#he can fit INSIDE the WALLS and we cannot

[mkstrigidae]

It feels weird to think that it's already 2025. This past year was pretty rough in some ways, but it had its good moments. The pic above is me in Samarkand, Uzbekistan back in March- genuinely one of the most amazing places I've ever gotten to visit.

I know I've been a bit radio silent lately- turns out a lot of my inability to write this past year was the result of a medical issue causing some severe chronic fatigue. I've got a handle on that now, though, and I'm hoping to be more active in the coming year.

I don't really make resolutions per se, but this year I'm going to try and make more art (and yes, that includes writing). I feel like in the chaos of the past twelve months, that's slipped a bit, and I miss it desperately.

For everyone who's still here, I love you dearly, and I hope you can carve out pieces of joy where you can in the uncertain times ahead. Go make some tea and a paper snowflake and hang in there. Thanks for sticking around 💕

[darkbluekies]

Cannot take what was never meant to leave

Yandere!king OC x fem!fairy!reader

Summary: Edmund walks out in the forest and finds something he never seen before: a tree fairy. Upon learning that he can't take her as long as her tree is there, he does the only thing he can think of.

Warnings: Edmund is a bit more insane than usual, reader is in a lot of pain, kidnapping, basically killing, use of an ax

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: this is HEAVILY inspired by Erutan's song "The Willow Maid"!! I have absolutely loved that song for ages, and after seeing PurestarMedia's music video of it on YouTube, I had to write something!! Edmund felt like the perfect fit for it!!

Summer is almost over. He can tell by a slight shift in the winds that colder times are approaching, even though barely any of the trees show any signs of autumn. He can't wait until he can bring out his thicker coat. He likes the colors of it much more.

Ten men he brought with him on his hunt for rabbits. They've decided to go into another part of the forest in hopes of finding anything.

Suddenly. A sound.

“Shh!” Edmund hushes and holds up a hand, signaling the others to stop.

He listens closely. It sounds like humming. It's a tune he has never heard before, but one that feels weirdly familiar — as if he has heard it in a dream or past life.

Quietly, they follow the sound until they reach a field full of small, white flowers. In the middle of the white field stands a tree with dark leaves. A scene taken straight out of one of the paintings hanging on the castle walls. Edmund notices someone sitting by the foot of the tree, resting among the roots. A woman?

The group of men creep closer. The woman is lying on the tree roots, leaning her head against the tree trunk, having a root under her knees for support. She's dressed in a long, white gown reminding Edmund of the small flowers. On her head rests a flower crown made of the very flowers. Her eyes are shut. Her mouth hums. 

A fairy.

One of Edmund’s men steps onto a branch on the floor, which snaps in half and pulls the fairy out of her thoughts. Her eyes snap open, revealing them to be deep and dark — and full of fear. She shoots up from her root and stumbles backwards, hiding behind her tree.

“Who are you?” she asks quickly. “What do you want?”

“You are a fairy”, Edmund says, still in disbelief.

“Yes … what do you want?”

“Have you seen any rabbits around here?”

She peeks out from behind the tree.

“What do you want them?” she asks and seems to notice the rifles hanging over their shoulders. “I'm not assisting you in killing harmless creatures.”

Edmund meets her dark eyes. They're hypnotic.

“You humans are despicable sometimes”, she says. “Killing innocent creatures who haven't done anything to you.”

“If I wouldn't, someone else would — man or animal.”

“I want you to leave.”

“Yeah, we should move on. We have rabbits to hunt.”

He can feel her eyes burn through his back as he walks back over the field of white flowers. He hopes that she will watch him until he disappears into the forest.

“Did you have a good hunt, your majesty?” his secretary asks as Edmund and his ten men come back to the castle.

“Caught a few rabbits”, he answers and smiles, thinking of the memory. “We encountered a fairy.”

They start to walk inside. 

“A fairy?” the secretary asks and holds the door into the castle open for the young king.

“What do you know about fairies?” Edmund asks. 

They walk down the large hall.

“I know that, like humans, there are different types of fairies”, the secretary says. “You found her in the woods, you said?”

Edmund nods. 

“She’s probably a tree fairy”, the secretary continues. 

“Yeah, she was sitting by a tree … almost like it was holding her”, Edmund says, furrowing his dark brows as he thinks about it. 

He holds out his arms as if he was carrying a woman, imagining her knees bending over his right arm and her back supported by his left … her head resting on his shoulder — like she had done to the tree bark. 

They walk into Edmund’s office, closing the door behind them. 

“What do you know about tree fairies?” Edmund asks and throws himself in his chair. 

“I know that they live in the woods and that they are connected to a particular tree. They feed off of sap from the tree and flower nectar — and if their tree bears fruit they eat that too.”

“What happens if they eat something else? Like meat? Or potatoes?”

“I don’t know, your majesty.”

“Would it kill them, do you think?”

“Perhaps. What I do know kills a tree fairy is killing their tree.”

Edmund looks up at him. “What?” 

“Their life source is connected to their tree. They live as long as their tree does.”

“So you’re saying that a fairy can become hundreds of years? Thousands even?”

“Could be.”

“Interesting.” He sighs and throws his head back. “You should have seen that thing. Before she noticed us she looked so … peaceful. She was resting and humming a tune. When she realized that we were there she flew up and hid behind her tree. All of that seemed so young and naive. Her tree wasn’t that large either. I think I’ve found myself a young fairy.”

“The fairy seems to interest you.”

“I’ve always wanted to meet a fairy. I didn’t believe that they actually existed. But now, I’ve found one. I think that I’m going to make her my wife.”

The next day, he returns with his ten men and his secretary, dressed in his autumn coat. On the way to the glade, Edmund picks a few flowers with the biggest nectars he can find, hoping that they will be a good enough gift. He is going to ask her to marry him. 

She is walking around the white flowers, picking up a few and putting them in her flower crown. She looks up as they come. This time she doesn’t look as startled, but there’s something wary in her eyes. 

She’s beautiful and delicate, there’s no denying. Edmund needs her. Every fiber of his body needs her. She needs to be his wife, to be the mother to his children. He refuses to leave without her. 

“What brings you back?” she asks as Edmund gets close enough, but doesn’t sound like she wants to know. 

He can tell that she wants to get back to her tree. She gives it quick glimpses and takes small steps back towards it. 

Edmund holds out the flowers towards her. She hesitates before taking them out of his hand. Her fingertips barely graces his skin. Her touch is humanlike, kind and delicate. 

“Thank you”, she says and smells them softly. 

He smiles. He wants nothing more than to hug her, to hold what belongs to him in his arms, but he has to ask the question first.

“I want you to marry me”, Edmund says. 

The fairy drops the flowers in shock. They disappear underneath the small, white ones. Edmund furrows his brows.

“Marry you?” the fairy repeats, shocked. “How could I possibly-? No, no, I shall not.”

Edmund stares at her, eyes darkening, unable to understand how anyone could turn down his proposal. Women would travel far and wide to hear those words come from his mouth, and this fairy — who does she think she is — doesn’t even think twice before rejecting him. It should crush him, but instead it has the opposite effect. He will not leave without his fairy. 

He looks over his shoulder, at his ten men. “Seize her.”

Just as the ten men are about to grab the fleeing girl, his secretary grabs his shoulder. 

“Your majesty, don’t”, he says quickly. “That won’t be possible. She can’t leave the glade.”

“What do you mean?” Edmund scoffs.

“She’s connected to that tree.” He nods towards the tree in the middle of the field. “She can’t leave it.”

Edmund glares at the tree. That damn tree. The woman runs through the flowers towards her tree, hugging it tightly. Edmund finds it humorous how she thinks a simple tree could protect her. He could do it a hundred times better, will do it a hundred times better. 

He sees how she sinks down by the tree, huddled up by the tree bark, crying. Soon, she will search for comfort in him, not a damn tree. 

“We can’t take her”, the secretary says. “I don’t know what would happen if we tried, but as long as that tree is there, we can’t remove her.”

Edmund doesn’t answer as he walks back into the forest. The ten men follow him. His secretary keeps a distance. Edmund feels like he could explode with anger. He had pictured himself leaving the forest with his new fiance hand in hand. But he will not give up. He will get his fairy. 

He returns a third time the next day. This time he’s by himself … and this time, he’s brought an ax. Determined to take her with him. She will be his wife. This time, he’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer. He will not walk away empty handed. The thought consumes him as he marches through the forest, towards the glade. 

He can see her lying in the same spot he had seen her the first time. This time, she’s not humming. She opens her eyes as he gets nearer and jumps to her feet as her eyes fall on the sharp edge of the ax. 

“No!” she screams in pure panic. “No, what are you doing?! Don’t!”

Edmund lifts his hands and lands a blow on the bark, cutting away a piece. To his right, the fairy screams in agonizing pain and clutches her heart. He continues to hit the tree. The woman continues to scream. She cries in pain. 

It takes longer than he expects. He takes his eyes off the deep cut in the tree and turns them towards her. She’s lying between the roots, curled up with her hands pressed against her heart, crying and screaming. 

“Please stop!” she screams and sobs so that her entire body trembles. “Y-You’ll kill me! Please s-stop, please! I’m begging y-you!”

If he continues to hit the tree, she will die. 

Edmund will have to bring a piece of the tree with him and replant it in his castle’s garden so that it doesn’t die — so that she doesn’t die. He continues to chop. She continues to scream, cry and plead for him to stop. 

A loud creaking echoes through the air. He watches as the tree bends in half and falls. The fairy stumbles upon weak legs and hugs her fallen tree, sobbing. 

With the ax, Edmund manages to dig up root systems of the tree. He holds it in his left hand and grabs the fairy’s wrist tightly with his right. He yanks her up on her feet. 

“You belong to me now”, he says. 

She only sobs for an answer. She tries reaching out for her tree, but Edmund pulls her with him. She stumbles. He drags her into the forest. 

“Please …”, she sobs. “Please …”

He doesn’t know what she begs for. The tree is fallen, he can’t undo what he has done. 

“Please, I’m in so much pain”, she pants. 

He doesn’t listen, doesn’t have time for it. He has to get her to the castle, where he can lock her in, so that she can’t escape out to the forest again. 

He can feel her collapse. Edmund gasps and watches her lie lifeless on the ground. He shoves the tree roots in his pocket and hurries to check her pulse. She’s still living, for now. Edmund stresses to pick her up. Her limp body rests in his arms as he runs out of the forest, towards the castle. 

He runs into the castle yard, into the hallways and out to the garden. He lays the fairy down on the grass and hurried to dig a hole with his hands. Oh, how he hates the feeling of dirt under his nails. He can’t think about that now. 

He places the root in the hole and covers it with the soil. Edmund runs over to the fountain, cups his hands and fills it with water. He runs back and forth until enough water has been poured over it. He feels for a pulse on the fairy’s neck. There’s still a faint pulsation underneath his fingers. He removes his coat and places it on the ground beside the tree root before lifting the fairy onto it. He caresses her face. 

“You actually got her.”

He looks over his shoulder at his secretary. He stands there, looking at them in disbelief and horror. 

“Is she dead?” he asks. 

“No, not yet”, Edmund replies  breathlessly. “I brought a piece of the tree here and I have replanted it. She should survive. But we need flowers — lots of flowers. And anything else a fairy might eat. We need to nurture her back to life.”

“I’ll prepare some honey water, I think that should be drinkable.”

Edmund sits by the fairy, waiting patiently. 

Hours go by. She doesn’t move. Barely breathing. Edmund wonders if he she has fallen into some kind of limbo, where the tree is barely alive, and so is she. If the tree doesn’t survive, neither will she. He has to nurture both. 

He feeds the tree water and nutrient dense soil and tries to pour droplets of honey water into the fairy’s mouth. Sometimes she responds by swallowing softly, and sometimes let it drip out of her mouth. 

Hours turn to days. Days to weeks. As the tree slowly grows roots in Edmund’s soil and become stronger, so does the fairy. Edmund doubts that she will ever become as strong as she was before. The tree will never be in its full glory again, and neither will she. She can’t walk, her body is too weak to move more than a few minutes. He lets her rest by her short stub. When he can’t stay with her, he watches from afar, from one of the windows. She’s always curled up, hugging her stomach as if she’s got cramps. The poor thing never smiles anymore. 

He holds a glass of warm honey water in his hands as he walks out to the petty excuse of a tree. It'll take years to become as big as it originally was, but it will never be the original tree.

“Hi”, Edmund says softly and sits down beside the fairy, holding the cup to her dry lips.

She doesn't seem to care what she gets fed anymore. Maybe she hopes that it will kill her.

In a sense, Edmund has killed the fairy.

She drinks slowly.

“I don't know what to feed you when winter comes”, he says. “I have harvested a lot of nectar and sap, but I don't know how long that will be good for.”

A tear runs down her cheek. Edmund wipes it carefully.

“My fairy, don't worry”, he whispers reassuringly. “I will figure it out.”

He wishes that she could respond, but he hasn't heard her voice since that day she screams in pain — when he killed her.

He stands up, gives her forehead one last kiss before walking back inside. In the beginning, he used to have guards watch over the garden to make sure that she wouldn't run off, but he realized that as long as that tree is there, she isn't going anywhere.

[moonlinos]

I can hear the siren (Siren part I)

♡ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Camboy!Hyunjin, neighbors AU, strangers to “lovers”

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), sex work, voyeurism if you squint, hate sex kind of?, masturbation, thigh riding, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, Hyunjin’s a bit of an asshole but I love him

♡ Word count: 7.9k

♡ Synopsis: To say your new next-door neighbor is loud would be an understatement. Three times a week, at the same time every night, he will laugh and talk loudly for an hour. After that, like clockwork, a cacophony of his groans and moans will fill your room through your shared wall. He’s most certainly entertaining some hookup, or maybe a girlfriend. You frankly don’t care — all you know is you want your peace and quiet back. But you never would’ve guessed what you would find out upon confronting him.

♡ A/N: Once again, I cannot shut up and this ended up being much longer than I had originally wanted. One day, I will write a one-shot that’s less than 5k words, but today is not that day. I listened to Taeyeon’s Siren while writing this, hence the title. Also think the song’s a little fitting to the story.

part II →

Yet another night, yet another two hours of hearing your next-door neighbor moaning like a porn star for anyone to hear. The thin walls of your apartment, coupled with the fact that your room shared a wall with his own bedroom, make it impossible for you not to hear everything that happens inside his bedroom. Earphones have proven futile in muffling his voice, and you can only distract yourself with mindless YouTube videos for so long before you give up and simply wait for him to finish. Quite literally.

You noticed it was his routine: Fridays and weekends — the nights when he would graciously give the entire building a free show.

But that wasn’t all he did. And that’s what stirs up curiosity inside of you.

An hour before the unholy sounds begin, he spends a significant amount of time simply speaking, laughing loudly, and throwing the occasional suggestive comment here and there. But only his voice can be heard, and considering how damn thin the walls are, you can’t help but wonder why that is. Maybe his hookups aren’t into his long, drawn-out conversations, only there to get fucked and dip as fast as possible. Or perhaps it’s a girlfriend, and he enjoys gagging her. Your mind has had plenty of time to run wild with theories, seeing as he moved about a month ago, starting your own personal version of hell on his very first day.

You complained to your landlord three times now. On the first time, you were dismissed as being too sensitive to noise. Maybe invest in some earplugs, she suggested. The second time, after explaining through gritted teeth that perhaps the entire building could also hear him and it would be wise to give him a warning, she assured you that only your apartment had such complaints — after all, it was only the two of you on that floor. And, on your last attempt before you ultimately gave up, your landlord all but berated you for meddling in your neighbor’s business. She argued he was inside his apartment and could do whatever he desired.

And so, you accepted your fate.

As you walk out of the shower, your bliss at the realization that tonight is a Friday dissipates as soon as it dawns on you that you are in for three days in a row of your neighbor and his antics. You groan, reluctantly making your way toward your bedroom, your body aching after sitting at your desk at work all day. So sleeping on the couch was not an option; your limbs only ached even more the day after you did that to try and escape the raucous noise.

Like clockwork, at exactly ten p.m., his loud voice fills the small space of your bedroom.

“I’m actually going out tonight again, so we have to be quick,” he explains. “But you like it when I’m quick, don’t you? Like when I make you cum so fast you barely have time to understand what’s happening.”

You grimace at his words, burying yourself under your blankets. God.

“I’m going clubbing with a couple of friends,” He continues. “Hopefully, I’ll find a nice girl to take home, hm?”

Crossing out the word Girlfriend on your mental notes, you scoff. What a gentleman he is, letting his hook-up know he’ll have to fuck her fast so he can leave to meet another woman to take home.

“Maybe I’ll record a video for you if she lets me. Would you like that, seeing me fuck another woman? I bet you would.”

What the fuck. The word Girlfriend is added back to your list. Maybe the girl is into that shit, and you’re not one to kink shame so long as everything’s consensual. But you surely didn’t consent to knowing that information. 

Soon enough, his voice drops to a sultry tone, and incessant hums spill from his lips. And the worst part of your night begins.

You hate to admit it — seeing as the guy makes you lose sleep and disturbs your peace since he’s graced the building with his presence — but his dirty talk, when coupled with his groans, becomes far less unpleasant and much more enticing. Every night, you struggle for an hour with the uncomfortable feeling of arousal between your legs, the way he alternates between praises and vulgar words causing a twinge inside of you. But you never dare to masturbate to the sound of his voice — that would be going too far. Or, at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you follow your rule of waiting for him to finish whatever it is that he’s doing to then finally touch yourself. As you tightly shut your eyes, you focus on your upcoming work assignments, desperately trying to drown out the sound of his voice. Maybe boring yourself to sleep is your only escape.

“Oh, I know how wet you are just watching me — fuck,” he groans, a breathy scoff leaving his lips. “Don’t even gotta tell me. Just touch yourself, it’s okay.”

Your eyes shoot open as it feels as if he’s fucking talking to you. You shake your head, the awful feeling of embarrassment engulfing you in the privacy of your own bedroom.

“I know you want to,” His voice is unrelenting, reverberating through your dark room, punctuated by heavy sighs. “Do it for me, will you? Touch your pretty cunt for me.”

You feel your clit begin to pulse, and a loud groan escapes from your lips. So loud, in fact, you wonder if he heard you through the thin walls as well.

Fuck it, you tell yourself inwardly, it’s not like the guy will ever know what you’re doing.

The sound of his voice was as silky and dark as velvet, covering you wholly and clouding your judgment with each word. You allow your hand to slip underneath your sleep shorts, gasping as you find the fabric of your panties already soaking simply from hearing his words — almost begging, guiding you to let go of your reservations and touch yourself.

“Just like that. D’you like the sound of my voice?” He asked, voice breathless, a deep groan echoing through the walls. “Like hearing me moan for you? Bet you’d like it even more if I was fucking you.”

Your fingers delicately flick back and forth, teasing your clit, your mind now shamelessly imagining his fingertips, his tongue, his cock, anything he was willing to give you. You’re quick to lose yourself in this imagination, despite not knowing what the man looked like — you soon realize that wasn’t at all important, a dark shadowy figure hovering over you proving to be more than enough for you as you felt a rush of wetness pooling between your thighs when your neighbor let out a louder, guttural noise.

“Fuck, I’d love to be stretching that pussy out,” He chokes out, and you bite your bottom lip to keep from making any noise. You’re now hyper-aware that if you can hear him this loudly, he’d be able to hear you with the same amount of clarity.

Your embarrassment only goes so far, though, as you slip a finger into your cunt, your breath hitching and your eyes fluttering closed to better conjure up the fantasy your mind had been creating. You imagine his long fingers inside you in place of your own, the words he spilled almost nonchalantly being whispered directly into your ears. One finger soon turned into two, then three, the heel of your palm rubbing against your clit as you tilt your hips up. You throw away your last drop of inhibition as you indulge in vivid thoughts, imagining the shape and size of his cock and, most importantly, how it would feel as it filled you up. Your neighbor’s words almost faded into white noise, his grunting the only coherent sound in your ears.

Would he take his time with you, like he always did whenever you heard him? Teasing you for hours as he candidly talked about nothing in particular, rendering you unable to do anything but beg for him? Or would he be hasty, like tonight, his cock abruptly stretching you to the brim, making you feel every inch of his thick length? Would he rather finish on your breasts, your stomach, or maybe your face, taking a picture to keep as a souvenir he could show off to whoever he was with during these nights?

“Come with me,” His voice suddenly became clear once more, deep and hoarse as you imagine his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “Think about how good it’d feel to have me come inside you, stuffing that little cunt while you milk me dry.”

You purse your lips as you feel your release approaching, coaxed purely by his words. The mental image of this stranger painting your insides with his release, all the while his intoxicating voice told you how good you were, how warm and tight you felt enough to have waves of pleasure wash over you, body tensing up as your orgasm surges through you.

As you slowly come down from your high, you feel your consciousness come back to you. Your fingers leave your core as if you were just burned by fire, which is fitting as a feeling of burning embarrassment wraps around you tightly like a vice.

But the worst part is that the shame quickly ebbs away as you hear your neighbor’s chuckle, the laugh of a stranger you had come to almost memorize.

“You know I’m always glad to make you come. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, everything around you falls into a quiet stillness. You faintly hear as he shuts his front door, presumably leaving for that club he had mentioned, and you’re left to lie with your regrets.

This has just crossed a line, and although you couldn’t bring yourself to feel all that guilty, you still knew it was wrong. You had no choice but to confront the cause of your troubles yourself.

Unfortunately, that cause was a person you had just shamelessly fantasized about as you fingered yourself.

The next afternoon, you stand at your neighbor’s door, hesitant to knock. Since he mentioned going clubbing last night, you knew coming by in the morning would be futile, but you also know — sadly, all too well — that Saturday nights are when he’s the loudest, and he only stops well past midnight. You settled for the afternoon, preparing lunch as you rehearsed your words in your head instead of enjoying your weekend.

You knock twice, and that familiar voice soon rings through the door, asking for a moment. A minute later, your neighbor is standing in front of you, holding the door open with sleepy eyes that focus on you. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but surely not a tired-looking tall man with messy black hair wearing a pout on his lips, as if you just rudely disturbed him from his sleep (how ironic). From what you heard during the last month, you were ready to have to face a shirtless fuckboy, a permanent smirk etched onto his lips as he eyed you indifferently. Instead, you’re greeted by soft cheeks and half-closed eyes.

“Yeah?” Your neighbor croaks out, face still heavy with sleep.

You clear your throat, returning to the matter at hand. “I’m your next-door neighbor, I—”

“Nice to meet you, neighbor,” he says before you can even finish your rehearsed opening sentence, his lips curling into a small smile. You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Somehow, him being so soft is making you hate him even more.

“I wish I could say the same,” you mutter, “Y’know, you’ve been making my life a living hell since you moved in.”

He doesn’t answer, instead running a hand through his hair, the strands falling into place and away from his face. After a small nod, he opens the door all the way.

“Come on in,” he says, promptly walking inside and leaving you standing in the hallway all alone. You have no choice but to follow after him.

He snatches his cup of coffee from the counter, letting out a tired sigh as he collapses onto the couch and takes a big sip. You sit next to him and watch as he swallows slowly, humming contently, and only then speaking again.

“Why is that?”

You hold back another eye roll. “Well, you’re quite noisy at night,” you hesitantly begin, only now grasping just how awkward explaining this situation will be. “On Fridays and on the weekends, you’re… loud.”

And in an instant, you witness a complete shift in his entire demeanor right before your eyes. Like he’s possessed by something, his once sleepy eyes now bore into you with an intense gaze, and his lips curl into the smug grin you were expecting from the start.

“So you can hear me?” He asks as if you hadn’t just told him exactly that. You feel small under the weight of his darkened eyes, but you shrug, doing your best at feigning confidence.

“It’s pretty hard not to hear you,” you answer simply. “We share a wall, in case you didn’t know. I can hear everything you do in your bedroom.”

He raises a brow at your words as if they piqued his interest. But he doesn’t verbalize it; instead, he speaks in that same nonchalant tone you’re used to hearing through your bedroom wall, “You never told me your name. A bit rude, don’t you think?” He offers you his hand. “I’m Hyunjin.”

You scoff but shake his hand regardless, telling him your name with a sigh.

“You know what I think is rude?” You offer him a forced smile. “Keeping your next-door neighbor up all night with how fucking loud you are.”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer. His gaze traces a path from your eyes to your lips before lingering on your thighs. You instinctively cross your legs, fingers smoothing down the fabric of your shorts. Locking his gaze with yours once more after a few seconds, he cocks his head to the side.

“So I’ve been keeping you up all night?” He muses, and you feel a warmth spread across your cheeks at the rough rasp in his voice.

It’s almost as if he knows what you did last night and is teasing you.

Although you know that’s impossible, your words still get choked up. Hyunjin was undeniably attractive — whether it was looking as soft as he did while answering the door or as if he could devour you with his gaze alone as he does now. You couldn’t be blamed for feeling flustered, especially after everything you heard this man saying and doing.

“Well,” you clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. Showing your outrage at this entire situation is your best bet, so you allow for the anger you felt during all those sleepless nights to seep through your veins. “It’s kinda hard to sleep when you’re moaning like a porn star.”

But Hyunjin fully chuckles at that. “So I sound like a porn star?” He nods with an amused hum. “I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.”

You let out a heavy sigh. Never mind anything you had thought upon seeing him open that door; Hyunjin is everything you thought he would be.

“Look, I didn’t come here to stroke your ego. You’re clearly doing just fine in that regard,” you grumble, and he scoffs beside you, leaning back on the couch with a smug expression you want to slap away from his pretty face. “I came here to ask if you could move whatever it is that you do to the living room, or maybe keep it down. I’m sure that’s not too much to ask.” 

Hyunjin clicks his tongue almost mockingly. “Oh, but it is too much to ask. I can’t really do any of those things. Sorry,” he shrugs, “The building has thin walls. You’re just gonna have to get used to it, I’m afraid.”

You stagger at his words, his lack of common sense seemingly higher than you initially gave him credit for. You’re unsure whether to laugh in sheer disbelief or cuss him out as anger slowly bubbles up inside your chest. How unfairly attractive he looks at the moment isn’t helping your case — he spreads his legs further as he shifts on the couch, bringing his mug up to his full lips and watching you almost uninterestedly with half-lidded eyes.

Fuck this guy.

“What is it you do that’s so important that you can’t at least keep it down? Can’t your girlfriend get off without your obnoxious dirty talk? Is that it?”

Hyunjin shakes his head dismissively. “Don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Your dates, then. I honestly don’t care.” You roll your eyes, which elicits a small laugh from him. You have never wanted to punch someone so badly, all while also wanting them to rearrange your guts. “Whoever it is, whatever it is that you do, can’t we compromise and you be quiet, at least on Fridays? I get home from work exhausted and have to put up with your shit when all I wanna do is sleep.”

“Ah, but Fridays are the most important nights for me,” Hyunjin tells you with a condescending lilt in his voice. “That’s also not possible, I’m so sorry.”

“I see.” You suck in a deep breath, your eyes narrowing and hands curling into fists on your lap. “Then would it be possible for you to move your… activities to the living room?”

Hyunjin contorts his face, shaking his head while that grin is still etched onto his lips. “Yeah, no, that’s also not possible.”

“You’re extremely inflexible, do you know that?” You blurt out, “I’m not asking that you move out, I’m simply asking that you fuck whoever it is that you fuck every weekend somewhere else.”

His piercing gaze lingers on you briefly, as if he’s carefully considering his next words. Sighing, he sets his mug on the end table and sits up straight.

“Let’s make a deal,” he proposes, carelessly ripping a piece of paper from the open sketchbook that lay on the coffee table and jotting something down. “Tonight, you wait for me to start my activities,” he says with a poorly concealed chuckle. “And then you go on this website. Maybe it’ll clear up some things inside your pretty little head. Can you do that for me?”

He hands you the note, eyes darting down to your lips once more before meeting your gaze. The tone of his voice is the same that echoes through your bedroom during those nights — exactly like the one that coaxed an orgasm out of you just last night, and you absentmindedly squeeze your thighs together.

You need to get out of here.

With a small nod, you swiftly stand back on your feet and walk toward the door of his apartment that was left wide open. You quietly mutter a goodbye as Hyunjin says something about it being a pleasure meeting you, all while amusedly staring at you.

It’s only as you close your front door behind you that you look down at the piece of paper that you subconsciously crumpled up. Scrawled in a messy handwriting is simply a website address:

fivestarcam.com

You furrow your brows, walking toward your bedroom as you rack your brain for how a website could possibly give you answers. It dawns on you, then — all the trouble you went through, and yet, no solution to your problem.

Ultimately, you decide you’ve already wasted too much of your patience on this man today, throwing the piece of paper on your bedside table and going about your day, enjoying the tranquility of your apartment while you can.

Night comes too fast, the sun setting outside unbeknownst to you as you lie on the couch for nearly three hours, your focus solely on the plot of the movie playing on your phone. Soon enough, ten p.m. rolls around, and you drag your tired body toward your bathroom. You take a shower with no rush, knowing full well that by the time you walk into your bedroom, Hyunjin’s activities will already have started.

Sure enough, you’re greeted by a drawled-out groan as soon as you enter your room. With a heavy sigh, you throw yourself onto your bed. Your bedroom had always been comforting, your bed almost like a safe haven from all the stress life threw your way. Yet now it’s simply the place where you lie awake for hours, simultaneously vexed and uncomfortably turned on.

You lie still for a while, Hyunjin’s vulgar chatter like the background music to your spacing out, until you remember the piece of paper he gave you earlier. How would a website clear up any of your confusion? And, more importantly, why should you even care enough to find out? From the little interaction you had with the man, you know for a fact Hyunjin will remain unchanging in his obnoxious ways.

However, you’ve always been too curious for your own good, and the mere prospect of understanding this annoyingly enigmatic man even a tiny bit has you hurriedly picking your laptop off the floor and typing out the website address on your browser. Curiosity killed the cat.

The first thing that greets you is a message asking that you verify being over the age of eighteen. All you have to do is click a button, which seems counterintuitive, but you have little time to worry about that when your screen is filled with preview thumbnails of several live broadcasts.

You’ve heard of camming websites before, of course, but you didn’t know they were still a thing nowadays, what with the rise of Only Fans and other more independent ways to go about making money like this.

Your eyes scan the page with agape lips. Men and women — some in their underwear and some already naked, some showing their faces and some wearing masks. And then, your eyes land on a particular thumbnail. At the Top Cammers of The Month section, on the number one spot, is a fully clothed man with familiar long black hair. Only the bottom of his face can be seen due to his camera angle, but that is more than enough as your gaze fixes on his full lips.

That’s undeniably Hyunjin. Your neighbor, Hyunjin.

Before you can make sense of your actions, your fingers are already hovering above the touchpad as you watch the thumbnail image change into a new one. Curiosity is eating away at you, and you can’t deny that your nosy mind is eager to finally see Hyunjin rather than only hear him.

Ultimately, you decide this is ridiculous.

But your twitching fingers brush against the touchpad just as you move to close your laptop, promptly clicking the live video, your screen now filled with the image of Hyunjin in his bedroom. He’s shirtless now, palming himself through his sweatpants — the same ones he wore this afternoon.

“You wanna know how clubbing went last night?” He says with a grin, and you now understand his incessant talking is merely him answering comments from his viewers. Various different names fly through the right side of your screen, some with tips attached to their comments and some simply drooling over Hyunjin as he essentially sits in front of the camera doing nothing.

A cocky smile is spread on his lips once you shift your attention back to him.

“I guess you’re good at following orders,” he chuckles. You then realize your laptop’s volume is on high, and the speaker’s noise permeates through your wall and into Hyunjin’s bedroom. Your eyes shoot open, and you scramble to find your earphones in your bed.

You’re gnawing on your bottom lip as you plug them in, suddenly too aware of the fact that he can hear you just as well as you can hear him. Hyunjin’s smile shifts into a small laugh, his hand wrapping around his length through his sweatpants, the firm outline of his cock straining against the fabric. You feel a tingling sensation spread through your body, your inner muscles clenching as you watch the way his hand squeezes along the thick outline, the muscles of his stomach contracting as he lets out a broken sigh.

This feels wrong, as if you’re nothing more than a pervert watching Hyunjin for your own pleasure. But then again, it was he who gave you the website address in the first place. Why else would he have done that if not for you to watch him?

“I have a special someone watching tonight,” he murmurs, and you can just imagine his gaze right now — his eyes hooded and piercing, locked onto the camera with the same intensity as when he looked at you earlier today.

Hyunjin’s hand reaches inside his sweatpants, withdrawing his cock from the constraints of the dark fabric before you can make sense of what’s happening. Your gaze remains fixed, unable to look away from the red, swollen head that stands out against his pale skin. With lazy movements, he begins stroking himself, the precum dripping from the tip easing the glide of his hand. You bite the inside of your cheek as more arousal leaks from you, gathering in your panties.

“Hope she likes watching just as much as she liked listening to me last night,” Hyunjin rasps out, and you immediately close your laptop, throwing it to the side before burying your face in your pillow.

He knows you got off to his voice. He has to know.

And, unfortunately, your brain is currently too clouded by lust to function properly, and the only logical solution you can come up with is to go knocking at his door tomorrow.

You stand in front of Hyunjin’s door at the same time as yesterday, a strange blend of anger and curiosity making you knock frantically until he answers with that annoyingly alluring smirk on his lips.

“Did you enjoy the show last night?” Hyunjin asks before you can even utter a word, his voice filled with a goading tone.

You push past him, walking into his apartment with a scowl. “Why did you send me that?”

He only shrugs, closing the door behind him before stretching his arms above his head with a sigh. “Needed you to understand why I can’t just stop doing what I do. It’s my job,” he reasons, “I figured showing you was more effective than telling you.”

A scoff involuntarily falls from your lips, and you fight back the urge to roll your eyes. “So you just sent me to a website full of porn without even asking me if that was okay? I don’t care if that’s your fucking job, I never asked you—”

“Did you stay till the end?” He asks, a lazy grin on his lips as his gaze wanders across your face. Clearly, he’d completely ignored every word that came out of your mouth.

“Hyunjin, are you even listening to me?”

“I was thinking about you, y’know?” He continues, taking a step toward you. “Was really easy to come when I knew you were watching me.” He cages your body against the door with his, both hands resting beside your head. His dark gaze locks onto you, causing your breath to hitch. “All I could think about was how you were secretly listening to me all this time. Such a dirty girl.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. You want to tell him you weren’t secretly listening to him; you were merely thrown into this situation against your will. But his gaze shifts from your eyes to your lips, lingering before roaming over the swell of your breasts, causing your thoughts to blur and your words to die in your throat.

“Kept thinking about how I never heard you,” he says, almost as if he’s wondering aloud. “When was the last time someone fucked you properly?”

His gaze finally travels back up to yours, and the fog of desire clouding his eyes is unmistakable. The moment you knocked on his door, you knew this would happen. You weren’t naïve, and Hyunjin wasn’t stupid; the moment you pushed past him and into his apartment, you both knew where this was going.

“Don’t have time to go on dates,” you murmur as Hyunjin leans down, humming low on his throat.

“Well,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath tickling your face. “You got to listen to me, got to watch me… Don’t you wanna know what it feels like?”

You can only nod, and Hyunjin immediately presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss. He wedges his knee firmly between your thighs, as if he’s silently demanding that you give in to him. Little does he know you’re already way past that point.

Breaking the kiss, Hyunjin studies your features for a beat, the pad of his thumb gliding across your bottom lip as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“You really want this?” He asks, and you can’t help but feel he does it simply for the pleasure of hearing you beg.

But you happily comply either way.

“Please,” you breathe out, and Hyunjin chuckles, firmly pressing his thumb into your mouth and watching as you wrap your lips around it with a contented hum. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

Hyunjin pushes his thigh against your core, the seam of your shorts creating a delicious friction against your clit. You can feel the warmth of his body as he presses up against you, and a sigh falls from your lips, your hands gliding up around his shoulders. You have no reservations left in your body; the only thing replaying inside your mind at the moment is the image of Hyunjin’s cock on your laptop. He was right. You were dying to know what it would feel like.

His strong hands firmly gripped onto your hips, guiding you to move against his thigh, each back-and-forth motion increasing the pressure on your aching clit. It felt too much, yet not enough at the same time. But just as you’re about to plead for more, Hyunjin’s pressing his lips to yours again and swallowing down your voice. His tongue slides against yours, the taste of coffee and smoke lingering in your mouth as he grazes your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling gently before letting go.

You feel your mind go fully hazy as Hyunjin lifts his thigh, bringing you up to your tiptoes, his muscles flexing and prompting you to roll your hips faster, harder.

“Who would’ve thought, huh? Just minutes ago you were acting like I was the worst person alive,” He lets out a low chuckle, amused, and your grip on his neck tightens as you feel the familiar vexation he brings out of you bubble up inside your chest. “Now you’re humping my leg like a bitch in heat.”

“Shut up,” you choke out, your brain too lust-hazed to conjure up a better response. You don’t particularly care what he thinks of you so long as he keeps his bruising grip on your skin, guiding you to roll your hips against him.

Hyunjin trails kisses down the skin of your neck, settling at the dip of your collarbone and sucking on the skin while you eagerly quicken your speed. His teeth nip at the sensitive skin, undoubtedly marking you, while his thigh begins to bounce against your cunt, and you can feel the familiar aching warmth of your orgasm beginning to tighten in your stomach. But just as you’re about to be hit by the release you’re so desperate for, Hyunjin’s hands leave your hips and slide down to your ass, any stimulation you had before coming to a halt as he picks you up and makes his way to the living room.

“What the fuck?” You all but yell, earning you a hearty laugh from Hyunjin. “I was close, you asshole.”

He roughly throws you onto the couch, a condescending pout etched onto his lips.

“But that’s no fun for me, is it, baby?” He hovers over you, spreading your thighs apart and slotting himself between them. In stark contrast to his words, he gently lifts your shirt over your head, feather-light touch sending shivers down your spine. “Greedy girls don’t get to come.”

You feel your insides clenching at his words, and although you despise the effect he has on you, you’re already here, laid out before him, so you might as well indulge him. You gently push Hyunjin back until he sinks into the sofa, legs lazily spread apart and half-lidded eyes fixated on you. As soon as you clutch at his shirt, he promptly tugs it over his head in one fluid motion, and you attach your lips to the bare skin of his stomach, trailing kisses down the expanse of his torso.

You waste no time tugging his sweatpants down and out of your way, his cock now hanging heavily before you, just as pretty as it had seemed on that little screen. Hyunjin’s hand soon wraps around himself, stroking lazily while you watch the precum dribble from his tip. Tentatively, you grab the base of his cock, bringing your tongue to the head and tantalizingly lapping at it. Hyunjin lets out a quiet gasp, his own hand leaving his length and tangling in your hair, guiding you forward toward his cock. You part your lips and suck the head into your waiting mouth, hands now stroking his length at a slow pace while you lick up his slit, the salty taste lingering on your tongue. You hold back a chuckle when you feel him twitch under your touch, a soft whimper falling from his throat.

Hyunjin’s hips buck up into your lips, and you promptly open your jaw wider and slide his whole length down your throat slowly. You weren’t lying when you said you had no time for dates, which is why you find yourself struggling a bit. It truly had been a while since you had a proper fuck, but you would never give Hyunjin the pleasure of hearing you admit it. Breathing through your nose, you’re finally able to move up and down his cock, swallowing all of him. Your eyes well up as his fingers tug harshly at your hair, shoving your mouth back down the entirety of his thick length. A choked-out whimper falls from your throat, and you instinctively move your gaze toward his.

“God,” he rasps out, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip and eyebrows knitting together. “You take me so well.”

You promptly remove your lips from him with a loud pop, precum and saliva dribbling down your chin as you struggle to suppress a laugh at the utter indignation on his face.

“I doubt you could fuck me if I let you come,” you shrug, and Hyunjin’s expression softens, a scoff falling from his lips.

Before you can say anything else, he’s already pushed you back onto the couch, easily flipping you over so your face is pressed into the cushion. He snakes a hand under your stomach and lifts your hips, quickly working to rid you of your shorts before pressing his cock against your clothed ass.

He leans down, lips pressed against your ear — much like it was in your fantasy back in your bedroom — and whispers, “You need me that badly? I can feel how soaked you are, and all you did was hump my leg.”

You grumble under your breath, but it goes ignored by Hyunjin as he grips your hips and slides his cock under the fabric of your panties, stroking himself along your soaking slit with a low groan. You can feel your underwear gradually dampen more as his precum mixes with your own arousal, the sheer cloth clinging to his cock with each thrust.

Hyunjin’s hand splayed across your lower back, causing you to arch your body and press your hips back instinctively. He chuckles, hand coming down onto the supper flesh of your ass with no warning, a sharp whimper falling from your lips.

“I told you greedy girls don’t get to come,” He reiterates, clicking his tongue and grabbing a large handful of your ass before tugging your panties down your legs. You quietly hoped the trees outside obscured enough of his window, otherwise you’d be in for some interesting elevator rides with your other neighbors. With a hiss, Hyunjin’s thumb presses against your clit before gliding along your wet folds. “Soaking wet,” he mutters, eyes glazed over while he watches your slick coat his finger.

You simply hum, not wanting to stroke his ego any more than you already had by begging him earlier. But you’re unable to contain the gasp that leaves your lips as he pushes his hips forward, the swollen tip of his cock gliding against your warm core once, twice, all while Hyunjin’s hands travel across your ass and thighs. You’re sure he’ll tease you until you give in and beg, but it seems his facade is quick to crumble. He impatiently wraps a hand around his length, finally guiding himself toward your entrance, seamlessly gliding into you with a heavy sigh.

He stills for a second, gaze transfixed by the way your cunt stretches around his thick cock. Until he suddenly pulls out of you before snapping his hips forward again, then again, until he sets a rhythm of deep, fast strokes that have you rocking back and forth on the couch. Pulling yourself up to rest on your forearms, you choke out a loud moan, Hyunjin’s cock twitching inside you at the sound. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” He groans, strong arms encircling your body once more, this time pulling you close to him until your back presses against his chest. Hyunjin’s thrusts grew more forceful, the sound of skin slapping together echoing through his small living room as he relentlessly pumped himself into you. His hand wraps in your hair, yanking your head back and humming against your ear, “Go on, you can moan for me,” he hisses, “I know how good it feels.”

Fuck. His ego is surely something you would never get used to.

But you let go, freely groaning at the feeling of his cock pistoning into you. You can feel the curve of his grin against your cheek.

“Like that, I know how much you like it,” he rasps out, “Just as much as you liked touching yourself to my voice like a little slut.”

“Fuck off, you—” you huff, your words cut off by a drawn-out mewl as Hyunjin’s fingers firmly pressed down on your clit, flattening the swollen bud. You couldn’t control yourself after that, desperate whimpers and choked-out moans falling from your lips with each harsh thrust of his hips.

Your sounds seem to stir something inside of him, and his movements grow more erratic, his fingers circling your clit hastily. A crescendo of arousal and pleasure envelops you as more curses tumble from Hyunjin’s lips against your ear, his hand gripping your cheek and pulling you into a messy kiss.

You clench around him, body shaking with the force of your climax as you seek Hyunjin’s arm wrapped around your body for purchase. He continues pounding into you, and you feel yourself squirm, your vision going blurry from the stimulation.

“Gonna come,” he hisses against your lips, “Where do you want it?”

And you’re too far gone at this point, whimpering, “Anywhere you want.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath, pulling out while his hand finds your lower back once more, pushing you onto the couch before flipping your pliant body over so you’re facing him. You watch with hazy eyes as he strokes himself feverishly over your body, his cum soon shooting onto your breasts.

His unreadable gaze lingers on you for a beat and a half before he nonchalantly tucks himself back into his sweatpants and heads toward the hallway. You sit up on the couch, limbs aching, and chuckle to yourself. This was not your proudest moment, but you surely didn’t regret it.

You don’t expect aftercare from someone like him, so you resign yourself to searching for your discarded shirt. But Hyunjin’s tall frame appears before you, towel in hand before you can even stand up. His touch is gentle as he cleans your chest, and although the gesture is somewhat sweet, it feels extremely awkward.

“Really liked fucking you,” he tells you with a grin, “But you gotta leave now. I’m going live later, and I also gotta go to the club tonight, so I have to rest. But it was fun.”

And you simply scoff at his words, rising to your feet to dress yourself as quickly as possible. It was a bit baffling how he could fuck you the way he did, then tell you he’s off to pick up more girls at a club immediately after. But what did you expect? Hyunjin’s ego and arrogance were clear to you from day one.

“Why the fuck do you go clubbing so much, anyway?” You question as you head toward the front door, and Hyunjin chuckles behind you. “Is that your hunting ground or something?”

“You could say that,” he simply says.

As you unlock his door and step out into the hallway, Hyunjin’s voice calls out to you. Turning to look at him, you’re met with that familiar smirk adorning his lips.

“We can do this again anytime you want,” he assures, and the mere thought of letting him touch you again makes you roll your eyes in disdain.

“Yeah right.”

If only you knew then just how awfully torturous it would be to listen to him, knowing what he was doing — most importantly, knowing what it felt like to have him.

Lust completely clouds your judgment when it comes to Hyunjin, and you soon find yourself coming back to his apartment until it becomes an annoyingly pleasurable habit.

Every day, when he hears you get home from work, your phone buzzes with a text asking that you come over and help him ‘warm up for his job.’ The nights of suffering in your bedroom have transformed into watching him from the corner of his room, enthralled with the way he can make himself come on camera so eagerly and later fuck you with just as much vigor.

It’s a nice arrangement, but definitely not one you see yourself in for the long run. Hyunjin might kiss you and hold you close as he fucks you, but you’re not foolish enough to anchor your feelings to someone like him. It’s not his job that’s the problem, but mostly his attitude toward life. He belongs to nobody, while you yearn to belong to someone. Routine is the last thing on his mind, while you revel in its comfort. You could never be with someone like him.

But it is a nice arrangement.

So you find yourself back in his bed again today, his heavy cock in your mouth as he tugs harshly on your hair, painting the back of your throat with his cum. Except this time, he doesn’t immediately ask you to leave.

“What?” You ask, “Don’t you have to go clubbing or something?”

“It’s my day off,” he shrugs, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close and falls back into bed. You furrow your brows, detangling yourself from him.

“Day off? From what, picking up girls?”

Hyunjin chuckles, eyes sleepy. “I work at the club,” he simply says. “I’m a host, I just act like I go clubbing when I talk about it during my lives ‘cause my viewers can be a bit stalkery.”

“What?”

“Have you heard of The Siren?” He asks, and you hum, recalling a faint memory of some of your co-workers mentioning the club in passing. “That’s where I work.”

You nod slowly, still confused. “What exactly does a host do?”

“Well, basically, I get to make money just by making lonely women feel wanted.”

You can’t help but scoff at his crude description. “And do you fuck them?”

“Well, yeah,” he answers like it’s obvious. “It’s part of the job.”

“Fucking hell,” You let out a hearty laugh, to which Hyunjin shoots you a questioning look. “Your sex drive really should be studied.”

His lips upturn into a smirk, and his arms reach for you again, beckoning you back into his embrace. “No need to be jealous, baby. I only fuck them if they’re willing to pay, and I’m expensive.”

You roll your eyes, allowing him to pull you into his chest. He threads his fingers through your hair, and you can’t help but feel… awkward.

“You’re kind of an asshole, Hyunjin.”

He hums. “Sure, but you still let me fuck you.”

You two stay that way for a while, his fingers massaging your scalp as he presses a kiss to your head now and then. It feels disorienting, like a sudden shift from everything Hyunjin had been until now. He was never caring or sweet, he never kissed you if you weren’t fucking, and he surely never cuddled you. Your face involuntarily contorts into a grimace.

You detach yourself from him, getting up from the bed and telling him you’ll see him later. But Hyunjin is grabbing at your arm with a smile.

“Come on, don’t be sad,” he giggles as you try to free yourself from his grip. “I’m really not the type of guy you should have fallen for, anyway.”

You still at his words, face contorting into pure befuddlement. “Fallen for? Who the fuck says I’ve fallen for you?”

And Hyunjin simply scoffs, letting go of your arm as his smile shifts into his characteristic grin. “Well, there’s a reason I’m number one among the hosts at The Siren.”

“Hyunjin, those girls aren’t exactly after you for your personality,” you deadpan. “You’re really nothing worth falling for.”

His grin slowly fades, and it’s his turn to have confusion take hold in his eyes. “What?”

You can tell he wasn’t expecting this. Almost as if he was expecting you to have truly fallen for him simply because he… is him. And you can’t help but chuckle at the situation.

“Hyunjin,” you call out to him sweetly, and his gaze is back on you immediately. “You’re a nice fuck, but that’s really it. Don’t worry about me falling for you.”

You can swear you see a flicker of hurt in his eyes, but it’s likely only your imagination. He opens his lips to speak but promptly closes them again. He simply stares up at you from where he’s sat on the bed and almost looks sweet. If you didn’t know him, you would undoubtedly be charmed by this convincing facade. You have to give it to him; you do understand why he’s number one at his job.

“But…” He trails off, shaking his head. “But I’ll see you again tomorrow, right?”

“Sure,” you shrug. “We can keep fucking until I find something better.”

You run your fingers through his long hair and make your way to the door, leaving him with an expression frozen in bewilderment.

Hyunjin might kiss you and hold you close as he fucks you, but he’ll never be yours.

But that’s not a problem, as you surely will never be his as well.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings

[anantaru]

Hi Yoru.

Which boys do you think would be most gentle during sex?

including. neuvillette, ayato

cw. soft dom, we love strong men being sweet, fem! reader

— ꒰ NEUVILLETTE ꒱

the iudex of fontaine neuvillette, who's each respectively admired and respected by the people of his nation.

indeed, he was a mysterious man in quite a lot of ways, and of course with this in mind— there came great responsibilities which the man made his priority to fulfill as good as he was able to.

until his dying breath.

to say that he was strong was a clear understatement, but even someone such as neuvillette can find himself rather fatigued at times, especially when he always tends to go well over his capabilities for the people around him.

it has not always been this way, however, whenever he found himself in an exhausted state of mind, he instantly comes rushing home to you, and neuvillette will not admit it, he simply cannot, but he had missed you so very much that it was burning a deep hole in his heart.

it's difficult to be vulnerable, and in the beginning he believed that being open and unshielded in front of you might make you view him in a different kind of light— because in his own very mind, neuvillette wanted, no, he needed to look powerful and almighty for your sake.

you are his everything, and he promised himself to never suffer from another loss in his life again, more so protect you to the fullest extent.

"ahh, it's okay," you utter in a sweet voice, instantly noticing how neuvillette's breathing hitched and his muscles relaxed, but you can more importantly feel the overeager acceleration of his hips grinding into your warm cunt, so eager it made you giggle,

"you're here now," your hands slowly cup his cheeks as he melts into your touch, a soft smile parting from his lips as neuvillette sighs in appreciation of you, "you're home now,"

now, heed yourself, because if you believe that you would be able to make neuvillette relax under this particular choice of words, you were clearly mistaken because with displaying it to him all exposed and while he pleasured you, infused with real desire, his heart burns through his strong chest as he let his lips trace the breadth of your cheek, lingering across your ear as his teeth sank into the nape of your neck, claiming you and deepening the approaching orgasm flooding through you from the very inside.

the greedy roll of his groin into your cunt was fast and ruthless, the repeated sounds of skin buzzing over skin slices across the shells of your ears as he begins to squeeze and knead the fat of your ass in his palms— to get a good hold on it, you know?

so neuvillette can twist and turn you against him as he pleases, fitting his hips in between your legs so perfectly that your walls shape a little too well around his throbbing length, his erection snugly tucked in as you pitch your hips up to receive his fast thrusts.

the way he handled you was interesting— both rough and soft that you're smiling from head to toe, the thought that neuvillette would never forget to be gentle with you despite the bundled up heat in his chest, he'd always fuck you right and nasty, his deep thrusts rattling through your skin that you think you'll bruise once he's done with you, your pitchy sobs uncontrolled at every draw his hips fucking you hard, plunging deep.

— ꒰ AYATO ꒱

the dizzying intensity of ayato's thrusts, the focused face when he grinds himself a little deeper in you, and lastly, the complete authority he held given his position were the key factors on your current state— his hands tight around your wrists, his dripping cock in a possessive hold that burned away the worries churning his mind and downed it to a single spark of nothingness, replacing it with deep need to feel and taste you all around him.

you'd think with all of this considered, most people honestly wouldn't believe that your boyfriend was actually anything else other than frightening and mysterious in his own rights— yet they do not know him the way you did, because ayato decided to show you his real, unprotected self.

when he comes home to you after a rough day consisting of his responsibilities, it was the best thing ever, something he was looking forward to each day— being enveloped by your warm hold while he nuzzles his face in the nook of your neck was the most soothing piece in his life.

your intoxicating scent and how you tasted would absolutely relax him— one kiss and he melts under your trace, although do not get fooled because it would also turn him on, your delicate touches and candid little kisses going straight to his cock like a strong bold of lightning of some kind, setting his loins on fire.

and ayato believes he must be dreaming when you finally lead him to the bedroom, carefully discarding the clothes he wore and taking your sweet time with undressing him, placing each individual piece next to you— never forgetting to be content when he exhales shakily at the way you soothed yourself on him, then he flinches when your cool finger pads slide across his strong abs, never stopping to admire his beauty like you completely worshipped him, just as much as he worshipped you.

with that out of the way, ayato's new choice of voice was low and commanding, it was mind altering to the point where it made a slight shiver manifest and run down your spine as he fills your cunt with the speed of lust and love.

your pussy was dripping through his shaft pistoling in and out until he's pushing hard and fast into you— both lost in the restless friction as you listen to the crumbling whimpers concealed behind his restless groans. your room was engulfed by the scent of sex and pheromones as you arch your back into his touch, your eyes drifting close on a fresh surge of lust splitting your pussy in half, head rolling aside in easy surrender.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[nebulaafterdark]

Sooner Or Late

Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Y/N flees to the north before the start of the war. When it is over, Aegon will stop at nothing to get her back. Based off this request 18+ ONLY implied dubcon, mental illness & violence

Long before the dragons dance, Y/N is promised to Aegon. As a result, Rhaenyra sends her only daughter to the North in hopes of securing an alliance and to keep her half brother at bay.

His desire for the princess Y/N is deprived, even Alicent could not comprehend it. In the years Y/N is gone, Aegon yearns for her, a longing set deep into his bones.

Y/N finds real love, without sharp edges. His name is Jonathan Stark, after whom their son is named. His body now hangs like a trophy in Aegon’s garden.

The war brought one tragedy after another. Her mother and three, if not four, of her brothers were slain.

As for the greens, only Aegon and Alicent remain.

Y/N was taken back to King’s Landing, upon Aegon’s victory. She is to be his prize. As a warm welcome, he strung up her husband and allowed her to watch the light fade from his eyes.

Jon is spared the sight of his father’s remains, shielding his eyes with his mother’s dress as she whispers to him.

“I love you more than anything in this world.” She tells him, “no matter what becomes of me, you mustn’t be afraid. You must be strong.”

His hold on her tightens as they are forced into the throne room to meet the king. A man his mother has no love for. The man who killed his father.

“Ahh, good, you’re here.” Aegon grins, rising from his perch. “We need to prepare you for dinner.” The front of his robes are stained with blood.

Her husband’s blood.

“I will admit, I was not expecting two guests. Luckily, the coronation will not take place until the morrow. Which gives us time to fit robes for our boy.” The King smiles at Jonathan.

Y/N clutches her son closer as he begins to cry. “Shh.”

“Tell me now, dearest, what is his name?”

“His name is Jonathan.”

“Jonathan.” Aegon looks to the boy, clinging to his mother. “A fine name for a prince.”

“T-thank you, your grace, but I am not a prince.” The boy sniffles.

Aegon bends forward to his eye level. “You are now. In one day’s time, your mother will be crowned queen of the seven kingdoms and you our heir. Now that you are here we will be a proper family.”

“I had a family.” Jonathan reminds him.

Y/N tucks the boy farther against her side.

Aegon sighs, standing to face Y/N. “There, there, my darling.” He dries her tears with a blunt swipe of his hand.

“Please don’t hurt him, he doesn’t understand.”

“I am not going harm him.” Aegon scoffs. “He grew inside your womb, same as our children will.”

“Ours?” Y/N breathes, clutching her son’s hand. Aegon has well and truly lost his mind.

“I’m going to be your father now.” Aegon tells Jonathan. “There will be no more talk of the man who tried to steal your mother from me. Do you understand?”

Jonathan nods, against his mother’s dress.

“Good,” Aegon inhales deeply, wrapping them both in his arms. “Welcome home.”

————————————————————————

“Why are you doing this, Aegon?” Y/N asks, staring out the window to the garden.

“You were promised to me.” He tosses his chalice against the wall, stumbling toward her. “You will marry me. You will love no one but me! That is why Stark is dead, that is why his body will hang until only his bones remain.”

“How can you be so cruel?” Y/N cries, wrapping both arms tightly around herself.

“This is a kindness, my dearest love.” Aegon says draping his arms over hers, “in time you will see. You’ve lost your way. But you will learn, I will teach you.”

She has to get away. “Please-”

He sneers. “You will do a fair share of begging in our lives together, there is no need to start prematurely.”

“What do you want?”

Has he not made it abundantly clear? “You.”

“I am only a woman. You understand that, do you not?” Y/N scoffs. “There is nothing I can give you another cannot. Why chase me? Why hunt me down when you could’ve had anyone?”

“I realize we have our differences, but there is no other woman capable of evoking such passion in my heart. I love you, I loathe you. You frustrate and entice me.” He nips at her neck. “It was always going to be you, sooner or late.”

“I had a life, Aegon.”

“Now you will have a new life, with me.”

————————————————————————

As days pass, Y/N allows her mind to wander. To escape the vessel in which it’s held; far enough that she doesn’t feel. In time, it begins drifting farther and farther out to sea.

Aegon plays with Jonathan, lifting him high on his shoulders, the way her husband used to.

Jonathan takes a liking to him. Anytime he asks about his father, he is met with a sigh.

“Do you see that pretender anywhere around here?”

Jon shakes his head.

“And you never will.” Aegon snickers. “There is no need to keep asking, as you know it upsets me.”

The boy lowers his eyes, “yes, father.”

“You are a Targaryen. Not a Stark.” Aegon taps his chin, “all of this will be yours one day.”

Aegon is a madman, but he does seem to care for them, in his own demented way.

Y/N loathes herself for even thinking it.

A few weeks after, her belly begins to round with Aegon’s child. Y/N nearly forgets why she is here. Why she has to float away.

Aegon is all but tethered to the tiny bump, kissing it each day as it grows.

Jonathan is the only reason Y/N holds onto hope. Though sometimes, she can hear his father calling from the garden.

Aegon is speaking to her then, plush lips moving over perfect teeth.

It catches her off guard, the look of him. A fallen angel, cast out by the gods. So like her mother. Y/N desperately misses her mother.

Aegon smiles as she caresses the side of his face, ignoring her distant gaze. He knew she would come round, eventually.

“Why do you think my mother hasn’t come to see me?” Y/N asks, with wide, sad eyes.

Oh…you poor, poor, thing. Aegon kisses her outstretched hand. She does not remember, nor does it matter. It’s best not to upset her. “I am sure she will turn up sooner or late, my dearest love.”

She believes him, she has to.

Part 2

Aegon Taglist: @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 8

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Rhys and Cassian talk about Under the Mountain. The twins, Rhys and Cass meet the bone carver where Y/N sees someone unexpected, the IC goes out for dinner and two familiar faces come to greet Y/N. Cassian gets jealous.

Content Warnings: broad allusion to the S/A of Rhys. Mention of death by childbirth, unwanted touching from a stranger in a bar setting.

A/N: This is a chapter that i'm really happy about! I'm excited to share but this is also where I'm going to warn that we're no longer going to follow canon exactly. Big moments will happen in the same order but i'm adjusting time lines and some canon moments to fit what I want. I hope you liked this chapter as much as I do. I'm also close to 500 followers and that's crazy. Thank you for reading and giving my stories some love!

Word Count: 6.5

Unwavering Masterlist, ACOTAR Masterlist, Chapter 7

Rhysand’s POV

I opened the door to peek inside, and my heart swelled. The twins were curled up on the bed together Y/N’s arm protectively over Feyre. Their faces were so peaceful, not a worry on their features. I smiled and closed the door. Turning to walk away, I jumped as Cassian was leaning against the wall arms crossed, “Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, unapologetic snoop.” I flipped him off and he chuckled. “Everything okay?” His tone turned serious.

I smiled, “Yeah, they are sleeping together.”  I paused as Cassian raised an eyebrow, “I mean they are asleep on the same bed. Don’t make it uncomfortable, brother.”

Cassian feigned offence placing a hand over his heart, “Rhys, how you wound me so!”  I rolled my eyes, as my brother’s face grew serious, “Do you think they are going to resolve their issues?”

I tucked my hands in my pockets, “I think they have already begun.” I looked back at the door and could hear the two rustling in bed before they settled. I nodded my head toward my study. Cassian held his arm out letting me lead the way. When we got into the study Cassian sat on the couch. “Cassian.”

“Rhysand.” He counters his elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward, hands clasped together, his siphons gleaming in the fae light.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, “I have a confession to make.”

Cassian brows furrowed, “By all means, Rhys, leave me in suspense.” He chuckled his laughter died in his throat at my face, “Shit, what is it?”

“There is something about that night that Y/N defended those girls, I never told you.” Cassian gave me his undivided attention. I held my hand out and Cassian rose from his seat, tucking in his wings he gripped my hand, and I took him to that night:

Cassian.

This girl reminded me of Cassian. Even as Amarantha cinched her wrist together, Y/N kept her chin up, her eyes met mine noticing aware her twin was on my lap her head on my shoulder. My hand remained on her waist. Amarantha had Y/N pinned to her. It’s like I could hear him chuckle, “Where the hell did you find these two human women, brother?”

Breathe. I’m sorry Y/N, I cannot help you.

Those girls didn’t deserve to see the cruelties of this world just yet. Try to keep their innocence.

Cassian would have said something similar with that same stance that same glint in his eye. I gave her a nod, and for the first time in 49 years I could not reign in the memory of my brother or the hope in my chest of seeing him again. Maybe these two human girls would be able to break this curse. Then I can go home and tell him about her. I can’t afford to think that way and I chug the rest of my wine.

 “Eris Vanserra, please step forward.” My blood ran cold as the heir of the Autumn Court’s name came out that witch’s mouth. My gaze drifted over to the red-haired male step up as Amarantha forced Y/N to her knees and pressed her forehead to the floor.

I gripped her sister tightly as she began to wiggle, “Darling, dance for me, will you?” I whispered in her ear. She drunkenly giggled and got up to begin to dance. I could feel Y/N’s pulse quicken, Breathe. Through your nose. I could see she obeyed as Eris lifted her to her feet. I fought against gritting my teeth keeping my mask of cool indifference. I focused on Feyre as her hips swayed positioned right between my legs. My gaze drifted back and saw that Eris put a collar of flames around her neck and he was guiding her by a leash of flame. The crowd separated as he approached me.

Feyre spun and saw her sister and smiled, “Y/N,” she grinned not realizing her sister was in the grips of a viper and yet she still held her chin up high a challenge in her eye. Again, I could hear Cassian’s voice, “You need to keep her safe, Rhysand. Keep her alive so I can meet her.”

I pulled from the memory and Cassian sat in the chair across from mine, his face unreadable and his shields were locked up tight. “Cass, it was the second time I let myself think of you. The first is when she defeated the worm, and she gave a dramatic bow to the crowd as Feyre threw a muddy bone to Amarantha. When Y/N ran up to those girls I allowed myself to think of you and the hopes of coming home so I could tell you about them. Y/N did something dangerous without ever knowing.”

Cassian took a deep breath, “What was that?”

“Hope,” I lifted my hand and a decanter, and two glasses appeared I poured two fingers worth in both glances and handed one to my brother, “She gave me hope that we would make it out of this, that we would be able to come home. And when I dropped Feyre into her cell, I made it back to my room and cried. I cried so hard I vomited I let out 49 years’ worth of missing you, Azriel, Mor, even Amren.” Cassian chuckled, “This one human girl unraveled me all because she reminded me of you.”

Cassian smiled and gripped his hand in mine, “Well you did make it home, brother, and you kept you promise too spiritual me.” I snorted as he continued, “She’s wonderful Rhys.” He released my hand, and I watched as his eyes went distant, “Is it possible to fall in love with someone from the first time you’ve met them.”

I tilted my head, “What?”

Cassian sat up straight, flaring his wings, and his cheeks turned a shade of red against his tan skin, “What? Did I say that out loud, mother above.” He drinks the alcohol to the dregs and sets the glass down. “I enjoy her company. Is all I’m saying.”

I chucked, “Someone have a little crush, brother?”

Cassian leveled me with a glare, “Shut it, you prick.” 

“I mean, Y/N, is funny. Kind.”

Cassian interjected, “Extremely kind.”

I grinned slyly, “She’s also beautiful.”

Cassian exhaled and his face morphed into a lovesick teenager’s, “The word beautiful doesn’t hold a candle to what she is.” Cassian blinked and looked over at me. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” I chuckled and stood having this sudden feeling of being dirty I plucked lint from my shirt and Cassian’s brow furrowed, “You’ve been doing that a lot since you’ve been home.” There was an underlying question that caused me to straighten my spine. “You don’t have to talk about it, Rhys, but I am here, if you want to.”

He stood and walked out of the study leaving me as my thoughts drifted to those haunted

Reader’s POV

I could feel eyes watching me as I slept and I jolted awake, Feyre doing the same to see Amren at the foot of the bed. “Don’t you knock.” I muttered rubbing my eyes. The morning sun filtered in the room.

Amren threw an amulet onto Feyre’s lap, “This is on loan. I expect this to be returned.”

Feyre looked at the jeweled necklace and looked at the tiny female confusion on her face. “What is this?”

“It’s, what helped me get out of the Prison, girl, you’ll need it today.” With that she left. Feyre and I exchanged glances and I simply shrugged sliding off the bed.

“Y/N,” I turned as my sister slid out of the bed as well, “Would you come with us today? To see the Bone Carver.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Rhys purred as he leaned against the door, Feyre threw a pillow at him, and he ducked in time that it flew in the hall. Rhys smirked and tucked a hand in his pocket.  “Such a violent little thing.”  I rolled my eyes.

“You two make me sick.” I muttered at the same time Feyre asked, “Don’t you knock.”

Rhys looked at me, “Do you want to come join us today?”

I nodded, “Sure, whatever I can do to help.”  I walked toward the door, Rhys blocked the door, I crossed my arms.

“Want Cassian to come?” Rhys lifted a suggestive brow.

I pursed my lips, “He’s a grown male, he probably has other things to do.”

Cassian popped up behind Rhys, “It just so happened that Rhys cleared my Schedule, Princess.” He gave me a wink and I fought the butterflies flittering in my stomach.

“A group adventure it is.” I looked at Rhys, my smile falling as I noticed the dark circles sunk in his eyes and stars gone and he looked distant.  You, okay? I reached out into his mind.

Rhys met my stare, Never better.

Liar.

High Lords can’t afford to have breakdowns in the time of War, Y/N.

I snorted. Someone better inform the High Lord of the Spring that.

Rhys laughed and placed a kiss on my cheek, “You are something else, Angel.”

My face didn’t change. If you need to talk, I’m here. You need to heal too. War or not.

Stars flickered back into his eyes, and he nodded as I moved to get to my room. The sound of boots was the only indication that I was being followed. “Something I can do for your, General?” I didn’t bother to turn around as I asked the question.

His hand gripped my wrist gently, “I wanted to see if you were okay.” His eyes drifted from my face to my chest.  His face tilted as he gently pushed my hair behind my shoulder. I had to remind myself to breathe as he tugged the tunic to reveal the new tattoo there. “Well, hello,” he purred as his eyes flicked to mine, my toes curled, and I had to fight my arousal by his sensual tone. “This wasn’t here a few days ago.”

I took a deep breath and centered myself trying to ignore how him rubbing his thumb against my tattoo caused my whole body to thrum in response. “Feyre and I made a promise to one another. The tattoo appeared not long after that.”

Cassian nodded, letting the silence blanket the hall and I was able to take a good look at him. His eyes had a warm kind glow to them and being this close little flecks of green poked through, and one eyebrow had a slit going through where a white scar laid bare. His face had stubble on it as if he hadn’t shaved yet and I yearned to cup his face to feel it against my skin. My eyes drifted to his lips full and as tan as his skin. My mind wandered as I thought what it would be like if I pressed my own to them. What would he taste like. Cassian shifted eyes widened and I hadn’t realized how close our faces had gotten. I took a step back and cleared my throat, “I should probably get ready.”

Cassian rubbed the back of his neck and a blush fell onto his cheeks it made him look boyish, “Good idea,” his voice was husky and slightly strained, and he tucked his lower lip behind his teeth. He was beautiful in every sense of the word.

 I turned forcing myself to look away from him and headed to my room when his voice rang out, “Princess,” I turned my head back he opened and closed his mouth and opened once more, “The prison is cold make sure to bundle up.” He looked pained as he said it, almost embarrassed.

“Thank you, General.” I winked and continued to my room all the while settling the erratic beating of my heart.

***

Cassian was not lying about it being cold. Rhys had winnowed us to the side of the mountain where the cold air pierced my skin. I wore my leathers with fleece line leggings and a long sleeve tunic underneath, but my teeth were still chattering. Cassian shuffled in the bag he brought with him and pulled out his leather jacket. There were patches on the back that were able to detach when he wears it to accommodate his wings. The wind caused a few of the loose strands from his bun to fly into his face though as he approached me, he seemed unfazed by the cold as he held up the bag. “Here, Princess.”

I slipped my arms into the leather sleeves, and he raised the jacket to my shoulders. Warmth encased my upper body as his jacket falling to my knees. Cassian’s hands gave my shoulders a squeeze, “Thank you.”

Cassian leaned in close his warmth seeping into my bones as he whispered, “You’re welcome.”

We made to the entrance of the building and Cassian interlaced his hand in mine and gave it a comforting squeeze. Rhys was the one that broke the silence talking to Feyre, “Do not let go of my hand. No matter what you hear or what you see. Do. Not. Let. Go.” Feyre nodded.

Rhys turned to me. Not like you would want her to let go of your hand. I smirked as Rhys leveled a glare my way, the only indication that my statement got to him. “Same with you, Y/N. Don’t let go of Cass’ hand.”

I lift our entwined hands and open my hand up as Cassian’s still clamped down and go as far as shaking our arms causing the male behind me to chuckle, “I don’t think he would let me. If I want to.”

“Not a chance. Not here.” Cassian murmured.

“Amren-“a hand clamped over my mouth muffling the rest of my sentence and  I tried to wriggle from Cassian’s grasp fighting against how his body pressed against me makes me feel.

Rhys sighed, “We don’t mention her near or in the prison.”

Cassian released my mouth and I shoot him a glare. “Why?”

The General spoke this time, “The prisoners here do not take kindly to her escape. If they know we know here it could get messy, fast.”

“Next time just say that.” I punched his shoulder, “No need to manhandle me.”

He kissed my cheek, “Sorry, Princess, won’t happen again.” He leans in lowering his voice, “Unless you ask me to.”

Heat crept up my face as he straightened to his full height, and I tried to ignore how the words left a pool of heat in my belly, I punched him again, “Shameless flirt.”

Cassian laughed, “Keep it up, Archeron, and your punches could actually hurt me one day.”

I scowled as we entered the prison my humor dying as the darkness consumed us. The low fae lights didn’t help with lighting the path before us. Though Rhys and Cassian led us like they knew the place backward and forward.  I could feel Feyre’s tension as badly as my own as we turned this way and that. Every turn reminded me of the path Under the Mountain but before my mind could wander too far into those memories there would be a squeeze of my hand. Like the male beside me knew where my mind was going and wanted to bring me back to him.

After a few minutes we reached the cell of the bone carver. Feyre looked back at me, and I gave her an encouraging nod.  Rhys led her into the cell, and I stepped closer to Cassian our hands still entwined, and he curled his wing around me giving me extra warmth. We stepped inside and moved around, and I lowered my head finding my feet interesting.

Feyre and Rhys had begun their musings but the metallic smell from the power this creature possessed was making it hard for me to focus. I drowned out the conversation picking up key words. The book of breathings and Like calls to like but everything else was drowned out I tried to focus on Cassian’s hand in mine and how he was rubbing his thumb along the side of my hand. Back and forth back and forth, before I knew it, I was matching my breathing to the slow movements his thumb was making to center myself.  The cell fell silent as I finally adjusted to the cell.

A female voice flooded my ears, “Look at me Y/N Archeron.” I looked up and was taken aback by the female before me. She was beautiful. She had one hazel and one Blue gray eye that looked so much like Feyre’s she had long dark hair braided in a crown atop her head a few wavy pieces that strayed from the updo framed her face highlighting her pointed ears. Her tan skin was clad in leathers similar to the ones Cassian and Azriel wore. What really caught my attention was her wings, they too were like Azriel’s and Cassian’s broad and beautiful even when tucked tightly behind her. She smirked, “Step closer, child.”

I attempted to take a step, but Cassian’s hand stayed firm in mine gently pulling me back to him. I wouldn’t move back to him I wanted to get a closer look at the female, she had a slender face, freckles kissed her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She looked so much like Cassian, but then there was that smile and it looked so similar to the one my twin and I share. Was this a relative of Cassian’s?  She was beautiful.

Her laugh was boisterous, “Who do you see when you look upon me child?”

Don’t answer that. Rhys voice flittered into the spot of my shield for him.

“I don’t know.” I answered honestly.

You’re a great listener, you know that?  

Cassian once again gently tries to tug me back to him. As the Bone Carve paces like a wild animal in a cage, “I wonder, what secrets does the human Archeron twin keep. Tell me one secret, Y/N Archeron.”

“What do I get for sharing a secret with you?” I asked and tried to release my hand, but Cassian refused to let go.

“Oh, clever girl,” The females wings fluttered, “A secret for a secret then and as a sign of good faith I will go first.” She met my gaze, “There are ancient creatures that roam these lands, Legend states that they were extinct in the first war. They were not, they just went into hiding. They want to come out and play again.”

Rhys swore, and I looked back and saw Cassian’s face paled as he muttered, “Dragons.”

The female looks back at Cassian, “Indeed, Prince of Bastards.” Something made me bristle at the implication of the title and the sneer on her lips. She turned back to me. “A deal is a deal.”

Rhys stepped in, “No we’re leaving, your insight has been very helpful.”

He turned and my sister was made to follow, Cassan gripped my arms releasing my hand and turned me away but wiggled out of his grasp and took the opportunity of his mistake stepping toward the Bone Carver, “A secret of any kind?”

She smiled and bowed her head, “I am partial to the darkest secrets, but I will accept any, Y/N Archeron.”

“Y/N,” Cassian’s tone was laced with warning that I promptly ignored.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, “I am responsible for the death of my mother.”

***

We returned to the Town house in complete silence it wasn’t until we were in the dining room that Rhys debriefed Azriel, Amren, Mor. About what the bone carver said about the Dragons and the Book of breathings. I just listened as they talked about half the book being at the summer court and the other half with the human queens. I could feel eyes on me, but I proceeded to ignore his gaze and focus on Rhysand.

“I want to keep this between us for now. I have a plan to test Carver’s theory that Feyre can sense these objects. Like calls to like but I will need a few days to do so. I’ll send a letter to Tarquin and see if he will allow us to make a visit there. That leaves the human queens.”

I mutter, “Nesta and Elain could help.”

Feyre nodded, “We could use their manor as the meeting point. They could be our Correspondence with them since they reside in the Human lands.”

“You both willing to go back and talk to them.” Rhys looked at me.

“You did give us the job as your human emissaries, Rhys. I’ll do what I must.” Feyre nodded in agreement.

‘Alright, send word to your sisters tomorrow and see if we can set up a time to meet. However, I think tonight we have earned off. Let’s go out to dinner.”

Everyone cheered, even Amren had a sly grin to her face as they exited to go get ready, Cassian, Feyre, Rhys and I stayed in the dining room. I met Cassian’s gaze his lips were in a tight line and his arms were crossed over his broad chest. He was stunned at my confession at the prison, but he didn’t say a word, he had just grabbed my hand and led me back out, holding it tightly to keep me grounded.  His eyes went vacant for a moment and when they went back to normal, he looked to Feyre and grinned “Feyre, let me escort you back to your room. Maybe that way I can talk you into fighting lessons. With me.” He held out his arm for her to take and winked, and my heart sunk. He was flirting with her. I mean I guess this was the first time I’ve seen him interacting with other women in the court. I had been so wrapped in my bubble that I never noticed that he was a natural flirt.

Feyre smiled and looped her arm in his and he walked out leading her upstairs. Rhys was facing the door looking out at Velaris, I pushed out of my seat, “What did you mean today?” Rhys asked turning to face me, “When you said you were responsible for your mother’s death.”

I shrugged, “What I said is what I meant, Rhys.” His brow furrowed. “Can we not talk about it? Please.”

Rhys sighed and walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her, “Fine, but we have to talk about it.”

I pulled away, “Like how we have to talk about how Feyre is your mate?” His face paled as he dropped his arms. “I’m human, I’m not dumb, I noticed your behavior changed. She doesn’t know does she?”

Rhys shook his head, “No,”

I shook my head, “When did you find out?”

“When we said goodbye after we beat Amarantha.”

Shock rocked me, “You were going to let her marry, him…”

Rhys bit his lip, “I was going to respect what she wanted. I wanted her to be happy. Then she called out for help, Y/N, she was begging for anyone to save her. I felt it down the bond.”  

I nodded my head, and I cupped his cheek, “Don’t keep her in the dark forever, Rhys, she’ll hate you for it.” With that I walked to my room to get ready for dinner.

***

We arrived at the restaurant, and everyone was dressed to the nines, and I opted for black silk pants and a sapphire blue corset top and a leather jacket. Put my hair up in a ponytail and placed a matching sapphire blue bow and some comfortable slippers. I walked down and Azriel shared an amused look, “Well Archeron, may I say blue looks ravishing on you.” He kissed my cheek. It was then that I noticed I matched his siphons. Everyone laughed as a blush crept up my face and I glanced at Cassian. He looked bemused but still made sure to extend his arm for me to take to escort me to the restaurant though it was apparent he kept us a good distance from the shadow singer.

Even at the dinner table Azriel sat by the window and I was making my way to sit next to him, Cassian guided me to the end of the table on the opposite side. “Cass, he doesn’t bite.” I murmured.

Cassian pulled out my seat for me and gently pushed me in, “Yes. He does. And he is a sore fucking loser.”

Azriel snorts, “I’m sorry she chose blue instead of red, brother.”

Rhys buts in, “She is allowed to wear whatever she wants, in whatever color she wants. Just because she wears a color doesn’t mean she is swearing an allegiance to either of you.” The kind restaurant owner came and brought our food and handed us a goblet for Amren. “Thank you, Nicolette. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

The older female bowed her head, “Likewise, Rhysand. I hope everything is to your liking.” She looked to Feyre who was dressed in another radiant midnight blue Top and matching pants. “Its an honor to meet you Cursebreaker,” her gaze reached mine, “You as well Y/N Archeron. I hope you enjoy.”

Simultaneously Feyre and I said, “Thank you.” She smiled and left.

We all began eating and I looked over to Amren, “You don’t eat.” Not a question.

“Very observant, girl.” Amren snorted swirling the goblet in her hand.

“Are you not high fae?” I asked curiosity getting the better of me.

Rhys interjected, “She is in a way.”

“I do not know what I am completely, I did take form in a high fae body I chose this body.” Amren said in a tone telling me that that was all the information she was willing to give. I took a note and began drinking out of my own glass.

Azriel leaned his elbows on the table there was a mischievous glint in his eye, “Y/N, tell me. Did you have any lovers back in the human realm?” I choked on my drink; a fit of coughing erupted. A hand was rubbing my back and I looked to see Cassian giving Azriel a glare that if I were on the end of it would make me want to crawl out of my skin. Azriel didn’t seem phased.

“Just one.” I answered when I regained my breath. “Lover is a generous term for it though.”

Azriel quirked a brow, “Oh, why is that?” Feyre shifted in her seat uncomfortably by this conversation.

Before I could answer two tiny voices called out, “Y/N, Y/N.” I turned my brow furrowed in confusion as two small girls came running to the table and when I turned to face them, they leapt into my arms. Two little red-haired girls with tan skin tucked their heads into my neck. I rose, arms securing them as I moved off the chair.

The girls’ mother came toward us, “I’m so sorry. They saw you and they wanted to say hello.”

The two girls pulled away and met Y/N’s gaze and I gasped their green eyes shined bright and their red hair was not matted but curled and their tan skin looked healthy and gleaming. “Well look at you two. You have grown.” I smiled, holding both of their hands.”

Mor’s voice piqued, “You know them?”

One of the girls who was slightly taller, “You remember us?”

I smiled, “Of course I do.” She pulled them into a hug again and the two girls clung to her tightly. “I would never forget either of you.”

Their mom smiled, “I never got a chance to see you, to thank you for what you did for them.”

I met the mom’s stare with a smile of my own, “No thanks necessary.” The girls pulled away from me but still clung to my hands, “I’m glad you girls are okay.” I looked back up to their mom, “I didn’t realize you resided in the Night Court.”

“We were originally from the Autumn Court. I served for the Lady of the Court. Rhysand offered me a place to stay and a comfortable home if I wanted it.” I looked to see her gazing at Rhys with a smile and Rhys nodded his head, “I couldn’t stay in that court knowing what the prince did, so I grabbed the girls, and he brought us here.”

The girl that spoke before said, “We love it here!”

I smiled, “I’m so glad.” I leaned and naturally the two girls also lean in as if we’re telling a big secret “I love it here too.” The girls giggled in response, “What are both of your names? I never got a chance to be properly introduced. I’m Y/N.”

The social butterfly of the two smiled wide, “I’m Alexis, you can call me Lexi. This is my twin Elizabeth, but we all call her Lizzie.”

Lizzie gives a shy wave before biting her lip a bit. I beamed and I turned and point to Feyre, “Well what a coincidence my Twin is right there. That’s Feyre. I call her Fey.”

Feyre gave the two girls a small wave, and the two waved back enthusiastically. Y/N looks to the mom, “I’m Evangeline. Feel free to call me Evie.” I let go of the girls’ hands for a moment and walked toward Evie as she blinked away a few tears and gripped me into a hug, “I can’t thank you enough,” She turned her gaze to Rhys and Feyre and the rest of our table. “All of you, for your kindness.”

Rhys smiled, “The pleasure is ours.” The table all gave nods in agreement.

Lexi tugged on my pant leg, “Can we have a sleepover sometime?”

Alexis!” Evie scolded, “She is probably busy with working for the high-“

I interrupted her raising my hand, “For my two new friends,” I knelt to their level, “I would make the time. You just need to convince the High Lord. I do live at his house at the moment.”

Lexi and Lizzie ran to Rhysand and held their hands up, “Please, High Lord. Please.” I noticed that  Cassian and Azriel were trying really hard not to laugh as they saw their brother turn to into putty at these girls hands.

Rhys smiled, “Tell you what whenever, mom needs some time to get errands done, or would like to have an evening to herself you can come to my townhouse and spend as much time as you want with my family.”

“Including Y/N?” Lizzie asked quietly.

Rhys smiled widened, “Yes, including Y/N.” He gave them a playful wink and the two girls giggled and ran back to their mom.

“C’mon girls, let them enjoy the rest of their dinner.”

Alexis waved, and Y/N stands to take her seat, and she feels a tugged on her pants. She looked down to find Lizzie and her eyes lined with silver, and she blurts, “I want to be like you when I grow up.” She looked down sheepishly after blurting it.

I took a minute to process what she said, “What do you mean, Sweetheart?”

She looked up tears streamed down her face, “I want to be brave and kind and not afraid like you,” I could feel the emotion swelling in my chest and tears of my own were beginning to fall. I fell to my knees and pulled her in to a hug, and Lizzie erupted into sobs burying her face in her shoulder. I held out my other arm and Alexis ran into tears in her eyes too. Lizzie whimpered, “I was so afraid I had an accident. You were so brave, Y/N.”

“You were so brave.” I whispered, stroking their hair. I pulled away from them and made the effort to wipe both their tears from their faces. “I think you both were extremely brave. You both held your chin up so high going back to your mom. I was proud of you.” I looked at both girls, “I was proud of both of you.” I smiled and hugged them both, “And we’re here now. And we’re friends.”

“Forever?” Lexi hiccuped.

“And ever.” I promised.

I gave both girls a kiss on their forehead and sent them back to their mom who was smiling with gratitude. I took a seat in my chair watching them walk away, “So those were the girls you told me about.”

I nodded as I shifted back to face my friends, Cassian held out his napkin for me to grab and I graciously took it and wiped my eyes. “Yeah, I didn’t even know they were twins. Kind of poetic.” I chuckled as I felt the familiar callouses of Cassian’s hand on the back of my neck, that thumb rubbing soothing circles and I leaned into his touch. “Thank you, Rhys, for bringing them here and giving them a better life.”

Rhys held out his hand and I took it, and he grabbed Feyre’s hand and gave them both a squeeze, “They deserved it, as you both deserve a chance at a better happy life.”

***

Dinner came to a close and as we walked out in the crisp night air Mor linked arms with me, “I say we head to Rita’s anyone in?”

Cassian and Azriel agreed to join but it was Rhys and Feyre who both declined Amren already left for the evening. I smiled at both of them and waved before I was being dragged away to the bar.

The atmosphere of Rita’s was nothing like the taverns at the human realms, the music thrummed, and the beat could be felt on the floor there were various colored fae lights, Azriel led us all to a table and offered to grab everyone drinks. Mor sat next to Cassian, and I ended up at the end of the booth. I noticed how Mor laid her head on Cassian’s shoulder and he laid his head on top of hers giving her forehead a light kiss and that pang rang in my chest again. How had I not noticed that he is like this with everyone. Clearly he expresses love through touch.

 Azriel brought everyone a drink and a shot. I took the shot with fervor and welcomed the burn of the alcohol. Az sat across from me and quirked his brow as I also chugged the drink, he brought for me. This was going to be a long night.

A few drinks in and Mor was basically on Cassian’s lap. I tried not to gape, but it was hard as she kept whispering in his ear. He held her but his face was slightly bored, Az and I just sat and watched the people on the dance floor. His shadows swirled around my ankle, and I smiled.

“Excuse me,” I male’s voice interrupts my appreciation of Azriel’s shadows and look up to find a fae male, with pale skin and blonde hair smiling at me. “Could I bother you for a drink and a dance.” I looked him over his body was toned and I noticed that he had a tail that touched the floor if he were to extend it out. “I just couldn’t help but notice how you beautiful you were.”

I opened my mouth to refuse but Mor cut in, “She would love to.” Mor gave me a light push and I turned back to look at Cassian who seemed more interested in his drink as Mor nuzzled back into him. I gave the male in front of me a bright smile and took his hand.

We walked to the bar, and he said his name was Mark not even bothering to ask for mine, “So I’ve not seen you around before?” He purred in my ear as our drinks came. His tail brushed up my leg and I stepped out of its reach.

“I’m new in town.” I said shrugging.

“For being new in town, you do keep interesting company. The Lord of Bloodshed, The Morrigan and the Shadowsinger. You must have made some impression.” His tail pushed me closer to him, so he grabbed me by the waist. I pressed a hand to his chest, “Sorry, Babe. Sometimes my tail has a mind of its own. I nodded and fought the urge to roll my eyes. We continued our drinks in proximity, and he insisted we go dance. He placed a hand on my lower back his tail once again grazing my leg and moving to the under curve of my ass. The alcohol was settling in my system so that where his hands were didn’t bother me anymore and I let the beat of music take me away.

Mark wrapped a hand around my stomach and held me flush to his chest. “You are such a pretty thing,” He murmured in my ear. I hummed in thanks as his free hand gripped my throat lightly, to angle my head to his. I could see the lust in his eyes as they glanced at my lips, and he leaned in. There was a cough behind us.

We turned and Cassian stood there, ire was in his eyes and the object of that anger was geared to Mark. “Mind if I cut in?”

Mark had a look as if he wanted to say he would but thinking better of it he walked away not so much as a goodbye. His tail did manage to graze my ass. What a dick.  Cassian moved closer and gripped my hand and spun me around. He pressed me to his back my head meeting his chest. Both his hands entwined with mine and pressed me closer and calm washed over me. He whispered, “You look beautiful tonight.”

I smiled and shifted my head to see his hazel eyes now soften and his pupils were blown out. “Thank you, Cass.”

He spun me around, so he pressed my chest to his, and his toned arm snaked around my waist. His nose brushed mine, “I wonder though how you would look in red instead of blue.”

The alcohol made me bold because I grinned, “Hmm I wonder how Az would fee-“

Cassian growled, “I don’t want to hear his name out of that pretty little mouth of yours, Princess.”

“Whose name should I say?”

His lips were so close to mine, our breaths intertwining, as he huskily said. “Mine.”

Before I could press my lips to his, Mor tapped his shoulder, “We’re going home, fly me to my apartment?” Cassian pulled away and I instantly missed his warmth.”

“Sure.” He muttered before kissing my head, “Goodnight, Princess.” He turned back to Mor glaring at her, and she only gave him a saccharine smile.

Mor blew a kiss to me before looping her arm in Cassian’s and the duo walked out.

Azriel was beside me in an instant, “She’s a brat.” He murmured and pressed a hand on my back and led me out of Rita’s.

When we reached the Townhome I walked into my room and sat on my bed and looked out at the night sky, hoping to see wings and flashes of red on the horizon.

Chapter 9

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misslunatic1655 @azrielsmate3 @nebarious @tele86 @chelsiemp @fightmedraco @blackgirlmagicforever @fullmoon-94

[mint-yooxgi]

Kinktober Day 29 - Demon!Seungcheol + Knife & Asphyxiation

@chaoticrapavini Said: Gurllllllll you know I don't be asking on here often so if I do this wrong don't attack meeee! Kinktober is upon us, and Demon Scoups with some knife play, maybe him being choked, and a lil blood never hurt anyone. Go wildddd🤭 pwetty please 🥰 A/n: So, this one turned out way more angsty than I ever intended, but I kinda like it. Ngl, I think it's really interesting, so I hope you like it! Might not be the smuttiest prompt, but I think the plot makes up for it lmaoo Warnings/Genre/Rating: 18+ MDNI - Smut, Mature, Established Relationship, Possession, Monster Features, Blood Word Count: 1,990 Kinktober 2024 Mini Masterlist

Dark clouds line the sky, a dull grey mist permeating the air. The cool dampness of the rain settles onto your skin, sinking deep into your bones and causing you to shiver. Around you, the cemetery is empty, the crunching of leaves and dead grass beneath your feet offering you company as you walk through the graves.

A loud caw is heard behind you, followed by the familiar sound of wings fluttering. A breeze drifts by, and you watch as an unkindness of ravens fly over your head. As they begin to circle overhead, a smirk pulls at the corner of your lips.

Still, you continue on as if it were nothing. 

The ravens follow your path deeper into the cemetery. They act almost like your own personal guardians as you finally reach the section that you’ve been looking for.

The large doors creak as you push them open, the faint light of the sun hidden behind those ever obstructing clouds filtering in. Dust floats through the air as you step inside, a stone alter resting in the centre of the room. Walking around to the opposite side of the slab, you let out a low breath.

The sound of fluttering wings echoes from behind you, an ominous presence suddenly at your back.

A moment of silence.

“I’m surprised you came.” You keep your voice low, a tone of indifference filling the tomb.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” His deep reply nearly has a shiver caressing your spine.

You round on him, a firm look resting on your features. No matter how happy you are to see him, you cannot ignore the ache in your heart. “It’s been several months, Cheol.”

He winces, body tense. “I know.”

Shame courses through his veins, averting his gaze to the side. His large wings seem to droop behind him, the dark purple, almost black feathers glinting in the faint light that cascades through the open doors.

He hardly looks any different from the last time you saw him. Same shaggy black hair framing his sharp features. Dark brown eyes which still seem to hold the stars inside of them despite how dull they appear. Even his clothes - black jeans, a t-shirt, and his signature leather jacket - still fit him perfectly. Enough so that you can just make out the muscle hidden beneath.

“I missed you.” The words are but a whisper on his lips, yet they fill the empty space with the intensity of a siren going off.

Your eyes fall shut, swallowing your building emotions. “You shouldn’t have.”

“But I did.” He counters. “Not a day went by without you on my mind.”

You purse your lips. “A lot has changed since we last saw each other, Cheol.”

“Do you no longer feel the same?”

You cannot deny the way that the hint of panic in his voice makes your heart squeeze painfully inside of your chest.

“No, it’s not-“

“Tell me what I can do.” His words come out a bit frantic, footsteps echoing against the stone walls as he rushes over to your side. “Tell me what I can do to make it better. To fix things between us. I can’t lose you again.”

“Don’t-“ Your breath hitches in your throat, tears pricking at your eyes. “Don’t say that.”

“Why?” His brow furrows, attempting to get you to even look at him once more. “Why not?”

“Because it’ll only make things harder.”

“Make what harder?” He takes another step forward, hand settling on your shoulder gently to try and coax you to turn towards him.

“This.”

In the blink of an eye, you have him pinned to the alter by his throat. Your fingers squeeze against the sides of his neck, the tip of a dagger suddenly pressing against his chest. You can feel the furious beating of his heart as he looks up at you with wide eyes, lips parted in shock. The worst part is that he doesn’t even attempt to fight back.

You can feel his throat bob beneath your hand as he swallows thickly, his eyebrows drooping in sadness. The fact that there seems to be a clear notion of acceptance and understanding held within his gaze only makes your hands begin to tremble.

A single tear spills down your cheek, soon dripping onto his skin.

“Do it.” 

His words catch you completely off guard, fingers tightening subconsciously around his neck.

You bite your lip.

“If I am to die by anyone’s hand, it is a blessing to be felled by your own.”

A broken sob escapes your throat, and you push yourself off of him. The dagger in your hand clatters to the floor as you press yourself against the wall. Slowly, you shake your head, sliding to the ground as more tears spill from your eyes.

“I can’t-“ You hiccup. “I can’t do this.”

Not even a second goes by until Seungcheol appears crouched in front of you. Gently, carefully, he reaches out for you, cupping your cheek in his hand.

Lifting your tearful gaze, you meet his own.

“Please-” You choke on your words, hands still trembling as you hold them in front of yourself. “Don’t make me do this.”

Immediately, Seungcheol wraps you in his arms, his wings coming to surround you both. The deep purple feathers offer their protection, shrouding you in his touch and letting you know that he’s right there. That he will always be right there.

“Shhh,” Gentle hands caress your back, tucking your head beneath his chin. “I’m right here. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m right here.”

Another sob escapes your lips, and you find yourself clinging onto him for dear life.

“They want me to bleed you-“ Your hands tighten over the leather of his jacket. “They want me to bleed you, and present them with your blood.”

Seungcheol inhales sharply, his arms pulling you in closer as his wings tighten around the both of you. He knows how difficult your choices have been lately, your life having taken a drastic turn since meeting him. You both knew the dangers of being together, but love had blinded the both of you since the beginning. Now, faced with the cold, hard truth of the matter, Seungcheol regrets ever leaving you on your own.

He should have stayed. There is no doubt in his mind. Maybe then they wouldn’t have dared to sink their grimy claws into you like this. He thought things would be okay. All the little check-ins he made to you, ensuring your safety… he never realized just how bad things had gotten.

There is no one to blame but himself.

Taking a deep breath in, Seungcheol steels his resolve. He knows what has to be done, and he will gladly spend the rest of eternity atoning for his sins. Especially when they involve you.

“What are you doing?”

Your voice manages to pull Seungcheol out of his thoughts, his hand now holding your previously discarded dagger. The way your gaze keeps darting from the cold steel, to his face and back, with fear in your eyes, has him smiling at you assuringly.

“Relax, Angel. I told you I would never hurt you, and I fully intend to always keep my word.” His tone is soft, soothing over you as he comes to kneel before you. A blink, and he’s flipped the dagger in his hand, offering you the handle once more. “They’re expecting you to deliver my blood, are they not?”

“Well, yes, but-“

“I will gladly bleed for you, My Love.”

The sincerity you see shining within his dark gaze has your lips clamping shut. Hesitantly, you reach for that dagger, searching his eyes for any sign of deceit. Knowing him, though, and how he has always been with you, you know that Seungcheol is telling nothing but the undeniable truth.

Everything he is always, and will always, belong to you.

“You don’t have to do this.” Lightly, you shake your head at him.

He simply smiles at you in response. “I want to.”

“But what if I don’t want you to.” You swallow your emotions, hand tightening over the pommel of the dagger.

Carefully, he reaches out to place his hand on top of yours over the handle. A soft expression rests on his features, eyes kind and reassuring.

“Trust me.”

Taking a slow breath in to steady your nerves, you nod your head.

In an instant, Seungcheol forces your hand forward and plunges that dagger deep into his chest. A flurry of wings and feathers surround you, ravens suddenly filling the space of the empty tomb. Their screeches reverberate against the stone, a rush of black filling your vision and forcing you to look away. All you can feel for the moment is the slow drip of warm blood coating your hand.

Your fingers tighten on that pommel, an indescribable ache erupting within your heart. Your lips fall open in a pained cry, but no sound escapes you. Tears cascade down your cheeks, and you try desperately to remove that dagger from his chest. However, with the commotion around you, and your overwhelming emotions, it makes it hard to see, let alone think.

Then, as if the world around you has stopped, the tomb goes eerily quiet.

You haven’t even realized you had closed your eyes until you’re blinking them open. There is no more warmth oozing onto your hand, grip suddenly feeling empty as you tremble like a leaf upon the ground. Once your vision clears, you nearly choke on another sob.

There, leaning against the alter with his arms crossed casually against his chest, rest Seungcheol. Vials of blood line the top of the stone beside him, your dagger resting lightly to their right. Not a single spot of red can bee seen on the blade, nor on his shirt as he smiles at you softly, his wings fluttering lightly behind him.

Not a single feather litters the ground, nor is there sight or sound of any remaining ravens.

Your lips part, a shaky exhale escaping you, “How…?”

“A lot has changed since we last saw each other, My Love.”

The way he repeats your own words to you from earlier has a gasp escaping your throat. Without wasting another second, you scramble to your feet, practically flinging yourself into his awaiting arms.

“Don’t ever do something as reckless as that again!” You scold him, breath stuttering as you hug him tightly. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

“Nah,” He chuckles lightheartedly, hand soothing over your spine, “You can’t get rid of me that easily. What do you think I’ve spent all of this time away from you doing?”

“Well, how was I supposed to know? You- you overgrown chicken!” You smack his chest a few times for good measure.

Small ‘ow’s escape him with each hit, chuckling fondly as he wraps his wings around you once more. The corner of his lips quirk upwards as you bury yourself into his embrace, fingers curling into the material of his shirt and clinging to him for dear life.

“I’m sorry I made you worry.” He says softly, placing a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I promise I’m here for good this time. I’m not going anywhere, and if I do, you are most certainly coming with me.”

“Damn straight.” You sniffle, bringing a hand up to wipe at your eyes. A firm poke is given to his chest. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I know,” A low hum escapes him as he quickly flips your positions. Gently, he lifts you onto the stone alter, settling himself between your thighs. His hands smooth over your sides, a dark gleam shining within his eyes as he slowly sinks to his knees before you. “For now, why don’t you let me make it all up to you.”

[hughes86-43]

prompt - “If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle”

note- idk what this is, I kinda just started writing it out.

warnings - none? some grammar mistakes.

For several years now, it has been known that you and Jack did not get along. Honestly, you’re not really sure when it all started that you two just did not like each other. You just know that both of you haven’t let up with the comebacks you both throw toward each other, and people and friends know how aggressive you both get towards each other, nothing bad but it can get heated. Despite how good of a friend you are to Luke, you just cannot get past arguing with Jack, and he wastes no time doing the same to you.

Summer was right around the corner, and to celebrate the end of the hockey season and to bring everyone together, it was decided that a vacation was the best option for everybody. You were excited as you haven’t seen everyone in forever, but that would mean that you would have to see Jack, and he was the last person you wanted to be around.

Everyone decided that the perfect vacation spot was to a beach house in Tampa, Florida. Quinn, Trevor, Luke, Jack, Cole, Alex, and some other girls and guys that are friends of them arrived earlier than you. Once you made it, Luke picked you up from the airport. After hugging you he wasted no time to tell you to be on your best behavior around Jack. Throwing an arm around your shoulder, Luke says, “Now I know how you and Jack can get around each other, and me and the others are just begging that you keep the arguing on the down low.”

Smirking at him, you say, “And did you tell this to Jack as well? It’s as much him, as it is me, ya know?”

Luke throws his head back laughing, because he expected you to say something like that. “Yes, we all told Jack the same thing. Now let’s go, everybody has been waiting on you!”

Finally arriving to the beach house, Luke grabbed your bags and helped you inside. As soon as you were inside, everyone came and welcomed you as they were so excited to finally see you. However, that happiness died a bit for you when you saw Jack.

After hugging Cole last, you see Jack out of the corner of your eye leaning against the wall. He speaks up when he notices you looking at him, “Glad to see someone finally made it, ya know this whole thing started hours ago?”

As soon as he started speaking, you wanted to pull his hair out, one by one. However, Luke told you to behave so you would do just that. Repeating in your head, be nice be nice be nice.

Breathing out, you say with the biggest smile, “Glad to see you too, you ass.” Technically, you were still being nice, you smiled and greeted him. Everyone just stood there glancing between the both of you, waiting to see if this exchange would turn into a full on battle.

“Nice to see you haven’t changed, now have you heard the news?” Jack says with a smirk.

Giving him a glare, you ask, “What news? Oh my gosh, are you leaving?!”

“No,” Jack replies with a glare, “Since Lukey here didn’t tell you, I guess I will, we are going to have to share a room.”

As soon as he said it, you start busting out laughing, “You’re joking, aren’t you? You and me share a room? That’s crazy!” You look around to everyone but nobody is laughing along, mostly just taking in this whole scene.

Slowly Luke and Quinn move forward, wincing Luke says, “It’s not a joke, you two are going to have to share a room. I should’ve said that, but we’re down on rooms compared to people, and Jack drew your name in the “roommate” draw for this weekend.”

Quinn reaches out to put a hand on your shoulder, “Sorry, my advice is just to not kill him, but I know he can be a bit too much sometimes.”

“Hey!” You hear Jack yell out.

Speaking up, “Okay, it’s okay! It will be fine! I won’t kill him, as long as he doesn’t do anything that would require me to do so.”

Jack walks forward toward you, “Well don’t make it difficult, and I won’t do anything!”

“Me make it difficult? Have you met you? You make everything difficult!” You point a finger into his chest.

Quinn quickly goes between the two of you before this argument gets blown out of proportion. “Okay! That’s enough, you two can argue all night long! For right now, it’s late and tomorrow is a big day of adventures, now go to bed!”

Feeling like you were scolded by your dad, you follow through with what he said. “Okay, you’re right. Let’s head to bed,” you grab your suitcase, turning back to Jack, “Cmon roomie! Let’s go check out our room!”

Jack grumbles, but leads the way to your shared room.

Faintly behind you down the hall, Quinn says to the others, “You think they know there is only one bed in there?” The others just laugh. Five seconds later, they soon figured out the answer, and then start making there way to their rooms so they can’t deal with the aftermath.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” You yell.

“One bed! You’re joking!” Jack yells.

“You!,” you turn towards Jack, “you did this, didn’t you! You knew there was only one bed, so I could get the floor!”

Jack spins around, “Me? I had no idea there would only be one bed! I just drew the stick!”

Sighing, you bring your hand to your throbbing head. You walk towards the bed and sit down, trying to think this through. “Okay, I’ll be the bigger person, I’ll sleep on the floor and you can take the bed.”

Jack immediately shakes his head, “No, you can get the bed, and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Jack, you were here first, you can get the bed. It’s just a couple nights, I can sleep on the floor.” To prove your point, you grab your pillow and blanket and make a spot on the floor. Once the spot is laid out, you lay down and act all bundled up, despite the fact it’s the floor and it’s hard as a rock.

You close your eyes, but you immediately hear Jack laughing. Opening one eye, you glare at him. “What? I’m trying to sleep?”

“Y/N, take the damn bed, we both know the floor isn’t comfortable.” He extends his hand towards you to help you up. You think for a few moments on the idea, and then take his hand.

Once you’re up, you put your pillow and blanket back on the bed. You can feel Jack staring at you behind you. You know you’ll regret the words that are going to come out of your mouth but you say them anyway. “You know, we would just both sleep in the bed?”

“And share the same bed as you?” Jack says, but he immediately regrets it. “Wait, I didn’t mean it so badly.”

“Wow, if you’re going to be all rude again, just go sleep in the bathtub,” you sigh.

Thinking about it, the bed is not really that big so it would mean you both would be super close to each other. However, you didn’t want to sleep on the floor and he didn’t want to sleep on the floor, so it made since to share the bed.

“Ugh, fine, we can share the bed,” Jack says, immediately bringing his pillow to the other side of the bed. “Just don’t steal my covers!”

“Mhmm,” you agree.

Going back over to your suitcase, you pull out some pajamas. “I’m going to change real quick, I’ll be back.” You thought you would be sleeping in a room by yourself, so you brought your tiny shorts and tiny tank top to wear, and now you’re regretting that decision. Making your way to the hall bathroom, you notice someone is already in there, sighing you turn back around to go back to the bedroom.

“Welp, someone is in there, so I’m just going to change in here, you don’t have to leave, but do you care to just turn around?” You ask Jack, as he is laying down scrolling through his phone.

He nods and flips over onto his side that isn’t facing you. You hurry and change into your pajamas. Clearing your throat, you say, “Okay, you can look now.”

Jack flips back around, and immediately notices your tiny pajamas and takes in the sight. He notices how much bare skin is showing between the bottom and top of the tank top and shorts. Swallowing, he says, “Cute pajamas.”

Turning around from grabbing your charger, you look at him. “Thanks, I guess,” you reply, “Um, I thought I would be in a room by myself, so I didn’t think these pajamas would matter that much but I’m not by myself.” You shiver under the intense glare that he is giving you.

“Nah, they’re cute. Now, I’m tired, let’s head to bed,” he says from his spot still laying on the bed.

You grudgingly make your way to the bed and plug your phone up before getting under the covers. You slowly realize this bed isn’t big enough for the two of you. You’re practically smushed into his side, and he has a leg already over yours. Not knowing where to put your arm, you just decide to awkwardly put it above your head.

You’re still moving around ten minutes after Jack turned off the lights. Sighing, he flips over to look at you. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get comfortable, what are you doing?” You say back to him.

“I’m trying to sleep is what I’m doing, but I can’t when someone keeps moving!”

“Well, I can’t help it when this bed was only made for one person!” You throw your hands up, frustrated once again by this situation.

“If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle, ya know?” You hear him say next to you.

Slowly moving your head, you glare at him again. “Cuddle, with you? I’d rather just sleep uncomfortable.”

He just gives you a smirk back before saying, “You know what, we’re going to cuddle. Because I know if you don’t get good enough sleep, you’re going to be in an even more grouchy mood tomorrow! So come here!”

You just stay right in your spot, not moving. That is until you feel arms move around you. “What are you doing!”

“We’re going to have to cuddle to fit, I just said that so that is what I’m doing!” He moves you closer to him so that your head is on his chest and his arm is wrapped around your shoulder. He has one leg over yours.

Not wanting to admit it, but he is right that this was the better option. You slowly relax into his embrace.

He must’ve noticed, because you can hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “See, I told you it was the better option.”

“Yeah, yeah, go to sleep,” you say with a small laugh.

The next morning, you wake up still in his embrace. He has the softest look on his face while his hand is covering your arm and leg stilled wrapped around you. For some reason, you realize that there is not any where else you would rather be, and you’re finding comfort from the one guy that has been anything but to you. So you just continue laying there in his arms until the alarm goes off with the biggest smile on your face.

[jammydodger3579]

Young Lust pt. 2

Summary: Y/N needed a break from thinking about Logan... (no spoilers hehe) Read part 1 here.

A/N: Thank you all soooo much for the response to the first chapter, really my head cannot fit through the door. Anyway here is the second chapter, enjoyyy.

18+ for mature audiences only

2800+ word count.

Warnings: smut, oral fem!receiving, lil violence and a lil cursing

Still reeling after the encounter in the broom closet a few days ago, Y/N needed to clear her head. She threw on a jacket and left her room. She found herself in the garage, deciding that a ride on her motorbike would help. Her thoughts were loud. What did that mean? Logan never contacted her afterwards, he didn’t even say anything besides a polite goodbye before she left that night. It left her only longing more. Maybe that's what he wants? Y/N wouldn’t know. She was at a loss, pulling into the carpark of a bar nearby. A drink would do her good. She walked inside and went straight to the bar, ordering her favourite drink. The bar was busy due to a competition they were hosting, so the patrons were rowdy. Y/N scanned her surroundings by instinct. Two exits and a few windows. Y/N didn’t know why she was on edge, Logan kept plaguing her mind. An older man came and sat next to her. 

“Hey pretty lady, can I buy you a drink?” He sounded sleazy, he even looked like a predator. Y/N scoffed and moved away from him. “Hey come on now, is that how you treat a gentleman?” 

“I don’t want any trouble,” She said, getting up. 

“Neither do I, princess” The man stood up and cornered Y/N. Before she could react, the man was yanked back. All of a sudden, the man was pinned against the wall and punched in the face. She got out her handgun and aimed it at the two men before her. Y/N moved the handgun away when she noticed it was Logan in front of her. The bartender started yelling for them to leave the bar.  

“She doesn’t want you, bub” he growled through gritted teeth. The man, whose nose was spilling blood, squirmed away from Logan and left. Y/N finished her drink and left the bar. Logan followed after her. “We need to talk” 

“I don’t want to hear it” 

“What's wrong?” 

“What's wrong?” she scoffed, incredulously. “What's wrong is you don’t speak to me, you criticise me in battle, you fuck me in a closet and then you come in here all knight in shining armour like nothing happened. What is wrong with you?” She went to mount her bike when Logan touched her shoulder. He pulled her into a hug and held her there for a minute. Y/N wanted to sink into his arms and stay there but she pulled away. She wanted to know him like he knew her. “Well?” she pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag, “You wanted to talk?”

“I don’t know what came over me, I just didn’t want you to get hurt” 

“You’ve seen me fight, Logan, I can handle myself. I’ve handled a lot worse” She couldn’t read his face. He was like a brick wall and Y/N wanted to tear it down. 

“I don’t know where to start with you” 

“I just want you to acknowledge me, you didn’t say a word to me after we… after that happened. I don’t have the time for games. I want to know you” Y/N took another drag of her cigarette. 

“What do you want to know?”

“I don't know,” She thought hard “Do you often take people into closets?”

“Not for a long time,” Logan said, shifting his posture. “I’m not good with other people, but you, you’re different, you’re…” He trailed off. He wasn’t ready to finish that sentence. “We’re a good team, I think because we don’t talk about it” 

Y/N nodded, understanding. She wasn’t ready to talk about it either. That conversation was a can of worms neither of them wanted to open. Who they are, what they mean to each other. She admired Logan’s ability to read her without speaking. She didn’t want to say it, but she had to. “Casual… we can just keep it casual and see where things go. The others don’t have to know. We can just keep it between ourselves and-” She was cut off by Logan's lips pressing against hers. She leaned into it, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“I want whatever you want” 

“I want you” she breathed. Logan placed one last kiss on her lips before pulling away. He had a smile on his face. 

“Here?” Logan looked around the carpark, scanning to see if anyone was near. Y/N looked up and blinked. 

“No, not like that,” She said, lightly hitting Logan on the shoulder. “Get your mind out of the gutter” They kissed again. It was passionate and soft. Maybe they didn’t need to have in-depth conversations about their relationship to be on the same page. Just as the kiss started getting heated, Y/N’s phone rang. Sighing, she pulled it out of her pocket and answered the call. It was Yelena. 

“Hey it’s me, Stark called a meeting, he wants us there too. Are you far away?”

“Uhh, a little. I took my bike out. What’s this meeting about?”

“Not sure yet, but the X-men are on their way” Y/N’s eyes met with Logans. They’re probably expecting him as well. She decided to play it cool. 

“Fitting, I’m at a bar and I bumped into Logan here. We’ll meet you at the Compound” and before Yelena could ask questions, Y/N hung up the phone. 

“I’ll follow you, let's go,” Logan said, walking over to his bike. They rode their bikes to the Compound, Logan leading the way. The ride was peaceful this time, Y/N couldn’t help but admire the view. Once they arrived, they parked their bikes in the garage. Together, they walked up to the conference room. The very room where she and Logan had shared their first kiss. It suddenly dawned on Y/N, the jacket she was wearing. Logans jacket. He’d given it to her the night of the dinner party. And he never even mentioned it, that bastard. How embarrassing, she thought to herself. The room was filled, Kitty, Storm, Rogue and Bobby were with the Professor on one side of the table. Yelena, Sam, Bucky, Rhodey and Stark sat on the other side. Y/N took an empty seat next to her best friend. Logan stood near the Professor.

She leaned over to Y/N, “bumping into Logan, huh?” she whispered. Y/N shot Yelena a look that said “Don’t test me” before turning to Tony, who was handing out files. 

“Thanks for coming everyone, we have new intel on who's snatching these mutant kids and where they could be,” He said

“Widows?” Y/N said, taking the file and skimming through the words. Her heart started to beat so fast and loudly, she swore everyone could hear it. 

“We have reason to believe Dreykovs followers are experimenting on mutant girls to make a more powerful type of Widow. His army split up after his death and has been doing this since. They have multiple outlets, all over the world. We’ve been investigating this for a while but we weren’t 100% sure how to tell you two” Tony gestured to Y/N and Yelena. Yelena stood up from her seat. 

“You knew? And you kept it from us?” Her accent was thick, indicating she was angry. “How long have you known?” Tony hesitated. Y/N looked over at everyone, she could see it on their faces. They all knew. She felt embarrassed like she had something on her face and no one was telling her. “How long have you known?” Yelena slammed her hand on the table. This made Y/N jump. 

“Yelena-” she started when Tony cut her off. 

“Three months. When Charles came to us. He wasn’t sure how to handle the situation so he came to us and asked for our help. We just didn’t want you guys to take it too personally” Y/N scoffed. She couldn’t believe any of this. There were no words to describe how she felt. She needed to flee, to get some fresh air. Have a smoke maybe. As she stood up, she felt dizzy. These kids, these girls were innocent, helpless. She had to do something. Putting aside her current negative feelings towards Stark, she spoke up. 

“I’ll help… look if these kids are getting treated the way we did, then the worst has already happened. We have to put an end to this, and stop it from happening again,” She looked at Yelena, who nodded.

“I-I suppose you’re right…” Yelena took her file off the table and left. It must’ve been too much for her. Bucky got up and followed his girlfriend. There was yelling, mostly in Russian, and then a door slammed. Tony looked around at the rest of the group. 

“There’s information in everyone's files about which base they’re gonna take out. Y/N, if you want to help, you can go with Charles and Logan. We have enough beds here if you guys want to stay the night and then fly out tomorrow morning” Stark said. The Professor nodded. 

“That would be great, thank you,” He said before wheeling out of the room. Stark followed, sparking up a conversation with Bobby as they went. It wasn’t long until Y/N and Logan were the only two left in the room. Again. That day replayed in her mind, how the room fell silent as she and Yelena walked into the room. Were they talking about the two of them that day? If they were, how much of her past did Logan know? She wanted to scream, but that wouldn’t be productive. Logan walked over to her and put an arm around her waist but she moved away. She sat down and opened the file. There were photos of men from a lifetime Y/N had long forgotten, holding young girls and forcing them into vans. She recognised some of the Widows that were assisting, thinking they had died. Her heart ached as she read through the files. 

“I would’ve told you” Logan spoke softly. “Charles forbid it, said it could compromise the outcome” Y/N scoffed. 

“I’m not weak, I was top of my class, Yelena and I. I was trained to be heartless” She said, though her words didn’t sound strong. 

“No one would judge you if you sat out, we’d all understand” 

“I said I could do it, so I’m gonna fucking do it. These kids need someone on their side, someone who knows what they went through” Y/N turned around to face Logan. He had a soft look on his face, he was concerned. Y/N didn’t know that Logan knew what it was like to be used, beaten and experimented on. She didn’t know the lifetime of abuse that he had lived through. 

“Why don’t you get some rest, see how you feel in the morning” Logan said as she stood up from her seat. 

“I don’t need rest, I need to read through these files and figure out a plan” 

“We can do that in the morning, Charles will probably figure something out” Logan put a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, let's just take a break from thinking about this” 

“I can’t just “take a break” Logan. This is my life. I live with this every day. All my sisters I let down by not finding them. Now they’re being controlled and used to do this!? I escaped and went to a semi-normal life, these girls didn’t even get a chance. I should’ve gone back and investigated more. I just decided to push it all away”

“It’s not your fault. There's no one to blame except for the men in charge. C’mon, let's get some rest” He held out a hand to her, and she took it. 

“Can you… would you stay with me? Maybe… if you want” She sounded shy. Logan smiled and placed a kiss on her forehead. 

“Thought you wouldn’t ask, princess” They walked hand in hand to Y/N’s room. Once they were behind closed doors, Y/N pressed her lips against Logans in a desperate attempt at bringing him closer to her. Her hands went straight to Logans pants, trying to undo the belt buckle. “Whoa there, sweetheart. Are you sure you want this right now?” 

“Please, can we just forget about whats going on? It’s fine, I want this” she reassured, taking her shirt off. She was in a rush. “Why, do you not want to?”

“No, I want to, just feels like maybe you’d like to talk about how you’re feeling instead?” 

“C’mon now, we work better without talking” She looked up into his eyes before kissing his neck. His breathing hitched, he was enjoying it. Logan picked her up and placed her down on the bed, before taking off his shirt. He climbed onto the bed, his weight making it sink in the middle. Y/N smiled, pulling Logan in for a kiss. It was passionate, delicate. Logan snaked a hand behind her back, uncasping her bra skillfully with one hand. Together, they undressed, tossing their clothes onto the floor. Logan looked at the sight infront of him. 

“You’re so beautiful” he breathed. 

“Shh, no talking” Y/N said, kissing Logan. He moved down, kissing her neck, her collarbone, her chest before attaching his lips to her nipple. His hand went to her other breast, massaging it. Y/N moaned, arching her back to meet Logan. He tugged slightly with his teeth, gaining yet another moan from her. Logans eyes met with Y/N’s, asking silently if that was okay. She nodded for him to continue.  He trailed kisses down her stomach before he lifted both of her legs over his shoulders. He licked a stripe up her cunt, tasting her slowly. Y/N squirmed into his face. Logan smiled, before attaching his lips to her clit, sucking gently. She moaned loudly, swearing his name. Her hips buckled, causing Logan to put both hands on her lips and hold her down. He lapped up her juices like he was starving and she was food. It wasn’t long before Y/N was close to her end, her pussy clenching around nothing. Logan took this opportunity to insert two fingers, curling them up to hit just that spot. He gained a good rhythm, as he continued to eat her out. Y/N was trembling, her orgasm getting closer, closer, closer…

A deep moan escaped from her lips as she grabbed onto the sheets. Her face, a contorted shape of pleasure. She’d never been eaten out like that before. Logan was still going at it, slowing his fingers to allow Y/N to ride out her high. He looked up and his eyes met with hers. She pulled him up to meet her face before hungrily kissing him. She needed him, bad. She moved her hips to meet with Logans, and he quickly got the hint. He stoked himself a few times before he inserted his cock. Logan thrusted in and out, moving slowly at first to allow her to get used to his size. They moved insync, becoming one together. It was intimate, as Logan starred deeply into her eyes. Y/N pulled him down to kiss, wanting to feel every inch of his body on hers. Logan started kissing that sweet spot on her neck, causing her to dig her nails into his back. He leaned back onto his knees, holding onto Y/N’s hips, and he started to thrust in deeper and messier than before. She was getting close again, her eyes locked onto Logan’s as lust and desire filled his eyes. Deep down, she knew this was more than casual. She had feelings for him that she even didn’t know existed. She just couldn’t figure out if he felt the same way. 

“I-I’m close…” she breathed out, breaking her silence. 

“I know, baby” Logan said, kissing her. The contact threw her over the edge, wrapping her legs around Logan’s waist. She didn’t want him to leave and it’s not like she could get pregnant anyway. Logan came shortly after a few more thrusts, riding out his high. He pulled out and layed down next to Y/N, pulling her into his arms. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his racing heartbeat. 

“Thank you,” she said, drawing circles on Logan's abs.  “Anytime, now get some rest” With that, it wasn’t long before she drifted off. Y/N’s dreams were vivid. Images of Dreykov and his followers plaguing her mind. Saying she was worthless, replaceable, disposable. She tried to scream but no noise came out. She stirred, reaching her arms out to find Logan. But he wasn’t there. She sat up in bed, looking around the room. His clothes were gone. He was gone.

Next chapter here

[bonniebird]

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Requested by Anon

Masterpost

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Request: Anonymous asked: Aemond Targaryen and female Reader please. Alicent marries Aemond to one of Rhaenyras closest allies. Jodie Comer for face claim please.

You stared at the scrap of paper in your brother’s hands. Your breath caught in your throat as your two youngest siblings clung to you still sobbing though their eyes from red and swollen and their tears had dried up a long while ago.

“Well? Does aid come?” You pushed. He stared at the paper a moment longer before slowly closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“It is from Daemon and Rhaenyra. They cannot spare the men to come and rescue us. They suggest that we try to flee and give us permission to use their names to buy our way to Dragonstone.” He said quietly.

“They want us to abandon our home?” You asked sharply, squeezing your arms tighter around your siblings.

“There is more. Because of Rhaenyra’s devotion to our mother. In light of our parents… murder at the hands of Aegon’s men. As long… as long as we do not outright denounce Rhaenyra’s claim. The royal house will pardon us for whatever action we must take to keep ourselves alive.” Your older brother stuttered out. You all remained silent for a moment in your hiding place.

“Maybe we could stay here.” Your youngest sibling said. She was a sweet girl and you smiled at the thought.

“They will find us here eventually. We must wait until we can get away.” You said quickly. Your little brother, three years older than your sister, popped his head up off your shoulder and leaned back so he could look at you while remaining in your clutches.

“Tunnels! We could use the tunnels.” He said and smiled. You glanced at your older brother who frowned.

“The three of you would be able to fit.” He muttered. You shook your head and sighed.

“We will find a way for all of us. Or none of us.” You said adamantly.

“Go through the tunnels. I will go through the back corridors toward the kitchen. There is a tunnel down to the river just outside. I think I can get there and I should be able to get us some supplies.” Your brother said eagerly. With a reluctant sigh, realising there was nothing else any of you could do but surrender. 

“We should go at dawn. We will be able to get to the shore before sunrise and find a boat. The fishermen for the town nearby will be leaving then.” You whispered and leaned forward despite no one being able to hear you all in your hiding place. Your brother agreed and the plan was made. Through a small crack in the wall, your brother was able to keep watch until it was the perfect time. With your siblings' clothes checked that they were fastened and wouldn’t hinder them if they fled, the three of you bolted. Your younger brother yanked your hand, leading the way to the tunnel entrance. Your hands were sweaty and you could feel your heart pounding as you pushed against the statue that blocked the passage. The three of you slipped inside and worked together to try and pull the statue back into its original position.

******************

Aemond stopped as the men dragged the boy through the kitchen and out to the front courtyard of the keep. “Make him talk. There are three more. We cannot let them reach Dragonstone.” He shouted. Turning down the corridor he looked into the dimness that the morning light created. The torches were extinguished and there was an odd breeze. Slowly making his way down the corridor he held out a hand, letting the cool air graze over his hand until he stopped. There was a large statue that ran from floor to ceiling but under his foot there was a small lip. Crouching down he could see that the statute had been moved and when he dug his fingers into the side of the hard stone he found a gap.

“Here!” He shouted and a dozen men hurried to his side. They pulled on the statue and it slid aside. “Follow the path. Take whoever you find back to King's Landing” He commanded. Aemond went out to the front courtyard and winced. He had hoped the older of Rhaenyra’s allies' children would surrender. He lay on the stone floor of the courtyard staining his own rightful home with his blood.

“He had a letter. From the traitors.” One of the men said and handed a strip of paper to Aemond. It didn’t matter how they got the messages to and from Dragonstone anymore. It was clear that the family had been ferrying messages back and forth past Aegon's army.

“Well. Thankfully he is dealt with. We should go back to King’s Landing. We have what we need.” Aemond ordered. He left the keep and headed to a large clearing nearby. Vhagar was basking in the sunlight and lazily yawned at him as he approached. She allowed him to climb into the saddle but it took several attempts for him to rouse her and encourage her to move. It took so long that the army he was leading was beginning to march back. He flew on ahead and guided Vhagar towards where Cole had told him he would be before Aemond had left. It was a short flight with Vhagar gliding lazily through the cool air. He spent the afternoon at the camp Cole had made outside of the city and talked with him until late in the evening. A servant was sent in a carriage to say that his hostages from Rhaenyra’s allies keep had arrived. 

“Aemond.” Alicent called as soon as he entered. With a sigh, he looked up to the ceiling and muttered to himself before turning to see her hurrying down the stairs.

“You have not only killed them but their son too?” Alicent snapped. She glared at Aemond who shrugged.

“I gave them options. Tell my men what they wanted to know or…” Aemond trailed off and smiled at his mother who looked disgusted for a moment and shook her head.

“There will be no way to get that house to join ours. Their army has already left to join the blacks and you have left their keep unattended. For anyone to take for their own.” Alicent scolded. He looked at her carefully before raising an eyebrow.

“Mother. Perhaps your anger comes from your friend's betrayal. She was a friend you shared with the traitor in your youth. Was she not?” Aemond left his mother seething in the hall and went towards the council chambers where he knew Aegon would be waiting.

He heard her storming after him but made no effort to stop. He was wrenched to a standstill with his mother almost colliding with him when he opened the door to the council chambers. A girl was fiercely shouting at Aegon. Helena had her hands clenched over her ears as she pleaded with Aegon to simply send the girl, and the two smaller children that huddled behind her, to a room to rest as they’d clearly had a dreadful day. Otto sat with his head in his hands as Aegon bickered back with the girl who jabbed a finger in the air rather accusatorily. 

“(Y/N).” Alicent said. Her voice was soft, quiet, patronising. The way you might plead with an animal who had gotten itself foolishly stuck. Aemond bit back his judgement and watched as his mother approached the feral beasts. When Alicent reached out a hand to comfort the girl she slapped it away hard enough to make a crack that echoed around the room.

“Traitor! Liar!” She snapped at Alicent who shrank back. There was only fury on the girl's face. Nothing Alicent said or did changed that.

“Perhaps you should think of your brother here. He is the lord of your family now. You are only in a position to do whatever you need to survive.” Otto spoke up when Alicent finally surrendered and gave up on coaxing the girl around.

“He is not… My brother is.” She sputtered out.

“Your brother is dead. As is our mother and father. The rightful king and his hand offer you a chance to redeem yourselves. After your parents gave their support to the would-be usurper.” Aemond spat out. The girl clung to the children who began to wail again.

“He is not king.” She muttered. Helena let out a quiet plea and pulled on Aegon’s arm when he started to get to his feet but Alicent moved forward. Motivated to defend the honour of her son or her younger self it was impossible to tell.

“Enough. You have been told lies. We are not the villains. We will raise your brother and keep his house in order until he is old enough. Because your mother and I were once dear friends before Rhaenyra turned her against me. You. You will wed Aemond. Your army will return to your keep and your father’s bannermen will swear fealty to Aegon.” Alicent commanded and then waved her hand dismissively at Cole who roughly grasped the girl's arm while she was still frozen with shock.

Screeching and shouting filled the halls as Cole dragged you through them and no amount of fight stopped him from roughly shoving you into a room. Turning to charge at him he pushed your sister into the room and you had to stop short to avoid crashing into her. Your attempt to avoid her gave Cole just enough time to slam the door and lock it.

“Let us out!” You shouted as you pounded on the door. Your youngest sister huddled by the window across the room. She had cried herself out and was hiccuping quietly to herself. Your brother had been pulled away under the guise of giving the young lord his own rooms someone had informed you through the door.

“We could send another letter to Rhaenyra… or Baela. She likes us.” Your sister said quietly. You smiled and hurried to sit down beside her.

“Yes. She does like us. That is why we are alive. We know them. They may as well be our own family. You cannot tell anyone here any secrets or anything we know about them. Rhaenyra will want revenge for our mother and father. Jace and Baela will want revenge for our brother. We must work together to help them.” You said in a whisper. Your sister smiled, too young to know the danger of your suggestion but feeling rather grown up at being allowed to take part.

“Like the Valeryon lady in the story Rhaena tells? The one with the coloured flags?” She asked and you nodded recalling the story Rhaena and Luke liked to tell the younger two. One about a Valeryon woman who took to the sea and would communicate with a code made up of several coloured flags flying at different heights.

“Yes! Exactly so. We will find a way to get messages to her. That way if we cannot escape before I am made to wed Aemond, we can steal their secrets and get them to Dragonstone.” You grinned at your sister who smiled wearily and shuffled towards you. She climbed into your lap as you leaned against the wall next to the window and asked you to tell her the flag story as she fell asleep in your arms.

Tags:

@decadentrebelkitten @samhainrain @moonmaidwn1996 @gillybear17 @ravennoore14 @the-caravello-post @killing-gremlin @aegonandaemondtargaryenslut18 @lchufflepuffcorn @geekyandgay98 @lightqueen16 @savagemickey03 @kaitieskidmore1 @sashawalker2 @taemyra @tronnily

[littlemochabunni]

1-800-TROUBLE

Serial Killer!Suguru Geto x Bimbo!Fem reader

Content: 18+ MDNI!!! Serial killer Geto, Bimbo bunny girl reader, fuckboy victims, blood and homicide mention, implied roofing, knife play, deepthroat, degrading (slut, whore) + praise kink (princess, baby sweetheart, love), daddy kink, Multiple O’s, & Creampie

A/N: Ahhh sorry for the delay my sweet freaks, but I did it and I must say holy shit I’m nasty 💀; AND UM HELLO?? THANK YOU FOR 1.1K?!?!? I seriously cannot find the words to describe how happy and grateful I am for each and every one of you <3. I love you and enjoooy 🖤

wc: 3.7k

 On your way home from a party you take a few wrong turns, and when you try to call your…. Overprotective boyfriend your phone dies before you get the chance to tell him the cross streets, you’re at. With it being late on Halloween night, most of the house porch lights are off your feet continue to carry you down this foreign neighborhood until you hope to see someone could help you. Tears begin to sting your eyes with each street corner you turn, and the nip fall air strips you of any warmth from your cropped puffer jacket Suguru made you wear before you left. You definitely wish you listened when he warned you repeatedly to charge your phone too… 

Police sirens are blaring in the far distance from where you originally started which means only one thing… “One of the officers can take me home!”  Right… 

Trying to follow the sounds to guide you out of the maze of houses you’re lost in. You find a group of men sitting in an open garage, drinking with the tv on in the background. Although you know Suguru told you not to talk to strangers especially when they’re drunk, what other people were around that could possibly help you?

“Excuse me? Hi, I’m like super lost…Can I borrow your phone or a charger please?” Every one of their eyes grazes over your body before meeting your eyes, and of course the man that looks spot on for a Chad speaks up first, “Ooo a sweet bunny girl like you all alone? Need me to come warm you up?” You glance around the garage spotting the space heater near the couch he’s sitting on and a bright smile appears on your face. “It would be nice to get out of the cold while I charge my phone!” You happily skipping inside the garage to sit near the heater and immediately feel so much better now that you're off your feet… Little did you know that with this little interaction…. you won’t be back on your feet anytime soon. 

All eyes are on you and you're like an innocent hare unaware of the foxes preying in the tall grass. 

“So, you gotta a name sweetheart?” Asked the store-brand version of Derek Shepherd. “Uhh I’m a bunny, duhh?” The men all blink at you before bursting out in a fit of laughter. You don’t understand how that was hilarious, but you’ll take it as a compliment. “Funny and cute… But seriously what’s your real name?” 

  Hearing that emergency number Suguru always tells you to remember if you're lost coming from the braking news announcement about some house party incident. You focus on the tv and ignore Chad’s questions, “Hey can you turn the tv up? I think I know that number.” The extra quiet man, who remains you of your friend's creepy uncle Lester, turns up the tv and it retells the gruesome murders of the house party that just occurred half an hour ago…. 

“The next image we show may disturb some viewers…” 

Grumbles and tsk scatter among the men around you as they get a glance at the gruesome writings on the wall. You squint your eyes as you notice a similar stamp Suguru uses when he writes you love letters…. Your stomach drops at the thought of someone else using that beautiful stamp for something so… horrifying. 

“This message along with a description of the women and the phone number were left at the scene of the crime…” The woman proceeded to describe you from the hair on your head to the holographic boots you’re wearing. The men in the garage are too drunk to realize that you’re exactly what the killer wants, “Please if anyone has any information regarding this woman… please call: 1 (800) 876-8253… That’s 1-800-……TROUBLE… Again, that number is 1-800-876-8253…” 

You begin to feel guilty about making Suguru so worried about you that he had to go to the local news to find out where you were. Tears fill your eyes as you quickly try to turn on your phone only to realize that you forgot to plug it in, “Sorry um… I really need to call that number. Can I use one of your phones please?” Chad looks towards you smirking smugly, “Oh sweetness, I’ll let you use my phone only if you put your number in it too.” Your teary eyes brighten as your request is going to be made possible, “Oh thank you soo much.”  

Chad hands you his unlocked phone and you begin dialing the number with a bright smile on your face as it rings, “I hope he answers... I know he's so worried.” You don’t notice how Chad’s smirk fades nor the other two men grumbling about how long it’s been since either of them have gotten laid... As you mention a ‘he’ Chad scoffs as soon as the phone is answered, “You got some fucking nerve to be using my phone to talk to another dude… you fuckin’ tease.” You pout as Chad lets his blue balls speak for him and off brand Derek Shepherd snorts as he turns the tv off, watching every unfold between the two of you, “Hold on kay’? You don’t have to be so mean...” You hear heavy breathing on the other side of the phone which pulls your attention back towards your initial plan, “Um Hello? I’m the woman that the lady was talking about on TV? Daddy told me to call this number if I got lost? H-Hello?” A familiar growl is heard before a distorted voice rings through your ear, “Where are you.” The rough demanding voice sends tingles down your spine and your frown quickly turns into a smile of relief that you’ll be able to get home safely. “Uhh let me ask them real quick,” You look between store-brand Derek and Chad like you’re so close to winning the lottery, “Uh what’s the address?” Derek gives you uneasy smile before looking away and Chad holds his hand out asking for his phone back, assuming you thought he’s going to tell the person the address for you. “Oh, he’s gonna tell you for me, here ya go!” As you pass the phone back to Chad, and he gets up and walks into the house... 

“Ay don’t bother coming to get the girl or calling this number back. She’s gonna be too busy taking my dick.” Chad says boastfully, “The only dick she’s takes is mine.” The distorted voice says darkly. “Ha not tonight big guy. You can have her back in the morning.” Chad says before ending the conversation… 

A few minutes of awkward silence goes by before creepy uncle Lester gets up to shut the garage. Chad comes back to the garage with two beers in hand before handing one over to you and sits back in his spot of the couch, “So did he tell you his way here?” Chad takes a swig of his beer as he glances between Derek and Lester, then gives you tight smiles and nods. “Yeah yeah… might take him a while, so you should get comfortable sweetheart.”  With the good news you smile brightly and tap your nails against the glass bottle softly, “You know we never got you name little bunny?” Lester speaks to you for the first time, but his eyes don’t meet yours. He’s too busy undressing what little clothes you had on. “Well neither did you silly! I mean it is Halloween. Do names really matter?” Lester tsk at your response and mutters whatever under his breath as he struggles to open another beer in his drunken state. “Aren’t you gonna drink? Don’t need you wasting our beer and our time.” Chad chimes in with his half full beer in hand, although his words are bitter his tone is sickeningly sweet as if he was speaking to a child. 

“Oh! Actually, I don’t drink beer it’s like super gross. You got like a soda or somethin’?” You chuckle as you place the beer on the table. An uncomfortable feeling sets in as the men stare at you. They all exchange looks between each other, but a late night.... An extremely late-night trick or treater knocks at the door before anyone can act or say anything... Derek is the one to get up to answer the door, “Who and the hell let’s their kids out this late...” he grumbles as he walks into the house.  Lester grabs your open beer off the table, but Chad warns him not to, “Now now... You shouldn’t drink the lady’s drink. Have some respect dude.” Lester waves him off, but grungily puts your drink back down on the table. “Sooo is that a no to having any soda?” Both men ignore your question and Lester turns the TV back on. 

A few minutes go by since Derek went to go answer the door, and just as Chad gets ready to go check the situation, his phone begins to ring with the caller ID being Derek himself, “Dude where the hell did you go?”  

“Sorry about your boyfriend, all those muscles didn’t help much.” the distorted voice rings through his ear and chills ran down his spine, and he doesn’t react too kindly to this prank, “Who the hell is this?” Chad spits venomously into the phone. “Why don't you come find out, filthy monkey.” The call ends before he can respond, and Chad being himself isn’t the type to pussy out to any threat... Yet something in the back of his mind is telling him not to go... “Bro let’s go see what’s going on...” Chad taps Lester leg to as he dozes off, “What? Why the hell do I have to go?!” Lester protest, “Don’t be a pussy and get up.” You perk up as they both get up to head inside the house, “Ooo can you get me a soda too!” Lester is the first to head inside the house, and just before Chad follows suit, he turns on his heels towards you with an irritated look, “You’re cute, but dumb as rocks y’know that sweetheart?” You pout and he leaves you in the garage alone.  

Ten minutes go by, and a lot of banging and muffled voices are heard from inside the house, but Suguru always tells you not to go digging your nose into other people's business. So, you reach over to grab your phone... which is still dead because the charge itself wasn’t plugged in, “Goddamn it! Guru is definitely pass pissed off by now...” You bend over the back of the couch to plug the charger into the wall. 

“Your incompetence never fails you does it Princess?” Suguru’s voice startles you, but his appearance is something straight out of a horror movie alone, “Aww Guru, you scared me! Aww, and you did dress up for Halloween after all! I wish you came to the costume party.” As you ramble on and on, Suguru gives you that same smile he always gives you when you’re so oblivious to the dangerous things around you. He sauntered towards you, luring you deeper into a false sense of security.  Not that you would notice any of the rage he was feeling… No, he made sure that you would feel just how angry he was when you’re his good little mindless cock—

“Y/N.” he utters as you continue on about how you wondered about and met the men, he had the pleasure of coming across himself. You’re lost in your own world which isn’t helping you out of the punishment of Suguru’s wrath… only makes it harder and harder for him to fight the need to carve his name into your skin. 

“My poor poor little slut. You have no clue how much trouble you are, do you?” You gasp as he grips your hair at the base of your skull, forcing you to strain your neck to look into his darkened eyes, “I-I ‘m sorry you had to go to the news to find me, Guru… I won’t be so... S-so careless next time…” Suguru chuckled humorlessly at your words and his grip tightened causing you to whimper. “It's always next time with you… Next time I tell you to do something you fucking do it. Do you understand that you brainless brat?” You nod slightly which only angers him further, Suguru press the very same blade that took the lives of the people from the party and those disgusting pricks in the next room, “Use your fucking words or I’ll cut that pretty little voice box of yours from your throat.” Tears well up in your eyes as you swallow the fear in your chest, “Y-yes daddy.”  you mutter timidly. Suguru’s grip loosens slightly, and he gives you a sadistic smile, “That’s my good girl, now stay very still...” He slowly glides the blade down from your throat to the harness of your costume, you keep your eyes on his as he swiftly cuts the leather fabric like it’s nothing. “You have no idea how many people I’ve killed just for looking at you Princess… How many times have I told you to stay out of trouble, hm?” You look around as you think about each time Suguru has told you and you begin to count each moment on your finger, and he laughs mockingly when you do so. “It’s a rhetorical question, dumb bunny.” You pout confused at his statement. “Soooo was I supposed to repeat the question?” He presses the blade against your cheek with light pressure and he smiles as you stiffen at the sensation, “Let me do all the thinking for you,” Suguru unbuckles his belt with his free hand, he pulls out his throbbing cock from its restraints and you gasp softly at the sight of his cock stands a few inches above your lips, “Open your mouth princess.” without hesitation you open your mouth, relaxing your jaw as he slide his cock down your throat with easy. Pushing your face closer to his pelvis “That’s it princess, just relax don’t think.”   

Your eyes roll back as you choke with his thick cock down your throat. You squeeze your thighs together, attempting to gain some sort of friction. Suguru groans out feeling you gag on his cock; he smirks as he glides the blade down the laces holding your corset together cutting away the fabric slowly, causing you to flinch. 

You gasp at the stinging sensation when the blade deeper against your skin, “Now did I tell you to move princess?” Suguru scold you as he pulls you off his cock, “I-I’m sorry daddy I just really like this outfit...” He mentally rolls his eyes while caressing your cheek and smiling at you, “Don’t worry about that love. We can always replace materialistic things, but we can’t replace you, so stay still like a good girl.” He brushes he cock against your lips, and you gleefully take his cock down your throat once more. 

Gaging and moaning at the feeling, he curses under his breath while gripping your hair into a makeshift ponytail pushing his cock deeper down your throat, “Fuuuck baby— such a good little slut. My good little slut, yeah?” He cuts you free of the suffocating corset letting your breasts breathe freely, your eyes water while you look up at him. 

 That was just what sent him over the edge of holding back, Suguru sets the blade on the couch and grips the back of your head to pull back slightly leaving the tip his cock resting on your tongue, “Take a deep breath f’me sweetheart, time I fuck your throat properly.” Before you could even take in a complete exhale, Suguru shove his cock back down your throat, fucking it relentlessly without any mercy in sight the sounds of his loud groans fill your ears, “Sh-Shit— y-you fucking attention needing slut. You love pissing me off, don’t you? Showing your ass to all those filthy fuckin’ monkeys.” His harsh words leave a pool of excitement dripping down your thighs and the lack of oxygen you dig your nails into his thighs, desperately needing his cock to fill your cunt.  

Suguru grunts as you do so and roughly pulls out of your throat, and a long web connects your swollen lips to his tip. You cough roughly whilst finally taking in a deep inhale, “Daddy please? Please fuck me! Can’t wait anymore please? Ple—” Suguru grabs you by the neck pulling you up to your feet, and your bodysuit falls to the floor. He growls into your ear, and more tears fill your eyes as you squeeze your thighs together tightly, “You’re already crying, and I haven’t even touched you yet.” Suguru chuckles darkly while caressing your wet cheek, “If you’re this much of a mess just from sucking my cock, I can’t wait to ruin your cunt.” You let out a choked moan as his grip slightly tightens around your throat, “P-Please?” Begging him to ruin you just how he wants... With those wet red eyes, tears-stained cheeks, swollen lips... 

 Suguru’s grip tightens as he pulls you closer to whisper in your ear, “Bend over now.” He releases his grip and picks up the blade once more. You step out the bodysuit completely, placing your knees on the couch with your ass in the air then lowering your upper body down to rest on your forearms. “All soaked just from sucking me off? Or did those monkeys get my slut excited, huh?” Suguru glides the blunt side of the blade against your thigh and hip while spreading your slick slowly with his fingers. Shuddering at his touch and the blade against your skin, “O-Only you daddy! Can only get this wet from your tou— mmn!” You whimper softly as the tips of his fingers tease your clit, deepening the arch in your and his cock twitches at the sight. “Such an eager little bunny aren’t you sweetheart?” Suguru places his knee on the couch behind you while keeping the other on the floor. 

 He taunts your cunt with his tip making you wiggle and moan, “Keep. Still.” His icy voice kept you still as a statue and from making another sound all together. You’d forgotten about the blade against your skin all together, too excited for his cock being deep in your guts…. He’s still pissed off and he’s not letting you off that easily… 

 Without warning he bottoms you out, pushing every atom of oxygen from your lungs, “You really thought I’m gonna fuck you because you deserve a treat? Oh no princess.. I’m taking away your privilege of being able to walk freely without every step remaining you that you.. belong… to me..” Suguru bullies your cervix with a few more deep thrusts before pulling out, giving just a few seconds to fill your lungs with air again and he slips back into your cunt while gripping you hair to keep you from running away. “Su-Su!— D-Daddy! Wa— fuuuck!” His cock keeps your brain from calling out any mercy you think he’ll have on you, without realizing you cum around his cock and only broken words and screams can be heard. Suguru pulls you up from the couch and bites on your neck harshly, marking you in the most mundane way he can. Fighting his sadistic needs, “Don’t try to talk your way out of this now Princess. Remember you begged for this, so take it.” He growls in your ear while dancing the blade up from your hip to your navel. Fear and pleasure overwhelms your senses as he continues to fuck you like he absolutely despises you, and taunts you with the sharp object against your skin. “D-Daddy pleeease! Ah a— ‘m sorry!” You cry out while panting heavily and drool begins falling from your lips, yet Suguru ignores your pleas and opts for you muffled screams instead. “Bite.” He brings the handle of the blade to your lips and without question you bite on the handle, muffling your sounds. Suguru stops his movements all together leaving you to throb around his twitching cock buried inside of you, “So you listen when you want to and not when you need to, is that right y/n? Or is it because I fucked the remaining brain cells you have outta ya, you can’t complain now?” Hearing him say your name your rolled back eyes start to focus, and your breathing becomes heavier as he only speaks your name when you’re in the type of trouble where no one and nothing could save you from him… 

“Oh don’t worry precious. I’m not gonna hurt you… You’re gonna feel real good. I can promise you that, but you don’t get to stop cumming on my cock until I say you’ve learned your lesson.” Suguru takes his free hand and grabs both your wrist, placing them behind your back, giving your neck a kiss before thrusting inside your cunt at an animalistic speed. Your mind short circuits causing your eyes to roll back and muffled screams to leave your lips, “S-Shit you like when I fuck you like this, don’t you? You love being my little brainless whore.” Suguru’s words are confirmed when you scream as your second orgasm hits you harder than the last, and your body trembles uncontrollably.  Suguru groans as you tighten and cream around his cock, leading him to chase his high and he tightens his grip on your neck, pulling your body back against his like you’re his personal fuck toy. “Be a good doll and milk my cock, yeah? I just might forgive you for the trouble you caused.”  

In your fucked out state, you do as you’re told and bounce back on Suguru cock, trying to match his pace. “That’s it princess. That’s it— Fuuck~” Suguru shoots his load deep inside your cunt, triggering another orgasm of your own. Drool runs down your chin as you tremble and moan out, Suguru groans in your ear and takes the blade from your lips to kiss you passionately. “D-Do you f-forgive me daddy?” You croak out as you look at him with heavy eyes. His raven hair brushes against your cheek as he whispers, “Oh.. Oh princess….. Not even a little.” 

A/N: Somewhere along the way during my….. research I ended listening to Badjhur annnnd I haven’t been the same since.. But anyways! Thank you so much for reading!!! 🖤

tags: @fuyuaika @ykimobessed @smolbeanzzz @bontensbabygirl @euvwia @etherealmaya @macsimagines @hoshigray @biscuitsngravie @tojisbutterfly @bunz-lover also!!! If you don’t see your tag it’s because tumblr wouldn’t let me 😭😭 I promise I haven’t forgotten about you 🥺🖤

[spicyllewyn]

When you walk away.

Moon system x F ! Reader.

"When you walk away, Cut me open, take my heart So we'll never be apart Don't you let it go to waste."

Tags & warnings. NSFW, NON-CONSENSUAL. (+18)

Word count. 2.5k

Summary. You, literally, physically, cannot break with your boyfriends. (Inspired by the reddit story.)

The 4 of you were in tune, just as you had been throughout your entire relationship. Steven, Marc, and Jake were aware that this would happen at some point or another, much to their liking sooner rather than later, but sometimes there's not much you can do. Sometimes, being the keyword.

As time passed, your patience dwindled little by little. Cleaning Jake's wounds, comforting Steven's nightmares, and picking up the broken pieces of Marc's fits of anger became 'too much' when you realized that you were the one living with pain silently most of the time.

It wasn't their fault, you were aware of that, you couldn't deny that they loved you, and you didn't have the strength to lie to yourself about it, but you also knew that there was no way they would rid themselves of the title of vigilante. Khonshu didn't let them go, but they didn't fight as much as you would like either.

The sound of the door pulled you out of your thoughts, and one last time Marc's exhausted expression caused a stir in your heart. You gave him a small smile, and he, seeing that strange expression, knew that the day had come.

"What are you doing awake?" He closed the door behind him.

"I was waiting for you." When your body shifted to one side of the couch, there was space for him beside you. Marc understood, the couch creaked under his weight, he was right at the corner of it, raising his arm to the backrest to be able to touch your shoulder with his fingers in a loving gesture. "We need to talk."

He nodded silently, his breath hitched but he managed to disguise it for you.

"I can't do this anymore, Marc." Your voice broke when you said his name, and he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze as if trying to convey the strength you needed to continue. "I love you but I think this isn't the best for either of us."

He nodded again, biting the inside of his cheek.

"I understand." He didn't make a scene, he didn't raise his voice, and he didn't plead, and even though the tears trapped in his eyes portrayed the real pain he felt, you knew he loved you too much to make this harder for you.

Marc would never turn the knife that he had already stabbed you with when he agreed to be in a relationship with you. He pulled your wrist and with a push, he brought you against his chest where you cried for a good 10 minutes until his voice caught your attention.

"I'm going to leave, okay?"

"You don't have to do it, not now." You checked the time on his watch; he still had an arm around you. "It's late."

"I need to be alone." His lips occasionally brushed against your hair, small kisses that carried the scent of your shampoo. "Please."

This time it was your turn to nod silently.

Your bodies broke the hug, and both of you felt the cold of the night hit you like a truck. You watched with crossed arms as he removed Steven and Jake's posters from the walls; he never liked putting up decorations of that kind.

He packed up what he could in some boxes, books, clothes, even a picture frame with a photo of both of you, he loaded everything into Jake's car.

He took your cheeks one last time, and you enjoyed the taste of mint in his mouth, those chewing gums he used to try to relax his anxiety, those that never worked. When Marc left, you sent a couple of messages to acquaintances to break the news because you had been together for so long that your partner could already be considered part of your family and your group of friends; you received some immediate responses.

Mostly words of encouragement, regretting that things hadn't worked out.

You went to sleep in a cold, lonely bed, but with a strange sensation, as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You had the chance to start over, to live a life with fewer worries.

Things could get better.

Steven's late-night podcast woke you up around 10 in the morning on Saturday, accompanied by a delicious scent of waffles; you knew it was him because the coconut aroma always prevailed in his vegan breakfasts.

Without opening your eyes, you complained to yourself. Were they trying to change your mind now? You were ready to argue.

The feeling of discomfort caught your breath in your lungs when you opened your eyes and saw the posters back on the wall. Looking down was also a surprise; you were wearing one of Steven's shirts, your favorite for sleeping.

You could swear Marc had taken it the day before along with many of his things.

"Love?" Steven's smile slowly faded when you appeared in the kitchen, an uncomfortable expression on your face. "Is something wrong? Are you okay?" He stopped what he was doing to walk up to you, his delicate touch landing on your cheeks just as Marc had done the night before, squeezing them to get your attention.

"I think... mhm." You let him interrupt you with a kiss. "I had a bad dream." Or at least, that's what you were trying to convince yourself. There was no other explanation for this happening.

"Sorry for leaving you alone in bed, I was starving." He looked genuinely concerned as his forehead rested against yours. "I made waffles for you; I know they're your favorites."

You spent the morning with him, and Steven being as affectionate as always didn't surprise you; that simply was Steven's personality. As the day went on, you understood that you had only experienced an extremely lucid dream, so you would have to go through this again somehow.

While your boyfriend rested his head on your lap, you stretched just a bit to grab your phone, which lit up with a message arrival, and you took the opportunity to check one last time that you weren't going crazy. You scrolled through all the messages, and there was none talking about breakups or anything close; in fact, your last message had been sent to their shared phone, you saying you missed them without receiving a response.

Your other hand, almost by inertia, played with Steven's curls as you searched for any sign that told you that the previous night had indeed happened.

Nothing.

"Are you okay?" He mumbled sleepily; apparently, your fingers had tensed in his hair.

"Mhm." You swallowed hard. You couldn't do this again; it felt like a cruel joke of life. "Can we talk? Please?"

Very much against his will, he straightened his back and faced you. Those beautiful brown eyes with dark circles underneath looked at you with as much admiration as they always had, his fingers intertwined with yours, and his thumbs stroked your hands.

"What's wrong, love?"

"We can't be together anymore." It was better if you did it bluntly, as if ripping off a band-aid all at once rather than doing it slowly.

His expression gradually fell, tears filled his eyes, his brow furrowed, and a small pout appeared on his lips. His fingers slowly tightened around yours.

Your hands hurt from the way he clung to you.

"Steven, you're hurting me." You sobbed too when you saw him cry openly. When you stood up, he fell to his knees in front of you without letting go. If only your dream had been real; going through this was hurting your heart twice as much as you had ever imagined.

Another reminder that Marc and Steven were not the same person.

"Sorry, I-I'm sorry." He stuttered as you helped him to his feet. He released your hands to hug you against his chest, almost cutting off your breath with the suddenness of his movements. "I'm sorry, love."

Sorry for what? He hadn't done anything wrong in the relationship; not all breakups arose from mistakes on either side, sometimes things just didn't work out, and that was it.

He, internally, knew very well why he was apologizing to you.

"I need to be alone, Steven." You whispered when you felt him hiccup against you in pain; his shirt you were wearing felt damp by now at shoulder level.

You gently pushed him back by the chest, and he took a step back, still trembling.

"I... Y-yeah, of course, I... understand." He forced himself to take a step back.

"Jake's car keys are where they always are." With heaviness, you had to turn your back on him, or you knew he would never leave. You could feel his brown orbs glued to you for just a few seconds before the slam of the door made you startle.

You ran your hands over your face in desperation. Facing it a second time had been worse, but things were done, fortunately, and you could talk about it better later, or at least that's what you hoped, when he felt calmer.

You sent messages giving the news, unlike your dream, this time it was a way to beg that no one asked about Jake, Marc, or Steven. You didn't have the strength.

A pair of arms tightened around you strongly causing you to groan in the middle of your sleep. You snapped your eyes open, feeling suffocated by the pressure.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You slurred as you struggled to get out of his grip.

“What's wrong, princesa?” He growled lowly as he pulled you tighter against him. He raised his head a little so he could look at you. He had barely one eye open, and thus he managed to look confused.

“Let go of me, Jake!” You were noticeably upset, his arms seemed to enclose you with increasing force as if he didn't notice that you were on the verge of a panic attack. The previous few hours hadn't been a dream, you were sure.

Your back hit his chest and you felt his breath on your neck.

“Wasn't one round enough for you?" His hips collided with yours to give emphasis to his words. “Do you want me to get you tired, amor?” One of his arms continued to take your breath away while his right hand moved down your body, stopping at one of your tits, squeezing it with his fingers almost in a playful way before continuing to crawl downwards, heading between your legs.

“Let go of me, I don't even know what the fuck you're doing here.”

Your voice cracked, breaking his heart.

But not as much as it would break him to let you go.

“I live here, tontita.” His fingers were rubbing against your pussy lips slowly. Up and down, forcing you to open your legs a little more.

“Jake, please.” Your eyes were filled with tears. This was a horrible nightmare.

“Shh, be a good girl for me, okay? I had a long day.”

You didn't even put in any strength. You didn't have it anymore. As his fingers played with you, his hips pushed against your ass, over and over, rubbing his boner against you.

He was going to admit it, even he couldn't imagine being attracted to the idea of ​​something like this. But after your attempts to escape, this felt like a way to reaffirm that you belonged to him.

“Look how wet you are, did you miss me?” When he got tired of his fingers doing the work he forced them into your mouth, making you taste yourself.

Steven's shirt that you again didn't remember wearing made his job easier, only pushing aside your panties to insert his cock deep inside your being in a single thrust. And you no longer knew if you were sobbing from pleasure or fear.

You didn't remember him being so rough to you before. With one push he flipped you onto your stomach with him crushing your entire body, where he could thrust more comfortably with a handful of your hair tangled in his fingers.

You heard the bed creak, his gasps, and you felt your face wet from your saliva and tears filling your pillow.

“Fuck, that's just w-what I needed.” He was using you. You could recognize it, sex between you always meant pleasure for both of you, now he seemed to be using you as a thing where to leave his cum.

Between tears and kicking, deep down, you knew you were liking it.

He didn't last long, not right when he discovered how much he liked taking you this way. You slept with him next to you, with his sperm running down your legs and wishing this too had just been a dream.

You didn't search for them around the apartment the following morning; as soon as you got up, you ran straight to grab a suitcase, if you didn't escape your own damn mind was going to drive you crazy.

Three days had been enough to make it difficult for you to differentiate between reality and your lucid dreams or whatever it was you were experiencing. You bumped into Marc as you exited the room.

"Woah, what's going on?"

You didn't even respond to him; you couldn't even look him in the face after what they had done to you.

"Move!" You pushed him as hard as you could, grabbing your phone, which for the third time had not a single message about the breakup.

"Sweetheart?"

"How the hell dare you ask me what's wrong!?" You were shattered, your mind, your body, you. "Last night, Jake... "

"Huh?" He interrupted you with a furrowed brow. "We just got here, sweetheart."

No, no, no, no, he was lying to you.

He had to be lying to you. You wanted to wipe that confused expression off his face with punches and tear off the hand he was using to point at Jake's car keys in their place.

You put them there; he just threw them wherever when he arrived.

And truth be told, when you looked down between your legs, you were almost too clean.

You were going crazy.

"Fuck off, Marc." Erratically, you ripped the charger off your phone from the wall and almost ran to the front door as if he were chasing you. Which clearly he wasn't. In fact, he wasn't doing anything except looking confused. "You and Steven and Jake, leave me alone."

The slam of the door made you feel free, as did the car horns and sounds of street vendors.

That night, you searched for the farthest motel you could find; you kept your phone off after sending messages to acquaintances assuring them you were okay but didn't feel comfortable sharing your location with them at the moment.

Ah, and at least you had a good night's sleep, after a long time.

“Pancakes or waffles?”

Steven's voice made you snap your eyes open. Your head was on his arm, and you felt the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed against your back.

Tears filled your eyes when you recognized the place around you.

Your home.

When your sobs reached your boyfriend's ears, you immediately felt him place a kiss on your shoulder.

"What's wrong, honey? Did you have a bad dream?"

:)

[novaursa]

The Price of Fire (4)

- Summary: In the shadows of the Red Keep, the daughter of the Mad King, Princess Y/N Targaryen, finds herself caught between duty, love, and survival. As her father’s madness deepens and political intrigue swirls, she seeks solace in a forbidden romance with her sworn protector, Ser Arthur Dayne. With King Aerys plotting to use her as a pawn and her brother Rhaegar maneuvering to shield her from their father’s grasp, Y/N must navigate a web of deceit and desire. As tensions rise, secrets ignite into fierce passion and dangerous alliances, where the wrong move could mean the end of them all.

- Paring: targ!reader/Arthur Dayne

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is Rhaegar's younger sister, has silver hair and violet eyes. For the rest of the parts and more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (Aerys is warning on his own)

- Word count: 7 000+

- Previous part: 3

- Next part: 5

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @onlyrealjoy

Inside the royal pavilion, the air hums with lingering excitement from the day’s events. Courtiers and nobles mill about, exchanging pleasantries and gossip over cups of spiced wine while servants move discreetly through the crowd, refilling goblets and offering trays of delicacies. The colorful tapestries lining the pavilion walls depict scenes of dragon conquest and ancient Valyrian splendor, but none of the finery can fully mask the undercurrents of tension that swirl beneath the surface. Eyes dart toward you wherever you move, curiosity and judgment mingling freely as whispers trail behind.

You remain close to Arthur, the clamor of the gathering fading into a dull hum as his presence grounds you. His expression is stern, his watchful gaze sweeping the pavilion, but there’s a hint of warmth in his eyes whenever they meet yours. He stands tall, a silent sentinel by your side, yet you can feel the subtle tension in him—his awareness of every potential threat, every prying glance. Despite the spectacle Rhaegar made, despite the victory, there’s still a part of you that longs for a moment of peace away from all the politics, away from prying eyes.

You lean slightly closer to Arthur, your voice barely above a whisper as you glance up at him. “Ser Arthur, don’t you think we could slip away for a bit? Just the two of us?” Your tone is light, playful, though the desire in your words is genuine. You want to escape this gilded cage, even if only for a while—to feel the cool breeze on your face, to walk under the stars without the weight of a thousand eyes watching your every move.

Arthur’s eyes soften at your words, and though his expression remains composed, you catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You know as well as I do that your absence would be noted, Princess. The court has a way of turning even the smallest actions into tales fit for a song.” His tone is gentle, but there’s a trace of regret in it—regret that he cannot give you what you want.

You let out a soft, wistful sigh, your fingers grazing the delicate embroidery on your gown as you glance toward the entrance of the pavilion, where the evening sky is just beginning to darken into twilight. “Perhaps, but a girl can dream, can’t she?” You turn your gaze back to him, your eyes glinting with mischief. “Or is it that you enjoy keeping me trapped in this web of courtiers and schemers?”

Arthur chuckles softly, the sound low and warm. “If it were up to me, you’d be free to go wherever your heart desires, Y/N.” His voice drops slightly, growing more intimate as he adds, “But as much as I’d like to steal you away for a few moments of peace, I fear it would only cause more trouble for us both.”

You tilt your head, a small pout forming on your lips as you teasingly press, “You’re telling me the Sword of the Morning can’t whisk me away without anyone noticing? I must say, I’m a little disappointed.”

His eyes brighten with amusement, but he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he leans in just enough that only you can hear his next words. “The Sword of the Morning could take you anywhere, Princess. But we both know there are some battles best fought with patience rather than steel.”

The truth in his words tempers your playfulness, though the yearning to be anywhere but here lingers. You take a step closer, your voice softening as you allow a touch of sincerity to slip through. “I just want to forget, if only for a little while. To be somewhere quiet, where I can breathe.”

Arthur’s gaze holds yours, his eyes filled with understanding. “One day,” he promises quietly, “I’ll take you to a place where no one will follow. Where it’s just us, far from all of this.” There’s a conviction in his voice that sends a shiver down your spine—a vow that you know he would see through if he could.

But before either of you can say more, a pair of nobles approach, their smiles wide but their eyes sharp as they bow low. “Princess Y/N,” one of them begins, his voice dripping with false charm, “might we have a moment of your time? The court is eager to hear more about your thoughts on the day’s events—particularly Prince Rhaegar’s most recent… performance.”

You force a polite smile, the mask slipping back into place as you turn to face them. “Of course,” you reply with practiced ease, “it was quite the spectacle, wasn’t it?”

As they begin to engage you in tedious small talk, Arthur shifts slightly, moving just enough to remind you that he’s still close by, still watching over you. You can feel the tension return, the game of words and hidden meanings resuming as you navigate the conversation with careful precision.

But even as you exchange pleasantries and deflect veiled barbs, your thoughts drift back to Arthur’s quiet promise—a promise that lingers like a secret between the two of you, a flicker of hope in a world where true freedom is scarce. Perhaps you cannot escape tonight, but the dream of it—the thought of a future moment where it’s just you and him, away from the court’s scheming eyes—remains a small comfort amid the chaos.

And as the night deepens, you cling to that dream, knowing that within the heart of this twisted game, there are still those who would stand with you, those who would fight to see you free, even if only for a fleeting moment beneath the stars.

Noble lords and ladies, their jewels glittering and silks rustling, drift like moths toward the center of attention—Rhaegar Targaryen, who strides into the pavilion with Ser Barristan Selmy close behind. His entrance is nothing short of a spectacle; every head turns as he moves with the easy grace of a prince born to command attention. The victors’ laurels still adorn his brow, their silver leaves catching the light as he offers a smile that is both charming and distant, fully aware of the role he plays in the court’s eyes.

Almost immediately, Rhaegar is swarmed by a flurry of nobles eager to win his favor. Ladies bat their lashes and flutter their fans, while lords congratulate him on his victories and subtly position themselves closer in hopes of currying favor. The pavilion hums with the sound of fawning praise, laughter, and whispered conversations, all revolving around the Dragon Prince.

Rhaegar plays his part well, his smile never faltering as he exchanges pleasantries and light banter. But you can see the weariness in his eyes, the way his gaze occasionally drifts toward where you stand with Ser Arthur, as if searching for a reprieve from the performance. He catches your eye briefly and offers you a quick, almost conspiratorial wink—another silent jest shared between siblings, an acknowledgment of the absurdity of the court’s endless games.

You stifle a laugh and return a small, knowing smile, but your attention is quickly drawn back to the growing commotion around Rhaegar. A lady of House Redwyne practically drapes herself over him, offering a goblet of wine with a flirtatious smile, while a lord from House Hightower attempts to regale him with tales of his own minor victories in a past tourney. It’s a well-choreographed dance, and Rhaegar navigates it with the skill of someone who has been performing all his life.

But just as the energy in the pavilion reaches its peak, the air changes. The soft murmur of conversation halts as an unmistakable voice booms across the hall, sending a shiver through everyone present. 

“Enough!”

King Aerys’ voice is harsh, grating, and filled with an anger that slices through the air like a blade. The once lively pavilion falls deathly silent as every head turns toward the raised dais where the king sits. His gaunt frame is cloaked in shadows, but his wild, silver hair and the glint of madness in his eyes are all too visible. His fingers twitch against the armrests of his seat, a sign of his growing agitation.

“Are we here to indulge in vanity?” Aerys’ voice rings out, cold and edged with fury. “To prance and preen like peacocks in heat?” His eyes sweep the hall, alighting on Rhaegar with a look that is both possessive and accusing. “You think yourself above it all, don’t you, boy?” Aerys’ voice drips with venom as he glares at his son. “Winning wreaths and favors while the realm crumbles beneath our feet?”

The tension is suffocating. Nobles who were moments ago vying for Rhaegar’s attention now shrink back, their faces pale, trying to avoid drawing the king’s ire. The festive atmosphere has been shattered by Aerys’ outburst, and even those closest to him appear uncomfortable. You can see Tywin Lannister’s jaw tighten, though he wisely says nothing.

Rhaegar remains where he is, composed but with a somberness that settles over his features. He meets Aerys’ gaze unflinchingly, though there’s a careful respect in his posture—he knows better than to challenge his father directly in this state. “My actions were meant to honor our house, Father,” he says calmly, his voice measured. “The people must see strength and unity from the royal family in these troubled times.”

Aerys’ laugh is sharp and joyless, sending a ripple of unease through the room. “Unity?” he sneers, leaning forward. “Or the illusion of it? A wreath of flowers won’t protect you from the knives waiting in the dark.” His eyes flick toward you, and there’s something in his gaze that makes your blood run cold—an unsettling mixture of pride and malice. “And you, my sweet daughter… so eager to play the part of the realm’s darling. Do you think their love will save you when the fires come from above?”

Ser Arthur tenses beside you, his hand instinctively moving closer to the hilt of Dawn, but you place a calming hand on his arm. This is not a moment to escalate, no matter how your heart races. The entire pavilion is watching, holding its collective breath as Aerys’ gaze sweeps the room once more, daring anyone to speak out.

But before the silence can stretch too far, it is Rhaegar who breaks it. He steps forward, bowing his head slightly, not in submission, but in a gesture of respect. “The fires can be controlled, Father, with careful hands and wise decisions. The people look to us for guidance. We must be their beacon, not their torment.”

Aerys’ eyes narrow, his lips curling into a snarl. “Careful hands… wise decisions…” he echoes mockingly. “You speak like a man who has forgotten the true nature of power. Power is fear, Rhaegar! Fear keeps men in line, not these hollow displays of affection.”

The silence that follows is heavy, but Rhaegar does not waver. He simply stands there, his expression calm, yet his eyes burn with defiance—not openly, but enough for those who know him to see it. You can sense the tension crackling between father and son, a battle fought with words and looks, but one that has far-reaching consequences.

For a long moment, it seems as though Aerys might lash out further, but then, as suddenly as it came, his rage seems to ebb. He leans back in his throne, waving a hand dismissively. “Go on then,” he mutters, his voice laced with disdain. “Continue your little charade, but know this, my son—when the storm comes, your songs and smiles will be worthless.”

Rhaegar bows once more, a gesture as much for the court’s benefit as for Aerys. “I shall keep that in mind, Father.” He turns away from the dais, and slowly, the gathered nobles begin to resume their conversations, though the air remains thick with unease. The joyful energy has been replaced by something colder, darker. Even Cersei, who usually thrives in such tension, keeps her distance, her eyes calculating as she watches the interaction between father and son.

Rhaegar makes his way back toward you, his face betraying nothing of the turmoil beneath the surface. He nods briefly to Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan before turning his attention to you. “It seems I’ve soured the mood,” he says lightly, though there’s an edge to his voice that only you can detect.

You shake your head, offering a small, sympathetic smile. “You did what you had to, Rhaegar. He was looking for an excuse to lash out. I’m only glad it didn’t go further.”

Rhaegar’s expression softens at your words, but before he can respond, Ser Arthur speaks up quietly. “The king’s mood is mercurial. We should be cautious tonight. These are the moments when whispers turn to daggers.”

Rhaegar nods in agreement, his gaze distant for a moment as if weighing unseen threats. “You’re right, Ser Arthur. We must tread carefully.” His eyes shift back to you, a flicker of concern in their depths. “Stay close, Y/N. There are too many eyes on us tonight.”

You give a small nod, understanding the weight of his words. The court is watching, waiting for any sign of weakness to exploit.

The pavilion’s lively chatter slowly resumes, but the undercurrent of tension remains. The air feels thick with secrets and unspoken intentions. As you stand beside Rhaegar, your eyes scan the crowd, taking in the various courtiers, knights, and lords mingling like pieces on a gameboard. And then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of someone moving with far too much subtlety to be simply blending in.

Varys.

The spymaster, clad in his familiar silk robes of muted colors, hovers near the edge of the gathering, his smooth, shaven head reflecting the torchlight. He seems to be watching everything and nothing at once, his fingers steepled in front of him as he offers shallow smiles to those who greet him. But you know better—Varys never lingers without purpose. His eyes dart briefly in your direction, a flicker of interest in the depths of his ever-watchful gaze before they shift elsewhere, as if cataloging every interaction for later use.

A shiver of unease runs down your spine. Varys is always lurking, always observing, but tonight, his attention feels more pointed, as if he’s assessing more than just the usual political maneuverings. You’re about to mention this to Rhaegar when he suddenly takes your hand, a playful smile on his lips.

“Dance with me, sister,” he says in a low voice that’s just loud enough for those nearby to hear. There’s a playful challenge in his tone, but beneath it, you sense something more—a need to steer attention away from whatever plots are bubbling under the surface. 

Before you can protest, Rhaegar is already leading you toward the center of the pavilion, where musicians are preparing to play a slower, more intimate tune. You can feel the gazes of the court shift, some envious, others curious, as Rhaegar’s boldness once again takes center stage. But this time, there’s a layer of privacy in his gesture, a protective shield raised under the guise of a dance.

The music begins, a lilting melody of strings and flutes, soft and sweeping. Rhaegar’s hand is warm on your waist as he guides you into the steps, his movements smooth and assured. The world around you blurs slightly as you move in sync, your brother’s presence comforting despite the eyes tracking your every move.

As you sway together, Rhaegar’s voice drops to a near whisper. “I saw Varys too,” he murmurs, his expression not betraying the words as he spins you gracefully. “He’s watching closely tonight. I have a feeling more is afoot than just petty court politics.”

You glance up at him, your brow furrowing slightly. “What do you think he’s after? He always has his webs, but his interest tonight seems sharper.”

Rhaegar’s gaze briefly flicks toward the edge of the pavilion where Varys lingers. “He thrives in chaos and uncertainty, and tonight’s spectacle gave him plenty of both. But he’s careful—he’ll make his move only when he’s certain it’ll be most advantageous. For now, we play our part.”

You let out a breath, focusing on the dance, on the comfort of Rhaegar’s familiar presence. “I suppose we’re giving him quite a performance,” you say lightly, though your mind races with questions.

Rhaegar’s grip tightens slightly as he pulls you closer in the next step, his voice growing softer. “Keep your wits about you. Varys isn’t the only one with hidden motives. Father’s mood is unpredictable, and there are too many in this court who would seize any opportunity to stir unrest. We’re treading on thin ice.”

Meanwhile, back at the edge of the pavilion, Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan watch with sharp eyes, their duty clear as they remain vigilant. Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Gerold Hightower join them, each knight exchanging brief, knowing glances as they survey the scene.

Jaime, still young but already carrying the confidence that comes with being a Lannister and a member of the Kingsguard, leans toward Arthur with a smirk. “The court will be talking about this dance for weeks. Prince Rhaegar certainly knows how to keep them entertained.”

Arthur’s expression is unreadable as he watches you and Rhaegar move together, though there’s a protective glint in his eyes. “Entertained or distracted,” he replies coolly, never taking his eyes off you. “The prince knows the value of keeping eyes where he wants them.”

Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander, nods in agreement, his face set in a stern line. “We do our duty, but tonight, that duty may be more than just guarding against open threats. The tensions are rising, and the wrong move could tip the balance.”

Barristan adds quietly, “It’s not just the king we need to watch. The lords are restless, and the alliances are shifting like sand. One misstep, and the court could fracture.”

The knights’ conversation fades into the background as you and Rhaegar continue to dance, the music swelling gently around you. Rhaegar spins you one final time, his hand lingering on yours as the dance draws to a close. The court’s applause is polite but filled with underlying curiosity—what more will the Targaryen siblings do to keep them guessing?

As you step back, Rhaegar offers you a reassuring smile, though his eyes carry the weight of unspoken thoughts. “Remember, sister,” he says softly, “the dance isn’t just on the floor. It’s in every word spoken, every glance exchanged. And tonight, the game is only beginning.”

You nod, understanding that the true battle isn’t fought with swords or lances, but with the subtle machinations of power, influence, and perception. And as you return to your place beside Arthur, the warmth of Rhaegar’s hand still lingering on yours, you’re reminded that while the court may be a nest of vipers, you’re not without your own allies—loyal and steadfast, even in the darkest of times.

Arthur steps closer to you, his gaze unwavering. “You danced beautifully, Princess,” he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You offer him a small smile, though your mind is still preoccupied with the threads of intrigue weaving around you. “Thank you, Ser Arthur. It’s easier with a partner you trust.” 

His eyes meet yours, a silent promise shining in their depths. “You can always trust me,” he says simply, and there’s no doubt in his tone.

The night air cools as the celebrations wind down and the nobles of the court retire to their chambers. The flickering torches lining the corridors of the Red Keep cast shadows that dance along the stone walls, lending an air of quiet intimacy to the passageways. You walk beside Ser Arthur Dayne, his presence a comforting warmth amidst the chill. His steps are measured, ever the composed knight, but you sense the underlying tension in him—the awareness that tonight’s events have set new pieces in motion, even as the court pretends to sleep.

The distant sounds of revelry fade as you ascend the winding steps toward your private chambers. Arthur’s hand hovers near the hilt of his sword, a silent reminder of his vigilance, but there’s a softness in his gaze whenever it drifts toward you. Despite the weight of duty and the unspoken dangers lurking in the shadows, there’s a quiet joy in just walking beside him, away from the prying eyes of the court.

When you reach your chambers, you pause before the door, your heart beating a little faster. You glance up and down the corridor, ensuring that no one is near before turning back to Arthur. His eyes meet yours, and you can see the question in them—what is it you need to say that requires such privacy?

But you say nothing. Instead, with a boldness that is entirely your own, you step closer, your fingers brushing against the leather straps of his armor as you pull him down toward you. His breath hitches, and for a heartbeat, the world narrows to just the two of you, the echo of distant conversations and the chill of the stone walls fading into oblivion.

You rise on your toes, closing the distance as you press your lips to his. The kiss is immediate and fervent, fueled by the stolen moments and unspoken desires that linger between you. Arthur’s hands hesitate for just a moment, a knight torn between his vows and the love that he carries so deeply in his heart. But then, with a soft groan, he gives in, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other wraps around your waist, pulling you closer. The metal of his armor is cold against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat of his kiss, which is slow and deep, as if trying to savor every second of this fleeting moment.

Your fingers thread through his dark hair, tugging gently as you pour every ounce of longing and affection into the kiss. The intensity of it is both thrilling and tender, a merging of passion and trust. You lose yourself in it, in the taste of him, in the way his breath mingles with yours, in the warmth that spreads through your entire body.

But reality, as it always does, catches up. You both pull back, reluctantly breaking the kiss, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. Your foreheads rest against each other’s for a brief moment, eyes closed, as if neither of you are ready to let the night slip away just yet.

“Y/N,” Arthur whispers, his voice thick with emotion. His thumb brushes against your cheek, tracing the curve of your jaw as if trying to commit every detail of this moment to memory. “Goodnight,” he adds softly, the word carrying with it an affection that transcends any formal title he might use.

You smile up at him, your voice equally tender. “Goodnight, Ser Arthur.”

He straightens slowly, his reluctance clear in the lingering touch of his hand before he finally lets go. His expression is one of quiet resolve as he steps back, his features softening only for you. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything,” he says, though you both know he’s not just guarding your chambers—he’s guarding your heart, and his own.

You take one last look at him, holding onto the warmth of his gaze before turning and slipping inside your chambers. The door closes softly behind you, and the world feels a little emptier without him beside you. But you take comfort in knowing that he’s there, just outside, standing sentinel as he always does—loyal, steadfast, and devoted in ways that words can barely express.

As you lay down for the night, the memory of his kiss still tingling on your lips, you find a measure of peace in the knowledge that, in this vast and treacherous world, there is someone who loves you purely and completely. And even as you drift off to sleep, you know that come morning, Ser Arthur Dayne will be there, ready to stand beside you, ready to face whatever the day may bring—just as he’s always done.

The Red Keep is shrouded in darkness, with only the pale moonlight and dim torches casting an eerie glow on the stone walls as the night drags on. But within the throne room, flames dance wickedly, fueled by wildfire—a sickly green light that twists and flickers, illuminating the twisted face of King Aerys as he watches the scene before him with a sadistic gleam in his eyes. The stench of burning flesh already hangs in the air, a putrid reminder of the madness that has seized the man who once wore the crown with dignity.

The great doors creak open as the Kingsguard, all clad in their white cloaks and shining armor, file into the throne room. Ser Arthur Dayne is among them, his face set in a grim mask as he takes his place beside Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Gerold Hightower, and the others. Aerys barely acknowledges their presence, too enraptured by the spectacle he has orchestrated. At the foot of the Iron Throne, a group of criminals—ragged men, trembling with fear—are chained and forced to kneel, awaiting the king’s judgment. Their fates are sealed, though. This is not justice, but a sick ritual born from a mind long unhinged.

Arthur’s jaw tightens as he watches Aerys give the signal. He has seen this before—the mad king’s need to wield fire as both punishment and entertainment—but it never grows easier to witness. The flicker of flames reflects in Aerys’ eyes as he watches the pyromancers approach, their hands already stained with the remnants of their craft.

“Burn them,” Aerys hisses, his voice a twisted mix of glee and malice. “Let their screams echo through the night. Let the realm remember the price of treachery.”

Arthur’s stomach churns at the words. The criminals before them are no lords or plotters; they are petty thieves, street rats caught up in the chaos of the celebrations. Yet here they are, about to meet a fate far worse than they could have ever imagined. For a moment, Arthur’s mind drifts—away from the madness in the throne room, away from the sight of men and women about to be consumed by green fire—and toward the one person who anchors him in this hellish world.

Y/N.

He can still feel the ghost of your kiss, the warmth of your touch pulling him back to a place where honor and love are more than just words. Leaving his post outside your chambers was not easy; every instinct screamed at him to remain close to you, to protect you from whatever dangers might lurk in the night. But when the summons came from the king, there was no choice. Duty, that heavy, ever-present chain, pulled him here to witness this horror.

The crackle of wildfire snaps him back to the present as one of the criminals is dragged forward, his pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. Arthur’s eyes flick to Ser Jaime Lannister, who stands rigid beside him, a different tension visible in the young knight’s posture. Jaime’s usual air of confidence, almost arrogance, is gone. Instead, there is something unsettling in his expression—a deep unease that Arthur hasn’t seen before.

As the flames roar to life, engulfing the first man in a swirl of sickly green, Jaime flinches, his eyes narrowing with something close to disgust. He’s seen bloodshed, has killed for the king more than once, but this—this grotesque spectacle—disturbs him in a way that even Arthur can feel. It’s in the way Jaime’s fingers grip the pommel of his sword, white-knuckled, and the way his gaze flicks away from the burning man as the screams fill the room.

A quiet murmur escapes Jaime’s lips, more to himself than anyone else. “This isn’t justice… it’s madness.”

Arthur hears him, the words resonating in his own heart. He glances at Jaime, catching the flicker of doubt and something else—fear, perhaps—lingering in the young knight’s eyes. For all Jaime’s bravado and ambition, even he cannot mask the revulsion that this twisted show evokes. And yet, they are all powerless to stop it. To intervene would be treason. To speak out would be to sign their own death warrants.

The screams continue, echoing off the stone walls, a twisted symphony of agony that only fuels Aerys’ glee. The king leans forward, his eyes gleaming with pleasure, every muscle in his gaunt frame taut with anticipation for the next burning.

Arthur clenches his teeth, forcing himself to remain still, even as bile rises in his throat. He has fought in battles, has seen men die in ways that haunt even the bravest, but this—this perversion of power—gnaws at the very core of what he stands for. He thinks of you again, of the way you looked at him with such trust when you said goodnight. The thought of your warmth, your strength, is the only thing keeping him from walking out of this nightmare.

As the next criminal is dragged forward, another wretched soul pleading for mercy, Arthur’s thoughts return to you. How long can this go on? he wonders. How long until Rhaegar, until all of us, are forced to confront the monster that wears the crown?

But for now, all he can do is watch, stand guard, and keep his silence. There’s a brief pause in the horror as the pyromancers prepare more wildfire, and in that moment, Arthur’s gaze drifts to the Iron Throne itself. It looms above them, a grotesque reminder of the blood and fire that forged the Targaryen dynasty. He imagines you sitting far from here, safe within your chambers, unaware of the darkness unfolding in the dead of night. He clings to that image, letting it temper the rage and helplessness that threaten to consume him.

The screams begin again, and this time Jaime doesn’t even try to hide his disgust. He turns his head slightly, muttering under his breath, “How much longer must we endure this?” His voice is barely audible, but it carries a weight that hints at something more—something dangerous brewing beneath his surface.

Arthur doesn’t answer. There’s nothing to say. The madness will continue for as long as Aerys holds power, for as long as fear keeps the court in thrall. But Arthur’s resolve hardens as he endures the sight of another man consumed by fire. He will endure, for your sake. For your safety, for the fragile light you bring into this world that is so consumed by shadows.

When the night finally ends, when the ashes are all that remain of Aerys’ latest victims, Arthur knows he will return to his post outside your chambers. He will stand guard until the dawn breaks, ever vigilant, ever ready to shield you from the darkness that threatens to swallow them all.

But even as he fulfills his duty, his thoughts will remain with you—the one person who reminds him that there is still good in this world, that love, honor, and loyalty can survive even in the heart of madness.

The acrid scent of smoke and charred flesh still clings to the air as the throne room falls into an uneasy silence. The pyromancers have withdrawn, and the few remaining embers sputter out in grotesque puddles of green. The grim scene lingers, a stark reminder of the twisted spectacle Aerys just reveled in. The King’s voice, though now quiet, echoes faintly in the back of Arthur’s mind—a chilling contrast to the man he is sworn to protect. 

Arthur steels himself, pushing down the lingering disgust, his thoughts instinctively turning to you, safe in your chambers—or at least, he hopes so. He’s just about to focus on getting through the rest of this wretched night when a movement in his periphery catches his attention. 

From the shadows of the throne room, Varys glides toward him, his steps unnervingly quiet against the stone floor. The spymaster’s silken robes rustle softly, giving him an almost ghost-like quality. He moves with a practiced, unnatural grace, his expression unreadable but for the faint, polite smile that rarely leaves his lips. Despite the horrors witnessed tonight, Varys seems utterly unperturbed, as if he is simply taking a pleasant stroll through the castle gardens.

“Ser Arthur Dayne,” Varys purrs, his voice as smooth as oiled silk. “A most eventful night, wouldn’t you agree?”

Arthur’s hand instinctively tightens around the hilt of Dawn, a reflex born from knowing that nothing about Varys’ approach is ever innocent. He keeps his expression neutral, though his tone carries an edge as he responds, “You have a talent for appearing just when the shadows grow darkest, Varys.”

Varys’ smile widens ever so slightly, his eyes gleaming with unspoken amusement. “Why, it is my duty to know what transpires in every corner of this keep, whether in light or shadow. We each have our roles to play, after all.”

Arthur’s eyes narrow as he studies the spymaster. There’s a disarming charm to Varys, a softness that belies the razor-sharp mind lurking beneath. Arthur knows better than to underestimate him, especially on a night like this. “And what role are you playing tonight?” he asks, his voice low but firm. “What game are you involved in this time?”

Varys tilts his head slightly, his expression one of mock surprise. “Game, Ser Arthur? I merely do what is necessary to keep the realm… stable.” He glances briefly toward the Iron Throne, where Aerys still sits, mumbling to himself in a half-mad reverie. “Though, stability is a precarious thing these days, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Don’t play coy,” Arthur says, his patience thinning. “You’re too deliberate for idle conversation. What do you want?”

Varys sighs softly, as though disappointed by Arthur’s directness, but his smile remains in place. “If only more men in this court were as forthright as you, Ser Arthur. Very well, I shall not waste your time with pleasantries. The realm is changing, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Old loyalties are shifting, and new alliances are being forged—even in places one might not expect.” He pauses, his eyes studying Arthur with unnerving intensity. “But it is not just the lords and ladies of Westeros who must be watched… it is also those who guard them.”

Arthur’s grip on his sword tightens further. He knows a veiled threat when he hears one, but Varys’ words are too slippery to grasp. “What exactly are you implying, Varys?”

“Implying? Why, nothing at all.” Varys’ tone is light, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes. “I merely caution you, Ser Arthur, to be mindful of where your loyalties truly lie. Kings, queens, and even knights—each of them can be swayed by forces beyond their control. One must always be prepared for what comes next… lest they be caught off guard when the winds change.”

Arthur’s mind races. He knows Varys is circling something, though it’s difficult to discern exactly what. “And you would position yourself to benefit from those changes, I imagine,” Arthur says coolly. “You’ve built your webs across the realm—so tell me, Varys, what do you gain from tonight?”

Varys’ smile thins, his voice lowering to an almost conspiratorial whisper. “I gain only what I’ve always sought—peace for the realm. But peace requires certain… sacrifices, as I’m sure you understand.”

The spymaster’s words hang in the air, thick with hidden meanings and unspoken threats. Arthur’s eyes narrow, his mind flicking back to you—still waiting in your chambers, blissfully unaware of the sinister undertones woven into the fabric of this night. He knows Varys well enough to understand that nothing he says is without purpose, and that whatever plot is brewing, it’s already in motion.

Before Arthur can press further, Varys gives a slight bow, his voice returning to its customary silken cadence. “I would not wish to keep you from your duties any longer, Ser Arthur. It would be most unfortunate if the princess were left unguarded.”

Arthur’s heart skips a beat at the mention of you, his protective instincts flaring. “I don’t need reminding of my duty,” he says sharply, stepping closer, his presence imposing. “And if you even think of involving her in whatever schemes you’re spinning, I’ll make sure it’s the last mistake you ever make.”

Varys meets Arthur’s gaze without flinching, his smile never wavering. “Why, Ser Arthur, you wound me. I would never dream of causing harm to one so beloved by both prince and knight alike. My interests lie elsewhere… for now.”

With that, Varys steps back into the shadows, the smile on his lips the last thing to fade from view. Arthur watches him go, unease churning in his gut. The conversation has only confirmed what he feared—Varys is playing a dangerous game, one that involves more than just lords and kings. And while the spymaster’s intentions remain obscured, one thing is clear: you are not as far from the heart of these machinations as Arthur wishes you to be.

As he turns back toward the entrance of the throne room, ready to return to your chambers, Arthur’s thoughts remain troubled. The realm is shifting, and those who live by honor and love must tread carefully in a world where shadows and secrets rule. But no matter what comes, no matter how dark the night may grow, Arthur knows one thing with absolute certainty: he will protect you from it all, even if it means standing against the very forces that bind him to his duty.

With a firm resolve, he strides through the darkened corridors of the Red Keep, his steps quickening as he approaches your chambers. For tonight, and for every night to come, he will be there—your sword in the shadows, your shield against the encroaching darkness.

In the Tower of the Hand, the midday sun filters through the narrow windows, casting harsh light on the richly adorned chamber. The city outside is alive with the continued festivities—cheering crowds, lively music, and the clamor of merchants and revelers filling the streets. But within the tower, the mood is anything but celebratory.

Cersei Lannister paces back and forth, her golden hair gleaming in the sunlight as her expression shifts between fury and frustration. She’s dressed in her finest crimson and gold gown, a statement of power and prestige, but her usual air of confidence is marred by the tension in her movements. The memory of the tourney—and Rhaegar’s public rejection of her advances—burns like a fresh wound. Every step she takes is fueled by the humiliation of having been overshadowed, not just by Rhaegar’s sister, but by the entire spectacle designed to push her aside.

Tywin Lannister, seated at his desk, watches his daughter’s agitation with a calculating gaze. He is the picture of calm authority, his green eyes cold and assessing as he steeples his fingers and waits for Cersei to exhaust her initial fury. He’s always known that his daughter’s ambition burns as brightly as any Lannister fire, but tonight’s slight has ignited a new level of determination—and perhaps desperation—in her.

“It’s disgraceful,” Cersei hisses, finally stopping in front of her father’s desk. “Rhaegar makes a mockery of me, flaunting that Targaryen girl before the court as if she’s his queen already. How dare he? I was promised—” Her voice catches as she swallows down the indignation. “I deserve to be at his side. I’m the future queen, not her.”

Tywin’s expression remains unmoved, his voice cold and measured. “Promises, my dear, mean nothing when they are not backed by power. And right now, Rhaegar is demonstrating his influence, not just in the lists but in the court. He’s reminding us all that his family comes first, a message that serves both to show his loyalty and to reject yours.” He leans forward slightly, his gaze sharpening. “But this is no reason for you to lose your composure.”

Cersei’s eyes flash with anger. “You want me to be composed, Father? When that girl flaunts her brother’s favor as if she’s already queen in all but name? She has no place in this! We must act—now, before they’re too entrenched in their little charade.”

Tywin’s lips thin as he considers her words. “The girl is a problem, yes, but not an insurmountable one. You must understand, Cersei—Rhaegar is not easily swayed by simple flattery or shows of ambition. His mind is set on keeping her close, and if we are to change that, we must be smarter.”

Cersei’s frustration bubbles over. “Smarter? I’ve been subtle, Father. I’ve been patient. I’ve done everything expected of a future queen, but he still doesn’t see it. What more can I do? If Rhaegar insists on pushing me aside for his sister, what hope do we have?”

Tywin rises from his chair slowly, his towering presence adding weight to his words. “Listen carefully, Cersei. You are a Lannister. You do not whine, and you do not complain about what you deserve. You take what is rightfully yours. The prince is playing a dangerous game, but so are we. And unlike him, we are not bound by sentiment. You will continue to present yourself as the ideal match, and I will ensure that Aerys sees you as the only option worthy of his son.”

Cersei’s eyes narrow. “The king favors no one now. He’s lost in his madness, more concerned with his twisted games than with making alliances.”

“Precisely,” Tywin replies smoothly. “Which is why we must be persistent. Aerys has always been prideful, and his hatred of me is well known. But even he can be made to see reason when it benefits his fragile grip on power. If you show Rhaegar the strength of your position—if you make it clear that you are the future queen the realm deserves—then even Aerys will be forced to acknowledge it.”

Tywin’s eyes bore into hers, his voice softening slightly, but the steel remains. “You will not win this by competing with that girl in beauty or charm. You must be relentless. Show Rhaegar that only a queen like you can secure his rule, stabilize the kingdom, and bring the Lannisters fully into his service. Aerys may be mad, but he is not blind to the strength of our house. If we persist, Rhaegar will have no choice but to consider the advantages of uniting with us.”

Cersei’s anger doesn’t fully dissipate, but she begins to see the path her father is laying out. “And what of the princess? How do we deal with her?”

“Leave her to me,” Tywin says, his voice icy. “She is a mere distraction—elevated by her brother’s affection, yes, but ultimately vulnerable. If we press the right levers, even Rhaegar’s precious sister can be pushed aside. You must focus on showing Rhaegar that he cannot afford to ignore you. The court is fickle, and influence shifts quickly. Give them something to rally behind.”

Cersei’s eyes glint with renewed determination as she steps back, nodding slowly. “Very well. I’ll make him see that I am the queen he needs—the queen this realm deserves.”

Tywin watches her with the faintest hint of approval in his eyes. “Good. But remember, Cersei, patience is as much a weapon as ambition. We will strike when the time is right, but for now, you must play your role perfectly. Every gesture, every word must reinforce your position as the rightful queen of Westeros.”

Cersei’s anger cools into a calculated resolve. She gives her father a curt nod before turning and sweeping out of the chamber, her mind already turning over the possibilities. She would be the queen. It was her destiny. And no dragon-spawned princess was going to stand in her way.

As Tywin watches her go, his expression remains unreadable.

[barefoothighlander]

Hi! I hope you're well.

I have a request that may not be achievable and thats okay! Really, its just a thought.

What if the reader is a new recruit to the team and has the nickname 'Reaper' due to her skull Balaclava and skill (https://www.tumblr.com/men-wearing-masks/652072573328392192/skull-mask-week-day-47?source=share) from her other teams.

They're mainly a sniper but are amazing at everything. They're smaller than the rest of the team (I'm picturing an afab) but they're silent and bring death with them.

For example; Ghost is noticeable by his naturally intimidating presence but Reaper cannot be noticed unless you're actually looking for them, and when they pass, it feels as if a cold shiver has gone down your spine.

I picture this being a Ghost x reader because they're just as good as ghost, if not better, and everyone teases him about that. Making jokes about how reader is on top because a Reaper is higher up the chain than a ghost. Then I feel like on a mission reader gets sick of it, but in an attempt to be 'part of the team' they make a joke that's sexual in nature about her being on top which just sets ghost off.

If you don't do anything with this, totally understand, hope this wasn't just a silly rant though 'xD

Much love,

🔳

ok, sorry this took me so long to respond to I was trying to flesh it out but I hope it fits what you imagined

warnings: typical violence, death

“Hostiles are taken care of, you’re clear for entry” You call it in through your comms, you’re sat high on a hill, hidden from view by the dark as the team infiltrates.

“Copy Reaper, moving in”

You walk as Ghost and Soap make their way into the building, changing your sight to check in on windows.

“I’ve got eyes on two, south east window”

No response

“Alpha team I’ve got eyes on two, how copy?”

The comms are silent, you don’t think you just move, sprinting down the hill before you’re in front of the target building, you can hear the echoes of gunshots.

“Soap I’m at the entrance, what’s going on in there”

You hear someone inside yell, deciding to rush in to cover, you make your way through the rooms, clearing them before heading up the stairs to follow the noise. You see muzzle flashes at the end of the hallway, you slowly make your way down before turning into a room, Soaps backed against a wall struggling with one of the men, you raise your gun to fire but your arms are quickly pushed away,

“Reaper, on your left”

You struggle against the man in front of you, using your foot you kick at his knee knocking him down, your knife raising to plant in his neck before you pull it out, throwing it across the room, it lands in the shoulder of the man strangling Soap, he screams in pain and Soap is able to push him off to kill him.

“Thanks”

You nod your head, “Where’s Ghost?”

“We split down a hallway, comms went dead a few seconds after”

“Why do these always turn into rescue missions”

“Maybe he likes being saves by you”

You roll your eyes at him, picking up your gun and advancing around the building, there’s no sign of Ghost in the rooms.

“Stay inside, I’ll search the perimeter” You say

“Stick to the shadows” Soap winks

You make your way outside, creeping around the dark spots of the yard as you slice through the few remaining hostiles, you come across Ghost in the garage, he’s focused on some computer as you approach.

“Thought you went missing”

Your presence surprises him,

“Clear the building?”

“No thanks to you”

“I did my part” He gestures towards the two dead men on the opposite side of the room, “Got what we came for, let’s go”

You meet back up with Soap at the front of the house, making your way to the rendezvous point,

"You better thank your God that Reaper was here to save your ass LT"

"I was fine"

"Not counting the hostiles swarming you" You jump in

Ghost glares at you as the three of you make your way onto the heli for evac. Arriving back at base Ghost is practically silent, sparing you few words during your ride while Soap talks your ear off, there's something off about Ghost but you can't place it, you decide to leave it be.

The base is bustling when you arrive, people running everywhere, your attention being drawn all around until Price shouts for you,

"Reaper, need you on the next car out"

"Just me Sir?"

"Just you, need the best" He nudges your shoulder, you turn to see Ghost standing behind you, fists clenched at his side,

"You've got competition LT" Soap jokes running past you, Ghost walks away without a word, leaving you standing alone.

Your mission was a success, in and out, just you with Price covering from the sky. You managed to clear the building without being detected, sticking to the shadows as you dropped hostiles one by one.

Your muscles ached arriving back, simply wanting to shower and sleep except Soap had forced you invited you to join the team for a drink, figuring it was an easy way to fit into the team you accepted.

The team was already a few drinks down when you arrived, Ghost catching your attention as he sat in the corner, leaned back in his chair.

"There ya are" Soap shouts from across the pub, hollering you over to their table, you sit and he hands you a beer, you feel the cool glass against your warm palm, eyes darting around the room.

"So is there something about the masks that the rest of us don't get?" Soap asked, pointing between you and Ghost, you tilt your head in question,

"No, no correlation"

"Just coincidence?"

"Just coincidence" You nod

"Well just seems that LT's been knocked down a peg since you showed up, no longer the scary lad in a mask compared to you"

You glare to your side, you can see how Ghost's face contorts under his mask, fumes practically coming from his face,

"Ghost is just as good as me"

"Ghost can't do what you can believe me," Soap laughs, taking another sip of his drink

"That'll do Johnny" His voice booms in your ears,

"You think you're better than me Ghost?" You say, suddenly filled with courage, he doesn't afford you a response, he simply stares back at your masked face.

"You do" Your words are cut off by Johnny

"Is it that mask?" He turns to Ghost,

"What?"

"S'that why you're always buggin' Reaper, you like them, some sort of mask kink?"

Your eyes go wide at his words, your chest suddenly feeling tight,

"You like a strong woman LT?" Soap laughs

Ghost's next movements are quick, he stands from the table practically knocking over everyone's drinks before his hands are at Soap's throat, Price jumps to pull him off but it's no use.

"Keep your fuckin mouth closed Sargeant"

Soap sobers up instantly, nodding under Ghost's grip before being released, there are murmurs around the pub as Ghost exits, the air is thick with tension.

The rest of the night was quiet, the men keeping their jokes to themselves out of fear of Ghost somehow hearing. The next day on base was even more awkward, strange tension between the team had unfolded as Ghost barely spoke a word to anyone all day.

A few hours later you make your way to the gym, completely surprised to see the Lieutenant there you eye him as you enter, setting up on the large mat in the centre of the room.

You watch as he moves to stand in front of you, his stare pinning you down,

"Ready?" He asks, you nod before lunging at him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you dig your feet into the mat trying to push him backward.

You grapple for a few minutes, both of you refusing to tap out, intent on proving you are better than the other, you manage to trip him and he falls with his back flat on the mat. Your legs move to straddle over his torso, your arms pinning him down as you cover his form, your heavy breaths filling the air.

"Guess I really am on top" You laugh

Without a second thought, he thrusts his hips, throwing you off him so he can flip your form, pinning you against the mat, you're caged under his form as he pins you flat, there's no chance of getting out. You writhe against his grip but he doesn't falter, simply staring you down,

"Give up?"

"Not a chance" You continue to struggle against his grip,

"You're just gonna tire yourself out"

"Using weight against your opponent is cheating"

"It's smart, you're small but quick, and I'm more than double your size"

"Get off" You huff

"Tap out"

"Admit I'm better than you"

He laughs at your words, releasing his grip before standing, he lets you get up, your hands rubbing at your wrists as you move across the room, you turn around and he's in front of you. He forces you back his strides pushing you back until you collide with the wall, you tilt your head from him, his mouth inches from your ear, you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin.

"You may be better in the field" He pulls back to face you, his dark eyes glued to yours as your body stands still, "But I'm always on top" You can see his smirk under his mask as he leaves, you're frozen in your spot, his words replaying in your head.

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Prayer Factory

Gale x F! Tav (named)

18+ religous trauma, confrontation, disassociation, implied violation, trauma responses, panic, dry heaving, roughness, dom/sub, total control, light humiliation, semi public sex, choking, handjob, face sitting, oral (f!), masturbation (m!)

Aurum steels herself to face her old demons at the temple, with her love at her side. But the adrenaline of confrontation leaves her coiled, and a wizard very eager to take her wrath...

Masterlist

-

"You can do this."

Aurum stared up at the temple, its faceted golden light cascading her in angelic reprieve.

"You know, I wish it was ugly." She squeezed his fingers tightly. "Bloody and decrepit. Somewhere this painful shouldn't look like this."

He agreed, of all of their confronting of demons, this was far too beautiful. Somehow, more sinister in its resplendence.

"I'm right here with you, and I will burn this place down at your command. They've rebuilt once before, they can do it again."

She smiled at him, pulling his nape to bring him into a dizzying kiss. The soft sounds of happy parishioners and the hush of swaying flowers an idyllic backdrop.

Her voice started to slide together. It was always melodic, but now folded into a half song.

"When we get inside..." She hushed against his lips. "Don't leave my side."

"Of course, I'm wi-"

"Gale." Her tone pausing him. "Listen to me. Stay with me."

"I won't leave you." He promised, already tightening his body for a fight.

Aurum took one deep inhale, then, before she could release it, pulled them inside. Spires of the Morning swallowing them entirely.

He thought she would pull up her hood and conceal herself in her instinctual protection. But she threw her cloak down, striding up to the altar in her flowing robe. Baring herself.

The clergy turned and ran to her in shock. Voices raised in alarm, calling for regalia and covers and holy items. Descending on her as devout wolves.

Aurum stood stock still, simultaneously tight and limp to their pulling. Face composed in grace, but eyes glazed over. No longer in her body.

Watching them touch her made his stomach turn. Each piece of regalia they so lovingly slipped onto her felt like they were stripping her naked in front of him. Ripping away pieces of her autonomy one garment at a time.

He wanted to make them stop, but there were too many to pull off of her. Fingers already entangled into her hair, pulling it out of its clip to braid down her back. Bands of fabric tied around her shoulders and across her waist. Headdress affixed to her brow, a molded blindfold taking her eyes away. Every piece tailored to fit her body. To bind her to them.

He felt waves of nausea as she disappeared from him in real time. A priest tried to shoo him away, so blinded by fervor that he couldn't even recognize that they came in together. Or maybe it didn't matter. She was their holy idol, finally returned. Her outside ties were irrelevant.

"I'm her entrusted, her priest. I must stay with her." He urged.

"Oh! Thank you for returning her to us, brother."

"We cannot stay. Her light is drawn elsewhere."

The priest peered at him, confused. A small clench in his jaw.

"But she must stay. You understand, we have been without her guidance for too long. She is a direct conduit."

He truly felt like he was going to harm this man, a rage that rose like a fever up his spine. Speaking through slow and even breaths.

"It is not in our dieties nature to keep light contained. Come now, she has graced your temple again, rejoice in that. Her light must be spread beyond these walls."

The man seemed uncertain, about to retort, when Gale drew forward. Disregarding him to take her hands.

"Such resplendent light must be shone."

Many of the clergy nodded, faces slack in their blind devotion. The priest fell away, his protest lost.

It made him recoil to see their faces. He had never been on the other side. To see the way they looked at her... is this how he looked at his god? At her, on that beach so long ago?

He understood now why she had kept him at a distance for so long.

He twisted his fingers into hers.

I'm sorry.

Her fingers trembled but did not respond. Their shake the only tell in her mask of grace. The slightest flinch as one of the devout pulled away her chest binding. Her light spilling out.

They all gathered around, chattering prayers and joyful exclamation. Pushing their palms onto her chest, clammy and grotesque in their excitement.

He realized what she meant now, when she had urged him at the door.

"Don't leave my side. Stay with me."

Don't let them take me.

He stepped between the hands, presenting his body as a shield. His chest pressed to hers. Feeling the heat of her sunlight. Her eyes blinded to him, but feeling her gaze regardless.

"What is the meaning of this gathering?"

A tall man stepped down from a staircase above them. Staring down with clear authority.

"High Mornmaster! She's returned!" A priest called out. Presenting her as one does a prized relic.

"And you thought it best to adorn her out here in the open?"

"Oh! I..."

"She was bare when she arrived! We had to dress her!"

"Silence, brother."

The priests hung their heads obediently.

"Are you her charge, stranger?" He turned to Gale, eyeing him down his nose.

"I am. She is in my care, body and soul."

"A most holy duty. I commend thee."

It made bile rise to his throat to realize how they spoke around her.

"She has done well to stay her silence. We shall speak at a more private altar. Come."

Gale pantomimed leading her, but it was her step that drew them forward. How long had she spent blinded to know this place in the dark?

He spoke low in her ear as they walked, following the shadow of the high priest.

"You're doing so well. I love you, I'm right here with you. We're going to go home soon, okay?"

She nodded, taking a shuddering breath. The grip on his fingers loosened slightly. Taking up his own squeeze.

It frightened him that she hadn't spoken, but he knew how confronting places like this could unravel. All of the progress you've made pulled out of you in wrenching handfuls. A cruel magic trick.

But he would not allow them the chance to take advantage of her temporarily shattered sense of self. She was not alone. And they would die by his hand before they could take her.

"What fortuitous luck we have been graced with. Our divine light returned to us." The High Morninglord swept behind his desk, sitting back to level his gaze appreciatively at her.

"Though, I have heard whispers of a girl with a holy light in her chest, running the Cliff's Run, of all things." He laughed as if this was the most absurd notion. "The thought, our Resplendent running naked in the streets."

Gale's stomach clenched in disgust. Recognizing the tactics. Setting up a shameful question to put your obstinate charge on the back foot. To make them trip over themselves to prove you wrong.

But she didn't take the bait. Sitting straight, her hands folded gently in her lap. Her face impassive under the half mask.

"It has been far too long since your voice has hallowed these halls. Shall we have your confession, Risen Sun."

It wasn't a question.

A low laugh slipped her at his audacity. Calling her by her true title.

"Confession..." Aurum let out a slow breath, though she made no move to bend her head in prayer. "Maybe it will help."

"Yes, confession is a balm on the soul."

"Should I address Lathander or our Father?"

He paused, clearly taken aback by her brevity. Addressing the cult outright. Gathering his nerve again.

"Whoever speaks to you."

She smiled with a sharp edge.

"Then I'll speak to you."

"I remember what faith felt like. Filling a hollow in me. Ecstatic. Bright. Lifting me above my body. Gods, it makes me shiver to even think of it now."

Her voice was a soft coo of a dove. All the fullness, the lived in, pulled away. Reminding him of how she spoke so long ago. How one speaks to a lamb led to the knife.

"It fulfilled me, and why wouldn't it? It was my purpose. My whole existence had been planned with the sole purpose of channeling the divine. Or, at least, that's what I was told. 'You've been touched by the Gods.' My father would whisper. Leading me in my first steps to the altar. It was all deliberate, my breeding, my upbringing. My young mother dying during childbirth a blip on my history. An obituary not even written. Just a name and a date."

"But I think my genuine channeling was a convenience for my father, at least at first. It's easier to convince the blind masses when your child truly did speak through your god. But there lies the problem."

She leaned forward, boring her concealed gaze into him. Her voice carried on in its haunting song.

"His god spoke to me. Through me. He had thought he had channeled Him, but seeing how He flowed from me like water. I was His true voice. That filled his belly with rot. Envy. And a madman with a pit of rot in his belly... well. You surely remember what happened next?"

The priest's breath held, fear darting his eyes from her.

"Oh, come now. You weren't scared when you held me down. Don't lose your nerve now."

"No, you remember quite well. A little girl named Rosa'sune, with soft adolescent love for another girl and blind faith in her heart, was destroyed on that slab that night. And no amount of her screaming loosened your grip. It was a call from your god, and you sang to it joyously."

"That wasn't what broke my faith. Not the pain, not the shard of sun, not the carving of the tattoo across my face. I had endured wrath before. No, it was that you did it to her too."

"See, I could have believed it was a show of my worth, to be Chosen. Of course, a blessing this great must take a great deal to endure. But Amaris was not part of our sect. She didn't even worship the same god. Yet you carved her, just the same as me. You marked her identical. Now, why would that be?"

"I can hear from the shake of your breath that you have enough sense to be afraid of me. Good. You should be. My father was too, but not until it was far too late. He filled me with such terrible power. And, like all unfit parents, had never fathomed that I could defy him. That I was more than an extension of his will. In forcing that light in me had made his most fatal mistake."

She rose to lean on the desk, palms flat against the wood. Still speaking a soft lullaby.

"He had made me a weapon. His daughter, singing hymns and touching bowed heads with eyes blinded, was now a scythe shaped like a girl. In his hubris, he had made me far more powerful than him, and it was too late to turn back. So he made a failsafe. If I refused him or his god, I would burn."

"Aurum... I had no-"

"Silence. I am not here to soothe your bleating."

She reached forward and tenderly cupped his face.

"Do you remember? How our clergy sung my new holiness? Oh, how beautiful, how lucky, to be Chosen. How wonderful to have a true conduit. Without a single thought of the weight of a sun in her chest. No thought to how strange that her voice was returned to her, yet her breath came so shallow."

She reached up and pulled the blindfold away. Staring deep in his eyes.

"It was my father's will, but your faithful did this to me. I could not hide from His light, and you do not get to hide from what you've done."

Fear shaken tears edged out of his eyes, staring up at her. Mouth fallen open in silent pleading.

She brushed a tear away with her thumb, then reached inside her mouth. Wetting her opposite thumb, she circled a sun into the crest of his forehead. The trail lighting. Holy water.

"I shall let all who dwell in dark feel your holy dawn."

The priest responded almost involuntarily.

"Morninglord, hear my prayer."

She smiled a sad, knowing smile, then pulled away.

"Let's go. We're done here."

Gale rose and took her hand, though she needed no guidance. Leading him out.

As they walked, her pace picked up. Grace falling away as distance covered. Breaking into a frantic stride. Pulling away the regalia that weighed down her body.

They burst out of a hidden side door, a small alley tucked away by the sea. Aurum leaned against the brick, dry heaving.

Gale rushed forward, about to cradle her. But she shoved him away. Surprise taking up both of their faces.

He staggered back, but didn't retreat. Seeing something in her eyes.

She rose up to her full height and shoved him again. His back pushed into brick.

His breath left in a huff, a new kind of lust risen in his belly. Seeing it mirrored in her eyes. She always had a dominant streak, but this felt different. Less teasing, no toying or riling in her stare.

Her hand came to his throat, pressing her body into his. Staring deep in his eyes. Her fingers tightened. Studying him like a tiger hidden in thicket.

The thought of being her prey made his cock throb, breathing hard through her fingers.

She reached inside his robe and cupped him. Eliciting a gasp. Holding him by the throat and by the cock. His life and his manhood in the palm of her hands. Already leaking precum over her fingers. His body begging.

She gathered the slick and tightened her grip, wrenching pleasure from him in tight strokes.

He arched into the wall, eyes rising into lids. Hand gripping her forearm.

She knocked his hand back. Exhaling a fast breath, nearly a growl. Caging him back.

He braced his hands against the wall, the cool brick flat against his palms. His hips fucking up into her. The hand on his throat flexing.

This was a tucked away alley, but they were still in the city. Anyone could wander down the street and see them. See him. The thought that she might not stop in that situation made his belly tighten dangerously. Orgasm threatening shockingly soon.

She felt the throb, his cock hard as stone. Only smiling, her mouth hovering just far enough away to deny him of her. Playing with her food, watching him squirm with a tilt of her head.

That she wasn't speaking made it feel so much more salacious. Breathing hard into the space between them. Eyes wide blown with lust. The lewd sound of her hand and heavy breathing the only sounds exchanged.

The end was soon, he was past the point of no return. Hips fucking into her outside of his control. Biting into his lip, whimpers lost under her grip on his throat. Her total control over him making his pleasure feel primal. Shameful out in the open. About to cum, whether he liked it or not.

She turned his head with her thumb, seeing the tells of his body. Pushing a moan of breath against his ear. Licking a flat line up the curve.

He came in shuddering waves, hands digging into the sharp brick. Hips stuttering as the pleasure coiled in his belly struck him over and over. Out on display for the world to see. Splattering the ground.

She pushed him down by the throat. Forcing him to a sitting kneel, staring up at her. She pulled her robe aside and straddled over his upturned face. Long legs caging him. Taking the crown of his hair into her fist. Grinding her cunt into his mouth.

He gripped both hands into her ass and pulled her into him. Slurping her hard clit into his cupped tongue.

She shuddered above him, fully straddling over his face. Bracing her forearm against the brick wall. Hips pulsing into his fervent licking. Sloppy in his enthusiasm, staring up at her through lidded eyes. Fucked out, moaning into her cunt.

Her using him like this hardened his cock again, reaching between his legs to stroke himself in time to the grind of her hips.

"Good boy." She sighed when he sucked her clit into his mouth. Sending his eyes up into his head. About to cum again.

He released his cock to pull her hard into him, burying his face fully between her legs. Digging his fingertips into the fat of her ass. Slurping and sucking with animal fervor.

She buckled above him, curling her head forward. Shuddering out choked cries. Her hips tremoring from deep in her pelvis.

He slapped her ass, bending her hips to fully latch on to her clit. Wrenching his head from side to side, pulling popping sucks with the hollow of his tongue.

She bit into her forearm above him, her eyes squeezing shut tight. Muffling shrieks into her flesh. Hips shuddering so hard he thought they might give out. Bracing his forearms under her thighs, hands holding her ass up.

Her eyes fully rolled up into her head as she came. Falling forward, scraping her knees against the wall. Shuddering in pulses against his mouth. Her cum flooding into his mouth, lapping it eagerly down his throat. Moaning around swallows. His hand returning to his cock to quickly cum the last of his pleasure.

She fell down into his lap, legs straddled around his thighs. Shaking out breath into his shoulder.

He wound tightly around her, hushing into her ear. Stroking the braids out of her hair. Returning her to him, one caress at a time.

She grasped tightly around him.

"I love you." She moaned, throat raw from pleasure and swelling tears. "I want to go home."

He buried into her shoulder, his own tears threatening.

"I love you so much. Let's go home."

~

[rockingrobin69]

That Fucking Curse

crack, 3333 words, find it on AO3

Harry looked down at his dick.

“Call me Richard,” it said in a low, self-pleased whisper. Harry smacked his head against the wall harder.

“This isn’t real,” he told himself, out loud. His own voice was high and scratchy in his ears. He needed a drink. He needed to lie down and maybe to, er, die, or something.

“I assure you it is, my boy,” said—said—the thing peeking from his trousers, and what, the fuck, was even happening?

“What,” said Harry.

“It is as real as you or I. As real as us both. You can feel me, can you not? In your hand.”

Harry released it as if struck, biting down on a scream. His cock bounced once, and gave him an almost accusatory look, which—what. His cock didn’t have eyes to give any sort of look with. Harry was rather certain it could not in fact give him a look.

But it did, sort of, a withering one, and Harry slumped all the way down to the floor on a sigh. He rubbed his face until it tingled. A curse, he thought, bleakly. He got himself cursed with a talking dick. This was so far out of the usual that it almost seemed plausible.

“Unsatisfactory,” said the thing with the voice. “Harry. You cannot just leave me like this.”

“Leave you,” Harry echoed. His head felt oddly light.

“Do not!” with a tinge of urgency. “It is in poor grace to keep a man hanging.”

Harry made a sound, high in his throat. Not quite laughter. “A man,” he said. “You are not a man. You’re a cock. You’re a talking, whining cock who’s talking to me and making absolutely no sense. And you’re attached to me. By flesh. And you are talking. And you are a cock.”

“I have a name, you know,” huffed the talking cock, and Harry—lost it. Chuckling helplessly into his palm:

“A name!” he nearly yelled, hoarse, “you have a name!”

Another bounce made him gasp. “Yes. It is Richard, as you well know. Take good note of it, Harry. Sooner or later you will do as I tell you, and it had better be sooner, or we will both be quite unhappy.”

The chuckling became raging laughter, reedy. “Bossy,” he whispered to no one in particular. “My cock is so bossy.”

“Your cock,” said his cock, “is Richard, and he is chagrined, seeing as you refuse to heed—”

“My cock,” Harry said, louder. He was heaving for breath. Could not get it to fit inside his flailing lungs.

A moment or longer passed like that, the only reminders that Harry was still alive in his squirming belly, in his hiccoughing chest, in his hard, aching cock. Richard was hard. The thought alone sent him deeper into hysterics.

“Will you—” when Harry was wailing, “—just, listen! I am sick and tired of the neglect. You have to let me find release. You must, or else we go mad. I can help you. I can make it so good for you. Harry, let me.”

“Mad.” The whole thing was… he sighed. “Go mad.”

“Yes!”

“You mean, madder than my cock talking to me.”

“Yes.”

“Madder than my cock deciding its name is Richard.”

“Quite so.”

“Madder,” Harry’s voice rose, “than it demanding I bring it off. In clearly enunciated words.”

“Yes, yes, yes! Much madder than that! Would you have me beg? Is that what you want, you monster?”

Harry’s belly was in stitches. He could hardly even gasp. “Now I’m a monster,” he rasped, wiping his eyes. “Because I refuse to let Richard come.”

“I know your type,” Richard was saying, seething, probably giving him another one of those looks, Harry couldn’t tell, wasn’t watching. “You’d have me in a cage night and day. You would lock me, and throw away the key, and give me no relief. You would toy with me until I am panting, desperately untethered, on the precipice, and just as I reach the edge, you would snatch it away from me, leaving me helpless, inflamed, raging. Is that what you like, Harry? Is that how you would treat old Richard?”

Gooseflesh rippled up his arms, down the back of his neck, and then the last words hit. “Old,” he said, “o-old… Richard…” truly, helpless, dissolving into mindless laughter, descending into true madness. This, he decided, was the cruellest curse he’d ever encountered, and the most hilarious thing he’d experienced, and he hated and adored whoever did this to him. George, he expected. Or maybe Malfoy. He was always happy to play a trick or two on him, the bastard.

“Oh,” said a voice, a—right, said Richard. “What was that you were thinking about? Go back. It felt good.”

Panic cramped in his gut strangely like laughter.

Read the rest on AO3!