#floating brothel

[ltwilliammowett]

Chinese Flower Boats

Flower boats had already existed for centuries, perhaps since the 14th century, but earlier is also possible. They were initially only available to the noble elite. They were luxury brothels with noble courtesans on board and they resembled luxurious pleasure boats with a sun deck with a private chamber and a pavilion at the stern. Not much can be said about the early designs and appearance, as records only began around 1700.

At this time the boats began to change, the stern became more and more drawn upwards so that it looked very much like a beak. There was a special reason for this, but more about that in a moment.

Flower Boat at Shanghai" wood engraved print with recent hand colour, published in All Around the World, about 1880 (x)

From then on, the boats were available in different sizes and even in different price categories. There were small ones with only one or two girls, or large ones with up to 10 or more, all of different ages, even little girls were included, although they were still learning until they were 12 before they received their first customers. Moste of these women were no longer noble courtesans but rather women from poor families who were sold to the ship owners. With the emergence of the European trading companies, they also got access to the flower boats, albeit illegally, but this could be regulated with a small bribe to the officials. Unfortunately, these meetings also further encouraged the exchange of exotic sexually transmitted diseases.

Ivory Flower boat model, late 18th century (x)

What was to be expected on such boats depended on the price of the respective ladies, with the high-priced ladies there was already entertainment and culture included, the middle price ranges offered some additional types of games and the cheap ones were, and I'm sorry to say this, for the quick number.

A model from the late or early 20th century (x)

These boats were to be found at all harbours and rivers, there were even whole streets of them. But let's move on to the very high stern, which from the 18th century onwards could take on very bizarre proportions. The ships did not always stay in the harbour to save space and prevent epidemics. The ships were be towed or sailed by their own, up and down the rivers and because they were so high at the stern they started to bob faster, which was supposed to increase the fun of the customers even more.

A Canton Flower Boat on the Pearl River, late 19th century (x)

Surprisingly, they continued to exist into WWII, although from the 19th century onwards these trips became increasingly rare and then ceased altogether. And many boats were also abandoned and became floating restaurants.

[indelen]

Gaoshun's greatest challenge is getting Jinshi (who understands his emotions pretty well but cannot begin processing the fact that his attraction to Maomao is at least in part because she's scratching a kink-based need) and Maomao (who grew up surrounded by sex work and knows what every kink under the sun is but cannot comprehend emotions worth a damn) to have one (1) normal day around each other where they do actual work.

I love how immediately Gaoshun has to tell Maomao to stop treating Jinshi like a bug because he's being an absolute freak about it. He's like hey, I know we only met a week ago, but you've already given my insane boss a sexual complex and for all of our sakes you should probably try to avoid activating it

[raesangelic]

˚* ˚ ✦STEEL AND SILK * ˚ ✦ ˚

・❥・Violet “Vi” x Reader

・❥・Warnings: smut, minor descriptions of violence

・❥・Summary: Working at a brothel in the heart of Zaun, you find yourself drawn to a new regular who so happens to be a reckless pit fighter seeking solace in your expertise.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Babette’s brothel is so much more than just a whorehouse- it’s a crossroads full of expensive secrets. In the hallways of the brothel, the most powerful people of Zaun float in between the rooms of different women and men.

There’s always a crowd in the brothel. People let things slip when they feel safe and relaxed. That’s your job. Of course, it’s not the ideal job that you’ve always dreamed of but it pays better than most and you gain leverage over the powerful people of Zaun. It’s not like you have much of an option when all the prices in the Undercity are sky rocketing.

After a while, you’ve become numb to the touch of strangers. The other workers always lookout for one and another and Babette doesn’t stand for violence. It’s one big dysfunctional family. You’ve gotten used to it all and have started to have regulars that respect you. You try your best not to get too close them but a particular new regular has caught your eye.

Her name is Vi. She has this red pinkish hair that she decided to dye black in an impulsive rage. Still her red hair shines through the cheap dye shining a spotlight of who she used to be. A tattoo of her name underneath her eye and piercings scattered on her body. She’s a pit fighter for one of Zauns notorious illegal fighting ring hidden in the dark corners of the undercity. You always prefer the women customers over the men but Vi attracts you in an alluring way.

Your meetings usually happen after her fights. She’s bloody and drunk seeking comfort anyway possible. Sometimes she comes in before fights to scoop details about the other fighters strategies.

Here she is again, stumbling into your dimly lit room on a late Friday night. The faint tang of iron fills the room. Her lip is busted and her nose leaks dark red. She smells like cheap whiskey and looks as if she has been drinking bottle to bottle.

Her knuckles are split open and bruised but she pays no attention to the pain that tightens her body.

“Hell of a night, huh?” You ask as you pat the spot next to you on the love seat. She can’t help it when her eyes trail up and down your body. You’re practically wearing nothing. Like usual, you’re wearing a cropped v neck tank top with an open back and matching shorty shorts. She lets out a deep sigh and shuts her eyes.

She collapses on the soft plush next to you. You lean over the coffee table and pull the medical kit out from the tiny compartment. You started keeping one ever since Vi started her visits.

“I’m taking that you didn’t win tonight.” You state as you open the latch of the medical kit. Her face doesn’t change- not a flicker of pride or shame, just her same old steady stone cold mask.

“In the end, I’m still here aren’t I?” She rasps in a deep voice. You pick out a white bandage and a cloth. You sit against Vi’s clothed thighs and brings your hand to her face. You caress her cheek as you dab away the blood on her lips.

She slightly opens her eyes watching your movements. “Who did you fight?” You ask while you wipe away the remaining blood. “Doesn’t matter, doll.” She leans into your soft touch.

She started calling you that after her first visit there. Always dressed up in prettiest of garments and hair perfect as can be. You look like a doll to her. Perfect and pristine. She wonders how you ever ended up in a place like this. You’re too good for here.

She brings her calloused hand up to your hair. It’s neatly up in a bun with some bobby pins pressed against it to hold the hair. “Why haven’t I ever seen you with your hair down?” She coos in a low voice.

Your lips upturn into a sly smile. “Maybe because you never asked.” You state as you place the bloody cloth on the glass table infront of the loveseat. The warmth of your skin radiates on Vi. You lean back touching your shoulder to hers. Only inches away from her face your eyes meet hers.

“I’m asking now.” She loops her finger into your hair band and unravels it slowly before throwing the hairband somewhere next to you.

Your hair falls down onto your shoulders and cascades around your face. She plucks the bobby pins out and places them on the table. You let out a small laugh.

She takes it all in, her sharp gaze lingering longer than usual. The way your hair falls around your shoulders. You push your hair back with a deep sigh.

“Long day for you too?” She asks while twirling a stray strand of your hair. There’s a rasp in her voice, a splinter of vulnerability shining through her bloody battered state.

“Yeah well.. you know how it is here.” She pushes the stray hair strand behind your ear. “Anyways, I heard some big shot talking about your next fight.” She tenses up while you continue.

“I don’t care. Not tonight.” She says while you start to pull her black jacket off. You peel it away slowly feeling the worn fabric under your grip.

You throw the jacket over the side of the couch. Your fingers trace the black ink on her bruised skin. Her eyes follow them. Then they flicker to your face again.

She can’t help but feel an overwhelming attraction towards you. A gratifying force pulling her to you. She grabs onto your hand freezing you in your place.

She can’t take this anymore. She needs you against her. Her gaze locks with yours. The air between the two of you thickens, charged with an energy you can’t fight.

She lets go of your hand and wraps it into your hair. She crashes onto your lips moving in a hungry rhythm. Your hands wrap against her back. Her hands loop with your tank top. She unravels from your lips to lift the tank top off of you.

It slides off with ease. She takes a moment to appreciate the scene in front of her. Your chest rises and falls. She ducks down to your neck pressing chaste kisses.

You let out a soft gasp as she travels further. Her touch hand latches onto your breast and she nips at the sensitive spot of your neck. A rush of euphoria makes your head spin.

You need more, she needs more.

Her breath is hot against your skin sending shivers down your spine. She ignites a fire inside of you. Her finger leaves your chest and travels below your shorts.

She lets out a deep laugh against your skin feeling how soaked you are. Her finger dives deeper. Your lips press against her ear. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be making you feel like this..” you whisper.

“You know it’s so much more fun for the both of us when I do it, doll.” She pulls you back in for a hungry kiss. Her fingers curl inside of you.

You let out a hushed moan. Her hands explore your body like your body is new territory. Time to seems to blur, your heart beats in your ears. Her fingers leave your warmth.

You sigh unable to form words as she pulls off the shorts that already barely cover you. Her hands drag down to your thighs slowly torturing you with the prolonging absence of her touch.

The shorts are thrown with the rest of your forgotten clothes. Her hands stop at your hips and she grabs them. She moves you down the couch and starts to press kisses further and further down.

The warmth in between your legs continues to grow. Flutters of arousal beat inside your chest. She finally makes her way to your heat. She ducks down in between your legs. Your thighs instinctively tighten around her head.

Her hot breath lingers around your center. Her lips press against you. You gasp lightly and your hands travel into her hair. Her tongue swirls around your core carefully. She always knows just what riles you up.

“I know you like it just like that, doll.” She cockily teases you. She can’t help but smirk seeing your flushed face.

Between breathy moans you moan her name quietly as she inches you closer over the edge. She slides her tongue up sending you over but slows down.

“Fuck.. Vi..” You whisper under your pants. She picks up your pace. You grab onto her hair pulling her closer. A burst of an intense sensation paralyzes you.

You press her down further arching your back. She keeps at her pace until your pathetic humps stop and your body twitches. She leans up from her position to catch you in a quick kiss.

You can barely keep up with her rhythm as she crawls on top of you. Her red hair falls infront of her face. She leans away from the kiss and deep down all you want is for her to stay.

She drops her head on your chest taking in the warmth of your body. For a moment the pain of her wounds melt away. She doesn’t think of Caitlyn but only of you. Your breath slows down matching with her.

She tries not to dwell on the fact that this experience is something you always have when working at the brothel. To her you’re not just the hooker from the brothel. You’re just a desperate girl doing whatever it takes.

Just like her.

——————————————-

I couldn’t find any Pitfighter Vi gifs which is disappointing bc she’s so fine in her emo era

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ You better lock your door and look at me a little more (we both know I'm worth waitin' for) ❞

Vander x ftm!reader | fluffy, NSFW, slight angst | there's some plot at the end | reader has had top-surgery & bottom growth | versatile. bottom. reader | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 5k

warnings: r! is a prostitute, brothel mentioned, mentions of addiction, spanking, fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, terms like boypussy, pussy, boycunt, cunt are used)

masterlist;

authors note: you guys have @strayjester to thank for this because of the thirst we had for this fine-ass single dad...

*song on repeat: Billie Boss Nova by Billie Eilish *YN is described as being shorter than Vander in this fic.

He’s getting that itch under his skin again. Muscles aching and throat begging for the soothing burn of addictive smoke. Vander tosses a rag on his shoulder, scratching at his beard as he fixes his posture. His skin feels stretched thin, aching for a salve to fill the crevices and drought; his ears muffle the bar, and the song playing floats into his ears.

The playful percussions, the whispering tone of the singer, and the sighs of the adlibs remind him of the fairytales of fairies, sirens, and boys in masks in nothing but a see-through robe.

Vander straightens up, briefly glancing over at the doors of the bar. The underground doesn’t get sunlight, but like a dog, he knows when people are starting to head back home. The crowd in here was mostly gone, some were passed out in the booths and some intently eating sunflower seeds in their corner. He’d have to clean it up and make sure the tables weren’t sticky, and the floor needed a good sweep too.

Impatientness grows in him. Vander sighs, pouring himself a shot of something to reinvigorate him, and slams the glass down. It startles the man at the bar enough to have him reach for his coins, the rest get the same hint.

“You look like you need a nightcap," Spider mutters. Vander thinks it’s ridiculous for people to call the seamstress such an intimidating name when she vehemently despises the arachnids, but it stuck and she has no choice but to embrace it. She has the courtesy of bringing her bowl of opened sunflower seeds and an empty glass to him instead of just stumbling off.

But Vander knows it isn’t exactly out of the kindness of her heart.

It flatters him that she finds him attractive. Really, it does. She was a beautiful woman and a capable one too. But Vander is tired and truly, he doesn’t want his rendezvous to be chattered on about everywhere. His kids didn’t need to hear about any of it.

“Aye’, that I do. Thankfully, I own a bar,” she chuckles and reaches forward to swat at his shoulder. Vander just smiles, taking her dishes and placing them elsewhere so his back is turned to her. “It’s not good practice to drink your own stock,” Spider places her elbows on the table and Vander doesn’t need to spare a glance to know her breasts are on display too. This isn’t the first time she’s done this, and most likely won’t be the last.

The song ends with a soothing croon from the singer and Vander’s cock twitches in his pants as he spots the business card stuck between the frame of the mirror.

“Ya’ sober enough to make your way back safe?” Spider’s brows pinch and she mutters, gluing her gaze on Vander’s face as he pulls the rag down to wipe the table. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

Vander nodded, bidding her a good night she simply replied with a wave. She was the last to leave through the front door and Vander manages to not groan in relief at the click he hears.

‘ Hurry! ‘ A voice tells him. It’s early in the morning now, the window is closing but he can’t possibly leave the bar in this state. He’ll be the one regretting it when he opens tonight. Vander imagines he must’ve looked a bit dumb as he stares at the state of the bar when Vi appears at the top of the stairs.

“What?” Vi tilts her head at him but gestures loosely to the tables and chairs. “I said I can clean it, you look...tired.”

He sighs, squeezing the back of his neck. “What’re you doing up so early, Vi?” she shrugs which is a non-answer but pushes through the doorway and meanders behind the bar. Her head pops out and she places the iron bucket of cleaning supplies. Vander walks to her, handing her the rag as he reaches for a broom.

“Vander, I can clean the place just fine,” she huffs. “All by yer’self? S’gonna take ya’ forever,” he’s jesting but she finds no humor in it. The girl crosses her arms as she glares up at him. A part of him wants nothing more than to dash out of here, to find that salve he desperately is aching for, but there was no way he could leave his daughter to clean up by herself just because he wanted to get his dick wet.

“Dude, just go,” Vi grabs the bucket and rag and marches to the tables. He frowns a bit, crossing his arms as he contemplates it.

“Ya’ couldn’t sleep?” Vi shakes her head. “Nope! Milo was snoring and Claggor kept moving in his sleep. Powder must be tired because she’s sleeping through it with no problem.” Vi’s always been a light sleeper. Most of the people in the underground were. But Vander just needs to ask; “Ya’ sure it wasn’t the nightmares?” Vi pauses in her wiping and Vander watches her face as she sends him a pouty expression.

“Yes, I’m sure. I haven’t had one of those in forever anyway — just go rest, old man. I can wipe down tables and sweep floors by myself.”

“Are you sure — “

“Dude!”

The path he takes is always quiet. Hidden between tight alleyways and old wires hung too low — he rarely saw characters here other than the occasional cat or shady hooded figure but that was a normal sight anywhere.

The back of the building is less glamorous than the front but not out of neglect. It was purposefully made that way — fewer lights, fewer signs, and fewer girls spilling from the door. But he peeks up from the hood of his jacket and he sees the voyeuristicly lit windows. The shadows of bodies behind the thin curtains, the seductive glow and thrum of the others. The back door is not locked, it's just made to look that way so people feel dirtier pushing the heavy door open.

He hears a whistle and his cock honestly to god jumps at the sight of your naked shoulders. Your mask was askew, your hair messed up, and smears of lipstick on your lips, and your skin; Vander is envious of the cigarette holder you have in your grip.

When your lips wrap around it he feels the exhaustion melt away. Plumes of purple smoke pour out from your mouth; “Had a feeling you’d be comin’ over."

Vander laughs, moving to the door with his eyes still on you. “Yeah? Just knew, did ya’?”

You nod, placing your chin in your palm as he opens the door.

“Yeah. My ass has been wanting a good stretch the whole day, only gets that way when you’re comin’ over.”

' Coming over ', you make it sound like he’s a teenage boy sneaking through your window. Vander says nothing as he walks in and you grin at it. His silence was good — it meant he was going to give it to you just how you wanted. You finish the cigarette and slip the curtains close.

Vander liked his privacy after all.

The hallways are familiar, but he still thinks the wallpaper is a bit too busy and the creak in the floorboards should have been fixed. Saying it out loud feels a bit shameful. After all, how often would he have to come over to recognize these things?

He passes by a doorway guarded with beaded curtains and he ignores the moans of the woman who is being devoured by another. The doorway next to it has the sounds of leather rubbing against leather so he peeks as he passes by to see it shines under the low lights.

Reaching the stairs, Vander is greeted by Sevika lip-locked with another woman. He lowered his head, hoping she was too busy fingering her to notice. At the landing, there’s a wall of hooks, and on each of them held a mask of an animal. They differed in all sorts of sizes, and materials, each handcrafted by different artists. Customers wear them if they’d like but it was a must for employees.

The allure, the secrecy, the seductive notion of masked strangers sucking your cock, blah blah blah.

He grabs the wolf mask, slipping it on with ease, as he climbs the rest of the stairs. He misses Sevika staring at his back with squinted eyes.

“D’you know him?” she asks. The girl in the doe mask pants but eyes Vander’s frame through the wooden bars of the stairs. “Him? Oh, he’s a regular. Secretive, and never lets anyone else see his face other than the Fantastic Mr. Fox.”

That makes Sevika snort. “(Y/N)? He only comes here for him?” She can’t exactly blame the man. You were a talented little beast. Hands, mouth, feet, cunt, ass — every part of you was made with pleasure in mind. She enjoys having you in a headlock as she pounds into your asshole, enjoys your tongue inside of her and your filthy little words.

But just for you? This pleasure house had a gaggle of beasts for him to lay with. Hairy beasts with cocks just as big as their arms who enjoy plowing and being plowed. Demure little nymphs with a talent to make people beg for their cocks to be stepped on or to cry in pleasure. Tall beasts, short beasts, catering to every need and fetish a man could have.

“There’s a betting pool,” the Doe says. Sevika turns to face her as the masked man enters the hallway leading to your room. “About?” Sevika pulls her fingers out to pull away the negligee and kneads at her small breast. She shudders, arching her back into her but continues; “The Wolf and The Fox. That he’s smitten, maybe even a bit obsessed.” Sevika scoffs, rolling her eyes as she pinches Doe's perk nipple between her fingers,

"Poor bastard."

"I think it's — ah — cute," Doe retorts as she squeezes Sevika's biceps. "To you maybe, a smitten customer gets you more coin," Sevika grunts out, her tone light despite it.

"Falling in love with a whore is just stupid."

"You saying you don't love me, Daddy?" Doe pouts her lips. Sevika chuckles as she lowers her head to nibble on it. "I'll love you tonight, baby. Think that'll be enough?"

The door has the symbol of your mask, painted in gold. It's ajar, a sliver of light lighting the carpeted floors and Vander rolls his shoulders as he pushes the door open.

Your room is heavy with the smell of incense. There's thudding against the walls, moans of pleasure echoing despite it being muffled. Vander's shoes make no noise. The carpets on the floor provide more than just comfort. Discretion. This room and the others on this floor are all for high-paying customers.

He closes and locks the door behind him. He reaches for his mask but your voice stops him.

"Keep it on," you push yourself off the door frame, the beads clattering softly, and Vander tits his head at your sashay. Your mask was left on the bed, leaving your face bare, and Vander cocks a brow as he looks down at you.

"One of those nights?" His hands settle on your waist. The size of them, the roughness that's felt through the silk of your robe, it makes your grin stretch wider. "You got other ideas, Vander?" you muse. "Was hopin' to kiss ya'," he huffs.

The grip on your ass lurches you forward further into his broad chest. Vander's eyes are heavy, the shadows attempt to hide the desire but it's futile. He's kneading, hitching you up higher until you're barely on your toes.

Head tilting, he leans in. Your head floats away, hands still gripped onto his shirt as he chases and you don't give in.

"(Y/N)," his tone suggests a warning. But it's amusing. Here you are, in his arms. His strength keeps you in place and in the air; the mask is akin to a muzzle. Except he's fully capable of taking it off if he wishes.

The fact that you asked for him to keep it on is not lost to you. Your words alone held so much power over him. You place his neck between the gap of your thumb and pointer finger, barely there pressure keeping him still despite the yearning in his eyes.

"You're exhausted, big guy. Long day, yeah?" Vander nods at your words.

"Lay down on the bed. I'll make you feel good."

He hesitates for a moment. But your feet find the floor again and he begrudgingly parts. When he walks past you, you follow behind him. He pauses when you reach for the front of his pants, looking at you from over his shoulder.

"Take off your clothes for me, baby."

Your bed is shaped in a semi-circle. The curtain around it was drawn all the way back. There's a mountain of pillows and bolsters that welcome Vander's naked frame as he settles on it.

The trail of his clothes on the floor has your silk robes accompanying you as you stand at the end of the bed.

Vander tilts his head, widening his legs and stroking his hairy thighs. Leading your eyes to the thick dick that's already at full mast.

"Damn," you whistle. The bed dipped under the weight of your knee. "I know I'm good looking but you can't be that hard from just 5 seconds of laying your eyes on me."

He can't tear his gaze from you. From the marks on your face to the state of your hair; the bare skin that he loves to bruise and mark up — despite being told by you it's not exactly encouraged — Vander is convinced you're not real sometimes.

The arcane has been long gone now. Yet, here you are. Living, breathing, proof that its remnants linger in pumping hearts and honey-sweet skin. With just your voice, you make his knees buckle and his cock strain through the material of his pants.

Just the whisper of your name has his entire day derailed as he thinks and thinks and thinks of you.

Oh, (Y/N).

You're his undoing.

Gooseflesh spread at your touch and Vander groans as you settle yourself between his legs. That haunting touch makes its way to his crotch, ghosting along his aching rod, up his soft stomach, and towards his chest. It rests there and his heart threatens to escape his ribcage. The heat from your cunt has him sighing and settling his hands on the arch of your back. It makes you chuckle.

"Please, darlin'," he begs, "I been needing you so badly. All day."

There's no way you can deny him. Not when your cock jumps at the airy tone he has, that gravelly husk that comes with it. It peeks up, just as hard as his. He can feel it drag along his own and he tightens his grip on you.

"Yeah?" You nose at his neck, trailing your painted lips down. The hairs on his chest tickle your cheek when you place your face there, breathing against his perk nipples.

"Shit, yeah. Can't you feel me?" He grows a bit bolder in his next move. Urging your hips forward so he can feel your wet folds, forcing your stiff cock to rub up. The motion makes your eyes flutter close, sighing against his pebbling nub.

"For such a big man, you're such a teddy bear," you lift your hips, lining his thick head with your needy cunt. He laughs, his masked face tilting downwards as his blue-grey eyes all but glow in excitement.

"I've been told I am a bear," his words end a moan when you slip him inside. The bowl of condoms littered just about everywhere outside this room wasn’t there for decoration. They were there for the John’s and Jane’s who needed them.

But you know Vander. You’ve been the only thing he’s been hitting and you make sure the rest of your clients are always wrapped up.

Everything about him is thick so it’s no surprise you feel the twinge of discomfort as you accommodate to his size. It lingers briefly but once the mushroom tip of his dick is inside pleasure runs up your spine.

“Oh fuck yes,” you wrap your arms around his neck and press your chest together. He instantly embraces you, adjusting his grip to your ass again so he can help you straddle his legs.

“Fuck, baby. Your dick is so big,” and for once you’re not lying about it.

Vander’s a big boy. His thick arms, square jaw, the delicious shape of his nose; his wide chest and sturdy shoulders, and his soft but firm stomach. Fuck, everything about Vander makes your head fill warm.

His dick twitches inside you as you slide down. The snout of the wooden mask bumps into your forehead and you laugh as he leans in.

“S’fuckin’ needy,” he has no protests. You reach for the bottom of the mask and push it up, blinding him but rewarding him with your lips. His beard is soft. As you feel through it, you cup his jaw and he groans into the kiss.

More of him inches inside of you and halfway down, you’re pulling away to breathe. His fingers are going to leave handprints with how roughly he holds you; flesh spilling from the gaps of his greedy digits.

“Fuck, (Y/N).”

“Yeah, say my name, baby.”

Vander grunts when you fix the mask into place. When you lean back, he takes in the sight of the bump on your stomach.

“Perv.” His dick twitches again. So you laugh.

“Absolutely rotten.”

Your eyes slip close as you let gravity take over. Fuck, the way your hips buck up and twitch as he fills you up has his toes curling. You’re dripping wet, the thick and clear liquid travelling down his balls.

“You’re so fuckin’ hard,” he thumbs at your cock. When he uses his knuckles to stroke it, his mouth goes dry at the way it twitches and righteously stands tall.

“All ‘cus of you,” you purr. Vander groans, now idly touching the bump of his dick and you sigh as he presses down on it.

“Ooooh fuck, Vander.”

He rolls your hips, moving to ground his heels into the bed but you beat him to it. Your hands brace his knees and you lift up and up and up — his tip bumping into yours in the brief time it’s out of you — then slipping him all the way inside again.

Vander curses, his accent thickening as you throw his head back.

You chew on your bottom lips, savouring the explosion of pleasure behind your eyelids. As you look at his heaving chest, you cannot stop the sharp grin that crawls onto your face.

Placing one hand on his shoulder, you put your thighs to work. Vander is at your mercy. Panting and moaning behind the mask as he watches your work on his cock. Riding him, grinding down on him, using his thick dick for your pleasure.

Your other hand leads his own to a surprise.

Between your ass that he adores so much, he bucks up when he feels the base of a plug inside of your ass.

“Oh, you liked that,” you moan. All high and airy as you slow down into grinding, thighs burning. Vander is tugging onto the plug and your rim stretches as he teases it in and out.

“You’re gonna kill me one day,” he growls out.

“You’ll die happy, don’t — mngh — duh-don’t...Shit, Vander. Baby. Oh fuuuck.”

The exhaustion of the day has seeped out from him it seems. He’s leaning forward, caging you between his raised knees and firm front.

In one smooth movement, your back bounces on the bed and he’s on top of you. The acoustic of the wooden mask makes him sound like an animal as he growls above you, he huffs and pants like a proper wolf.

You share a long look, even as he rocks in and out of you and you feel your heavy eyelids threaten to squeeze shut. He braces onto his elbows, his weight on you making you whine and keen.

He takes the reigns and smiles when you reach to take his mask off. It thuds onto the carpet, mere inches away from your own mask.

“Hey, handsome.” You stroke over his cheekbones, gasping into his mouth as he kisses you. A particularly deep thrust makes you arch off the bed and it distracts you from his deft hands pulling out your plug.

“Your cunts got me all nice and wet,” he growls into your ear. “Perfect for fucking your ass then,” you whisper back.

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” He slips out and you whimper at the loss. You’re not empty for long. He taps his tip onto your winking hole and you chew on the insides of your cheeks in anticipation.

“C’mon, baby. Fuck me.”

“Yes, sir,” he purrs with a devillishly handsome smile.

He rights his posture, holding your ankles in one grip and folding your legs so your knees are nearly at your chest.

The stretch makes you toss your head to the side, cunt gaping as he fixates on the sight of your greedy holes.

Vander spits onto your hole and pushes in deeper. It makes you sing like a proper whore. Clutching onto the sheets while your chest heaves.

God, when he takes over like this — it makes you fantasize about how good it’d feel to wake up in his bed for once — but fantasies like that are dangerous. Vander is smarter than that, he’d know better than to bring a whore back home. Especially a whore like you.

His heavy balls slap against your ass. It knocks the breath out of you. You cry out, tears pricking your eyes when he strokes your dick. Vander splits your thighs and he holds your face with so much care you feel your heart pound our of your chest.

“(Y/N),” when he moans your name you want nothing more than to keep him here with you forever.

When he fucks up into your ass, you inch forward with every strong thrust. So he holds you down, keeping you in place as he stretches out your ass. The friction on your dick makes you even wetter. But you still hiss in discomfort as your rim clenches around him. Vander pants above you, slowing to a stop.

“Lube, darlin’?”

You nod, gesturing to the nightstand. Vander kisses you, pulling out as he turns and grabs the strawberry-scented bottle. You lay out on the bed, breathing heavily as you recompose yourself.

Vander lubes his dick up, eyeing your cunt a little too hungrily for your liking. So you knock your knees together, staring at him pointedly when he blinks innocently at you. “No double dipping,” you warn. Vander scoffs, grinning loosely.

“I know that, boy.” “D’you?”

Your expression makes him snort. He parts your legs again, smearing some lube on your hole before he presses his heavy cock inside of you again.

“‘Course I do. Your cunt’s just so sexy, can’t help but stare.”

“Yeah? Should I call another client and make him fuck my pussy while you fuck my ass?” You’re goading him. He realizes that. But the flash of jealousy that comes across his face is not something he can control.

Vander doesn’t respond. Merely grunting as he fucks into you. You yelp at the strength he’s using, cursing as you’re dragged onto his dick. Helpless as he uses you.

“Yuh - You pissed?” he glares at you but shakes his head.

“No.”

“Yer' a shitty liar.” You moan out his name as he turns you over onto your stomach, barely having time to process his movements as he pulls you onto your knees. He’s bruising you with his grip and when he spanks your ass, you know it’ll be sore till the next day. Every spank makes you tighten up around him. He presses between your shoulder blades and you are keen as he reaches deeper than before.

“M’just joking, Vander,” you pant out. “It’s all yours, all of it — all of me.“

Vander vengeance is in his hips. An unrelenting force that turns your body into nothing but a conduit of pleasure. Your gummy walls are torn between pushing him out and keeping him in — it doesn't matter, in the end, the one with power over you was him. There's bliss in relinquishing control. It's a whisper of voices, serenading you to a high that even the strongest drugs could barely scratch.

Or maybe you were just an addict for sex — or just Vander.

No seasoned whore lets their guard down with a client. There's a degree of trust needed. It's surface level. The bond between you and Vander — there's something oddly binding about it. You've heard of the religions scattered around the world. Of monks who abstain from worldly pleasures, those who worship an entire militia of gods, and those who only believed in one Maker; they spoke with such certainty of their beliefs. The punishment and euphoria waiting for them at the end of the line.

Fucking Vander feels like religion. When he makes your body burn from the inside out with a lust only he can quench — you're doomed and there's no one to blame but yourself.

That's a lie, you bite down on the bedsheets as you feel his balls slap against your cunt and dick. There's someone to blame for putting Vander in your way, (Y/N).

"Shit, sweetheart. I'm close," Vander groans. You moan, forcing yourself to reach back so you can kiss him. Vander feels his heart hammering, reaching to pinch your cock between his fingers to distract himself from these bubbling emotions.

Loving you was a freedom he had long forgotten about. Hearing you moan out his name, digging your nails into his skin and kissing him so deeply. He aches for you — his veins burn when he even thinks he sees you in the crowd.

He loves you.

Vander murmurs something on your lips that you don't catch. But you're too far gone to acknowledge your senses. You're so close to unraveling. Teetering on that edge of bliss as Vander holds you like he wants your bodies to become moulded together like clay.

"Vander, Vander — "

He slips his fingers inside your cunt. You gasp, feeling yourself clench around him like a vice as you squirt onto his fingers and cum around his dick. Vander is close behind, growling out your name as he thrusts in balls deep and floods your ass with his thick ropes of cum.

The both of you ride off the orgasm. His hips still fucking in and out of you in shallow motions that have your breath hitching with every drag and poke. Vander slips his fingers out and brings it to your lips — you chuckle softly, letting them inside as you clean his talented digits.

"How much did you pay the madame?" You nuzzle into his neck, relying on him to hold you up. He kisses your shoulders, his beard tickling your skin as his hands roam your front.

"Long enough. You sick of me already, darling?"

Don't think that's possible, you thought with a loose grin. Vander groans into your mouth as you grab his chin and kiss him.

"Don't flatter yourself, baby."

Vander looks younger when he rests. Not like a boy again, just younger. The lines on his face were less prominent and the softness of his body was more inviting. You're tracing mindless shapes into his chest, chastising the city of Zaun for beginning its morning cycle. The noises from beyond the window are beginning to shift from the noisy nightlife of hookers calling for Johns and booming music from clubs to the food stalls opening and wagons being pulled along the worn-down roads.

You can hear the thudding of Vander's heart under your ear. It squeezes your own so you lift your head and gaze down at him, just taking him in from a new angle. The door clicks and Vander's brows pinch but he does not stir. He trusts you enough to rest. For you to keep vigil over him.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" his voice drawls like a thick caramel. A seductive purr with a certain husk that tingles your senses. The tall, lanky, man enters the room and he is shameless as he takes the both of you in.

"He paid for the whole night, not the day." Silco comments. "He gets a pass on good behavior. What do you need?" Vander's hand is carefully guided to hold one of the pillows and you carefully move to stand.

Silco takes in the sight of you. Moving forward, he grasps your chin in his hand and tilts your head back; "He's always been such a possessive man."

"Yeah? He marked you up like this too?" He regards you with a tepid glance. "Sir," you add smoothly. Giving him a half-hearted grin.

It works. Silco's eyes soften, just slightly but it's a crutch you're leaning on. He likes you more than he'd like to admit and you're beginning to feel guilty for all these emotions brewing inside of you for these two brothers-in-arms.

"Did you learn anything from tonight, (Y/N)?" Silco looks past you to Vander. Turning his voice into a whispering tone that feels more romantic than he probably intended it to.

You contemplate telling him. Pursing your lips for a second before you lean in and embrace Silco, pressing your lips up his jaw and whispering in his ear.

"He's friends with the Sheriff. Grayson. But he worries." "About?" Silco's hands wrap around your waist, shadowing Vander's marks with his own. "He worries about the fresh meat she has on her team. Piltover's steady now but one incident and he doubts he'll be able to keep the peace, no matter how hard Grayson tries. The children," you pause and he turns his head to look at you. You gulp thickly, then continue: "The eldest daughter, Vi, she's getting restless. Dangle bait and she'll bite."

Silco stares for a moment. You take him in, unable to stop the grin that crawls on your face as he presses a long kiss to your lips.

"Well done, (Y/N)." His praise had once been something akin to a drug to you, a high you desperately needed to keep your doubts at bay. A soothing coolness that'll keep this rage inside of you to a lukewarm temperature; the promise that Piltover will soon fall to its knees to Zaun had been your motivation to live for years now.

Yet, your chest tightens and your stomach twists as his words wash over you.

"Of course, sir."

[thomaslittlegirl]

i could be. thomas shelby

you could be a good mother, but he doesnt think so.

warnings; angst.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

thomas lies on his bed, his triumphant smile after his orgasm only makes you want to make him feel good again.

his blue eyes look at you and penetrate into your soul; he looks at you as if he knew each of your thoughts and secrets, but not your desires.

shelby blows the smoke from the cigarette in your face and laughs briefly at how you wrinkle your nose.

your hand goes to his cheek and you caress it gently.

“tommy?” you call him in a whisper.

“yes, sweetheart?”

he looks at you in a way that makes you feel like you're floating. it's a feeling that can't really be explained in words and only those who have experienced it know.

you don't know how to ask the question, and until the moment it comes out of your mouth it is not a question, but rather a thought, a wish.

“what would you think about a baby?”

thomas looks at you with the smile still plastered on his face until he understands your question and erases all expressions on his face.

now his expression is unreadable, as if he were not thinking or feeling anything; as if he was an empty container.

“are you pregnant?” he asks; his eyes having a war with yours.

“no.” you quickly deny and you can notice how the color returns to his face. “but would you like it?”

thomas looks at you for two seconds and then the answer comes. “no.”

you let out a laugh. “i'm serious, tommy.”

he dont. he doesn't laugh. “me too.”

your hand stops caressing his cheek and your brow furrows almost by itself.

if this is a joke you are definitely not liking it.

“why not?” you feel naive, victim of a vile joke. “wouldn't you like to have a baby with me?”

thomas clicks his tongue. “no, i'm not cut out to be a father.”

the answer leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. the palms of your hands sweat; you were never good at confrontation... much less about topics as difficult as these... much less with him.

“what stupid things are you saying?”

“what you hear.” he answers, obviously. “we shelbys are not made to be parents. i'm not made to be one.”

“what do you mean you're not cut out to be one?” questions. “don't you plan for the future with me?”

he remains silent, also sitting on the bed like you. he ruffles his hair with one of his hands while throwing the cigarette butt into the ashtray with the other one.

“i'm not that kind of man.” he says simply. “i can't settle down, i have a lot of things on my mind.”

“what the hell are you talking about?” you claim angrily, pushing one of his arms away.

thomas looks at you, angry at your action.

“i'm not the kind of man who sits back and settles for playing happy house!” he says harshly. “i will not leave my lifestyle. ”

“fuck your lifestyle!” you retort, also angry. “you can't live being a gangster forever... you have to think maturely. for once! ”

“i told you i'm not that kind of man!” he says, standing up from the bed angrily, putting on his pants. “i won't sit down and play house... not when there is so much to expand, so much money to earn... it just doesn't suit me. ”

you look at him, feeling your body heat up with rage. “you are pathetic! this is all pathetic... how can you not want a home to return to?”

“my home is the brothels... the bars with good whiskey.” he points out obviously, putting on his leather shoes quick. “i won't sit down and rub a woman's belly... damn, i won't stop fucking my whores because of a baby in a belly!”

you remain speechless, looking at his worked back with nothing to say. really, for the first time, you are left speechless.

thomas puts on his shirt and turns to face your gaze. the puppy face you make almost makes him feel a little sorry for being so harsh... but at the end of the day; is it not the truth?

you feel stupid, you feel stupid and totally used. you don't feel like a partner but like a slut, like an everyday whore.

thomas's cum runs down your thighs and stains the sheets. feeling the warmth down your crotch only makes you feel like an unpaid prostitute.

thomas gives you one last look over his shoulder, with the coat under his arm, and before walking out the door he gives you his last word.

“you knew what you were getting into when you met me. don't try to change the way i am because that won't be possible.”

[divorceblogger]

I think the most difficult thing that armand struggles to come to terms with (re: his feelings about marius) is very much that marius seemingly steps into his life and performs actions that are, at a superficial glance, meant to be liberatory or empowering but are unequivocally very predatory if you start to dig into the meat of their relationship.

Marius rescues armand from starvation and sexual slavery at a point in his life when armand is actively entertaining thoughts of suicide. marius sweeps in, purchases him, and transfers him from abhorrent conditions of existence to a life of material comfort, although it’s not really a safe one, but at this point armand doesn’t necessarily have the ability to have a critical dialogue about safety with himself because he’s so glad to be rescued from slavery that he ascribes divinity to marius. he also receives an allowance and he’s taught swordplay. he’s taught swordplay. but what kind of harm could a child ever cause to a 1500 year old vampire?

And the material reality is that marius is not really interested in empowering armand at all. he actively fosters an unhealthy codependency between them, he withholds information about his nature, he performs sexual acts on him even when armand doesn’t necessarily comprehend that these acts are sexual in nature. he also strategises methods that he reasons are supposed to sexually liberate armand but these instances just contribute to the overall conversation on how he grooms him. armand is 15 years old when marius sends him out to brothels “to learn how to couple properly”. do you remember that he was supposed to be forced into prostitution. marius now offers him the illusion of sexual power by allowing him to experience sexual pleasure instead of offering it to predatory customers instead. but armand also says that he doesn’t enjoy the experiences at the brothels because he craves sexual relations with marius solely, to a point where he feels resentful about being asked to participate in these acts even when he derives sexual pleasure from them. he endures the experiences because his master gives him no other choice, but it’s also in these brothels that he discovers that sex doesn’t have to be associated with pain as it often tends to be with marius.

When he returns ‘home’ from the brothels he’s perceptive enough to understand that marius really sent him to receive a sexual education on marius’s behalf and attempts to replicate these acts on him. he unconsciously takes up the role of a sex worker, but again he’s a child, and it’s horrifying that he thinks he’s harassing marius by initiating sexual relations with him. it’s also not very surprising that when he does display sexual interest in other people marius emotionally shuts him off (because these experiences were never instituted with armand’s interest in mind) and these moments shape up to be very harrowing experiences for armand - he’s been taught to crave marius’s affection and never do anything that might displease him. armand often has to beg his way back into marius’s good graces and allow himself to be subjected to corporal punishment to achieve this. it’s terrifying that one of the first ideas the boys in the villa convey to armand despite the language barrier is that their master will never hurt him.

And the alarming fact about armand’s transformation is that vampirism serves to just further reinforce this abuse, even though, once again, it might seem like an empowering act. his newly acquired powers don’t change his reality - he’s still under marius’s control the whole time. he’s also further isolated from boys his age who share his interests, and his nights with marius are insular and suffocating. the corporal punishments continue. they’re now adjusted to account for his vampirism. “usual brain jarring blow” is a term floated in the book. marius calls armand’s coffin a “crib”. he very seriously asks armand if he’s ever been cruel to him soon after he transforms him. armand’s codependency with marius is in fact further reinforced by the vampiric transformation that marius carries out. so much of armand’s initiation into vampirsm is once again rooted in sexual instruction, once again evoking patterns of behaviour that are associated with grooming. it’s very in-character for marius to teach him the fundamental principles of seducing his victims before killing them. he also advices him to develop emotionally frigid relationships and never reveal his true self to the people he cares for, further establishing marius as the most significant figure in his life, as the person he constructs his entire identity around. how was he ever supposed to turn out well-adjusted?

[ruesol]

Lucid Submission - prologue

(feudal lord!sukuna x reader)

Synopsis:

The fearsome demon king, Sukuna Ryomen, is reborn as an immortal human man as punishment for ruining the balance of good and evil in the divine realm.

To lift his curse and return to his original form, Sukuna must complete the condition bestowed upon him by the deities.

However, it requires him to have a child with the street thief who stole his coin pouch.

fanfic masterlist

Inyo, ying and yang, Shiva-Shakti, good and evil. 

Every belief is built based on the balance between opposites. When that balance is tipped over or disrespected, there are serious repercussions, no matter what being committed the act. 

The demon king’s hair was like pink sakura, blowing in the harsh winds of the Realm of  Judgment. With his head hung low, all he could see were visions of the souls he had eaten. Clean souls trying to enter the afterlife. Clean souls that had the misfortune of having to cross his domain when he was feeling particularly ravenous.

The divine courtroom was a beautiful yet chilling site, with golden clouds and striking blue thunder visible from the Pavillion of Divine Punishment. A dry storm building static on every cursed hair on the demon king’s body. 

“The deities have decided- you will receive the ultimate punishment for ingesting all the human souls on that fateful day,” a black-haired god boomed from his seat across the Pavillion. Striking black eyes trained on the large figure kneeling before him.

“You, Sukuna Ryomen, will be reborn as an immortal human being. You will not have any of your divine powers on earth. To lift your cursed punishment, you will look for the other half of this divine marble.” 

A bluish, almost black, hemispherical object floats towards Sukuna’s face. The demon still didn’t look up. Pride and shame conflict in his head. “Only when you meet the human woman with the other half of your marble will you be allowed to lift your curse and return to your former glory. You are allowed one question regarding your curse. Ask wisely.”

Sukuna raises his head slowly, eyes filled with hatred and vengeance. “How will I know that the human has my pearl?”

“The eyes. The human will have eyes like no other.”

The hearing was then concluded with the thunderous slam of the Divine Mallet. 

Snow is a natural cushion for all kinds of sounds. Even the loudest of pants sound like whispers, which is why the entire town of Seion is so quiet this winter morning. Thick heaps of snow decorated the landscape of the little sanctuary in the valley, including a far-off estate at the edge of the dwelling.

Where a damned man screamed his lungs out. Centuries of pain evident in his bellows. His pale skin almost blended with the snow if it weren’t for the pitch-black tattoos decorating his rippling muscles- a reminder of the reason why he was banished to earth. His back flexed as he rose from his kneeling position. His much shorter servant, whose hair matched the exact shade of snow (save for the red stripe passing around their crown) presently on the ground, wrapped a thick robe around his shoulders.

“Master, you are a human being. They are fragile and get sick easily. Please, let us go inside.” 

The man wordlessly pushes off the robe from his brawny shoulders. Red eyes come in contact with the servant’s deadpanned ones. “Three hundred years. It has been three hundred years of looking for that hellish pearl. Where am I going to find it? I searched far and wide in all the lands and visited every brothel my pathetic human eyes could find, yet no one had the pearl. I have been driven to gouge out the eyes of every supposed beautiful woman. I am starting to believe that the deities are playing a cruel joke.” 

The servant simply picked up the snow-covered robe and folded it before the dampness could freeze it. “It is not a cruel joke, my Lord. They would not have given us the Scroll of Promise if it were so.” 

Promptly, the servant pulled out a tattered sheet of paper and read out what was written on it. Ancient scripture rolling off his tongue. “For the Demon’s return, he must fulfill the condition bestowed upon him by the Divine Council–bring upon the entirety of the cursed marble to the holiest temple in the land. The other half lies within one of the many mortal souls created by the deities.” 

“You do not need to repeat the words of those unforgiving scoundrels.”

“Do not speak ill of the Divine if you wish to return to your former glory.” 

The larger male stalked back into his estate sans robe. Probably to look for another brothel on the map. The search continues.

[am-i-interrupting]

Can’t Go Back | Silco x Reader

Prologue

Summary: You had a long, complicated history with Silco before he became the Eye of Zaun. You thought you’d buried it a long time ago. It all starts to re-emerge from the ground when Vander dies and Powder is found in the hands of Silco.

Life in the Undercity was anything but easy. Never had been, never would be. Things never changed down there. It always stayed the same despite being at the foot of the City of Progress. Piltover kept up with all the new trends but never tried to change or shine their shoes.

No, life was almost guaranteed to be dictated if you were born in the slums. Few ever got to a place where they saw the sun instead of smog.

No one cared about you if you were a child. You didn’t get any type of education. You just had to grit your teeth as you stumbled through life hoping to find something, anything.

When you were fifteen you got sent to the mines. They put a hammer in your hands or gloves on them and you were sent to harbor materials for a city that didn’t give a shit about you for fuck all for pay. Sometimes you made it out. Sometimes you didn’t.

You were considered a lucky one. You grabbed onto every rock and stone and placed your feet in any divot you could. You didn’t care that your hands were scrapped and raw. You were leaving a blood trail for anyone to follow if they could.

What you had on your side was that you were a smooth talker. Able to make people relax and enjoy your company was an art form you worked very hard on. It was the only type of study you ever did.

The good thing about Piltover not giving a shit though is when you disappeared from the mines with no trace, they didn’t bother looking for you. Took the words of the people who said you probably up and died or some shit.

Now you just needed to avoid the swipe of the hands that picked people off the street and beat them until they were submissive. Enforcers didn’t care what you looked like, who you were, how nice or kind (though few were down here), they just wanted you to work and they’d do it by any means.

Babette took good care of her workers. She scared the daylights out of you when she scouted you. Taking notice of how you managed to sweet talk a man down on his prices while simultaneously swiping some things from his stand without him noticing.

She had watchful eyes though. She saw things that couldn’t even be seen. That day she had seen something no one was supposed to but instead of turning you in like some would, she offered you a job of sweet talking.

Babette’s had a bathing room. It was filled with fancy soaps and hair products, stuff for calluses and skin. All of it was stuff you’d never used before and didn’t know how to.

The older woman had no qualms showing you how.

With bubbles in the tub and floating through the air, she dipped her wrinkled hands in the water with you, getting them wet. She flipped a cap open and poured a thick, white substance from the bottle. Rubbing her hands together it almost disappeared. Then she started rubbing it through your hair.

She explained that the solution was to be left in your hair for five minutes before rinsing it. In that time she handed you a fabric scrub to use on your body. After scrubbing every inch of your body, it was time to rinse out the conditioner.

Babette handed you a towel to dry yourself with and then ordered you to sit as she grabbed a smaller towel. She used it to scrunch up your hair, stopping the dripping from trailing down your back.

You let her careful hands travel across the planes of your face as she placed different cleansing and moisturizing products on your face.

By the end of it all you understood what she meant when she said that this was not just for the clients but for you as well.

With a giant weight off your back and a steady income from nights spent at her brothel, you were able to ditch the mines. Do a big fuck you moment of victory and renting an apartment under the table when you stopped paying your previous rent. That way when they looked for you as much as they would, all they would find was an empty apartment in disarray. Made to look like there’d been a struggle. You had no qualms cutting yourself to splatter some blood around.

Babette had qualms though, shaking her head the next time she saw you as she put an antibiotic on your open cut.

With a new job, you had a new income but the only reason you’d be able to leave the mines was the money you’d saved while working there. That meant a new job.

It came in the form of a bartender job at a bar called The Last Drop. It was a small, quaint little place. As soon as you walked in you felt a warmth so rare in the Undercity.

A man, a tall man with a square face to match his broad shoulders and physique was the man training you when you started. His name was Vander.

He teased you the whole night with smart quips in his soothing low toned voice. The two of you bantered with costumers together with ease. Him poking at your lack of experience behind a bar to which you’d respond with a clever quip and the abilities of someone who was a very fast leaner.

You didn’t notice a man sitting in a booth who normally sat at the counter but Vander did. He noticed a careful study being conducted of the new meat in the building.

Little did you know that both these men would change your life. For the better? For the worst? Didn’t matter. It’d be changed.

[fastlikealambo]

I wrote this on my phone so I know it’s not great but here’s a tiny sample of what I have so far:

what death can join together.|| Thomas Hutter x Black!Fem Reader x Friedrich Harding Fic

Summary: Every year on Christmastide since the tragic deaths of their wives and children, Thomas and Friedrich take a trip together to keep themselves from joining their loves on the other side. Their shared obsession with finding a way to speak with their beloved Ellen and Anna leads them to you in New York and what transpires cannot be undone.

Not a sample chapter but something to see if I can still write (it’s been awhile) and if there is any real interest in this fic before writing in full! Let me know what you think!

The german gentlemen were back again, standing outside the stage door in the snow. With your employer currently dead drunk and cuddling a crystal ball on her dressing room floor, it would be up to you to cancel tonight’s show.

“I’m so sorry gentlemen,but Madame Serena will not be able commune with the great beyond as she is indisposed. I would be more than happy to give you your money back or offer seats at the next seance.”

The haunted looking one (rather both looked haunted but this one in particular looked like Death itself was bending him over in this very moment) stepped forward, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Forgive me Miss, we are here to see you, not the charlatan you work for. If we could have a moment of your time, we would be in your debt immensely.” He said kindly.

You stepped away from the stage door, arms wrapped around yourself to keep warm.

“If it’s money required for your time, I’d be happy to oblige.” The other one said, a slight smirk that lead only to dead eyes lit only by the dying embers of a cigar.

“If you both are in need of nightly comfort, you will not find it with me. There are eight brothels on this street alone, I’m sure there is something to sate your appetites. Good night gentlemen.” You said firmly, turning towards the stage door.

“I saw you.” The haunted one whispered, barely audible in the falling snow.

“I beg your pardon?”

He drew closer to you, hands shaking so badly but voice and eyes clear.

“I opened my eyes during the seance, just for a moment and I saw you floating in the dark of the room, I saw your body contort and shake. I saw you and I know what I saw to be true because I have seen such horror before. Madame Serena is no more a vessel for the dead than a teacup is, it’s you. It’s always been you.”

You stopped and turned around, a shining smile on your face.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Madame Serena’s craft can sometimes play tricks on the mind-

“Your Madame Serena’s shitty play theatre keeps her in furs and warm while you are standing out in the cold with strangers in a threadbare day dress in a hand me down corset, woman. You don’t know what we know.”

“Friedrich!”

“Thomas, it is cold and she is not going to help us, let us be done with this.”

“Listen to your friend sir, you do not know me or what I can or cannot do. You are mistaken, please leave.” You said coldly, opening the stage door only for Thomas to close it.

“ I don’t have to know you to know that you are in between the living and the dead, a foot in each world but lonely nonetheless. I know that lonely horror, it resided in my wife’s eyes and I can see it in yours.”

“You know nothing of my horror.” You said bitterly opening the door yet again but Thomas stuck his cane in.

“We only wish to walk with you on your path to the other side one time, we have lost those we care for to an old evil and we just need to know that they are cared for, protected in death because we failed them in life.” Thomas said, eyes soft and wet, his friend’s hand on his shoulder.

You could, you knew that you could.

“I’m sorry for your loss, but I cannot help you.”

“Please, I beg you!”

“Thomas, no!”

Thomas’s hand around your wrist and Friedrich’s hand on his shoulder connected them both to you and in that instant, you were not in this world. Eyes milky white and unseeing, you were frozen in place, replaced by someone else entirely.

“Thomas, let her go.” Friedrich tried to sound commanding but there was only fear.

“ I can’t, she’s holding on to me-

“Thomas, is that you? Are you there?”

If Thomas could have dropped to his knees in fear and wonder he would for he knew that voice, had begged God and The Devil to hear that voice just one more time.

Ellen.

That’s all I got, please comment or reblog if you want to see more!

[19burstraat]

Random SOC Trivia I Gathered On My Reread

I'll be using this for fics, but it's fun just to read!

Jesper does not hold alcohol well (though this is according to Kaz, who is not exactly impartial)

Wijnstraat, Nemstraat, Havenstraat, Ammberstraat are all street names if you want em

Van Eck has been involved in trying to clean up the Barrel; pious. (Allegedly pious, I doubt he really is)

1/5 Van Eck (or general Kerch trading?) vessels are lost at sea

Kaz arrested three times at ten, twice at eleven, once at fourteen. Does stints in jail but it does not say prison (ppl assume he's been to Hellgate / another prison but I don't think so. He'd never have shut the fuck up about it if he had; I assume the Stadhall Jail)

Kaz's cane is lead-lined. I wasn't sure if this was canon or fanon

Kaz runs book on prize fights, horses, and chance games. Floor boss at crow club since fifteen-ish. Youngest to run a betting shop and has doubled the profits.

Gambling halls: Treasure Chest, Golden Bend, Weddell's Riverboat, Silver Garter

West Stave brothels: The Blue Iris, The Forge, The Obscura, the Willow Switch, the House of Snow

Van Aakster is the widow mercher who sees Nina to ease his grief

Inej likes orange cakes in white paper

Black Tips tattoo is a hand with first and second fingers cut at the knuckle, Razorgulls is 5 birds in wedge formation

Nina Jesper and Kaz definitely all have the crow and cup; the others don't

Jordie seems to like books

ridderspel and spijker are arcade games

Bilge, clams, and wet stone smell in the Barrel (per Retvenko)

Kaz definitely is partial to dogs; Smeet's hounds and the grey dog the Hertzoon household had, the windup dogs, the metaphors. He loves a dog metaphor sorry ur not real babycakes you'd have loved thematic web weaving posts

Geldspin is the cotton mill in Zierfoort, Firma Allerbest is a cannery. Both in Alys' name

Wylan was 8 when Marya 'died'

the black veil tomb is carved like an ancient cargo ship

3 flying fish on a grave: government. Palm trees and snakes: spices.

Inej's mother braids her hair with orange ribbons (colour of persimmons)

University a series of buildings built around the Boekcanal and joined by Speaker's Bridge (where people debate and/or drink). Boeksplein four libraries built around a central courtyard and the Scholar's Fountain

Shipping container at third harbour is a Liddie hideout; Jam Tart House is an old hotel near the slat that the Razorgulls use

Long scar across Kaz's right knuckle

Violating contracts and interfering with the market can get you hanged in Kerch; same sentences as for murder (this is. Insane)

Haskell holds court with his mates at the Fair Weather Inn every week

Belendt is the second oldest Kerch city and sits on the Droombeld River

Jesper was 7 when Aditi died

Inej has an uncle (who seems to have some sort of ringmaster role) and cousins; Hanzi and Asha

Kaz convinced a locksmith in Klokstraat that he was the son of a wealthy merchant who highly valued his collection of priceless snuffboxes, and that's how he knows what locks the rich are using

Hubrecht Mohren, Master Thief of Pijl, who Kaz doesn't appear to think much of; one of Haskell's old cronies

Martin Van Eck, Wylan's great great grandfather, was a ship's captain, brought back a big shipment of spices from Eames Chin and started the Van Eck fortune

Kaz and Jesper (+ other Dregs boys) taught Inej to fight

Kaz and Jordie are from a town near Lij, as per the 'Johannus Rietveld' exposition, but Lij is seemingly the closest major city/county so it's easier to just say they're from Lij lol

The last time the Council of Tides appeared in public was 25 years prior to CK

Kaz found Filip running a monte game on Kelstraat; he also got the clerks who turned over fake info, the fake attorney, the man who gave them free hot chocolate

The spelling of Zentzbridge lapses to Zentsbridge, not sure which is right or if they're actually separate bridges or if there's a lot of wrong quotes floating around lol

Dryden house symbol is the golden wheat sheaf bound with a blue ribbon; Van Eck is the red laurel but we knew that

Kaz taught himself finance and gambling hall rules

Church of Barter roof is copper and long has turned green

Church of Barter built around the First Forge / The Mortar, which is a flat lump of rock that's supposedly Ghezen's altar

Ghezendaal Hospital is. Idk. a hospital. Just thought ppl might want the name

[mythicmanuscripts]

Crybaby Aegon has to be one of the canon hc there is. Maybe something like Aegon thinking his wife or a brothel worker he’s been taken with is being distant and he panics and thinks he did something wrong. When in truth they probably have just had a lot to think about lately or just didn’t notice. Following up with a lot of attention and reassuring?

In NSFW form I feel like reader would probably tell Aegon to let her show him how much she cherishes him, gives him a bunch of kisses during love making and soft praises

God I love crybaby!aegon. I ended up doing this with wife!reader but I'd be happy to discuss a similar topic with a brothel worker if you guys would want that, so just let me know!

There's nothing too explicit in this but there's definitely some implied sexual content and also is definitely sub!aegon so I'll hide it behind a cut just in case

I think this is something that could happen very easily once your marriage with Aegon starts to become more of a proper relationship?? Once Aegon starts to submit to you, it's like a switch flips in his head and he has absolutely zero interest in anyone else ever. Of course he's also very needy.

The biggest problem is that once Aegon starts subbing, you really have to make sure to keep a close eye on him because he so desperately wants to please you. Especially in the start when he's still feeling like he'll never be good enough for anything and certainly not good enough to keep someone like you in love.

Aegon feeds off your energy and praise, his entire face lighting up every time you give him attention. You're the only person whose guidance doesn't feel patronising or insulting, and you just make him feel so safe.

He hates being away from you and that's especially try the day after he's done something intense with you. So maybe this happens after the first thing really intense kink thing you did? Like maybe you use pain play for the first time or bondage or very intense overstimulation. Whatever it is, it leaves Aegon floating in subspace and feeling absolutely incredible.

But then the next day he wakes up to an empty bed. You had told him the night before that there was a breakfast you had to attend with some other nobles, but of course this slips his mind completely because he's still groggy and he thought he'd get to spend the morning cuddling.

Aegon has never experienced anything as intense and hardcore as what you did the night before and while of course he absolutely loved it, he now suddenly doesn't feel so good because you weren't there when he woke. If this were later on in the relationship then he would have no problem ordering a guard to track you down and bring you back on the king's orders.

But this is only the start, where Aegon just starting submitting properly but he's still not sure how much he can ask for outside of the bedroom. So the poor thing little thing just hugs your pillow and tries not to cry until eventually a servant arrives inform him that it is time to get dressed and start the day. He does this of course, mostly because he knows you don't want him avoiding his duties.

Throughout the morning he keeps on glancing around, trying to see where you are because surely you would come find him? Right? You wouldn't just leave him alone all day? Would you?

Your day ends being one chaotic mess after another, and you don't get to see Aegon at all.

Aegon, meanwhile, is now starting to think he did something wrong or disappointed you in some way. He starts to think back to the night before, of how he clung to you afterwards and how you had to hold him tight and wipe away his tears. At the time, he felt safe and good and the right side of overwhelmed. He felt like you really cared and would take good care of him, but now that he hasn't seen you all day he begins to wonder if maybe he was wrong about that? Maybe you weren't pleased.

You dont know any of this is ongoing because you're far too busy putting out fires left right and centre.

Eventually when the day comes to an end and you sit down for dinner, aegon isnt there? You ask Aemond and Alicent and they both say they haven't seen him. A guards steps in then and says the king has requested to have dinner in his chambers. That immediately sets off alarm bells in your head and you tell the guard to ensure your dinner is also served in your chambers and then quickly run up to him.

You find him on the bed sitting crossed legged and hugging your pillow. He looks so small like that, like you could break him in half with one finger.

He looks up when you enter and he's apologising before you can even close the door. You have no idea what he's on about, but he's clearly upset and far too worked up to explain right then so you just grab him and pull him into a hug until he can form coherent sentences again.

Once this ability returns to him, he mumbles his apologies again and promises to be less needy. You still have no idea what he's going on about and when you say this, he eventually manages to get out that he thought you were avoiding him because he did something bad last night.

It breaks you heart to realise your darling sub went the whole day thinking he had upset you when that wouldnt be further from the truth. You explain that to him and he starts crying again, but this time it's relief.

The next morning you have a talk with him about it and he explains how bad he felt after waking up alone. You suggest a new rule that you always spend at least the morning with him if you've done somehow particularly hardcore the night before and while aegon tries to say this isnt necessary at first, he can't deny how much that would help him.

I think in the end you end up having to tell him that he's your good boy, and so you have to look after your good boy. If he needs you to stay with him the next morning, then that is exactly what he will get because he's your darling.

[mandaloriankait]

Sweet One

A/N: So this came to me last night after that new picture of Pedro as the General started floating around. Dear lord he's so broad and his hands are so big and I just....needed to get this out.

Taglist: @gothcsz @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @mushgloomz @ohhoneypascal @clubsoft @the-only-din-i-want

You watched as the soldiers strode through the brothel, the establishment where you worked. Another day of work for the girls while you managed the books, trying to make sure that the business side of things checked out. You glanced up from the books again to see soldiers in fancier dress walk in. Who came after them was an even bigger surprise to you; General Marcus Acacius. You had never seen him this close before, only seeing him from afar with the celebrations of his many conquests abroad. Now, he was standing mere feet from you, waiting for you or the Madame to tend to him.

He was even more handsome up close; rugged and broad, so broad. You forced your eyes back down to the books in front of you, trying to not draw attention to yourself. After all, none of them were here for you, only the women in the rooms. The Madame had hired you to run the books only, and for that you had been grateful. You're not sure you'd have been able to do what these women do night after night. You were so lost in your own head that you weren't paying attention until your name was called, loudly, by the Madame. A moment later, you were furious. “What do you mean, he wants me?”, you muttered fiercely to her, “I'm not a….a whore!” “Forgive me, but I never said you were a whore.”, a deep voice sounded behind you. You froze, turning around slowly, to see the General mere feet from you, staring down at you with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I simply said that I found you beautiful and that I wished to have the pleasure of your company tonight.” Your anger softened at the compliment, try as you might to hold onto it. The Madame just glared at you before nodding to the General. “Her room is right this way.” You managed to wait until they had left before letting out a flurry of curses. This wasn't what you had signed up for in the slightest, but it seemed as though that didn't matter.

You slipped inside your room, closing the door softly behind you. The General was standing at your window surveying his surroundings. “I will not force you to be with me tonight.”, he said, and you shivered at the sound of his voice washing over you. It wasn't that you didn't find him attractive, but your anger was still at the forefront of your mind. “I just…i don't understand. Why me?”, you asked quietly. He turned to face you, eyes raking down your curves unashamedly. “You're beautiful and smart. What more is there to want?”, he returned, drawing ever closer to you. Your anger slowly faded as he came to a stop in front of you, staring down at you intensely. “Are you willing?”, he asked, taking your hand in one of his large ones, gently caressing it. Taking a breath, you nodded slightly, and without hesitation he was on you, lips pressing into yours roughly, large hands curling around your waist. You gasped, allowing him the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, massaging your own and claiming your mouth. He pulled you flush against him, grinding his hips into yours; you could feel his hard length against your lower belly and you moaned into his mouth.

Marcus backed you over to your bed, allowing you to sit down as he disrobed. You moved to take your own dress off, but he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “Let me, please.”, he murmured, pulling gently at the straps of your dress. He started placing kisses down your neck and shoulders as he pulled your dress down; you let out a moan. “Gods, General.”, you groaned, tilting your head to give him better access. “Call me Marcus, please.”, he requested, biting down on your shoulder lightly. You nodded, almost overcome with pleasure as he sucked a bruise onto your pulse point. He pulled you up off the bed, allowing your dress to pool at your feet; bare before him, you suddenly felt shy and crossed your arms in front of yourself. Marcus pulled your arms away, staring down at you with pupils blown wide. He pushed you back onto the bed, shedding his tunic before joining you; he pulled you into a commanding kiss before trailing his lips down to your breasts. Sucking a nipple into his mouth, he groaned as your back arched and your hands carded through his hair, tugging lightly. He ran his teeth over it before moving to the other side, repeating the same thing that had you keening desperately. Whatever you had thought was going to happen tonight, it certainly wasn't the pleasure he was giving you. He kissed his way down your stomach and ample curves before licking a stripe up your slit. You cried out at the sensation, hands flying back to his hair as he nosed at your clit before pulling it into his mouth, sucking hard.

He slid his tongue into you, fucking in and out of your fluttering hole with a vengeance, groaning as you pulled at his hair. “Fuck, Marcus, that feels so good, please don't stop.”, you moaned, a hand gripping the sheets as he pushed a finger into you. He crooked it just right and you saw stars behind your closed eyes; adding another finger caused you to grind your hips against his face. Marcus could tell you were close from the way you were clenching on his fingers; his mouth found your clit again, tongue swirling tight circles around the bud until you came, crying out his name repeatedly. He worked you through your high before sliding back up your body, his cock brushing through your folds as he kissed you again. You could taste yourself on his tongue as it slid back into your mouth and fought for dominance over your own. His cockhead breached your entrance, stretching you more than his fingers had. You whimpered against his mouth at the sensation, holding onto his broad shoulders as he fed you inch after inch of his cock, finally bottoming out with his hips flush to yours.

Marcus allowed you a moment to get used to him, kissing your lips, cheeks, neck, whatever he could reach. Finally, you nodded up at him and he began to move, dragging his thick cock almost all the way out of you before pushing back in slowly, allowing you to feel every inch. His pace slowly began to change, filling you up faster and faster as he lost himself in the pleasure of your cunt. Your moans and cries of his name only spurred him on, trying to make you come on his cock before he lost control. “Come on, my sweet one, come on my cock, you can do it.”, he groaned out as his hips started to stutter. He reached down between your bodies and started thumbing at your clit roughly, his large calloused hand making your head spin with pleasure. “Please, Marcus, please, let me come. Need to-”, you were in the middle of a plea as your second orgasm hit you. Your back arched, your vision whitened, and you could feel Marcus losing control as he fucked you harder through your orgasm. He spilled deep inside you, rocking his hips through his own high as he groaned your name. He pulled out and collapsed onto your bed beside you, gathering you in his arms and pulling you close as you both came back to yourselves. “Thank you for being willing, that was just what I needed.”, he whispered against your head, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I would like to see you again, the next time I come here. Would you consider it?”, he asked, pulling back to gaze at you. Taking a deep breath, you nodded, answering the grin on his face with one of your own.

[itsjinkibitch]

I remember shaking and throwing up when we got the first glimpse of Aemond at the brothel thinking I'd hate it. Turns out it delivered to me the greatest Lucemond meal since last season. Butt ass naked in a whorehouse and Luke's name floats from his mouth. My soul sings in victory.

[cumplane-forever]

kinda obsessed with the idea of bing-mei actually having a father figure in shen qingqiu. like the concept of lbh being known as 'bastard son of the qing jIng peak lord' before anything else. normally I think this would be  a crazy take, but this is svsss so we can literally just punt shen yuan out of the picture. you could get a father figure out of him, but it doesn't work for me because bingyuan is Inevitable and unstoppable.

next option is shen jiu. honestly that man has too many issues to be a father figure without some work so he's not even considered at the moment. (there's something to be said about making him do it out of obligation but that's not the vibes here ok)

so both the shens are out. who else is there you ask?

aeroplane!

get that mf in there ('there' being the recently vacated body of sqq) with a mission of 'do not fuck up the protagonist'. he would have the perfect deadbeat dad trying to parent vibes. shizun + dad aeroplane. who teaches lbh all his tricks and swaps recipes with him.

(this would ideally take place in the same au as this post)

i'm imaging sqq slips up and calls lbh his son sometime after the initial transmigration. So now in binghes mind, SQQ attempted to murder him twice on two accounts

1.sent a baby floating down an icy river in winter

2.abused him and left him in life threatening situations(negligence of bullying)

taking that and the bastard son accusations + sqq's brothel visits, the image lbh gets is of a lecher who wants to get rid of his 'obligation'. so this cute white sheep finally understands that his teacher wants him dead and swears eternal revenge.

aeroplane is alerted to this advancement by the system beeping up with [protagonist blackening fast-track: initiated.]

'what? why?'

[hidden plotline : 'you are my father. prepare to die' has been created!]

[protagonist thinks shen qingqiu is his father. endless hatred has been established, and luo binghe now hates his shizun]

what kind of fanfiction is he in? luo binghe his son? he might be in spirit, but in what way could shen qingqiu call him that? are people calling Luo binghe that? what?? and is that the blackening starting early over there?

[does host wish to initiate a plot divergence? y/n]

[benefits: OOC function will be unfrozen]

aeroplane nearly laughs. despite his months of grinding for points, he's been unable to unlock the ooc function and now the system is suddenly changing it up for him and getting him a little leeway. but only after the protagonist has decided to hate him. he might as well make the best of it, he decides, so he accepts. continuation

[true-lavender]

Need the peak lords forcing Shen Jiu to get drunk and trying to make him spill his secrets while intoxicated but he still refuses to answer, they only manage to ebb away bits and pieces of information that open so many more questions.

Like, Qi Qingqi keeps on pestering him about sex and women and brothels and tries to be touchy with Shen Jiu to unmask his true colours but he keeps on not getting the hint and not doing anything to her??? At best he's stoic, at worst he quite literally pushes her away, clearly uncomfortable, and is like 'why are you so obsessed with sex, stop talking about it, I hate sex' and bro the amount of question marks floating above everyone's heads…

Or the way he flinches at Liu Qingge's violent outburst, covering his face in reflex and stunning Liu Qingge so badly his anger immediately evaporates and gets replaced by confusion.

Or him exposing one of his chronic pains by accident and Mu Qingfang being 'did you hurt yourself shixiong? May I see?' And Shen Jiu dismisses him like “No need, I'm used to it.”

OUGH AND WEI QINGWEI BEING A LITTLE TIPSY HIMSELF pulls Shen Jiu into a bro hug and Shen Jiu flinches terribly, pulling away, and that makes the man offended and everyone like 'wtf he just wanted to hug you, why are you so rude and prissy and a bitch' and Shen Jiu stutters an apology because no, it wasn't his intention he just reacted on instinct and he'd actually like to be hugged. It was just too sudden and he can't stand unexpected physical contact… Not like he says any of that so they press him why he reacted like this and Shen Jiu hesitantly admits that Wei Qingwei can be scary because he physically easily overpowers him so Shen Jiu flinched back on instinct.

The man opens his arms then in an invitation and Shen Jiu reluctantly steps closer until his front is lightly touching Wei Qingwei's chest and his face is hidden in the shoulder of the larger man. Then Wei Qingwei hugs him tightly and Shen Jiu shakily reciprocates, hands grabbing onto the fabric around his broad shoulders while he tries to hide his face from view. And it feels so, so nice getting hugged by one of his martial siblings, despite the still present fear of vulnerability burning at the back of his throat.

[mellowwillowy]

Briar has always wanted to see what's under your uniform, not under innocent pretense but a lecherous, perverted one. But you would never think of him like that and it killed his mood, too unbothered to have a take on you anymore. You were too good for him and this town and he wished the town would act like him, not bothering you in any sort of way.

Shady Bastards AU: Briar the Brothel Owner

Briar knew he had charm, alluring countless perverts with his face and body. It earned him some quick cash for a quick fuck, enough for him to have leisure time instead of working part-time in a cafe. This kind of lifestyle led him to be a part of a grander scheme, to become a brothel owner in the future and one of the underground brothel ringleaders.

Now imagine everyone's surprise when someone as angelic and pure as you were his best friend, perhaps someone he could only consider a friend. He wasn't close with Bailey in any sense, Darryl was just one of the many passing pale faces that were stuck in Leighton's English class and he only knew Avery as some sort of your sponsor. He was surprised to learn that you were still a virgin after all the years raised in this town and involving yourself with Avery. Hell, you being one of the many orphans from Bailey's family was the cherry on top. Poor souls, he would sneer to himself, pitiful bastards, raised to be raped and pay their guardian, like a fucking investment, as what the current Bailey would now say himself.

Briar didn't care. He wouldn't care. It wasn't like he was necessarily as protective as Bailey when it came to you, no, he was only looking at you as some sort of... thing, an object that he should protect just to sate his own satisfaction urge. Like a display object, he'd rather have it clean and perfect than dirty and broken. Briar was far from a good man so imagine to his surprise when your dead body was finally retrieved from the river.

Remy had sent out his farmhands to locate you, every tree, every river, and every cave had been searched thoroughly yet it took them almost a month to finally find your body floating in the river.

Briar was... he was...

He couldn't put it into words.

Heartbroken? No, that's what Bailey would have to feel, not him.

Dismissive? No, he was also tearing a new hole in the sewer, looking for you.

Furious? Maybe yes, toward the town, the farmhands, the temple, but to you?

Disappointed? You did nothing wrong.

"Why didn't you tell me anything?" Briar whispered to himself as your casket was lowered. Briar didn't want to think too deeply about how he felt about you anymore. He had been a coward all these years so why change now? Things would just be fine if he treated you as a missing display now. Right? Right? Right?!

Briar couldn't even think straight until he saw Bailey launch his punch at Remy. It took him a moment to get on his feet and break the fight. Right... all these feelings were supposed to be felt by Bailey, not him. He was never entitled to feel this way.

So he put himself up with it for 18 years. He swore he wouldn't falter unless he was given a second chance to pursue you better. You, not anyone else. It was just a passing wish, something that would never happen until he ran into you. Or perhaps someone who looked like you, dressed like you, sounded like you. The you a year before you changed and defied the temple and god.

Briar shuddered and stopped his driver, leaping out of his car and braced himself to hold you by your wrist.

A second chance... a second chance... he promised himself.

"It seems like you are lost, little miss, where are you heading to?"

"To the supermarket! I forgot where it is because this is my first time going there alone!"

"Who were you with?"

"My boss, Bailey!" you exclaimed. "He gave me an allowance so I'm looking to get myself an ice cream right now."

Of course, it's always Bailey first. Briar clenched his fist, his smile tightening. But he won't let him get all the spotlight anymore, no, Briar will play along now.

"It's quite hot right now, isn't it? I'll drive you there." Briar smiled and pointed toward his car. Bailey did remind you to never talk with strangers, let alone riding their vehicle. But hell, you did anyway because Briar felt so familiar to you.