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autumnshighlady · 9 months ago

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Run For Your Life (pt. 2)

Dark!Azriel x dark!reader

summary: you've been with Azriel for 6 months now, and you began to embrace your twisted side. Azriel finds out what happens with you're pissed off, and you decide to punish him.

special dedication to @febbrile for giving me this idea for part 2

warnings: DARK FIC! both Az and reader are unhinged psychos, sub!azriel, dom!reader, flirting, possessiveness, knife play, orgasm denial, masturbation, face sitting, gore and violence, terrible communication, there's one thing that's deliberately left unclear (send me an ask with what you think it is / what actually happened)

word count: 8.7k

see the playlist for this fic

read part 1 here

A/N: As you may know, i've had a very rough few days. I was going to take a break from writing but decided to finish this fic up first, so the last 500 ish words are rushed and i apologize for that but i hope you enjoy anyway

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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“I’m going to have so much fun with you.” He purred before his shadows encompassed him and he vanished, leaving you alone wondering what just happened.

SIX MONTHS LATER

You tapped your nails on the wooden bartop, scowling. The whiskey burned your throat, but you barely felt it. You were pretty sure a male from a few seats down from you was trying to get your attention, but his yappy voice faded into the background. The skin tight black dress you donned was constricting, making your skin sticky and sweaty. But you paid it no mind, for your attention was elsewhere.

Azriel was chatting with a pretty female over by the counter where you order food. She was tall and leggy, curly black hair swept into an elegant updo that showed off the open back of her dress. Her hand was brushing against Azriel’s arm, her head thrown back in a high pitched laugh at a joke that surely can’t have been that funny. Anger shot through your veins as Azriel’s white canines flashed in a charming smile, not even glancing your direction.

You couldn’t decide whose throat you wanted to slit more.

For the past six months, Azriel’s visits had become an everyday routine. At first, you had resisted, attempting to fight him off as you began to realise one night wasn’t enough to satisfy his obsession with you. He always emerged victorious, always getting what he wanted in the end, your traitorous body urging you to let him take care of you. It had taken you a few weeks to come to your senses, but you were glad. Azriel knew exactly how to take care of you, not just in the bedroom, but in everyday life. He chose your outfits for you, your meals, your nights out, everything. At first, you hated it. But now, it was freeing. You no longer had to worry about anything, knowing Azriel would take care of it.

Azriel took excellent care of things that belonged to him.

Every cell in your body needed him now. He was like oxygen, a constant requirement to keep your body going. Every second the shadowsinger spent away from you was pure torture, leaving you a whiny mess when he returned from work. To anyone else, it would seem pathetic, like you were a helpless wreck of a female. But they couldn’t be more wrong. It was the opposite – it made you powerful. Not only did you belong to Azriel, but Azriel belonged to you. You had the spymaster of the Night Court all to yourself, wrapped around your finger and ready to bend the world to your whim.

Except it didn’t feel that way right now, as the male you were now completely obsessed with was eyeing up the cleavage on another female. You scowled harder as he did nothing to deter the female as she stepped even closer to him, practically crawling into his lap. The bartender handed you another shot, and you angrily downed it, not even feeling the burn.

A male slid into the seat next to you, so close you could smell his cheap cologne. He was on the shorter side, blonde shaggy hair framing his boyish face. Large eyes drank in your figure hungrily, and he slid a hand up your back with the confidence of a much more attractive male. “Another drink for the lady over here.” He said to the bartender, flashing you what he must have thought was a charming smile. “So, what’s a pretty female like you doing–”

“Fuck off.” You grumbled, interrupting him. You reached behind and slapped his arm off your back, his skin like a wad of slime on your own.

“Oh, come on, baby,” The male persisted. “I just bought you a drink. The least you could do is entertain me.”

You groaned inwardly, sneaking a glance at Azriel. He had finally looked up at you, hazel eyes simmering with rage. The female leaning against him was too busy giggling to notice that his attention was no longer on her. His scarred hand was limp on her waist, his body frozen as he glared at you. It made you snort, how hypocritical he was being to only look at you when another male had your attention, despite him being the one with a female draping herself all over him.

So you ignored the shadowsinger. Let him have a hissy fit, as far as you were concerned he was going to fuck the pretty female anyway. If he can branch out, why can’t you. You quickly downed the drink the bartender sat in front of you, then turned toward the blonde male next to you, giving him your best sultry look. “I have a better idea,” You purred. “Why don’t I entertain you somewhere else?”

His eyes widened, a look of surprise and glee crossing his face as he fumbled to toss some money to the bartender for the drinks. You gathered your purse, turning around to meet Azriel’s stare once again. Rage came off him in waves, causing the few fae around him to scatter themselves elsewhere. Even the female that had been all over him had taken a step back in uncertainty, her eyes flickering between him and where his gaze was fixed – you. The spymaster’s body was frozen, a muscle in his neck twitching in anger. You half expected him to storm over and fling the male aside, grab you by the waist and drag you home to punish you. But he did no such thing. He only glared at you as you grabbed the male by the arm, leading him towards the exit.

You didn’t glance back at Azriel as the male followed you out of the bar and down the road towards the nearby motel.

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

Sunlight crept in through the small window next to the bed. The motel’s breakfast was dry and tasteless on your tongue, but you downed it anyway. The bed sheets were half on the floor, your dress from last night draped across the chair in the corner. You were wearing the male’s button-up shirt, the itchy fabric pungent with his scent mixed with yours, the bottom barely long enough to cover your ass. It was uncomfortable, but your dress got ruined last night anyway. You’d have to find somewhere to dispose of it properly.

You had a pounding headache, but the memories from last night couldn’t have been more clear. The images of Azriel’s angry glare, the male’s hands on your body, the pathetic noises he made for you after you left the bar, they were all crystal clear in your mind. You were still furious with Azriel, but satisfied that you got him back.

However, a part of you knew he was angrier than ever before. There had not been a trace of his presence all night, not even his shadows that seemed to always be around you, reporting your every movement back to him. Evidently, he hadn’t even tried to find out where you had gone last night. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous – either Azriel had abandoned you completely, or he was sitting at home, just waiting for you to return.

You shuddered, wondering what he was going to do to you. Maybe he truly would leave you for the other female, maybe that’s how mad he was.

No. You weren’t going to let him do that.

You downed the rest of the breakfast, gathering your things to get ready to check out. You sighed when you realised you had no pants, as the only thing the male had left behind was his undershirt. You stuffed your ruined dress in a paper bag, shut off the lights and left the motel room, not caring that your ass was nearly on display for the world to see.

First stop was to find some pants, and then you had business to take care of.

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

Luckily, it didn’t take you long to find a store to obtain some pants. Everyone had stared at your bare legs as you wandered in, but you didn’t care. In fact, it made you chuckle. If Azriel was here, he would have gone ballistic. He was the only one allowed to see you like this. If he knew that over a dozen people had seen your ass cheeks in the last hour, you couldn’t even imagine what he’d have done.

With a set of pants, you had returned to the bar, posing as a friend of the female Azriel was with last night and trying to find out more about her. The mother seemed to be on your side that day, as one of the bartenders was a close friend of hers. He blabbed easily, and within minutes you were able to find out her name, where she usually went on Saturday mornings like this one, and where she lived. Her name was Beatrice, and she always went to the farmer’s market every weekend to pick up fresh vegetables for the week. She lived in a house near the theatre, right in the heart of the city.

So you wandered towards the farmer’s market, hair down and hanging loosely around your face to hide it. The air was crisp and fresh, chatter from the market filling the air as you hovered in the corner, pretending to sift through a barrel of apples.

It wasn’t hard to spot Beatrice. Her curly black hair was trailing down her back, her cheeks flushed with evidence of a hangover. She wore a simple pair of black leggings and a yellow sweater, a cheerful smile on her face as she chatted with one of the vendors. It was almost annoying how she looked just as elegant as she had last night. You made sure to trail her from a distance, staying out of her sight. You wondered if Azriel would be proud, but shook off the thought as soon as it came.

Once you were sure Beatrice only had a few more things to pick up at the market, you slunk down one of the alleys and headed towards her house. You knew it was the fastest way, allowing you to get to her house before she did.

It was a modest home, sunflowers lining the windowsill and a small swing on the porch. The trim was a deep brown, the wooden accents giving it a charming feel. You crept towards one of the windows along the side of the house, sneaking a glance behind you to ensure nobody was watching. You knew breaking into a house in one of the busiest parts of the city was risky. But that was also the beauty of it – there was so much going on that nobody paid attention to you.

It wasn’t hard to take a small knife and pop open the window then crawl through. You gently closed it behind you, then scanned the interior. You were in the living room, and you couldn’t deny that it impressed you. An elegant piano was in the corner, a large couch next to it with a soft-looking blanket with butterflies on it draped over the top. Various trinkets were scattered across the room, ranging from ancient-looking candle holders to a small music box designed to look like a bird cage.

You couldn’t scent Azriel in the room, much to your surprise. But that surprise was replaced by anger – if he hadn’t taken her here, then he could have taken her to his home. The thought made you see red, but you took deep breaths and settled yourself on the sofa. Beatrice would be home any minute.

About ten minutes later, the sound of keys turning the lock at the door snapped your attention back to the present. The door opened, and Beatrice entered with a large bag of vegetables. She didn’t notice you at first, closing the door behind her and turning the lock shut.

“You know, you should really lock your windows too.” You spoke casually, and the female whirled around in fright, dropping her groceries. Her brown eyes widened in fear as they met yours, and you smirked.

“What… who the hell are you and why are you in my living room?” Beatrice stammered, backing herself up against the door.

You snorted, fiddling with the necklace you had picked up off the coffee table. It was the one she was wearing last night, you remembered – a gold chain with a small emerald. “Oh, come on,” You snorted. ‘You clearly didn’t have that much to drink last night, seeing as you were able to grocery shop this morning. Think harder.”

She frowned, and then her face went slack as the realisation appeared to hit. “You were at the bar last night. I saw you leave with that blonde male. Azriel was furious about it.”

Bingo. “Ah, so you know Azriel then.”

“Not really. We met last night and flirted. It was going well until he saw you with that male, then things got tense.”

Your voice was cold as ice as you spoke. “So Azriel flirted back, then?”

Beatrice shrugged. “Yes? I see no issue with that considering you left with another male, I assumed you weren’t together. Would you mind telling me what the fuck is going on so you can leave?”

“Come, sit.” You patted the space next to you. Beatrice stayed still for a moment, then carefully walked over to the couch. Her body was tense as she sat down, her breathing shallow.

“Look,” She said slowly. “I don’t know what the deal between you two is. I thought he was available, because he flirted back with me. He did not mention you, and I am sorry about that. But then he went quiet when he saw you with the male, and he was furious when you left with him. He tried to keep flirting with me after, tried to convince me to let him come home with me, but I turned him down. I wasn’t about to be caught up between some weird power struggle between what seems to be a fighting couple. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him use me as revenge. So I rejected his advances and went home alone. That’s all, I promise.”

You swallowed the bile in your throat. Azriel had started this by flirting with Beatrice, you had every reason to retaliate. You knew Azriel probably wanted to take her home, but hearing it out loud made it even worse.

Your face must have given it away, because Beatrice’s expression softened a bit. “I’m sorry, I really am. This must be hard to hear.” She said quietly. “But in his defence, you went home with another male–”

“Shut up!” You yelled, slamming a fist into the table in front of you and making it shake. “Don’t defend him, I wouldn’t have gone home with that male if Azriel hadn’t been flirting with you first.”

Beatrice flinched away from you, fear beginning to creep back into her expression once again as she stood up. “I’m sorry,” She said. “I’m not here to judge you. I don’t want any part of this. But I’ve explained my side to you, so I think it’s best you leave.”

Beatrice walked over to where her groceries lay all over the floor and began picking them up. You bit your lip so hard you nearly drew blood, fist trembling with anger. You knew you should feel relieved that Azriel hadn’t fucked Beatrice, but that wasn’t enough.

So you took deep breaths, relaxing your body and leaning back into the soft cushion. “I’m better, you know.” You said, voice dropping huskily.

The female froze, turning around to face you once again. “What?”

“I’m better than Azriel.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do.” Your voice purred like a cat as you stood up, walking over to Beatrice. She didn’t move as you closed in on her space, your body less than a foot from hers. You could smell her sweet scent, honey and lavender, you noted. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and you leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Azriel is good in bed, but not as good as I am. Sure, he would have given you an enjoyable night, a great one even. And since Azriel is mine, and he failed to give you what you sought after, I feel I am obligated to fulfil your needs in his stead.”

Beatrice inhaled sharply, and you chuckled. You had always enjoyed bedding both males and females, and it had been so long with you submitting to Azriel that you had almost forgotten what it was like to seduce a beautiful female.

“I don’t want to get caught up in whatever this is between you two…” Beatrice’s voice was weak, the scent of her growing arousal betraying her lie.

“Oh, but this is just between you and me.” You said coolly, brushing a curly lock from her face. “Our little secret.”

When you cupped her cheek, she leaned into your touch. Satisfied, you smiled and stepped closer, pressing your body against hers. Your lips brushed hers as you spoke. “I need to hear you say it,” You murmured, caressing her waist with your free hand. “That you want me. Not him.”

“I…” Beatrice’s voice was barely above a whisper. She leaned forward in an attempt to connect her lips with your own, but you drew back.

“Be a good girl and say it.”

“I want you, not him.” She moaned as you squeezed her waist gently. “Please.”

You smiled, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the door at the back where you knew her bedroom was.

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

The sun was setting as you made your way back home, a small bag of vegetables in hand. The orange rays from the sunset reflected off the emerald necklace, the chain cold as ice around your neck. You knew Azriel would be waiting for you, and you were ready. You ignored the chill of the wind, still in the male’s shirt whose name you never bothered to learn. It offered you little protection against the cold, and you looked forward to the warmth of your home.

Stepping up to your door, the house looked empty. It was an illusion to anyone who walked by. You could sense Azriel’s presence in there, like an icy frost on the wood just waiting to bite you. But you didn’t care what Azriel’s wrath would bring. You had your own plan.

You swung open the door, locking it behind you and placing the bag of vegetables on your counter.

“Would you mind telling me where the fuck you’ve been?”

Having expected him to make a dramatic out-of-the-dark entrance, you didn’t flinch like you used to when he’d sneak up on you. You sighed in annoyance, knowing it’d infuriate him more. “Farmer’s market.” You said dryly.

Azriel’s towering form appeared from the shadows, coming across to face you on the other side of the counter. You knew he was glaring at you, but you didn’t spare him a glance. “From sunup to sundown?” He demanded.

You shrugged, laying out the vegetables. “It was a busy farmer’s market.”

A shadow found its way to your chin, yanking it up and forcing you to look at him. The sight of Azriel made you gulp. His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen, the anger coming off of him in waves. If you were anyone else, you’d have cowered in fear. But you only raised an eyebrow. “Don’t lie to me.” He said icily. “You were with that male last night, were you with him today, too?”

“Why the fuck does it matter to you?” You spat. “You were too busy burying your dick inside that female to notice me. Not my fault someone else finished what you couldn’t.” The words were completely untrue, but you didn’t care. You just needed them to land their mark.

Azriel laughed heartlessly, but the anger in his eyes grew stronger. “Are you really that fucking pathetic that I’m not allowed to take my attention off of you for five minutes? Is that all it takes for you to go crawling to the nearest male ready to get fucked?”

“She was flirting with you, you absolute prick!” You screamed at him, ripping away from the shadow’s grip and storming towards the bedroom. “And you flirted back! Don’t act like you’re the victim here. You wanted to make me jealous, but what? You didn’t think I was capable of doing the same?”

Azriel followed you. “Don’t walk away from me.”

You tried to slam the door in his face, but his muscular arm caught it, easily prying it open. Azriel roughly grabbed you and slammed you into the wall. You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he didn’t budge. “You’re the one who fucked someone else, not me.” He growled.

You chuckled manically. “Is that what you think happened, Az?”

His grip tightened, bruising your arms. “Don’t play dumb, you stupid whore. I saw you leave with him.”

You kept chuckling, body singing with adrenaline. You saw Azriel’s gaze go down to your body, where an unmistakably male shirt clung to you. The look in his eyes was positively murderous. Wordlessly, he let go of you and you fell to the ground, continuing to laugh at him as he went towards the door.

“Where are you going?” You asked through giggles.

Azriel grabbed truth-teller from his waist, turning to face you. “You have one chance to tell me where that male is, or I will find him myself.”

You pushed yourself up, sighing and letting out another sick laugh. Excitement bubbled in you as you spoke. “I’m not sure there will be much left of him to find.”

For the first time since you’d met him, Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise. He went utterly still, hand frozen on the door handle. Nothing moved, except for you. You were practically buzzing, a new kind of high taking over you.

“What are you talking about?” Azriel’s voice was low.

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

The male’s hands were all over you as you walked towards the motel. You resisted the urge to squirm away at his teenager-like giddiness. You didn’t feel the cold night air, your body was hot with adrenaline.

“I can’t wait to fuck you, baby.” The male said breathlessly, squeezing your ass with one hand.

You let out a fake laugh, but lead him off the cobblestone road. The motel was a few feet away, but that wasn’t where you wanted to take him. Your heels sunk into the mud, dirtying your feet as you headed towards the dark trees in the distance. You felt the male slow behind you.

“Aren’t we going to the motel?” He asked with uncertainty.

“What fun would that be?” You grabbed his hand and pulled him harder. “Come on, trust me.”

The moron just shrugged and continued to follow you. It was another ten minutes before you found a clearing, having nearly tripped over giant roots to get there. This place would do nicely, you decided.

You turned around to face the male, but his shirt was already off and he was in the process of unbuttoning his pants. “Adventurous!” He said excitedly. “I am so fucking hard baby, if you don’t get on your knees and do something about it now I think I might die.”

“Yes,” You said, sliding the knife out of the holster on your thigh. “You will.”

The male barely had a chance to speak before you brought the dagger up and slashed it across his face. Blood spurted from the nasty gash as he fell down, sobbing and clutching his face. His pants were down at his knees, a truly pathetic sight.

“There’s only one male allowed to touch me,” You said calmly. “And if he found out you laid your hands on me, he would do much worse to you than what I’m going to do. So be grateful.”

The male sobbed, pleading and begging pathetically for you to spare his life. But you weren’t phased. After all, your words were true. Nothing you did to him could compare to what Azriel would have done. You were proud of yourself for granting him this mercy. You didn’t know this male at all, know if he’d done anything to deserve a more painful death. But truthfully, you didn’t care.

You leaned down over him, pressing your body into his. It made you want to vomit, but you needed as much of his scent on you as possible. “I want you to thank me.” You said sternly. “Thank me for being merciful. Without me, your death would be stretched over the span of months, if not years. So thank me.”

“Thank you!” The male shouted. “Please, let me go!” It seemed he would do anything you asked if he thought there was a chance at sparing his life. But there wasn’t.

You slashed the dagger across his throat, and hot blood spurted all over you, coating your dress. The male choked on his own blood, sick gurgling sounds echoing throughout the eerie quietness of the clearing. It didn’t take long for the light to fade from his eyes, and death finally claimed him.

Satisfied, you stood up and headed over to the creek to wash the blood off your skin and wipe down the dagger. The water was refreshing, soothing your warm cheeks. You grabbed the male’s discarded shirt and pulled your ruined dress off, rolling the fabric into a ball and stuffing it into your purse. Pulling the shirt over your head, you strode back in the direction of the motel, knowing the wolves will have gotten rid of the body for you by sunhigh.

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

You smirked as Azriel stared you down after you told him the story, dumbfounded. His lack of ability to comprehend that you killed the male was almost insulting, but you mostly found it funny. He looked adorable with his eyes wide and his jaw slack, shock written all over his pretty face. It made your blood sing.

“You killed him.” It was more of a statement than a question. No judgement laced Azriel’s deep voice, just awe. Almost as if he was impressed.

“I did.” You said proudly, crossing your arms over your chest. “You would have been proud of me, Az, if you were there. If you had actually paid attention to me instead of trying to fuck Beatrice.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, and you instantly realised your mistake. He took a step towards you, cocking his head. “I never told you her name.”

You cursed inwardly at your slip up. You had gotten so caught up in sticking it to Azriel that you mentioned Beatrice by name, something you weren’t supposed to do. Oh well, you’d just have to improvise. “No, you didn’t.” You purred, pointedly bringing your hand up to toy with the emerald necklace.

Azriel’s hazel eyes zoned in on the necklace, and his face went slack once again. “Did you kill her too?”

You giggled, the ice cold necklace a contrast against your warm fingers. “That doesn’t matter to you. Because you won’t get to fuck her, so it shouldn’t matter if she’s dead or alive.”

“She was innocent in this.” Azriel growled. “She didn’t know you were with me.”

“Innocent is hardly the word I’d use.” You snorted. “Besides, you don’t get to be a fucking hypocrite. So you can kill males who put their hands on me but I can’t do the same?”

“You shouldn’t have to!” Azriel hissed, towering over you with his wings flaring. “You are mine. It is my job to protect you, to keep your hands clean. You should not be involved in this shit”

You glared up at him. “I guess I’m just as twisted as you now.”

Something inside the spymaster shifted at your words, and his shoulders slumped. He reached his arms out and wrapped them around you, pulling you into his strong chest. You felt his chin rest against the top of your head, and he inhaled your scent. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” He murmured. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have ignored you, this is all my fault. Please forgive me, I cannot lose you. You are all I think about every breathing moment of my existence. There’s not a line in the world I wouldn’t cross for you. Please tell me how I can make it up to you.”

Part of you wanted to melt into Azriel’s arms, to let him shield you from the rest of the world. To lay you down and worship your body like a priest at the altar, making you feel good and see stars. He was so good at taking care of you, even when he was an ass about it he always knew exactly what you needed at that moment.

But for the first time, you didn’t give in, wanting to show that side of you that you had kept hidden from him. Until now. “You want to make it up to me, Az?” You cooed.

He nodded against your hair, squeezing tighter.

“Kneel.” You said firmly.

Azriel paused, pulling away but keeping his hands on your waist as he stared down at you in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, kneel.” Your voice was edged like steel, a husky but harsh tone to it, one you hadn’t used in a while. At first, you weren’t sure if it would work. Azriel was a dominant male and loved control, seeing if he would be willing to give it up for you was a huge gamble.

But while Azriel had never uttered the words ‘I love you’, he had always promised you that you were his world, that he would do anything for you. And this was his chance to prove it.

“You think you’re in charge?” Azriel’s tone was light, testing the waters to see if you were serious or not. “Come on, sweetheart. You know how good I can make you feel. Let me take over, so you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about a thing.”

You stood with your chin high, unflinching as you repeated yourself. “Kneel.”

Azriel swallowed, and for a moment you thought he was going to laugh and walk out. But the male simply bowed his head, dropping to his knees and placing his scarred hands in his lap. You stepped back, satisfied as you admired the view. The silver moonlight through the windows cast beautiful highlights across the Illyrian. His glorious wings were flared out slightly, the bottom part lightly trailing on the ground. Azriel’s dark hair cast shadows across his face, the only light coming from it being his curious hazel eyes looking up at you. He looked like a fallen angel, a once mighty god begging at your feet.

Satisfaction flooded through your body. The roles would be reversed tonight, you decided. Azriel would be the one begging you this time. You began unbuttoning your shirt, and the male’s hands instinctively reached up to help, so you slapped them away. “Did I say you could move?” You demanded.

“No.” Azriel said sullenly, moving his hands back into his lap obediently. His eyes were dark, a turmoil of emotions behind them. You could tell he was fighting his instincts to assume his usual role, grabbing you and pinning you to the bed to do with as he pleased. But he was fighting to obey you, to give you satisfaction in a different form.

“Then stay there,” You commanded sternly. “And watch.”

Azriel’s throat bobbed, seemingly swallowing his protests as he nodded. You shed your shirt and pants, striding confidently over to your bedside drawer, letting your hips sway as you went. You could feel Azriel’s intense gaze burning into you with curiosity, making you chuckle inwardly. He was about to get a taste of his own medicine.

For months, Azriel had controlled your pleasure. He decided when you could touch yourself, when you were allowed to cum, how many times you could be pushed over the edge. And you gladly gave yourself to him, willingly subjecting yourself to his torturous teasing whenever he was mad at you. Once, the spymaster had edged you for an entire night until you passed out. Tears had streamed down your face for hours, body aching the next day from being so tense. Azriel was a generous lover, but a cruel one as well. And now it was your time to turn the tables on him.

You opened the drawer, grabbing the blue vibrator he had gifted you all those months ago. It hadn’t been used much since – there were only a few times when Azriel’s shadows would hold the vibrator to your clit as he pounded into you, as he preferred to use his own hands. As good as the vibrator was, it couldn’t compare to the spymaster’s touch. Which is why you knew he was about to be driven to madness.

Sexual weapon in hand, you walked back over to the kneeling Illyrian. You stopped centimetres from his face, which was level with your thigh. He was breathing heavy, eyes dark as he inhaled your scent. But he had learned from his previous mistake it seemed, as he kept his hands to his sides.

“Take off my panties.” You said coldly. “And do not use your hands.”

Azriel stared up at you, the hazel in his eyes barely visible. He leaned forward, his teeth finding the edge of your blue lace panties. They grasped it, his lips brushing your skin as sharp canines tugged at the fabric. He visibly shuddered, his lips so close to where he wanted them to be, yet not allowed to touch. The scent of your arousal was thick in the air, forcing Azriel to ignore it. You sucked in a breath as his eyes met yours as he managed to slowly pull them down your thighs, not breaking eye contact as they fell to your feet.

You stepped out of the fabric, kicking them to the side and turning around to settle yourself on the bed. You sat on the end, facing Azriel and slowly spreading open your legs. The male’s eyes zeroed in on your glistening cunt, and you noticed his hands trembling with effort to keep them at his sides. You turned on the vibrator, placing the suctioning tip against your clit. The sensation made your legs twitch at the sudden contact, and you let out a loud moan, letting your free hand cup your breast.

Admittedly, the moan was a bit of an exaggeration to piss off Azriel. Evidently, it worked. The shadowsinger was glaring at you. “Oh please,” He scoffed. “We both know that won’t be enough to satisfy you.”

You let out another sigh, kicking the vibrator’s intensity up a notch. “It’s more than you gave me last night. I wore one of your favourite dresses, and you didn’t even try to touch me. I’ve had to go and find satisfaction elsewhere, since you wouldn’t give me any.”

The room was stifling, the scent of Azriel’s arousal mixed with your own, and the faintest traces of Beatrice’s honey and lavender perfume clinging to your skin. You rocked your hips against the toy, your cunt weeping mere feet from Azriel’s desperate face.

“Stop.” He growled sternly. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart. Come on, you know I can do better than that toy.”

You ignored him, your other hand trailing from your breast across your collarbones, caressing all over your skin as you felt that familiar pressure build up in your stomach. It was a slightly foreign sensation, a different feeling than how the buildup to your orgasm when Azriel ate you out felt, or the way your body neared climax with his cock buried inside you. You imagined it was Azriel’s fingers on your clit, expertly working you as you came closer to your orgasm.

“Ok, this little act is over.” Azriel tried to sound firm, but there was a weakness in his voice that dimmed his threat. “Let me touch you. You know the rule – you’re not allowed to cum without my permission. And I don’t give you permission.”

You chuckled at the falter in his tone. “No. You are going to sit there and watch me do what you failed to do the other night. Your rules don’t apply tonight, Az, so suck it up. If you want to touch me, you’ll have to beg.”

Your voice went high pitched as your legs began to shake. Azriel’s protests faded into background noise as you came, your lower body heated and electrified as your orgasm went through you. It wasn’t as intense as some you’d had before, but the unceasing buzzing against your clit as you writhed through your high made you oversensitive.

Once you had come down from your climax, you set the vibrator aside, staring at Azriel. The veins in his arms were prominent with his effort to keep himself from pouncing on you. Disbelief was written all over his face, as if he couldn’t believe you had actually obeyed him. And that he had let you.

“I told you, your rules don’t apply tonight.” You panted heavily. “Now remove your clothes and lay down on the bed.”

Azriel scrambled to his feet, glaring at you but obliging anyways. He smirked confidently as he peeled his shirt off, revealing those rock hard abs that you loved riding so much. You could never get enough of his body, no matter how many times he stripped in front of you. He was truly a work of art from head to toe.

The spymaster unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down to reveal his rock hard erection. Your mouth watered at the sight of his naked form, but you did not budge. You only stared at him coldly, rather than dropping to your knees and giving in like he had clearly expected. Letting out a huff of frustration, Azriel crawled onto his bed, flipping onto his back and settling in.

Shadows curled around his wrists, bringing his arms above his head and holding them prisoner there. Azriel’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and you giggled. It seems his shadows were on your side tonight.

You crawled over top of him, straddling his waist. His hard cock poked into your backside, making your core pulse against his muscled lower abs. You leaned over top of him, placing one hand beside his head and placing your face inches from his own. The spymaster was breathing heavily, staring up at you with awe.

“You weren’t good to me last night, Azriel.” Your voice dropped, a dangerous tone gleaming on the edge of it. “You flirted with another female when I had gotten all dressed up for you. Instead of even just looking at me, you tried to take her home and fuck her instead of me.”

“I didn’t f–” Azriel’s protest was cut off by a gasp, as you lifted your hips off of him and your free hand reached down and firmly gripped the base of his cock, just how he liked it. He choked on his words, eyes widening as you slowly moved your hand up and down.

“You think she’d be enough to satisfy you?” You teased, mocking his words to you earlier. “She satisfied me well enough. But she wouldn’t be able to give you what I can. She wouldn’t know how you like your cock stroked, but I do.”

To emphasise your point, you squeezed him tighter and twisted your wrist, letting your thumb graze the slit. Azriel let out a breathy moan, shutting his eyes.

“Look at me.” You snapped, forcing the male to open his eyes. He obliged, letting out little gasps as you continued to stroke him.

You leaned forward and let your lips graze his neck, your teeth skimming the skin ever so slightly as you picked up the pace of your strokes. Azriel whimpered underneath you – whimpered. The sound was pathetic and needy, and filled you with so much joy. His pretty face was scrunched up with effort, his hands writhing in his unrelenting shadows. You lightly sucked and bit all across his neck and collarbones, knowing that the feather light touches would drive him wild and send him towards his orgasm faster. You knew Azriel always lasted a long time, his god-like stamina making your body tremble as he relentlessly pounded you through orgasm after orgasm.

But you knew by the way his cock twitched in your hand that he wouldn’t last long like this. You let the tip of his cock graze your slit as you pumped, and the shadowsinger moaned loudly, his muscles flexing.

“You like that, pretty boy?” You cooed against his neck.

Azriel whimpered, bucking his hips into your hand.

“None of that now,” You chastised. “I asked you a question.”

He exhaled. “Yes.” Was all he could manage through his moans.

“I can feel how close you are, it’s pathetic. Normally you last longer. Is this something you’ve dreamed of, baby? Hm? Tell me, do you want to cum?”

Azriel’s eyelids fluttered as he fought to keep still underneath you, a thin sheen of sweat coating his tanned body. “Yes! Gods, yes. Please.”

You sank your teeth into his neck, biting down harshly and making him cry out. Your hand next to his arm shifted, letting your fingertips graze the edge of his wing. “Beg for it then.”

“Please,” The spymaster whimpered. “I’ll do anything you want. Please, just let me cum. Please.”

You hummed, pretending to consider it. Just as his abs tensed signifying his nearing release, you sat up and released his cock. Azriel let out a frustrated yet pathetic groan. “What the fuck?” He protested.

“Not so fun being on the receiving end of that one, is it?” You asked, sitting down on his abs and lazily grinding yourself into them. “I know you’d rather die than admit that you secretly fucking loved it. How pathetic is that? The mighty spymaster of the Night Court, crying underneath me because I wouldn’t let him finish.”

Azriel’s face was deep red, his jaw clenched. A few strands of black hair clung to his forehead. “Please,” He begged with droopy eyes. “I fucked up. Let me make it up to you. Please, let me touch you. Let me make you feel good. Please, I need to touch you. I need you. All I want is to make you feel good.”

You scraped your nail down his chest, eliciting a shiver from the body beneath you. “Is that so?”

“Yes ma’am.”

A wave of arousal had rushed through your veins at not just the title, but the ease at which he said it. It rolled off his tongue so naturally. Sure, you had been called many names in the bedroom before in both submissive and dominant roles, but this was new. And you fucking loved it.

You gripped his chin firmly, letting your nails dig into the skin as you brought your face closer to his. “Say that again.”

He gulped. “Yes ma’am. Please, let me make you feel good.”

You chuckled darkly, sitting up. The shadows repositioned his arms slightly, giving more room on either side of Azriel’s head for what you were about to do, as if they knew already. “I’m going to sit on your face and use you like my own personal toy. You are going to choke on my cunt just as I have choked on your cock, and you are going to be grateful for it and thank me after. You do not get to touch me with your hands, and you will take what I give you. Am I clear?”

Azriel nodded vigorously, eyes gleaming. Truthfully, you knew this was a reward for him. There was nothing in this world he loved more than eating you out. He had often even encouraged you to ride his face. But never before had he not been able to grab your hips and touch you.

You climbed up his body, seating one knee on either side of his head where the shadows had now cleared space for you. As you slowly lowered your cunt towards his face, the Illyrian strained his neck to lift his head as high as he could in a pathetic attempt to get closer to your core.

Briefly, you recalled all the times Azriel had lectured you about how you refused to fully sit on his face, afraid you’d suffocate him. He’d always end up growling in frustration and grabbing your hips, firmly pulling you down so you were seated on his face.

It was time you showed him you learned your lesson.

With no warning, you lowered your cunt onto his face, fully seating yourself on it and grabbing onto his hair with both hands. Azriel groaned in delight underneath you, the sound sending vibrations right into your core. You moaned in relief, rocking your hips against his face. Lewd noises filled the room as Azriel ate you out like a man who hadn’t had a meal in days, eagerly slurping up all your juices. You shamelessly ground into his face, wanting more.

You cried out as his tongue shoved its way inside you, your clit scraping his nose in a way that made your legs twitch. For a second you wondered how Azriel was managing to breathe, but his relentlessness reassured you that he was perfectly fine somehow.

“You’re so fucking good at this,” You moaned. “It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? Eating my pussy? Pretty boy is just a desperate little whore, isn’t that right?”

The noise Azriel made was muffled, but akin to a pathetic whimper. Something you knew would ring in your ears like a new favourite song.

It only took a few more minutes before your orgasm built up, barrelling towards you at rapid speed. Your thighs tensed up, clenching around his face as you came, yanking harshly on his silky hair. Azriel groaned as you did so, your juices coating his face. Part of you had been tempted to not let him make you finish, but you couldn’t help it. His mouth felt too good on you, something you had missed over the last few days.

Finally, you lifted yourself off Azriel’s face, hearing him take in a gasping breath as you did so. His hazel eyes were closed in bliss, face shiny from your juices as he panted for air. “Thank you, ma’am.” He murmured. You crawled down his body, seating yourself back on his abs while you collected your composure.

“You did so good, Az.” You purred, reaching behind you and gently brushing your fingers against his hard cock. “You’re so good to me. Now, have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Azriel said breathlessly.

“What lesson would that be?”

“Don’t flirt with other females.”

“Exactly.” You pulled out Truth-Teller from its sheath and pressed the sharp blade against his throat, the shadows having discreetly brought it to you from the spymaster’s discarded belt. “You are mine, and mine only. Nobody else gets to have you but me. Nobody gets to touch you but me. If they do, I will remove their hands and feed their body to the beasts in the woods. And if you try to touch another female in a manner I would not deem fit, it will be your body that gets fed to the creatures. Understood?”

Azriel’s hazel eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of awe, horror, and lust. It made you chuckle inwardly, how he seemed surprised that this is who you had become. You weren’t sure why he would be – he had become your new life, every fibre of your being tied to his and his alone. Azriel was unhinged and possessive to begin with, even more so now that he had you.

He was bad, but you were worse.

“Yes ma’am.” Azriel croaked out, swallowing against the cold metal of the blade.

“Good. Now you’ve made me cum, I think it’s only fair if I let you do the same, right?”

“You may do as you see fit, ma’am.”

A smile bloomed across your face. You could tell it was hard for him to say – his cock was hard as a diamond, his body begging for a release. But he chose the right answer. “Correct. You may fuck me now, any position you see fit. But you are not to cum without my permission.”

The second the shadows binding Azriel’s wrists together slipped away, his scarred hands grabbed your waist and flipped you over, pinning you underneath him. His eyes were frantic as if he worried you’d change your mind. He roughly spread your legs and you let him, relishing in the feeling of him over top of you. He lined up his cock with your entrance and slammed in.

You gasped, the air leaving your body. Azriel’s size was something you would never quite get used to. It had taken you a long time to be able to take him with no preparation, and even then it still hurt like hell for the first bit. But you learned to relish in the pain, especially when he praised you for taking him so well.

But there was no praise coming from his lips this time. Azriel fucked you relentlessly, chasing the pleasure that you had denied him earlier. His movements were frantic, a change from his usual deliberate pace. The room was filled with slapping sounds and moans. Azriel was hitting so deep inside of you that you began to feel dizzy, your eyes rolling back in your head.

Azriel had fucked you harder than anyone ever had before, but this was completely different. It took less than five minutes for Azriel to tense up, signifying he was approaching his orgasm quickly.

“You’re going to cum, aren’t you?” You teased, voice shaky with the force of his thrusts.

Azriel leaned over you, his head next to yours with one arm cradled around your head. “Yes! Please, I need it! Please let me cum.” His voice was utterly broken and fragmented.

You were silent for ten seconds, just long enough to feel the panic coming from him, making him think you were going to say no. But you brought a hand up and stroked his wing in that one spot you knew drove him crazy. “Yes. Good boy. Cum for me, Azriel.”

The spymaster erupted into a powerful orgasm the second his name finished leaving your lips. Hot seed filled your insides, making you cry out. His hips jutted against you as he came, his head tilted back exposing his throat as he moaned loudly, a single tear running down his cheek.

Azriel’s thrusts slowed as he rode out his orgasm, pumping his cum back into you as it spilled out of your hole. He panted, wings twitching as he pulled out and slumped down into the spot beside you on the bed. “Thank you, ma’am.”

You hummed, satisfied with your work. If you had told yourself months ago that you would be the one to break Azriel one night, you’d have laughed at yourself. It filled you with pride, seeing the stone cold, dominating shadowsinger become a whimpering mess all because of you.

It made everything you had done worth it.

You reached for Truth-Teller, propping yourself up beside him and putting the cold blade onto his skin, causing him to flinch and look at you in surprise. You trailed the knife down his body, circling it around where his heart was. You angled the blade, pressing the tip of it into his skin, right above the beating muscle. A thin trail of blood ran down from the cut. “This heart is mine. And if you try to give it to anyone else, I will carve it out of you myself.”

The shadowsinger was holding his breath, unmoving against your touch. You knew that he would easily be able to disarm you if he needed to, but there was still a hint of fear in his eyes.

No, he was not scared of you cutting his heart from his chest. He was scared of you running away from him.

You smirked, satisfied at his reaction. You weren’t going anywhere. You were right here with Azriel, where you belonged.

#azriel #azriel x reader #sub!azriel #sub!azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #dark!azriel x reader #dark!azriel #acotar smut #a court of thorns and roses #dark fic #smut #dom!reader

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ender--slime · 2 months ago

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AAAAAAAND PREORDERS ARE CLOSED!

holy shit!! thank you all four million bajillion times THANK YOU for the overwhelming support!! the total order count came tooooo…

FIVE HUNDRED ORDERS!! 500!! EXACTLY FIVE HUNDRED!

WAYGH!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!! THATS CRAZY!! Thank you so much!!! This is so much more than I could have ever imagined!! I’m so so happy and grateful for the support!

SO!! What now?

GETTING THE BAGS MADE

It will take about TWO MONTHS to get every bag made, and then they get to be shipped to my house where i will…ship them all out to YOU. Um. Yeah. Nearly 500 bags. in my house. to ship out. one by one. i feel like markiplier with his tasteful calendar years ago. except he had to sign fifty THOUSAND and i’m only packing 500. so. actually it’s nothing like that and i get to SUCK IT UP!!! and look at the calendar in question on my wall for emotional support....please be patient with me while i do this!!! this will take me probably another couple of months just to get every single one out there!! but it will be done!! one day i’ll probably pay like. a fulfillment center? to do this for me? i’m kinda new to this. if that wasn’t super obvious… and then, after that…

Some changes moving forward:

PRICE INCREASE

Boo sound effect, tomatos, i know. But i got such overwhelming support for this project that um…well, i have to pay taxes on it! Essentially this became my real life job in a very short amount of time! I have to make myself an LLC now?!? I’m incredibly grateful for the support, but this does mean I need to make sure I can actually afford to keep doing this. or else the IRS will fucking GET ME. Like seriously. It could get really messy really fast. I have to pay taxes all by myself now. And this means a slight price increase for future editions of the bag. The base price will increase from $40 to $50! Shipping will stay the same. This does not come without some slight upgrades, though!

BAG UPGRADES

The strap is going to be longer in future editions (by what measurement i’m not sure yet- i will do some experimenting and figure out an ideal length!) and I will also see if I can order straps separately so that any Pink and Purple bag owners who would like an even longer strap can buy an extra one without having to buy a new bag! The bag strap length is okay right now, but I got quite a few requests to make them even longer- so I will do so!!

The inside pocket will be slightly modified to be looser fabric instead of the super tight zipper pocket. Can’t fit much in there. It will hopefully still have a zipper, though! I’ll workshop this a bit before I do the next batch!

If anyone has any more suggestions for future batches of the bag, please do let me know! If it’s within my (and the manufacturer’s) power to do, I definitely want to try!!

NEXT BATCH?

The next batch will be YELLOW and BLUE!! Hash fans unite!! You got your poll win eventually!! After yellow and blue, I’m planning some funky ones! Black, and…well. something else!! i’ll come up with one to go with it!

The black ones are pretty fuckin cool, and I can’t wait to show you all! I have two ideas for Black bags that i simply cannot decide between so i’ll probably have to put it up for a vote next summer!!

Okay, that’s all for announcements today!! Thank you all so, so, SO much for the support, and thank you in advance for your patience!!

WHERE DOIN THIS MAN… WHEre makin this hapen :)

#funtime speaks #captchalogue card bag #homestuck

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slut4hee · 5 days ago

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1-800 PHONE A HOE📞 ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

{Paring: Idol Jaehyun x Sex Worker Blk Fem! Reader

{Genre: smut, just jaehyun breaking the bank for that good kitty 🐱💓

{Synopsis: All jaehyun wanted to do was relieve his pent up stress and desire, so what better than calling up his favorite little play thing.

{Warnings: Big dick Jaehyun, desperate Jae rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it, before you tap it), oral (f&m receiving), , multiple orgasms, creampie, squirting, dirty talk, degradation, breeding kink, cum eating, daddy kink. Let me know if I skipped anything:)

Jaehyun bowed, as he thanked the producer and the camera crew, as they wrapped up the video shoot for his new music video. Jaehyun couldn’t be happier that it was finally over, and now he can focus on his very hard problem, that problem being his raging boner that he’s been hiding all day from his staff members.

All he wanted to do was fuck some good pussy and get the best nut of his life, and he happen to know someone that would get the job done real good, and some more. Jaehyun remembers it like it was yesterday, when he first met you. Him, Johnny, and Taeyong had went to a strip club in L.A, just looking to have a good time, have some drinks, and possibly take a beautiful girl home. You were one of the top strippers at the nightclub, swirling effortlessly around the pole, light on your toes as you made it clap nicely in front of all the horny men in the club.

It was your aura, your beauty, and the sex appeal you let off in the air was so addicting, and Jaehyun wanted it all. His knees almost gave out when you made eye contact with him, grinding your curvy body against the pole as you eye fucked the shit out of him. Not long after you came over to his section, introducing yourself and asking if he would like a private lap dance in the vip lounge. Of course he accepted the offer with no hesitation, breaking you off with a $500 tip, and taking you back to his hotel room where he railed the fuck outta you.

Since that day forward, Jaehyun couldn’t get you out of his head, sure he had other hoes on his line down to fuck whenever but they weren’t you. Only you could make him cum so hard, only you had him whining like a bitch when you sucked on his heavy balls, and stroked his hard cock till he came on your face. To say Jaehyun was happy as hell, when his request to film his music video in L.A was accepted he fucking was. Only thing on his mind was seeing you again and fucking your tight wet cunt.

ミ★

Finally he was free, his personal driver dropping him off at his private accommodation. He was so fucking hard, and sexually frustrated it didn’t make any sense. He groaned as he plopped down on his king size bed, the friction from his jeans rubbing against his stiff hard on causing a little shock of pleasure through his body. He needed to fuck asap, so he hurriedly fished his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts to find your number. He had you saved as “Pink💗” being that it was your stage name and he couldn’t raise any suspicion.

He took a deep breath before typing out his messages and sending it to you, he just hope he doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, or worse you don’t remember him.

Jaehyun: HI 👋 don’t know if you remember me, but we met at the club a few months back uhh we kinda fucked😅…

Jaehyun felt like an idiot, his stomach turning with nervousness and he suddenly feels like he’s made a big fool out of himself. He thinks to himself, you probably fuck plenty of guys, like hell is he special enough for you to remember a stranger you fucked two months ago but you did.. His heart dropped when his phone dinged with a reply from you.

Pink💗: Of course I remember you, that dick was too fucking good not to😏

He felt his cock twitch in the confines of his boxers, beads of pre cum dripping from his slit, staining his boxers.

Jaehyun: Fuck really?😩 figured you forgotten about me since that day. Being that you didn’t text me, even though you gave me your number👀

Pink💗: 😭 I don’t chase no man honey boo, I like for the men to chase me 🤭

Jaehyun: Well shit baby, I’m chasing and I’m currently in LA so was wondering maybe you wanted to slide to my crib?👀😏

Pink💗: Depends baby, how much you tryna spend on this pussy🫦🐱 you know I’m expensive daddy

Jaehyun: $1k? $2k? Name your price baby I’m willing to spend however much to get inside that sweet little pussy of yours angel😅

Jaehyun: I’ll make it $3k if you wear that pink little skimpy lingerie you wore on the first day we met, and if you let me nut inside you 😩🙏🏽😅

Pink💗: Send the addy💋

Jaehyun: *Sends Address*

ミ★

After he sent you the address, he went and took a quick shower, making sure he smelled nice and clean before laying a fingertip on you. He decided there was no need to dress up, being that his clothes wasn’t going to be staying on long anyways. He decided on a white tank, gray Nike shorts, and his freshly washed hair falling nicely down his face.

Not long after the doorbell rang, he tried to keep his composure playing it cool as he opened up the front door. His breath hitched, and the air being knocked out of his lungs as he takes in the sight of you clad in a baby pink robe, your long blonde bust down frontal flowing nicely down your back, and of course your gorgeous face making him feel hot all over. You smirked at his flustered state, it was just something about a fine ass man like Jaehyun being all desperate for a bad bitch like you that turned you on to the max.

Without exchanging any words, you grabbed his hand leading him up to his bedroom, you pushed the door open, and dragged him to the bed pushing him down on it. He nearly whimpered and you went to straddle him, kissing on his neck and grinding your pussy on his very stiff erection.

“Shit baby girl, that feels so good” he groaned, gripping your waist tighter as he guided your movements of you dry humping him. You bit your lip to conceal the moan that threatens to escape from your mouth.

“Mm did you miss this pussy daddy” you purr, rubbing your hands down his chest, your long acrylics sending a chill down his spine. You stood up from the bed, untying the string of your robe, letting it fall to the floor. Jaehyun literally moans out loud, at the sight of you in that skimpy ass baby pink lingerie set that he loves far too much. You crawl back onto the bed towards him, tugging at his shorts for him to take it off.

He gets the message, lifting his bottom for you to pull his shorts to his ankles. You moaned at the sight of his thick long cock, standing tall and proud angry red tip leaking out pre cum.

“Gonna let me suck your cock baby huh?” You asked, as you stroked his hard length slowly. His hips bucked up, moaning out loud at feeling of your small hand wrapped around his heavy dick.

“Fuck please, please suck my fucking cock” he whined, desperately bucking his hips towards your lips, you chuckled at his desperation before teasing his tip, kitten licking at it while still stroking his shaft a little faster. He lets out a strained groan, grabbing ahold of your hair, as he tries his hardest not to fuck up into your mouth.

“Ohhh my fucking god sugar, please put in your mouth suck on it please” he whimpered, already feeling so sensitive. You obliged, slowly taking him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the base of his cock bobbing your head up and down. He grips the sheets tightly, his fists turning white as he tries to ground himself from busting too quickly.

“Shiittttt, that’s right dirty fucking slut, suck that fucking dick fuck! Nasty little bitch like having a cock in her mouth huh” he grunts deeply, his degrading words turning you on to the max, if it were anyone else you would have told them off, but it’s just something about the way Jaehyun treats you like a whore that makes your pussy throb and leak through your panties.

“Ah shit! Oh fuck- I-I’m c-close I’m so fucking close” he whimpered, when he you started to bob your head faster, giving him the sloppiest, nastiest, wettest head of his life. Spit drips down from the corner of your mouth, your eyes tearing up as you deep throat as much of his dick as you can, looking up at him with your innocent little eyes.

“AHGHH FUCK I’m gonna cum, gonna let me paint your pretty little face white huh mama?” You hummed in agreement at his desperate request, the vibration of you moaning around his cock, sends a shock wave of pleasure through his body. After a couple of more thrusts inside your throat, he’s letting out a guttural whine, as he pulled his dick out cumming all over your face and tongue.

He falls back onto the mattress, chest heaving up and down, and his breathing is uneven as he tries to calm himself down from the intense orgasm he just had. You chuckled at his fucked out expression, climbing back on top of him, as you start to kiss on his neck again and rub your hands all over his abs. You yelped as he suddenly flipped you over, spreading your legs and staring at your wet pussy.

“Fuck you gonna let daddy eat this sweet cunt?” He smirked, putting his face into your pussy sniffing and rubbing his thumb against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You whined, desperately bucking your hips, the feeling of his thumb rubbing against your clit being a little too overwhelming for you.

“Yes daddy please eat my pretty little pussy, wanna feel your tongue deep inside me” you moaned out, rubbing your hand through his hair. He pulled your panties to the side, cursing under his breath when a string of your sticky arousal clings to your baby pink thong. Jaehyun licks his lips before diving into your pussy, licking and sucking on your clit.

Your legs are shaking, you’re pulling on his locks like crazy, and you’re desperately grinding your pussy on his face getting lost in the feeling of his tongue and soft lips working wonders on you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. Jaehyun was eating your pussy, like it was his last meal on earth, fucking his tongue into your tight hole, swirling it all around. A couple more flicks and sucks to your puffy clit, has you creaming all over his face.

“Goddamn you a munch, shit ate that kitty so good baby boy” you breathed out, legs still shaking from your intense high. Before you could even catch your breath, Jaehyun is coming on top of you spreading your legs wide and binding them together. He literally folds you in half before sinking his thick cock inside your tight wet pussy. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, his big fat cock filling you up to the hilt.

“Oh fuck Jae, so fucking big, yes gimme that fucking dick” you clawed at his back scratching him up and holding on to him tight, as he sets a brutal pace fucking into you so roughly, the headboard of the bed slams against the wall.

“Fuuuuck, tight little cunt squeezing the fuck outta me baby I can barely move” he moaned loudly, his thrusts growing more desperate, you whined when he hit that spot inside your gummy warm walls, making your eyes roll to back of your head as you feel your 2nd orgasm of the night approaching you.

“Nghhh shit Jae, don’t stop fucking me please want your big load inside me” you begged shamelessly for his cum, your legs feeling numb and the feeling of his thick cock drilling your tight walls has you seeing stars. He puts his big strong hand around your neck, choking you as he pounded into you like you were nothing but a fucktoy.

“OMMFF damn baby you gonna milk this cock, gonna let me fill this pussy up with my cum” he whined, his strokes grew erratic, desperately chasing his high as he fucked you like his life depended on it. You cried out as your climax hit you like a tidal wave, creaming and squirting all over his dick. The clenching of your tight spent pussy sends Jaehyun into a frenzy, his high approaching rapidly.

“AGHHHH I’m gonna stuff you full of my cum right now baby, gonna plug you up full of my milk precious darling” he delivers a couple more harsh strokes to your throbbing spent cunt before letting out a guttural grunt, cumming deep inside your womb. Your shivered at the feeling of his hot cum flooding your insides, you couldn’t think of a better feeling than getting creampied.

He collapsed on the other side of you, both of you trying to calm down from your intense highs. You smiled weakly at him before laying your head on his chest. It was times like this with Jaehyun that genuinely fucked with your head. You wouldn’t admit but honestly you were falling for Jaehyun. It was the way he made you feel in bed, even though he fucked you like a rag doll he still always made sure you were comfortable and feeling good.

Your thoughts was interrupted, when Jaehyun got up from the bed, his naked body on full display, you bit your lip at the sight of bare ass. Jaehyun grabbed his phone, opening cash app and sending you the $3k he promised. Your phone buzzed out of nowhere, you weakly grabbed your phone from the night stand, seeing the notification from cash app that $3k was deposited into your account.

Then realty hit you, Jaehyun will never see you as anything more than a guaranteed booty call, a hoe on speed dial. You swallowed the lump that started to form in your throat, trying your best to ignore the ache in your chest. Jaehyun got back into the bed, pulling you close to him as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Not long after he drifted off to sleep, leaving you lost in your thoughts.

Just like the first night you guys slept together, you woke up to no sign of Jaehyun but a letter resting on the night stand with a glass of orange juice and breakfast. The letter states the same exact words he said to you the morning you guys first slept together

“𝗦𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱. 𝗣𝗹𝘂𝘀 𝗜’𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝗦𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗵 𝗞𝗼𝗿𝗲𝗮 𝘁𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝘆 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗯𝘆𝗲𝘀, 𝗜’𝗹𝗹 𝗵𝗶𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘂𝗽 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗶’𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝗟.𝗔 𝗼𝗿 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗞𝗼𝗿𝗲𝗮 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹”

𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝐽𝑎𝑒ℎ𝑦𝑢𝑛.

Tears start to form in your eyes but you quickly wiped them away, you really fooled yourself thinking that Jaehyun would see you more than just a hookup, more than just a stripper and a sex worker. You put on your big girl pants and got your shit and left his place not looking back. You don’t know when you see Jaehyun again, but when the time comes you will always be ready to serve him, because that’s what hoes do.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙀𝙣𝙙…

A/n: Omg my first ever non enha ff🤭 so I know this is not super good bc honestly this is one of my lazy works like I did not even put too much effort into this one😅. But FAWKK I need Jaehyun so bad like! I hope you guys like it and don’t be shy to reblog and leave comments, also this is not proofread🫣

Perm Taglist ୨ৎ

—————————————————————————

@i03jae @ataver

#nct 127 #smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct x reader #nct x black reader #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct jaehyun smut #slut4heetedtalks #slut4heemasterlist #slut4heeworks #slut4heeupdates #slut4hee #feeling slutty #i want to fuck him

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wordsofhoneydew · 7 months ago

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fic rec time!! lfg

here i compiled a list of 11 amazing fics under 500 kudos!! you have angst, smut, fluff, pinging, grief, hurt/comfort. you fucking name it, it’s here.

happy reading!

Invisible by @nocoastposts [100, G]

For the Brownstone Discord Server's weekly drabble prompt "invisible".

Total Eclipse by @myheartalivewrites [1k, T]

Alex is not sure what the fuck is happening here.

“And if you only hold me tight…”

A man—probably the most beautiful man he has ever seen—is up on stage in this karaoke bar, absolutely murdering Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse of the Heart and he’s pretty sure the guy is crying and it’s one of the most horrifying things he’s ever seen and Alex cannot. Look. Away.

Be Mine (And Be Yourself) by @itsmaybitheway [9k, E]

It starts with a misunderstanding, the way it always does with them.

Early on in their relationship, when there wasn’t even a relationship to speak of, the misunderstandings used to feed the animosity.

Then they’ve turned into something softer when their relationship turned into something softer. Purposefully misunderstanding each other just to take a jab, messing around for the fun of it or turning an innocent comment into a filthy innuendo and watching the other squirm.

But this? Oh a misunderstanding has never been this delicious, this appetizing. This one feels like the door to fucking sexy Narnia and Alex can not wait to eat those delicious Turkish delights

OR Henry just wants to be Alex's pretty little princess and Alex will make sure he gets his wish! AKA my Valentine's Day fic with housewife!Henry

it's so hard to get to heaven with my head in my hands by @anincompletelist [6k, M]

His mother would have a fit if she could see him now, taking comfort he isn’t owed from men he shouldn’t want it from. But Henry wipes his tears with the back of his hand and Alex begins singing the dulcet tune of a Spanish lullaby and George feels, perhaps for the first time in his life, like he belongs.

the tragic flaw is that they hide the truth (that you’re enough, you’re enough) by srrafoxjournals [6k, NR]

Alex has been staring.

For weeks now, actually.

Henry had originally chalked it up to Alex being, well, Alex. But lately, Henry can’t help but take it in as more than just his boyfriend's usual oddness.

Or: After gaining some weight, Henry feels self conscious. Alex however, loves his tummy.

blurred lines. by seafloor [5k, E]

Henry is a lovesick writer; Alexander a charismatic bartender. They’re still fated to fall into bed at some point.

I will/I will/We will by @tintagel-or-cockleshells [6k, T]

Alex's wedding planning business is going from strength to strength, but if he never has another wedding at Mountchristen Manor it will be too soon. He just can't get along with Henry, the venue coordinator, and the feeling is mutual. But when push comes to shove, the couple's big day has to come first.

I’ll be with him again soon by mymistakesweremade4u [3k, T]

It's sometime in mid-January, just a couple of months shy of his 95th birthday, when Henry finds himself surrounded by family in his and Alex's bedroom.

Or, Alex and Henry grew old together.

beg you on my knees (to stay) by @littlemisskittentoes [13k, E]

“Up.” Henry keeps the tone low. Controlled.

Alex is often frantic to follow commands, his limbs falling over themselves in his haste to obey. There’s no sign of that rushed need now. He takes his time, unfolding himself leisurely.

“You’re bold,” Henry monotones. He takes calculated steps forward, punctuating each slow stride with the unbutton and roll of his shirt sleeves. “I’ll give you that.”

“You’re only now realizing? Thought you were brighter than that, baby.”

keep me up all night / i wanna scratch your surface by @firenati0n [1k, M]

They step inside, greeted by moonlight streaming through the windows, illuminating their living room in a dreamy light; it’s enough to see outlines and shapes, enough to keep everything just a little bit secretive, a little softer around the edges.

Henry moves his hand to flick on the kitchen light, and Alex’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist. Henry looks down at him questioningly, blue eyes sparkling even with the absence of light. Alex always feels a little off-kilter around him, Henry both his center of gravity and his reason for vertigo. He’s stabilizing, and dizzying, and everything.

Alex’s thumb and index finger circle Henry’s slender wrist, exerting the slightest pressure. He feels Henry's pulse jump under his thumb.

“Get on the couch.”

don’t let me get drunk again by @getmehighonmagic [3k, E]

Alex had never wanted to cancel plans as much as he had while watching Henry pull a pair of light wash, tight jeans over his stockinged legs and bare ass.

Christ, he’s getting hard thinking about it now.

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shootingstarwritings · 1 year ago

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"Hey bro, how does a crew battle work...?"

Hey, it's me again! The name's James. Last time we checked up like this, I hopped my roommate's body so he'd get better at fighting games. His name's Korrin, but he prefers Kor.

I gotta admit, these powers were a pretty sweet deal. He suddenly had a brand new genre to enjoy and I got to play with his body every once in a while. Seemed like a win-win, right?

Well, we got caught up talking just a bit too much shit during one of the weeklies. Think I ended up messing with my roommate's personality a bit too much while I was jerking off as him. He was far cockier than before I started taking over.

"Yeah, that's right. $500 crew battle," said Kor, flexing his muscles through the tight t-shirt I had mind-fucked him into preferring to wear. "Me and James could beat the shit outta everyone in this venue. Easy."

I wrapped an arm around his shoulder, saying, "Chill the hell out before you spend all our rent money," through clenched teeth. In response, he leaned over and gave me a deep kiss before talking more shit.

We didn't have to play everyone in the venue, but now we were stuck in a 4v4 crew battle; and Kor had successfully pissed off just about everyone who was a regular. We had two weeks to find two other guys to fill out our team or we'd be going hungry for the next month.

The ride home was quiet, although Kor didn’t seem to mind. He stared straight ahead, one hand on the steering wheel while another was on my thigh. Occasionally, he would squeeze while smiling at me. The way his eyes lit up whenever we were together dazzled me. I couldn’t stay mad at him, especially when it was my fault he was the way he was.

"Aww, don’tcha worry," said Kor as he massaged my shoulders, another trait I had bestowed him. My bed was a bit small for the two of us, and Kor had often wondered out loud if we could fit a queen sized bed in my room. “I’m sure we’ll find some guys. Even if they’re dead weight, you and me can wipe the floor with everyone there.” Before I could say anything, he leaned over and kiss my neck. I shivered, toes curling as he greedily licked one of my more sensitive spots.

After I let out a few… unbecoming moans, Kor pulled away and tittered. “Love making you cry out like that,” he said in a sensual tone. “Well, good night. Gotta get to the gym early tomorrow.”

As the door to his room shut close, I stared up at the ceiling and sighed. I had a few other friends that liked games, but they had no interested in fighting games like me. Of course, that had never stopped me before…

Two weeks should be enough time to make two pros, right?

The first guy on my list was Jason. He was a buddy of mine that I met in college. Smart, kind, and eager to show off the gains he'd made at the gym. "I spent three years to get this bod," he had bragged to me, showing off his toned and sweaty torso. Even so, he still enjoyed playing games, particularly RPGs. He was always throwing one my way or another--with tons of fan translations and cryptic guides as well.

I'd have to play one of them to completion one of these days to thank him for the service he was about to provide.

The night after Kor made his bet, I made my move. I locked my door and focused on flying. My body slowly lost its weight, density, and then mass in general. Skin peeled away and disappeared into dust, waiting for the chance to reform once my mission was complete. Organs twisted into neat little knots that blinked out of existence. My bones ground up against each other before vanishing.

It was only during those few precious moments that my soul was free. I sailed through the sky, unable to feel the wind on my face yet elated all the same. The moon was so close to my fingertips that it felt unfair that I couldn't grasp it. However, I knew exactly what I could grip instead.

I phased through Jason's apartment with little issue and found himself soon afterward. He was playing a battle simulator without a shirt on. "It's about a 73% to one-hit KO," he muttered to himself as he clicked through an innumerable amount of tabs. I knew for a fact some of them were months old and untouched for just as long.

Probably another habit I’d have to kick, but it was hard to focus on that when I kept focusing on that tight body he had. I would’ve licked my lips of I had any in that form. Not wanting to waste any more time, I hopped into him.

“Hnng…! Ahhh…hah…!” Jason let out a moan, tongue sticking out involuntarily as a shiver of pleasure ran all throughout his body. “Wh-what the fuck—is happening—“ Jason moaned as he turned around and began to hump his seat cushions. “AH! NRGH AAAAAHHHH!” Any words Jason would’ve tried to cry out were soon overpowered by panicked pants of pleasure. His hands, which would’ve normally reached for his phone to call for help, could only play with his chest and sensitive nipples.

My will overpowered his own, but Jason didn’t seem to mind. He kicked off his shoes, socked toes curling up in pleasure, and rubbed his trembling body all over the coach. “I-I…! K-Keep go—OOAHH—Keep going!” He said, panting and laughing the whole time. His back arched once more as he let out a strangled scream while his erect cock spewed semen all over his shorts. Jason, mind drowning in a hurricane of euphoria curtesy of me, collapsed covered in a sweaty, semen-covered mess.

Eventually, I opened my new eyes and felt my chiseled body. “Mmm, oh Jason. Let’s get your hand-eye coordination to my level.” As I began to strip so I could play in the nude, I saw angry DMs from Jason’s opponent.

Smirking, I walked over to the laptop and messaged him back. “Sorry bro, too busy playing games and fucking bussy to play with a pussy like you. GG you win, loser.”

I laughed as I got another stream of profanities from Jason’s old opponent, but I didn’t care. I was covered in sweat, smelling like a real man, while I was playing my favorite game.

Once Jason was done and truly mind-fucked, I had one more person I needed to visit.

#male possession #male body possession #ghost possession #spirit possession #astral projection possession

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modelbus · 2 years ago

Note

hii! for your 500 followers event i was wondering if i could request wilbur with coworkers to lovers and fake dating? congrats on 500 <3

It’s kind of like I just did a part two to the previous request for the event… :D Thank you!!

This is the last request for the event, thank you all for sending in the requests! I really enjoyed doing them all <3

Pairing: Cc!Wilbur x Gn!Reader

Coworkers to Lovers - Fake Dating

“You know, I’m always surprised you still don’t have a special someone.”

You give a tight-lipped smile to Shannon, one of your many cat-lady coworkers. She’s really one to talk, seeing as the closest thing to a boyfriend she has is her cat, Ferdinand.

Really, you’re just trying to go home. Apparently not having a partner to pick you up was a crime in this building.

“I could always set you up with my vet’s son. He’s around your age I think.”

This is the fifth fucking time she’s tried setting you up with the same guy. The first time was nice, just like the first time she bothered you about your dating life. Seven months later? Not so nice.

You didn’t want to be an asshole and make work awkward though, so you just haven’t told her to stop. She’s a cat lady, it shouldn’t bother you so much.

Yet it does.

There’s nobody. Hell, there’s been nobody for years! Your dating life is nonexistent! And for some reason it’s exactly what all your coworkers decide to talk about with you. All of them except Wilbur, thank God.

“No thanks, I-“

“Have a boyfriend.” Wilbur interrupts. A warm weight settles around your shoulders: his stupid trench coat. “Here, I know you forgot your coat.”

You mutely slip it on. It’s definitely his stupid coat, and that was definitely his voice saying those things, so you have to be having a vivid hallucination. There’s no way he just lied and said he was your boyfriend.

“You two are dating?! And you didn’t tell me?!”

Okay, so you’re not hallucinating. You’ve just slipped into an alternate universe.

“We were worried about the fact we work together. Don’t tell, okay?” Wilbur grins, grabbing your hand.

“Oh, I wouldn’t.” Shannon assures you both. “I’m so happy for you two though! Enjoy your walk home!”

“We will. Come on, let’s get you home before it’s too dark out.”

You let Wilbur tug you along, not even remembering to grab your bag until it’s already in Wilbur’s hands. Although you were saved from Shannon, this just didn’t feel real.

He doesn’t let go of your hand until you say something about halfway down the street.

“What the fuck just happened?” You ask.

Wilbur drops your hand but doesn’t return your bag or take back his coat. “I just saved you from Shannon. She’s a bitch sometimes, isn’t she?”

“I mean, yeah, but why’d you pretend to be dating me?”

“To save you.”

He’s acting like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like friends pretend to date each other all the time.

“Wil, you realize we have to keep pretending, right? She’ll know if we suddenly break up after telling her. And not to mention we might get in trouble because we work together!”

It seemed perfectly logical that Wilbur just majorly fucked up.

“It’ll be fine. We can fake break up in a few months or something. That way the cat ladies won’t bug either of us about being single. Nobody but the cat ladies have to know. It’ll be fun!”

You sigh, but not being harassed by the cat ladies would be nice. The motion of your rising and falling shoulders makes you remember the coat you still have on.

"Oh, sorry, I still have your coat-"

"Keep it on. Your dumbass will catch a cold."

Hurtful but true, you keep the coat on.

“You know she’s going to tell everyone?” You ask, referring to Shannon.

“Oh absolutely.”

"Hey, love. Did you like the flowers?" Wilbur's grinning when he asks it, and you're tempted to tell him no. Just to see what would happen. But he already knows you like the flowers he left on your desk because they were your favorite.

"Of course." You answer instead.

Three months. That's how long you've been pretending to date Wilbur and that's how long he's been doing things like this. From having flowers delivered to your desk to sneaking in your favorite dessert, he's been making you fall in love with him for too long.

How were you meant to keep your feeling platonic when he did things like this? Just seeing the flowers on your desk this morning made your heart leap, knowing they were from him.

Oh, and the nicknames. You nearly died the first time he used them, a casual "darling" slid into his sentence. Now you were too used to hearing them come from his mouth. Fuck, you even liked them!

"Don't forget we're going to dinner tonight. I'll be at your house at eight." He reminds you. From behind him, Shannon gives you a thumbs up.

"I know, I know."

He wouldn't actually be there. This was simply for show, just like all the other things he did. It didn't matter if he kept holding your hand far out of view from the building, or if his little pet names persisted even out of earshot from others. Dating Wilbur was fake.

"You're hovering." You finally say, raising your eyebrows at him.

He gives a sheepish smile. For the first time since you two started... whatever this was, he had to work overtime. You were walking home completely and utterly alone.

"I called you an Uber." Wilbur admits.

"Wil!"

"I know you said you didn't want one! I was just worried about you walking home alone!"

He smiles and you sigh. “Fine, I’ll take advantage of the fact you’ve already paid.”

“Of course you will. Be ready. Eight. Don’t forget.”

“I’m not going to forget!”

At exactly eight o’clock, someone knocks on your door. You’re in lounge clothes, settling down to watch a movie or something for the rest of the night. It's probably the postman or someone normal, so you don't bother to see who it is before opening the door.

Big mistake.

"You forgot." Wilbur deadpans, and you gape at him in surprise.

Not because you forgot about your "date" tonight. No, you definitely remembered it. You just didn't think he'd actually take you on one. After all, your relationship was purely fictional for the office ladies only.

"I didn't forget." You protest. It doesn't matter if it's the truth because he definitely doesn't believe you.

His eyes flicker over your clothes. "Go get dressed. Fancy."

It's only then that you realize what he's wearing. A suit, striking black standing out against the white shirt. He looks better than good, which makes your heart flutter.

"Okay, okay. Come in, I'll try to be fast."

He steps in while you hurry to get changed. Keeping true to your word you just throw on your best clothes, not bothering to style your hair or worry about anything else. Thank God you quite liked your natural hair.

"Wil, could you grab my shoes for me? By the door, the black ones." You call out, slipping on the socks to go with them.

"These ones?" He asks, holding them up when you walk out. His mouth parts slightly at the sight of you. "Wow. You- um, you look good."

"I'd look better if I had more time." You joke.

"Not possible. You looking better, not the time. Not to say you can't look better if you wanted to- I mean, you look great right now-" He keeps backtracking, face steadily getting redder with each word.

"Wilbur?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Okay."

He hands you your shoes, and you slip them on. You haven't worn them in what feels like forever: they just sat by your door, collecting dust. In your defense, you haven't exactly had a reason to wear them.

"So why are we going out on a date?" You ask.

"What do you mean? I literally told you I was taking you on one." Wilbur runs a hand through his hair, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You're also confused here.

"But why? We're fake dating at work."

Understanding dawns on his face, and he suddenly looks sheepish.

"That's kind of why. I- I wanted to take you on a real date. Away from work, so you know it wasn't pretend."

What could you ever say to that? His words seem straightforward, but you're certain there's a trick in them. The date might not be pretend, but his feelings were. That's all that he means, right?

Hope was too dangerous of a thing for you to have now, after all this time.

He must read something in your face, because he's suddenly sweeping his arms wide in a grand gesture. You're too startled to even get a word in before he starts talking, but maybe that's for the better.

"Will you do me the honor of going on this very real date with me? I have very real feelings for you, and a very cowardly heart."

"A very cowardly heart, huh?" You ask, raising your eyebrows.

"I spoke before I thought when I told Shannon we were dating. That night I swore to myself I'd finally ask you out, but I fucked it up and jumped a few steps ahead."

Finally, you laugh. That definitely sounded like a Wilbur thing to do. But most importantly, he said his feelings towards you were real. Romantic feelings. Feelings you've felt for so long that you can't keep them in with his confession.

"I will." You answer.

Now he's the only one confused. "What?"

"I'll go on a date with you. A real one."

He breaks into the biggest grin you've ever seen him wear, and he's shown you a ton of cute animal videos. It's infectious, making you smile right along with him.

"Well then." He holds out his arm, and you take it. "Let's get to this date."

#wilbur x you #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot #mcyt #mcyt imagine #wilbur mcyt #wilbur dsmp #dsmp #dsmp imagine #mcyt wilbur

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onthewaytosomewhere · 6 months ago

Note

MELLLLLZ! :) i come with a couple if you don't mind (heheheeh)

first I will take 9-1-1 for 500 plz! <3 #8 Leather Jacket (BuckTommy)

Then RWRB #4 Ducky Tie.... cause come onnnnnnn <3

:) :) :)

alright so my first 911 ficlet is here just for ya becz!!!

Evan Buckley is sure of one thing at this moment: Tommy, in the battered leather jacket he is wearing, is one of the hottest things he has seen. The way it strains across his shoulders, pulling tight across his biceps, open in the front, revealing the very thin tank top he has on underneath, is driving him mad. The chest hair peaking over the front of the tank top makes him want to drag Tommy back to his place and get him out of said clothing. Of course, they have at least another hour before he can do anything even remotely like that. So, in the meantime, he’s sitting out here in Bobby and Athena’s backyard, watching Tommy fit in with everyone. Of course, Tommy knew some of them before Buck ever did, but he can’t get over how well his boyfriend, and god does he love saying that, fits in with his 118-family. He knows they’ve appeared to like some of the women he’s been involved with, but he’s never had the feeling any of them could ever really be a part of all of this. “Buck, if you keep it up, we’ll all be swimming in your drool, and I’d appreciate not dealing with that,” Eddie whispers in his ear, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Haha,” he snaps back, not the most original comeback, of course, but he’s still, a little bit at least, thinking about what is under that leather jacket. Conversation with Eddie and later Christopher as well keeps him from getting too distracted. Still, it’s not long before Tommy is standing in front of him, and Evan is dragging his eyes up his torso, thinking once again about that damn leather jacket and how good it looks on him. At this point, he’s really contemplating making him leave it on while he makes use of his newly-discovered lack of a gag reflex and blow him as soon as he gets him home. Evan has always loved blowjobs but didn’t think that he would be as into giving them as he is receiving them. He remembers hearing women in the past talk about the power trip it can be, making someone fall apart with just your mouth and hands, controlling when and how they get off. He, of course, has never had a problem getting any of the women he’s been with off with his mouth, even been told how talented he is in that regard. When he discovered that talent carries over to his newfound fascination with Tommy’s dick, he finally understood what they all meant. Something about the feel of a hard cock on his tongue as he works to get Tommy off, sometimes getting himself off as well, is one of the most liberating and powerful feelings he’s had regarding sex in a long time. They eventually make their rounds, and Evan gets them to his place; the door is barely closed when he has Tommy against it and is having his way with him. He’s been thinking about this so long he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to make it last. Not nearly as long as he usually does, but he figures that he’ll just remedy that when they eventually get to the bedroom.

and here's the RWRB one too luv 💚

This moment has been in the works for two months now; Martha sees the ties in some magazine and finds out they are available from a Crown-approved Fashion House. She not-so-subtlely drops the idea to Alex, and from there, they roll with it. Alex works his magic to get Henry to wear the tie for the event, and Martha promises to do the same on her end with Philip. Alex prefers not to think about what methods she may employ to make that happen, especially since he knows exactly how he convinced Henry, and it involved a lot of sex and getting him to agree to it in his blissed-out post-coital state. He has grown to love Martha like a sister, a thing that shocks nearly everyone. They discover some common ground, and well, apparently, Martha always wanted to be a big sister, so Alex just figures he got two of them when he got Henry – Martha and Bea. No amount of love he feels for her, however, makes him want to think about her employing any kind of similar methods to what he did. They’re all gathered, and everyone has taken their pictures of Henry and Philip in the matching ties, enjoying the moment of family togetherness before they are required to put on a show. That’s the moment Martha picks to put the part of the plan she didn’t share with Alex into motion. She is apparently not above using her own child to get her way, and Alex has to marvel at how funny it is that he didn’t see this coming. Standing in front of where he sits on the sofa next to Henry is Martha and Philip’s oldest, and she’s looking at Alex with puppy dog eyes that could get him to do anything really. “Uncle Alex,” Martha’s pulled out the big guns, it seems, as she knows how much it gets him when he’s called that. “Mum, got a tie for you too, so you can match Uncle Hen and Dad. Will you wear it?” He glances across at Martha and sees her chatting with Bea, acting as if she’s unaware of what is happening, but the smirk on her lips tells a different story. Alex knows he will end up wearing this ducky tie, so he gracefully accepts his defeat. “Of course I will. Do you think I will look as good as Uncle Hen does?” She leans forward as if she is sharing something secretive she doesn’t want anyone else to hear: “I think you’ll look the best, Uncle Alex, but don’t tell anyone else,” she says with all the solemnity she can manage at just five years old. If Alex hadn’t already made the decision to wear the tie, he knows the way her lip wobbles just a little would have convinced him. The pictures of that day will show all three men in matching ties, talk about how adorable the ties are, and will be great press for the fashion house Martha got them from. The press will talk about mending fences and all kinds of things they really only think they know about, but those ties do help solidify a bond that is already stronger than it ever was. Alex, when he is putting Philip and Martha’s oldest to bed, upon request of the young princess herself, just barely avoids tears when she tells him how much she loves him and that she’s right. He did look the best in the tie.

hope ya like them luv 💚

#ficlet friday #911 ficlet #bucktommy #holy shit i wrote my first 911 fic thing #rwrb fic #firstprince #and cute adorable munchkins #i really kinda luv an alex and martha friendship #was too lazy to name pip and martha's kids so they're nameless lolz #hope ya like luv

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sabraeal · 11 months ago

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If the Mind Is Willing, Chapter 5

[Read on AO3]

Written for @bubblesthemonsterartist, who long ago won the top prize of my 500 Followers raffle way back in 2018. These were all supposed to be done in the few months I had before I gave birth to my second son...who is now less than two months away from his fifth birthday. And in a few weeks, I will be posting the beginning of my 1000 Followers celebration. So you know. Better late than never

His fingers flex before they settle on the keyboard, a cacophony of cracks that would set his mother’s teeth on edge if she heard them. Not that she’d scold him; oh no, Yamazaki would just find a new bottle on his desk after school, some brown glass container— not plastic, never plastic; things like that were made from oil and oil has chemicals, and no matter how often he explain that all things are made of chemicals, even her all-natural essential oils, it would never take— that would say ‘Susu’s Supplements’ complete with a smiling face. Nearly four years out of the house and his shoulders twitch just thinking about it, ready to hike up around his ears at the first whisper of homeopathy.

Instead, Yamazaki rotates them, points angling from inward to outward, forcing his shoulders square and spine straight. Head over heart, heart over pelvis. A straight line from crown to coccyx. Already the muscles ache, longing to hunch— too many hours at a screen, his mother would say, we’re meant to hunt and gather, not hunt and peck. Lips pressed tight, he tilts his head, popping his neck for good measure. One side, then the other. There’s an order to these things, a ritual, and he’s in no mood to rush himself.

But he’s fast running out of joins to crack, excuses wearing thin as he twists his spine, then flexes his feet. A few satisfying pops press them flat to the floor, and he bites the bullet: inbox open, his outstanding draft unfurls across the screen.

Re: Re: Re: Final Grades Deadline, the subject line reads, and with delicate precision, Yamazaki types: Dr. Matsumoto, I hope you are enjoying your time back in Japan with your family, however—

Orange flashes at the corner of his eye. It’s the messenger, wedged tight between tabs on his task bar. Out of the way. Easy enough to ignore.

—however, it’s come to my attention that—

It’s silent, that’s the problem. Just a block of color that won’t go away until he clicks it. And a small 1 in the corner of it, letting him know it’s a direct message. That someone is looking specifically for him. And it won’t go away, not until he pays it some sort of attention.

—that there are still students for whom grades have not yet been—

Not that he has to. If it was urgent, if he was needed, anyone with that information could simply call him. This email, however, is time sensitive. Time oversensitive, if he really thinks about it. Which he’s trying to not, if only so he can finish it.

—not yet been finalized with administration. If there are any changes you would like to make, tomorrow is the last time to—

He could swear it’s flashing now, the number flicking up to 2, then 3. Like message after message is careening into his DMs, a pileup of personal correspondence he’ll only be able to sort through the wreckage of if this takes any longer.

—tomorrow is the last time to submit electronically. Anything after that will have to be manually changed by—

It’s a trick of the eye, an illusion of increased frequency. It blinks at the same rate for one message as it does for one hundred. His palms break out into a sweat. It would be so easy for 3 to flip to 4, for 4 to suddenly become 9+, and he’ll never know just how many messages are waiting for him, how many people are waiting for him until he finishes this damned email.

—stopping by the administration office in-person. Please let me know if you need any assistance with the electronic submissions.

Relief bows him over the keyboard, and with a quick flourish, he tacks on, Best, Yamazaki.

One last click sends the message on its way, that particular problem no longer his responsibility— until Dr Matsumoto inevitably makes it his— and he turns his attention down to the current object of his ire. The application flicks open, and—

[Saito.Hajime] Souji has sent me a number of Direct Messages regarding the creation of his character for our upcoming roleplaying event I thought you should be made aware

“Oh,” Yamazaki mutters, tension already flooding his shoulders. “Come on.”

[Susumu Yamazaki] Oh? Is that so? Color me surprised. Just what did he want to inquire about? Perhaps whatever character concept would be personally inconvenient for me to have to deal with on short notice? Maybe he’d like to be the emperor? Or a lizard person? A lizard-person emperor?

[Saito.Hajime] I do not believe his is taking into account your level of discomfort Though he did inquire about the non-human options open to him

[Susumu Yamazaki] Of course he did.

[Saito.Hajime] Also, I do not think the Zokujin are available as a player race Not in the current edition of the rules

[Susumu Yamazaki] No. They’re not.

[Saito.Hajime] However I did take the liberty of discouraging him from looking further into the Kitsune Impersonator school

Yamazaki grinds the heels of his palms over his eyes, fireworks splaying across the dark. The last thing he needs is letting Okita loose in a room full of roleplayers extremely sensitive to ridicule with a skill called ‘Fanning the Flames’.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Good. I would like to be invited back to the next event. So what does he want? There has to be some catch. There’s no way he’d be happy creating a character using just the core rules.

[Saito.Hajime] He asked if it was possible to acquire some information on his clan of choice There was not much present in the books we made available during character creation

[Susumu Yamazaki] 1) How would he know? He wasn’t even there? 2) The Player’s Guide has a sufficient overview of all the available Great Clans. Which one could he possibly have trouble finding information on?

[Saito.Hajime] Souji was interested in learning more about specific aspects of the Cat Clan

His teeth grit so hard he can feel the fault lines forming. Tell him, he types, pecking each key with relish, to go fuck himself. Each stroke feels good, feels perfect, up until he hits the backspace.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Leave it to Okita to pull something like this. Cat Clan isn’t even one of the listed options for play in 5th edition! Guy doesn’t even bother to show up to our planned group session, but now he wants to ask us to jump through additional hoops to help him create a character from a niche clan for the *meme*or whatever he’s on about now.

[Saito.Hajime] To know it is even an option means that he at least read the material we provided That conveys a certain level of personal investment on his part More than I would have expected Souji to show

[Susumu Yamazaki] Really? You don’t think that he just went, ‘I like cats. I think I’ll say I want to be a cat and see whether or not Yamazaki personally loses his shit about it?’

[Saito.Hajime] I think you are ascribing malicious intent where there is only indifference

[Susumu Yamazaki] Thanks. Definitely makes me feel good about all this.

[Saito.Hajime] Souji often masks his interest by attempting to be mocking or feigning disinterest

[Susumu Yamazaki] He’s also the kind of asshole who likes to take advantage of everyone’s better nature and pretend that he’s interested in something they care about, only to turn around and make a fucking joke out of it, like a total sociopath

[Saito.Hajime] If it bothers you to put in a sustained amount of effort to assist him in the event that he is ‘simply fucking around’ then I would be happy to help him on my own I would hate for him to be truly interested and refuse to engage with him over simple skepticism about his motives

[Susumu Yamazaki] Fine. It’s your time. I can’t stop you from wasting it.

[Saito.Hajime] Your concern is appreciated if not entirely warranted

“It’s just…” A hiss whistles through his teeth as his chair swivels, bringing him level with Saito’s level stare. “I don’t know why he’s even bothering to do this when he doesn’t even want to go. The other guys might be forcing him to go for” —to be honest, he’s not really clear on the reason, and at this point, he’s certain the answer will only aggravate him— “bonding purposes, or punishment, or whatever, but I don’t care if he puts in effort. He can feel free to have a bad time, it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

Saito tilts his head, thoughtful. “Is it really so hard to believe that Souji might enjoy the idea of pretending to be someone else, so long as it was in a structured, positive, and judgment-free environment?”

Yamazaki swivels back to his keyboard, mouth pulled thin as he types, Stop trying to make me feel bad for Okita. It’s not going to happen.

Saito glances over at his screen and lets out the smallest, nearly imperceptible sigh.

[Saito.Hajime] I do not expect you to

[Susumu Yamazaki] Am I just supposed to forget that he broke Ibuki’s arm? It wasn’t even a year ago! It’s not like he’s changed!

[Saito.Hajime] You are not often so intractable, but on this subject you do insist on itAnd I respect that you feel that way

He scowls at the screen, pulse throbbing just beneath his collar. I’m not being intractable. If it were anyone but Okita, none of you would even—

Knock. It’s a soft little noise at first, but enough to jar him from his thoughts and set his hands hovering over his keyboard. Knock-knock. Knock?

Okita. That’s who it has to be. Clearly using Saito as his proxy isn’t yielding the results he wants. No, now he’s got to come down and twist the screws himself. Got to saunter on over and drink the annoyance straight from the spigot. Because of course that’s who his evening would choose to shape itself around: the single person in this house he can’t stand. That’s what would make narrative sense, at least.

But as he swivels over to scowl at the door, it occurs to him that Okita might knock, but he wouldn’t bother to wait. He’d try the knob at least, rattling it so hard Yamazaki would hear it even through the noise-canceling on his headphones. But this is tentative, almost a question, and that, that seems more like—

“E-excuse me?” A voice filters through the wood, almost as soft as the knocks. “Y-yamazaki? Are you h—ah, in?”

“Ah…” Saito’s mouth curls at a corner, as close as he comes to a smile, and Yamazaki’s tongue trips over, “Y-yukimura? Is that you?”

“Um, yes! It is!” Her feet shuffle on the carpet, boards groaning with every shift. “Is it…? I mean, would it be okay if I came in?”

“Oh, ah…” He scrambles to his feet, scanning their floor in a desperate scan for contraband. They both keep their sides tidy, clothes in hampers and beds neatly tucked, but it would be just his sort of luck for her to come in and stumble over a pair of yesterday’s boxers. “Yes. Of course. Please.”

Saito’s brows raise as he takes his seat again, less surprised than amused, and Yamazaki has just enough presence of mind to hiss, “Don’t,” before the door slips open, Yukimura hesitantly insinuating herself through the gap. Her eyes fix on the toes of her slippers as if she could will them to stillness.

“Thank you for letting me—oh!” Her gaze flicks up, fluttering when it lands on the other occupant of this room. “Hajime, you’re here too!”

“I can leave,” Saito offers, far too quick. “If you would prefer to be alone.”

“Oh, no, not at all.” Yukimura’s cheeks had already been a pale pink when she shuffled in, but now they veer to a vibrant rose. “Actually, this might be better. Ah, I mean…I think. Not that I had planned to, um…”

It’s…sweet, the way she shuffles; one fluffy slipper scratching fruitlessly at the back of her ankle as she tries to wrangle her intentions into words. Yamazaki could watch her do it for hours, one bashful scratch after the other, but he takes mercy on her instead. “Did you need something, Yukimura?”

“Oh, um, yes!” That gets both feet back on the floor, spine so straight even his aches in sympathy. “It’s…the LARP. I thought we might talk about it, maybe?”

She’s changed her mind, that’s what this is about. After two hours of listening to all of them talk about clans and rings and whether a lion was really Toudou’s fursona, she’s finally realized that it’s just some silly kid’s game. It’s Yukimura, so she’ll dress the reason up, nice enough that even gilt might shine like gold, but that will be the long and short of it: it’s a childish little pretend game, and Yamazaki is a loser for liking it.

“Oh.” Might as well yank this bandaid off before it can bond to the skin. “Sure. Of course. Why don’t you, er…take a seat?”

His hand sweeps out before he completes the crucial mental math needed to know: there’s only two chairs in this room, and him and Saito are sitting in both of them. He jumps to his feet, offer already on his lips, but—

But Yukimura simply smooths her skirt over her thighs, settling down on top of his comforter in a way that is…distracting. To say the least. And it’s not made any better with Saito’s eyes boring into his back.

“Oh, um, is this okay?” Her eyelashes flutter uncertainly, gaze darting from him to the door to his seat and then back again. Enough time to realize he’s staring like some sort of idiot. “If you’d prefer that I move, I don’t mind st—?”

“No! It’s—it’s fine. I wouldn’t even mind if you…” Slept on it. His teeth snap shut around the words. That’s not exactly the sort of suggestion a teaching assistant should be giving a student, even if the class had run its course. “Make yourself at home.”

“Ah…” Her smile stretches thin. “…Thank you.”

Despite the invitation, she’s rigid, a wary little statue perched at the edge of his mattress. Her heels hook on the frame, hands pressed tight over her kneecaps, bent like she’s ready to spring, to hop off at the slightest hint of his displeasure. Gargoyle, Okita might call her, savoring the nasty flavor of the insult— or at least he would until Saito hummed, without a spout for water flow, she’d really only be a grotesque.

But Yukimura isn’t here to emulate architectural features. No, she’s here to let him down gently, even if it seems she could use some assistance doing so.

“Ah, Yukimura…” Yamazaki clears his throat, forcing the bile back down to his stomach, where it belongs. “You know, if you aren’t interested in participating in the event, it’s all right. You won’t be hurting anyone’s feelings.”

The amount of personal disappointment Saito can pack into a single cluck of his tongue would give his mom a run for her money. But if guilt is the target he’s aiming for, Saito misses it by a mile; instead, Yamazaki’s annoyed. Here he is trying to smother the sickening free fall of rejection, not letting a single twitch of it show on his face or the slightest tinge color his tone, and somehow it’s not enough. That somehow by refusing to push her, he’s letting everyone down, and—

“No, that’s not— I don’t mean that at all!” Yukimura waves her hands, as if that alone might clear his misunderstanding. “It’s the opposite. I mean, if there is an…um…opposite for something like this. It’s just…I know what I want to do! But I wanted to talk to you about it first. Oh, ah” —her gaze darts behind him, to where Saito sits— “the two of you, I mean. Since both of you will, um…”

She shrugs, helpless, but Yamazaki can hardly help her. It’s taking all he has to just gape, to parse that not only does she want to come with them, but she has a…a concept. A character she wants to play, one that’s complicated enough she wants his input, and he’ll look stupid if he pinches himself, but that’s the only way he could possibly prove he’s awake.

So it’s Saito that chimes in with, “Of course, Yukimura. We would be happy to provide whatever assistance you need.”

“Oh, really?” She perks where she’s perched, mouth as round as her eyes. “That’s…good! Great, even.”

“So, what are you thinking?” It’s a struggle to keep his excitement from tugging on his words, dragging them out of his register like an overeager puppy. “I know you hadn’t made up your mind when we were all working on characters, so—”

“Ah, actually…” Her shoulders round, barely obscuring the shy pink spread over her cheeks. “I, er, sort of knew what I wanted to do then, but I just…I thought that maybe it wouldn’t be okay? So I tried to come up with something else, but…”

But this is what she wants to do. What she really wants, because she has an opinion about it. She cares what she plays. It’s terrible how much he likes that about her.

“Anything you want would be fine,” he rushes to assure her, too breathless. “There’s very few things that aren’t allowed.”

At least, things Yukimura might think to do. When Saito finally strong-arms him into give the same talk to Okita, there would need to be more than a few caveats. Strictures, even.

Saito nods.“The event organizers are quite open to most concepts their players create. If you have conceived of something outside the usual bounds of play, I’m sure they would be happy to work with you to—”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing— nothing like that.” The look that filters up through her lashes is shy, hopeful even as her head ducks against her shoulder, as if she’s bracing for a blow. “I just…I thought…I mean, it was really Kimigiku who said it first, but I think I agree that it would be, ah, best if I made a character that would give me an excuse to stay near more experienced players, since I’m, you know, new, and, um, not really good at acting yet, and, ah…?”

“Ah! Excellent idea, Yukimura. There are plenty of well-established players that enjoy teaching newer ones.” Shimada would be an obvious choice— he’d been the one to take him under his wing, shinobi-to-shinobi, back when Yamazaki first joined— though his steely Hiruma scout was a difficult sell for companionship. Enomoto too, though as an organizer, it would be hard to say if he’d be playing his Kitsuki investigator or a more plot-bearing role. “Do you think if I were to email Ootori now, he might be able to get us a list of—?”

Saito clears his throat, pointed. “I think Yukimura might already have some idea of what mentors she would prefer.”

“Oh…?” Yamazaki glances at her, catching the quick bob of her head. “Ah, sorry! I didn’t think you knew anyone but Saito and myself. But if there’s someone else…?”

He hardly thinks he’s earned the weary glare Saito slings his way. At least until Yukimura stutters out, “It’s just…I thought…?” Her eyes dart between the two of them, brow pinched tight over her nose. “I thought maybe…I might play the, um…daimyo’s daughter? If that’s okay, that is.”

For as acute as his hearing is, Yamazaki cannot have possibly heard that right. “…Excuse me? Which…?”

“The, uh…Crane Clan princess.” Her lips purse, thoughtful. Too thoughtful, really, when he can’t even knock two brain cells together to get a spark. “Or I guess she’s not really a princess, but…um…?”

“The Doji daimyo’s daughter,” Saito says, devastatingly even. “The one that Yamazaki and I are sworn to protect.”

“Yes!” She smiles so bright she can’t possibly understand what she’s asking. “That way I’ll have a reason for sticking close to you two!”

He can only stare, mouth working useless at a muffled, “W-what?”

“Oh, I just…I didn’t want to impose on you two by making some new character and forcing you both to shoehorn her in to accommodate me. But I…” Her hands flutter, flustered under his gaping gaze. “I could do that, if…if that’s better? Or I mean, you don’t have to do anything for me at all, I could just, um…?”

“What?” Yamazaki asks again, slightly louder. “Do you really want to…? I mean, the daimyo’s daughter…?”

“Yes! Unless it would be a problem?” Her teeth worry at her bottom lip, and— and he can see it now, the pucker of red that would be painted over it, bright against the white of her teeth. Heat flares up his neck, head ringing with sudden rush of blood flooding over his ear drums. “Ah, I didn’t even ask if there was someone already playing her character! There probably is. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed—!”

“There isn’t,” he blurts out, more exorcism than information. God, what he wouldn’t give for a good slap, just to rattle his brain back into working order. He’s never been one to believe in percussive maintenance, but he’ll make an exception, just this once “She’s just…just lore.”

“In my opinion, it’s the perfect solution.” Saito’s mouth lifts at a corner, practically a smile. “As expected from you, Yukimura.”

“O-oh.” Hands clap to her cheeks, but it does nothing to cover how pink floods her from collar to hairline. “It’s nothing, really. I wouldn’t have even asked if Sen and Kimigiku hadn’t told me I should.”

“It is a good idea.” He means the words as he says them, and yet somehow he can’t help but add, “It’s just…I don’t see why a daimyo’s daughter would be following around a shinobi. Her father pressed him into another service nearly three years ago, so why would she…?”

Care. That’s the crux of it. For all that hime-sama had meant to him, a shinobi is eta, less than a person, worth no more than the dirt at the bottom of her slipper. That she had even deigned to notice him was proof of her generous nature, but to care for him beyond what a girl does for her most loyal hound, enough that she would risk herself and the reputation of her family to come to his side? That could be no more than a fantasy, a story he might tell himself in the last moments before death claimed him, and she—

“Kimigiku had a good idea for that too, actually.” Yukimura’s tremulous smile finds its footing, growing more eager with each word. “What if there was someone who was after her? An assassin, or maybe…some other clan who would like to hold her ransom? That way she’d have a good reason to be in disguise.”

“Disguised?” Saito settles back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “As a kunoichi? Or as someone else?”

“Kuno…?” Yukimura blinks, turning those guileless eyes onto him.

“A female shinobi. Er, ninja, I guess.” He raises his hand, but there’s no bag to tug, no strap to hold onto while he flounders. Instead he has to settle for his collar, the echo of his mother’s voice clucking, keep that up and you’ll stretch the darn thing out. It only makes him tug harder. “Mechanically, there’s no difference. It’s just, uh…flavor, I guess.”

“Oh.” Her mouth rounds into a perfect circle. “Then I guess…no? I thought that— well, Kimigiku thought that it might make more sense if I…ah, I mean, since she has been traveling by herself, that she might be trying to pass herself off as a boy?”

It’s the perfect idea, slotting right into the extensive backstory they’d hashed out three years ago— adventurous hime-sama, separated from her two most stalwart protectors just as the pillars of the Doji clan shook beneath the weight of an ailing emperor. A daimyo’s daughter gone missing in the chaos of the capital, right when her marriage would legitimize either of his son’s claims.

Silence stretches between them, long enough it starts to buzz, to ring. Like static, only interrupted by the ragged pull of his breath, and the relentless pounding of his heart.

“You…?” His tongue tangles, mouth too dry to right itself properly in his mouth. “That’s…?”

“Very clever, Yukimura.” A corner of Saito’s mouth lifts, spreading into the faintest smile, and— ah, of course he’d enjoy this, the sadist. It’s not like it’s his heart trying to escape through his rib cage. “Quite impressive.”

A blush flares across the highest arches of her cheeks. “Oh, it’s not me that…I mean, it was really Kimigiku who thought of everything. She even had a costume I could borrow, if I wanted. Do you want me to show you?”

Against all reason, Saito’s brows lift, and it’s all the encouragement Yukimura needs to fish through her pockets, pulling out a slender screen covered in cherry blossoms. She scrolls, excitement practically palpable, and yet all Yamazaki can stumble out is a “But…?”

“It’s a good hook.” Saito gaze darts toward him, pointed. “A very good one.”

Meaning: Ootori’s going to love it. With the emperor barely clinging to his mortal coil, a conflict between his sons would be imminent. The reappearance of Doji Hogyoku’s prodigal daughter at a secret meeting in support of the youngest imperial son would cause the exact sort of political upheaval that man salivates over, and all he has to do is sign off on a player’s participation. The fact that it would create a good amount of personal drama for Yamazaki in particular— well, that would just be the cherry on his sadist sundae.

“I know it is,” he snaps, shoulders hiking up to his ears. God, the smile that’s sure to spread over that cherubic face— it gives him shivers just thinking about it. “It’s just…”

He’ll never live it down. For hime-sama to show up— no, for her to arrive in his care, a personal friend he’s allowed to take her roll—

“O-oh.” Yukimura’s hands fall to her lap, grip limp where they wrap around her phone. “I’m sorry. I’m overstepping, aren’t I?”

That’s exactly what she’s not doing, but his head’s too scrambled to say so, not before her shoulders round, framing a rueful smile. “It’s really okay if you don’t want me to play her, Yamazaki. I know she’s really important to you. I can just come up with—“

“No! No.” His hand flies, like he could somehow physically stop her from running off with the wrong idea. “That’s really not it at all. Saito’s right, it’s a great idea. I’ve already, uh…”

He’s not sure what’s worse: the hopeful look Yukimura gives him as he stammers to a stop, curiosity shining out of every eyelash— or the casual way Saito kicks his chair, dislodging what he’d hoped he could keep to himself. “I’ve already played around with a potential build for her. I’ll, ah…email it to you.”

Saito’s glare burns where it bores into his neck, but he can stare all he wants; Yukimura doesn’t need to know how long this character sheet has sat on his hard drive, unused. Never meant to be used, not unless Ootori asked for it, the metatextual third member of the Crane Clan trio, the one both of their characters had been built around. The one whose absence left them less than whole.

And now here is Yukimura, squinting at her screen, about to fill it.

“Oh.” Her eyes pulse wide, scrolling through the overview. “You’ve filled out the whole thing!”

“I don’t expect you to use it! I mean, not as-is, if you don’t want to.” He shifts his squirming into a shrug, not casual enough to be normal. “You can do whatever you like, it’s just, ah…someplace to start. If you want it.”

“I do!” Yukimura’s smile peeks out from behind her screen, the sun emerging from behind the clouds, and an inconvenient warmth rolls through him from head to toe. “I mean, I have a couple of ideas that I thought I might want to use, but this…this is super helpful. It must have been so much work.”

“Less than you’d think,” he manages, faintly. “I’m glad it helps.”

She nods, emphatic. “It really does. Do you think I could take a couple minutes to look through this on my own, and then maybe…?”

There’s uncertainty in the way she lifts her gaze, a hesitation in the way her voice rises, as if she’s waiting for someone to finish the thought— and it’s not until his chair jolts under him, aided by the firm application of Saito’s foot, that Yamazaki realizes that it’s supposed to be him.

“Ah!” The sound slips through his teeth long before he’s composed an acceptable interjection, but now she’s looking at him, expectant, and the pressure alone squeezes out, “Did you want me to help you, Yukimura?”

It’s worth it for the way her whole face lights, for the way her whole body pitches forward, eagerness leaking from every pore. “Yes! I mean, if that’s okay.” Her eyes dart over his shoulder, curious. “Do you mind?”

Saito shakes his head. “It would be our pleasure.”

“Great!” The sun itself couldn’t put out the wattage Yukimura does now, so bright Yamazaki nearly squints. Oh, he’s never going to live this one down. “Is after dinner okay?”

“Yeah,” he manages faintly as she springs to her feet. “Perfect.”

The door’s barely closed behind her before the pressure of Saito’s stare bores into him, the pregnant silence only honing his unspoken words to a point.

“I know,” he grunts, head falling back against his chair. “I know.”

“It’s a good idea,” Saito says after the world’s most judgmental pause. “I’m sure Ootori will feel the same.”

A groan filters through his fingers. “I know that too.”

“It will solve more than a few logistical issues this session’s agenda has presented.” Yamazaki hardly knows what’s worse: the ribbing he’s about to take from every player in their party, or the fact that Saito has done his own math on the matter, and whatever amount he’s derived has made his tone downright sympathetic. Gentle, even. “Her part would have to be filled sooner rather than later, and I would rather have it be someone of our own choosing, rather than having it assigned to one of the admin—”

“I know. I’m going to DM Ootori about it in a minute. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” For more reasons than logistics, but that’s the last thing he’s ready to hash out right now. Especially with someone whose personal philosophy is that all is fair in LARP and roleplay— as long as it’s interesting. “It’s just…”

There’s too much ‘just’ to make a tidy little list; so many it’s impossible to separate them from their Gordian snarl into discrete, presentable bullet points. So instead the silence stretches as he struggles, trying to cut it down to its most salient points, the ones that Saito might not only understand, but appreciate, and—

“Complicated?” Saito offers simply.

Yamazaki sighs. “Yeah. Really fucking complicated.”

[Susumu Yamazaki] If you have a moment.

[The1andOotori] for my favorite shinobi? any time

[Susumu Yamazaki] I wanted to update you on our progress with character building. Or rather, if one player wants to progress with one of their current concepts, I think it may require Story Master permission.

[The1andOotori] oh? intriguing if they’re your friends, Susumu, i’m sure that i’ll be happy to accommodate them the others have been just fine right? we were a little thin on lion clan people anyway good to have some more

[Susumu Yamazaki] Please reserve your praise until after I’ve explained their idea.

[The1andOotori] ominous! i like that in a concept anyway lay it on me. promise to react with suitable horror maybe even clutch my pearls

[Susumu Yamazaki] She is an inexperienced player and concerned with her ability to roleplay well with people she is unfamiliar with. So she wanted to pick a character that would allow her to stick close to more familiar and experienced players.

[The1andOotori] that’s pretty clever

[Susumu Yamazaki] She is.

[The1andOotori] so she wants to stick close to you and hajime? i think we can manage that did she have some idea of what she wanted to do?

[Susumu Yamazaki] She wants to be Doji Hogyoku’s daughter.

[The1andOotori] HIME-SAMA??? sorry, just surprised that’s…good with you?

[Susumu Yamazaki] Saito and I have agreed she would be an adequate player to embody her role.

[The1andOotori] wow okay yeah that’s fine wow it actually takes a load off my plate. we were going to have to cast her for this session marie already volunteered but i can tell her we got it covered wow

[Susumu Yamazaki] My friend can pick another role if you it would be too difficult for you to change plans now. I know this is short notice.

[The1andOotori] no no this is good i’d rather have hime-sama be someone you like

[Susumu Yamazaki] I’m sure Marie could also do an admirable job with hime-sama. If that would make things easier for you.

[The1andOotori] uh huh okay if you had your pick of hime-samas do you want marie or your friend?

[Susumu Yamazaki] …

[The1andOotori] no judgment. your choice

[Susumu Yamazaki] I think hime-sama’s personality would come more naturally to Chizuru.

[The1andOotori] there it is then i’ll want to talk to all of you after check-in Saito too i think you guys will be interested in what we’ve cooked up

Yamazaki doesn’t so much sit back in his chair as wither into it, hands clapping over his eyes. “There. I did it.”

A chair squeaks— Saito must be turning to him. “You’re going to have to tell her.”

His shoulders stiffen so fast they ache. “I can’t do that. It would be— be metagaming. She should only know what hime-sama knows.”

He’d also rather die than explain that particular bit of backstory to Yukimura, but he doubts Saito will find that as compelling an excuse.

When his hands tumble to his lap, like dying leaves from a tree, Saito is staring at him. “Who is to say she doesn’t?”

“Excuse me?” He straightens, righteousness flaring beneath his chest. “The Daodoji are circumspect. He would never let her think— no, not even let her suspect—”

“I understand,” Saito assured him. “But what if she hopes…?”

Yamazaki licks his lips, his mouth impossibly dry. “No. That’s not possible. She doesn’t…hime-sama thinks of him as her loyal retainer. And it will stay that way.”

“Unless Ootori changes that.” Saito gives him a pointed glance. “Or Yukimura.”

His heart flutters uselessly in his chest. “She won’t.”

Saito hums, unconvinced. “I could tell her if you want.”

Yamazaki glares. “I certainly don’t!”

“Hm.” Oume settles back in her chair, a slender finger pressed against her pursed lips. “Cutting the deadline a little close this year, aren’t we, Mr Yamazaki?”

“Ah…” Yamazaki’s hand spasms around the strap of his bag, guilt pulling his polite smile thin. “Professor Matsumoto had a few contestations in progress before he left for Japan. I’m given to understand the thirteen hour difference made the process go…slower than either party liked.”

Oume gives him a look over her half-moon spectacles so eloquent the lit department could write a dozen papers about its themes and allusions without even scraping the surface of her meaning. She might be in Administration now, but fifteen years as the former provost’s personal assistant had left her fluent in the sort of subtlety that would make government agencies green with envy. "And that is why you are here, handing me a handful of grades on a…post-it?…at three forty-five?”

“Uh…” He swallows, neck so tight he’s half afraid he’ll gag on his own Adam’s apple. “Yes. But to be fair, I at least put it on a Large Note?”

Her finger twitches; the note’s struck across it, wide enough the stickum spans the whole length, delicate blue lines running in parallel. The movement angles it just enough to read his neatest print, each name and grade change logged with precision, and her mouth wobbles at a corner. “Whatever Ryojun pays you, it isn’t enough. You can tell him that, from me.”

He won’t— even an undergrad knows better than to get between an academic and their funding— but he appreciates the thought. “Sorry again for the late changes. I tried to get them over as early as I could.”

“I’m sure you did, Mr Yamazaki.” There’s a hardness to the set of Oume’s face, a sharpness Yamazaki’s not used to seeing. With a keystroke, she brings up her university inbox, mouth pursed as she clicks Compose. “Don’t worry, I know exactly who to blame.”

It’s a sign— not one of those simple ones, like Caution: High Voltage or Slippery When Wet, but the kind that had skulls and thunderbolts and reads, This Will Kill You and Hurt the Entire Time. His sign really, telling him it’s time to clear out before he can get caught in the splash radius of whatever cursed energy she’s about to lob across the pacific.

He clears his throat, just soft enough to catch the edge of her attention. “Have a happy New Year, ma’am.”

Pale eyes flick up toward him, her mouth sparing him the smallest of smiles. “You too, Mr Yamazaki.”

Yamazaki steps out into the hallway, making it nearly three strides before he lets go of the breath he’s holding, deflating like Toudou’s most recent attempts to make something edible. Next semester, he’s going to sit on Dr Matsumoto’s luggage until the final grades are filed.

“Ah, Yamazaki!”

His whole body starts, jerking to attention, but when he looks up it’s straight into the second button of a maroon parka, left open over its zipper. He has to take a step back— and crane his neck— to even catch a glimpse of the friendly smile hanging above it. “Haah, Shimada. I didn’t see you.”

How a man as big as that can move so silently, he will never know. He appreciates it in the LARP, but here on campus— well, there’s a reason big dog owners at least put collars on them. People usually like a little warning before a Great Dane bounds up into their business.

Shimada’s mouth twitches. “I take it Oume is perhaps not in her best mood?”

“If that folder you are holding contains final grades in it, then I would not expect a warm reception,” he confirms, sternly. “I didn’t think you’d be the sort that would sit on them this late.”

“Oh, no.” A manila envelope has never looked so reasonably sized as it does in his hands. “These are the class descriptions for next semester.”

His brows raise. “Weren’t those supposed to be in a month ago?”

“Yes.” There’s another twitch of that wide mouth, this time in the other direction. “I have a feeling she’ll be just as happy to see these as she would be if this was full of grades.”

Yamazaki has no answer but a grimace.

“Oh, I talked to Ootori last night.” Shimada’s tone is curious, but only politely so. “I heard you’re bringing your friends this weekend.”

“Ah…” He can only hope Ootori didn’t get specific about just who was coming. The last thing he needed was everyone pressed to the glass when they showed up, trying to get a glance at the girl he let play hime-sama. “Yes. My housemates, actually.”

“Oh, that will be nice.” Shimada’s smile widens. “Itou probably hasn’t seen them in a while. No doubt he’ll be excited for them to see him in his biggest role—”

Yamazaki stiffens. “Ah…what was that?”

Shimada blinks. “Oh, didn’t you hear? He’s getting to play Hantei’s younger son. Daisetsu.”

[Yamazaki Susumu] I think we may have made a grave miscalculation.

[Saito.Hajime] How so?

[Yamazaki Susumu] Itou is going to be there.

[Saito.Hajime] Yes?

[Yamazaki Susumu] And we’re bringing Okita.

[Saito.Hajime] Oh Well Shit

#yamachi #hakuouki #my fic #modern au #college au #If the Mind Is Willing #LARP au #i'm having the realization that i do indeed need to build like 12 character for the next few chapter to flow properly and like #freestyle screaming over it. i have bought the 5th ed sourcebook and i have a feeling I will be picking at this #for a few months whenever I wanna stop thinking about my bigger projects 🤣#next chapter is also going to involve OCs and BOY is that gonna be SOMETHING #maybe i can finally find a place to squeeze in souma and nomura 😅

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taylortruther · 1 month ago

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Hi Rae, I need advice!

Context: Have a close friend who is going through a lot (terrible job/bad flatmates/no tight social circle apart from us high school friends/very contentious relationship with her family/struggling to get affordable healthcare in the US/mismanaged and scary finances). A lot of these issues are deep-seated, going back almost ten years.

Problem: Me and our other friend have always been her biggest "venting ground". Our group chat is literally that. But I'm so emotionally burnt out from her right now, it's making me resentful because I'm waking up every day to 10+ messages (we're in three different timezones).

I don't know what else to say other than "I'm sorry, that's awful" whenever we get some new despair-filled message. Saying "wow that sucks" and "I get you, it's frustrating" is really doing me in rn. (I suspect a big part of my resentment is also about the fact that I tend to be a very solutions-oriented person and for months we've been gently offering her solutions to some of the more easily fixable things in her life rn and she just *refuses* to use them. Example: She burns through her salary super fast and it stresses her out but will also message us about how theres a 500 dollar laser treatment she wants to get for herself as a birthday present. I told her to maybe think of a more affordable thing she could get herself and bracket the laser as a later wish. She didnt.).

I know I need to boundaries, but am not sure how express them without making her feel bad (is that even possible) and adding to her stress. Maybe I just need to keep saying "I'm sorry, that sucks" in 10x ways.

it sucks, but i think you need to be okay with her feelings being a little hurt. stop being so gentle, be a little tough! just because her feelings are hurt doesn't mean what you are doing is wrong - it's not! you're doing a good thing, you're trying to save your friendship by setting boundaries so you can continue being there for her.

the most straightforward thing, imo, would be to message her next time this happens, and say something like, "i know you are going through a really hard time, and it sounds really rough. i want to help find solutions for you, but it's hard to know how to help when you keep going in circles."

she will probably say, "i just need to vent, you are the only people i can talk to!"

and you can say, "i am happy to listen sometimes, but it's a lot of negativity to listen to without being able to help." maybe even talk on a, "i really want to tell you all about[x important thing in your life that i am guessing she never asks about]!"

you could also do some more passive things. when she gets started, say something like, "how are you planning on dealing with it?" and if she dismisses it, maybe say, "that sounds tough, you should do x. also, did i tell you all i'm going to [x important event] tomorrow?" LMAO like i'm literally laughing writing this out, because your friend is probably going to get upset. i find people who vent and vent and vent are often not the types that take kindly to this sort of thing. but honestly, if your friend is venting this much, she probably isn't much of a friend to you right now either, right? she's treating you like an object, just this big hole she can throw all her woes into, not a person/friend who she should also care about.

also, any of the above might make her just... drop the chat. so proceed knowing that.

you could also just like... not respond. or respond a little, but after a few courtesy messages, "heart" the message, say, "i'm so sorry you are going through that!" and then gently change the topic. this is probably what i would do.

also, most common, you could just fade her out. i don't necessarily recommend it, but if you find yourself just wanting to mute the chat... i can't really blame you.

#relationships

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sequinsmile-x · 2 years ago

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hand holding #1 and kisses 48 please for your celebration!!! i love you soooo much! ❤️❤️ congratulations on 500!! 🥰 MUAH!

I LOVE YOU TOO!!! <3

I really hope you like this!!

-x-

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Pregnancy and labour

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She’d never felt pain like it.

She was sure her body had been pushed to its limit before. Her recovery from what Ian had done to her was brutal. She’d learnt to walk again, her core strength reduced to nothing. Months and months of physical therapy. Exhaustion ran down to her very core, and most of her early days in Paris were spent sleeping, wishing she was anywhere other than where she was.

Those days, she was now realising, were a walk in the park in comparison to this.

The baby was coming early. Five whole weeks earlier than she should be, and the fear that gripped her chest, making her breathless, almost matched the contractions that were rolling through her body. Relentless in their nature, making her cry out in a way she didn’t know she could.

She grimaces as the midwife examines her and she squeezes the hand that had been wrapped in hers for hours now.

“Ok, Emily,” the midwife says, smiling kindly at her as she stands up straight, “You’re fully dilated so it’s time for you to start pushing.”

She whimpers, something she would later deny, and she shakes her head, “No, I can’t be. Aaron isn’t here yet,” she looks at Penelope, her eyes meeting her friends that were full of sympathy, “I need Aaron.”

The baby was coming early. And whilst Emily was grounded now, Aaron was still travelling with the team to go away on cases. He was in Ohio, hours away from her and their daughter who was apparently a little too keen to be born. Penelope hadn’t left her side, and had refused to go anywhere after Emily went into labour in her office.

“I spoke to him about 30 minutes ago, Em,” Penelope says, squeezing her hand, “He’s trying his best to get here as quickly as he can.”

“See,” Emily says slightly desperately, turning to look at the midwife, “We can wait, he’s on his way.”

The midwife places her hand on Emily’s leg and her smile somehow gets kinder. Emily groans as another contraction rolls through her, her eyes screwing shut as she waits for it to pass, even though she knows the next one will be chasing right after it.

“Emily,” the midwife says, “You need to do what is safest for you and your baby,” she says gently, “And right now that is getting your baby delivered, her dad can meet her as soon as he gets here, and he’ll have a whole lifetime to spend with her. Ok?”

Emily cries, and she hates it. Hates that she’s as afraid as she is, that her husband, the one person who could truly calm her down, isn’t here. She places her hand on her bump, her skin drum tight over her daughter, and she blows out a steady breath before she nods.

“Ok,” she says, “Let's do this.”

He’s sure he’s never driven so quickly in his life.

He’s grateful for Penelope, for the frequent updates, and idly thinks to himself that he owes her a raise after this. Or a vacation for as long as she wanted.

It had been a long time since he’d felt panic like he had when Emily had called him only a few hours earlier. Her voice strained as she explained to him that she was in labour, that her waters had broken on Penelope’s office floor and she was going to the hospital. Emily was clearly trying to keep calm for him, to soothe the fears she’d no doubt know he’d immediately have.

He curses himself for leaving her, and clenches his teeth as he remembers kissing her on the forehead before he left the bullpen just two days ago. A promise against her skin that after this case he’d stay behind, that he’d be by her side until their daughter came.

And now he might miss it all.

He barely waits for the car to be turned off when he jumps out of it, flashing his badge at the security guard who yells at him that he can’t park there. He doesn’t care if his car gets towed, or even if he never sees the damn thing again, he just wants to get to his wife.

He isn’t even close to polite as he demands to be shown to her room, the nurse at the front desk staring at him with slightly wide eyes as she points him in the right direction. He comes to a grinding halt as he spots Penelope in the hallway, fear briefly gripping his body as he walks towards her.

“Garcia…”

“Bossman!” She exclaims, a smile on her face as she pulls him into a hug, her eyes shining with unshed tears, “You made it!”

“Is everything ok?” He asks, pulling back, his heart hammering in her chest, “Is…”

“Everything is perfect,” Penelope replies,” squeezing his arm, “She asked to be alone for a little while, but I have a feeling that doesn’t include you.”

It’s confirmation that both delights him and scares him. He’d missed it, but they were both ok. A mixture of joy and sorrow that he hadn’t anticipated mixing in his stomach.

He nods, and walks towards the door she directs him to, pausing as his hand is on the door handle when Penelope says his name.

“Hotch,” she says, clearing her throat as she corrects herself, “Aaron, congratulations.”

He smiles at her and takes a deep breath before he walks into Emily’s room. As soon as he spots her it’s like nothing else exists, and he finds himself frozen to the spot as the door closes behind him.

She’s never looked more beautiful. She’s tired, he can see that from across the room, and her hair is tied up in a braid so intricate he’s sure Penelope must have done it for her. Her smile is as wide as he’s ever seen it, and she's looking down at a tiny bundle in her arms, the smallest hand he’s ever seen wrapped around one of her fingers.

“Look, sweet girl,” she whispers. She doesn’t look up at him, but her smile gets impossibly wider, “Daddy’s here. I told you he’d be here soon.”

It’s all he needs to make it across the room, his breath catching in his chest as he looks down at his daughter.

“She’s beautiful,” he chokes out, reaching out to touch her, his fingers trailing over her soft hair, “She’s so small.”

“5lbs 7oz,” Emily says looking up at him, her eyes shining with pride she rarely allowed herself to feel. She smiles at him, “Hi.”

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, settling on the edge of her bed, his guilt for not being here almost overwhelming him as the adrenaline of getting her stars to wear off, “I am so so sorry I wasn’t here. I never should have gone, and I got here as quickly as I could. I even used the blue lights-”

She leans in to kiss him, her lips soft against his as she stops any further apologies. She didn’t need them, nor did she want to hear them. He was here now and that was what mattered.

“It’s ok, honey,” she says as she kisses him once more before she pulls back. They both know they’ll talk about it more, that she can’t undo his guilt with three words any more than he can undo that she went through labour without him with apologies, but for now, they were both content to bask in the joy of their new baby, “Do you want to hold her?”

He doesn’t need asking twice and gently takes the newborn from her, marvelling as she feels like she weighs almost nothing in his arms. Emily settles her head against his shoulder, her eyes fixed on their daughter's face.

“She’s ok?” He asks, staring down at his little girl, “There weren’t any complications because she’s so early?”

Emily shakes her head against him, “She’s ok. They’ll keep her here for a little while though, just to be sure.”

“I’ll stay with her,” he promises, and it makes her smile, her lips pressing into his suit jacket, “That way you can get some rest if you get sent home before her.”

She knows there is no way she is leaving her baby, but she lets it slide for now, “I think we’re definitely going to have to use Penelope as a middle name.”

He chuckles and turns his head to kiss the top of hers, “Definitely. But we’ll have to come up with something short for her first name, otherwise, she’ll hate us forever.”

She hums in response, and they lapse into a brief silence, the only noise in the room the soft sounds of their daughter breathing.

“Aaron?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He asks, still staring at his little girl's perfect face.

“Next time we do this, you’re grounded the second I am, ok?”

-x-

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 5 months ago

Text

Excuse me . I don’t want yet another text draft I never get around to posting, so….

It’s funny how much a little appreciation means.

Yesterday I was working my ass off hacking on the overgrown yard at the Burras House when a man came walking by. I’d seen him earlier walking along the street. He was hunched with the sideways walk Pop always had when his back was out, but he apparently made it all the way to the Dollar General across the highway. Now, and hour or so later, he was trying to find a shorter way back home, and was cutting across the neighboring yard.

“Good job!!” he called out to me as he waved his hands at the area I’d cut. I thanked him so much for saying it must have surprised him.

The thing is that no one EVER says “good job” to me! Complaints, yes, but praise, never. I work so VERY hard all the time, but none of it ever counts.

It’s especially true for something like this, where someone would normally just either use a riding mower or even hire someone to deal with it. People look and tut that it isn’t “mowed” neatly enough, or if they see me swinging the blade they assume I’m either too much of a tight wad to buy a mower or I’m making some sort of environmental statement. ** I get grumbles about not doing enough, if I get anything at all.

We ended up having a nice little chat. It turns out he recently moved from New York, and he laughed that’s why he likes talking to all sorts of people. I chuckled too, because it is atypical for this town. I hadn’t really thought about it until he said it, but then again I hadn’t noticed his accent until then either. (I’m so oblivious to accents, not usually “hearing” them in the moment. it’s weird )

It’s a small, rural town of less than 500 people, where theoretically everyone knows everyone, yet people exist in these bubbles. As you would expect, race is one aspect, but there are many subtle shadings of who socializes with who. I talk to anyone/everyone, like eye contact cues a “Hi!” and will happily chat if they want. But my neighbors aren’t like that, and folks are often taken aback when I speak to them.

Anyway, the guy talked with me a bit. We commiserated about doing things through pain, and the way people don’t acknowledge it, and discussed yard tools. That sort of thing.

On the flattering side, he admired how strong I must be (Second time this week men have done that! LOL). I’m not strong, I’ve just got a lot of endurance and bull headed determination.

On the side that makes me sigh, he worried about me doing so much because I’m a woman. Never in my entire life had my family treated things as “what women do” and “what men do”. Gender has never been an excuse for not doing something, so saying “You shouldn’t have to do all that! You’re a woman!” irritates me.

It was a pleasant chat, especially since with no shopping trip until next month I might not get a chance to talk to anyone for quite a while. But what mattered to me, what really, REALLY mattered to me, was that he saw the work I was doing. My efforts were seen and appreciated!!

I had been resigned to the feeling that no one would ever notice anything I do, that nothing I do mattered, that I didn’t matter…

I thanked him. I thanked him for saying something about my work. I thanked him for just talking to me. He must have thought me nuts, but geez, I was so grateful.

There is still too much to do, and it all still seems so overwhelming and even futile. But you know what? While I still have to do deal with it all alone, but having a stranger see, actually see, my struggles made me feel so much better.

Sometimes you just want someone to appreciate your pain so you don’t feel so alone and forgotten…..

**You could say my father was the local environmentalist. In a tiny, rural, southern town that wasn’t too hard. The fact he was on the board of the North Carolina Coastal Federation and once was the local contact for Greenpeace doing a little action on a nearby plant polluting the river made it a wee bit more notable than just some dude trying to convince his neighbors that climate change was real. (BTW, I dunno when that started being a big thing for him, but he knew about climate change, albeit not by that name, since the late 1950s. Imagine how frustrated he felt)

#rambles #my day #socializing #struggles #conversations #i can’t tag things properly #i was too tired to be writing this anyway

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moondal514 · 2 years ago

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Some fic reading numbers to wrap up 2022

In 2022 I bookmarked on ao3 1610 new fics (though only about 500 of those are in my public bookmarks). The fandom I read the most for was AFTG, accounting for a whopping 1271 of those new bookmarks

Here’s a multi-fandom list of 10 of my favorites of all the fics I read in 2022. I limited myself to only choosing from fics that aren’t a part of series or WIPs cuz otherwise I prob wouldn’t be able to limit it to only 10.

In no particular order:

Fandom: Alice in Wonderland

The Red Country by jibrailis

Before Alice ever fell down the rabbit-hole, there were two girls who found Wonderland first and who became, respectively, the White Queen and the Queen of Hearts. [Alice in Wonderland prequel].

One of the best wlw stories I’ve ever read

Fandom: The Book Thief/The Hunger Games

Pistol for a Mouth (the Perpetual Survivor Remix) by antistar_e/ @kaikamahine

”Well? How do I look?” He stood in front of her and fisted his hands atop his hips, and Liesel immediately covered her mouth.

Coal dust smeared him black head-to-toe, except for a bare patch that shaped the number “12” on his chest. She drew closer, whispering, “Rudy, it’s even in your ears!” [Hunger Games AU.]

Lovely but incredibly sad reintroduction to 2 books I hadn’t thought about since middle school

Fandom: Star Wars

those immortal dead by notbecauseofvictories/ @notbecauseofvictories

I care more for that long age which I shall never see than for the little of Time that I hold

Padmé Amidala is forgotten, not gone.

Lovely revisit of my favorite Star Wars character

Fandom: Coco

Work of All Saints by antistar_e

Her mother sends her a letter, after. We cannot help you, Imelda, it says. You are the consequence of your actions.

"This is not my fault!" Imelda shouts.

Imelda Rivera (b. 1899 - d. 1969), a story that includes but is not limited to: the finest music school this side of the Santo Domingo, three traveling musicians and the mess they made of love, the twice-cursed assassination of Venustiano Carranza, all the patron saints, and ninety-six ways a man can try to cross a bridge.

Best piece of historical fiction I read this year

Fandom: All For the Game

We Can Live Forever by mostly_maudlin/ @mostlymaudlin

PALMETTO HIGH SCHOOL ATHLETIC FUNDRAISER

WINTER SERENADES - $5 EACH

On sale Dec. 15-17 during lunch blocks. Support our teams, and let them show your friends how much you care through choreographed song and dance!

Participation in the fundraiser is mandatory for all student-athletes. Maybe none of this would have happened if they weren't pushed out of their comfort zones. (But honestly, maybe it was always going to end this way.)

A story about the joys of competition, the people in your corner, and, of course, the misfortune of being a teenager in love with your best friend.

Fic that cheered me up immensely during my lowest days of this year

Spark like empty lighters by butallmystars/ @butallmystars

Honestly, Andrew is just glad his number isn’t blocked. He thumbs at the lighter in his back pocket. Weighs the risk of numb fingers if he smokes with his free hand. And stops thinking entirely when the call connects.

There’s rustling—silence, and then: “Didn’t I get rid of you?”

3rd ever fic to make me physically cry

hold my hand, hold it tight by jingerhead/ @jingerhead

Neil sat alone in the kitchen and wasn’t sure if he could stomach the tea anymore. He’d had over six months to learn that Andrew was very much off-limits, but knowing that didn’t stop the clusterfuck happening in his brain. Because although Neil had never had a crush before he wasn’t stupid, alright? He knows that being jealous of someone else’s relationship has to at least mean something.

So, yeah. Neil has a crush on his roommate, Andrew Minyard, who just so happens to be dating his other roommate, Kevin Day. The whole thing sounds like the setup to a bad romcom.

1st ever fic gifted to me, won at my 1st ever fic giveaway

glass in the trees (objects in the rearview) by Major_816

Sometimes, Andrew thinks in ichor, and sometimes Andrew thinks in a mausoleum of god worship and tragedy.

2nd ever fic to make me physically cry

it takes two (but you and I are one) by kairospy/ @kairospy

Sometimes, not often — not enough for it to be concerning — he felt too much like him.

Andrew noticed the very moment Nathaniel walked into the locker room.

:*:*:

Nathaniel Wesninski had been dormant for too long.

Absolutely fascinating take on Nathaniel vs. Neil and just mind-boggling amazing prose

Hush, Don’t Say a Word by waterwings/ @amywaterwings

Excerpt from local newspaper, January 10, 2016

A Killer Is on the Loose at Palmetto State. Are You Safe?

For a detailed re-telling of the gruesome events that gripped the Palmetto State campus over the past eight months, please see the pages below. But I beg you, dear reader, tread lightly. You don’t know what’s waiting for you, out there in the dark.

~Katelyn Golightly, Student Journalist

Probably one of my favorite pieces of writing ever period

Thank you so much to all you fic writers out there. You guys make life that much more bearable

Here’s to 2023 being a year of lots of more lovely fic reading 😊

#fanfiction wrapped #fic rec #aftg #star wars #thg #the book thief #alice in wonderland #coco #fic rec list

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dustedmagazine · 1 year ago

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Dust Volume Nine, Number Eight

Spiral Joy Band

The music plays on through the end of the most disastrous summer in living memory, with Maui on fire and Arizona broiled beneath a heat dome and Vermont swept away in a 100- maybe 500-year flood. And here’s the kicker: next year will likely be worse. Still by force of habit, we continue on with the daily grind, cooking and mowing lawns and going to shows and listening to records. This month’s haul includes avant-black metal, turntablism, bass-forward jazz, jolting punk and music made in collaboration with our robot overlords. Contributors this time include Jonathan Shaw, Bill Meyer, Jim Marks, Jennifer Kelly, Tim Clarke and Bryon Hayes.

夢遊病者 — Skopophoboexoskelett (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

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In past thinking and writing about this tri-continental, avant-garde, jazz and black metal project (whose name translates to Sleepwalker), your faithful reviewer has made concerted efforts to set aside any references to John Zorn’s Naked City ensemble. This time around, for the project’s Skopophoboexoskelett, such efforts face real challenge holding Naked City tracks like “Saigon Pickup,” “Punk China Doll” or “Razorwire” at any sort of distance. The atmospherics on Sleepwalker’s new LP explode with unpredictable noise, then emanate a patina of Noir-ish style and sleaze, especially the excellent final track “The Bad Luck That Saved You from Worse Luck.” It’s murky like a thick cloud of cigarette smoke, sexy like a stiletto heel dotted with droplets of blood, compelling like those cinematic moments at which Humphrey Bogart (as Philip Marlowe or Glenn Griffin) would grin his mean and tight grin, presaging antic, joyful violence. In spite of that violence, Skopophoboexoskelett may be Sleepwalker’s most listenable record. That could be a good or a bad thing, depending on how much you enjoyed being subsumed in the volatile chaos of their earlier records.

Jonathan Shaw

Agnel / Lanz / Vatcher — Animals (Klanggalerie)

Animals by AGNEL LANZ VATCHER

While the ability of great improvisers to make music out immediate company, available space, and their own personal resources might amaze a listener, after a while, that might become a bit routine. Perhaps that is why French pianist Sophie Agnel and American-born, Netherlands-based drummer Michael Vatcher have sought out the company of turntablist Joke Lanz, AKA Sudden Infant. Lanz’s aesthetics have grown out of punk, noise and actionism. But, being a man of a certain age, he’s been doing what he does for a long time, too, so his onslaught of well-timed body noises, electronic squiggles and good old-fashioned scratching further confounds by evading being confounding. Construction, destruction, mutual disregard and scrupulous attunement all come into play across this album’s 13 short-for-improv episodes of absurd grace. Never mind breaking this stuff down, the players are already doing that even as they make it up.

Bill Meyer

Vicente Archer Trio — Short Stories (Cellar Music Group)

Short Stories by Vicente Archer

Reviewing a release by the Bruce Barth Trio last year, I mentioned wanting to hear more of double bassist Vicente Archer, and my wishes have been answered. Short Stories, with Gerald Clayton on piano and Bill Stewart on drums, demonstrates Archer’s strengths as a musician and composer. The tunes are generally mid-tempo, mid-length, and with a kind of timeless post-bop feel. Three were written by Archer (“Bye Nashville” deserves to become a standard), two by Stewart, and one each by Clayton, Jeremy Pelt, Nicholas Payton and Pat Metheny.

An advantage of bassist-led piano trios is that the piano is usually not allowed to dominate the sound, and Clayton plays his role just right here, taking the occasional solo, as on the bluesy “Round Comes Round,” but giving the others plenty of space. The set includes a brooding solo piece for bass, “Lighthouse,” a playful duo featuring just Archer and Stewart, “It Takes Two to Know One,” and Stewart sitting out while Clayton and Archer recreate “Message to a Friend” by Metheny and Charlie Haden. Short Stories makes clear why Archer has appeared on 50 or more recordings over the past 25 years and makes the case for him as a band leader.

Jim Marks

BEEF — BEEF (Feel It)

BEEF by BEEF

BEEF jolts hard on the four-four, their songs a continuous up-and-down battery of guitar slashes, bass thunks and relentless, manic drums. There is nothing fancy or florid or even fluid about these songs. They rain down like punches, though there’s undeniable glee in the violence. Maybe it’s because the drummer, Takoda Hortenberry, is the main singer and songwriter that the songs take on such a percussive air. He’s not in it by himself, though. His wife Ally pounds the keyboards with equal force, while guitarist Sam Richardson (who also runs Feel It Records) keeps the riffs super short and super explosive. Whatever the secret, this is punk rock that slaps hard and makes you like it. “I know you want it! BEEF coming,” shouts Hortenberry in the closer, “I Want BEEF,” and the thing is, you do.

Jennifer Kelly

Jaap Blonk / Damon Smith / Ra Kalam Bob Moses — Rune Kitchen (Balance Point Acoustics)

Rune Kitchen by Jaap Blonk / Damon Smith / Ra Kalam Bob Moses

Titles can tell you things, and in this case, the words on the front clue you to the lack of words in the music. Texts have their place in Jaap Blonk’s concrete poetry, but this session is improvisation most pure. It went down in a town near St. Louis during a transitional moment; bassist Damon Smith was ending one short tour with Blonk, and about to begin another with (now Memphis-based) veteran drummer Ra Kalam Bob Moses. Perhaps inspired by anticipation, Smith and Moses lock right in, playing briskly evolving sound configurations that bristle with forthright gesture and woody texture and even confronting the vocalist with swinging, time-keeping grooves near the end. Derek Bailey once opined that there are players, and then there are artists, and Blonk’s extension of century-deep Dada actions has often seemed to put him in the latter camp. But he also has a skilled improviser’s ability to detect prevailing winds and respond with strategic counter-huffs; in the company of two men playing their asses off, he follows suit. Unburdened by pages, he digs deep into the rudiments, growling like a fever dream of throat singing, muttering strings of phonemes, and uttering proclamations that sound so important, he had to invent a new language to convey them.

Bill Meyer

Cloudland Canyon — S-T (Medical)

Cloudland Canyon (MR-091) by Cloudland Canyon

Cloudland Canyon’s Kip Uhlhorn has long favored the non-organic end of the psychedelic experience, with long, wigged out experiments in synth tone like 2008’s “Krautwerk” from Lie in Light or the squiggly fogs of “pinklight/version” from 2011’s Fin Eaves. For this self-titled album, number four in the Cloudland discography, he engages even more deeply with the machine by tapping AI as a collaborator. The result is blippy, buoyant, denatured dance anthems, like “Internet Dreams” and “Circuit City,” which sound like the mathematical average of 100 other synth popiscles. Still even robots hit the mark occasionally, and “Future Perfect (Bad Decision)” is a woozy, blurred rainbow of psych pop longing, not unlike the work of another recent Uhlhorn collaborator, Sonic Boom.

Jennifer Kelly

Annie Hart — Weight of a Wave (Uninhabitable Mansions)

The Weight of a Wave by Annie Hart

Annie Hart has made four solo albums since her days in Au Revoir Simone, an all-female Brooklyn synth pop trio beloved of David Lynch, but she hasn’t moved too far away. Weight of a Wave floats flickery synth tones over rackety drums, splitting the difference between bedroom pop and strobe lit dance. “Boy You Got Me Good” does the classic girl-group trick of lacing sweet cooing melodies with the bitter taste of arsenic. “Crowded Cloud” rides synthesizer overload like a Pat Benatar anthem, then cuts back to the antsy minimum of drum machine and whispered chants. Yet though the soft-focus, gentle bop sonics haven’t changed much from Hart’s Au Revoir Simone days, time does its work on the mood. “Nothing Makes Me Happy Anymore” layers shadowy doubled vocals over a wheedling Casio riff, as Hart enumerates the people she’s loved in various ways whose phone calls no longer suffice to cheer her up

Jennifer Kelly

Holy Wave — Five of Cups (Suicide Squeeze)

Five of Cups by HOLY WAVE

Austin, Texas quartet Holy Wave have been at it for over a decade now and Five of Cups is their sixth full-length. The band mines a similar seam to Work and Non-Work-eraBroadcast: droning organs, motorik drums heavy on the ride cymbal, spaced-out vocals, jangly guitars. Though there’s nothing inherently off-putting about this 42-minute record, the songs feel listless compared to previous efforts such as Freaks of Nurture. The performances are tight, the production is three-dimensional and the arrangements are woozy and trippy, but it sounds like the last couple of years have knocked the wind out of Holy Wave’s sails. There are some bright moments in the track list, such as the dubby grooves and female vocals of “The Darkest Timeline,” plus late highlight “Nothing in the Dark,” which is a dead ringer for early Tame Impala.

Tim Clarke

Koeosaeme — Beige (Orange Milk)

Beige by koeosaeme

With Beige, sound artist Ryu Yoshizawa throttles down his usual breakneck blipscapes in favor of expressive phrasing and varied tempos. The serial Orange Milk resident allows his compositions to breathe, to hang back and to interject when necessary. His palette remains obviously synthetic: the strings are a touch too sweet, the reeds slightly nasally. Yoshizawa coalesces these inhuman tones into lush dreamscapes, embedded with only the subtlest hint of crackling glitch. He leverages the dynamics of modern classical and musique concrète to achieve a sense of movement and surprise. Coughs, harrumphs and whispers interject at random, but Yoshizawa uses these human elements sparingly. Instead, he relies on the lushness of his (synthetic) instrumentation to set the mood. At times he lets things get a little corny, such as when a Kenny G-like sax periodically slithers into focus, but for the most part Yoshizawa’s futuristic fusion is beguiling. Unlike its neutrally hued namesake, Beige is far from boring.

Bryon Hayes

Molly Ringworm — Despicable (Self-released)

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This Molly Ringworm comes from Austin, TX, and seeks to do for hardcore what Jane Pain has done for black metal (careful with this link). Yikes. Despicable’ssongs land somewhere between energizing provocation and snotty gross-out, with the occasional nods to street punk and sludge. There’s another punky Molly Ringworm — an indie-twee outfit from Jersey whose music is more compatible with the 1980s cinema of John Hughes, with which actress Molly Ringwald will forever be associated. I prefer this band, with their snarling, trashy anti-aesthetic and their nasty sonic sensibility (which may put you in the mind of Ringwald’s work in Cindy Sherman’s Office Killer). So goes culture. I had a high school girlfriend in the mid-1980s who looked a lot like the actress, and she (the girlfriend) would spit with all the imperiousness and venom that only a 17 year old can summon, “Oh great, another movie with Molly Ring-worm.” Sorry, folks — doesn’t matter to me if you’re filthy, fractious Texas guttersnipes or ironical white kids from New Jersey. Susie E. from Berks County, PA, gets dibs on the name “Molly Ringworm,” now and forever.

Jonathan Shaw

Matt Robidoux — Music For Aluminum Corn (Crash Symbols)

music for aluminum corn by matt robidoux

Mills College may be shuttered, but its students carry on. Matt Robidoux combines symbolic and social action with accessible invention on Music For Aluminum Corn. The title derives from an instrument that the Mills graduate devised in homage to an early Buchla synthesizer that was kept at Mills. Essentially, they wired up an aluminum casting of two corn cobs to make a touch and movement-activated electronic instrument, and then called upon their fellow graduates to help him take it for a drive. A string quartet, a reed ensemble and the other instruments in Robidoux’s studio round out the sound palette, which is applied to a series of themes which, depending on their arrangement, sound like 1970s TV show themes, syndrum exotica and texture-oriented investigations. Robidoux’s electronic instrument proves more versatile than its novelty packaging might success, and the assembled crew play with a commitment to the endeavor that signals this heartening piece of news; while Mills College isn’t around anymore, the artistic community it fostered caries on.

Bill Meyer

Spiral Joy Band — Elvehjem (Feeding Tube)

Elvehjem by Spiral Joy Band

Without Saturn, you got no rings, right? It’s easy to see Spiral Joy Band as a similarly orbital entity, forever existing in relation to its parent band, Pelt. But, just as all those hunks of space rock would feel equally substantial if your rocket ship hit them whilst circling a planet or floating on their own through the galaxy, Spiral Joy Band has demonstrated on the recent archival recordings culled from its Wisconsin sojourn in the early 2010s, it has been its own thing, and that thing is pretty solid. Elvehjem is another album-length excerpt from Patrick Best, Mikel Dimmick and Troy Schafer’s trove of basement jams, and on this one, they assert an identity separate from Pelt. Sure, there’s plenty of long bell and gong tones, but there’s also some guitar and amp activity that’ll singe your whiskers with sheer crackle action.

Bill Meyer

Heleen Van Haegenborgh — Squaring The Circle (El Negocito)

Squaring the Circle by Heleen Van Haegenborgh

Sometimes, awareness of an artist’s inspiration will help you grasp their work. With Squaring The Circle, that’ll only get you so far. Squaring The Circle is Belgian composer Heleen Van Haegenborgh’s response to Johan De Widle’s Pi — Fugue pour les survivants, a graphic piece representing the number pi which is extended each year by its maker. While the mathematic foundation of this CD-length piece’s contents are hard to discern, their sounds just might give you a glimpse into the infinite. Performed by the composer and GAME, a percussion quartet, it combines the reverberant tones of drums, vibraphones, bells and other strikable metal objects with close-up, voltage-derived zaps. Even coming out of a home hi-fi, it creates a sense of ever-expanding space.

Bill Meyer

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