#it needs to be finished an expelled from my mind

[umemiyan]

i should probably stop posting fics in lowercase but they often start out as rambly little notes and gradually turn into way more 😭 and by the time i exit my furious writing state my brain is too done to try and fix it. i have to immediately release it into the wild

[shotmrmiller]

pornstar au

f!reader x ghost x price :)

2.7k words

tw: teacher-student scenario again, just for the sake of the porn. also, DP. first time writing it, so be NICE!

big thanks to @waves-against-a-cliff for reading what i won't

You sat on Professor Riley's lap after class, his rigid length smearing precum in between your soft, bare thighs as he fucked them. His large hands curled around your waist, long fingers creating tiny dents where he dug them into the supple flesh.

His breath warmed the delicate skin of your throat, as pants escaped his lips. You deliberately pressed your legs closer together— hoping that it provided enough amount of friction for him to finish.

You need this extra credit, after all.

Ghost inhaled sharply when you did, the grip he had on you almost painful.

"Fuckin' hell." His rich groan resonated in your chest. The gusset of your knickers was damp with arousal, both yours and his. The languid drag of his cock against your clothed pussy was so tantalizing, your core ached to be filled.

You were about to urge him to forget intercrural sex— to undress and fuck you already when a sharp knock on the door cuts through the fog in your head; a sudden rush of clarity pouring over you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

Shit.

Your back straightens at the interruption and quickly move to get off of Ghost's lap when he wraps an arm around your middle, keeping you firmly in place. A strangled noise claws up your throat. He cannot be serious.

"Come in," he calls out.

"No. No no no, you can't— you'll be fired, I'll be expelled, Professor Riley, please—" your voice warbles in your panic. His hold on you is as strong as steel, leaving no room for escape or resistance. You're helpless as the doors creep open and Professor Price steps in.

Of course, it's the most pretentious asshole teacher in existence.

"Hey, Riley, have you gotten the ema—" he trails off. His striking blue eyes flick down to your legs. Or more precisely, to what's still in between them fully erect.

"I was unaware you were busy with a...student." The sound of his footsteps draws closer. "Is this what you call detention?" Price leans on the desk with his hip, eyes never straying from you.

Ghost stifles a laugh. "Ask a better question, Price."

Heat licks up your jaw and cheeks when he resumes his thrusting as if there isn't another whole grown man in the room— one who can potentially ruin both his career and your collegiate one.

"Like what, Riley? Want me to ask if I can get a taste?" You look at Price and notice that his eyes are dark, limpid blue rings around the edges— knuckles stained white with how tightly he's clenching his hands. "You've never been a sharing type."

"Well, this sweet toy of mine loves being shared, doesn't she?" Swiftly, Ghost lifts you, his manhood now nestled against the curve of your back. His clever fingers move to your covered center, and draw featherlight circles on your hood, right above your clit. A whimper falls from your lips at the feeling.

"Answer him, pet. Tell Price ya don't mind gettin' this pretty pussy licked by him." He presses down on your bundle of nerves firmly with the pad of his thumb when you take a second too long to answer.

"I, I don't," you hiss when he rubs, "d-don't mind." Ghost gives your cunt a gentle tap.

"Don't mind what?" You swallow the lump lodged in your throat.

"I don't mind getting my pussy licked by Professor Price." His teeth tenderly graze the shell of your ear, followed by a small nip.

"Good girl," he mutters into your hair. Then directs his attention to Price, who's biting his bottom lip— the look he's giving you making your head swim. "She answered, so get down here or get out," he commands.

Ghost clasps his hands under your thighs and lifts until your feet rest flat above his knees. He hooks a finger into the sodden fabric of your knickers and drags it to the side, baring your glistening slit to the cold air of the room, erupting your heated skin in goosebumps. "On your knees, old man, unless they're too creaky to handle this."

Price's lip curls with unveiled amusement. "I was simply admirin' the view, Riley. Don't get your pants in a twist." He lowers himself to the floor smoothly until he's kneeled within inches of your exposed sex.

His prickly beard tickles the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and his mouth is warm and wet as his tongue slides between your folds.

Another former industry giant devouring your passion with the hunger of a starved man at a lavish feast. Each stroke of his tongue spreads the warmth in your stomach, a pressure slowly rising, building—

"Sit her on you," Price mouths against your cunt.

When you find yourself wedged between two burly men, there's not much you can do except surrender to their wishes. That means being lowered onto Ghost— instinctively closing your eyes as you savor the stretch and biting the inside of your gummy cheek at the mildly uncomfortable burn.

Gravity does most of the work as you sink into him in one gentle stroke.

And without reprieve, Price dives right back in. The dull ache from where Ghost's tip presses into the plug of your womb, to the pleasure coming from the attention given to your swollen bundle of nerves.

An intoxicating mix of bliss with pain furling at the edges.

It's so good, teetering on the edge of too much, but when Price sucks lightly on your clit, your body seizes. You scrabble to grab his dark brown hair, blunt nails biting into his scalp as your shatter around Ghost's cock and Price's mouth.

Ecstasy pulses through you like the steady beat of your heart, white-hot euphoria coursing through your veins. There's a ringing in your ears, shrill and deafening, and your breathing comes in ragged pants as you come down from your high.

Your face glistens with sweat as droplets trickle down your temples, hair plastered to your forehead.

Jesus.

Price lapped at the arousal that dripped down Ghost's length, softly groaning at the taste before giving you a wolfish grin behind his coarse facial hair that was damp with your desire.

"Welcome back, sweetheart," he murmurs.

You relax the tight hold you have on his hair as he tenderly kisses where you and Ghost are joined.

Ghost nudges your ear with his nose, and his deep voice rolls over you like a wave. "Greedy little cunt jus' about cut off my circulation, pet." He shifts under you, sliding even deeper than before, a hiss escaping from behind your teeth.

"I think Price is feelin' a little left out, don't you?" With a shaky nod and a quiet mhm, you feel his lips press against the side of your neck.

"Think you can take us both?" It feels more like a warning of what's to come than a genuine question. The idea of being stuffed by both of them sends a thrill up your back.

Price sits back on his haunches, palming himself from outside his trousers. "Think so, sweetheart?" He rises to his feet and promptly sweeps away everything from the wooden desk, scattering them across the floor. Taking a seat on the desk, he positions himself comfortably, his legs slightly bent and his feet firmly touching the ground. How unfair.

With a hand, Price beckons you to him.

Your legs tremble almost comically after having them in such an unnatural position for so long; tingling when you finally stretch them out in front of you. Ghost's hands at your waist help you stand, wincing when he pulls out of you unceremoniously.

Under his breath, he apologizes and gently nudges you towards Price by pressing his hand on your shoulder blades. "Go on, it's rude to keep him waiting." You're then guided forward as warm hands wrap around your biceps, leading you to stand in front of Price.

You drag your eyes from his down to his groin, where his erection is confined behind the strained zipper. Suddenly, Ghost's toned arms surround you, his hands eagerly reaching for the button on the front. "Lemme help ya out, love."

In seconds, Price's heavy manhood bobs as it springs out, ruddy tip hitting just below his navel. Simon firmly grabs your hand and swiftly turns it, exposing your palm. Without warning, he shamelessly spits on it before wrapping it around Price.

A guttural noise escapes him when you squeeze the thick of it tightly. He bucks his hips in a deliberate rhythm— taking hold of your wrist, ensuring your hand remains in position as he continues to thrust upwards until his cock is slick with his precum.

You can't help but rub your thighs together in hopes of getting some of the friction you're desperate for.

"Not gonna come already, are ya Price? We haven't even gotten started." Ghost ignores his scoff, rapping his knuckles on the desk. "Knickers off and climb up, pet."

You hastily tear off your smallclothes, shucking them to the side with your foot before hopping up on the desk, one leg at a time. Price steadies you with his hands on your waist. As you straddle him, your muscles ignite with a satisfying burn as they adjust the expanse of his thighs.

His voice is soft, gentle even, when he whispers into your ear. "Good?" You gasp sharply when Ghost spanks your arsecheeks before nodding at Price. "Jus' like we practiced, yeah?"

Yeah, just like you practiced. The plug you had to wear throughout the week whenever they both weren't tearing you in half should be more than enough prep. You hope.

Ghost taps the side of your thigh. "Cockwarm him while I get this perfect arse ready."

The stretch is intense as you lower yourself on Price— his cock thicker than Ghost's just not as long— it pushes the air out of your lungs. He bites his lip til it reddens, his eyes fixed onto where he disappears inside of you, fingers digging into the meat of your waist.

Your eyes flutter closed when he finally bottoms out, his girth splitting your swollen walls apart mercilessly.

God, he feels so good.

And then the sting of one thick, lubed finger pressing into your tight ring of muscle smothers some of that pleasure.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." Price tips your chin up with his hand, your eyes meeting his. "Good. Breathe for me, sweetheart." He leans forward to place open-mouthed prickly kisses on your neck. "Breathe, love. You've already taken us before. You did beautifully then, and you'll do beautifully now."

He distracts you from the discomfort by suckling on your skin, leaving red little love bites behind. Then, a second finger, so much bigger than your own. Price hisses sympathetically when you do— a tiny whimper coming from the back of your throat.

This time it's Ghost that breathes into your ear. "Doin' so good f'me."

Then he works a third finger in, and your back arches at the jolt of pain that licks up your spine.

Words of praise fall upon your ears, syrupy and saccharine, dulling the ache. He scissors and stretches gingerly, as he's always done. Ghost takes his time, curling his fingers inside— a slow and steady in and out that eventually has you clamping around Price.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth when you do. "So bloody tight."

"Alrigh' Price." Ghost takes you by the hips and cants them forward slightly, a cry falling from your lips at the change in angle. "Hold her open f'me."

He does just that; rough, worn hands spreading you open almost embarrassingly. There's a hot and heavy weight tapping your arse once, thrice— and then there's a blunt pressure pushing into your other much smaller hole. Your spine bows at the thick invasion, it burns, it throbs, but smart fingers find your neglected pearl and start to circle it.

The pain is merely physical, it can be overcome. Focus on the touch on your clit, focus on the hands that hold you, the heat that radiates from both of them. The harsh breathing of the man behind you as he fights to keep himself from fucking himself into you unfettered. Strained noises spilled from Price's parted lips as he felt your channel constrict, your sex beginning to get slick with your desire.

Ghost hilts, leaning forward until his barrel chest hits your back, a strangled groan coming from him. You felt unbearably full, about to tear at the bloody seams. Every single nerve from your navel down to the tips of your toes was on fire. You felt a throbbing sensation radiating from the back of your skull.

It was scalding hot, searing. The thin membrane that separated them felt stretched beyond its limit.

"Y'okay?" You can't even tell who asked you that past the rushing of blood that's in your ears. Your head feels too heavy on your shoulders, letting it lull forward until your forehead rests on Price's collarbone.

Ghost's chest vibrates as he speaks, the low rumble sinking into your skin, warming you from the inside. "Breathe for us, love. Deep in, slow out."

Right.

You remember what Price had said the very first time they fucked you. 'Breathing helps to process any pain and supports the nervous system.'

As you inhale deeply, your lungs expand to the point where you can feel a twinge of discomfort. But as you exhale, the tension in your body melts, your muscles gradually slackening.

Ghost undulates his hips once languidly, and while the ache flared back to life, below that was the pleasure you've become well acquainted with, desperately clawing its way to the surface.

A moan slips out of you unbidden.

"Perfect. So fuckin' perfect." Price's praise makes you dig your fingers into his broad shoulders, nails biting into his skin.

Then you're lifted by two sets of hands— one on your hips, the other on the underside of your thighs and brought back down. Fuck.

"Tha's it, love. Takin' us both so well," Ghost murmurs. When you begin to mewl, a clear sign of pleasure, Price plants his feet on the floor, and snaps his hips up. Black spots dot your vision, a euphoria shooting through your veins.

God, you hope your hips hold out.

They begin to move in tandem, one pushing in completely, while the other pulls out until just an inch stays inside.

It's sublime, obscene squelching coming from both your front and back. Once your body gives in to their assault, everything starts to blur at the edges, from your sight to your thoughts. You melt in their hands, softening under their touch as they take their pleasure from you.

They begin to fuck you in earnest, breath punched out of you with every thrust, and when Ghost takes control by grabbing a fistful of your hair, it sends waves of something through your stomach. The loud whine that comes from you is filthy.

"Always meltin' into a puddle over a firm hand, pet. Isn't tha' right?" He asks you as if you could even dream of answering. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth, and throat like sandpaper.

"Ready to make Price come? Choke his cock with tha' vice-like cunt, love. Wrench it outta him, take every drop of his cum, and then take mine."

Who are you to disobey such an edict?

The snarl Price lets out is animalistic when you squeeze him snugly, his thrusts turn jarring as he swells and stills— twitching inside of you, warmth pooling in your belly.

Only to realize that Ghost finished simultaneously.

There's a joke in there somewhere, about a couple finishing together, but you've been thoroughly fucked stupid.

Cut.

Simon takes you home— his home, and soaks you in a warm, bubble bath that smells like something he shouldn't have.

"I bough' it for you," he hums.

His callused palms knead into your sore calf muscles, hand making its way down to press into the arch of your foot.

"Don't go makin' those noises, love."

Eventually, you address the elephant in the room, and his answer makes your pulse race. "Gotta create a soft safe place f'you to land after somethin' tha' intense. Ya need to wind down, catch your breath."

He says it so casually as if it was common sense.

"Here. Drink your water." The bottle in your hands is room temperature, just how you like it.

[fanaticsnail]

You're The Cure

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist here

Word Count: 4,300+

Synopsis: Law bought you a pretty flower from a port, wanting to impress you with it, and perhaps use it as a courting gift should you want him. As the Polar Tang's Herbalist, you know there is more to this flower than meets the eye. Trafalgar Law got more than what he bargained for with this little gift.

Themes: Pollen!Law x afab!reader, dubcon, desperate Law, Smut, mdni, NSFW, 18+ content, solo Law, edging, premature ejaculation, creampie, fluff

Notes: This little fic was brought to you by an incredibly recent ask that took control of my laptop. @sweetly-sicken, thank you for your ask - I hope you enjoy. @sordidmusings, @feral-artistry come get your man. He needs help (and thank you both for your help and your ears today while I wrote it).

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @feral-artistry @gingernut1314 @vespidphoenix @carrotsunshine @i-am-vita @mfreedomstuff @sexc-snail

Hunched over the desk in the greenhouse aboard the Polar Tang, Trafalgar D Water-Law scrunched his eyes tightly shut and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. His body was alight with a foreign passion he had never seen make it's equal. His clothes scratched and ignited his skin, the material of his heavy jacket weighing down his torso under the thick shroud of gray. 

Peeling his hat from his body and tearing at the iron zipper of his coat, his body began moving on instinct alone. His mind was screaming at him for his appalling behavior as his hands scorched hot trails along the glistening skin on his stomach. Sweat poured from his temples, his lips parting and huffing as his hands moved at a will of their own below the waistband of his pants. 

As his right hand gripped his achingly hard cock, he viciously began pistonning it within his fist, writhing and thrusting within it to match his brutal pace. His left hand snaked its way up his chest, pinching and circling the peaked bud of his right nipple as he mewled in desperation. He felt the approach of an impending orgasm stampede him towards release, the relief of the finish line almost within sight as he continued abusing his shiny knob and pummeling his shaft. 

Just as he felt his body begin to tip its way over the edge, it fell away just as hastily. Panic wrote itself over his face: his eyes wide, his mouth agape with a thin trail saliva trickling down his chin in stringy strands. 

“No, no, no, no,” he begged, pleading at his body to respond to the stimuli, picking up the pace and attempted to seek out his impending eruption for the second time, “No-... f-fuck-... Please.” 

Choking his shaft, a momentary clarity sifted in his mind as his eyes snapped to the single, innocent, pale flower poking out of an unsuspecting, ceramic pot. The top of the flowers danced within the aura of the puffs of breath he was panting, the yellow hue of pollen tinting the air with a tang on his tongue and a burn in his nose. 

“It’s that f-fucking flower, isn't i-it?” he chastised himself in a harsh whisper, laying his right hand flat over the desk as he thrust into his vice-like grip, “F-Fuck, it's the f-flower. Fuck.”

The sweetness of his release was once again in sight as he scrunched his eyes tightly shut. He released his nipple from his fingers, gripping the steel rim of the desk as he continued to writhe into his fist. 

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh sh-shit,” he choked on his words, desperately chasing an end that only rewarded him by sprinting away from within his reaching grasp. Again, the panic seared through his mind as he doubled down on his efforts, “No, no, no, no-o!” 

Without any further thoughts about his elusive orgasm, he immediately elevated his left hand and splayed out his fingers. He growled out a desperate roar, his ink-tainted digits shaking as he attempted to activate his devil-fruit ability to expel the pollen like a foul demon from claiming his soul. 

“R-Room- Ah fuck!” he exclaimed, his body immediately flopping over the desk as his body doubled its efforts against his iron-will. The intensity of the spouted dust increased it's crippling hold over his body, burrowing down deeper into every aspect of his body. 

“Sh-Sh-... Sh-...” he arched his back, his brows knit in a tight furrowed concentration. Glancing at the flower once more, a pool of saliva began spilling over his bottom lip as sweat poured from his temple, “Sh-Shambles- AH NO!” 

His cock danced with unresolved release, twitching within his fist as the intensity of his desire amplified. The devil-fruit abilities were doused by the fiery spray of the pollen in his respiratory system and blood stream. His body was not responding to his commands to expel it from himself by the supernatural means, nor the natural. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, falling back into the chair behind him and gyrating his hips rhythmically upwards to continue to match the pace of his pistoning fist. 

As a final ditch effort to release himself from not only this spell, but to force himself to cum into his fist, he attempted to activate his Haki. Scrunching his eyes shut tightly before opening them once activated, the sparks of energy he intended on seeking fogged his mind with too frantic a stimuli. 

Suddenly, he was aware of every white-hot wave of lust coursing through his veins. Everything ignited into a bright wave of light, his eyes not able to adjust to the flashes of the augmented hue. He shook his head, immediately shaking off the use of Haki from his widening eyes. 

“H-Help,” he choked out a whimpered whisper, “I n-need help.” He mewled out a keening sob, desperately chasing his high within his right palm. He thrust his left hand into his hair, balling the sweat-damp strands into his fist and cried out for his release. 

The bob in his thigh, the lightning bliss within reach again within the coiling band in his abdomen, everything was right there. Right there, until it wasn't. 

“C’mon, Law!” He roared at himself, chasing his high. He focussed his ministrations on his frenulum, pinching and flicking his hand over the tight band of flesh, “You can do this. Gotta keep strong for the team. C-Can’t lettem’ know. You're better than th-this.” 

He whined as his left hand once again chased the channels of his inked art up his chest, swirling his nipples beneath his calloused fingertips. 

“F-fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cried in desperation, his cock refusing to spill over even the smallest amount of precum over the slit, no relief in his release being welcomed into his hand, “Why can't I do this? I-I need-... Shit-... I need-... Mmmfph-... I need help.”

-

“Anyone seen our captain?” You asked the crew gathered in the communal dining space. Downturned lips, shrugs and soft shakes of the heads from your crewmates unified in their puzzlement. 

“Why? What's going on?” Bepo asked, his pale fur reflecting the buzzing illumines of the artificial light. 

“Oh, he said he had something for me, is all,” you smiled at Bepo, clapping your hand over his shoulder with a polite smile, “Something about a flower he picked up from that strange port earlier today. Wanted me to have a look, see if I could extract anything of it.”

Bepo let out a small squeak of joy, stifling further joy from fleeing from his lips by clapping his paw over his muzzle. He sought out the corners of your face, gauging your emotions responding to a gift from the captain. You shook your head at the large, fuzzy bear with a small smirk. 

“That kinda makes sense,” Penguin smirked up at you, shoveling his food into his lips and chomping down on the crunchy texture, “Seeing as though you're the herbal remedy spooky witch, and all. He's likely in your office, maybe even the greenhouse.”

“Herbalist, Pen,” you corrected him with a soft smirk and the shake of your head, “I didn't go to study permaculture, horticulture, botanical remedies alongside my bloody medical degree for you to refer to me as ‘herbal remedy spooky witch'.” 

Cackles erupted from the table around you, your own chuckle joining with the crew as you rose to your feet. Discarding the contents from your tray, you then placed the empty tray atop the metal shelf for the cleaning crew to easily manage. 

“Alright, family,” you called to your crewmen with a smile, “I'm off to take a look at that flower. I'll see you all for dinner later.”

“Bye, spooky witch,” Penguin chuckled at you, “Don't forget your broom on the way out.”

“Penguin!” Bepo scolded your hat-wearing crewman, prompting you to laugh in response. Shaking your head, you approached Penguin from behind, leaning down to lean into his ear with utter seriousness. 

“Be sure not to test this witch’s patience,” you smirked, purring into his ear in a sultry whisper. Penguin's blood ran cold, feeling the warm heat cascading from your body as your cool breath met with the shell of his ear, “Or I may curse you with something as sinister as impotence.” 

You laughed to yourself, turning and exiting the dining room to make your way towards your office. Noticing a dim light beneath the door, you cocked your head to the side as you narrowed your eyes. 

A small wave of tinted dust swirled beneath the door, your eyes widening at the hue of the pollen particles. You immediately reached into your boiler suit, seeking out your personal mushi-shell and raising it to your lips. 

“Bepo, you there?” You called to your fuzz-covered crewmate, “Important, honey. You there?” your snail jumped, Bepo’s voice expelling from the box with a hasty confirmation of, “I'm here, what's going on?”

“I need you to open the vents in the greenhouse and pump the room with clean air,” you ordered him, reaching for the door of your office and knocking on the cloudy glass of the window. 

Rough panting, cursing and growling echoed from a masculine voice from within the room, your heartbeat increasing the longer you were standing outside the door. You had read about this pollen, recognised the hue immediately beneath the crack in the door, and you knew almost exactly what sight was going to meet with your eyes as soon as you turned the door handle. 

“Bepo, did you flush the room?” You hastily hissed into the shell, a curt, “yes!” was confirmed in response. 

“Good job, sweety,” you praised him, before knitting your brows up in concern with a very cautious question, “Bepo?”

“Yes, Herbalist?” Bepo asked into the shell, “Is there anything else I can do for you? You sound kinda panicked.”

“I just-... I don't know how to put it plainer than this at the moment…” You trailed off, unsure of how to pose this question without further questions being asked of yourself, “...You're the captain's closest confidant, Bepo. Do you know if he's taken a lover aboard the ship? Anyone he fancies that might reciprocate his-... Uhh-... Affections?” 

A lull in the crackle prompted your heart to skip a few beats, patiently waiting for Bepo to answer your question. You were likely certain there were a few, including yourself, that took a shine to the broody and serious captain that manned the Heart-Pirates. You were aware of the cure for this disease he'd likely inflicted on himself, truly desiring to give him the treatment he'd actually consent to adhere to. 

This was pollen from the pale-lust plant, a plant that only the smallest amount of dust could amplify and magnify the sexual experience of the person who inhales it. It was usually manufactured into perfumes and body oils for those who wanted to ‘spice up’ their love lives. And your Captain had likely doused himself in it. 

“I'm not sure if it's my place to say, but from your tone of panic…” the shell muttered in Bepo’s calming cadence after several moments of silence, “...H-He hasn't ever thought about buying anyone aside you a gift at port before. A-And he really thought you'd like that flower he brought back for you.”

“Okay, Bepo,” you managed to choke out a small squeaked order, “I need you to block off all access to the botanical bay for the rest of the day. Captain's orders, okay? You're in charge.”

“Is everything okay? Do you need help-?” He questioned over the shell, you halting his voice by speaking over him. 

“-The captain is likely experiencing some systemic shock at the moment,” you confessed, adjusting your uniform at your neck in an attempt to stifle your blush, “Judging from the hue of the dust, it's likely the plant he brought back had an effect that I doubt he would've prepared himself for.” You bit your lip, truly concerned for Law's wellbeing within your office, “I need you to take charge until either I, or Captain Law, tell you otherwise. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

“Aye, sir,” Bepo’s practiced reply barked into the speaker, you could almost visualize the salute on the other side of the transponder. 

“Good boy,” you praised him, your hand moving down to the door handle and beginning to turn it, “I'm going to be out of contact for a while. I might still make it to dinner, but if I can't - please save me and the captain a plate!”

“Aye, sir!” he uttered again into the speaker, with a final, “Good luck with the captain!” Clicking aside the portable transponder, you thrust it into your pocket and shook aside your nerves. 

Hastily, you flung wide the door, turning immediately upon entering and facing the door as you clicked it locked behind you. As soon as you entered the space, the sounds of rough slapping of hands meeting skin, huffs of exasperated panting, groans and pleads falling from your captain's panicked lips alongside his panting mewls of pleasure flung themselves loudly and carelessly into the air. 

“Captain,” you whispered, your hands holding firm to the cloudy glass of your office door, “I know you're likely out of your own mind right now, but I'm going to tell you this anyway-.”

“-Fuck, what's happening to me? T-Tell me, please. Know I'm h-here. My h-head is here, I-I just-... ngmmh-...” he whined for you, the taste of your name tainting his tongue with desire and lust, “...don't judge me, please. I don't want this to change the image of myself in your head.”

Anticipation and a shameful wave of desire spread itself through your chest and ignited a throbbing need for your captain in your core. You knew this wouldn't be happening without this douse of pollen coursing through his veins, the raw need to chase his ecstacy within his fist behind you. 

“All th-this because I wanted t’get you a-... f-fucking gift t’ court you-...” Law confessed with a whispered hiss, his eyes raking over your body with lust and need, “...M’guessing this's from that f-fucking flower I got for you. Is-s there a cure?” 

A gasp flew from your lips at his confession, prompting you to almost glance over your shoulder at him. Deciding to give your captain a further shroud of decency, you halted your movement and chose your next words carefully. 

“There's no cure I can manufacture here, Sir,” you whisper over your shoulder, “But there is one that I know of-.”

“-F-Fuck, please get it. Whatever it is. Get the fucking cure before I lose the final bit of control I h-have,” he roared your name, barking his orders as the skid of the iron legs of the chair backwards, raking against the steel floor. You jumped in shock, the shifting of material scattering prompted you to become more aware of his feral urges further.  

Just as you began to turn your body to face your captain, two inked hands slammed against your own on the cloudy glass, prying them apart with a vice-like grip. Fingers laced between yours, his face fell in the crook of your shoulder as he deeply inhaled the scent of your perfume. He groaned at the feeling of his bare cock grinding in between the divet in your ass above your boiler suit, a shocked gasp fell from your lips in response. 

“Fuck you smell good,” he moaned, his lips latching on your pulse as his tongue swirled against you, “Taste even fucking better.” You whined as his teeth sunk into your neck, his rhythmic grinding not easing against your clothed flesh. 

His mind was hazy, his body was reacting to every subtle change in your voice and wavering breaths. As soon as you entered the room, it took all of his strength and will to not enter a state of frenzy and fuck into you with the deep ferocity of a wild beast. He owed you better than that. He wanted you to want him too, and if that meant holding onto his sanity by tooth and nail: so be it. 

“Captain-,” you gasped as his right hand left yours to paw at the front zipper of your jumpsuit. 

“-Law,” he growled his correction at you, “It’s Law, or anything other than my title or ‘sir’. Y-You-... fuck, sweetheart-... I n-need you. Please let me? Let me have you? Please?”

Slotting his hand over your chest, his fingers eagerly sought your left breast beneath the cup of your uniformed lingerie. He hastily rolled the peaked nub within his thumb, index and middle fingers; a cry of pleasure emanating from your throat as you threw your head back onto his shoulder. 

“We can talk about it later,” he whispered into your ear, pinching at your nipple as he bit your earlobe, “Know that I wanted you before all this-... F-fuck-...but I need you now.”

He hastily turned you in his arms, splitting the top part of your boiler suit back and shedding it from your body as he claimed your lips beneath his. Allowing his primal desires to take the reins, he continued breaking you out of your clothes to match his own nudity: pinning you against the door with his rutting hips. 

“What do I need to do? Tell me,” he moaned into your skin, his teeth catching on your own as you reciprocated his touch, “Guide me, my north star. Show me wh-what I gotta do.”

“Law,” you moaned for him, his body immediately pulling to you like iron to a magnet. Shedding the last of your clothes over your ankles, he used his feet to kick off your shoes. Cupping your thighs, he hoisted you into the air and hooked your knees over his hips. 

“My north star,” he moaned into your skin, his lips clinging to every amount of flesh exposed to him, “You're the cure. You're the cure, aren't you? My body is telling me you are.” You moaned for him as he carried you over to your desk, lying you on the cool surface and hovering over your body. 

“Anyone can be the cure for this, Law,” you confessed to him in a whimpering whisper, “It's the joining of bodies together that ends the torment. It's not me-.”

“-It is you,” he growled at you, hovering his lips just above yours and shaking from the amount of stress he placed himself under by holding back, “It's only ever been you. I need you. Better yet…” he lines his cock up with your glistening opening, the tip rubbing against your core prompting a small sob to exit from his lips. 

“...I crave you,” his arms shook beneath his weight, the sheen of sweat pooling from his temple beneath his only hair down to his whiskered chin, “Always wanted you. Let me have you. Please say you'll let me have you.”

“You have me,” you confessed, tracing your arms over his quivering forearms down to his hips, clawing him to draw him nearer. Guiding his cock within your entrance, you angle his hips as his brow sets deep within its furrow. 

“I feel like I'm gonna explode,” he confessed in a strangled whisper, “I-I’m sorry. I'm so, so sorry.” 

“It's okay, it's okay,” you soothed him with your calming voice, your thumbs pressing circular motions against his hip bones as he slid his cock to the hilt within you, “Use me, it's okay.”

As soon as the length of Law's cock slid to the back of your walls, he entered into a bliss he never would've imagined. His vision struck white, electricity sparking the flames of his encumbering lust as he shot you deep with spurts of his sticky cum. 

Barely having time to adjust to his size, he was already crying out for you. He immediately burst with his passionate release painting your gummy walls white, praising you for your gift to him while sobbing in deep pleas of anguish. 

“Fuck, I'm c-cumming. I'm f-fucking cumming. I'm already-...” He mewled your name, huffing as he barely began moving within you, “...I'm s-sorry, I'm so sorry. I-I-... hhah, fuck-... I'm sorry-... nngh- s-so good.”

You pawed at his ass, clutching onto his checks and held him deep within you, hips flush with your own. The twitches of his muscles all rippled with the expulsion of the final waves of his cum deep within you. 

“I'm sorry,” he repeated in a whisper, alongside chanting your name like a prayer, “I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay, love, I know,” you hushed him, his body collapsing atop your own and caging you beneath him on your desk. You drew your hands up to his damp hair, fingers brushing away the strands and cradling him close. 

Finally collecting his breath, his heartbeat slowing to a more forgiving beat, he refused to tear his face away from the crease of your neck and shoulder. Embarrassment at, not only, the hasty release of his cum within you had a red hue illuminating Law’s face. He was also appalled at the fact his surprise gift for you was a toxic aphrodisiac, one he fell within the snare of with no known cure. 

“Law, look at me,” you cooed down at him, prompting him to nuzzle his pouting face deeper into your skin. You tried your best to stifle your giggle to no avail - your laughter aimed at his utter childishness. 

“Law,” you chastised him, angling the heels of your palms down to collect his cheeks, “C’mon, love. Let me see those pretty eyes of yours. Look at me.”

He huffed out a breath of exasperation, finally tearing his face away from your shoulder and bringing his pouty face up to meet yours. His eyebrows were knit in a single point in the middle of his face, his eyes wide and filled with shame. 

“I'm sorry, herbalist,” he acknowledged your formal rank, his cock still deeply held within you, “I am better than this. I-I promise I'm better than this.” You arched a single brow up with your growing smirk. 

“Herbalist?” you parroted back at him, brushing your nose against his, “What happened to my name, or ‘my North Star’? I quite liked that one,” his blush deepened, the dark dusting of vibrant red cascading over his nose, cheeks and tips of his ears. 

“Well, what happened to ‘love’, huh? Where'd that go?” he quipped back at you, gliding his reducing cock out of your walls, releasing the floodgates of his excessive load of cum expelling from your pussy. He shifted himself away, glancing down at the expulsion of his cum dripping onto your office floor. 

“Fuck,” he shuddered out in a small whispered groan, “That was a bit more than I thought there would be. Room…” he extended his left hand upwards, the spatter on the floor and still within you vanishing with a further utterance of, “...Shambles.”

A small splash of water fell onto the floor, and a small spurt against your groin. You shot Law a quizzical look, prompting a smirk to rise on his cheeks. 

“I tried washing my face in your sink as soon as I got a waft of the flower dust in my face,” he shrugged before nodding his head over to your herbalist station, “Water was still in it.”

Smiling, you leant up with your elbows behind your back, looking at the man who was priorly all consumed with feral lust. He looked accusingly at the pale flower in the small pot beside your naturopathic remedial herbs, eyes narrowed and lip snarling. 

“It's the last time I'm buying you a fucking plant,” he muttered, turning to meet his eyes with yours, “Without checking with you first, of course,” he reached down with his right hand, smiling as you accepted his hand, “I want to buy you all the plants you could ever want,” he aided you to rise to your feet, guiding your hands to lace behind his neck. 

“Thank you, love,” you smiled at him, prompting his eyes to crease with his own joy at the return of your name for him. 

“Anything for my north star,” he pressed a gentle kiss atop your head, “My guiding light,” his lips trailed down to brush against the apple of your cheek, “My pretty map spiriting me home to hold you in my arms again,” he snaked his forearms around your waist, his smiling lips collecting yours beneath his. 

Parting your lips, he angled his head to the side and pressed several waves of passionate caresses against your mouth. He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, dipping his knees to elevate you within the air, his smile widening at the small squeak of surprise you released from your mouth to his. 

He placed you onto the floor again, chasing your retreating lips as you arched your back to press your exposed chest against his. The warmth of your skin spread from your body onto his, the heat radiating from his body engulfing your own with a warm infusion of radiant bliss. 

“You absolute sappy romantic,” you teased him as you broke from the kiss shared with him, “Didn't know you had all that in you. You must really like me.”

Scoffing back his laughter at your taunt, he squeezed your body against his. You laughed at his playful expression, leaning up to press a small kiss against his whiskered chin. 

“Alright. Fuck you, you brat,” he laughed, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous grin, “I was gonna let you top me, use me to get your own release from me, but now- ohhhh, now,” he shuddered a sinister whisper down at you, “Now you're gonna get it.”

“I'm absolutely shaking,” you taunted him further, your teeth nipping at his jaw, “Shaking, quivering and cowering.”

“Not now, you're not,” he growled at you, lifting you within his arms and hooking your knees over his hips once more, “But you fucking will be when I'm done with you.”

[mechaknight-98]

Enchantment (NSFW) FT Arin

Author's note: a birthday gift for the birthday girl.

“Oh god yes keep going,” Arin moaned as I stuck my tongue deep into her cavern as she rode my face. Despite her suffocating me with her thighs and ass I had never felt more Alive. Her body drove me crazy and I loved how loud she got when I gave her a good fuck.

“Keep going Daizo,” Arin moaned as she squeezed my face with increasing fervor. Arin screamed as she came again before I could react she got up and said

“I can’t take it anymore Daizo. Fuck this pussy like you own it.” She said as she shook her ass seductively. I couldn’t take it anymore either I needed to fuck her brains out. I lined my cock with her pussy and without thinking I gave a deep and long thrust. Arin moaned like a banshee before it turned into mewls as she stared at me with a vacant but lustful gaze. Everything about this woman made me lose it. The velvety grip of her folds was almost too much and I almost came as I entered her. I start thrusting and marvel at how her thighs and ass bounce and jiggle hypnotically. “Fuck Arin your ass is so perfect I just want to spank it,” I say enraptured. Arin looks back with a cheeky smile

“then spank it!” She says exited. I smile at the small woman as I begin to smack her perfect ass. “Oh god yes,” she moans as I fuck and spank her at alternating intervals.

“Oh god, you’re so deep,” Arin moans again before I feel a familiar feeling as her walls tighten and convulse around me. Her climax hits her like a truck out of nowhere. She cums all over my cock as I try to fight my impending orgasm but Arin is having none of it.

“Cum for Daizo fill my perfect pussy. Come on cum for me,” she says and her pussy tightens again which sends me over the edge as my cock desperately expels its contents as if it will die if my cum stays in my balls. Arin smiles I look as she is caught in the orgasm afterglow. It keeps me hard inside her but she pushes me off.

“Thanks, babe for the appetizer. When we get back home I’ll have the full three-course meal.” She said with a smile as she ready for work. I nod a little sad that I can’t fill her up again but I gotta be responsible as does she. We avoid each other as we get both get ready to go to our respective jobs (we do this so we don’t fuck the morning way as we have done a couple of times throughout the year.) After we finished she hopped into my car and I dropped her off at work her outfit made her look like a slutty school girl so I said, “Have a nice day sweetie.” Arin smiled as she left. Then I went to my office job where she fluttered around in my mind. During my lunch break, I’d get a cute text from her saying

“I can’t wait for that full three-course meal babe,” I’d laugh of course, and text back “lol”. Sadly the rest of the day seemed to drag on. Which annoyed me but it was no big deal. As the day wrapped up, I got back in my car. I was exhausted mentally. I almost considered driving my car off the roof of the parking structure I was in when I got a godsend text.

“See you soon babe. Hugs and kisses”

Like an enchantment spell, I was dissuaded from pursuing self-harm as I started my car to go to my lovely girlfriend.

[corruptedcaps]

Brat App

Ugh why did Mom have to marry the Dad of that bitch Alison?! As if being bullied at school isn’t enough now I have to get it at home too? I guess it’s not all bad though because I was able to hack into Alison’s phone and invite myself onto the exclusive ‘Brat App’ that Alison and her friends are all on. No idea what it is but with any luck I’ll find out some dirt on Alison to get her finally expelled so I can have some peace.

Hmmm this just looks to be some sort of social status game with challenges built on top. Every challenge has a ‘Brat’ value associated with it. So the more challenges a person does the higher up the leaderboard they climb and the higher up the rank. No big shock that Alison is sitting at the top as a level 10! Which gives her the rank of ‘Brat Queen’ which appropriate. By my calculations that would be…. nearly 10,000 points! Wow she must be addicted to this game. Looks like I got 1,000 bonus just for signing up and I can spend it on my little avatar of myself. Let’s see what I can buy. Sure why not, let’s improve her eyesight.…

Holy crap what just happened? My body feels all tingly and different. My glasses are making my eyes blurry. Did… did this app just cure my eyesight? This is unbelievable! What else can it do… more athletic, long nails, thick hair, big boobs, perfect posture. It makes sense now! All these challenges are real life challenges! This is how Alison is the hottest most feared girl in school! Ok new plan, if I raise the ranks of this app, and surpass Alison’s score then she’ll have to listen to me and become nicer. How hard could it be? I’m already at level one after all and these challenges don’t seem that difficult….

Bold makeup. Check. Revealing dress. Check. And that’s net me… let’s see here. 50 points? At this rate I’ll finish college before I have enough points! I need more bigger ticket items. Let me redeem these pathetic points at least. Mmmm nothing changed but it did give me a nice little tingle. Ok for 1000 points I need to… send some nudes?! Absolutely not! Alison hasn’t even done that! For another 1000 I need to suck a married cock? How vile! Ok this is more doable. Spread a vicious rumor about a classmate for 300. I could do that I guess. Hmmm I have to post it directly to the app so it can’t be about Alison or any of her friends. I know, I’ll say something about Lisa the unfortunate overweight girl in our class. She’ll never see it. I’ll say she was banned from Dairy Queen for breaking in and eating their whole stock. And send! Ohhhh somethings happening!

Oh god my tits! They’ve gone up like two sizes! But why? Hmmm looks like I hit some hidden ‘Bitch Bonus’ by doing that challenge. This is amazing and all I had to do was make fun of that whale Lisa. I know it was mean but it feels so fucking good! She’ll be fine it’s not like anyone will believe it anyway. <ding> ohhh that felt nice, what was it? Oh one of Alison’s friends liked my post. <ding> mmmm another one of her friends liked my post! Every like is 10 points and feels so gooood! <ding> oh fuck yesss girls keep liking! It feels so hawt! Maybe I should spread a few more lies…

Mmmm my body feels so much better in these clothes I redeemed! After only a few more rumors I got easily up to level 5, ‘Beta Bitch’, which unlocked my beautiful nails, my gorgeous silky hair, my perfect makeup, and all the knowledge to maintain them. Even my body is better shape, I’m so flexible now! Not to say anything about my lovely big tits! Alison’s friends seemed to really enjoy my wicked little rumours. I can’t deny it wasn’t fun writing them and it was even better getting the likes for them!

But I do feel kind of bad for all those losers I wrote stuff about though, I think the Brat App is effecting not just my body but my mind too. I feel so nasty and mean everytime I use it and even more now in this tight blouse and short skirt. I can’t help if I’m hotter than those dorks now! No that’s the app’s influence talking! I have to stop using the app, but I need to topple Alison! Ugh what do I do? <ding> what’s this? I’ve unlocked a new bonus. ‘Morality Suppression’? Hmmm that would solve my problems I guess and there is an option to turn it off later. Ok I’m going to do it! It’s for the good of the school after all. Here goes…

Ohhhhh fuck yesss that sooo much better. Like hell this is for the good of the school this is for the good of me! I feel so fucking free now. To think I was feeling regret for those pathetic fattys and geeky nerds I was writing about! I only regret not writing more! The only people worth anything are my bratty followers who like my posts and even they need to know their place and they will when I surpass Alison and become the new Queen bee. Oh fuck I feel so horny being this bad! I need some release and quick! Mmmm maybe I can finally tick off some of these challenges old me was too much of a loser to attempt. Mmmm yesss those will raise my rank in no time! Oh I have the perfectly wicked idea that will make me a bratty goddess by the end of the day! Oh step daddy!

Changed? Nonsense step daddy I’ve always looked like this. I’m a spoilt wicked little bitch just like your precious daughter, only you can fuck me. What’s the matter step daddy? Cat got your tongue? I bet you always wanted to fuck your mean little princess didn’t you? But you’re a good man and would never do that would you? But guess what? I’m not your daughter but I’m everything she is and more. Would you like a look under my shirt? Sure you would.

Hehe I see you like it step daddy. The outline of your cock is practically bursting out of your pants. Mmm and it looks so impressive. Let me have a peek <zip> oh step daddy, I can see why mommy married you. You’re so big! It’s making my mouth water. I need to have it step daddy, please say yes! I know you’re still hesitant so maybe it might convince you if I stopped calling you step daddy and instead called you… daddy. Mmm you like that don’t you… daddy? You want to put that big cock in my mouth and have my perfect pink lips suck it don’t you… daddy?

Mmmm thanks daddy for the great fucking, you’ve helped me complete so many nasty challenges. Suck a married cock. Check. Fuck an older man. Check. Call him daddy. Mmmm double check. After everything we got up to I completed over a dozen challenges, more than enough to take you bitch of a daughter’s crown. I just have to redeem the points now and assume the throne…. Mmmm it feels so good but something different is happening… oh fuck something amazing is happening!

Mmmm oh fuck yessss! Look at me, I’m a blonde busty bitch now! Im older and sexier and I feel so fucking nasty and hawt but how is this possible? Oh I see I unlocked a new challenge tree and a new rank. Mmmm ‘Homewrecker’ I love the sound of that! Who needs to be a bratty queen when I could be the wicked bitch that stole her daddy instead. Thats right darling, I’ve levelled up to being your mistress now and if you’re lucky and do as I say soon I’ll unlock ‘Trophy Wife’ and you can spoil me rotten as you should. Don’t worry I’ll still call you daddy, it makes everything feel so much more naughty. My mother? You mean that old crone Emma? She’s not my mother anymore, she not even my rival, she’s just an obstacle to our love, isn’t that right? Mmmm I knew you’d agree…. Daddy.

EPILOGUE

Alison was wondering what her father was doing that was taking so god damn long that he couldn’t have sent a car or something to pick her up from the mall like he promised. She had spent so much on his credit card that she was surrounded by high end boutique bags. Just when she was reaching her finally straw she got a message from him telling her he had sent a friend, some woman by the name of Gabrielle, to pick her up. Alison hadn’t heard of any Gabrielle before, except maybe her new dorky step sister but she went by Gabby anyway.

Following her father’s instructions to Gabrielle, Alison’s mouth was agape when she turned the corner to find a stunning blonde waiting for her. The blonde looked at Alison with distain and made Alison feel insignificant for the first time in her life. She didn’t like it. Gabrielle didn’t let up with her stare down, enjoying the way Alison averted her gaze. Alison meanwhile was grateful that their encounter was going to brief.

“So you’re Ted’s daughter? Hmmm I expected somebody a little more… impressive.” Gabrielle said not willing to hide her distaste. If this was anyone else Alison would have ground them to dust with only a few choice words but she felt so intimidated as she got into the car with the blonde bitch.

So much so that her phone dinged to tell her she lost some Brat points for her weakness. She had never lost points before! Gabrielle smirked to herself as she looked at her own phone and saw her points climb. She couldn’t wait become a wicked step mother.

[wordstome]

symbiote König x reader

I'm not allowed to start any new aus/stories until I finish a few, but I need to expel these worms from my brain. (also remind me to write something about Eddie Brock/Symbiote Ghoap x reader later)

I don't know if you guys know much about Venom lore, but symbiotes don't have a default system of morality: they take on the same traits and moral values as their hosts. They were created as a sort of world-conquering mindless evil force, but when symbiotes bonded to hosts who wanted to do good, they took on those moralities and became ashamed of their purpose. After they imprisoned the dude who made them to be evil (Knull, btw) they just made up a lie that their species was naturally benevolent.

So picture this: symbiote König who's been captured alongside several others of his kind and brought to Earth by the Life Foundation to study their abilities. I like the idea of symbiote König being similar to Eddie Brock's Venom: he's had bad and good hosts, but the bad ones fucked him up really bad, so now he's the König we know: arrogant and confident in his proficiency in violence, but deeply awkward, lonely, and lost. Getting kidnapped and taken to yet another foreign planet to be poked and prodded and experimented on is just his luck.

But then there's you. A pretty little scientist, not much more than a lab assistant, really. Your first encounter with him consists of you touching a finger to the glass of his prison, and him, curious, moving himself to press his inky dark goop where your skin presses against the glass. You giggle before quickly remembering yourself and skittering away. Symbiotes aren't fond of sounds, but he wouldn't mind hearing that one again...

It's little encounters like that that endears you to him. It didn't take him long to decide he hated humans: they're slow and unintelligent and nowhere near as elegant of a killer as he is, and yet they've managed to trap him and torment him. He's quickly noted as being the most unpredictable and violent of the captured symbiotes. But he likes you, who visits him and talks to him. To you, it doesn't mean much: you may as well be talking to a lab rat, finding an outlet to vent your frustrations about your insane work hours, demanding managers, and meagre pay. To him, he's absorbing everything you tell him, longing to touch you without glass in the way. What would it be like to bond with you, he wonders? To merge symbiote with flesh, and become two moving as one?

He'd like to be inside you, in more ways than one perhaps.

He may have fucked that up, though. It wasn't his fault, that day. They were starving him, these idiotic humans, starving all of them. He had no choice but to eviscerate and wholly consume the poor man sent into his glass cage. But you had been watching, eyes wide in terror, as blood and viscera burst everywhere. If he had a heart, it would have ached as he watched you skitter away...

And yet...there may be something deeply wrong with you, just as there is something wrong with him. Because you're back the next day, a new fascination in your eyes. Instead of talking at him, you talk to him now, asking him questions he only wishes he could answer. If he could just reach you, he could communicate...

König gets his wish the day it all goes awry. A whistleblower breaks in and makes off with one of his breathren, and the next person to stumble upon the scene is his little scientist, who doesn't hesitate to start smashing the glass of his prison. "It's not right," you mutter over and over again. "It's not right..."

He can detect your heartbeat speeding up as he drags himself across the floor to reach you. You shy away out of instinct, and he pauses. There are alarms ringing out now, awful terrible loud sounds, and he would prefer to get out of here immediately, but he refuses to do anything that would drive you away for good. He watches as you heave a deep shaky breath, then reach out a hand to him.

He glides up your hand and wrist, working his way into your body, the symbiosis instant and easy. You're a perfect match. He knew you would be. The armed guards burst through the door, but you have nothing to worry about as he envelops your body. You become a six foot ten behemoth, face hidden by what almost looks like a veil—something he picked up from a former host. You're barely aware of what's happening, too overwhelmed and confused to parse what's going on. But he knows what he's doing.

After he gets you to safety, the two of you will have all the time in the world to get to know each other.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 55: Lily's Illusion

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: blindness, conditioning, hypnosis, body control, abuse, aftermath of hand whump

October 1925

Oliver's sleep was troubled, filled with nightmares where he couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't do anything to make his body obey him. Alexander's sire was shoving him below the waves, drowning him while he was helpless. Alexander was being tied up and tortured, and there was nothing Oliver could do for his master but watch, and --

He woke up in a cold sweat, heart pounding too fast. It was pitch black, and despite being wide awake and terrified, he couldn't open his eyes. He couldn't see where he was, couldn't remember, and cold hands came out of nowhere to grip him tight. In a panic, he screamed, kicking his assailant and struggling out of his grasp, thick blankets impeding his escape.

"Oliver!" said a familiar voice. "Oliver, it's only me. You're safe."

His master. That's where he was -- in his master's bedchambers, in his master's arms. He took a deep breath, trying to expel the fear from his body. He was safe, even though he still couldn't open his eyes.

Alexander gently pulled him in closer, and Oliver accepted it, relaxing back onto the bed. "Sorry, sir."

"No need to apologize. I understand completely. My sleep has also been uneasy, although much improved by your presence," he said. "Are you still blinded?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then we should head to Lily's as soon as you're ready," he said. "Although I suppose I'll have to help you dress and wash."

Oliver's face flushed. "Ah, I'm sure I can manage, sir…"

"Manage with your eyes closed? I won't have you falling down the stairs and harming yourself," he said with a tone that brooked no argument. "I'm going to pick you up now, all right?"

And Oliver felt himself being lifted by unnaturally strong arms, floating through the air with only his master as his tether to the world. Alexander seemed to sense his distress, as he hummed a tune under his breath as they walked, one that made Oliver's tense muscles relax. Despite that, the sensation of going down the stairs was still disconcerting.

"If you drop me off at the door to the bathroom, sir, I can take care of my business," said Oliver, hoping to retain some dignity.

"Very well, but I'm going to tend to your wounds afterwards. I need to make sure they're clean."

Oliver thankfully knew the layout of the bathroom well enough to find the toilet and sink, embarrassed at needing so much aid from his master and already quite tired of groping around in the dark. When he was finished, Alexander entered, removing his shirt to look at his back.

"It's terribly bruised, but the few cuts are shallow," Alexander murmured, applying some cool salve. "…You must think I'm a terrible coward for accepting my sire's command to strike you, rather than standing up to him."

"I don't, sir," he said, and it was almost true. "If you had tried, I don't doubt it would have been worse for both of us." He did know that, but in his heart, he wished that his master had protected him.

"There's only one way I can truly protect you," said Alexander, as though he had read Oliver's mind. "I need to kill him. It's easier said than done, of course, but… I will do it this time, or perish trying. I swear it."

Oliver didn't have to wonder what would happen to him in the entirely possible event that his master did perish trying. He'd no doubt end up in the hands of Alexander's sire, perhaps permanently, and the thought almost made him want to plead with Alexander not to try.

Instead, he shoved that unpleasant thought from his mind as best he could. "Will Miss Lily really be able to undo my punishment, sir?"

"I'm sure she will. Her mastery when it comes to controlling the human mind is unparalleled," he said. "And for enduring these latest hardships, I'll also make sure the pantry and icebox are well-stocked with whatever foods you favor. Anything you need."

"I appreciate it, sir."

"And the night after next, my dear friend Fitz arrives from overseas."

With everything that had happened lately, Oliver had nearly forgotten about his master's friend, and he was gripped by a wave of dread at the thought of another visiting vampire. "Is there anything I should know, sir, to better serve your friend?" he said, trying to feel out the situation.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that. Just be your usual self, and I'm sure he'll just adore you. He's been after me to get a decent thrall for ages, you know," said Alexander. "Just be patient with him, give us space when we ask for it, and -- oh, I'm sure he'll want to drink from you."

The place where the Maestro had dug his fangs into Oliver's neck throbbed with pain. "He will, sir?" said Oliver reluctantly.

"It won't be painful!" his master reassured him quickly. "Fitz is nothing like my sire. His feeding will be as gentle as mine. He won't harm you, I swear it."

"I'm glad of that, sir," said Oliver, who still couldn't quite calm his anxiety.

"It probably won't surprise you to learn that my sire is the reason Fitz fled this city and resides overseas," said Alexander. "When my sire is finally dusted, he'll return to me. He'll come live in the manor with his thrall, and we'll be together at last."

Oliver had never heard his master sound so wistful. "He must be very important to you, sir."

"I suppose you would figure out sooner or later that we're old lovers. Fitz certainly won't make a secret of it."

"Lovers?" He was sure he was unable to hide the surprise on his face. "I didn't realize you had any lovers, sir."

"I confess that it's often a painful subject for me. Less so when I know he's on a boat heading over the Atlantic at this very moment. We share a bond, you see, and I can tell by how miserable he is -- he's always been especially prone to seasickness," said Alexander fondly. "But as much as I'd like to spend the evening pining fruitlessly, we really should get to Lily's as early as we can, lest she head out for the night before we can consult her. I'll guide you to the bedroom and help you put on the clothes I've chosen for you."

Oliver let himself be guided without a fuss, still loathing the fact that he was so helpless that he wasn't even able to choose his own clothes. If Miss Lily couldn't help him, if he had to resign himself to weeks of blindness and lose even more of his remaining autonomy to his master, unable to even indulge in the simple joy of reading, he wasn't sure he could endure it.

Soon enough, they were stepping out into the chill fall evening, Alexander keeping a firm arm around Oliver to guide him through the streets. It was distressing to be able to hear other pedestrians on the sidewalk, to feel the uneven stones under his feet, without being able to open his eyes and see anything. He was entirely reliant on his master to navigate the familiar city, and if Alexander let go, Oliver would be immediately lost and helpless. Thankfully, he clung to Oliver tightly.

"We're here," said Alexander. "There are four steps in front of you - let me help you up them."

Oliver heard a loud knocking, then footsteps and a door creaking open.

"Oh, Lex!" said a familiar voice. "I thought you were my 9pm appointment arriving early. And what on earth happened to your hand?"

"Our sire's handiwork, of course. Are you taking customers today?" asked Alexander. "I hope you have some time to help us. It's a bit of an emergency."

"Come in, come in," said Lily, and Oliver felt himself being gently nudged forward into a very warm room. "You know very well I'll make the time, but I'd rather get started right away. I assume our sire has done something to Oliver?"

Alexander's hands rested on Oliver's shoulders. "He commanded Oliver to keep his eyes closed and now he can't open them. My poor thrall is quite blind."

"Oh, dear," she sighed. "That's a surprisingly mild punishment from him, though. He must have approved of Oliver."

"Oliver comported himself magnificently. The very picture of an ideal thrall," said Alexander, and Oliver's heart felt warm from the praise. "Another reason why he deserves to have his sight restored as soon as possible."

"Let me see." Oliver felt soft hands touch his face. "Oliver, dear, what did he tell you as he was forcing your eyes to close? The exact phrasing, if you can."

Oliver's memories felt muddled and hazy from fear and enthrallment, but he could remember that. "He told me he was placing lead weights on my eyes, sir, that they're too heavy for me to lift, and that he is the only one who can move them."

"All right. I believe I can work with that. Come with me. Lex, you stay out here, and if my 9pm arrives, try to keep her occupied with your sparkling wit and impeccable social skills."

"You can't be serious about that."

"Leaving your manor and socializing sometimes is good for you," she said, as she touched a hand to Oliver's back and pushed him along.

Oliver heard a door close behind him.

"Can you sit down, dear?"

She took his hand and placed it on the seat of a chair, and Oliver sat, sinking into the soft leather. He realized that the chair was awfully familiar -- the twin of the chair in Miss Lily's room at the auction house. The association caused his mind to fog and he couldn't keep from letting out a yawn, already three quarters of the way to trance.

"You remember, don't you?" said Lily, as she ran fingers through his hair and down his cheek. "So obedient, so docile. So sleepy. And so very, very quiet."

Oliver was utterly helpless against the tide of hypnosis gripping his mind. His head lolled backwards as he let out a soft groan. With his eyes already closed tight, it felt natural for sleep to wash over him.

"Quiet, Oliver, you're so quiet. You're sinking back down under my power now. You're completely safe with me. Safe for you to fall asleep, fall deep asleep. You're so drowsy, aren't you? A quiet, docile boy like you just wants to sleep and listen…"

She kept murmuring to him, but Oliver was already out like a light, quiet and sleepy and dreaming. After the terror of the previous night, it was so good to sleep so soundly, comfortable and content. Oliver felt like he could float in this pleasant dream forever.

That is, until he heard footsteps. Footsteps which did not belong to Lily or his master. Footsteps that were oddly light and perfectly in rhythm.

No, it couldn't be. That was impossible. There was no way that he was here --

But he could feel it already, the hold over his body, the feeling that his flesh and bones no longer belonged to him. He wasn't being manipulated, not yet, but he could sense it all around. He was here and in control, and Oliver could barely think through the numbing terror that gripped him.

"Wake up," said the musical voice of Alexander's sire, followed by a crisp snap. "I don't recall allowing you to sleep."

"I'm sorry, sir! I didn't mean to fall asleep." Oliver felt himself forced out of the chair and into a kneel, his back ramrod straight and his sweating hands clasped behind him. He couldn't budge an inch, and although he still couldn't open his eyes, he could feel that icy gaze boring into him.

"I don't understand why you think that disobedience out of poor self control is better than disobedience on purpose. Disobedience is disobedience."

"Yes, sir," said Oliver, trembling, waiting for a slap across his still tender cheek.

"I suppose, though, if you're to have any use as a servant, you'll need to have your eyes open, lest I have to puppet your wretched form everywhere," he said. "I will remove the weights on your eyes, and you will be appropriately grateful, and then you will serve me however I please."

Oliver swallowed nervously, dreading what the Maestro had in store for him. "Thank you very much for allowing me to serve you, sir."

"I will lift the heavy weight off each of your eyelids," he said, and Oliver felt something brush over his eyes, "and then you will graciously be allowed to open them on your own."

Despite being so eager to be cured earlier, Oliver was reluctant to open his eyes now, not wanting to face Alexander's sire once again, not understanding how he came to be here. But he had no choice. He opened his eyes…

…and there was Miss Lily standing before him.

He looked around in a panic. The Maestro was nowhere to be found, a phantom conjured by his own imagination and Miss Lily's mesmerism. "You…"

"He was the only one who could remove the command. I had to make your mind believe that I was him," she said. "I'm sorry for giving you such a fright, but it was the easiest way to undo what was done."

Oliver's heart was still pounding, unable to calm. "Yes, sir… thank you…"

"Poor dear, you're trembling like a leaf. Let me soothe you before sending you back to your master," she said. "Quiet now, Oliver. Quiet your frightened mind. You're safe here. It's only me."

"It's only you, sir…" said Oliver, sinking back into a merciful daze.

"That's right, and I take such good care of you, don't I?" she said with a smile. "You can relax now. Deep breaths, Oliver dear, deep breaths. Let all that tension out. Let that fear fade away. Let your mind be so, so quiet."

Oliver followed her instructions, taking deep breaths, and soon he did feel calmer, the terror of the hypnotic illusion fading. It was only a dream, one which could fade away into the obedient quiet of his enthralled mind.

"Lex is always singing your praises when he talks to me, you know," said Lily. "You're an absolute natural at serving a vampire, just as I knew you would be. Doesn't it make you feel good to serve Lex?"

It was both question and command, reinforcing his conditioning, and Oliver fell into it easily. "I very much enjoy serving Lex, sir."

"Of course you do, sweet boy. You've been so brave, and you deserve to feel good." She patted Oliver on the head one last time. "Now, if you're feeling better, why don't I return you to your master?"

"Yes, sir," said Oliver, feeling like a weight had been lifted from more than his eyes.

They left the stark conditioning room and stepped out into Miss Lily's home, which was done up very differently from Alexander's, filled with bright colors, fussy details, and homespun knick-knacks. A fat black cat ran up to Miss Lily and began winding around her ankles, and she scooped it up and gave it a kiss on the head. "This is Luna," she said. "Her brother Sunny is probably off on Miriam's lap."

"Hello, Luna," said Oliver, giving her a scritch.

As they walked down the hallway, Oliver could hear a steady stream of excited patter. "…and then I told him, is that really an appropriate place to take a lady on a date? And you know what he said? He said, well, they hardly ever hold horse racing at night, so I thought you'd like to see it. And I said, I can't see a blessed thing even with a vampire's eyesight. And then --"

They entered the parlor, where Alexander was sitting on a frilly gingham couch and nodding politely to everything a young woman was saying. She was done up in the latest fashions, and had a scrawny-looking man on a leash, kneeling at her feet. He looked at Oliver with fear in his eyes, pleading, as though there were anything Oliver could do.

"Ah, you had an appointment for 9pm, I believe?" said Miss Lily to the woman. "I appreciate your patience. I had an emergency job, but I'm free to take your thrall to the conditioning room now."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all!" she chirped. "I've been having a lovely time with Lord Alexander here." She stood up and handed the man's leash over to Miss Lily. "Just a thorough reconditioning for obedience and contentment, please. The place I bought him from did such an awful job -- you can see how distressed he is, and you should see the faces he pulls when it's time to feed. He's already escaped twice and I had to waste so much time tracking him."

"Of course, it's my pleasure," she said.

"No…" The thrall was backing away from Miss Lily, practically choking himself with his own leash. "No, please…"

Miss Lily knelt down and pet his head like one would a dog. "It's all right, dear, you'll see. Why don't you just relax? Just relax. Calm and peaceful, okay? I'm not gong to hurt you. Everything's going to be okay."

Oliver watched in fascination as the fear bled away from the thrall's expression, his eyes fixed on Miss Lily's and becoming glassy and dazed. He couldn't help but wonder if he wore a similar expression when he was under Miss Lily's spell.

"That's a good dear. So relaxed and at ease," she cooed. "You're going to feel so much better after you've had a session with me, I promise."

The thrall glanced up at Oliver, as if looking for some kind of confirmation. Oliver remembered how terrified he was the first time he had gone in for conditioning. "She's right," he said with a smile. "It's not scary at all, it's just like having a really good sleep, and you'll feel great afterwards."

"See?" said Miss Lily. "There's nothing to be scared of." She turned to Lex. "Sorry I can't stay around and chat, but I should get started on this session."

"Of course. We'll take our leave, and call on you another night," he said. "Oh, and Lily, before I go -- are you free on Friday night? Fitz will be in town, and I was hoping we could all go to the Tiger's Eye."

"Ooh, I wouldn't miss it," she said. She stood and ruffled Oliver's hair. "You'll be a good boy for our dear friend Fitz, won't you?"

"Yes, Miss Lily."

"Then I'll see you two soon enough, I'm sure. Have a good evening!"

"Are you feeling better?" Alexander asked as they stepped back out into the cool night air. "You're certainly looking much better."

"Yes, much better, sir. Thank you very much for taking me to Miss Lily," Oliver said. Now that he could see once again, he could see that the night was clear, the sky filled with a thousand brilliant stars. "Do you think we could go for a walk before returning home, sir? I could use the fresh air."

"I think that's a splendid idea," said Alexander, wrapping his arm around Oliver's once more.

Oliver saw the thick wad of bandages wrapped around his master's hand, and quite against his will he remembered the sickening smell of burnt flesh in the air. "Sir, your hand…"

"I've told you before that it will heal, but I appreciate your concern for me," said his master with a warm smile. "Your health and company is all the balm I need to soothe my pains tonight."

Thanks to Miss Lily, he was so obedient, so eager to please. "I'm glad that I can be helpful to you, sir."

"Always, Oliver. Don't doubt it for a minute."

Previous > Masterlist > Next

I always enjoy writing Lily! Next week, the beginning of a three-parter involving a masquerade ball and Fitz's very impulsive decisions.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole

[sapphire-writes]

Playing with Fire (part 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

summary: Your wedding approaches along with the bedding ceremony and wedding night. Your husband has a delicious surprise prepared.

warnings: 18+ nsfw, explicit spicy scenes (p in v, all the bases being covered, oral, fingering), do not interact if you don't want spice

word count: 3.7k

note: thanks for being patient, I hope this gives you all the spicy feels!

read more of my work here! 💚

“I cannot believe this day has come,” your mother says, with tears in her eyes as she smoothes the gown you wear. 

It is beautiful, a creamy ivory color made of silks that cling to every curve of your body, the skirts cascading towards the floor.

“Now, my darling,” your mother says, clasping her hands in yours, “there are responsibilities you need to attend to tonight.”

The bedding ceremony. When the lords and ladies who attend the feast tear at the bride and groom, ripping the silks from their bodies like paper from a package. Gooseflesh appears as you think about it.

“The marriage bed is nothing to be afraid of,” your mother assures you, eyes kind and warm. 

You feel conflicted with the different stories you have heard from other ladies losing their maidenheads. 

“Prince Aegon shall be kind to you,” your mother says, stroking your cheek.

Will he? Aegon is many things, but kind you are not sure is one of them. In fact, Aemond had told you as much. 

The wedding ceremony itself is a blur, a whirlwind of silks and smiles as you are carted to the castle sept and presented before Aegon. You feel as though you are in a dream as he places the cloak of House Targaryen on your back. 

Now you suppose you are a dragon as well.

Aegon smiles at you and kisses you sweetly as a prince should when your vows are spoken. His eyes are lustful, his smile predatory. Now he has you in his jaws, your neck stuck between his teeth. The feeling both terrifies and excites you. 

“Congratulations, my lady,” Aemond says, giving you a soft smile later at the feast. 

Your heart flutters hearing his voice. Aemond was rather stoic during the ceremony, keeping off to the side alongside his sister Helaena. You had tried speaking to him after your engagement was announced, but there never seemed to be time. Aemond was an evasive creature, hard to catch like one of Helaena’s butterflies. 

“Aemond,” you breathe him in, “many thanks, my prince.”

You stand beside him in silence for a moment as the feast continues around you. Aemond places his hands behind his back as you take a sip from your cup.

“I must admit, I did not expect to be chosen,” you tell him, warm from the wine. 

“You are an excellent choice,” Aemond insists, causing you to blush. 

“You are too kind, my prince,” you tell him, “your flattery shall go to my head.”

“I should hope so,” Aemond says, causing you to look at him. 

He notices your empty cup, before wrapping his fingers around it, expelling it from your grip. His fingers leave a tingling sensation behind on your own. 

“You are a delightful woman, you should be understanding of that,” he continues, giving the cup to a servant who passes by. 

You bashfully glance toward the floor. Aemond was a kind man, something you felt ashamed to admit you never thought of before meeting him. The tales of the cold prince fluttered throughout the ladies of court just as much as Aegon’s lecherous reputation.

“Are you nervous about your wedding night?” Aemond asks, and you feel yourself blush. 

“Would you believe me if I said no?” you ask and he chuckles.

“You needn’t be afraid, my lady,” Aemond assures you. 

There is a look in his violet eye, as though he is sure of the words he speaks. Without a shadow of a doubt in his mind that he speaks the truth. You wet your lips, looking toward the head table. Aegon is seated, a goblet of wine dangling from his fingers. He has just finished speaking with his mother when his gaze falls on you and Aemond.

Aegon’s eyes are half-lidded, and a lazy smile appears on his face revealing his teeth. A dragon lapping its jaws. His eyes flicker from you to Aemond, before he raises his goblet, as though toasting you both. You can feel your face drain of color. 

You do hope you have not upset him. 

“I suppose I should attend to my husband,” you tell Aemond, who nods in agreement. His gaze flickers about your face, as though attempting to read your thoughts. 

Aegon stands when you reach him, arm lacing around your waist.

“What says, my brother?” Aegon murmurs, placing a kiss below your ear causing you to shiver.

“He wished to share his congratulations,” you inform him, as his hand reaches to stroke your cheek, maneuvering himself so he can continue to kiss your neck.

Something you’ve begun to learn about Aegon is that it is never just one kiss, a trail of them follows. 

“Mhmm,” Aegon seems pleased by your answer, continuing his adoration of your neck, down to your collarbone. 

You feel the color returning to your face, and spot Aemond watching from across the room. So very strange, you think to yourself, to always be passed between the stares of the dragon princes. 

Later that night, the door closes behind Aegon, clicking shut.

Aegon circles you; he is a predator finally cornering his prey. His eyes hungrily indulge in your form that shows through your sheer shift. Your gown had been removed long ago, as lords prepared you for the bedding. 

A chaotic moment it was, to feel tens of hands on you, pulling and tearing at the fabrics of your gowns, pulling the ornaments from your hair. Aegon was stripped as well, Cassandra Baratheon had pushed herself to the front helping herself to tear at the laces of his breeches. 

Your skin feels hot under Aegon’s gaze now as you stand so bare before him, as though his eyes produce dragonfire searing your flesh. 

You wonder if you’ll ever stop feeling this burning for him. 

Aegon walks over to you, only wearing a loose white shirt. He reaches for a cup that lies on the table, taking a quick sip, before holding it out to you. 

You take it from him, mirroring his actions. 

“Are you nervous?” he asks, voice rough with desire. He is clearly holding himself back from ravishing you on the stone floor. 

You feel your cheeks grow warm. This is it, this is truly happening. You find yourself nodding, eyes cast toward the floor. You wish you were not so shy, so embarrassed under his gaze. You know his experience, and you wonder what he expects of you. 

Aegon clicks his tongue, placing a finger underneath your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

“There is no need to be,” he assures you, giving you a comforting grin. 

You cannot help but smile back, there is something about Aegon that does that. He melts the fear from your body like freshly fallen snow. He cups your cheek with his hand, bringing your mouth to his. 

The kiss is passionate, he slices your lips open with his tongue before plunging it into your mouth. The feeling of his tongue in your mouth sends a sharp feeling of desire trickling down your navel to the place beneath your small clothes. Aegon’s hands are very busy, the one that guides your face trails down to hold your waist, pressing you against him while the other cups your bottom. 

All the while he is walking you backward, toward the bed. He is very skilled; you cannot help but notice how easy it is for him to guide you, to touch and squeeze you in places that have you gasping against his mouth. 

“Do not be afraid,” Aegon murmurs, “I prepared this evening with only your utmost pleasure in mind.”

As he says this, his fingers find their way underneath your shift, touching you through your small clothes. He lets out a moan at the wetness he finds there, before pushing his fingers past the barrier, stroking them through your silky folds.

You let out a dramatic whine, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the lewd sound. Aegon merely takes this as encouragement, teasing at your entrance with his finger. 

“I have to get you ready,” he tells you, through his kisses, before pushing a finger into your constricting, wet heat. 

He curls the digit within you, pressing his thumb against the sensitive bud that lies at the top of your folds, causing you to writhe against him at the newfound bliss.

“That’s it,” he says, drinking in your mewls and moans, before slipping a second finger inside of you. 

“Aegon, oh,” you moan against his mouth as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, slowly working you open. He sinks his teeth into your lower lip and something peaks inside of you, causing pleasure to roll across your skin, down your spine, all the way to your toes. 

Your legs wobble, as Aegon leads you toward the bed, tearing your shift over your head, leaving you naked before him. His eyes trail down your figure, truly devouring you as though a man famished. A smile breaks out across his face.

“Lay back, my love,” he instructs, removing the remainder of his clothes as you obey him. 

He climbs on top of you, kissing you again, lips trailing down your neck, over the swell of your breasts. He lavishes the peaks of your breasts with attention, tongue swirling around your nipples. You can feel his cock nudging at your entrance and take a breath. 

“It’s alright,” he tells you, kissing the tip of your nose, “I’m right here with you, bite on me if you need.”

You nod as he begins to push into you, the stretch causing you to gasp. It is much more than his fingers, and you find yourself taking him up on his offer, sinking your teeth into his shoulder.

Aegon whines at this, hips slapping against you. The pain ebbs at that moment, a wave of pleasure rolling through you. 

You make love like that for quite some time, Aegon finding his release, emptying his seed deep within your womb. But he is not a man easily satisfied. Nearly moments after his release, his cock hardens, and he turns you around on your hands and knees to take you as though he is more beast than man. 

You do not mind, the new position sends moans pouring from your mouth as he plows you into the feathered pillows. 

There is a sharp knock on the door, causing your head to snap up. You turn slightly to look behind you at Aegon, panic flashing across your face. His smile is wide as he continues to drill into you so hard your arms shake trying to hold yourself up.

“Enter!” Aegon calls.

“Aegon!” you desperately call, earning a sharp slap on your backside. 

What the seven hells is he doing?

The door is heard opening, and footsteps in the antechamber. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you can’t stop whimpering as Aegon’s cock splits you in two. 

“Come in, come in,” Aegon says, fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts harder, faster. 

Your eyes are wide as you hold up your lolling head, prepared to meet the eyes of some knight who shall surely be utterly horrified at the sight of Prince Aegon ruining his new bride in this animalistic position. 

You instead see Aemond Targaryen.

Shame courses through you, and you feel as though your entire body has ignited in flames. You meet his eye but quickly look away, letting your elbows fall into the feather mattress. Aegon’s strokes slow, but do not stop. 

“Brother,” he says, rather formally, “was there something you needed?”

Aemond is staring at you, watching as you try to hide your face, your body from him. 

“My lady,” Aemond addresses you directly. Always a polite man. Seven hells. 

You do not answer, fingers clutching the sheets of the bed. Perhaps Aegon can fuck you so hard into the mattress you shall disappear altogether. Aegon has different plans. He tangles a hand in your hair, lifting your head, and forcing you to look at Aemond. 

“My brother addressed you, dearest,” Aegon says, “do not be rude.”

A whimper leaves your lips.

“My prince,” you someone managed to say, as Aegon has begun to increase the rhythm of his strokes. 

Aemond nods, slowly walking closer to the bed. You do not know where to look, you wish he would not approach you. Surely whatever he needed could be attained at a different time. 

“Tell me, my lady,” Aegon asks, “do you think me unobservant?”

His fingers dig into your waist, as he snaps forward. Your head is spinning from the pleasure, the embarrassment, the excitement, and the confusion. Surely you are dreaming. 

“What?” you ask, voice a strangled moan. 

“I see the way you look at him,” Aegon says, a matter of factly, “much like how you look at me.”

Aemond is right in front of you now, watching as Aegon plunges himself into you. Your breath comes in pants, sure that Aegon is displeased, that he means to punish you in some way.

“Do you like how my brother fucks you?” Aemond asks, bringing a hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

The question stuns you. Tears spring from the corner of your eyes.

“Yes!” you cry out and Aemond hums at your response. 

“I told you Aegon was not usually kind,” Aemond said, letting his thumb stroke over your bottom lip; a shiver rolls through you.  

“She likes it, brother,” Aegon says, snapping his hips against you. 

“I do,” you moan in agreement, as Aegon’s cock massages a spot within you that makes your vision blur and your thighs tremble. 

“That’s it,” Aegon says, bringing his hand towards the apex of your thighs, using your slick arousal to fondle the precious pearl that lies hidden there. 

You release a moan, a tangled mess of both their names. 

“Hear that brother?” Aemond teases, “even with you inside of her she calls for me.”

Aegon yanks you up by your hair, a deliciously painful sensation on your scalp as he drags you flush against him. He remains nestled inside of you, as his lips find your ear. 

“Do you like him better?” Aegon taunts, placing a wet kiss on your neck. You can feel his smile; he is teasing you, taunting you. 

“No..” you moan, “I want…I-”

How can you possibly tell them what you want? What you desire?

“What dear wife?” Aegon says, lazily thrusting up into you, “tell me what you desire and I shall make it so.”

You whimper against him, as he holds your hips guiding them up and down on his thick shaft. 

“I want you both,” you murmur, an embarrassed whisper. 

The brothers are silent for a moment, the sound of soft, wet slapping the only noise in the room despite the small whimpers that leave your mouth. 

“You heard her,” Aegon says, causing your eyes to snap open.

“Say it again,” Aemond demands, still standing at the foot of the bed, watching you intently. 

“I want you both,” you repeat, more confidently this time.  

“Greedy, greedy wife,” Aegon purrs, as his hand curls around your breast. 

He lifts you from his cock, twisting you onto your back before re-entering you, placing one of your legs on his shoulder so he can thrust into you deeper. Your head hangs from the side of the bed, as he pounds into you. 

“What am I to do with such a greedy, lustful wife?” he taunts, placing a kiss on your breast, and stretching your hamstring until the burn is almost unbearable. 

You wonder if this is what it shall be like to be married to a Targaryen, always a constant state of burning. 

“Brother?” he calls, never relenting his strokes, “help me with my wife, will you?”

Aemond moves to the side of the bed, and within an instance, his breeches fall revealing his cock. It is not as thick as Aegon’s though it still has a girth that makes your eyes widen. 

“Get him ready,” Aegon tells you when you do nothing but gawk at Aemond’s cock that stands erect in front of you.

“How?” you ask, unsure of the next steps. 

“With your mouth,” Aegon directs, “get him nice and ready and I’ll let him fuck you kindly.”

A thrill runs through you at the thought and Aemond steps forward. You unhook your jaw and let him slide his hot length through your parted lips. 

Aemond’s pace is different than Aegon’s, as though he is holding back from fucking your throat relentlessly. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat causing you to gag. 

Aegon moans at that. 

“Do that again,” he says, lifting your leg off his shoulder to hold it in the air. 

Aemond rolls his hips forward gently, causing you to gag again. Aegon groans at the noise. 

“Fuck that’s a pretty sound,” Aegon moans, rolling his hips in such a way that makes your toes curl with pleasure.

“Seven hells,” Aemond hisses when you hollow your cheeks, and experiment with moving your tongue. 

Aemond brings his hands to your breasts, tweaking and pinching your pebbled nipples.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Aegon says, “I knew the moment I saw her I had to have her.”

“As did I,” Aemond says, causing you to whimper around his cock. 

You feel so unbelievably full from both ends, unaware that it was possible to feel this amount of pleasure. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes, as you feel Aegon’s thumb begin to circle the sensitive pearl at the apex of your thighs. 

You feel your thighs begin to tremble, as Aegon continues his attention. Your moans and gags grow louder around Aemond’s cock, the room filling with wet sounds. The pleasure builds and you find your release, cunt clenching around Aegon’s cock. He makes a breathless noise as he feels you tighten around him.

“Seven hells,” Aegon moans, before unsheathing himself from you, “what a good girl you are.”

You cannot answer, due to Aemond’s cock in your mouth and your hazy brain coming down from your orgasm. Aegon chuckles. 

“Go on then,” he says to Aemond, “be sweet to her.”

Aegon climbs off the bed, positioning himself in a chair, and fisting his still-hard cock. Aemond removes his cock from your mouth, a trail of spit connecting you to the tip. Aegon bites his lip at the sight. 

Aemond maneuvers you on the bed, gently cradling your head until it rests on a pillow. His touch is different from Aegon’s, not as rough, not as hasty. You look at your husband, his eyes are dark with lust. 

“What about you?” you ask, voice shaky. He grins at your words, head tilting backward.

“I know,” he purrs, “I’m being awfully generous, and on my wedding night as well.”

He pumps his cock again using the slick from your cunt, his flushed tip weeping precum. 

“You are my wife,” Aegon says, as though reminding you.

You turn your head toward Aemond, who now hovers above you. 

“May I kiss you?” he asks, eye flickering to your lips.

What an odd question to ask when his cock has already been in your mouth. 

“Yes,” you breathe, and Aemond leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss. 

You can feel his thighs brush against yours, his heavy cock nudging your legs apart. He reaches a hand down, barely having to try with how wet you are, sliding inside your tight warm heat with ease. 

You moan against his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him close to you. Aemond is different, he feels different inside of you. He slowly rolls his hips against you, a gentle, even pace that has you clutching the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Aemond moves his mouth to your neck, kissing the hot flesh. Your head turns to the side, watching Aegon tug himself at the sight of Aemond fucking you. His mouth hangs open, lips curling into a smirk. Aemond’s head is buried in the other side of your neck, his pants music to your ears. 

You drop a hand from Aemond’s shoulders, reaching toward Aegon. He rises from the chair almost instantly and you wrap your hand around his neck. He covers your mouth in a hot kiss, laying beside you. Aemond lifts himself up, before unsheathing himself from you, laying on the other side. 

You turn to face Aegon, as Aemond lifts your leg, to continue to fuck you as you lay on your side. Your mouth falls open at a new angle, the tightness allows your cunt to swallow Aemond’s cock. 

Aegon kisses you, his hand reaching between your legs. A desperate moan is swallowed by your husband, and you reach your hand to stroke him as well. 

“That's it,” he says against your mouth. Aemond bites into your shoulder.

“Gods,” you breathe a pathetic whine that causes both men to chuckle.

“Close,” Aegon murmurs, “this is how a queen should be treated. Do you agree?”

You nod desperately.

“You are a dream,” Aegon purrs, “a delectable dream.” 

You cry out as your second orgasm washes over you, you feel Aemond find his release as well, spilling his hot seed inside of you. 

Aegon continues rubbing you until you’re pushing against him, pleading with him to release you. He does not, only rolls you off Aemond’s softening cock and onto his, having you straddle him. Aegon pulls you down, not allowing you to ride him (that shall be for another occasion). Instead, he holds you flat against his chest, beginning to jackhammer up into you, chasing his release.

You become a babbling mess, clenched so tightly when Aegon finds his release, your cunt milking him for all he is worth. You droop off of Aegon, falling in the space between the brothers, shaking from the pleasure you received, their mingled releases spilling from your entrance. 

You feel Aemond place a gentle kiss on your shoulder, as Aegon moves a strand of hair from your brow.

“I am afraid some of my reputation, holds water,” Aegon admits, fingers trailing down your chest. 

You hum, unable to form words.

“But I am not a selfish lover,” Aegon continues, “you are my wife, and I shan’t deny what brings you pleasure.”

You can feel Aemond growing hard again, as his cock presses against your backside. Aegon’s hand cups your breast, squeezing it softly. 

“Is that alright?” Aegon asks, though his amused expression seems to already know the answer.

You flutter your lashes at him, leaning into Aemond, before answering with a tired smile and a nod. 

It was to be a long night, shared between the dragon princes. 

note: I couldn't pick and I wanted both SUE ME 😤😩🥵

taglist: @afro-hispwriter, @aemondsb1tch, @twobluejeans, @s0urmarvel, @fan-goddess, @the-phantom-of-arda, @cicaspair418, @loxbbg, @arraxthatsonjah, @missbeeentertainment, @maximizedrhythms, @xdeath-soulx , @wrendermeuseless, @hiatuswhore, @sho1407, @minttea07, @arkainea, @elissanatok, @alitaar, @bellaisasleep, @itsleniiilosers, @cassiopeia-black-brenda, @bogwaterswamp, @applepie02, @youngestxhearts, @aurabluestar, @watersquirtpewpewboomm, @w3ird11, @minttea07, @hopebaker, @banana-man0, @m1ndbrand @itsleniiilosers, @for-fuck-sake-im-alive, @duckworthbean, @lunamadhatter99, @mss-nthng, @heavenly1927,@jamespotterismydaddy, @f4ll-for-you, @yentroucnagol, @crazylokonugget, @ugh-my-back, @sweetniasblog @herfantasyworldd, @here-for--the-fun, @zoleea-exultant, @howdoichangemynameto, @wasntpriscilla, @avadakadabra93, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @i-killed-ramsey

[destinationtrekk]

domestic wesker headcanons (amab!reader)

a/n: i wrote an amab!version of my domestic headcanons! please let me know how this reads and if you guys like it :) if so i will definitely be posting amab versions of my smut going forward!

nsfw below the cut, 18+ only

amab!reader, descriptions of choking, penetration, dacryphilia, unprotected sex/finishing inside, probably more i’m missing, not beta read

masterlist

sfw:

After the whole ‘Spencer/Wesker Project debacle’ (as you had dubbed it in your head) ended, Albert opened up to you a lot….like surprisingly a lot.

you had noticed a lot on your own too though. the first being that he was a smoker

you could smell it faintly on his coat after a long day at the labs, and on his breath when he woke you to kiss you goodbye in the early mornings

you finally brought it up one day, casually asking if you should pick up a pack for him on the way back from running errands

you’ll never forget the way his face lit up red and how he sputtered like a fish out of water

he ignored you for a few hours, and then finally asked if it bothered you, avoiding your gaze

you laughed and told him you didn’t really mind, and over time you found out more

he was a chain smoker at the peak of Umbrella, right before they had perfected the T-virus (it was the ‘80s after all) but he had stopped when he joined the Army.

Then while he was in S.T.A.R.S. the stress of being a double, then triple agent got to him. He didn’t smoke nearly as much, but he couldn’t help a cig or two after a hard day

something else you’ve noticed is that he’s a perfect driver. You don’t think he even speeds, or rolls through stop signs when he’s in a hurry.

You think those are perfectly normal things, but he is very adamant that you should not be reckless in his nice cars, which, okay yeah

but he explains that he was mainly escorted during his Umbrella days, rarely having time or need to go somewhere alone until the end of it all

then he had been reprimanded for cruising a liiiittle too much in his S.T.A.R.S. cruiser, and that had been that

you do appreciate his driving when he’s taking you home after you’ve had too many drinks though

nsfw:

despite everyone thinking he’s a sadistic machine, I think he is very much the opposite

growing up sex was the last thing on his scientific mind, and then he was much too busy for anything other than a one night stand every now and then

now though, he comes home so tired he can barely keep his eyes open

It’s not like you two never sleep together. Quite the opposite in fact. Albert is a very generous lover, going as many rounds as you ask until he’s either too tired or you’re spent.

he’s got amazing stamina, even when he’s mentally drained. he prefers to take his time with you, making you finish at least once before he even touches himself

looooves to just grind against your ass and get himself soaked with lube before he thrusts inside - he uses enough lube to hear the wet slap of his hips and balls on your ass 

adores the way his cockhead catches on your rim and just teases the sharp stretch and how you moan and clench around nothing

he also loves to push in as slow as he can, making you feel every inch of him stretching your hole

this man whimpers! he moans and whines and pants in your ear like he’s been starved of touch and it turns you on just as much as his calloused hands do.

he doesn’t actually talk all that much, except to encourage you with that’s it, fuck, I’m close, let go, baby, or he’ll ask what you want him to do - unless he’s feeling fuck nasty (love that phrase)

sometimes he just needs a release, to expel all the pent up frustration, and you’re the perfect solution

he won’t even say hello when he gets home, just finds you and paws at your body like an animal until you tell him yes or no

if you say no, he respects you. completely, one hundred percent. you’re the most important thing in his life, and it’s not even enjoyable to him if you aren’t eager and willing

if you say yes though, he will be all over you. Clothes are flying off and somehow you’ve made it across the house into bed without his mouth leaving your lips and skin

he loves to take you face down when he’s like this, your ass in the air so he can lean over you and pin you down with his weight, groaning and panting in your ear while he fucks you so hard you can barely even make a sound

even when he’s tearing apart your insides, he still likes to intertwine your fingers where you’re gripping the sheets. he just covers it up as needing to hold you still

this is when he really talks, he actually won’t shut up, not that you’re complaining. he’s telling you how tight you are, how you squeeze him like a vice and he can barely pull out. the slick sounds of your hole are driving him crazy, he can’t wait to see your pretty tears when you cum around him, loves how your cock leaks a puddle under you cause you’re so desperate for him 

sometimes he likes to be rough, pulling your hair, wrapping his long thick fingers around your throat to tug you up into a sloppy kiss, gripping your hips and waist in a bruising hold, so tight you can’t even meet his pounding thrusts

always asks to finish inside you. He wants to see it drip out of your ass and down your balls and mix with your cum on the sheets he’s fucking filthy

surprisingly good at aftercare, cleans you up and holds you until you decide to get up or eventually just fall asleep on top of him. he secretly loves this part just as much as the sex, but he won’t admit it

but that’s a whole other post

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 7

You can read previous chapters here.

A/N: Hear me out, the only reason Y/n included Beron in her list of beautiful High Lords is because I saw someone fancast Lee Pace as him, and ever since, I could only picture him as Beron.

Summary: Y/n chooses to remain at the Dawn Court, but Rhys allows her to stay for only three days, entrusting Azriel with her safety.

Word Count: 3.5 K.

Azriel did not need Y/n to explain what felt wrong before he went to get Rhys and Cassian and head to Velaris to check. After an hour, they returned, finding nothing amiss. While Rhys and Cassian dismissed the thought and retired to their rooms, Azriel remained wary. 

“If you need anything, I’ll be right outside your room” Azriel informed Y/n, his words soft and assuring.

“You’re not going to sleep?” she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“I only need a few hours, remember?”.

“I don’t know how you do it” she rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips before retreating to her room. “Good night, Shadowsinger”.

The next day, Y/n woke up with a headache, her face paler than usual. The black dress she wore only accentuated her pallor. They all attended the second meeting, where they were greeted by Thesan. As the discussions began, Y/n felt progressively worse. Azriel jumped to her side when she suddenly gasped for air, emitting a sharp noise, and almost stumbled as she stood from her seat. He gripped her shoulders to keep her from falling, his face etched with concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

“I-” she started but lost her balance again. Azriel caught her immediately, one hand resting on her waist. 

“I thi-” before she could finish, she felt a nauseating sensation and pushed Azriel’s hands away, throwing up all over the floor.

“Poison?” Kallias questioned, positioning himself protectively in front of Viviane. The other High Lords took defensive stances before Helion and Thesan rushed to Y/n’s side, placing their hands on either side of her arms. 

“Nothing” they said in unison as they finished examining her.

Azriel helped her up, placing a hand around her waist to keep her steady.

“Something is not right with the Cauldron” she finally managed to say, looking up at Azriel, then Rhys and Feyre.

Rhys spoke in Cassian and Azriel’s minds, ordering them to check it out. Azriel seemed hesitant, not wanting to leave Y/n’s side, but with another look from Rhys, he obeyed. His jaw clenched as he guided her back to her seat before striding toward the window. Just as they were about to fly out, Y/n collapsed again, expelling the contents of her stomach when the earth shook beneath them. Stones from the palace broke and fell into the room, and the mountains and buildings outside were affected as well. Luckily, no real damage was done to the city. Azriel rushed back to Y/n’s side, covering her with his body as stone debris fell around them. Then, everything stopped.

Rhys looked out the window, his gaze distant before he finally spoke “the King of Hybern just used the Cauldron to attack the wall. He destroyed it. We’re too late”.

As everyone began to leave, heading home to prepare for what was to come, Y/n informed her sister that she wished to stay.

“Y/n, you are not well. Why do you even want to stay?” Feyre asked, her brow furrowing with concern.

“I’m fine. It was because of the Cauldron. I feel fine now. I wish to see how they make the antidote to Faebane. Maybe we can produce it as well” Y/n expressed, her voice steady but determined.

“There isn’t enough time to learn that and Thessan will send shipments soon. There is no need for you to stay here” Feyre argued.

“But I want to” Y/n insisted.

“I’ll stay with her” Azriel volunteered, surprising everyone before he added “I’ll stay and make sure she’s safe”.

“I don’t need your protection” Y/n replied sharply, her eyes narrowing.

“I can’t be worried about you right now. So, please just agree. It will put my mind at ease” Feyre pleaded.

“I don’t care. I don’t need to be babied around”.

“Az, you’ll stay. But I want you both back in three days and that’s final” Rhys commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“And if I refuse?” Y/n crossed her arms defiantly.

“Then Az will drag you back. It’s your choice, either go back willingly or fight and suffer humiliation, because he will get you back”.

“Oh, fuck you” she glared at him and Feyre before turning her back on them and walking out of the room.

“Good luck, brother” Cassian smirked at Azriel before being winnowed out by Mor.

—

Thesan gave them a quick tour of the palace and the apothecary where the powder was produced. He apologized for the brevity due to the impending war preparations but surprisingly allowed Y/n and Azriel to wander as they pleased in his court.

“Why can’t your High Lord be like him? Such a polite host with a kind heart and beautiful...Oh, well, your High Lord is pretty too. But I suppose that’s a trait all High Lords possess with the exception of one” Y/n rambled, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Azriel raised a brow “and who might that be?”.

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s that hideous blonde monster”.

“Tamlin?”.

“That one”.

“I'm not sure everyone would agree with you”.

She shrugged “it’s a personal preference, after all. Blondes are just not my type”.

“And what is your type?” Azriel asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

“You’re feeling chatty today” she grinned at him, her expression teasing.

“I could say the same to you. You seem better” he replied, studying her intently.

“You mean after I threw my guts up on the floor? Yeah, much better”.

“I meant since we got here”.

“I suppose that’s what getting some fresh air does to you after being locked up for months” she said, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

“You know that’s not true” Azriel sighed, his shoulders tensing.

“Then what do you call it? You heard what your High Lord just said before he left. If I wasn’t locked up, why would he insist I go back?”.

“He’s worried about you”.

“He doesn’t care about me. He’s only ‘worried’ because my sister is”.

“If you’re locked up, he wouldn’t have let you stay here” Azriel reminded, his tone patient.

“He left you with me. Even prisoners go out with guards keeping watch over them” she retorted.

“There’s no arguing with you, is there?” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“No, because you know I’m right”. Azriel only sighed at her reply.

—

Later that night, they were invited to dine with Thesan and his lover.

“How do you find the city?” Thesan asked, a warm smile on his face.

“Magnificent. It truly is beautiful, just like its High Lord” she replied, earning her a nudge from Azriel, who gave her a pointed look.

“I’m glad it is to your liking. Did you get what you wanted?” Thesan inquired.

“It’s a start. The process is a bit complicated, but I’m sure I’d learn it if I had more time” she said, glancing away from him and giving Azriel a subtle glare.

“It wasn’t my decision” Azriel whispered to her.

“I could ask them to write down the process” Thesan offered.

“That would be much appreciated. Thank you” she smiled, her tone sincere.

“Are your rooms satisfactory? Or- are you sharing the same room? I don’t quite know if you’re-” Thesan began, looking between them and Azriel choked on his food, before quickly regaining his composure

“Definitely not. We’re staying in two separate rooms. The Shadowsinger and I are not together… He was ordered to stay and watch my every move” Y/n informed Thesan, her last words laced with disdain.

“I apologize… So, you’re here to protect her?” Thesan directed his question at Azriel, who only nodded.

“If I didn't know any better, I’d have taken offense to that. Rhysand knows all my guests are under my protection. I’d never allow any harm to come to her” Thesan remarked, his expression serious.

Y/n gave Azriel a smug look, conveying a sense of ‘see, I told you so’.

“Of course not. But you also understand we’re at war and knowing that you can’t focus your attention on her all the time, he sent me to help” Azriel said politely, and Y/n rolled her eyes.

“I understand. We must retire now. We have an early morning, but enjoy the rest of the night and your stay” Thesan and his lover left the two alone in the dining hall.

Y/n picked at her food as Azriel ate in silence. “So, you really are going to stick to me like a shadow for the next two days?” she asked, still displeased.

Azriel snorted, a faint smile playing on his lips “If that’s what you prefer, then I’ll be happy to remain in the shadows while I watch over you”.

“Prick” she muttered, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“But I do remember you disliking me remaining in the shadows with you around” Azriel added.

“Yeah, because who likes having someone lurking in the shadows and stalking them like prey?”.

“Is that what you think I was doing?” he asked in disbelief.

“I don’t care what you were doing. I don’t like having someone watching my every move” Y/n replied with a sigh, setting down her fork.

“Alright, I won’t stay in the shadows. But remember, you asked for this. So don’t complain when I’m walking behind you everywhere” he said, his tone a mix of resignation and amusement.

She sighed and went still for a moment before asking again “I have a question for you. Do your shadows ever leave you to…spy on others? I have noticed them dancing around”.

An amused smile appeared on his face “it’s more complicated than that, but they do whisper to me of things that cannot normally be seen”.

“Is that why they call you Shadowsinger? Because you speak to the shadows?”.

He stifled a chuckle, even his shadows seemed content as they played across his back and began extending to her “something like that”.

“But then why call you Shadowsinger and not Shadow-whisperer? Wait, do you sing?” she bit her lip, hiding a smile.

“It’s not a title someone just made. It is what it is”.

“But, do you?- sing?”.

“Yes” he admitted, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. 

Y/n tilted her head, resting her chin on her palm as she watched him in silence, amusement evident on her face.

“What?” he shifted in his seat, feeling her gaze.

“Nothing” she bit her lower lip in delight. 

Seeing her like this, with sparkles in her eyes and a grin that could brighten any room, was a rare and precious sight. As much as Azriel wanted this moment to last, he couldn’t let it, for he was barely restraining himself. Instead, he cut the conversation short “we should get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us”.

“I thought you only slept for a few hours, enough to keep you going for the day. The night is still young” she reminded.

“Yes, but with you around and having to watch you, I’d need a lot more energy” he said, a half-truth.

“I’ll take that as a compliment”.

“Of course you will” he said, shaking his head.

“Get some rest, Shadowsinger” she giggled.

“You’re not going to bed?”.

“Not yet. Unlike you, I don’t need a lot of energy to deal with you. Besides, I’d like to enjoy some time alone, free from anyone watching me” she batted her eyelashes at him, and it took every ounce of his willpower to resist the temptation of giving in to his desires “good night, troublemaker” he managed to utter before disappearing into the shadows.

The following day, Y/n surprisingly woke up before Azriel did. She had breakfast alone in the dining room of their suite before getting dressed for the day. She wore a loose, thin dress in the colors of the Dawn Court. Just as she was about to step outside the palace, Azriel joined her.

“You didn’t think I’d let you leave without me, did you?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d show up. Did you sleep well?” Y/n asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Not in the slightest” he replied, his tone heavy with unspoken thoughts. If only she knew what tormented his sleep.

“Hmm, weird. This was the best sleep I’ve had in months” she shrugged, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

—

As Y/n engaged in the work of manufacturing the powder, Azriel stayed quiet, a few steps behind her. By the time they left, it was dusk. Y/n took a detour and decided to stroll through the city before returning to the palace. Azriel followed closely as she admired each spot and every shop.

“You’ve been quiet today. Is everything alright?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him, her brows furrowed with concern.

“I thought you preferred it that way. Isn’t that what you keep telling Cas?” Azriel retorted.

“While it is true I enjoy the silence, you are not the General. Lately, I have grown used to talking with you” she admitted but was met with silence. 

This time Azriel did not say anything back, he only nodded. His silence bothered her, but she didn’t know why and she wasn’t about to push further. Although it was in his nature to stay quiet or more reserved around the people he knew, the Shadowsinger had been somewhat chatty with her, especially when it was just the two of them. But today, he was not his usual self. When they returned, Azriel retreated to his room and did not come out for the rest of the night.

The next day he seemed more relaxed, even though he also didn’t speak to her when they were at the apothecary. After finishing, they did not immediately return to the palace but instead went to the sea. Again, it was Y/n’s idea and Azriel just followed silently behind her. She sat on a big rock by the shore, letting the water brush her feet as she enjoyed the view. Today, she too, did not utter a word to him, but that was because she had been more focused on the work trying to memorize everything before their return. 

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as she listened to the soothing sound of the waves. 

“You do know we have rivers, lakes and seas in Velaris as well? You can always go there” Azriel finally spoke, his voice breaking the tranquil silence.

“I know” was all she said, she was in no mood to argue.

“I- can take you there if you want” he offered.

“Don’t you have a war to prepare for?” she finally turned to look at him.

“We can go after” a note of determination in his voice.

“If we survive” she countered, her gaze unwavering.

“When we survive” he corrected, his eyes meeting hers.

“Didn’t take you for an optimist” she remarked, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Sometimes the way to get through something is by believing you can”.

“Is that how you survived all those years?” Y/n questioned, her tone gentle. He remained silent, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion.

“Do you ever just take a moment to relax and admire your surroundings?” she asked.

“I don’t have the time for that” his tone was cold, but his eyes betrayed a hint of longing.

“You do now. So instead of standing there and brooding, you can sit and enjoy the moment” she returned her gaze to the view in front of her. Surprisingly, he did as she asked, finding a rock a few feet away from her and sitting on it “how are you sitting on this? It’s uncomfortable”.

Y/n snorted “For an Illyrian warrior, I did not think you’d be bothered by the roughness of a rock” she teased, her eyes sparkled with delight,

“Just because we endure unspeakable things, doesn’t mean we don’t feel things”.

“Would you just shut up and enjoy the view? It’s like every bone in your body is resisting relaxation”.

He obeyed and finally turned to look at the landscape before him. The horizon melted into a palette of soft pastel hues, with the last remnant of daylight casting a golden glow across the water. It was beautiful and it gave him a sense of peace, but he couldn’t help but look back at her. Her bright smile as the sunlight kissed her skin with a warm, amber radiance, and her hair shimmered with a lustrous sheen, each strand aglow with the hues of dusk as they swayed in the gentle breeze. His lips curved into a gentle smile as he watched her.

They sat there in silence until no more light could be seen. “We should get back” Azriel spoke, his voice reluctant.  He didn’t want the night to end or to return, but they had to. 

“Must we?” her smile disappeared, replaced by a sad expression, and he hated that he was the reason for it.

“I’m afraid so. Thesan is waiting for us”.

“I almost forgot about that”.

At dinner, Thesan handed Y/n a detailed description of how to manufacture the powder and wished her good luck.

“I’m afraid I won’t be seeing you off tomorrow. I hope you can understand” Thesan said, his tone apologetic.

“Of course. Thank you for your hospitality and for everything else” Y/n gave him a polite smile.

—

The day that Y/n dreaded had come. She had just finished breakfast, when Azriel approached her carefully “ready for our departure?” he asked, his tone gentle

“I’m not finished. There’s still much to learn” she replied, frustration evident in her voice.

“Thesan gave you a detailed description of everything, and you spent three days at the apothecary learning all you could. And even if I wanted to stay, it’s not my decision. Rhys wants us back”.

“Do you always obey him like a dog?” she snapped at him, her eyes flashing with anger.

“No, but he is my High Lord and I do what he asks when it is appropriate” he responded calmly.

“And you think this is appropriate?”.

“I meant when it comes to protecting Velaris”.

“You lot are insufferable” she sighed, shaking her head.

“Please let us just go. I do not want to pick up a fight with you or do as Rhys asked if you resisted” Azriel pleaded.

“Fine, I’ll go with you willingly on one condition. I need to go to the market before we leave”.

He looked confused at her request but agreed, as long as she returned with him willingly. He really did not want to imagine what he would’ve had to do if she refused. He wasn’t even certain he could do what Rhys asked him to.

She picked a beautiful flower necklace for Elain, a romance book the store owner recommended for Nesta, and paint colors that were only found in the Dawn Court for Feyre.

“Do you think my sisters will like these?” Y/n asked, uncertainty in her voice as she held the items.

“I believe so. You’re getting Feyre a gift? I thought you’re mad at her” Azriel remarked.

“Yes. I am mad at her and we might not see eye to eye at the moment, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s still my sister and I’ll love her no matter what” she explained.

“I see… You’re not getting yourself anything?” he scanned the items she was holding.

“No, I don’t need anything”. 

Just as they were about to leave, she found an antiques store. A certain gemstone caught her eye. She entered the store and looked around at all the beautiful trinkets and jewelry they had.

“I’ll be right back” Azriel informed her before leaving her alone with one shadow at the shop. She seized the moment to inquire about the gemstone that caught her eye. It was deep, glossy black with faint glimmers of blue. The shadow wrapped around her forearm as she reached to examine it. The shop owner told her she had a good eye and that this stone was particularly used for protection. She told her the alleged story of the stone and how it was usually exchanged between lovers, not that the last part mattered to Y/n. As she purchased it, the owner remarked “this is a rare stone, not so often seen” gesturing to the necklace on Y/n’s chest. 

“Oh, this? It was a gift from my mother” she replied, her voice tinged with sadness.

“She’s one lucky woman”.

“I think she would’ve disagreed with you” a sad smile tugged at her lips

Before the owner could say something else, Azriel returned “are you good?” he asked, noticing the change in her mood

“Yes, we can leave now” she said, her voice steady but with a strange sensation in her stomach.

Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllitas-blog @nebarious @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite

[0cta9on]

Unlikely Duet - 1

length: 3k+ words

Genre: Fluff

NewJeans Minji x Male OC

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

“Yuno Lin! Detention! NOW!”

The sight of Principal Geier’s screaming face was nothing new to me. The bright shade of red on his furious expression combined with his shiny bald head made him look like a ripe tomato. I’d chuckle at the thought if my chest didn’t hurt every time I so much as breathe.

A crowd of students and teachers had huddled around Bryce Merten’s unconscious body. The football player’s face was all bloodied and bruised, but he was breathing, for better or for worse. I grabbed my bag I had tossed on the ground and trudged my way back into the main building of the school. 

It was the end of the school day, so some students were still hovering around their lockers, getting their stuff or talking to their friends. The echoes of my footsteps reverberated throughout the hallway, alerting others of my presence. The look of fear and confusion as they see my face full of cuts and bruises is also nothing new to me. I pay them no mind as I walk the familiar route to the detention room.

I pushed open the door, its creak announcing my entrance. Instead of the usual stern expression of Ms. Rusnak’s wrinkly face, I am suddenly face to face with Minji Kim, the golden girl of Evergreen High School. She’s the student council president and ranked #1 in the entire school, basically the poster child of perfection.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Her voice, laced with an unexpected sincerity, caught me off guard. She stood up from her desk and walked towards me, her face full of concern. I shrugged, ready for the usual judgment or disdain, and walked past her, taking a seat in the front row of desks. She sat back down at the teacher’s desk where she had been working on a pile of paperwork before my arrival and glanced at me with a worried expression, tracing my wounds with her eyes.

“What happened to you?” she asks. 

I hesitated for a moment, not used to the genuine concern in her voice. Reluctantly, I recounted the events that led to the fight, how Bryce had been tormenting a freshman for weeks, and how it ended up with him face down on the concrete.

Minji listened, her expression shifting from stern to contemplative. When I finished, she sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“Look, I get it. You just wanted to help, but you can’t be doing it like this. You could get expelled. You should have spoken to a teacher about it,” she suggested, her voice gentle yet firm.

I scoffed, bitterness seeping into my tone. “You think they would have done anything? They knew about it the entire time, but that fucker is on the football team, so they turned a blind eye to the whole thing.” I let out a deep breath, glaring at her. “He needed a good punch to the jaw. I just happened to be the one doing it.”

Minji frowned, her eyes searching mine. “I know it’s frustrating, but taking matters into your own hands isn’t the solution. You could get expelled for this, and then what? You won’t be able to help anyone.”

I avoid meeting her eyes, my gaze fixed on the scuffed surface of the desk. “I had to do it,” I muttered. “No one else would.”

She sighed, realizing the impasse between us. “Just… be careful. I’m sure your friends wouldn’t want to see you hurt,” she remarked as she turned back to continue her paperwork with a sigh.

Her words stuck in my head as I continued to stare at the desk. She was right. Of course she was right. If the teachers actually did their job and reprimanded the bullies the first time, then I would have never had to fight. Hell, I never enjoyed fighting in the first place. But I had to do it. Someone had to knock some sense into these sons of bitches and that responsibility was unfortunately bestowed upon me for whatever reason. And… Did she say “friends”? What friends? Everyone was too afraid to even look at me. Surely she knew that… right?

The minutes ticked along, our conversation lingering in the air. Eventually, a bell sounded on the PA system, signaling the end of detention. Without a word, I gather my bag and start to leave, but something stops me. I glance out the window and notice the darkness settling over the school grounds. It would be easy for me to just leave and move on with my life, but a voice inside at the back of my head was urging me to do the right thing. Despite my better judgment, I turned back around.

“I’ll walk you home,” I said, the words leaving my mouth before I have the time to process them.

She looked up at me, a look of surprise in her eyes. “O-oh, you don’t have t-”

“It’s dark outside,” I interrupted, my tone leaving no room for argument. “It’ll be too dangerous if you walk home alone.”

Minji offered a small smile, appreciating the sentiment. “Thank you for the offer, but I can manage. I don’t live that far anyways.”

“Let me walk you home then,” I insisted, my voice surprisingly unwavering. “If you don’t live far, then I’ll be out of your hair in no time. Just let me make sure you get home okay.”

She studied me for a moment, uncertainty flickering on her face. Finally, she relented with a small nod. “Fine. But just this once.”

I merely grunted in response as I held the door open for her. We walk through the dimly lit hallways and exit the main building into the cold, gray night. A heavy silence hung between us as we left the campus, greeted only by the faint glow from a couple street lights casting long shadows on the pavement.

We walked side by side, the echoes of our footsteps reverberating through the empty streets. Minji seemed lost in her thoughts, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. I maintained a distance from her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable as we approached the street that led to her house.

As we near her house, the first droplets of rain pattered onto the pavement, foreshadowing the impending downpour. 

Minji glanced up and snapped out of her trance, her expression shifting from contemplation to annoyance. “That’s just great. We’re gonna get soaked.” Without exchanging words, we quickened our pace, hoping to reach her house as soon as possible. 

Our slight jog turned into a sprint as the rain intensified. The glow of her porch lights beckoned to us like a lighthouse guiding us toward its welcoming shine. Reaching the shelter of her porch, we stood there and watched the rain get heavier and heavier, transforming the world around us into a blurry, mesmerizing dance of droplets.

Deciding it was time to leave, I shifted my weight, preparing myself to step back into the heavy downpour. But before I could move, I felt Minji’s hand gently touch my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

“Wait,” she said, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain hitting her roof. “Stay here.”

I glanced at her, my eyes wide in confusion. “What?”

Her cheeks turn a bright shade of pink as she shakes her head. “I-I mean until the rain lets up.”

“I'll be fine. It’s just a little rain,” I say. As if on cue, the sound of thunder booms in the distance.

Before I could protest anymore, Minji opened her front door and gestured for me to come inside. “You’ll catch a cold if you go out like this. And it’s the least I can do to repay you for walking me home.” 

I glance back at the unrelenting rain one last time and sigh. “Okay. I’ll leave once the rain lets up.”

Minji smiled at me, leading the way inside. The warmth of her home enveloped me, a welcome contrast to the cold rain outside. I stood awkwardly near the entrance, the sound of the rain becoming mere background noise as Minji shuts the door behind us.

“Wait here, let me get you something dry to wear,” Minji says as she kicks off her shoes and disappears up the stairs. Curiously, I peer into her living room while I wait for her, being careful not to drip any water onto the carpet. A comfy-looking brown coach faces a large flat-screen TV, one that I’ve only seen in the electronics aisle at Walmart. Various pictures line the shelves around the TV, including family photos, a wedding photo of what could be her parents, and a graduation photo of an older boy I haven’t seen before.

The sound of Minji’s footsteps breaks me out of my thoughts. She appears in front of me with a blue sweater and black sweatpants neatly folded in her hands. “Here. It’s my older brother’s. He’s away for college right now, so I’m sure he won’t mind if you borrow them.” She hands them to me, a small smile on her face.

I took them from her, scanning her outfit. She had changed into a simple graphic T-shirt and black cotton shirts, a far cry from the usual school uniform that I see her wearing. Then, a sudden realization hit me - by some odd twist of fate, I was standing inside Minji Kim’s house. The atmosphere shifted and I brought my guard up in this unfamiliar setting.

“Thanks, Minji,” I muttered, unsure of what else to say.

“No problem, uhh…” Minji’s voice faltered as she suddenly brought her hands up to her face, the light pink hues of blush peeking through the cracks of her fingers. “Oh my god… I never asked for your name…”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by the oversight. “Yuno. Yuno Lin.”

She uncovered her face as her embarrassment transformed into a sheepish smile. “Right, Yuno. I’m so sorry, it’s been a long day with the rain and all this work I had to do.” She walked past me, into the living room area, avoiding my gaze. “There’s a bathroom right around this corner that you can change in. I’ll make us some tea in the meantime,” she said with an apologetic look on her face. I simply nod and kick off my shoes before following her deeper into her house.

I enter the bathroom while she disappears into the kitchen, presumably to make the tea. I strip off my uniform shirt, completely drenched from the rain, and examine my upper body in the mirror. A fist-sized blob of bluish-purple and red adorned my chest like a shitty tattoo, alongside another bruise on my arm and a couple more cuts on my cheek and lips. I shrugged. Not the worst thing that’s happened to me.

I quickly remove the rest of my wet clothes and change into the clothes Minji gave me, leaving my soaked school uniform in a messy pile on the bathroom counter. The warm fabric felt foreign, but welcoming. As I stepped out of the bathroom, the comforting scent of black tea hit my nose, leading me to the kitchen where Minji was steeping two cups of the stuff.

She turns to me, a warm smile on her face. “The tea is almost ready.” I watch as she reaches into a drawer and pulls out a first aid kit.  “Let me help you with the cuts.”

I shake my head, “I’m fine.”

Minji frowns at me and gently pushes me back into a chair. Before I can protest, she’s already cleaning the cuts on my face with antiseptic, her touch surprisingly gentle. I feel an odd sensation in my chest as I steal a glance at her, her face almost uncomfortably close to mine as she focuses on her task. 

“There,” she says, finishing up with a small bandage on my cheek. “You’re good to go.”

I grunt in response, still feeling a little flustered. Minji hands me a cup of warm tea, our fingers brushing briefly. I take a sip, the warmth of the liquid heating me up from the inside.

“Thanks,” I muttered, avoiding her gaze as I stared down at the contents of the mug in my hands. 

Minji, seemingly oblivious to the hint of awkwardness that I feel, takes a seat on the kitchen counter across from me. “No problem. It’s the least I can do.”

I take another sip of tea, unsure of how to navigate this foreign scenario. I try to rack my brain, searching for something to say, but nothing comes out. Thankfully, Ms. student council president manages to save the day.

“Soo…” she starts, her eyes peering into her cup. “What do you usually do when you’re not getting into fights?”

I glanced up at her, surprised by the sudden question. “Um… I don’t know. Nap, I guess.”

Minji giggles softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Really? That’s quite… unique.” She flashes a bright smile at me.

I shrug, feeling a little embarrassed by her reaction. “What about you?” I ask after a pause. 

Minji chuckled, a smile lingering on her face. “Well, when I’m not studying or dealing with student council stuff, I like to sing.”

I look up at her, genuinely curious. “Really? I would’ve never guessed that.”

“Yeah, I haven’t really told anyone this aside from a few close friends. Sometimes I would tell my parents that I’m studying at the library, but in reality, I’m at the karaoke place with them.” She giggles to herself before her expression suddenly darkens and her gaze drops to the floor. Minji lets out a sigh before saying, “My parents would never approve. They want me to go to a good college and probably become a doctor or something.”

The room fell into a thoughtful silence, aside from the thunder and rain that continued to pour outside. I saw a side of Minji that was kept hidden behind the cheerful facade she usually wore. Despite the two of us being strangers before today, I couldn’t help but feel sympathetic towards her. I racked my mind, thinking of something to say that could offer her comfort.

“I-I’m sorry,” is all I managed to stutter out. I mentally facepalmed myself for not being able to help her more.

Minji looked up, her eyes meeting mine, and for a brief moment, I could see a deep sadness within them. She managed a small smile before looking back down at her mug. “It’s okay, Yuno. It’s just a silly hobby anyways.”

She steps off of the kitchen counter and downs the remainder of her tea before placing her mug in the sink. I watch as she peers over at the clock hanging on the wall, the arms pointing to 9:00. “It’s getting late, but…” Her gaze turns to the window above the sink, a sigh escaping her lips. “The rain isn’t letting up.”

I stand up from my chair, mentally preparing myself for the treacherous walk home. “It’s okay Minji, I ca-”

“You can spend the night here.”

My eyes grow wide in shock, staring at the back of her head as she continues to face the window. “H-huh?”

A million thoughts run through my head as her unexpected offer hangs through the air. Spending the night? At Minji’s place? It felt like I had suddenly woke up in an alternate reality and didn’t notice until now. 

Minji slowly turned to look at me, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush as she met my bewildered gaze with a sheepish smile. “Yeah… Look, it’s pouring outside and you could get sick. My parents are both gone for a business trip, so they won’t be back until this weekend.”

I hesitated, completely baffled at the situation I was faced with. No words come out as I continue to stare at Minji in shock. “I-I uhh… w-what?”

Minji briskly walks past me without another thought. “You can crash on the couch. I’ll get you some blankets.” 

I suddenly find myself alone in Minji’s kitchen. Me. In Minji’s house. Alone. With Minji. I don’t know how long I stood there in silence. I was like a deer caught in headlights, completely still despite the feeling of impending doom heading my way. My mind was running at a thousand miles a minute.

“Yuno!”

My head snaps towards the source of the sound. Minji’s head pokes out behind the wall leading to the living room. “Are you okay?”

I scratch my head, feeling a bit awkward. “Y-yeah, I’m good.” I come to my senses and walk towards the living room, where Minji placed a couple of pillows and two neatly folded blankets on the couch.

“Make yourself comfortable. Oh, I went ahead and put your uniform in the wash. It should be all nice and dry in the morning.” She says, flashing me a reassuring smile. I notice a twinge of anxiety deep within her eyes.

“T-thanks,” I reply sheepishly.

“If you need me, I’ll be upstairs in my room. Just knock.” Minji begins to walk away but stops at the foot of the stairs. “Um… Good night, Yuno.” She gives me a small smile before disappearing up the stairs.

I plop myself onto the couch and stare at the ceiling, unsure of what to make of this day. I replay the events in my head - The monotonous school day, followed by me kicking Bryce Merten’s ass. Meeting Minji in the detention room. The rain. And now I’m in Minji Kim’s house, drinking Minji Kim’s tea, and sitting on Minji Kim’s couch. What the fuck.

I lay down on the couch, the exhaustion of everything catching up to me. The plush cushions carry me gently, enveloping my body in comfort. My eyelids begin to get heavier and heavier until my vision eventually goes black. 

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

“Hanni!! What should I do?!” I whisper-screamed into the phone.

“Girl, you’re gonna have to explain all that again, I could barely understand you,” I hear my friend reply in a snarky tone.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves before I relay the events again. “Okay, so I was just doing paperwork in the detention room because Ms. Rusnak was out and all of a sudden this guy named Yuno walks in with his face all bloody because he got into a fight somehow, and then I was gonna leave after detention ended, but he offered to walk me home, which was nice I guess, but then it started raining so I invited him to wait inside until the rain calmed down because I didn’t want him to get sick, but for some reason, the rain NEVER calmed down, so now he’s sleeping on my couch.” I stop to catch my breath at the end of my rambling, waiting for Hanni’s response.

“Wait, Yuno? As in Yuno Lin? The guy who knocked out Bryce Mertens?” she asked.

“Y-yeah… I think so.” I hesitantly admitted.

“I mean, I didn’t know you were into bad boys, but whatever floats your boat,” Hanni teases.

I groan in annoyance. “Hanni now is not the time for jokes! My parents will kill me if they find out I have a boy staying over!!”

I hear Hanni chuckle at her own joke. “Relax, Minj. Your parents won’t be back for three more days, you’ll be fine.”

I collapse face first into my bed, feeling defeated. “I guess so…” My muffled voice says into the mattress. I let out a long sigh, turning onto my back and staring at the ceiling.

“Sooo, what’s he like?” Hanni asks. “I always see him alone all the time, so I assumed he was just some creepy weirdo or something.”

I pause, contemplating my answer. “He’s… different from what I thought he would be. He’s not a creepy weirdo at all. He’s quiet and a little awkward, but he means well and seems nice enough.”

Hanni’s curiosity peaks. “Oooh, mysterious bad boy with a soft heart sleeping with the student council president. Sounds like a plot to a K-drama.”

I quickly sit up, my cheeks burning red with embarrassment. “Hanni!! It’s not like that at all!!” Hanni’s laugh can be heard from the speaker of my phone. I hang up and collapse back on the bed, too tired to deal with her for tonight. I let out a sigh and tightly shut my eyes, hoping that I’d wake up and find out all of this was just some weird dream.

[cybernecromancer365]

Alex/Olivia headcanon I wrote a long time ago. It got lost and I never really finished it. Apologize in advance for mistakes.

The Parent-Teacher Conference

Alex rushed into an empty classroom where two occupants waited in silence. “Hi, Sorry I’m late.”

Noah perked at her voice, lifting his head from the desk.

The teacher looked up from where she sat at the head of the classroom and sized Alex once. “You are?”

“Right, we haven’t met.” Alex held out her hand. “Alex Cabot. You called about Noah.”

“Yes…I called his mother.”

“Olivia can’t make it.”

The teacher waited for an explanation.

“I-I’m the…other mother.”

The teacher watched her, her brow lifting at the phrase “Other Mother”.

“I have the power of attorney if you need to see it, and you’re welcome to call Olivia to verify.” Alex said but the teacher continued to stare. “You get it, right? I don’t have to explain.”

The woman’s face lit up. “Oh!”

And there it was, the light bulb finally came on.

“I had no idea.”

“Most don’t. Olivia likes to do the school thing.” Alex glanced to Noah. “What happened?” She started in Noah’s direction; the boy averting his gaze as they both closed in on him.

“Noah, would you like to explain what you did?” The teacher said from beside her.

Noah shook his head.

Alex took a small chair from one of the kid-sized desks and sat next to Noah. “What happened?” At Noah’s silence she pushed. “Noah.”

“He punched one of the kids in the face today. The two were caught fighting on the playground.”

Alex watched him. “Better have a good reason.” At her words she turned to the teacher hovering in front of them, the woman silent. “O-Of course Olivia and I don’t condone violence.” Alex cleared her throat.

“He’s been in detention for the remainder of the day.” The teacher softly finished and Alex's brow furrowed.

“Since when?”

“The incident was before lunch.”

“He’s been sitting here the entire day?” Alex stood, hoping her stature intimidated the shorter woman. “Has he been doing anything productive?”

The teacher backed up a step as Alex’s gaze bored into her. “A few worksheets—”

“Christ.” Alex scoffed. “And what lesson did he learn from worksheets?” Alex didn’t want an answer, and held her hand out for Noah to take. “Come on Noah.”

Noah picked up his Spiderman backpack and took her hand.

“You have to understand that our job is to teach and create a positive learning environment—”

“Then you’ve ineffectively done your job.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you know why he did it? Did anyone try to solve the problem?”

The teacher held back a scoff but her attitude was clear in her smirk. “Ma’am. This is not a courtroom.”

Alex looked away with a smile. “You really have no idea who you’re talking to”, she wanted to say, but saw Olivia’s disapproving look in her mind’s eye and held her tongue.

“And Lord knows I don’t get paid enough for it to be one.” The woman paused. “Is it possible some things get overlooked? Yes. My job is to teach and take care of 39 other children. I don’t always have time to solve the problem.”

Alex clenched her jaw and started out of the room with Noah’s tiny hand clutched in hers. “Bitch.” She murmured the word under her breath.

“Bitch!” Noah shot back—

“Noah!”

Her heart raced but she didn’t dare turn back and apologize. Outside the door Alex gave his arm a little tug to get his attention. “Cool it.” She looked forward and continued weaving through the school. “The last thing we need is for you to get expelled.” Noah’s little legs raced to keep up with her stride as she retraced her steps to the school's exit.

Spotting the Mercedes at the curb Noah wriggled out of her grasp and ran to the car, his backpack bouncing off his back as he smiled and raced to his freedom.

At the car she opened the door and took his backpack; Noah readying a climb into the backseat.

“Not yet.” Alex said and Noah turned over his shoulder, trying to maintain an innocent look on his face, though Alex saw the apprehension in his eyes. “I want to talk to you.” Alex crouched in the grass and touched his shoulder. “Come here.”

“I’m sorry.” He said preemptively, likely hoping it would solve everything. He made a hurried attempt to get into the car, but Alex caught his hand.

“No. Come here.”

Alex took Noah’s other hand, holding both his small hands in hers. She’d watch these hands grow, and one day they’d be larger than hers. “Why did you punch that boy in the face?”

Noah looked down.

Alex gave his hands a squeeze. “Noah. Look at me.” She waited until he complied, his dark brown eyes slowly dragging up to hers. God, he looked so much like Olivia sometimes. “Why?”

“He said I shouldn’t have two moms…”

A jolt raced down her back, and anxious dread swelled in her chest. The color drained from her face and her heart thumped.

“He said it’s weird…and I’m weird.”

Alex looked down with a sigh as she struggled to find the right words. She never wanted him to have a hard time because of them, but in truth, she was waiting for it to happen. “Okay…listen little dude.” She looked into his eyes. “Some people are not going to approve of your mother and I being together. And to them it might be weird, but that’s okay.” She squeezed his hands. “The only thing that matters is that we love you, very much. Okay?”

Noah nodded and Alex let his hands go. She went to stand but he blindsided her, locking his arms around her neck in a flash, hugging her a little too tight. “I love you too”, came his soft admission over her shoulder.

Alex froze with her arm around his small body. Her throat dried at his words and for a second her brow tensed. ‘What?’

He'd never said that before.

This wasn’t her son but Olivia’s. It was Olivia he loved. Her and Olivia hadn’t even married yet, and the idea wasn’t planned anytime soon. She barely held any legal custody of him. She came into his life after he’d solidified his unbreakable bond with Olivia. Three years later she was still trying to understand him, get to know him. She still mulled over how to get things right and what to do in certain situations with him. Olivia always reassured her but nothing she did for him felt like enough.

She saw her reflection in the car’s glossy door panel and felt her tears fall down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away and hugged him a little tighter. “I wouldn’t trade you or your mother for the world.” She let him go and gently took his small shoulders, looking into his eyes. “But next time, don’t punch him in the face.” Alex poked Noah in the stomach to get a smile from him.

“Are you gonna tell mom?”

“Yes.”

Noah’s eyes widened at her words.

“You…” She poked him again. He didn’t smile. “…don’t worry about that.”

[nonokoko13]

SPOILERS SXF CHAPTER 93 ❗❗❗

So, chapter 93. Starting with Anya scores...

THAT'S MY GIRL!!!! CONGRATULATIONS BABY!!! 🎉🎊🥳

(Let's take a moment to appreciate what a good and supportive friend Becky is too 💖)

As I expected Anya passed classical language (with a huge improvement!) but in the large, tedious walk on Hell that is school not everyone can get exceptional grades in every subject unless you're a Desmond apparently and Anya, as many people who preceded her and will come after her, failed math.

I have seen many people make theories about how certain older student who we shall discuss next could be her tutor. However, my theory is that she will receive help from Bill in the future

It makes more sense: both already know each other, Anya has more chances of Bill accepting or suggesting to help her than the-one-I-shall-name-later and overall Bill seems more communicative and better at socialising and explaining himself. Let's not forget he received a stella in math after all. So for me Bill seems like the most plausible option (maybe we will get jealous Damian with this friendship?)

Back at the Forgers residence the Authens pay a visit to congratulate Anya as well. When I read Sigmund's sentence about how rewarding is to have a payment for your hard work my mind automatically thought "But sometimes no matter how hard you try you don't get a reward. Sometimes the result is just not worth the effort" (I think many people has a canon event that reveals them that, specially when you're in highschool, middle school or college)

And right after thinking that he agreed with me lol. My mind really anticipates things before finishing a panel

Speaking of hard work and grades, I'm taking this chance to give my opinion: a system based on giving stars to those who have the highest grades while those who fail face the possibility of being expelled is awful. Not getting a star and comparing yourself to your peers already make horrors to your self esteem, imagine a child getting expelled for repeatedly fail a exam that may not be adapted to their needs (or getting many tonitrus for things your teachers disapprove of you but you didn't know it was wrong or for something about yourself you cannot control. For example a kid with ADHD unintentionally interrupting someone, disconnecting in the middle of a conversation or making noise with their leg when they stay still for too long. No need to go as far as talking about neurodivergent kids, look at that chapter where Anya got a tonitrus for not having a handkerchief. Who the fuck is punished for that when you're an adult anyway)

Enough of that, back to the chapter. Let's talk about what hyped me the most: Demetrius finally appearing on screen!

We already had crumbs of him before. Given Damian inferiority complex when comparing himself to him when he had talked about school and Twilight noticing his exams barely had any mistakes back in the chapter where Daybreak was welcomed to this world, him being a exceptional student when it comes to academics isn't surprising in the least.

Many say he's ugly and exactly like his father but I disagree. Donovan looks like a goddamn Frankenstein if Frankenstein was ugly, Demetrius take after his dead eyes look but he's pretty like Melinda. Not conventionally pretty like Damian or Melinda but kinda pretty. Like a zombie with sleep deprivation but in an endearing way. It's not his fault he's built like a Tim Burton or Don't Starve Together character... anyway I'm sure his appearance can grow up on you, hopefully (;´ ▾ `)

About the theories regarding this panel

It may be true something's going on, maybe he was really experimented on... But I can't stop thinking he was in that very moment "No thoughts, head empty" mode

I mean, he looks like a walking corpse in dire need of a proper nap, can you blame him if his thoughts are mainly focused on studies when Donovan probably spent time with him only for the sake of producing a good grades, not independent thinking machine as his heir? "He watch him study all the time."

I don't think it was necessary for a tragic incident to change Donovan and made him distant from his family. I suspect he has always been like that, perhaps even before having Demetrius, so it was less a traumatic big event and more the exhausting everyday life Demetrius has been having as far as he remembers of being supervised by his father in order to be the best at school and everything that turned him into the probably burnt out teenager he is.

Same with Melinda, being married to somebody you might not have even loved when you first got together, a man who doesn't try to understand others or seem capable of caring for anyone, a man who is not precisely publicly known for his kindness (remember Millie and Yor's boss when Donovan was brought up?)... Being married to that kind of person for years and then having kids with that person and have to keep being related to them for at least until your kids graduate sound like a miserable life indeed

The Desmond have a common theme going around that is understanding the world around them, or rather the lack of it. I can say for sure that Demetrius feeling overwhelmed simply with a bunch of kids and thinking he can't understand people have its roots in Donovan

• For Donovan is his narrow minded belief that nobody can't understand — therefore neither trust — each other because people is different; and as long as that phrase of "two people can't think the same" lives to the reality it finds itself in reaching a common ground is impossible.

• Donovan influenced Demetrius. Perhaps Demetrius doesn't share his father belief and that's not why he can't understand others, maybe it is because he was possibly deprived of a normal childhood where he could socialise with others of his age without his father expectations onto him.

Many academic gifted children reach a part of their lives where their habit is to think inside the box of "Good grades is all I'm good at or all I should care about; good grades = doing fine; it's all about what you can prove to those who expect something from you, not what you can prove to yourself to make you feel satisfied and happy".

When people who raised you condition you to act, live and think the way they wanted you to do is difficult to break and separate yourself from that. Plus he's going through the middle school phase, from personal experience that makes you x10 times angsty and complicated to understand yourself, much less everyone else.

• With Damian it is less discussed and pointed out because he's been able to have a relatively normal —if anything very neglected — childhood up to this point. He has friends, he acts like a kid of his age, his life doesn't revolve around his grades all the time... But that's the bare minimum of what a good childhood should be like.

It may be because of his age, but he doesn't see the bigger picture of his family. He can't see what is wrong with them (yet) because in his eyes nothing is wrong. Sure, he feels lonely and works hard for his dad to notice him, but that happens in many families right? He's not even in denial, he doesn't phantom the idea that what his family is, how they behave towards each other or towards him, isn't normal.

Don't make me start with how his future plans is following Donovan's footsteps in politics because he's trying that hard to approach him. He works hard at school because in his mind being like Demetrius or how he believes Donovan wants him to be would bring them closer, receive an understanding relationship from his dad when we know there might not be genuine affection between them from Donovan's side to start with.

He's teaching himself that love is conditioned by your "worth" or by whether you get to the expectations your loved ones have. That reminds me of what Sigmund told Anya because it sounds like a foretelling of Damian's life: [...] And one day you'll experience the frustration of realizing that hard work is not always rewarded. He doesn't many things and his age may explain it but it doesn't justify, if he continues thinking like that he'll have his hopes crushed and may turn out like Demetrius.

• As for Melinda, is difficult to talk about the point she stands in the understanding theme. Unlike her family she does seem able to understand people, perhaps because she wasn't raised like her kids have been. She's aware that her husband party made a lot of damage to their country, she seems aware and attentive to what surrounds her.

I don't think she cannot be understanding or perceptive, I think it's the other way around: the people she's surrounded by cannot understand her. Neither Yor, Anya, Damian, surely Demetrius and Donovan neither, her "friends" of the association she's in... Not even us can't understand the reason why she's so conflictive about Damian yet.

In just one appearance Donovan made his belief clear, thus giving us an idea of what type of feelings he has towards Damian. We can get so much of his character as a person with one chapter, but Melinda has appeared more than him and her true self is unknown. Donovan is reserved in a physical way, he isolates himself by not going outside and socialising, but he's not against the idea of explaining a stranger his stance in life. Melinda surrounds herself of people and listens to them but she keeps to herself.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to see more of Demetrius and the Desmonds. Hope we get more screen time of them, unless Endo has decided to drop such episode only to give us a one-shot chapter next and not elaborate further before introducing a complete different arc 💦

Although with what we have I'm already bought and entertained enough. Our favorite family is great but hooray for secondary characters being given depth and spotlight in this manga 🥳

See you next chapter reaction! If I made another one after other 25 full moons. I'm probably forgetting to talk about something...Oh well

[junipers-archive]

Professor Spencer coming home to reader sobbing for no reason and he gets worried, like now he's thinking who hurt his pretty darling and it's just some dudes at his class decided to bully reader aaaa 😭😭

yessss i love this!!

"Baby what happened?" Spencer's rushing towards you, throwing his satchel on the nearest chair. He had heard sobbing the minute he got to the door of your shared apartment. Rushing past the entry and taking you in, his heart breaks.

You're laying on the couch, clutching a soft blanket as you try to wipe your tears away. "N-nothing! M'sorry I'm just being dramatic."

He sits you up, taking a seat next to you. "Tell me what happened sweetheart. Please?"

You sniffle as you begin telling the story, how the boys who tried flirting with you learned you were involved with someone and bullied you all class long. Making fun of your bright outfit and calling you lewd names because you'd supposedly 'let them flirt with you'.

When your finished your mascara is running and you're clutching onto him like a lifeline. And Spencer swears, he swears to fucking god he will find a way to fail them if its the last thing he does.

But right now, right now he has to worry about you. "Baby I'm sorry that happened. Why didn't you say something?"

"J-just wanted to be independent, handle it on my own! But they were so mean and then people in class started believing the things they were saying about me."

His face becomes hard at the notion anyone would think of you that way, you were perfect. But he also fights the urge to reprimand himself, he can't believe he didn't notice what was going on.

"I'm sorry Y/n, I can't believe I let that happen, didn't even realize they were bothering you that much."

You lift your face from the crook of his neck, puffy eyed and hiccuping but still beautiful in his mind you respond, "S'not your fault Spence. Just need to grow thicker skin is all."

He shakes his head at that pulling you closer to him as he curses under his breath, "Trust me, its not you who needs to grow up."

But he won't say anymore, holding you in his arms is enough for now, he'd get your vengance later. Maybe if he was lucky he could get them expelled.

For lewd behavior that is. Since they just seemed so obsessed with it.

[taintandviolent]

le petite mort; James March x Reader

summary: After checking into one of the Hotel Cortez, a conversation with the bartender plagues your mind with dirty thoughts. Some guy catches you pleasuring yourself in the hotel room - and that some guy happens to be the owner of the Hotel. w a r n i n g s: 2k words! shameless smut! female masturbation, accidental voyeurism, slight humiliation, choking / asphyxiation, mentions of death (kinda). a/n: this is one of the first JPM fics that I started writing, and I felt that it finally needed to be finished and out of my drafts. hopefully it's not ASS. this is s shorter one, which feels alien to me, but c'est comma ça. hope everyone enjoys it!

full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here!

“Most people who check into the Hotel Cortez are hipsters wanting a taste of the art deco, or junkies and prostitutes looking to have a quick night in a cheap room.” She set the glass down carefully on the ornate bar, sliding it towards you with one finger.

The bartender didn’t hesitate in striking up a conversation after you’d sat down, angling your two suitcases on one side of the stool. The thought immediately manifested itself between your legs, and you shifted. If only. It had been so long since you’d had a good fuck that at this point, you’d even take a quick night. Maybe not with a junkie, but….

“I guess I kind of fall into the first category. But, I am here for a friend’s wedding. I didn’t want to stay where everyone else was staying.” You tilted your head back, letting the remainder of the amber slide down your throat. “I wish I was in the second category… maybe minus the junkies and prostitutes bit. But…” You trailed off with a shrug.

“Oh believe me, sweetheart. I know exactly what you mean. Women have needs.”

As you gathered your bags, your peripheral caught someone with dark hair watching you. Naturally, when you turned to look at them, you were met with an empty bar. Of course, because this is an old hotel and probably haunted.

“Thanks, Liz. It’s been a treat.”

She said nothing, only bowed her head with her long arms resting widely on the bar. You made a mental note to come back to the bar for another drink. But for now, it was time to unwind in your hotel room.

After getting settled, and a much needed hot shower — washing that airplane sludge off you was mandatory — you were finally relaxed. The wedding wasn’t until Saturday, so you had plenty of time to do whatever made its way into your mind. Maybe order some room service. Maybe peruse the hotel for some history, spend hours reading the informative little plaques that decorated the wall — every old hotel had them. Maybe masturbate…. Oh. Yes. Definitely that. That was first on the list, actually.

Dropping your towel to your feet, you pulled an old tattered t-shirt over your head, and hurried to the bed. Silly that you had any sort of modesty in an empty hotel room, it was after all, your hotel room. Could’ve and should’ve just bolted across the floor naked.

Suddenly, the radio on the table across from you crackled to life, the speakers expelling a high-pitched voice singing jovially amongst violins and some sort of wind instrument. After a few moments, it switched off with a burst of static. Lids heavy with arousal, you stared sleepily at the radio, resolving to unplug it before you went to sleep that night. Old wiring could be tolerated, but things turning on in the middle of the night was nightmare fuel.

You pressed the pad of your middle finger between the folds, delving further down to your entrance, where you pulled up some of the slick to lubricate your clit. The sensation made your eyelids flutter. Jesus, that conversation with the bartender had really gone straight to the cunt — you were clearly longing for something. Someone who would bring something new, something exciting to the table. You already dreaded the polite flirting that was going to occur at the wedding.

Your fingers circled your clit, bringing the sensitivity as high as you could for as long as you could before you felt the hot clench of an orgasm rush over you. Expelling a high pitched moan, you slipped your middle and ring finger inside, pumping in and out to bring yourself over the edge. You let out a few hoarse breaths as your hips dug into the creaky mattress, riding out the pleasure.

“My, my…”

You stared wide-eyed up at the ceiling, trying to figure out if that had been some weird, orgasm-induced hallucination.

“La petite mort, as the French call it.”

You yelped, pulling your wet fingers from your cunt. Unless the bartender had slipped something in your drink, the man at the edge of your bed was definitely not a hallucination. Dark hair styled so that not a single strand was out of place, no facial hair save for a thin moustache that decorated his upper lip, and a suit so pristine, you wondered if he’d just come off a film set. It was LA after all.

“Jesus Christ,” you sputtered, panting unevenly. “What?!” The way he stood at the edge of the bed, hands layered atop a cane was so paternal and overbearing it made you feel like a child caught watching porn on a school night. There was nothing to be embarrassed of; you were a grown woman in a hotel room that you paid for.

“A little death,” he replied. “A temporary weakness, a loss of consciousness. It became a poetic euphemism for orgasm in the late eighteen-hundreds.”

“Thanks for the history lesson,” you murmured, mouth curling downward in irritation. “Have you ever heard of knocking!?”

He pushed his bottom lip into his top, pulling his chin up in a challenging expression. One eyebrow quirked. “You wouldn’t have heard me if I had.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but promptly snapped it shut. He had you there. A soft, melodic rapping on a door would’ve been lost amongst your whimpers and groans. Laughably so.

“Who the fuck even are you!? I’m going to call front desk — this is weird.” Frustrated, you wipe your slick fingers on the sheet beneath you before reaching for the phone. Suddenly, he was beside you, and the energy that radiated off of him made your leg muscles spasm.

The woman on the other end sounded annoyed.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she repeated, sounding like she was trying to suss out if this was a prank call.

“I would um, like someone removed from my hotel room. Security, or something.”

“We don’t have security.”

“Okay, that’s outrageous, but — there’s just some fucking guy in my room.”

You’re met with silence. The old plastic of the receiver creaked in your grip, your eyes darting back to him. He was smiling. Proudly.

“Tell them my name.”

You jerked your head forward, contorting your face in defiance, and wordlessly asking for clarification.

“Repeat after me, ‘The man in my room is James Patrick March, and I’d like him removed at once.’”

You felt your eyes narrow into slits, confused. Somewhere deep inside your core, you felt a clench at his sternness. “Go on, my dear.” He urged.

You cleared your throat resentfully.

“The man in my room is… James Patrick March and I’d like him removed at once.”

The line crackled. Instead of the usual static one would expect, terrifying sounds blared through the receiver; hisses and condescending sniggering. Eventually, you make out the harsh sound of a full bellied laugh. The woman was laughing.

“The owner? The owner of the hotel?” The laughing continued.

The tip of his cane came clunking down into the switch-hook, where he held it for several seconds — for poignancy? Dramatic effect? The dial tone startled you.

“I paid for this hotel room, okay? I do—“ You started, stiffly returning the receiver to the cradle.

“You did, did you?” He asked, his voice raising gleefully. The change in tone unsettled you. Deeply. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you reached for the edge of the duvet, scratching your nails at it to bring it up around your bare legs.

He watched you intently, almost smiling. Was he waiting for you to say something? Jesus.

“Ye-yeah… I paid for it.”

“Ah!” He exclaimed.

You jumped.

“I own this hotel, you see.” He gestured enthusiastically to the room, your eyes following it as though you hadn’t already spent a night in it. “I own it all. Down to the sheets you were pleasuring yourself on moments ago.”

You glanced at them. “Finished on, actually.”

“Yes — I know. Shame. I would’ve taken great pride in doing that myself.”

Your jaw dropped, and you pressed your legs together until you felt the pressure against your cunt. Your stomach tied itself in knots.

“Is the thought odious to you?” He inquired, almost softly, like he was trying to appeal to your gentler nature.

You remained silent, rubbing at the veins in your wrist. Eventually, after mulling it over (or gaining the confidence to do so), you shook your head.

“I thought not.” He may have been a complete stranger, but the way melodic way he crooned and growled every word made you dizzy. With the back of his hand, he swept a strand of hair from your brow, his knuckles ghosting over your cheek.

“Show me,” he ordered, running a single finger along your collarbone.

His hands wrapped around your throat, and heat blossomed in your cheeks. At first, his fingers were pressing on either side of your throat and the arousal flowed freely again, delighted by the concept of a mysteriously sexual one night stand. Admittedly, he wasn’t going in easy, but you weren’t a saint. You’d had your fair share of dudes who thought they were a Dom. This guy though… he wasn’t that. He didn’t get his tendencies from sneaking peeks at his girlfriend’s Cosmopolitan. He certainly hadn’t killed your arousal with his decision.

He shifted his weight on top of you, pulling the breathiest moan from your lips. The way his pointer finger roughly traced your jawbone drove you wild. His hands were just cold enough to feel unusual, but they were soft and possessed an unanticipated strength.

All at once, the pressure shifted to the front, his palm compressing against your trachea. Your brows furrowed at the sudden discomfort. His gaze was locked on your face, raptly watching the changing expressions.

You grasped at his hand, flailing as the oxygen started dwindling. Your head felt heavy and the sensation of your vision darkening around the edges frightened you. Your muscles tensed instinctively. He didn’t let up, and the panic wound itself in between your ribs like a snake. With your heart pounding, you began fighting recklessly, desperately trying to reach for anything.

James saw the nearly final change, and with a delighted gaze, eased up. “Exhilarating!”

You gasped, your lungs moaning as they sucked in air. The sound was disturbing to you, and sounded inhuman. “You almost killed me…”

“Hardly, my dear! Brain death occurs in four to five minutes. You triumphantly endured a mere ten seconds!”

“A…little… death.” He whispered each word delicately over your lips, hovering mere centimetres above yours. He was intoxicating, whatever it was he was putting off. Unbeknownst to you, your legs dropped open, hungry for more.

He looked down, eyes scanning over your thighs, your knees, and to the lush, inviting garden between them. One hand returned to your throat, compressing it slightly. You whimpered at the now-familiar sensation, and scooted your body down further on the bed, through his legs.

“Good! Yes,” he praised. “Succumb to your urges.”

As though he’d reached into your brain and simply made you do it, your fingers were on your cunt, playing with your wet folds before you had a second to process that you'd even done it. It was already sensitive, your touches had you galloping towards a second, overstimulated orgasm. With his free hand, James enveloped your hand with his large one, cupping it easily. You writhed uncontrollably, whimpering. He growled in delight at the feeling of your vocal cords humming beneath his palm.

“St-stop,” you cried out weakly, the pressure on your throat making you sound altogether pathetic.

“Very well then, I will.” He said, abruptly releasing the pressure on your throat. “I will, but you won’t.”

You almost protested the action, though that would’ve been an embarrassing blow to your ego had you actually done it. Begging him to stop then begging him to continue? Shameful. How much more of a desperate whore could you be, honestly? “Go on - since you’re so fond of it. Show me.”

He took in a seat in the velvet chair directly parallel to the bed, one leg crossed casually over the other. His dark eyes were aflame with interested, erotic hunger. You slipped one finger in, making a slutty show of how wet you were. Two fingers, and you arched your back, moaning loud.

“Another,” he crooned. You obeyed, wincing at the fullness. You curled your fingers up, pressing into the spongy flesh that made you writhe like a worm on a hook. You began leaking onto the mattress below, a mess of cum and sweat. James watched you as you fingered yourself again and again, pleasuring yourself over and over in every way you knew how until your legs were quivering with the overstimulation.

“Die a little death, my darling, go on…”

You came. Hard. Screaming, shaking and spilling out onto the sheets beneath you. With your hand laying limp over your damp cunt, twitching every so often, your breathing gradually slowed. Of course, when you lifted your head, the man was gone, leaving nothing but the quiet echo of his satisfied ‘Mmmm…’

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @thewolveswithin / @kaisbasementwhore / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny /

Ask to be added to the taglist for future fics!!

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 17

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: violence

Ensnared

Killer was working in the galley prepping lunch, when Heat burst through the doors. He didn't need to say anything for Killer to know something was deeply wrong. The look on his face said enough. 

"Killer, it's Captain. H-he," Heat couldn't finish before Killer was out the door. 

The first mate was on the deck, scanning around for Kid in a panic, gaze briefly landing on a group of people dogpiled on Mini to keep her restrained. It wasn't hard to find him with the amount of screaming he was doing. Kid was grabbing his flesh forearm with his metal hand, flapping it around. He was gripped with terror as his eyes met Killer's. It wasn't quite the same, but it was eerily similar to the look he had when he lost his arm. Killer rushed to his captain's side to see that Kid couldn't move anything below his wrist.

"THAT BITCH THAT FUCKIN BITCH! SHE FUCKED UP MY HAND."

Killer grabbed Kid's shoulder and turned him so they were facing each other. "KID! Slow down. What happened?"

"ROTTEN! THAT LYIN BITCH MADE ME THROW HER IN THE OCEAN AND NOW MY HAND'S FUCKED!"

Killer's eyes widened under his mask. There was a lot to unpack in that sentence. "What lie?! Made you what? KID! She can't swim!" 

"OF COURSE SHE CAN'T. SHE DID THIS WITH HER DEVIL FRUIT!" Kid yelled, flapping his limp wrist in from of Killer's face. "SHE'S A FUCKIN MARINE, KIL!"

Heat appeared next to Killer, or maybe he had been there the whole time. Killer had been completely focused on Kid. "She said her name was F/N L/N." Heat explained. "Killer, I think that's-"

Killer's eyes widened. "The Sea Snake, yeah I know." He would revisit that discovery later. Killer turned his attention back to Kid. He wasn't the first mate for no reason. He handled high-pressure situations well, reading them and formulating a plan in seconds. "Kid, listen to me. She's not a marine. She kills marines. And I think she can reverse whatever she did to your hand." Kid started to yell again and Killer cut him off. "KID! In about 2 more seconds, I won't be able to reach her and your hand might be like that forever." Killer paused to catch his breath. "If I'm wrong, you can throw her back over and I won't stop you, ok?" Killer didn't make a move until he saw the slight nod of Kid's head. Then he was diving into the water, hoping he could still pry you from the ocean's grasp. Or they would all suffer Kid's wrath, like they did the first time one of his arms was maimed. 

At this point on his career, Killer had dove in after Kid more times than he could remember. If he wasn't such a practiced, strong swimmer, there would have been no way he could have caught up to you. In the murky darkness, he had to use observation haki to pinpoint where you were, making contact with your chilled skin just as his lungs started burning. He wrapped his arm around your middle and swam back to where the light filtered through the water's surface. 

With an agonal gasp, you were suddenly back in your body, rolling onto your elbows and knees to violently expel ocean water from your lungs. This was somehow worse than throwing up, the sensation of warm liquid coming from a place it should not be coming from, salt burning your windpipe, followed by dry heaving. Your eyes and nose burned, too. A mix of tears, mucus, and saliva were coming out of your face as it forced the salt from your system. Blinking into focus, you saw that you were on a wooden deck, on a ship. Fear inched into your mind, thinking you were back in the custody of Von Kossa until you felt around for the bullet wounds and the melted flesh and found that they were long healed. After a few deep breaths, you remembered what had happened and the fear slipped away.  

Why the fuck were you back here? Why the fuck did they bring you back here? Maybe Kid changed his mind and wanted to make you die slowly. There was no where to escape but the sea, and that got you nowhere. You coughed up some more water, strength slowly seeping back into you as the ocean lost its hold. You doubted that the deal to let you off at the next island was still in effect, if you lived that long. And now your secrets were out. What do I have to lose? 

A slow grin stretched across your lips. You had always wanted to fight a supernova. 

You didn't make a move, taking account of your current surroundings. You heard Minerva in the background squealing. At least someone has my back. Killer was the closest to you, there were scattered people on deck, and the familiar vibration of Kid's heavy steps came ever closer. When his shadow moved into your view, you tucked your leg underneath you and sprang towards him with a fist full of armament haki. It nearly met its target, catching Kid off-guard, but was blocked by Killer. You thought you heard a grunt on impact. Killer wasn't expecting that either; you could tell by the way he became unbalanced the more you forced your fist against him.

"MOVE, KILLER!" You and Kid shouted simultaneously, eyes locked fiercely with each other. Killer jumped back behind Kid, not willing to argue with his captain.

"STAY OUT OF IT. SHE'S MINE," Kid growled. The purple energy of his devil fruit crackled around him, pulling pieces of metal together around the hand you disabled. 

You tilted your head to the side, "You sure? Looks like you could use a hand." You sneered at him, the two of you circling each other. It wasn't lost on you that the deck had cleared and those that remained were taking cover. Several pieces of metal flew in your direction without being able to hit you. It seemed like he was testing your abilities, how fast you were, how agile you were. Plucking some of the smaller pieces from the air, you enclosed them in your fist, willing them to become non-metallic, small, cylindrical. Dodging shrapnel, you loaded your gun blade with the only thing you could think of at the time, glass bullets. If they didn't completely explode in the chamber, maybe you could do something with them. At the very least, you could be annoying. 

"YER DEAD, ROTTEN. DO YA HEAR ME? FIX MY FUCKEN HAND OR YER DEAD!" Kid swiped at you with a giant metal arm. It was big, therefore it was clumsy and slow, compared to you, that is. 

This was not going to end well if he had you tucking, rolling, and running around the deck. Stamina was finite and it was already depleted from using your power on him and being soaked with saltwater. "Can't!" You darted around to get an angle on some of the rigging, thinking back to the poor quality knots from earlier. "Used my fruit too much today!" You were still using it, touching the things he threw at you, and turning them into an element he couldn't control. "Oh yeah! AND I DON'T FUCKING WANT TO!" This was the most you had ever used your power, but it was slowly dwindling down the things he could fight you with, increasing the time you had between avoiding each object and allowing you to take aim properly. With a few shots, which actually went off, you severed the ropes holding one of the sails. Kid was momentarily distracted by swatting away the remaining shots, but it was enough. 

The instant Kid was engulfed in the canvas of the sail, you took off sprinting towards him. You licked your lips with satisfaction at the feeling of warm, wet fluid dripping down your blade, over your hand. It was supposed to be firmly nestled between Kid's ribs. Instead, it was stopped just before breaking his skin, coated in purple electricity. But your hands hadn't stopped. The blood was your own, your grip was no longer on the handle and had been forced over the sharp edge. You caught only a brief glimpse of the damage, and even that was obscured by the amount of blood, before the air was knocked out of you and you were crushed against Kid's chest by his two metal arms. You struggled to wriggle out from his grasp until the pressure increased and you felt a few cracks in your ribcage, nearly passing out from the deep, aching pain. You didn't need to look at him to know the smugness written on his face. He had led you to that opening on purpose. All the remaining air in your lungs was stolen by a gasp when Kid squeezed you even harder. 

"Look," Kid demanded, turning you slightly so that you could see Mini, trapped by a scrap metal vice. "Yer gonna undo whatever ya did, for the sake of yer pig. Understand?" 

That was low. You could have easily taken a hostage yourself, however dishonorable it was. It was stupid not to. This was a pirate ship. The Kid Pirate ship. Not a crew known for honor. You could only nod as your grasp on consciousness quickly faded.

Next