#there's some mischievous and darkness and fire

[idkyetxoxo]

Six | Enchanted | Aemond Targaryen

Word count - 3795

Warnings - None

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A week had passed since that night in the pool, yet the memory of it clung to me like a half-forgotten dream, teasing the edges of my mind. The gardens were far behind me now, replaced by the lively hum of the common room. 

I lay sprawled across Nymor's lap, his fingers absently combing through my hair, while the raucous banter of his friends swirled around us like a familiar, comforting melody. 

Their teasing voices were a pleasant distraction from the thoughts that had been haunting me since the pool—thoughts of Aemond and the dangerous pull he seemed to have on me.

The negotiations between my father and Viserys were progressing, each day pulling me closer to the inevitable. 

The impending marriage loomed over me like a storm cloud, dark and inescapable. 

Everyone around me treated it as a certainty as if it had been written in the stars long before I ever had a say in the matter. 

But deep down, a part of me still fought against it, clinging to the hope that there might be some way out, some path that didn't end with me standing beside Aemond Targaryen, bound to him for life.

And yet, even as I yearned to escape, I couldn't fully banish the memory of him. 

His sharp gaze, the way his touch had set fire to my skin—it haunted me, even as I tried to shake it off. 

There was something about Aemond that intrigued me, something beyond the cold mask of duty and power. I didn't want to admit it, but I couldn't deny the truth any longer—I didn't completely despise him. 

If anything, I was captivated by the man beneath the dragon prince facade.

But then there was the other truth—the one that gnawed at me like an open wound. His family had laid waste to my homeland, without a second thought, without remorse. 

And that was something I could never forget, no matter how tempting the man himself might be.

"What are you thinking about?" Nymor's voice broke through the fog of my thoughts, his fingers prodding my cheek in an attempt to bring me back to the present.

"My doom," I muttered dramatically, swatting his hand away. His friends erupted into laughter, the sound rich and warm, filling the room like the flickering hearth.

"So awfully cynical, princess. Where is that carefree girl we know and love?" Yoren teased, nudging my legs with a grin, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

I sat up, crossing my legs as I sighed. "I don't want to leave Dorne," I admitted, the weight of the words settling heavily on my chest. 

Leaving this place—the sun-drenched gardens, the sea breeze that tasted of salt and freedom—felt like losing a part of myself.

"Then don't," Yoren said with a casual shrug, as if it were that simple. His flippancy stung, though I knew he didn't mean it to.

"It's that one-eyed fool, isn't it?" Nymor's voice was tinged with both annoyance and sympathy, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. 

I rolled my eyes, but the mention of Aemond sent a shiver through me, a mixture of frustration and something I didn't want to name.

"Ah, we've heard the whispers of a union in the making," Maric chimed in with mock seriousness, raising his brows in exaggerated intrigue.

"My father insists upon it," I mumbled, leaning forward to grab Yoren's cup. He jerked it out of reach, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"Get your own wine, princess," Yoren teased, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"Marry one of us," Maric suggested with a chuckle, though there was a glimmer of something sincere in his eyes. "Stay in Dorne forever. You'd never have to leave."

The idea was as tempting as it was impossible, and I let out a hollow laugh. 

"If only it were that easy," I said, but even as the words left my lips, I couldn't help but wonder. 

What would my life look like if I stayed? If I let myself forget the weight of duty and allowed myself to indulge in the carefree moments that Dorne offered?

Yoren leaned forward suddenly, his face contorted in an exaggerated pout, making ridiculous kissing noises that sent me into a fit of giggles. 

In the midst of his antics, I seized my chance, swiping his cup of wine with a victorious grin.

"Give it back!" he exclaimed, lunging after me, his fingers closing around my wrists as he loomed over me with a mock stern expression. 

I stuck my tongue out at him in defiance, holding the cup just out of his reach. "Make me," I teased, the playful challenge lighting a spark in my eyes.

Nymor laughed beside me, shaking his head as he playfully slapped Maric's chest. "Looks like you've met your match, Yoren."

The warmth of their laughter, the teasing banter—it was a world away from the heavy tension that followed me like a shadow. 

For a moment, I let myself get lost in it, in the easy companionship of these men who didn't expect anything from me except a shared drink and a laugh. 

I flirted with the thought of staying here forever, of letting these light-hearted moments fill the spaces that Aemond's memory couldn't touch.

But no matter how much I tried to distract myself, I couldn't entirely forget him. 

The memory of his touch, the intensity of his gaze—it was like a flame that flickered at the edge of my mind, refusing to be extinguished. 

Even as Yoren hovered over me, his playful grin inches from mine, I felt the pull of that night in the pool, a lingering thread that tied me to Aemond, whether I wanted it or not.

"Wine," Yoren demanded again, though there was no real force behind his words, just the playful tug-of-war between us.

I grinned up at him, the spark of rebellion still dancing in my eyes. "Come and get it," I challenged, holding the cup just out of reach as he leaned in closer.

"Princess," a voice called from the doorway, and the lively room fell silent as all eyes turned to see the Targaryen siblings standing in the threshold. 

The sudden shift in energy was palpable like the air had been sucked out, leaving a charged stillness behind.

"Are we interrupting?" Aegon drawled, his smirk widening as he took in the scene before him. 

Yoren, still holding my wrists in a playful grip, dropped them immediately, stepping back with a sheepish smile. The light-heartedness evaporated as if snuffed out, leaving only the prickling tension.

"Yes," Nymor responded dryly, his voice laced with amusement, though I could sense the edge beneath it. 

He remained seated, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as they flicked between the intruders. 

Yoren and Maric's laughter returned, momentarily dispelling the tension like a wave washing over the room, a weak attempt to restore the lightness that had been so abruptly shattered.

"Your father sent us," Helaena added softly, her voice a contrast to her brother's. 

She was gentler, always was, and there was something kind in her gaze as it lingered on me, as though she understood more than she let on. But it wasn't me she was looking at with that subtle interest—I noticed her gaze flicker toward Nymor. 

Her fascination was evident, and despite the current tension, I couldn't help but wonder how deep her interest ran.

"If you're too busy entertaining others, we can leave," Aemond interjected, his voice sharp, dripping with venom that cut through the air like a blade. 

His words were pointed, but his eye, his gaze—it was all on me. 

There was no mistaking the jealousy simmering beneath his composed exterior, the barely concealed possessiveness that rippled through his voice.

Nymor stiffened beside me, his usual easy-going demeanour darkening as he rose to his full height. 

"Are you insinuating something about my sister?" His voice was low, but it seethed with barely-contained fury, his eyes locked onto Aemond's with a promise of violence. 

The room, which had been buzzing with life only moments ago, now felt like a powder keg ready to explode.

Aegon, sensing the rising tension, looked thoroughly amused by it all, his smirk widening as if he was eager to see where this was going. 

But before things could escalate further, Helaena tugged him by the arm, pulling him back with a roll of her eyes, her patience clearly worn thin.

"We should go," she said firmly, dragging a protesting Aegon along with her. He looked disappointed as if the potential for a brawl had been the highlight of his day, but he allowed himself to be led out. 

Still, his laughter echoed faintly down the corridor as the door swung shut behind them.

Yoren and Maric quickly exchanged glances before quietly standing and shuffling out of the room. They knew better than to stick around for what was coming. 

Now it was just the three of us.

Aemond didn't move. His gaze, as cold and unrelenting as the winter winds, remained fixed on Nymor. 

"Perhaps I am insinuating something," Aemond said, his tone calm but laced with challenge, his body language as unmoving as stone.

In one swift motion, Nymor stepped forward, his fists clenched at his sides, barely containing the storm of anger that radiated off him. 

"You have no right to talk about her," he growled, jabbing a finger hard into Aemond's chest. His voice was low, dangerous—a warning that he was inches away from losing control.

Aemond stood his ground, his expression unreadable, though the glint in his eye gave away his satisfaction at having provoked Nymor. 

It was a power play, and Aemond was revelling in it. The room crackled with unspoken tension, each man daring the other to make the next move.

"You think you can speak about my sister like that and get away with it?" Nymor spat, stepping closer until they were nearly nose to nose. 

His breath came in shallow, angry bursts, and for a moment, I feared the restraint he had would snap.

Aemond tilted his head slightly, a lazy shrug rolling off his shoulders, his expression barely shifting. 

"I speak the truth as I see it," he said coolly. "If you can't handle it, that's your weakness."

Nymor's fist clenched tighter, his knuckles white as his rage spilt over. "The truth?" he repeated, his voice rising with the heat of his anger. 

"You don't know the first thing about her." His words dripped with venom, and I could feel the tide of the moment shifting into something dangerous.

Aemond's jaw tightened at that, the mask of indifference slipping for the briefest second. His voice was a quiet, lethal whisper as he leaned in, a dark smirk playing on his lips. 

"Careful, Nymor. You're speaking to the rider of the largest dragon in the Seven Kingdoms." His words were soft, but the threat beneath them was unmistakable.

In an instant, Nymor's hand shot out, grabbing Aemond by the collar and yanking him forward so their faces were mere inches apart. 

"Say one more word about her," Nymor hissed through clenched teeth, his grip on Aemond's collar unyielding, "and I'll—"

"Enough!" My voice rang out, sharp and commanding, cutting through the tension like a blade. 

Both men froze, their eyes snapping toward me as I stepped forward, my expression a mix of frustration and steely authority. 

"Nymor, let him go." My words held a weight that neither of them could ignore.

For a moment, Nymor hesitated, his grip still tight on Aemond's collar, his eyes burning with a fury that demanded release. But when he met my gaze, something shifted. 

Slowly, reluctantly, he released Aemond, shoving him back with a frustrated grunt.

"You're not helping me by losing control like this," I said, my tone gentler now but still firm. "Leave us. I need to speak to him alone."

Nymor's eyes flicked between me and Aemond, a muscle in his jaw working as though he was about to protest. 

"He doesn't deserve your time, let alone your words," he muttered darkly, but after a tense moment, he relented. 

His hand twitched at his side as if itching to throw another punch, but he stepped away, turning toward the door with one last icy glare at Aemond.

"But if he says one more thing—" Nymor started, his voice taut with barely contained rage.

"I'll handle it," I cut in, my tone softening just enough to calm him. "You know I can."

Nymor lingered a moment longer, his fists still clenched, before giving a terse nod. He cast one final look at Aemond, filled with simmering fury, before storming out of the room. 

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the now-silent room.

For a long moment, silence hung between us, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. 

Aemond's smirk returned, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eye as if he was weighing the moment carefully.

"You didn't need to send him away on my account," he said, his voice low and drawling, though the amusement in his tone didn't quite reach his eyes. "I can handle Nymor."

I stepped closer, my face impassive, carefully concealing the turmoil roiling within me. "This isn't about you 'handling' anyone," I said evenly, keeping my voice steady, controlled. "It's about knowing when to stop."

His smirk faltered. "Is that what you think? That I don't know when to stop?"

I met his gaze, holding it with unwavering strength. "You're pushing him because you want a reaction. But we both know this isn't about Nymor." 

My voice softened, but there was still a sharp edge beneath the words. "So tell me, Aemond—what is it you really want?"

For the briefest moment, his expression shifted, and I saw the cracks in the carefully constructed façade he always wore. 

The arrogance he wore like armour seemed to drain away, leaving something raw and vulnerable in its place. His jaw tightened, but the biting retort I expected never came. I

Instead, he hesitated, searching my face as though the answer might be written there.

"I want you," he finally whispered, his voice strained like the admission had cost him something. 

The air between us felt impossibly heavy as the words settled like a stone in my chest. He took a step closer, and I could feel the weight of his confession pressing against my resolve.

I stayed silent, letting the moment stretch, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how his words affected me. 

But when his hand lifted to cup my face, his touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down my spine despite my best efforts to remain composed.

"You are unlike anyone I've ever met," he murmured, his voice intense, each word deliberate. "Fierce, determined... utterly captivating." 

His gaze held mine, and for the first time, I saw something genuine in his eyes, something that unsettled me more than his usual cold confidence. "I cannot imagine my life with anyone but you. You've become part of me, consumed my thoughts, my every moment."

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep breathing, to keep standing. His words were heavy, laden with meaning, with the kind of vulnerability I had never expected from him. 

For a moment, I almost faltered—almost let myself believe in the possibility he was offering. But I knew better than to surrender so easily.

Slowly, I reached up, my hand wrapping around his wrist, and I gently pulled his hand away from my face. 

"Aemond," I began, my voice steady but tinged with something darker, something deeper. "How am I supposed to forget who you are? How do I ignore the history between our families, the blood that stains your name?"

His eyes widened, clearly taken aback by my words. This was a part of me I had never revealed to him, a truth I had buried deep but could no longer keep hidden. 

I had been raised with the stories of what his family had done, the destruction they had brought upon my people, my home.

He stared at me, the shock plain on his face. It was as if he hadn't expected me to hold onto the past, to care about it in the face of his feelings. But how could I not?

"I don't want to conquer anything but your heart," he said softly, stepping closer again, his voice almost pleading now. "I don't care about power or politics when it comes to us. I just want you. That night we spent in the gardens..." 

His voice trailed off, the memory lingering between us like a ghost. "It's all I've thought about since. I don't want it to be the last."

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady the storm raging inside me. 

His sincerity was undeniable, and I could feel the weight of his words pulling me in, making it harder to keep the distance I so desperately needed.

"Our fathers are already discussing the match," I said quietly, forcing myself to focus on the practicalities, on the things that kept me grounded in reality. "The alliances they hope to build through us—"

"Your father won't force it," Aemond interrupted, his voice urgent. "Not if you don't want it." 

His tone softened, and for the first time, there was a vulnerability there, a rawness that caught me off guard. "But say yes. Say you'll choose me."

I turned away, unable to look at him. The weight of what he was asking felt like it might crush me. 

"If I say yes, I have to give up everything," I whispered, my voice barely holding steady. "My home, my family, everything I know. I would have to leave my father, my brother, my people... for a life in a city that will never truly be mine."

He exhaled slowly, the realization sinking in. I felt him move closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "But you would have me. We could build something—something that's ours."

I turned back to face him, my gaze locking onto his. 

"At what cost, Aemond?" My voice was quiet, but the question rang out like a challenge. "Do you really believe love can erase everything that stands between us? Can it undo the scars of history, the blood spilt by your ancestors?"

Aemond's eye searched mine, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to still. 

It felt like the weight of every decision we would ever make hung in the balance, suspended in the thick air between us.

"I need time," I finally said, the words escaping before I could stop them. His expression shifted, the hope in his eyes dimming, but he didn't interrupt. "This is too much, Aemond. You may be certain of what you want, but I..."

I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. I didn't have the luxury of being as sure as he was, and the stakes were far higher for me. "I need time," I repeated, my voice firm but quieter.

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Aemond's jaw clenched, his frustration evident, but he didn't push. He just stood there, watching me, waiting for something I wasn't ready to give.

"I can't stay here," I whispered, turning toward the door, feeling the pull of escape. 

My heart pounded in my chest, torn between the desire to stay and the need to flee, to buy myself more time.

Aemond took a step forward, his hand reaching out as if to stop me. "You don't have to leave," he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "We can figure this out."

I forced a weak smile, meeting his gaze one last time. "I can't. Not right now."

He nodded slowly, the flicker of hope in his eyes dimming to a quiet resignation. "I'll wait," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll wait as long as it takes."

I hesitated at the door, my hand hovering over the handle. 

Part of me wanted to turn back, to offer him something—anything—that might ease the tension between us. But the weight of history, of what he was asking, was too much to bear.

"I'll think about it," I said, my voice steady again. "But I can't make any promises."

With that, I slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind me. The second I was alone in the hallway, I released a shaky breath, the tension that had been building inside me finally breaking free. 

My heart was racing, my thoughts a whirlwind of emotions I couldn't quite untangle.

I walked quickly, the echo of my footsteps the only sound in the silent corridor. The farther I got from Aemond, the more the reality of what had just happened sank in. 

He had laid everything bare, but I couldn't forget what stood between us—our families, our histories, the sacrifices I would have to make.

When I reached the courtyard, I stopped, letting the cool night air wash over me, soothing the storm inside. I looked up at the stars, wondering how I had ended up here, torn between what I wanted and what I knew.

Could I really give up everything for him? Could I trust him, trust us, enough to believe that love could conquer the scars of the past? I didn't know.

All I knew was that I needed time. Time to think, to weigh the future that Aemond was offering against the life I had always known.

The air bit at my skin and my thoughts drifted to Alaric. The ease, the simplicity of being with him was tempting—a familiar escape from the whirlwind that Aemond stirred inside me. 

With Alaric, everything had always been so... uncomplicated. No deep questions. No heavy expectations. 

Just the physical release that dulled the ache, numbed the confusion. I knew if I went to him now, he wouldn't ask why. He wouldn't ask for anything at all.

For a fleeting moment, I considered it. The thought of his hands, the distraction, the way he could make me forget for just a little while. 

It would be so easy to lose myself in him again, to drown out the impossible choice looming over me. But then, a sharp pang twisted in my chest, and I stopped in my tracks. 

What would that solve? A night of pretending, of running, wouldn't change the fact that my heart was caught somewhere else—caught between the impossible pull of Aemond and the weight of everything I was supposed to be. 

Alaric might help me forget for a night, but the reality of my choices would still be waiting for me in the morning.

I sighed the decision settling over me like a heavy cloak. I couldn't hide from this, no matter how much I wanted to. 

With one last glance at the stars, I turned away from the direction of Alaric's chambers and instead headed back toward the shadows, alone with my thoughts, and the uncertainty that lingered like a storm on the horizon.

There was no running from this—not anymore.

A/n - Not as slow as I would like but we are nearing the end and I need their relationship to pick up a bit x

Enchanted tag list - @mamawiggers1980 @shilphy87 @esposadomd @targaryendestiel @deepeststarlightmoon

@thebirdandthebee @queen-of-elves @believeinthefireflies95

[naffeclipse]

Chapter 2: Swaying Fire and Embracing Moonlight

FNAF Familiar!Sun/Moon x Witch!Y/N (SFW)

Pushing your shoulders back and lifting your head higher, you look on with renewed credence. You are not alone. You travel the road toward the fields and the village with your two familiars flanking your sides. Your good deed will receive punishment, rebuke, and rejection, but it will not tighten as a rope around your neck nor cut your side with a butcher’s blade. The grace of the demons you call your own will spare you.

Word Count: 9,500 Warnings: Anxiety and insecurity.

A/N: Surprise! It's a little continuation of the Halloween fic in February! I was plagued by musings for this AU and so I have returned with this. Please note that I have updated the rating to Mature. Also, chapter updates will be slow, so please have patience. Thank you! ♥

[xvysarene]

𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕝

Pairing: Sylus x Fem!Reader Words: ~3.1k Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Eventual fluff Notice: Y/N is not MC, Profanities, Mentions of wounds Summary: There was a connection between you and Sylus that went beyond the typical boss & his right-hand woman dynamic. When you finally had enough of his recent behaviour since his return, you decided it was time to quit.

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

“We agree to your terms, and as soon as we finish the down payment, we expect to see the firearms—”

Before you could even finish, the heavy double doors swung open with a crash. Sylus strode in, a dark aura clinging to him, and you knew that nothing good would come out of it.

“The deal is off.”

You gasped. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

“Ms. Y/N, I thought you said you could handle this deal solo?” Marcel—that cunning eel of a man—drawled lazily. “Looks like Mr. Sylus here still doubts your ability, even after all this time.”

On any other day, you would have knocked the smug grin off Marcel’s face. But your attention was fixed on your boss, Sylus, whose expression was a cold, impenetrable mask of indifference.

“I’ve worked on this for months. Alone. When you were gone chasing shadows,” you hissed, “You have no right to dictate me.”

Crimson eyes met your gaze with a fire of his own as he stepped closer. “And do I need to remind you who’s the leader of this organisation?”

How dare he!

It took a while for the others in the N109 Zone to stop belittling you, to finally trust you as Onychinus’s indispensable weapon who could hold her own ground, even entrusted to run the organisation in his absence.

And he knew this.

“I don’t meddle in your affairs, so stay out of mine.”

He exactly knew what, or who, you were talking about.

Somehow, this conversation was no longer about the deal; it was about something else that had been creating a rift between you both.

“You don’t understand—”

“You have no idea what I understand!” you snapped, jabbing a finger at his firm chest.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Luke entering the room to usher Marcel out.

“If you’re looking for a new job, my organisation is always open for a pretty little thing, buttercup.” He threw a mischievous wink your way.

The man was clearly not uncomfortable with the commotion; it was satisfying to see Onychinus crumbling before his own eyes.

Kieran cautiously stepped forward. “Boss, Y/N, let’s take a moment—”

“You think I wouldn't find out about your little escapade with ‘Miss Hunter’?”

That struck a nerve; Sylus’s eyes narrowed. 

“What?” you continued, your tone dripping with sarcasm, “Mephisto accidentally charged your card with millions just to buy every single protocore in the auction?”

Any heartfelt emotion you held for him was swallowed by fury and disappointment that had been building for some time. This was the last straw, a volcano ready to erupt.

“I’ve warned you before, Sylus.”

Ever since he came back from doing who knew what, he had been distracted. Physically, he was there—but he wasn't present.

Conversations that once flowed easily between you were now peppered by half-hearted responses.

As a last resort, you decided to prepare dinner for him and the twins that one night, something you periodically did when the mood struck, in the hopes of getting him to come around.

Luke and Kieran were happily munching on the lasagna and sipping wine from Sylus’s favourite bottle, their lively chatter filling up the dining room.

But the man who was supposed to be the centre of it all took only a single bite before abandoning it for his phone.

“Sylus, could you please put your phone down and enjoy the dinner?”

The twins froze, eyes flickering between the two of you, sensing the impending storm.

Yet Sylus didn’t even acknowledge you, his attention firmly fixed on the screen in his hand. Somehow, it was more important than the company around him.

“Sylus—”

“Can you get off my back for once?” Red eyes snapped to yours, flashing with irritation.

“You are losing me,” you repeated the words you had uttered that night. The tremble in your voice was a blend of rage and a deeper, more vulnerable feeling.

Sylus's eyes flashed, revealing the first hint of emotion that you recognised—a wounded look, perhaps, or something else that you didn’t dare to think about.

Kieran, determined to defuse the tension, squared his shoulders. “We all should take a breather and approach this with clearer heads.”

Eyes still fixed on your boss’s handsome face, the words came out with unwavering finality, “I quit.”

Ripping the brooch from where it rested just above your heart, you hurled it with such force that it bounced off his chest before skidding across the floor.

The sharp, unmistakable crack echoed throughout the silent room.

Sylus's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “Fine.”

And that was it. There were no apologies, not even a 'thank you' for your dedication to Onychinus all this time.

“Please, don't do this. We need you,” Kieran’s voice had a note of desperation in it.

A bitter laugh slipped from your lips. “Your boss has made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t need me anymore. Apparently, he has more pressing matters than ensuring the organisation's interest.”

Sylus crossed his arms, his voice cutting like a cold knife. “If you're going to leave, then leave. We don't have time for theatrics.”

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Luke, having just returned from escorting Marcel out, caught sight of the unexpectedly angry tears in your eyes and called out your name as you rushed down the hallway.

What you didn’t expect from quitting was the depth of void it created in your life. You missed the twins’ oddball humour and even found yourself longing for Mephisto’s often irritating caws.

It felt strange not to see the black bird outside of your bedroom window or atop the lamppost, as it normally would.

Despite the financial cushion provided by Onychinus’s paycheck, restlessness drove you back to the N109 Zone before long.

“Thought that we’d never see you again, missy.”

The familiar surroundings of Elysium provided a soothing balm to the loneliness gnawing inside you—the rich scent of aged booze mingled with the sound of rolling dice filling your senses.

“You’re not the only one surprised,” you muttered lowly, sitting down on one of the stools.

“Guess you are more used to staying here than Linkon now,” the young woman behind the bar chuckled. “Many might see it as a slum, but the N109 Zone has its charm.”

During Sylus’s absence, you had called the base as a second home. Staying there made it easier for you to manage the daily operation, sparing you the hassle of travelling back and forth to Linkon.

“What would you like to drink? It’s on the house.” Before you could answer, the woman beat you to it. “Rum and lemonade?”

A sudden feeling of yearning washed over you. It was Sylus who had first introduced you to this concoction right here, you had even questioned his taste at the time, but it had since become one of your favourite drinks.

You gulped the emotion down. “Yes, please.”

She sent you a sympathetic smile, obviously understanding what crossed your mind.

The burn of the rum started to warm your body as the second glass went down easily. Each sip brought back memories of standing side by side in battles and conversations shared in quieter moments, a foolish longing that settled deep within your chest. 

As you set it aside, you felt someone slid on the vacant stool beside you, encroaching on your personal space.

“What’s a pretty girl doing here all alone?”

“Leave me alone.” You didn’t even look at his direction.

Funnily enough, though you normally no longer felt the weight of the brooch—a symbol of your affiliation with Sylus and Onychinus—you now felt its absence vividly, like a phantom heaviness above your left breast.

With it, no one ever truly dared to come near you, wary of crossing paths with Sylus.

Without it, however, meant you were no longer under Sylus’s protection.

The man sidled closer, clearly not taking the hint. “Still playing hard to get even without Sylus behind you? You should have seen him dragged out of the raid like a ragdoll by his pair of thugs. It was pathetic.”

Your heart stuttered, finally looking at the man beside you. “What did you say?” 

Sylus, hurt? It was unthinkable. You had seen first-hand how his wound healed quickly.

“Heh, you really don’t know, do you?” His smile widened, revealing yellowed teeth. “The idiot went to finish Marcel off by himself last night. Imagine taking down dozens of Marcel’s men alone, with all their weapons.”

He daringly placed a hand on your thigh, fingers digging in. “So bitch, you’d better get off your damn high horse and listen. Without Sylus, you’re just another pretty face.”

In a quick manoeuvre, you slammed his head on the bar. His painful howl was cut short as you drew your concealed gun, the barrel pressed firmly against the back of his skull. “Touch me one more time and I’ll paint this bar with your brains.”

The barkeeper approached, her expression impassive as she took in the sight of your gun pressing against the man's head. However, when she noticed the colour draining from your face, a look of surprise crossed her features.

“You didn’t know?” she asked, her tone softer than you expected. “I thought that was the reason you came back here.”

Ignoring the curious stares of the other patrons, you stormed out of the bar, the weight of fear heavy on your shoulders.

The city's familiar streets blurred past as you made your way to the base, and you thought you heard familiar caws in the distance.

You didn't spare a second thought as the electronic lock still buzzed with recognision when your palm and iris scans were verified. The reinforced doors opened, granting you access just like usual.

Luke and Kieran met you in the hallway, no doubt alerted to your arrival. Whether by Mephisto or the security alert, you weren’t sure.

Even with their masks on, their surprised body language was unmistakable.

“How did you find out? Boss made sure that none of us tips you off,” Luke asked.

“It’s true?” you demanded, your voice was tight with anxiety. “About Sylus?”

The twins exchanged silent glances. “He’s in his quarters,” Kieran said slowly. “But be warned, he is in a foul mood.”

As you moved swiftly down the familiar corridors, your heart pounded in your chest. The smell of antiseptic hit your senses as you slid the door open, revealing the dimly lit room.

Sylus was seated on the edge of the bed, his back to you as he changed his bandages. “I told you guys to leave me alone. I’m fine,” his voice gruff.

You took a steadying breath. “Sylus.”

His silhouette tensed, and the set of his shoulders turned rigid. Slowly, he turned to look at you.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was rough.

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat. The sight of bandages covering his injuries made it difficult to articulate your thoughts. “Why did you go after Marcel?”

“This isn’t a place for someone like you right now.”

That comment was odd, but you dismissed it as you crossed the room, closing the gap between you. Up close, you could see the bruises and wounds peppering his body—dark, angry splotches that marred his skin, evidence of the brutality inflicted by Marcel’s men.

While the healing process was slower than usual, it was still significantly faster than it would be for an ordinary person.

You had been working with him for quite some time yet you had never before seen him in such a state.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, catching your concerned gaze.

“You don’t look fine,” you said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere until you explain what happened.”

Sylus shifted on the bed, wincing slightly as he rested his back on the headboard. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke, “Marcel was the one behind the bombing of the hunter’s grandma’s house.”

As much as you felt sorry for the UNICORN hunter, you couldn’t understand why he would put his life on the line for her.

Was it because of the connection they had with the Aether Core? Or was it something else?

Unconsciously, your steps faltered backwards. The anxiety for his well-being took a backseat as the grip of jealousy clawed at you.

It was stupid to feel this way.

Suddenly, you felt rooted to the spot, your body freezing in place. The unexpected use of his Evol caught you off guard. 

“You came all the way here, so you’d better damn well listen to me before jumping to any conclusions.”

Even in his weakened state, he managed to pull you back to the edge of the bed and keep you seated there. He wasn’t close enough to touch, but not so far that you couldn’t see the fatigue etched into his features.

“I kept her around because she was useful. Marcel had been trying to frame Onychinus for the bombing.” His fists clenched, knuckles white. “But that wasn’t what set me off, that scumbag had been running his mouth about you, spreading lies of your incompetence, claiming that you’re nothing more than an empty shell.”

You looked at his injuries pointedly. “You took on his entire army because he taunted me?”

He sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. “Don’t you see? I was the one feeding him that narrative. He had the front seat to everything that happened that day. I’m the one who unravelled the respect you worked so hard to earn.”

Was that a hint of guilt you heard in his voice?

“He’d been saying that you’d be better suited working in a whorehouse.”

Well, that explained the man's aggressiveness back at the bar, you thought.

“I’m not your responsibility anymore, you don’t need to protect me.”

Sylus looked away. Despite his rough edges, there was a glint of raw, exposed emotion that he struggled to conceal.

“It’s not just about responsibility,” his voice low, “Some things... they’re not as simple as just walking away.”

This was the Sylus you recognised—the same man who, in fleeting moments, had looked at you with an intensity or a softness that spoke of unfulfilled longing.

Everything had shifted since that one kiss, an impulsive act born from an evening of too much drink and unspoken feelings. A kiss that, in its haze, blurred the lines between what was accepted and what was desired.

Yet, every subtle brush of his hands, every act of ensuring your safety, was a quiet rebellion against the boundaries he had set from the start—this was not a place where work and pleasure were meant to mingle.

“That was the reason you called the deal off that day.” You fit the puzzles together.

He nodded. “I had a feeling that he was up to something.”

“And yet, I still don’t understand why you had to go behind my back with the hunter. This”—you gestured to his injuries and the distance between you—“could’ve been prevented.”

You tried to mask the hurt. “I thought you trusted me.”

Sylus shifted closer, and even though you felt that his Evol no longer held you in place, you allowed him.

“It wasn’t about trust, not in the way you think,” his voice was softer now, “If he found out you were involved, I couldn’t risk him coming after you.”

“I don’t need your protection as much as I need your honesty. And you were being a jerk.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I just wanted to keep you safe.”

He reached out, his fingers gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Leaning in closer, he cradled your jaw with a careful touch.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat at the intensity in his eyes that he didn’t try to mask any longer. “For caring. But I’d rather not see you get hurt again.”

“Can’t promise,” he murmured, “I will always stand between you and anyone who dares to harm you.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath before his lips touched yours, moving in a gentle, unhurried rhythm.

He wanted to savour this moment, to truly taste you with a clear head, unclouded by any alcohol.

Though, before long, a more primal voice seemed to overtake him. The intensity of the kiss grew, fueled by the unfiltered emotions coursing between you.

It was a fierce, unrestrained need to claim you.

No longer feeling tender, his tongue urged your lips open with a determined persistence. Sylus groaned into your mouth as you parted easily, the need to taste you becoming more urgent.

As he took a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back, your gaze locked with the searing flame in his eyes.

A sudden weight pressed against your neck, and you looked down, startled, to find a crow whose wings arched protectively around a red diamond pendant. It was similar to the brooch he had given you, but this was more than an accessory.

It was more personal—more intimate.

“Will you do me the honour of becoming my partner again?” His voice was husky with emotion. “Onychinus needs you. I need you.”

Carefully, you pushed him down the bed, legs spreading daringly caging his form. “Maybe if you beg a little more, I’ll consider it.” 

Both his eyebrows arched in surprise, visibly taken aback by your boldness.

“But, weren’t we supposed to keep work and pleasure separate?” you teased.

A hint of a smirk curled at the edges of his lips. “I’m the boss. I make the rules. Besides, this is more than just a pleasure.”

His large palms settled on your hips, fingers splaying across the curve of your body with a possessive yet tender grip, pulling you closer.

“Can I start by begging you to kiss my wounds and make them better then?”

As he whispered his request, his masculine hands sneaked their way inside your clothes, fingers trailing a line of fire against your skin. Just as the moment heated up, a rustling noise came from outside the door.

The two of you paused, eyes narrowing with suspicion. 

Suddenly, the door creaked open just a fraction. Before either of you could react, Luke and Kieran let out a startled yelp.

“Oh no! They’re doing the hanky panky!” Luke whispered loudly, scandalised.

In a flurry of hurried movements, the twins slammed the door closed and bolted down the hallway, leaving you both staring after them in stunned silence.

Sylus sighed, hiding his face in the soft bend of your neck. “We’ll definitely have to set some new rules about privacy too.”

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

[shotmrmiller]

extension to this

simon sits inside the vehicle he's rented right outside a quaint, little coffee shop. your last letter sits, folded and crinkled in his breast pocket, the very reason why he's even here.

there's nothing much to say to you, pen acquaintance. the semester's over in a week, which means that this will be the last you hear of me. i'd wish you luck in whatever task your superior assigns you, but i don't want to. adieu, british man. i won't miss your piss-poor humor and doctor's scribble. p.s. my eyes are permanently crossed from having to decipher every letter of yours.

unacceptable.

he pulls back his sleeve, looking down at the scuffed sports watch that adorns his inked wrist. 10:35 a.m. simon steps out of the car hastily, not even bothering to lock it. the chilly breeze nips at the tips of his ears as he jogs to the cafe door and holds it open.

for you.

"after you, love." his mancunian accent thicker than normal on his tongue. how pretty you are in person, almost a dream come true. you turn to thank him, and he watches your captivating eyes zero in on the glinting metal of his dog tags resting on the breadth of his chest. how quickly your grateful smile sours. he suddenly feels too hot, vision tunneling to your set brow and hardened gaze.

"right. thanks."

with a quick pace, you pass him by, your bag bumping into his thigh, yet you don't bother to look back. so brilliantly unapologetic. his pulse races as excitement thrums through his veins. simon is quick to follow, coming to stand directly behind you and your group of friends with his clenched hands in his pockets, pretending to read the drink menu above your head.

when you order, he grimaces behind his medical mask. all these endless choices for coffee, yet you choose to drink some blended ice mistake, with far too much whipped cream and imitation chocolate syrup poured on top. simon'll teach you to drink tea— preferably back in england where the leaves grow best.

he steps forward, around the vultures that surround you, and tells the barista that he'll pay for your drink. "just hers?" he asks.

"tha's wha' i said, innit?"

simon extends his hand to the barista, plastic between your fingers when you call out to him. "hey."

a mischievous grin tugs at the corners of his mouth as he turns to meet your gaze, unable to contain his amusement.

"what about my friends?" his dark eyes cut to their direction, before wandering back to you.

"wha' about 'em?" he goads.

he can practically see smoke furling from your mouth, a miasma of fury; tastes it in the air— a blend of salt and fire.

there you are. vicious little spitfire.

simon lets you bubble with indignation for a brief moment until he shifts his attention back to the person behind the counter, who's been watching the exchange with mild interest. "theirs too, then. since she asked me so nicely."

his chest rumbles with laughter upon hearing your irked hiss at his comment.

[ange1heavensent]

━ In the Backseat ━

Pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

Content Warning: +18 content, minors do not interact, teasing, making out, fingering (r! receiving)

w/c ≈ 1100

It was one of those sweltering afternoons where the heat seemed to wrap itself around everything, suffocating and sticky. The sun was merciless, shining down on the street like it was trying to set the asphalt on fire. Abby had gone out for her usual workout, and you decided to do something to surprise her when she got back, wash her truck. After all, she’d been complaining about how filthy it was, and you couldn’t deny that it needed some love.

You stood in the driveway, hose in hand, wearing a simple tank top and cut-off shorts, the kind you knew Abby loved. You figured you might as well have a little fun with it. You started with the basics, spraying the car down with water, watching as the droplets clung to the hot metal before sliding down in perfect little streams. It was relaxing, therapeutic almost, until you saw Abby come jogging towards the house earlier than expected. 

“Hey, babe,” she called out, her usual cocky smirk tugging at her lips. Sweat glistened on her skin from the workout, and her grey tank top clung to her muscled frame. The sight of her was always enough to make your heart race. "You're early," you teased, biting your lip as you watched her approach. Abby looked like she was about to grab you and kiss you senseless, and you knew that look all too well. "Couldn't stay away from you," she said, her voice low as she eyed you up and down, clearly appreciating your outfit, or lack thereof.

You grinned mischievously and made a show of bending over to reach the bucket of soapy water, knowing her eyes were glued to you. You dipped the sponge into the suds and started scrubbing the hood, arching your back a little more than necessary. Abby’s sharp intake of breath made you feel powerful.

"You enjoying the view?" you asked, glancing at her from over your shoulder with a smirk.

Abby crossed her arms, leaning against the side of the truck, her gaze dark and hungry. "You know I am." You chuckled, giving the sponge a slow, deliberate squeeze, letting the soapy water cascade over your hands, down your arms, and onto your chest. The water soaked through your tank top, clinging to your skin and making the fabric almost see-through. You could feel Abby’s eyes burning into you.

You turned, watching her as she eyed the now-glistening surface of the truck. “You know,” she started, voice dropping an octave, “you missed a spot.” Her hand landed on the trunk, but her eyes never left yours.

“Oh, did I?” you asked innocently, stepping closer to her, your chest almost brushing against hers.

Abby’s hand came up, cupping your chin gently as she leaned down, her breath hot against your lips. “Yeah,” she whispered, voice thick with desire. “Right here.”

Before you could say anything else, Abby was on you, closing the distance between you both in a matter of seconds. Her large hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against her as her mouth crashed onto yours in a heated, possessive kiss. The truck was forgotten; the heat outside was nothing compared to the heat building between you two.

Abby broke the kiss, her breath hot against your lips as she spoke, her voice rough. "Get in the backseat. Now." Your pulse quickened as you obeyed, excitement thrumming through your veins. You opened the door and climbed into the backseat, the smell of leather filling your senses. Abby followed close behind, shutting the door with a thud.

You barely had time to sit before Abby was on you again, her hands roaming your body with urgency. She lifted your soaked tank top over your head and discarded it on the floor, her lips immediately finding the sensitive skin of your neck. You moaned softly, arching into her as her hands slid down to your shorts, unbuttoning them with ease.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" she growled against your skin, her hands slipping beneath your shorts, fingers brushing against your already soaked panties. You gasped, gripping the leather seat as her fingers teased you through the thin fabric. "Abby, please," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

She didn’t need to be told twice. Abby yanked your shorts down. Before you could process it, her fingers were slipping past the waistband of your panties, finding your wetness. You moaned louder this time, your head falling back against the seat as she started to rub at your clit. "You're so wet for me," she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "You want me to fuck you, don’t you?"

"Yes," you whimpered, your body trembling under her touch. "Please, Abby."

Her lips curled into a smirk against your skin, and without hesitation, she pushed two fingers inside you, stretching you in the way only she knew how. You gasped, clutching her biceps for support as she began to move, slow at first, teasing, until the rhythm built and built, and your body was arching into her, craving more.

Abby’s thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles as she fucked you harder, the sounds of your moans and the wet, slick noise of her fingers moving inside you filling the tight space of the truck. Your legs trembled, your whole body on fire as she drove you closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck, Abby-" you panted, barely able to form coherent thoughts as pleasure wracked your body.

"Cum for me, babe," she murmured, her voice commanding yet tender, her lips brushing over your ear. 

That was all you needed. With a loud cry, your body convulsed, the wave of your orgasm crashing over you as Abby continued to fuck you through it, her fingers relentless and perfect. You could barely catch your breath, trembling in the aftermath as she finally slowed, pulling her fingers from you and watching with dark, satisfied eyes as you came down from your high.

She kissed you deeply, her tongue sliding against yours as if she wanted to claim every part of you. When she pulled back, her lips were curved into a cocky grin. “You put on one hell of a show,” she teased, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You laughed breathlessly, leaning back against the seat, your body spent but satisfied. “Seemed like you enjoyed it.”

“Oh, I did,” Abby said, her voice low and dangerous. “But next time, I’m washing the car. Let’s see how you handle that.” You smirked, already imagining what would happen when it was her turn to tease you.

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Thank you for reading! If you liked this fic, check out my masterlist for more :)

[sunboki]

— MR. FIREFIGHTER.

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. firefighter! au, neighbors! au, coincidences, power outage.. hehe

WARNINGS. cursing? chan being a firefighter bc HELLO

AUG'S NOTES. hi hi, ya’ll wanted more firefighter! chris? me too i gotcha

In a neighborhood like yours, power outages were common. But of course, with your luck just moving here, nobody paid any mind telling you.

Perhaps that’s the best explanation as to how you ended up at a strangers doorstep, your phone’s flashlight making the entire experience look a thousand times more pathetic the longer you shifted from foot to foot.

You’d been plugging in your charger, only for your entire bedroom to fall pitch black. Initially, you assumed it was simply a broker malfunction, leading to—after carefully hobbling out to the garage—a multitude of failed attempts to ensue.

About halfway from leaving does the front door open, and upon turning around are you met with a sight pitifully breathtaking.

Blond, messy hair rests atop a well sculpted face, masculine features on tanned skin, dark chocolate eyes belonging to that of the finest sweets.

“Hello?” He asks, voice thick with an accent you deem Australian.

“Oh yeah uh, the.. the power?” Winding your index around haphazardly, the man looks you up and down (an action that shouldn’t have brought such blood to your face), glancing around and wetting his lips before inviting you inside.

Sure, he may be a serial killer, but if that man strangled you, you’re not sure you’d be too upset. Shameless, but who disagreed?

Without a word nor greeting, he slinks into a small kitchen area, leaving you to curiously investigate your surroundings. You note the huge, beige boots by the doorway, the firefighter’s hat lingering on a coat hook.

And he’s a firefighter? Good fuck have mercy.

“‘Happens a lot,” The frustratingly attractive stranger grumbles as you enter the living area, candle-light illuminating the plushness of his lips. It takes you a moment to register he’s talking, too busy reigning yourself into a sane headspace.

He hands you a small mug of tea that’s warm to the touch, beckoning you to take a seat.

“And by the looks of it,” He laughs a low, bemused laugh. “You didn’t know that…?”

“Y/n, it’s Y/n.” You introduce, sipping the steaming beverage carefully.

“Scared?”

“Mm, little bit.” Truthfully answering, you scorn your bashfulness, hating how the way he’s merely looking at you disorients every sensible article of your brain.

Reaching forward, he fondly pats your head, eyes crinkling in the corners when smiling.

Just then you abandon all hope of remaining civilized.

“There’s nothin’ to be scared of, just light some candles ‘n wait it out. Plus, it’s good sleeping conditions.”

If he keeps talking you’re certain you’ll dig a human sized hole and bury yourself in it, because of course you had to knock on his door, him who you’ve become smitten with without even knowing his name.

Before you can apologize for likely waking him up, he interjects.

“But be careful with candles. ‘Don’t wanna start a fire.”

Recalling his firefighter status, you raise your brows, leaning back into the cushions.

“You’d save me, right Mr. Firefighter?”

Momentarily, surprise etches his face.

He grins.

“Nah I’d—”

You smack his arm and he laughs—a kind of laugh that makes the entire room burst alight.

“Of course I would. And It’s Chan by the way, but you can call me Chris.”

Already getting comfortable with conversation, you rest your chin upon your hand, studying.

His mannerisms (as much as his looks could kill) are rather adorable. They’re nervous, fiddling opposed to the career he chose.

A man with a deadly duality.

Charming.

“Oh? Nickname privileges?” You mischievously pique, witnessing that shyness once more.

He covers his face with his hands, dissolving into the couch, evidently embarrassed. The urge to continue becoming irresistible.

“Say, Chris, are you flirting with me?”

Peering through his fingers, Chris’ lips pull tug upward slightly, seeming to mirror your sly attitude.

“I don’t know, am I?”

Perhaps it’s your imagination, but his voice seriously just lowered a pitch and all ability to bite back has turned to dust. And now you can certainly say your feelings are justified, especially from his eyes. Brown hues boring into you, sending your heart a thundering mess.

No, no no, don’t say that. That’s not fair.

As if on cue the lights flash awake and you spring up from your place, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks.

Barely making it out the door before Chris pulls you back around, his hand loosely grasps your wrist, stuffing a piece of paper into your palm adorning that same stupid smile you’re effortlessly falling in love with.

Inside his number is written, and more than ever you feel like a teenage girl passing notes to her boyfriend in class.

“Just in case,” He claimed, clearing his throat as if that would magically cure his noticeably pink ears.

Take it back, you’re both teenage losers fighting to see who cracks first. Nervous wrecks, red faces.

“In case my house burns down?”

“That’s a plus, yep.”

“You’re awful.”

Chris, walking you up to your door despite being a mere foot away, giggles his delight, bidding you good night. But seconds before he turns around it’s your turn to be spontaneous, and you press a soft kiss to his cheek prior to racing inside, shutting the door as quickly as possible.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

Covering your mouth with your hands in order to suppress the utter squeal threatening to break your lungs, you feel seconds from physically imploding — ignorant to the fact that outside the door, Chris is currently doing the same thing.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

Jack-o'-lanterns have such a grab bag of lore, i love it

Fire, of course, has a long history of offering protection from evil forces. During the Celtic festival of Samhain (from which many Halloween traditions originate), the veil between worlds was considered thin, and ritual bonfires reminded the spooks to stay on their side of the lane.

Many a lantern has protected the lonely traveler on a dark moonless night. But lanterns can be dangerous too—especially the supernatural ones. in certain folklore 'jack-o'-lantern' was another name for will-o'-the-wisps, atmospheric ghost lights (or as legend has it, lost souls) that appear above bogs and lure unwise wanderers into sinkholes.

Then there's the 18th cent Irish folktale of Stingy Jack, a mischievous fellow who tricked the Devil twice, exacting a promise that hell would never claim his soul. So Jack goes on his cheerful way, and dies (as humans are prone to do), and ends up at the pearly gates. Now Heaven, it turns out, doesn't want a damn thing to do with him. So Jack jaunts on down and goes knocking on the gates of hell—only to have Satan slam the door in his face! How this leads to Stingy Jack being doomed to wander the earth carrying a hollowed out rutabaga lit by an ember of the flames of hell, I couldn't tell you. But that is how the story goes.

Whether the legend of Stingy Jack inspired or fueled or was created-by the gourd-carving practice, by the 19th cent, Irish, Scottish, and Welsh alike were annually carving jack-o'-lanterns out of turnips & rutabaga & beets & potatoes, and lighting them up to ward off Jack and other wandering spirits. Immigrants carried the tradition to North America, where pumpkins were indigenous and much easier to carve.

And so the modern Jack-o'-Lantern was born!

Not that gourd lanterns were anything new. Metalwork was expensive, after all, and gourds worked as-well-as and better-than-most crops when it came to carving a poor farmer's lantern.

As for carving human faces into vegetables, that supposedly goes back thousands of years in certain Celtic cultures. It may even have evolved from head veneration, or been used to represent the severed skulls of enemies defeated in battle. Or maybe not! Like many human traditions, jack-o'-lanterns evolved over multiple eras and cultures and regions, in some ways we can trace and others we can only guess at. But at the end of the day, it makes a damn good story, and a spooky way to celebrate—which is as good a reason as any (and a better reason than most!) to keep a tradition going.

In conclusion: happy spooky season, and remind me to tell yall about plastered human skulls one of these days 🎃

srcs 1, 2, 3

[planetaryupscaled]

The Bet

Male OC x Tzuyu

Tags: 1k, smut

The story is not ours; we simply alter the original story to our preferred settings.

Tzuyu was sitting in the deserted communal lounge, her face buried in a book. She wasn’t, technically, hiding. That would have gone against the rules.

She was just getting some alone time without all those hands running aimlessly over her body, fingertips trailing her figure and peering beneath her garments, lips and teeth caressing and nibbling every inch of her skin...

Her cheeks flushed, and she felt scorching hot in the oversized sweatshirt she was wearing. She bit her lip and sighed.

The words on the page she had been reading and re-reading for the last ten minutes without really understanding the meaning blurred, as she became engrossed in her thoughts once more, still puzzled as to how she had gotten up in that situation.

A shy, prudish, inexperienced freshman like her was playing with fire. Or worse, with the rampaging hormones of a bunch of college boys.

She made a lighthearted, drunken mistake, but she was paying its price with her body and no end in sight.

Betting with her buddies while inebriated sounded innocuous, and she was confident it wasn’t anything they were going to follow up on anyhow.

But she was wrong - dreadfully wrong.

It was all a game in her eyes. And she was pretty sure she was going to win at the time. But she lost, and the guys eagerly demanded their prize.

She had turned into a real-life sex doll for them: she had to let them touch her body, grab, and grope her as they liked, and offer herself whenever they wanted.

This was her retribution for being so irresponsible and stupid. Worst of all, she was beginning to like it, even though she would never say it out loud.

She had been feeling so dirty and depraved. Tzuyu had only had one previous boyfriend, her high school beau, and she’d never experienced sex or pleasure.

And now, whenever a hand reached for her, a small bolt of electricity would rip through her body, giving her shivers and stealing her breath. Being forcefully exposed in front of others was humiliating, but it gave her sensations she had never expected to feel.

Even though the guilt and shame were eating at her, her body was sending her new signals and feelings that she had never experienced before.

She was drawn sharply back to reality when she was pulled back by her hair.

Electricity coursed through her as she saw two dark eyes upside down, mischievously staring at her.

“Did you plan on staying hidden for much longer? We were worried by your sudden disappearance...” Hyeon inquired, keeping her head tilted and caressing her throat.

His fingertips were ice cold, but her skin felt like it was burning under his touch.

“I had to study. You know, exams...” she mumbled, while he played with the sweatshirt zip, loosening it. His hand crept under, reaching for the bra.

Hyeon cupped his hand around her breast and began massaging it. He let her hair go and did the same with the other hand.

“I see,” he said quietly, “then go ahead and read. I’ll help myself.”

Her vision blurred when he gently pinched and twisted her nipples. She was embarrassed by who she had become, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop it. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to put a stop to it.

Tzuyu sighed as she felt a twitch in her womb. She closed her eyes and leaned against Hyeon’s body, allowing him easier access to her. Against her neck, she could feel already the bulge in his pants.

She blushed again, both from her thoughts and from his gentle touch on her skin. She could feel she was getting wet.

Hyeon drew his hands away from her sweatshirt after what seemed like an eternity. As he leaned over her, he reached for her skirt. He unceremoniously lifted it, revealing her underwear. He slid the fabric to the side, A light touch on her labia made her moan.

“You’re such a slut Tzuyu, you’re already wet...” he chuckled as he gently stroked her.

He pushed two fingers into her warmth, provoking her another moan. She held her breath and widened her eyes as she grabbed his wrist with both hands.

Jisung and Suho were sitting on the desk on both her sides; she hadn’t noticed their presence. They were stroking their erections through their shorts while enjoying the little show.

They laughed as she violently blushed and tried to cover herself. Jisung smiled, bending over to grab her cheeks and kiss her, pushing his tongue into her mouth and sucking her lips.

“Come on baby, stand up,” Hyeon said, pulling his fingers out of her and grabbing her arms.

He pushed her against the desk, ignoring her weak protests and whining. Her hair covered her face completely, blocking her view. She could hear the other two guys unzipping their shorts and the light clank of their belts hitting the ground.

Several hands caressed her skin and lifted her clothes to reveal her body. Someone took her wrists and pressed them against her back.

As fingers grabbed the hem of her undies and pulled them off, she bit her lower lip and held her breath.

A hand caressed and squeezed her buttocks, followed by a slap. As she tried to wiggle out from underneath the guy who was blocking her, she was hit with a harder slap that took her breath away.

“Stop squirming or you’ll hurt yourself,” Jisung said, pulling her head up by her hair. Her gaze met his as she groaned beneath his hands. He kissed her once more, firmly holding her head. While Jisung’s tongue was playing with hers, someone gently rubbed his sex on hers. He pushed his way through her soaked labia and inside. Her moans got lost in Jisung’s mouth, which was still devouring her lips.

The third person let go of her wrists and grabbed one of her hands, pressing it against his erection.

Tzuyu noticed it was Suho masturbating with her hand. She gave in to his grip, wrapping her fingers around his hardness and letting him guide her. Jisung let her mouth and head go, and Hyeon grabbed her by the hair, pushing his length deep into her.

Jisung then kneeled on the desk and presented her with his member, stroking it on her cheek, and lips. She disclosed them and welcomed him, clasping her semi-closed eyes in his as he entered her warm mouth slowly. Hyeon’s tight grip on her head guided her rhythm as her tongue twisted around his girth.

It was the first time they pulled something like that on her, she had never been taken by more than one person at the same time.

Tzuyu thoughts were clouded by pleasure.

With each thrust in her mouth or sex, electricity scurried through her entire body. Her desperate, rising moans were suffocated in her mouth.

Hyeon let go of her hair, which was replaced by Jisung’s grip, and groaning sank his fingers into the soft skin of her hips.

She tilted her head, her senses dulled and inebriated, as they both went faster and deeper. Shivers ran down her spine, and a tingling warmth propagated through her like wild, uncontrollable waves.

Hyeon came into her depths and collapsed on her back. His skin was warm and sweaty, his breathing heavy.

Then it was Jisung’s turn, who came into her mouth, pressing her head against his groin while his throbs slowed and he softened, slipping off her lips.

Suho let go of her hand and rushed for her.

He rolled her over, moved her to the edge of the desk, and positioned himself directly above her head.

Then bent over her and plunged his erection into her mouth.

Tzuyu grasped his thighs, overwhelmed, her mind empty of all but bliss.

One of the guys parted her legs and buried his face in her, holding on to her knees.

Two hands completely unzipped her sweatshirt and reached for her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples.

She was totally helpless, which really just heightened her arousal. Her body was stiffening and twitching as tension built up within her.

The guy eating her, bit her labia, ascending to the clit, then circled it with his tongue, first gently caressing it, then with frantic strokes that left her screaming and squirming under his mouth. He firmly gripped her thighs, lapping and sucking her and pushing her over the edge.

When she thought she couldn’t bear it any longer, he slid two fingers into her, moving them slowly.

Her orgasm burst violently, her back arched, and every inch of her body shivered, pervaded by a tickling ecstasy that released her tension.

Suho came soon after, filling her mouth once again.

She stopped shaking after a good minute or two. She could feel her heart rate lowering, but she kept her eyes closed.

She was feeling warm and fuzzy. She didn’t want to face yet the actuality of what had just occurred.

The three guys were busy pulling up their pants and composing themselves.

to meet the three pleased stares. Tzuyu quickly shut her legs and tried to put back her hoodie, embarrassed.

Jisung seized her hands and held her back.

“Don’t bother covering, cutie; no one else is here. Even if that were the case, anyone would have adored the show.” He reached for her mouth and kissed her.

“When is this prize thing going to end?” she sighed, as she sat on the desk.

“Oh, you don’t like it?” Suho joked as he buckled his belt. “ You seemed to be having a good time two minutes ago.”

She blushed again, looking away.

“It will end when we unanimously decide that the payback for the lost bet is adequate, obviously. And I’m sure tonight at least a couple of gentlemen will be interested in discussing with you what just happened, so don’t go and hide again,” Hyeon added.

He gave her a wry grin and a nonchalant nod before heading out of the room, followed by Jisung and Suho.

Tzuyu was alone again.

The sun had begun to set, and the communal lounge was getting darker.

She retrieved her underwear and put it on.

Her mind was a whirlwind of feelings and thoughts. She was heated and out of breath. She couldn’t understand why she would enjoy the whole bet and prize thing; it was so wicked and dirty. It wasn’t like her, to do things like this, but she couldn’t bring herself to end it.

Tzuyu knew she could demand they stop at any point, and if they refused, she could simply go talk to the student representative. They’d be in big trouble.

But perhaps she just didn’t want it to stop.

She sat at the desk, her head buried in the soft sleeves, until it was completely dark, with just the streetlamps from outside shedding some light on the walls through the large windows.

She took a deep breath and smiled, wondering who would be the first to take her that evening.

[slu7formen]

luke castellan x fem!reader

You knew that your friend, Luke, was a tease. What you didn’t expect, was that he was going to be a tease to you.

while I finish writing part two of this story (btw, thank u so much for all the love it’s getting) , I drop this one out here for the wait <3

warnings: teasing, praising, drinking, kinda s3xual tension

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

The bonfire crackled merrily, casting flickering shadows on the faces of the demigods huddled around it. The air thrummed with the low beat of stolen music from a borrowed radio, a symphony of laughter and easy conversation punctuated by the clinking of ice inside your plastic cups. Exhaustion from a particularly harrowing week of monster attacks had finally settled in, driving the older campers to this clandestine revelry deep within the safe haven of the camp's woods.

Across from you, Clarisse was emerged in a play-fight with his brothers, not truly a good idea based on the drunken state they were in, but who would tell them otherwise? Travis and Connor were huddled together, their whispers punctuated by bursts of laughter that hinted at some upcoming evil plan or prank. You could practically see the gears turning in their heads. Silena leaned towards Katie’s ear, whispering some secret that boys couldn’t know about, her voice barely a murmur.

And Luke Castellan sat next to you, his presence warm and familiar. His profile bathed in the golden glow. You'd known him for years, a bond forged in shared battles and late-night training sessions. But lately, you'd begun to see him in a different light. The way his muscles tensed beneath his t-shirt as he tossed another log onto the fire, the glint in his dark eyes - it all sent a delicious flutter to your stomach.

Reaching for your empty plastic cup, you realized with a groan that you'd polished off your cranberry juice and vodka concoction. Glancing sideways at Luke, you noticed his cup held a suspicious-looking red liquid that gave off a pungent, almost medicinal smell. "Let me have a sip of yours" you declared, leaning towards him without even questioning.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. Your cheeks, flushed from the alcohol and the warmth of the fire, were undeniably red. Your lips, slightly puffy and wet, was not something his eyes would miss either. But he'd never admit the effect you had on him, not here, not amongst their friends.

"Not sure that's your thing, doll" he pointed out, looking down at his drink for a second. "You won´t like it"

You knew you were pushing your luck, but the defiance simmering in your blood, thanks to the vodka, wouldn't be ignored. "Come on, Luke" you pout, placing your chin on his shoulder. “If you can drink it, why can´t I?”

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "I don't think you can handle it" he said with a little smirk on his face, the playful challenge in his eyes impossible to miss. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way he was looking at you, but a spark of competitive spirit ignited within you.

“Oh, yeah?” you challenged. “Just watch me, then” you declared, snatching the cup from his hand before he could protest. You were so sure of yourself. The liquid was a fiery red, the strong scent even more potent up close. You took a tentative sip.

It was horrible.

It was like drinking liquid fire infused with cough syrup. A strangled cough escaped your lips, your eyes watering. Luke chuckled slightly. You sputtered, almost spitting the liquid out in disgust.

Before you could fully react, Luke's hand cupped your chin, surprisingly gentle despite the rough calluses that adorned his palm. His eyes held a mischievous sparkle. "Take it all down now, you told me you could handle it"

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way his words sent a thrill down your spine, but you were determined not to back down, especially not in front of him. Fueled by a mix of pride, the burn of the liquid fire, and a strange flutter in your stomach thanks to Luke's closeness, you took another swig, then another, determined to finish it. You ignored the way your throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper and the fire that seemed to erupt in your gut.

Suddenly, a loud "Chug! Chug! Chug!" broke the silence. Travis and Connor, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, started a rhythmic chant. Silena and Katie soon joined in, their cheers echoing through the clearing. You choked down the rest of the concoction, gasping for air as it burned its fiery path down your throat.

The cheers reached a crescendo as you slumped back, eyes squeezed shut, your head swimming. As the commotion subsided, you dropped the plastic cup with a clatter. You felt dizzy, and your throat felt like someone had lined it with sandpaper, but a sense of accomplishment washed over you. You'd done it.

Suddenly, a gentle touch on your chin startled you. You blinked your eyes open to see Luke leaning in, his gaze holding a playful spark. With his thumb, he brushed away a stray droplet of the red liquid that had escaped your lips during your valiant chugging endeavor.

The simple gesture sent a jolt through you. It was so unexpected that your breath hitched in your throat. Then, in a move that stole the air from your lungs completely, he lifted his thumb to his lips and sucked off the red droplet. Eyes on yours, the whole time.

"Good girl" he murmured.

He turned away then, casually rejoining the conversation with Chris about their upcoming training session. But you couldn't tear your gaze from him. The playful glint in his eyes, the lingering warmth on your chin from his touch – it all played on repeat in your mind.

Gods, you thought, your head swimming from a potent mix of alcohol and newfound desire. You really wanted to be anywhere else right now. Anywhere with him, away from the prying eyes and teasing laughter of your friends. You felt crazy in the matter of just a few seconds. You couldn´t let this slide, you just couldn´t.

You couldn´t deny the wet patch on your panties either.

You stood up, maybe a little too fast for the state you were in, but you managed to look down to Luke, who was already looking into your eyes the moment you stood up.

“I´m going for a walk. Care to join me?”

inspired by this right here, with a little change <3

[smutrotsmybraincells]

Caught [Eddie Diaz x reader NSFW]

It was your day off today, but you still decided to show up at the station, wanting to spend some time with your friends as they all had a shift today. When you walked in, you could hear the voices coming from upstairs, they were probably all eating something Bobby cooked. You walked past one of the fire engines not noticing your boyfriend who was putting some stuff in the back of one of them. You made it up two stairs before Eddie's strong arms gripped your waist and pulled you towards him. 

"Wha- Eddie!" You let out, turning your head to look at him. You smacked his arm playfully. 

"Hey," he grinned, letting you turn around in his arms. His eyes roamed your body, noticing the tank top and skirt you had on. He raised an eyebrow at you, because you usually never wore skirts, always complaining that they're stupid and one blow of wind away from you flashing everyone. 

"What's up with the skirt?" He asked, finally hugging you. You giggled into his shoulder.

"Ah, nothing," You mumbled, hiding your face in his neck. He hummed, his hands moving from your back down to your ass. You felt the exact second he realized you had no underwear under your skirt. 

"Y/N," he groaned, hiding his face in your hair. You looked into his eyes, grinning mischievously. 

"Ed-" his lips were on yours before you could say his name. He lifted you off the ground and carried you towards the fire engine, opening the door but not climbing in. He put you down, sat on the stairs of the engine, and looked at you expectantly. When you tried to sit on his lap he moved one of his legs and pulled you down, so you were now on his thigh. You let out a surprised sound that turned into a quiet moan when he adjusted his thigh. The fabric of his pants was rough against your center, making you move your hips trying to get some friction without realizing. 

"Eddie, someone could see us," you said, your voice shaking with want. 

"Let them." He grabbed your hips, helping you grind on his thigh slowly. You leaned forward, kissing him to keep yourself from letting out loud moans. Eddie kissed you back, knowing this was the only way to keep you quiet. 

"I-" you moaned louder than before, feeling the heat inside of you growing. Eddie smirked and reached down to lift your skirt so he could see your wet pussy grinding on his pants, leaving a dark wet spot that kept only getting bigger on his pants. 

"C'mon baby, cum for me," he mumbled, his eyes not leaving the spot where you met his thigh. You bit your lip to keep yourself from screaming his name, your head falling back. You opened your eyes for a second, almost falling off of Eddie, but his grip on the side of your waist kept you steady. 

"Eds-" you whined, which turned his attention from your pussy to where you were looking. And there, leaning against the railing looking down at you stood Buck. 

"Cum for me Y/N," Eddie said, keeping his eyes on his best friend. You groaned and whined as you finally came all over his pants, soaking them in even more of your juices. Your whole body was shaking as you came down from the high. You could still feel Buck's eyes on you as Eddie slowly lifted you to your feet. 

"We got caught," you mumbled. Eddie grinned. 

"Yes we did baby," he helped you to get to your car, as he knew you wouldn't want to go up to the rest of the team after this. Just as you sat down in your car the alarm rang through the firehouse, making Eddie curse. 

"Go, I'll sit here until I'm capable of driving," you said pushing him away from you when you saw him deciding if he should stay here with you or actually go out to the call with the others. He rolled his eyes but turned around and ran into the building, grabbing his stuff and quickly getting into the fire engine with the others. 

What you didn't see were the questioning looks he got inside the engine as Hen and Chim spotted the wet spot on his thigh. 

"I, uh, I spilled a drink on myself, didn't have time to change before the alarm," he said. Hen laughed at him, Chim rolled his eyes mumbling something under his breath. He didn't see Bobby's reaction as he couldn't see him from where he was sitting. What he did see though, was Buck's smirk as he looked from the wet spot on his thigh to his eyes. 

"A drink, huh?"

[draconic-desire]

DD’s Yandere Poll Series: Surviving the Yan!Penacony Boys (based on this post)

Rules/warnings: Read the below scenario and pick your answer or comment your own reaction. Dark content ahead!

Incident #2 — The Wager

Aventurine knows your angry footsteps from a mile away as you shove your way through the Penaconian casino and straight to his table.

He has plenty of time to react, but he sits back in bemused silence as you slap his hand, sending aces and spades flying across the table and fluttering to the floor.

You are livid. Aventurine cannot help but chuckle at your adorable expressions as he begins to concoct a plan. After all, emotional betters tend to be reckless.

“Damn, and that was a good hand, too.”

You grit your teeth at his lackadaisical dismissal. “Screw your game. Are you going to tell me why there were IPC goons posted outside my apartment yet again this morning?”

He folds his hands and tilts his head innocently, a smirk painting his lips. “You assume I had something to do with that?”

“Don’t play dumb!” The rein on your temper is hanging on by a thread. You take a deep breath to reset yourself, then place both palms on the table to brace yourself. “What do you want?”

By this point, the others at the table have enough common sense to flee, leaving the two of you alone. The sounds of the slot machines and cheers of the casino-goers echo through the charged atmosphere between you.

“Darling, I think I’ve made that painstakingly obvious.” Before you can react, he grips one of your wrists and pulls you down so you are leaning across the table, face inches from his own. He runs a gloved finger along your cheek, licking his bottom lip. “Have you finally come to concede?”

You narrow your eyes but do not struggle—yet. “You fucking wish.”

“Such a filthy mouth,” he drawls, much to your chagrin. “If not to acquiesce to my desires, then what brings your lovely presence here? Care to take a seat?” He motions, of course, to his lap.

You inhale sharply and speak before you lose your courage, temper, or both. “I want to make a wager with you.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly; you’ve either surprised or excited him. Neither bode well for you.

“One game. We both know what we want from it.”

“Ah ah, I’ll need some clarification as to what I’m actually betting on,” Aventurine teases as he begins to reassemble the deck of cards, all while maintaining your eye contact.

Aeons, he’s actually going to make you spell it out. “I win, I get my out from you and the IPC. I get to leave Penacony and never look back. If I lose…” Your throat collapses for a moment before you spit out, “You win me.”

Aventurine releases you, leaning back in his chair. He grabs the newly formed deck of cards and begins shuffling. “I accept. But, since I have more to lose here—” You begin to protest, but he quickly tuts you into silence, “I will be the one choosing the game. Deal?” He extends his hand, golden rings glinting. You think you can hear the tick tick tick of his watch, counting down to your end.

You look over his expression, his body language, the smug smile. He’s hiding his ace, you can tell, but what choice do you have?

Slowly, you sink into the seat across from him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs, reeling his hand in with an exaggerated pout. “In that case, we’ll be playing Maverick.”

Your accelerated heartbeat calms ever so slightly. That’s one game you’ve heard of. A game of pure luck rather than skill. You can work with that.

“The rules are simple.” He lays two cards, face down, in front of you. “Your goal is to guess a number that falls within these two cards. If you’re in the correct range? You walk out of this casino and never see me ever again.”

Your heart soars, but quickly falters when you spot the mischievous glint in his irises. “But, if you’re wrong and your number falls outside…” His thumb and index finger form the shape of a pistol, which he pretends to fire into your heart with a dramatic bang.

“Your heart is mine.”

No backing down.

He gestures between you and the cards, prompting you ahead. That smirk never falters.

Glancing between the two cards, you go with your gut. Defiantly holding his breathtaking blue and pink gaze, you speak aloud your favorite single digit number.

Aventurine hums and flips both cards simultaneously.

Two king of spades stare back at you mockingly.

“Looks like I win.”

[7s3ven]

HELL-FIRE. luke (pjo) - pt 1

PART 1 > PART 2 (in progress)

IN WHICH… Y/N doesn’t want to admit it, but perhaps she and the mischievous son of Hermes have more in common than she originally thought.

“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. I see my reflection in your eyes.”

Warnings : mentions of abuse

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

—

The cold water lapped at Y/N’s shoulders as she sank into the tub placed strategically in the corner of the empty cabin.

Life as a forbidden kid was hard. You had no siblings and everybody was expecting you to do grand things. A small sigh slipped past Y/N’s lips as the water heated up until it was at a temperature that almost scolded her skin. Perhaps it was because Hades, the king of the Underworld, was her father but Y/N always found herself fascinated by fire. She loved to watch the blue, orange, and yellow flames flicker in the dim darkness.

It wasn’t until her arrival at Camp Half-Blood did it all make sense. Y/N, the daughter of Hades, was able to control fire. Though, she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it. It all came in random bursts and every time she walked along the crisp green grass, a trail of brightly lit flames slithered after her.

The Demeter kids hated her for ruining the plush red roses that took them weeks to nurture. Y/N could understand their fury and she did her best to avoid their plants now, especially because her fire favoured the taste of Demeter’s flowers.

A quiet knock on the wooden door interrupted Y/N’s peace. She slowly rose from the water, droplets running down her finger tips. She slowly dried herself with a soft cotton towel before slipping her bright orange shirt over her head. She slid on a pair of loosely fitting pants before turning the knob, harshly pulling the door open.

“Do you need something?” Y/N asked, frowning at the small kid in front of her. He trembled and took a nervous step back.

“Luke… he… he told me to give this to you.” The kid stretched out his hand, practically shaking as Y/N stared down at the dark red rose. A lousy gift in her opinion.

Luke was the son of Hermes and the head counsellor of his cabin. He was popular amongst the campers and girls constantly swooned over him. Y/N, on the other hand, had no interest in romance. It had always been that way ever since she was born.

Y/N was conceived into this cruel world with a cold and empty heart. Her mother thought of it as a personality disorder at first until she realized that it was just how Y/N was. No amount of love forced into her arms could change the deep anger boiling inside of her.

Y/N took the rose, peering at it and scowling. “You’ve done your job. Scram.” She shooed the young Hermes kid away, almost shoving him off her rickety wooden porch. She caught sight of Luke watching her through the clean window of his own cabin.

He had never shown much interest in her before until a year ago, where we witnessed her easily take down some of the best fighters in camp.

He grinned at her, a gesture that should have made her heart flutter. But it didn’t. Y/N silently stared at him, feeling the sudden heat rush to her fingers. She lit the rose alight and it didn’t take long until only a few crisp and blackened petals remained in her grasp.

She quickly dropped them, scattering the remains of the once beautiful flower everywhere. It acted as a constant reminder that no matter how hard Luke tried, she was simply immune to his charm.

It’s not like Y/N didn’t want to love, because she did. She saw the Aphrodite kids treating Valentine’s Day like it was some big festivals. And she noticed how many of the boys in the Apollo cabin always had their eyes glued to one of the Athena girls.

They looked at her like she was a pile of treasure; like a precious jewel. They stared at her with such admiration and adoration that Y/N felt a little jealous. How come she couldn’t love while others could?

It was probably because of the darkness lurking within her, feasting away at every small spark of happiness until it was gone, resting in the belly of the beast. Anger, jealousy, and hatred consumed her easily. And she was bitter because of it.

It was pitch black by the time Y/N collapsed on her soft mattress. She was clad in shorts and a black crop top to battle the humid weather during Summer. She was half asleep when a quiet tap and rattle woke her.

Y/N quietly groaned. She knew who was waiting by her window, wearing a spare camp t-shirt and dusty grey shorts that stopped above his knees. His tapping become quicker and sharper until Y/N had no choice but to fling the window open.

“What?” She hissed at Luke.

He always came at the same time every night. Twelve o’clock sharp in hopes of wooing her. Y/N wasn’t stupid, she knew he was after something else that wasn’t romance related but until she figured out what, she wasn’t comfortable being alone in his presence.

Luke simply smiled, resting his chin on the sill. “Walk with me?” He questioned, jabbing a thumb over his right shoulder.

“It’s past curfew.” Y/N sharply retorted, glowering at him. Beams of moonlight shone down on the pair, acting as if the world were a stage that needed to be lit. Y/N could clearly see Luke tilt his head to the side, gazing up at her through his lashes.

“It’ll be quick.” He was persistent as always.

“What part of not interested confuses you?” Y/N threw the covers back over her body, prepared to crash her head against her feathered pillow and let her eyes flutter shut.

"One walk and I'll stop annoying you for a week."

That made Y/N pause. She stared at Luke, narrowing her eyes. A week wasn't long but it was better than putting up with his presence constantly. "Okay." She slowly said, causing Luke to victoriously grin. He pumped his fist.

"If we get caught, you have to take the blame." Y/N warned Luke as she stepped out of her cabin, pointing sternly at him. He wrapped a lock of her H/C hair around his finger, standing too close to comfort.

"I'd take every blame for you." He whispered, playfully winking. Y/N rolled her eyes in reply.

"I'd let you rot in a ditch." She pushed him away, storming down the stairs of the small porch. He clicked his tongue, eyes glazing over her movements. He jogged to catch up with her, his hand brushing against her leg.

The slight breeze surrounded the two of them as Y/N glanced up at the shining stars, her eyes darting around to spot all the different constellations. Luke followed her gaze, arching an eyebrow.

"What are you staring at?" He asked, licking his chapped lips. Y/N's eyes darted to look at him before she rolled her eyes, not saying anything.

"Can't you take a hint to be quiet?" She muttered after a minute of painful silence.

"No, I can. It's a choice to annoy you." He slyly smiled, bumping Y/N with his hip. She scoffed, shoving her hand into his face.

The crickets chirped loudly as Y/N walked past them, Luke following close behind. The air was colder now and Y/N relished the feeling of it against her skin. She almost forgot the son of Hermes was with her before he cleared his throat.

"No fire following behind us?" He questioned. He was used to the flames that often licked at Y/N's ankles but never dared burn her.

"That would get us caught." Y/N retorted. She faltered for a second, "Me, I mean. It would get me caught."

Luke lowly chuckled. "Nah, too late, Blaze. You said us. So there is something between us. And here I thought you only saw me as an obnoxious idiot."

Y/N sharply clicked her tongue, glaring at him. "Don't call me Blaze. And yes, I do see you as one."

"What would you prefer then? Conflagration? Inferno? Oh, what about Holocaust?"

"I didn't even know you knew those words." Y/N uttered, blankly staring at Luke. But Blaze was surely better than being called Holocaust.

"Blaze it is." Luke slung an arm around Y/N's shoulder, carefully testing the waters. The smell of burning flesh wafted through the air and Y/N quickly shrugged Luke's arm off, panicking slightly.

"Don't touch me." She said. It was supposed to be a harsh command but it came out as more of a desperate warning. Y/N's eyes darted to Luke's burnt skin. She scowled, at both his persistence to hold her and her inability to control her angry flames. It's not like she was actively trying to hurt people. It just... happened.

"I think it's time for you to leave." She said, her voice nothing more than a whisper. "Get your arm checked."

"It's late, no Apollo kid will be awake." His sizzling flesh didn't phase him in the slightest. He had dealt with worse, far worse. Like Clarisse's spear. "Besides, I like walking with you."

"At least soak your arm in water. It'll bring down the stinging sensation as well as protect it from risk of infection." Y/N was hesitant to even get near Luke, afraid of what her ability might do lest she lost control. But Luke was fearless. He'd grip her wrist a million times, even if it meant getting burnt, just to feel her skin against his.

He was like Icarus, unrelenting in his pursuit for greatness. He adored Y/N like Icarus loved the sun; too fast and too close. In a way, Y/N was death reincarnated. Pupils so big that it was unsettling, a glare so intense it could swallow you up, and a dark grace that followed her every move. Icarus died with broken wings but a fulfilled soul, just as Luke would if it meant he could hold Y/N.

Y/N led Luke towards a small pond and dipped her hand into the cool water. It started bubbling and Y/N instantly recoiled. Luke watched her, curious.

"Why do you do that?" He asked, gaining Y/N's wavering attention.

"Do what?" She muttered, furrowing her brows in confusion. Luke lightly chuckled, staring down at the rippling water.

"The fire thing. And heating up water. Why?"

Y/N shrugged. "It's not like I do it on purpose. It's random. Heating up water is easy enough but the flames are weird. I've tried spotting a pattern but I just can't see it." Y/N held up a finger, heat rushing to the tip. A flame flickered but it wasn't like her usual orange or blue ones. It was pink.

A light pink hue reflected off Luke's face as he peered at the fire, his eyes darting to follow its wild movements. He slowly dipped his charred arm into the water, grinning at Y/N who found slight amusement in playing with the pink flame.

"You ever think your flames follow your emotions?" He piped up, tilting his head to the side.

"Excuse me?"

"Your emotions. Maybe they control your fire." He shrugged, "Your flames are usually orange but when you get angry, which happens a lot, they turn blue. And the pink... I don't know. Love?"

Y/N sneered. "Love? Who would I be in love with?" It was a ridiculous suggestion. Stupid, even. Love didn't exist in Y/N L/N's world. Luke raised his brows, silently gesturing to himself. "I'd rather kiss a dragon."

Luke reached out to touch the flame and Y/N pulled away in a panic. "Don't!" She exclaimed, but Luke's hand was already waving through the fire. It didn't hurt in the slightest and Luke smiled. Y/N's whole hand exploded into pink-toned flames and she jumped, waving her hand around until the fire went out.

"Blaze... Do your emotions... scare you?" Luke asked. Y/N lightly scoffed, glaring at Luke as she always did. A flicker of blue glazed over her E/C eyes and then it was replaced with orange which quickly shifted into pink. And it finally returned to blue before disappearing as quickly as it came.

"Your eyes... they, uh..." Luke didn't know how to describe it. "Do they... somewhat flame up a lot?"

"Ignore that." She grumbled, shielding her face from Luke's hawk-like gaze.

"You intrigue me. Why do you act so bitter all the time, Y/N?" Luke questioned, clearing his throat. She paused, lightly biting down on her bottom lip. He didn't have room to judge because despite carrying around a kind and caring facade, Luke was just as mean as her underneath it all. Y/N just... didn't bother to hide it while Luke turned his head every time his eyes darkened or his lips curled into a disgusted sneer.

"I don't have a reason. Do you ever think that maybe I'm not acting and that I was born this way? Because I'm pretty sure I was."

"There's a reason for everything."

"Okay, you want to know why?!" Y/N exclaimed, fed up with all his questions and teasing. Luke calmly gestured her to continue.

"I hate them. I hate the deities above who call themselves our godly parents. They are just as fucked up as us, if not more. I mean, what were they thinking? Fucked up people give birth to fucked up kids. They underestimate us and abandon us and still think that we'll worship the ground they walk on. If I'm being honest, I don't think they love us. My father... Hades... he had an opportunity to save me from the abuse my mother was inflicting on me."

Luke's facial expression softened. His eyes locked with Y/N's angry ones and for a split second, he saw himself in her. A demigod desperate to prove themselves to their parent only to be disappointed.

"And you know what was worse? I saw him. I met him. He came to our house one day and I didn't know it was him in that moment but after I got here, it all made sense. The man who randomly showed up on the doorstep all those years ago and acted like he knew everything about me... was my father. The same man who dumped me in the horrible care of my mother. Hades, the supposedly only God who loved his half-blood child, actually abandoned her when he had the choice to take her with him."

"I get what you mean." Luke muttered, shifting closer to her. She didn't stop him. "I feel abandoned too. My dad, he did something similar. I agree with you when you say that the gods don't love us... because I don't think they do either. We're just... their pawns. You see this scar?"

Luke's finger trailed over the scar that adorned the side of his face. "My father... he gave me a quest that Hercules had already completed. I didn't want to do something someone else had already done but I thought, how hard could it be? And I failed it... I failed the quest. And some stupid dragon scratched me and gave me this scar."

"I don't get why they think we're expendable." Y/N's hands clenched into fists and she clicked her tongue. She turned to Luke, flinching at how close he was all of a sudden.

It all happened too quickly. One second Y/N's lips accidently brushed against Luke's and the next the whole field around the pond burst into a flood of pink flames. Y/N and Luke stood in front of Chiron, hands clasped behind them. Luke stared at the ground in shame while Y/N wasn't scared to look Chiron in the eye.

"You not only snuck out past curfew, which is breaking rules, but Miss Y/N, you also burned a fellow camper and set flames to the grass."

"Chiron, sneaking out past curfew was my idea." Luke, as promised, took responsibility for his actions. "And she can't control her fire and I provoked her so I deserved it anyway." Luke shrugged.

"That still doesn't excuse your behavior. I expect you to clean all the sword before the Ares kids mess them all up again."

Y/N scoffed under her breath. "This is all your fault. I can't believe I snuck out with you of all people." Y/N poked his shoulder and a small pink flame danced across his shirt before dissolving into thin air.

"Pink means love." Luke teased.

"I will burn you again." Y/N threatened, stomping on his foot.

"Hey, you wouldn't burn your ranting partner so soon, would you?" He grinned.

Y/N didn't want to admit it but she did share a lot of similarities with Luke. From their hatred for the gods to the feeling of being abandoned. "Talking with you wasn't entirely terrible." She muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Thanks, Blaze." He gently grasped her hand, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckle. Y/N jumped and everything went up in flames again. Literally. "Y/N... Y/N, you're on fire. You are on fire!" But it didn't hurt. The flames wrapped around her like a comforting blanket as Luke stared at her in both awe and confusion. "It's kinda cool actually. It looks like you're glowing." Luke chuckled while she glared at him, wildly trying to pat the pink fire out.

"Come on, just admit you like me, Blaze. Even just a little bit. You find me pretty, don't you?"

"I do not!" Y/N exclaimed, the flames growing stronger. Luke teasingly raised his brows, staring at her with a knowing smirk. She scoffed, spinning around.

"See ya later, Blaze!" Luke called out as she stormed away. She turned around, deeply scowling at him.

"Shut up!" She shouted, a glowing trail of fire following after her and burning its way through the grass. Campers squealed at the sight, jumping out of the way.

Luke chuckled to himself, watching when Y/N sneered at a young Apollo boy. "She's so cute." He muttered to himself, shaking his head in amusement.

From the window, Chiron sighed at the familiar sight of Y/N's fire. "She's getting stronger." He said, frowning.

"So? At least her pink flames are harmless, unlike her blue ones. And don't get me started on that huge blowup she had last year. I didn't even know black flames existed until she blew up! More like exploded!" Mr D scoffed, shivering at the memory of Y/N's black flames. It was like a massive bomb went off.

Chiron was silent for a moment until he looked at Mr D. "She likes Luke." He quickly said.

Mr D instantly sat up, slamming his hand against the table in front of him. "Oh, yeah, definitely! I started shipping those two ever since they started bickering. Catch up, Chiron!"

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[sykoangels]

movie star

paring: Rodrick Heffley x hyperfemme!reader

warnings: oral sex (f! Receiving) , sex tapeunprotected sex

author note: im literally in love with rodrick!!! sooo enjoy this is gonna be feeding my delusions unfortunately

Rodrick Heffley is a character to say the least he could be a bit bitchy, but he was crazy talented. He’s the frontman of the band Loaded Diper a band he created with his friends. Back in freshman year, he was holding auditions for a new guitarist due to the one he had moving overseas. You went to the audition and got in with flying colors. Rodrick wanted something different from the band and you had to look and the talent. Your aesthetic was very different from the rest of the band, but still leaned into the emo aesthetic as well, but not too far off that they would get called posers. You loved wearing fishnets and baby tees, especially ones with crazy sayings on them like “I heart men whimpering” or “#1 gaslighter.” The band was doing well, especially throughout high school but now you're a sophomore in college doing the band on the side for extra money well also studying music technology because you want to become a music producer.

But you were keeping a secret at least from the rest of your bandmates. You and Rodrick have been in a friends-with-benefits relationship for about six months. This came about after the winter tour had concluded. One minute you guys were talking at a Christmas party and the next minute you were bent over a dingy bathroom sink and some random college frat house. You didn’t mind this since you always thought Rodrick was very attractive. If you were honest with yourself, he fit every piece of criteria when it came to your romantic partner. Handsome, tall, musically inclined, and a bit pathetic looking he checked all the boxes. He wasn’t even bad at sex either. Maybe the rumor you heard about rockstars are right they’re really decent in bed. It was getting difficult to hide the friends with benefits relationship since now they are preparing for our summer tour, which means we’re constantly around our band mates each other 24/7 no breaks.

The air was thick with the scent of stale beer and sweat as the last chords of their set reverberated through the dimly lit club. The crowd roared, their voices a mix of excitement and exhaustion after a night of headbanging to Rodrick Heffley's band. You, the lead guitarist, felt the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, your fingers tingling from the rapid-fire strumming. As you stepped off the stage, Rodrick caught your eye from across the room. His smirk was mischievous, a silent acknowledgment of the secret that only the two of you shared. You made your way through the throng of fans and backstage hangers-on, your black micro mini skirt swishing against your thighs, fishnet stockings adding a touch of rebellion to your hyperfeminine style.

"Great set tonight," he said, his voice low as he pulled you into a corner, away from prying ears. "Always," you replied, smiling coyly. "But you know what would make it even better?"Rodrick leaned closer, his eyes dark with intrigue. "What's that?""A little after-party of our own," you whispered, your breath warm against his neck. His hand found yours, fingertips grazing softly. "I like the sound of that."

With a nod, you both knew the plan. You slipped out the back door, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat inside. He quickly made it to the van loading up the instruments before sending a quick text to the under bandmates saying that you didn’t feel good and that you were going back to his place to rest. You guys called a taxi and made it back to Rodrick’s place. The drive to his place was short, the city lights blurring past as you both lost yourselves in the moment.

Inside, the apartment was quiet, the usual clutter of instruments and band posters giving way to an intimate setting. Rodrick pressed you against the wall as soon as the door closed, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his band tee beneath your fingers.

"Wait," you murmured against his lips, pulling back slightly. "I need to remember this moment forever.”

Rodrick nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. You walked over to the camera set up on its tripod, a sly grin playing on your lips. Flicking it on, you adjusted the angle to capture the both of you perfectly. "Are you ready baby” he asked, his voice husky with desire. You turned to face him, your outfit a stark contrast against the darkness of the room. "More than ready," you breathed, your heart pounding in your chest. Rodrick closed the distance between you, his hands gentle as they cupped your face. His lips met yours again, this time with a tenderness that spoke of deeper emotions hidden beneath the surface. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the hardness of his body against yours. "You look so fucking pretty babe," he murmured, his gaze tracing every inch of your exposed skin.

"thank you baby" you whispered back, your fingers trailing down his chest to the button of his jeans. With a deft flick, you undid it, sliding the zipper down slowly, deliberately. Rodrick groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Fuck, I need you so bad," he muttered, his voice thick with lust. You smiled, a thrill running through you at his words. "Show me," you challenged, your eyes daring him to go further.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Rodrick lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the couch. The camera captured every moment, the lens focusing on your intertwined bodies with an unflinching gaze. Settling you down, Rodrick knelt between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. His hands were reverent as they explored your body, peeling away layers of clothing with careful precision. You gasped as his fingers found the edge of your panties, slipping beneath the delicate fabric to tease you.

"Rodrick," you whimpered, your head falling back as pleasure surged through you. "that’s it good girl" he hushed, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. "Let me hear you." You obeyed, biting your lip to stifle the sounds that threatened to escape. Rodrick’s mouth replaced his fingers, his tongue darting out to taste you, sending waves of sensation crashing over you. You gripped the cushions beneath you, your body arching towards him, seeking more.

"Fuck yes” you moaned, your voice breaking the silence. "Oh fuck yes " Rodrick chuckled, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "You like that, huh?" “ I love it oh fuck” you admitted, your eyes fluttering shut as he continued his ministrations. The camera watched silently, capturing your expressions of pleasure, the way your body writhed under Rodrick’s skillful touch. You could feel the heat building within you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until you thought you might explode.

"Rodrick," you cried out, your voice raw with need. "Please, I need—" He didn’t let you finish. Rising to his feet, Rodrick positioned himself above you, his eyes burning with desire. You reached for him, guiding him inside you, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity. You both shuddered, a symphony of sighs and moans filling the room as you moved together, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge."Look at you," Rodrick panted, his forehead resting against yours. "So thirsty for my fucking cock like some groupie whore”

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "yes your groupie whore," you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper. As the climax approached, the tension coiled tighter and tighter within you, until finally, it snapped. You cried out his name as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, your body convulsing with the force of your release. Rodrick followed soon after, his own cry mingling with yours as he spilled himself inside you, his body shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm. As the afterglow of their passionate encounter began to fade, you and Rodrick lay entangled on the couch, the camera still recording your every breath. The room was filled with a mixture of scents—the musky aroma of sweat mingled with the faint hint of your perfume, creating an intoxicating blend that seemed to encapsulate the intensity of the moment

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 19

Kinktober Masterlist aegri somnia - “troubled dreams” TF141 x f!reader Kinks > sex-pollen, gangbang, semipublic, corruption Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

You’re at a costume party on Halloween night on base with your team. The whole gang is there, and they sample something …strange… from the bar. The only cure for their fever? You.

Warning: drugged sex, dubcon, sex-pollen style scene, anal, vaginal, face fucking, some ghoap.

You were a kitty cat. Past tense. Now, you looked like a chimney sweep. This Halloween party had gotten way out of hand. The heating was cranked up to ninth-circle-of-Hell temperatures, and everyone was dancing, sweating, and getting completely fucking sloshed. 

Your whiskers and nose had long been rubbed away, and you’d lost the cat ears somewhere between the upstairs toilet and the sandpit volleyball game that the boys had set up in the basement. Two months of deadtime in the Urzikstani Green Zone had been great for morale but shit for discipline. Price was gonna be so pissed when he saw how Soap had painted the TAC-V like a big pumpkin. 

“You alright, love?” Gaz slurred, stumbling a bit before resting his arm around your shoulder, half-in and half-out of his own Paddington Bear getup. He still had the red hat, but the blue jacket was tied around his waist, and the matching shorts looked like little more than boxer briefs. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Parched. What’s that?” You pointed to his hand, jealous that he had a cold beverage. 

“Mm,” he took a sip and handed you the cup, “I dunno. Soap was passin’ it around. Orange, mysterious, probably lethal.”

“I’ll take my chances,” you laughed, downing the last sip.

“Speak of the devil…” Gaz nodded over to the makeshift bar.

There, on top of two stacks of crates, stood Soap, pouring his orange concoction right into Simon Riley’s open mouth. Soap was dressed in a little red devil outfit, complete with pitchfork, and Ghost was… well, he was just himself. The skeleton mask did the trick, you supposed. 

You shook your head, laughing at them, and Soap looked up to see you there. 

“Oy! C’mere, bonnie. Got somethin’ special for ya.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you grumbled, walking over to the bar with Gaz in tow.

Soap was crouched over in his tight red onesie, digging through an ice chest. He emerged with a wide, mischievous smile on his face and a bottle of eerie, murky liquid.

“Pinched this from Ale and Rudy when they were in last night. Probably that killer tequila he’s been on about. Didnae wanna try it by meself.”

He started to pour out four cups, and you turned your nose up at it,

“Oh, Jesus, Johnny. This smells like piss.”

“Quit your whingin’, lass. You’ve had worse things in your mouth,” he winked, downing his shot and wearing a twisted face of immediate regret.

“Suppose that’s right,” you shrugged, drinking down your own. 

It rushed through you like burning fire, and it made you feel like you’d been punched right in the jaw. 

“Holy fuck,” Simon coughed, “The hell is this, Johnny? Fuckin’ petrol?”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Gaz complained, trying to breathe slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth. 

“Ach! C’mon, it’s not that bad,” Johnny protested, going back for a second dose.

Suddenly, a husky voice came out of the darkness behind the crates, 

“What’s all this then?”

“Oh, hey, Cap’n,” Johnny tried to look normal. He failed, but at least he tried.

Price rolled his eyes, but he held out his cup and held it out to the sergeant,

“Go on, then. Give us a taste.”

You watched as Price took two big gulps, your own stomach turning from the memory, and gaped in amazement as he mostly controlled his expression. Show off.

You were already sweaty, but this tequila made you feel like you were going to burn right up. You wanted to move. The music was deafening, and even though you didn’t know this song, you begged Gaz for a dance. 

“C’mon! Just one.”

“Alright, love. But, you know I can never have just one,” he twirled you around, making you feel even drunker than you were, and led you out into the warehouse where Ghost had rigged his huge boombox to make a dance floor.

Everyone was dancing. Time was moving at an insane rate. Fast and slow, dilating in and out, and you were like a shadow, letting it pass right through you, drunk and high and everything in between. 

Soap and Ghost joined you, and Price watched on from the edge, smoking and looking a little red around his eyes. 

Suddenly, Gaz’s hands were on your hips, pulling you back into him, grinding you against his crotch.

“Hey,” you turned over your shoulder, “What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothin’, babes. Just dancin’. That alright?”

You nodded, smiling up at him, 

“Yeah, I guess so. Feels like this tequila went right to my head.”

“This fat arse is goin’ right to mine,” he said, staring down at your butt, squeezing it roughly.

You felt his cock through his shorts as he danced with you, rubbing himself against your leotard and fishnet combination, chasing his own high. 

Soap joined you, dancing in front of you, lacing his legs between yours, dancing even closer to you than Gaz. He looped one arm around your neck, and he threaded the other around your waist, moving his hips in time with the beat, drinking another cupful of tequila when he got the chance. 

Ghost was behind him, and he began peeling off the lycra onesie, revealing Soap’s broad chest to you, rubbing him down with his hands, playing with his nipples in front of the entire base.

Had you been in your right mind, you would’ve balked at such behavior. But, for some reason, it felt right. You wanted to touch him, too. So, you did. 

You reached out in front of you and ran your hands down his belly, lowering the zipper even further, feeling his heated skin.

“Mmf-fuck,” Ghost moaned, “Tha’s hot.”

Soap seemed to agree, his arching erection obvious through the thin, red outfit. 

Gaz’s hands moved from your ass to your tits, squeezing them as he pulled your body against him, thrusting himself against you to the rhythm of the drum and bass, letting you feel his incredible length across your backside. 

“Look at these, mate,” Gaz cooed in your ear, talking to the other boys, massaging your breasts and pulling at the fabric of your leotard until it almost let your heavy tits fall out. 

“Gaz… what’s…” You tried to clear your mind, “What’s gotten into you lads?”

Your lieutenant leaned forward across Soap’s shoulder and kissed you through his balaclava, moving his mouth into yours, letting you feel the outline of his full lips. You tried to kiss him back, using your hands to flip up the edge of his mask, finding his chin and cheek, moving over so you could taste him properly. 

He was full of that dark tequila, and a hint of his menthols, musky and manly in the most enticing way. When he pulled away, he went immediately to Soap’s neck, sucking on his flesh and making him moan aloud in the middle of the dance floor. 

Suddenly, a large, strong hand gripped your face and turned you towards him, kissing you full on the mouth. His beard and mustache were the only giveaways that it was your captain, feeding you his tongue and choking you with it greedily. 

What was happening? This was insane. Something was wrong. What was in that drink?

“Cap,” you whispered when he allowed you space for a breath, “What’s happening?”

“Need you, love. Need you right fuckin’ now.”

Gaz’s hands reached into your leotard, around your cotton cat tail, and tugged at the gusset. The button snaps popped, revealing your ass, covered only in fishnets. He dug his fingers into the large holes of the fishnet leggings and pulled, ripping them apart, making room for his fingers to sink themselves into your dripping hole. 

You fell forward, grabbing onto Johnny’s shoulders, loving the way Gaz’s hand felt as he moved it inside of you, each finger was like its own challenge, delving into you and reaching for your soft spots.

“Fuck, she’s wet,” Gaz revealed, and you felt your cheeks warm with shame.

Soap smiled down at you, reaching between your legs on his own accord,

“Oh? Is that so, bonnie girl?”

He touched you right beside Gaz, both of their hands vying for position, sometimes shoving their fingers into you at the same time As Gaz would pull away, Soap would bully his knuckles forward, swiping up into you like a greedy thief, reaching for more of your silky wetness. Then, Gaz would return, playing at your clit and then feeding two of his fingers inside of you again, stretching you to make room for both his and Johnny’s eager hands, not caring who was there first or whether or not you were enjoying yourself. 

You were enjoying yourself. But, that was beside the point. Weren’t you at a party? What were you doing before this? There were other people around, right?

But, they suddenly didn’t matter. Price tugged down your shoulder strap to reveal your breast. He marveled at the puffy nipple, pebbled and waiting for his mouth. He bent and began to suckle from you, feeding his other hand across your chest, groping you under the fabric of your outfit as he pulled you into his mouth.

Johnny’s ragged moan cut through the fog of your pleasure, and you looked up at him. He was nearly naked, his devil horns the only thing left from the waist up, and Ghost was kneeling behind him, his mask pushed up, eating his sergeant’s asshole and spreading his cheeks apart cruelly. 

You reached down to feel Soap’s cock, and it was leaking through the fabric, barely concealed anymore by the costume. You pulled him free, jerking him off, smearing his glossy precome all over his pulsing, pink head. 

Price grew tired of your clothing, and he began to rip your costume away from you. Gaz helped him, pulling and tugging and tearing at the fabric. You were left in your fishnets and heels, stumbling between the men surrounding you, feeling the tequila worm its way into your core, stirring your body and making you yearn to be fucked by their heavy pricks. 

Gaz was the first to press himself into you. You were shoved forward, your face smashed into Johnny’s furry belly, his sweat painting your cheek, and Gaz held you in place. He gripped your hips with a painful clutch of his hands, and he swiped his dick through your lips, back and forth, coating himself in your wet warmth. Then, that familiar, aching stretch, and he was inside of you, humping his cock into you deeper and deeper, filling the empty space within your core. 

“Holy fuck,” Price purred, grabbing you by your hair at the nape of your neck.

He pulled you toward him, his fat prick in his hands, and fed himself into your mouth, shoving your head down onto his shaft, choking you with his girth. 

Soap pulled you from him, giving you the same treatment, and you could taste the salty precome that he was leaking with, using the momentum of Gaz fucking you to find a rhythm with your mouth. 

They took turns using you, moving you back and forth, fucking your throat until it burned, pushing you further and further down until your nose was buried in their dense curls, tickling you with the matted fur at the root of their cocks. All you could do was swallow and try to breathe, but it was little use. You were drooling all over them, unable to control your body and its desperate attempt to prepare you for their huge pricks. 

Gaz had ripped an orgasm from you twice, making you scream around the base of Price’s cock, shoving his thumb into your twitching, tight asshole as his cock ruined your pussy. He was well and truly gone, at this point. His grunting was like that of a beast, and you could feel the sweat dripping off of him and onto your back. 

Ghost grew tired of tasting Johnny’s asshole, and now he was fucking him in shallow, huffing thrusts. Every time he would push himself further into his hole, Johnny would leak a little more, his come running down his shaft like sap from a huge trunk, sticky and sweet and endless. 

You were in the middle of tasting Johnny’s dripping head when you felt Gaz bottom out inside of you. Then, he shouted out a long, whining, rumble as he pumped you full of his come. You felt it spilling out of him, pouring into your cunt, spraying rope after rope of his seed into your walls, soaking your hole, desperate to seep into your womb.

Price all but shouldered Gaz out of the way, manhandling your body until you were wrapped in his arms, your legs slung over each giant bicep, and you were being lowered onto his impossible phallus. 

“I… I can’t…” You protested, unsure of whether or not you would survive whatever your captain had to give you.

“You will,” he purred darkly, his voice demonic in its timbre, “Oh, baby, you will.”

He slipped his head into your hole, but that was all that slipped. Everything else was an uphill battle. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to take some of the weight off of your core, but it was no use, he was using his heavy hands to pull you down onto him, squeezing himself inside inch by agonizing inch. You said a prayer of thanks to whatever sick gods were watching your debasement that he was not as long as Kyle.

You hissed in a breath when he reached a new level of thickness that your body had never experienced before.

“Shh, shh,” he cooed in your ear, “Be a good girl, love. Relax for me.”

His hands readjusted, moving lower to pull your cheeks apart, and he used his middle finger to dip into your asshole, playing in Gaz’s dripping come, swirling it around the puckered rim, teasing you by prodding you with shallow thrusts of his finger.

It was enough to distract you from what he was doing to your poor pussy, and he shoved himself in to the base, shocking you enough that your blood ran cold. You held your breath, unable to even cry out. It was as if you were a machine that had been unplugged. You were gone. Your captain had fucked your mind right out of your head. 

“That’s it. There she is,” he smiled sinisterly, pumping himself in and out, using your own weight to fuck you on his heavy rod. 

Two, greedy hands reached around to grope your breasts, grabbing them roughly, pinching your nipples until you whimpered and squirmed. Johnny was behind you, being fucked hard by Ghost, teasing your heavy breasts and rubbing his cock against your ass. 

Price’s hands were in the way, but when he felt Johnny’s cock, he positioned you so that his sergeant could reach. Then, you felt Johnny’s slick cockhead writhe its way inside the very brink of your asshole. He was so close to coming, it didn’t take much depth to take him there. As Simon fucked him, he thrust himself up into you, stretching your hole, unable to fit inside as deep as he would’ve liked with Price in the way. There was just no room. 

Johnny came in you messily and with total abandon. He bit down on your shoulder, keening and groaning, spending himself inside your asshole and letting it drool out of you as he left you there, warring with Price and his weapon.

Ghost let Johnny sink to the floor, and he took his place behind you. He was as tall as the captain, and his cock was almost as large, but there was no gentle rubbing like what Johnny had given you. Simon spread you wide, making you cry out from the way you were being spread apart, your cunt desperately clenching around Price, trying to find a way to hold onto something, anything. Then, he fed his cock inside your asshole, wet already from Johnny’s greedy core, shoving and pushing and squeezing his way beside Price, not taking any sort of laws of physics too seriously.

He began to kiss your neck, staying perfectly still and buried in you to the hilt, letting Price do all the work. The captain kissed you on the other side, biting you and leaving huge red marks where his teeth were too mean on your tender flesh. 

“Too fuckin’ tight,” Ghost complained, moaning into your skin.

“Knew she could take it,” Price smiled, kissing your slack mouth.

“Needy slag,” your lieutenant growled, leaving marks of his own all across your throat. 

He was playing with your tits, pinching your nipples between his forefinger and thumb, holding them up and out, making you feel like you were trapped in his hands. Then, he would knead them, feeling the weighty softness, enjoying your vulnerability, revelling in your corruption. 

Price’s thick cock was moving you both, shoving and bullying Simon’s dick through the thin flesh between your holes, making his masked officer harden like a stone inside of you. 

“M’gonna come in you,” Ghost promised, whispering against your earlobe, sucking it into his mouth. 

You could only cry out, your brain too fuck-drunk to make any words. Sluts didn’t need words. They just needed to come hard and clench their tight little holes around these two, huge cocks. You were nothing more than a hole to be filled. 

Simon thrust in opposite motions from Price, moving himself through your asshole at an absurd speed, fucking you into a shuddering orgasm, and blowing his load deep inside your belly. You could feel its creamy warmth, and as he pulled out of you, you felt it drip from your gaping hole, mixing with Johnny’s fallen seed on the floor. 

Price was still pounding away, brute that he was. Now that he was alone, he lay you on the crate beside him and held your knees open wide, splaying your thighs apart and staring at his cock as it thrust through your folds. 

You were moaning like a paid whore, coming in waves, your whole body feeling the effects of your pleasure, full of come and hungry for more. 

Suddenly, the music kicked off with a thud and you heard laughter coming from across the room.

“Déjame adivinar…” Alejandro’s rude tone came through loud and clear, “You filthy perritos got into my Damiana, verdad?”

Rudy reached behind the crates that Gaz and Soap were leaning against, panting, sweating, and covered in come. Then, he pulled out the bottle, half-empty. He let out a low, pitying whistle, watching as Price buried himself in you with loud, wet slapping noises filling the room, 

“No mames, güey,” he shook his head, showing Alejandro the bottle, “Mira. They’ll be hard until next week.”

“Mierda!” Alejandro cursed your group, all worn out in your pitiful states, “This was expensive stuff. I had it made by a bruja! Extra strong. You owe me, pendejos.”

Their crackling laughter made your head spin, and as you listened to the pounding of flesh on flesh, you knew you were in for a long fucking night.

Hope you enjoyed this year's Kinktober adventure! Thanks for sticking around. Happy Halloween, everyone!

If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving me a like or a comment to let me know. As always, reblogs are deeply appreciated. Want more from me? Check my AO3 profile. I have over 100 COD fics! (I know, crazy.) Discord: @californicationist

[oizysian]

05 // Restraints // Bunny

Summary: Y/N plays hide and seek with her little bunny, and has fun with her after.

Pairing: Hybrid!Bunny!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: bondage, forced orgasms, overstimulation

Word count: 870

Kinktober masterlist

“I’m gonna catch you, bunny.” I taunt into the darkness of the room, knowing she was in there somewhere, hiding from me. “And when I catch you -” I cut off my own sentence and inhaled deeply, a cruel smile on my face. “I’ll be playing with you all night.”

I could almost smell her as I peeked under the bed, lifting up the sheets and making a show of checking her usual hiding spot. I knew she was watching me, just waiting to be found.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are, my little bunny.” My voice is no higher than a whisper, my footsteps barely creaking in the silent room.

I approached the closet, the last place to check, and opened the door slowly. Inside was my bunny.

“There you are, Wanda.” I said softly, watching as she trembled from the gush of cool air, curled up in a ball, attempting to hide herself in the corner of the closet. “What a shitty hiding spot, bunny.”

She looked up at me, a fire in her eyes, and a smirk on her face.

“So shitty it took you nearly an hour to find me?”

“The hunt got the better of me.” I reached into my back pocket and pulled out red ribbons. “But, now I found you. It’s time to play.”

She crawled out of the closet, extending her hands to me and I shook my head.

“Not like that, bunny. Go sit in your chair in my office.”

She pouted, but got up and walked past me, giving me ample opportunity to smack her ass as she passed. She giggled and ran off into my office and I followed her close behind. When I walked in, she was sitting in her chair, waiting for me to play with her. Tonight wouldn’t be exactly what she thought it would be.

“Now, you be a good girl and stay still while I tie you up.”

She smiled mischievously and gave me a nod, sitting as still as she possibly could as I began tying her to the chair with the pretty ribbons.

“Red really is your color, darling.” I whispered softly into her ear, kissing her under her earlobe before pulling away and fastening the binds around her hands.

She pulled on them playfully, but I tied them tight enough that she wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“You won’t be needing these.” I said as I pulled off her little pink panties, putting them aside and tying her ankles to the legs of the chair. “Not like this, anyway.”

Once she was securely bound to the chair, I walked over to my desk where I kept some of our special toys. Tonight, I’d be using the vibe wand - all night.

I returned to her with more ribbon and the wand, attaching it to her thigh, pressed tightly against her slit, and turned it on. A soft “oh” fell from her lips as she felt the vibrations on her clit, her hips attempting to grind against the toy.

“You need just one more thing.” I tapped my index finger on my chin, pretending to think, then snapped my fingers in faux remembrance.

I walked back to the desk and went into our drawer, pulling out a ball gag.

“Can’t have you interrupting me while I work.”

“Y/N, wait -!” She tried to speak before I put the ball gag in her mouth, fastening it around her head.

“There. Now you’re all pretty and ready to cum all night.”

Her head fell back and her whimpering cries fell on deaf ears as I sat down at my desk, getting ready to work. Her legs shook as the vibe worked its magic on her, her body stiffening and twitching under her binds as her first orgasm of the night coursed through her.

“That’s one, my love. How many more until you pass out?”

She let out a high pitched whine, her eyes rolling back into her head as the toy continued to vibrate against her throbbing clit. She tried to pull away, but I tied her up rather tightly, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

I licked my lips as I looked from my monitor to her, her trembling body calling out to me to touch it. But, no, I couldn’t. Not tonight. I had to work.

Luckily for her, I charged the wand this morning so she had quite a few hours before it died.

I could hear her trying to say my name, tears building up in her beautiful emerald eyes as waves of pleasure washed over her again and again. Her soft whimpers made me look over at her, just for a moment, before returning my attention to my work.

“This is what happens when you lose at hide and seek, bunny. I get to listen to you cum all night now.”

From the sounds she was making, I could tell that her voice would be hoarse tomorrow. But, she sounded so cute - so absolutely fuckable, it was all worth it.

She pulled on her binds desperately and I smiled at the sound of her sweet, little voice, crying out again, shaky from yet another orgasm. This was going to be a perfect night.

[mcu-4-you]

Well You Know Me...

Avenger!Bucky Barnes X Goofy!Villain!Reader

Warnings: Reader being an idiot and a flirt, no mentions of Y/N, Reader is a Female and a demigoddess who loves to cause chaos.

Bucky's feet echo along the darkened hall, it's quiet, too quiet for his liking but he keeps moving, he doesn't know why he agreed to come here, to find you, you weren't really a problem per say but you are still on SHIELDS watch list as a threat and after that Loki issue Bucky wasn't taking no chances with you. Bucky gets to a door, it's large and steel, it's nothing out of the ordinary but he's still not lowering his guard knowing you're around, who knows what you'll do. He pushes open the steel double doors and walks in, it's dark, the only light is coming from a purple light in the desk on the corner, he's tense and looking around, he walks in further and feels around for a switch and turns on the lights when he finds it. He has to give it to you, you really have this little evil lair of yours going, with the purple and black furniture, the over dramatic gargoyle statue over the fireplace. He only stares at it blankly.

"Oh what's this? New meat for me to play with?" Bucky jumps out of his skin and turns around quickly, his gun trained on you, he didn't hear you, at all, you just appeared behind him. You smirk and tilt your head, while nothing but mischief gleams in your eyes. "You must be James?" You step closer. "I would give you my name...but that takes the fun out of my game." Bucky just stares not saying a word, his gun still pointed at you and his guard is still up, he was expecting a fight but you just stared at him like a child with a new toy to torment, you had a plate of pizza in your hand and a soda pop in the other.

"What are you doing?" Bucky asks, his eyes narrowed and weary. You laugh and shake your head "I'm on break duh, Evil people need food to." You bite a slice of pizza and grin at him. "Want some?" You say, outstretching your arm to hand him the plate with a raised brow. "No. i don't want your pizza." He scoffs, a grumpy frown forming on his face. "Okay first off rude, i'm not black death, secondly can you please put your gun away, i'm not gonna bite you....Yet."

Bucky's eyes roll, this was gonna be a long night, a very long night....

Two weeks later... "Hey James!" Again you catch Bucky off guard when he walks into your lair, this time though he has you in a headlock and of course you're grinning like an idiot, "Save these tricks for the bedroom James, you haven't even bought me flowers yet." he scowls and let's go of you "Shut up brat, the only flowers you'll get from me is at your funeral is when i kill you." your jaw goes slack and for a minute it's quiet, before a large grin appears on your lips, "Holy shit, that was hot, i knew you could flirt." Bucky blinks, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, he's only known you for a week and you're already driving him up a wall. "Shut up." Bucky grumbles and pushes past you into your lair. "Where is it?" Bucky asks. "Where's what?" You ask innocently. "The gun, with the green squiggly things, that shoots fire, that gun?"

Bucky demands, and stares at you. "Ohhh...that gun, his name is Blaze, and i don't have it."

You lie, Bucky is unamused, and waits for you to tell him. "You won't intimidate me." Your arms cross over your chest and you smirk, i can't give you Blaze, he's the best thing ever created since ultron" You smirk mischievously and chuckle at the look on Bucky's face, until you cave. "Fine, if i give it, will you protect him? it took me forever to birth him." "I'm not promising anything" Bucky grumbles and holds out his hand as you place the gun in his hand. "I'm going now." Bucky turns on his heels and begins to leave but you call out to him. "You know, you could at least leave your phone number since you're taking my son."

you knew he heard as he left and you can't help but laugh. you knew these encounters wouldn't end anytime soon.

i will post part two soon. let me know if this is good🖤

Part two here<-