#t: into the lion's den

[theunknownmasks]

And something did shift in his eyes and mood. "Of course. Let me correct you Pharaoh.. Mana hurt me you recall she tore out my eye. She attacked first. believe what you will. I never hurt her. Love me? as if that some twisted joke. Again you said this before .. and i warned you not to say that to me again you KNOW HOW I felt. why did it have to be you. that i fell for."

Fuck...he was trying to not bring up the past. Not like this anyways. He simply wanted to say no matter what had been said and done between them all, that he still felt the way he did. It was coming to blow up in his face.

"Thief..that's not what I'm trying to say, I know this but we've had a lot of...issues between all of us. I didn't mean physically. I meant that we've all hurt each other in some way..and no matter what.." He felt like the energy between them had passed so he was dropping it. With a light shake of his head. "Nevermind..it's not important. I'm sorry, Thief. I never meant to bring that up. If you..need some time alone just say it I'll go." He was shutting down as he always did as a pharaoh.

Those words stung hearing it from him. More than he led on as he held back the pain in his heart and the tears that wanted to leave him. He held it all in and took a breath.

It was like a light switch that he had to flick off to turn it all off. No matter how much that hurt.

"I'm sorry..that you love a man like me."

[theunknownmasks]

He ran his hand down from her hair to her back to rub at it, hoping that they could get passed this and that he could still her mind. She didn't deserve this. He knew that...things were complicated but, she never deserved any of that.

Though when she pulled away to hold his face..seeing her worry for him. He shook his head lightly before bringing his hands up to hold those precious hands to his face as he closed his eyes for a minute, reopening them to look down at her.

He hated to remind her of something that would hurt her heart but, it was a fact..

"I died before you did remember?...So..I....the sight brings me pain obviously but, knowing you outlived me. I am happy with that. Content in my sacrifice to our home, to our people..they are the bones of the woman I love and cherish with all my heart. My best friend." He simply said as a gentle smile drew on his face as he looked at her. A softness within his features as he turned his head to kiss at her palm and pulled her hands down to his chest.

"I am happy you lived."

As soon as the box was away, the pull that had taken over her seemed to lift, and she relaxed just a little, though she was still shaken.

“Thank you, heart…” Her arms wrapped tighter around him, and she let out a sob of a sigh. She still felt like she could be sick, she was wouldn’t have ever have guessed that would be her reaction to her old form’s remains.

“Oh, shi— I’m sorry, that must have brought back some awful memories for you.” She pulled back to cup his face, worry in her eyes.

Yes, she was refocusing so she wouldn’t have to think about it. If possible she would happily repress the knowledge of what had happened. It was worrying thinking of how that could have affected him though.

[kay9leo]

#MCtober2024 -Meet Iñaki "MC" Martinez Cariaga

Based on @lamieboo's #MCtober2024 event (click on #MCtober for more info).

Note that she's from a Hogwarts Legacy AU that takes place in the late 2000s. Hence why she says Dungeon Snakes Rulez! (if you don't get the reference, it's from Fallout 3). She goes by "MC" since she doesn't want people to call her by her entire double surname. She's also trying to mimic that Spiderman graveyard meme pose here lol.

Iñaki hates potions in the US not because she's bad at it, but because of how careful and focused she tries to be to do well in the class. However, in the UK, she hate History of Magic due to Professor Binns. She loves Ancient Runes and DADA with Professor Hecat being her favorite due to the fact all the things they do in class matter for real life as well. That and she finds Hecat to be a cool teacher Professor.

Iñaki also tends to keep her wand in her hair bun. Most people think that's just a hair stick holding her hair up. Nope, just her wand lol.(More on Iñaki below the cut.)

Originally when she came to Hogwarts, she and Fig were late to the point that they missed her sorting and she was houseless for a week before she was allowed to be sorted.

In that time, she ended up befriending Amit, Poppy, Natsai and Garreth. She didn't care much for Sebastian, finding him too cocky during their first duel in DADA. While Iñaki found it easy to befriend people from the other houses, Slytherins didn't seem as opened to making friends.

Which would work in her favor.

When it came time to be sorted, Iñaki had a plan.

Seeing that she wasn't really going to be in Hogwarts/the U.K. for that long (3 years at most, a year at the least -which is something that she hopes for), Iñaki figured there was no point avoiding the invertible and just limit her interactions with people that she liked. She already had a hard time saying goodbye to her former friends when she temporarily moved to the U.K., she wasn't going to go through that again when she would finally move back home to the U.S. permanently.

When the sorting hat was placed on her head, she was a hat stall for either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff (to most people's surprise when they learned about it). She asked the hat to place her in Slytherin and had to convince the hat as to why. Iñaki would spend 5 minutes on the stool making her case as to why she should join the den of the snakes and ultimately the hat allows her to join Slytherin.

(The hat was impressed by her ambition to not make friends and trying to leave Hogwarts without leaving her own mark on the place or vice versa).

However, before the hat made its decision, it gave her a piece of advice saying:"...things aren't always as they seem. Take a moment to step back and see things as they are and not as you wish.", before it yelled out: SLYTHERIN.

It was a huge surprise to everyone since most people thought she would either be a Lion or a Badger due to her personality. There were even some bets about her being an Eagle, but barely anyone betted on her being a Snake.

Unfortunately for Iñaki, she didn't account certain variables for her plan to remain friendless in the den of snakes. Not with Imelda, Ominis and especially Sebastian as her housemates.

....

More on Iñaki "MC" Martinez Cariaga

[stingslikeabee]

@ivory-paragon . from here

The madame's replies were of the non-verbal kind - a soft press over his arm and a smile for Rufus, although it was an entirely genuine one rather than something done as part of their own little theatrics. But underneath it all, the woman's heart was agitated - it was a night of firsts for Melissa in many forms, including the next steps. While she was used to extracting information out of the average man who did not think honeygirls did much beyond spreading their legs and giggling at their jokes, their 'rat' was a different one.

It all pointed towards a reclusive soul, likely not too fond of socializing, and someone of high intelligence. Their act needed to be played perfectly or they risked losing track of that potential lead - with all the dire circumstances it entailed.

Once the couple left their box, Melissa made an effort to act like most of the girls around them did with their dates: enthusiastic about the performance of the first act, holding to the arm of their beau and not shying from the attention of their peers. It was a sea of differently colored dresses and jewelry on display and the Turks had outfitted the madame splendidly - while at the Honey Bee Inn she looked like the owner of the establishment, at the opera house she was easily lost among many other equally fashionable ladies.

Slowly, but steadily, they moved through the crowd while looking for the individual from earlier - and spotted him at the bar, waiting for his order. As the duo advanced, a server handed over a glass to their target - and judging by the coloration, one would imagine it to be wine. However, Melissa had read enough about the surroundings to know about their prized cherry productions, so potentially that could also be some local brandy.

Well - no matter; that glass was about to stain his white shirt in a couple of minutes.

Pulling some hair over a shoulder and ensuring the earpiece was well-hidden from view, Melissa politely detached herself from Rufus' arm with a cheerful exclamation about fetching them something to drink - and promptly made a beeline to their man, blaming their collision on a sudden twirl caused by her flamboyant excitement. The entire idea was for the madame to draw their little rat in - she had the unknown face and, for all they knew, the right gender for the experiments conducted in the past. The more the president remained in the background (as an observer), the better.

"I am so sorry, sir - please, allow me to help," and with that, Melissa's own performance started. The brunette looked genuinely mortified with the scene caused, then promptly started to go through her own purse for a handkerchief she could use to wipe the moisture away while apologizing to him. As the entire thing developed, the woman also tried to get the best look she could at the man...

...And it reminded her of the sketch that Shinra had managed to get done. It was a good match.

"It must have been the excitement - I was too eager to finally see a version of the Mythril Enchantress at the city where the play was created," Melissa carried on, talking in a way that was aimed to convey just how much she had been enjoying the opera - one of Kalm's creations inspired after the legend of an enchantress (or ghost) that had roamed the mythril mines nearby and which was featured in several accounts from former workers. The opera had fashioned it into something much more dramatic, as these often did... But if their suspect was one fond of the craft, perhaps talking about it would yield enough proof of his identity?

And maybe it had been luck (or just sheer preparation with the Turks), but it worked - the man's eyes moved from his shirt to Melissa, and he seemed oddly interested in the lady fussing with his clothing all of a sudden. Craning his head a bit, he asked:

"Is this your first time seeing this one, miss...?"

"Isabel Avelar," the madame replied easily enough, flashing a smile to the stranger and then stepping back to gauge the effectiveness of her attempt of cleaning him up from the brandy, "Yes, it is my first time. I adore the classics and I have seen too many adaptations of Loveless, but coming to Kalm for this local gem had been on my dream list for ages. My fiancé was kind enough to secure the best tickets... There is no best place to enjoy it but from a box and undisturbed by the chatter, wouldn't you agree?"

[janumun]

A Relentless Conquest (LaDS Sylus - NSFW)

Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: 10.7k Pairing: Sylus/Reader

Tags: dueling (Sylus fighting), semi-public sex, oral and vaginal sex, Sylus’s brand of manhandling, dry humping, praising, dirty talk, rough sex, wander in wonder AU/historical AU, based in ancient Mongolia, creampie, size difference, mild rich/poor class power dynamics

Summary: What happens when you end up catching the unwanted attentions of a sleazy magistrate on a day out in town? A duel for your honor — or lifelong imprisonment — is what awaits you. That is, until Sylus, leader of the exceedingly notorious Onychinus gang, and a man you dub reluctantly, an old acquaintance, intervenes and offers the immoral magistrate a deal he cannot refuse.

[A fic where Sylus engages in a precarious duel in order to free you from the clutches of a corrupt high official; wins the duel AND the prize at stake, you.]  

Author’s Notes: The things the Wander in Wonder trailer did to me were unspeakable, I had to get started on this fic right away. Another long monstrosity so it took me quite a while to hammer it out smoothly. Some terms used within, to note: *tögrögs is an old Mongolian currency and *Lungtang is the Mongolian city used loosely within this fic’s setting, as per Sylus’s alleged outfit inspiration drawn from the Mongol’s hunting fit in the current event, “Wander in Wonder” . An amazing twitter thread for the rest of the inspirations drawn for the boys’ outfits can be found here. 

Link to Ao3

Perhaps you should’ve considered your course of action through before you’d tossed yourself voluntarily into the metaphorical den of lions. Caleb did always tease you for your often impudent ways, declaring you’d get yourself into hot water someday.   

You didn’t quite think past saving the small, unfortunate child in front, when he’d careened straight into the Magistrate, staining the sickly bone white of his gaudy robes with the treat he’d been brandishing in hand. An action of careless innocence that could’ve saddled the boy with a severe punishment of thrashings at best. And at worst —   

You didn’t even wish to entertain the horrifying notion.   

You whisper a quick note of warning to the trembling child in your arms before he’s nodding his assent, making a clean dash away from the Magistrate and his burly procession of hired cronies. They do not move to stop him; the official’s beady eyes sweeping cursory across his fleeing figure before he focuses upon you once more.   

“Well then, speak up, girl. How do you plan on making up for the crimes of the filthy criminal you just let escape?” He leers at you, sending a frisson of disgust through your veins. “I do not mind much, provided you are able to compensate me in full.” He holds up two thick, swollen fingers. “two thousand tögrögs.” Your stomach revolts in near horror at the exorbitant price he names.   

“Speak, lass, do you possess the means to compensate me?”  

“...Apologies, Sire, I do not.”  

The Magistrate clicks his tongue at you, as if that son of a cur had not already anticipated your answer; your garb alone giving away your status as a mere commoner while he stood, a tall, foolish braggart of a Magistrate, who’d been a constant source of worry amongst the townsfolk as of late. “What a pity. I guess we shall have to make you pay off with what you do have on person, shan’t we?”   

His eyes rove down the length of your body in a manner greasy enough, it has your fingers itching to claw them out of his skull. Thoughts of the consequences of your actions extending to your family after — your grandmother and Caleb — are what stay your hands, firm by your side. You try and maintain that demure grace firm within your body instead.  

“What else are we to do if she cannot pay for what she has cost me, yes?” The Magistrate flourishes his arms wide and turns, towards the crowd that has gathered to watch, setting the stage for his perverse demands. “An eye for an eye, an honor exchanged for honor; that is the Law of our Lungtang, is it not?”  

None of the commonfolk dare to speak against the tyrant’s words, lest they make of themselves a new target to harass. And you do not blame them either, the burden of your reckless actions, yours to bear alone.   

The man trundles forwards on heavy steps; the large, ugly stain left across his robes growing wider in your lowered line of sight before the expanse of his bloated, sweating hand fills your field of vision. The rings around his fingers, nearly engorging the base of them as he curls his hand about your jaw to heave your gaze up towards him.   

The ugly, toad-like sweep of his tongue against the top row of black and gold teeth has a chill skittering down your spine. “You’re rather lovely, you know that?” He croaks in a low, creeping voice.   

You bite harsh into your bottom lip to revolt against the bile that threatens to reflux past your throat and onto the bastard’s face. “What say you become my whore then, dearest? I’d treat you very...” A slimy slip of the hand down the expanse of your body, to settle at your hip. “ well . And if you please me, you could even climb the ranks and become first Mistress, you know?” You judder at the stench of his breath, nearly in your face now. Unable to help the revulsion he inspires in you and you know; the cur in front takes it for a show of abashed innocence, with the way his leer stretches wider across his face.   

“I am far too plain and discourteous for a man of your stature, my lord. If there is anything else I could do for you in recompense, I would be more than delighted to offer my services.” The words uttered, sit sickly sweet on your tongue. “I have a good arm on me and can do any physical labor you may require of me.”   

The rat makes a show of deliberating your words. “It’s a pity the only ‘physical labor’ I require of you lies within my bed, dear girl.”   

You visibly recoil from his revolting touch at your arm; perhaps you aren’t able to quite keep your emotions from surfacing upon your face this time round as the man grabs at your forearm tighter, gaze darkening in simmering displeasure.   

“You know the law, woman. If you wish to run scot-free without offering anything in return, you must put your life on the line and agree to a duel with the offended party.” He chucks a thick, swollen thumb back at his minions, voice seething into a threatening octave. “And I wouldn’t suggest that unless you want them to crush that pretty face of yours.”  

You consider ending it all; cutting the bastard open for him to choke in a pool of his own gurgling blood. You think you could do it too, before his bodyguards could get to you.  

And with the loss of their Master, they wouldn’t be able to hold you prisoner within the dungeons for too long: you hoped. The stray, wild thought is all you can see within your vision.   

Your hand twitches for the dagger fastened right beneath your satchel, one Caleb had lent you for protection. Fingers barely grazing against the polished hilt of the blade, cobbling together courage to see your mad plan through.   

Before large, thick digits are slipping against yours to halt — a fleeting touch of caution — from behind, fracturing your hasty plan entirely.  

You’re barely able to comprehend the sudden, unnoticed proximity of your interloper, before a great arm is coiling fast about the expanse of your waist, snatching you swift from the Magistrate’s claws and firm against a warm, broad chest.  

“Now, what have you gotten yourself into this time?” The well-known burr, welcome, in that moment stirs joy within your belly as you reach to crane your neck to meet eyes with that familiar scarlet.  

“Sylus.” You croak in near disbelief.   

He exhales, low, against the shell of your ear, before he slowly lets go of you. “I’m away from Lungtang for a mere fortnight, only to find you scrounging for trouble, upon return.”   

Your irritation might’ve flared at his words if not for the phlegmy clearing of the Magistrate’s throat in front.   

“And who do you think you are to touch my property so carelessly, insolent fool?”  

Your ire directed from the man behind to the bastard in front. You feel Sylus’ hand soothe a flex about your shoulder.   

“My bad, honoured Magistrate.” He sweeps an insouciant palm at him, the grin upon his face edged to a dagger’s point. “We did not think you would be gracing Lungtang so soon with your noble presence. Or we might’ve arranged for a far better reception, for your Grace.”  

Each word that slips past Sylus’ lips is a sarcasm heavy barb that turns the official’s face in front purple with each syllable uttered. “That woman owes me, you dog. I shall make her my mistress, as is only fair I extract proper recompense from her for her grave offense.”  

One of the Magistrate’s men behind scamper forward in that moment to whisper urgently into his ear. The official’s eyes nearly burst out of his sockets at whatever he’s learned, wide toady gaze skittering towards Sylus as if he is indeed a rabid beast that would bite if disturbed.   

He thrusts an accusatory finger at him. “You are the Onychinus’ leader.” He spits. “That gang of lawless hounds.”  

Sylus’s mouth quirk into a vicious smile at the allegation. “That I am.”   

“You— you,” The Magistrate seems to sputter for the space of several moments before the man at his side mutters something else into his ear.   

The official straightens at whatever he’s heard, clearing his throat, once. Twice. “I am willing to pardon your crimes.” He begins once more. “Provided you can prove yourself worthy in a duel against one of my men.” The crowd around you breaks into quiet murmurs. “But,” he continues. “if you lose, Onychinus dog, then along with your little woman, you shall give up your life to my service, your autonomous tyranny within these lands shall cease to exist and you shall follow my sole command.” He pauses for a moment’s breath, as if to let the weight of what he believes to have been a devastating challenge, sink in.   

But all he earns from Sylus is a raised brow. “Sounds like a deal. Let us raise the stakes, though, shall we?” He cocks his head at the procession of guards right behind the Magistrate. “I’ll take on all your men, not just your best. Give you a real crutch to get started with.”   

The crowd of onlookers erupts into gasps of surprise and gibbering discussion amidst the concerning blue coloring the Magistrate’s face at the taunt. You desperately clutch at Sylus’s arm. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”  

He meets your wide-eyed panicked gaze with a cool, gentle one of his own. “Calm yourself down, kitten. I’ll be fine.” A large hand, he places gentle at your head in reassurance but all it does instead is send your alarm flaring higher.   

What had you roped the man into? Infuriating though he was. Sylus was a confounding acquaintance of years; you could not help be lured into irritation any time he were around — a man whose companionship you’d come to cherish in begrudging gratitude over your time together — but this is not what you’d wanted.   

Your reeling thoughts fractured by the screeching Magistrate in front. “You think you’re all that, you shameless scoundrel? Oh, you’re just a man and I’ll make sure they break your limbs, bone by excruciating bone, before we drag you bloodied and defeated, to my estate.” He spits the time of the duel to be held tomorrow in that same fury before he’s turning on you both and trudging back off to where he came from, his procession of cronies falling along right in line.   

And you’re left behind, with the metallic poison of your regret within your mouth and bone deep worry within your body as you stare up at Sylus’s form.   

The next day arrives much too soon, even as sleep evades you through the entirety of your night, spent tossing onto much too warm sheets.   

Now, having dragged yourself to dress and prepare yourself for the dreaded day, you trudge out of your home, chancing a brief, longing look upon the humble place over your shoulder, in case it were truly your last.   

You hadn’t divulged the details of your itinerary for the day — which possibly entailed getting sold into slavery to a sleazy official, by the time noon rolled in — to Grandmother or Caleb and you preferred it remain that way for as long as possible. Your Grandmother was coming along in her years, with weakened nerves now and Caleb tended to be a frightful worrywart in matters concerning you.   

“Someone’s starting the day rather early. That eager to see me fight, are you, kitten?” The familiar voice beckons. You toss a raised brow over your shoulder at your previously truant neighbour, now returned — his house having settled long vacant in his absence, over the course of his journey to Gods knew where. And the root cause of all your fretting; Sylus moves to join you by your side in two easy strides.  

“Don’t you even dare try joke about it, you absolute madman,” you mutter darkly under your breath, reaching to knock a fist against the side of his torso.   

The same old routine you tumble into, with him; you aren’t able to tamp yourself back from biting into the man as soon as he’s in your sights; the only person capable of wrenching out your honest, most reflexive reactions. And you hate the ease with which this incendiary of a man manages to drag them out of you.   

“What took over you to throw that offer out at that bastard, when you all but had a nice, even playing field to yourself? Now you’re just—” Your mouth snaps shut against the rest of your words, bitterly swallowed.   

How did you even begin to disentangle your bunched feelings on the matter? You knew how all of Lungtang chanted the tales of the fearsome Onychinus head. A conundrum of a man with a reputation as daunting as his influential mien, one that never failed to instil the fear of God in lesser men; criminals and bandits, who sought to rob their small town on the rare luckless occasion — dubbed this obscure town’s own Warrior God.   

But to you, he was also just Sylus; the man you’d grown in close proximity to since your late teenage years and a person you’d grown to care for in the natural course of your odd tug-and-push relationship.   

And though you remained constantly wary of the type of people Sylus associated with, in his particular line of work — a job you did not wish for, to bring even a modicum of harm onto your family by association with him, you could not help the restless agitation that needled at you each time Sylus left home, sometimes for weeks on end, on any number of his covert expeditions.  

And each time he did, the very nagging, unwelcome thought intruded, that perhaps this time he might not make it home.   

“Are you worried for me right now, kitten?” Sylus’s airy query breaks through your reverie, your gaze leaping to find his, fixated firm on you. Those scarlet eyes seem to lose part of their mirth at the face you’re sure you’re pulling.   

You tear your gaze away first, choosing to watch the path you two trek on, instead. “Of course, I’m worried. What a silly thing to ask.” A muted wisp of words.   

Ones that spark an immediate stroke of mild discomfiture at the admission; you prattle on before he can speak. “I know you’re strong, I know that. But just you against what — 13 or 14 grown men? More if that bastard intends on killing you. Anyone with half a wit and eye can see it’s a self-slaughtering mission from yards away. I don’t understand—” your indignant voice breaks, to throttle in much needed air into breath parched lungs. “I just don’t understand why you’d do that. I don’t understand you.”    

Help me figure out what you’re thinking; are the words you wish to speak but your voice refuses to assist.  

Sylus hums a low, throaty sound; in admission that he’s heard you.   

And then he opens his mouth to speak. Divulging a ‘reason’ that makes no sense to your muddled mind, simple though his words are. “That cad disrespected you.” Garnet tips your way to meet your surprised gaze. “That’s reason enough, is it not?”   

“I—”  

“Don’t fret anymore.” he continues. “I won't lose, you have my word.” Long, tapered digits brush gentle at your temple, in reassurance of your worries. “And once I’m done with that weasel, he won’t ever be capable of crawling within a mile of you, let alone dare a finger your way again.”   

The confession, sudden and honest, spurts warmth within your chest that readily clambers up your cheeks and floods down into your belly. A knot pulled tight within seeming to relax just that bit, in comfort of his words. Truly, he confounds you; this odd, beautiful man.   

You capture his fingers against yours in an insistent hold, halting him in his tracks. “You better keep your promise to me, Sylus,” you speak, meeting his gaze, firm on yours. “Do not forget the prize that’s at stake here. You'll come out of there, victorious. I won’t afford you any other options, you hear me?”   

A pleased grin edges across that beautiful mouth, skewing it wider. He angles forward, so that garnet gaze is level against yours. Flexing the catch of his digits in between yours before he’s sweeping your hand towards his parted mouth in a fleeting brush of lips against your knuckles. “If it is my victory the Lady commands, so it shall be done.” He elaborates, a mild tickled inflection to his thick baritone.   

You disregard his little jibing use of the title for this one instance; his solemn promise you know he’s sealed to you; in the gentle grip of your fingers against his, garnet that refuses to stray until you see the resolve of his vow settle within that gaze too.   

By the time your deliberately protracted journey finds its end at the arena, edging the outskirts of Lungtang, the Magistrate along with his chosen warriors are already there, positioned and waiting by the great stone pillars of the vast grounds.   

The coming fight having attracted the townspeople to turn up in droves to watch the weaselly Magistrate take on their best warrior — hordes of curious eyes you feel boring into the two of you as you make your way towards where the Magistrate awaits.   

“Here you are. Any later and I might’ve started considering you’d fled with your tail in between your legs.” The Magistrate crows out loud. “After all, my men shall soon prove how Lungtang’s criminal they so falsely worship as a hero, is more bark than bite.” The swarm of brutes — big and terrifyingly bulky — he’s brought along, laugh at their Master’s goading.   

Sylus, however, remains unperturbed. “Is that so? I can’t wait to find out,” he responds, scrubbing an insouciant hand through his hair.   

His apathetic response seems to key the Magistrate’s ire even higher, sputtering his rage at him. “Y-You absolute— you imbecile. I will crush you.” Creeping a hand forward for you now, “I’ll hold the girl with me. We might as well quicken ourselves, in preparation for when you inevitably fall and watch me claim my rightful prize.”   

You steel yourself against the touch, palm rising to curb his approach with a polite denial but your companion is swifter; large hand darting forth to curl a harsh fist against the official’s greasy wrist.   

“No.” Sylus speaks, voice a low, lethal burr you haven’t ever heard from him before. “I don’t think you will, Sire.” Whatever it is the foolish Magistrate discerns within your companion’s steady gaze, has him flinching in visible fright at the sight, sweat beading wide across his pale, swollen face.  

He wrenches his wrist from Sylus’s grip, as if scathed just as you angle a curious look up at the Onychinus head; his face an impassive mask — hardly unusual — before it breaks into the tiny quirk of a self-assured grin when he catches you watching.  

The Magistrate yelps in frustration, turning in on a ferocious heel. “D-Do not waste my time any longer than you have.” Barking the rest of his words; he heads toward the makeshift dais he’s had set up for himself at the edge of the ring. “Come onto the fields now so we can commence the match.”  

“Sylus,” you place a hand at his arm to stall. “Duck down for a moment.”   

He raises a careful brow at you and you think he’s going to refuse for a moment but then he surprises you in the wordless, compliant drop of his head close to yours. Allowing your eyes to trace his features; those familiar scarlet eyes steady against yours, the slope of his broad nose, sweeping into the bow of full, slightly scraped lips.   

You realize you trust this man and what he’s offered you, whole-heartedly. And so, you wish to extend the same sentiment, reaching for the precious beads adorning your neck — an heirloom from your late parents, your most prized possession.   

Plucking it up and over your head in between cautious digits before you reach to place it about his neck instead. Leaving part of your most priceless gift with him, just as you’ve decided to entrust him with both your Fates. “A charm,” you clarify, “for good luck. It has been my most invaluable escort and has kept me safe all these years.”   

Sylus mutely treks delicate fingers across the worn beads of the chain, grasping it in between a loose fist, in acceptance of your faith.  

“Return it to me once you’ve won.” You tell him, rapping a firm fist against the leather guard at his chest.   

Large, warm digits move to curve about yours, gripping your fist against himself. “As if I could turn down such a heartfelt request, sweetheart.” A spirited grin tugs at his features.  “I’ll bring your little treasure back to you in one piece.”   

“Good, I’ll wait for it.” You respond. “Now, go out there and show them the might of our Warrior God.”  

The Magistrate flourishes open an official scrolled document, no doubt detailing the terms of their duel as soon as Sylus shifts to take position within the field, on opposing side of the assembly of his hired goons.   

You move to occupy a place up front, to stand among the vast gathered crowd, observing the proceedings as the Magistrate clutches the scroll up into the air and begins to drone out the conditions of the fight and the prize at stake — your belly stirs in nausea — you . “The duel shall be declared closed when all members of a party have been knocked unconscious; or killed, under the rare, unfortunate circumstance.” His beady eyes rove Sylus’s way. “Any objections?”  

Sylus shrugs the question off entirely in the flex of an arm against his chest, in preparation of the duel. “Let us not waste our time debating inanity now, as you said earlier. Commence the fight.”   

The Magistrate’s face colours a foul purple — you hope he may truly burst — but all he does is spew a cold, curt, “Begin.”  

The arena hurtles into instantaneous chaos, along with the crowd’s rousing cheers and gasps of terrified delight as the Magistrate’s cronies hound Sylus all at once. Your body hunching forward on reflex to watch as the first set of blows streak straight for Sylus’s face but he ducks down with an agility, unusual to a man of his stature.   

He catches two of the oncoming blows against his palms. Jamming his fists tight about their wrists before he contorts them sideways in a dull crackle of bone. The men immediately buckle to their knees in an agony of groans, their peers stepping over their fallen companions after, to grab for their opponent who springs out of their way, as if dancing the men around, with a noose placed about their grappling bodies.  

A sharp jab comes right for Sylus’s side after, the crony tries and lands a hit against his ribs; the latter’s grasp flexing about his arm to break his momentum, wrenching him close into his body. Before Sylus jostles his elbow harsh into the man’s back.   

Two men lunge for Sylus, aiming for his blind spot; your scraped call of warning lost amidst the thunderous din of the crowds as Sylus rounds upon his assailants. Grabbing the man he has on hand, fingers fisting tight into his garb before he hurls him onto the approaching minions, with a force violent enough, the three go bowling straight into the dirt.   

The crowd’s cheer is raucous; wild as the grin that splits wide across Sylus’s face as he stretches his body tall to full length. “Come now, that’s surely not all of what you’ve got for me.” Sweat barely beginning to make itself known across the firm muscled expanse of his arms, his torso. He's hardly out of breath while his opponents gawk at him as if cornered against a rabid beast.   

Your heart thrills in unexpected, startled pleasure to witness the strange, sensuous virility to his almost savage visage as he paces forward on swift, easy steps, within the ring.   

You’d always known Sylus to hold a rich charisma compacted within that strong personality; an ability to entice all he came into contact with. A brilliant, perceptive mind along with that tacit, undeterred will; he’d brought flourishing business booming within Lungtang over his period of unofficial rule of the place. The uncrowned Onychinus King and a fearsome warrior; the first time you’d truly stood witness to what he was capable of, outside of devious negotiations, professional and unalike.   

And to know, it was for you that he stood in that place now, socking down enemies with the streak of a great, terrifying beast that had your heart skittering within your chest and your blood thrumming within your ears, alongside the adrenaline roiling through your veins. He truly was an infuriatingly perfect man.   

You joined your voice to the shouts of encouragement rolling off the townspeople, in waves for their Warrior God just as Sylus brings an opponent down to his knees with a violent sweep of his knee to his torso.   

“Enough!” You hear the squeaked, enraged bellow of the Magistrate as he watches the proceedings with an increasingly incensed face. Whipping his reddening face towards the crowd to shake a threatening fist at them. “Quiet down before I have you all thrown into the dungeons!”   

But the townsfolk refuse to relent; their cheers rising to a deafening roar as the Magistrate nearly tumbles out of his seat to thrust a trembling finger at the ring as Sylus tosses another of his men over his shoulder to taste the ground at his feet . The attendants at his side scamper towards the arena at once. A quick, urgent rush of communication seems to pass in between the attendants and Sylus’s remaining opponents. Before the servants are tossing weapons into the ring, ones the cronies lunge for as soon as they hit the field. Rising slow once more as they brandish their newly obtained unfair advantage at an unarmed Sylus.  

A great wave of shock and indignance passes over the crowd just as you push past the row of onlookers to jostle yourself to the very front. “Hey! This was not among the rules!” You shout at the Magistrate. A sentiment the rest of the crowd joins you in mirroring but all it earns you is an insouciant shrug from the bastard, shedding any remaining responsibility of hosting a fair fight against Sylus. “And the rules didn’t indicate the participants were not allowed the use of tools at their disposal either. The opposing party’s principal should’ve brought his own if he wished for one, as well.”  

“That’s not—” Your voice breaks in agonised distress just as the Magistrate turns away from you entirely to press his rotund body back into the comfort of his seat to watch his laid-out massacre once more. Son of a cur.   

“Sylus!” You try and yell for his attention amongst the horrified cries of the crowd. “ Sylus, you don’t have to fight anymore! Get out of there, now! Sylus . ”  

His gaze sweeps over the mass of spectators for that one split moment, as if foraging for yours. Until it seems to find and fixate upon you, his mouth forming slow shape over words you cannot hear but understand on instinct, “Stay right there.”  

Your heart leaps and slams violent against the back of your breastbone with the crowd’s rising screams, just as a hefty brute lunges for Sylus; a battle axe heaved high above his head to strike a killing blow.   

The first cleave of the blade, Sylus avoids, to the tumbling pummel of your frenzied nerves. The man’s fervent swings, he dodges left and right. Avoiding another enemy’s assault with a dagger aimed straight for his gut; Sylus streaks the side of his palm flat onto his wrist in a hit vicious enough, the knife goes flying out of his grasp to stick, hilt-up, useless onto the ground. Before Sylus pummels a heavy fist into the assailant’s face, plastering him down onto the ground.   

The metallic chains of a flail come streaking for him, just as he side-steps past another heavy swing of the axe, catching the iron fetters of it harsh against his wrist. He ducks close into the enemy, manoeuvring the momentum of his attack into his own advantage, to wrench the man harsh into the fist he rams straight into his gut. Tumbling him sideways into the ground, unconscious.  

The bulldozing axe wielding maniac, now in close proximity, careens straight for Sylus on a fervent bellow, sweeping a blow straight for his head. Sylus seizes his last standing opponent’s assault against the strength of a muscled forearm. Catching the brunt of the axe’s hilt at it before he shoves back on a ferocious, inhuman show of force.   

Sylus, your heart hammers, lips forming shape over the syllables of his name in urgent prayer.   

The momentum of the wide, stone blade pushed back in such violence, sends the wielder staggering back with the weight of it; Sylus turning that precious moment of weakness to his benefit as he lunges straight for his neck, seizing it within a thick fist. The core muscles of his arm, rippling with the force with which Sylus hauls him off his feet entirely to drive the man down onto the ground with a vicious snarl.   

The combatant stops moving immediately, knocked out cold on the dirt; Sylus rising slow onto his feet as he stares at the man, chest heaving with the efforts of his strenuous exertion.   

A grave’s quietude slumps across the gathered crowd for several, tense moments.   

And then shatters into raucous chaos as the Conqueror of the duel is cheered to the high heavens; Sylus’s grin, wide and daunting, as he shifts off his fallen opponent, scrubbing a large hand back through sweat soaked locks as he starts ambling over toward the edge of your side of the arena.   

And your heart — your silly little heart — soars from its place within your chest and out for him, the high of his victory, as if it were your own, throbbing brutal within your blood.   

Before you know or comprehend it, your legs are moving; pushing past the crowds of onlookers, the wooden slates of your sandals skidding at dirt, as you fly across the ring toward Sylus. Your gaze entirely filled with your brilliant warrior’s expression shifting into surprise as you hurtle into him. And Sylus — that big, beautiful man understands — catches your careening body within his embrace; your momentum, he breaks against a half-swivel about his heel. Large, warm arms come tight about your body, wordless, without a question uttered, to seclude you further into that private space; just for you both in that moment.   

Your arms stretching about the thick expanse of his neck as you hold on hard to him; Sylus’s low exhale you feel warm gently, into the crescent of your neck as he sinks into you. The people, his duel; none of it matter when you embrace him this close against you, the adrenaline of your unbound joy, his impressive triumph settling into your thundering heart, you feel pressed against him.   

His soft, heavy laughter curls pleasant into your ears. “To the victor go the spoils, I guess.” He breathes. “Although this treasure seems particularly eager on jumping into my arms herself.”   

“Of course I am.” You press yourself away from him enough to afford yourself a proper survey of his face. “Gods, you were brilliant. Thank you, Sylus.”   

His thumb brushes just beneath your eye; a slow, testing touch. His gaze simmers in unusual, unexpected gentleness that siphons the breath from your lungs. “You need never thank me for anything, sweetheart, let alone this. I do not want it.”   

Your own relief blooming into a smile, but before you can respond; an unpleasant, harsh voice fractures through the air — the Magistrate seething and raging as he makes his way over to you both, an army of guards right behind. Clearly, the man could not stomach a sore loss; rabid fire and venom within his gaze as he trudges toward you, screaming obscenities.   

“Step back for a bit, kitten.” And you obey without further prompting, granting Sylus a wide berth for whatever he plans on doing.   

He doesn’t spare a moment longer before he’s striding forward, snatching one of the Magistrate’s unconscious minions off the ground. Hoisting him high up by the scruff of his neck. The Magistrate’s steps stagger just then at Sylus’s mad display, perhaps sensing the disaster he’s called upon him.   

But it’s far too late. “Here, have a present from all of Lungtang, Sire.” Sylus tows his arm back, wide, and aims — to the scurrying cries of the Magistrate — before he violently hurls the man in hand, right at the waddling official, bowling him and half his guards over like a stack of gambling plaques.   

“Sylus.” You gasp at his insane spectacle.  

Before the corrupt, toppled lot can even think to get their bearings back, Sylus is strolling back toward you; a quick flourish of a large hand thrown over his shoulder, in signal. “Take care of them,” he instructs out loud.   

A swarm of dark clad men melt away, on his sole command, from the crowds, to pack around the Magistrate and his men, blotting their figures entirely out of your sight. “Come on.” Sylus’s voice fractures through your reverie, his frame crowding your field of vision.   

“Whe— aah!” A hefty arm swoops beneath the back of your legs, sending frantic fingers scrabbling for purchase against the strength of Sylus’s shoulders as he hoists you up against his body. “What’re you doing?” 

He flashes a devious grin up at you, completely at odds against the bewildered shock you know is wide across your face. “Time to get out of here, sweetheart,” is all he offers in response before he’s sweeping you away from the pandemonium he’s wrought and the boisterous crowd; discarding all of that well-earned glory behind.   

The throng of on-goers tapers out the farther you get on to the road winding away from the arena; curious and awed looks alike garnered your way: at your position, and at the man — the infamous Onychinus head — who strolls easy through the streets of Lungtang, in possession of the strange woman he carries snug on the crook of an arm.  

A flush creeping hot up your face the longer this spectacle goes on until Sylus’s pace — thank the Gods above — dwindles to a halt. “This should be far enough.”   

“Yes, thank you. Put me down now.” Tapping fraught fingers against his shoulders in emphasis. Sylus raises a sculpted brow at you but relents, nonetheless. He steps past the mouth of the nearest back-street, well clear of people, before he helps you down onto your feet.   

You lean a hand across his arm, taking a moment to scramble your bearings back.   

“The brief walk back has you this out of breath, huh?” You turn a half-hearted frown at his mild ribbing; the man barely having broken a sweat himself, for having carried you all the way down here.   

“I wasn’t the one who asked you to lug me the entire way, you know,” you return.   

“What can I say, sweetheart? I’m rather protective of my treasures being made to rot too long among the grime.” He gently pinches your cheek in between thick, tapered digits; voice descending to a softer baritone. “And I won, as promised.” Long, tapered fingers skim heat across the angle of your cheekbone. “So, you’ll give me a pass this once, won’t you?”  

Vivid scarlet flitters in inscrutable emotion to witness you cup careful palms about his own, as he touches you.   

“You also pulled that insane stunt with that sleaze of a magistrate at the end there. I don’t know how you plan on getting out of that one,” you point out, but there is no actual heat to your accusation.  

He exhales a half-laugh. “That’s probably long taken care of.” Stroking the fall of your hair back against your ear. “No one will come after you now.”  

You step closer to him. “You do know I’m capable of worrying about you too, right? I’m not heartless.” His mouth quirks at your peeved admission. “...You’re important to me Sylus.”  

A streak of something akin to surprise fulgurates for a moment’s notice within that garnet gaze, at your confession.   

Your fingers trek a steady path against the painted beads of your necklace dangling at his chest. “Although I do hope you’ll never pull something like this on my behalf, ever again.” He'd brought it back to you, safe and unscathed, just as he’d said — a vow made, he had honoured.   

Relief was still warm within your chest, along with the turbulence of long nursed vexing emotions, brought forth to the surface — for a man you’d known for almost half your life — by the day’s sequence of events. “I don’t think my heart could handle it.” You huff out a soft laugh.   

An inscrutable emotion streaks across Sylus’s face, too quick to pick apart until it retreats entirely once more.   

“Unfortunately for you,” long, tapered digits sweep about yours at his chest, capturing your hand steady within his grip. “that’s not a pledge I can offer you.” His whisper is low, throaty as it settles against you and you realize the sudden proximity of your positions.   

His striking face is all that floods your vision. His gaze flickers from yours, down toward the bow of your parted lips — a remiss on his part, you can tell from how it rolls back swift to catch your eyes once more. If you did not know any better, you might’ve almost thought he meant to lean further and—  

But was it really the mad conjuring of your mind and a reluctantly hopeful heart that wished to see what it thought it did? Or had you been this obtuse on purpose all along?   

Your brow knits in consternation; this far removed from the persistent babbling of voices — your anxieties, the people, his duel, your uncertain fates at the time — and sequestered within the quiet alley; your roiling thoughts are loud and insistent.   

“And why’s that, Sylus?” You ask quietly.  

The skewed pull of his mouth is devastatingly beautiful even in its lack of mirth, this up close. “I think you know the answer to that, sweetheart. Or are you going to pretend otherwise?” His thumb strokes its gentle path across your knuckles — lighting an incendiary course — your hand still placed firm at his chest. “Whatever your choice, however, know it has always been yours to make.”  

The muted, steady beats of his heart beneath your palm seem to thrum past the sensitive pads of your digits as they skim a line past his pectorals, and up your body, warming it from the inside out.   

You swallow against the surge of a nervous fever that takes you all at once; ploughing past that pluck of anxiety at your chest, to bet your entirety on the one gamble you’re about to make.   

“Come to think of it.” Pink tongue slinks past a mouth parched, to trek a slow path across your bottom lip, end to end; the intolerable burning intensity of Sylus’s scarlet gaze scouring each single motion, sending your light-headedness thrumming higher. “You haven’t truly won yet, have you, Sylus?”   

“What?” He exhales heavily. His breathing has quickened just a snick higher, you notice, underneath your feathering ministrations. You’re fascinated by how he sounds much short of breath in this one instant than he did throughout the entirety of that match. The fact sending a deluge of warm pride and desire threading through your heart.   

“A winner is only one when he has been crowned as such, and received his dues.” You clarify, shifting closer against him.   

Stretching up on the balls of your feet until you’re a mere hair’s breadth from his face. “You however, have yet to claim your prize.” Sweeping forward until your lips are skimming against his in a tentative, testing brush of kiss — your hammering thoughts of uncertainty, of whether he wants this too, swiped clean with the soft, guttural choke of sound that slips past Sylus’s lips at your brazen initiative. And before you can bask under the simmering warmth of what that sound does to you, Sylus is curving a large palm firm within the thread of your locks, wrenching your mouth back against his in a bruising, fervid kiss.  

Eager fingers skitter at the strength of his shoulders to ground yourself against the sudden, pleasurable onslaught just as he captures your waist within the ironed grip of an arm. Almost lifting you up entirely against him until you’re suspended barely at the tips of your toes.   

His grunts are warm against the inside of your mouth as his tongue skims past the easy access of your parted lips to taste you against himself. The wet muscle sliding against yours before he sucks it into his own mouth on an approving groan of desire.   

You're nearly nerveless by the time he parts from you on a wet stretch of sound, barely enough distance, his breath cascades hot against your damp lips with each guttural word, keying you higher. “This is getting a bit too dangerous, kitten. I suggest we stop here if you don’t wish to reach a point of no-return.”  

“No. No,” Your hands flit in fervent frenzy from the stretch of his shoulders to bunch into the thick silver weave of his hair. “We don’t ever need to stop. I want this, I want you, if you do too.” Your mouth descending back against his in the dizzy crush of lips and tongue, Sylus’s groans of pleasure you drink down against your own moan.  

“There hasn’t been a single moment where I haven’t desired you, sweetheart.” He whispers in harsh breaths into the pocket of space you allow him in between your kisses. “You’re the one who said it now. So, brace yourself.”   

A hand you skim down the thick length of his neck, grazing at the base of his hair to support yourself against the large arms that cage your waist to lift until he’s driving you both back against the wall of the narrow alleyway, shrouding you deeper into shadows.   

His kiss of gentle affection skids past the cut of your cheek, so at odds against the fierce brunt of his arousal you feel grinding into your belly. You buck against the touch just as Sylus eases you down, only enough you’re on your feet now; bodies still moulded tight against the shape of each other.   

His mouth continues its work of feathering kisses across the curve of your cheek, down the delicate line of your jaw. His hips stroking against yours in gentle motions, sending the roll of his hard length against your stomach each time he guides you against himself, having you squirm in roiling pleasure, helpless against the insistence of his mouth and pelvis. Meeting his body with yours in the reflexive buck of your hips against his.   

The elongated stretch of your skirt, sending a mild frisson of frustration through your nerves to feel the restriction of your movements against his. Groaning in soft defeat against Sylus’s mouth over yours, just as he cups a large hand about the angle of your pelvis. Caressing past the flare of your behind, rucking up the fabric within a tight fist to slide it, far too slow, up your legs.   

A final brush of temporary farewell he kisses against your drenched lips before he descends, unhurried, down the length of your body; scarlet gaze refusing to relent from yours for even a single measured moment of mercy. A thick palm he traces, appreciative, down the curves of you as he pitches on to his knees.   

Thumb warming its touch against the edge of a knee, your skirts bunched at the hand fastened about your leg as it caresses a slow, sensual path up higher. The glorious sight he is, down on his knees in between the willing split of your legs; undoing in its entirety — you shudder at the devastation he brings upon you when his fingers hone their target upon the cloth of your underwear at your hip. Skating a delicate path against the knot of it before his index slips underneath it to tug undone.   

Wresting your underwear away entirely on his next sharp tug before he sweeps the mortifyingly damp cloth away from your body and under his nose for a long, obscene inhale. “You smell sweet, kitten. So much of this pretty nectar, all for me... I admit I’m more than a little flattered.” The skew of his devious smirk pulls wider at your choked sound of pleasure to witness him swipe your underwear down against his back, and pocket into the satchel at his belt.   

“Sylus,” you reprimand half-heartedly, in distressed urgency.   

“The victor takes it all, does he not? These are my spoils to have now, kitten.” His large palms are back at the skin of your legs, skimming a dizzying, scorching path up the quiver of your thighs. “Just as you are, the treasure I snatched for myself.”  

“Let me indulge in my private feast, quietly now.” He baits in heated whispers, jaw falling open as he disappears in between the heavy folds of your skirt and — Heaven help you — the sound that scrapes raw past your throat to feel the tease of his broad tongue against your drenched slit, is unlike any you’ve ever heard before. The high-pitched squeal you cut off in the hasty wrench of your bottom lip into your mouth, heated desire clouding your swimming vision to tamp down your moans of arousal, lest any passers-by, just a few feet away from your shadowed alcove, spot the indecency of your display.   

Thoughts drifting into emptiness — musing absent at how self-conscious you’d been while Sylus had carried you within his arms all the way out here; fully clothed then. And yet, here you were now, with your skirts bunched high up against your pelvis with that very same man’s wonderful tongue shoved deep inside you.  

The hot pads of Sylus’s index and middle you feel skim against the tight bead of pleasure at your apex, just as the point of his tongue seeps in at your entrance, sending your hips stuttering into his steeled grip, fast at your pelvis.   

You clamp a palm shut tight against your tapering moans, unable to smother them within yourself any longer. The heated plumes of your own breath crowding back against you with each shivered moan Sylus forces out of you.  

His mouth brushes about the length of your folds, the bow of his upper lip bumping gentle at your tight bundle of nerves. Before he closes it within the searing heat of his mouth, sucking at your increasingly swollen flesh.   

Sylus draws at the drenched slick of you like a man intent on devouring you whole, the thought drives your pleasure higher along with the rising euphoria bubbling within your body. A curious thumb parts your inner folds wider to admit the broad of his tongue deep into your slit. Your walls spasming against the breach of it as your hips judder down against the strength of his jaw.  

“You’re close, aren’t you sweetheart? You can keep up a little longer.” His smothered encouragement, the vibrations of his thick voice right against your slit send you tumbling higher upon that precipice of sweet release.   

The added, ruinous excitement of not being able to see him past the abundant frill of your skirts blazes you higher; the sole nervous anticipation of not knowing where he’d touch you next has you gushing on his tongue.   

A low, soft curse you hear spill guttural against your folds, vibrating straight up into your womb, “You’re practically weeping on my tongue, sweetheart. I like that.” Your answering moan you bury into a bite of your sleeve as you fold your arm about your face; a full body quiver long having taken you. You no longer hold control over yourself. “Grind down on my face, relax yourself. Yes, there’s my good girl now.”  

The praise having your walls grip hard at the fingers he’s worked into you now. Propelling them at an indolent, maddening pace into your depths.  

“Sylus,” you pant harshly, mind numbing into a crescendo. “I don’t — hah — can’t — much longer.” Begging for a release so, so close at hand.  

“Then don’t . Let yourself go.” His groans muted against the wet heat of you. “I’ll catch you when you fall.”   

The crook of his middle and ring fingers up into you has you spasming against the intrusive stretch of them. Opening you up deeper; the deft pads of them scrounge up a spot against your frontal walls that has your mouth flying open on a silent scream, head falling back against the unyielding brick of the alley as your fluttering insides clamp down violent against his adroit handling of you. “Right here, is it?” You think you hear his muted whispers spill throaty against the sensitive expanse of your thigh.   

Right at the junction of your hip as Sylus sinks a bite into the pliant flesh just as his thick fingers rub up against that same weak spot inside to have you disintegrating into senselessness right above him.  

You can’t fathom how he’s brought you to such complete devastation in just a few, nimble strokes of his tongue and fingers into you, against you. Never having been dragged this fast or good to the precipice by your own hand, let alone another’s. He’s away each layer of defence, piece by excruciating piece, having worked you open so thoroughly as if he knew your body like his own.  

Truly a man that sought relentless victory even in between the fall of your legs.   

And it is only when that pleasure point is one keyed far too high, with the incessant press of his third finger up into your walls, stretching you open — so incredibly full of just his digits alone — does your body fall. No longer capable of protecting yourself against the battering deluge of a release so consuming, your knees buckle underneath the hefty intensity of his ministrations.   

Sylus’s large hand, you feel warm about your rump, to curve its easy support about it, as he presses his face further into you. Waves upon waves of pleasure, drowning your keening cries against your well-abused bottom lip. A faint frisson of overstimulation stringing you higher to gain enough conscious thought back to catch his low, guttural growl searing harsh at your drenched folds, at the sensation of you gushing all over his tongue.  

You quiver in nerveless arousal to feel the fleeting brush of his kiss farewell against your slit before he rises, slow, onto his feet once more. Your body clenches in on instinctual need to catch sight of his face once more. The slick that glimmers obscenely copious across his mouth and down the strength of his jaw, the untamed, almost bestial intensity to that barely tamped heat within scarlet, as Sylus sweeps a careful thumb against your wetness has you unfurling trembling digits forward to snag around his neck, dragging him down against yourself.  

Consuming the ferocity of his kiss just as eagerly in the tongue you lap at his lips, slipping along the angle of his jaw; moaning softly at the taste of you that clings still to him. Restless fingers steal in between your bodies to reach for the arousal that strains delectable and intimidating against his trousers.  

Flittering your digits about the catch of them as you work them open enough along with the thick fingers that aid you to release him free for your hungry gaze. Your audible gasp of pleasure Sylus captures against the pad of his thumb edging just past the part of your lips.  

He’s incredibly blessed, bigger, girthier than any you’ve ever had before. The prospect of taking that thing inside your body simultaneously terrifies and excites you.  

Your dazed musings Sylus fractures in the cup of your jaw in between firm, gentle digits. “Nervous?”   

“...A bit,” you admit. Adding for good measure, “Nothing I can’t handle, though.”  An expectant hand you move to curve about the breadth of him to make your point — fingers barely able to cup entirely about him.  

Sylus’s laughter is a low, heavy burst of sound. “Don’t worry, kitten.” He reaches down to join his fingers against yours in languidly stroking the length of him. Coasting in close to your ear as he lays a kiss of dark, hoarse promise against it, “I’ll teach you to do more than just handle it.”  

Your pleased moan you throttle against his quick, vehement kiss as Sylus gathers the folds of your skirt up to bunch about your hips. Fitting himself into the space he makes, his arousal glancing hot against your outer labia; feeling him so close to where your body clenches in on tense anticipation.   

He withdraws from you on a wet slip of tongue, seizing your gaze within his. The firm fist he strokes at his length guiding the flared, slick head of him against your folds to lubricate in your wetness, bumping pleasant at your sensitive bead of nerves on each indolent stroke.  

You buck your hips up against his in an impatient scratch of throaty sound. Slipping the head of him so close against your slit, it almost makes you dizzy with need.  

You are not, however, prepared truly for the actual breach of him as he splits you open in pleasure so blinding, it streaks right against your tender bead and up deep into your belly. Sylus’s guttural groans brand hot against the crescent of your neck in overwhelmed desire, a muted swear swallowed into the bite of teeth he presses into it. “Relax yourself a little, kitten, you’ve gone too tight on me.”  

You try, you truly do as you smother past your burning need to scream, for breaths to claw into your lungs; he feels too much, too good all at once, your body incapable of doing much else except accepting the slow propulsion of him deeper into your walls.

He feels almost too much for you to handle, spearing you open so far around him you didn’t even think yourself capable of such a feat. And yet, the copious arousal that slicks in between your bodies, with the voracious clench of your walls around the hard strength of him, sucking him inside, speaks volumes. Of how you’re thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being impaled upon his length.  

“More,” you pant; the slow thrusts of his hips up into yours sending your lashes flittering shut, in overwhelming euphoria and need. “I need more, Sylus.”  

He grunts in acknowledgment, large hands fixing hot fetters of flesh against either side of your pelvis as he thrusts into you, each swollen stroke of his arousal sending him impossibly deep, until you feel it may truly reach your womb.  

Sylus heaves himself closer into you, nearly pinning you against the wall with the sheer strength of his towering body, the heavy pumping of his hips into you, sending euphoria skating through your veins. Intoxicated on feeling the way he moves within you.  

A hand drifts up from your hip to grip at the flare of your waist beneath cloth as Sylus manoeuvres your body to thrust into you at an angle that drives him hard against your swollen spot of pleasure inside.   

Your hands fly in agonized frenzy to clutch at his arms, his shoulders as you grapple with the blinding pleasure he’s carving into your body. His head skews downward to catch the sensitive flesh of your neck in between the bite of restive teeth, a low moan wrenched free of your throat. His mouth strokes down the length of your skin until he teeths at the fastenings of your collar, wrenching violent at the buttons before he scatters them apart. Mouth engulfing the exposed slope of your clavicle in fervid groans.  

Your fingers skitter for purchase into the silver brush of hair at the base of his neck, tugging harsh with his increasingly heavy pace. A low whine clambering past your throat when his grip upon your body tightens once more in purpose, dragging his length to the near tip of him before he rams back into you on a guttural snarl so primal, it has you violently spasming about his thick shaft, your vision blanking in for a moment.  

Sylus’s face is a flood of savage bliss and heated concentration — the sight along with his pleasurably punishing thrusts into your walls — has your heart nearly trying to rip past the bruising beat of it at your breastbone. Hips meeting his in stuttering thrusts as your body bows up, sharp, toward him to chase a height of euphoria so in sight.  

“You’re moaning so loud, kitten.” His throaty chuckle stirs weighty into your belly. “Keep that up and you’ll draw us an audience.” Gnawing weakly at your bottom lip to instinctively tamp your sounds just as Sylus moves to drive into you on a particularly ruinous, deliberate thrust that has your legs buckling entirely underneath you.   

But he’s there to catch you, thick forearms cording about the feeble, trembling plush of your thighs before he hoists you up entirely onto him; his hushed chuckle drifting into guttural laughter. “Why try being quiet on your own when you can just make use what you have at your disposal?” His lips drive against yours in a vehement kiss of teeth and tongue, devouring you, just the way he is in between your legs. You let yourself go at last, moaning unabated into the searing warmth of his mouth, Sylus’s pace turning to near-frenzied rutting, with the sounds he wrenches from your bruised throat.  

He forces you deeper against the wall, spearing you helpless in between the cool stone at your back and the unforgiving intensity of his drilling thrusts pillaging your body. Golden deep pleasure roiling pleasant just beneath your skin, to push at the confines, until you feel like you could float out of it heavenward and never return to the ground.  

Your fevered gaze snags against the painted beads of your gifted charm about his neck, swinging vehement with the force of his propulsions. Drifting absent fingers against the worn orbs of the necklace, mushed mind admiring how truly lovely he looks like this for you; coupled along with that tight knit of concentrated pleasure, it makes you believe he truly is all yours to have. As if he belongs to you, with you.   

That sole, deranged thought sending arousal thrumming within, so blinding, your body quivers into the tight curve of a crescent, pressing hard against his chest, a peak so close, you can feel it stirring vicious into your belly. “You’re all mine to have, aren’t you? My great warrior,” you gasp against his mouth, trembling fingers sweeping for the broad strength of his shoulders as your nails drive in, harsh.

Sylus’s response; groaned heavy against your tongue, without hesitation. “You’ve always had me in my entirety, sweetheart.”  

Your body has wholly given up — a leaden weight — within his grasp, held together only by the strength of Sylus’s arms curving steeled grips about your thighs. Pounding into you with each fervid roll of his hips slapping against the back of your thighs — the profuse flow of your arousal sweltering in between your already burning bodies, the obscene squelch of it each time he withdraws from your walls only to drive back in with savage, terrifying accuracy, rutting himself so good against the spot inside that has you quivering uncontrollably around the length of him.  

Your combined sultry symphony so loud within your ears, drumming along with the thundering of your heart, you’re sure any passers-by crossing the mouth of the alley would be able to hear. Your cotton-fed mind so far gone, however, you’re no longer coherent enough to care about anyone hearing your claims upon each other’s bodies. So deeply entrenched in the sole existence of Sylus: his body, tongue, his bruising grip upon you, you love so much — scoring stinging crescents as your own signs of victory, across the broad strength of his shoulders, down the firm muscle of his arms, serving to drive him only harder into you until he’s knocking half-screams out of your throat. Swallowing them up against the hungry sweep of his tongue.  

Sylus’s thrusts into your body have turned erratic, his guttural moans heating your skin into a blazing furnace. You’re so close to release, you can feel the heavy crest of its deluge approaching — golden and ruinous.  

His grip upon the flare of your hip shifts, pressing you impossibly deeper against him, the new angle driving the length of him against your sensitive bundle of nerves on each hammering thrust. “A-Almost—” Gasping a breathless warning.  

Hurtling you so high; the frenzied pump of his hips into yours, the constant stimulation at your swollen bead sending your walls spasming so violent, you feel Sylus loose a long, guttural groan deep into your mouth. You tumble off the precipice of release just as you feel the first thick spurts of his seed searing fire against your sensitized walls; Sylus’s sultry growls keying your frenzied release so high your fingers scrape across the back of his neck to tug him harsh against your mouth. Sinking your quivering, heated desires into a vehement bite at his chest, Sylus’s digits weaving tight into your hair at the back of your head, to hold you there.  

His thundering pulse you moan against in appreciation, laving absent to soothe the reddening bite at his skin, as your body convulses with the still flowing spurts of his release, stroking at the intoxicating fever of your prolonged orgasm, filling you to the brim and over; the warmth of it you feel drip past your folds and onto his sturdy thighs.  

Taking several, long much needed moments to compose yourself as your sweat-slick face falls, nerveless, to press your cheek against the damp expanse of his chest, body still suspended firm upon the corded strength of his arms, his cock nestled snug and thick within you.  

You claw a much-needed gulp of air past a throat, long sore. “...I fear you may have to carry me here on out, as well, Sylus, because I certainly can’t move an inch right now.”  

His amused chuckle drifts warm against the top of your head. “While joined together just like this?” He teases softly. “You may truly pass out of sheer embarrassment this time if I do, kitten.”  

“Doesn’t matter,” you quip right back, half-hearted, canting a languid gaze up his way. “I think I’ll be long knocked out before any pesky shame kicks in, from how good this — you were.”  

You feel Sylus’s length twitch within your walls at your words, groaning quietly at the growing strain of his arousal, back to half-mast already. Truly, was there a limit to the man’s enduring stores of stamina?  

But perhaps, the real question was of your own insatiable appetite too, when it came to him, as you were only newly discovering — your wrecked body responding in the muted burn of arousal, kindling into slow fire within your belly, clenching weakly at him.  

“Tell you what, sweetheart.” Sylus’s skewed grin tucks against your ear as he nuzzles at your cheek.  “I’ll carry you out of here in my arms, as you wish, without the additional parade of our naked bodies. In return,” A kiss he feathers, against the angle of your cheekbone. “Come home with me.”  He asks of you, softly.

You bury your approval in the nudge of your nose against him, catching his lips against yours in a gentle, chaste kiss, “Sounds like a done deal to me, my handsome warrior.”  

End Notes: Thank you for reading! This was a very fun indulgence and I hope everyone who bagged Sylus’ card enjoyed his soft card story.

Tagging as requested: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @bitches4lifebro , @beebumbo , @hellinistical , @dangerousluv1 , @webmvie , @Cas-tiel13 , @aria-tempest , @raendarkfaerie , @lamentinee , @unhingedsillygod , @tiredas , @ladyparamount

If you have not been tagged, it’s because I can’t tag you due to tagging permissions turned off on your end.

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM!

You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to chat or just squeal with me about hot characters, in general.

[star-my]

BTS Fic Recs ☆ Tumblr (i)

These are all available on tumblr as of April 2024. Some are likely crossposted on ao3 as well.

~Ao3 RECS HERE~ ~Recs (ii)~ ~Recs (iii)~

Almost all are complete works, those with “+” after WC are incomplete. Most are BTS x (F!)Reader.

Most of these are Mature or Explicit (usually because of smut) ~ mdni ~ italicized titles rated G or T ~ Please read responsibly

If any authors tagged here wish to be removed/untagged, please lmk! | Shoutout to @ggukkiereads who does an amazing job creating rec lists, which helped me find many of these fics

F2L = friends to lovers ; E2L = enemies to lovers ; FE2L = frenemies to lovers ; R2L = rivals to lovers ; BFB = best friend's brother ; BBF = brother's best friend etc

OT7/Multi

☆ BTS Reactions by @dreamescapeswriting | SFW + NSFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @btsjfans | SFW + NSFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @bulletproofwhalien | NSFW + SFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @salvejoon | SFW + NSFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @sunshine-and-bangtan | SFW + NSFW |

☆ Desperado Series by @heartbeatan | Mafia AU | PJM, JJK, KTH (in progress) | 60-160k(+) each

☆ The Company series by @btsmakesmehappy | Agent AU | 25-37k(+) each (in progress)

☆ Mafia BTS Reactions by @ninetailedfoxmanchi | Mafia AU (+Yandere AU) |

☆ #CodeBTS series by @yminie | Mafia AU | 1-12k each

Kim Namjoon

☆ The Ghost in Apartment 1403 series by @notsoguiltykpop | Ghost AU, Supernatural AU, Roommate AU? | ?k

☆ beauty & the bookworm by @jungshookz | E2L Library AU, Uni AU | 20k

☆ la vie en bonsai by @jungshookz | S2F2L Neighbours AU, Baker AU | 38k

☆ The Seven Nights series by @theunknowncryptid | SMAU, Mafia AU | 13k

☆ real magic by @heretobbtstrash | S2F2L Single Parent AU, Coffee Shop AU, Coworkers AU | 17k

Kim Seokjin

☆ {Unavailable}

Min Yoongi

☆ Take One by @untaemedqueen | Pornstar AU | 24k

☆ The Deal series by @untaemedqueen | Mafia AU | ?k

☆ suit & tie by @jungshookz | CEO AU, Office AU, Coworkers AU, PA AU | 21k + drabbles

☆ hellish by @jungshookz | E2L Demon AU, Roommate AU | 22k

☆ strike a chord by @snackhobi | S2L Pianist AU, Bar AU | 16k

☆ straight shooter by @snackhobi | F2L/E2L Cyberpunk AU, Dystopian AU | 14k

☆ devil with the mint hair series by @theharrowing | E2FWB Brother's BFF AU, Stoner AU | 11k+

☆ a wager of lords and love by @hisunshiine | S2L Historical AU, Arranged Marriage AU | 7k

☆ daechwita by @chemicalpink | Daechwita AU, Assassin AU | 10k

☆ stay by @luffles424 | Daechwita AU, Assassin AU | 3k

☆ daechwita by @se0kie | Daechwita AU | 4k

☆ make me proud by @moonscriptsx | Established Relationship AU, Canon Idol-verse | 6k

☆ by its cover by @kittae | S2L Cat Dad AU | 2k

☆ misfortunately, yours by @sor-vette | S2F2L Dark Fae AU, Dark Fantasy AU | 32k

☆ mixtape by @jungblue | F2L Uni AU, Radio AU | 15k

☆ cyberslut by @kimnjss | SMAU, Uni AU, Fboy AU | ?k

☆ alive aha fxck by @softyoongiionly | F2L Neighbours AU, Vampire AU | 43k

☆ a brew of wings by @inkedtae | S2F2L Dragon AU, Witch AU | 10k

☆ fury of their scales by @kpopisthereasonihavenolife | Dragon AU | 18k

☆ inheritance series by @jincherie | Hybrid AU | 21k

☆ tuxedo series by @whatifyoulivelikethat | Cat(-shifter?) AU, Roommates AU | ft JJK | 49k+

☆ Assuage series by @btsqualityy | Omegaverse AU, Werewolf AU | ?k

☆ show by @httpjeon | Pw/oP ft BTS | 2k

☆ drip by @here2bbtstrash | Pw/oP | 5k

Jung Hoseok

☆ midnight confessions by @snackhobi | BFF2L Coworkers AU, Office AU, Buzzfeed Unsolved AU | 27k

☆ the bride of ashmedai by @jeonggukingdom | Demon AU, Arranged Marriage AU | 13k

Park Jimin

☆ The Bird Cage series + The Lion's Den series by @untaemedqueen | S2L Mafia AU | ?k

☆ Set It Off series by @btsqualityy | Mafia AU | ?k

☆ the hunt by @httpjeon | Shifter AU, Fantasy AU | 8k

☆ lovebug by @httpjeon | Hybrid AU | 12k

Kim Taehyung

☆ Pied Piper by @untaemedqueen | Mafia AU, Established Relationship AU | 10k

☆ maybe i do series by @chateautae | Arranged Marriage AU, Chaebol AU, CEO AU | 410k + drabbles

☆ kinda hot by @kimnjss | BFF2L SMAU, Uni AU, Fboy AU | ?k

☆ nip it in the bud by @opaljm | Brother's BFF AU, Piercing AU | 10k

☆ heatwave series by @curly-bangtan | F2L Roommate AU | 12k

☆ under the covers by @jessikahathaway | Agent AU | 23k

Jeon Jungkook

☆ heavy lifting by @snackhobi | Coworkers AU | 13k

☆ Miss Vagabond by @bubblesuga | F2L Gamer AU | 8k

☆ blizzard by @curly-bangtan | S2L Roommates AU | 16k

☆ Sparkle by @btsmosphere | F2L Roommates AU | 3k

☆ Hands-On Learning series by @ladyartemesia | Uni AU | 5k

☆ kiss it better by @jincherie | Uni AU, Sports AU, Cheer AU | 12k

☆ ghosts just wanna have fun by @sugaxjpg | Ghost AU, Supernatural AU, Uni AU | ft MYG + KTH | 20k

☆ tell me your secrets (i'm all ears) by @jinpire | Uni AU, Hybrid AU | 7k

☆ under the bridge by @jincherie | Hybrid AU | 11k

☆ Swipe right by @ppersonna | BFF2L Tinder AU | 9k

☆ overtime by @cupofteaguk | CEO AU, Office AU, PA AU, Coworkers AU | 12k

☆ I won't stop you series by @imsarabum | Vampire AU, Fantasy AU, Office AU, Coworkers AU, CEO AU, PA AU | ?k

☆ life eternal by @jungkookiebus | Fae AU | 9k

☆ hotter than hell series by @chateautae | Demon AU | 136k

☆ Hellblazer series by @jungkookiebus | Demon AU, Constantine AU | ?k

☆ agent of love series by @ppersonna | SMAU, Agent AU | ?k+

☆ strawberry kisses series by @kimnjss | SMAU, Brother's BFF AU, Tinder AU | ?k

☆ drag me down (to hell) series by @kimvtae | Mafia AU, Single Parent AU | 58k (abandoned)

☆ Concealed Weapon by @gimmesumsuga | Mafia AU, Husband AU | 10k

☆ hate sex by @yeoreos | FWB Pw/oP | 4k

Overall Favourite Authors (If I recc'd all their works like I want to/more than I have, I'd have to make this series even longer >.<)

☆ @bonvoyagenoona's masterlist

☆ @chateautae's masterlist

☆ @flowerwrites06's masterlist

☆ @here2bbtstrash's masterlist

☆ @hollyhomburg's masterlist

☆ @icyhobi's masterlist

☆ @jungshookz's masterlist

☆ @justcallmenikki7's masterlist

☆ @kpopfanfictrash's masterlist

☆ @ladyartemesia's masterlist

☆ @luxekook's masterlist

☆ @magicalsalamander's masterlist

☆ @yminie's masterlist

☆ @yoonia's masterlist

[pablitogavii]

Resolved Anger

“You’re not going! End of conversation!” Pablo was practically yelling at me at this point while still getting ready himself for this stupid party.

“And you are!? Mete a la mierda Pablo!” I was sitting on his bed wearing his oversized t-shirt with eyes crossed in front of my chest.

“I’m not taking you to lions den, where every footballer will try to fuck you enana!” He said putting on his leather jacket.

“You’re the only footballer who can fuck me then huh cabrón!?” I said angrily while he smirked nodding his head and leaning in closer.

“Dame un beso..” he said demanding it more than asking for it and I felt a shiver move down my spine.

He always claimed to be my “protective friend” but it’s a load of crap since every time we are close like this, he ends up between my legs..

“You know how footballers are hijo..keep them away from her” my dad said and Pablo squeezed my thigh underneath the dinner table.

“Te lo prometo” Pablo answered while I tried my best to control my breathing.

“Ya enana!” he was impatient and I sighed touching his face and pecking his lips with a pout..maybe this makes him let me go to the damn party!

“Take..me..with..you” I said between each kiss and he smirked rubbing our noses together.

“No y basta!” He said and I signed pulling away from him which made him roll his beautiful brown eyes at me. Idiot!

He was done getting ready adding that addicting perfume before walking up to be curled up in bed.

“Besito before I leave bombocito?” He said moving behind me but I was in no mood and he could tell.

“Estás enojada conmigo huh?” He said touching my arm and turning me to lay in my back so I can see him.

“Si..” I answer quietly because whenever he was hovering above me like this, it becomes hard to breathe.

“Hmm and if I give you your mimitos before bed?” He said and I felt my own excitement rise..I always loved when he would cuddle and kiss me to sleep.

I just nodded shyly and he leaned in leaving kisses on my neck pulling me on top of him while laying down on the bed.

“Vale, veni aquí cari” he said and I moved pulling on his jacket and he took it off to make me more comfortable. I nuzzled my face into his neck and he was playing with my hair.

“Que haces conmigo? Hm?” He said moving my hair back and looking down at my face with a smile. That damn smile..

“No te vayas..” I said sadly and he signed kissing the top of my head softly. It wasn’t that I wanted to go to that party so much that I knew girls would be hitting on Pablo like always

“Sleep..and I’ll be back quick” he said but that only made me grumpier. I tried pulling away but he wouldn’t let me and I couldn’t fight his strong muscular arms.

“Que tengas huh? You really wanna go that badly?” He said wrapping a strand of my hair around his finger and I shook my head.

“They will steal you from me..” I said and he smiled pulling you in and kissing your forehead.

“Tan preciosa..” he said and I sighed shrugging my shoulders while he moved on top of me.

“How do you think I feel when you mingle around footballers..” he said and I giggled..I knew Pablo was jealous and I loved him for it.

“Only one is on top of me every night..” I said and he smirked proudly kissing my lips and enjoying the ways my fingers played with his hair.

“Hmm estás mala..muy mala amor” he groaned when I started to scratch his back as he caught my lips kissing them passionately.

Then his phone rang..what a incredible timing boys have!!!

“Hola? Ah si, hermano..estoy list..oooh” he didn’t expect my lips sucking ontoo his neck as he gave me a warning look that made me smirk in amusement.

“Basta enana!” He said but I kept leaving hickeys all over his skin while Balde was talking about the plans for the night.

“Si que estoy escuchando cabrón!” He said while I laughed knowing he wasn’t paying attention to anything but how I made him feel now.

“Bueno! I’ll see you later Balde!” Gavi got off the call when I started kissing down his chest and unbuttoning his shirt.

“Que haces mi vida?” He said and I smirked leaving a trail off kisses and giving every one of his abs special attention.

“Making you stay with me..” I whisper seeing his jaw clenching.

“How am I doing papi??” I stopped looking up at him with arms behind his head and his eyes closed. Clearly he was very into it..

“Keep convincing me princesa..” he said and our eyes met as he held my cheeks and kissed my lips.

“J..joderrr” he groaned as I undid his shorts and started sucking him off needy for more.

“Ahhh princesa..mía..tan buena” he was playing with my hair taking off the rest of his clothes and pulling down by my legs to get on top.

“Im destroying your pussy tonight!” He sounded so angry and hot that I already had pool between my legs.

“Do it papii. I’m all yours “ I moaned making him smirk proudly.

“This was your plan all along .. huh traviesa!?” He was pounding his cock into me making my mind go blank.

“Yes! Please don’t go..just fuck me all night instead” I begged making him twist me on my stomach and get behind.

[hansensgirl]

summary. | The family vacation your boyfriend’s dad planned turns out to be something much worse.

prompts. | Andy Barber + Boyfriend’s Dad + “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” + Cheating, requested by @vellicore.

pairing. | dark!boyfriend’s dad!Andy Barber x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, cheating, age gap, deceit, lying, chasing kink, pet names, andy is a pervert (he gets hard), kidnapping/captivity?, jacob is aged up, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics

Jacob wasn’t here again, and this time, you really hated him for it. 

You should’ve known better after that long drive upstate, the lack of other cars and the monstrosity of the Barber family’s cabin. Your boyfriend insisted you drive up ahead of him, making up some excuse about privacy and taking your time to enjoy the scenery. It was nothing but a gloomy, rainy day the entire time. 

Andy was the only one there, and though he said Laurie would be coming up soon, you doubted him. Especially as he chases you through the house, desperate to take something he claims is his. You. 

You pant as you feel a cramp developing in your stomach, slowing you. You never thought a vacation home could be this large, but then again, you never thought your boyfriend’s father would be such a monstrous being. 

“Honey?” Andy calls out, voice sickeningly sweet. It makes you nauseous the way he refers to you so kindly despite his cruel intentions. He already got halfway there, as you’re only wearing your panties and a t-shirt. He caught you off guard, but you know you can’t let that happen again.

You groan as you shake the doorknobs to the many rooms, each one locked and needing a key. You curse under your breath and spin around, not sure where to go next. The stairs are creaky, and you’d probably trip. But Andy is in the opposite direction, so you’ll have to risk it.

Your aim is to get your car keys and leave, even without your most important belongings. You’ll drive as far away as you can until you find help. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” the older man snickers, and you nearly gag. You’re thirsty and out of breath, tired and wholly terrified. “I won’t hurt you, sweetie. I promise. I’m just gonna show you how a man treats a lady,” Andy yells as you descend the stairs.

You do so carefully yet not too slowly, wary of making noise that’ll give away your location. You hope that either Laurie or Jacob will turn up, but you know that won’t happen. Fate seems to have it out for you.

You hurry to the kitchen and look for your keys. You placed them on the countertop when you arrived, but they’re not there anymore. You bite back a loud shout of frustration and pull the drawers open, searching through each of them. But you come up with nothing.

Andy must’ve hidden them—he probably had this planned, but for how long? You grow lightheaded when your strategy falls through. You don’t know what else to do. Your phone is all the way upstairs, and you’re not fearless enough to venture back to the lion’s den.

You spot the landline on the wall and rush to pick up the handset, but there's no dial tone when you hold it to your ear.

Suddenly, the phone is smacked out of your hand, and you jolt in fear. It clatters to the floor, and Andy kicks it away. 

“Stay away from me!” you yell, trying to push at him. But your boyfriend’s father is too strong. “Now, it was hot at first, sweetie, but I’m getting a bit tired,” Andy pants, grabbing you roughly. He pulls you close to his body, holding you tightly. You have no room to fight, no chance at escaping. 

You settle for your one last weapon—your voice. You cry for help loudly, and Andy groans, clapping one of his large hands over your mouth. You try to bite him, but your attempt is futile.

“You can be as loud as you want, honey. There’s no one around to hear you,” he whispers, and you know he’s telling the truth. You’re in the middle of nowhere. “But I’d much rather have you screaming when I’m fucking you,” Andy chuckles, and tears sting your eyes.

“What about your wife? And Jacob?” you ask him when he pulls his hand away. “Who cares, sweetie? It’s just you and me now,” Andy hums, and though he appears to be gazing down at you lovingly, you can see the darkness—the longing and lust—in his eyes. You thought he was different from his father and son, but who were you kidding?

The older man grinds his cock against your ass, letting you feel what you do to him. Andy presses kisses along your neck, and his grip on you doesn’t loosen one bit. You let yourself go slack in his hold, wishing your boyfriend could help, but you know he doesn’t care. He never has—but Andy always will. 

[theunknownmasks]

"I don't recall harming Mana? But.. i wasn't me back then...if you mean the wars." He sighed looking away. "Do..you..really love me after all that.." He tone softer - hopeful. He needed to be reassured this wasnt just a dream that Atem wanted to be with him.

Atem knew things had been...intense between them always however, one thing he appreciated more than anything was the fact that they could at least remain good friends. Thief had became a family friend to him. Someone he considered a trusted ally.

So to hear this question, he fell quiet before he smiled tenderly before he looked at him.

"My feelings for you never changed, Thief. However, as you know my love for my family is far stronger. I would never cheat on my wife. That would just hurt Mana more than I already have. I refuse to do anymore harm to either of you."

[honey-minded-hivemind]

I just imagined: What if there's an AU where Logan and Reader are experiments, maybe for the Weapon X scientists, maybe for something else, or for some mutant-experimenting group, and Sabretooth (a.k.a., his brother) ends up taking care of them once they've been busted out?

Let's look at it this way:

Logan has been in that place for Heaven only knows how long. He's seen sh*t, he's heard all sorts of awful things, and he's lived them. Then there's a kid thrown in with him, and suddenly he's a dad now. (Who else is going to parent this random kid/teen? The scientists? F*ck no!) So he's now trying to keep himself and this kid alive, biding his time until he finds the best opportunity for them to leave.

Reader is this random kid/teen who's been put into this program/experiment, and they've been tossed into the mess with no safety net... Until they end up with Logan, or as everyone else calls him, Wolverine. And Reader, seeing a feral, growly, possibly dangerous individual... tries to be gentle. Tries to treat him as a person. (This guy is covered in wounds and reeks of blood, and obviously needs care, and they're all in this together, aren't they?) And Reader is soon met with someone who is their protector in this H*ll they're living in, someone who'd kill for them and die for them, if the situation called for it. Too bad Reader would do the same for him...

(They become cellmates/cell-buddies. Logan, when he's not chained to the wall or floor or restrained in some way is curled around Reader. Reader tries to keep his humanity intact, and tries to maintain both of their sanities. The moment someone tried to take Reader away, Logan bit someone's arm off-)

Sabretooth comes into play when he finds out about this secret program trying to make or recapture mutant experiments, wanting soldiers or guards or weapons... And when he catches wind of a rumor, that his baby brother is in there... He decides to make it his business. And realizes he's going to have to get involved if he wants to get him out mostly intact.

Trying to act the part of a willing subject... oh, it grates on his nerves... Having to act like he's loyal, or controlled. Doing what they say when they say it. But the reward... tearing out their throats and getting his brother away from them, causing chaos, too... is too sweet, too much of a good thing, to pass up. Then he finds out his brother is attached to another subject, and suddenly he's now trying to figure out if he needs to keep them alive, too.

And what he finds... it convinces him to keep Reader alive.

They're the only good thing to his brother in this h*llscape. The only one treating him with any respect or decency. And that earns them his protection. Not to mention they're a small pup, just a cub, in a den of snakes and lions... And his brother likes them. Those are enough reasons for him to add Reader into his plan, to the list of people to break out. (If he roughs up or sets up a few jerks so they can have a taste of what they've given his runt or the cub, it's no one's business-)

And finally, the day comes and he can break them out... Except something goes horribly wrong, and he's now trying to make sure Reader is alive while struggling to keep his brother from running off with them. (Neither of them are in a position to survive alone, or to go another week without proper care and for and safety). So that leaves him with hardly any choice but to kidnap his brother and hide him and the kid where no one can get to them. They can all fight it out when they're well again, but that isn't going to be for a long time, and he does miss taking care of his brother... And he gets to care for the cub, who needs extra careful care and gentleness... So he's going to be busy for quite awhile now, isn't he?... He can't wait to get them warm and cleaned up and fed. They're just going to have to be kept very sleepy and relaxed while he works his own brand of healing and caring for them, 'kay? Just let good ol' Victor take care of everything...

(If you have any questions about this idea, please ask them!)

[blues824]

Hi! If requests are still open, ignore this if they aren't, could I request Savanaclaw with a fem! honey badger reader?

The one time I used Wikipedia lol. Reader is not Yuu, but stays in Ramshackle.

Leona Kingscholar

The first thing he noticed was that you were independent and strong. You were actually ferocious, and when you stepped on his tail in the greenhouse you were not afraid to use your long nails to scratch him to escape. But this was actually what made him attracted to you. You were a fighter, and he liked that.

You didn’t let anyone walk all over you. He’s seen the amount of times where even Jack shows up to Savanaclaw with a black eye, and he said it was because he trespassed into Ramshackle without your permission. Everyone was scared of you, but only he knew about the tunnels you dug underneath the old dormitory building. For some reason, you trusted him.

The two of you can often be found cuddling with each other in a den you made in your tunnels. It was a bit weird for Leona at first, but he knew that honey badgers typically didn’t even take on mates so this was weird for you as well. He actually liked the new level of privacy that the tunnels held for the two of you, so now no one would interrupt your naps. 

Your unique magic actually came in handy during his overblot, because you were able to dig underground and surprise attack him by jumping through the dirt and uppercutting him in the jaw. The best part was that your skin was super thick, and thus he couldn’t turn you to dust. You were practically invincible. The only vulnerability you showed was when he backhanded you in the head and you stumbled. Unfortunately, this meant that it was his target and you ended up unconscious as Yuu and the others finished him off.

In the infirmary, he woke up first. After he said hi to his nephew who was right on his chest, he looked over to see you still out. He quickly sat up, remembering all that had happened and realizing that he had the overblot entity behind him hit you hard in the head. Last time he checked, the head was the most sensitive and vulnerable spot on a honey badger. He found a nearby chair and, with a bit of struggle, moved it next to you so he could sit closer to you.

Ruggie Bucchi

You reminded him of the women back in his homeland, and you definitely scared him. Your sharp nails, your borderline mean attitude, it all intimidated him. He’s seen the first years have black eyes because they impede on your territory in Ramshackle. The only ones who have been unscathed from being in your burrow under the dormitory were himself and Yuu, and he is very honored.

It wasn’t always that way, though. When you found out that he was the one behind all of the accidents, you scratched him with your sharp claws and threatened that you would be willing to bite his ears off if he didn’t stop. He let out a whimper out of nowhere, and he sweatdropped before telling you that he would discontinue his actions.

However, now his favorite pastime is cuddling with you in your nesting burrow. There were a bunch of pillows in there, and he thought it was the perfect resting place. You told him more about honey badgers, and the fact that you were letting him in there meant you were committing to this relationship. He was, too, because he loved you a lot.

He was extremely scared for you when you were going up against Leona in his overblot, but when he started turning to dust after being touched, you were seeing red. You were throwing more hands than the lion could catch. You even landed a powerful uppercut, but it only ended up making him angrier and you being knocked unconscious by a blow to the head. Ruggie ran over, trying to get you to wake up, but you were out cold.

This man did not want to leave your side at all. He was growing worried. Maybe you suffered brain damage? However, the nurse had told him that you would be alright. He could not sleep at all, not with you still unconscious. He felt so bad, like he was guilty of doing this to you. He wishes he could take it all back, if he’s being honest.

Jack Howl

He met you when Yuu and you came to him asking for help against Leona. You sighed in pure anger when he said that he wouldn’t help. You actually reached up and pulled him down by the ear and said that he would help unless he wanted to end up like Ace Trappola. The Heartslabyul student attended class with a black eye and a bruised lip… oh.

You weren’t afraid to stand up for yourself either. Ruggie was going to try and take over your body just to make you fall down the stairs, but before Jack could stop him you took a fall. But, you got right back up and used your unique magic to go underground. No one knew where you were, but in a few seconds you burst out of the ground and slashed at the hyena’s face with your claws. Blood was drawn, and the wolf winced upon seeing his dorm-mate like that.

As much as this guy seems tough, he does like cuddling with you. His tail is a big source of warmth that you enjoy in the comfort of your nesting burrow. He actually gave you one of his blankets because it smells like him, and he once caught you sleeping with it. The sight made him super flustered, and Yuu made fun of him for being such a ‘simp’.

When Leona overblotted, Jack did not want you rushing into battle. He actually shouted your name when the Housewarden grabbed your arm, but you just twisted and wrestled and turned out fine. It was only when you landed an uppercut from bursting through the dirt below where you got hit in the head. The Savanaclaw First Year was enraged, and Ace and Deuce had to stop him from rushing in as well.

The last thing you heard was your name being shouted before you passed out. Your wolf boyfriend carried you to the infirmary, and he growled at anyone who came too close to you… even the nurse. He would have skipped out on all of his classes just to be sure that you were alright, but the other first years dragged him out and into the classrooms.

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Captain’s Whiskey

Requested: Yes [Hi!! May I please request some non-con/dub-con with John Price x fem reader]

Warnings: Non-con, Drunk!Price, violence, slapping, Reader becomes concussed, oral sex (F receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, choking (to the point of passing out), implied Somnophilia

“Stay still, Sargent.” Price grumbled in your ear, hot and heavy, smelling of that whiskey you know he likes, the kind you gifted him for his birthday the other day. Normally you didn’t mind the smell but today it felt like it was suffocating you, like you were drowning in it. It burned your lungs and made you feel all the more pitiful as your Captain ran his hands under your clothes, groping and clawing and kissing at whatever skin he could reach.

You wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to tell him to stop it, slow down, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper, strangled and quiet. You were helpless, belly down under the weight of your Captain, trapped between him and the creaked with every minor jostle, sounding like screaming when he started dry humping your thigh.

You shouldn’t have answered his summons. Not when it was the middle of the night. Not after that disaster of a mission.

You shouldn’t have stepped so far into the lion’s den when you could see the almost empty bottle of whiskey on his desk, a fully empty one shattered on the floor. Like he had thrown it in a fit of drunken rage.

“Always wanted this.” He murmured in your ear, one hand clutching tight at the collar of your t shirt while the other wrapped around your throat, rough calluses scratching at your neck, feeling like sandpaper against your skin. “Always wanted to fuck you. From the moment I saw you. So beautiful, Love.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, not dignifying his words with any kind of response, just turning your head away, burying it further into his pillow. You could hear him click his tongue but it sounded so far away, like something put on the television late at night while you were on leave, trying to drown out the voices in your head.

It never worked.

You vaguely registered him ripping at your shirt, heard it more than anything, barely registering the cold seeping into your very bones when he leaned back to work at your pants as well, leaving you splayed beneath him in only your underwear.

You closed your eyes. It would be over soon, you assured yourself as he let out a low whistle, his fingers tracing the outline of your labia, thumbing at your clit.

“So wet, Love.” He groaned, and you heard the clinking of him undoing his belt, the shifting of fabric before he was back on top of you, hot like molten lava against your skin, almost exactly like the fire from an explosion Johnny had set off on your way out of a building, almost burning you with its head. You cried out, trying to arch your back away from him but he wasn’t having any of it, pulling you back against him tighter, a growl of warning in your ear that you didn’t heed.

It hurt, it burned, it was too much, help-

You didn’t notice when he turned you around, but you sure did notice when he slapped you, his palm striking your cheek so violently that it snapped your head to the side. You were sure you could taste blood in your mouth.

You looked at him slowly, clutching your cheek like it was some fatal wound, trembling beneath his angry red face, his body shaking with his heavy breathing.

He didn’t say anything but he didn’t need to as he pushed you back, your head hitting the backboard with a dull “crack” sound. Lights flashed behind your eyes, like fireworks at the dead of night. You didn’t register the pain, only his fingers tugging your panties to the side before stroking between your lips, rubbing through wetness that was so prominent that the sound of it echoed in your ears, barely heard above the beating of your own heart.

Two fingers curled into you with no preparation, making your hips jolt, sensitive to his touch as those calluses stroked your insides in a way that wasn’t all that unpleasant. Two fingers turned to three, stretching you so fully that it almost hurt. You could hear someone faintly through the noise of your heartbeat and your own wetness. They were moaning, soft and gasp like, they sounded so needy. Desperate. Was that you? It sounded like you. But you couldn’t feel those noises coming out of your throat.

His fingers were gone, so suddenly that you heard the voice keen in what sounded like dismay. Price cooed at the sound, petting your cheek gently.

“Don’t worry, Lovey. Just wanna taste ya before I give ya something better.” He tells you, pecking your lips before kissing his way through your cleavage and down your belly, big hands rubbing at your thighs as he hooks them over his shoulders as his mouth makes its way to your pussy, tongue flicking against your clit in a way that was almost playful. His eyes sparkled at the way you wiggled at it, doing it again and again as you moved more desperately before he finally had mercy on you and took your clit fully into his mouth, giving it a rough suckle.

Your back arched, the voice keened so loudly that you were sure others would hear. Price chuckled, sending vibrations across that sensitive bundle of nerves. You couldn’t remember why you were here, how you got beneath him, could only focus on how he slipped his tongue inside you, wiggling it around to try and taste every inch he could, his beard scratching at your skin and his nose rubbing against your clit.

“Taste so good love.” He murmured when he finally pulled back for air, lapping at your lips, keeping a strong grip on your hips when they tried to rise to meet his mouth. Then he was back at it, making you writhe and cry as he worked you over with his tongue and lips, unraveled you little bit by little bit until your slick painted him face, your legs trembling, belly coiled tight and hot as your orgasm rolled through you, leaving you aching and tired down to your very bones.

He kissed your clit, rough and messy before he moved his way back up your body, licking a long stripe from your pubic bone all the way to your neck where he started sucking, sure to leave bruises that, even if not seen, would be felt for days.

“Fuckin perfect, Love.” He tells you, nudging you to face him instead of the wall. The overhead light shone above him, shadowing his face. It made him look like an Angel.

Or a monster.

He kissed you then, his tongue in your mouth, making you taste yourself with hints of his whiskey as an aftertaste. You let him, your hands weakly gripping at the sheets below your body. Your body didn’t feel right. You felt sluggish and tired.

Something prodded at your pussy, slipping through your wetness before sliding all the way into the very base, filling you some completely and perfectly that you actually shed a tear, a shuddering gasp leaving your lips.

“That’s it, Lovey. You’re being such a good girl. Knew you wanted it.” Price groaned, his hands fisting the sheets on either side of your head as he jerked his hips once, twice, three times before stopping, trying to gain some semblance of control over himself. “Just needed to be shown how good I could make you feel.”

You didn’t say anything. He didn’t seem to care.

“Ye’re mine, Love. My good girl. My Sargent.” He panted, his thrusts slow but no less rough. “Gonna fill your pretty pussy, yeah? Give you a baby. Show everyone how you’re mine with a little one that looks like me on your hip. You’ll give it to me, won’t you?”

You didn’t respond. Your vision flickered in and out, black spots taking over your sight.

Price didn’t seem to like that, his hands wrapping around your throat. They were just there at first but they got tighter the longer your silence continued. You felt numb. You couldn’t breathe-

You blacked out.

You woke up sometime later in what you were sure was the infirmary, something leaking from you with the smell of Price’s cigars enveloping the room. You didn’t have to look, you knew he was there.

You shut your eyes again and just cried.

[dreamgrlarchive]

My Fav Bad Girls

#PrettyHeiressDiaries: BGC Edition 🎀

tiara - bgc 7

“i’m the sh*t! look at me, then look at you! look at your hair, then look at mine!” ❤︎︎

bougie girl down! the hair and makeup were never not on point (tbh this is the reason i like most of these girls)!

real and pretty. never hopped on a bandwagon simply bc it was popular.

so freaking funny! and effortlessly too. she never came across as try hard.

my number one fav!

ashley - bgc 6

“i’m establishing my own dominance and these b*tches can’t f*ck with me!” ❤︎︎

if tiara is my number one fav, ashley is a close number two!

very girly girl and i love that in anyone.

cute little playboy bunny.

so authentic and never gave snake or try hard.

took an entire house on and was not scared to stand alone.

danni - bgc 8

“i’m not scared of no b*tch! whoop my ass today, whoop my ass tomorrow! i don’t give a f*ck how big you are! if i wanna do something i’m gonna do it and none of these b*tches are gonna stop me! so i’m glad you whooped my ass! that was the biggest fight in bad girls club history and it ultimately made us the stars, so, THANK YOU!” ❤︎︎

if you pay attention, danni was never the issue. she just always had her sisters back unconditionally. as someone with three sisters, i love that.

she and her sister WERE the entertainment of season 8.

knew she couldn’t fight and walked into the lions den unafraid. tbh i don’t care about a girl that “fights”. that is NEVER the reason i like someone. it’s corny.

danni was very clearly aware of the bigger picture and simply did not care about taking a hit. it’s not that deep.

camilla - bgc 8

“b*tch you’re just mad that another cute, hottie chick came up in this mug, and looked AMAZING!” ❤︎︎

gorgeous!!!! doesn’t get enough credit as one of the prettiest bad girls.

as someone that has been bullied in real life it was so fulfilling to see the way she handled it. she didn’t let ANYTHING shake her.

said exactly how she felt when she felt that way.

girls were jealous and she knew it.

sarah - bgc 11

“there’s no lying or sugar coating it! i do what i say and i say what i do!” ❤︎︎

my fav bgc blonde of all time. better than kate, kristen, and jada in my opinion.

yeah she talks a lot but she’s real and isn’t scared of anyone.

i would love to be friends with her she seems so sweet and caring. she reminds me of the girls that took me under their wing when i started at hooters.

called out stephanie’s irrelevant ass at the reunion, checked mehgan as soon as she heard shit talking + anyone who beats gigi’s ass is a fav in my book!

her signature piercings, bows, and blonde hair was so bimbo i love it. + that iconic reunion look!!!

unfortunately didn’t get enough time to shine on that raggedy season of hers but she was definitely the star of season 11 so i’m glad we got to see more of her on BGASB and season 13.

jelaminah - bgc 14

“i don’t feel like i’m better than nobody!… but i’m comfortable with who i am because it’s taken me a lot!” ❤︎︎

dominance at its finest. she said it’s the jela show and manifested that down. she had girls stuck in her face, but talking behind her back. that’s because they knew it wouldn’t fly.

her signature look oozed of feminine allure. educated! believed in having her own life and goals AND not entertaining men that weren’t up to her standards.

she kept her space clean and was disgusted by mess and filth.

able to cope with lots of personalities and get along with everyone.

proud to be black and didn’t tolerate racism.

the clermont twins - bgc 14

“you know, certain things i can’t help. i feel like i’m not just cute; like i got a lot going for myself and i’m smart. so like when you’re that strong of a person, you’re a bad b*tch!” -shannon

“i just look so damn good, and it’s so hard to meet other girls who are just as confident as i am! -shannade

“b*tch, SHUT UP!” ❤︎︎

vain black barbies and i’m here for it.

as much as people seem to think otherwise, they weren’t mean girls or bullies. they just spoke up for themselves when getting unsolicited harassment from the other girls.

every look for for me was a ten. i loved their aesthetic back then.

smart girls. they capitalized on their appearance on the show and now they’re two of the most noteworthy and wealthy bad girls ever.

unshakable confidence. the other girls wanted them humbled so bad and they just didn’t waiver. luvs it.

[pastryland]

charlos completed fic recommendations

If any of the authors of the fics mentioned here or are tagged and don't want their fics to be here, please let me know and I'll remove it!

Will update this list periodically

❤️ = favorite

⭐️ = I love fics by this author in general

❌ = triggering themes

🔥 = explicit

punctuated all wrong - 7k - ❤️ ⭐️

Prompt: "I don’t know if someone else agrees with me but I’m a sucker for the whole person A falls in love with person B but they think they don’t deserve person B’s love trope and I’d love to see how it would play out with charlos (not saying who’s person A and who person B, even though that should be pretty obvious)"

head over heels - 44k - ❤️ 🔥

“Oh, really, you think that you, Carlos Sainz, somehow have a kink so fucked up that I wouldn’t be able to handle it, do tell me what it is”, he says, “is it spanking maybe, I’m sure you think that’s beyond taboo, you want to drape me over your lap, punish me for being a bad boy?”, Carlos shakes his head, a small glint in his eye, “Bondage then? Do you want to tie me up?”, another shake of the head, “Whips? Paddles? Feathers?”, Carlos continues shaking his head and so Charles leans in further, his voice dipping lower as he continues. “Maybe you’re into age play then”, he pushes closer, so their faces are only inches apart, “do you want me to call you daddy?”, the air between them feels like it’s on fire as Carlos breathes out a hot laugh, giving another miniscule shake off the head. “Then tell me”, Charles demands and waits as Carlos seems to consider him for a moment, before leaning forwards so his lips are next to his ear, his breath hot against his skin, sending shivers cascading down his body. “Love”.

i feel so much, i feel so numb - 23k - ❤️ ⭐️ 🔥

As long as he’s known what a soulmate is, he’s known his soulmate’s name. Carlos. Scrawled along the delicate skin of his right wrist.

can't sleep 'til i feel your touch - 8k - ⭐️ 🔥

“I could...” Carlos trails off, and Charles drops his hands from his temples, looking at him curiously. “You could, what?” “...give you a hand.” He says it so casually that it takes Charles a minute to even attempt at understanding what he means. ~ ~ OR: Charles develops insomnia, and the only thing that helps is...Carlos?

the trials of 2022 - 33k - ❤️ ⭐️ 🔥

A partial summary of the 2022 season, as told by Charles or Carlos, following each race.

dice che ti ama (ma lo sai che mente) - 2k - ⭐️ 🔥

But Charles smiled, dimples out and about, back against the wall of Carlos’ driver’s room. Like he knew he wasn’t in danger. Like he hadn’t entered a lions’ den looking like a three course meal. (Like he knew Carlos was all bark and no bite, and toying with the metaphorical rubber band —stretch, stretch, stretching— wouldn’t ever make it snap into his straight nose.)

Almost Total Wreck - 2k - 🔥 - also has Pierre/Charles

He imagines telling Pierre about it: he spat right in my face and I came like that it was so good, and he’s already replacing the man’s orgasm with his own, making his wounded sounds as he drags it out kicking and screaming, so that by the time he’s done his stomach hurts with it, his head pounds like a fever, more ache than pleasure but that’s what pleasure is, isn’t it?

worthy is the lamb (thank you for the price you paid) - 12k - ⭐️ ❌ 🔥

Predestined (adjective): [ˌpriːˈdes.tɪnd] If you say that something was predestined, you mean that it could not have been prevented or changed because it had already been decided by a power such as God or fate.

my blood is singing with your voice (the saints can't help me now) - 13k - ⭐️ 🔥

He was there. (God was also there.) Carlos walked towards the altarpiece (and the back with the white t-shirt) breathing through his nose like a bull. The cross on his chest wasn’t warm because it got a little chilly at night. He turned. “Carlos.” “Hey, Charles.” “You say my name weird.” Carlos swallowed. “Oh—” “I like it.”

all the king's horses, all the king's men - 38k - ❤️ ⭐️ 🔥

Carlos Sainz was eight years old when he fell in love. (For the first time.) It was at a race track. (It wouldn’t be the last time.)

little of your love - 5k - ⭐️ 🔥

in which Charles gets accidentally knocked up by Pierre, and he’s determined to raise the baby himself. Carlos is having none of that.

I Fell for Your Magic - 10k - 🔥

Charles had been the one to decide the sun rose and set with Carlos Sainz Jr. And it was Charles who had unexpectedly fallen in love with his teammate over the last couple years.

last night - 24k - ⭐️ 🔥

Rule #1: When you go to America, don't lose your virginity to your best friend's roommate. Charles fails Rule #1.

internal mechanics - 15k - ⭐️ 🔥

"Charles was with someone at the gym," Carlos hisses into the phone.

are we out of the woods yet? - 10k

Charles takes a few moments to consider it. It doesn’t sound like him at all. “So I really wanted it.” “Yes,” Carlos repeats, and then frowns. “Do you think–” His voice hardens just the slightest bit, leaning into… something that Charles can’t really place. “I didn’t make you do it.” Charles shifts away from him, staring at the other wall instead. “Of course. But anyway, I don’t know. I don’t remember it anyway.”

mind over matter is magic - 6k - ⭐️ 🔥

Carlos leaned on the side of the pool that overlooked Singapore at night. Arms crossed over the ledge — Carlos almost wanted to look down below. Feel the swoop in his stomach at the realization of how high up they were, relish on it. But, he rationalized, looking at Charles Leclerc usually had the same effect.

the hours i lost - 3k

Charles thinks he was foolish to be afraid of this, of Carlos. He thinks he was foolish to let himself get this far. He thinks he should have given in years ago. He thinks he’ll regret everything once he’s sober.

all the same old places - 13k - ⭐️

Charles stares at Carlos, then. Right at him. His eyes haven't changed, either. They're still the same shade of green - almost blue, even more so in the warm light of the sun. For reasons unknown, Carlos feels like smiling.

Pouring - 10k

At the age of ten, it's easy to talk about how his soulmate will be someone tall and certainly a brunette, because no one really knows what to expect until the moment they actually meet them.

Ballad of a Thin Place - 39k - ⭐️ 🔥

Thrust into the aristocracy after marrying a baronet's daughter, Charles, now a lord, struggles to adapt to the quiet life of an estate in the English countryside. Desperate for the connection and compassion that is lacking from his wife, he pursues a torrid affair with the handsome gamekeeper on their estate, a man who has a past he's trying to escape...

you bring me back to life - 1.8k

Charles said nothing, instead opting to ask him how he had been doing in his racing career. Arthur excitedly relayed everything that he could remember, from paddock gossip to results from race to race. It felt good to be surrounded by family. Not for the first time, he wished that he would have stayed. It is too late anyway. If he dwells on the past he’ll lose his present.

[poisonlove]

Miss Ortega | j.o

Part 1 part 2

part 3

As I reached the third equation, I heard the sound of heels approaching. I shivered and tried not to look at the person responsible, intending to stay focused. When I placed the tip of the pen on the paper, I felt a presence behind me. It seemed that Professor Ortega had made her way around the desks, curiously observing her students' work.

At this moment, she was standing behind me.

A hand rested on my chair, and the other spread its fingers on the side of the desk. An intoxicating perfume invaded my nostrils, and a shiver ran down my spine due to Jenna's sudden proximity. A cascade of black hair fell to the side of her head, brushing against my shoulder. From the corner of my eye, I saw the professor attentively looking at the paper, analyzing each equation with her gaze.

She had a relatively perfect profile. A button nose, full lips that extended when she smiled, and coffee-colored eyes that pierced through anything or anyone they focused on. I noticed a dimple on her right cheek when she smiled. My cheeks turned red when I saw that the professor had slightly turned in my direction, catching me in the midst of my contemplation. She smirked mockingly, making my cheeks turn even redder.

I looked back at the desk, focusing on her hand. It was... small, and I almost had the urge to reach out and confirm my observation. Her nails were painted an intense black color, and her fingers, wrist, were adorned with rings and bracelets. I swallowed, feeling my throat strangely dry.

Our fingers were close. If... I moved a few centimeters, I could check if her skin was soft.

I mentally scolded myself.

"Here... take a closer look," her voice suddenly husky, brought my attention back from my thoughts. Jenna was whispering, so as not to disturb the other students. Her index finger moved towards the result of my second equation. With confusion, I reread what I had written and widened my eyes when I spotted an error.

Damn, this is ridiculous.

With flushed cheeks, this time from embarrassment, I drew a line over the incorrect result and wrote the correct one above it. In a quick motion, her hand landed on mine, giving it a slight approving squeeze. Jenna moved away and made her way to her desk, sitting on it.

The contact of her hand still burned on my skin.

After 10 minutes, I stood up from the chair, drawing the attention of some curious students. I walked towards Jenna with a smile on my lips. I was very proud of my exam. Professor Ortega mirrored my gesture and reached out her hand towards my sheet, grabbing it.

Once again, our fingers brushed against each other.

"Are you sure? Do you still have... an hour?" she exclaimed in surprise after checking her watch. I nodded, and she smiled softly, her eyes gleaming with pride.

I released my grip on the paper and returned to my seat.

"T/N?" I lifted my head upon hearing my name. Jenna looked at me with a smile.

"Come here, I wouldn't want the others to be distracted," her hand tapped lightly on the wooden surface, indicating that I should come and sit beside her.

I looked at Enid guiltily, my heart pounding in my throat as I walked straight into the lion's den.

With a shy demeanor, I approached Professor Ortega, who looked at me with a half-smile. I sat next to her figure, perching on the lectern.

My feet scraped the floor, swinging my legs back and forth. I tried not to let a smile escape when I saw Jenna's feet only reaching halfway down the lectern. Despite the heels, she was at least 10 centimeters away from the ground.

Nervously, my hands intertwined, resting on my lap. Jenna watched her students like a vulture, giving a disappointed look when she saw two girls whispering to each other, probably asking for answers. I absentmindedly bit my lower lip while watching Enid write on her paper.

I hope she wrote something.

Jenna cleared her throat, tilting her head in my direction. My hairs stood on end as I felt her breath against my cheek.

"What color do you like?" she asked, and I was perplexed by her question. I could feel her gaze on the side of my head. "Really?" Inevitably, the corners of my lips lifted, forming a shy smile. My gaze was focused on the class.

"Blue," I replied, avoiding eye contact between us. Jenna smiled faintly. "Yours is black, right?" I asked, glancing at her from the corner of my eye.

She nodded slowly, looking confused.

I looked at her hand beside my hips. With a tilt of my head, I indicated for her to look down, and she smiled when she saw my range of action.

Her black nails.

She raised her hand, making her bracelets jingle. With her arm in the air, she held her hand steady, spreading her fingers. "Do you like them?" she simply asked.

Instinctively, I took her wrist, taking a quick glance at her hand. "Yes... they are really beautiful," I smiled.

"Do you like mine? They're skin-colored," she joked. She didn't have nail polish on, and she chuckled shyly at my joke.

We fell silent, enjoying each other's presence. The atmosphere was pleasant and not at all uncomfortable. I must admit that I liked Jenna; I enjoyed chatting with her. I think it was mutual because she attempted a conversation to establish a kind of friendship between student and teacher.

"Nice ring," the dark-haired girl suddenly remarked. Jenna took my hand to get a closer look at the ring my grandmother had given me. Her eyes marveled at the beauty of the white metal.

With a laugh, I took it off, placing the precious ring in her hands. "Try it on," I smiled. I knew it would be too big for her hand, but trying wouldn't hurt. As I predicted, it was too large for her fingers, but she still managed to make it fit on her thumb.

The sound of a chair being pulled back made her look towards the middle of the classroom. The teacher clenched her jaw in annoyance, closing her eyes at the squeak. Deborah walked towards our direction, handing out the exams.

She gave Jenna a stern look. Jenna smiled at her, placing the test on top of mine.

"And tell me..." I redirected my attention to the dark-haired girl. Her eyes were attentively focused on my face. "Why this passion for Calculus?" She raised the corner of her upper lip. "It's not a true passion... I simply understand numbers," I shrugged indifferently, answering her question.

"Well... in a few months, there will be a competition. You should participate," she confessed, and I fell silent, pondering her words. Jenna stepped down from the lectern, capturing the attention of those who were still taking the exam.

"Guys... you have..." she emphasized the letter 'e', "...10 minutes." Panic-filled groans resonated in the room at the news. Jenna stood in front of me, observing my legs swinging from side to side. She lightly tapped my leg with her hand, indicating that I should stop. I obeyed her request and stopped in mid-swing.

The vibration in my pants pocket made me jump in surprise. I grabbed my phone and saw a message from Erick.

Erick was one of my best friends and openly gay. I smiled when I saw the message, and this caught Jenna's attention.

"Who is it?" she asked, leaning her head towards my phone with curiosity. "Oh, just a friend," I smiled, puzzled by the sudden question. Jenna nodded with a smile.

The sound of the bell prompted a series of movements, and one by one, students handed in their exams, many of them furrowing their brows at how it had gone. Within seconds, the room was empty.

Enid jumped with her backpack on her shoulder and approached us, handing me my backpack. I gave her a grateful smile, and she winked at me.

"Shall we go? We have history now," she said, walking towards the doorway.

"Miss T/N, can you stay for a moment?" Jenna exclaimed, arranging the papers. I nodded and gestured to Enid with my hand to go ahead without me. I would have caught up with her in a few moments. Enid gave me a mischievous smile and left the room, leaving me alone with Professor Ortega.

"Do you need something, Professor Ortega?" I asked, nervously biting my lower lip. Jenna genuinely smiled as she put the tests into her backpack.

"Oh, call me Jenna. We're only a few years apart," she laughed at the thought. I nervously tightened the strap of my backpack.

Anyway, yes, I do need something," she cleared her throat. "As I told you before, there will be a competition in a few months, and I would really like you to participate. You have talent," she looked at me with a half-smile. "I'll be your tutor, of course, and I can help you with the exam," she tilted her head to the side. "You just need to stay a couple of afternoons a week. Do you accept my proposal?" she asked with a hint of hope.

I blinked in confusion, surprised by her proposal.

"Umm... can I think about it and give you an answer by the end of today?" I suggested, feeling a strange pressure on my shoulders. I didn't want to make hasty decisions; I wanted to avoid getting her hopes up for something I hadn't thought through yet.

She gave me a big smile. "Then I'll see you later, T/N," she winked playfully and with a giggle, she left the classroom, leaving me completely alone.

The sound of heels fading away.

My cheeks turned red, and I started fidgeting with my fingers. My thumb didn't feel the familiar sensation of the metal ring around my finger, and with agitation, I looked at the missing ring on my left ring finger.

Jenna still had my ring, damn it.

A notification on my phone snapped me out of my trance. I turned on the screen and saw that it was from Enid.

Enid: Having fun with the sexy teacher, are you?

I rolled my eyes at her stupid comment and quickly walked to my next lesson. History awaited me, along with an Enid who wanted to hear gossip. But the back of my mind kept replaying the conversation with Jenna, making me think about the upcoming meeting this evening.

You need to stay calm, you can do this, T/N.

(...)

At one o'clock, it was time for lunch. Most of the students chatted among themselves, eating in the meantime. With my lower lip caught between my teeth, I waited for the line to move. I was really hungry, and when I was hungry, I could be quite grumpy. Enid looked curiously at the fries a guy was receiving. My knuckles clenched tightly on the still empty tray.

"Do they have fries? Since when?" Enid was very excited. I shook my head, letting her know that I didn't know the answer.

All I cared about was getting some food in my stomach.

"I'll have... this," I said when it was finally my turn. A mush they called pasta sat in a corner of the kitchen. It looked awful, but I was still starving. The cook rolled her eyes in boredom and put the mush on my tray. The sound and smell made me tremble slightly, and with my head lowered, I glared at the woman with anger.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked, placing a bottle of water on my tray. I shook my head, suppressing the urge to tell her that we didn't deserve to eat that garbage.

With a frustrated sigh, Enid and I made our way to the table where Erick was sitting.

The blushing boy genuinely smiled at us as he held hands with his boyfriend. I have to admit, Diego is a good guy, and they look so cute together.

With a thud, we sat down at the table.

I was sitting across from the lovebirds.

"I heard there's a new Calculus teacher. What's he like?" Erick put a french fry in his mouth. "We have him tomorrow, but I'd like to know your opinion," he swallowed loudly and immediately took another fry from the tray, dipping it in mayo.

"Well, actually, it's a female teacher," Enid genuinely smiled. "She made us take a test, but despite that, she seems pretty chill," she shrugged indifferently. "She's really young, and, well, really sexy," she raised her eyebrows mischievously, and I rolled my eyes at the comment.

"Is it true that she kicked Edward out of class?" Diego asked, placing a hand on his boyfriend's tray and receiving a small slap on his fingers. The brunette rubbed the affected area, looking at Erick with a furrowed brow.

"Yep, that idiot called her 'doll'," I smiled. "I'm glad she kicked him out. Sometimes that guy can be really stupid," I said, playing with the pasta.

Reluctantly, I took a bite, struggling to swallow the unpleasant taste.

"Finally, someone put him in his place," Erick smiled, happy with the news. "T/N, do you want some fries?" he asked me later. I guess my friend noticed that my food was terrible. I shook my head, amused by Diego's incredulous reaction.

"By the way... you have an admirer," Enid whispered, smiling mischievously. Her eyes were fixed on a point behind my back.

I turned around and saw Jenna grabbing an apple and a bottle of water from the kitchen. In fact, her eyes were aimed at me, making brief eye contact with me. Her gaze then turned to the cook, smiling at her and saying something I couldn't hear for obvious reasons.

She gave me a quick glance, and with a shy smile, Professor Ortega left the dining hall.

Enid let out an ecstatic scream. Many students turned towards us, looking at us with confusion. With flushed cheeks, I looked back at the blonde.

"You were not mistaken at all, Enid," Erick genuinely smiled, resting his head on Diego's shoulder.

"By the way, what did the sexy girl want?" Enid rested her head on her hand, looking at me intently.

"Her name is Jenna, or you can call her Professor Ortega," I said irritably, giving a reproachful look to the petite blonde.

Enid rolled her eyes in boredom, gesturing for me to continue talking.

"Anyway..." I said, swallowing nervously as three pairs of eyes stared at me without blinking. "There's going to be some kind of Calculus contest in a few months, and she wanted me to sign up," Enid sighed, suddenly bored.

"Then?" Diego prompted, curious to hear what I had to say. "She offered to be my tutor and help me a couple of afternoons a week."

Enid's eyes widened, and she took my hand, squeezing it tightly. A silly smile was plastered on her lips. I think something has gotten into her mischievous head.

"That changes everything! It's a date!" Enid smiled, and I looked at her as if she had two heads.

"A study date," I emphasized, puzzled by her words, breaking the contact between our hands. What's gotten into her? After all, Jenna is my teacher.

I stood up from my seat, suddenly losing my appetite. Enid looked at me with a slight smile on her lips.

"I'm going to the coffee machines. I feel like having a cappuccino," I pointed lazily towards the exit, grabbing the water bottle.

Enid squinted her eyes, trying to figure out my true intentions. Erick smiled at me, waving his hand in greeting.

I began walking towards the exit with quick steps.

"Good luck, lion!" Enid shouted, and with flushed cheeks, I increased my walking speed, avoiding the inappropriate comment.

My real intention was to talk to Jenna. In the hours since her class, I had reflected a lot on her proposal, and it didn't seem like a bad idea after all.

I wanted to accept the proposal and retrieve the ring.

Come to think of it, I was in the mood for a cappuccino.

All I hoped for was to find Jenna Ortega.

I took a few hesitant steps before hearing a familiar voice in the distance. Timidly, I walked toward the sound of the voice, and a laugh made me furrow my brow in confusion. I turned the corner, and a strange sensation hit the pit of my stomach when I saw who it was.

Jenna was engaged in animated conversation with Professor Asher Spenser. The sandy-haired professor was flexing his muscles with the clear intention of impressing the Greek goddess in front of him. In return, Jenna seemed to enjoy his antics but was not primarily interested in the young professor's muscles. Asher invited Jenna to touch his biceps with a look, but the brunette politely declined, laughing in embarrassment.

It seemed like the perfect moment to intervene and make my presence felt.

I cleared my throat, drawing the attention of the two young people, and Asher subtly adjusted his shirt, avoiding my gaze. I observed his behavior and approached the couple. Jenna gave me a charming smile, looking at me almost with relief.

I saved her from Asher.

"T/N! So glad to see you! Do you need something?" Jenna looked at me with a smile, putting her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.

I approached Asher, who watched me with confusion and a hint of anger, as I had interrupted the moment with the new Calculus professor. I averted my gaze from him and focused my eyes on Jenna's figure, her brown eyes curiously fixed on me.

My cheeks turned a dark shade of red, and I opened and closed my lips several times, trying to talk to Jenna without stuttering. Asher smirked.

"Well, it's been a pleasure. You can go now," the Gym teacher said with a half-laugh. I clenched my jaw, and... He made a mocking smile, toying with the whistle around his neck. I closed my hand into a fist, trying not to lose my patience.

Jenna looked at Asher disapprovingly, wiping that stupid smile off his face.

"Um... actually, I'd like to talk to the professor alone," I emphasized the last part, trying to make Asher understand that he should leave. I knew Jenna told me to call her by her name, but I wasn't sure if it also applied in public.

Jenna raised an eyebrow and looked expectantly at Asher.

The Gym teacher sighed and muttered something to himself, walking away down the hallway, leaving me alone with Jenna.

"Coffee? Cappuccino? My treat," she said, and I smiled, shaking my head.

"A cappuccino, but I'll pay for it myself." She opened her mouth in feigned surprise. Jenna pursed her lips and looked at me with amused eyes.

"I'll pay. How much sugar?" she asked, looking at me seriously. I sighed resignedly at the clear defeat.

"Three," I said, and Jenna inputted the number.

The coffee machine started making its typical grinding noise.

As I shifted my weight from one leg to another, I looked at the coffee machine, aware of Jenna's piercing gaze. A few seconds later, the machine beeped, indicating that the cappuccino was ready. Jenna leaned over and took the cup with the hot liquid, handing it to me. I gave her a grateful smile and timidly sipped the cappuccino, closing my eyes at its warm and comforting taste.

Jenna clicked on the button for a long black coffee.

"I actually wanted to talk to you about two things..." I blew on the cup and finished the cappuccino in one sip. Jenna laughed, and after a few seconds, she took a sip of her desired coffee. With an uncomfortable smile, I threw the cup in the trash.

"I'm totally yours ," she joked.

Her statement made me blush and, at the same time, feel a strange sensation in my lower abdomen. The expression on my face made Jenna laugh.

"Sorry about that. Go ahead," she said, taking a sip of her coffee while keeping her eyes fixed on mine.

"The first thing is... could... let's say... I get my ring back?" I smiled nervously, scratching the back of my neck in embarrassment.

Jenna widened her eyes and threw the cup into the receptacle once she finished. The misunderstanding made Professor Ortega blush.

"Shit, I'm sorry." She took the ring off her finger and handed it to me. "It was so comfortable that I didn't realize it wasn't one of mine." Her cheeks turned even redder, and I couldn't help but think how adorable she was.

I put the ring on my ring finger, feeling the cold metal against my skin once again.

"Mind if we talk while we walk? I have to go to the third floor. I have a class in 10 minutes." She looked almost guilty as she made the request, and I nodded in agreement.

We started walking side by side towards the stairs.

"What else did you have to tell me?" Jenna glanced at me from the corner of her eye as she continued to walk.

We climbed several steps.

"I've considered your proposal, Jenna," I said her name, and she smiled, satisfied. I have to admit it felt strange calling a professor by their first name. I shrugged indifferently and continued speaking.

Meanwhile, Jenna stopped in the middle of the stairs, looking at me expectantly.

"I accept... I don't think it's a bad idea to spend a couple of afternoons together each week," I confessed, and a 32-tooth smile spread across her lips.

Almost instinctively, I grabbed the railing as a body collided with mine, wrapping their hands around my neck.

My eyes widened, and I tensed up at the sudden contact, but I began to relax when I realized it was Jenna. Once again, her perfume filled my nostrils, and I closed my eyes at the pleasant sensation of her body warmth against mine. My hand ran timidly along her back, returning the embrace. Jenna made the hug last for only a few seconds, and I almost complained about the sudden lack.

Professor Ortega had flushed cheeks, and for the first time, I noticed a series of freckles surrounding her nose.

She straightened her clothes, embarrassed and avoiding my gaze.

"Sorry... for the excitement," she justified with a nervous laugh.

"Don't worry," I smiled, and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Well... I should go to class now," she pointed in the direction of the classroom as she took a step back, never taking her eyes off mine.

I started descending the stairs, but someone calling my name made me stop. I looked up and saw Jenna. The professor had her head tilted towards me, her unruly hair partially covering her face.

"See you later? I'll finish the lesson, and then we can discuss the details. Does that sound good?" Her voice sounded an octave higher due to the strange angle of her neck.

"Sure, theoretically I'm done for the day. I'll wait for you in the teachers' lounge," I smiled, and she returned the smile, composed herself, and walked toward her destination.

Once again, the sound of heels faded

[dramioneasks]

Any fics where H and D are already married during their Hogwart years secretly and when the marriage is revealed everyone around them has a negative reaction with hae

What’s In A Name? - Necozzy - T, WIP - Hermione Granger returns for her eighth year of Hogwarts determined to enjoy her final year at school, but a lot has happened in the months since the war ended and she has a secret she’s desperate tell.

Entanglement By: blankfish - M, WIP - “Your loyalties begin and end with me now, Granger, or have you forgotten?” he spat bitterly. At the request of the Order, Hermione Granger marries Draco Malfoy, a man she’d only ever known as her enemy. This decision leads her on a winding path of tumultuous consequences that even she could not have predicted. Dramione War AU.

Dragon in the Lion’s Den By: ginnyginny - M, 31 Chapters - As the final battle ends, Hermione’s secret is acidentally exposed.  Will Harry and Ron understand the path that Dumbledore put her on in their 6th year not only led to the defeat of Voldemort, but to her marriage to Draco Malfoy?

-Lisa