#issa smut fic

[naberiuz]

light of his life (fire in his loins) NSFW

Read on: AO3

“Does Light have any experience?” L whispers to his ear.

Light grits his teeth, seething. In another scenario, he would have admitted the truth. But this was L who held everything over his head, who makes Light feel inadequate, like he’s still just a child who needs to be gently guided through every single thing.

“Who do you take me for?” He replies irritably.

(In the most plain sense, Light loses his virginity to his boss.)

Thank you, off to the races by lovely_yellow_strawberry and (Not) According to Plan by FlamesRise for making a home in my brain.

I’m on that age gap, power imbalance, daddy kink lawlight grind bros. This shit is serious.

Massive thank you to Eli (astral_aphelion) for never giving up on me 😭

-

Light’s back slams on expensive oak doors. Had he been in his right mind, he would’ve voiced out a strong complaint at the rough treatment. But the tongue and teeth currently assaulting his neck deprived him from following through that line of thought.

Light Yagami, 22, is on a mission. He had been paid very generously by L’s business rival, Eraldo Coil, to dig up dirt on his boss. Any less than legal transaction, any unpleasant history, any petty mistake he could use to smear L’s pristine reputation. Light sincerely doubted Eraldo Coil would ever have enough to even put a smudge on L's name, but he’s got a bone to pick with his boss. 

His terribly unprofessional, inappropriate boss who never appreciates all the hard work he does. His boss who blatantly disregards etiquette and dress code, always running light ragged with insignificant tasks on top of his already demanding workload.

L, who is currently kissing him with a hunger so ravenous he might as well be devouring him.

If he could ruin the older man in some way, even just the slightest bit… then it’s worth it. He'll be paid as a nice bonus too.

He doesn’t know how it happens, but L manages to open the door behind him. Light tumbles backward, but he’s caught by L’s arm around his waist. It would have been a sweet gesture, had it not for L’s palm sliding over his ass cheek to grope him tightly. 

Light curses himself for his inebriation, having had too much wine to drink during his dinner with L. A date, he insisted. He entertained the older man’s request mostly because he knew something like this would happen.

Unfortunately for L, Light is good at multitasking. He starts making a quick note of his surroundings while L ravishes his throat. Sleek white marble floors, a huge Pollock painting hanging in the living space, towering bookcases. A home office to his right, where he could possibly start his digging while L is asleep.

He’s quickly distracted by L turning him around to hold him from behind, his back to the older man’s chest. And a very prominent bulge poking at his backside. L noses at his neck, pressing soft, little kisses.

“Does Light have any experience?” L whispers to his ear. His hands are already working on unbuttoning light’s shirt. The impatient bastard . “I wonder if Light will even be any good in bed?”

Light grits his teeth, seething. He’s had several casual flings. All of them wrapped around his pinky finger before he eventually cast them aside. He kissed them, touched them, promised them meaningless things, but Light couldn’t ever consider intercourse with any of them. It was something that felt too intimate, too exposing, and Light just wasn’t willing to give anyone that privilege.

In another scenario, he would have admitted his lack of experience. But this was L, who held everything over his head. Who makes Light feel inadequate, like he’s still just a child who needs to be gently guided through every single thing. Like he didn’t graduate top of class and continues to deliver exceptionally as L’s secretary. Light refuses to give him the satisfaction this time.

“Who do you take me for?” He replies irritably, digging his nails over L’s forearms as the older man worked through the last of the buttons.

“As expected of Light. Stellar in everything, even in bed. Surely I won’t be disappointed?” L teases, licking the shell of his ear.

Light couldn’t stop the shudder that wracked him, moaning lowly. “You—if anything, it’s you I’m worried about.” He fires back, fully intending it as an insult. 

L chuckles, turning him around to face him once more. Light should hate how he’s being manhandled like this.

“I do not claim to be experienced. Maybe Light could teach me?”

Light bites his lip. Instead of replying, he closes the gap between them, going for another deep kiss. L returns it just as fiercely, cupping his hands under Light’s butt and lifts. Light lets out a gasp, not expecting the sudden change, wrapping his legs around the other man’s hips.

L’s penthouse is huge and opulent, and Light wishes he had enough time to take all of it in. L tosses him on the bed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before turning around to rummage around his drawers. Light takes that moment to appreciate the king-sized bed and the floor to length windows showcasing a view of Tokyo's nightscape. His disheveled reflection looks back at him, dotted by twinkling neon lights from the city below.

He brings his gaze back to the other man. L lazily pops the buttons of his shirt, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

It infuriates Light. 

L moves so slowly, eyes trained on him, like a predator who had cornered his prey. Just moments away from claiming his prize.

Light sits up to shake off his already unbuttoned shirt, then removes his pants with as much grace as he could muster despite the tremor in his hands. He meets L‘s gaze the entire time, who just watches him appreciatively. His very pale, toned body almost looks glowing under the moonlight.

“Such a beautiful boy.” L murmurs, crawling forward to bracket Light’s body with his arms. “So delightful. Like strawberry shortcake.”

Light rolls his eyes at the corny expression. He runs a hand over the other man’s chest, then tries to push the other to lay down. But L doesn’t budge.

Instead, L pushes his shoulders flush on the bed, and settles himself between Light’s legs.

Light’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. This position is—

“I can’t wait to finally have you.” L says softly, almost like prayer. “You have no idea how much I’ve pictured you laying on my sheets.”

Light’s breath hitches. He couldn’t think of a response, pressing his lips together and turning his head to the side. His face burns from the confession. He shouldn’t be surprised, he knows he’s objectively very attractive. Not even L has the immunity to his charm. But for the older man to admit it so easily…

“Shy?” L has that teasing lilt on his voice again. He runs both hands along Light’s thighs, before catching his fingers on the waistband of his underwear. Light tenses, before forcefully willing himself to relax as L rolls it off his ankles.

Light feels self conscious under L’s shameless staring. He resists the urge to curl around himself. Instead, he raises a brow at the other. “What are you waiting for?” He challenges.

L hums appreciatively before smirking at the younger man, eyes glinting.

“Spread your legs for me, Light.”

Light felt the back of his ears run hot at the order. How dare he, demanding him to expose himself like some whore . He bites his lip in humiliation. Slowly, hesitantly, he spreads his legs, while L religiously watches each motion.

“Gorgeous…” L exhales out breathlessly, hands coming up at the back of Light’s knees to push his thighs further apart. He reaches for Light’s hand, trailing kisses to his knuckles, his palm, his wrist. “You’re perfect. But you know that, right?”

Light swallows, looking at his hand over L’s, unable to maintain meeting the older man’s gaze. Something unfamiliar blooms in his chest, spreading to his belly.

L reaches behind him to pick up a bottle of lube. Light waits with bated breath as L slicks two of his fingers, before pressing up one to his hole.

It feels…weird. It didn’t feel too unpleasant, or perhaps he was expecting more pain. Light chews on his lip, while L gazes at him from above, smiling. 

“You are clean, aren’t you?”

Light huffs at the ridiculous question. “Of course.” He’s never had anything down there.

L hums in approval, pressing a second finger, and this time, Light tenses in discomfort. A twinge of pain shoots up his spine, making his eyes scrunch.

“Has it been a while for Light?” The older man asks, pumping his fingers into Light purposefully. The younger man only sniffs and turns his head away, trying to steady his breathing while the older man fucks him open.

Inside L’s brain, a theory starts to form. Something doesn’t feel right…

L is not a nice man, so he pushes a third finger in without warning. The resulting gasp and tightening of Light’s hole was expected and delightful. Light grabs at his wrist, trying to slow his hand. 

“L--wait please—“ Light stutters, eyes pinched and wet with growing tears. L takes pity, slowing down to allow him to adjust. He pushes all three to the knuckle and waits, idly rubbing inside Light’s walls.

The younger man looks so out of breath just from his fingers. L watches him closely, the minute twitches on Light’s eyelids, the tightening of his jaw, the quick rising and falling of his chest.

He presses a feather-light kiss on Light’s cheek, whispering. “You’re doing so good baby, just a bit more”. Light sends him a heated glare before exhaling deeply.

L draws his fingers out and plunges in again, seeking with a purpose. 

Light jolts with a high pitched yelp. 

Right there.

L wastes no time to jab at Light’s prostate, mean fingers bullying past the resistance of the younger man’s hole. Light is wound so tight, fearing for his mind as all thoughts dissolve from his brain, neurons working in overdrive to make sense of the intense pleasure he was feeling.

“I can’t wait to get in you. Stuff you full of my cock. Wouldn’t you like that?” L punctuates his words with his fingers, still hitting that accursed spot inside him. Light keens in reply, back arching off L’s high thread count sheets.

Stupid, stupid old man. How dare he talk to him using such crass words. Once they’re through, he’ll make sure L won’t be able to bear the shame of humiliation once Light exposes whatever dirty secret he has.

Suddenly, L withdraws his fingers out, giving Light a moment of reprieve. He relaxes bonelessly on the bed, groaning in relief. He dimly registers the sound of latex as L puts a condom on. 

But L, the bastard, is not allowing him to rest. He places his hands on the back of Light’s knees, pushing his thighs flush against his shoulders. He lets go of one to position himself against Light.

Light could only watch as the tip of L’s cock kissed his rim, trepidation coursing through his veins. It looked so thick, how was that going to fit inside h—

L’s cock breaches past his rim, and he’s seizing up, tightening involuntarily. There was no way he could have prevented the loud yelp that escaped from his throat. L keeps pushing in, groaning lowly, sinking inch by inch into Light’s warmth. Instinctively, he tries to pull away, trying to move his hips, but L only wraps his arms around his waist to pull him closer, shushing him with an apologetic kiss to his calf.

Light feels so full, like all his breath got punched out of his gut. L is not small by any means, and he’s in so deep and Light couldn’t even form a single thought. Desperately he tries to get used to the older man’s girth, but he has no idea on what he should do. 

“So tight…” L groans out breathlessly. Light thought that was the end of it, until L snapped his hips and truly, bottomed out inside him. Light let out a choked cry, nails digging on L’s back, taking in shallow gulps of air. 

L draws out slowly, noticing how Light breathed much easier as he pulled more of his length out, the younger relaxing considerably once only the tip of his cock is left.

L chuckles lowly.

He thrusts back without warning, roughly shoving his cock back inside Light’s tight little hole. Light shouts in surprise, before biting his lip in embarrassment. It’s a pitiful attempt to silence his whimpers. 

“What’s the matter, darling?” L talks through each brutal thrust he makes. “Your previous partners too small compared to me?” Light shakes his head with a sob, screwing his eyes shut. The tears that have been gathering in his eyes spill over from the action.

L falters in his movements, as if compelled by the image. Right here, on L’s king-sized bed, Light looked like the very definition of an angel.

He makes a point to drive his cock all the way in and pushes Light’s hips down, preventing him from squirming. Making him take all of his cock properly like a good boy.

He leans in to whisper to the younger’s ear. “Or because it’s the first time you’ve had a cock up your little cunt?” 

He watches as Light slowly opens his eyes, anger showing past the tears. Light squirms in discomfort, trying to push at L’s shoulders. Damn it, damn you L. Light wants to spit endless scathing words to his face.

“Answer me, Light.” He asks again, punctuating his words with a roll of his hips. The younger presses his mouth in a thin line, no doubt trying to stop all the vitriol he's been keeping from L. Light glares at him through bleary eyes. Not trusting his own voice, he nods. 

L tuts, like he’s reprimanding a child. “Use your words.” He says, tone firm.

He watches in amusement as Light grits his teeth before answering. “Y-yes.” He confesses, shamed. “I’ve never done this before”.

So fucking perfect . “There we go. Was that so hard?” L chides condescendingly. He withdraws his hips again, intent to resume the rough pace he had set prior. He wraps his arms around Light’s lower back and fucks into Light’s virgin hole.

Light throws his head back, moaning loudly, no longer trying to keep quiet. He sounds so heavenly to L, looking like a dream with his wet lashes and tear tracks on his cheeks. And L can’t, can never get enough. He cups his hands around light’s ass cheeks and lifts, yanking him towards his cock in time with his thrusts, fucking him like he’s a toy to be used.

“You take me so well. You love this, don't you?” L growls at him, but Light couldn’t respond through the thousands of lightning bolts coursing through his body. L is fucking him so deeply and thoroughly, Light swears he’s rearranging his guts, molding his body to fit around him perfectly. He can’t decide if it hurt or felt good, unable to even open his eyes to glare at the other.

L thrusts at a particular angle, and Light seizes up so violently he’s scared something snapped in his brain. He’s unaware of how loud he was being. He’s completely at L’s mercy as the older man keeps thrusting, relentlessly chasing his own release, Light’s melodious wails stirring him on like mersong.

“Light, baby, you feel so good—” L grunts out,  pistoning with wild abandon. He seeks Light’s hand again and presses a searing kiss on his palm, intertwining their hands together.

“L! A-Ahn please! Please I—“

Light cries out in pure ecstasy, coming untouched, brought to his release purely by L’s cock. L’s thrusts lose their rhythm and finally he too comes with a loud groan, seating himself fully inside Light.

They lay unmoving for several moments, catching their breaths. L peppers him sweet kisses, on his temple, his cheek, the corner of his lip. 

“Good boy.” He praises him softly. Light whimpers weakly in response.

Light whines as L pulls out, feeling the cold air on his poor, gaping hole. It takes him a few seconds to notice the slick cum that drips out of him and into the sheets.

Fuck. The condom broke.

But Light is too wrung out to care, flopping his head back on the sheets to try and gather his bearings. Shit, how did all of this happen? What was he even doing here?

L removes the useless latex off his cock and settles behind Light to wrap his arms around his waist. They lay there for a couple of minutes, resting and basking in the aftermath. Light is on the brink of falling asleep when the older man’s next words jolt him back to consciousness.

“How much did he pay you?” L whispers to his ear. He enjoys the feeling of Light tensing in controlled panic. He rubs soothing circles on Light’s stomach with his thumb.

Light bites his lip in contemplation. L didn’t seem to be angry, judging by the gentleness of his touch. And he figures there’s no use trying to get out of this mess. What could he even possibly do?

He breathes a sigh through his nose.

“Fifteen million yen.” 

Behind him, L scoffs in offense. He can feel him shake his head in amusement. 

“Only? That bastard is a cheapskate.” L moves closer to press a kiss to Light’s shoulder. Already, his hands are traveling down Light’s body, caressing the inside of his thighs.

“You will cut contact with him, understand?” L says plainly, mundanely, like he’s stating a well known fact. It’s not an order, because he knows the younger will agree to everything he says.

“I will.” Light mumbles.

L lifts his thigh, and Light groans helplessly as L buries himself to the hilt once more, jostling the leftover cum still inside. He thrusts his hardening cock a few times, the sounds coming out of Light’s hole sounding so obscene as L pushes more of the cum out of his abused hole.

“If it’s extra compensation you want, you need only ask.”

Light moans his assent, letting the older man manhandle him as he pleases. He voices no complaint as the older man takes him again, ass up and cheek pressed on the sheets.

Light never stood a chance, not even once.

-

Please pay respects to Light's poor bum :'(

I'm naberiuztwt on twt. Say hi

If you are deranged about Seme L+Uke Light (like you have low tolerance over the reverse, no switch), leave a comment or message me on my socials. I’ll let you in our discord server hehe.

[madame-fear]

Brain rot of Jace practicing high valyrian on ur clit🫶🫶🫶🫶that’s it ily!!!!

꒰ 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐍 | 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄. ꒱

˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : request above. ♡ (I hope you enjoy this, nonnie, ilyt!!) ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 469.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : smut, drabble. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x (fem!)Reader

WARNING.ᐟ THIS FIC CONTAINS ; slight profanity, slight praising, cunnilingus/oral sex (f receiving).

→ click here if you want to request a drabble for my followers milestone celebration! drabbles open from February 14th, to March 1st.

“Ao sylutegon sīr sȳz,” (you taste so sweet.)

A reddish hue began forming on your thighs, along the marks of Jace’s fingers gripping them firmly, spreading your legs wide as his face was buried betweem your legs - his mouth overabusing your sensitive clit, as his fingers teasingly moved in and out of your entrance.

It had been a good idea, to tell Jace just how much you adored hearing him talk in High Valyrian. Perhaps he wasn’t yet properly good at it, but you were still delighted in having him practice with you. And what better idea he had, than to practice High Valyrian and eat you out all at once? Not only it was something that pleasured him, but overall it was a different type of experience that he knew you’d enjoy; and the eldest Velaryon was right.

“Fuck,” with soft pleas that escaped continously from your partly open lips, your hand found it’s way to his brunette hair, interwining your fingers on several strands and unconsciously burying his head deeper into your moist, stimulated pussy; moving your hips forwards to give him better access. “Iksā iā olvie sȳz riña, issi ao daor?” (you are such a good girl, aren’t you?) a proud grin grew at the corner of his plump lips, feeling his panting breath hit against your nub, increasing the speed of his fingers fucking you.

Wetness oozed from your cunt, coating his fingers, as his mouth occasionally drank from your own cum. “Kesan qogralbar ao tolvie tubis hae bisa, issa jorrāelagon.” (I will fuck you everyday just like this, my love). Your fingers gripped desperately from his hair, as his tongue flicked ravenously on your slick-coated folds, until his mouth found his way to nibble on your clit once again. A loud groan escaped deep from your throat, throwing your head back as a knot formed on your stomach, anticipating your release.

Briefly, his coffee eyes moved to stare at your expressions, taking pride in himself for how ruined he managed to get you - having you panting and begging for more. “Keep... Keep going,” you weakly encouraged, barely being able to form a coherent sentence, at the feeling of him stopping for a few seconds. He scoffed, widely grinning, as he lowered his face one again, placing gentle pecks all over your folds and slowly moving his fingers inside of you. “Ao hae ziry skori gaoman ziry hae bisa, gaomagon ao daor?” (you like it when I do it like this, don’t you?) he muttered, using his tongue to lap at your own fluids, that violently flowed out of you.

“Kostan hae sȳrī gaomagon bisa tolī jēdi lēda ao,” (I might as well do this more often with you), the eldest Velaryon whispered against your edging cunt, “Eminna jeme bantis mirre syt nyke, issa dōna.”

♡ taglist : ♡

@damatheirin @jacesvelaryons @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @feliuuuksks @visenya-reigned @maria699669 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

adam designated driver

intoxicated!readerxcaretaker!adam

a/n: adam driver is maybe like the love of my life I hope he reads well. this is also an older fic but maybe 2020-ish?

wc: 2.3k

18+ MDNI | no smut but sexual themes

summary: Y/N went out and had a few too many, when trying to call a taxi driver, she taps her friend adam's contact instead.

"Can I get a whiskey sour?!"You managed to shout over the pulsating bass.

The bartender nodded, turning around to grab the bottles he needed. 

He was in his mid-twenties, sporting a thick beard and jewelry: trendy black stretchers, multiple rings on his fingers, and bead bracelets that swung from his wrists as he shook the shaker vigorously.

You observed his rings up close as slid your fifth drink of the night in front of you.  You shouted a 'thank you' and passed him the money. The chilled glass froze your palm as you grabbed it. You winced hissed.

You were already intoxicated, which resulted in you feeling warmer than usual. You began to drink your cocktail, wincing from the prominent bourbon taste hitting your tongue. 

Turning to the dance floor on your bar stool, you observed your friends dancing provocatively in front of the men.

They would grind on each other and kiss for the sake of attention as if their clothing alone wouldn't draw attention, and it would work every time. Men who were complete strangers would buy you and your friends multiple rounds throughout the night hoping to get lucky.

Tonight, you all wore matching tight-fitted black mini skirts and tops that barely covered your chest. Your outfit in question was uncomfortable, to say the least, but it was like wearing a costume. When you'd dress like that, it was as if you were a new person, for one night. You immediately gained a newfound confidence and your adventurous side would come out to play.

You grinned against your glass, chuckling to yourself.

How you loved being a woman.

You scootch off the seat, stumbling, trying to find your footing. Your sense of balance was terrible when you were drunk and your heels did not help with that at the moment. 

Eventually, you made your way to your friends on the dance floor, joining the small circle to include yourself again.

"Y/N! There you are, I missed you!" Your little blonde friend threw herself on you. You caught her in your arms, laughing. 

The six of you danced to the beat. Hips swaying, arms in the air, hair flying everywhere. You could feel the blood pumping through your veins, and sweat forming on your forehead, but you didn't care you were having so much fun.

our arms were raised in a state of intoxicated freedom as you tried to keep up with your friends, whose energy seemed endless.

Your fingertips tingled as you waved your hands to the rhythm, and your feet grew numb from the constant stomping.

Your head felt heavy on your neck, and your eyelids became harder to keep open. You were running out of breath.

Your movements turned sloppy as your body began to fatigue, even though your mind insisted you had more energy than you actually did. Your chest heaved, struggling to breathe in the tight top.

A couple hours went by and the club slowly began to empty out as people left in small crowds. The night was approaching its end. 

You were seated in a booth with fewer friends, all of you trying to call your drives home.

Your vision was blurry as you fiddled with your phone, trying to hold it properly.

The aggressive blue light blinded you. You squinted, opening your contacts app.

A few scrolls down and you found your usual Taxi Driver's phone number.

You pressed it, bringing your phone close to your ear. The ringing echoed loudly in your ears as you drunkenly awaited a response. He finally answered. 

"Ugh-mkay, uh I'm at thuh Sound Night Club.... on Las Palmas, can you cohme get me? I'm fuckhing drunhk." You slurred into the phone mic.

After a few exchanges, you hung up. "Welp ladies, my taxi issa comin soon so I gotta wait outside." You stood, steadying yourself on the table. You draped your jacket over your shoulders, clinging your wallet and phone to your chest. You gave them each a kiss on the cheek and said your goodbyes. 

Your heels padded on the tacky red carpet as you slowly made your way to the entrance. Before leaving you wished the bouncer a good night. "It's not my birthday, but thank you." He replied. You just smiled, confused. 

You pushed the heavy doors open, only to be greeted with a freezing gust of air. Your exposed legs were now covered in chills. The street lights illuminated your flushed cheeks; how nice. You leaned your back against the club's brick wall and waited for your Taxi. 

A shiny black Camaro pulled up to the curb, flashing its lights and honking its horn. You stayed put, wondering whose ride it was. It then honked again.

You just observed silently. 

The driver's door opened and a tall dark man rose from the car. "Y/N?" He shouted. You jumped slightly. This wasn't your taxi driver: You wondered who the man was, and how he knew your name.

Fucking trouble, that's who.

The unknown man was shouting your name. You looked around to see if anyone else was outside that you could ask for help; not one.

Fuck it, you thought.

You took a run for it, your cheap heels clicking on the cement sidewalks, and you gripped all of your belongings as if your life depended on it, and at that moment it did. 

The streets of Los Angeles were dangerous at this time of night, and you were the desired victim; a drunk, helpless, pretty girl in slutty clothing.

So much for being a woman!

The cold air breezed through your product-filled hair as you ran down an alley, only to be cornered by the car again.

You stopped in your tracks, shocked. Your heart pounded in your ears and your mouth was now dryer than a desert. You couldn't find your voice to yell for help.

The man got out again and started running after you, leaving his door open. The car lights blinded you, you could only see his tall shadow approaching you, quickly.

You once again tried to make a run for it but your heel fell through a manhole cover. You rolled your ankle and fell to your knees, your full weight hitting the solid pavement. You groaned in pain. The man rushed to your sides, as you cried on your hands and knees.

This was the end.

"Y/N! What were you thinking? You could've gotten seriously hurt! You could've gotten hit by a fucking car!!" The familiar voice gritted with rage. You lifted your head trying to identify this strange individual's face, only to reveal the face of your friend, Adam. 

"Adam? Why the fuhhck are yohu trying to kidhnap me for?" You slurred, trying to push away from his grip. "Kidnap? What? -Y/N, you called me from the club asking me to pick you up." He raised an angry eyebrow. 

You just broke down in tears, feeling lost and confused.

"You're too drunk." He grumbled, shaking his head.

"nO, I called, Denis. My usual taxi." You squinted, pulling out your phone to show him. Adam plucked the phone from your grasp and examined the phone.

"Y/N, it says Driver. Driver, Adam." He sighed impatiently.

"Oh, well, i swearr thaht I actually talked to hi-WOah!" Adam had cut you off by picking you up bridal style from the ground.

"Let me down!" You attempted to squirm but your lack of energy or control didn't allow you to do so.

"No, Y/N. You hurt your ankle. Now stop whining and let me take care of you. It's late- It's 4 in the fucking morning and you're acting like a child." He knelt down to grab your jacket that was at his feet and proceeded to place you on the passenger side of his car.

He then resumed his place at the wheel and sped off to his apartment. His car hummed loudly down the silent streets.

During the drive, you were quiet, your scraped knees were pulled to your chest and you faced your window, observing the lights that flashed by as Adam sped through the neighbourhood. 

You began to feel your soberness again because all the adrenaline was gone and the pain was now settling in.

Adam pulled into the parking garage and stopped the car in his usual spot. He turned off his vehicle and picked you up once more, this time with less anger. You toyed with the collar of his shirt as he carried you to his door. He had so many birthmarks on his neck.

Arriving at 11B, he managed to unlock and kick his door open. He used his elbows to switch on the lights and laid you on the grey sofa. 

"Do you need anything? Some pants, another shirt? Socks?" He spoke on top of you, trying to keep you awake.

"This outfit is too tight, Adamhm, can I borrow some long socks and one of your T-shirts?" You breathed out, with your eyes closed. Your head felt heavy against the firm couch pillow, it's like you were sinking in quicksand.

"I'll be right back." He said. 

You peeked an eye open to observe his apartment decor. It was minimalistic, with tones of light greys, topes and whites. Indie artists covered his walls, and colourful woven rugs were sprawled across the floor. He had lots of books on his shelf in the corner, you propped yourself up and dragged your feet to the library dizzily.

Poetry.

 Adam had lots of notorious poets in his collection.

He returned shortly.

"Here you go. Are you sure you don't want some shorts or sweatpants? They have drawstrings, so you can tighten it as much as you want." He placed the clothing on the oak coffee table that you were now making your way to. 

"I'm sure... thank you, Adam." You smiled unzipping your painfully tight top, exposing your red push-up bra. Adam's eyes diverted to the floor, he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"If you need anything else, I'll be upstairs in my bedroom. It's the first door on your left." He turned to leave. 

"Wait, Adam!" You let the top fall to your feet.

"Yes?" He turned around, making only eye contact, trying to not observe your figure.

"You have poetry books in your library." You said, sliding your skirt off, leaving you in only your matching lace undergarments. 

Adam controlled his breathing. 

"I do, I do, uh, do you read lots of... poetry?" He asked leaning against his living room door frame.

"I actually used to write some and read them at open mic nights." You smiled, unclipping your bra swiftly, allowing your breasts to bounce out of your bra.

"Much better," You muttered.

"I-I uh, I didn't know that." He bit the inside of his cheek, face remaining unreadable. He crossed his muscular arms over his chest and fixed his posture. You could hear his foot tapping the floor, and you could sense uneasiness in him.

Oh?

Casually, you let the bra fall, like your top, and slid on his grey Star Wars t-shirt that he probably had received from a fan.

Adam was not one to watch let alone buy merchandise from his own projects. The Kylo graphic tee looked cute on you, it ended mid-thigh and wasn't too wide.

"I still write sometimes, but not as much as I'd like to, you know? What about you, do you write?" You sat on the low coffee table, knowing well, that Adam was struggling to keep his composure and slid on his long black socks that went up to your knees. 

"I do, but I don't think that it's good." He chuckled, trying to seem less awkward. You simply smiled at the statement and found your place on the couch. 

"um- you need some water and aspirin, I'll go get that for you." He said and walked out of the room, his heavy footsteps thumped on the creaky wooden floors. 

In one hand he had a big glass of iced water, and in the other, he had two tiny pills. "Thank you," you mumbled tiredly, washing down the medicine with water. "Need anything else?" He asked glancing at the time: 4:52 AM.

"No, I'll be fine, thank you, Adam. For everything. It's really appreciated. Also, I'm sorry for earlier, I thought you were trying to hurt me, it was dumb." You looked down at the glass that you held in your lap, in embarrassment. 

"You are...welcomed." He gave you a small close-mouthed smile before shutting off the lights and going upstairs to his own bed.

You tossed and turned on that shitty sofa. It was small compared to your bed at home and the throw blanket was too thin for your liking, you really wished you would've taken up that offer on the sweatpants. 

"Ugh, fuck it." You groaned, now fully sober and exhausted. 

You quietly got up and proceeded to make your way upstairs to the first bedroom on the left. You turned the doorknob slowly and pushed it even slower to avoid making any noise. You saw that his bedside light was on, and you could make out faint clicking noises. When you fully opened the door, you were happy to be greeted by Adam sitting shirtless in bed, typing on his computer. 

"Hi." You quietly spoke. 

He lifted his chin and met your eyes with his brown ones. "Hi." He gave you a toothy smile. 

"Can't sleep either?" You asked, padding towards his gigantic bed. "No, not really." He chuckled closing his laptop and placing it on his bedside table.

You sat on the foot of his bed, observing his thick chest and shoulders. He was a very attractive man, very large, he looked soft. You bit your lip at the thought.

"Come." He lifted the covers from the unoccupied side of the bed and tapped the mattress like when prompting a dog or cat to come sit next to you.

You obeyed and got under the covers next to him, already feeling his warmth.

You hummed in delight as he turned off the lamp. Adam laid on his side, facing you. You did the same, trying to focus your eyes on his face through the new darkness. 

He let out a tired sigh and without warning, he pulled your whole body forward. Your head was buried in his chest, his bicep supported your neck, and his other arm rubbed your back.

"Sleep, or you'll get sick tomorrow morning. "

You smiled and inhaled the scented body wash he used. You absent-mindedly pressed a kiss to his chest, making him hum lovingly.

A moment of thinking passed and he then tipped your head back, to place a long tender kiss on your lips. You returned the kiss, feeling his plump lips against yours in delight, sending butterflies in your stomach.

After, you returned to his chest and he placed another kiss on your forehead, drifting you slowly to sleep. 

oh adam, i'd die for you

[ramp-it-up]

I love it!

TYSM for reading and sharing! ❤️

Doctor and Mr. Cavill

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Veterinarian!Reader

Word Count: 5.9K 😓.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. SMUT, Explicit description of graphic sex. Read at your own risk. Dog in distress. Angst, pining, flirting, nerd activities, Marvel vs. DC, brat behavior, dirty talk, size kink, oral sex, raw p in v (wrap before you tap) pulling out, cum play. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is in response to an ask from @notmyfault404 about Kal’s favorite Veterinarian, nerd activities and Henry. This story sucked me in. Let me know if you liked it!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

The film production came to town at the end of summer, buying the now defunct airport for a production studio and moving scores of staff into town. The uptick in your business was the first indication that your life was going to change. 

Keep reading

[lillyfics]

Soaring through the Skies || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: The trials and tribulations in the journey of your love with Aemond.

PLS!!! READ AUTHOR'S NOTE UNTIL " :) " IF YOU DON'T WANT THE ENDING OF THE SERIES TO BE SPOILED!!!

Author's Note: This is literally my first ever fic so don't be too harsh :) The only reason I am writing this fic is that I have read too much Aemond x reader fics where he cheats on with Alys and there is no happy ending for the reader. Like why does every fic I read with that topic just breaks my heart :((( Anyway I decided to write a similar story where the reader gets as close to a happy ending as possible :)

Chapter 1 is a lot of characterization and very little plot :-))

TW: swearing, sexual violence, angst, heartbreak, violence, child death, infidelity, death, references to smut

Chapter 1 (WC: 2159)

His eyes enchant you. After all those years spent at Dragonstone, you thought you would forget what it felt like to be in his presence. But at that moment, when his eyes met yours at the training ground, you felt yourself sucked back into the whirlpool of emotions with an even greater force. Initially, you thought you were the only one whose heart was stuck in a storm, but you later learned that Aemond’s heart was in a similar situation too. During the courting period, he confessed about the love he held for you too. At that time, you felt warmth. You allowed yourself to hope that someone would keep you afloat. But now, you were mortified and nearly ran back to the castle and kept yourself busy under the guise of preparing yourself for the petition. Your sisters kept prodding you about your nerves, but they thought it was just jitters about being back in court. Your father, the rogue prince, was the only one who noticed your unease, but kept silent. There are many things you love about your father, but you believe that his best quality was his ability to understand you. Growing up without a mother, he was your sole guiding lamp in the dark abyss that the world is. But he also didn’t believe in commanding you your every step in life, as he once said “One day you will fly on your own issa tala, and I wouldn’t be able to be there when you are soaring the skies.” He also reminded you that you are the Lady of Runestone and one day you would be a queen in your own right.  Knowing that interrogating you would do no good, he just left you alone to your thoughts and knew that would come to him when in need of help.

With everything that was happening, you couldn’t think Vaemond Velaryon’s petition could get worse, but as every minute grows you are proven wrong. It finally ended when half of his head rolled on the floor, courtesy of your father. This day was a strenuous one, and not just for you. Just when you thought everything was resolved the day has had its fill of surprises, the king commanded a betrothal. A betrothal between you and Aemond. While your eyes were filled with shock, his were…blank. It held nothing. The wedding was to happen in two weeks, in an effort to elongate the period of peace between the green queen and the heir to the iron throne you guess.

Began the courting period, spinning with emotions. You were just learning to spread your wings, you can’t fly yet. Your time had been cut short by a person who did not know you, nor care enough about what you felt and saw you just as a piece in this grand game of cyvasse. You also understand that as piece, you are not one of those that commanded, but one of those that served. Knowing that conflicting with this choice would bring you nothing but trouble, you moved forward to acceptance. This is what it is. A habit your father tried to break you out of. He believed that we are a true pair of father and child in the way we had similar flames stoking us. The way your cunningness seared through you that made you capable of outsmarting your siblings. The way determination gilded you to achieve a task that your mind commands you to. The only flaw of yours is acceptance.

Then the period of courting begins. The fact it is even called that makes your stomach ache with laughter. A courting with no choice you believed to be. During this period, you go through a plethora of phases. After the initial shock to acceptance stage, curiosity won over. Curious about Aemond. You remembered that his eyes were devoid of emotion. Is that how he felt? Nothingness? Just a duty? You think you could live with that. Duty could sprout into comfort and then transform into love. Yet, doubts persisted. What if instead of indifference, he was against the betrothal? Did he have another love? Did he think you weren’t beautiful enough? Did he think you to be timid? You tried to make content with these doubts so that you wouldn’t be troubled in the head. If he had another love, there was no way she could hold up to you, as you are the Lady of Runestone and he, a mere second son. Aemond was anything but ambitious, someone who would seek to increase his standing. The only way his legacy would ever be part of this great game were if his heirs were to be from a powerful woman, and you are anything but not that. After the Queen, the Princess of Dragonstone, and the Lady Jeyne Arryn of the Vale, you were one of the women in power. Or you would be one, in the future. If concern is regarding your beauty, he is more than lucky enough to have you, the entire realm would agree on that as you were deemed a beauty by both Valyrian, First Men, and the Andals’ standards. Your mixture of Royce and Targaryen blood gave you your unique features, sought upon by the entirety of the kingdom much to both your father’s pride and displeasure. On the other side, he was known as the accursed prince with one-eye, deemed scornful to be gazed upon. Yet, you never thought it that way. In your eyes, Aemond was nothing less than one of the most beautiful Valyrian gods to stroll through the realm. Even the juxtaposition of his one violet eye and one sapphire eye entices you. In theory, the mixture of your blood should be blessed with the most gorgeous babes. That is what you once dreamed of, with childish hopes. Now, uncertainty plagues you. You still don’t know how Aemond feels about the betrothal since you have yet to have a conversation with him. Even the queen and the princess are radiating happiness together as they divulge themselves in wedding planning and are genuinely positive regarding this union. Your personal opinion is that this wedding is just their excuse to spend time together. Regardless, Rhaenyra has loved you like her own and Aemond was Alicent’s favourite, so they want nothing but the best for this ceremony. From your brief interaction with Otto Hightower, you learn that even he seems to be in high spirits regarding this union. Why wouldn’t he be? The ambitious man would be joyful about gaining access to the Vale. The only ones that aren’t happy are your siblings and your father, but they have their reasons, and you couldn’t judge them for it. You will also eventually learn that their disappointment is for reasons different than you have in your mind.

As the first week comes to an end, you have your dress, venue, and acquaintance with Helaena, Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor in order. Satisfaction fills you, but not enough to completely ease you. In that evening as heirlooms from Runestone finally start arriving, realization strikes you which makes you storm out to the weirwood tree. The stunning colors of the garden would usually calm you, but now nothing stops the quiet sobs that spill out of you. You never liked not knowing the future. You always carved your path. First it was the king, now it was Aemond. Lost in your misery, you sat down with hands covering your knees, staring into nothingness, as teardrops roll down your cheeks. “Are you really that miserable at the prospect of being tied to me?” Not a single whisper escaped your mouth, as you were still in the haze of surprise. You just looked at him. With no answer, Aemond made a choice and decided to take a seat close to you, almost touching you but not. “I thought you were the one who didn’t want to share your life with me”, you tried to say mirthfully, but combined with your doubtfulness it almost came out as a wince. Aemond was staggered by your response. He talked. You talked. He smiled. You smiled. This continued until the sun completely set and only the silent rustles of the leaves and the soft exhales of both of could be heard. You are now hand in hand with him, and everything is eerily calm. The calmness you hope that death would grace you with when its your time. Eventually, you were startled out of your calmness due to a rumble. Aemond looked sheepish and stated that the last meal he had was lunch and he just finished training a few minutes before he saw you by the weirwood tree. Now together, you both enter the dining hall. You also know now everything is fine. Everything will be fine.

In a week, you and Aemond grow closer. Spoke of both of your ambitions, your desires, your wishes. Even before interacting much, you knew Aemond would be a perfect co-ruler when you will eventually move to Runestone in a few years. His knowledge of history and philosophy, his commandeering outlook, and his excellent swordsmanship are qualities that would make him a wonderful consort. Ruling Runestone was something that you were less than confident about. You knew you were a just person, yet you doubted how perfect your capabilities would be. With Aemond by your side, you knew you would enrich the Vale.

As time grew closer to the wedding, you became more comfortable. At your happiness, your siblings also started displaying their happiness. While Lucerys and Rhaena were not a fan of the groom, they were able to understand that I was happy, and that makes them happy too. Even little Aegon and Viserys couldn’t stop beaming at being surrounded by festivities. It seems that everyone in the court were combusting with glee. Well everyone, except Jace and Baela. Their hatred of the groom outweighs the happiness you felt it seems. Aemond didn’t like them either, so you never bothered trying to fix that relationship. Aemond even seems to be more possessive of you in presence of Jace, almost growling when you were seen proximal to Jace. “You don’t know the way he looks at you my love.” You simply ignored the comment, thinking that Aemond’s past grudges were making him paranoid. Once again, you were proven wrong. While you and Jace are having a private conversation in your solar, probably one of your last of these kind of talks until he becomes king it seems. You couldn’t control your smiles as you reminiscent on memories of the past until Jace suddenly leaned across and kissed you. Pin drop silence spread across the chambers until Jace spoke these words “I have fallen in love with you, I am still in love with you, and I know it would be for my best to move on but I don’t think I ever will”. Still, you haven’t uttered a single word, just stared back at him. He eventually leaves the chambers, and unknown to you, that will be the very last conversation you will ever have with each other. You would be left wishing that you said something. Anything really. Anything but the empty silence so that your last memory of him could be filled with something other than guilt and regrets. The evening before the wedding, Baela helps you prepare for the celebratory dinner. Your eyes meet at the mirror. One look into her eyes lets you know that she knows. She also is aware that you know. Guilt racked through you once you realized that she wasn’t even angry with you, she understands. She is aware that she is going to face the condition that you once thought you would be the victim of. Duty instead of love. She finished fixing your hair and you turned around. You hugged her. She hugged you back. Few stray tears escaped. In the end, you are both sisters. In the end, both of you are women who have no control of their fates in the grand game of life. However, in the end, you are both dragons. You are both daughters of the rogue prince.

The wedding went without a hitch. Despite the convoluted feelings of everyone in the sept, at the exact moment your eyes meet his, yours evaporate away. The wedding was devotional. The feast was grandiose. The wedding night was…the wedding night was happy. You weren’t previously aware that happy was ever a word to describe such event but that is what you felt. Happiness. Pure bliss. You and Aemond made love. Giggled like children, made love like long lost lovers, even fed a shew tears like you were looking at a tragedy. When you woke up the next morning, you were filled with joy at the possibility that you would wake up like this every morning for the rest of your life. You could only dream.

High Valyrian Translations:

Issa tala- my daughter

[littledollll]

I’m not sure if you are taking requests but you are one of my favorite Lucifer and Larissa writers.

I want to request a Larissa/fem!outcast!reader hurt/comfort fic where the reader doesn’t enjoy penetration(it don’t feel pleasurable) and is scared to tell Larissa bc she doesn’t want her to think she’s a freak. Maybe when they finally do have sex, Larissa penetrates her and instead of telling her the reader just lets it happen and tries to get off but can’t and gets really frustrated. Larissa notices, stops and tries to get her to talk but instead the reader gets embarrassed and emotional. Insert heart to heart conversation here and cute fluffy smut after. Maybe a bit of softdom!larissa, some praise and overstim.

If you aren’t taking requests or don’t want to do this then thank for taking the time to read this

Your pleasure is mine

Larissa Weems x reader

A/n: guess who wrote half way through this high as shit! this is a mix of requests,

Extra request: “Could you write a fic about R loser her virginity for the first time with Larissa and Larissa is being really gentle and taking care of her afterwards” - @maximilfslay

Warnings: praise, begging, kinda humiliation, slight overstim, brief fingering, hickeys

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“Issa?” you said in a quiet tone, and she responded with a hum. You were laid between her legs, you back to her front, as you both soaked in all the comfort and care in the world, she was busying herself with reading with you just happy to be in her arms.

“I think I’m ready- no, I know I am.” You turned to look at her as you spoke. It came seemingly out of nowhere, but in reality it’s been on your mind for the past weeks.

It made Larissa pause and do a double take which you giggled at. “Are you absolutely sure? Darling you know we don’t have to, I’m happy to wait, please don’t feel pressured.”

“I don’t, I want this” you shifted to lay on her stomach, looking up at her with doe eyes. “I’m sure, issa.”

She guided you to stand at the edge of the bed and made quick work of your clothes and her own. Then sat back on the bed and pulled you over her lap.

Her hands smoothed down your body, making goosebumps appear on your skin, "Breathe my love, you've nothing to worry about. I'II be gentle." You sighed with a nod.

Larissa’s hands caressed your body, as gentle as she promised. She allowed her hands to wander your soft skin, It’s like she was analyzing every part of your body, every dip and curve, every scar and freckle. She made you feel unbelievably safe. You gasped, back arching into her her hands as they cupped your breasts and her thumbs teased your nipples.

Your hips bucking uselessly didn’t go unnoticed by Larissa. She hummed, “Feels good doesn’t it, my darling?” Her tone was knowing, you could hear the smile on her face.

“please Issa, I need you to touch me.” “Such a good girl, didn’t even have to ask you to beg.” She was so gentle, as if she was scared to break you.

Her lips looking for the most sensitive parts of your skin and paying extra close attention to those. Your soft sighs and occasional moans are what she used as a guide, she wanted this to be perfect.

Once she decided that was enough toying with you, her hands trailed between your thighs, she circled your clit a few times making you moan and push yourself closer to her, but then her hand drifted down to your entrance, thrusting two fingers into you.

You sighed, nuzzling into her neck. Trying to convince yourself to love it didnt really work much. Larissa had been studying you this whole time, you should’ve known she’d take notice.

Maybe it would be different, you thought. Her movement was gentle, getting you used to the feeling and yet nothing. It didn’t feel bad or painful, it was just not pleasurable. It was frustrating, you wanted so badly for it to suddenly feel amazing, to give her those moans and whimpers she clearly adored so much. But nothing. How would you even tell her that? Its not a conversation you ever wanted to have.

You didn’t need to say anything, as gentle as always, she pulled out, “what’s wrong, did I hurt you?” you shook your head looking away. Larissa could see tears gathering in your eyes and cupped your face making you look at her again.

“Tell me what’s wrong, pretty..” you just pulled her closer, refusing to speak. “You can’t hide into my neck forever, darling.” There was slight humor in her voice and it instantly made you feel less scared, okay, she wasn’t upset.

“We can stop if you’d like, I promise you I wouldn’t mind.” Instantly your legs wrapped around her, and you pulled away to face her. “I don’t want to stop, I want you.” Really, Larissa didn’t understand what was going through your mind, so she asked again, “will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t- understand why but, um-“ Larissa chuckled at you shyness, planting a quick kiss at the top of your head and letting you hide into her neck again. Oddly enough it did help, “You make me feel good, really good Issa. I just don’t really get any pleasure from- fingering.”

“Would’ve done you well to tell me before we even started wouldn’t it?” Giggling, you nodded. She patted your thigh, signaling you to get off her lap, “Lay back for me, darling.”

Slowly, she made her way down your body until she reached your thighs. Nipping and sucking at the skin of your inner thighs, you whined spreading your legs further.

“Patience, sweetheart, let yourself enjoy every touch.” Her arms were wrapped around your thighs as she finally met your center. Spreading your with her fingers to place a kiss on your clit. “Issa please!” you cried, bucking your hips.

Her eyes shot up to meet your own when she finally put her mouth around your clit. You groaned, hands finding their way to her head as Larissa wasted no time on teasing you once again.

Her tongue running up your slit then circling and lapping at your clit made it impossible for you to keep quiet, something which Larissa obviously had no complaints about.

You were on the edge quicker than you expected, desperately tightening your hold on Larissa’s hair to keep her on you, though she had no intentions of stopping any time soon, she carried you through your orgasm helping you ride your high though it seemed like she had plans on giving you a break anytime soon.

Her hand replaced her mouth when she shifted up to meet your lips. Tasting yourself on her lips was an off feeling but incredibly hot at the same time. You moaned into the kiss, arms wrapping around Larissa’s neck once again while you grinded against her hand.

“That’s it, use my hand pretty one, take what you need. You’re doing so, so good for me.”

It hurt but it felt so good at the same time. Your body was aching for a break yet desperately moving by it’s own acorde, chasing another high. Smalls whines escaping you when Larissa went back to work on your neck. Ready to leave those red and purple marks she adored so much on you.

You practically squealed when Larissa applied more pressure, rubbing tight circles on your clit until you reached your peak again. This time squirming away from her before she could continue, making her chuckle and push you to lay back again. “No more, my dear?”

You shook your head, squeezing your legs shut. “That’s all you have to say baby. Don’t be afraid to tell me.” Larissa leaned down placing kisses all over your face, making you giggle and hide away.

“You did so good my love, so obedient and pliable. My shy girl.”

She continued on for some time, which you were too embarrassed to actually look at her the whole one she praised every last thing about you.

You enjoyed her weight against you, hearing her soft voice and se talked about things you weren’t really paying attention to, still a bit hazy. She allowed you to curl into her arms as they wrapped around you. “Get some rest sweetheart, we can worry about clean up later.”

[prettygreenpills]

Could you do a Larissaxreader song-fic based on the song "Slumber party-Ashnikko" plsss 🙏

Hello anon! Here it is!

Slumber party - Larissa Weems

warnings: smut, gxg!, shapeshifter!larissa, rough-ish sex, teasing, etc.

You swayed your hips as you took the bottle of wine and pretended it was the mic.

“My girl look like Wednesday Addams

Eyes go black when she orgasms

Hide your back, she likes to stab them

My butt cheeks, she likes to grab,”

Skipping few lines, you took a sip of wine and swayed your hips again. You swallowed the wine and turned around, then continued in the song.

“Me and your girlfriend playin' dress up in my house

I gave your girlfriend cunnilingus on my couch

She cute, kawaii, hentai boobies, that excites me

I think she really likes me, ask politely, can I”

You turned around and there she was. When you saw the tall blonde woman in her pajamas, the lyrics of the song made much more sense to you.

Walking over to her and leaning your chin on her shoulder, you kept whispering the lyrics.

“Yippee-ki-yay, welcome to the show

It's an all-girl party, clothing-optional”

“Oh really?” Larissa asked you and you both had forgotten about the song which was still on. You kissed her onto her shoulder and softly pulled her dress down from there. Larissa leaned back a little and her hand got lost in your hair.

“Yeah,” whispering and attacking her neck, you said. When you started sucking on her sweet spot, Larissa moaned softly and you took a zipper of her dress. Seeing that Larissa liked it from her actions, you turned her towards her and when she saw you, her eyes widened.

“I’ll go and take a nap,” you said with a smile on your lips and turned away from her, swaying your hips. She had a beautiful view since you were only in your thong and bra. Larissa moaned softly and in two seconds, she grabbed you by your waist and pulled you towards her.

Body hitting a body, you could feel how excited she was. And also that she shifted her anatomy. Again.

“Is that so?”

“Well, if you have another idea what to do now…” you smiled and arched in your back a little, making the woman grown as your ass rubbed against her.

Larissa picked you up and turned you in the air. Sitting you on her hips, she let out a moan as your tits bounced.

“Oh, I have a much better idea what to do with you now,” she said and looked at your body. When she found you biting on your lower lip, she couldn’t hold back and she took you to the bedroom.

You leant in to kiss her. Larissa returned the kiss, but then she disconnected your lips and started kissing your chest. You tilted your head back and with that you pushed your tits out.

Screaming quietly, you closed your eyes shut when she let you fall onto the bed. You crawled up to the headboard and kept watching Larissa undressing. She didn’t leave anything on, she went naked immediately. You couldn’t help but your eyes immediately fell onto her naked pubic area.

“Issa-“

“Hush now darling,” she whispered and towered her body over yours. “You were playing with those hips of yours and now you want to stop me?”

“No- fuck no. Please Larissa,” you begged her immediately and Larissa pulled your thong off. You took care of your bra and it flew across the room.

“Then be a good girl love,” she whispered and brushed your inner thighs. That sent electricity through your body because you desired to feel that.

She placed her knee between your legs and knelt down. Stroking her cock with one hand, she pulled your legs open and she took your left one. You looked at her in confusion and she didn’t react at all. She turned your body. You were laying on your right shoulder and your whole body was twisted, right leg being stretched out and the left one over it.

“Look at this beautiful ass of yours,” Larissa moaned and when you felt her cock at your entrance, you looked at her giving her a side eye.

You closed your eyes as she started sliding in. The warmth which had created between your legs was spreading in your whole body and your mouth softly opened. Larissa realized it as soon as she heard a soft moan from you.

There was a gap between your left tight and the bed. Larissa realized it sooner than you and she smoothly slid her hand there to stimulate your clit. When she touched you, she got an arch in your back as a response.

“Fuck-“ Larissa moaned out and she pushed the rest of herself fully in. You frowned out of the stretch but you didn’t try to stop her. Loving what she made you feel, you just moaned and when Larissa took you by your hair and pulled you up.

“Daddy-“ whining softly, you could feel yourself pulsating around her. Your eyelids fell, your mouth stayed open. When she started moving behind you, you were biting on your lower lip. “Oh fucking hell-“

Larissa took a breath from between her clenched teeth. A soft groan escaped from her throat and after that she sped up. Her hips were moving rhythmically and her hips were meeting your ass.

Leaving your mouth softly opened so you could breath, your head was bowed and you were squeezing the pillow. Realizing your white knuckles, you were moaning loudly because when Larissa was fully in, she pulled out almost the whole length of herself and then she slid back in.

“You feel amazing around me,” Larissa breathed out and you realized how hard it was for her to speak. You gulped and squeezed your fingers around the pillow once again. Larissa’s hands appeared on your hips and she was squeezing them softly, sending butterflies to your stomach.

Your saliva in your mouth got thicker than usually. It was hard for you to swallow. When Larissa lowered her body over yours and her chest was touching your back, you moaned. She was filling you up with need.

The soft skin of her chest with two buds on it brushed against your back. Realizing how hard her nipples were, you lifter your back a little just to not loose the feeling of her behind you.

“Daddy- faster-“ you moaned. Taking few breaths, Larissa brushed your back as a response and she started slamming her hips against your ass more often. Your made a face expression you weren’t really proud of and you let Larissa fuck you just like she liked.

“Darling- Christ, so good,” Larissa growled and she showed her nails into your soft skin, making you hiss in pain between the moans.

Feeling Larissa deep inside of you, the way she was stretching you out was satisfying. You were taking as deep breaths as you could, and later when you felt the butterflies in your stomach, you shook.

“Daddy- fuck please- I- I-“

“Are you close love? Are you gonna cum?” Larissa asked you panting and you moaned into the pillow.

“Y-Y-Yes! Fuck!”

“Go ahead darling,” Larissa allowed you. “Cum for Daddy-“ she got cut off by her own hiss and you whined loudly into the pillow.

Your walls clenched around her. Your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth opened. Whines were leaving from your mouth and you were squeezing the pillows under yourself when you were cumming.

“Daddy!”

Larissa kept pounding into you. She stepped your ass once, twice. You were shaking on the bed under her and the sight she had… she would pay any price to see you like that again.

“Fuck baby-“ Larissa moaned and pushed her hips against your ass, as she marked you from the inside. She stayed in until she wasn’t empty.

“Oh god-“ you panted and your eyes rolled back into your head. You clenched around her even more than before. Larissa breathed out heavily and she started slowly pulling out. Then she laid next to you and sighed.

“I could fuck you like this every day,” Larissa breathed out and you chuckled.

“What’s stopping you?” Asking back you tiredly closed your eyes and then opened them again. You chuckled when you saw Larissa’s face expression and you closed your eyes, still smiling.

“We will see who will be the one who will want to stop.”

“I guess we will,” you said and with that sentence you decided to stop talking. Larissa didn’t say anything as well and you exhaled softly, falling into the beautiful dreamworld.

[firstprincehornyramblings]

Champagne Games

It's Henry's birthday, and the champagne has left Alex a little desperate for the bathroom. Unfortunately Henry has other plans for the two of them. (Issa desperation watersports fic ya'll! With plenty of Alex squirms for all the squirm enthusiasts.) Top Henry x Bottom Alex

Big shoutout to Jon (@bigassbowlingballhead) and everyone else including, the anon, who encouraged me that people want to read this kind of thing! Hope you enjoy!

Tags: Top Henry x Bottom Alex, Smut, Vague Plot but no Real Story, Watersports, Denial, Desperation, FirstPrince, Blowjob, Oral Sex, Bodyshots, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal, Some Alcohol Play, So Many Alex Squirms, (A little bit of) Dom!Henry,

[xoxo-surfergirl]

wash my sins away

III. Though there be fury on the waves,

aemond targaryen x fem!lucerys velaryon

abstract: lucera and aemond awake on a beach in storm's end, with no recollection of how they got there. they sense the brewing war, but amnesia has ripped away the memory of visery's passing.

themes: light grief, dark themes, slight mention of non-con, dark aemond (he's a dark character so he's gonna come off as dark in this fic), all of rhaenyra's children are girls, enemies to enemies to lovers, eventual smut, medium burn

lucy's notes: there will be a minor pairing of aegon x female jacaerys velaryon, but I won't tag it until it occurs. everything is being set into motion! close female friendships are valuable in hard times..

word count: 6.1k

Dragonstone

There was an emptiness in the sound of the water below Dragonstone smashing, gurgling, and pulling against the rocks on the cliff below. Nothing can change the weight on her shoulders. Nothing can stop the waves from mercilessly beating against the cliffs. Rhaenyra’s eyes were red, their dryness from ceaseless crying stung, but it felt like a comfort. 

She thought of her fingers running through Luce’s long hair, of holding her plushy face in her hands while she kissed her forehead. The way her freckles darkened when they walked the beach on a sunny day. 

She wondered how it happened. What was Borros not telling her? What was Aemond’s precise threat? Rhaenyra thought of how pure Luce’s righteousness was before she left. How she promised, she promised to be nothing more than a messenger. Lucera was her peaceful dragon. Her heart ached into pieces as she thought of her strength being her downfall. 

It is a strength to be a peacemaker amongst hot headed dragons. Was her go-to line whenever Lucera refused to fight back against tormentors in the Red Keep, and instead tried to use her words to diffuse situations. 

Tormentors. The same ones, the same one, who had been there that night. Rhaenyra was heaving—until her breaths turned into cries, and her cries turned into screams. Dracarys . 

“I will avenge you, issa jorrāelagon .” my love . Daemon wrapped his hands around her waist, sliding his head in the crook of her neck. 

“He’s a monster. He’s never known his place. He’s never known when to stop with her.” Misery bit through her words. 

“He will not know rest until his death. I promise you that.” 

The raven came in the late afternoon. 

Jacaera enjoyed company, like many girls her age. She kept friends in the Red Keep. Being the heir to her mother did not change that. Sitting at her desk with a sigh, she cleaved open a few of the letters she received from her friends that resided in the Capital. Lyla Lannister enclosed designs for potential dresses, asking what Jacaera thought of a chain here, or gold beading there? Alora Fell wondered what Jace thought of her potential suitors from the Reach and Riverlands? 

But in a letter from Alysanne Blackwood, underneath a recipe for a tasty tea blend, she saw it: Rowena’s been all out of sorts for the past couple of days. You know of her unruly crush on Prince Aemond. He’s been missing around the Keep lately, and she doesn’t know what to do with herself. I’ve even tried to help her look for him, because it’s a fine excuse to wander around the castle. But he’s not in the Godswood, the Sept, the library, or even the tiltyard.  It’s quite strange, actually. 

Jacaera froze. This could change everything. 

She ran out into the hallway, out of the apartments and towards the center of the castle. 

Stopping outside of the chambers of the painted table, she grabbed the nearest knight she could. 

“Where is my mother, Ser Lorent?” Jacaera asked, out of breath. 

“She is with the King Consort, down by the cliffs. Is everything alright, Princess?” 

“Yes, Ser Lorent. Thank you.” She ran towards the southern side of the castle. 

As she was starting down the narrow pathway trailing the top edge of the mountain, she saw her mother and Daemon off in the distance, holding each other as tightly as their walking would allow. She ran faster. 

They noticed her immediately, her long hair whipping behind her like a dark wind, flats slapping against the stone. 

“Jace, what is it?” Rhaenyra was tired, the kind of exhaustion that can only come from abundant tears, but Jacaera’s urgency alerted her. Daemon looked at her curiously. 

She was out of breath, but fought her breaths through her words. 

“Prince Aemond—he’s missing from the Red Keep—he hasn’t returned since—since he left for Storm’s End.” 

Daemon narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that?” 

“I have friends in the Keep, they write to me. One of my friends—she’s obsessed with the Prince. She hasn’t seen him in a few days—the timing lines up perfectly.” 

“Just because she’s obsessed does not mean she knows all of his whereabouts.” Daemon pushed. Rhaenyra straightened her back. 

Jacaera chuckled. “I understand your hesitancy. But they have been searching the Red Keep for days, going to all of his frequented places. They haven’t seen him once.” 

They both paused. Rhaenyra lifted her chin higher than before. Daemon was alert, aware that this observation had merit. 

“If he really is missing, and they are missing together, it still doesn’t guarantee she’s alive,” Daemon continued. All were afraid to give themselves hope. All hesitated on the idea that she might breathe. “And if she is, she is not safe.” 

“If Aemond killed her, he would have gone back to the Red Keep. He would have had to tell someone, and we would have explicitly heard those words. But we didn’t. And he’s missing too.” Jacaera reasoned, pieces coming together. 

“Aemond may be insufferable, but if he is also missing, he is most certainly still alive.” Daemon thought of his nephew, how he begrudgingly reminded him so much of himself. Trouble with authority, but able to back it up with his sword. Arrogance. Willingness to do whatever it takes. He remembered what he was like at that age. Not the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms could kill him. 

But Lucera. His little Luce, his peaceful girl. He admired her for her lack of viciousness—it was never something he could grasp or understand, and seeing her innocence brought his own softness out of him. But in moments like this, it scared him. He wanted to be angry with her. He wanted her to be harder on the outside, someone worthy of Aemond’s fear. But he couldn’t hold contempt. It wasn’t her fault. But it was his job as her father figure to protect her. He was only angry at himself for not being there.

“Which means he is either with Lucera, or he is not.” Rhaenyra hadn’t yet spoken a word, catching up to their reasoning. Her grief was still fresh. Her fear was still present. 

“If she’s out there, we can look for her. We must act now.” Daemon began pushing forward, retribution on the front of his mind. Whoever has hurt her will pay in their blood. He hurriedly flung open the door, going to gather the Black Council to tell them their new findings. 

Rhaenyra and Jacaera stayed behind. 

“I want to go.” Jacaera said with calm control, immediately anticipating an adverse reaction.

Rhaenyra whipped her head to look her first born straight in the eyes. “No Jace. I am already contemplating the loss of one of my children. I cannot fear for you to be lost as well.” 

“You really think Daemon will do this properly? He goes practically mad whenever he sets off on a task, especially one close to his heart. People will die if he is the one looking for her. No war has officially been declared, but he jumps to bloodshed at the first opportunity. You need these houses on your side, especially the ones in the Storm Lands. They haven’t declared yet, rescinding their betrothal of Aemond to Floris because of his display. If we play our cards right, we could get them out of neutrality and on our side.” 

Rhaenyra paused. Looking at her daughter with bare grief. 

“I can’t lose you too, Jacaera.”

“You won’t, Mother. I will always return to you.” She grabbed Rhaenyra's hands. “Daemon has good intentions, I know that. I just worry about his violence. He might very well burn down anyone in his path. That is no way to begin your reign.” 

“You are wise to consider such consequences, issa jorrāelagon .” my love . Rhaenyra took a deep breath. “I just need a moment. I can’t immediately agree to something that gives me more reason to fear for my children.” 

“I understand, Your Grace.” Jacaera stood up and curtsied, before leaving her mother to her thoughts. 

Later on in the day, as Jacaera was practicing her penmanship in the comforts of her apartments, she was retrieved by Ser Lorent. Stepping out of her foyer, she quickly joined the knight in a fast-paced walk. 

“What occurred during the Black Council meeting, Ser?” 

The knight shrugged. “Daemon was quite livid after hearing your suggestion to go in his stead, but when Rhaenyra told him of your reasoning, the rest of the Black Council quickly admitted that there was verity in your words. After much deliberation, Daemon conceded, but he was quite grumpy about it.”

Jacaera cringed. There were very few things she disliked more than being on the receiving end of Daemon’s grumpiness. “Do you think he’s over it?” 

“Mhm, possibly. You know how he is, sometimes he’s over it within moments, and then other times it takes a few days…months…” Ser Lorent looked at her as he quieted voice to a whisper. “...Years.” 

Jacaera laughed. She had always enjoyed his company, and he was one of the few knights in the Queensguard who she felt truly comfortable around. It helped that he was a man only slightly older than her, their youth giving them a common understanding. 

They reached the door of the Painted Table chambers. 

Dusk had fallen through the chamber and splayed a plethora of the last inches of light. The Queen and King Consort were facing the hearth, and turned around in sync. Jacaera tensed. They dripped regality and fire.  

“You will leave Dragonstone as soon as you have prepared yourself. We mustn’t waste anymore time. Through the nightfall you will travel across the Gullet to Sharp Point and make your way down to Storm’s End from there. If there is no word on the third day of your whereabouts or anything you may have noticed, Daemon will come.”

Jacaera hinged at her hips in a bow. “Of course, Your Grace.”

“Do not stray from this path, and you will inform us of the route you plan to take once you arrive.” Rhaenyra’s facade of regality was cracking. Her eyes were large and vulnerable, and her lip quivered. “You must return to me. That is an order from your Queen.” 

Shipwreck Village, Storm Lands

Despite crying herself to sleep, Lucera slept well in the hold of Aemond’s arms. He was heavy on top of her, his even breath lulling her back to sleep whenever she awoke from pain. She was tucked in his body so deeply, and it brought her comfort. 

When she was finally awake enough to rub sleep from her eyes, she realized that he had left. The thrum of pain had finally ebbed away enough that she found it fitting to get up and slide her cloak over her shoulders. Fresh air would do her much good. 

Once strolling about, she found comfort in the presence of people once more. It wasn’t hard to spot Aemond, with his cloak draped over his head, lurking near the harbor. To the untrained eye he would have mostly blended, but Lucera knew exactly what to look for. 

Lucera was behind him, attempting to catch him off guard. “Good morrow, uncle.”

He turned slightly, unfazed. “Feeling good enough to walk, I see.” Of course she wouldn’t catch him by surprise. He had probably sensed her before she noticed him. 

“How did you know it was me?” She looked up at him. 

“I pay very close attention to my surroundings. There’s very little that goes on around me that I don’t notice.” 

Well if he wasn’t overly confident . Lucera nearly rolled her eyes at his grandiose assumption. 

“I’m sure there is plenty you don’t know about.” 

“From our short time here I have learned many things. The baker is in debt to a group of vagabond bandits that surround the deep Kingswood that borders here. The seamstress is running an underground whorehouse. The spice merchant is bribing the commander of the harbor to import opium and other plants that make you see visions, both of which are not permitted in the Storm Lands” 

If she was being entirely truthful with herself, Aemond impressed her. He was vigilant, twisting his intelligence to his advantage at every turn and opportunity. Where she was trusting of the world and its goodness, he held a certain cynicism about him. She knew that truly, it was this very cynicism that gave him the upper hand in a number of situations. Inversely, her naivety was a potential risk. But if anyone had taught her that the world could be cruel, it was him. 

But his darkness, particularly the intimate relationship it had with her, didn’t change the swell of her infatuation. It was bubbling slowly, ignorable most moments. But it sat in the shadows, waiting—for acknowledgement, for acceptance, to be fed whenever their eyes met, whenever their skin touched. 

“Perhaps you have been misled,” Lucera lifted her head in defiance, even though she wholeheartedly believed his words to be truthful. 

He turned to face her. “Oh, dear niece. You have so much to learn.” 

Lucera felt embarrassed. He always made her feel dull-witted where she knew she wasn’t. She wasn’t actually in disbelief, she just frowned upon his assuredness. He’s always right. But his ego is too large. That’s what bothers her. 

But what else did he notice? What knowledge did he acquire about their family purely from examining their every decision, word, and movement? What did he know about her? Not wanting to drag along the subject, she thought of the next thing that came to her mind. 

She went to stand next to him, watching the boats on the harbor release the dead fish onto the deck. “Do you believe in magic, uncle?” 

“I believe in our family’s strength in Old Valyria. The Dragon Lords used blood magic to assert their power. It’s why we are dragonriders. Magic is in our veins, niece”

“I remember reading about the Dragon Lords. Didn’t they sacrifice thousands of those in the cities they conquered for it?” 

“They did, and used the mass killings for their blood magic rituals. We were always conquerors, and we always will be. Nothing compares to the blood of the Dragon Lords, the blood of Old Valyria.” 

“I don’t know if I want to be one,” her voice carried wistfully.

“What?” He turned to face her. 

“I don’t want to be a conqueror, Aemond. It is not my nature to conquer”. It is your dark hair. It is your doe chocolate eyes. She was waiting for him to say it. 

“Perhaps you weren’t.” He paused for a moment, looking at her directly, his eye holding its gaze. “I never imagined a child of Rhaenyra’s could be so docile. You were even fostered by Daemon. It’s a wonder you’re not more like them.” Lucera was apprehensive to believe there was almost no judgment in his voice, but she couldn’t find any. 

“My mother and father’s fire is not to be underestimated, that’s for certain” Lucera laughed lightly to herself, before wistfully continuing. “They worry about me, you know. They know of my nature. They know I am quite…soft, sometimes, and am slow to anger. Daemon sees it as a weakness. He’s tough with me, pushes me past my limits when we train.”

He was looking straight ahead now. “They should.” 

“They should what?” 

“Worry about you.”

The town square was a lively thing, as the folk prepared for the Stranger’s feast day. Paper lanterns, beautiful tapestries, and aromatics hung in routinely empty spaces. 

But a flurry of fluff caught the corner of Lucera’s eye. 

“What—?” She stalked towards the fur crouched against the cobbles. Leaning down, she examined the tiny creatures. Below the gutter lining the bakery, she could make out eight distinctive forms. Their ears were barely sprouting from behind their eyes, nearly too large for their heads. She gasped. 

“My goodness! Where is your mother?” Lucera knelt on the cobbles to meet them. 

“Probably eaten by dogs.” Aemond examined the young rabbits from over her shoulder. 

“You poor babies.” Lucera cooed, a gentleness in her voice that was hard to ignore. She reached over to pick up a few, which happily cuddled into her arms. The rest of the bunch approached the ends of her skirt and the fabric that gathered around her knees. 

Lucera giggled. He didn’t like what it made him feel. 

“I can’t hold all of them. There’s too many!” And she swiftly stood up, handed him the ones in her arms before he could protest, and gathered the rest that had burrowed into her skirts. 

They were curious, navigating the crevice of his arm and folds of his cloak. They were so small , these tiny creatures that held life behind their eyes and a heartbeat beneath their breast. His hands didn’t feel worthy of holding such innocence. 

He looked up at Lucera, her smile meeting her eyes, her laugh meeting his ears. They belonged with her, in her arms. She was fit to hold such a tiny creature, something so innocent. 

But then he remembered. And he tensed, the melancholia of their past descending upon him. No. She wasn’t innocent. She could pretend to be in moments like this: the baby bunnies puppets to flourish her in this mummer's farce, mere accessories to legitimize her and her purity. 

But gods she looked beautiful, and he couldn’t help but to accept at least that as truth. He wanted to forget that maybe she was innocent as children are, as innocent as these helpless creatures that must bow to the cards they are dealt, the hands that hold them. 

“We need to help them, Aemond,” she looked up at him with the most authentic sense of care that nearly startled him. He wasn’t used to seeing a heart so open. Not in the Red Keep. Not in the Capitol. “They won’t survive if we leave them here like this. There’s too many people, too many dogs.” 

“The dogs will find them eventually, Lucera.”

“But they don’t belong here. They belong in the forest,” she looked back up at him. “Please help me give them the best chance they have at survival.” 

He couldn’t bring himself to say no. The edge of the southern Kingswood was near, and he watched as she tenderly stroked their fur as they walked, giving equal attention to the four in her arms. The fragility of these tiny creatures was met kindly with Lucera’s dainty fingers. Aemond couldn’t help but attend to each curl and curve of her equally small hands. 

When they reached the base of a sea pine, she gingerly set the rabbits down. Their hops were nothing but attempts at this stage of their life. They padded in short bursts around Lucera, who began digging a small burrow in the hollow of the thick roots. The dirt caught under her nails and in the crevices of her fingers. Aemond had never seen her like this. In her plain dress, with her bastard hair, soft dirt clinging to her hands and knees, her appearance massively contradicted that of Targaryen royalty. 

But she was. Somehow, she was set to inherit Driftmark. Somehow, she was leagues closer to the iron throne than he was. He wanted to laugh. It was funny. The other part of him wanted to curse the gods for such irony. And the other part couldn’t get enough of her as she was. Would he still be captured by her if she was the spitting image of a Valyrian princess? He wanted to say he would. But he knew he wouldn’t be. 

He had been raised with his chin tilted above those who were not of Hightower or Targaryen blood, at those who bore low status, at those who looked like they did, at those who were weak. Much of his opinions on his family were complicated, each person their own blend of respect, resentment, distaste, or insignificance. He was raised to be above others, that is precisely what it means to be royalty, ruling as part of a dynasty won through conquest. But he wasn’t a barbarian: he was taught duty, respect, etiquette. Sure—he broke the rules sometimes—and as he got older he found that perhaps there were very few worth following. But he wasn’t raised that way. 

She was everything he was taught to hate. Her mere existence was improper. The tongues in his youth whispered the corruption of Rhaenyra, her whore-like tendencies consequentially giving her babes, babes cursed with being born out of wedlock, and in infidelity no less. And yet here she was, overly concerned with the well-beings of helpless creatures sure to be unable to survive without their mother. Her heart was spacious and fond. Lucera was nothing like him. She was forbidden. And he loved to covet things he shouldn’t. 

The baby rabbits were warm, their small, soft bodies sharing their heat with him. When he set them down in the burrow Lucera had dug with her hands, he felt the cold burn of their sudden absence on his chest. 

“There you go little ones,” she sighed, and climbed up from her knees. He looked into her eyes, and they held their gazes together for a moment. Her gaze was still soft, and she looked at him as if he, too, was a rabbit in her hands. 

The smile on her face was large, and there was a twinkle in her eyes that he’d never seen before. She looked happy. Genuinely happy. 

He hoped he was enough for the twinkle to stay. 

After watching the preparations for the Feast of the Stranger unfold, smallfolk running from nook and door to put up decorations, and a satisfying meal at the tavern below their rooms, the two went up to their room. 

Lucera removed her cloak, promptly setting it on the chair behind her. 

“What did you mean when you said my parents should worry about me.” She said, as if she hadn’t been mulling it over for several hours past. 

“Hm?” Aemond was busy removing his own cloak and boots. 

“Our conversation near the harbor. You said my mother and Daemon were right to worry about me” 

He looked at her and paused, as if it was common sense. “Compared to the rest of us, you lack fire. It’s a dangerous thing in our family to not have it.” 

“Just because I’m not half mad does not mean I need to be worried over. You, Daemon, and my mother are all wild and uncontrollable. I’m being compared to some of the most fiery people in our family history. That is my point.” 

Aemond looked at her, a strange—nearly amused—look on his face. “I guess you did cut out my eye. Lunged at me with no hesitation. Perhaps I was mistaken in my judgment.”

Her expression fell. “I—no, I didn’t—mean to do that, I wish I hadn’t, I’m sorry.” 

Aemond laughed. His expression was dark. “It sure seemed like you meant to.” There was a smile on his face, but he looked anything but cheerful. “Oh well…I jest, Lucie.”

Lucera did not believe he was in fact, simply toying with her. He was not over it, she knew that much from the way he looked at her, but he had moved past parts of it…somewhat. Enough to not want to physically harm her, at least she had hoped he had reconciled with that part of himself through their forced time together. 

She took a deep breath, and chose to move from that part of their conversation. “All I meant to say was unlike what everyone else believes, my sisters and I are not fragile little flowers.” 

Aemond picked up one of the books, flipping through the pages. “You can be so gentle, and it throws them off.” He liked the way the pages felt on his fingers. “No one else would have thought twice about those rabbits in the gutter earlier, but you did. Enough to make sure they were where they belong, in the forest.” 

Lucera paused, finding her words. “It was nothing special, I just didn’t want to see them suffer amidst the loud noises, the crowd, the grime.” 

“But it is special. They were there because up to when we got there, no one cared enough to do anything to help them.” He thought about his next words, and whether or not he should voice them. “Despite your willingness to cut out my eye when you were a child, I know you would never do such a thing now. It’s hard to imagine that it was actually you all those years ago.” 

Lucera stilled. 

He walked towards her until he was looming above her, continuing. “But this world can be a cruel place, and sometimes you have to meet the viciousness where it’s at. With your own.” 

“I prefer peace to violence, Kepus . It is much better to come from a place of the heart, even in the face of danger. Meeting cruelty with your own cruelty causes harm. Cutting out your eye taught me that.” Aemond grabbed her by the jaw roughly—clearly the anger was now at the surface—but Lucera continued despite the pressure near her throat. 

 “I should have jumped on you. There were other choices I could have made to protect Jacaera, but I should have never done that, and I will never resort to extreme violence again.” 

Aemond seethed. “I was about to bludgeon Jacaera. You’re saying you wouldn’t strike back against violence to your own sister?” 

“What do you want me to say Aemond? Do you want me to be sorry for cutting out your eye or do you want me to be glad I did it?” 

Aemond huffed, conflicted. “You didn’t have to go for the eye Lucera. You could have struck me somewhere less permanent.” 

“I wish the whole event never occurred. I wish that I never had to make that decision of whether or not to hurt you in the first place. And I hate that it made you this way.” 

There was a thick pause between them.

He smiled slightly, and it unnerved her. “No. I have you to thank for making me the way I am. I am not jesting, Lucera. It taught me how to survive . I am respected,”

  No, you are feared, Lucera thought to herself. He continued. “But do you think I would be if I hadn’t learnt at an early age to be so ruthless in my pursuits? To meet this cruel world with my own harshness? No, I wouldn’t be. It showed me exactly where I stand in our… family. Exactly how I am valued against you and your sisters.” 

They held each other's gaze for a moment. Aemond was bitter, his eye cold. Lucera’s eyes met his with her rawness. She was surprised at his vulnerability.

She had no intention of caving and agreeing to the excuses for his cruelty. She retorted, “And I have you to thank for making me the way that I am. There is strength in peace. There is honor and wisdom in seeking it in the world.” 

She was taken slightly aback by his recent revelations and openness, and thought carefully about her next words. “No matter how Viserys treated you, you don’t have to be that way, Aemond. There are other ways to live. You don’t have to be so merciless. It won’t change anything.” 

She had waited to say this for years. He was hurting deeply. She had known it since they were children. It had hit some part of him, buried underneath layers of self-conditioning, and his eye softened. And then it promptly hardened again. 

“Yes I do.”

“I understand.” She said, because she truly did. The world hardens people, and fathers who play favorites expedite the process. Circumstances, if unrelenting, condemn us to be stuck in our ways and if another force does not come in to stop us. She is a slave to her own circumstances just as much as he is, even if his master was far more savage than hers. 

It didn’t make anything he did okay, but she had noticed him warming up to her, and she knew that if she could manage to melt him slightly, he might not be as much of a threat to her. 

At least that’s what she told herself. It was hardly because she wanted his affections, no. 

He softened his grip on her jaw, holding it lightly. His hair was hanging on the sides of his face, almost brushing her cheek. She put her hands on his chest, holding them there soft, worried he would push her away. 

“Go lay on the bed, Lucie.” She did what she was told, albeit curiously. 

He followed her lead, the mattress dipping significantly when he closed in behind her. She felt him, the pure mass of him, along her back. He brushed her hair to the side, his touches to her skin leaving her quivering in their wake. 

Pure power emanated from him, an unstoppable force, and it awed her. She was relieved she didn’t have to ask him again to share her bed. Their vulnerable dispute made her feel closer to him. It seemed he felt the same way. It felt like a mutual respect was beginning to take shape, but she didn’t want to get her hopes too high. 

Besides, she had been anticipating this very moment since she had awakened—would it happen again? Did he like sharing a bed with her? Lucera was more pleased than she thought she would be to find him wrapping his arms around her again, but she was hesitant to consider he might hold affections for her. 

After warming her up to his touch, his movements became bolder, running his hands across her curves, from her thigh to her shoulder. She had Rhaenyra’s softness, he noticed, but training had given her a hard edge in all of the right places. 

He wondered what she was truly capable of. Not that she could fairly compete against him in a duel, he knew she couldn’t. Most people couldn’t, even those who had been training their whole lives, such as himself. But what would she look like wielding a sword? Or would she choose two daggers? He was confident she could hold her own for a few moments against him, but he would ultimately get the better of her. He imagined the edge of his sword at the dip of her jaw. Or him behind her just like this, edge of the blade lining her neck. Or her knocked to the ground, him above her, daring her to lift her head to meet his sword. 

It excited him in some ways, especially the ones where they were close together, and he could feel her body next to his. Just like they were now. 

He had asked her to get onto the bed, and he had known there would be no protest from her when he climbed in after her. 

Afterall, she had asked him to do the same thing the previous night, even if she wasn’t truly ailing anymore. 

Afterall, she wasn’t as good at hiding her feelings as she thought she was. 

Aemond could tell he did something to her. He was not a fool. He had noticed the way she looked up at him through her dark lashes, eyes pliant and ready to please. It wasn’t just her nature. It was him . He was sure of it.  

It made him smug. After all these years of suffering at his hands, and she still couldn’t help herself. Give it a little time, and she would be in the palm of his hand.

He took a lock of her hair and twirled it in his fingers. It was soft, a deep chocolate that looked black in the darkness. The only light offered were the hanging lanterns swaying in tune with the wind, their faint light drifting through the window. It made her hair look stark against his pale skin. 

Underneath him, her chest expanded and contracted with each breath, and he thought of her heart inside of it. A fluttery bird in a cozy cage. He wanted to hold her near her ribs with both of his hands, right underneath where it met the softness of her sides, and squeeze. It was that place at her midsection where he imagined feeling like he had her. She, under his control and wishes. 

Aemond was not known for being the most patient man—but it wasn’t really patience he required in this moment—he simply liked to approach situations by assessing how fast he could get what he wanted, and by what means necessary. Sometimes he could take it with the threat of dragonfire, other times he bid his time well. He didn’t need to rush her into wanting him. He simply needed to be smart about it. 

He had thought about it before. He wouldn’t jest with himself. Lucera was his favorite toy, it only made sense that he had considered bending her over and having his way with her. And it would be just that: him, caressing and indulging in her body however he pleased, while she dutifully accepted everything he had to give her. He even thought about propositioning her once: her maidenhead to repay her debt of his eye. It was only fair—even if she didn’t fully want it, he hadn’t wanted his eye to be cut out either. Then they both would be left with the torment of having something irreplaceable taken from them. It’s not like she wouldn’t want it either. He had seen the way she looked at him. She seemed so tense, and he bet she was equally as tight. But he ultimately decided against it. 

At the thought of her debt, something in his stomach sank. A lingering feeling that he couldn’t name, but something that told him that he most certainly didn’t want to hurt her like that. Not anymore. But why? When had he changed? 

Aemond knew precisely when, he just didn’t know why . He thought of the memory the water in Shipbreaker Bay holds. The impressions he and Lucera left on the sand. 

He held Lucera closer to his chest, his own pulse beating at the melody of his unease. She reminded him of the baby rabbits. So little, and yet thrumming with blood and life.  

As much as Aemond enjoyed their newfound closeness, he dreaded the thought of knowing what had led them here. 

Dragonstone

Across the bay, at the base of Dragonstone, Jacaera was approaching the edge of the beach where the water licked the sand. She had just called for a stable hand to ready her a horse to load on the ship, as well as supplies, including fresh pastries and bread to last her more than a week. 

Her mother had insisted that one of her Queensguard be present to monitor and protect her from a distance. 

She didn’t dislike the idea—she completely understood why Ser Redfort had to accompany her, she was heir to the throne after all—but she had been somewhat looking forward to being free of any reminders of her duty. Just once , to have an escape of living in a castle, and getting a taste for adventure. She supposed she would get that regardless. 

They had previously decided that going on dragonback might send signals of unnecessary alarm in the search. She didn’t want anyone to consider any implicit threat Vermax might impose. And, if Aemond was holding Lucera, he would not be signaled by her dragon to make any rash decisions. Jacaera could go in, undercover, and try to find the answers she sought. 

She and Rhaenyra held a tight embrace on the beach. “I promise I will return, mother.” And if the gods are good, Lucera will be by my side.  

“And remember if we don’t hear from you in a few days time…” 

“Yes. Daemon will come for me.” Jacaera nodded her head. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “All of my love, mother.” 

“And mine to you. Be safe, darling.” 

Ser Lorent gave her a hand as she climbed into the boat—it was larger than a skiff, enough to accommodate their horses—but it did not have the Targaryen sigil emblazoned on the sails, and was nothing like the ships anyone not dragon-riding might use to visit King’s Landing. 

Jacaera made herself comfortable leaning against the taffrail, mentally preparing for her unknown journey. The night was void of clouds or light, the moon was in hiding. She knew she had to accept the fact that Lucera might not be alive anymore, as much as the thought terrified her. She held herself rested in the idea that nothing was certain, and therefore all possibilities are lurking in the ether. There was so much shrouding the truth. What would she discover? What beast was lurking beneath the fog of mystery, was it kind? Was it bloodthirsty? 

She took a deep inhale, then a lengthy exhale, resolving herself to be calm. Whatever journey she was on, she would squeeze every potentiality out of it. 

Unknown to her, someone else across the bay was thinking the same. 

[purrplegyuu]

Issa, i love the way you leave for a month or two and come back with the darkest fics and the angstiest smuts.

Keep doing it please, love it😘

-🥶anonnie

HAHAHAHAHAH IM LOVEBOMBING YALL

Thank you so much anonnie. I’m starting to realize you’re not that cold tho haha

[havenarchive]

Welcome to the Haven Discord's April Event!

Like rare pair events that ask people to focus on less-popular pairings, this event centers on less-popular bodies. We embrace the idea that pussy, in all its forms, genders, and interpretations, is fuckin' fantastic. This month, we envision a universe where something other than cis-man dick in cis-man butthole is the predominant smut on ao3. This event should be a celebration and a silly, fun, all-around-good time.

We'll be starting on March 30th with fics for each prompt rounded up every Saturday!

Prompts

April 6: External: Oral, vibrators, grinding, etc April 13: Internal: Penetration/strap-ons, toys, fingering, etc April 20: All Things Gender: The gender spectacular, etc April 27: Free for All: Got something on your mind? Get it off here!

18+ only. Trans rep encouraged. All fandoms welcome.

Join us on Haven for company and cheerleading!

See some of last year's fics under the readmore!

Adjustment by StressedWriterTM (The Mandalorian, The Armorer/Bo-Katan Kryze)

divining you from rivers by ladyofrosefire (N.Y. by Night, reygo)

Internal by StressedWriterTM (The Mandalorian, Bo-Katan/Fennec)

Negotiation by StressedWriterTM (The Mandalorian, Din Djarin/Bo-Katan)

O trespass sweetly urged by ladyofrosefire (Critical Role, Fearne Calloway/Ashton Greymoore)

Pocket Too Deep for Play by bigamma (The Untamed, wangxian)

Living by StressedWriterTM (The Mandalorian, Bo-Katan/Issa-Or)

scarcely can speak with my thinking (what'd you do to me tonight) by mischiefseven (Legend of Fei, Xie Yun/Zhou Fei)

we'll build our walls, aluminum (hear all the bombs fade away) by NotAFicWriter (Locked Tomb, Griddlehark)

what would an angel say? (the devil wants to know) by verflixt (N.Y. by Night Margo "Fuego" Walker/Khalida)

[roanniom]

I see you give advice on what TO do with fic writing all the time but any advice on what NOT to do?

Oof this is a tough one because fic writing should be accessible and possible for everyone regardless of knowledge or experience. We can all have fun writing our lil stories and we all have our own preferences.

That being said, I do have a pet peeve when it comes to “everything and the kitchen sink” writing. This is just taste and mood, so don’t take this as law or indicative of a definitive thing that you should not do. But yeah. When it’s like the character and the reader’s first time - let’s say it’s a friends to lovers first smut scene - and out of nowhere, with no context or indication of a prior discussion of establishment of this dynamic, the character starts calling reader a whore or a slut and/or slapping her across the face? And then, again with no context, the reader starts calling the character daddy. AND there’s spit kink. AND there’s choking. AND there’s spanking. AND there’s rope or handcuffs or sex toys? It’s a lot.

To be clear, I can enjoy all those elements. I can even enjoy all those elements all in one smut scene. But I think maybe it’s the zero to 5,000 in a strangers to lovers or friends to lovers context that bothers me because like…they have no idea if the other is into that.

HOWEVER. You could say “yeah but Issa, fic is fantasy. Consent is implied and these characters know each other’s interests and kinks by osmosis without shared experience or discussion because that’s the fantasy.”

And tbh I can’t argue with that because we all enjoy and interact with fic in our own way and that’s a beautiful thing!!!

So I guess I’m saying take my answer with a grain of salt and go off your own instinct and preferences lol. I write silly porn on the internet for fun. I’m not in the business of telling anyone how to write.

**NOTE: This is NOT a call out of any particular fic. I haven’t read one like this in a bit and mostly it was on stuff like AO3 and Wattpad for the like 2 seconds I was on Wattpad in 2020. So nobody infer that this is me implying something or starting any drama. Everyone is talented and we’re all here to have fun**

[starboyyoongi]

okay i have to talk about this series because it’s been driving me insane (in a very good way!) 🗣️

i randomly came across this series maybe last week or so? and since then i’ve been reading parts of it whenever they came across my feed. and holy shit when i tell y’all that every single chapter does not disappoint i mean it 😭 first off, the plot. i absolutely love how the plot develops with every chapter despite each one focusing on a different person (or set of characters). i’ve been reading this series a little out of order yet i don’t feel like i’m missing out on anything because of how cohesive every part is and it’s just 👌🏾 chefs kiss

but what really caught my attention with this series are the characters and seeing their development over time. not a single person in this series feels flat or 2d whatsoever and it’s just ✨perfection✨ i love how we get to see them change as the series progresses and it’s not rushed?? like at all?? and there’s no plot holes either?? idk if i’m making any sense xbshwjjs but i guess what i’m trying to say is that i love how well written the characters are and i love it like a lot 😭

(i forgot to add this earlier but i love how this fic gives you demons with personality and shows how complex they are!!)

also the smut? oh, baby i be giggling, gasping, and kicking my feet the entire time 🤭 (some of my kinks have shown up in this series but you didn’t hear it from me)

overall issa 11/10 for me and i will never stfu about this series sorry. yes i’m emotionally attached to it and yes i’m excited af for whatever happens next 💃🏾

Her Soldier: Demon!San x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Incubi!San x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst MINOR DNI

Word Count: 14k

Summary: Injured during a mission to protect Lucifer's child, San begins to doubt his dreams of having his own someday. It's only your comfort that convinces him it's not all pointless.

Tags: polyamorous relationship (m/m/m/f) bisexual!demonline, graphic depictions of violence, serious injuries, scenes of child birth/child labor, blood, blood and violence, angels vs demons, religious imagery, underage storylines, mentions/allusions to underage violence, implied child neglect/abuse, crime, mentions of childbirth death and complications, fluffy vanilla sex this time, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, breeding kink, breeding.

Pretty Lady Masterlist

Previously on Pretty Lady

***

He’d never seen anything like it before. The young woman laid on the stone table in the torch lit room, sweat gleaming on her body and blood oozing from her legs. Dark hairs sticking to her forehead, her face squeezed tight as she made attempts to push the child from her. Women wearing black cloaks stood around her, dabbing cold cloths on her forehead and encouraging her to breathe between pushes. One sat at the edge between her legs, gloves on her knobbly hands as she urged the woman to keep going. Around the room, monks in crimson cloaks held black candles. Her cries drowned out their low chanting, an incantation to welcome the new babe into the world. San couldn’t keep his eyes off the mother. She looked so young. She couldn’t be any older than you, and here she was harboring the greatest responsibility a servant of Lucifer can bear. 

His seed. 

He’d heard people around her say how lucky she is to be pregnant with Lucifer’s child; it is a high honor to carry the King’s child. They tell her that she will be the mother of a powerful lord, who will take over the world and rule as a living god. He heard one midwife talk of Lucifer’s other children, and how successful they’d become. Very few women have had the privilege to carry the new Antichrist. She should be thankful for this child’s birth is a slight upon The Almighty. San knew he’d be more worried about not dying during the birth than the honor of being chosen.

“Your first birthing ceremony, son?”

The soldier beside him leaned over and whispered, not catching anyone’s attention. San almost didn’t hear him. He saw more blood staining the mother’s white dress. San shed more blood than either of his brothers, but this was different. 

“Yes, sir.”

Hector chortled. His former commander stood in bronze armor that popped against his green tinged skin. His horns, white and ribbed, curved from the top of his forehead and his wings remained close to his back. He stood several inches taller than San, and much wider too. 

“Is it always this…bloody?” he asked, watching the midwife reach forward.

“Yes, sometimes bloodier depending on the woman,” he replied. “It is an honor to be here, Choi. Not just anyone is chosen to protect The King’s offspring.”

“I know.”

The messenger came to the Black Keep with a royal summons from His Majesty to San. San thought it might be to perform a demonstration in the frozen palace in the ninth circle, since he’d done it before, but he’d been wrong. Lucifer had impregnated another follower, who was due any day. They’d chosen him and others to protect the mother and child. His brothers begged him not to go.

“You could die, San. You could actually die if an angel gets their sword in you.”

“Please, decline. You can tell him that while you are honored, you cannot accept. San, you’d be going to the living world and you’d be facing holy magic. That can actually kill us. Do you hear me? A holy blade can and will kill you.”

“Sannie, don’t go.”

Your plea had been the softest of them. Even if you didn’t fully understand the gravity of the situation, you didn’t like the sound of it. The look of concern in your eyes haunted him as he stepped through the portal into the living world. He found himself memorizing your kiss when they arrived at the church. Standing in the circular room, watching a young woman give her life for her master, you kept rushing to his mind. It was possible that this birth would be successful and he'd go home to you. But, the likelihood of a fight was also possible. Every soldier faces the risk when they head into battle. San knows once he picks up his sword, he agrees to the fight. There’d been a time in his life where he’d join without hesitation, but that changed when you arrived. 

The image of you sitting across from him, laughing at one of his jokes and engaging in conversation, brought comfort to him. In a world of blood and pain, you’d become a beacon of warmth; the candle in the window or the light in his valley of darkness. When he first looked at you upclose, seeing you in the soft firelight, he felt you slip through the chinks in his armor. He still thinks about the vision of you on the soft sheets, soundlessly sleeping next to him the morning after. He’d wanted to stay holding you a bit longer. San wanted to know the beautiful “human” who’d wandered into his life so unexpectedly. He’s thankful you’d decided to stay so he can keep digging for more. 

“Father,” the midwife turned to the coven leader, “There’s something wrong.”

“What’s wrong?!” the mother panicked hearing this, eyes wide with fear as she looked between them. Neither priest or midwife answered her, but instead quietly spoke to one another. “What is going on?! What’s wrong with my baby?!”

San’s blood ran cold. He watched the pair continue talking before the priest went to retrieve a black bottle from a nearby altar. He bid the mother to drink it, telling her it’ll save her child. San saw him bring the bottle to her lips, and she gulped it greedily. Thin crimson trails leaked from the sides of her mouth, not going to waste as she wiped them. Suddenly, she screamed. A terrible, painful scream ripped through her chest and out into the world. Bony fingers gripped the sheets underneath her, and her toes tightly curled inwards. The midwives encouraged her to keep pushing, even as her screams turned into guttural snarls. San’s eyes widened as that final push ended in high pitched squeals drowning her out. The coven members awed and praised her as the head midwife pulled the squalling babe from her. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hector asked, wiping his eyes. “I always cry at these things.”

“Yes. It’s wonderful,” San said in a monotone voice.

The midwife wiped the blood and matter from the baby, and San finally caught a look at it. Skin the color of snow, he saw small hands and feet kicking around before being swaddled in a blanket. The mother beamed happily, laughing as she held her baby to her naked chest.

“She’s beautiful, Francesca,” smiled the midwife. “You’ve done well, my child.”

“What’s her name, Sister?” asked one of the attendants.

“Gisella,” the mother sniffled, unable to stop her happy tears. “Her name is Gisella.”

Francesca kissed her daughter’s forehead, not bothered by her small claws or dark red eyes. San knew once the child grew, the human features would start appearing. He wondered if any child you two had would be the same. His heart fluttered imagining you in her position, holding his child and crying tears of joy. It was unlikely you’d want children or a family, since you never showed interest in having them, but he knew you at least liked babies. You smiled whenever you saw one in the street, and some friends of yours had them. The dream of you carrying his children, being a mother to them would be a dream.

“Choi,” Hector called to him from the birthing bed, “Come see her.”

In timid steps, San approached them. The stench of blood grew thicker, but the sight of the newest Antichrist took his attention away. The baby had His Majesty’s sharp nose and round eyes, but her mother’s lips and chin.

“Congratulations,” San said kindly.

“Thank you,” she smiled, immediately looking back at her baby.

“His Majesty must be informed at once,” the priest said.

“I’ll have one of my men go inform him…” Hector said, but San tuned him out right away.

An unnatural breeze blew in from the nearby tunnel entrance. His entire body moved into action. In an instant, a figure in bright gold armor appeared from thin air, raising their longsword to slash at San. He blocked it with his own sword, then swiped at them. The angel, with their large feather wings, lifted into the air and more of them appeared. Then, the battle began. San and Hector stood by the table while their fellows fought off those at the entrances. The angel who’d attacked San came at him again, but a swing of his sword to the midriff and then to the back of their wings wounded the celestial being. San then blocked another angel’s sword, kicking them right in the chest and stabbing them in the gut. All the adrenaline he’d held back came at him full force. It fueled his fast, precise movements, causing his heart to pound in his ears and made him hyper aware of his surroundings. 

“Beat them back!” ordered Hector, who blocked an angel’s sword. “Protect the babe!”

He could not fail. If the angels managed to get their hands on the baby, they’d never see her again. One angel flew and landed on top of the table, reaching for Gisella, but a slice at the back of their ankles crippled them. San then stabbed them right in the neck, blood spurting from the wound and the angel clutched their neck as they fell. He had no time to observe.

“Can you stand?” he asked Francesca, who shook her head. 

“Take her,” the young woman cried, handing Gisella to him. “Please, take her.”

“Take the baby and get out, Choi,” Hector ordered.

He gently took the baby from Francesca, and held it close to him. Due to all the noise and commotion stimulating her senses, little Gisella’s shrieks nearly blew out his ears. San, unable to use one arm, swung his sword at any enemy he came across through the tunnels. The portal back home was on the other side of the church, underneath the Vatican streets. Urgency pushed him forward, and panic had him holding the child close to his chest. He moved through the caverns until he reached a large room where seven demonic statues stood facing the center. Yet, right as he reached the very threshold, one of the angels grabbed him by the metal arm guard and spun him away. San lost his grip on Gisella, who floated in the air before being caught by an angel. 

“No!” he screamed, scrambling to stand and rush at the man holding Lucifer’s child, but was then countered by another soldier. 

The burning heat of a holy blade seared his skin, sinking further into his body. All the air in his went out in a single gasp. His muscles constricted, but he maintained his own strength. As the pain took over, San reached for the dagger on his belt. The handle carved with serpents slithering towards the rose pummel, San sunk his blade into the angel’s exposed neck. Blood poured out from the angel’s mouth and artery, while more bled out from San’s side. The angel fell first, laying flat on their wings as they struggled to stay alive. Demon blades held the same power as holy ones. Falling to the ground, San took deep breaths on the stone ground. Each one burned, and he felt them start to choke him. He grabbed at the wound between his ribs. His vision started to blur and blacken, but he blinked it away. Images suddenly flashed before his eyes. 

Hongjoong smirking and winking as he stole a grape from San’s bowl. 

Seonghwa smiling widely, a book in his lap and the sun beaming behind him. 

The three of them sitting in the lounge, chattering and laughing together. 

And you. Wonderful you. Your eyes are bright with happiness as flowers grow all around you. Face down on the floor, the stone scratching his cheeks and arms, he held onto images of the four of you. The sounds of his enemies fleeing with the squealing baby became muddled and inaudible to him. He thought of your laugh, sweet and cheerful. He’d promised to come home. More pain shot through him as the magic took over, sapping more life from him. 

“Choi!” he heard a voice say from nearby. 

Before, he would’ve been glad to be dying for his king. He’d feel honored to die fighting. Not anymore. Now, he wanted to live. San only groaned, rolling onto his back. He struggled for a breath, clutching onto each one as it may be his last. He told Seonghwa he’d be back in no time. It’d been almost a month. Hands grabbed at him, and he left the ground. 

He told Hongjoong not to worry; that he’d been in tons of battles before.

He told you he’d be fine. He said he’d be home before you knew it.

Promises he’s unable to keep. San clung on to every breath, feeling the pain it brought and the hollowness of his chest. The sudden nothingness of the portal sucked more precious life from him. He heard voices all around him. Bright lights burned his eyes. Where were you? He wanted to see you. He wanted to see his brothers. Several hands laid him on a firm surface, and small wheels could be heard underneath him.

“You’re going to be alright, son,” he heard Hector’s voice. “You’re going to be alright.”

His Darling, who brought so much comfort to him. He’d never known real comfort until he ended up in Hell. The couple he’d been given to gave him the bare minimum. The witch, Hyeon, and her servant, Heechul, took him in as a baby and never told him about his true identity. He’d only learned what a family was when his brothers took him into their home.

Darkness came over him the moment the cart stopped. He forced himself to stay awake, despite the blood filling his lungs to choke him. San wanted to see you. He needed to see you one last time. 

“YN…”

****

“Wake up, you stupid boy!”

The world came to him in a blur. He blinked back the rays of sun peeking in between the cracks in the curtains. Outside his doorway, he heard the other tenants starting to rise from their corners of the shared room. The stench of sweat, illness and filth sunk right into his nose at the first breath; he coughed it out as he did every morning.  

“I said ‘get up’!” 

A swift kick to his ribs took the breath from his chest. San curled inwards on the thin mattress, groaning as the pain subsided into a dull ache. Kicks to the stomach hurt more without any fat protecting it. Immediately, the boy stood up from his bed on heavy legs. Ahead of him, a skinny woman with messy black hair in a bun walked away from him to a rickety dresser. He watched her start slipping into a ragged chemise and stockings. In a corner of their small area, a man in rags sat passed out against the wall. The dark bottle beside him told San he'd drunk too much gin again. He recalled Hyeon and Heechul’s argument last night, and the latter likely drowned his sorrows in the drink. The yellowish puddle around him made San’s stomach churn.

“Daniel!” Hyeon screeched from her cot, using his English name.

“I’m up.”

He picked up the gin bottle from Heechul, and finished it off. The pure liquor stung his throat, but relieved his thirst and woke him up right away. All around him, he heard people starting to rise from their beds to begin their day. He saw Mrs. Cimorelli pulling on the top layer of her dress. His eyes scanned over her slim figure, taking in her soft curls and olive skin. A shudder went through him when he recalled a few nights previous, when he’d offered her his last bit of coin for a suck. His age, fifteen, didn’t matter to a whore like her. San snapped back into reality when a sharp hand hit the back of his head. This caused Mrs. Cimorelli to turn her head. It took her a moment, but she smirked when she realized he’d been watching her.

“Filthy lout,” Hyeon scoffed, pulling on her worn out boots. “You’re going to catch a pox one day, boy. You mark my words.”

“Ah, shut up, you ol’ cow,” he snapped back, rubbing where she’d hit him.

“You're lucky I got work, or you'll get more than a clout on the ear. You get yourself right and get going. The overseer will deduct your wages if you’re late.”

San glared at her. He'd grown used to it since arriving in New York. Whenever she started barking about work, he thought of telling Hyeon they’d do better starving back home than starving in a new country. Though, she’d quickly retort with, “There aren’t any jobs at home.” He’d then tell her fortune tellers and mediums did just as well in Korea as they did in New York.

When Hyeon turned her back, San quickly snatched the lump of bread she had hidden under her blanket. Taking a bite of the hard lump, he glanced back at Mrs. Cimorelli as he passed her. Her small wink and smile warmed his blood. If he made enough, he’d give her another go if he caught her on the street that night. San walked past the other tenants in the small apartment space, nodding to those he knew and turning from those he didn’t and walked outside. In the stairwell, he heard the hustle of the morning crowds. He heard and smelled everything around him. He heard babies crying behind closed doors; he caught Mr. And Mrs. Wang arguing about Mr. Wang’s drinking again; he saw Daisy, Irene, and Sarah walking up the stairs from their night on the streets.

“Morning, Handsome,” Daisy, straight black hair in a messy braid and dress slightly askew, smiled at him. “We missed you last night.”

“Sorry ladies, I had places to be,” he said apologetically as he walked down past them.

“Will you be out tonight?” asked Irene, a red blotch starting to bruise on her peachy skin. “You know I always save space for you.”

“If the boss lets me,” he winked, walking down the steps to the next floor.

The best thing about New York? The girls. Back home, girls shared the conservative, modest views of their parents. The women in the brothels looked tempting, but they didn’t service teens. The ladies he’d met in America did him as long as he had enough money.

Coming out into the street, San took in the sights and smells of New York’s Chinatown. It wasn’t strictly speaking only Chinese people. A melting pot of different ethnicities and races lived in the small community, working and surviving off meager wages. Those with a bit more sand did jobs for the gangs around the city. When he first arrived, San got a job at the textile factory working the looms. It was a dangerous job for a skinny boy who barely spoke English, but it was better than the street. Of course, any money he made went directly to Hyeon, who claimed to spend it on ‘keeping them above ground’. Heechul worked in the fish market, coming home stinking of fish guts and stagnant water every day, while Hyeon was a seamstress who told fortunes on the side. It was when he beat down two thugs trying to rob him that he caught the attention of crime boss Lee “Benny” Siwon. Siwon led the gang known as the Black Lotus, a gang known for smuggling, theft, and drugs. He offered San a place in his gang.

San had been working for him ever since.

Making a right turn down an alley, he passed through a market street where vendors peddled their wares. His stomach growled seeing the fruits and vegetables being left out. He bypassed a fruit vendor, and with a deft hand, took up the topmost apple in the pile. The vendor never noticed. Nobody noticed. He waited until he’d gotten a good distance before he sunk his teeth into it. The sweet juice filling his mouth pushed back the constant seed of hunger. San could never take food home, otherwise Hyeon split it and gave him the small pieces. One might think a new country with better opportunities would make the old witch turn over a new leaf. It’d done nothing.

San finally reached a small restaurant nestled between a butcher’s shop and a chemist. The black lotus sign hanging above the door told people who ran these streets. He walked in with a small smile, seeing people already at tables and servers taking orders. The boys sitting at a nearby table took notice of him first, all of them smiling and greeting him. He shook hands, and took the shot of gin that they offered. As the boys went back to talking about their various runs, San lit a cigarette and took his first puff of the day. Any minute now, Siwon will send one of his thugs to give them various jobs for the day. Everything from passing on messages, picking up or dropping off products to theft and beating people up could be assigned to any of them. San hoped he’d be sent on one of the more important jobs for once. Things like stealing from rival gangs, picking up money from extorted business owners, or roughing up people who owed money paid much more. Siwon promised he’d give him a chance one day, but ‘one day’ is too far away.

“Hey boys,” a tall man with square shoulders and an oval face approached them. In his tailored pin-strip suit, he looked like any ordinary gentleman.

“Shoiming!” the boys cheered, clasping hands with the older man.

“I got your jobs right here,” he said, holding up a few papers. "You know your streets. You know your marks,” he began passing items to certain boys, “Get the job done fast, you get paid even faster.”

Shoiming handed everyone a slip, and San looked at his. From the scrawled handwriting, he saw mostly pick ups and drop offs. He sucked his teeth. Pennies again. He supposed low wages were better than none. He stood up from the table, holding his cigarette in the corner of his mouth, as he tucked the paper into his pocket. It was then that Shoiming stopped him by the shoulder. For a split second, San thought he’d get a scolding for his reaction, but the large man didn’t seem angry.

“Do your work quickly,” he said, “Siwon has a big job for you tonight.”

“Really?” San’s eyes lit up. “What is it? Smuggling? Roughing up?”

“Something like that,” he nodded. “Go on, now.”

San walked with a pep in his step the rest of the day. While Hyeon thought he was at the factory, he was really jumping from place to place. He handed off packages and messages that couldn’t be sent through official channels. He bought and sold the items given to him by various vendors. San even took time to go into the fancy part of town where he picked pockets. He’d gotten away with a decent loot: a gold pocket watch, a few coins, three rings he lifted from a shop, and a snuff box he stole from a fancy lady. Siwon will be so impressed, he’ll take him on the big jobs. By nightfall, San felt nervous and excited. He came back to the restaurant with his loot and messages.

“Good haul,” nodded Shioming. He took the pocket watch, two rings and the snuff box. “Siwon’s not here. He told me to tell you to meet him at Flannery’s Hall. It’s on King’s street, not too far from here.”

“What’s that? Some kind of club?”

“Yes, now hit the bricks. Don’t be late.”

He left right away, going down all the alleys and side streets until he reached King’s street. The nightlife started buzzing to life around him. New York never slept, he’d come to learn during his time there. Back home, everything grew quiet once the work day ended. That wasn’t the case in this new country. Life kept going even as the moon reached high into the sky. He liked that. He never grew bored or anxious in the hustle of the city. Walking down a row of clubs and bars, San stopped outside the one with the sign ‘Flannery’s Hall’ written on it. He only stopped because his stomach twisted tightly. A pair of women’s boots hung on the newel post leading down into the building’s basement. San tried not thinking anything of it as he walked through the doors.

Once inside, a new world unfolded in front of him. In the small bar, he saw men sitting and drinking at tables with pretty girls. Except, most of the ‘pretty girls’ weren’t girls at all. They were boys in girls’ clothes and wigs who’d powdered their faces. In various stages of dress, they moved about the room to their marks while one “girl” sang up on a stage in a falsetto voice. San’s insides told him to run, but he knew better. Siwon didn’t like people who didn’t follow orders. He walked up to the bar where a young man stood handing out mugs of beer.

“Excuse me,” he said to the man, “I’m looking for Siwon. My boss said he’d be here.”

“Nah, I ain’t seen him,” the barman replied.

A lie. He likely didn’t trust San. Most white people didn’t. He huffed and turned to the room. San tried not noticing the boys around him. He found them to be beautiful in and out of their dresses. He supposed them dressing as girls made it easier for their customers to stomach their desires. San preferred boys who looked like boys and girls who looked like girls. Of course, he kept that bit to himself. If Hyeon knew, she’d kick him out for sure. She’d rather he be stealing than selling himself to old men.

“I know where Benny is,” someone said to him.

In a very short night dress and stockings, there was nothing hiding the fact that they were a boy. Blond hair cropped short, he wore a thin robe that barely hid the naked flesh exposed underneath. He sat on the bar stool next to San, light blue eyes sultry and flirtatious, and leaned closer.

“I can take you to him.”

“What’s it going to cost me?”

“For you? Not a dime. I’m Lucy,” he said, “Benny and I are pretty close. I can get you in with him.”

“He asked me to come,” San said.

Lucy paused, his seductive stare breaking for a brief moment, “Huh, alright. Come with me, handsome.”

Lucy walked him through the bar’s main floor and up the stairs. He tried ignoring the workers servicing their clients or sitting in their rooms waiting for the next one. San enjoyed a good brothel, but something about Flannery’s Hall disgusted him. Not the boys or the girls, but the clientele. Old, wrinkled men who want things that real girls would not do. He saw one man in just his trousers come out of a room holding his shirt. Even after being with the person inside, he still sized San up with hungry eyes. He nearly vomited before moving onwards. Lucy led him to a series of rooms on the third floor. These rooms weren’t much quieter either. His body grew numb. He regretted coming here.

“Do you know what he wants?” he asked Lucy, keeping the nerves out of his voice.

“What every man that comes here wants.” He brought San to the last room and turned around, “Just relax. It’ll be over a lot quicker than you think.”

He blew San a kiss, and walked away. San could run. He could turn tail back home and pretend he’d gotten lost. He can say he got picked up by cops. But, he knew Siwon. The old man would see right through him. It wouldn’t be his first time with a man, but those had been different. He didn’t do it for money or by force then. San turned the knob, took a deep breath, and went inside.

“-And I told him, ‘Sure you can have it, but let me tell you, this snuff bites back!’”

Siwon sat in a well furnished room with a group of other well-dressed men. He stayed frozen by the door, counting down the seconds before someone saw the young, good-looking boy in the doorway. Siwon lifted his head first, gleeful and sucking on the end of a cigar, and smiled at San.

“San! There you are!” He stood up and walked over to him, patting his shoulder. “I worried you might’ve gotten picked up.”

“I ain’t a whore,” San heard himself say defiantly. “I ain’t sucking anything I don’t want to suck.”

Siwon appeared stunned by his words. “What?” he said in disbelief, but then it came to him and he laughed. “No, no, Sannie. You don’t have to worry about that. That’s not why I called you here.”

“It’s not?”

“Hell no,” he said. “You’re a good looking kid, San, but my girls have to be delicate and pretty. You’re too rough for that kind of work. Nah, I got a better job for you.” He put his arm around his shoulders and brought him closer to the men, “You see these men?”

San nodded, and he immediately noticed their fine suits, pocket watches and shiny shoes.

“They’re some friends of mine from uptown,” Siwon continued. “I told them I’d show them a good time while they’re visiting our little corner of New York. Now, I got the ladies and the booze, but we need the entertainment. That’s where you come in.”

“I ain’t following, Siwon.”

“This,” he gestured to another boy on the other side of the room, “Is Tiny.”

Tiny stood much taller than San, with muscular arms, legs and chest. In nothing but a pair of trousers, he might’ve been mistaken for a grown man if the face didn’t give away his age. San saw the faint scars on Tiny’s bronze skin, and the scab on his lower lip. He gulped down his nerves when the truth came out. 

“And you’re going to fight him.” 

****

“San? San? Can you hear me?” 

The voice came to him through a blurry haze. A gentle hand touched his face, and he instantly swatted it away. He pictured Siwon, the old man who’d caused his death, hanging over him with disappointed eyes. He’d lost the fight. Tiny beat him to a bloody pulp and he landed in the hospital. It explained the pain coursing through his body, starting at his torso and radiating across the rest of him. A low groan escaped him as a rough hand cupped his face. 

“San, wake up,” a familiar high voice said, not in the usual forceful tone but tender and calm. “Wake up, Sannie.”

“I’m sorry,” he coughed, the breath he took hurting his chest. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” they said. “We’re just glad you’re home.”

“San,” a female voice spoke to him. Hyeon? No, not Hyeon. Someone whose voice calmed every nerve in his body. The other person moved away as the woman came closer. “It’s me,” she said, “It’s YN.”

Opening his eyes at last, he saw you next to his hospital bed. Your eyes, puffy and red, stared at him worryingly. The girls in New York looked nothing like you. They had bruises or scratches from rough customers, and they carried that New York bred toughness about them. You had sand, but softness too. If he’d met you then, he would’ve tried keeping it straight and narrow. He’d get an honest job and marry you. That’s what couples did back then; they got married. But then, he wouldn’t know who and what he was. 

“YN…” your name left him in a hoarse croak. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” you sniffed. “We’ve been so worried about you.”

“I’m okay,” he said unconvincingly. 

“You got stabbed in the lung and started choking on your own blood,” said Seonghwa. “You aren’t okay.”

“What?”

Then the truth came to him. The birth. The angels. The baby. “Where’s Gisella?” he asked, panicking. “Did we get her back?”

“Gisella?”

“He means the baby,” Seonghwa told you. “They lost her,” he answered San’s question. “The angels got away before we could get her back.”

He’d failed. Once again, he’d let somebody down. “What happened after?”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he said. “You stay here and rest.”

“What happened?” he asked more forcefully. 

“They brought you here,” Hongjoong answered. “Hector told Lucifer they’d taken the baby, and, well, losing a kid isn’t great news.”

“You’re lucky he doesn’t blame you,” Seonghwa said. “The guy’s lost so many Antichrists that he isn’t surprised when the angels take them away.” He paused, looking down at his younger brother. “Let’s give San some breathing room. We’ll come back later, Brother.”

A pair of lips touched his forehead, and another hand ruffled his hair. San reached out for you, grabbing your sweater. “Stay,” he said, though felt himself dozing off again, “Don’t go.” 

“I’ll stay here.” 

“Until they kick you out,” noted Hongjoong. 

San heard footsteps cross the linoleum floors and a door softly close. The scent of oranges caught in his nose, and he inhaled it until his lungs hurt. Your fingers pushed hair from his forehead, giving him a way to catch your hand. 

“I thought you’d died,” you said in a whisper, afraid to break the quietness of the room. “When you didn’t come home after a week, I thought something happened to you.” 

“The birth took longer than expected.”

“It made me think of what it’d be like without you,” he heard your tears thicken your voice. “I don’t like it.”

“I wouldn’t prefer it either.”

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” you said, sniffling. “You hear me?”

“I’ll try.” He felt you rest your head on the bed, still staring at him with watery eyes. San hated seeing his Darling cry. “Please don’t,” he said. “I’ll be okay now, Darling.” 

“I can’t help it.”

He cupped your cheek and wiped a stray tear. Whatever painkiller they’d given him slowly took over again. He didn’t let go of you, worried about where he might end up. 

“Just sleep, Sannie,” you said, kissing his inner wrist. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

****

He should be in pain. The bones Tiny broke with bloody fists should be cracked and poking through his skin. Blood should be dripping from the broken teeth and cut cheeks onto the floor. His jaw, his arms, and shoulders suffered so much pain that they must be in pain. Yet, when he opened his eyes, he felt barely anything. Only a dull stiffness in his muscles remained. A soft groan pulled itself from his chest, which did not feel broken or torn apart. He forced himself to open his eyes, but immediately regretted it. 

“Welcome,” a man’s voice said from nearby. It didn’t sound like anyone he knew. “Name?”

“Huh?”

“Your name, son. What is your name?”

“Daniel,” he answered with his English name. 

“Your true born name, please.”

“San.”

“Surname?”

“Choi.”

He blinked the pain from his eyes, and took in his surroundings. He found himself on a cold, hard floor. Looking around, he saw empty chairs in a carpeted room. When he glanced upward, he saw a man in a purple suit standing behind a window like a bank teller. Except, this wasn’t a bank. 

“Choi San, Choi San, Choi San,” the suited man looked through a thick, leather bound book. “Date of birth?”

“July 10th, 1910.”

He sensed the man’s silence when he finally stood on his stiff legs. The man, dark skinned with tight black curls, looked at him in astonishment. All the breath came out of him at once, and he fixed up his suit jacket. 

“My-My Lord,” he said, “Forgive me. We weren’t expecting you so early. You had four more years until you came of age. This is, I’m sorry to say, quite irregular for us.”

“What’re you talking about?” he asked, confused. He touched his lip where Tiny slammed his fist last, and felt the split skin. “Where am I?”

“You’re home, sir,” he answered. “I am Charon, ferryman of souls.” 

“Okay, and what’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you’re in Hell, my lord.”

San’s eyes widened, and his heart jumped into his throat. “I’m where?”

“In Hell,” he repeated. “Since you are a demon, you came to my station instead of the forest.”

“Look,” he walked up to the window, “I know I wasn’t the best kind of kid, but I couldn’t have been that-” then he stopped. “Wait, what did you say?”

“I said that since you are a demon-”

“-What? I ain’t a demon.”

“Yes, you are. Look for yourself.”

Charon turned the book around to show San a list of names scrawled in black ink. He pointed to San’s name, “Choi San, birth date July 10th, 1910. Mother: Kim Youngmi. Father: Asmodeus, Prince of Lust and Lord of Depravity. You’re a Duke of Lust, my lord.” He paused, “Did you…Did you not know that?”

San stared at the names. That couldn’t be right. Hyeon and Heechul were his parents. As terrible as they were, they’d tolerated him enough to feed and house him. Hyeon always told him she’d given birth to him in their house in Korea. Heechul claimed to have delivered San on his own. No Youngmi or Asmodeus came looking for him. 

“I can’t be. I just can’t.”

“But you are,” he closed the book, “You’re a very important person down here, my lord.”

“I ain’t a ‘lord’.”

“Yes, you are. Come with me. The ferry for Depravity hasn’t left yet.”

Charon walked out from behind the window and walked him to the front door. He led San out into what reminded him of the ferry back in New York. Thousands of people moved in straight lines towards the different colored ferries. A melancholic, dreadful feeling carried through the air. San thought he’d stepped into the most miserable place he’d ever been. He followed Charon down a flight of stairs opposite the one leading down to the crowds. By the ropes separating this line from the others, San guessed he’d gotten special treatment. Charon led him past the flowing black river, the crowds thinning the further they walked from the main ferries. 

“Are all those people demons too?” he asked. 

“No, these are reluctant sinners or those who received no baptism or funeral rites,” he said. “They’re taken across the river to Inferno’s port where they’re shepherded to Limbo. That’s where the sin seers figure out where to put them. Don’t fret, my lord. You’re not going to Limbo.”

“Where am I going?”

“Home.”

“Home?”

“The Lands of Depravity, located several circles above the circle of lust,” he said. “Your older brothers will explain more.”

“Brothers?” San gulped, “I have brothers.”

“You didn’t know that either? Whoof, whoever raised you certainly did you no favors,” he huffed. 

Charon led him to a smaller dark green ferry. At the bottom of the ramp leading onto it stood a soldier in bronze armor. Charon approached with a self-important smugness. 

Charon turned to him. “Here’s your ferry and your ticket,” he handed San a ticket from his inner pocket. “Hand it to the guard, and he’ll let you on board. It’s a short trip, but there’s plenty of food and drink there.”

“Thanks,” San said, reading the white ticket. 

“You’re welcome, and I hope you enjoy your new home.”

San nodded as Charon left his side. Anxiously, he walked up to the guard. 

“Ticket, please,” he said. When San handed it to him, he checked and then stamped an approval. “Welcome to Hell, my lord.”

“Thanks.”

San took careful steps up the ramp. It reminded him of the ferries back in New York, except this one didn’t have any people. An attendant in a purple vest and pencil skirt smiled brightly when he walked into the sitting room. She offered him refreshments, but he declined. He might vomit if he digested anything. Sitting on a chair, he kept an eye on his surroundings. He wanted to think he’d entered a sort of coma-induced dream. Right now, he’s really in a hospital bed. Any second, he’ll wake up and it would’ve been a big dream. 

He figured out he was wrong once the ferry reached port. The attendant led him to the ramp and gave him the typical customer-service farewell. At the bottom, he spotted dozens of people leaving their own boats to come ashore. He might as well be in New York, coming off a ferry from one part of the city to another. San had no clue where to go from here. Charon gave him no directions, and the attendant told him nothing. Staring around, he saw certain people in suits holding up signs. He spotted a tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit holding a card with his name on it. 

“Um, hello?” San approached him slowly. 

“Choi San?” the man asked with bright eyes. 

“That’s me.”

“Oh, wonderful,” he laughed with relief. “I’m Yunho. I work for your brothers. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. We weren’t expecting you for a few more years.”

“Things happen,” he shrugged. 

“As they do,” he agreed. “Come with me. I'm going to take you straight home.” 

“Where is ‘home’?”

“The Lands of-”

“-Depravity, yeah, the Charon guy told me that. What is home? Who is there?”

Yunho guided him towards the turnstiles, “The Black Keep. Well, it isn’t so ‘black’ anymore, but the name’s endured the centuries. Your brothers, Lords Seonghwa and Hongjoong live there. When they received Charon’s message, they were overjoyed.”

“They don’t even know me.” 

“That’s not important. You share a mother and father. Do you understand how rare that is for a demon prince?”

“My dad’s a prince?”

“Yes, Prince Asmodeus. Charon didn’t tell you?”

“He glossed over it.”

“As usual. I suppose it’s excusable since he has a lot on his plate. Things have been heavy for him since Lucifer added more ferry boats…”

He brought San over to a motorcar. Black with white leather seats, San hesitated to get inside. “I ain’t never been in a motorcar before.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

The car ride distracted San from the city around him. He hardly noticed how much it reminded him of the big cities of the world. He held onto the side of the car as it bumped and rode through the streets. Soon enough, they’d left Inferno and ended up in a vast countryside. It looked nothing like what he expected. Evergreen trees lined the rolling hills and fields of tall grass. The sun shone bright in the clear skies. This was “rich people country”, as Hyeon used to say. Street rats like them didn’t live in big houses with lots of land and fresh air. He knew it must be nice, but not like this. Yunho drove up the country lane to a large gold and white gate. Golden serpents slithered down from the bars that resembled flower vines. They opened on their own, letting them drive onto a circular roundabout surrounding a floral bronze fountain. 

“I ain’t ever seen a place like this…”

More snake motifs molded into the cream colored walls, with a long balcony above the tall doors. San stayed frozen in the car as he continued taking in the grandeur of the mansion. The people who lived here came from old money, like Siwon used to say. Their home didn’t appear brand new by any means, but it was not decrepit or unkempt. It amazed him. Not even Siwon could afford a place like this. His sleazy uptown buddies would never own a home like this. 

“Behold, my lord. The Black Keep.”

“It’s…”

He saw gold roses winding through the rails of the balcony above, and more clinging to the columns holding it up. San felt tears in his eyes. He’d never seen a more beautiful place, and this guy was saying he’d be living here. Impossible. Not even in his wildest dreams could he make up a place like this. 

“My lord?” Yunho opened his door without San realizing it. “We’re here.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, “This can’t be it.”

“You’re right. There’s more inside.”

San couldn’t picture the inside. Slowly, he stepped out and onto the gravel driveway. Yunho led him up stone steps to the front doors. More roses. 

“They must like roses, huh?” he joked, trying to hide his anxiousness. 

“They’re part of the family crest.”

“What’s a crest?”

“Like a little picture representing the family. Seonghwa will explain it should you want to know more.”

Yunho opened the doors and San stepped inside. He’d been right. He could not have dreamed up this place. High ceilings, paneled walls, expensive paintings and drapes with a grand staircase could not be of his own imagination. He gazed up to the ceiling to see a garden mural with a naked woman standing next to a tree holding an apple. He’d never seen a more beautiful painting. 

“You’re here!”

No fantasy of his could create them either. At the top of the steps stood two men: one with thick black curls hanging to his chin, and the other with dark red hair slicked back from his face. They weren’t New York boys. They weren’t human. Their beauty surpassed any boy or girl he’d paid for back home.San saw the golden pins on their chests: a snake coiled around a singular rose. The dark-haired one wore a white shirt underneath an emerald velvet and satin vest with a nice tie. The red-head wore a similar fashion, except dark red rather than green. They were beautiful. 

“You’re more beautiful than I thought you’d be,” the dark-haired brother grinned, eyeing him from top to bottom. “A bit grubby, but with a bath you’ll sparkle.” 

“I don’t mind a bit of grubbiness,” said the redhead, also sizing him up. “I think it adds to his charm.”

The way they undressed him with their eyes didn’t bother him like it might have before. He couldn’t look away from either of them. He’d let them take a piece for free. The dark-haired one snorted with a smirk. 

“Naughty,” he said. “I’m Seonghwa.”

“I’m Hongjoong,” said the other brother, still looking down at San's body. “He’s the oldest. I’m the middle child, and you’re the baby.”

“I ain’t a baby.”

“You mean ‘I’m not a baby’,” Seonghwa corrected him. 

“But, I imagine you’ve done a lot of things kids your age shouldn’t have been doing,” Hongjoong winked, but stopped when Seonghwa backhanded his arm. 

“He’s a child, Hongjoong.”

“You think the people up there care?” he retorted. “They force boys to dress up like girls and fuck them for spare change. They’re a bunch of animals. I bet he walked around with a painted face and gave blowjobs for two dollars-”

“-I ain’t a fucking whore,” San interrupted him harshly. 

“It’s ‘I’m not a fucking’-”

“-Correct me again and I’m putting you on the floor,” San cut him off. 

Seonghwa laughed rather than cower away. Hongjoong beamed, “Finally, somebody with some fire around here. Are you sure he’s our brother, Seonghwa?”

“Yes, I double checked. It seems he inherited Mother’s tough streak,” he said, amused. It was then that Seonghwa addressed the injuries left on San’s body. He walked up to him, and tried touching his chin before San flinched away. “Who did this to you?”

“A kid named Tiny.”

“What was he? Like four-feet but full of fire?”

“Six-feet with muscles that no kid should have. My boss made me fight him.”

San didn’t want to explain it to them. He still tried wrapping his head around the incident. He always believed Siwon cared about the kids who worked for him. Whenever one of them was mugged or picked up by the cops, Siwon sent men to take care of them. As he thought about it, he realized Siwon didn’t protect them. He protected the product the kid held for him. It saddened him. 

“Don’t blame yourself,” Seonghwa said. “Men like him only care about themselves at the end of the day. If he’d treated you like scum, you wouldn’t have worked for him. I’m positive if you’d survived that fight, you’d end up doing it again with someone else.” He brushed his thumb on the split lip, “Nobody is going to hurt you here. Not even if you asked,” he glanced sideways at his brother. “You’re the son of a lord now. Demons around here would be marked for death if they put a finger on you.”

“We’d make sure of it,” reassured Hongjoong. 

Their words should comfort him, but the comfort never came. He’d met plenty of adults who made the same promise. Hyeon was supposed to protect him, but she never did. Heelchul was supposed to protect him, but he never did. Siwon, Shoiming, his friends all meant to protect him and they didn’t. He meant nothing to them. He meant nothing to anyone. 

“Come on,” Hongjoong touched his shoulder, and frowned when San pulled away. “You’re peaky. Cook will make something for you. What do you like?”

Nobody did things for free. “Nah, I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Let’s go.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa led him into a fancy dining room. On the table, servants put a large spread of food. Meat, cheese, fruits, and small cakes laid about the table. San’s stomach rumbled. The two of them sat on the other sides of the table, watching him closely. A woman in a maid uniform served him pieces of chicken, potatoes and vegetables. San stared at the plate. It beat the bits of bread and cheese he managed to steal off Hyeon. He picked up one drumstick and bit into it. The juicy meat broke on his teeth, tender and steaming hot. The first bite preceded the next greedy bites. It was so good that San thought he might cry again. Nabbing a bread roll, he wiped up gravy to stuff into his mouth. 

“Easy there,” Seonghwa chuckled. “The food isn’t going anywhere.”

“Or are you used to food disappearing before you eat it?” Hongjoong asked with a knowing look. “You aren’t the only person here who’s used to going hungry.”

“How could you get hungry? You live here,” San asked, food in his mouth still. 

“I didn’t always live here. Neither did Seonghwa.”

“Did you know who you were?”

“Yes.”

“Wait,” Seonghwa paused, “Did you not know you were a demon?”

“Not until I got here.”

“You mean to tell me that not only did your caregiver treat you poorly, but they never told you who you are?” 

“Yes.”

Hongjoong laughed gleefully. “They’re going to get torn apart.”

“Rightfully so. You weren’t supposed to be here so early. You’re still a child.”

“I ain’t a kid.”

“Yes, you are,” said Seonghwa firmly. “Just because you’re not twelve doesn’t mean you’re not still a child.”

“Nobody treated me like one.”

“Because they didn’t care. I care. Hongjoong cares.”

He’d believe it when he saw it. 

*****

Nothing beats coming home. Whether from a vacation or a night out, walking through the door into the comfort of familiarity relaxed the mind. San breathed much easier when he finally came home. He smiled seeing his bedroom, neat and tidy as he’d left it, and at the softness of his own bed. Seonghwa told Cook to make his favorite dinner for his homecoming; Hongjoong pulled out the “fancy shit” from their cellar. He appreciated his brothers’ attempts to make the event special, but the person who eclipsed them was you. 

“No fair,” frowned Hongjoong when you walked into the dining room, “Nobody said to look hot. Seonghwa just told me to wear my ‘nice shirt’.” 

San couldn’t take his eyes off you. In a velvet blue dress, he saw the tantalizing off-the-shoulders and the way the dress slimmed down to your shins. You’d put on the diamond necklace and earrings he’d bought you for your four month anniversary. He stared down your body as you walked to him and kissed his cheek. A single whiff of your expensive perfume had him capturing your lips with his. 

“You look divine, Darling,” he grinned, taking in the shade of your lipstick and your upturned lashes. “And all for me?”

“All for you,” you agreed, kissing him once more before taking your seat at the table. “I wanted to look nice for you.” 

“Do we really have to eat?” Hongjoong asked Seonghwa. He looked over to you, “She looks better than anything on this table.” 

“Back off,” San joked, throwing a piece of his roll at him. “You sleep in your own bed tonight.”

“Oh come on,” he whined, “We missed you too Sannie. I think we should all celebrate you coming back home alive together.”

“We can do that another time,” he laughed at the weak attempt. He took your hand, noticing the ring on your finger. “I want my Darling all to myself tonight.”

“I’m not the one complaining,” you replied, smiling coyly at him. 

“First course, please,” Seonghwa told one of the maids, who bowed and went to the kitchen. “This reminds me of his first homecoming.”

“His first homecoming?”

“He’d gone back home for a special assignment,” he said, buttering a bread roll. “On their 18th birthday, a demon is allowed one free kill. They get their choice of prisoner, living or dead, and can torment them however they see fit.” 

“I tormented a guard from my reform school,” Hongjoong smirked over his wine. “I put a box of rats on his stomach and-”

“-San,” Seonghwa continued, “Was offered the pass too.”

“You killed someone?” you asked, surprised by it. “Who?”

“Lee Siwon.”

“Who’s that?”

“He was a gang boss who cheated, lied, stole, gambled, raped, and killed. He sold young boys to seedy old men. He forced kids to fight each other until they knocked out or died. He was your classic asshole criminal,” he picked at the soft inside of his roll, “My dad gave me the torment pass as a gift for my birthday. He said it was a right of passage for demons. You can really exercise your powers and spread sin everywhere at the same time. I could only think of one person when he asked me who I’d pick.” 

“Was he still alive?”

“Surprisingly,” he nodded. “I figured he’d still be in the same city, extorting the same families and fucking the same kids. I got my pass and went home.”

“And he saw you?”

“No,” San grinned, recalling his one year back home, “And it drove him insane.”

“How?”

“General ghost stuff at first,” he shrugged. “I would open drawers and cabinets. I’d move stuff around his house and office. I’d make random noises in quiet rooms, open windows, and make radio static during his favorite songs.” He then laughed softly, “Every night at exactly 3:42am I’d turn on his water faucet. Not a steady stream, but enough that he’d hear it dropping. It drove him crazy. Then,” he ate the soft part of his bread, “I revved it up. I’d make him think people stole from him by taking money and hiding it around his businesses. I’d leave messages to make him think people in his gang were conspiring against him. Whenever he went to a drug deal, I’d either take money or damage the goods.” He laughed softly, “He finally spiraled when the market crashed, and he lost everything. Without me, he might’ve been able to survive with the money he’d kept hidden in one of his warehouses.”

“But you happened?”

“A huge fire started in the warehouse and destroyed property and the goods inside. By the time Siwon put the gun to his head, he’d completely lost his mind.”

San pictured his killer: Siwon, his hair streaked with gray, kneeling in his dusty apartment, sobbing as the agony took over. He remembered the man’s luxurious apartment having been stripped of anything valuable. Without a maid, and his wife having left him, Siwon surrounded himself with filth. Stuck in an apartment of trash, no money to his name with only the clothes on his back, Siwon had fallen. By the time San finished with him, nobody feared or respected Lee Siwon. He only revealed himself in those last few minutes, disguised as his fifteen-year-old self. Believing himself to be in a delusion of despair, Siwon didn’t question it when San made him see more children: the ones he forced into prostitution, the ones he put into fighting rings, and the ones he sacrificed on his path to fortune. The visions surrounded Siwon as he put the shotgun in his mouth. 

“No talking gore at the table,” said Seonghwa as the first course was served. 

“My favorite part was when he came home,” Hongjoong smirked, hardly noticing the soup bowl in front of him. “Seonghwa and I used to peep at him through the holes in his walls. We didn’t want to force him into anything, since we weren’t sure if he liked boys. Imagine our delight when Sannie walked into the lounge and,” he held back a laugh, “And told us if we wanted to see him naked, we could have just asked.” 

“And then you guys fucked?” 

“And then we fucked,” San confirmed, starting to eat the soup. A creamy chicken soup he’d fallen in love with when he first tried it. “What did you do while I was gone?” he then asked, wanting to change the subject. 

“What happened between you and Siwon?”

“Huh?”

“You could have picked anyone, but you picked him.”

San’s eyes met Seonghwa’s from across the table. He preferred not to think about how he ended up in Hell in the first place. 

“He killed me,” he said. “Well, indirectly. He put me to fight this kid that was twice my size and he beat me to death.”

“You've taken out guys bigger than you though. Jongho and Mingi have told me.”

“I was fifteen, skinny as a twig, and tired from running errands for him,” he answered. The image came to him as he spooned more soup. “If he and his friends wanted to watch a fight, they should have chosen grown men, not kids.”

“That's terrible,” you said. Like he knew you would, you picked up on his reluctance to continue. “I didn't do much.”

“Didn't do much?” Seonghwa said, astounded. “You learned how to make armor and weaponry with just your abilities.”

“You did?”

“It's not perfect. The bark is soft in some spots.”

“It can't be hard everywhere,” San said, “Otherwise you'll have trouble moving around when you're fighting. You can try filling up those weak spots with some kind of soft leather or mossy chainmail or whatever your flowery version would be.”

“What do you wear?”

“Breastplate, shoulder arm and shin guards.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s meant to be a costume as well as actual armor,” he explained, finishing off the small soup. “It’s in an old coliseum, so it has this Roman era theme to it. The armor protects most of the body, but leaves room for mobility. If every inch of me's covered in steel, I can’t move as quickly. The heavy armor would weigh me down because of my weight and-”

“-She’s been learning how to make living things with her plants too,” Seonghwa told him. “She’s managed to make flowers that sparkle like gems.”

“That’s great,” said San with a grin. “What have you made so far?”

You began telling him about what you called “gem stems': a beautiful range of different flowers that glittered and gleamed like gemstones. You’d managed to produce opal, rose quartz and amethyst flowers. Diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, you said, proved a bit more challenging for you, but you’d get it in the end. San found your creativity your most attractive trait. He saw the ensembles you wore, the way you redecorated your bedroom, and the plants you grew in your greenhouse. Everything you made turned out vibrant and beautiful. Seonghwa’s experiments might have had various shades of purple and red, but yours popped. He thought of the yellow-mouth flowers you’d made variations of in your greenhouse. Instead of only yellow, you had purple, pink, and orange-red ones. Octavius’s offspring came in hybrid forms now. Rather the purple hibiscus shapes, you’d merged them with sunflowers, roses, and tulips. Even the more dangerous flowers, who you called ‘Spike’ and ‘Rex’, bore interesting personalities and colors.

San wondered, as the conversation switched, about Francesca. He hoped Lucifer hadn’t harmed her. She’d already been in so much physical and emotional pain. Not only had she just given birth, but she’d lost her child. He’d thought someone might tell him what happened to her, but nobody breathed a word. The mother of Lucifer’s halfling children never seemed to matter to anyone. She was simply a vessel for the child who’d one day destroy the world. 

He looked over at you, cutting into the steak dinner Cook prepared, and felt grateful. Demons could breed with other demons. Demons could not breed with humans, aside from Lucifer, the King of Demons. Demons and cambions did not typically reproduce because most demons considered cambions closer to humans. When he first entered you, he quickly thought about how you’d never have his children. He’d never met a woman he wanted to “mate” with until you. Knowing you better now, and knowing your status, it was possible. Not certain. It’d be difficult and there’d be many failed attempts, but not impossible. 

But, what kind of father could he be if he’s unable to protect them? He’d been trusted to protect His Majesty’s child, and he could not do that. He’d failed in keeping the child safe. It’d likely been purified and turned into an angel by now. What if the same thing happened to you and he’d failed again? The image of you in Francesca’s place, laying flat on your back with blood pooling around your thighs and legs came to him. Some women died in childbirth. His mother claimed she’d nearly died giving birth to her last child, who’d come out deformed and sickly before passing a week later. He didn’t want that to happen to you. He didn’t know what cambion-demon pregnancies were like, but it could not be that different from normal ones.

“San?” your voice broke through his thoughts, and he saw you looking at him with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Darling,” he said, pushing pictures of you lifeless and bloody from his mind.

You didn’t believe him. He saw your worry even as you went back to eating. San tried keeping up the charade by eating his own dinner.  The meal ended with a variety of tarts San enjoyed. He devoured the peach tarts, while you’d dove into the strawberry tarts. Your appetite never ceased to amaze him. You told him in your past life, you’d waste time going on fad-diets to keep yourself from gaining more weight. Now, in a world where that doesn’t matter, you indulged more than you used to. Cook’s excellent skills made everything you tasted mouthwatering. San didn’t mind at all. He loved a woman who ate well; particularly the luscious curves that might result from proper appetite.

“I’m heading to bed,” you said once dinner ended, kissing each brother but lingering on his lips the longest. “This dress is nice, but not sleepwear. Right, San?”

“If you give me a few minutes,” he slid his hand down around your thighs to your ass, “I can help you take it off.”

“No, I want to keep it a surprise.”

You kissed him one more time before leaving the dining room. San downed the last of his wine before standing from the table. Seonghwa and Hongjoong instantly gravitated towards each other as they often did when alone. It reminded him of the first time he saw them together, and he shuddered.

“Looks like San is going to get a second dessert tonight,” smirked Hongjoong. Seonghwa cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, “A nice, thick, yummy creampie.”

“Hush,” San laughed, cheeks turning hot. “I won’t be the only one tonight, it seems,” he said, nodding to Seonghwa. “You two have fun.”

“You too,” Hongjoong said, hazy from his tipsy state and Seonghwa’s full lips on his neck.

He walked out of the dining room to his bedroom. Sadly, he envisioned a child in the hallway. A beautiful girl with your eyes and hair, giggling and skipping joyfully. Perhaps a boy with his nose and jawline, playing with a wooden sword and pretending to cut down imaginary foes. San wanted to say you’d both be good parents, but could you really be? Andromeda was the kindest demon he’d ever met, who’d loved you with all her heart. You had some idea of how to be a loving mother, should you want to be one. But he didn’t grow up with such love and attention. Hyeon and Heechul despised him, and did nothing to hide it. He’d been another burden for them to bear. He never felt a mother’s warm hug and kiss or a father’s arm around his shoulders or patting his back. No fun holidays together. No cozy nights. Nobody comforted him when he cried or had a bad dream.

He didn’t have any of that until Seonghwa. Hongjoong might’ve been more of a sibling figure, but Seonghwa took on the parental role. He made sure San got a good education, that he ate well, bathed and tried making him the gentleman Hongjoong refused to be. He’d hated it at first because he saw it as a force to change. But, he soon learned Seonghwa didn’t want to change him, he wanted to help him. If San should imagine any father figure, it should be his oldest brother.

San walked into his apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights as he headed straight to bed. He pictured you, him and your child having come back from a family night out. You’d be in one of your lovely dresses, and he’d be wearing a suit and tie. Your kid would be put to bed first, wrapped up in soft pajamas and falling asleep as one of you read to him. Then, you’d both be alone. As he removed his jacket and unbuttoned his tie, the idea of domesticity between you both appeared to only sadden him. What if someone tried harming one of you, and he failed to protect you? What if he wasn’t quick enough? Strong enough? Brave enough? If he’d moved faster, he might have saved little Gisella. Lucifer would be delighted for another antichrist; lovely Francesca would be rocking the baby to sleep right now. But because of him and his hesitation, that had been shattered.

“This room hasn’t felt the same without you.”

San, unbuckling his pants, turned to see you leaning against the doorframe. You wore a lace night dress, a slit through the middle to reveal the matching underwear underneath. Your beauty usually distracts him from any thought in his mind, but not tonight. All he saw when he looked at you was Francesca and the baby he didn’t save.

“Has it?” he asked, knowing he had to say something to keep you from suspecting anything other than pure lust.

“It was empty,” you sauntered over to him, running your hands down his back and around his waist when he turned away. “And the bed was always cold.”

He felt your warm lips dot kisses on his shoulders, and your hands replaced his at his front. With deft hands, you undid his belt and fly, then lightly pulled at them until they pooled at his feet. In the mirror, he saw you clinging to him. He touched one of the hands on his chest, feeling the softness of your fingers and palms. Your fingers then intertwined. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, the temptress dropping in favor of the sweetness.

“Nothing,” he assured you.

“Liar,” you said, lips on his skin. “What happened up there? Who’s Gisella?”

“What?” He never recalled mentioning neither mother nor child to anyone.

“You said her name in your sleep,” you replied. You didn’t sound jealous. You sounded comforting, “Was that the baby’s name?”

“Yes,” he said, preferring not to lie to you.

“What happened to her?”

“She was taken. I…I didn’t get her back in time.”

“What do angels do with demon babies? They don’t…” you hesitated, then said, “They don’t kill them, do they?”

“No, they purify them,” he said. “They use their holy magic to sap out the demonic energy in their blood, and turn them into another angel. To Lucifer, that’s as good as death, but it’s more favorable than true death.” He stared at himself in the mirror. Even with all his muscles, speed and skill, he couldn’t protect the most important being in demonic history. “I’d nearly gotten her out. I was right there, YN. I was right at the exit into Hell, and they caught up to me. I…I tried fighting them off, and I did for a bit but then one of them caught me and she…” his chest tightened remembering the moment she slipped from his arms. “They caught her before I could. One of them stabbed me through my armor. I managed to stab my knife into their neck, but not in time to save her. They’d escaped through their own portal. I failed, YN. I was given one job. I had one job to do and I failed.”

“Just because you failed once doesn’t make you a failure. You did all you could-”

“-I have fought angels twice my size. I have fought against humans, demons, angels, archangels, cambions, and all the rest. I should have succeeded-”

“-You’re not always going to win,” you assured him, putting yourself between him and the mirror. “From what Seonghwa told me, the likelihood you would lose the kid was fifty-fifty. You might get the child away or you might not. It isn’t an indication of your skill or abilities.” You rubbed his arms comfortingly. While you have bite and bark, you also carried a gentleness he rarely experienced.

“I watched the birth happen,” he explained, “And the mother. She was so young, but carrying this big responsibility. I saw the pain in her eyes when she handed her baby over to me. She’d hoped I might be able to take her to safety, and I didn’t do that. The child she bore for weeks was gone, and she’d never see them again and it’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” you said bracingly. “She must’ve known what she was getting into when she agreed to get pregnant. Seonghwa told me all about it. He says every few years a woman is chosen to have his kid, and she has to consent before it happens. This woman knew there was a chance she’d lose them one way or another. Now, is it nice that it ended up happening? No. The kid getting taken is not your fault.”

“It is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It is.”

“No, it isn’t,” you said more firmly. “You did the best you could.”

“I should’ve done better.”

“Stop that,” you cut him off. “Everyone always says what a great swordsman you are, but you’re not going to win every battle-”

“-What if that happens to you?” he said. He cupped your cheeks and looked into your eyes. Their shape and color had been his last thought before he slipped into unconsciousness. “What if something happens to you and you die because I wasn’t fast enough to act? What if we have a kid and they get hurt or die because I didn’t try hard enough? YN, you are the one person who matters most to me. I don’t want to lose you-”

“-Is there something that makes you think you will?” you said, touching the hand on your cheek. “I do have a shadow demon for a bodyguard, and Jongho and Yeosang aren’t weaklings either. There’s also two other demons who’d protect me just as much as you would. What makes you think something might happen to me?”

“The fear of losing something that makes me happy,” he said. “When I was growing up, nice things always got taken away. When I made some money, the witch took it from me. If I got a bit of food, she’d snatch it and give me the smaller piece. If I showed any sign of happiness, it disappeared somehow. I love you, YN,” he said, “And I don’t want anyone to take you from me.”

“Nobody is going to,” you assured him, kissing him lightly. “I’m not exactly defenseless either, you know,” you gave a small grin.

You extended your hand, and several thin vines extended from your hands and around his wrist. San hissed when the vines tightened around his arm, squeezing him until his arm seized up. As that happened, you flicked your other hand and out shot a spiked, magenta dart that lodged itself to the wall. San watched the barb start spreading a sizzling, black goo that burned a hole right through the stone.

“Where did you learn that?” he asked, impressed by the snake vines slithering back into your palm and the acid dart dropping to the floor.

“My Aunt Rhea,” you shrugged. “She’s been giving me self-defense classes. She says ladies need to know how to protect themselves from man-things. Gaia is the one who teaches me how to create and grow the flowers I work with now.”

“Your mother?”

He noticed your sad expression, “How to live again.” You held the hand you’d cut the circulation from, rubbing it gently, “How to feel whole and happy.”

“Were you not before?”

“Not truly,” you said. “I filled my life with meaningless, temporary happiness. I thought having lots of nice things and sleeping with good looking people made life worth it. But, now I realize how empty I’d always felt then. I never felt complete,” you brushed yourself up against him, “Until I met you and your brothers. I love you more than anything else, and not just because the sex is amazing.” The both of you shared a laugh, “I don’t want to lose any of you. I might have owned nice things, but the people I chose to share myself with didn’t stay long. I don’t want you to get bored of me and throw me out or trade me in for something better-”

“-There is no one better,” he reassured you. “No one.”

He stepped out of his pants, kicking them away as he cupped your bottom. This prompted you to leap into his arms, wrapping yourself around him tightly. He turned to the bed, where he laid you down gently before landing on top of you. Once your bodies met, his lips opened yours in soft caresses. The intoxicating natural drug in your mouth mingled with his own, and that familiar burning desire ignited between you. Usually, this sensation took him down a rabbit hole of overwhelming lust. Tonight, it didn’t seem to do that. This time, he felt nothing but tenderness as he slowly grinded himself into you. He wanted you, but not in the sexual, primal way. San didn’t want to fuck you until the sun came up. He didn’t want to ‘take you’ like an animal in heat. He wished to melt with you. After witnessing so much violence and blood, he wished every vein and muscle in his body sunk inside yours to make you one body.

‘You are the sun and I am the moon. Without your light, I am nothing.” 

A quote Seonghwa read in a poem came to him as his hands slipped off the straps of your dress. Seonghwa was better with words. He grew up with poetry and literature while San could never get a grasp on it. He often forgot names of poets or authors or playwrights, but he understood their words. He felt them. This quote bundled everything he felt for you into two sentences. Now that he had you, he would be nothing if you left him. 

“San,” you breathed his name between kisses, “Don’t be rough tonight.”

“I don’t plan to be,” he replied, pulling down the top half of your dress. He peppered kisses on your chest as your breasts spilled out of the cups. A nipple in his mouth, he sucked and licked softly. “I want to feel every inch of you.”

He exhaled deeply when your hands slid through his short hair and down his neck to his spine. Your hips slowly rocked against him, your thin underwear dampening between you. He wouldn’t use toys this time. He won’t call you dirty names, choke and slap you. San treated you with all the gentleness of a man holding fine china in his hands. He delicately handled your breasts, giving them gentle squeezes and sucking them until you whimpered. He did not bite them like he sometimes did. San teasingly wagged his tongue over each just to hear your soft gasps. He knew how much you loved having your nipples teased. It’s why they paid so much attention to them during those first few moments in bed.

Your excitement grew when he kissed between them and down to your pubic bone. Kissing along your hips, his arms wrung around your thighs so his hands massaged the inner sides. The mere scent and taste of you aroused him. He started at your knees before moving closer to your center, where you hitched a breath when he reached the very innermost corner. He kissed back up to your waist and to your breasts again. On the base of your throat he asked:

“Would you want one?”

You did not answer right away. You paused, staring at the ceiling. Right when he thought he’d ruined everything, you answered him. “Maybe? I never thought about kids before. I like kids, and babies are cute, but I never considered it. I never met anyone I wanted a family with, since most of them already had families.” Hands in his hair, you looked down at him. “But then, I met you.”

This brought you to his lips, where he kissed you as passionately as before. You both broke apart as if you’d just come up from underwater. You wrapped your legs around him as you kissed his neck. “Give me one,” you whined in his ear, rocking against him again, “Fill me up with one. I’d have one with you any time.”

He strengthened his arousal. His cock hardening against your inner thigh, he groaned as he pushed to your hips. His hands on your breasts, San moaned when a hand slid between you to his groin. He didn’t stop you from pulling him from his boxers to lightly stroke it. The pleasure it brought felt like nothing before. It might as well be the first time you two have touched each other. While he suckled your nipples, you took your time fondling his boner. He could feel your fingertips sliding over the most sensitive parts of his cock; he groaned aroundyour hard nipples whenever you gently squeezed the bulbous head. San knew he was larger than either of his brothers. They liked mentioning it whenever they shared a bed. The only thing that mattered to him was how much you liked it. Pushing into your fist, he thought of all the times you reached out and groped him.

‘I don’t know why. I just love having it in me. It hits the spot each time and makes me cum so much.’

San hooked his hand to the side your panties and slipped himself under them. The both of you shared a moan once his thick head touched your soft lips. He didn’t enter right away. San lifted himself up a bit more to see the two of you nestled together inside your wet panties. Your hands gripped his forearms for stability as you slid yourself up and down his tip and shaft. The sweet nub at the very top, hard and uncovered from its hood, dragged across the slit of his head. He took hold of himself just to move side to side over the sweet spot. You pulled your panties aside to give him a better view of your soaked pussy opening up to his throbbing cock. It made for a beautiful sight. He saw the need for him in your eyes, and he’d usually withhold it. San and the others enjoyed teasing you into madness, but not now. He sunk himself inside the tight entrance that clung to him. It brought a twinge of relief before he pulled out to keep rubbing. 

“Don’t stop,” you said, moving your legs further apart to give him more room. “That feels so good,” your eyes fell shut as he sunk back in and pulled out a second time. 

“It’s you that feels so good,” he groaned, sliding in and out a few times before withdrawing. He saw how wet you became each time he did it. “It’s your pussy that drives me absolutely insane,” he huffed a laugh, then groaned when he saw you stretched around his shaft. “It’s so tight every time,” he said when he pushed further inside, rolling his hips to get deeper, “It makes me want to breed you whenever we fuck.”

“Then breed me,” you said, head tilting back into the bed and hands gripping his arms tightly. “Cum deep inside until I’m bursting with it.”

Anything for you. Laying on top of you, arms sliding underneath your shoulders to keep you close, San fully plunged inwards. Even though his body begged him to go faster, he continued gradually. His lips found yours, and you each moaned into each other’s mouths. He never felt so close to one person, not even his brothers. Not a single soul alive made him feel the way you do. It was unlike any romance or feeling he had for anyone before. San needed you the way plants need sunlight; the way fish need water and birds need the sky. After what he’s gone through these past few days, he cannot be without you anymore. 

Even when you managed to roll him over, you remained connected by a few inches. Arms on either side of his head, you kept kissing as you brought your hips up and down on him. The faint smacking of hips on hips joined your moans and groans. He felt down your back to squeeze your supple cheeks. He didn’t let go, but he didn’t spread or spank them either. He simply held you as you went at your own pace. 

“San,” you whispered his name in the midst of your whimpers, “Sannie…”

“YN…” he replied, merely wanting your name to roll off his tongue.

You are the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Just like when he first laid eyes on the Black Keep, it nearly brought him to tears at times. He pushed his hips to yours, feeling his orgasm slowly climbing to the top. Your taut walls grew tighter as his tip hit that squishy piece inside, driving you to rock back and forth. He put one hand to your chin, thumb resting on your lower lip. The feeling of your tongue and lips around the digit made his jaw drop. You put his other hand between you to your clit, where he slowly rubbed it from top to bottom. He made sure you felt the pad of his thumb moving around over the middle.

He came right when you did. Your body stiffening, mouth hung open with his thumb still inside, you kept him buried deep as you shuddered on top of him. He removed his thumb to hear your moans uninterrupted, causing his own to drive further. He felt the distinct hot sensation of his cum shooting inside while yours covered him entirely. You planted yourself on him as his head stayed firmly on your g-spot, bringing overwhelming pleasure before it turned to sensitivity. 

San didn’t pull out right away. With a bit of maneuvering, the both of you stayed connected against the pillows. You hugged him close as he continued pushing inside you despite his sensitive cock. More deep, passionate kisses resulted in him remaining hard for another orgasm. San lifted your knees up, curling you upwards to shove in at a different angle. When he broke away to look down, he saw thick white fluids mixing each time he slid outwards. This encouraged him to keep his strokes short and deep so nothing spilled too far out. He can’t breed you if he lets it seep onto the bed. That’s awfully wasteful.

“Fill me up with more,” you said, hands tugging at his scalp. “Please, San. Please.”

“As much as I can give you, baby.”

He did. He came inside until he felt empty. You enjoyed this part particularly because his orgasms also brought out yours. By the time he felt spent, he still did not pull out. Holding you to his chest, he brought the covers over the both of you as you kissed wherever your lips could reach.

“I love you,” the words escaped you in a single breath, staying as close as you could under the covers.

“I love you,” he said back, giving light kisses to your chin and lips.

While it was highly unlikely it’d take root inside you, San liked the idea of it happening. He’d do anything for you regardless of whether it happened or not. You meant the world to him. Seeing you fall asleep in his arms, San pictured it and smiled softly before kissing you one more time. 

***

A/N: Such a fluffy good time! I kind of wanted to dial back on the kink for this one, so I hoped you guys still enjoyed it <3 Like and reblog! It keeps posts alive!

[firelord-frowny]

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[this-is-allison]

The Suit

The one where Joyce wears a bikini and wants to play...with Hopper 

Hopper gets to the pool with Jane in tow, spotting Joyce and the kids on the other side. As they get closer his throat goes dry at the sight of her in a black bikini. They’d been secretly sleeping together for the better part of a month so he’d seen her naked plenty of times, but this feels different. That bikini is anything but modest and he’d bet she’d worn it just to mess with him. He gets confirmation of that when she catches him staring and gives him a knowing smirk. Two could play that game.

“El! Come on, everyone’s waiting!” Mike grabs Jane’s hand after she discards her swimsuit cover and takes her to join their friends along with the teenagers already in the pool. Hopper wishes he would stop with the ridiculous nickname, but Jane doesn’t seem to mind so he lets it go. He puts their bag and towels on the ground and sits down in the white lounge chair next to Joyce, facing her with his feet on the ground.

“Some suit,” he looks her over again and Joyce swears she catches him blush. Oh this would be fun. She looks over making sure the kids are occupied before she takes the sunscreen out of her bag, “can you get my back?” she asks as innocently as she can muster looking him directly in the eyes.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” he glances nervously at the kids in the water.

“It’s just sunscreen, Hop.” she laughs throwing the bottle on his chair and standing up, turning her back to him. She’s so small even sitting down his head reaches all the way up to her nose. He squirts a little of the lotion in his hand and slowly starts to rub it in while making sure the kids aren’t looking. He rubs well past the point of the lotion having absorbed into her skin as soft moans begin to escape her lips. He removes his hands, “all done,” he takes off his shirt, kicks his feet up on the chair and lays back. He isn’t the most in shape guy, but he also knows how much Joyce loves his so called “Dad Bod”. She looks him over as she settles back onto her chair.

“Nice suit, Horowitz. It new?” he turns his head to the side boring his eyes into hers.

“I thought you’d like it….” she bites her lip, fluttering her eyelids. A man walks by and Hopper catches him looking Joyce over like a piece of meat (it’s different when he does it), “clearly I’m not the only one who thinks so,” he huffs. He doesn’t like other men looking at her.

She laughs at him, “come on let’s go for a walk,” she gets up and makes her way to the edge of the pool to let Jonathan know they’d be gone a few minutes. He follows behind her confused when she leads him out of the pool and into the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” he asks as they approach his blazer. She stands on her tiptoes connecting her lips with his. Her hand moves to cup him through his swim shorts. He hisses, eyes going wide as he fumbles to get the door open. Once they’re both inside Joyce straddles him grinding herself down against his member. He places his hands on her hips pulling her closer, “damn, you’re so hot in this suit. I got hard as soon as I saw you,” he snaps one of the straps against her hips, kissing down into her cleavage that’s on full display - a rare treat.

“Mhm, I miss feeling your beard scratching against my skin,” the mustache is a rather new development and Joyce wasn’t the happiest when she’d first seen he’d shaved off most of his facial hair. It’s been a touchy subject. He groans.

“I’m sorry, it’s hot out. It’ll be back for the winter,” he promises as they continue to dry hump, breathing beginning to quicken.

“I need you, Hop.” she moans out reaching into his shorts and pulling out his hard cock, stroking the length of him.

He gasps, “baby, we can’t do that here,” he hopes to hell the pool is cold.

“We can if we’re quick,” she reaches between her legs pulling the small piece of fabric to the side and sinks down onto his length.

“Oh, fuck,” Hopper groans out surprised. What had gotten into her? She’d never wanted to be this risky before. Joyce throws her head back giving Hopper the chance to slide the cups of her bikini top to reveal her breasts. He takes a nipple in his mouth and swirls his tongue around it before biting down.

The lifeguards blow their whistles signaling break time. Everyone gets out of the pool and head back over to their spot to see Joyce and Hopper gone.

“Where’s Mom?” Will looks up at his older brother.

“She said her and Hopper would be right back. I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” Jonathan rubs his head before turning back to Nancy. Jane, not liking when Hopper is gone for extended periods of time, decides to take matters into her own hands.

“I’m going to look for them. Want to come?” she directs at Will and he follows her leaving Dustin, Mike, Max, and Lucas to fight over snacks.

“Hold up. I’m not letting you two wander around alone. Mom would kill me if anything happens to you,” Jonathan gets up and they head to look for their respective parents.

“I’m so close, Hop.” Joyce moans loudly as Hopper quickens his pace.

“Come for me,” he goads her, moving his thumb to rub her clit. The added stimulation makes her scream out.

“Screaming,” Jane directs the boys towards the cars as she senses something.

“I doubt they’re all the way out here,” Jonathan doesn’t see why they would be until they get closer to the, now visibly, rocking blazer. Jane and Will run up to it.

“Uh guys, maybe we should….” before Jonathan can finish his sentence Will and Jane scream in unison and run back past him into the pool. He waits a minute and sure enough his mother comes tumbling out of the car closely followed by Hopper. They both make sure their suits are adjusted correctly noticing him after a few seconds.

“You guys are worse than actual teenagers,” Jonathan shakes his head at them before returning to the kids and Nancy who he’s sure are all hearing about what his brother and Jane just witnessed.

[firstprincehornyramblings]

Takeout

Okay so everyone wanted more watersports, and someone wanted it with some RPF, so it's time for round two! This time Nick has made a grave mistake of not hitting up the bathroom on the way back to his hotel off set. Unfortunately for him, Taylor's bratty today.(Issa desperation watersports fic ya'll! With plenty of Nick squirms for all the squirm enthusiasts.) Tags: Top Taylor x Bottom Nick, Smut, Vague Plot but no Real Story, Watersports, Desperation, Public Teasing, Public Desperation, Denial, Facefucking, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal, Fingerfucking, Bratty Taylor!, Nick Making the Pathetic LGBT Eyes