#i had only ever heard of dark milk and white

[ask-the-roommate-au]

Nope. Spicy did nothing wrong. The worst kind of chocolate is cereal. Noone can do a good chocolate cereal.

WHAT ARE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT

[chuusmuts]

imagine losing your virginity by helping catboy!kabukimono

smut. afab reader, lactation, fingering. grammar errors 🥲

the idea of him fucking you while you rub his ear, his tail swishing back and forth, and purring is so 😳😳

you rubbed your eyes, opening them sleepily and were surprised to see catboy!kabukimono on top of you, straddling you. "kabuki, wha- do you need anything?"

he could feel himself getting hard as he saw your nipples through your thin, white nightgown. oh, imagine how tasty your milk was. and you're so pretty, laying underneath him like that. he wanted– no, he needed to fuck you right now.

"i... umm... need your help." kabukimono replied, trying to sound as innocent as possible while maintaining eye contact with your breasts. his ears twitched, signalling his growing arousal. "you see... i'm experiencing some discomfort, and i was wondering if you could help me relieve it." he bit his lower lip nervously, hoping that you wouldn't notice the blatant desire in his eyes or the throbbing between his legs.

his tail swished back and forth behind him as if he was nervous and excited about all this. it took you a while, but eventually you got what he meant. "are you in heat..? how can i help you, then?" this was both you and his first time so it was a little nerve-wracking, at least to you.

kabukimono hesitated for a moment before nodding his head slowly. "y- yes... i am. and i was hoping that you could help me find relief from my symptoms." his voice was low and seductive, almost purring as he spoke. "you see, as a cat hybrid, it's natural for us to seek out mating during these times." he licked his lips, looking at you intently. "would you be willing to help me?"

as he spoke, he couldn't help but let his gaze drift downwards towards your exposed nipples. the sight of them made his mouth water, and he could feel himself becoming even more aroused than before.

noticing his gaze, you covered your nipples with your hands as you felt yourself heating up, your cheeks turning pink. but then again, he needed your body relief him from the symptoms. sighing, you lowered your hands to your side as you glanced away, "okay, fine. do what you need to do. just... try not to be so rough, okay?" you said shyly, your voice small.

kabukimono grinned, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he heard your agreement. "i promise to be gentle with you." he then leaned down and gently nuzzled into your neck before moving his face closer to one of your breasts. with a soft purr, he began to lick at it slowly and carefully, taking his time to savor the taste of your skin. kabukimono began to lick and suck on your exposed nipples, tasting you full. he used his tongue to tease and stimulate them to their fullest extent until you moaned and squirmed ever so slightly. his other hand grabbed the second one, massaging and squeezing it gently until the light liquid started coming out of the nipple. your hand moved into his dark cat ear as you started rubbing it gently.

kabukimono purred loudly as he felt your hand on his ear, and he continued to lick and suck on your breast with renewed vigour. he could taste the sweetness of your milk flowing from the nipple, and it only served to make him more excited. as he drank from you, kabukimono became bolder in his actions. he slid his hand down your body, gently caressing your thigh before moving it up to cup your pussy through your nightgown. the sensation of your wetness against his fingers sent shivers down his spine, and he couldn't resist the urge to plunge them inside you.

arching your back, you cried out as he plunged three fingers inside you, causing your eyes to get teary. he continued to suckle on your breast, using his tongue to play with your sensitive nipple while his fingers abused your hole. you gripped the duvet tightly, this was the first time you had sex and you didn't expect this at all. moans poured unabashed from your lips as he scissored your walls, stretching them apart.

kabukimono moaned softly as he felt your walls clench around his fingers, and he increased the pace of his thrusts, pushing his fingers deeper into your pussy. the combination of the warmth of your body, the taste of your milk, and the sensation of being filled by him was overwhelming for him. he couldn't hold back any longer - he pulled his fingers out of you and positioned himself at your entrance.

"s- slowly!" you cried out as he pushed his erected cock between your folds, your legs spread apart. tears streamed down your face, both from the pleasure and pain.

sure, it felt good to be filled up, but it hurt especially since you're a first timer. he pushed his cock so deep until it hit your g-spot, he could literally see his bulge poking inside your stomach.

he hesitated for a moment, hearing your cry of pain and concern. he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of love and understanding. "sorry, i should have been more gentle with you." he whispered the words before leaning down and giving you a tender kiss on the lips.

slowly and carefully, kabukimono resumed his thrusts, this time going at a much slower pace. he focused on making sure that each movement was gentle and comforting rather than forceful and overwhelming. as he did so, kabukimono leaned down and captured one of your nipples between his teeth, gently nibbling and suckling on it while continuing to fuck you. his thumb found its way to your throbbing clit, rubbing it in a circular motion. bucking your hips up into his fingers, you moaned as you felt yourself getting close to your orgasm.

kabukimono moaned softly as he felt your body responding to his touch, and he increased the intensity of his ministrations. his fingers continued to work their magic on your clit while his teeth played with your nipple, sending shivers down your spine. with each thrust, he felt himself getting closer and closer to his own climax. he could feel the pressure building within him, and he knew that it wouldn't be long now before he reached his mutual peak.

kabukimono purred loudly before he was sent over the edge, his hot seed shooting into you as he pressed his face into your neck. the feeling of your warmth and tightness around him was incredibly intense, he couldn't help but moan into your ear, muttering something in japanese. you could feel every single twitch and jerk as his hot load spilt into your hole. soon, you came with him, the knot in your stomach tightened and you squirted on his cock, your arm over your lips as you moaned, trying not to be so loud. more tears rolled down your cheeks, your face getting warm and you felt like you couldn't move your legs anymore.

when he finally came, kabukimono collapsed onto your body, panting heavily as he felt the last remnants of his seed trickle out of you. he laid there for a moment, simply enjoying the sensation of being connected to you in such an intimate way before rolling off to the side and pulling you who was still breathing heavily into his arms, his cock still kept buried deep inside you. "that hurts a lot than i expected." you huffed, wiping off the tears that stained on your cheeks.

kabukimono held you close as she spoke as he could feel your wetness still coating his member. he smiled softly, knowing that he had given you something special. "it can be overwhelming at first," he said gently, "but once we get used to it, it will become even more pleasurable."

it was his way of saying that this wasn't the last time you're gonna help him.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Exile.

a/n I cried so hard I had to write something so here we are. So,I guess I'm inviting you to come cry with me. 🫧

warning: just sadness

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The heaviest thing that weighed on Azriel's chest was that he couldn't find a turning point that changed it all. A breaking point that shattered a perfect picture. That started to pull apart the only thing he thought was unbreakable in this world.

You had been his everything ever since Rhys's mother had taken both Azriel and Cassian under her wing. He still remembered you peeking from behind your mother's dress. Big, purple eyes staring at him. As big and as scared as his. As skittish and nervous as him. You two had observed each other for weeks. Running away the moment your eyes met. Where Cassian and Rhys had been loud and obnoxious. You and Azriel had always been quiet and observant.

Then one evening, you showed up at Azriel's favorite corner of the cabin. One that he had claimed as his. Often sitting there all alone in the shadows. Legs up to his chest as he watched everyone else. And no one ever invaded that space. Until that evening, when you had rounded the corner with a bowl of freshly baked cookies and a glass of milk, you splashed some of it as you walked. Your tongue slightly poked out as you concentrated on your task. Then that bowl was on the floor, right in front of Azriel. Your chest heaved as you took short, labored breaths. For a moment, Azriel had been too stunned to even move because no one had ever brought him anything. If people came to him, it was to hurt him, not to be kind.

Like a beaten puppy, he slowly crawled out of the dark corner. His eyes never left you as you two stared each other down. His scared fingers reached for the cookies. The warmth of them settled into his palm. He felt his heart hammering against his ribcage, yet he still extended his left hand to you. Offering you one of the cookies to share. Your shaky finger followed Azriel's movements until you both stood there on the dim back side of the cabin.

Loving you after that came easy. When his mind spiraled, all Azriel needed was to see you. When he felt like he couldn't breathe, all he needed was to look at your purple eyes, which never failed to remind him of the pure irises that bloomed in late spring. He saw you everywhere and in everything. And you were his in so many ways. You had searched and put together every single broken piece of his soul. Rebuilding him into a man with your slow and gentle love.

The night when the carriage with you and your mother was attacked, Azriel thought that he was going to lay down and die alongside you. Rhys didn't ask for Azriel to come. But he didn't have to. The spymaster was driven by the force of need and fear that ran through him like venom. No matter how many interrogations and battles he had been in after that, nothing compared to the vicious slaughter he unleashed that night alongside Rhys and his father. Back then, it had been the first time Azriel had killed. But it didn't weigh on him like he thought it would. All he wanted was to bring them back so he could slaughter them once again.

You. It was you and nothing else for Azriel after that. No more whispers of secrets. No more sneaking around. No more late-night snacks on the rooftop, so no one would hear you. Azriel wanted to love you loudly. To know that there wasn't a part of you that didn't belong to him. That wasn't his. And as he spun you around in your white dress, with irises in your hair, as your laughter echoed and filled his chest, he was sure that he had found his forever.

But now here he was. On the same old balcony. On the longest night of the year, gripping the glass of whiskey in his hand. Watching as Lucien of all people spun you around. Pulling a laugh after a laugh from you. A sound Azriel hasn't heard for months. And that sound had always been his to claim; now all he got were scowls and angry head shakes.

"If looks could kill, brother..." Cassian tried to bump Azriel's shoulder gently, but the spymaster's eyes didn't leave you even for a second. "It's good to see her like that," Cassian sighed, throwing another dagger straight into Azriel's heart because the whole family had been aware that something wasn't right. After almost four hundred years together, you two had come crashing down the rocky shore. "You'll figure it out, Az. Don't beat yourself...", Cassian had started, but Azriel wasn't going to sit here like a fool. So, with a harsh slam of his glass, he pushed past Cassian without a second glance.

You're not my homeland anymore

So what am I defending now?

You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out

I think I've seen this film before...

Oh, how easy it had been to love him. To do it all for him. You had built your world around his broken heart. Carefully helping him stand on his shaky feet. It was the hidden parts of Azriel that you loved the most. Azriel, who put notes in the books you were reading, so that at a certain point, with you flipping through it, you would come across a folded piece of paper that read, "Never loved anyone as much as I love you. Your smile alone leaves me defenseless, my little terror."

You had kept them all. You still had them in a wooden box at the bottom of the closet. Every letter that Azriel had even written. Every note. Every dried flower. You bathed in that soft side of him that was only for you. With him rushing home to you so you could eat your dinner together and talk. Talk for hours until a comfortable silence would fall, and you two would find yourself in bed together, cuddling against one another as you read books in silence. Or Azriel read parts of his book to you.

A lifetime with him seemed too short at one point. Until it didn't. You had an inkling that something was changing the moment your brother brought Feyre home. That same night, you had woken up, drenched in sweat. Gasping like a fish frown on shore, with Azriel grasping at your hands. "It's fading," you breathed out, clawing at your chest till you drew blood with your nails. "My love," Azriel breathed, pulling your trembling body closer, "Breath with me." But all you did was shake your head and say, "It's flickering away." You grasped at him for dear life back then. And maybe you should have held on tighter. Maybe you should have sunk your nails into him. But your mother had raised you differently, and you weren't going to settle for scraps.

You'd like to believe that you knew that she was going to take Azriel away before even they did. Because Azriel had always been a savior. A fixer. An answer to the cries of the wrong soul, and oh, did she cry... Helpless little lamb in disguise. So when Azriel started smelling of her, you didn't even hear your heartbreak. You had tried bringing it up. Tried to get him to see, but the prettiest of flowers were often poisonous.

"All I'm asking is for an evening with my mate, with my husband." Your voice bounced off the walls as yet another fight rippled through the house that always felt cold now. "We had dinner last week," Azriel said blandly, buttoning up one of your favorite shirts. "And to think we had date nights every other day," you chuckled bitterly. "We are not kids anymore, Y/N," Azriel bit back, making you glare at him even more. "Oh, so love is now for children. Good to know that you had put an expiration date on this, Azriel", you said, tossing the kitchen towel you were holding to the side, "It would have been nice if you had informed me about it."

"See, this is why I hate being here." His voice roared back, making you take a step back. You fought many times. But you were always the firecracker. The terror. Azriel's composure never let him cross a line. But this. "You and your nagging drilling," he tapped against his temple angrily. "Not everything is about you. For once, give some thought to other people's needs."You had only blinked at him then. Watched him slowly dress up before he walked out of the door with a loud bang.

"A dance?", you blinked, nearly knocking your glass over as you flinched, but the person in front of you was quick to catch the delicate glass. "Apologies; I had no intention to startle you so much; I didn't think you were that deep in your thoughts." A familiar gaze warmed your soul. "Drop the formalities, Lucien," you chuckled softly. "I will if you will come to dance with me; it's a crime to sit through Starfall," Lucien once again extended his hand to you, and with a light shake of your head, you let him pull you up.

The music was rather lively, one you would come across at the city fair during a festival. But Rhys had always liked his tunes wild when he was happy. And your brother was more than happy. "Eris is convinced that I have two left feet," Lucien muttered as his arm wrapped around your waist, "So if this ends in distress, please keep my shame with you." His words made the corners of your lips tug upward as you chuckled lightly. "I would never cause you such disgrace, emissary," Lucien simply smiled at you before twirling you around.

At first, it was a bitter dig to seek out Lucien. A venomous desire to sting Azriel with his poison. You had come back so proud that night, knowing that after a day of horse reading with Lucien, his smell would have been all over you. And it was. And Azriel had stalled the moment he stepped through the door. His eyes grew dark before he angrily undid his cloak, tossing it to the side.

"What was Lucien doing here?", his voice was low and bitter, but all it did was make you smile. "Who said he was here?", you muttered, continuing to flip through your book. You didn't need to see him to know that he was scowling at you. "Why is his scent all over you, Y/N?" You knew now that it was a desperate attempt to grasp the last bits of his love and attention for you and what you were doing was a pathetic desire to catch one more glimpse of his care. "I took your advice. Listened to others' needs", you said with a smirk. Azriel's hands were on you in an instant. Grasping your forearms as he pulled you up, your book clattered to the floor. "What fucking games are you playing?", Azriel said through gritted teeth as you pushed back against his chest, only to make his grip tighter. "You hypocritical bastard. So you can whore yourself out, and I'm just supposed to watch you!" You barked out, the magic you shared with your brother sizzling beneath your skin, roaring to explode around you if needed. "I'm helping her get settled," Azriel growled, letting go of your arms once the darkness around you two grew thicker. "On your dick is where you're settling her," you snarled. You wanted. Waited. For him to deny it. To explode with shouts about your accusations. But he simply shook his head before winnowing away. Oh, how you had ragged that night. Smashing every vase. Every frame that you could reach. Cursing him in all the languages you knew before collapsing to your knees in soul-ranching sobs.

"I've lost you once more," Lucien's soft voice brought you back. You had lost track of the time you two had been swaying. "I'm starting to believe that I'm an awful company," he chuckled under his breath. "No, no, Lucien, you couldn't be further away from that," you reassured him, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder. "Does this have something to do with your husband plotting my death the whole night?", your head instantly turned to Azriel. As if in second nature. You didn't even need to think about it. You always found him in the crowd. And sure enough, his deathly glare was pinned on you two.

It twisted your guts because there had been a time when that look would have sent you to your knees. To know that he was ready to fight for you. Ready to tear down cities. To get his knuckles bloody for you. Now it just left a bitter taste in your mouth. And it felt like a mockery at best. He had lost his claim to you months ago. "I'm sorry," you muttered, ready to apologize on Azriel's behalf, but suddenly your voice died down. Because all of these weeks it had been you, patching up that broken image of you two. Glossing over the flaws so that your family will not see anything. So that no one would need to worry. So that no one would see just how broken you had been.

A loud bang of glass hitting the table was the last straw for you. You flinched as your eyes shut. Angry tears fell on Lucien's deep green tunic. But you refused to let anyone else see you like this. "Y/n," Lucien muttered, "If this is because of my doing," but you quickly shook your head. Pleading eyes looked up at him, and for the first time, the shock on Lucien's face was enough to make a quiet sob escape past your lips. As the mask you had been wearing for weeks finally slipped. "Please," you breathed, "Help me; I can't do this anymore." Lucien's hand quickly cupped the back of your head as he pressed your trembling frame closer to his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly beneath your ear. "I've got you. It'll be okay", he muttered quietly, looking around for anyone who had spotted the scene that had unfolded. "Come on," Lucien muttered after a moment, "Give me your hand."

It was way past the end of Starfall when Azriel walked through the front door. He was exhausted. That type of exhaustioned that seeped into your bones. That made your body ache. That made that permanent feeling of coldness linger deep within. One you couldn't chase away, no matter what. Undoing a couple of the buttons on his black shirt, Azriel stepped deeper into the house. Into a too quiet of a house.

"Y/n," Azriel's voice echoed through the living room. He knew it was way too late to be shouting like that, but this unsettling dread pulled at his chest. "Y/n," he called out once more, hoping to hear you angrily striding to yell back at him, but he heard nothing. Not a single rustle of the sheets. Not the sound of your feet tapping against the wooden floor.

Azriel was about to angrily march up the stairs himself. To beg for you to scream at him if he had to because this silence that he sat in for hours in the house of wind had him running in loopholes that were near to suffering him. But his eyes fell on something glistening on the living room table. The only thing still shining in this dim place. The spymaster took a couple of quick steps toward it. A sick and sour feeling spread through his stomach. Almost sending him backward. There was no way. There absolutely could not be a way. Azriel's hand reached for a light blue diamond ring that had been a part of his heart for so long. But there was no way because you had it on your finger tonight. He had seen it tonight. And if you weren't here, and if the ring was. Azriel swallowed thickly, cold sweat coating his hands and face. You wouldn't have just taken it off here and forgotten it, unless...

I'm not your problem anymore

So who am I offending now?

You were my crown, now I'm in exile, seein' you out

I think I've seen this film before

So I'm leaving out the side door...

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[fairyhaos]

how seventeen deal with your period cramps

requested by anon: "Would it be ok for you to write : How would Seventeen react and help with bad period cramps ? (I am currently on my period and its killing me... I can barely stay up, cramps are hurting as hell, I have nausea, hell I feel the worst...)"

notes: tw for menstruation pain, reader therefore has a uterus

masterlist

seungcheol:

tbh he's kinda a little bit Clueless, but he tries his best. cannot fathom the amount of pain you're in, but he does his research and immediately jumps up to boil water for a hot water bottle the second you tell him you're on your period. is confused by the idea of pre-menstrual syndrome n thinks that it's very unfair: bc you can be in pain???? even before the actual menstruation itself???? that sounds terrible :((( always has his arms open for a hug

jeonghan:

spots its arrival better than you. can tell when your period is coming like some sort of seer. has a cupboard full of chocolates and snacks which he stocks up constantly and allows you to take your pick of whatever you feel like having when you're on your period. insists that you don't have to do anything while you're going through the worst of your cramps, tells you to just lie down w the hot water bottle he made for you n he'll do whatever you need okay? 

joshua:

you Need to tell this man whenever your period starts bc otherwise he'll get upset that his calendar is all messed up :(( i firmly believe shua is the typa guy to keep track of your schedules for you, even if your cycle isn't regular. does Everything you want. you wanna eat a whole tub of Celebrations? he's rooting for you. need to cry bc the world is just too frustrating? tell him what movie you wanna cry to, he'll stream it illegally if that's what it takes. will probably also end up crying w you, but hey, we love a supportive guy <3

junhui:

curses the menstruation gods every time you tell him you're having cramps again. is essentially trying to stuff you full of painkillers the entire day bc he hates the idea of you being in pain </3 wanted to buy one of those period cramp simulator machines to see how bad it was for you, ended up chickening out when you told him vv seriously that it was like being thrown into the pits of hell. isn't allowed near the kettle to boil water for you (due to previous Mishaps), so he'll give you a pillow to put over your stomach and hug you in his arms for warmth

hoshi:

is confused for all of two seconds every time you tell him you're having rlly bad cramps (again?? didn't you have them last month??) before it clicks in his head. coos and baby-talks to you, offering his shoulder for you to sleep on if the physical contact will help. builds you a pillow fort to get comfortable in practically every single time. you had a really bad headache one month, and so now he's constantly talking in a hoarse whisper when your cramps are bad

wonwoo:

he's not Entirely sure what to do, but he does know that period pain can often manifest itself in mood swings, so he's always extra caring and considerate around your time of the month. will Let himself be yelled at if you do end up getting frustrated, then will hug you and pat your hair to help you calm down after. makes hot water for all the hot water bottles that you're ever gonna need. 

woozi:

makes sure you take your painkillers on time, and also makes sure you eat. he's heard from his mom that loss of appetite can happen often during periods, especially when cramps are bad, and so he encourages you to eat foods with lots of magnesium and nitrates in it. will hug you if the cramps are really bad and you're practically crawling to him in tears. will probably hug you even if you're only pouting and talking in a sad voice tho, tbh. 

minghao:

he researched that milk chocolate and white chocolate increase cramps pain, and so now he only ever gives you dark chocolate that's 60% cacao and above. has encouraged you to take up meditation when you're not on your period, saying it'll help strengthen you. you're still not entirely sure it's working, but then again, it's better to try than not. swaddles you in fluffy blankets and cushions bc seungcheol stole the hot water bottle to help with his indigestion or something

mingyu:

he's a lil confused, but he means well. carries you bridal-style everywhere you wanna go. searched up the types of foods best to eat to help with period cramps, and cooks food with lots and lots of spinach in it. regardless of whether you like it or not, because it's good for you and makes you feel better. spoon-feeds you the soup he makes, asks if it's making you feel warm inside with his adorable bright eyes

dokyeom:

has a little corner in the bottom of his wardrobe full of sanitary pad packages, bc one time he panicked when you asked him to buy you some and practically cleared the whole shelf of them. also has like 3 boxes of chocolates stacked on top of them bc of that same time where he panicked and ended up buying too many. as a result, always has supplies whenever you need them. is a little clueless too, but he's willing to help w lots of hugs and warmth!! 

seungkwan:

Knows your menstruation cycle for you. frets if you're a few of days early or a few of days late. if you have an irregular cycle, then oh god he's analysing everything to see if there's any sort of pattern. ngl he's a little nervous of you when you're on your period, but he's always ready to open his arms for you to draw you in for a hug if you need. starts crying if you end up crying bc of the pain/ mood swings, bc he's an empath okay n he feels your pain so bad

vernon:

i get the feeling he's like. the hidden pro at dealing with cramps. you tell him that you're hurting, and he's already boiled the kettle to make you a hot water bottle, arms laden with snacks and blankets and do you wanna come into his room to relax and watch the new movie he's fixated on or do you wanna just go to your room by yourself and sleep? big encourager of sleeping through cramps, bc he swears it helps so much and actually. he is so right it really does

chan:

went through like five different brands of paracetamol with you during your previous cramps to see which one was the best n lasted the longest. steals the expensive chocolates from mingyu's stash bc really, the guy has far too much and it's more deserving to go to you when you're in pain and also pls share w him as a thankyou for getting them for you. offers to run you a bubble bath to help you relax, often forgets about the bath while he's doing other stuff and almost makes it overflow

request guidelines

[bucknastysbabe]

Ser Criston is OC Princess (Rhaenyra’s younger sister) sworn protector & is in love with her but he knows he shouldn’t but he can’t help being obsessed and Rhaenyra hates it because it’s her little sister & so one night she asks Ser Criston to sneak out for a walk and they kiss & get caught by Rhaenyra idk

Hi yes I totally got carried away bc Criston has me in a chokehold rn. I hope you enjoy, I love the obsessed aspects. I also got to explore the other indications in F&B that insinuated Cole rejected Rhaenyra. Thanks for the ask🥰🥰 I don’t usually do OC’s but since it’s a Targ I mean I can only leave so much up to interpretation! But it was fun and diff

Rating: Mature

Tags: Forbidden love, unreliable narrator, Criston’s POV, oc-ish Princess reader, Sorry I made Rhae a bitch ugh, Criston’s snappy ass, Alicent is his bestie, masturbation, fantasies, dark Criston, virgin reader, clit orgasm, open ending, angst and pining galore, Religious Guilt, Harwin doing his best okay?, character study-ish, obsessive/possessive Criston

Word count: About 6k

@aemonds-holy-milk @aemonddtargaryen

Lucerra Targaryen, called Cerra, was oft said to be the spitting image of the late Queen Aemma. She retained more of her father’s demeanor, none of the resolute strength of Aemma and the fiery nature of young Rhaenyra. The fire that had entranced Criston once. He was told all of Cerra’s quirks when they made him her sworn shield.

He so much did not glance Rhaenyra’s way now, the burly Ser Harwin towering over the heir. They shared a kiss once, Criston ran, their close bond was severed. He knew down deep she coveted her uncle. It burned him, but he did his duty. The duty hanging around his shoulders like a lead weight— just cloaked in white wool. Criston found himself bewitched again.

The sweet Cerra, her gentle innocence and piousness. Something unmarred, not yet tainted by the world. The knight wondered if she was the maiden reborn, sent to test him. He prayed and prayed and confessed repeatedly to get rid of the wicked sin in his heart. Usually after touching himself.

Criston had always been weak when it came to the fairer sex. He’d fall madly in love like a boy and his first fuck. Just no fucking, more of the merest scrap of appreciation and touch had him by the vulnerable throat.

He coveted the young princess badly. Sometimes she would grab his palm when frightened, or on a walk to the Sept. Criston felt disgusting wondering how that soft hand would feel around his cock, the pale flesh clashing against ruddy. Cerra didn’t know, couldn’t know how weak he was.

Rhaenyra obviously knew of the metaphorical chink in the armor. She was becoming increasingly nosy of her sister’s doings as of late. He sourly thought to himself, ‘spoiled cunt couldn’t have me, of course she’ll make sure I part from her sweet sister.’ He frowned in annoyance at the elder’s recent interruption.

He’d merely helped her up to reach a flower in a tall bush. Certainly didn’t expect chaste Cerra to be so…close. She had wrapped her arms around his neck, startling him as she sighed, “You’re too kind Ser Criston, my white knight. What would I do without you?” She didn’t mean anything licentious, the Princess never did. Once a lordling flirted and she blushed to her ears and called for Criston to escort her away.

He preened about that for days. He’d heard the idiot boy scoff, “Stupid Dornish mutt.” Criston grinned and leaned toward the shorter lad, keeping his voice low. The princess shouldn’t hear such filth. He hissed, “This mutt would be glad to cave your fucking skull in with a Morningstar. Don’t come near the Princess ever again.” That was that. Back to his original thought.

At the moment Criston couldn’t help but sink into her soft gesture, pale white waves and lavender eyes gazing up as she laid her head on his chest. The brunette laid a chaste hand on her waist, but the moony look on his face was likely brighter than the Hightower’s beacon.

“My lady is kinder, no need to praise your sworn shield, merely doing my duty Princess.”

His cock was full to bursting at her sweet scent and wide eyes, framed by pretty lashes. Cerra closed those lavender orbs and inhaled gently, relaxing in the center of the Godswood. Criston’s hand thumbed little circles into her waist, feeling the princess relax more, leaning into his stronger frame, lips subtly parting.

“Cole! This is an unseemly position to be seen in with my sister if Larys’ spies are about,” Rhaenyra called with a smile and cocked head. Lucerra stepped back with a gasp, flush flooding her cheeks. She stammered, “R-Rhaenyra, no no, I w-was simply.”

“Simply what?”

Criston cooled his expression to state, “The princess was expressing her gratitude for me. Nothing more.”

Lucerra nodded, gesturing to the knight, cheeks still flaming and eyes downcast. She certainly wasn’t acting as if this was innocent. Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes and stepped forward to grab her sister’s hand. Casting a glare toward him she hissed, “I need her for the afternoon, you can wait outside the door.”

He stiffly nodded, anger flaring up in his chest so violently Criston feared he would yell at the heir. Instead he murmured, “Yes princess.” From a distance he trailed the two blondes, aggravated as all Seven Hells. Rhaenyra never paid attention to Cerra, especially since having her first babe. Damned bitch. Where was her loyal whore Harwin?

Waiting outside Rhaenyra’s chambers, Criston thought over her precious sister’s actions. He wondered what it would be like to touch her more. Graze over her sensitive neck, breasts, lower belly. She’d probably squeal if he suckled on a pretty tit. He inhaled sharply, catching himself on a low moan. Repentance would be in order soon.

Maybe he was being punished now— waiting outside like a mangy dog.

For hours.

Cerra came back out with a strange look, apologizing, “Sorry Ser Criston, that went longer than expected, I didn’t think my sister would want that much of the day. Shall we head to supper?”

He nodded, extending an arm forward. The princess was quiet, eyes flicking toward him a couple of times. Criston asked, “Yes princess?” Lucerra stopped on a dime and faced him, face close to tears. She warbled, “You’re not mad are you? I- I can’t deny family. Rhaenyra actually uh- helped. I was acting imprudent in the Godswood, I apologize for being wanton and brazen Ser.”

Oh. Criston blinked a couple of times. She was expressing more than mere affection? He wiped away her tear with a gloved hand, sighing, “No princess, I could never be mad at you, what’s in the past is in the past. You are anything but wanton, the picture of the maiden to me. Don’t let her scare you.”

She smiled, tipping forward on her feet some, eyes entrapping Cole easily. Then he was engulfed into a hug again. What had brought in this madness? He couldn’t complain, yet.

She breathed, “Oh, oh I was so worried you’d be mad. We should go to the sept tomorrow, yes?” The knight’s lips quirked up as he replied, “That sounds splendid my Princess, we shall go in the morn. Now let’s get you to dinner?”

She grabbed his hand again, practically skipping, chattering now about her time with ‘big sister’. Criston listened, he always did, but he needed to go jack his cock before going mad. Then wallow in guilt about it all night at the edge of Cerra’s room. She preferred him taking watch from inside her quarters. Such a frightened little lamb.

Wallow in guilt did he. While the princess slept in her grand bed, Criston couldn’t help but replay the shame in his head. As soon as he’d escorted her to dinner, he went to his quarters and stripped down heavy armor and pants. The man shuddered at the sensation of cool air hitting his achingly flushed cock.

He pictured the pristine Targaryen underneath his tanned body, writhing with pleasure. Criston spat on his hand and worked his prick, panting softly. Cerra’s doe eyes would be teary, overwhelmed with the pleasures of the flesh. She’d whine while he’d pump into her virgin cunt, “Oh, Criston, oh gods! Don’t stop!” The knight gasped and shuddered at the thought, groaning as he spilled all over his hand.

He blinked again, running a hand through his hair. Lucerra was awake, hair shining like silver under the moonlight. She spoke in a soft rasp, “Ser Cole, are you still here?” He laughed at her silly question, replying, “As always, can’t trade me out like the Cargylls.”

“Oh, good,” she pulled the covers off the bed and stretched, white nightgown pulling in the right wrong places, “I had a horrid dream. I can’t possibly go back to sleep yet.”

Criston frowned at her admission— it pained his heart to have her upset. He questioned, “A bad dream? What was it about?” She stepped onto the cold marble floor, shivering, shrugging on a thicker robe hung nearby. His eyes followed her smaller form come closer, curling up in a plush chair adjacent to his position. She wiped a hand across her face, still groggy.

“I can hardly remember now. I was alone, so alone, not even my dragon was around. I k-kept calling out for someone, probably you,” she pulled the robe tighter, “I don’t know. Maybe it was the wine.”

Cerra’s lips were drawn tight, brows pulled together. Criston wanted to pull the pretty girl onto his lap, she was still shivery. He thought of a decent response, something comforting. The knight settled on, “It was obviously a dream, I’d never desert you my Princess. That big white beast wouldn’t either.”

Her lips curled up to let out a tinkling laugh— making Criston’s sick heart skip a beat. Cerra replied, “Cloudwing is not a beast! She’s a good girl.” The brunette chuckled along with the Targaryen, smiling helplessly, such a lovesick dumb dog was he.

A beat of silence grew over them, heavy with something. The earlier revelation of Lucerra behaving with romantic intentions still lay undiscussed. Criston suggested gently, “You will catch a cold if you do not get back under the covers, princess. You won’t be alone, I swore an oath.”

One he would break if she just asked. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted that truly or not. He’d gotten quite far being the son of a common born steward.

She bit her lower lip and shrugged, “I’d much rather sit with you Ser Criston. I’ll be okay as long as I keep my feet off the dreadful stone.”

“Lucerra, please, shall I pick you up then? You need sleep, the Sept remember?”

Her gaze locked onto the white knight’s intensely. Lucerra fidgeted with her robe, the damn air growing heavier. Criston found it hard to think when she was being so confusing. She finally spoke, a meek whisper, “Yes, that would be nice, thank you.”

Lifting the blonde was easy, her squeak and grasp onto his shoulders adorable. Criston had to bat away more thoughts about how simple she was to handle. He laid her down gently, taking the coat she shrugged off. Lucerra grabbed onto his hand with a fervent tightness as he turned back to his chair.

“Please, don’t leave me so alone, I don’t care what Rhaenyra says. Just keep me warm?”

Her pretty face was achingly raw, open, eyes tinged with fear. Criston swallowed heavily. He was weak. He couldn’t run away this time. Didn’t want to run away, bask in the sweet sin. Maybe it was meant to be. Maybe it was a test from the seven.

“Criston?”

“Yes, just, just- give me a second to get my armor off.”

Now he was shivery with want, warring with trepidation. Ridding his body of armor was horribly slow. The awkward clank of each piece coming off. Each heavy noise reminded him what he was potentially giving up. Soon Criston remained in simple breeches and a linen shirt. Lucerra pulled back the covers and smiled nervously.

He climbed onto the soft bed, pulling the blankets back over their frames. Unsure of what came next, Criston simply laid on his back and gazed at her. Lucerra murmured, “Must you be the pious one now?” He raised an amused brow at the bold comment.

“What’s that supposed to mean princess?”

She frowned and nestled into his side, wrapping an arm around him and tucking soft hair into the crook of shoulder and jaw. Criston exhaled sharply, unused to such intimate touch after donning the white cloak. He reached over to grab her leg, pulling it snug across his lower belly, thankfully out of the way of his swelling prick.

Cerra gasped against his neck, giggling, “Good, now I don’t feel like a concubine.”

“Concubine? Pfft. You’re white as snow compared to my cloak,” he replied.

“It’ll be our secret, I’d fear I would perish without my white knight. I swear it upon my heart.”

He couldn’t respond, lest it be something out of control. Instead he rubbed her back and knee, squeezing once in agreement with Cerra’s statement. Soon she fell asleep, softly puffing against his neck. Criston joined soon after, utterly content and warm.

The simple action of cuddling up couldn’t slake the thirst that grew within him for the lovely princess. They had remained chaste and he arose early every morn to get dressed and step back outside the wooden door. Lucerra would seek out touches in secret, holding pinkies with him, laying her head on an armored shoulder in the Godswood.

She would share smiles with the knight across the throne room, Rhaenyra’s calculating look upon the utterly obvious pair. Criston knew one could see into his bleeding heart if they looked into his eyes. The way Princess Lucerra grew tighter and tighter into his side around the keep, lavender eyes sparkling aroused many curious onlookers.

Rumors began to swirl. Criston reluctantly stood outside her chambers a couple nights a week. One night he encountered a poorly prying Harwin Strong. The fellow knight had made one too many passes and he called out, “Get your big ass over here!” He didn’t mind Harwin, but did mind being spied on.

The hand’s son looked sullen as he walked up to Criston, flicking down a dark hood. He gave a sheepish smile, apologizing, “Uh, you know, the girls want what they want.” Criston crossed his arms and deadpanned, “Your girl wants me expelled from King’s Landing on account of rumors”

Harwin gave him a look, disgusting pity lacing his features. Criston reiterated, “The girl remains pure, she looks to me as a protector, you know how easily frightened the princess has always been.” Somehow he felt like a liar. Still her pretty lips and cunt remained untouched.

“Sure Cole. Just be careful, you know what the punishment is of breaking your oath.”

Criston’s temper flared to life, taunting Harwin with a fake smile, “You be careful too now, two Valyrians making some beautiful brown haired babes is a bit strange no?”

Harwin shoved him into the door with a snarl. Breakbones’ power at full force knocked the wind out of Criston, but he wheezed a laugh. He was no better than him— just another lovesick fool. Strong rumbled, “Keep your damn mouth shut and I’ll stay on my side, but I know you got the princess primed for your dirty lowborn cock.”

Criston didn’t want to get his face pummeled in. The raucous already probably woke his sweetling. He gave another smarmy look and hummed, “Noted, Strong.” That earned the knight another shove and the burly man stomped off to lick the bitch’s teats.

The door opened behind Criston, a bewildered Lucerra in her robe. She questioned, “W-what was that? Are you alright Ser Criston? Come in, please.”

His dark eyes scanned down the hallway once more before stepping inside, sighing as she enveloped him into a warm embrace. Criston spoke lowly, “Big sister had sent her own shield to spy on me. We should be more careful.”

Lucerra frowned, lips setting into a pout. She murmured, “We’ve done nothing horrid. Yes, unseemly, but I’m intact. Turn around, let me get off this dreaded armor.” Criston appreciated her desire to learn how to discard his Kingsguard armor— although he averted guilty eyes from the way the Targaryen would carefully hang his cloak, like it still meant something.

As they laid together, she complained into his neck, lithe fingers playing with his inky hair, “You’re right, we should be more courtly, take more precaution. Of all of my sister’s misgivings, why does she care?”

Criston played dumb, it’s what he was anyway. Lied again and said he had no clue why Rhaenyra took such a deep distaste to the pair’s relationship. He sighed, “It will work out, more careful, yes. C’mon, to sleep, sorry about the noise.”

Another night in her arms was a blessing to Criston. He would be reluctantly busy the next day. The king needed a whole retainer for his appearance in public at the Dragonpit. It was the anniversary of Aegon’s landing. Luckily the princess would be in his peripheral. Along with the conniving heir and her other eyes.

It was a banal affair, King Viserys smiling and waving to the crowds. Queen Alicent held her youngest child, Daeron. Rhaenyra and Laenor were surrounded by her bastard brood, holding her own babe Joffrey. Named after that flimsy knight who Laenor was fucking. Poor sap died in the city under strange circumstances, likely Daemon’s doings.

Criston met eyes with Harwin, vaguely disguising a sneer. He ignored the brute and turned his vision back to the crowds, the smallfolk staying relatively easy. Lucerra stood next to her elder sister, holding Lucerys, her namesake. Her smile was gorgeous, a couple of boys cheered for her, throwing a flower.

After the public spectacle, the princess gave a shy smile to Criston on his horse, cheeks rosy pink before the door was slammed shut by the cunt Daemon. He raised a brow and hopped onto the front of the wheelhouse, offhandedly commenting, “Cunt struck and you haven’t even defiled my niece, Ser Crispin.”

The Dornishman clenched his jaw so hard he feared it may crack a tooth. He rode ahead, staying silent, Daemon didn’t forget a slight and surely hadn’t forgot when Criston embarrassed the rogue prince in tournament. Pompous ass.

More annoying feast and merriment kept the knight from his pretty girl. Lords and ladies filled the grand dining hall, dancing to and fro. He stayed put against a column, watching her. Lucerra wasn’t much of a dancer, but she let the old Sea Snake guide her around some turns.

A body sidled next to him, a familiar face and scent. The Queen herself, Alicent smiled softly up at him. She stated, “You’re distracted Ser Criston.” He sighed in return, “I’m sure you’re quite aware of the rumors. Seven cursed my weak heart.”

“Lucerra’s harmless,” Alicent glared toward the non-green side of the table, “It’s her lying sister, you remained truthful. I’ve been trying to stifle the rumors. Have you stayed chaste? I hope you have on account of your neck, my dear Knight.”

Criston leaned down to murmur, “Agonizingly so. I fear I’ve been bewitched yet again. Harwin Strong was sniffing around the other night.”

Her lips turned to a foul grimace at the mention. Alicent hissed, “The realm’s delight is carting around her bastards like trueborns and she’s deadset on potentially ruining her sister’s reputation to get at you.”

“Always been selfish, hasn’t she,” Criston laughed.

Alicent smirked, placing both of her hands over the knight’s. The green queen spoke plainly, “Please be careful dear heart. You’re a valuable asset to our proud dynasty.” The long-suffering redhead disappeared into the throng of people, ever an ally for him.

Back to scanning the surroundings. Daemon was spinning with Rhaenyra, likely talking horseshit in High Valyrian. He scanned for Lucerra, finding her cornered by the tables with a noble clad in the colors of House Darklyn, known bootlickers.

His chest tightened with jealousy. Criston seethed to himself, chanting internally, ‘I will not make a scene, I will not make a scene.’ The Darklyn lad was too close for his liking. It suddenly felt too hot under his heavy armor. He was close to the brink, gripping the pommel of his sword until his knuckles whitened.

Lucerra seemed uncomfortable, face uneasy and body stiffening. The Darklyn fuck was leaning into her space, lips undoubtedly spewing disgusting things a lady shouldn’t hear. The princess gasped at something he said and turned away, getting yanked back towards the man.

That was enough.

Criston stormed forward, shoving through the nobility, snarling in anger. He yanked the uncouth prick by the collar and dragged him far away from his princess. Parts of the crowd stopped to stare, Rhaenyra perking up to look. The princess blushed and excused herself, quickly finding another dance partner in the more palatable form of Tyland Lannister.

“What are you doing? I have done nothing to the King!,” the black haired teen spat. Criston continued to haul the boy past the columns to a quieter place, anger clouding any sort of judgement. He shoved the noble bitch against an alcove, gauntlet pressed against twitching neck.

Darklyn gasped and writhed for air, eyes wide with fear. Criston hissed, “The Kingsguard protects the family and the king. You should know better than to touch the princess like that. I ought to gut you, throw you onto the spikes of Maegor’s Holdfast and watch you rot.”

The stinking reek of piss filled Criston’s nostrils. He looked down in disgust, muttering, “Weakling piss-ant. Don’t dare come near her-,” his threat was unfinished as he was whirled to face Lord Commander Westerling. His face was hard and eyes flinty— obviously disappointed.

“Come Cole, we need to have a word.”

The walk was quiet and unsettling, only the clank of their gear and footsteps sounding off as they reached the quieter area of Maegor’s Holdfast. Criston apologized immediately, “My temper Ser, I apologize, he was manhandling the Princess.”

Harrold Westerling shook his head with a resigned sigh. He rumbled, “You’ve already toed the line Ser Cole. I don’t want to have a capable fighter like you dismissed or facing the black, gelded at that.”

Criston’s roiling emotions died down into a despairing state— his chest fluttering with fear. He nodded and held his head down in obeisance. Westerling continued, “You must take a step back. You’re of the most elite of elite men, a big step from your beginnings. Princess Lucerra is an enchanting girl, I know this is hard, but as soon as you took the oath— this is your life. You must cease all feelings for the girl or request to be transferred to another.”

Criston fought back the warble in his voice. He wanted to rip his cloak off and shout his love, make someone understand. He swore, “I know Lord Commander, I know. I have never defiled the girl, I would never. This is my calling and I’m shirking it. I’ll think about requesting an exchange.”

Harrold clapped him on the shoulder and regarded him with kinder eyes, “Good. I was struck too once. I had many princesses to tend to with Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s litter of dragons. Just, please, pray on it and keep it in line Ser Cole.”

“Yes sir.”

He sulked about, Harrold ordering him to his chambers until the was called to his usual watch over his Lucerra. Criston hoped she was alright. He guiltily turned dark eyes onto his shrine of the seven. The small flail and beaded necklace awaited. He had been ignoring the faith, so entrenched in sin Criston could hardly bare to look at the Mother’s cold face.

He prayed and prayed to the mother for relief of his twisted desire, depraved lust, uncontrollable need to consume a sparkling untainted virgin. Then to the warrior to ease his temper, make Criston a calm knight, not blinded by rage so he may protect accordingly. Down the list he went until the dead skull relief of the Stranger awaited.

“If I fail, take me into your arms and punish me accordingly,” he whispered, a couple tears leaking onto his armor, shining by the candles. He would confess another time and receive his penance. Bloodletting seemed fit. Flagellation made him think clear, the pain taking away sickness in mind and body.

A sharp knocking snapped Criston out of his religious wallowing. He called out, “I’m coming.” The door opened to the queen and Ser Rickard Thorne. They both were cloaked and Alicent’s doe eyes looked worried. The younger knight questioned, “What? What is it?”

Alicent shushed him and murmured, “Our dear Lucerra and…the heir,” she spat the word like it was bile on her tongue, “Had some intense words after the feast. Ser Thorne escorted Cerra to her chambers.”

Thorne’s gravelly voice was low, “It was quiet and I checked in as she was in quite the state. She’s not in her chambers and the servant’s passage was left slightly ajar.”

Alicent frowned, “I know she’s upset and frightened. I would rather you find her. No one knows of this. I doubt she would leave the keep but gods forbid. We checked underneath the keep and Thorne most of the passageways. I will keep this at utmost secrecy, dear Criston.”

He nodded, quickly gathering his gear and a dark cloak to cover the white of his garb. While fastening his belt he quickly thanked the pair, “I will find her now. Thank you my queen, Ser Thorne. You may rest now. She will be returned.”

He chastely kissed the queens ring, patting his fellow knight on the shoulder and strode forward, urgency at his tail. Criston was fearful, dreadfully so. What did Rhaenyra do? He bit his lip, worked his jaw, making his rounds around the shadows of the outer courtyard. The goldcloaks were obviously not doing their job, playing cards up in a tower.

He worried she finally broke the princess, told Lucerra of the past. She would be heartbroken. He sped his pace, deciding to check the Godswood. Somewhere she would still feel safe. He knew Cerra wouldn’t run anywhere outside the walls, she’d have a fainting spell.

Speeding up he decided to take a turn and clamber up the wall into the Godswood. He must not be seen. Especially after tonight’s mishap. Swinging a leg over the thick red stone, Criston shimmied down and landed with a dull thud. The clouds covered the moon— making it dreadfully dark. Lucerra must truly be upset. He swallowed down a tightening throat. He needed to be the protector, not a weeping craven.

He scanned around the dark trees and arches to the left. It seemed empty. He moved forward, keeping to the brush, listening. Closer towards the heart tree he heard the familiar little hitching of breath. His Cerra. The fear of what came next shivered his spine.

Criston called gently, “Princess, Princess, is that you?”

He slowly approached, holding out a hand like he was soothing a skittish foal. He could barely see her, just the white of hair and a shadow of a figure. He took another step, stopping when she wept, “No Ser Cole, go away, I wish to be alone.”

All of his fears had come true. She’d turned against him. He shook his head. No. This wouldn’t do. The knight would change her mind. Lucerra Targaryen needed him, not Ser Cole, not the loyal dog, just Criston Cole of Blackhaven’s marches.

“Ser, please, I cannot bear this,” Cerra warbled.

He came to her side, kneeling, swallowing another agonized noise when she turned from him. Criston begged, “Sweetling, what’s the matter, why are you distraught? It pains me.” She sobbed, hands wrenching into a now-dirtied dress.

The brunette engulfed her tinier frame into a tight grip, her back plastered to his. Much like they slept many a night. She fought and tried to wrench free, crying, “No! Let go! I’m just a replacement for her! I always come second! Ser Cole!”

He held tighter, exploding, “I love you!”

Her writhing stopped, eyes turning to him, confusion on fine features. Criston swore, “Bythe Seven and my oath, I love you more than anything Lucerra.” She shook her head, confused, “No, no you don’t, Rhaenyra told me why y-you became my shield.”

He hissed, “No, she lied, she lied lied lied! I kissed her yes, but I ran, I knew it was bad. I was an idiot— she merely wanted a fill in for Daemon. I swear it to be true,” he continued in a softer voice, “I never thought I would love so strongly and deeply as I do with you, it’s more than lust. I would worship you until my last breath, chaste forever.”

Lucerra bawled again, curling into him, soft thighs straddling his own as she wept. He held her and shushed and coddled, praising the perfect maiden’s presence. He dumbly reiterated, “Never, never has anyone taken my heart like you have.” Her bejeweled hands gripped into his cloak.

Her face was dangerously close to his, sweet scent filling the knight’s nose. She whispered in a rasp, “Do you mean it? You love me? I love you, it nearly broke me to hear Rhaenyra tell me.” Criston frowned, pressing his forehead to her own. He murmured, “I was dumb, I bolted after it was initiated. I didn’t tell you, b-because, I didn’t want to lose you princess.”

She placed a hand over his rapidly beating heart and said, “I believe you. I forgive you.”

Criston was so relieved he didn’t realize the tear leaking down his cheek, kissed away by impossibly soft lips. She whispered fervently, “Kiss me Criston. Kiss me like you love me, like you said.” He carefully caressed her jaw, peering into those adoring orbs.

He closed the gap, lips finally meeting, the Princess sighing into him. She clung to his chest still, passively letting Criston take the reins. He chastely shared tender pecks, letting Cerra get into a rhythm.

Her lips opened as the kisses got more desperate, boiling tension rising. She whimpered when Criston lapped into her mouth, moaning himself. She tasted like sweet wine and cinnamon, opening for him beautifully. Cerra wrapped her arms around his neck, thin fingers gripping his long locks. He moaned again, lashes fluttering. All guilt was out the window when in the embrace of this goddess.

He tilted her head to intertwine their tongues, Lucerra shivering helplessly, whining his name. She was shy, better for Criston to take her warm mouth. The princess plastered herself tight to his body, breasts pushed up from the movement.

He’d be good. He will not stain her maidenhead, as much as the dark part of him sought to claim every inch of her. The brunette slid his hands down her waist, squeezing soft hips. She mewled again, feverishly smacking her lips against him. Criston felt her overwhelmed trembling, eyes teary just like he fantasized.

She pulled away with a string of drool, panting, “I- Criston- it aches.” His cock jumped at what the implication of that was. He pressed little kisses down her jaw and neck, basking in her cute noises. He purred, “What aches Princess? I shan’t dare to hurt your heart again.”

She blushed so heavily he could see it even in the pitch of the night. Criston smiled gently, breathing hotly against her ear, “You can tell me, sweet love.” The princess shivered again, hips bucking fruitlessly against his garb.

“Y-you know. M-my,” she looked away, “My flower.”

The dog in Criston grinned at that, the innocent little thing. He hummed, “Have you soaked your linens Lucerra? I don’t have to breach your maidenhead to pleasure my sweet girl. Would you like that?”

She practically sobbed, “Please, my knight, Criston. Our little secret.”

“Always,” he said, taking off his gloves and Cerra’s trembling hands undoing the heavy gauntlets. He slid warm palms up her plush thighs, so soft yet strong from dragon riding. She desperately sought his lips to cover an indecent sound.

One greedy hand spread open a thigh, the other swiping thick fingers through her slick cunt, dragging upward to graze her swollen bud. The princess shrieked into his swollen lips, Criston doing his best to cover the noise.

He offered his free hand up, half-groaning, “Suckle on my fingers sweet girl, can’t have you waking half the keep up.” Lucerra shyly opened her swollen lips to let Criston’s calloused fingers in. He pressed slightly on her tongue, earning a cute little garbled whine.

“Now be good my love, I’ll make you feel better, always will,” he promised. Gathering more wetness seeping from her cunt, Criston circled his fingers around that bud, teasingly thumbing too, dragging the roughened digit against her tender untouched flesh.

She seized and cried around his fingers, drooling and sniffling. Criston cooed, “Mm, feels good Cerra? Made for me, swear it, keep singing for me.” He picked up the speed of his fingers, circling and pinching to make her squeal and writhe on his lap.

Soon the princess was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, unable to stop crying and shaking, thighs trembling. Criston suddenly realized his cock was throbbing and twitching, ready to fill his garments like a green boy.

He desperately rambled, “C’mon my love, let it go, let the pleasure take you, I’m so close, together yes? Kiss me, yes, yes!” They gnashed teeth and noses against each other, no finesse in these last moments, the little death.

She gushed over his fingers first, Criston swallowing her suprisingly quiet keen. His belly tightened, balls drawing up, whining out of his nose at the ecstasy. Cumming absolutely untouched, so intense and powerful. They continued to sloppily kiss, stop to pant, kiss some more until the climax passed.

Criston withdrew his hands from her cunt, wiping them on his cloak. The princess was sapped of energy, head tucked under his scruffy jaw. She murmured, “I think I saw the stars.” He smiled, the giddiness of cumming warping his senses, “Mhm, me too sweetheart. But we need to get you back to your quarters.”

He carried her, sharing more intimate pecks and nuzzling in the darkness, all the way back to her quarters. Ser Thorne seemed to sigh in relief before taking in their debauched state and quickly leaving the scene. Criston placed her down and looked around once more before pressing her into the door, taking her bee-stung lips.

“I love you, I love you,” she sighed.

“I love you more, my princess,” Criston praised.

“Do you listen sister? What will they think when they find your maidenhead shredded?,” Rhaenyra stepped out of the gloom. The bitch took a servant’s route. Lucerra’s face reddened in anger, “Like yours was? Good thing Laenor prefers the company of his pretty squires.”

Criston balked at the brazen comment, lips curling up. The elder sister’s hands balled up, pale skin blotching up in anger. She hissed, “Enjoy your night Lucerra,” pointing at Criston she added, “I’ll see you gelded and sent to the wall.”

The future queen whipped around and left with a furious curse. Lucerra looked to Criston for comfort, getting picked up and led into her bedroom. He grumbled, “The Queen won’t allow for that. Rhaenyra has her own secrets to deal with. Relax, relax, let me get you ready for bed.” His lovely girl did so, quiet but still affectionate. Criston ignored the feeling that this would be the close to the last night.

His gut was right. Within a fortnight he stood next to the Queen, tears in his dark orbs. Rhaenyra was absconding to Dragonstone, as she was the heir. Viserys obliged her request to take her sister, indicating she would begin the processes to marry her off. Lucerra gave her goodbyes, hugging the queen, her father, and then him.

“My heart lies with you always, I love you my white knight,” she whispered gently before stepping away to climb upon her white dragon. He remained stony, utter hate in his heart for Rhaenyra Targaryen. He would make sure she never saw happiness, just as she took his.

Alicent grabbed his hand and promised, “Criston, you will have her again. I may not be her, but I will be good to you as my sworn shield.”

He would tear through bone and marrow to get that chance. For now, he would wait, wait as long as needed. Criston Cole always got what he wanted, just had to work for it. There was a war brewing and she would be on the right side. His side.

[weird-an]

There is a crossroad just outside Hawkins, where corn grows so high it's hidden from anybody's view.

Blood runs down Billy's temple and his head pounds like Neil didn't stop hitting him. Neil who found his Mandate magazine and went fucking crazy.

Billy can't go back. Billy can't go back or he's going to get fucking killed. By his own father. He had never seen Neil so angry - and Neil has always been angry, but not like that.

He has thought about it for a while. It's just some make belief, some hocus pocus, but Billy needs a miracle. He doesn't wear shoes and pebbles tear his holey socks apart. He just grabbed the box and ran.

It's eerily silent. Almost midnight - he thinks. He doesn't have a watch. He digs through the ground with his bare hands. He buries the blue box he stole from Max in the hole. It's a jewelry box she never uses. He has gotten a bit of dirt from the local graveyard, a cat bone from a school's exhibit and an ugly photo from his last school in California where he had to smile while his back was still aching.

A fat drop of crimson blood drips on his fake smile. He wipes his forehead, before he can remember that his hands are dirty.

He stands up. Nothing happens.

It's a cold night. His breath forms little clouds, floating into the night. The moon is gone, waiting to get reborn. An endless circle of birth and death.

"What a surprise." Steve Harrington stands behind him. Same as usual, wearing a pastel blue and pink polo shirt and his ever perfect hair fluffy and only slicked back a little.

"Billy Hargrove needing help?" he scoffs - and it's almost as if they were on the court and not on a crossroad, about to make a deal. "Wanting to gift me his soul?"

There's a red shine in his eyes, but more in the way that it seems like a reflection.

"You're a... demon?" Billy asks. Maybe that's some stupid prank. Maybe that's an explanation why Harrington is so unearthly pretty. "And you're going to High School?"

And sucking at it, is something he doesn't add, but he knows how many classes Harrington is failing. Tommy won't shut up about it. He would have rather expected Hagan to be a fucking demon and not Harrington who now gives him a goofy grin.

"Oh, well..." Harrington says. "Let's say I made a deal a few years ago and then I unfortunately died early."

There's a headline Neil had read out loud to them before they moved here. About a girl, Barb Holland, being thought dead for three weeks - and then rising from the dead, ringing at her parent's door like she just went out to buy some milk.

"God has blessed this place," Neil had said. Apparently Hawkins is about as cursed as Billy feared it is.

"Enough about me." Harrington tilts his head. "What do you want?"

To live, to be free pops into Billy's mind, bright and colorful like a rainbow.

Billy thought about it a lot. First he thought he wanted his dad dead. So that he can never touch him again, so that he doesn't have to be afraid anymore. But if Neil dies, he doesn't have a father or a mother.

The thought is a dark shadow, making him sick.

"I want him to stop hurting me," he says instead. It won't heal the scars, it won't unbreak his bones, it won't make it forgotten, but maybe more bearable. It's what he wanted when he was five, when he turned ten, what he wants to today and what he always wished for whenever saw other people blowing out the candles on their birthday cakes.

Harrington's eyes flicker to Billy's bloody mullet and his dirty socks.

"You need to tell me his name," he says, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I'm just a demon, not a mindreader."

"My dad," Billy grits out. "Neil.. Hargrove."

There is pity crossing Harrington's face, something he has always been afraid of, but it's gone within seconds, maybe only been a shadow and gets replaced with a red glow, irises more crimson than hazel now.

"Let's seal the deal." Harrington smiles, teeth shining white. "You know how we do it, right? Your soul for me doing you a favor."

Billy heard the stories. Billy didn't expect to become a part of them. Billy doesn't think he has a soul and if he does, it can hardly be worth anything.

Harrington smells like expensive aftershave and smoke.

Billy presses a kiss on Harrington's soft lips. It's a rush, a relief. He feels something shift, something clicking into space.

Harrington laughs into the kiss. "The deal is already done, Hargrove."

Which means Billy's soul is Harrington's now and Neil won't ever hurt him again. The blood on his temple dries. The cut on his scalp stopped throbbing, there's only a faint sting reminding Billy of its existence. He feels like he just jumped into the ocean on a hot summer's day.

He licks across Harrington's mouth, hungry for more.

"Greed and lust are sins, Billy." It almost sounds like a compliment.

Billy's throat turns dry and he wants to pull away, humiliation burning away the cool calm that has begun to spread inside his chest.

It's just a deal - and that's closed now.

Harrington tugs on his bottom lip, sharp pain joining the sweet sensation.

"If you ever feel like sinning, come and find me," Harrington purrs -

and then he's gone. Billy stands on the road, lips tingling, still smelling Harrington's aftershave on him.

He walks home. It's one of these nights when spring is about to fade, summer's heat lurking around the corner. Still cold, but not that he's shivering.

Cherry Lane is deserted, a few lights flickering when Billy comes home. The door is open. He doesn't hear Neil shouting at the TV.

He washes the blood off his face and goes to bed. He wonders if he can dream without a soul. He wonders if it's working. His lips burn and he still feels Harrington's mouth on his.

[jaune-submissive-and-breedable]

Going for the three piece here.

Ruby wasn’t the only one left tormented, mocked, and horny by Emerald sending videos of her dominating Jaune. Nora also had her fair share of watching Jaune be pinned down, forced to worship Emerald’s ass, and edged as he commanded to insult his former friends for his Goddess. Only difference was that Nora was far more horny than sad when watching these videos, even begging for more to be sent.

Elsewhere, away from their teammates, Nora squatted against a tree. Her shirt lifted and held between her teeth exposing her d cup breast to the cold night air. Her breath was harsh and rigid, her face dripped with sweat and was as red as Ruby's cloak. Her teal eyes glued to the scroll in her left hand, the video playing interesting her greatly, while her right hand slipped beneath her panties and pumped her fingers in her sopping wet cunt frantically, a dark stain growing larger and larger as more of her juices gushed out.

Ruby was not the only one to receive videos of Jaune from Emerald. In truth, Nora had been receiving those videos as well but kept it a secret from her friends. Not because she was ashamed of her leader's situation, nor for the concern of what they'd do if she had shown them. She kept it hidden from them for one reason, she like seeing Jaune get violated and broken. At one point, she was horrified by what she saw, it even sickened her that someone would be so sadistic. However, as time pressed on, she found herself liking the sight of Jaune's moans, his pleas, his cries, his submission. It tickled her to no end. Each time she watched the video, a bit more of her disgust melted away, with lust replacing it. It wasn't long before she caved completely and began openly masturbating to her leader's torment. Cumming harder than ever thanks to the videos. Tonight was no different.

Nora's fingers pumped deep inside her slit as she watched the video on her scroll. This one consists of Emerald smothering Jaune beneath her plump bubble butt, her mocha-skinned ass cheeks covering his entire face. Rather than use her hands, Emerald took to using her feet to stimulate his cock, as a result, small streams of pre-cum snaked their way over her digits. Looking into the camera, she smiled brightly as Jaune began speaking.

"I love your ass mistress *Slurp* I can't get enough *kiss*" Nora arched her back a bit as she heard him.

" would rather stay here and tongue fuck your puckering starfish than go on a date with Weiss. She's so pathetic she couldn't even get a fuck boy like Neptune to like her. "

Emerald giggled as she heard him prattle on with various insults "What about that cat girl? I bet you'd love to lick her ass too~"

Jaune snorted in response, giving her hole another lick before continuing "I would put my body anywhere near her. She probably let the entire white fang fuck her up her ass."

"what about your teammate, Nora? She has a nice body you know"

The girl in question didn't pay attention to what was being said by the duo. She no longer cared what was being said about her or her friends. Instead of imagining it was her dominating Jaune's face with her own rear end. Making him memorize her taste, forcing him to inhale her scent, and milking him dry of all his seed.

"That's right, Jaune.....like my sweat ass clean" she hissed, fingering her pussy as fast she she could.

On the video, Emerald pushed his head back into her crack, moaning loudly as she felt her climax approaching.

"Get ready blondie....I'm gonna......gonna....gonna"

She didn't finish her sentence. Instead screaming loudly as she came on Jaune's face. Her juices coated the boy in sticky fluid. At the same time, Nora arched her back and came alongside Emerald, her own cum staining her panties once more, some of it seeped through the fabric and landed on the ground. She slid down the tree as she rode out the last bit of her climax. She breathed heavily as she sat on the cold ground, her arms falling to her sides exhausted.

"Don't worry Jaune..." she panted "I'll save you......"

She did mean what she said, but rather than return him to duty, she'd keep him for herself. and maybe let the other girls have a go at him. Picking up her scroll once more, upon doing so, she saw Emerald had sent her a message.

'Jaune says he can't wait to see at Haven ~'

Reading the message, Nora smiled lustfully, eager to actually have real fun with Jaune and potentially steal him from the thief's grasp.

'Neither can I.' she typed 'so...send more videos. I need more'

She immediately began to finger herself once more as she heard and saw her messages blowing up with media attachments. She'd have to head back at some point but now was not that time.

Meanwhile, Ruby had just came from watching the video Emerald sent. Raising her fingers to her face, she stared at the sticky substance between her fingers. Unexpectedly she suddenly licked her fingers, making sure to gulp every last drop of cum of her digits. As she pulled her fingers away from her mouth, she stared at her hand shocked by what she had just done. Yet, a small part of her relished in the taste and the sight of her friends submission.

[someonebeatyoutothisuser]

Can you please rant to me about how much you hate GingerBrave smut and Pure Vanilla? I hate GingerBrave smut too

OML YES PLEASE. For starters, it's clear that pure vanilla cannot handle his own problems alone and I'm honestly sick of people not talking about it, people be saying that he's one of the strongest ancients but I'm not seeing it, it's no shit people see him as a TWINK because he fucking acts like one, He can't face his own problems and relies on others to do so, like white lily with shadow milk cookie and GingerBrave for the cookie of darkness + dark enchantress cookie, it's also clear he gives no shits about his own people nor about his own fucking family, let's talk about how his youngest descendant was left in a forest to fucking die by his own family and pure vanilla didn't even know, also, you get how pure vanilla is ONLY involving GingerBrave? Talking about taking him to war and everything? Like what the fuck makes him think it's okay? Even if GingerBrave wants this, why the fuck would he still do it?! GingerBrave is a three year old in a twelve year olds body, and also I'm pretty damn sure GingerBrave was being sent into this, the others were given a choice and he couldn't even be there for his friend. If he had just heard her out he would've prevented this, GingerBrave had no reason at all to be thrown in this, and also im sick of people victimizing him, like "ohh poor pure vanilla" or "pure vanilla is a good guy!" Even if he regretted his past mistakes, he is clearly training GingerBrave to be his tool only to toss him out when he's done, he doesn't care about GingerBrave or anybody that isn't himself, I'd actually argue he's worse than dark enchantress cookie, pure vanilla is dumb and that's saying a lot for the supposed ancient of wisdom, then when I say this to his fans about why I don't like him they want to get all mad and shit, pure vanilla cookie failed to represent and lead his people which was why the raisin village was being invaded by waffle bots and the vanilla kingdom became timeless and over taken by DE, I'm surprised everyone forgave him after everything he did, it's like he has everyone wrapped around his finger, in my opinion pure vanilla is the WEAKEST ancient I ever fucking seen, at least the other ancients can handle their own fucking problems and not send a literal child into this, pure vanilla is supposed to be this peace maker and voice of reason but I feel like people are glorifying him way too much. Pure vanilla lacks general remorse and emotion towards his people and those around him. Better yet, I'm sick of people making pure vanilla cookie seem like a father figure for GingerBrave, like dark cacao or dark Choco or the other ancients I can see that but pure vanilla?

And as for GingerBrave smut, I fucking hate it, people are generally sick in the head, especially the bitches who would age him up to make it okay, like when will they learn that it isn't fucking okay, people would proship this boy, draw him pregnant and even make jokes of the one ad, if it was someone like sorbet shark cookie or sherbet cookie, there would be absolute out rage, but the minute it's GingerBrave all of a sudden it doesn't matter. People had pair GingerBrave up with everyone, his fucking brother included, I swear if it was some other character there would be actual cancelations. When it comes to other characters being proshipped, they wanna scream, get angry, start an actual outrage, rant on how their minors but the minute it's GingerBrave who is one of the most shipped fucking characters is the victim of this, people wanna make jokes or not care, it's actually hard to find people who would actually act out on proshippers who'd proship GingerBrave to no end, like people would do it for cream puff, people would do it for wizard cookie, hell people will do it for strawberry crepe cookie but the minute it's GingerBrave it's fucking SILENCE. Like not a word, NOTHING. I hate how people turn a blind eye on GingerBrave, hell I swear the only reason people are even talking about it is because their favorite adult cookie is in it, hell some people would say they like it when it comes to GingerBrave, you notice how they would age GingerBrave up in some aus to ship him with adults, even making some rape him it's wrong and fucking nasty but people are acting like it's okay because it's fucking GingerBrave.

[windblume-wishes]

I feel like you all are in some need of Diasomnia family content so I shall happily deliver to you my dearest travelers~ So, here you shall have a sweet fic of Malleus and his brand new baby brother Silver.

𝕃𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨, 𝕀 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖…

Malleus Draconia and Silver - I Loved You At Once

Warm late spring sunlight flooded through the open windows of the cozy woodland cottage Lilia and his new newborn son now shared together illuminating the entire living space in a warm yet soft spring glow. Lilia sat in his chair peering lovingly at his now sleeping baby boy as he slept soundly, he softly sang a lullaby his old, dear friend and princess once sung to her unborn son- reminding him of how he should probably inform Malleus of the baby as soon as possible, that is unless the chatty woodland fairies already blabbed to him about the surprise.

The old fae stood up smiling into the basket where the sweet infant boy dreamed the afternoon away. He had the sweetest face Lilia had ever seen, it was hard for him to hate the child even after knowing everything. Silver’s sweet face now sported a soft smile only a newborn could make- a smile so pure and beautiful that it could practically purify anyone with even a hint of darkness.

A knock then sounded at the door and the deep, smooth voice of Malleus called out, “Lilia? Are you home? Might I come in?”

“Yes, come on in, Malleus- but do keep it down, I just got him to sleep! Shh!”

‘Ah, this must be the newborn I heard about…’ Malleus thought to himself as he opened the cottage door and let himself in. “The woodland fairies told me you took in a child, a human one…”

Those blasted woodland fairies could not keep their mouths shut for the life of them, could they?

“Malleus, this is Silver! Isn’t he adorable~?” Lilia gushed like any new parent would over their infant. “Such a sweet little thing~!”

The draconic fae peered into the basket and stared at the child with confusion and a slight hint of what one might say is disgust. This was cute? What’s next, a sock eating troll would be considered a fashion model?

“It looks like a hairless ape- it’s so ugly one can almost feel sorry for it…” Malleus smirked, earning a slight slap on the arm from Lilia. “What? I was only speaking the truth, Lilia.”

“Be nice, you may grow to love him deeply, after all, I’ll be training him to be a knight for you. Oh! Yes! I must head off to go do a bit of shopping- turns out human babies cannot survive on flower nectar alone and require a thing called powdered milk- what an odd thing…” Lilia quickly gathered his list and money pouch before walking to the door with a smirk. “You will be on babysitting duty~! If he gets fussy, rock him and sing him a lullaby~! Bye~!”

“But Lilia! If I hold something this fragile I- he’s gone…” Malleus sighed but immediately turned to see the newborn stir in his once peaceful sleep and let out his wails of distress. “Oh dear… Silver, that is your name, right? Let’s not cry now- ah- I don’t know any lullabies- wait… maybe this would…?”

Malleus carefully picked up the wailing infant and held him as gently as possible, placing a sturdy hand beneath his bottom and one on his tiny back as he began to sway softly and hum a tune he did not know the origin from. Slowly but surely Silver’s cries softened and his beautiful aurora eyes gazed sleepily up at the draconic fae. Malleus made brief eye contact with the tiny human in his arms and offered him a smile before continuing his humming, sure enough the baby drifted back off to a deep sleep.

He sighed, finally the baby was asleep again- how could one simply awaken to wail their tiny lungs out and then fall asleep as if nothing had happened? It truly confused Malleus, but nevertheless he continued to hold the baby and stare at him, taking in every little detail. Slowly he laid the baby back into his basket bed and continued to stare at him- he noticed a small white spot on Silver’s pointer finger resembling what one May consider a scar, he brushed the idea off as it was likely a birthmark. Malleus brushed a gentle finger across his pudgy cheeks, earning an adorable squeak from the baby boy as he stretched a small arm up, eventually latching his small hand onto Malleus’s finger.

Malleus froze, the human infant held his finger as tightly as he could, smiling in his sleep. Curious creatures humans were, despite his hatred towards humans he was slowly softening his feelings of such hatred as the baby held his finger- one so small not fearing a creature such as himself, a creature of the night and a fae of darkness. Surely this human would grow to fear him and even Lilia, right?

No, Malleus shook his head, he likely would not grow to fear the darkness as such creatures were the majority in the Briar Valley. Though, it was obvious from looking at the baby that he would indeed grow pure of heart and full of light, those few seconds of staring into those beautiful eyes of his were enough for Malleus to see that much.

Those eyes, those aurora eyes… Why were they so familiar to him? Malleus shook his head, it was likely just a matter of his imagination, nothing more.

“So small and yet so fearless to have reached out and have taken the hand of darkness itself… have you not an ounce of fear, Child of Man?” He asked softly, knowing full well that an answer was completely out of the question from the baby. “Silver, I suppose it’s a better time than any to bestow a gift upon you, I hereby bless you with the gift of kindness, may you always find the good in everyone in this era of peace…”

Suddenly Silver’s aurora eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Malleus giggling happily, Malleus could not help but chuckle a bit himself, tracing Silver’s face once more with his finger.

“I see you have awakened to laugh before your future king, brave of you, beasty, let’s see if you are brave enough to handle a dragon’s roar and a bit of fire, hm?”

Malleus let out a draconic growl and a small puff of green fire before the baby, trying to be as intimidating as possible but he was only met with more giggles and smiles- how strange, humans would normally fear the roar of a dragon and the sight of fire, this little one seemed to take it as a form of entertainment.

“Beastie, I do believe I hate you for this… have you not an ounce of fear? I- more giggles, really now? Not even my fangs frighten you?”

Alas there was no fear from the baby, he just continued to laugh at his prince and reach up to him happily as if he could sense that Malleus was not one to fear but to love. Malleus smirked and gently wiggled a finger across Silver’s bare baby belly causing the most adorable giggles to erupt from him.

“You might just be the first human to not fear me, beasty… for that I must applaud you, being brave enough to be so carefree before me fufufufu~”

The door to the cottage slowly opened and there was Lilia with his baby haul smirking at the sight of Malleus being so gentle and loving towards the baby he just an hour ago gave a look of disgust towards. Malleus froze- immediately composing himself and pretending that nothing happened, not daring to look Lilia in the eye as he huffed a little in embarrassment.

“What’s that, Malleus? Can’t face me because you are embarrassed to admit you find your new baby brother adorable~? Hmmm~?”

“Lilia, that is not at all what- hmph- I suppose he is not half bad as I believed… I suppose I can stay a bit longer to um, assist in caring for this Child of Man…”

Lilia only laughed as he picked up Silver, gently swaying him in his arms and placing some kisses atop his soft, fluffy hair all while his baby nuzzled closer to his warmth, cooing softly. “Did you miss me? Yes you did! You are truly the cutest little thing, turning Malleus here into a softie, good boy!”

“Lilia, that’s not-” Malleus sighed and hid a smile, “I suppose arguing is pointless.”

“Good! Now let’s get him fed and in the bath! Now where is that coffee mug for me to feed him his milk….”

“Oh dear…” Sevens above help this baby boy survive Lilia’s parenting tactics…

[astoldbyaja]

Osaka Sunbird

One shot on what would happen if Koji Shimazu didn't die after his fight with Caine. What if a past love actually saved him?

Koji Shimazu x Black Female OC

In Another Life

Koji Shimazu gasped hard, his body jolted almost as he saw a white ceiling. Was this the afterlife? He moved to sit up but the sudden pain to his body made him still. His vision was a tad blurry, he didn’t have his glasses on.

“Akira…” he rasped lowly. Where was his daughter? He remembered fighting Caine, the final blow, and his vision going dark in his daughter’s arms. “Akira!”

A high-pitched noise made him look to the side, it almost sounded like someone was shushing him? He saw blurred flowers painted on walls and that alone was familiar to him. He was in one of his hotel rooms. It wasn’t demolished? There was silence now and he tried to move his hands only to see his wrists chained to the bed. What was going on.

“What is this!” he shouted, a panic overcoming him mixed with confusion of his surroundings and fear he didn’t know where his daughter was. “AKIRA!” His chest hurt but he didn’t care. Suddenly the door of the room slid back and a black figure stood there. Koji was still as he saw the slim figure of someone in a black mask with two white dots side to side and a big wide smile painted beneath.

“You are like a baby, not knowing when to be silent!” the female voice hissed. The African accent made Koji recoil. He was familiar with that tone.

“Gemini Abara… what are you doing here?” he rasped. The woman crossed her arms.

“Protecting you. Mother heard John Wick had been here and knew there would be trouble so she tasked me with locking down your hotel and cleaning it up so you can get back to running it.” she said almost with a pout. Koji was heavily confused. Why would she be here after all these years.

“My daughter… Akira, she is injured.” he said swiftly. He needed to know if she was alive. Gemini gave a curt nod.

“I have birds out looking for her right now.” she informed. He sighed with mild relief, hoping that she was safe. She knew of many safe havens to go to if the hotel was ever under siege. The masked woman struts over to him before reaching into her suit pocket and pulling out his glasses. She put them on his face, uncuffed his hands, then went over and pulled up a chair and sat down, crossing her legs and tapping her black boot up and down.

“My staff?” he asked.

“Those who can be saved will be saved, the dead will be buried all expenses will go the Abara Family. As of right now your hotel is simply... under construction.” she informed. Koji shook his head.

“I should be dead.” Koji said and Gemini nodded.

“I wanted to let you die. You brought my mother nothing but pain yet she told me to do all I could to bring you back. Luckily Caine still decided to spare your life. I guess you both having a daughter gave him a change of heart.” she said venomously. Koji inhaled some and looked down at his body finally having the will power to sit up. His body was bandaged and the bullet wound he had was cleaned and bandaged.

“And what will the High Table think of one of its own going against them?” he asked. The woman was silent as the sound of heals on marble floor came gently down the hall. Koji looked toward the door and Gemini stood up as the door slid open. His eyes slowly filled with emotion as a woman entered. She was aged like Koji, but her milk chocolate skin showed no cracks of age. Her once long curly hair was now shoulder length and black. Her body was still very much in shape as she stood with poise. She was in a red dress and red headdress.

“Amara.” Koji said breathlessly. The woman looked at her daughter and just nodded. Gemini bowed and exited the room leaving the two alone. Amara looked at Koji with warmth in her soft green eyes and slowly approached.

“Hello Koji.” she said gently moving to bring the chair closer to sit down beside him. Koji looked almost mesmerized as the woman smiled at him. “Considering everything, you look well.”

Her voice was like music to his ears, a melody he had missed for over twenty years.

“Amara I- ” he was a loss of words. Slowly Amara shook her head.

“Don’t speak. I have everything taken care of here.” she said assuredly. Koji still shook his head.

“Your brother sits on the High Table. They’ve released the Marquis to capture John Wick. The hotel was deemed deconsecrated.” he said. Amara just placed her hand gently on his chest gently shushing him.

“It’s alright. My brother owed me a favor and a marker.” she replied. Koji raised his hand and slowly placed it over hers, even going so far as to gently hold it.

“You wasted a marker on me, Amara-”

“Some things go further than markers… like brotherhood and a love we once shared for each other.” she said. Koji stared at her stunned before the door slid open again. Gemini came in.

“Intombi ka-Osaka ifunyenwe.” she informed. (Osaka’s daughter is found). Amara nodded.

“Mziseni apha.” she commanded and Gemini nodded and closed the door. Amara looked at Koji with a smile before slowly standing.

“Your daughter has been found and she will be here any moment. I leave you to repair your hotel and restore it to its excellency. Your doctors should be able to take your medical care from here.” she replied. She began to withdrawal, but Koji quickly took hold of her hand before she was too far away.

“Amara… thank you.” he said. The woman smiled and gave a brief nod before moving to the door. “And you are wrong…”

She paused and turned to him curiously as he just shook his head.

“The love we once shared is incorrect. My love for you will always burn bright in my heart.” he said. Amara stared at him for a moment before smiling lovingly at the healing manager. Her hand came up to gently graze his soft skin. Oh how she missed his touch.

“As my love for you.” she said before turning and moving out the door. Her footsteps echoed in his mind as they grew faint, just like when she left all those years ago.

Amara walked down the halls of the hotel with power and strength. As she passed through the hallway, figures in red suites and masks moved to stand behind her silently falling in line two by two to escort her through the halls. As they got down to the lobby which was being cleaned and decontaminated, an injured Akira was being held by the side by one of her guards. As she limped through looking around heavily confused as to what was going on, she was passing the woman in red.

She knew this woman, Lady Amara Abara, sister of the High Table Roman Abara and sister of Poison Master, Satin Abara. The Abara Family was very well known and for a member to be here confused the young concierge. But Amara would not look her way as she walked.

Koji lied back against the bed thinking of the woman who was just here. The woman who could bring him to his knees in seconds. Memories of the past rolled into his mind.

“We were fools to think our families would allow us to be together. Our paths did not involve each other.” Koji said and Amara closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face.

“For being powerful people, we are completely powerless when together and that will result in weakness.” she admitted.

“Goodbye, Amara.” he said.

“Goodbye, Koji…”

The door slid open and Akira was brought in.

“FATHER!” she cried out and Koji looked at her with tears in his eyes as the two embraced. Overwhelming joy filled his body as his daughter was alive and well. He pulled back to look down her body.

“Your wound.” he said. Akira shook her head.

“There are medical staff here… Father I thought you were… How?” she asked. Koji slowly looked toward the door.

“It seems we owe a large gratitude to Lady Amara Abara and her Sunbirds.” he said. Akira looked at her father’s face seeing that look of longing. She has noticed that look many times when discussion of The Abara Family came up around him. She wasn’t a fool, she had known for a very long time her father was not truly in love with her mother, even if he treated her with love and respect. She remembered her mother telling her there are two kinds of love: loving someone and being in love with them. Her father loved her mother, but he was in love with another. She finally looked back at the door remembering the look of strength on Lady Amara’s face as she led her assassins from the building. It was her. She looked down slowly before looking up at her father.

“Maybe you will see her again.” she said. Koji looked down at his daughter giving a gentle smile.

“Maybe… in another life.”

------------

Author’s notes

So if you’ve read my Pink Blossom, I feel this is just another life of where Grace and Ujio found each other. Now I do have a chapter started about the youth of Koji Shimazu and Amara Abara, but I’m still deciding if I want to work on it. But we will see hehe

Taglist

@slippinninque

[jujutsubaby]

Hiiii! I would like have a coffee at the Heaven and Earth cafe! If possible, could I get a mocha latte with soy milk and a kouign amann on the side? Pretty please and thank you 🙏

a/n: thank you for your ask and for participating 🥹 i appreciate it sooo much and i love your order! chocolate + buttery pastries are to die for 😇

✨ WELCOME TO CAFE HEAVEN & EARTH ! ✨

🤍 PAIRING. yuta

🤍 WORD COUNT. 1.4k (sorry anon i got too carried away with this lol)

ugh, you only had 15 minutes to quickly grab your drink and a bite to eat before your 8 AM stats lecture with the notoriously strict professor kusakabe. yeah, sure you could’ve probably avoided this if you had just slept at a normal time, but alas, you were hell bent on finishing one more episode of your favorite trashy real-estate focused reality tv show. but no worries, cafe heaven & earth is known for its efficiency and speed.

that’s what you thought to yourself 8 minutes ago, when you thought you would be out of there by now. instead, right after you gave your order, you noticed the long line of people waiting for their orders. you try your best to overhear their conversations so as to better understand what was happening

“i heard there’s a disturbance in the kitchen.” “who told you that?” “i dunno, some guy with white hair came out and said it?” crap. you don’t have time for this. you frantically look at your watch, as the aforementioned white haired man came out of the kitchen nonchalantly and made an announcement. “sorry folks, there’s gonna be a delay on everyone’s orders due to a disturbance in the kitchen.”

everyone murmurs but no one says anything, but you’ve had enough. “what’s the disturbance? how long will this take? i’m in a bit of a hurry, actually.” the white haired man takes a quick glance at you and says “there’s just a disturbance. thanks.”

dumbfounded, you’re not even sure how to respond to…his lack of response? you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to figure out if it was worth just leaving right now and risking the entire class hearing your stomach rumble, or getting chewed out by professor kusakabe. your thoughts are interrupted by a soft voice from beside you.

“running late?” your head shoots up, and you find that the owner of the voice is a young man around your age wearing crisp black jeans and a high-necked white sweater. you’re slightly annoyed. you don’t really have the time to chit chat with a stranger right now. “uh, yeah, kinda.” you say curtly. you notice that he’s a little taller than you, with gentle features befitting his polite voice. his black hair falls in his large dark blue eyes in neat curtains. most notably, though, you see prominent shadows underneath his eyes. he must also be a student.

“what class?”

“stats”

“shit, stats 153? with kusakabe?” he grimaces none too subtly.

your stomach drops. great, so you are gonna get chewed out for being late. “yeah. how fucked am i if i show up late?” he pretends to think before saying “well, depends. do you like having to explain in excruciating detail to the entire hall exactly what you were doing last night that made you late for an 8am? since that’s what he made us do when i had him last year.” hell no. there’s no way in hell you’re gonna tell anyone you were up until 2am watching selling sunset.

the white-haired man re-emerges at that moment with an order that looks mercifully familiar. “soy mocha and kouign-amann for…” you approach the pickup counter in anticipation. the employee raises a doubtful eyebrow at you before reading a name off the receipt in his hand. “...yuta?” the stranger who was just speaking with you steps in front of you and grabs his order, flashing an awkward apologetic grin at you.

as if this day couldn’t get stranger. “uh, that’s my order…” you say, but you’re not so confident anymore. “sorry, i think it’s mine. been ordering this ever since this place opened.”

“i’ve been ordering that ever since this place opened,” you say defiantly. you’re not sure if this dude is playing some joke on you or what, but you definitely don’t have time for it. 

“that’s interesting, but my name’s yuta,” he continues patiently, “so unless we also have the exact same name, i’m pretty sure this is mine this time.”

a quick glance at your watch – 5 minutes left. okay, plan aborted – people are just gonna have to deal with your noisy tummy today. “okay, well…” you’re not sure how to really say goodbye to him. “forget it. i’m just gonna get outta here. i’m late as it is…” you leave without glancing behind you as you speed walk to your lecture hall and it’s not until a couple seconds later you hear someone shouting behind you.

you turn to see…yuta? from the cafe? what’s he doing following you? oh god, is he a creep?! it suddenly occurs to your sleep-deprived mind that he might want to fight after you accidentally tried to steal his order, and you speed up.

“hey, wait! stop walking faster, geez! i’m trying to help you!” confused, you slow your pace, willing to hear him out. “what do you want?” you ask, wishing it didn’t come out as harshly as it did. 

“well, i was just wondering…y’know, seeing as we apparently have the exact same order and are both about to be late to our respective classes…” yuta clears his throat. “wanna share while we walk?”

you're skeptical, but the kouign-amann was looking so delectable in his hands that you had to double check you weren’t drooling. it didn’t help that your stomach chose that exact time to elicit a god awful noise begging for food. you acquiesce. “yeah, i’d…i’d actually really like that.” you flash him a thankful smile as you both walk to class.

“so…how come you’re running late? you seem like the type who’d have it all together,” you ask, trying to break up the silence with some small talk. you look up again at his eye bags. “up late studying, i bet?”

“hardly,” yuta answers sheepishly. “this show i’m hopelessly hooked on just dropped its new season on netflix…

you burst out laughing at the image of the polite, perfect yuta falling victim to a netflix binge. “no way, me too! what show? no, let me guess. black mirror or something?”

yuta looks at his feet and mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like selling sunset. no way. feeling just a tiny bit of sadistic glee at his embarrassment, you ask him to repeat himself.

“all right, all right! it was selling sunset! i just can’t stay away…i need to know what those ladies get up to!”

maybe it’s the way he’s blushing or your sleep deprivation, but something possesses you to reach out and pat his arm comfortingly. “don’t be ashamed,” you reassure. “only the greatest of intellectual minds can handle christine’s character arc.”

yuta gapes at you, before his eyes crinkle into a soft laugh. oh…he’s kinda cute, isn’t he…

you pass the rest of the walk discussing the off-the-rails drama of the new season as you alternate taking bites of sugary-sweet pastry and sips of mocha, and you find that you’re having a good enough time that you’re not even thinking about the reaming you’re due for in stats lecture.

soon enough, you’re outside your lecture hall, and it’s time to part ways. you sigh, knowing you’re not prepared to go in 10 minutes late. “well, this is me. right before i get my ass handed to me…”

“don’t worry, he always makes the assignments way harder than the actual tests” yuta reassures you with a bright smile. damn, he’s not kinda cute. he is cute.

“yeah, but stats just isn’t my best subject,” you say dejectedly. “i’m only taking it because i need to for my major but at this point, i dunno how i’m gonna pass the class without some divine intervention or a tutor or somethin’.” you hope yuta takes the hint.

“oh, yeah, well, if you want, i can…i can help you. i quite liked the class when i took it last year,” he says bashfully.

“really?” your eyes beam at him. “here, gimme your phone, i’ll text you about a study session, if you’re down?”

“yeah, of course!” yuta is doing an awful job of hiding the blush in his cheeks as you put your contact in his phone. “i’ll definitely need help come midterms.” you hand his phone back to him. “by the way, didn’t you say you have class? shouldn’t you…” you gesture at another lecture hall nearby yours, and he nervously scoffs.

“oh, yeah, i do, but it’s the one near northside.” northside? like the-other-side-of-campus northside? you’re confused as to why he’s even here right now. “wait, what? you’re gonna be so late for class! why did you even come here?”

yuta fidgets with his fingers, doing an awful job of maintaining eye contact with you. “it’s well…i dunno, i just thought maybe being a couple minutes late so i could share my kouign-amann with a cute girl might be worth it.”

[emptyheadwriting]

I leave this letter to you, beloved-Wednesday Addams x reader

Part two of Cherish Me Before I Perish, Please

Word count: 3.9K

I told you all it would only get darker.

Sadness below the drop.

Warnings: depression, suicide planning, suicidal thoughts and actions, angst, self harm, cutting, blood, self blame and self hate, cursing, alcohol.

—

Wednesday Addams sat in an uncomfortable upholstered chair, a starch white envelope in her hand, her name written in black ink being one of the only pops of color in this desolate space. Perfectly bleached white walls melted into the white square tiles all brightly lit by fluorescent lighting. The unnaturally white color that would normally have fond memories of dissections and autopsies surfacing out of the bottomless depths of her dark mind now was becoming nothing more than an annoyance and a constant reminder that the reason she was here was her fault.

The slow steady beeping of the heart monitor was all her fault. The reason that your chest was only slightly rising before collapsing back into itself with a stuttering fall was her fault. She was sure that was what the letter in her hand described, but she still couldn’t bring herself to read it, a pile of letters that were addressed to others ranging from her family to yours and everyone in between sat neatly opened, the girl with bloodshot eyes had read them all. It was torture to read your typed-out apologies, the way you said no one was to blame for your actions and that you hoped they all remembered you fondly without mourning you too deeply. How could you be so selfless even in your planned passing? The raven-haired woman asked herself, especially considering that as your lover she could not manage to change enough or fast enough to stop the deterioration of your mental state.

A nearby clock tower rang loud enough to be heard through the thick glass windows. It rang twelve times to signal the turning of one day into the next and Wednesday let out a barely audible sigh, lazily dropping her gaze onto the envelope and the snap of a pocketknife being unsheathed echoed throughout the room. As the blade slid under the flap, the ever-unwavering woman hesitated slightly as she thought back to the worst night of her life.

—

The beginning of the day was quite normal for the two of you, waking up before the first bird could sing, morning dew still covering the lone window above the bed. Ever since your breakdown, Wednesday had done her best to sprinkle more love into your daily routines. Placing a kiss on your forehead before heading down the stairs, preparing two cups of coffee, one black and extra strong, the other with the perfect amount of milk and sugar to your taste before returning to the bedroom, where she sat to your now sitting up form, and you leaned into her side like you did every morning, her cold arm wrapping itself around your waist from behind.

After your coffees were finished you went downstairs in your nightwear as she started to get dressed for work, a soft melody filling the air from a small speaker, a sign of your presence that she no longer looked at with disdain, how could she? Especially not when she joined you in the kitchen and she got to see a small smile on your lips and the shake of your hips that were devilishly enticing, this morning especially so as she gripped them softly with a squeeze and placed a fleeting kiss on your neck to which you giggled at before continuing to make her lunch.

The minute she left for work your mood shifted from your happy morning to a blissful peace as you went about the rest of your day. You walked into your art room, eyes rolling over the large white sheets of canvas that hung down from the walls and onto the floors, “it’ll be easy to clean up if she doesn’t like it” you spoke to no one in particular, a habit you had picked up since you had started to plan your death. You walked over to your desk, sat in your chair, and went through the stack of envelopes yet again, it must have been your 100th time.

Enid Petropolus

“Enid gets my jewelry,” you said as you removed a necklace off of your neck, you didn’t want to short her of anything you left for her.

Ajax Petropolus

“Ajax gets my hand mirrors, I hope he gets the joke” an airy laugh left your lips as you remember all the pranks and inside jokes you and the gorgon shared.

Xavier Thorpe

“you better make good use of my art supplies, they’ve made masterpieces” you mumbled as your eyes flicked over to a stack of Artists' Magazines with your works on the cover.

Yoko Tanaka

“You get my only pair of fancy sunglasses, I can’t believe you still wear the ones from school” you shrugged your shoulders, “I guess it doesn’t matter you live forever anyways”

Mrs.Addams

“I leave to you my collection of black robes, sure you might have enough but change it up a bit,” you say with a roll of your eyes, you knew well just how little the Addams liked change.

Mr.Addams

“You have to accept a dead person’s money or you are rude,” you thought back on all the times you had tried to give the generous man the money you owed for the house, the cars, and everything else he had gifted, every time receiving the same shake of the head and knowing smirk that meant the money would end up back in your accounts somehow.

Momma

“You get my makeup, it’s fancier than what you buy, but still not as good as you deserve,” you say with pride dripping from your voice, the woman who raised you deserved the world.

Dad

“Cook some nice food for mom” a laugh left your lips as you think of your dad scaring up your fancy pots and pans, he never did learn to not use steel utensils on good cookware.

Your checklist of people went on and on, your little anecdotes disappearing as you got to the ones to who you left nothing but apologies and well wishes, and then finally the most important envelope,

To my beloved, Wednesday Addams.

You placed a chaste kiss to the point where all the folds met before standing up and walking out of your art room, you debated locking it just as you did every day since you had set the canvases up, but you knew that on the off chance that Wednesday wiggled the doorknob it would be more suspicious if she felt the tension of a lock.

The rest of the day went by much like normal, besides the way that every single thought was clouded with positivity and peacefulness, today was going to be your last you were sure and it made things so much sweeter. You cleaned anything that wasn’t spotless and organized your things into the groups you had assigned to everyone and prepared all the necessities for dinner so that it was an easier task later.

Soon enough, the sun was tucking itself lower behind the horizon and you sat in a rocking chair on the back porch admiring the pinks and oranges that would be the last sunset to grace your eyes. The gradient of orange to yellow to the last breaths of blues was beautifully balanced, paired with wispy pink clouds like cotton candy across the sky it was as if the world knew it was waving goodbye to an artist.

So lost in the dazzling display of the world's beauty you were left unaware of the buzz of the gate alarm and rattling of keys in the front door, it wasn’t until you felt a familiar cold hand gently laying itself on your shoulder. Oh, how much you enjoyed the way her cold could make you feel so warm, and you were sure that deaths cold embrace would do the same. “no kiss at the door my love?” Came her soft question, and you shook your head no with a smile as you turned to look at her. Your lover would have to adjust to not receiving greetings in the form of a kiss, but you knew she would be okay after all the action was more for you to get affection than it was for her, evident by the way she went to sit in her matching rocking chair without going for a kiss.

“Enid is in town, she invited me for dinner,” she said as her eyes glazed over your figure, “she suggested just the two of us since Ajax won’t be able to attend, is that alright with you?” It was new, this asking for your permission as if you would ever not grant it. Everything seemed to be working out perfectly in your favor, an empty house would be easier. So you nodded softly, “of course, send my regards” you offered, you hadn’t talked to Enid in some time now, not since the last time you saw her at one of your displays.

Wednesday stood, and as she walked back into the house her fingers grazed up your arm in a fleeting goodbye, she couldn’t possibly realize it would be the last you two shared.

Sunset turned to night by the time Wednesday and Enid were sat together picking at plates of food in front of them, discussing their current events and tales of the past. The restaurant was dimly lit and gentle jazz filled the room with a comfortable backdrop to the lively conversations held at each table where couples held hands, shared wines, and knowing looks. “and Ajax is just constantly in meetings, good thing he works in marijuana or I don’t think anyone would take him seriously” Enid said with a laugh, she was proud of her husband’s accomplishments even if it meant they had to spend plenty of time apart, “unfair of me to say not to bring your wife and then talk about my husband, how is Y/N? The last I heard about her was a bit concerning”

Wednesday cocked an eyebrow at the thought of you sharing bad news with Enid and not her and she hesitated to form a response, “she had a breakdown of sorts long ago…” memories of the night your heart-wrenching sobs rocked the house until daybreak flooded into her mind before she continued, “I have been trying to correct my mistakes, she deserves more than I can give” she says sourly, disappointed in herself for not being able to push through walls that she herself built for the sake of the one person she has ever loved.

“I just ask because I remember seeing something about her in Artists Magazine, do you get those?” Enid questioned as she pulled out her phone, typing in your name and nodding, “yeah here it is, Y/N Addams, goes dark and then goes dark, how one of modern times most beloved and skilled artists disappeared” she read aloud before sliding her phone over to the pale woman across from her.

Wednesday stared at the screen, there on the cover of the magazine was a picture of you, in a magnificent black dress, one she could recall her mother gifting you, her hands gently gripped the phone before she scrolled down.

Y/N Addams one of the world’s most prominent artists has disappeared as of late. The artist who has never shied away from interviews or quick questions from our editors has gone radio silent since we last saw her nearly ten months ago, leaving us with her darkest piece to date and now darkness on all communication.

A scowl grew on her dusty lips as she swiped over to the next page, half of it taken up by a painting, the rest an excerpt from an interview about it and her eyes darted to the words first.

This painting titled “The Impassive Object of My Affection” holds the darkest tale of any canvas that Mrs.Addams had ever put brush to, “I wanted this piece to represent a love unappreciated, a love built around one’s sacrifice, and one’s unspoken demand for it.”

Wednesday’s eyes shifted over to the painting, hoping to find a conceptual piece, not one that represented their own relationship. There was a fire in the background of the painting, and as she looked closer it was the fireplace in your house it would have cast a warm light over the rest of your living room that was perfectly depicted down to the skull and bone decorations had the painting not been perfectly monochromatic. In the center of the piece, Wednesday recognized herself, sharp features on prominent display with her natural straight-faced disposition, in one hand she held a cup of wine, and her other hand was frozen in a motional signal for continuance.

You were kneeling before her in a pool of what must be blood, evident from the way you held out your heart towards your spouse, a bloody dagger on the floor next to you. Your head was hung in shame, locks falling loosely over your bare back.

Enid watched as her best friend dropped her phone, tears forming in her eyes clouding the dark pools. The werewolf froze unsure of what to do, she had seen the painting of course but hadn’t thought much of it, it was usual for couples to have arguments, she assumed that the painting was a result of an argument that would have since been resolved, “you two must’ve made up by now, you two love each other more than anyone I know, I mean you got married fresh out of high school” she offered hopefully.

Wednesday shook her head no, as she grabbed her glass of wine shakily, bringing it up to her lips in hopes to give herself a moment to gather her thoughts, but as it touched her lips her head snapped back into a vision, it hadn’t happened in so long she had forgotten the searing sensation as the images floated through her mind.

She saw you, sitting on a tall wooden stool in your art room in front of canvas as white as the purest of clouds, a glass of wine in one hand, and a sharp knife in the other, a peaceful smile on your face as you dragged it across your wrist, standing and watching blood seep from the wound before you swung your arm towards the canvas, the blood dotting across it gracefully.

“I, I need to go home” her voice wavered as she came to, standing from her seat abruptly, not bothering to give Enid any details as she ran out of the restaurant and into her car, wiping at her tearing eyes with her sleeve, tires screeching out of the parking lot.

Pale fingers desperately unlocked her phone, quickly tapping on your contact, “please Y/N” she sobbed to the air as she swerved in between cars, ignoring the various beeps and shouts hurled her way.

You ignored the distant ringing of your phone, the soft sounds of a rainforest taking up your eardrums, as you slid the blade across your wrist again, a soft sigh leaving your lips at the blissful feeling of energy draining from you, as you danced to the rhythm in your head, your crimson blood staining the cotton.

Wednesday cursed herself for agreeing to meet on the furthest side of town, the drive home felt longer than any journey she had ever been on, mind racing but time seemed to do her no favors. “Mom, PLEASE, call her do something please, I can’t lose her, help me please” she cried, voice cracking as she held, she had given up on calling you after ten attempts.

“Wednesday you have to breathe, you are no use to her if you crash and die yourself, I will contact the authorities with your information,” Morticia said as she did her best to stay calm as her daughter sobbed to her, one of the rarest things to ever happen and just like it did now, it only happened in a dire situation. “I will call you right back, remember to breathe, I will be right back, and everything will be okay” she offered as she hung up to get an ambulance to go to the house.

“You don’t know that, I don’t know that, fuck fuck fuck” Wednesday yelled in frustration as her fist pounded into the horn, turning the last corner before she would arrive at the gate of your shared property. Pressing her foot further down onto the pedal, knowing she would not hesitate to slam through the gate, anything to get to you faster.

Her car barreled through the heavy iron gate, and she ignored the pain of shrapnel slicing along her skin, hoping, no praying to any deity that anyone had ever believed in that the gate’s alarm would snap you out of your head, and you would be at the door awaiting her arrival.

You heard the gate’s alarm ringing throughout the house, but you were much too tired to do anything other than smile weakly at it, you could no longer dance, you could feel death’s boney fingers gripping onto your shoulders, and just as you had predicted, the touch was so cold that you reveled in the strange sense of warmth it spread throughout your body. Your vision was blurred beyond hope as you collapsed onto the group, your blood mixing with the wine from your shattered glass as everything went black.

Wednesday had shot into the house, leaving her car running as she barged the door open thankful that you hadn’t bothered to lock it, a safety habit she had scolded you for before. Thankful for once that you did not listen to her. Her boots squeaked across the floor as she made her way into your art room, a harrowing scream leaving her lips as she collapsed onto her knees and crawled through your blood to your body.

—

It took a single tear to drop onto the envelope she had been blankly staring at as she was lost in thought to snap her back into reality and become aware of the way tears were freely flowing from her eyes.

The raven-haired woman finally dragged the blade through the rest of the seal, softly dragging the letter out, an audible sob leaving her lips as the neatly folded paper was signed with a lipstick stain kiss in the shade she loved the most on your lips, she slowly unfolded it,

Hello, my beloved Wednesday, I love you with all my heart and soul and I hope you can understand my decision, I have grown so tired. Of so many things, for so many reasons. Those I won’t address here, I know you have read all the other letters I left for the significant people in our lives, in those I’ve covered all the reasons that would have built up to my desire to fade from this world, and what I wish to happen to my belongings, if you have any objections you can change it to your will, you will always have final say in any matter of my life except for this one.

I know you never paid much attention to my artwork, so I need you to know many of my pieces were based around you, my love. Nothing in this world had ever captivated my emotions like you have, and I hope I have done your beauty justice in each brush stroke. If you have stumbled upon my last creation, you must know that I have gladly kneeled at your feet for our time together and given in to your desires, just as you deserve from a lover.

I leave you with an art piece I know you will appreciate, you always did love blood, enough to make a career of it. I hope my blood splatters distinctly enough for you to keep the canvas hung up proudly. (I smiled so widely at the thought of creating something you would love).

Wednesday could picture the smile on your face, and it ruined her to realize it had been far too long since she had seen your genuine full-toothed smile that would fill her cold heart with the slightest hint of happiness. It pained her to wonder if she would ever see it again.

I know you believe that death is final and that there is nothing more than this life, but you must know that my love for you will endure. It will be evident in the way the colors paint the sky each morning and afternoon. Noticeable in the plants that grow around the property. Unmistakable in all my works that were centered around you. (I have run out of synonyms, but I hope my point has gotten across)

I do have one last request for you to fulfill for me my darling.

Bury me with my ring, somewhere where no one will ever be able to take it from my finger.

For I was promised forever,

And I intend on seeing it through,

Your wife, Y/N.

(Alternative Sadder Ending)

Wednesday’s hands shook rapidly, the letter ruffling from her force. She placed the paper beside the opened envelopes and stood from her chair, willing her muscles to move her forward despite their pleas to remain seated, far away from your lifeless body.

She gently stroked the curve of your face when she reached your bedside. “Please my love, come back to me” she whispered, as her hand slid down to intertwine with yours.

“I promise you I will be better, no more trying, I will be better, in every aspect I have ever failed you in, I will go to every single one of your shows, listen to all your stories, dance along with you in moves that I don’t know to songs I have never heard, we can sell the cabin, move somewhere else, restart everything, paint the walls lively colors, decorate to both of our tastes, tell you how much I appreciate you at every moment, I can not believe I have failed you in every way possible, how could you still want forever with me?” She bargained, squeezing your hand at each promise, watching as her tears fell onto your skin, wondering if the result of her anguish would hold enough life force to bring you back to her.

The heart monitor steadily beeped as normally as it had been for the entire time she had been seated in this hospital room that screamed of death as if mocking her for holding out hope.

She had to tear her eyes away from your body, squatting down next to your hospital bed leaving her hand in yours.

A gentle squeeze of her hand had her shooting back up, clutching at your arm desperately, “darling I’m here, I’m right here, please Y/N wake up” she begged as she scrambled to press the emergency button.

She would do anything in her power to have you back, and she took a step back as nurses and doctors rushed into the room, and she caught glances between their bodies, lips upturning as she saw the slightest of movements under your eyelids and the whispers full of hope about your awakening from the staff.

You would be coming back to her, back to where you belonged and she swore to herself to pour herself into you as she should’ve since your relationship began.

“I will be better, no exceptions”

--

Tag List for all Fics:

@wandaszn

If you would like to be added to the list for all of my works just let me know, I did not want to tag everyone I tag for The Last Heir AU just incase.

Please know that if you are feeling these kinds of thoughts that there are so many resources for you to use to reach out to that will lend an ear. Remember that you are loved in so many more ways by so many more people than you could ever possibly imagine, your life is worth so much.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Dialogue Tag!

Thanks for the tag, @illarian-rambling!!!!

I'll go with a snippet that contains one my fave dialogues from What Lurks In The Hollow I've ever written, for this one!

And so, when that first week came to an end, after Zach appearing at their lakehouse every day, this one time, Dylan actually managed to be a bit more civil to the boy, though his annoyance was still palpable. He'd greeted him with a mumbled 'hi, I guess' after Zach had come barelling into the house from the front door, neither of them really acknowledging each other past that.

Zach had plopped himself on that same chair across from Amy, immediatelly already talking about some topic that Dylan had no clue about, so it sounded like gibberish. The teen had even poured himself some milk and cereal after Amy had insisted.

"We're going to the bigger lake today," Amy told Dylan, excited, practically inhaling her own breakfast as if to make the time pass faster, "You know the one, where there's that abandoned lumberyard."

Dylan leaned on the kitchen counter, scrolling through tabs of his phone with rapt attention. The only sign he even heard her is the grumbled 'mhm' he lets out in agreement and a bored flicker of his eyebrows.

For some reason, Zach thought that it was a good opportunity to chime in, though Amy kept gesturing for him to cut it out before he even started. He chucled, tilted his neck back so he was looking at Dylan - but upside down - and said, "You know, you're far too young to be this angry. I'm starting to believe you're afraid of fun, big guy." He smirked, messy locks of dark hair cascading around his foundation white skin, as he waited for a response.

Dylan scoffed, not looking up from his phone, "It's that I have something called bills to pay, for which I need to find another thing called a job. Not that you would know. But responsibility matters more than a stupid lake."

On the other side of the table, Amy was still munching on her cereal, though now much slower now that her brother's tone had caught her attention and made her invested in the conversation. She looked like a middle aged woman watching a telenovela.

"Or maybe you'll work yourself into an early grave in just a few decades and let your managers go on a bunch of cruises with the money your work earned them," Zach was still leaning back on the chair, back bent, head upside down, lazily challenging the older young man's grumpiness, while gesturing around erratically, "You know that the hustle culture is just a big scheme to get us to follow ye old rat maze while the big dudes in the suits get all the fun."

Her twirled a curl of his own hair around his fingertip, annoyed, "There's also another, even quicker way to die known as starvation. I'd rather take the slower route and get some extra decades rather than just weeks," Dylan said, tone still dry, pushing himself off the counter with a single shove, pocketing his phone and reaching for his half empty coffee cup, drinking it in one go before turning to the door, "I'm going out. Again. See if anyone in this shithole is actually hiring."

He sighed, picked up his leather jacket from one of the chairs, slipping it over his shoulders with ease. Amy was almost done with her breakfast as he passed her by, ruffling her hair while pointedly avoiding even looking in the other boy's direction, "You know the drill, if anything goes wrong -"

Amy finished off his sentence before he could blink, "…I call you immediatelly. Yep. I know." She nodded, and earned a small, quick smile and a nod before he marched out of the room, into the foyer and then out of the house.

Only then she turned to Zach, her eyes wide with a mix of annoyance, pride and sheer amusement, "Why do you keep doing that?"

Zach crossed his arms over his chest, smile mischievous, "Doing what?" He asked, his tone so innocent it would have fooled anyone who hadn't witnessed the interaction that had just taken place.

She rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked up with amusement as she pointed at Zach with her now-empty spoon, "Oh, don't play dumb. You know exactly what I mean, young man." Amy said, her tone just as mischievous, before she grew a tiny bit more serious, "Annoying him. He'll never like you if you keep making him upset."

Zach shrugged it off with a dismissive wave, "Eh, that dude is too uptight for his own good. I'm doing him a favor. If he learns how to lighten up, me and him might actually be friends one day," He laughed, genuine as he stood up from the table and extended his gloved hand to help Amy do the same, "Until then, I'll keep doing my duty as the local crazy guy and as your friend, of being his little push towards the path of being not-so-angry-all-the-damn-time."

Amy shook her head. Now she was laughing too, "I think you're just being a petty little goblin who wants to see the world burn. And hey, in all honesty? I respect it." She takes his hand and stands up, leaving her bowl and spoon on the sink.

Zach smirked, already making his way to the door, "That is also true." He turned on his heels, gesturing with his head, clearly still joking, "Let's go, or the lake might get bored and leave, who knows?"

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[kingyo-konbini]

KINGYO COFFEEHOUSE [SUGAWARA KOUSHI X READER]

[SUMMARY] sugawara has a secret crush on a girl in shimizu's class. shimizu secretly plots a meet-cute for her friend. [PRONOUNS] she/her [GENRE] fluff | meet-cute [POV] third person [WORD COUNT] 1879 [CONTENT] crushes | coffee shops | reader's unnamed older brother | one curse word (shit)

“Have you ever heard of this place?”

“Kingyo Coffeehouse? Nope, I don’t think so. You?”

“Not until Kiyoko recommended it to us. It looks nice, though.”

The outside was very humble, a dark maroon-and-white striped awning covering the doorway and large hanging plants hung from the inside by the windows, their vines spiraling down the edges like curtains. There were two small tables to the right of the front door, each having two chairs to sit on. Maroon umbrellas were situated in the centers of each table, open and providing shade. The shop’s name was printed on a smooth dark brown sign in the window, two painted goldfish bordering the words.

“You know, I didn’t take her as a coffee person, but I guess I can kind of see it.” Sugawara said with a shrug, walking up to the door that Azumane was holding open.

“I guess. She probably just orders tea, though.” Sawamura followed Sugawara, Azumane ending the train and letting the door swing closed behind him.

“I wonder how she heard about this place.” Sugawara mused, examining the neat interior and taking in the warm scent of coffee.

“It is kind of hidden.” Sawamura agreed, eventually shrugging and walking up to the counter, Azumane and Sugawara following. “My treat. What do you guys want?”

“Be with ya in a sec.” A grouchy looking young man spoke, his back to the three as he worked on finishing up what looked like several orders. A small group of businessmen were waiting off to the side, chatting amongst themselves, all dressed up in their work clothes even on a Sunday.

“Something light, probably an iced caramel macchiato.” Sugawara hummed, looking at the menu.

“I’m getting tea.” Azumane decided. “Iced black tea sounds good.”

“Shit.” They heard the employee hiss, their attention turning to him and the cup of milk spilled over the counter and onto his apron. Grumbling to himself, he marched over to a door in the back and swung it open, leaning inside the opening. “[Name]! Come help!”

The three instantaneously furrowed their brows in confusion and looked at each other, Sugawara’s ears heating up. It couldn’t be-

“What did you do?” [Last Name] [First Name] said in exasperation, looking at the man’s apron and the look on his face. “Jeez. Come on, dude.”

“Shut up and help me out. You take their orders while I finish these ones. Where’s dad?”

“In the back doing numbers.” [Name] answered, still not looking at the boys at the counter. She pulled her hair back, away from her face, and washed her hands, slipping an apron on afterwards and finally facing the customers. “Oh.” She said, eyes blown wide. “Uh, hey guys.”

[Last Name] [First Name] was a fellow third year at Karasuno and Sugawara’s recent crush. He hadn’t been fully aware of her existence until a couple months ago, having stumbled across her reading in the courtyard. The moment he saw her hair shift in the wind and the way her fingers carefully flipped the pages, he was done for.

After that he kept seeing her everywhere: during lunch, between classes, after school, in the mornings; he couldn’t escape, and honestly, he didn’t want to.

Sawamura and Azumane had easily figured out what was going on with their friend, repeatedly trying to get him to talk to her and failing each time. Shimizu must have figured it out and knew that her classmate worked here, and that this would be the only way to get Sugawara to talk to her.

“Hey, [Last Name], right?” Sawamura cleared his throat and took the initiative.

“That’s me.” She confirmed with a nod. “You guys are on the volleyball team, right?”

“Yep.” Sawamura nodded. “Funny running into you here, we didn’t know you worked here.”

“I just help out sometimes.” [Name] shrugged, fiddling with her fingers. “My dad owns this place. That’s my brother.” She motioned towards the grumpy young man, who was finishing up the businessmen’s orders. “Anyways, what can I get you guys?”

“Just a small water for me. Suga?” Sawamura turned to his friend, who promptly pretended to not notice the glint in his eyes.

“Small iced caramel macchiato, please.”

[Name] nodded and scribbled the orders onto the cups. She turned to Azumane. “You?”

“Small iced black tea, please.” He spoke politely. [Name] nodded again and scribbled the order onto a new cup.

“All of this on one ticket?”

“Yes.” Sawamura nodded and pulled out his wallet, gathering up the bills. [Name] put the orders into the computer and told him the total, which was less than they were expecting.

“I’m giving you a discount. I don’t ever see any classmates here.” [Name] chuckled sheepishly and scratched the back of her head. “Sawamura, Sugawara, and Azumane?” She pointed to each as she guessed their names, eyes lighting up once they confirmed. “Oh, I'm glad I didn’t mess that up.” She laughed and slid back the change. “I’ll get your orders out in just a moment.”

“Thank you.” They each said, meandering off to where the businessmen had stood, having left after receiving their drinks. As they waited, Sugawara made a point to not acknowledge the looks he was getting from his friends, choosing instead to scroll mindlessly through his phone.

“You want me to make this one?” They heard [Name]’s brother ask.

“No it’s fine, I got this under control. Go get a new apron or something.”

Her brother grumbled and they watched as he opened the door [Name] had come down from and went inside, the door shutting behind him. In just a few minutes [Name] walked over to they boys and placed the drinks on the bar, smiling.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you.” They said again, each grabbing their respective drink. Sugawara took a sip and was pleasantly surprised at how good it tasted, the espresso not too bitter and the caramel drizzle not sickly sweet. It felt good to drink something cold, helping to cool down the innate embarrassment he’d been filled with since realizing Shimizu had set him up.

“So, what are you three up to today?” [Name] asked, glancing to make sure nobody was waiting on her.

“We were on our way to get some new shoes for Asahi. His are worn out.”

“Oh,” [Name] nodded. “I guess they’d get worn down pretty heavily from all that running and jumping. It’s nice that you guys hang out outside of practices and games and stuff.”

“Yeah, we’re friends.” Sawamura shrugged. “Besides, Kiyoko told us about this place and that it was on the way to the store, so we figured we’d check it out.”

“Shimizu-san?” [Name] mumbled, eyes widening a little as though she’d realized something. “I see. Well, I’m glad you guys did. Like I said, we don’t really get students from Karasuno coming in, and I don’t really hang out with anyone outside of my club members, so it’s nice to have some contact with you all.” She laughed sheepishly and messed with her hair, brushing it away from her eyes.

“I feel that.” Sawamura nodded. “We don’t really hang out with anyone outside of the team, either.” He joined in her laughing, Azumane chuckling and Sugawara smiling while trying to hide the fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Well, you guys are welcome here anytime you want, the rest of the team included.” She stifled her laughs and sent them a blinding smile, eyes landing on Sugawara. “I hope you all have a good day, and good luck with the shoes, Azumane-san.”

“Thank you, [Last Name]-san. You too.” Azumane smiled and bowed a little, his ears a little pink.

“Thanks for the drinks.” Sawamura smiled and bowed a little as well before he and Azumane headed towards the door.

“Yes, thank you, [Last Name]-san. The drink is really good.” Sugawara said, trying to keep his voice steady. [Name]’s smile somehow brightened even more, and she perked up.

“I’m glad. Have a good day, Sugawara-san.”

“You too.” He bowed his head slightly before rushing after his friends, who were waiting for him by the door. Once the three had exited and the door was shut, Sawamura elbowed Sugawara in the ribs, who let out a short ‘oof’ and jumped away, ignoring the teasing grin on his face.

“We’ll have to thank Kiyoko for the recommendation, tomorrow.” Sawamura whistled, Azumane nodding beside him.

“Come on, I really don’t know why you guys are making this a big deal.” Sugawara sighed, taking another sip of his drink. “It’s just a little crush. I don’t actually know her.”

“Then ask her out!” Sawamura insisted, speeding up to walk in step with his friend.

“She doesn’t know me! Why would she say yes?”

Azumane and Sawamura glanced at each other before the latter rolled his eyes. “Did you really not see the way she was looking at you? The fact that she made your drink first? I think the feeling’s mutual.”

“Shut up.” Sugawara shook his head. “It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Fine.” Sawamura held his hands up in defeat. “Don’t say I didn’t try to do anything, though.” 

...

“Who were they?” [Name]'s brother asked, tying his apron back on. [Name] watched them through the window, a flustered smile on her face.

“Classmates. They’re on the boys’ volleyball team.”

“Do you know them?”

She shrugged. “Not really, but one of the girls who sits near me in class is the team’s manager. I’ve seen them practicing a couple times.”

“Mmhm.” He glanced at her through the corner of his eyes, staying silent as he fetched the mop and began to clean up the spilled milk. “You’re a horrible liar.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Then you’re hiding something.”

“Shut up. You spilled milk everywhere.” She huffed and folded her arms, grateful that the cafe was now empty.

“Tell me.”

“Do you really want to know?”

His eyes flashed and narrowed. “Yes.”

The corners of her lips twitched into a devilish grin. “Well, one of them -Sugawara-san, the one with the light hair- is super cute and is a really good player, and he just so nice, and I think I have a crush on him, and Shimizu-san -that’s the girl I sit next to- found out somehow and told me that Sugawara-san is in the university prep class- how cool is that? And he’s the vice captain of the team, so responsible and handsome-“

“Shut up, shut up, I get it.” Her brother held up his hands in surrender. “I’ve learned my lesson.” [Name] chuckled and undid her apron, grabbing the used mop and moving to put both away. “Is any of that true?”

“Oh, yeah.” [Name] snorted. “He's nice and a good player, and Shimizu-san did tell me that he’s in the university prep class and that he’s the vice captain of the team when I was asking about her club."

“You don’t have a crush on him?”

“I don’t know him.” [Name] shrugged. “He is cute though.”

Her brother grunted and resumed his work while [Name] turned away, a small smile and light blush lighting up her features.

Finally, they'd gotten a proper introduction. She'd have to thank Shimizu-san when she saw her at school.

[wytchsbrew]

Vash needed to get fucked.

None of that romantic, sweet, loving bullshit Wolfwood kept talking about, oh, no, Vash wanted to be fucked so hard, he had to walk with a limp for the next three days. He wanted his thighs to hurt, his back to hurt, he wanted to feel lingering traces of Wolfwood every single time he sat down.

Over six weeks had past since he'd been able to jump his husband's bones like that, and the day had finally come when his medical restrictions were lifted - and he'd planned the entire evening meticulously.

Wolfwood usually came home late in the night on this particular day of the week, spending most of his time working with Melanie at the orphanage, so Vash had the house to himself to prepare.

He asked Milly and Meryl if they wanted to have Livi over for the night, and they happily agreed, so Vash spent a while preparing for that, packing her a bag, making sure she had enough milk for a night away from him, showering her in kisses because he knew he'd miss her to death once she was out of his sight.

But, he needed this. He desperately needed his husband's cock ASAP, before he went insane.

Once the girls came to pick Livi up, he kissed all three girls, sent them on there way, and quickly dressed in the lingerie he'd bought for this exact occasion.

Wolfwood had made it very obvious how obsessed he was with Vash's brand new Post Baby Body, so of course, he had to do something about it. So he bought the lingerie he thought Wolfwood would enjoy the most. It ended up being a black, strappy, lacy pair of panties with a matching bra, and a bright red body harness that strapped around his waist, before strapping around his thighs, and his neck, and framing his body with a multitude of straps.

It almost reminded him of his old, belted outfit, the one that pissed Wolfwood off every time he tried to rid it from Vash's body. He'd love it, he could feel it in his bones. He waited until the moment he knew Wolfwood usually arrived home, and stood in the entryway, waiting for him.

He heard the key.

He heard the heavy footsteps.

He heard Wolfwood's voice as the door opened up in front of him, "My babies, I'm hoooome-"

There was a beat of silence as his husband stepped into view, the front door left wide open behind him. Vash saw the rolled up sleeves of his white button down shirt bulging against his massive arms, the unbuttoned top revealing his muscular, hairy chest, his windswept, dark hair, and very nearly moaned just at the mere sight of him.

"Oh," Wolfwood grinned something bordering on feral. "Forgive me, oh, dutiful Gods, for I am about to commit heinous acts against the Bible."

And, of course, Wolfwood leaped head first, as he always did with any action he took. Like a wildfire, he devoured him. Hands grabbed at his face, rough fingertips stroking along his jawline, and hot lips consumed his mouth, sucking and licking and exploring. Wolfwood's kisses were always soul sucking, until he could only melt in his strong hands holding him together whilst he felt like coming apart at the seams, but this felt even more than ever before.

He heard himself whimpering pathetically, as Wolfwood's experienced tongue lavished his own, twirling around the tip before diving further in. He tasted him, in every sense of the word. Devoured him, until Vash felt desperation in the movements.

And it reminded him of all the times they'd kissed before.

Before domesticity. Before their home. Before marriage. Before Livi.

It was just like their time on the battlefield together. They'd ended up like this so often, tangled desperately in each other's embrace, it became the usual, expected even! Something about the thank God, we're alive. We made it to see another day! feeling, resulted in the same response each and every time. Sexual rushes. Frantic hands. Kisses that tasted like blood.

How long had it been since it felt like this?

Wolfwood broke the kiss, chest heaving, lips glistening, front door still wide open at his back, and his hands fell to Vash's hips. "You look so beautiful," he breathed, his lips motioning softly against his mouth. Their noses touches, Wolfwood's eyes half lidded with a comforting, content aura, but...

Vash slowly shook his head. "Aht, aht, Nicholas. That's not what I want."

Wolfwood looked surprised, pulling back to peer down at him further. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Yes." Vash leaned into his touch, pressing his fuller chest and lacy bra against Wolfwood's pecs. "I don't want you to love me tonight. I don't want you to be romantic, and respect me."

The look of confusion and terror crossing Wolfwood's face almost made him laugh, but he continued, in too deep to back pedal now.

"I want you to fuck me," Vash whispered.

"I mean, yeah, we're gonna get to that-"

"No, no." Vash lifted his finger and pressed it to Wolfwood's lips, silencing him. "I don't think you understand what I'm saying. I want to feel you when I sit down tomorrow."

Wolfwood swallowed hard, throat bobbing with the effort, and Vash watched him intently.

"I want my legs to tremble when I stand up after you're finished with me," Vash whispered, and that was it.

That was the final straw. He actively watched the restraints snap audibly deep within Wolfwood, and the flood gates opened. Every bit of that six week aching and yearning they'd experienced in the walls of their own home came collapsing out of him in such a rush, Vash gasped as his husband advanced on him.

Strong hands still on his hips shoved him backwards against their entryway wall, and grabbed one of his milky thighs, lifting his leg and draping his inner knee into the crook of Wolfwood's elbow. Deft fingers reached down and shoved aside the thin black lace of his panties. With a furrowed brow of apparent concentration, he shoved two fingers deep into Vash's pussy.

A high pitched preen escaped his throat as he tossed his head back, letting it thump hard against the door. He was already wet, of course, but it felt so great to have something buried into him at long last, it took his breath away and stripped him bare, and dear God, the immediate roughness of it, the no hesitation, had Vash chomping at the bit.

He wanted it harder than ever before.

Wolfwood gave it to him, pounding his fingers into him, twisting, curling, in such a hurry, all Vash could do was grip toned biceps and try not to scream out of pure ecstasy, because their front door still sat ajar just feet from where they stood.

They'd been mutually masturbating around every day for the last week, but this felt better, so much better, because he knew...

Vash knew...

He was finally going to get fucked.

The thought made him moan desperately over the sound of Wolfwood's wet fingers messily pounding into him, his skilled efforts doing their job - the initial tightness was beginning to subside already, far too fast, leaving him feeling empty and desperate and hungry for more. Shifting his weight, using his hands as leverage on Wolfwood's arms, he shoved himself further down, making Wolfwood's fingers into that much deeper.

Still not enough. So close to touched what he wanted.

Wolfwood growled, low and deep, and shoved a third finger inside. This sparked up another round of good, so good feelings, and that struck his core so hard, he felt the beginning warmth of his orgasm building already.

"Ah, enough, Nick," he gasped.

Concern etching across his husband's brow, he whispered, "You sure?"

He'd never been more sure in his entire life.

Instead of answering with words, he captured Wolfwood's lips hotly, fingertips pressing deep into his husband's muscles. Wolfwood hummed in his mouth, carefully removing his fingers, and kissing him back with everything he had. He plunged his tongue into his mouth, pressing him completely against the wall so he couldn't move, completely at his mercy.

He wasn't sure how long they kissed, just exploring, softly, then harder, fingers touching every inch of exposed skin. Tasting and tongues and soft moans of encouragement, but by the time Wolfwood finally pulled away, Vash was panting, he felt his pussy dripping wetly with need, drooling between his thighs and slicking down his skin.

"My beautiful Vash," Wolfwood whispered, bringing him back down to reality. He deadlifted Vash off the ground with just his hands on his ass - he shoved him against the wall against, harsh, and Vash wrapped his arms around his neck, scrambling for purchase.

He had but a moment of preparation.

A moment of consideration, as Wolfwood made quick work of unsnapping his pants and pulling out his cock.

A second to catch his breath, as he listened to the sounds of his husband hissing at the feeling of his hand on his erection.

Before Wolfwood allowed his restraints to snap again, just the way he liked, and shoved his cock wetly into Vash's pliant and waiting body in one smooth, practiced movement, until he was buried clean to the hilt. Vash's vision whited out, static filled his ears, and it took him several hard, pounding beats before he realized the sound of the long, effervescent cries were not coming from outside their open door, but actually coming from his own mouth, and he couldn't bite them down, couldn't silence himself, because finally...

Finally...

He had Wolfwood's dick back inside him, and it was huge. Impossibly thick. He relished the steady burn, the aching, familiar pain, as he stretched and adjusted, his body hungrily twitching around the cock. Back pressed flat against the wall, his entire body flushed with heat, his throat ached from the severity at which he wanted to scream from being so full and complete, at long last.

It still didn't really hit him the severity of his own actions, until he felt Wolfwood's hand leave his thigh, and fingers grab at the lace of his panties. With one strong pull, they snapped clean off Vash's hips, nothing more than thin fabric left in his husband's hands.

"Open up."

Wolfwood held up the wet, torn panties. Vash's lips parted enough to Wolfwood to shove them into his mouth and against his tongue.

"'kay, close."

He followed instructions easily.

"Good boy," Wolfwood whispered, brushing the shell of his ear. "Now, keep quiet. Our neighbors don't need to know how good I'm about to fuck you."

Vash whimpered.

That tantalizing mouth quirked off to one side, familiar, crooked. A bolt of lightning exploding his entire world. It reminded him of the first day they met, somehow.

He'd been screwed from the first second he saw him smirk.

Wolfwood pulled out and thrust back in with all his strength, setting a hard, punishing pace as his arm muscles strained with the effort of holding Vash up.

He hadn't been fucked in six weeks, so his girth and length were stretching him to his limit, to the edge of painful, he wanted to cry, while he simultaneously wanted more, and more, harder and harder. Though the stretch of six weeks was not that long at all, it felt like so long since he'd been fucked, stretched, and had every good spot rammed into with the strength of a man who'd undergone experiments to be a beast of a killer.

Regular men would just never do the job for him.

All Vash could do was grip desperately to sweat damp biceps as Wolfwood fucked into him, relentless and vicious, unrestrained, with that salacious inhuman strength. Wolfwood shoved his face into his neck, mouthing at his pounding jugular, and effectively pressing their bodies even closer together.

Pleasure mixed with the sluggish pain, and Vash scraped his nails across Wolfwood's clothed back, desperate. He opened his mouth and spat his panties out. "Harder," he begged.

"Fuck, y' sure."

He nodded rapidly, and Wolfwood moved back a little, lifting Vash higher with just his strong arms, and shoved back in. This new angle allowed his cock to bury deep inside him, striking spots that made Vash's vision go white again, and also allowed him to pull all the way out before shoving back in with a roll of his hips.

The long pull and slide of that cock, the wet cacophony, made Vash desperately reach for his own dick with sweaty hands. Finally, closing his fingers around his hot, aching clit, he preened loudly, crying Wolfwood's name in desperation.

This made Wolfwood thrust even harder and faster, his movements turning sloppy in their frantic nature.

The wall shook and hanging pictures rattled in their frames behind him with Wolfwood's new vigor. Fear and panic clawed its way up the back of throat, envisioning the wall of their neighbor's house shaking and things falling from it, until they came to check on them, and the entire, sweet little family next door walking in to see him being railed until he cried. He gasped and sobbed, "Nick - Nick, the neighbors - the wall-"

He understood, thankfully, and lifted him away from the wall, still buried deep inside him. They stumbled across the entryway and into the living room, until he was dumped him on the back edge of their couch. Without a second of downtime, Wolfwood shoved both his legs back as far as they would go, until they nearly touched the his chest, leaving him completely open and exposed.

Wolfwood licked his lips, gaze flitting down to where they met hungrily, and rolled his hips with practiced smoothness, burying himself until skin met skin. His deep, resulting moan sounded so insanely hot, it flew all over Vash in a blanket of lust, and he found his gaze taking in the beautiful man towering over him. Sweat clung to the fabric of his button up, plastering it to his muscular chest; his muscles strained in his arms, shaking and trembling.

The dim light from the only lamp in the room cast him in golden light, the fine lines of his face, the sharp strength of his jaw, and steady determination in his brow. The adoration in his gaze as he watched them fuck, up close and personal, unlike anything he had seen before, from anyone else. Before they ended up like this married, back when they both drowned in a sea of blood, he'd seen that same look every once in a while across Wolfwood's face during their times together, but he'd never known a name for it.

Now he did.

Love.

Heat spread across Vash's chest and ears, and he flung his hand at his clit again, quickly working it in fast circles. "Nick," he choked out.

"Hmmm?" came the distracted response, snapping his hips harshly forward again. It knocked the breath out of Vash's lungs, but he managed to gasp out, "I love you."

The thrusts paused and Vash could have sworn he heard Wolfwood suck in a sharp, surprised breath, despite how many times they'd said it since their first confessions. His gaze snapped away from his dick and met Vash's own, fiery and heated and completely different than they were just moments before - and his own hand moved faster along his clit, so swept away in the attractiveness of that feral look.

"Yeah," Wolfwood blew out a long breath. "Yeah, fuck, I love you, too."

Leaning forward, nearly bending Vash in half, he fucked into him at such a renewed pace, his orgasm splashed over him in a heady rush before he realized what was happening - Vash's pussy twitched and exploded in a pulsating, sharp orgasm that shook through him. His back arched and he cried out, but Wolfwood slapped a hand over his mouth before he got too loud, holding him down, fucking him through it so hard, the couch scraped and scrubbed and screeched across their wood floor.

Oversensitive, all Vash could do was huff and puff and drool against Wolfwood's hot palm, as he was held down and treated like a piece of meat, letting the love of his life chase his completion inside him rougher than they'd ever gone before.

Just when Vash's fingertips started going numb and he felt lightheaded, Wolfwood swore loudly and buried himself completely inside as he spilled his seed. The orgasm felt strong and it wracked through the body above him with shudders and shivers, filling him, claiming him, owning him. Breathless, Wolfwood released his hold on Vash and collapsed to his knees on the floor, cock slipping wetly from him. He pressed his forehead, hot and drenched in sweat, against Vash's thigh.

Vash, though, could only stare at the ceiling overhead, chest heaving, white noise roaring in his ears.

Holy shit. Holy fuck. They'd definitely never had sex like that in a very long time. That desperate and rough and frantic, it was glorious, everything he'd been dreaming about. Hot damn.

Wolfwood, though, always recovered first from their stints now, his stamina knowing no bounds. He slowly rose to his knees and yanked his own shirt off, the movement of which made Vash, precariously dangling on the edge of their catch, move to watch him better. He tossed his shirt over his shoulder.

Once finished, with gentle and soft hands, he lifted Vash from the edge of the couch and pulled him down to the floor with him, gathering him into his lap so Vash straddled him, shaking thighs pressing on either side of his now soaking wet crotch.

Wolfwood's hands began wandering, one rubbing soft circles along his lower back, the other coming up to grab at the lacy cups of his bra and shove them down, exposing his breasts to the cool room. That hand curled around one of the milk engorged mounds, flicking his thumb along the nipple.

It was easy to lose himself in the gentle, caring hands of his husband like this, letting him touch and rub whatever he wanted as he basked in the afterglow of his first orgasm of the night - because he knew there would be multiple to come.

Wolfwood leaned forward, closing his lips around Vash's nipple, and suckling needily. Vash hummed, happily, and flung his arms around Wolfwood's neck, leaning into his attention to his breast.

A gentle warmth filled him, and he almost didn't hear Wolfwood speak, until he felt his lips pull away from his chest for a moment.

"Can I tell you something, Vash?"

Vash tilted his head, regarding the man now looking up at him so gently, almost with an air of shyness in the curve of his mouth. "Of course."

"I... I think I fell in love with you all over again tonight," he said, so earnestly, it ached in Vash's heart.

Vash smiled, pressing his lips together. He felt giddy, like the first time they kissed, like the first time they held hands. "Well, I think I fell in love with you again tonight, too."

Wolfwood grinned. "Looks like I'm the luckiest man in the world."

Vash inched forward, closer to him until his face nearly buried between his breasts. "Why's that?"

"Because I got the Vash the Stampede to fall for me twice. Not once, but twice."

Vash smiled, knowing all to himself how many times he'd actually fallen in love with Nicholas D. Wolfwood. Somewhere in the hundreds, he imagined. Every time he saved someone. Every time he laughed with him. Every time he kissed him. The first time he laid eyes on him, and then seeing him as a husband, married, and as a father.

And he imagined he'd be falling in love with him every single day for the rest of his life.

[angelofthenight]

Closer To God Pt.2

Warnings: Yandere, Non-Con Cunnilingus, Innocent!Reader, Dark themes, Language, Religious themes/mentions, Sexual sadism, Obsession, Unwanted touching, Kidnapping

Word Count: 4.1k

Part 1

~

You felt the weight of your eyelids grow lighter before you slowly peeled them open, blinking to adjust to the dark environment. Once remembering your circumstances and realizing it wasn’t just some horrid nightmare, you snapped your eyes wide open before whipping yourself up to a seated position.

Your arm was harshly tugged back and you thrashed your head to the side to see one of your wrists handcuffed to the metal headboard of the thinly covered cot you were laid on. Your skin was bathed in a bright red light which prompted your eyes to travel up the wall to see the big red neon-light cross that was mounted up. You went owl-eyed as you took in the black wall with small crucifixes littered all over it. Your quaking eyes moved from the wall to the small statue on the other side of the cot of Jesus nailed to the cross.

Your line of vision hooked onto your leg, catching your wrapped and bandaged calf that was tainted by a dark small blob of your blood that had seeped through the white layers.

Your chest grew to be in painful agony from your quickening breaths, your lips quivering over the faint hyperventilation. You were afraid. So terribly afraid. Petrified fear was flooding through your senses, chilling you right down to your bones as if they were dry ice beneath your flesh. Your body shook and shivered on the thinly covered cot while tears stung your corneas, making your bloodshot eyes appear blurry. The only thought your petrified mind could conjure was the question as you stared at your handcuffed hand: What happens now?

It was as if the Jesus statue heard your question and sent you a messenger from Hell because John Doe stepped from the shadows and into the doorway of the room, the bright cross light smothering his figure in a red filter. “You’re awake.” He simply stated, his composure and expression stoic though his eyes held an unmistakable, unfiltered fondness.

You remained visibly terrified.

John nudged up a white mug that he held with both of his printless hands. “I made you some coffee.” He walked towards you to sit on the cot beside you, about two feet between yours and his thighs. If it wasn’t for the bold red light, you would’ve noticed how his face was flushed with tender longing that had been pent up behind a mask of neutrality for far too long. “Exactly how you like it. Twelve ounces of black coffee, two ounces of milk and two ounces of creamer with one teaspoon of sugar.”

He held the coffee filled mug over to you with a gentle smile. You flew your hand out to shove the mug out of his hold, it shattering into white shards on the ground. John watched it break before his eyes slowly lifted from the floor to your glaring, yet tearful, scrutiny. He didn’t release his sigh as his gaze held disappointment.

“I could have killed you if I wanted to, do you understand?” He stated, his voice remaining unnervingly calm. “But I didn’t. Because I love you. So I want to make this clear just in case it didn’t register in your brain the first time. I love you.” Your features were painted with a swirl of distress and despair as he shifted his posture to look at you easier.

“You have… enchanted me. Bewitched my mind and soul rendering me as nothing but a vessel to serve you. You are precious in my eyes, more precious than you could ever comprehend. I love you with all my heart, with all my soul and with all my mind.” His voice was monotone; layerless. Yet his eyes looked almost maddeningly hypnotized by the sight of you. And although evil and psychotic, his self-righteous depravity was motivated by his love for you and his unwavering allegiance and devotion.

He stood up to walk over to the closest set of drawers, tugging it open to pull out a few things he could fit in his hands. “I want to savor you, savor every scrap of your person.” He turned back to you to lift up a sweater you recognized in one hand and a pair of stained underwear in the other. “I’ve kept anything that’s touched you out of garbages, even underwear you’ve bled through. I kept your sweater you once left behind in the office, your chapsticks, half eaten fruits, I even safely bagged a feminine pad of yours.” A small smile tugged at his lips, almost getting excited he got to tell you all of this. “I converted my bathroom into a darkroom so I could string up all the photos I’ve taken of you. Not a single one of them was scrapped.”

Your frown was deep and your stomach was sickly twisting in harsh, thick knots. You remained silent, even if you wanted to speak your throat felt too hoarse to conjure up any words. But John noticed your feeble trembles and your mortified pupils. His expression dropped as well as the items lowering. “You think I'm a creep, don’t you?” He said gruffly.

When you didn’t reply, only holding your physical display of discomfort, he bitterly scoffed. He placed the items back into the drawer as he spoke, “I had made a vow that there wouldn’t be a day in my life that I wouldn’t cherish your very existence. Not a moment in my life will be spent without serving you, worshiping you.” He looked back at you, holding his hands out as if he was innocent. “I am simply worshiping you, treasuring everything you come into contact with. You are a miracle of God. I have to preserve you.” And his passion for you would never fade for you were the object of his undying desire; an eternal flame of his desire burning solely for you and you only even after the curtains close on his life.

While he went on his delusional rant that wasn’t thought over in the feverish and meticulous capsule of his mind, you had glanced at the dark doorway. You pondered different outcomes of different escape attempts. John caught your wandering eyes and instantly knew what thoughts were running through your brain. “You shouldn’t be thinking of escaping right now. I’m not above breaking your legs or locking you in a cage to prevent you from running away.” He stated clearly, his tone and dark eyes revealing the truthfulness of the threat.

Your eyes snapped away back to the ground. John huffed, vex revealing itself through his features. “I’m trying to express how much I feel for you, so would you please look me in the eye when I speak? It’s rude not to do so, don’t you know?”

Your eyes, glossy with coats of hot tears, looked up to him as he took the steps needed to stand in front of you. Your right hand gripped onto the sheet while your left hand held onto the chain of the handcuff, a breathy sob was holding itself in your throat. You just didn’t understand why this was happening to you. What could you have done differently, what action should you have regretted?

“I'm sorry it had to be this way. I tried so hard to be a normal man and love you in a normal way, in the socially acceptable way… but it simply won’t work. It was always going to end up like this.” John said as he looked down at you, yet despite his words his voice and eyes didn’t hint at true sympathy.

“I really am sorry that it must be this way.” He repeated as he returned to sitting next to you. “But you’re too pure, too innocent. I’m scared that this world will break you, pollute you, harm you. I’m only protecting you. This world is an ugly place. The people here are immoral and depraved. They are going to hurt you and ruin you. They are going to corrupt you, mock you, betray you, abandon you. But not me.” He slowly shuffled inches closer to you. “I am going to keep you safe, going to cherish you, worship you. I’ll take care of you. You won’t have to work or lift a finger ever again. I’ll bathe you, cook for you, provide for you, dress you, protect you. I will do anything you want.”

It was a promise that all women desired from a man, for them to be their loving and devoted slave. But that promise coming from him gave it a haunting shadow looming over it. It was a promise you prayed he wouldn’t be given the chance to keep.

Despite how tight and heavy your throat felt, you finally mustered up the courage and strength to speak weakly. “The cops will come. My family and my friends will eventually link Doug’s murder and my disappearance to you.” Your voice came out in a stuttered whimper as tears threatened to come down in streams from your pink eyes.

John’s gaze darkened, something shifting behind his plain iris’. “I won’t let anyone take you away from me. I’ll kill any bastard who tries.” His declaration held not an ounce of hesitation nor subterfuge nor an implication of sanity. You knew to not underestimate his covetousness from the way he’s proven repeatedly that he would go to great lengths just for a graze of your touch and attention. This man was the epitome of the farthest thing from humane; he was a monster trapped within the confinement of a human body. The most average, unsuspecting body.

A wicked, devious smirk spread upon John’s lips as he allowed his repressed chuckle to escape and resound the tense atmosphere. “And your family and your friends are the same as everyone else in this peccable society. They’ve forgotten about you by now, I’m sure of it. But not me. I'm the only one who can love you in the way you deserve.”

You looked at the man whose mind fogged with the brimming of the dazed insanity you never thought you’d see in this life with your very own eyes. “And what makes you so special.” You asked. If he truly believed in your holy superiority then why would he believe that someone as murderous as himself was the one for you?

Losing himself within an adrenaline rush of delusion and unrestrained ecstasy, John took a quick scooch closer and leaned his upper body forward. You flinched back in a state of alarmed fright, your right hand flying off the sheet to hide beside your left thigh.

“Because God had chosen me for you. God directed my attention to you and it became clear that you need me. You need me to protect you, to care for you, to love you. And that is what I intend to do. I truly am honored with the gift of being in your service. I will hail you even after my dying breath for not even death will have the power strong enough to part us. Even though impossible, if you go to Hell then I shall follow.” He rasped, his voice cheery and breathless. His tangent outing his disturbing infatuation and exposing his sinful obsession and how insane he really was.

“And what does that have to do with you indulging in your sick fantasies? How is going against my content happiness protecting or caring or loving me? You just sound like you’re making excuses for your own pervertedness.” You spat at him, furious and repugnant at his audacity and wondering how a grown man could possibly be this delusional.

John sighed, glancing off fleetingly. “I’ll confess that I can’t help but be a little.. selfish when it comes to you.” He stared at your face laced in uneasiness. “Humans are naturally selfish, (Y/n). They yearn for what they can’t possibly attain, for what they shouldn’t possess. Human instinct is obtained from bitter selfishness, a desire to take and take. No matter my constant resistance of such instincts, even I succumb. Selfishness is merely the fundamentals of humanity’s existence. That is why it is not a sin. It’s only a sin to actively act on it.” He continued to monologue, and you found his words insane.

“Despite how low I view my worth to be, how much I view my purpose to be, I’m still human. And with being human comes an animalistic drive. An uncontainable urge to tear into all that I yearn, to take what it is I deeply desire.” He rambled, each sentence that left his lips riddled with psychopathic devotion. “I realize it’s a lustful temptation fueled by my innermost greed. But isn’t this another way to serve you? Isn’t this what it means to serve?”

Your bottom lip began to involuntarily quiver, your eyes filled with numb fear as you looked at the man you now separated from the one you knew as your office desk neighbor. Your mind, vandalized with unearthly terror and dread, repeated a question as if it would save you: ‘What is wrong with him? What is wrong with him? What is wrong with him?’ It gave you something else to focus on rather than your Hellish reality.

“All I ask for in return is for you to say you love me and to let me have you… All of you.” He added with an airy pitch as sick, twisted, perverted euphoria morphed themselves into bedroom eyes. Yet you kept your lips shut. You did not want to succumb to his greedy, lustful desires.

His gaze had darkened again as his jaw began to softly tighten. “Say you love me,” he repeated, “or else I might do something we both won’t like.”

Your eyes twitched. You didn’t want to test the authenticity of his threat. “I love you.” You croaked out your forced lie, terror and self-deprecation scratching at your raw throat and cold rib cage. A smile returned to his face. He let his eyes linger on your trembling features, your eyes blown open by the intensity of your apprehension. A sense of unhinged euphoria swelled up within him at the sight of your petrified state, with the way you shivered and cowered closer to the headboard; you were so helpless, so fragile and delicate. And it cut the ropes; detaching John from his remaining ounce of genuine morality and it being lost forever.

So he jumped the gun, he pounced over your frozen body and straddled your hips all while you flinched and pressed yourself against the headboard more than before. One hand was placed on your jawline while the other rested on the crook of your neck while he leaned over you.

His breath fanned over your shaking, frowning lips. His nose rubbed and nuzzled against your cheek. He just wanted to savor you, savor each heavenly second treasuring every centimeter of skin you bless his senses with. His lips barely brushed against yours before he paused. He gazed into your eyes and you saw what you believed to be the eyes of true demented depravity; deranged psychopathy.

Finally, he captured your lips with his own as you physically tried to shrink away. But he wouldn’t allow that as he kept your lips connected before he parted to taste your lips in another angle. He would kiss your upper lip then your bottom lip as the hand that laid on the crook of your neck slowly crawled its way around your throat. He squeezed softly making you fleetingly gasp but giving him the opening to shove his tongue past your lips to taste beyond your teeth.

While his hand was still wrapped around your windpipe, he resisted his carnal urges to clutch tightly onto your delicate throat and hear how desperate your pained gasps would get. Choke you hard enough to make you grasp onto his wrists, but not hard enough to kill you. The thought made him rock his hips, grinding his clothed erection against your pelvis just once before he halted and dismissed it. This wasn’t about his pleasure, this was about yours and him fulfilling his gifted role to serve you. He wanted to pleasure his beloved angel, a messenger from god himself, and wasn’t part of serving you bringing forth your pleasure and watching you squirm in ecstasy?

He tore his hand from your throat and traveled it down to your heaving chest as if it was a magnet. His hand found itself atop your right breast, squeezing only a smidge gently as his tongue remained in your mouth, familiarizing itself with the delectable divinity.

A shudder wracked down John’s spin as a shaky moan fell from between his lips, momentarily vibrating your own lips. Right after he groped the softness through your thin bra, your hand that was gripping onto the mattress flung up to his to attempt to tear it off your breast. You clawed at his hand as it assaulted you again all while you tried to move away from John’s mouth, his saliva and drool seeping across your lips and down your chin.

He finally released your breast before sliding his hand down to your waist, resting and waiting. He slowly pulled his tongue out from your mouth, smearing it across the corner of your lips before it returned back where it belonged. Your mouth was left in a revolted grimace even as you wiped your mouth and chin, resiting a retch. John still took his time as his nose inhaled by your temple deeply, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

He then leaned back, his attention remaining glued to your ethereal countenance as his fingers clasped over the hem of your work skirt, ready to reveal to his ravishing eyes. Your eyes held a begging, scared look. “John, please.” You whimpered out your plea. The ghost of a smirk faded across his lips as his fingers curled around the hem, mentally preparing for the upcoming glory, and tugged it down in a quick, swift movement. He was going to bring your pleasure, whether you wanted it or not.

At the sight of your panties, John chewed his bottom lip with fervor as he suppressed a groan while soaking in the witnessing sight of the sacred grail of your panties in between your sheer thigh highs. His already rosy cheeks flushed further, sweat accumulating around his collar at your vulnerability. Though he hungrily awaited the heavenly domain the panties kept hidden.

Despite your begs that went in one ear and out the other, he brushed the bandaged tips of his index and middle finger over your clothed slit. He could feel it, he could feel your clit through the thin fabric of your panties after so long of just watching it through a hole in the wall. The sound of your uncomfortable whimpers flustered him, dizzied him with adoration as he vaguely panted.

His hands ran up and down your calves, not adjusting his motion even for your bandaged bullet wound, as he stared down at it. You were stuck in between your repulsion of him touching you in any way and your absolute terror of what he would do if you wouldn’t let him. You made an attempt to snap your thighs shut but he kept his grip on your legs tight.

And before you could even register it, your panties sheltered your cunt no longer once he hastily yanked them down and exposed your most intimate parts to his orbs, the same orbs that ravished the sight so hungrily. You yelped a helpless “John, no, please” and reached your hand down to pathetically cover yourself from his predatory gaze but he simply snatched your hand before it got close enough.

His tongue swiped over his bottom lip, nearly salivating at the sight. His lustful temptations, his animalistic urge, and his bitter greed all overwhelmed him. He wanted to fucking ravage you and milk you of your nectar despite your clear objections. He quickly hurled himself to his knees on the floor, forcing your legs over the ledge of the cot and zealously spreading your thighs far apart. The feeling of his breath against your exposed cunt made you grip tightly onto the sheets, and his hesitant kiss on your lower lips made you sharply inhale.

John felt sickening excitement warp inside him before he licked your slit, teasing both himself and you. He dragged his tongue over your slit again, lapping over your wet cunt and humming at your flavorful dew. Despite your whining protests and pleads of halting, he just couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Your taste was utterly addictive.

His insane infatuation for you pushed him to plunge his tongue into your forbidden flower. As he continued to suckle on your clit, lapping his tongue over the sensitive bud, your moan echoed within the bounds of the red lit bedroom. You cursed yourself for releasing it even though you tried to repress it with all of your willpower.

His tongue masqueraded in quick frolics before switching to fervently diving and plunging into your core. He slurped your juices with such intensity that another, but louder, moan you violently tried to swallow back spilled out of your throat, your brows twisting upward from the unwanted yet unexpected pleasure.

Though your mind was hazy and scattered, you managed to press your hands against his head, attempting to push him away. Yet the physical display of your opposition merely evoked a sadistic groan from his lips. And that same groan vibrated against your cunt, making you release another abrupt moan from those pretty lips of yours that he adores.

You tried to muffle your own unwanted, stuttered moans by biting your bottom lip yet that provided you no aid. “Stop! Stop, plea, ah! John, stop!” Your wailing begs overcame your unintentional yelps of wretched ecstasy but it was as though he was unable to hear your begging, like he was selectively falling deaf as he eats for what he yearns for.

This wasn’t for your pleasure, it was for his own lustful selfishness.

The remnants of humanity was long-lost in him as all that was left was his fatal infatuation, his narcissistic desire, and his severe unhealthy obsession. As much as he wanted to crawl over you and thrust himself into you, harshly pump in and out until his translucent seed filled you, he meant when he said he wanted to savor you. He would take his time with reenacting each and every one of his fantasies with you, and if you didn’t like him simply sucking your vulva then you certainly weren’t going to like what else he had planned.

The whimpers tumbling from your lips pulled John back to his heavenly reality. And one harsh suck he drew forced a particularly loud moan from you.

He smiled against your cunt, giddy that he could bring out such melodic noises from you. Yet this blossomed a hunger for more, more of your sounds. He wanted to watch you unravel over and over and over. Watch your beautiful terror and fear cover your face while moaning in unwanted pleasure.

As his face was buried between your thighs, you squirmed and writhed in both pleasure and an instinct to get away due to your terror of him. And as he pumped his tongue into your sopping cunt, juices squelching with his saliva, his pace only grew more rapid and ruthless.

You felt the unwanted bubbling in your stomach of your upcoming orgasm as your cloudy eyes casted down to unintentionally interlock with his carnivorous eyes. His tongue went faster and faster as your mouth hung open, your heavenly moans filling the room. And despite your desperate resistance, you soaked that monster's mouth with your climax. You would’ve sobbed at this assault if your head didn’t throw back as your last moan left you.

John sucked out your remaining fluids from your leaking, abused pussy before fleetingly biting your sweaty inner thigh. He pulled away, licking his lips, and rose up to his feet to eye down at your panting, powerless form. When you locked eyes, he couldn’t help but smile. A smile that stirred fear deep within your gut as delusion and insanity swirled together within his ghostly hues.

You realized your fate was doomed from the very moment his eyes found you. And the way he looked at you, you despairingly learned that now that he has you, he will never let you go.