#i feel like u have more freedom that way too right

[smoosnoom]

fighting the urge to become one of those ao3 writers who exclusively only post under anonymous

[strangersynth]

bc you have things to say doesn't always mean you needa say them let alone it also doesn't always mean it's your place to say them kwim

[rowarn]

afab!reader, keegan fucking up into you, creampie <3

for the anon who wanted keegan content after PLM 🫡 i didn't forget about u

there was something you absolutely loved about being pressed against keegan. When he was laid back against the bed, you in his lap, his strong arms wrapped around you and pinning your chest against his. 

you were already drooling against his bare shoulder from the way he was slowly rutting his hips up, his feet braced against the bed so he could get the most leverage. his blunt nails bite into your skin but you hardly even notice the burning sensation. 

“fuck,” he finally speaks, that deep, raspy voice sending heat straight to your core, “needed this. needed you all fuckin’ day.”

“kee…” you can’t help but whimper, lashes fluttering when the tip of his cock hits a particularly sensitive spot inside. 

you don’t have the room or movement freedom to look between your bodies to see the mess you’re making all over him but you can feel it. you can feel the slick slide of your thighs against his hips and you can hear the gooey, sticky noises that your pussy makes when he slides inside you. 

your clit rubbed against the firm plane of his stomach every time his hips met your ass. you were jostled, easily rocked to his rhythm and you loved every second of it. 

“so sweet,” he coos, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “bein’ so good for me.”

you keen under his praise, heat flushing to your cheeks when you involuntarily clench down around him. you know he feels it too, in the way he grunts and chuckles under his breath.

he adjusts his grip on you and you barely even have time to prepare yourself before he fucks up into you hard. 

you yelp when the tip of his cock knocks against your cervix. it hurts but it’s not anything new – keegan’s got a nice, long cock and you’ve come to enjoy that sweet pang of pain. 

he shushes you softly when you cry out but he doesn’t hold back. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room and underneath your cries of pleasure you can hear the wet sound of your cunt swallowing every inch of his cock. 

the sounds he makes are quiet, easily missed under the volume of your own cries but you hear them nonetheless. and they’re lovely. keegan isn’t very vocal so you soak up any little sounds he supplies you. you’ve dreamt of pinning him down and riding him until he has no choice but tho cry out and moan for you. but you know that’s just a pipe dream because keegan is always in charge and has more self control than you think one could ever have. 

it just made the sounds he gave you all the more precious.

another thing about keegan was his unbelievable stamina. even supporting your weight, doing all the work to fuck his pretty cock up into your sweet little cunt, he wasn’t even out of breath. you were a mess – panting, moaning, drooling, and crying from how well he fucked you. every thrust was well-aimed to that gooey little spot deep inside you that only keegan was able to reach. 

pleasure fogged your brain, with your pussy stuffed nice and full, getting fucked just right and your clit grinding against him with every movement, you couldn’t even think properly beyond him. his name fell from your lips like a mantra, music to his ears. 

“g-gonna cum,” you manage to babble out between pleasured huffs. 

“i know,” he grunts, hand cupping the back of your neck in a firm grip, to keep you pinned against him. he loved the feeling of you drooling all over him, fucked nice and dumb all for him. he knew your body like the back of his hand, recognized the sweet breaks in your voice, the tight, wet clutching of your cunt, and the way your pretty body trembled and twitched in his hold. 

“keegan!” you cry, raking your nails down his skin as your feet kick up and slam back down to the bed, the stimulation becoming too much the higher you’re pushed to your orgasm. 

“yeah, baby,” he grunts from effort as he fucks you deeper and harder, working to get you over that edge, “i’m right here, babydoll. go ahead and cum for me, fuck.”

and you do. 

clutching at him and crying out in pure pleasure as you cream a sweet little mess around his cock. he imagines pulling out and seeing your cum covering his cock, imagines making you get on your knees and clean him up as thank you for fucking you so well. the image makes him moan, his own eyes rolling back in his head. his cock twitches and throbs in the heat of your twitching pussy and before you even come down, he’s filling you with his load. 

getting to creampie you is a  nice little reward for working hard all day and coming home to you <3

[acid-ixx]

to you, my greatest passion (soft yandere! batfam x traumatized! reader oneshot)

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: allusions to stockholm syndrome, flawed relationship (they have no concept of boundaries) and mild descriptions of injuries and torture (not by the batfam). read until the end for an author's note. happy 4k followers to me :)) uh leave comments if u like this type of analysis and want to see more. i had no direction for writing this. please don't let this flop huhu i might delete this since i don't like it

as much as i love my angst, we all need something soft at times, and moments with yan!batfam with a reader who is absolutely fucking broken from their past that the mere implication that someone could love them is enough to let them melt into whoever's chest they lay upon that night.

just, hurt/comfort. one that heals the soul in its overly possessive embrace. the same way chapped lips peck softly on your cheeks, muscled arms caress your fragile, shivering body, and legs tangle upon yours in a cacophony of warm, cozy blankets.

where as the longer time passes in the manor, the more you learn to love. to let go of the painful memories your tormenters left you. to allow past scars to heal into a mere visage of what once was streaks coated in blood. your family acts as your new abductors, yes, but how could you hold your freedom against them when it is them that comfort you from drowning through the deepest depths of your nightmares?

nightmares of the past, of the knives that break through your already gashed skin, or the ropes that burn through bruises and laceration— every time you wake up crying, with tears running down your cheeks and a pained cry; a recollection of the torture you were subject to, it is them that come running to your room not a moment after.

it's bruce's tall, domineering form that crumbles into soft, snug pillows for you. your father arms that punches criminals into prison become the shoulder you lean on. calloused fingers rub your cheeks, wiping away your tears, holding your face in his palms like you're the most fragile thing on earth— and you are. every time he looks at your dampened eyes and sniffling nose, he gets reminded of how lonely he was as a child, who lost his parent too young to the cruelty of the world, of gotham and her unyielding coldness. and when he reminisces, he begins to cage you in his arms a tad bit tighter, begins to comfort you longer and softer than he has ever done with anyone else, as if he is reassuring himself. it is with you that his vulnerability, that fear of loss becomes all too stronger. and every time you cry a bit longer, your hold on his sleeves becoming unyielding, does bruce become crueler in his pursuit of fighting crime, a lesson to himself that the people he punishes are those with hands capable enough to harm you, his precious, his pearl that glints throughout the moonlight.

whenever your father is unavailable, it's dick who runs to you, with all the intention to provide you comfort. it's him who calls you his baby bird, as he reassures you that you're no burden in his eyes every time you scream in terror as your sleep. it's him who loves to drown you in his affection, always near, always close, never far and never too much. physically, he's the most doting to a fault. tender, yet tight were his hugs. his kisses to your cheeks and your forehead always linger, as if hesitant to release itself from its rightful place. it's a testiment to how much he loves you, how he's incapable of separating himself from you. god, he loves you so much he wishes he'd just melt right into your skin, so that you actually finally realize how you're the most important thing in the world to him. you, his baby bird. if he had met you sooner, quite earlier, right after his parent's have died, then maybe he could've managed his anger better, could've learned to cope with you through the battles you both fought. it's with you that dick feel unbearably euphoric, ready to spill his love to the point where tears consume his eyes and his head laid on your chest refuses to detach itself.

jason isn't familiar with what warmth feels like, not anymore. but when he sees your hapless state, he sees a reflection of himself in that abandoned warehouse. broken, defiled, hurt. with nothing to comfort you from the cold other than the ropes that burn through your skin and the adrenaline that runs through your veins. he forgots what solace feels like, what it means, but through your shared trauma does jason learn. he learns to talk to you, with you, learns to pinpoint each and every emotion he felt at the time, what you felt inside that putrid basement. he learns to manage his grief because he doesn't want to anger himself looking at you, at just how much justice can only serve so many. the longer you talk to jason, the more he becomes softer, yet hungrier. he learns how to hold you in a way a brother learns to hold his baby sibling for the first time when conceived. he relearns the warmth he felt, like when he was finally able to be good enough to be the successor to the title of robin, when he felt you drool on his chest when you trusted him enough to sleep in his room. yet this time that feeling was accompanied with that ominous, distracting essence. one that makes jason's knuckles crack and have him prepare his guns, as he discovers that you can never truly erase the past. and even though it might take years for him to be your ideal brother, he could at least be your sole protector.

then there's tim, who never truly had the opportunity to develop that deeper sense of love he wanted to feel until he was officially adopted into the wayne family right after his parents' death. don't get him wrong, he loves his mom and dad, and so does he loves his current family— but it's obsession that drives him nonetheless. the need to prove himself, to gather information about everyone to know who they truly are; beyond that there's nothing more than shallowness, a neverending hole he can't satisfy. but with you? oh god, you. to tim, you're his everything. you devour his being whole. with you, there's always something new. the need to track every single thing about you leads him into this cycle of want and need that coagulates into desire, into drive. every time you smile, or laugh, or frown, he gains newer intel about you, one he loops into the deepest crevices of his brain at a constant, you are his constant. but staying right behind you can only do so much. and as he sits right beside you in bed, awkwardly comforting you through the ways he mirrored off from his brothers: a sloppy kiss to your knuckles, a joke cracked here and there, and wiping your eyes and nose with his sleeves; tim learns that stalking can only do so much. he learns what it feels like to be needed for emotional connection and nothing else and that only further motivates him to be perfect for you, and to be with you, his sibling, more often than to simply live right under your nose.

and damian, your baby brother, who's unsurprisingly the one who sleeps in your room, or has you sleep in his room, the most. damian tells himself he's incapable of love, of showing it or reciprocating it. but for you, he tries, and like jason, he learns. he discovers just how depraved both of you are when it comes to love. it enlightens you both and it makes damian feel a deeper sense of connection with you than anyone else. with you, he feels like a child: vulnerable, yet uncaring and free, like the true meaning of being a robin, one the soars through the skies with no grandfather or mother or league to watch your every step as their successor. all the times you cry, he silently sobs with you, holding your cheeks down to his level with scarred palms. silent, yet comforting, he'd allow his smaller form to simply become your teddy bear whilst he whispers consolations. about how strong his older sibling is, how precious you are for being comfortable with him to speak of your problems, how you're everything to damian just as he wishes to be the world for you. it makes you think you're more immature that him, it makes him grateful that he has you. even though he doesn't say it, he shows through actions just how truly important you are whenever he draws a sword towards his enemies, thinking about you and his unsaid promises.

nights where you're reminded of that solitary confinement, of the darkness that creeps into your vision and the voices that pierce through your ears. nights where you feel you've exhausted yourself of hope, where what was once warmth that hugs your heart is now that frigid, yet burning spikes that penetrates into the confidence that you'll somehow, someday, run away from that hellhole— those were nights you thought you'd never live with proper sleep. but as one or two of them holds you in their embrace whenever your nightmares consume your being, you're slowly allowing your established walls to fall apart, all for the mere implication of their love.

who would save you, if not for them? their hushed whispers of consolation, hands that wrap around your figure, and fingers that knead your cheeks provide you that deep sated comfort you always wanted. the sleeves they use to wipe away both saltine liquid and snot, to slowly silence your blubbering rambles, your inconsolable crying; it's warmer than the basement you used to be locked in as a child, with dripping faucets the only source of your water— they saved you once before, who's to say they won't save you a thousand times more?

every time you feel like crying, every time that familiar faulty tap in your eyes begins to dampen against ashen skin, it's them that asks you if you're alright. even if you grit your teeth, even if you seeth or bite or beat or punch or kick, to punish yourself, to cope through the trauma, to not feel nothing.

every time pain begins to sear through your skin, it's your grandfather, father, brothers and sisters that huddle around you and tell you 'you're safe here, in the manor, with us'.

every time they spend hours, ditching patrol nights, cooking your comfort food, reading your favorite books, watching movies for hours, ignoring your assigned sleep schedule, kissing your scarred hands gently, reverently, cuddling your form against their strong ones as a silent promise that with them, there's nothing to harm you no more— you'd feel lighter every time, a tad happier, even. slowly, but surely, melting against the confines of your adorned cage and the embrace of your loving captors.

every time they help you heal, it makes you forgive, and it makes you forget their prior kidnapping in return of building new memories with them, in a safer haven, with nobody to hurt you any longer, with nobody to bash your head against concrete walls, to punish you. you who is underserving of the circumstances bought upon you back then.

safe, a word you thought you'll never feel, a word you didn't even know existed in the crevices of your heart. but it is with them that you slowly start to associate safe with family.

the family that you've come to love and cherish in your own imperfect ways, the same way a stray dog becomes too loyal to a passerby when given bones for leftovers every day.

but you're not an animal, and you're not a pavlovian dog meant to be conditioned. no, you're their baby, their love, their treasure and their only one. the love they feed you exceeds beyond leftovers. only you can devour them wholly, the same way they cloak your world in the love that fills that neverending pit in your heart.

you're not biologically related to any of them in any way, too. yet it was all a matter of coincidence that they stumbled upon you.

but really, past is past.

then is then.

now it's just you and them.

it's you, with them.

just your family. overbearing, overprotective, overpowering.

but nothing is always over to you. their love isn't too much. how could you tell yourself it's too much? not when you were never given a basis of what is too much. how is one too much when you were never even given enough?

trust is built upon a foundation of connecting with others who can relate with you one way or another, who can see past through your flaws and mistakes— it's a bond that precedes mere acquaintanceship.

you might've met them later than everyone else, but it's you that completes them.

you're the puzzle that completes the family photographs, the goal for bruce to continue his legacy as batman and to ward off all evil, the inspiration for dick to be that aspiring hero everyone sees him to be, the reason jason begins to reform himself for your sake, the purpose for tim's endless pursuit of knowledge, the muse for damian's painting, the subject for his love he thought was no more, the ambition for steph's prolongation despite her countless of failures, the motivation for barbara to seek out all the criminals who have harmed you, the influence for cass to be stronger to protect you, the catalyst for duke to use his metahuman abilities for good, to take out those who walk in broad daylight, as if they weren't involved in your past tortures.

you're everything that they are.

their sunshine and moonlight, their companionship and loneliness, their pain and pleasure, their yin and yan.

their greatest passion.

a/n: hii guys erm. this is so sudden and also counts as a rant but yk... i feel like quitting this blog but at the same time not. it's just, i feel like writing has been more of an obligation than anything else. it doesn't help the fact that i've only been getting interaction if i were to actually produce something good. beyond that, it feels like people are expecting more of me. i get it, updates are sporadic, they appear in the blink of an eye when you least expect it, but at the same time it's just hard juggling what i want to write and what i feel like i need to write. this blog was primarily to post about my thoughts and to talk to people but lately, every time i open this app to write, i feel these plethora of thoughts and expectations telling me that if i don't do well enough then people would merely ignore whatever i post or it's just bad by standards. and yes i'm grateful for all the people supporting my writing, but at the same time i'm lead to a cycle of me losing my motivation to continue writing. ugh idk what im doing anymore help :((

tl;dr: will i stop writing? no, but at the same time i don't know. someday, i may deactivate this account out of impulse if i feel too much, or not. it depends hehe.

[starkeysprincess]

kissing u for giving me this idea cause I love frat daddy as stepbro!rafe! what if reader is 18 but in her last year of high school (I know even with age of majority that’s still kinda icky but it’s the only way this scenario would work🫣) so when rafe’s away for his first year at college before the events of s1, she knows it’s wrong but she’s always worried and jealous of what he could be doing there or what other girls he could be seeing, especially when she sees his and his frat brothers’ instagram pictures. he doesn’t always get back to her texts or calls, and even though she has needs too, she feels guilty for hooking up with any of her friends or trying to date to distract herself. so when he comes home for the holidays, she’s all mad at him and pushes him away and they get all angsty and he apologizes because you were always willing to wait for him and his approval and with him being as nasty as he is he has to remind you that you come first because “you’re my sister”🫠✨

— stepbro!rafe is away for his first year at college

warnings: stepcest, reader is 18 + rafe is 19, indent is a flashback, jealous!reader, mention of hooking up w jj, choking, hair pulling, spanking, mirror sex, degrading, praise, gagging, piv, unprotected sex, creampie, 18+ mdni !

a/n: i hope it's ok that i tweaked a few things such as rafe apologizing & reader graduated high school but doesn’t go to college cause she isn't sure what she wants to do!

“gonna miss you,” you frown into your stepbrother’s chest, hugging him tightly. he rested his chin on the top of your head, “i’ll miss you too, but hey, i’ll be home for the holidays, and i’m only a phone call away. you could call me or text me anytime, i’ll make sure to get back to you when i can, alright?”.

when rafe left for college, he responded to you when he could, just like he said he would. talking to him nearly every day almost made it feel like he wasn’t hours away from home. however, a month passed, and you started to hear less from him until your calls and texts were unanswered. at first, you assumed you weren’t hearing from him because of how busy he may have been with classes, and it wasn’t until you came across instagram posts from him and his fraternity brothers that he was too busy partying to get back to you.

it was his first year at college, and you knew you shouldn’t be upset; you had no right to be. especially when it was the only time he had freedom away from home, specifically from ward. it didn't stop you from missing rafe; you couldn’t help but think about what else he could be doing, and no matter how much you tried, knowing it was wrong, your mind started to wander over who he could be with.

when two more months had passed and still no communication from rafe, you sought out a distraction through jj maybank, who was unknowingly helping you take your mind off your stepbrother. the more time you had spent with jj, the less you thought about rafe and the promise of not running to anyone that wasn't him.

the promise you made was pushed into the back of your mind until one night, as you were about to sneak out of the house to see the blonde pogue, you received an incoming call from rafe. you could feel the guilt consuming you the longer you stared at his name, itching to answer. but your bitterness got the best of you, your finger tapping 'decline' before quietly leaving your house, not knowing rafe was calling to tell you he'd be home for the holiday.

a week later and yet another late night with jj, you tip-toed up the stairs, ensuring not to wake anyone up. just as you were about to reach your bedroom, you froze in your spot, looking like a deer in headlights, when the door to the room across from yours swung open. "sneaking back in?", his hand encircled your wrist, pulling you into his room and shutting the door behind you. “rafe, what are you doing here?” your brows furrow, more than confused as to why he was home.

“missed you, princess," his hands slid up your waist, walking you back until your lower back pressed against his dresser, "if you had answered when i called, you would’ve known i was coming home for the holidays.”.

your palms pressed at his firm chest, pushing him away when he started peppering kisses along your jaw. "what? what's wrong?" rafe asks, "don’t tell me you’re upset cause i made you promise not to go to anyone else while i was away on campus.”.

“i can't be upset over that when i’ve been seeing jj,” the words rolled off your tongue with ease, “i don't know why it matters anyway when you've been ignoring me for the past few months, probably too busy sleeping around with sorority girls every weekend”.

rafe’s nostrils flared the second jj's name slipped from your mouth, “what did you just say?” he gritted his teeth, removing his hand from your waist to grab your throat. “what?” you bat your eyes innocently, “don't act all innocent, you've been fucking around with maybank, huh?”.

"what happened to being my good girl? guess your poor, needy little pussy couldn't handle being empty for a few months, hm?" rafe snickered, "and now you wanna push me away all 'cause i've been too busy?".

your mouth gaped open to speak, only for him to cut you off, "is that why you're pushing me away, acting like you didn't miss me and your panties aren't soaking wet right now? ".

rafe spun you around to face the mirror of his dresser, bending you over. his large, warm hands slip under your skirt, pushing the article of clothing around your waist. his fingers hooked into the elastic of your panties, pulling them down to pool around your ankles. "step out of them," he ordered, delivering a sharp smack to the fat of your ass; when you didn't oblige, "don't make me tell you twice.".

rafe bent down, grabbing your panties before standing back up. his hand reached around, cupping your jaw, your lips parting when his fingers dug into your skin as he squeezed your cheeks. rafe shoved the silk material into your mouth and his lips brush against the shell of your ear, "you want an apology? fine, here's your apology.".

his free hand dipped between your legs, chuckling as he ran his fingers through your slick folds. “i’m sorry, princess…” he cooed, extending his thumb to rub circles to your clit, pulling a soft moan from you.

a desperate whine bubbled in your throat at the loss of friction on your puffy clit, your heart racing in anticipation at the sound of fabric rustling behind you. rafe nudged your thighs further apart with his knee, slotting himself between your legs. his palm rested on the small of your back as you squirmed under him, feeling the thick head of his cock sliding up and down your folds.

he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back to make you look at him in the reflection, watching your eyes roll back as his thick cock stretches you deliciously, “sorry that my poor girl was so fuckin’ needy to the point she had to run to a pogue of all people.”.

“shit…missed being buried deep in this sweet cunt,” rafe groaned, "guess i gotta ruin this tight little hole; make sure you don't go runnin' back to jj, huh?" he taunted, slowly pulling back, leaving just the tip of his cock inside you.

"don't worry, by the time i'm done with you, all that pretty little head and pussy is gonna think about is how much she missed and ached for my dick," rafe sucked his teeth, your body jolting forward, biting down on the pair of panties stuffed in your mouth as he slammed himself back into your willing cunt.

your hands grip the top of his dresser, eyes barely staying open. a loud, muffled yelp forces its way through the flimsy silk fabric stuffed in your mouth when rafe harshly tugged at the roots of your hair, "did i say you could close your eyes? keep 'em open, want you to watch me fuck you like the needy little cockwhore you are.".

rafe removed his hand from your hair, snaking it around your throat to hold your head upright. he buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave bruises on your flesh. he leaned forward, putting all his weight onto you and pressing his chest to your back, "this s'all you wanted, yeah? just wanted to be stuffed full of my cock again?".

drool soaked through the silk as his cock pounded into you relentlessly. you grabbed onto his arm, struggling to keep your eyes open, and your nails bite into his skin as the tip of his cock repeatedly hits your cervix. rafe’s eyes flicker to look at the two of you in the mirror, “look at how pretty you look takin’ my dick,” he praises.

“came way too many fuckin’ times to the thought of you…been craving feeling your pussy around my cock again since the day i left,” rafe rasped. “especially feeling you cum all over my cock,” he groaned as he felt your walls flutter around him.

“c’mon, princess, cream all over my cock and make a mess like you used to,” he nipped your ear, holding you steady as your legs trembled. your pussy convulses around him, his hand clamping around your mouth to further muffle your cry of pleasure as you cum all over his thick cock.

your orgasm triggers rafe’s, his hips slowly pumping into yours as they become sloppy. he gives you one more harsh thrust, his hips stilling, pushing his cock deep inside you, and letting out a moan as thick ropes of cum spill into you, painting your walls white.

rafe removes your panties from your mouth, your chest heaving, small pants filling the room. your breath hitches in your throat when his hips slowly rolled into yours, “how’s that for an apology? or you still need some convincing?”.

taglist: @oceandriveab @babygorewhore @cameronsprincess @starkeysbabygirl @bloodibambiidoll @fallbhind @nemesyaaa @sematarygirls @ilovefiction4lmen @zyafics @sturnioloshacker @heartsforvin @cxrrodedcoffin @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafesthroatbaby @jjslaybank @kisses4angels @littlelamy @rafesangelita @starkeygirlposts @drewsarms @hallecarey1 @fallrafwe @sturnskiss @blckbrrybasket @wearemadeofstardust0 @honeybunniesoobin @starkeysbebe @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @starkeysheart @rafeinterlude @starkeyisthelastname @flvredcas @emilysuperswag @proxy-princess @hyperfixationgirl @ijustwanttoreadlols @slumnit @cl4uus @coco-cinnamon @stoned-writer

[goldfades]

FLIPPED──RAFE CAMERON

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

for this request, for my baby jojo! @wanderlusturous

─ summary | rafe is completely devoted to his pregnant wife, spoiling her endlessly and preparing for the arrival of their baby girl, who becomes the center of his world. after a life of feeling lost and disconnected, rafe finally finds purpose in his new family, vowing to protect and love them unconditionally.

─ pairing | rafe cameron x wife!reader

─ warnings | such a sweet, domestic bliss fic! rafe spoiling tf outta reader, rafe being a girl dad, mentions of toxic family, but other than that it's just so sweet.

─ ev's notes | the chokehold that gif has on me is... insane. also wheezie needs to be included more in fics like... shes so awesome (ik she hasnt done anything but thats kinda the point) ALSOOOO I NEED MORE DOMESTIC RAFE LIKEEEE, PLS SEND ME REQUESTS. i might do a part 2 for this fic cause it's so heartwarming i cannot

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

You’re lounging on the couch, wrapped in the softest cashmere blanket Rafe could find, a far cry from the one you had before. That one had been comfortable too, but Rafe never thought it was enough for you, not when his princess deserved the best. The soft hum of the air conditioner fills the house, the only sound in the otherwise still afternoon, while your fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on your growing belly.

Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the room, and you sink further into the cushions, feeling the quiet luxury that has come to define your life since you met Rafe. He’s out right now, picking up God knows what — probably more baby things, even though you already have a mountain of stuff piled high in the nursery.

He never does anything halfway. Every stroller, every onesie, every diaper cream has to be top-of-the-line, the best that money can buy. He doesn’t just spoil you, he suffocates you with care, but in the softest, sweetest way possible, so you don’t even mind. No, you love it, revel in it, feeling like you’ve been plucked straight out of one life and placed into another, where all you have to do is exist and be adored.

The front door clicks open, and you can feel his presence before you even see him. He’s always like that, larger than life even when he’s trying to be quiet. You sit up a little, trying to hide the way you’ve been lazily sprawled out, but he’s already at your side, his hands gently urging you back down.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your forehead. His eyes flicker to your belly, then back to you, that familiar mixture of awe and protectiveness gleaming in his gaze. "I've got everything handled. You just need to rest."

You open your mouth to protest, to tell him that you could've gotten up, could’ve helped him with the bags, but he’s already shaking his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if he can read your thoughts before you even say a word.

"Not a chance." He sets the bags down, filled to the brim with things you know you'll never touch, because he’ll do everything for you. “You’re not lifting a finger. Not while I’m around.”

His voice, low and firm, sends a shiver down your spine, the kind of reassurance that only Rafe can offer. He crouches down beside the couch, running his hands over your legs, making sure you’re comfortable—like he always does. His touch is possessive, protective, the kind that says without words, you’re mine to take care of.

You let out a soft sigh, sinking back against the plush cushions as his hand glides up to rest gently on your belly, almost like a reflex now. You’ve noticed that since you started showing, his hands always find their way there. Like he has to be close, to make sure everything’s okay. He’s obsessed, really—your safety, your comfort, your every need. It’s like a switch flipped the moment he found out about the baby, and he hasn’t let you out of his sight since.

“Everything’s fine, Rafe,” you say softly, trying to reassure him, but the way his brow furrows ever so slightly tells you he doesn’t quite believe you. He’s always worrying.

“I know,” he replies, but there’s a tension in his voice, the kind that tells you he’s already thinking five steps ahead—about the doctor’s appointments, the vitamins, the nursery. He leans in, kissing the top of your head as his other hand gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “But you’re carrying our baby. I’m not taking any chances.”

You smile at his overprotectiveness. It used to overwhelm you at first, this all-consuming devotion, but now? Now it’s like second nature, the way he hovers, always making sure you’re not doing too much, that you’re not straining yourself. He’s like a human safety net, never more than a few feet away, always anticipating what you might need before you even know it yourself.

He stands and starts unpacking the bags he brought in—high-end baby gear, of course. Another designer bassinet, this one with extra features that make it look more like a spaceship than something an infant should sleep in. You watch him move around the room with purpose, his movements fluid and sure, as if orchestrating a plan only he’s privy to. He barely spares you a glance, but you know he’s hyper-aware of your presence, always keeping you in his peripheral vision.

“You didn’t have to get all this,” you murmur, though you already know the answer. You say it more out of habit now, like you need to put up some token resistance to the endless stream of gifts and gadgets.

“I know, but I wanted to,” he says without looking up, his tone casual, but you can hear the edge of finality in it. It’s the same way he talks about everything when it comes to you—like there’s no room for negotiation. “Only the best for you and the baby. You deserve it.”

He sets down the bassinet and moves back to you, taking a seat on the edge of the couch, his hand immediately finding yours. He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, and you lean into him, letting yourself relax in the comfort of his presence. For all his intensity, there’s something so soothing about him when he’s like this—calm, focused, entirely devoted to making sure you’re taken care of.

“Rafe, really… I don’t need all this. I just—” You hesitate, biting your lip. You want to say that all you really need is him, that he’s already more than enough. But before you can finish, his lips brush against your temple, silencing your thoughts.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got everything.” His voice is gentle, but there’s an unshakable confidence behind it, the kind that makes you believe, even for a moment, that the world outside doesn’t exist. That as long as you’re in his orbit, nothing can touch you.

You glance over at the bassinet, the sleek, modern design standing out starkly against the warmth of the room. It’s absurd, really, how much Rafe is willing to spend, how nothing seems too extravagant when it comes to you. But that’s just him—lavish, obsessive, determined to give you a life where you never have to want for anything. And despite how overwhelming it can be sometimes, you can’t deny how intoxicating it is to be the center of someone’s universe like this.

“You think you’ll ever let me out of this house again?” you tease, half-joking, half-serious. He hasn’t exactly been keen on you going anywhere without him lately. Even the grocery store is off-limits unless he’s there to push the cart and carry the bags.

Rafe chuckles softly, but there’s a protective gleam in his eye. “Not until the baby’s here. And even then, only if I’m with you.” He’s only half-joking, and you both know it. The idea of you out in the world, vulnerable, without him by your side—it’s something he can’t stand.

You roll your eyes playfully, but the warmth that spreads through your chest is undeniable. It’s not like you want to go anywhere without him. Not really. The truth is, you’ve gotten used to this, the way he dotes on you, the way he watches over you like you’re the most precious thing in his life. It’s addictive, being adored like this.

“Fine, fine,” you say with a mock sigh of defeat, settling back against the pillows. “I guess I’ll just have to get used to being spoiled.”

Rafe’s smile widens, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “Good,” he says, leaning down to kiss you again, slower this time, lingering. “Cause that’s not changing anytime soon.”

───

The moment he found he was having a girl, his world flipped upside down in the best way possible. The baby shower was small and private, only inviting your close friends and family. And for Rafe, he only invited Wheezie. He doesn't really have family or friends he'd want to be around—he only needs you, really.

Rafe never really had a family, not until he met you. Sarah was... well, Sarah. She used to be a part of his life, but they were worlds apart now, and Rafe had long since stopped trying to bridge the gap between them. She had her own life, her own people, and it didn’t overlap with his anymore. Rafe had always felt like an outsider in his own family, never really fitting in, never living up to what was expected of him. His father was distant, his mother gone, and his siblings—well, they weren’t exactly close.

But you? You were different. From the moment he met you, something shifted. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had something solid, something real. You gave him a reason to try, a reason to build something better than what he grew up with. He didn’t just want a family—he wanted your family. One that wasn’t broken or full of secrets and betrayals, but one where he could be the man he’d always hoped to be.

The moment he found out you were having a girl, everything inside him shifted. He wasn’t just Rafe Cameron anymore. He was going to be a father—a girl dad. The idea scared him at first, the weight of it hitting him harder than anything ever had. He wanted to be perfect for her, for both of you. He wanted to give his daughter everything he never had growing up: stability, love, safety. Things he never knew he craved until now.

The baby shower was intimate, just the way you liked it. Soft pastels draped the room, and delicate decorations hung from the ceiling, a far cry from the over-the-top events Kooks were known for. But that wasn’t you. And that’s why Rafe loved you. You made everything feel simple, real, stripping away the excess that had always suffocated him growing up.

Wheezie was there, of course, quiet and awkward as ever, but Rafe didn’t care. She was the only family he had left that mattered, the only one who hadn’t looked at him like he was too far gone, beyond saving. She wasn’t like Sarah, who had washed her hands of him long ago, or Ward, who saw him as nothing more than a disappointment.

As you sat in the corner, surrounded by a small group of friends, Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were glowing—literally glowing, your skin radiant, your hands instinctively resting on your belly. You were laughing at something Wheezie said, but all he could think about was how surreal this all was. How he’d gotten here. From the chaos of his old life to this—a quiet, perfect moment.

Rafe didn’t need anyone else, not really. His friends? They were more like shadows of a life he’d left behind. Toxic, empty relationships that had never filled the void. But with you? He felt whole. He didn’t need the Outer Banks, the parties, the fake smiles and empty promises. All he needed was sitting right in front of him—his future, his family.

You caught his eye from across the room and smiled, and just like that, the world shrank down to just the two of you. It always did. Everything else faded away when you were around. He crossed the room, ignoring the small talk and the laughter, his focus entirely on you.

“Hey, princess,” he murmured, kneeling beside your chair, one hand instantly finding your belly like it always did. He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before leaning his head against it, closing his eyes for just a second to ground himself in the moment. “You good? Need anything?”

You shook your head, resting your hand on top of his. “I’m fine, Rafe. You don’t need to keep checking on me every five minutes.”

He huffed out a laugh, but there was no humor in it, just a soft kind of affection. “Can’t help it,” he said quietly, opening his eyes to look up at you. “I’ve gotta make sure my girls are okay.”

Your heart melted at that, at the way his entire face softened whenever he talked about you and the baby. Rafe Cameron—the guy everyone thought was a lost cause, a wreck waiting to happen—was now the most devoted man you’d ever met. He wasn’t perfect, far from it. But he tried—tried so damn hard for you.

“Everything’s perfect,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand. “And you’re spoiling me too much. Again.”

A mischievous grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Not possible. I’ll spoil you both for the rest of my life if I have to.”

You laughed, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. “You already are.”

He looked up at you, his eyes full of something soft, something vulnerable. “You know… I never thought I’d have this. A family. Not like this.”

You reached out, gently cupping his face in your hand, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “Well, now you do. And you’re going to be a great dad, Rafe.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes flickering with emotions he didn’t quite know how to put into words. But then he nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, as if he were afraid to let go.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice thick with something unspoken. “I guess I do.”

And when his baby girl finally came, his world cracked open in ways he never thought possible. Everything changed in an instant—the noise of the hospital, the rush of doctors, the sterile white walls—all of it faded into the background the moment he saw her. Tiny, fragile, perfect. His heart seemed to stop and race at the same time as the nurse handed her to him, her soft whimpers breaking through the silence like a delicate melody.

Rafe had never known he could love something this much. Not until he was holding his daughter in his arms, her little fingers curling instinctively around his thumb, her eyes barely opening to reveal the softest hint of blue. In that moment, every bad decision he’d ever made, every reckless move, every mistake—it all faded away. Nothing mattered anymore except this.

She was his.

His chest felt tight, his throat constricting as he tried to wrap his head around it all. The weight of responsibility hit him like a wave, but it wasn’t fear that came with it. It was a sense of purpose, a deep, unshakable need to protect her, to give her everything. To never let her feel the kind of emptiness he’d grown up with.

You were lying in the bed, exhausted but glowing, watching him with a tired but content smile. Rafe caught your gaze and smiled back, tears threatening to spill over as he gently cradled your daughter against his chest, her tiny body fitting perfectly in the crook of his arm.

“She’s so small,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, barely above a breath. He felt like he was holding the most precious thing in the world, something so delicate he was terrified of breaking her. But at the same time, he didn’t want to let her go. Ever.

“She’s perfect,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of warmth. “She’s ours.”

Rafe swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that were quickly clouding his vision. His thumb gently brushed over the soft tufts of hair on his daughter’s head, his heart swelling with so much love it almost hurt.

“She’s more than perfect,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I—I don’t even know what to say.”

You smiled gently, reaching out for his hand. “You don’t have to say anything. You’re doing it, Rafe. You’re already her father.”

The words hit him like a punch to the chest. He’d never been sure if he’d be good enough for this, good enough for you, for the family you’d built together. But looking at his daughter, her tiny face so serene in his arms, he knew he’d never stop trying. He’d move mountains, tear down the sky, do anything and everything to keep her safe.

Rafe stood there for what felt like hours, rocking her gently as you dozed off, exhausted from labor. He couldn’t take his eyes off his daughter, couldn’t believe she was real. She had your nose, your delicate features, and he could already see hints of his own wild streak in her.

It terrified him, and yet it filled him with a pride he couldn’t put into words.

As she shifted slightly in his arms, letting out the tiniest yawn, Rafe felt his entire world center itself around her. His priorities had changed in an instant, everything he’d once thought was important—money, power, even his own survival—seemed so insignificant now. The only thing that mattered was the little girl sleeping soundly against his chest.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering as he whispered, “I’m never letting you go. I promise.”

And in that moment, he meant it. Every word.

He didn’t need anything else—no approval from his family, no redemption from his past. He had you, and now he had her. His little family. A family that was his to protect, his to love, his to spoil with every fiber of his being.

Rafe knew he’d made mistakes—plenty of them—but as he held his daughter close, he made a silent vow to her. He’d be better. He’d always be better for her.

Because now, his world wasn’t just about him anymore. It was about her, about you. And for the first time in his life, he had something worth fighting for that didn’t come with strings attached or conditions. It was just love. Pure, overwhelming, unconditional love.

And Rafe Cameron was never going to let that go.

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[stxrvel]

the cliff (1)

hi guys! this is the first azriel fic i post here. i mainly do marvel but i just couln't stop thinking about this so i decided to take it forward. i hope you guys like this! see u next time <;33

summary: you never thought that the road to your mate could bring so much suffering… pairing: azriel x f!reader words: +4k warnings: briefly descriptions of torture, bad words, descriptions of sorrow¿?, angst but a happy ending, i think. also, English is not my first language and i actually read acotar in another language, so sorry for any mistakes! and also!! i haven't read a court of silver flames, so probably the facts around cassian and nesta's bond and feyre's pregnancy aren't accurate, sorry for that!

part 2: the house

part 3: the court

part 4: the routine

You were sure that the decisions you had made shouldn't have led you to that place. With your limp legs dragging against the grass, the wet feel of the mud drying coldly on your skin with each gale, increasing the chills that ran through your body, not only because of the dread and fear you had for your life, but because of the scorching frost on the top of that cliff.

There was something magical about wishing upon a shooting star. You knew it, your parents were living proof that it worked. They had met just after your mother had wished upon a dying star. Mates. And they promised you it would be the same for you. You hoped it would be the same for you when, encouraged by your same parents, you wandered Prythian in search of meeting the other end of the bond that you knew connected you to someone beyond, in search of a connection greater than you could ever understand.

You firmly believed in that magic one night, in the midst of the lonely and almost desolate journey from end to end, when lying watching the night sky you saw it pass by. A helpless shooting star.

You made your wish with your heart in your hand, closing your eyes and whispering as if it were a prayer. Maybe it was. You didn't know if that was what had gone wrong.

All you knew was that, the next day, your journey was over.

You hadn't finished waking up when you found yourself being dragged across the ground of the Day Court, right at the border it shared with the Night Court, from the hands of Ilyrian soldiers who wouldn't listen to your shouted words. Or simply preferred to ignore them.

You weren't sure how much you had screamed at them, even as they took you in the most savage way possible and furrowed you through the wind, the cold gusts of the Nightmare Court piercing your skin. But it had to have been a good while, because the next time you were above ground your throat was so dry you could barely breathe.

You didn't know what was going on, not even when days later, after feeding yourself with only mush and water, you met the first person willing to tell you something and not turn his face away from you. It was a man, Ilyrian too, with gigantic black wings that covered almost all the light in the small room where you were held captive. His constant presence invoked darkness.

He never introduced himself. He would only ask “who sent you?”, waiting for a sane answer from you, one that you couldn't give because every time you tried to say something that was not remotely like what he wanted to hear, he would move two fingers of his left hand and two more soldiers would enter the room and grab you roughly by the arms, pulling you closer to a barrel with water that was in the corner of the room. That was the water you usually drank, and it was never as cold as when they entered the room.

Needless to say, after a couple of days, you couldn't even go near the water anymore.

It could've been a couple of days, weeks or months… you weren't sure anymore. Time had become an insignificant concept compared to your desire for freedom. You had explained countless times to the Ilyrian the reasons why they had found you wandering near the Court, but that wasn't enough. Not even when you told him that they could confirm it with your family in the Summer Court. No excuse was good enough, the Ilyrian seemed to simply want to find a culprit, whatever he had to do, whoever he had to point the finger at.

And then, one day, you thought you saw a glimmer of hope. Another lone shooting star, which you barely caught through the bars the room had for windows. The memory of your parents flooded your memory, a dark cloud settling over you and drowning out any sense of calm you were able to collect after the ilyrians left. Through tears and sobs you begged the star for a way out, hoping its magic was powerful enough to fight the savage soldiers.

The next day more ilyrians than usual appeared, but they did not enter the room. Not after the High Lord of the Night Court did so first.

And you thought the star had heard you.

“She didn't say anything?”

His dismissive, indifferent tone almost made you shudder on the icy floor, but you didn't let that take away your hope, kneeling in front of him with dried tears and dirt on your face. With your hands clasped in front of you, as if he were a deity personified, you begged him to listen to you, but you had to watch him send you a disinterested glance before he turned in the direction of the entrance.

“Take her away.”

You didn't know why you had expected the high lord to intercede on your behalf, knowing the stories that brimmed through the Courts in Prythian. Your parents had warned you. They encouraged you to pursue the bond on your chest, but begged you to go no further than Court Day if the bond demanded it. They made you promise to return, and that they would then seek a way to find your mate if he or she was beyond the Night Court. You should've heeded, of course you did. When you saw the cold, emotionless eyes of the high lord's face, you regretted every decision you had made.

Even though you knew it shouldn't have been that way, because you had never done anything wrong. You had never tried to harm someone. Maybe that made it harder. Wondering every night why. Why did you deserve to go through that? What evil was it that you were paying for?

There was something magical about wishing on a shooting star, but that magic wasn't guarded for you.

-

Azriel had been spending sleepless nights for weeks now, without explanation. Things were quiet in Velaris, even in the Court of Nightmares. But when he entered the darkness of his room at night, when he tried to close his eyes with his wings spread across the bed, a knot stirred in his chest. Tears would well up behind his eyes and a sadness would engulf him from head to toe. It was so overwhelming that there were few nights when Azriel could contain the feelings and despair of his shadows.

He tried not to let that deficiency interrupt his work, but it was difficult when his eyes would close at the table during breakfast, or in the middle of the room when Rhys talked about the weekly goals. Several times his friends would start asking questions, but it was easy for Azriel to say he had trouble sleeping because that was never an uncommon occurrence over the course of his long life.

It was once Rhys told him that he had told Madja about his problem and she had sent him some herbs that it all started to get weirder.

Yes, Azriel was able to fall asleep. But every night he had strange dreams. Dreams of a life that was not his own. Memories of someone else he didn't even know. Another woman's life, somewhere Azriel could barely remember when he woke up, with more people who must have been close to her, but not to him, who shared her day to day life, who celebrated together with her, who were happy. Azriel didn't wake up much better in the mornings than when he spent the whole night without sleep.

Now he not only had to deal with the heaviness of lack of sleep, but with the questions. He could never think they were random dreams because he heard the same laughter every time, the same voice, the same place. He felt the same tranquility before waking up.

Azriel believed Madja would be his source of answers then.

“Your mate is looking for you,” the old woman answered him, one sunny day in Velaris when he chased her through her tent hoping she would answer his one question. That stopped him abruptly on his feet, his body from the abdomen upward leaning forward a bit from the suddenness of the movement.

“Mate?”

Madja barely hissed in response, a sound of affirmation that would haunt Azriel for several days afterward.

“How is that possible?”

“What?”

Madja was turning her back to him, her small body hunched over as she inspected the medicinal plants she kept for sale. Azriel watched them along with her, his mind moving through the threads of thoughts, between every memory of his dreams and every memory…of her.

“How can she do that?”

Azriel heard Madja sigh and the sound of metal followed as she dropped the gray watering can she had kept for years into place. Azriel could still remember the first time it had been seen, shiny and pompous in the Velaris sunlight. Madja's brown eyes roamed over his face and Azriel hadn't felt this way since the time when Rhys's mom had looked at him with loving motherly eyes.

“Don't ask me how the bond works, Shadowsinger. The Cauldron knows how it does things.”

Azriel could sleep less after that. Madja had left him with more questions than answers. And, on that note, Azriel began to fly over Velaris more often. For some reason, he felt she was close. The bond hadn't snapped into place yet, but he knew that the time was near when that would happen. He didn't even know if it had snapped for her yet, all he knew was that he had a mate over there, too far away from him, and too scared for him to stand idly by.

Eventually, Azriel had to talk to Rhysand. Rhys, his high lord, his best friend, his brother. Probably the only person in the Inner Circle who could fully understand how he felt at those moments. Because Azriel felt he was going to lose his mind if he didn't find his mate and end whatever suffering she was going through. The uncertainty was eating him alive and the hours of hopelessness and fear that were going on inside him, around that emptiness in his chest, did not ease things at all. If he felt this way from the comfort of his home, he didn't want to imagine what she was going through.

Rhysand agreed to allow him more outings to enlarge the perimeter of his search, but the passing days proved his effort fruitless.

“Everything okay, brother?”

Cassian had met his mate. Nesta, Feyre's sister. Azriel was very happy for him, very happy that his brothers had found their life mates and that he could realize the good they brought into their lives. But there was a huge shadow that haunted him, beyond the darkness he carried with him, and it had much to do with the guilt of not being able to find and deliver his mate from suffering. He no longer knew how much time had passed. His shadows stirred restlessly every day, with every memory, with every gale.

Azriel sighed when he felt Cassian's hand on his left shoulder, as they both stood watching Velaris from the top of a mountain.

“I don't know what to do anymore, Cassian,” Azriel let out, his shoulders slumping under the pressure and stress.

He usually didn't talk about the subject of his mate with his brothers, not as often as someone would think to be so close. It was something Azriel held close to his heart and wanted to resolve on his own, but so many failures were beginning to weigh him down.

Cassian patted his shoulder and then gave it a squeeze, trying to silently comfort him, though he knew that would do little to soothe the clamor in his soul. Because, though the bond hadn't snapped for Azriel, he could well believe that he had had it tugging at his chest in an unfamiliar direction for months now. Even if he didn't feel the bond, the mere acknowledgement of its existence was agony, especially when it didn't help him find his mate.

Cassian sighed beside him, letting a few seconds pass in silence before speaking again, his gaze fixed on Velaris' expanse and his heart shrinking at the visible suffering on his brother's face.

“Rhysand is traveling to the camp, will you accompany us?”

Azriel lately had little desire for anything other than touring Velaris and the surrounding area of the Court of Nightmares looking for his mate, but this time he decided to accept. For some reason, Azriel decided to accompany them.

The Night had been feuding with the Summer for a couple of years. Tarquin and Rhysand… were not on the best of terms. The last time Feyre had traveled to the Summer, pregnant with Nyx, Tarquin and his army had held her captive because of a misunderstanding in the information they had obtained from the Spring Court and the Mortal Lands. Rhysand almost destroyed the entire Summer Court with his bare hands if not for Cassian and Azriel, who were able to broker a deal between the two as mediators. It was a very tense time at the beginning.

Mind you, Rhysand did not leave without letting Tarquin know that it would be years before they would return to the same trade, diplomatic and friendly relations as before, if they could ever speak of forgiveness. Azriel remembered how the only person from the Night Court who could cross Tarquin's lands, for a time, was Mor. They were all warned and the meetings of the high lords were suspended, at least with respect to attendance.

For that reason, Rhysand became extremely wary of anyone connected with the Summer Court and for him, being the high lord, it was not too much work to know who wandered near his lands. They had already captured a handful of Summer Court spies in recent years and held them captive in camp with the Ilyrian soldiers.

Of course, the Night Court was much more careful with their spying, having Shadowsinger himself on their side. Azriel had visited the Summer Court a couple of times by stealth, handing Rhysand reports and any strategic breakthroughs he could decipher.

There was one, however, that they could not foresee. Someone Azriel never knew was coming out of the Summer Court. It had been a couple of years since then and it seemed the Ilyrians had been unable to break the spy's stone will.

“Are you going all the way to the mountain?” Rhysand had stopped in front of Azriel as soon as his feet touched the grassy ground, a few feet from the entrance to the camp. His eyes flicked briefly to the bustle behind his high lord, his shoulders tensing unconsciously as he took slow steps towards Rhysand with his hands in the pockets of his tunic and his wings tucked neatly behind his back. Cassian landed behind him, kicking up a layer of wet grass and mud that soiled his boots.

“Argh.”

“I think I'll be at a distance this time.”

Rhysand nodded, with no intention of convincing Azriel to accompany him to give the imprisoned spies of the Summer a death scare.

“I hope the screams are worth this mudslinging,” Cassian spoke up, moving closer to his two friends, forming a small circle. Rhysand barely gave him a glance before turning on his heels and beginning to make his way to the entrance of the camp, where some of the soldiers were clustered to see the high lord. “You're going to be in the bay?”

“Yes,” Azriel walked alongside Cassian, scowling at the entrance through which Rhysand had just crossed, the Ilyrian soldiers freezing in front of their high lord. “I'll watch from afar. Right now I don't have the stomach for anything.”

“I understand, brother,” Cassian squeezed his shoulder again amicably, sending him a tight-lipped look. Cassian was quite good with words, despite many labeling him as insensitive for being Ilyrian, but he knew Azriel well enough to know when he wanted to talk about something and when he preferred not to. “See you then.”

Cassian followed in Rhysand's footsteps, approaching in long strides, while Azriel paused watching his companions disappear into the distance.

Sighing, the knot in his chest tightened. It was so strange to have a void that could feel so many things. Azriel often wondered how it was possible that he still didn't feel the bond, when his emotions had expanded out of his head and there was no longer a feeling he didn't sense inside his bones.

Flapping his wings to take flight, Azriel set off towards the bay, close to the cliff where Rhysand planned to take the Summer Court spies. He was a few yards away, close enough to make out figures, but not too far away that he couldn't hear the screams.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, damp despite the early rising sun, his shadows began to stir around him, restless. They must've sensed his nervousness, the anxiety that ran through his chest like electric currents to his fingertips, causing him to spasm and break out in a cold sweat. Azriel could barely see them moving around him, separating from his body and stirring on the ground just a few centimeters before turning back.

At the top of the cliff he could already make out the figures of Rhysand and Cassian, walking menacingly towards the inmates, leaving them no choice but to keep walking backwards until they fell into the void, where Cassian would then land them, one by one. Azriel could hear them if he wanted to, but his mind and his shadows kept him a bit distracted.

He barely made out the first screams and the sound of Cassian's wings when his shadows began to whisper, much more restless.

Close.

Close.

Help.

Fear.

Help.

Azriel raised his head and his eyes stopped just short of Rhysand's figure in front of about three spies. At that moment, Azriel's shadows took off, moving at great speed across the grass and stones, with the Shadowsinger unable to do anything to stop them, though he tried. His confused gaze swept over the small figures on the cliff, with such speed that his head was beginning to ache, but he couldn't recognize anything.

He was about to fly in the direction his shadows had gone, when a strange, overwhelming sensation, somewhere between irrational fear and deep sadness, sent his back to the ground moving across his chest, as one of the figures slipped and fell into the void. Azriel felt all the air stolen from his lungs, opening his mouth to try to catch his breath, as those sensations coursed through his entire body and settled in his chest, taking strong root as if they belonged there. They were so overwhelming that they caused him physical pain. The ache he must've been feeling for months.

The bond.

The few remaining shadows beside him whispered endlessly.

Help.

Help.

Help.

Azriel raised his head, breathing hard. He felt his chest split open, as if with great force they were breaking his sternum to pull out his heart. It was such an overwhelming and painful sensation that, but for his strong will, he would surely have lost consciousness.

Help.

Help.

Mate.

Mate.

Azriel thought afterwards that he had never moved so fast or with such force as that moment, when he realized what was happening. The adrenaline that coursed through his body, even feeling electric currents run through him from head to toe from the precise moment he felt the bond, didn't allow him to think too much about how the air hurt his eyes because he already knew exactly where he had to go. He had spent so much time flying without direction, walking the wrong paths and searching in empty places. At that moment, when he had a reason and a direction, Azriel couldn't think of anything else. He didn't want to.

He could only look at the figure falling off the cliff from the moment he raised his head. He could only head blindly towards it. The overwhelming fear that threw him backwards was the fear she felt as under her feet she felt the void, her hands moving forward trying to hold on to something that would allow her to live.

Azriel felt like he was about to die with her.

He met Cassian halfway from afar, who seemed to be about to fly in her direction to catch her when he ran into his friend, but Azriel moved too quickly and with anticipation without losing sight of his mate. The chill that ran through his body could've paralyzed him with fear, but how could he stand by and do nothing when his mate was falling to her undisputed death.

He thought he heard Rhysand's scream. Surely it was so, but in his mind there hovered only the thought that he must reach her, he must get there in time. Her hands were outstretched and Azriel stretched out his hands, hoping that would help him move faster.

Mind blank, Azriel felt like he had just pulled his head out of the water, his chest opening in an unfamiliar thrill as his body felt the warmth of his mate's body crashing against him and his arms wrapped around her in a promise to never let go again. His wings wrapped around her immediately after his arms, impacting a few seconds later against the muddy ground.

He was too close to not catch her. The thought left him breathless.

For a moment, he only heard his and her labored breathing, with the whistling of the wind through the trees and the movement of the water of a stream a few feet away. For a moment, Azriel went completely blank. Whether he was there or dreaming, he didn't know.

His hands clamped tightly around her arms, encircling her entire back, feeling the reality of what had happened sink in on him bit by bit. Fear gripped him once more then, considering that there was a chance he hadn't been there to stop that. To prevent it.

He didn't want to move. Still adrenaline coursed through his body and he was so alert that he could clearly hear the voices of his friends in the distance. Seconds later, when he heard their wings, he finally moved.

Azriel met your eyes and with that look alone he knew you had felt the bond as well.

“I'm sorry,” was all Azriel could think of, his eyes crystallizing, voice breaking. “I'm so sorry.”

You were transfixed. Azriel felt you looking at him with fear and that motivated him to move away from your body, but you gripped his arms tightly to hold him in place.

Azriel felt a great heaviness in his chest as he examined your face and what he saw did not please him at all. Guilt swelled on his shoulders, a great weight that ascended with each passing second and he could hardly imagine all that you had had to go through in that camp. You were right under his nose and he couldn't find you. What kind of a partner was he to let all that happen?

When he heard the footsteps of his friends, his shoulders tensed. But it didn't go unnoticed the way you also became aware of their presence and let go of his arms, rushing to hug yourself as you moved to sit behind Azriel. scared. Still breathing rapidly, Azriel sent a warning look. Cassian and Rhysand stopped a short distance away, noticing the obvious hostility emanating from their friend's body, but Rhysand just stopped for a second.

“Azriel, what the fuck?”

Rhysand was so angry that he seemed to have a little red tinge over his face. Good, he was angry, maybe then Azriel wouldn't feel so bad about breaking his face.

“Rhys,” Cassian frowned, quickly picking up on the tense and hostile atmosphere around him. He grabbed the arm of his high lord, who jerked angrily and turned his gaze back to the Shadowsinger.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you aware of what you just fucking did?”

“Rhysand,” Cassian stopped his high lord, raising his voice and holding his arm tightly this time.

Rhysand turned to look at him with a frown and it seemed that, through his mind, Cassian spoke to him. The next time Rhysand looked back at him, his expression was unclenching, but Azriel stood stone-faced in front of you, his hands clasped at his sides and ready to face anything.

“No way,” was all Rhysand muttered, moving to run his hands through his hair.

Azriel felt one of your hands on his back, his senses splitting in half to try and attend to you as he kept an eye on his brothers on the other side. He moved his head to look at you, your frightened expression trying to hide you from Cassian's curious eyes.

“Is this real?”

Azriel felt his heart crumple. Tears welled behind his eyes and burning hurted the back of his throat. He wanted to say so many things, apologize for a million other things, but in that moment he only responded, moving to squeeze your hand:

“It's real.”

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー２０２４> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT ⚠️

A DIFFERENT TYPE OF FREEDOM 🍼 SHANKS X F! READER ＫINKTOBER DAY 18: SLAVE/MASTER

🐙 requested by: Anonymous. For ur kinktober list, Day 18: slave/master kink for Shanks if ur still taking requests? Fem reader and for kinks I guess corruption kink (inexperienced fem reader) and whatever kinks u think are right! I think shanks wouldn’t actually own slaves but the red haired pirates would probably rescue one (reader) from being sold and role playing with Shanks would be healing for her in a way? ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. master! shanks, he frees reader from the CD. Slave reader. corruption kink. she is not exactly a virgin, but has little to non exp. oral. vag. 🐙 wc: 1.2k // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist

There’s always a hidden side on each and every person; charismatic, funny, laid back… even to some, a father figure.

To you, those red locks you only see at night, represent a much more different thing… freedom? Maybe… 

“Goodnight, Master” you whisper, always looking down.  “Goodnight, sweetheart. Bring me some sake, please” Shanks commands, laying down an old -pretty used- sofa. 

He is not remotely clean, nor does he plans to shower. The red-haired man only wants to lay and do nothing after a pretty long day. 

As you try to pour the alcoholic liquid on a tiny jar, he snatches the bottle from you. 

“The whole bottle might be a more accurate glass” 

You nod, watching him engulf the sake with no manners whatsoever. Shanks looks stressed, tired… something must have affected him after visiting Marie Joise.

“Do you need anything else, Sir?” you ask, fidgeting your fingers while you try to ignore how hot his masculine unmannered actions are to you. 

“You know (Name) how much you cost me?” he asks, looking at you from the side as he battles for the last drop to fall from the bottle into his tongue. 

You shake your head, yet you are sure you weren’t expensive… Tenryuubitos consider your lives as mere trinkets. 

“Well, you are lucky to be so unaware… you cost me a large amount of berries and not only that, be thankful it was me who took you from Saint Rosward…” he mutters.

A sudden feeling of guilt and devotion sprouts on your insides, causing your knees and palms to hit the ground. 

“I’m so sorry, Master Shanks! I’m grateful for life!! I don’t have wealth nor anything but my body to repay you. You can use me for anything you wish!” you scream, hitting your forehead against the wooden floor of an old, shitty cabin on Sabaody. 

Shanks stands up; those words sounded a little too much.. however, his twitching crotch stops him… “you can use my body” she said? Well… 

“I… You really want to become my slave?” Shanks asks, with a smirk that’s so dark that it is even darker than the Celestial Dragon’s.

You nod, weary. An inexperienced young woman like you still can’t see the consequences of accepting such deal… “Yes, Master Shanks. I know you will be a lot more merciful than any of those bastards” 

But are you completely sure?

“Very well, come here then… do you know how to use your mouth, (Name)?” he asks, flopping back into the couch, patting his lap right after.

“I… yes… I’m not an expert, but I’ll do my best to please you, sir” you answer, crawling on all fours towards him. 

“Don’t worry, I am in fact a lot more interested in having a sweet innocent girl all for me…” he whispers, brushing your hair back before getting his sex closer to your lips. 

You are told to stick your tongue out first, allowing drops of precum to garnish it. 

Shanks sighs loudly when you look up at him with puppy eyes and your mouth full of his arousal liquids; his toes curl… why corrupting someone who has already been corrupted in many other ways, feels -and looks- so delicious? 

It takes almost all of his Haki to stop himself not to bury his dick inside your throat almost immediately; Shanks fights the need to break you, mercilessly… however, you make it so difficult for him. 

You let your blouse of exposed shoulders to fall down your chest. Showing off turgor and anticipation, your breasts exposed, close to his sex, ready to engulf his shaft in between the two of them. 

“That’s… good, babe” Shanks grunts, pleased. His dick slides in between your tits, while he encourages you to press them around it and start moving up and down. 

He brushes your hair back, enjoying the look on your face with your tongue out. Shanks hips accompany your ups and downs, going faster and rougher. It is until he begins to spasm more frequently that he cannot control himself no more. 

Pushing you back, softly but enough to move your body, you fall down. Covering your head with your arms, you try to protect yourself as an instinctive reaction to your traumatic past. 

“No, I won’t hurt you… come here” he exclaims, with pity tinting his words but lust blurring his judgment. 

As you stand up, he turns you around and pins you against an old table. The cracking sound might tell it won’t resist much weight but none of you care. 

Shanks hand lifts the skirt of your dress, finding your non-existent panties covering your sex. He is surprised as intrigued as to why you have no underwear on… however doubts must be cleared once he is over with you… 

“Lift a leg up for me, babe” he orders. 

You comply; left leg up, knee on the side on top of the table. 

“Good girl, please keep it up as you are pretty tight still… ugh, tight and wet…” Shanks trembles, his words make you and him extra horny. 

Shanks isn’t able to take time to prepare your entrance, he just wants to fuck you; just a little bit of your honeys rubbed against his tip will be enough to slide right in. 

“Have you ever been fucked this way, (Name)? he asks in your ear, as your insides engulf his sex with tightness and eagerness. 

“N-no… master Shanks… I- have barely been touched and penetrated, let alone used in such lewd position” you purr, enjoying the manly scent of his sun kissed skin. 

“My sweet innocent slave, I’ve made such a great choice to make you mine… I’ll corrupt you until you are nothing but my perfect little fleshlight” he moans while his hips begin to ram in and out of you so hard. Slapping thighs against ass as the rhythm increases and you become more and more weak for his sex…

Your nails carve marks on that wooden table, your nape becomes sore as he keeps biting on it, sweating on it the more he fucks you… your new life has taken a very interesting turn, freedom and at what cost? 

For sure you have won; Ah, what a pleasure it is to become Akagami no Shank’s slave.

Taglist of amazing babes: @terrabear2003 @eyes-ofhell @cokou @seoul-is-a-dream @tinydonkeysforlife @appalost @themessedupsonata @ariesbbytings @animesnowstorm @lenablack9919

[sagstelliums]

What will you and your future spouse’s parenting style be like (pac) *follower request

Pile 1

I see that you guys may bump heads sometimes about certain things you don’t want or want your kid doing, I see that you’ll both be wary about the type of people you allow around your kid/kids. I see that you guys may be strict because you want your children to be the best they can be, I see that both of you will use your masculine energy a lot when parenting. I see that you both have balance between the times you have to be gentle and times you have to be stricter/tougher on them, I see that you both put in a lot of energy towards your kids. You both will be affectionate, energetic, and fun parents. Signs- Virgo/pisces. Initials- D, U, W, K, V

Pile 2

I see that you guys will be hard on yourselves, you both will put a lot of pressure on yourselves about being perfect parents. I see that you both worry about if you’re kids are happy or if you’re making the right choices for them, I see that you guys may spoil your kids and you’ll both have a hard time saying no to them. I see that you guys will let your children have freedom and they’ll be curious/fearless/adventurous and optimistic, I see that you both won’t judge your kids and you’ll let them have some independence. You guys may spend too much money on your kids, I see that even though your kids will have freedom you’ll both still be protective over them. I see that you’ll be smart parents and you’ll have your own way of doing things for your kids, It may be hard to discipline them because sometimes in you guy’s eyes they can do no wrong. I see that whoever has the feminine energy will have a strong intuitive connection with their kids. Signs- Taurus/scorpio. Initial- R, O, N, K, S

Pile 3

I see that you guys may feel like you don’t have enough control over your kids, I see that you both will feel like your kids are sneaky or youll both have to be sneaky to discipline or keep your kids safe. I see that your kids will be sort of rebellious and it’ll cause you to feel some self doubt about your parenting skills, I see that you guys may argue about how to raise you kids or how to get a better handle on them. I see that you guy’s parenting style may be a little more aggressive than you expected. Signs- Aries, Sagittarius, cancer. Initial- S, H, V, C, U

Personal readings always available

Pngs by @tinibuni Divider by @saradika-graphics

[hhighkey]

Cry-Baby // Phinks, one shot - part of hhighkey’s phantom troupe universe series

Rating: mature Story Contains: implied past kidnapping, emotional manipulation, possessive/overprotective tendencies, rough sex, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, overly sensitive / easy to manipulate reader, phinks is not the good bf reader thinks he is, reader is unaware of the troupe until halfway, panic attacks, anger issues Note: around 13.2k words, ao3 link: xxx , this one shot is a big expansion off the smut headcanon I did awhile ago for Phinks. This has references to my Uvogin oneshot 'Taken' as his partner is the Reader from that (she's unnamed), and my Feitan one shot 'An Ode to...' is referenced slightly. On ao3 I have these one hits in a series for like a ‘phantom troupe universe’ so there's some overarching themes / connections going on. which reading the others aren't needed tho if u don't want!

It didn't take much, the TV channels with the abandoned dogs or a too sappy book, even your favorite ice cream being sold out. You'd be tearing up, lash line wet and moist as tears slowly dripped down. A tightening in your sensitive chest as you desperately tried to stop the looming cries that always found their way out. 

Since the day a tall muscular, handsome  blonde in a tracksuit walked into your life, everything changed. At first overwhelming joy over the man who memorized your coffee order, brought you tulips after you said you liked them in passing. Even your elderly next door neighbor adored him and she was a tough nut to crack.

You weren't sure when it changed. Six months of spending time together, careful glances as you saw how Phinks had immeasurable strength yet he'd blush at the smallest of things that came to you. 

So when did your life take a hard right turn? Had it really been the moment you meant Phinks, or was it when you told him about your new job opportunity with relocation? You remembered the panic on his chiseled features, how he ran his thick fingers through his combed blonde locks. How your back hit the wall as he stood over you, apologies spilling from his lips and then black. 

Intense grief over your past life and sudden lack of freedom contributed to the constant tears of your already sensitive state. Did you necessarily care that the man you loved was insanely protective, not allowing you to leave his home? And that your poor, soft head never once considered it to be kidnapping? Once dreaming of the day he asked you out but now he wanted you by his side forever? Phinks tried his best, he really did, leaving the room if a fight got intense, body language the epitome of a dangerous man when angry. Even as his fists clenched in anger because you refused something. Let you yell at him. Let you have your moments to starve yourself just to spite him. But the man knew how to woo- from your favorite music to shows, to learning to bake with you. His hot temper and possessive tendencies meant little when he babied and cared for you every turn. 

One day, you supposed you'd just snapped that your relationship with Phinks was more important than being able to have a phone or shop on your own. Or perhaps you gave into the feelings that were already there before he took you. You just stopped fighting the claws of doubt that nudged at your mind that kidnapping someone was not normal, that you can't be with him now. That meant little once you finally pressed your lips to his out of the blue and his tense muscled melted against you. Once you remembered a book you read in school, an intense look into the life of a woman who had intense Stockholm Syndrome and the psychology into it. You cried and cried over the book. Mourned for the fictional character, but somehow, in a messed up way you kept finding yourself rooting for their love. Maybe that was a big reason the author wrote it. You didn’t believe your love for Phinks was based on a psychological abuse based bond.

Phinks took you because he feared he’d lose you, he’d apologized for his mistakes. He never got violent towards you when business went bad or you’d not communicated in a way he needed while traveling. And that was good enough for you. 

Oh you could not wait for him to get home, he'd called the landline this morning to let you know he was on his way. You could jump for joy, heart racing with every growing excitement, fluttering nerves as you'd cleaned the townhome all morning. 

You glance to the timer, the minutes ticked down to when your garlic butter pull-away bread would be done- Phinks’s favorite. Growing up, your mother always emphasized the importance of a clean home, of cooking and preparing a meal for someone after a long day's work. You hoped she'd be impressed with the life you had with Phinks. 

'Alright,' you smiled to yourself as a faint alarm went off. Grabbing the oven mitts, you pulled the perfectly golden loaf out and placed it on the cooling rack. Oven now off you left the kitchen to change. 

It was almost time for Phinks to arrive home. You’re too impatient by that point, keep looking at the clock in your bedroom. The scent of him that lingered on the pillow you liked to hug close was no longer comforting in his place. With a smile you wanted to dress up better, so you made your way to the closet to pick a dress. 

"Babe?" The front door to your shared townhome slammed shut. Phinks's voice carried up the stairs even though you heard him going towards the kitchen most definitely smelling the fresh bread. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, a gentle smile as you smoothed down your dress. It was a new one Phinks had given you with a blush, saying he saw it and figured you'd look cute. And seeing him so embarrassed made you giddy, excited for him to see you in it. 

And of course you'd let him know you missed him the last few days he'd been gone on a business trip.

"Hey, coming down." You called out, making your way to the stairs. You saw his bag dropped at the door with shoes discarded, mentally making a note to straighten them up. 

"There you ar-" Phinks stopped mid sentence as his gaze lasered on you, he always hated having you out of his sight, made him nervous. His pupils went big as they traveled along every inch of skin, raking in the dress that fit your body perfectly, "Shit you look good." 

"Think so?" You blushed, nervous as you gave him a little spin.

"Know so." 

Phinks wasted no time to grab your waist and pull you into him. He breathed in your scent as he peppered kissed onto the top of your head. He relished in how you squeezed him, nuzzling your face into his chest.

"Missed you." You whined before giving him your best puppy eyes, "You aren't leaving anytime soon again right? Been gone a lot lately and I hate sleeping alone."

"Aw baby," Phinks cooed, "You're adorable. Hate being away from you, you know that right?" 

You nod, enthused and burning with want. Liquid heat spreads throughout your core as his hands slyly inch closer, "I know." It never took long for Phinks to get you undressed and pliant beneath him, completely at his mercy. The feeling of his warm body encapsulating yours was intoxicating mixed with the smell of his cologne. Light kisses fanned your hot skin as he reclaimed your lips for the nth time, meshing into a feathery pure want. 

It was those kisses, how you found yourself stripped, panties discarded and the top of your dress pulled down enough to free your breasts, the skirt hiked up. His fingers dig into your hips and you think you’ll have bruises for days from how his hips had thrusted into your cunt for the last hour. Sounds of slapping skin still reverberated in your ears as beads of sweat littered his skin, muscles always flexing with every movement. 

"Oh baby," Phinks cooed as he stroked your cheek, fingers pinching and squeezing your wet stained flesh. 

You were a mess. Shaking hips and messy hair, eyeliner smeared under the waterline. Phinks had made you cum more times than ever already since got back and started with his head between your legs. So poor little you was a babbling mess with clouded, lust filled thoughts. 

Phinks preferred you this way, well-behaved and hazy, gasping for breath underneath him with your calves resting on his biceps. You're so dazed you barely notice how his thumb flicks to your sensitive clit making your lower body spasm,

"Oh!" you gasp as you see stars. And it's all becoming too much. How hot your body is, how untamable a fire within you is as your hips buck and knots tighten in your abdomen. "Too much Phinks!! Can't-"

And that's when your tears fall. As if all cords and knots snapped at once your mind glittered with pleasure- too much pleasure that it was painful. So much so that you let out an honest to god sob as pools of wetness stain your flushed cheeks. Phinks hips stuttered for a second, coming to a halt as he watched you cry with love in his eyes. The way you were a goddess underneath him, how your face contorted and with hips giving him perfect friction.

"Oh fuck baby- that's hot, keep fucking crying for me." Phinks pressed into you more as he spoke low like a threat, cock pistoning against your cervix as he abused your clit, his thumb determined to stay put as you squirmed. Seeing the puddles fall from your eyes made him shake, a shiver running down his spine. 

And tears fell faster from his words alone as your abdomen burned. You barely recognize the whines leaving your lips through sniffles and cries, and snot begins to drip. Your poor wrists burn from the rope that tied them to the bed frame, the helplessness turning you on even more. 

Phinks face was inches away as he loomed over you, his pupils blown wide as he grinned past his canines. He found it so fascinating how the tears rolled down staining the sheets around your head. Fascinating that he could give you, his pretty little girl, such pleasure like rapture that you were weeping. Your breath fanning across his face with desperate whimpers from the deep of your throat sent him over the edge. Each intake of air was a job in itself, ragged breathing as you clawed at any of his skin you could grasp. 

"Phinks! M' too full- too much-"

Phinks just grunts. Braced himself over you as he suddenly left you empty, just the utmost tip of his long cock inside your gummy walls. A cocky smirk danced across his face and chiseled cheekbones, utterly obsessed with you, twisted feelings in his chest. Your dilated irises, fidgeting and thrashing figure from electricity that corrupted you- made him growl as tears continued to roll down your puffy cheeks. And how as he slammed his hips to yours- to the hilt- deeper- making a cry leave you as a bulge formed in the low plush of your abdomen- made the knots in his stomach begin to unravel. Liked how he could see himself in you- liked how as he pressed down on your tummy you shrieked and cried, begging him to stop as you came, feeling too full, too out of control. Squirt dribbled from your swollen hole as he wiped away at translucent liquid dripping down your face. Blank eyes. All empty on your fucked out face because of him. 

He fucked you through your nth orgasm, grunting and gasping as the squelching noises from your dripping, swollen cunt rang through the air. "You're my good girl aren't ya? Such a pretty baby crying while I fuck your tiny cunt. Gonna fill that greedy tight pussy, princess.”

You cried, nodding your head furiously begging him to cum inside you, as if you'd die if he didn't. 

"Yeah? Know you like it when I cum inside you- beg me- please- need to hear you." And just like that he fell apart. The side of Phinks only you ever got to see. So demanding, so rough, but just a lovesick fool for your crying form shoved full with his cock.

"Ah Phinks-" you were seeing stars, vision slowly going in and out as intense waves of pleasure took over you as your cunt squeezed the life from your lover's cock, "Love you Phinks—" you were babbling, rambling unable to speak straight, "I need you- inside me- m' my pussy needs you."

"Fuck." He grunted as his climax was raining down on him, "All mine, babe." Phinks saw white as he came, falling down on you as he shoved his face into your neck. His cock was to the hilt, shoved into your womb as you dry sobbed leaving deep nail marks on him. Your stomach expanding as his warm cum swarmed your insides, leaving you fuller than you'd been before. Gasping and hugging him close, legs wrapped around his waist so he couldn't leave you- not like he would. The way he nipped at your skin, sucking and nibbling along your collarbone and lower neck. How he ground his still hard and pulsing cock against your spasming walls that just sucked him in. 

His calloused hands soon came into contact with your face as he pushed up, adoringly staring down. He wiped away your loose tears earning him a tiny smile he so loved to see. 

"You always take me so well," and your chest soared as he kissed your forehead. You'd done well for him! His good girl! 

The tears soon dried completely as you'd find yourself in a warmed lathering bath- Phinks doting on your every move whilst unbeknownst to you, the faint sound of the news in the living room was talking about a specific criminal organization.

-

"Are you ready to finally meet Uvogin and his girl?"

You nodded ecstatically, "Yes, yes, so excited to meet her, no offense to Uvogin."

"Figured you would be, he won’t care he’s probably only comin’ for the food. Woulda loved to have you meet her a few months ago but her health was bad, Uvo wanted to make sure she was hundred percent before meeting new people. Some disease involving her lungs wasn't paying attention."

"I understand, that's scary." You hummed, kneading dough for its final stretching. Though you rolled your eyes at your boyfriend's ability to relay information regarding others, "This needs another 45 minutes to sit and rise some more, then it can go in the oven."

"Which is my job right?"

"Yes don't want to burn myself." You purse your lips, "Feel like something's missing though."

"Like what?" Phinks wrapped his muscular arms around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Don't know, maybe an ingredient?" You looked about your organized mess before a lightbulb went off in your head, "Oh, the fruit, can you get the cantaloupe out and cut it into cubes?"

"Yes ma'am." He kissed your head again before going to cut the fruit.

Boy did Phinks make cooking an extensive meal easier (though at first it was substantially harder by his lack of knowledge or experience). He’d handle anything too hot, he was better with knives, and no longer did you have to mix until an arm cramped. You liked the cute overly focused look that'd crease his brows and pursed his lips as he focused on a task you gave him. It warmed your insides at how dutiful he was towards you, how he enjoyed your girly hobbies as he’d call them. 

Time went by too fast whenever you cooked, and it felt as if you never left yourself enough of it. You cut it too close for comfort, the food ready a minute before the sound of the doorbell went off. You’re in the middle of bringing dishes to the dining room table as two new voices meet your ears. Not able to stop the growing but, still nervous as you brushed along your pink apron.

“Babe,” Phinks voice called out, “C’mere.” 

You obeyed as if on cue, “Hi.” As you walked from the open kitching to where they stood in the foyer, Phinks hugged you to his side. 

“Uvo.” Said the largest man you’ve ever laid eyes on with a large grin. And Phinks is stifling laughter as you look Uvo up and down with parted lips, head cocked to the side. Even the girl besides Uvo attempts to hold amusement too.

Uvogin introduced her to you, his fiancé, which had been news to Phinks. And earned him a glare for not knowing his friend got engaged when they recently moved right next door. The audacity of men. 

"Hi, I'm Y/N." You said, politely pulling the large man's partner in for a hug. Everyone was small compared to Uvogin you thought, but this woman had an aura to her that pulled you in as if the giant didn't exist. Her smile was so warm and she smelled of fresh rose and pine. You note she’s frail, remembering what Phinks said about her health, and you loosen your arms on her. 

“So,” You rub your hands together motioning for people to follow, “People hungry enough to eat?”

“I’m fuckin’ famished.” Uvogin helped his way to where the food sat out at the table; Different vegetables, cantaloupe, roasted lamb and a cinnamon loaf. From the corner of your eye you see his fiance scolding him as he tried to grab a piece of meat, and for a moment you felt a surreal sense of belonging. To see them seeing so content together, you hoped that was how you and Phinks came across, since interactions with others were so limited. 

You gave the table a final look as the three of them sat down, needing one last thing you moved to the kitchen. The sound of cell phones going off is easily recognizable as you grab napkins and a serving spoon. Glancing across the island you see Phinks typing away at his phone. A chime went off and then another. You watched as Uvogin and Phinks looked semi-annoyed scowling at the screens, “Huh.” Uvo muttered as he wrapped an arm over the back of his fiance’s chair. “What’s normally on Channel 5?”

“What?” She asked him, sending you an annoyed look that read ‘Men’ as you placed napkins around the circular table. 

“Dunno. Y/N could you grab the remote since you’re up?” Phinks asks.

“Of course, one sec, the remote is over there.” You say, padding over to the loveseat on the other side of the room where Phinks was watching something earlier. 

Clicking the TV on you find it was already set to Channel 5, immediately fixated on the news, showing pictures of a gruesome crime scene. Turning the volume up, your stomach drops at the banner flashing on the screen in red ‘Phantom Troupe Strikes Again: 35 Dead, 12 Missing.’ 

“Oh my god,” You say with a gasp taking in the horrid sight, “That’s horrible.”

As you glance to where the other three stand, you immediately notice the discomfort. Uvogin and his fiance are staring dead at Phinks, while Phinks fingers flex at his side unblinking, directed at you.

“What?” 

“She doesn’t know?” Uvo’s fiance asked in a hushed voice, you barely hear it. 

“Know what?” You move forward, while she stares at you with wide eyes, immediately looking down at her plate.

“Oh- uh,” Phinks stammered as he quickly got up to make his way to you, “Just that news has been all over, she probably assumed you knew. Pretty scary.”

What you can see of her, Uvo’s partner didn’t have the ability to play it off. She seemed as if mentally transported elsewhere as she played with her fingers. 

“We’re gonna get going...” Uvogin says abruptly. He shot Phinks a look and it makes you want to scream, feeling as if left out of one big joke.

“Turn that shit off.” Phinks is at your side faster than you’ve ever seen him move. You jumped back in shock, flinching from the dark look on his face. You’re frozen at the sound of the remote shattering against the wall. 

It’s then that Uvogin is dragging his girl out with none of the food yet to be touched, but you catch her lips moving your way, you think she’s mouthing- ‘It’ll be fine.��� Not that it comforted you. The front door slammed. And then there were two. 

Tension that could be cut with a knife. You inch away from him, gaze flitting from the now black screen of the TV to Phinks. Something tells you his outburst has to do with the news, why he always told you your soft brain couldn’t handle it. That he just wanted to protect you from bad things that’d make you cry. 

“Phinks?” He doesn’t respond; fists clenched as he stares downwards. A bulging vein on his forehead tells you this is serious. “Tell me what's going on, why did they seem nervous? Why’d they leave so quickly? Did I do something wrong?” 

“Thought I told you not to watch the news.”

“It was on when I turned it on Phinks, you were the last one who used it.”

“Shit.” He had been. He didn’t flip the stupid fucking channel or bother to remember which channel numbers lined up with which station. 

“Please be honest, you and Uvo were having a conversation with your eyes! I feel like an idiot being left out of this. Why did she say ‘I didn’t know’ when I brought up the Phantom Troupe? And what you responded with doesn’t add up.”

“You’re gonna hurt your brain thinkin’ so hard babe. Let’s drop it.”

“You broke the remote by throwing it against the wall, Phinks.” You place your hands on your hip, frustration bubbling in your chest. “That was uncalled for especially in front of guests.”

“Fuck.” Phinks breathes heavy into his hands before pressing them against his forehead, “Fuck!” 

You step back, swallowing hard. His outburst has your brow lining in sweat, terror pulsing at the back of your mind.

“Phinks?” The watergates opened as fat tears fell down your cheeks, “Y-you’re scaring me.” 

You think he’ll comfort, explain it and take your fears away. But he doesn’t. 

“Y/N.” His eyes look as if they’re screaming for your forgiveness. Slowly, Phinks tugs off his sweatshirt. Suddenly you felt as if the room increased a hundred degrees, you’re too hot, feeling like you’ll choke from the dense air. Then he strips off his shirt, “You know how I keep this covered, told you it was an embarrassing scar?” You nod. “It’s a tattoo.” 

“Tattoo of what?” You whisper. 

You were never bothered by the fact he kept a bandage-like piece on his right shoulder blade. You assumed it was so personal that eventually he’d open up. Because you trusted him. 

But as his fingers peel it off, you catch sight of black ink. 

A black spider with a number 5 inked in the middle stares back. 

An incessant ringing blares in your ears. You’d heard of that tattoo, that it signifies the person is a spider, a fearsome thief of the underworld. A member of the Phantom Troupe. An urban legend your mom once told you about so you wouldn’t sneak out with a boy at 15, that you only recently learned was true. 

“You’re- when you leave for work… What is it you do again? And don’t say some business- Tell me.” You say between your dry heaves, your sobs as you furiously wipe away tears. 

“I’m a member of the Phantom Troupe babe, one of its founding members.”

Your head is spinning, legs wobble as you lose your balance. Phinks hurries to catch you as they give out, placing you on the couch, between your legs. But you push at his head and squirm back to get away. Shying into the couch cushions as you stare at him, eyes red. 

“I- Don’t play with me. Please tell me you aren’t in that group! You can’t be.” 

“Baby-”

“Don’t touch me.” You spit venom in your words as you rip your wrist from his grasp, holding it to your chest.

“Y/N this doesn’t change the fact I love you, doesn’t change anything here for us. Shouldn’t it prove to you that my vows to protect you are legitimate, that I’m strong enough to do so?”

“That’s your attempt to convince me?” It won’t stop, the downflow of tears and the running snot you wipe at. Your words turn to pathetic blubbering. "You.. kill people?"

Phinks nodded, huffing into his hands. The man is panicking, his chest tight with knots when all he wanted was to pull you into his arms. He considered forcing you down so he can explain, maybe fuck you so you feel good easily compliant. He needs you to give him a second, needs you to stop asking questions. 

"Uvogin? Is he a member? Feitan too?”

“Yes.”

Fuck. Your world’s collapsing, you’re certain of it.

“D-Did he kidnap his fiancé too? Did Feitan kidnap his girlfriend as well?"

"Baby it's complicated, and well Feitan hasn't exactly made her his- Shit... Saying it like that sounds bad but-"

"It is bad! I-I forgot? I swore I was here because I realized there wasn't anything for me at home.. I loved you and.. Do you actually love me?" Your eyes welled with tears, sudden realization came back over you. You grieved for past life once, how did you forget that?

"Baby I do love you, you're safe with me, promise. It's me."

"You're a murderer." You emphasized, horrified and unable to push yourself against the wall anymore if you tried, "How many people had their lives ruined because of the Phantom Troupe?"

"I.. don't know. A lot."

Conflicting emotions wash over your fragile mind. The man who crouched a foot away from you looked as if his world was shattering down around him, like he was terrified to lose you. Yet he was a thief, a killer, and you realized he wouldn't let you walk out that door regardless of what you decided.

"You lied to me. I don't know who you are."

"Y/N fuck, it's me, promise nothing about who I am is a lie, only my occupation. I love you, I'd do anything for you." You flinched as he moved to sit in front of you on the edge of the couch, taking your face between his palms even as you flinch, "You're safe with me, I promise."

"Phinks..." You sniffled, "I.." At the end of all things, did that matter? What Phinks did for a living? He'd been nothing but a loving, supportive partner. The whiplash hurts. Your chest felt heavy, your breathing was too heavy as if your air was cut off. You think you’re going to pass out as you reach for him, eyes blinking furiously. 

"Baby? Shit." He pulled you into his chest, rubbing your back in soothing circles, "Breathe for me, yeah? In. Out." You follow his orders, "Good girl, see?" 

One deep breath after another and you regained your senses, his eyes boring into you. 

"I need space tonight." You whimpered. 

"Yeah, that's fine, I know you need to think."

You rubbed your arms, "I'm going to lay down to sleep, alone tonight. If you could please clean up the kitchen and table."

"I-" Phinks went to argue, no way in hell would he let you sleep without him while he was home. But he knew he needed you to have time to think, even if it were an illusion or lie because he'd join once you were asleep. Paranoia was heavy in his mind, ever growing as he thought of her without him. Even not knowing what she was thinking was close to setting him over the edge. But he loosened his imaginary grip and nodded, "Of course."

Your home moved by you as if you were a zombie, legs heavy as lead as you closed the door to the master bedroom. Locking it. Then unlocking it. 

Sobs choked out. You clamped your hand over your mouth. Your legs gave out, back slid down against the door as your butt met the ground with a huff. Tears flooding once more, you let out a broken wail into your palms as you shoved your face into your flesh. Hugged your knees to your chest as painstaking agony pierced your limbs. You're gasping for air. Begging for a sense of relief. Crying that it hurts so bad. 

You could feel Phinks's aura on the other side of the door after fifteen minutes, knowing he was sitting with his back against the wood the same as you. An unknown force had you wanting to shove your fingers under the door to get a touch of him, wanting to already fling the door open and collapse into him. Were you really that pathetic? Already compartmentalizing the fact the man you loved was a killer? When Phinks had told you about his upbringing it'd pulled your heart strings, having to survive with no parents, no money, no home? How uncanny that his hints slowly made sense. Could you... even blame him?

Groaning through your heavy gasps as you couldn't stop weeping, you felt light headed. You sucked in air far too sharp that had you spinning, ready to topple onto your side.

With wobbly legs you force yourself to stand, clumsily making your way over to the king sized bed. Collapsing atop you stare off at the wall, wetness falling down to your eyes, to your mouth, dripping down your neck. Oh it hurts. How your head began to pulse with heavy stabs up against your temple. Lips quivered. You pulled the blankets tight letting your fingers twist and tangle within them, needing anything to ground you. 

Two questions spiraled. Would you really face the reality of your situation and that leaving a man like Phinks was smart? Or would you stay because you loved him? It alarmed you how easily you were willing to ignore Phinks was in the Phantom Troupe, that you'd already forgiven him. Forgive him? No, no, it wasn't you he needed to convince it was those he affected... which, deep down, you were glad he'd taken you. Because your kidnapping gave you a beautiful partner and life! Maybe you should tell him that! 

So as exhaustion and confusion overtook your trembling form, you were plunged into a restless sleep. One that played the same nightmare on repeat, the cycle of meeting Phinks to the kidnapping, to your life together, and to now. Stuck at a crossroads of swirling doubt manifesting in dark fog that would only come to fruition if you made a choice. Your dream-self, your heart, wanted to be selfish, wanted to head down the path to Phinks no matter what. While your brain told you it'd make you complacent, that it'd be ridiculous to stay with a man like him. That one day maybe you’d become a victim in the crosshairs. Before the morning sun streamed unto you forcing you awake, your dream-self chose a path. 

-

When you opened the bedroom door, stomach fluttering with thousands of butterflies that made you want to puke- to your surprise Phinks fell back, woken and onto his feet in seconds. He'd fallen asleep against the door, respected your decision to sleep alone which tugged on the depths of your heart. 

Gazes locked and it was a battle of who'd speak first, though you hoped he'd leave the ball in your court. Phinks looked... scared? His eyes low, heavy bags beneath them. You desperately wanted to brush his messy hair back, to reprimand him not to sleep on hardwood! And you almost reached up but caught yourself, he glanced down to your hand.

"I.." You wonder how bad you look. Wonder how bloodshot your eyes are, how puffy your face is. And if he noticed, "Lets talk?"

Phinks grunted his answer. He wasn't always a man of many words, it took months for him to be more open, so you'd hate for him to shut down on you now. 

You followed him downstairs, taking your places on the couch, an awkward space in between how your bodies turned to face the other. Phinks wanted to scoop you up to take all your troubles away, wanted to pepper your face with kisses until you'd cry of laughter. Didn't like how far you felt, a foot feeling like a mile. Even being able to hold your hand would have helped the torrential storm that raged within him; fear so strong he thought he couldn't breathe last night until he passed out in front of the bedroom. Like losing a piece of him that only you could complete.

You'd made up your mind that morning. 

Staring at your fingers you tell yourself it would be okay, that you could tell him everything you wanted to get out.

“I have a lot to say.”

“Alright.” His voice sounds strained as he cracks his knuckles, never breaking eye-contact.

“You know, I’m still mad you kidnapped me and won’t let me have contact with anyone I used to know.” Phinks eyes became unreadable, his jaw tense, fingers flexing as if it was the only way to push his anger away. “I told you about my new job opportunity way back when because I wanted to see if you’d want to come, which now I know wouldn't have worked. But also to see if you’d ask me out and give me a reason to stay, I knew after you took me on that garden tour even though you were clearly uncomfortable, that I’d fallen for you. It’s weird after all this time I never told you that.” Seeing the tension that’d built within him start to evaporate, eased your churning stomach. He looks better, suddenly getting back color in his cheeks, chest inhaling a large breath.

You continue, “I think.. I think I had and continue to have a hard time because my heart knows I’ve always loved you, but my brain wants me to keep remembering you technically kidnapped me, and that’s a horrible thing for a partner to do. That even now you’re dangerous to an extent I may never understand since you’re a spider. That you could hurt me one day. I register the anger in your eyes on phone calls, I see how often you flex or crack your fingers to stay sane if I did something you didn’t agree with. There’s cameras in every room. You’d monitored my body for weeks to make sure I wasn't self harming or losing weight. Had to sit in on all my showers. I remember hearing Feitan quip at you that you’re a hot head. I saw Uvogin’s fiance’s fear towards the news.”

Tears prick at your lash line as you attempt to wipe them away, sending Phinks the slightest of smiles you could muster, “And I now know it’s because you're scared something will happen to me because you've seen horrible sides to our world. You are a piece of that horrible side, the Phantom Troupe… You and your friends are considered a giant threat. Anyone who’s capable of the things you all are, have to have something off in the head, I’m sorry to say it like that. So I understand you now more than ever. But you’re still my Phinks. You rub my back at nights, you put things on a high shelf so you can laugh at me as I try to get it only to swoop in. You watch those horrible holiday romance movies because I love them and you’ll never admit you do too.”

“What are you saying?” He asked hoarsely. 

“I hope you don't want me to leave, I love you.” You say bashfully, pink dusting your cheeks.

Phinks never planned to let you leave. None of the outcomes in his mind consisted of it. But there you sat with a cute, happy face telling him you want to stay and be with him, thinking he was going to let you go if you asked. So Phinks lets out a sigh of relief knowing he doesn’t need to become the bad guy, he can let you think he’d have given you the autonomy to leave. Because you knew he loved you regardless of everything and you never considered other more darker options. You’re a softy, so innocent and naive, someone who cries at anything, and this further proves to Phinks you need him. 

The last two years this very conversation weighed on him. Knowing the day you found out about the Troupe your loving relationship would come to an end, you’d hate him. And then when he’d have to inevitably chain you up or threaten to break your legs to keep you from going anywhere, you’d despise him and yourself. You’d be petrified of him. 

But none of that was going to happen and Phinks is thanking whatever God is up there with his entire doomed soul. 

“I never want you to leave.” Phinks was across the couch, pulling you into a bruising kiss. His warm lips meshing with your own in a desperate dance as if one would disappear. A whine from the back of your throat made his heart race, made him melt like lava, all consuming that he couldn't stand the emotion that warbled through him. Like he could burst with the emotion of a thousand suns yet it still wouldn’t be enough to describe what you did to him. 

Before the kiss gets too intense to the point of no return as you feel your thighs rub together in want, you push at his shoulders. You stroke his cheek as you study his face memorizing each inch shaped from the gods themselves to you.

"I want you to tell me everything, okay. No lies, I want your real childhood, real everything that you changed to leave out the Phantom Troupe. And don’t hide the tattoo anymore."

"I can do that." He nodded fervently, squeezing your waist, “I love you with all I got, okay? Tell me you know that.”

“I do, I know.” You pull him in for a quick kiss, giggling as he attempts to deepen it, “Uh uh big guy. You have a lot of explaining to do before you get any of that.” 

He groaned, pressing a wet kiss to your neck, “I don’t know where to start babe.” 

“Well..” You think. “What do you… do? That’s not what I mean, so are you good with guns or something?”

“Ahh, I don’t think you understand Nen at all then if you’re askin’ that.”

“What’s Nen?” You cock your head, having zero idea what that three letter word meant. You hadn’t learned of it in school.

“Oh fuck me.” The mood he attempted to create to get your clothes off was ruined, but his genuine amusement makes him laugh, uncaring. He settled himself to get comfortable around your smaller frame, readying himself for a brutally open conversation with you. 

And as you two sat on the floor, Phinks relaying his story and the Phantom Troupes, you were glad you chose to stay even as you let him know you weren't happy every time he explained a heist. Because loving someone was the most important, at least you hoped that was enough. Because your heart couldn't fathom losing the blonde man who filled you, cared for you, protected you. You weren't sure if he'd survive losing you, or maybe it was the other way around. But you knew as he explained, that it didn’t matter at the end of the day, you wouldn’t be going anywhere. Not with the type of man he truly was with his work, dread consumed you, but you locked it away in the back of your mind.

-

MONTHS LATER

This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

One hand was shoved over your mouth, the other held to the wall for dear life. Your heart was in your throat as you listened to the different sets of footsteps outside. They’re talking but it wasn’t loud enough to hear, as much as you strained to listen. God you hoped they’d leave soon, decide this place was abandoned and move to the next. 

The day started out like any other, waking up besides Phinks, having to convince him to start the day by luring him into the shower. 

He attempted to make your coffee while you made pancakes. 

Then Chrollo called and the way his face dropped, you knew something bad had happened. The basis of newfound trust between you two was a fine line, probably would be for awhile. But for once you felt secure as he told you head on, he couldn’t tell you what was happening, because the stress he projected was more than usual. 

“Babe, why don’t we go out? There’s a farmer’s market on the other side of town, can find cute shit or something.”

“Really? Let me find something nice to wear!” 

Phinks held your hand as if he’d lose you in the crowd at any second. Even as you told him he needed to let up or else you wouldn’t have a hand for him to hold if he kept cutting off circulation. While the sudden outing was pleasant, you’d found a few fresh ingredients for cooking you had to have, Phinks was off. Knowing it had to do with his earlier phone call, you brushed it off.

While you hadn’t been to the market in quite some time, it’d never been this busy. Crowds of people pushed through to see the stall uncaring as they bumped shoulders. The sun beat down and without a cool breeze it was uncomfortably hot, you were itching for reprieve, something cold to drink perhaps. 

Your eyes caught sight of an ice cream storefront past the main square, just far enough to where not many people gathered. Perfect. You tugged on Phinks arm, your fingers still locked with his. It takes him a second to notice as he’s too intent on watching the crowd. Eventually he cocks a brow your way, nodding as you motion to follow. 

You (foolishly) assumed Phinks had you in his sights, had a hand on your back or something. You lived in a rose colored world with your boyfriend where you never needed to worry, so your hand slipping from him wasn’t of your concern, he’d have a handle on things. 

Panic strikes you, you whirled around desperately trying to spot Phinks. But you’re too short stuck in a group and suddenly everything feels like it’s a skyscraper around you, closing in as the air feels too heavy to breathe in. 

But then, “Babe.” You jump, a gasp leaving you as you ready yourself to shove someone away. But staring down at you with hands on your shoulders was Phinks, “Fucking hell, scared me.” Pulled hard against his chest, hearing his pounding heartbeat as his comforting scent washes over you- and you’re okay again. 

“L-Lost you. Didn’t mean to.” You whimper as you stare at him, fingers twisted into the material of his shirt. His features soften due to your terrified state. 

“I know, come on, let's get somewhere with less people.” 

This time Phinks is more aware of you than ever before, not taking any chances. Hypervigilant on the tightness of your grip, any time it loosened slightly his tightened. And this was why you needed him, you, so uncaring of dangers walking around with your head in the clouds. It’s as you go to wriggle yourself free to weave a sharp right, he acts.

“You don’t fucking let go of my hand.” He hissed, one hand firm on your shoulder while the other wrapped around your neck, you whimper from how tight his hold is. 

“S-Sorry, got distracted, saw something-”

“I don’t care, in public you know the damn rules.” As your bottom lip trembles, Phinks does his best to shove down his sudden raw temper, “Just- what if you get hurt? Or someone takes a liking to ya? Tell me if you wanna go somewhere all of a sudden, I can’t read your mind.” You nod, his gentler tone building back up your mood as he lets go of your frail neck. Your neck that he’d be able to snap faster than you could blink. 

Ten minutes later and you were sitting happily at a table with ice cream, Phinks sitting beside you with an arm tucked across the back of the private booth. He watches you with a faint smile, still coming down from his heightened senses when he lost sight and feel of you. And how quick he’d lost control, especially over an innocent situation. He pushed back pieces of hair as they fell from your updo, letting his fingers graze the soft skin of your face down to your neck, then to the collarbone he desperately wanted to mark. 

“So,” Phinks said, “Remember when I told you what actually happened to Uvogin’s fiance? How she’d been kidnapped by Hunters while sick?”

“Mhmm.” You hum, spooning strawberry soft-serve into your mouth.

“Guess uh- her name and picture got put on the Hunter database, as a missing person in danger so to speak.” You quirk an eyebrow as the look he gives you tells you not to say the obvious that well… Uvo did kidnap her. “Shal found your name with hers, but they only had an old pic of you, from when you were 14, I guess. This shit complicates things, there was talk of a group, lead by someone who worked with those obnoxious ass Hunters, saying they have possible locations on ya.”

As if on cue your fingers tremble, color drained from your cheeks, forcing you to place your ice cream down with a sudden drop. “Huh?”

“Shal wiped all the chats, the pictures and info. But right now, I don’t think it’s safe.”

“Phinks I don’t understand.” You can hardly hear the former bustle of the shop around you. A numbing high pitched tone starts up and your throat’s suddenly so, so dry. 

“That’s what Chrollo called me about this morning.” He waved his hand as if motioning to the prior call. Veins peeking out from his shirt are tense, you realize quickly he’s trying to keep his mood together for your sake, “Wanted us to come out and do something nice before we gotta leave for a few weeks.”

Your appetite- gone. A sour taste wipes the sweet strawberry one you’d been enjoying. “I-I don’t want to leave. I-”

“We’ll be back. Uvo and some others gonna handle it, throw them for some loops. Probably..” He stopped, “Kill them.”

At that point you were certain you were going to throw up on the table then and there. As total honesty was a part of your lives since finding out Phinks was in the Troupe, you’d asked for a gentler version of any details regarding a job. Hearing him speak of taking lives in a nonchalant way, never sat right. 

“Where do we have to go?”

“Meeting Shal outside the city, he’ll take us to Base. It ain’t bad, Uvo and the missus go there a lot, stayed there after we rescued her, maybe once before too. Primarily where I lived before you.” 

“Okay, do we have time to get some stuff?” You mentally began to race through the things you’d need for an extended time away.

“See, we don’t, so wish I thought of that before we left.”

“I swear to-” Phinks’s poorly timed laughter cut you off, “Glad my soon to be suffering because I won’t have my favorite pajamas is funny.”

The rendezvous with Shalnark turned into a shitshow. That was how you found yourself hiding in a closet in an old apartment complex, the furthest away place you found cover as nen (what Phinks called it, you think at least) brought the area to destruction. You can still hear the storm outside, the thunder boomed shaking the walls, the patter of rain. It came out of nowhere, along with all the people and crashing bricks of the buildings. 

People you don’t know were looking for you now. Even if it was a member of the Troupe you hadn’t met before, you were certain they’d say so, while the strange voices only yelled thinly veiled threats. You’re trying so hard to listen in, to gauge where people are, if they’re leaving or staying. Or even if a fakeout would be attempted. Staying put might be your best option, but you’re not fit for these situations! No experience, no self defense skills, just a girl with a racing pulse that might pass out any moment. You were one more crackling thunder away from just giving up. 

You wanted Phinks. You needed him. Praying for him to find you and make everything better, whisk you away and pretend this didn’t happen. What would these Hunters do to you? Would they listen if you tried to explain? Phinks said it hadn’t mattered for Uvogin’s girlfriend when she tried, so you assume right then that it wouldn't for you. One plan out the window. 

“Y/N!” You flinch each time your name is said by a voice you don’t know. Your stomach lurched. You pressed your hand against your lips harder. 

“I checked all these rooms, we should check the other apartments in this complex before we move on.” Another voice said, and you know what he said was a lie. They hadn’t checked in here or else they’d have found you behind boxes in the small closet. 

“Fuck this chase is getting annoying. I say we split before running into a Troupe member.”

“Yeah.” A new voice added in sounding further, “Those fuckers are scary strong, the infamous Zoldyck assassins don’t even fuck with them.”

“The big one took out Bates's entire team for his girl. I don’t want to end up like them. Dead, missing basically, no bodies ever found.” Retreating steps made you perk up. 

“If Y/N were here she’d probably be running to us for help, she isn’t here.”

You don’t dare move a muscle, but it’s so hard. You’re weak, cramping, emotionally crumbling, and unable to think of a viable plan. Minutes pass by like hours, time they continue to search getting so close but not close enough. A creaking door in the distance then a slam. Grating noises that sound all around. Playing with your mind, making you doubt your senses. And it hurts. Blood pounding in your ears and you don’t know how your stress isn’t enough to give you away to trained Hunters. 

An eerie silence. The hairs on the back of your neck standing talls, a chill down your spine. 

So you wait.

And wait. 

You count up to 60, then back down to 1. Then you do it again. And again. Your body screams at you to relax, you’ve balled up in the same spot for god knows how long now. Time was irrelevant to your plight when you couldn’t see outside your hiding spot. Had no way to tell if the men actually packed up and moved on, the rain was too loud to hear car engines starting to rev off. The silence was beginning to morph as your brain seemed to make noises that kept your heart racing like you couldn’t lose your wits, and you wanted to scream. 

Phinks will find you- he had to. He’ll find you. You keep telling yourself that as nausea rises up your throat, you gag against your sweaty palm. Eyes squeezed shut as they moisten. Maybe this was the world punishing you for being selfish and choosing to stay with Phinks after finding out his real occupation six months ago. Karma’s way of saying you deserved to suffer, to understand even a fraction of what your boyfriend’s victims went through. 

Your hand dropped from your mouth. You brace your palms against the floor, knees burning from how long they’d had to hold you up. Carefully, slow as could be you changed your position to sit back against the closet wall still behind a cardboard moving box. This is comfier at least, less awkward for your shaking limbs. 

Your head lulls. No no no. You suck in a sharp breath. Blood pressure dropped. Adrenaline crashing. Black crept into the crevices of your vision, slowly invading as you try to stay awake, begging yourself to do so. But you can’t give yourself away, not even as you go limp falling to the ground on your side with a thump.

-

A man sat bound and gagged, blood seeping from his empty eye sockets, fingers bent in unnatural positions. Kneecaps lazily removed, the bones absentmindedly feet away. He was lax because he bled out an hour ago, a thick gash along where his intestines would be. 

The next man who watched his coworkers torture, whimpers as he watched a short black haired man pick up a pair of pliers. 

“Where is Y/N?” He asked in his soft, yet sinister voice. Feitan’s dark eyes struck terror into the Hunter, who started to flail against the ropes. 

“D-Don’t know! No-None of us found her!” He begged, “You gotta believe me!” 

“I do.” Feitan shrugged, “Tell me where others are.”

There’s conflict in the Hunter’s eyes, like he weighed his options.

“Won’t say.” He finally said, tone defeated, he practically physically deflates knowing he’d be dying in the abandoned warehouse whether he said locations or not.

Blood seeped into the cement floor, a single bulb illuminating the room as it crackled. 

Feitan heard the approaching footsteps when they’d entered the building itself minutes ago. He waits, feeling a familiar aura. 

Phinks takes the sharp turn into where Feitan set up camp, distress and unkempt written all over him. The normal cool and collected (until pissed off) spider with a ridiculous pharaoh hat, was struggling. His heartbeat hadn’t settled in hours and he’d chugged most of the coffee Paku showed up with two hours ago.

Their prisoner won’t answer questions. Not even as he screeches, fingernails ripped out one by one. Not as he convulsed from the pain, a disgusting snap of breaking bones, blood spurting on his face. 

Phinks can only see red. He wants him dead. Dead. Dead. “Where the fuck is she?” He gripped the man’s cheeks, letting his fingers dig into his jaw, popping then the crack, gargled moans following. “Gone all quiet now, huh?” A maniacal grin pulls at his lips, his teeth brace and over, and over- again- and again- more- his fists pummel against flesh and organs. It’s when the prisoner is nothing more than a lump of mushed flesh does Feitan pull him off. 

Feitan smirked, “Got it all out?”

His knuckles burn, but the pain is nothing compared to the excruciating terror that’d made its home inside him. All Phinks can imagine is you tied up being transported between hunters as they mindlessly care for you, while under the pretense of helping. They wouldn’t care for your tears or pleas to let you go. He’s imagining them doing to you what Bates did to Uvo’s girl. How when they rescued her she’d been drugged up for months, bruised, with poorly stitched up gashes, and health deteriorating she couldn’t stand to walk. Phinks saw first hand how Uvo never left her side for the week she’d been unconscious with IV’s sticking in her veins. 

The thought of that happening to you makes his head hurt, sharp pulsating behind his forehead. He presses his fingers into his temple, prodding along his eyebrows for any sort of reprieve. Twisting anxiety, dense uncertainty gnawed at him. 

“Need to stay calm.” Feitan said, “Almost hear your thoughts.”

Phinks lets out a weighty exhale, shooting his ‘friend’ a glare, “I don’t know if she’s okay. I’m- supposed to protect her. This is fuckin’ ridiculous, these fucking Hunters are imbeciles.” It was getting out of hand, now the second Troupe member to have a partner taken by the same group. To Phinks, this had to be a declaration of war. And as he peers at Feitan who seemed deep in thought, he can tell the torturer felt the same, who had someone of his own too, “Your girl can be next, Feitan.”

“I know. Stop speaking.” Feitan spat, fingers involuntarily twitching. 

“We should go find Shal.” 

-

The rain had stopped; was the first thing you noticed as you groggily pushed yourself up. The air inside the abandoned room was sweet with the aftertaste of a storm, yet it made your head spin. Gathering your bearings you stare at the closet door as if it mocked you, dared you to open it.

You weigh your chances here, assuming you’d fallen asleep for one hour or ten, no one found you. And who’d wait that long to lure you out with malicious intent?

Legs wobble as you stand, they feel filled with lead as you approach your exit. Hand shaking as it grabs the handle, the thudding of your mind almost painful. Twisting. Opening. The hinges didn’t creak and you’re now staring at an empty room. The same as when you entered. Shit. The window shows you it’s night now, not mid afternoon anymore. All the heavy dark clouds were gone leaving the dark sky clear and dazzling with stars. 

Hugging your arms taut around yourself for warmth, you know what you need to do. You need to be strong and begin to make your way out, see if you can get to a phone or find someone willing to take you into the city. That was risky but you were desperate. And with the amount of nooks and crannies of the dilapidated buildings that once were a vibrant living compound, there was always going to be oversight. Maybe getting outside would help Phinks and the other members find you. 

You're somehow at the bargaining stage of grief and you almost laugh at how ridiculous you sound. Trying to stay quiet as a mouse while imagining dozens of scenarios, when you probably needed to be on the lookout. With each hall you walk through, you strain your ears for signs of life. As your weight shifts on floorboards and steps, if they make a sound you're frozen as you wait. But nobody came each time. It’s safe.

The exit to the entire building is finally in sight. You begin a slow descent of the stairs, still doing your best to be diligent. 

But it’s the sudden rush of voices, that has you screeching to halt practically holding your breath. 

“Per GPS maps, these two complex buildings are all we have left.” That voice. You recognize its higher tone, like it held a cheery imposition even at the large task at hand. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” Another familiar voice. Their feet crunched on the gravel outside. 

“Nobu said no sign of the cars that peeled out earlier, not sure whether they decided being alive was better or if it's because they have Y/N.” 

“Why can’t I just start screaming her name loud as possible? She’s gotta know it’s me.”

“Uvo she’s probably terrified and you’ll manage to burst her eardrums. You know your girl is safe at home while Phinks is losing it right now.”

Uvogin. Shalnark. Faking their voices would be too elaborate of a hoax for anyone.  

“He on his way over?”

“Him and Feitan, yes. Others are tracking the rogue vehicles.” 

Phinks was on his way. Your chest blossomed in joy, you could weep happy tears as your body felt a million times lighter. Relief coursed through your veins and you went back to going downstairs. 

But what you hadn’t realized in all this time was your body struggled from the temperature drop. Your teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. The sundress you’d adorned did nothing to protect you when you laid unconscious in the closet. Your lips tinted purple. Your face flushed from the chill. The tips of your fingers numb. But all you felt was the anxiousness, the hiked pulse, and your fears rather than worry about your physical state. 

Shalnark spots you first, your meek trembling form with reddened skin appearing through the doorway like a ghost. He’s on you as he strips his jacket to get it around your shoulders. He’s checking for injuries before you're scooped up into bulking arms of a giant who exuded heat. You can’t speak, only nodding as Shal throws questions your way. The surrounding area is blurry, you squint for any sign of Phinks. But you could barely see Uvo, who was the one carrying you as you looked up. 

A commanding presence makes you subconsciously relax.

“Shal what- Y/N- Thank fuck,” Phinks is out of breath, filled with desperation as he raced to you, his heart plummeting when he saw you all small in Uvogin’s arms. Like your whole world is back on its proper axis, you’re trying to reach for him but you only muster up a whine in recognition. 

Uvogin hands you to Phinks, who cradles you in his strong hold as they take off to the car sitting idle. His touch sets you aflame as you begin to tear up, babbling nonsense into the crook of his neck, now wet from your tears.. 

“I got you.” Phinks whispered in your ear as he studied your face whilst his hands felt every inch of you. Needed to feel every inch as reassurance. Your smile is loopy, your eyes so distant as you reach to stroke his cheek. “Safe now, okay?”

The sky moved by fast, but you’re not paying enough attention. Having to will your heavy eyelids to remain open, so you can continue to look at your boyfriend. Taking in his severe face that was littered with worry.

You’re tucked into Phinks’s body as he holds you so tight, murmuring sweet nothings as you try to engage. You try to appreciate his roaming hands as they stroke along your neck, squish your cheeks in comfort; and as a way to remind himself you’re okay, he has you. A piece of you isn’t even hearing his words, nor the conversations taking place amongst Troupe members in the car. 

You couldn’t stop shivering even as heat blasts from the vents and as different articles of clothing had been offered up to cover you. Or as Phinks tries to rub your bare arms to generate heat. 

“Babe you can sleep, s’okay.” Phinks said, and you realize his eyes are bloodshot. His heart still hammered against you and you physically feel the fear he had and now the relief that now swirled around him. 

“Are you- okay?” You ask, concerned for him. 

Your question clearly threw him off but he shakes his head, slightly amused you were thinking of him after everything you went through, “I’m good, I got you back. I don’t want to think about what could have happened, thought I was losing my mind trying to find you.”

“I ran, I didn’t know what to do.” You sniffled, shuddering as you remembered the chaos, “Ran up some stairs, found a closet and hid. I was so scared I thought I was going to die and eventually my body gave out. I woke up and it was night.”

His gaze softens, before he leans down to kiss your cool lips, lingering before moving to peck your forehead, “We’re heading to Base now and we’ll get you warmed up.”

You cling to the blonde as if you’d be swept away any second. In and out of sleep for the drive, uncertain of the day or time at this point. It’s with the glint of orange rays that you’re alert to sunrise as the car comes to a halt. 

“I can walk.” You try to say to Phinks but he’s having none of it, sweeping you up bridal style before your feet even had a chance to touch the ground after the car door opened. 

“Babe stop, no reason for you to exert yourself. You can rely on me.” His lips press to the top of your head, the sound of him inhaling your scent as a comfort makes you shiver. 

You weren’t sure what to expect in a Base for the spiders, but a sprawling warehouse that just peaked above the surface level was not it. It has large, empty and tattered looking windows, run down and well- maybe that was to be expected for a group of criminals. Phinks carries you to a path and makes his way down a set of stairs that descend down to a single rusted door. 

You’re not sure if you really understood a wink of Nen when Phinks explained it months ago, or when you’d ask him questions. You’re not sure if it's some form of magic as when you two enter, it’s like stepping into a portal. From the outside looking in it would be expected to see continued dilapidation; rotted furniture, mold, rodents, general disarray of buildings left for time to handle. Yet what you see as the entry door opens to a platform with a metal staircase going down, was a perfectly normal space. Decorative pillars and art (surely stolen) haphazardly on the walls, with rugs in peculiar places. A long table for 12 was the grand room centerpiece. And from Phinks’s arms you see multiple doorways that must branch off into other spaces of the hideout, for a second you forget this belonged to criminals as you wonder if he’d let you explore. But that reality goes out the window when Phinks sets you down in a chair and you catch sight of Feitan entering from outside. He’s covered in blood and you’re nauseous at the sight. 

You look away, attempting to focus on the tiled floor, counting the squares you can see. Your legs are covered in goosebumps and as you feel along your arms, they are too.

“I’ll be right back.” Phinks pats your head and you want to cry out for him not to walk away from you. Leaving you as a fish out of water in a new place, an intimidating place where his friend who’s covered in blood watches you from the corner. Bookshelves line empty spaces, which most of the shelves are in disarray but present collections look ancient. 

You think it’s been five, maybe seven minutes since Phinks left the room, but you’re becoming antsy. Anxiety claws at you as you want him near, want to touch him and see his face to know everything’s okay. 

“Hey,” When you look up, the familiar face of Uvogin’s fiance greets you. She stands there looking frail, adorned in jeans and a sweater, but giving you a warm smile. 

“Hey, how are you?” You stammer out, the sight of her making you more nervous than calm. She takes a seat across from you at the grand table. 

She shook her head, “I should be asking you that. You okay? You’re not hurt are you?”

“I’m not physically, just… scared and now really cold.”

Her eyes went wide, “Oh would you like my cardigan?” But you stop her by holding up your hands before she can touch a button, “If you’re sure.” 

You hadn’t seen her since the day you found out about Phinks being in the Phantom Troupe, even though she resided literally next door. You’d slowly learned that while Phinks allowed you the ability to go out, Uvogin did not allow it for her. At least he stopped, though you aren’t sure why. Health? 

“I’m sure, thanks.” You want to say it’s because she looks like she’d need the extra body heat, that she shouldn’t look so malnourished.

An awkward silence falls over you and her, only Feitan’s faint shuffling breaking it up. You’re curious, sometimes too much for your own good and there’s suddenly a million questions at the tip of your tongue but you wonder if you should ask. Phinks gives you leeway because you accepted him full-heartedly, you wonder if she despises Uvogin’s work or something along those lines. 

“Are you-” Her glower makes your mouth snap shut. And it’s when Feitan tells you two to behave with a cackle as he leaves, does she lean in. 

“Why didn’t you run?”

“What?” You ask. Your stomach flutters with something unknown. 

“This was the best chance you ever could have had- more than…” She sighs, “Since my health’s not getting any better, I feel more awake than I ever have before about- life..” 

You’re confused. Her eyes look glazed over, you chalk her whimsical mood up to her illness, “I don’t fully understand… Sorry.” 

“You know Feitan carved his name into a girl's ribcage? Keeps her locked up in his attic. And you know where she’ll probably be in a year? Sitting here with us acting like a good dutiful lover.”

“Stop.” Your mind races as your pulse begins to climb up. And up. Fingers go numb as a tingling spreads along your limbs, “That- I don’t have stockholm syndrome.” 

She shrugged, “I might have it, might not. You can’t truly know either.”

“I loved him before he took me.”

“Does he let you have free reign of a phone?” You shake your head for ‘no,’ “What about, can you talk to old family or friends.” You don’t answer. “Cameras in every room? Constantly panicked if he can’t see or hear from you within seconds?”

“Would you… Want a new life away from Uvo?” Whether it was fear or anger that caused you to ask it, the pounding of your heart made you snap her.

“No. I’m content, I don’t know how much longer I have anyways. He’s in denial about it.” She seemed morose at the thought of her death, like she didn’t care, like her current life wasn’t worth fighting for. Just sitting there waving her hand in a simple gesture, “I guess I selfishly, while I’m alive, want to see one of them suffer like they’ve made others suffer. Like if Phinks lost you today.” You squirm at her words, “I know Uvo may not recover when I die, so guess it’ll be karma enough for his actions.”

“Don’t you love him though?”

“Does it matter? I had a tiny crush on him before he took me, the big strong stranger that tried to make me laugh when he tried my creations at the bakery.” She pauses and the quirk of her lips doesn’t slip past you as she recounts a good memory, “But, it doesn’t mean I wanted to be taken away or that it was okay. He killed someone in front of me then re-routed my life. I can look at you right now and say I’m irrevocably in love with Uvo because I am, at least my heart and body completely are. My brain always wants to be around him until it reminds me of who he is. That only started after he rescued me from my second kidnappers, same ones who tried to nab you. It isn’t logical to love someone who does all that yet, I do? Weird psychological stuff but… That’s all I want to say Y/N, don’t forget who these men really are. They’re no better than the Hunters with hero complexes trying to drag us to ‘safety.’ None of it is for our best interest. Because if it were, then both parties have left us the hell alone.”

“Just… Who’s the lesser evil?” You whisper.

“Precisely, and after what I went through with those Hunters, it appears the Phantom Troupe is the better choice, for me at least.” 

You agree, cringing at the memories of the way the Hunters talked about you in the abandoned building while you hid. Nothing about them was kind or willing to lay their lives down to protect you. This was an ego boost for them, bragging rights to say they fooled the spiders. That taking you and her were like trophies to boast about.

Uvogin’s fiance suddenly stood up, her chair almost knocking completely back. She brushed her hands off along her jeans. Clearing her throat, she speaks to you one last time-

“Ah, sometimes I say such strange things when I don’t feel well, sorry about that.” She smiles like a flip switched before she heads towards an entryway, you guess it leads to wherever Uvogin is. 

You nod, “Of course.” But your eyes exchange something far deeper, more meaningful and you know you’ll keep her words private. An understanding that left you feeling comforted in an odd way. And yet a part of who hates her for dragging you out of your rose colored world. But she was right. Even as a sour taste scratches the back of your throat to admit such a thing.

An unsettling feeling settles itself in your stomach, you think if you have to sit at the table any longer you’ll go mad. Like a ball of twine was slowly unraveling, you want out of the room where you partook in such a strange conversation. And the fact you’re still cold, though your teeth stopped chattering during the car ride. 

Technically, Phinks never said to stay put so you aren’t doing anything wrong by trying to find him. Technically. He’d walked down the hall behind you so you figure you’d run into him eventually. 

Your legs ache with each step, painful stabs against the bottom of your feet as you begin the trek. It felt like a maze the second you left the main room, the only light present from lamps every few feet flush with the ceiling. ‘Spooky,’ You think to yourself, hugging your arms close. 

The first door you pass is shut firmly. No sense of what could be behind it. You linger for a few moments debating whether or not to knock, but the lack of light from underneath deterred you. 

Taking a sharp turn, you practically collide face first into what felt like a wall, but when you looked up– Phinks.

“Babe, what’ya doing?” You don’t have time to argue as he’s picking you up, “You shouldn’t be walking around.”

“Wanted to find you.” You pout. Though as you cradle the side of his face, the earlier conversation slowly replays at the back of your mind.

Phinks noticed the slight drop in your face but chalked it up to the long day you’d had, “I was coming to get you.” Nuzzling your face into his collarbone you take a deep breath, letting his touch center you. Being against him in your state, getting a smidge of his body heat had you on fire for him, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt as he started walking back the way he came. 

Exhaustion nudges its way back unto you, a yawn eliciting to show as much. You want to keep track of the path he takes, a right and then a left- then… You aren’t sure. The halls look the same but he eventually nudges an ajar door open. 

“Alright, here we are.”

The room was fairly big but rather plain. As Phinks sets you down on the bed, handing you a change of clothes, you realize- this was his room. Simple furniture scattered about but strewn magazines of things he was interested in forgotten on a coffee table. An alarm clock that matched the one at home that had a layer of dust on the nightstand. Some art, definitely random pieces he probably didn’t care to have.

“This is your room isn’t it?”

“Yep. Needed to clean up, dust coated fucking everything been months since I last stayed.”

“Why..?”

“If I’m ever beaten up after a job-” He explained, “I don’t want you to see that. But with you to go home to, there's no reason to be here. Wasn’t bad for the bachelor life.” 

It’s nice to learn something new in that respect, to see something that’s been a piece of his life first hand. Soreness screams through you as Phinks helps you undress to slip on the heavy sweats and hoodie. A mound of blankets pulled over you next, you cuddle happily into the new warmth that spreads over you, almost as if you’d never been in that abandoned closet. 

You wait for him as he changes, admiring the way his back muscles flexed, “You’re coming to bed, right?”

“What a dumb question, babe. Need to hold you after this fucking day.” 

“I want you to stay by my side.”

His weight sinks into the bed, and he repositions so you can slot yourself against him. God he loved how small, weak you were compared to him. His fragile little girl he needed to treat like glass when all he wanted to do was fuck you into the mattress. Having to hold his urges back for your sake was the right thing to do though. He can’t scare you after the day you’ve had while all he wants to do is relish in your body because the adrenaline high he’s coming down from fucking hurts. So close to losing you. So close to understanding the anger and sadness they put others through when the troupe kills their loved ones. It’s a strange sensation really, to even think about empathizing, but after the day you two have had, he doesn’t care. Just wants to hold you in his chest as your breathing slows. Wants to squeeze the plush of your skin to remind himself you’re his. His. No one else's. Not the Hunters who think they’re the saviors of the Phantom Troupe’s women. 

God he wished he could make all your thoughts of everything and everyone else but him go away. 

“I love you.” Your tired voice, sleep about to drag you under, makes him melt inside.

“I love you too.” He says back, since he knows he loves you in his own fucked up way. A way you probably wouldn’t understand, would probably be scared of, “I’ll keep you warm tonight, you’re safe.” Right now he knows what you need to hear. 

“I was so scared I’d never see you again.”

Good. It’s secured in Phinks’s mind that you never thought to run away from him having had the perfect chance to. Hours he couldn’t find you- you could have gotten back to town and jumped ship in that time. Yet you stayed in your little hiding place hoping for him to save you. You’re just so cute. And he’s lucky to have someone who relies on him so heavily. That made his chest burst with dark possessiveness over you. Not that there’s anyone left to take you from him. Every Hunter who’d been there was now dead, even the ones who left by car, with all that’s left to find the remaining stragglers involved with this effort. If more came out of the woodwork to take you after trying with Uvo’s girl, he’s sure there’ll be more eventually. 

He soon drifts off thinking of you in tears, sobbing for him as he splits you apart on his cock. Sobbing that he’s ‘too big’, that you’re ‘too full’, and begging for him to stop- but gods he won’t stop not when you’re broken like that with big red eyes and wet skin from the pleasure turning to pain. And he won’t stop, never does, until you’ve gone dumb in the head drunk off his cock and filled with his come like you need it to breathe. And Phinks knows as his consciousness slips away, that his little daydream will become reality come morning time because he’s not a good man. Because a good man wouldn’t fuck his girl to break her poor little mind, to make her fall apart into tiny pieces so he could be the one to put her back together again. To get her nice and reliant. Especially not after a traumatic event. But you should know by now that he’s not good.

[hotnbloodied]

Yan!Cheater X Reader

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

TW: cheating, implied stalking, kidnapping, physical violence, confinement.

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

You were with Marshall for about three years now, everything seemed to be going fine. At least, that’s what you thought. You two had met back when you were starting out as a bartender. Honestly, maybe if you listened to your coworkers about how he was at the bar all the time and took people home regularly it would have been the first red flag, but you were too naive at the time. Not to mention that the more you think about it now, the more you realize that he always seemed to know what to say, sweet honeyed words, charming smiles, small gifts. You felt like you wanted to throw up, the two of you were even talking about starting a family for crying out loud!

So imagine your horror when you decided to stop by his apartment since you got out of your, now corporate job, early to get dinner started for him and found clothes scattered throughout. Bursting into his bedroom you found him and a person you didn’t recognize both naked in his bed. After telling both of them to fuck off you stormed out of his apartment and blocked his phone number and socials. Funny thing you realized is that he didn’t know where you lived. Since in all the time you two were together there was never a time he stepped foot in your house.

At first it was hard on you, you used to care for Marshall all the time and you grieved the time you spent on him. But after the week or so of angst that you allowed yourself, you started doing better. You had more time to yourself and more freedom. You even started accepting your coworker’s invitation for drinks. But just when you thought that you found a good groove to yourself the phone calls started.

‘babe plz take me back’

‘I miss u’

‘Y did u block me????’

‘U r NOTHING w/o me!!!’

You were startled to say the least, but you knew him (right?) There is no way a proud person like him would cause a scene that would make him look crazy… (would he?) So imagine your surprise when you were heading out of work only to be grabbed by Marshall. You almost didn’t recognize him since usually styled hair was greasy and messy, his face which was usually pristine looked rough and there were a couple of breakouts, his clothes that he meticulously planned were nowhere to be found but instead he wore loose fitting mismatched pieces.

If you saw him first you might have been able to steer clear of him, but alas, he saw you first and grabbed your arm. “Please take me back!” He sobbed. “I feel so empty without you!” You cringed and tried pulling back your arm, “hey, let go of me. You’re the one who wanted to backstab me.” He gripped tighter, making you wince a bit, “I promise I’ll be better! I’ll pay attention to no one else but you! I’ll think of no one else but you! Look! I even deleted all my contacts!” He attempted to take out his phone with only one hand but you didn’t care if it was true. “Let go of me you fuck!” You swung your arm trying to break free, it was until a coworker saw the bind you were in and stepped in. Separating the two of you and knocking Marshall down. “Leave me alone, or I’ll call the cops next time!” You yelled at his fallen form.

Marshall looked up at you and started laughing, it was slow at first but turned maniacal quickly. “I see how it is, have fun with your new boy toy while it lasts! I’ll get you back.” He clumsily stood up and left hastily. Your co-worker asked if you were okay and  you thanked him for his help. He told you that you should probably go to the police station to make a statement but you brushed him off. Oh how stupid of you.

One particular late night after working late you were walking home, until you suddenly blacked out. You awoke to a throbbing pain in your head, vision blurry and unable to move your body freely. “H-huh?” “Welcome home darling!” Through your haze, you saw Marshall. He looked better than the last time you saw him but something wasn’t right. You suddenly realized that you were in a situation so you looked around the room and you saw pictures of you scattered everywhere from the ceilings to the walls and even some on the floor. “Where… am I?” He scoffed, “home! Do you like the pictures?” He giggled, “it wasn’t until after you left did I realize that I didn’t have enough photos of you. Which reminds me!” He took out his phone and started snapping pictures of you while in your state of being restrained and confused in an unfamiliar bed. You looked so alluring to him, so much so that it got him a little too excited that even you could see it.

“Marshall, let me go! I won’t press charges.” “Oh that’s right that you won’t press charges, cause you will never be able to! I’ve prepared this cage for you, my pretty bird. And I'm not going to let the only good thing that was a part of my life leave me... ever again.”

[liliewrites]

Omg! Omg! Omg! Hiiii!!

*waves the flag aggressively* 🇵🇭🇵🇭🇵🇭🇵🇭

It's nice to see fellow pinoy here! :DD

I hope summer is treating you well! Is it okay if I request a bassist! Arlecchino and photographer! Reader? I feel like they would be such a cute pair, and imagine if they're in uni or high school and the reader is part of the student publication as a photographer journalist and the school has an event and she would just take dozen pics of arle (not in a creepy way) while she's playing for the School band, omg that would be so cute!

HELLOOOOO OMGG KABABAYAN?? HAHAHAH HALLOO:DD but yes i can see the vision hihi this is so cute, u bet i'll b writing this i love high school teenage sapphics they're so stupidly cute uwahjdwas this is giving mitsuki koga x aya oosawa/marceline x pb/himari kino x yori asanagi vibes i keep gushing about it.

-warning/s ; none, just silly girls in love:D also, i'll be using arlecchino's childhood name to make it less fictiony-ish. i hope all of u don't mind:D also peruere is a cute name..

-pairing/s ; arlecchino x fem!reader

(men please dni utc)

you'd never admit it, but you were one of those who had a crush on that popular bassist from the local band at your school, nuit rouge.

peruere snezhevna. even her name rolled off your tongue in such a smooth manner. she was beloved all around campus, especially amongst the women as she had such that cool and handsome appeal to her. she was tall, smart, athletic and a bassist with that apathetic cool guy charm to her like in those silly little shoujo animes-- you'd never admit it, but you were a victim of her charms as well. why? well, obviously because she has more than enough admirers already, she'd never notice you. so you decided to just lay low in the background and admire her secretly.

whenever your friends all gush about said bassist, you try to act as uninterested as possible, like you don't know nothing about her. "per.. per who?" you'd ask while looking at your phone just to make your friends stop talking about her to you. like your silly little crush on her, you'd never admit it (even to yourself), but you felt annoyed to hear other girls talk about her.

however, you were part of the school's journalism club, and your assigned category was photojournalism, making you the campus' designated resident photographer. as duty calls, you were tasked to take photos for the upcoming foundation day event. you had to listen to the writers' requests, as it was your task as well to catch the photos they'll be using for their assigned part in the school paper.

right now, you were with one of the news writers, charlotte, taking photos of her and the said local school band. you can remember your good friend's words before she dragged you here before you could even say a thing, "oh, y/n! y/n! come on hurry! i have to interview nuit rogue before the others do, covering them is my one way ticket to the paper's front page!"

so like the good photographer you are, you silently stood in the back, taking photos (with the band's consent, of course) while they talked with charlotte. it was mostly wriothesley who did the talking though.

as you peaked through your camera's lens, maybe you were crazy- but you thought you saw peruere staring back at you. flustered, you looked away for a little, pretending to take a photo of something else (which you probably looked like an idiot doing so, as everyone knows you're taking photos of the band, why were you pointing your camera at the wall?). when you looked back, peruere was talking now, her gaze back on charlotte.

with a breath of relief, you went back to capturing photos of the said band. the lens of your camera lingering on the bassist a bit too longer than you noticed, but she did.

eventually, the time for them to perform had come, just right after lure and 5WIRL. you had the freedom to roam around the stage to take photos, so you did- as your friend charlotte had urged you to do.

you were currently kneeling in front of the stage to hide your presence a bit, letting your camera do it's thing while they perform. multiple names were being screamed, but you were only focused on one thing-- on peruere on your camera.

"kyaaa! childe! look my way, please!"

"wriothesley!! you're so cool!"

you didn't mind their continuous screaming, you were just in the middle of the audience and the band. of course you'd hear all their fanchants and calling of their names. you continued looking through your camera's lens, focusing on peruere that right moment to capture perfect photos of the band members.

"aaaaaaaa, it's the knave! she's so handsome!"

-- for some reason, your ear started to ring in an annoying way, so you quickly and silently walked away from the crowd.

moments later, charlotte grabbed your camera from you to look at the photos. "oh, y/n.. what would i do without you??" she exclaimed, smiling at the photos in your camera. "these photos are all good.. but why are they mostly focused on that.. the knave girl?" she asked and your eyes widened, oh crap- you forgot to hide the other photos you took of her for.. for educational purposes, of course.

quick, y/n! think of a stupid excuse!

"uhm- well, she's famous.. i just thought it'd be good to capture a few extra shots of her." you lied, which charlotte bought almost immediately, much to your relief. "hm, you have a point! she is quite famous amongst the ladies.. i might make a cover story about her!"

you went home after that day, going through the photos in your camera.. to study how you caught the photos this time, of course. you know.. see how you can improve and all, to see your flaws and mistakes. definitely not to look at the photos of peruere that you took.

anyway, you looked at it, and you couldn't help but feel that silly little pang! pang! in your chest. she looked so.. cool. that serious expression on her face as her fingers plucked the string of her bass, you could remember the scene playing vividly in front of you- sweat dripping down her forehead, with her looking down at the fretboard and back at the audience, before singing a few lines.

"y/n, honey! are you in there? it's time for dinner!"

"crap- mom, don't you know how to knock?! i almost dropped my camera!"

you froze for a second, chest heaving from being startled. it wasn't a lie that you almost dropped your camera.

"my bad, dear. you weren't answering.. so i thought you were asleep."

you sighed, looking at your mom apologetically for shouting at her. you placed down your camera and went with her anyway, joining her and your siblings for dinner.

the next day, oh, archons-

the next day was annoying as hell. charlotte's interview with nuit rogue was on the front page as expected, and the three members were the talk of the town once again. you could hear their names buzzing all throughout campus. one of your friends came running to you, oh great, you immediately knew what would be the first thing that'd come out of their mouth.

"y/n! did you see peruere yesterday? she was so coool! surely, you did! you must think she's so cool now, right??"

called it. you sighed, walking with her with a forced uninterested face. "yeah. i was the photographer, of course i'd get to see their performance. upclose, even." you told her, earning you an envious pout and a hit to the shoulder from your friend. "no fair! ugh, you're so lucky.."

were you even? you just got to see her upclose. not like you were able to talk to her. not like she was able to notice you anyway.

you shrugged your friend's whims away and continued on with your day.

you went through your first few classes just as usual, and now you're currently in the comfort room to wash your hands before eating. minding your own business, you were startled when you heard someone talk behind you.

"excuse me, are you.. are you y/n? the photographer..?"

you look behind you and you felt like your heart would once again jump out of your heart (willingly) at the sight of her, peruere. you slowly nod, not exactly sure if you could spit out words. ".. do you hate me?" she asked, much to your surprise. you almost choked on your own spit, hearing that.

"n-no! no no no, i don't.. why- where did you get the idea??"

you panicked, you were nervous at the thought of her thinking that you disliked her when it was really the opposite and the girl in front of you looked somewhat relieved, but she stared at you with curiosity and worry.. but you convinced yourself you were hallucinating. no way, why would she be worried?? "at the foundation day, you were glaring at me. i was just wondering since then if i've ever offended you." she told you, making you almost choke on your spit the second time, where was she getting these ideas??? "p-peruere, no! i wasn't glaring at you.." you exclaimed, leaning back as she leaned in closer, as if studying your face. you looked away, a bit flustered. "peruere..?" you asked, and she sighed as she leaned back again.

"i'm not buying it. you can't even look at me. please, let me make it up to you."

she held out her hand, holding tickets in front of you. "let's go watch a concert together. my treat."

you felt as if your legs had turned to jelly at her words- your crush was offering you to go watch a concert together?? and you were quick to refuse, embarrassed. "no, no! peruere, it's fine. i'm not ma-"

"no, i insist. i'll see you on saturday. send me your location and i'll come pick you up."

she grabbed your hand, placed the tickets in your palm, closed it and smiled at you. maybe you were crazy- but you felt as if she held your hand for a long, long, stupidly long time (she was).

"i don't like it when i offend people, miss y/n. so let me, okay?"

you were just- just taken aback at this point. you felt like you were dreaming. ".. okay, peruere. i uhm, thank you.." you told her. she nodded at your words in approval. "okay. i'll see you around, miss y/n." she politely excused herself and you just realized that she had just let go of your hand when she left.

now you were in bed. staring at the tickets in your hand.

your crush really asked you to go to a concert with her.

it was hard for you to wrap you lovestruck mind around it, and you started rolling around in your bed and kicking your feet like a madman.

"peruere- she really invited me!"

you exclaimed in your pillow, blushing and squealing. in the midst of your screaming and feet kicking fangirling session. your phone buzzed and you immediately picked it up.

@perrie_knave followed you.

@perrie_knave sent you a message.

your eyes widened and you immediately felt like you were about to explode.

what the hell are you going to reply??

a/n ; u win, anon. i love this concept so much. i'm going to start planning. a oneshot isn't enough to justify this. i need silly little girls falling in love. does anyone want to see a socmed au of this?? oh who cares, i'm doing it anyway.

[yan-lorkai]

Can I request a part 2 of Sebastian's S/O accompanying him on contracts? Maybe sebastian gets a bit upset/jealous because Y/N has acted like a parent to Ciel recently by reading him bedtime stories and things like that.

Y/N tells Sebastian. "Darling, when was the last time our room was checked for cats?" And Sebastian realizes what Y/N is doing. (I might arguably like cats more than Sebastian)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: This is such a cute rq 🥺🤭, I loved writing this tbh. Hope u like it too, darling and sorry for the huge delay hehe!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warning: Yandere content, implied possessive thoughts, biting and kissing, angst if you squint bcs Ciel. Possible typos.

The clock ticks tick-tock, tick-tock incessantly. The soft sound wouldn't bother the demon on any other night, but today the sound drags on and on, the hands dancing rhythmically, over and over. On any other night, Sebastian would have you beside him as your fingers comb his raven hair and he leaves soft kisses over your cheek and forehead and lips.

Sebastian is not a jealous demon, at least he thinks so. Considering the way other demons treat their partners like precious jewels and lock them away to protect them from the world, Sebastian makes sure he gives you enough freedom and cares for your happiness enough that you always come back to his arms at the end of each night. Except a week ago, as soon as the day's business is over and everyone retires to their rooms, you don't return to him - not right away, anyway.

And your thirty minutes late makes him uneasy, he needs his mate by his side. He needs you in his arms to finally feel relax from the routine. And yet, you'd rather go to the young master's room and read to him every night - a ritual you started a week ago.

A week when Sebastian has to stand longer and watch you read Ciel children's books and fluff his pillows before retreating with an almost parental smile. As an observer, Sebastian can only speculate on the reason for your odd behavior - surely you don't want children, you would have said so. But what if that's the way you found to express that desire and he didn't realize it? His head is full of "what ifs".

He moves to close the windows and curtains as you sit in the armchair next to Ciel's bed and open a book. The demon's reddish eyes find their way to the boy's rosy face, annoyed and uncomfortable, so alien to the small, simple moments a child should have. Sebastian could almost feel sorry for him if the scent of his soul wasn't so good and tempting.

'You are cruel', Sebastian thinks. You are cruel when you read to him, making funny and different voices, expressing the events of the books through exaggerated gestures, even though Ciel asks - asks, but doesn't order - that you stop. You are cruel when you smile and lean in to pinch the earl's rosy cheeks, yet he flinches from the contact as if his skin is burning.

You're cruel when Ciel's eyes close, but you keep holding one of his hands, pretending not to notice the slight tremor and stiffness because he's afraid you'll disappear and this new routine will end. You are cruel when you lean down and kiss his forehead, cover him with his warm blankets and ruffle his blue hair before sighing and placing the book on the desk, sending a cunning look at Sebastian.

The same look as when you found out you were soul mates and kissed him fiercely, the same look as when you said you would accompany him and be by his side. Sebastian loved that look. He was weak for that look.

Your movements are full of elegance as you beckon him with your index finger as you leave the earl's room, taking his hand in yours as you walk slowly back to your room. The ticking sound fades away, saving Sebastian from a growing headache now that he has you by his side.

"Darling, would you mind clarifying something?" He asked once you were back in the safety of your room, wrapping his arms around you like you were the most precious thing to him.

You let yourself be guided to the bed, laying your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. A great weary sigh leaves your lips as you feel the warmth and security emanate from your loved one's arms, wanting more, wanting to be closer, wanting to be embraced by his essence. It was almost impossible to put into words how right it was for you to be there.

After a few seconds, you open your eyes and face him with a small smile, almost as if you know the confusion he felt and the thoughts he had. And you probably could, soul mates, especially supernatural soul mates, could share a lot of things: feelings, thoughts, memories, learnings, it was an almost unconscious process, but you were a sneaky little thing and he's sure you could figure out how to get into his mind.

"The reason why I started reading for Young Master?" You ask, turning to cup Sebastian's face in your hands carefully, placing several small kisses all over his face. And he nods, making a smile grow on your lips.

"Why, my love, reading to him is like playing with a puppy." You think, remembering the furtive glances, skittish demeanor and blush on the young boy's face. He was so cute you could almost bite his cheeks until they bled. "But yeah, there's a reason, honey, tell me, when was the last time our room was checked for hidden cats?"

You stifle a laugh at Sebastian's thoughtful expression as he puts together the pieces of the little puzzle that has been bothering him for that entire week. A sigh of disbelief escapes his throat as he looks up at you and takes in your smug gaze.

"Perhaps, you are more cruel than I realized." Sebastian thinks aloud, laughing at the sound of indignation that fell from his lips. He smiles, and it's his turn to shower your face and neck with slow, hot kisses, just the way you like it. It turns you to jelly right away. "I appreciate it, but I would still rather have my soulmate by my side at night. It's almost torture to endure all these minutes without you by my side, besides there are several other hiding places that I haven't shown you yet. Hiding places the young master would never find."

You let yourself be pulled into his lap, still feeling every place he kissed burn slowly, lips scraping over the foot of your ear as the demon watched you gasp. "You were very cruel leaving me and reading to the brat night after night."

"Is that jealousy I hear, Bastian?” You teased him. “Jealousy and clinginess?”

The lips that were close to your ear closed on your neck, biting the skin hard enough to draw blood and the pained moan that echoed through the room was inevitable. His warm tongue licked every red drop that ran down your neck and you felt him smile.

You knew Sebastian was proud, he just wouldn't admit he was jealous, especially of a human child. He would perhaps rather pretend to be a priest and deliver a sermon to a packed church than admit how jealous he felt and the thought made you laugh, even if your neck burned and the funny attempt to punish you was in vain. You could almost double over with laughter. You could imagine him wearing a signature robe with his hair slicked back and his reading glasses draped over his face. He would be the perfect sinful image that believers should turn away from.

"Oh darling, you can bite and kiss me some more," You said in a tired voice, then added, "But I only speak the truth."

"That's rich coming from a demon." He snarled.

"Ah, shut up." You silenced him by laughing. "Let's go to bed already, I want to sleep cuddling with you."

Sebastian smiled. He couldn't deny you that, even joking, when you asked him with that voice and that sweet look, he was incredibly weak to you and promptly did what was asked, parting with you to get rid of his shoes and tailcoat while you did the same with your uniform.

Within minutes, you found yourself in each other's arms, red eyes meeting yours, as you leaned in to share one last kiss.

Demons didn't need to sleep and Sebastian preferred not to, but you used to take a little nap after a long day to recharge and your strong grip on his waist ensured that Sebastian wouldn't run away from your arms while you slept, the thought of the empty, cold bed beside you bothered you, even in unconsciousness your grip would not loosen.

Your head nestled against his chest, your eyes slowly closing as you listened to the soft sound of his heart synchronizing with yours. The world slowly blurred as you felt Sebastian's loving gaze on you.

"Love you my jealous demon, see you in a few hours."

And with that, you entered the world of dreams, letting your soulmate take care of you and watch over your sleep.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score - Chapter 7 - Avalanche | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: With some time to spare before the finals, you return to the Hightower/Targaryen Household, a million questions on your mind | Word Count: 6.8k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: smut straight out the gate, swearing, degradation, aemond being a sexual menace, a lot of dirty talk, p in v unprotected sex, marijuana use, hotboxing, oral (m receiving), face-fuccin, swallowing, toxic family relationships, implied p in v under the influence

A/N: yeah the whole hotboxing in a wendy house is actually a true story, my mum did it with my aunty when I was a kid (I wasn't there lol), so yeah thought it'd be fun to pop that in. ANYWAY feel somewhat self conscious of this chapter cos I feel like not much happens but OH WELL

Comments, reblogs & likes are always appreciated in this household. I love u 😚

You thought he might have been joking.

But he was playing a dangerous game.

Hotel check-out, they said, was 10:00am. Aemond has simply shrugged and hummed in agreement, not giving the receptionist the impression that he cared.

He'd made good on his promise after the match you'd won, practically dragging you to Arryk's car having made his pleasantries, pictures and casual conversations with the judges.

But after that? He was a man on a mission.

Arryk's car was deadly quiet the entire ride back to the hotel, the sun beginning to dip against the buildings by the time you got back. And some of the hotel residents had looked on with one eyebrow raised as Aemond's led you hurriedly through the foyer, still in your outfits.

As soon as the lift doors were shut, he was on you.

Hungry. Like he'd finally been allowed out of his proverbial cage, desperate for a freedom he found in having you all to himself.

He spent the majority of that evening between your thighs, basking in said freedom.

A beam was bleeding through the slits between the curtains, but the light against the warm cotton made the room feel soft and inviting. It was like the feeling of rolling around in fresh bed sheets and tired lazy mornings.

The soft slapping of Aemond's hips against yours was the only sound that managed to disturb this tranquil morning, as well as the hushed murmurs of his words against your tacky skin, and the softened tumblings of tiny moans from your lips.

You've lost track of how many times he's made you cum by now.

It's all a haze of the closest intimacy, the room smells of sex, humid from your bare bodies being pressed against each other.

" - Aemond - we have to - ah, fuck - we have to check out soon -" you manage in a breathless whisper, the air constantly being fucked out of your lungs with each desperate slam of his cock in the deepest parts of you.

You feel him, how his cockhead bullies the rough, spongy spot inside you. Unsure if you can even handle another orgasm. How Aemond is even doing this right now is beyond reason, the amount of sleep this man is running on.

Aemond grins against your ear, groaning lowly at the feeling of your nails scraping against the nape of his neck. If your previous trysts have been quickies, this time it's lazy and languid, almost thoughtful.

"You can give me one more before that" he growls, voice vibrating in his chest pressed flush against yours.

Your eyebrows furrow together, the pressure building whether you want it to or not, the way his length drags against your over-sensitive walls is too much and yet not enough. Feeling both numb and tender. Head feeling as if it's airy and empty, all you're able to think about is him and how he's making you feel.

Your body moves with the pace of his thrusts, breasts faintly bouncing alongside it, sticky from the previous rounds' half-dried spend. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips, anchoring you to him, inevitably leaving marks in their wake.

He leans forward on his knees, his firm, muscular and athletic thighs, hardened from years of training, brushing against your own. The movement has his cock brushing against your cervix sensitively.

His hands, fingers long and lithe, hold your thighs and lift them higher and to your sides, widening you for him and granting himself deeper access. Your face heats up instantly being so on show, eyes glazed over with lust when you look at him.

His hair falling around his face, messily. His wide shoulders and slim waist, muscles flexing as he adjusts your position. As well as the warmth blooming in your core, it also does so in your stomach, and you briefly fear what it could mean.

You watch as Aemond keeps your legs elevated, his hips moving once more against you, his skin tapping against yours audibly with how wet you are.

You swear you've never been more aroused in your life.

The coil winds tightly inside you, watching how diligently and carefully he fucks you. As rough as the actions are, there is a softness in the way he holds your flesh in his palms.

"Come on, we don't want to be late now do we, pretty girl" he grins, lips parted to breathe with each thrust, a sheen of sweat covering his neck and chest, catching the light between his pecks.

If his movements don't finish you off, that most certainly does.

It's almost worse being in the back of Arryk's car with Aemond after all of that. Like the tension hasn't disappeared one bit. And you try to busy yourself with something else, like putting some music on or staring out the window. But nothing seems to help.

After successfully making it to the check out time, Aemond smirking the entire time he was giving his keycard back, you both faced the onslaught of reporters who hung around the entrance of the hotel where Arryk's car was parked. All wanting a glimpse and/or a word from the finalists who were warming up to each other visibly.

The flash of the cameras blinded you, and you recoiled with the appearance of several microphones shoved in your path with such personal questions, all talking over one another. 

You at least made out that they suspected there was some romance involved.

Aemond, with his tall, beanpole form, had blocked the view with his body, rounding the car to open the door for you. He didn't seem to flinch as he parted his path between the reporters to get in himself. You supposed being the prodigal son of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower will do that to someone.

Idly you scrolled through your phone, seeing the various recommended news articles about the famed finalists.

Ice Prince and Princess demolish the semi-finals with their sensual performance. Aemond Targaryen. New partner or new lover? The ice has melted with our finalist couple keeping each other warm.

That last one made you cringe and click off your phone.

Even though things were better, and he had at least apologised, you couldn't help but have more questions. Mostly around Floris? Could you really believe Larys? And did Aemond have this kind of relationship with her as well? Perhaps that had been the reason behind her 'accident'?

Part of you, the doubtful part, thought that he'd only done all this, get close to you and sweeten you up, to improve the performance. Give him a better chance at winning.

You didn't want to think about that possibility. And yet it lingered.

Instead you focussed on the final. The final. 

And against all the fucking people, it was the Martells.

Ugh.

But at least there was more time between the last match and the finals now. Time to prepare.

That meant going back to the large Targaryen House, back to 'normality'. You itched to be around other people again, as being around Aemond made your skin prickle up almost uncomfortably. Maybe it was not knowing where you stood with him.

The car zoomed past the electric gates and Helaena and Alicent were waiting outside, Helaena beaming with joy and waving and Alicent, ever graceful, hands clasped at her front, smiling fondly at the return of her son.

As soon as you got out of the car, Helaena threw her arms around you, her hair emanating her signature lavender-like scent, but as soon as she pulled back she had a knowing smirk on her face, which mildly panicked you.

Alicent made her pleasantries, hugging her abnormally tall son and guiding you both inside. Helaena grabbed your hand, following shortly behind, giving you the side-eye.

"What?" You asked her.

"Oh don't give me that. I have some questions for you later"

You didn't have time to roll your eyes before a loud, ear-splitting bark reverberated off the waxed floor, the click of claw-lined paws echoing as a large Great Dane, who was clearly on the older side, bounded happily towards Aemond, heedless of its true size, and tackled him successfully to the floor.

"Umf! Gods Vhagar" Aemond hummed annoyedly, but the smile on his face when the large dog stood on his chest and licked his face betrayed his true feelings. You'd rarely seen Aemond properly smile, so seeing the boyish excitement on his face was…a strange welcome feeling.

Aemond laid there, back flat on the wax floor, accepting his fate. The dog named Vhagar you surmised, once done with its vicious attack, looked up curiously to you, tongue and tail wagging with equal vigour. Aemond tilted his head back to look at you, amused, the dog's paws planted firmly on his pecks.

"This is Vhagar, she doesn't like gir-"

Vhagar barked and made for you, taking mercy somewhat and only jumped up to rest her paws on your chest, craning her head for pets, which you were more than happy to give, paying special attention to her neck and ears as a wide smile graced your face.

"Good girl, Vhagar" you praised, her tongue still hanging out her mouth excitedly. Aemond raised his eyebrows, shocked and happy to see that reaction, as if to say 'I stand corrected'.

"I didn't know you had a dog" you say, watching as Vhagar gallops back over to Aemond, sitting at his feet as he stands and brushes himself off, looking up to him with admiration.

"We all do. Family tradition. They've been at the kennel for a bit" he explains, shoving his hands in his pockets. At the mention of the word 'kennel', Vhagar puts her tongue away, staring with worry, as if she was horrified. Aemond hums a laugh.

Alicent claps once, gathering all your attention. She's elegant as always, long sleeved top and a black slinky skirt, her hair perfectly tied back and held with a gold accessory.

"Well! It's lunchtime, you can tell us all about the tour over some cheese and wine, yes?" She beams.

Ah yes, back to aristocratic 'reality'.

Outside, the table was set with a gorgeous spread of brightly coloured food, plates and such as well. Otto seemed not to be present, and with that, the mood was lighter, less business-like and more like a family.

That as well as the presence of another silver-haired brother, much too skinny to be Aegon.

Aemond shoved his arm around their neck playfully, dragging him up, “Baby brother, are you geriatric? Your senses are getting worse”

You and Helaena watch with amusement as the smaller silver-haired brother goes pink, stuck in the hold Aemond has him in, “The fuck is wrong with you, Aem, get off!”

“Aeg, get his legs” Aemond smirks, scooping his arms under the smaller brother’s, “Daeron, you look hot, how about a dunk?”

“No! No, Aegon, stop it!” he protests, but the oldest brother simply smirks, a cigarette hanging from between his teeth as the two shuffle over to the pond in the middle of the garden, “Don’t encourage him, Aeg, put me down!”

“Well that’s not fun then, is it?” Aegon grins,

Helaena laughs, simply watching but not helping, “Think of it as punishment for being away from us for so long!”

“That’s not fair, Hel!” he shouts as Aegon and Aemond begin to swing, chanting ‘a leg and a wing, to see the king’.

“Boys, put your brother down, the meat’s getting cold!” Alicent calls, bringing out the iced lemon water.

With a huff, they do as they’re told, Daeron landing to the floor with a thud. The youngest brushes the grass off his slacks, smiling at you as if he’s just noticed you’re here.

“Sorry, Daeron” he smiles politely, shaking your hand.

You smile, “A pleasure”

“Dig in, everyone” Alicent beams, setting down one last plate of bread rolls, “I’ll just get some cutlery”

Aegon huffs in his seat, “Look delicious, mother. Who can I thank for such a spread?”

Alicent taps the back of his head in a playful scold as she’s walking past, “Me, you cheeky little so-and-so”

You laugh as you take your own seat next to Helaena.

Without Otto here, the atmosphere is warm, everyone’s happy. A stark contrast to your first evening spent in the formal cave-like atmosphere of the dining room, feeling left-out and ostracised. 

It’s more like a family now.

Conversation flows exceptionally well, all the tension now completely fizzled out with the soft, warm afternoon sun just dipping beneath the trees, flooding their garden with an orangey glow. Aemond and Aegon badgered their youngest, Daeron, about his studies and why he went to see Aegon instead of Aemond on tour, harmlessly teasing him on having favourites.

Alicent watched her three sons with motherly joy, but mostly chatted idly with you and Helaena.

After a glass of wine, Helaena now loosened, she confided in you quietly about the tour.

"Think I'm losing it" she mused,

"Losing what?"

She looked at you, violet eyes catching the sun, "My touch. The tour was okay but we got annihilated by the fucking Stormlands of all people" she scoffed.

"Who was representing Pairs for that?"

"Cass Barath and some guy she used to go to school with. They couldn't fucking stand each other but won on technical"

Couldn't stand each other.

That sounds familiar.

Or rather sounded.

"Shame. We could've been against one another" you smile, tapping your glass with your nail.

"Gods, if we went up against you after the last performance we'd have no chance" she smirks, "I have questions for you, don't think I've forgotten"

At the idea of telling Hel your face flushes briefly, turning away to try and hide it, just as Aemond has turned to you, Daeron talking his ear off. He gives a lazy smirk, somewhat bashful, as he looks down into his lap where his hands are clasped.

The evening was so peaceful it made a pain in your heart. And you wished it was like this for them all the time.

Alicent smiled, tapping her hand on top of yours, "Congratulations, sweet girl. We're very proud of you both"

You can't help the drop in your heart when she says that.

She speaks to you like she would a daughter.

It's a warmth you've not known for some time.

And she sees the way your face is completely relaxed, like nobody had ever said that they were proud of you before. There's a sadness in her expression.

When was the last time someone said that to you?

Estranged from your own parents, you honestly can't remember.

So you swallow over the lump in your throat and nod gratefully, trying not to show how deeply her small act of kindness has affected you.

"Thank you"

She smiles reassuringly, but it doesn't quite make it to her eyes, like she knows exactly what you're thinking.

A mother's intuition is never wrong.

She pats your hand once before pulling away, "You know, you remind me so much of someone I used to know"

You cock your head, "Who?"

Alicent visibly swallows, her eyes casting back, "An old friend" she says, smiling at the memory, "she was so sure of herself, unapologetically so. And she never let other people tell her what she should think"

You laugh lightly, "She sounds more confident than me"

"You are as well" she reassures, "I remember my last match you know.

I always wore blue, for my performances. But this particular day, my father got me to wear dark green, as an…homage of sorts, to Oldtown" she recounts, "I loved that outfit"

Her face falls somewhat then.

"I still can't watch that performance. Knowing it was my last"

Your heart aches in sympathy for her.

"And I can't look at that outfit without turning sad" she says distantly, her chocolate brown eyes looking down sadly.

You, of course, know this story to some extent. Banned from competing entirely, which seemed a very harsh judgement from the committee, but a decision was made nonetheless. You remember briefly watching reruns of her performance, how happy she looked then. How absolutely natural she was.

She didn't seem like she'd aged much at all. She certainly didn't look as if she had four children all grown.

You can't help but feel as if she had to grow up quickly.

"I'm just going to go and get some napkins, darling" she says with a polite smile, as if the conversation hadn't happened, standing up and excusing herself to the kitchen.

"So!" Aegon starts, "'Ice Princess', huh?"

You give him a playful glare, "Shut up"

"What!"

"I thought it was nice" Daeron says timidly,

"Don't you start" you retort, face heating rapidly as Aemond just sits back and lets the chaos ensue, with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"It was a good routine. Our grandfather wasn't much pleased" Aegon grins,

Aemond does too, "I bet he wasn't"

Helaena cocks her head, "What made you switch up the routine?"

Just as you're about to open your mouth, Aemond gets there before you do.

"I just gave her some advice in the dressing room" he grins mischievously, "looks like it worked"

Your lips slam shut at his words, a kind of dull, ache settling between your legs, reminding you of this morning, when Aemond had you in a rather precarious position. You hope to every god that exists that your face doesn't show it, as you stare him down.

He just looks impressed with himself.

You're not sure if it's the chill of the evening or the effect of Aemond that has goose bumps on your arms.

Just as Alicent comes back outside, Helaena takes your hand, standing quickly.

Thank the gods for that.

"I'm freezing, Mum. We're going to go inside"

"Alright, darling" she smiles.

You spare a look over your shoulder as she hurries you through the glass doors into the kitchen. Of course, Aemond is watching, his gaze unapologetically roaming over what you're wearing.

You don't miss Aegon's knowing smirk either, which never fails to make you roll your eyes.

"Hel, what the fuck is this?" You laugh as Hel hurries you to a secluded area near the trees.

There, nestled between two oak trees, is a tiny little wendy house, clearly purpose built, and by now definitely looking it's age, with single paned windows and fading blue paint.

"Otto had it built it for me when I was five" she uses all her possible strength to pull the door open, the wood having swollen with age and damp. It eventually gives with a squeak, dust billowing between you both, "come on"

You duck, slipping past the threshold, "You're not gonna axe murder me in here, right?"

She scoffs and pulls the swollen wood back into place, the windows rattling in the frames as she does, "If I was an axe murderer you'd be dead by now"

She produces a rather worn plastic bag, with several freshly rolled spliffs stuffed inside.

"Sorry I just assumed you did-"

"I don't often" you shrug, "but when in Rome" you smile.

She passes you one and sticks one into her mouth.

"Where did you even get these?"

She grins as she pulls out a lighter, "Aegon. He sells them"

She blows the first buff out from between her lips, tossing you the lighter, "So you stole them?"

She shrugs, "I'm his sister. I'm just borrowing them"

"Hmm" you hum as you light yours as well. 

You both pull yourself only the ledges opposite each other, knees almost touching as you draw a few breaths in, the effect of it warming your throat and chest, your head already starting to feel lighter. The smoke fills the tiny wendy house, only serving to heighten the intensity.

"Right. Spill" Hel grins.

"Gods Hel, I'm not even high yet!"

"I don't care. Spill"

You give her a look, "He's your brother"

"Yeah I don't want the nasty fucking details, just keep it vague please"

"Alright, alright" you laugh, sighing between drags, "Well…"

"When did it happen?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, "The first night at the hotel"

"The first night?!" She shouts in shock, leaning forward and mouth agape, "How-"

You can't help but laugh at her reaction. She'd obviously expected more of a romantic lead up to what occurred on that night, the memory making you squeeze your thighs together.

Helaena listens intently, asking the odd question, the effects of the drug must be getting to her as well because sometimes she asks the same one twice.

Explaining it all to someone else, it makes it all feel a bit more real, and you're eager to see how his sister, the person who knows him perhaps the closest, will react to your side of the story.

"In the dressing room??" She grimaces, "you guys are fucking disgusting. I don't think I can watch that performance the same way ever again"

You laugh, the effect of the drugs now weathering away your inhibitions.

You suppose there's no time like the present to ask an innocent question.

"Can I ask you something, Hel?" 

"I'm all ears" she responds.

Your fingernails tap against the worn out wood, nervously, "Were…Aemond and Floris…"

Helaena doesn't even let you finish.

"Oh fuck no. Absolutely not. When Floris was here he'd find any excuse to not be around her. It was quite funny really. But no, he's not really been with any girl since that fucking dinosaur"

Oh, Alys...

It's embarrassing, the relief that gives you.

"Floris just couldn't hack Aemond, she just thought he was…a cryptid weirdo. Aemond in turn just thought she was dumb and didn't care much for her skills"

"Was she not very good?"

"She'd be alright on her own, but she didn't collaborate well. Couldn't take criticism" she says, and you can tell by the tone of her voice that she's trying to be as nice as possible.

"Right…"

"So, you and Aemond…you're all good now?"

You sigh, honestly not knowing the answer yourself, "I think so?"

"You mean…you don't know?" she snorts, "surely if you two are smashing you're all good"

"Not really. I catch myself half-thinking about what he said, what I said, what's happened-"

"Yes, but Aemond's apologised, you said" Hel reasons, the small stream of smoke blooming from her spliff.

A warmth of embarrassment blooms in your chest.

"Yes but…I haven't"

Hel cocks her head, "What do you-"

Light floods the Wendy house as the door swings open, both of you squinting your eyes shut, having to somewhat sober up as the smoke is sucked out. Aemond grabs the doorframe, showing just how comically small the Wendy house is compared to him, and sticks his head in, crinkling his nose.

"Using your Wendy house to hotbox again?" 

"Yeah until you came to ruin it!" Hel says.

Aemond laughs lowly, sparing a glance at you and plucking the spliff from your fingers to take a drag of his own before returning it. The act, weirdly, has your skin burning where he'd touched.

Hel pushes off the ledge, brushing past her brother, stubbing out her spliff on the side of the doorway, "I'll leave you two"

You look at her in shock as she crosses the greenery, watching as she passes you a smug grin over her shoulder, knowing full well she's leaving you alone with Aemond to torture you.

Aemond barely manages to fit inside the Wendy house with his height as he occupies the spot where Helaena was.

"What were you girls talking about?" He asks, his arms leaning against the ledge. He's wearing his usual, entirely black get up, something so unapologetically Aemond that you don't even question it. But the way his arms look in the short sleeved shirt never fails to send flutters in your belly.

So you just laugh anxiously and stub the spliff out.

"Just girly stuff"

He raises an eyebrow, "girly stuff?" He asks, pushing the hair back over the top of his head with his fingers.

Fuck. Him. For being so attractive.

Your mind whirs uncomfortably, confronted with him. If you don't say anything, who knows is Hel might.

"About you and Floris"

"Ah" he says, smiling, "is someone jealous?"

"No"

He presses his lips together like he doesn't believe you.

"In any case, if you were, there's nothing to be jealous about, princess"

You roll your eyes at the nickname.

You bite your lip, "and about how it's come to this. You and me" you start, "Hel and every other person in Westeros by the sounds of it"

He huffs a laugh, "Yeah I've seen the news articles"

Your mind swirls, his presence coupled by the effect of the drug have made everything feel like it's been turned up to 100. The warmth inside the Wendy house now that the doors closed, your knees nudging against each other, his broad form, almost encompassing every square foot.

It's here you realise he's not taken his gaze off you. Possibly feeling the same way himself.

"What?" You ask with a drowsy smile.

He shakes his head.

"Nothing" he answers, suddenly looking anywhere but at you. You swear you see a blush on his face.

The smoking has made you more aloof, so you step forward, running your hand up the inside of his arm, almost pressed flush with him.

"C'mon tell me" you insist, smiling mischievously, "I could practically hear you thinking"

He turns his head, sighing, but not really annoyed. He's quiet for a moment, like he's considering something, like he wants to say something. But all thoughts are sapped from you when his palm cups your face, his thumb runs across your bottom lip, barely applying pressure.

It's his fixed look that holds you though, his reverent gaze at your lips, flitting to your eyes that glimmer with a sort of drunken haze.

It almost sobers you up entirely.

You wonder what he's thinking, he's so difficult to read.

The thoughts don't last. Aemond leans down to press his lips to yours, the naturally curved shape of them anchors your mouth open to taste you briefly. Both of you taste of tobacco and smoke, mixed together with the musk of his scent. You don't know why it drives you so crazy. Nobody has made you feel like that…ever.

It's tender. Almost loving.

Embroiled in the heat of the moment, arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush to him, and you smile somewhat against his lips feeling his hardness pressed against his sweatpants.

With enlarged confidence due to lack of inhibitions, your hand winds down his body, your palm running over his length, and it's clear by the way he delivers a stuttered groan into your mouth that he enjoys it immensely and was also not expecting it.

You only part when both of your hands stop at the waistband of his sweatpants.

"What are you doing" he asks, his voice hoarse in anticipation.

"What does it look like" you smirk, lips still close to his, teasing him, "taking care of you"

Pushing them just past his hips, your hand slips down the front, past his tummy, to his achingly hard cock, wrapping your fingers around him and pumping slowly.

"I don't hear you complaining..." you smile.

" - fuck - baby…" 

You can't help but love it when he calls you that. Like it just comes so naturally.

A wicked idea strikes across your mind like a match. Your eyes light up, loving the way he's giving the illusion of being at your mercy, when in reality he could very easily flip the switch and be his usual cocksure self.

His breath seems to get sucked from his lungs when you kneel down before him, looking up at him dreamily while tugging his sweatpants down enough to free his cock, standing entirely hard against his muscled stomach, the tip ruddy and leaking with arousal.

He has such a pretty cock it's difficult to look away, and you feel your own arousal pool deep in your stomach in anticipation, tracing your palm from base to tip, caressing his length with care. Watching how his grip is white-knuckled and tight on the ledge, the wood cracking under it.

You've not done this yet with Aemond. It's always been him pleasing you.

This time it'd be different, even if he was only pretending to be in control.

Aemond watches with lips parts as you lower your mouth to the base of him, drawing a line with your tongue agonisingly slowly over the prominent vein on the underside, all the way to the tip, swirling your tongue around where he's most sensitive. It has a shuddered breath escape Aemond, with something akin to a whine.

He shuts his eyes, his fingers carding through your hair at the side of your face, all the way to the back, curling them and tugging at the follicles pleasurably.

You've slept together, but you've never seen his cock up this close, and it's a shame, because he's perfect. Thinking about taking him into your mouth is just too good an opportunity to pass up, and the heady scent of his skin just has you wanting to devour him.

" - please, don't tease m-"

You moan around his length as you take him as far as you can, relaxing your jaw muscles to allow for more, and whatever you can't fit, you caress with your hand. Aemond gasps quietly as your mouth tightens around him when his cockhead hits the back of your throat, his grip tightening in your hair.

It doesn't take long for you to begin properly pleasuring him in earnest, figuring he's been patient enough. You press your tongue to the underside and hollow your cheeks, creating more friction. Aemond looks down, watching the way his cock disappears into your mouth over and over, the length slick with saliva from your efforts.

He meets your rhythm with the soft canting of his hips, using his hold to slightly pull you onto him. You look up at him, watching his hedonistic expression and the way his mouth is slightly open with hurried breaths, pupil blown wide with lust at the lewdness of the act as well as the setting.

" - you're so good - fucking perfect - " he whispers.

The praise goes straight to your core, tightening around nothing, and it only serves to redouble your efforts.

As usual, Aemond feels the need to be assertive, and his hands smooth your hair into a ponytail, one hand gripping it in place and he pulls you off, only a string of saliva connecting either of you.

"Wha-"

"I want to fuck your mouth, baby" He mutters lowly. And in the gentle darkness of the room, with only a whisper of light at one side of his face, he looks mythical. His sudden change of tone has you wet your lips nervously, but also in excitement.

"Can you do that for me?"

You nod once, eager to please him, but also to taste him again.

He smiles slightly, "Good girl"

He pushes off the ledge slightly, standing straight and holding the base of his length, prodding the tip against your lips, the precum making them glisten. Your hands find his muscular thighs for stability.

"Tap my thigh twice if it's too much"

You nod in understanding.

"Open up for me, baby"

He plunges his cock into your mouth, taking his time to sink completely in, until he bottoms out in your mouth, his cockhead now truly tapping the back of your throat. You gag softly at the invasion of him so deeply, your grip tightening.

"Breathe through your nose - that's it - good girl - " He praises lowly, and you do as he says, making the effort to relax.

He starts to slowly fuck your mouth, gauging how much of a pace you're able to take before going any faster. His grip tightens on your hair, tugging at the makeshift ponytail and pulling on it, making you whine around his length, which only serves to urge him on as he uses your head for leverage.

" - such a pretty little mouth - fuck - " he whispers, his hips now moving in earnest, snapping against your mouth with renewed vigour, in search of release, " - you're so perfect - look at me - "

It's hard to look up at him with his cock pistoning into your mouth, but you do, and the look he has is borderline magical. His chest moves quickly with his breathing, a soft smile on his face as he looks down at you with pride.

" - that's it - finally, a good use for your dirty mouth - looks so much better with my cock in it, don't you think?" 

You hum around him, trying to relax your jaw as much as possible as his cockhead bullies the back of your throat, a line of saliva running down the side of your mouth.

He laughs, " - baby you're making such a mess on me - such a good little slut - ffffuck- bet that pretty little pussy is soaked from sucking my cock -" his head tilts back, clearly close, and you can tell by the way he goes faster.

Your stomach rolls with delight, face warm with embarrassment, knowing he's entirely right, you squeeze your thighs together for some semblance of friction.

" - you gonna be a good girl and swallow for me? - want me to cum in your dirty fucking mouth? - " 

As a way of answering, you press your tongue to the underside again, one of your hands going to his balls to caress them, urging him on, with pleasured tears pricking at your eyes.

" - seven fucking - you're bad, aren't you -" he breathes, " - oh fuck - "

He slams into your mouth forcefully one last time, stilling as his cock throbs on your tongue, feeling his cum at the back of your throat. Joining the line down your chin, a line of his spend also runs down, having completely filled your mouth.

You look up at him for a brief moment, appreciating the way his eye is closed, his breath coming heavily from his lips after what sounds like a shattered whine. His shoulders tremble, and the bit of his tummy you can see poking out from under his shirt clenches uncontrollably, his muscles moving with his breath. It doesn't taste unpleasant, but it's salty and coats your mouth in the most lewd, delicious way. To see him so lost in pleasure is worth it.

His fingers loosen, and stroke your hair lovingly as you swallow as much as you can, thrusting shallowly a few more times with a near pornographic sound. After a moment, he pulls his softening length from your mouth, using one hand to tiredly tuck himself away as he looks down at you, his pupil blown wide enough to eclipse the blue and still trying to regain his breath.

"You're amazing" he praises, his thumb coming to your face to wipe the line of his release, dipping it back into your mouth. You eagerly wrap your lips around his digit, making a show of it while your eyes meet.

He pulls you up to your feet, slamming his lips against yours, heedless of the taste of himself on your tongue as he moans into your mouth. It sucks the air from your lungs, his arms wrapping around you and you in turn wrap yours around his neck.

"I could fuck you all night, you know that?" He whispers between breaks for air.

You've spent so much time with Aemond, less time romantically, but even still, it feels nice to be touched by him, to be praised by him.

He breaks and presses his forehead to yours, eyes shut, completely at ease.

You swallow. The haze now dissipated somewhat.

"I…need to say something"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry…"

He opens his eyes, brows arched in questioning, "what for, princess?"

Fuck, he needs to stop saying that. 

You wet your lips, "For calling you a nepo-baby…"

The reaction you didn't expect from Aemond, was to fucking laugh.

But he does, quiet at first, but gaining traction, his eyes crinkling up into something you've barely seen. His white teeth gleaming in the darkness.

"What?" You smile, nudging his shoulder.

"Has that really been eating you up inside?" He jokes,

"Yes!" You insist, "I've said some…nasty things as well"

Aemond rolls his eye, "You don't need to apologise to me"

"Well I did, so now's the part where you say you forgive me" you reply, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

He hums a laugh, "forgive you?" He grins, "and what if I don't?"

"You have to"

"Hmm" he smirks, "maybe -" he spins you around, pushing you against the opposite ledge, and you're astonished to find him hard, yet again, against your backside. Your hands find purchase on the ledge, keeping yourself up, and your face splits in a gasp when Aemond swiftly pushes his hand past your tummy at your front and swipes two fingers across your drenched folds.

"-You'll have to earn it, princess"

When you returned to your bedroom, with a pleasant ache between your thighs, having shushed and giggled with Aemond when you snuck back in (apart from when he'd nearly knocked a very precious antique sword off the wall), you'd felt a surge of something deep in your gut when stood outside in the hallway.

Aemond could barely keep his hands away, and as well as that, couldn't let go to say goodnight. He'd pulled you to him, littering your face with kisses that always seemed to end with his lips pressed to yours desperately.

When he'd pulled away, looking down at your face in the soft darkness, there was a tug in your chest. He looked so peaceful like this, so calm. And his thumb caressed the skin of your face with care, taking in every little feature.

He opened his mouth, but swiftly closed it.

And said something else instead.

"You're so beautiful"

Though it made your skin bloom all the same, as he so easily managed to do, you felt as if he wanted to say something else. And there were words on your mind as well, that felt too serious to say out loud. 

Being this close to him, it felt incredibly intimate and rare, as if something precious had been granted to you.

And you could see the way something melted away when you touched his face, your thumb tracing the bottom of his scar carefully.

You wondered if he knew how beautiful you thought he was as well. If he'd ever been told that.

It seemed like he understood just by the gentle touch, all the little thoughts in your head.

Even if you weren't sure where exactly you stood with Aemond, even though you knew something needed to be addressed, to be defined…

…this felt nice.

But you didn't tell El these details. It would mean she'd ask questions, make you question yourself, and how you feel. You weren't sure if you were ready to confront them.

El was absolutely smug and ecstatic when you told her about what happened. As opposed to Helaena though, El did ask for the nasty details, which you provided some of. But not all. Those were for your own benefit.

You didn't tell her about what Larys had said about Floris though, not until you knew for certain. What did Larys have against Otto anyway? And why would Otto do such a heinous thing?

Supposedly.

You woke early the next morning as you always did, and pulled on a hoodie, with the chill of the day still hanging in the air. Your footsteps were soft from the fluffy socks on the staircase, a soft light emanating from the living room, and hushed angered voices within.

You stopped in your tracks, ears pricked.

Otto was here.

"You will not push Aemond as you pushed me, I will not allow it!" Alicent started, in an accusatory tone.

"I pushed you to be the greatest figure skater in Westeros. Or have you forgotten?" Otto replied, and you could tell from the tone of his voice that he looked smug.

"And pushed me into his arms into the bargain!" She retorts, her voice upset and strained, "Because of you, I am banned from skating competitively! Because of you, I cannot have one good thing of my own, and you robbed me of my only friend!"

There's a silence. You sit on the staircase, feeling wholly bad for prying, but too curious to stop. Alicent sounds as if she is catching her breath.

"And you will not take Aemond from me. You will not rob Aemond of her either"

Your heart freezes.

"She has little to do with this" Otto states,

"She is good for him. Aemond likes her"

Otto scoffs, "It is just business. Aemond knows this, it has been discussed. This is why I do not consult you, you get too emotionally invested"

Just business? You think over the words Otto has just said.

Just business partners?

No, surely…

"They are emotionally invested! I have never seen Aemond as happy with anyone as he is with her! You shall not ruin that with your vicarious ambitions!"

You can't bring yourself to truly believe what Otto has said.

Surely what you both had was more than that…

Anger prickles at your insides. 

How he treats his daughter, and by extension his grandchildren, with the exception of Helaena, who he dotes on, angers you.

How could he be so cruel to them like this? Instilling a business-like appearance on a family.

You pull out your phone, typing furiously and quickly, still hearing Alicent and Otto argue in the living room.

What sort of information do you have? 

You wait impatiently, but there's no need. Larys replies a few moments later and your heart pounds.

Good to hear from you. I'll send over all I have as soon as possible. -Larys S

General Taglist: @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics | @watercolorskyy

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998 | @cathy1514 | @dahlias-and-marigolds | @fan-goddess

[vmbrq]

how do u think some of the scream guys react to a more bimbo esque s/o….. cus i already KNOWWWW some of them *cough cough* charlie *cough cough* WOULD FW IT, LIKE IDKK AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON ETHAN ?? obsessed loser boy x oblivious girly bimbo ??? SOOOO 🤭🤭 and i just know they’re silly little perverts too so they would get all squirmy just from her accidentally flashing them as she bends down to pick up like a flower out of the grass or smth😭😭 IDK I JUST THINK ITS CUTEEE 🤭

(also omg idk if u do anons or anything but like …… if u do …. can i be 🩷 PLEASEEEE if not thats okay😁☝️ ANYWAYS OKAY BYEEE)

yes, i do anons !! so you certainly can <3

AND IT IS CUTE :( ethan would be STRESSED LMAOO practically glued to your side or standing behind you to make sure you don't accidentally flash anyone. he would also be one of the first to volunteer to fix the straps on your sandals or tie your sneakers for the same reason. he also takes advantage of any opportunity to tutor you, even if most of your sessions end up with you in his lap with your lips on his. he's such a sucker for you, too, so weak to the way you whine his name or gaze up at him, all sweet and adoring, and ask him for a kiss. he could be holding a cardboard box he can barely see over, and he'll still be awkwardly angling his body and bending forward to give you a quick peck on the lips.

charlie would be so fond of just observing you, whether it's admiring your side profile while you touch up your makeup or watching how your animated expressions reflect your thoughts as you try to work through homework on your own. plus, he knows that half the time, you have zero clue what he's talking about when he rambles on about the specifics of media, but he adores the effort you put into trying to understand. and even if you've given up on trying, you still sit there with a smile and give him your full attention, bc you just like hearing him talk.

both of them would be obsessed with the way you have no concept of personal space when it comes to them, your brain consisting of nothing but tv static as you get right in their face or press up close to them. you're shameless with your affection, and you never think twice about how out-of-place they appear at your side.

mickey and billy would adore how easy you are to mold into their perfect, unwitting accomplice, taking all of their explanations in stride and rarely ever questioning them. there's a certain freedom that your presence allows, since they know that you don't even blink or think twice about the thin layers of blood embedded beneath their fingernails or that strange scent that clings to their clothes when they kiss or hold you. oh, they accidentally cut themselves? oh, that smell is just the gasoline from their car? okay. after all, all you need is to trust them and let them do the thinking. all you have to do is sit on their laps and look pretty for them.

mentions of smut under the cut ; minors dni

all of the sex jokes when they're around end up flying right over your head. you're so naive, so sweet, so easy to manipulate until you're bouncing on their cock and creaming a pretty, white ring at the base because it's "the best way to get rid of your stomachache." they stick out like a sore thumb against the decor of your room, but sometimes, when you've got their head resting on your chest with your fingers combing idly through their hair, or when they're sprawled on your bed lying about not peeking through their fingers while you lotion up your bare body and reflexively reach for the shirt they lent you three weeks ago, they feel as though they fit right in.

[bouncybongfairy]

hi could u pls do a jet atla smut where him and reader try to fuck quietly in the tent then in the morning the freedom fighters worry like 'did u hear weird sounds last night' - 'yeah i think it was a bear'

Inside Voices

Jett (ATLA) x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: You're having a hard time keeping it down while getting fucked by Jet in your tent.

Word Count: 1.0k+

TW: Rough Smut & Semi Public Sex

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Jet was laying on his back, looking over at your space of the shared tent every once in a while. Trying to put all the past memories of you out of his mind. Admiring and missing how soft your skin is. That one sound you make when his thrusts pick up. You were laying on your back, it was hot so a thin layer of sweat covered your body. Your face was flushed slightly and your hair was all over the place. It was already parching so trying to calm down and ignore his erection was becoming increasingly harder. It wasn’t like this would be the first time ya’ll hooked up. Every now and again you’d find yourself in his bed.

Not really a romantic relationship but more of a friends with benefits situation. Taking your stress out on one another if you will. Not being able to resist temptation, he moves closer toward you. Kissing the skin above your shorts gently. Moving your shirt up slightly to peck your ribs and waist. He chuckles to himself as you cutely stir in your sleep. Tilting your neck to the side and stretching your body. He started kissing your neck, pressing his groin against you. That was what made you come to, smiling and wrapping your arms around his neck. He reached his hand down and pulled your shorts to the side. Pushing one of his fingers inside of you and spreading your wetness around your folds. 

“Fuck, always happy to see me yeah?” he rhetorically asks, continuing to massage your clit. 

You were gripping onto his shoulders, trying to keep your sounds to a minimum. Biting onto his shoulder as he started working his fingers inside you. He stops, not wanting to give you too much pleasure before earning it. Getting on his knees and pushing his boxers down, just enough to expose his length. 

“Flip over, on your stomach,” he said quietly, which you did without question. 

He pulls your shorts to the side, tracing your wet slit with his tip. Biting his lip to hold back a groan. He started fucking you with his head, you kept trying to push yourself back. Everytime you did he’d pull back, not enough to fully pull out but also not letting himself fuck deeper into you. He teased you like this for a while, to the point where you were expressing your frustration verbally. He leans down, pressing his back front against your back. Wrapping his arm around your head, forcing your mouth to be pressed into his elbow. Then fucking his length into you as hard as he could, pressing his lips against the top of your head. Holding you in place as you wiggled and squirmed, trying to adjust to him stretching you. 

“After all that whining and begging I'd think you’d be thanking me,” he giggled, moving his hips from left to right; enjoying the feeling of your hot walls squeezing around his member. 

He was in so much physical pleasure that his mind was in a euphoric state. Weird because he normally kept his feelings out of his head when fucking. He’s had sex with other girls but with them it was more of an exchange of pleasure but it was different with you. His entire brain was consumed by you, daydreaming about fucking his babies into you. Mindlessly rutting while imagining all the ways he could mark and claim you. As if he was trying to get closer than having your skin pressed against his. It was hot before he started destroying your pussy, now that the two of you were panting and working your bodies against one another the space was sweltering. Sweat was dripping off both of your bodies and neither of you cared about the wet slapping noises your bodies were causing. 

“ mine-mine-mine,” he quietly growled into your ear everytime he pounded into you. At this point you were a fucked out pile of need, not giving a fuck about your moans or who was around. Legs shaking and trying to buck your ass up to meet his thrusts. 

“Shut the fuck up or I swear to fucking god i’ll stop,” he said, slowing down his rhythm to a stop. Instead of trying to protest, you figured the fastest way to get what you want is to follow instructions. 

“Good fucking slut,” he growled before picking back up, faster than he was doing before. 

Your walls were beyond sensitive and raw, biting down on his flesh trying to shut the fuck up. He was muttering random possessive words like ‘owned’ and ‘mine’ as his thrust became erratic. Becoming less and less comprehensive as he neared his orgasm. Feeling your body go limp as your walls start to pulsate and convulse around his throbbing member while you cum make him go crazy. Immediately sending him over the edge. His brain rotted and dissolved into pleasure as he pumped you full of cum. Loving the fact that he was marking you in more ways than just bites and hickeys. Leaving himself buried inside you while catching your breath.

Almost falling asleep like this before he pulled out. Steadying himself on his knees and spreading your ass to watch his cum slide out of you. Using his finger to push some of it back in, amused by your squirming from sensitivity. He takes off his tank top and uses it to wipe you down before falling asleep next to you. The next morning, the two of you woke up and got ready like nothing happened. You tried to hide the smirk on your face when getting dressed; picking out an outfit that hid the love bites on your shoulder. Jet noticed this and kissed you on the cheek before greeting everyone outside. 

“Did anyone hear all the growling last night? I was making me nervous,” Sokka said. 

“Yeah I did too, must have been a bear,” Jett said which seemed to satisfy the group like he did you last night.