#not violet making a scenes on the front steps

[nosferatuv]

_ BUTCHMENTOR

vi rushed to the biggest , and best butch lesbian she knew .

domsevika subtop?vi subreader. vi is stupid but kinda funny fingering. kinda boring! characterai

"are you sure she likes that?"

"quit talking. come here."

vi steps closer to the lewd scene; you spread out on the bed and sevika's fingers slowly massaging your clit, working you up. your face is scrunched up, in pleasure of course, which apparently concerns vi?

"just talk to her, idiot." sevika huffs, her free hand keeping your thigh pressed to the bed as she leans down to your achey cunt, letting a glob of split fall from her mouth and watching it spread between your folds.

"hi."

your eyebrows furrow through your pleasure, the older woman rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "fucking.... never mind."

vi shifts closer to you, her cheeks flushed and pupils dilated. she was stupidly horny. she had fucked a few women before, but not as thorough as sevika, who clearly knew how to work a woman.

"stop looking so nervous," sevika huffs, nodding down to where her fingers pressed against your clit. "take over. i'll talk you through it."

vi shakes off her nerves— god, she could jump across rooftops, break people's jaws, pierce her own ears etc etc... scared of pussy? what kind of a lesbian was she?

her hand replaces sevika's, mimicking was she was doing before and rubbing sev's spit into your cunt, her heart jumping when you moan.

"so— she's so wet.."

sevika chuckles lowly, leaning down to you. her human hand comes up to your jaw, guiding your attention to her momentarily. "bare with her, yeah?"

you nod shakily, willing to be the little guinea pig for vi to learn how to make a woman cum.

after an awkward run in with an old hookup who made a mistake of joking about "having unfinished business", followed by the poor girl having to explain that she didn't cum that night, violet rushed to the biggest and best butch lesbian she knew.

sevika couldn't pass up the opportunity to see this nervy puppy embarrass herself in front row seats, and after a surprisingly short conversation with you, here the three of you were.

vi scans your face for reactions as she rubs you, your breathing becoming shakier as you look up at sevika who gently pats your cheek. she had asked about 80 times before you took off your clothes, and during, if you were really... positively.. absolutely, 100 percent sure. she would of asked a 81st time if sevika hadn't smacked her over the head to shut her up.

"is she—"

"she's fine. keep going," sevika ordered, watching vi's fingers. "move 'em lower."

vi's fingers slip lower between your folds, her eyes nervously flickering between her actions, sevika, and you, waiting for some kind of approval or command.

sevika lets out a hum, watching your cunt twitch as vi's fingers circle your entrance. "tease her, don't rush." she murmurs, her thumb rubbing against your inner thigh to keep you steady, also a silent promise that you will cum tonight.

vi does as she's told, her fingers almost slipping inside you before returning to rubbing. her eyes draw back up to your face, appreciating the needy look and your hands holding the sheets, squeezing the fabric impatiently.

"what do you wanna hear, vi?"

violet's head snaps up, her fingers faltering for a second. "what?"

"you wanna hear her beg? she's good at that," sevika shrugs, talking about something so personal as if was the weather.

the pink haired girl finds herself nodding anyway, the last four words apparently enough to convince her. sevika huffs in amusement, "then keep it up."

your body writhes as vi continues to alternate between dipping the tips of her fingers into you and then sliding back up to trace over your clit. sevika keeps you in place, squeezing your thigh occasionally to chill you out.

she knew how needy you could get, and were getting. she was also a little curious on how vi would react when you broke... which was right about...

"please... vi, please.."

at her name being whined between pleas, vi's breath catches and her fingers pause on your clit, her face flushing.

"there is it," sevika practically purrs, her big hand sliding up to your abdomen and keeping your shifting hips against the bed, her eyes locking with the puppy's. "look at her moaning your name already. you must be doing something right, huh?"

she hopes it gives vi some confidence, but she remains frozen.

"snap out of it," she grunts, leaning closer to vi who takes a sharp inhale. "fuck her, or i will."

that seemed to be the right approach. vi huffs and slowly sinks her middle finger into you, gritting her teeth at how tight you were. her free hand wraps around your thigh, just gently holding you open as she moves her finger in shallow, slow thrusts. "she's so—"

"tight? believe me, i know." sevika muses, checking you were okay before barking another order. "add another."

vi groans as she adds her ring finger, the vulgar squelch and filthy moan from your mouth going straight to her own cunt, and probably her wank bank.

"s'fucking dripping for you, vi. she likes you."

sevika's enjoying this way too much, knowing damn well she'll never let violet forget about this night— not that she ever would, god, your moans were practically embedded in her eardrums now.

vi almost whimpers, feeling you squeeze and throb around her fingers as she begins to pump them in and out, your arousal drooling off her digits. "god damn..."

"you feel her clenching?" sevika questions, her big hand splayed over your abdomen and her thumb dipping down to brush over your clit.

vi nods, her eyes glued to your pussy as it sucks her fingers in deeper. "y-yeah, she's— yeah."

"good," sevika murmurs, an almost proud look on her face as she watches vi pleasure you. "curl your fingers up a little."

it takes her a second, but vi's fingers eventually nudge against your g-spot. a louder moan falls from your mouth, your head falling back on the bed.

sevika hums, feeling your stomach contract under her palm. she doesn't need to say anything, vi is already starting to abuse that spot in a desperate attempt to make you cum, her pace gradually speeding up.

"not too fast, c'mon now."

vi takes a shaky breath to chill herself out, shifting her hips on the bed in an attempt to ease the ache between them. her hand moves from your thigh to take over sevika's thumb lazily toying with your clit, instead giving you direct and firm stimulation.

her eyebrows are knitted together in concentration, her arm aching but she had no intent of stopping, not when your body starts to tense and your legs begin to twitch and tremble.

and especially not when you start panting her name.

"... is she—?"

"she is perfectly fine, vi," sevika rolls her eyes, keeping your shaky body in place. "just make her cum, yeah?"

╋━ taglist.

@uhh-lana @pearlcigs @abbyspup @sunrxxyz @inui-ii @evabby @graciedollie @starrrcane @lilyyx0 @444fernz @abbysbae @tqlepatia @nvr4getme @lesbodietcoke @starting6over @2012wannabe @sapphicloverwlw @lesbpup @jaywritessometimes @jinxedbambi @tohoko @danfelog @fortluocha @ocharavitys @trizxyp @aelizreal @luxmith @imlovewithpixels @halle5s @soniiyi

[sea-owl]

https://www.tumblr.com/sea-owl/725002488312365056/im-back-on-my-violet-x-portia-bullshit-this?source=share

There has to be more of this right???

I mean there can be.

Imagine if the widowed lord kept flirting with Portia at these balls driving Violet closer and closer to that Bridgerton jealousy. Finally, one night, she snapped, ordering the carriage driver to take her to Featherington House. Portia was walking up the steps just returning home as Violet stormed out of the carriage.

Portia could see what was coming, a shiver of excitement running through her, but she reme they were still outside. Violet didn't.

"Lady Bridgerton," Portia started to say when the other woman cut her off.

Violet said nothing, but her eye twitched at hearing her title. They agreed on no titles during these times. She crushed the other woman's lips with her own, the force of it sending Poetia back a few steps. Violet simply followed her, refusing to give up the kiss.

"My ladies," Mrs Varley coughed.

Violet and Poetia jumped. Both of them panting, and holding onto one another.

"May I suggest taking this argument to a more private setting?" Mrs Varley said, opening the door a bit wider.

Portia let go of Violet, she began making her way inside. She tried to ignore the few curls Violet tugged loose, the scratches she made on Violet's shoulder. "Yes, we shall. Varley make sure no one comes to disturb us."

"Yes ma'am," Varley replied, shutting the front door.

Portia pinned Violet to her bed, her eyes lit up in fury. "What scene were you making out there? You know better!" She hissed.

Violet bucked up her hips into Portia's. She earned a gasp from the red head, and the dominat hand as she rolled them over. "I could very well ask you the same thing. Flirting with Lord Williams?"

Portia's face scrunched in disgust. "I would not let another man in this house, much less my bedroom!"

Violet smiled, her hand moving lower. "Good."

[prythianpages]

A Light That Never Goes Out | Azriel

Azriel x Rhysand's sister (reader) | The aftermath of Azriel kissing you in front of everyone in the Court of Nightmares.

warnings: angry Rhys, angry High Lord, brief mention of Tamsand, mating bond snapping

word count: roughly 3K, around 3.5K if you read the bonus scene

a/n: This is a part two to this but can be read as a stand alone. I had fun writing this but I worry this sounded better in my head. I was tempted to turn this into a crack fic bc of this trending tiktok sound.

Azriel kisses you, consequences be damned. His hand slides from yours to the nape of your neck, drawing you closer. You kiss him back with the same intensity, years of longing and love pouring into this single moment. Your mind and thoughts tangling with his, the bond between you surging with emotion. Desire and hope. He’s still in disbelief that tonight was the first night he told you he loved you.

But in truth, Azriel had been telling you all along—in every glance, every touch, every kiss that held more than words ever could.

Azriel’s shadows recoil as the two of you pull apart, breathless. The Court of Nightmares had faded away, the two of you lost in each other. It’s just you and him, as it is meant to be…Until the distinctive footsteps of your father approaching echoes throughout the ballroom. Your eyes are wide, too many emotions swirling within their depths. 

But Azriel is relieved that regret is not one of them.

“Azriel.”

The High Lord’s voice is calm and collected but the fury flickering in his violet eyes is unmistakable. He stands no more than two feet away, the authority radiating from him as cold as it is absolute. Beside him, Rhysand watches, his expression unreadable. 

Your father lifts a hand, wisps of darkness and starlight spilling from his fingertips. The orchestra resumes under the silent command and driven by some invisible force, the guests resume dancing and drinking. As if nothing had happened. 

“Come with me,” your father says, his tone leaving no room for argument. His command is directed solely at Azriel. “I’d like to have a word.”

 You try to hold on to Azriel, to keep him close, but he slips his fingers from yours, bowing his head in quiet submission to your father. Without another word, he follows after him. And though his command had been directed solely at Azriel, the weight of the situation falls on the both of you. 

So you step forward, determined to follow after them. But just as you step outside the ballroom, Rhysand grasps your arm, forcing you to a stop.

“You stupid, foolish…,” his voice trails off in frustration. “What have you done?”

You spin on him, eyes flashing with anger as you yank your arm out of his hold. “What have I done? What about what have you done? Planning marriage alliances behind my back? Like I’m some pawn on your chessboard?”

Rhysand’s gaze softens for a brief moment. “Y/n, I–”

“No.” You interrupt sharply, starlight beginning to swirl from the fingertip you point at him. You don’t want to hear his excuse, whatever justification he thinks will make this right. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Cassian and Mor making their way toward you, slipping through the dancing couples and out of the ballroom. 

The starlight seeping from your fingertip glows brighter, ready and poised to attack. However, it’s your words you speak into his mind that make the blow instead.

“You know, if you love that runt from Spring so much, why don’t you marry him yourself?”

Rhysand’s eyes widen, his brows furrowing as the meaning of your words hit him. The revelation that you know his secret. Where he’d sneak off to some nights. Why the scent of crisp rain and earth lingered on him when he’d return. You and Azriel had pieced it together after Cassian had mentioned that his book on Illyrian training and methods suddenly went missing. Given your secret, you and Azriel had kept that information to yourselves, waiting for the moment Rhysand would feel comfortable to tell you himself. 

It takes him a moment to regain his composure, for his gaze to harden again. His lips curl into a snarl–a warning.  “Y/n.”

He leans in forward but you take a step back and winnow away, only one thing on your mind. Finding Azriel.

**

The walk to the High Lord’s private office in the Court of Nightmares is silent but the sense of foreboding is nearly deafening. Azriel is tense, his shadows quiet and burrowing into his leathers. Too many possibilities and consequences storm through his mind, each one more damning than the last.

Does he regret kissing you in front of everyone? No.

That kiss was the first honest, uninhibited thing he’d allowed himself to do in years. It was freeing, exhilarating to be able to show everyone, especially the sons of Spring and Autumn that you were his and he was yours. He could face death for this—for touching the High Lord’s daughter. For kissing you so openly, so brazenly, in front of the entire court.

But why? Why should it be so wrong for him to love you? Because of his birth? The scars of his past that marked him as unworthy? He’s served loyally. Bled for this court.Tortured for this court. 

He’s watched from the shadows as lords and sons, full of false charm, have circled you like vultures, eyeing you as nothing more than a prize to be claimed.  And yet, when he—who knows you, who cherishes you—shows his love, it is considered a crime.

It isn’t fair. But Azriel has never been afforded fairness. 

The heavy doors to the High Lord's office swing open with a wave of his hand, and Azriel steps inside. The air is thick with tension, and every muscle in his body tightens. The High Lord gestures for him to sit, but Azriel bows his head, respectfully declining. Standing feels safer. Less vulnerable. He wonders if his refusal will anger the High Lord further, but the single shadow curling at his ear reports no rising fury.

He can feel the weight of the High Lord’s gaze—it’s heavy, scrutinizing, like the cold press of a blade against his skin. He keeps his eyes forward, even though his heart pounds in his chest. If there’s punishment to be had, Azriel will accept it.

The High Lord moves to his desk, positioned beneath an oculus, where moonlight spills through and dances across his features. He gazes up at the starlit sky as if searching for answers—or perhaps, waiting.

“Normally, this is the part where people like you should be begging for forgiveness, for a way to rectify your mistake.”

Azriel’s jaw tightens. “I haven’t made a mistake.”

“No?” The High Lord’s gaze snaps back to him, piercing as if he could peel away Azriel’s very skin to lay bare his soul. Azriel wonders, for a brief moment, if your daemati powers had been inherited from your father. Could the High Lord see into his mind, his thoughts? Have kept this power to himself all these years as a secret weapon? 

“You sound so sure of yourself,” the High Lord continues, his tone sharpening. “Tell me, how long has this... affair been going on?”

“For decades.” Azriel admits, knowing that there was no use in lying. The truth was already written in the way he kissed you, in the way he looked at you as you broke away from the kiss.

“For decades?” The High Lord repeats, his expression darkening, violet eyes narrowing. “You took my daughter’s first dance tonight of all nights.”

Azriel’s silence says everything. Both of them aware that Azriel had taken more than dances, more than a kiss.

“You’ve taken her innocence. You’ve ruined her…” The High Lord continues to seethe in that cool, unnerving tone.

Azriel’s fingers twitch at his sides, fighting the urge to reach for his dagger. Not to defend himself, but because it’s his only comfort in moments like these.

But this is not a battle to be fought with daggers or swords. This is a battle of love, of politics, of status. One he’s had no training for yet one he’s willing to fight. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d fight against all odds.

“Whether she marries Spring or Autumn, she will become a lady of the highest esteem and forge a strong alliance with my court. Laden with all the riches and wonders only a High Lord can offer. What can you offer? You don’t even have a proper last name to give her, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel swallows thickly, the weight and shame of his low-born status crashing into him like the violent current of Illyria’s river. It feels like he’s sinking under it, drowning in it. He knows he can’t offer you what any son of Spring or Autumn could. He had reminded you of that—again and again. 

It’s as if you can feel his doubts creeping back in, the poison of guilt and worthlessness seeping in. Your presence—soft, warm, and steady—enters his mind. You bring forth the memory you had shared with him moments ago on the dance floor again.

“I can’t give you much,” his voice had dropped to a whisper, barely a rasp as he leaned his forehead against yours. His nose brushed against yours, his lips hovering just over your own. “But I can give you everything I have.”

“That’s all I’ll ever need,” you had replied, the words echoing now in his mind, like an antidote to the venom of doubt. That’s all I’ll ever need, that’s all I’ll ever need, that’s all—

“I asked you a question, Azriel.” The High Lord’s sharp voice cut through the memory, yanking him back to the cold, oppressive reality of the Court of Nightmares. “What can you offer in exchange for my daughter?”

Azriel’s knees buckle beneath him before he even realizes it. He drops to the floor, bowing his head low. His shadows stir, swirling around him in a frenzy, urging him to stand. To stop him.

“My life.”

“Your life,” The High Lord muses. He lets out a dark, humorless chuckle. “You love my daughter enough to give your life for her?”

“Yes,” Azriel says, his voice firm and steady, even as his shadows coil tighter around his arms, trying to pull him back from this path. But he stays rooted to the floor. His life, his soul—it all belongs to you anyway. What was it worth, if not to protect you? To be yours?

The High Lord’s eyes narrow as he studies the swirling shadows, dark and restless, wrapping themselves around Azriel’s form. Shadowsingers are rare. Their power is precious. They can see and hear things others can’t. The only known living one kneels before him now. 

Despite his low born status, the Shadowsinger had also proved himself a formidable, Illyrian warrior. A Carynthian. It’s why he appointed Azriel as the Night Court’s spymaster.  

And now this powerful and strong male is offering his life.

To have a Shadowsinger as his spymaster is rare, a gift in itself. To have Azriel’s loyalty, his strength, his skills bound by magic for life. A weapon of mass destruction, at his beck and call. No room for betrayal, no worry over him leaving his court for another.

 All in exchange for your hand in marriage? 

Now, that sounds like a deal.

He lets out a thoughtful hum, voicing his consideration. He could give Azriel a title, raise him from his bastard status. At his will, darkness begins to rise from the floor. The power of the bargain hovers in the air between them, ready to etch itself into both their skins. 

 Azriel finally lifts his head, meeting the High Lord’s eyes with no fear. Only the light of determination. He is willing to give his life to your father if that’s what it takes to be by your side. 

The cloud of darkness begins to separate, its dark tendrils moving toward him, the binding magic poised to seal his fate, to chain him to this bargain for the rest of his life.

But before it can touch his skin, before the deal can be made, a bright light erupts in the room. A sharp hiss escapes the darkness as it recoils, retreating back into the shadows where it had come from. Azriel’s own shadows seem to shudder in relief.

Both Azriel and the High Lord’s heads snap toward the source of the light. You stand at the doors, your eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears, your hands glowing with pure, raging starlight.

“No!” you cry, the word trembling on your lips as you step forward, the glow around you growing even brighter. 

Your eyes lock with Azriel’s and something tightens in his chest, crawling up his rib cage. It’s sharp and breathtaking. His hand grabs at his chest and yours does the same. 

”He will not be your slave,” you say, turning to your father with the same determination flashing in your eyes. “There has to be another way.”

The High Lord’s features morph into a scowl. “Another way? My star, he is a bastard—”

“I love him!” 

That tightening in his chest finally snaps and Azriel’s breath catches. He feels that light in your eyes, perfectly reflecting the one in his. It sears into his soul, as fierce and unrelenting as the starlight glowing from your hands.

Your father doesn’t notice the shift in the air, the change in Azriel’s posture, in his chest. Or in yours.

“You think that means anything?” 

Azriel’s shadows whisper a warning into his ears, of an oncoming raging darkness. Different but similar to the High Lord’s. He barely hears his shadows, too focused on you, on the bond thrumming between you. His mind is consumed with you. 

Mate. Mate. Mate.

“You and mother—” you begin.

“Do you think your mother and I love each other?” The High Lord interrupts sharply, his voice cold and cutting. He breaks out into a laugh.

Azriel snaps out of his trance. Anger flares within him at the shock, the devastation that takes over your features. He watches as you shrink back slightly, his instincts roaring to protect you from any harm, whether verbal or otherwise. 

Because he’s your mate. Because he loves you.

 “You think I would marry your mother, a low born seamstress by choice? What your mother and I have is different. It’s complicated. A special bond.  One that gave me Rhysand and you and–”

A sound like thunder crashes through the room, reverberating off the stone walls as darkness swells in every corner. One moment, Azriel is on his knees. The next, he’s slamming into the cold marble floor, the force of Rhysand’s power pinning him down. Tendrils of Rhysand’s darkness coil around Azriel’s form, fighting with the shadows that instinctively rise to defend him.

“How long?” Rhysand's violet eyes blaze as they burn into Azriel.

“And I am beginning to think you both are nuisances to my existence rather than gifts...” The High Lord mutters followed by an exhausted sigh.

“How long have you been fucking my sister?” His words are a snarl as he slams Azriel harder into the floor, advancing toward him with clenched fists.

“Rhysand!” You let out a cry, rushing to the two males to separate them.

Your brother whips around, his anger igniting into something fiercer at the sight of you. “Stay out of this!” he snaps, his hand raising. He’s too angry, too heated. So much that he doesn't even notice the force of darkness he aims your way.

Rhysand’s magic hits you hard, knocking the breath from your lungs. A choked gasp escapes as you stumble backward, struggling to keep your footing. A burst of bright sapphire explodes from each of Azriel’s siphons, a deep and low growl rumbling from his chest. He breaks free from Rhysand’s magic, standing to his feet. His wings flare behind him, shadows swirling like a storm.

The look in his hazel eyes is nothing short of feral, dark and ancient, a fierce and possessive glint that makes Rhysand falter and surprise flash across the High Lord’s features.

You fall to the ground with a thud, palms scraping against the stone and pain flaring in your hands. Rhysand turns toward you, the anger that had been simmering in his violet gaze immediately dissolving into guilt and regret. “Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t touch her.” Azriel growls, standing in between you and your brother, his shadows forming in an additional protective barrier. Some shadows flutter toward you, helping you stand and bringing you to Azriel’s side. Your hand instinctively seeks Azriel’s, fingers curling into his and you squeeze it, letting him know you’re alright. 

“By the Cauldron…” the High Lord’s voice comes out in a low murmur, his gaze darting between you and Azriel. His eyes narrow as he finally notices the subtle shift in the air, in your scents. The scent of a bond. 

“You two are mates,” he says, tone laced with resignation. Because even he, a High Lord, is not above going against The Cauldron.

It feels like a punch to the gut for Rhysand. His best friend and his sister. Fate’s inevitable design had been right under his nose all along. “What?” Rhysand breathes in shock, chest still heaving from the exertion of his magic.

Azriel’s hand tightens around yours. His gaze softens as he turns to you, the fierce protectiveness from earlier easing into something gentler. And when your eyes meet again, it’s there—the unmistakable light of the mating bond. It shines bright and steady between you. Just like your love for each other does.

 A light that never goes out.

bonus scene

Once the shock of the bond had worn off, the High Lord excused himself, muttering about damage control. “Spring will be the hardest to deal with,” he had said.

Rhysand’s body tensed as his eyes found yours. But you’d only given him a small, reassuring smile. Though it is something you would like to talk about, his secret would remain safe with you.

Your father would soon announce the bond to the Court of Nightmares, already making plans for a grand mating ceremony. You’d much rather have something private, intimate. But a public celebration seemed like a small price to pay for the lifetime you’d get to spend beside the male you loved.

Rhysand turned his gaze back to Azriel, his expression still unreadable. “You never answered my question,” he said, voice calm but edged with something darker. “How long?”

Azriel hesitated before answering, unlike the way he had with the High Lord. This was his best friend standing in front of him. The one he grew up and trained along with, survived the brutality of the Blood Rite with. Rhysand was like a brother to him and he went behind his back for years.

 “A decade.”

“A decade?” Rhysand blinks in surprise. 

A whole decade of secrecy. Of Azriel sneaking around with his little sister. It all made sense now. Why Azriel became more reserved, more private. Why Azriel no longer indulged himself with the pleasures of the females at Rita’s or the Illyrian camps like he and Cassian did. Why you spent more time at the Moonstone palace, instead of the House of Wind, where you had grown up and been raised by a handful of Priestesses. It hadn’t been to learn about the politics of the courts but to be closer to Azriel.

And then, with no warning, Rhysand swings.

The hit lands squarely on Azriel’s jaw, so swift and unexpected that neither you nor Azriel’s shadows had seen it coming. Azriel takes the blow without protest, silently commanding his shadows to stand their ground and not fight back. 

“Rhys!” you snapped, your brows furrowing into a scowl. 

Rhysand huffs, shaking out his hand from the impact. “That’s for going behind my back,” he says. He pauses for a second and then, he lets out a low chuckle. Full of disbelief and relief.

“I’m still angry at both of you,” Rhysand admits, and Azriel lowers his head, bracing for more. “Not because it’s you—though I’ll admit, seeing you together is... strange. But because you kept it from me for so long, putting both of your lives at risk.”

Then Rhysand’s voice softens, his gaze following. “But I’m glad it’s you.”

Azriel lifts his head back up in surprise as Rhysand holds out his hand.

 “You’re a good male, Azriel. Better than most. And I know you’ll protect her. Love her in a way no one else can.”

Azriel stares at Rhysand’s outstretched hand before finally clasping it, the tension between them easing. Your chest warms at your brother’s sincerity.

The sound of footsteps, heavy and hurried, echo through the stone walls. They grow louder with each passing second and moments later, Cassian and Mor appear at the entrance of your father’s study. Cassian braces himself against the doorframe and Mor leans on him, their chests rising and falling rapidly.

It’s clear they’re winded from the endless stairs they must’ve taken to reach the floor of your father’s private study. It was located between the Court of Nightmares and Moonstone Palace, warded so that only those of his bloodline could winnow directly inside.

Their eyes dart between the three of you. 

“What did we miss?”

a/n: hope you enjoyed! here’s a little HC (idk what to call it?) of Rhys’s sis & Az if you’re curious 💙

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

fic tag: @noisyinfluencerstrawberry, @tothestarsandwhateverend, @tulipbite, @kylaisra, @stressed-reader

[mionemymind]

The Actress & The Geek

Summary: A late night practice causes Y/n and Wanda to confess their feelings.

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, Slight Angst

A/n: I might post another one shot like this with a similar layout but different setting, like what if they needed an understudy? Would y’all want that?

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

“Wandaaaa, where are you taking me?” Y/n annoyingly asked. Her newfound friend, Wanda Maximoff, dragged her to the College’s stage room. “I need help practicing my lines and you’re the only person I know who would be up at this time.”

Y/n glanced at the hallway clock, it was close to midnight and by now, Wanda’s friends were either partying or asleep. “I don’t know why you’re panicking so much. Everyone knows you’re going to get the part.”

Wanda pushed through the doors and excitedly ran up the stage, leaving Y/n by the bottom of the steps. “You don’t know that. I heard rumors that Violet might get it over me.” Y/n sighed at Wanda’s poor excuse of a lie. “Now stop being a baby and come over here.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and slowly walked up the steps and in front of Wanda. “Turn to page 214. I’ll start us off, okay?” Y/n reluctantly opened the script and turned to the page. Once Wanda saw that Y/n was ready, she started.

“Did I do something?” Wanda asked nervously, a hint of hurt in her tone. Y/n was stunned for a moment at how quickly Wanda got into character. Not wanting to disappoint her friend, Y/n tried her best to act in the scene.

“What makes you ask that?” Wanda walked away with a sigh as she combed her hand through her hair. “Are you seriously acting clueless right now?” Wanda gave Y/n a ridiculous look.

“Answering with a question doesn’t quite help-”

“You’re avoiding me.” A small pause happened in the script as Y/n and Wanda stared at each other. Y/n turned away, “I honestly don’t know what you mean.”

Wanda groaned and stomped back to Y/n. She spun her around and grabbed her hand. “Quit acting like a child and talk to me.” Wanda’s character was desperate to hear anything from Y/n, her eyes pleaded for some truth.

“I don’t know if I can tell you.” Wanda’s mouth twitched into a frown. She dropped Y/n’s hand and took a step back. Looking at the ground, Wanda played with her hands, unable to look at Y/n. “You used to tell me everything…but now you barely hang out with me anymore.”

Wanda’s eyes started to water, she started to walk away until Y/n’s character held her hand. “If I tell you-,” Y/n groaned as her character didn’t know what the best choice of words was going to be. In a softer tone, she says, “If I tell you…we can’t go back to the way things were.”

Wanda appeared scared of the truth but things had already changed ever since Y/n became distant. So who cares if the truth changes everything? Maybe now it will help this obstacle between them.

“I-,” Y/n’s eyes looked over Wanda’s shoulder, acting as if there was a character back there. “Tell me you’re not in love with him,” Y/n desperately begged. Wanda looked back, her hand still in Y/n’s, and pretended to see somebody.

She faced Y/n again, searching Y/n’s eyes for the meaning behind this. “What?” Y/n pulled Wanda closer, their faces inches apart. “Tell me you’re not in love with him.”

“Why does that matter?” Wanda challenged. Y/n gulped at how little space was between them but still pushed through with the character. “Because if you’re in love with him - I cannot be with you.”

Wanda acted as if someone called her name, but on cue, Y/n cupped Wanda’s cheek and kissed her briefly. “Find me - when you do, tell me you feel the same.” Y/n let go of Wanda’s hand and backed away to the other side of the stage, leaving Wanda at the center.

With wide eyes, Wanda touched her lips, the feeling of Y/n’s lips lingered. Her brain rumbled for the next line, but all she could focus on was Y/n. “Uh Wanda, did you want to finish the scene or?”

“You kissed me,” Wanda whispered to herself, surprised that it happened. “Did you want to kiss me?” Wanda only dreamed of a moment like this ever since she met Y/n back in the fall semester. She remembered bumping into Y/n on day one of rehearsal. Ever since then, they’ve always remained friends, until the day Wanda wanted something more.

In the basement of the party, Wanda sat with a group of her friends that go way back to high school and her castmates from the play. Y/n sat beside her already five shots deep into the night. Everyone was socializing and having a great time as the play had phenomenally gone well.

“We should play spin the bottle,” one of the crew techs said. Everyone was in some agreement wanting to spice the night up. “Okay, I’ll go first,” Steve said. The semester was close to an end and all Steve wanted to do was loosen up. He spent the majority of the semester worrying about his grades, his scholarship, and his football career.

The bottle spun and low and behold, it landed on the very person he wanted to kiss. “You down Bucky?” The liquor in Steve gave him the confidence he needed, otherwise he would have hidden. “You don’t even have to ask.” The two met in the middle for a slow but passionate kiss.

The group screamed with delight as Bucky deepened the kiss, almost going in with his tongue. “Okay you two, break it up!” Bucky pulled away with a charming grin on his face as Steve sat back looking love-struck. “Up next!”

Carol was next to spin, “God, I hope I get a good kisser,” Y/n whispered yelling into Wanda’s ear. The brunette forced a grin as she suddenly felt ill at the thought of someone else kissing you. She tried to think of something clever to say but nothing came out.

Focusing back on the group, Carol had just gotten done kissing Maria, another duo in Wanda’s group that had crushes on each other. It was now Y/n’s turn. She spun the bottle with great anticipation of who she was going to kiss tonight.

Slowly but surely, the bottle was making its last spins until it passed Wanda and stopped to the girl beside her, Natasha. Wanda could feel her heart drop as the two girls looked at each other with mischievous smiles. “Looks like you have to kiss me Y/n - don’t worry, I don’t bite.”

Wanda closed her eyes as she saw the pair leaning in, praying it would be over quickly. And when she opened them back up, she couldn’t help but wish that the bottle landed on her.

“Yeah - I mean it was in the script. I didn’t - I thought you wanted me to commit to it.” Y/n walked back to Wanda scared that she accidentally hurt her friend. “Was it fake for you?” Y/n stood still for a moment, afraid to answer. Wanda walked forward, closing the distance between them. “Tell me - did that kiss mean anything to you.”

“Wanda - I - I’m sorry. I really thought you wanted me to-”

“-What I want is to know if you like me or not. So tell me,” Wanda declared. The beating in her heart could not stop as she waited for Y/n’s answer. “I thought you would do just a kiss on my cheek or would have said that you kissed me out loud. But you kissed me and I can’t go back now.”

Tears formed in Wanda’s eyes as Y/n wracked in her brain for words to say. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long now - so please tell me that was real.” The tears fell to her cheeks as her heart beat in anticipation.

“Please say something,” Wanda begged.

“Please don’t cry,” Y/n whispered, her heart breaking at the sight of Wanda crying in front of her. “Why shouldn’t I?” Wanda wiped some tears with the back of her hand, feeling stupid for even confessing.

“‘Cause I never knew you felt the same.” Y/n pulled Wanda close and kissed her deeply, wishing to show that this was the kiss that Wanda deserved, not from some stupid play, but from the fact that Y/n truly loved Wanda.

Wanda steadied herself, placing her hands against Y/n’s chest as she fiercely kissed back. The more Wanda pushed to steady herself, the more Y/n leaned in, begging for more. Their gasps and labored breaths were in sync as the kiss went from passionate to needy.

With each kiss, Y/n poured her heart, wishing that she could stop tasting her tears. Pulling back slightly, Y/n heaved out, “Please stop crying.” Y/n used one hand to wipe away the tears. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Wanda chuckled as she looked at Y/n with such adoration. “I think you owe it to me to redo the scene.”

“Want me to kiss you better?” Wanda pondered for a second, “Something like that plus you’re acting skills could use some practice.”

Y/n gasped, a feigned hurt expression on her face. “I think I was amazing. Might have to audition for lead love interest.”

“Guess we gotta practice our kiss scenes.”

“Way ahead of you Maixmoff.”

Taglist: @halobaby  @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog

@sighsam @olsensnpm @tquick99 @feolok @emilyprentisslittlewhore @mvddison99 @iamapotato @yuhloversxx @mjaudrey @upsidedowndanvers @somewhatgreatexpectations @wandavixen @magicallymaximoff @username23345 @coollemonsaresour @littlewinchester15 @aimezvousbrahms @afuckingshituniverse @am-just-a-cosmic-joke-to-me 

@ohmygooddamnbisexualmood @diaryoflife @s7uts @newyork1432 @the-anxious-stargazer @hello-mtf @marvelousbelladonna @ima-gi–na-tion @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @the-camilucha 

@itsnottilly @171611 @kaitlynroseb @daisybri7 @drpepperobsessed @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @marvelousbelladonna @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @chasethemoon @naixia00 @lostandsearching @stupidsapphicsstuff @haechanana @the-camilucha @severepeanutartisanhands @owloftheshadows @somewhatgreatexpectations @ywuen @mixed-fandom-mess @loomontoia @ilovemarvelwomen @coxmicbabygirl  @cyanide-mustard @mrs-avenger3000 @prentisshoe @andrea-stark @simpforwandanat @abimess @randomshyperson @yourtaletotell @magically-queer-stuff 

@imapotatao @iliketozoneout @maximoffbrossupremacy​@olsensnpm​ @psychadelichues​ @whitelotus00 @taliiiaasteria @tynix @autorasexy @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @hiiraya

[pascaloverx]

DANDELIONS

Summary: You are the new guest of the Bridgertons. Your mother, an old friend of Lady Violet Bridgerton, has requested that you spend a season at the Bridgerton house in hopes that you will change your perspective on true love and marriage. You are convinced that love is a fictional construct and that a marriage without love will be your downfall; but some time with the Bridgerton siblings might change your mind.

Author's Note: The characters belong to the Bridgerton universe and Julia Quinn. However, the story will have some changes from what happens in the Bridgerton series (2020-). Dear readers, this story may contain strong language and steamy romance scenes. It may even feature a love triangle. Be warned and enjoy the reading.

ONE THREE

TWO

The next few days at the Bridgerton house are chaotic yet incredibly fun. Between walks and conversations with Eloise, helping Francesca with embroidery during silent but very focused hours, and spending time reading with Colin, who introduced you to his favorite books and recommended others, you are quite busy. Every day you have tea with Lady Violet Bridgerton, who is enthusiastic about the idea of finding a suitor for you during the ball season. You try to share her enthusiasm, but the truth is that spending time with her family seems more adventurous than getting married. Today, for instance, you are taking Hyacinth and Gregory to pick some apples in the garden. In reality, Gregory wants to practice archery, and you think it would be a good exercise for the younger ones. Regarding the two older brothers, you have been avoiding them. It's not an easy task, but with Lydia's help, you have managed to escape any moments alone with them. You feel embarrassed for pretending to be hurt in front of one and for covering for the other. Daphne is the only one you have yet to meet, but according to the Bridgerton family, you will soon. Recently, Eloise introduced you to a close friend named Penelope. You found her to be very perceptive and kind, which is good since she seems to be part of the family, and you want to make a good impression.

"Lady Violet Bridgerton, I assure you that the three of us will be very careful while picking apples. When I was Hyacinth's age, it was my favorite pastime," you say as you finish adjusting your shoe. Lady Bridgerton still looks a bit concerned as she watches Hyacinth and Gregory run off with their bows and arrows. You smile, imagining how it will be to spend time with them.

"Believe me, dear, you will need someone to help you with those two," Lady Violet says, somewhat nervously. You look at her, feeling uncertain, and then you hear someone approaching the room where you are.

"I believe I can be of use as the older brother at this moment. I was just finishing up some financial matters, and it seems that fresh air will do us all some good," Viscount Anthony Bridgerton says, surprising you and Lady Violet. You know that Lydia will be joining you, but staying with him and the younger siblings seems like a risk.

"That won't be necessary, Viscount. There's no need to disrupt your busy schedule when I am more than capable of handling this task with my companion," you respond instantly, as if the answer were at the tip of your tongue. Anthony gives you a mischievous smile, indicating that he plans to accompany you anyway, which makes you feel a bit uneasy. Lady Violet, however, seems more relieved.

"Miss Y/L/N, forgive my frankness, but it seems that you do not desire my company. If that is the case, I would like to clear up any misunderstanding by reaffirming that I will be accompanying you and my siblings on this apple-picking outing," Viscount Bridgerton says assertively, taking a step closer to you. You stare at him, almost forgetting that there are others around you.

"Viscount, I can assure you that such an impression is a misunderstanding. I would never have any problem with your company. I simply would not want to disrupt the busy life of a Viscount, especially as a guest in his house." A lie on your part, as you really want to avoid spending time with Anthony. The Viscount Bridgerton is one of the most sought-after men in society. One wrong rumor about the two of you, and your mother would be demanding a wedding at Queen Charlotte's doorstep in a matter of minutes.

"Y/N, I can assure you that my son, busy as he may be, always finds time to spend with his siblings. You will essentially be helping him look after the younger ones. And certainly, my son will be honored by your company," Lady Violet says, lightly tapping her eldest son's arm as if expecting him to support her statement. Anthony nods slightly, as if in agreement.

"In that case, please join us, Viscount. Goodbye for now, Lady Bridgerton," you say, looking kindly at Violet and heading towards the exit of the house. Gregory and Hyacinth follow you while Anthony says something to his mother and then approaches you. Your companion, Mrs. Lydia, comes behind you silently. She seems to want to give you or Anthony space to talk. The two teenagers seem to be having fun walking among the trees.

"Miss Y/L/N, how long exactly do you intend to avoid me?" Viscount Bridgerton speaks near you, pretending to pay attention to something else so that Lydia doesn't suspect he's trying to talk to you.

"You don't need to pretend to be looking for bees among the flowers, Viscount Bridgerton. Lydia won't suspect you. As for your question, I think it's fair to say that given the nature of our last encounter, some distance seems plausible." You try to answer his question without really answering it. He smiles slightly, but it's a nervous smile. He watches the siblings ahead of us, while Lydia takes the opportunity to chat with the young Bridgertons.

"I wasn't pretending. A bee around here is too dangerous. But getting back to our main topic, I would like to apologize for the first impression I gave you," he says as if it were an obligation for him to say so, without truly wanting to apologize. You look at him, finding his pretense amusing.

"Apologies accepted, Viscount. Was that why you wanted to come with us? To apologize for your mistake?" You ask as you and Anthony walk side by side. Hyacinth and Gregory shout, calling for their brother and you as they find an apple tree.

"Not only to apologize for my mistake," Viscount Bridgerton clears his throat loudly, "but also to give you the chance to apologize to me." As soon as Anthony says this, you shoot an arrow accurately at one of the apples at the top of the apple tree that Gregory and Hyacinth are looking at. The two are pleasantly surprised and shout that your aim is great. However, Viscount Bridgerton seems to have become nervous, perhaps even a little irritated.

"Apologize to the Viscount for what reason?" You ask as you both stop walking and face each other. He seems indignant for some reason.

"For not behaving as a lady of your stature should. Surely you know you should have forced me to marry the young lady because of what happened. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to get married, and certainly not to you. I just think that in your place, I would be more concerned about this issue," Anthony says presumptuously, leaving you offended. You look him up and down and smile. He seems not to understand.

"Viscount, I must say that you seem to have misunderstood what happened. You intruded into a room designated for me, a lady. Yet somehow, you think I owe you something. Very well. I give you a warning: if a situation like this happens again, I will be your wife faster than you can pronounce Bridgerton." Your threatening tone seems to intrigue the Viscount.

"Is that a threat, Miss?" Viscount Anthony Bridgerton speaks as if surprised by the way you speak to him.

"The trick to hitting a target like that is to always have concentration and patience. A bit of determination is also appropriate." As you approach Gregory, who can't take his eyes off the arrow, you notice Anthony looking at you with a hint of mockery.

"I believe the young lady is mistaken. Hitting the target is about strength and often talent." You hear this and feel as if he is belittling your technique. So, you raise your bow and arrow in his direction, holding it out to the Viscount in front of you.

"Try to hit the target with your method then, Viscount. Let's see which one of us knows more about what we're talking about." You say, challenging him. He doesn’t hesitate to try to hit an apple almost in the same place you did. He is so sure he will surpass you that it's almost comical when his arrow hits an apple below yours. Gregory and Hyacinth are shocked while he shows no expression.

"Dear brother, I think Miss Y/L/N's method seems to be more effective," Hyacinth says with a humorous tone. Anthony looks annoyed.

"I want to try hitting the target using your tactic, brother," Gregory says as he grabs his own bow and arrow. Hyacinth laughs at him while he struggles to place the arrow on the bow.

"I actually prefer using Miss Y/L/N's tactic," Hyacinth says, showing you how quickly she can place the arrow on the bow. You guide her to focus on the target and tell her to think of something that makes her angry to make her more determined. You can hear Anthony assisting Gregory. Anthony and you exchange glances while helping the younger ones practice archery. Later, you all gather some apples together.

[theemporium]

im not sure if we’re allowed to combine prompts, so if we’re not, then feel free to choose!

can i request a violet fluff 💜 with nicojack??

"Come back to bed."

"Please, never apologise for wanting to be loved."

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

49. “Come back to bed.”

.

It was late.

The game ended hours ago, a brutal loss to the Devils that stung for everyone—the players, the coaches, the fans. It was a game of stupid mistakes and missed opportunities and it laid heavy on everyone’s shoulders as the seats at the Prudential Center emptied after the final buzzer sounded through the arena. 

It was bad, but it wasn’t season-breaking. It was still in the early months of the season, they had time to recover from the loss and move up. And all things considered with how the last season went, things were looking bright for the Devils chances to clinch a playoff spot and have a solid foot through the door for the Stanley Cup.

But that didn’t stop Jack’s brain from spiralling the second he stepped off the ice after the heartbreaking loss. 

Everyone could see the way he closed off and it wasn’t unusual. They were competitive athletes, it was in their DNA to thrive and push and aim for the win. It was disappointing when they didn’t get it. It was normal for them to just have moments to themselves to come to terms with the game before leaving it in the past and moving on.

But Jack couldn’t seem to let go. 

It was borderline obsessive the way he was watching tapes from a game he played hours ago, watching the same clips over and over and over again like he could somehow rewrite the outcome. Even getting him to eat dinner was a struggle, the boy uninterested and untempted by the plate lying beside him. 

You thought maybe he needed to sleep it off, that maybe he would talk to you or Nico in the morning. 

Instead, you woke up at three in the morning to find his side of the bed empty and Nico just as confused as he tried to blink away the sleep from his eyes. 

“Where’s Jack?” Nico grumbled, biting back a yawn as he reached towards the empty spot in bed, the sheets now cold.

“I can take a guess,” you murmured, throwing your legs over the side of the bed and wincing slightly at the cool floorboards beneath your feet before you walked out towards the living room. 

It was unsurprising to find Jack sat on the couch, tablet in hand and eyes glued to the screen. His shoulders were tense, his posture was horrible and his lips looked red and raw from biting down on them so much. 

“Babe,” you called out in a soft voice, watching Jack jump out of his skin as he turned to find both of you standing in the doorway. 

“Oh, hey,” he cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing a little when he realised he had been caught. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Jack,” you scolded in a soft voice.

“Schat, this isn’t healthy,” Nico frowned as he took in the scene in front of him, brows furrowed and concern written across his face. “I know you’re upset about the game—”

“I lost us that game,” Jack whispered, his voice breaking. “Look at all these mistakes! You kept setting me up and I kept fumbling and—”

“Hey,” Nico shook his head, rounding the couch until he was kneeling in front of Jack. He took the younger boy’s face in his hands, his thumbs soothing over his cheeks. “Everyone makes mistakes. It’s not one person’s fault. We are a team. We win together, we fail together. You know that.”

Jack swallowed harshly. “I know but—”

“No,” he frowned. “Together, Jack. You can’t keep kicking yourself about this. Not like this, okay?” 

He nodded softly. “Okay.” 

“Come back to bed,” Nico murmured as he stood up, pulling the boy up with him as they shuffled towards where you were standing.

“I’m a part of that together too, by the way,” you commented as Jack approached you, sinking into your embrace as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug.

“Of course, babe,” he rasped, letting out a sigh as he leaned his head on your shoulder. “M’taking middle spot, by the way.”

You snorted. “Fine. Just this once.”

.

[lunamonroeao3]

“Vi stands on shaky legs, using the wall to support her. She tries to swallow. Her throat tastes like blood.

The broken chain still hangs from their wrists.

“What in gods’ name were you thinking?” She holds up her broken chain for emphasis, the longer end dragging along the ground as she steps closer to Vi. “Were you even thinking?” A step. “Do you have any idea what I would’ve done– ugh! Of course you weren’t thinking!” Another step. “Because you’re a beautiful reckless fool. I swear to every god there is if you ever do something like that again–” She doesn’t finish the sentence. Her hands fist the material of Vi’s shredded tunic, her breathing heavy and labored. Her eyes are glassy as they rake over Vi’s face, tracing the path of scars from brow down to her neck, covered in mottled shades of violet. And then her lips.

Caitlyn squeezes her eyes shut when Vi lifts her hands to Caitlyn’s forearms. And when she opens them again they seem clearer, darker. Like she’s made her mind up about something. But tears still fall, making a trail down her face, joining the blood and dirt that paints her skin.

Vi has the thought to wipe them away, to speak, to do anything to comfort the woman in front of her. But every thought, every good intention is eclipsed by the sudden warmth of Caitlyn’s lips crashing into her own.”

So I don’t have a new chapter yet BUT, I do have art from chapter 13 😭💕 I commissioned the wonderful, amazing, talented @peachesartplace and she turned this scene into reality.

[littlest-w01f]

Cakes

Eris Vanserra x his (and Rhea's) daughter

For @erisweekofficial

Eris Week 2024 Masterlist

Day 2: Childhood/Legacy

Summary: Eris takes a step towards not being like his father while putting firm boundaries with his daughter.

Cw: Fluff, a lil angst

"Dalia Cersei Vanserra." Eris crossed his arms over his chest, watching his daughter sitting in the middle of the kitchen, chocolate cakes on the floor, his daughter's chubby cheeks and lips covered in the desert. "Why are you up at this hour?"

The little girl gasps and looks up at him, her violet eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, "Da!" Dalia giggles, her small hands trying to wipe off some of the chocolate from her face but only smearing it further. "Da! Hi Da!" She says again, looking at her father with bright eyes full of excitement.

He chuckles softly, reaching down to scoop her up into his strong arms, feeling her tiny body squirming against him as he holds her close. "What are you doing awake, sweetheart? It's the middle of the night."

Her eyes light up even more at the sound of his voice, she starts babbling something about cakes and rolls and milk while pointing towards the open door leading out to the kitchen.

Dalia was always full of energy, especially when there was food involved, anything sweet had the girl on a roll. Dalia's tiny hands flew up to her mouth as she tried to stifle a giggle, her body shaking with suppressed laughter. The sight of her father's stern look, only made the situation more comical in her innocent mind. She couldn't help but let out a snort.

Eris raised an eyebrow, his expression unchanging despite the adorable scene before him. He held Dalia closer as he walked, his bare feet thudding against the tile floor. "Did you hear me, young lady?" he asked firmly, trying to maintain his authoritative tone amidst the chaos of his daughter's antics, refusing to smile and let her get away with being way past her sleep time and sending herself into a sugar rush.

He tried to recall what his mate had said, that if he wouldn't even try to discipline their daughter he might end up at the other extreme opposite to his father, he sighed softly, looking at the precious girl he had made with his lovely Rheana, the said girl was happily licking her fingers to clean the chocolate. He would explain to her how what she did was wrong, make sure she understood it, it should be easy enough, instead of whatever his father would've done, which was strike at him in different ways. Eris' eyes darkened at the thought of any harm like that coming to the precious bundle in his arms.

He felt the darkness shifting in the room, his love was watching, there for him if he needed help, but Eris refused to call upon her, determined to handle this situation himself. he set his girl down in her bed in her cosy room.

Eris sat down in front of Dalia, his large frame towering over her yet maintaining eye contact, ensuring he had her full attention. He took one of her small, sticky hands in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. His voice softened, yet remained firm, "Little one, what you're doing is called sneaking out of your bed in the middle of the night, remember? We decided it wasn't a good thing, right?"

Dalia nodded, her eyes still wide but filled with curiosity rather than fear. She tilted her head slightly, her braided red hair swaying gently behind her. "But… I just wanted a treat, dada."

Eris smiled warmly at her honesty, then explained, "It's not about wanting a treat, sweetheart. It's about following rules. You see, your Mama and I work hard to keep you safe and healthy."

His words were calm, as he looked at her, he couldn't understand how his father had done what he did while looking into the eyes on his daughter, if he too had looked up this innocently at his father for answers and was met with torture instead, "And part of keeping you safe means making sure you're sleeping soundly in your bed."

He stroked her chocolate-covered hands. "This," he emphasized, pointing at the sweet desert remains, "Is delicious, yes? But we need to be careful when we eat things like these because they give us energy, and too much energy all at once could make our bodies sick."

As he spoke, he waved his hand, his magic cleaning his daughter fully. "So, while having a taste is okay sometimes, we shouldn’t fill ourselves up so late at night. That’s why bedtime snacks aren’t allowed, okay?"

Dalia's eyes squinted a little in confusion, "But you and Mama say I can get anything I want in life if I try hard enough... And I really wanted some chocolate cake."

Eris let out a hearty laugh at his daughter's innocent bewilderment, "Well, my love, you still have a sleep time, don't you? If you don't sleep at night, you will be tired in the morning and miss the sparrows." He then only noticed the door of her room, scorch marks on the handle, she had used her budding power to open the door to her room, like mother like daughter for sure.

Dalia gasped at the thought of missing her sparrows, setting herself back in bed and closing her eyes, mumbling something about the birdies. After a moment she opened a single eye to see Eris still standing there, then closed them again, pretending to be asleep.

His heart melted at the sight of his little girl faking sleep, another trick she'd learned from her mother. He gave her a tender kiss on the forehead, murmuring, "Goodnight, princess."

"I'm sorry, Da." Dalia called out as Eris stood at the door to her room, "I'll be good and rest... Can we play together in the morning with the sparrows?"

Eris turned around, a warm smile spreading across his face as he gazed lovingly at his daughter. "Of course we can, sweetheart. In fact, after breakfast, we'll go outside and build a special feeder just for those feathered friends of yours. But first, you must promise to stay in bed until the sun rises. No sneaking out for midnight treats, deal?"

Dalia's eyelids fluttered open, her violet eyes sparkling with excitement at the prospect of spending time with her father. "Deal, Da! I promise!"

With that, Eris quietly exited the room, leaving a contented and sleepy little girl to drift off into slumber, dreaming of sparrow-filled mornings ahead.

With one last lingering glance at his babe, he left the room quietly, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. As he walked back to his bedroom, he found his Rheana waiting for him. "Everything alright?" She asked, concern etched on her beautiful features.

He smiled reassuringly at his mate, pulling her close and planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "Everything's fine, my love. Our little troublemaker is fast asleep now, dreaming of birds and chocolate cake."

Rheana let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing against his touch. "I wasn't worried for a moment. You handled that beautifully."

Eris tensed slightly as he remembered his childhood, memories of his abusive upbringing threatening to resurface. However, he quickly pushed them aside, focusing instead on the warmth and comfort of his mate's embrace. "Yes, well… I refuse to repeat history. Our children will know nothing but love and understanding under our roof."

Eris snuggled into Rheana's arms, his head resting under her chin, arms wrapped around her muscular form, he couldn't help his memories as they threatened to drown him.

"Hey..." Rheana whispered softly, feeling his distress, "Would you like to talk about it?" She asked, wrapping her arms around him, knowing his needed to be held without even asking.

"No," He finally answered, "Let's leave it where it belongs, in the past. There's no point dwelling on the mistakes of our fathers."

But still, as he said, he couldn't help but think of his own childhood, how he enjoyed nature, the red falling leaves, jumping on them to see how hard they would crunch, but his father had not liked it, that he was having fun. The first time Beron had raised his hand on him, he had beaten him bloody for having fun with his brothers on the autumn leaves

Memories flooded Eris' mind, each one a painful reminder of the cruelty he endured growing up. He recalled the countless times his father's fists had connected with his skin, whips, knives, the blood dripping down his face, the searing pain that never seemed to subside. Even now, centuries later, the scars ran deep, both physical and emotional.

As he lay there, lost in the darkness of his past, Rheana's soothing presence brought him back to the present. Her gentle strokes along his back and the comforting weight of her body against his own served as a balm to his troubled soul.

"I remember when you first told me about your childhood," Rheana murmured, her breath warm against his ear. "It broke my heart to know you suffered through such torment. But you're strong, Eris."

"You're worth so much, my love." Rheana kissed his cheek and neck, "My precious fire. Beron is dead. Our children have an advantage of never knowing him. Yes, we'll make mistakes, it's inevitable to, but what's most important is for her to have her safe place with us, the rest we'll figure out as we go."

Her words, laced with love and affection, worked their magic, slowly drawing him out of the depths of despair. The sensation of her lips against his skin sent a tingling sensation coursing through his veins, reminding him of the warmth and safety he found in her arms. "I love you, Rhea."

Slowly, the shadows of his past receded, replaced by the bright glow of his future with Rheana. He knew he could overcome any hardship as long as he had her by his side.

"I love you too," Rheana smiled softly, cupping his cheeks, planting kisses all over his face, "For anything you might need from me. Forever."

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate @fieldofdaisiies @st4r-girl-official}

{Flames and Darkness Taglist - @anuttellaa @tuggboatfishin @inloveallthetime}

[consoledacup]

There is a hell of a lot to say about mirrors. Aside from Colin and Penelope's perfect love story, I love how their romance is completely intertwined with identity.

Mirrors are everywhere this season. Penelope's staring at herself with Genevieve behind her, outwardly prioritizing her career over love. And her transformation is only skin deep and smartly subverted at the ball.

Varley is encouraging Penelope's new look, saying, "the looking glass does not lie." Such a sweet thing to say! But she says it during the Whistledown voice over. So the looking glass doesn't lie, but Penelope sure does. And at the end of the episode, after that captivating gossip scene at the Osterley Ball, Penelope simply reflects what the rest of the ton is saying in Whistledown.

Colin's brief reflection in the mirror behind Penelope at Stowell House highlights how he is never far from her thoughts.

Love the little moment Colin has with Violet where she comes to see him in the study, and he leans into the light when she brings up friendship and love, and you see his reflection behind her. The mirror play in the Fuller Library was so great. The thin persona Colin is projecting to the toxic lord squad is so not reflective of who is actually in his heart. And I really love Penelope's resigned little vanity mirror shot, readying herself for Debling's proposal and convincing herself she has no need for love.

The mirror intimacy scene is the sexiest, rawest, most revealing, most tender love scene I've ever seen. I personally think that the vulnerability of the mirror scene alone makes this season the most intimate it's ever been. I love that it starts with the mirror. I love that the mirror was all over in promos and was the third character in the teaser trailer. I love that the song that plays is "p.o.v."

And then we have the parallel of Genevieve behind Penelope in front of the mirror once more, this time with Penelope surrendering her career for love.

What makes the mirror intimacy scene so well-written and angsty is Colin believing that they were completely baring themselves to one another in that moment, mind, body, and soul. And while Penelope had found no other moment with him more special, she was still holding back parts of herself. And that is why it is so heartbreaking when Colin tells her the reason they'll still marry is because they were intimate. He's struggling to get the words out, as he reflects on their time together. He feels betrayed. He was honest with her inside and out, and she wasn't. And once again, Genevieve is an incredible support when she reminds Penelope that true love comes from loving each other, and themselves, fully.

When we see Colin battling with himself after admitting defeat to Penelope's team, there is a brief shot of him in the mirror as he openly lusts after his wife, frozen in conflict. And Penelope's reflection is shown as she's made the firm decision to unmask Whistledown, leading to the public reveal of her identity.

These characters are not just stepping into the light this season, but they're also forced to confront their own reflections. And as they examine all aspects of themselves, even the parts they used to hide from, they can't help but fall that much more deeply in love with each other. It really is such a beautiful message!

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts II

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Aemond and Valaena make time for one another before the petition for Driftmark.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Secret Relationship, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Oral Sex, P in V,

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 4232

A.N - Just and excuse for smut!! ;-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Valaena sat on the edge of her bed, the soft glow of candlelight flickering across the chamber as she combed her long, dark hair.

The rhythmic strokes of the comb were soothing, the quiet of the room broken only by the gentle creak of shifting wood behind her.

"You know the  maids that can help you with that," came Aemond’s familiar voice, low and teasing.

A smile played on Valaena's lips, but she didn’t turn around. "I know," she replied, her tone light, "-but you know that I prefer to attend to my own hair."

Aemond stepped closer, his hand extended toward her. "Come," he said softly, his violet eye gleaming in the dim light. "We shall take the secret passageways to my chambers."

Valaena set the comb aside and placed her hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

With a nod, she rose to her feet, and Aemond led her through the darkened passageways, hidden behind the walls of the Red Keep.

The stone corridors were narrow and dim, the silence between them punctuated only by the soft echo of their footsteps.

They paused at an alcove when two guards passed by, their conversation muffled.

Aemond held her hand tightly, and once the guards moved on, they continued, navigating the shadowy passages until they reached a hidden partition.

Aemond pushed against the wall, and a door swung open, revealing his private chambers.

He gestured for Valaena to enter first, and she stepped inside, the scent of parchment and leather filling her senses.

The room was distinctly his—dark wood, the soft flicker of firelight, and bookshelves filled with ancient tomes lined the walls. A weapons cabinet stood proudly in one corner, gleaming steel on display.

Valaena ran a finger over the smooth surface of a large desk, her gaze drifting to the tapestry above Aemond’s bed—a scene depicting Harrenhal, the ruined castle looming ominously in the woven fabric. A soft laugh escaped her lips.

Aemond, standing behind her, asked, “What’s funny?”

Valaena shook her head, her smile widening. “Nothing-just that this space is so you.” She walked over to a chair, where a discarded cloak was draped.

Lifting it, she pressed the material to her nose, inhaling his scent—the comforting mix of leather, smoke, and something uniquely him. She lowered the cloak, her gaze softening. "Everything in this room is you."

Aemond unbuckled his belt and placed it and the dagger on the desk. His eye never left hers as he moved toward her, taking the cloak from her hand and tossing it onto the back of a chair.

Valaena, a playful glint in her eyes, began backing away, a smile tugging at her lips.

Aemond followed, his movements slow and deliberate, his voice low as he said, "I've imagined this moment, hundreds of times, having you here, in my chambers."

Valaena's back met the cool stone wall behind her, and she looked up at him, her breath quickening. "And what did you imagine you would do with me in your chambers?"

Aemond came to a stop just in front of her, his tall frame blocking out the light behind him as he braced his hands on the wall, caging her in.

His lips curved into a sly smile as he leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin. "Would you like me to show you?" he murmured.

Valaena bit her lip, her heart pounding in her chest as she nodded.

Aemond didn’t hesitate. His lips found hers in a fierce, hungry kiss, his hands sliding down from the wall to her waist. Valaena melted into him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as the kiss deepened.

With a soft growl, Aemond moved her away from the wall and began pulling at the ties of her nightgown.

“Don’t rip it-” urged Valaena as she took a step back and pulled open the cotton material and let it fall to the floor.

Aemond smirked as he gazed her naked body before he eagerly pulled off his own clothes, leaving them both bare.

Aemond circled Valaena slowly, his steps measured and deliberate, his eye tracing every curve of her body like a predator hungrily stalking its prey.

There was an intensity in the way he moved, his gaze devouring her from every angle as if he were committing every inch of her to memory.

With a commanding presence, he stepped back from Valaena, his voice low and authoritative as he spoke.

"Kneel" he ordered, his words cutting through the thick air of the room.

Without hesitation, Valaena obeyed. She sank gracefully to her knees, her eyes never leaving Aemond's as she positioned herself in front of him, her posture submissive yet confident, entirely at his mercy.

Slowly, Aemond reached down and caressed Valaena’s cheek, his touch gentle and reverent despite the raw desire simmering beneath the surface.

His thumb brushed over her soft skin, tracing the line of her jaw before he brought it to her plump lower lip, pressing against it with a possessive tenderness.

“Open your mouth,” he murmured, his tone commanding yet intimate, a whisper meant only for her.

Valaena, always eager to please him, parted her lips without hesitation, her breath warm against his thumb as she obeyed his command.

Aemond smirked and then spat into her mouth.

“Swallow” he ordered.

Valaena closed her mouth and smiled as she swallowed.

“Sȳz riña” muttered Aemond (Good girl).

“Ivestragī nyke kostilus ao ñuha zaldrīzes” whispered Valaena (Let me please you my dragon).

“Skorkydoso?” asked Aemond curiously (How?)

Valaena smiled and rose higher on her knees she placed her hands on Aemond, slowly moving them up his lean body, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles with delicate but purposeful intent.

She felt the tremble in his body as her nails scraped lightly across his skin, and he groaned low in his throat, the sound primal, raw with desire.

Her touch held him captive, and as her hands continued their slow, torturous path, she whispered to him, her voice soft but commanding.

“Take off your eyepatch, I wish to gaze upon your beauty in its entirety”

Aemond hesitated for only a moment, his lips parting in a quiet whimper, the sound so rare for him, so vulnerable.

She knew what her words, her praise, did to him—how they disarmed him in ways no one else could.

His heart raced in his chest, and the possessiveness in him faltered for just a second, replaced by something deeper, more intimate.

Without a word, Aemond reached up and pulled the eyepatch from his face, the black leather slipping from his fingers to fall carelessly to the floor.

He stood before her, exposed in a way few had ever seen him, the sapphire a mark of his strength, his pain, and his triumph.

Valaena gazed up at him, a soft smile curving her lips as her eyes traced over his face.

The sapphire, so stark and striking, only added to the beauty that was uniquely his.

“Ñuha gevie zaldrīzes”  whispered Valaena, her voice laced with adoration (My beautiful dragon).

Aemond’s breath hitched at her words, his body responding to the warmth of her gaze and the tenderness in her voice. She saw all of him—the scars, the vulnerabilities—and still, she called him beautiful.

It was a power she wielded over him that no one else could ever claim.

Valaena leaned forward and pressed a series of tender kisses to his bare stomach, her lips brushing against his pale skin.

Aemond closed his eye and let out a low groan as he felt her teeth grazing against him.

Each kiss sent a ripple of pleasure through Aemond, his body responding to her affection with a barely contained hunger.

Aemond’s hand instinctively moved to her hair, his fingers weaving through the dark strands as he tilted his head back, his chest rising and falling with laboured breaths.

His voice, deep and rough with need, cut through the silence like a blade.

“Kostilus” he rasped, his voice a low growl, urging her on (Please).

As Valaena continued her trail of kisses, Aemond’s grip on her hair tightened, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His eye was half-lidded, his focus entirely on the woman kneeling before him.

She grinned as she looked up at Aemond before taking one of his stones into her mouth, her tongue teasing the soft delicate flesh.

“FUCK” moaned Aemond.

“Does ñuha dārys like that?” asked Valaena (My King).

“Oh. Gods. Yes” whimpered Aemond.

“What was that?” asked Valaena as she moved to the other and caressed it with her tongue.

“Kostilus ñuha jorrāelagon” begged Aemond (Please my love).

“Ao līs umbagon ñuha zaldrīzes” replied Valaena (You must wait, my dragon).

Aemond stared down Valaena, his mouth hanging open as her warm, wet mouth wrapped around the head of his cock.

Her tongue gently moving around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off that drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

“Fuck, Valaena” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

Valaena ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him. Her hand moving over the hard length of him.

“Your taking me so well. Such a good girl-” moaned Aemond as Valaena took his cock in her mouth.

Valaena slid her other hand around Aemond’s body and grasped the flesh of his arse, digging her nails into his skin.

“That’s it-FUCK-yes-don’t stop” groaned Aemond, his hips thrusting faster.

Valaena responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing as much of his cock as she could, her head moving back and forth.

“Shit-Valaena I’m going to spill. Oh, fuck, I’m going to-” shouted Aemond his head tipped back as he exploded.

Valaena took every last drop, swallowing his warm seed and licking him clean. When Aemond recovered, he saw her self-satisfied smile.

Aemond as he watched his softened cock slip from Valaena’s mouth and leave a trail of seed dribbling down her chin.

“Such a messy Prince-” muttered Valaena as she put a finger to her chin and wiped away the seed only to put the finger into her mouth.

“Fuck” muttered Aemond, his cock twitching.

“What is it you desire now my love?” asked Valaena.

Aemond offered her his hand and pulled her from the floor, he shuddered when the warmth of her body pressed against his, her hand released his and trailed up his arm, her nails scraping against his skin.

“I want-” whispered Aemond as Valaena coiled her fingers in his long hair and gently tugged at the silver strands.

“-What do you want?”

“I want you to ride my face until I’m ready again” gasped Aemond

“Are you sure” asked Valaena.

“Sit on my fucking face” ordered Aemond as he moved away from her and laid on the bed.

Valaena climbed onto the bed and  hovered above Aemond’s face; her knees splayed on either side of his head.

“Such a pretty cunny-" breathed Aemond as he ran the flat of his tongue along Valaena’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Valaena her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it ñuha dōna. Let me hear you” (My sweet).

“YES. It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Valaena.

“FUCK” growled Aemond.

“Ooooh A-Aemond” shrieked Valaena.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Valaena, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Valaena "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh" whimpered Valaena; her chest heaving as she began to gently roll her hips against him.

“That’s it baby, ride my fucking face” groaned Aemond as he pulled Valaena closer.

“N-No A-Aemond you’ll suffocate” exclaimed Valaena.

“When I said sit on my fucking face, I didn’t mean hover. I want your entire cunt on my face. Now do as you are told-” ordered Aemond as he wrapped his hands around her thighs and pulled her further onto his face, his nose rubbing on her pearl.

Valaena was now giving off a slew of whispered swear words, moans, and pleas as she moved her hips.

“Yes-yes, don’t stop” moaned Valaena.

 Aemond then rolled her onto the bed, her back colliding with the soft mattress with a dull thud.

“Ohhh Aemond” whined Valaena at the sudden movement.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me baby,” moaned Aemond, his face pressed between her shaking thighs, his fingers curling inside her.

Finally, he felt Valaena’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Valaena’s back arched taut as a bow and she screamed her release.

“Hmm” muttered Aemond as he pressed a series of kisses to her inner thighs, his teeth nipping at her skin.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Valaena.

Aemond rose to his knees, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth savouring her delicious taste.

Aemond moved up Valaena’s body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the stiffened peak.

“Oh-yes“ gasped Valaena, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“Issa jorrāelagon-Issa glaeson-ñuhon” growled Aemond as he seized his wife’s lips in a ferocious kiss, his hard cock throbbing against her thigh (My love-my life-mine).

Aemond wrapped a hand around his cock and slowly ran it over Valaena’s wet entrance, she began squirming impatiently against him as he continued to tease her.

“P-Please, I want you” exclaimed Valaena desperately.

“Hmm” rasped Aemond as he slid inside her with a singular thrust. His hips coming to a stop against hers.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of her squeezing his cock.

"Faster, Aemond" begged Valaena.

"Patience, ñuha dōna" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up her neck (My sweet).

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Valaena.

Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders. Her fingernails raking down his back.

“Mark me harder-“ growled Aemond.

Valaena dug her nails into his skin and clawed at his back deep enough to draw blood.

The fire between them was unmistakable, an unrestrained passion that filled the room with heat and tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

 “Gods-" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly, revelling in the pain.

"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me”.

Aemond groaned loudly, knew exactly what Valaena was doing, but he couldn’t help himself. She wanted faster, he was going much faster now.

His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from her luscious lips. Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging loudly against the stone wall.

Aemond lifted Valaena’s legs onto his shoulders, and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet cunny.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Valaena.

“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to spill his seed. Not yet.

Not even waiting for her orgasm to fully subside, Aemond moved Valaena’s legs off his shoulders and quickly manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his large hands kneading the soft pale flesh, before he sunk his teeth into her.

“AEMOND” squealed Valaena.

“Hmmm”

“P-Please Aemond” whispered Valaena, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond stuck his finger in his mouth before he ran it over her puckered hole.

“Is this alight?” breathed Aemond.

“Y-Yes. Put it inside me. I can take it” whimpered Valaena.

“Tell me-Tell me if it’s too much” replied Aemond as he slowly pressed his finger inside her.

“Ooh Aemond, yes. Please. More” babbled Valaena as he moved his finger in and out before adding a second.

“Your doing so well-my darling” moaned Aemond as he moved his fingers inside her, his other hand slowly stroking his cock.

“I want you-please Aemond”

Aemond moved into position and sheathed himself inside Valaena once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

“FUCK-” groaned Aemond,

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Valaena, his fingers in her arse and his cock deep in her cunt was so good.

Aemond began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts, his fingers moving in rhythm with his cock.

“Harder-more-please ñuha raqiarzy” wailed Valaena (My beloved).

“Issa vaogenka hāedar” growled Aemond, his fingers moving faster (My dirty girl).

“Aemond-”

“That’s it-take it-take all of me” muttered Aemond as he removed his fingers, and grabbed hold of Valaena’s hips and increased the pace of his thrusts.

Valaena took one of Aemonds hands that was on her hip and brought it to the back of her head.

Knowing what she wanted, Aemond placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into the mattress, her back arching.

His cock reaching deep inside her as he moved with such ferocity it could rival an animal, his long silver hair unbound and sticking to his sweaty back.

Aemond then grasped both of Valaena’s arms and held them behind her back as he pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.

Valaena’s cries of pleasure were muffled by the mattress, her face buried in the soft fabric.

Her body arched in response to Aemond’s relentless rhythm, each cry escaping her lips in a series of desperate moans that reverberated through the room.

Aemond’s grip on Valaena was fierce, his movements relentless. He drove into her with a force that seemed almost brutal, but Valaena took every thrust with an almost frantic eagerness.

Her body trembled under him, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she surrendered completely to the intensity of their coupling.

“Fuck-that’s it-that’s it-” moaned Aemond.

He released Valaena’s arms and then took hold of her long hair, twisting his fingers into the tousled strands before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held her tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

One hand grasped her hip, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh. Whilst his other released her hair and moved to her throat, squeezing gently.

“Give it to me please” pleaded Valaena her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder, her arm reaching behind her to tangle in his hair as their lips connected in a messy, passionate kiss.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside Valaena.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from her wet heat and laid across the bed.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Valaena breathlessly.

 “Ride me-” replied Aemond as he pulled her on top of him. His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

 “Yes-” gasped Valaena as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at Valaena as she rode him.

Valaena dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Valaena as he suddenly sat up, moving his hand to her breast again and taking her nipple into his mouth, his teeth biting down on the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“AEMOND” screamed Valaena her vision going white as she came around his cock.

He pulled her closer and then rolled her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he pounded into her with a series of deep penetrating thrusts, her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping his body against hers as he chased his own end.

Aemond’s grip on Valaena tightened as he neared his own climax, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more forceful.

The noises he made were almost otherworldly, a mix of loud guttural growls and breathless moans.

“I love you-I love you-I love you” groaned Aemond as he exploded.

Aemond’s body tensed against Valaena’s, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm. Then, as his pleasure subsided, he collapsed onto her, his chest heaving as he relaxed against her.

Valaena’s body shifted slightly beneath him, her own breath coming in soft, satisfied sighs as she remained still, embracing the weight of him.

She looked up at Aemond with a tender, loving gaze, her hands caressing his back as he rested against her, his breathing gradually slowing.

As Aemond and Valaena lay intertwined in the dim light of his chambers, listening to the wind and rain raging outside.

Aemond’s arm rested protectively around her, his head nestled against her shoulder. The crackling fire in the hearth cast flickering shadows over their bare skin.

Aemond tilted his head, his sapphire eye gleaming softly as he looked at her. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Valaena smiled, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his arm. "Do you remember that time I fell and scraped my knee in the gardens?"

Aemond chuckled softly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Yes," he said, the memory vivid. "You wouldn't let anyone assist you. I seem to recall you tried to bite a septa who dared take hold of you and force you to your feet." His smile widened as he added, "Hmm, what was it she called you? Ah, yes. A vicious little beast."

Valaena smiled sadly. "She deserved it, the crusty old bag."

Aemond turned, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at her. "I do remember you had a particular dislike for that septa," he said, his tone more serious now. "But why? You never really told me."

Valaena’s gaze dropped to the sheets, her fingers idly playing with the fabric. After a moment, she sighed. "She wasn't very kind to me. In public, she acted as though she respected me—bowing and addressing me as Princess. But in private-" Her voice trailed off.

Aemond’s brow furrowed in concern. "-What do you mean?" he asked, his tone soft yet insistent.

Valaena hesitated for a moment, then spoke quietly. "She used to tell me that my kind shouldn’t exist. That we were creatures born of sin and depravity." She swallowed hard, her voice wavering with the weight of old memories. "-She would whip me with a cane if I answered questions about the Faith of the Seven incorrectly. She never let me forget that my egg didn't hatch. Told me that I wasn’t a true Targaryen because of it-"

Aemond’s jaw tightened, his hold on her instinctively growing firmer as if he could shield her from those old wounds.

He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I had no idea you went through that."

Valaena smiled weakly, her hand slipping to rest on his chest. "It was a long time ago," she said softly. "But it hurt-to hear those words"

Aemond understood all too well what it meant to be a Targaryen without a dragon. He remembered the sting of feeling less than what others expected, the whispers and the doubts.

It was, in fact, what had drawn them together as children—the shared pain of being dragon less while the others revelled in their bonds.

Back then, the others had their dragons. And they had each other.

Aemond’s voice was a soothing murmur in the quiet. "Well, look at you now," he said, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her skin. "The rider of Silverwing, the dragon who once belonged to Good Queen Alysanne."

Valaena smiled at that, a flicker of pride in her eyes. "Yes," she said, her voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. "Luckily, the septa has since passed on. Otherwise, not only would I spit in her smug ugly mug- I’d have Silverwing burn her alive."

Aemond chuckled, the sound low and affectionate as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. "Hmm," he hummed against her skin, his lips brushing her collarbone. "My vicious little dragoness has her claws."

Valaena laughed softly, running her fingers through his silver hair. "You love it," she teased.

Aemond looked up at her, his eye gleaming with a quiet intensity. "I do," he admitted, his voice tender. "Very much." He snuggled closer to her, his face pressed gently against her breasts, his breaths slowing as he began to drift into sleep, content and safe in her arms, unaware of Valaena gently moving his hand to rest upon her stomach.

TBC

[solastia]

Indulgence

Pairing: Yoongi, Jimin, F!Reader

Kinktober Theme: Threesome

TW: Power imbalance, light choking, threesome, MMF, polyamory, no protection is even mentioned, can seduction be dubious consent? Because if so then yeah, they kinda gaslight you into fucking them lmao. Big dick Yoongi. I'm adding that because I don't usually do that. Dirty talk. Oh, I should probably warn I use cunt, because I like that word. *shrug*

Welcome to another edition of Solastia fails to make a drabble a drabble! I was just going to make a short drabble for Kinktober, but here we are with 5K instead *sigh*. I'll try better with the rest of them. In the meantime, very cheesy erotica ahead with limited plot.

This was the end of your first week at Yoonmin Corp., the new leaders in tech in your city. The CEO’s had taken the city by storm, and you had been quick to grab a job with the promising company.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of violet and indigo, as you emerged from the sleek glass doors of Yoonmin Corp headquarters. A warm breeze, heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine, ruffled your hair as you made your way down the broad stone steps. The past five days had passed in an exhilarating blur of meetings, presentations, and dazzling technological displays that left your mind reeling.

Whispers swirled around the enigmatic CEO duo, Min Yoongi and Park Jimin, who had burst onto the scene mere months ago. With their disruptive innovations and magnetic charisma, they were the talk of every social circle and business journal in the city. Rumors abounded of their rapid rise, unconventional methods, and the secrets that surely lay behind those piercing gazes and seductive smiles.

Wait. Maybe you hadn't intended to think that last phrase, but it lingered in your mind like a persistent itch. Piercing and seductive? Yes, that fits. Because that had been your only issue with this place. Well, not so much an issue as a mystery.

Since the moment you sat at the desk in front of their glass office, you’d felt like prey. Their eyes always watching you, one or the other finding a reason to stride out of their office like panthers to “chat” with you at your desk. And one very memorable moment where you’d caught them making out in their office and Yoongi had stared you down the entire time. 

You shake your head, trying to clear yourself of the strange thoughts. As you reached the bottom of the steps, a sleek black car with tinted windows glided to a stop at the curb. The door swung open, and a handsome man in a tailored suit stepped out, inclining his head to you.

"Good evening. Mr. Min and Mr. Park request your presence." His rich baritone sent a shiver down your spine.

Heart pounding, you slid into the plush leather backseat, the door closing with a muted click. The interior was dimly lit, all polished wood and gleaming chrome. Across from you lounged the infamous CEOs themselves, Min Yoongi and Park Jimin, shadows playing across their striking features. What the hell could you have done already? Not to mention you were clocked out for the day.

"Thank you for joining us," Yoongi purred, his cat-like eyes glinting in the low light. "We've been watching you this week. Your...potential intrigues us."

Jimin leaned forward, his perfectly styled hair falling artfully over his brow. The spicy scent of his cologne filled the air between you, making your pulse race even faster. 

"You've exceeded all expectations. Your brilliance, your dedication...and perhaps other qualities as well." His gaze drifted languidly over your form, a smirk playing at the corner of his full lips.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure under the intensity of their stares. The car purred to life and pulled away from the curb, the city lights blurring into streaks of neon beyond the tinted glass. 

"I'm flattered, but I'm not sure I understand. What exactly are you looking for from me outside of my regular duties?"

Yoongi chuckled, a low, velvety sound that seemed to resonate in your bones. He exchanged a loaded glance with Jimin, their eyes glittering with unspoken promises. 

"We have a special project in mind. One that requires someone with your unique combination of intellect, discretion, and...allure."

Jimin's fingertips grazed your knee, the brief contact searing through the thin fabric of your slacks. 

"It's not the sort of thing we can discuss at the office. Too many prying eyes and ears. We have a private penthouse where we prefer to handle our most sensitive business."

The car turned down a narrow side street, the buildings towering above you like sentinels guarding forbidden secrets. Your breath caught in your throat as the implications of their words sank in.

 "This project...it's not entirely professional, is it?"

Yoongi's lips curved into a wicked smile. 

"Clever and perceptive. I knew we chose well." He leaned back, draping an arm across the seat. "No, this venture is of a more...intimate nature."

Jimin's hand slid higher up your thigh, his touch light but deliberate. 

"We've built an empire on pushing boundaries and shattering expectations. In business, and in pleasure." His voice dropped to a husky murmur. "There are no limits to the heights we can reach together."

Your skin prickled with heat, every nerve alight. This was insane. Reckless. Yet the magnetic pull of their power and sensuality was undeniable.

 "And if I refuse?"

"Then we return you to your little desk, no questions asked," Yoongi replied smoothly. "But I don't think you will. I think you crave something more. Something extraordinary." His eyes bored into yours, stripping away your defenses layer by layer.

The car slowed to a stop and the driver opened the door. You stepped out onto a private underground parking garage, your legs unsteady beneath you. Yoongi and Jimin emerged like twin shadows, their movements fluid and hypnotic.

"Come," Jimin coaxed, offering his hand. "Let us show you the world that awaits."

Heart thundering against your ribs, you placed your trembling fingers in his warm palm. His grip was firm, confident, as he led you to a private elevator. Yoongi pressed a code, and the doors slid open with a hushed whoosh.

Inside, the air crackled with tension. Jimin's body was a hair's breadth from yours, his heat seeping into your skin.

The elevator ascended swiftly, your stomach fluttering with anticipation and trepidation. Jimin's thumb traced maddening circles on your palm, each caress sending sparks racing up your arm and down your spine. Yoongi leaned against the mirrored wall, his hooded gaze devouring your every reaction.

With a soft chime, the doors opened directly into a sprawling penthouse suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a breathtaking panorama of the glittering cityscape below. Sleek, modern furnishings in shades of black and crimson filled the space, the décor dripping with decadence and sensual promise.

Yoongi's hand settled on the small of your back, guiding you into the room.

"Welcome to our private sanctuary," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "A place where we can indulge our deepest desires without restraint."

Your heart raced as you took in the opulent surroundings—the plush velvet couches, the gleaming marble bar, the massive bed draped in silk. Every detail whispered of luxury and temptation. Jimin circled around to face you, his eyes smoldering with unspoken promises.

"You're trembling," he observed, trailing a fingertip along your collarbone. "Is it nerves? Excitement?" His lips quirked. "Anticipation of what's to come?"

"All of the above," you managed, your voice breathy. The raw magnetism of these men was overwhelming, short-circuiting your rational mind. Jimin's fingertip dipped lower, grazing the swell of your breast through your thin blouse. Your nipples tightened, aching for his touch.

Yoongi moved behind you, his solid form pressing against your back. Strong hands settled on your hips, holding you captive between their bodies. 

"There's no need to be nervous," he purred, nuzzling the sensitive spot beneath your ear. "We'll take good care of you."

Jimin's nimble fingers released the top button of your blouse, then another, baring a tantalizing glimpse of lace-clad curves. 

"So beautiful," he praised, his gaze molten. "I've been imagining peeling you out of these prim little office clothes all week."

A moan caught in your throat as Yoongi's teeth grazed your earlobe, sending tingles racing across your sensitive skin. His hands slid from your hips to splay across your stomach, holding you firmly against the solid heat of his body.

"Let us worship you," he growled, his deep voice vibrating through you. "Let us show you pleasures you've only dreamed of."

Jimin finished unbuttoning your blouse and pushed it off your shoulders, letting it flutter to the floor. Cool air whispered across your overheated flesh, pebbling your exposed skin. His fingertips traced the scalloped edge of your lacy bra, dipping beneath the fabric to tease your aching nipples.

"Exquisite," he breathed, his eyes devouring you. "I want to taste every inch of you."

Your head fell back against Yoongi's shoulder as Jimin's fingers worked their magic, caressing and teasing your sensitive flesh. Yoongi's grip on your waist tightened, holding you steady as your knees threatened to buckle under the onslaught of sensation.

"So responsive," Yoongi purred, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I can feel how much you want this. How much you need it."

Jimin deftly unclasped your bra, letting it slide down your arms to join your blouse on the floor. His heated gaze raked over your exposed breasts, the naked hunger in his eyes making you throb with need.

"Perfection," he murmured, cupping the soft mounds in his palms. "I could spend hours worshipping these alone."

A whimper escaped your lips as Jimin's thumbs circled your sensitive nipples, the rough pads igniting sparks of pleasure that shot straight to your core. Yoongi's hands slid lower, deftly unfastening your slacks and easing them over the curve of your hips. The brush of cool air against your bare thighs made you shiver, goosebumps racing across your skin.

"So soft," Yoongi growled appreciatively, his fingers skimming the lacy edge of your panties. "I can't wait to feel these silky thighs wrapped around my waist as I sink into your tight pussy."

His blunt words sent ripples to your core, dampening your panties, your need for them ratcheting higher with each passing second. Jimin's hands continued their sweet torment, rolling and plucking your stiff nipples.

Yoongi's fingers dipped beneath the delicate lace of your panties, grazing your slick, sensitive folds. A gasp tore from your throat at the electric contact, your hips bucking into his touch. 

"Already so wet for us," he purred, circling your aching clit with a featherlight caress. "I knew you'd be perfect."

Jimin's mouth replaced his fingers on your breasts, his clever tongue swirling around one taut peak before drawing it between his lips. He sucked deeply, sending shockwaves of bliss ricocheting through your body. Your hands tangled in his silky hair, holding him closer as he lavished your aching flesh with expert attention.

"Please," you whimpered, lost to the exquisite sensations they were unleashing. "I need..."

Yoongi's fingers delved deeper, parting your slick folds to tease your throbbing entrance. "Tell us what you need, baby," he coaxed, his voice a sinful rasp against your ear. "We want to hear you say it."

Your cheeks burned, a heady mix of desire and embarrassment flooding through you. But the desperate ache between your thighs overrode any lingering shyness. 

"I need you inside me," you breathed, arching into his touch. "Both of you. Please..."

Jimin released your nipple with a wet pop, his eyes blazing with lust as they met yours.

"Fuck, I love hearing you beg for us," he growled. In one fluid motion, he hooked his fingers in your panties and tugged them down your trembling legs.

Cool air kissed your exposed flesh, making you gasp and shiver with need. Yoongi's fingers continued to tease your slick folds, circling your throbbing clit in maddening strokes. 

"So pretty," he purred, dipping one long finger inside your clenching heat. "I can't wait to feel this sweet pussy stretched around my cock."

Jimin kneeled before you, his heated gaze drinking in the sight of your bared pussy.

"Delectable," he murmured, hooking your thigh over his broad shoulder. "I'm going to devour this perfect cunt until you scream for us, baby."

His scorching breath feathered over your sensitive flesh a moment before his wicked tongue delved between your folds. A broken moan tore from your throat as he lapped at your dripping slit, the velvet caress of Jimin's tongue against your most intimate flesh sent shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through your body. Your hips bucked forward, seeking more of that exquisite friction as he laved your throbbing clit with firm, deliberate strokes.

"That's it, baby," Yoongi purred in your ear, his fingers continuing their maddening tease of your slick entrance. "Let him taste how sweet you are. How desperate for our touch."

Jimin growled against your sensitive flesh, the vibrations making you cry out and clutch at his hair. He sealed his lips around your aching bud, suckling deeply as he worked two fingers inside your clenching channel. Your inner muscles gripped him greedily, drawing him deeper into your molten core.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Jimin groaned, pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm that made your toes curl. "I can't wait to feel this perfect pussy squeezing my cock."

Yoongi's hand slid up your body to cup your breast, kneading the soft flesh as he rocked his hardness against the curve of your ass. 

"So fucking responsive," he rasped, pinching your nipple between his fingers. "I knew you'd be perfect for us the moment I laid eyes on you."

Their dual assault on your senses was overwhelming, pushing you rapidly towards the edge. Jimin's fingers curled inside you, stroking that sensitive spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids. His tongue flicked rapid fire against your clit, the pressure building to an unbearable peak.

"That's it, baby," Yoongi growled, his hips grinding against your ass in time with Jimin’s movements.

Jimin's wicked tongue swirled faster over your swollen clit as his fingers thrust deeper, stroking that spot inside you that made your legs tremble. The coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter, your pussy clenching around his pumping digits.

"Gonna come for us, sweet thing?" Yoongi purred, roughly palming your breasts. "Wanna feel this tight little cunt squeeze Jimin's fingers when you let go?"

His filthy words and the relentless pleasure from Jimin's talented mouth shoved you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you in waves of ecstasy, a loud moan tearing from your throat as your inner walls spasmed. Jimin groaned against your throbbing flesh, lapping up your gushing release.

"Fuck, you taste incredible," he rasped, continuing to lick you slowly, drawing out your climax until you were a whimpering, trembling mess in their arms. Finally, he released you with a final slow lick, his eyes burning into yours as he rose to his feet.

"Exquisite," he murmured, his lips glistening with your juices. "I could feast on this sweet pussy for hours."

Yoongi's hands skimmed down your sides to grip your hips, holding you steady as Jimin claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue, the filthy eroticism making you throb with renewed need.

"My turn," Yoongi growled, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. "I'm going to fuck this tight little cunt until you forget your own name."

In a dizzying whirl of motion, Yoongi spun you around to face him, his dark eyes smoldering with barely restrained lust. His soft lips crashed against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours. You melted against the hard planes of his body, your hands fisting in the silky fabric of his shirt.

Jimin pressed against your back, his teeth grazing the curve of your shoulder as his nimble fingers unzipped Yoongi's slacks.

"I want to watch you take her," he purred, his breath hot against your ear. "Want to see that big cock splitting her open as well as it does me.”

Yoongi groaned into your mouth, his hand tangling in your hair to angle your head for a deeper kiss. Jimin's hands pushed Yoongi's pants down his hips, freeing his thick, heavy cock. It sprang free, the swollen head already glistening with arousal. Your eyes widened at the impressive size, a shiver of anticipation racing down your spine.

"Like what you see, baby?" Yoongi purred, wrapping a hand around his thick shaft and giving it a slow pump. "This is all for you. Every hard inch."

Jimin's fingers danced down your stomach to tease your slick folds once more.

"She's dripping wet and ready for you, Yoongi," he murmured, circling your sensitive clit. "I can feel how much she needs that big cock."

Yoongi walked you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the plush bed. He lowered you down onto the silk sheets, his larger body covering yours. The heat of his skin seared into you as he settled between your spread thighs, the thick length of his erection nestling against your slick folds.

"Going to fill this tight little pussy so deep," Yoongi growled, nipping at your lower lip. "Gonna make you scream on my cock."

Jimin climbed onto the bed behind Yoongi, his hands skimming possessively over the taut muscles of his partner's back. 

"Do it," he urged, his voice husky with need. "Claim her. Make her ours."

With a flex of his hips, Yoongi drove forward, impaling you on his thick shaft in one powerful thrust. A cry tore from your throat as Yoongi's thick cock stretched you deliciously, filling you to the brink. Your slick walls clenched around his pulsing hardness, your body struggling to accommodate his impressive girth. Yoongi groaned, his jaw clenching as he fought for control.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he grated out, his hips drawing back before snapping forward again. "So fucking tight and wet around my cock."

Your nails raked down his back as he set a deep, driving rhythm, each powerful thrust hitting that spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyelids. Jimin's hands roamed over both of you, his touch electric against your own overheated skin.

"She takes you so well," Jimin purred, his lips brushing Yoongi's ear.

Yoongi's hips pistoned faster, pounding into your willing body with increasing force. The obscene slap of flesh against flesh echoed through the room, mingling with your wanton moans and the men's harsh breaths. Jimin's fingers found your aching clit, rubbing tight circles around the throbbing nub in time with Yoongi's relentless thrusts.

"That's it, take his cock," Jimin growled, pinching your clit and making you cry out. "Let him fuck you senseless. Your pussy was made for us."

The dual stimulation rapidly pushed you towards another peak, your inner muscles fluttering wildly around Yoongi's driving shaft. He groaned, his rhythm faltering as your slick heat squeezed him like a vice.

"Gonna come on my cock, baby?" he rasped, swiveling his hips to grind with every deep stroke. "Want to feel this sweet pussy milk me dry."

His filthy words combined with Jimin's skillful fingers catapulted you over the edge. Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, pleasure exploding through your veins as you clenched vice-tight around Yoongi's plunging cock.

"Fuck, yes!" Yoongi roared, his own release overtaking him as your fluttering walls massaged his shaft. He buried himself to the hilt, his thick cock jerking as he emptied himself deep inside you.

Jimin stroked you both through the aftershocks, his touch gentling as the waves of bliss gradually subsided. Yoongi collapsed against you, his heavy breaths gusting over your sweat-dampened skin. You clung to his broad shoulders, your body trembling with the force of your release.

After a long moment, Yoongi rolled to the side, slipping out of your tender flesh with a hiss. Jimin immediately took his place, settling between your still-quivering thighs. His dark eyes raked over your flushed face and heaving breasts, his tongue darting out to wet his plush lips.

"My turn," he purred, the tip of his rigid cock nudging your slick entrance. "I've been aching to feel you stretched around me."

With a slow, deliberate flex of his hips, Jimin pushed forward, his shorter but thicker length gliding through your slick folds and into your waiting heat. A low moan escaped your kiss-swollen lips as he filled you inch by delicious inch, your sensitive walls stretching to accommodate his girth.

"God, you feel amazing," Jimin groaned, bottoming out inside you. He stilled for a moment, savoring the exquisite feel of your tight sheath gripping him like a velvet glove. "I knew you'd be perfect for us. Gonna keep you, I think."

Yoongi's fingertips skated over your nipples, the light touch reigniting the embers of your desire. 

"Such a good girl, taking us so well," he praised, rolling the pebbled nubs between his fingers. "We're going to ruin you for anyone else."

Jimin began to move, his hips rolling in a smooth, sensual rhythm that made your toes curl. He angled his thrusts to drag deliberately over that sensitive spot inside you with each stroke, sending sparks of electric pleasure zigzagging through your nerves. Your hands slid over the defined muscles of his back, feeling them flex and ripple beneath your touch as he worked your body with expert skill.

"You're so sensitive," Jimin purred, circling his hips to grind his pubic bone against your throbbing clit. "I can feel your pussy clenching every time I hit that sweet spot. You were made to take our cocks, weren't you baby?"

His dirty talk made you clench hard around him, a needy whimper escaping your throat. Yoongi chuckled darkly, his fingers reaching up to lightly grasp your neck. Not squeezing yet—merely a promise and a question all in one.

Yoongi's fingers tightened ever so slightly around your throat, the pressure making your pulse pound and your pussy clench hard around Jimin's pistoning cock. Jimin immediately groaned lustily, and Yoongi smirked, his dark eyes boring into yours and promising filthy delights.

"That's it, squeeze his cock," Yoongi growled. "Show him how much you love being stuffed full and used for our pleasure."

Jimin's rhythm faltered, a low groan rumbling in his chest as your slick walls massaged his plunging shaft.

"Fuck, keep doing that," he panted, his hips snapping faster. "Milk my cock with that greedy little cunt."

The erotic depravity of being caught between them, subject to their darkest whims and basest needs, sent you hurtling towards another overwhelming climax.

Yoongi's fingers on your throat, Jimin's thick cock pounding into your soaked heat, their filthy words filling your ears—it was all too much, too intense. The coil of tension inside you wound tighter and tighter with each skilled thrust and deliberate squeeze.

"Such a good little cock sleeve," Yoongi purred, his fingers flexing around your neck. "Taking us so well, letting us use this tight body however we want. You're ours now, baby. All ours."

Jimin changed his angle, hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars. Your back arched off the bed as a scream tore from your throat, your cunt clamping down like a vise around Jimin's cock.

"Fuck, just like that," Jimin grunted, sweat beading his brow as he fought to maintain his punishing rhythm through your clenching heat. "Gonna make me come so hard; fill this pussy up till it's leaking."

His words combined with the mind-blowing pleasure radiating from where he was so deeply embedded inside you sent you careening over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy, your vision whiting out as your body convulsed around him. A hoarse cry ripped from your chest as you shattered.

Yoongi's fingers spasming around your throat intensified your pleasure to an almost unbearable level. Jimin buried himself to the hilt with a guttural shout, his hips jerking erratically as his own powerful climax overtook him. You felt the hot spurts of his release painting your fluttering walls, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside your clenching heat.

"Fuck, baby, fuck!" Jimin groaned, his face contorting in ecstasy as your rippling channel milked him for every last drop.

You writhed beneath him, lost to the overwhelming sensations wracking your limp, sated body. Yoongi's fingers gentled on your neck, rubbing soothing circles over your hammering pulse.

Jimin collapsed against you, his weight a welcome blanket as you both trembled and panted, fighting to catch your breath in the aftermath of your explosive climaxes. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses to the finger-shaped marks Yoongi's grip had left behind.

"So perfect for us," Jimin murmured, his voice raspy with satisfaction. "Our beautiful little baby."

Yoongi's fingers carded through your damp hair, his touch gentling as he coaxed you down from the overwhelming high. 

"You exceeded every expectation," he praised, his lips brushing your temple. "I knew you would be exquisite, but the reality is beyond even my wildest imaginings."

You floated in a haze of blissful afterglow, your body limp and sated between their bodies.

Yoongi's hand smoothed over your hip as Jimin gently withdrew from your sensitive core. A whimper escaped your lips at the loss, your body clenching around emptiness. Jimin pressed a tender kiss to your collarbone before settling beside you, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your sweat-dampened skin.

"Rest now, sweet thing," Yoongi murmured, his deep voice a soothing rumble in your ear. "You've more than earned it after that performance."

You nuzzled into his warm chest, your heavy lids drifting closed as exhaustion pulled at your consciousness. A small, distant part of your mind buzzed with the implications of what you had just done—the line you had so eagerly and thoroughly crossed with your dangerously alluring bosses.

But the thoughts were hazy, slippery, unable to find purchase in your blissed-out mind. Enveloped by Yoongi and Jimin's warm, solid bodies, you let yourself drift, sinking into the decadent comfort of satin sheets and sated muscles.

"Sleep, baby," Jimin cooed, his plush lips grazing your shoulder. "We'll take care of you. Always."

The promise in his words seeped into your bones, chasing away the last tendrils of doubt.

You woke gradually, your body languid and heavy against smooth silk sheets. Confusion muddled your thoughts for a long moment before the memories of the previous night came rushing back in vivid detail—Yoongi and Jimin's magnetic pull, the all-consuming passion, the indescribable pleasure. A deep flush crept up your neck to your cheeks as you recalled the wanton way you had responded to their every touch and filthy word.

***

Soft sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, casting the opulent bedroom in a warm glow. You were alone in the massive bed, the rumpled sheets beside you cool to the touch. Distant sounds drifted from another room—the clatter of dishes, the rich aroma of coffee. Yoongi and Jimin's deep voices murmured too low for you to make out the words.

Slowly, carefully, you sat up, wincing slightly at the delicious ache between your thighs. The evidence of last night's passionate activities painted your body with beautiful bruises, a visceral reminder of how thoroughly they had claimed you.

Biting your lip, you slid from the bed, the plush carpet soft beneath your bare feet. A silk robe was draped over a nearby armchair, and you slipped it on, the cool fabric whispering over your sensitized skin. Hesitantly, you padded out of the bedroom, following the intoxicating scent of coffee and the rumble of masculine voices.

The open concept living area took your breath away—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, sleek modern furniture in shades of black and chrome, a gourmet kitchen with gleaming marble countertops.

And there, leaning against the island with mugs in hand, were Yoongi and Jimin, both shirtless and breathtaking in the morning light. Their heads were bent close together, their expressions serious as they spoke in hushed tones. Your heartbeat quickened at the sight of them; memories of their hands and mouths on your body making heat pool low in your belly.

As if sensing your presence, they looked up simultaneously, their gazes locking onto you with an intensity that made your breath catch. Identical slow, sensual smiles curved their lips as they raked their eyes over your silk-clad form.

"Good morning, beautiful," Jimin purred, setting his mug aside and prowling towards you with feline grace. "We were just talking about you."

"All good things, I hope," you managed, your voice emerging huskier than intended.

Jimin reached you, his hands settling on your hips and pulling you close. "Only the best," he murmured, dipping his head to nuzzle your neck. "How deliciously responsive you were, how exquisite you looked lost in pleasure, how perfect you felt wrapped around us..."

A shiver raced down your spine, your body reacting instinctively to his nearness, his touch, his scent. Yoongi approached more slowly, his dark eyes gleaming with wicked promise.

"We were discussing your future with us," he said, his voice a low rumble that resonated in your bones. "Last night was only the beginning, sweet thing. A test, of sorts. One you passed with flying colors."

Your heart raced, anticipation and trepidation warring within you. "What do you mean? What kind of future?"

Yoongi reached out, his fingers grazing your cheek in a featherlight caress. "The kind of future where you belong to us, in every sense of the word." His gaze burned into you, stripping you bare. "Your mind, your body, your soul—all ours to mold and worship as we see fit."

Your breath hitched, equal parts arousal and unease swirling in your gut. "I don't understand. I thought this was just...a one-time thing. A bit of fun." Even as the words left your lips, you knew they rang hollow. The connection you felt with these men, the intensity of what you had shared, was too profound to be so easily dismissed.

Jimin's hands slid up your sides, his touch searing through the thin silk. "Oh, baby," he purred.

His lips curved into a sensual smile against your ear. "You're far too special to be just a 'bit of fun', darling. From the moment we saw you, we knew you were meant to be ours. I know we said it last night, but we meant it." His fingers trailed along your collarbone, igniting sparks beneath your skin.

Yoongi stepped closer, his hand cupping your jaw and tilting your face towards his intense gaze. 

"We intend to claim you, completely and irrevocably," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "To bring you into our world and show you pleasures beyond your wildest imaginings."

A shiver raced down your spine, the dark promise in his words making your knees weak. "What does that mean? What world?" Your voice wavered, apprehension and intrigue warring within you.

Jimin's arms slid around your waist, pulling you back against the solid warmth of his chest. 

"A world of power, luxury, and decadence," he purred. "One where your deepest, darkest desires become reality." His lips grazed the shell of your ear. "With us, there are no limits, no taboos. Only pleasure."

Yoongi's hand slid into your hair, his fingers flexing possessively. "We want to give you everything," he murmured. "All you have to do is say yes. Give yourself to us, completely."

Your heart pounded against your ribs, their words awakening a hunger inside you that both thrilled and terrified you. You knew, instinctively, that if you agreed, there would be no going back. They would consume you, body and soul.

But oh, how tempting it was.

“Yes.” 

***

If you've made this far, congrats and I hope you didn't sneer too much. Also, I don't know if you noticed, but I tried to write this so that these three will be my main pairs for the rest of kinktober. So anything else I write will be these guys exploring kinks together.

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Pairing: Dabi x reader

Summary: a fic for this blurp;

Warnings: slightttt smut/mentions of smut; language; teasing;

Word Count: 3.5k

(I kinda want to write a full multi-chapter fic for this so let me know if anyone here would enjoy that!!)

You felt sick.

The bubbling cloud in front of you matched the contents of your stomach, the writhing horde of violet and ebony swirling in turmoil. A soft rumbling seemed to emit from the portal, a warning to surrender and run.

Giran, the League's silver haired broker, raised an arm, ushering you into the mass. A cigarette hung between his lips, the smoke leaving an unsavory odor in his wake. He offered you a sickly saccharine grin, the cigarette falling into the empty slot in his piano-like smile.

The man did nothing to settle your nerves. Still, your expression remained complacent; a mask that easily covered the anxiety bubbling underneath. 

Thoughts of caution gnawing at your train of thought definitely didn’t do anything to help, little reminders that whatever was on the other side of that shimmering gateway was ten times worse than the broker and his creepy persona. 

You had gotten the mission last week. It wasn’t particularly surprising, your status as one of the more covert pros amongst hero society meant that you were no stranger to undercover work.

Still, the word coming from your superiors that you would be infiltrating the League of Villains definitely didn’t fail to leave you shaken.

Their preferred strategy left you feeling even worse. 

Most female heroes were no stranger to using emotional manipulation, such as flirting, a tactic that you had used multiple times and had no issue with. 

Usually. 

Doing so with Dabi was well above your pay grade.

According to your higher-ups, the infamous fire wielding criminal had been spotted crawling around a bar in the northern side of the city, one that you had coincidentally utilized in the past for other missions. According to them, this made him vital to your mission for information on the League. 

He was your way in. 

Whether you wanted him to be or not. 

So you had taken a day or two to prepare, allowing the ambush of whisky and smoke to wash over your senses as you entered the bistro. The bartender, an undercover cop working to take down a drug ring leader, was someone you were well acquainted with, making the arrangement of your temporary employment go by without a hitch. 

It was a few days before he actually showed up.

The room had been bustling with noise, whether it be the shouts of remaining drunken patrons or the soft crackle of the fireplace in the corner, the glowing embers crying out with their final bouts of life. 

And then everything fell quiet. 

You turned from the wall of liquor you had been organizing, gaze falling over the figure dressed in black.

Locks the same shade of ebony as his jacket and skin pale enough to provide a sharp contrast to the scars painting his body, the man seemed to emit some sort of repellent, the customers slouching away in fear, gazes locked on the wooden flooring.

Smoke wafted through his fingers, dancing among the digits before fading into the night air, already infected with the scent of harsh liquor and cigarettes.

Unfortunately, you had met before, although he wouldn’t have any way of knowing that. He had been leading an unsuspected attack near Endeavor’s agency. Being one of the nearest heroes on the scene, you had been in charge of getting any civilians caught in the crossfire to safety.

Not all of them made it. 

The memories of those lost had kept you awake for days, nightmares plagued by their cries of pain and misery that seemed to haunt your every step.

In all honesty, the thought of looking at Dabi made your blood boil, the concept of even pretending to like him so much more horrific, a feeling you had spent the past few days attempting to push away.

Still, remnants of anger and displeasure left a sour taste in your mouth and a snarl that begged to tear at your lip, both you which was forced away with a swallow before continuing to work. A minute or two passed before you faced him, forcing a polite smile and picking up a few napkins. 

“Hi there, can I get you something to drink?”

When he turned your way, the look of pure irritation gracing his features made you almost positive he was going to tell you to fuck off. When he took you in, though, he paused, expressionless for a moment before allowing a grin to wash over his face. “Whiskey. Neat.”

The smile sent a shudder up your spine, but you nodded and grabbed the bottle.

Dabi watched you work, those turquoise eyes scanning your every move. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“I’m covering for my friend this week.” You handed him the drink with a small laugh. “This place doesn’t make enough money to be a stickler for employee regulations and I owed her a favor.”

Leaning forward, he casually cradled his face in his hand. “Is that so?”

You had gotten closer throughout the later hours of that night, telling him some sob story about hating hero society and the ideals they stood for. 

And when you felt him just dangling in the palm of your hand, you had asked about the League.

What you failed to notice, however, was that he did recognize you.

You had been a surprisingly annoying pain in his ass, rescuing the office workers with surprising vigilance.

He hadn’t seen your face, sure, but he had heard your voice, sure and steady as you led those around you to safety. Additionally, he had managed to spot a bit of your eyes through the rip in your mask, broken in the fray of the fight. And it was that mannered tone and stare that gave you away tonight. 

In complete honesty, he thought about turning you to ash right there. It wouldn’t be something new, especially for this establishment. 

Yet, despite the fact that he was practically positive this was some scheme, the way you approached him, eyelids fluttering and that amorous lilt to your tone, sparked a curiosity that he didn’t think he would mind fixing. It also definitely didn’t hurt to have a hero, especially one as pretty as you, wrapped around his arm for a while. 

It would be all the more exciting to watch you crack.

So he called Giran the next day, dropping your name along with the time and place to meet up.

And so here you were.

Taking a breath, almost like the indigo fumes would suffocate you with their potency, you stepped forward, trying not to gasp as a weightless feeling overtook your body, prickling at your limbs and fingers for far too long. It couldn’t have come soon enough when your foot hit solid ground, that nauseous feeling dissipating with the writhing mass around you. 

Body still undergoing the effects of such an odd journey, you tried desperately not to fall over, fingers shaking just slightly as you took in the room around you.

Darkness filled most of the space, dim lamps and ceiling lights filling in the gaps. You recognized most of the faces in front of you, whether it be from mission overviews or wanted posters.

The one sitting at the bar was the only one you'd had the displeasure of meeting personally.

Posture screaming indifference, Dabi rested his scarred face in the palm of his hand, a lazy grin sinking over his features.

“Hey there, doll.”

Disgust jumped in your stomach, a sensation that you quickly wiped away with a smile of your own. "Hi."

Most of the group met you with an excited sense of immediate camaraderie. You didn't fail to notice, however, the glare Shigaraki kept giving you, knotted with distrust.

Thankfully, he seemed desperate for allies.

With one of the League's top players by your side, and your own personal skills, made the initiation process fairly quick and easy.

The next few days?

Absolutely not.

Time didn't seem to make your mission any less bearable, the flirting just as nausea inducing a week later as it was on day one.

You spent half of your time pretending that you liked the League and the other half hating yourself for doing so.

Giran had made sure you didn't have any form of communication upon entry, whether it be a phone or a tapped wire, effectively cutting you off from the rest of the world.

It wasn't just lonely, but completely humiliating.

Your target had been surprisingly responsive to your courting, regardless of the usually solitary persona talked about in the tabloids, making it increasingly difficult to make sure nothing actually happened.

Dabi, on the other hand, was enjoying himself immensely.

He would let you do away with those sweet smiles and fluttering eyelashes, watching in amusement as you attempted to break through his walls. It was easy to ignore how easily you might've done so if he hadn't known your true identity, that sure sense of control he held over you made sure of that.

Contrary to what he had planned when you first arrived, he had come to the resolution that you would not be killed when this shit all blew over.

Oh, no. He found himself increasingly content with the idea of keeping you for his own instead, making sure that you kept faithful to all those untruthful promises made with honeyed words.

The way you always seemed to dodge his advances before going too far was annoyingly impressive, sure, but he'd let you believe that you had the power here.

It wasn't like it would be that way for much longer.

At first, you might find it difficult to live under his command, a future Dabi was excited to see. The soft obsession brewing for you did nothing to quell the masochistic desire to see you struggle under his hand, it seemed. Regardless, he could easily imagine a future where you grew to follow his lead, a little toy to play with at his beck and call.

Just like you were now, rifling through bottles of alcohol at his request. You plucked out a bottle of whiskey, pouring the caramel-colored liquor before sliding over the drink and moving to occupy the seat next to him.

"Driving somewhere tonight?" he asked, taking note of the lack of alcohol in your own cup, the dusty glass filled with tap water.

“Can’t make it that easy on you, right?” You tossed a wink in his direction. “Or are you one to back down from a challenge?”

“Definitely not.”

The response had you suppressing a shiver. It didn’t feel so much a response as it did a promise, a vow that coupled with that ardent blue stare to make a terrifying duo.

You had never been more thankful for Shigaraki’s presence as you were now, him slamming the door open and easily harnessing the attention in the room.

"Get over here. We're discussing tomorrow's mission." he motioned to Dabi, gaze swiveling in your direction. "You, out."

"She won't be a problem?" The man next to you threw an arm over your shoulder, hopefully missing the slight flinch running up your body as his did so. "Will you, doll?"

You were ready to shake your head in agreeance, but the sneer Shigaraki sent you had you rethinking. "It's okay, I'll just see you guys tomorrow."

Their leader's dismissal didn't have you worried. As long as you asked nicely with faux thoughtlessness, Dabi had been surprisingly satisfied to give you any information that you missed out on after meetings and you were certain this one wouldn't be any different. The fruits of your labor had definitely been helping you in cases like this.

The prospect of taking a moment alone to shake off Dabi's words was also tempting.

He gave you a nod as you gave a small 'see you later' and walked off to your room, trying your best to ignore the scarlet glare piercing your skin.

Shigaraki was suspicious of you, and for good reason. You could only imagine how pissed he would be when he figured out who, or what, he had let into his precious hideout.

Oh, well.

You’d be gone by then.

Night fell over the city, a blanket of angry clouds covering the navy sky, bullets of rain threatening to drop from their ashen, puffed confinements. An hour, maybe two, had passed before your door creaked open.

It didn't matter that Dabi lacked the basic decency to knock; you refused to allow yourself to let your guard down at any moment here anyway.

"I hope the meeting went okay. Shigaraki seemed bitchy-er than usual."

You didn’t miss the small smirk earned at your comment. "Fine. He's stressing about attacking those U.A. brats again."

Blinking in surprised, you watched Dabi lean against your doorframe in a seemingly unbothered daze. "No offense, but isn't their security... really good? I'd doubt they'd let someone slip after what happened a few months ago."

The attack on USJ had been all over the news for weeks. Apparently, half the class had barely survived it. The idea of another ambush had your chest hurting for the children.

But there’s no way the teachers would let anything like that again.

Right?

"They're at some stupid summer camp thing or some shit,” he replied, taking note of the skepticism still overtaking your features and cracking a mock grin. “Aww, is someone worried for me?”

“You wish.”

Worried about you?

Sure.

Worried for you?

Different story.

“Don’t know if I believe that, princess,” he chuckled, walking over to your side. “You’ll be happy to hear that it should be easy. Especially with one of those dumbasses telling us where the kids will be and when.”

At this point, it was obvious that you were quite the actress. He barely even noticed the surprise and horror glazing over your features when he revealed that the League had a spy. If he didn't know better, he might have thought you didn't care.

Now, he could basically see the gears in your mind turning, the veins running up and down your arms practically quickening with the beat of your heart.

You had what you needed, but he wasn't worried.

There wasn't anything that he could tell you that would actually be consequential.

It wasn't like you were actually leaving with any of this information anyway.

"Anyway, see you tomorrow, doll."

A small goodbye was all you offered, the meager farewell leaving Dabi nothing if not amused. He had no doubt that you were stewing in your own shock right now, a theory that was evidently true.

The room was quickly closing in on you now, the space far too confined for the magnitude of the secret you just discovered. At this point, you had what you needed, but the direct orders you had been given at the prospect of a certain attack rang through your mind as well.

Take down as many as possible.

No matter how much abhorrence you felt for these people and the things they did, you had never killed anyone, quietly living under the belief of redemption for all, one way or another. Your heart felt like stone, heavy with responsibility and cold with hatred.

Still, you knew what you had to do.

You could get Dabi, then maybe take care of one or two of the more trusting members before slipping away and into the night.

“Actually,” you cleared the fear from your voice, attempting to play it off as shyness. “Would you want to stay?”

He paused, hand motionless on the doorknob. For a moment, you weren’t sure if he had heard you correctly.

Then he turned, eyes glimmering in the darkness. “How could I say no to that?”

And he couldn’t have.

With upmost certainty, he knew what you were planning.

Still.

The simple look you gave him would’ve been enough, a delicious blend of lust and innocence concealed by a lidded gaze.

But your position may have been what did it, knees folded underneath you in submission and the neckline of your silk top falling slightly askew to reveal your shoulder.

So, no, Dabi would not have been able to deny you.

Which is precisely why he came prepared for the occasion.

You were quick, sure, but he knew about the kitchen knife you had hidden under your mattress, the one you had weighted in your hand to figure out how much force it would take to jab it through his throat without hurting yourself.

You, on the other hand, had absolutely no clue about the chloroform-soaked napkin in his back pocket.

And that ignorance, which he found oh-so adorable, was what ultimately led to your downfall. He watched in sick glee as the emotions washed over your face, first surprise, then fear, then soft acceptance as the world grew dark.

~

It could have been hours.

It could have been days.

However long you had been asleep, you weren’t sure.

The only thing you could really focus on was the blinding headache ripping through your skull.

Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any windows in whatever room you were in, but the soft lightbulb flickering above you was enough to make you squint in irritation.

A few minutes passed before the stinging subsided, allowing you to slowly take in your area.

Concrete surrounded you on all sides, the dark grey patterned with cracks and stains that made your stomach lurch at the thought of.

Hand cuffs entrapped your wrists, each bracelet connected to a large chain. Your eyes followed their lead up to the ceiling, where the links conjoined into what looked like a pulling system, connecting into one and falling onto the ground on the other side of the room.

The device would allow your captors to haul you up or down at will.

You were resting pretty on the floor now, sure, but they could leave you hanging here for days if they wanted to, arms crying out in exhaustion before ultimately giving out, tearing apart at the joints.

You tried to harness your quirk but the soft hum of power singing through your veins fell quiet, silenced by whatever materials they put into these cuffs.

A few minutes of trying to remove them passed before the door opened.

“What are you doing?” You asked, tone laced with feigned confusion and tangible fear.

Dabi cocked an eyebrow, fingers curling around the chain before giving it a hard pull. The tug had your body launching upward until you were eye level with him, shoulders throbbing in pain at the sudden jerk. “Still playing dumb, huh, little hero?”

Your heart plummeted, the emotion clearly showing on your face if the immediate grin on his was any indication. “I don’t-“

“Ah, come on, doll. Give me something to work with.” He grabbed your chin with a free hand, watching in delight as you struggled to remove yourself from his hold. With your body suspended in air, toes barely grazing the floor to keep the burden off your arms, it was a lost cause. “What? You were practically begging me to touch you like this yesterday. Done playing whore? But you do it so well.”

“Fuck you.”

He clicked his tongue in mock disappointment.“What a pretty girl for such a dirty mouth. Wonder what else it does.”

“They’ll come for me.” The threat sounded disgustingly pathetic.

“Who? The same people who sent you into this hellhole?” The malice in his cackle made you want to vomit. “They don’t give a shit about you, sweetheart. You’re not going anywhere. Besides I think I might just wanna keep you.” The words sent ice shooting down your veins.

Slowly releasing your face and backing away, Dabi let go of the chain, sending you hurdling to the floor, knees now bloodied and bruised from landing on the concrete.

Still, you lunged forward, bindings catching your wrists and forcing you in place, just inches away from being able to claw out those glowing cerulean eyes.

Dabi watched you struggled, arrogance lacing those sharp features in a way that made you want to scream.

“I’ll tell the pros you say hi when I see them later,” he turned, waving a mindless hand in your direction as he opened the door. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t miss me too much.”

Your muffled screams of frustration followed him down the hall, nestling into his brain to be savored later, preferably in his room or with a hand wrapped around your throat.

Either way, he didn’t really mind.

As long as he had you.

[14dayswithyou]

Not sure if this was asked before, but how would everyone (especially Ren/Redacted) react to Angel being yelled at/harrassed by a customer ? And how would they deal with them ??

Ren: Would stutter out a weak response and try to get the customer to leave — all while placing his body in between the two of you and creating distance. Will definitely let you vent your frustrations to him afterwards, and even offer to stick around to watch over you to make sure they don't come back.

[REDACTED]: Depending on the severity, he's either going to immediately bite back and forcefully drag them out of the library, or he's going to give them the "fuck around and find out" treatment right there in front of the reception counter. Either way, he somehow manages to get the entitled customer to apologise to you — alongside promising to never speak to you like that again.

Moth: There isn't much they can do through a screen, but Moth will try their best to console you after the whole ordeal is over. Lots and lots of encouragement and shit talking (about the rude customer) ensues.

Violet: Won't try to interfere in case she'll cause a scene and rouse the other onlookers, but will definitely give the customer a piece of her mind once they stop talking. The moment Agatha gets placed on the counter instead of resting against her hip, you knooow she means business.

Elanor: She'll meekly interject, ask if you want to go take a breather in the staff room, and handle the customer herself. They'll probably cause more damage than good, but at least the ordeal would be settled.

Conan: Full-on Manager Mode. Steps in, handles the situation effortlessly (a.k.a asks the customer to leave and blacklists them), and offers to take over your shift so you can go home early and calm down. He'll then give you tasks that don't require talking to customers for the next few shifts.

Jae: Similar to Elanor, he might add more fuel to the fire by stepping in — but he isn't afraid to speak his mind and call the rude customer out on their behaviour. You'd have to calm him down because his hands would definitely be shaking afterwards.

Leon: Somehow manages to charm the customer into shutting up and seeing reason — before pulling you away and sitting with you on the back entrance steps of the library to help you calm down. He'll reassure you that it wasn't your fault, and that the customer was probably just having a bad day and was taking it out on you.

Teo: Realistically, he'd ignore the entire ordeal since it's not his business (and he wouldn't really care tbh), but blog AU!Teo would step in once things gets heated and casually tell the customer to fuck off. He'd probably lie and say his father owns the library in order to make himself seem like an important person... before leaning in real close and cracking a joint in his neck (as a threat).

Olivia: Probably won't interfere because spineless, entitled customers are the worst kind of people for retail workers like her to deal with; but she'll 100% rub your back and let you vent your frustrations to her afterwards. Might try to cheer you up with some AoG stickers she swiped from her workplace.

Kiara: Has dealt with enough rude customers to know how to defuse the tension with ease. Similar to [REDACTED], Conan, and Leon; she'll make them see reason one way or another — and somehow end up getting the customer to apologise to you as well.

[kyushiblast]

Hiii !

May i ask for some jealousy with (separate) team star x reader ? Like their s/o is being close with someone else, or just general thoughts about it. I lack originality but there’s sooo little stuff with them

Only take the guys if all five are too much

Most importantly, have a good day ‼️

⤷ 〝 hit up. 〞

➞ pairing : giacomo , ortega , atticus , mela , & eri x gn! reader

➞ summary : team star reactions to someone hitting on you.

➞ genre : fluff

➞ cw / other : slight cursing

➞ a/n : i cannot DESCRIBE how hard i mentally screamed when i saw mela for the second time playing through pokemon violet. like please , she’s not the fire crew boss for nothing

❝ giacomo ❞

— ★ really pissed off.

— ★ of course, he’d probably try to hide it from the other person—scoffing and glaring at the other whilst behind you.

— ★ i kind of imagine him, if it were in a private place, to be blasting music anytime the other would talk just to annoy them more.

— ★ if the other tries dissing his music, he’ll probably break a fuse—especially if it was dedicated to you. but then he’ll calm down, because if he’s ever learned something from bullies, it’s that all they want is a reaction to their taunting.

— ★ doesn’t care how loud he yells in public unless it makes you uncomfortable.

— ★ giacomo would roast the person in return, hook his arm around your shoulder, and amble off with the middle finger up at the person just to spite them.

— ★ and despite looking all tough and whatnot, he’d still pleasantly kiss you on the lips afterward.

❝ ortega ❞

— ★ will roast the heck out of the other. when i tell you he is the most mischievous, best representing with a shit eating grin i mean it.

— ★ the other person’s flirting with you? get FLAMED by ortega. and he’s not even the fire type crew leader, but he is going to be ROASTING the other like there’s no tomorrow.

— ★ “sorryyy, i would battle you, but my pokémon tend to get bored in the middle of battles with low-life losers like you,” he’d say.

— ★ will cling to your arm subconsciously, pissing off the other more. and if you’re able enough, he’ll want a back ride right in front of the person.

— ★ and then after, when the person leaves as a wreck from ortega’s sharp remarks and lines, ortega would probably wave bye to them saying something like: “byee, cya never!”

— ★ finally, he’d pepper your face with kisses no matter how dorky it looks.

❝ atticus ❞

— ★ the calmest of the bunch.

— ★ will be polite with a slight twinge of annoyance in his voice.

— ★ if the person doesn’t leave, he’ll start becoming more annoyed. but since he’s not the type to stir a scene, he’ll just tenderly take your hand and walk off with you.

— ★ if the person follows, they’re just asking for trouble. POKÉMON BATTLE TIIIIIME

— ★ after drenching them with a poisonous defeat, he would say in his own atticus way that the person needs to move on.

— ★ then he’d start thanking you for not going with that other person and he’ll vent about how he hates when people are like this.

— ★ expect more scheduled dates after!!

❝ mela ❞

— ★ hot tempered. would accuse the other of trying to steal you away before stating that they have no chance.

— ★ no mercy whatsoever, except maybe for a little pity glare that screams “go away!” to the other if they seem apologetic enough.

— ★ will walk in front of you and hold out her arm protectively—maybe out of habit in her earlier years—even if you’re perfectly capable of defending yourself.

— ★ she’s dominant in the conversation. will barely let the other talk. the only thing she’ll gladly hear is their apologizing for hitting on you and/or admittance that they’re no match for her.

— ★ after, she’s miss mean-but-with-good-intentions again! she’ll tsk and deny everything if you tease her.

— ★ expect random acts of kindness after.

❝ eri ❞

— ★ the nicest. she’ll politely explain that you’re spoken for and ask for them to stop.

— ★ and if they don’t? then she’ll step it up and insist more. will point towards a pokémon battle.

— ★ she’s extra set on doing her best, especially since if she loses she’ll lose her pride of being strong for you. her pokemon seem to sense that too.

— ★ after, if she notices that the pokemon of the other seem to have a close bond to their trainer, signaling that the person’s not as bad as they show but just desperate, she’ll hype ‘em up saying something like: “i’m sure there’s someone out there fit for you!” but if it’s the opposite, she’s going to be naturally cold to them.

— ★ and as the other slumps away, she’ll hug you and ask if she did well.

— ★ she’ll take you to eat somewhere afterwards.

work of kyushiblast , please do not translate , copy , or repost here or on any other platform !!

[alicerosejensen]

I love your page so much omg. I‘m literally obsessed with your work😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Also I have this imagination in my mind going on about how Leon would try to help his girlfriend from recovering from her mental health issues since she’s always helping him. I was recently thinking about how he would react finding her not moving on the bathroom floor and trying to bring her back! I rewatched American horror stories and the scene with tate and violet in the first season episode 6 (ig?) is always in my head. I‘m still recovering from my past and my unhealthy habits and tbh recovery never felt better.

If this is too much for you or triggering please ignore this.🫶🏼❤️

I had a terrible period in my life when I was a few steps away from doing something like this in my life and unfortunately this shit often comes out. I'm not sure that such texts help me work through my psychological traumas, which were, in fact, inflicted on me and continue to be inflicted by close people who do not consider me a person, but at least such works help me to vent my pain, which I cannot permanently bury in myself.

I have been postponing this request for a long time because I was probably waiting for the right moment to write this text.

There are mentions of suicide, psychological trauma, severe self-doubt and anxiety, so if this is not acceptable to you, then please just block it.

Perhaps there is a similarity with my previous texts, but I am writing this with strong emotions now that I am trying to cope with it again.

the text is chaotic, I repeat, written while I was under the influence of strong heavy emotions. Maybe I'll delete it later, when my brain gets back to normal a little bit.

If a songbird doesn't sing well, they wring its neck.

Maybe it was the costs of Leon's profession and the result of his constant missions, after which something human is gradually dying in him despite the constant struggle to save everyone. Raccoon City was supposed to teach, if not to survive, then make him begin to understand that some are doomed to die.

Leon Kennedy was taught not to offend, but to protect the weak, especially weak women. But it is difficult to calm the flow of disordered thoughts and put aside the fear that has seized him in order to clamp bloody wrists and apply something to them to stop the blood. Leon knew many strong women: Ada was perhaps the first among them, he did not know either her past or her real name, only the present that pushed their foreheads against each other; Claire, a fighting friend of misfortune that he met in that ill-fated city; Ashley, who turned from a baby eagle into a proud eagle; Angela Miller and others…

Your strength dissolves in the water, coloring it scarlet while your heart stubbornly still beats, let the rhythm noticeably shorten.

In truth, over the past few months it became clear that this was the only way out. When even your loved ones considered you an expired product and did not hesitate to remember this and remind you every time. In the end, their words turned into an obsessive worm that settled in your head, slowly day after day, month after month, devouring you and the circumstances seemed to be not in your favor. Instead of support, you somehow faced reproach, as if the universe was screaming that you were an wrong person, nature's mistake who had no right to live.

Escape attempts were doomed to failure. At first you tried to suppress it in yourself, helping Leon, because, in your opinion, he was the only one who had the right to complain about life, although he did not do this in front of you, because everyone said that you had no problems: you have everything limbs, there are no fatal diseases, all loved ones are healthy and there is a roof over your head, as if this is enough to not fall for nonsense and not walk around forever with a sad face.

This was the last time you shared your experiences. You didn’t even bother telling Leon, but everything inside was torn from constant pain. The feeling was as if you were being beaten by two extremes that led you to the edge of an abyss where you ultimately voluntarily jumped.

no, you really loved him, it was just other people’s words and your own speculation that convinced you, despite your strong relationship with him, that Leon would find someone better, someone more confident in himself, someone who would not be you because you had already missed the chance for a good life because it moved too slowly. Ultimately, a couple of sips of alcohol with sleeping pills and a sharp blade in his hands simply promised to correct the mistake in the form of you with your own hands.

You didn't have the courage to do it any other way.

But you really didn’t think that if you could try to open up to your loved one, you would meet support and not condemnation. Perhaps in a mad world he would be the only one who would heal your wounds as you healed him in your time. Leon clenched his teeth, feeling tears flowing down cheeks, seeing these crimson stains, when he pulled your body out of the bath, holding you close to him, repeating “I’m holding you. It's allright"

He so carefully laid you on his lap, managing to pull out a first aid kit and then bandages to tightly, albeit carelessly, wrap them around your wrist in order to somehow stop the bleeding. At least you were still breathing, thereby giving him hope that everything could still be fixed. the darkness and emptiness came to life, calling in a whisper to dissolve into eternal silence where there is no pain or condemnation. Your body will be in a grave under a gray stone, while the remains of your soul will float like a small grain of sand in infinity.

For Leon, everything happens in a fog; he tried more than once to save people, but he had no right to lose in this battle, even if you yourself surrendered to death. Shaking his head, brushing away the tears, he wrapped your body in a large terry towel, kissed your temple and picked you up, trying to somehow warm you, pressing you closer to him. the ability to provide first aid in the field and pull suicides out of the other world is not the same thing. Leon would have thanked God if he had believed in him, convinced that blood loss was the least of the evils that you had caused yourself, until he saw the remains of some substance at the bottom of the glass that stood on the table along with an almost full bottle of alcohol.

You really didn't give him a chance.

The ambulance took several minutes, which seemed like an eternity. In fact, Leon wasn't sure if it was worth trying to make you vomit when you'd already lost so much blood that it was already seeping through the bandages. Surely you would need a transfusion and Leon is ready to give you all his blood if only you would wake up. Holding his breath, he carefully looked at your chest, watching whether you were breathing and fortunately, your heart was still beating, slowly, but it was still fighting for life.

He stroked you on the head, kissed you, promised that he would take you somewhere else, quiet, where no one would dare to offend you, even if it was your family. You could have just asked him for help, just cuddled up to him and he would have protected you from other people’s attacks, but you preferred to remain silent. Kennedy was tired of waiting for the medical staff to let him in, although relatives should be allowed to see the patient first, but the position of a government agent sometimes had its advantages, and they concerned not only the high salary. When he was let in to you, it seemed to him that you had become half your size while you were lying on the bed, curled up under the blanket. It didn’t work out to pull off a beautiful suicide, which meant that soon angry relatives would come here with new sweat of bile especially for you. They won’t care about your feelings, but Leon sat down next to you, trying not to intrude too much into the space in which you imprisoned yourself, as if this blanket cocoon could be a separate world where you could hide. He spoke to you carefully, hating himself for not being able to understand in time what was wrong with your behavior; perhaps if he had been more attentive to you, the incident could have been avoided. You would see a psychotherapist, take a course of medication, and your environment would definitely be taken care of.

You cry, not letting him come to you, hating how you weren't just left to die and how much you hate this world. Hysteria after hysteria, nervous breakdown after nervous breakdown, in the hospital you repeatedly tried to commit suicide, but the attentive staff managed to prevent this before you inflicted fatal injuries on yourself, and if after some time Leon still managed to carefully break through your armor, then your loved ones This did not concern relatives in principle. You only allowed one person to visit you while you were undergoing psychological treatment and you behaved calmer and calmer, listening to the velvety words that soon all this would be behind you.

“We’ll go home soon,” Leon smiled, gently holding your hand and kissing your forehead, just glad that you’re alive, that you’re breathing and that your psycho-emotional state is slowly but improving. “You know, I have a surprise for you, I think you’ll like it when we get home.”

Soon what happened will become another nightmare in his life, a blessing with a good ending, but for the sake of this happy ending, Kennedy is ready to descend into hell at least every day.

You nod at him and smile a little, fearing that the gift is some kind of party on the occasion of your discharge. In fact, the last thing you want is to see someone’s faces, especially those who diligently hammered into your head how insignificant you are. Why do you even hope that the doctor will postpone your discharge, but the plans for your further treatment were completely different.

On the other hand, after taking antidepressants and psychological help in a special medical institution, how many men are ready to stay with their girlfriends who have been there for several months? For Leon, it seems this was not a significant problem, or he simply carefully did not show it. However, there were no parties, no calls, you simply returned now to his home where there were new interior items. it became somehow more comfortable... but something else surprised you.

Puppy. A small puppy of a couple of months old ran towards you and Leon to meet both of them, but stopped and began sniffing your shoes, while something thawed in your heart.

“Animals seem to help us well, They feel when we feel bad, it seems to me a good idea to get us a little companion,” Leon said quietly, stroking your back while you were busy with the puppy, rejoicing at the little living soul who will love you with the same pure and devoted love.

Ultimately it should have a happy ending too. Leon is ready to go to great lengths so that his beloved songbird starts smiling and singing happy songs again, even if it is necessary to remove other birds from her family who sleep and see how to pluck all her wings again.

You and he also have a chance for a happy ending.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 19 | SR

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - a slight jump forward in time here. For the sake of this, Spencer’s mom lives back in Vegas.

Chapter Summary - after finding a new place to settle down, things finally seem like they might be looking up for you and Spencer. Meanwhile Luke refuses to rest while he continues searching for you.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - cleaning up a crime scene, burying bodies, fingering, handjob, swearing, vomit, brief mention of depression, penetrative, unprotected sex, lying.

WC - 5.7k

Chapter 19 - Stitch Me Up

Two Months Later

The desert city of Twentynine Palms, California was located in the Mojave Desert and sat on the northern side of the Joshua Tree National Park and promoted the motto “a beautiful desert oasis”. 

It wasn’t small but it was huge either, with a population of around twenty five thousand, making it a great place for two people to hide in plain sight. And given its desert location, the temperature this time of year was over one hundred and five, a stark contrast from tiny little Colorado mountain towns. 

Samuel and Violet Truman of Arizona had moved out west and rented themselves a little fully furnished three bed, single storey home on Chia Avenue in a quiet suburb of Twentynine Palms. They arrived two weeks ago after spending some six weeks travelling the states with their travel companions Jack and Lily Waters. 

From the outside their home left a lot to be desired, with its rickety metal fence and lone palm tree in the sandy front yard. But the inside was so modern and sheek that the couple had signed a lease on the spot. 

From the outside looking in, you and Spencer were the idyllic all American couple. And admittedly, from the inside you were also pretty damn happy. 

Since fleeing Crested Butte in the middle of the night two months ago, things had changed dramatically. That night you’d waited until Luke had stopped patrolling your cabin before getting Mary’s body into the trunk of the Nissan. You’d scrubbed every single inch of the house until it was cleaner than when you’d arrived, tweezed the bullet out of the wall and filled in the hole left behind, before gathering all of your belongings and getting the hell out of dodge. 

On the way out of town you had begged Spencer to make one last stop. He wanted to refuse, you could tell, but he was trying so hard to make you happy, to make up for the way he’d been treating you that he agreed and pulled the Nissan to a stop on the street outside of McGills. 

It had been late and all the lights were off so you’d ducked down the side alley towards the door that led up to his apartment. You’d had no idea if he’d be there but you’d prayed with every fibre of your being that he would. And by some stroke of luck, he answered the door after you’d knocked twice. 

“Rose,” he folded his arms across his chest and leant against the door jamb. “Or should I say, Y/N.” 

“I heard Luke spoke to you.” You gnawed on your lip as Jesse regarded you like the stranger you were. 

“He did. I have to say, I did not expect you to be FBI.” 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “It’s a long story. I just wanted to come by and apologise for everything. I probably really shouldn’t have let myself follow you out of the Nickel that night.” 

“I’m glad you did.” He nodded, dropping his arms to his sides. “Even though it didn’t work out between us, it at the very least got me out of my slump. Maybe now I can actually put myself out there again, you know? Now I’ve gotten over that first hurdle.” 

“You’re going to make some woman very happy someday.” You smiled, subconsciously taking a step closer. 

“It’s a shame it couldn’t have been you.” He shrugged wistfully. 

You swallowed thickly, glancing down the alley and noting that you couldn’t see the Nissan from this position, or more importantly, its occupant couldn’t see you. You stepped even closer to Jesse and cupped his cheek. 

“In another life maybe.” You whispered. “I’m leaving town.” 

“I figured as much.” He nodded as your hand wandered down from his face to bicep. “You could stay, you know? With me. You don’t have to go just because he wants you to.” 

“You have no idea how tempting that is. But I can’t.” 

“I know.” He sighed, suddenly gripping the back of your neck. “I’m going to miss you.” 

Suddenly he’d slammed his lips against yours in a kiss so passionate your legs had buckled. If Spencer knew how you’d said goodbye to Jesse, he most likely would have gone back and killed him. If he’d known you’d let Jesse finger you in his doorway while you jerked him off in return, Spencer would have certainly murdered him and probably enjoyed it. 

But clearly you had a better poker face than you realised as Spencer simply drove off as soon as you were back in the car. And on the drive the only thing you’d thought of were Jess’s last words to you. 

“I wish I’d gotten a chance to love you, Y/N.” 

But at some point you had to let that go. 

Mary’s final resting place had been a hole in the ground in the Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest in Montana, almost eight hundred miles north of her hometown of Crested Butte. The Nissan met the same fate as Spencer’s Volvo a further five hundred and fifty miles east just outside of Medora, North Dakota. 

Spencer purchased three pairs of bus tickets: one down to Texas, one out to Minnesota and one to Iowa, the latter being the ones you actually used. It took the better part of an entire day on a sweaty, smelly bus before you arrived in Cedar Rapids.

You checked into a cheap and dirty motel under the names of Jack and Lily Waters and spent almost the entire night having sex. Thoroughly exhausted in the morning, Spencer found a used car lot and using his Arizona licence in the name Samuel Truman, paid cash for a black Chevy Impala. 

For the six weeks that followed you travelled up and down the country in much of a zigzag, alternating between your two pseudonyms, back and forth so the BAU would never find you. You spent six weeks in multiple different cheap motels, fucking like rabbits every step of the way. 

You’d never felt so intrinsically linked to someone the way you did to Spencer in those six weeks. And it seemed he’d finally found his bliss as he didn’t kill once. 

Eventually when enough time passed you’d choose to settle down in California. But unfortunately the mundane realities of life would ultimately be your downfall. 

You stood up from the bathroom floor with a groan, wiping the back of your hand over your mouth and padding over to the sink. You stuck your mouth directly under the faucet and drank from it to wash away the taste of bile on your tongue. 

You’d been throwing up on and off for some weeks now but you simply put it down to the residual stress of being on the run. You exhaled heavily before shuffling back out into the bedroom where Spencer still lay naked on top of the sheets. 

“I’m mildly offended.” He offered you a wistful smile. 

“I’m sorry.” You grumbled, flopping back to the bed next to him. 

“It’s ok. Just never had anyone need to throw up whilst sucking my dick before.” He chuckled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

“It’ll teach me not to eat hotdogs from a gas-and-go.” You sighed. “I can try again if you’re still in the mood?”

“After I just listened to you puke your guts up? I’m suddenly not very horny.” He pulled you closer so your head was resting on his chest. “But seriously, are you ok? You’ve been getting sick a lot lately.” 

“Yeah I guess it’s stress or something. I’ll be fine.” You nuzzled against him, placing your hand flush against his chest over his heart. 

You smiled as the ring caught the light and found yourself moving impossibly closer to Spencer. His grandmother's old ring had been upgraded, as had the one he wore, for newer silver matching bands inscribed on the inside with partners in crime. 

One of your stops on your travels before you’d made your way to Twentynine Palms had been in Atlantic City at a seedy motel just off the main strip. After a few drinks one night as you walked by a little drive-in chapel, Spencer had a proposition for. 

“What would you say I said we should get married?” He pulled you to a stop on the sidewalk. 

“Married?” You glared at him. 

“Right now. Partners in crime forever.” He grinned at you. 

“You’re joking, right?” Your brows furrowed. 

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Before we get swallowed up entirely in the lives of Samuel and Violet, I think Spencer and Y/N need to do this one last thing.” 

And really there had only been one answer to that. You and Spencer had been bound for life the moment you’d left DC with him, you were as good as married, so why not make it official? 

If your old team were to ever find one last trace of Spencer Reid and Y/N Y/L/N it would be the signing of marriage licences in a little Atlantic City chapel. 

Spencer purchased you the new rings as a surprise and that along with your rose gold heart necklace, were your most treasured possessions. 

“You don’t need to be stressed, sweetheart. It’s over, we’re safe now. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.” He cooed, kissing your head. 

It really was amazing the difference a few months could make. Of course things weren’t ideal, you’d always be on the run, never able to return home but things with Spencer were as close to perfect as they could possibly be. 

Since fleeing Butte he’d been wonderful, the Spencer you’d known was still in there somewhere. You may be on the run but as long as this was the Spencer you woke up to every morning, you didn’t mind at all. 

But Spencer was wrong, things were far from over. At least you’d always have these moments to look back when everything came crumbling down. But for now, despite the stress within you, you knew Spencer was all you needed to feel whole. You and Spencer were two broken halves but maybe together you could patch each other up and finally feel complete. 

***

Two days after Luke Alvez arrived back from Crested Butte he received a phone call from the diner owner's son. 

Jesse McGill had informed him of the mysterious disappearance of the girl Mary, whom Luke had met at the diner, which was followed in quick succession by you and Spencer’s sudden departure from the town. 

It really didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. But unfortunately for Luke it did take a genius to pull it off and Spencer was sure to leave behind no trail, no scrap of evidence. And two months later and Mary still hadn’t been found and the BAU had no leads on you and Spencer’s whereabouts. You’d well and truly outsmarted them. 

In his spare time, which was very few and far between these days, he poured over the Duncan Green case file as well as images of the sparkling clean cabin you’d left behind in Butte in the hopes that maybe he’d missed something. He stayed late in the office every single night and looked for any reports of sightings of you and Spencer as Emily had officially registered you as missing persons. He scrolled through police databases for any other occurrences that might point to where the hell you were. 

He’d discovered two bodies buried in woodlands across the country which were similar in MO to Green but with no pertinent links between them, the BAU couldn’t investigate. 

Lyle Smith was found in a shallow grave with his throat cut in the Hoosier National Forest just north of Jasper, Indiana. The body of Brett Carlisle from Wichita, Kansas was found in the Rita Blanca National Grasslands in Texas. Both bodies had been subject to the elements but deemed to have been dead since before that little Nissan was picked up on Elk Avenue for the first time. So maybe Spencer had been on some kind spree since he’d left DC.

And that brought him onto the discovery of the burnt out Nissan, near identical to how they’d found Spencer’s Volvo. They’d spent three days searching the area surrounding where the vehicle was found for Mary’s body only to come up short. Of course, Spencer wasn’t stupid, he wouldn’t dispose of a body anywhere near the car. 

The only lead Luke had really had in the last two months was the filing of a marriage licence in the state of New Jersey. It was like a big middle finger in his face, clearly you’d both wanted him to find it. He’d driven to Atlantic City on one of his rare days off and canvassed the area near the wedding chapels, showing your photographs to anyone who would look. But he knew you’d be long gone. 

If he could just find a way to connect any of these crimes to Spencer, or to find Mary’s body then maybe he could convince you to come home. He was sure you had nothing to do with any of this and if had solid proof that Spencer had murdered one of these people maybe it could be his way to form a wedge between the two of you. No matter what happened, Luke would never stop trying to protect you. 

But god if it wasn’t taking its toll on him.

Luke Alvez was, in no uncertain terms, coming apart at the seams. The stitching holding him together had been removed thread by thread and at this point there was barely anything holding him together. Emily had expressed her concerns for his mental health, suggesting he seek medical help for what she had dubbed a depressive spiral. 

His response had been simply, “you’d be depressed too if your best friend had married a murderer” which had pretty much shut down the conversation. 

He knew he was devolving, he’d seen it hundred of times before. His apartment was a mess of case files, innocuous accounts of possible sightings and potential victims of Spencer. He barely slept, running mostly on coffee and energy bars. He was almost certain he was getting an ulcer. 

But he wouldn’t let this go. He couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t safe and he couldn’t rest until he knew you were. Maybe this obsession would eventually kill him, but it would be worth it to be able to free you from the clutches of Spencer Reid. 

***

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You scurried back to the car with your best apologetic smile as you slid into the passenger’s seat and Spencer pulled a face. 

“Did you puke again?” He frowned at you. 

“No.” You shook your head. 

“You were peeing again? You went when we got here.” He started the engine. 

You weren’t exactly sure where you were headed, Spencer had simply told you that you were going out for the day and with nothing better to do you’d followed along. You were somewhere along the I-15 heading north about two hours away from Twentynine Palms, at a gas station. You’d only stopped long enough for Spencer to fill up the Chevy and have a coffee and you’d used the bathroom twice, which was very unlike you. 

“I know, I think I drank too much coffee this morning.” You mused, putting on your seatbelt.

“You always drink too much coffee, but that’s an entirely different conversation.” He chuckled, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the space. 

As he merged back onto the interstate you twirled your wedding band around your finger, watching the way his caught the sunlight through the windscreen and you smiled to yourself. 

“Where are we going, Spence? Not that I don’t like a spontaneous road trip but I thought we’d settled now? Driving long distances usually only equals bad things where we’re concerned.” You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth. 

Spencer removed one hand from the wheel and brought it to rest on your knee while he smiled at you softly. 

“We’re going to see my mom.” He spoke happily.

“Oh.” You nodded with a soft laugh. “Ok, good. You had me worried for a second.” 

“I told you sweetheart, you don’t need to worry about anything. Not anymore.” He gave your leg a squeeze, the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. 

His bloodlust had been sated for the past two months but now it had come back with avengence. He needed to kill and he had a particular target in mind who he was sure would satisfy his urges more so than any that had come before. 

But it was better to keep you in the dark. You were so happy lately and Spencer loved it when you were happy. He’d use visiting his mom as a distraction and he’d sneak off and extract his plan solo. You’d never need to know and your blissful little bubble didn’t need to be popped. 

It was a win-win. 

He ran over his plan in his head as he drove, making sure he had all the little details secure in his mind. There was no margin for error here, this had to be the perfect kill. 

The two of you mostly stayed silent until he’d made it about another half hour up the interstate and you huffed out a loud breath. 

“Goddamnit,” you grumbled. “I need to pee again.” 

***

Visiting Spencer’s mom had been pretty safe for the two of you given that if anyone ever asked her if you’d been here, she most likely wouldn’t remember. You spent a few hours with her upon your arrival in Vegas before Spencer took you for a three course meal at the very expensive Capital Grille on Las Vegas strip. 

After he walked you down to Caesars Palace in which you expected to be having drinks and were extremely surprised when Spencer strolled up to the reception desk stating he had a room reserved under his other alias Jack Waters. 

A bellboy led you up to one of the top floors and showed you to the Palace Premium Suite. You stood in the middle of the grand living room while Spencer tipped the young man and once the door was closed and the two of you were alone, he sidled up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“You like it?” He spoke as he kissed the side of your face. 

“Wh-what is happening?” You laughed, still in awe. “What did I do to deserve this?” 

“Consider it a belated, one night honeymoon.” His lips trailed down your neck. “And I guess just a small token of my gratitude for everything you’ve done for me. I know I have a hard time saying how I feel but I love you so fucking much and I am the luckiest man in the world to call you my wife.” 

“Spencer,” you sighed happily in your arms. “I love you too. And I’m the lucky one.” 

“Ok, now we’ve got that out of the way, tell me Mrs Reid, where would you like me to fuck you first?”

You moaned at his words, turning yourself around in his arms and attaching your lips together. 

“What are my options?” You spoke against his lips, feeling his dick growing hard as he pressed into you. 

“Well there are multiple couches, a four poster king sized bed, a pretty decadent bathtub, or there’s my personal favourite option…” his hands wandered under the hem of your shirt and over your back. 

“Which is?” You took hold of his lapels, tearing your lips away from his so you could look at him.

His pupils were already blown out with his lust, his lip quirked up into a sinful smirk. 

“We’re way up high, with some of the best views of Vegas.” He tugged your shirt up, quickly getting it over your head and tossing it aside. He took hold of your biceps and turned you back around to face the huge floor to ceiling windows overlooking the strip, his lips moving back to your ear. “My choice would be to fuck you up against the window. But that’s just me.” 

He was already leading you towards the windows, lips sucking the flesh of your neck, his free reaching between your bodies and unhooking your bra. He quickly got it off your arms and dropped it on the floor, and you made no protest when he pushed your front up against the window. You hissed slightly at the cool glass as it touched your nipples and Spencer smiled to himself. 

It was all a part of his plan. He would render you dumb with sex then run you an indulgent bubble bath with a large glass of wine to soothe your post-coital muscles. Then he’d tell you he’d left something at his mother's facility which was purposefully on the other side of town to buy him some time. 

He’d tell you he hopefully wouldn’t be gone long, but traffic on the strip at night could be a nightmare and he’d be back as soon as possible. He’d inform you of the bar and the spa downstairs if you wanted to use either while he was gone. 

And while you were preoccupied having a drink or getting a massage or whatever, he would seek out his target, slice his throat and be back before you knew it, with any luck rejuvenated enough for round two. 

He continued kissing your neck while he started unbuttoning your pants and you helped him wiggle them down your legs and kick them off. You could see Spencer in the reflection in the window start to work on the buttons of his shirt. You caught his eye and he smiled at you. 

He shucked his shirt off and pressed his bare chest against your back, caging you against the window with his hips, his hard cock pressing into your back. His lips moved back to your neck and worked on sucking deep bruises into your flesh whilst one hand wandered over your stomach and quickly dipped inside your panties. 

You closed your eyes as two fingers were soon pressing inside of you, his thumb massaging your clit. You rolled your ass backwards, grinding against his erection but you wobbled a little on your legs at the feeling of his fingers inside you. 

With your eyes closed your mind wandered of its own accord. There were times when you and Spencer were together that you found yourself thinking of Jesse, most specifically the last time you’d seen him when he’d fingered you in his doorway. 

It was entirely involuntary, you certainly didn’t mean to think about him and his strong tattooed arms and the large vein in his forearm that pulsed when his fingers were inside of you. You didn’t mean to imagine his wiry beard scratching your face as he kissed you. And you most definitely didn’t mean to picture him fucking you whilst Spencer was. Sometimes it just happened. 

Spencer was by no means an idiot and he knew you still thought about GI Mountain Man. He knew exactly what you looked like post orgasm and he’d known what the two of you had been doing when you’d said goodbye to him, even if you’d tried hard to hide it. There had been three, maybe four times when you’d said his name under your breath when he was fucking you but you’d never seemed to notice. 

Of course it bothered him, a part of him wanted to drive back to Butte and kill Jesse just to make himself feel better. But he was trying to be better for you and so he ignored the occasional slip of the tongue. 

Your hand snaked around his wrist, holding him firmly in place in your panties. He knew you were thinking about Jesse now, call it intuition, or gut instinct, but whatever it was Spencer knew. 

He used his free hand to relieve himself from his pants and move them down his thighs enough so they were out of his way. He was almost positive that Jesse wasn’t as big as him, couldn’t fill you up the way he could.

In one swift move, he removed his fingers from inside of you and hurriedly plunged his cock between your legs, causing you to gasp and fall flat against the window. Your eyes sprung open at the sudden intrusion and you made eye contact with him in the reflection.

“Jesus Christ, Spence.” You panted as he bottomed out. “A little warning next to him.” 

He chose to ignore you, placing his hands flush on the glass either side of your head as he started thrusting into you. He kept eye contact through the glass, not letting you close your eyes for fear you would start thinking of Jesse again. 

It’s not fair. I’ve done everything for her, I fucking married her and it’s still not enough. What makes him better than me? Why is he still on her mind? 

He tried not to let his anger cloud his judgement and had to rein himself back from fucking you too hard. He forced himself to slow down, thrusting you languidly against the window. You moaned in sync with one another while the Strip below illuminated you both in its chaotic glow. 

You kept your eyes on his in the reflection while he fucked you and all thoughts of Jesse left your head. When you were clenching around him, legs shaking from your impending orgasm, he took hold of your left hand and ran his fingers over your wedding band. 

“You’re mine.” He mumbled, his face contorting as his own orgasm snuck up on him. “Mine. My partner in crime, my wife, my…fuck.” 

He groaned the last word, head falling to your shoulder as he suddenly came inside of you. You whimpered as he filled you up, pushing you over the edge and your legs almost gave up with the force of your orgasm. 

You fell back against Spencer’s chest, his arms holding you up right even though his own legs were shaking. As you fought to catch your breath he peeled you away from the window as he slid out of you and helped you over to the couch. 

You collapsed onto it, panting heavily and pulling Spencer down with you. He laid his head on your chest and listened to the sound of your erratic heartbeat. 

You laid like this for a while until you were both breathing at a normal rhythm and Spencer untangled himself from your arms and got to his feet. He tucked himself away and tugged his pants back up before buttoning them. 

“I’m gonna run you a bubble bath.” He smiled softly down at you. 

“You gonna join me in it?” You smiled back sleepily. 

“Sadly not, I realised I left my wallet at Bennington.” He went to head towards the bathroom but he didn’t get far. 

“You had your wallet at dinner.” You sat up, frowning at the back of his head. 

Spencer froze in his tracks. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. 

“Uh,” he turned back to face you, quickly trying to think on his feet, which would be a lot easier if his head wasn’t still hazy from his orgasm. “Not my wallet, I meant the burner phone. I should go and get it.” 

You scrutinised him for a moment but thankfully for him your own head was also bleary and wouldn’t allow you to think too much into it. 

“Ok.” You shrugged, flopping back to the couch. 

Spencer exhaled heavily, continuing on his way to the bathroom. He started the water, pouring in an ample amount of bubble bath and leaving the tub to fill. 

“There’s a bar downstairs and a spa, even a casino. If you get bored with the bath and I’m not back, go nuts.” He spoke as headed back into the room, locating the bottle of red wine he’d had sent to the room before you arrived. 

He made quick work of the cork and poured you a large glass before coming back over to the couch and dropping down next to you. He handed you the glass and you sat yourself up against the cushions again. 

“Hmm I like honeymoons.” You smiled, bringing your glass to your lips and taking a small sip. 

Moments later your face fell and you gagged, thrusting the glass back at Spencer before leaping from the couch and running as fast as your legs could carry you to the bathroom. 

Spencer heard the toilet seat slam back against the cistern and then the distinctive sound of vomiting echoed around the room.

Realistically he was smart enough to figure out what was going on, as were you, but both of your heads were clouded by other thoughts and so you both missed the obvious. 

Spencer padded back to the bathroom and found you on your knees, wiping your hand over your mouth. You looked up at him with large, sad eyes. 

“The wine turned against me.” You whined. “Goddamn gas-and-go hotdogs.” 

Spencer smiled sadly at you and slid to the floor next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as the bath continued to fill behind him. 

“Are you going to be ok if I pop out?” Please god say yes, I need this, it has to be tonight. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s passed again now, I guess I just won’t be drinking any wine tonight.” You sighed. “You go, do your thing.” 

“As long as you’re sure.” Spencer pushed himself back to his feet and then held his hands out to help you up. 

“Of course. Do you think you’ll be gone for long?” 

“No idea, traffic at this time of night will probably be a pain, but I promise I’ll hurry.” He stroked your hair back from your face. 

“Ok.” You nodded, lowering yourself to sit on the edge of the tub. “Go, I’m fine. I can run a bath.” 

“I won’t be long.” He went to kiss you but then thought better of it as your breath smelt like vomit. Instead he kissed his first and middle finger and then placed them on your lips making you chuckle. 

Soon he was heading out of the room in search of his bag so he could change into jeans and t-shirt. The weapons were in the Chevvy’s glovebox, ready for their next assignment. 

He dressed quickly and got his shoes on, throwing on a hoodie before grabbing the car keys and heading to the door. 

“Be safe, sweetheart.” He called as he reached for the handle. 

“Love you.” You replied and it made his heart swell every time he heard you say that. 

As he opened the door, his wedding ring caught his eye and he rolled his lip between his teeth. He forced open the door, ignoring the way his heart practically exploded when he looked at his ring. He had a job to focus on. 

But the truth was, you were the only thing keeping him together. He was lost and you’d found him, taken him in and patched him up. His scars both mental and physical didn’t phase you, if anything you’d loved him harder because of them. You’d fixed him up in ways you’d never understand and he hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake in what he was about to do. 

He was fairly certain you’d never walk away from him, that nothing he could do could be worse than the things he’d already put you through. Because he was sure one day all that thread keeping him together would come unravelled and if he had no one there to stitch him back up again he would be torn so deeply there would be no repairing him. And god only knows how quickly a broken man would devolve.

No, it's no wonder I feel broken,

Are you the one to fix me up, patching up the work they done?

Try and sew me,

So thread the needle, tie it off, teach me how to trust someone.

Really hoping that you stay,

That you never walk away,

Every word I shouldn't say, I shouldn't say, I shouldn't say it.

Do you feel the stress in me,

Steady bursting at the seams?

You're the only one I need to make me complete, yeah.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, don't tear me apart,

I've been stuck in the rut, patched up in the dark.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart, oh,

Pardon all my precious scars.

No, it's no wonder you've been feeling,

Like a doll in lost and found, so mistreated, thrown around.

Who you kidding? (You kidding),

Every flaw and every fray, that's what makes you sexy to me.

Really hoping that I stay,

I could never walk away,

Every word we shouldn't say, we shouldn't say, we shouldn't say it.

Do you feel the stress in me,

Steady bursting at the seams?

You're the only one I need to make me complete, yeah.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, don't tear me apart,

I've been stuck in the rut, patched up in the dark.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart, oh,

Pardon all my precious scars.

Elegant and broken, tasteful, tattered clothing,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Motive through emotion, damaged but we're golden,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Elegant and broken, tasteful, tattered clothing,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Motive through emotion, damaged but we're golden,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, don't tear me apart,

I've been stuck in the rut, patched up in the dark.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart, oh,

Pardon all my precious scars.

Really hoping that you stay,

Pray you never walk away,

Pardon all my precious scars.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart,

Oh, pardon all my precious scars.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom @nomajdetective