#they had no reason to wait for her in the dark

[starrvsn]

꒰ ⌕ ꒱ recommended bucky barnes fics! ✧ ੭ pls support these writers !

OVER THE INTERCOM ⠆bucky revival because of thunderbolts... my og, i will never forget him.

﹙legend!﹚ ✷ includes smut! must 18+ to read! ✱ — thunderbolts (since a newly realeased movie, i want to prevent spoilers from people who haven't seen it yet! but beware of spoilers) 𝜗𝜚 — my personal fav! — indented text is other recommended fics by the same author!

˚⋆𐙚｡ list is regularly updated when i find new fics! & if links aren’t working pls lmk! ⋆𖦹.✧˚

 ── .✦ also! i may be recommending certain fics but please also check out their blogs! so many of these authors have other amazing pieces just waiting to be read!

✱ back to you written by @helaintoloki / synopsis: Yelena’s interest in y/n forces Bucky to confront his feelings for her as the Thunderbolts take refuge in her home

✱ jackass written by @aquaticmercy / synopsis: Everyone is horrified that Bucky is flirting with a married woman, but then they realize there's a reason why. 

⤷ also! recommending their bucky fics in their masterlist because they are absolutely amazing, swear i binge read all their fics in one night… seriously.

weakness written by @marvelstoriesepic / synopsis: You use Bucky’s only weakness to your advantage until it bites you in the ass.

⤷ ✷ in too deep / synopsis: After Bucky calls, and you come running, you end up locked in his bathroom, trying to get rid of the evidence that something hasn’t gone well this time + part two ✷ different, this time / synopsis: After the hospital visit and the doctor’s diagnosis, Bucky is plagued with guilt. He won’t touch you again until he is absolutely sure that you’re okay. Once you manage to reassure him, you both discover what it truly means to make love, rather than just fucking with suppressed feelings. And it’s overwhelming in the best way.

yours whether you know it or not written by @magical-reid / synopsis: You’ve been running missions with Sam and Bucky for a while now, and everything was fine—until John Walker started showing up and taking an interest in you. Bucky isn’t having it. Not because he’s jealous. Definitely not because he’s jealous. He just doesn’t trust Walker. Right?

𝜗𝜚 the solider and his mission written by @magical-reid / synopsis: When a trigger sends Bucky back into the grip of the Winter Soldier, he shadows you with an unyielding protectiveness that leaves the team on edge, though he doesn't harm anyone. After days of tension and careful steps, Bucky finally breaks through the icy barrier, returning to himself in a quiet, tender moment, finding solace in your presence.

✷ queens throne written by @little-miss-dilf-lover / synopsis: you have been feeling insecure and been nitpicking yourself apart. bucky notices and shows you how much he loves your body by asking you to sit on his face

✷ you take the dark and carve me out a home written by @sinner-as-saint / synopsis: Unwinding after a tough mission is not exactly easy. Especially not when you’re part of a group that is always, constantly under scrutiny. Which is why you were always extra hard on yourself whenever you felt like you made a mistake or let the team down in any way. Bucky was aware of this, he was aware of everything regarding you, and usually he gave you your space and within a day or two you’d get back to normal. But this time was different, he noticed. It had been a couple of days since your last mission and you were still in that weird, distant headspace. And Bucky needed you back, the whole team needed you back, but him more because… well, because he cared about you a lot more than he let on. 

𝜗𝜚 ✷ this is (not) fine written by @artficlly / synopsis: personal assistant rules: don’t crush on bucky barnes. definitely don’t misinterpret a flower purchase and spiral into silent heartbreak, and absolutely never ever get stuck alone with him in an elevator.

⤷ ✷ lessons in love making / synopsis: You and Bucky Barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pants—leaving you both stunned. (on-going series!) *not apart of the recommended fit but written by the same author!*

✷ the sunday regular written by @little-miss-dilf-lover / synopsis: you’re a waitress working at some shitty run-down diner in the middle of nowhere. and every sunday you see the same person at the same time walk through the doors. the pair of you forming a bond over time. though today, he doesn’t at his usual time and you begin to worry that you’ll have to wait another week to see him. the regular then finds out some information about you that he didn’t wish to know, and in turn, information you didn’t wish to share.

✷ makeout lessons with bucky written by @bcksgirl

drawing the line written by @fireinmoonshot / synopsis: Bucky Barnes has messed up big time ... he just doesn't know it until he sees you and realises he really should've checked his texts.

✷ breaking the ice written by @buckysouvenir / synopsis: when bucky doesn’t know what sex is like in the 2000s, you volunteer to try his fantasies.

off duty written by @lolab4t / synopsis: after a rare night off, you stumble back into avengers tower at 2 am.. tipsy, feet hurting, and definitely not expecting to run into bucky barnes on the couch.

⤷ ✷ part two of off duty / synopsis: days after the tipsy night on the couch, you're left wondering what it meant... especially with bucky acting infuriatingly normal. the tension leads to a steamy exchange between the two, where bucky seems to let go of his gentleman manners for a bit.

✱ ✷ overheard written by @alisonfics / synopsis: alexei persuades the thunderbolts team that they need to throw a costume party at the tower. your costume has a certain effect on a certain super soldier, but he’s too stubborn to admit it. you go to talk to him after the party and find him masturbating to the thought of you.

𝜗𝜚 smile, you're on camera! part one & ✷ two written by @whambamsami / synopsis: you accidentally find out what neighbor!bucky really does for work. and he's more than interested to show you how professional he can be.

✷ nine lives written by @theaquariusedit / synopsis: Bucky Barnes drives you insane—in every possible way. The bickering, the reckless plans, the way he smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. But when a mission goes sideways, leaving you both bloodied and too close for comfort, the tension between you ignites into something impossible to ignore. You can keep pretending. Keep fighting him. But Bucky isn’t one to back down—especially when he knows you don’t really want him to.

✷ it’s been calling me written by @godmadeaterribleerror / synopsis: You've had these… dreams. Strange, realistic, detailed dreams of the same man, almost your whole life. But they're just dreams. You've been so sure, for so long, that they're just dreams.

✷ you started it written by @lucy-literates / synopsis: When Bucky walks in on you wearing nothing but his shirt and an innocent smile, all his carefully kept restraint goes up in flames — and this time, he’s done playing the gentleman.

you said what? written by @ilovolderman / synopsis: You accidentaly call Bucky babe during a mission briefing in front of the whole team. (can be read as a stand alone but is apart of a mini drabble series!)

𝜗𝜚 ✷ scary my god you’re divine written by @cloudystevie / synopsis: he would do anything for you.

✱ dead of the night written by @bruisedboys / synopsis: bucky calls you, his loyal assistant, in the middle of the night, asking for your help. he’s got four assassins with him and they need a place to hide. you’re too in love with him to say no. SPOILER WARNING!! plot spoilers for thunderbolts

𝜗𝜚 ✷ summer surprise written by @pome-seed / synopsis: You've been looking forward to kicking off the summer with a week on your dads new boat. You decide to have one last night of fun before committing to a week on the sea with your family. But you're thrown into a world of shock when you realize the older man you slept with, only days prior, is not only friends with your dad, but also joining you for the trip.

anyone but you written by @nev3rfound / synopsis: you were Bucky's pocket of sunshine, his sweet girl outside of the avengers. a slice of normality in his less-than lifestyle, but what happens when you're pulled into it in the worst way?

show some loves to the authors ᡣ𐭩 recommendations by jes!

[flux1563]

Selling Herself

Words : 4k

Tags : Creampie, BBC

"Annyeong," Minju said softly to the air as she stepped off the plane, the word echoing in the vast emptiness of the airport terminal. America had always been a whirlwind of unpredictability, a stark contrast to the quiet orderliness of her hometown in Korea. The journey had drained her, leaving her stomach grumbling like a distant thunderstorm.

The clock above the baggage claim ticked closer to midnight with every weary step she took. The air had the scent of jet fuel and the lingering aroma of fast food. A sense of urgency gnawed at her, but she had nowhere to be, no one waiting for her. The only thing she had to look forward to was a hot meal.

Her eyes scanned the restaurant signs, looking for something familiar. The neon lights flickered in a cacophony of color, each promising a taste of home. Her stomach growled impatiently, making the decision for her. She pushed open the door of the nearest establishment, a small diner with a flickering "Open" sign.

The bell above the door jingled a feeble welcome as she stepped inside. The warmth of the room enveloped her like a comforting embrace, the smell of grease and stale coffee a peculiarly comforting scent. The only other soul was a large black man, his name tag reading 'Y/N'. His eyes met hers, and she offered a tentative smile. He nodded, his expression a mix of boredom and resignation. It was clear that the restaurant was about to close.

Minju slid into a booth by the window, her reflection staring back at her. Her white skin looked almost translucent in the fluorescent light, and her long, black hair was a tangled mess. She sighed, running her fingers through the knots, and glanced at the menu. The words swam before her eyes, a mix of English and Korean. Her stomach protested again, making the decision for her. She closed the menu and called out, "Excuse me," to the waiter, who was wiping down the counter with slow, deliberate strokes.

Y/N ambled over, his heavy boots scuffing against the linoleum floor. "What can I get you?" he asked, his voice a smooth bass that filled the empty room.

"I'll have the bulgogi," she said, her voice small in the vastness.

He nodded again, scribbled something on a pad, and disappeared into the kitchen. Minju leaned back, watching the world outside the window. The occasional car passed by, their headlights painting streaks of light across the rain-slicked pavement. The neon lights outside danced a silent disco across the puddles.

As she waited, she couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness. It was moments like these when she missed her family the most. Her mother's warm cooking, her father's gentle teasing, and her siblings' laughter. But she had come to America for a reason, to chase her dreams, and she couldn't let a little hunger or solitude deter her.

The sound of the kitchen door swinging open brought her back to reality. Y/N placed a steaming plate of bulgogi in front of her, the scent of sizzling meat and onions making her mouth water. She thanked him, and he retreated back to the counter, his eyes never leaving the clock on the wall.

As she savored each bite, Minju felt a sense of home wash over her. The tender beef melted in her mouth, the sweetness of the marinade a balm to her soul. She chewed slowly, trying to make the meal last as long as possible. When she had finished, she reached for her purse to pay, but her hand grasped at empty air. Panic set in as she realized her wallet was gone. She whipped around, but the diner remained empty except for the two of them.

Her heart racing, she checked every pocket, her mind reeling. She must have left it in the plane, she thought. But no, she had used it to pay for the airport Wi-Fi. The truth dawned on her. Someone had stolen her wallet while she was lost in her thoughts.

Her hand trembled as she pulled out her phone to call for help, but the screen remained dark. The battery had died. She slammed it on the table in frustration, the sound echoing through the empty room. Now what? She had no money, no ID, and no way to contact anyone.

The waiter looked up from his magazine, his expression unchanged. "Something wrong?" he asked, his voice as calm as ever.

"My wallet," she gasped, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's gone."

Y/N's eyes widened, and his hand hovered over the phone. "You okay?"

Minju took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "I... I think someone stole my wallet. I can't pay for the food."

Y/N's gaze didn't leave her for a moment. "But u need to paid the food," he repeated, his tone not unkind, but firm.

"I understand," Minju said, her voice small. "Can I pay it tomorrow?"

Y/N studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. The silence grew thick, heavy with the weight of her desperation. "I promise," she added, her voice stronger now, "I will come back tomorrow. I swear."

"I am sorry," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But I can't let you go without paying."

Minju looked at him, desperation etching lines on her youthful face. "I swear, I didn't mean to cause trouble. I don't have any money. Please, can't you make an exception?"

Y/N sighed, his expression still unreadable. "Look, I can help you out, but it's not free," he offered, his words measured.

Minju felt the color drain from her cheeks as she processed his proposal. "What...what do you mean?" she stuttered, her eyes darting around the empty diner.

Y/N leaned in, his gaze intense. "You pay with your body, I pay for the food. It's simple. You owe me a night, and I'll cover the bill."

Her stomach lurched. Was he serious? She searched his face for any hint of a joke, but found none. The gravity of her situation crashed down on her. She had no money, no identification, and no way to contact anyone. This was her only option.

Her eyes fell to the plate, the food now cold and untouched. She knew what he was saying was wrong, but the alternative was unthinkable. Slowly, she nodded. "Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Y/N's expression didn't change. He took the plate away and wiped down the table with the same slow, deliberate strokes. "Come with me," he said, gesturing to the back of the diner.

Her legs trembled as she followed him, her mind racing. She had never done anything like this before. The kitchen was a stark contrast to the cozy dining area, cold and sterile with stainless steel surfaces gleaming under the harsh lights.

He led her to a small room in the back, the door creaking as he opened it. Inside was a single bed, the blankets rumpled. She could feel the heat radiating off his body as he stood behind her.

"Take off your clothes," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Minju's hand shook as she reached for the button of her blouse. She felt the fabric part, exposing her pale skin to the cold kitchen air. She shivered, but not from the temperature. Her eyes remained downcast as she slipped off the garment, revealing a black bra and matching panties. They were simple, but they clung to her in a way that highlighted her curves. She felt vulnerable, like a deer caught in headlights.

Y/N's eyes roamed over her, his gaze lingering on her breasts, which heaved with every anxious breath she took. She felt his warm hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. His touch was firm, but not harsh. He studied her for a moment, his gaze intense.

"Take it off," he said, nodding to her bra and panties.

Minju's heart hammered in her chest, but she complied, her fingers fumbling with the clasp of her bra. It fell away, revealing her small, pert breasts, the tips already hardening with fear. She slid the panties down her legs and stepped out of them, feeling the cold floor against her bare feet. She kept her eyes on the floor, unable to meet his gaze.

He took a step closer, and she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. His hand reached out, gently tracing the curve of her spine. A shiver ran down her body that had nothing to do with the cold.

He turned her around and she saw the hunger in his eyes, a stark contrast to the calmness he had displayed earlier. He took in her naked form, his gaze lingering on her most intimate parts. For a moment, she felt a flicker of something other than fear. Desire? No, she couldn't be feeling that, could she?

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice a rumble in the quiet room. He stepped closer, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body. He reached out and cupped her face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "But don't get any ideas," he warned, his expression serious. "This is just business."

He led her to the bed, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her like a gentle force. She sat down, her legs dangling over the edge. He sat beside her, his weight making the bed squeak in protest.

"Lie down," he said, his voice firm.

Minju took a deep breath and lay back, the coldness of the bed seeping into her bones. She felt his hand on her thigh, his touch sending waves of heat through her. His thumb traced small circles, moving higher and higher until it brushed against the sensitive flesh between her legs.

Her body responded despite her fear, a betrayal she couldn't control. She bit her lip, trying to muffle the soft gasp that escaped her. His hand moved away, and she felt a moment of relief, but it was short-lived. He leaned over her, his breath warm on her face.

"You're mine tonight," he said, his voice low and commanding. "And you will do everything I say."

He kissed her, his lips rough and demanding. She didn't resist, her body going limp beneath him. As he kissed her, his hands began to explore, his touch growing more insistent. He tugged at her nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a moan from her.

Her mind screamed at her to fight, to run, but her body was a traitor. It responded to his touch, her hips moving of their own accord. His hand slid down her stomach and into the wetness between her legs, his fingers sliding easily inside her.

He broke the kiss, looking down at her with a smug smile. "See," he said, his voice thick with lust, "you want this."

Minju's cheeks burned with a mix of shame and anger. She knew she had to find a way out of this situation, but she also knew that right now, she had no power. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for what was to come.

Y/N's fingers continued to probe her, his thumb circling her clit with a skill that was surprisingly tender for a man who had just forced her into this situation. Despite her resentment, Minju felt herself growing wetter. His touch sent waves of pleasure crashing through her body, making her toes curl and her breath hitch.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "It's like you want this as much as I do."

Minju's eyes snapped open, and she looked at him with a mix of anger and defiance. "I don't want this," she spat out.

Y/N's smile grew wider, a hint of challenge in his eyes. "You're a bad liar, sweetheart," he said, his fingers still working their magic. He stood up and began to strip his body, each article of clothing hitting the floor like a declaration of war. His shirt came off first, revealing a chest that was a tapestry of muscles and tattoos. Her gaze was drawn to the dark ink that swirled over his skin, telling a story she couldn't read.

Her eyes widened when he unbuckled his pants, the sound of the zipper echoing through the room like a gunshot. He stepped out of them, and she couldn't help but stare at his erection, which was thick and imposing. She felt a strange mix of fear and fascination. This was the man who had just taken control of her body, and she couldn't help but wonder what he was going to do to her.

"No, it's so big," Minju said, her voice shaking with a mix of fear and disbelief. It was a reflexive protest, a last-ditch effort to maintain some semblance of control. Y/N chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to resonate through the room.

"Don't worry, I'll make it fit," he assured her, his confidence unwavering. He climbed onto the bed, his weight pressing her into the mattress. His hand slid down her body, his fingers playing with her wetness once more, spreading her open. The anticipation was almost unbearable, her body trembling with each touch.

Y/N's tongue replaced his fingers, tracing the delicate folds of her sex with surprising gentleness. Minju gasped, her body arching off the bed. The feeling was overwhelming, and she couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips. His mouth felt hot and wet, his tongue flicking against her clit with a skill that was both alarming and exhilarating. She had never felt anything like it before.

Her hands found his hair, tangling in the soft curls as she pulled him closer. His tongue delved deeper, licking and sucking with a fervor that was both terrifying and thrilling. She could feel her orgasm building, a pressure that grew with every stroke. Her legs quivered, and she was powerless to stop the sounds of pleasure that spilled from her mouth.

As she approached the edge, his fingers slipped inside her, curling to find that spot that made her eyes roll back in her head. He began to pump in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue. Minju's moans grew louder, her body writhing beneath him as she gave in to the sensation. The fear and anger were momentarily forgotten, replaced by a need so primal it was almost animalistic.

Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, making her whole body convulse. She screamed his name, her nails digging into his scalp. He didn't stop, riding out the waves of pleasure until she was limp and trembling. Only then did he pull back, his mouth glistening with her arousal.

"How does it feel?" he asked, his voice filled with a smug satisfaction.

Minju stared up at him, her eyes glazed with a mix of lust and anger. "It feels..." she began, but her words trailed off. How could she explain the tumult of emotions coursing through her? The fear and disgust were still there, but now they were tangled up with something else, something that made her body feel alive in a way she had never experienced before.

"Good?" he prompted, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded, unable to form coherent thoughts. Her cheeks burned with a mix of pleasure and humiliation. "It felt good," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

With surprising tenderness, Y/N helped Minju to her feet, his strong hands guiding her shakily to stand in front of the mirror. She looked at her reflection, the fluorescent lights highlighting every curve and angle of her naked body. Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of pity or disgust, but all she found was a smoldering hunger.

He positioned himself behind her, his chest pressed against her back, his arms wrapping around her waist. She could feel his arousal, hot and insistent, pressing into her thigh. His breath was warm on her neck as he whispered, "You're going to pay for every bite of that meal."

Minju's heart raced as she nodded, the reality of what she had agreed to fully setting in. But she had made her choice, and now she had to live with the consequences. "Be gentle," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N's grip tightened, but his touch grew surprisingly tender. He kissed the side of her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "I'll be as gentle as you need me to be," he murmured, his breath tickling her ear.

Minju felt him position himself behind her, his cock nudging against her wet entrance. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the intrusion. Slowly, inexorably, he pushed inside her, filling her in a way she had never felt before.

"FUCKKKK, it's so big," she screamed, the sensation overwhelming. His size stretched her, a mix of pain and pleasure that made her head spin. Y/N's grip tightened on her hips, holding her steady as he pushed deeper and deeper, his movements deliberate and measured.

Minju's eyes were squeezed shut, her nails digging into the bedspread. "More," she panted, surprised by her own words. She had never felt so full, so claimed. The initial pain had given way to a deep, gnawing need that was insatiable.

Y/N chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing her ear. "I ain't done yet," he said, and she felt him push against her, the last few inches of his thick length sliding into her with a slow, deliberate thrust. The sudden stretch was intense, and she let out a cry that was half pleasure, half pain.

He didn't move for a moment, letting her adjust to his size. She could feel his heart pounding against her back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His hands slid up her body, cupping her breasts, his thumbs flicking her nipples. The sensation was almost too much, and she felt her stomach clench around him.

"Ahh, it's inside my stomach," she moaned, the words slipping out of her mouth without thought. His chuckle was dark and smug, and she felt his grip tighten on her hips as he began to move.

Each thrust was a symphony of pleasure, sending Minju spiraling into an endless cycle of orgasms. Her eyes remained glued to the mirror, watching their reflection. The sight of his large, muscular body claiming hers was a heady mix of fear and desire. His thrusts grew faster, harder, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing through the room.

"I can feel you," she gasped, her voice hoarse with need. "You're so deep."

He grunted in response, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. His strokes grew more demanding, more powerful. She could feel herself losing control, her body responding to his every command.

"Cum for me," he ordered, his voice low and guttural. "Cum all over my cock."

And she did. The orgasm ripped through her like lightning, making her scream and buck against him.

Her body convulsed around him, her muscles contracting in waves of pleasure. He groaned, his own release imminent. The sound sent Minju spiraling into another climax, her legs giving out beneath her.

Y/N caught her, his strong arms wrapping around her waist as he pounded into her, his eyes locked on their reflection in the mirror. The sight of their bodies, joined so intimately, was both erotic and terrifying. She could see the pleasure etched on his face, his teeth gritted with the effort to hold back.

"Ahhh, ahh, ahh," she moaned, the words spilling out of her mouth like a chant. She could feel every inch of him, filling her completely. It was as if she was being split apart, remade in the image of his desire. And yet, she wanted more.

Y/N's pace grew erratic, his breathing ragged. "Again," he growled, his hips smacking against her ass. "Cum for me, baby."

Minju's eyes rolled back in her head, a whimper escaping her lips. "Again," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Y/N's grip tightened on her hips as he pumped into her with a fervor that bordered on desperation. She could feel his muscles tense, his body poised on the edge of release. The sight of their reflection in the mirror was almost too much to bear, a visceral reminder of the depraved act she had been forced into.

And yet, Minju couldn't deny the pleasure that was building within her. It was a wildfire, uncontrollable and all-consuming. She threw her head back, her eyes squeezed shut as she screamed out her orgasm. The sound was guttural, primal, echoing through the empty diner like a war cry.

"I'm gonna cum, Minju," Y/N growled, his voice strained with effort. She could feel his cock pulsing inside her, and it only served to push her closer to the edge.

"No, not inside," she panted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not safe."

Y/N's eyes narrowed in the mirror, his gaze intense. "You're mine," he said, his voice a low rumble. "And I'm going to fill you up."

Minju felt his cock swell even more inside her, the pressure building until she thought she would burst. "Please," she begged, her voice a desperate whisper. "Not inside, please."

But Y/N was past the point of reason. With a final, savage thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, and Minju felt the hot flood of his cum fill her. She gasped, her body convulsing around him as he emptied himself with a roar of triumph. His eyes never left hers, and she knew in that moment that she had lost any semblance of control she had clung to.

He held her there for a moment, panting and spent, before finally pulling out. She felt his warmth slip away, leaving her feeling empty and used. The room was silent except for the sound of their heavy breathing and the distant hum of the diner's kitchen appliances.

Y/N leaned in and kissed her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice still thick with lust.

Minju nodded, unable to find the strength to speak. The reality of what she had just done settled heavily in the pit of her stomach. The taste of him was still in her mouth, the smell of their sex filling the room. She felt soiled, used, but also...satisfied. It was a confusing mix of emotions she didn't know how to process.

"It is so good," she whispered to herself, trying to convince her racing thoughts to calm. Her body felt like it was on fire, each nerve ending still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. She had never felt so alive, so...consumed. It was a feeling that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"What did you say?" Y/N's voice was gruff, his chest still heaving from his exertion. He leaned over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his eyes searching hers in the mirror.

Minju licked her lips, tasting him on her mouth. "Your dick," she said, her voice still a little shaky. "It's amazing."

The smug smile that spread across his face was almost infectious. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "I knew you'd like it," he murmured, his voice full of satisfaction. "But tell me more. What makes it so amazing?"

Minju's cheeks flushed a deep red, but she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "It's so big," she said, her voice breathy with awe. "It fills me up like nothing else."

His chest rumbled with a laugh, his hands sliding down her body to grip her thighs. "You're so tight," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "It's like you were made for me."

The compliments rolled over her like a warm wave, soothing some of the fear and anger that had been building. "It's true," she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed. "It's like nothing I've ever felt before."

Y/N leaned in, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "And the way you cum around it," he said, his voice a dark promise. "It's like watching a firework display."

Minju couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine. "It's...it's just so much," she admitted, her voice trembling. "It's like nothing I've ever experienced."

"I know," he said, his voice gentle now. "But you're safe with me. I'll take care of you."

The words were like a balm to her soul, and she found herself nodding, her body relaxing against his. "Thank you," she murmured, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Y/N leaned back, his gaze never leaving hers in the mirror. "You don't need to thank me," he said, his voice thick with lust. "You paid for your meal in full."

Minju's stomach twisted at the reminder, but she couldn't deny that there was a dark thrill to his words. She had given herself to this stranger, and he had taken her with a passion that was both frightening and thrilling.

"Can we do it again?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N's smile grew wider. "Oh, baby," he said, his voice a low purr. "We're just getting started."

[prythianpages]

So Much To Prove | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader ft Azriel | Feeling much better now, you begin to crave Autumn pastries and find yourself missing home.

a/n: This was meant to be a little inbetween scene but the more I wrote, I decided to just call it pt 11 lol. A little under 3k.

warnings: angst, reader is pregnant, mentions of mood swings and pregnancy cravings

Azriel hated being here.

Spring remained unpredictable, its High Lord still wandering like a lost and restless beast. And yet, it was the safest place to meet. If not for the letter you’d written—the one you entrusted to Azriel to deliver safely—Azriel would’ve turned Eris’s request down without hesitation.

Azriel’s shadows slithered through the thick greenery, a bit agitated and needing to release their energy after having winnowed him here. Eris was already waiting, arms crossed over his chest, shoulder propped against the trunk of a tree. He looked the part of composed arrogance. Cool, collected, bored even. But Azriel’s shadows whispered otherwise. They pulsed with the quick, uneven rhythm of Eris’s heartbeat.

He didn’t bother masking the edge in his voice. “You said this was urgent?”

“Yes,” Eris replied. He straightened himself and approached Azriel. He stopped once he was close enough and reached for the leather satchel that had been hanging from his frame. He slipped it off, holding it out to Azriel. “I need you to give this to her for me.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, and his shadows shifted their movement, fluttering toward the satchel. They searched for anything hidden, anything sharp or deceptive. What could Eris possibly have to give that hadn’t already been left at your bedside, opened and ignored?

After a moment, he took the satchel and opened, curiosity getting the best of him.

Azriel blinked. “You summoned me to another court… for pastries?”

Eris’s jaw twitched. “They’re not just any pastries. They’re apple turnovers, a specialty from Autumn and her favorite.”

Azriel said nothing. He simply stared at the pastries nestled within the bag, alongside a few other Autumn delicacies. They were still warm. His shadows curled around the satchel as if they were savoring the spiced scent of cinnamon and baked apples. Even he knew they were your favorite—recalling the night he first met you in the Day Court and the story your brother had told him then.

“She’s still in your mother’s care, yes?” Eris asked, voice quieter now. The real reason he’d called for this “urgent” meeting at last slipping through. “I’m not asking for details, shadowsinger. Just—” He paused, exhaling sharply, frustration tightening his features.  “Is she all right? Are they both all right? Is the power…faring well?”

The male before him unsettled Azriel more than a threat ever could. Because this wasn’t the Eris he knew. Not the sharp-tongued fox wrapped in layers of calculation and ego. Eris didn’t look like the future High Lord he always boasted himself to be. Up close, Azriel could see it more clearly now—how exhaustion clung to him. The stubble lining his jaw, the slight darkness beneath his eyes, the strands of red hair falling unkempt across his brow. 

“She’s doing much better and the baby is fine,” Azriel finally responded, keeping it short and simple.

You had yet to manifest the power Eris had given you, and Azriel couldn’t help but wonder if it lay dormant, waiting for the right moment to ignite. Or perhaps,  it never would. Maybe it had simply been enough to soothe your body.

You still complained of feeling warm from time to time, but nothing close to the delirious, feverish state that had once gripped you.If anything, it seemed the ember of Eris’s gift had stirred something in the babe growing inside you. The baby had grown even more restless, kicking and shifting more often now, but Madja had assured you that she was healthy and growing well. 

But Azriel didn’t think that was worth mentioning, still on edge and tense around the Autumn male.

Something broke in Eris’s expression, a mixture of tenderness and relief. It flashed in his eyes and was gone before Azriel’s shadows could study it further. He didn’t let himself be swayed, still not trusting the male before him fully. 

Yes, Eris had come to help you. He had offered you a fragment of his power—a gift Azriel never imagined the Autumn heir would part with. Not when power was the very thing Eris and his brothers always fought for. Though, after everything Eris had put you through, it had felt less like a gift and more like the bare minimum. It was the least he could do for you, even if he questioned Eris’s motives behind it all. 

“She has everything she needs,” Aziel decided to add. “My mother and I see to that personally.”

Eris nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes drifting toward the trees. Azriel’s shadows followed his gaze, mildly alert, but found nothing amiss.

“Well,” Azriel said, slipping the satchel over his shoulder. “Was this all?”

“Yes,” Eris replied and then paused thoughtfully. His expression suddenly hardened. “If anything happens, you call for me.”

Ah, there he was. 

The Eris that Azriel was used to–sharp and demanding. Azriel met his gaze and in that moment, a rare understanding passed between them. He never expected to find common ground with Eris. But now, there was you.

He’ll be honest. His reasons for approaching you hadn’t been pure. When his shadows first caught traces of Eris on you, he’d wanted information, some leverage or dirt on the Autumn heir. When he learned you were pregnant, something inside him faltered. And when he actually got to know you, he liked you. He hadn’t meant for the two of you to grow so close in a short period of time. Though he only saw you as a friend and nothing more, he had to admit the fact his relationship with you irritated Eris, was a bonus.

Speaking of you…The letter you’d given him tugged at his attention, as if it were burning a hole in his pocket. “I actually have something for you too,” Azriel muttered, pulling the folded letter from one of his pockets and holding it out to Eris.

Eris accepted it slowly. His gaze dropped to the parchment, and something in his expression shifted—softened—as he turned it over and saw his name scrawled in neat, familiar handwriting. That same tenderness from earlier flickered across his features.

And for a brief, fragile second, Azriel thought—maybe Eris was capable of being good, of kindness and love. The moment passed as quick as it had come, his shadows reminding him of all the other things Eris had done, of who Eris was. He was someone who didn’t give anything without expecting something in return… 

This could all be an act, for all Azriel knew. He’d heard of the things a bond can do to a male. So Azriel said nothing. Just turned, preparing to winnow away.

“The turnovers,” Eris said, halting him in his movements. “Don’t tell her they’re from me.”

Azriel glanced back, a brow lifting in confusion. 

“I think she’ll enjoy them more if she believes they came from you.” 

Azriel caught the meaning buried beneath the words and didn’t bother correcting him. Let Eris believe what he wanted.

**

Meanwhile in Rosehall

The cravings had come in full force since your fever broke.

Before, they had been little things. A peach caramel tart here, a beef stew there, the scent of roasted pecans. Rosanna had humored them, indulging you with gentle smiles and reassuring you it was no trouble for her as she loved cooking. You were immensely grateful for it, given your own skills in the kitchen were extremely lacking. 

All cravings had one thing in common and you found yourself missing home more and more every day. You hadn’t realized how hard it would be, to not be able to go back home. You missed the peaceful rustle of autumn leaves, missed the warm scent of woodsmoke in the air and the gleam of burnished gold across the forests of the Autumn Court.

You missed him too.

Even thinking his name hurt in that aching way that came after the worst of a heartbreak had settled. At first, you’d been shattered when he pushed you away. Then, the anger had come, sharp and fiery. You’d cursed his name, cursed yourself for hoping. Cursed the bond after it had snapped for you even.

Now… now you didn’t know what to feel.

The ache lingered and the uncertainty there grew.

When you’d fallen ill, fevered and weak from carrying his child, he came.

You hadn’t seen him but you felt him when he held your hand. You heard when he whispered those three words to you, the ones you had hoped he’d say back to you back then when you first said them yourself. You also heard him when he apologized and promised that he’d make things right, wishing that you had the strength to respond and talk. You barely had the energy to mumble out a “don’t go.” Though it had been so quiet, you’re certain he hadn’t heard.

When you found out he’d given you a kernel of his power to help you and the baby—Well, you hadn’t known what to do with that.

Eris was the heir to Autumn. His power meant everything to him, one he’d trained and fought so hard to strengthen. And he gave a piece, though small, of it to you.

It shouldn’t have mattered so much.

Yet it did.

You couldn’t pretend not to love him. You couldn’t stop missing him, couldn’t stop reaching for memories of his voice, his warmth, the way he held your gaze like you were the only thing he saw. You also couldn’t forget how he let you go.

So you sat in this awkward space, somewhere between yearning and aching, between heartbreak and hope. It made you question everything.

You’d convinced yourself that he’d wanted you back only because of the mating bond—that the promise of powerful offspring had been too enticing for a calculating male like him to ignore. You were just a piece of a future he was planning, not someone he chose. But then why did it sound like it had hurt him to walk away? 

Why did he whisper I love you? Those were not words to say so lightly, given your situation. Why give up a part of his power, the very power he’d always protected so fiercely, to protect both you and the baby? 

He could’ve let you suffer through the rest of your pregnancy as high risk as it had become. Madja had confirmed the child would have had to be born early but she would survive. It was you that Madja was concerned since your baby’s blood was slowly burning you from the inside out.

Either way, you were tired of guessing, tired of grieving a story you hadn’t even let finish. It’s what led you to finally writing him back. In the letter, you asked if he would meet you. Just to talk, to see if he’d say the things he said to you when you were unconscious again.

Rosanna had kept you occupied the past couple of days, sensing trouble on your mind. Once you were back on your feet, she continued to enlist your help with simple tasks such as gathering vegetables from her garden, sorting through old books and helping her with groceries from the morning market. 

When Rosanna caught you staring wistfully out the window this morning, murmuring about turnovers and cinnamon sugar, she had jumped at the opportunity to make them for you. However, you insisted that you were going to give them a try yourself. Under her supervision, of course. You did not want your incompetency to affect her beloved kitchen. Besides, you need to learn yourself as you could not always depend on Rosanna to be there. 

Growing up a noble lady had come with its perks. You were a master of all things expected such as crafting, etiquette, subtle politics disguised as politics. But cooking? Not so much. Eris had been the one to teach you how to turn on a stove. He also randomly taught you how to fish with your bare hands. But even he had spoiled you, taking care of everything else. 

And so you decided to give this a try. Surely, making a dessert couldn’t be so hard, right?

Well, you were wrong.

The kitchen was a mess, flour dusting every surface like a snowfall. You’d burned your first batch, undercooked the second. The third was… edible. But it wasn’t right. Not what you remembered. Not what you needed.

The tears had come so suddenly you hadn’t even had time to warn Rosanna.

Now you sat slumped at her kitchen table, red-eyed and miserable, a failed turnover in front of you and your hands cradling your growing bump.

“I can’t do anything right,” you choked out. “How am I supposed to raise a child on my own?”

Rosanna reached over and gently rubbed your back. “It takes a village, sweetheart. And you’re not alone. Now, have some tea while I try a batch myself.”

You opened your mouth to protest when another voice cut in.

“No need.”

Azriel stepped into the kitchen, his shadows retreating behind him as he moved. In his hands was a leather satchel. He pulled out a brown paper bag, carefully placing it in front of you as if the contents were fragile.

The scent hit you before you even opened it. Warm apples, cinnamon, butter. A taste of home.

Your head whipped around so quickly your neck twinged. Eyes wide with disbelief and still teary eyed from moments ago, you stared at the bag, then at Azriel. 

“How… how did you know?”

Azriel held your gaze for a long moment before his lips curved—just barely—into a small, sheepish smile. “A little fox told me,” he murmured.

You didn’t catch the deeper meaning. Didn’t think about who that little fox could be. You were too overwhelmed—too grateful—to think at all. You weren’t even aware that Azriel had come from delivering your letter. You had just given it to him, asking if he could give it to Eris next time he saw him.

You burst into tears all over again.

Rosanna barely had time to react before you were rising unsteadily to your feet, arms outstretched to hug Azriel. You couldn’t get close enough to wrap your arms around him, your stomach stopping you. It had grown over these past couple of days, more noticeably so, and that sent you into a fresh wave of sobs. All the changes you’d gone through recently, all the hormones, the emotions…

“I can’t even hug you properly because I’m too big now,” you cried, pulling back and hands flying to your face to cover it.  “I’m huge.”

Azriel looked helplessly toward his mother, his shadows shifting anxiously around his feet. Rosanna only shook her head, a silent warning to not encourage those thoughts. There was a hint of amusement that danced in her eyes as she mouthed “say something.”

It was his shadows who nudged him forward, prompting him to pull you into a gentle side hug, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. You leaned into it with a soft hiccup, your tears now easing into quiet sniffles.

“You’re not huge. You’re just carrying–”

“A fire gremlin?"

Azriel winced, his wings tensing. His shadows let out a hiss, reprimanding him once more.  He’d never live that one down. The name had slipped out in a moment of bitterness. It was aimed at Eris, not the innocent babe. He’d told you about it later, guilt-ridden, and apologized the next morning when he was unable to meet your eyes.

There was no anger in your tone, his shadows picking up on the barest hint of teasing in your voice. He let out a small exhale.

"No," he breathed. “You may be carrying Prythian’s tiniest threat… but she’s precious cargo and worth every inch of space she’s taking up.”

You let out a small laugh and Azriel let go of you. He placed his hands on your shoulder, gently guiding you back to the kitchen table. 

“Now, let’s keep her happy and give her the apple turnover she’s been craving...”

**

Eris didn’t winnow back right away.

He remained in spring, still standing in the small clearing longer after Azriel disappeared. The letter weighed more than parchment should, heavier than the air around him. He’d moved to the edge of the glade, sitting on a fallen log hidden beneath a curtain of vines. It was then that he allowed himself to unfold the letter.

He drew in a breath and read.

Eris,

I debated for days whether or not to write this but you deserve to know that the baby is safe. I am doing much better now, too. Thank you. Azriel told me what you did and I also heard all you said to me.  

I want to do what’s best for this baby and I have questions. I can’t disclose my location to you but I would like to meet to talk. Azriel said he could help us arrange something. This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you completely. But it does mean I’m not holding onto anger the way I once did.

If you want to explain, I will hear you out. I don’t know what comes after that. I’m not promising anything. But let’s meet and discuss.

Eris’s thumb swept over your signature before gently folding the letter. He pressed it to his chest and for a long moment, he just sat there, staring at the dirt and leaves, trying to collect the fragments of himself scattered over weeks of regret.

Then he stood.

His shoulders were straighter and though his eyes were still rimmed with fatigue, there was a spark behind those amber irises again. You’d finally opened the door. Not wide or enough to step through. But cracked. Just enough for light to bleed through. 

Just enough for hope to find him again.

a/n: I'm going to follow this poll & take a little break from the angst to write something lighter. So the next update will go back in time and show Eris & Reader pre-angst. As I try to sort out some details for the ending of this lol. If you have any suggestions, anything you'd like to see or thoughts you'd like to share, please do so (:

I've loved reading your reactions and thoughts so far!

series taglist: @kodafics , @shinyghosteclipse, @marrass, @posierosie, @solanaaaaaaa

@tele86, @bubybubsters, @k-homosapien, @mariaxliliana, @kathren1sky-blog

@anainkandpaper, @icey--stars, @moonlovefairy, @hellohauntedturnstudent, @lucia-valentinaa,

@wrenisrad, @smol-grandpa, @sleepylunarwolf, @63angel, @anuttellaa

@anon1227 @paleidiot @thatacotargirl, @queenoffeysand , @slut4acotar @awkardnerd

@blueroseava , @lovetia , @historygeekqueen , @idk1027 ,@naturakaashi

@blightyblinders , @wolvesnravens , @galaxystern08 , @faeofthemoonandstars , @antisocial-architect

@elisha-chloe, @cwallace02sblog, @randomramblesfanfiction, @moonlitlavenders, @booksnwriting

@sunny1616, @holb32, @gamarancianne, @daemyratwst, @ratgirl2020 @balufy

[no1blacksapphirefan]

for the Self Aware AU, I was wondering if I could request the Beast and Ancient cookies (and Black Sapphire and Elder Fairy Cookie) reacting to seeing the play working on something diligently for awhile with the app playing music in the background, the player sometimes picking them up to get a better look at them occasionally, and then after awhile they see the player in a Cosplay of said Cookie and that's what the player had been studying them so much for and working so diligently on?

I'd love to cosplay some of the cookies honestly but I can't buy a wig and they're usually expensive </3 Anywho, here's your request done!

((Wrote this when I was kinda eepy so please ignore any mistakes I made 🙏))

Shadow Milk He's trying to peer closely at what you're doing, darn this screen!! He's just curious why you seem to both be paying attention to him and not. What's gotten his favourite star all concentrated??

His eyes widen a bit as you came into view wearing a different outfit...his outfit, wearing a wig...that resembled him...oh he gets such an insanely happy and giddy smile. Giggling like a school girl as he sees you look over yourself happily.

He could get used to seeing you wear his own outfit, oh how he'd love to compliment you in person, you deserve all the praise and he doesn't think it deserves to be said through the screen.

Burning Spice You already got his attention as you have his cookie profile open, looking back and forth, seemingly working hard. You've been both paying attention to him but also he's been lacking it. He questions what could be so important that you're-

He can't help that large grin as he sees you wear an outfit similar to his, twirling around as you happily look into the mirror, bringing the phone with you so you can compare the two. He can't help but let out a loud laugh of delight, it might've startled you, he didn't mean it he promises!! He's just in such a delight seeing you're outfit.

You should, no have to wear it more often!! It suits you better than he could ever imagine. And if you do continue to wear it on different occasions? Oh he's so prideful about it.

Mystic Flour She's rather confused at first, were you just admiring her? So be it. Though with the fact you're only glancing at her? She feels there's something else with the way you continue to look at her closely before placing your attention on something else.

She pauses for a moment as she sees you appear wearing similar attire to her own. Not only her attire but her hair and veil. Do you wish...to be her? She can't say she's unhappy, the way you look is absolutely amazing.

While she wouldn't be looking to see if you wore her attire again, she'll be very happy if you do. She thinks it suits you, perhaps if you come to her world she'll let you wear the actual outfit of hers.

Pure Vanilla He's so curious, what's gotten his birdie attention that requires looking at him? Were you drawing him? Oh he'll be so honoured. He'd love to see how you draw him and if he can he would hang whatever it is on his wa-

He's so surprised to see you come into view and you're wearing his outfit. So that's what you've been working on! You even made your own staff, oh you're so creative and you used that skill on him!! He's so happy to see it. He's fascinated by your handiwork.

He'd love to see you wear it again! Just spotting you holding onto the staff you made is enough for him honestly, he's all smiley and happy when he sees it.

White Lily She waits patiently, she assumes you'll come back and play the game. There's a reason you opened up the game anyways right? She's willing to wait even if she wants to know why you keep looking at her and than away.

She nearly lets out a gasp seeing you wear her outfit. Wearing things she wore. Did you want to be her? Really? She's so surprised and flustered on the inside. If you decide to cosplay Dark Enchantress Cookie inside? She'll be mouth agape, you look happy though so...

She gets a bit blushy every time she spots you wearing the cosplay of her. She thinks you look nice and is so honoured you seem to want to wear her outfit.

Hollyberry Patiently awaiting until she has your attention again. She doesn't mind waiting! Besides you seem pretty concentrated, she won't interrupt you even if she could. Just waits happily until you come back.

Her smile widens more as soon as she sees you come into view. I feel she knows decently what a cosplay is. And she's so happy you've chosen her to cosplay. She admires all the little details you've put into making the outfits. No wonder you looked at her so intently at some times.

She'll love to see you wear it again, and if she can? I see her wanting to do the same. Gathering cloths and such to try and wear a similar outfit to yours. Style a wig so it fits you perfectly as well. it'll be the perfect matching outfit!!

Golden Cheese She waits as well, but becomes almost impatient after awhile. She'll still wait for you, she always will. But what's taking you so long?? Don't you need to do a bit of arena?? Here she'll solo, just come back soon-

Her eyes widen in surprise before her she grins like mad. Of course you'd want to look like her, she admires your handiwork. How the outfit you're wearing is near perfect to hers and how the wig you're wearing is styled just like hers. You've just boosted her ego by 10.

You have to wear it often!! Even 24/7 (She knows you can't) she adores how you look. Please wear it more for her :)

Dark Cacao He didn't take notice. Well he did, any cookie would realise how your attention seems to be on two things at once but he didn't mind. It was rather tranquil, besides aside from small curses he'd hear fall from your mouth.

When he sees what you've been working on, he's more than surprised. How long did that take? Surely not the amount of time you two have spent sitting together right? This must've taken days if not weeks. He can't say he's unhappy though, you look fantastic. You even made your own sword!!

The memory of you wearing that outfit is forever in graved into his mind, while he doesn't mind seeing it again and he'll be more than happy to witness just that. He thinks it's much more magical the first time he saw it.

Black Sapphire Oh he wants to grab your attention and he knows it wouldn't be too hard. But you seem far to concentrated on something and he swears he saw a needle in your hands. He'd rather not hurt you by accident.

All that annoyance of waiting disappears as he sees you wear...his outfit? His hair? Omg even his mic??? He knew he had fans but never would he think he'd have someone who wanted to look like him. Oh he's more than honoured. You look fantastic, dare he says you look better than him?

Wear it more often, he encourages it. He won't force you but he'll try his best to hint for you to wear it. And if other cookies are around when that happens? He's more than quick to point it out proudly.

Elder Faerie What's going on in that mind of yours he wonders. You seem rather interested. He can tell your sewing something, then styling and then crafting but he can't put it together on what you seem to be doing.

Until you come into view, admiring yourself in your mirror as you see how you look. You look fantastic in his outfit. And he can tell so much thought went into it, you didn't seem to miss ANY detail and he's more than impressed.

He'd love to see it again, it's not a need or anything but any time he sees you wear that outfit again he's instantly put into a happy mood, the faerie knights can tell how much seeing you cosplay him puts him in a good mood.

[corruptedcaps]

Cocksure

Alex pressed herself against the closet wall, her breath shallow, heart pounding so loud she feared it might betray her. The slatted door let in thin slivers of light allowing her to peer in. The apartment was dark, but the faint musk of cologne, protein powder, and something primal lingered, twisting her stomach.

She was trapped, hiding in the bedroom closet of the place she once called hers, waiting for the man she loved, or more accurately the monster he’d become, to fall asleep. How had it come to this? Her mind spiraled back, piecing together the nightmare that had led her here.

It started three weeks ago, in their new apartment, a dusty haven where she and Zack had laughed over thrift store furniture and tangled cords, dreaming of their final college year together. They were assembling a lopsided bookcase when Zack tugged at a loose floorboard. He cracked it open, revealing a hidden object.

When he unveiled it, Alex recoiled with equal parts disgust and laughter. It was a large, flesh toned rubber dildo, grotesque and out of place. She laughed as Zack waved it around, dubbing it “Excalibur.” But her amusement turned to horror when he jokingly slid it into his pants.

His eyes widened, then rolled back. He collapsed, convulsing, as his body transformed before her eyes, muscles bulging, jaw sharpening, height stretching. The dildo melted, merging with him, enveloping his own modest dick, becoming real.

When he stood, he was no longer the same nerdy Zack she loved. His soft features were gone, replaced by a chiseled, godlike face with piercing green eyes. And his voice, now cruel and cold, called her an “ugly loser,” a “zero not worthy of him.” He threw her out, slamming the door on her pleas.

Since then, Zack had become a campus legend. A six foot something quarterback, worshipped by the football team and adored by fans. He strutted around with head cheerleader Madison, once a kind, approachable girl who’d organized charity drives and remembered everyone’s name.

Now, Madison was different, vain, cold, her social media filled with smirks and tight outfits, her warmth replaced by a queen bee edge. When once she used to actively defy the mean bitch stereotype of a cheerleader, she now embraced it, embodied it with pleasure.

Alex didn't know how but she knew Madison's new attitude was solely because of Zack's corrupted cock. It had turned him into an arrogant bastard who thought he was god's gift to the world so it stood to reason that he had rubbed off on her. Or more accuracy, entered her. The thought made Alex shudder.

That's why Alex was hiding in the closet now. She had to stop him before he infected anyone else with his darkness. Sure he was with Madison now but what would happen when he moved on to other innocent good natured women. She had to get that thing off of Zack before he made an army of Madisons.

However as she listened to Zack on speaker phone as he emerged from the bathroom after freshly showering her assumption that his new anatomy had corrupted Madison was put into question.

“Baaaaaaabe. Where are you? I want that cock of yours.” Said Madison from down the line clearly tipsy with the sound of a celebration in the background.

Zach smirked. “I just need to change and then I'll be over, everyone knows the party doesn't start until I get there.” He said making Alex's eyes roll.

“Oooookay, but when you get here you're fucking me first! You've promised for weeks you'd bang my brains out. I want the power you promised me! I deserve it don't I?” Madison whined.

Alex’s mind reeled. If they hadn’t had sex, how had Madison changed? And what would happen when they did?

“Yeah, yeah I will. Gotta go.” He said in reply, not even waiting for her to say anything back before hanging up. He threw his phone onto the bed and flexed in the mirror, marvelling at himself. “You're not deserving of my cock. Not yet.”

As he continued to pose and flex, his towel slipped from his hips to display his full godlike body. Despite Alex's new revulsion to his attitude she felt herself get momentarily weak at the sight of him. There was no denying his beauty, his raw power. She shook her head, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“Only I'm worthy of my cock right now.” He growled as he wrapped his right hand around his impressive member. Alex’s cheeks burned, and she averted her eyes, but the sound of skin on skin kept her attention pinned.

He let out a low, self satisfied chuckle, his hand moving with slow, deliberate intent. Alex’s stomach churned as she realized what he was doing. The air felt thicker, heavier, like the room itself was holding its breath. Zack’s breathing grew ragged, his movements more rhythmic, and Alex tried to close her eyes but she was drawn to watching it like a moth to the flame.

Zack’s moans grew louder, more primal. His hand moved faster, but more precise. It was like watching a musician at the top of his game play his instrument. Alex couldn't stop herself from getting a little turned on by what she was seeing. She was transfixed by it. She didn't know how long she was watching before Zach arched his body, a guttural sound tearing from his throat.

“I'm a king! I'm a fucking god!” He yelled as cum erupted from his cock and shot onto the mirror. His grip loosed and his speed eased as he smirked self satisfied at himself. He collapsed back onto the mattress, panting, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

“Goddamn.” He muttered, wiping his brow. “Better every time.” He sprawled naked across the sheets, his limbs heavy with the arrogance of someone who owned the world. His phone buzzed once, twice, but he ignored it, his breathing slowing as the sapped energy became too much and sleep claimed him.

She counted his breaths, waiting until they deepened, steady and slow. Minutes dragged by, ten, maybe fifteen. Finally, she eased the closet door open, wincing at the faint creak. Zack didn’t stir.

She crept toward the bed, her bare feet silent on the carpet. Her hands trembled as she approached. Up close, Zack was even more imposing, his chest rising and falling, muscles taut even in sleep, his face a perfect mask of beauty and menace. And there, exposed, was the source of it all. His cursed cock, resting against his thigh, unnaturally flawless even in its now flaccid state.

Alex’s throat tightened. She had to try. She knelt beside the bed, her breath hitching as she reached out. Her fingers hovered, hesitating, then wrapped gently around it, her touch feather light.

It was warm, like it had a pulse of its own. She gave a small tug, expecting resistance, but hoping it might somehow detach. But it didn’t budge. She tried again, a little harder, her grip tightening. Still nothing.

Zack’s breathing remained steady, his face untroubled. Emboldened, Alex tugged again, then again, her movements slow and careful at first, almost clinical. On the third tug, a single drop of cum emerged, glistening at the tip before sliding down, dripping over her fingers.

She froze, her stomach lurching with disgust, but the sensation was fleeting, replaced by a strange tingling. Her nails began to grow, lengthening into perfect, glossy manicures, their edges sharpening with an eerie precision.

Alex’s eyes widened as she lifted her hand, the drop of cum still warm on her skin, and turned her fingers in the dim light. The manicure was flawless, long, sleek, with a high gloss finish that caught the faint glow. A thought slipped into her mind, unbidden, “This looks hawt.”

She bit her lip, admiring the way the nails made her hand look elegant, feminine, sexy even. She tried to push the thought aside, shaking her head slightly. Focus, she told herself. This is to save him. But the allure was undeniable, a small thrill sparking in her chest.

She swapped hands, wrapping her other hand around Zack’s cock, assuring herself that it was to try a different position but deep down a part of her hoped another drop would spill out to give her hands a matching set of nails.

To the delight of that part of her psyche another drop of cum popped out. It glistened as it dripped over her hand, and she felt the now familiar tingling ripple through her skin. Her nails began to grow, matching the first, long, glossy, and perfect.

The pride swelled, her mind warping further as she admired her hands. “I deserve to look this good.” She thought, the idea feeling foreign yet intoxicating. She shook off the intrusive thought, she was here to save him after all not get a new set of claws.

“Does he need saving?” Said a new thought that slithered into her mind. “This Zack is powerful, beautiful, commanding. Why would I change that?” It continued. Alex felt her mind at war with itself and as she would usually do in stressful situations she raised her hand to bite at her nails.

However in that moment she forgot, or maybe deep down chose not to remember, that cum was still on her fingers. A small amount coated her lips and a tiny drop slipped into her mouth. She swallowed it absentmindedly, the taste sharp and warm, sending a shiver down her spine.

Her pupils dilated and her lips plumped up in an instance. They become fuller, softer, a perfect, glossy pout that seemed designed to seduce. The sensation was immediate, her arousal spiked, a wave of heat flooding her body. Her nipples hardened, her thighs clenched, and her mind fogged with a raw, primal need.

Her thoughts twisted further, the subtle corruption sinking deeper. She stared at Zack’s cock, her mouth watering as the taste lingered on her tongue. “He’s mine.” She thought, the possessiveness startling her.

She tried to shake it off, to focus on her original goal, her hand returning, wrapping around his cock. However her tugs became slower, more rhythmic, almost sensual, as she imagined what it would be like to walk alongside him as who he is now, rather than the nerd he once was

To be the kind of woman who could match his perfection. The good, nerdy Alex who cared about others, who valued kindness and humility, was starting to fell like a distant memory, a weak shadow she was leaving behind with every passing second.

The longer she tugged at his cock the more it began to harden. A strange sense of pride flickered within her, uninvited. She was doing this to him, even in his sleep. She, Alex, the shy girl who always played it safe, was making this godlike man horny. The thought sent a shiver through her.

The desire pulsing through Alex became too much to resist, a relentless tide that drowned her fading resolve. Her mouth watered as she stared at Zack’s cock.

She tried to justify it, her mind scrambling for a rational excuse. “My hands are working, sort of, but I need more leverage.” She told herself. “So maybe if my mouth tries, it could loosen whatever’s holding it to him.” Deep down, she knew it was a flimsy plan, a dumb excuse that wasn’t supposed to work, that couldn’t possibly work.

But the corruption had taken root, her thoughts warping further with every heartbeat. The idea of saving Zack, of restoring the nerdy boy she once knew, felt increasingly irrelevant, almost laughable. Why would she want to undo this perfection? This powerful, beautiful man beneath her hands could be hers, no! Should be hers! The thought sent a thrill through her, her nipples hardening further as a wicked smile tugged at her lips.

Alex’s restraint shattered completely, the hunger consuming her entirely. She couldn’t resist any longer, she needed to taste him fully. Her hands trembled as she leaned in, her enhanced lips parting, and she wrapped them around Zack’s cock, the warmth and texture overwhelming her senses.

The taste exploded on her tongue, rich and intoxicating, sending a shiver of pleasure through her body. Her eyes rolled back, a muffled moan vibrating in her throat as she surrendered to the sensation, her mind spiralling deeper into its subtle corruption.

The act itself fuelled the transformation within her. The good, cautious Alex faded further, her thoughts warping with every bob of her head. She wasn’t just doing this to save him anymore, she was doing this out of pure selfish pleasure for herself.

Her mind painted vivid images, herself strutting through campus, head held high, her flawless body a testament to her new dominance. The old Alex, with her nerdy insecurities and selfless heart, felt like a distant ghost, one she was eager to bury.

She imagined crushing that weak version of herself, her glossy nails tearing through that fragile spirit, and the thought sent a jolt of wet heat through her. Her movements grew more confident, her tongue swirling with a newfound skill she never had before, her lips sliding with a rhythm that felt almost instinctive.

Drops of precum flower down her throat, tightening her body as it entered stomach. Her waist cinched leaving her hips wider, her ass more pronounced as a result. Fuzzy hair all over her body retracted in giving her smooth velvety skin. Her skin took on a golden tan replacing the ghost like paleness she had cultivated to now.

Her mind whispered dark promises. “Make him yours. Become a bitch. Take your throne.” The idea was intoxicating, drowning out the last remnants of her original intent. She wasn't here to save him, she was here to claim him.

Zack stirred, a low groan rumbling from his throat as his body registered the intense pleasure coursing through him. His eyes fluttered open, confusion flickering across his face as the haze of sleep lifted and he realized, despite her changes, that his ex girlfriend’s lips were wrapped around his cock. “Alex?” He rasped, his voice thick with sleep and shock.

She paused, her lips glistening as she pulled back just enough, her eyes locking onto his with a sultry, commanding gaze.

She pulled her lips slowly off of his cock and with a wicked smile she ran her tongue slowly up his shaft, the tip of her tongue grazing the tip of his cock. She savoured the resulting shudder. “Sorry to wake you baby. Want me to stop?” She purred, her voice low and dripping with a new, seductive authority.

Zack’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he took in her slightly transformed appearance. Her flawless skin, her slimmer body, her glossy nails, the slutty look in her eyes. He managed to shake his head, the motion desperate, eager. “Fuck no!” He groaned.

“Right answer.” Alex murmured, her smile widening with triumph. She dove back in, her mouth working him with renewed fervor. Zack’s head fell back, a moan of ecstasy coming from his throat as she took him deeper, her hands gripping his thighs, nails leaving faint red trails.

Alex felt Zack tense beneath her, his breathing growing ragged, his thighs quivering as he teetered on the edge of release. The sensation of his impending climax sent a thrill through her, but she wasn’t ready to let it end, not yet. With a wicked smirk, she pulled back, leaving his cock throbbing in the cool air. “Not so fast.” She purred, her voice a velvet command, her eyes glinting with intent.

Zack gasped, his hands clutching the sheets, his eyes pleading as he looked up at her, desperate for more. But Alex had other plans. She stood, her flawless skin radiating power, and peeled off her clothes with a slow, deliberate motion, revealing her modest body that was soon to change.

Balling up saliva into her mouth, swirling around the bits of precum still remaining, she let it drool out of her mouth and onto her meagre A cup breasts, rubbing the liquid into them. She moaned in wanton lust as they grew bigger and bigger, becoming flawless C cups, perky and round. An improvement but she wanted more. She desired more.

Her tight pussy glistened with arousal as she climbed onto the bed, straddling him, hovering just above his aching cock. The heat between them was unbearable, a taut string ready to snap.

“Do you want me, baby?” She asked, her voice a sultry whisper, leaning closer so her hair brushed his chest, her nails grazing his skin.

Zack nodded frantically, his voice hoarse with need. “Yes, fuck yes!” He gasped. “More than anything.”

Her smile turned predatory as she positioned herself, her mind fully warped into this new, dominant persona. She wanted more. More proof.

“Tell me I’m a queen, a goddess. Tell me you’ll do anything for me. Tell me you’ll dump that pathetic Madison.” She purred, her voice a sultry command rather than a request.

Zack’s breath hitched, his body trembling with need as he gazed up at her, captivated by her transformed beauty. “You’re a queen.” He rasped, his voice thick with desperation. “A goddess. I’ll do anything for you. Anything! Madison is nothing compared to you, just… please.”

Her smile widened, a cruel satisfaction settling into her features as she savored his words, her mind fully warped into this new, commanding identity that still wasn’t happy.

She cupped his chin and leaned into his ear, her voice barely over a whisper. “Pledge your soul to me, tell me I’m your first, your last, your everything. That this evil cock of yours belongs to me. Then this pussy is all yours.”

She pulled back and for a moment was afraid he might pull a muscle from holding back so much. “Take it! You have it! It’s always been you!” He groaned loudly.

Satisfied, she shifted her hips, lowering herself slowly, deliberately, until her pussy sank onto his cock, slotting together like perfect puzzle pieces. They both moaned, the sound raw and primal, filling the room as the connection ignited.

The sensation of Zack’s cock filling her was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure that crashed through Alex’s transformed body. She groaned deeply, her lips parting as moans spilled from her throat, raw and unrestrained. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment before locking onto his, a wicked glint shining through. “Fuck me, Daddy!” She gasped, her voice thick with lust. “Fuck me until I’m a blonde alpha bitch, baby! Corrupt me fully with that evil cock!”

Zack responded with a growl, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust harder, matching the rhythm of her dirty pleas. The intensity of their union triggered further changes in her body. Her breasts swelled larger, becoming fuller and more voluptuous, straining against her skin with each movement. Her waist cinched tighter, sculpting an even more pronounced hourglass figure that accentuated her dominance. Her hair, shimmered and thickened, cascading in glossy waves of platinum blonde that framed her face like a crown, the transformation completing her into the alpha bitch she craved to be.

She arched her back, moaning loudly, her hands groping at her new big tits as she rode the waves of pleasure, her words growing more fervent. “Yes, Daddy, harder! Turn me into your perfect wicked queen! Destroy the loser Alex and make me into the slutty Lexi!” The room pulsed with their heat, her body and mind fully embracing the power and pleasure of her new identity.

The rhythm between Alex and Zack built to a fever pitch, their bodies moving in perfect sync as the pleasure reached its peak. With a shared, primal cry, they climaxed together, the orgasm crashing over them like a tidal wave. Alex’s moans mingled with Zack’s groans, her body trembling as the intensity consumed her.

As the waves of ecstasy pulsed through her, she felt the last fragile remnants of the timid, nerdy girl who once sought to save him be wiped away entirely. The final traces of that weak, caring self dissolved, erased by the flood of power and pleasure, leaving only Lexi, the blonde alpha bitch, reigning supreme in her new, untainted form. Her kind brown eyes melted away and formed into cold, icy blue eyes, her lips curling into a wicked smile as she reveled in the completeness of her transformation.

Her joy was interrupted moments later when Madison burst through the apartment door, her heels clicking with purpose, getting sick of waiting for Zack to come to her. She expected to find him alone but instead her eyes widened in horror as she stumbled upon Lexi laying astride her man like a slutty cowgirl, the air thick with the aftermath of their explosive climax.

Lexi’s platinum blonde hair cascaded wildly over her shoulders, her brilliant blue eyes gleaming with a sadistic edge as she savored the last shudders of her orgasm, her transformed body on full, arrogant display.

“You cheating bastard!” Madison shrieked, her voice quaking with fury as she pointed at Zack. “Cheating on me with this filthy whore?!” Her rage turned venomous as she glared at Lexi.

Lexi rolled her eyes, her patience obliterated by Madison’s insolence. With a predator’s grace, she slid off Zack, her flawless skin radiating a menacing allure as she rose, unfazed. She strode toward Madison with deliberate calm, her glossy nails glinting like weapons, her hips swaying with a cruel confidence that promised retribution.

Madison’s tirade continued, her insults growing more frantic. “Who do you think you are? I’m going to make sure you’re black listed across all of—”. Madison’s venom was cut short by a swift hand from Lexi, delivering a vicious slap across her face.

Zack, still sprawled on the bed, watched with rapt attention, his cock hardening visibly, a dark thrill coursing through him at Lexi’s brutality. His breath quickened, his eyes burning with arousal as he took in her commanding cruelty.

Lexi loomed over Madison, her lips curling into a sneer so cold it could freeze fire. “Let me guess, after you first hooked up you saw what the power of his cock could do when you gave him a simple handjob. It brought out the bitch in you, but you wanted more.” Lexi said as she circled Madison like a vulture.

“You ached for the power his cock could give you. That's why you came over here, why you're dressed so slutty. Well tough shit bitch, it's mine now. You’re a pathetic wannabe queen.” She hissed, her voice a blade of ice and venom. “A worthless placeholder, a little toy keeping my man entertained until his true queen returned to claim him. Why do you think he never had sex with you? He knew there was better waiting out there for him.” She smirked as she looked over to Zack who's cock was standing at full attention, unable to hide his animalistic attraction to Lexi.

“But now that I’m back, we and this campus, have no use for your existence, Madison.” She leaned in, her tone dripping with sadistic delight. “Zack is mine again, your friends will soon beg me to lead them, your status as queen bee will fit me like a glove. I’m going to strip you of everything you have... including your designer clothes.”

Madison’s eyes widened, terror creeping into her expression as Lexi’s stalked up to her, her gaze fixed on her outfit, a scandalously sexy, black latex two piece that hugged her curves, the top barely hiding her tits and at the same time exposing her navel, paired with thigh-high stiletto boots that screamed dominance. “Take it off.” Lexi commanded, her voice a whip crack of authority. “My man and I have a party to dominate, and I want that slutty little outfit.”

Madison’s hands shook, her defiance crumbling under Lexi’s merciless stare. She hesitated, tears welling, but the threat in Lexi’s eyes was undeniable. With a choked sob, she peeled off the two pieces and kicked off the boots, the revealing latex falling to the floor as she stood naked, her dignity shattered.

Lexi snatched the outfit with a triumphant, cruel laugh and slipped into it, the fabric stretching obscenely tight over her transformed body. The pieces clung to her like a second skin, the top straining to contain her larger breasts, pushing them up into a breathtaking display of cleavage, the hem riding so high it exposed the curve of her ass.

She adjusted the stiletto boots, the heels elongating her legs into a vision of lethal elegance. She ran her hands over her hips, admiring the tightness, the way it accentuated her bigger breasts and tighter waist, her platinum hair and blue eyes completing the image of a ruthless, irresistible queen.

Zack’s gaze was riveted, his arousal palpable as he groaned, “Holy fuck, Lexi, you’re a goddamn goddess in that.” Lexi turned to him, her smirk widening with sadistic pride, then cast a final, withering glance at Madison. “You can stay here loser and sniff our sheets, me and my man have a party to rule over.” She spat, her voice dripping with contempt. “But if you're still here when we're back later you're going to wish you weren't. Come on babe.”

Lexi strode out without another glance at Madison who was shivering in her underwear. Zack quickly threw on a shirt and raced after his new old paramour. His cock now twitched when he even thought of her. It felt as though it were a homing missile that would always find her. Little did either of them know that the magic cock wasn't a King maker, in reality it was a Queen maker and Lexi's reign was just beginning.

[yoonlyhan]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ in which itoshi rin plays a horror game on roblox and ends up teaming up with a loud owl on voice chat

itoshi rin saw a recommendation online about a popular horror game on roblox. the comments vouch for the post saying that it made them piss their pants playing it or saying that not even a minute of playing it is that the game was already scary.

the younger itoshi was convinced on playing it to pass time.

rin doesn't have a roblox account but he immediately installed it and create an account. he typed the name of the game on the search bar and joined the game.

there was a lobby where you can enter the game by going to a space as a two player, three players, four players, or eight players. rin searched for the singular player mode but it turns out there was no such thing due to the game being so scary that the players needed a buddy to play.

rin thought it was a ridiculous reason.

he ended up controlling his character to the space where 2 players can only play the game.

1/2 players

rin decided to wait until the timer runs out so he can play the game by himself and see if it was worth installing the game.

the timer was already 3 seconds left when a character of a literal owl jumps in to the space beside him. he furrowed at it and when he was about to walk away from the space to avoid joining with someone, his screen appeared with the loading screen.

2/2 players

rin didn't liked having someone with him while he plays so he decided to ignore the other player. but what he didn't expect is that the owl had a voice chat on. so did rin but he was already muted and was not even thinking on communicating with the other player.

“hello! are you there?” a high pitched voice was heard in his ears.

the owl was circling at his bacon avatar as the girl talks to him.

“hello? sir, uh... rin? is that your real name?”

“this game is scary, it's so dark!”

“i heard there was a monster that pops every now and then. i saw it on tiktok.”

when the game signals that the players can start playing. he didn't hesitate to move forward. rin didn't rotate his screen to look behind him but he heard the grass move from behind, signaling that the owl is following him.

“hold hold! i think i saw someone behind that tree!” she shouts again but rin ignored her and focused on the objectives.

the graphics was indeed realistic and scary. there was jumpscare every now and then and there was a moment where someone was chasing them. it was satisfying for rin but he would always pursed his lips when he would hear the girl scream.

it was even unbelievable that she survived halfway of the game.

rin had to admit the she was great in running and escaping the monsters. but she is one hella damn annoying teammate of his.

there were many times when rin was urged to unmute only to tell her to shut up but he didn't and continued playing. rin also took notice that the girl knows he had voice chat umute on purpose and that rin could hear her and indeed listening to all of her whines.

rin, however, had the choice to unmute her and continue a silent game without her loud screams. but he didn't.

it is slightly amusing hearing her screams whenever they encounter a monster.

“bro, you are carrying me! have you played this game before?”

the owl continued to jumped in front of him while rin's character only stood still while waiting for the clock to strike 3am.

“i thought i'd die a long time ago, you know? it's amazing that i'm able to see the ending! i'll brag about this to my friends.” the girl behind the owl avatar laughed at her self.

but what she didn't know is that she will eventually be taken by a monster.

the last thing rin heard from the owl is her screaming behind him. rin even jumped from how loud she screams and when he turned around, the fallen apart pieces of the owl's avatar is on the floor.

the owl was still on the game though. she was just dead in the game.

rin felt disappointed at the owl and felt the decrease of desire to play the game till the end.

the owl could only chat to him and rin decided to talk to her for the first time through it.

misshoothoot:

NOOOOO

why did i dieeee

so unfair

unfair

i'll kill that monster 👿

rin, u can do it!!! i'll watch from above :⁠,⁠-⁠)

rin_itoshi:

idiot

rin unexpectedly died while he was reading the owl's chat and the monster catched up to him and captured rin. he was even close to the ending but he didn't feel annoyed that he died before reaching the end.

after that, rin clicked on the logo in the upper left part and clicked the add friend button to the owl. the owl immediately accepted rin's friend request.

masterlist ♡

© all written works are created and owned by @yoonlyhan. do not plagiarise or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances. u will be blocked :x

credits to @strangergraphics for the wonderful divider ♡

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

The sun shines on you once again, the past stretching behind you like a shadow. You escape one madman just to begin a search for another.

Tw: Homophobia

[Invincible Variants X Reader]

[Part one]  [Ao3] [14]  [16]

15 * Better If You Don't [5.2k]

"I feel it now,

The ghosts,

Of people who still exist but shouldn't."

Down the Drain - Sewerslvt

        "There's nothing here." He said.

        "But he said-" Tracksuit patted the walls, looking for a cartoon trapdoor on the slick cave walls. They were at a dead end miles and miles away from the central cavern. Every other path they tried re-looped back on themselves or were also dead ends. Maskless knew there couldn't be anything, he had mapped the area himself but was so hopeful, so hungry, he went along with Tracksuit, feeling fruitlessly in the dark. 

        And now he was going to die. Because it was a set-up, Phantom luring them away so he could have his way with you. He was expecting to find the fire dead and the main cavern empty. He couldn't have predicted what he walked into.

        "Jesus Christ." Tracksuit nudged Phantom's bruised ribs with his foot. "Is he alive?"

        The central cave was a wreck, the cots scattered, some floating in the water, others smoldering in the fire pit. But there was also structural damage, deep indents pressed to the floor, a Phantom shaped hole in the wall. 

        A rattling breath followed by a modulated cough told them Phantom was very much still alive. Maskless wasted no time, "What happened?"

        ***

        The cave air grew heavier every time the story was told and re-told to every Mark who turned up. Omni immediately left to scour the wastes for Scars and Lensless. Mohawk and Gray weren't far behind. Leaving Maskless and Tracksuit alone with Phantom who'd dragged himself onto a cot. He'd live, would be walking again in a few weeks. Viltrumite bone could knit itself together without medicine. Still, Maskless did his best to set the bone right and wrap it. He'd prefer Gray do the deed, but he was gone so fast there was no chance to ask. 

        Phantom was insistent, desperate, that they leave. Go look for (Y/n). But Tracksuit and Maskless didn't care enough, didn't need you to survive. If anything, the disappearance was a good thing, one less mouth to feed. Tracksuit would miss staring at your ass but it's not like he could change things. You were definitely kidnapped by those freaks and definitely dead. No more suffering, you were better off dead anyways. You got the easy way out while he had to live- one friend down because that's what you were. He pushed the feelings that thought evoked down.

        As dusk came, the trio returned, unsuccessful in finding the duo. So they laid in wait, hoping against reason they'd come to the fireside to gloat or show off your severed head. 

        "Did they also attack the ugly guy?" Tracksuit looked through the porthole, to the starless night sky. "Haven't seen him since earlier."

        Omni turned on Phantom who clutched his purple-ish chest. Never alone long enough to slip away. "Well?"

        "He-" Phantom suppressed a groan. Talking hurt. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt. But he had to sell the lie. "He tried to keep her away when they-"

        "What are we talking about?" Lensless touched down with a smile. Head swiveling, immediately noticing your disappearance. "Is she peeing?"

        Scars descended, landing beside him with a scoff, "Probably out pity fucking that ugly freak."

        The whole room seemed to go packed-gunpowder tight. Omni was in front of them both, hovering off the ground to be inches taller. "Where is she?"

        Lensless blinked. "What?"

        Omni had him by the throat. Veins popping on his forearm with the grip. "What have you done to my wife?" Lensless choked. Both hands coming up to pry his grip away. Gone before he could escape. Omni realized Lensless couldn't answer if he was dead. "Tell me, now."

        Lensless swallowed, cracked his neck, and grinned. He'd been joansing for a good fight out in the wastes and it looked like he was going to get one.

        Though he was curious, "What are you talking about?" He looked past Omni, to the others and their death glares. "Did he go apeshit while we were gone? Aw, wait, shit- did you miss us that much big guy?"

        He ducked under Omni's fist. Laughing as he threw his own punch to Omni's gut. Wondering in the moments before bloody impact, how his blood would look, how it would taste. 

        The blow was blocked by a yellow glove. "Stop, you idiot."

        Lensless looked to find Scars scowling. He considered turning the fight to him. Scars obviously thought he was the better, smarter of the two and Lensless agreed, he was sort of right, but also that he was a dick. A dick that liked the same things he did. Not quite a friend but definitely no enemy. He lowered his fist. 

        "What do you mean 'where is she'?" Scars words made Lensless remember. There was a mystery afoot. You were gone, apparently not out pissing.

        "Don't play dumb, shithead." Mohawk was by his side in a second. "You took (Y/n). Where is she?"

        The realization dawned on Scars. Something heavy and sharp twisted in his gut. A feral need pulsed behind his eyes to find your form but nowhere he looked housed you. Under the surface, he was boiling, yet he laughed in their faces. "You think I kidnapped her and came back to get my ass kicked?" He was sure he could take on most of them but Scars was no fool. He was clearly outnumbered, even with Lensless by his side.

        Mohawk hadn't considered this. It was a... good point but he wouldn't accept it, "You're trying to keep up the routine so no one suspects you or something stupid like that. Yeah?"        

        Lensless furrowed his brow. "We've literally talked about this like a billion times. We were gonna take her, hide out, use her as bait to lure you, kill you, and eat you one by one. We wouldn't be with you lames if we had her- we'd be balls deep in some hole right about now." 

        Scars glared but Lensless didn't see the point in hiding things. Clearly, their plan wasn't happening if you were gone.

        He was too busy grinning at Scars to see the fist coming for his throat. Lensless shot back, rammed into the wall. Broke through rock in a person-shaped hole foot after foot until he decided the pain was enough, it was his turn. He blasted out of the hole, teeth bared happily, fist raised. Omni waited for him but the fist was a feint. Lensless slipped behind the man and grabbed him by that stupid red cape that reminded him so much of dad. Laughed as he spun him round by the neck, stopping when he slung him into a wall. 

        Omni recovered quick, came back strong, "You-"

        "We can't get answers like this." Gray's voice stopped him. Inches away from smashing Lensless's head in. The deed would be done, once he had some answers. He didn't back down. "Our comrade saw you take (Y/n)," Gray gestured to Phantom.  "In the process you either maimed or killed the Viltrumite prisoner."

        Lensless and Scars noticed Phantom wasn't on his feet or in the air waiting to attack, but hadn't seen the sorry state he was in. Now they watched like predators, peering over Omni's broad shoulders. 

        "If I attacked that one, he'd be dead." Scars says. 

        "Well, he's not." Omni growled. "You failed in your assassination attempt."

        "Assassination what?" Lensless zipped around him, got close to Phantom as he could before Gray was in front of him. 

        "You've done enough damage," Gray says.

        Lensless tried to peek around him, but Gray kept moving in his line of sight. He only saw Phantom's condition through momentary glimpses. "Uhm, yeah, I didn't do that. Did you, dude?" 

        "No."

        Phantom rose off the cot, aching and groaning but managed to balance in the air above it.

        "Stop lying." He huffed, holding his pulsing ribs, "I heard your voices before you came up behind us. I saw you kill him and take her." He came forward, just behind Gray. Weak but needing to sell the act that he was willing to fight for revenge, for you, wrongfully taken. 

        A smile broke out across Scar's cheeks. Stretching that old wound he liked so much. "Yer lyin' through your teeth." He laughed, once, twice, before it was a full blown belly-clutching fit that infected Lensless. Phantom bristled but tried not to let it show, this was not the reaction he was expecting. 

        Not stopping until Omni asked, "What's so funny?"

        "You actually believe him?" Scars wheezed, shoulders still hitching. 

        "Has he threatened her the entire time we've been here?" Omni asked, though they all knew the answer.

        Which made Scars smile stretch impossibly more, though the eye behind the busted lens gleamed with no mirth. Only a boiling, soulless fury. "That's good, man, real smart. You're not a half-bad actor either. One lil critique though-" 

        He was fast. Faster than Gray could turn, could defend, faster than Omni could grab his cape. He had Phantom by the throat with one hand while the other tore off his mask. Showing off his pasty pretty boy face and long hair dad would hate.

         "Look me in the eyes and tell me it was me." Phantom's eyes- slate blue, Nolan blue- slid to Gray who'd come to his rescue, but paused when Scars didn't immediately rip Phantom's head off. Restraint wasn't something Gray (or any of them) associated with Scars. It gave their doubt merit.

        Scars hand squeezed around his throat with a growl. "Don't look at them, look at me." 

        He knew the punch was coming. Caught it easily. Phantom was slower than him, even slower with pain. Punishment was immediate, a flex of Scars' hand around Phantom's. The crack of thin bones. Phantom writhed, kicked, thrashed in his grip but Phantom was a limb down and weaker, way weaker than Scars. 

        "The longer you make me wait, the more of you I'm going to break." Scars said. He saw it then, the beady glint of truth in Phantom's eyes. That burning malice Scars wore on his sleeve, hidden behind Phantom's mask and silence.

        Phantom snarled, tried to headbutt him, but was again, too slow. The sound replaced with the wet snap of Phantoms forearm, bone jutting out through kevlar.

        "You-!" He caught a flash of the others, hovering behind Scars. Wondering. Untrusting. He knew he should've built better interpersonal relations. 

        "Aaannd that's time, onto your left." Scars grabbed his good arm, the one beating against his chest. Was poised to snap it clean off when a foot to his ribs send him careening off.

        Scars hit the wall while Phantom hit the ground, scrambling for his mask. To not be naked and under so many judging eyes. He could lie with the mask on, but without it he was unsure. Things were always so much easier through a barrier of fabric.

        It was about time the others realized, lying or not, Phantom was the last of them to see (Y/n) alive. 

        "Enough," Omni said over the two. "I don't care who did what. Where is my wife?"

        "I don't know." Scars and Phantom both said. Scars rose from the rubble, muscles flexing, properly pissed because hadn't these idiots figured it out by now? He wouldn't pussyfoot kidnapping (Y/n). He'd have fucked her on the cave floor and left their bloody, combined juices as a calling card. 

        "Wait." Lensless counted off on his fingers. He'd been separated from the camp for some time but he still had the chore rotation memorized. Always counting down to when he could be alone with you. "Wasn't it your turn to watch her today?" 

        Attention turned to Maskless who had already been considering fucking off before this got any worse. He wasn't scared per se, but blame could technically fall on him for Phantom getting jumped.

        Better him than me, he thought but said, "He told me he found food." Finger pointed to Tracksuit.

       Tracksuit burned his brain cells in a space-weed smoke stack daily when not trapped in a wasteland. He never finished school and when he was enrolled, he flunked almost everything. Even gym by pissing off to fuck and smoke behind the bleachers. Him having an intelligent thought was as rare as finding diamonds digging in cow shit. He felt like Einstein when he said, "Wait. Wait. The bald guy told me he found food." He pointed to the cave they'd been in, "So we went to look for food so you," one arm crossed over the other to point at Maskless, "left (Y/n) with him," his hand twisted again, pointing at Phantom, "and while we were out looking for food, all that stuff happened and like... We never found the food the bald guy said was there... So like... You know." 

        "You left!?" Mohawk barked. Ready to pounce at whoever moved first. Angry at everything. At nothing. At the fact that you weren't here. At the fact that you could be dead- again.

        "I left her with him!" Maskless gestured to Phantom. "It's not my fault they attacked!"

        "We didn't." Lensless said. 

        "And why should we believe you!?" Mohawk said.

        "I mean, you shouldn't, but I'm not lying." Lensless replied with a shrug. 

        "So he just beat the shit out of himself?" Mohawk gestured to Phantom, trying to gather himself on the ground.

        "He wasn't alone." Scars said looking to Lensless, "He had a partner. Pretty smart, trying to make it look real but," he cracked his neck, stretched out his arms, "I'd never leave a weakling like him breathing."

        He lunged.

        It was chaos from there. Scars slamming Phantom through layers of rock, breaking into and out of cave systems. Some they'd discovered some not. Omni and Gray raced after them while Lensless and Mohawk shredded the main room apart fighting each other. Leaving Maskless and Tracksuit outside of the action and not particularly looking to be a part of it.

        They shared a look across the freshly bloomed hell, and an alliance was struck. Tracksuit grabbed the rest of the Emperor meat. Maskless grabbed basins and filled them with water. They were gone as Mohawk punched Lensless through the wall, as Scars battered Phantom around, avoiding Omni and Gray's pursuit, ripping apart the caves wall by wall until the whole thing collapsed. 

        Last they checked, days later, and found the ground above the caves had sunken miles down. Everything was gone, filled with dirt. Along with everyone. Leaving Tracksuit and Maskless alone in the desert, thinking it was over, thinking they'd have to kill one another for food once they ran out of Emperor and starting starving. 

        ***

        "That's it? They're all dead then?" You sat by the fire but didn't feel the warmth. 

          It'd been hours since Maskless pulled you out and you re-met with the sun. You were in and out of consciousness as the sun crossed the sky. Sweating for the first time in days while lying still in the sand, Maskless pulling together a makeshift splint. They'd dug themselves out a camp in the concrete ruins of what used to be a skyscraper. All the windows long since smashed out, all the paint peeled away. 

        When you woke up, really woke up, you tried to get them to take you back. Take you to Mark because he needed help. Maskless covered your mouth, let you beat at him while you screamed. You punched and punched and punched and bit and kicked until exhaustion and the truth caught up with you. He didn't have to tell you but you knew. Mark was gone.

        Only when he saw that dreading acceptance cross your face did he let you go. Truce shaky. Both of them were unsure if you'd lash out. You were unsure if you should or shouldn't lash out. You wanted to make them take you back despite the obvious truth you couldn't fully grasp. You didn't see the body. The wound. Whatever that bloody thing in his hand was. You knew you should fight, make them take you but part of you was too cowardly to go back to the cave. Terrified you'd be trapped all over again. So you stayed and listened while they filled you in on the happenings of the last two weeks. Thirteen days, actually, but when Tracksuit corrected you, you looked like you were going to bite his head off.

        The two glanced at one another. Haggard looking with longer hair and growing beards. Tracksuit kept his mask on but the hair poked out the sides. He'd complained of itchiness but made no move to remove it. 

        "Not exactly." Maskless conceded. "The others are around."

        "Yeah and batshit crazy," Tracksuit added. 

        "All of them?"

        "Yes." Maskless said.

        You nodded shallowly. Watched the bugs dig in and out of the sand around your legs. They had followed you up here. Showed up when you were still unconscious, digging up from the sand and chattering quietly. Maskless was confused when you mentioned the nursery. Apparently, there were no other caves except the main one, filling with sand. They'd collapsed, the queen-fed larvae crushed. You were the only thing left that smelled like the old queen's pheromone. The bugs around you now, were the last of the species, the last thing you had to hold onto, the last pieces of Mark. 

        Some of them were de-shelled and boiling in the basin now. At some point, Maskless left to fill the bowl which had been empty for days. The duo apparently took turns while you were out, eating bugs and drinking cave water. They didn't technically need to eat more tonight but they were both still hungry and you had practice making your little friends edible.

        They didn't bring up Mark. Not after your initial outburst. 

        "We split into groups after the big fight. Kinda unanimously decided it'd be better if we all fucked off, you know?" Tracksuit said. "We've been chillin' together. Wonder Boy and that stick-up-the-ass guy are rolling. We run into 'em sometimes, leave each other alone long as we give 'em updates on if we seen you or not. Mohawk dude's on his own but all three of 'em have been lookin' for the others. Wonder Boy said those two shitheads got away. And that other guy..."

        "You agree, right? He should've been here by now."

        Thirteen days in the dark. Thirteen days of isolation, re-traumatization, light deprivation.

        "He's leaving us down here on purpose."

        Phantom never came back. Left you to rot. Left Mark to regress. Left everything to fall apart because Mark was right. He was obsessed just like the others. He who snatched you up after you killed Psychopomp, who hid you away the first night in the desert, who wanted you all to himself with no competition in the way. He gave you a tracker and ignored the emergency alert because that meant Mark was cracking up, fucking up. 

        It was Phantom's fault things had ended up like this.

        "Where is he?" You barely recognize your own voice. It was hoarse, throat raw from earlier screaming. Eyes burned, all cried out. 

        Tracksuit surprised by the intensity, asked, "The School Shooter guy?" Mohawk would be glad the name stuck.

        But you were not calling him that, "Phantom."

        Tracksuit took a hissing breath, hand going to the back of his neck. "Well... Uhm..."

        "Tell m-" Your head bowed as if weighed down by the blood rolling down your nose. Your body telling you to quit while you were ahead. Mark soaked up your power like a bloody, bloody sponge. You still smelled him on you. His blood crusted your tank top brown, dried on your skin and made it itch. 

        You felt like you were trying to walk on a boat, though you were sitting. You leaned back on your palms, trying to retain a shred of dignity. "Tell me." You croaked as the blood ran over your lip.

        Tracksuit hesitated, a little more humane. Maskless didn't care, just wanted the conversation to be over faster. "For a day or two, we didn't know if anyone else was alive. Ended up running into Wonder Boy and his sidekick but not the others. They didn't know either. Wasn't long after that the screaming started."

        "The what?"

        "Ya'know, like... screams of torture?" Tracksuit said like it was nothing. "I'm surprised you didn't hear them." Maskless shot him a look. "Oh, right. It's usually pretty quiet out here but every once in a while this guy screams loud as fuck." 

        Since his partner didn't elaborate, Maskless did, "We think it's Phantom." He felt stupid saying the name but you seemed offended by the other one. 

        "Or he's dead and those goofballs are torturing each other to death?" Tracksuit added helpfully. 

        "The others haven't intervened?" You hope Phantom was still alive. Hoped, prayed to God. You were in dire, thirsting need for revenge.

        Tracksuit shrugged. "Dunno. Every time we see 'em they only ask about you 'n food. I'm sure they know where those two are 'n sometimes it's quiet. Quiet enough you think it's over, then boom another night of distant screaming."

        "What direction is it coming from?"

        Tracksuit spluttered, splayed out his hands. "You stupid? You don't go towards tortured screaming."

        "Mark is..." You can't say it. If you say it, it'll be real. "Everything that happened is his fault."

        "Everything that... Dude, you had it made in the shade! Fuck, if I was you, I wouldn't come back up here for nothin'. Speaking of, why aren't we kickin' it down there right now? Like, what even happened, dude?" He pointed to your wrists, raw from rebar, your cheeks, blooming with bruises, "And where's that bald guy?"

        Maskless elbowed him hard in the ribs. After he'd flown you out, he returned with Tracksuit to eat and drink. By then, the falling sand had buried him completely. He didn't bring up the corpse. Thought it wouldn't help things. Knew his counterpart would be stupid and tactless.

        Thirteen days worth of memories smack you in the face so hard they shake your tearducts into working again. You raised your head, snarling a smile, thin tears streaking your cheeks. "What happened? You want to know what happened?"

        "Uh yeah, that's what I asked." But he didn't sound so confident now. Tracksuit was strong, a killer, uncaring for human and alien life. Nothing scared him, but navigating other's emotions was not a strong suit. He hadn't seen you cry no matter what crazy shit went down, didn't know why you were now. Frankly, he was a little uncomfortable and off-put by the visual as your chest started to shake with hiccuping breaths. If this was your reaction he could only imagine what had happened. "It's just a question, jeez."

        "He fucked us, that's what happened. He knew what would happen. He knew." You were starting to sound like Mark. Days ago, you'd condemn the thought, be annoyed by it but now the anger was like a mother's swaddling comfort. "We were going to work together. Make it without you assholes and he-" You don't know if you were sobbing or laughing. Felt like both. Maybe it was. "Mark was good to me. I think I could've really loved him but I-" Tracksuit leaned forward, thinking oh, this is going to be good. Maskless pulled him back while you wiped your eyes. 

        You couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't go on. "Where is Mark?" You asked Maskless who'd taken you out, who had seen you laid beside him.

        "I buried him." He didn't need to tell you the sand did it for him. He was heartless but not cruel. 

        "That's nice of you man but like, shouldn't we eat him?" Tracksuit was ignored by you both.

        The tears came faster, hotter, running messy down your face, slipping down your nose, getting into your lips. "I want see him."

        "It's..." Maskless blinked and it was suddenly years ago. He was in front of his house, sweet and eighteen. William's car was pulled to the curb, Burger Mart for two waiting in a greasy bag in the passenger seat. Dashboard dinging, driver's side door open. Blood in the street. The neighbors screaming, running into their houses, they didn't know if wouldn't save them. 

        Dad held William by what was left of his narrow neck. The rest of him, mostly skin and some subcutaneous fat, was laid on the lawn. Mom stood in the window, hands over her mouth, tears on her cheeks. 

        "This is who you've been dating this whole time?" Nolan was planning on telling him about the murder of The Guardians soon. Pulling him to the side of Viltrum, but this expedited things. Mark wasn't supposed to be keeping secrets from him, not like this. 

        He knew Mark was a soft, funny boy by Viltrumite standards. He'd told him and Debbie months ago he thought he liked boys. Nolan could excuse it. On Viltrum, romance wasn't a thing. Unneeded. The only coupling that occurred was heterosexual for the sake of procreation. It was a foreign Earthly concept, but one he thought inconsequential. Debbie said it could be a phase, many teenagers went through them. Nolan thought he'd get a girlfriend eventually, settle down, and forget about that unproductive nonsense. Give him grandbabies that'd fight for the Viltrum Empire.

        But no. 

        He'd been dating that wispy, waste of oxygen for years behind Nolan's back. Today he'd come with flowers and a cheap drug store 'Happy Anniversary' card while Nolan was leaving the house. He was too slow to hide it, simple and human. He had tried to backtrack, lie and say it was for his girlfriend, but Nolan knew what William was. Still, Nolan beat the truth out of him. Then tore him in half for what he'd done to his son- for holding him back and making him soft even by human standards. 

        Mark threw himself at his father who let William's skinless, twitching body drop- splat- to the street. Dad won. Beat his face half in. He thought he was dead, the last thing on his mind William's puddle of a body. But his Viltrumite body wouldn't let that happen, he could come back from almost anything- as long as his heart was intact. Broken as his was. 

        In the time he was healing, the Earth was overtaken. Everything he'd known gone. Burnt and torn in the resistance. He was forced to join the empire, enforce Viltrum's rule on Earth. When Angstrom came along and offered him a way out he took it without question. 

        His eyes opened. William was dead. The planet was not cured of the Viltrum cancer. He was sitting across from some girl who was in his seventh grade science class and was crying about a bald, dead version of himself. And he thought God had a sick sense of humor.

        "...It's better if you don't." He finished.

        Your stomach churned. It was bad. Oh God, it was bad. It had hurt. He was dead and dying hurt the whole time. He didn't want to do it. He wanted to keep you safe in his twisted way and you made him do it. You killed him. Not just snap his neck or bite off his tongue but something so gruesome someone like Maskless was trying to hide it from you.

        Your hands pressed to your eyes so hard you saw stars. You couldn't stop crying.

        Tracksuit was very uncomfortable and wanted the sound to stop. He took a shot at comfort, overrated as he thought it was, "Hey, uhm. I'd kill his crazy ass if I was stuck in a cave with him too. I totally get it. You did the right thing."

        Maskless considered punching him in the throat. You only cried harder. There was no comfort or solace offered after that, but at least they let you grieve in silence.

        ***

        You don't know when you slept, only that you woke up to blistering heat even in the building's shade. Tracksuit leaned in the doorway to the desert, watching you stand and lean hard on one leg. "Took you long enough."

        You ignored him, sitting up and stretching on your own time. You saw Maskless not far behind him, also watching. Waiting for you as well. He walked over, reaching out to offer you a piece of rebar he bent to act as a crutch. 

        "The others will want to see you." He dropped the scrappy, stitched cave map at your side. They'd gone back to the main cave in the days after and found nothing but the map and stalactite stools. You'd been wearing the soldier pants and tank top when they found you, no sign of your armor or chest plate. "We might be flying awhile. You'll need to cover up from the sun."

        You didn't answer, took the cane and the fabric.

        "Wha- Hey, that's my hammock!" Tracksuit cried as you wrapped it around your head and shoulders. 

        "You'll live," Maskless said, gathering up some things before stepping out the pit and hovering above the dunes. "Come on."

        Tracksuit clicked his tongue. Wordlessly given the chore of carrying you along. He scooped you up, one bicep under your knees, the other supporting your back. You clung to him, numb and dry eyed. You could fight but you don't. Just let it happen, hot wind whipping at your face as you thought about Mark under the sand. Thought about revenge. Omni and Gray had information on Phantom, you didn't care about anything else. The trip felt short with your brooding, the wind slowing as Tracksuit lowered to the dunes. 

        You should've known it'd be a tent. Bigger than the first with more supports. Trash woven roof flattering in the sandy wind Tracksuit kicked up as he landed. "Knock, knock."

[syndrossi]

Regret AU, Part One

All in the name of procrastination...

x~x~x

“Mama!” little Raymar wailed. “Mama!”

The toddler was clinging to Rhea’s leg, utterly disconsolate as the twins’ new nurse tried to part him from her. The other child, Jon, who had caught her sleeve in his tiny fists after she set him down, was also refusing to let go, his sobs barely audible above the cries of his brother.

Rhea seemed frozen in place, her expression one of a woman half-numbed by grief.

“Can they not remain with you?” Willam asked, heart aching for the two young orphans. They see their mother in her. Surely House Redfort would raise no objections to them being fostered here instead.

“No,” she said, her voice hoarse as she tore her gaze from the toddlers at her feet. “They cannot.”

She had offered her explanation to him earlier, that she did not want her nephews to suffer her husband’s cruelty, were he to inflict himself upon Runestone once more. But Daemon Targaryen had made it clear long ago that he had no intention of honoring his marital bonds. No power save the king himself could force him here, and even then, it never lasted for more than a few moons.

Willam could not complain. The prince was sullen and ill-tempered during those stays, and spent most of his time in town, drinking himself sick and pissing drunkenly on the castle walls as he waited to be let back in. Surely the boys could be kept out of his way during those visits.

“My lady—”

“I have made my decision!” she snapped. “It is not yours to question.”

Raymar’s screams reached earsplitting volume as their nurse finally succeeded in extricating him from Rhea, the word mama barely discernible within them. Willam steeled his heart, then picked up the boy’s brother, gently prying his fists open so that Rhea could pull herself free.

But she did not move at first, her jaw clenched tightly while her throat worked, as though trying to prepare some words of comfort for the child. Finally, she turned away, steps echoing as she fled her own Great Hall. Willam was left with the dark-haired toddler in his arms, whimpering as he watched his aunt disappear through the doors.

Perhaps there is another reason, he thought to himself. Perhaps they remind her both of what she has lost and what she will never have.

“I am sorry,” Willam said, adjusting his grip so that the child’s head was resting against his chest. He swayed side to side, as he had seen nurses do, hoping it might bring his little cousin some comfort. “You will get to meet your cousin Allard soon, and your brothers will have been sent word. They will await you at the Gates of the Moon.”

He did not know how much the child, barely more than two years of age, understood. The shake of his sobs had subsided a little, and Jon turned his head to gaze up at Willam, his grey eyes dark with tears. “I want my papa.”

Willam exhaled, beginning to understand just how greatly this journey would tax his own spirit. “I am not your papa, but I will protect you, I swear it.”

Jon’s mouth quivered, his head sagging back down into Willam’s chest. “I want my mama.”

“She and your father are with the gods now, little one,” Willam said, only for the child to shake his head in denial. He looked to the servant’s door, where Raymar had been taken by the nurse, his screams muffled by the wall. “Let us go get your brother.”

x~x~x

Willam learned a great deal about toddlers in a very short time. They did not drink milk from the breast anymore, and although his twin cousins handled a fork quite well for their size, it came with some mess. Their nurse, Lora, seemed surprised that they were capable of not soiling themselves. Both boys let them know when the wagon needed to stop.

Their emotions were wild and tempestuous, all the moreso for the unthinkable loss they had suffered. In the light of day, with sufficient distractions, the children kept in reasonable spirits. The sight of a cow in the distance, or a raven overhead, or a colorful flower—all of it was enthralling. Willam had bared just about every piece of his armor for them to explore, though he kept all things sharp well out of their reach after he had come back from relieving himself to find them playing with his dagger, which had somehow been parted from its sheath.

It was usually later in the day when they grew wild and cranky. Lora had suggested stopping for a nap during midday, and though Willam had initially scoffed at the notion as it would extend their journey by at least two days, he was beginning to reconsider.

The twins were nigh inconsolable at night, clamoring for their mama. Despite Lora’s best efforts, they spurned her entirely during those hours. Instead, it was Willam who had to hold them one at a time, rocking each child in his arms until he nodded off at last and could be set upon the twins’ bedroll. There was no separating them during sleep, he had found.

“Sōvion!” Raymar said, eyes bright with delight as a butterfly came to rest upon the wagon.

“Butterfly,” Willam corrected, uncertain what the toddler had been trying to say instead.

Jon repeated him with a giggle, seeming to find the word quite amusing.

“Sōvion,” Raymar insisted with a frown.

“It is Valyrian, I think,” Lora said.

A fresh pang struck Willam at yet more evidence of how much the twins had been treasured by their parents. That they had been loved was apparent in their grief, but Elys had always had a gift for language. He could easily imagine his cousin trying to pass that along to her sons.

“Come along,” he said gruffly. “It is time we break camp.”

The twins were quite taken with the horses, begging to see them, so Lora took turns holding them in the front, beside Jorge, while Willam looked after the other. Currently, that was Raymar, who was very concerned now with Willam’s lack of vocabulary and was teaching him the Valyrian for nearly everything he pointed at.

Willam assumed so, anyway. He wouldn’t know Valyrian from toddler babble.

The game lost its luster eventually, and the child leaned into his side with the same hunger for comfort both had displayed since arriving at Runestone. Willam hooked his arm around the toddler and gently stroked his hair, recalling when his mother had done so long ago. It was soft but thick, and shoulder-length like his brother’s. Lighter, though; a strangely muddied dark blond that could in fact, Willam admitted, be partly dust from two days on the road. His eyes were stranger still; at first, Willam had thought them to be an unusual shade of blue, but in daylight, they were unmistakably violet.

The puzzle of it occupied him for a time. Gulltown was not an unusual destination for merchants from Lys, which had noble houses of its own. Perhaps there was a match somewhere in House Redfort’s history, since he knew there had been no such union within his own house.

He passed a sleepy Raymar off to Lora, and Jon decided that he preferred Willam’s lap for a seat instead. They played guessing games as shapes appeared on the road ahead: tree, wagon, horse, tower. Jon’s vocabulary was equally impressive, though he spared Willam another Valyrian lesson, and it served to ease Willam’s own mind. The Red Road was well patrolled in late spring, when ships crammed into Gulltown’s port, and all along the Trident. He did not expect bandits to harry them, but he remained vigilant.

The children had been well-behaved enough that when they stopped at a stream to water the horses, Willam was entirely unprepared for both toddlers to take off running toward it. He just barely caught up with them at the edge of the water to scoop them up in either arm, heart pounding so loudly he thought it would echo in his breastplate.

“You mustn’t go near the water unless I am there,” he said, and although he tried to keep the sharpness from his voice, they stared at him as though he had struck them instead.

“It is hot,” Jon said sorrowfully, which was true enough. For late spring, it felt like a summer’s day, and the afternoon sun and dust from the road had made even the shaded interior of the wagon oppressive.

Willam glanced at the flowing water of the stream. It was fairly shallow where they had stopped, its flow slowing as the winter snowmelt from the distant mountains that fed it shrank. Still enough to carry a toddler away, though. He helped them down, taking each by the hand and walked with them along the banks until they reached a small pool that had been fed by the stream during its more vigorous flow earlier in the season.

The water was cool, but not as cold as the snow-fed stream. “You may play here,” he said. “But only at the water’s edge.”

The moment he granted his permission, they slipped free, shrieking with delight as their feet hit the water. He had meant to strip them first, but it was too late now. Both were knee-deep in water, slapping at the water’s surface. Lora had caught up to them and he caught her eye.

“We shall need dry clothing,” he said. “I will watch them.”

Given their comfort, the children had clearly spent time in water before. Enough so that he had to gently catch Raymar by the toe when he started floating on his back and drifting. They were thoroughly soaked by the end, and covered in the mud they decided to play in at the pool’s edge. Lora shot him an unimpressed look when she returned with the change of clothes.

Willam gave her an abashed smile. “I will wash them off in the stream.”

Jon’s rinse came first, while Lora watched Raymar. He tried to splash Willam a few times, and the dash of water was pleasant in the overbearing heat. By the time he had finished, his boots were sodden and his pants wet up to the thigh, but he triumphantly handed his squirming charge to Lora to be dried and dressed.

Raymar was next, and he was so filthy that the water continued to run brown even after all visible streaks of mud had been cleaned off. Definitely dust from the road, Willam thought, marveling at how much brown ran off as he scrubbed Raymar’s hair with his fingers.

But it kept going, taking not just brown with it but the dark edge to the blond, and beyond even that. By the time the water ran clear, Raymar’s hair was nearly snow-pale. The toddler smiled shyly at him, purple eyes bright in the sunlight, and Willam stared back in horror.

His earlier musings about distant Lysene blood in House Redfort’s past seemed utterly absurd, the truth so obvious that he cursed himself for a fool for not realizing before.

That is Daemon Targaryen’s child.

The strange discoloration of his hair had not been dirt, but rather the uneven streaking of dye slowly washing away from sweat. And there were but three people who could have willfully sought to hide the child’s heritage with dye: Elys and her husband, or Rhea.

Treason, he thought numbly. The reason for Rhea’s refusal to foster the children in Runestone was laughably plain. If Daemon Targaryen were to return, he would recognize them instantly.

But why? For what reason would either of his cousins seek to hide them away? Why had Corwyn Redfort agreed to the scheme, knowing as he must have that they were not his own?

Are they even Elys’s sons? Rhea had seemed a woman broken by their tears. Had that been the reaction of an aunt mourning the loss of her sister, hurting for her nephews? Or a woman who had hidden her sons in plain sight, but was now forced to send them far from her side?

Willam found himself praying desperately to the gods, old and new, that they were Daemon Targaryen’s natural sons. Bastard or not, concealing them was treason, but if they were instead Rhea’s—

It could be a death blow to their house—and to House Redfort, if they had knowingly participated in the scheme. The king may be merciful, but Prince Daemon most assuredly will be out for blood.

“I’m cold,” Raymar said, shivering now that he was out of the water.

Willam took a lock of his hair in hand, angling it in the light, but it did not matter. No scattering of sunlight upon it could chase away that damning silver.

Then he remembered himself, hoisting the boy up in his arms and holding him against his chest to shield him from the breeze. He simply held him, thoughts roiling, until Lora returned with his clothes, her steps slowing as she too beheld the unequivocal evidence of House Royce’s treason.

Raymar shifted in his arms, looking up at Willam with uncertainty, as though he could sense that something was wrong. He forced a smile. “Let us get you warmed up and dressed.” For added distraction, he pointed up at the sky. “What is the word for cloud?”

“Sambar,” Raymar said, watching him expectantly until Willam repeated the word.

Lora took the child then, toweling him dry, head to toe, then helping him into his dry clothes. “What are we to do, Ser Willam?” she asked him quietly.

Honor demanded that he return House Targaryen’s children, no matter that they were Royce as well. They have a father. That was what troubled him the most. They have lost everything, but they have a father, and yet Rhea was determined to send them to live as orphaned wards.

Prince Daemon was no prize as a husband. He was vain, selfish, and happily indulged in vice when boredom struck. He might even have dishonored Rhea with her own sister. But to not even allow him a chance to know fatherhood—

“We make for Gulltown,” he said at last. It was the nearest rookery. “From there...I do not know.”

[popp1n]

Ghosting the Government

Chap 1: A Not-so-Ghostly Getaway

PT 3

The initial adrenaline of the outpost encounter slowly bled out, replaced by a dull hum of unease. Jazz kept her speed steady, just a hair under the limit, watching the rearview mirror like a hawk for any tell-tale signs of pursuit. Inside the van, the atmosphere was a mix of quiet tension and calculated planning. Danny and Sam had settled back into their "sleeping" positions whenever a car approached, a practiced ease to their stillness.

"Anyone else getting hungry?" Sam mumbled, finally breaking the silence a good half-hour later. Without waiting for an answer, she began rummaging through the cooler in the back, a rustle of bags and a soft clinking of cans. Soon, she was handing out an assortment of chips, granola bars, and juice boxes. The mundane act of eating provided a small, welcome distraction.

Another two hours and forty-five minutes crawled by before the gas light flickered on, a silent cue. Jazz spotted a brightly lit truck stop a few miles ahead, a sprawling oasis of neon signs and late-night travelers. She pulled in slowly, parking near the far end of the lot, away from the main flow of traffic.

"Alright, operation 'find the bug' is a go," Jazz announced, grabbing the keys. Danny and Tucker were already out of their seats, moving with purpose. Sam, ever practical, pulled out a small, high-powered flashlight.

They fanned out around the van, Jazz opening the hood as a diversion, while Danny and Tucker knelt down, peering underneath with the flashlight. It didn't take long. "Gotcha!" Tucker hissed, his voice a low, triumphant whisper.

Tucked discreetly into the wheel well, almost camouflaged against the dark undercarriage, was a small, oblong device. It was about the size of a thumb drive, sleek and black, with a slightly textured surface. A tiny, almost imperceptible red light pulsed faintly, indicating its active status. Two strong magnetic strips were clearly visible on one side, allowing it to adhere firmly to the metal. There were no visible wires or antennae, just a seamless, self-contained unit designed for stealth and durability. Danny carefully nudged it with a gloved finger, confirming its magnetic grip.

"Looks like a standard GIW model," Tucker murmured, pulling out a specialized scanner. "Encrypted, but nothing we can't handle... later."

They left it in place, as agreed, a silent passenger in their otherwise quiet escape, waiting for the perfect moment to sever their invisible tether.

Having found the tracker, they pulled the car up to a pump and ensued standard gas station activities; pumping gas, buying snacks, and using the restroom while they had the time.

Once they were all piled back into the car and back on the road, everyone besides Jazz, who was still driving, checked the weather forecasts and locations they could dispose of the tiny infernal, intrusive device.

"Weather for the next couple hours is clear." Sam said, mildly disappointed. "There are car washes along our route, but...." Tucker trailed off.

"What's up, man?" Danny asked twisting to face the other boy. Tucker sighed, "The car isn't in need of a wash, and the GIW would be aware of that."

Danny smiled, "So let's make a reason! Sam, do you know of any off-road or scenic routes on our way?"

"Well, there is a national park a few hours ahead. Would that work?" She replied, searching through 2F maps. Over the past couple of years, Tucker had started naming his projects under the umbrella term of Too-Fine or 2F.

"Perfect," Danny answered, unclipping Jazz’s phone from the holder and adding the park to the route, "Let's get this car dirty."

<Prev | Next>

[ablobwhowrites]

I also love the dragon y/n idea! currently what’s going through my head in that our true form grew over time, so when we met the uncorrupted-beasts we were only the size of a three story house, but in present time we’re like—taller than the Spire of Knowledge give or take a few hundred feet. if we were close friends with the pre-beasts, I can see us being friends with the Fount of Knowledge because it’s said dragons have been around before cookies so he’s both learning from them and they have a friend to listen to since they’re kind of an outcast and they’re just buddies. We know the others as well but Shadow Milk was the one we could just pick up by the scruff and he wouldn’t even complain. The other immortals find it funny, even. Then comes their corruption, and while trying to keep normal cookies safe, we gain lots of wounds that make us slow down. Less energetic. Kind of hurt that even newly evil they barely hesitated to bring harm. Even worse if we mourn them when they are sealed. we probably become friends with Elder Fairy while still young and waiting out on the hope that our cookie friends will gain reason again. They don’t, and time passes until we finally decide to leave with the acceptance of having to know their dear friends have changed for the worse.

then, dragon y/n meets the ancients. Heart squeezing at the similarities of their old companions. Seeing them, in time, as their most precious cookie family. Picking them all up like kittens when forcing them to rest. Protecting Dark Cacao Cookie’s kingdom from harsh colds when running a fever or when things get especially harsh. Tucking them under a wing while resting. Old scars on our giant dragon heart finally heal at some point, and we make ourselves a cookie form just to see the ancients easier. The ancients love their dragon companion just as much. PV tries to heal eons old wounds near the joints and soft spots like the neck or wings. White Lily will just sit in our palm as we think about the past, always there. Hollyberry attempts to beat us in an eating competition. Golden Cheese adorns us in the newest fashion trends. Dark Cacao will protect us by staying awake when we rest if on a journey. sorry if this is too long, but dragon y/n is such a fun concept!

I'm becoming obsessed with dragon y/n cookie cause I imagine when they where still young, they acted similar to toothless from the first movie as dragon y/n was mostly curious about the world and before the beasts corrupted. I do imagine them being best friends as mainly, I imagine that y/n's dragon form was kinda small but still bigger than the average cookies. Dragon y/n and the uncorrupted beast use to hangout about everyday as y/n liked how they didn't treat them as some vile beast that caused chaos but more of a cookie who just happens to be a dragon, burning spice cookie and dragon y/n use to play fight a lot and shadow milk cookie always got worried because how much damage they did around the place when they did play fight. Mystic flour cookie liked having y/n around as they enjoyed the quiet company and that she got to have alone time cause cookies were to afraid to go near dragon y/n at the time, eternal sugar cookie love to fly with dragon y/n or just lay down on the grass taking in the sun and peacefulness of the place and her paradise. Silent salt cookie listened to dragon y/n cry sometimes as they wished sometimes to be a normal cookie so they could be with their lover but silent salt cookie comforted them as silent salt cookies wished to take away their pain yet they couldn't.

Plus I like to think that many cookies that y/n had protected back then gives them gifts and such but now no cookie really does as they think dragon y/n cookie is a myth by older cookies but I do imagine when when Golden cheese cookie adorns y/n with jewels or other things, they like keeping the jewels and newest fashions that she gives them in their cave to keep them safe.

(also kinda thought of this while writing)

*Cookies from Hollyberry kingdom gives dragon y/n a small gift as a tribute for protecting the kingdom*

Civilian cookie: "I know that we can't do much for you but I wish to give you the finest glasses of berry juice in my shop."

Dragon y/n cookie: "oh, why thank you, I haven't been given a tribute gift is decades."

(y/n will probably drink them back at their den but save the rest because it would be a wasted gift to just drink them all)

And when current dragon y/n is guarding the dark cacao kingdom, I like to imagine just some cookie staying around y/n because how much heat they produce as well as under the wing, it's bascially the warmth nice house underneath their wing (and also because y/n produces fire and stuff and sunbathes a lot so they soak up a lot of sun and heat.)

But y/n does visit the place their old friends stay sealed away and stay there for hours wondering if they could have changed the outcome and kept them from corrupting but they are comforted by Elder fairy cookie until they eventually leave. Also loving the thought of dragon y/n cookie being able to produce these kinds of low rumbling purrs in cookie and dragon form and y/n can't control it so if y/n has nay positive interactions, they just purr really loudly and they do try to say it's their hungry and it's their stomach but of course that doesn't work and the cookies love hearing that sound as it's soothing but y/n is so fucking embarrassed about it as the other dragons I imagine do that to but have control over it. They are just starved of love and affection a lot because cookies from the past saw them as a monster and didn't want to be near them.

The little cookies think it's so cool like they sometimes think dragon y/n is part cat cause of this but the adult cookies love hearing it but dragon y/n tries to lock in to stop it. Also I imagine because y/n's dragon form is huge, they just have to pick up cookies or any traveling vehicles with their mouth kinda like a alligator.

Plus for some yandere ovensmash and ovenbreak. I love to imagine string cheese cookie always trying to keep dragon y/n cookie's hair nice and neat but dragon y/n cookie sees such a nice pile of grass and can't resist on just laying in the and rolling in it (like toothless in that one scene) and is forced to sit in a chair and have their hair washed and cleaned because their grass in their hair. Also I love the thought of Dj cookie wanting dragon y/n to go to one of their concerts but y/n doesn't like how loud concerts can get so unfortunately Dj cookie can't show y/n the special song they made for them.

(anyways that's it for my yapping session for today. But if you like it please don't be shy and request any ideas for stories or y/n's. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[biscuits-and-gracie]

I Can Fix Him (no really, I can)

summary: no really, i can characters: rafe cameron. reader warnings: mentions of violence, weapons, and smoking word count: 1.1k

Everyone on the island knew her.

She was the kind of girl who carried sunshine in her smile, even on the grayest days. Her voice was honey-warm, smooth, and sweet-and when she laughed, it was like the soft chime of bells that made people stop and listen. Not because it was loud or attention-seeking, but because it was pure and genuine, the kind of laugh that made the world feel lighter for a moment. She wore sundresses with small floral prints that fluttered in the ocean breeze, and in the summer heat, she smelled faintly of coconut lotion and lavender- a scent so soothing it felt like a balm to anyone’s rough edges.

She sat on her porch swing in the evenings, waving at strangers passing by on dusty roads, offering homemade blueberry muffins to neighbors without reason or request, simply because she believed kindness was a language everyone deserved to hear. Her eyes were soft pools of light, bright with hope, and the kind of warmth that could melt the coldest heart.

She was, simply put, the sweetest soul on the island.

And everyone knew Rafe Cameron, too.

He was a different kind of flame entirely.

The boy with a temper like a matchstick in a dry forest- quick, dangerous, and always threatening to burn everything around him. There was a permanent curl of smoke lazily drifting from his lips, like a freight train tearing through a small town, marking his presence with a haze that clung to the air long after he’d gone. His eyes were wild, untamed, like they had seen too much or maybe just never learned how to settle. There was something magnetic about him- a raw, untethered energy that crackled in the spaces he occupied.

He wore chaos like cologne, bold and intoxicating. He didn’t care what anyone thought, except maybe her.

Rafe was fast hands that could soothe or strike, slurred words that sometimes cut deeper than any fist, knuckles rough and stained, and a devilish grin that promised trouble. A walking car crash- beautiful and burning and bound to destroy something precious if you got too close.

So when she walked into the Island Club one sultry summer night, glowing like the first light of dawn breaking over the ocean, and her arms wrapped around him like she was holding the sun itself- the whispers around the room shattered like thunderclaps.

“God help her,” they said in hushed tones.

“She doesn’t know who he really is.”

“Poor thing thinks she can save him.”

But she did know.

She had seen him drunk and dangerous, his breath thick with whiskey and his eyes glassy with anger. She had seen him furious and too far gone, his jaw clenched tight like a trap, lips curling around words that tasted like poison. She had watched him stumble through fights, tearing at the world with fists and rage.

And still, she loved him.

Not in spite of the darkness he carried- but through it.

Because he wasn’t all fury and heat. Not with her.

With her, Rafe was something else entirely.

He’d stumble through the door of her small apartment at 3 a.m., blood dried on his knuckles, bruises blooming purple and blue across his jawline like tragic flowers. His heartbeat would thunder in his chest, wild and frantic- like a trapped animal desperate to find a way out.

And there she would be. Waiting.

Always waiting.

Barefoot, wearing one of his old hoodies that swallowed her small frame, eyes soft as a summer night but never scared.

She’d catch him before he fell, steady him when he swayed.

Her fingers-delicate and sure-would lift his face, tilt his chin, and wash the grime and blood away, cleaning more than just his skin.

He’d sink to the bathroom floor, exhausted and broken, while she knelt beside him. Her hands trembled sometimes as she dabbed at his wounds with cotton soaked in peroxide, but her touch was gentle, healing. Her presence was heavier than the weight of the world- like an anchor that held him steady, a lighthouse shining through a storm he thought he’d never survive.

“Good boy,” she whispered once, voice barely more than a breath. She pressed her forehead to his, skin warm against skin. “Come close. I’ll show you Heaven, if you’ll be an angel all night.”

And in that moment, the wild storm raging inside him softened.

They never saw that Rafe.

The one who traced soft hearts on her cheek with his rough thumb, careful as if she might break.

The one who kissed her like she was a rare secret he could never risk losing.

The one who told her his darkest secrets in broken fragments, trusting her to hold them gently, like fragile glass.

They didn’t hear how he laughed for her -a low, hoarse sound, like it scraped its way out of him, surprised it could exist at all.

They didn’t see how he held her like she was the first good thing he’d ever touched in his life.

All they saw was the wreckage.

She saw the boy inside it.

“I can fix him,” she told her sister once, pouring coffee into a chipped mug, her voice quiet but certain. “No, really. I can.”

And maybe she was right.

He started leaving the gun in the drawer when he came over. Stopped picking fights just to feel something real. He let her paint daisies on his nails once- pink and clumsy, and he smoked out the window, pretending not to smile as she giggled beside him.

She could feel him changing- slow as molasses, but real. Tangible. Like watching the tide retreat and realizing land had always been beneath the waves.

But some nights…

When the whiskey came back out.

When the darkness cracked through his grin again.

When he said things he didn’t mean, and broke things he swore he wouldn’t.

She’d lie awake long after he’d fallen asleep, staring at the ceiling while his arm lay heavy across her waist, steadying her like the world itself might shatter otherwise.

And she’d wonder.

What if I can’t?

What if loving him isn’t enough?

Her eyes would sting, but she’d blink the tears back, lean close to kiss his temple, and whisper promises he wouldn’t remember in the morning.

Because she remembered.

She remembered who he was when he was hers.

And if the whole island wanted to shake their heads and mutter prayers? Let them.

She didn’t need saving.

She’d chosen him.

Even if it killed her.

[wallofchynax]

PRETTY GIRLS MAKE PRETTY TOYS

Requested: Can I request WWF wrestler reader becomes the newest member of Degeneration X and Shawn + Hunter accepted her into the faction through a totally not real (sexual) initiation and they continue to take advantage of her & use her for their personal pleasure?

tag list for shawn fics and hunter fics: @coffincorey, @dilanmoodboards, @sultryfandoms, @prettylittlegleek16, @fairiebabey, @hbkchokeme @lmntl

content warnings: can be read as dubcon early on, oral sex, facials, unfair power dynamics.

The hallway felt a lot longer than it should have been.  

You passed catering. You passed make up and you passed your normal locker room. Every step towards the Locker Room you were told to go to felt like a dare. Like you were doing something that you shouldn’t be doing. Like you were about to make a decision that once it was done, it couldn’t be undone.  

You didn't think about the possibility of joining Degeneration X, but once you got here, once you saw what they were really about, something inside you changed. 

It’s not just the swagger. It’s the way the whole locker room bends around them, like they own the place. Maybe they do. 

And you want in. 

Desperately. 

You’re still new. Barely a few TV appearances under your belt, mostly squash matches and dark segments, but you’ve got heat. You’ve got bite. Enough that Chyna raised an eyebrow once during training and muttered, “She’s got something.” That whisper alone kept you awake for a week. 

You’re hungry and it only got worse when one evening, when you were in the gorilla position, Shawn Michaels came up to you with all the swag and glory of a champion to offer to join DX. Problem was, there was an initiation you had to complete to join them, but you would not let fear get in the way of what, would you? 

You stopped at the door as your hand touched the door handle. For the last time, you tried to find any reason why you should. You could have walked away. You could have found any reason not to go through with it but in your head, you knew this was possibly your last chance and your only chance of getting in with DX. In this industry, it's sink, or swim and you wanted to swim right to the top of the ladder to gain success. So, instead of finding a reason to walk away, you opened the door.  

It was dimly lit as was per with these shitty cheap locker rooms that were the only things wresters could realistically afford. There were no cameras obvious, and no staff. Just exactly who you were expecting. Hunter Hearst Helmsley and Shawn Michaels. Shawn sitting reclined on a beat-up leather couch that was in the room (someone must have dragged in in at some point as it looked different from the rest of locker room's furnishings) and Hunter sitting on a bench.  

They looked like they had been waiting for a while.  

"Told you she'd come," Shawn said, not even bothering to hide the fact he was looking your body up and down like a meal, "Didn't I say she'd come, Hunter?" 

"You were right..." Hunter mumbled, looking to the side and likewise, looking you up and down like a predator sizing down its prey, "Looks like she's got that look," 

That look.  

The one that says you'd do anything to belong. The one that says your whole damn career and what happens after it is dependent on what happens in this room and whether these two men leave it happy and contented with you. Something told you deep inside that they didn't intend on doing much talking today.  

You shut the door behind you and padded further into the room with your eyes darting between the two men.  

"So," you cleared your throat trying not to sound like every nerve in your body was currently on fire right now, "What's this...initiation?"  

Shawn let out a laugh. It was soft and yet sin incarnate, "Still think this is part of a work?" 

Hunter merely smiled, a smile that did not quite reach his eyes, "No cameras, script... this part is all real," 

You don't speak but you notice that your breath hitches ever so slightly. Something in your mind told you exactly what you knew they wanted from you in return. You could read it on their face and their body language. You knew exactly what the pair of them wanted and instead, you chose not to say anything and play dumb, 

They waited. You didn't speak. 

Shawn tilted his head but didn't move, "You want in that bad? Want to wear the shirt and ride out coattails for your career?" 

You couldn't even deny that's what you wanted. It was exactly what you wanted.  

"Then you got to prove it," Hunter said, "Prove you can hang with us and not back out when things get hard," 

You still didn't speak. You didn't know what exactly you could say right now as it was pretty clear right now where the conversation was headed. The worst part was despite the fact you were only inches away from the door, you didn't move to leave. You didn't attempt to leave the room at any point of this. The locker room did feel like it was closing in on you. The room smelt like sweat and beer that shouldn't even be there. You shouldn't be in this room with them, knowing anyone could walk in at any moment and see you with them and let the whole thing go haywire and yet, here you were.  

At that moment, Shawn was the first one to get up and stride over to you. He was still smiling and acting as if this was a DX bit, like this whole situation was a gag and only he was the one who got to know the punchline. When he got to you, he reached out and brushed his hair away from your face, almost sickeningly sweet, "You know," he murmured, hand now resting on your cheek, "Plenty of girls have wanted in. Most of them don't make the cut," 

You were too busy paying attention to Shawn that you didn't notice Hunter had gotten up and was behind you, a hand reaching towards your hip in a very...surprisingly gentle sort of way. In any other context, it might have been considered sweet.  

"It takes a real special kind of girl to keep our attention," he said against your ear low, "Do you think you could be that special kind of girl?" 

You nod.  

You've been here long enough. What the harm of going a little further? 

Shawn chuckled, low, "Then, let's see what our potential recruit can do?" 

He unbuckles his belt slowly, drawing it out, eyes locked onto yours the entire time as Hunter's hand reaches up your body and ghosts your throat, only wrapping but no pressure applied. 

"Are you gonna let us use that mouth, princess?" Hunter asked but it wasn't a question or a suggestion.  

You nodded. 

"Yes," 

"Good girl,"  

Removing his hand, he pushed you onto your knees. Shawn had already gotten himself out of his pants and was pumping his hard thick cock, getting it ready for your eager mouth. His strokes lazy as he watched you get comfortable on your knees, "Get to work then, princess. You want to ride with us, you got to earn your spot," 

And so you do. Shawn's cock his already heavy in your hands as you lean forward. He tastes like sweat and salt. The man felt like power, a man used to being worshipped and now that power has extended itself into having you on your knees in front of him with a mouth full of him. 

"Fuck..."  

He groaned out as he reached one hand forward and already gripping your hair, wrapping his fingers around the strands of hair and pulling tight, "That's it...real cute, sweetheart," 

This wasn't your first time around this block, and you wanted to make sure they both knew that. If they thought you were going to be a whimpering crying virgin about the whole thing and let them bully you and do whatever they wanted with you, then they needed to think again because you were hear to prove (rather unconventionally) that you were more than capable of holding the DX name. You bobbed your head slowly, letting your tongue work around the head before you started taking him in further and further, enjoying the way he hissed through his teeth, enjoying the show in front of him. 

Hunter watched, arms folded as a smirk played on his face as he watched the scene in front of him, "Not bad," he muttered as he moved to the side of you, "Let's see how she multi tasks. Very important for being one of the boys..." 

Before you could even brace yourself, his zipper came down and he was already nudging you to take hold. Thick, heavy and rather large. Neither of them were small men. Being the good little girl that you were, you switched hands almost immediately, one wrapping around the base of Shawn's cock, the other now stroking Hunter as he groaned low in his throat. His hand also fisting in your hair too. 

"Gonna be a good little recruit for us, huh?" he rasps, "Taking us both...a real team player," 

You pulled back but only so you could breathe. The sight of you made both of their cock's twitch. Lips puffy, drool covering your chin and mascara already ruined around your eyes as you gasped for air, "I want it...I want you both..." 

Hunter's cock pressed against your lips now. You knew exactly what you had to do and that was to perform for them. You didn't need to be told what to do. You just do it. You opened your mouth and let your already glossy eyes drift over to Hunter who was watching you breathing out a good fucking girl as he slid his cock in a lot slower than Shawn did but your needed it. His size stretched your mouth, but you didn't gag. You wanted to prove that you could handle it. That you could handle them with no issues, so you swallowed him down no problem as you bobbed your head on his cock, taking him deeper into your mouth.  

Your jaw was strained on his cock and eyes watering, mascara streaking and drool pooling onto your shirt. You didn't mean to turn this into a messy sort of blowjob, but you couldn't help it when your mouth was being tested. Shawn stood next to you, stroking lazily at the sight as he watched you work yourself on Hunter's cock.  

When it was time to switch, you did so seamlessly, pulling off of Hunter with a gasp and going back to Shawn with your tongue already flicking out at the tip before you swallowed him up again as his hips thrust into your mouth, forcing you to take him in more.  

"Look at you," Shawn groaned, shallowly fucking your mouth using your hair as leverage, "Better than a fucking pornstar..."  

Hunter was hardly patient as he made sure your hand was back on his cock, keeping him going while your mouth bobs on Shawn's dick. For as long as they managed, this was how it worked. You switched between cocks. Gradually, they took more control eventually just passing your head between them as they began to fuck your face as the more impatient, they got. It was like you were just a pretty little toy for them to play with and honestly, you didn't mind. Sure, this might not have been the respected way of getting into a faction and advancing your career but if you are going to take the shortcut, why not have fun with it and you were having a lot of fun watching these men give into their very primal instincts over a blowjob.  

You knew the moment was coming. You could feel it. Hunter's voice is sharper when ordering you about and Shawn's cock keep twitching in your throat. Something has to give and you know if means both of them are close to cumming.  

You pull off and look at them, spit and precum shining on your lips, eyes wide and needy. 

"You gonna let us cum on that pretty face, rookie?" Shawn pants, fist tightening around the base of his cock.  

You nod. You want it. You need it. 

You take Hunter in one last time, deeper now, working your tongue along the underside of his shaft until he curses under his breath and pushes your head back. 

"Fuck. Get ready," 

You dropped your hands, opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out as your chest heaved.  

They both finished. First Shawn, thick spurts painting your tongue and chin, then Hunter, hot and fast across your cheek and lips. The mess is warm, humiliating and intoxicating.  

You stayed on your knees, smiling up at them, not wiping any of it away letting them take a good look at their new DX girl.  

Shawn grinned feeling satisfied, stuffing his cock away, "Now, that's a DX welcome," 

Hunter's fingers brush up some of the mess from your jaw and pushed it past your lips. You sucked it clean without question, moaning slightly as you did, eyes fluttering at you watched them both. 

"Good girl," Hunter cooed, kissing your cheek, almost lovingly, "Looks like you're in," 

[lostwysteria]

Part 3 of the E-Soul arc. A bit late today, sorry. It's a little short, more of a set up chapter than anything.

Masterlist

“So how are your boyfriends?” Moon asked over the video call as Ling chopped some veggies for the chicken stirfry he was making for dinner.

“I think they're fine? Miss. J said there was something going on and I needed to stay away for a week. Wreck is handling it. Nothing feels off. So it should be fine?”

Moon choked and dropped her phone.

…

“I can't believe it! Our Ling Ling has come back to us!” Xia Qing gushed over her own video call with two of her four boys. Pomelo and Lin Ling were the other two. 

“Yup! And we get to keep him. Though, we have to share him with that shady Nice and bad boy Wreck. Get this, they’re dating Ling!”

“No!” Qing gasped in pure outrage. “Not our sweet Ling Ling. He’s too pure for that!” 

“He still is. He’s even more powerful. He is reaching peak momness.” Yang Cheng complained. “I almost called him that earlier when he scolded me about muddy shoes on the freshly mopped floor.”

“Oh my god. That's amazing.” She laughed.

“This is amazing. He's staying with us for the week. Home cooked meals made with love are the best.” Shang Chao sighed in bliss. “He's making chicken stir fry for dinner tonight.”

“I am so jealous.” Qing pouted at them.

“Why are you jealous? Don't you have a hot date later?” Cheng asked as he curled around Chao.

“I do. You’ll never guess who it is!”

“Who?” The two asked their platonic soulmate.

“Moon! I got a date with Moon!”

The two choked and Shang Chao dropped the phone.

…

X yawned as another stream ended. That day had been a good one. He’d been seen taking care of some thugs and he got to talk with his favorite anomaly. Homemaker, Lin Ling, was truly interesting. 

The reality warper hadn't been this entertained in such a long time. Already so much has changed from his previous predictions. X had no idea where things were going now. He was all for this new, unknown reality.

Maybe X needed to make his own entrance as his hero self?

…

Homemaker felt uneasy in the old boba shop. Yang Cheng was doing a thing for the kids at his old workplace. 

Uncle Rock was still behind the counter, running things as business boomed that day. 

Everything was normal, but he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease.

“You okay?” Shang Chao asked as he brought over some drinks. 

“Yeah.” He waved his concern away. “You seem to know the owner well.” Homemaker observed.

“Yeah.” Shang Chao waved off, focusing on his boyfriend. 

The performance was amazing as always and Homemaker couldn't focus one bit. The uneasy feeling never went away at all.

…

Homemaker could feel the sweat roll down the back of his neck. For some reason all of the top ten (besides Nice) were getting home at the same time. His hook sped up as he waited alone in the lobby for his two charges. They had to take a call from Shang Chao’s dad. He finished the hat he was working on and immediately switched yarns to make a new one. 

He was making winter wear for all of his charges. Nice’s was white and gold to go with his colors. Wreck’s was going to be black and red to match the suit and the gem he wore. Little yellow arrows would be on the bottom. He planned on doing silver and magenta for Moon, electric blue for Yang Cheng, simple green for Xia Qing, and simple yellow for Shang Chao.

He could feel the eyes on him. All curious. He knew what he looked like. Too soft to be a hero. All soft features and fabrics. Domesticity incarnate. 

Mei-jie left her post to come over to where he was sitting. She had a bag in her hand.

“My daughter heard that you crochet. She’s a huge fan of yours, so she wanted you to have this. She has nerve issues in her hands and can't craft anymore and thought you would put it to good use.” She handed him the bag. Inside were several skeins of alpaca wool yarn ranging in colors from white to dark brown.

He was stunned and moved nearly to tears. “I know just what I want to make with this. Tell her I said thank you.”

“I will. She’ll be thrilled.”

E-Soul (he had to remember to call him by his hero name while working) walked in with Shang Chao. Homemaker stood up and joined them in going to the elevators. 

“Sorry to make you wait. Come on. Let's get home already.” Chao said tiredly.

They did just that, not knowing how much curiosity in seven (8) other powerful heroes had been piqued.

“That was Homemaker. Look him up.” Mei told them, nonplussed at the almost pleading looks they gave her. She had been there for too long as a receptionist, really.

No one saw X’s smirk.

[azukanacrown]

"Tʜᴀɴᴋ Yᴏᴜ."

Pᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Bᴜʀɴɪɴɢ Sᴘɪᴄᴇ Cᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ & Gᴏʟᴅᴇɴ Cʜᴇᴇsᴇ Cᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ

Sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Gᴏʟᴅᴇɴ Cʜᴇᴇsᴇ Cᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ ɪs sᴛᴜᴄᴋ ʀᴇᴍɪɴɪsᴄɪɴɢ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇɴ'ᴛ ғᴜʟʟʏ ʜᴇʀ ᴏᴡɴ.

Tᴀɢs: Aɴɢsᴛ, Hᴜʀᴛ ɴᴏ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ, Sᴏᴜʟᴛɪᴇs?

Wᴏʀᴅs: 2860

Lɪɴᴋs: AO3, ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ, ᴄᴀʀʀᴅ

Iɴsᴘᴏ! Cʜᴇᴄᴋ ɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ! by @the-alpha-doodle-dome

Golden Cheese Cookie grimaced at the memory of frenzied screams and the sound of bones crushing. She rubbed the bright red gem between her fingers, reminding herself of its smoothness, a trait that was a stark contrast to its owner. She sat on her throne, mouth resting against her palm as she focused more on her thoughts than the cheesebirds around her, giving their regular report.

“Your Majesty?” One of the birds tapped her ankle gently, she jumped. “I apologize for startling you, Your Majesty, but you seem distracted. Should we come back another time? This week’s reports are nothing interesting, the soul-cheeses are still stable.”

She sighed before nodding. “Yes, that… yes, that would be good. Thank you for your hard work, Little One.” The image of a small Kulfi child flashed in her mind. “Please don’t take my inattentiveness as offensive.”

The little bird chirped happily, “Never, Your Majesty! But for now, we’ll be excusing ourselves. Let us know if you require our assistance anytime!” She smiled at them, nodding in acknowledgement. The three of them hopped away, and she waited till they exited the room before melting into her hands. The Soul Jam cold against her cheek.

After her final battle with Burning Spice Cookie in Beast Yeast, she thought he had been defeated. He hadn’t shown his face for some time, and his lands seemed to have become more peaceful—as peaceful as a nation obsessed with war and power could be. But one day, a cloaked figure stumbled onto her kingdom’s grounds.

He was mangled, covered in bruises and deep, untreated gashes, his arm clearly broken in several places. There was still jam dripping from his cloak and his poorly wrapped bandages. His Soul Jam was the only thing seemingly untouched.

Golden Cheese Cookie stood up from her throne, leaving to roam her empty kingdom.

“Thank you.” He held her face, smearing warm jam onto her cheek.

She stiffened, clutching the Soul Jam. She shouldn’t feel bad for such a monster; with everything he’d done, it was only what he deserved. But how he looked at her when finally he found her was… conflicting. He had that wild, sinister smile she had known him to have, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They gazed at her with affection, or familiarity, maybe even love; his brows weighed heavily on his countenance, and the dark bags under his eyes only deepened his stare. He seemed desperate to see her.

She stared down at his Soul Jam; it looked as if the light it emitted was swirling, and she found herself unable to look away. The soft sound of children giggling, followed by a deep chuckle, warmed her ears. She couldn’t help but close her eyelids, as, for some reason, tears were burning at her waterline. In that moment of darkness, she saw glimpses of small kulfi children, happily holding up bundles of flowers to her. A rarity in the Land of Spice.

There was another deep chuckle as she… or the eyes of who she watched through, reached down to take the flowers. A large, red hand took a Saffron in hand before tucking it behind one of the children’s ears. Golden Cheese Cookie shook her head and looked back at the gem. It felt warm, and it was pulsing like a heart.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw visions like that. And she knew what they were, who they belonged to. It did nothing to ease her consciousness.

With no words exchanged, they started to fight. Burning Spice Cookie had rushed to attack her almost immediately, throwing his raggedy cloak away from him, which only allowed Golden Cheese Cookie to see more of the damage she had caused in the seconds before he was upon her.

Despite his condition, he was as lively as ever. Swinging his axe wildly, tearing open his partially healed wounds, and unbinding his bandages.

“Stop! Look at yourself, you’ll kill yourself doing this!” She wasn’t sure why she even cared to say that; maybe just seeing someone so desperate to continue fighting like that confused her. Given he didn’t care to absorb her powers when he first had the chance, she knew he had been there for her. Perhaps his vengeance just burned that deeply.

He only laughed manically like before, continuing to provoke and tease her as if they were just playing a game. It wasn’t the state of someone hellbent on revenge.

It wasn’t a difficult battle; she didn’t even have to use her new powers to defeat him. After a few slashes and solid strikes to his old wounds, he slowed down tremendously. She cracked him across the jaw with the flat end of her spear, ending the fight. Pressing her heel into his stomach, she anchored the tip of her spear on his Adam’s apple.

“Why are you here, Destroyer?” He laughed, the motion causing her weapon to dip into his throat.

“I missed you, Birdie. You left with such haste that we didn’t even get to our encore.” She glared at him, eying him with both suspicion and interest. He laid there, still smiling widely, staring at her almost expectantly. His eyes kept wandering over her form, going back and forth between looking her in the eyes and taking in the rest of her glory.

His grin slightly faltered when she pulled the spear away. “What are you playing at, Burning Spice Cookie?”

Golden Cheese Cookie sighed. She didn’t know what came over her in that moment, but she had decided to spare him. He was too weak to be of any real threat, so long as she kept her eye on him, and she couldn’t bring herself to kill anyone in such a pathetic state. No matter how much they deserved it.

She kept him locked up beneath the castle, routinely giving him food and water, which only grew into piles in the corner of his cell. He refused her help in every way, not even letting her close enough to examine his wounds. By now, they would’ve been heavily infected if it weren’t for the Soul Jam still lodged in his chest.

“Why is it there?” Golden Cheese Cookie asked out of nowhere, staring at him through the bars. His eyes glinted in the dark as he looked over his shoulder at her.

“Why is what?” He growled.

She gestured towards her chest, tapping it. “Your Soul Jam. Every one of us, even those other Beasts, has it embedded into something. But yours is baked into your dough.”

“What does it matter?” He grinned at her. “Why? Are you planning on taking it for yourself? Are you trying to figure out how to take it out of me without my death? Sorry to break it to you, but that simply isn’t possible. You’re welcome to take it, though, if you grant me another battle.” She rolled her eyes at his sadistic enthusiasm.

“That’s not it.” His smile turned to a scowl, and he turned away from her once again. “Why are you so intent on fighting? Surely, you must be bored with it by now.”

He let out a boisterous laugh. Burning Spice sighed, sitting there silently before groaning, “You understand nothing.”

“No, I don’t. For someone so callous, you speak only in riddles and expect me to be able to decipher them. I’m not an anthologist and you’re no poet, so what is it I don’t understand?”

He huffed a laugh, shooing her away like she was his servant. “I would think you’d know... leave me be.”

“No, you are going to talk.”

He sat there, his back still turned to her. She stood there, quietly waiting for a response or a shift in the thickness of the air. But the uncomfortable awkwardness only seemed to matter to her, as he continued to lie there breathing slowly and steadily.

“Answer me!” She smacked the cell, releasing an unrhythmic tune into the air.

“Don’t get too violent now, else you’ll resemble me too much.” He chuckled.

She gripped the bars, shaking them from the sudden weight of her body. “I am nothing like you! You are a disgusting tyrant and enthusiastically psychopathic! You’ve turned over kingdoms, nations that you made, entire lineages of cookies whose names are only remembered by those who aren’t yet dust! And even the dead have no rest from your wrath, their remains only fuel for your frenzy. So no, what is it that I’m supposed to understand from you?” She screamed at him.

Burning Spice sat up, fully looking her in the eyes. “I remember when I got upset about such menial things.”

Golden Cheese Cookie sat upon her perch overlooking the colosseum. Even the air itself was heavy with emptiness as the smell of the wind, slowly scraping away at the bricks, surrounded her. She wondered if one of Burning Spice Cookie’s kingdoms had an arena, maybe several of them did. She wondered if he sat like she was now, just looking at the memory of what was meant to be a lively place.

“I’m nothing like him.” Abruptly standing from her spot, she quickly exited the building.

She wasn’t sure how long she kept him down there. It might’ve been days or months, even. But time was always something she let slip by, even before all this. After the war, there was no reason to worry about what day or year it was when there were no more cookies left to live it.

His Soul Jam pulsed in her hand, drawing her attention. It was beating rapidly and was on the verge of burning her fingers.

“My Lord, what happened to the Paprika Isle?” A small child’s voice spoke up.

“Hmm?” She… he looked down at them.

“Paprika Isle. I haven’t heard from my friend there in a little while, and when I went to look for them, it was like the whole village up and vanished. Is… my friend okay?” The child squeezed Burning Spice’s hand as they walked through his Saffron reserve.

Flashes of screams and raging fires flashed within her mind, as she saw memories of the village being ravaged. An onslaught brought on by another tribe.

He sighed. “They have moved on, there was no longer any water for their crops, and they’ve been going through some troubling harvests. So, they have moved further out for more fertile lands.” He spoke measuredly.

“Oh.” The child looked down. “Will I see my friend again?”

Burning Spice Cookie squeezed his hand. “I’m sure you will, Little One.”

The child smiled up at him, a face that distorted into a gruesome image as he stood above him, axe in hand.

Abruptly sitting up in bed, Golden Cheese Cookie held her silk sheets, trying to catch her breath. She looked over to their Soul Jams, lying next to one another. Whipping it off her bedside counter, she grabbed Burning Spice’s Jam and held it in the air. She heaved; she could feel the trembling of her arm in her ribs with every breath she stole.

She sighed. Dropping her arm. Golden Cheese stared at it lying in her lap, as it pulsed rapidly.

“Why won’t you answer me!” She shouted, hitting the bars. “You were so eager to speak when we first met, and now here you are, battered and pathetic—and silent! Why aren’t you speaking?” It was driving her crazy. He shows up after how long, seeking her out, trying to kill her, yet he won’t even talk if it isn’t in the heat of battle.

“Does it make you feel better to ignore me?” She snarled. “You can’t beat me in battle, so instead you choose to behave like a child! Your people fear you. Fear for their lives, their people. And yet, you are nothing but an overgrown child throwing tantrums because you’re bored.” Her words did nothing to make him face her.

“They needed you! You were their god; you created everything they knew, everything they could ever need or want. But you couldn’t stand to look your own failure in the eyes. They needed you and you abandoned them!” Golden Cheese Cookie gripped the bars, heaving. Her heartbeat was so loud in her ears, it was like an earthquake in her skull.

“As did you.” She looked up at him, expecting some sinister smile that wasn’t there. He was sitting there, staring at her, watching her in this moment of weakness with not a single ounce of joy or sadistic satisfaction. “I was made first, alongside my Soul Jam.”

“What?”

“I am answering your question… from before,” his eyes wandered from hers, “I was made to embody my Soul Jam. At any moment, you or any of the other holders could abandon your power. But I am my Soul Jam, I am nothing without it.”

“You don’t even deserve it.” She pushed herself away from the cell.

“Hmm.” He subconsciously nodded. “I know.”

That was the night before he broke out of his cell. She was in her study, looking over the reports her cheesebirds had gathered from Wizard Cookie, trying to familiarize herself with his extensive notes, when Burning Spice Cookie broke in. Dragging her by the wings, he threw her outside, where they once again fought.

He had the upper hand at first, having taken her by surprise. And of course, he was sure to egg her on. Taunting her with her failures, burning away some of the notes he had swiped from her desk when he pulled her away.

“You think you can bring them back with this? They’re gone! They are dead.” He smiled at her, pulling his axe from thin air, “You should be thankful, though, for if they were still in this crumbling tomb, I would’ve made you watch me tear each and every one of them apart.”

Golden Cheese Cookie snarled, aiming her spear forward. “It’s time for you to stop talking.”

Their battle was gruesome, more so than their first when he disfigured her. She was sure to break every bone she came in contact with, and he tore every inch of flesh he touched. With his axe, his claws, and his teeth. Buildings around them collapsed to the ground as they crashed into them, something that she would have to grieve later.

Once again, they found themselves where it started. Him on the ground and her spear to his throat. But this time she was seizing, his knuckles ghost-white as they gripped the staff of her spear. She thought her eyes might burst out of her skull from the pressure building in her ears.

He was smiling up at her, but it wasn’t the wide, sinister grin he usually carried. It was like he was just happy to see her.

“Nothing to say?” Golden Cheese Cookie growled, pressing the tip into his neck, drawing his jam. “How many times are we going to go back and forth like this?”

“We don’t have to. You know that.” He said.

“You—why?” Her weapon trembled in her hands as she looked him in the eye. Despite having more than enough time to counter her, he did nothing but continue to lie there. “Why can’t I—rrgh, you deserve to die! You’re a plight to this world, you’re worth nothing!” She spat at him.

“I know.” She gasped as he swiped upwards, grabbing her wrist and pulling her forward.

“What are—”

Crrr—the crunch was loud as her blade cut into his throat. Gurling on his own jam, he still laughed. His heavy hand weighed hers down as they fell to his Soul Jam. Slowly; he brought his other hand up to cup her face. An action she was too stunned to reject.

“Thank you.” He held her cheek tenderly, a gesture she couldn’t imagine would come from him despite the warmth smearing her face.

She sat there for a long time. Next to his lifeless body. Her hand still on his Soul Jam. That was when his memories flashed in her mind for the first time. Of him gripping the fiery sands to grab any bit of his crumbled people, to hold them close to him. Her mind flipped between her delicate fingers and his monstrous claws; the crumbs of their treasures were dry in her hands. Of him running to rush children away from floods, and earthquakes, and erupting volcanoes. Images of hordes of monsters spun around in her psyche, rushing in, destroying homes, and tearing apart her people. Of the first time he struck his axe against his own. The jam warm on his hands.

Her screams echoed into the night as the visions tormented her, even after moving away from his body.

Golden Cheese Cookie shuddered, as again she sat in her throne listening to her cheesebirds give their report. She buried him in the garden. He didn’t deserve it, but it seemed like the only appropriate place to put his body. His Soul Jam sat in her palm, as always. Now the memory of him and of all those he carried fell solely onto her to remember.

ᴀ/ɴ. Lᴏᴡᴋᴇʏ, I'ᴍ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪs ᴀ ᴍᴜʟᴛɪ-ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ғɪᴄ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ I sᴛɪʟʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜɪs ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ, I ғᴇᴇʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ᴘᴜᴛ sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪs. Aʟsᴏ I ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴜɪɴ ʏ'ᴀʟʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ sᴀᴅ ᴀss sʟᴏᴡ-ʙᴜʀɴ :)))

[side-stitch-and-contour-lines]

Slieve Foy

The concourse of Grand Central station was packed; she hurried as best she could towards the platform to escape the crowds at the time of leaving the offices. Once on the seat of the carriage, she could breathe. At last, this week was over. At last, after three years, her stay was coming to an end. At last, she was leaving Belfast for good.

The train left the station ten minutes later. Slowly at first, passing through the south-western districts of the city. Her heart sank as she recognised the outskirts of the Finaghy neighbourhood that had been so familiar to her for three years. She forced herself to look away. Despite the imminent move, a bitter feeling persisted. Her thoughts returned inexorably to her former companion who had left her six months earlier. She was just recovering from the depression and burnout that had followed the break-up. The end of winter and her sick leave had ‘motivated’ her to return to France for good. She had just picked up her last belongings from the office a few hours earlier. She had to move on. That's what everyone was telling her.

As the train headed south, the dark mass of the mountains appeared on the horizon. Her destination was on the other side of the hills, behind the border with the Republic of Ireland, in the town of Dundalk. She had been living there for three months. Tomorrow afternoon, she will leave for Dublin harbour, to take the ferry to Cherbourg.

Dundalk station was a pale yellow color, now lit by sodium lights that had taken over from the glow of dusk. Under the arches of the ramp that led up to the street, verses were painted along the metal beams: “You will never see him again”, “Your gaze fixed longer than you meant it to”. These letters, painful at first glance, had become bland and less mocking over time, now she was almost proud of feeling this way. A few steps from the station, she entered the small studio she had been renting from two friends, Sean and Zoe, two musicians born in the city, whose rental had fortunately become available a few days before she had to move out of Belfast in a hurry, unable to afford to pay rent on her own. Everything was already stored there, a sports bag, two suitcases filled to the brim, a pile of belongings waiting to be sorted and sent to the local dump by Sean. “No worries, I can take care of everything, go light, don’t burden yourself with all that,” he had told her the night before. She had let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you very much, really… I’ll have some time for myself before leaving tomorrow.” she had replied. “Maybe I could drop by Carlingford before leaving for Dublin…” she murmured thoughtfully. She surprised herself by saying these words. She had never thought about it until then, all her thoughts and anxieties had been focused on this move. Why did Carlingford suddenly come to her mind, for no real good reason? It was just a small village anchored on the banks of the Newry fjord, less than an hour from Dundalk, just after crossing the border into neighboring Ireland; a few streets and picturesque ruins at the foot of the highest peak in the surrounding mountains: Slieve Foy.

The next day, the whole valley and the surroundings of Dundalk were plunged into a thick fog, the mist as if trapped between the mountains and the sea. The bus waited there in this windless grey mush, along the road that ran alongside the harbour. A handful of people got into the pale vehicle which, with a sudden burst, set off. And after half an hour, at the tip of the bay, once the bus had slid down the last hill that swung towards the neighbouring fjord, they emerged from the greyness. All the mist and clouds had remained trapped in the neighbouring bay, on the other side of the slope. Then the sky revealed itself, blue, gigantic. The hills, themselves, stretched as far as the eye could see. She went down alone to the bus stop at the foot of the Carlingford tourist office; the village was silent. The wind seemed to rise, suddenly, rolling and molding the waves that rubbed against the jetty. She knew the route she wanted to take; along Newry St, turning right after the church, up past the few houses on the steep lane, past a few farms with curious cats. Along a low wall, a clean, dark plaque, recently installed, wrote in clear letters a strange text: “Queen Sadhbh lives on these moors with her daughters, Princess Abbie, Ella and Froya, friends of the last spirits of Ireland.” The inhabitants were well inspired, she thought, and this innocent folklore made her smile despite the arduous climb of the path that tugged at her calves.

As she climbed, the breeze became fleeting, inviting her to raise her head. The blue sky faded before the crest of the mountain, underlined by clouds that overflowed from the neighboring valley, like a magical aura. Sheets and tongues of swirls licked the tops of the rocks, descended towards the fjord before dissipating gently among the moors of purple ferns and timothy grass. All this sky seemed at once ready to overflow and of a thousand-year-old stability. Her heart tightened; she noticed that she was having trouble breathing. She stopped to catch her breath on a rocky outcrop, overlooking Carlingford under the steep, tiny just below her feet. “What am I doing here…?” she thought, feeling a mixture of fear and fascination growing within her… Slightly haggard, she staggered towards the path that led to the misty heights of Slieve Foy.

At the edge of the clouds, when everything around her seemed to disappear, a figure caught her eye. To her right, a few meters higher, a dark figure stood at the end of the ridge. It was tall, imposing, and seemed frozen, like a statue carved into the dark granite rock. She could not make out the face of this human form. Only a few long brown locks were swept by the wind. A gust of wind suddenly whistled down from the summit, flattening the brown grass around the hiker. She almost staggered while the presence remained stoic above her. “How did you manage to climb so high?!” she cried, her voice muffled by the wind, noticing only rocks and steep facades around the promontory. “Everything happens there, without words, mysteriously…!” she whispered to herself, disconcerted. The wind was so strong, so cold that she cried. Each time she wiped her wet eyes, the silhouette seemed to stand closer and closer to her. She finally stared at a female figure and a sepulchral voice then resonated:

“It is the Wind

Who shaped

The ridges,

The moors,

Your heart.”

In an instant, she felt her feet lift off the ground. Blades of grass and ferns fluttered in a series of whirling gusts around her. Her ears were ringing, her cheeks were covered in tears. Yet her body felt bathed in a soft and comforting warmth.

“You leave these lands but you will not forget me.

You will forget the faces, but your memories will remain.

The storm has made you one of our mountains

Wind standing against the assaults of time.”

Everything was suspended, the entire mountain seemed to hold its breath; then a sudden release and her heels left the intangible to fall back on the damp grass. Everything went black.

***

It was four in the morning, off the coast of Cornwall. It was cold, the wind and the engine roared in unison on the ferry deck. Everything was dark, only the white foam outlined the hull of the ship below, under the parapet. Insomniac, she was still disturbed by the experience of the day before. Had she dreamed? Yet her heart had never felt so light. She was no longer even sure how she had managed to get back to Dundalk to collect her things and arrive at Connolly Station in Dublin before her departure from the island. She saw herself just on the quayside of the port, ready to embark. She had called Sean to tell him that she would be leaving more things behind than expected. Any trace of him, the one who had left her six months ago. Just a few trinkets, clothes given to her, shared memories.

The darkness of the sea troubled her, however: she still felt the longing to return to Carlingford and Slieve Foy. Like a distant echo, a sympathetic and familiar lament. A relief and a sense of satisfaction. To leave to grow, to return to be free. Yes, the wind was now blowing at her back.

[averillaratargaryen]

The Hightower’s Shadow.

Chapter XIX

18+ content.

“Lynesse..” Cole whispered out.

Her head turned slowly, his blacked out figure present as she stood up slowly.

It was quiet, enough that her footsteps echoed through the walls, when she slowly strides towards him.

“Criston?” She called out in a concerned voice.

She could not see the marks etched in his skin, or the stains of blood that was not him, but she could feel his presence, and hear his heavy breath.

Lynesse spoke no words at first, watching him as the quietness embedded between the two, his sword falling to the ground after he no longer wished to have a hold of it.

Instead, he bought both his arms forward, holding onto her tightly when his head fell to her shoulder.

She was taken aback, almost tripping back but managed to grab ahold of her balance.

“Are you… well?” She asks.

“I am well” he muffled as his head stayed resting against her shoulder.

“And Vaeron?” She gulped, longing out the pause before her next question, afraid of what the answer was to be, “is he.. well?”

His long silence had almost captivated her to believe he was gone.

But Cole finally spoke, with one word only, “..well.”

Looking around, she let out a sigh of relief, before turning back to her shoulder that his head lay on.

Feeling her gaze, Cole forced his head up, and off her shoulder, their eyes searching through the darkness.

He stood straight, the silence emerging for longer than minutes, when all they did was stare back at one another, in comfort.

“What is it?” Lynesse asks, knowing Cole would come to ask a question. His silence only meant one thing.

He was thinking.

“Did you accept it?” He asks, letting out a strained cough, “he-? Um-? He told me that you’d have the answer? What is it? The answer?”

Lynesse had have to given it a long thought.

She wished to give Ser Vaeron a chance. Hell, he has come all the way, to see her. To be beside her, and protect her. He had done, what no mad ever did.

And whilst all this, Cole had chosen to avoid her. Her head would have made the decision whilst telling her to stop being foolish.

But it was her heart, that had her strained and lost of thought.

She believed Ser Vaeron to be kind. Perfect. But did he make her heart beat? The way that Ser Criston did?

No.

He did not challenge her, nor give his harsh opinions. He did not have Lynesse wish to pull her hair out in exhaustion, due to a conversation, nor did he touch her in a way, that would have her stomach flutter.

He could not do these things, simply because he was not Criston Cole.

He was not the man, who Lynesse’s heart desired to have.

“I did not” Lynesse shook her head, “i did not have to accept, as he did not ask.”

Cole felt some form of relief, “he did not ask?”

“No” Lynesse shook her head, “instead, he told me that he already knew.”

“Already knew what?” Cole asks.

“My feelings for you” Lynesse confessed, having Cole’s eyes widen.

“It does not matter” she shook her head, moving away, “none of it matters.”

“Lynesse” Cole called out.

“I am glad that you are well” she made a haste decision, “but you must return to my sister. I am sure she is waiting to see your condition.”

“I have no reason to be beside her” Cole shook his head, “I don’t-? What feelings are there?”

“I can not tell you” she whispered.

“You must” Cole responds.

“What use is it, of telling feelings for someone who does not feel the same?” Lynesse asks.

“What would you know if my feelings are reciprocated?” Cole asks.

“Because you followed her!” Lynesse turns back around to face him, her chest heaving as she let out heavy breaths of frustration.

Their eyes pooling into one another yet again.

A motion they could not seem to pull away from.

“I called out to you and you followed my sister” Lynesse whispered out.

“I can explain” Cole responded.

“I always knew that your feelings would not die for my sister. I knew what I was getting myself into” she responded.

“Lynesse, listen to me-?”

“It is my fault.”

“Lynesse, please-”

“I should have never asked you to kiss me. I should have never..”

“If you had just-?”

“I knew that you always loved my sister. That you would never change. I just-!”

“If you had just looked at me, Lynesse!” Cole called out loudly, stopping her from speaking over.

He held her from her shoulders, to have her concentrated in what he wished to say.

“If you had looked towards me once, over these past couple of days, you would have come to notice the truth of how I have been feeling” Cole tilted his head.

He let out a low chuckle, noticing the confusion that etched her face.

“You have been avoiding me” Lynesse whispered.

“To allow you your liberty. To- to stop myself, from saying the wrong thing- for doing the wrong thing!” Cole responded.

“You say I would not look at you and yet, you would barely look me in the eye, when you walked past me. All those times-?”

“Because I could not bare to see the sadness in you. I did not wish to see you upset, knowing I am the reason” Cole explained himself.

Lynesse’s eyes wander to his trembled hand, that pressed against his chest as he took accountability of his actions but all with reason.

With his mouth agape, he scoffed, gaining Lynesse’s attention, “I have spent the last days in agony.”

“I do not understand-?”

“Unable to be alone with you, to speak to you. To simply tell you my reasons that I had kept myself away. It has been.. hard” He let out a sigh, turning away as he continued speaking on, “all I could think of was this kiss. This kiss that made me realise just how much I want you and yet I could not tell you.”

“Why not?” Lynesse asks.

“I could not, Lynesse” he turned his head back to her, as he whispered, “and when Ser Vaeron had come around, I had realised what little chance I had left, knowing he wished to have you, knowing that you did not wish to speak to me. And rightfully so.”

She stood silently, processing his confession, not knowing what to make before the next words came out his mouth.

“I think… I think I may be in love with you” he confessed, “more than you imagine.”

They kept themselves apart for as long as they could, their heartstrings tugging onto each other.

Cole then being the first to make a move, abruptly bringing his hands to her cheeks as he grasped her face tightly, pulling her face towards him.

He had not kissed yet, no. Instead, he stared at her, around her, from the tip of her nose, to her chin, his eyes telling that he was… intrigued by her.

“What of..?” She whispered, her words trailing off, lunging herself forward, chasing after his gaze, “what of my sister?”

“What of her?” Cole asked, and finally their eyes made contact. With his lips slightly apart, he gave them a tender lick, as they were dry of emptiness, “what of your sister?”

Lynesse let out a low, quiet gasp, before the two had become sinners, their lips piercing each other’s souls. But it did not matter to either of them.

Cole was not one of religion. As for Lynesse?.. well she knew of her punishments. After all, she was a bastard.

With agression, Cole had pushed Lynesse back, his hands roaming the table that scattered the blown out candles behind her, lifting her up at the table, stood between her parted legs.

He laid out a longing kiss, before letting go, looking down at her pleading eyes, as he hand rested at her chest.

“We should go back” she whispered with a gulp, “back to our chambers.”

“I can not wait” Cole shook his head as he whispered, falling to his knees.

“We should not-!” Lynesse had fought back.

“It will not matter” Cole shook his head, “i am not man of god.”

“Then what are you?” Lynesse asks, looking down at him.

“I am yours” He praised in worship, turning to what was in front of him.

The thunderstorm begun, silencing out the sinful cries that she called out, blurred from outside the sept walls.

The dramatic weather change was clear. The gods were angry for this.

But it was far too much a good feeling, when he sucked out her living soul, as a vampire that was starved and hunted out.

He lay her down at the table, his hand travelling up her navel slowly, letting her feel what it was truly like, to be favoured, knowing this was a feeling she had never felt before.

“Fu-..” she almost let out those words, but it trailed to whispers of untold feelings.

It was not long before Lynesse found her legs shaken, as they rested above his shoulders, his head slowly sliding out from under her gold dress, kissing every inch of her shaking thighs, down to her ankle.

Lynesse lay there, gasping and panting as she felt herself release. It was wet.

Sinful.

The same word she kept repeating as she found herself dizzy and confused by the wonders that Cole played from under her dress.

She sat up slowly, to find Cole sat back, a smirk on his face as he wipes the corner of his lips, her sinful remains left stained and sticky to his chin.

“Let’s get you back to your chamber” he whispered, seductively.

It was not yet the end.

-

Lynesse had returned, to a family that was frantic and angry.

“I said this was to happen!” Otto shouted, “i warned you all!”

“I did not ask for your warnings!” Aegon shouted back.

Lynesse stayed hidden in the shadows, as she escaped up to her chamber, her mind elsewhere. She could not concentrate nor know what to say, and so, she had gone for a bath.

As though nothing had ever happened.

…

Lynesse had bathed and made her way back to her chamber, as she was now stood in front of the mirror, watching herself as she remembered what had just played out.

Imagining his sinked fingers, grasping at her thighs, hearing her delicate, soft moans that were loud enough to call an entire village, yet felt so low, as it were outrun by the storms from outside.

It was not strange to be thinking of it, given that they had just played the part out. But his presence in her chamber, that she was aware of, only made her realise just how real this all was.

She had only turned the direction of her gaze at first, her head following after, as Cole was sat at her bed.

They were silently communicating, when he stood up, and waited for her to make herself present before him.

As she began to stride slowly, he strides carefully, the two meeting in the middle.

It was only then that she had come to realise his scars, that worried her when she pressed her thumb against it gently.

“It is alright” he whispered, with a smile, reaching to her lips as he left her a peck.

Her palm stayed stuck to his cheek, before he placed her hands above hers, the coldness of her knuckles melting by the heat that his body radiated.

He watched as she gulped, raising her head in question.

“What is it?” He asks.

“Will it…?” She pauses, her eyelashes fluttering, “Will it hurt?”

“A little, yes” Cole answered honestly, “but, I may make it easier for you. If it is what you want.”

She nods slowly, her nerves caving in.

With a smile, Cole had lifted her up gently, in his arms, walking her back to her bed.

Laying her down on her back, he had hovered over, his fingers trailing down her face to rest the strands that stuck to her face, behind her ear.

She whimpered at his touch, her breath tingling at the palm of his hand.

He knew she was nervous, and the only way he was able to fix it was with a kiss.

A tendered, hot kiss, as their saliva exchanged, tongues dancing away. The kisses were slow, but enough to have Lynesse know that this was far more than lust.

Far more than sexual agression.

It was real.

She let her body sink into the mattress beneath her soon enough, after being stiff by her nerves.

Cole had now become handsy, as they roamed around her body, from her breasts, to her waist, and down to her legs.

She felts herself pulling him back for more, whilst he seemed to be pulling himself away, and she could not think for the likes of her, as to why, until her eyes fluttered open.

He stared down at her, his eyes hungry, as he lowered down her underwear.

She was taken back, when her legs had lifted over his shoulder, and her underwear now thrown to the wooden floor.

He began by kissing her ankles, down to her legs, as the tip of his nose brushed against her soft skin, her scent tingling his every fibre.

Lynesse did nothing other than witness his acts of service, as she was inexperienced to pleasures that were meaningful.

It was confusing, as though Cole was in two minds, when he had gone from kissing her to pulling away, so abruptly, before he stood up.

She was not used to a man that was gentle, or careful with her. She had made herself more aware of men who wished to tear her clothes and have her throw upside down.

But not Cole. No.

He was gentle.

And it confused her.

“What is it?” Lynesse asks, sitting up as Cole now stood beside the bed, “is it-? Is it me? Did I do something?”

Cole did not respond by words, but instead, he began to undress himself, pulling off his shirt first, and his trousers just after.

Her eyes captured to where no man had gone before. It was.. quite the gift to witness.

Hardened, and dripped at the tip.

“Lay back” he whispered, only having to take a step towards her.

She nodded, laying back down, meeting his hand at her chest, sliding down to grasp a hold of her neck, gently.

His thumb rubbed off against her chin, before he left it to lay above her bottom lip, looking down at his cock that he held in his hand firmly.

With her dress lifted slightly, it was enough for him to let the two meet, leaning forward and letting his tip rub off the top of her clit.

She let out a little gasp, when she felt a slight wave of excitement, by the feeling.

He had gotten her ready, when he teased her, playing with it a little before she was wet and dripping down.

She knew what was coming, after seeing his hand fiddle with himself from down below, as he was adjusting himself in.

Her eyes shut tightly, and soon, she almost let out a harsh scream, before his hand had hovered over her lips.

Cole had made his way inside her, her walls clenched around and she was tight and inexperienced.

He had only thrusted in once, before feeling her hands curl around his wrist, her knuckles turning white as she held tight, trying to adjust herself to the pain.

Cole had reached down, resting his lips against her head, with a peck, before thrusting in again.

It had started off slow, as he wished to warm her up after Lynesse had become stiff once again.

And it took some time, before he noticed her grasp beginning to loose, and her eyes becoming more delicate.

His hand had slid off her lips, slowly, his thrusting beginning to become natural each time.

She had only cried out little muffles, her soft moans becoming melodic to his ears, and his pace fastening.

It was much easier to thrust himself now, when his pre cum was indulged by hers, her insides now hot and sweaty.

Their heads stayed touching one another, as he fucked her with pleasure, the tip of their nose rubbing off one another, their breaths sticking to each others lips, by shared, whispered moans.

He watched, as the young woman found herself lost in thoughts, with such pleasure, that her eyes crossed when she gasped and tilted her head back into her pillow.

Cole bought himself to stand up, after he was leaning down, his hands both clasping at her legs, and with them apart, had rested both at his shoulders, thrusting inside her with his utmost strength.

At first, he felt it to be more of power control, when he had her lay there. In usual, he would be the one that laid down, with Alicent taking charge.

Lynesse had given him the opportunity to let him do as he pleased.

But what he realised more, as they went on, when he dropped his head back with a harsh thrust, was just how much more comfortable he felt, compared to every time he had ever encountered himself in a sexual act.

Pulling out, Cole had pulled Lynesse by her waist, and up onto him, her legs wrapped around his waist.

It was not tricky, when he slipped himself back in, their skin slapping against one another as she held for dear life.

It was not a stance he could keep for long, however, his legs almost breaking out, that he bought himself to lay down, Lynesse now being placed ontop.

“Do you wish to-?”

“Shush” Lynesse placed her finger above his lips, having his head lay back down.

Looking down at him, she slipped off her dress, throwing it down besides her bed.

Cole then lifted his head back up, his eyes widened.

It was the first time he had ever seen a woman, other than Alicent, that displayed as much nude.

But what shocked him more, as he sat up to kiss her once again, was just how beautiful he imagined her to be, under all those clothes.

He was scared at first, of what she would do, when he bought himself up to kiss her. He was usually pushed away, and was made aware that he was just a sex toy.

But he felt himself smile, when she had kissed him back, her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

A kiss that was so raw, and real, that he realised just how pure their acts were, in a sense.

Pulling away, they had stopped for a moment, their eyes wandering around one another, before he whispered, “you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

She chuckled softly, as he joined along, his hand held lightly to the crook of her neck when they had kissed again.

Within their longed kiss, she swayed her hips back and forth, with his cock still inside her, causing him to groan inside her mouth, with both their tongues still occupied.

He lay back down, fuzzled and dazed, as he imagined stars and galaxies swirling around his head, by the erotic feeling of her riding above him.

She rested her palm at his chest, giving herself some form of balance, her fingers curling after each bounce.

His fingers crawled up to her thighs, that he clasped on and marked when his fingers dug deep, before she had pushed him further in.

His eyes stayed clasped shut as he let out heavy breaths, feeling himself closer to releasing, before he had heard his name moaned out those pretty lips, “Criston.~”

Cole’s eyes opened almost immediately, pulling her in closer, when he could no longer take holding it in.

He was harsh with it this time, thrusting from beneath her as he tugged at her hair, “say my name again.”

“Say please” she teased.

“Please” he whimpered out, himself ready to release.

And with her final words, “fu-! Criston!~”

He had released inside her with a muffled groan, his head buried at the crook of her neck, whilst he let him, far too emptied out to care of it.

Cole could not let go.

No.

He did not wish to let go.

He held her tightly, groaning as his release felt almost like an eternity, with much built up pension.

“Oh fuck” he groaned, before his cum had finally stopped dripping out, himself dropping back down.

They both stared at one another, their breaths heavy with their bodly sweats sliding against one another.

Lynesse was worried at first. For a man, who she believed to have had a lot of experience in the past, how had he been this full.

But she did not realise his experience was simply satisfying another woman, and not himself.

Whilst Cole had worried if she had enjoyed it, or perhaps his release was far too much to handle.

But it also made him realise how perfect she was for him.

Their worries soon became a fit of laughter, realising just how perfect it was.

It was perfect, to finally have a loving encounter, rather than a lustful one.

…

Lynesse had tidied herself, as did Cole, the two then happening to meet back at her bed.

“I guess.. that is it then?” Lynesse asks.

“Unless you wish for it again?” Cole teases.

“I am far too worn out” Lynesse responds, a yawn following after.

She gave her a soft smile, helping her to her bed, “you should get some sleep. After today, I do not know what will be discussed at the council table.”

Lynesse nodded back with a sad sigh, “happiness in short lived, within these walls. I find myself in a different position when I sleep.”

“Then let me not stop you” He rested his palm above her head, stroking down her hair, not wishing to pull away.

It seemed she did not wish it either, when she held his wrist loosely, with a smile on her face.

“Goodnight” he whispered, ready to turn away until her grip was tight and she had held him back.

“Wait-!” She called out, having him turn back around, “you do not have to stop me. But.. what if you joined me?”

He widened his eyes by her question, “you wish for me to sleep beside you?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Lynesse asks.

“N-no, it’s just-?”

“I do not know what happened with my sister after you both..” she sighed, “whether she dismissed you from her bed, that is not what I want. I do not want you think it that I just wanted sex, no. It is more than that.”

“I did not think you did” Cole shook his head, “believe me, I did not.”

“Then..?” Lynesse let out a cheeky smile, as she tilted her head, “Will you sleep with me tonight?”

Her playful pout had only made Cole sure of just how much Lynesse was truthful and honest.

In the end, he had answered with a kiss to her lips, crawling himself beside her, and under the covers.

It was a long lasting kiss that they shared, before embracing one another and finding themselves in slumbers of new dreams and founded realities.