#swam and shot over and over worked great

[pinkpuffballdude]

the level description: cover everything in ink!

me, autism: heeheehee brrrrrrrrrrrrr

[youssefguedira]

watching ripley again while normal IS changing my opinion on the show somewhat. very silly still fun to watch but like. it is SO stripped down and sometimes a liiiiiittle bit robotic and i GET that's what they're going for but on this watch i am sometimes not vibing with it. however i think this is in turn making the show all the more compelling for the fact that i cannot decide how i even feel about it

[flowerandblood]

The Cry of the Sea

Halloween Request Oneshots Series

[ pirate! • Aemond x mermaid! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, virginity loss, fingering, smut, angst, abduction, violence, threats, obsession ]

[ description: A mermaid who rarely surfaces of the water decides to save a drowning boy. While she tries to keep him safe, she is kidnapped by strange, terrifying people, taken away from her mother and her home. On her way, she meets a captain with one eye who will decide her future fate. Obsessive, possessive, dark!Aemond.]

*Warning! Note from the author: The heroine has a name because of the plot, but apart from that there are no detailed descriptions of her appearance. Oneshot is written from a third-person perspective.

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

____

She had only heard about who people were from stories, and what she learned made her rarely floated to the surface of the water – her mother said they were cruel, that they killed through need, waged wars and destroyed each other.

She also said that in order to walk on the ground they needed two limbs, as they had two arms, so in place of their fins were to be so-called legs.

She never dared to ask her mother how she knew such things – she spoke of something like a sound, like music, that it reverberated through the air and was pleasant to the ears, that it had a rhythm, that people danced and jumped to it.

She couldn't imagine it; she, her mother and the other inhabitants of the underwater city communicated with finger gestures.

One day she was awakened by a muffled bang, something she had never heard before, and she swam out into the night depths, seeing little. She widened her eyes in surprise to see not the night sky but an orange glow above the surface of the water. She looked back, thinking in horror that she should return to her shelter, but decided that she would just look out to see what was happening, to see if they were in danger.

So she surfaced, feeling the air in her nostrils which caused her pain – she used them so rarely that her lungs were not properly developed and she felt like she was suffocating.

She plugged her ears, terrified, hearing loud shot after shot, the great mountain with sails that her mother called a ship was hitting another masthead with fire, and she was between them, not understanding what was happening. She panicked, hiding under the water again.

The sound was instantly muffled as she plunged into the depths – she heard suddenly a loud splash beside her and saw the body of a white-haired boy struggling to lift himself up.

She could see his limbs, his legs unable to lift him higher like her fin, merely waving fruitlessly in the watery depths, his body sinking lower and lower to the bottom.

She remembered her mother's words about how people couldn't breathe underwater and once they fell into it, they died.

That's why she swam after him, terrified, grasping him in her hands; he was struggling, terrified, but she managed to hold him and they emerged from the water together, panting loudly and coughing.

"Daeron!" She heard a loud, low, desperate cry, which frightened her – for the first time she heard the words, human speech – it sounded strange, not like the noise of the water.

"Here!" She heard the childish, squeaky cry of the boy she was holding and plugged her ear with one hand, feeling a terrible pain. She heard the splash of water beside them and saw that a much smaller boat had fallen into the water.

There were people in it, big, pale, dirty, frightening.

She wanted to run away, but she was afraid that if she let go the boy would start sinking again, so she held him until they came closer. She helped him get into the boat, panting hard, shivering all over, the men who sat inside looked at her in disbelief.

"Holy Seven. I think it's a mermaid!"

"Kill her, she can deceive with her singing!"

"Are you mad?! We'll get a fortune for her! We take her, let the captain decide."

She heard loud sounds spoken quickly, feeling like her head was going to explode – she wanted to turn around and submerge herself back, but she felt a large hand grab her by her hair.

Something strange came out of her throat, a sort of high-pitched squeal that frightened her alone, and then she felt burning wetness in her eyes. Even though she was fighting her way out she didn't make it, another man grabbed her by her shoulders and forcibly threw her into the lifeboat.

She was feeling that she was cold and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering all over, her half-naked body now surrounded by the cool night wind, one of the men shouted that they were swimming away and back up.

"Drop the net!"

"Don't hurt her! She saved me!" Whined the boy she had rescued from death, pushing away the men who wanted to touch her, laughing loudly, amused, looking at her body.

She was terrified and trembledall over – a white-haired child came up to her and embraced her, shivering along with her.

"It's going to be alright. I won't let you get hurt." He whispered softly, something in the sound he made of himself reassuring her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the moisture running down her cheeks, thinking only of the fact that she should have listened to her mother, and now she had to pay for her curiosity.

They threw her into a net like an animal, then lifted her up with a hand crane and her body suddenly fell to the wooden floor, lots of legs around her, lots of men speaking loudly to each other.

She covered her ears and cried, feeling only pain, terrified and frozen, and suddenly she felt that something was wrong.

The voices around her fell silent as she lifted her gaze to her body.

In place of her shiny fin, covered in beautiful scales, were two long limbs, the same as theirs.

Legs.

She covered her mouth with her hand and turned away, another terrifying high-pitched sound came from her throat that felt like it tore her skin – she just cried loudly, terrified.

What had happened?

Where was her tail?

Her mother never spoke of her father.

She said he was not worth mentioning.

"He chose the sea, but not me." She had told her once, but it was only now that it was beginning to occur to her what she might have meant.

"What is the meaning of this?" She heard a low, cold voice and saw above her a man with a large scar on his left cheek and a black eye patch.

He had the same white hair as the child she had saved, except that his was longer, tied with a black ribbon – he looked at her in disbelief, as if she were some strange, frightening creature.

"It's a mermaid, Captain! I saw for myself, as long as she was in the water she had a long tail!"

"That's right, sir, if we sell her we'll get crores!"

"Don't sell her, brother! She saved me!" She heard the voice of the same little boy holding him by the sleeve of his black leather coat, his gaze directed at her again, this time focused and excited.

"We're turning back to the harbour. Find her some clothes, nobody can touch her." He said, and after a moment the men lifted her up. Although she tried to pull away, it was to no avail.

They forced her to put on a long, smelly cloth and gave her some scratchy material, although when she covered herself with it, it made her feel warmer.

They locked her in a room from which she could only see the sea through a small hole. She watched in despair as she moved away from her home, from her mother – she pressed her forehead against the wooden wall and wept.

She heard footsteps, quiet at first, then louder and louder, and the door to her cabin opened – the same terrifying man with a black eye patch stood over her, closing the door behind him.

"Who are you?" He asked. She looked at him with big eyes, not understanding what she was supposed to do, what they wanted from her. She only swallowed loudly, not taking her eyes off him.

He came closer to her, and she stepped back quickly, pressing her back against the wall, breathing loudly, terrified.

"Do not be afraid." He said a little more calmly, kneeling in front of her, something unsettling in his eye, some kind of unhealthy fascination.

She saw the gesture of his tongue running swiftly over his lower lip, as if he was just preparing to eat something tasty.

"Who. Are. You." He repeated word after word and tapped his finger against her chest hidden under the blanket. She flinched at the gesture, curling into herself, moving as far away from him as possible.

He lifted his hand and pressed it to his chest, wearing only a grey shirt tucked into black leather breeches.

"Aemond." He said calmly. After a moment, he placed his hand on her chest, looking at her expectantly.

"You?"

She wondered if he wanted to know who she was, if he had just confessed his name to her.

She saw his eye widen as she lifted her hand, touched her thumb with her pointing finger, signifying the syllable 'Le', and then lifted her pointing finger up, signifying the lone vowel 'a'.

Lea.

He looked at her, shaking his head, sitting down in front of her.

"What does that mean?" She heard him say the words quickly, but completely misunderstood what it was supposed to mean, so she showed him the same gesture signifying her name once more.

He ran his thumb over his lower lip, looking at her intensely, tapping his fingers on his knee. He rose suddenly, startling her with it, opening some cupboard with a loud clatter, taking out some large object.

She saw that what he was holding in his hands had cards and patterns – he turned it towards her, moving closer to her and it was only then that she noticed it was letters.

Her mother had told her about them and had even drawn them for her on the sand, explaining that people used them to write down words and their sounds.

She had written what her name and a few other sentences would sound like in their language, wanting to give her a comparison of how their gestures translated into their syllables.

She touched her finger quickly to a letter she recognised as 'L'. He looked at it curiously and read it out loud.

"L" He said and she nodded, pointing then to the "E" and "A".

He looked at her in disbelief, the corner of his mouth twitching in what she might have called a smile if not for the glint in his eye.

"Lea." He whispered, and she blinked, understanding that he had said her name as a whole, that this was what it sounded like.

She nodded slowly and he licked his lips excitedly, moving far too close to her, placing the book on her lap.

He began to point his fingers at more letters, and she followed the movement of his hand, trying to decipher what he was trying to convey to her.

Y O U S A V E D M Y B R O T H E R

You

sa

ved

my

bro

ther

You saved my brother.

The fair-haired boy.

She looked at him puzzled, swallowing loudly and nodded. She heard him sigh with some kind of relief and joy, happy to be able to communicate with her, pressing his lips together, leaning over the book again.

DAERON

"Daeron." She choked out the word she had heard when she had held his brother in her arms, which apparently was what he had shouted then, terrified.

She heard their captain snort a laugh under his breath, running his hand over his face, looking at her in disbelief.

"Yes." He hummed softly, his voice seeming calmer and gentler to her. She leaned over the book, this time she wanted to tell him something, and he immediately bowed his head, looking at the letters she was pointing at.

WHY

She glanced at him with her lips tightened and he looked at her, swallowing loudly, his gaze cooled. He stood up abruptly and she was unable to make a sound, not knowing how to stop him – he walked out and left her alone, locking the door.

She tried to lift herself up on those two strange limbs, but she was falling, they seemed limp and weak to her.

She preferred to crawl – she wrapped herself in her blanket and fell asleep lying against the wall, crying silently, praying to the Drowned God to take her back to the sea.

The next day, the little boy she had saved brought her food and placed it in front of her, stroking her head, saying something quietly. He then ran away as if he should not come to her and closed the door behind him.

She spotted the fish and bread on her plate and began to eat quickly, hungry and thirsty – she was given some disgusting liquid in a steel jug, but she drank it, not having much choice.

She spent the whole day lying in one place and it was only at night that she heard the sound of the lock being opened, the same man standing over her again.

He approached her slowly, crouching on the floor in front of her, massaging his chin. She held his book pressed against her chest, tried to look through it earlier, but understood nothing of it.

He gently took it from her hand.

She shuddered as he laid down on the floor just behind her, resting his cheek against her shoulder, placing the open book in front of them, pointing one by one with his finger at the letters and syllables he had spoken so that she could see them, illuminated by the moonlight.

"We - are - sai - ling - to - King's - Lan - ding." He whispered softly, and she blinked, swallowing hard, understanding enough that they were sailing somewhere far away, that she would never see home again.

She closed her eyes and wept quietly, feeling her body begin to tremble, a shudder went through her as she felt his lips on her neck.

"Don't cry." He whispered in her ear softly, warmly, tenderly, and though she didn't know what it meant, she thought he sympathised with her.

"I have no choice. If I let you go now, my grandfather would kill me. You are a chance for us." He hummed the words into her ear, his wet, warm lips trailing higher and higher.

She wondered what he was actually doing, why she was getting hot from this kind of touch, why she felt a pleasant pulsing and tension between her limbs.

They both started panting as his hand slipped between her legs and began to touch her slick, puffy folds with his fingertips – she felt that this was a very private and intimate place, her thighs clenched involuntarily but his fingers slipped inside anyway.

She heard his every stroke accompanied by a loud click of her moisture, with every move he made a pleasant warmth and tickle ran through her spine, she felt something slap hard against her buttocks and moaned softly.

"− fuck −" She heard him mutter behind her, from which a shudder went through her. She sobbed in surprise when she felt his finger suddenly inside her, clasping her hand on his wrist, terrified.

He only shushed her while moving it deep inside her fleshy, moist walls, streching her again and again, rubbing it against the place from which waves of pleasure passed through her, from which she lost the remnants of her strong will.

She didn't put herself against him when she felt him lift her thigh, as something hot, big and hard pushed against her swollen slit from below and began to slide into her flesh, pushing her core apart with her loud cry.

His free hand held her tightly – she clenched her fingers against his skin, panting along with him as he began to move suddenly, pressing his lips to her neck, to her cheek, whispering and groaning low some words whose meaning she didn't understand, his thrusts pushing her hot, throbbing muscles to the limit, opening her wide with loud clicks of her moisture.

She had no idea what was actually happening, what they were doing, but it felt good – she felt pleasure, so she let him do what he wanted, easing down completely, moaning loudly as he turned her onto her stomach and lifted her buttocks, slamming into her with loud, wet slaps, his breath heavy, loud and aroused, his fingers digging into her soft skin.

"− I'm going to keep you for myself − you'll swell from my seed and give me offspring born from the sea − my inheritance − oh, fuck −" He mumbled out, feeling her walls begin to clench against his erection, sucking it inside her. A wave of pleasure shook her entire body, stupefying her and making nothing reach her – she felt something hot spill inside her, and then there were only their loud, accelerated breaths.

"− mine −"

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bluebird (Azriel x Reader)

Oop, I said the next thing I posted would be Shrinking Violet Part II, but I'm still putting the finishing touches to that, so I thought I would just share this little piece I wrote ages ago. I don't know what it is or what it's going to be, but I hope you enjoy, all the same!

Warnings: None.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

There was no way it was all in his head.

No possible fucking way that it was all in Azriel’s head. 

He hadn’t imagined the light touches, the subtle glances. That little charge of energy he felt when the middle Archeron sister was anywhere nearby. He’d been alive long enough to know the difference between meaningless lust and…something else. 

And yet he found himself, once again, sat across the room from them – watching them. Watching Lucien Vanserra attempt to make conversation with his mate, and wondering how the Cauldron had gotten it so wrong – how he had ended up mated to her, and not Azriel himself. 

Elain was polite enough to feign interest, to not glance across to Azriel, where her eyes would usually stray if Vanserra wasn’t around. And that was what Az found so puzzling, so frustrating, about it; that he and Elain were drawn to each other, always teetering on the edge of that line they were forbidden from crossing. There had to be a reason–

The spymaster’s eyes shuttered. The fucking scent of the bond was getting to be too much, filling up a room that usually felt quite generous in size. It was a too-sweet, cloying smell that shoved its way up his nose and reminded him of treacle; thick, sticky, unbearable. And the sound of Elain’s laughter – whether it was forced or not – only worsened it. Made it sweeter. Stronger. 

Az jumped up from his chair, ignoring the inquisitive look that Cassian shot him. He’d agreed to come to the family dinner, and he’d done just that – but he’d made no such commitment about lingering afterwards to be tortured by a room full of mating bonds and sexual tension – which very much existed between Nesta and Cassian also, even if the eldest Archeron would never admit it. 

He had to get away, out into the fresh air where he could cleanse his mind and his nose and his entire gods-damn existence. Lucien had been hanging around a lot recently, trying and trying to make progress with Elain. Was it any wonder Az wanted to keep to himself? To put some distance between himself and the female that could have been his mate, but by some cruel twist of fate, wasn’t?

He immediately launched into the skies, the beat of his wings working out the restlessness that had begun to gather there. These solitary flights had been a reprieve recently, and he seemed to fly further and further away from Velaris every time.

The last two times, he’d found himself soaring over the mortal lands.

It seemed the only place far away enough to truly smother the scent of Elain and Lucien’s bond – as if the magic of Prythian kept it alive and potent in all corners of the land. But he’d discovered that venturing into mortal territory was enough for him to forget for a while, to put the sounds and smells of their bond to the back of his mind. And so he flew high over human villages, just a dark blot in the skies that no mortal sight could ever catch. 

His wings flapping furiously, he practically swam through the relentless winds, and continued on and on until he could feel that crackling, zipping line that divided the mortal and fae lands. For him, breaching into mortal territory had become a feeling akin to breaking the surface of water and taking a great gasp of air, allowing it to expand his burning lungs.

And the mortal air may have smelled of horse manure and coal and human blood, but it had begun to feel more bearable, more raw, than the essence of Lucien and Elain. 

As he had the last few times, Az pushed it further, further, allowing himself to fly freely without fear of straying too far. Rhys would probably call him reckless if he knew, but he was the Spymaster, the Shadowsinger. If he had to start worrying about humans hundreds of feet below him, there was a serious problem. 

He found himself soaring over land he’d never been to before – never had reason to explore the human lands this deeply. Below him, a tiny peasant village was cloaked in darkness – little stone buildings and huts with thatched roofs crowded the small, narrow bend of the village and sat in complete silence, their occupants no doubt already retired to bed. The hour was late. 

It was unremarkable – a dingy, impoverished village that could have been any of the hundred others he’d flown over. Nothing of note was happening, no petty human squabbles or drunken tavern fights to witness, to distract him for a while. 

He was just about to take off, fly somewhere else, when he heard it. 

It danced on the wind towards him, light and lilting and beautiful – music. Music coming from somewhere beneath him.

He stopped, allowing his wings to keep him aloft as he listened. Like no other music he’d ever heard, it seemed to reach out to him, to caress him. Tinkling notes that were being played on an instrument – a piano – and composing the most gentle, breathtaking tune he’d ever heard. 

Before he realised what he was doing, he was moving, banking, sweeping down closer to the sound. He needed to hear more, to have the music fill his ears. 

Nobody was around on the dark, cobbled street to sense him landing gracefully in a tree and perching himself within the branches. There, below him, just across the street, the music floated out from a small, run-down tavern. The sign above the door named it The Bluebird Inn.

Az followed the direction of the melody, allowing it to guide his eyes to the exact spot it was being played in. The dirty window on the lower left side of the building. 

It was only dim, poor candlelight that illuminated the scene behind the glass, and thank the Mother for fae eyesight, Az thought, because there was no way he’d have been able to make out the details without it.

A single candlestick sat atop a pianoforte, casting an orange glow on the young human woman that perched in front of it, her soft, delicate fingers dancing over the keys. 

Az’s breath hitched in his throat. He didn’t know why. 

But there was something so…pure about the scene, that kept the spymaster’s eyes glued to it, unable to look away. Something stunning and real and raw. The girl’s hair was unbound and flowing around her shoulders, her brow delicately pinched and lips slightly parted as she lost herself in the music she was playing. There was no sheet music in front of her – she played from memory, from heart. 

Azriel wanted to drown himself in the sound. In the climbing notes, the gentle melody. He wanted Feyre to paint the scene, capture the serenity of that human girl in a picture forever. 

He was so entranced by the sight and the sound that he jolted when the music abruptly stopped. 

A gruff, masculine voice shouted from somewhere in the tavern, and the human girl’s fingers slipped from the keys, her head snapping in the direction of the door. Her shoulders seemed to slump, and she stood, pushing the piano stool in and wandering out of sight.

And Az – for some reason entirely unbeknownst to him – continued to watch. 

In case the human came back.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ azriel tag list:

@hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @emturtles @lostpirateinwonderland @kammsinn @localhopedealerr @pee-stachio @tobifeemo @torchbearerkyle @honeycriess @shadowsingersmate24 @azziessidehoe @camillo-420 @aztheshadowsinger @shadow-singer123

[evermoresversion]

Hi, i hope your having a great day so can you write something like movie scene you know there is a pool scene between noah and nick can you write this between reader and nick maybe a little bit of smut.

I really enjoy reading your one shots with nick you are the only nich writer no one else wirte nick one shot love ya🥰

CLOSER, NICK LEISTER.

A/N It's been a while since I last wrote for Nick. I hope I haven't lost practice, aaa.

PAIRING Nick Leister x Fem!Reader

TW/TAGS Established relationship, smut, suggestive content, MDNI, 18+, fingering, praise kink.

SUMMARY It's the hottest day of the year, so you and Nick go in the pool, but the heat takes over both of you, leading you to warm up in another way.

NICK'S MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

It was the hottest day of the year and you were both in his room.

He was lying in a starfish position on his bed and you were sitting in an armchair that he had in his room.

He was shirtless while you were wearing shorts and a sleeveless top.

"What if we go in the pool?" he offered and you mentally hit yourself for not having thought of that option before.

"Please," you almost jumped out of the chair to get up although you complained as soon as the fake leather of the chair stuck to your skin from the sweat that your legs had shed. "shit."

He laughed getting out of bed and walking to the door, he opened it and stepped aside for you to come through.

"Ladies first," he bowed and you laughed at his antics, bowing back, walking out of his room with him following you. "Whoever gets there first chooses the food." he said and started running down the stairs.

"Wait what? Hey cheater!" you started running after him while the two of you laughed.

"Watch out kids!" exclaimed one of the women who works for the Leister family.

"As kids they no longer have anything."

And when you were about to arrive, Nick arrived first and jumped into the pool, drenching your clothes with splashing water.

"Nicholas!" you exclaimed indignantly and moved closer to the edge, dropping to your knees in front of him as he surfaced. "does cheating have fun?"

"A bit." He sentenced and took you by the hand, pulling it to submerge you in the water next to him.

You swam to the surface and took a deep breath already outside.

"I don't know how to swim!" you exclaimed pretending to drown and he quickly swam towards you to take you in his arms.

You laughed out loud looking at him.

"You always fall." you said and left him confused but he immediately understood.

"Fuck off." He laughed letting you go, you knew perfectly well how to swim but whenever the two of you were in a pool you made a joke of not knowing how to swim and he always fell.

You submerged again to be able to accommodate your hair and enjoy the cool water on your face warmed by the sun.

"It's delicious." you murmured with your eyes closed, running your hands through your hair, feeling the contrast of the sun on your skin and the cold water.

When you opened them you saw that Nick was looking at you with a sweet smile. You swam back to him and he immediately welcomed you into his arms, pulling you closer to him.

You put your arms over his shoulders, caressing his tanned skin, running your hand through his wet hair.

He caressed your cheek and smiled even more as soon as he saw and felt you lean into his touch.

He leaned his face towards yours and his lips caught yours in a slow but passionate kiss.

His grip was firm on your legs, moving up to your thighs while his body was glued to yours, imprisoning you between the wall of the pool.

His lips moved skillfully over yours, your hand gently tugged at his hair. That was enough for one of his hands to go to one of your ass cheeks and squeeze it.

You felt his cock harden on your lower abdomen and your hand that wasn't in his hair went down to his crotch to caress him over his shorts.

He growled low on your lips and broke away from them to breathe.

You brushed your nose against his in a small show of affection, making him smile.

Your lips went to his ear to murmur the words that would make him lose what little self-control he had left.

"I need you right now."

You left a quick kiss behind his ear, then looked back at him. He attacked your lips again, positioning his hand on your neck without pressing, yet.

His tongue found its way into your mouth and it searched for yours, colliding with each other.

You felt his hand work its way between your legs as his body moved slightly away from you.

He pushed aside the cloth that covered your cunt, teasing between your lips.

A moan left your lips and he kissed you again to silence any sound you might make, since the two of you weren't alone.

"Remember to be quiet doll, you don't want anyone else to know how much you enjoy that I fuck you, do you?"

And after that he kissed you again, and you dug your nails into his shoulders when you felt his fingers move skillfully and quickly on your clit.

"F-fuck—" you gasped softly biting your lip and closing your eyes.

He watched every reaction he stole from you with his every action. Getting turned on with the sight of you enjoying how it made you feel.

After a few seconds, he introduced two of his fingers into your pussy, making you bite your lip hard to keep from moaning.

He began to move them at a steady, fast pace, or at least as fast as the water would allow him.

"You're making me feel so damn good." you gasped closing your eyes.

He brought his lips to your neck to leave wet kisses and marks.

Although his arm was beginning to get tired, he did not slow down the pace with which he penetrated you with his fingers.

You tightened your walls around his fingers as you felt the knot of pleasure in your abdomen.

"You look so fucking gorgeous like this." he murmured and smiled when he felt how you tightened around his fingers again.

He turned his attention back to the little button of nerves that would take you over the edge and you scratched at his back to hold on to something as the orgasm hit you like a truck.

You covered your own mouth with your hand to keep from screaming and your eyes were squeezed shut.

Your chest rose and fell with your erratic breathing. He kissed your cheek, forehead, nose and lips lovingly, moving his hand away from your center after adjusting the lower part of your clothes.

"I love you." you murmured smiling, hugging him and he smiled leaving a peck on your lips.

"I'm not done with you." He declared lifting you by the waist to sit on the edge of the pool, making you giggle knowing that he could handle you with his strength like a rag doll.

He got out of the pool and helped you up to walk back into his room.

disclaimer ── evermoresversion © 2023.

[pearlsinmyhair]

₊ ⊹ the price of the name.

synopsis: reader has had a hard life, and now she’s an orphan. but someone just as lonely comes into her life to take her under his wing.

warnings: angst. lots of hurt, very little comfort. miguel is a hardass who pushes people away. death.

platonic!miguel x daughter-like!reader. no seriously, reader is eighteen and young. this is found family, not romantic.

the intention is for this to be multi-part. how many parts? idk.

word count: 1.3k

pt i : fate

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 

being a spider person was always unfair. mercy from whatever divine being that controlled their universes was hard to come by.

you were no exception.

your father died early, shot by a man who ran with someone’s purse. you didn’t know him well, you were only three after all. but your mother fought hard to teach you about him, to make sure you remembered some semblance of him.

and all was well for a time. you went to school, made some friends, started working for some extra cash under the table.

you were reaching up into your attic when the sharp sting of a spider bite zinged up from your hand. you killed it with a slap, but nothing could stop the venom that now traveled through your veins.

the rest was history: you became your universes one and only spider woman, learning her trade as she went.

the cannon event hit later, and it was different from the others.

you had no uncle to find dead on the street.

but you did have a mother.

she was working the late shift at the hospital when a spouse of a dead patient burst through the doors and demanded to see a doctor. apparently, the man wanted revenge for the hospitals failure to save his wife, and he had come to instill justice.

your mother had raised her hands and tried to plead for him to stop, to calm down, to lower his gun.

the shot made your spider-senses go haywire, and you practically flew to the trauma center. the security guards had no idea what to do, so you just ran past them to find your mother bleeding on the cold white tile.

it took everything in you to remember that behind your mask, no one knew you were this woman’s daughter, and you’d have to respond carefully. you watched as the officers called the next of kin, and you were thankful that you had had the mind to put your phone on silent that day.

no one noticed the tears streaming from your eyes behind the suit. you swung back home as fast as you could, answering your phone when they called you again.

pretending to not know what was going on was the second worst thing you had to do that day. you had to fight from chocking on tears as you answered the call.

eighteen and orphaned, standing over your mothers open casket. a part of you thanked that you were older, because it meant that you didn’t have to go into foster care. but nothing could truly quell your grief.

and then the universe decided to send you a big middle finger in the shape of a Doc Oc right after the funeral ended.

you knew that you couldn’t keep going like this. no one should process grief this fast. but as the villain sent a tidal wave through the streets of new york city you relized that you didn’t exactly have a choice.

with great power comes great responsibility.

and saving these people was your responsibility, no matter what mental state you were in.

this Doc Oc looked to be from some other dimension. instead of mechanical tentacles like that of your Doc Oc, he had real ones, and he apparently threw actual octopi at people when he was pissed off.

it was no easy task, and at one point he had thrown you against the wall and knocked your head. as your vision swam, he picked you up with one of his suctioned limbs and squeezed.

it all happened so fast.

a flash of orange and yellow swirling at the edge of your vision. orange silk shooting into your captors face. and then someone shot forward and sliced the tentacle that held you.

you sank to the ground as you caught your breath, vaguely hearing someone say “Lyla, run a diagnostic. what’s the best way to take this guy down?”

as you wheezed, a large hand rested against your shoulder, and a soft voice greeted your ears.

“Sit tight, kid. I’ll handle this.”

you didn’t have time to argue when the hand vanished, and you peered up just in time to see a large spider-man in a blue suit throwing himself at the villain.

you stood as you caught your breath, rushing right back into battle to help the man that had saved you. the Doc Oc dragged you both to the bay, sinking down into the water. it was advantageous for him, being a water dwelling creature, and you and the man struggled. it took another spider, a woman on a motor cycle, showing up to help defeat him.

but it was you who dealt the final blow, wrapping the villains limbs to a nearby pier to keep him underwater. when the pair of new spider people got him all tied up and prepared to take away, you just…collapsed.

everything came down on you at once. your exhaustion, your sadness, your loneliness. everything.

you barely heard the spider woman murmur to the brash man across from her, and it was only when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around you and pick you up that you snapped back to reality.

but just as quickly as you zeroed in on the feeling, your brain whispered sleep in your ear, and you passed out.

₊ ⊹

you woke to a strange bare bedroom and an odd watch that flickered with light on your wrist. noticing the glass of water on the bedside table, you chugged it, coughing when you got too eager.

“You’re awake!”

you screamed, a small voice coming from right beside your head unexpectedly. you turned to see a small woman illuminated in the light from your watch.

“no need to be afraid. i’m lyla.”

lyla. that rang a bell.

“where am i?” you asked as you noticed the clothes folded in the corner of the room. you cast a sideways glance at the projection, and lyla turned to give you the illusion of privacy.

“miguel will answer all your questions. i’ve alerted him of your new condition.”

you slipped on the black sweatpants and top gratefully, relishing the feeling of soft cotton against your skin. as your hands moved over your body, you quickly noticed various cuts and bruises.

that’s right, i passed out.

“where is this miguel?” you asked as you studied the watch, noticing the flickering ‘EARTH-928’ across the screen.

almost immediately, little glowing footsteps were projected from the watch, making you whip your hand away from your face.

“i guess that’s my answer?” you asked lyla, and the woman nodded.

you sighed, figuring you might as well follow them.

fantastic survival skills from the one and only spider-woman.

well, you thought, not the one and only.

₊ ⊹

the man before you seemed almost nothing like he was when you were fighting Doc Oc.

he seemed…infinitely tired. his shoulders hunched, head ducked down. you supposed that you were distracted during the fight.

but his expression revealed much more than his body language. he had deep eye bags, and his cheeks were sunken in a way that expressed not just natural bone structure but also a lack of eating and sleeping properly.

miguel looked drained.

you were still processing what he had told you, about the cannon and the ‘Spider-Society’ and the ‘Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse.’

you had actually openly scoffed at that one, and he looked dejected by your reaction.

“but i can’t just send you home now. i’m pretty sure jess would actually web me for all eternity if i did.” he was saying, rubbing his brow.

“so what exactly am i doing here, then?” you asked, curious but hesitant.

he turned his back to you, looking forlornly at his screens.

“i’m going to train you.”

“why?” came your response, surprised and uncertain. you may have only known miguel for less than an hour, but you could already tell that taking on a young apprentice wasn’t exactly in his character.

he didn’t turn to you. he just kept looking at a picture of a young girl on one of his screens.

“because you remind me of someone.” he said quietly. then he looked at you, and you were struck with the amount of guilt and suffering that lived in his eyes.

“and because you remind me of myself. and i can’t let you become like me.”

masterlists | part ii

[winters-dream]

Hero has amnesia from an injury Villain caused. Guilty, Villain took them in until their memory returns:

Hero halted in their tracks, their breath caught in their throat. Villain, fresh out of a shower, stood in the middle of the room with only a towel to keep them decent. Their hair, still very damp, dripped small water droplets onto their shoulders that ran down their perfectly sculpted chest.

Their perfectly sculpted chest that Hero was openly gawking at. A wave of heat rushed into their cheeks, coloring their face and neck scarlet. They wanted to turn away, leave the room. Something to give Villain back their privacy, or at least make themself seem less of a pervert. 

But they couldn’t tear their eyes away from the scar that took up most of Villain’s torso. Pale in color, the scar ran from the top of their left shoulder to the center of their stomach. The surrounding skin was warped and Villain’s shoulder looked like it took most of the damage. Hero found themself wondering if it ever healed properly, if Villain had full use of their shoulder. 

“It’s rude to stare,” said the villain, their voice cutting through Hero’s thoughts like a knife. Hero’s eyes shot up to the villain’s face, a deep scowl present on the criminal’s face. “It’s even more rude to walk into one’s bedroom without knocking. Did you forget your manners as well?”

“Sorry, no, I didn’t mean to walk in on you. Or to stare at you, you’re um,” Hero rushed their words out, pausing momentarily as their eyes drifted back down to Villain’s scar. “I, uhm, I just had a question, I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

They looked back up at the Villain’s eyes, their cold stare not wavering for a moment. They felt frozen in place. And hopeless. Villain often had that effect on Hero. Their frightening aura alone was enough to set alarms off in Hero’s head. They were helpless, like a deer staring at oncoming traffic, unable to move out of the way before they got hit. 

Hero could hardly imagine what made them think they ever had a chance in a fight against Villain, what their pre-amnesia self was thinking.

“Are you going to actually ask the question?” asked Villain. “Or are you just going to stare?”

“Uhm.” Hero couldn’t remember their question, the surprise of seeing the half-naked Villain threw their train of thought off track. They averted their gaze away from the Villain’s annoyed stare, their eyes falling back to their scar. 

“Your scar,” mumbled the hero. “What happened?”

Villain tensed at the question, something of pain, anger, and resentment flashed in their eyes. They turned their head away from the hero, hero could see the muscles of their jaw working as they ground their teeth together. 

“I had a big fight a few years back,” they spoke in a hushed tone. 

Hero could only muster a small ‘oh’ as they stepped closer to the Villain, their hand outstretched towards them hesitantly. Villain said nothing as the hero’s fingers brushed over the scar, the tissue rough and bumpy compared to the surrounding skin.

“Does it hurt?” hero asked. Their head hurt, something about the scar seemed vaguely familiar, though Hero couldn’t place how.

“It did when it first happened,” admitted the villain. “But not anymore. Physically at least.”

A strange sense of guilt swam through Hero’s chest the longer they stared at the scar, a pained expression contorting their face as they pulled their hand away from the Villain’s chest. Physically at least.

“The person who did this was close to you?” Hero asked.

Villain looked away, the pain they felt in their heart too great to look the oblivious hero in the eye. “Something like that.”

Hero looked away from Villain's chest, focusing their attention on their own hands. “That must be awful. I can't believe that someone you were supposed to trust could do that to you.”

Villain’s gaze snapped back onto them, pain and anger evident in their eyes. They didn’t speak, just stared at the hero with a hardened gaze. Heavy with many years of heartache, pain, anger, guilt. Hero knew they were the cause of a great deal of it. And they wished they could remember all of it so they could at least try to make things right . . .  

“It was me,” they realized. “I did this to you.”

A deep sigh left through Villain’s nose as they backed away, turning towards their closet. 

“Yeah,” they whispered.

Hero averted their eyes back to the ground, guilt heavy in their heart as flashes of a memory came back. The putrid smell of rain mixed with blood. The shine of a sword swiping upwards, cutting into Villain’s skin. Blood and dirt mixed together as Hero tried to stop the bleeding. 

Their head was pounding now. 

“Why were we even fighting?” asked Hero. They heard the rustling of fabric and looked up to see Villain had put on some sweats and was in the process of searching for a shirt. Hero could only bring themself to be a little appalled that Villain didn’t mind the Hero’s presence as they changed.

“I don’t remember the reason,” said Villain. “The fight was so long ago.”

They turned back to face Hero as they pulled a shirt over their head, covering the scar as they did. They walked closer to the hero, lifting a hand up towards their face. They used their knuckle to wipe away a tear Hero didn’t even know they had shed. 

“I’m sorry,” whispered Hero. “I'm a horrible person. I don’t know why you’re helping me.”

Villain gave them a long look. “Me neither.”

[sansxfuckyou]

lazy day

summary: Tango goes to work sick, his lovers/co-workers do not approve of this and take it upon themselves to help him feel better

tags: mild sickfic, cuddling, just a lot of fluff!

authors note: yes this is propaganda for the @tangotekshipbracket yes i am once again asking you all to vote Poly Postal, remember kids! for every round they advance i'll write a fic for them! that said hope ya enjoy

Tango feels like shit. Stuffiness blocking up his head and an achy throb in his veins. He hasn't gotten sick like this in a long time, he was sure that the body heat would burn out any illness before it could take effect.

Guess not.

He still trudges to the post office on shaky feet, he's gotta make it to work. He needs to. They can't be the Postal Pals if he isn't there to be the third member.

But when he arrives they don't look happy to see him, Etho's fur stands on end and Pearl looks vaguely horrified. Is he reverting to something less human? Is he still a human? Or is he just really, really sick?

"Tango what are you doing here?" Pearl asked as she practically ran over to him, holding his face gently only to recoil at the heat.

"I'm here to do some work," Tango answered with curtly.

"God, Tango, you look like shit," Etho sighed out.

"Thanks."

"You don't need to come to work if you're sick," Pearl said, practically urging that he doesn't. Is he gonna listen to her? Pshaw, no way, he's got work to do.

"I'll just do less today," Tango said, "C'mon, I'm fine."

"You're a fire hazard right now," Pearl laughed a bit as she spoke, "Tango, go take a soak or something, cool off for a bit."

"But-"

"No buts! I'm calling off the days work so we can go swim the lake."

"I didn't bring a bathing suit..."

"I have spare suits for all of us so you can get it wet."

-/-/-/-

A cold soak doesn't work miracles in the way Pearl hoped it would but it definitely cleared up the congestion in Tango's head. He looks less like he'll keel over at any given moment and more like he just needs a nap.

"Feel any better?" Etho asked from the shore, refusing to submerge himself any further than the knees because it takes forever for all nine tails to dry out. He enjoys watching Pearl and Tango float in the deeper end regardless of that.

Tango raises a hand to give a thumbs up from where he rest laid on Pearl's back. She also gives a thumbs up from where she floats just under the surface, fully submerged aside from the fin on her tail. Sea creatures, Etho doesn't understand them.

"The waters great!" Tango called out voice still somewhat hoarse but enthusiastic regardless.

"I'm sure it is!" Etho called back to Tango.

Pearl swam her way back to the surface, holding up Tango so he wouldn't sink. "Really, Etho! It's amazing, you gotta try it!"

"I think I'll have to pass," Etho said, "Takes forever to get my tails dried off."

"I can help!" Tango said.

"You're sick!" Etho shot back.

"Burning off excess heat helps make me not as sick."

"Alright, alright, I'll do some swimming."

Both Pearl and Tango shout a brief 'yay!' as they watch Etho trudge ever closer before reverting to doggypaddling out to the deeper ends. His tails float on top of the water until he flops onto his back to starfish float.

"Happy?" Etho asked.

"Very," Tango answered with.

Pearl splashed Etho with water and watched with glee as he sputtered and tried to splash her back.

-/-/-/-

Etho spends the rest of the day chatting with Pearl, Tango curled up in the expanse of his tails. Slowly but surely drying them off, water evaporating under the heat of his body. Potential illness be damned Etho wouldn't deny a free snuggle session, especially not with Pearl painting his nails at the same time.

Bright colors, brighter than expected on him. A simple striking red with a white accent on his pointer finger. He liked it, reminded him of home.

"Hey, Tango?" Etho began quietly, shifting a tail as he spoke.

Tango gave a small sleepy sound, "Yeah?"

"How you holding up, bud?" Etho asked.

"'M still sick, feeling better though," Tango answered with before curling up even more in the coils of Etho's tails, his arms wrapped around Etho's waist.

"Don't worry, we'll be here all day long for ya," Pearl said with a grin on her face.

Tango lets out a small laugh-esque sound against Etho's back, "Love you guys."

"Love you too," Pearl said, "So does Etho."

"Yep," Etho said as he propped a tail a bit more to act as a pillow for Tango's head. Sick as he may be this is nice, they'd rather be doing this then doing work any day of the week.

[whump-in-the-closet]

If you are still doing the prompts:

“I just want to go home.”

sorry this ask took me so long! Anyway I used some of my newer ocs wooo

cw: female whumpee, forced to fight, blood, possibly broken wrist, training to the point of exhaustion, a pretty fucked up training facility

Leslie escaped from the training hall with a hollowed-out exhaustion. She sat down at a bench in the back of the locker room and let the fluorescent lighting gloss over the worst of the bruises. Slowly, she began to unwind the tape around her hands, wincing when it peeled back blood and patchy cuts with the white fabric. 

The few moments of quiet, with the ventilator humming softly, did not last long. 

Kaspian, the trainer, stormed into the locker room. His face was lined and etched with layerings of scars but his uniform was always pristine. 

“You!”

Leslie stood upright, the tape around her hands hanging half unwrapped. 

“Get back in there. I don’t remember permitting you to leave.” Kaspian pointed from her to the door. 

“I didn’t ask,” muttered Leslie as she walked past him. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing,” said Leslie. 

Kaspian shook his head. “Wrap your hands back up. You have another match.” 

Great. 

As Leslie headed back to the hall, Kaspian following her, she retied the tape– now less white and more bloodstained– biting it off to tie it. 

The training room was loud, with red-glare lighting, filled with nervous energy and stained practice weapons.

Kaspian waved her towards the ring in the back of the room. Her opponent bounced in the corner, stretching their arms and grinning.

Grinning. 

Who grinned like that? 

Their hair was tied in an intricate braid and they had a twisting scar from their bottom lip to their collar bone. That was bad. They were also far taller than Leslie. That was worse. 

Leslie shot Kaspian a look. You have got to be kidding me. 

He wasn’t. He folded his arms, the message clear.

Leslie cursed in one long breath. Then ducked under the ropes. The lights were brighter, casting blood-red shadows over the ring. It enhanced the stains already on the floor. 

Her opponent’s eyes glowed when the bell rang. 

Leslie landed one punch. 

Only one. Her wrist made a snapping sound as it connected with her opponent’s face. 

And they didn’t even flinch. 

“Fuck–” 

Leslie was knocked backward onto the floor. All her breath was knocked out with it. Her vision swam with sudden, sharp tears, and through pieces of hair, she could make out Kaspian’s disappointed expression. 

The world spinning, she pushed herself to her hands and knees. Blood gushed from her nose in a steady stream. She wiped at it, more out of surprise than pain. 

Then her opponent kneed her. 

Leslie hit the floor with a dull thud. Her breathing picked up, shallow and through a clenched jaw. 

Faster and faster and faster. 

They kicked her one last time, with a laugh. They grabbed a handful of hair and twisted her head upwards until she cried out. 

The light burned brilliantly, spiraling into thin curls of color. She could see two of her opponent, then four. 

“Say you surrender.” 

Leslie did not. “Fuck…fuck off.” 

Her opponent sneered. With a shrugged “Fine then,” they kicked her in the mouth. They dropped her head and left the ring. 

Leslie cupped her mouth with both hands, curling up on the canvas. Blood pooled over her hands and onto the gritty texture of the floor. 

White pounded in her vision, ripping through her. It twisted through every nerve, alive and eating away– fading to red.

Kaspian pulled her to her feet. “You have so much work to do,” he said as she stumbled down the stairs.

Leslie kept a hand over her mouth, trying to contain the vicious aching to only one part of her body. “I…I just want to go home.” 

“Never say that again,” said Kaspian with a sudden intensity. “If Liege Sage catches you saying that, I won’t be able to help out.” 

Home. 

“This is your home, now.” 

Everything ached.

[writing-whump]

💔😭🛌🥣🤢🤮 for one of your boys? 🖤

This is a great one, thank you! From this ask game.

The trio has a movie night with Isaiah stress sick all day until it finally downs at him. Vomiting, angst, heartache and lots of comfort.

Movie night

It started with the phone call.

"Your brother is back in town."

That was all it took. A friendly warning from Sonny that Hector was back from his exchange semester. They would probably meeting again at the nearest wolf event. If he didn't go they would meet at the next one.

There would be no avoiding Hector anymore.

That was alright. They knew how to get along civilialy. Right?

After getting the call, Isaiah couldn't eat. He hated how it messed up his whole day. His focus was shot, he kept forgetting what he was planning to do. While reading his preparation texts for uni the letters swam in front of his eyes and he didn't dare send any coordinating emails for work when he was so confused.

He stayed at home, pacing the apartment and fighting the lingering nausea that just accompanied him everywhere. He didn't dare to eat, just keeping hydrated. It was the weirdest feeling. He felt restless and tired and the same time. Waiting for something to be over that there was no running from.

His self-pitying parade ended when Seline and Matthew came home.

"I got the popcorn and Matthew got the cola!" Seline said instead of a greeting. "So I hope you got that free evening we talked about."

"Free evening?" Isaiah asked, confused. Damn, what else did he forget today?

"Yes. It's Wednesday. Our movie night. Remember?"

Ah right. Seline kept coming up with these ideas where they would all see or meet each other regularly doing activities together. It was like she was afraid they would drift apart before they even got close.

In the name of bonding time, she came up with traditions for starts and ends of semesters, holidays, conclusion of exam season and regular common events.

It was heartwarming in effort, a little awkward in its schedule. But they all agreed it was justified. Isaiah lived alone since he was 18 and he didn't talk with his family properly since that day. Matthew spent his teenage years in a boarding school.

Seline was the only one with a nice stable family - if the daily calls to her mom and weekly visits she came all happy from were anything to go by - but since she didn't live in Vienna until this year and out of many other complicated reasons, she had very few friends in the city itself.

Isaiah got the impression she was on a quest to change this, and it was a purposeful decision she was doing her best planning and preparing for.

He couldn't be angry, and he couldn't say no to that effort. Even if having a movie night was the last thing on his mind. His chest was feeling tight, probably from the angsting he was doing all day and the nausea was still very much there although his stomach hurt from hunger.

It was horrible to come to terms with his heart issues because he pushed his emotions and shadow down so successfully for years after moving out, it became his weak spot. If there was anything stressful or upsetting, it went right there. The damage was done, permanent. The doctor he saw about it said it was very rare for shadow wolves to contract such lasting issues in life. Shadows could heal anything aside silver - but they couldn't heal damage they caused themselves. And this was a gradual one, caused over time, little tears around the heart valve that wouldn't to away anymore.

That one was entirely on Isaiah.

He didn't tell anyone. It would be entirely discrediting for all the packs if they knew he had such an injury, such obvious weakness. They would tear him to pieces or never take him seriously again. His influence would be shot.

Only Matthew knew a little. Since that unfortunate day when he helped him home and watched him get sick. Though Isaiah didn't really explain and didn't know how serious it was at the time.

Isaiah didn't realize all the preparations were ready as he sat on the couch in thought. He was really out of it today to not join in any way.

Seline made the pop corn, Matthew brought the big cola bottles and before Isaiah knew how it happened, he had a glass of it pushed into his hand. The lights were shut and the beginning of Mad Max: Fury road started to play.

"You picked this for us so we would have some action?" Matthew asked, stretching on the sofa completely with a handful of popcorn gathered in his hand.

Seline glared at the lack of a bowl, but seated herself across Isaiah in the corner of the sofa.

"This movie is so much more than mere action. I admit the plot is simple, but that's so you can focus your attention on all the details of the worldbuilding. There are amazing social themes about humanity, apocalypse, reactions, dictatorship, oppression, brainwashing and power of friendship, redemption. The brutality of the fights and the agressive music contrast with the small moments of kindness and softness..."

Seline got into her triad as the titles started playing.

Isaiah held his glass stiffly. He didn't want to be here. Somehow until now he didn't realize how intrusive it would be to live with others. He liked company and was good with people on a normal day, but he had days like these too and he didn't...it was very stupid it didn't connect until now. That he wouldn't be able to have lonely evenings of suffering in peace, that his secrets would be held under scrutiny, that his presence would be demanded and expected.

He wanted to be left with his dark thoughts, heart episodes and damaged family ties in peace.

He also couldn't leave without breaking a promise and alarming them that something was wrong.

The only thing he managed to come up with was to slide down from the couch onto the floor, leaning his back against it. At least a bit of privacy.

The cola in his hand smelled sweet and inviting and it was supposed to help with stomach issues, right? He took a few sips, feeling the rush of sugar calming his hunger pains.

It calmed him a little. Seline kept stopping the movie to underline some kind of important cue or meta fact. Matthew was getting crazy angry over it, except he talked right through the movie, when commenting or exclaiming suddenly about a well made fight scene.

Isaiah actually relaxed for a bit, getting his mind of things as he listed. He wasn't getting much from the movie, it was all too fast and colourful, but he was feeling marginally better.

So it was to is utterly surprise when the nausea returned. His stomach was bubbling angrily with the few mouthfuls of cola, sloshing painfully.

It wasn't fair. He wasn't even overthinking this anymore!

Isaiah tried to take deep breaths and calm himself down. If this was simply from stress, maybe it would go away soon.

Then his stomach gave a light squeeze. Liquid shot up his throat, the taste of cola flooded his tounge. He tried to swollow it down, but it surprised him so much he gasped and the sugary vomit spilled out, right down his front.

There was no warning, no sound, no fight. One minute he was fine, fighting the roiling liquid down and the next it dripped from his chin at the small splash in the center of his chest.

Isaiah was mortified, body going rigid. He had no idea how that happened. No heaving, no warning. He didn't feel any worse than he did the whole day, aside the constant dull ache in his stomach.

Did he seriously just throw up on himself in the middle of a movie?

The only saving grace was the fact no one seemed to notice. Seline and Matthew were too invested in the loud action of the movie and he was hidden away from direct sight, sitting on the floor like that.

He could simply get up and disappear into the bathroom. Change his clothes and act like nothing happened. It was just a little accident. Not like anybody had to know.

Except then he felt the liquid shoot up his throat again, the force accompanied by an agonising stab in his middle. All he managed was to hang his head over himself as it sprayed out of his mouth. Just a small sip of black liquid joining the first splash. His teeth felt sticky and eroded from it.

His body gave a whole-bodied shudder. His right hand hovered about his chest, but he felt paralysed by the disgust of it all. He who thought himself so good in control? This was so humiliating and gross...

A quite pitiful sound escaped him then, something between a sob and a sight. He wanted to fall down the floor and disappear.

And it had such an easy solution, if he just made himself get up already. No chance though, his body was locked up and frozen in place.

His heart was beating in his ears, painful electric impulses. The nausea was ever-present, only rising with his pulse and his stomach was doing flip flops for no reason.

"Hey, Isaiah? Are you paying attention?" Seline asked, interrupting his haze.

Isaiah gulped and nodded, hoping that would satisfy her. His ears were ringing, so he only half-heard the film. His stomach hurt, curled around itself like around a fist.

"Isaiah?" She asked tentatively and stopped the movie.

The room fell in uneasy silence. Isaiah's panting breaths sounded too loud against it.

And then something even worse happened. Matthew stretched out behind himself to turn on the switch, basking Isaiah's complete emberassment in bright light.

Isaiah shut his eyes against the onslaught of artificial rays, hanging his head and panting through rising panic.

"What the hell-" Matthew grumbled in surprise.

"Isaiah? Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong?" Seline's voice was melted honey, the softest sound he ever heard.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing his hands against his eyes, hopefully hanging his head low enough to hide the worst of the mess on his chest. "Please, don't look at me." He sounded as pathetic as he felt. Just great.

"Isaiah," she cooed and he heard her sliding down the couch next to him. Cold hands were suddenly at the side of his face, her fingers in his hair, stroking his curls gently. Since he didn't slick them back today they were more wavy around his face, sticky with sweat.

"Does your belly hurt? Do you feel sick? What is it?" She asked, not pulling away from his hair.

Isaiah just shook his head, bowing further.

"Matthew, can you get me some paper towels," Seline said, voice soft but decisive. He heard Matthew's hurried footsteps on the floor. He didn't bother to look for his shoes before he went.

"Sweetie, please look at me," Seline said, treading her fingers through his overwarm, wet hair. "It's alright. You are okay."

Isaiah hid his face in his hands. The splutter of cola felt cold against his chest as it dried off and the smell of it mixed with stomach acid irrated his nose. He wanted to curl up on the floor and disappear.

This was so humiliating. With the silver poisoning, at least he was too out of it and it was too serious, serious enough to warrant his failure of senses. But this was just unforgivable, weak and repulsive. He felt so repulsive-

"Sweetie, come on. It's okay. Nobody is angry. Please, believe me." Seline slid closer to him, leaning her shoulder against his, one arm coming up around him to pull him against her, while the other kept stroking his hair.

"I'm sorry, I don't know- I don't-" His shoulders hitched with the sob. Selined leaned even closer, as if not disgusted by the the mess and the smell or by the display. She was full on hugging him now, her head against his neck.

"Shhh. You don't have to apologise, sweetheart."

Isaiah finally dropped his hands from his face, all pale and sweaty. He needed to see her, to make sure she wasn't joking. "Look at me, Seline. How can you-? I'm disgusting-"

As he turned his head he met her stare, bright baby blue eyes just centimeters from his. This was the closest their faces ever were together.

"Don't say that, sweetie. Darling. Dearest. Honey."

Isaiah huffed out a tiny laugh. He couldn't help it. He was a mess, and she was holding him, calling him all those weird sweet things, pressing herself against him as if nothing of that was true, as if his state wasn't absolutely unforgivable and sickening...

And she was doing it with that familiar fiery stubbornness and in that soft steely voice he couldn't resist.

Isaiah leaned his forehead against hers, just for a second forgetting how disgusting it all was. Just accepting the comfort, the touch, the blooming smell of her, like jasmine and peppermint.

He breathed in and out, only now realizing he could do it slow and proper again. His chest wasn't tight and pulsing anymore, and the pressure in his stomach eased up to exhausted but bearable soreness.

He waited for Matthew to get back with a fresh shirt and the towels, wrapped in her presence and reassurance.

----

@bellysoupset

[blindbatalex]

@buck-stars thank you for enabling me. re that mob au -- i was playing with @specificallybruins's marchy as the mob lawyer idea while I swam today and:

Maybe Brad gets out of law school wanting to have a normal career for himself, but then Zee saves his life in a brawl or something, and a couple of years later, lo and behold he is THE lawyer for the bruins mob, handling everything from tax implications for their money laundering business ventures to finding loopholes to avoid criminal charges to figuring out which cops to bribe to turn them a blind eye.

Bergy, meanwhile, is Zee's second in command, and as such is probably too senior to do something as boring as pore over tax law with Brad for hours, but that's exactly what he does time and again.

And it's not like Brad is complaining because Bergy is great company AND he is fit. Brad kinda wants to keep some separation from the mob though (as a lawyer, he works with them, but technically not for them, and fraternising w/ their 2nd in command would put a stop to that) and besides, the fun they have while they work together aside, would someone as gorgeous as bergy really look brad's way? highly doubtful.

and still there is this exhilirating connection between them, they get into and out of scraps and when they work on something meaningful together (so not tax law) they make each other better. and they have fun doing it.

And things you can write within that base set up are so delicious. like I want to write about bergy showing up at brad's house covered up in blood and giving brad a heart attack, but it's not his blood and there is a terrible, vacant look in his eyes and he doesn't explain but he does let brad clean it off and wrap him in a blanket.

or brad gets roughed up -- maybe by an ex bf? -- bergy finds out and he goes berserk, when brad never asked or expected it.

or bergy calls brad bc he is out of bullets and bleeding and any moment now they will find him and kill him but the moment brad realises he is calling to say goodbye and that he is not that far from where brad is driving thru, he, who has never killed anyone before, goes on a one man john wick style mission to rescue him, maybe getting shot himself in the process. there is just so much you can do 👀

[umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken]

Some Tamsand bits that I didn't use for Tamlin week that I still want to share because I had fun writing them

This is NOT AT ALL a coherent wip, just bits of paragraphs that I got too lazy to string together.

Entirely inspired by @szalonykasztan00 and their tamsand au post, read it in all of it's glory here!

enjoy!

<><><>

She tilted her head up to the sky, closing her eyes as she breathed in deeply. The air was… different here. Crisper, stronger than Spring, with a quality of mystery about the place, as if it knew something that she did not.

Lord Beron had begrudgingly allowed them to pass through the lands of Autumn to negotiate the marriage contract there. Her father certainly wasn’t willing to host the Night Court delegation, nor was he willing to make the journey to the Night Court. It seemed that the High Lord of Night felt similarly. Hence, the Autumn Court.

Tamlin had approached the topic with her mother, wondering why they couldn’t just winnow to the damned meeting and avoid the weeks worth of journeying that they would need to endure before finally arriving in the Autumn Keep.

“It is a symbolic journey, my sweet.” Mother had said, braiding gold threads into her hair.

“Each of you will make the journey. Each of you will meet as equals.”

“Yes, equals. But only one of us is arriving cloaked in lies and expected to lay down like a dog in the marriage bed.” She bit out.

Mother’s hand tightened on her shoulder for the briefest of moments before resuming its intricate work. Her voice, when she spoke again, was cool, her eyes in the mirror like chips of stone.

“Your father has gone to great lengths to arrange this marriage. It would do you some good to be happy about it.”

Her jaw clicked shut and she lowered her gaze. Her mother began to hum as she worked, picking up another gold thread.

She turned on her heel and began to walk towards the large campfire. On her approach, Sir Amon stood from his seat.

“Sir Amon, I am tired and would like to bathe before retiring for the night. I'm going to find a pond in which to bathe.”

“Certainly, my lady. Allow me to accompany you to-”

“There is no need. As I am to be married, I wish to enjoy as much of my freedom as I can before then.”

Amon looked back up at her with understanding.

“Of course. If you need my assistance in anything else at all. I am here.”

She smiled, “Thank-you Amon.”

<><><>

The water was like a balm to her body, soothing all of the aches she’d gained from doing nothing but sitting in a carriage for days on end. If she’d had her way, she would have been running alongside Amon’s horse in her beast form, powerful and free and strong, they’d certainly have made better time. But her father was immoveable on that matter.

She would ride in a carriage, as was traditional for a bride.

She ducked her head below the water, looking down at the rocky bed of the pond, at the glimmering shoals of little fish that swam around her ankles. Finally needing to come up for air, Tamlin began to swim back up, breaking the surface with a gasp.

He shook the water from his hair, stretching his arms.

<><><>

“I still don’t have your name, by the way,” Tamlin said, “After all, I don’t want to keep calling you Shadow singer.”

“Well, I don’t know your name either,” he shot back childishly.

Tamlin almost laughed.

He reached out his hand, “Alright then. Hello, yet un-named Shadow singer, my name is Amon of the Spring Court," Tamlin said smoothly, "and I am on my way to the Autumn Court for a very special occasion.”

<><><>

+ Rhysand pining after his mysterious blond, green eyed poet

“I can give you something new.” The male’s eyes- green eyes, glimmered.

Rhys emptied his tankard, his head becoming delightfully fuzzy.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing you won’t enjoy.”

He roved his eyes over the other male, who preened under his gaze.

Close enough.

Upstairs, he vanished both of their clothes away into neat piles on the floor, impatient.

It wasn’t him. His hair was the wrong colour, and he wasn’t as strong, wasn’t as powerfully built, but he would have to be enough.

He was rougher than he would have been. Pushed the other male’s face into the pillows and lost himself in memories of laughing eyes and soft lips. He finished with a grunt, tension coiling in every muscle. He left still unsatisfied, still wanting.

[jinmukangwrites]

Hiiiiii I love your writing, if you’re still bored and doing prompts I’d love a 13 and/or 26 LU (whoever you find easiest to write is cool but my fav is twilight if you want a suggestion 🤠!)

13: out of breath

26: the bone crunched

Hey don't cry, AO3 still down drabble prompts

Day 2 from my wife being off to war. I'm gonna keep doing little drabble prompts through the day, feel free to keep sending them in!

---

Scouting ahead had its dangers. Yet, Twilight made it his personal duty to perform this task whenever he felt it necessary, usually waiting for the others to fall asleep before he slipped into his wolf form and explored a few miles ahead.

This time proved to be dangerous, as he had stumbled across one of the biggest bogoblins he had ever seen followed by a train of smaller counterparts.

There were so many of them, it was bad luck that one of them spotted him before he could sneak off and warn the others.

He tried to run, truly he did, but the big one threw one of the little ones and they landed right ahead of him. The others screeched and jeered, running to surround him; Twilight knew they didn't know he was a hero, he was food to them.

He snapped at them, snarling and hunching his shoulders and hindquarters to make himself bigger. He mauled a couple to death, their blood sharp on his canine tongue, until eventually an opening presented itself. He turned tail and ran for it. Killing a few of them wouldn't make any of them run.

Though, he didn't get far before the large one grabbed him. Twilight snarled, twisting and sinking his teeth and claws wherever he could get them, until the large bokoblin yowled and threw him.

Twilight's stomach twisted as his body flailed. He only had a moment to think why couldn't I have been a bird before he slammed into the wide trunk of an oak tree.

That wasn't what hurt the most, however. It was the landing that did more damage. He tried to land on his feet and his front paw twisted and crunched beneath his weight.

He snarled through a whine, desperately getting to his three working feet, limping. His vision swam. With monumental effort, he shifted back to his hylian form, pressing his broken wrist to his chest and running before the bokoblins could catch up.

Every step radiated spikes through his entire arm. Tears pricked at his eyes against his will, and the shock of the injury, the adrenaline, the running, it stole his breath. He only managed to run a good four minutes before his boot caught on a root and he fell to the forest floor, clutching his wrist to his stomach to protect it.

He gasped, then gasped again, then noticed with some relief that he couldn't actually hear anything following him. He sighed, groaning, pushing himself to his knees, then feet, and limped the rest of the way back to his friends.

Wild was awake when he returned, Twilight threw him a lopsided grin as Wild's posture shifted from relaxed to shock as he took on the sight of him.

"Ran into some trouble," Twilight said through a gasp, and stumbled.

Wild had him by the shoulders before he could fall completely, helping lower him to a fallen over tree trunk. Nearby, Wind slowly sat up, hair a rat-nest and sleep retreating from his eyes. Great, he didn't mean to wake up the camp.

Wild was already pulling out health potions. "You need to stop going alone," he growled, and Twilight laughed. He didn't speak from a place of anger, but of worry. He shoved a red potion into Twilight's hands.

"Just a freak accident," Twilight said, waving vaguely with his hand.

"I don't care, take someone with you next time."

Twilight didn't want to, but Wild looked rightfully upset, so he gave a small sigh, took the potion like a shot of alcohol, and brought his good hand to Wild's shoulder to give it a squeeze.

"Next time, I will take someone with me. I'm sorry for scaring you."

Wild huffed, but gave a soft smile back.

[lilyevanstan1325]

🔥 Dangerous Game 🔥

Chapter 1

Amaya POV

I hate this day with all of myself.

Today is my birthday and I hate this damn day immensely.

Because it is not only the day of my birth but exactly 12 years ago my parents died.

They were skilled and capable agents.

They died on a simple recovery mission.

Murdered, to put it better.

There is no day that I do not think about them but on this very day my heart aches even more, as if every year that passes it makes a small part of them die.

I have not celebrated since then, if I could I would delete this date from the calendar.

If I could I would erase this day from my memory.

From my life.

Mom and dad met at the S.H.I.E.L.D. academy both barely of age had recently enrolled.

They had tied up immediately, mom always told me that the secret of their marriage was friendship.

Because before falling madly in love they became great friends.

Over time they had learned to trust each other and eventually love arrived.

They are my example of true love.

I am sitting on my bed, in my small and modest apartment, in my hands I hold a photo of them.

Dad had long red hair and shiny baby blue eyes.

Mom always said that that hair was wasted on a man,

according to her it was not fair that she had to spend hours with a brush and hairdryer to make herself presentable and instead he just needed a brush stroke.

I smile.

Mum, on the other hand, had honey blonde hair that she wore in a neat bob and eyes green like emeralds.

He of Irish descent and she the classic New York girl.

Together they were beautiful.

The envy of every individual who crossed their path.

And as if that were not enough they were also two good people.

Kind, selfless and in their work they were among the best.

I sigh and put the photo upside down on the blankets.

I can't look at it anymore.

I stand up and stop in front of the large mirror in my bedroom.

I am wrapped in a large towel, my wet hair falling to my back.

Real Irish red hair like my dad and the same green eyes as my mom.

Small in stature but well proportioned, generous breasts and hips.

I watch myself carefully, my glance back in the mirror.

After a few seconds I decide it's time to get ready.

Every 20th of August I do some madness, to exorcise the pain and curse this day.

The day he took my parents away from me.

All year round I am an impeccable woman.

Right arm of Fury, precise and lethal agent.

I put all of myself into my work.

But on this damn day I don't want to be me anymore.

Every year I make a madness, for example three years ago I jumped into the Hudson naked and swam across it, risking pneumonia.

Two years ago I got drunk until I fainted, I woke up the next day on the roof of my apartment.

Last year I did bungee jumping with a group of strangers.We threw ourselves off the Brooklyn Bridge with ropes that if I think about them today I don't know how reliable I could believe them.

For this year, however,I have chosen something totally different.Something I would never, ever do in my daily life.

Sex with a stranger.

I want to hook up with a man at the bar and have some wild sex with him.

I start drying my hair and once it is dry I pull them all back and tie them in a high ponytail.

I make up fairly lightly, just a little blush and some mascara.

And then I apply a blood red lipstick like nail polish on my fingernails.

I look in the mirror, I'm not great but over the years I have learned to exploit my femininity to my liking.

And then a few shots of Vodka will do the rest.

I step into my simple little black dress, with thin straps and a very generous neckline.

The back is totally uncovered and the hem of the dress stops just below the curve of my butt.

I wear my beautiful black Louboutin with a red sole.

A splash of perfume, Alien by Thierry Mugler, a last look in the mirror and after grabbing the clutch bag with the keys I walk towards the door.

I take a last big breath and leave the house.

Once out on the street I raise my hand to call a taxi, look at my watch.It is 08:00 PM.

Perfect time.

A taxi stops, I open the door and take a seat.

In here the smell is bad, mold and wet dog.

Gross.

"Terra blues, please"

"Immediately ma'am"

The ride is relatively short, the streets of New York are not very busy tonight.

As soon as the taxi stops, I leave the money for the driver.

"Keep the change"

I walk away without even waiting for his answer.

As soon as I enter I am hit by the fragrance of beer and whiskey.Jazz music resounds in the air, they are playing live from the stage which is located right at the end of the room.In front of the stage there are some wooden tables and chairs.On both sides there are counters that run along the walls, in front the high wooden stools.

I seat on a stool right in front of the bartender.

"I'll bring you a drink sweetheart?"

"Two vodkas, straight.And if you stop calling me sweetheart, I might as well leave you a nice tip at the end of the evening"

"At the orders of her ma'am"

He walks away and after a few seconds comes back with my order.

I drink the first shot in one gulp.

I look around.

The place is nice and welcoming.

I scan the room thoroughly, looking for my victim and...BINGO!

Found!

I stare at him for a few seconds and immediately his gaze is chained to mine.

He has blue eyes like the sky at dusk, a square jaw covered with a light beard and dark hair left a little longer and messy.

I just smile at him, a winking smile.

He continues to observe me.

I look away and go back to my drink.

Our game of glances becomes more and more lewd.

So I make the first move.

I call the bartender and order two more shots of Vodka.

"One for me and one for that boy over there"

The man pours me my drink and then brings the other to him.

I see them talking to each other and the barman gestures in my direction.

Enchanting eyes stares me in the eye and raises an eyebrow.

I smile and raise my drink in his direction, he does the same with his and we make a toast from a distance.

Ok now the time has come.

I get up confident in myself, without looking back I walk towards the bathroom.

I grab the handle but before entering I turn to him.

His eyes are glued to my figure and as soon as they meet my eyes I smile and wink.

I walk into the bathroom hoping my plan will work.

Bucky POV

What the hell am I doing.

What the hell am I doing.

What the hell am I doing.

These are the ones that I keep repeating incessantly in my head as I walk briskly towards the bathroom door of this pub.

Tonight I only came here with the intention of having a drink and letting go of the anger.

My girlfriend and I have had a fight again, we have only been together for 6 months, yet it seems that we do nothing but fight.

She says she would like more attention.

I give it to her but she thinks it's not enough.

I feel impatient.

And I feel ungrateful.

I was given a second chance.

I went from being a ruthless killer to being a model man.

An Avengers.

In the eyes of the world I have everything you could want.

A respectable job, wherever I go I am recognized and praised.

My best friend is the best man in the world and I have to do my part alongside him.

I must be worthy to be his friend.

My girlfriend is a strong, loyal and respected woman across America.

The team I work with has welcomed me with open arms, even Tony Stark has granted me his forgiveness.

"It's not your fault, you had no choice" these are his words.

I would have preferred if he had punched me.

I hate all this.

I feel stuck in a life that I don't feel mine, I would like to scream my anger and all my pain but I can't.

I can't disappoint everyone who believed in me.

I can't disappoint Steve.

He has exposed himself in the first person for me, he's proud of me and my path.

He says I deserve all this but I'm not from agreement.

I wanted to pay for my sins, I feel like my soul was still dirty, stained.

And now as if that weren't enough I spent the evening exchanging fiery glances with a perfect stranger.

A stranger as beautiful as sin.

Hair red as the flames of hell.

Red lips that bring to mind only lustful thoughts.

Those green eyes, so penetrating, as if mother nature had taken two emeralds and smoothed them, giving them to her just for the sake of driving men mad.

I put my hand on the bathroom door handle and open with a deep breath.

The bathroom is dark, only low blue neon lights to brighten the environment.

There are four cubicles to my left and a large mirror with two sinks below to my right.

Not even the time to take a couple of steps that a small hand, nails enameled in red, grabs me by the shirt and pulls me into the first small cubicle.

In a moment I find myself glued to her lips.

Her tongue clashing with mine, violently.

Each of us strives for supremacy.

Each of us does not want to succumb to the other.

My vibranium arm wraps around her back, my other hand locks the door.

Immediately both of her arms tighten around my neck, with her fingers she massages the nape of my neck.

She pulls my hair.

I dig my hands into the warm flesh of her bare back.

With every movement of her her dress is lifted, it is so short that drives me crazy.

She pulls away from my mouth only to trace the outline of my mouth with her tongue, lingers on my lower lip.She bites its gently and then sucks.

A roar comes from deep in my chest.

This kiss is animalistic, indecent.

Tongues and teeth, teeth that tear and bite.

And I'm loving it.

Her hands from the back of my neck go down to my chest and, as she kisses me and bites my neck, she unbuttons the shirt completely.

She uses her small hands to slide the shirt from my arms, I humor her and stay bare-chested.

Slowly, with a trail of kisses, she goes down and down.

Until she's on her knees in front of me.

She unfastens my belt and lowers my pants and boxers, just enough to release my aching erection.

My cock, red and angry tip, twiching in her hand.

I put my hands on the wall in front of me, looking up at the ceiling.

I should stop her.

I should stop.

But I can't and every bit of self-control disappears when I feel her warm, velvety mouth wrapping the tip of my cock.

I look down at her and find her staring at me.

Her bright green eyes almost look like they can light up this dingy bathroom.

With one hand she grabs my cock from the base, she licks it all along its length.

Her free hand massages my testicles.

Her tongue starts from the balls to reach the tip where she licks the first drops of precum.

I grab the sides of her neck, with my thumbs I stroke her cheeks.

I see her sucking me into her mouth, her sinful red lips wrapped around me.

I push her head and my hips lunge.

She gags unprepared for that violent invasion.

I feel it hit the bottom of her throat.

"Don't worry, I know you can do it.Just a few more seconds"

I whisper in a hoarse voice broken by passion.

I come out of her mouth with a pop that sounds obscene.

I push myself back to her mouth but this time she is prepared and tilts her head slightly to welcome me completely.

Always eye to eye.

Tears fill with her eyes as she tries to breathe and after a few seconds I let her go.

A trickle of saliva goes from her mouth to my dick.

She takes a few seconds to catch her breath and then comes back to take care of me.

Voracity, I feel his tongue wrap around my tip.

Roll my eyes in my head.

For heaven's sake I feel I'm losing control, if she continues like this I could cum at any moment.

So I grab her by the shoulders and forcefully lift her, almost tugging on her.

I take possession of her mouth again, she lets herself be devoured, I go down on her neck and bite that portion of skin right behind her ear.

She moans like a kitten.

And now it's my turn, I've been waiting for this moment ever since I saw her reach the bathroom.

I kneel at her feet and pull her dress up, lift it up to her stomach.

Delicious lace panties make their appearance.

I put my index fingers on either side of them and pull them down to her ankles.

I take them off her and looking into her eyes I put them in the pocket of my pants.

A corner of her mouth rises upwards.

I go back to focusing on her body.

My fingers go up lightly, starting from the hollow of her knees up to her butt.

I squeeze it, it is as firm as I imagined.

Soft and delicious.

In the meantime, I kiss her thighs, first her right and after her left.

I rub my nose along her fold, kiss her mount of venus.

I feel her vibrate under my touch.

I lift her right leg and place it on my left shoulder, she trembles when her hot skin comes into contact with the Vibranium.

I kiss her inner thighs.

One time.

One more time.

And then lick.

Lick her fold, I linger on the clit and suck.

Her legs tremble and her hands clench into fists in my hair.

In the air only the sound of moans and the wet sound of my tongue lapping into her cunt.

I slowly insert a finger inside her, curling it, and hooked inside her.

She moves her hips following the pace I dictate.

"Yet another" her voice is distorted with pleasure.

I understand what she wants and add a second finger.

I pick up the pace.

I understand she is about to cum, her cunt tightening around my fingers in a delicious way.

With my mouth I apply the right pressure on her clit and she cums.

She does it screaming, her face distorted by passion.

I get up licking my fingers without ever taking my eyes off hers, moaning relentlessly at the sensation of her moisture in my mouth.

She pulls me towards her and this time she devours my lips.

I let her do it.

I wrap my arms around her back and with a light jump she fastens her legs to my waist.

Now I'm holding her only with my vibranium arm, with the other hand I grab my cock and use it to make my way inside her.

I rub my tip against her clit.

"Wait!Wait!" her voice brings me back down to earth.

"What happens?"

"Do you have a condom?"

Damn.

"No.Shit!"

"Don't worry, I have one in my purse"

So saying she points to a small black purse hanging from the door handle.

I let go of my dick and lean to the side to grab the purse.

I hold it open in front of her eyes while she with a hand rummages through it while her other hand clings to the back of my neck.

Thank God she finds it.

I rest the bag in its place and in the meantime she opens the condom package with her teeth.

Then she uses both hands to wrap it up on my cock in a few moves.

Meanwhile, let's keep kissing.

I break the kiss for a moment and rest my forehead against hers.

For a moment I feel lost.

She notices it.

"If you want we can stop"

Her breathing is irregular, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shiny with lust.

I should stop but I don't want to.

"No" I reply harshly.

And just as hard I enter her.

One push, rough.

Her nails dig into the flesh of my arm.

I feel her stiffen, she bites her lips almost until they bleed.

I remain motionless inside her.

”I'm sorry" I whisper.

Being still is torture, she is so hot and tight.

"No.No it's ok.Give me a few moments” she whispers back.

"Is your size a little too...generous?"

We both giggle.

Jesus Christ why are we so in tune?

A one night only shouldn't be like that.

It should be just sex, non-complicity and smiles.  When I notice that the discomfort begins to leave her face I begin to move, slowly this time.

I go in and out of her with a disarming slowness, I use my hand of flesh to drag my dick up and down her slit and then reenter her.

She throws her head back, her moans more and more acute and uncontrolled.

I increase my pace.

And she now clings with both hands to the sides of my face.

She has her eyes closed.

"Open your eyes" I demand.

I don't want to miss the wonder of those gems.

She does.

And I am ecstatic again.

With each thrust her beautiful breasts bounce.

I want to see them, so with a quick movement of my hand I lower the cleavage of her dress even more.

No bra.

Great.

I smile and grab one in my hands.

It's big.

One hand of mine barely holds it, I lower my mouth on it and with my tongue I tease the nipple.Then I take it in my mouth and I suck it.

”Oh my…just like that”

Her voice is an octave higher, she likes what I'm doing to her.

"Please…harder"

And I can't help but please her.

I poundend in her, my hips moving so fast.

The sloppy wet sounds coming from where we are connected push me to the edge.

I slow down my pace, I don't want to cum.

Not now.

Not like that.

I pull myself out of her and she whimpers at the empty feeling.

I put her down making sure she can stand on her legs.

I lean down until my lips are close to her ear and whisper

“Turn around and bend over”

This bathroom is so tight, stuffy.

The air around us is hot, it feels hard to even breathe.It's like the heat of our bodies and of our panting has caused the temperature around us to rise.

Anything it does brings my excitement to the stars.

"Lift your foot and place it here" so saying I grab her left ankle and guide her foot over the toilet seat.

Now she is open before my eyes.

I spank her with my hand in vibranium, a strangled moan leaves her lips.

I enter her again.

I sink my hands into the flesh of her side and squeeze tight, tomorrow she will surely bruised but doesn't seem to care.

With every push of mine she comes towards me.

Her ass bouncing in front of me.

I wonder how it is possible to be so in tune with a stranger, she seems to understand my needs.

My urgency.

My pain.

She understands me more than my girlfriend does and, God have mercy on me, even more than my best friend.

I wrap her ponytail around my fist and pull her towards me.

I pull her until she lifts herself up just enough so that her back is against my chest.

I keep pumping into her nonstop.

I let go of her hair and grab her throat with my vibranium hand, she turns her head towards me and brings her arm up over her so that her hand is behind my neck.

She squeezes a lock of my hair in her fingers and kisses me.

We pant in each other's mouth.

"Open your mouth”

As soon as she does it I spit inside her.

“Swallow”

She swallows and it's one of the hottest things I've ever seen.

”I'm gonna cum” I warned her.

“If you want…aaaah” she cry out.

“If you want you can cum in my mouth.But first let me cum" her voice comes out lustful.

My grip on her neck increases.

With my free hand I go down to her clit and begin to stimulate her with circular motions.

She is close, I feel her pussy milking my cock.

Another couple of thrusts well placed and she cums screaming.

Her body shakes with a thousand chills.

I keep stimulating her until it become nearly painful for her.

I walk out of her, turn her towards me and kiss her again.

My hands are on her breasts.

I squeeze and massage.

She lowers her hands on my cock, takes off the condom and throws it into the bin next to her.

Within seconds she is kneeling again in front of me.

My dick in her mouth.

She sucks merciless and I indulge her thrusting movements in and out in her mouth.

"Oh yeah baby…just like that.Don't stop"

And so I cum.

I cum in her mouth and she licks everything.

She cleans up and swallows every last drop of me.

She slowly rises, leaving a trail of hot kisses along my abdominals, on my neck and finally on my mouth.

I can feel my taste through her.

We break away to look each other into eyes.

A drop of me has remained on her chin, I pick it up with my thumb and then put it in her mouth.

She sucks its as if her life depended on it.

We are both short of breath.

Our chest rise and fall furiously, continuing to touch each other in this narrow space.

She gives me one last sweet kiss and leaves the cubicle.

I can not do it.

I collapse without strength on the toilet.

She stops in front of the mirror and tries to put herself in order.

I see her cover her breasts and pull down her skirt.

She looks for my eyes through the mirror.

"Do you think I could have my panty back?"

She asks me with a raised eyebrow.

I pretend to think about it and I answer her.

"If it does the same for you I'd rather keep them"

"You're a little pervert, you know?"

"Me?"

We both burst out laughing.

I go back to observe her.

She now fixing her hair and trying to clean the smudges of her lipstick.

She washes her hands then grabs her purse.

She heads for the door that will take her back to the pub hall.

"I don't even know your name"

I don't know why I said it.

She hangs her hand on the doorknob.

She talks to me without turning around.

"Better this way because if I told you I would have to kill you"

She just turns her head towards me and she winks at me.

"It was a pleasure Sergeant Barnes"

And she leaves.

I stare at the door like an idiot.

Did I really think she didn't recognize me?

I have a fucking vibranium arm how the hell am I supposed to go unnoticed?

I look at myself in the reflection of the mirror.

I'm a mess.

Unkempt hair and a flushed face.

I get up and put on my shirt, closing the buttons one after the other.

I adjust my pants and go to one of the two sinks.

I rinse my face with cold water and meticulously check that there is no trace of her lipstick left.

It would be really hard to explain once I get home.

I still can't believe what I've done, it's true that I feel suffocated in my relationship but never, ever thought of cheating on her.

I'm not that kind of man…or at least I wasn't.

I should feel guilty.

I'm a traitor, a bastard.

Yet I feel good, light.

I feel myself after I don't know how long.

I look at myself one last time in the mirror, I try to arrange my hair as best I can by passing my hands several times but in the end I give up.

I'm just making it worse.

I leave the bathroom and head directly to the exit, I don't even look around.

I don't want to know if she is still here.

I go out into the warm New York air, even though it's already 11:00 PM it's hot.

The heat makes the air unbreathable and the clothes stick to my body.

I walk down the street to the Avengers Tower.

I sigh.

I don't want to go back it's as if I felt the physical need to be alone, brooding over what happened and above all about what I really want.

What do I really want?

This is the problem…I don't know!

I barely know who I am, I can't know what I want but apparently the others know.

And I base my new life on that, on what others expect of me.

I enter the large tower belonging to Stark and head directly to the kitchen, I need to drink some water and honestly I have not yet found the courage to go back to my room where she will surely be waiting for me.

Great.

I notice that the light in the kitchen is on and Steve is sitting at one of the stools positioned in front of the kitchen counter.

"Hey pal, trouble to sleep?"

I ask as I approach the fridge.

I open the door in search of a bottle of water.

"No, honestly I was waiting for you.Would you like if they exchange a few words?"

I squeeze my eyes, hidden behind the fridge door I look for a solution to avoid all this but I know it doesn't exist.

Besides, I can't dismiss him like that, he's my best friend.

He has saved my life on many occasions.

He is the only real family left to me.He is the link with my real self, the man I was in the 40s.

I close the fridge and bring the bottle to my lips, I take big sips.

"Sure man, what's up?"

“I know that you and Sharon have had a fight again.It happens a lot lately.Everything good?"

"Did you talk to her?" my only answer.

Steve puts a hand behind his head to scratch it.

"No.She talked about it with Nat and she…”

“ Obviously she told you”

I continue his sentence.

Here this is one thing I would like.

I would like a relationship like the one that Steve and Natasha have.

They understand only by looking, they always talk about everything.

There are no secrets between them.

They are not only lovers, they are also friends and accomplices.

And from what Steve told me in bed they spark.

Quite the opposite of my relationship.

I can't open up to Sharon, I can't tell her honestly about how I feel.

I'm afraid of her judgment.

She is a Carter.

Damn.

Member of a respected family.

She chose me as a mate, I have to keep expectations after all.

When Steve found out about our relationship, he was delighted.

”Sharon is a good girl, she is smart and loyal.Great choose pal" so he told me that day.

And then in bed between us it's all monotonous and repetitive.

I don't know how my story with her started, she was there by my side when I needed.

He helped Steve and me to think Tony Stark, she avoided the outbreak of a real “civil war”.

She was with me in Wakanda when I got rid of the Winter Soldier forever.

It was inevitable to get close, to end up together.

I am grateful to her, really but I don't love her.

And I don't know how to tell her.

My God!I've been with her for 6 months, she told me she loves me and with all her goodness and sweetness she hugged me and told me I didn't have to worry about anything.

"Don't worry James, when you hear it too you will tell me.There is no rush"

It's been 2 months since then but I haven't told her yet.

I can't tell her.

Steve watches me, I know he's trying to figure out what's happening to me.

"Sure you're okay, Buck?You don't seem like you lately, at least not 100%.You know you can always talk to me.I could never judge you"

Oh I know Steve.I know you would never judge me but I'm terrified to see the disappointment in your eyes.

So I swallow all the discomfort I feel, put a big smile on my face and answer him.

"Nah man, it's okay.Little couple quarrels.I think they're normal, right?"

We stare at each other for a few seconds.

Steve sighs.

"Okay but please if there is something bothering you, anything, tell me.All right?"

"Absolutely Steve.You would be the first one I would turn to"

I throw the now empty bottle in the garbage and head for the elevator.

Steve follows me, we go up in silence.

"Ok Buck, goodnight"

"Goodnight dude"

I slowly walk in my room.

A figure in my bed.

Sharon is sleeping.

I watch her.

She sleeps on her side, hands right under her cheek.

Her long legs one on top of the other and her slender ankles intertwined.

Long blond hair is down.

Spread across the pillow like threads of gold.

Her lips parted slightly.

She's wearing a T-shirt of mine that barely covers her butt.

She's beautiful.

Why can't I love her?

I take my pillow, being careful not to wake her, and I head to the sofa positioned in front of the large window.

I'll sleep here, I don't want to wake her up because I wouldn't even have the courage to look at her face.

I need to interpose a night between the unknown woman and my girlfriend.

I have to come back to myself and move on.

Or at least I have to try.

Amaya POV

From the bathroom I head to the bartender.

I pay for my drinks and tip them $ 10.

I go out of the pub and immediately a wave of heat hits me in full.

I see a taxi coming in the distance and I raise my hand.

It stops immediately.

"Good evening sweetheart, where will I take you?"

I do not take care to initiate any kind of dialogue with the driver.

I just give him my address.

Throughout the journey I notice his slimy glances that he throws at me through the rearview mirror.

I smile.

Poor fellow does not know how close he is to his death if only he even tried to touch me.

He don't know that I would be able to break his neck with my bare hands.

He doesn't know who I am.

Nobody actually knows, or at least they don't know the truth.

For everyone, I'm just Agent Snow.Amaya Snow.

Daughter of two of the best and most respected agents that S.H.I.E.L.D. ever had.

I am an agent like many others who have decided to work behind a desk instead of in the field.

But that's just the version of me that's in the public domain.

In reality, I am Agent Zero.

Fury's right hand man, I've been working alongside him for 10 years now.

When my parents died I was 16 and only the year before I entered the academy.

Only three people know my true identity.

Fury, Maria Hill and for some years also the Black Widow has entered our secret circle.

The director of S.H.I.E.L.D. he noticed my skills and took me under his wing, becoming my mentor and my only point of reference.

And only two years later he had offered me this role.

I accepted without hesitation.

Working in the shadows seemed perfect to me at the time.

It gave me the right range of motion so that no one would ever notice me.

So that I was free to find my parents' killer.

I sacrificed everything for this job.

Without friends, unable to let anyone into my life because no one can find out who I really am.

Some say that Agent Zero is just a legend, no one knows if it is a man or a woman.

All we know is that he is a lethal killer, who does not miss a goal.

Indeed, only one man had managed to escape me.

The Winter Soldier.

The same man I seduced tonight, Sergeant Barnes.

His expression was priceless when I said his name.

I look out the window, the streets of the Big Apple flow quickly before my eyes and after a few more minutes I'm under my house.

I pay my ride and get out of the car, making sure that the dress does not rise too much.

My panty were currently in someone else's trouser pocket.

I smile.

Absurd.

I enter the house kicking my shoes, they will be beautiful but damn if they are torture for the feet.

I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and threw myself on the sofa.

I should feel awful for what I've done.

I shouldn't have aimed for Barnes.

He is an Avengers and is engaged to one of the women I respect most in the world.

The descendant of Peggy Carter, the woman who founded S.H.I.E.L.D.

The woman who inspired my entire life and career.

And instead I feel relieved, for a moment I forget all my cursed past.

God if he found out Fury would tear me apart.

But I really couldn't miss this opportunity, the only goal I've ever missed.

I had the opportunity to submit him to my will.

Spite?Maybe.

And then he is beautiful, useless to deny it.

Blue eyes to take your breath away and then he has a vibranium arm.

That fucking arm!

C'mon!It is the erotic desire par excellence.

I get up to take a shower.

I enter the bathroom and after tying my hair in a messy bun I enter the shower, the fresh water regenerates my body and mind.

I stay under the jet of water for a few minutes, then I soap and rinse everything carefully.

I'm just wearing panties and an old mom t-shirt.

It's too hot tonight.

I open the window and let a light breeze circulate in the hot and muggy room.

I think back to what happened tonight.

James Barnes.

His hands, his mouth.

His fingers in vibranium that squeezed my flesh.

His fingers inside me.

His big cock and how he uses it divinely.

Even if it was a one night only, there was a lot of chemistry.

I felt less alone for that short amount of time.

I don't know what this connection is due to.

Perhaps the fact that our hands are dripping with other people's blood in the same way.

We are two lonely souls, after all no one can understand the inner agony that remains when you spend years killing.

I close my eyes.

From tomorrow morning I will go back to being myself, I will never think about this night again.

Sergent Barnes will remain only a memory.

I will certainly never see him again.

Please share, comment and rate ❤️

🔥 Masterlist 🔥

[deerfests]

it was so hard to decide on which one to do but for the ship ask meme: 26 and mr. scratch x alan

Alan/Scratch + 26. …as an apology.

Content warning: Spoilers for Alan Wake 2.

The shot fired and Alan lost consciousness almost right away, his limp body falling into the chair behind him. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the writer’s room. No. He didn’t know where he was, which quite frankly didn’t come as a surprise. Wake looked around, but everything was bright. So bright he couldn’t make out shapes and his eyes hurt. Spots in his vision all throughout.

He moved forward with heavy steps, barely succeeding in moving his limbs. Everything felt like he had been submerged in water, weightless and difficult to navigate. This lasted for so long Alan wasn’t certain if this was his new normal.

Eventually, exhaustion took over, and he closed his eyes. Opening them, with great force and determination, he realized he was no longer standing in the light. Instead, the surroundings had once more changed. This time, he found himself in a forest. He started to wade through the sinking ground, walking forward with more momentum than before.

He heard whimpering, distorted and filled with static. It raised the feeling of unease within him. He stepped through an arch of trees, and, suddenly, beyond it, walked into the interior of Bird Leg Cabin.

Wake’s body worked on its own volition. He went upstairs as if something was dragging him there. The door to the study was open and he saw the body lying there, the source of the sounds… curled up on the floor, his double.

Alan stepped slowly forward, as if anticipating the other to jump at him. Attack him. But none of that came. When the writer kneeled next to the shadow, he rolled him from the fetal position into lying on his back. There was recognition that the doppelganger was in pain. There was also a moment of grief and regret, with which he was overtaken. Alan leaned down. Took his face into his hands, and gently placed his lips on the other’s. A brief exchange, goodbyes and an apology.

It couldn’t have been different. 

The pity that the writer felt for the shadow was unparalleled. When he pulled away, he swam through endless imagery and words.

Alice…. Spirals…. No longer loops. Ascension. Destruction… and creation...

Alan jumped in his seat, back in the writer’s room. Every realization and all that happened, crashing through him like a wave. Saga and Casey watched him in shock. Alan allowed another brief moment of unwanted sorrow.

It worked. Scratch was gone.

[thetruearchmagos]

Heads Up, 7 Up!

Hey folks! Thank you kindly @athenswrites for the Tag for this one! It triggered the inspiration for something I've had in mind for a while, so... I may have overdone this one.

Tagging @caxycreations @hessdalen-globe @theprissythumbelina @lividdreamz @thatndginger

The Thiodo River ran from north to south like one of the great, bloated constrictors that swam its waters, taking a meandering path through thick jungle from the highlands to San Felix Bay. Those waters, and those of its tributaries, were slow, wide, and mostly shallow, stretching its tendrils like vines across the low lying province.

That a flat bottomed barge was plying one such stream was not itself unusual, for that was how those brown waters had been travelled for as long as anyone could remember. The pair of armed guards, standing watch at the front to the left and right, made for a recent enough addition, and an unwelcome one.

They didn't use to post guards at all, not before the barges started disappearing. Young men dressed and armed shabbily, the tight rolls of cheap musgo burning in their mouths said a great deal about what they thought of their present duties. Sweating hard under a blinding sun, both were counting the seconds until the next shift took over.

The barge trundled on, passing by a small clearing from the tree canopy where a family of crocodiles sunbathed. A large log floated downstream ahead, and the barge's pilot corrected course to port, sliding close to the right bank still thick with foliage.

Two guns barked two shots into the heavy air, their cracks stirring the lazy beasts and splitting the heads of both guards open with a jet of blood. Two green-clad forms with snub-nosed carbines leapt from an outstretched dead stump and crashed onto the deck's planks besides one of the bodies, while more shots rang out and pelted the barge's upper works. The two boarders raised their weapons as a third man ran out from the superstructure, cutting him down instantly.