own as you tried to hold back the moan that had formed at the back of your throat.

After a moment, he pulled back suddenly, the both of you panting. Rafayel's eyes were dark, filled with lust as they glowed faintly a bright pink in the dimness of the room you were standing in. "I think..." He breaks the silence, his voice low, husky- "I need to study my subject. Just... Just a bit more-"

You nod, and his left hand drops, tracing the hem of your panties with a finger, teasing at the lingerie as his touch sends a shiver down your spine as goosebumps form across the tops of your arms again. You press your body into him, nuzzling against the crook of his neck like an invitation, a wordless affirmation at everything he was doing to you- at everything he wanted to do to you.

You can hear his breath hitch at the contact, and you can only imagine that his heart is racing just as much as yours is. But now the both of his hands are on your waist, and he's pushing back into you like there is still somehow too much distance between the two of you.

And then he starts to grind his hips against you, and you can feel his arousal all too well against the soft of your skin. He's craving the friction, needing the pressure against his sex, as he dips his head to graze his teeth over the sensitive skin of your neck. He kisses a line down the side, surely leaving marks with a few of them as he makes his way down towards your chest.

"What do you want, cutie?" He whispers against the ridge of your collarbone, and the heat of his breath is enough to make you keel over then and there. You take in a ragged breath instead, your own hands moving to drag up and under the shirt on his back

"I want you."

And that's not even the truth spilling from your mouth, the self-correction balancing on the edge of your lips as you try and breathe under the heat of Rafayel's gaze. Try to tell right from left, and up from down, when your head is spinning out of control with desire.

"I need you." It teeters off your lips, and the glint in his eyes- they were always so gorgeous, the way they glowed pink whenever he was deeply aroused- could practically be described as animalistic at your words.

His hands move upward from where they rested on your waist, toying with the clasp of your bra. A soft moan escapes you, and that's all the affirmation he needs to continue.

And then the lace is falling loose around you, the cups of your bra slipping downwards to fall to the floor between you. Rafayel's hand immediately seize the flesh of your bare breasts, squeezing them gently as he lets his thumbs trail over the hardened buds of your nipples.

You can't help the soft moan that escapes your lips, the build up to the touch only having made you more sensitive to his ministrations now that they were truly beginning. His index and thumb pinches each nipple lightly, and you swear you could melt into a puddle on the floor in front of him then and there from his hands alone.

"So beautiful," he murmurs huskily, leaning down to place open-mouthed kisses across the swell of your breasts, his hands still hard at work to make your brain incapable of any coherent thought. "So beautiful, and just for me."

Your hands find the belt loops of his waistband, and then you're undoing the clasp of metal and leather as quickly as your shaking hands can manage. You need him. You need him, you need him, you need him, and it's taking everything in you to unbutton his pants and pull the zipper down as his assault on your chest has turned into him suckling delicately at one of your nipples. His tongue swirling over the sensitive bud was enough to make you tremble, your pussy throbbing at the thought of his attention diverting even lower, to where you wanted him the most.

You can feel him shudder as your fingers brush over the bulge in his pants as you work, but the attention he has on your breasts doesn't stop. He's alternating between flicking his tongue over the tips of your nipples, and sucking at them until your body is arching into him unconsciously. His hands explore your body, and the tangle of you two make movements difficult, but you manage to finally unfasten his pants completely.

And then you're pulling away from him- sinking to your knees in front of him before he can question your withdrawal with more than the whimper that had already escaped the back of his throat, sending a jolt of heat to where you needed him the most. You kept your resolve, though, glancing up at him as you tug at the waistband of his boxers, allowing his cock to spring free.

Already as hard as it could possibly get, you can see the precum glistening the tip even in the dim lighting of the studio. You don't waste any time, leaning forward to brush the tip of your tongue across it, savoring his flavor as he lets out a breathy moan at the feeling.

Encouraged, you let out the slightest chuckle, wrapping your hand at the base of his cock and giving it a few lazy pumps. Slowly, almost painfully, placing his cock in your mouth and giving it a few gentle suckles, whimpering happily just slightly at the taste on your tongue.

Rafayel releases a sharp gasp, your warm mouth enveloping his length blissfully well. He can't help his hand as it reflexively tangles into your hair, guiding your head gently further down his cock. He moans when he glances down, your lips stretched beautifully around his girth, the view and the feeling both equally maddening in his mind.

You bob your head up, never the most experienced at giving blow jobs, but a master of eliciting the most amazing noises from your Lemurian. You can feel him throb in your throat, shallowly thrusting into you with more restraint than you could believe he was capable of. Especially with the sight of you down on your knees, still wearing the slightest bit of the lingerie he had been practically dreaming of you wearing ever since he had purchased the set.

You push yourself, dipping your head down painfully as you take him as deeply as you possibly could. You can feel your eyes burning as the tears begin to form at the same time you feel his balls brush against your chin. He lets out a low, guttural groan- his fingers gripping through your hair as he loses himself to the pleasure of your throat.

You pull yourself off of him, and the lewd noise of his dick leaving your throat competes with the image of the string of saliva still connecting you to him as you look up at him for what will make him even hornier. He wishes he could save the image before him somewhere forever, but he settles for moving to unbutton his shirt and reach down to help you up to your feet, carefully, but desperately.

You're barely to your feet before his lips are crashing into yours all over again, as if desperate to drink the remaining saliva and the taste of himself from your lips. The pressure causes you to stumble backward, his hands finding your waist again as he keeps you upright. He keeps you walking rapidly backward until you can feel the backs of your legs hit the cool leather edge of his couch. You let him continue forward, laying you down as he climbs on top of you, finally breaking the kiss and leaving the both of your breathing heavy and coming out in pants.

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, and you can see the red painting his face even in the dark of the room. From the heat you feel in your cheeks, you know he can probably see your blush as well. You're not really sure what to say. You want to say how gorgeous he looked standing over you, just how amazing he looks over you right now-

"Hey..." You breathe, and you can feel your blush deepen as he lets out a chuckle at your greeting.

"Hey there, gorgeous." He whispers, his breath hot on your face from how close he's hovering over your. You reach out to brush a hand across his cheek, and you can see the pink in his eyes intensify from your touches.

"You're so incredible, cutie..." He murmurs. "I'm going to take such good care of you. Promise."

As if trying to prove his own words, Rafayel begins to pepper kisses down your body- starting from the crook of your neck, down your chest as he pauses only to suckle on the curves of your breasts one more time. Your stomach shudders as his lips make contact with the sensitive skin there, almost distracting you fully from his thumbs hooking through the bands of the panties you were still miraculously wearing.

He pulls downward, exposing your heat to the cool air of the room, the goosebumps returning to coat your arms and legs at the shift in temperature. You can see Rafayel smirk at your little shivers.

"Don't worry, cutie." He breathes, shifting himself lower as his cock comes down to rest across your pussy and stomach. "I'll make sure to warm you up."

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat, seeing his size against you. You've taken him plenty of times before, but it was always incredible seeing the size difference, wondering how he always managed to fit inside of you so perfectly, every single time.

You don't have to wonder much though, given the probing feeling of his dick at you entrance sending shockwaves of anticipation throughout your body as he readies himself to enter you.

Taking a moment to tease you, he moves his cock against your folds, coating himself in the wetness of your arousal. Each pass he makes make you buck gently against him, desperate for more of him- desperate for more him inside of you. He smirks, knowing exactly what you're looking for, but forever a tease.

"I love seeing you like this, cutie. So beautiful for me." He mutters, drinking in the lustful expression painted across your face, full of want, full of need. Full of need for him. "I want to worship every single inch of you."

And finally- slowly, tortuously- he begins to push forward into you, the thick head of his cock finally breaching the folds of your pussy into your insides. A low groan escapes his lips, drawn out from the tightness engulfing him. He inches forward inch by agonizing inch as you let out a moan of your own, adjusting to his size beautifully like you always did, his hands caressing your thighs soothingly as he finally bottoms out inside of you.

You let out a small gasp at his size when he stops moving, trying to remember how to breathe, but the fullness is too perfect. His hand runs up from your left thigh to rest against your side, just over your ribs, encouraging you to take another breath. He feels incredible inside of you- he always does. Every single time. As if he was made for you, shaped perfectly to fit you.

His hands move to your hips, gripping you gently as he finally starts to move within you. Rafayel starts out slow- deliberate, savoring the feeling of being buried deep inside of you. He watches your expression melt into delicious pleasure, aiming as best as he can for the right spots within your walls.

"Oh, cutie... you feel amazing, wrapped around my cock." He breathes, punctuating himself by beginning to thrust harder into you. He can feel you clenching around him erratically, already close to the edge yourself from his earlier ministrations and the sensuality fogging the air all evening. He changes his angle slightly, aiming for the best spot inside of you- the one that makes stars dance into your vision. From the sounds you're making, he knows it's not much longer for you- Fuck, it's not much longer for himself either. Not with what you're body is doing to him.

He continues, setting a relentless pace, each thrust hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you. You swear your vision is going to turn white from the pleasure, and your walls squeeze him sporadically in turn, working his own orgasm to the ledge of release.

Rafayel leans down suddenly, capturing your lips in rough kiss and swallowing your moans as his tongue explores your mouth again. One of his hands moves from your hip, reaching between your bodies to find your clit and rub. His thumb circling the sensitive spot as he pulls away from the kiss, panting as he watches you start to fall apart from his cock and fingers.

"Ah!" You choke, the sounds of your pleasure catching in the back of your throat with every single brutal thrust. "Yes, yes- Rafayel!"

"That's it, let go for me-" He urges, his breathing becoming more shallow himself as he inches closer to the brink. He can feel it, and his determination for the both of you to release together fuels his hips into snapping harder into you. "Yes cutie- Cum for me. Cum for me, my love."

The gasp in his voice, strained from his own tension, mixed with his fingers abusing your clit as he pounds you into the couch cushions- It's all too much. The final thread you were hanging onto finally snaps, and you can feel your body spasm and arc as your orgasm rips through you, blinding your vision for just a moment as your pussy clenches around Rafayel's cock.

His release is right behind yours- a few more thrusts powered by animalistic need, and he's burying himself to the hilt inside of you. Cumming and spilling deep within you as your tight cunt milks him dry as you ride out your high.

You can feel him shaking against you, the pleasure of his own climax rippling through him as he lets his weight down on top of you, just for a moment. You welcome the pressure, running your tired hands up and down his back slowly as you try and calm his heart rate down. He responds to your touch but nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, placing kisses on the skin in between his deep breathing.

"Geez, cutie. That was incredible."

His breathing is heavy and you can still feel his heart racing against you despite your touch. He lifts his head to gaze at you, his expression dazed, but a satisfied smile plays on his lips. He brushes a strand of your hair away from the sweat on your brow, before placing a kiss where it had been. You flash him a smug, exhausted grin of your own. "I'll always be the best at bringing you to your knees." 

Rafayel laughs, moving off of you to lie next to you, pulling you closely against his chest from the limited space the couch provided the two of you. That, and he just wanted to have you in his arms. He peppers kisses on you cheek, enough to make you giggle and try and push him away, but your motions lack any bite, and not just because you're tired from the session the two of you just had.

They feel quite nice.

"I don't think I was the one on my knees." 

"Physically, sure. But mentally?" You giggled, and he smiles down at you. "You're down bad for me." 

He doesn't respond immediately, instead just... looking down at you. That goofy smile still spread across his lips. There's something else, painted in his eyes. You see it often, whenever he looks at you, and you're not sure there's a word that exists that can describe it. But you know that you feel the same way whenever you look at him. 

"Absolutely cutie." He responds, finally.

"Absolutely."

[ikeuverse]

criminal love | psh

pairing: killer!sunghoon x rich!fem!reader genres: angst, smut, maybe fluff wc: 4.6k+

꒰ 𝅄 warnings ꒱ : weapons, drink, drugs, swearing. mention and execution of murder, blood, fights (physical and verbal). unprotected sex (the details of the sex parts i'll add as i post the chapters), but there are more than two, for sure. lmk if i forgot anything else.

꒰ 𝅄 synopsis ꒱ : paid to kill people, sunghoon finds himself in the biggest dilemma of his life. getting paid the most money his profession has ever given him to kill a woman. but he can't do it because it goes beyond his principles, who has never laid a finger on a woman. what will he do when the twist is right in front of his eyes?

꒰ 𝅄 notes ꒱ : i had this initial idea for jay, but i don't know why i thought i'd write it for sunghoon. i've modified a few things and i'm thinking of making it a story with a few chapters. i hope you like it!

TAGLIST: i don't know if i'll do it, but…

꒰ 𝅄 masterlist | prologue | part 1 | part 2 [...] ꒱

None of this was new to Park Sunghoon. The eyes stared at him in fear, shining with a pair of panicked features as they begged for their lives. His index finger against the trigger of the gun before he asked to speak his last words and then fired. Seeing the body slowly collapse in front of you, the eyes losing life and the blood dripping through the fabric of the clothes and onto the floor. This was a very familiar scenario, even more so as a hitman.

If anyone ever asked him why he lived this life, the answer would come quickly: easy money.

Sunghoon got used to being on the streets in search of a job to maintain his almost miserable life after the death of his parents. His grandfather, an alcoholic who barely stayed at home, was the only living relative he had. And the only person who could give him a roof over his head at fifteen.

Wandering the streets in search of something solid led Sunghoon to meet all sorts of people and ways of making ends meet. He worked with a bit of everything until he found the job he had settled into today. It was through Jake, one of the first people he befriended, that he learned what it was like to kill for money. His friend's father had a scheme and paid him well enough to eat, dress, and live in his grandfather's house, which he barely saw.

Jake and his father became a family to Sunghoon, even if it was in the worst of environments, but it was the only thing he could get close to that bordered on a good feeling. The boy couldn't call it love because he'd never heard it from any of his friends, although they could say that they respected and cared for each other, but love, for Sunghoon, was too strong.

Who would say about love when, in fact, he was hired to kill? Often people from his own family and for financial reasons. So how could he believe that love existed when his job showed otherwise? Of course, everyone had family problems… Look at him! Sunghoon wasn't the greatest example of this, but come on, he would never have his grandfather or anyone else killed in his own home. It was bizarre, but unfortunately, that's what he dealt with most of the time. And that's what filled his pocket and made him change his life.

Moving into his apartment after his grandfather died, having more contact with Jake and his father about the business, and even getting on a bit more when things started to expand. This was all thanks to Sunghoon's skill and eye for instigating Jake's father to think bigger. It was risky for him to try to suggest that they think big, such as killing some CEO in debt or someone high up.

You've got to be crazy, he heard Jake mutter once, at an informal meeting they had after a successful case. Sunghoon could be crazy, but when it came down to it and money, the highest cases paid well. And that's what he asked Jake's father about until they had their first diplomat client. The amount to be paid was so high that they had never thought of having it in their bank accounts.

"We need to kill about four people to get that" Jake muttered after looking at the amount. A sigh left his father's lips before he agreed.

And so began the great social affair between Jake and Sunghoon – along with Jake's father – for bigger cases with fat sums in their money accounts.

It was dangerous, but Sunghoon lived for it. He didn't have anyone else, he didn't have anything to think about except his well-being and how he could have what he wanted more peacefully after living in poverty for years. He didn't want to go through the insecurity of not having anything to eat, or having to wander the streets looking for something to do or somewhere to stay so that he wouldn't have to be alone in a house where he didn't know who would come back. But now, in his apartment, he shared the peace of knowing that everything was his. Every little thing in there had been earned by him, even if the money wasn't in the cleanest way, but someone had to do that kind of work.

And it wasn't as if Sunghoon would kill just anyone either, he had strict criteria about this that he made very clear to Jake and his father before things got as strong as they are today. Like killing people who had only done some kind of harm to those who had asked for it. Like women who had been beaten by their husbands, or someone in particular who had physically or mentally hurt whoever was hiring the service. Or that person posed a risk to the society in question and they knew that no authority would do anything about it. So they did. And the most important thing of all was that under no circumstances would Sunghoon lay a hand on a woman.

But the universe seemed to play tricks on him that morning, arriving at the office and seeing Jake's eyes light up. It would be pointless to ask why, considering that he was one of the first to receive clients and their proposals, so someone had probably come to Jake to talk to him and give him a huge sum of money.

"Dude, I think we're rich" he threw himself into the leather chair that initially belonged to his father. But as long as the older man didn't arrive at the office, Jake took possession of it until that happened.

"What do you mean?" Sunghoon held back a laugh as he walked a little further into the office, throwing his body into the small armchair opposite the desk Jake was sitting at "A client with good money?"

"Better than that" he sighed, throwing his head back "This client wants to hire our services for two people, but the price is—"

"Jake, spit it out" Sunghoon said quickly.

"Bro, she'll pay two million" he looked directly at Sunghoon. That amount would cheer the boy up if he hadn't heard it before, or even been paid for it "For each of us, and for each of the two people we're going to kill."

Wait, that was new to Sunghoon. Two million for each of them, totaling two people to kill, so… Four million for him, and four million for Jake?

"Man, that's…"

"Insane, I know" Jake interrupted him as if he already knew what his friend was going to say. But something seemed a little off because he didn't have that much energy to say that amount. Normally Jake would have been bouncing around the room literally like a child, totally losing his hitman pose as he commented on the four million that would be playing around in his bank account for the next few weeks.

"What's wrong?" Sunghoon asked at once, noticing the change in his friend's mood as the seconds passed. Jake now looked a little uncomfortable in his father's chair and shifted his body a few times to try to find a comfortable position, opting to lean his elbows on the table and tilt his body a little.

"You know it's four million each, right?" he asked, watching Sunghoon agree "And that the percentage we give my father on each client is very small because, well, he already has a lot of money…"

"Speak up, man. You're stalling on something." Sunghoon wasn't out of patience, but he knew that Jake tended to talk too much when he was nervous. What could have happened to make him like this?

Jake nodded in agreement and continued to lean on the table, leaning towards Sunghoon, who settled into the armchair and imitated his friend's position on the other side. Leaning his elbows on the table and looking at the boy in front of him, who was now looking at his hands.

"A woman wants us to kill her brother and…" Jake slowly closed his eyes "Her niece."

Sunghoon felt a ringing in his ear and then his whole body tensed up. He couldn't explain why he had that reaction, but just mentioning that there was a woman for him to kill made everything seem completely out of place to him.

"You're kidding me, right?" Sunghoon asked.

"I really wanted to, man, I swear" he whined, watching Sunghoon's withdrawal appear little by little as he slid his arms off the table and leaned back in the armchair.

"And what did those two do to make her want to kill two people at once?"

"I don't know" Jake shrugged. "She hasn't told me yet, she's arranged a meeting and my father wants to go along. It's too high…"

"You two do it" he stood up, walking to the middle of the room before he heard Jake calling after him. Without turning around, Sunghoon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He waited a few seconds before finally turning to his friend.

"I can't do this without you, bro. You know we've been working together forever" Jake began.

"But what are my conditions?" Sunghoon asked, and for a moment he saw a glimmer of regret in Jake's eyes. For mentioning or even thinking that his friend might do this kind of thing. Maybe the money had messed with his head a bit and he wouldn't deny it, but Jake knew Sunghoon well enough, he just wanted to try until he couldn't anymore. Even though he knew it would come to nothing because Sunghoon would never accept.

Silence was Jake's way of responding, not knowing exactly what to say because he knew Sunghoon's terms well. Everyone was aware and in agreement, so why change their minds at that moment?

"I just need your help, then" he said after some quiet time.

"I'm not putting my hands on either of you, be warned," Sunghoon said, a little angry about the whole situation until he saw Jake nod silently, implying that he had nothing more to say.

Then, as if on cue, he left the room and walked around the building in search of something to clear his mind of what had just happened. It was an unimaginable amount for him, but Sunghoon wouldn't go against his principles for it.

For the first time, he had refused something that Jake had asked of him. And he felt immensely awkward about it.

You could feel the migraine invading you little by little. The side of your head ached like never before, while your eyes stung and you tried your best to pay attention to people and their words of condolence.

It had been a week since your grandfather's death, and the only sincere tears you had seen – apart from your own – were those of your uncle. He was the closest thing to real family you had after your father's death a year ago. Having him around was comforting, especially as your family was driven by money and scandal. Everything revolved around social and financial status. Your grandfather's company was the focal point of all that arrogance in the family members.

But now, with his death and the will read, you had to assimilate that the only beneficiaries were you and your uncle, the one who was still crying over his father's death and trying to understand how it had all happened. And then there was him, a well-groomed gentleman who eschewed the stereotype of the rich old man and business owner who walked around with a glass of whisky in his hand. On the death certificate, his grandfather had died of cirrhosis, but you were surprised. Even though he wasn't a health professional, you could assume that this would be different, to say the least, since the old man had never drunk a drop of alcohol.

“This is terrible for your health” he once said. “Try never to drink more than necessary. And at parties, I promise to serve you the best natural juice.”

Those words always lingered in your mind because your grandfather was serious, in his own right, but he was very loving. You became so attached to him that you took an interest in the affairs of your grandfather’s company with a genuine gesture of helping him, which he appreciated.

Maybe that was what had made him put your name on that paper, inheriting half of the family fortune. While your uncle got the other half.

Millions and millions, or should say billions? It was so much money that you swore you would die and the amount would continue to yield in your account even though you used it almost every day. That was why you knew that some people who had always been there for your grandfather’s money were now furious because they couldn’t enjoy a single cent of it.

“We are so sorry for the loss of your father, Yvone” someone’s voice took you out of your thoughts, making your eyes dart around the people around you. A well-dressed woman with a tired expression was greeting your aunt. She didn’t have a trace of sadness on her face. That stranger seemed sadder than your aunt over the loss of her father.

“I’m sure you are too” she tried to fake a sad voice that you recognized from afar. Your stomach almost churned as she hugged the other woman.

Suddenly, your embarrassment became even greater, because your aunt's gaze was immediately on you. She seemed angry, with something bad inside her that immediately wanted to be directed at you. Your gaze soon turned away from her to try to find your uncle who was desolate.

Your steps through the environment were fast and precise, the sound of leather shoes against the devastated floor was inhibited by the sound of other people's voices and laments. You weren't running, but the things inside your body said very well that you seemed to be in a hurry.

Your eyes quickly spotted your uncle a little further away, sitting on a bench alone outside. You walked a little calmer towards him until you sat next to the man. He didn't need to look up to know that the only person with compassion in that family was you.

"I wish this nightmare would end" he said quietly, a sob breaking out of his voice when your uncle raised his head and continued to look ahead.

"I still can't believe it" you sighed. Your eyes are locked on the events in front of you. Some people were coming and going from your grandfather's mansion with small flowers in their hands or pieces of paper, like written notes of thanks. Of course, he wouldn't read them, he was dead. But it was a way of thanking everyone he knew, and the reading would be up to you and your uncle. The only ones who cared about the sentimental side of things.

"Do you think Yvone hates us now?" your uncle asked, finally looking at you. His eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets and bloodshot from his eyeballs, they were so red. You swallowed a sigh and just nodded.

"For the reading of Grandpa's will? Of course" you laughed humorlessly, listening to him accompany you.

As if summoning a haunting, just saying her name out loud made your aunt's figure appear in the doorway of the mansion. She welcomed people by trying to look sad or convincing whoever was arriving. Her eyes quickly fell on you and your uncle, further away from the house and sitting on a secluded bench. She didn't show any reaction but took her cell phone out of her pocket to do something you didn't even care about. Her attention was on the man next to her.

“I can’t be happy knowing that my father left all this for me and you” he ran his hands through his hair, almost pulling it out if it weren’t for your hands stopping him. You held one of his hands and kept it in your lap.

“It’s okay uncle, I’m not happy about this either” you said. “Money won’t erase anything that’s happening to the two of us, you know that.”

Of course, he knew. You and your uncle could sometimes say that you were born into the wrong family because you were the only ones who didn’t count on money. Even though you knew that your whole life revolved around it. Even though every interaction you had since the day you were born was driven by money. It wasn’t your fault for being born into a family like that, but you could deal with it and think about how you spent what you had.

“How about you come in and get a drink? I bet you’re thirsty” your uncle said quietly, making you look at him after some time of contemplation while still watching people entering and leaving the mansion.

“I think I’ll go in a little while, I want to stay here a little longer” you smiled sadly at the man as he stood up and just waved in your direction. Just as you knew when he wanted some time alone, your uncle was also able to understand when you needed it.

Leaving him and going back into the mansion, you saw him disappear among the little people who had now gone inside the house. You remained there, looking around that immense land that your grandfather owned. One of them, to be more exact. You remember playing with your uncle and your father to guess which was the largest land your grandfather had in his name. Of course, the two older men always let you win, even though it was a rather unfunny game. But it was one of the few moments when the three of you were together, aware of the money you had and trying to make good use of it.

Your body slowly shrank with a small gust of wind, indicating that the weather was changing from sunny to something colder and almost rainy. You looked up at the sky, noticing the clouds beginning to darken. Rain was the last thing you wanted, but maybe you needed it. To wash away all that heaviness you've felt since your grandfather died. Rain could help wash away the dirt that remained beneath your feet and wash away all the bad feelings and burdens you would face in the days to come.

The decision to go back inside wasn't so difficult as your body shrank a little more, curses spilling from your lips as you missed a coat or a blanket that could cover your arms. Just a tank top and silk pants weren't a suitable outfit for the moment, but it was the first thing you could think of to wear when your aunt summoned the whole family to pay homage to your grandfather at his mansion.

You got up from the bench and stretched your whole body, trying to shake off some of the day's exhaustion and thinking about how you wanted to go back to your apartment and take a shower. Get all those sticky, fake hugs off your body. Those words buzzing around in your head lamenting what had happened. No one there really cared, so you at least paid attention to the fake tears in front of you.

You walked in slow steps to the front door, trying to avoid walking in with anyone who might greet you. You didn't want to talk to anyone anymore, just to be there long enough to leave. But your steps were quickly stopped.

Feeling a hand around your waist, you looked up to find your aunt standing in the doorway just as something covered your mouth. It all happened too quickly. Your vision began to blur as you struggled against a body that seemed much bigger than yours. Your hands were useless at grabbing any kind of skin to scratch because the arms holding you were covered.

You don't remember much, but the only thing that didn't leave your mind before passing out was the cynical smile of the woman right in front of you.

“What did she ask for?” Sunghoon was exasperated, pacing back and forth as he looked at your unconscious body on the other side of the room.

“To torture her and get a video of her saying she wants to pass everything on to her aunt…” Jake began.

“First of all, I never agreed to this” he interrupted his friend, controlling himself as much as possible so as not to scream and wake you up. They had just taken off the masks and all the equipment when they laid you down on the small mattress with almost no foam.

“My dad just asked you to help me bring her in, I know.” Jake sighed. “I don’t want to do this either, but—”

“Dude, listen” Sunghoon looked at him. “We can deny this and say fuck you to those four million. Seriously, there’s no way we can continue.”

The desperation in his voice was completely real, Jake could feel it. He was also desperate about all of this, although it wasn’t something new for either of them. But the cruelty in how his aunt was making requests of them without even knowing them or having finished the job. How demanding she was and how she wanted everything to be done as quickly as possible. Sunghoon never had bad feelings about his work, he just went there and killed whoever was necessary. But as soon as he looked at his aunt through the gap in the mask and noticed her smile, the way she behaved in front of the people who were entering the house, without even noticing that he and Jake were carrying her to a black car with no license plate.

He didn't know what he was doing, he didn't know why he had accepted all of that. Sunghoon was breaking one of his biggest rules and all because of money? Four million wouldn't pay for his principles even if his job was one of the worst possible. He already had too much blood on his hands, but that didn't matter when you had a woman unconscious and almost ready to be killed by Jake.

Arguing with Mr. Sim was out of the question, he had already tried since he received the offer and saw the man's eyes light up at the amount. Even though he knew that Sunghoon's biggest criteria were at stake.

"If you're not going to kill her, at least help Jake bring her here" was the only thing he said after finishing the little discussion he had started. He couldn't win this one, he couldn't deny something that he had at least managed to keep going.

Now here he was, pacing back and forth and going over what your aunt wanted Jake to do to you.

For one lousy moment, Sunghoon felt a twinge of regret and compassion for you. Your calm countenance while you were unconscious and the way you seemed harmless, something clicked in his mind telling him that you weren't as bad as the woman said you were. Maybe she'd done the worst kind of propaganda just to make you look bad enough for them to kill you.

"Sunghoon, hey" Jake called out quickly, taking off his black glove and throwing it on the table "What are we going to do?"

"I already told you," Sunghoon sighed once again, stopping walking and feeling his throat irritated because he had already shouted at Jake the whole way "Let's give up that four million, it's not worth it."

"Is that all I'm worth?"

Sunghoon looked in Jake's direction and they both froze. Eyes wide, breathing almost labored as they searched for something to cover their faces. But it was too late. As soon as Sunghoon crossed the room and focused on you, there you were. You were sitting with your back against the wall, your hands tied by the ribbons perched perfectly on your lap. Your hair was completely messed up, but he could still see every detail of your face. How, even so, you looked very beautiful.

"Shit" Jake cursed softly, turning away while Sunghoon stood there staring at him. He felt his friend pull him a few times so that you wouldn't stare so hard at his face that you wouldn't recognize him if something went wrong. But Sunghoon simply couldn't move.

"It's okay, I've seen you. I've been awake for a few minutes" your voice was hoarse, perhaps from lack of use, and because you tried to scream before Sunghoon put the cloth over your mouth to force you to faint.

Jake hesitated to turn around but did so when he saw that his friend wasn't moving at all.

"If you say anything—" Sunghoon made Jake look like he was speaking rudely when he landed a weak punch on his arm. He didn't know why he was defending you like that, not least because that was Jake's role, to be rude at first and gradually hurt whoever was in front of them.

Knowing this, Sunghoon already sensed that he would start being rude until Jake's hands were on you to hurt you. And he didn't want that.

"What did you hear?" Sunghoon addressed you for the first time. His eyes still glazed over at your completely weak and staggering figure in front of him.

He noticed that your eyes were bright, maybe watery, and if you blinked a little more, tears would fall like waterfalls. He was already weak just knowing that he had done this to you, seeing you cry would do what to him? Sunghoon didn't want to know. That case was getting too emotional.

"Just the four million part" you moaned a little in pain as you moved and felt your back crack. That mattress was terrible and you assumed you'd been on it for a long time, but it wasn't important. Your mind was elsewhere and on how you were here, so before you could even think of anything, you asked "It was her, wasn't it?"

"Her who?" Sunghoon and Jake asked at the same time.

For a long minute, you were quiet, just thinking about the little interactions you had with the woman who was supposed to have done this to you. Your heart ached, that wasn't possible. You never thought she could do that.

"My aunt told you two to kill me," you tried to keep your voice steady, "did I?"

It was the turn of the two boys to be silent right in front of you. Jake moistened his lips and tried to find the words to answer you, pondering whether or not to be rude to you. Not least because he didn't want to be punched again by Sunghoon. He swallowed dryly and looked away a few times, wondering whether or not to tell the truth.

"I triple it."

"What?" Jake raised his voice, echoing throughout the room as he looked in your direction and then at Sunghoon.

"I say I'll triple that amount" you moved again, trying to find a more comfortable position on that shitty mattress that was making all your muscles ache "If you don't kill me."

Jake laughed. Nervously, perhaps, but he tried to look a little more cool as he walked towards you and bent down right in front of you. Knees bent enough to bring him close to your face. If you were in the best condition, you could lift your leg and kick him in the knee, only to stagger and fall backward. But you just wanted answers.

"Do you think we're open to negotiations, princess?" he shifted his gaze between your eyes and your mouth but remained in your gaze, which was still sparkling. Jake didn't want to seem arrogant, but that's how he'd been taught.

That's how he learned to deal with that kind of situation, listening to everything and every possible appeal before doing his job. But he never received a counter-proposal, especially one as high as that.

"I don't think you'll even get paid that four million, actually" you looked at him, your voice becoming more and more shaky, "but since the whole inheritance is with me, I'll triple it if you don't kill me."

For a second Jake looked back to Sunghoon for support at that moment. He knew that his friend would probably accept because it would give him the chance to never lay a finger on you.

"Instead, I want you to kill my aunt."

That turn of events was making Jake and Sunghoon's heads spin. Hearts pounding as you let a single tear fall down your cheek. You tried to look convincing and strong talking to two guys who were about to kill you.

But being able to protect yourself was one of the few things you learned because it wasn't the first time someone had approached you out of interest. So why not use the money you had to your advantage? You never thought you'd be able to do that kind of thing, but you'd try anything to make sure no one killed you.

And if the case was to have those who wanted you dead killed, then you'd start with that.

© ikeuverse, 2024. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[majeoeje]

How to wear a Kimono

Tanjiro x fem reader

You’re something that i’ll never grow tired of

Tanjiro frowned upon your reaction. It seems that you weren’t happy at all with his gift... Ah! He should’ve known better! Of course it wasn’t to your liking.. he felt disappointed in himself thinking he had already failed you as a husband.

“I’m so sorry.. i was at the shop when i saw this. Maybe we could browse together sometimes to see another one that fits your preferences?..” He nervously laughed, how he tried to hide his disappointment broke your heart.

“No no! It’s not that i swear!!” You retort. Flailing your hands around in panic, trying to convince your husband that what he thought was not the case at all. “It’s more more than lovely”.

You smiled down the light kimono in your hands. The beautiful fabric felt softer than any of the yukata you have ever worn in your life, you could stare forever at the intricate floral designs on the kimono. It was enchanting how detailed it was while still being subtle. It perfectly matched the beautiful and rich color of the Obi.

Perhaps after a week of being married to you you, Tanjiro had already noticed how you didn’t own any Kimono in your possession. Your side of the closet only contained various versions of your old demon slayer uniforms and some tattered Yukata here and there.

It was a thoughtful gift. You would treasure it forever if you could. But you knew Tanjiro would be a lot happier if he sees you wore and appreciate it rather than to have it sit in the dark to collect dust. But that’s exactly the problem..

“Tanjiro.. i don’t know how to wear a kimono”

Least you could say, the evident expression of disappointment on his face was replaced to one of shock and guilt.

It’s not like he pitied you or anything of sorts. It’s more like he felt guilty that he didn’t put your background into consideration. You had once told him that you were dirt poor. You and your family could barely afford food and shelter. Let alone afford new clothes..

Even as a demon slayer Tanjiro knows that you mainly only worn your demon slayer uniform or the patient attire everytime you’re recovering at the butterfly mansion. Maybe it was for the fact he saw you so less with your homely and normal Yukatas that he couldn’t put 2 and 2 together and come to a realization himself that the first time he actually saw you in a kimono was at your wedding.

So Tanjiro feels that it was rightfully stupid of him to not see that coming.

“I see… but you don’t have to worry about that my love!” Though Tanjiro recovered fast, that bright smile finding it’s way again to the corner of his lips

“‘Cause i’ll be here to teach you”

It was embarrassing to have your husband of all people teach you how to put on your clothes but you weren’t going to decline his help seeing the glimmer in his eyes.

Step 1: Undergarments

Well you can get that down by yourself, though the part you were worried about was to stood in front of Tanjiro in only your undergarments.

But when it finally came to it, you felt an odd sense of security. You didn’t mind his presence at all… maybe it was because of the way Tanjiro prioritized your boundaries above all else in this moment, she doesn’t waste time to oogle at you or say anything. In fact she just smiled at you and moved on. Nudity isn’t something to be embarrassed about in marriage, Tanjiro understood that it was normal and it made you feel safe.

If anything, he was just worried that you might get cold. So he hurried to put on the petty coat of the Kimono.

Step 2: First layer

The next step was the first layer of the Kimono.

“This is the first layer, lift your hands please” he asked, the Nagajuban was ready in his hands

You did as he asked, allowing him to wrap the Nagajuban in place, he did so left over right.

“Can you hold this for me? Your collar needs adjusting”

You nodded, taking the end of the front of the Nagajuban while he adjusted the back of your collar to not touch the back of your neck. You wondered what took him so long for him to just stood there.

“Tanjiro-!”

He got distracted. He just couldn’t help himself but place a kiss in the back of your neck

“Sorry sorry!” He apologized for his surprise attack, despite not being sorry at all. Before he started to wrap the Date-jime on the underwire of your torso.

“Remember, the Date-jime should be on your underwire, not your torso”

“Right..” you say mindlessly, your mind still replaying the kiss he had gave you just a moment ago, as he secured the Date-jime in place, looking at him intently.

But before you could admire him any longer, he was already done.

Step 3: Kimono

Finally you had come to the part where you could put on your Kimono, it would be a lie if you said you weren’t looking forward to it. Though as he slipped the fabric for you, from the sleeves to your torso, you realized that it was long. The fabric of the Kimono reached all the way down to the floor.

“It’s a bit long isn’t it?” You nervously asked, afraid you might stomp on it if you were to wear it outside like this.

“Well don’t worry about that” he lifted the fabric on your bodice to the length of your heel “you’re supposed to wrap it around like this to lift it dear”

He calmly explained, watching your surprised look seeing the kimono secured in place with a Koshi-himo

“Woah! It’s shorter now” you walked to the mirror, as if in awe. Tanjiro finds your child-lie wonder endearing. Though truthfully it wasn’t anything impressive

“It’s nothing special really” he tried to humble himself. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him. He grew up in a big family. Teaching his siblings to dress themselves weren’t much of his duty. But he was willing to do so in order to help his mother. But the fact that he loves his siblings didn’t make it as much as a chore as anyone else think it is, after all he loved them with all his heart. It didn’t need to be his duty. He’d do it no question asked.

Well… he still loves them. He did and he always will.

And now you’re his family too.

Step 3: obi

After securing your Kimono in place Tanjiro carefully wrapped the second Date-jime before securing it in place once again.

“My love, i’ve lost count of the many belts that you had wrapped on my torso by now” you sighed, knowing there’s still more in store for you.

Tanjiro only laughed charmingly before placing a sweet kiss on your cheek.

“We’re almost done, don’t worry”

By now, he had moved to tie your obi for you. The long sash of obi had already been sewn and altered so that you didn’t have to fold it before using it.

You watched Tanjiro’s focused face on your mirror as he stood behind you once again to carefully tie your Obi. You quite didn’t understand how he was able to do that because after defeating Muzan, he wasn’t able to move his regenerated left arm from forearm down, it was quite amazing what he was doing right now. He had been talking for a few minutes about how to tie it, but you weren’t exactly focusing. This time you were the one who was distracted. Your mind wandered to how you had wanted for him to kiss you again. But you knew it was an endless pursuit cause after one and the other, you’d only grown to want more.

Tanjiro moved to tie the Obi-Jime so that your obi wouldn’t fall apart. But it wasn’t before he was done with the finishing part (Obi-age, for a touch of color, some would say) was when he realized you weren’t paying attention. You weren’t paying attention to the kimono at least..

“Did you get that?” Tanjiro tested and with his words you were pulled to reality

“Wha- huh?” You said, finally snapping out of it

“Oh.. i’m sorry Tanjiro. I don’t think i quite understood” you say, only a little guilty.

Maybe other people would be annoyed to be face with this predicament. But Tanjiro was Tanjiro.

“That’s fine” he said, smoothing out a few parts of your Kimono absentmindedly

“In fact you don’t even have to learn”

“Huh? What ever do you mean Tanjiro??”

You were confused at his words, was he angry at you? You wouldn’t say his tone or expression is exactly angry..

“What i mean is that you don’t need to learn how to wear a Kimono because i can just dress you everytime you need” he had said, his beaming smile were brighter than the sun itself.

But his statement was jarring. You couldn’t possibly let him do that!..

“No- no! You can’t possibly do that? I wouldn’t want to burden you..”

After the battle agaisnt Muzan, your body had became injured greatly, least to say some parts doesn’t work as well as it used to. You already need his help as it is and now you’re burdening him with dressing you? That’s unacceptable. And suddenly, it wasn’t about the Kimono anymore, and Tanjiro wasn’t that dense to not notice

“Do you honestly think that i don’t enjoy every second i spent catering to your needs?” He’s so sickeningly sweet. Sometimes it feels like you’re going to get a toothache being married to him.

“Darling, your stubborness is both your best and worst quality” you said, you didn’t know what you did to deserve him.

You held his hands in yours, one was wrinkled and skeletal and the other still had callouses from his days as a demon slayer

“If i could spend the rest of my days to make you happy then i’d be the happiest man alive”

What a waste of precious time. You thought

As same as Tanjiro, you had also unlocked your demon slayer mark. You and Tanjiro didn’t have that much time left, only having a few years till you were 25 years old.

But with so little time you became to realize that you couldn’t help but wish you’d spend it all with him, you know you’d be yearning for more. But how can you not be greedy when this is the person you’re spending the rest of your life with?

“Do you honestly think that i’m not my happiest when i’m with you?” your words paralled his from earlier. Tanjiro couldn’t contain himself but to embrace you, you could basically feel his smile radiating off of him.

Though he was careful to not mess up your Kimono. Not that he wouldn’t fix it for you no matter how messed up it became anyways.

In that moment, he secretely hoped that you would never learn how to wear your Kimono yourself, so that he could just do it for you instead. Not that you objected upon his proposal from earlier.

+bonus:

“Darling, i know how to put on socks already”

He carefully held your feet, slipping the Tabi socks so that it fits perfectly. He had handpicked a geta that perfectly matched your Kimono in advance, wanting to doll you up.

“I know that” you got up instinctively with him. Following his actions were a habit that you hadn’t even realized you developed.

He lead you to the mirror, beaming in excitement to show you the final results.

“Tada!” He beamed. Presenting yourself to the mirror. Though he immediately got distracted upon taking your full image. He could just sigh in awe every moment he looks at you.

“My wife is so beautiful..” he sighed again. Lifting your hands to place multiple kisses on it not wanting to mess up your perfectly done hair and make up.

You and your husband spent an hour dressing yourself up with zero intention of going out. Though Tanjiro still finds it wasteful to ruin your shared efforts just yet.

But maybe that thought quickly dissipated away with the pleading pout on your lips, wanting a kiss.

His face grew red at your expression, he finds you so incredibly adorable, he couldn’t even bring himself to resist you. There were no words needed to bring himself to close the distance

(A/N:I watched multiple tutorials on how to wear a kimono for this fanfic💀💀 it was mainly based on this video tho. Tho i didn’t get into detail and i erased some parts of the Kimono that was used in this video that may not had existed in the Taisho era. If you’re looking for a real tutorial tho, watch here if you’re rlly curious. Also the lady’s voice there was rlly calming lmao i think i almost fell asleep while taking notes and writing this)

[reidmarieprentiss]

Cream Cardigan

Summary: Seeing Spencer in this cardigan.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: use of Y/N

Word count: 550

a/n: foaming at the mouth because of this cardigan

main masterlist

In the soft glow of the jet's landing lights, Spencer stepped off the plane, his movements relaxed, almost leisurely. The team had just wrapped up a particularly exhausting case, and though the weight of the events lingered, Spencer appeared unusually at ease, his posture less tense than usual. Perhaps it had something to do with the new cardigan he was wearing, the fabric light against his skin, almost comforting in its softness. The cardigan was a delicate cream color, embroidered with intricate detailing on the pocket—a piece that seemed both vintage and modern, a blend of Spencer’s unique style.

As you caught sight of him, your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t just the cardigan that drew your attention, though that certainly played a part. There was something about the way Spencer wore it, the way it draped over his slender frame, the sleeves just a tad too long, brushing against his knuckles as he walked. It suited him perfectly, the pale color contrasting with the deep brown of his tousled hair.

You couldn’t help yourself. The words were out of your mouth before you could even think to stop them. “Hey, gorgeous.”

Spencer blinked, his gaze shifting from the tarmac to you, a slight flush creeping up his neck as he processed your words. “Oh, um, hey, Y/N…” he stammered, clearly caught off guard. His usual confidence in intellectual matters didn’t always translate to social interactions, especially when the compliments were so direct.

You smiled, taking a step closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. “I like your cardigan,” you remarked, letting your voice drop just a bit, enough to convey the sincerity behind the compliment.

Spencer’s eyes lit up at your words, his hand instinctively going to the hem of the cardigan as if to adjust it. “Thank you!” he replied, a touch of pride in his voice. “It’s new.”

You nodded, your gaze softening as you looked at him, taking in the way the cardigan seemed to bring out a different side of him, a slightly softer, more relaxed Spencer. “I know,” you said, a teasing note entering your voice. “I definitely would have remembered this one.”

Spencer chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, easing some of the tension between you. “Well, I’m glad you like it,” he said, his voice softer now, almost shy. “I wasn’t sure if it was too much…”

“Not at all,” you reassured him, reaching out to lightly touch the sleeve. The fabric was as soft as it looked, and you could feel the warmth of Spencer’s arm beneath it. “It’s perfect, just like you.”

The compliment hung in the air between you, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there in the dim light of the night. Spencer’s eyes met yours, something unspoken passing between you, a connection that neither of you fully understood but both felt deeply.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Spencer finally said, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze never leaving yours.

You smiled again, your heart swelling at the sight of his shy smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the way the cardigan somehow made him look both younger and wiser at the same time. “Anytime, Spencer,” you replied softly. “Anytime.”

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tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg

[trishmishtree]

First sewing project of 2025 completed!

It's a Vicwardian shirtdress that kind of straddles the lines between historybounding and historical costuming and cosplay.

See, I have made 3-4 blouses/shirtwaists in this style now, and the most irritating thing about them is that they gradually get more and more untucked throughout the day until I'm left with a muffin top spilling over my skirts. So I figured, why not make one that's the bodice of a dress? That way, I can anchor the blouse part down to the waistband so it can't ride up and come untucked, and I can control how much it's allowed to blouse and keep it that way 24/7 since it's stitched down.

^See? Now I won't have to constantly adjust and re-adjust the gathering and pleating into the waistband or tug my shirttails down because I can feel the back of the blouse ballooning out again.

(Almost forgot to mention: yes, the skirt has giant Victorian-style pockets in the side seams. The dress was 99% hand sewn, mostly because I was working on it while out of town without access to my machine, but also because when I got home and tried to attach a facing to the pockets, my machine decided 3 layers of this shirting-weight cotton twill fabric was too much to handle and broke down. So thanks for that, pockets. Now I have to find a repair shop or replacement machine.)

And bonus: the skirt can be worn as is, or it can function as a petticoat under a separate skirt I can wear over the dress. If I make a floor-length walking skirt to wear over this shirtdress, and maybe a waistcoat and/or an Eton jacket, then I'll have a convincing enough 1890s-1900s ensemble for historical costuming purposes.

Oh, and in case you can't tell, the bodice design with the diagonal pintucks in the yoke is inspired by the outfit that Elphaba wears in her "The Wizard and I" sequence from the new movie. She wears this gauzy, crinkle chiffon-looking blouse under a black jumper dress, and the visible parts of the blouse look like they're bias cut, with some kind of pintucked or micro-pleated texture.

I basically spent the last month and change drooling over the costuming and wanting Elphaba's entire wardrobe. I don't think I'll be accurately recreating any of her actual costumes, but I like to think that my new shirtdress *could* potentially be something she'd wear.

Oh, and here's a detail of the lower sleeves on my dress. Elphaba's usually wearing all black, so the movie costumers played a lot with the texture of the fabrics on her clothing. They were inspired by mushrooms and other earthy textures, so her dresses have a more organic look than what I have going on here. I didn't have enough fabric to play around with, so I figured I'd just give honeycomb smocking a try, and I'm shocked at how well these sleeves preserve body heat in the winter.

Now all I need to do is make her hat and maybe sew a cloth facemask from green fabric and my 2025 office-appropriate Halloween costume will be good to go.

[himasgod]

Scaramouche x Reader

Where you find him making a toy that looks like him

The sunset enveloped the horizon in orange and pink hues as you walked through Sumeru City. The usual bustle of the merchants was beginning to subside, leaving in its place a calm that was only interrupted by the sound of your footsteps. You knew where to find him: he always looked for the secluded places, where the noise of the world couldn’t reach him. This time was no different.

There he was, sitting next to a small toy workshop, watching an old man sew a tiny cloth figurine. The Wanderer, or Scaramouche, as you had known him long ago, had taken a break from his incessant wandering to learn something as simple as creating toys. But even in that moment of stillness, his countenance showed the constant struggle against his thoughts.

You approached carefully, stopping a few steps away before speaking.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” you said softly, trying not to break the fragile peace that surrounded him.

Scaramouche looked up slowly, his amethyst eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and caution. Then, he returned his attention to the cloth figure in his hands, handling it carefully.

“Why am I not surprised that you always appear when I least expect it?” he replied, his tone filled with that usual irony, but with a softer tone than he usually showed.

You sat down beside him, looking at the toy he had been making. It was a small doll that, although simple, had a sweet and detailed expression. There was something almost endearing about seeing him dedicate himself to something so mundane.

“It’s pretty. It looks like you” you commented, pointing at the doll.

“It’s just fabric and stuffing,” he replied, but out of the corner of your eye you noticed his hands holding it carefully. “Nothing important.”

“Why I get the feeling that you’re reflecting yourself? but you know that’s not true,” you replied, fixing your gaze on him.

For a moment, it looked like he was going to retort with one of his usual barbs, but his silence was enough to understand that you had touched something deep. He looked down, his fingers playing with the edges of the fabric.

“There are things that can’t be fixed, no matter how hard you try,” he finally murmured, his voice lower, laden with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

“Maybe not everything can be fixed, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying,” you told him, with a calm firmness.

“If you didn’t believe that, you wouldn’t be here doing this."

So, you grabbed the thread, some stuffing, and sewing materials from Scaramouche's hands. You brushed your hair out of your face and with a cheerful smile, you said to Scaramouche:

"Come on! Let's finish sewing that doll. I'm sure it will turn out perfect!"

The wind blew softly, carrying with it the dry leaves that decorated the street. For a moment, the two of you remained silent. Finally, Scaramouche looked up at you, his eyes shining with something you couldn’t quite identify.

“You’re irritating,” he murmured, but this time his tone was devoid of harshness. It was almost… an acknowledgement.

You smiled, knowing that this small gesture was his way of thanking you.

Just like you were sewing his doll now, you could also sew his heart, dont you?

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 4/?)

Suffocating slowly, you can't tell if it's the gas enveloping you or Silco's grip tightening around your throat. The choice is yours to make.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 4,8K

Warnings: use of sedative gas, slight hints of reader's past, emotional manipulation, death of secondary characters being referenced, attempted murder, possessive behavior, you work in the brothel. Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Hear me out: Silco wearing a gas mask just like Jinx in episode 6 of the first season… just keep that in mind. Heavily inspired by episodes 6 and 7 btw. Just to be clear, don't romanticize his lines, at this point Silco still has a distorted and obsessive vision. No smut today because we need to develop some good old angst, but don't worry we'll get back to normal programming in the next chapter. And yes, the protagonist, in this case you readers, has a past. But you will only find out as the story progresses.

You were a woman on a mission.

Your footsteps echoed rhythmically through Zaun's narrow, filthy alleys. The sound of your boots striking the ground reverberated in your head like a war drum, announcing your arrival. You moved forward without hesitation, without asking for permission, without sparing a single glance at the faces around you. They stared, and you knew it. You could feel their curious, distrustful eyes glued to you, murmuring among themselves, but it didn't matter. Not this time.

You never liked drawing attention. You always preferred to stay in the shadows, invisible, and that was one of your mottos: "don't be seen." It always worked well—until now. But in that moment, it felt as though every step was a shout, every movement a challenge, and you had no intention of hiding today.

Between the moment you fell to your knees in front of that bloodied necklace and the early hours of the morning when you collapsed into bed, exhausted from reliving your last conversation with Kate—a conversation you didn't know would be the last—something inside you broke. It wasn't a simple break. It was a tear, a deep cut in your very essence. The pain of loss, mingled with raw fury, was a burning fire consuming any rationality.

Grief didn't bring tears. You felt its weight like a stone crushing your chest, but no tears came. There was no room for them. Only a deadly silence that now transformed into something stronger, something uncontrollable.

In the stages of grief, denial had given way to anger, and it was driving you.

Your face was set, neutral, but your mind could be likened to a grenade pin about to be pulled. Your fists clenched, your shoulders tense under the weight of the coat you wore—a coat that wasn't yours but carried the scent of something now fueling your courage.

Silco's coat.

It wasn't made for you; it hung loosely on your shoulders and the sleeves were too long. But, strangely, it felt like it belonged to you now. Every fold, every detail, as if the fabric itself had been shaped to herald your arrival. It didn't matter that it was misaligned or drew attention. You wore it as a statement.

If Vander could see you, he'd probably give you the biggest lecture of your life. He'd accuse you of being reckless, of acting without thinking, of repeating the mistakes he'd spent years trying to correct. You could almost hear his voice, firm and grave, echoing in the Last Drop as he placed a glass of that sweet drink he always made in front of you. But Vander was dead, and the dead don't get disappointed.

Your stride was interrupted when your shoulder collided with a burly man standing by a stall of questionably sourced weapons. He stopped abruptly, glaring at you with an irritated expression. He made a move to grab your arm, but the motion froze halfway through. His eyes landed on the coat.

And then he hesitated.

It wasn't just him. It felt as though Zaun's alleys themselves had paused to observe you. The symbol you bore on your shoulders—the symbol that coat represented—spoke for itself. Everyone knew to whom that garment belonged. And everyone knew that no one, absolutely no one, wore something of Silco's without a clear reason.

The man stepped back. Others averted their gaze, some whispered among themselves. But you pressed forward, ignoring them.

Your destination finally came into view, each step bringing you closer to the entrance of the Last Drop. The place, once so inviting and familiar, now seemed more menacing than ever. The green lights pulsed on the façade as if trying to scorch your retinas—far too extravagant for your taste. You rolled your eyes. It was as if the very place needed to shout Silco's name through its décor.

"Egotistical." you muttered to yourself, feeling a smirk of derision tug at the corners of your mouth. He didn't even need all that ostentation; after all, no one would dare question his power or accuse him of compensating for some insecurity. Silco didn't seem to have those kinds of apparent weaknesses, and that was exactly what made him so dangerous.

As you stopped in front of the door, one of the guards immediately blocked your path. The man raised his arm in a sharp gesture, enough to make any ordinary person step back. He was massive, twice your size, with muscles that seemed to strain the fabric of his shirt. But you weren't the restrained version of yourself anymore, the one who would hesitate or retreat before any intimidating figure to avoid drawing attention to herself. No. Dealing with Silco had taught you one thing: no matter the size of the predator, you need to learn how to bite back. You needed to be as dangerous as him. Or at least pretend to be.

"We're closed." the tattooed man declared, his voice deep and loaded with menace.

You sighed, theatrical, as if he had just bored you to death. "If you hadn't warned me..." your voice dripped with sarcasm. As you spoke, your eyes assessed him carefully. Something about him seemed... familiar.

The guard frowned, impatient. "Then get lost!" the sharpness in his voice might have been intimidating, but there was something else there. A hint of hesitation that didn't escape your notice.

"Oh, I think I remember you..." you tilted your head slightly, letting a sly smile curve your lips. "Yes, I do. You were one of Silco's men sent to the brothel, weren't you?"

The man stiffened, exchanging glances with his companion beside him. You stepped forward, closing the distance even more. He backed off slightly, which only increased your satisfaction. Being associated with Silco had its advantages, after all.

"Well, as you might know, he and I are... quite close." your voice was barely a whisper, but it carried weight and intention. "And even if I can't see him today, it's only a matter of time before he comes to me."

You pretended to examine your nails as if he were beneath your full attention. Every movement was calculated, a meticulous performance designed to fray his nerves. "Now, I can't help but wonder how he'd react knowing one of his men stopped me from paying a surprise visit... He'd be so... disappointed."

You raised your eyes slowly, peering at him through your lashes. The smile on your lips was sadistic, almost cruel. It wasn't the real you—not even close—but the mask you wore seemed to do the trick. The tattooed man swallowed hard, visibly shaken.

"You know, right? It's not wise to disappoint men like Silco," you continued, letting each word hang in the air like a veiled threat. "The consequences tend to be... unpleasant."

The man hesitated, his gaze flickering from you to the coat you wore and then to his companion beside him. The tension was palpable, and the silence that followed was almost as satisfying as the victory that came next.

"Take the stairs to the second floor," he finally relented, his voice slightly unsteady. "He's in the office, last door down the hall."

"Good," you replied with disdain, already turning to walk through the entrance. Before continuing, though, you paused and glanced back over your shoulder. "Oh, and make sure no one interrupts us."

Your voice was cold, imbued with an authority that wasn't yours by right but one you stole with the ease of someone who had learned to survive among wolves. The guard nodded, still hesitant, but stepped aside and shut the door behind you.

You let your gaze wander through the bar, a creeping discomfort snaking up your spine like a sly serpent. Everything felt out of place despite being right where it belonged. As if someone had stripped the soul from the space, leaving only an empty shell devoid of warmth or life. The Last Drop had once buzzed with the communal energy of Zaun—now, every corner seemed consumed by shadows that whispered how misplaced you were here. You were a puzzle piece left over, trying to fit where there was no longer space.

Still, your eyes searched for echoes of the past. The turntable, the pool table in the center, the spot where Vander's gauntlets used to hang near the bar. But those details were now distant memories, almost unreal. It was hard to believe that the last time you'd been here was three years ago, when you said goodbye to him. Vander, with that warm smile and his damned bear hug, had made you promise you'd come back to Zaun. What a bitter irony. You'd returned. But he wasn't here anymore.

When a pang of sadness threatened to surface, you clenched your teeth and forced your legs to move. You climbed the stairs quickly, refusing to let your thoughts drown you. The place was empty, perhaps because of the time of day, you thought. Everyone knew criminals preferred the cover of night, and the morning silence made each step you took echo louder than it should.

You stopped in front of Silco's door. For the first time, you hesitated before knocking. This was a point of no return; whatever happened in that room would alter the course of your life forever, though you couldn't tell if it would be for better or worse. Like everything in your life, it was a risky gamble you were willing to take.

Two knocks, followed by a muffled "Enter," were the last sounds you heard before pushing the door open and stepping directly into Silco's lair.

Silco's office was a flawless extension of his personality: stylish, shadowy, decadent, and steeped in a subtle theatricality that seemed to bury old traumas beneath layers of sophistication. The walls, painted in dark tones, absorbed more light than they reflected, and the few points of brightness came from meticulously arranged objects on his desk or trinkets scattered throughout the room. It was as if every piece had been chosen to construct a personal fortress, a space where he could simultaneously conceal his scars and display his power.

The greenish light streaming from the window behind his desk served as the main source of illumination, casting the room in a cold, almost icy atmosphere, with hues that seemed to seep into your very bones.

You found him at the heart of his domain, seated in his chair like a king upon his throne. His posture was impeccable—his back pressed against the chair, one arm resting casually at his side, while the other held a set of files. He seemed completely absorbed in the documents, but as soon as he registered your presence, he lifted his gaze with a calmness that was almost insulting. What truly caught your attention, however, was how his eyes roamed over your body, taking in every detail like a collector assessing a prized piece. He was subtle, as always, but you knew that look all too well. Beneath the mask of indifference, there was something deeper, more intense: the fire of his possessiveness burning behind those irises.

"You made quite a scene coming here." his voice reverberated off the walls, low and controlled, but with a weight that made your skin prickle. There was no overt irritation in his tone—just an observation he seemed to find almost amusing. "Especially dressed like that." he gestured vaguely toward the oversized coat you wore, the heavy fabric hanging awkwardly off your frame. "If your intention was to draw attention, congratulations. You succeeded."

"As if you care..." the retort slipped out effortlessly, polished but devoid of any humor. You remained standing, still debating whether the moment called for a direct attack or if you should continue with the dance of provocations. "People were already whispering about the 'whore' you took for yourself. I just gave the rumors a face."

Silco's eyes glinted with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. He tilted his head slightly, like a predator sizing up its prey. "It was reckless."

"I don't deny it." you shrugged with the nonchalance of someone who couldn't care less, taking a few steps forward over the carpet that seemed to swallow the sound of your movements. "But in the end, nothing would've happened to me, right? I know you sent your men to escort me. They're not exactly subtle."

It was pure bluff. You had no proof that Silco had actually assigned bodyguards to shadow your every move without your knowledge, but it was a safe bet. He seemed intent on maintaining absolute control over every aspect of your life, directly or indirectly. And even if you were wrong, it didn't matter.

For a moment, his eyes narrowed, a flicker of recognition passing across his face. He knew you were bluffing—of course, he knew. Unraveling lies was an art he had mastered. But, curiously, he didn't challenge you. He allowed you to keep that advantage, perhaps more intrigued by your audacity than inclined to argue.

"I take precautions," he finally said, his voice as firm as the steel that held Zaun together. "Zaun is no place for recklessness. Especially for someone who insists on testing the limits."

You crossed your arms, feigning indifference to the implicit threat. "And don't you live by testing limits, Silco? Seems a bit... hypocritical, coming from you."

The provocation had the desired effect. Silco rose slowly, every movement calculated, as though pondering the best way to deal with your defiance. The chair swiveled slightly behind him as he made his way toward you, circling the desk with the grace of a predatory feline. Leaning against its edge, right in front of you, his proximity made the air thicker. Without even touching you, his presence seemed to fill every corner of the room. Your heart pounded in your chest—perhaps from fear, perhaps from expectation, or something else you refused to acknowledge.

"I know my limits." his voice was barely above a whisper but carried the weight of an unspoken threat. He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly while keeping his gaze locked on yours. "And I assure you, I know exactly how to hold them. The question, dove, is: do you know yours?"

You rolled your eyes in disdain.

"Don't lecture me about limits, Silco. Not after the damage you caused." your voice lashed out, brimming with restrained fury, though the subtle tremor in your hands betrayed you. Every fiber of your being screamed to close the distance between you, to make him feel at least a fragment of the pain that consumed your chest. "You killed her."

"I did." the response came so simple, so direct, that it seemed to rip the air from your lungs. There wasn't a trace of regret in his voice, no shadow of remorse in his eyes. It was as if he had admitted something trivial, like the day being overcast.

"You're not even going to deny it?"

"I gain nothing by denying something you already know." Silco seemed disinterested, even bored, as though the entire scene was just another interruption in his meticulously planned day. He studied you, but not cautiously. "I gave her a chance."

You laughed, but the sound was hollow, cruel—a desperate attempt to mock his words. "A chance? Let me guess: you gave her the privilege of choosing how to die, right? The options: crushed by your brute or burned alive in the fire you started yourself."

Silco remained impassive, as though your words had slipped off him without leaving a mark. If anything affected him, it was well hidden. In fact, he seemed... satisfied. Satisfied to see you unravel, to witness the internal war you were waging against yourself. "I gave her a chance," he repeated, his voice low, as if explaining something simple to an impatient child. "I would have killed her that day, but I respected what you said. If she had let go of you, I would have left her alone. I am not the irrational monster you imagine me to be."

He uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, the sound of his shoes echoing in the silent room. The proximity made your heart race, but it wasn't fear. It was something more visceral—hatred, perhaps. Your gaze burned, but his was pure ice, an impenetrable force that seemed to crush any opposition. "I don't control the feelings others have for you." he continued, his voice laden with an almost suffocating intensity, "But I can control who gets close. Your friend, Kate, made a choice."

You stood firm, but the weight of his words pressed down on you. "She chose you." His declaration was final, a verdict. "And that was her mistake."

Silco stared at you with the same resolute expression you had learned to despise and, in some ways, admire. He wasn't lying—not this time. It was hard to accept, but you knew that beneath the layers of manipulation and cruelty, Silco possessed a brutally objective honesty. He spoke the truth not because he cared to be honest but because it gave him an advantage. He knew the impact his words would have.

The ache in your chest intensified. The conclusion was bitter: Kate had died because she chose you. She chose to trust, to love, or perhaps just to believe there was something in you worth the sacrifice. And that choice destroyed her.

"Don't blame yourself." Silco's voice was lower now, almost as if he were trying to offer some form of comfort. But his words, no matter how carefully chosen, found no place to settle within you. "Eventually, you'll understand this was for the best. It was for your own good."

You stared at him, your breathing heavy, your chest rising and falling in a rhythm that betrayed your effort to stay in control. He didn't see the error in what he had done. To him, everything was calculated, justified, as if the ends always justified the means.

"For my own good?" Your voice came out incredulous, even shocked if you analyzed its tone. Silco didn't respond. He only looked at you, as though daring you to continue. The silence was unbearable, and you felt anger rise like a wave ready to break. "You destroy everything you touch, Silco. No matter how much you try to mask it with promises of control or security. In the end, you leave nothing but ruins behind."

He didn't blink, didn't look away, maintaining that glacial indifference that seemed so natural to him. It was as though your words were just a distant hum, insignificant, incapable of penetrating the fortress of his composure. But you knew. Deep down, something had been struck. You saw it in the way his gaze hardened, if only for a moment, like a slight crack in a marble surface. You didn't know exactly what your words had touched, but you knew they had left a mark. And even so, he remained unshaken, fixed, silent, as he stared at you with that overwhelming intensity.

"Just like you."

His words shattered the silence with an almost tangible weight. They sounded vague, but you understood. Oh, God, how you understood.

You instinctively stepped back, as if distance could soften the blow you'd just received. Your heels hit the coffee table, causing something to fall and shatter on the floor. The sound of breaking glass reverberated through the room, but it felt like a distant echo, unimportant. If he had slapped you across the face, it would have hurt less than that. Because they weren't just words—they carried a knowledge you had forced yourself to forget long ago.

The question escaped before you could stop it, almost a whisper filled with disbelief: "How do you...?"

He didn't answer immediately. He only tilted his head slightly, his eyes analyzing every nuance of your reaction. Finally, he responded, with that infamous tone of casualness that made your blood boil. "I have my ways."

It was a deliberately vague answer, and the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips confirmed it. A small smile, almost imperceptible, but laden with satisfaction. He knew exactly what he had done. He saw the impact of his words, saw how they carved a hole inside you, and he savored it. Just as you had wounded him moments before, he now returned the attack. And worse, he relished your reaction.

"I know more about you than you think, dove."

Silco took a step closer, shortening the distance with the precision of a meticulous predator cornering its prey. There was something predatory about his movements—calculated, yet fluid—as though he had all the time in the world to ensnare you. Your body froze, rooted to the spot. It was as if the floor had turned to cement and you had become a statue. Your mind screamed frantic commands for your legs to move, but no muscle obeyed. You were trapped there, staring into the headlights of an oncoming train.

"Out there, it's full of people who would use you and discard you without a second thought." His voice was low, almost a whisper, yet each word carried a weight that seemed to crush the air around you. He tilted his head slightly, his narrowed eyes studying every nuance of your reaction. "You know that. You've been discarded before."

He spoke your name slowly, every syllable laden with an unsettling intimacy. It wasn't the nickname he usually used but your true name—and it hit like a weapon in his hands. For some reason, it felt even more intimidating, more personal, as though he were dismantling any layer of defense you might have had.

"I am the only one who has truly protected you so far," he continued, taking another step toward you. The greenish glow from the window fell across his broad shoulders, outlining his silhouette in a way that made him seem even more imposing. The interplay of light and shadow obscured parts of his expression but highlighted that piercing orange iris like a beacon drawing you toward the abyss—dangerous and yet irresistibly captivating. "The only one who sees your worth. Who understands what you're capable of."

He stood directly in front of you now. The greenish light enveloped him fully, casting a distorted halo around him. The sight should have made you shudder, but instead, you found yourself mesmerized by the corrupted celestial image before you.

"I am the only one who knows exactly what you need."

Silco was a serpent, sinuous and treacherous, slithering gently around you while tightening his coils, slowly and methodically squeezing the breath out of you. You knew you needed to break free, to shatter this venomous cycle, but something always held you captive. It wasn't love, nor any twisted imitation of the feeling. It was something darker—a torment intertwined with obsession. A bond that consumed you, toxic and painful like a razor's edge slicing through your skin. And yet, you allowed yourself to be cut, drawn to the danger, to the chaos.

To him.

"Why me?" Your voice broke the silence, taut with tension, like a rope ready to snap. "You could have anyone else."

Your gaze flicked downward for a moment, and then you saw it. Silco's gun, resting within reach in its holster—a solution gleaming like a beacon through the fog of conflicting emotions. Your mind screamed that this was your chance. One movement. One shot. And it would all be over.

Silco tilted his head slightly, following your gaze. "You've already answered your question, dove."

His smile was dangerous, filled with certainty and malice, yet he made no move to push the gun away. He seemed perfectly aware of where your eyes had landed, but as always, he played the game on his own terms. Then he raised his hands, placing them around your face with a disturbingly gentle touch. It was an intimate gesture, almost reverent, but laced with power.

"Anyone but you." his voice was low, a whisper laden with a disconcerting truth. You didn't know whether to believe him or to run. Silco's gaze locked onto yours, hungry, as if he could strip your soul bare and devour whatever he found. There was something primal in his eyes, a raw desire that threatened to consume everything around him.

"You have it in you." the statement came out almost like a prayer, but there was something darker beneath the words. His eyes roamed over your face, attuned to every flicker of emotion, as his thumb traced a slow path across your lower lip, sending a shiver down your spine. "No one challenges me the way you do. No one makes me feel alive the way you do."

The world seemed to shrink until only the two of you remained. He leaned in, close enough that your lips almost touched, but not quite. The proximity was suffocating, his every breath mingling with yours.

"You wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger on me, would you?" his words were low, tinged with a dark amusement, while his eyes gleamed with a twisted delight. "So, tell me..." he tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely curious about your answer. "Where would you aim? The chest, or the head?"

It was those words that triggered something in you—a switch that should never have been flipped.

The world slowed, as if time had been captured in a slow-motion sequence unfolding right before your eyes. A fragment of reason, and something else you hadn't felt in ages, broke through the chaos in your mind, commanding your body for one fleeting second—the single second of adrenaline you needed to act. Instinct took over, focusing solely on eliminating the threat in front of you. That familiar tingling sensation sparked in your eyes, a sensation you hadn't felt in years. There was no stopping it now.

With one hand, you shoved Silco hard, pushing those burning hands away from your skin, while the other reached for the gun strapped to his holster. You barely registered the sound of him hitting the wooden table—that was all you needed to aim precisely where he stood.

Silco was right, after all.

You didn't hesitate.

The sound of the gunshot exploded in the room, loud and deafening. The recoil jolted your arms, and the echo reverberated like thunder in your head. For a moment, everything was silent except for the sharp ringing in your ears. Your fingers loosened, and the gun slipped from your hand, clattering to the floor with a metallic clang.

You felt your nose begin to bleed, the sensation of the recoil never pleasant, but it wasn't until the tingling in your eyes subsided that you realized they had closed. An involuntary reaction, an attempt to refuse to face what was about to happen. As if shutting your eyes could somehow erase the consequences.

Slowly, almost as if afraid of what you'd see, you opened your eyes. But what you found wasn't blood or a fallen body. It was a thick green smoke hanging in the air, swirling ominously. Before you could react, the substance invaded your nostrils, burning your lungs with a heavy, suffocating sensation. You tried to cover your face with your hands, but it was already too late.

Whatever the smoke was, it acted almost instantly.

A violent cough overtook you. Your body convulsed, your lungs ablaze as you desperately tried not to breathe in more of the noxious fumes. Your knees gave out, and you collapsed to the floor, your legs unable to support your weight. Everything around you began to spin, and a crushing sensation engulfed every fiber of your being. Your vision started to darken, the world around you fading as you fought futilely against the creeping unconsciousness.

"A shot to the head. Quick and merciful..." Silco's voice echoed distantly, muffled, as though it was coming from a dream. "How fascinating."

You thought you were hallucinating. Maybe it was just the smoke, warping your perception, but then you saw him. Silco's imposing figure emerged from the green haze. He walked slowly, each step resonating like a drumbeat in your head. The gas mask covering his face was confirmation of what you should have suspected: he had planned everything. From the very beginning—every word, every provocation, the gun most likely tampered with—it had all been calculated to lead you to this exact moment. You had fallen into his trap.

He crouched in front of you, observing in silence. When your body finally gave out, unable to resist any longer, and your mind faltered, your resistance shattering like broken glass, his eyes were the last thing you saw before slipping into unconsciousness.

Even on the brink of oblivion, you were aware when he pulled you close. Silco's arms, surprisingly warm and firm, enveloped your limp body with a strength that was both possessive and oddly comforting. There was something cruelly gentle in the gesture, as if he were cradling a precious object that was rightfully his. You felt the faint touch of his fingers gliding through your hair—a distorted, profoundly wrong caress, yet somehow... familiar.

"You're safe now, dove."

Part 5

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[brodygold]

A Game For Bros

Nate and I had always been the same: two nerds, caught up in our own world of video games, D&D, and sci-fi movies. He’d been my best friend since high school, a skinny guy with messy brown hair, always wearing some oversized t-shirt of a superhero. Me? I wasn’t much different. Shorter, stockier, and always in retro game tees. We never got into sports—couldn’t care less, really. But that Saturday, when Nate invited me over to check out a new game, we did something a bit out of our comfort zone.

“I don’t usually go for sports games,” I said as I plopped onto his worn-out couch. The game case for The Golden Army: Rise of Champions sat on the coffee table, glowing in a strange golden light. “What made you pick this one?”

Nate shrugged as he plugged in the system. “The reviews were insane, man. People say it’s super immersive, like you actually feel the game.”

“Sounds cool enough,” I muttered, grabbing a soda. “Let’s see what it’s about.”

Nate’s apartment looked the same as always—cluttered with comic books, action figures, and old consoles. The screen flashed on, bathing the room in golden light as the title appeared: The Golden Army: Rise of Champions. The graphics were sharp, but what immediately caught my attention was how detailed the avatar customization was. We both laughed as we started making characters that were basically us but... stronger, taller, more athletic.

“Man, I wish I was this ripped in real life,” I said, chuckling as I bulked up my avatar.

Nate nodded, not looking up from his controller. “Same here, dude. If only, right?”

Once the game started, though, things got weird fast. It wasn’t like any sports game I’d ever played. It was too smooth, too real. Every movement of my character felt like it was coming from me, like my body was somehow connected to the screen. Nate was feeling it too; I could tell by how focused he’d gotten.

“This feels insane,” I muttered, my fingers flying over the controller as my avatar sprinted down the field. My skin tingled, and for a second, I thought it was just adrenaline from getting into the game.

“Yeah, it’s like... I can *feel* it,” Nate said, his voice lower, more serious than usual.

What I didn’t realize was that I really *was* feeling it. I was changing. My arms, once stocky but kind of soft, were slowly growing harder, leaner, and stronger. My biceps pushed against the fabric of my t-shirt, but I didn’t notice at first. I was too absorbed in the game. Nate wasn’t paying attention either, but he was changing too. His scrawny arms were swelling, his chest growing more defined, the lines of muscle slowly becoming visible under his shirt.

My legs were thickening, my calves bulging as they hardened. Nate’s shoulders broadened as his posture straightened, more relaxed, confident. His shaggy hair started to shift, styling itself into something neater and more athletic. It suited him.

Our avatar dominated the field. Every pass, every kick felt like it was coming straight from us. By the time the match ended, I noticed my t-shirt was stretched tight against my chest, clinging to muscles I didn’t remember having. But it felt normal. Like I’d always been this way. Nate was the same. His shirt had morphed into something sleeker, a fitted gold soccer jersey. I looked down, realizing mine had changed too. I wasn’t in my retro game tee anymore—I was in a gold jersey too, my name stitched across the back.

But we didn’t freak out. We didn’t question it. Why would we? We’d always been jocks, right? That’s how we met in the first place.

“Yo, that was sick, bro!” I grinned at Nate, flexing my now-defined arms. “We totally crushed that game.”

Nate smirked, his voice deeper now, his body lean and athletic. “Hell yeah, man. No one can take us down.”

The room around us had changed too, though we didn’t notice with how invested in the game we were. Gone were the stacks of comics and games. Instead, soccer trophies lined the shelves, photos of us in our golden jerseys, posing as champions of The Golden Army. It was as if our old lives had been erased, replaced entirely by something new.

As we kept playing, our minds continued to shift. I didn’t care about D&D or sci-fi movies anymore. All I could think about was training, getting stronger, being the best. Nate, once shy and quiet, was now exuding confidence. We were athletes, teammates, brothers on and off the field.

Our bodies had finished transforming. I looked over at Nate, admiring how ripped he was now. His short hair was clean, his jawline sharp. He looked... good. Really good. The thought lingered longer than it should have, but I didn’t push it away. Why would I? We’d always been close, but now there was something else there, something that had shifted between us.

I felt my heart race as I caught him looking at me the same way, his eyes lingering on my chest, my arms. The air between us felt electric, like something was pulling us together.

“Yo, Nate,” I started, feeling my pulse quicken. “You ever feel like... there’s more between us than just the game?”

Nate turned to me, his eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, the room was silent. Then he smirked, but there was something softer in his gaze. “Yeah, bro. I’ve been feeling that too.”

It happened without thinking. I reached out, grabbing his hand, and suddenly, I was pulling him closer. Our eyes met, and before I could stop myself, I kissed him. His lips were warm, firm, and everything clicked into place. It was like this was always meant to happen. Like this was who we were supposed to be.

When we finally pulled away, both of us were breathing hard. Nate looked at me, his grin returning. “Damn, bro. That was... intense.”

“Yeah,” I replied, still catching my breath. “But I think we’ve always had this, right? Just took us a while to figure it out.”

Nate nodded, his hand still on my chest, his thumb brushing against the fabric of my jersey. “Always. And now? We’ve got everything we need.”

We leaned in again, and this time, it felt even more right. We were no longer the nerdy duo, lost in games and fantasy worlds. We were champions—alpha jocks, leaders of The Golden Army—and we had found each other. As I held Nate close, our golden jerseys shining in the light, I knew that everything was just how it should be.

“Now how about round 2, bro?”

“Oh, you’re so on bro!”

[finnglas]

So I can't remember if I voted in the 2016 election.

I voted in the primaries, I remember that. For Bernie actually. I didn't like Hillary; I fell for the decades of smear campaigns. The right wing has been shining a spotlight on any real, perceived, or straight up fabricated less than savory detail about her since she was a political advocate in college in Arkansas who insisted on wearing pants when pants were not "professional" for women. And I, old enough to know better, fell for it.

2015 and 2016 were two of the hardest personal years of my life. I had lost my job, my cats had been super sick, we'd spent tens of thousands of dollars trying to pinpoint a mysterious health problem my partner was having, my mom had to have surgery on a crushed vertebrae -- there was a lot. I was exhausted, I wasn't excited by the Democratic candidate, and the polls all said Hillary had it in the bag. I meant to vote. I thought about it. But to this day, I don't know if I actually did. I have a sneaking suspicion that I didn't, that I ran out of time because I kept putting it off. My memory has trauma shaped holes in it, though, and I don't know for sure.

I do remember the gut punch of the election results though. I remember the breath stealing feeling of panic. I remember writing electors and asking them not to certify. I remember donating to Jill fucking Stein who said she was going to sue over the scandal with the voting machines.

(She did not; she kept that money for herself like the grifter she is.)

Most of all I remember crying for the entire month of January, because I knew what a Trump presidency meant. I watched as multiple queer and trans friends contemplated - and in some cases, carried through - plans for suicide because they were so terrified for what would happen to them under that government. (Note: I understand the impulse, but please do not do their job for them if you can help it. They don't deserve that and neither do you.) The trauma of several online contacts not existing anymore because they took what they saw as an emergency exit.

And I don't remember if I voted. I am haunted by the suspicion that I and others like me simply were not excited about the candidate we had, and had other concerns that took precedence. We relied on everyone else showing up in our place. Friends, there is no one else to show up in your place. You are the only person who can cast your vote.

If I could go back to 2016 now, I would drag my ass off the couch and go stand in line for however long it took, because not voting means I was complicit. It means I did not stand in the way of the damage I saw coming. I did not take what action was available to me to prevent or reduce harm.

I will never do that again. And honestly? You shouldn't either. There is no scenario in which handing over our basic safety without even the bare minimum of resistance is the moral high ground. It is just regret waiting to happen.

I know what I'm talking about on this one, ok?

Thanks for listening.

[neuvilette-tea-party]

Hi! I just wanted to share that I love your writing, I've been reading all of your Steb fics!! And I just saw that you like Neuvilette too! And I couldn't help but wanted to share this thought with you because I feel like you'd understand the vision haha, because I feel like it works for both Steb and Neuvilette!

Idk if you know Final Fantasy or seen Final Fantasy 10 but there's this really romantic scene between the two main characters where they shared a kiss while swimming in a really beautiful glowing lake and I couldn't help but see Steb or Neuvilette doing it as well, especially with how beautiful the underwater in Fontaine can be

It's this scene if you'd never seen it!

https://youtu.be/Enx5R5FNXMo?si=-_UV3xt9pnOmaGXb

I just wanted to share it with you in case it inspires you in some way haha, always enjoying your writing, keep up the good work!

- Fishy Anon 🐟

Hi Fishy anon🐟❤️Aaaaaaw❤️ It's so cute and soft 🥹 It inspires me for best boy Steb❤️

₊ ˙ ⊹Steb x F!reader₊ ˙ ⊹

Tags : Fluffy fluff, swimming in a cave, deep kisses, hugs, reader does not know how to swim but Steb is here to help, cozy

You remain on the edge of the lake, dissing your nails in the fabric of your shorts as Steb’s head pierces the water, swimming towards you lazily, only his eyes visible like a crocodile. You smile and crouch down, your arms around your knees. 

“The waters looks delicious but I do not know Steb.” 

Steb stops a mere meter from the bank, looking at you intently, awaiting for you to join in those turquoise waters to swim together. He signs and you chuckle. 

“No, I am not worried by the water’s temperature, it’s just... I never really learned to swim... ever.” You shamefully admit. 

You meant to try but never found the courage to do it, even after joining the enforcers. You had to hide that detail from everyone, and especially Maddie with how noisy she is. But you told Steb, your mentor and then lover. 

Steb cheek fins shake with the tips if his ears as he signs again. 

“Hey!” You splash him playfully, “The courage to charge an enemy and to swim is very different, do not mock me, Mister!” You stick your tongue to him with a giggle. 

But you would lie if you said you were not a bit afraid, even Steb’s feet do not touch the bottom, how are you supposed to enter the water with confidence? 

You lean forward to see what you thought was correct: This lake is very deep, and even though bioluminescent algae illuminate the bottom allowing you to see in these very clear waters, you gulp with concern. 

The last time you entered a river, you did it with a safety rope at your waist, linking you to the bank with your teams, water up to the hips and you advanced in furious flows to save a child blocked on a rock in the middle of the river. 

You both almost drown. Almost. 

And even though you survived, your idea to learn to swim was not buried for good! You will never enter a new body of water so deep! 

This brings you to tonight, after you got home from your patrol, Steb got down the stairs with a backpack and handed you a train ticket. You both jumped onto a train last minute with both of your packs and to the Mountains you went! You walked to a wood cabin that he opened and before you could do anything else after tidying your stuff and the cabin, he grabbed your hand gently and guided you to this lake inside a large cave, illuminated by the aquatic flora, giving it a hypnotizing aura. 

You jump as Steb’s wet hand grabs yours, inviting you in. 

“I’m a little afraid...” You quietly admit. 

It is so so tempting to join him, you would like nothing more but you are so terrified by water. 

Steb gently cups your cheek and opens his arms wide, inviting you to jump in his embrace. You gulp but stand up to get rid of your clothes. Once in your bra and panties, you walk back to the bank’s edge and hesitate. 

Steb’s ears shake and he extends his hands to you in an inviting manner. 

He gestures to you to jump into his embrace with a soft expression. You close your eyes shut, take a deep breath, and jump in with a yelp. You are already regretting it! 

You end up in the cold water and collide with Steb’s chest. He immediately closes his embrace around you. 

You reopen one eye, unsure, discovering your head above water and in Steb’s arms, solidly clasped around your waist. He tilts his head to you with a gentle smile. You circle his chest with your own arms, pressing your two bodies together. 

“Do not let me go, all right?” You plead. 

Steb simply purrs and kisses your temple as he starts to move in the wonderful waters. 

It isn’t... unpleasant, you realize! Especially in his secure embrace! That is top-notch! 

You both swim arms in arms for a moment, lazily floating together, your ear pressed against his rumbling chest as he purrs loudly. 

After a moment he swims to the wall of the cave and detaches you from him, prompting you to hold on to a rock piercing the water as he swims away. 

You thought he just wanted to swim a bit freely without you slowing him down, but you realize, horrified, what he is trying to do. He looks at you intently, his hand extended to you, patiently waiting. 

“Steb! I do not find it funny!” 

He is ridiculously close all things considered but it is too far for you! You cannot cross that distance! 

He gestures for you to come to him, his fins waving with cheerful energy and a tender smile. 

“Steb!” You choke, outraged. 

He tilts his head, visibly amused by your distress. This is absolutely nothing for him, but it is too much for you. You grip the rock harder to not let go. 

He pretends to swim away toward the exit and abandon you here until you shout at him. 

“Steb!!!” You scream, horrified; “Do not leave me here!” 

He returns to his former position and resumes his gestures. You gulp, terrified and petrified in these cold waters. 

“You can do it.” He simply informs you, absolutely sure of himself and you. 

You huff, but when you meet his eyes you can only see absolute trust and support shining in his ocean eyes. 

He knows you can do it and is dedicated to proving it to you! 

“Mon amour...” He calls for you with his voice so rare, like a siren. 

You grit your teeth and throw yourself in the water. You throw your arms and legs around pathetically and with despair’s energy but you manage to advance and close the gap little by little. Steb awaits you, arms wide open until you throw yourself at him with a grunt of despair and relief. 

He immediately hugs you tight and cradles you with a cheerful laugh, his purr resonating loudly in the cave while you catch your breath, your nails dug into his skin to never let go. 

He cups your two cheeks and fondly kisses your entire face, cheek, chin, nose, eyelids, forehead, ... No surface is safe from his lips before he dives his eyes into yours, his lips hovering over yours, so close and so far away at the same time. 

Taunting you 

Tempting you... 

You gulp, licking your lips in anticipation, parting them slightly like an invitation and he doesn’t lose time responding. He presses your lips together in a sensual and soft embrace, his hands holding the back of your head and your back solidly. 

He kisses you like a hungry, desperate man, robbing you both of your breath in a matter of seconds. You circle his neck tight, eagerly responding to the kiss. 

Feeling alive. 

You part from each other reluctantly after full minutes of love and warmth, panting like after a sprint, holding on to the other like a buoy. 

“Tell me that’s not what you organized for our entire stay, Steb.” You hope. 

He grins, his fins waving with playful mischief. 

You grunt, letting your forehead collide with his chest. 

“You’re lucky I love you so much, Mister!” You protest tiredly. 

His purr rises up in the notes and he resumes his lazy swimming with you in his arms, pressed tight. 

He did not let go for the rest of the night...

[prythianpages]

Catching Fire | Eris x Reader

summary: When word of Sawyer's nightly endeavors reaches Beron, he summons you both to his office. Meanwhile, Eris is away on a secret mission where he discovers a troubling truth about you.

warnings: violence, mentions of blood and homophobia (bc Beron is an asshole toward his son); A hint of dark Eris torturing your father

a/n: This is part five to my Like An Angel Series, where Eris falls in love with his brother's betrothed. I do try to write each imagine as a stand alone but I don't think this one can.

Eris moves with silent grace as he steps out from the shadows and into the grounds of your family’s home. His father had sent him to Dawn to handle some unfinished business with Nuan so of course, he took advantage and paid the Night Court a visit too. Now, on his way back home, he decided to stop and pay your father a surprise visit. 

Determination burns bright in his eyes as he observes the guards patrolling the perimeter. He reaches for his bow and arrow, placing an enchantment over the sound. Each arrow released is laced with a poison, weak so it doesn’t kill but strong enough to knock someone out for hours. A slight smirk plays at the corner of his lips as the guards fall one by one.

Given his status, he knows he could’ve requested to see your father at the gates and easily been granted it. But it’s important that no one but your father knows of his visit.

Eris allows the moonlight to guide him down the cobblestone path, leading to the entrance of your house. He uses his magic to unlock the front door and slips in.

The hour is late but Eris keeps his senses on high alert, in case there are still servants lurking through the halls. Your house is great and vast, adorned with expensive furniture and sculptures. One would think this was a lord’s house and not a merchant’s. He can’t help but notice the fabrics wrapped around some furniture and the random boxes littering the floors. Some boxes are filled with stuff, others still empty. Almost as if your father is planning to move.

He stops for a brief moment when he finds himself in the sitting room. Torches line the walls, enveloping the room in a dim glow. It’s bright enough to discern the family portrait hanging on top of the mantelpiece. Immediately, his eyes are drawn to you. A softness envelops his features, his heart skipping a beat. 

It’s only been a couple of days since he had to leave the Forest house and he misses you already.

As he looks at the painting, he admires how the artist managed to capture the brightness of your presence well. Beside you stands an older female, unmistakably your mother. The resemblance between the two of you is striking and the notable absence of resemblance in all ways to the male seated in the portrait leaves Eris feeling a sense of relief.

He forces himself to carry on, tearing his gaze off the painting. His keen senses guide him down a certain hallway and as he walks forward, he takes in every detail. It becomes apparent that the portrait in the sitting room must have been the most recent, for older depictions of your family adorn the walls of the hallway he traverses, each one offering a glimpse of you through the ages.

When he finally reaches the door he was looking for, he takes a deep breath and then reaches for the handle.

**

Casting a glance toward Lady Raelynn, you take a deep breath and then mimic her stance. True to her words, she had taken it upon herself to teach you how to shoot a bow and arrow. Her movements are graceful and effortless as she notches an arrow onto her bow.

“You’re so good at this,” you say in admiration when the arrow hits its target.

“I’ve had centuries of practice, my dear,” Lady Raelynn smiles warmly at you, easing her stance. Though subtle, a hint of sadness flickers in her russet eyes once more, causing a pang of guilt to tighten your brow. 

During your first practice session, you had asked her why she pursued archery, dancing around the real question you had meant to ask…How did Beron allow it? Considering the strict standards of the Autumn Court, you're certain that archery wasn't deemed appropriate for ladies such as yourselves.

Her answer had been short and simple, “it saved my life once.” You’ve heard some stories from the war centuries ago, how Lady Raelynn’s family estate was attacked by Hybern’s forces and she was the only one to escape. You didn’t ask any questions after that, sensing it was a sensitive topic.

“Your turn.”

You nod and then steady yourself. This time, you’re relieved to find your hands steady, lacking the nervous tremble that plagued previous sessions. Slowly, you draw the string of your bow back and then release. It sails through the air, missing the target by a small margin. With a sigh, you lower your bow. You were so close.

“Is that the best you got?”

Your head whips around. You recognize the voice but still, you can’t help but hope maybe you heard wrong. Reality deflates your hope as your gaze falls upon a disheveled Sawyer. Some irrational part of you had been clinging to the hope that it was Eris. Even though he had left a note for you in the book he promised to bring you, telling you he would be gone for a week. The note had burst into ashes after you read it but the words he had written were still engraved in your mind.

Angel, I’m afraid I have some business to partake in for the next week. Allow my book to keep you company and reach out to my mother, should you need help. Until then, I’ll be thinking about you and those sweet lips of yours.

-E

Sawyer lets out a tut in disapproval, pulling you out of your thoughts. He seats himself on one of the lawn chairs in the gardens, squinting at the blinding light of the sun. His hair is a mess, bags under his eyes are heavy and the clothes he wears are wrinkled and not fitting for a male of his status. If High Lord Beron could see him now, you fear what would become of him.

“Sawyer.” Lady Raelynn says in what appears to be a warning, a frown etching onto her features as she takes in the sight of her son.

Your nose crinkles as the stench of alcohol and something else reaches you. He must’ve gone out. Again. When you had bargained with Sawyer and offered to cover for his night endeavors, you hadn’t expected how frequent they would be. Sawyer was becoming reckless, as if each night closer to your wedding drove him further and further into despair. You weren’t handling it well either. The judgmental looks sent your way often followed by scoffs and rude comments as you walked around the Autumn estate weren’t helping your situation.

“What a shame,” they’d say. “I heard Sawyer hates her.”

“There must be something wrong with her. Or him.”

“Clearly, she’s not worthy. I doubt she’ll last long.”

Your fingers tighten against your bow. You didn’t care that Sawyer had no interest in you nor for the rumors that circled around him of his preferences. It was the fact that he was being careless with his actions and you worried about what it would mean for the both of you, if the High Lord finds out.

Sawyer’s lips tug up into a smirk. He leans back onto the chair, grabbing a ripe red apple from the basket of fruit laid out on the table beside him. With newfound focus and determination, you raise your bow. You’re thinking before even acting, and in the blink of an eye, the arrow is soaring. It pierces straight through the apple in Sawyer’s grasp, sending it flying and pinning it to a nearby tree.

“I was going to eat that!”

Your eyes widen in surprise, the bow falling from your grasps and onto the floor. You didn’t miss. Your mouth parts, the beginning of an apology about to roll off your tongue. Not toward Sawyer but toward Lady Raelynn. 

“Good aim,” she says before you can even speak, soothing your worry.

She then approaches Sawyer, a disapproving look on her face. She brushes his hair back and gives a small tug, tilting his head to look up at her. “Please go bathe and freshen up before anyone else sees you. Or worse, your father.”

Hurried footsteps draw near and immediately, a tight knot twists in your stomach as a servant who cannot look any of you in the eyes comes forth. She keeps her head bow, shaky hands clasped before her. 

“High Lord Beron requests Lord Sawyer’s and Lady Y/n’s presence.”

It's already too late.

**

Eris’s teeth clench as he reads over a letter that had been left in an open box atop your father’s desk. It’s a letter addressed to his father and as his eyes skim through the page, he feels a dark heat seeping into his bones.

Dear High Lord Beron,

By the time this letter reaches you, I will be far out from your grasp. I sense you’ll be angry but I urge you to not bother looking for me. The thing you seek most is already with you. It’s been with you all this time, coursing through my daughter’s veins. The essence of the sundrop flower lives within her. Not the original intention but when my wife found out I planned to sell it to the highest bidder, she decided to foolishly take matters into her own hands. 

Attached to this letter is a journal where I’ve kept all records of the sundrop flower and my daughter. Do with this information as you will. She’s all yours now.

Best wishes,

Jareth

Eris's hands are immediately reaching out for the journal that lies in the box, fingers tightening around it so harshly his knuckles are turning white. He opens it, eyes skimming over the pages and reads just enough to know what’s so precious about this sundrop flower.

When he closes the book, he’s furious. It was no surprise to him to confirm that your father was not a good male. However, it was surprising that he sold you, his one and only daughter, out. He probably killed your mother, too. With the journal still in his hand, he quietly finds and sneaks his way to your father’s room with an urge to seek out more answers.

The sun is beginning to rise when Eris makes himself comfortable on the grand armchair. It had originally been facing the window but he moved it to face your father, who was currently still sleeping. A muscle in his jaw tightens at the peaceful expression on your father’s face.

Not wanting to waste any more time, his magic yanks the covers off from your father. Your father jumps to wakefulness with a startle, eyes wide and frantic as he sits up in bed. The blood leaves his face as he spots Eris.

**

The heir to the Autumn Court reclines on the armchair as if it were his throne. There’s an air of practiced arrogance around him. He’s dressed in a fine suit, every thread woven with the finest fabrics of deep navy, highlighting the richness of his crimson hair that cascades around his broad shoulders. His amber eyes, gleaming with an unsettling intensity, pierce through the dimly lit room with an almost predatory glint.

“Call for help and I’ll slit your throat.”

“Lord Eris,” your father breathes, blinking back at him in surprise. His gaze lowers to where Eris’s ring clad fingers tap on the journal in his lap. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I came to relay a message from my father. I’m sure you’re well familiar with his impatience. But then, I found this,” Eris says, holding up the letter he found and taking pleasure in the fear that flashes through your father’s eyes. “Planning on going somewhere?”

**

It’s eerily quiet as you and Sawyer step into the High Lord’s office. You pray to the Cauldron that the glamor Sawyer placed over himself is strong enough to mask the evidence of whatever he got himself into last night. But as you turn around to face Beron, your heart sinks to your stomach. The pure anger simmering in those brown eyes of his is enough to let you know he sees right through it.

“Father, I can–”

You flinch, curling into yourself as a loud cracking sound echoes through the room followed by the sound of Sawyer’s body falling to the ground. He grunts in pain, struggling as he turns on his side to sit up. But a sharp kick from Beron sends him back to the floor, his head banging against the floor.

“You continue to disgrace this family,” Beron seethes with another powerful kick and you hear something crack. “Tarnishing the family name I spent centuries bringing up! Where is duty? Where is honor?”

Sawyer’s brown eyes light with an indignant fire. “Fuck honor,” he manages to spit out, setting Beron alight.

Tears sting at your eyes as you watch the scene unfold before you in horror. You knew the High Lord of the Autumn Court was cruel and violent. But this? And toward his own blood? This was unforgivable. Unjust and absolutely terrifying. It confirmed all your suspicions over the bruises and scars you'd seen on Eris.

Oh, Eris.

A scream catches in your throat and your entire body freezes as Beron continues to unleash his wrath on his son.

“I’ve been generous in offering you a solution and you dare make a mockery out of it?”

“There is no solution for who I am,” Sawyer cries defiantly, despite the blood trickling from his mouth.

The hurt, the agony in his voice tears at your heart–

“I dare curse the Cauldron for making you the way it did!”

“I don’t.” You’re taken aback at the firmness of your own voice.

Beron turns to you sharply, your words reminding him of your presence. You swallow thickly but stand your ground as he walks toward you. While Sawyer has not been the kindest to you, he does not deserve any of this. If anything, you now understand him more. Why your marriage came to be, why Sawyer hates you. It has your heart aching for all the suffering he must’ve endured and is still currently living through. 

“You,” he hisses with a pointed finger. “You just marked your death sentence.”

Fear creeps into your heart and a sickening smirk begins to form on the High Lord’s face. He can sense the terror filling your veins. Still, you hold his gaze, though it’s threatening to burn you alive at any given moment. 

“You’re undeserving of all the blessings the Cauldron has bestowed upon you," you say.

A harsh slap sends a stinging pain to your face. Your body stumbles backward but Beron holds you steady, gripping onto your arm. His nails cut through the thin fabric of your gown and pierce into your skin. His other hand grips your face sharply by the chin as he studies you.

“What a terrible disappointment you are. I would kill you right now but much to my discontent, I have to wait until after the wedding,” he threatens and then lets out a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine. The way he’s looking at you. You’re almost sure he’s thinking of all the ways he’ll enjoy torturing you to death. Your body is screaming internally in panic and there’s a strange sensation stirring in the depths of your chest.

 “You could’ve had it all, you know? What every female of your status wishes for. Money, jewels, a good family name."

“No,” Sawyer groans out, keeling over. “None of this is her fault. It’s all mine. I was careless. Eris warned me but I threatened her to stay silent.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Beron releases his cruel grip on you. He turns back to Sawyer, who remains on the floor and you’re quick to come between them. A foolish move but you worry Sawyer doesn’t have it in him to take any more blows. Nor do you want him to.

“I do not care who is at fault for I am putting the blame on both of you anyway. But,” Beron pauses to lift a finger. “Let this be clear to you both that this is a warning. One more mishap from either one of you and it’s over. You think you know pain? I will have you longing for something as sweet as pain.”

Beron looks over at you both, delighted in the sight of your trembling form and his son, who remains on the ground. Bleeding. He’d say his message is pretty clear but just in case...

“Oh. One more thing,” he says as he makes his way toward the door. His hand grasps the door knob but he pauses, wanting to make sure you hear his next words well.

“There will be a bedding ceremony at your wedding.”

**

Eris wasn’t above inflicting pain onto your father. He meant it when he said he’d do anything to keep you safe. What a harsh twist of fate it was that the person who helped bring you into this world was also the same person content with you leaving it. 

Your father didn’t deserve you. Eris feared he, himself, did not deserve you either. But he’d be damned, if he allowed the ruthless hand of fate to have you at its grasps.

This thought crosses his mind as he gazes down at your own father’s hands. Eris had brought your father to his study, forcing him to sit at his desk while the Autumn heir loomed over his shoulder like an oncoming storm of darkness.

His hands reach for his belt, where he keeps his favorite dagger sheathed at all times. “What hand do you write with?”

Jareth’s body tenses. He turns his head to look up at Eris with wary eyes. “My right, my Lord,” he replies with quiet hesitancy.

“Good,” Eris says. The only warning Jareth got before Eris brought his dagger down, piercing through your father’s hands. He muffles his scream with his free hand as he twists the dagger further into his skin. “That means you won’t need your left hand anymore.”

“Here’s what I need you to do if you wish to live.” Eris roughly pulls Jareth’s head taut to his chest, forcing his gaze upwards. The hand at Jareth’s mouth lifts and finds its place against his throat. Eris gives a tight squeeze in warning. 

“I need you to write a letter to your daughter. Confess the truth. Apologize for all the wrongs you’ve done. Then, you pray to the Mother that y/n has it in her to forgive you… because I sure as hell never will.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Jareth mutters hurriedly, desperate to live. His right hand shakes as it finds his quill, eyes glistening with fright under the intense gaze of Eris. 

How pathetic, Eris sneers quietly as he sits himself on the chair directly across from Jareth. Though small, he needed to put some distance between them both. He fears if he didn’t, the primal instinct urging him to protect and defend you would consume him whole. 

Eris leans back into the chair, bringing the journal filled with details of your father’s twisted experiment with you to his gaze. Every so often, he casts a glance toward your father, who continues to scribble words down with haste. The more and more he learns of the truth, the more it sickens him. And the more he wishes to give in to that primal instinct, to unleash the beast that lurks deep within him. 

But he knows how much it’d hurt you if he killed your father. Even if your father deserved it. Ironically, Eris can only pray to the Mother himself that you would find it in you to forgive him for what he has planned for your father instead.

After what feels like an eternity, Jareth lets out a deep exhale. “Done.”

Eris lifts his gaze, slowly taking in the sight of your father like the calm before the storm. The older male’s face has turned ashen, coated with a sheen layer of sweat that Eris can scent.

The Autumn heir rises from his seat, leaning over to take a brief look at the contents of the letter. The corner of his lips lift into a sinister smirk.

“Looks like you won’t be needing your right hand either.”

**

Eris watches from a distance, bright flickering flames casting an eerie reflection in the darkness of his eyes. Your house is catching fire with a ferocity that thirsts to devour everything in its path. The letter your father had written to you is secured into the breast pocket of his coat along with the journal.

It all makes sense to him now. Why on that night he rushed to comfort you, you had not been concerned at all with your bleeding hand. Why the scar on his lower abdomen had magically disappeared after you touched it that same night. Why the yellow flower you had embroidered and proudly showed him looked familiar. Why your father would refer to you as a flower a lot. Why his father was obsessed with obtaining it for himself.

The sundrop flower surged through your veins.

A long, long time ago, it was whispered that a solitary drop from the Cauldron had spilled over in what is now known as the Dawn Court, giving birth to the radiant sundrop. The golden flower was no ordinary bloom as it possesses the ability to heal any ailment or injury. It blooms at a different location within the Dawn Court every fifth century or so. A phenomenon carefully overseen by the reigning High Lord of Dawn. As it is rumored that whoever beholds the flower is immortal, for nothing can harm or kill them.

Eris has no idea how your parents managed to not only find but obtain the flower before Thesan could. The sundrop is a divine creation, blessed by the Cauldron itself. A divine creation whose essence is intertwined with your very being. As Eris’s thoughts drift back to you, he feels a stirring deep in his chest.

His hand instinctively reaches for his heart, his breath catching as a tumultuous wave of emotions washes over him. Fear, panic, anger—all swirling within him. Yet not his own. No, these emotions are coming from you, echoing loudly through the bond.

A sense of foreboding settles over him. Something is terribly wrong.

a/n: Sorry for the lack of Eris x reader interactions in this one and the lack of softness this series usually holds but it was necessary to build up to the future parts. The next part will make up for it. Hope you still enjoyed! and also hoped you enjoyed the continued Tangled references lol and the one quote from the Avengers as well as some House of Dragon ones. I know a lot of information was dropped in this part so if you have any questions, just let me know. There's just three more parts to this and the bond snapping for reader is coming soon 👀

tagging: @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @fxckmiup @stormhearty @skyesayshi @sfhsgrad-blog @crazylokonugget @evergreenlark @secretlyhers @mybestfriendmademe @ib525, @96jnie, @kennedy-brooke, @scooobies, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria, @glitterypirateduck @thatsassyhufflepuff @acourtofbatboydreams, @mal-adaptive-dreams, @dandelionfairyyy

if you asked to be tagged and I didn't, please know it was a mistake and just let me know again so I can add you!

you can find a sneak peak to the next part here

[atarathegreat]

Scary Wife Privileges Tokyo Revengers

Featuring: Chifuyu Matsuno, Mitsuya Takashi, Hakkai Shiba

You were getting tired of it, hearing Chifuyu complain about Takemichi and how the man runs things. "He'll come back, I know he will, but it's just aggravating right now."

When he talked about his boss he made little sense. You never understood his ramblings about "any day now." and "It's been twelve years." Some days it was too much and you started an argument with Chifuyu, an argument where he constantly refused to tell you anything about what he meant. It was pissing you off. Majorly. You wanted Chifuyu to be happy, but when he came home exhausted and angry every night, you didn't feel that he was happy.

His friends greeted you as you walked through the big building, smiles and waves from both sides as you walked to your husband's office. Chifuyu had been in a particularly bad mood the whole week and you hadn't made it any better by causing fights when he came home. Remorse was one of the many emotions you were feeling, topped with a cute little bow to compound everything and stamp it in like concrete.

"Fuyu," You spoke softly, a way you hadn't spoken to him in months, "do you have time?"

It was in his eyes, the fact that something had already happened was painted into the dark circles under his lashes. It made your heart lurch as he smiled sadly at you. "Always have time for you, baby." Chifuyu held a hand out to pull you in as you approached, "As long as you didn't come here to fight, in that case, I'm in a meeting." His half hearted joke made you sigh, "Already, today?"

His chest heaved with a sigh, "Trashed his own office. Don't worry, he wasn't mad at me this time."

There was no time for a response as the very man exploded into your husband's office behind you. He was on edge, clearly, but you didn't care about what he had to say. Months of anger from seeing your husband drink until he fell asleep with his face buried in your chest just poured out.

"Shut up. No one cares about whatever bullshit you're about to spout. Is this how you treat all of your workers?" You snapped, hands on your hips as you chastised him, "You're the exact definition of an asshole and so help you if my husband comes home angry again."

Takemichi looked caught off guard, a stark contrast to the man you'd not only met at your wedding, but the man in the stories Chifuyu brought home. He stumbled over his words, but you continued to chew into him as Chifuyu hugged around your waist and smiled into your shirt.

Mitsuya was used to the nitpicking his clients did, often smiling and agreeing, even if he didn't. He wasn't the type to retaliate because of a bad mood, especially since it was going to be something the other person wore and he would never have to look at it again.

And yet he kept having to send you silent glares and pointed looks to keep you from speaking up as you watched him work.

"And maybe if there was more detail in the train-"

"Do you know how long he's spent on this ugly garbage?" You spoke clearly, your nose in a book so you couldn't see Mitsuya glaring at you, "All the detail on the sleeves took two months anyways. And that's not including the beading along the end. Can't you appreciate that?"

The client stared at you, open mouthed and shocked. But you kept on, "To ask for more detail when he's already fixing the fabric to your measurements is... Stupid."

Mitsuya sighed, "Apologies for her."

"Don't apologize for me." When did you get off the couch? "How about you let him finish this piece so he can come home to his family at a decent time, yeah? His daughters are tired of going to sleep without Daddy tucking them in."

The club was loud. Too loud. You cursed under your breath at your husband for bringing you along with him. It wasn't your vibe, the whores and half naked bartenders that walked around while rich, old men played card games. Your dress, the one Hakkai told you to wear so you would fit in while still being modest, was swaying around and scratching at your ankles. People were staring at you as you walked through with your heels in hand. It wasn't your fault, the shoes were hurting your feet and Hakkai had disappeared almost an hour ago. You would've already headed home if you knew Hakkai wouldn't throw a fit.

"Black Dragon trash." You hissed under your breath when you finally saw him. He was laughing with his guys, seemingly ignoring the woman massaging his shoulders. Hakkai zoned in on your hips as you straddled his lap, your chest pressing into his face as you got in the woman's face, "Hands off, unless you want to give hand jobs with stumps for the rest of your life."

The fear you instilled in the woman was attractive to Hakkai, and his men noticed as well. It wouldn't have been the first time you'd left them with raging hard ons, and Hakkai sent a glare at all of them.

"Go rub up on someone else's husband, or so help me god the only use that pretty little mouth will have is sucking food through a straw."

[sparrowplayssims]

Update 3: Another update, I know. This fixes the wardrobe completely. I had to remake it from scratch but it now has anims and working wall masks! Get it HERE (Post download is updated)

Update 2: Forgot to update the collection file with the new GUIDs, download it HERE

Update: Changed the GUIDs to the one in the block I claimed way back in 2018, redownload if you've downloaded it :)

One of my favourite furniture sets over the years has always been the Tivoli, Plantation set by blake_boy over at ModTheSims. As well as some super cute dressers by rgdyanne over at Sims2Artists. I heavily recommend both sets with this pack.

I've used it way too many times and around October of 2022, I ended up feeling like I wanted to work on some addons for it. I've always wanted to get into making actual objects in Sims 2 since I love making things for another irrelevant game I mod. I decided this would be a great way to try and learn.

Included is the following:

Pet Bed (Linen is slaved to maxis bedding)

Cat Condo (Fabric is slaved to Los Gatos Condominums/cheap condo)

Bunk Bed + Ladder + Top Bunk Mattress

2 Tile Armoire

1 Tile Armoire

Bookshelf (Plus Empty Version)

4-Tier Shelf

4 different Shelf Inserts

Pet Bed Shelf Insert for 4-Tier Shelf (Bed slaved to Comfy Pet Pillow)

Wall Shelf

Thin Shelf/DVD Unit

Thin alternatives to end tables in the original set

Tiny open end table

Built In Closet (Based on the Apartment Life one)

2 Tile Desk

There is also the option of desk widening! I find that on the original desks, my sims' PCs would hang off the edge which is not ideal.

I'll keep them separate in case you want to keep the originals :) Same filename and GUID as the original. I did try to make the wider ones a separate GUID but it didn't work so I'm gonna leave that for now and figure it out at some point.

Download:

Addons - SFS

Desk Edits - SFS

Collection file included, including the original set by blake_boy and the dresser addons by rgdyanne.

Mesh details under the cut.

Pet Bed | 876 Faces / 1189 Vertices

Cat Condo | 2148 Faces / 2700 Vertices

Bunk Bed | 3726 Faces / 6599 Vertices

Ladder | 204 Faces / 248 Vertices

2 Tile Armoire | 2732 Faces / 4903 Vertices

1 Tile Armoire | 1946 Faces / 3570 Vertices

Bookshelf | 1099 Faces / 1905 Vertices

Empty Bookshelf | 868 Faces / 1391 Vertices

4-Tier Shelf | 844 Faces / 1370 Vertices

Shelf Insert 1 | 330 Faces / 526 Vertices

Shelf Insert 2 | 192 Faces / 280 Vertices

Shelf Insert 3 | 540 Faces / 778 Vertices

Shelf Insert (Also a shelf) | 12 Faces / 24 Vertices

Pet Bed Shelf Insert | 686 Faces / 840 Vertices

Wall Shelf | 538 Faces / 576 Vertices

Thin Shelf | 820 Faces / 1121 Vertices

Thin End Table - Open | 404 Faces / 819 Vertices

Thin End Table - Drawers | 476 Faces / 993 Vertices

Thin End Table - Handles | 742 Faces / 1000 Vertices

Tiny End Table | 428 Faces / 896 Vertices

Built-In Closet | 2826 Faces / 3885 Vertices

2 Tile Desk | 664 Faces / 1384 Vertices

Top Bunk Bed | 952 Faces / 620 Vertices

Whew... With that over with, enjoy!

Any issues at all, let me know!

(I'm off to bed haha)

[unreliablesnake]

Bliss (Ghost x f!reader)

Summary: Ghost gives in to his feelings, putting the fact he's above you in the ranks aside, and meets you after your latest mission.

Note: Part 2 of this, but it can be read as a stand-alone. / Here's the happy ending, I hope you'll like it. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

Warning: SMUT, MINORS DNI! Afab!reader. Fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v.

A little voice in the back of his mind kept telling Ghost to break down his walls. Let’s not worry about ranks, let’s not worry about consequences. Keep it a secret, make it some fun sneaking game just for the two of you.

To his disappointment, you kept your distance after that night. Not like he could blame you after he made it clear there could be nothing between you. While he stood next to Price in the briefing room, you looked at him every once in a while, your eyes showing the kind of sadness that made it hard for him to focus. He wished he could hug you, tell you he was sorry and he made a grave mistake by pushing you away.

Because as the days passed, he became more and more sure that he should give in to his needs. He wanted to be with you, but strictly outside of work. This way he could keep a little distance, he could sell himself the idea of breaking the rules.

Soap noticed that something had changed between the two of you, but he only dropped half a sentence before changing his mind. He knew better than to dig into his superior's private life. Whether he had asked you or not, Ghost didn't know. But for his own sanity, he assumed he did not.

The night before they could finally go home, he was scrolling your Instagram profile while lying on his bed, smiling to himself every time he saw a picture of you. It was rare, mostly found among the photos you were tagged in, but he was grateful for each and every one of them.

Suddenly he felt the mattress shift as someone sat down on its edge. He turned off the phone's screen and put it down next to his head to see who it was. When his eyes landed in you, he felt a wave of guilt passing through his body.

"Why are you torturing yourself?" you asked kindly as you reached out to place a hand on his chest.

His skin burned where you touched him, making it really hard to resist the urge to put his hands on top of yours. "What are you talking about?"

You let out a sigh at this. "You liked those photos by accident, I guess. Ghost, you said we can't be together, yet you keep looking at my photos. I'm gonna ask you again. Why are you torturing yourself?"

As he propped on his elbows, Ghost thought about the answer. "I don't want to be away from you," he admitted so honestly that he surprised himself. Well, based on the look on your face, there was no turning back now. "I know I said we can't be together, but I can't stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I try. Why are you like this, huh? Why are you so irresistible?" he asked, his question nothing more but a barely audible whisper.

With a smile, you leaned closer and slowly moved your hand up to his neck, your fingers brushing the hem of his balaclava. "Meet me after the mission," you told him quietly, your voice carrying the sort of authority that made it impossible to say no to you.

Ghost knew he was at your mercy, there was no way he could say no to that. He wasn't strong enough. So he took your hand in his and moved closer to give you a kiss through the fabric of his mask, savoring the feeling just in case this was the first and last time he could do it.

"Come on, I know you want to meet me," you tried kindly, your eyes locked with his as you waited for his response.

"Fuck, love, how could I say no to that?" the lieutenant breathed against your lips.

And he sent you a DM to discuss the details, making sure to keep the conversation online so the others wouldn't know about it. He didn't want conflict. He didn't want tension. The tension between the two of you was more than enough on his plate.

Three days later he was standing in front of your door, this time without his usual mask, his hand raised to knock. But he hesitated, he wasn't so sure anymore about this date. No, he could do it. He shouldn't be that–

"So you're just gonna stand here without letting me know you're here?" he heard your voice all of a sudden.

When he looked up, he noticed you standing in the now open door, your arm resting against the doorframe. You looked so happy and relaxed, the total opposite of what he usually saw during missions. With your trendy clothes and light makeup, he felt like kissing you on those cherry red lips.

"God, why are you like this?" he asked from no one in particular before acting on his instincts and pulling you into a kiss.

You giggled against his lips as you pulled him inside by the front of his shirt. "And you're really handsome. Have you been told that?" you inquired with a wide grin when he kicked in the door and pushed your back against it.

He gently bit on your lower lip, happy to hear a satisfied moan escape you. "We're not gonna leave for dinner, are we?"

You shook your head in response, letting him know that he was free to do whatever he wanted. And Ghost didn't need you to repeat yourself, he took the lead without hesitation, his hands moving to remove your clothes with precise and calculated moves.

Ghost's hands roamed your body as if he was trying to memorize every inch and every curve, turning it into a core memory along with everything you were about to do tonight. Because he was sure this would be a night to remember, he could feel that what you had there was truly magical.

"I want to taste you," he mumbled against your neck, enjoying the way you pushed your body against his upon hearing his request.

You gave him the directions to your bedroom, moving in perfect sync with him until the point he picked you up and gently laid you down. Ghost kneeled down next to the bed then wrapped his muscular arms around your thighs to pull you closer to his mouth.

"Prop on your elbows, sweetheart, I want to see your beautiful eyes," he ordered you sternly, making you do as he said while his tongue ran along your already wet cunt. "Look at you. I barely did anything and you're already having trouble focusing on me."

While Ghost laughed at this, you couldn't mirror his reaction. Your thoughts were somewhere else, somewhere much higher, but he didn't mind as long as your eyes were on him. He gently sucked on your clit, the mewl leaving your swollen lips sounding like music to his ears.

It wasn't a race, but he wanted to win, and winning meant drawing an orgasm out of you as fast as he could. He wanted to see how badly you wanted him, how your body reacted to his touch, and so when you tried pressing your thighs together only from feeling his tongue exploring your pussy, he pushed them wider apart, not giving you the chance to stop him.

Your eyes were hazy when he looked into them again, which drew a satisfied smirk on his shiny lips. He let go of one of your thighs and gently dipped a finger into your needy hole, slowly pumping as he returned to your puffy clit, sucking on it as if he was having his last dinner in this world.

You threw your head back in pleasure when he pushed another finger inside you, whispering his name over and over again, begging him to keep going, to make you come. "Simon, please, I can't," you whined between your moans, your hands twisting the sheets.

Ghost let out a deep growl as he put his other hand on your stomach to keep you in place. "Come on, love, come for me," he said, his eyes fixed on you, looking for the eye contact that could hopefully push you over the edge.

And the moment you looked into his amber eyes, your body began to shake, meaningless words leaving those perfect lips like a prayer as you finally reached your first high. He lapped up every drop of your flowing juices, just like he was a man starved, and he couldn't stop smiling while he watched your body slowly relax again.

He licked his fingers clean before pressing one more kiss on your cunt and getting rid of his own clothes. He signaled you to move on the bed, and you crawled up to the headboard, your hand reached out to invite him closer, legs wider apart to give him enough space. He gave you a sloppy kiss, simply loving the way his cock teased your entrance.

"Mind if I don't use a condom? I wanna feel you, baby," he asked between kisses.

You were probably still too lost in the sensation your orgasm left behind to think straight, so you agreed, and he was bad enough not to care about whether or not it was the right decision to make. He wanted it too badly to play nice this time. And if it came down to it, there was always a morning after pill to solve the problem.

So he pushed the tip in, teasing you just enough to earn your whispered pleas for more, begging him to finally fill your needy cunt. But for now he enjoyed this little game of his, only giving you the tip before pulling out, slowly turning you into a desperate mess.

"Si, please," you begged again as you reached up to grab his bicep.

"You want me to fuck you this badly?" he asked with a smirk, then leaned down to give you a soft kiss.

You returned it, hungrily devouring him while moving your hips in a futile attempt to get him to finally make a move. Ghost thought for a second, wondering if he should stop being cruel and just give you what you wanted so badly. Seeing the look in your beautiful eyes, he let out a sigh and decided not to tease you any longer.

At first he went slow, pushing his cock into your cunt slowly, giving you the time to get used to his size. Your tight pussy felt like heaven, and he didn't think he could last long if you didn't relax soon. "Love, try to relax," he told you quietly, pushing a strand of hair out of your face.

"It's hard to relax when you're filling me up so well," you whined before pulling his head down into another kiss.

He began to move his hips in a steady rhythm, feeling ecstatic from hearing your sweet mewls and moans, feeling you press your body close to his as you arched your back from pleasure. He felt your cunt clench around his cock, keeping him deep between your velvety walls, and sending him closer to the edge.

He sped up, going a little harder maybe, but not hard enough to hurt you. He paid attention to your reactions, making sure you enjoyed every second of your time together. When your breathing and the noises you made changed, he knew it wouldn't take much for you to have your next orgasm.

So he reached down to rub your clit with his thumb, earning a pathetic whine from you in return, but he didn't stop, it only made him more determined to give you what you deserved. "Come on, baby, I know you're close," he told you before kissing your neck.

And soon enough you finally came around his cock, causing him to reach his high as well not long after that, but he was still focused, he still wanted to fuck you through it. You were overstimulated, completely lost in the sensation, and he simply couldn't get enough of this sight.

He raised his body to kneel between your legs after he pulled out, pushing his leaking cum back into your cunt as he proudly smiled to himself. There you were, a broken mess despite him not even going that hard on you. This was intimate and caring sex, not the rough stress relief he usually experienced with other women.

You were special, the light in his dark life, and the more he thought about it, the more sure he became that he didn't want to let you go. He crawled back next to you, pulling you against his chest before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Mind if I stick around for a few more days? I could use more of your perfect little pussy," he suggested cheekily.

You let out a quiet chuckle before giving him a soft kiss. "I wanted to ask you to stay, so we were thinking the same thing."

Ghost wasn't used to this, but he loved this feeling. He loved how calm and happy he was around you, how easily you could make him forget about his crappy life.