#like its one of my favourite places but then you get to the lights section

[himbos-hotline]

my brain is starting to explode inside my skull so i am diagnosing myself with sleepy bitch disease, im gonna be a sleepy puppy and lay in bed and hopefully not spontaniously combust

send me asks, fuck knows I need human connection thats not dependent on speaking words or me being seen as a human being

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

The Great Bucky Bake Off | Bucky Barnes x Reader | One shot - 3.5k words

An Avengers retreat takes a turn for the better when Bucky decides to eat your pot brownies… all of the pot brownies.

Warnings: 18+ sexual content. Drinking, casual drug use, Avengers wearing onesies for reasons, very flirty Bucky, p in v & oral sex. Rated R for ridiculous.

A/N: Happy birthday, Bucky Barnes!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Okay, ‘fess up, who ate all my brownies?” You turned to stare down the rest of the team, admittedly a little slow on your feet already.

The scene in the living room could only be described as chaotic. When Tony suggested he fly the team out to his remote cabin for “rest, recuperation and team building”, you had been fully on board. You were even more on board when he had you buy everyone fluffy animal onesies and you’d signed yourself up to a lifetime of being obsessed with your job the day you received an email to source as much weed, alcohol and Asgardian liquor as possible. Being the Avengers PA certainly had its perks. 

“Not me!” Steve admitted, far too quickly. “I didn’t eat them.” He shook his head, sending the dog ears on top of his onesie flopping about. 

You narrowed your eyes, “Well, you sure know something.” He looked the picture of innocence until he pulled Sam into the conversation. 

“Tell 'er Sam, we dunno nothin’ 'bout brownies." 

"Nuthin’” Sam shook his head too, his beer sloshing dramatically in its glass and wetting his hand. “My wings!” He steadied the bottle and brushed the stray liquid from the soft Eagle wings that made up the arms of his outfit.

“Have you spoken to James?” Natasha asked, leaning next to you and swiping crumbs from the plate, the last of the joint you’d shared placed delicately between her fingers. Somehow she managed to make the black onesie look very stylish, the arms rolled up to the silvery spiderwebs embroidered on the elbows and shoulders.

“James? Bucky?" 

Organising and taking part in retreats was your second favourite part of your job. Bucky took the top spot, miles ahead of everything else with his handsome, stubbled face and gruff but gentlemanly manner. Despite being part of the team for a while, he still kept to the background, staying out of the way and keeping quiet. He was always especially polite to you, holding the door and making sure you were included all the time, even if he never really stayed that long at Stark’s parties or Steve’s team building exercises.

Deep down you hoped it was because he saw you the same way you saw him, in your dreams, surrounded by little hearts. 

But life just wasn’t that kind, and you took his friendship gladly if that was all he could give. 

"Why would Bucky eat them, can he even get high?” You slid forwards, leaning on the counter and clutching the empty tray. 

“Bambi!” The four of you whipped around, surprised. Bucky bounced into the room with an enthusiasm that Steve hadn’t seen for decades. He also had chocolate on his cheeks and crumbs all down his front making him instantly guilty. You looked down at your onesie, light brown and speckled like a deer with tiny antlers on the hood. 

“Ha, yeah, like Bambi.” You giggled.

“And I’m Thumper!” He laughed back pulling the hood of his own pyjamas up and letting the long, grey, ears drop in front of his face. 

“Because you punch people?” You were momentarily confused, your brain refusing to work and instead focusing on the too tight fabric around Bucky’s arms. 

Behind you Sam coughed to cover his laughter and Natasha turned away, eyes full of mirth. 

“No! Thumper in Bambi!" 

"The girl rabbit?” Tony dropped down onto the huge sectional couch, surprisingly sober. Although you were sure that had more to do with promising Pepper to keep the cabin safe, rather than any personal choice. 

“Thumper is a boy.” Bucky insisted, eyes never leaving yours, his smile boyish and relaxed.

“How would you know?” Sam scoffed, leaning over the back of the couch, positively gleeful when Steve whispered that Bambi was also a boy and they fell back laughing together.

“Because, Sam, I’ve seen Bambi." 

"What?” Tony’s snort of derision didn’t go unnoticed, but you shot him a glare. This was possibly the most relaxed you’d ever seen Bucky, you wouldn’t be letting anyone, including your boss, spoil it. 

“I saw Bambi, in 1942, when it first came out,” he said proudly. 

“That’s right, I remember!” Steve jumped up, the Asgardian liquor cocktail that Natasha had rustled up earlier starting to take effect. “We went with your sisters, Rebecca cried when Bambi’s mom got shot and he was all alone." 

"Don’t spoil it, Stevie.” Bucky chastised, turning back to you as quickly as possible, “Have you seen it? Do you want to see it? We could see it?”

You nodded but he ignored you, continuing to talk as he got closer and closer, backing you into the kitchen island where the empty brownie tray dropped with a clang. 

"We can go, I’ll take you, Saturday, you can have as much popcorn and soda as you like.” His right hand swayed by his side, nudging closer to yours until your fingers touched. “What d'ya say?" 

Every fibre of your being screamed yes, just as you’d internally jumped for joy whenever he came by your office or handed you a coffee. But those times you were sober, calm, collected. Now you were four drinks and half a joint deep, floating off into the clouds. Professional judgement be damned. 

So you screamed "Yes!” outloud for once. 

He beamed, throwing his arms around you and squeezing just a little too tight until you squeaked. “Good, gonna be my best girl, my Bambi and I’ll be Thumper, buy you lots of popcorn and - oh - you’re really soft.” His hands found the back of your hood, pulling it up to sit on top of your head, letting it fall into your eyes. 

“Yeah it’s nice, right?” 

“S’fluffy.” Bucky’s thumbs brushed over your lips and down your neck, just inside the hood for a moment, before finding your shoulders and arms, rubbing the fuzzy material until you felt static build on your skin. “You’re really cute, y’know,” he whispered. “My own little Bambi.”

“I know.” You giggled back, picking up the joint again so you’d had something to do with your hands other than grip the front of your own outfit. 

“We didn’t smoke weed back in the day,” he said, conversationally, as if he didn’t have his hands in your pockets, pulling out your lighter and a lip balm. 

“No?” You took a drag, blowing the smoke to the side politely. 

“Did a lot of cocaine though, keep us awake on missions.” 

“Jesus. That’s…intense.” 

He nodded, watching your fingers against your lips, the little pout when you exhaled. 

“Can I?” 

“You ate a whole tray of brownies, Bucky, I don’t know if you should have anymore.” You extended your arm away from his grabby hands, hoping Natasha would come and take it away again, but to no avail. Instead, he lifted you onto the counter, pinned your leg down and followed the line of your arm to your outstretched hand. His lips brushed the backs of your fingers when he took the twist of paper into his lips. You waved him over and he held his breath as he returned to you, leaning in close and only exhaling when you pulled your hoods together, his nose against yours. 

Instinctively you inhaled, the rush of smoke and the smell of Bucky was overwhelming. You giggled again, trapping him against you with an arm around his neck and your legs around his waist. 

“Haven’t shotgunned since college.” You smiled, everything was so floaty and soft, fuzzy round the edges and so fucking warm. When did it get so warm? 

“You know with your floppy ears you could be-” your laughter bubbled up, cutting you off, “you could- sorry - oh my god - you could be Bucks Bunny!" 

Bucky did not seem to like that nickname as much as Thumper and told you so, pouting until you let him take another long drag. 

Time seemed to slow down between Bucky’s words, his hands, the way your glass of wine felt in your hand and the texture of his onesie. They were a good idea, so soft, good for petting, and Bucky was petting you too. His right hand was burning hot, even through the thick material, the pads of his fingers were calloused and rough, but the palm was soft. His left hand was so rigid, making a whirring noise. When you put your cheek to the artificial bicep it ticked pleasantly and you smiled, sighing and closing your eyes so you could concentrate on the joined sounds of Bucky’s heart and his prosthesis. In turn, Bucky held you gently, his metal fingers gentle on your back where he kept you snuggled in tight beside him. 

You were faintly aware of the ongoing chatter across the room, but it had faded away into background static. Your soul focus was on the way two of Bucky’s eyebrow hairs stuck out from the others, the little patch of grey forming in his stubble, the dark fleck of colour in his iris, the way his mouth looked saying your name. Oh shit, he’s saying your name, say something back! 

“Uh huh, yeah, uhm - maybe?” 

He tipped his head to the side, bunny ears flopping over too, and came closer again. His hands on your cheeks. “I’ll help you.” He leant forwards to rest his forehead against yours. 

“What’ya doing?” You tried to look at your forehead too but your eyes seemed to stop when they got to your eyelashes. Annoying. 

“Telling you what I’m thinking without saying it.” 

“Oh, is it working?” 

“You have to tell me that, silly!”

“I don’t think it’s working,” you whispered, loudly, and Natasha groaned from the sofa closest to the kitchen. 

“These two are out, done, nothing more for them,” she declared, waving her glass of red wine. 

A chorus of yes and agreed sounded from the remaining Avengers. Clint had already fallen asleep across one of the arm chairs, his beer dribbling onto his shirt from the neck of the bottle. Steve and Sam were deep in debate about the merits of Japanese whiskey over original scotch whisky and Tony was watching you both intently, his own glass of Glengoyne warming in his hand. The way the condensation formed under his fingers was fascinating, and you told Bucky as much, pulling him close to your cheek so you could get the same view. 

 “I concur, what did you do to my PA, Barnes?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re a bad influence.” 

“She’s not you PA, she’s our PA. So she’s ours to influence,” he returned, proudly. 

Tony just continued to stare, pointedly, sipping his drink.

“What you gonna influence me to do, Buck?” You kicked your legs against the kitchen counter, a picture of innocence, and Tony laughed into his drink. 

But Bucky looked at you very seriously, bent to whisper in your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck, his leg between yours, muscular and firm despite the fluffy clothes. 

“I’m gonna influence you to steal all of Stark’s M&Ms.” He tried to keep quiet but ended up choking out the end of his sentence around his own uncontrollable giggles. 

“Oh my god, you know he has me take the red ones out, says they’re smug. I have so many red M&Ms in my flat.” 

“Hey, that’s supposed to be a secret!” 

“Wanna eat all the red ones I brought with me?” 

Bucky helped you down from the counter and then across to the pantry where you’d stashed the huge bags of snacks and sweets when you first arrived. Despite Steve’s shouts of leaving some for everyone, you closed the door and sat down, ready to tuck in, wrappers and chocolate littering the floor while you dug about for your favourites. Bucky sat on the floor, encouraging you to sit between his legs, keeping his hands moving over the downy material of your onesie. 

“Okay, Bambi, what’ve you got for me?” 

Before you could even attempt to feed him anything, Steve wrenched the door open, hands on his hips. “I think you need to sleep this one off, not eat more chocolate,” he insisted, waving at you both to get back up. 

“Nuh-uh, Steve, not leaving.” Bucky tightened his arms around your waist and nuzzled into the back of your neck. “You smell like cake,” he exclaimed, happily, ignoring Steve. 

“Sam! Can you help me shift Bucky?!” 

“What about me?” You pouted, holding Bucky’s hands around your waist. 

“You need to go to bed as well.” Natasha extended her hand to yours in an effort to pull you off the floor, but Bucky’s grip was too strong. 

Eventually, it took everyone to wrestle you away from Bucky and bundle you into your room. In the corridor, Bucky howled his anger, breaking out of his room to easily find you in yours. 

“Bambi! There you are! Those awful hunters took you!” he cooed, squishing your cheeks again and kissing your pouty lips. Deep down your brain registered that this was your first kiss with him, that the man who had been consuming your thoughts for months was actually kissing you, willingly, and had broken a door so he could get close enough to do so. 

“Buh-kee, it was just Nat and Tony,” you drawled, your lips moving gently against his, reluctant to pull away. 

“I know, but I didn’t like it, wanna stay here with you.” 

Natasha, who was still trying to wrestle you into bed, gave up. “If you two stay in here together, and stay out of trouble, I won’t say anything.” She pointed at you both, eyebrows slightly raised. 

“Promise I’ll be good, Natty.” You fluttered your eyelashes at her dramatically, hoping to seem more trustworthy, but she just rolled her eyes. “Fine, stay here.” 

And then you were alone. 

You hesitated for a moment, watching the slow movement of Bucky’s face, fascinated by the way the muscles tightened minutely when he smiled. 

“I’m going to kiss you again now,” he stated, so formal that you broke out into another fit of laughter which made you hiccup and grab for his chest to steady yourself. 

He ignored you, bending his head and catching your lips with his, messy and rushed. 

“You taste real nice, you know?” Bucky licked across your lips again, swallowing your giggles. 

“You taste nice too, ate all my damn brownies.” With a long lick up his chocolate smeared cheek, you kissed him back, tangling your hands in his hair, trying to push the too hot, stuffy, fluffy, onesie off his shoulders. 

Bucky shrugged, and sat back to push the material down to his hips. Your eyes followed the movements of his hands, the way each inch of muscle revealed itself and, suddenly, you were hungry again, lunging forwards to bury your face between his pecs. Starting at his sternum, you kissed further and further down, shoving him backwards so you could climb on top of him, nipping and kissing bruises in a slow trail towards the end of the zipper. With a twist of his wrist, his cock sprang free from its confines and you bent down to lick the pearlescent precum leaking from his tip. 

“Fuck, Bambi.” He dropped his head back, one hand gripping the pillows and the other cupping the back of your head while you licked the head like an ice cream. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.” 

You sat back on your heels, letting your fingers dance up and down his cock. “Feels soft,” you observed, thoughtfully, “Hard and soft at the same time, isn’t that funny?” 

Bucky couldn’t reply, he just laid back, watching the woman he’d pined after for months finally touch him the way he’d dreamed. It seemed surreal to be here, in your bed, with your hands all over his body like you owned it. Well, he thought, you did own it, you just didn’t really understand that yet. 

“I wanna touch you, too,” he insisted, “Can I?” His hands hovered over your clothes, so close to the zipper his fingertips brushed it when you breathed. You nodded and he lowered the metal slowly. 

Everything seemed slow now, even his voice, mumbling against your skin when he kissed down your breasts and took your nipple into his mouth. When he bit down a little, you giggled, his fingers tickling your sides, until you were both laughing again, half in and half out of your onesies, brains full of cotton wool and lust and nerves. 

“Hey, hey.” You tugged on his hair until he looked up, resting his cheek on your belly. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

“Yes, I’m so good with secrets!” He crawled back over your body, lowering his face close to yours. “You can whisper it or you can do it telepathically.” 

“I’m not telepathic, Bucky.” 

“Sure, like this.” He dropped his forehead to yours. “I know all your secrets now.” 

“No, you don’t!” You shoved him, but he didn’t move. 

“I do!”

“Tell me then.” 

His eyes roamed over your face, from your eyes to your lips as if he couldn’t help it. “You like me.” 

“Everyone likes you, Buck, you just think they don’t.” 

“No you like me, you want to step out with me, be my best girl.” He looked overjoyed to have revealed your secret before you could. “Am I right?”

“Don’t be mean to me, Barnes.” 

“I’m not being mean, I read your mind.” 

“You know what? Fuck off.” You shoved a second time, but he still didn’t move. 

“Wanna read my mind? I’ll help.” His forehead met yours again, sweat beading along your hairline from the stress of being so clearly seen by the man you’d been fantasising about for months. Before you could protest that only he could read minds while high, he was kissing you again. Slow and steady, his tongue nudging your lips gently until you opened for him, throwing your arms around his neck and letting the feeling of petal soft kisses take over you. 

He moved away only enough to take off his now too warm onesie, as well as your own, leaving you both naked and tangled together on the bed. He couldn’t get enough of touching you, he felt buoyant, happy in a way that he hadn’t for months, years, and he never wanted it to end. His fingers tingled when they touched you, though it was becoming harder and harder to stay in control. 

“Bucky, I want you,” you managed to squeak out between kisses, fumbling awkwardly between you both, hoping he understood.

"I want you too.” He nodded, bumping your heads together. 

You wriggled beneath him, guiding him between your legs until he was buried inside of you. 

“Damn it, Bambi, you feel soft everywhere.” His wide eyed expression made you smile.

“You’re kinda soft too, Bucky.” This side of him was one you’d been dying to see, unguarded and playful. 

He nuzzled your cheek and began to move, tentative at first and then faster. In your dreamy state, it was hard to know where you started and ended or how long you’d been locked together. 

You moved as one, slow and steady, enjoying the feel of each other’s warm skin and chocolate sweet kisses, breaking every now and again to stare at each other in awe. 

Bucky seemed to sense your approaching release before you did, speeding up when you fluttered around him, the erratic movement of his hips driving you closer and closer to the edge of the bed until you both tumbled out. The pillows and sheets followed soon after, dropping on you in an avalanche of goose down and brushed cotton. 

You both paused in shock, your giggles broken by your fall, but then he was pulling you back down on top of him and holding your hips steady. 

“Bucky, I wanna - I gotta -” Your hand drifted between you again to touch your sensitive clit, just a little more pressure and you could feel your orgasm building. The tightness of your pleasure started between your legs and radiated out to your toes, making them curl against the sheepskin rug beneath you. 

Bucky followed after you, unable to control himself from the onslaught of sensation your clenching heat provided. 

You woke the next day in a tangle of limbs and bedding, your back sore from sleeping on the floor all night and your brain fuzzy. Beside you, still with a smear of chocolate on his cheek, Bucky continued to sleep. 

[rinnstars]

imagineee, aquarium dates with rin. LIKE, SEEING JELLYFISHES AND SHARKS AND CUTE TURTLES WITH OUR RINNIE?? perfecto *chefs kiss*. until you encounter a boy who strayed away from his teacher during their fieldtrip, and starts to tag along with you both. he likes rin but nags you so much?? wow, unfair! anyway, that's all, thank you @rinnstars !! mwa mwa !!

( i got this idea from the C-drama "When I Fly Towards You". the aquarium scene in episode 9 where they happened to be babysitters until the boy was brought back to his teacher and classmates. + please make this in the original timeline. highschool sweethearts with rinrin ( 16 or 17 ) >3< )

sea you with me!

aquarium dates with you

itoshi rin x reader: mainly from rin’s pov, fluff, a little bit of crack, not proofread + likes and reblogs are appreciated

notes: HIIII anon!!!! YES OFCCCC<333 fun fact is that i have never been to one but i hope it’s still sort of accurate TT spent my lesson break for this I JUST GOT A LITTLE EXCITED… just a little!!!! <3 dwww i read ur other part of req tooo although its in the bonus section ish !! <333

holding your hand in the midst of the crowd that forms around different section of glasses featuring different sea creature - from translucent-like jellyfish that practically shines underneath the blue shimmering light above it hovering around, from green turtles that floats around slowly serenely right next and in contrast to the shark that seem to bare its teeth to show its glory to the people looking in awe. he thinks hes lovesick when he sees that and glance at the reflection of you and him, so reminiscent of those sea creatures - with you being as ethereal and breath-taking as the jellyfish as you smile and him being the sharks being placed on display in a separate tank right beside yours in contrast the same way he frowns and grimaces and glares at others.

really, he thinks he doesn’t quite fit the atmosphere - filled with other students with their friends cheerily taking pictures of one another in front of each glass panel with their digicam (that’s inside his pocket if you ever ask for it), filled with noisy kids that yelp and tug at their parents shirt as they attempt to navigate the already-crowded area, filled with people that dress picture-perfect and light to match the atmosphere in contrast to his black jacket hiding his school uniform. and again, he is reminded of his own lovesickness - forgoing a lazy after school hang out with you right in his bedroom playing yours and his favourite song whilst eating food from that cafe he knows youre practically addicted to simply because you asked him to, without any pleadings or begging. yet, don’t get him wrong, hes having fun here although not in the traditional sense - he enjoys seeing you point and brighten up when you see a fish that just catches your attention as you skip right to it, he enjoys feeling your hands against his as though made for each other as you tug against it to move to the next section, and most importantly he really does enjoy seeing you enjoy yourself. after all, he knows you deserve especially after exam season - he’s seen you all drained out lying your head on your desk just days ago clearly exhusasted a few hours after insisting you’ll be fine, he’s seen your piles of notes and assignments and even more printed exam papers to redo for your exam that he thinks your table has already become the equivalent of an library, and hes seen you fallen asleep at your desk way later than you should be after his football club with tears stains that he wished to have been there to wipe away, to kiss away, anything to have prevented you from having cried.

and its this point as you two are chatting about life, leaning in closer to you, where that colourful fish that has been staying still seems to have woken up and in its hurry seem to swim desperately to another side that startles the both of you (he wishes to curse that fish for it would have been a scene out of a manga that you always read if he had mustered the courage to kiss you right there and then), leading you to stumble and almost hit someone - and by someone, its apparently a little kid who looks confused and dazed, not even moving as you almost crash right into him.

you look at that little kid and he looks right back at you with his wide eyes - and hes pretty sure it lasts a while more before you apparently decide to play “adopt me” (just like when you and him were both kids on roblox.. but he digress…) and he’s pretty sure he might just have accidentally glared at the kid with the way he tugs at your jacket as he walks behind you as though hiding from him. and of course, hes used to that sight, hes never been great with kids - having scared his little cousin with just his looks at some point that led him to be reprimanded by said cousin’s parents, having been bitten by said little cousin as soon as his parents left almost letting out a ear-shattering scream that would have completely shattered whatever ego was left from that bite mark that lasted weeks, having being thrown a drink at by said cousin another time whilst he was minding his business playing games beside him whilst having to save his switch and end up soaking wet in his home clothes for another hour or so (and he’s sworn off babysitting for his cousin ever since then) (he had to go to blue lock)

but in front of you, he wants a little pride, to impress you, he digresses - tugging at his pocket to offer the little kid in front of you a candy (out of the many he brings to give to you and to snack on himself). and he knows hes successful, letting himself smile slightly in victory as the kid face appears from behind you, cautiously accepting the candy that rin helps to tear away the packet of for him to enjoy. and perhaps he associates that sugary sweet strawberry flavour that bursts in his mouth with the two of you, suddenly turning from the quiet and confused kid you randomly found to a kid who suddenly was open and talkative, all smiles and laughter, holding the both of your hands in his and skipping, pulling you and rin with him.

and now, he finds himself no longer pulled by you, but this random kid - but when he looks at you who’s attention is clearly on the kid, smiling and nodding to whatever things he’s saying, you practically you look like an angel especially with the way the aquarium white and blue lights were illuminating you. and midway of course, he slowly lets go of rin’s hand, leaving him behind almost comically as he holds yours and his bag. and he can practically feel eyes glared at him, and all he wants to do is to run away as he walks behind you and that little kid that he now suddenly feels was against him all along - with the way he tugs and your arm and..!

“.. mhm! ah! wait those are my parents! bye bye!” he says, turning back at you and rin with a bright smile that practically filled your heart with warmth as though he was the sun, waving excitedly at the both of you before he cheerily skips towards his parents who looked confused at where he was, pulling him by the hand worriedly.

and with that, your hands are back to merging with his, and that tint of red on his face from embarrassment changes into a blush across his face that is only highlighted by the lights from having his hands on you, walking about in the sea exhibition. he wonders a little what that kid told you, for you to hold his hands seemingly a little tighter, leaning your head on his shoulder that isn’t completely uncharacteristic but still a little strange as you glance at another exhibition of fishes swimming passionately around the tank as though dancing, brushing his hair aside before leaning in and merging your lips with his that practically makes his heart flutters and pump even faster than it does on the field - and he swears he understands all those mangas you rave about teenage romance and whatnot when youre practically made for him.

bonus:

“… seriously bachira… i don’t think that’s rin…”

“it seriously is! i followed him from that cafe! i’m serious isagi!!”

“with that kind of personality…?”

“hey! keep it down a little he’s about to turn around..?!”

and rin thinks hes going to lose his mind when he turns around after that kiss only to see his isagi and bachira huddled together whispering clearly about him in their respective school uniform, tugging you by your hand to somewhere else as he sees them through the reflective glass of the exhibitions following him and you a little too obviously. but he guesses if its with you, he doesn’t mind it at all.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Destiny is all

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: it's almost a tradition now 😊 and it's always so much fun and so easy to work with you – my creative and talented beloved cowriter @little-diable 💖 Thank you for sharing this gorgeous idea and thank you for writing it with me.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, fluff, angst

Summary: Reading a new book is always exciting, sparking one's imagination with endless possibilities contained within its pages. But if you had known what unexpected turn of destiny awaited after turning that first page, would you have still dared to open its ancient, weathered cover?

Word Count: 6,3 K

The shop was dimly lit, only a few yellowish lights managed to flood the endless rows of bookshelves, filled with prints one could no longer buy in other bookshops. Your fingertips tingled as you stroked them along the spines of the old books, taken up by a giddy feeling as if the books were whispering to you, telling stories of old times that once were but no longer are. 

“Are you alright, dear?” The elderly shop owner’s voice ripped you out of your daze, having to blink a few times to try and clear your head. You could only nod your head with a soft smile glued to your lips – this was pure heaven for you, a history-loving soul desperate to fill your mind with old stories of people you were researching. 

“Have you already explored the medieval section back there?” It wasn’t your first time in the shop, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but you hadn’t ever explored that section, not finding the time to get properly lost in these tales. 

“I haven’t! Anything you can recommend?” You followed the woman to the section she had pointed towards, unable to stop your gasps as she showed you the leatherbound books that were centuries old. Even though they weren’t in your price range, you couldn’t help but look at them, carefully thumbing through them with awe laced in your gaze. 

“Here, this has always been a favourite of mine. Have you heard of Uhtred of Bamburgh before?” Slowly, you shook your head as you took the small booklet from her hand. It seemed to be a reprint, covering faded-out writings with newer ones. “I think you may find his story fascinating.” 

With a quick look at the handwritten price tag, you tightened your grip on the booklet, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to leave it behind. It felt as if it were whispering to you, calling for you to carefully listen to the secrets it wanted to share with you. And with another stroke along its spine, you let go of a soft, “I’ll take it.”

Your eyes were focused on your living room windows, watching the setting sun with a cup of tea held between your palms. The purchase you made earlier was lying next to you on your couch, begging you to explore it. But something was holding you back, something that forced you to hold still, trying to sort through your confusing thoughts. 

Soft music filled your apartment, cosying you along in old Norse, telling of warriors, battles won, and bloodshed. With a deep exhale clawing through you, almost as if you were preparing for a battle yourself, you placed your cup down, only to reach for the thin booklet. 

“Alright, Uhtred. Who were you?” It didn’t take long for the story to pull you in, managing to fascinate you from the first page on. Somehow, it felt as if you were reading the story of an old friend, somebody you had once known, letting an unfamiliar mix of emotions rise deep inside of you. 

The tale of Uhtred’s life grew darker with every page, telling you about his first family, those set to kill him, turning towards the fire that killed members of his second loving family, and eventually to King Alfred. Something told you that Alfred took up some third father-like figure to the young warrior, another battle Uhtred had been asked to fight – next to the wars he had successfully won. 

Halfway through the book, you had to place it down, unable to focus on another detail of war strategies and analysis of Uhtred’s fighting style. Your eyes wandered back towards the windows as your thumb kept stroking the old paper that had a weird feeling to it. It felt as if the original substance of the book had been mixed with new paper, torn between different centuries.

As your eyes found back towards the page your thumb was stroking, you froze up. You found yourself staring at some kind of scribblings, handwritten words that hadn’t been there minutes ago. Your mind was racing as you deciphered the medieval writing, grateful for all these transcription courses you had taken. 

For years, I have followed Uhtred - the Dane slayer, the Kingmaker, the Heathen, the greatest warrior to ever walk the lands of Wessex, Mercia, and beyond. A man whose deeds are destined to be forgotten, his name erased from the chronicles, banished from the memories of those he bled for. For it shall not be recorded that the greatness of Alfred was built upon Uhtred's broad shoulders. But I bear witness to this truth.

It is my sacred honour and burdensome duty to transcribe the tale of unswerving loyalty and sage counsel, of unflinching bravery and brazen defiance, but most of all, the tale of a friendship forged in the unrelenting storms of suffering and pain, as equally as by shared joy and laughter. A bond that carried us through life's journey cradled in its calloused yet gentle hands.

In this year of our Lord's blessed incarnation 896, being the 25th year of the reign of Alfred, King of the West Saxons, I, Osferth, set quill to parchment to weave our tale...

You rubbed your eyes in awe, transfixed by the words that seemed to float untethered before you. With a reverent breath, you plunged back into reading, devouring page after page that unveiled a rich tapestry of events - battles clashing like tides, alliances forged in desperation only to be treacherously abandoned, kings risen and just as abruptly dethroned, sacred oaths sworn solemnly yet shattered without remorse.

And as your fingers trailed along the final lines of each turned page, you felt the aged, yellowed vellum shudder beneath your questioning gaze and as if sensing your yearning for more the book yielded to your unspoken plea. The uneven scratchings of the young monk's hand shimmered into view, revealing a remarkable story, a tale more astonishing than the chronicles of England's bloody birth.

It was not the tale about the glory of battles or the intricate ways the powerful played with the people's fates that enraptured and didn’t let go, but the tale of an extraordinary friendship moulded between the most unlikely of companions. A lord severed from his birthright, an Irish prince bearing the burdens of his brother's cruelty, a bastard Dane haunted by the atrocities of his kin, and a fallen monk walking the perilous line between his vows to God and the warrior’s path.

You couldn't deny that the more you read, the more your attention was drawn to the young Dane’s tale, as you followed his journey from an endearingly insecure but headstrong youth ready to fight for his place at Uhtred's side, to a hardened and cunning warrior - Uhtred's trusted companion and artful spy.

"Sihtric, the Dane boy looks like a rat," you murmured under your breath. "Mismatched eyes, one dark and one pale. Unruly curls the very shade of a raven's wing. The strongest and most formidable arms in all the shires, and beneath that muscled, battle-hardened shell… a heart yearning for love's tender embrace,” you smiled, recalling bits and pieces of Osferth’s descriptions.

"I wonder what you truly looked like, Sihtric? What kind of a man were you in the flesh?" You whispered softly, trying to conjure every nuanced detail committed to parchment by the young monk's quill. 

You closed your eyes, trying to picture the fierce Danish warrior in your mind's eye, as you imagined a powerful, muscular man with a furrowed brow and striking, contrasting eyes that seemed to miss nothing. 

"Lady? Lady, are you alright?" An unknown voice suddenly shattered your reverie. You startled, eyes fluttering wide open as your heart pounded with fear. The scream that ripped through you was shrill, a sound so unexpected the man instantly took a step away. 

With your body trembling, you sat up, letting your eyes take in the unfamiliar surroundings. You were surrounded by trees while sitting on the mossy ground. Had the man kidnapped you from your apartment? Had he dragged you out here to do god knows what?

“Where am I? Who are you?” Panic dripped from your voice as you spoke. You allowed yourself to take him in, the mismatched eyes, the dark curls, even the necklace he wore, shaped in some kind of a “T”. 

“Are you sick, lady?” The man crouched down in front of you as his concerned eyes took in your features, seemingly trying to find wounds, scratches or something else. You could only shake your head, slowly realising that he was carrying a weapon, though no gun like you had expected, but a sword. 

“I won’t ask again, who are you? And why aren’t I at home, in my apartment?” Confusion tugged on his features, he seemingly was just as lost as you were. This felt like a nightmare, some dream you were now stuck in and couldn’t escape. 

“My name is Sihtric, lady. I’m afraid I don’t know where your home is nor where apartment lies. We are in Mercia.” He studied you for another moment before he reached his hand out for you to take. “Here, let me help you up.”

Slowly, you gave in, letting him pull you to your feet, and instantly taking a step away from him. Your surroundings were spinning as your mind kept racing. This must be some dream, something that the story had pushed through you as it couldn’t be a coincidence that you were now standing in front of the very Sihtric you had read about. 

“So if you are Sihtric, are you travelling with Osferth? With Uhtred? Even with Finan?” Sarcasm dripped from your words, followed by the hysterical chuckles you couldn’t swallow. Whatever this was, it felt all too surreal, something your mind could barely grasp. 

Just as Sihtric parted his lips to reply, his name was called by a man who appeared with his sword raised and his hard gaze set on your features. You gave yourself a moment to study him, the short brown hair, the muscular arms exposed by the armour he wore, somewhat matching Sihtric’s. 

“Is she sick?” His Irish accent instantly told you that this must be Finan, but his question distracted you from any other detail you could pick up on. Sick? You didn’t know much about sicknesses in earlier periods, but you knew enough to understand that sicknesses were much deadlier in the past than they were for you with modern medicine. 

“I don’t think so.” Sihtric shot you a soft smile before he turned towards Finan, “She’s no threat, lower your sword.”

But Finan didn’t move, he kept staring you down, taking your clothes that were all too different to theirs, forcing you to stand out even further. Without moving too much, you tried to pinch yourself to wake from this strange dream, but no matter how hard you tugged on your arm, nothing changed, you were still standing on the same spot, close to the two men.

“The sickness will kill us all! Leave her here, I don’t trust strangers to tell the truth.” Finan turned from you as if he expected Sihtric to blindly follow the command. But Sihtric didn’t follow him, at least not before softly taking your hand to pull you with him. 

“Come, let’s find Uhtred, he will want to meet you, lady.” 

Still certain that this was just a vivid dream, you allowed yourself to be led by the firm grip of Sihtric's calloused palm against yours, wondering what other fantastical tricks your obviously overactive mind had prepared.

"Who is this?" Uhtred's voice rumbled deeply with a distinct accent. You recognized him instantly because of the iconic sword slung across his back - The Serpent's Breath - its hilt adorned with an amber stone, just as described in Osferth's records.

"I found her sleeping in the woods, Lord," Sihtric replied, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "The lady seems quite lost." He leaned in closer to Uhtred, lowering his voice though you could still hear, "She speaks of strange things and appears to know who we are."

You laughed lightly. "Of course I know who you are. I've read all about you." This earned you a strange nod and sympathetic shrug from Sihtric, as if he thought you addled. In truth you  were already starting to question your own sanity as your knees began to wobble and you slumped down onto a nearby giant tree root.

As much as you wished to wake from this strange dream, you remained unable to. So you just sat there, witnessing the hushed discussion between the medieval warriors, catching their furtive, suspicious glances cast your way.

You could make out a few words - Finan suggesting they leave you behind, afraid your evident madness was a sign of sickness. But Sihtric argued against abandoning a confused lady alone in the wilderness. You weren't sure which option you preferred, as both seemed equally perilous - travelling with these savage strangers to an unknown destination, or being left alone in the vast forest.

"The lady comes with us," Uhtred's verdict reached your ears. "We can't leave her and risk our pursuers discovering which way we've gone."

"But Lord..." Finan tried to interject, only to be silenced by Uhtred's stern gaze as another woman appeared from the trees, accompanied by three children and two young monks.

"We've refilled the flasks from the stream," she said, eyes widening at the sight of you.

"We have company," Uhtred explained, turning towards you. "Lady, are you good with children?"

“Children? No, I'm not," you exclaimed, remembering the last time you visited your sister when your five-year-old nephew managed to slip a farting pillow beneath you as you were seated at the dinner table with guests over. You had no idea until you shifted in your seat, causing the pillow to loudly blast a sound that made you freeze. Your face flushed beet red as the other guests tried to stifle their laughter while that small devil in disguise found it hysterical, rolling on the floor in a fit of giggles. 

"Well, we aren't either," Uhtred shrugged, and the decision was apparently settled.

The wild run through the woods, with only the vast sky as the roof overhead and fallen leaves serving as a bed, had been exhausting. Yet, you found yourself astonished by the unexpected company you were forced to travel with. Everything you had read about these men, now serving as both your guards and protectors, seemed to ring true. 

A wry laugh escaped your lips as you caught yourself thinking that after centuries of hard-fought battles for women's emancipation and equal rights, it took an extraordinary twist of fate to transport you into the midst of the Middle Ages, to finally encounter men who regarded you not as an object to be possessed or used.

"Lady, tell me more about your home. Where do you hail from?" Sihtric settled beside you, handing you the flask filled with water.

While Finan maintained a wary distance, likely still unconvinced of the absence of any impending danger that you might be carrying the sickness within you, Sihtric was the polar opposite. The young and handsome Dane, with his striking half-shaved hairstyle that allowed dark locks to curl freely on one side, seemed genuinely drawn to you. More importantly, he appeared to believe you when you attempted to explain that you were not from here, not even from a distant land or kingdom.

Even if the concept of time travel was something he was unable to grasp, for which you couldn’t blame him, Sihtric's curiosity remained piqued, and he was eager to learn more about the strange place you called home. 

"Please, tell us about those weird carriages that drive alone without being pulled by a horse," Aethelstan pleaded, seating himself on the ground before you. You smiled, amused by the fact that boys remained boys across centuries. However, before you could begin your tale, you felt the small and fragile frame of Aelfwynn carefully cuddling against your side, her thin and icy hands wrapping around your waist as if seeking solace in the warmth of your body.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, and for a brief moment, you savoured the serenity and strange calmness that enveloped you. Unnoticed, against every expectation, these children had enchanted you from the very first day of your unexpected journey.

Aethelstan, a solemn young boy far too serious for his age, gazed at you with wide, inquisitive eyes carrying a deep sadness. When you had simply asked his name, his response astounded you - "I'm no one," he uttered, as if it were something normal, even self-evident.

His quiet sobs woke you in the night. Though asleep, tears covered his cheeks as his small body shook, a soft cry slipping out, "Mummy, where are you? Don't leave me alone." You moved closer, fingers soothingly running through his hair. Suddenly, his little arms wrapped around you. With his nose buried in your chest, a shy smile graced his lips as he calmed, his breathing turning smooth and even. Not knowing what else to do, you just held him a little tighter, watching his small, thin face lighten in the dim light of the fading moon, his eyes tightly shut, wishing you could do something to shield him from this harsh world.

But it was Aelfwynn who worried you even more. She was a lovely, timid child, so beautiful and yet so fragile. It was evident the arduous journey on foot through the woods, meadows, hills and valleys was taking its toll on her. She grew paler with each passing day, her hands like ice, yet every time she pressed herself against you, you could feel her body burning. 

"We need to rest more. The children can't keep up this pace," you said worriedly to Sihtric after finishing your fanciful story about cars. Both Aethelstan and Aelfwynn had listened with mouths agape, as if you had spun the most fantastical fairy tale.

Sihtric's gaze lingered on you perhaps a moment too long, his eyes radiating warmth, before turning away. "You speak truly," he finally replied, "but we dare not linger. We are being pursued. Every mile we put between us and our pursuers could mean the difference between life and death. One of your marvellous self-driving carriages would be quite useful now." He gave you a small smile before rising and heading to Uhtred.

You were relieved to see Sihtric had indeed conveyed your concerns, as the following days were considerably less strenuous, with more pauses for rest. Still, Aelfwynn's condition worsened until her waning strength required her to be carried from time to time. It was often Sihtric who first noticed the pain contorting the small girl's face, offering his broad back without prompting, and you found yourself musing at how accurately Osferth's descriptions had painted his strong, but caring and observant friend.

The tender attentiveness Sihtric showed towards everybody contrasted sharply with his imposing warrior's build hinting that there were evident depths to this man beyond his formidable exterior.

Your hand squeezed Aelfwynn's small palm tighter as you dragged her along, feeling her stumble and whine painfully as she tumbled to the ground. You pulled her back to her feet, running for your lives as the thundering hooves of pursuers closed in. Fear propelled you forward, even as your strength waned with each stumbling step of the frantic flight.

Aelfwynn stumbled again, and suddenly strong arms scooped her up.

"Run, lady! Don't stop!" Sihtric's voice urged. You didn't need telling twice, feet pounding the earth until the frenzied hunt came to an abrupt halt at the river's edge. Blood rushed deafening in your ears as your eyes frantically jumped from armed man to armed man surrounding your small company, bows drawn taut. A feeling of doom crept in.

You felt two pairs of small, trembling arms wrap around your waist from each side. Placing your hands on their shoulders, you carefully shoved both Aethelstan and Aelfwynn behind you, taking a resolute step forward ready to shield them with your own body if necessary as Uhtred and the others lined up before you.

"Lady, take it," Sihtric said, extending his arm with a hunting knife behind his back. You reached out, trembling fingers wrapping around the hilt, but he didn't relinquish his grip, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Use with care, I'll want it back." His mismatched eyes bored into yours as he let go, the weight of the dagger settling into your palm along with the calming effect of his words.

With no other hope, you clung to those simple words like a lifeline in a storming sea, pooling all your strength and courage into your balled fist clutching the unfamiliar weapon, while you watched the bizarre scene unfold before you, hope rising from nowhere as Eadith confronted her brother, accusing him of murdering his lord.

"Lady, you are full of surprises," Sihtric's warm voice cut through the haze as you felt his rough fingers gently brush yours, wrapping around your hand and helping you finally loosen your white-knuckled grip on the dagger. "It's over, we are safe for now."

He carefully took the knife, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "And you told us you are not good with children," the warrior smiled, his gaze hovering over Aethelstan and Aelfwynn still clinging to you.

"Are you sure this will help?" The uncertainty in Sihtric's voice mirrored the doubt clearly visible in everyone's eyes.

"The only thing I'm sure of is that if we do nothing, she may not survive until morning," you pleaded, your gaze moving from Sihtric to Eadith and the others. "We have to lower her fever."

"Lord, if this is the sickness, only God can help her...and us," Finan voiced the fear they all silently harboured.

"I don't care," you whispered, tears shining in the corners of your eyes. "Just bring me linens soaked in cool stream water and find the herbs. I'm staying with her, and I'll do the rest. I'm not afraid." You turned to go to the room where Aelfwynn had been placed.

For you, there was no reason to believe she had contracted the dreaded sickness, but there was little you could explain about infectious diseases to your companions. You understood their fear, but you were by no means ready to give up and leave the child's life to fate. Perhaps this was the reason you had been brought here - to use your modern knowledge to save the life so miraculously entrusted to you. 

The village you had finally reached was nearly abandoned, fear of the sickness driving away all but some elderly inhabitants too feeble to travel or too stubborn to be driven from their lifelong homes. The ancient grandmother who had offered you all shelter in her humble dwelling seemed bent by age, her face and arms weathered by wrinkles, yet her eyes remained kind and warm.

"Don't just stand there gawking. You heard the lady - willow bark, elderflower, linden, and meadowsweet. Go!" the old woman commanded, bony finger pointing at Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric. "Don't fret, child, I'll help you. I'm too old to fear the final caller."

It was Eadith who first snapped out of the solemn, lingering silence. "Osferth - you're coming with me to the stream to fetch cool water," she ordered, and as if by a magic wand, everyone sprang into action.

"I will prepare the different herbal teas as you instructed and bring everything to you. We cannot let her die. She is the future of this kingdom," Eadith said, turning to you and placing a reassuring palm on your shoulder. You nodded gratefully for the unexpected support.

Aelfwynn looked so small and pale, her forehead beaded with sweat, breathing shallow and rapid as you sat by her bedside, holding her thin, burning hand in yours. You raised your head at the creak of the opening door, surprised to see it wasn't only Eadith and the wrinkled landlady entering.

They were followed by the broad-shouldered frame of Sihtric, carrying buckets of cool spring water. He placed them on the bench near the window and turned to you. "Lady, please tell me what else I can do."

"Aren't you afraid of the sickness?" you asked in astonishment.

"I am, it's an invisible enemy that can't be defeated with weapons. But you are here, and you are not afraid, neither is Eadith. I've always known there is an invisible strength in women - a strength to endure, to persist where the toughest men crumble. My own mother had that fortitude." His voice faded on the last words, a veil of sadness spreading over his handsome features.

"I cannot simply stand by watching. Not again..." Sihtric didn't finish the thought, but his haunted expression spoke more than any words could.

You watched him in a new light as he rolled up his sleeves, resolved to offer whatever assistance he could, your regard of him only growing. The young warrior seemed as acquainted with grief as with battle and was willing to place his faith in the quiet courage you and Eadith displayed against an enemy he knew he had no chance of standing against.

Later that night, reassured by Aelfwynn's steady breathing and her hands cooling from the fever's grip, exhaustion finally overwhelmed you and your eyes started drifting shut. It was then that Sihtric's strong yet remarkably gentle arms wrapped around your shoulders and under your knees, cradling you against his chest as he carried you carefully to the other bed in the room before resuming his vigil by the window, watching over your slumbers. 

And as you slowly slipped into restful dreams, you felt an unexpected sense of security and warmth enfolding you. Whatever forces had brought you to this time and place, you were grateful for the chance that was given to you. 

Even though you still struggled to accept that this seemed to be your life now, you found joy in being surrounded by these people who slowly turned into being your friends. By now you were in Aegelsbury, and for the first time since crossing paths with the group, you found yourself being on your own, away from Uhtred who was focused on his duties on becoming ruler of Mercia, even away from Finan and Osferth, who seemed to enjoy their time hiding in alehouses with pretty women. 

You had missed being on your own, giving you a chance to sort through confusing thoughts, fears, and the anticipation you couldn’t shake. This life was anything but easy, and yet it felt like you were finally part of something you had always missed, with these wonderful people and a certain man with dark locks and beautiful eyes you searched at any given chance. 

Being close to Sihtric felt like fate had always planned for you to come together, held apart by too many centuries between you–until you had found your way into this very year. Your heart longed for the strong warrior whenever you were away from him, just the mere thought of him made your heart race in your chest as if he was touching you once again. 

“Lady?” It felt as if he heard your thoughts, lured closer to check up on you as you hid away in the rented room. With a silent curse leaving you, you cleared your throat before calling a small “Yes?”. 

Your eyes were instantly drawn to his mismatched ones, getting lost in their rich colour, the secrets they carried, and the longing you couldn’t help but feel too. Sihtric stepped into the room all too carefully as if he was giving you the chance to make him leave before the door could fall shut behind him.

“I,” he had to avert his gaze as he fumbled with his fingers. “I wanted to see if you were alright, I haven’t seen you since yesterday morning.” 

A rosy tint brushed his cheeks, a sight so lovingly, you couldn’t help but reach your hand out for Sihtric to take. You pulled him closer while trying not to focus on the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, the way his calloused fingertips brushed over your skin, and the heat that began to simmer inside of you. Sihtric was the sweetest temptation, a man the girls at home would all fall for within seconds. 

“I’m good, thank you, Sihtric. I think I am just tired after the past few days.” The soft smile he shot you left you chuckling, unable to bite down your adoration for the tall man. Your hands stayed connected as silence engulfed you two, stroking along your bodies like a snake slithering to Eden, finding shelter in the warmth only your hearts seemed to offer. 

“I didn’t want to disturb your peace, perhaps I should leave you be. But,” the rest of his sentence was left hanging in the air. You could tell that he struggled to put whatever he was feeling into words, coming off as a shy young boy rather than a gruesome warrior who knew no holding back on a battlefield. 

“But what, Sihtric?” He let go of your hand to interlace his fingers in his lap, it seemed as if he was holding himself back from whatever he was close to doing–and if you were certain of one thing only, it was that you didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted him close, as close as possible. 

“I can’t stay away from you, lady. I don’t know what spell you casted over me, but I seem to miss your closeness whenever you leave my side.” Slowly, you reached for his chin to tilt his head back towards you. Without speaking a single word, you traced his soft lips with your thumb, hoping that he began to understand that you felt the same draw towards him.��

You held eye contact while shuffling closer, perhaps you were simply offering him a way out, a way to escape should he want to stay away, but Sihtric was fully entranced by you. And without speaking another word, he closed the distance between you to press his lips against yours. 

The kiss was everything you had been dreaming of, soft enough to test the waters, to adjust to what you were now feeling, and yet it was urgent enough to tell you he wanted more. Without breaking the kiss, Sihtric pressed you down on the mattress, he hovered over you as he got comfortable between your thighs. 

His calloused fingertips stroked your skin as one hand found its way beneath the dress they had bought for you to make you blend in more. Your hands played with his hair, to tug on the strands as he found your naked cunt. The buzz that shot through you had you moaning, letting the sounds vibrate on your tongues as the kiss grew even more demanding. 

“Sihtric,” you panted his name and for a second he parted from you. Both were clearly ready to give in, to fuck like you were destined to be, and yet you couldn’t help but feel excited and somewhat nervous about giving yourself to Sihtric. A man who was born over a thousand years before you. 

You held eye contact as he rose to his feet to shuffle out of his armour, letting it carefully rest on the small wooden table. Heat shot through you at every glimpse he offered of his skin, the body you wanted to feel pressed against yours. His cock was painfully hard, begging to be buried inside you like the both of you had dreamt of for the past nights, something you were set on finally turning real.

“Come here.” You barely recognised your own voice, it was huskier, rougher than before. Sihtric found his way back to you on the mattress, and with another kiss shared between you he pulled you into a sitting position to help you out of your dress. The second he had you naked, Sihtric kissed his way to your chest, to suck on the hardening numbs while his cock brushed through your slit, collecting drops of your arousal to coat himself.

“Will you let me fuck you, lady? Let me make you scream my name so they all hear who’s fucking you.” The teasing words left you gasping for air. You could only let go of a desperate plea, needing to feel him stretching your walls as if you had been born for this moment only. 

Without another warning, Sihtric pushed into you. He moved slowly, carefully almost as if he was just as nervous, unsure what to expect. But the second he was buried inside of you, you couldn’t help but claw at his skin, begging him for more. Sihtric began to build a rough pace, letting his body meet yours with every thrust to draw the loudest moans from you, letting them reverberate through the room.

“You feel so good, oh fuck, don’t stop, Sihtric.” You paid your words no attention as they left you, you were already too far gone as he fucked you closer and closer to the edge. Never again would you be able to leave his side again, no matter what may happen, your heart had found shelter inside his, clinging to him like two halves belonging together.

“I won’t, lady, you’re mine, forever mine.” His words made your walls flutter around him, a sensation that only grew stronger as his calloused fingertips began to circle your pulsing bundle. The moans that left you two grew lower, nothing but raspy sounds that mixed together while Sihtric pressed his forehead against yours. 

The moment had something so awfully intimate to it, you feared you would never experience this again with him, as if it was a one time thing that can’t be redone. But the emotions swimming in his mismatched pupils told you that this wasn’t just for one night only, this was a bond that would hold for as long as you lived, forever chained to his side. 

“I’m so close, fuck, let me cum.” Sihtric only laughed at your words, a challenge he seemed to easily give in to. His thrusts grew more ferocious, faster than the ones that had you seeing stars. Now you were engulfed by darkness, a darkness so rich, you couldn’t help but give into the sweetest sensation.

Your orgasm clashed through you without giving you a chance to stop it, it filled every pore, every vein of your trembling body. Sihtric kept moving, he kept snapping his hips against yours until he let go with a deep moan. He imprinted himself on your walls, leaving his stain on your body and soul before slowly pulling out of you.

A playful breeze danced through the open window, its gentle caress rousing you from slumber's embrace. Sihtric's deep, even breaths formed a soothing rhythm, his chest rising and falling in a slow flow - the only sound to pierce the night's tranquil silence. And yet, a peculiar sensation lingered, as if you had heard your name whispered amidst the stillness.

Carefully, you shifted, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed to plant your feet on the cool floor. Reaching down, you retrieved your simple undergarment, carelessly discarded, and pulled it over your head. There it was again - a faint sound, so feeble that you questioned whether it was truly perceived or merely an echo reverberating from the dreamscape you had inhabited moments ago. Pictures of your former life in the hectic modern world with your friends, studies, and future plans, had danced vividly behind your closed lids.

You could not ignore the strange, insistent tugging sensation, as though your limbs moved on their own, carrying you towards the door and down the dimly lit corridor to Osferth's quarters. A soft, flickering glow seeped from beneath his door, beckoning you onward, and you carefully pushed the door as if knowing that it would yield and open.

The room was empty, Osferth likely too wasted to find it after another drinking contest with Finan. Your eyes scanned the sparse furnishings, finally landing on the table by the window where you saw it. The very same old book, the feeling of its leather cover against your fingertips still vivid in your memory, emanating an otherworldly, soft radiance, its pages turning lazily in the gentle breeze.

You hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you beheld the waning images dancing across the illuminated pages - scenes of you savouring ice cream in your favourite coffee shop, dancing with friends in the disco you adored for its fortnightly DJ sets, hurrying through the sterile corridors of a hospital in your pristine white coat, stethoscope slung around your neck, your dream profession as a doctor finally within grasp after years of arduous study.

The whispered beckoning of the pages caressed your ears. This was it – your chance to return home, to leave this harsh, unforgiving world behind. You stretched out your hand, trembling slightly, fully aware of what would happen the moment your fingertips grazed those magical leaves.

The warmth of Sihtric's body enveloped you as he stirred from slumber, his muscular arms instinctively wrapping around your form and pulling you closer. A contented sigh escaped your lips as a gentle sense of happiness bloomed within your chest.

"You're chilled," he murmured huskily, his breath a delicious caress against the sensitive skin of your neck. With tender care, he adjusted the thick woollen blanket, meticulously tucking it snugly around your shivering frame.

“I can’t believe it took until I travelled back in time for me to feel like this.” Your whispers filled the room–words that piqued Sihtric’s attention as he pulled you against his chest. 

“What do you mean?” A kiss was pressed to your forehead, a gesture so sweet, you couldn’t help but smile up at him.

“I feel more loved and appreciated than ever before.” And with a slow kiss shared between your swollen lips, you knew that this had always been your destiny. You had been made for this man, as much as he had been crafted for you. Destiny is all.

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[spaghettificationandpretzels]

As love and its Decisive Pain

Main Masterlist

I had some thoughts and had to write them down, so here we are.

Title inspo

Contains: Fluff, loving husband Ray, impact play with a flogger, bondage, smut (fingering, sex toys, P in V) aftercare. Not beta read.

2.1K words

Ray goes shopping

The narrow, cobbled stone street was one of Ray's favourites. The area, which was once a red light district back when the Thames was filthy and a loaf of bread cost a few cents, still had an illicitness about it, like the pleasure and vice still lingered in the air. Up an old set of poorly lit steps and left through a glass door into a store with walls lined with goods that would make The Marquis De Sade blush.

"Mr Smith, good to see you again. I was just about to call you about a new piece." Mavis, the woman at the counter, ducked down and produced a long black flogger with the strangest handle he had ever seen. "It came in yesterday. Nice thudy fall with no sting, and the handle," she handed to Ray as he approached the bench. "It's muti use."

The handle was made of the smoothest metal he had ever felt and it took up the heat of his hand like it was enchanted. "How much."

Mavis smiled. "For you, five hundred." He slid the money across the counter as she packed it in a fancy black box. "Anything else today?"

He shook his head. "No thank you, Ma'am. Pass my compliments onto the Leatherworker, they did some wonderful work." He left with a wave and a smile on his face, tonight was going to be delightful.

Ray did his best to fight back his smile as he walked into his home library. You were sitting, curled up on his favourite chair by the window and flashed him a warm smile when you set eyes on him. "Hello Dearest, I wasn't expecting you until six."

He smiled. "Micky let me off early. I got you something." He took the box from under his arm and placed it on the table. "I think you'll like it."

You took your time opening it, untying the ribbon before pulling off the lid and moving the tissue paper aside. "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion, Beloved, I just wanted to get you something nice." He sat next to you and pressed his lips to the side of your face. "Do you like it?"

You removed the flogger from the box and ran your fingers through the many tails. "Oh yes, I love it. Thank you." You placed your hand on his cheek and kissed him. "Can we use it tonight?"

He grinned against your lips. "Of course."

You return your attention to the implement in your hand; the hilt was odd, it was longer than any others you owned, with two sections separated by a guard, it was only when you took a closer look at the pommel that it registered. "Oh, that's interesting."

His beard scratched your skin as his teeth nipped your ear. "I thought so too." He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissed you as his hand slid up your shirt, only when you were breathless did he pull away to speak. "I'm going to cook you dinner, then you're all mine."

The bedroom was pleasantly warm, as were Ray's hands as he undressed you. "You remember what to say if you want to stop?"

You nodded. "Poppy."

He smiled. "Good girl." The rope he looped around your wrists so he could tie you to the bed posts was soft, each knot made carefully for your comfort. There was enough tension so that when your legs eventually gave out, you would stay standing, your back remaining a perfect target for him to land every well placed strike.

To anyone outside the room, it must have looked like some lurid facsimile of a crucifixion, you standing naked, your arms spread open with each one tied to a bedpost, but it was one of the most erotic things Ray had ever seen. The brush of leather on your skin was gentle, a mere promise of things to come. "Are you ready, my Darling?"

You took a deep breath. "Yes."

The first few hits were soft, an easy warm up so you could fall into the sensation in relaxed comfort. There was a pause and his eyes met yours as a warm, calloused hand found your back, feeling the growing heat coming off your skin before his voice filled the air, already tight and filled with lust. "Are you ready for more?"

"Please." The next hit wasn't soft and it had your muscles coiling to avoid jolting too much in your bonds. He paused to wait for you to relax before delivering the next one, and the second you stopped tensing, they came in steady succession until he hit a pleasant rhythm that filled the room with satisfying thuds.

When he came around to your front this time, his shirt was rolled up to his forearms, and his pupils had all but taken over the pretty blue of his eyes. "So, do you like it?"

"I do, very much."

He smiled and scratched your heated skin, the feeling mixing with the dull ache of his hits and sending tingles up and down your flesh. "Good. Would you like more?"

You nodded. "Yes please."

He pecked your check before disappearing from view again and the hits began once more. Time grew fuzzy around the edges, like he had wrapped your brain in cotton wool and you fell into the support of the rope like a sailor falls into the safety of a hammock. Eventually he stopped, returning to your side as he ran his hand up and down your back. "I think it's time we move on."

He placed the flogger down for the moment and ducked under your arm so he could stand in front of you. The kiss he took you in was filled with lust and he didn't even give you a moment on control as he nipped your lower lip. He slowly ran his hand down your body, his fingers seeking until they reached your core. "Fucken hell, you're so fucken wet Sweetheart, is this all for me?"

He must have meant for the question to be rhetorical because there was no way you could give him a clear answer when his index finger circled your clit. He watched your face as he slid two fingers inside you, smiling to himself as your expression grew tight with pleasure. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

He pulled away and your eyes popped open, and you watched as he stepped away, making his way to his bedside drawer to collect a bottle of lube. Each movement was full of intention as he picked up the flogger by the bottom part of the hilt below the guard and spread a generous amount of lube on the pommel. The metal was surprisingly cold, given how it felt when you first held it. He rubbed it through your folds and you felt him grab your face with insistent fingers as your eyes drifted closed. "No, don't close your eyes, I want to watch you feel it."

The second your eyes met his, he slid the hilt inside you in one long, persistent push. He paused for a moment to admire the glassiness of your eyes and the way your breath caught in your chest before slowly pulling it out and then using the same slow, steady pace to slide it back in. The smooth steel was unforgiving hard, and guided by Ray, it pressed against your walls in a way that made you feel unbelievably full. He changed the angle so the rounded head of the pommel pressed against our G-spot with each pass and mercifully, he allowed your eyes to close as your head fell against your bicep.

He seemed intent on torturing you, never picking up speed or adding force but something about the unrelenting pressure and hardness of the hilt increased the pleasure growing in your core regardless. He shifted, never letting go of the flogger and you felt him press himself against your back as he resumed fucking you with it. He was hard in his trousers and it seemed the whole scene was affecting him just as much as you as he began to whisper praise in your ear.

Soon enough, Ray's persistence began to pay off and you felt yourself grow closer to the edge, but as your thighs closed around his hand involuntarily, you felt his foot kick at you calf. "Keep your legs open or you'll regret it." There was no force in the kick, it was nothing more than a tap but for a moment, you felt the same level of helplessness that you imagine the men who ran afoul of him felt when he kicked them to the ground.

You planted your feet on the ground and forced yourself to keep your legs still. "I'm sorry."

He smiled and pressed his lips to the back of your neck as he slid his free hand down your body to run your clit. "Hush, just be the good girl I know you can." While the push of the hilt remained languid, his fingers were fast and the juxtaposition was as confusing as it was enrapturing. "Are you going to come for me?"

You nodded. "Yes, if you want me to."

He smiled as his teeth nipped at your shoulder. "Of course I do." All most as if by magic, you fell into bliss as he sucked a mark into your skin. It was wave after wave of intensity while he poured praise over you like you were Venus in the shell. He slowly slid the handle from you, and you heard it thud before he untied you, allowing you to lean your back against his chest as you found your legs. "Can I have you tonight or will it be too much?"

You shook your head. "No, I don't want to stop."

"Good." He took your hand and led you to the side of the bed, pulling back the covers and gesturing for you to lie down while he undressed. The carefulness was a show in itself, each item coming off slowly before being folded and placed down on a chair. He was deceptively large under his clothes and watching his cock spring free as he slid his black boxers down his legs had your mouth watering.

He shot you a cocky grin as he closed the distance and climbed onto the bed, manhandling you until you were lying under him. He leaned down and kissed you, his beard scratching your skin as one hand trailed down your body so he could lift your legs over his waist. He shifted onto his elbow as his hand slid up your thigh then between you, wrapping around his cock so he could line himself up.

He met eyes with you, his expression going soft. "Are you ready?"

You nodded. "Yes please."

Your eyes fluttered closed as he groaned, his hips twitching as he fought to maintain control of himself. "Fucken 'll Love, your cunt could kill a man." His whole body coiled as his hips started to shift, a rhythm that had the head of his cock brushing your G-spot with each stroke. You clung to him, trying to match his pace as he pushed you closer to the edge. After the steel of the flogger hilt, Ray's cock felt positivity molten and the heat of bare skin against yours had a comforting heat spreading from every point of contact.

His words had turned into a hushed prayer, said more to himself than you as he wove a hand between your bodies to rub your clit. "Come on Love, you gotta come for me."

It happened slowly this time, a radiating warmth emanating from his cock, through your core and to the tips of your fingers and toes. His pace picked up as he chased his own high, the hand that was on your clit curling into your hip in a pushing clasp as he neared the edge. He took you in a kiss, equal part loving and rough as you felt him pulse inside you, and his muscles faltered as his hips stuttered and his weight fell on you.

His forehead rested on yours as he caught his breath, gazing into your eyes lovingly as he smiled softly. "Thank you."

You giggled. "Shouldn't I be thanking you?"

He chuckled and rolled off you, bringing you with him as you rested your head on his chest. "No, you are the one that is so ready to give yourself to me whenever and for whatever I ask and I'll always be grateful for that."

You sighed and pressed your lips to his chest. "You're really sweet when you want to be."

He smiled and brushed his fingers over your cheek. "Yeah, well when you're ready I'm going to run you a bath and get you clean up then we can get some sleep. How does that sound?"

You nodded. "It sounds good. I love you Ray."

His lips were soft when he placed them on your forehead. "I love you too y/n."

Fin

[northsoulss]

dating you III - alessia russo

(a/n : here’s less’s part of the dating you series! hope u enjoy xoxo)

stolen glances across the field, electrifying touches. love sick stares reserved only for you. sappy smiles and words only in the comfort of your own home, warm embraces that make you feel like you finally found your forever home.

i. surprise bouquets of flowers in a neat bundle on the dining table was alessia’s love languge.

you trudge home, having had a bad day at your office job with your colleagues incessantly nagging you at every turn. you’ve been texting alessia all day, her comforting you whenever she had a break from training. to your surprise, you see her duffle bag at home, not expecting her to be home before you. you look up after taking off your shoes to see a bouquet of flowers on the table, and you swore your heart melted right there. you picked up the bouquet of your favourite flowers, and in between the petals sat a note written in alessia’s handwriting.

“for you. xoxo.” times like these made you glad you are dating her, your mood instantly perking up.

ii. intimate touches that drive you insane are common occurrences whenever you come back home to one another.

“hope you didn’t wait too long my girl.” she comes up from behind you while you sat at the dining table. her hands settle around your shoulders, pressing delicate kisses behind your ears. she smiles against your skin when she feels your skin get hot, your hands tightening around her wrist.

“i will always wait for you lovely.” you reply, your lips reaching hers softly.

iii. being a woman is difficult, and when you were on your period, your emotions were all over the place. creaking open the door, alessia sees you in a lump on the bed with the covers over your head. she sighs, walking slowly towards you and sitting on the bed. your sniffles are now louder, your voice hoarse as you spoke. “what do you want.” alessia prays that you wouldn’t kill her for doing this, but she slowly pulls the covers off, and to her surprise you don’t resist.

your eyes were bloodshot, tear stains on your cheeks, face flushed. her heart breaks for you, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead. “should i do a quick run to the store to get chocolate for you?” she knew you loved chocolate, especially when you were sad. you think, and quickly nod, kissing alessia’s palm as thanks. she smiles and leaves the room, making sure to do a quick turn to look at you once more before leaving for the store.

when she got back, she saw you on the couch, hugging one of the pillows watching your favourite show. “here babe.” she passes you the chocolate and you light up, finally smiling after an entire day of being lumped in the bedroom. she smiles too, happy to see your grin once more.

iv. doing groceries together was always filled with chaos and laughter. attached to the hip with alessia pushing the trolley, she makes a sudden stop when she sees a food she hates with a burning passion. “who would buy that? its so gross.” she cringes as she picks up the can, looking at it in distaste.

“other people like it less.” you say, clearly amused.

“blah, blah, blah, other people like it less-“ she rolls her eyes and says, “yeah i know.” she pitches her voice higher and mocks you, causing you to laugh loudly in the midst of an aisle. you slap her arm and she giggles, placing back the can. you two continue to shop, stopping once to pull her away from the frozen food section when she saw two tubs of ice cream on sale even though you have three at home.

v. you always supported her at games, and being on different teams, you made sure to watch her play no matter what. you were always the loudest to shout in the stadium, wanting to make sure she knows that you’re there. “i love you alessia russo!” you scream, not caring that people were staring at you like you grew a third head. hearing this, alessia’s head snaps around to find your voice, finding you seated next to her mum wearing arsenal colours. her face flushes pink and her grin grows wider, sending a wink your way. she knows that you’re her lucky charm, always doing better when you’re watching.

vi. late night talks on the balcony was your favourite thing to come back to do with her. having similar schedules, she often came back minutes after you put down your things at home. you two would lounge on the balcony, sipping tea and talking about how each other’s days went. it was a simple routine, but it always felt right, basking in her presence in the cool nightly breeze.

vii. sharing music playlists was your love language. you always joke with her that you swore certain songs had to be written about her, only to have her blush and elbow you in the arm. its around mid day when she recieves a text from you. her face lights up when she sees that it’s a link to a playlist you made for her.

“hey baby, i was just thinking about you and these songs came to mind. love you.”

she smiles harder looking through the songs, one in particular catching her eye. “silk chiffon..” she plays it and boy does she fold. it made her feel unbelievably warm, thinking of your concentrated face adding all these songs to the playlist. songs that reminded you of her. she makes sure to get you a bouquet of flowers on the way home just to thank you.

©️northsoulss 2024, all rights reserved.

[staranghae]

better than the movies

summary. a new love blossoms between two people who could not be more different from each other. and no seungkwan, it is not because of your self-proclaimed 'stellar cupid skills', shut up!

pairing. cinephile! c.hs x bookworm! reader wc. 1.1k warnings. profanity, agggtm and its two sequels are movies in this. genre. crack, fluff, non-idol! au, intentional lowercase. a/n. this was requested by one of my very lovely moots and was a blast to write. @nonononranghaee hope you like it 🤍

you were browsing through the shelves of your local library looking for the sequel of the novel you had finished that afternoon.

you were growing increasingly desperate as you browsed shelf after shelf of the literature section but to no avail.

tired and miserable, you dragged yourself over to the librarian and asked her about the book,

"hello, do you have a copy of 'good girl, bad blood' by holly jackson?"

the librarian glances at you before going to her computer and looking through the library's online database. she turns to you with an apologetic smile before informing you the tragic news,

"i'm so sorry darling but someone checked it out just this morning."

your face visibly falls at her statement. the librarian, feeling a bit sorry for you, asks,

"i can put it on hold for you when it gets back if you'd like?"

you give her a somber smile before nodding your head.

you turn to leave but recall an incident that had taken place a few weeks ago at your place.

"seungkwan i swear to every god in the universe, if you don't give my book back i will suffocate you in your sleep, you sneaky little bitch!" you yell, chasing your best friend around your apartment as he maneuvers around your furniture, waving your book in the air.

he finally stops, standing on your futon while holding the book above his head and out of your reach.

"y/n listen. the deal is simple. agree to go on a blind date and i'll give you the book back. easy, right?"

you look at him incredulously before climbing on the futon and kicking him in the shin. not too hard, just enough so his knees would buckle. he immediately drops your book in favour of inspecting his now injured shin.

"this is what happens when you play with fire kwan. now i have a book to finish so get out!"

he mumbles something about 'stealing the sequel' before slamming your door shut on his way out.

you turn on your heel and go back to the librarian's desk. mustering up your courage, you ask her,

"may i know who checked it out? in case it's someone i know?"

she looks at you, a little confused, before turning to her computer. a few seconds later, she reads off of the screen,

"it seems a person by the name of 'boo seungkwan' has borrowed this book."

you chuckle under your breath, thank her, and storm out of the library furiously typing on your phone.

y/nie boo seungkwan!! when i fucking get you, its soo over for u. kwangerine y/n! what's got you like this at....2:13pm? y/nie idk kwan :| maybe it's the fact that you checked out the sequel to my book from the library:/ kwangerine ah so you found out :D welp, if you want it, come to heaven's cloud at 5:30 hehehe y/nie gremlin ass kwangerine :P

you sigh for what seems to be the millionth time today.

as you start walking towards your apartment, you make a mental note of everything you have to do today.

first, you have to pick up the laundry on the way to your apartment.

then, you have to go to heaven's cloud to murder seungkwan get your book back.

once back in your apartment, you decide to change before heading out to heaven's cloud. it wouldn't a very nice impression of you to go to your best friend's cafe clad in a concert tee and sweatpants.

you change into a dress and put on some light makeup before heading out.

the smell of coffee and vanilla envelops you as soon as you step into heaven's cloud cafe. you look around for seungkwan, but don't spot him.

but you DO spot his roommate, sitting in seungkwan's favourite spot holding your book, looking a bit...nervous?

you walk up to him and stand in front of him. when he doesn't notice you, you call him,

"vernon? did seungkwan send you?"

"y/n? you look...nice."

"thanks? you still haven't answered my question?"

he laughs a bit before gesturing for you to sit down. you sit in front of him as he starts to talk,

"so what happened is, i was watching the 'a good girl's guide to murder' movie right? seungkwan came in mumbling something about you being to engrossed in books to even have a social life."

you just roll your eyes at the perfect description of your best friend before telling him to continue.

"and then he looks at me and starts going off about how we're exactly like each other but also exact opposites."

"as in? what does that mean?"

"as in i wouldn't read a book to save my life and according to him, you would only watch a movie over your dead body. and-"

you interrupt him, knowing exactly where he was going with this.

"-and also. i'm a huge bookworm and you're a...movie connoisseur?"

he chuckles before answering you,

"well, the term is cinephile but yeah. a movie connoisseur of sorts."

"yeah whatever. and seungkwan thought it would be good idea to pull whatever he pulled and make this a date. am i right?"

he freezes up a bit before nodding slowly. you, on the other hand, did not know what to feel. had seungkwan done this because of how many times you had gushed to him whenever there was a opposites attract trope in your cheesy little romance novels, or had he finally figured out your yearlong crush on his extremely attractive roommate?

it is only after you finally look at vernon do you realise he had asked you a question. you smile sheepishly while asking him to repeat the question because you hadn't been paying attention.

he merely chuckles before repeating his question,

"were you not aware this was a date? because seungkwan told me you knew."

"nope. didn't have a clue."

"ah. you can leave if you want, i don't really mind."

you feel a pang of disappointment in your chest at his statement. you take a deep breath and work up the courage to ask him the one question you've been meaning to ask him for the past year.

"vernon. do you, perhaps, like me? like, romantically?'

vernon all but spits out his drink at your sudden question (or was it a confession?)

he regains his composure before answering you,

"yeah! i mean, yes uhm, i have liked you, for like, uhh a year at this point i think."

you audibly laugh at his stuttering and ask him the million dollar question.

"do you want this date to go on?"

sure, but only if we can go back to my place so i can tell you why the movie is better than the book."

"that is, quite literally, impossible but sure, also only if i can tell you, factually, that the book is always, and i mean always, better than the movies."

the two of you laugh at your statement and continue with the date. a few tables behind you guys, there was a very pleased human cupid sipping on his iced americano, eavesdropping on your guys' conversation every so often.

[fan-goddess]

Hello lovely xo, can I request Aemond reuniting with his childhood love/crush at a feast after not seeing her for six years.

Author Note: Hi love of course you can! I wrote so much more for this than I thought I was gonna write I really took of, plus after looking back at the request I didn’t make them meet at a feast… still I hope your happy!

Word count: 5.3K words

Warnings: None explicitly needed, though reader is described as being female, kissing stuff and insecurities

Other Links: My Ewan Mitchell masterlist for more Aemond content

Taglist: @blue-serendipity

—————

Aemond was one and ten when he first laid his eyes on you, the daughter of Tyland Lannister.

You had golden hair that resembled Sunfyres scales. Your eyes were green like grass. Oh and your smile, it could light over a thousand lanterns. He easily thinks the best part about you was that smile…

The first time Aemond saw you up close was in the library. He was researching Daenys’ prophecies when he heard a strange thumping noise go off within the shelves.

“Hello?” He called out. “Is anyone here?” An annoyed scowl taking over his face when no one showed up immediately to take credit. He went back to reading, though soon he became too on edge to even get past another sentence. What if there was actually a person hidden in the shelves and they wish to kill him?

Aemond put down his book and walked into the shelves, peeking round the corners to see if anyone lurked there. He looked for a couple minutes, shifting from his least favourite section the poetry books to his favourite the section on Targaryen history.

That’s however, when he sees golden hair peeking from the sides of the display. He doesn’t choose to call out to them, in fear the mysterious person will flee and he’ll never get to see them. Aemond slowly takes out his dagger and stalks towards the person, his heart beating rapidly at the possibility of a fight taking place.

When he turns the corner though, with his dagger held high and stance ready to take a fight, he feels his heart is about to burst from his chest when he sees you innocently sitting on the ground with a book in your lap. You seem to be asleep, as the pages aren’t being turned and your neck seems to have laid itself in an uncomfortable position.

He places his dagger back in its hold and kneels forward to take a look, and to see if you truly are sleeping. He nearly smiles when he sees how innocent you look in this view. Though Aemond knows he should not be jealous at that moment, and goes to wake you up as carefully as he can.

“M-my lady…” He all but whispers, gently taking the book from your lap. His restraint shows well as his hands attempt to not caress the skin that’s being revealed from your slightly ridden up skirt. “My lady, I think you need to wake now.” He uses one hand to gently shake your shoulder and the other to grasp your chin and pull your head up. His restraint is tested once more when his thumb nearly brushes over your lips.

Aemond is ever so grateful when you let out a small groan and groggily open your eyes. It’s almost amusing when your eyes turn panicked when you realise the situation you were in. “M-my prince I am so sorry!” You shout. Attempting to stand up but you nearly fall over in the struggle. “P-please do not punish me for being here!”

Aemond cannot help but give an amused smile at your panic. “It’s okay my lady!” He smiled, now standing up to be level with you only to embarrassingly realise you were taller then him… “What is it you were reading?”

You look confused now. Probably wondering why he isn’t kicking you out and demanding your head for sneaking in. “It is not a trick question my lady. What is you were reading?”

“I was reading about your own dragon my prince…” Aemond had to strain his ears to hear what you said, but when he does his ears turn scarlet. You were specifically looking at his dragon and not Sunfyre or Caraxes? Even the book of Balerions journey could’ve been the one you were reading about but no, you chose to look into Vhagar. It made him smile almost cockily.

“And why my dragon in particular?” He grinned. If his mother was there she’d not be happy he was fishing for compliments from a Lannister, yet she wasn’t here at that moment to see the pride that filled him so he carried on anyways.

“She’s an important part of your family’s history! Her nickname is Queen of the dragons which is one of the best names for any of the dragons both still alive and dead!” The way you ramble about his dragons makes his ears burn and smile somehow both bashful and yet cocky at the same time.

Aemond nearly invites you to go meet Vhagar the moment he sees you begin to smile at him, though it takes all his restraint to just talk to you about Vhagar. The two of you become more and more passionate in your conversation and continue to talk until the shelves become dark and nearly impossible to see.

Aemond insists on escorting you to your temporary chambers, secretly relishing when you insist bashfully that you could very easily escort yourself. “I insist my lady you do not know the sort of people that hang around in the corridors of this castle. My brother being one of them…” He relishes even more when he hears you giggle and shyly accept his offer.

The next morning though, when he’s washed himself thoroughly and dressed himself as fancy as he could without Aegon picking up on his intentions, Aemond walks to your chamber doors and knocks nervously. For all he knows you could be half dressed, or still asleep, or even taking a bath… He’s only half sorry when his mind begins to wonder.

Aemond does begin to worry when he stands outside of your chambers for nearly ten minutes and he hears no movements. He takes a deep breath before heading into your chambers, and takes notice of its near pristine state. “My lady?” He calls, even though he knew secretly that it was useless to call for you. He does a little walk around the room to see if he could tell why your presence seems to have left the room.

The sheets and the bed covers are pulled tightly and tucked into the bed. The personal items Aemond had managed to get a small peek at when he brought you to your room last night looking as if they were never their in the first place. The room looked as if nobody had ever slept their that night.

The lack of life in the room made Aemonds skin crawl. Maybe you weren’t even there in the first place? A cruel figment of his imagination that made him believe for a short time he was normal. So he went to the first person he thought could help. His mother.

“Mother, I visited the Lannister daughter this morn to invite her to break fast with us, but she was not there and her room was empty. Do you know why this is?”

“Yes my sweet boy. The girl and her father were summoned back to Casterly Rock near late last night. It seems the lady Lannister had started her labours earlier than the maesters would have liked.” His mother said, looking to her son in sympathy when she saw the saddened look on his face.

“Do you know if she- I mean if they’ll return when her mother has given birth?” Aemond could not help but try and be hopeful, even if he knew their was no chance of it being anything like that.

“I doubt it, sweet boy. The mother has gone into labour nearly a month earlier than expected. I highly suspect the babe may not survive, so they will no doubt wish to mourn the child if it does pass.”

Aemond tried to stop the frown that he could feel was stretching on his face, though it was no use. His mother had already seen it and was looking at him like he was weak. Like he was a silly boy with just a silly crush on a silly girl.

That was the moment Aemond devoted himself to leaving that silly boy behind. Soon he’ll become a man. Maybe it was all secretly so you’ll want to marry him just as much as he secretly wishes to marry you… but he’ll never admit to that.

It’s been six years since Aemond last saw you. He secretly writes letters to you every week, imagining you receiving them and holding them to your chest in excitement. He has never forgotten you. Late at night when he goes to sleep he secretly always wishes for dreams of you to keep him company. None that are dirty of course! Though Aemond didn’t complain when he had one every once in a while…

“Aemond did you hear what I just said?” His mothers voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“No mother I was thinking about, things.”

“Well, as I was saying. We will be hosting the Lannisters for a ball for their eldest daughter starting next week. Her father wishes for her to stay here in kingslanding for a year to give her a better chance at finding a potential and acceptable suitor for her. I believe she’s around your age Aemond...” Aemond could feel his heart beating out of his chest. You were coming back here? He’ll finally get to see you again and see how much you’ve no doubt changed after all these years…

“A marriage with the Lannisters will no doubt be helpful in the long run. I suggest talking to her before anyone else. Her house is a useful ally, though her father will no doubt attempt to go for whoever possess the larger coin pouch.” His grandsire commented halfheartedly as he tucked into his food. Aemond only gave a simple nod before retreating back to his mind, indulging in the simple fantasy of seeing you again.

The rest of that week, Aemond could not take you out of his mind. He had not acted like this since you left six years ago, and it was easy to tell. He was less enthusiastic in his training with ser Cole, thinking of how when you were his bride you’d be sitting proudly on the balcony watching him. He couldn’t read peacefully in the library, only thinking back to how he first met you and how much you truly made him smile that day.

Thankfully to Aemond though the week went surprisingly quickly, and before Aemond knew it he was standing proudly yet nervously for your carriage to pull up and for you to come out.

He’d put on fresh clothes that morning and requested to have a bath drawn for him. He took an awful long time making sure every single part of him was clean and that his hair held no sweat or grease of any kind. Aemond could not shake the look of amusement from both Aegon and his mother, both taking notice of Aemonds sudden pristine condition and nervous exterior.

When the carriage carrying your house colours arrived, Aemond felt like his heart would beat out of his chest. Would you even recognise him? Would you even be the same girl he met and talked to all those years ago?

Aemond nearly lets his mouth fall open when you walk out of the carriage, and only just catches the actions before he could embarrass himself anymore than Aegon will no doubt bring upon them.

Your hair still holds the same golden colouring to it, the sun looking like it was reflecting off it. Your figure has quite obviously changed in the years you were gone, the most prominent ones being the fact you’ve… matured. It’s almost amusing to him that you’re shorter than him, when before you were the one who looked down at him as children. Your smile though, that has not changed at all.

He sees the way Aegon leers at you when you curtsy to his mother and thank her for his families hospitality. It brings him such a great amount of joy to kick Aegon swiftly and firmly in the legs when your back is turned talking to Helaena.

Over the next few days, as much as Aemond hates to admit it, he has been hiding from you. Aemond cannot bring himself to strike up a conversation with you, possibly due to a fear that he refuses to acknowledge.

Though he cannot deny the jealousy that takes over him when he sees you laughing with Aegon of all people. When you laugh, you hold your hand in front of your mouth, a trick taught to all young ladies according to Helaena. Though he believes it to be a terrible thing, as it hides the way your face lights up when you’re overcome by laughter.

Aemond even finds himself jealous of Helaena, who you seemed to have grown close to in the last few days. From what he has observed, the two of you like to sit under the tree in the courtyard and discuss a whole manner of items Aemond cannot hear from where he observes on a nearby balcony.

He’s disgusted with himself for acting like some common man, though even though he knows it’s morally wrong he still cannot bring himself to stop. As long as he cannot bring himself to talk to you, he watches you to bring himself a strange sort of comfort. To know that you are okay and safe and nowhere near himself.

Though it seems that you have been upholding a different idea, as one moment when Aemond is looking at you talking with Helaena, he sees you turn to him, look him dead in the eye and show him a kind smile. He can feel his eye widen in the sudden acknowledgement and hide behind a nearby pillar. It brings secret relief to hear your giggle. Assuring him that you are not disgusted as he is in his nature, and that instead you are amused by it for some unknown reason…

Aemond looks around the corner, expecting to see you resuming your conversation with another one of your beautiful smiles on your face, though he is scared nearly out of his skin to find you face to face with himself. It takes him a near minute to find words. No amount of words that he had read over the years seemed to come to him no matter how much he willed it.

“I-I’m sorry for intruding on you my lady Lannister!” He stammered with a bright red face. Aemond does not think he has ever felt as sheepish or as shy as he has at that moment. His face only reddens though when you seem to giggle at him, whether in amusement or in mocking he does not know.

“It is fine my prince.” You smile. Aemond cannot help himself from comparing your voice to the one you possessed as a child. It’s gotten lighter, he thinks. Before you seemed to be shy to talk to him, though that may have been more to do with circumstances rather than who you were talking to, and now your voice held a sense of ease. “Me and your sister were merely nibbling on some honey cakes and talking about the silly things? Would you care to join us?”

When he takes too long to respond, purely out of surprise that you wished for him of all people to join you, you seem to have taken his silence in the wrong context. “You do not have to join if you do not wish to participate in silly lady gossip-“

“Nonsense!” Aemond blurts with a shyness that brings him nearly straight back to his boyhood. “I would be honoured to join a lady such as yourself my lady for what you called, silly lady gossip.” Aemond cannot describe the joy he feels when he sees your reddened cheeks and happy smile. It should be you the painters should be painting, not himself when there’s such obvious other beauties in this world.

The roles are reversed however, when you take his hand in your own and lead him to where you and Helaena were previously conversing. It takes every fibre of his being to not send a cold glare in Helaenas direction. Especially when she sends an amused look and a raised eyebrow his way at the sight of his flushed cheeks and awkward expression.

It surprises Aemond though, when he finds himself enjoying what he had thought would be a dreary conversation. It brings a smile to his face when he makes you laugh so hard you forget to put your hand in front of your face. He even nibbles politely on a couple of the fresh honey cakes you offer him bashfully.

When the supposed picnic is over, Aemond is prepared for you to go off with Helaena and leave him. Though it surprises him when Helaena says her goodbyes, claiming she has a duty she needs to fulfil, and you turn to him with a small sheepish smile. “Do you wish to head to the library with me, my prince? I feel it has been an age since we had a conversation.”

It brings every part of him to answer normally. “I would love to my lady.” With a small smile. One that he doesn’t think he’s ever displayed to anyone else outside his family. He’s delighted that you also share a similar blush that’s painted across both of your cheeks.

Aemond wishes he could start a conversation with you. Though whenever he turns to you all he finds himself doing is turning straight back to the corridor looking straight ahead.

When he and you get to the library, he shyly holds the door open for you to go first. Delighted in the slight blush that appeared at his politeness. He notices how you seem to look around in awe and is delighted that you seem to hold the same love for books as you did as children.

“The library has expanded since the years you have been gone, my lady. I believe near a few hundred couple books were added since.” Aemond smirked. It was a strange get definitely not an unwelcome sight to see someone be as passionate about literature as he did. It easily became a bore when he had to handle people like his brother, who he doubted at this point of his life could even read at all…

“It’s still as beautiful as it looked the last time I saw it…” You whispered, looking at him in an awe. Aemond cannot help himself from wishfully thinking that you were saying that to him. That you’d whisper into his ear how you believe he’s beautiful even after all those years apart.

He’s soon knocked from those blissful thoughts when a pain hits his eye socket and he hisses lightly, gaining your attention. “Are you alright my prince?” You asked in concern, moving to be before him.

“It is alright my lady…” Aemond hisses. “It’s merely a side effect of my deformity…”

“Is there any way I could help?” Aemond could not help but look up at you to see if you were genuine, and by the way you anxiously held a hand to his shoulder and knelt down to him to get a look at his injury he felt like you were.

“I have a balm which the maesters found to help when the pain flared like this…” Aemond cannot help himself from confessing. It felt so strange and unnatural to be talking so freely about his ailment with another person. Though you weren’t just another person. It was you. “It should be in my left breech pocket. If you would be so kind as to grab it for me, my lady, I can apply it myself.”

Aemond attempts to hide the way he gulps when he feels your warm hands on his thighs, fumbling to find the small tube containing the balm. It probably would’ve been more effective if he had told you what the balm was in, though at that moment he cannot stop himself from indulging in your touch as you modestly fumble for it. Even when you do find the tube and remove your hands from him he finds himself missing that small warmth. “Thank you, my lady.” He murmurs, releasing his hold on his eye to unscrew the tube lid.

He’s about to apply it to his eye, when Aemond realises something vital about the process. He’d need to take off his eyepatch, and you’re still in the room watching him concerned. “I’m about to take my eyepatch and I don’t wish for you to be disgusted and feel like you need to watch this…” Aemond cannot bring himself to look at you, in fear you’ll look as disgusted at the mention of looking at him without his patch.

He’s brought out of his self pity though when he feels a sudden warmth on his cheek. Your hand. It’s almost embarrassing the way his cheeks suddenly flush at the realisation.

“I don’t care about your scar, my prince. I have seen far worse from my brothers in the training field.” You smile. The blush on his cheeks does not seem to want to leave, though by the matching colouring that appears on your own cheeks he’s glad.

“You do not need to continue calling me my prince, my lady. You can call me by my name.”

“Okay Aemond. Then I must then insist you call me by mine.”

“If you say so Daena. Though like I said, if you truly do not wish to see my ailment then I suggest you turn away now…” Aemond cannot help himself from near preening at the honour of saying your name out loud in your presence.

“And like I said to you Aemond, you strike no such thing as disgust nor fear in me. In fact, I think I’d dare say what it is you strike me with are the exact opposite.” You smile, not realising just how effective your words were affecting him. Maybe if he was braver, then he would’ve asked exactly what you meant by that. But he didn’t. Instead, Aemond removed his eyepatch and applied the balm to his eye, before covering the area once more and acting like the moment never happened.

Over the next few days, Aemond spent all he could with you, abandoning all his previous plans so he could see you and make you smile. It still brought a chill down his spine to hear you speak his name while you smile and place a delicate hand on his arm. This new pattern that Aemond has developed though is broken, when he heads to your usual spot to find you conversing with Aegon. Or more accurately, Aegon conversing with you while you looked uncomfortable. It only gets worse when Aegon spots him marching towards him.

“Ahh brother! I was just telling lady Lannister all about the pink dread!” Aegon smiled with a cup of some unknown substance. Aemond felt his heart stop in panic. He does not dare to look in your direction, in fear he will see pity within your sweet green eyes. Aemond does not even dare to utter a response to Aegon’s taunt, leaving with his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he feared if he wasn’t clutching his hands, he’d be clenching his fists and punching Aegon’s face till it was shining red with blood.

When Aemond arrives in the library, he attempts to distract himself from his horrid self-pity by rereading one of his favourite pieces of literature, Valyrian dragons and where to find them. A fantastic book playing on both fiction and non. He becomes so enamoured with the writing he does not hear the doors open and delicate footsteps coming towards him. It’s only until he hears a small cough he looks up only to meet your eyes.

“Hello Lady Lannister. What brings you here? Has my brother either bored you of my childhood sorrow or run out of stories to tell?” Aemond scoffs, returning to the page on Dreamfyre.

“I though I told you to call me by my name Aemond?” You said, not moving from your spot.

“Apologies Daena. Tell me, did you enjoy when my brother was telling you tales of how he humiliated me as a boy?” Aemond closes the book, marking the page with a random piece of paper before looking at you.

“No, I must confess I did not. If I am to put it plainly and honestly Aemond, I believe your brother to be an absolute pest and a prat.” Aemond let’s a scoff of laughter at your unladylike language, though it certainly is correct.

“I cannot agree more with you Daena. It’s a surprise my brother has even lived till now. I believe any day well here such sad news on Aegon dying in some brother or ale house. Maybe both if he’s lucky?” Aemond cannot describe the joy he’s feeling, nor can he begin to fathom just how much his heart is racing.

“I think I walked about not long after you did. It took everything in me to not strike him there and then. Especially after seeing how unhappy you seemed to become when he mentioned that pink dread.” Aemond once again looks away at the mention of that dreaded tale. He cannot bring himself to see the pity once more than used to fill so many eyes at the sight of him.

“Do you, do you feel disgust for me? Or even pity?” Aemond murmurs so quietly he didn’t even know if you had truly heard him until you knelt down to be level with him.

“Aemond, I feel a lot of things for you. None of them are anything of the sort that could be even compared to disgust or pity.” You smile again and Aemond feels like his heart will burst from his chest. If you requested it at that moment, Aemond would’ve ripped his heart out then and there and handed it to you on a plate made of pure Valyrian steel. It takes everything in him to swallow the lump in his throat and speak. “May I ask what these emotions you feel for me are? The ones that you claim cannot be compared to disgust, or pity…”

“The feelings I feel for you Aemond are ones that I do not think I am even allowed to tell you of…”

“I do not care,” Aemond now almost desperately grasps onto your hands within his own. He is so close to possibly hearing what he has wanted for more than six years. Your love. “I would kill any who dare to oppose you sweet Daena.”

“You are beginning to sound like your ancestor Maegor the cruel Aemond.”

“It is worth the title and the bloodshed if I am to hear what I hope to hear be uttered from your lips.”

“And what is it you wish uttered from my lips?”

“That you feel a fraction of the same way I feel for you…” Aemond can feel his heart beat from his chest. The library has gone silent. A notion he used to enjoy but now hates more than ever. “Please Daena. Tell me what it is you feel for me so I can no longer feel like my heart is beating straight out of my chest when I see you! So I can no longer think of you as I have been doing for the last six years you have been gone! So I can leave you and never bother you again with my unrequited devotion for you…”

Once again the library’s silence becomes overwhelming as Aemond stares at you in both hope and fear. Your face does not betray you, staring only blankly at the intertwined hands of yours and his.

“What I feel for you Aemond, I think in all the books we have both read and the stories we have shared amongst each other, can only be described as pure devotion to you and only you…” This is when your face reveals a sweet sweet smile that sends Aemonds own face into a blood red blush. “I too thought of you, nearly everyday since my departure. Of that sweet boy who listened to me while I rambled on about a topic he already know plenty of yet still craved for more. That sweet boy who insisted on walking me to my chambers even though he did not have to. That sweet boy, who has grown into such a handsome man, that I think my heart grew fonder the moment I saw you when I stepped from my carriage. I must say though, I was disappointed that you did not send any letters to me in all these years.” You seem to jest.

“I didn’t want you to think of me as an eager boy and a prat…” Aemond reveals with a slight blush, looking down at the ground. It only worsens when he feels you take a hand from his grip and place it on his left cheek to tilt his head up. “I could never think of you like that my sweet Aemond…” He feels his face grow to a deeper red as it spreads all over. He can even feel his ears burning. He stays content in your hold though, Aemond does not think he has ever felt safer in your grasp than he ever felt in his life.

“I do not know if you read those sorts of books, Aemond,” You begin to speak, drawing Aemond from his daze. “But when I was younger and read those old romantic books where the man got the girl he loved, he’d always kiss her…” You grin. Aemond reciprocates it fully, picking up on your definitely not so subtle suggestion.

“Are you suggesting sweet Daena I kiss an unmarried woman in this very room, where there is no one but us?”

“No no my darling,” Aemond can feel his heart go mad at the name you give him. “I am simply asking you to kiss the woman who loves you back with all her heart.”

“Then I guess I have to make my darling love happy then.” Aemond wastes no time in reaching forward to grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. He relishes in the giggles you make for a moment before colliding his lips with your own.

It’s an awkward moment at first, since the two of you have never done this before, but eventually Aemond finds a pace that suits him and you. He finds himself letting out a deep groan from his throat when he tastes your sweet lips for the first time, the taste of strawberries and cherries overcoming his senses. That groan is released once more when he feels your hand make a place for itself in his hair and holding him firmly, Aemonds own hands staying in a near iron grip on your waist.

It is a great shame when he is forced to pull away from you, though he does get the great view of your swollen lips, red cheeks and panting form. “I believe I should talk to your father so I can get his permission to marry you, my sweet girl.” Aemond speaks, a hand removing itself from your waist to go to your face and stroke your warm cheek fondly.

“You truly wish to marry me?” You whisper, making Aemond raise a brow in surprise. “Of course I do. I would not be kissing you and finally confessing my love for you if I didn’t. Besides, the servants will no doubt talk if they are to see us alone here together and I would not wish to besmirch your honour like that.”

“I think that supposed honour left the moment your lips kissed my own…” You smile.

“Mine left the moment you smiled at me when we were children. I’ve never cared for another woman since… Are you truly happy? That I am to hopefully marry you?” Aemond asks, that insecurity creeping back in.

“Of course I am happy, my sweet boy.” You stroke the edge of his scar with your thumb and for the first time Aemond does not immediately jerk away at the contact. For once, he does not feel so ugly. For once he feels wanted and loved. “I would have no one else but you in my arms to love and cherish.”

[temptress-writes]

🪩 Disco Snow

A/N: soft, groovy seventies Harry.

C.W: DRUG USE. Just my usual nasty shit. Rough, spanking, choking, drug use, spit kink.

Word Count—6.8k

Enjoy x

* * *

Miami 1977.

Chemicals.

Blow.

Tangy, burning, and exciting.

They infiltrate your mind as you bend over the marble countertop in your kitchen.

You slowly come to a stand, wiping your left nostril. You feel your nose tingle and seep into a numbness you know will soon mirror in your throat.

Amber gently bumps your hip, taking the rolled-up bill from your fingers and smoothing out the line of powder laid out for her. She snorts it with a sigh of relief, straightening and flicking a smile your way.

"Feels groovy, huh?"

You roll your head back with a grin, feeling the buzz in your veins already. "So good."

"Let's go, disco chic!"

Miami. A bustling city with a nightlife that thrills you. A deep contrast to the person you are during more acceptable hours.

For tonight, you switched out your sleepwear for your favourite orange bell-sleeved mini dress. Your feet are settled into your white knee-high platform boots.

Amber's done your makeup in hues of emerald green, and orange lipstick to match your attire. She fiddles with the hem of her blue mini dress as you hail a cab to the curb and set on your way to the club.

The Hall of Mirrors.

A club infamous for its disco music, great alcohol, and acceptance for anyone. It's where you frequently go to have a good night, much like most in the city. It's where anyone of any sex could go and rely on the building to hold their secrets. Withhold judgment.

The Hall of Mirrors is no stranger to your secrets. To your nights of sneaking down dark hallways and slipping to your knees for a man, or into a supply closet to taste a woman on your mouth. Tripped out on pills or lines of snow.

The music calls to you before you even go in. The bouncer knows you well, allowing you entry without so much as a second glance. The club is packed, which isn't unusual. The collection of disco balls hang from the ceiling, the strobe lights reflecting tiny fragments of light from them. They bounce across every inch of skin, every section of the walls. The pattern heightens your sense of lucidity, red, pink, and purple semi-circular wallpaper that you know will begin to distort as the night progresses.

And as if you need a reminder of how much you're dying for a drink, you taste the stark sugar slipping down your throat. With a grimace at the strong taste of it, you pull Amber to the bar.

Cameron, one of the bartenders, waves at you, mouthing your usual? You nod, pleased when she places two gin and tonics on the bar top in front of you and Amber.

It's all feels like a blur. It always does during the buildup. The drive to the club, the quenching of thirst with gin. The night doesn't truly start until you're on the dance floor.

"Bottoms up, chic!" Amber yells over the bass of the music.

You cheer your glasses together and down the contents. The ice clinks against your teeth, but your gums are so numb you barely feel it.

"Let's show these bitches who own the dance floor!"

The two of you squish and squeeze past dancers to get to the middle, soon finding a rhythm along to The Hustle. Unashamed, you yell out the words, swaying and throwing your best moves her way.

You can feel the effects start to energise your body. The way it seems to make you feel unstoppable, sexy, otherworldly.

You wrap your arms around Amber's neck, letting her turn in your hold and rub against you. In any other setting, this would harbour attention from others that one could only deem as judgmental. But not here. Not in the Hall of Mirrors. Here you are free and open.

It's a sensation of effortlessness. You feel limitless. One with the music, one with every soul in the building. After a parade of songs, you and Amber pull away from the dance floor and slip into the bathroom, refreshing the buzzing high in your veins before heading back out.

And then you see him. It's an eerie sort of feeling. It's a dance floor, it doesn't necessarily have the best lighting and there are so many people. But it's almost as if you're meant to see him. A flash of light illuminates his existence momentarily before the strobe fades away and appears elsewhere.

What you notice first are curls. Dripping waves parted in the middle of his head that spiral along his forehead, sticking to the skin with perspiration. A jeweled hand comes up to brush them away from his vision before he erupts in a dimpled smile at his friend. Even from here, you can make out the shape of his bunny teeth.

And then he spins in a circle and throws some finger guns. From there, your exploration veers south. A low-cut black tank top, exposing two swallows fluttering their wings against his chest, a cross pendant nestled safely between them.

His broad shoulders sport more ink and your eyes dart across every bare inch of skin and you spot a smattering of tattoos along his arms.

As if to contrast his more intimidating attire, from the hips down is bubblegum pink. Flared pants that hug his hips and accentuate the length of his legs. He lifts his leg, the bell-bottoms sharing a glimpse of his footwear. Patent black leather books with an impressive heel. Already so tall and towering, you admire how he's wearing them as a fashion statement and nothing more.

He holds his friend's hands, arching them high in the air before swirling his hips and yelling along to the song. His friend, lanky and shaggy-haired, pulls away and gives his best shot at the robot.

Amber clicks her fingers in front of you. "You good?"

You blink, steering your vision away from him and back to her. "Yeah, buzzing now!"

And you dance like no one is watching. You try to drive your attention away from the man who clearly hasn't seen you.

Sweaty. Hot. Snow.

Your body feels like a live wire, the music thrumming in your veins.

Your feet are throbbing but you don't care. Your vision floats back to the man and a sense of delight washes over you at the sight of him. He's closer to you now, bumping his hips to the song. Your brows raise when he grinds his bum up against a man's crotch.

Amber doesn't question when you inch towards him. It's subtle, and you keep dancing and swaying and singing.

You look up at him again and every cell in your body freezes. He's looking at you. And there's this moment when your eyes lock that the music fades. Like a bubble encases you and almost mutes it. It's very brief but still so staggering.

Suddenly, you're all bubblegum and curls.

His lips curl up into a devastatingly beautiful smile at you. He's still dancing, you're still dancing. But you're smiling at each other and suddenly bubblegum flares and chocolate curls are moving towards you. He slips past people and your dancing doesn't slow as he approaches.

Amber, so out of it and not picking up on the interaction, leeches to a man next to her and swirls her hips against him.

Up close, the man is even more stunning. Your eye line is at his chest and you spy a light dusting of hair and a film of sweat.

He grins down at you and your cheeks blush bubblegum.

"Who can do the best sprinkler?" He asks you, having to yell over the music. His accent is deep and wispy. Of course, the man with one of the most daring outfits in the joint would be British.

"Oh, it's definitely me." You offer with a sultry smile.

"Confident..." He nods, resting his hands on his hips. "I like that."

"What, you think you can out-dance me?"

He throws you a playful glare, waiting for the chorus of the song to drop before throwing his arm around in a sprinkler movement. His other hand around his head while the sprinkler, jeweled fingers, splay towards you.

And you can't help but giggle, hiding it behind your hand but the glint in your eyes is far too telling. His expression of pure joy dropping into one of unamused horror.

"Let's see it then, foxy."

You laugh, shaking your limbs out and showing off your best sprinkler move. He sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly. You wrinkle your nose and shrug your shoulders up at the piercing sound.

"We have a winner!" He shouts, hands waving through the air and alarming a few people around you. You lightly shove at his chest, your cheeks hurting from laughing so much. "Does the sprinkler queen have a name? The people need to know."

You feel very shy, suddenly. As if the influence of the power has been overshadowed by him. You give him your name, not missing the way his lips curl around the letters as he recites it to you.

"'M Harry."

Harry. Smooth. Bubblegum.

"It's nice to meet you."

His fingers come up to toy with the flared sleeve of your dress. "Love the threads."

You gesture to his pink pants. "Yours, too."

He clicks his tongue, grabs your hand, and spins you in a circle. "You flatter me. Let's throw some shapes, foxy lady!"

You grab his hands, encouraging him to shimmy with you. He's a great dancer. Tall and unashamed, moving his body without thought and doing the most ridiculous dance moves. You feel so hot and you're not sure if it's because of him, the dance floor, or the snow you snorted before.

Harry spins on his heels, forming peace signs with his fingers and waving them in front of his eyes. You mirror him with a grin and he admires the way the disco ball reflects off your face and ignites your beauty. He feels like he's been kicked in the chest. What started as a chill night out and a boogie became so much more once he saw you.

Your orange dress, tangerine and inviting. Your green eyeshadow, an exotic lagoon he's lost in.

He brings you closer, pressing you flush against his body and moving his hips with yours. His hands squeeze at your hips and if this were any other man, you'd be slapping his touch away.

But Harry is soft and colourful. Endlessly endearing. You can tell he's confident and sure of himself and that's probably the sexiest thing about him. Aside from his bare chest and tattoos. And his hair. And his smile.

"You skiing the snow tonight, little fox?"

You nod, your head feeling like a bobblehead on your neck. Your spine is tingling and the way he's looking at you is making every limb feel like jelly.

He grips the side of your neck, holding you close and resting his forehead on yours. It happens so quickly but he's so confident and you're so comfortable so you don't mind.

"Keep a lookout, yeah?"

You give him another nod. You're always so sure of yourself and now this one particular stranger is leaving you speechless. But what else can you say?

He slips his fingers into his tight tanktop to produce a small clear bag from the confines. He wiggles his brows at you and looks around you briefly before opening it up.

It's unlikely anyone would be sober enough to cause a problem with it. But he's more avoiding drawing attention to it because people will flock to him for a hit.

He thumbs the bag open, his eyes lifting to meet yours before he throws you a wink. Lifting the pendant sat between his defined pecs, he gathers a small mound of snow on the longest bar of the cross.

"Ladies first."

The chain being around his neck means he can only bring it so far to you. You lean forward, pressed right up against him, and nudge your face up so you can snort the prepared powder.

You sigh through a smile as it seeps into your bloodstream. It refreshes your high. Your energy unmatched as you start to dance to the music again. But this time it's right up against him, his core tucked up against you. Bubblegum and snow.

His hand reaches out to wipe a bit of excess power decorating the edge of your nose with a soft giggle. He gathers his own smidgen of power and snorts it before putting the bag away.

And then you're dancing. Your ass works in sweet little circles against his crotch and you rest your head back on his chest, looking up at him to let him know. Let him know that you feel him against you, growing for you.

Hard bubblegum.

Melting snow.

He twirls you, bringing his hands onto your shoulders and using his feet to find a beat with the music. More Than a Woman starts playing and you both let out excited yells. He pulls you into him again. He can't help but spin you so your ass is against him. He wraps his arms around you, your hands tangling with his where they meet at your chest.

When you start grinding back on him, his hands melt down to your hips to roll them back. Gooey bubblegum.

You watch him, his hair parted in the middle with curls falling down his forehead. He smiles down at you, a slow, lip curling, dimple encased smile. It's earth-shatteringly beautiful and when he licks his lips, you feel it resonate directly between your thighs.

His hand comes up, running up your sternum and to your throat. He can feel your heart beating under the skin, fluttering just as severely as his is. His fingers grip your chin and he leans down. His nose brushes yours and your ass presses deliciously firm against his crotch and then you really feel him.

Your eyes flicker from his, down the strong line of his nose and to his lips. Bubblegum pink, plump, and inviting.

He lets out a soft moan and then he's kissing you. It's soft at first as if gauging your reaction. Maybe he's seeing how you like it. If you want it rushed. If you want it slow and patient and controlled.

Your hand wraps around his neck to hold him there and you open your mouth to flick your tongue against his lower lip. His comes out to meet yours and he tastes phenomenal. Like vodka and cranberry juice and lust.

Harry turns you in his hold and grips your ass in two strong hands. He hauls you upwards until your center is against his. He's hard and even through his pants, you can feel the impressive size of him.

The chorus seems to mirror the newly found excitement in two souls. Climaxing and exciting. You're dancing as if it's your love language. Melting into one person and obsessed with how his body feels against yours.

You can't help but kiss him again, obsessed with the way his lips cradle your bottom one. The way he nibbles on it a little bit. The way he moans against you and screws his hips up to you.

Your eyes open to meet his and over his shoulder, you can see Amber giving you an enthusiastic thumbs up.

His finger comes up to brush your lower lip before he kisses you again with a needy hum. You're not even thinking when you grab his hand and pull him towards the bathroom. You only register his warmth and his arousal and how you want to be closer to it.

He can sense your urgency, and you're both high as shit, two pairs of boots clicking against the floor. You're giggling messes of arousal as you lure him towards the bathrooms and try to find an empty one. There's a powder room, which seems all too fitting. It's deep mint green, luxurious for such a small space. The walls are orange swirls that wave in your vision.

You drag him in and close the door, automatically flipping the lock but he raises a brow when you unlock it again. His curls are askew, your orange lipstick in smudges on and around his mouth.

"Risky move, little fox."

"Shut up."

You're kissing him again. You press him up against the sink, his dick hard against you. He moans as you suck on his tongue and pull him as close as you can get him. His arms wrap around you, his hands fisting the material of your dress at the small of your back. It lifts, scrunching up and exposing your ass.

He grips the bare skin on his hands, rolling your center up against his. His fingers dip between your cheeks, slipping forward until he's brushing your clothed cunt with his fingertips.

You release a soft whimper and roll your warmth along his touch. You're already so wet, you can tell. And so can he.

But before he can explore any further, you're dropping to your knees. Harry swears under his breath as you palm him through his bubblegum pants, so hard and ready for you. You stare up at him, his pupils dilated from the snow and from you.

You pop the single button and pull the zipper down, suddenly not feeling very patient. Your attempt to inch them down so you can play with him further is stunted.

"These are so tight."

He offers a sweet little laugh into the air, pulling his pants down for you, his rings clinking as he does so.

When you finally set your eyes on him, it's then that you feel intimidated for the first time. He's not wearing underwear and for some reason, that alone is already so fucking hot. He's huge. In every aspect. In width, in length. The tip of him is the same colour of his lips, a rosy hue deepening the more turned on he's getting.

You slide forward, wrapping your hand around him. He's silky, smooth, and hot in your palm. You drag your fist up, a drop of pre-come pearling at the tip. You flick your tongue out against it, tasting the saltiness on your taste buds.

Harry groans at the sight of you on your knees for him. He bends down, cupping your chin and angling you up so he can kiss you. He tastes himself on your tongue and he spreads his hand along your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb.

"Keep going."

His expression is one of lustful encouragement as he straightens and you envelop the head in your mouth with a suck. You use your hand to work the skin, spreading the wetness from your mouth down his shaft.

You take him deeper, allowing yourself to become fully immersed in pleasing him. His hand tangles in your hair, guiding your mouth up and down his shaft.

He moans, deep and dirty and you feel it between your legs. He emits a soft sigh as you take him fully, your nose pressed against his abdomen. You can feel the hair there tickle your skin and you retract and start bobbing against him.

The bass of the music conceals the questionable sounds you're making and Harry's hand tightens in your hair as you work him. He rolls his head back on his neck, feeling the tingling in his spine sharpen and bridge out to every limb, every nerve.

Your mouth is searing hot and wet around him, your tongue caressing the underside of his dick. You struggle around the fullness of him but the way he's looking at you spurs you on. He feels amazing, the way he guides you, pushes you further but never past your unspoken boundaries.

You hold him in the back of your throat and the sound he gives you is almost a growl. It's low, derived from his chest and so fucking desperate. Using his hold on your hair, he pulls you back. You've made a mess of him and yourself. Orange lipstick smudges and your spit.

"Come here, little fox."

You stand, stumbling a little in your heels but he spins you and sits you on the countertop. Your dress slips high up your thighs and he squeezes at them. His touch slides higher and he hisses as he meets the lace of your panties.

Your hand comes down to meet his, encouraging it higher. Closer to where you need him. Harry kisses you, one hand on the side of your neck, the other up your dress.

And suddenly, it's like neither of you can wait anymore. You pull him towards you as he slips your panties down your legs, hanging from one ankle. His kisses move from your lips, a messy trail down your chin, your neck, the swell of your breasts.

Then he's kneeling in front of you, his gaze on yours before it slowly slips between your legs. You're saturated for him and his staring is so fucking intimate. He can't wait to taste you, to feel you.

His hand raises, his thumb brushing your clit. Your thighs tense as he rubs slow circles like he's winding you up. His thumb ventures south and parts your folds, collecting your wetness there and dragging it back up to your clit.

You let out a soft whimper as his pressure deepens. The added moisture from your arousal feeling somehow sweeter in addition to how he's touching you.

"Pretty thing." He coos, looking back up at you.

He withdraws his thumb and sucks it into his mouth with a hum. Without breaking eye contact, he lowers his head and flicks his tongue ever so gently against your sensitive clit.

You sway your hips up at the slight bit of attention, already desperate for more. He licks up your slit, fully tasting you and closing on your clit in a kiss. You gasp and take a fistful of his hair as he works your cunt with his mouth.

He moves lower, tonguing your entrance and slipping it inside of you while his nose buries itself against your clit.

He shakes his head from side to side, fully absorbed in you. He eats you out so intensely. An enthusiasm you've ever felt from another partner. You look down and his eyes are closed, fully enjoying his head between your legs where he's tasting you.

You pull his hair harder and he moans, the vibrations from it sent throughout your lower half.

Harry raises a finger to his mouth, sucking it past his lips to get it nice and wet. And then he slides it inside of you, flicking it up in a hook to press against your g-spot. Your spine straightens at the sensation, and he slips another finger alongside it. You whine out his name as he pulls the tips of his fingers along your sweet spot, pulsing them and building you up to your release.

He moves his whole arm with blinding speed, the pleasure increasing rapidly. No one has ever made you feel this way, a bliss so deep. He knows exactly what he's doing and he knows how insanely good he's got you.

He looks up at you and gives you the cockiest smirk before sucking on your clit. His teeth nibble on it gently before he traps it between them and flicks his tongue along it. You throw your head back, collapsing against the mirror.

Harry pulls you up, spinning you so you're bent over the counter with your ass perked back. He eats you this way, spreading you open to him and pressing his mouth tight against you. His nose is buried inside you, his tongue against your clit again and he slaps your ass. It's a mild slap but you moan nonetheless.

"Again." You gasp out, so close to coming and addicted to him.

"You're a dirty little fox, aren't you?" He spanks you again. Harder.

You turn and look at him. "Is that all you got?"

He breaths out a laugh and buries his face against your cunt once more, spanking the opposite cheek, hard. And then your lower thigh, right below your ass. The sting is softened by how beautiful his mouth is against you. He finds your clit again to drill his tongue on it.

"I'm close," You reach back, taking a fistful of curls and hold him there.

"That's it," He coos against you. "Come all over my face."

Your orgasm is an eruption of euphoria. Searing hot pink that melts into bubblegum pop. You cry out his name, your entire body going lax against the counter as you fucking shake.

His mouth never lets up, letting you ride through the pleasure of your orgasm. His mouth is slow to leave you as you come down, his lips kissing the skin of your ass.

You're not expecting it when his hands leave your ass all too quickly. You watch him in the mirror as he retrieves his little bag.

"Stay still." He orders. He taps powder onto your ass, right over a handprint he's left. He ensures the line is relatively straight with his finger, one that he soon after gives you to suck the powder off. And he snorts the line he's prepared, licking the residue off your ass with a devilish smile.

And, for good measure, he slaps you again.

You bite your lip to stifle a giggle, reaching back and wrapping your hand around his dick. You work his shaft and he staggers in a couple of steps closer. The tip of him nudges your ass, his pre-come kissing your skin and leaving it wet.

He moans, moving to grip your hips and fully standing behind you. His cock brushes between your legs and you whimper at the anticipation of feeling him even more.

"You want me to fuck you, sweet fox?"

"Yes,"

"Where are your manners?" He's teasing you now. You both know there's no way he's not fucking you.

He's just making you simmer in the heat he's stirred up.

"Please fuck me, Harry."

He loves how your name sounds leaving your mouth. Orange painted lips caressing each letter, sweet and fiery at once.

"There's a good girl."

You feel his tip slide between your folds, he dips his knees to adjust his angle. One hand around his shaft to guide it, the other on your hip with a grip that almost too tight. He takes a step forward, glides his hips forward. And it's pure ecstasy.

The way he stretches you is heavenly. It's a low, humming burn almost. A buzzing delight of feeling so full. He's so big and thick, tucked right up against your g-spot. It feels so fucking good and he hasn't even moved yet.

You release a hefty gasp as he moans out your name at the feel of you.

His other hand wraps itself in your hair to keep you looking at him in the mirror and then he's fucking you. His thrusts are delicious. He's fluid, like rolling waves to shatter a galaxy inside of you.

Your eyes meet his in the mirror and he gives you a slow smile before slapping the skin of your ass again. Before you can even cry out at the stinging sensation, he's fucking you so hard you have to bring a hand up to the mirror to balance yourself.

He settles behind you, his lips at your ear. Two sets of breath fog the glass of the mirror.

"That's it, watch me while I destroy this pussy."

The Hall of Mirrors. A second home to you, reflective and encasing. Now you're watching this man fucking destroy you in the bathroom mirror. Your pupils are dilated, much like his are. Black holes, targeting each other and threatening to consume each other.

He wraps his hand around your throat and screws his dick deep, massaging your g-spot so perfectly. You're sure that without the stability of the counter holding you up, you'd be a quivering pile of bones on the floor.

"Fuck, and you thought my pants were tight?" He smirks at you in the mirror.

You release a breathless laugh that's swept away when he starts pounding into you. He grunts with every thrust, taking you so hard you can barely breathe. His skin slaps against yours and he squeezes his hand around your throat to hold you still.

The snow is heightening every sense you have. Your ass is stinging more than normal, your arousal higher than normal. But you know that has more to do with him than narcotics. And when his other hand reaches around to rub your clit, you feel that so strongly that you cry out his name and fucking writhe underneath him.

"Take it, little fox. Take it like the good fucking girl you are."

He moves his hips more sharply, hitting that sweet spot inside of you. He pushes one of your legs up onto the counter and he's so much deeper that way. That in combination with the way he's playing your clit is driving you mental. You're so close and he can feel it, feel your walls tremble and tighten around him.

You're gasping out his name, helpless to how relentlessly he's fucking you. He growls as you clench around his dick, his hand on your throat slipping up so he can put two of his fingers in your mouth. You suck on them gratefully, using your teeth to show him how good he's fucking you.

You're so fucking close but he does the unthinkable... he pulls away. Completely. Leaving you empty and teetering on the edge, yanking you back abruptly.

He doesn't give you a second to question him before he's spinning you around and sitting you up on the counter. He steps forward and you scoot towards him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your hand takes his shaft once more, pulling the skin in a firm first. He moans and lulls his forehead against yours.

"I was so close." You pout hotly against his lips.

"I'll get you there again," He hums, grabbing the base of his dick and running the tip of it between your saturated folds. "Is this what you want?"

"Please," You lean forward and kiss him. His length nudges your entrance but he makes no move to do anything further. "Give me your cock."

"That's what I want to hear."

He smiles, wrapping his hand around your throat again and sliding inside of you with one smooth movement of his hips. Your mouth drops open at the fullness of him. He's so much deeper this way, and so much more intimate with the way he's staring at you.

"Fuck me, Harry. Hard."

He releases another moan, this one more of a growl, and starts fucking you again. Using his hold around your throat and another hand on your hip. He leans you back a little so he can fully enjoy the display of your body and watch where he's fucking you.

He brings your head forward by your throat, your mouth opening at the force and he takes the chance to spit in your mouth.

"Get your clit for me while I fuck this pretty little cunt."

You whimper, sticking your fingertips into your mouth to get them wet with your spit as well as his. And with a shaking hand, reach down with and rub your clit. You feel the bursts of your orgasm brewing, your walls quivering around him.

It's building quickly and you kiss him again, feeling them tingle in your toes with every brush of his tongue. The door behind him starts to open, a drunk man slurring his words behind it. Harry slams it shut while your hand flies from your clit.

"Ocupado!" Harry yells out, his hips faltering momentarily as he locks the door.

Your cheeks heat at the prospect of someone walking in and seeing you this way. A little in embarrassment, a little in excitement.

Harry senses that you're thrown off and fucks your harder, his fingers finding your clit. "Don't worry about him, sweet little fox. You're so close, let's get you there. I can fucking feel it."

You cry out as he destroys you from the inside out, working you into a pleasured frenzy. His hand pulls the top of your dress down over your tits and they spill out. He squeezes them, pulling at your nipples and biting them.

"Harry, oh my god-"

"That's it, come for me." He growls. "Put me away wet."

Your orgasm rolls through you intensely, staggering. Your hands claw at Harry's shoulders as you shake uncontrollably. His dick is unrelenting inside of you, his fingertips not letting up in the delicious patterns against your clit.

"Fucking shit." He marvels over how you feel, how tight and amazing you feel. He's so fucking turned on by you and his hips keep screwing against you.

You wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his neck and biting the skin there. He smells amazing. Like he's been dancing in a pool of vanilla and lavender all night. As you come down from your climax, you retract and watch where he's fucking you.

"Dreamy little cunt," He babbles, so out of it. "get so wet and tight when you come, don't you?"

"Only for you." You coo, kissing him again. He's already far better than any sexual partner you've ever had. Your walls are still trembling around him and every single tremor sends him closer to his end.

"I'm gonna come so hard- shit, you feel so good."

"I want you to come, Harry."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, I want you to feel as good as I do."

He smiles at you, dimples galore, his cheeks as pink as his pants. And then he pins you to the counter by your throat, spreading you back until you're pressed against the mirror. He starts fucking you harder, messier as his cock throbs inside of you.

"Stunning little fox, so fucking perfect. Dancing in this tiny little dress," His hands grip at your breasts some more.

"Harry-"

"Grinding your ass against me, getting me hard for you. Dirty girl, fuck. You own me."

He's working himself up now, his hand tightening around your throat and forcing you to keep looking at him. He's spouting out filthy words into the air between you, unashamed and doing so much for you. You can't help but reach down and play your clit again.

He gives you a laugh, one almost of disbelief. "You like when I talk to you, hm?"

"So much."

"You gonna let me fuck you again, sweet little thing?"

"You can fuck me whenever you want." Because you both know this is the beginning of something new and exciting.

That sets him off. His orgasm blooms and spreads. Pops like a bubble of gum. He pulls out, working his hand on his shaft so fast it's a blur. You move your hand and watch him in awe. He comes directly on your pussy, mouthing dirty words and breathless moans. His other hand gripping your thigh so hard you know it will bruise.

He watches where he's painted you, his come dripping on your lower abdomen, along your clit and your folds. He's a mess, breathing heavily and working the rest of his high from his length.

Thoughtless, he crouches and licks his orgasm from your skin. You moan as he kisses you there, licking every ounce of his come in his mouth. His tongue teases your clit and your thighs jump at the sensitivity.

He stands, cloudy and slow. And he grips your chin harshly, forcing you to open your mouth. As soon as you do, he's spitting heavily into it.

"Don't swallow."

As you fully taste his come on your tongue, he's kissing you. You moan, tasting his orgasm with yours, his tongue with yours. It's so dirty and unhinged but you can't help but feel fucking feral for him over it.

"Good girl." He praises as he pulls away.

He rights his attire, his movements lagged. Like the only thing he can fathom is you and everything else is a chore.

You stare at him, your panties hanging from one ankle, your pussy glistening and spent from him. Bubblegum obsessed. Chocolate curls addicted.

"Gorgeous little fox. Should we ditch this joint and head back to mine?"

You sit up and throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. "Yes, please."

"I want to enjoy you properly." He sighs against your mouth. "Get you out of this dress. Spread you along my sheets, watch your tits bounce while you ride me."

You breathe out a soft whimper at the idea of continuing this for the rest of the night. "I love the sound of that."

He kisses you, deep and wet. "Make you come until I'm dripping in you."

His length, returned to the confines of his pants once more, twitches against your thigh.

"We need to actually leave this room for that to happen." You muse.

He lets out a loud cackle, cupping the back of your neck to draw you towards him. He helps you fix your dress, your panties stripping from your foot and you raise a brow as he tucks them into the back pocket of his pants.

"Didn't know you'd have much room for anything else in those."

"That cheeky mouth is why you're not getting your panties back."

After another round of kisses, the two of you emerge from the room. And while you're both giddy with excitement from what has happened and what else the night holds, no one else in the club bats an eye. Your underwear feels heavy and scandalous in his pocket as he guides you through the crowded dance floor, both of your hands wrapped around one of his.

Thanks to his already tall frame, and heels, he locates his friend quickly. Who is chatting to Amber. You raise a brow at her with a cheeky smile at the sight of them dancing together.

Harry's friend holds his hand out to you, "Mitch!"

You shake his hand and introduce yourself, projecting your voice over the music. You turn to Amber. "We're going to head off, are you okay here?"

She nods frantically. "Honey, I'm so okay!"

Mitch and Harry exchange smirks and hug goodbye.

"Peace, love, and granola, Mitch!"

The air of Miami cools your skin as you step out onto the curb. Harry lags behind, admiring the curve of you and the skin the low hem of your dress offers. He grabs your hand and spins you in a little circle before giving an ear-piercing whistle to hail a cab.

He's all over you in the back of the car. His lips going from yours down your neck, the swell of your breasts. The hem of your dress hitched up, your legs slung over his lap as he fucking devours you. Savours you. Ravishes you.

His apartment, much like his attire is bold, bright, and brave. Warm oranges and reds. Like a sunset on fire, or the heated and sizzling arousal between you. It cozy and art deco and very much Harry. He offers you a half-assed tour of his home but he's undressing you with his eyes. The silhouette of your dress begging for him to see just how much better you are underneath the material.

And once you reach his bedroom, the large, circular bed is all you can focus on. Mint green bedding. The room itself is impressive, the wall behind the bed sporting what looks like a melted sunset. Orange, pink yellow all mended together to offer an accent. Harry peels off your boots and the yellow shaggy rug is soft against your toes.

He puts a record on to spin, Just One Look playing softly in the air.

Suddenly, you're on your back on the bed. Harry hovers over you, his hand cupping your cheek as if he really can't believe you're real.

Is he tripping on a tab of acid or are you really in front of him? Unbelievably lucid and dreamy. Causing fireworks and sunsets in his tummy.

Your eyeshadow matches his bedsheets, he realizes. Little fox, you're meant to be.

His sheets are crisp and smell of him. The tones of his sheets are similar to the mint green of the powder room as if a continuation of what started in there. Dirty, open, and vulnerable.

Like the disco balls in the Hall of Mirrors, fragments of two glass souls mended together in beautiful unity. Dazzling, luminous. Capturing every fraction of light to reflect it in hues every spectrum can admire.

[do-it-jakey-baby]

Umbra Perpetua

Vampire!Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Synopsis: plagued by the pain of your Dad’s passing, you uproot your life to a new town. Peace, however, is extremely far from what you find there as your world is turned on its axis.

Warnings: mentions of loss, grief, painful memories, aggression, profanity, blackout (sorry if I’ve missed any)

18+, MINORS DNI

Chapter One

That’s it. Everything was packed.

Truth be told, you were just leaving one miserable town to move to another, equally miserable town. But you needed to get out, to get away from the painful memories that lined the streets you grew up in. You couldn’t bear the creak of the swing your Dad had spent days tirelessly making, winding it around the maple tree and ensuring it was structurally sound before letting you take it for a spin. You couldn’t stomach the sight of his favourite flannel, still draped over the back of the worn, leather armchair that sat proudly in your reading nook.

Every single element of the house you called a home reminded you that he was gone, and was never coming back. It wasn’t just the house, either. It was the entire town. The sense of nostalgia that grew within your soul used to light you up from within, but now it engulfs you in darkness. Walking past the spot where you first learnt how to ride your bike, or to the ice cream parlour that you frequented every Friday. The unbearable agony that came with reliving these milestones was chewing you up and spitting you out into the abyss.

No more, it had to end. So off you went, on your journey to Washington. You weren’t even sure why you picked Washington, possibly because it held no place in your heart. It was somewhere you could start fresh, void of any characteristics that would remind you of your Dad. That’s what you needed, if you were to ever begin to heal.

As you unpack in your tiny apartment, you feel a sense of hope. Your new home was in need of a hell of a lot of TLC, but it was something you could channel your focus into. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. The money that had been left behind for you wasn’t a lot in terms of inheritance, but enough to get you away from the town you grew up in. But the money would run out, so the first thing on your agenda was to find a job.

The town was small, with a population of around 5,000. As you walked the streets, trying to gain your bearings and familiarise yourself with the area, you stumble upon a quaint little store. It looked like it belonged in a horror movie, with its carbon painted, extremely vintage-esque exterior. The name of the store is carefully etched onto the front of the building in a white, old English font.

𝕬𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖘 𝕬𝖓𝖎𝖒𝖆

A spark of intrigue floods your senses, your feet carrying you to the door on impulse. As you gently push it open, you hear a soft chime. The gothic interior of the store perfectly compliments the exterior, with the scent of incense carrying throughout the space. You could make out notes of frankincense and vetiver, mixed in with dusty, well-loved pages of leather-bound books. There’s a section in the corner filled with vinyls, the rest of the store littered with literature, candles, and delicate crystal trinkets. You venture in further, fully entranced within the environment.

“Hello, can I help you with anything?”

A raven-haired woman walks from behind the counter. She can’t be much older than you, if at all. Her beauty almost knocks the wind from your lungs, with her perfect porcelain skin and deep, ruby lips.

“Hi. Wow, this place is… wow.” You feel embarrassment flood to your cheeks at your lack of articulation.

“Thank you, it’s my pride and joy.” She smiles softly, tucking her silky strands behind her ears.

You couldn’t help but wonder how someone, likely in their early twenties, owned a store like this. Flitting your eyes around the space, you smile back. “It’s beautiful.”

“Passed down through the family to me.” She answers, as if you spoke your question aloud. “So, do you need anything, or would you just like to have a wander around?”

You nod, cursing yourself for your inability to form a coherent sentence. She giggles under her breath, turning to resume her place at the counter. You walk around, taking everything in as you do. Fingering through the records on the far side of the store, you come to the realisation that you’ve listened to each one of the albums. After you’ve explored every nook and cranny, you head over to the counter with a book in hand.

“Edgar Allan Poe, hm? Great choice.”

“My favourite poet.”

She rings up your purchase, then carefully wraps the book in brown parchment. She ties it together securely with a piece of twine, then hands it to you.

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“Ah, yeah. I just moved here, today. I was actually just out looking for a job, but I couldn’t resist coming in here.”

“That’s opportune. I’m hiring.” She smirks.

“You are? Oh my god, I’d love to apply.”

“Consider yourself hired.”

You furrow your brow. “Hired? You’ve only just met me.”

“I trust my intuition.” She reaches behind the counter, pulling a stack of papers from underneath and places them on top, sliding them towards you. “If you want the job, it’s yours. Hours are 9 to 5, Monday to Friday, with some weekend shifts. $20 an hour.”

You stand with your mouth agape, staring between the woman and the paperwork.

“You do want the job, don’t you?” She cocks her head to the side.

“Sorry. Yes. Yes, ma’am. Thank you so much!”

“It’s Adeline.”

“Adeline, right. I’m Y/N.” You extend your hand out to her. When your palm comes into contact with hers, the difference in temperature startles you. It was like you’d just placed your hand onto a marble statue, her skin cool and smooth against yours.

“Get the paperwork signed and come in for 8:30 tomorrow morning, ready to start at 9. It was lovely to meet you.”

You continue to stare at your hand, the chill still lingering from her touch.

“Yeah… you too.” You pick up your book and the paperwork, turning towards the door. As you make contact with the handle, you look back to say goodbye, but Adeline has vanished.

~

You toss and turn all night in your bed, unable to shake your encounter with Adeline. You felt completely enamoured by her. She was undeniably beautiful, but there was something else there. Her movements were so fluid, and the way she laughed was almost musical, as if she was singing you a song with her joy. By the time the morning sun graced the sky, sleep had barely found you. You fought through your exhaustion and peeled yourself from your sheets. You felt the innate need to prove yourself to Adeline, seeing as she had offered you a job on the spot without knowing anything about you. In fact, she didn’t even know your name until the end of your conversation. And the way she seemed to know what you were thinking without you voicing it aloud…

Shaking the thoughts from your mind, you get ready for the day. You remember passing a coffee shop on the way home yesterday, so decide to stop by and attempt to quell your lack of sleep with caffeine. You place your order at the counter, then sit down with your new book and begin to flip through the pages while you wait.

“Vanilla latte for Y/N?”

You look up to find a young man staring back at you, holding your coffee.

“Yeah, that’s me. Thank you.”

The first thing you notice is his skin. It seems oddly sun-kissed, considering the town is spent in an almost constant state of overcast weather. Perhaps he’s just been on vacation recently?

You arrive at Alligatus Anima five minutes before instructed, but the door is unlocked. You let yourself in, walking through the quiet space until you reach the counter.

No sign of Adeline.

All of the hairs on your body prick up as an unfamiliar feeling takes over, causing your fight or flight to kick in. Your eyes dart around the room, but find nothing out of the ordinary. Still, that uneasy feeling remains, until you hear rustling in the back. You breathe a sigh of relief, realising it’s most likely just Adeline setting up for the day. You push past the beaded curtains that separate the shop floor from the back of house in search for her.

“Adeline?”

As you walk further, it feels like you’re being watched. You stop in your tracks, fear rooting you to the spot.

Why are you so afraid?

Then, you hear it. It’s so faint, you could convince yourself that you imagined it, but the quiet gruffs of muffled laughter find your ears. “Adeline?” You repeat, this time a lot lower in volume as your voice shakes.

“No, not Adeline.”

You don’t stop to have a conversation with whoever, or whatever just spoke to you. Letting your feet propel you back to the front of the store, you almost collide with Adeline.

“Y/N, is everything ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” She drops her bag down behind the counter, placing a hand on your arm.

“Or heard one…” You mumble under your breath.

“Do you have your paperwork?”

“Oh, yeah, let me grab it.” You fish around in your satchel for the documents and hand them over.

Adeline sets you up with a list of books that need re-stocking, then heads out back with your paperwork. You sit down at the counter, going over the list and familiarising yourself with the titles. Although you try your hardest to focus, you can’t stop your mind from wondering back to the encounter in the back of the store. That was a male voice. You think on if you should mention it to Adeline for a moment, but you’re quickly broken from your thoughts when she re-enters the room.

“Ok, all done. You’re officially employed. Let’s get you trained up.”

The majority of the day is spent learning the systems, which in reality consists of an old cash register and an iPad. Adeline shows you where the stock is kept, which makes you shudder due to it being in the exact vicinity of where the mysterious voice came from earlier. When she’s satisfied that you’ve learnt everything you needed, she leaves you to mind the floor whilst she gets to work pouring candles out back.

The afternoon had been quiet. You served only a handful of customers, all of them finding what they needed without any intervention. You’re busy mopping the floor in your preparations to close up shop when the door chimes once more. You look up to find a man standing before you unlike any you’d seen before. His skin bore the same shade as Adeline’s, a crisp alabaster. His features looked as if they’d been carved from stone, sharp and captivating. His hair, spilling in soft waves onto his shoulders, was a deep chestnut brown. He had slight stubble on his upper lip, and a pair of black sunglasses perched atop his nose. As your eyes wandered further, you noted he was wearing a black button down, secured by only the last 3 buttons, exposing his gleaming chest. He wore a silver chain with a multitude of pendants dangling from it, but you weren’t close enough to see the detail. His pants were black too, and the outfit completed with a pair of Chelsea boots. You were positive you’d never seen a more beautiful man in your life.

“Is my sister here?” He speaks in a velvety rasp.

“Uh- Adeline?”

“That would be her.”

“Yeah, she’s out back. I’ll uh, I’ll go get her.”

You turn to find Adeline, but the man speaks again.

“I don’t know you.”

You swivel your body back towards him, unsure of what to say.

“We don’t get a lot of new people around here.” He speaks again, moving closer towards you. As the proximity between you lessens, he seems to become uncomfortable. He halts, standing still a few meters from you.

“I just moved here.” You gulp, that same feeling from this morning seeping back into your bones.

You watch as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, his breathing becoming harsher. His hands beside him ball into fists. Your heart thumps in your chest as the overwhelming urge to run takes over your mind, alarm bells ringing loud and clear. Something wasn’t right here.

“Ah, Jacob. I see you’ve met my new recruit, Y/N.”

Adeline. Oh, thank god.

“Indeed, I have.” He snarls.

You turn your body towards the direction of Adeline’s voice, only to find that she’s now standing next to you. You could have sworn she was behind you only a second ago.

“She’s a very hard worker, a great addition to the team.” She continues, stepping in front of you slightly.

“Oh, is she?” He smirks, and you think you like it even less than his earlier expression.

“Y/N, this is Jacob. My younger brother.”

Before you can register what you’re doing, you step towards him with your hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you, Jacob.”

You watch as he takes in a deep breath, but before anything else can happen, Adeline is between you both. Her hand is placed firmly on Jake’s chest.

“No, not this time. Not her.” She whispers, but you hear it anyway.

Jacob exhales sharply, rubbing his hand over his face. “Nice to meet you too, Y/N. Pity.”

Adeline looks back towards you, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’.

In an instant, the world around you fades to black.

~

Air floods your lungs as you take in a gasp, thrashing around manically as you come to. You bolt upright, to find that you’re at home, in your own bed. With your head in your hands, the visions of the moments before you blacked out flash before your eyes.

What happened?

As you look around your room, you spot a figure in your peripheral. Your blood runs cold as you back yourself against your headboard, bringing your sheets up to your chin. The figure rises from it’s seat in the corner, stepping into the light that streams through the crack in your curtains.

Adeline.

“Please, don’t be scared. I just had to make sure you were ok.”

“Adeline? Wha- what.” You stammer.

She sits beside you on the side of the bed.

“He won’t hurt you. I promise.”

“Hurt me? Why would he hurt me?” You feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, more from fear than any other emotion.

“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry, I wish I could. But what I can tell you is that my brother and I, we are… different.”

“Different?”

“Yes different. But I like you. There’s something about you that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

“How did I pass out?”

“Uh, that was me. Call it a protection measure…”

“Protecting me from who? Jacob?”

“Y/N, I can’t answer your questions. It’s more dangerous for you if I do. But I promise you, you are safe. You have my word. Take today off, get some rest. You have my number, I’m only down at the store if you need me.”

She swiftly makes her exit, leaving you even more confused than you were to begin with. You pick your phone up from your nightstand, finding it open on your contacts.

Adeline Kiszka

You cross your legs under your body, bringing up every social media app you had on your phone and typing the two names in. You find nothing. Deciding what you need is fresh air, you pull on a pair of leggings and a hoodie, then head outside. You aimlessly wander down street after street, trying to find a distraction, until your feet carry you to the little coffee shop you’d visited the day prior. As you walk in, you’re met with the same face as yesterday, eagerly waiting to take your order.

“Another vanilla latte?” He smiles.

“You remember my order? I’ve only been in here once.”

“No one orders the syrup around here, so it’s pretty memorable.” He chuckles. “So, new in town I’m assuming?”

“Why does everyone ask me that, is it that obvious?”

He grins, and you can’t help but notice the small dimple in his cheek. “Kinda yeah, but we don’t get a lot of newbies.”

“So I’ve been told…” You murmur.

“It’s Y/N, isn’t it?”

“Yeah that’s right.”

“I’m Alex.” He hands you your coffee, then looks like he’s about to say something else.

“Speak your mind, Alex.”

“I, um, I get off in like ten minutes. Do you wanna, maybe hang out? If you’re free.”

You could use a friend in this town…

“Yeah sure, I’d love to.”

Sure enough, ten minutes later Alex is walking towards you, sans apron. He doesn’t tell you where you’re going, but you end up at a park on the edge of town. You sit down on a bench together and he pulls out a sandwich from his backpack.

“You want half? It’s PB&J?”

You feel your stomach growl, realising now how long it’s been since you last ate. “Yeah, sure. Thank you.”

You both sit in silence, taking bites from the sandwich and enjoying the warmth of the sun that is peaking through the clouds.

“Do you know anything about the Kiszkas?”

Alex almost chokes on his sandwich as he turns to you, his eyes wide. “Stay. Away.”

You furrow your brow. “Well, that’s kinda hard for me to do seeing as Adeline is my boss…”

“Shit. No, no. Y/N, you have to quit. I can see if we have anything available at my place.”

“What is so bad about them?”

“Look, I know you only just met me yesterday, but you need to trust me. They aren’t good people. If you can even call them that…” He mumbles the last part so quietly you almost don’t catch it.

“Why can’t anyone be straight with me around here?” You mutter, taking another bite of the PB&J.

“I’m sorry, I wish-”

“You wish you could tell me, but you can’t, right?” You roll your eyes.

“No. I like, really, really can’t. Can you at least promise me you’ll be careful? And don’t walk anywhere alone at night.”

“I can’t really avoid that, I don’t know anyone here yet. I only moved here yesterday!”

“Well, then take my number. I don’t mind walking with you.”

“Why are you being so nice?”

“Because, you seem like a good person. Someone who probably moved here to get away from it all. I understand that.”

~

You and Alex chatted for hours, finally moving on from the Kiszka conversation. You learnt a lot about him, what made him tick, and about his home life. You came to the conclusion that you liked him very swiftly, especially when he told you he also loved The Rolling Stones. Talking to him was pretty effortless, it didn’t feel like a chore and it was actually quite enjoyable. He had a certain “golden retriever” type energy about him, that somewhat matched your “black cat” energy well. You were like yin and yang, and it worked. He dropped you back at your house when it got dark, becoming shifty as soon as the moon lit up the night sky. You said your goodbyes and he made you promise again that you’d call him if you needed him.

As soon as you crossed the threshold into your house, you could tell something wasn’t right. The air smelled… different. Not in a bad way, in fact it was an incredibly intoxicating fragrance. Nevertheless, it put you on high alert. Remembering you placed one of your old baseball bats from high school by the door, you grasp onto the handle. Moving at a snail like pace, you begin towards your kitchen.

Clear.

Your bedroom is next, just down the hall. The floorboards squeak as you try your best to remain silent. The door to your room is ajar, which is strange because you always close it before you leave. You peer in through the gap, seeing the room is empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, you enter the room and walk towards your bed, but before you get to it the door slams shut. You brace yourself as you spin around, the bat raised in your hands as you prepare to use it.

Jacob.

“Hello again, Y/N. Are you planning on using that on me?”

[paperweight91]

How about a soft (maybe horny as well) moment with Ransom? 😌

Ahhhh Soft!Ransom 😍 I think i have just the idea for you dear Siri!

Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI)

It was quiet in the house when you got home from work. You were exhausted. All the deadlines seem to hit around the same time leading to little sleep and long hours. The only shining light was the coming break. Just a few more days, that’s all you had to get through before some well deserved time off.

After discarding your jacket and shoes haphazardly by the front door, you flopped yourself onto the large sectional in the living room. All you wanted was to get clean and go to bed. You heard a muffled swear and something breaking in the kitchen. Ugh, Ransom was probably trying to cook, again.

You sauntered in to see the kitchen looking like a bomb went off. If the appearance was anything to go by, it looked like he had used every single bowl, cup, spoon and even plate in the house.

“Ransom, what are you doing?” You heaved a sigh and placed your hands on your hips.

He gave you a crooked grin as he looked up from the broken glass on the floor. “I wanted to surprise you. Ah shit.”

He had cut himself on the glass, distracted by your entrance. You rushed over to look at his hand, nothing a band-aid wouldn’t cover. You turned on the faucet and let the water run, while shoving his hand underneath. “Don’t move.” You instructed.

You went into the bathroom to get the first aid kit and blew out a breath. You appreciated Ransom trying, but you could see all the clean up you were going to have to do. And then he was gonna pout about how tired you were. Just a few more days.

You brought the kit back to see Ransom drying off his hand. You placed some anti-septic cream and then band-aid on his wound. “I thought I told you not to move.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

He chuckled and pulled you against his chest. “And how often do i take instructions well?” You laughed and swatted his chest. “Alright, alright, do you want to see your surprise?” He looked so eager and proud, but nervous at the same time. His energy had sparked some of yours back to life. You nodded eagerly.

He spun around and went over to the fridge. He made a big show of pulling the fruits of his labour from its depths. You quickly cleared some space on the counter, pushing some of the dirty items into the sink. Ransom placed a beautiful dessert tray on the counter. At first you frowned wanting to scold him for dirtying everything and then buying you something. But when you looked closer, you could see it. Ransom had made every single treat on this tray.

It was overflowing with brownies, and various fruits dipped in white and milk chocolate. What looked like a cream cheese dip, with mini cinnamon rolls. Chocolate chip, M&M and sugar cookies with icing. All of your favourites, lovingly made by the man in front of you.

You must have been silent for too long because Ransom started shuffling his feet. “It’s all edible, I swear.” He looked down and brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck.

“You did all this for me Ran?” You couldn’t hide the wonder in your voice, causing Ransom’s head to immediately snap up to look at you. “This must have taken you all day.” You were smiling from ear to ear.

“You like it?” There was pink tinging his cheeks, it was rare to see him this vulnerable, but you soaked up the moment.

You walked around the island so you could come face to face with him. “Are you kidding? No one’s ever done something like this for me before. In fact, I think I know the perfect way to say thank you.”

At Ransom’s bewildered expression you dropped to your knees, innocently blinking up at him. “Will you accept my thank you?” You traced your hands up his thighs, but his hands stopped yours. He was smirking down at you and shaking his head.

“I have a much better idea, that I think will satisfy us both.” He pulled you to your feet and spun you towards the hallway. Gently nudging you from behind towards the bedroom. Your brain finally caught up to what Ransom was trying to indicate and you practically skipped into your shared bedroom and began stripping down. You turned around to see Ransom placing his hard work on the table by the closet. When you raised an eyebrow you got a mumbled, “so we can enjoy later.” In response.

After that, Ransom was on you. He swept you up in his arms and carried you to the bed. Once he had you arranged exactly how he wanted you, he stripped out of his sweater and pants, standing before you in only his boxers. You made grabby hands towards him, and he chuckled at your eagerness quickly showing his boxers down and off.

He crawled over top of you and smiled as he leaned down, “Let me take care of my girl today, tomorrow you can go back to taking care of me.” He captured your lips in a kiss that stole your breath. You giggled as he parted nodding. He trailed open mouth kisses across your jaw and down your neck stopping to nip at your collarbone. He then trailed kisses down to your breasts, burying his face in between them before licking a stripe up one, while he pinched and kneaded the other. He drew your nipple into his mouth teasing the bud with his teeth and tongue. You moaned and threw your head back at the sensation. His fingers a rough contrast to the way he lovingly treated your nipple with his mouth.

He switched to the other breast, swapping to give the first on the rough treatment of his fingers as he sucked and scraped. You could feel the wetness that had started to gather between your thighs in the kitchen flowing from you now. You thrust your hips up, trying to get some friction where you needed it the most. Ransom seeing your plight, took pity on you and kissed his way down your stomach to the apex of your thighs. He sighed in contentment before pulling your lips apart and licking a stripe from your leaking hole to your clit. You arched off the bed and your hands flew to his head, directing him to where you wanted him most. Ransom happily followed your lead, sucking your clit into his mouth while he teased your entrance with two of his fingers. You could tell you wouldn’t last long already, your grip in his hair growing tighter and tighter by the second. He slipped down to tongue at your sloppy entrance while his fingers danced along your clit.

You groaned, “Ran, I’m so close, please.” You knew he loved when you begged, since it was a rare thing for you to do. His eyes shot open, and you could feel the smirk on his face as he looked up at you. He pulled away, and began rubbing circles on your clit, “Your wish is my command Kitten.”

He dove back in with a new vigour to his movements, clear in his intentions to have you coming on his tongue and fingers. He alternated between sucks and rubbing your clit and within minutes your orgasm raced through you. You moaned his name and arched your back, waiting for the aftershocks to pass. He eased you through with his fingers and then crawled his way up your body. You cuddled him close and kissed him drowsily. “I think you take instructions perfectly.” You quipped at him.

He groaned and buried his face in your neck. “Just promise you’ll try some treats before you pass out on me?”

You laughed and wrapped yourself around him like a koala. Just a few more days and you will be able to do this all day long.

[selarina]

Warm Mouth, Warmer Bodies

-> Getou Suguru x Fem!Reader

Summary: Feeling like a mere parasite sucking onto your friend, you watch the scene unfold before you. A man approaches her, asking her out — it's anticipated. It's a script that has played out countless times. However, just as you anticipate the final curtain, your attention is drawn to a man with eyes as dark as night.

Content Warnings: nightclub, first meeting, fluff, smut, exhibitionism, blowjob, grinding, alcohol consumption, explicit consent, language, sensuality, sushi, unedited

Word Count: 6.2k words

Author's Note: sushi and sensuality, my favourite s words

Read on AO3 | Minors and blank blogs DNI or I will block you

When the man in the blue corduroy shirt and starkly black tooled leather shoes ambles towards our table from his place in the VIP section, you have no qualms or illusions of what’s happening. He was coming to see your friend and rightly so.

She was always the one that caught people’s eyes, and years and years of being friends with her made you feel like a parasite that was merely managing to suck onto her. 

Like earlier today when you made your way to the table, a soft smile graced your face as you greeted your friends, just 5 minutes earlier than your friend. The first thing that came out of their mouths was, “Where is she?” 

He’s standing tall beside your table which remains fairly secluded in comparison to others in sight. You have trouble sketching the man’s face as it remains obscured by the bar’s dim lights but his choice of clothing seems to speak for itself. Sunglasses inside a dark club? Yeah, that seemed to speak for itself.

“What, may I ask, are you beautiful women celebrating today? I couldn’t help but overhear as I was walking here.” He speaks, his voice far too cheery to be pleasing to your ears. 

Your friend blushes, she must be able to see him better you think. She’s not one to fall so easily, not when there are quite literally plenty of fish in the sea. 

“My birthday,” she responds, her voice shy, and you are taken aback because this is a first.

But he doesn’t say anything more for some reason, he just lingers as he stares. For a second you think you notice a tint of red on his cheeks that makes its way to your eyes even through all the dark. 

“Hmm... Well, the birthday girl deserves some free drinks and food. Don’t you think so?" You suggest with a smile, hoping to break the awkward silence that took your company. 

“Yeah. Yes! Drinks and food, I can pay if you’re okay with that — that is,” he tries. 

Your friend chuckles, dipping her head all the way back before she answers — “I’d like that.” She squeezes your arm as she makes her way to the bar with him.

You turn away after making a note of where your friend sits, just in case she asks you to get here later. And as you’re turning, you notice another man standing, just a quick few steps away from where the man from earlier was standing. 

He’s just as tall as the man from before, but you can see his features much more clearly since he’s directly under the light. He’s lean, with dark hair, dark eyes, and dark circles. You think he exudes a perfect sort of beauty.

“Enjoy your night ladies,” he says. His voice isn’t deep or high-pitched. It’s just moderate, much like the fourth octave of a piano.

You put two and two together quite easily as you watch him point to the table where the man from earlier came from. He must be his friend — the moral support. He must be what you are to your friend. 

You smile, asking “Are you going to be alone?” 

“Yeah,” he answers, looking back at your friend, and his.

“You can join us,” you say.

He pauses as though in deep contemplation. He stares back examining the table you’re sitting in, proceeding to scan your other friends. You turn, and your friend on the very left seems very taken by him. You don’t blame her but something twinges in you.

“Or you can join me,” he says, gesturing back to the VIP lounge. 

You’re a bit baffled by this, really, and although it isn’t particularly enticing since it’s secluded and not necessarily safe, you felt the need to be part of something more than this one secluded table tonight — one that’s filled with friends who barely seem to acknowledge you when your friend’s not around. You decide you’ll text your friend an update, even if she seems occupied with the man from before. You trust that she’ll see and keep an eye out for you. Just in case.

You have a million questions in your head but it all comes down to an all-knowing —  “Really?” But you don’t say it, you settle for a “Sure, I can join you.”

Your voice comes out a bit more meek than earlier but you run with it. You accompany the man, getting a mere hand gesture to shoo you away as you tell your friends who seem engaged in a conversation about Aunt Claudia, whoever that may be. Your eyes flit to your friend as you walk, just to know where she is. 

“Fancy,” you say as you get to the VIP lounge. It’s a bit tacky for your tastes, but so is most of the decor at any other clubs you’ve been to. 

You take a seat, your legs crossed as your hand comes to hold your knee, feeling a bit awkward.

“Really?” He asks, and his distaste becomes quite visible, his lips twisting and his brows cinched together.

You chuckle in response. “Okay, it’s a bit tacky alright.”

“That’s more like it,” he smiles. “What’s your name?”

You answer, and he smiles and he continues keeping his gaze on you. And you start to think that you should be smarter than this. He’s gorgeous but there’s no need to be too enamored.

There’s simply no need, you think as your eyes flit to the way his hand scratches his forehead. Your eyes gaze down all the way to his biceps then his forearms and then his hands, they seem a bit calloused. 

You wonder what he does for a living as you continue to stare — the span of his hand and the way they seem to flex his forearms as they come to pick up his unfinished drink.

You gaze back up to his face and he’s still looking at you. A subtle quirk on his lips and you think maybe he knows you were staring too intently.

“What’s yours?” You ask, your hands squeezing your knees tighter and tighter as you speak, you think you could pop your kneecap.

“Suguru. It’s Getou Suguru.”

“Why did you ask me to join you here, Getou Suguru?” You try to maintain a semblance of compromise under his heavy gaze. 

“I like your dress,” he replies.

That’s… odd. Usually, it’s ‘I like your smile’, ‘I think you’re pretty’ or just a plain — ‘I really want to fuck you.’

“Do you?” You probe further.

“Yeah,” he answers, still nursing his drink.

“What do you like about it?” Your eyes squint, questioningly.

“It fits you well,” he says.

“Okay…” You seem a bit underwhelmed but not particularly surprised. 

“Do you want something to drink?” he offers.

“Not particularly,” you say. 

Your eyes drift to the crowd dancing, people grinding over each other, others running their hands over each other, and another couple that’s making out.

“Can I have the rest of your drink, actually?” You speak up.

“I can get you a new one. There’s barely anything left,” he answers, holding his glass up for you to see.

“It’ll suffice,” you relent as he hands the glass over to you with a mere shrug.

You finish the remnants of the drink in one shot, he was right there’s barely anything in here but it’ll do. “Do you want to dance Suguru Getou?” You ask, a bright smile on your face as you do. 

“Okay,” he assents, rising from his seat as his hands extended for you to take.

As your hands meet his, he pulls you up from your seat in a single graceful swoosh and suddenly, you are standing before him. Your body fixed itself upright as you smelt the soft notes of dark oud — a sort of woodsy, balsamic smell that sat on his skin. 

You guided him with a gentle force, making sure you didn’t lose him within the swirling mass of bodies. The dance floor, usually holds itself canvas to synchronized movements but today, the crowd seemed just too out of sync, as if they were entranced by beats playing in their own heads — something straight out of a silent disco club. Only it’s not, so you think maybe they’re just shitty at this whole scene. 

You can’t really blame them — for you are not an outsider peering in but an embodiment of the very people you seem to observe tonight but whatever it is — that’s coursing through your veins today seems to be conjured from a reality too different from your usual. Nonetheless, you choose to embrace it — if only for this evening.

As your eyes leave the bodies, they fall immediately onto the table with your friends — you catch mere glimpses but they seem too warped in their own conversations and laughter with not a care in the world. It leaves you feeling a bit empty. 

As you turn your attention to the man you pulled from the table, his eyes seem to have been focused on your face, his dark eyes fixed on yours as you inch a bit closer when someone behind you pushes you. 

As you stumble slightly from the unexpected push, Suguru's hand steadies you, his firm grip on your waist preventing you from losing your balance completely.

He leans in closer and closer until he’s only an earshot away from your ears. “I don’t dance,” he says. 

You pull back, your face blank — a face that conveys a registering mixture of annoyance and disbelief — “Seriously?”

But he leans back down to your ears, almost in tandem — “But, you can… dance for me?” he says as he takes a step back away from you, imploring and urging you to start as the only link between the two of you is your hand that remains in his grip. 

Your heart is racing almost a funny contradiction to the sensual, slower beats of the music in the background.

You start with a few cautious movements, withdrawn and moving inward. You wish you were one to let the music dictate your movements, but this is all too novel — especially with such an attentive member as your only audience. 

He doesn't dance, yet his body shifts to accommodate your own in his personal space — directing you in graceful turns and arcs as his eyes never leave you. It's almost as though he was orchestrating a dance of his own, one that revolves solely around you.

As you continue, you let go of your initial hesitations — it’s quite easy what with you expecting Getou to laugh at your moves but he simply stares in a growing expression that can only speak of desire. 

Your eyes close, as your body starts to respond to the music on its own. You twirl under Suguru's guidance, feeling a rush of exhilaration as the world blurs around you until you find yourself flush against his chest. You turn, as you find his breath against your shoulder.

You try — a small wave, before he pulls you closer to his body with his fingers pressing gently into your sides until you find yourself gently gyrating against him driven by the music, but mostly driven by his wandering hands. He leans further into your neck as though he’s trying to waft out your smell. 

His lips graze your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine as he murmurs, "You're not bad," he speaks, his voice comes out so low, it’s barely a whisper but it’s enough to send a rush of heat between your legs. 

You pivot with a swiftness that startles him, urging him to step back. “I think that was more than just not bad,” you speak as your expression contorts into an amused sneer.

A wry glint dances in his eyes. “Alright,” he concedes as he draws you in closer until your chest is pressed against his body. A soft sigh escapes him, he rests his head against your shoulder before he speaks up again — “You’re incredible.”

He gently sways as you do. You’re a bit tired from dancing all around him, but you sway with your body weight resting on his as he has on yours. Suguru's fingers start tracing a delicate random pattern up and down your spine. The motion is mesmeric — up and down, up and down until his grip tightens you after what felt like a quick few minutes. He pulls you off him as he says, “Let’s get out of here.”

—

You weren’t sure who was the initiator that bridged the expanse between the two of you, but his warm mouth slotting itself against your own was proof enough that at least one of you made the move. 

Your mind soon started reeling as soon as the two of you had made it to the quiet, empty corridor the two of you found yourselves standing in. 

You had looked around momentarily before the two of you had started kissing each other. There was close to no one in here — besides the few very unbothered workers who merely stepped off the side to get past the two of you.

Your mind was just beginning to find a calm, just beginning to stop its rampant reeling, but as soon as he started kissing you, it started reeling all over again until it went blank — an odd sort of extreme against the overwhelmed state you were previously in.

As both his lips moved fervently against yours, your hands kept reaching up, reaching onto whatever parts of his shirt you could heap in your fingers’ grasp.

Seemingly, in response his hand started to up to your hips, pulling you flush against the warmth of his body, as your hands bunched.

The kiss was so so good — and everything felt really hot — it made you want to rip out of your own clothes right there in the corridor, but you’re not that gone. Not yet.

You find yourself smiling as you pull back from the kiss. 

He tries to pull you back in, to keep you connected — his lips gently biting your own to keep you but he eventually relents when you push back harder. 

You needed to breathe but mostly you just wanted to see him — even if the lights were dimmer in this corridor — it’s not often you kiss a man this beautiful. 

His lips are merely a few inches away from yours, and you feel his hot breaths against your skin, he’s breathing a bit quicker than one normally would. Seems like he needed the break too — but just as you had that thought he pulls you right back into him.

You allow him to coax your lips apart, letting him pull you in closer and closer and closer against him — you wonder if there’s bounds to that — if there’s a limit to how close you can be but just as you have that thought, he pulls you in again. 

Greedy, you think. He’s moving like a greedy man right now, you wouldn’t have pegged him as one — not when you put him beside his more extroverted friend. 

Getou’s hands start to move from your hips to your waist, and now to your lower back. His fingers ghost just above your ass, and it reaches lower — inch by inch — as he continues kissing you.

Your ears quirk up as you hear some shuffling, and through what you can see through your very limited — very distracted vision, you notice a tipsy couple that seems to be making their way through the hallway.

And then you realize how dangerous the situation you were in was; how easily other people could see the two of you — your outfit falling off at the straps, and the two of you debasing yourselves in a public corridor.

“He—” you try to speak as you attempt to break away from the kiss. 

You didn’t mind the workers walking by, because they’re likely used to this sort of behavior here but you feel a bit bare all of a sudden as you’re watching the couple walk past, taking a turn at the end of the corridor. 

“Listen,” you finally plead when you manage to part.

He stops as he backs away, looking at you so so intently, and his eyes — pitch black — flutter with a reflection that mirrors your blankness. A notion flickers within you: that should you ask him something now, his words might come out in unintelligible murmurs. Strangely enough, you find that this realization stirs a faint swell of unwarranted pride within you.

“Not here,” you speak up, one hand lingering on his shoulder while the other gestures toward the expansive hallway.

His gaze follows your hand, fixating itself on the corridor — it’s empty, yet very much lacking in privacy. Almost on cue, a man strolls across his field of vision, proceeding to walk himself down the hallway. 

He sighs, making a small noise of acknowledgment as he grabs your hand. 

He starts guiding you along the corridor's length. Your path curiously seems to mirror that of the couple earlier. 

His grasp remains firm on your hand, and your gaze starts to linger to the point where your hands touch — his long, slender fingers interlocked steadfastly with your own. He had a pretty set of hands and their touch against your skin was unexpectedly soft.

And finally, the two of you arrive in a vacant room awash in a hue of techno pink, an ambiance that’s all too fitting with the club's aesthetic. 

You find that you’re almost a bit upset that you have to stop staring at his hands. If were in a more composed state than you find yourself in right now — you would ask if you could simply sit here so you could stare at them all day — maybe sketch them on a piece of napkin if you were truly feeling it. 

But alas, a different day, a different activity. And perhaps a different man. 

Yet, the present carries its own momentum. With little delay, he pushes you against the wall and starts pressing you into it roughly as his lips try to slot their way back against yours.

The second kiss is almost better than the first one — more desperate this time but you do think there was something about that first one that was made it slightly better — you found that you didn’t really care to analyze why right now, not when his hands started to grip your thighs.

You’re not sure if it’s because you two found yourselves in a more private location or if it’s because it was simply the next step but Getou starts moving more fervently, his hands moving from your thighs to your ass as he squeezes roughly, while his other ghosts around you hip, mirroring the same squeeze.

His hand kept moving, coming back up to your thighs, and then up to your hips, and then up to your ass — and honestly, you were getting tired of it so you pushed him away.

You speak up, averting your gaze to look at the door that remains ajar. “Don’t you want to close the door?” 

"Would you like me to?" he returns, a note of uncertainty edging his words.

"Yes, I think...?" you reply, a query veiled in your response.

"Okay," he concedes, his fingers idly scratching at his cheek.

“Wait, why would I not?” you interject, puzzled.

“You’d feel safer,” he responds, plainly.

“Right… That’s odd but kind,”  you acknowledge. “But I’d also rather not have an unexpected audience walk in on us so um—”

“I’ll get the door,” he interrupts, as he walks to the door, locking it and then double-checking as his hand tugs at the handle to ensure it’s closed.

“Did you drink much today?” he asks, his voice coming out a bit gruffly as his eyes look for an answer on your face.

“Half a glass of bad wine,” you said softly.

“Wine at a club,” he muses into the air.

You squint at the tone, “How much have you had?”

“I can handle my alcohol,” he responds, with a light chuckle.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Half a glass of that bad beer you tasted earlier,” he retorts. “Now, can I start getting naked?”

Your eyes narrow as you approach him, your hands reaching to the topmost buttoned part of his shirt, as you start unbuttoning them — one by one. 

You’re being extremely slow, Suguru can’t help but think, but he supposes it is nice — he feels the softness of your finger trailing down the expanse of his chest with each button pops open.

He let you go at your leisurely slow pace, but once you were done, everything happened quickly. 

It was almost impressive how quickly Getou managed to undress you once you’d finished off with his shirt. You didn’t even get to push the shirt off his body before his hands relentlessly started peeling your dress off you until there was nothing left to be shed except for your bra and underwear.

You start feeling hyper-aware of your body in relation to his, as the two of you move to a sofa in the room. You don’t feel it, not when you’re straddling his lap, but from what little you can feel — it’s one of those uncomfortable, plastic-like textures that you hate.

You jolt lightly out of your skin when his hand comes down, his fingers spread across your bare skin — it’s cold, firm, and absurdly enough suddenly warm against your skin. 

Looking directly into your eyes, Getou unveils the words, “Move for me?” 

It’s almost uncanny how closely it resembles the hushed “Dance for me?” from earlier, but just as you did on the dance floor, you heed the call, as you start moving to his plea.

As you continue moving against him — his fingers don’t remain idle, they start massaging you across the expanse of what he can reach of your skin. Gradually, they traverse inward, their progression deliberate — in small increments, as though he fears startling you, or that you might recoil if you catch on to his advance.

You maintain a rhythm, as you continue growing hot all over, your movement growing desperate now. 

But as though his fingers merely got bored he starts tugging at your underwear by the sides, tugging it higher and higher, until it starts stimulating you more.

Your hips buck forward, and you reach for him, and he responds by closing the distance between you both in a wet, messy kiss. You moan as your lips touch, and his tongue wastes no time in swiping over your lower lip and reaching far inside. 

Winding your hands around his neck, you scratch at the short hair at his nape, as you feel that his tied-up hair is starting to unravel. A moment later, you stroke his cheek as you continue maintaining the kiss. You feel like you want to touch every part of him, confirmation that he is really here, confirmation that tonight is really happening.

Getou on the other hand remains as composed as he’s been all night, and it’s starting to drive you a bit insane. His teeth nip and suck on your lips until you cede the pace all to his measly fingers, and just like that with little to no effort, he wrests control from you, taking regiment over your body.

And that’s why you pull back — you peer at him through heavy-lidded eyes, before you speak up.

“Can I go down on you?” you ask, as you continue peering at him, forcing him to keep looking at you.

If Suguru was being honest, your question left him feeling more bare than you were at the moment, even though he was fully dressed, aside from his half exposed chest. Your words struck him with a starkness that caught him off guard. It reached his ears as plain and straightforward, devoid of any and all embellishment. 

He blinks, surprise flickering across his features as he takes in your proximity, hovering just above him, your gaze intent as it seems to dim just bit by bit as every second passes. If he could hit himself in the head right now, he might have done so, but instead, he settles for a mental reprimand, as he finds it in himself to speak up, “Of course, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” you whispered to him, as you made your way down to the cold floor beneath you. Your knees settle as you look up to see him watching you. 

He was painfully hard in his pants, as you reached out to palm him through them. You felt his cock twitch at the light contact, as you unzipped him, tugging out of the confines of his pant and underwear.

You smiled softly, dipping down and mouthing at the base of his cock.

Getou groaned as you made your way up to the tip — suckling and licking along his length as you moved. You bore a sense of satisfaction as you moved with every sigh or grunt that came from his mouth.

You wrapped your lips around him properly for the first time, previously merely teasing him, and Getou’s hips shifted in his seat, as he sat up — his hand finding purchase on your head.

“Shit,” his word came out a little slurred as he hissed almost immediately. “Do more.”

“Hm?” you hummed curiously as you pulled away from him, using your hand to give a few pumps, thumbing at the underside of the head as you went back in. 

You peered up at him through your lashes, if only to savor his face for you like this — bare and unreserved. 

“You’re go—” You interrupt his sentence more into your mouth again, sinking down a little further than before, letting your tongue trail down around the underside of his cock.

“You’re good,” he completes his previous sentence, yet it still comes out restrained with a soft grunt. His hands tighten a bit around your head, gently tugging you further, as you gagged lightly against the sudden intrusion. 

You automatically try to move back, but find that his hand grasping your head keeps you there, after a moment you get used to it, you realize as you breathe through your nose and swallow around him.

“Shit—,” he moans, causing you to hum from your stuffed throat. You quite like the sound of him moaning for you.

At some point, when you look up you see him — his heavy-lidded eyes fluttering as he watches you hollow your cheeks, a squelching noise filling the pink room as you swallowed the final inch of his cock that you hadn’t been able to choke down yet.

And at that, his hips twitch, moving further into you like he was chasing for your mouth. All you could do was force your aching jaw to open further and ignore the spit that was spilling from your lips to better accommodate him.

“So good,” he breathed. “Keep going — Agh! I’m coming,” he groans, as he spills into you. 

You swallow almost immediately, not wanting to keep it in your mouth.

“You were good,” he appraises, softly — tired, as he lays back against the couch.

“Yeah?” you asked, your voice a little hoarse in your raw throat.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his hand reaching down to wipe off some cum on your chin as he nodded. 

Just as you're about to clear your throat, a sudden banging reverberates against the door. Instinctively, your arms swipe across your mouth before they cross to shield your chest, your hands darting to retrieve your dress from the floor, a mere few inches away.

Getou promptly starts buttoning his shirt, his movements swift as you slip your dress back from over your head. As you glance back, you notice him adjusting his pants, holding a few tissues as he discards them.

His hands come up behind you, as he tugs your dress down properly before he moves in front of you to open the door.

"Hey! Hello, sir. I’m so sorry, but someone’s booked this room for, well... right now! And I’m so, so sorry, but you'll have to leave now, so, um— I can clean up your mess," a young man, likely in his early twenties, blurts out, his words tumbling over themselves, leaving you and Getou little room to react.

Getou begins to respond after a brief pause, "It's okay, we'll—"

But he's quickly cut off by the same boy, who continues his rapid-fire explanation, "Not that I'm saying you were making a mess. I would never suggest that, but I just did— I'm so sorry, sir. Please for—"

With newfound poise, if only to save the boy from himself — you step past Getou. "It's alright. We'll be leaving, and you really don't have to apologize for doing your job," you assure him with a warm smile as your fingers curl around Getou's hand, leading him out of the heated room without hesitation.

“Sorry about that,” Getou interjects softly, his voice barely audible as the two of you amble alongside each other through the dimly lit corridor. You move slowly, a stark contrast to the walk you two made your way here.

“Not your fault,” you say, feeling a bit awkward now, as you become hyper-aware that you’re holding his hand. “Um, is this a common occurrence for you then?”

“Deal with nervous workers….?” He asks, puzzled.

“Bring women in here — to these rooms,” you gesture to another room with your free hand.

“Not often — First time at this club actually,” he admits.

“Ah,” you chuckle with no humor. “You just seemed like you knew where you were going.”

A pause, and his hand tightens around yours. “I really liked your dress.”

“You’ve mentioned that before,” you chuckle and squint. 

“Do you want to find another room now, or…?” His sentence wanes, leaving you to think.

Honestly, a deep sense of fatigue courses through your body, and you have work tomorrow. You didn’t expect to meet a man as handsome as him, but you would much rather leave this place if anything to avoid a grumpy day tomorrow. Leaving him, however, held a different narrative altogether.

“I want to go home,” you concede, with a sigh.

You figure if he likes you enough, he may ask you out again. If not, you’ll suffice just fine eating the ice cream you bought this morning as you watch a film, nestled in the comforts of your couch.

—

The two of you make your way to the exit, Suguru's hand finds the small of your back, guiding you with a gentle touch as he slows to walk in tandem with you. You take the final few steps down the stairs and you’re outside — the night air coming in cool against the heat on your skin. The world outside the club comes to be a stark and ideal contrast to the sensory overload you have just experienced.

"I can call for a car," Suguru offered, his voice a soothing murmur. "My driver can drop you home."

Your mind raced and seemed to think a lot but also not much at all — you wanted to spend more time with Suguru but the practicality of sleeping in your warm bed seemed to outway anything else in the moment. 

"Actually, there's a little sushi place nearby. Do you mind if we make a quick stop? I want to take some food home," you say. 

A fair compromise, you think.

Suguru's lips curled into a faint smile, his eyes glinting with light amusement. "Sushi, huh? Sure,” as he gestured for you to lead the way.

The sushi place you had in mind was about 6 minutes away by walk, it’s a quaint little establishment with traditional decor. As you enter, the soft chime of a bell startles you a bit. 

You place your order — already having decided on your walk here, as Suguru orders a double — telling them he’ll surrender his preference to yours for the night.

The cashier speaks up, “To go or have here ma’am?” 

“To go, please.” You respond as you offer a sidelong smile to Suguru. He returns the smile, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turns his attention back to the cashier to pay.

As you wait for your orders, the two of you take a seat at one of the many empty tables at the restaurant. You do suppose no one’s coming here at 3 in the night. 

Suguru is a portrait of ease, he leans back against the arm of the chair, his posture relaxed as he seems slightly tilted towards where you sit. 

“I forgot to tell my friends I was leaving,” you speak up, breaking the air. You should be more frantic but you can’t seem to find yourself caring, not even if they got mad when they eventually realized.

“They didn’t seem to care,” he responded, his tone measured as he gauged your reaction.

“No,” you sigh as you allow yourself to recline further into your chair, stretching your aching back. “They don’t really.”

He hums, and you think about how much you’ve revealed to a guy you met barely a few hours ago.

You turn around, scanning the emptiness of the sushi place. It’s still soothing, even with the lack of human chatter. The lights sit warm against your Suguru’s skin, making him look a lot more wholesome than he had been half an hour ago. 

Eventually, the two of you get your respective orders as you stand outside, waiting for Suguru’s car. You have a thin sweater that’s donning your body – you didn’t think it would be that cold — it’s the peak of autumn after all but it’s extra chill today, the hair on your skin rising and rising as the winds woosh past the two of you.

Thump! And you feel a weight against your body, you turn — it’s Suguru’s blazer, and the black cloth sits heavy against your shoulders. You wordlessly draw your hands in through the sleeves as you pull the coat closer to your body. You feel so snug you could fall asleep right here in the middle of the street.

“Today was nice,” you say, and as much as this is a mere formality — there is a tinge of gratitude lacing your words. “Thank you.”

Suguru's gaze sought you out, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to say something, but ultimately, he simply nodded as he accompanied that with a soft smile.

There, the two of you continued to stand in silence before Suguru's car finally pulled up to the curb, its engine purring so softly, that you think you could only hear it because the street was empty tonight. 

The driver promptly steps out, greeting you with a courteous smile as he opens the door for you both. 

You settle into the backseat, the plush interior strange but enveloping you in a warmth you can’t deny is comforting. Suguru follows suit, his presence finds itself flush right next to you. The car begins to glide through the city streets.

You wonder why he sat right next to you when this car was big enough for you two to sit separately. He mutters something to the driver, as he asks you for your address. 

And then you two sit in silence before he speaks up after what seems like quite a while.

“I didn’t make you cum,” he says, plainly with no shame.

You glance at the driver, who’s too immersed in the road. You sigh, “It’s fine,” is all you can bring yourself to say. 

“I never let a woman go home without making her cum,” he says.

“Aren’t you cocky?” You smile.

“But I'll take care of that — next time.”

“There’s a next time,” you repeat. “Is there?”

“If that’s okay with you, of course.”

“That’s… okay with me,” you say as a smile tugs on your lips, as you flop your head onto his shoulders.

The lofty tune playing in the background finds your ears and even though you don’t recognize it, it prompts you to hum it, the hum brewing from what can only be muscle memory. 

“You listen to Bobby Timmons?” He asks. 

You hum, as you turn to look at him. “Apparently so,” you mutter against his shoulder as another wave of fatigue passes through your body.

“Why did you ask me to join you, by the way, Getou Suguru?”

“I liked your dress,” he mentions.

“Right,” you sigh. “But why? What else?”

“I thought you were pretty,” he says plainly. “And you looked kinda miserable, and it made me want to buy you a drink or take you dancing or something.”

“Ah,” you chuckle, a wave of energy leaving your body at that. “I guess the story wouldn’t start without a man with a savior complex,” you muse with a light chuckle.

He chuckles and it reverberates against your body, and for some reason, it satiates you.

You nestle in a bit further into him as you focus your tired gaze on the lights outside that swish past you as the car continues to glide into the night. 

[theresattrpgforthat]

THEME: System-Neutral Settings (Fantasy Edition)

Sometimes what you need, rather than a new ruleset, is a setting that makes your system sing. These are a series of system-neutral settings that you can pick up, borrow from, or use wholesale in a game of your choice! 

All of these settings would work very well in fantasy or fantasy-like games.

Into the Riverlands, by Ostrichmonkey Games.

The Riverlands rests at the heart of the world. A great current of life and movement that winds and weaves its way through the mountains and valleys of the central continent. The Riverlands stretch from the south to the far north, acting as the lifeblood of continental travel and trade.

The Riverlands are a region of vibrancy and mystery. A colorful mosaic of peoples that call it home, and the strange twilight forest that surrounds it. Explore the bustling and vibrant City of Bridges, the mysterious and primeval Forest, the distant and crumbling Empire, and even further afield.

The backgrounds of The Riverlands have interesting themes, from the mercurial Trickster-Poet to the strange Forest Dweller, to the patient Marsh Apiarist. Picking up a game that is very light on rules, such as Tunnel Goons or Into the Odd, would allow you to slot in a character that fits inside the Riverlands without having to carry as much of the dungeon-delving as traditional OSR games. 

Ultraviolet Grasslands and the Black City, by WTF Studio.

The Ultraviolet Grasslands and the Black City is a tabletop role-playing game book, half setting, half adventure, and half epic trip; inspired by psychedelic heavy metal, the Dying Earth genre, and classic Oregon Trail games. It leads a group of ‘heroes’ into the depths of a vast and mythic steppe filled with the detritus of time and space and fuzzy riffs.

This game is designed with a d20 game in mind but much of the setting feels very fitting for an OSR-style regardless of the dice you use. There are 200 pages of interesting locations with encounter tables and plot seeds. Some of the locations in this city include The Porcelain Citadel, The Steppe of the Lime Nomads, The Glass Bridge and The Forest of Meat. The world is weird and resists the tones of high fantasy by populating the world with insectoids, fungal colonies, strange drugs and ancient machines. If you want acid fantasy that mixes the in a bit of weird science or post-apocalypse, this is the setting for you. The designer of this setting also has a free player guide, as well as a creature generator supplement. 

Into the Wyrd and Wild, by Feral Indie Studio.

Beyond the reach of roads, past the scope of mortals there is a darkened place. A shadowed tree-line where no-one dares cross and whose boundaries go undisturbed.

This is not the woods of peaceful fey and beast, but the dark and twisted children’s tale that kept you full of terror. It is a world of fear, madness, and bloodshed; ruled over by the uncaring watch of ancient trees. There is no bargaining with the primal forces that rule the uncivilized world, as you have nothing they could ever want.

The woods do not care for you. Never forget that.

Another dark fantasy setting, Into the Wyrd and Wild includes more than a list of beasts and NPCs for the characters to encounter. It includes a way to think about money in the setting, how to emphasize exhaustion, and various other rules that demonstrate the danger and violence to be found inside the Wilds. One of my favourite sections of the book is about the Court of Broken Branches, a faction built out of abandoned children, stitched up with silver stitches and led by a magical Queen. An incredibly evocative setting and a top-tier piece of work in terms of design.

Guidebook to the Viridian Maw, by Orbis Tertius Press.

This 24-page PDF of the digest-sized zine contains fodder for a wilderness sandbox campaign in the Viridian Maw: an overgrown meteor crater, mutated and reshaped by fungal influence. To get a sense of it, check out the free download for the one-page version of the setting.

Everything is system neutral & stats agnostic, though the material is written with genre assumptions leaning toward D&D/OSR games (but usable for games like Apocalypse World or Dungeon World, too).

If you want a game that sinks your players deep into a thick, dangerous forest, this is a great option for you. There are tons of great descriptions of beasts and plants that your characters can encounter, including Driftnettle, a floating kelp-like creature that prey on the unaware and asleep, and the Sporehorn elk, a symbiotic partnership between an elk and a colony of fungi. Much of the encounters you’ll find in this zine will prompt changes to characters that make them weirder, so it might be a good idea to let your players know about that before playing in this setting.

This game works for dark fantasy, but I’ve also used it as inspiration for a Changeling: the Lost game as well!

Into the Sea Woods, by Diwata Ng Manila. 

The Sea-Woods is the way it has always been: just beyond the village, across a wall that bars the rest of the roots from coming forward. No one ever knew why that wall was built. Was it meant to keep the Woods out or keep the Village in? One thing's for sure, things changed when a tree stood up from its spot and punched a part of the wall until it collapsed. It then promptly walked deeper into the woods, clearing through a small path.

Never heard of a tree walking before? Ah, then you really must be new here, aren't you?

This is a small collection of micro-settings that are whimsical and evocative. This is more of a friendly forest than a scary one - great for setting a Studio-Ghibli kind of tone. There’s a bit of a formatting issue with the current version, but the ideas present in each setting give a great amount of inspiration for making locations that feel safe and yet unique for your play group. My favourite is the Cabin, a house that always has a warm cup of tea and a freshly made bed, despite having no visible caretaker. Rumour has it the Keeper only appears at night, and if she does, she’ll bet her heart on a game of poker. I've also used inspiration from this setting in a Changeling game before, to great success!

The Gardens of Ynn, by Dying Stylishly Games.

The Gardens of Ynn is a point-crawl adventure set in an ever-shifting extradimensional garden. Each expodition generates its route as it explores, resulting in new vistas being unlocked with every visit. It's a big garden full of whimsy and delight and surreal perils. 

The Gardens of Ynn are a constantly re-arranging set of gardens that act as a magical maze. As a point-crawl adventure, this is a great option for a point-crawl game, but it might also be an interesting piece of inspiration for a horror game of some kind. This book begins with some basic lore about the Gardens themselves, followed by a d20 table that adds how deep you are in the Gardens to determine which area you happen upon next. Each area has a description, and many areas have additional roll tables to determine what can be found, or what kinds of encounters you might find within.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Ten.

Thank you very much to all of you still keeping up with this :)

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,556

Warnings - 18+ only. Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

“She’s gonna be a spoilt princess. I could fucking kill Bryn, if she weren’t dead already.” 

The way John viewed the scene before them so adoringly did not match his lightly delivered vexation, him and Polly standing and watching the heartwarming sight of Katie being led up and down the driveway aboard her new pony, Bryn's Christmas gift to her. “We agreed on a fucking rocking horse, and she goes and buys a bloody Welsh Section C!”  

“They’re a good pony for a child to begin on, so I’m told,” Tommy spoke as he joined them, a mischievous smile playing his lips as John turned with narrowed eyes. 

“You were in cahoots with her, weren’t ya?”  

He sniffed, lifting his chin. “Heels down, Katie! That’s it!”  

“Don’t fucking avoid the question, Tom!” 

His laugh rumbled, watching as Bryn circled them around at the top of the drive and ran back up again, the little dun coloured pony trotting along neatly as her new owner squealed and giggled with delight from the saddle. “Might’ve lent a hand in the purchase.”  

John continued to mutter, chewing on his toothpick as Polly gave him a shove with her elbow. “Oh, come on, John. Like you didn’t buy out half of Rackham’s toy department for her as it was! A pony isn’t that different to some of those fancy rocking horses they had there, too. Have you seen the price some of them fetch? Holy shit.” 

“Yeah, but a real horse ain’t got its hooves nailed to a bit of wood, has it? A real horse eats a fuckload of hay and needs shiny bits of expensive metal nailing to its feet, and everything else that comes with ‘em! Bloody money pits, they are.” 

“John?” Tommy questioned, placing his hand onto his shoulder, his brother still viewing him from under a somewhat furrowed brow. “You aren’t exactly short of a bob or two now, are you? Stop being a misery and look how happy your little girl is. My stable lads will look after the pony, and Katie can come up here whenever she likes to ride him.”  

“Yeah, and that’s all gonna be on me, ain’t it, since fanny Anne over there is conveniently asleep all fucking day!” His continued pissed off splutters had his aunt and brother in soft fits, fanny Anne herself overhearing his protests.  

“Tommy is right, John,” Bryn called, halting her jog as she and Katie arrived back with them. “Stop being a misery.” Lifting Katie from the pony, she placed the tot down, watching her run back into the house as one of the stable boys led her favourite Christmas present back to the stables. John shook his head, pulling her close as the others entered the house. 

“For that, you’ll go over my fucking knee, Brynhild.” 

“Oooh,” she purred, stroking his cheek with her fingernail. “Is that a promise?” 

His hand found the round of her bum, smacking it hard several times. “Get in the fucking house.” 

Christmas Day dinner was always eaten on the evening in the Shelby household, the day itself preceded by gift giving and light snacks, plenty of port and whiskey, and a jolly good time had by all. John had felt a little bit out of sorts for not having Bryn by his side until 5pm when the sun had finally melted into the wintery horizon, Katie too making her displeasure known. 

It had been tricky, deciding what to tell the child in order to explain why she only ever saw Bryn in the evenings, John deciding simplicity was the best. “Sunlight makes her poorly, pige, so that’s why we only see Bryn at nighttime.” She’d taken her father’s word as easily as he’d delivered it, luckily. He’d reveal the truth to her when she was old enough to understand what it meant to be a vampire, feeling that four years old was much too young to truly grasp the concept.  

Before the merriment could continue, the matter of the spy locked up in the butler’s pantry had to be dealt with, Bryn, John and Polly going down to see to it themselves while everyone else assembled in the lounge. John picked up the telephone where Bryn had left it the previous night before descending the steps, the three of them waiting until the coast was clear of serving staff who were bustling around.  

“Good evening, young lady,” Bryn spoke as they entered, finding a very disgruntled looking Helen on the opposing side of the door. “I believe you have a telephone call to make, hmm?” 

The girl wanted nothing more than to scream for help, cry out the injustice done to her, but she knew no ears within the household that could hear would come to her aid. She was alone, discovered as a spy, with thirty pounds to show for her trouble. Taking the receiver she was handed, she made the call, uttering the lie she had been fed while the vampire who had instructed her stared unflinchingly, taking the phone away again once she was done.  

“Now I shall escort you upstairs to pack your belongings, as Mr. Shelby has directed me to escort you from the property as swiftly as possible,” she spoke, while John untied her bindings one by one, Polly observing from the corner.  

Shoving Helen in Bryn’s direction, he picked up the rope, beginning to coil it in his strong hands, watching the way his vampire lover viewed him do so with keen interest. “Don’t think I’ll put all of this back where I found it.”  

Bryn returned the wink he gave her before escorting Helen out, leaving him and Polly behind in the pantry, the latter letting out a long breath before picking up a bottle of gin and pulling the cork out.  

“Well, that’s that almost done with.” Holding the bottle to her lips, she downed a mouthful, her face pinching as she swallowed. “Fuck, I don’t know how people can drink this shit! Tastes like perfume.” 

Going into his pocket, John retrieved his hip flask, unscrewing the cap and taking a long glug of the whiskey within, passing it to his aunt. “Me neither.” Taking the flask back, he swigged from it again, sighing as he screwed his eyes tightly shut. “We can’t trust no one. I ain’t even sure that she’s the only one who’s been sent by ‘em. Surely Edward wouldn’t be so fucking stupid as to only send one down here, eh?” 

“One’s all it takes, John. Besides, if it was anybody else in the house with her, reason dictates they likely would have freed her and ran for it while we were all sleeping, regardless of Bryn’s little blood link insurance policy,” Polly advised, lighting up a cigarette. “You’re right, though. This is the time we circle the wagons. Any new people sniffing around should be treated even more suspiciously than usual. I’m going to have a word with Bryn, too. I’ve been thinking. Those tattoos of hers, lovely that they are, are a fucking giveaway. She needs to extend her makeup down from her face and neck, or not show off her tits quite as much.” 

“Shame,” John sniffed, lighting himself a cigar, “they’re fucking cracking tits.” 

She rolled her eyes, opening the door. “Come on, you bloody letch. Let’s see to her getting the fuck off the property.” They headed back up the stairs, hovering by the door only a short time before Bryn and Helen joined them, the latter clutching her small bag in a tight grip. The outside air was crisp, a smattering of snow still present on the ground as she was marched away from the homestead and up the driveway. 

“How am I to get away from here now? Where do I stay?” 

Polly laughed a little bitterly, a final drag taken on her cigarette before she flicked it away. “Should have thought of that before, shouldn’t you, girl?” 

“Could I please have a car take me into town?” 

It was Bryn who laughed this time, her hand reaching out to cup at the back of her neck. “There is no point, Helen. You shan’t be leaving the property.” With a snap, her fangs bared, gleaming white through the darkness. “Ever.”  

Like lightning, her mouth clamped onto her neck, her hand muffling Helen’s scream as she began to drain her. Polly’s eyes rounded in horror, John a little taken aback, but more accepting of the outcome. Bryn wasn’t stupid; he had wondered if she truly intended to let the Rasmussen spy leave with her life intact.  

As soon as she felt her heartbeat still, her body was dropped onto the drive, Bryn licking her lips before receding her fangs once more.  

“Oh, Polly,” she sighed, placing a hand upon her hip as she gestured to the corpse. “Surely, you did not forget what I am beneath the charming woman you are coming to know, hmm? You might not have grounds to fear me, but anybody who crosses me does.” 

“If I did, Brynhild, you’ve certainly reminded me. Holy shit,” she spoke, lighting herself another cigarette.  

“I couldn’t risk her leaving here with only her word that she would say nothing. If someone’s word can be bought, then it is not to be trusted.” Looking down at the corpse, she felt not an ounce of anything, the coldness in her vampiric nature not stirred at all. “She served her purpose; did the job she was paid for. Now, she can do no more.” 

“I suppose Tommy gave you his blessing?”  

Not much got past Polly. “Indeed, he did. Now, can one of you tell me where I might find a shovel?”  

“Round by the stables, next to where they keep the saddles an’ all that.” John told her, Bryn disappearing and reappearing in a flash. Polly headed back to the house, John watching as Bryn struck into the frozen ground, the soil crumbling like sand under the power she wielded the shovel with. Usually, it would have taken two grown men about an hour to dig through frozen soil. For Bryn, she had dug out a deep pit in just over five minutes.  

“Okay,” she spoke, pulling the thirty pounds she had given to Helen the previous evening from her apron, looking down at the corpse with distaste. “Put her in.”  

John rolled the cadaver until it fell from the edge and into the deep pit, thinking what a good job Bryn had done. It was at least eight feet deep. With their inconvenience buried, Bryn also dragging various debris over the unmarked grave so that the plot did not stand out, they headed back to the house arm in arm to join the festivities as if nothing had ever happened.  

Once there, they sat down at the long table with the rest of the family, enjoying the warmth from the fire as they ate dinner, Arthur being Arthur and proposing a very drunken toast that mostly consisted of cussing and hiccupping. Once the children had gone to bed, the later evening saw the arrival of a few close friends, Johnny Dogs among them, John not able to immediately offer an introduction as Bryn had excused herself to tuck Katie in.  

“So, you’re still alive, John? Not come to anything bad on those teeth now, eh?” he joked, John being able to detect the slight trepidation in his demeanour he was attempting to mask with humour.  

“Nah, nothing bad,” he replied, grinning to himself at the memory of just how erotic it was, to be bitten by a vampire. It never failed to do something to him that no human woman could ever compare with. It was fair to say, in fact, that the living had been ruined for John now he’d had a taste of what immortal felt like to fuck.  

Johnny laughed, waving a finger. “Oh, now would you look at that grin on the boy? That’s a grin of a... Jesus fucking wept!” His words were halted by the fact that in the space it took him to blink, John suddenly wasn’t standing alone beside the fire, an elegant looking woman in a dark green beaded dress appearing at his side. “Oh... oh so you’re the shadow walker girl, are ya? Oh, I see now, yes... yes. Um. Yes.”  

Johnny’s usual bravado becoming dented further with every syllable uttered had John snort laughing into his whiskey glass, the gypsy continuing. “Oh now, you understand me apprehension here? There’s a lotta bad blood between my folk and yours, there is?”  

“Not from my personal perspective, Johnny,” she spoke, halting his hand where he rapidly pointed between himself and her, stroking the back of it as she transmitted her energy onto him, calming his nerves. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Brynhild.” 

“You’re a Scandinavian girl, are ya? Oh, you must be with a name like that, eh?” 

“I am Norwegian, yes,” she confirmed, Johnny still taking a time to calm as his muscles stiffened. Bless his heart, though. He was trying his hardest.  

“Oh well that’s grand, so? I bet you get some fucking terrible winters all the way up there?”  

Bryn gave John a gentle shove as he shook with silent laughter. “We do, yes.” 

“Now tell me, love. You’re not hungry, are ya? Because I know you shadow walkers like the gypsy blood? I don’t want to be getting bitten, so, so if you could keep them teeth away, I’d be thanking you!”  

That was the moment John erupted completely, Bryn not able to bite back her smile. Oh, he was such a card. “Trust me, Johnny. My preferred blood source is standing right next to me.”  

His eyebrows almost vanished off his forehead entirely. “Now there’s a thing?” His eyes darted between them uncomfortably for a few moments. “Well, if that’s what tickles your fancy, John. And, and why not, if you like it? I mean I’m not making aspersions or nothing! If it floats your boat, and um, yours too, Brynhild. I’ll erm, I’ll go and say hello to Tommy now.”  

“Fucking hell!” he wheezed, him and Bryn both in mild hysterics as Johnny shot across the room, calling out to Tommy. “I ain’t ever seen a fella work so hard not to die of fright in all me life!” 

“I’m surprised he didn’t begin to glisten beneath his eyes with the effort, the poor man,” Bryn chuckled, composing herself. “I am sure once he’s used to me, he might calm down a little bit.”  

“I kind of hope he doesn’t, because I’ve never seen Dogs so flustered before and fuck, it’s gonna entertain me for ages, that!” he laughed, pulling Bryn close and kissing her cheek. The gathering lasted into the small hours, John and Bryn the first to depart to their room, Bryn flicking her hand in the direction of the fireplace as soon as they entered. The flames roared into life, the hearth sparkling amber as heat began to sweep through the chill of the room.  

“Right, now you’re probably wondering why it is you ain’t had your Christmas present from me yet,” John began, taking her hands and bringing them to his mouth, kissing her cool fingers as he smiled adoringly at her.  

She began to nod, her grin a little twisted at the corner. “I had thought it to be somewhat lacking, yes, this much is true.”  

His smile grew, while on the inside, his heartbeat began to thrum in frenzy, nerves washing through him. “Well, that’s because I wanted it to be just you and me when I gave it to ya.” Taking a small box from his pocket, Bryn’s hands flew to her mouth with a gasp as she watched him drop down to one knee before her. “Brynhild, I know it hasn’t been long, but you mean more to me than any other woman ever has or will. I love you, sweetheart. Will you marry me?”  

Her eyes filled with tears, nodding rapidly. “Yes! Oh, my various gods above, a thousand times yes!” 

“Good,” he hummed, winking at her as he flipped the box open. “You can have this now.” 

There within sat on a little cushion indent, was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. It was an emerald cut diamond, flanked by an art deco arrangement of smaller ones that all extended around onto the platinum band it was set upon. “It’s engraved an’ all.” 

Taking the ring from the box as he stood, she studied the inside of the band, gasping softly. 

My immortal beloved 

“Oh, John!” Her tears fell like crimson rain as he slid it onto her finger, taking his pocket square so she could dab them away, placing a kiss upon the tip of her nose.  

“Don’t you ever say I can’t be romantic.”  

“I never, ever would, my love,” she told him, falling into kisses that felt never ending as they began to strip one another of their clothes.  

“I love you,” he breathed, moving her hair from her neck. “I love you.” His lips met the side of her throat, hands cupping her waist to lift her. “I love you.” Clasping her tightly to him, he carried her to the bed, lying her down, thinking how he’d never seen a woman look at him in the way she was in that moment, his mouth falling to hers once more.  

His bee stung lips closed in a suck upon the pebbled peak of her nipple, fingers trailing through the petals of her cunt, pushing inside her, slick wet awaiting his touch. The rotation he used had her hips bucking against his hand, Bryn clasping his face and kissing him with filthy indulgence. Her groan poured out rich and rumbling, especially when his thumb moved to rub sparks at her clit.  

She was virtually dizzy with pleasure when he finally replaced his fingers with something much thicker, his mouth sucking lilac welts against her neck. His body became flecked with the goose pimples from the sensual glide of her nails down his back, charging across his freckled skin like a herd of wild horses. His arm trailed down her body, hooking beneath her leg and levering it forward until it touched her chest, his hand grasping her throat as he pinned her to the bed.  

The way it allowed his cock to sink in deeper had her wailing, teeth nibbling along her jaw, tongue following the patterns of the tattoos that swirled across her chest. His girth dragged at her, making her wetter around him, John utterly saturated with the gloss of her arousal as his hips began to drive like a piston.  

“Fuck.” He gritted, teeth grazing her throat, the wild heat rising between them both, his mouth swallowing down each of her little cries as their lips met, whispering his love tenderly. It was a heavenly juxtapose to how brutally he began to fuck her.   

Their kisses became magmatic, his forehead pressing to hers as he stared unflinchingly into the crystal blue of her eyes, until the fluttering of her cunt had him closing his eyes tightly, burying his mouth at her neck as he groaned almost helplessly.   

He lost any tentative threads of control, his thrusts staccato, cock making constellations burst through the hug of her molten walls, Bryn’s nails digging into his shoulders as she clung to him, rolling her hips up to meet each barbarously delivered thrust. The lightning jumped from strike point to strike point as the storm swelled and crashed, her entire body alight as he pulsed jets of hot cum within her.   

Utterly spent, breathless and all that was electrifying ebbing away, the sparks still gently fizzed through them as they stroked one another, sharing tender kisses. Everything was warm, serene and lazy, words of love whispered, adoration abounding. He fell asleep still inside of her that night, Bryn enjoying his warmth before gently moving him beneath the covers, getting up to go and sit upon the wide windowsill. 

Watching the diamonds sparkle upon her finger, she looked out into the pale blue of the moonlight, her eyes glancing back to where John slept. She knew that running was no longer an option, and it should never have been. An existence exiled from her offspring, standing behind those of power for protection, driven by her fear of being captured again was not who she was.  

Closing her eyes, her memories took her back over a thousand years, back to the siege upon Mercia, Bryn stood before a heathen army of a hundred Vikings, her heathen army. She heard her own bellowing war cry, their advancement descending the great hill in which they had waited atop, running into the valley to meet the oncoming men, while from the east and west, the remaining two hundred of her army had encircled the Mercian’s entirely.  

Wiping out those who stood in her way was in her blood. She had lived and breathed it in her human life, after all. Now, she had to find her way back to it in order to secure her future. Now was no longer the time for hiding. Now was the time to remember who she was.  

Now was the time for war.  

[singsweetmelodies]

Piarles + church ⛪️

digging through my inbox again for another one of my 5-sentence fic prompts from a year ago, because earlier tonight, i wrote this piarles drabble, and then Tia said:

well, my darling friend, my most favourite enabler and idea-giver: this isn't quite 25 chapters, but i couldn't resist. love you SO MUCH!! and here you go - the "after" section you requested 🤭❤️💙

Charles takes his first step into the church, and his breath catches. He might not be religious in any way, but he cannot deny that there is something about this place.

The inside of the church is lit up with a light that feels golden, spilling in through the door behind him and transforming, somehow, when it enters the church. Tall, graceful marble pillars stretch up to the domed roof, their fastenings etched with intricate gold carvings which catch and reflect the ethereal light.

In front of Charles stretches a long, marble-floored aisle with rows and rows of wooden pews on either side. The people sitting in those pews - all of Charles and Pierre's closest loved ones - seem touched by some kind of radiance, alight and glowing with happiness and love.

And at the end of the aisle... at the end of the aisle is the altar; a beautiful, imposing thing with its lighted candles and carved marble sanctuary and red, red cloth - but Charles is really only interested in the man who stands before it.

Pierre. Pierre, his best friend, his soulmate, and the love of his life.

Pierre, who is wearing a black-and-white suit with a blue tie the same colour as his eyes (and the same colour as Charles' soulmark.) Pierre, whose jaw drops when he sees Charles - and the altar is far away from the door, yes, but not so far that Charles can't see the way that Pierre swallows, hard, before his face splits into the most beautiful smile Charles has ever seen.

I love you so much, he thinks, which has always been his instinctive reaction to Pierre smiling. But it feels like it means more, today. It means everything.

Charles starts walking down the aisle, moving before he's even really processed that he's doing it, and with every step he takes, the soulmark on his chest burns a little warmer.

Charles has wanted this since he was seven years old, and he asked his Maman what her wedding ring was, and she smiled and said, "When you love someone so much that God paints their colour on your body, that's when you get one of these."

Then, when Charles was old enough to understand a little better, and begin yearning for the one person he thought he'd never get to have, he realised he'd probably never get to wear a wedding ring. Because if he wasn't going to marry Pierre, then he knew deep-down that he wouldn't marry anyone. Nobody except Pierre could ever be his soulmate.

But somehow, impossibly, the universe smiled on him, and agreed: nobody except Pierre could ever be his soulmate. Somehow, impossibly, Charles gets to have this.

In the next breath, Charles reaches the altar, and Pierre smiles again. It's softer this time, tender and intimate and full of so much love, and Charles knows it's meant just for him - not for the priest, or for the numerous cameras, or for any of the people gathered. Just for Charles. "Ready, my love?" he asks.

And Charles smiles back, slipping his hand into Pierre's, and he's never meant it more when he says, "Ready."

[writingfics-passingtime]

Song: Fahrenheit - Azee

With Marc Spector x fem reader

(I think this may fit well with the Outlaw fic 👀)

Lovely anon, thank you for this request! Definitely feels like Outlaw and that tough-guy reader, and I had fun writing that type of reader character again.

I completely failed at writing something drabble-length but my house, my rules to break. The urge to turn this into such a long fic was and is so fucking strong… sorry for how I left this one 😅 I hope you like it 💜

Compromise

This one-shot is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song prompt: Fahrenheit

Pairing: Marc Spector x female reader

Words: 2450

CWs: Some swearing, mentions of violence

There’s a light on in an upstairs window.

A shadow ebbing through the soft warm glow tells Marc that it wasn’t left on by mistake; there’s someone else inside. But another intruder wouldn’t have turned a light on, unless they were dead stupid, so whoever’s inside is allowed to be.

He’ll have to be careful.

It’s a little past two in the morning when Marc sticks a pick into the keyhole of a maintenance entrance and enters the great stone building. As to be expected in this old library, no alarm or security camera pings the signal detector on his watch. He relaxes, still keeping his steps quiet, and hopes that this strange directive from Khonshu would remain simply strange and not complicated.

“Why do you need me to steal an old book?”

“It’s not a book in the way your human mind is limited to understand,” Khonshu explained. Marc didn’t pretend to look interested or unbothered, but some secret place found relief in the lack the command to end another evil life.

“The Ennead Codex contains matters of great importance, and it is in danger of falling into the hands of those who wish to access the underworld.”

Whatever that means, Marc thought. He didn’t question it further. Really, he didn’t care all that much. It was just another task from his master.

Without many more words, Khonshu told Marc where the sacred manuscripts had been hidden for the past several decades. They’d been moved to this seemingly insignificant library in a small town.

Hidden in plain sight.

As Marc lifts a brass handle and slips through a dark walnut door into the main chambers of the library, he doesn’t bother donning the suit. He’d probably slip in and out undetected, harnessing his years of covert ops.

For a small town, the room is towering and impressive and beautiful. Filtered through a expanse of glass in the ceiling, moonlight casts its judgement across the carved stone pillars of the rotunda. Patches of dark blue carpet are dimly aglow with the help of the night sky, until Marc casts his own shadow across them.

He walks past the circular desk that sits in the dead centre of the room, now having clocked the sign for the Reference section where Khonshu said the Codex may be hidden.

The shelves are shrouded in darkness as he approaches and searches for the number “202.” He doesn’t get very far before the hairs on the back of his neck pique his fight or flight.

His right hand meets the gun at his side, pointer finger itching to meet the strength of the trigger, and a small clicking noise on the other side of the room sends him slipping behind a pillar.

He waits, listens, tries to discern where the sound came from. Footsteps. Coming towards the centre of the room.

Towards him.

Marc slows his breathing to keep it quiet. He wonders if the other presence in the library can sense him in the way he could sense them. Sure, years of tactical training hone the senses, but there’s also a distinct human instinct that tells someone when they’re not alone. He swallows hard when he remembers that it’s possible this other presence is not human.

“I know you’re in here,” a voice echoes through the aisles and up to the ceiling. Sounds human enough. She doesn’t sound afraid so she probably has a weapon. Marc tightens his grip on the gun, readying to draw.

“Come on out,” you command, sounding a little impatient.

You don’t declare a weapon. He doesn’t hear the safety of a pistol disengage, or the cocking of a shotgun, so he emerges from the shadows with a hand on his holstered gun.

You look sharp and powerful, standing in the centre of the room. Empty hands hang by your side - no visible weapon - you tilt your head, intrigued when you see the intruder. The light of the early morning moon chisels harshly against your features, projecting something familiar and severe towards the man who’d broken in.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is accusing. You take a step towards him, head lowering to show him an unwavering, disarming stare. There’s a flicker of hostility and a glint of gold in your eyes that numbs his tongue just long enough to be too long. “English?” You stop walking and set your jaw. You look like a normal person.

“Yeah, English,” Marc finds his words and quickly assesses you, your stance, the outline of your body. There’s no bulkiness to your clothing, there’s no tension that gives away a readiness to strike; you’re no threat to him. There’s time to grab the book and get out before the small-town cops arrived.

“I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. No one needs to get hurt.” He says it as he turns away from you and you immediately call out after him.

“I won’t let you take it.”

He turns back and narrows his eyes in question.

“I know what you’re here for,” your fingers begin to curl into fists, your chest rises with a breath of preparation. “You need to leave. Now.”

Marc’s eyes flick to your growing battle posture, and he begins to summons the suit.

The exhales of the old pages lining the bookshelves glitter dust through the streams of moonlight. The same moonlight from which Khonshu’s vessel draws the power he begins to feel pulsing through his fingertips, through his chest and the back of his head. He lowers the hand from his gun and looks you dead in the eye. Marc sees another glimmer of gold. It was so fast, if he’d been blinking he’d have missed it. He juts his chin in challenge. “Who are you?”

“Leave,” is your only answer. “I won’t tell you again.”

The room fills with a gentle thundering the second your hands close into fists. Books, across every shelf, buzz with a strange power. The light fixtures are barely swinging, there’s no dust falling from the ceilings, but the shelves are alive with a ferocity you held. No more time to waste.

Lunar silver fills Marc’s vision as the sacred suit fixes tightly around him. He can’t leave here without that Codex. He’s fully prepared to fight you for it.

He positions himself into a stance ready to defend and to attack, watching with bated breath as you see his suit take place. The moment the ceremonial garb fits the last swath to Marc’s skin, you raise your fists.

The room falls quiet. The books fall still.

Marc waits, he listens, he watches as you determine he’s a bigger threat than you’d thought. It looks like you’re bleeding energy to hold your fists above your head, like you’re holding great power. Then, he notices the stream of moonlight begin to dilute. A warm, golden light begins emanating from the bookshelves. From the books themselves.

In a move too swift to predict, you draw your arms down towards your chest and fall to one knee.

A thread of light shoots from what looks to be every page in the room, blasting towards you before he has the chance to blink. Marc has to shield his eyes and again duck behind the pillar to protect himself from a glare so bright he was sure it rivalled the sun’s surface. It’s overpowering, debilitating, even through his tightly shut eyes, he throws his face against the crook of his elbow until he can sense the light begin to wane.

He emerges from the pillar fully prepared to attack, but stops in his tracks when he sees you rise to your feet.

You had transformed.

In a way that was all too familiar.

Golden cuffs circle your wrists, upper arms, your collar adorned with twists of gold and ivory. The breastplate of your armour is blanched leather bordered in the bones of an ancient being. A white cloth drapes around your waist, falling halfway down your legs. Your shins are wrapped in the same cloth, down to where your ankles are cuffed in gold above your bare feet.

Marc hold up his hands in surrender when he eyes the long golden staff in your white-knuckled grip. Not because he thought he couldn’t win, but because it looked like something he’d seen before. “I think we’re on the same side here.”

You smirk, scoff through your nose and point the staff at him. “Anyone attempting to steal the Ennead Codex is on no side of ours.”

“I’m not trying to steal it,” Marc drops the hood and lets the cloth peel back from his face. To show you his eyes in an appeal for trust. You didn’t waver. “I was sent to retrieve it.”

A raised eyebrow tells Marc that, to you, it’s the same fucking thing.

He holds his breath and asks, “Who do you serve?”

He watches you examine him. His suit. He watches as you realise you have a lot more in common than you’d care to admit; somehow, somewhere along the way, your lives ended up in the hands of beings too powerful to comprehend.

You don’t lower your staff as you say, with pride and strength in your voice, “I am the Scribe of Seshat. Tasked with protecting the Ennead Codex, and any knowledge those would seek out to use for destruction.” Marc takes a step forward and you don’t like that. With a single nod up, you counter, “Your turn.” Your grip on the hook-ended staff tightens. He doesn’t flinch.

“I am the Fist of Khonshu. Tasked with protecting travellers of the night.” He only stops when he’s a step away from the end of your staff. “Khonshu sent me to retrieve the Codex.”

You pull the sharp hook away, planting the lower end back on the floor beside your feet, and the books thunder for half a second. Again, Marc doesn’t flinch.

After several moments of tense, insular processing, you fix your eyes on a shelf behind your intruder and you begin to look nervous. “Seshat said this day would come.” You then meet his eye with an openness he hadn’t expected. “I just didn’t think it would be this soon.”

“Seshat doesn’t sit on the Ennead Council,” Marc subtly probes, keenly watching the way you’d react.

“No,” you confirm. “Never wants to. The only reason she has an Avatar is to keep them at bay. Seshat wants nothing to do with the Council…” you begin to walk past him, pausing at his side to add, “Especially Khonshu.”

You keep walking so Marc turns his body towards you, and don’t tell him to stay or back off so he follows as you enter the darkened rows.

Your barefooted steps are automatic and confident, carrying you to near the end of a nondescript shelf of reference material. After a moment of pause, reverence, and reflection, you place your hand on the spine of a thick book and chant a few words under your breath. It glows gold for a moment before changing appearance and sliding out into your hand.

Marc watches you caress the edges of the pages and look at the Ennead Codex as if it were something you truly cared for. Truly believed in.

He holds out a hand and promises, “I won’t let anything happen to it.”

Your head snaps towards him and he sees a startling intensity in your eye, along with those flecks of gold. “I know you won’t,” you start, “because the Codex isn’t leaving my sight.” Marc opens his mouth to protest but your protective grip tightens and you set your jaw. “I am the keeper of this Codex. I go where it goes.”

Marc shakes his head once. “Not gonna happen.”

“It’s not up for debate.”

“Don’t make me take it from you.”

A new low rumbling begins all around. Your eyes don’t leave each other as a smirk peaks into the corner of your mouth. “A sliver of waning moonlight versus a roomful of knowledge… do you like your chances against me in my domain, Moon Knight?”

Marc’s stomach lurches, though he gives no outward indication. Moon Knight. He didn’t tell you that name.

Your eyes burn gold, brightening every moment you build the power you’re pulling from the sources around you. Marc bites his tongue and assesses the situation as the library fills with the show of the ancient being you carry the mark of.

Marc arrives at the conclusion that, if you are indeed a vessel for Seshat, fighting you here would be a losing battle. He has no advantage. So, like a good Marine, he knows when to call the retreat. He knows when to compromise, and he does so with a gentle lift of his hands in surrender.

Your eyes return to normal, the books stop readying themselves for battle, and you brush past him with the Codex in your hands. He turns, recovering quickly, and starts after you. “How d’you-”

“Know that name?” You suddenly stop and turn. Marc’s body almost crashes against yours but he stops on a dime and plants one foot behind him, giving you two at least a little bit of personal space. You look him up and down before levelling him with a single look. “How do I, Avatar of the great Goddess of Wisdom and Knowledge, the goddess who invented writing and record-keeping… how do I know who you are?”

Your rhetorical question hangs in the air like the smirk lingers on your lips. After a few moments, Marc nods and sticks his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “We’ll go together to Khonshu, then go our separate ways.”

After, in silence, you reminisce on what Seshat had told you about this day that would come, you nod. “Fine. But if you try to take this from me, I’m gone.”

He gestures around and tries to look unimpressed. “Do you need to do a little light show to change outfits or…?”

He drops the suit in a matter of seconds, before showing a forced and sarcastic smile. Without breaking eye contact, your own garb seamlessly transforms back into the simple clothes you’d been wearing when you first walked in. Your height lifts by an inch when the sneakers finally form around your feet, and you don’t waste a second to turn and begin walking back towards the door from which you and Marc both came. “Keep up, Moon Boy.”

Marc huffs a low grunt, takes a deep breath to ground himself, and sets his jaw before following after you.

This was supposed to be a simple in-and-out, not a full-on extraction. He was here for the Codex, and now that you’ll be leaving your power source he’ll have to look after you until gods know when.

U.S. Marine to glorified fuckin’ babysitter…

Khonshu owes him. Big time.