#not watched any of them but I at least recognised them

[heavenlyraindrops]

The Devil Made Me Do It | Arcane | Silco x Reader | Chapter Ten

available on AO3 and Quotev | visit the first tag for other chapters | warnings: very brief mention of blood, profanity, smoking

summary:

In the midst of an unfortunate run-in with the enforcers, you meet the young revolutionary Silco, and by extension, his friends Vander and Felicia. Growing close friends, you get through life in the undercity together, determined to make Zaun a better place. Until tragedy strikes, and betrayal and carelessness stabs hard enough to turn you bitter. Years later as time solidifies the scars, Silco proves to be a thorn in your side. You, in his. Hatred festers. And your world cracks further open.

Chapter Ten:

You tugged your black top, which had ridden up your midriff, back down towards your belt as you stormed into the Last Drop, shoving patrons as you passed through the crowd. Sevika was at a table, ashtray half-full and glass half empty.

Scowling, you grabbed her arm, the one concealed by her cloak. Your hand made contact with metal through the fabric.

She stared at you. “[name],” she said flatly. You snatched your hand away, balling it into a fist. 

“Tell me-“ you stabbed a finger at her chest, “there’s been men at my doorstep at least three times this week.”

She scoffed. “Probably because you run a brothel.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you hissed. She stared at you, a frown carving a notch into her forehead, before nodding at her tablemates. Slamming her palms onto the surface a little too hard she slowly heaved herself up.

“Let’s talk somewhere else,” she said.

You watched as she went to a corner, nodding at a door. You stared at her incredulously.

“Go in there with you?” You yelled over the din. “You must be insane.”

She groaned, and within moments you were both standing outside.

“You look real different, dressed like a normal person.” She nodded at your toned-down appearance. You scowled, flicking a hair out of your face. “Almost didn’t recognise you.”

“Whatever.” You took out a cigarette, rolling it between your fingers between placing it in between your lips. You’d dropped any efforts to keep up your beguiling, siren-like facade around Sevika- there was no point. You flicked open your lighter, palm shielding the flame.

“So what’s all this about men outside the brothel?”

“They’ve been heckling my girls. And guys,” you added. “I assumed they had something to do with your- boss, considering the fact I have something he wants.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say his name, now that someone was actually listening.

Sevika must have taken notice of this, because her lips twitched. But she didn’t mention it. “You know, you look a lot like when we were younger. Before everything went to shit.”

“Did he send them?” Your voice was stone cold and hard. Sevika scowled at this.

“Of course he fucking didn’t. You think he’d stoop that low? I thought you knew him.”

You took a deep drag on your cigarette, not meeting her eyes as you exhaled. Your leg threatened to bounce with well-concealed anxiety. “Well, I don’t now. I want these bastards dealt with.”

Sevika crossed her arms. “Since when do I have to deal with your problems? Last I checked, it’s not you I’m working for.”

You scowled. “Well, something’s telling me that this is gonna be your problem soon enough,” you snapped. “Considering the fact that they’re looking for your boss.”

She paused. “Wait, what?”

“They keep bugging us about him. No idea why us,” you sneered, “because I’d rather shoot myself in the foot than be associated with you or his people, but sadly that’s the case. So hurry up and fix this before I send them your way for good.” You pushed the cigarette into her chest. “Enjoy, errand-girl.”

And with that you turned around and stalked off, pulling your coat around you as your brisk steps carried you away from the Last Drop. Breath misting in the air, you turned to look at Sevika. But all you saw was the door swinging shut as she disappeared back into the bar. 

-

You hurried back into the brothel, a gust of warm air enveloping you in a snug, cozy embrace. Immediately the feeling was quenched as you turned and saw a girl with big glassy eyes and mousy brown hair looking up at you, arms outstretched.

You gingerly shrugged off your coat and dumped it in her hands. She followed you to your office, hovering anxiously around the beaded curtains.

“What is it?” You sounded miffed.

“Your coat, Madam. I was instructed to leave it in your office.”

“Then why’d you make me take it off?” 

But nonetheless, you beckoned for her to come in. She placed it on a hook in the corner, and you curled your finger, calling her forwards. A cigarette dangling from your bottom lip, you placed something in her soft palm.

She unfurled her fingers. “Do you know what that is?” She shook her head.

You took it back from her, flicked it open, and pushed down. Flame erupted from the lighter, illuminating a freckle on her face. Her eyes widened and she shuffled back.

“Don’t be afraid,” you said, snapping it shut. You gently but firmly took hold of her wrist, tugging it forward and pushing it back into her hand. You leaned back, arm slung across the back of the couch, and gestured to your cigarette.

She leaned over the armrest and, with a trembling thumb, pushed down as you’d shown her. The flame jumped a little too close to your face and you moved your head back, eyes widening, as she hurriedly snapped it shut.

She froze, waiting for a reprimand. But you didn’t say anything, just sucked on the cigarette and smiled at her, eyes looking at her without turning your face. You tipped your head back and let the smoke curl in the air.

“Hand-eye coordination needs some work,” you commented. She nodded.

“Yes, Madam.”

“What’s your name?”

“Alice-“

Your eyes widened, chest tightening.

“-son.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Allison,” she repeated timidly. You were shaking, she noticed, and took a quick step back.

Chewing on your lip, your eyes crawled across her face desperately. She looked…

Scared.

You could taste blood on your tongue. You released your bloodied lip from between your teeth, then soothed it with your tongue.

This girl is not Alice, you reminded yourself. 

“You look tired,” you remarked, relaxing. “Have you been getting a good night’s sleep?”

“No,” she admitted silently. You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “The mattresses are hard,” she said regretfully. “Not that I’m complaining, Madam,” she added hastily.

You chuckled. “No, please. Feel free to complain.”

She couldn’t tell if you were being sarcastic or not, as you patted the spot on the couch next to you. She clambered onto the cushions obediently.

You took another thoughtful drag, then blew out the smoke, cigarette poised in between your fingers as you leaned into Allison.

“Will I tell you something important?”

She nodded, eyes wide.

“I used to have a daughter just like you.” You looked the girl up and down. “Same age, same eyes, same hair. Almost the same name.”

Allison knotted her little fingers together in her lap, looking up at you in wonder as you smoked some more.

“But she died.” Your tone was flat. 

Allison recoiled. “Killed by enforcers,” you continued. You looked at the little girl, silently staring at her.

Then you sighed.

“You can sleep on the couch tonight, if you want. A welcome change from the mattresses.” You leaned forward and stubbed out the cigarette on the ashtray that lay on the table, next to the long-wilted rose, and rubbed the bridge of your nose. “I’d have them changed if they weren’t the best we could afford in Zaun. Piltie bastards are probably sleeping well into the afternoon.”

She didn’t say anything.

“My bedroom is that door,” you told her, pointing to a door next to a bookshelf. “The office locks from the inside.”

“This is too generous, Madam,” Allison whispered.

You scoffed. “Not at all. You’ll have a job, you know.”

Allison looked up expectantly, and you stumbled around your words to find an excuse. “Uhh… clean up the office every now and then. And lock it once I go to bed.”

Allison smiled. “Alright.”

“And if I have anything else that needs tending to then expect the responsibility to fall to you, in the case that you’re able for such tasks.”

Allison nodded, bowing her head. “Yes, Madam.”

You flicked your hand at her. “Right, now… go away.”

Allison scuttled away into the front entrance of the brothel, cutting across and eventually disappearing into another narrow hallway. You followed after her, looking around. Beads, lanterns, curtains. Sickly sweet incense, mist swirling across the floor. A new client had just passed in through the doorway. She was looking behind herself nervously as she hurried in.

You silently watched her from the spot in the corner you’d chosen to lean on, obscured by the sheer fabric draped across the ceiling. She disappeared hand in hand with one of your men, and a tall, broad figure stepped into view.

Sevika.

You brushed the sheer drapes as you emerged, mist coiling around your feet as you walked.

“I thought we already spoke today,” you said steadily, expression even as you studied her face.

“What if I came here for your services?” She sounded amused.

“You don’t look like it. Hurry up, tell me what it is.”

Sevika squared her shoulders, gaze roving around the all-took familiar room. It eventually settled back on your face.

“He wants a meeting with you.”

“What?”

“You deaf?” She tilted her head. “He wants to meet with you in his office. Tomorrow night.”

“No.” Your response was fast.

You couldn’t face him. You’d rather never speak to him face to face again- your last in-person interaction, despite years ago, had been quite fond and you knew that whatever version of him you’d meet if you went would simply take on the image of the man you used to know.

Sevika frowned at you. “Are you okay?”

You were breathing hard. “No, I’m not. Get out.”

She stepped towards you. “[name].”

“What’s it about?” You hissed. “I’ll talk to you. Come on.” You stepped towards your office.

For a moment, you thought Sevika would protest, but she simply followed you silently after a quick moment of hesitation. You shut the door properly.

“Sit down.”

“I think I’ll stand.” There was a glint in her eye you didn’t miss.

“It wasn’t a request.”

Sighing and rolling her shoulders back, she assumed her usual position on the couch.

You didn’t sit down, choosing to remain standing. You crossed your arms, leg shaking. “What’s the issue?”

“It’s the men. They’re here for, er, other people.”

“What?” She couldn’t be any less clear- your pounding head was beginning to grow fuzzy. 

“You’re harbouring more wanted men and women than you think, or than you’d like to admit. We need to round them up, and finish them off,” she said steadily. You frowned at her.

“I’m not giving up innocent people,” you spat.

“Believe me, [name],” her voice was strained with exasperation. “They are far from innocent. Just hand them over, and this whole ordeal can be over. No more men at your door, no more Silco breathing down your neck.”

You took a deep breath, rubbing your face, considering her words.

“And I have your word that whatever happens to them next will be deserved, be it good or bad?” You asked quietly.

She was surprisingly solemn in her response. “You have my word.”

“Fine. I’ll round them up, and drop them off tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow night, the Last Drop. Ten o’clock.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, whatever you say. But-“ you held up your hand. “I want a trade.”

She stared at you. “What?”

You scowled. “You think I’ll just give away my men for free? I want something in return.”

She suppressed a groan. “And what might that be? Money? Shimmer?”

You bit your lip, thinking. “I need collateral.”

She stared at you blankly. “Well, we don’t have collateral.”

“Something I can hold over his head,” you ploughed on. She laughed. 

“You know I’m right here, right? It’s my boss you’re scheming against.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck. Whatever, just- give me men in return.” 

“Wh- men?”

“Employee for employee.” You’d fully regained your composure by now, and you adjusted the cuffs of your sleeves. “It’s only fair.”

She stared at you incredulously. “Well, who would you want?”

“I’ll take my pick when the time comes,” you hummed, waving her out. She scowled, flinging the door open. Hand still on the doorknob, she paused, twisting her head around.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” She snarled.

You grinned. “So I’ve been told.”

[who-is-there]

I just started watching Dimension 20’s Fantasy high, halfway through sophomore year, and I do want a fic where people realise just how used to being part of a group the bad kids are. For example-

-I fully believe every single one of them is used to Riz climbing them so he can see better. It’s usually Gorgug, but it’s happened to all of them at some point. They might hold out their arm for him to jump onto a counter, or so he can pin a clue to his board. Before they all sit at a table, at least one of them makes sure their 4’4 friend can jump onto the table.

-Every single one of them has also caught Adaine after she had a vision. Sometimes she can just shake them off, but the big ones make her falter in what she’s doing, which can be dangerous. It happened once in a fight, and now the people standing closest to her are always ready.

-Fabian doesn’t really recognise he has a blind spot with his eye injury, because the others immediately clocked it. But this also means they walk in between him and the road, in case some idiot mounts the curb. They keep an eye on anything to his right, shifting drinks and pushing chairs if they can tell his depth perception is a little off.

-Fig usually stands in the middle of the group to intimidate people into not messing with them, so it’s sort of become habit to just crowd around her. After the battle, if no one’s seriously hurt or anything, everyone just wanders over to Fig. At this point, Fig is always the first one to yell out after a fight, just so they can regroup.

-Gorgug is the go-to for lap-sits, leaning, anything to do with being physically supported by another persons body. His hoodie is soft, and his headphones are loud enough that you can kind of hear it if you’re leaning on him. His parents weren’t great with nonchalant physical contact, in case he was already upset, so he takes great joy in his friends not being scared to hug him for fun.

-Kristin has left her staff at every single house she could with the bad kids. She leaves her bag in classrooms, the library, the cafeteria. Whenever the group leave somewhere, they do a full scan, because Kristin has probably left something and they grab it for her. No one has any clue who her bag actually belongs to, because all of the bad kids have been seen carrying it around school several times.

The school at large know who the bad kids are, and the town recognise them, but they still don’t know why all of them double check a room before leaving, or collectively carry a small stool around with them. One student with a fantasy iron deficiency faints in class and Kristin catches her before she hits the ground. Once, Fig isn’t in school for a day and all the bad kids have this restless energy about them. It is not uncommon to see them on the field during lunch, curled up in a pile on Gorgug. One guy tries to surprise Fabian from the right and gets body checked by Adaine before it even registers.

It’s sort of uncomfortable for everyone to see any of them without the others, because it means a) the rest of them committed a crime, b) the rest of them are committing a crime, or c) the rest of them are about to run in and start planning to commit a crime. And no one wants to lose their plausible deniability here.

[i2sunric]

𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 (l.hs)

PAIRING: toxic!heeseung x reader

SUMMARY: after confronting your boyfriend with his neverending addictions, worried that he might just ruin himself, you two end up in yet another fight. it wasn’t new that the best way of resolving it was fucking you in his car, was it?

WARNINGS: toxic relationship. based on the newest single by chase atlantic ‘die for me’, fighting, alcohol consumption, mentions of weed and drugs in general (+ ecstasy tabs), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!!), rough sex, degrading kink, car sex, doggystyle, he gives reader a finger in asshole (literally), spit kink (?), why is this slightly angst (if u squint ig), riding, creampie, pet names (angel, baby, good girl, slut), manhandling, meandom!heeseung, kinda cnc (but i’m not sure), humping, overstimulation, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 25th August 2024

WC: 4.7k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @destinyhoon @jakeflvrz @emisloves @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike (oneshot) @dollyrst @mitmit01 @heeseungsbm @rayofsunshineeee @seungjiseyo @simja3 @sweetlyxaqq09 @cloud-lyy BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED.

NOW PLAYING: ‘DIE FOR ME’ by Chase Atlantic — ‘on your knees’ by ex habit — ‘Sinners’ by Ari Abdul ft. Thomas Larosa

a/n: please REBLOG & COMMENT and not only like since i’ve been shadowbanned nowadays. i highly recommend listening to the songs i previously listed while reading for a better experience 🫶 take care!!

With your heart in your throat and your whole body freezing due to autumn’s weather, you hurried towards Jay’s house, which was fortunately a few blocks away from yours.

You had gotten yet another call from the poor guy, asking you to come and fetch your boyfriend, who was apparently making a fuss.

It wasn’t rare, but it had gotten more frequent for him to go batshit at parties.

And it was your job to clean after his mess.

The music that came inside was so loud it only added to the headache you already had.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and found Jay waiting for you, biting his nails.

“Thank God you’re here.” He breathed out, quickly turning around “He’s gone mad, I swear.”

You had to just round the corner to the living room and there stood Heeseung, taking a guy by the collar, his fit raised in the air.

“Heeseung!” You shouted, but he was so deep in his own mind he couldn’t hear you.

“What the fuck did call me?” Heeseung growled, his mouth straight into a grimace.

The boy’s eyes were wide, as if he understood he had just poked the bear and couldn’t step back anymore “I’m sorry man, ok? I was just joking.”

Heeseung scoffed, “Oh, and I am joking too.” He raised his fist higher and was about to strike, but you stepped in and held his arm.

“Heeseung.” You hissed, lower this time, a whisper only meant for him.

He turned to you with an annoyed expression until his eyes took in the sight of you, recognising you.

Safe. He knew you, so he slowly lowered his arm.

“Let go.” You said, beckoning to the guy’s collar. Heeseung gave him another dangerous gaze before pushing him away.

He fell, but at least he didn’t have a broken nose.

Heeseung turned around and placed his hand on your waist “Did I hurt you?” He asked and by his bloodshot eyes and how you could barely see any white in them, you knew he was far gone.

You shook your head, “I just arrived.” Heeseung took in the sight of your baggy and cozy clothes.

Obviously, you had hurried there as soon as Jay made the call, not even bothering changing.

All the people in the living room were watching the two of you with both curious and wary expressions, “Let’s get in the car.” You said, Heeseung wasn’t their circus.

Mouthing a quick ‘sorry’ to the guy who almost had an encounter with his fist, you dragged your boyfriend out of the house.

Jay gave you a sympathetic nod before closing the house behind you, blocking out the deafening music.

Heeseung grabbed your hand and walked to the parking lot, opening the car door and shoving you in the passenger seat before rounding it and entering the vehicle as well.

The walk and fresh air should’ve sobered him up, at least just a little. You hoped.

As soon as he sat beside you, a scoff left your lips “Seriously, Heeseung?” You asked, “It’s the third time this week and it’s barely Thursday!”

He let out a low sigh, and reached out to caress your cheek. He had a sheepish look, and he was staring at you guiltily, though, you were sure he doubtfully had any regret.

“Just once more,” He said quietly. “And I'll control myself after this.” Both of you knew that it was just another empty promise.

“Like last time, and the time before that.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms “I don’t buy your bullshit, not anymore.”

His jaw tensed as he tried to remain patient. He knew you had every right to be mad at him, but could he blame him for wanting an escape?

“I’ll behave for a week, okay?” He asked, his leg bouncing, unable to stay still “Just give me this one last time.”

You frowned, noticing his strange behaviour “What did you take?”

Heeseung was caught off guard by the sudden question, and averted his gaze away from you, “It's just alcohol,” He replied, a slight edge in his tone “Quit fussing. We’re just going for a drive and letting off some steam.”

“You’re not driving,” You replied, your eyes widen “You’re as high as a kite, you think I don’t know that?”

Annoyance was now brewing in his gaze, and he clenched his jaw.

He wanted to snap at you for not trusting him, but a rational part of him knew deep down that he didn’t deserve your trust.

He hated that you knew him so well.

“I’m fine,” He insisted, stubbornly, taking out the car keys from the front pocket of his jeans. “I've driven drunk a hundred times. this is nothing.”

“That’s not something to be proud of,” You replied, stealing the keys from his hand. His reflexes were sloppy, so he couldn’t stop you in time. “One day you’ll either kill or get yourself killed.”

“Give it back.” He demanded, his voice low “I’ll take us to your house, we can’t stay here all night.”

“But we will if you don’t start talking.” You snapped, hiding the keys behind your back

Heeseung was taken aback by the harshness of your tone, and he was starting to get impatient as well.

“Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” He asked, his voice dropping an octave. “Just shut up and let me drive, I know what I’m doing.”

“You can’t speak without tripping over your tongue,” You questioned again, “What did you take?”

“I told you, it’s just alcohol,” He lied, his words coming out in a frustrated hiss. “Why won’t you just trust me?”

“Because you don’t give me reasons to trust you!” You spat back, your brows furrowed “What did you take?”

Heeseung was getting tired of the repetition, and the tone of your voice was starting to wear him down. He leaned in to bring his lips next to your ear.

“I just took a few ecstasy tabs, okay? And alcohol. Nothing major,” He whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “Just leave it be, alright?”

You willed your body not to show any signs of how his vicinity was affecting you “Nothing major? Heeseung, you were doing drugs.”

He leaned back and rolled his eyes, trying to brush it off “It’s just to have some fun.” He retorted “And I can make my own choices, you don’t need to be so uptight.”

“Being uptight is different from being worried!” You snapped “Getting high is not having fun. I closed an eye with the occasional weed you smoke, but this? Taking ecstasy tabs?”

Heeseung rolled his eyes as you nagged him about his life choices again. He knew that you weren’t wrong, but he hated admitting it.

He hated feeling like you were lecturing him, like he was a kid being scolded by his parents.

“Why are you so fixated on what I do?” He asked, his tone growing harsher. “I can handle myself, dammit.”

“Oh, I can see that very well.” You eyed him up and down, “You were about to attack a guy, and what for? Because he foul-mouthed you?”

He raised a brow. “He deserved it, if you didn’t come I would’ve done more than break his nose.”

The seriousness in his voice made your stomach churn. You hated to admit it, but you were scared of him sometimes.

You knew he would never lay a hand on you, deep inside he cared for you, but he didn’t care about himself at all and it served him as hatred towards others.

“Please, Heeseung.” You sighed, “Drugs aren’t something to play with. They’re dangerous.”

“A few ecstasy tabs or edibles won’t kill me, ya know?” He scoffed, running a hand in his hair.

He looked so beautiful, despite his bloodshot eyes and angry frown, he was still attractive.

“Jay called me again because you were ruining his party.” You pleaded with him to listen “Can’t you see that not even your friends want to be with you anymore?”

That worked.

Heeseung suddenly grasped your waist and pulled you onto his laps, holding you firmly in place “Enough,” He growled “I’m done listening to your lectures.”

You frowned, trying to move from his iron grip “I am not done.”

Heeseung let out a frustrated huff, and pulled you even closer, “Well, too bad,” He retorted. “You talk too much, and you nag too much, it's so annoying.”

He brought his lips close to your ear, and his voice dropped even lower. “Maybe I should just shut you up, hm?”

You didn’t like the way your body grew so weak for him, how it seemed to melt under his touch.

You needed to be strong, to let him hear your worries, so you tried to fight his grasp again.

But his grip on you was unwavering, and he didn’t even budge as you tried to push him away.

“Don’t you get it, baby?” He whispered huskily, his voice holding a hint of condescension. “I don't listen to you,

especially not when you nag.”

“I’m not doing this with you,” You said, feeling his hands on your body “I’m worried about you, Hee, we all are.”

“Enough,” He grumbled. “I don’t need your lectures.” He nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck “Why can’t you just let me be?”

His hands moved to hold your hips, forcing them to rock against his “Heeseung, stop.”

Heeseung wasn’t listening to a word you were saying, his mind clouded by the alcohol and drugs in his system.

He continued to press his face against your neck, peppering it with rough kisses, his hands began to wander to the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it up.

“Let me have this,” He murmured, his voice deep and desperate. “I need you right now.”

You closed your eyes, a soft sigh escaping your lips “No.” You tried to say firmly “You need to go home and sleep the drug off.”

Heeseung let out a frustrated whine as you tried to resist him, and he dug his fingers into your skin.

He pulled away from your neck to look at you, his gaze filled with a mixture of irritation and desire. “I need you. I need you right now.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against yours. “Baby, please,” He pleaded, his voice growing soft and gentle. “Just for a little bit, please.”

Seeing him in such a desperate state made your heart ache.

At least, he had exited the party and followed you in the car.

At least, he was there with you and not in the streets, causing messes for both himself and others.

“Okay,” You whispered, gulping down the good sense.

He pressed his forehead against yours. “I just need a little release,” He mumbled. “Just a little bit... you’ll give it to me, won’t you, baby?”

As he made you grind on him you quickly matched his rhythm, slowly moving on him.

He was growing more desperate for you, his body craving yours “That’s it,” He muttered, his voice thick with lust “Hump me just like that, baby.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his face close to your clothed chest “I’m just worried about you.” You said quietly.

Heeseung felt a flicker of guilt as you held onto him, and he reluctantly pushed it away. He didn’t want to be reminded of his mistakes.

“You worry too much,” he mumbled gruffly. “I'm fine, just stop nagging at me.”

You let out a small moan when his hips bucked up to meet yours and he said “Let me have you, baby.”

He could sense you surrender and smirked, leaning his head to suckle on your neck.

He wasn’t gentle, he left bites, brushing his tongue against it to soothe the pain.

But he wanted you to feel it, wanted you to know that pain was an occurrence if you stayed with him.

And you were too lovestruck to care, you realised.

Heeseung raised your shirt and tossed it on the passenger seat, burying his face in the middle of your breasts still contained by your bra.

He looked up at you, his gaze was clearer but darker as well, like the drug's effect was replaced by lust.

His cheeks were tinted with pink, his lips parted and you couldn’t help but grind on his clothed bulge, as if to reward him for being there.

Heeseunge closed his eyes and let out a deep moan as he felt you grinding on him, the friction sending waves of pleasure through his body.

Hee leaned his head back against the seat, his mouth slightly open as he let out a shaky exhale. “Fuck, angel,” He groaned, gripping your hips tightly, “Keep going, just like that, baby.”

Such a nickname was reserved only to you, because you were his angel, too good to be with a devil like him.

Still, you didn’t run. You never tried to.

What a fool.

His brows furrowed, only then remembering the reason behind your argument. He wanted to make you forget it, he had to.

“Angel,” He whispered, stopping you from moving, “I need to be inside of you, please.”

You bit your bottom lip and murmured, “But we don’t have a condom…”

Heeseung cursed under his breath as you reminded him about the lack of protection, his frustration growing once again.

He didn’t want to be denied, and the last thing he wanted right now was to stop.

He leaned forward and captured your lips in a rough, possessive kiss, his hands roaming all over your bare back. “I don’t care,” He mumbled against your lips. “I need you now, I don’t care if we have a condom or not.”

You were a weak girl, you knew that despite how much you tried to resist; you would always give in. And Heeseung was very much aware.

You stared down at him, your voice quiet as you said “I guess I could buy a pill tomorrow?”

He pulled away from the kiss with a sly grin “Good girl,” He murmured, his eyes dark and lustful “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

You hadn’t even realised he put a hand behind to pull the seat back until you were thrown in the backseats of the car, manoeuvred not so gently.

Heeseung was behind you in the matter of a second, your head was resting on the seat while your backside was in the air.

He leaned down, his body pressing against yours, and he started to plant a trail of rough kisses down your neck.

His hands roamed over your body, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer to him. “You look so sexy like this, baby,” He murmured, huskily.

You felt his bulge pressing in between your ass cheeks while his skilled fingers unclasped your bra, rough callous grasping them, kneading at the soft flesh.

Heeseung pulled your pants down, without even bothering to remove them properly, and dove in to lick a stripe out of your wet folds.

You moaned, your eyes squeezing “Hee.”

Heeseung murmured “Fuck baby, you always taste so good.”

He hummed at himself when you felt you press your backside against him, eager to be filled.

“Such a good girl,” He whispered “Always so willing for me. mh?”

He quickly worked his jeans down, enough just to take his hard cock out.

You yelped when he aligned it to your entrance and pushed in without any warning, the stretch too painful without any prepping.

Fighting was your favourite type of foreplay, anyways.

Heeseung leaned down, his mouth hovering over your ear. “Too much, baby?” he whispered, his voice soft and mocking.

Your eyes were squeezed tight as you tried to adjust “T-too much.” You replied, feeling jolts of pain shooting through your lower region.

He smirked at your response, feeling a sense of pride at your admission. Heloved knowing that he was the one causing you to feel this way.

“Oh angel,” He chuckled mockingly, “But you can take it.” And with those words he started moving. Rather slower than his usual pace, and that you were thankful.

You yelped in pain and so, Heeseung moved his fingers to gently circle on your clit “You need to relax, baby.”

Because for how much of an asshole Heeseung could be, he would never intentionally hurt you.

At least, not like that, he wanted to bring you the good kind of pain.

“Relax,” He groaned, feeling your walls clenching so hard around him “You’re almost pushing me out.”

You took steady breaths, trying to will your body to adjust to the thick intrusion.

Slowly, your frown contorted into an expression of pleasure.

He picked up the pace, his movements becoming more forceful.

“You feel so good baby,” He gripped your waist, your flesh burning in his grasp “So sweet and tight, just for me.”

You nodded, giving yourself completely to him “Just for you.” You mumbled, your voice muffled by being pressed against the seat.

“Ah, ah.” Heeseung pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail and raised you, adding pain to the pleasure “I didn’t quite catch that.”

You whimpered, trying to reach his hand and pull your hair away but Heeseung caught both of your arms, pinning them behind your back “Answer me.”

“J-just for you.” And Heeseung rewarded you by picking up the pace, the sound of skin slapping and squelch filling the car, its windows fogging up.

“Good girl,” He smiled, releasing the grip in your hair and moving it to choke you instead. He licked your earlobe, tasting the saltiness of your sweaty skin “Tell me, who do you belong to?”

You shut your lips, you weren’t going to give in to his contorted and possessive kink.

You were your own persona, no one else’s.

And Heeseung didn’t like that, no, he pushed you back on the seat and held your head down, smashing your cheeks.

He slapped your ass, so hard it must’ve left a red mark “Fucking answer me, who do you belong to?” His voice was low, dangerous.

A broken whimper left your lips, the sweet sensation of his cock rutting inside you combined with his rough handling making your head spin.

“That’s not the right answer.” He taunted, his thrusts becoming deeper, hitting all the right spots.

Heeseung knew you were close, but he wasn’t going to make you cum if you wouldn’t answer such a simple question.

“Having a cock inside of you makes you so dumb?” He mocked, slapping your ass once more “You’re such a slut, can’t think when you have me buried deep inside ya?”

His words only made you clench around him, you were mad at him for treating you like that, but you were mad at yourself for liking it.

“Say. It.” His voice was dripping with impatience but you shook your head.

Heeseung scoffed, leaning down next to your ear “I can do this all night, baby,” He whispered huskily “I can keep going until you give in. Say it.”

He raised a brow, waiting for your answer.

You opened your eyes and looked at him “I’m not an object, Heeseung.” You groaned.

“No?” He tsked, moving painfully slowly inside you “Yet you act like my personal sext toy, giving yourself to me whenever I ask.”

He let go of you and crossed his arms, stilling. You frowned, a complaining whimper leaving your lips.

“Fuck yourself on my cock.” He said, his voice icy “Since you’re not mine I don’t have to provide you anything.”

“Fine.” You raised your upper body, gripping the car door as you started to move back and forth, fucking his cock in and out of you.

You groaned when it slipped out, and when Heeseung made no move to push it back, you did it yourself.

A smug grin formed on your lips when you noticed how his breath hitched when you touched it, but his expression didn’t give anything away.

You tried again, trying to move faster, but it didn’t work well. Not like when he was the one doing it.

And it seemed as if your lack of skills was starting to affect Heeseung as well, a groan leaving his lips “I know I said I had all night, but I’d like to get some action.”

You scoffed “I’m trying my best,” You replied, pushing your backside against him, trying to reach the sweet spot he seemed to always find.

Heeseung clicked his tongue and shook his head, yanking your pants off your ankles.

He took you by your hips and turned you around until he was sitting and you were straddling him.

His cock was still inside of you, but this time you were on his lap, “Let’s see if you can ride me, mh? Or you can’t do anything alone?”

You frowned at his words and gripped the seat behind your back. Heeseung rolled his eyes and removed your hands, placing them on his shoulders.

You moved up and down, your head thrown back as you could feel him whole in you.

“That’s better,” He replied, leaning back against the seat and watching you riding him, still not moving a muscle.

You whined when he made no move to touch you, usually he’d play with your nipples or send jolts of pleasure by rubbing your clit. Yet, he did none of that.

“You know the magic word.” Heeseung smirked, “Say it, and I’ll make both of us feel good.”

He tilted his head “Don’t say it, and I’ll make you ride my dick until I cum, and judging by your slow pace, it might take forever.”

A few seconds passed where you pondered on your decision.

He was still high so there might be a chance that he wouldn’t remember you had give yourself completely to him. Against your morals.

You leaned close to his ear and whispered “M’yours, Hee.”

He growled, a deep rumble in his throat as he grasped your hips and moved you.

He didn’t guide your movements, he straight up used you like you were his fleshlight. You didn’t even know how he could move your body so easily.

He kept hitting the spot that had your eyes roll, your grasp on his shoulders making your nails dig in his flesh, only fuelling his desires.

Your expression full of lust made him smirk, he leaned to capture your lips in an hungry kiss, his tongue swiping over yours, tasting you.

As you kept clenching around him, he groaned, and ordered “Open up.”

You complied and opened your mouth, Heeseung gathered some saliva and then spit it on your tongue just to swipe it away with his own right after.

You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

Heeseung chuckled, he knew you were close to your orgasm from your body language.

Breath laboured, loud moans escaping your lips and your walls sucking him in.

“Raise yourself.” He said, holding your body up to help you.

He placed one finger inside your asshole, gaining a gasp from you.

He held it still as he started fucking into you at a fast pace, needing to reach both of your orgasms.

You started mumbling nonsense, something that resembled ‘Yes’ and ‘Harder, please’ but not even you were sure.

It was like he had fucked your into oblivion, the only thing you could think about was how good he felt inside of you.

“Close, angel?” He asked, your walls clenching around him to the point of pain.

You hummed brokenly, managing to give him a small nod.

“You want to cum?” He asked, his voice slightly softer “Want to milk all around my cock?”

You nodded “Yes, Hee, want to cum.” You mumbled, your head dizzy.

“Cum for me, baby.” He whispered in your ear, pushing his finger deeper into your asshole.

You felt the knot in your stomach tighten so hard that when it snapped, you bit down on Heeseung’s clothed shoulder, making him groan and tighten his grip around you.

Your legs were shaking and you were panting from the intensity of your euphoria, your ears ringing.

Heeseung held you close to his chest, slowing his pace to bring you back to reality.

Slowly, your teeth let go of Heeseung’s shoulder, the metallic taste of blood in your mouth.

You gulped and looked at him through half lidded eyes, but his own were fixed down.

He was staring at where your bodies connected, the circle of your white liquid around his shaft, you could feel him twitch inside you.

“You can take some more, can’t you, baby?” He questioned, but you shook your head.

Heeseung frowned, “No? But I still haven’t finished.” Your body was tired and so was your mind, both from the fight and the intense sex.

“Let me finish,” He kissed you, deeply “Let me fill you up to the brim, please?”

You moaned at the thought, despite always taking precautions, you have always wanted him to make you his in the most primal way.

Seeing that you weren’t making a negative comment, Heeseung started moving you, slowly.

You moaned, feeling overstimulated as you gripped the arms that held you “Hee— I ca-I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” He groaned, holding you still, flush to his chest as he started rutting his cock deep, hitting your cervix.

His moans were low, more like rumbles deep in his throat as he held your head on his shoulder, his eyes squeezing.

“Fuck,” He panted, moving so fast you could barely finish a moan that another one was coming, your voice hoarse “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He fisted your hair, his other hand on your waist with a bruising grip “Gonna fill you so good, fuck my cum right back into you.”

You didn’t know if he was rumbling to you or more to himself, not like you minded.

Letting out a deep growl, he hit the deepest spot in you and emptied his load.

With some more deep thrusts, you could feel him twitch, and you felt so full.

His pace slowed until he finally stopped and you fell on him, fucked up.

Your whole body was bruised from his grip, your mind dizzy and your breath ragged.

“This was so good,” Heeseung whispered, holding your face in his hands and kissing you deeply.

He tried to move again but you grasped his arm, shaking your head “No, stop.” And he had the decency to comply, this time.

He pulled out and placed you beside him, putting his now softened cock back into his jeans.

Heeseung retrieved your shirt from the passenger seat, and tossed it to you, as well as your sweatpants.

Only when you were fully dressed did he speak again “I’m sorry, for what I did.”

Your eyes widened, not expecting his apology at all “Hee…” You murmured, your gaze soft “I’m just so worried about you, I get mad because I care about you.”

You placed one hand on his cheek, caressing his skin with your thumb. “If I didn't, it wouldn’t matter that you snorted things or… injected shit into your veins.”

Heeseung frowned, “I’m not a junkie, all I did was take some ecstasy tabs.”

You sighed, knowing there was no way to make him reason when he was still drunk and high “Okay, Heeseung. Whatever you say.”

“I’m driving.” Your tone was firm “Y/N.” He tried to say but you stopped him.

“No, I am driving,” You retrieved the keys that had fallen and climbed on the driver’s seat.

Heeseung let out a sigh but didn’t talk back, instead he climbed into the passenger seat and shut his mouth, probably all that he had drank and snorted was taking a toll on him.

You hadn’t realised when you took him into your apartment and showered with him, which led into another round of love— sex making.

You hadn’t realised when he apologised for his behaviour and kissed each mark he had left on your skin.

You hadn’t realised when he let you sleep on his chest, gently rubbing his hands through your hair.

But you did when you woke up to an empty bed, with a plan b pill and a glass of water wishing you a good morning. The only trace of your boyfriend being the wrinkled sheets beside you.

Only then, did you realise that Lee Heeseung was going to be the death of you.

[bumblebeem]

Transformers One (mostly Bumblebee) things I can't stop thinking about.

During the film's opening when Orion Pax falls into a room and onto a table full of energon, he bundles a load of it into his arms and is eating as much as he can until he drops it all and has to keep fleeing.

He's starving. The miners are being underfed as well as overworked.

Additionally, we see Bumblebee has three rations on his person when he offers one up to wake Alpha Trion. This might suggest he's keeping these rations for when he'll need them rather than being able to comfortably feed himself. For the miners it's a scarce resource they have to be careful with, and yet the transformers on the higher levels are enjoying it in abundance.

Bumblebee urging D-16 to "stay down" during Sentinel's attack.

This is an interesting line - if it was a nothing line meant to reflect compassion/empathy, he could have urged Sentinel to stop, or implored the 'bots next to him to take notice and do something. There were other ways to demonstrate "Bumblebee is kind and doesn't want his friend to get hurt."

But he doesn't look to authority or anyone else around him for help on D-16's behalf.

He instead instructs D-16 on how to behave to get the abuse to stop.

Which suggests to me this is learned behaviour, and he's giving advice based on previous experience. He's learned that taking the punishment and letting it happen gets the perpetrator to eventually stop, but resisting and fighting against them keeps it going.

That he was reassigned continually right down into sub-level 50 would tell me he's had more than his fair share of annoying a bigger 'bot enough to get himself knocked around once or twice. And very likely, nobody witnessing the abuse helped him, and/or the authority in the room was the one perpetrating the abuse anyway, so of course they weren't going to step in and help.

The only way out for him has always been to just take it :( So he assumes this will be the quickest/least painful way out for D-16, too.

Bumblebee is as much of a nerd as Orion is.

He knows about the High Guard (and is very excited to recite what he knows about them), he recognises the Primes as soon as they come across them in the cave, he watches the broadcast Orion locates inside Steve's head with interest... It's very subtly done, but I think this is the main shared trait between Orion and Bee. I wish we had seen more of Bumblebee trying to talk to Orion about this shared interest, but I get the main relationship they wanted to portray was that between Orion and D-16 (and really enjoyed that regardless!)

Bumblebee knows how to leave sub-level 50, yet he still goes back to his post, and doesn't appear to be using this escape-time to socialise with anyone else on the other floors he can access since he is so very clearly starved of social contact.

I'm not crying, okay, I'm just imagining this poor little guy sitting out of view watching the other cogless 'bots come and go, knowing he could get into more trouble and be even more isolated if he announces his presence and gets himself caught.

Also his "limited access" to the waste management area, and that thing he says about the main one in charge there preferring that he stays on task and really not liking any distractions... Ugh.

Bumblebee is purposely isolated in that room and there's apparently enough of a deterrent to keep him in it that he is forced to make imaginary friends out of trash to talk to instead.

I'm gonna go insane with grief and rage.

[humanpurposes]

Nightblooms

It was a single night, such a trivial moment, two children sharing lemon cakes in a brothel, but she has not forgotten it. He will not recognise her, surely? // Main Masterlist

Aemond x unnamed female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst, sex work, unresolved childhood trauma, implied underage and non-con (not explicitly depicted), mentions of war, violence and death

Words: 9.7k (she's a bit of a monster)

A/n: my humble offering of another Aemond brothel fic. I hope you like :) You can also read this on AO3 if you feel so inclined.

He remembers the bed, the thin curtain draped around it, the slight breeze that drifted in on the night air and made it flutter. The throw was richly decorated, red, black and brown, and he picked at the thin threads of embroidery with his fingertips until his skin was red and white. 

The heat in the room was unbearable, the stench of wine, incense, his own sweat clinging to his bare skin. He was weary to breathe the air in, to tarnish himself any further than had already been done. 

He flinched as the door opened. The madam was back, now wearing a gown and all her gold jewellery. A silhouette stood behind her, he couldn’t see them properly, concealed in shadows. 

“You are shivering, my Prince,” she said. 

He could feel it, his knees brought up to his chest and his arms clinging around his legs. His clothes were neatly folded in a corner, his eyepatch atop the pile, he just hadn’t managed to reach for them yet.

“Have some wine if you like,” the madam said. 

The silhouette stepped into the flickering candlelight. In years to come her face would fade from his memory, but she was young, perhaps as young as him. She was dressed like the other whores, in a loose gown of blue silk that exposed glimpses of her skin, her shoulder, her thigh through a slit in the skirt. She held a pitcher of wine and a cup in her hands.

“She is undertaking her own education,” the madam said, noting how long Aemond’s eye had lingered on the girl. “She’ll help you bathe and dress.”

He made no sound of protest. The madam took the pitcher. He could smell the sour scent of the wine as she poured it. Already a few cups deep, the numbness of alcohol was starting to wear off and a pulsing pain was blooming in the back of his head. The madam placed the cup on a table and then she left.

The girl took a single step towards the bed. She lifted her arm, holding out her hand to him, as if he were some street dog to be tamed.

He scowled. His left eyelids were sewn shut back then, his wound mostly healed after three years, but still hideous enough that people would stare in shock at the sight of him, the ailing King’s maimed son. The Lords and Ladies of the Red Keep averted their eyes when they saw him. His mother looked at him with tears in her eyes. His father… the last time his father must have looked him in the eye was on Driftmark.

But this girl looked at him unabashedly.

If he had his wits about him he might have scorned her. Smallfolk like her should know their place, they should revere their Princes. He shouldn’t inspire pity, he should inspire fear and awe.

His stomach was turning. Anger coursed through his blood. His eyes were hot and stinging but he would not allow any tears to fall. And he was restless. It was all familiar to him, the frustration, the humiliation. He couldn’t bear to sit on the bed anymore, cowering like a child.

“I have a bath drawn,” the girl said. 

He had heard her, but he could not find the will to move, not for a few moments at least, moments which felt like hours.

“I have some cake as well. I find it helps me regain my strength… afterwards.”

He felt his head nod.

“It’s lemon, do you like lemon cake?”

“Yes,” he muttered into his knees.

He watched her fetch a robe from the back of a settee by the fireplace, draping it over her arm. “We only have to go to the next room, not far at all.”

He blinked as he looked at her. He felt the dampness on his cheeks, the stinging cold left in the trail of his tears as another breeze swept into the room. 

All the faces around him this night were unnerving. Aegon had been far too delighted with his so-called “gift”. He’d entered Aemond’s chambers with a snarling smile before he’d gripped him by his shoulders and dragged him through the stairways used by servants to stay out of sight. “You are a man now, Aemond. Time to get it wet.”

The madam had a calm gaze, soft lips and small eyes which considered him intently once she had taken the purse of coins from Aegon. The scent of her perfume was sharp and he could still smell it in his nostrils. His stomach lurched again. 

“Come,” the girl said.

Hers was the only face he found any ease in, and he could not explain why that was.

She held out the robe for him and asked before she secured the tie at his waist. She went to a small door in the corner of the room which he had not even noticed until then. It led into another chamber where the air was hot and humid but not as suffocating.

A basin stood in the middle of the room. She took out two small brown bottles and let a few drops of oil fall into the water, filling the room with a gentle, fresh scent. “Lavender,” she explained, “and rosemary. They are meant to be calming.”

He stepped into the water, glad to find it just below scolding. 

The girl kneeled by the basin, gently pouring cups of water over his hair, running it through with a sweeter smelling oil. She took his hand and allowed him to settle, scrubbing his skin with sugar, cleansing it with an amber soap.

When it was done she rested her chin in her hands at the edge. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

He’d stopped crying now, his limbs felt steadier, more his own. He nodded.

“I don’t feel myself until I’ve washed it all off. It makes me feel as though my skin is truly mine again,” she said.

He felt his hands over his arms, the sweat and the fluids rinsed away, the dead skin scrubbed smooth.

“Thank you,” he said. His voice was thick, unnatural in his own throat.

“Do not thank me yet,” she said with a small smile, and suddenly jumped up to her feet. She walked out of his sight, past his blind spot, but she soon returned with a small wooden box. She kneeled beside the basin and opened the lid to reveal three small cakes, dusted with sugar and topped with thin slices of candied lemons. “Take one then,” she said.

He bit down on the inside of his lip to hide his amusement at her impertinence. He did as she told him and ate half of one cake in a single bite. A pleasant sourness burst on his tongue, not like the wine, sweeter, zestier. She was right, his mind was starting to feel a little less numb, the life flooding back into him with every breath he took, lavender, rosemary and lemon.

“You have one too,” he said.

“I’m not meant to,” she said, “they’re for the patrons.”

Aemond lowered his chin to look at her. “Take one.” Now it was his turn to deliver the orders.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes darting between him and the cakes.

“If anyone reprimands you I’ll feed them to my dragon.”

Her expression ignited. “Alright,” she said with a sly smile.

They devoured the rest of their cakes and shared the remaining one. She insisted that he should have the other candied lemon.

“Do you really feed people to your dragon?” she asked, wiping the crumbs from her mouth.

Aemond licked the sugar from his fingers. “I’ve not done it yet.”

She seemed stunned at his answer, then she giggled. “Yours is the big one, isn’t it?”

“Vhagar. She was Queen Visenya’s mount during the Conquest.”

“I see her sometimes, flying over the city.”

“She is too large for the Dragon Pit,” Aemond explained, “she nests along the shore of the bay.”

“And roams where she pleases?”

“Never too far from me.”

“No,” she said, her voice wilting, “of course.”

He suddenly wondered what this sad, sweet girl kneeling beside him would do if she had a dragon. He could picture her on Dreamfyre, the mount of his sister. Helaena adored flying and would often guide her dragon to glide above the waters of Blackwater Bay and the hills surrounding King’s Landing. This girl would take her dragon further, he thought, she would soar up above the clouds. Perhaps she would take her dragon over the seas, to Essos, to the Summer Isles, to the far corners of the world.

He did not flinch from her when she offered him a towel and patted his skin dry. She fetched his clothes from the other room, the awful room where he could not breathe, buttoning his shirt with swift fingers, doing up the buckles on his jerkin.

She was not much shorter than he was. She stood close enough that he could smell the lemon cake on her fingers, and there was something sweeter and richer underneath. It made him think of fresh fruit and vanilla, rose petals and nightblooms.

Her eyes drew slowly up from his collar to his face, to the wound slicing through the space where his eye once was.

“Does that hurt?” she asked.

He was no stranger to pain. It had persisted since the incident itself, stinging and shooting through his skull. It once made him cower like a child, but of late it had lulled into more of a passing irritation. Had the extent of the pain subsided, or was he simply used to it now? “Sometimes,” he said. 

“How did it happen?”

The years had passed quickly since then. He remembered the joy he felt flying before the moon and the stars over Driftmark on Vhagar, the faces of his nephews and cousins in the dark. He spat cruelties at them. They shoved him, punched him, kicked him. He remembers the taste of his own blood, the crack of Lucerys’ nose under his knuckles, the dust in his eye and then a pain like fire piercing through to his brain.

Three years and he still felt clumsy in his movements. He would often lose his balance or misjudge his steps. He would miss objects as he went to reach for them, and he was still not quite used to turning his head so that he could see past his blind side.

He’d never had to say it out loud before, not all of it. It had been enough for Lord Commander Westerling to find his face covered in blood and the remains of his eye. He had told his father he had been attacked, but it went unheard to the pleas of innocence by the bastards and their mother. The maesters studied his wound. Cole told him he could regain his strength if he worked for it. Everyone else tended to avert their eyes altogether.

She was looking at it, trailing her fingertips over the edges of his scar and the twisted flesh of his eyelids. 

“It was the night I claimed Vhagar. I was returning to Hightide and they came at me, Jace, Luke, Laena’s daughters–” he suddenly realised these names meant nothing to her, but she did not seem discouraged.

“Go on,”

“Rhaena, well, Vhagar was her mother’s dragon. She wanted her, but I claimed her first. I was not afraid of them. Baela struck me first. Then Jace and Luke came at me, and Jace had a knife.”

She breathed a small gasp.

“Luke took up the knife. It all happened very quickly.”

“They did that to you, over a dragon?” She said, trailing her touch lower, over his cheek. 

He remembered the cool surface of the rock in his hand, hovered over Jace’s head. One of the girls shook her head, begging him to stop. And he did—  or he was going to stop…

That’s when Luke had slashed the blade at him.

“I was weak,” he said, brushing her hand away from his face. “It’ll never happen again.”

She tilted her head at him. Her eyes were glassy, like she might cry. Guilt tugged in his chest. He had not wished to upset her.

Then she took a quick breath and went to take up his cloak and his eyepatch. He placed them both on, covering his silver hair with his hood.

She beckoned him to follow with her fingers. They weaved through the close corridors and the few women and men they passed, some fully dressed, some wearing nothing at all. It felt ridiculous and somewhat unbelievable to see how unashamed they all were, women with their breasts out, men with their cocks hanging between their legs. 

His stomach turned again.

He reached for the girl’s hand. Her head whipped around and she held onto him, firmly. He didn’t want to lose sight of her, he couldn’t bear the thought of being alone in this place.

Neither of them let go when they reached the doors. People were passing though so they kept close to the wall, face-to-face. 

“Can you find your way back to the Keep from here?” she said, only having to whisper.

Aegon had long since disappeared. Aemond had rarely been out into the city, save to accompany his mother to the Sept, or his siblings to the Dragon Pit. He was alone now, no guards, no wheelhouse, but the Red Keep with its turrets, battlements and flickering lights in the windows would not be difficult to locate. He nodded.

���I’m sorry,” she said.

“What for?” 

“For what happened to you.”

His stomach turned again, less nauseating, more unsettling, uncertain. He supposed this would be the last time he saw her.

“Will you be alright, here?” he said.

She took in a sharp breath and she frowned as though she were in pain. “Yes. The madam is good to me. She keeps me fed and clean.”

But the things they must make her do…

“Go, return to your royal castle and your servants,” she said with a grin. “Far better that I am here and not starving in some gutter.”

So he did. He slipped through the door, his last memory of her being obscured by shadows, perhaps that’s why he could not recall the details of her face. 

Walking through the streets of King’s Landing, he had never felt so aware of his body, his skin under his clothes, shifting over his bones. His limbs felt slightly numb, his feet moving of their own will while his mind… was clouded. His head felt heavy and the noises around him were distant. No one paid any mind to the boy trudging over the dirt and cobbles, but he felt the eyes of the gods on him and it made him shiver. They had seen his sins. What if his mother knew where he had been, the things he had done? He imagined her brown eyes, filled with disgust rather than grief.

He could not look at Aegon for weeks afterwards. He shied away from his mother’s touch, especially on his legs, his knees. In the Sept he begged the gods to forgive him. He begged to forget it.

Years went by. Some nights when he felt a certain tension in his stomach and a stirring in his breeches, he’d think of it, the heat and sweat and incense. And after there was no relief, just an emptiness in his chest.

He could wash it all away, with drops of lavender and rosemary oil in his bath, with sugar scrubbed into his skin.

If there was one thing he wished to remember of that night, it was her. He still thought of that girl, a face obscured in shadow, when the servants brought out lemon cakes after supper, when Helaena insisted on walking through the gardens at sunset and the air was sweet with nightblooms. She pointed them out to him, the silvery white flowers growing in the leafy green bushes lining the path, their petals like little moons in the foliage. 

“How curious are these,” Helaena had said one evening, “they retract in sunlight, but in darkness they flourish.”

Daylight dies with a golden sunset and night blooms with a sky of red and indigo clouds. 

The King’s body is now ash. Sunfyre had the honour of being the dragon to do it. It was a hasty affair, in the hours after Aegon’s coronation, when the chaos at the Dragon Pit still had their family and the Small Council stunned to silence. Aegon wore the steel crown as they stood on a cliff over the bay, waiting for him to give the order. The heads of his mother and his sister hung heavy, but Aemond did not avert his gaze from the flames. He felt the heat on his face, seeping through his skin. 

At long last, his father is gone. Aemond has not wept for him, nor does he feel a desire to. His father was once a young man, well loved, so he is told, but to Aemond he was always a frail old man. Save for the few times he ever proved his strength, and even then his strength was only ever resolved for his dearest child. 

Rhaenys will have made it to Dragonstone within a matter of hours, and Aegon’s ascension will not come without consequence. 

On the morrow he will fly for Storm’s End and secure the allegiance of Lord Borros Baratheon. His mother has assured him this will be a simple enough feat, swords for a marriage pact with one of the Baratheon girls, but a crucial one. His brother will not hold the throne long without Lords to uphold his claim and men to fight for it. 

He wonders if the Stormlands will live up to their name; how dull the entire affair will be if it only amounts to flying Vhagar through a downpour of rain. This is the war his mother and grandsire wish to fight, with letters and diplomacy. He is sure the dragons will become restless soon enough. Rhaenyra has been steadfastly sure of her own importance her entire life, and with Daemon at her side, she will not bend the knee without a challenge.

And what of Aegon, is he ready to fight for his crown?

When Viserys breathed his last and the pieces were all finally in play, Aegon had not been where he needed to be. Not in his rooms, not within the walls of the castle. He was squandering his duties, evading the position he was born to, as he always has done. Aemond himself was the one to drag him from the streets of King’s Landing to the Red Keep. Cole had spent hours with him, convincing him to take up the crown rather than fleeing on a ship across the Narrow Sea, to Pentos, to Yi Ti, some far corner of the world where the burden of being their father’s son would not weigh so heavily on his shoulders. 

The first place Aemond had thought to look for his brother proved to be a fruitless endeavour. The establishment was a familiar one, and with every step he took along the Street of Silk his memories phased into reality. The knocker on the door was the same. The madam was the same, the same long, auburn hair, the same gold jewellery, the same knowing smile on her lips and a gleam in her eyes. 

“The Prince is not here,” she had said. “His tastes are known to be less discriminating.” Of course. Aegon could pay for the most expensive, sweetly perfumed whores in all of King’s Landing, but instead he sullies himself with the scum of Fleabottom, rolling around in the dirt like a pig.

The madam’s gaze then turned to Aemond. She remarked how he had grown. It felt an obvious thing to say. He was no longer the child he was when Aegon first brought him there.

While he and Cole wandered the city in search of his wastrel of a brother, a thought passed through his mind. He thought of a face in the shadows of the brothel, steam rising, gentle hands, the scent of lavender, rosemary, rose, nightblooms…

She could have been there, on the other side of the door, within the walls of the establishment. She would be a woman just as he was now a man. Or she might have left years ago, to a better life, or perhaps a worser fate. Are the lives of the smallfolk not meant to be brutish and short? 

A hollowness settles in his chest, restless and hungry, like it’s writhing under his skin. He paces his chambers, reads until the hearth has died and the sky beyond the windows is black, but sleep will not come to him.

In the hour of the wolf, he dons a cloak and retraces his steps.

Men are all the same. They strut into the establishment like peacocks, with an ego that outweighs their purse. They flash a few coins and ask for wine rather than ale, a symptom of refined taste. They run their hands over her body, her waist, her hips and her rear as though she should be grateful for their attention. They tell her uninteresting stories while they drink themselves into a stupor. They convince themselves that it is their charm and decent looks that have her leading them to a bed in a quiet corner of the pleasure house, or falling to her knees and undoing the laces on their breeches. The truth is that she will do what is asked of her, so long as they have gold. It is only motions of the body, and afterwards she can wash it all away. 

Until the next night… and then the next… and then the next…

Madam Sylvi has promised her to a Lannister tonight, a man of Lord Tyland’s household, no doubt paid well by the family he serves. He is supposed to be waiting for her but first she must pretty herself for him. She wears a gown of blood red that bares her back and her arms, that will easily fall away with the undoing of a clasp at her neck. She lets her hair fall freely and tints her lips and cheeks with rosewater. Finally she dabs her perfume into her wrists, her neck, on the insides of her ankles, a scent she has worn for years, sweet, rich and floral.

She descends the stairs by the door. At the darkest time of night the pleasure house is alive. Music hums over the laughter, the moans, the cries. The air is thick with the sourness of alcohol and the smell of sweat and sex.

A man with silver hair stands in the entrance hall, Sylvi beside him. They speak with their heads close together, as familiars? As lovers? Sylvi strokes his arm affectionately, with a look glinting in her eye that means she intends to bleed this Targaryen of all the gold he has.

It does not sink in until he looks up, his single eye meetings hers. He wears an eyepatch over his left eye, dark leather obstructing his hair and pale skin.

The eyepatch… it cannot be…

Sylvi had always said men come here to take their pleasure on their own terms. This had not seemed to be the case when last she laid eyes upon Prince Aemond. She had seen them enter, the young Princes, one taller, merrier, with purple wine stains in the corners of his mouth. The other was solemn faced and unsure, ushered into the arms of the madam before she led him upstairs. Sylvi had other patrons to attend to once the deed was done, leaving the burden of caring for the young Prince on her equally young shoulders.

She still remembers him hunched over himself and shivering, the distant look in his eye, frozen in a single moment of time. The most she had been offered after her first time was a cup of moon tea and an order to change the sheets for the next patron.

It was a single night, such a trivial moment, two children sharing lemon cakes in a brothel, but she has not forgotten it. He will not recognise her, surely?

“Her,” the Prince says, “I will have her.”

Her heart drops. She has reached the end of the steps and freezes, looking to Sylvi for instruction. Anticipation stirs in her gut, somewhere between terror and curiosity.

“I’m afraid she has been spoken for tonight, but I would be glad to–”

“I will pay double what any other man has promised,” Aemond says with an air of finality. This is an offer that cannot be refused. Perhaps the minor Lord will be disgruntled, but he will be compensated generously. Defying a Prince is treason. 

While Sylvi has gone to deal with the outbidded Lord, her legs carry her down the last few steps until she is face to face with Prince Aemond.

He is taller for a start, at least a head above her. His hair is longer, his face is slimmer and sharper, his lips are settled into a slight pout. He carries himself differently, proudly. Her eyes move over his leathers under his cloak. She is not meant to admire the men who seek her services. She is meant to take their coin and fulfil their desires.

“Some wine, my Prince?” she asks, nodding towards the inner chamber, the heart of the pleasure house where the musicians play and bodies mingle out in the open or behind drawn curtains. 

He offers her a cryptic “hmm,” and follows her inside.

One of the other girls stands in a corner, carrying a tray of full cups. She passes one to Aemond, his fingertips brushing over her skin as he takes it. 

The Prince studies his surroundings like a hunter looking for quarry, lips quirked, jaw tight, somewhat amused but silent. Something tells her he has not returned to the pleasure house in the years since his first visit. This is all unfamiliar to him. He sips his wine and takes a slow breath. No doubt he will prefer somewhere a little more secluded.

She takes his hand and weaves through the room, to one of the adjacent chambers lit by candlelight, large enough to fit a bed and little else.

With the curtains drawn the other sounds fade into nothing. She takes Aemond’s wine and sets it aside, coming to stand before him.

She keeps waiting for him to lean into her, to grab greedily at some part of her flesh, to claim her lips with his. Instead he stands stoically, his chest rising and falling from underneath the thick leather of his tunic.

“Are you not awfully warm, my Prince?” she says in a honeyed voice, one she has practised for years that usually feeds the lie she actually wants what’s about to happen. She trails her fingertips over the shiny silver buckles that conceal him from her, his body stiffening under her touch.

She takes a breath to steady the erratic beat of her heart and the wanting stirring in her belly. It is not often that her own forwardness seems out of place. 

She remembers the boy with silver hair. She remembers the scowl on his face, how it melted into confusion and fear. He had needed patience then and she was happy to give it. Because she was ordered to. Because she pitied him. Perhaps because she recognised something in his expression and the way he seemed unsure in his own skin.

She places a hand on his shoulder, testing the waters of how close she can get to him. He does not protest. His nose twitches as he inhales deeply and exhales slowly. “Perhaps we should make ourselves more comfortable?” she says.

He places his hand over hers, guiding it to the top buckle at his collar. His expression is stern, his face bathed in golden candlelight and the shadows caught in the angles of his face. His eye is somehow soft but intent.

Undressing him is not to be rushed. She takes her time with every buckle on his jerkin and pushes it slowly from his shoulders. She untucks his undershirt from his breeches and he pulls it over his head. His skin is smooth, mostly unmarred, save for a small scar in the crook of his elbow that had not been there the last time they met. He is all muscle, lean and lithe. She places her palms at his chest and lets them drag down his abdomen, to the waist of his breeches.

He holds her wrists to stop her.

She looks to his eye, terrified that she might have overstepped.

Instead he kisses her. It’s gentle and chaste, his hand against the bare skin of her back, pulling her against his body. When she teases his tongue with hers he chases it, only for the kiss to become messy and clumsy. She cannot bring herself to dislike his inexperience.

“Wait,” she says, pulling away, putting her hands on either side of his jaw. “Follow my lead,” she whispers, leaning in to capture his lower lip between hers. They find a rhythm then. She shows him to move slowly, to be firmer. As their kiss deepens she allows herself to melt into his arms. Her hips are rocking against his, his hand trailing over her skin until he finds the clasp of her dress. The material falls away as simply as it should, leaving her bare before him.

He studies her the same way he studied the room. How many men have laid eyes on her since she came to this place? Too many to count, insignificant men, who have no names or faces in her memory. She has no shame in her nakedness, but there has never been any doubt in her mind that those men found her desirable. Being under Aemond’s scrutiny makes her tremble. She wonders if the sight of her pleases him. He has enough gold and enough pride to be selective. 

He had asked for her though. Why?

He’s staring at her. “They crowned my brother today,” he says.

It is not what she was expecting to hear. “I saw.”

“You were there?”

“No.” The gold cloaks did not empty the whorehouses when they were ordered to fill the Dragonpit with witnesses for the King’s coronation.

Aemond’s attention is on her body now. He reaches for her arm, tracing circles over her skin with his thumb.

She had not seen the King himself but she had seen the crowds flocking. She had heard the tremendous noise of crumbling stone, people screaming, a dragon’s screech. “I saw the dragon. People say it is an omen.”

Aemond’s face darkens but his attention is still on his own hand, now at her waist. With the other he pulls the eyepatch from his head and tosses it towards his discarded shirt. She does not get much of a chance to refresh her memory of his maimed eye before he leans into her again. His lips are at her shoulder, then her neck and it leaves her utterly weightless. 

“Your perfume is the same,” he mutters into her skin.

He remembers.

Aemond seems content enough following her lead. He lets her slip his breeches past his hips and take him into her mouth. He lets her sit atop him and grind her core against his hardened cock until her peak washes over her, blissful and warm.

When he starts to buck his hips and dig his fingertips into her hips she decides to give him respite. She sinks herself onto him with a soft sigh. It is a rare opportunity to chase a feeling rather than letting herself go through a rehearsed set of motions. 

His eye moves between her face and the space where their bodies meet, as if he cannot decide which is more fascinating. She is pleasantly surprised when he places his thumb at her pearl and circles over her sensitive flesh.

She loses herself in it, how deep he reaches, pleasure rising and tightening until it releases suddenly, violently. She falls forwards on her hands to steady herself. 

Before long Aemond lifts her off his cock, finishing himself with a stuttering groan and his seed dripping through the folds of her cunt.

He holds her close, caging her in his arms and bringing her into his chest. There’s a numbness that follows pleasure and she cannot bring herself to care that he is crushing her ribs. It doesn’t matter. She basks in the heat of his skin and the smell of him. 

He makes good on his promise of payment. The purse of coins he leaves on the bed before he leaves is worth ten nights with any other patron. 

There is less pretence the next time he visits her.

It is only a day later. He comes in the middle of the night, his hair, coat and leather gloves soaked, but there is no rain in King’s Landing. They tear at each other’s clothes and kiss like starved dogs devouring scraps. Aemond holds her by her jaw and her neck. When she draws his teeth over his lip he grins.

Once he is bare she realises his skin is cold and he is shivering.

“You should sit before a fire and warm up properly–”

“No,” he insists, “I just want you.”

She chases her pleasure once more, Aemond’s hands bruising into her hips as he thrusts up to meet her, the coldness of his palms seeping through her skin. This newfound urgency is thrilling and she finds herself curling over her body as her peaks tears through her.

Aemond is not finished with her yet. He positions her beneath him, spreading her legs apart with two wide palms before fucks her with a brutal precision, and he does not stop until he has reached his own end, painting her belly and the tops of her thighs.

After, he takes her into his arms, positioning them both so that he lies under her arm with his head nestled on her chest, between her breasts. She strokes her fingertips through his damp hair, over his skin, all the places where lovers touch each other, his cheek, his neck, underneath his ear, his shoulder. With his arm draped over her stomach he clings to her like he may never know such intimacy again. His skin is still cold and yet she holds him close, determined that she will draw some warmth from him.

Hours pass. Days could pass and she’d be content to lie with him.

“The dragon was an omen, you said,” he mutters.

It takes her a moment to rouse herself. Her eyes had closed, her mind half asleep. “That’s what people are saying. A coronation marred by death must surely only lead to more death.”

She feels his arm tighten over her stomach.

“You’re cold,” she says.

“I was instructed to fly to the Stormlands.”

“Why?”

“To secure the support of Lord Baratheon. He has pledged his banners to my brother’s cause and in return I am to wed his daughter.”

His state suggests to her that he has not yet returned to the Red Keep.

“Is there to be a war?” she says. 

He remains frozen for a few moments.

“I believe war may now be inevitable,” he says. She feels his lips brushing over her skin.

“How so?” she says on a quiet breath.

“A boy is dead because of me.”

The coldness of Aemond’s body has decidedly taken root within her, like a fist closing over her heart and throat.

“Lucerys was there, at Storm’s End. Lord Borros shunned him from the hall but I… it wasn’t enough. I pursued him on Vhagar. His dragon is nothing to her, they didn’t stand a chance.”

She is not sure she wishes to hear of this, but a new kind of stillness has settled over her. She is too afraid to move, to disturb him. 

“He is the one who took your eye,” she says.

Aemond hums. “He never paid for what he did to me. My father was more concerned with the slanders against my sister than he was with me, with my blood spilled by my own kin.”

She closes her eyes, imagining the little boy from all those years ago is curled up in her arms. She runs her fingers through his hair, undoing the knots and tangles. She cradles his head in her arms so he knows he is not alone.

“His debt is paid now, I suppose,” Aemond says.

It is in the early hours of the morning when he finally leaves, the first glimpses of sunrise chasing night from the sky. She helps him dress and fastens his eyepatch over his head. He leaves another purse in her palm, a more than generous amount. 

He comes to her nightly. He is an unhurried lover and fucks her slowly, hovering his lips above hers so that they share the same air, keeping their bodies pressed tightly together as if he wishes to smother her, or else crawl under her skin. She’d let him do it.

It is not simply her body he wants. When they are done he wants to be held, and then his thoughts slip from between his lips. 

He had not expected to return to the Red Keep a hero for slaying his nephew, but now he says his mother can hardly look at him. His grandsire, the Hand of the King scorns him for his recklessness, for his impulse for violence that now means the false Queen may strike at any moment. Vhagar circles the city during the day, she sees the dragon when she goes to the market. Aemond insists that his dragon could make short work of destroying any other who would seek to oppose her, but Rhaenyra has dragons to spare. He sits in meetings of the Small Council and watches in despair as the Hand and the Dowager Queen advocate for patience and diplomacy. 

“We should be marching,” he says one night, tracing his fingertips over her stomach. “We should secure the support of the Crownlands, adding their numbers to our host. Rhaenyra is isolated enough on Dragonstone, but we could cut her off from her allies completely.”

“And none would stand against you and Vhagar,” she says. Assuring him has become a learned skill these last few weeks.

“Alicent wishes for me to remain here, to deter an attack on the city.”

“That is sound logic,” she says. “The people of King’s Landing will be grateful for your protection.”

Aemond hums irritatedly.

“I for one would despair at the loss of our Prince,” she adds, ghosting her lips over his cheek, where his scar cuts through his skin.

For a little while he entertains her, turning his head to kiss her properly. She slips her hand between their bodies, taking hold of his hardening cock. He melts into her, chasing his pleasure as she strokes him.

“I am ready for more,” he says breathlessly. “I’m ready to fight.”

“As you have proved,” she says, coming to kiss his throat. 

In a single breath he is above her, pinning her hands by her head. He positions himself against her, rocking his hips so his leaking tip pushes against her pearl. He knows this about her now, how to draw her pleasure from her body. “Storm’s End was no battle,” he hisses into her ear. “Luke was a child. I want fire and blood.”

“Your time will come,” she says, her voice catching in her throat as he quickens his pace.

“The war must be inevitable,” he pants, “the realm will realise it soon enough. Aegon is the King and yet he is hostage to those with weaker wills.”

“You are his brother,” she sighs as Aemond slips lower to her entrance. “You can convince him to act–”

“Not now,” Aemond says, pushing into her with one sudden thrust. “Just take it, that’s it…”

He fucks her slowly, deeply, with his face buried into her neck. His desperation fuels her own desire, his hot breath against her ear, his pants and his groans. When he is finished he does not leave her wanting, trailing his lips and tongue down her body, her chest, her stomach, driving her towards her own peak with his lips and tongue.

“My grandfather takes my aspirations as insolence,” Aemond mutters to himself as he dresses. “He thinks me weak. He thinks I am still a child.”

“Then he is a fool,” she says, still buried beneath the throw on the bed.

“My mother and grandfather seized the throne, now they will not do what needs to be done to hold it.”

“Perhaps they fear what a war might bring.”

Aemond tuts. “The first blood has been drawn.”

“Do you not…” she pauses when he looks at her, his eye wide, anticipating something he will not wish to hear. “What if Rhaenyra comes for you? What if she seeks vengeance for her son?”

Aemond smiles like he has a secret and stalks slowly towards the bed, her stomach tightening in anticipation. 

In some ways, Aemond terrifies her. He has a presence of danger and bloodlust which fades away when she peels away the layers of his leathers. Without his eyepatch, in the warmth of the candlelight, he is the picture of Valyrian beauty, a man who belongs in histories and legends, not the living, breathing realm she exists in. 

He leans into her, taking her chin between his fingers to kiss her. She relishes it for as long as she can, knowing it won’t be enough to charm him back into the bed.

He pulls away, reaching into his pocket for a purse of coins. “Let her try,” he says as he places it beside her, “but I will not be easily ended.”

The girls all share chambers, bedrooms and a washroom with basins and baths. She rises early in the morning to bathe, to drop her lavender and rosemary oils into the tub and scrub away the remnants of last night. Before, she would not allow herself to fall asleep until she was clean. Lately she finds an odd sense of comfort in the reminders of her royal patron. Her skin is littered with love bites and bruises, her neck, her collar, her breasts. It shouldn’t be like this. Usually she does what she can to forget the men she has been with.

They share their duties. This morning she is to help wash the bed linens, and find cheap grain and cuts of meat from the markets.   

The clothes she wears are modest, covering her arms and her neck, unflattering to her figure. Some people still eye her with disgust, with hatred. You can always spot a whore. What can strangers know of her? Can they see through her skin and see her sins as the gods judge them all from the seven heavens? It was not as if she had chosen this path for herself out of an endless number of possibilities. 

Sometimes she remembers the life she had before, a woman’s laugh, a particular taste on her tongue, a tune humming in the back of her mind she can’t quite piece together. She used to think the gods had forsaken her, but now she thinks they do not concern themselves with the lives of people like her. So she finds little point in looking to the past, of imagining a future for herself. She survives and that is enough.

Summer is nearing its end. There is no warmth to be found in sunlight obscured by clouds. People walk quickly, keeping their belongings in deathly grips. A woman with a babe in her arms begs the baker to accept one copper instead of five for a loaf of bread. A man despairs that the apothecaries cannot offer him a medicinal herb from Lys for his sickly daughter. The shipping lanes are blocked by the Velaryon Fleet holding the Gullet, and no ship can get in or out of King’s Landing. A woman cries for her son, a rat catcher, his body hanging from the walls of the Red Keep. 

She gets what she needs to, grain she will bring back to the kitchens for the cook to turn into plain tasting flatbread. A butcher sells her tough cuts of beef for a reasonable price to go into a stew. He worries that there have been no imports of salt or sugar. How is the city meant to preserve food for the fast approaching winter? 

“It’s the fucking war,” he grumbles, “why can’t the King just burn the ships so the rest of us can eat?”

In the distance she hears drums, the clatter of horse hooves against the cobbles. She keeps her basket tightly on her arm, not stopping to make eye contact with the people she passes, past the stalls, mules, the buckets of sewage and dirty water falling from windows above her head.

As she emerges from one of the side streets her way is suddenly blocked by masses of people. She had guessed some sort of procession was afoot. This is no celebration, it is lamentation. People weep and wail around her, a mass mourning that she does not understand, and yet she feels it in her chest and behind her eyes, an urge to cry.

Over the sea of bodies before her she sees two women in an open carriage, richly dressed with black veils over their faces. Petals fall from windows and footbridges. People cry the name of Queen Helaena and Dowager Queen Alicent. 

She finds a small ledge to lift herself onto at the base of a statue. What she sees could stop her heart. This is a funeral procession. Queen Helaena’s carriage follows the body of her son, wrapped in a green and gold shroud, with flowers woven into his white hair. For a moment she tells herself the boy is an effigy, that he could be made from wax or porcelain. 

“Behold the work of Rhaenyra Targaryen!”

The whispers follow her as she scurries back to the pleasure house. The Prince was slain in his sleep. Two assassins cut his head from his body. They made his mother and twin sister watch. 

Bile rises in her throat as she hands cook the cuts of meat, blood seeping through the wrappings. She swallows it down.

When Aemond comes to her that night he is more subdued than usual. He pulls her into his arms and she strokes her hand over his hair.

“My nephew is dead,” he utters. He sheds no tears, he seems confused more than anything.

Rhaenyra’s retribution had come then, swift and brutal, a son for a son. 

She undresses him but he leans away when she tries to kiss him. They lie back on the bed and Aemond settles his head on her shoulder.

“My brother is in a rage and wants Rhaenyra dead. My sister has not left her rooms; I tried to go to her but she would not speak to me,” he says.

“How did it happen?”

“There were two. One was a gold cloak. They found him at the gate of the gods with Jaehaerys’ head in a sack. He confessed the other was a rat catcher.” 

Now the bodies of a hundred men hang by their necks, though only one of them is guilty.

“Daemon sent them to kill me,” Aemond says, “but I was out.”

She rests her fingers at the pulsepoint on his wrist to remind herself his heart is still beating. “You were with me,” she says. She feels the guilt weighing in her chest. While she and Aemond had kissed and fucked and held each other, a boy had a lost his life, the very body she had seen paraded through the streets.

“In truth I am proud that he considers me such a foe, that he would seek to murder me in my bed.”

She cannot tell if she admires him for it or not, to gamble with life as though it means nothing.

Aemond is watching her, his hair loose and framing his face. “Do you think he fears me?”

She has never seen Aemond wield a blade. She’s never seen him ride his dragon, not up close. She’s never seen him fight with his fists. She’s never seen him slur his words and throw away threats in a drunken argument. He is always composed. He is always softly spoken, and in a way that terrifies her more than it should. They say the blood of the dragon runs hot. Aemond’s blood does not seem to burn, rather it simmers under the surface of his skin. 

“Perhaps he fears what else you might be capable of.”

Aemond is the closest she has ever seen him to tears. His eyelashes are damp and heavy, his seeing eye vibrantly blue and glassy. “You think me a monster,” he utters.

She could never say it, could she? But this is a man who took the life of his own kin as a reparation for his eye. Violence is carved into his face, beautiful, set with a gemstone, but it is there nonetheless. 

She brushes her fingertips over his cheek and plants a delicate kiss to his lips. After only a few moments he shrugs her off and repositions himself, curling into her lap like a child, clinging to her limbs and the fabric of her gown. 

“I lost my temper that day,” he says. “I should have known Vhagar would not relent. I am sorry for it.”

Her blood runs cold. Should she be glad to hear he is remorseful? He may not be a cold hearted killer, but destruction lives at his fingertips. 

She reaches for his hand and he takes it. His touch is gentle and hesitant. “There was no justice in what happened to you,” she says, “blood has paid for blood…” but where does it end? With Lucerys? With Jaehaerys? With the next?

Aemond says nothing. She feels his tears slip onto her legs, his fingernails forming crescents in her skin.

Remorse will not return Rhaenyra’s son to her, it will not bring back the little Prince paraded through the streets of King’s Landing.

She clings to him, hoping she can ease whatever torment plagues him, and banish what darkness consumes him.

She never tires of the sight of him. His body bare, his hair tied away from his face, the uneven edges of his sapphire glinting in the lowlight, laid out beneath her. She runs her hands over his chest, tracing the lines that are familiar to her now. “I want to taste you,” she says sweetly, knowing he’ll already be desperate for her. 

He hums quietly to himself. By the slight smile threatening to break in the corners of his mouth, she knows he is content.

“On your knees then,” he says, and positions himself to sit at the end of the bed.

She runs her tongue over his length first, finishing with a teasing lick at the tip where he’s already weeping. She takes him into her mouth gradually, pushing a little deeper with every bob of her head. He is her Prince, he takes his pleasure from her and holds her hair from her face but it is she who sets the pace, who revels in his moans as his mind lulls. 

But he pulls her head away by her hair before he finishes. Suddenly she’s on her back and he’s kneeling over her with his fist moving furiously over his cock. He reaches for her breast and squeezes. In the morning when she bathes, she’ll look at the bruises and remember how he touches her. Her own had slips between her legs, tracing circles over her pearl at the thought.

This pleases Aemond. His brow hardens and his jaw falls. “Fuck, are you going to finish with me?” he whispers.

She nods in reply, her breath catching as a whimper in her throat. 

His grip on her breast tightens. She winces at the pain and it only fuels her own pleasure. She succumbs to her senses, chasing the feeling in her gut that only wants for release. Her fingers work frantically over her wet and wanting cunt.

“Make yourself come for me, that’s it,”

She obeys him with a cry, her body reduced to a shaking, dazed mess as Aemond reaches his own end. She watches his seed spurt from his cock, warm as it paints her skin.

He has habits, she’s noticed. He does not spill inside her. Of course, with the nature of the establishment there is no shortage of moontea, but she never questions him when he removes himself. He prefers to see it on her skin. 

Targaryen bastards are not uncommon in King’s Landing, commoners with silver hair. It is said Prince Aegon himself has sired many on the women of Fleabottom. Perhaps the idea is distasteful to Prince Aemond. He is discreet. He does not bring drinking companions with him to the pleasure house and he keeps his hood up as he enters and exits. 

He takes a cloth and wipes his seed from her skin. She bites back another jolt of anticipation in her spine. She would take more from him, but instead he lies beside her, curling into her embrace, tucking his head into her chest. 

He could fuck her quickly and be done with it, it would be more efficient. He could take a different girl each time. He could have one brought up to the castle. Yet since the day of the King’s Coronation he has found his way into her arms to her each night. In these quiet moments she lets herself think there is a reason for it.

They trace their fingertips over each other’s skin and he tells her things she shouldn’t know, that the King has named a new Hand in Ser Criston Cole, that while Queen Alicent seeks to avoid open war, Aegon wants to fly headfirst into it.

“It’s not his place. He’ll not stand a chance against Meleys or Caraxes.”

The names are strange to her. Sometimes it feels like a cruel joke, a reminder that some Silk Street whore is not meant to understand the realm he exists in. Other times it feels like an honour, like he’s gifted her a part of himself, a glimpse into his mind.

“He is no warrior, but he wishes to live up to his namesake. He wants for glory alone; it is a reckless pursuit but he would risk his life for it.”

“He is the King, is it not his war to fight?” she says. 

“He is not capable of it,” Aemond says, “but I…”

It is not a thought he dares to finish.

King Aegon wears the crown of the Conqueror, or so people say. She’s never seen a real crown. She’s seen paper ones worn by the mummers in the square, and she’s seen girls wearing wreaths of flowers on their heads for the festival of spring. They are only delicate things. Real crowns are made of gold, silver and steel. As Aemond’s eye flutters shut he looks divinely peaceful, but unsettled where his sapphire continues to stare at her. She pictures a crown of spring flowers fashioned from steel and imagines it upon her Prince’s brow.

Footsteps thud upon the stone floor, too close to the curtain, closer than anyone should dare to come near. She lifts her head as it’s drawn back.

It takes a moment for them all to realise what’s happening. Several faces stare at her– at Aemond. One of the men has silver hair, shorter and choppier than Aemond’s. He bares his teeth as he grins.

She sees a flash of fury in Aemond’s face as he turns to face them.

The silver haired man starts to laugh, the sound shrill and unpleasant. His friends do not join him. “Aemond the fierce!” he cries, pointing, staring.

Ameond parts himself from her instantly. He retreats as far as the edge of the bed, hunched over himself, his knees in the crooks of his elbows. He keeps his head hung, not looking at the men and the leader of their pack. He does not look at her, he does not look at anything. 

She sees the child he once was, frightened and confused. 

The man staggers towards the bed, clearly half out of his mind by the smell of wine drifting from him when he perches on the bed. On instinct she covers her breasts, devastated to realise her robe is out of reach.

“And here I thought you were as chaste as a fucking septon! You know,” he says to his companions, “I brought him here for his first too. And how far you’ve come, curled in the arms of a whore like a greenboy!”

There’s a bite to his– the King’s words, a cruelty that only makes Aemond shrink further into himself. Her heart aches for him, that she cannot help him. 

“Are you tired, brother? Did you fuck her like a hound?” An idea he emphasises with an impersonation of a hunting dog.

Aemond doesn’t move or speak.

Still in hysterics, Aegon turns his gaze to her, unashamedly lingering on her chest and her legs. “Hard luck for your squire, Ser Martyn,” he says, drawing his tongue over his lips, “as pretty as this one is, she is very much occupied.”

His laughter is the only sound in the chamber and it pierces her skull. 

Aemond starts to shift. Helplessly she reaches out her hand, unsure of what it is she intends to do. He doesn’t take it. He doesn’t even look at her.

He stands before the King and his companions. His humiliation has melted away. In the place of the boy is a man who speaks calmly and clearly. “Your squire is welcome to her. One whore is as good as another.”

He strides from the chamber and she is entirely forgotten.

Or so she wishes that were true. There are still four men in her midst. And she is still, for all the hours she has spent in Aemond’s company, a whore in a pleasure house. 

I've kinda given up on taglists, sorry <3

A/n: I'm quite happy with this! I've been playing with the idea in my head for a few weeks, then I saw episodes 2 and 3 and it just had to happen. Would be very cool if you wanted to let me know what you think :)

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

CASUAL pt.2— lando norris (angst)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: it took lando too long to realise it wasn't just 'casual'. warnings: a LOT of angst, toxic relationship, sexual implication, not proofread a/n: casual part 2 was not really a part of the plan but the audience had demands 🦧also i think this was too long lmao. AND IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG DELAY OMG

part 1 - casual

miami grand prix: the biggest pr nightmare for every driver—especially lando norris.

the media had been all over him that weekend, going to the lengths of literally calling him 'the hottest catch on the single market'. hollywood stars and instagram models were so desperate to marry him and have his kids that they didn't catch on the fact that he was a 23-year-old racing driver who couldn't give a fuck about them.

because he was stuck on you.

for weeks, he'd waited—hoping you’d reach out, or at the very least, watch his instagram stories. he posted shirtless photos, sun-kissed photos—hell, he even threw out a thirst trap just for you. But you didn’t take the bait. you didn't take the fucking bait.

you hadn't texted him or spoken to him since the moment you walked out of that hotel room weeks ago, so he didn't try to reach out either. "would've been a blow to my ego," he'd told sainz.

but now, he didn't give a shit about his ego. he was tired of waiting.

his eyes darted across the packed club, friends and guests scattered all around. he couldn't wait to get out of there.

he hadn't been drinking. didn't really feel like it. truth be told, he hadn’t been feeling much of anything at all.

pool parties, clubs, yachts, champagne and girls.

he was tired of the glitz and glam of his life, and you were the only escape from it.

but you were gone.

his mind wandered to that morning, when you had kissed him and the two of you had ordered room service. when he had held you for the last time.

he hated how the only thing on his mind was you. how it was the only thing on his mind all through the celebrations, as hookers danced around him and people tried to pour drinks into his mouth.

for fuck's sake, he had won a grand prix for the first time in his life, and yet he was unhappy.

how did he get here?

he looked up, eyes falling on a group of men in the VIP section, the lights illuminating their faces.

everyone could tell something was off with lando. he didn't want to do any of this.

all he wanted was you. you, you, you.

the girl who had left without an explanation.

why had you left, anyway? no calls, no texts. your friends avoided him, and you avoided his friends. it was like the two of you were nothing.

lando norris was many things, but he was not a fool. he could recognise when something was wrong, or when a situation had escalated beyond his control.

he knew that there was a reason why you left, but the reason never clicked in that thick brain of his. what had he done wrong? where had he gone wrong?

"i'm not feeling too well, mate." he muttered, handing the beer bottle back to the guy standing next to him.

okay, maybe not admitting his feelings for you had fucked things up. but, what could you expect? he didn't have the time to give you what you deserved.

not right now, at least.

lando norris had the world on his fingertips. he could have any girl he wanted. anyone, really.

"what are you waiting for, then?" the other man asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"what?"

"just call her, bro. i know it's about a girl because there's no way any sane man would say no to expensive beers and a million hot hookers."

did lando even know this man? probably not.

"i can't call her. she doesn't want to talk to me. trust me, i've tried."

"have you?"

he didn't know how to deal with rejection. not like this, not with you. you weren't supposed to leave.

"judging by your sulkiness, i doubt you're going to find a girl like her again. and you'll never have her if you're here."

lando didn't have a heart of stone, as much as his social media persona might suggest. he didn't care for any of this. the women, the money, the fame.

he wanted to hold you again. kiss you, tell you he loves you. he wanted to hold your hand. he wanted to be near you, and only you.

so, when his feet hit the floor and he found himself walking towards the exit, he wasn't surprised.

yeah, it was foolish of him to leave a party full of women who were celebrating him (literally) for a girl who had ghosted him, but the need was stronger than his pride.

out of the yacht, he was dialling the only number he'd ever memorised. the phone rang, and then it rang again.

would she be wearing his clothes, or would she have gotten rid of everything related to him?

maybe she'd found another man, finally realising that lando was a bad investment.

as the phone rang, you were hidden in your apartment with blankets wrapped around you and a youtube video playing in the background.

it had been months since you'd heard the word 'casual' leave his mouth. months since you had fled london and monaco to move to miami.

at first, his words had echoed in your mind constantly, and you'd cried yourself to sleep a few times more than you'd like to admit.

but just like every heartbroken poet in history, the hurt faded and the pain slowly morphed into hatred. and anger.

you wanted to slam your head against a wall. scratch that, you wanted to slam his head against a wall.

it was so stupid, and you hated yourself for believing he'd been genuine.

it was just sex. that's all it ever was. it truly was just casual.

the phone was still ringing. your finger hesitated over the answer button. you weren't going to answer it.

it wasn't worth it. you didn't want to hear his voice. didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that his words had hurt you. you didn't want to know if he was sleeping around, if his girlfriends were prettier than you.

so the line went dead.

lando stood by the harbour, watching as yachts and ships sailed past him. the air was humid and his t-shirt clung to his body, the heat almost unbearable. the sound of waves, the distant laughter and music, and the sound of his ragged breaths.

he ran his fingers through his hair, looking around. where was his car?

he had to find his way back to his hotel. he was a mess, and his clothes were sticking to his skin. he needed to fix his appearance, buy a bouquet a flowers.

he checked the time on his watch, and cursed as he saw the numbers. it was almost 3 am. he wouldn't find flowers anywhere at 3 am.

"fuck it." he said, running over to his car. the drive was quiet, save for the low hum of music and his occasional swearing when someone drove a little bit slower than he'd like.

lando norris had the world on his fingertips. he could have any girl he wanted. anyone, really. but he only wanted you. he was a hopeless romantic, and you were his muse.

when he pulled up outside the apartment, his nerves were going haywire. he ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before getting out of the car.

he knocked twice on the door and when it opened, his eyes lit up.

you stared back at him, sleepiness in your eyes and confusion etched on your face.

and god, did you look gorgeous.

he loved you, he realised. he had to cross his hands behind his back to stop them from reaching out and holding you close.

"lando?" you breathed out.

he had grown a slight stubble since you last saw him. his hair were still the same, except a little bit longer. his blue eyes were wide as he looked at you.

"hey," his voice was shaky.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

he wanted to say so many things. ask you why you left, where it went wrong, why you moved to miami. he wanted to declare his love for you, press his lips to yours, hold you by the waist. he wanted to hear you say that you loved him too.

he was so in love with you, and you had no idea.

"lando? why are you here?" you asked again.

he was at a loss of words. what could he say? he couldn't exactly just stand there and say nothing.

"because," his voice cracked, "i miss you."

your throat went dry. he could not just say that.

it had been weeks. weeks of him not contacting you, weeks of you not speaking to him. the phone calls had stopped, the text messages had stopped, the late night chats had stopped. everything was just gone.

and now, he missed you?

tears welled up in your eyes, a lump forming in your throat. you shook your head, pushing back the tears, "go away."

"what? no, wait. wait. don't do this." he pleaded, his voice fragile and desperate, like a child trying to avoid bedtime.

"lando-"

he interrupted you, voice louder than before. "can we please talk about this?"

"what is there to talk about?" you were raising your voice. you hated him. how could he act like this after all that happened?

"everything. just—please, can i come in?" he sounded so pathetic. he felt so pathetic. his hands were slightly hovering over the door, ready to push it open and walk in.

the request took you by surprise. "i-no."

you missed him. there was no denying that.

you wanted him to tell you it was okay. wanted to go back to that night in his mclaren, the night he told you he liked you. wanted the weekends spent in london with his family. you wanted him, all of him.

his curly hair wrapped around your fingers, blue eyes staring at you, soft lips kissing you. his cold hands grabbing yours, and his voice saying your name. you wanted it to not be casual.

"i just want to talk to you."

he was drunk. there was no other way he would've showed up here, let alone begged to talk to you. the fact that he needed to be drunk to have this conversation made your blood boil.

"do you still have my jacket?"

of course, you still had his stupid jacket. the one that had his smell embedded into the fabric. it was an exclusive print mclaren had given him, and he had swung it around your shoulders after the night you had first made love to each other.

but he didn't care about the jacket, and neither did you. it was just a reminder.

you were silent for a while, taking in the sight of each other. it was his breath mingling with yours.

"i love you." he whispered.

your breath hitched in your throat, the tears finally falling out of your eyes as you sighed.

"i love you," he repeated to himself. "yes, i do. and i've known that since the day i met you."

you choked back sobs as you shook your head, "you're drunk, lando."

"i'm not," he chuckled, "maybe a little, but not enough."

then, he added, "i mean it. i love you." his voice was steady. he truly meant every word. but he didn't know what would happen now.

"what do you want me to say, lando?"

he sighed, "anything."

you laughed bitterly. anything, he said.

anything would've been better than what had happened.

"i don't think i can do this, lando."

"we can take it slow."

"you've never done slow."

he fell silent again because you were right. he'd never done slow. he didn't know how to take things slow. he was a fucking formula 1 driver, after all. slow wasn't something he did. he'd always lived life like it was the last day. and that's how he had lost you.

"i'm sorry," he began, his voice breaking. "i should've been a better person. i'm sorry for everything i did. i should've given you more, i-i should've loved you more, because you deserve so much more. i'm so, so, sorry."

"lando," you whispered, "it's not—"

"don't make excuses for me, please. i love you, i realy do. and if i have to spend the rest of my life proving that, i will." and he meant every word. "i just want you back."

your mind was racing, a million thoughts running through it. it was like a movie. his blue eyes, his voice, the desperation in his tone, the way he stood before you.

"okay," you muttered.

"wait, okay? does that mean—"

"you're gonna have to work for this," you said.

"i know, and i will. i promise."

you sighed, rubbing your temple. this wasn't a good idea. "get in."

lando's face lit up, and before you could change your mind, he had walked into the apartment. he hadn't really been here before, considering you moved here after the two of you had stopped talking. but the apartment was lovely, homely. everything you.

you closed the door behind him, watching him look around the living room.

"how'd you know where i live?"

he chuckled, turning to face you. "i'm a famous driver. i have my sources."

"i'm sure." a tense silence followed, neither of you knowing what to say.

"i'm not letting this happen again," he blurted, "i'm not. i don't know how, but i won't."

"i don't believe you." you scoffed.

"fuck, baby, what do i have to do for you to believe me?" he stepped towards you, closing the distance.

"stop calling me that."

"you are my baby." he tried to joke.

"lando, i'm not joking."

"i'm serious too," his voice was sincere, "i love you, and i'll do whatever it takes for you to believe me."

you had been through a lot together. the highs, the lows. you had seen him at his best, and at his worst. the good and the bad.

he moved closer, reaching a hand out to hold yours. you didn't know why, but the moment his hand touched yours, it was like a switch had flipped inside of you.

you let his hand wander over yours like a ghost, his calloused fingertips tracing over your knuckles. he intertwined your fingers together, eyes casted down.

"i've never cared about anyone the way i care about you." he admitted in a soft voice.

and then he pressed his lips to yours. his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

and god, did he taste the same. lando had a way with his lips. it was a talent. he kissed you like he needed your lips to survive. he was desperate for your touch as if he had been starving without it.

you were so lost in the feeling that you hadn't realised how far you had pushed him until the back of his knees hit the couch, and he fell on top of it.

his eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, exposing his chest and toned abs.

the two of you stared at each other, eyes searching the other's.

"i love you." he murmured for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

maybe it was the way his blue eyes bore into yours, or the way his lips quivered, or maybe it was the fact that he had driven across the city to say this.

but for the first time that night, you believed him. suddenly, the anger was gone. it was all gone.

"i love you, too." you whispered.

it was the only thing the two of you needed. the confirmation, the reassurance. the love.

you leaned down and connected your lips once more, hand reaching up to his curls and tugging lightly. he moaned into the kiss, pulling you on top of him.

your tongue entered his mouth, the taste of him making you lightheaded. his hands roamed over your body, the feeling of his skin against yours.

"baby," he whispered between kisses, "i want you so bad. i've waited so long."

his lips trailed along your jaw and down your neck, sucking marks into the sensitive skin.

"i want you," he murmured against the crook of your neck, "so fucking bad."

but he pulled away, flipping the two of you over so he was on top of you. he took off his shirt, and rested his head on your chest. he cleared his throat, "i should've asked this question earlier, but are you single?"

"yeah." you chuckled, running a hand through his curls.

"so, can i be your boyfriend?"

"lando norris," you hummed, "did you finally get the guts to ask me out?"

"yes," he smiled, lifting his head up to look at you, "yes, i did. will you be my girlfriend?"

"you're a dork."

"that's not an answer."

"yes," you laughed, "yes, i'll be your girlfriend."

lando grinned, and you grinned back.

it wasn't casual anymore.

(u guys im so sorry if i've tagged someone who doesnt want to be tagged i just had no idea how to let non-followers know part 2 is out bcs tumblr is not letting me reply to comments😭if anyone wants their tag removed, feel free to dm me!! i hope u liked this) @oscarpiassrri @meglouise00 @f1fantasys @technicallypleasanttree @ggaslyp1 @obxstiles @nataliambc @prudyhoo @idkwtdwml123 @ushygushybaby @emilyroxy @yootvi @fishingarden @pillowprincess4him @herexpertcollector

[ivy-elle]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Part 1 ft. Scaramouche, Childe, Diluc, Xiao

Scaramouche

Jealousy?

Tsk. Please.

Don’t flatter yourself.

Do you really think someone like him would ever succumb to a pathetic sentiment such as “jealousy”?

If someone threatens to take what is his, that person simply ceases to exist.

There. Done.

Why would it ever bother him if you’ve found a new friend among his men?

He does not have time for such trivial matters.

He knows that person is not able to make you feel the way Scaramouche does. Not in the slightest.

What can they even offer you?

Time? Attention? A pathetic attempt at making you laugh?

Ridiculous

Just because Scaramouche hasn’t been able to be with you as much as he wanted to, doesn’t mean-

Now they’re pulling you into an embrace? The sheer audacity to do this with him in the room.

Are they truly that desperate?

No, while Scaramouche trusts you not to be foolish enough to embarrass yourself in that way, he has pride and a reputation to maintain.

And right now, his pride is flaming up.

He is seething.

He confronts them when they’re alone and makes things pretty clear.

Have they forgotten who he is?

“Oh, you really think you have a chance? How amusing. Know your place, or should I remind you of it again?.”

Childe

Oh, best believe this man here is protective af

Borderline possessive, even

Yet, he too, has enough faith in you not to taint the honour or your relationship in any way

So, he sometimes allows himself - for his own entertainment of course - to watch from afar as the guy puts his moves on you

Childe delights himself in the way you reject the guy’s antics in your own charming way

But when it becomes clear that the guy isn’t planning on backing off, Childe’s temper flares up, and he’d enrapture in the opportunity to put the dude in his place

Wouldn’t be above straight up making out with you then and there, just to prove his point

Would then proceed to look at the guy with a broad smile, an undeniable menace behind his eyes

“Hey there, comrade. 😄 Mind knocking it off a bit?”

Diluc

His jealousy is more often displayed as annoyance or irritation

But at the same time he maintains his stoic, yet dignified composure

Like during one of his shifts in Angel’s Share, if he notices someone flirting with you at the bar

He respects your independence, and recognises that you are capable of defending yourself and setting your own boundaries

However, that wouldn’t stop him from letting some passive-aggressiveness slip out

May it be if he places the ordered drink just a tad too loudly in front of the man, causing him to jump slightly

Or he might declare that their usual order is out of stock today, only to serve it to the next customer right in front of the man’s eyes

Yet, Diluc would keep a watchful eye on you, ready to intervene if you seemed uncomfortable or silently asking for his help

Xiao

With Xiao, jealousy takes shape in a less conventional manner

It’s neither hot, nor cold. It doesn’t burn, nor does it hurt

Not the way he wished it would at least

Rather when he spots you in merry company with a friend, a companion or a nice chat with a traveller from afar

He is greeted with a deep routed sense of guilt.

Not every time of course, but enough to cause a pit of self-hatred to add to his long list of faults in his character

Over the course of your time together, you have become quite attached to him, you loved him even

A concept he thought to have long forgotten

But your humans’ emotions are blinding you. Clearly. They have to.

While the world is out there, waiting for you to step out, calling your name

You choose to stay by his side

Instead of taking on the freedom he couldn’t gift you, you are now sitting next to him by the river

Your reflections watching him quietly with a smile

No amount of almond tofu you make, could fill the dull ache he feels in the back of his mind when you seem to be so blind to your opportunities, your chances, your life

Instead of staying in a cage he traps you in.

And yet, whenever you set out with your other companions you always return to him.

In the end, he will be the one keeping watch over your sleep in his bed, and you will be the one waiting for him at dusk

“This is no golden cage for me, Xiao. You are the one gifting me my wings.”

[lilacxquartz]

part 1 of 19 of kinktober: free use

satoru gojo x reader — suguru geto x reader

plot: you had a unique arrangement with your two roommates — themes: vaguely dub con due to the implications, smut, oral, kitchen sex, f!reader — w.c: ~1k

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

Life spent in the apartment you shared with Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto was often peaceful enough, at least for the most part. Although unconventional, in order to keep the rent on your end free, you had a unique sort of arrangement between the two of them but then again, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

One evening in particular, you were lazily stirring away at some cookie batter for a friend’s birthday the next day, not quite hearing the featherlight footsteps that were actively closing in on you from behind.

It was sudden, but you felt a taller body pressed right up against your own, walking you straight into the counter and caging you in with firmly planted hands, anchoring themselves on parallel sides with the pushing sensation of their arousal pressing right onto you. Quickly recognising the silvery arm hair that lined up his limbs, you understood that this was Satoru—and given by just how longingly he pushed himself towards you—he must have been surely stressed.

You arched your back in heated anticipation, tiptoeing ever so slightly to give him access of what awaited just below your skirt. Albeit carefully, you swept the clutter on the counter over to the side to make room for when you would be inevitably bent over it and holding on for dear life.

Satoru’s voice was hot against your neck, rolling wisping shivers that pricked goosebumps down your flesh, “Aw, you’re so excited and I haven’t even started yet.”

You smiled a little, feeling already so needy and desperate to feel him inside of you. It didn’t take him too long for him to drop down his trousers and to hitch your skirt up before bending your body flat over the surface. Already rock hard, he guided his cock clean into your soaked entrance, groaning slightly as your core swallowed him up entirely in enveloping warmth.

Satoru’s hands locked directly onto your hips, rocking into you with a quickly increasing tempo. The speed and crashing impact combined felt so intense that your breath was lost in the moment, reducing you to a mantra of shuddering, gasping moans.

“You’re s’good for me,” he hurriedly murmured, smacking his palm against your ass, squeezing his fingers tight into the pillowy curve for almost possessive comfort.

Such enthusiastic fervour had your knees melting and weak as he continued to piston his hips away, almost violently driving himself into your hilt. His length reached deep, the tip spearing right where it hurt upon each bucking thrust. Wanting to feel you writhe and squirm, Satoru reached his hand to claw at your hair—tugging, pulling at the strands—forcing you to surrender into desperate, quivering whimpers.

“I’m close,” he warned. Satoru didn’t like to finish alone however, so he slammed himself against you with almost savage force—snaking his hand forward and propping his thumb against your clit—running hungry circles to will you to catch up.

The second that he felt you coil and clench around him, his eyes fluttered with anticipation as he too, chased his desperate release. With one final needy pump, a rolling guttural groan spilled from his lips, shuddering as he emptied himself fully into your cunt.

Pulling himself back, Satoru finally let go before taking a step aside, watching his milky release drip out of your spent hole. “You’re always so good to me,” he praised, tousling your now messed up hair before leaning back in, still not quite ready to part from you, “so fucking good.”

~~~

The following night when Satoru was fast asleep, you were up late to revise because you were pretty sure that your college had an exam tomorrow. You were however on and off falling asleep at the desk, your demeanour tense from rising stress.

In your drowsy state, you hadn’t quite noticed how Suguru had entered your room, sneaking up beside you and closing the distance. You tilted your head back to spot him looming over you with a half lidded look, his otherwise brooding demeanour betrayed by a faint blush that bled across his cheeks.

“I’m bored,” he purred, affectionately tugging at your hair to turn you to look at him. Although his tone was surely indifferent, his eyes lingered with almost possessive care.

And before you could even respond, he took a step closer towards you, reeling you inwards over his ever so slightly exposed stomach. With a needy tone, he whispered out a slight plea, wanting nothing more than your attention on him, “I want you.”

Understanding exactly what he meant, you gently nodded and relaxed your stance. Suguru began by unbuttoning and zipping down his jeans, allowing them to drop to his ankles. His arousal was already prominent enough and his cock sprung out as soon as he slid his boxers down.

“You know what to do,” he murmured in a lazy tone, his purple eyes slightly widening in heated impatience from watching your mouth part open. Suguru then slightly parted his legs, leaning closer to position the tip of his throbbing length over your lips before driving in his shaft over the slick curve of your tongue, rolling back his eyes as the head hit the back of your throat.

“God,” he hissed, choking back a grating moan as he pulled out slowly. With a greedy hand, he weaved his fingers around your hair—cupping your skull to both steady himself and to help guide your head—bobbing you along to keep up with his building need.

He could never last too long with you, but that didn’t stop him from trying to savour the moment as much as he could. His hips moved in languid thrusts, feeling the rising pleasure surface and gather, soon ready to milk himself dry.

Tensing up ever so slightly, he stiffened after one final needy push; emptying hot spurts of white ropes of his cum into your awaiting mouth. Your eyes bulged slightly from the climbing intensity, spilling tears from the rushed release.

For just a moment, Suguru stared down at you after pulling out; his face tinted cherry red at the sight of you being perfectly flustered, almost feeling the need rise within him again, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to last nearly as long—but that much was nothing new.

[vitaminkyeom]

telephone || k.mg

“NOW IT'S TIME FOR ME TO RETURN THE FAVOUR”

PAIRING || Mingyu x Female Reader

GENRES || Horror, 911 Operator!Mingyu, Romance

SUMMARY ||  Working the night shift as a 911 operator was hard as it is and the last thing Mingyu needed was those calls from his ex-girlfriend. Whom he had not seen in years. For obvious reasons of her being dead.

Or, in which, Mingyu kept getting calls from his ex girlfriend claiming that she had murdered him.

SERIES MASTERLIST || till death do us part

WARNINGS || inaccurate 911 stuff, description of murdered body, horror, mention of murder and ghost

WORD COUNT || 3k

A/N || If you recognise this story, no you don't. but anyways this was one of my most favourite works even though i'm not that great at writing horror so i'm really glad i'm starting off with this story for the series. i've tried my best to make it as scary as i could (sorry but im a pussy) so yeah any feedback would be really helpful!

TAGLIST || @monamipencil @nonuify @black-swan-blog27 @hipsdofangirl @wonuilu @kibs-and-bits @unlikelysublimekryptonite @gyuguys @hanicore @alyssng @hyneyedfiz @weebotakuboy @aaniag @thepoopdokyeomtouched @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @sea-moon-star @hrts4hanniehae @athanasiasakura @doubleshoticedshakenespresso @asasilentreader @isabellah29 @mrswonwooo @nonononranghaee @hoichi02 @cheolsboo @dinossaurz @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @tinkerbell460 @bluewbwerry @hoeforcheol @kawennote09 @iamawkwardandshy @winterbeartaehyungbestboy ​ @jjeongddol @k-drama-adict @mnstxmnbb @stervahaha @escoupseu @wonvsmile @mansaaay [if you want to be added to my taglist please fill in this form!]

“911, please state your emergency.”

Static. He waited for a minute more but there still wasn’t any sound coming from the other side.

Mingyu sighed exasperatedly, sure that this was another prank call. Halloween night was looming close which also meant teenagers found it funny to call the operators up at night to scare them.

But he was used to this. Which was funny because Mingyu was the biggest scaredy cat in his group and could not even watch Scooby Doo without whimpering at least once. But he took his responsibilities very seriously and there was no way he was going to let his fear come in the middle of his work.

He was about to hang up the call when he heard a sound. Immediately he jerked back the phone to his ear and strained them to hear anything, but all he could hear was a buzzing sound.

“Hello? How can I help-”

“Help.”

He inhaled sharply, the woman’s raspy voice very clear in the empty office. Mingyu was the only one serving night shift in his floor currently, and the only thing accompanying him was the soft beeping on the seven screens in front of him and the buzzing of the fluorescent tube lights above him.

“Ma'am, are you in a position to tell me what is happening?”

His fingers flew across the keyboard, noting down the number first and then quickly texting the other department to find out the location of the call.

“Pl-please help. Make him stop.” The woman whispered,  her ragged breath harsh against his ears.

“Make whom stop? Can you tell me who is near to you, ma’am?”

Mingyu felt an unnatural calmness settle into his bones, one that always came whenever he forced himself to calm down in such situations.

A message dinged on one of his screens indicating that they had traced the nearest cell tower of the cell phone.

“Officer Lee.��� He said, already on the other line, talking to the nearest official he could see. “We have a 911 emergency of abuse.”

“Roger that. Address?”

“It's…” Mingyu’s voice trailed off on seeing the address. 

No way- How was that possible? There had to be some mistake right?

Because the address was of his house.

He cleared his throat, sure that the address was wrong since they tracked the nearest cell tower, and that could be kilometres away from the destination.

“Uh, the address shows my house. I… I think you need to be on the lookout for areas near my house.”

There was a pause, as though Seokmin seemed to be trying to process this information. Seokmin had been good friends with him, so Mingyu knew that even he found it odd, especially when his neighbourhood was a safe and nice one.

“On my way.”

“Ma’am,” Mingyu said, back to line one, “if you could tell me your name or your address, or even what is happening to you, I could help you out better.”

His eyes were trained to look at all the monitors at once, one monitoring the small dot that represented Seokmin heading towards the destination, another with a blank form about the caller and another one where he was rapidly typing what he was hearing, ready to call in other emergencies in case he heard something important.

“Help! Why don’t you help me? Please help!”

“Ma’am help is on the way, please calm down-”

He was interrupted by a loud pop as all the lights went out, the only source of light now being the soft glow of his computer screens. The room was now lit up eerily and he felt the hair on the nape of his neck rise up. Mingyu wasn’t very scared of the dark ever, but the growing sounds of gurgling and growling in the telephone line was causing shivers to travel down his spine.

“Mingyu…” The woman rasped, this time sounding like she had gargled razors, her screeching voice turning his blood to ice.

How did she know his name?

Goosebumps rose all over his skin as his breathing came out in sudden pants, feeling an icy invisible hand wrap around his neck. He sucked in a breath harshly and with a jolt, he realised how lonely he was, not a single soul on his floor whilst he was plunged in darkness.

Then the call cut off abruptly, and at the same time, the power surged back to life. 

Yet, the cold feeling hadn’t left Mingyu as though he could still hear the woman gargling in his ear.

“Mingyu?”

He jerked as the second line suddenly came to life, Seokmin’s voice clear through the landline.

“H-Hey. Did you find anything?” He tried his level best not to sound shaken, but it was hard because the more he tried to ignore wherever had just happened, the more the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach grew.

“Nothing. We will be needing to get a more specific address. Your entire apartment seems safe to me. Is she still on the line?”

Mingyu exhaled harshly, rubbing his chest with his hand to calm down his heart that was beating too fast. He then realised how dry his throat had become, and quickly took a sip of water before continuing.

“No. She cut the call. I- uh, I don’t think she needs help anymore. She sounded alright at the end.” He said, wincing having to lie. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling of horror he had felt when he saw his own address flash on to the screen.

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t we follow the protocol still-”

“She told me so herself.” Mingyu snapped, and Seokmin shut up, not saying anything more.

He sighed, rubbing his template, trying to forget what he had just heard. But it was like the noise had been ingrained into his brain. He could hear it even now, even though there were many other small sounds beside him.

But being a 911 operator, there was bound to be such horrors, right? He had heard some similar stories of ghost calls from his superiors. Maybe this was one of them?

“Well then…I suppose that’s it huh?” Seokmin cut the silence, causing Mingyu to flinch as he jumped out of his thoughts. “Are you calling it a night?”

Mingyu felt his heart leap to his throat.

Calling it a night? On any other day, he would have loved to crash on to his bed but all of a sudden going back to his house, the place where this lady claimed to be at, seemed like a distant nightmare, something which was waiting for him to tear him apart.

“Uh, n-no. I’ll continue my shift I think. Besides, Seungcheol won’t wake up if I call him now.”

“Hey, are you okay?” Seokmin asked, concern lacing his voice. “You sound…scared.”

“I’m fine.” Mingyu swallowed thickly, feeling a patch of sweat that had formed on his forehead as he tried rubbing his temples.

“We’ve dealt with these before, right?” Seokmin asked again, trying to sound bolder for his sake.

“Y-yeah. Yeah. We have. I’ll… hang up now.”

As soon as the phone went down, Mingyu buried his face in his hands, trying to forget the horrible sounds he had heard on the phone.

But the more he tried to forget them, the more he was convinced that they were no more voices in his head, but were coming from the room. It was almost like he could hear the noise coming from behind the door.

I’m probably just hearing things.

He got up and decided to get some fresh air. He walked to the door and paused, the sound still ringing in his ears. Clutching the door knob, he took in a deep breath and with his eyes screwed shut he turned it open, bracing himself for whatever lay ahead of his.

Silence greeted him as he slowly peeled his eyes open, looking around tentatively for anything that might jump on him out of the dark. 

Ding!

The sound of the elevator’s beep caused his heart to nearly stop, the sudden sound cutting through silent night that was almost engulfing him. He felt his entire body freeze as all he could do was watch the numbers on the screen of the lift increase until it reached his floor, limbs paralysed with fear. 

With another soft ding! the lift door began sliding open, and Mingyu found himself almost begging that he shouldn’t be greeted by someone, or something, once the lift door opened.

The dim blue light of the lift spilt out as Mingyu watched in terror, but to his relief only emptiness greeted him back. He looked at his own reflection in the mirror of the elevator. 

Mingyu looked deathly pale, his eyes tired and haggard like he had just seen a ghost. His cheeks were hollow and he felt his stomach lurch when his reflection wobbled, indicating that that the lift was about to close.

And then the lift shut close, leaving him alone with a pin drop silence that almost felt suffocating.

Weren’t there others who had night duty? Because there was no way he was all alone in the building, right?

The thought was enough to cause his stomach to lurch, and he swallowed thickly wondering if he should call someone to take his place.

But his house! Mingyu could feel goosebumps rising on his skin the second he thought of his house.

What if she- that thing was still lurking around his house? Or worse, was actually in his house.

The ringing of the telephone cut through the silence like a blade, causing him to jump a mile. His reflexes kicked in though, and clutching his painfully beating heart, Mingyu ran towards his computers to pick the emergency phone call.

“911. Please state your emergency-”

“Help.”

Mingyu froze, the familiar voice draining out all the blood from his cheeks again.

No way.

He wanted to cut the call, wanted to block out whatever this woman was about to beg for because her voice was like icy daggers to his skin, rekindling his fear like never before. Mingyu had never felt so terrified in his life before. 

“Please help… Mingyu.”

It was like her whispering his name had opened Pandora's box, and lots of emotions hit him at once. He couldn’t even question how she knew his name because that wasn’t what terrified him the most.

But it was the familiarity of the voice of the woman. A voice he used to hear almost every day before it was snuffed out of his life suddenly.

“Y/N.” He whispered, fear clutching his stomach as he felt his heart hammer in his chest.

In the empty office he could only hear his own ragged breathing and the slight buzzing sound coming from the phone.

But how was this possible?

Because you had died six months ago.

Or rather, you had been killed in his apartment. Murdered in cold blood even though it didn’t make sense because you were the sweetest and most caring person he had met in the world. 

At first, he had been charged with murder. Those two months of investigation had nearly driven him mad. It was hard as it is dealing with your death but constant poking of the police made it even worse.

Finally he was set free due to the lack of evidence. 

Even thinking about you made his head throb. 

“Help please.” You rasped again. “Help me-”

“Where are you?” He whispered urgently, not sure why he was even asking questions. Because this had to be some sort of sick joke, right? Or maybe- maybe he was hallucinating after all. Hallucinating that you had come back to life to get some sort of closure.

“In our apartment! Why aren’t you helping?” You sobbed on the other end of the line.

He felt his head spin. Whom was he even talking to? With each word your voice turned more and more raspy and he could feel the familiar fear returning.

“If you don’t help me he’ll-”

Mingyu heard you gasp, followed by a whimpering as he heard someone slap you.

“Y-Y/N?” He asked, though he truly didn’t want to know what had happened to you. Was the person you kept mentioning your real killer? Then… was this your ghost he was talking to?

“Stay away.” A male voice spoke into the telephone suddenly, causing him to nearly fall off his seat. The hair on his arms and necks stood up at the familiarity of the voice.

“Stay away." He repeated.

He could hear his own voice on the other side of the telephone line asking him to stay away and Mingyu felt his head spin at the thought.

The telephone nearly slipped from his sweaty hand as he tried taking in a deep breath to calm himself down.

"And- and who’s this-”

“Just stay away from us.” He heard his own voice command him, before the line disconnected finally.

“Who was that?”

Mingyu jumped from his seat, hands flying to his mouth to prevent himself from screaming, until his eyes landed on Seokmin.

“You- you scared me!” He hissed, rubbing his sweaty forehead while trying to calm his shaking body down. What had just happened?

No way he had been talking to himself, right? How was that even possible?

Seokmin raised an eyebrow, walking towards him and sitting down on a chair opposite to him?

“Did I scare you? Or that call did?”

Mingyu looked away.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.”

“I’m fine.” He snapped, wiping his sweaty face with a tissue. The last thing he needed was Seokmin asking too many questions before he started questioning his own sanity.

“You’re not. You asked the caller whether she was Y/N.”

Mingyu shivered involuntarily at the memory, giving away his fear.

“It sounded like her.” He lied, not wanting to remember what had just happened. Maybe if he was nonchalant about it Seokmin would leave him alone.

“Are you sure? That call before was unusual, coming from your house.” Seokmin said, still concerned. “It's okay to be shaken up by this, you know.”

He exhaled out, trying to calm down his nerves as much as he could.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry. Pretty sure it was a prank. I mean,” He forced out a laugh, which sounded odd against the silence surrounding the two of them, “How can it even be Y/N? That makes no sense. I probably miss her a lot. That’s why I can hear her everywhere.”

“You should go home.” Seokmin cut him, patting him on the shoulder. “I think you need to rest a bit if you’re that stressed out. Sometimes, stress causes us to see and hear things that are not real. ”

Mingyu opened his mouth to protest, feeling dread fill the pit of his stomach at the thought of going home, but with the way Seokmin was staring he knew he didn’t have an option. Or else he would need to explain how he heard his own voice speak to him and ask him to stay away.

Stay away.

Was that a warning, then? Was it a big mistake going back to his house?

But with the way Seokmin was staring at him, Mingyu had no other option but to get up slowly and pack up his things. His hands wobbled, causing him to nearly break his favourite mug, but he managed to force a smile and walk to the elevator, knees threatening to give out any second. 

Once inside the elevator, Mingyu chose to stare at his reflection’s nose, unable to meet its eyes. Something told him that seeing his reflection eye to eye would not be a good idea.

Please hurry up. Please open the door fast-

His heart jumped again as his phone rang suddenly, cutting the heavy cold silence which was accompanied by the occasional soft dings.

"Hello?” He whispered, wondering who was calling so late at night. It couldn’t have been Seokmin since he had his number saved, right?

“Why did you kill me?”

Mingyu froze, unable to breathe anymore. How did you-

“Y/N? How did you- Kill you- What are you talking about?” He panted, stumbling back to support his wobbly legs with the help of the wall of the lift.

All of a sudden the air felt cooler, and his clammy hands seemed to be unable to grip the hand bar of the lift. His eyes darted to the equally petrified reflection and a yelp escaped him, phone dropping to the ground.

Because standing right beside his reflection was you. You, looking just like how you had the day you were murdered. Except there was blood all over your dress and multiple stab marks on your chest and stomach.

You smiled at him sweetly. 

“Don’t you know? You killed me. Well, not exactly you. It was Mingyu. But he is you, you are him, right?”

His legs finally gave away as he pushed his back into the walls of the elevator, terror filling every single of his senses.

Helphelpelphelp-

He heard the lift ding as it reached the ground floor. Crawling to the buttons of the lift, he frantically pressed the open button, eyes not leaving your face as you grinned at him, baring your bloody and broken teeth.

Finally the door opened and Mingyu darted to crawl out but froze almost immediately, feeling his heart stop for real this time.

“No.” He sobbed, as he watched the real you walk towards him. Edging back, he felt his heart hammer painfully hard in his chest, every bit of rational thoughts leaving him as you stepped into the elevator.

You leaned towards him much to his terror, and Mingyu screwed his eyes shut as he finally accepted his fate. His breathing eased a bit but he could still feel how tense his entire body was, adrenaline rushing coursing throughout his body.

I don’t want to go.

“Now it’s time for me to return the favour.”

A/N: Please do tell me what you think about this story!! I worked really hard on it and I would love to know everyone’s thoughts on it~ Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

© 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐌 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

[beannoss]

So I've been thinking about them:

Specifically I was wondering what the moment was (if there even was a specific moment) that cinched it for Twilight developing feelings for Yor.

[Spoiler warning: this post references manga chapters not yet animated]

I think for Yor it's pretty quick. Like, this moment here:

Not that Yor fell in love with Twilight then (ymmv) or that she's fully aware of her feelings, but it's explicit that she felt connected to him here and attached in meaningful ways.

But for Twilight, it wasn't so clear. For a while I'd kind of decided that it just came over him slowly (and I think there is something to that) and that there wasn't any singular moment which stood out. But that didn't feel quite right. The more I thought about it, the more I thought there were two stand-out moments, only one of which Twilight actually (semi-)clocks.

The first, which I think passes him by entirely, is this:

In my view, this laugh is an entirely authentic response. I think he is, despite himself, delighted by this woman who 1. just unexpectedly saved him from being stabbed, and 2. did it by sending the guy flying across an entire alleyway.

This is accentuated in the anime, I think, by the jaunty, puckish music that makes up the first part of their marriage theme song. I am dying for the reappearance of this music in some fashion, btw, it's so fun and cheeky and I'm hoping foreshadows their vibe after various revelations and particularly when they start working together as Agent Twilight and Thorn Princess:

The second moment for Twilight, I think, is more subtle for all it's more impactful. Or at least, the degree of its importance passed me by on initial read/watch, and I think it's deliberately downplayed by Twilight himself. Because he does actually clock it but if he looks more closely at it, well... then he might have to do something about it. And maybe that something won't comport with what the mission needs, and then what?

It happens when Twilight first bugs Yor, and then poses with Franky as SSS agents to test whether she knows Yuri is with the SSS.

It's clear in the lead up that Twilight recognises he has some feelings about/for Yor, and he doesn't want to spy on her; he doesn't want to mistrust her at all. He has to convince himself to take seriously that she may be a potential threat.

And even then, the convincing only sort of mostly works, because he hesitates again:

Which is, by the way, bananas. At this point, they've been a fake family for maybe a handful of weeks? Twilight is an experienced, accomplished spy with a finely honed and necessary sense of paranoia. Of course he should be suspicious. Her brother is an SSS agent! Canonically, the SSS are both Twilight- and SSS self-described as Twilight's greatest existential threat. It shouldn't be a question whether or not to verify Yor's knowledge here. And yet.

We all know how the rest plays out. He decides that listening in isn't enough, he needs to confront her insofar as he's able. I wrote previously about Twilight's relationship with Anya and the pivotal moment for him in how his view of his relationship with Anya changes based on Anya's (and Endo's) choices. I think a similar thing happens in this scene with Yor.

See, it would have been enough for Yor to continue to deny, continue to not call on Yuri's help, to prove she didn't know, and to put Twilight's mind at ease.

Endo takes it further.

Y'all: THIS IS ABSOLUTELY WILD. It borders on levels of impulsive foolhardiness that Twilight should actually take as a negative for the person playing his wife for Operation Strix. Yor even alludes later to the problems this could cause!

The SSS are indiscriminate; if Yor was facing down actual SSS agents, first assaulting and then threatening them would 100000% land her in custody. Were it not for Yuri, it may even get her disappeared, based on how casually and frequently Yuri references having people executed. It would absolutely put the Forgers at risk, in general and in the implicitly sexist Ostanian society, because if Mrs Forger behaves this way, how does Mr Forger behave? And why can't he control his wife? The Secret Police are not known for their leniency, their modesty, their discerning, their temperateness, their mercy. They are known for the exact opposite of those things. And due to being a spy, Twilight probably knows they're actually much worse than even their public reputation.

And here's Yor saying: you can question me but if you threaten my brother or my husband, I will fucking end you. Bodily.

Of course, it's entirely in keeping with her character, and it's an entirely revealing moment of who she is. And I think this is the moment for Twilight. He's already been trusting her bit by bit, as he says above, intuitively. I'd suggest that maybe even more than that though, Yor taps into something Twilight deeply wants: backup. Someone and somewhere safe. Maybe we could describe a person fulfilling that role in an adult relationship as a partner...?

It's because he doubts his intuition (his wants, his feelings, things he shouldn't be countenancing) that we get to this point where he (overzealously) tests her.

She blows his test right out of the water.

The SSS are basically the group he fears most; this is reiterated throughout the story. He doesn't trust them specifically because of who he is and also just generally. He doesn't trust their judgment. He doesn't share their values or their priorities. He doesn't like them around. He doesn't like them looking. He doesn't like being anywhere near them. (Also, he's right.)

And here's Yor. Not only standing up to them on his behalf but actually going on active defence on his behalf.

(I pause here to note 'on his behalf' is a bit, mm, tricky, since it's actually technically on Loid's behalf and I have Thoughts and Feelings about Twilight & Identity. But for the sake of the impact of this moment on Twilight, we'll take it as writ that in this moment there's no appreciable difference between Twilight and Loid.)

I think from here on out, it's incredibly difficult for Twilight to ever doubt or distrust Yor. He perceives her as firmly in his corner, that if the chips are down — if his worst enemy and his worst fear come knocking — she'll be on his team, unflinchingly. He may not think there will be much she can do (heh.) or much she can offer given the power of the SSS and her civilian status (I reiterate: heh.), but it matters that he believes that she'll be by his side.

And you know what? He's right. She will be.

That isn't something he's had since he was a little boy. Even WISE doesn't seem to offer that to its agents, given Nightfall's thought here:

Twilight's had to rely on himself for decades and now here's this astonishing woman who will threaten the Secret Police for his sake. Of course he trusts Yor. Of course this moment widens the cracks in his barriers. And further: of course those cracks start to reach into those walls deep, deep inside that protect his heart. This is all before getting to other moments, like when he reflects on how Yor is creating a better world in ways he (thinks he) can never aspire to do himself. That she loves Anya openly, freely, with such dedication, to the point of sacrificing her own needs. That she just never gives up, she persists and persists and persists, always doing her best. That she reminds him it's okay to accept peace and to rest. That she wants and tries to take care of him... On and on and on.

Of course we get to this point:

I'm particularly taken with his body language a little later in the scene. He manages to get himself to sitting but he's still sprawled, open, even as he can't wrap his mind around what exactly is happening or why, and he's feeling vulnerable for all that. But at the same time, this is Yor. And she's safe.

In my view, if the Mole Arc hadn't happened immediately between this moment and the earlier where Yor declares herself unhappy, it would have been clearer how much stress he felt specifically due to Yor's apparent sudden unhappiness with their arrangement. The stress got subsumed (conveniently, ahem, Endo) into the stress and violence of the Mole Arc, but I think it rattled him pretty profoundly. It's also additionally why her warm greeting hit him as hard as it did: relief across multiple lines, such that he had to remind himself not to relax, despite Yor's apparent return to normal.

And there may be added layers to Twilight's reactions to Yor's bad moods due to his familial history, as pointed out by @unhappy-sometimes in this post; the inverse, of course, is that Yor's general good-naturedness would add layers to Twilight's sense of security with her. And the apparent loss of that, all the more devastating.

Rounding out the original moment though, I think this in many ways demonstrates the point:

Twilight throws away the bug. That is also wild. It isn't like that bug could only be used on Yor; it wasn't somehow modified to only respond to her person. It was a device that could be used and reused on different targets, on people who actually are worthy of being bugged, etc. But instead of pocketing it for later use, Twilight throws it away.

Actually: he not only throws it away, he crushes it first. Perhaps because he couldn't stand to have that particular device around, the device he used when he doubted Yor?

Seems kind of irrational, Twilight.

Seems kind of telling.

I mentioned my last Twilight meta about his relationship with Anya: in that, I suggest Twilight recognised entering into a compact with Anya, which subtly modifies, for him, the motivations around Strix. I think something like that happens here, too. If Yor is willing to go to such apparent extremes to protect him, he'll do his utmost to protect her.

I've had this meta in my drafts for a while, but I'm chuffed by this panel from the most recent chapter, as it kind of underscores all this by Yor's positioning of herself:

(Of course the point is there isn't a dichotomy: they'll protect each other, as indicated by Yor's if I had to choose: she won't have to choose.)

Back to Twilight, at this point, he can still justify all this as being within mission parameters. Of course he should protect Yor: she is an innocent civilian and if anything happens to her it would threaten Strix. But if/when this line is tested, if/when there comes a point where protecting Yor is actually the option that may put Strix at risk or put him somehow in opposition to WISE, then we'll see.

And more importantly, Twilight will see, too.

[hedgehog-moss]

Last Sunday in October, a story in five parts :)

i. The guy who owns the pasture next to mine took his cows back to their winter lodgings the other day, and told me I could let my llamas eat what was left of the grass if I wanted. That was sweet of him but his pasture's fence is cow-proof, not llama-proof, so I had to wait for a sunny day, so I could sit with a book nearby and keep an eye on the llamas Pampe. Today was the day!

Pampy looked happy about this unexpected change of scenery and started grazing peacefully, meanwhile Pampe started with exploring the whole pasture, including the patch of woods at the back, hoping to find a flaw in the fence.

(Note Poldine below, desperately running after her mum so she won't be left behind if Pampe does find an opportunity to escape)

ii. I found some impressive coulemelles in this new pasture (I don't know any mushroom names in English sorry.) I cut one to take to the pharmacy and ask if they're the good kind (here with my hand for scale)

They're also known as nez de chat, cat's nose mushrooms, in some regions...

I found some girolles nearby last year, but not this time. The llamas seemed to be on their best behaviour so I thought after lunch I'd go look for mushrooms farther away in the woods, down by the torrent, instead of watching them all day.

Poldine, watch your mother.

I asked Merricat if she was volunteering her services as a llama-sitter (it looked like it)

—but she suspected I was going home where the fire is, so she followed me. (I don't make a fire on sunny afternoons, though... she had to nap in my cardigan instead. Not as good, but a tolerated second-best option.)

iii. I took Pan with me after lunch so he wouldn't encourage Pampe in mischief, and he was uncharacteristically audacious in his frolicking! He doesn't like water and he's usually quite prudent when we're near the torrent, even scolding me if I climb on mossy rocks, but today he was jumping from one slippery rock to the other very boldly.

As I was taking this nice waterfall photo, I heard a very dramatic high-pitched squeal followed by a dramatic splashing sound, and when I turned around Pandolf was dragging himself out of the torrent, looking, as we say in french, honteux et confus.

I'm sorry that his bout of audacious frolicking had to end this way :( Back to frolicking gingerly for at least a couple of years... (His fur is magical though, he looks like a drowned rat at first but then shakes himself twice and is immediately back to a normal volume of floof. So his dignity doesn't suffer for long, at least.)

iv. I found no mushrooms but something even better!

I love chestnuts so much, I've been hoping to find chestnut trees for years but was starting to think they just don't grow at this altitude... But I suck at identifying trees so it's very possible I walked past them dozens of times and never recognised them when it wasn't chestnut season.

You really have to earn every chestnut, even with the crushing-under-your-boot method to squeeze them out you still have to extricate them from their burr going ow ow ow the whole time. The worst thing is when you kill your fingers opening a reticent burr and it resentfully spits out a bunch of sad deflated worthless chestnuts.

Still, I ended up going home with chestnuts in every single one of my pockets. When we got out of the woods and back on the road Pandolf and I ran into a woman we don't know (so, not a close neighbour) and we started talking about foraging and I wondered if I should tell her about the nearby chestnut spot. But those things are private. No one told me about the chestnut spot even after I made increasingly heavy casual hints about how much I love chestnuts. After a while though I started suspecting this lady knew about the spot and was on her way there. Or on her way back, through a different path. She looked shifty. So did I. It's very possible that we were both standing there in the middle of the road with our coat pockets crammed with chestnuts, making pointedly non-chestnut-related small talk.

v. I went home and started making chestnut-pumpkin soup while dodging constant coordinated chicken attacks. At first they act like they're napping on a conveniently-nearby chair, or looking the other way, and as soon as you stop distrusting their intentions, they pounce, often from two different directions.

Side plot: Pandolf spent this whole time desperately trying to catch a cat, to restore his self-confidence after falling in the torrent.

Morille went from strolling casually on top of the fence to lounging casually in the hazel tree above my head, making it look like she hadn't even noticed she was being chased, which was very frustrating for Pandolf. Nothing wounds a dog like going unnoticed.

I told Morille it would make him happy if she let him catch her, and she was like eh, fine, and elegantly jumped from the hazel tree to the top of the stone wall.

Pandolf immediately followed, poked her a bit brutally with his big nose, and then he didn't know what else to do with her once he caught her so he just wagged his tail like "Well played, cat!! It was nice chasing you" and left.

v. bis (or ter) I want to reassure Pirlouit fans (who might have noticed that he wasn't allowed to graze in the neighbour's pasture with the llamas) that he knows he's entitled to fair compensation as a donkey, and he stood behind the fence the whole time I was preparing my soup, patiently waiting for his pumpkin benefits. Which he did get.

I found some leftover chestnuts in my trouser pocket tonight, that I'd forgotten about, so I'm having stove-roasted chestnuts for dessert after the chestnut soup! Chestnuts were 90% of my dinner and were also the reason Pandolf got dinner. I ran out of dog kibble and I was thinking of giving him a hard-boiled egg and some rice tonight, and go buy kibble tomorrow, but on our way back this afternoon we stopped by our closest neighbour's house and I humbly offered a handful of chestnuts in exchange for one serving of kibble. The neighbour's dog didn't look enchanted with our offer but his human agreed. I usually trade with my chicken's eggs but this woman has hens so I'm glad chestnuts are also accepted as valid currency.

[avengersbtch]

You're Lucky Your Beautiful - Armando Aretas

Armando Aretas x Reader

Warnings: This fic does not follow to the film’s timeline.  I have altered the scenes!!

A/N Pre relationship flirting?? Or maybe pre- pre-relationship flirting lol idk but it’s cute, I think. I’m a sucker for pre relationship fics and the build up!!! 

Summary: Y/N pinged the location of Mike & Marcus’, leading to Armando meeting y/n for the first time and a roller coaster of emotions in one night.

Word Count: 3.4k

The hunt for Mike, Marcus and Armando was plastered on every news outlet known, you felt useless watching every news reporter talk down on Mike and Marcus as you were trying to look for them. Marcus felt more like father figures to you than your actual parents did so watching everyone jump at the opportunity to talk down on their reputation they built was crushing, you also knew for an absolute fact that everything they were saying was false and you would bet your life on that too. You had no feelings toward Armando, you neither liked nor hated him. Mike obviously felt deeply for his long-lost son, but you had never met him, so seeing him on the news didn’t really inflict any feelings. All you knew was that he was the key to the case and after Mike insisted he ID the suspect, Armando agreed reluctantly. 

You were snuggled on your cream cotton couch sitting on your laptop trying to track down or contact the boys without the Feds knowing. They had pulled you off their case, knowing how close you were and took most of your personal belongings or tapped the rest assuming Marcus might contact you. This laptop was your backup, backup laptop, so thankfully they didn’t find this one.

Just as you were going to call it a night, your laptop pinned an advancement on their case, a location. Of-course Mike had gone to Tabitha’s, probably not wanting to get you involved in whatever mess he’s in. You immediately jumped and ran to get dressed to be some sort of assistance, now you weren’t physically or skill-fully equipped for combat, you could admit that, however expertise excelled behind a computer, and everyone knew that. Either way you know they could at least use a safe place to stay and whatever else you could offer.

You slipped in black jeans and a long sleeve black fitted top with a hoodie, with the aim of staying as inconspicuous as possible. You quickly slipped into your sneakers as you jump into your car, following the reports of their location. You’d probably get fired for doing what you were about to do, especially given there is a high chance an actual criminal is tagging along to their adventures. That obviously being Armando, but you decided would deal with that later. 

Speeding down the highway, you could hear the sirens closing in and the gunshots becoming more consistent. As you neared the scene, you could see multiple cop cars, large four-wheeled drives, and vans at all different angles. This would be a nightmare for you to find them. You drove into an alleyway, noticing the traffic moving in the same direction and slowly parked behind a large dump bin. Exiting the car, you left the ignition running to assist in easier escape. As you walked out the alleyway, you peeked out of the corner of the wall seeing a large black van on fire. 

“Guess it wasn’t that hard to find them” you chuckled rolling your eyes at the current state of the vehicle they were using. You watched them jump out the moving van just as the van light and exploded right before your eyes. You count three. Meaning they were in fact accompanied by Armando. Great. You eyed the three of them, as they ran in your direction, you eyed the scene making sure there were no witnesses and no threats. When you deemed it safe, you stepped out of the alleyway in full vision. They all paused, Mike squinted as if recognising your figure and slowly stepped closer. 

“Y/n?!” He questioned in surprise, obviously not expecting to see a familiar face.

“Y/n? Mike what are you on about?” Marcus followed until he spotted you “Y/n!” He confirmed once he ID’d you. More for himself really. 

“let’s have a family reunion later, hurry up my car’s around there” you pointed in a hurry as you ran off expecting them to follow you. You couldn’t waste any time, you need to get the out of here before they were spotted again. You slip into the driver’s seat waiting for them to get in, taking longer than usual you turn to see Armando still outside of the car. 

“Dude, get in the car. We need to go” you hissed. Did he not understand the severity of the situation?

“How can we trust her?” Armando asked looking over my shoulder at Mike.

“Who else do you have right now? get in or I’m leaving. I really don’t care whether you live or die” I whisper yelled, pre-emptively interrupting their conversation.

“Armando, get in. We can trust her” Mike sighed. Armando’s eyes flicked over to you and back to Mike then back over to you until he decided to trust you and slipped in the back seat near Marcus. You rolled your eyes, setting your car into drive and shaking your head, as if you were begging for him to trust you. 

The drive back was silent, almost awkward giving you were aiding the escape of a fugitive. Deciding to break the long silence, you joked “So I see you guys decided to quit you day job and harbour a wanted fugitive”. 

“Ha ha y/n, just get us to yours please. We need to get to Dorn’s tomorrow morning. Armando is our only lead to ID the suspect, they’re going lengths to try and kill him” Marcus explained, and his eyes remained on the road watching for any unwanted noise. Your eyes flicked to Armando through the rear-view mirror. His eyes also trained on the road and his surroundings. You had to admit, he was extremely good looking, even with his bud light shirt and his burnt jeans, the only thing you could focus on was his shining eyes. God damn. You trained your eyes back to the road in front of you and kept driving almost smacking yourself for checking him out.

“How did you find us?” Armando asked in curiosity, though his face did not emote. If it wasn’t for the question, it was almost like he didn’t give a fuck. 

“Oh uh, I, I uhm I’ve been tracing the feeds on your location. Just about everyone is looking for you. Though they’ve been pretty late to finding you guys after the uh crash” you stuttered honestly shocked at his interest. Not sure whether he’s asking you because he wants to know or testing you. 

“Armando, y/n’s the brains behind the operation. We’ve known her since she was a kid. She’s not with them, relax we can trust her” Mike supported you, confirming your concerns. He was just testing you.

Arriving at home, you parked in your driveway, telling them to follow you as you walked up a short flight of stairs to your door. You felt a sense of nerves inviting Armando into your home and you weren’t sure whether that was because he was a criminal or extremely attractive, which was truly concerning. Walking into your home, everything remained as you left it with your laptop on the couch where you were seated, the chips and red bull beside you on the mahogany coffee table. The house wasn’t messy but looked lived in with there being left over steak and chips on the table that you hadn’t yet cleaned up from dinner, some cups in the sink that required cleaning from the night prior that were on display with the dim kitchen light still on, illuminating the small kitchen and the remaining condiments that you had not packed up yet. Your home was small along with your kitchen, so any small mess would look like a lot. 

“Sorry guys, the house is a bit of a mess. I had just finished dinner before your location pinged” you lied slightly trying to excuse the mess. “there’s leftover food if you guys are hungry and give me a sec, I’ll get you guys something to change into” you offered as you walked to fetch them clothes to change into, unsure of what  or why they were wearing those clothes. 

“What man does she have that lives here?” Armando’s thick accent echoing from the room. It sounded more pronounced than usual, Furrowing your brows, you continued to listen as you selected clothes for the three of them. 

“Why do you care?” Mike asks accusingly which makes you chuckle slightly. 

“I’m just saying, is he gonna walk in here, and see us all here and rat us out? we need to be smarter than that, or do we trust everyone that you say we can, because that didn’t work out with Tabitha” he answered defensively, and Mike threw a knowing hum as I finished collecting their clothes. 

I walk out of the spare room with the clothes and smile sweetly in hopes that maybe he’ll finally trust me and explain “My brother comes and stays at mine when he’s in town. No one is going to come in, like I said,  you can trust me” 

He stares at me again as if he doesn’t give a fuck, his eyes give away nothing and I wait expectantly for some sort of comeback. 

“Don’t worry about him y/n, he knows no one’s walking in. He just asking questions he shouldn’t” Mike waved him off as Marcus in the kitchen where he was already hammering my snacks. 

Armando still staring and this becoming increasingly awkward, you handed him some clothes, not noticing which ones you offered him, he took them without fight and walked to the shower without a single thank you, causing you to mutter “a thank you would be nice, it’s not like I’m begging for you to stay” 

“Enojado te queda bien” he mumbled as he slammed the door. You furrowed your brows, unsure of what he just told you, he could have insulted you for all you know. You had known this man for all of five minutes and he was already getting on your nerves. Slipping off your hoddie, you noticed Mike and Marcus plating some of the leftovers which you were happy about, you followed in to help them and although the man in the bathroom was pissing you off, you did feel bad for him given he was just in prison and was now on the run because someone was trying to kill him so Ultimately, you decided to plate him some too before they demolished it all. 

“Your son is showering I think, so you guys can go next. The clothes are on the couch” you announced as you plated the food. Marcus paused plating and eyed out the plate in your hand.

“I thought you ate” he asked knowingly, well it was more of a statement that caused you to roll your eyes.

“Don’t give me that look Marcus, I’m putting him a plate before you demolish the food” you explained in defence. 

“Mhmm” he hummed offering me a side eye while he returned to plating his food. 

“Marcus don’t mhm me! As much of a dick he is, I’m not heartless” you argued again defensively, there was most definitely nothing of what Marcus was insinuating. He was a criminal for god’s sake! Yes, a gorgeous one but nevertheless a criminal.

You moved to dish as the boys went to eat dinner on the couch, given the size of your house, there was really no room to fit a dining table in the kitchen or living room, so you opted to have a multi-use coffee table instead. As you were washing the dishes you heard the bathroom door open, forcing yourself not to turn your head only so you didn’t offer Marcus anymore ammo to suggest anything further, continuing to clean you dishes. You felt the warmth of his presence near you as you assumed he was reaching for the food you’d plated him, the closer he got, the harder it was to keep your eyes trained on the dishes, let alone your focus. You moved your eyes slightly to see him eyeing the food out with caution, any tension remaining sprinting out of your body as you rolled your eyes at his distrust.

“it’s not poisoned Armando” you stated obviously unable to hide the second eye roll. His eyes lifting with his head still facing down and lips tilted in a slight smirked. Soon after his head followed the position of his eyes, looking straight at you with a smirk. His eyes slowly skimming your now slightly more exposed body up & down until he finally reached your eyes again. Your brows furrowed yet again, analysing the situation that just occurred.

“Are you? Are you trying to piss me off on purpose?” you questioned with your voice an octave higher.

He chuckled at your question and flicked his head in demand “Can I have a fork Mami?” he asked with the same smirk on his face.

You were embarrassed to admit the baby name caught you off guard, he had your head turning to the forks trying to identify the purpose of the utensil he requested, then turning back to him trying to figure out what game he was playing.

You turned you back to the forks and him at least twice until you demanded an answer “Why are you trying to piss me off, what’s your game?” you asked furiously as you grabbed him a fork.

“Like I said, Angry looks good on you mami” he stated as a matter of fact. Your eyes widen in shock and if you were flustered before, you were a walking mess after that comment. You stood in the kitchen staring at his back absolutely flabbergasted at the sudden change, you needed a second to breath, to process the two comments he made. One minute he was as cold as Antarctica, next he was playing jokes and calling you very cute nicknames that may or may not have sounded 10 times better in his accent. You pinched yourself and walked to the living room hearing Mike call you in the background, deciding to sit on the floor far from Armando and turned straight to Mike.

“Did you like the food?” You asked Mike, trying to ignore the hot stare on your left. You could feel him staring and eating at the same time.

“Thank you so much y/n, for the food but also for putting yourself on the line for us, I know what risk you are taking.” He thanked with sincerity.

You smiled at his sincerity “Mike, you know I would stop everything for you guys, next time just come straight to me please?” you asked honestly, and he smiled back and nodded acknowledging your heartfelt request. You, out of instinct turned your focus to the burning stares on your left, forgetting your internal feud and notice him staring intently this time, no playfulness or smugness, just wonder and awe at your loyalty. His focus re-trained, noticing you starting he smiled, not one reaching his eyes but one that you could tell meant something. This smile sparked something in you, it was probably also seeing him eat like he hadn’t eaten in months, which may have truly been the case, given that he was in prison, but whatever it was it had you inclined to personally ask him if he liked the food.

“Are you enjoying the meal, Armando?” you asked as you looked at him innocently, and while it may as well could have been innocent. Armando’s heart melted at little at your concern, he could see the worry in your eyes, the need for him to say yes that he was enjoying it. Not that he would be lying if he said yes, he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in months, let alone a home cooked piece of steak but that face would have made him say yes anyway.

The jokes and games for a second forgotten, lost in your eyes and he smiled softly as he answered “Yes, thank you y/n”. She smiled and looked toward her lap with a slight blush on her face leaving Armando weak for more. He coughed almost to break the spell you had put him under and looked at Mike, his brows were raised almost as warning but right now, he really didn’t care, he just wanted to make you smile again.

“Ok, well! I’ll take that as my cue, Mike you wanna go sleep?” Marcus announced awkwardly. Mike caught on quick and jumped at the offer agreeing at least three times that he was tired.

“Oh uh of course, I have a spare room, there is a mattress under the bed too if you guys want to take the spare room?” you blinked, shaking yourself out of whatever head fuck that Armando caused as offered the room.

“Yeah, sounds good, Armando are you good to take the couch?” Mike asked not really giving him an option. Armando just nodded while finishing of his food.

“Armando can take my room, I’m okay on the couch tonight” I offered, knowing they’d only be staying here tonight.

“No. the couch is fine” He answered, causing you to frown a little as the dismissive tone on his voice. But little did you know, he didn’t want you sleeping on the couch.

“Honestly it’s fine, you guys are only here for one night and no offense, but you’ve been sleeping in a prison for ages, I fall asleep on my couch all the time” You over-explained hoping he would take you up on your offer. You looked at Mike and Marcus for encouragement and when they weren’t going to assist, you threw them a glare that forced them to convince him to take your bed. He reluctantly agreed and thanked you to which you smiled at again. God he should have said yes sooner if he’d known he’d see your smile again.

The boys cleaned up their plates and went off to bed as they had a so aggressively agreed they needed to do. You noticed Armando had finished his plate, so you offered him more which he politely declined. To say you were confused was an understatement, one minute he was mean and defensive, then flirty and now nice. He was difficult to read and even harder to please.

He packed his plate up as well; you watched as he then stood at the sink cleaning his dishes as you moved to the couch crossing your legs. He was wearing a black tank top that had his tanned arms on display, biceps flexing every time he scrubbed a little harder, at this point, you were staring at him unashamedly. Well, that was before he called you out for it.

“You gonna keep staring, or you wanna help” he smirked still washing, but you were not going to let him have this one, not while you had the confidence to stare at him.

“didn’t I give you a top plus the tank?” You asked knowing that you were calling him out for choosing to look so fucking sexy right now. Ok maybe it wasn’t much of a comeback, but hopefully it would catch him off guard, the same way he did to you. He paused washing, indicating it may have had the desired effect, causing a small smirk to lift on your lips.

He looked up, rinsing off the last dish “Where’d your hoodie go?” he asked back almost in retaliation walking closer to you. You just lifted your shoulders with a cheeky confused look on your face “Tienes suerte eres hermosa” He commented in Spanish again.

Brows furrowing yet again with a slight frown “What does that mean?” more confident to ask.

He smiled so softly and leaned in close to your face, your eyes followed his movements and face still. As he moved closer to your ear, your eyes moved straight ahead focusing on his voice. “You are lucky you're beautiful” He translated. Your head turned so quickly looking directly at him, your faces almost touching. He looked down at your lips and then back up your eyes, his head moved slightly and opted for a soft peck on the cheek as he whispered goodnight.

This man would be the absolute death of you, you knew this for sure.

[seonghwaddict]

blue bird — choi san, jung wooyoung

in which one of the most dangerous men in the city approaches you with an offer, but how would you have known it would turn into something more?

mafia boss!choi san x fem!reader x mafia boss!jung wooyoung. genre. fluff, smut, mafia au. warnings. explicit sexual content minors dni, unprotected sex, dom!san, dom!wooyoung, sub!reader, slight corruption, p in v, oral (f and m receiving), multiple orgasms, threesome, fingering, reverse cowgirl position, pussy drunk wooyoung??, subspace??, cum swallowing, san is a little mean, wooyoung likes to tease, lots of teasing, hair pulling, slight degradation, dirty talk like a lot of it, brief begging, praise, overuse of the word pretty, pet names (doll, princess, baby, pretty girl, good girl, baby doll, pretty little slut). i think that’s it but if i missed anything please let me know. wc. 6.9k.

lilo’s notes. hiii happy new year everyone!! this is dedicated to @garlichoisan, surprise! i was your secret santa :3 i’m sorry but i completely forgot to write angst and couldn’t find a way to squeeze it in, please forgive me 😭😭 i think i got a little carried away with the smut, it’s probably not my best since i’m not very experienced in writing it but i hope you like it and this as a whole!!

　　　　　　　　　masterlist

choi san wanted you in a rather unexpected way.

not in a friendly way or a sexual way, but actually in a professional way. ever since he’d heard of what you, the so called “blue bird,” were up to, he knew you’d be a valuable asset. shortly after he heard about you, he was quick to tell wooyoung about what he had learned from idling in a bar he’d never been to.

it was an early morning. so early that the sun hadn’t risen yet, but that didn’t bother san. he preferred quieter, intimate spaces rather than the bustling clubs of grey city. as he sipped on his whiskey, the two men beside him got to talking. neither of them were very memorable, if anything they looked too similar; not intimidating in any way. still, he made a mental note of the guns attached to their hips. it was nothing very interesting, small talk from what he could tell. well, at least until they mentioned an odd name.

“did you hear what she did?”

“who?” one of them, the one with comically thick glasses, said as he blew out some cigarette smoke.

“well… ya know…” his voice lowered to a whisper, though in his drunken state it was less of a discreet whisper and more of a loud hiss, “the blue bird.”

he gave a sound of recognition. “wonderful heist, wasn’t it?”

“indeed,” he laughed, a deep chortle, “she was here tellin’ ricky all about it yesterday. flawless, flew in and out like a ghost.” he sighed blissfully, as if he had been there to watch you work.

now this. this is what caught infamous mafia boss choi san’s attention.

“more like a bird!” the bespectacled man nudge his friend with his elbow, a high pitched giggle leaving him. “get it? because she’s called bl-”

the friend held his hand up with a deadpan expression. “yes, i get it.”

the two men talked about you some more (“pretty thing she is, isn’t she?” “mhm, heard she’s actually quite sweet too. odd thing to hear about an outlaw.”), but san tuned them out again. with an important upcoming mission, he needed someone capable of doing exactly what these two men had described. he needed someone like you. preferably, you.

going off of what he had heard, he frequented that bar, hoping you’d happen to be there at the same time. he sat at the same seat at the same counter every night and always ordered the same thing. he noticed that after the first two nights he was there, no one really sat next to him. presumably because they recognised him and opted to avoid him instead of doing anything.

not that he cared, this part of town was known to be filled with people of the rebellious type; people like him who despised the government and would stop at nothing to take it down. if anything, they most likely respected him and his business. but alas, that doesn’t matter much in this particular story, does it?

wooyoung even offered to take turns visiting the bar, curious to see this mysterious person as well. but two weeks passed and no sign of you. most of the people there were the same every time he went, he was sure he would’ve noticed a new face at some point.

fortunately, his efforts became successful.

as usual, no one sat directly beside him, leaving one or two barstools between him and whatever other patron sat at the counter. or so he thought. the usual bartender passed him and came to a stop. confused and thinking the bartender stopped for him despite already sipping on his drink, san tilted his head. but it soon became evident that he wasn’t there for him, but rather for the pretty woman he didn’t notice sitting beside him.

“the usual?” the bartender asked, a crooked smile spreading on his face as he looked at you, his hands busy drying a glass.

san heard a brief chuckle beside him, prompting him to take a proper look at you. the first thing he noticed were your lips. plump and red, smooth lipstick. then the slope of your neck and shoulders, exposed by the thin straps of your silky black dress, jacket hanging by your elbows. the soft yellow-tinted lighting bounced off your rich skin and perfect hair in an almost hypnotising way. there was something enchanting about your aura, your posture, you.

he forced himself to look away, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“yes, thank you.” you replied, nodding at the bartender as he turned to prepare your drink.

“one hot chocolate for our blue bird coming right up!”

blue bird.

this time san couldn’t stop himself from looking. so it was you.

the men from the other day weren’t lying when they called you a pretty little thing. you wore a silky black dress and a black fur jacket to protect you from the cold wind of the night. as his eyes roamed over you they got caught on your plump thighs. briefly, he wondered if they felt as soft as they looked but soon enough something else caught his attention. as you shifted in your seat, he caught a glimpse of the inside of your jacket, a quick glint reflecting from inside told him you were indeed carrying a weapon. he made sure to keep that in the back of his mind.

a man such as himself, wide shouldered and intimidating, was hard to ignore. if you didn’t notice him staring from the corner of your eyes, you were sure the heat of his stare would’ve burned a hole through your skin. needless to say, he had caught your attention as well, except you seemed to be better at hiding it.

once the momentary shock subsided, he smiled. the fact that such a dangerous person would regularly order hot chocolates from a bar was amusing to him.

noticing the change in expression, you glance at him. what the hell? seeing a man grinning at you was unsettling. a man with such broad shoulders who could probably easily overpower you. his face looked familiar, you realised, but couldn’t quite attach a name to it quite yet.

unsure of what to do and what this man may want from you, you turned away and engaged in a conversation with the bartender as he prepared your drink, all the while ignoring the man at your side. as soon as you finished your drink, you placed some cash on the counter and got up, swiftly walking out of the bar.

while your goal was to get away, you didn’t take the fact that he might follow you into account.

“don’t go yet, little outlaw, i’d like to talk to you about something.”

his voice was rather calm and even, but still left minimal room for discussion. you rolled your eyes before turning around with a completely different expression—eyes wide and innocent, lashes fluttering, eyebrows raised.

“you must be mistaken, sir, i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

he chuckled and took some steps forward and that’s when you recognised him. shit. he slowly walked over to you, speaking to you in that same calm voice with a sprinkle of cockiness somewhere in it. “playing dumb? really? for someone as smart as yourself i’d expect you to know that the 1 billion won bounty on your head doesn’t hide you.”

you sighed at his words, taking steps back to maintain the distance. there was no use continuing the innocent act, snapping at him, “what do you want?”

“do you know who i am?”

“of course i do, the whole city does. do you think i live under a rock?” you scoffed a laugh.

he dismissed your sarcasm, being used to having to deal with such cheeky mouths. “i have an offer.” when you didn’t reply, he continued. “help me and my… business partner with a heist.”

that was not what you expected.

“hmm… no, thanks.” you smiled up at him but nearly faltered as your back hit the wall of an alley you had unknowingly backed yourself into. you cursed yourself silently as he stood right in front of you, so close you had to look up to maintain eye contact.

“i wasn’t asking, darling.” he looked down at you, expression nearly sneering as he held an air of superiority about him. “you either agree or you’ll wake up behind bars tomorrow morning.”

“you can’t arrest me or turn me in, they’ll forget all about me since you’re the more wanted one out of the two of us.” you spoke matter-of-factly, a cocky tilt to the corner of your lips.

“i never said i would be the one to turn you in, little outlaw.”

“you know,” you hummed and moved your arms. his first assumption was that you were reaching for the dagger he glimpsed inside your jacket earlier, instinctively catching your wrists in his grasp as your words died in your throat and your breath hitched. he shifted his grip to place both of your wrists in one hand, holding them up above your head as his free hand nudged your jacket open, revealing the dagger.

he clicked his tongue patronisingly and fished it out delicately. his eyes shifted to yours, eyebrows raising in a silent question as he tossed the weapon over his shoulder. the metal blade clinked and echoed in the barren alleyway. he kept your wrists in his hold but lowered your arms, holding them at the height of your hips.

he leaned forward, speaking into your ear lowly as you suppressed a shudder. “you may continue.”

you glared at him and had the sudden urge to punch the shit eating grin off his face. “what’s in it for me?”

“um…” his face went blank and he leaned back to look at you, clearly not a single thought processing behind those cat-like eyes. “is there anything you want in particular?”

“protection.” you said simply, tilting your head.

“oh,” he nodded slowly, his brows furrowing in confusion but he kept his eyes on you. “but can’t you find that in any store?”

he felt a hit against his shin as you kicked him lightly. “ew not that. i meant… well, doing what i do, there’s a lot of people after me. you have the means to have some of your guys make sure i don’t run into any trouble.”

san nodded understandingly, loosening his grip on your wrists but not letting go. not that you minded. “that’s perfectly possible, yes.”

you exhaled, relieved. warm air fanning against his neck as you did so. “okay, then, i’m in. so what is it you need me to do?”

this time he released your wrists completely and took a step back, reaching into an inner pocket of his tailored suit and pulled out a little card with one hand as the other brought your hand up.

he brushed his hand over your closed fist, opening your fingers up to reveal your palm, placing the card in your palm before gently nudging your fingers to close over it. in a swift move, he turned your hand around and bowed forward, pressing a slow and soft kiss to your knuckles—eyes locked on yours as you stared back at him in bewilderment.

he lifted his lips, smirking at you as he straightened up, hands moving to the bottom of his blazer and tugging, stretching the wrinkles away. “i expect to see you tomorrow at dusk, little blue bird.”

with a wink, he turned on his heels and walked away. you watched him, listening to the echoing footsteps as he left the alley and disappeared around a corner, leaving you slumped against the cold brick wall with burning cheeks.

you weren’t sure what you expected when you arrived at the address on the card choi san gave you. perhaps an underground bunker that looked nothing like the breathtaking estate you stood in front of.

the building was tucked within a small forest far from the outskirts of night city. the architecture seemed foreign and classical, a building you’d roam through whilst listening to tchaikovsky or chopin—not a building you’d expect to scheme against the government in. though, you supposed in some aspects it fit the aesthetic san had going on. sipping whiskey in a fully tailored suit, the smell of cigarette smoke and mint heavy in the air around him.

you walked up to the grand double doors, taking a moment to admire the intricate carvings before ringing the bell. less than a minute later, the right door swung open to reveal a stranger.

he wore wide dark jeans and a black and white plaid shirt, the top few buttons undone to reveal his chiselled collarbones and practically half of his torso. his black hair was slicked back with a few strands framing his face with the dainty square glasses he wore, some hanging silver earrings on display. he was, completely objectively speaking, handsome.

his eyes roamed over you, taking in your appearance before smiling and crossing his arms, leaning his side against the door as he pushed his glasses up to rest on the top of his head. you noticed a mole on his face—a small dot just under his left eye. “so you’re the little outlaw san told me about, huh?”

“yes, and you are?” you knew who he was, of course, but pleasantries were pleasantries nonetheless.

“jung wooyoung, but you already knew that.”

you chuckled and put your arms up in surrender, “oh no, i’ve been caught.”

his laugh was rather high pitched as he ushered you in. “come in, it gets cold at night.”

he led you through the house, stopping by what he referred to as his office but really looked like a sitting room with soft lighting and a desk to grab some rolled up papers before continuing the walk. the interior was just as beautiful as the exterior; intricate paintings and marble floors. wooyoung smiled as he saw the awe-stricken look on your face.

he led you to another set of double doors, pushing both of them open and stepping through without looking back to make sure you were following. now this was an office.

your jaw nearly dropped as you walked into the room, spinning a full circle to gawk at the various bookshelves that lined the walls and high ceiling that looked like it came straight out of the sistine chapel. a large fireplace cast a warm, yet still dark, glow over the room, making it look that much more impressive. a graceful vintage couch with two matching armchair were placed in front of the fireplace, a glass coffee table nestled between the seats and the source of light and warmth.

the floor creaked with every step you took, being made of dark wooden planks instead of marble.

you flinched as you heard san’s familiar voice snapping you out of your stupor. “pick your jaw up, you might catch flies.”

at the sound of his voice, you whipped around and glared at him after quickly pulling yourself together. he was sat in a leather chair at his impressive desk, wooyoung sat (balanced) on the arm of the chair.

you walked over and stood across from them in front of the desk. “it’s a nice house, are you two the only ones that live here?”

wooyoung took the chance to answer. “sometimes. there’s six others that are part of our… syndicate, but they stay in other places, surrounding grey city.”

“enough of that.” san waved his hand dismissively and leaned forward. as he did so, your eyes were drawn to his chest. he wore a white button up, though it appeared to be a bit tight judging by the way the fabric around the buttons strained every time he moved. your lingering gaze didn’t go unnoticed, but neither of them brought it up. “woo, the plans, please.”

the plan was set to take place the months after you had met with them for the first time. this gave you three to prepare, to memorise the layout and every detail about the building you’ll be infiltrating. for this preparation, you frequented their estate often—nearly every day—and spent hours with them. two weeks in, they offered you one of their guest bedrooms to stay in.

at first wooyoung got on your nerves, but soon enough you grew accustomed to his antics—the clinginess, the teasing. eventually, you even found yourself liking it and seeking it out.

san was slightly more reserved at first, more serious. but soon he, too, let down his guard. encouraging words, affectionate touches.

the more time you spent with them, the more you found yourself relaxing, letting them handle you with care instead of pushing them away like you used to with so many people before them. and eventually you, dare you say, began liking them.

you couldn’t deny the way san’s sharp snd perceptive eyes made you want to squirm under his gaze as he watched you bend over his desk to point something out on the building’s floor plan. you couldn’t deny the way his gentle commands (“do this for me please.” “come here, princess.”) had butterflies roaring in your stomach.

and wooyoung. while san was indeed quite physically affectionate, it was nothing compared to wooyoung. lingering touches and smooth words. sometimes you’d be grabbing something in kitchen and he’d come by, pulling you aside by your hips to grab something. later that day you’d offered to cook something up for dinner, but he only tutted and lifted you by your waist to place you on the marble island counter (“i don’t trust you in my kitchen, baby. just sit there and look pretty for me, yeah?”). jung wooyoung was a flirt and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

two days before the heist, you walked into san’s office after waking up and not being able to find woo. in the time you’d spent with them, you had learned that san acquired the bigger and fancier office by winning a game of rock paper scissors.

as you opened the door, the cat-eyed man looked up from whatever he was working on, smiling as he watched you yawn and stretch on your way over to him. he gave you a once over; you wore an oversized shirt, the collar shifted and hanging over one shoulder, the end of the shirt ending halfway down your thighs.

“sleep well?” he asked, putting his pen down as you stopped in front of the desk. he’d woken up not too long before you, still in his sleepwear, hair tussled but somehow still perfect.

you nodded, your voice soft in your sleepy state, “where’s woo?”

“he went out to get stuff for dinner,” he chuckled as he heard the slight concern in your voice. he pushed his chair back slightly and patted his lap. “come sit here while i work, princess.”

you grinned and walked around the desk, claiming his lap as your seat. you leaned back against him, back pressed to his front. he kissed your exposed shoulder chastely and got back to work. you tried to look down at his papers to see what he was doing, but the way his unoccupied arm wrapped around your waist and shifted you slightly (in a way that accidentally made his thigh rub against certain areas) had your mind going blank, unable to focus on anything other than his touch.

though you couldn’t see it, san also had a hard time focusing. every time you moved, your ass brushed over his pelvis. it was clear he didn’t think it through when he told you to sit on him since now he was having a hard time holding himself back, a bulge growing in his sweatpants.

you shifted again, trying to find a position where none of his body parts rubbed against your core, and he sucked a sharp breath in. his hands practically flew to your hips to hold you still.

“princess, i need you to sit still or i might go crazy, okay?” he spoke softly into your ear, hot breaths brushing against your skin and making you shiver, a fact he noticed and made him smirk. maybe he was already going crazy, but just a little more wouldn’t hurt, right?

he kept his lips by your ear for a moment before moving down slightly, placing them just below your earlobe. it was your turn for your breath to hitch, tilting your head to give him more space. he nearly groaned at the subtle act of submission, burying his face into your skin and kissing his way down to the crook of your neck.

time seemed to slow as his hands tightened on your hips, he scraped his teeth along your neck before biting down gently, not enough to hurt but enough to elicit a breathy whine. when the sound left your lips, he froze.

when you noticed he wasn’t doing anything, you whined again and rolled your hips over his pelvis, dropping your head back on his shoulder. the action surprised yourself too. you’d had sex, of course, but it was never a necessity for you. even when the opportunity presented itself, you wouldn’t chase after it. yet here you were, wordlessly begging him to continue. what had these men done to you?

“is this okay?” he whispered.

you nodded immediately, turning your head to look at him. his breath nearly caught in his throat as he saw the look in your eyes, illuminated by the soft glow of the fireplace—a silent plea for him to have his way with you, release the tension that’s built up over the previous three months. without waiting a second longer, he attached his lips to your neck again, a certain roughness to the way he caressed your skin with his lips and his tongue and his teeth.

you melted against him and let your eyes fall shut when you felt his hands slip shirt off, tossing it on his desk, and then rest against your bare waist, fingertips brushing over the skin making a shiver run down your spine. a voice that wasn’t his had your eyes flying open, your body freezing for a moment before you realised who it was.

“you two just couldn’t wait for me?” wooyoung pouted, leaning against the desk in front of the chair you and san occupied. san chuckled against your neck while you stared at wooyoung, dumbfounded, unexpected excitement stirring in your abdomen.

he looked from your face, to san’s smirk, and then down at the way your hips tried finding the right angle to grind on san’s lap. a dark chuckle left wooyoung’ slips and he leaned forward, hands coming to rest on your knees.

“need help with that, doll?” he tilted his head, a mocking pout gracing his lips as he cooed at you, one hand coming up to caress your cheek for a moment as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

your eyes practically twinkled as you looked up at him, pupils dilated as you nod helplessly. wooyoung smiled and patted your cheek affectionately, pecking your forehead again before sinking to his knees in between yours and san’s legs, kissing his way down your body. your eyes tracked him and his slow descent, breath held in anticipation.

“cute,” he giggled as he eyed your pink panties, slipping them off your legs and tossing them aside. he hooked your legs on either side of san’s, spreading them apart, looking up at you. “just relax, be a good girl and keep your legs like that for me, yeah?”

when you nodded, he kissed your inner thigh followed by a quiet groan as he noticed the arousal dripping from your cunt. “oh, doll, you’re so wet.”

“hm, is she?” san chimed in, one of of his hands leaving your waist to dip down and casually slide a finger through your folds; from bottom to top, applying more pressure the further he slid. you prepared yourself for his finger to get to your clit but, much to your dismay, he removed his hand just before he got there. you suppressed the urge to glare at him over your shoulder. simultaneously, wooyoung began leaving pecks all over your inner thighs.

san hummed and pressed another kiss just below your ear, whispering, his voice thick with lust, “all that and we barely even started. what a pathetic, needy mess, huh?”

the way he said it made it clear he expected an answer from you, but with how wooyoung ran a single finger through your folds, you couldn’t do much but shudder and nod. san clicked his tongue and snaked his hands further up from your waist just under your breasts, fingers brushing circles over your nipples. he waited patiently to give you more time to answer.

wooyoung’s tongue slipped out to lick a stripe from your hole to your clit and both your brain practically short-circuited. the combination of the feeling of his tongue and his wide, glossy eyes peering up at you from between your legs sending your mind reeling. he groaned as he tasted you, swearing in his head that he’d probably finish in his pants within five minutes. a sudden pinch of your nipples had you snapping out of your trance.

“say it, princess.”

“ah- i’m a mess.”

“and why are you a mess?”

you opened your mouth to answer but your own moan cut you off as wooyoung began circling your clit with his tongue. san’s lips backed away from your ear and he looked down at wooyoung, signalling for him to stop by holding up his flat palm. your chest heaved with heavy breaths as wooyoung reluctantly removed his tongue and leaned back just an inch, giving you a moment to recover.

“he won’t continue until you tell me why you’re a mess, baby.”

“because of you,” you whined, trying to press your hips closer to wooyoung’s face but to no avail as san moved his hands back down to hold you firmly by those hips he loved so much.

“good girl, that’s right,” he cooed into your ear, giving you a tender kiss. “you’re our pathetic needy mess, aren’t you?”

“your mess. i’m your mess.”

at the confirmation, san looked down at wooyoung and nodded. not even a second later wooyoung’s mouth was back on you. one of san’s hands stayed to control your hips and the other went back to massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples.

wooyoung’s pace was relentless. he ate you out like a man starved, licking up all the juices that seeped from you while he made sure to nudge his nose against your clit repeatedly. when his mouth wasn’t at your entrance, he had his lips wrapped around your clit, alternating between rhythmic sucks and prods of his tongue, one of his fingers teasingly circling your hole.

he swore he could’ve gotten drunk off your taste, finding the way you writhed in san’s lap so cute. wooyoung momentarily removed his mouth from you once again, watching your face as he tentatively pushed his finger past your entrance. he spoke, voice somewhere between a hoarse groan and a sigh.

“fuck…”

you threw your head back on san’s shoulder, suddenly aware of the hard erection pressed against your ass. you tried to rock your hips just a bit, wanting to help him, but his fingers tightened on your hips.

“keep being such a good girl and i’ll fuck you so good you won’t remember your name, but i need you to be patient. okay, princess?”

your breath hitches and you nodded at his promise, your attention being drawn back to the man between your legs as he added another finger. your breathing grew erratic.

“mmm, so tight.” he groaned, eyes fixated on the way his fingers disappeared into your before slipping out again, more and more of your slick seeping out with each thrust of his digits. wet sounds reverberated through the room as you let out a silent curse.

you thought your noises were kept to a minimum, too embarrassed to really let loose, but as soon as he curled his fingers in you—easily finding that spongey sweet spot—a proper moan ripped itself out of you. and then his tongue was back on your clit, not as firmly as you would’ve liked but enough to draw out more moans and whimpers.

at first, he took his time, fingers thrusting in and out of you at a frustrating pace, tongue only lightly brushing over your swollen pearl. but soon enough, he sped up gradually until he reached a speed that had you crying out and arching your back with every inch that he moved. all the while san muttered encouragement into your ear.

“mhm, you’re taking his fingers so well, princess.”

“can’t wait to have my cock in your tight little pussy. don’t worry, we’ll make it fit.”

“look at you, being fucked dumb just from his fingers. you can barely even keep your eyes open, huh?”

you thought you were controlling yourself well but the moment wooyoung added a third finger, the stretch burning just slightly though your wetness kept things moving smoothly, the moment san spoke all those filthy words in your ear, you felt yourself crashing over the edge. it all felt so good you didn’t even realise you were climaxing until you felt yourself shaking and stars swarming your vision.

a high pitched cry ripped through your lips, moaning wooyoung’s name as he takes his fingers out so he can slurp up your release, groaning against you. you tasted so good and if he could, he would have bottled up all the sounds you made to listen to them before bed every night. san planted tender kisses to your jaw and shoulder as wooyoung eventually removed himself.

he looked almost as fucked out as you, drunk of the juices of your pussy as he slowly got up. he took your face in his clean hand and eagerly pressed his lips against yours, making you moan as you tasted yourself on his tongue. the two of you made out slowly, sloppily, and he slowly trailed his hands down. tracing the curve of your waist before settling his hands on your hips, guiding them to grind over san’s length.

you followed his lead, arching your back to position your pussy right over his erection. that seemed to have made san lose all his composure, rasping out harshly, “woo, please lift her up for a moment.”

moments later, you were back in his lap, this time his long cock buried deep in your cunt. his hands guided your movements, his thrusts matching the pace of the roll of your hips. though he wasn’t able to see your face, fucking you in a reverse cowgirl position, he could image how fucked out you looked. cheeks painted red, glazed over eyes, swollen lips, messed up hair.

wooyoung separated his lips from you, chuckling against your mouth. you struggled to kiss him, san feeling so good in you that you had a hard time thinking straight. “does he feel good, babydoll?”

you nodded and leaned forward just slightly to attach you lips to his pretty neck, mindlessly kissing and licking your way down to his collarbones. wooyoung tilted his head back, another dark chuckle. he thought you were so cute—making sure to give him attention even though you were bouncing in another man’s dick. said man groaned and slumped back in the seat at the change of angle as you leaned forward, not pausing his movements once. ever since he first bottomed out in you he had trouble putting together sentences.

your fingers fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. most of them were undone anyway, he liked it like that when he wore button-ups, but you wanted it completely off. he noticed your trembling hands struggling and took over for you, ignoring the buttons and just pulling off the shirt. your eyes roamed over him, jaw slack.

“you’re so pretty, woo.” you whispered after burying your face in his neck again, any filter you had on your words completely gone.

“i think you’re pretty too, doll,” he chuckled into your ear. “so pretty getting off on me and sannie at once.”

you leaned back and looked him over, darting between his eyes and the erection straining against the trousers with pleading, half closed eyes. it didn’t take a genius to figure out what you wanted, making him coo as he understood you.

“oh, you want my cock? you wanna suck it? just one shoved inside you doesn’t satisfy you enough, huh, you pretty little slut?”

your head empty, unable to focus on anything other than the two men you were trapped between, you nodded. san groaned as he felt your walls clench around him.

“fuck- she likes that.”

“is that so?” wooyoung straightened up and grinned down at you, holding your jaw in his hand. “well, then, go ahead, doll, do as you please.”

at he sound of his permission, your hands found their way to his trousers, undoing the fly and letting them fall to the ground. you could already see the shape of it through his boxers, but didn’t pause to inspect it, hooking your fingers on his waistband and pulling it down to release him.

while his length was impressive, it didn’t look quite as long as san’s but rather thicker. compared to every dick you’ve seen, you decided jung wooyoung had a pretty one. the blushing tip leaked precum that you smeared around to stroke him slowly.

you looked up at him every time you tried something new with your hands, looking for his reaction—running your thumb over his tip, squeezing lightly as your hand moved down. no mater what you did, it elicited a deep moan from him. you looked entranced as you watched the way his eyelids fluttered in pleasure. you leaned forward (both you and san moaning and shuddering at the change in angle), pressing a kiss to his tip.

this new angle had san pounding against your sweet spot repeatedly without fail, making you suddenly feel like jello. still, you tried your best to focus on the task literally at hand.

wooyoung noticed your lack of concentration, threading his fingers in your hair and gently pulling to make you look up. he pouted at you mockingly. “can’t think straight enough with sannie’s cock stuffed in you? it’s ok, doll, you look so pretty and fucked out i could cum just from looking at you.”

you shook your head and pushed forward, wrapping your lips around his tip and sinking your mouth down on his length to the best of your abilities.

wooyoung groaned, “that’s it, doll, there you go. you can take just a little more, can’t you, pretty girl?”

eager to please him, you took as much of him in your mouth as you could. you felt him hit the back of your throat and pulled back, coughing around his length. he slipped his hand out of your hair and stroke your cheek, prompting you to glance up at him.

“you’re doing well, doll, just remember to breathe through your nose. i know you can take me just a bit deeper.”

you nodded at his words, swallowing a little more, and wrapped a hand around the rest that you couldn’t fit, stroking him slowly as you led your mouth get used to the feeling. truth be told, you hadn’t given anyone head before, completely relying on your intuition now.

“yeah, there you go, my pretty little doll. i knew you could do it.”

as you mouth worked on wooyoung, you felt that familiar knot tightening in your abdomen. san must’ve been close too, letting out a hearty groan as he gripped your hips tighter and thrusted up into you faster. every time he pulled you down and snapped his hip up to meet you, the lewd sound of his skin slapping against your and his balls hitting your clit had you whining against wooyoung’s cock.

he sucked in a sharp breath, shuddering before cooing down at you. “what was that, doll? i couldn’t quite hear you.”

you continued with the sucking and stroking until you thought it was impossible, repeatedly shaking too much to keep a steady pace. but you could tell wooyoung was close judging by his sounds and pulsating, and still wanting to please him, you kept your lips around his head as you hand stroked him as fast as you could.

moments later, his body tensed and he came into your mouth. the thick, slightly salty substance ran down your throat as you swallowed it all down. when you were sure he was done, you pulled yourself off him. wooyoung looked ready to pass out, leaning against the desk and staring up at the ceiling as he panted, catching his breath. silent curses left his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut.

now with wooyoung taken care of, you leaned back against san, revelling in the feeling of him pounding into you as you felt yourself coming closer and closer to the edge. you heard him gasp by your ear and you clenched down on him.

“f-fuck… i’m gonna cum.”

oh how san loves fucking you. loves the way your walls flutter around his cock. loves all the sounds you make that he was sure you weren’t even aware of. how you writhe and jerk and shudder and whine and moan and he could go on for days.

“please, sannie,” you whined softly, “please, fill me up, please please please.”

that was the last straw. the desperation in your voice has his stomach flipping and he came just as you finished your begging. a shiver ran down your spine as your body went limp. he kept himself buried in you as one of his hands slide down to rub quick and tight circles on your clit, quickly bringing you to an orgasm that had your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

once all three of you calmed down and got cleaned up, you found yourself relaxing on san’s lap again. this time, you were on one of the couches in the living room as wooyoung sat beside you. while you were in the shower, he cooked up some instant noodles, feeding them to you now.

a hand stroked the outside of your thigh comfortingly as you slurped down the last of the noodles, you recognised it as san’s hand. your legs still felt like jello and you cuddled into him as wooyoung got up to put the bowl away. you felt san press a kiss to the top of your head, practically cradling you.

“you did well, my little blue bird,” he whispered against the crown of your head and pulled you closer, “i could stay like this all day.”

“too bad because it’s my turn now.” wooyoung buckled as he returned, collapsing on the couch and snatching you of san’s grasp without warning. he stuck his tongue out at san as he held the back of you head and pressed your face into the crook of his neck, making you giggle.

san whined and reached his hands out to grab you again only to be swatted away by woo. “hey! no fair.”

“yes, it is fair,” wooyoung giggled, “you’ve had her on your lap long enough.” his best friend glared at him and muttered something under his breath as he looked away with his arms crossed.

“oh, you big baby,” you laughed as you turned your head to look at him. extending you hand to pat his knee.

san’s eyes flashed as an idea lit up in his head. he grinned as he wrapped his arms around both you and wooyoung. you weren’t sure how it happened but next thing you knew, all three of you were laying down on the couch, the two men sandwiching you lovingly.

you felt yourself blush and your brain going blank. wooyoung laughed at the expression on your face, leaning forward to kiss you until san reached over and flicked his forehead. they proceeded to argue about who should be able to kiss you more as you sighed contentedly. you realised there was no other place in earth you’d prefer to be in more than right here, nestled between the two men who you knew would take good care of you.

networks. @cromernet @blankjournal

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @hee0soo

[delirious-donna]

I Will Possess Your Heart [Nanami Kento]

an: I started thinking about Curse User!Higuruma and naturally that led to me writing... Curse User!Nanami (why am I like this?). I haven't explored this AU for him before so please be kind <3

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: dub-con (reader is willing but the warning is there so take it how you wish), Curse User AU, slight yandere behaviours, toxic traits, spanking (with open palm), unprotected sex, thoughts of baby trapping, breeding kink

Masterlist

For weeks you had been on edge. Conscious of the impossible presence that seemed to lurk in every shadowy recess, the malicious whisper of laughter on every breath of wind and the scent of someone who was long gone. Were you afraid? You should be, but you weren’t. 

In the back of your mind, if the faint traces of Cursed Energy that you sensed before disappearing as quickly as they emerged were real, it meant that he wasn’t dead, that he hadn’t been captured and executed as you had been informed.

Satoru swore he was dead, that you should put him out of your mind and move on. Especially after his betrayal, after his bloody rampage that took out more sorcerers from the three big families than any Curse User in the past twenty years. Yet, you loved him. Grew up standing right beside him until… 

Kento snapped.

You shook off the feeling of unease that had followed you around all day like a personal spectre, finally kindling the sense of security that came with approaching your apartment. It was new to you, decked out in the highest-grade security equipment that money—specifically Jujutsu High’s money—could buy.

Whilst it didn’t quite feel like home, at least you were protected. You waved at the guard posted in the entrance hall, smiling when they blushed and turned their eyes from you, a scowl creasing their brow. Shaking your head in humorous exasperation, you travelled the remaining distance to your front door with the tension of the day melting from your shoulders.

Little did you realise that the precious bubble of safety you believed yourself to be protected by was about to pop like a thorn piercing an overinflated balloon. 

Kento observed from the shadows, watching, seething. They’d moved you. Lied to you. Kept his name from caressing your tongue, and he had more than had enough. He hated the games played by the higher-ups of the Jujutsu world, hated the politics and strategic alliances of the big three families which were no more than thinly veiled facades to cover the knife in the back that was around every corner. Power play far worse than the corporate drudgery he had tried to escape to, though he was ashamed to admit how long it took for him to finally open his eyes to it all.

They deserved what had transpired. He would ensure that the pain he inflicted would only be the first taste of his retribution. Hate was too emotional a word to use for those he considered to be less than human, and it was his mission to be the one to eliminate them all. Perhaps, Suguru had been right all along.

You were the exception, the one and only person he wanted to protect from the white-hot fury that poured through his veins like magma spewing from an erupting volcano, its path steady and devastating. He was still furious, and rightly so. The second you turned your face from his, he felt the last shreds of his bruised heart wither in his chest. You turned to Satoru and Shoko instead of moving towards him. You chose to remain in a world that cast him out, that actively tried to hunt and bring him down. 

He refused to believe that you had picked them over him. No. You were bewitched by the six eyes, hoodwinked by a false narrative that they were the good ones, and he was the monster. Kento couldn’t blame you, he had believed the lies for just as long and it was only now that he stood on the outside, peering in, that he could recognise the lies for what they were. 

It would be okay. He would enlighten you. After he punished you.

The front door unlocked with a quiet snick; the interior bathed in cool darkness that held no hint of the impending situation. Your fingers instinctively found the light switch, flicking it once and then twice when the bulb didn’t flare to life as it should. Click click click. Had there been a power outage? No, the neighbouring apartments were as well-lit as normal. 

Something crunched underfoot when you stepped deeper into your apartment, and that was when you realised the trap you had fallen into. Only then did your nose inhale the warm scent which had plagued you for all these long weeks, the rich aroma of expensive coffee mixed with leather and spices you couldn’t name. Only now did it intertwine with coppery, bitter notes of blood and the unforgettable reek of death. An impossibly hard body slammed into your back, sending you tumbling forward and only just catching yourself before your knees slammed into what you now knew was the broken glass of the bulb above.

The bodily contact lasted all of one second before he disappeared again. Your eyes had yet to adjust to the pure darkness that no longer felt comforting, and fear kept you from bathing yourself in the brilliance of your Cursed Energy, certain it would only help him target you all the quicker. Instead, you slapped a hand over your mouth to silence the sound of your breathing, crouching into a defensive position and fumbling forward. You weren’t as intimately familiar with the layout of this apartment as you were with the one you had lived in prior. All you could do was control the pulse of fear thrumming through your body and ignore the competing reaction that spoke of hungry anticipation. 

Kento smirked, head canting sideways whilst he watched you flail pathetically. If you wanted him dead, then he would already be a corpse on the floor, but that would never be the case, would it? His eyes had long adjusted to the absence of light, gaze following you around the room as you bumped into furniture and flinched at every touch. He could smell the terror escaping your pores. He could almost taste the frantic beat of your pulse on his tongue. Patience wasn’t a new concept to him, but right now... he found his fingers flexed deep into his thighs.

He waited until the kitchen island was at your back, stepping with silent footsteps around you and leaning back against the granite. You moved in a slow, perfect circle with your arm outstretched. Your fingertips came within an inch of grazing his abdomen, but alas, his calculations were as perfect as ever. When your back was to him once more, both arms shot out to tug you with one forceful effort into his chest. You struggled; arms pinned by your sides, but his hold was impenetrable as it always had been.

“Kento?” 

Kento laughed and even to his ear it sounded cold and devoid of emotion. “A silly question,” he answered. His voice was rough, unused for many days and the effect resulted in a ripple of something unspeakable down your spine, dripping—dripping—until you swallowed harshly and tried to twist your head around to see him.

“I think not... that luxury will be earned. I didn’t take you for such a silly girl,” Kento mocked, tightening his hold on your biceps until you squirmed in painful discomfort. “But then again, I didn’t take you for someone who would abandon me, and I was proven wrong there.”

You felt the temperature of his body skyrocket. His essence crept into you in every imaginable way, tendrils of his fiery anger licked against your bones and whilst you wanted to sob at this unexpected reunion, the rational part of your brain roared to life. He left you! He abandoned his friends and colleagues. He broke the hearts of the students who looked up to him, and yours... your heart hadn’t even begun to mend. The relief you should have felt for knowing what that poor shell of a heart had done all along, that he wasn’t dead, was a secondary reaction.

“I didn’t abandon you. How dare you say that... I thought you were dead!” 

“Did you now? I guess I should add stupid to your list of transgressions, or perhaps gullible would be more fitting. Since when did you take everything the six eyes tells you as gospel?” Kento gripped your chin with finger and thumb, the scent of his skin so close to your nose that the salty tang invaded effortlessly. With one fluid movement, he wrenched your head around and pressed a hot kiss to your lips.

The action was so unexpected that you gasped into the depths of his mouth, lips parted in surprise and Kento refused to miss the opportunity to let his tongue curl past your teeth and stroke along the pink muscle he had long admired and desired above all else. He tasted like coffee, nothing to be surprised by, given his penchant for the most expensive French roast. What did blindside you, aside from the kiss itself, was the sweet caramel that chased those bitter notes. Even now, the mellow caramel burst upon your tastebuds and brought an abundance of saliva to your mouth. The kiss was heady, all teeth and tongues, until it ended abruptly, and you were shoved forward.

It was a well-aimed push to propel you over the seat of the kitchen stool, and he smiled when he heard the air knock loose from your lungs. Before you could brace your arms onto the plush leather padding and try to stand, he moved up and let his heavy palm rest at the back of your neck, squeezing firmly. “Hold onto the legs of the stool, let’s see if you can redeem yourself.”

Did you wish to redeem yourself? Did you even believe you had anything to atone for? Shockingly, your hands trailed lower until your fingers curled around the cool brushed metal. Your heart was in your throat. Tears threatened to sting your eyes but only the desire to grit your teeth and prove that you were still the woman he had once trusted above all others outweighed your loyalty to the people trying to protect you. Keeping you in the dark was no protection, it was no life to lead when the man at your back no longer looked upon you with that crinkle of warm hazel eyes that you loved.

“There’s a good girl. I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking with the right incentive,” he cooed whilst leaning over the curve of your spine and planting one wet kiss to the juncture between your neck and shoulder. With his lips so close to your ear, a rumble of laughter was followed by words you never dreamed of hearing from him. “Imagine how receptive you’ll be when I fit my cock in your pretty little cunt.” 

Happy with your position, and certain you weren’t going to go crashing to the floor, he let his hand loosen from your neck and traversed the path of your spine. His fingertips grazed over every bump and ridge beneath the thin material of your blouse until his palm found your backside. He pawed at you once, filling his broad hand with the meat of you and imagining himself doing this to you on both sides without the barrier of clothing in his way whilst his heavy cock sawed between the cleft of your cheeks. There would be time for that, all the time in the world if he had his way.

Your eyes had finally adjusted to the lack of light, the shapes of your apartment now visible and yet you chose to squeeze your eyes shut to it all. It heightened your remaining senses, the even breathing of your captor injected with muffled little noises of satisfaction when you complied without question. His hand rounded your hip, kneading you before searching for the button and zipper of your trousers. At that, your eyes flew open, and a startled squeak escaped your tight throat. It didn’t deter him—oh no—if anything he delighted in your reaction, slowing the descent of your zipper so that every scrape of metal against metal as the teeth released tore at your nerves until they were frayed.

“Lift,” he commanded, crouched low at your feet and tapping your ankle until you did as requested and your trousers were divested of you completely. The air-conditioning was conveniently not on, leaving your bare legs to feel prickly and clammy with the warm air permeating the room and worsened by the heat of Kento’s hands as they slid from heel to backside. 

He hummed when they reached the waistband of the black thong which did so very little to cover your modesty. You wriggled, experiencing the weight of his hungry stare and clenching your thighs together in the hopes of hiding the small yet very obvious damp spot on the cotton. “If I didn’t know any better, I would have said you were expecting my visit… you wouldn’t let anyone else see these, would you?”

Rough calluses scraped your soft derriere, toying with the fabric that disappeared between your cheeks and cupped your beautiful sex. You mewled out a ‘no’, readjusting your hold on the legs given how sweaty your palms had become and basked in the answering grunt of appreciation when your backside swayed in nothing but pure temptation. Kento wanted to rip apart the threads holding him back from you, to take out his cock that had been pulsing for release since before you even entered the apartment and force your walls to accommodate him. Fuck… he would envelop you in him—only him. 

Rub his scent right into your untainted soul until it was soiled just like he wanted. 

Paint your womb with his seed with the chance of it taking. His eyes rolled over at the thought alone.

Later.

He would see you ruined beneath him soon enough, he merely needed to get your punishment over. Kento needed to hear your apology—heartfelt and sobbed through a veil of tears. Without warning his palm reared back and with the sound of a whipcrack he brought it down against your right cheek. You struggled, bucked at the impact that forced your eyes to bulge and your throat to convulse. Only his palm at the middle of your back kept you in position.

The pain was not as immediate as you assumed it would be. It was more the startle of having it happen so unexpectedly that kicked you into action, on the heels was the warm tingle of your backside. Pulses of pain moved outwardly from the impact site like a stone causing ripples on a calm lake. “Ken—"

“Uh uh. This is not time for speaking,” he chided with a click of tongue against perfectly white teeth and a tone that silenced you instantly. “This is the least you could endure after you ripped my heart out of my chest and crushed it beneath your heel. Ten. That will suffice, and then we can converse like proper adults. Until then, the only words out of those pretty lips are going to be the number we are on.”

He didn’t even wait for your reply, knowing that you would take whatever he chose to gift you like a champ. You were strong, always had been, and this was nowhere near enough to break your spirit. Kento didn’t want that, he wanted the real you that he had fallen for all those years ago as an emotionally stunted young man. You would come to understand his point of view when presented enough evidence and he had stacks of that to show you. Not now. Later, he thought again. So much had to wait but patience was his forte. 

Standing to his impressive height, he skimmed his palm over your tender backside and let out a bark of laughter when you tensed, waiting for what was to come. He waited until you relaxed, listening to your breathing mellow before delivering a short, hard smack to your left side. “Good girl,” he murmured thickly when you hissed out a ‘two’ from between clenched teeth. 

Kento was painfully hard; the length of his cock pressed stubbornly down the leg of his trousers to lay trapped against his thigh. His every inhale was like a knife to his groin, every squeeze of the muscles in your backside was a torture that he was inflicting upon himself. He twitched, precum dribbling down his thigh and turning the golden hairs of his legs sticky and wet. He would see this through. It was for the greater good, of that, he was convinced.

The repetition was agony. A vicious cycle that felt like it would never end though you had a target so close yet so far. A wealth of salty tears sprung from your eyes, falling to the floor to gather as a pitiful little puddle given the gravity of your head and body. Blood rushed through your ears; the pounding of your pulse nearly loud enough to drown out the weight of the smacks levelled against your arse. The plump tissue ached endlessly, throbbing to its own beat and it left you trapped inside your head. 

This was Kento—your Kento—delivering a punishment he deemed necessary, and you poked at his earlier words. If you were honest with yourself, you had suspected that the attraction between you was a mutual one and that the feelings ran deeper than either of you was willing to admit. You pondered how you would have felt if he had been the one to turn from you, taking the morality of who was wrong and right out of the equation, you would have been devastated.

Noiselessly, you wept for the connection you had lost all those months ago. You should be repulsed by the blood that stained his hands, but you couldn’t find it in you when all you wished to do was pull those bloodied hands to your mouth and suck the fingers between your lips. How badly you wanted to hear him groan in pleasure, to cup your face and drag his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip until it bounced back into place. 

“Ten…” 

Kento’s harsh breathing became apparent, the sound building in your ears whilst you dared not move an inch. Sweat caked your skin—hot and uncomfortable—it slid over the natural dips and curves of your frame, and you knew your face was warm enough to cook eggs. Your fingers slid against the metal legs resulting in a loud squeak and you winced… waiting, suspended in a moment that couldn’t last forever, the spell would be broken but by whom?

The rustle of clothing popped the bubble you were both suspended in, the telltale jangle of a metal belt buckle and stammered curses brought your focus behind you, your head turning to find Kento with an expression you had never seen before and undressed from the waist down. He looked like he was ready to explode. A thick vein popped from his temple, throbbing against the etched scowl and snarled mouth. You moaned and his eyes snapped to you, lips curling back from teeth to show you the ferocity firing through his veins.

Without a word, Kento moved you, so you were bent over the kitchen island, and you sighed from the reprieve of the awkward position you had been forced to hold. The buttons of your blouse skittered across the kitchen tiles when two powerful hands fisted either side of them and ripped it open. His mouth and hands were everywhere and all at once.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he admitted. Wet kisses decorated the side of your neck, lips moulding over your pulse and humming happily at the frantic rhythm that mirrored his own. The brush of his bare thighs against yours elicited a guttural groan, taking the opportunity to reach back and scratch at the rough undercut at his nape, fingers delving into his hair and pressing him deeper into the crook of your neck whilst he marked you as his.

“…’m sorry, Kento. Please forgive me,” you sobbed brokenly, completely torn between burning joy and icy regret. An urgent hand pressed between your legs, thick fingers prodding and feeling the sopping fabric slick with arousal and sculpted to the molten heat of your swollen lips.

“Fuck. Save your apologies. I’ll hear them later, preferably whilst you’re gagging around my cock.”

Your backside rippled from the impact of his pelvis slamming into you, pulling a pained hiss from your lips. Kento chuckled darkly, the heat of your abused flesh warming that part of his soul that refused comfort until this very moment. He had no time to spare to remove your underwear, having used up all his patience in the measured delivery of his hand against your perfect behind. Ignoring the sharp prickling sensation radiating in his palm, he simply shoved them aside until he could push his heavy cock through. He wanted to ask if you were this wet because of the spanking or if you were merely pleased to see him, but the beastly part of his brain was firmly in the driver’s seat.

He was merciless; kicking your feet apart to widen your stance, tapping the fat head of his cock against your swollen clit and roaring in triumph when you pushed back against him. One second, he was teasing you, the next he was notched at your cunt and shunting himself forward. Kento gripped your hip, pulling you back whilst he worked inside, and the stretch was exactly what you expected. Every inch tickled your insides, thick veins stark and massaged by gummy walls made to take him.

“That’s it… there we go. God, look at you. Your pretty pussy is sucking me in… mm, more? All yours, sweetheart.” He crooned his lust-roughened rhetoric, and all you could do was hold onto the counter so your knees wouldn’t give out entirely. They shook with the force of his thrusts whilst he held you so tightly as if he worried you would slip through his fingers again. Not a fucking chance. You were his, and he wanted you to know that.

“Mine,” he growled, spittle flecking your shoulder as he bent over your body and bit into your tender skin. You howled, a mixture of pleasure and pain lighting up your insides. Stars winked in and out of your vision and you danced on your tippy toes as an orgasm near forced him out of you. If not for his determination to remain in the heart of your body, abusing the soft tissue near your belly, you would have expelled him with the force of your release.

Kento crowed like a maniacal king. Fucking you right through your high without a care for the overstimulation that left you whimpering and drooling onto the granite countertop. Your cheek pressed against the cool surface, eyes flickering between open and shut as you fought the desire to pass out. The pressure of your pulsing walls, the suction of your cunt drawing him back inside each time he pulled back was his undoing, and although he had planned to cum down your throat so he could see your tear-stained face, he couldn’t pull out. His balls drew close to his body, the familiar drip of impending release stirring at the small of his back but so much more intense than ever before. His head was thrown back at the first spurt of seed exploding outward to knock up against your fertile womb with only thoughts of what it might be like to have your soft stomach grow with his child on his mind.

Never had he produced so much, and he wondered if he had been saving it up for you. A ridiculous thought had he been in his right mind, but you both knew that wasn’t the case. His hands gentled, bruises forming the pattern of his fingertips marked your hips and waist. He smiled, the first true smile in what felt like forever. Soon he was laughing, and the jostle made you moan out, his softening cock twitching in your cunt and tickling you.

“I think I am more than ready to hear your apology, little dove.”

And you were more than ready to give it to him, after all… Kento possessed your heart.

[sttm99]

TW..? Mentions of oral

Part 1

In as much as you loved summer for the long school break, beach days, and the opportunity to wear little clothes and even littler bikinis, you absolutely abhored the heat.

It was horrid.

And the store's air conditioning broke down the night before, so you had been stuck in the melting pot for at least three hours after you began your morning shift, three hours until the repair man came over to work on it.

And judging by the grunts he'd been making back there, you were certain you'd spend the next hour exactly how you were, sitting back in your chair behind the counter, one of the store's only three standing fans propped right infront of you and your magazine another makeshift fan.

"The fuck- I'm boiling already!"

You perked up just slightly at the groan, already recognising the voice. You turned around to face the door, a smile lighting your face as you caught sight of those four boys again.

"Yo! What brings you guys to the best sauna in Musutafu!" You sang out, still aggressively fanning yourself with the magazine.

"Sauna's definitely right." Bakugo grumbled out, slowly pulling at the collar of his shirt as he approached the counter, "Gimme some of that fan, will ya?"

"No, me!" Kaminari yelled and practically rushed forward.

"I've got high metabolism, I sweat quicker." Sero chimed in.

But you just scoffed at them, "Hello? I'm the one in here for a five hour shift. Get your own shit!" You scooted closer to the fan, soaking in all the air.

They all groaned, Bakugo louder than others, muttering something you didn't catch under his breath.

"What are you guys here for again, anyways? More drinks?" You raised a brow.

"Yep!" Sero said.

"And we wanted to invite you for a beach day." Kaminari grinned, hands on the counter as he leaned forward.

Kirishima stepped forward. "It's just us and like four other people - girls, so you shouldn't feel too overwhelmed."

You thought about it for a while. It's not like you really had any plans after your shift. So you just shrugged and nodded.

"Sure, I get off in like thirty minutes. What time?"

Which was how you found yourself near the back of the group next to Bakugo as you all made your way closer to the water.

Not only had they stayed until the end of your shift, when one of your coworkers came over to start their time, but then they'd followed you home and waited for you to take a shower and get changed.

Your mother was a bit apprehensive about having her daughter going to the beach with four guys she didn't know, but Kirishima was freakishly good with adults, reassuring her that she was in good hands.

That and they'd all pulled out their provisional hero licenses.

"Guys!" A pink skinned girl burst into your line of sight, hurling right into Kirishima. A group of three others - not pink skinned - joined in - not bulldozing the boys.

It was easy to recognise the other students of UA; their faces had become regulars on the news channel by now.

You didn't even have the chance to be awkward when Kaminari started aggressively showing you off to the girls like some action figure.

"This is YN!

She works at that convenience store we got those drinks at!

She's so cool!

Look at her!"

It had the girls laughing and greeting you, and had Bakugo scoffing, rolling his eyes as he marched away to lay down his bag on the sand.

"Hi, I'm Mina." She greeted, her hand around your wrist as she spoke. "This is Tsuyu, Jiro, and Ochako."

"YN," you responded. "I know you guys, by the way. 'Seen you on the news a few times."

"Seriously?" Jiro asked softly as she leaned into you.

"OMG- I'm literally famous now!" Mina squealed, wrapping her arms around you tightly and jumping a bit. "Did I look cute?"

You laughed, jumping with her. "Really cute. Badass, too."

"You guys! There's snacks!"

Most of you were seated now on Mina's very large blanket, the bag of snacks and drinks in the middle as you watched Mina and Kirishima have a chicken fight battle with Ochako and Sero.

"So...?" you whispered to Bakugo beside you, taking the bag of gummy bears he was currently fighting with. "How did it go?" You asked as you calmly tore the top of the bag and handed it over to him.

He glared at it for a moment, then at you, then the bag again, before snatching it and dipping his hand in.

It took him a while to answer you. "It was fine." He mumbled, willing the tips of his ears not to turn pink.

You hummed as you put your hand out to him for the gummy bears. He tilted the bag, pouring a couple into your palm. "You guys together now, or...?"

He shook his head. "Nah... just friends."

"Do you want to be together?"

Normally, Bakugo wouldn't even dream of engaging in such a conversation with someone who was practically a stranger. It was too private and too embarrassing for him to talk about. But for some reason, he couldn't help it. Your presence was too calming, too inviting even. You seemed so void of judgement.

It was what made him ask for your advice that first time, what made him ask for your number, too. And yet there was something about you that had him sweating and unable to text, had him deleting his words every time he typed them down in your chat.

"I don't know." He mumbled, eyeing how Kaminari pulled Jiro away somewhere, and how Tsuyu went over to stare at, or talk to, some of the fish, leaving only you two on the blanket.

"You don't know?" You raised a brow at him.

He huffed, keeping his eyes on the gummy bears, knowing that if he turned his head again, he probably wouldn't able to stop himself from glancing at your scantily covered skin.

"I just- out of everyone, she's the one I'd want be with. But... I don't know if I actually do." He frowned, trying to find better words to use.

But you seemed to understand just fine, reaching out your palm for another round of gummy bears. "Sounds like you like her cause she's the best option. Not that you really like her."

He was silent as he took in what you said.

"Yeah." He mumbled.

"Oi, you guys!" Sero called out to the two of you from where he was, running around in the water with Uraraka, Mina, and Kirishima. "Come on! Don't be boring!"

You chuckled at that, leaning forward to push yourself to stand.

"Hey," Bakugo quickly whispered to you, his hand reaching out to hold your wrist, stopping you just before you could get up. "Don't go yet."

And there was something in the way he said it, the intensity of his eyes, that had you stopping, relaxing back into your position before he pulled his hand away.

He looked back at Kirishima, "I'm not playing with you idiots!" He yelled in true Bakugo fashion.

"YN?" Kirishima called out to you.

You just offered him a wave and a smile. "Later."

He shrugged, going back to running from Kiri and Uraraka.

You turned back to Bakugo. "You don't want to join them?" You asked, collecting another round of gummies.

He shook his head, eyes on your hand as they dipped into the plastic bag. "They're idiots."

You hummed, laughing softly as you popped some gummies into your mouth. "And I'm not?"

He looked up at you, brows set low, and lips curled downwards. "You're not."

Maybe it was how he said it, or how he looked at you as he said it, but your stomach tightened a bit, and suddenly, Bakugo was attractive.

You looked at him as he pressed forward to grab another pack of gummies from the bag, watching the way the muscles of his back stretched and contracted, the flow of his hair, his jaw, his neck, his biceps and forearms.

He tossed you the bag instantly as he sat back down, and you smirked at him cheekily as you tore it open.

"Can't open a bag, Bakugo?" You teased.

He turned to glare at you, snatching the bag. "My quirk makes my hands sweaty." He scoffed, picking up some gummy bears.

Then he looked at you for a long moment before speaking up again. "I'm gonna go wash them. Come."

He stood up, and you followed suit, walking after him as he led the way to the washroom, both of you ignoring the looks you knew you were getting from the others.

You stood next to the sink as Bakugo washed his hands, eyeing the pale tiled walls and floors. "So... you sweat a lot?" You raised a brow.

He turned to glare at you as he dried his hands under the blower. "That's what you got from the explanation?" He'd just explained the entire mechanism of his quirk, and all you could say was that he sweats a lot?

You shrugged, an amused look on your face. "That's the backbone to it, honestly. Bakugo's a sweaty-palmed mess." You chuckled.

He shook his head in mock disappointment, sighing. "What am I going to do with you?"

You grinned. "Get me more gummies...?" You laughed.

He scoffs before looking down at his hands in distaste, thumbing at his palms. "This shit always makes them so fucking dry."

You glanced down at his palms before reaching out to hold on, rubbing aggressively on it.

"The fuck are you doing?" He says, but doesn't bother to pull away, he steps closer, so now you feel surrounded by him.

"I don't know. But my friend likes doing this when her hands are dry. She says it helps." You shrug, your mouth going dry.

"It's not working." He says to you. And his voice is lower than usual, breathier.

You let out a soft hum, your lower lip caught between your lips as you slow your ministrations. And just as you're about to let go of his hands, he grips yours, keeping you close and leaning down to catch your lips with his.

Your surprise is short, and you're immediately wrapping your other hand around his neck and kissing him back. His lips are soft, softer than what you'd expected.

And he's gentler, too. His free hand comes to softly hold your waist as he kisses you, mouth moving against yours so softly, so sensually, you're almost squirming.

He licks into your mouth expertly, tongue relaxed as he explores, drawing more mewls from you.

You pull away for a moment. "There's no way you were a virgin a week ago." You furrow your brows at, breathing heavily, your faces still close to each other, and your hand still clasped around the back of his neck. The way this boy is staring at you and breathing into your lips has you dizzy.

"I hadn't fucked doesn't mean I can't kiss. I'm amazing at everything." He retorts before he presses into your lips again.

"You practice kissing in the mirror, right?" You pull away again with a shit eating grin.

He glares and leans back in.

"Oh, I am so right, aren't I?" You pull away again.

"No, you just talk too fucking much." He spits out in frustration as he lets go of your hand, both of his palms now tightly gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him.

He crashes his lips into yours, backing you into the door and pressing his bare chest against your bikini covered one. Bakugo groans into your mouth when he feels your breasts flat against him, his lips growing greedy.

One of your hands is tracing the muscles of his abdomen, gliding up and down the hard ridges of flesh contracting with each deep groan from his mouth, whilst the other is in his hair, pushing his face closer.

You spend what feels like an hour in there, Bakugo's mouth attacking every inch of free skin his lips could reach, groaning at the sounds you made when his fingers were gliding down your stomach, dipping into your bikini bottoms and into you.

When you finally get back to the beach, everyone is on the blanket, and even Jiro and Kaminari are back. You'd cum once on his tongue, though it'd taken a while with his inexperience and you having to keep giving pointers on how to touch you with his fingers and his tongue.

But he was willing to learn and even more willing to make you feel good. And you'd rewarded him by shoving his dick down your throat.

"You guys took a while," Mina commented with a sly look on her face when you and Bakugo sat back down.

The latter just grunted, grabbing the last bag of gummies as he sat down next to Kirishima, shifting slightly so you could sit next to him.

You gave her a look before mumbling a quick lie about a long line and poor plumbing. Not like anyone believed. That and the fact that Bakugo just casually gave you the pack of gummy bears to open for him.

"Sure." Mina murmured.

You couldn't be bothered, really. And neither could he.

Tags: @lovra974 @khadeejanaur

[aangelinakii]

DRUNK WORDS, SOBER THOUGHTS.

— unexpected late night call.

summary : jason's always had a thing for his best friend's sibling. when they ask him to pick them up from a bar because roy would kill them, jason can't help but help a friend in need.

after coming home from patrol tonight, jason wasn't expecting a call from you, especially with your words sounding so slurred. it was unlike you, or at least what he knew about you.

"hey, jace, i've been drinking in your part of town. do you think you can come get me? roy would literally kill me if he knew i'd been drinking down here." those were your words, or, at least, what he could make out through your blurry voice and hiccups.

if jason were your brother, he would kill you himself, too. no blaming roy.

despite being the son of a billionaire, jason preferred to keep out the way, in his own little bubble. it was just a shame the only little bubble he could find was in the dark, dingy cauldron. not a safe place to get drunk in.

he could agree the bars were good, surprisingly. they sold good stuff. but the people couldn't be trusted; even as a man his size, he knew if he wanted to get trashed at a bar, it had to be at a club in bristol, or the safety of his own home.

it wasn't long before jason pulled up outside the bar he had to strain his ears to decipher, and made out your swaying figure lingering on the pavement outside. jesus...

he was quick to hop out his car and hurry to your side, looping a supportive arm around your upper back. your frame bubbled with a hiccup beneath him, and he patiently led your stumbling legs to the passenger's seat of his sedan.

"what are you doing drinking in the cauldron?" jason tried to conceal his sigh as he fell into the driver's seat beside you, and close the door behind him, quick to turn on the heating.

"birthday," you hummed in return, lids falling low over your eyes as you sunk into the warm seat, a nice contrast to both the sweaty pub and nippy air outside.

this time, jason was unable to hide his surprise, turning to you with raised eyebrows. "it's your birthday?" he should've known.

but his surprise quickly bubbled into embarrassment as you huffed out a laugh, shaking your head.

"no, doof," you snickered, peering over at him with your tired, hazy eyes. "friend's."

made sense. he swore it wasn't your birthday any time soon; but he mostly just did that to make himself feel better for jumping to conclusions.

jason's big, scarred hands took hold of the steering wheel, and his feet, still fitted in his heavy boots from patrol, moved to the pedals. with a vrum, the car began to move down the road, lined with drunkards.

a few beats of silence passed between you, and jason watched out the corner of his eye as you leaned forward to press at the stereo, one of his cd's humming to life.

soft shoegaze flowed through the speakers, something you immediately recognised as slowdive, despite your intoxication, and a chuckle brushed past your lips as you leaned back.

"didn't cast you as the slowdive type."

the driver beside you cleared his throat, and he momentarily took his eyes off the road to adjust the stereo, changing it from his cd rack to the radio. "i'm not," he responded sheepishly, although trying to push out a tone of toughness. "where to, then? i guess not to roy."

deciding not to push it, you turned out the window, small bemused smile upon your lips. "roy would kill me." your words were slow as you spoke, an effort to be more inteligible.

wincing as you spoke, you turned to jason with a soft grimace. "can we go back to yours?" a pang gave in your chest as you caught sight of jason's side-eye as the car passed an amber streetlight. now you've done it; gone and called him to pick you up, and then ask him to go back to his. some friend you are, putting him in this position. "i'll make it up to you."

who was jason to decline?

his jaw clenched, and you could hear him breath deeply. your own heart thudded in anticipation.

from beside you, jason let out a gravelly sigh. "fine."

with a dizzy grin, you leaned forward to spin the knob on the stereo, turning up the muffled music. something new on the charts you had yet to hear yet, so there was no use singing along.

soon, jason was pulling up outside his apartment block, and clicking off the music.

"how good are you walking, pipsqueak?" he asked as he pulled the keys from the ignition, and the car gave a grunt as the power left its body.

a scoffed brushed past your lips as your fingers limply grabbed for the door handle, attempting to lift your knees but only grunting. don't get too cocky now.

with a pair of scrunched-together eyebrows, you turned to jason, grumbling at that bemused smile on his stupid lips. you didn't have to speak to answer his question.

he chuckled, and his door clicked open as he pulled on the handle. you watched through the windshield as your brother's best friend grinned stupidly to himself to get to your side.

there would be an unspoken agreement between the two of you to never let roy know about this.

your saviour peeled open the passenger side door and held a hand out, and you noticed that his palm was wrapped in bandage that was beginning to seep a browny-red. best not to ask. chucking wryly, you took hold of his hand, and didn't have to make much of an effort to stand, as jason was strong enough to do so.

roy always went on about how strong he was, often walking into your bedroom in the apartment you shared (gotham rent is too high in the nice parts!) just to flex in your mirror, but when he brought jason round — his best friend — you could tell the immediate winner. jason todd, by a landslide.

shutting the door and locking the car behind you, jason wrapped an arm around your waist, expertly holding you up on your stumbling feet, and escorted you into the lobby of his apartment building. if he weren't trying to help your drunkness, the affection could have been mistaken for something more than friendly. but you were under the influence. he knew better.

it was a struggle getting you up the steps to his floor, but jason got you there eventually, setting you down on the couch, gaze lingering for a moment as you swayed.

hands on hips, jason spoke down to you, voice a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "you eat anything before going out? drink any water at all tonight?"

letting out a soft hiccup, you shook your head slowly, eyes closing to try to eliminate the harsh beginnings of a headache that had began to blossom in the back of your cranium.

in return, the tall man tutted, mouth pursing to the side. he stepped away from the sitting area, and you could hear the distant flush of a faucet coming to life, the muted sound of a glass being filled with water.

he was back, carefully handing you the almost-full glass as he lowered himself to perch on the ledge of the stout coffee table before the couch, hands hovering outside yours as your own grip wobbled with the weight of the cup. after sending him a look, he backed off. you could handle it. maybe.

"the couch okay for you?" jason hummed after a moment, corner of his mouth quirked up, watching you sip gingerly at the tasteless water, although the colour was beginning to return to your face, the blur in your eyes clearing. "or dare i ask if you want my bed?"

pulling the glass from your lips, you swallowed your mouthful before allowing yourself to chuckle and shake your head. "couch is fine." your voice was small, a little crackly and tired.

with another hum, jason stood, and pulled a folded blanket from the back of a bust-up armchair beside the sofa. he traded the blanket for your half-empty glass, and sat against the coffee table again.

unfolding the size of the blanket, watching it get larger and larger, you began to lean back against the plush sofa, prepared for slumber to take over. however, the breath hitched in your throat, and your movements stopped, as the sensation of rough fingertips grazed against your ankle.

when you looked down, vision still owning a blur, jason was helping you with your shoes, so you could put your feet on the couch without a worry.

once you were free, and jason had discarded your shoes by one leg of the coffee table, you tugged your feet beneath the blanket, and sunk down into the cushions. for such a guy jason was, you were surprised by how comfortable he'd made his living room.

head sinking into a plush pillow, you peered up at jason from beneath heavy eyelids. he'd perched his chin in his hand, watching you carefully, eyes and smile soft, black hair touselled.

"jason?" you hummed, and you could see the way his smile widened for a moment before falling neutral.

he leaned closer to you, ears aching to hear you through the slight slur of your tongue and the small volume.

"you know you've always been my favourite of roy's friends." and you couldn't help but chuckle tiredly, the soft laugh morphing into a yawn.

but jason didn't laugh in return, only watching as your eyes slowl fluttered shut. if only you knew that you've always been his favourite of roy's siblings. and he's only got one of those.