#these are the first things we clothed ourselves in why the FUCK is it considered luxury

[rxttenfish]

dear fucking god though theres nothing more i hate than how fur and leather have become luxury items

[nights-at-crystarium]

Hooooo boy ALRIGHT *rubs my hands together*

I'd already committed to making Fragments when I realized that building up a new character (wol/oc) could be done through other characters. Perhaps that's not even needed in some short and simple npc ship story, which this story's grown out of. My ambition's proportionate to your support and encouragement, seeing that people like what I do, I felt more confident to indulge and go deeper, write a proper ShB love letter, as I like to refer to Fragments nowadays.

At the same time I don't wanna overhype something that's never been in the plans. I'm adamant about keeping this story focused, anything that gets more than 1-2 comic panels is relevant to Vivi in some way, hence you won't see, let's say, a detour to uriancred even though I ship them. Try to please everyone, end up pleasing no one. If we at some point asked ourselves "what does this have to do with wolgraha?" that'd mean the story's lost its direction and crawled apart. And, why, yes, wolemet has EVERYTHING to do with wolgraha, glad that I realized it before it was too late!!

That being the logical reason, I also can't force myself to write about those who don't quite make it to my blorbo tier. Alisaie gets a lot of attention, while Alphinaud's just. There. Sorry :'> Still he has reasons to stay out of this, they just don't vibe that well with Vivi.

I may be unable to give equal amount of screentime and thoughtful approach to everyone in the ShB cast, but those who got lucky to be relevant to Vivi AND feed my brainworms will get their due tributes.

There's a risk that you won't unsee this once I point it out: the comic's still in the introduction phase where I shamelessly grab a character to tell something about Vivi. Of course I'm trying to be subtle, I also must respect said character, consider what they would and wouldn't do. ShB has brilliant, masterful characterization that's super easy to work with imo. Everyone feels like a person, you just analyze them a bit, see what makes them tick.

Speaking of real, I just can't imagine them sitting at a dining table in their battle outfits. What the fuck. No. Hence I gave them some casual clothes. I like it when things are grounded, when they make sense. I ask a lot of hows and whys.

On the topic of the Scions (not) being yesmen to the wol: that's simply the whole premise of Fragments, they mix like oil and water with Vivi. The writing process went like: Vivi falls for Exarch. Why not for ARRRaha? He doesn't only like Exarch, he likes the First as a whole. Why? He's happy to leave the Source behind. The Scions belong to the Source. Scions = duty = bad for Vivi. Why duty bad for Vivi? Oh he's just a pathetic piece of shit who wants to be Free. I gave him the archetype of a manic pixie dream boy from the start, then I just overanalyzed what it means for a guy that's supposed to be a selfless nodding hero.

Conflict's more fun to explore than total agreement. Are we there to be entertained, or what? That being said, conflict for the sake of conflict could become just as bland, balance is key as they say.

[tootiecakes234]

The Bet (Part 2)

Warnings: smut(MDNI)

The first night goes without a hitch considering once you got home that night you were tipsy, and only enough energy to shower and get in bed. It was the next morning when the problems started.

Day 1:

Saturdays were you and Katsuki’s lazy day. It just so happens that the two of usually like to start lazy days with lazy sex. All the soft kisses and slow motions. Katsuki was always so sweet in the mornings.

So imagine how disappointed you were when Katsuki was already up and out of the bed when you woke up. You find him in the kitchen dressed like a slut at the stove making breakfast.

“Why’d you leave me in bed by myself” , you ask as you wrap your arms around his waist and press yourself against his back.

“ it was either slip outta bed or slip inside you.” He sounded like he was pouting.

“Ooohhh are you struggling already baby??? Cuz I can give you what you want. All you gotta do is say the word.”, you said with a teasing tone.

“Tch not a chance. Now sit your ass down so we can eat.”

You peeled yourself off of him and took a seat.

“So we never went over the specifics for this. What is and isn’t off limits?? Can we get ourselves off? Is oral on or off the table?? Hmmm?”

“No one touches my pussy again til you’ve begged me, so that means no getting ourselves off and no oral. That’s still sex dumbass”

“Sounds good to me”, you were smug now but it wouldn’t last.

You guys had cleaned up around your home this day.

The entire time you were cleaning you were thinking about him. He was just so good looking all the time, no matter what he was doing. He was washing dishes at one point and you were thinking about his hands wrapped around your throat with the soap bubbles in tact. And that made you think of taking a bubble bath with him, and the last time you guys did that…. Whoooo!!

What the hell was happening?? You had only been without sex for less than 48 hours. It can’t be this bad already!

You check your little period calendar and lo and behold you’re fucking ovulating!! What kinda of shitty ass bad luck is that.

“Hey, where is your head right now?? You’ve been zoned out since I started this movie and you were the one who told me to turn it on.”

“I… umm nothing. I was just thinkin. Why are dressed like a slut?? You got something against shirts??, you asked him annoyed.

“Hah? Where the hell did that come from? Since when do you give a fuck what I have on?”, he was looking at you like you’d lost your mind.

“ I don’t care. I just feel like you should put on some damn clothes,” you mumbled this cuz you knew you were being irrational but it’s true! He shouldn’t be allowed to walk around like that. He had on grey sweatpants and nothing else. Not even anything underneath cuz you could see the imprint of his dick.

When you looked at Katsuki again the bastard was smiling at you. “You ready to give in yet?”

“I- yo-…. You’re doing this shit on purpose??? Are you serious Suki?? You’re actually the devil incarnate.”

“You didn’t think I was going to make this easy on ya pretty girl.”, he then dragged you by your foot until you were laying down on the couch and he was hovering over you.

The next thing you know his lips are on yours. He was kissing you so intensely that it stole your breath away. His hands were on you and exploring and you were getting dizzy from it all.

When he pulls away from you, you all doe eyed with your lips parted and bruised. You open your eyes and he’s staring back at you with a grin on his face, “this is gonna be easier than I thought”.

“…….”

There’s no way. There’s no way he’s playing with you like this. He was teasing!

The thing is he wasn’t just teasing you. He was teasing himself and you felt it pressed up against your thigh! Two can play this twisted game.

You reached down between you two and brushed your hand over his hard on. His hissed a little. Ha, got em.

“Sorry, I thought that was the remote poking me.”

“Like hell you did”, he sneered at you.

You leaned up and kissed him sloppily cuz you knew it turned him. You slip your tongue in his mouth and he immediately starts playing with it, sucking on it. A little moan escapes him. Perfect, right where you want him.

You pull back enough to whisper up against his ear, “this is going to be easier than I thought.”

When you leaned back against the couch you tried your best to look innocent, but the laugh threatening to escape comes out as a giggle.

“This is war, you fucking tease”

All you did was smile at him and push him off you. “It doesn’t have to be war hot stuff. It could end here. All you have to do is get on your knees.”

He scoffed at you and got up and started walking away from you. “No way in hell princess! You’re going down.”

He was in a sour mood the rest of the night. That’s what he gets. Tomorrow you were stepping up your game. He’s playing checkers, you’re gonna be playing chess.

*this is longer than I intended but I really struggled with the way I wanted to write this. I think I’m gonna break it up into separate days. I also wanna write some of it in Bakugo’s POV. Let me know what you guys think.

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

@ravenmoore14 @theplacetoputfics @sleepyyhabii

[cardboardclownery]

...hi guys :]

so uhh. folie a deux posting again-

this issss the first chapter i wrote for this!! cookie and i split the chapters among

ourselves specially based on their content and when pitching the idea for this one cookie said they felt sick while reading my idea so. i was chosen to write this one for his sake -v-

SO!! sit back, relax, and enjoy the horrors my friend B]

(also sorry about the bracket bits at the start, we havent made placeholder town names yet or anything ;v;)

FOLIE À DEUX - CHAPTER 5, DRAFT 1

big tw for: graphic depictions of violence, cannibalism, dark themes(?? its freaky idk what youd call it)

I’ve once again found myself in the dark, suffocating woods surrounding the towns of Eastridge. Realistically, I could’ve stayed in [town name] for a bit longer– I had only just started living there before moving out again. Despite that, something in my head is telling me that I have to leave. Telling me how that place is too close to my old home, how easy it would be for Lankmann to find me there.

That voice has been leading me fairly well so far, so I have no reason to stop following him now.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling a bit doubtful, though. I have no reason to believe he’s right or wrong, but a voice telling me to walk endlessly through the wilderness with unconfirmable reasoning isn’t exactly easy to believe. What other choice do I have, though? Stay put and see if it’s proven right, only to risk being put back into that hellish asylum?

No. That isn’t an option. We– I’m not going back there.

God, I’m hungry.

Still, I keep walking, ignoring how much my stomach growled. If I just make it to the nearest town soon, I can get something to eat. I think I still have enough money left to buy something. If not… hopefully they have a soup kitchen. I never imagined I’d end up in a situation where I would depend on something like that. I guess I never considered how people end up homeless or unable to feed themselves.

It feels odd calling myself a “person” now. I don’t know why, but it just seems… wrong in some way.

…I smell something. What is that smell? It’s visceral, almost like raw pork, and yet oddly sweet. I feel drool well up in my mouth and drip down my chin. I quickly wipe it off with my sleeve as I feel my heart begin to pound. Why am I so shaky? And why am I so much hungrier than before?

I look around for the source of the smell only to see a person walking not too far off in the distance. The trees make it hard to see them very well, but I can tell it’s a person. I know it doesn’t make sense for them to be the source of the smell, and yet something’s telling me that they are.

I find myself unable to look away from them. I don’t know why, but I just can’t.

Something about them makes me feel even hungrier.

Why am I hungrier? That’s a fucking person, what is wrong with me? Why can’t I just look away– I keep trying but I can’t get myself to look anywhere else but at them. My jaw falls open, letting more saliva spill out. They start walking farther away, I should walk away too.

But I can’t stop staring.

I can’t stop drooling.

I can’t…

I can’t…

stop…

…

…What...

What’s…going on..?

I can’t remember…how I got here…

I feel something in my mouth…I’m chewing something. It feels like steak, yet tastes more like ham. There’s so much of it, I feel it spilling out over my chin. It’s so warm… and wet… Is it covered in blood..? Was this even cooked at all? What the hell am I eating!?

I look down and–

And–

Fuck. Fuck, I–

I choke on what I was chewing, covering my eyes.

This isn’t fucking happening this isn’t happening–

I uncover my eyes and look down again. I see the same thing.

That person I saw. They’re right here, laying right in front of me. They won’t move, there’s a tear in their neck and they’re bleeding. They’re bleeding a lot.

Their leg’s bleeding too– there’s a deep gash in it. It looks as if an animal had torn it open with its teeth.

There’s blood on my hands. And my face, and my clothes.

There’s so much blood.

A sob pushed at my throat as I willed myself into looking at the person’s face. Another slipped out as I saw them staring back at me, making me look away again. I can’t bear looking at them like this. I can’t believe they’re even alive, let alone conscious.

It would’ve been so much easier if it wasn’t…

…What do you mean, “it?”

They aren’t an “it,” that– that’s a person that’s not–

I shake my head and look back down at its– their leg. The wound left in it is so deep, almost reaching the bone. For some reason, when I looked at this…

When I looked… I felt so, so hungry.

I swallow what remained in my mouth. It tastes… good.

Why does it… taste good..?

Without thinking, I lean down, hold the person’s leg in place and tear off another hunk of flesh with my teeth. The person doesn’t even resist or scream. It just lays there, whimpering in pain.

Its meat tastes so, so good.

I quickly chew up the viscera between my teeth and gulp it down along with the blood it was drenched in. I lick my lips to take in the mess on my face. It was oddly savory, even sweet. I tore off another chunk from its leg.

“I…I-I’m so…I’m sor…ry…” I choked out between chews. “I’m so… so, sorry…”

I swallowed down the mush in my mouth before croaking out another “sorry.” I couldn’t stop repeating as I ate, “sorry,” “sorry,” “I’m sorry,” as if it would do anything. It didn’t take long to notice the person stop responding. It finally died off as I sobbed pointless apologies, devouring what was left of its leg.

My sobs became incomprehensible blubbering after this. I couldn’t bring myself to eat anymore. I just buried my head in my hands, muffling the nonsense tumbling from my throat.

…It’s so odd.

In less than a week, I’ve transformed from a deer in headlights into a predator– a beast perhaps even more frightening than the one I had been running from all this time.

…

I can’t remember exactly how we- I got rid of the body. I just remember panicking, dragging the corpse for hours without thinking. I can’t remember where it is now. I think I stepped on something. Just above my ankle, there’s a bloody gash that must’ve been there for a while now. It’s from a bear trap I think. I probably shouldn’t be walking with a wound like that in my leg. I probably shouldn’t be able to walk with that in my leg. It stings, but it doesn’t hurt as much as it should, I don’t think.

I’m still damp from washing in a river. I think it was a river. It might’ve been a lake, actually. I can’t really remember that, either. I just know I was covered in blood, then went somewhere that had water and left without any blood on me. I couldn’t get the stains off of my clothes, though.

Hopefully no one noticed.

I’m in an apartment now– a small, run-down one, but an apartment. I’ll be stuck living here for a while so I need to get used to it. I’ve been staring at the same spot on the beige, hole-filled wall for a few minutes now, standing just in front of the door leading outside. My bag is lying next to me, having been dropped just after walking inside and closing the door.

I should go to bed.

I should unpack.

I should take a proper shower.

I should turn myself in to the police.

I should

I

don’t

I don’t. Know.

What do I do now?

Where do I go from here?

What… what do I do..?

I… I killed someone… I can’t even remember where they are now…

I just… hid them… like it was nothing and walked away.

I ate their fucking leg.

Why… why did I… Why…

Why…

I…

Can’t… breathe…

I fall backwards against the door. I can’t breathe. I choke on nothing. I can’t stop shaking.

My eyes start to sting from the tears forming in them. My fingers curl against the floor. My nails dig into it as they do.

Inhuman sounds bubble in my throat.

I feel something heavy wrap around me but nothing is there.

It becomes easier to breathe somehow.

The invisible weight around me grows heavier, pushing me down to the floor.

I curl into myself, lurching with each choked sob of a breath. Despite there being no source of it in the room, I swear I can hear music.

I really have lost it, haven’t I.

[rpedia]

How to deal with lack of motivation to reply?

Ah, the old blank screen stare. So, for the most part I consider this issue to be several intersecting problems at the same time. Usually a lack of motivation indicates a.) a lack of fun/enjoyment, b.) low/no expectation of reward, or c.) fear or apprehension. Let's explore that under the cut.

When you are roleplaying and you're not enjoying yourself explicitly, if the journey to a finished post is not fun itself, we're kind of fucking ourselves over. Creation of these words, excitement at turning a phrase or approaching an idea you really want to explore is basically the whole gist of it. It is a hobby, and loving what you write and laughing at your own jokes is important! You are your own first audience, and if you're not impressed or pleased with what you're writing, it becomes an endless Sisyphean task where you unhappily struggle to write something, anything, to just get through it.

In this case it may be a lack of inspiration. With no structure, or core, we can really easily lose sight of what kind of play we're looking for. What are your goals? Are you here for plot, or character? For smut, or a quick playful bit of banter? Do you want to fight, or are you reaching for some overarching thing? Hell, do you know where THIS scene is headed, or does it feel like an endless trudge? These ideals disappearing or falling to the wayside for someone else can really fuck the vibe!

How are you supposed to know what to write, if you don't have any plans for the character, or don't know where they might potentially go? Like it doesn't have to be hard and fast, but understanding your characters own personal goals, fears, joys, and secrets (entirely different to you, the player) can help with motivation in writing them. I like to explore these by playing games with myself, and daydreaming about scenarios and possibilities that aren't "canon" to my character, but just let me know more about them if a similar situation were to come up. Having a library chock-full of potential what-ifs can help a ton in figuring out how to approach any actions or direction a partner may push you towards. Be excited to explore your character, and to show them off to others! This journey is soooo important to love for itself!

Like with any piece of art, not enjoying the process is a quick short-cut to burn-out and misery. So, if this is happening you might want to adjust some things if you're sitting there upset and bored instead of enjoying what should be a fun pastime you can lose yourself in! So instead of beating yourself up about posting, figure out why it's a chore. Are you taking care of yourself? Have you met the S.H.R.E.K. criteria for the day? Is this post not something in your wheelhouse, or do you feel like you could be doing something else and getting more fun out of it?

Before I get ahead of myself, let me address the truly horrific acronym I just threw at you. S.H.R.E.K. criteria? Who would inflict this on you? Well... me, because it's so memetic and stupid I remember it way better than most acronyms, so buckle up buttercup. It stands for:

Socialization: Have you talked to someone or had meaningful interactions with others for the day? Depending on your needs, you may need hugs, touching others, chatting with loved ones, or cuddling. Some people literally need to be touched, held, hugged, and talked with the thrive, and others can do just fine with a little less. Listen to the monkey studies: Don't be a wire mother to yourself, let yourself have cloth mother sometimes. Hydration: Have you been drinking enough liquids to be hydrated and keep your piss from being too yellow? No liquids means your body starts sucking at everything from getting oxygen to the brain, to making food into energy. Make sure you balance hydration with salt and food intake, but never underestimate what a good cold cup of something can do. And yes, any liquid works. Coffee is dehydrating, so is soda, but their hydrating effect is way bigger than how often they make you piddle so it balances out. Still, water is best but don't beat yourself up about it. Rest: Have you slept enough in the last 24 hours? I know you think 4-6 is okay, but it's really not, it will actually cause you to behave like an alcoholic and lead to later insomnia, mental issue worsening, and health problems like heart issues. Nip that in the bud, sleep full 8-10 hour nights. Or nap if you're just sleepy! Eat: Have you shoved nutritious food in your gob or are you dying from scurvy, beri-beri, and malnutrition simultaneously while depriving the lil dudes who help you write a good lunch? Don't starve your lil neuron folks, they need a good meal too. Even if it's just ingredients for a meal, anything is better than nothing and you deserve food. Kinetics: Have you moved around? Stretched? Walked or played? Sometimes if you're starting out from zero, you might try just standing up and sitting down a couple times to help get bloodflow going! Getting active at whatever level you're at is good for the brain.

Anyways after that interlude, back to basics. At the lowest tier we want to be having fun. If we're not, it might be us, or it might be a boring lackluster partner. That's where a lack of reward comes in. If the partner is, bless them and their hard work, just not giving you the thrills to pay the dopamine bills? That just might mean you guys aren't a good match! This is not the end of the world, it just means you might need to stop playing with them.

Step back, consider if roleplaying with their style and output is worth your time and effort, and do BOTH of you a favor if they aren't. Set them free to play with other players who love their writing and can't get enough of it, and stop grating your teeth across cement trying to come up with something to keep things you don't even like going. This is the communication part, remember how I used to harp on that? Well old Uragani still thinks it's super important. So discuss that 'hey, we might not be a great fit for writing together' and come up with solutions. Maybe finding new partners, and just staying friends, or just waving goodbye to each other and hitting the road.

Here we find ourselves looking at challenger #3, the good old fear and apprehension. This comes up more than I'd like to admit. Are you worried about what's happening next? Or how you might portray something? Have you worked yourself up too much, and now you feel like you can never meet your own expectations? Are you scared of letting down a partner, and not giving them your best? Do you feel like your post might go over an unwritten line, and leave people upset with you?

Congrats! I hate that shit too! I do not know why brains do this to us! I would like to sue!

Anxiety is a hell of a beast, so is Impostor Syndrome, and fear of letting people down, and all the other fun goodies in that bag. They can be worked on at home, in small doses. You gotta learn to sit back, and be able to talk to yourself. Why are you feeling this way, and finding the name for your emotional state, accepting it, and letting it pass through can help. In major situations, you might need to find yourself a good old Common Sense Dispenser, better known as a therapist. They have the tools you need, and yes, roleplay can be a play you find out what you need. It's not dumb, it's useful.

Working through this can be as simple as discussing your fears with your partner and making sure everything is kosher. It might need you to look at a worst case scenario and then planning an exit strategy for that, even if it never happens. Sometimes, you just gotta heft yourself up, and push through the fear. There's a million ways to get through it, and I'm not the person who can tell you which will work for you. But I can tell you, it gets better the longer you work with it. Confidence comes from experience, the more you work at it, the more it feels like second nature.

But that brings with it the last beast, the hidden #4. Burn-out. Sometimes, when we delve too deeply into something we love, we ignore the signs of burn-out. Losing interest in things we once deeply enjoyed. Feeling exhausted at the thought of starting a post, or writing anything. Feeling like we've lost touch with what we used to be good at. Burn out can be a miserable thing, because it stand between us and our goals, our happiness, and it keeps them behind the thickest glass, so we can see them, but getting them feels impossible. The harder we push, the thicker the glass becomes.

In cases of burn out, like the kind I've experienced, sometimes you need to take a step back and just do something else. Go on hiatus. Maybe it's hooked to a character, and you simply have to play with some other muse. Maybe it's with another player, and finding a new fandom without them in it can help. Maybe it's with writing at large, and you need to go find some other outlet to explore while this one heals. You cannot do the same thing forever, you will lose touch with what makes it special. Believe me.

But after healing, which can take years if you keep pushing it like some idiot who wrote RPedia long after you should stop, it'll be fun again. You'll want to come back, and do the thing you were good at, and loved again. The spark will return, and things just... settle and feel better. I promise. Just let yourself have that time to recover without pushing yourself somewhere you aren't meant to go right now.

Naturally there's other stuff too. ADHD/Autism/other issues could be throwing the executive dysfunction ball into your lap and suddenly doing the thing you've done a thousand times is impossible. Stars aren't in alignment. Maybe you're stressed out because of an external force and need a break. Maybe the thread you're in has been going on too long in the same scene, and you need to cut and start a "fresh episode" before everything stays stale forever. Maybe you just aren't in the mood! There's a million reasons, but all of them come down to figuring out what the problem is, and engaging with ways to break that problem down into bits. Find your fun. Look for partners who make you feel like writing with them is worth it. Work with your fears, and express yourself about them and let them past through you. Find external help if needed, and take care of your body while you're at it.

And hey, remember, I am not the end all be all of advice. It could totally be something outside of these circumstances, but I'd like to think that in my experience these are the major factors that I keep coming across. If any of this has been a help, I can only be happy to have said it. Thank you so much for reading!

[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {III}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: Apologies for the delay! This weekend was a long one. Chapter 4 will still be posted on Tuesday as planned!

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse, non-descriptive sexual abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

Nesta,

Elain has been bothering me to write to you so I am only doing this to make her happy. I am still seeing Isaac Hale and I do not feel bad about it. I do not care to marry a gentleman. None of the gentlemen here are worth a lick. Besides, with Tomas’ care, I do not need to marry rich. I enjoy Isaac’s company — at least for now. Even if he is not husband material, we have a good time. 

Although I am angry with you, I do hope you are doing well. Father seems happier lately and we have started to insert ourselves back into society. We attended a luncheon a few days ago and both father and Elain seemed right at home among the company. I wore a new dress. It was nice.

Foreign, considering our hardships, but nice.

When you reply, please do not mention Isaac. You’ll be wasting your breath.

Your Sister,

Feyre

Cassian

Azriel and Rhysand are laughing about something but I can’t seem to think straight enough to make sense of why. We’re gambling and I’m losing, and once I started losing I started drinking which was quite some time ago. Thankfully, we’re not playing for money but stripping down with every lost hand. As of now, I’m sitting in my trousers with my chest bare and toes freed while the other two bastards at this table have donned my clothing on top of their own. 

Balthazar, my butler, enters the room to bring a full bottle of whiskey. I hadn’t even noticed that we emptied the last one. “Thank you,” I say. At least, I think I do. My words seem far away as they come out of my mouth. 

“Play, damn it!”

I blink, not realizing it was my turn. I lay down my cards. The two bastards next to me at the round table howl.

I’ve lost my pants. 

“You know,” I say, unbuttoning my trousers and kicking them off, “when one of you wins, you can choose each other from time to time instead of ganging up on me. It’s too cold to be sitting here with my cock hanging out.”

“Then start a fire,” Azriel says, dealing once again as I sit back in my chair in my underpants. 

Thankfully I win the next round and my pants along with it, but it doesn’t last long before they’re gone again.

When the door opens again, Balthazar enters with a silver tray and a sealed envelope on top of it. I can hardly keep myself from swaying as I reach for it and thank him before breaking the seal. At first, the words are blurry, but after a few minutes of deep focus, I toss it aside. “Fuck.”

“What?” Azriel asks, as Rhysand struggles in his own drunken state to undo the buttons of his shirt. 

“Mandray,” I say, pouring myself another drink and refilling theirs. “Invited me to dinner tomorrow. Talk business.” 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Azriel asks, sighing as he starts to help a grappling Rhysand. 

I nod, and I don’t know how long I nod for but I feel like it’s a damn long time. “It’s at his house. What if his wife is there?”

“I expect her to be,” Rhys says, flailing his arms until they’re free from his sleeves. “It’s her house. She eats dinner.” 

“Hmmm.” I lean back in my chair. “What do you think she’ll be wearing?”

“More than you currently are, hopefully,” Azriel says, putting Rhysand’s shirt over both mine and his across his shoulders. “Why does it matter? Afraid you’ll hit on her again in front of her own husband?” 

“I’m not that stupid,” I say, then add, “when I’m sober.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Rhys says, and nods at the cards face down in front of me. “Now, play.” 

“Should I bring something?” I ask, surely overthinking it, but my mind is so fuzzy that I’m honestly surprised I’m having any thoughts at all. I take another drink. “Flowers? Wine?”

“I don’t think Mandray cares for flowers or wine,” Rhys says. “Try brandy.” 

“Not for him,” I say, stumbling, which is strange considering I’m sitting. No, wait, I’m standing. Why am I standing? I sit back down. “For his wife. You should always bring a gift to the woman of the house as a thank you.”

“Sounds very gentlemanly,” Azriel agrees, “but could also be seen as you hitting on his wife.”

“I’m not hitting on his fucking wife!” I say, accidentally knocking over my glass as my arms have a mind of their own for a moment. “I mean, I don’t think I am. Fuck, she is gorgeous. Isn’t she gorgeous?” 

They both stare at me, dumbfounded. 

“Just saying,” I mumble, picking up my glass only to find it empty. Oh yeah. I spilled. “Just because I can’t touch doesn’t mean I can’t admire.” 

“Your admiration is going to get you into trouble,” Rhysand says, then repeats, “now play, damn it.” 

I pick up my cards that are coated in spilled whiskey and play my shitty hand. Azriel wins but allows me to keep my underpants on. It seems we’re picking on Rhys now. 

I save my decision of flowers or wine for tomorrow, when hopefully my head is clear enough to make the proper decision. Hopefully I’m not too sick from the alcohol by the time dinner rolls around. Judging by the clouding of my vision, I assume a headache is in store for me tomorrow morning. 

My thoughts drift to Lady Mandray. Since seeing her at Rhys’ last week, I haven’t been able to erase the image of her from my mind. She was exquisite in that navy blue dress, her hair braided, her lips full and the swells of her breasts on display. She was a work of art. 

And she’s married to the prick that is Tomas Mandray.

I know I shouldn’t complain, shouldn’t judge. I know that getting into business with him will take away my monthly financial worries, but there was something in his eye that didn’t sit well with me when we met. 

He was too confident, and that’s coming from me, who is typically considered too confident. He’s the type of man that thinks he owns everything and everyone within his reach. 

Including his wife.

I know the type well. My father was one of them. 

“Why do you suddenly look like you’re having an overly intense conversation with yourself?” Rhys asks, refilling my glass for me. 

I shrug and laugh it off, even as my thoughts drift from Mandray to my father. “Too much to drink. Deal me in.”

We play until sunrise and I fall asleep too drunk to coherently think about a damn thing. 

Which is exactly what I need. 

……….

Nesta

I’ve had too much wine. 

I don’t even remember finishing the bottle which is probably a sign for concern but I can’t bring myself to care. I feel light, and it feels good to feel light. The heaviness that weighs on me every day has evaporated and I feel absolutely nothing, but in the best way possible. 

My maid has come in twice but I’ve asked her to leave me alone for the night. I feel bad when I’m a bitch to Alis but she always takes it in stride, even if I’m sure she’s cursing me internally every time she walks away from me.

I don’t blame her. 

I curse myself, too. 

Unable to keep reading, thanks to the heaviness of my eyes, I try to sleep. After blowing out the candle at my bedside, I close my eyes and settle back against my pillows. 

Suddenly I’m somewhere else. I’m not in this house, nor am I in my father’s house, but in a different house entirely, one I’ve never been in. 

One that’s entirely my own. 

It sits on the top of a mountain, overlooking the entirety of Velaris. The starlight is brighter from where I stand on the balcony in my mind, beckoning me. For once, I feel safe, although I’m alone. There is no sense of uncertainty or discomfort. Instead, I know it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be, like the walls and all within them were crafted for me. 

My name is called and the voice is familiar. My skin doesn’t crawl like it does when Tomas calls my name. Instead, I swear my heart skips a beat.

Before I can turn to face him, he’s behind me, pulling me back into his chest. I close my eyes and breathe him in as his strong, broad arms come around me and hold me tight. 

It’s a sweet gesture, one I’ve never known in reality, but in my dream, this alternate reality, it’s what he does every night.

Every morning.

Every chance he gets. 

I feel his mouth on my cheek and I let my head fall to the side, giving him better access. Those luscious lips of his trail down my cheek, down the column of my neck, down to my collarbone. I close my eyes, wishing his hands would wander, wishing he’d fall on his knees and ravish me. 

Just as those calloused hands sweep up my sides and cup my breasts, my name is called.

It doesn’t come from him, though. 

It’s back in the nightmare that is my reality and I refuse to open my eyes. I beg the illusion my mind has concocted to stay with me a little bit longer but it dissipates.

“Nesta.” 

My mattress dips and my eyes fly open. The alcohol already consumed still grounds me, but a hint of fear, of annoyance, of dread creeps into the barrier that the alcohol has created. 

Tomas is here, crawling onto my bed, still dressed but his cock is out and hard. I try my best not to cringe, try my best not to recoil, and for a moment I think I’m putting on a hell of a performance but alcohol has always made me tell the truth. 

Even when words are absent. 

He’s hovering above me and I can catch his expression from the dying fire in the fireplace. At first, he’s smiling, and even though his smile looks unpleasant, it’s more unpleasant when his smile dies and he’s watching me with disdain.

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” I say, with no hesitation.

His jaw ticks. “I smell the wine on your breath. Don’t you fucking lie to me, wife.”

Wife. 

Even the alcohol can’t take away what the one word does to my spirit. 

“Why does it matter?” I ask, leveling my gaze with his. “I am a grown woman. If I want to overindulge, I may.”

“You are a lady,” he hisses, his voice low, quiet. “My wife. You cannot do anything without my approval, and I do not approve of my wife drinking herself into oblivion like a fucking whore.”

I close my eyes, trying to find my way back to the happy place I had mustered up just moments ago.

“Open your eyes.”

I don’t.

“Open your eyes!”

I gasp, the hand around my neck rough, making me gasp for air. I open my eyes and the hand is gone, now resting next to my face as Tomas knocks my knees, spreading my legs.

The alcohol is doing nothing at this point. One second, I’m feeling too much, and the next, I am numb. 

I let him do to me what he wishes. There’s no point in fighting back, it’ll only cause the anger that he’s inflicting on me now to amplify. I’d rather him fuck me while I lay here, dead, than to lay a hand on me, than to leave a bruise. 

I look beyond my husband and find that burnt spot on the ceiling. I stare so long that my vision blurs and I let my mind drift back to that place, that house atop the mountain. I think of the starlight and the man whose arms held me tight. I let that image, that dream comfort me until Tomas is satisfied and I attempt to piece myself back together. 

[zalrb]

I MUST REALLY LOVE MY FOLLOWERS - BRIDGETON 3.01 review

1. "Dearest gentle reader, did you miss me?" Me:

2. I'm not doing this recap.

3. I maintain that Nicola should be Belle in the next live action we'll eventually do.

4. Idk man, Kathony just feel SO unnatural.

5. MINI MOUSE MAN NEXT TO BIGGER MOUSE MAN

6. Who will be the prize of the season? And it's Colin?

7. All of these women are gorgeous and all of these men are like basic white bread. I -

8. I'm upset because this is supposed to do something for me

and it's resolutely not.

9. Oh please. Francesca looks like every other woman there.

10. Prudence is probably the only character I somewhat like. I think. She's the terrible one, right?

11. I might like that family the most because they're the schemers. They're actually DOING QUASI-INTERESRTING THINGS.

12. Colin is a fuck boy without fuck boy good looks. Please stop it.

13. And I'm not saying he's ugly. I am saying he's plain.

14. This is my problem with Bridgerton. It SHOULD be fun. And it's punishing.

15. Where the fuck is Edwina? I DON'T CARE ABOUT KATE.

16. They should shock us all and have Edwina come back and just murder everyone like Carrie.

17. Leave her alone, Colin.

18. I know the point of this season is Polin but I already know she deserves better.

19. GIVE ME MORE OF THE BICKERING SISTERS. They're terrible. I'm interested.

20. "Well that's your fault for marrying men without title!" But Prudence's man is one of the, like, two most good looking of them all, so you know.

21. OOOOOOOH IS PENELOPE GONNA WEAR LAVENDER NOW? THE COLOUR OF LOOOOOOOOVE.

22. Considering that I barely pay attention to this show, did Penelope do like irreparable damage to Eloise and her family for this fallout to be as serious as it's meant to be?

23. That's a genuine question.

24. This Kanthony love scene is ... awkward.

25. Kanthony? Kathony? Whichever. Whatever.

26. And even when he goes down on her I'm like idk, Outlander would like a word.

Someone is BANGING ON THE DOOR and Jamie does not stop until Claire orgasms, so.

27. So Penelope is basically "draw me like one of your French girls, Jack" but with clothes.

28. The one thing Bridgerton had going for it was the music and I'm not hearing any classical renditions of pop songs. What is the POINT?

29. This ball looks like every other ball in this show.

30. Oh, there's the music. abcdefu is a good choice for her, I do have to say the music choices are at least better than TSITP. She SHOULD be talking to Colin as it plays though.

31. I'm not sure why I hate him, I just do.

32. If she enjoys embroidery let her enjoy embroidery, Eloise. Don't "not like OTHER girls" them please. Jesus.

33. "D-do you all like to read?" I get it, Pen.

34. TELL US ABOUT YOURSELF. NOW. Isn't Francesca meant to have a chaperone? Isn't there a dance card or something? Aren't there RULES?

35. I'M ONLY 30 MINUTES IN?

36. Original Mouse Man, what are you doing? Aren't you a viscount with responsibilities?

37. "I expected conversation, I did not expect to be inspected--" then you weren't prepared at all for this. This is the ERA for that, should you not KNOW? WHAT?

38. Everything is muted and dramatic at the same time.

39. Oh, Kathony in another scene. Are they going to try and have sex?

40. Yes.

41. "I've already spent YEARS taking care of Edwina" I mean, did you?

42. "So why don't we put ourselves first for once?" I MEAN, DIDN'T YOU?

43. BRO, WHERE IS YOUR SISTER?

44. "We have our lives to be viscount and viscountess" man, pull a Downton Abbey and kill him.

45. "Think of the balls as..." You should've had this conversation BEFORE the ball.

46. "It pains me to see you upset." "Then perhaps you should not have come." Ha.

47. "and what I have learned is charmed can be taught" which is funny because Colin isn't charming no matter how much the show tries to convince me he is.

48. I suppose it's better than watching Theo James.

49. AND HE WILL FALL FOR HER DURING THE LESSONS.

50. The handshake is supposed to be a Moment and it's interesting because it's called attention to and yet also breezed by at the exact same time.

51. LOL what she wrote was SO TAME especially for a MAN in THIS society? "Is this new character the real him or is it a ploy for attention?" DAS IT??? Please be serious.

52. oooh drama, if he finds out who Lady Whistledown is, he'll destroy her life. It's just hard to think there are stakes when it's ... Colin.

DONE.

[plethomacademia]

wip wed or drabble idk

I have always wanted to write what happens after Astarion's grave scene because in my game, the next day was when I went to kill Orin and I felt like there was a good angst brew in here. Anyway, first 750 words came together in a beautiful snap. Next 500 words are pretty good. Remaining 1k that I want to write is being an absolute prick, so have the part I love and maybe this is it for this thing. Not explicit but begins when Astarion pushes the character onto the ground in the graveyard so.

Astarion presses his hard length down onto his partner Maeve’s clothed mound. She meets him with her hips, meets him with her mouth as their tongues tangle. He moves to unlace her breeches, gets the cords just loose enough to open her pants placket and slip his hand inside. Then she turns her face away and breaks the kiss just enough to open her damn mouth and ruin everything.

“Astarion, my love, you can’t really intend to fuck me in a graveyard.”

He groans and presses himself up on his forearms to glare down at her. “Are you suddenly a prude?”

She looks at him in the way he likes the least, all raised eyebrows and twisted mouth. “No, I’m just not an idiot. Even if we didn’t have half the city’s powers looking to kill us, I am wearing trousers and I have no intention of having my arse in grave dirt, even if it is your grave dirt.”

“We could swap positions.”

“And then we are back to point one. Off.” She pushes at his shoulder but he is already moving to his knees. He adjusts his erection as she reties her drawstrings.

“You have ruined my romantic moment, you know.” He gets up first, then reaches out to help her back to standing.

She takes a moment to brush the dirt from her rear. “No, you had a very romantic moment and I was fully swept away. And now I am keeping you from ruining it.”

He rolls his eyes but when she reaches for his hands, he does not stop her. “Well then, darling, what is your proposal for the romantic evening that I had planned as part of the whole declaring my unending love for you? Or have you forgotten that part already?”

“Astarion.” She squeezes his hands, hard enough to make him look down at her. Her eyes have gone soft, just as they had earlier in that evening. It is still new, her letting him see her with her guard this far down. “No, I have not forgotten.”

“I supposed you would not be open to renting a room then.”

“No, I would not.” Her reply is quick and he can tell that it is final.

He does not argue the point. He knows why she insists on sleeping with the rest of their party nearby. It has been ten-days since she had lost control and nearly killed him in the middle of the night, but since that moment she has refused to even sleep in the same part of camp as him. Since they had been taking a break from sexual activity anyway, it had resulted in them splitting up in the evenings like youths who were having a chaperoned courtship. He wants tonight to be when they try to change that.

“You have not forgotten that either of our beds comes with about a dozen pairs of ears attached, have you?” he asks.

She laughs. “May I make a proposal for your romantic evening?”

“By all means, tell me how to proceed with my seduction of you. You do enjoy telling me what to do.”

“And you enjoy being told what to do, but we can play with that another evening.” She does not let him get in a word before continuing. “My proposal is that we take the room to the east for ourselves. We draw all the curtains. And then we do our best to be quiet.”

He enjoys the idea until the last part, but it wasn’t as if they would have been able to be terribly loud in the graveyard, either. “Is that enough for you to be comfortable?”

“No, but, it’s been so long, right? And Jaheira will likely still do her watch outside — don’t scoff, it is a kindness for her to do that. It is — She has been very kind to me, all things considered.”

Her voice cracks on the last word and he sees the softness return, that watery threat of tears. He kisses her forehead but she tries to talk her way through it, as she does so many things.

“I just — With tomorrow, Astarion …” She trails off and he sees her throat work.

He takes her in his arms and lets her hide her face. He holds her warm body against his cold one for a moment, wishing he knew how to show her that she can talk to him about this, too.

[dalliancekay]

And it is All. Aziraphale's. Fault.

NO IT FUCKING ISN'T HIS FAULT

First of all: I'm pretty sure every time we see Az and Crowley in the past, Crowley is wearing whatever is the height of fashion while Aziraphale wears things that are well made but several decades out. Meaning he is wearing them for a good while. Swapping his clothes around when they become maybe too worn, maybe too conspicuous.

Walking the clean, gas-lit avenues with Crowley and Elspeth, Aziraphale is oblivious to the privilege he has in this world.

Really? Was he born yesterday? He has no idea how the world works?

the angel spouts trite pontifications created by the rich to justify poverty. He genuinely believes Elspeth has more opportunities for goodness.  After all, look at Wee Morag. 

It wasn't invented by the rich. It was 'invented' or used rather by the church that got used by the rich to keep the poor in place. There is no way you can blame Aziraphale for this. All he wanted is for Elspeth not to end up in Hell. Which Crowley wanted too, after he saw how upset it made Aziraphale. That's not fucking wrong. And you can't tell me either that rich have more opportunities to do good. Or that they do so. Or that more of them go to Heaven.

The inequality in humanity? Well, Adam and Eve had nothing. We have caused all this bullshit to ourselves. Nothing to do with Aziraphale. Or Crowley.

He respects her goodness tremendously.  It proves to him his “rightness.” 

Did you mean to say, he's glad she's not heading for Hell.

And so he sabotages Elspeth’s attempt to sell the body she dug up in her attempt to support Wee Morag.  Dalrymple gets no body, Elspeth gets no money, and Aziraphale believes he’s saving her soul.

He WAS saving her soul. Remember? Heaven and Hell being real places you go to when you die in GO?

Selling stolen bodies puts good in the world.  He’s all for it now, and goes back to encourage Elspeth.  Good heavens, he’s even willing to help this time!

Maybe next time try to be a bit more condescending to someone who just learned something new. And IMMEDIATELY changed his mind about it. Plus, Crowley had no idea digging up bodies could be spun to be a good thing either. He was learning just as much as Aziraphale. But I haven't seen one single FUCKING META about how Crowley was completely disinterested in Elspeth and her life. Only in having his usual argument with Aziraphale. Until he didn't. (And as I pointed out, he wasn't right about - you have start people off equal, people did start off equal, we are just assholes)

But, as we know, it all goes wrong.  Wee Morag is shot by a grave gun, and dies of her injuries.  Elspeth steals laudanum, and plans suicide. 

In other words, everyone makes their own choices, things go badly for Wee Morag. Maybe re-watch the ep and see how Elspeth doesn't blame Aziraphale (or Crowley) for what happened. So why do you?

Crowley drinks the laudanum, saves her in a compassionate Scottish frenzy, and is stolen away by hell because of his kindness.  

Is he? Or is he taken cos he sent two guards directly down to Hell, alerting them?

And it is All. Aziraphale's. Fault.

(I deleted what I wrote here)

He considers all of the money he casually spends on fine clothing and expensive tailoring.  He wonders how many lives could change if that money was better spent on helping to relieve the poverty that surrounds him. 

There's absolutely NOTHING in canon to support this. We can HC whatever we want sure, I for example think that Az wears things, as I said above, that are stylish but always out of fashion because it takes him time to find the right things and then he wears them for decades and decades. Because that's what is suggested by the canon, by the care he puts into his clothes and how well loved they are. The fact that 'male' fashion got less flamboyant down the centuries was not Aziraphale's decision. I for example HC too that Azi, when building his bookshop, and using his own, earned money as you rightly say, was spending miracles on making sure his workers didn't injure themselves, that he spent miracles looking after the street urchins in the very poor neighbourhood he has chosen to settle in (as opposite to say Mayfair). And that when Gabriel told him off for using too many 'frivolous miracles' in 1792 he got mad and decided to go to Paris like the stupid angel he apparently is and get, say, ravished by his enemy who would surely find him helpless and not able to save himself in a prison.

What would Crowley do, if he were free to be kind? And so Aziraphale changes.

Yes, because Aziraphale is an asshole who cares about nobody, and nothing, right?

the angel who took too long justifying a life-saving miracle for Wee Morag

Because he's NOT ALLOWED TO INTERVENE.

who hesitated to give Elspeth his 90 Guineas

Do you think he should have just worked and worked and give all his money to poor people? Is that the answer to all the world's problems? Making Aziraphale poor?

willingly and freely gave Maggie forgiveness for thousands of pounds of debt

Why wouldn't he. It's his property and I am sure he lends it to Maggie for significantly less than anyone else would have. Definitely less than those 'gentlemen' in the book who come and try to persuade the angel from time to time to sell his bookshop.

I'd love to know what else he's done over the last 180+ years!

He's been the kind, big hearted angel he always was. Looking after his shop, his tenants and anyone else who he could. Saving babies in prams and making sure shady men never came back. Looking out for Crowley, trying to keep him out of trouble, worrying about him, keeping an eye out to see if he's not doing something reckless. Finding out the demon wants to rob a church, handing him the one thing that could take him away forever with the heaviest of hearts. While of course, Crowley was doing the same thing. Not giving in to Aziraphale's princess act in the Bastille because he knew it would not ultimately end well for them. Understanding when Aziraphale said no to a date in 1967, not surprised since he remembered well what happened in 1941 when they were seen together.

*** YES if Aziraphale did absolutely nothing on the graveyard, Wee Morag would have probably lived a bit longer. How much longer though... and they would very likely end up in Hell, because they would have had to do much more crime down the road. Maybe even get hanged for graverobbing. Also see: Aziraphale just wanted to help. Did you never make a mistake??? He didn't mean to hurt anyone. If he did nothing, he'd never have learned yet another way the world is complicated and not black and white. Crowley was going to do nothing at all, just have a laugh at someone robbing a grave. No one cares. He's a demon. He stopped Elspeth from killing herself and everyone applauds, yes, it is super kind of him, and dangerous for him too, but it is the right thing to do. He didn't want her to go to Hell either.

The people who think they would have figured everything out before any events happened at all...well, good luck in your life.

And people who think Az should have done nothing - okay then. Let's just all do nothing at all, hoping we avoid all the bad things. Also: Changing the world is not done via charity but via changing the society, creating better welfare systems, housing, medical care, education. Those are things one lone angel (and his husband) can't do. And it's not their place anyway. I have like 5 pounds in my bank account (I hope) and yet I am not blaming someone well-off for that. It's the systems that are failing us. Much like the systems failed Aziraphale and Crowley. Putting two wonderful beings through so much pain because - that's how it is done.

And as I have said a million times before, Aziraphale is not learning some morality lesson in GO (HE IS A WONDERFUL, GOOD, KIND, GENEROUS, BRAVE BEING ALREADY), he doesn't need to get off his high horse, he doesn't need to finally 'see things clearly'. He knows how fucked the system he lives in is. He's just trying to help. Even Crowley says (in the book) that Heaven is the better option over Hell. However fucked it is.

Aziraphale learns from Crowley that he can question things, yes. But not in some, oh he's so blind and stuck and deep in some dogma bullshit. NO. He was always told things will happen a certain way. That Earth gets 6000 years tops. That God Herself made a Plan. It may be Ineffable, but it is a Plan.

I'm sorry, if you think you are far smarter than this and you would have figured out that God is telling porkies, good for you, I'm glad such intellects exists.

Because Crowley also didn't know the Plan could be changed until the end of S1. Yes he asked Az to try stop Armageddon but I don't think he really believed they could. He just wanted to give it a go. Cos - well what did he have to lose?

And they did change it. They held Adam's hands and they told him to be himself and when Gabe and Beez wanted to go ahead anyway Az confused them by asking about which Plan said what. So yes, he learns to question things. And he learned that from Crowley. And Crowley? Who was abandoned by the one Being who was always supposed to love him? Well. Crowley looks into those blue eyes and trusts.

The Night That Changed an Angel (or, why does Aziraphale still wear that shabby vest?)

Mini-Meta Musing (#4)

I've been brooding for a long time about, of all things, Aziraphale's worn velvet vest and the long cream jacket he's kept in "tip top condition for over 180 years now." I love the sweet familiarity, but this is the same angel who popped across the Channel and almost lost his fluffy-topped head in 1793 for dressing like an aristocrat.

"I have standards!"

He's the height of elegance, extravagance even. A dandy. We've seen the same at the Globe Theater 1601, Edinburgh 1827, and even as a Knight of the Round Table in 527 Essex, where he's wearing a glorious pelt across his shoulders! However, sometime after Edinburgh 1827, Aziraphale's stylish extravagance ends. He adopts the dress of distinguished but modest gentility. No seamstresses strain their eyes for days hand stitching ruffles and trims for him any longer. When we next see him in 1862, his clothing is refined, simple, and serviceable. It becomes his uniform, with only minor replacements. Why? What happened to change him?

Edinburgh 1827 happened. And his encounter with tragedy ran over his sensibilities like a locomotive.

Aziraphale had, we were told, saved his earnings over time and had bought land, invested wisely, and became quite well off. He used real money, not miracles, to build the bookshop, paying the builders well and taking care of bills honestly. He built himself up to a more than comfortable lifestyle, from nearly nothing. And his clothes are real, not miracled from nothingness like Crowley's. (source: original showrunner)

Aziraphale's wealth allows him to afford luxurious tailoring and fancy shoes and ruffles and trims. He'll certainly pay the cobblers and tailors and seamstresses well for their labors. It will be a substantial expense for the era. (The linked post gives a wonderful perspective on 1793 lifestyles and costs.)

https://agoodflyting.tumblr.com/post/753227014283083776/why-aziraphales-white-satin-pumps-are-ridiculous

The angel's Edinburgh multilayered and trimmed top coat, soft leather gloves, matching scarf, jacquard vest, silk cravat, etc., look entirely out of place in the back alleys where the poor huddle. Walking the clean, gas-lit avenues with Crowley and Elspeth, Aziraphale is oblivious to the privilege he has in this world.

As he strolls along in philosophical banter with Crowley about the "blessing" of poverty, the angel spouts trite pontifications created by the rich to justify poverty. He genuinely believes Elspeth has more opportunities for goodness.  After all, look at Wee Morag.  He respects her goodness tremendously.  It proves to him his “rightness.”  And so he sabotages Elspeth’s attempt to sell the body she dug up in her attempt to support Wee Morag.  Dalrymple gets no body, Elspeth gets no money, and Aziraphale believes he’s saving her soul.

It’s a poignant moment, though, when Aziraphale cradles the jar containing a tumor from a seven year old child who died because there wasn’t enough medical knowledge to save him.  Turning point number one.  It becomes Real, not a philosophical debate.  Selling stolen bodies puts good in the world.  He’s all for it now, and goes back to encourage Elspeth.  Good heavens, he’s even willing to help this time!

But, as we know, it all goes wrong.  Wee Morag is shot by a grave gun, and dies of her injuries.  Elspeth steals laudanum, and plans suicide.  Crowley drinks the laudanum, saves her in a compassionate Scottish frenzy, and is stolen away by hell because of his kindness.   And it is All. Aziriphale’s. Fault.

Turning point number two.  Another watershed moment where Aziraphale’s world changes again.

One of Crowley’s last earthly acts, before getting plunged into hell, is to have Aziraphale give Elspeth all of his pocket money.  What is pocket money to the angel is a fortune to her, one that can set her up for a better life.  I have no doubt that in the aftermath of the traumas of that night, missing and worrying about Crowley, Aziraphale thinks about all of this.  He considers all of the money he casually spends on fine clothing and expensive tailoring.  He wonders how many lives could change if that money was better spent on helping to relieve the poverty that surrounds him.  He wants to help, and to try to make amends for the harm he caused.  What would Crowley do, if he were free to be kind? And so Aziraphale changes.

I’d love to know the story of how it all played out.  Did he sell his fine clothing and donate the proceeds?  Did he become involved in charitable foundations?  Did he buy the clothing of a simple gentleman and decide to preserve it, however worn it became, as a reminder to himself of his past blindness and vanity?  We see in Season 1 how important it is to him to preserve that coat. (Sure, it's also a fantastic opportunity to flirt and flutter those angelic eyelashes... But, nonetheless!)

By Season 2, the angel who took too long justifying a life-saving miracle for Wee Morag, and who hesitated to give Elspeth his 90 Guineas, willingly and freely gave Maggie forgiveness for thousands of pounds of debt. I'd love to know what else he's done over the last 180+ years!

Whatever happened, it began that night in a graveyard.

[nonbidiary]

Am I too safe?

Self-sabotage is the game. Confused as fuck is my name. How is it possible that I am in my first relationship with a woman and feel like I am low-key dating a man?

I dreamed of long emotional conversations about our feelings. But we only have those conversations when it gets to a point of me bringing it up. I don't want to be the one to bring it up every time.

I am trying so hard not to self sabotage this relationship. I know I can talk to them about anything and they are open. But it's just so hard being the one to bring it up everytime. I wonder if they are even as invested because they don't consider all the same things that I am considering.

I wonder if they've told their parents we are dating or why they haven't posted me on their Instagram story. I know at the end of the day, neither matter as long as we are happy but why I am I looking for answers to these questions?

I haven't told either of my parents but that's because they traumatized me for years. I am trying to keep my safety. I am also questioning why they didn't cry to Everything, Everywhere All At Once. Were they hiding their emotions? Or did the movie just not move them as much as it did me the first two times? And why does this bother me?

I posted them on my story multiple times and made tiktoks about having a girlfriend but she didn't even share the group photo of us with my friends. However, she does tell me when she talks to her friends and tells them and they retort they thought we were already dating earlier in December.

Why does any of this matter to me? Should I just be content that someone very sweet and beautiful wants to consistently meet up to kiss and cuddle? To go on dates with and work on healing parts of ourselves that are triggered while dating each other?

It just doesn't feel right. And I wonder if that's just because I've stopped being my full romantic self. The reason? I want to feel romanced too and an equal. Right now I feel like I am their person who can hold them after a bad day but if it's about me, we will only revert roles for that moment of me having an emotional breakdown?

Why is it not natural for others to want to hold me? I've experienced this since my parents had their second kid. He became their whole life and attention span because they took his learning disability seriously. Me? I struggled hard in school and instead of thinking I needed help, I was bullied by my father for not working hard enough. I was in the third grade when this first started.

Then the older I got, the more uncomfortable I felt in my body. I brushed my hair into a tight ponytail and my father would require me to wear my hair down so I "didn't look like a boy." He would be the one to tell me to straighten my curly hair. He would comment on women's bodies every day.

He would scold me and tell me to stop being his second wife when I rolled my eyes after catching him lusting after an attractive woman in view. This became even more uncomfortable when he dropped me off at college and wouldn't stop flirting with college students.

While other parents were crying and celebrating their kids, mine? He kicked me as hard as possible out of the hotel room the first night. He threw my laundry at me and told me to wash it at the hotel laundry room before I took them to the dorm because his cigarette habit had skunked our house and clothes.

He would later say he quit smoking for me... because I was costing him. So what did I do? I secretly got a job and he found out and raged at me over text for hours. What did he want from me? I was working to get myself money for what I wanted to do in life. That night I hit my last straw. I remember standing in the kids section of DD's discounts, trying to clean up the shelving when the texts kept coming. But then a friend group chat would ask me if I wanted to go to a frat party?

I had been drunk the past couple times we went out because I couldn't handle the stress of my dad monitoring my location at all hours of the day. I gave up. I went to the party. I got trashed. Made out with a tall skinny white boy. We ended up in the bathroom while he peed and I stood there. We made out for a bit and then joined the party. Somehow I ended up drunk and alone.

I wandered outside to see if I could find my friends. I saw a man named Tyler who I had followed over the summer on Twitter from an ASU 2018 follow train.

I then found a bathroom and a pack of loose tobacco to chew. I put it in my mouth and immediately regretted it.

I walked out and that's when I started to black out. I found myself holding a man's hand as he led me to his apartment. I sat down on the first bed, his roommates he urged as he pointed me to his room. I laid down as the room was spinning.

Then he was on top of me. Wait. No. My spanx and granny panties held a jumbo pad as I had started my period. I feel like the spanx is the only reason I wasn't raped that night. He tried to pull them off as my dress pushed up toward me. I panicked. I don't remember saying anything but getting up and running toward the door.

It was locked. I started to panic even more. Then I unlocked it and saw my phone where my friend rachael was calling. Then I saw Emi, Shania and Emma. They were PISSED. Shania didn't even sleep in our room that night. Emma sat with me as I cried in the bathroom.

No one understood how much I wanted to end it all. I woke up. Went to the dining hall. And then head back to Tempe to attend a smash bros competition with my friend Griffin. I wrote a story about it for the newspaper. I pushed my pain away. I couldn't handle being a sexual assault victim by a man who said his name was Goose.

It wouldn't be the first time I was SA'd. It would take years before I'd come out as a nonbinary lesbian and start having positive sexual experiences.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Obedient (Rewritten)

Soft! Yandere! Erasermic x Chubby! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

You must be 18 years old or older to participate in this reading. If you are not, please remove yourself from the line and find another piece. Thank you.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied drugging, kidnapping, reader is way too fucking calm with the situation, Stockholm Syndrome, BDSM themes, a collar, body worship, the word Daddy once, smut, double penetration (diff. holes), anal, unprotected sex, overstimulation, aftercare.

Word Count: 6.6 k

Author's Note: Alright. I've been wanting to rewrite this for a while now. Obedient was the very first fic I'd ever written and posted back in September, and my writing has changed A LOT since then. Reading the original, I realized there's a lot that I can change and tweak, and a lot that wasn't very clearly or well written (in my opinion). So, here it is!

You can find the original here.

Enjoy~

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“Happy birthday to me.” The words tumble loosely from your lips on a heaved breath, your fingers curled lazily around a cold glass of whiskey.

It isn’t a rare occurrence to see you perched atop a stool at the edge of the bar, nursing your third glass at 2am on a Friday night. Or rather Saturday morning. It’s one of the only places you can find solace, away from nosy coworkers and nosier acquaintances. The loneliness is soberingly blissful. You never cared much for social interaction.

At this point the bar is emptying, only a handful of bodies sticking around in the early hours. In the reflections of the rows of glass liquor bottles you see them again. Two lanky figures sitting in the corner booth at the back of the establishment. Any normal person would see them and think nothing. But you know better. When you first walked into the bar six months ago they were in that exact spot, and every time afterward they’d be there when you walked in and stayed after you left.

You, being observant as you are, always watched everything from your spot at the bar, the slightly warped images in the glass serving as your eyes for the night. It didn’t take long for you to figure the two were watching you every time you stepped inside. The blonde one always sat with his back to you, and his head would occasionally turn in the reflection. You’d alternate seats to make sure you weren’t imagining things, but it only confirmed what you’d suspected.

Not that you cared enough to do anything about it.

As long as they keep their distance you’re perfectly content letting them look. And they did keep their distance. They’d never even come within 5 feet of you, seemingly happy with just lingering glances. Of course, tonight would be a different story.

You watch as their glassy reflections stand up, the distance between you and them shrinking with each of their long strides. You let your eyes fall to the amber liquid in your hands, praying they’d only pass you by on their way out. Two sets of footsteps approached, two bodies popped up on either side of you, and a deep, silky smooth voice sounded on your right.

“Mind if we take a seat?” A glance to your right revealed a rugged, yet handsome man peering down at you with his deep, tired onyx eyes. Long raven hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his chiseled jaw peppered with barely tamed scruff and a scar curved along his cheekbone. You turn to look at his friend, long blonde hair pulled up into a high bun and hypnotic green eyes focused on you behind orange tinted sunglasses despite being indoors past midnight. He is handsome as well, a small mustache on his smiling lips, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline drawing you in.

You couldn’t help but feel they look familiar, somehow. You’d seen their faces before, somewhere, but you pushed that to the back of your mind for now.

It wouldn’t hurt to let them sit with you, right? They seem friendly enough, and it’s better to entertain them in case things go south should you reject their request. With a small, tired smile, you nod.

“Sure thing, fellas.” They both plop down on either side of you and the blonde immediately gets talking.

“So what’s the occasion, little listener?” Two thoughts came to mind. One, how did he know there was any occasion, two, what kind of pet name is ‘little listener’? Your confusion must have shown on your face, because the raven haired man spoke up.

“You’re pretty dolled up for a night at the bar, kitten.” Ah. So they had been watching you. You aren’t wearing anything that would normally be considered ‘dolled up’. Your tan sweater and black skirt are relatively plain, and the platform boots you’re wearing accompanied by your thigh-high socks are something you’re experimenting with.

But usually you entered the bar with a white button-up and black slacks from your job as a waitress. Today you had time to go home and pamper yourself a bit before heading to your usual drinking spot. Evidently, they noticed. You bring your glass up to your lips and gulp down the remaining liquid before entertaining the question.

“Nothing special. Call it a birthday party.” And hey, you mean it when you say it isn’t special. Your birthday only marks yet another routine year on this earth. The blonde nudges your shoulder with his own.

“I’d say that’s pretty special, sunshine!” The alcohol must be affecting you, because you chuckle a bit at his enthusiasm.

“Just another year gone by, you know?” You’re never this talkative sober. The man on your right rapped his knuckles on the bartop, the barkeep making his way over with a tired smile.

“One more glass for this pretty kitty here.” The name had your eyebrows raising.

“This one’s on me.” As the fresh glass was sat on the bartop you scoffed quietly.

“Kitty?” A deep hum came from the man.

“Well how would you describe yourself, kitten?” Somewhere in your muddled brain you warned yourself not to be self-deprecating on your 25th birthday. You didn’t listen.

“Definitely not feline. I’m short and chunky and the only thing cat-like about me is my posture and eyeliner,” you stated, matter-of-factly. As a waitress at an esteemed high-end restaurant, you had to learn to be quick on your feet, agile, and most importantly, poised. A hum comes from the blonde, a muttered ‘pretty and humble’ floating on his breath. You force a chuckle at the statement.

“Pretty is also a word I wouldn’t use to describe myself.” A short silence falls between the three of you, and you take the time to study their faces. Where had you seen them before? You’re certain if you’d met them before you’d remember them, you don’t tend to forget attractive people.

They’re oddly patient as they watch the cogs in your brain turn, your eyes taking in every detail of every feature. Your breath caught and your eyes went wide when you’d finally placed their faces.

“Present Mic and Eraserhead. You’re pro heroes.” The words are quiet, nearly imperceptible as you breathe them, but they’re close enough to hear. Present Mic beams at the recognition.

“In the flesh, sunshine. But we’d prefer you use our names.” Eraserhead leans away and sticks a hand out for a handshake.

“Shouta Aizawa.” You shake his hand and turn to the blonde, who similarly has his hand held out.

“Hizashi Yamada.” You introduce yourself, a bit shaky and only slightly starstruck. What in the world are two pro heroes doing talking to you? As you regain your composure you excuse yourself to the restroom. You weren’t prepared to talk to heroes tonight. A glance in the mirror has you sobering yourself, rationalizing their strange behavior. These two are pro heroes. They were clearly only worried about your safety, a woman all alone in a bar till the earliest hours of the morning. ‘That’s why they were watching me’, you muse. You quickly fix yourself, then step back out to the two heroes.

The three of you pass another hour of time before you decide it’s time for you to head home. They offer to give you a lift, but you politely decline. You can't intrude on them any more than you already had. Hizashi insists otherwise.

“Please Sunshine? If something were to happen to you we’d never forgive ourselves!” It made sense to you. They’re pro heroes after all, it’s in their nature to worry. So you oblige to ease their anxieties.

Since Shouta hadn’t touched any alcohol, he’s driving, and you punch your address into the GPS system of their very expensive looking car. As you sit back, Hizashi holds a bottle over his head.

“Water?” You thank him and drain the bottle, realizing you’re a bit more dehydrated than you initially thought. In your semi-drunk haze you fail to notice that the bottle had already been opened, and you miss Shouta’s eyes watching you down the beverage through the rearview mirror.

It’s only five minutes later you feel drowsy, your head lolling to the side and eyelids drooping. You don’t quite register the question Hizashi asks you, and when you don’t answer he turns around to look at you.

“You seem tired, Sunshine. Take a nap, we’ll wake you up when we get there.” Your exhaustion takes hold over any rational thoughts, and with a sleepy nod, you stretch out over the backseat and let your mind slip into unconsciousness, blissfully unaware you’ll never see your apartment again.

The first thing you notice as you wake up is how stiff and sore your muscles are. It takes you a moment to realize you aren’t in your clothes from last night, nor are you in your own bed. Your eyes snap open and you sit up, taking in the unfamiliar room. With a curse under your breath you scour your memory for anything, checking if you’d gone home with anyone or gotten yourself in a tight situation. The last thing you remember is being driven home by the two pros, then passing out in their backseat.

Questions began forming in your mind. ‘Where am I? How did I get here? Where had the two heroes gone?’ In an attempt to think clearer, you try crossing your legs, but your ankle is stopped short by something heavy. Throwing off the blanket, a thick metal cuff glinted in the light of the room, an equally thick chain leading somewhere over the side of the bed.

When your breathing begins to quicken, you settle your mind, refusing to panic. Willing yourself to relax, you begin to think about how you can get out of this situation. ‘Today should be Saturday. Assuming this room is part of a house, someone would most likely still be here’. With a small breath, you speak, hopefully loud enough for someone to hear you.

“H-hello? Is someone there?” It only takes a few seconds for footsteps to reach your ears, and the door opens to the last person you’re expecting to see. A ruggedly handsome Shouta Aizawa stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a small smirk on his lips.

“Good morning, Kitty.” As endearing as the pet name is, the only emotion you feel right now is confusion. Your mind is drifting to all the fanfiction you’d read online, piecing together the events of last night like a puzzle. ‘The bottle of water was already open’. In your defense, they’re pro heroes, it’s only natural for you-- or anyone, really-- to let your guard down. A large hand on your shoulder jolts you back to reality, your eyes wide as you stare up at Shouta like a deer in headlights.

“You okay Kitten?” All you can manage as you settle your thoughts is to blink up at the man, swallowing down the lump in your throat before letting out a shaky breath.

“Let me guess. I’m home now, aren’t I?” The man stares back down at you with subtly raised eyebrows before chuckling softly.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. You’re a smart little kitty, aren’t you.” He leaves you to your thoughts and your mind begins reeling once again. You understand this is wrong, that you shouldn’t be so willing, so obedient. You also know how boring your life has been up until now. How mundane and lonely you’d been for as long as you can remember.

You’d cut ties with your family long ago, and ‘friend’ is a very loose term. Most of the people you called friends are acquaintances at best, your antisociality and trust issues meant ‘making friends’ is not on your life agenda. Somehow you knew, deep down, you wanted something like this to happen. You longed to give up control, to let someone else string you along and take the reins and let you relax, not have to worry about anything anymore. That side of you tended to make itself known through your explorative late teen years.

You’d had romantic partners before, though once anything intimate came up they all refused to associate with you anymore. They couldn’t understand your want to give up control, your need to submit. They refused to collar you ‘like an animal’. None of your partners ever understood the weight behind such a garment. This may be your chance at the relationship you’d always craved, regardless of its twisted nature.

Then there’s the logical side, the chances of you actually escaping. As a quirkless human in the presence of two trained pro heroes (assuming Hizashi is also in on this), the likelihood of you making it out is slim to nonexistent. If you somehow manage to get out, the two could easily track you down and just as easily drag you back. So, as wrong as it seems, you don’t fight it.

Shouta returns with a tray of breakfast, setting it down on your lap after you’d adjusted yourself to lean against the headboard. As he pulls back you mumble a ‘thank you’ and begin to eat, acknowledging the pang of hunger in your belly. As weird as it seems to say ‘thank you’ to your captor, you find it could be helpful even if only a little. Being polite is automatic, but it’s also a great way to make sure you don’t end up injured, or worse, dead somewhere, so for once in a long time your manners are intended. You’d gotten halfway through your meal when Shouta speaks up.

“You’re taking this really well.” He almost seems skeptical. You peer up at him as you finish the food in your mouth.

“There isn’t much use panicking. I’d only end up hurting myself. Besides, it’s not like I can get out.” You motion to the cuff around your ankle and he gives a small chuckle.

“You’re not wrong, kitten.” He leaves to let you finish breakfast, returning ten minutes later and taking your empty tray. He comes back right after, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold in hand.

“I’m sure you need to use the bathroom.” You give a small nod, acknowledging the pressure in your bladder for the first time since you woke up. Gently, he takes your wrists and locks the cuffs around them, then holds up the blindfold before going to tie it around your head.

“These are just a precaution.” Soon you feel the cuff on your ankle fall away, and Shouta’s strong arms loop under your knees and back as he lifts you off the bed.You’re both surprised and not that he can lift you with relative ease. He is a pro hero after all. It takes less than 30 seconds for him to stop and gently place you down, taking the blindfold and cuffs off.

“I’ll be waiting just outside the door. Once you’re done, knock and I’ll take you back to bed.” You nod and he leaves, locking the door once he’s outside. Of course it locks from the outside. You take a moment to just think about your current predicament. Currently you’re locked in the house of a pro hero, being kept against your will (sort of). Your life had just taken an unexpected turn.

You knock on the door like Shouta said, and it isn’t long before you’re back on the bed with the cuff around your ankle. As he turns to leave you stop him, and he turns back to you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Can I...draw?” You didn’t know if he’d actually let you have anything, but it was worth a shot. If you were to be cooped up here you need to keep yourself occupied. With a low hum, he leaves the room and comes back with a sketch pad, pencil, and eraser.

Days come and go with either of the pros serving you three meals a day. They begin questioning your obedience, especially Hizashi. He questioned your lack of panic and how you never seemed to try to escape. Even he knows this isn’t normal. Shouta seems less skeptical, like he’d expected less of a fight than any normal, sane person would give. When Hizashi asked questions you answered truthfully. Lying is of no use to you.

“Really, I don’t mind it here. So far my life has been pretty shitty and boring, so this turn of events is mildly appreciated. Besides, you treat me relatively well, considering I’m being held captive, so I can’t say I’m upset.” You’d guessed from both your reading and their actions that they truly believed they cared about you. The chances of them hurting you are slim, so you’re able to live with them without fear.

The cuff around your ankle came off about a week in, and Shouta gave you the freedom to roam the house, though it wasn’t without warning. He held his hand out to you, an offer to help you stand, and you took it. Slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and shift your weight to your feet. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn, but Shouta held you to let you stretch your legs and get comfortable walking again.

He led you out to what you assume is the dining table and sat you down, Shouta taking the seat on your right. You assume Hizashi is in the kitchen, what with the clatter and smell of food. Shouta asked what you’d been drawing, which caught you a bit off guard, but you answered anyway.

“Koi fish.” He hummed, focused on you.

“Any particular reason why?” You take a moment to think about your answer, it’s not a question you’re used to responding to.

“Well they’re gorgeous creatures. Elegant, sleek and graceful. The way they move is so mesmerizing, smooth and flawless like a flowing creek. I’ve always loved drawing koi.”

The conversation lapses into your fascination with the fish, how they somehow remind you of dragons and how the fantastical creature’s existence isn’t as far-fetched as it’s made out to be. Hizashi joins soon enough, serving dinner and listening in on the conversation.

Once you all finish eating you get comfortable on the couch, nestled between the two men. It isn’t long before you drift off to sleep, their body heat lulling you into dreamland. Shouta carries you to bed, carefully laying you down and pressing a light kiss to your temple. He stands above you, admiring your features as you sleep.

You’re gorgeous to him, a goddess in your own right. He and his blonde counterpart had started watching you mainly because you were a woman, completely alone and seemingly unarmed in a bar until the earliest hours of the morning. Neither of them could tell if you were quirkless or not, and as heroes they made sure to keep an eye on you during their weekly trip to the bar should you get into any trouble.

But eventually it became a habit to look for you, and the more they looked the farther they fell. You looked as exhausted as Shouta every time you stepped through the doors, hair just beginning to lose its style and shoulders sagged. But you were so beautiful, even in your exhausted state. Hizashi was the first to mention his infatuation to Shouta, but the raven-haired man had already figured the blonde was into you.

Soon enough they began to get antsy, constantly watching you walk out the door into the dead of night all alone. You’re just too trusting of the world outside, not taking enough precautions for a woman of your caliber. They made it their mission to make sure you were safe, and one day, take you back home where they could protect you.

Now that you’re here, it’s like a dream. Even as you sleep you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. How your lashes flutter against your cheeks, the way your lips softly part with every breath, how your chest gently rises and falls, it all makes him stare down at you in complete awe. It takes a great deal of willpower for him to tear his eyes away from you and join Hizashi in their room.

*

***3 months later***

*

A couple months have passed since you’d...moved in with the two men, and you can’t say you hate it. They’ve respected your privacy, allowing you to stay in your own room and letting you bathe yourself after refusing their attempts at persuading you to join them. Honestly it’s been nice living with them.

Though, the longer you’re with them the more thoughts begin gathering and swirling in your head. Caring thoughts, how their days progress, how they’re feeling at any point in time. And needy, dirty thoughts. Any time those pop up you make it a point to push them deep down into the farthest recesses of your brain, refusing to fuel those pesky embers.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know what’s happening, what’s been happening. You’re no stranger to Stockholm Syndrome, having done your own minimal research on the subject a few years back. You constantly tell yourself this isn’t normal, nor is it healthy, to enjoy the company of your captors. You have to remind yourself that they had taken you from everything you knew, and even though there wasn’t much for you to love, they’d taken you from that as well.

But soon enough the illogical prevailed, because despite all of that, the two have been nothing but good to you.

In no time at all the days you spend alone in the large house are the days you find yourself missing their company, hoping they’d return sooner. You managed to dig through their clothes and pick out some of their older t-shirts, and began wearing them around the house. Their lingering scents have been a comfort as you patiently wait for them to come back. They don’t seem to mind at all, so you’re content.

As time passes you get closer with them, gravitating toward them and snuggling into either of their sides, letting them wrap an arm around you and tug you into them. You began giving kisses when they left and returned, a small peck on the cheek at the door. The first time you had engaged a kiss was a shock to both of them.

You had tugged Shouta’s sleeve and when he turned you silently grabbed his collar and yanked him down, leaving a small peck on his cheek, doing the same with Hizashi. They barely had the time to react before you dashed to your room and curled under the blankets, face heated and heart pounding like some schoolgirl who had confessed to her crush and got a positive response. That night you’d received more cuddles and kisses than normal.

The kisses became routine, and before long you all slept in the same bed. Strangely enough, life began to feel somewhat normal. The house began to feel like home.

And soon enough that schoolgirl crush manifested into something dirty, something lustful and carnal. Just as much as you long to be around them, you want desperately to feel their hands on your bare skin, mapping out the curves of your body as you writhe beneath them. You crave them and their touch. But of course you still have your pride. Dropping hints would have to suffice.

Slowly, subtly, you dress lighter, more scantily. No shorts under their t-shirts that barely cover your ass, allowing the stretched collars to drop and expose the slightest peek of skin. After a shower you walk back to the room in nothing but a towel, allowing the edge to ride up your thighs. Your tactics seemed to work, their eyes glued to the newly exposed skin, soaking in your plush thighs and soft skin. Their stares make you ache, but after weeks of nothing but lingering glances you decide to toss your pride out the window.

You have dinner ready when they walk in the door, and after everyone had eaten and showered you usher them both to the couch while you sit facing them from the coffee table. Their confusion is evident on their faces, your nervous fidgeting and reluctance to look them in the eyes didn’t help. What you’re about to bring up is embarrassing to say the least, but staying silent would be a detriment to your sanity. With a steadying breath, you meet their gaze and quietly force out your seemingly ridiculous request.

“So… I enjoy being here with you,” your fingers twist into the hem of your shirt and you swallow down the lump in your throat, “and I really appreciate that you’ve given me anything I asked for-”

“No.” Shouta’s voice suddenly cuts off your sentence.

“You can’t go outside, Kitten. I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable right now.” You blink dumbly at him, completely thrown off balance by his statement before you catch yourself, waving your hands frantically in front of you.

“No! Oh god, that’s not…um…. I wasn’t asking to go outside. I love being here, with you, and doing whatever but...it’s what we don’t do...that’s bothering me...just a little bit…” By now your voice is so quiet and high-pitched you wonder if they can even hear you. Hizashi, bless his heart, is just as confused as before the conversation started.

“Sunshine, you aren’t making much sense. If you think about it, there’s actually a lot we don’t do.” Shouta holds a hand up, silencing the blonde. His dark eyes drag over your body, watching the way your thighs almost imperceptibly rub together and you can’t meet his gaze. You squirm, the intensity in his eyes something you aren’t used to but it makes you hot all over. His hand comes down on his thigh twice.

“Come here, Kitty.” Slowly, you stand and walk to him, letting his hands grab your hips and pull you down to straddle his lap. A finger curls under your chin, angling your head to look Shouta in the eyes. A small smirk pulls the corner of his mouth, a moment of realization flashing across his face.

“Our little Kitty is getting needy ‘Zashi. Isn’t that right, Kitten?” Heat flooded your face, your embarrassment and arousal sending hot blood to your face and chest. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, hoping they’d do something about the very horny state you’re in. Shouta’s hand moves to your hip again, lifting you and placing you in Hizashi’s lap before standing and walking away.

The blonde cooed at the surprised squeak you let out at the sudden movement, and you open your eyes to his wide grin. Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. It feels nice, and you let your body melt into him and his warmth, his long fingers digging into the flesh of your lower back as he tugs you closer and a pleasant haze settles over your mind.

It’s a blissful moment shared between you, and Shouta returns just as Hizashi pulls away from the kiss. They share a look you can’t place before the former raises a hand to gently stroke your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He seems conflicted, trying to mull over some sort of decision in his brain, his brows just barely drawn and jaw set. When his eyes dropped to his other hand, yours followed, to find he held a long thin black velvet box. Clearly it holds some sort of jewelry.

After a few moments he turns it to you and lifts the lid, and your heart damn near stops beating. Whether it’s from excitement or a brief flash of fear, you don’t know. These two have been watching you for much longer than just at the bar. Those few months are only the tip of the iceberg, but how they’d come to notice you would probably forever remain a mystery to you.

Right now, all that matters is that they know everything. From your failed relationships to the reason they’d all ended. They had to know, that’s the only explanation. There’s no possible way it’s pure coincidence that you now gaze down at a beautifully crafted leather collar. It’s simple, thin, black dotted sparsely with sparkling gems and a dainty metal ring centered at the front. Tentatively, you reach out and trace the leather with your fingers.

“Is this...for me?” A deep hum sounds in Shouta’s chest, and that’s answer enough for you. Shouta plucks the garment from its seat and moves behind you. The cool leather feels heavenly as he loops it around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. Everything seemed to go quiet as you waited for something, anything, to solidify this moment.

Click.

You shudder out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Shouta tilts your head and presses his lips to yours, looping a finger through the collar and giving a gentle tug. It makes you mewl, allowing him space to slip his tongue behind your teeth. He can see your pupils dilate when he pulls away, plush lips slick with saliva, lust invading your mind. You look so needy and desperate for them, so fucking gorgeous.

Hizashi leaves a kiss on your cheek then picks you up and places you on your feet. Both men grab either of your hands, lacing their fingers with yours, and gently pull you with them to the bedroom. Hizashi begins undressing first, and you can only let your eyes drag over his bare upper body for a moment before Shouta grabs your chin and distracts you with another kiss. This one is more passionate, heated, rough as his tongue effortlessly invades and dominates your mouth. Hizashi’s voice permeates your lust-filled haze.

“Come here, baby.” Shouta pulls away and allows you to walk over to where the blonde sits naked on the edge of the bed. He motions for you to turn around and you oblige, then he grabs your hips and pulls you back to sit in his lap, your back pressed to his chest. You watch as Shouta undresses, baring his skin to you as Hizashi tasks himself with undressing you.

Your shirt is the first to be removed, a groan spilling from the blonde when he discovers you aren’t wearing a bra. He pulls you flush against his chest, peppering wet kisses down your neck and shoulders as your eyes roam over Shouta’s sculpted frame. The raven haired man makes his way over, kneeling down between your legs and reaching up to toy with your breasts, rough fingers working your nipples until they peak. Hizashi’s hands find their way down to the pouch of your stomach, grabbing at the soft pliant flesh and squishing the fat there.

You let out a low whine, feeling extremely self-conscious with his hands working at the parts of your body you hate the most. You grab at his wrists in an attempt to pull him away, but he hushes you and whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

“It’s okay, pretty baby. Let me feel you.” You will yourself to let him go, let his hands explore your body the way he wants. He keeps his hands on your belly, long fingers massaging into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He’s nipping and kissing at your neck, whispering praises into your ear as he fondles all the fatty parts of you.

Shouta’s hands reach up and tug your panties down, then grip your thighs and pull them apart, exposing you to his hungry eyes. You can’t help but feel exposed, uncomfortable, as they touch and gaze at every part of yourself you had always despised. A whimper builds in your chest, tears beginning to sting your eyes and your breath shaking. Hizashi leans over and kisses your tears away as Shouta leans forward and kisses at your belly and thighs, hands working at whatever flesh he couldn’t get his lips on.

“Let us love you. All of you. You’re such a pretty kitty.” You let yourself relax, let yourself relish in the fact that these two gorgeous men are doting over your body like you’re a goddess, like they couldn’t live if they didn’t worship every one of your perfect imperfections. Though you’re far from comfortable, the initial fear subsides, allowing them full access to you.

“Good girl kitty, good girl.” Shouta whispers as he nips at your thighs, sucking little red marks into your skin. He hooks your legs over Hizashi’s, and the blonde’s fingers dip down to tease your folds, barely breaching your little hole and making you buck for more friction. A soft moan slips from your lips as he pushes two long fingers into your soaked pussy.

You rock your hips into his hand, his palm barely brushing against your clit making you mewl. Shouta focuses his attention on your breasts and belly where Hizashi left bare, kneading and kissing and licking, leaving blooming marks all over your skin. Soon you feel a knot form in your stomach, tightening and burning impossibly hot. Hizashi feels your pussy clenching around his fingers and quickens his pace, grinding his palm down against your clit hard and curling his fingers to hit that spot that has you seeing stars.

When the knot snaps you’re falling apart on Hizashi’s lap, back arched and legs shaking. You throw your head back against his shoulder and cry out, pleasure racking your body in intense waves. Hizashi keeps moving his fingers inside you, letting you ride out your high, legs trembling and toes curling with the continued stimulation.

After your release you relax back down, chest heaving with every breath. Hizashi lifts you up and lays you down on the bed, Shouta crawling up over you and kissing you sweetly. He grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, lining up his painfully hard erection with your throbbing pussy.

“Are you ready for me kitty?” You look up at him through your lashes and nod fervently, needing him desperately despite the sensitivity. He tugs at your collar gently.

“Use your words kitty cat. Are you ready for me?” Your eyes widen slightly and you answer without any real thought.

“Yes Daddy.” Shouta growls at the name and swears under his breath, thrusting his hips forward and bottoming out all at once. The air is punched from your lungs, the stretch around his thick length almost enough to make you cum a second time. Shouta leans down and kisses at the bruises Hizashi had left on your neck, giving you some time to adjust. It only takes a few moments for your walls to stop clamping down on him.

“I’m going to move now kitty. Relax for me.” He starts slow, groaning as he watches his length slide in and out of you.

Your warmth feels so good around his cock, and he moves faster, driving his cock so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Hizashi lays down next to you and puts two fingers into your mouth, your tongue sliding over them, coating them in your saliva.

He pulls them out and goes to rub your clit, leaning over and placing open mouth kisses along your collarbone, sucking new bruises onto your skin. Your legs quake with the quick building pleasure, your second orgasm creeping up fast. Suddenly both men stop their movements, Shouta pulling your body flush against him and sitting up.

Lithe, cold fingers suddenly dance around your back entrance, toying with your puckered hole. A single finger pushes in and you mewl and squirm at the new sensation. A second finger works its way in, the two digits working to stretch you gently. Soon there’s a third, and when you’re relaxed the fingers are gone and replaced by the thick head of Hizashi’s cock.

“You ready, sweet thing?” You nod and whine, a little weary but ready to be full of the two men. He slowly inches his way inside, shallow thrusts sinking him deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. Both men pepper wet kisses along your shoulders, giving you time to relax, but you don’t need it. You whine, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get them to move, and they oblige.

Their initial pace is slow, letting you feel every ridge and vein as they slip in and out of you. They build up a rhythm, when one is bottomed out the other has only the tip in, and soon you’re drooling from the amount of stimulation you’re getting. Hizashi’s fingers move down to work at your clit, and just the slightest touch has you trembling. The stimulation shoves you over the edge and has you cumming hard around them, your slick dripping down your thighs. They slow their pace slightly, your holes clamping down on them and attempting to milk them dry. Hizashi’s fingers rub your clit harder, overstimulating you.

“Do you have one more for us baby? I know you can cum one more time for us.” You whine, thrashing in their arms trying to simultaneously get away and tug them closer. Tears fall down your cheeks and a familiar tension fills the pit of your stomach and Shouta leans over and bites down on your shoulder. The pain pulls you over, crying out as you clamp down on their lengths hard. Their hips stutter as they chase their own release, and they shoot rope after rope of cum into you as you ride out your own high.

They still their movements, holding you and each other close. After a few moments they pull out together, the movement making you moan and tremble. Your body goes limp and Shouta pulls you to lean against him, stroking your hair and back. You’re sobbing softly into Shouta’s shoulder, your last release washing over your body almost painfully, your bones already beginning to ache. Shouta rubs your back softly and Hizashi peppers soft kisses along your shoulders, both cooing praises in your ears.

Shouta picks you up and the three of you go over to the bathroom, where Hizashi plugs the drain and turns on the tap to fill the large tub with hot water. Shouta climbs in and sits down, still cradling you, and the slowly rising water begins to soothe you. Hizashi pulls out a tube of ointment and rubs it onto Shouta’s back, relieving the scratch marks you left on him. After tending to Shouta he unlocks your collar and sinks into the tub, leaning against you. You let the two massage you and wash you, bringing you back from the intense scene.

“You okay kitten?” Shouta rumbles into your ear, petting your hair. You nod into his shoulder and grab Hizashi’s hand, wanting to be close to the both of them. The hot water and the care of the two bring you back down to earth, and you start to feel fatigue pulling at your consciousness. Hizashi notices you drifting off and takes you from Shouta. He dries you off with a towel and locks your collar back around your neck.

“Sho, I’m going to take her to bed. When you’re ready come join us.” Shouta hums and Hizashi carries you to bed.

You lay with Hizashi and cuddle into his chest, letting him hold you and rock you as you drift off. After a few minutes you feel the bed behind you dip and look up at Shouta with half lidded eyes. He gives you a peck on the lips before nuzzling against your back. With a long, soft sigh you melt into their arms, content with the new life you’d been brought into.

[rocorambles]

Ruined Innocence

Pairing: Fallen Angel!Daichi x Angel!Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Manipulation, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Tentacles-ish, Forced Bondage, Corruption Kink, Dacryphilia

Summary: Not everyone is what they appear to be and you learn that the hard way.

A/N: This is for @seijorhi 's Deal with the Devil Collab! Masterlist can be found here.

You don’t love the way older angels endearingly pinch your cheeks and fondly ruffle the top of your head, sending you off on your way as they go about their chores. But you love the freedom to explore that comes with your new wings and you flit around heaven, adventuring out to the corners of the beautiful realm, eyes sparkling and mouth open wide in wonder as you see visions and scenes you wouldn’t even have been able to imagine back when you were a human.

Most angels congregate with each other, floating and meandering together as they perform their heavenly duties, content with harmony and unity. But maybe because your newly purified soul is still finding its way, you feel antsy, a very human adventurous streak still driving you as you sniff out remote and quiet corners, eager to see what’s around every corner.

There’s not a hint of wariness or sense of danger as you trek around, squealing as you continue testing your wings. Maybe it’s naivety, but who can blame you? You’re in heaven. Why would you ever think anything or anyone would harm you here?

Little do you know the archangels whisper to each other, sentries standing guard at every known opening between realms as the threat of warfare and espionage increases between heaven and hell after a devastating betrayal by one of God’s own most trusted archangels.

Sawamura Daichi.

It’s a name and a face that God has striked from heaven’s history, wiping the minds of anyone outside his inner circle clear of to maintain peace among the realm. And it works. Maybe too well.

A handsome brunette amusedly smiles at the lack of fear and recognition in your face as you cheerfully greet him, not a care in the world as you perk up and fly over to him, curious about the strange angel you’ve never met before.

Daichi had only meant to sneak in and out, hopefully spy and return back to hell with any secret information he could get out of his old fellow archangels. But like an attuned predator, his attention had snapped at the pretty little fawn he had seen playing in the outskirts of heaven, so vulnerable, so far from the rest of your feathery flock. And his mouth had salivated, something dark and yearning inside of him as he imagined how delicious corrupting your soft and sweet soul would be.

There’s no lack of powerful, beautiful, sensual female entities in hell willing to warm his bed. Daichi knows from firsthand experience, rarely spending a night alone. Even eternity is too short not to indulge in the sins of the flesh. But a part of him misses the docile submissive natures of angels, the thrill of power he feels knowing how easily his more angelic partners would listen and obey to his every whim and fancy. Playing with your food is all fun and games, but Daichi’s always found the actual act of devouring to be the best part of any meal. And you look absolutely mouth watering.

It doesn’t concern you that you’ve never seen this handsome angel before. Heaven is vast and as a novice angel, you’re sure there’s plenty of feathery companions you haven’t met yet. You’re more pleasantly surprised by the fact that there even is another angel in your secluded nook of the realm. And you’re quick to get comfortable with Daichi (although you blush when he so quickly tells you to call him by his first name).

He’s kind and funny. You can tell he’s actually listening to your every word and not just politely nodding like most of the other older angels you’ve met so far. He has a certain vibrancy to him that you can’t pinpoint, something so much more raw and vivid than what you’re used to from the more austere and demure palette of the rest of heaven.

But you startle when Daichi suddenly reaches out and slowly trails his fingers along the soft velvety plush of your wings, eliciting a startled gasp from you and a strange stirring feeling inside of you.

“They’re so pure and white.”

You try to laugh off the way your heart is pounding, the way your body wants to instinctively lean in closer to his warm touch as he continues languidly stroking your wings.

“Don’t be silly, Daichi. I’m sure your wings are just as pure and white, just like everyone else in this realm.”

You’re confused by his silent smile as he continues lacing his fingers between your downy feathers, but you don’t think to question it, not when it feels so right to just melt in the soothing feeling.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but you startle awake when someone nudges you, face heating in embarrassment when you realize you’ve fallen asleep quite literally in Daichi’s arms. But you shyly smile when he waves off your profuse apologies, playfully whispering that you can make it up to him by keeping your meeting with him a secret so he doesn’t get in trouble for slacking off on work to hang out with you.

Your lips are sealed and in return for your slightly naughty deal, your heart warms and your eyes sparkle when he somehow finds you almost every day. You’re tempted to make a game of it, wondering if you made more of an effort to hide if he’d still find you. But somehow deep inside you know he would, that it wouldn’t deter him at all. And that thought alone brings a smile to yourself.

Is this what having a soulmate feels like? Do angels even have soulmates?

You know marriage is still a thing in this realm and you can feel yourself falling more and more head over heels for Daichi, letting yourself dream and think of what life would be like married to him, by his side for all of eternity. It would be a wondrous thing. A life full of adventures, laughter, kindness, and warmth. A life where you know you could always depend on him and trust him.

So when he kisses you one day, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you in close, you don’t resist. Instead you sigh in bliss as you feel your lips meld against each other. He’s so gentle, so careful as he deepens your connection, coaxing you into following his lead as he maneuvers the two of you on the wispy cloud cocoon beneath your feet.

You feel so loved, so taken care of as he murmurs sweet praises in your ear about how beautiful you are, how soft you are, how sweet you taste. But when you find yourself horizontal beneath him, scandalously molded to his body, hesitation and apprehension have you reluctantly separating your lips.

“What’s wrong?”

His hand cups your cheek, brown eyes staring down at you in concern and you feel more at ease as you nuzzle against his palm, gently pecking the center of it, ignorant of the way brown eyes darken at the action.

He’s going to fucking ruin you.

“Can we- Can we slow down a bit? I love you, but we shouldn’t go any further until God blesses our relationship and we’re married. Right?”

It’s adorable how you know what’s right by heavenly standards, what you should and shouldn’t be doing. Yet there’s still a questioning lilt in your voice as you look at him for guidance, ready to take his lead and listen to whatever he says. You really are precious, aren’t you?

“We’ll be together forever. So what’s the harm in indulging ourselves now if we know that we’ll be bound for eternity anyway? Consider it a little sneak peek. Surely God will be forgiving if we go straight to him after this and ask him to bless our union.”

Hook. Line. Sinker.

He internally smirks at how your eyes light up when he expresses his desire to be with you. To his defense, it’s not a lie. He truly does want you with him forever, although he doubts it’s in the way you’re thinking. He’s no mind reader, but he can imagine the scenes of soft radiant glowing days and peaceful strolls hand in hand that race through your mind when you think of love. Unfortunately for you, the reality you’re being sucked into is much darker and much more stationary. (He sincerely hopes you appreciate the costs and efforts he’s gone through to spruce up his bedroom and bed as much as possible for your long-term stay considering it’s the only place he intends for you to see for at least a few centuries.)

This time you welcome him when he swoops down to capture your lips once more, your arms gently wrapping around the back of his neck as you pull him down even closer to you. You bare your neck, easily following his silent commands as he trails kisses down from the corner of your lips to the side of your neck, gasping and arching into him when his tongue swipes a hot wet line at the junction of your shoulder.

You’re nervous as he coaxes you out of your delicate clothing and his cock twitches in interest at how you try to instinctively shield your body from his eyes, your arms crossing your chest, thighs clenching together. So different from the shameless females down below and he enjoys how it feels like he’s unwrapping an exclusive present as he eases your body, comfortingly kissing you as he guides your hands above your head and nudges your legs apart until he’s in between them.

You moan, writhing underneath him in a way that makes him groan as he sucks one of your nipples, rolling the other between his fingers. And he can’t resist how right it feels to grind and rut his clothed cock against your bare core, chuckling at how you whine and get flustered as he whispers to you about how wet you are, how much of a mess you’re making of his clothing.

You’re so sensitive, so reactive. He wonders if you could cum just like this, nipples toyed with and humping like wild beasts. You certainly look like you’re almost there and a mean smile splays across his face when he wonders what God would think if he saw his baby angel now, a lewd blissful expression blatant on your face, wanton moans filling the air. But time is limited especially when he’s not on his own turf and as much as he’d like to ruin you over and over again right here, right now, he knows he needs to deal the final blow.

He’s quick to shed his own clothing, firmly wrapping your spread legs around him as he finally sinks his cock inch by inch inside of you, throwing his own head back in pleasure as your tight wet walls wrap around him, eagerly sucking him in and clenching around him. It’s like you were made for him, made for this. And his eyes ravenously watch as you mindlessly blabber on and on about feeling full, feeling good.

He doesn’t usually like noisy bed mates, but you might be the one exception and he revels in your wails and broken cries as he begins to move his hips back and forth, observing how his fat cock obscenely stretches your pretty folds as he thrusts in and out. It’s impressive how you’re still hanging by a single fraying strand of consciousness when even seasoned succubi have succumbed into mindless pleasure-addicted messes from his cock. And he gifts the slipping clarity of your mind that recognizes him and calls his name over and over again with skillful circles around your clit, relentless until you’re thrashing and convulsing, practically screaming as you fall over the edge, pussy milking him and begging for his essence.

Who is he to deny you what your body wants? What your body needs? What he himself wants and needs?

So he finally lets himself go, sealing the deal with his own release, eyes twinkling in crazed amusement as his own wings finally flair out, revealing themselves to you for the first time as his body lances with pleasure. A sound halfway between a laugh and a groan escapes him as fear has you tightening around him and if he thought you looked beautiful before, you’re absolutely stunning now, shock and disbelief slicing across your perfect angelic face when you fully grasp the importance of his pitch black wings that shadow the both of you.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. I thought you loved me.”

There’s no point in pretending to be gentle now and he forcefully pins your body down, slamming his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, biting on your lower lip and lapping at the blood that drips from your now marred face. Delicious. So fucking exquisite.

It’s tempting to continue and as he pulls away to regard you, he can feel arousal swirling inside of him at the sight of glistening tears streaming down your face. But he’s curious about your reaction, eager to hear what you have to say about this utter betrayal.

“A fallen angel…I slept with a fallen angel. How am I ever going to face God now?”

You’re not even looking at him anywhere, eyes glazed over as you mumble to yourself, mind still trying to process everything. And as pretty as you are with agony and sickening realization settling into your features, he scowls at the mention of God, irritation swelling inside of him at how fast you are to think of Him over Daichi, the fallen angel literally still inside of you.

He’s swift in his punishment, reminding you exactly where you are and who you’re with right now as he sharply juts his hips in a way that forces a surprised shriek from you as his cock rubs against your still sensitive walls.

“God isn’t your problem anymore, love. Look at your wings.”

Every part of you still in denial screams at you not to listen, to pretend none of this has happened, is happening. You want to believe God can make this right, that he’ll surely forgive you. But as if you’re in one of those inevitable horror films you used to watch as a human, your head slowly turns to the side, body going rigid when you see the expanse of ebony feathers where heavenly white used to be.

Now this reaction is much more satisfying and Daichi inhales your fear, a cold smile on his face as he watches you flail, wings wildly flapping as you try to somehow shake off the color, praying that it’s all a lie, that it’s not entirely irreversible. But he pins your wrists above your head when you attempt to painfully pluck out your own offensive feathers, peppering humiliatingly affectionate kisses all over your face to placate you.

“Please stop. Isn’t this enough? You got what you wanted. Tricked the silly angel. Made me an exile, a monster. There’s no place for me in heaven anymore. So just leave me alone. Please.”

You shudder at the dark laugh that seems to echo in your ears with his face right besides yours, cringing when you feel his wings droop down to rest against your own in an action far too intimate for what the two of you are.

“It’s not enough, darling. It’ll never be enough. But you’re right about one thing. You’re no longer welcomed in heaven, so let me bring you to your new home.”

You barely have time to understand the meaning of his words before you’re being whisked away, strong arms holding you tightly to a broad chest, the air around you growing darker, heavier, warmer. And then suddenly everything is still and you gasp as you’re thrown onto a silky plush surface, scrambling to sit up only to freeze in terror as you take in the grand and imposing bedroom you’re in, cold realization of exactly whose bed you’re currently on and what realm you’re in sinking in.

“No no no no no...At least let me go to Earth!”

You make to lunge off the bed, but an eerily familiar body forces you back down, once comforting brown eyes now only making anxiety churn alarmingly inside of you.

“I know it’s hard to believe me after all the lies, but I wasn’t lying about one thing. I do intend to be with you forever, so get comfortable, angel.”

You recoil at the mocking sneer associated with the pet name, the ironic use of the word disintegrating any fight left in you when the true hopelessness of your situation makes itself known. And Daichi watches in satisfaction at how you don’t even twitch as black shadows coil around your wrist and ankles, pulling you into a spread-eagled position, leaving your beautiful naked figure on full display for him.

But as despondent as you are mentally and emotionally, your body is already well on its way to adjusting and molding to his desires and he hungrily eyes the way it betrays you, arching and silently begging for more as additional shadow tendrils snake their way on and around every inch of you, some tendrils beginning to make their way in your gaping mouth, your still cum-filled hole, and oh...maybe he should have warned you that he planned on training all your holes, but he does so love the way your eyes blow wide open when a curios tendril wiggles its way into your puckered hole.

“Consider this your new full-time job, angel. Can’t have you living here rent-free after all. Now be good while I’m away and try not to be so loud. Wouldn’t want anyone else to hear you and decide they want a taste of a new fallen angel. I guarantee you no one else down here in hell is going to be as patient and kind as I am. Welcome to your new forever home.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, not that you’d be able to utter anything remotely intelligible around your screams and moans and the tendrils fucking your mouth. And as he makes his way to another meeting with Satan, he proudly flaunts his pitch black wings, a thoughtful smile on his face as he thinks of all the plans he has for you.

[dcviated]

Perhaps what aggravated Gurin the most was that it couldn't be some sort of magic at play. No, he'd notice that. Or at least gotten some whiff or feeling of it. Everything that happened around Blythe was, instead, some other manner of conflagration. A burning sensation that was horrifying yet comforting all the same.

He was of a mind to burn, or freeze, or melt. Washing himself in the bathroom felt like the most proper yet awful damn place to be. The rush of sound turns some of those internal arguments into a gentler din of sound. For all the good that did. Touches to his skin were all the more impactful than seeing her face, a revelation that was yet again rife with conflict.

Had Blythe scared him? Or was it just more of the usual. Him scaring himself. A number was ill placed on how many encounters he had prior. And now, without even laying a finger intimately on this human girl it felt as though he was in entirely different territory. The lights all darkened. And his wanderings fruitless for answers.

"Oy, Gurin... lets keep ourselves together here. Before we go and do something really really stupid. This is just... all this is just... so she ain't sad about her holiday and all. She's a servant to an arch demon and you know she doesn't get all that much freedom for it, right? Yeah... hooogh..."

Water is splashed onto his face before the clothes provided are adorned. Fuck. He hasn't even... considered where he was going to sleep. That bed in her room was big, but sharing it?? In Zeyrfial's manor?? That's CRAZY.

The closet is eyed. Something magical. Probably has some other property behind it making it work. He touches the handle and throws it open to give it a try, and immediately slams it closed. Bright skin now flushing ruby as he nearly chokes on his tongue.

IT WAS ALL SKIMPY OUTFITS AND LINGERIE!!! Ah, he really is fucked beyond all recognition isn't he. The only respite, hopefully, that Blythe hadn't seen what apparently had been plaguing his mind. Panting with exasperation as he stares emptily at the grains of the shut closet door.

Head thumps against it.

"Why me. Why this girl. Why here. Why today."

And yet he can't linger in hiding, he can smell that human concern and doting expression just around the corner. So he has to make himself present and hope there wasn't anything else damning... yeah right. As soon as he looks at her with the modest outfit he can feel the heat rise again. Maybe he oughta find somewhere to sit down.

He doesn't want to be in here, but at the same time he wasn't about to go out of the room into the halls again. Ukolai had long retired, probably having thought Gurin had done the same. As for what Zeyrfial was up to... nah. Lets not think about it. Blythe said she had free reign so hopefully just trust in that.

"You're one hell of a brave human, you know that? First time I met you I was convinced you'd be a timid little thing. Here you are dragging me into your room. Wearing that... touching my back. Just how bold are you, Blythe?" His chest flutters. He hadn't intended to be quite so forward himself.

[darling-i-read-it]

May Queen

Pelle x reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: being indoctored into a cult, murder, suicide, basically the plot of midsommar

Author’s Note: This can be seen as a sequel to ‘Hug’ or it can be read on it’s own!

yeah i was a little excited that you guys wanted this one lol I don’t know if you can tell. I’ve seen this movie enough, it was about time I did something within the events of the film. I also referred to the script so some of the lines will be familiar! I hope you all enjoy!

Requested: by anon, omg your pelle fic wow; would you consider doing a sequel to it that either takes place during the events of the film or just before they arrive at Pelle's commune?

Requested: by anon, I would LOVEEE to see a sequel with pelle cause that was a pretty good fix and I think he deserves a bit more attention, I personally would like to see something happen during the events of the movie just because I think it would be interesting to see but that's just me

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“You think that Pelle asked you to go just because I’m going?” Dani asked, messing with her fingers. You were standing beside your bed, packing your suitcase slowly. Dani had already packed; she didn’t like to be unprepared.

“I don’t know...maybe he thought you would enjoy yourself more.”

“You’re acting like I’m the one who’s been dating him for these couple of months,” she told you. She was sitting on the bed, looking up at you. You nodded a bit, putting another pile of clothes inside.

“I know. I guess I’m just nervous. Meeting his whole group, going to where he grew up. I mean. I really like him. What if I fuck it up?” She shook her head and reached over to grab your arm. You looked her in the eyes.

“He really likes you. I can’t remember the last time Christian looked at me the way that Pelle looks at you.” Her eyes were honest. It made you feel bad. You should have gotten her to break up with Christian when you got the chance. But it was too late now; you were all going to Sweden.

“I suppose you’re right. Per usual.” She smiled weakly.

“Finish packing.”

=======

Pelle almost wanted to tell you about the whole thing. When he was on the plane, it crossed his mind to let you in on the whole scheme of things. The May Queen, the festival, all of it.

But he bit his tongue. That was tradition.

You arrived in Sweden well and took the trek up to where the first stop was. It was beautiful. Truly, it was stunning.

Pelle held your hand the whole way until you arrived at the first spot. There were people around the grassy hills, scattered around. Pelle got out of the car.

“These are other people from America that my friends have brought!” he exclaimed. He gestured to the many people around. You looked around, gazing at the nice afternoon. He grabbed your arm and started to drag you along.

“Hey, don’t rip it off!” you joked and he eased up.

“Sorry, I’m quite excited!” You smiled sweetly at his happiness.

“Me too!” He approached some people and started to introduce them when a man behind you started to yell. You turned around quickly, surprised at the loud noise. Pelle turned around too and his smile only grew.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said and then ran over to the approaching man. They embraced each other, hugging tightly.

“Everyone, this is my brother Ingemar. Ingemar this is Christian, Dani, Mark, Josh and my girlfriend, Y/N,” Pelle said. Ingemar followed where Pelle pointed, shaking hands with everyone. He paid special attention to you, his smile getting wider. You could tell that he and Pelle were related.

“Nice to meet you all. This is Simon and Connie from London,” he said, gesturing to the others behind him. “Simon and Connie this is Pelle and...all the names I just remembered two seconds ago,” Ingemar said laughing. Simon and Connie said hello. “Perfect timing by the way.”

Ingemar pulled out a bag of mushrooms from his pocket. Your eyes went wide.

“We just took these five minutes ago. Haven’t even started feeling the effects yet,” he explained.

“Oh shit!” Mark said, happily.

“Do you all want to take it now or should we get settled in?” Pelle asked.

“Fuck it, let’s take it now!” Mark said. You weren’t too sure about that. You trusted Pelle and everyone of course but in the new environment...it rubbed you the wrong way. Thankfully, Dani turned to speak to Christian about it.

“I think I want to get settled in first.” Christian was about to speak but you cut him off.

“Me too. You guys go and have fun, we’ll keep each other company,” you said. Pelle turned to you.

“Are you sure? I assure you it’s safe,” he said in a soft voice. You smiled kindly and put a gentle hand on his arm.

“I know! I just wanna get settled. Dani and I can handle ourselves, I promise.” He gave you a longer look, just to check that you were alright and then nodded. You turned back to Dani who grabbed your arm desperately.

“Thank you,” she whispered. You nodded.

“No thank you.”

=====

It wasn’t until the next day, Dani’s birthday, that you were able to get on further. You and Dani played some card games that you had brought with you while you waited for the effects to wear off for everyone else.

Christian came over to sleep beside Dani, still high. Pelle came over to you and braided your hair and then unbraided your hair, making very long sentences that didn’t make sense to whisper in your ear.

But when you arrived at the commune it was bright and sunny. Pelle rushed around, hugging people and introducing you and the group to everyone. You were able to get some blankets to sit on the grass, while everyone got their things together.

There was a group of girls dancing around in circles, wearing all white.

“You should go join,” Pelle suggested, gesturing to you and Dani. She shook her head a bit.

“Oh no, I’m too scared,” Dani said sheepishly. You nodded in agreement.

“Maybe another time.” Christian stood up.

“Hey can I join…” he started turning to Pelle.

“You’re American. Just jam yourself in,” he said. Christian nodded and walked away. “I think I’ll join him,” Simon said and was quickly followed by the rest of the group except you, Pelle and Dani. There was a moment of silence as you watched them go.

“Hey, just real quick,” Pelle said, digging for something in his pocket. He took out two pieces of paper and handed them to you and Dani. You both opened them to reveal gorgeously drawn pictures of yourselves wearing flower crowns. “For you Dani, think of it as a birthday present. For you Y/N, I imagine it’s a thank you present.”

“Oh Pelle,” Dani said. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

“Thank you for what?” you asked, brushing your finger over it. He smiled and shrugged.

“Just a thank you.”

“Well thank you for it,” you said. “I got Dani a new sweater. Christian forgot.” Pelle raised his eyebrow and you shared a look.

“I forgot to tell him...it’s my fault,” Dani explained. You shook your head.

“I tend to disagree,” you muttered. You folded the picture back up and put it in your pocket. You put your head on Pelle’s shoulders “But I think Christian is rude.”

“Perhaps you are too judgemental,” Pelle mused. “But I tend to agree with you regardless.” You and Dani laughed a bit. “We should probably go and catch up with them in case they get lost.”

=====

You got settled in in one of the large buildings, plenty of beds against the walls. Pelle was on the bed to your right while Dani slept on the one to your left.

“All right, beauty rest! Tomorrow’s a big day!” Pelle announced. You had one of the books you had brought open on your lap but you looked up at him.

“What’s tomorrow?” you asked.

“First of the big cerinomines,” he said mysteriously.

“So you’re just going to be weird and cryptic?” Josh asked, laughing a bit. Pelle pauses and then took Josh's notebook, writing something inside. You made an attempt to look but it was not a word that you recognized.

“What’s that?” Christian questioned. Pelle shrugged and laid down in his bed. You faced him, on the bed beside him.

“What is it?” you whispered to him. He gave you a teasing smile.

“It’s hard to explain.”

“I will come over there and tickle it out of you,” you threatened. He chuckled and turned around so he wasn’t facing you. But he put his arm back behind him, reaching across the space between your two beds.

You grabbed it and rubbed his knuckles anxiously.

=====

There was a very odd breakfast the next day but you tried not to judge. You wanted to really appreciate Pelle’s culture and understand it. He had admired you for your understanding and he knew you would make an effort.

That’s why he chose to love you.

You were the obvious choice.

After that you walked out to a cliffside where most of the people were already out and lined up. You were curious to find complete silence. Everyone was silent as it happened and you were able to do nothing but watch as these two elderly people stood up on top of the cliff.

When the first person, a woman, jumped, you grabbed Pelle, putting your hand in front of your mouth. He grabbed you and wrapped his arms around you but it didn’t change the look of serenity on his face.

Simon was standing next to Ingemar yelling as the man approached the cliffside.

You had your face in Pelle’s arms. You were shaking.

“It is the way of life,” he whispered to you. Simon was still screaming. Another elder was talking to him and you could feel Pelle want to move toward them but he stayed beside you. “It is our way of recycling them and their gifts.”

You pulled away from him and shook your head a bit. You met Dani’s eyes. She wasn’t showing much emotion other than shock. You didn’t blame her.

“They’re dead,” you whispered. He nodded and put his hands on your upper arms.

“And it is an honor to have died that way.” You weren’t sure how to feel. You wanted to be understanding, to try and understand him and his ways. You would want that from him. But he should have prepared you more for that.

You walked over to Dani and walked beside her on the way back to the houses.

=====

“I’m leaving,” Dani said.

“I don’t blame you.” She was already packing a bag. You sat down on your bed, head in your hands. You took a deep breath and leaned back on the bed.

“Are you coming with me?” she asked. Her voice was shaking. She was clearly shaken up by all of this.

“No,” you muttered. “I’m not leaving Pelle yet.”

“Not even after that?” Her voice was quiet but it was urgent. You shook your head a bit.

“I just have to talk to him. He should have warned us more, of course but....it’s what he’s been raised to believe is normal. I don’t think I should think of it as a bad thing.”

“We just watched people die!” You stood up off the bed and put your hands on your upper arms, steading her.

“You can go home and I will not blame you. In the slightest. I just think I should stay longer,” you told her. She nodded solemnly. She took a deep breath in through her nostrils and nodded again.

=====

Before bed that night Pelle approached you. You were standing outside of the bed house, leaning against it to try and clear your thoughts. You almost completely ignored him but in the end you locked eyes with him as he approached.

“I’m sorry I didn’t give you adequate warning,” he said sympathetically. He grabbed your hand and held it. “I thought you would understand but I know now that it was wrong of me to assume.” You shook your head quickly.

“I understand it was just...a shock,” you muttered. He nodded and kissed your forehead softly.

“You are completely safe here. I want you to know that.” He looked you in the eyes when he said it. You believed him. You nodded back and gestured to the house.

“Let’s get some shut eye huh? And maybe warn me if we see another person...you know.” You made a slicing gesture across your neck. He laughed gently and nodded, placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you inside.

=====

Dani walked up to you, still distraught but less so. You were standing beside Pelle the next day as he kneeled in front of the ground picking some vegetables. You turned to her as she walked up, ready to handle whatever she was about to throw at you.

“Hey,” you said, taking the step away from Pelle and toward her.

“Hi. Did you see Simon left without Connie?” she asked. You raised an eyebrow and shook your head.

“Seriously? What a dick.” She clearly felt a little bit off put by it so you lowered your voice. “You think it’s weird?” Dani nodded a bit.

“I don’t know...it’s a little weird. They seemed so close.” You nodded. They did seem close.

“I don’t know...something to keep in mind I suppose.” She nodded quickly in agreement.

======

Dinner that night was simple pastries. You were pleased. The last food they had given you wasn’t your kind of taste. You sat between Pelle and Dani again.

“Have you seen Connie?” Dani asked you quietly. You shook your head.

“Excuse me but I know what happened,” a man sitting beside Mark said. “Her boyfriend called the landline from the train station. She begged us to drive her so we took her down to the station.” You nodded slowly, glancing at Pelle. He shrugged, seemingly in agreement.

“Why would Simon leave without her?” you asked quietly.

“I can see you doing that,” Dani muttered at Christian. You wanted to laugh so you turned to Pelle, sneaking a smile. He shrugged with a smile on his face also.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Christian asked.

“Nevermind.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Pelle said quietly, so only you could hear. You ate a bite of the pastry proudly.

“You’re damn right.”

======

One of the important books was stolen that night. They announced it at breakfast.

“Where is your friend Josh?” one of the elders asked, after breakfast. You, Christian, Dani and Pelle all stood in front of the two elders, caught like a deer in headlights.

“I know. We have no idea,” Christian said.

“He and your other friend disappear in the same day. You understand how that looks.”

“Yes obviously, but we swear to you we are not a part of this,” Christian said. Dani shuffled a bit.

“We did see Mark go off with one of the girls last night,” she said.

“Which girl?”

“Inga,” Pelle said.

“But Mark wouldn’t have done this. Josh, though, he came to bed with us, and when we woke up, he was gone. And if he did take that book, I just pray you understand we do not identify as friends of his, or collaborators, or anything. I certainly don't vouch for him and we'd be so embarrassed to be connected to this in any way,” Christian explained.

“I feel responsible,” Pelle said. The elders nodded a bit.

“Well you and Odd can go looking. Perhaps you can redeem them,” one of the elders said. You didn’t want Pelle to leave. You didn’t like it when you were separated here. You believed him when he said you were safe but...it was still a little odd. “You two will be going with the women for the day’s activity,” he said to you and Dani. “And Siv asks to see you in her house,” she said to Christian.

You glanced at Pelle as he left. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it, almost saying ‘do well!’.

=====

You and Dani got dressed in white shirts with flower crowns. It made you a tad bit nervous but at least you had her.

She gestured to the drink they were handing out. Cups had been given to both of you to drink it.

“Can I ask what’s in this?” Dani asked one of the girls.

“It’s...tea for the dancing competition.” You raised an eyebrow but took a glass anyway. Dani looked back at you and you shrugged.

“I’ll beat you,” you muttered.

“Try me.”

You both took drinks of the tea.

Your head became fuzzy the second it hit your throat. You hadn’t taken those drugs before hand and you almost didn’t want to do it now but it was already done. Your feet were moving along with the girls, tossing bodies left and right it felt like.

You lost sight of Dani very quickly.

You were running and jumping and laughing until the elder lady yelled to stop then you kept dancing.

Dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing.

Dancing.

It seemed to go on forever. Your mind was hazed, your head hurt, your glances were so quick they gave you whiplash. You were smiling brightly when they announced they were down to the final eight. You finally saw Dani again, in the eight with you.

All of the fallen dancers had sat off on the side. You saw Christian, looking hilariously out of place. And Pelle.

Your heart swelled with love for Pelle. You could barely know anything else for a moment as you stared at him.

You couldn’t see it but in that moment, Dani believed she learned how much she hated Christian.

Then more dancing.

People were speaking and then it was just you and Dani, holding hands, dancing around in a circle, tired and out of breath. She stared at you and a smile went over her face as she held your hand.

And then she tripped. You stopped dancing and someone ran up to you, putting their hands on your shoulder.

“It’s over?” you asked.

“You are our May Queen!” they yelled. You were still hazzed. Each face looked the same. The people running up to you were strangers but you felt nothing but warmth for them. They placed a different flower crown atop your head.

Pelle ran up to you smiling brightly.

“Wow! May Queen, my love!” he said, giving you a strong kiss, both his hands resting on your cheeks. You were smiling brightly and then he was gone. You didn’t want him to go.

They carried you on a platform to a dinner table where you sat at the head, Dani beside you and Pelle on the other side as usual.

One of the elders stood at the end of the dinner.

“Now it is traditional for the May Queen to bless our crops and livestock. And after the luck you just inherited from that salt herring, we should all be doubly encouraged.” You looked around nervously.

“Can Pelle come with me?”

“No. The Queen must ride alone.”

You were starting to come to your own and realize how crazy this all was. How did you get here? How would you get out of here? You found yourself hoping you didn’t get out of here though. This felt like home. Some form of home. As you walked to the carriage you saw a glimpse of the pride on Pelle’s face.

It made you immensely happy.

======

They made you do a ritual in Swedish and you did your best with the limited knowledge of the language you knew. You went to Siv’s house, where she blessed you. You wondered where Dani was. You hoped she was alright. You should have let her become the May Queen. You should have let her win, just so you knew she was alright.

The women left you alone for only a moment where they ushered Pelle into the house with all of the beds where you were. He was still smiling that bright smile as he rushed up to you, hugging you tightly to him.

“You have no idea the amount of honor and pride you have brought to me. I am so very proud of you,” he said, cupping your cheeks. You tried not to get too flustered with your smile in return.

“So I get my picture up on that wall?” you questioned. He nodded pleasantly.

“Yes you will!” He kissed you passionately and you let him, allowing him to dip you a bit. “And you will be allowed to stay here, with the family.”

You didn’t even react. You didn’t feel the need to.

“With you?”

“Yes of course. You will be mine and I will be yours.”

You nodded happily.

“Where is Dani?” you asked.

“She is alright, she’s with the other women preparing. She is also going to stay.” You wanted to laugh of joy with that. “It is time for the final of the ceremonies,” he told you. “You will finally be able to give Christian what you think he deserves, if you wish it.”

He placed an even larger flower crown atop your head.

“And a dress as well, to fit a Queen.”

He gestured to the large flower dress in the room you hadn’t even noticed. He kissed you once more.

“It is time for the final ceremony. I’ll help you put on the dress. Are you ready?” he asked. He looked at you patiently. You nodded.

“Yes, I am.”

[akatabitch]

Spellbound I

Genre:smut 18+ (minors, ageless & empty blogs dni)

warnings: voyeurism, tribbing, cunniligus, foursome

themes: occult, supernatural

wc:1886 (part I)

The only thing louder than the giggles and excited chatter from the girls, was the blunt that Aiyanna was carefully rolling.

"This book old as fuck, Jola. Where the fuck you even get it from?" Kirah asked, before she gently blew dust off the leather-bound book in question. This action sent Iesha — seated directly across from her— into a coughing frenzy.

"Gahtdamn, Kirah! I should slap you fa doing that goofy shit." Iesha mushed her gently in the head, causing Kirah to kiss her teeth.

"Guh, I swear it was fate! I literally got that bih at an estate sale, yesterday." Jola shouted from the kitchen, before rejoining her roommates in the living room with a bottle of Port Taylor in tow.

"Girl, I know you fucking lying." Kirah scrunched her face up at the bottle in Jola's hand. "Why the fuck you bought that cheap ass shit?"

"Because," Jola snapped with a roll of the eyes. "Yo cheap ass, ain't wanna put in on shit."

"Hmmp."

"Hmmp my ass! Iesha smack her again."

"Aight y'all, chill. Y'all really needing right now." Aiyanna took a pull of the tightly wrapped blunt, trying not to be irritated by the dramatics of her friend group.

Aiyanna was the peacemaker of the bunch. The only one of the four who wasn't a hothead. At her size, she couldn't really afford to be. Not only was she 5 foot even, she was tiny, without a lick of muscle or thick anywhere on her body.

"Anyway," Jola came over to join her, reaching for the blunt. Her thick ass and hips visibly swayed side to side. At 5'9, Jola towered over everyone. Her chestnut skin complimented her olive green negligee perfectly and the light beat on her face accentuated her cat eyes, thick lips, and short-bridged nose.

"Y'all gone want something to get you fucked up once you read what all this spell entails."

Aiyanna shook her head, how she'd been talked into her roommates goofy plans she would never know.

Jola, Iesha, and surprisingly even Kirah, had excitedly shared their plan to summon a succubus for Halloween’s Eve and to capture it all on camera. Bored of the traditional Homecoming parties and festivities, they wanted to spend their last year of university doing something truly memorable.

Considering that Jola and Iesha would often gush for hours about their various occult interests, Aiyanna was not surprised that they would suggest the idea. However, Kirah's superstitious nature, contradicted her zeal about summoning a potentially unpredictable spirit.

Yet somehow all of the girls, including Aiyanna, had submitted to Jola’s requests. And were currently seated on a pallet of satin sheets and pillows, dressed in their most seductive wear, in front of a tripod.

Even Aiyanna, who typically didn't put much thought in the clothes she wore, was fitted in a black corset, a super short black skirt, and a black thong.

Although, she was still scared. She didn't even fuck with other people, let alone spirits. That combined with the years of indoctrination and fear-mongering from her family, had kept her from participating in the Charlie Charlie, Bloody Mary, & other spooky challenges of her peers.

Seeing as her roommates would be performing the seance in her home, she figured it didn't matter if she was in attendance when they did it or not. Eventually she'd have to come home and deal with it.

"Why you say we gonna want to get fucked up first?" Kirah, scrunched her face up.

The old grimoire Jola tracked down spread between the four of them —the blunt rotated counter-clockwise and a glass of wine in each one's hand, they carefully read over the instructions.

"So we basically have to masturbate together and say these words when we feel ourselves orgasming?" Iesha couldn't contain her grin, their idea was getting better and better by the minute.

"Yup, as soon as the last person involved says the phrase, it'll come." Jola squealed, as the anticipation in her body began to rise.

"Who's first?" Iesha said, her smirk growing on her dimpled cheeks.

"I don't think we should take turns. We should all fuck ourselves at the same time to speed it along." Kirah, crossed her arms. The impatience on her face was evident.

"Sheitttt, who give a fuck if the bitch comes or not. I say we rock out."

"Whatchu mean?" Kirah's impatience quickly dissolved into confusion.

"I say we fuck each other." Iesha shrugged, the smirk on her face had never wavered. When she'd said she wanted to have a good time, she truly meant she wanted to have a good time.

Jola paused to consider it, maybe it was the liquor. Or maybe it was her curiosity getting the best of her. "True, it's our last year, and we said we wanna go out with a bang. If this spell doesn't produce anything, we could get a really good fuck outta it."

"Multiple good fucks" Iesha giggled. "I'm gonna come a few times before I say any spell."

"What do you think Aiyanna?" Kirah was looking for back up, but Aiyanna was curious to know what it would be like to taste Jola, so she agreed. She hadn't fucked anyone since her ex-girlfriend in freshman year and the way Jola carried herself had always intrigued her. Even now.

"Isn't the whole point to create an energy that attracts it. We should probably actually really enjoy it." Aiyanna said.

"Exactly!" Iesha clapped her hands together.

"If you don't wanna do it though Kirah, you shouldn't." Iesha was sincere. Her excitement would never cause her to encourage someone to do something they didn't want to.

Kirah looked off to the side thoughtfully for a moment. "Lemme just watch first and we'll go from there."

"Matter fact, let's just finish our drinks first and play some music." Jola jumped up to connect her phone to the living room television.

"Lord, we mixing all kinds of spirits huh." Aiyanna quipped, pulling another long drag from the blunt.

"I'll press play on the camera." Iesha stood up to angle the camera properly and begin recording.

Jola peeped that Aiyanna was quiet when it came to everything but music. She purposely put on a sensual song by Popcaan, taking the blunt from the girl so she could wine and twirl her ass without accidentally burning herself.

Little did she know, Aiyanna also had every intention to get Jola out of character as well. Now that the opportunity presented itself she was definitely going to seduce Jola. Fuck that spell.

Aiyanna put both hands above her head, slowly rolling her ass to the bassline. Jola got behind her, blunt tucked between her lips, as the other girls lazily watched. She gripped Aiyanna's waist, slowly grinding herself into Aiyanna's ass in time to the beat. As the heat between them increased they found themselves moaning.

Aiyanna turned into her. At first, grinding their fronts into each other. Then rubbing Jola's pussy up and down over her exposed leg. The friction of Aiyanna’s soft skin and Jola's sex scantily dressed in the negligee, had her long nails digging in Aiyanna's back.

Aiyanna felt arousal shoot through her from the pain. Her small hand firmly gripped Jola's neck, pushing her down, down, down backwards into the pallet.

The sight of Jola laid before her made her nervous. She kissed her hard on the mouth, hoping to quiet the anxious thoughts running through her head. Then, their lips suckled the other’s softly, as if each was fragile.

After only a few minutes Jola broke the kiss, pushing  Aiyanna's head down towards her voluptuous frame. "Can you eat me out, please?"

"I thought you would never ask." Aiyanna quickly trailed kisses down her body. She bit Jola’s nipples hard when she got to them, pulling her thick hair when she squirmed. She alternated sucking them into her damp mouth and twirling her long tongue around them. When she failed to put them both in her mouth simultaneously, she decided to move down to Jola’s pussy.

She kissed the vulva first. Inhaling deeply and melting at the smell of Jola's pussy. Next, Aiyanna spread her friend’s labia with her left hand. Carefully massaging it and running her fingers across it like it was the finest velvet.

"Touch me just like that." Jola couldn't believe how gentle Aiyanna's touches felt.

She was caught off guard the moment Aiyanna's mouth met her pussy lips. And only the sound of her slurping pussy loudly and Jola's encouragements filled the space.

"Hmm, this pussy so good." Aiyanna could literally feel her eyes roll in the back of her head, as her tongue memorized Jola's plush folds and crevices.

If either of them was paying attention to anything else, they would see Iesha touching herself quietly. She bit down on her lip at the sight of Aiyanna's ass in the air. And her thong, suddenly visible under her flipped up skirt, tightly snug in between her ass cheeks as she feasted on Jola's pussy before them.

Kirah was in shock. Literally, her mouth was agape. Having never seen Aiyanna in this state, she marveled at how passionately and skillfully she ate Jola's pussy. And how her own pussy glistened from slick in the lighting. It looked like a diamond mine or a treasure chest. Like something shiny and fruitful laid between her thighs.

Her pussy was dripping, darkening the sheets beneath her so she pushed Jola's legs further apart. Slowly mounting her. Aiyanna arched her ass up, gently rubbing their pussy lips together. She let out a sharp breath as their soft nubs touched. Jola was getting increasingly wetter, and her wetness combined with the memory of the taste, smell, and feel of Jola’s pussy merely inspired Aiyana's own. The sound of their juicy, pussies rubbing against each other filled the air.

"Fuck, I should've fucked you a long time ago" Jola said. She couldn't figure out what to do with her hands. They traveled insatiably, spreading Aiyanna's ass cheeks, gripping them, smacking them. And pulling on her tight little nipples.

Aiyanna caressed Jola's breasts sensually as they fucked and she leaned forward to kiss her, hellbent on making her body feel as good as possible. She licked on Jola’s lips, before sucking them into her own mouth. Then, she vulgarly stuck her tongue in Jola's mouth, searching for her tongue and sucking it like she’d lost all her decorum in it.

For a minute, with Aiyanna fucking her mouth, Jola considered the fact that she might be gay. When men kissed her like that she got annoyed and grossed out. But between the music, the liquor, and Aiyanna's soft pussy pressed against hers, she felt like she was in paradise. Her tongue down her throat, felt and tasted so fucking good.

Jola stopped thinking at all when Aiyanna once again gently spread her pussy lips apart with her soft hands, allowing their clits to touch directly.

"Homygawd, why does this shit feel so motherfucking good? You better not stop until I cum, bitch."

Aiyanna gripped her neck again. "Tell me you ain't never been fucked like this."

Jola was telling the truth when she agreed, "Never, nobody ever fuck me like this."

Aiyanna started bouncing on her pussy to reward her for complying. Only giving Jola a few seconds to recover, before she brought her pussy down against Jola's once more.

Iesha could no longer control her moans as the sounds of their asses clapping together, combined with the sight of Aiyanna's little cheeks twerking up & down onto Jola's pussy, took her near the edge.

Kirah startled, turning to see her friends with her hand stuffed deep in her own pussy. The wetness pooled in her underwear. Maybe it hadn't been a bad idea to have some fun…

[nightowlfandom]

Rich! Bad Boy!Min Yoongi- Try Me

Just wanna say if you see your name used here, I don’t have beef with you okay? I had a random name generator in another tab and just used the first name I saw.

Once again someone doesn’t want me to be great so....this might be the only post today because I....dunno I can’t post when I’m not in a good mood and its been real shitty.

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!!

X RATED PROMPT LIST| NON X RATED PROMPT LIST

RUN IN HERE AND COME GET Y’ALL JUICE

Leggo!

...

You were practically glued to his side. His arm was tightly wrapped around your waist as he led you across the room. You had perched your designer sunglasses on top of your head to get a clearer look at your surroundings. Why were you wearing sunglasses at night? Because you could, of course.

Your wore a backless floor length gown in one of his favorite colors. He had insisted you wear your fur coat, but you convinced him to let you leave it in the car. You were on full display, not only for him but for anyone else who thought that they had bought the most gorgeous date for the night. That title was forever and always reserved for Min Yoongi’s girl and tonight only proved it more and more. 

He walked with his held held high as if everyone around him was beneath him. His attired screamed ‘try me, bitch’ From his black suit and tie to crisp white dress shirt and shoes that were worth more than someone’s rent for five months. His hair was slicked back and while he didn’t bother to raise his own pair of shades, everyone could see the glare very evident on his face.

You two were the epitome of a power couple, in the most literal sense and everyone respected that.

“Mr. Min! Welcome!” a nervous and frantic looking man rushed up to you. “This must be your beautiful companion for the night.” he bowed repeatedly. So many times that you lost count. He held his hand out for you to take, but you were left to stare awkwardly. You had no idea what to do in that moment. After a second or two you held your hand out, which he shook a bit too aggressively.

Yoongi calmly used his free hand to raise his sunglasses up. “You gettin’ paid to rip my girl’s arm out its socket?”

“Oh! my apologies Mr. Min!” he instantly let your hand go. “I wasn’t aware.”

“You never are.” he scoffed, allowing his shades sit on the top of his head. “Is our table ready or did they send you here to waste our time?”

“You’re fashionably early! Your comrades haven’t arrived yet.” the host stammered. “Follow me!” he practically disappeared through the sea of people. 

“What a tool.” you spoke for the first time since you left the car. “I’ve never seen a bigger kiss-ass in my life.”

“Hm, trust me I’ve met worse. He’s just a dick-rider for the men who really own this place.” He leaned down and spoke into your ear. “Those guys will literally shit on someone else’s table if I tell them to.”

“How riveting.” you rolled your eyes playfully as he led you through the crowd. It was easy for people to get out of your way. One look from your boyfriend and they were hugged the nearest wall or throwing themselves against the various tables set up all over the place. “Remind me again why we’re here?”

“Don’t make that face.” He smirked. “I told you, official business.”

“And we couldn’t do that somewhere less...sleazy?” you scoffed at the old man with five different women on his arm. “Yoongi-”

“It’s only for a few hours.” he assured. “Then after that, we can do whatever you want, okay?”

“You said that last time.” you hid the pout forming on your face.

“You have my word.”

“Or so you say.” you slipped out of his grip. “Until you have more trash take out.” you shook your head as you walked ahead. Yoongi watched you from behind as you walked ahead. Of course you didn’t need him by your side to be considered intimidating. He bit his lip at the idea of ripping that dress off your body when you got back to the hotel. Shit, he might not even manage to keep his hands to himself in the car.

Yoongi joined you at the table. “ You feel like Soju tonight?”

“Depends on if you want me to start fighting or not.” you raised an eyebrow at Yoongi.

“Hm, on second thought how about imported beer.”

“This isn’t date night at your place, dear.” you replied jokingly.

“Hm, you’re right. It’s been a while since we’ve splurged. We can do wine tonight!” he chuckled in reply as you both sat down. Just as you both got settled, you were met by a small crowd. Yoongi’s friends, of course. 

“Oi! Watch how you handle my fucking jacket! It’s worth more than your life.” Namjoon snapped at that host.

“My apologies sir!”

“Yoongi, Y/N. Good to see you.” Seokjin shook Yoongi’s hand firmly. “Sorry we’re late.”

“We just arrived ourselves.” you replied, relaxing as Yoongi wrapped his arm around your waist again. “Yoongi insisted.”

“Of course he did.” Jungkook sat down. “I saw the other women glaring at you.” he laughed. “You sure know how to make an entrance.” he raised your hand to his lips for a short kiss to your knuckles.

“Of course she does. She’s the best looking woman here.” he huffed as if it was obvious. The host quietly bought the selection for the night.

“Wine for the lady, the usual for the rest of us.” Yoongi spoke for the table.

“Yes sir!”

Before anyone else could speak, a woman in a red dress and white fur coat strode up. “Yoongi? Is that you?”

“Meredith....fancy seeing you here.” Yoongi looked less than thrilled.

“Very!” she seemed a little too happy to see him. It was funny because you had never seen nor heard of this woman in your life. “So...I tried to call you.”

She was completely oblivious of you sitting right there and you didn’t like it.

“What are you doing here?” Seokjin annoyedly spoke up as his drink was poured. “If you couldn’t tell, we’re all trying to enjoy ourselves.”

“I just wanted to catch up with an old friend!” she put her hands up in defense. Her eyes suddenly landed on you. “Whose this?” she fixed her face in disgust

“Y/N L/N, who the fuck are you?” you raised an eyebrow. Your posture straightened up as she glared at you. You threw your sunglasses on the table, crossing your arms as you perked up.

“Are you Yoongi’s pet or something?” she put a hand on her hip. “ Guess they’ll let anyone in!”

“Pet? Oh Honey...Even if that were true it would still mean I’m sitting here and your standing there looking stupid....”

“Oh yeah. He’s probably waiting for the perfect moment to get rid of you!”

You held up a single hand to up Yoongi to signify that you didn’t want him to speak. He looked livid, however you didn’t see the point in him wasting his time or energy on this woman. You slowly stood up. The host held your glass of wine with shaky hands, unsure of what to do.

“Thank you.” you grabbed the glass from him. “Run along now.”

“Yes mam!” the scared host scurried off, obviously not wanting any confrontation. 

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Yoongi asked, watching you with weary eyes. You weren’t confrontational so this was a huge surprise.

“Meredith. That is your name, right?” you smiled sweetly. You took a sip from your glass. “Hm...What a darling coat! I bet it goes with anything.”

“Of course it does! It pairs best with red. I bought it in Paris...” she put a hand on her hip as if she was a model. “As you can see.”

“Too bad beautiful gowns and expensive fur doesn’t make the wearer any less cheap than the next bitch.” you instantly shut down the false sense of security you built for the disrespectful woman. 

“EXCUSE ME?!?”

“Not done yet....” you cleared your throat before speaking again. “ Whore, Pet, Wife ,Girlfriend, whatever you want to call me, go ahead but best believe my place in Yoongi’s life will always hold rank over you, my dear. You weren’t even important enough for him to tell me about you and we’ve been together for four years going on five as of two months from now.” You put your free hand on your hip. “That’s number one.” you laughed gleefully.

“Damn Yoongi, your girl has guts.” Namjoon whispered.

“That’s my babe.” Yoongi sat back and watched you drag Meredith for filth.

“Number Two! Before you try to feed me shit and call it sugar, make sure you take off the tags on your clothes.” You pointed to the obvious department store tag. “Clearance...nice. I also know fake diamonds when I see them, don’t play yourself.”

Nothing was wrong with fake gems, or clearance items...but pretending you were better than everyone else while lying...that wasn’t gonna go down.

The girl had went completely quiet now.

“Three. Last but not least. Get over this whole convoluted ‘I’m better than you’ ideals you follow because the same people you turn your nose up at are the same people who you rely on on a day to day basis. Shiny hair, expensive clothes, and a posse of fake friends who tell you everything you want to hear does not guarantee happiness. Insulting me because it gives you short lived joy does not guarantee happiness. Pretending you actually have any sense of class when it’s obvious you faked your way to the top of social stardom does not guarantee happiness.” you put your wine glass on the table. “So before I proceed to tell you to go fuck yourself and to stay away from me and my BOYFRIEND...any questions?”

Not even five seconds passed and this woman walked off without another word. You didn’t feel bad, not by a long shot. Respect is something that’s earned any ANYONE who didn’t understand that could get a piece of you.

You sat back down next to Yoongi, grabbing your wine again. “Gentlemen, forgive me for that outburst.”

“Damn babe.” Yoongi wrapped his arm around you again. “That was hot.”

“Good because I’m highly fucking livid right now.” you calmly took a sip of your wine. “Who was that woman?” you turned to glare at Yoongi.

“She was an actress who was paid to portray my wife for a business thing I was forced to do.” he shook his head. “Y/N I promise she means nothing to me. It was before we even met.”

“Good. Let another girl talk crazy to me, I’ll kill you both.” you said with a straight face. “Her for thinking she can talk to me any way she wants, and you for keeping things from me. I will cut you deep, sir.”

“Damn I love you.” he bit his lip. He turned your head towards himself to give you a deep kiss. 

...

As he had promised, he could barely keep his hands off you in the car. The minute the doors had shut, Yoongi had the hem of your dress bunched up in his fist. His lips feverishly laid open mouth kisses along your exposed neck. 

“Yoongi, we shouldn’t do this here.” you whimpered, even though your actions said the completely opposite.

“Why? No one is gonna stop me. They damn sure won’t say shit about it.” Yoongi stopped for a split second to turn a glare to the limo driver, who was trying very hard not to look in the rear view mirror. “PUT THE FUCKING DIVIDER UP.” he barked.

“Yes sir!!”

Yoongi pushed you down onto the seats, causing you to let out a laugh. The divider was put up and you could hear the sound of fabric ripping.

He had tore a rip up your dress.

“Goodbye $3,000 dress.” you huffed.

“More where that came from.” he laughed, which was quickly replaced with a sadistic smile. “Spread your legs, baby.” he pouted. “Daddy wants to finger you”

“In the car-"

 “When we get back to the hotel, I want you naked on that bed.” he growled. “If not, I’ll fucking rip whatever you have left off.”

... (The Hotel)

He couldn’t even keep his hands to himself in the elevator, any part of you he could get his hands on, he touched. By the time you two had gotten back to the room, you were thrown on the bed. Your dress had a huge tear up the leg and the straps were holding up either. Yoongi had discarded every article of clothing except his pants which were hanging low on his hips at this point.

“How do you want me?” he flicked his tongue against his bottom lip, looking you up and down. “I’ll do whatever you want, babe.” He watched as your shy wall was quickly put up and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Baby doesn’t know?”

“Nuh uh.” you hid behind your hands with a shy smile.

“Hm...my hands?”

“hm....nuh uh.” you shook your head again.

“Hm...my mouth then?” he bit his lips, standing right in front of you. “Where was that fire, honey? Come on.” he grabbed your hands. “Want me to eat that pretty pussy, baby?” He gathered the rest of your dress in his fist. “Come here.”

He began kissing up your bare thighs. You shook your legs, biting your lip. You felt him pull your panties down.

“You were so brave for me, sexy girl. Where’s that fighting spirit? Do you want me to eat this sweet little- hmm.” he dragged his tongue up your slit, laying opened mouthed kisses along your pussy. “You’re brave for the outside world but you still need daddy to take care of you, huh?”

“Mhm!” you nodded desperately.

“Baby you taste so fucking good.” he laughed, lashing his tongue against your hot flesh. “You’re moving so much.” he cackled. “Hmm” he dug his nails into your thighs. “You like it when I eat this pussy?” 

“This is mine.” he mumbled against your heat. “This is all mine. Don’t think I’m done with you yet...”