#it's the flesh of rich men ofc

[shamebats]

Labour by Paris Paloma and Eat Your Young by Hozier are siblings and they eat raw human flesh and organs for dinner together, with their hands

[tang3r1n]

ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ ʙᴀʙʏ

cw; 18+, heavy topics ngl, refrences to poverty and starvation, angst, GAY LESBIAN SEX, slight cannibalism symbolism if you squint rly hard, refrences to sex work and/or sexual assault

A/N: abt 900 words and literally cranked this bitch out in lile half an hour. jesus fuck how in the hell did Sevika bring me out of my fucking writing dry spell. what the actual fuck. i haven’t written in a year and ofc when i do it’s fucked up analogies and lesbian sex.

To be born of the cursed flesh is a cruel fate worse than death.

To be born as a tainted babe, cast out from the womb with vile stares and scornful words, is the most unlucky a child could be.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t just. She’d lived her life good, honest, she deserved the fruits of her labor, a young life filled with pain and struggle. But she was that of the unfavored, not the blessed ones of Piltover, not the nobles with their mansions or the Council with their riches. She was impoverished, born starved, raised hungry, grown into a ravenous woman who begged for the moresles of candied love the scum around her shoved down her throat or inside her.

She lived to survive, didn’t have time for anything outside of the coins thrown her way and the scraps she fed from. Ironic how she never looked the part; plump and soft, malleable and pliable, her hunger hidden beneath that syrupy, sugary smile that oh-so softly graced her cherub cheeks. She pranced around in fine silks and soft feathers, smoke and shimmer stinging her nose and eyes, ears never without the soft whines and moans that fluttered through the halls of the brothel.

Men were somehow more starved than she, their oafish bodies sweaty and fetid as they grabbed her with rough hands, uncaring of the bruises and marks that grew, staining her already tainted body. She loathed them, pushing her brain to the clouds of smoke circling overhead as she rode out whatever sick ride they put her on. The rides were never long, thankfully, mercifully, their essence all that remained once they stepped off with little more than a sideways glance and those same scornful words she learned years ago. Her bed was a sanctuary, a soft, pillowy escape where she could let her mind drift and fly away, she dreamed of soft touches and sweeter kisses, honeyed words and gentle smiles against her plush skin.

This woman above her, her tan skin and dark lips, soft breasts and firm muscles, rough hands caressing her like she was made of porcelain, felt like heaven. Her touch was better than shimmer, a rush incomparable to any human emotion, a religious awakening, it was invigorating. Men were hurtful, slapping and choking all while they shared the same blood and flesh that she had— but this woman, with her metal arm and scars, was slow and sybaritic, gluttonous how she sucked and kissed at her skin.

Long fingers pumped inside her, working choked gasps and impossibly soft moans from the cursed one’s mouth, curling inside her cunt to almost lazily press against that spot that made her dizzy, stomach twisting as her eyes fluttered shut. The woman’s voice was low and deep, chiding her for looking away, for her hips trying to worm away from this pleasure, “look at me,” the woman whispered, licking a stripe up her neck littered in hickeys. The other keened, hazy eyes half lidded as she looked up to her savior, the older woman grinned, wolfish and possessed, yet she didn’t feel fear. Not like she had before, the woman was all-consuming, dominating her very soul and suffocating her under that strong body built by the gods, yet she could only cry and cling to her skin, begging for more and more.

She was starved, and this woman, bringing her to climax, the sinfully delicious sounds of her own cunt squelching clashing with her pitiful cries, was feeding her. Feeding that bottomless pit she had been build with, feeding her with lips sloppily meshed together in a fucked up display of power and perversion. Feeding her with those dangerous fingers circling her pearl and filling her up. Feeding her with praise and love like a false prayer, flooding her mind with devotion and compassion she so desperately craved.

With the burst of her orgasm, she wailed, tugging on her savior’s messy hair as her body shook in pleasure. White blinded her as her glassy eyes rolled back, devilish smile fading away with a dark chuckle. The woman gently slipped her fingers from her cunt, a dull ‘pop!’ making her ears burn as she watched the woman suck on the soaked fingers. The woman’s eyes rolled back, a delicious moan rumbling from her chest and in that moment she wondered if this woman was starving too. If her savior craved just like she did, if this woman watched her with the same kind of hungry eyes as she did.

She was pulled into another sultry kiss, lips smooshed and smacking as they stole each other’s breath, wrapped up in each other’s arms. The woman pulled away first, keeping her close with a firm hand around her thick neck, string fingers ever so gently cutting off her oxygen, “such a pretty girl,” the woman whispered, a secret for just the two of them, “my new favorite treat.”

Born damned, she scavenged for love and life, but staring into those dark eyes, she saw the same hunger, the same damned flesh tangled up in her’s in a macabre display.

[littlefreya]

Summary: Whatever madness drove this woman to board a pirate’s ship of her own free will was beyond comprehension. Yet there she was, in velvet and silk, marching toward certain danger and the sinful desires of the monstrous Captain August ‘Blackbeard’ Walker.

Pairing: AU! Pirate August Walker x OFC (no mentions of body type or ethnicity)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+. No smut, but sexual themes are mentioned, as well as dark themes - he is a pirate. Possible historical inaccuracy. This is not the real Blackbeard. Mentions of kidnapping.

A/N: Not beta’d. Many thanks to @agniavateira @luna-aestas and @wolvesandhoundshowltogether for the support, and thanks to @geralts-yenn because this story started as a 15-minute challenge, and I ended up writing a whole shot. There might be a part 2, and this might turn into a series. We will see after my anxiety runs its course :D

Thanks for reading, and please reblog and comment if you enjoyed :)

Neptune's Snare

The soggy wooden platform creaked beneath her feet as she climbed onto the main deck. Each step eliciting s husky wail - a sorrowful hymn to the lost maidens of the sea - those who would never return, those devoured by the sinful desires of monstrous captain August ‘Blackbeard’ Walker. 

Whatever madness drove women to go there willingly was beyond comprehension. No more than a tomb, the ship alone looked like a carnivorous maw; black iron spikes stood firmly at the bow, and the sheer size of it was enough to strike fear at the heart of even the bravest sailor.

Yet, there she was, draped in a black velvet cloak and an ivory corset dress, willingly marching toward grave danger. 

Dozens of ragged men welcomed her onboard, filthy scoundrels, all drenched in an exotic mixture of sweat and alcohol. Hungry, their eyes gnawed at her tender flesh, but none would dare touch her. If August’s crew knew one thing, it’s that some fates are much, much more worse than death. 

It didn’t stop them from taunting. Suckling their lips, they followed the girl on her march toward the captain’s cabin. Cheer and chortle in their voice as they imagined the obscenities their captain was about to perform on this naive girl. 

“Pity, he never let us look…” whined one of the pirates while the other bood.

“Aye, you mad to come ‘er tonight. The cap’n hasn’t had his fill in weeks, lass. He would sure pillage each of you’ holes tonight.”

“He gonna paint her full of his sea foam!”

The entire ship roared with their laughter. The girl, however, kept a blank face and, without spending any minute longer, opened the door to the captain's cabin.                                                                                                                                                

Bright, golden luminance blinded Lizette’s sight as she entered the cabin. The walls were plated by ornaments made of gold, reflecting the sparkle of the hundred candles that burnt at the decorated candelabras and crystal chandelier. Fine works of art hung from each wall, and on a vast lacquered table stood a plethora of delicacies that made Lizette’s belly gurgle. 

She stared at the table momentarily, almost fooled by the obvious seduction. In complete opposite to the murky exterior of the ship, the captain’s chamber was a room fit for kings, sputtering style, elegance and riches. Perhaps this was how he lured them. The poor naive girls truly believed he would give them a better life. But Blackbeard was no king, nor was he a gentleman. He was the deadliest man the world has ever known - a serpent, nightshade - all he could give a woman was death. 

“Take off your cowl.”  

A deep voice called from behind, dark and mysterious as the ocean. It struck like an icy shard through her spine, making her shoulders jerk and stiffen. It was odd to know someone by hundred of myths and stories spun around them and have men mimic their voice in an attempt to portray them but never know what they truly sounded like. 

As it turned out, August sounds like a man one doesn’t refuse. 

Obedient, Lizette pulled the cowl from her head - slow as she would unwrap a much-anticipated present. Her gaze kept to the floor still, continuing to play the coy virgin the Captain wanted her to be, though if she had to be honest - she was terrified of whatever hideous monster she would soon have to face. 

There must have been a reason why the women who came here never left. Lizette was willing to bet every dime in her pocket that August was the most gruesome, repulsive creature, and the only way for him to keep people from knowing was by murdering each woman he bedded!    

“Shy, aren’t we?” Blackbeard murmured with a dry chuckle and began to circle her, observing his bounty from side to side.

“I quite enjoy shy,” he chuckled once more, his voice almost a groan. 

She forced herself not to flinch too much. She could sense his glare upon her, stripping her garment by garment, weighing what he earned tonight and considering all the ways in which he would pillage her body. It made her feel like she was one of the delicacies that rested on his table rather than a person. 

After gyrating around her and inspecting each crease of her body, August finally returned to his starting spot behind her and, in a low, delighted groan, demanded, “Turn around.” 

Doing as he commanded, she turned to him, still keeping her glance plastered to the floor, her breathing now shallow as the air in the room grew magically stuffy. She could spot his blurry silhouette from the corner of her eye; a tall and fit man, rather broad. It seemed that he was doing a loose white cotton shirt and dark trousers, and from his waistband - a gleam of silver winked back. 

“Are you a mute?” 

Another chill shot through her as he spoke. Absentminded, she swallowed. “No…”  embarrassingly, her voice cracked; she took a deep breath and reprimanded, “No, sir. Just nervous.”

“Captain,” he corrected. 

Lizette nodded but did not repeat him. She couldn’t. Words died on her tongue as the Captain made a bold step toward her, drawing dangerously near. He paused for a shy second, fingers laced together, contemplating, before he reached a fist beneath her chin and, in a ceremonious tenderness, lifted her chin.  

The air drained from her completely. Her lips parted in a mixture of fear and astonishment. 

It couldn’t be.

Perhaps she had the wrong man?

Grey, ocean-eyes peered at her through a face that women and men would damn themselves for. No! Even angels would. His jaw was sharp and profound, statuesque like cut marble - dashed with dark stubble and a thick raven-black moustache. His lips, though chafed from the salty sea breeze, were plumped and shaped to be kissed, and while some of his curls were streaked with silver, he still had a healthy mane of hair on his head. 

‘He could have been a decent man,’ she thought, ‘and yet he chose this?!’

There was an obscure attractive melancholy to his looks - almost tragic. 

August took another moment to study her face, a frown slowly forming on his ridged brow. “You look familiar…”

“I work the docks,” she answered almost immediately.

His stare deepened, eyes dropping to her cleavage momentarily before returning to pierce back into the back of her skull, “Skin too soft. Too shy to be a prostitute.” 

His fingers wrapped around her chin, caging it between his thumb and his index in a tight grip, making it hurt. He tilted his head, daring her to come up with another lie.  

“The tavern,” Lizette answered, firm and steadfast. She did not flinch from his touch, even though every instinct begged her to.

“And you came to me. Why?”

“What girl wouldn’t give everything for a night with the notorious Captain Blackbeard? The living legend… the king of pirates.” She softened her eyes as much as possible and offered a shy pout to reconcile him. 

August chewed on the inside of his cheek; storm clouds gathered on his pale eyes as he contemplated. They both knew she was flattering him to gain his trust and save her pretty little neck. It wasn’t a situation he hadn’t encountered in the past. They both also knew that he was stronger, bigger and armed and could snap said pretty little neck in less than a split second. 

“Are you a virgin?” He proceeded. 

She nodded, her throat clenching. 

August lingered on her response and, after what felt like an eternity, offered a small grin and pinched her chin sweetly as if to praise her before moving a step closer. Lizette smiled back nervously. She could sense his rum-drenched breath on her face. The scent was so pungent it made her moan invulnerably. 

Or perhaps it was the anxiety that was eating into her heart. 

“Ever sucked a cock, pet?” 

His question was answered by a small click that echoed through the quarter and the press of hard, cold metal against the bare parts of his chest. 

Not stepping back, he slowly, almost theatrically, spread his arms into a gesture of defeat while peering at the girl. No rage nor fear painted his face, and as he spoke, there was neither surprise in his voice. 

“Heh. So you ARE a whore.”

Lizette held the pistol determined, not saying a word.

“What is it that I do, pet?” 

Offering a sly grin, the pirate pressed against the barrel; the oceans in his glare darkened. As Lizette stared back, she could have sworn the many shades of blue in his sights shifted and swayed like angry waves. Quickly brushing the thought away, she cocked the gun in a warning, her little thumb grazing the trigger.

But to August, it was clear that the girl had never killed anyone before, and the longer she stalled, the more shaky her hand became. Taunting, he moved further into the barrel, which forced her to take a step back. 

“Do not move closer!” She finally spoke. 

August brushed her warning away, moving forward instead. He had been so nimble in his movement, fluid, like a sea creature himself. Only now she realised that his hands were no longer in the air. 

“Was it your dear mother?” He suggested. “Father? Sister?” He paused and offered a vicious smirk, “Ah… I see, A lover. Well, to that, I surely deserve to die. Go ahead, pet, pull the trigger.” 

His slender, heavily ringed fingers reached to envelop the barrel, holding the pistol steady for the girl. Every breath he took pressed the metal harder against his sternum. Lizette could sense his heartbeat pulsating through the barrel, the thrum of his blood nearly mingling with her own. No longer steady, her digit quivered around the trigger and in her throat, she felt the strenuous hold of anger, guilt and hatred. 

“You have taken everything from me!” She simply answered. 

Soon her sight became blurry, and wetness gathered beneath her eyes.  

‘Do it, do it now.’ 

Another click sounded in the room. Louder than the cocking of a gun. 

Lizette’s eyes flared in shock, and before she could pull the trigger, August had carefully veered the gun from his chest and, in a tenderness that was accustomed to lovers, snatched it from her hand. His other hand laid still on her neck, fastening the iron collar he granted her.

“Good girl,” he teased and then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the forehead of the girl who was too struck by her own misfortune and stupidity to react. 

With the pistol safely placed in his waistband, the pirate stepped back, face alighted, eyes sparkling with starlight cascade, like a child who had just earned a new toy.  He clasped his hands together, ecstatic; thick silver rings chiming as they collided.

 “I haven’t taken everything from you, pet. but I am going to…”

With one last slanted grin, the pirate turned on his heels and marched toward the door, not bothering to bid farewell as he left and locked the door behind him.

Panicked, Lizette reached her hands to the iron collar, desperately trying to pry it off her neck despite knowing there was no logic in pulling at the heavy metal. 

“Please!” Tears trickled down her cheeks and chin, “no! No! No! Please!”

Through the open window, she could hear the captain's voice barking orders, commanding his men to lift anchor and set sail. 

****

Chapter Two

[mrprettywhenhecries]

all in [trust fund cole/oc]

01. Making Waves

Trust Fund Cole ✘ Win Lewis (ofc)

♠︎ w.c. 3.5k words ♦︎ tags/warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, alcohol, smoking, nothing much this chapter, it’s pretty tame ♣︎ a/n. This is super self indulgent and I’m sure it’ll be pretty niche, but hopefully enjoyable for a handful of others besides myself lol. I’ve just had Cole in my head since watching Molly’s game, and one of my favourite things about minor characters is fleshing them out and making them my own while still feeling true to the crumbs canon gave us. ♥︎ Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! ❤️

“Win Lewis, right?”

At the sound of her name, Win looked up from the glass she’d been polishing.  A woman in a glittering black dress stood before her, her long red hair cascading in sleek waves over her shoulder and Win was sure she would’ve remembered her had she seen her before.

“That’s me, what can I do for you?” she asked, the redhead’s calculating gaze leaving Win feeling weighed and measured.

“My name is Molly Bloom,” the woman said, pulling a card from her clutch and sliding it across the bar, “and I’m putting together an exclusive high stakes weekly poker game.”

Win frowned in confusion.  “I’m afraid I don’t follow.  I don’t really know anything about poker.”

Molly’s lips twitched in amusement.  “I’m recruiting only the best, most qualified team of servers, dealers, and bartenders, which brings me to you.”

“I don’t know if I would call myself one of the best,” Win replied slowly, looking over Molly’s card, her eyes flicking back up to her face, meeting her level gaze.  “But I’m pretty damn good.”

Molly wanted her first New York poker game to make waves.  Apparently she wanted to rub her new success in someone’s face back in L.A., but Win didn’t know much about that.  When she arrived at the Plaza a half hour before the game was to begin, she had no idea what exactly she was walking into.

The suite Molly had booked was the definition of opulence.  Candles flickered in decorative glass votives scattered throughout the space, their warm rich scent permeated the air — a scent which Win learned later had been specifically designed to alleviate anxiety and make players more likely to place higher bets, throwing caution to the wind.  Elegant chairs and couches were arranged around the edges of the room, decorated with plush, gold embroidered throw pillows and set next to polished end tables with lamps that illuminated the room in a warm golden light.

The dark mahogany bar was stocked with the highest quality liquor money could buy, along with an array of mixers and garnishes for Win to mix any drink the players might ask for, but it was the pristine, green felted oval poker table in the center of the room that drew the eye.  Around it, spaced exactly twelve inches apart were ten high backed chairs.  Molly had even had gold embossed custom cards and chips made.  It seemed she really knew what she was doing.  

Before the players arrived, she gathered the staff, laying out the rules and reminding everyone of their duties and expectations for the night, as well as making sure everyone was informed of each player’s name, for a more intimate experience.

Win took her spot behind the bar, smoothing her hands over her sleek black cocktail dress to keep from fidgeting and wishing she had something a little flashier to wear, feeling a little plain next to some of the other women Molly had recruited, all gorgeous, and all in low cut glamorous gowns.

“Alright, show time,” Molly announced, crossing the room to throw open the double doors to admit the players waiting outside.

The group of men sauntered into the room, chatting amongst themselves.  Several smiled and nodded to Win and the other servers, while others paid them no mind, already focused on the game ahead as they took their seats.  But there was one that stood out from the rest of the group, younger than the others, his appearance meticulously crafted to give off a devil may care nonchalance with his wave of chestnut hair pushed effortlessly out of his face, and his silver dress shirt beneath his open blazer unbuttoned just far enough to show a glimpse of dark chest hair.  

On Molly’s list of players for the evening, he’d been marked as ‘Trust Fund Cole’, and the moniker fit, though Win wondered if he was aware of it.

As he passed, his eyes caught hers and a smirk curved his lips as his gaze lingered appraisingly.

Win kept her expression as smooth as possible, but her eyes followed him to the table, his chair the closest to the bar.  From what she could tell, he appeared to be in his mid-twenties, about the same age as her, probably Ivy league educated, and destined to inherit daddy’s millions one day.  Despite his good looks, he was just another spoiled rich boy, playing with the money he never had to work for.

Pushing down the wave of contempt at the thought, Win began preparing the players’ drinks as the servers returned with their orders, her muscle memory taking over and sweeping away the remainder of her nerves.  Most of the orders were merely liquor neat or over ice, with the occasional martini or old fashioned thrown in. 

As she was busy shaking the final cocktail, she noticed Cole’s drink of choice had been the scotch on the rocks she’d poured second.  He nodded to the server as she placed the glass at his elbow and he laid a chip on her serving tray by way of tip.

The first game began and Win leaned against the bar to watch.  She wasn’t overly familiar with the ins and outs of poker, but she was a quick study, and soon had a loose understanding of the rules and which hands were better to have.  But it was the players themselves she found the most fascinating, studying each of them to determine their tells, if they had any.

Though her eyes traveled the room, they kept returning to one player in particular; Cole’s striking profile entirely too distracting.  Each time she caught herself staring, tracing the sharp slant of his nose or the square curve of his jaw, she quickly tore her gaze away, though it would inevitably return.

It was during a break between games, while the dealers were switching places, that Win felt eyes on her, finding Cole watching her, a thoughtful expression on his face.  When their eyes met, his lips twitched and he lifted his empty glass, giving it a small shake, beckoning her over.

“I got it,” Win murmured to the server lounging at the far end of the bar as she moved to stand.

“Can I get a refill, please?  Scotch on the rocks,” Cole said, handing her the glass.

“I remember,” Win murmured, heading back to the bar to refresh his drink.

As he waited, Cole rubbed idly at his lips, hazel eyes following her every movement, and when she returned, carrying his drink on a small round tray, he smiled up at her as he took it, placing an orange chip in her hand, their fingers brushing for a brief second before he lifted his drink to his lips, watching her over the rim of his glass as he took a sip, his adam’s apple bobbing slowly.

“Thanks,” he murmured, holding Win’s gaze a moment longer and she gave herself a small shake, her brows climbing as she realized he’d given her a thousand dollar chip.

“My pleasure,” she breathed, quickly schooling her expression before hurrying back to the bar, wondering how much he’d given the other girl – though, at a quarter million buy in, a grand was probably pennies to him.

One of the other girls Molly had brought on, sidled closer, giving Win a look she didn’t quite care for.

“You know, when I approached him about joining the game, he seemed more interested in the chance to meet attractive women here than playing,” she murmured, nodding toward Cole, who had just called, leaning in to throw a couple red chips in.

When Win didn’t respond, the woman gave her long golden hair a toss, annoyance leaching into her smooth features.  “Just don’t forget that players are off limits.”

Win flashed the girl a tight smile that only lasted a moment before it slipped away, not appreciating the passive aggressive warning behind her words.

“I’m aware.  Besides, spoiled rich boys aren’t exactly my type.”

The other woman rolled her eyes, pushing away from the bar and Win was glad to see her go.

A little after four hours in, halfway through Win’s shift, they convened for a short break, giving the players a chance to stretch their legs and take care of any business they needed to see to.

Win slipped out to the balcony for a smoke, pulling a slender black cigarette from her bronze cigarette case and placing it between her lips as she snapped the case shut.

“Need a light?”

Startled, she spun toward the voice, only to find Cole leaning against the railing next to her, lighter already in hand.

“Thanks,” she murmured, her eyes flicking from the outstretched lighter to his face before leaning toward the small flickering flame, taking a drag as the end of her cigarette burned to life.  Pulling back, she blew the stream of clove scented smoke away while Cole lit his own cigarette and pocketed the lighter.

“I’m Cole, by the way,” he said, offering her his hand.

Win stared at it for a moment before taking it, noting how soft it was, as if he’d never had to work with his hands a day in his life.

“I know,” she said, a hint of a smile ghosting over her lips and Cole’s brows raised before furrowing in thought.

“Have we met before?  I’m sure I would’ve remembered a girl like you,” he insisted and Win let out a soft snort.

“No, Molly had us all memorize the names of each of player tonight,” she explained.

Cole nodded.  “Makes sense,” he mused, watching Win with interested.  “Though, I’m afraid that puts me at a disadvantage, and I don’t like that.”

“And how’s that?”

“You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

Win briefly considered dodging the question just to spite him, but she figured that might land her in trouble if he complained to Molly about her attitude.

“It’s Win,” she said, realizing her hand was still in his, grateful for the cover of darkness that hid the flush that rose to her face.

“Win,” he echoed, finally releasing her hand and she pulled back, quickly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her palm still tingling from his touch.  

“Sounds like what I’d like to do tonight,” he chuckled, grinning as he brought his cigarette back to his lips, watching her as his cherry burned brighter.  “Maybe I’ll get lucky tonight,” he murmured, smoke curling from his lips.

“I hope you mean at poker,” Win replied, throwing him a wry look at the suggestion behind his words and Cole held his hands up, a boyish grin splitting his face.

“Of course, what else would I mean?”

Win turned back to the railing, rolling her eyes skyward as she took one last drag on her cigarette before snubbing it out on the crystal ash tray by her elbow.

“What time do you get off?” Cole asked, flicking the rest of his spent cigarette over the side of the balcony.

“Why, so you can get lucky?”  Win asked, giving him a side eye, a note of scorn in her voice.

“No,” Cole answered quickly, running a hand through his hair.  “Thought we could get a drink.  Talk.  That’s all,” he insisted, lifting his shoulder in a shrug, a look of apprehension crossing his face.

Win studied him.  At first glance he was certainly charming, seemingly cool and collected, but there was still a boyish innocence there, hidden beneath the manicured surface, trying to be something he wasn’t.  “I’m not supposed to fraternize with players.  Molly’s rule,” she said, surprised at the pang of regret that twisted her gut.

“But–!” Cole spluttered, quickly composing himself, adjusting his collar.  “It’s just one harmless drink.  Molly doesn’t have to know.”

Win chewed her lip, glancing back toward the door, weighing the risk.  “Not that it’s any of your business, but my shift ends at three,” she said, grabbing her cigarette case and turning to head back inside, giving him a pointed look over her shoulder. “Three, huh?” Cole murmured, checking the time on his watch, a grin stretching his face.  “I’ll meet you at the hotel bar.”

Win didn’t respond, heading back to her spot behind the bar and taking a sip from her water glass, smoothing her expression as the dealer called the players to return to the table.

Shortly before three, Cole checked his watch and rapped his knuckles against the table.  “Think I’m gunna cash out and call it a night, fellas,” he said, pushing his chair back and standing to stretch.  

He’d won a fair amount of money despite losing some, but there would be other games.  “I’ll see you gentlemen next week,” he said, grabbing his suit coat from the back of his chair and shrugging it on.

“See you next week, Cole.  Thank you for playing,” Molly said, giving him a wave as he headed for the door.

He nodded to her, his eyes slipping to Win for a moment as he paused by the door before pushing it open and stepping into the hallway and out of sight. 

A couple other men got up to leave, calling it a night as well, as the dealers switched places and new staff came in to relieve Win and the others.

“Stop by my apartment sometime tomorrow and I’ll have your checks,” Molly said.

Win nodded, gathering her things and slipping out behind the other girls, looking forward to getting out of her dress and heels once she got home.

Opting to take the next elevator, she checked her phone as she waited, letting out a relieved sigh when the shiny elevator doors slid open and she had the elevator car to herself.  Letting her eyes slip shut, she leaned against the wall as she descended.  When the door opened with a ding, she opened her eyes and stepped out, pausing at the sight of the hotel lounge off to her left.

She knew she should keep straight, head to the front doors and catch a cab home.  Her feet ached and her stomach rumbled hollowly, besides, Molly had been clear with her rules.

But something tugged at her, curiosity, maybe.  Or maybe she just wanted a drink.  At least, that’s what she told herself as she found herself heading to the lounge.

Cole sat at the bar, a drink sitting in front of him.  He looked up as Win took the stool next to him.

“I was half expecting you not to show,” he said, waving the bartender over.  At this hour, there weren’t many others in the lounge, but it wasn’t called the city that never slept for no reason.

“I was half planning on not coming,” Win said wryly as she reached down to massage her sore ankles.

Cole wore a smug smirk as he looked her up and down.  “What’s your poison?” he asked and Win straightened.

“Whiskey cola,” she answered and Cole turned back to the bartender.

“Whisky cola for the lady.”

The bartender nodded and turned to make her drink, sliding it in front of her on a tiny napkin.  Win murmured her thanks and picked it up, swirling the dark fizzing liquid in her glass before taking a sip.

“So, tell me about yourself,” Cole prompted, taking a sip of the amber liquid from his glass – Win wondering briefly if he was still drinking scotch or if he’d switched it up.

“Like what?”

“Like… what do you do when you’re not bartending?” Cole said with a shrug.

Win chewed her lip, trying to decide how much she wanted to tell him.  “Oh, you know, hang out with friends, binge watch Netflix, play guitar sometimes,” she said, taking a drink and setting her glass back down, the ice clinking against the glass.  “Nothing near as exciting as playing high stakes poker with a bunch of millionaires,” she joked dryly.

Cole grinned, looking rather pleased with himself.  “I suppose you could say my life’s pretty exciting,” he boasted, leaning back in the high backed stool, threading his fingers together behind his head.  “Just got another new car, thinking about taking it for a spin when my family heads down to the Vinyard this summer, Martha’s Vinyard, that is,” he clarified with a smirk. 

“Oh yeah?  And how many does that make your total?” 

“Cars?  Three now, but I’ve picked out the fourth, just trying to decide which colour I want,” Cole answered, his voice dripping pride, completely oblivious to the sarcasm in Win’s tone.  “Oh, and you should see my dad’s new boat.  It’s top of the line in luxury.  A real beaut–”

“Is that supposed to impress me?” Win asked, cutting him off.

Cole gaped at her, her response taking him off guard.  “Well… yeah.  Doesn’t it?”

“What?  Not used to that reaction?” Win asked, letting out a dry laugh at the confused look on his face.  “So, I’m curious,” she said, not giving him time to respond.

“Yeah?” he prompted, taking a sip, his eyes trained on Win, definitely not pouting, his ego definitely not bruised.

“You clearly already have more money than you could ever need.  What’s the point in gambling?  Especially if you lose, seems like a waste,” she muttered, thinking about how much even a fraction of that money could make such a difference in her life.

Cole’s lips twitched.  “Well, it’s not really about the money,” he replied, as if that were obvious.  “It’s about the thrill, the risk.  It’s about being the best at the table.”

“Mmm,” Win hummed sarcastically.  “So, you’re just a bored little rich boy?”

“Hey now!” Cole exclaimed lightly, his mouth falling open in mock offense.  “There’s more to me than that!”

“Oh?  Like what?” Win asked, amusement dancing in her stormy grey eyes.

“I could show you,” Cole replied, dropping his voice and leaning in.  “If you let me.”

Win wet her lips, the sweet taste of whiskey still on them.  “And what makes you think I want that?” she asked, her eyes searching his.

“On please, you couldn’t take your eyes off me all night.  Don’t try to deny it, sweetheart.”

Win didn’t answer, merely bringing her glass to her lips, downing the rest of the drink and setting the empty glass on the bar with a soft thunk.  She let the silence stretch, deciding not to acknowledge Cole’s words, knowing he was right, she couldn’t deny it.

Holding his gaze, her lips stretched into a serene smile.  “Thanks for the drink,” she said, slipping off the bar stool and pulling on her coat, shaking out her short white-blonde hair.

Cole gaped after her.  “Wait!  Can I see you again?” he exclaimed, throwing back the rest of his drink and slapping a bill on the bar before hurrying after her into the lobby.

Win paused with her hands on the front door, just shy of pushing it open, and turned to look at him, amusement flashing in her grey eyes.  “I’ll see you at next week’s game,” she said, relishing the expression on his face–that incredulous half grin–as she pushed the door open to hail a cab.

“That’s not what I meant!” Cole called after her, stepping out onto the sidewalk behind her, but she merely smiled at him as she slipped into the backseat of the waiting cab, leaving him wanting more.

Watching the cab pull away from the curb and disappear into traffic, Cole shook his head.

Guess he was coming to the next game after all.

@whimsicalwadewinstonwilson @super-unpredictable98 @sailorskunk @rattkween86

[grisailledreams]

The Bed I Rolled

Who ordered more Astarynne*?

AKA who wants to witness the girls fighting?

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Pairing(s): Astarion x OFC // Astarynne (Astarion and Brynne)

CWs: Blood, injury.

I think this technically counts as hurt/comfort?

Brynne screwed her stinging eyes shut and shook her head to rid herself of the next round of blood droplets threatening to course over her brows. She panted. The stench of battle - death, fire, magic, burned feathers, sweat, decay - it choked her with each breath. Breathing through her mouth wouldn't have helped matters, she swore she could taste it all. She slowly turned and noted which parts ached instead of that odd mix of warm and cold in turn that came with open bleeding. Karlach stood in the open door of Isobel's room, amber eyes wide. Her rage ebbed. Neither of them hung up their weapons.

Wyll's voice trailed out behind Karlach, checking on Isobel - those horrible, winged creatures had tried their best to surround her. The cleric sounded wrathful.

"You okay, pinky?"

Though Dammon had fixed Karlach's touch problem, Brynne still felt the warmth of that large hand before it landed on her shoulder. Lightly. Like Karlach was still afraid she was going to hurt someone. Brynne nodded, sucking the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. The one-armed hug she received anyway made her stomach clench.

This had been her first fight without him.

She couldn't have known about the attack earlier, when she and Astarion raised their voices at one another only a few feet away from the spot she was standing now. Karlach and Shadowheart filled the cobwebbed, creaky mezzanine with unease and impatience. And Brynne had every right to be angry!

"I thought we were on the same page!" she had shouted, already on-edge from the curse surrounding the inn. "We agreed, we don't make deals with Raphael! You were very clear about that last time!"

"That was before I knew it wasn't bloody poetry carved into my flesh." He gave her that glare he used to flash when they first met, the one of disdain and disgust that came from the upper echelons of a city looking down on someone whose blood wasn't quite so blue or rich. Only this time, she recognized it for the wall it was. It hurt that much more. "I'm not sure who popped off this mortal coil and made you leader, but I certainly didn't give you authority over my choices!"

An empty beer mug had come flying over the railing from the bar below, shattering on the ground between them. Jaheira shouted at them to take it outside before she chose not to miss again.

The balcony hadn't made it better. They just… kept going. Brynne, dressing him down for offering himself up on a silver platter to a devil without knowing what he'd have to pay. Astarion, insisting that her solution of asking either Karlach or one of the myriad tieflings at the inn to translate his scars was the worse option. If the markings were, as he suspected, a note of bondage, then Raphael may help him out of it. What good would it do him to be free of one master if it placed him on the chain of another?

Something snapped. Brynne turned from him. She wanted to leave and she wanted to go now. Without Astarion. Without thinking, she jumped from the balcony to the cobblestones below, aiming for and missing a haybale. Cracking her knee felt like a fair trade-off. The next thing she knew, Karlach had jumped down and jogged after her.

No matter how much comfort Karlach offered, Brynne wouldn't talk about it. No, that wasn't it. She couldn't. Fear gripped her heart so tightly that she could hardly breathe, let alone form the words for it. Raphael's eyes when he looked on anyone from their party reminded her too much of hungry human men meeting elven women for the first time. Hungry. Not for their bodies, in Raphael's case, but for so much more. Karlach validated her feelings, tried to assuage her anger, and nothing worked. Brynne kept walking.

In her heart, she knew she needed to cool off, but she overcorrected. Ice formed a barrier around her when they found the door to the inn's cellar and went exploring. She stayed silent and let Karlach take the lead. Smashing crumbling walls, directing Astarion to pick locks. It wasn't until they found a strange, underground grotto filled with meenlocks that she pulled ahead. Crouching on a high ledge, she pulled the party into battle with a well-aimed bottle of alchemist's fire. She hadn't realized how offended the meenlocks would be by the gesture and soon found herself surrounded by the teleporting crab-things. Thunderwave. Push them. More took their place. They slashed at her with their claws, paralyzed her with their twisted magic. Frozen in place, she heard another set of boots clamber up on the rock formation behind her.

But after the meenlocks lay dead in smoldering heaps on the ground, neither adventurer spoke to one another. They were still hanging on to too much resentment. The other needed to offer an apology first, of course.

"This is my dinner, you filthy little Blidbdoolpoolpspawn! Back off!"

Thank the gods for the paralysis because Brynne would have forgotten to be angry with him and laughed at his flawless pronunciation of the kuo-toa goddess. In spite of his phrasing… she knew. And it helped her buck the hex holding her hostage.

It came to a head when they returned to camp and Brynne asked Astarion to stay behind. She hadn't thought anything of it, only that Wyll wanted to speak to Mol and he and Gale both needed new gear from Dammon, anyway. But Astarion looked gobsmacked. Then, of course, as if he didn't care. He went back to his book and waved her off without a second look.

They would make up later when the party returned to camp, the fire roared, and the wine came out. After all, a little thing like an argument wouldn't keep him from feeding when she'd already offered.

Divine Melira so loved to laugh at her bards.

It felt as if Marcus attacked the moment they were apart.

She didn't know how Wyll liked to fight, or how to coordinate spells with Gale. They all stepped on one another's toes. Or, at least, Gale and Brynne did. Unaccustomed still to his new infernal body, Wyll either missed or hit one of his teammates. Isobel was particularly unhappy with being on the receiving end of a Wounding Ray and Karlach yelled at him when he accidentally caught her with a whip. Meanwhile, the other magic users kept accidentally surrounding themselves in clouds of daggers and fire.

Astarion had fought with her so long at this point that it felt as easy as a lyre chord. They stalked their prey like jungle cats, hidden in the shadows, hand signals and mouthed words in perfect harmony. Like the Zhentarim hideout heist. The githyanki stashes. The druids' treasures. She distracted, he disarmed. Brynne even managed to impress him with her own slight-of-hand once or twice.

Now he wasn't here. Even with Karlach, she felt… exposed.

Somehow, they managed to make it out alive. Between the healing spells Brynne kept hurling around (one of Shadowheart's usual jobs) and Karlach making it her personal business to fell Marcus, the entire inn had but one casualty and one person carried off by a demon. Generally, a success. But it didn't feel right.

The world tipped off-balance and the blood dripping from the brim of Brynne's hat to the tip of her nose brought her back to the present moment. She looked up from her thoughts and saw her party watching. Ever-concerned.

Gods. She'd become one of her own awful love songs. Her heart ached, wounded, vulnerable, for the one she'd left behind.

So when they trudged once more back to camp, injured and filthy and exhausted, Brynne let her feet carry her the familiar path to that overly fancy tent where Astarion stood, still reading. His eyes gazed impassively at her. Bored. Uncaring. False.

"You look like you had fun, darling," he drawled. "Why the long fa-?"

Brynne flung her arms around him so hard that she knocked the book out of his hands and her hat off of her head. He hesitated. Then he hugged her back even harder.

[goatpaste]

How do the Pillar Men survive in the Pillarfam AU? They've still gotta eat vampires and that, unless the SPW found an alternative?

so i do have this SLIGHTLY vague answer of, yes they still need to consume the living for their own dietary.

Pillar men can go for longer periods of time if needed without eating. the consumption of a full human life is a lot to process and is pack full of the things a pillar man needs to live for some time, and a vampiric being is just that but better. (this is also why Holly has basically a high metabolism and constant need to eat certain foods rich in certain things her body needs a lot more of than in comparison to other humans)

Kars and Esidisi off on their own will eat when they need/want, usually only seeking out food when something wanders too close to their estate or when their feeling like havin a lil fun when going out.

as for Wham, eating whenever isn't an easy option for him living in human society with a mostly human family. So, as iv mentioned before, Wham takes trips alone from time to time. Both due to his own life span and past life style he would take up leaving home for periods of time just to wander and not be held to one place, before returning home. The idea of getting to return to a place that is his home.

However theses outings are also when he hunts. Joseph and Suzi know this, but Wham doesn't give out much detail on his own. He will talk about his travels, what he saw and such, and if asked, he will tell of his hunts. May it be story of a coward he hunted down and erased like a mistake from the face of the earth. or worthy enemies that gave him a fight worthy of sharing the story of, that he took the life of and honored their memory and the life he consumes from their flesh and soul.

Wham just wouldn't talk about these things in front of a Holly, who they still weren't ever sure if she had the same ability as her father to eat living beings in such a fashion, and not wishing to introduce her to that side of the family if it can be avoided. (Holly does end up learning and being explained when she's older ofc, especially when they begin to realize more and more how much of her shares the traits of a pillar men. Then having to deal with this much more when it becomes clear Jotaro also carries this trait after the incident in egypt)

The details of Whams hunts are hazy to varying degrees depending on who you are to him, left to Wham to hold and keep to himself or give out as he wishes.

so basically

if you hear Wham is looking into booking tickets for travel, you better watch out

[buffysummers]

My mom sat down and was watching a few episodes of Buffy and she had the audacity to say she didn’t like Angel as a character and I was like “he’s going through trauma right now he’s not himself” and then I’m watching Angel (especially for crossover purposes) and she said ��oh Angel is so much better on this show I like him more”...which I guess is true because we see MORE of him and get to know him better but I was screaming internally because he was always this good!!!! She just missed all of season one and most of season 2. Did you watch Angel if so what are your thoughts? or are you a Buffy-only stan?

I have watched all of ats only twice, so I am definitely just a buffy stan i’d say. I watched ats mostly bc of crossovers and references to buffy/scoobies/etc. I didn’t even know that angel had his own show until like 5 whole years after i watched buffy bc literally no one talked about it. i was also super young when i watched buffy tho so i probs didn’t question what they were talking about in 4x20 of buffy, for example. i just kind of figured it happened off screen, i had no idea we get to see the confrontation on ats! that being said, I do think angel is a lot more fleshed out on his own show bc it is his show, after all. on buffy, he is a supporting character and we really only see him when it’s central to buffy’s plot. I saw someone on here (I’m not sure who it was or else i’d link the post) discuss how angel’s characterization in the first 3 seasons of buffy develop and change based on buffy’s characterization. he grows with her. angel has more of a personality on his own show, but I have always felt intrigued by angel since he was first introduced. since we are told so little about him, and we know that he’s over 200 years old, I found him to be extremely compelling. I really wanted to learn more about him and what he did for all those years (which we learn a lot about on his own show). especially bc he’s dark, broody, attractive, sarcastic, sensitive, artistic and really smart. those are my favorite kind of characters. the fact that for over 100 years, he just wandered the streets depressed, feeling aimless, eating rats, but then he sees buffy, and he finally finds something worth fighting for.  he immediately wants to help her and protect her and I think that’s pretty inspiring. especially when you think about angelus... like angel is such a rich and layered character. people that say he’s boring are probably the type of people that don’t really think much about what they’re watching. if someone isn’t being loud, aggressive, flashy, they don’t hold interest. and this is in no way shading your mom bc I don’t know anything about her btw shdjgsdg but there’s just a lot of ppl that watch things and either a) aren’t very observant and don’t pick up on the nuances, subtext and subtleties and b) watch for entertainment only so they don’t really want to watch something they have to think about. it’s so much easier to watch a show and have all the flashy characters like cordelia and spike be your favorite characters. bc they’re designed to make noise and be over-the-top and extra.

as for angel the series, I think it’s a solid show but there’s 2 seasons of it that feel more like a soap opera to me so I wasn’t ever able to 100% invest myself in it or grow attached to it in the same way as buffy and other shows I really love. there’s some truly excellent episodes and storylines, but I am usually not as drawn to shows where the lead protagonist is a man lol. it also just feels very masculine compared to buffy, which makes sense. but it feels like it is a show geared toward men more than anything else, and that just isn’t my thing lol. no shade to those that absolutely love it ofc, we all have different tastes/interests! sorry for the word vomit I know this is so disorganized but I basically have a lot of thoughts and I don’t really know how to properly articulate them right now.

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 1- Taken

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 1095

Warnings: None so far! 

Prologue

...

"Your tears will get you nowhere, girl."

It was a large man that spoke. The yellow hair that hid half his face gave him an ominous look. Strange dark markings were inked upon his scared flesh, and a mischievous glint sparkled in his blue eyes. He crosses his arms, leaning against the wooden rails of the ship without a care in the world. He decides to watch her, but he always seemed to be watching her.

She didn't know what the giant had said, his native words sounding thick and harsh against her ears. She quickly wipes her face, choosing to turn away from him, but it was the same sight as always. Monks weeping as they struggled to whisper their prayers, holding on to their crosses in a grip that would surely make them bleed, and a few feet away on the other ships were other foreign captives that wept just a fiercely.

They drifted farther away from the island, yet it seemed close enough that if she closed an eye and stretched out an arm, she could touch it. But that was days ago. Their home seemed nonexistent now, like a speck of dust in a vast plane of emptiness. Days went by and all she saw was the blue waves of the Aegean, its current carrying the dragon headed ships away from her home and away from everything she knew. 

Sometimes, when she was much younger, she had silly little dreams of adventure, but they were never like this, to be stolen away and placed as cargo aboard a ship. 

Her skinned itched, feeling the eyes of strange men on her like flies to a carcass. She was grateful for the cloak she wore, the hood giving her the ridiculous notion of feeling safe. She wasn't safe.

Her mind drifts back to the attack as she stares hopelessly at the tides that push and pull against them.

The speed in which they destroyed the monestary seemed inhuman. They burned sacred texts, scavaging for religious items made of gold and silver. How lucky they were to have found exactly what they were looking for.

After a moment she finally sums up the courage to glance towards the back of the boat. All stolen items were kept there, and the crate was the newest addition to their hoard, full to the brim with precious metals.

A bitter chuckle bubbles within her.

That crate had almost saved her life.

Almost. 

The monks removed the items for close inspection before the heathens came, the crate being tossed to the side carelessly. It was a last minute idea really, but it was her only option when she heard them yell of Northmen arriving. 

She hid in the crate and prayed, but her prayers weren't answered.

The tales of the Northmen were well know throughout the eastern empire. Merchants whispered of their voyages and pillaging. Such stories were whispered about at the ports whenever her mother would take her to buy fresh fish and octopus.

For so long they were only told as tales. No one believed such men would invade that far into the Mediterranean. 

But just as the rest of Greece, Crete was a Christian island, and had been for centuries. That only meant they possibly had as many riches in their holy temples as the ones of England and Frankia.

One of the men was constantly barking out orders, his grating voice reminding her of the squawking of hungry seagulls, and it did not take her long to realize he was their leader. 

He was a man with a particular look. His long braided yellow hair whipped against the harsh winds as he commanded his men to steady the sails. 

He was also a man with a particular name.

Bjorn.

She learned his name rather quickly, hearing it from the mouths of the men when they looked to him for direction. It was Bjorn who found her, yanking her out of the old box with ease, the tip of his blade pressed against her throat, ready to be sliced. It would have been such an easy kill for him.

She was angry he didn't take the initiative. 

He laughed at the sight of her, as did the other men, probably surprised to find a girl among the Christian monks. She knew exactly what their looks meant. She was no stranger to them. They thought her a whore among men and wanted to take that prize back to their homeland. 

When one a them attempted to touch her, she growled and spat at his feet, sneering that she was no whore. He didn't understand her, of course, but that didn't stop him from choking her for the disrespect, leaving her a coughing mess as he bounded her wrists with rope.

There was another man worth noting. He sat at a decent distance from her. His kohl lined eyes were filled with a wild look that seemed to permeate over his entire appearance. He did nothing to hide his disgust with her.

"Christian," He sneers. 

She understood that perfectly well. 

Too overwhelmed with feelings of fear and anger, she gives the man the best glare she could muster. Such a glare made her feel a weakness she'd never felt before.

Utterly and hopelessly weak.

But the rage boiled under her skin like a fever. 

The kohl eyed man suddenly lurches forward while baring his teeth, laughing when she shrinks back in fear.

"Leave her be, Floki, she cannot hurt you," Bjorn had laughed with the other men, causing the wild man to grin viciously. She growls to herself, frustrated at the language barriers. They would not understand her either.

She takes in a large breath through her nostrils in an attempt to calm herself, releasing it along with her frustrations. Taking a quick glance at the inked man from earlier, she realizes what he was staring at.

From her ears hung the most modest of gold droplets, peeking through the mass of her dark hair. She gulps, quickly tucking her hair back under her hood in the best way she could with bounded wrists.

She then spares one last glance at the ominous man, not missing the smirk that settled on his lips before he turns away from her to finally leave her be. She takes in a deep breath as she flutters her eyes closed.

Then she prays.

She prayed for something, for anything, maybe even a miracle, but she found herself falling into an unrestful slumber instead, hoping she would wake up from the nightmare.

[justasparkwritings]

Codename Cupid: Chapter 8

Previous: Another Shot At Love Pt. 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi X OFC, Park Jimin X OMC

Genre: Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU, Slice of Life

Rating: NC17

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, Legal Alcohol Consumption, Degradation, Humiliation, Verbal Abuse, Horrible Family, Bullying, Sibling Rivalries, Homophobia, Toxic Masculinity

Summary: Codename Suga joins Codename Cupid at her parents house for family dinner. It’s both everything he imagined, and so much worse. 

Codename Another Shot at Love Part 3

Fall Post Graduation

           Park Yoongi, Codename Suga, arrived at the Lee residence dressed to the nines, a new suit, top of the line glasses and Ferragamo loafers that Hoseok had picked out especially for him. Nothing about his look screamed mid-level employee at a top-level bank, or government agent bent on destroying a company from within, which was the point. Namjoon had determined that to impress the Lee’s, Codename Valentine, Suga had to be runway ready. His hair was slicked back, and in his arms, a bottle of Makers 46, a bottle Cupid had ensured her father would appreciate. In his ear, a flesh-colored earpiece, specially designed, allowing his teammates, Codenames RM, Worldwide Handsome and J-Hope, to feed him lines when needed.

          Adjusting his spectacles and turning them on, Suga’s vision was momentarily blocked as the sensors began their job scanning everything and everyone insight, transmitting data in real time to his set up at OT7 headquarters. The glasses, a creation he had spent the better part of a year working on, were a modification of his third-generation specs. Not only could they recognize faces, scan for heat sensors, but log sounds such as alarm codes and lock patterns, decoding their passcodes in seconds. This was a marked improvement from the generation twos, which recorded sound and took up to 24 hours to decode. The recorded surveillance was wired through the major databases used by OT7 to track down faces of everyone Suga came in contact with. Tonight, their goal was to memorize every aspect of the Lee’s estate, transmit the layout into a CAD (computer aided design) drawing and print a scaled blueprint. They were also responsible for identifying every human in the Lee’s house, pulling names, birthdays, permanent addresses and social security numbers. In his glasses case, Suga had placed several microscopic microphones, which he placed on any surface he touched. They might not have eyes inside the mansion, but OT7 would have ears.

          “Park Yoongi,” The attendant declared as he stepped through the foyer and into the sitting room, where the entire Lee, Codename Valentine, family sat waiting for him.

          “Good evening,” Yoongi bowed deeply, a remnant of his heritage and a sign of respect.

          “Yoongi!” Euna said, standing and quickly wrapping her arms around his neck. Leaning in, she placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. “Mom, dad, this is Yoongi, my boyfriend.”

          Mr. Lee rose, looked Yoongi up and down before he spoke, “I hear you work for us. Good.”

          “Yes, sir, I do,” Yoongi nodded.

          “Your work is good, you fly under the radar, if you’re to continue this with Euna, you will need to do better,” Mr. Lee extended his hand, shaking Yoongi’s, before moving past him.

          “Sir, I brought you a gift, I heard it’s one of your favorites,” Yoongi handed the man the bottle and watched as he unwrapped it. His oafish hands tore through the tissue paper, impatient to get his hands on something he didn’t buy but eagerly wanted.

          “Ahh, a bribe, thoughtful,” Mr. Lee said before handing the bottle to the head of house, who had quietly walked into the room. She took it and carefully moved to place it on the shelf which housed an impressive collection of whiskey.

          Mrs. Lee looked at her cohort of older children. “Don’t be rude.”

          The three children rose and walked towards Yoongi. Towering over him, Dae-Seong and Jun-Seo glared down at him, a sinister smirk on both their faces.

          “Dae-Seong,” He said, squeezing Yoongi’s hand harder than necessary.

          “Jun-Seo,” He repeated the action, his hold lighter, his smirk faded into a thin line, laced with more concern than Yoongi imagined Dae-Seong could ever muster.

          “Yoongi,” Kwan-Min bowed before extending her hand, “Kwan-Min.” Her smile mirrored Euna’s, gentle and vibrant. Her eyes told the same story as her brothers, watch your back.

          “Nice to meet you,” Yoongi responded. Carefully taking a seat next to Euna, he smiled tersely at the family.

          “Yoongi, tell us about yourself,” Mrs. Lee requested. She slowly clinked the perfectly shaped sphere of ice in her glass, it slowly melting into the brown liquid.

          “Is there anything specific you want to know?” He responds politely.

          “Your file is thin, you don’t seem to want to advance at Lee Enterprises, so how’d you end up here?” Dae-Seong doesn’t mince words. Much like the booming timbre of his voice, his words cut straight to the point.

          “I worked in the Manhattan branch every summer of college, had two internships my junior and senior year, and then applied for an entry level position,” Yoongi could hear Namjoon, Codename RM, in his ear, repeating the fabricated story made ever more real by Hoseok’s ability to forge documents.

          “They moved you out here?” Mr. Lee questioned.

          “Yes, they asked if I would transfer,” Yoongi replied.

          “Why?” Dae-Seong was perplexed, no new hire was asked to transfer unless they were a problem worth handling.

          “They said I was polished, and my work was good,” Yoongi shrugged. WWH reminded him to lean into the nonchalance, the ultimate fuck-you attitude the Lee’s hated.

          “Seems vague,” Jun-Seo remarked. “Your childhood was rather bleak, wasn’t it?”

          “It wasn’t the best, but it was temporary,” Yoongi knew this was the line of questioning they’d take, and not just with him, with anyone not from the upper echelon, anyone not worth less than 100 million.

          “Your parents were, sorry, are, quite poor,” Dae-Seong pressed.

          “Poor to some is rich to others,” Yoongi answered.

          “But poor is still, poor,” Jun-Seo responded.

          “You haven’t dated much, either have you Yoongi?” Kwan-Min’s voice was velvet, soft and supple in the tense air.

          “I’ve had a few relationships, but none like Euna,” Mr. World Wide’s voice was clear and gentle, sell it Suga.

          “What makes her so different? Clearly you see things that we don’t,” Dae-Seong snorted back a laugh, it was a hideous sound, loud and haunting.

          “I see a lot of things in Euna. She’s thoughtful, considerate, she’s caring and funny. She accepts me for who I am, and makes me a better person,” Yoongi laid on the compliments like he hadn’t spent the last two weeks rehearsing them for OT7.

          It had taken him a while to list the characteristics he liked about Cupid, and ultimately had recruited WWH to write it for him. He stared at the words Mr. Handsome wrote, and was shocked that he still cared this much about her. Yoongi felt none of these things, none of these adjectives or memories that Mr. Handsome had strewn together resonated with him in the slightest. Cupid was a mark, a pawn in the play, nothing more.

          “Huh, lucky someone does,” Jun-Seo laughed, ribbing Dae-Seong and leading him in a cackle all their own. Yoongi glanced at Euna to see her jaw set, cheeks flushed, eyes glossed.

          “Jun-Seo, you have a guest,” The attendant from the front door announced, standing taught at the door. A blond-haired man entered, smirking with a hint of humor. Yoongi stared at his dazzling smile and kind eyes.  

          “You made it!” Jun-Seo stood to engulf the man in a hug, lips pressing aggressively to his lips. “I thought you said you were busy.”

          “I got away,” The blond responded.

          “It’s lovely to see you,” Mrs. Lee stood to embrace the man, followed by Kwan-Min. Yoongi watched carefully as Dae-Seong and Mr. Lee scowled, arms crossed, brows set. They didn’t have to speak their distaste for Jun-Seo’s apparent partner, it was written in their body language.

          “It’s lovely to see you too,” He said. His eyes didn’t glance at the elder males but landed squarely on Yoongi and Euna.

          “Lee Euna, is that how you greet me?” He questioned, a hand resting on his hip, hair lightly falling in his eyes.

          “I’m so happy to see you!” She bounded off the settee towards him, arms around his neck, holding him close. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you before the big trip!”

          Yoongi stared, dumbfounded, and blinked quickly, trying to understand the rapid change in her demeanor. Gone were the tears, the anger, the hate that was coursing through her body. It was replaced with care? Genuine excitement? What the hell is the big trip?

          “I had to get in one more family dinner before I’m gone for the month,” The blond smiled warmly at Euna, a twinkle in his eye as he glanced at Yoongi. “Is that?”

          “Oh! This is my boyfriend, Park Yoongi. Yoongi, meet Jun-Seo’s partner, Cho Jimin,” Euna said. The two men exchanged a handshake before sitting down next to their respective partners.

          “How long have you and Jun-Seo been together?” Yoongi inquired.

          “Hm, a year?” Jun-Seo replied, a hand resting gently on Jimin’s thigh.

          “Did you meet at work or-

          “Twenty questions with the twinks! Line em up, it’s time to play!” Dae-Seong yelled, earning a chuckle from his father. “First question, who tops and who bottoms? Follow up, is Jun-Seo as weak of a top as he-

          “Dinner is ready,” The head of house said, stepping into the room just in time. Rolling his eyes, Dae-Seong stood.

          “You’re gonna need your strength,” He winked at Jimin before brushing past them and heading for the dining room. Yoongi followed obediently and cautiously, taking his time putting one foot in front of the other as he followed the Lee’s. Pausing every so often, he carefully trailed a finger over a surface, leaving a singular mic, completely invisible, behind.

          The dining room was stunning, taken out of the palace of Versailles with a Korean twist, the marble floors and ornate chandeliers were out of this world. Flowers blooming in ancient vases, artwork that looked to be that of Picasso and An Kyŏn, Monet and Manet, lining the walls like the Louvre. There wasn’t anything the Lee’s money couldn’t buy, even 15th century originals were bound to become fodder in their quest for prestige.

          Draped across the table, a gold runner, glittering with what could only be described as actual gold flakes. Waterford Crystal glasses, and hand painted china rested delicately against the gold, the white shining brilliantly under the lights of the chandelier. Awaiting the guests, an endless array of traditional Korean food: Jjajangmyeon, Bulgogi, Samgyetang, Kalguksu, Galbi, Dubu Kimchi, Kimchi Fried Rice, with bowls of Hobakjuk as everyone’s appetizers, and Gyeranjjim waiting on a refined plate to be consumed with each passing spice.

          Yoongi’s eyes were wide, his lungs breathing rapidly to take in the scents of home, of familiarity. How peculiar to be eating the cuisine of his ancestors, of his blood, in a room with people who would willing spill each other’s.

          “Yoongi, sit next to Dae-Seong.” Mr. Lee instructed.

          Excellent, Namjoon muttered in his ear.

          “Dae-Seong, I hear that you’re making quite a splash as the Chairman,” Yoongi voiced.

          “Only bottom feeders eat my ass, Yoongi. For that you need to see Jun-Seo, appointment only,” Dae-Seong rolled his eyes.

          “Please, do not speak of your brother’s depravity at dinner. Save it for dessert,” Mr. Lee scolded, eyes hard on Dae-Seong.

          “When are we going to discuss Kwan-Min’s latest triste?” Jun-Seo inquired.

          “Now seems like the perfect opportunity,” Mr. Lee answered. “Dae-Seong?”

          In some sort of twisted ritual, Dae-Seong cracked his knuckles, then his neck, swirled a sip of whiskey between his lips and leaned in. Batting his eyes delicately at Kwan, he bared his teeth. Yoongi restrained from asking “you getting this?” to his team, because they were in fact, watching with bated breath.

          “The category is, colossal fuck ups. The reining champ, for the first time in, Euna, how old are you? Never mind, age has no number when you’re a twat. Kwan-Min, for a million dollars, explain how you found yourself cunt up with a political fundraiser? I’m sorry, a Republican political fundraiser?”

          Mrs. Lee gasped, her soup spoon dropping aggressively into her bowl, rattling the china. Euna didn’t look up, but quietly shoveled soup into her mouth, feigning ignorance.

          “Kwan-Min, how could you?” Mrs. Lee demanded.

          “If the rumors are true, and we’ll need Jun to confirm, Mr. Brady, I believe?” Dae-Seong inhales, eyes never leaving Kwan’s, voice even, “He’s particularly gifted in a few areas, and very well endowed and what was that other word? Oh yes, generous.”

          “Quite a generous tongue on that one,” Jun responded, shame flickering past his eyes in a brief moment before his resolve solidified.

          “How could you?” Mrs. Lee repeats again. “You are the second eldest of this family, the face of our philanthropy, and you are consorting with a known republican? Not to mention a man so cruel he, he,

          “He thinks Dae-Seong is weak,” Euna spoke. Her wavering voice echoed over the table, everyone’s eyes turning to her. “I mean, that’s what you’re doing, right Kwan? Find someone so repugnant that Dae is outraged, spurring on another break down in hopes he’ll OD and you’ll what, become chairwoman of the board?”

          “Fuck you for insinuating I make my decisions based on Dae. Do you live and breathe at his request?” Kwan spat, the heat from the food and the fight rising in her cheeks.

          “No,” Euna was incredulous, how could Kwan assume that?

          Through gritted teeth she responded, “Neither do I.”

          “For two million, Mr. Chairman,” Jun motioned toward Dae, “explain to us how you could be fucking a member of the opposing party, who has tried to ruin this family numerous times? Is the dick that great?” Jun-Seo pressed.

          “Don’t pretend that you haven’t fucked him, fag,” Dae laughed. “You two are the biggest whores in the game.”

          “That’s not true,”

          “The fact that you’re Eskimo siblings, not once, not twice, but have shared more than three sexual partners is revolting. You’re fucking freaks, sodomizing the legacy of this family for some log cabin taint who can’t even be bothered to pay the child support for the kids he knows about.”

          “How do you know so many categories of gay men?” Euna asked, eyes narrowing at Dae-Seong, “You been experimenting?”

          “Oh, don’t even get me started on you and your choices, Euna,” Dae rolled his eyes then glanced at Jun-Seo, who was sneering at him.

          “What could you possibly say that you haven’t before?” Euna cackled, a sound so foreign Yoongi can’t help but feel his eyes bug out.

          “Whoa,” Mr. Handsome says in his ear.

          “Oh shit,” RM responds.  

          “You’re not even worth discussing,” Kwan-Min stepped in, and swinging the last of her cocktail back, she turned to Dae-Seong. “I’m more interested in your affinity for homosexual stereotypes. Tell me, when you’re alone in your house, your wife sleeping in a separate apartment, cities away, is that what you’re watching? Is that what gets you off? Picturing a willing gaping hole, just waiting to be ruined? Or no, I’m sorry, but Jun, don’t you think he’d be-

          “A power bottom? Absolutely, he spends his nights ogling over submissive bears, trying to find one big enough to fill him, scrolling through chatrooms under, what was his username?” Jun-Seo doesn’t look at Kwan, he knows she understands what is about to transpire.

          “Beary-willing007,” They recite together.

          J-Hope guffaws in Suga’s ear, followed by a loud “oh shit!”

          “I can’t imagine how it would look if your little, what did you call it?” Kwan asked.

          “The twink or the fag?” Jun-Seo repeated Dae’s words so seamlessly, so effortlessly, to a blind eye it would’ve been hard to tell that Jun wasn’t Dae’s twin.

          “Both, if your nefarious activities and browser history was discovered, or dare a say, leaked?” Kwan raised an eyebrow.

          “You think you scare me?” Dae-Seong asked. “Summer, 2012, what happened to you?”

          “Why would you bring that up?” Kwan’s glare faltered, a subtle shift in her brow, the sneer dipping before returning at full capacity.

          “We need to know what happened summer 12,” RM stated, voice low as he jotted down the date.

          “You want to throw dirty laundry out into the open, might as well air yours,”

          “Fuck you,”

          “I didn’t start this,”

          “Yes you did,”

          “Jun-Seo, care to tell us what happened to you winter, 2014?”

          “No,”

          “I thought so,” Dae pointed his knife at each of them, “Before you go accusing me of being a fucking homo, check that I don’t have your history sealed and filed.”

          “Did you get that?” RM asked.

          “Yeah, got it,” J-Hope responded.

          “And Euna,” Dae turned his attention to his youngest sibling, who sat quietly eating her food. “Don’t ever bring a bottom feeder home again, unless he’s going to eat my ass, you hear me? Or I will do to you what was done to Kwan-pussy-ass-Min.”

          “Fuck you Dae,” Euna spewed.

          “Excuse me?” He yelled, standing to his full height.

          “I said, fuck you,” Euna repeated with a little more gumption.

          “Oh Euna, little Euna, too smart for everyone, too polite and meek to ever be taken seriously, to fucking boring and oblivious to know that her boyfriend’s only date her for access or career status, so stupid that she can’t recognize that the only reason she’s getting the company is that she’s so incompetent, no one will believe her when –

          “Dae-Seong!” Mr. Lee yelled.

          “Don’t bring a fucking knife to a gun fight, Euna, I will end you.” He seethed.

          “What is your problem with Yoongi? He’s the first man I bring home and you-

          “What do you not understand about our family? What do you not understand about the caliber of person we need to be with in order to-

          “What, watch porn, order sex workers and pray the gay away?” Euna yelled.

          “Watch your tone,” Mr. Valentine said.

          “You’re acting like you don’t have secrets, like your marriage is pure and good, it’s not Dae. I don’t blame her for leaving you, anyone with a modicum of sense would see that you are nothing more than a toxic, manipulative, alcoholic coke head, who only has his job because daddy loves him the most.”

          “You think your relationship with Yoongi is going to be any different?” Jun-Seo spoke up, deflecting from the rising anger in Dae. “What makes you so special?”

          “First, I love him,” Euna responded, earning a scoff and eyeroll from every member of the Lee family. “Second, if he makes it out alive from this dinner with you assholes, then he truly is the most resilient person in the world. Finally,”

          “Thank fuck,” Jun-Seo exclaimed.

          “Finally, he was raised to be kind and respectful, unlike the four of us,” Euna concluded with a haughty exhale and a glare at her mother.

          “Wait – are you sure that’s not just Seokjin in a new suit?” Dae-Seong cackled, nodding at their father who also laughed.

          “I hate this family,” Euna rose and tossed her napkin on the floor, a dramatic flair that sent her brothers and father into a fit of laughter.

          “You act like you aren’t the ingrown hair on the taint of this family, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that I would love to extract you,” Dae said.

          His words hung in the air as Euna walked out of the living room, Yoongi on her tail.

          Catching up to her, Yoongi reached for her hand, which she hastily pulled away.

          “Euna,” His voice was measured.

          “Can we please just go?” She whispered, tears beginning to stream down her face.

          “Yeah, can I just run to the bathroom quick? Grab the coats and I’ll meet you outside,” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before following one of the workers to the nearest bathroom. Hoping to shake the worker, Yoongi deftly exited the bathroom before wandering down the hall. He followed the sound of voices and stopped short of what he assumed was Mr. Lee’s office.

          Mr. Lee stood next to Dae-Seong, a fresh glass of whiskey in hand. “Did you read the brief on UAE?”

          “Yes,” Dae-Seong answered.

          “I want your recommendations tomorrow by 9AM,” Mr. Lee instructed, “None of that pussy shit you drew up for Spain, either.”

          “Pussy shit in Spain is child’s play in the Emirates. I’ll bring something, nuclear,”

          “Don’t jerk me around like you do with your pathetic excuse for a cock, Dae. I do not want to have to fire you and replace you with Jun-Seo,” Mr. Lee slammed his glass down before retreating through a door Yoongi hadn’t seen when he’d glanced in.

          “I’m sorry father, I will have the materials ready,” Dae’s voice was pathetic, deflated in the wake of his father’s anger. He hated being belittled and demeaned, hated the hurt his father hurled at him, the constant need for him to be better than everyone else. He hated how easily it came to Euna, how she could understand the numbers and draw connections within seconds of being presented with the problem. He hated Euna’s prowess, how businessmen and women flocked to her, a cello prodigy, ballet star in training, perfect grades, whored out to different branches so she could learn the business. Every fuck up Dae-Seong had made resulted in Euna’s success, and their father and mother, though more covertly, had egged his jealousy on.

          Yoongi placed a mic on the inside of the door before slipping back into the hallway and out of the Lee estate, to Euna’s embrace.

          “Your place or mine?” He asked as he sat in the driver’s seat of his car.

          “Anywhere but here,” She responded, eyes blinking down tears as Yoongi drove.

Next: Searching for Seokjin Pt. 2

[boogiewrites]

Mae Flowers Chapter 5

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Summary: A modern, magical Alfie Solomons AU.

Warnings/Tags: Language.Magic/Supernatural. Soul mates.Some domestic fluff, getting to know you stage. Talk of the unknown. 

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

When she woke to a warm spring morning, Mae was thankful she didn’t have puffy eyes or a headache from crying the night before. She’d sobbed hard, sadness surging from an uncontrolled well of emotion that had always been within her. She was a sensitive soul she’d been told before, both in the form of compliments and insults. Being sad that people weren’t nice to her when she always went into interactions with a good heart wasn’t something new to bring her down. But she’d had something to make the roller coaster of let down shoot back up suddenly and she was caught off guard. A nice man to be kind and take care of her after the rest of the world seemed to be against her all day. It was too much for her still fragile heart to handle and despite being less sad, but mostly confused and uncertain, she cried again. She hated crying in front of others, she quickly became overwhelmed with thoughts of being less than and looking down on her for not controlling herself.

But she hadn’t felt that last night. No, she felt seen and heard. She had someone to look her in the eyes and tell her her feelings were valid, that crying was healthy and being able to feel so deeply was a gift and not a burden. Perhaps that’s why she hadn’t woken up feeling an emotional hangover like she had every other time she’d cried. Things were already proving Alfie right with how they would work better together than apart. Luckily, she had just woken up and therefore didn’t have the capacity to think about that at the moment. Right now all she was really focused on was having to pee.

Alfie sees her scuttle the short distance between her room and the bathroom in her slippers and pajamas. Little shorts and a tank, all her softness wobbling with a sleepy shuffle of her small feet. He grinned, a small huff of amusement for the little fluffy goblin scuttling around her own house.  He hears the click of the bathroom door as it opens and calls out to her, “Breakfasts almost ready. Ya in?” his neck stretches in her direction, head tilted to hear her muffled reply in the affirmative.

She entered the kitchen, hand disappearing into her bed head curls to mindlessly scratch as she yawned. “Smells good.” she approves, a sniff and a heavy-footed saunter over to the round kitchen table.

“Fanks.” he mutters, multitasking with pans and spatula. “‘Mornin’ luv. Ya slept well I take it? Didn’t a hear a peep all night.” He could’ve said my dreams were as smooth and clear as a moonless night’s reflection atop a lake. A sure sign that she wasn’t bothered in her sleep.

“Yeah.” she nods, her hair bouncing as she did so. She fusses with her hair, pushing it back as he approaches the table. “Oddly enough.”

“Odd will become commonplace soon enough.” a nod and a self-assured tone she hoped to emulate moves out of a barrel chest in his plain white t-shirt. She recalled the shirt from the first time she’d seen him in her dreams. What an odd fact, she muses to herself. Perhaps he was right. “That’s some immense hair ya got there.” he smiles down at her with an affectionate inkling in his eye and tone.

“Thanks?” she gives him a quirked brow as she tilts her head up at him, peeking out from under her mop of half-formed spirals.

“Was a compliment.” he clarifies as she nods and becomes quickly distracted by the food being slid in front of her. “Full English.” he declares, his shoulders hunched as he turns to retrieve his own overflowing plate. A perk of being immortal was he could eat almost anything and everything and not give a second thought to it. He now had an excuse to make the rich comfort foods he missed. He found himself not neglecting but finding comfort in the things of old that made him, him. He had run from the messier human emotions for a long while. He ran from the things that made him human in the first place as well. That entailed disappearing and not emerging until everyone he knew was long dead. It included religion, sex, and human comforts. He was his darkness for long years, but this little sunspot was bringing him back to his old self. The things that made him Alfie before things took a turn for the worse and he became what he was now. She made him feel human again. Among other things.

“Tomatoes?” she asks, her head tilted like the curious Percy’s that just jumped onto the table to sniff at the mushrooms dissapprovingly.

“Breakfast, innit?” he says, a fork in hand and a sausage already on the way into his mouth.

“And beans?” she keeps the same confused expression.

“It’s what we ate when money was good when I’s growin’ up. Comfort food, that.” he points with a greasy fork across the sun-streaked table from the light coming through the patio doors.

“Full English.” she mutters as if it were still a question to her. “S’good.” she shrugs and pushes things around on the plate.

“Got tea, English as all bloody hell.” he chuckles and points to the kettle. “Coffee, bangers, beans, bacon, beefeaters from the garden and mushrooms. Ya made me some of your soul food, ya comfort food. This is mine.”

“Food is… weird.” the sleep starting to fade fro her voice but clearly her mind wasn’t matching up to what her mouth wanted to say.

He snorts with a mouthful of food as she chews thoughtfully. “You gonna elaborate on that ingenious remark?”

She gives him a smile, knowing there was no ill will in his jab but agreeing that she certainly would have fleshed out what she meant more. “Everyone’s gotta have it, but it’s different everywhere ya go. It’s the backbone of any culture, somethin’ anyone could know about y’know? But somehow it’s also deeply personal despite it bein’ somethin’ that everyone has.” she pauses and takes another bite. “It’s weird.” she shrugs despite that being her final statement.

“Humans are weird would be a more overlapping remark. But it goes without sayin’. Humans can make anything personal. A rock, a meal, a string of words. Very self-absorbed, very self-important. But it’s in their nature. Means of survival ‘n that.”

“Their nature? You aren’t human?”

“I was. At one time. I’m more of a vessel if you will. I am me, yeah? I hold everything that made Alfie Solomons a man, a human. But I am also timeless energy that is simultaneously full to the brim and empty all at once. Knowledge from the very beginning of time, and past the present. I’ve lived in the underworld and on this side as well.”

“That’s… sorta heavy for breakfast, man.” she states blankly before they both move into a shared laugh.

“You asked. I am here to answer.”

“Thanks for answering,” she says sheepishly. “Do I also contain all that? Time and space and the whole Carl Sagan monologue?”

He gives her one of those smiles that makes her avert her eyes. The kind that handsome men have beautiful ladies when they courted them. She wasn’t equipped to deal with his charm and ruggedly handsome face this early in the morning. Or ever, for that matter. “Yeah, love ya do. Which is why we’ll be starting with some meditation today. Help you get in touch with all that. It’ll help every facet of ya complicated self. Gotta learn restraint and control before we move onto the more… intense activities.”

“Am not gonna have to like..sacrifice anyone am I?”

He lets out a sudden laugh. “Nah, love nothin’ of the sort. Not unless ya want to.”

“I don’t.” is a quick and curt answer given. Of course, she didn’t. A little ray of sunshine made of life itself wouldn’t want to get messy. That was more his side of things.

“Noted.” he gives a firm nod and a supportive closed mouth smile before they both become absorbed by the task of fueling up for their work.

-------

He had asked her where she would feel most comfortable, and to no surprise to him, telepathic of not, she had said in her garden. With a reassuring hand on her back, he leads her to the middle of a grassy patch in the center of the back yard. Her land was totally enclosed with a high fence and the outlines covered in different flowers and bushes and fruit-bearing trees, buzzing with insects already so soon into spring. A warm sun beamed down, making her brown skin shine, freckles happy to soak up the rays and darken across her cheeks, the yellow light hitting her eyes and lighting them up golden with her lush mixture of green spun delicately around her tight iris. Her curls shone, the sun-kissed streaks happy to lighten with their long missed sunbaths every day from being stuck inside during the cold months. They were bouncing happily, air dried as she perched with crossed legs on the soft grass.

“This is a lovely garden, by the way, pet. You’ve done a bang-up job on your own.” he grunts out as she adjusts his legs to mirror her.

“Thank you. I’m very proud of it.” a soft but accepting smile graces her round and darling face as she squints in the sun.

“Ya should be.” he nods and clears his throat. “Have ya ever meditated before?”

“Not really no.” she shook her head. “I’ve lit incense and practiced some deep breathing before. But not like... Ommm and…” she pushes her middle fingers and thumbs together, resting them on her knees to explain.

He suppresses a smile at her wordless explanation of her length of knowledge on the subject. “I see.” he moves to take her hands. “Ya have a hard time quietenin’ down that mind of yours don’t ya?”

She nods, a hint of being ashamed in her eyes as she casts them downward.

“Now, now. No judgment here. This is Day 1, Step 1. Any progress is good progress. No progress is still practice, yeah? I’ll be gentle on ya don’t worry. Not here to upset ya.”

She presses her lips together and nods and takes a deep breath to steady herself.

“Now. First, we’re gonna close our eyes, yeah?” He leads her through being in the present. Taking in the moment. Acknowledging every sound and feeling, the blades of grass tickling her bare legs, the buzz of bee’s and the warmth of the sun, a kiss of wind that rustled her hair. She could sense it all, that was fine, but now she had to let it all go. “Work to clear your mind. No worries. No curiosities and philosophical musings. Just be. If a thought comes, say ‘ello, and let ‘im be on ‘is way.”

She smiles at his playful lit in explaining and she finds comfort now with his touch, hands clasped together between them.

“We’re going to have a moment, now. Try to work on that for a bit. I’m here if ya need me.”

“‘Kay.” is her soft reply as she tries to clear her mind. The garden fades away, but her thoughts still clumsily barge in. Worries about the future, the past, is she doing it right, was he sure he had the right girl? She tries to push it away and struggles.

“Ya need help, luv?” he offers with a gentle rub of his thumb against her hand.

“Yes, please.” she asks in an almost whisper of a voice.

“No shame in asking me for help, right? So make it sound like ya aren’t ashamed. I’ll ask ya again. Do you need help, luv?”

“Yes.” she states clearly, louder and a nod to back it up.

“That’s a girl. I’m gonna use my energy to calm ya down. Don’t be afraid of it. You'll feel it.”

She takes a shaky breath. “Okay. I’m not. Thank you.”

“Good girl.” he acknowledges her attempts at being self-assured and squeezes her hands. He didn’t have to, but he thought a physical cue might help her out at these early stages.

She does feel it, and it feels amazing. A shiver up her spine, his power like cool water in her veins as she exhaled in a sigh, feeling her shoulders lose their tension. Is what relaxed felt like? She didn’t know her.  “Oh, wow.” she exhales.

“Good?” he asks, concern in his voice.

“S’good.” she gives a dazed smile that he doesn’t see. A grunt in response is all she receives.

There’s an easy silence between them. She doesn’t know how long it goes on, but she felt like a popsicle left out in the sun, a puddle on the grass, a fat happy frog soaking up the sun for energy without a care. A thought floats by, and she decides to share it. “Am I...looking for something?” she asks.

“If ya like. It’s a bit advanced but we certainly can. You can ask a question, ask for guidance, clarity, divination. Whatever ya like.” he explains.

“I’d like to try.” her voice quiet but due to the relaxed state she was in and not from fear any longer.

“Go on, then.” he reassures her.

“Do I have to share it with the class?” the honesty in her voice makes him let out a laugh, a quiet one as not to startle her but her endearing and effortless charm was taking him by surprise.

“Nah, luv.” he chuckles out and gives her hand a delicate brush with his thumb again to show support.

What do I even ask? She wondered. I’d like to know… anything at this point. Okay, focus. I wanna know who he is. Who… we are if we’re these… soul mates. I just wanna know what it all means. Hmmph, not asking for much there are you. She sighs out of frustration and focuses up again.

He feels her drifting and pull back and smiles. She’s learning fast.

I want to know who this man is. Who is this Alfie Solomons? Do I trust him? Is he who he says he is? What is it that I feel when he’s near, this vibrating energy inside that feels like I’m on the verge of something, good or bad I don’t know. I just want to know...anything really….please? She would be the only one who could give puppy dog eyes to the universe and have it bend to her will.

After a short while, a not awkward silence, he feels something. A tingling in his fingers first, then moving up his arms. Were they falling asleep? It wouldn’t make much sense he wonders but he soon realizes it’s coming from her. It grows warmer as if he’d sunk into a hot bath. He ran cold, like a reptile, cold-blooded before her, and feeling warm blood in his veins was something he hadn’t felt in over a hundred years. A wiggle of his heart in his chest, a warm slinking feeling up his neck and into his mind. It was far stronger than anything he expected. But he would soon find out, she was a lot stronger already than he anticipated. Her coy nature and shyness a mere cover for the intensity that lies beneath. She had been protecting everyone else with her reservations, not protecting herself.

Her intention ran through him, she wanted to know him, and her power sought him out. The universe said, if you want him, have him, I only made him for you after all, and lets her creep into his mind. It all came in flashes, waves on a shore that faded in and out, too fast to grasp it all at once.

She smelled alcohol. Something sweet and deep, she could hear machines, men yelling, heavy footsteps up old wooden stairs. There were strongly scented leather books, piles of paperwork and a feeling of unease. Another wash of nostalgia washes over her, she sees a dog, happy and excited. She sees an empty bed sat in a dark room filled with books and papers, the walls covered in so many different things, both common and rare that she couldn’t make them all out. She smells the strong scent of cleaning chemicals, a woman by a sink, working hard and a feeling a longing overtaking her. There’s a hat over the doorway, a beacon for something important, a cane by a bed, bottles that looked like medicine on a nightstand. She saw blood in the sink, a sinking in the pit of her stomach.

“Mae.” she hears him echo in her head. He wasn’t speaking aloud. “Stop it. You don’t want to go there. -I- don’t want you to go there. You won’t find what you want here. Go back.”

Her eyes fluttered behind their lids, her hands grasping his, his underlying anger showing itself for her uninvited intrusion.

A hiss that wasn’t Alfie snaps up and shuts her out. It speaks a language she does not know, but it doesn’t frighten her, although she wonders for a moment if it should. His darkness. She knew it immediately. She’s endlessly fascinated. A black smoke, formless and endless whirling, moving through muck and earth as she pursued it with hungry curiosity. -Come see. Your answers.- a distinctly masculine but not human voice says, the smoke twists into a long cylindrical shape, it forms and shifts, an awe-inspiring black iridescence comes to shape. She sees a snake, endless, it could fit in her mind but was larger than the planet somehow. She knew he, his darkness, was the snake. A fitting symbol of rebirth and transformation, immortality and renewal, as death and destruction were all forms of creation in the end. It was as if she were being gifted with sight for the first time. She could see him, and know what his essence stood for.

Sunlight shone on it and the most beautiful colors came off its scales. She realized she was the source of the light. It twists up and directs her eyes to a moon. It’s blue, purple and green, all pastel and colored like the snake. They were one, they were the night and the darkness and everything that called it home. The dirt, the death it holds, both old and new, the beasts that only emerged to worship the moon and live in the dark were its children. Every cold-blooded animal, every reptile and insect knew it and didn’t fear it. So it came for her to understand, neither should she.

She sees her sun take form, moving towards the moon. She felt no fight between them. It was as if they wanted to be close, but had long been separated by the sides of the earth. Something that existed, but didn’t, that faded in and out unnoticed until it was already upon you. They radiated blindingly bright together, and the behemoth snake reveled in it. She felt a strange pull, a split from herself as a rabbit came into view. The snake circled itself, mouth to tail as it writhed, an ouroboros as the white rabbit neared. The rabbit was her, she realized. She was seeing her light, the mate for his darkness. A rabbit she pondered, watching he fearless bound about in the sunlight, warm thick fur and a wet twitching nose, full of life and energy. Her light was life, fertility, and growth, creation and desire. A vulnerability, a softness unparalleled was what she contained. She suddenly understood it. Understood what it meant to be her, to be him, and thus, understood why they had been destined to find each other.

The rabbit and snake entwine, the sun and moon fusing, something that should’ve seemed unholy or apocalyptic seemed to make perfect sense to her. It all came together, just like everything did, from the first creation to the last, she’d always been there, and so had he. She, life, sending him, death, her gifts that he loved so much he kept them forever. A blinding light went dark and she was no longer separate from herself as she gasped and went eyed, flung back into the present, in her human body, hands tight around Alfie’s forearms, nails digging in and sweat pouring from her.

He blinked at her, the most curious expression on his face as she caught her breath. “You understand now, don’t you?” It was more of a rhetorical question at this point. “You’re more powerful than even I knew, Mae.” he pauses again, waiting for her to process it all.

“Yeah… I am.” she says with the first absolutely certain tone she might’ve ever had in her life.

“You’ll only grow more so from here. You’ve surpassed my expectations already.” he pats her shoulder and they meet eyes, as if for the first time. He sees her with a question and not fear in her eyes. She had found the answers she was looking for. At least she had enough knowledge now to grasp the situation. “This is only the beginning, luv.”

I tried to reverse search the image and came up empty handed so if you know whose it is, I’l gladly credit them. 

@jaegeeeeer​  @brianaisasongbird​ @hardygal69​ @emerald-bijou​ @captstefanbrandt​ @coolgh0st​ @tinastarkandco​ @xstylishmileage​   @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​ @peakys-mystic​ 

[jadielxabrego]

&&. ( jadiel ‘jackson’ abrego ) was just spotted in amsterdam. rumor has it ( he ) is a ( 36 ) year old ( alpha werewolf ) who resembles ( oscar isaac ). ( he ) has been said to be ( loyal & protective ) but also quite ( stubborn & impulsive ).with all the chaos surrounding the magical underworld, ( he ) has chosen to align with ( the werewolf resistance ). ( he ) is currently serving as ( co-leader of the werewolf resistance ). hopefully the city doesn’t devour him whole. // xander, 29, he/him, pst timezone 

hey there! i’m xan, this is my first time rping on tumblr and i’m a fun combo of excited and nervous, but plan on giving it my best. i don’t have discord currently as my work uses it as a point of contact, so i can only be signed into my company’s account while working from home (thanks covid). i can be reached via tumblr ims, tho, and will try to set up a discord account at some point if i can figure out a way to be logged into two accounts at once. for now, here’s jadiel!                                                   

                                                                  STATS

name: jadiel ‘jackson’ manuel abrego

species: alpha werewolf

age: 36 years old 

birthday: august 3rd 

sexuality: possibly bisexual? haven’t fully made up my mind yet, he prefers women

positive traits: loyal, protective, confident, intuitive, passionate, selfless, resilient

negative traits: stubborn, hotheaded, impulsive, reckless, demanding

                                                           BIOGRAPHY

Jadiel was born in el salvador, to a single mother whose father had abandoned her before he was born. she worked tirelessly as a waitress and a housekeeper to support them, but they were never quite able to make it out of the slums, especially when she gave birth to two other children by separate fathers --- rich white men who owned the properties she tended to and told her that they’d take care of her only to not only fire her, but refuse to acknowledge the existence of either child she bore them. because of this, jadiel quickly took to supporting his family, and dropped out of highschool when he was only seventeen to provide for them by working odd jobs and even regularly competing in underground cash fights. 

One night in particular, everything went wrong. he won the heaviest purse in a seedy cage fight that had been drawn out for hours on end, it was when he was returning home to his family that he was suddenly ambushed from behind. the man that he had just fought --- he was a werewolf, and while the use of his supernatural strength had been forbidden during the match, he used them to his full extent on jadiel now. he bit at him and tore into his flesh, leaving him for dead in the backwoods that jadiel walked through to get home. 

Even though werewolves weren’t yet known to the world, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened to him by the time the next full moon came around. he was un lobo, now and forever, and he made the decision then to leave his family. he was dangerous, there would be a target painted on his back the moment the werewolf that had turned him realized he was still alive and transformed, and his mother and siblings would almost certainly be killed in the fallout. instead, he told his family that he’d been offered a high-paying job in europe working on freights, and that he’d send money to them every month to continue supporting them. it broke everything inside of him to leave el salvador, but it was either that or tell his poor madre the truth about her oldest son. 

That was almost fifteen years ago. he found work in europe and sent back the majority of his wages to his family as promised, keeping only what was absolutely necessary for him to survive. he met other wolves and bonded with them, eventually he was introduced to a pack within amsterdam, and erik --- the leader who was looking for a partner. eager to prove himself, and wanting desperately to stand up for the rights of wolves now that their existence had become public knowledge to the world, jadiel offered up all of the skills and abilities he had learned as an alpha wolf. together they formed what is now known as the werewolf resistance, but jadiel trusts his co-leader no more than he did the first day that they met.

Lurking beneath erik’s supposedly sure-footed demeanor, there’s something that jadiel just doesn’t trust. something he suspects. and the way he behaves around female omegas in particular... something just isn’t right. for now he keeps his opinions to himself, but he’s largely running the resistance on his own, rebellion is in his blood and he’s out to protect the needs of his pack instead of his own... something that can’t be said for erik. 

                                            WANTED CONNECTIONS:

fellow members of the resistance! the admin team gave me permission to make the co-leader (erik) a dick, and so i’ve done so quite gladly. jadiel is relentlessly passionate when it comes to other wolves, regardless of whether or not they’ve joined the rebellion. 

people from his past that he meant years ago when he first traveled to europe, this would have been when he was just learning how to be a wolf and acclimating to his alpha status

lovers, past and present! he’s never settled down, i wouldn’t call him a manwhore but he definitely ruts it out every full moon. i’d love to find an eventual mate for him to imprint on (or maybe one that he already has but doesn’t know about?) 

FRIENDS! bros of any gender. most likely to be another wolf or a human (one that’s allied with the rebellion ofc), he really doesn’t trust angels and obviously not vampires.

proteges and apprentices, jadiel loves to take people under his wing (haunch?) and train them. he’s a really good leader in that sense, he’s always there to guide.

enemies! people he hates with utmost vitriol. most likely to be a vampire or a fallen angel, but could also be another wolf if they’re part of the coalition... he hates those bastards the most. also werewolf-hating humans.

anything else you can think of :) my ims are totally open, i’ll hit you up as well if you reply to this post!

[littlefreya]

Penny Dreadful

Summary: Sherlock is cold, troubled and upset, his mind is fixed on cracking an unsolved murder. It’s the worst time to disturb him. But his hot-blooded little succubus wants to drag him into sin.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (First-person POV)

Word count: 2.5K

Warning: 18+, smut, teasing, bratty behaviour, ass-smacking with a cane, slight cane play, primal play, unprotected rough sex, biting, slight size kink, MaleDom, drug use. Lots of curly hair descriptions.

A/N: Not canon to books Sherlock, obviously, but seeing the photos and teaser Henry as Sherlock just sets up the vibe. So I had to. Many thanks to my beta @agniavateira​ !! Sorry for the ugly cover art :D.

Title: Penny Dreadful

Sherlock’s study was a bleak, musky chamber deprived of heat, notwithstanding the many candles that burnt at every corner. Perhaps it was the pristine heaps of snow that piled on the ledge of the window, or maybe it was his sullen mood that gave the room a sense of icy wilderness. 

Fumes rose from his mouth, vaping into the air. The tawny light kissed his thick mane of luscious, chocolate curls while he stood at the fore of his desk and leered at some parchments that troubled his brilliant mind for whatever reason. 

Fist seizing the golden tip of his cane, his thumb stroked the engravings that embellished the metal. Cases that he couldn’t crack often left him frustrated to the point of madness. Those wicked, sly obsessions made him even more irresistible.  

My nails bit into the wooden doorframe. Consumed by yearning, a blaze licked up my soul with its monstrous tongue. I often wondered how something so pure as love could be dangerous, to which Sherlock would reply, 

“Love is the greatest villain of them all.”

Unlike him, I didn’t care for evil. 

The detective unclipped the small chain he kept fastened to his vest and opened the silver locket, gathering a wisp of white powder on the tip of his pinky finger and pressed it to his nostrils. A small grunt escaped him, his eyes turning glassy. The “fairy dust” tended to sharpen his perception and elevate his stamina.  

I dropped to my knees at his sight, crawling on the floor. The black silks of my dress made a brushing noise as it dragged on the Persian carpet; my breasts peeked as my corset shifted with every move. Sherlock often said we must imagine ourselves as animals once we let desire play our strings. 

Accepting my inner wildness, tonight I was a cougar stalking her prey. 

By nature, his senses were sharp as blades, though the substance that streamed through his veins made a more heightened grip of the reality that surrounded him. He noticed and yet ignored me, letting his hot-blooded harlot crave for his attention.

If I was to be the feline predator, Sherlock was the hunter who pursued me for sport. An unfair game, yet nevertheless my favourite. 

Bathing in my own little fountain of mischief, I allowed my fingers to sneak toward his cane, brushing up and down the mahogany in slow, languid motion. My slender digits licked along the shaft and my bosom followed, pressing against the hardwood. I dragged myself up slightly to glimpse at my master from below: my Sherlock, always a sight for a famished girl; a colossus, intimidating, and breathtaking. Like a moth to a flame, I inched closer dazed by the light, wanting to bask in its radiance. 

The muscle in his cheek tensed, thick brows furrowing. A little squared wrinkle appeared above the bridge of his nose as he brushed through his dark locks with agitation.

“What ills that glorious mind of yours?” I hummed, playful fingertips climbing further up at the length of his cane.

“Something I can’t grasp,” he spat, not giving me the time of day. But I knew he noticed every detail of my wanton behaviour, it was evident by the way his breath swiftly became heavier. Sherlock might have solved crimes by profession, but all women were natural detectives; evolution granted us with a definite survival instinct, learning to read men between the shadows.  

“You can possess me,” I offered, fingers scraping over his thumb as it pressed onto the cane’s golden tip. My voice dropped to a whisper while my hand left the cane in favour of his thigh. The muscle flexed and twitched under my sinful touch, the fabric of his breeches stretched as his cock grew with its natural need to fulfil the wet, convulsing void in me.

“You’re distracting me,” he warned, voice low and stern. His lashes hardly even fluttered to my direction. 

Every delicate little hair stood up at the sound of alarm yet instead, I inhaled the soot of peril, allowing my hand to travel further and meet his hungry girth. It rose to my touch with gratitude, flinching even harder at the clutch of my claws. The flavour of desire was honey and salt on the tip of my tongue.

The low animalistic vibration of his voice wavered through his solid form. I felt it shudder all the way down to his swelling cock. A cautious man, Sherlock was measured and forbearing to a point that made me wonder if he even liked women at all before we fell into the vicious pit of decadence and violent delights. 

It was the contrary that was true: Sherlock loved women very much, his desires were simply… of a certain quality. 

His groin was warm and firm against my cheek. The crystalline-blue glare finally graced me with a sight so brooding my bones clattered.  

“Later, I need to work.” By the drop of his voice, I knew there won’t be a third warning. 

“Later, Later…” I taunted, rolling my chin over his aching need. “All work and no play…”

The gasp that pushed out of my lungs nearly whisked the candles off as Sherlock hauled me up by his hand and bent me over the desk.  

“Should I teach you how to respect my time?” He snarled, throwing the skirts of my dress over my head like a cape of the midnight sky. Stars collapsed under my skin at the sensation of his touch exploring the curve of my bare ass. Talons ruptured the tiny blood vessels, squeezing with the affirmation of his ownership. 

“No undergarments?” Sherlock growled dangerously while his thumb brushed over my silken entrance, toying with the rich elixir and smearing it further down my anticipating petals. I answered with a deep moan, stretching on this desk with a succumbing plea. 

“You came here aimed at disturbing me while I work.”

Settling onto the surface of the desk, I reached forth one arm lazily and chuckled. “You are a great detective, I… oh!” 

Something cold and solid caressed my dripping lips, driving between them in slow, calculated strokes. Throwing my head over my shoulder, I noticed Sherlock holding his cane against my sacred cove, staring at it as if I was yet another piece of evidence to be explored. The golden arched-tip pushed-slightly between my petals and entered just enough to make me hiss. For a mere second I wondered if he was going to fuck me using nothing but his cane.

“Look away; this is going to hurt.” 

I hardly had time to protest when the first smack hit the pillow of my cheek. A wheeze of disgrace shot from my throat, husky and embarrassing, but not as degrading as the sting the metal left at my burning backside.

“Bad girl,” Sherlock ticked his tongue and lifted the cane midway in the air, a flare of noxious desire bursting in his pale-blue orbs. This time I turned away and shut my eyes, gripping the edge of the desk until my knuckles turned dead-white. If only it did anything to dull the pain, the sting was even more prominent, shooting all the way up to my spine where it coiled and forced a strident yip from my clamped lips. 

Yet the throb in my cunt was unmissable.

Sherlock knew very well that the hurt allied with pleasure, enhancing it even, like his powdery magic dust. 

Another smack and my nails scratched at the wood. Like a sinner nun indulging her own beating, I rode the waves of pain as they broke onto shores abundant with pleasure. There were hidden cracks in our public figure, the place where I burnt and Sherlock ascended as we pried our claws into mortal deadly sins. My senses rose to conflict with every smack and Sherlock took joy in every involuntary squirm of my body. 

Tongue pressed between his lips, he hummed as he admired his handiwork, painting my ass in obscene hues of violence. “Had enough? Or want to see which will break first, the rod or your arrogance?” Sherlock chided and pinched my sore cheek to further increase the pain. 

Embers whispered beneath my flesh, my legs jolted from the intense beating and by god, the trickle of my juices rolling down the back of my thighs made even a sultry woman such as myself drown in white shame.

Sherlock’s breath was a heavy guttural waft. His cane dropped to the floor and I heard the sound of metal clicking as he fumbled with his belt. I would be damned if I let him fuck me from behind. To have those eyes look away as he entered me was a vice I wouldn’t stand. 

“No!” I yelled, bracing on my wobbly elbows as much as I could and turned to face him. 

Sherlock’s glare widened, a chill of ice blew through his eyes and his pupils dilated like a crazed feline. “You’re saying no to me?”

“Yes!” I heaved and reached my hands to cradle his skull, pushing myself against the hardness of his body and forcing my lips on his. My kiss was feral, bruising the plush skin on and around his mouth, nibbling and biting until we tasted iron on our tongues. It was not long before I was shoved against the wall, our mouths still united, sharing one breath.

Or rather stealing it from one another.

We were pleasingly unequal. Sherlock was all iron and stone; a bulky, tall man who could tear me apart with his bare hands. I was a little lush thing, so tender, so easily bruised. Despite his power, the desire to claim the tiny wet hole between my legs was unquenchable, reducing him to a savage thing that spoke in raw inarticulate sounds.

He tore his mouth from mine and swept me up from the ground, hiking the skirts of my dress urgently to expose what he coveted the most. I felt the supple velvety texture of his hardness grind against my thigh, smearing the pearly drops of his arousal onto my skin. We both moaned at the sensation and moved to the rhythm dictated by our most primal instincts.  

“You want my cock?” He growled and gnawed his teeth at my neck, biting deep enough to break through the skin. I whined in pain, my voice rising a pitch as I writhed against him to ignite the smallest of frictions and serve the demon of desire in me. 

“Fuck me!” I begged, sliding my fingers through the mass of soft curls and tugging them with need.

Answering my plea, Sherlock speared into my unruly cunt, brutally spreading me open like he would tear the petals from a flower. I yipped into his luscious hair, my nails tearing into his nape as his intrusion claimed everything my body had to offer. I always found it odd how my flesh would resist and beg for him at the same time, my succulent canal fighting to push him by instinct yet he only further rutted into me. He reached his hands to my sore ass to squeeze my cheeks apart.

“Such a tight little harlot,” he groaned, engulfed by my garden of mysteries. Moaning so loudly, our duet reverberated through the corridors of the house. His lashes fluttered with ecstasy as he pulled back only to force me down on his imposing cock, attempting to rip through my denial. Or it was to tame me as I clenched around his girth, accepting and resisting him at the same time. I was nothing but a vessel for him to fill, and he did so with a fiery passion, glaring straight to my eyes while thrusting deep and hard into me.  

Books fell from the shelves nearby as we battled against the wall, my legs sliding up and down his waist, spreading helplessly in the air until my boots pressed into his arse. One of his hands reached for my corset, tugging on the ludicrous outfit to expose my breast. Ravenous, he licked his bloodstained lips, giving me a stare that made my cunt clutch him harder before he sank his fangs to pierce cavities in my tit.

“No!!!” I cried out and gasped as he thrust deeper to punish me for my protest. His heavy cock hit a spot so deep inside me that tears instantly emerged and fell down my cheeks, the pang bringing through a spasm of odd relief. 

Blood and saliva smeared along my cleavage as he dragged his lips further, licking and then kissing every patch he bruised. I moaned breathlessly, throwing my head back against the wall as his nimble fingers surveyed my neck, laying small threats to show me how easy he could simply suspend my very basic need. 

But my survival instincts already flew out the window the moment he penetrated me.

His lips hovered above mine as he fucked deep into my body, our cries creating an obscure symphony as he continuously slammed into my hilt, harder and more urgent with every plunge. The tears that fell down my cheeks were tainted with the conflicting aphrodisiac that pain brought through. In that instant I was whole, gratified by the friction created of the collision of our wet organs.

“Do it!” I gasped and nodded through glossy stares, swallowing hard to gesture what he already knew. With a swift snap of his hands, his fingers were bruising on my neck and he slammed into me at a furious pace, giving no care for my broken screams. 

Euphoria tore through my soul, crashing like hot waves of eternal fire. I came apart around his thick rod crying for God and Satan at once. Sherlock never slowed down, not even as he felt the tightening of my ring around him. It only made him fuck me harder, burying his face at my collarbone, chasing his own rapture at a punishing speed, grunting like a beast. Finally, he shuddered and pumped me full of his thick, silky milk. The muscles of his behind flexed and he ground his hot load into my warm cavern, making sure I received every drop. My hands reached to squeeze his taut ass as my legs clutched him still, wanting to keep him inside me. 

As if he had any intentions of leaving as he moaned and spasmed inside me. 

Smoke filled the room as few of the candles died; the scent of ash and the musk of our sex seeped through our noses while we remained entwined, shaking in each other’s grasp. Breathless and damp with sweat, Sherlock lifted his face from my neck and glanced at me looking so vulnerable, almost appearing lost. I moved my trembling hands back to his face, my thumbs caressing his sharp cheeks. 

“I know I am harsh…” he murmured, his eyes digging into my heart with nothing but a gaze of despair, “but please don’t ever leave me.”

My face fell at the sound of his words, my lips parting with awe. My detective could solve the most outrageous crimes, and yet he couldn’t realise I was shackled to him for all eternity.  

[snarkandsarcasmftw]

Hey if your still doing Fake dating, Slow Burn and Enemies to lovers, can you do MJF, Elias and Velveteen dream

NOTES: I warn in advance, bb. Not the best at writing Velveteen Dream, so. Here goes nothing? I hope you enjoy reading this. It was a bit of a challenge to sort the guys into the categories I felt they’d go best in, there was... Soooo much switching them back and forth but I think I finally got it! Sorry this took so long, like I said. It was hard to write Velveteen and I kept feeling like I was getting it wrong. I’m sorry. I hope you enjoy reading this bc I really enjoyed the challenge of writing it, it was suuuper fun! Thanks for sending me these names!

TAGGING: | @heelsamizayn | @vonschweetz | @rampagewriting | @andie01 | @missjenniferb | @wrestlingismyguiltypleasure | @panic-angel3314 | @glowrioustrash | @heel-rollins | @cowboysht | @adamcolesteeth | @robwiethoff | @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch | @xwicker-manx | @markostuntthesehoes | @the-writing-kitty​ | @wwe-fanfiction-queen | @hardcoresweet45 | @biforbecky2belts | @helluvawriter | @hardcorewwetrash | @calwitch | @xladyxfatex | @writtingrose | @mjfisawhore |  | @sassymox | @scuzmunkie | @schizoauthoress | @demonslunacy | 

PAIRING(S): Velveteen Dream x OFC, Alyssa Rose, Elias x OFC, Scarlett and MJF x OFC, Lex.

WARNINGS: swearing, fluff, maybe a little bit of angst and humor, idk. We’ll see how this goes. Also, my first time even daring attempt Velveteen Dream. It was.. Interesting. And really hard.

                 { fanfiction trope fmk | q&a | multifandom tag list }

FAKE DATING;

DREAM.

“Here’s the thing, Carter. I have zero desire to even give you a backwards glance. I’d honestly rather walk backwards facing God straight into hell.” Alyssa rolled her eyes in boredom and when Ethan stepped closer, Alyssa stepped back, her hand palm down on the center of his chest firmly. “Uh-uh, no you don’t. I’m gonna stop you right there.” Alyssa happened to catch sight of Velveteen Dream walking in and she didn’t think, she ran instead, crashing into the man’s arms, climbing his body like a tree as she clenched his hips with her thighs. He chuckled and nodded towards Ethan almost teasingly. “I knew you couldn’t resist me. Or is it Carter, up to his bullshit again, hm?” Velveteen hummed against Alyssa’s lips as he deepened the kiss, making sure to give Ethan a serious eye full as he stepped so that Alyssa’s back was against the nearest wall and his hands were groping; wandering all over her body. 

He’d had a thing for her for months now, but admitting as such was not his style. So the opportunity presented itself and Velveteen was going to be damned if he didn’t rise to it. “So.. you gonna let me buy you dinner, sugar, or is this just a kiss for show, hm?”

“Oh, you’re buying me dinner, Dream. I don’t just kiss random men for no good reason. The opportunity presented itself, so I went for it.” Alyssa muttered against his mouth, her fingers raising, threading through his hair and over his scalp before coming to rest on the back of his neck. As the kiss broke, Ethan grumbled and walked away, shaking his head and Velveteen rested his forehead against Alyssa’s. “So, you want down, or am I carryin you around all night? Because I’m cool with either.” 

SLOW BURN;

ELIAS.

“ If you don’t say something soon, it’s going to drive you insane. Forget you, it’s going to drive ME insane.” Alexa was pacing the dressing room.

 Scarlett sat on the countertop preparing her own hair and makeup for the night. She paused and glanced over at the slightly shorter female and raised a brow. “Do what, exactly? If he hasn’t noticed that I flirt with him almost as much as I breathe oxygen since we were roommates in college, Bliss, what really makes you think he’s suddenly going to notice now, huh?” 

“I don’t know! Just.. Something. Because the sexual tension between you two is driving all of the rest of us crazy. You’re always whispering and touching and he even lets you wear his scarves. He sang you a song, Scarlett, how the hell you can even sit here and say he’s not into you right back is beyond me.” Alexa was exploding enough for them both and it amused Scarlett. “Okay, maybe he does flirt back. And maybe I’m a little scared because if this goes wrong, I lose my best friend.” Scarlett pursed burgundy lips as she gazed at the monitor, letting her fingertips linger on the screen. 

Alexa’s rant had taken over and it wouldn’t leave her alone. And tonight was Valentines... The wheels in the brunette’s mind were turning and she smirked to herself, hopping down from the countertop. If he didn’t notice subtleties, Scarlett thought to herself, maybe he’ll notice something big and bold. Or this could backfire and things will be really, really awkward at the hotel tonight. Either way, it’s time. This needs to come out. 

Bearing the thought in mind, she slunk towards the gorilla, cueing up her music. Down in the ring, Elias’s brow raised. He’d been interrupted by pretty much anyone in back with a pulse.. But never Scarlett. He swallowed hard, eyes fixed on her like magnets and filled with desire he only wished she’d wake up and actually notice for once. He started to go on with his song, thinking that maybe she’d just come out to sit at ringside for his match. But then, she didn’t skip past the ring and take a seat. Instead, she slipped between the ropes, walking towards him slowly, her eyes filled with determination. Elias chuckled. “At least tonight I got a welcome guest, huh guys?” he teased, his eyes locking on hers as he mouthed to her , “What’s going on?” and she just bit her lip, stopping right in front of him. Scarlett took a deep breath. What she was about to do was huge and if Elias took it the wrong way.. Not only would she be in trouble with the higher ups for breaking script to do it, but she might also be losing her best friend too. 

“Here goes nothin.” Scarlett lowered herself to sit in Elias’ lap as soon as he’d sat his trusty guitar on the mat, propped against his stool. She took his face in her hands and tugged it closer. “Scarlett?” Elias’ eyes opened wider and he took a shaky breath. “You feelin alright, princess?” 

“Never better, Elias. Are you gonna let me do what I came out to do?” Scarlett practically purred against the corner of his mouth as her lip caught it. His hands wandered down, squeezing at her sides, hauling her completely into his lap as his forehead rested against hers and he sighed, the weight of holding it all at bay lifted and making him feel bolder and much more free to do what he’d been dying to since they met as teenagers. “So do it, princess.” his teeth caught on her glossy lower lip and tugged and she whimpered as he continued, “Or better yet, allow me.” his tongue trailing the shape of her lips before slipping past the soft barrier of flesh and tangling with her tongue, deepening the kiss to a point where he could tell she was starting to get dizzy, her legs were digging into his hips and everything around them just kind of fell away. “So.. Happy Valentines Day, I guess?” she giggled as the kiss broke and Elias chuckled. “Only if you’re trying to say you want to be my Valentine, princess.” 

“I thought me coming down here in front of the entire fucking free world kind of said that?” Scarlett teased, walking her fingers up and down his bare chest, catching them in the silky scarves adorning his neck as she used them to pull him in for yet another kiss. “Ya know.. we’re probably in serious trouble for this, right?” he hummed against her mouth as she shrugged it off. “I honestly don’t have a single fuck left to give. Maybe they’ll finally let me be your valet instead of sticking me with Orton’s disgusting ass.” 

“Oh, they better.” 

ENEMIES TO LOVERS;

FRIEDMANN.

“ No. No, no, no.” the elevator came to a shaky stop and Lex crossed her arms, stomping her foot as she glared at MJF, the full of himself wrestler she currently found herself in an angle with. He’d been flirting for weeks and she’d been putting him off as best as possible. Being a smartass with a sharp tongue had it’s benefits. She’d gotten it to a point where he pretty well left her to her own devices until it was time for them to do a scene together.

“My thoughts exactly.” Maxwell shuffled his feet, grumbling about being stuck in the elevator with Lex, his valet. The woman couldn’t hate him less if she tried. Which kind of sucks, he found himself thinking, because I can’t get her out of my fucking head.

“Oh, you can do that? Think, I meant.. I thought shallow and rich prettyboys didn’t have the capacity required.”  the jab was out before she could stop it. When he didn’t respond, she gazed at him, biting her lip.

“Can you just maybe shut the fuck up while I try to page someone? Or is that beyond your capacity, Alexandra?”

“It’s Lex, jackass. Lex.”

MJF shrugged, ignoring her as he turned his attention to the elevator control panel. Lex was staring at him and he kept waiting for an explosion, holy hell she was so good at those, he thought to himself, but to his surprise, minutes passed without her saying a word. When he bothered to turn around and he found her sitting on the floor with her back firmly against the wall and her head between her knees, it hit him exactly why she wasn’t saying anything. And he eyed her, a brow raised in concern. Grumbling at himself for not being able to just leave her alone, he sat down beside her.

“Hey..”

“I.. hate small spaces and I’m kind of panicking. Not now.” Lex’s tone was more of a pleading whimper than anything and she wasn’t looking up. It was freaking him out a little if the truth had to be told. He tapped her shoulder gingerly, swearing at himself. The best thing to do was just to leave her alone.

But he knew how claustrophobia worked and he knew that right now, she was probably experiencing some pretty scary physical manifestations of her fear and that was throwing her into a panic attack, which was most likely worsening those physical manifestations. He had to do something.

Lex finally got herself together at least enough to look up to see why he’d tapped her. “I can’t get anyone down in the lobby. If you’ll move forward a little..” MJF suggested it clumsily and the tone caught her off guard. She eyed him and he nodded to the spot between his legs firmly. “I’m afraid of small spaces, that is.. literally the last thing I need.” Lex choked out the words, not seeing how his suggestion would help her relax at all. He grumbled and moved, sliding into place behind her, his arms going around her, his lips right next to her ear. “Breathe in.. Slow.. Breathe out. Close your eyes..”

Lex did as he told her and took a few shaky breaths, her eyes fluttering shut. MJF continued, large rough hands moving carefully and almost gently over her arms. She’d rather die than admit it, but she was calming down just a shade. And the scent of his cologne was relaxing.. The firmness of his body wrapped around her and the warmth of his breath against her ear as he spoke to her in quiet whispers.

“W-why are you being so nice?” she managed to gasp out as he muttered quietly, “Because despite everything, I do care. A lot more than you realize. And you’re kind of freaking me out right now, woman.” He nipped at her earlobe unintentionally and she shivered a little, pressing her back against his chest. “Keep breathing in and out. Focus on something that keeps you calm.”

The only thing she could focus on, was him. And it hit her then, no matter how much she pretended otherwise, the things she felt for him were overwhelming and getting entirely too hard to fight off. She’d been fighting so hard because she thought he was only after a quick lay. Or something else. But the way he was being right now was.. Throwing her totally off guard. “Okay, just.. Please don’t let me go. This is..” she breathed and her lips brushed against the side of his neck as her head rested against his shoulder, “It’s keeping me calm..”

“Good, that’s good. I’m gonna try to page someone again, okay? We’ll get you out of here, if I have to rip the fucking doors open and risk climbing.” 

“It’s not that serious. I’m just overreacting.”

“No, no princess. You’re not. It’s a pretty freaky situation. I’m not especially fond of small spaces myself.” MJF muttered against her hair, continuing to move his hands over her upper arms and daring to move them lower, down to ghost over her sides. The elevator started off with a loud creak and a shaky takeoff and rather than spring away like he figured she would, she turned around instead, taking his face in her hands, pulling him into a biting and bruising kiss that he only deepened, his hands groping and ghosting over her body as he lowered his knees and pulled her onto his lap, rubbing himself against her. “Fuck. You’re gonna drive me insane, woman.”

“I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but same.” she mumbled quietly, her breaths coming in short pants as she pressed herself down against him hard, rubbing her body against his. The elevator slid open and the two were so involved in their own little world that they didn’t realize that a group of hotel guests were getting quite the eye full until someone cleared their throat. He stood and so did she, both of them trying to fix themselves, smoothing down their clothes and hurrying off the elevator. About halfway down the hall, MJF caught up to her, shoving her against a wall, pinning her against with his hips. “Where were we, hmm?”

Her hand trailed lazily down his chest, tugging in the waistband of his jeans. “We were right about here.” 

[lesbiansastiel]

i asked my gf who’s never watched spn to tell me what these pictures of spn characters make them think:

he has very bad promo pictures

ofc its sam! .. is that sam?

your favourite, theres at least 8000 lgbt headcanons for him

he definitely peels apples before eating them

no idea

he looks like hes in a cereal commercial

propably plays fortnite???

oh my god what the fuck

his parents needed money so he was forced to do promo pics for a school and if u uncrop this picture hes holding a backpack and a book that says like. ABC

haircut is making me think thats young sam but im not sure

me: that is young sam

ok cool!

thats a homophobe. i know a homophobe when i see one

me: the actor is

i know that thats dean, leather jacket looks smelly

i dont like or trust him bc his voice is too low, no offense

but he was funny in that episode when they thought they were... when they were the actors, i like that they shamed the actors (jensen ankles?) trailer

i always assume hes dead, every time i see him im like oh fuck hes not dead yet????

he looks like he dies first in a zombie game protecting the protagonists daughter

opens beer cans with knives (stabbing them from above)

has touristy fridge magnets

hillbilly neighbour that just stuck around

later: OH HIS NAME IS bobby

um........ lost journalist from a chick-flick

looks too enthusiastic to be in this show

name starts w an R and dies dramatically and causes trauma for multiple people?

me: its charlie

oh....

me: do you know who that is?

shes the one that causes angst in ur fanfic? someone’s ex? writes paranormal articles- like someone who works in a pokemon centre and takes care of the reporting to the media i know this is not true but that’s how it should be based on characted design

why.. what is that shirt

she looks like she’s from twin peaks but like a weird 90s techno nostalgia version

probably not real, but someones hallucination, like a little sister that someone lost and then hallucinates coming back?????

me: that’s jess.. from my fic

oh no im so sorry, i thought that the previous one was that one

then thats like a college person who sam did like drugs and beer with and they were happy and then she died.. tragic :(

umm öööööö, uhhhh

kinda looks like a serial killer, like a bad one who hasnt killed anyone in years so his face is tired. he wants flesh

um,i say um to everyone im so sorry

he has a conflicted expression

i think he’s sassy or just tired of everyone

no idea who that is.. i just feel sorry for this character idk why

*laughs*

a 12-year-old who got a toy gun for christmas bc hes american

hes gay probably and pretending to like guns so his dad doesnt get disappointed

for real, in this show, a young new hunter and messes up and then does one heroic thing and dies immediately after?

this looks like the perfect love interest who dies dramatically and is relationship with an important man character whose controlling when she wants to be independent and doesnt want to hide in a basement like the man wants her to

me: ??????????????????

she also looks like a cop like every woman in this show somehow but her character design is too soft to be a tv cop woman lady

2009 hair

probably a cop?

is styled in a way that always looks way too make-uppy and probably wears heels to work bc this is a bad character design show

me: shes not a human i can say that much

then shes a demon bc thats what all the women are in this show, theyre all demons

i hope shes not evil, this might be trap she looks friendly but that isnt the truth

this looks like a slightly messy and like, bohemic twin of the reporter that works in a pokemon centre

is probably rich

lots of anger that is not showcased in this picture

clenched fists

all in all, suspicious

probably supposed to be related since theyre in the same picture and different ages but they dont look related at all

they look like they’re from teen wolf

and probably would star in a scene where they see that someone has key’ed their car and theyre like fuuuuck

i think this character is supposed to be a cool friend woman whose not supposed to be super feminine and love-interesty bc shes wearing plaid and drinkin beer but they Failed

probably a werewolf

also is she wearing nothing under that plaid what is this...

me: oh fuck why is this picture so HQ compared to the rest...

it’s bc he’s an angel

obscene amount of powers that seem useless bc if he actually had Power they wouldnt need this show and he could just figure everything out

i know that people wear those annoying pins that say theyre waiting for an angel in trench coat. but i dont think he’s ever going to come :(

i think his name is castiel and mishaapocalypse happened w his face

and i saw his face taped to a mcdonald door in a small town in finland

yet another teen wolf character

looks like a suspicious teenager who lives in a town where they (the brothers) stop to get gas and he’s hanging out at the gas station

hes like heyyy youre not like other people here are you perhaps... hunters bc my mom died and now my house is haunted

daddy issues

me: correct

um. another beer lady. probably, people have decided, a lesbian

looks like a stock photo of someone eating salad at a rural setting after a hard day at work milking cows

also somehow looks like works in a lab

is related to the weird open-flannel-no-t-shirt woman (the beer one), probably her mom

thats all

um. major demon

probably has a scene where she tries to kill someone with a knife seductively

hated in the fandom and in fanfic someone who tries to steal deans man (which is stupid bc deans a homophobe anywaY)

also looks like fantasy show self-insert but evil

me: i think that’s a teenager

welcome to my twisted mind

im sorry...

happy

which is making me think that he probably dies, sadly.

probably takes care of an older family member

has some demon problems

that’s all

post-apocalyptic show character where theyre trying to have something else than 40yo white hilbilly men bc thats not media sexy

i hope that she doesnt die but probably does bc shes not a major character

me: can i reveal something i know

yes please

me: her and the blonde that you called demon had a thing canonically

cool!!!!

probably lives in a ranch that has no electricity due to demon problems

me: :D

and still does her hair somehow

uuummmm this looks like someone’s weird flashback version that is supposed to look like a teenager but actually looks older

me: uhh this is a bad picture let me find a bettter one

me: there we go

looks like this character needs a cowboy hat

probably writes dean’s name in her diary??

COMPHET

thats all

[preface2adreamplay]

Under Your Spell (Chapter 16) - So When You Come

Summary: A Jared Padalecki/OFC/Oscar Isaac fiction.

Stef is a musician, recently gone solo. Happy with her life as a forever single person until Jared makes it his mission to get close to her. Her ex, Oscar isn’t sure what to make of her new relationship. Should he step in or leave her be?

(For the purpose of this fiction, I have liberated some lyrics from various artists and their videos. This is fiction, with real people mentioned.) Married Jared, Single Oscar! Single Richard!

Chapter warnings: Cursing, smut!

Chapter WC: 2,625

I hold your hand so hard my knuckles turn white

Richard pulled Stef into a bear hug, managing to lift her off her feet. ‘So good to see you, honey.’ He made a show of spitting out her hair as her long locks fell across his face, making them both laugh.

‘Good to see you too.’ Stef was nervous. Hella nervous. This would be the first time she would be with Jared at work, she was eager to see the set and all of the crew, appreciating this was absolutely huge in comparison to the small sets she had been on.

‘Let me show you around!’ Richard walked arm in arm with Claire ahead of Stef, pointing out different people he knew, waving and giving thumbs up periodically. 

‘And here’s the trailers...’ Richard turned and winked at Stef. 

Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her jacket, she wasn’t sure what to do, her stomach was doing somersaults, even her palms were a little sweaty. Jared sleeps here? She tilted her head to the side, stopping at an open door, there was movement inside. Jensen came rushing out the door, arms out. ‘Ladies, how are we?’ He gave each of them a hug, squeezing Stef a little harder than she expected. ‘Jared’s inside,’ he whispered, his mouth at her ear. Some crew members were still bustling around them. 

Her legs felt like jelly, did he not want to come out and say hi?

‘Of course you can use the bathroom, go right ahead,’ Jensen placed a hand on her lower back and guided her toward the door of the trailer. 

The room didn’t have any lights on, the only illumination was through the slats on the window blinds. Stef felt a pair of arms snaking around her waist, Jared’s body pressing against her. The heat from him and the sheer size of him had her humming in pleasure. ‘Hey, pretty girl,’ his lips nipped at her ear, causing a shiver to run up her spine, her reflexes pulled her shoulder toward her ear, trapping his face against hers.

‘You good?’ 

‘That was a nice trick, getting Jensen to cover for you.’

She felt him shrug, he was rocking gently from side to side, moving her with him. Staying like that for a few short moments before he spun her around. Now face to face, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

‘Jensen and Rich are gonna show you around set.’

Stef frowned, ‘you not coming?’

‘Nah, I gotta do some stuff for the next couple of hours. But I’ll see you tonight, for dinner.’ Jared cupped her chin and smiled softly. his eyes glazed over as he swayed with her. 

‘What are we having for dinner?’ 

‘Not each other.’ Jared smiled, poking his tongue between his teeth. ‘That’s for dessert.’ 

Stef dropped her hands into the back pockets of his jeans grabbing a handful of his ass. 

‘Promise?’

‘Absolutely.’ 

Their lips were on each other again, not pulling away for several moments. The heat of the kiss left her wanting more, but the sound of Jensen clearing his throat at the door told them their time was up.

‘Go enjoy the tour, I’ll see you later,’ Jared ran a finger along her cheek. She gave him a half smile in reply. 

‘Later,’ looking at him over her shoulder as Jensen set off toward Richard and Claire, who had decided to sneak off to a dark corner themselves.

***

At the long table at the restaurant Richard had booked, Stef was sitting directly across from Jared. The drink was flowing, the conversation was great and the food was seriously good. Stef had a belly full of so much pasta, she figured she wouldn’t have to eat again for another few days. 

Halfway through the dessert, Stef slipped her foot out of her shoe and teased along the inside of Jared’s leg. He cleared his throat noisily at the initial touch, allowing his lips to curl upwards but didn’t look at Stef. Leaning his elbows on the table, he took a long gulp of beer, closing his eyes as her foot ran higher, past his knee. Stef could feel the heat of him, it was warm in the restaurant but boy did that man radiate heat. After a moment of delicate nudges with her toes, Jared reached under the table, while talking to Jensen next to him, he grabbed a hold of Stef’s foot. Rubbing the pad of his thumb across he arch, knowing she was ticklish. Instantly regretting the idea of teasing him under the table, she tried to tug her foot away but Jared held fast. No one else at the table seemed to notice. Claire was laughing and playfully slapping Richard’s arm, he was thoroughly wrapped up in her. Jensen and Jared were talking about a scene they had done earlier. It was when her eyes got to Misha that her heart skipped a beat. He was sitting there, regarding her with a slight smile, knowing full well what she was up to. Feeling his eyes on her, she felt like a naughty schoolgirl who was about to be scolded. The flush in her cheeks couldn’t be blamed on the wine. Misha blinked slowly, still looking at her, as if he was telling her to continue, he was enjoying the show. 

Get it together, Stef told herself, trying again to pull her foot away. 

Misha leaned toward her, his eyes roaming down to her cleavage and down toward the drink that sat in front of him. He took a quick gulp of beer, his eyes back to hers. 

A new wave of arousal hit her, unconsciously handing it the reigns. Her foot pressed against Jared’s crotch. HIs face gave nothing away, but he released the hold he had on her foot, instead tracing his long fingers along the sensitive skin around her ankle. 

This was too much, her senses were struggling to take back control. If she were laying on a bed, with her foot in Jared’s crotch and Misha gazing into her like he was now, there would be nothing anyone could do for her, she would be lost in them. She would have been desperately at their mercy. 

Stef looked down at Misha’s hands, he had them laying flat on the table. No one else seemed to have notice the exchange between them. She began to wonder what those hands would be like on her skin. Goosebumps raising on the exposed flesh of her arms. Stef bit her lip, telling herself to calm down. Misha was grinning now. Did he know what he was doing to her?

Was he going to say something? 

Stef swallowed, gaining some degree of control back. Jared was still rubbing her ankle and she had to admit, the sensation was lovely. 

What would happen if she put her other foot against Misha’s knee?

Don’t, she told herself. Don’t do that. 

Stef couldn’t help it, she pushed the other shoe away and raised her leg toward Misha. It was as if he was waiting for it, his warm hand met her cool skin and she shivered. 

He was tracing patterns across her foot now too, never taking his eyes from her face. Misha had noticed how she bit her lip a lot when she felt awkward and damn it was hot, he felt a little riled up. 

‘Stef?’ A voice moved through the air, all faces turned to look at her. 

‘Are you ok?’ Claire narrowed her eyes.

‘Yes, why?’ Stef squeaked. 

‘You’re making some strange noises over there.’

‘Am I?’ Oh no! 

Jared’s shoulders were shaking with laughter, ‘the dessert is really good, huh?’ 

Everyone laughed with him and carried on their conversation. Stef threw a morsel of chocolate cake into her mouth, wishing she could hide under the table. But no, each foot was still between the legs of two handsome men sitting across from her.

Misha let go, bringing both hands in front of him to grab Stef’s plate.

‘I’m definitely having what she’s having.’ His face breaking out into a handsome smile. 

Thank you, she mouthed.

No, thank you, he mouthed back, pointing at her. 

***

‘You were being a dirty girl at dinner, I feel like I should punish you. Someone could have seen what you were doing.’

They had just closed the door of the trailer when his voice changed, dropping to almost a rumble. 

Stef felt her cunt clench around nothing, that voice was doing things to her she couldn’t explain. She was already dripping wet. 

He moved behind her, pushing her over the arm of the sofa. ‘I’m thinking, maybe a spanking might set you right.’ 

Stef groaned, feeling her jeans being pushed down past her knees, his hands rough. Without warning, there was a harsh crack and a sting. Her thoughts were racing a mile a minute, she wanted this. It felt so good.

Another slap. Jared kept his hand over the mark on her ass. ‘Are you sorry?’ His breathing ragged, reaching down to grab her hair in his fist he pulled her head back. ‘Huh?’ He spanked her, harder this time. The next was harder again. 

Stef cried out. ‘Fuck, Jared.’

‘That’s not an answer.’ Jared hit her again.

Her legs were giving out, she couldn’t hold herself up any longer.

‘I’m not sorry,’ Stef breathed, smiling back at him. 

Jared plunged his tongue into her mouth, groaning into her. 

‘You’re a brat.’ He placed another slap across her already red skin, lighter this time. ‘Get on your knees. I’ll make you sorry.’

He hit the back of her throat over and over, Stef gasped for breath each time he pulled out of her throat. 

‘You ok?’ Jared looked down at her, mouth open, tongue out, licking the underside of his cock. She answered by taking the pink head and giving it a suck before letting it pop out of her mouth. 

Jared twisted his mouth into a smile and pushed into her again. Grabbing her chin with one hand, the other in her hair, guiding her head back and forth.

He could have come twice already but he was holding off, he wanted to see her gag on him, tears leaking from the side of her eyes. 

‘You look hot, choking on me like that.’

Stef giggled around him. ‘But we better stop because I have plenty more I wanna do to you.’ 

‘Like what?’ Stef took hold of his hands as he pulled her to her feet. ‘Get your ass into the shower and I’ll show you.’

Stef was standing under a pathetic excuse of a shower, the hot water barely a dribble. ‘Jared, your shower sucks.’ 

‘Turn the knob,’ he shouted through the door.

Stef fiddled with a few of the handles and a whoosh of water hit her. She cried aloud with the shock of the freezing water hitting her.

Jared laughed, leaning into the shower to turn up the heat. ‘I like cold showers.’ 

Stef was covered in goosebumps, shivering while she lathered herself up.

Jared stepped in behind her, large hands helping to spread the soap across her back. 

‘This is nice,’ she hummed, leaning back against him. 

‘Everything is always nice with you.’ He placed a kiss against her neck, licking the skin behind her ear. 

Pressing his hard cock against her lower back, he brought one of her hands behind her. Stef began pumping him, the warm skin soft beneath her touch. 

‘You’re fuckin’ huge, anyone ever tell you that?’

Jared hummed happily. ‘You’ve been taking it real good.’

‘I’d love to feel it inside me again.’

With a long inhale, Jared placed his fingers around her throat, gently tightening his fingers around her. 

‘You will,’ he breathed. 

Stef’s groan was cut off as Jared tightened his fingers around her throat, cutting off the flow of air. Her hand, in turn, began to tug him harder. His own groans filling the bathroom.

Dragging his other hand across her stomach, he curled two fingers around her clit and pushed them past her folds. Hot and wet and ready for him. ‘You like it?’ You like me fucking you with my fingers?’

Stef could only answer with a pitiful moan. 

‘Shall I add another?’ Jared didn’t wait for a response, the pushed a third finger inside her. Stef’s legs were faltering. 

‘Fuck, fuck fuck.’ 

‘You’re gonna cum, aren’t you? Gonna cum on my fingers?’

Stef could feel his cock twitching against her back. 

When she tried to speak it was incoherent nonsense, but managed to gasp out a yes. 

Jared loosened his grip on her, allowing her to fall forward against the bathroom tiles, his fingers sliding out of her sopping folds with a squelch she would have been embarrassed about if she didn’t feel so damn frustrated.

‘What are you doing?’ Stef turned to look at him. He was licking his fingers, a smug look on his face. 

‘Why didn’t you ....’ Jared cut her off with a searing kiss, rubbing his cock along her ass. 

‘Bend over.’ 

Stef did as she was told, the water running a little colder against her now. 

Jared grabbed a nipple between his fingers, tugging on it harshly. Stef bit her lip to conceal her moan. ‘Don’t stop doing that.’ 

Placing a large hand on her back, he pushed her over a little more so she was on show for him. ‘You look fucking perfect, baby. I can see how wet you are for me.’

‘I want you, please, fuck me.’

Jared grabbed his cock in his hand and began pumping furiously, his thumb running across the lips of her pussy, taking her slick and rubbing it up onto the tight ring of her asshole. 

Stef begged a little more for him to be inside her, but he was entranced by her standing still in front of him. 

After a moment of him groaning, pawing at her with his free hand, she felt the hot ropes of cum hitting her ass. 

‘Oh, Stef.’ he breathed, shaking his head, trying to clear the fuzziness. Grabbing her hips to steady himself. 

Stef scrunched up her face, what was he doing to her? This was college boy crap. She wanted to get off. Standing to her full height, she turned to look up at him, he had a grin on his stupid handsome face. 

‘You’ll get yours baby. But, it’ll be when I say.’ 

He was rinsing her off while she stood there, cold and wet and frustrated.

‘Come on, let’s have some fun.’ Jared threw her over his shoulder and made his way into the bedroom, not allowing her to dry off. 

Giggling as she bounced on the bed. Jared pushed her down and pinned her to the bed. 

‘Mind if I try something?’ He nudge her nose with his, running his fingers over her stiff nipples.

‘Will I enjoy it?’

‘I think you will.’ Jared kissed her between laughing, ‘you get wiggly when you’re annoyed. It’s pretty damn cute.’

Stef stopped mooching underneath him. ‘Well, I’m frustrated.’

‘Yeah, that’s part of the game. Baby you’ll enjoy this part, I promise.’

‘Ok then,’ she muttered, ‘What part of the game is this?’

Jared got up from the bed, moving toward the pile of clothes he had left on the floor, Stef enjoying the view of his ass. Licking her lips at the sight of him releasing a belt from the loops of his jeans. With the slight creak of the leather as he wrapped it around one fist, had her rubbing her legs together. 

‘Fuck yes.’ She said as he lunged at her. 

When you clear the streets and kill the lights

[rebelminxy]

Too Bright to See, Too Loud to Hear (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Dina (OFC)

Word Count: 2940

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None

Square Filled: Inias

A/N: This series is meant for my squares for @heavenandhellbingo​. I have been putting my all into it and I hope you will enjoy it as much as I have been writing it. Please like, repost and comment on anything you would like to say about it and seriously hope you have a great time reading this. Ratings will depend on what is in each chapter so please read the warnings before continuing. Images are not mine, they were found on Google and Pinterest.

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It was the day after the wedding and Sam was outside sparring with Dean in the early morning.

“So, assuming you are out here this early means you and the wife didn’t enjoy each other's company last night,” Dean teased with a huff as their swords crossed.

“You know we aren’t sharing a bed,” Sam bit back as he dodged his brother’s swing.

“Well, if you don’t end up doing your husbandly duties, I wouldn't mind taking that job off your hands,” Dean chuckled as he blocked Sam’s attack, receiving a kick in the stomach.

“That is my wife you’re talking about,” Sam said with a smile as he watched his brother roll on the ground in pain.

“Damn, any lower and you would put me out of commission with the ladies of the court.”

“Then don’t toy with the idea of warming your bed with my wife,” Sam chuckled as he helped his brother up. “I thought about what you and Ellen said yesterday, and with time, I may be able to live a civil life with Dina, maybe decide when we will keep each other company when it's time for an heir.”

“Brother, I can only hope that you one day give me a niece or nephew to spoil with riches.”

The brothers laughed as they put their swords away, heading up to the castle for breakfast. Once they were close, they noticed Castiel standing by the portal’s entrance, as if he was waiting for something.

“What’s the angel doing?” Dean asked curiously.

“Not sure. Let’s go find out.”

As the brothers ran towards Castiel, the light of the portal opening shined brightly. Sam and Dean halted, covering their eyes from the brightness. As they watched with their eyes shielded, they saw a group of men and women exit the portal, all dressed in white like the guards from yesterday, but their armor had gold patterns decorating it. The group came through with two chests being held by four members each. Once they were all through, the portal closed off, the bright light disappearing. It was a group of about 14 angels, one standing at the very front. The man got down onto one knee and bowed before Castiel. 

As Sam and Dean got closer, they overheard the kneeling angel speak to Castiel.

“Prince Castiel, we have arrived with everything you have asked for. Lady Anna has sent her blessings to Princess Dina and her regards to you since the King has assigned her over to a new garrison.”

“My father did not tell me of Anna reassignment,” Castiel stated, his eyes narrowing.

“The order was sent out today before our departure by High Prince Michael himself.”

The brothers watched as Castiel rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“What about the other garrisons promised to come to help us?”

“High Prince Michael told us they will be joining once the humans are ready to fight.”

“Well, then, we will make do with what we have. We have little time and an army of humans to train on how to use these weapons and kill demons.”

“We know how to kill demons, we just need your help and weapons to make things easier,” Dean interrupted, standing tall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Everyone, this is Prince Dean Winchester. He also is the commander of this army we will be assisting.”

At that moment, all the angels stood at attention, saluting Dean in respect. Dean saluted back and gave them the signal to ease. He walked up to Castiel and they stared at each other, the air filled with dominance.

“My men know how to deal with demons, we have been fighting them for years. It was your father who came up with the idea of helping us to end this godforsaken war.”

“And how many men have you lost throughout this war?” Castiel pushed back. “With us and our weapons, lives won’t be lost.”

“And you think you and your 14 here will train a bunch of men that only know bloodshed?”

“I think, if you two play fair, angels and humans can unite to end this once and for all.”

Everyone turned to see Dina standing there with a bright smile on her face. Sam looked her up and down, confused in her attire. She was wearing a white male shirt tucked inside a pair of pants that fit her perfectly, showing off the shape Sam suspected was under the dress from yesterday. She wore a pair of worn off boots and her long hair was tied back, exposing her beauty even more.

“Dina, I told you to leave those clothes behind,” Castiel complained as he walked over to his sister.

“They are comfortable and perfect for training,” she replied back. 

Dina then looked over to the group of angels and her eyes went wide with joy, bursting into a run as the man that Castiel spoke to got up from his kneeling position.

“Inias!” Dina exclaimed, throwing her arms around the man as he lifted her into his arms.

Sam watched as they laughed, the man turning in circles with her in his arms. Dean raised an eyebrow at the show of affection from Dina as Castiel joined the group again. Once the angel called Inias let Dina go, he grabbed her hands and kissed each of them. That’s when Sam grabbed Dina by the arm and pulled her away.

“What is your problem?!” Dina exclaimed, looking up at Sam in anger.

“You are a married woman now, and the only man that can touch you in such a way is your husband.”

“Forgive me, Prince Samuel,” Inias begged. “I am at fault for doing so. You see, Dina and I are very good friends and well, we have never had reasons to hide our affections towards each other.”

“Not helping,” Dean muttered.

“What he means,” Dina insisted. “Inias and I are only good friends. He and I have never seen each other more than that and never will. Inias is the only one outside my circle of brothers, that I feel comfortable having any sibling affection with.”

Sam looked between Dina and Inias before letting her arm go.

“Just make sure my father doesn’t see you two, or he will think up things.”

Dina smiled up at Sam, her eyes glowing a bit. Sam nodded his head to her and looked up at Dean.

“If we are going to end this war, we need to set aside our differences. Angels have watched us from above, as we have been surviving here below. As of right now, there is no difference between angels and humans, we are men and women trying to do what's best for our empires. So, Dean and Castiel, find a way to work together and soon. Because you and your garrison will be marked today just like Dina was for your protection.”

The angels looked at Castiel with confusion, Inias looking at Dina.

“Marked?” he asked cautiously.

“It’s only a seal to make sure no demon would possess our body. Isn’t much,” she clarified as she pulled down the edge of her shirt, showing the seal on her skin. 

Sam was quick to lift her shirt up and pull her away towards the castle, leaving everyone else to their deals. He guided her all the way to the seamstress hall, receiving a few complaints from Dina. Once they reached the seamstress, Sam spoke to her about arranging a few shirts for Dina that fit her much better than the loose, almost exposing everything shirt she was currently wearing.

“My shirt is fine, no one cared in Heaven,” Dina complained.

“Well, here on Earth, exposing yourself is frowned upon,” Sam answered back.

The seamstress had Dina behind a curtain for measurements while they talked, Sam sitting right in front of the curtain with his back turned to avoid seeing anything. The seamstress had just exited from behind the curtain with Dina’s shirt when Dina spoke up.

“What about the dancers and whores? They expose themselves to everyone?”

Sam shot up to give Dina a glare but regretted it immediately. Dina stood there bare naked, pants a pile on the floor. She was examining her mark in the mirror before her, not knowing Sam was looking at her exposed flesh. Before she could notice, Sam shot back down onto his seat, his face feeling very hot at that moment.

“It’s their job to show their bodies to others.” he stuttered, wishing he could get rid of the image he currently had in his head. “But they aren’t looked up as a profession to follow. And as a princess, you shouldn’t behave like them anyway.”

“Well, I see nothing wrong with someone exposing themselves, voluntarily or by accident.”

“It’s not proper,” Sam fought back.

“Humans have so many rules,” Dina said.

But her voice was closer than before. It caused Sam to turn around to find Dina standing next to him naked as if it were something normal. Sam quickly grabbed the curtain and wrapped her in it, keeping his eyes anywhere else but the woman in front of him. 

“Seriously, have you no respect for yourself?!”

“Why are you behaving in such a way? You will see my body when it is time to produce an heir?”

“Then we will deal with it at that time. But right now this isn’t decent!”

Sam grunted in complaint as he stalked off, leaving Dina wrapped up in the curtain. He told the seamstress to make sure Dina stayed put for her fittings and new clothes as he left the hall. He reached the kitchen and took a goblet and some ale, swallowing down the ale he poured himself. He shook his head as he tried to get the image of Dina’s beautiful body out of his mind. He thought of Jessica, how her body looked under candlelight. And then he realized that was the wrong choice since now he was having trouble down below.

He left to his room, finding the bath he had asked for before he left to train with his brother. The water was cold, but it was what he needed at that moment. Stripping down bare, he jumped into the cold tub, the chilly waters ending his troubles very quickly. 

“That woman will be the death of me,” he muttered to himself as his teeth chattered.

A week had passed since Dina’s indecent exposure to Sam and he had been avoiding her at all costs. When he told his brother about what happened, all Dean did was laugh at him, poking fun at the fact that he ran when his own wife bared herself to him. Castiel and the rest of his garrison had grown to work well beside Dean, helping each other are the angels taught the humans about the new weapons. Sam was with Dean as Castiel watched over Dean's men, when Inias came out of the castle, Dina right beside him. Sam watched as they both joined Castiel, talking to him in whispers before Castiel yelled out no.

“What’s going on here?” Sam asked as he made his way towards the trio.

“My sister here is asking for my permission to let Inias train her in defenses.”

“Shouldn’t she be asking me?” Sam insisted, raising an eyebrow.

“Inias is my brother’s second in command, it was only right to ask him,” Dina said matter of factly.

“But I am your husband, remember the customs and rules we have here?”

“Fine,” Dina replied with a roll of her eyes. “Will you allow Inias to train me in defensive tactics?”

“No.”

Dina was about to complain when Sam stopped her.

“I would rather my brother and I train you since Inias has to keep his focus on training the army alongside your brother. It’s only fitting.”

“Wait, so you will let me train as long as it’s with you and Dean?” she asked, her eyes lighting up.

“Yes, since Dean is free right now, we can go over to the side of the castle and teach you the basics.”

Dina jumped for joy, wrapping her arms around Sam in a hug. She thanked him and let him go, running towards Dean with the news. Sam smiled softly seeing her excitement, reminding him of Jessica. He pulled out his sword, forgetting that the angel blade Dina had given his was on his hip. But Inias saw the blade, his eyes growing wide in shock.

“How did you get a hold of that blade?’ he asked Sam.

Sam looked at Inias with confusion, looking to his side to see the blade there. Before he could say another word. Inias stormed over to Dina and grabbed her by the arm. Dean was about to jump on the angel but was held at blade point by Inias.

“Why does your husband have the blade I gave you before you left?!” Inias demanded. “I gave it to you for your protection, yet you give it to a human you only met a few days ago?!”

“Inias, let me go and I will explain everything.”

“Dina, are you mad?! This man could kill you in your sleep with that blade by his side!”

“Inias let her go!” Castiel exclaimed, hand on the hilt of his sword.

Sam grabbed Inias' shoulder, getting his attention.

“Your princess is asking you to let her go,” Sam growled.

“I need answers first!”

“INIAS LET GO!”

Suddenly, a burst of air came out of nowhere and flung Inias to the side a few feet. Dina ran immediately into Sam’s arms, her eyes glowing as she looked over at her friend. Inias got up, grunting as he stood. Softly he excused himself and headed back into the castle. Sam rubbed Dina’s shoulders, calming her down as she was shaking.

“I need to go talk to him,” Dina began as she started to pull away. “He must think I hate him or something. He’s never behaved this way.”

“I will go talk to him,” Sam clarified, moving her towards Dean. “You go with Dean so he can start you off. I will handle Inias and when he is ready, I will tell him where to find you to talk.”

Dina nodded her head slowly in agreement, moving to follow Dean. Once she and Dean were out of sight, Sam turned to Castiel, who was watching from where he stood.

“If you are going to talk to Inias, be ready for his truth.”

Sam nodded his head before making his way into the castle. After asking around, he found Inias in the garden outback. He was sitting by the pond, watching the fish swim by. Sam sat a bit ways from the angel but kept silent, waiting for the right moment to talk.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her or scare her,” Inias said in a whisper.

“She knows, she’s more worried that you think she hates you after that.”

“I can never hate her,” Inias chuckled softly. “She is my princess, my future Queen.”

“She is more than that isn’t she?”

“If you are asking if I love her more than a friend, then you already know the answer to that.”

Sam kept silent, waiting for the angel to continue.

“We aren’t supposed to feel this way, these human emotions. But when I see Dina, I feel like everything is better. Her beautiful smile shines a room up, her laughter bounces sweetly in your ear.”

“Then why not admit you love her, you had the chance to court her.”

“No, not Dina,” Inias said, shaking his head. “She was never interested in romance. Her love was to her brothers and her books, nothing more.”

“So this is one-sided?”

“Of course! Castiel even told me to never picture myself with her because she had no interest in things like that. So, I covered up my feelings and kept content that we were friends, that I was her best friend.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Sam apologized.

“Don’t be. Maybe with you, she will see things differently, open herself up to experience more things. Dina is a smart woman, very knowledgeable. But when it comes to her siblings, she never doubts them, even after Lucifer’s fall.”

“I doubt she will open up with me as she does with you. Plus, she believes Lucifer would never harm her.”

“He may never do so, but when it comes to Lucifer, no one knows exactly what he is thinking.”

Sam sat there with Inias, their silence making due. After a couple of minutes, Inias got up and extended his hand out to Sam. They both finally stood, face to face. Inias smiled at Sam and patted him on the shoulder.

“You will do well for Dina, make her happy. She deserves to experience joy in a world she doesn’t know.”

Inias then made his way out of the garden. But Sam still had one more question.

“Are you ever going to pursue her?”

“As long as you are alive, I will keep my distance and adore her only as a friend.”

Sam watched as Inias left the garden, pondering over the small revelation about Inias and Dina. He wondered if Dina was even capable of loving someone outside her family circle. Not that he wanted to try it, was just curious. Sam made his way out the garden and towards where Dina and Dean were supposed to be. He finally saw them, Dean showing Dina on how to hold a knife, and all Sam could do was smile at the woman before him. One thing was certain, not only was she beautiful, but she was smart and strong.