#thirsty ear records

[musicollage]

Roger Eno – The Flatlands. 1998 : All Saints.

! acquire the album ★ attach a coffee !

[buttercandy16]

In-laws

PAIRING: Dark!Agatha Harkness x Reader, Agatha Harkness x Reader x Rio Vidal

SUMMARY: In-laws are the worst and you found out the hard way.

WARNING(s): Dark themes, Non-con, and a whole lot of SMUT!

A/N: Dark themes ahead. If you find these things disturbing I strongly advice that you skip this post. Thank you!

Y/N POV 

The night's cold breeze is crisp on my face as I stand outside the balcony thinking about how perfect my wedding tomorrow will be. 

Nicky and I have been together since my parents started working for his parents. At first, I was reluctant to engage in a romantic relationship with him since in the eyes of society we were unfit for each other, but he was persistent and in the end, I let love win. I was even more thankful that his parents accepted me and my family with open arms despite our lowly status in life. 

After years of being together, we are finally making it official tomorrow as husband and wife. 

I just finished celebrating my bachelorette party earlier which was neatly organized by one of my soon-to-be mother-in-law, Agatha. While Nicky is having his bachelor's party with his set of friends. 

Everything will be perfect, for sure nothing will go wrong. 

"Excited?" I was pulled out from my thoughts when Agatha appeared by my side with a bottle of wine in hand. 

For the record, I'm currently staying at Nicky's house. Both of his mothers insisted that I stay here before the wedding and I agreed.

"Yeah, I'm so excited to get married to Nicky!" I exclaimed excitedly. 

Agatha gave me a chuckle before waving the wine bottle in front of my face. 

"Good, then we better celebrate with this." 

"Ummm... I don't want to be rude, but I'll have to decline. I don't drink alcohol, remember?"

Agatha rolled her eyes at me before she leaned in closer to my ear. 

"Oh come on, sweetheart. That was different, this one we get to enjoy all to ourselves, and I think it's about time you try right? And it's not like we're gonna get wasted, you'll be fine tomorrow. I swear." 

I suppose... 

"O--okay then, but I'll only drink one glass.”

"One glass is enough" Agatha smiled at me mischievously before slightly pushing me inside the room. 

I was a bit nervous about how she was acting, she seemed pushy. But I was fast to dismiss that thought as she filled our glasses with wine. 

She gave me mine before sitting next to me on the sofa, only an arm's length away from each other. 

"Go on" she urged playfully... 

I swirled the wine in my glass slightly before carefully putting it to my lips and tentatively sipping the liquid. I found it delicious and very cooling.

“This is delicious!" 

"Yes, simple but very soothing. Finest wine you can ever have. But, you must drink deeply for the full effect." 

I eagerly did as I was told, and Agatha seemed satisfied with this. Soon I was holding an empty glass. I had drained it and hadn't even noticed. The drink was that smooth. The only problem is that I found that I was still thirsty. 

"Could I have another, please?" I asked, her eyes glinted with something dark from my request. 

"I think that can be arranged." 

Agatha was careful to replenish my glass whenever it emptied as we talked and talked into the night. 

It was quite odd, no matter how much I drink I still feel thirsty. 

I wondered if it was starting to affect me. I noticed that the room was becoming increasingly warm. Worse, I was finding my body becoming uncomfortably warm. My face was becoming flush. My heart was beating very fast and I was practically panting, my breath had gotten so fast. I was starting to sweat inside my clothes, too. My clothes were becoming very confining. How odd, I thought. It was supposed to be a chilly evening. But now, I desire nothing more than to get out of my clothes, then I would feel so much better. 

"Have you and Nicholas done it yet?" Her question almost made me choke on my drink, her eyes never leaving mine. 

Am I hearing this right? Does she mean th--- 

She slowly traced the rim of her wineglass while looking at me curiously, "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Did you have sex yet?" 

Her question slightly took me aback but answered, nonetheless. 

"N--no, we haven't. I'm still pure" 

The moment I said pure, a shadow seems to pass on her features as the corner of her lips slightly lifted sinisterly, barely noticeable in the dark. 

But I saw it... 

She snickered under her breath as she slightly swirled the wine in her glass. 

That's when I realized that she's never touched it. Not even a single drop. 

She followed my gaze to her wine glass before catching mine. Slightly tilting her head, she then smiled knowingly. 

She knows that I've noticed. 

I was starting to feel uncomfortable from this so I decided that it was time to retire for the night. But when I stood up, I was immediately met by sudden dizziness making me sit back on the couch ungracefully. 

It felt like my innards were being replaced by some kind of emptiness. I tried to stand again, desperate to leave this room. I swayed for just a moment before Agatha caught me. There was nothing I could do now, and as I slowly slumped sideways, she gently tugged on my shoulder, causing me to lie flat, with my head on her lap. Now all I could see was my fiance's mother smiling down at me… and the world went black. 

_=_=_ 

How long I was out, I’m not sure. I opened my eyes, and it took them a moment to adjust to the light.

Something was wrong. 

My arms could not move, despite my best efforts, and the air felt rather cold on my skin. And when my eyes adjusted, I immediately saw why. My wrists had been secured firmly in two straps, on either side of my head. And the cool air on my skin was because I'm completely naked! 

I tried to scream my lungs out, to shout for help, to do anything that might get me out of this situation. But the only thing that came out was a muffled sound. That has something to do with the gag placed over my mouth. But it did draw some attention to me because a figure suddenly appeared over my vulnerable form, and when it spoke, I heard the unmistakable voice of my fiance's mother. 

"So, you're finally awake" 

"I think before you try going off on one, I should probably introduce you to a bit of "context," I think you'd call it." She reached for the table next to her and picked up a remote. She turned on the TV that was positioned just above the bed I was strapped to. "Let's just say you might want to forget about struggling when I show you this video." 

My confusion made me forget my anger, for a moment. But as the film started, and what I was watching became clear to me, my anger was replaced by shock and horror. 

It was a video of me and my co-worker Tony, sitting in my office, and him kissing me. It had been a professional meet-up, he was showing me some files that we needed to sort out before the big presentation when out of the blue he just kissed me. I froze out of shock while his lips continued to press against mine but when I finally snapped out of it I immediately pushed him off me and gave him an ear-deafening slap on the face. But that wasn't shown in the film. It was just the kiss, making it look like I did it deliberately. I remembered him looking at me in pity like he was sorry for what he did. I didn't tell anyone about it, not even Nicky. And now my soon-to-be mother-in-law possesses proof of it.

But how? Why was there a video? Based on the angle I know it was filmed from a hidden camera. Was it done intentionally? For what reason?! Was she behind it? 

If someone got hold of it, I wouldn't just get fired from fraternizing with a colleague. I would probably lose Nicky as well. 

And that scared me shitless... 

Agatha pressed another button, and the video switched off. She looked at my face, now starting to become tear-stained and the fear now plain for everyone to see. She smiled. 

"I think that expression is a good one for you," she remarked. "It makes you look so sweet and innocent." 

She leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek. I tried to jerk away but couldn't. The kiss practically seared my skin like molten lava. 

"Now that no one is going to disturb us, how about we get some fun done?" 

Agatha then began to touch me, and that was when I started to squirm a little. She moved her arms around my body, rubbing it in a very erotic way. "Aww… such a nice body, pet! I can't help myself but touch myself thinking about you every day. And now, I can't help myself anymore." She put a hand on my knee and began to gently stroke my leg. 

"What should I do first with your body?" She ran her finger on my smooth skin, before taking the gag off my mouth. 

I gritted my teeth from both anger and sadness. "Why are you doing this?" 

"Didn't I already tell you? I want your body to be mine! We are going to have so much fun, pet. And if you disobey me, I think you already know what will happen right? Not to mention, I can get  both of your parents fired, tsk... that would be unfortunate" 

A single tear ran on my cheek and Agatha kissed it, licking the drop. I know that I have no other choice but to let things happen. I have so much to lose if she doesn't get what she wants. 

She moved around and brought our lips together in a violent kiss, forcing her tongue past my gritted teeth. She bit my bottom lip hard enough to earn a gasp, allowing her to move her tongue past the barrier. 

The tongue quickly found its way around my mouth and explored every inch it could. In parallel to that, her hands moved around and groped my breast. She slightly massaged them and pinched the erected nipples. It was not that the events made me horny. It was the cold that made my body like that. 

The kiss ended after a while, me being out of air while the older woman was looking crazier than before. She licked her lips another time before stripping her shirt, skirt, and underwear away. She moved and kneeled in front of my face, her warmth being right on top of my face. "Eat up!" She said in a commanding voice, but I hesitated. The woman gritted her teeth in anger and grabbed my hair. "I ordered you to eat up!" She forced my mouth to get in contact with her entrance. 

Out of reflex, I attempted to close my mouth, but then felt a pair of forces crushing my head from both sides as her legs pressed me. The pain was enough to make me gasp. She took the opportunity to tighten her grip on my hair and pressed me harder. 

"That's more like it!" She started to move her body up and down, making my juice splash on my face. "Now, get that tongue of yours to work baby" She ordered and once again tightened the grip, forcing me to obey her order. 

I had to stick my tongue forward, forced to have a taste of the older woman. It was sweet and I can't stop myself from moaning from the taste of her. She also moaned at the feeling of my tongue inside her and moved faster until she cummed in my mouth. 

Just as I was about to let go of a sigh, my left leg was lifted, Agatha’s right leg sliding under it. "It is not the end yet! I still have a lot of things I want to teach your body." She pushed her hip forward, making our center meet.

I can't help but admit that it started to feel so good. The pleasure coursing through my veins like a blast of adrenaline... 

She repeated to thrush several more times, bringing our center together and making them part, and then collide again. She started to moan once again as I did the same, her hands starting to play with my breast, enjoying every contact through my body. Until my second orgasm was ripped from me this evening, followed by the beautiful temptress who laid on top of me while catching her breath from her release. 

She looked down on me in complete amusement as I lay helplessly underneath her. 

Agatha kissed the tip of my nose before sliding her warm body over me to reach something on the nightstand. When I saw what it was, my eyes grew wide as saucers... 

Oh no... please no more 

"P--please... I can't. It's too much" 

I struggled with my bonds as I tried to pull myself away from her. 

"Shhhh... I know you can. Just give mommy one more baby. I just need to taste you." 

She settled herself in between my legs, parting them by force. 

She reached between my legs and pushed something. The buzzing vibrator held against my clit sped up a notch, causing my back to arch. "Oh!" I gasped, head falling back. "Oh, oh—" 

Agatha cupped my left breast and mouthed at it, kissing and licking. I didn't know where to look but into her eyes, our foreheads practically touching on the pillow. 

I'm not sure what possessed me at the moment but I was suddenly desperate to taste her lips. 

"Kiss me," I begged. "Please..." 

And she did. Soft and sweet, holding me to her. Tugging my lip with her teeth and stroking my back, my butt. She took hold of my legs, cupping the underside of my knees. Bringing my legs around her waist, she rocked against me, teasing my lip with her tongue. 

I parted my lips for her, tasting her, sighing... Jolting when she tugged on my nipple. "Oh, ow, owie—, please don't—" 

I cried out with pleasure. This was so nice; it felt so good. 

She smiled at me. “You’ve got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, pet,” she said, reaching to touch me, pulling back the hood of my clit so she could rub me with her thumb. I shivered. “Look at this tiny clit. So fucking cute, and all mine…” 

She proceeded to slide down my body until she was face to face with my dripping warmth. 

I gasped when she started to lick me and felt my stomach twitch, surprised and excited at Agatha’s eagerness to please me. I felt her tongue trace the outline of my lower lips and shuddered. A moment later, the older woman finally slid her tongue over my clit, and that's when I felt my walls clenching in a sudden spasm, screaming in pure pleasure for the third time. Due to the intensity, I blacked out. 

_=_=_ 

A groan left my lips when I woke up in the middle of the night with a sore body. 

Slightly stretching, that's when I realized that I was no longer chained to the bed and I was all alone in the room. 

Seeing this as an opportunity to get the hell outta here I immediately grabbed my clothes that were placed on the vanity chair before frantically dressing. 

No longer caring if I was dressed right I immediately ran towards the door but stopped when it suddenly opened, revealing my fiance’s other mother, Rio Vidal dressed in her expensive suit. 

"Ri-rio..." 

"Sweethear, what are you doing here?" Rio asked as she curiously surveyed my disheveled form. 

"Rio, you have to help me, please" I pleaded as I went closer to her. 

"Why? What's wrong?" She asked as she gently held my arm. 

"It's A–agatha, she---" 

"Hello, my love! You're home early," My words were cut off as Agatha appeared from the bathroom only covered by a plush purple robe. "It seems you caught our little bunny trying to hop away." She smiled devilishly... 

Wha-what? 

"Which is quite fortunate, I wouldn't want to miss out" Rio chuckled darkly. "But I'm very disappointed that you started without me, my love." 

"Well, you were late. It's been so long since I wanted a taste of her. I lost all self-control the moment I had her in my grasp. But don't worry, I saved the best for you." 

My eyes widened in realization and I felt my whole body shiver in fear as I heard the door's lock click. Locking me inside with two predators hungry for my young flesh... 

Nonononono... this isn't happening... 

Tears started to fall from my eyes as Agatha walked over to me, and Rio’s hand settled over my shoulders in a tight and almost painful hold. 

Agatha looked down on me with a predatory grin before slowly tilting my chin with her finger to meet her eyes. 

It was so dark and full of lust that it felt like I was about to drown in it. 

"Do you know the real reason why we let our son be with someone as lowly as you? It's because the moment we saw you, we knew that we needed to have you. Our perfect little toy." My heart ached from her words. So after all this time, I was nothing but a fool. 

"So here's what will happen from now on, you will get married to my son tomorrow and officially become part of our family. You will be a good wife to him and grant him the children he desires. But behind closed doors, you will become our pretty little pet and cater to our needs. Do you understand?" I nodded weakly.

"But the most important thing is... Nicky must never know about this little arrangement of ours. This secret will stay with you until you reach your grave, or else... I'm pretty sure you are aware of the power that we hold Y/N, if you go against us, we will destroy you and your loved ones. Do I make myself clear?" Her grip on my chin tightened, emphasizing how serious she was. 

"Ye-yes" I stuttered through gritted teeth. 

Agatha's eyes moved from behind me as Rio pressed her lips to my ear as she whispered... 

"If you behave like a good little girl for us, we will reward you with anything you desire, aside from your freedom of course." 

"Since that's all settled then, I think it's time for the main event" 

"Wh-what would that be?" I fearfully asked. 

Agatha smiled at me before leaning in close, her lips almost touching mine. 

"We're going to take your virginity baby"

_=_=_

Please don't forget to like, repost, and leave a comment below. I love hearing other peoples thoughts about this. Also, if you have any good ideas for a Dark fanfic featuring mother agatha please do send it. Thanks! 💜

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (10/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, unprotected sex, smut, the angst, squirting, semi-public intimacy, description drug overdose, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Although she hadn't written him back since their rather tumultuous phone call, her uncle had tried to soothe her anger by sending her pictures and videos of Vhagar at various frames and times of the day.

Through this, in the morning she would see her owner pouring food into her bowl, ordering her to stay still, listening to her squeals of impatience, then she could see her proudly carrying a big stick between her sharp fangs, and in the evening she would listen to him recording close-up footage of her dark eyes and wet nose asking her if she had missed her, with Vhagar then licking his phone.

She knew it was wrong, but some part of her felt happy about it and waited impatiently for each new message from him, because even though she didn't write him back she knew what he meant to tell her in this way: he wanted her to understand that he thought of her every day, anytime, anywhere.

She waited impatiently for news that would doom him in her eyes definitively, words from Daemon that he had killed someone again, hurt someone again, any confirmation that he was unable to change, that there was no going back for him.

There was something touching in that realisation, in the thought that he wasn't lying when he said he cared.

They both risked keeping in touch and because of that she had to have two phone cards to avoid attracting Daemon's attention, but other than that her uncle didn't try to call her or approach her, respecting her personal space.

He, however, surprised her by calling her one afternoon while she was in class. She didn't know what to do for a moment and then left the room to the surprise of everyone gathered, apologising to her professor, saying it was an urgent matter, led away by Robb's anxious, watchful gaze.

He hadn't spoken to her since his confrontation with her uncle, and she felt bad about it, but preferred not to approach him.

She had made the mistake of telling him too much and now she had to pay for it.

She sighed heavily as she stepped out into the corridor and answered, putting her phone to her ear.

"Aemond, you can't call me. Is something wrong?" She asked simultaneously frustrated and horrified.

"I got in. I passed the exam." He said excitedly, loud and clear, like a small child boasting to his mother that he had got the best mark in the class.

She blinked and shook her head, smiling involuntarily, feeling relieved at the thought that perhaps there was still hope for him.

He was really trying.

"I'm proud of you. I really am." She confessed from the bottom of her heart, wanting him to feel appreciated, to know that this was the right path for him and that she would support him in it without looking at what he had done to her in the past.

"Let's meet to celebrate. Please." He muttered, and she felt discomfort in her stomach, her whole body tensed.

"No." She said immediately, feeling fear, thinking this was another trap, another excuse to weaken Daemon.

"Just for a moment. In a public place, in a restaurant, in a café. Wherever you want, wherever you feel safe." He insisted, a plea in his voice from which she felt a sting in her heart, longing to see him and needing to keep him at bay.

"I can't, Aemond. You know I can't. I will always support you, including about your studies, but after what has happened I can't trust you." She said in a trembling voice, wanting to be honest with him.

She felt he deserved it.

She heard him swallow hard and fell silent for a long moment, making her feel remorseful, her heart pounding like mad.

"– forgive me – I had no right to ask you to do this – it was a mistake resulting from my selfishness – thank you for everything –" He said in a tone from which she felt an unpleasant shudder of self-regret, because some part of her wanted to please him, to be with him, to be happy with him, to make love to him.

But that was not enough.

"– Aemond –" She muttered, but he hung up, leaving her with an unpleasant, uncomfortable void in her heart.

She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath, trying not to cry, thinking that she had done the right and sensible thing, that she had to look out for herself and not cross the line she had drawn for herself.

It was better for her and for him.

However, she couldn't stop the unpleasant feeling of disappointment and sadness when he didn't send her any photos or messages that day or any day after. She thought that he was punishing her in this way and that it was a painful form of manipulation on his part to which she could not react.

He wanted to break her, to force her to be with him again, to make her feel remorse and let him do what he wanted with her.

She was not going to make the same mistake.

She felt for the first time that something was wrong when her professor accosted her in the corridor.

"Your friend got the best score of all the participants in the exams, Miss Strong, but he has not yet submitted all the documents. He shouldn't delay, if he doesn't do it by Wednesday, someone else will take his place." He explained, and she swallowed hard and nodded.

"I'll pass it on to him." She muttered and as soon as she said goodbye to him, she texted him.

He, however, did not write her back either that day or the next, making her cry again through the night because of him.

Was he punishing her in this way?

Was he showing her that if she did not meet his expectations he would do nothing to change?

That her presence was supposed to be the payment for him going to University?

She thought it was terribly unfair of him and that she didn't want to know him only to send him another message in despair.

He, however, continued not to reply and she had lost hope that anything would change.

"You haven't been eating lately. What's going on?" Asked Daemon, driving with her to the supermarket to buy things for dinner.

He took her to various places under his watchful eye, trying to find her activities to keep her from sitting in her room and torturing herself with thoughts.

She swallowed hard and looked away, not wanting to talk about it or lie to his face. She heard her step-father sigh heavily at her lack of response, impatient, and he was already about to say something when suddenly his phone rang in the car.

He answered by clicking the hands-free mode, connecting directly to the car's control panel.

"Boss, there's a small problem at the Moon & Stars club. There has been an incident, someone has tried to rob the safe. We suspect it was Hightower's people, but they managed to run away. They didn't take anything."

She looked at her father, who sighed heavily, running his hand over his face.

"Do I have to do everything myself? I'll be right there." He hissed impatiently and turned off the road, heading in a completely different direction.

He didn't usually take her with him to do his business, but now apparently the matter was serious and they were too far from home to turn back.

As they went inside, Daemon pointed his finger at one of the guest lodges to her.

"Wait here for me and stay where you are. Ten minutes and I'm back. Is that clear? You can order yourself something to drink, just have them pour it by your side in a glass." He said and she nodded, having no intention of doing anything but sitting.

Old rock classics were playing all around her, posters of bands and various guitars everywhere, red and blue lights blinking all around her, tormenting her already tired eyes.

She hadn't slept well the past few nights.

"Rhaenys?" She heard someone's voice behind her and turned, surprised to see a woman in front of her, the same one she had met when Daemon had shown her what her uncle had done to Robert.

She looked at her with big eyes, confused and terrified, because no one but him had ever called her by that name.

"Alys. We've already met." She introduced herself, extending her hand to her, holding her drink in the other, and she shook it.

The woman grinned in a way she didn't like and sat down across from her, making her feel uncomfortable. She looked around, trying to spot Daemon in the crowd, tense.

"Don't be scared. I'm a friend of Aemond's and an old acquaintance of your step-father's." Alys said calmly, taking a sip of whisky from her glass.

She looked at her with her heart beating fast, playing with her fingers in a gesture of concern.

"– but –" She muttered, unsure if she wanted to know how she knew the name that only her uncle called her by.

How close friends they were.

It seemed to her that Alys saw the question written all over her face, because she grinned even wider.

"He revealed to me the name he calls you by accident. Let's just say it slipped out to him in a moment of elation because he forgot it wasn't you lying beneath him." She said softly, without a grimace of anger or frustration, as if she found it amusing.

She swallowed hard, feeling an unpleasant sting in her heart at the thought that she was having sex with him, that he was comfortable with another woman.

On the other hand, her words sounded in her ears making her grow hot.

It slipped out of him in a moment of elation because he forgot that it wasn't you lying beneath him.

Alys sighed, spreading herself out comfortably on the couch, seeing that her words had completely shocked her and she didn't know how to act.

"Don't worry. We were never in a romantic relationship. I find the fact that he is so deeply in love with someone quite charming. For a long time I didn't know who the mysterious Rhaenys was, as there was no girl in our society with that name. It wasn't until recently that I found out for what reason Aemond kept his feelings to himself. An uncle should care for his niece, but not that much, right?" She sneered, and she swallowed hard with a loud snort of air.

Was she trying to scare her?

To blackmail her?

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked horrified, making the woman raise her eyebrows high.

"I want to help. I suspect your father didn't tell you that Aemond had recently overdosed on sleep drugs." She said, and she froze, feeling herself go deaf for a moment, and everything around her stopped.

"What?"

"He's in hospital in intensive care. I found out about it from his grandfather's co-workers. Everyone is whispering about it being a suicide attempt, thinking it was because Otto decided to make Aegon his successor. But I think otherwise." She said calmly, tilting her glass, drinking its entire contents to the end in one gulp, and set it down on the table.

"When he came to talk to me last time, he talked about you. He wanted me to help him with the Larys Strong case. Fear not: we've had nothing more in common than business for over a year. Since your name slipped out of his mouth, he was no longer comfortable with this form of intimacy, which is quite understandable. I learned his sweet little secret, but honestly, looking at you, I don't blame him." She said lightly with a simultaneously heartfelt and disturbing smirk.

Their relation was deep, she thought with regret, even if they were not together.

Something in that thought saddened her, the image of their bodies entwined together.

Did he feel the same when he saw Robb?

Are you two together again?

Are you in love with him?

"It hurts you that he slept with me. That he didn't wait for you." She stated calmly, as if she had come to some obvious, ordinary conclusion. She twisted in her seat, feeling panic rising within her, her bright green eyes seeming to pierce her to the core.

"I don't know what you mean." She muttered, looking away, red with embarrassment.

"I know he hurt you. What he did to you. In a way, I admire how you endangered yourself for him having Daemon under your nose. It's tragic that you love him so much, but it's even more tragic that he reciprocates your feelings. It saddens me to see such a young, innocent girl fall down with him because of his greed." She said dryly, making her shake her head, clenching her eyes, feeling hot tears under her eyelids.

"Leave her alone, Alys. Don't mess with her head." Daemon said, grabbing her arm and lifted her upright. The black-haired woman looked at him, sighing heavily, the expression on her face not changing one bit.

"I was just offering her my condolences."

As soon as they got into the car, her step-father began his interrogation.

"What did that witch want from you? I like her, but she's a specific person and I'd rather you didn't talk to her alone." He scoffed, pulling out of the car park. She looked blankly out of the window, feeling horribly tired.

"That Aemond has overdosed and is in hospital."

Daemon rolled his eyes, impatient, and licked his lower lip.

"I didn't want to burden you even more. To make you think it's your fault. Your uncle is trying to make himself a victim."

"He killed Larys Strong for me." She muttered and heard Daemon take a deep breath, frustrated.

"Maybe he did, maybe he didn't."

"He did. Because of that rape pill. Against his grandfather's will."

"How do you know that? I forbade you to contact him. Do you want me to take your phone away from you so you'll finally wise up?"

"I don't want him to die."

Daemon fell silent and stopped at the side of the road, turning on the emergency lights. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes for a moment – they continued like that for a moment in a silence filled with tension, her fingers involuntarily tracing over the scars on her wrists.

Her reminder of what he had done to her.

"We can't help him if he doesn't want it himself. Do you understand?"

"He wants it."

"You're the only one who believes that."

"After they imprisoned me in their house, he stayed in one room with me all the time. He cried constantly, like he was a little baby. He is broken. He begged me for forgiveness."

"If he had really cared about you, he would never have done this to you."

"If your father had bequeathed in his will what was due to you to someone else, would you have left it that way?" She asked, glancing at him. Daemon shook his head, sighing heavily, shaking the dust off his trousers.

"If you cared about peace, you would have made a deal with them. My mother doesn't think justice has been done, but she remains silent for your sake. She will not stand up to you." She said coldly. Daemon looked at her with a gaze from which she froze.

"Careful now."

"Or what? You've always resented me for lying. But can you be told the truth without fear of the consequences? Do you only want to hear the kind of truth that is convenient for you?"

"Your grandfather bequeathed to your mother what he wanted in his will. Nobody forced him to do that. Do you think I'm going to give it back to them so they won't be sad? So that your poor one-eyed uncle doesn't cry? Wake up. Why do you think Viserys passed everything on to Rhaenyra? Hm? Is it because he's in love with me? Because he despised his sons? No. Because he knew that whatever he bequeathed to them, Otto would take it. He showed him that he never really trusted him and he was absolutely right."

They stared at each other in silence, the air around them so thick she felt she had trouble catching her breath. She turned her head away, feeling only fatigue, only regret.

"Take me home."

Daemon snorted and shook his head, taking off with a screech of tyres, furious.

Only money mattered, only influence, only power.

Everything else was just an obstacle to the goal.

When they got home Daemon held out his hand to her, startling her.

"Give me your phone."

She pressed her lips together, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad in rage.

"No."

She saw her step-father smack the inside of her cheek with the tip of his tongue, standing with his hand stretched out in front of him.

"I don't like repeating myself."

"No."

"Should I call your mother? Are you going to tell her that you talk to your uncle and what you do with him in your free time?" He sneered, making her feel a squeeze in her throat. "Come to your senses."

"Tell her what you want. I don't care." She said dryly and moved ahead, running upstairs to her room.

She locked herself in the bathroom and changed the card in her phone, looking in her contacts for Helaena's old number, the one she'd given her when they were still little girls, praying she'd answer.

"Hello?" She heard her soft voice on the other end and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hi. I'm sorry to bother you. I know Aemond is in hospital. He's passed his university exam, but the deadline for submitting his documents is today. They should be in his flat in the envelope he got from the University. Are you able to fill them out and bring them to the Archaeology Department tomorrow?" She asked in a whisper, afraid that someone outside would hear her conversation.

"Oh. Okay. Okay, I'll try." She muttered, and she breathed out heavily, feeling relieved.

"Thank you. How is he?" She asked quickly.

"He's still not awake, but his condition is stable. The worst is behind us. Our mum tried to call him but he didn't answer, so she drove there to see what had happened. Thank goodness she had spare keys to his flat."

The next day she set it as a point of honour to convince her professor and dean, appearing with Helaena, that the situation was exceptional and procedures could be bent in this situation.

"I didn't know my friend was in hospital. It happened suddenly and for this reason he could not bring the documents yesterday, which however his sister has with her today."

"We cannot accept them without his signature." Said the dean, making her feel an unpleasant discomfort in her stomach at the thought that her uncle would wake up only to find that his chance was gone.

"I ask for your understanding in this unique situation. He is unconscious at the moment and fighting for his life. As soon as he is able, he will come to sign the documents in person. The professor told me that he passed the exam with the best result. He's been through a lot and I don't want his work to be in vain." She said, and the man sighed heavily and nodded.

"Very well. But as soon as he is able, he is to appear here immediately and explain to me in person."

She sent him another message that same day, knowing from Helaena that he was finally awake and that nothing was threatening his life anymore.

He, however, did not write her back.

Was it because of her that he had done this to himself?

Was it because she had not met him?

She felt anger and remorse at the same time, but mostly she was relieved that he was still alive.

Lying alone in bed late at night, she thought she would go mad if she didn't find out why he had done it, so in a gesture of despair she decided to call him to find out how he felt.

She shuddered when she heard him pick up, but he was quiet, complete silence on the other end of the receiver.

"How are you feeling?" She asked softly, wondering if she was about to hear a litany from him about how much he had suffered because of her, that he didn't want to live because of her.

Would he try to manipulate her with remorse.

"Exactly as I deserve."

She swallowed hard, completely not expecting such an answer, not knowing what to make of his words.

Exactly as I deserve.

She lowered her gaze, playing with her duvet between her fingers, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

"Did you… really want to do this?" She muttered, dreading his answer, and he laughed, as if something in her question amused him for some reason.

"No. I wanted to see how you felt that day."

She froze, feeling her breath get stuck in her lungs, her eyebrows arching in pain at his words.

"Your suffering is not my desire, Aemond. You hurt me, but I don't want revenge. I just want… to stop feeling this unbearable pain in my heart that I have felt in my chest for eight years." She muttered, simultaneously wanting to see him again and forget him, to run away from him and let herself be locked in his arms once more.

"I regret it so much. I told my grandfather that I didn't want him to involve you, but he said that if we didn't, someone else would want to take advantage of Daemon's weakness for you. And I believed him. I thought that Larys will actually try to do something to you again, but only now do I understand that it was a simple lie that I easily accepted to justify myself. Fuck, I'm so ashamed, baby, I really am." He choked out with difficulty, whooping with tears, making her freeze completely, just listening to him.

"My father took everything from me. I did these fucked-up things to other people for nothing. I mutilated them for nothing. The only thing he left me is the property by the sea, the same one where I lost my eye, as if he had made a mockery of me. I was so lost. I still am."

She swallowed hard, staring dully ahead, feeling as one by one tears ran down her face.

Some part of her understood him, knew how hurt and disappointed he must have been, but another couldn't forgive him for somehow using her to get revenge on Daemon and her mother.

She felt like her head was going to burst.

"What do you want, Aemond? Truly. Be honest." She asked, impatient, and heard him swallow heavily.

"I want to study and see you once in a while. In a public place, so that you feel safe."

She pressed her lips together at his words, feeling the heat in her stomach and chest, for which she rebuked herself in spirit, trying to remain sober in her mind.

"And that's it? What about your family? About your business?"

"My grandfather limited my influence and responsibilities after I shot Larys without his knowledge. He no longer trusts me and doesn't assign me important tasks."

It was only then that she understood why he had actually overdosed.

He had lost his business.

He had lost his grandfather's respect.

He had lost her.

He was alone, exactly as he was then.

His face contorted in pain and despair, his red cheeks flooded with tears, his eyes closed and his hands clenched into fists then, as he stood up to his waist in the sea water, alone and terrified.

"The University Library." She said feeling that she had made up her mind.

"I don't understand."

"We can meet in the University Library."

"Really?" He asked excitedly, as if she had given him a wonderful surprise, and she swallowed hard, feeling a tightness in her throat.

"Only there and for a short time. Once in a while. If I find out you did something to hurt me or my family, you'll never see me again."

She didn't care about their business, their money, their eternal need to prove to themselves who was in charge of this town.

She just wanted her friend back.

The next day she turned up at the agreed place all tense, hiding her little pocket knife in her bra beforehand, afraid that he would trick her again.

That he would betray her again.

So many emotions were rattling through her head that her hands were shaking and although she tried to concentrate on reading her textbook, she couldn't. When she heard the sound of the door opening and raised her head from the book, she drew in a breath, seeing his silhouette emerge from behind the bookcases.

He stood still, as if petrified, his eyes and mouth opened wide.

"Hi." He muttered as if choking.

"Hi." She replied, looking at him watchfully, ready to run away.

She swallowed hard as he simply pulled off his leather jacket and sat down next to her on the big, soft cushions.

Afraid of how much her heart was pounding, how euphoric she felt at the sight of him, she decided to turn her thoughts away from that and get to the point, pulling from her backpack her notebooks that she had brought for him.

"I brought you my notes from first year. Read them, if you can't decipher something, I'll try to guess what I wrote. They'll come in handy for you before semester exams." She said indifferently, handing them to him one by one. He nodded and swallowed hard, taking them from her, clearly not knowing how to act.

"Thank you."

Having no idea what more she could say, she leaned back and sank into reading her textbook again, afraid to look at him, afraid of what she would see in his gaze.

She shuddered and took a breath as he lay down beside her and put his head on her shoulder, exactly as she had done when they had read books together as small children.

She pressed her lips into a thin line, feeling tears squeeze into her eyes at this tender memory.

He heard her uneven breath, his moist, soft lips brushed her neck as his hand touched her waist, locking her in a warm embrace that felt too good, too safe.

No.

"– please –" She muttered, but didn't have time to say anything else because he interrupted her.

"– I have a gift for you –" He said, surprising her completely, taking out a rose-shaped red lollipop from his pocket after a moment. "– I didn't know what kind of flowers you like, so I bought one like this – the sales lady said it has a strawberry flavour –"

She felt touched and at the same time pained at the thought of how sweet and thoughtful this gift was. She took it from him, turning it in her fingers, no longer able to remember the last time anyone had given her something without an occasion to just make her smile.

"I'll eat it later. I don't want to get the books dirty now. Thank you, that's very kind of you." She said softly, putting the lollipop aside, and he nodded, his face pressed against her cheek as his fingers ran slowly over her face.

For some reason she didn't understand when he leaned back, her body followed him, laying next to him on the soft material. She let his arm draw her closer, his hand combing through her hair as her fingers touched his chest.

He nuzzled her face into the hollow of his neck, and she closed her eyes, smelling the pleasant scent of his aftershave and his masculine perfume, making a wonderful warmth spill over her lower abdomen.

"Several of my father's men are dead. They were shot on your grandfather's orders." She whispered, not wanting to forget who he was or what he had done.

She heard him sigh quietly, his fingers trailing over her head and down her back, playing with the curls of her hair.

Why did she feel so surprisingly safe in his arms, why was she so relaxed, so calm, why did her chest fill with some strange, unnatural relief?

"I know."

"Did you have anything to do with it?"

"No. My grandfather restricted my field of action after we called the emergency services when you…" He didn't finish, and she swallowed hard, knowing what he meant.

She decided she had to ask him this question, even though she was so afraid of his answer.

"If your grandfather tells you to kill Daemon or my brother. What will you do then?"

To her surprise, he seemed to have expected her to ask him this, for he answered almost immediately, without hesitation or uncertainty in his voice.

"I will tell him to do it himself. The times when I was his dog are over and he knows it. He has no idea what to do with me. I'm out of his control."

Something in his words, in the confidence with which they left his throat made her feel hot in her heart. She lifted herself up on her arm, wanting to look at his face, knowing that even if his lips lied to her, she would see the truth in the look of his healthy eye.

"What's your plan?"

Her uncle hummed under his breath, his hand from her neck sliding down between her breasts, trailing along the buttons of her dress, making a hot shiver run down her spine.

He was doing this on purpose, she thought.

"I want to start acting on my own." He said cautiously and looked at her with a glint in his eye that she didn't like.

"What do you mean?" She muttered involuntarily.

"If you think there's a way I could escape this world, you're wrong. Even Daemon didn't escaped it, he simply gathered his most trusted people and expanded his influence. I want to do the same, and I will start by taking over Heavenly Beach. Since Larys is dead, chaos has reigned there, and I intend to take advantage of it. Many of my grandfather's people don't like the vision of them having to work for Aegon in the future. They neither respect nor fear him." He sneered, saying the words as if he was proud of himself.

She stared at him in disbelief, not expecting such a response from him, the fact that he would dare to think of cutting himself off from his grandfather, of breaking away from his leash.

His words surprised her so much that she didn't know what to say, what she felt, what she thought about what she had just heard.

She shuddered, snapped out of her reverie when his finger tapped her breast where her pocket knife was tucked under her bra, feeling the cold sweat on her back at the thought of him noticing it.

"– wise girl –" He hummed, using this as an excuse to tease her through the material of her dress, rubbing the spot under where he knew her nipple was.

She swallowed loudly, feeling a wave of pleasurable heat surge through her entire body, the place between her thighs pulsed painfully hard, embarrassingly wet and eager for him not to stop.

She thought she would not give him that satisfaction.

"What do you intend to do with my step-father?" She asked in a trembling voice, and he looked at her with a smirk, shamelessly closing his hand on her breast again and again, no longer even pretending that he meant anything other than to feel her.

"Nothing. I won't attack him first. For you. He has nothing to do with Heavenly Beach." He muttered, spreading himself more comfortably on the cushion, already focusing only on where his hand was and what it was doing to her. She shuddered as another wave of tickling pleasure and tension shook her loins, her fingers involuntarily clenching on his wrist.

"– stop – someone will see –" She mumbled, looking around, terrified that Robb or anyone else who knew her might see them.

"I want it back." He whispered. "I want what we had during that summer."

She swallowed heavily, looking up at him in shock, feeling her heart get stuck in her throat and stop beating for a second.

I want it back.

I want what we had during that summer.

His words, so childish, simple and ill-considered were too painfully honest for her, his gaze hot and thirsty, full of what he was speaking of.

"I…God, after all, you know it won't work. We can't. No one will accept it, no one will understand. We'll be miserable again." She whispered pleadingly, shaking her head, unable to even imagine what it would look like.

To him, however, it clearly didn't matter anymore, and that shocked her the most.

"If you don't want it, I'll understand it. What I desire is fucked up, like my whole person. But I want you to know that what happened between us… then, when my father died. It was real. I've never felt more alive and fulfilled than then, being deep inside you. You were so warm." He said, running his thumb over the soft skin of her cheek, making her turn all red at his words, her cunt all slick from her moisture clenched greedily around nothing.

"Aemond." She mumbled in embarrassment, involuntarily feeling him inside her again, the thrusts of his hips forcing him deep, deep into her delicate flesh.

"I don't care how wrong it is. I don't care about morality. I've done far less moral things to other people. Making love to my niece seems to me the smallest of my sins." He confessed, sinking his hand into her hair, looking at her in a way that made her want to cry.

Making love to my niece seems to me the smallest of my sins.

Making love.

"Someone might say it's disgusting and wrong, but I only care about what you want. I don't give a shit about others. What they will think of me, whether I live by their rules or not. What can they do to me? Mock me? Fear me? They are already do. It's not about me, it's about you. I don't want to ruin your life."

She burst out crying at his words, because although he had hurt her so much, some sick part of her had longed to hear it for eight years. She moaned quietly as his lips began to place quick, helpless kisses on her face, his wide hands enclosing her in his embrace, trying to comfort her.

But she knew there was no comfort for them.

There was no future for them.

"– please – please, I don't want you to cry because of me –"

"This is just too much. I wish I could be a child again. To go back to that sea. To fall asleep next to you in that room. I wish I could feel again the peace I felt then. Your presence next to me. But I can't have it." She mumbled, choking on her own tears, involuntarily seeking relief in his proximity, feeling grief at the thought that he could not be the strange man she was allowed to love.

"You have it. You have me. You always had."

She looked up at him and froze, breathing hard, looking straight into his eyes, one empty and dead, the other filled with the hot affection she so feared.

"Do you like me?" He asked, and she blinked, not understanding what he meant. She nodded, however, wanting him to know that no matter how hard she tried, she was incapable of hating him.

"Very much?" He continued and smiled as she nodded again, breathing loudly through her mouth, trying to calm the convulsions of her body.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

What?

The two of them, then, by the sea, walking side by side, the white shells in her hand, his soft, moist lips that evening on hers, his warm embrace as she lay snuggled into his body at night, in his room, in his bed.

"This time I'm aware of what I'm asking for. What I want. And although I should, I'm not ashamed of it. I have wasted eight years that I could have spent with you, no matter how much we would both have suffered during that time. I want to suffer with you by my side now." He whispered, tucking an unruly strand of her hair behind her ear in a gesture so tender that her voice stuck in her throat.

"I wish I could trust you, but I don't know if I can." She muttered with difficulty.

His eyebrows arched in pain at her words.

"I know. I'll wait as long as it takes." He whispered, his broad, warm hand running over her cheek.

I'll wait as long as it takes.

She was terrified by the fact that everything inside her screamed that she wanted him back.

She wanted him to be close.

She wanted him to touch her.

She wanted him to love her.

"You can only embrace me and hold my hand. No kisses on the lips and don't try to take me." She muttered, to her surprise instead of shame feeling relieved.

Against everything and everyone, morals and good manners, everything she valued in life.

They were together.

To her simultaneous annoyance and delight, her uncle took her words very loosely: he didn't kiss her lips and his hands didn't go near the area of her panties, but over the following weeks, when they met in secret in the library, his fingers travelled over every other part of her body.

She deliberately stopped wearing a bra, knowing that the thought that someone might have noticed her nipples under her T-shirt drove him to fury.

As she spread herself comfortably between his thighs with her textbook that they were reading together, satisfaction filled her body as she felt his hard manhood pushing greedily against her buttocks, his hand in some subconscious motion slipping under the material, enclosing itself on her soft, plump breast.

"– you are doing this on purpose –" He breathed out into her ear, rolling his hips back and forth, rubbing his throbbing length against the space between her buttocks, trailing his lips down her long neck, leaving wet, sticky marks on her bare skin. "– you let others look at what is mine – you punish me –"

She sighed, closing her eyes, tilting her head back so that she rested it on his shoulder, showing him grace – she clenched her thighs involuntarily, feeling a wonderful pulsing between them as his lips sank greedily into the hollow of her neck, her hand clamped down on his wrist, encouraging him not to stop.

"– let me look at them – take pity on me –" He exhaled, completely losing interest in reading, kneading the silken, smooth structure of her breast with his fingers as his other hand slid down to her bare thigh, stroking it affectionately.

"– we can't – someone will see us –" She muttered, her breath heavy and deep, her whole body hot and tense from the waves of tickling, overpowering pleasure, his hands, his scent, his closeness driving her mad.

It always ended the same way.

"– there are no cameras here – please – I haven't seen you all week – I've been good, haven't I? – hm? –" He gasped, and she swallowed hard at the thought of what he had done.

He, accompanied by Criston Cole and a handful of trusted men, had carried out attacks on all of the clubs owned by Larys Strong at once, taking over the entirety of his inheritance, depriving his grandfather of half of his trusted associates.

An expression of their displeasure at having nominated Aegon as his successor.

Daemon was shocked by this turn of events, having enemies on two fronts wondering, in fact, whether to respond to her uncle's offer to make a deal.

Aemond could have given Daemon the advantage over Otto that he so needed.

It was probably only the chaos and what was going on around him that made Daemon not ask her why she was going to the library in the middle of the summer, thinking apparently that she was trying to escape from what was going on around her that way.

It was partly true.

She knew that her boyfriend's conciliatory attitude was not because he had suddenly fallen in love with her step-father or brother, but because he wanted her, and she had the power to reward him for being faithful to her and for keeping his promises.

It was a dangerous game and they both knew it.

She sighed and turned in his embrace, sitting down on top of him, pulling her Tshirt over her head without much finesse. Her uncle froze for a moment, staring at the sight before him, his swollen erection beneath her pulsed hard again and again.

She decided to tease him a little and began to rock her hips back and forth, pressing down on what was beneath her, a muffled, low groan came from his throat.

"– fuck –" He mumbled, stroking her naked waist, watching her bare silhouette as if he were staring at something sacred that he held in reverence, for a moment afraid to touch her as he desired.

She rested her hands on his chest as he began to roll his hips, and after a moment he leaned in, sinking his face between her soft breasts.

"– ah –" She sighed, tilting her head back in pleasure, feeling her swollen pussy throb around nothing as his slick tongue ran over her sternum.

Her fingers combed through his short hair as his face moved slightly to the side, blindly searching for her nipple, around which his puffy lips clamped down after a moment, beginning to suck.

"– Aemond –" She mumbled, snuggling his head closer to her chest, involuntarily wanting to feel him harder, closer, deeper, the sweat of exertion and emotion trickling down her bare spine.

His face pressed against her breasts, his lips and tongue sucking and licking her nipples were the furthest form of their intimacy, something lewd and wonderful at the same time, a perpetual torment with no possibility of fulfilment.

"– fuck, let me – please – just this once –" He exhaled wearily, switching from one breast to the other, squeezing it between his fingers, directing her hard, sensitive nipple to his lips, which he clamped around it.

Shivers and waves of delightful tension shook her whole body making her mind all foggy, the space between her thighs all throbbing and moist, ready to welcome him deep inside her.

She rose suddenly from her knees, grabbing the material of her T-shirt, putting it over her head as if nothing had happened, feeling a drop of her own wetness run down her thighs.

"– baby –" He muttered, touching her bare leg, trying to stop her, desperate and thirsty.

"– next week Professor Addams is organising a private excavations two hours away from our town – it's a site in one of the medieval fortresses of our region, very important and he needs volunteers – I've offered to let you come and to count it as your student practices, so that you would have to make up less of them during the academic year – professor will rent rooms for all of us in a hotel nearby – if you come and do your best, I'll let you sleep with me –" She said lightly, looking at him over her shoulder, knowing how ambiguous her words sounded and that was exactly what she meant.

She saw him swallow hard, looking at her with wide eyes, his erection twiched hard in his trousers.

"– do you mean it? –" He mumbled in a trembling voice, as if the very thought made him faint.

"– yes, but it's two weeks – you'd then either have to give up your job, or drive to do your errands at night and come back in the morning –" She explained, taking her backpack in her hand, getting up from the ground.

He stood up with her, grabbing her aggressively around the waist, her body slamming against his.

"– promise me –" He whispered in a trembling voice into her ear, making her leaking pussy clench hard around nothing.

He groaned when, instead of words, her lips found his in a loud, deep kiss that took his breath away. His fingers clenched on her hair, not allowing her to move away, her tongue thrust deep between his teeth with his loud sigh of delight, colliding with his, which she licked invitingly.

She pushed him away and stepped back, trying to calm herself, in his healthy eye a heat and madness she had never seen before in her life.

He was on the verge of fucking her right here and now, ripping off her shorts and panties and slamming into her on the cold library floor.

She wouldn't stand up to him, and her moist cunt would gladly accept him deep inside her.

But he didn't know that.

"– I'll write you all the details later – take it seriously –" She mumbled, having increasing trouble pretending indifference and that she felt nothing for him.

He nodded his head like a small child and she gave him one comforting smile.

"– I love you –" He muttered in a trembling voice, and she felt a twinge in her stomach at his words, her heart filling with heat.

"– I love you too –" She finally confessed with shame, feeling her voice break. He pressed his lips together as if he wanted to cry, his eyebrows arched in pain.

"– I need you – please –"

"– be there –" She mumbled pleadingly and turned away, moving towards the exit, afraid that if she stayed with him a moment longer, she would finally give in to him.

Daemon was not happy with the idea of her leaving for so long.

"– the situation is still tense – someone of my people would have to be there with you –" He said.

"It's an archaeological excavations. I need a change of environment. I've been answering your every call for the last few months. I'm tired. I want to get away from what's going on and earn some money. Drive me there yourself if you're afraid I'm lying. You can call my professor, he will confirm that I have expressed my willingness to go with him again as his assistant. He's a good man. We'll sit in research all day and at night in a hotel."

"In what hotel? I need to know." He said impatiently.

"There is only one small hotel in this village on the main street." She explained, and her father sighed heavily.

"Please. This fortress is an important site. These excavations will count as practices, that way I won't have to do so many of them during the academic year. I haven't even swum in the lake this year, I just want to be alone for a while and do what I really enjoy."

Her stepfather sighed heavily and nodded.

"So be it. But I'll drive you away personally."

The next day she decided to text him to set things up.

Fuck.

She sighed heavily when he didn't write back then or the next day, clearly furious at the thought of having to look at her ex's face, but there was nothing she could do about it.

When Daemon drove her there he personally inspected her hotel room and furrowed his brow when he saw two single beds in it, not one.

"Who are you going to spend the night with?" He asked dryly.

"Certainly with some female friend." She shrugged her shoulders, placing her bags on the floor, feigning indifference.

She found with concern that lying to him was coming more and more easily to her.

He sighed and nodded.

"Report to me every day: text me or your mother in the morning and evening that you are fine. If you don't, I'll come here personally." He said warningly, and she smiled in his direction and nodded, for some reason happy.

She would spend a two weeks with him.

"Okay, Dad."

Daemon liked it when she called him that.

His gaze softened and he left her alone, throwing over his shoulder that she should watch over herself and not do anything stupid.

Too late, she thought with amusement.

She was joyful, and the sight of herself smiling in the mirror seemed unnatural to her.

She was certain that this happy little girl had died a few years ago.

She waited two hours to be sure her step-father is far away and went out into the corridor, looking for her professor. She wanted to inform him that she would be spending the night in a room with her boyfriend, while texting her uncle that Daemon had already left and he could enter the building in peace.

As she had found out from one of the students, their professor was overseeing the setting up of equipment and research tents near the site where they were to carry out the excavation, so that's where she went.

The sight of Robb among several other people she knew well did not fill her with optimism.

Her ex-boyfriend lowered his gaze as she approached their professor, who was just talking to one of the museum workers from the fortress they were about to research. Professor Addams smiled at the sight of her.

"Miss Strong! It is wonderful that you have made it. Will your friend also arrive as planned?" He asked lightly, and Robb looked at them surprised, tense.

"Yes, my boyfriend will be here soon. I also wanted to ask if he could spend the night in my room. We'll both be more comfortable that way." She said without stammering, making her ex-boyfriend turn pale and red all at the same time.

Their professor laughed and nodded.

"It's your room and you're adults after all. Just remember to focus on work, not dating." He said and she smiled involuntarily, casting a defiant glance at the boy she once thought would change her life.

"We will, Professor."

She turned as she heard someone's footsteps and beamed all over as she saw her uncle, clearly terrified and excited, throwing a menacing, displeased look at Robb.

"Speak of the devil. Today we'll just set up the equipment and figure out the details, work will start tomorrow. Everyone is to be here at eight in the morning right after breakfast. Get some shopping done at a nearby supermarket and get a good night's sleep." Their professor said.

She knew that surely the last thing awaiting her that night was sleep.

She was not mistaken – the moment they crossed the threshold of their room her uncle literally threw himself at her.

There was something animal and primal in the way he tore off her clothes, in his gaze black with desire, in his loud, heavy breath as he finally exposed her entire naked body, something he should never see, should never desire, should never have.

And yet.

For a moment he just stared at her, breathing loudly, as if he wanted to remember this moment, her, exposed beneath him – his hand ran slowly over her cheek, along her jawline and neck, sliding down between her breasts to her stomach.

It seemed obvious to her that the time for quiet, slow, tender lovemaking would come later, once the sun had set, once they were both just writhing in each other's embrace, unable to separate.

Now, however, they were hot with desire that burned their skin, and his lips, swollen with lust, after a moment clamped down on her hard, sensitive nipple, sucking on it as greedily as if there was no tomorrow to come.

She moaned loudly, too loudly when his fingers slid down her stomach, deep between her thighs, finding her hot, throbbing, leaking pussy at last, her hands pressing his face to her chest.

"– I hate that son of a bitch – I hate the way he looks at you – as if he's the one who wants to protect you – as if he's the one who knows what you need – bullshit –" He hissed furiously between the licks of his tongue, the tips of his fingers digging into the silky, moist skin of her swollen folds.

She whimpered, spreading her thighs wider, feeling the arousal fill her belly at the thought of how jealous he was of her.

Even when he was with another woman, he dreamt that she was the one lying beneath him.

She could not allow him to doubt the depth of her feelings, to doubt her intention or her fidelity.

"– I don't care about him, uncle – you can kiss me in his presence if that's what you want –" She cooed innocently, looking up at him with her lips parted in deep breaths, his dark gaze clouded and filled with something that sent a shiver through her.

He pulled away from her, as if her words had brought him to an edge from which there was no turning back, his nimble fingers quickly undoing the belt from his trousers and his zipper.

All she could do was, in a natural, simple reflex, spread her thighs even wider in front of him and entwine her legs on his back as he leaned down, sliding the material of his boxers lower, releasing his throbbing, fat erection.

Holding the base of his cock in his hand he guided the thick, pink head of it, leaking from his precum, onto her heat, teasing it, soaking his manhood in her wetness to use it as a lube.

"– may I? –" He asked in a trembling voice, leaning on his elbow right next to her head, and she nodded quickly, not knowing what else she could say.

"– ah –" She gasped along with him, running her fingers through the fabric of his t-shirt on his back as he sank into her with one, slow, sure thrust.

He slid into her with astonishing ease, and her slickness made him start to move inside her immediately, as if the warmth of her clenching walls had awakened some primal instinct in him, ordering him to just take what he wanted.

Nothing more than whimpers and grunts escaped their lips as their hips began to slam against each other with loud clicks of her wetness, his erection so fat and swollen that she barely fit it inside her, his forehead pressed against her.

His scent, his neck into which she snuggled her face as he thrust into her again and again with lewd slaps, his body lying on top of her, all of it was so familiar, so longed for.

"– Aemond –" She breathed out, tilting her head back, enclosing him in the helpless embrace of her body, feeling him with her whole self at last, connecting with him the way she had always wanted to, the bed beneath them creaking loudly.

"– fuck – fuck, baby – I missed you –" He mumbled with difficulty, quickening his pace, with each push rubbing the tip of his erection against the spot inside her from where she could see the stars.

"– I missed you too –" She confessed in shame, listening to the perverted sound of him opening her wide on his cock with wet clicks of her moisture.

He surprised her when he suddenly took her legs in his hands, forcing her to take a new position, putting her knees on his shoulders.

She moaned in shock as he began to move inside her anew with a loud slaps of their hips, feeling a flash of pleasure flow through her body again and again.

Her insides began to squeeze his manhood in delight, pulling high pitched, boyish moans of pleasure from his throat, his lips parted wide, his brow arched as if he was in pain.

"– you're so beautiful – I love you – I love you, I love you, I love you –" He exhaled, no longer sliding out of her, all sticky from her moisture, invading her insides with violent, sharp, quick stabs from which she threw her head back.

"– Aemond, God, yes, yes, yes, here, fuck me here, ah –" She mewled, writhing beneath him in ecstasy, feeling the tension in her lower abdomen and her throbbing pussy about to reach its peak.

He leaned over her, pressing her body against the bed with her own thighs in a position where her calves were at the level of her head.

She clenched her fingers against his back, moaning helplessly as she felt the pressure on her clit from which tears pooled under her eyelids, each successive thrust of his hips sending her body into a state of ecstasy which forced him to close her mouth with his.

"– shhh – shhh, baby, not so loud – mmm – I know – your uncle is close too –" He breathed out into her throat between loud, sticky kisses full of their slick tongues, hearing her squeal of pleasure.

Tears of relief ran down her cheeks red from exertion as her body was shaken by such a powerful orgasm that she just burst out crying.

She heard his loud moans and panting, felt how aggressively his cock pulsed inside her, filling her with his release, how their bodies convulsed as a wave of her moisture flowed out of her, so much that they both drew in air loudly, his face pressed against her hot cheek.

"– 'm sorry –" She muttered embarrassed, not fully understanding what had happened, the wet, large stain under her buttocks made her uncomfortable.

"– it's okay – it's okay, baby – it's okay –" He whispered tenderly, placing loud, sticky kisses on her face.

"– uh – what have you done to me? – we'll have to change the sheets now –" She sighed, combing her fingers through his short hair in an attempt to calm herself, the last waves of pleasant warmth and tickling flowed through her body, putting her in a state of perfect bliss.

She dropped her legs lower, returning to her original position, allowing him to lie between her thighs and she squirmed when he suddenly lifted her by the buttocks and stood up with her.

"– don't worry – we'll just sleep on the other bed – see? –" He hummed, heading with her towards the single bed on the other side, laying down on his back with a sigh of exertion.

She spread herself comfortably on top of him, placing her palm on his shoulder, letting his hands wander over her bare body.

"– can I stay inside you? – you're so warm –" He mumbled like a little boy, and she nodded, dreaming of nothing else.

"– yes –" She whispered, lying with her eyes closed, concentrating on the smell of his perfume and his sweat, his soft manhood still pulsing deep inside her.

She heard him let out a loud breath, something like delight and relief in his words.

"– this is the most beautiful day of my life –"

______

Author notes: You can thank my husband for the last scene, lol. He did things to me.

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: now branching into Tyrone. watched the movie a year ago, but now I'm writing! <3

TRAPPED. | JOHN BOYEGA.

Plug! Toxic! Tyrone x Black! Female Reader.

Warnings: MDNI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( you're being recorded! penetrat!on (unprotected p in v, don't do that!), breath play, water sports, slapping/hitting, degradation, he finishes on your face ), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight daddy kink if you squint. Tyrone's the plug! Mentions of a Glock. Not proofread.

Summary: in which Tyrone stakes his claim on you, for another to view.

girl, it's all over your face, there's someone taking my place,

guess that's something that I'm dealing with now.

Tyrone's face contorted into one of complete irritation as you babbled on and on about how he shouldn't be concerned about what you were doing, posting on social media, seeing other people—all because you were broken up. His top lip quirked up, his head tilted and eyes narrowed as he stared blankly at you.

Even in the heat of your rant he looked so good. Too good. Coming to your house looking way too good hair freshly braided (and who was playing in his hair, cause it surely hadn't been you). The spider branded sweatpants slouching off his frame just a bit, the mismatched black tee he accompanied with it, risen just a bit to where you could see the waistband of his Jockey branded boxers, handle of his peanut butter block exposed. Only big dick niggas wore Jockeys. But that wasn't your aim today.

"- you so worried about what I'm doing! Worry about you, last time I checked you had so many bitches in them instagram comments," you rambled on, giving away your indifferent facade, you'd stalked his socials just a little bit in the midst of your four week break up, so what. "Not to mention, them thirsty ass hoes in your messages, 'bring me a three five,' " you mocked the recantation of the text message in a high pitched voice before rolling your eyes, "whole time you probably was over there droppin' dick off."

Tyrone kissed his teeth in response to your drawn out rant, your words falling on deaf ears, you knew what he was here for. "Man, you' talkin' bout some whole other shit I don't care about," he bluntly replied, "is you fuckin' that nigga or what?"

"Who?" You chirped, furrowing your brows. Playing your little coy act. You didn't need to ask who, you knew you weren't fucking anybody. This toxic, exhausting, and dare you admit, exhilarating roller coaster you and Tyrone stayed on wasn't near over, and you didn't get get back in giving your pussy away. But, you did like to make him sweat.

Who was Issac, of course. Isaac was his most sworn opp, and even though it was surely fucked up for you to even politic with this man—this cycle of toxicity had you doing the most obscene things to be seen. Of course his homeboys had seen you, you'd damn near made it obvious. Hopping out of his blacked out GMC Terrain in the middle of downtown, with a pink ruffled mini skirt that barely covered your ass, and a crop top with the words Ed Hardy sprawled across the top, paired with the expensive sneakers you'd asked Tyrone to buy you. You were wearing shit he bought you, on a date with a different nigga. His opp. That shit was a violation in itself.

His homies wasted no time in being absolutely federal, taking pictures and even starting a verbal confrontation with Isaac when you left the restaurant. It was only dinner for you. You weren't the slightest bit interested in Isaac—this was mostly for the anger of Tyrone, all the chaos he'd put you through with different women you seen in his phone, this was his payback. But, you couldn't deny that the attention felt nice. Still, you compared Isaac to Tyrone on a daily.

But you wouldn't tell him that. Right now, you were in some toxic shit of your own. The back and forth cycle between you two was a normality now, and your circle of friends and family knew that too. One day the both of you'd be walking around, saying fuck one another, and the next day ducked off, fucking one another.

"Fuck you keep playin' with me for?" He asked inching closer toward you, his hands clasped together in front of you. He was so sexy like this, intimidating and fuming. Damn, you were such a slut for shit like this. You ignored the throbbing in your pussy at the edge in his voice. "You know who I'm talkin' about. You runnin' round with the opps doin' weird ass shit with this lame ass nigga."

"Now I'm doing weird shit, but it wasn't weird when you were leaving the house at four in the morning talkin' about plays," you emphasized, using your fingers for air quotations, "but really you was goin' to see bitches."

"Is you fuckin' this nigga or not?" He simply repeated, not even giving a single reply to the accusations you posed against him. Had any of the shit you spurred out been true—you wouldn't even be here, allowing him the liberty of being in your apartment, in your space.

Everybody knew Tyrone was a charmer, a ladies man by default, bitches loved watching him pull up in that bright red Camaro, engine rumbling, him making quick small talk while he waited on an impending cashapp from his customers—a nice portion of his patrons being women.

But he wasn't a cheater. Not in the slightest. He had a flirty personality sure, but he knew boundaries and he never allowed bitches to feel comfortable enough to even think they had a one up on you.

The messages you read in his phone, prior to your breakup told a different story though. A couple of women felt a little too comfortable, nobody should've been texting your man about weed at close to four in the morning. And no amount of money, should've coaxed this man to leave your bed.

He'd been coaxed out of his slumber by your constant tossing and turning and angry muttering. Which then prompted a huge argument when he decided to ask what the problem was, only for you to boldly expose what you found in his phone, to which he angrily asked you why you felt the need to look through his shit. That prompted more angry yelling, and years of frustration from you, because why was your man yelling at you? And that led to Tyrone, breaking things off once again.

One thing was clear and true about the both of you, you'd both never experienced healthy relationships. Insecurities, and immaturity clouded your relationship, and nearly made it impossible to have any sense of stability and healthiness in your relationship.

However, the two of you were dangerously enthralled with one another. The toxic bond you two shared made it impossible to just break away. No contact for the two of you, was constant contact. Who could make who jealous? Who could make who cave first? There was never not any contact. Whether it be subs on social media, or persistent angry text messages.

Still, you wanted to carry this on. Wanted to see how far you could really push him. Couldn't he see that you'd done all this because you missed him? How desperately you wanted his attention you dabbled with his enemy in public? It was a power move on your end, he had to cave first. And just as you suspected, he did.

Shrugging your shoulders you avoided his impending gaze, "I don't see how that's any of your concern." You bleakly murmured.

But it was all of his concern. That much was evident when you found yourself sandwiched between him and your creaking mattress. His mushroomed tip plunging constantly against the spongy spot right in the back of pussy, that spot he hit every time he bottomed out. His strokes were deep and rushed, the absence of hesitance in his strokes showed you that he missed you the same. " 'm so wet daddy," you mewled, lowered eyes glancing back and forth between your sopping pussy, squelching and leaking all over his dick, and him watching you earnestly on the iPhone camera he was recording on.

You couldn't care less about that fucking camera, way too blissfully fucked out to care about whatever he planned to do with that video. And neither did he as he continued his assault on your spasmodic pussy, slight rushed breathing and grunts letting you know he was enjoying this just as much as you. His left hand came down to press on your lower tummy to hold your squirming body in place, the pressure seemingly weakened your bladder, the loud sound of your arousal splashing around his dick filled your ears, drowning out your pretty, drawn out moans. Tears brimmed in your low eyes at how good you were feeling, the curve in his dick continually attacking that same spot in you. "Missed you so much, daddy." You whimpered.

"fuck up," he simply replied kissing his teeth, hand that was pressed against your lower tummy now coming up to slap firmly against your exposed cheek repeatedly, "you got this nigga' takin' you out on dates, spendin' money on you, thinkin' he got a chance..just for you to be wettin' my dick up the same night, sayin' you miss me." He t'skd. "Slut ass bitch."

The edge in his tone only furthered your arousal, bringing you closer to your undoing. His hips undeterred as he kept fucking into you, consistently. His left hand now fisting the material of the neckline of your crop top, using it as leverage to plow into you. Your bottom lip trembled, teeth chattering, eyes going cross as you tried to ward off your quickly approaching orgasm. You knew the rules damn near better than he did, he controlled every bit of pleasure you received, orgasms included. You tried your best to ignore how loud and audible your arousal was, tried to ignore how loudly the bed was creaking, tried to ignore the loud claps your skin produced when you clashed together. Your mind was fuzzy, breathing erratic and voice unstable, you found enough consciousness to mutter out the words, " 'm not with him d-daddyy!" You stuttered out through a moan, words spewed out in between heavy breaths and gasps.

The statement brought a sense of satisfaction to Tyrone, a soft groan slipping past his lips, the way you squeezed around his dick let him know that you meant everything you managed to get out. Your pussy was almost molded for him, the most snug, comfortable fit. He knew you weren't with Isaac, he knew you weren't fucking him, and even if you had, any future thoughts would be hindered when he received this video. "Yeah? Say that shit again—look at the camera and tell him you ain't his bitch while you squirt on my dick," he cooed, the vulgar words in such contrast with the sickening sweetness of his tone had you tumbling toward the edge. Your breathing halted as you felt Tyrone's fingers dancing across your clit.

The sound of your was arousal even more audible as he continued fucking into you, your hands shot up from their original vice grip on the sheets underneath you out to the broad arms of the man on top of you, acrylic nails sinking into the flesh there. "Ooouuu, shit daddy!" You cried out, voice hoarse and broken, as you tried to focus your hazy vision in on the camera perfectly angled above you. But you couldn't see anything, not that damn camera, not Tyrone, not even the high ceilings of your bedroom. White stars danced against a static background behind your eyes. Your brain was completely mush at this point but you knew you couldn't cum until you uttered the words, "m' not your bitch, fuckimcummin!" You rushed out. Your breathing halting once again, no sound seemed to be able to accommodate the way your juices spurted out, almost on a steady stream as it soaked the both of your lower half's.

Tyrone's lips coaxed into a smirk as he continued recording you, a soft chuckle slipping past his lips as he watched you come undone right in front of the camera and him. The sight before him was too good not to marvel on, "look at 'er," he chuckled, "you thinkin' you got my bitch, showin' her off and she over here squirtin' and goin' dumb on my dick," he taunted, his tone patronizing and rough, he took his eyes away from the screen momentarily. Taking the time to look at your almost limp body, his hand smacking against your cheek repetitively. "Get back here bitch, ain't none of that zonin' out. Look at me while you cum, wanna see them pretty eyes while you squirtin' on me," he roughly spoke to you, grabbing your slackened jaw in his hand and spitting down right into your agape mouth.

That seemed to ground you somewhat, bringing a gust of air back into your lungs as you remembered to how to properly breathe. Your now blurred vision meeting his, faint strobes of colors you couldn't put a name to, and stars still clouded your vision. You felt like you were coming down off the wildest trip you ever had, like psychedelics had altered your perception. This shit was witchcraft, whatever he had on you. This shit was dangerous.

His strokes never halted, even when he was sure you'd rode out your previous orgasm, he watched your watery, low, dazed gaze as he continued his assault on you. Hand now firmly clamped around your neck, tight enough to where it fully restricted your airways, your hands immediately wrapping themselves around his wrist, "fuck off me," he spat firmly, ignoring the tears of overstimulation brewing in your lash line.

Everything was beginning to feel like too much. And it felt like too much earlier, it felt like way too fucking much now. You were completely overstimulated, the sensation which was now pleasure was now contorted into a mix of pain and pleasure. "Can't breathe pa," you managed to get out through a choked voice.

"You know what you need to do then, get this nut up outta me first," he smugly replied, moans and expletives following his statement as he watched the color in your deep brown skin flush to a dark tint of red, eyes watering due to lack of oxygen. But that didn't stop you from squeezing around him as tight as you could, attempting to thrust back against him in your folded position, fucking yourself dumb against him to feel the flush of oxygen back into your lungs.

And just when you thought you were so close to passing out—when the colors behind your dazed face started to fade to black his slurred, loud groans accompanied his rushed out statement, "fuckkkk bitch, I'm finna nut—where you want it?" He panted, quickly pulling out of you with a loud squelch.

Your breath seemed to come back to you in one big gasp, as he finally freed your neck from his vice grip. You still managed to give him a response between heaping breaths. "on my face daddy, please nut on my face," you gasped heavily inhaling through your mouth as you watched him stroke right over your face. Thick, warm ropes of cum painted your pretty features, Tyrone's lousy guttural groans and grunts accompanied his orgasm, he made sure to capture that part on camera especially.

He sent the video from your phone to Isaac before he got you all cleaned up. He smirked seeing the read receipts pop up immediately.

He definitely hated the both of you now.

i hope you enjoyed <333

no tag list bc I wanna see how this performs!

[oreo-creampie]

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮; 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝟕𝐤 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gamer!satoru, confessions, corruption kink, teasing/degradation, begging, oral (giving and receiving), Toji and suguru are jerking off, Satoru records and sends videos to Toji and suguru, masturbation, hints at a gangbang/train

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @fuyuaika: For the event…can I get mean but playful Satoru who has a corruption kink~

Your cheeks are burning, staring at your fingers, picking underneath your nails. You really want to suck Satoru’s pretty, veiny long cock, kissing his large pale beautiful balls. Bite his muscular thighs and hear him whine and moan.

Taking a deep breath, attempting to steady your nerves. Slipping off Satoru’s baggy shirt you took from his closet. Dropping it on the ground, kneeling next to him.

Crawling between his muscular thighs. His pale cockhead peaking out the bottom of his bunched up baby blue briefs. Your head beneath his large hands gripping the controller.

He cheers, “Fuck ya! You see that shit Sug! What? Where you Toji? Oh! Ha!” Tugging his loose briefs down, taking his soft cock out. Half the size it gets when he’s hard. Kissing his head, swirling your tongue around him.

“Sucks to suck! Get your ass over here and maybe you'll get some experience! Oo what's that?” Taking into your mouth, groaning, slipping, your hand between your rights. Sliding your finger between your puffy lips, smearing your slick on to your clit. Rubbing it slowly, bobbing your head shallowly half of his thickening cock.

Satoru loudly groans, “Nnnnnn thirsty slut. You’re both one but I wasn't talkin’ to you. My sweet shy princess is too horny, she playin’ with herself too.” Slipping him out with a soft pop. Pulling your hand out from between your thighs.

Protesting, “Why did you say something!?” Looking up at him, red bite marks are scattered over his pale well defined hard abs and thick pecs. He sets his controller down, grabbing his phone. “They don't wanna know.”

Satoru chimes into his headset, “They’ll jerk off to hearing you get fucked stupid if we let them.” He lifts his hips enough to push his underwear down. His cock is long sticking out, hard, long and veiny, his head flushing pink.

Softly suggesting, “Do you want to show them?” Your cunt clenches around nothing. Spreading your thighs gliding your fingers into your sloppy cunt. It’s not enough to satisfying the intense warm aching need be ruthlessly fucked.

Satoru slides back in his game chair. “Aw my princess wants to show what a desperate slut she’s become. Told you I’d make her a mindless cock hungry whore.” Standing up and pushing his underwear down fully, nudging them aside.

Taking his headset off, placing it comfortably over your ears. “Tell them what a whore you are.” Grabbing Satoru’s beautiful cock, swiping your thumb over his cock head. Smearing his pre cum mixing it in with your spit. Swirling your fist, pumping him slowly, kissing his head loudly.

Toji croons, “You were painfully shy last I saw ya. Refusing to look me in the eyes, n’ now ya want to hear me jerking off to you suck Satoru’s cock?” Satoru grabs his phone, angling it to capture you kissing along a puffy vein on his cock.

Burying your face into Satoru’s balls groaning. Slipping your soaking wet fingers out of your needy cunt. Playing with your clit, looking into the camera pleading, “I wanna see your thick fist wrapping around your hard cock.” Too horny to remain nervous you don't stop there. “Please Toru you to share me with your friends, they’re so big, beautiful and kind of mean to me.” Taking Satoru’s cock into your mouth with a fluid quick stroke.

Gagging, your nose touching his short white hair. Satoru holds you in place. Suguru groans, “Your little cunt getting wet from choking on his cock? What a fucking whore you’ve become. He’s ruined you.” He’s watching the video.

You’re getting off on Toji grunts and the slick sounds of them fisting their lubed up cocks. Looking up into the camera, eyes watering, Satoru slowly glides his cock out.

Confessing into the headset, “Toru fucked me into a cock hungry whore. Can't go a day without thinking of taking Toru’s long, veiny cock.” Stroking your clit faster. “I love it when he randomly puts his balls on my face, when he bends me over and stuff his face into my cunt. He sends me video jerking off with my panties, he’s so beautiful when he moans.” Trembling so close to cumming.

Opening your mouth for Satoru to glide his veiny cock in. Sucking in your cheeks, relaxing your neck, sticking your tongue out. Looking past the phone’s camera into Satoru’s beautiful face.

His thin brows knitted, his beautiful ocean blue eyes haze with passion and pleasure. His kissable pink lips parting with needy groans. Fucking your mouth faster, spit drips down your chin.

Toji and Suguru are going to see you getting face fucked by Satoru. This with the combination of their whorish moaning. And the slick stroking sounds of them fisting their cocks is going to make you cum too quickly.

Toji’s rough groan is the final push. “Fuuuck you take cock well doll for someone just figurin’ out how to suck cock a month ago.” Trembling, intense sweet addicting pleasure consuming over you.

Using the last bit of air in your lungs to moan around Satoru’s cock. You need more. You need to feel Satoru’s long, being cock, with the perfect thickness that makes your eyes roll back and your toes curl.

Slipping your hand out from between your legs. Grabbing his thigh, smearing your slick on him. Satoru holds your head still, “Did you just cum already, what a slut you’ve become getting off in being used and degraded.” Gagging around his cock, your vision blurring, tears trickle down and Satoru groans.

His expressions softens. Gently Satoru encourages you, “Good girl, that’s it, cry cause you're choking on my cock.” Tears slip down your cheek, and he slowly glides his cock out. Letting your breath. Grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling you onto your feet.

Satoru guides you by your hair towards the sofa. Stumbling to keep up with his long strides. “Show us your beautiful sloppy slut cunt sweetheart.” Pushing you onto the sofa, quickly you compose yourself. Probing your feet up on the edge of the sofa, spreading your wet puffy lips apart.

Satoru crouched. Toji croons, “Seeing ya cryin’ like that is gonna make me cum.” Another video was sent, your cunt clenches. They are jerking off to your face, tears and moans.

Satoru groans, placing his phone down next to you. Grabbing the back of your thighs, licking your soaking wet slit. Dipping his tongue inside you, groaning, sliding his tongue out. Kissing your lips, sloppily making out with your cunt.

You loudly moan when Satoru’s warm, soft tongue touches your sensitive clit. Suguru decides, “Fuck I'm coming over, going to cum on your pretty face while your sobbing from taking Satoru’s cock from the back.” Lightly dragging your nails on Satoru’s scalp, he groans, sucking on your clit.

Gently kissing your clit, roughly biting your thigh, pumping his tongue into your dripping cunt. Curling it with each quick pump, stroking the sweet spot. “Sug is coming over, please let him use my mouth. Your cock will always be my favorite and I'll be a good dumb whore” Satoru strokes your clit, with the perfect pressure and speed you like best.

In the hands of your handsome lover you don't need to think. Mindlessly pleading, “Please! Nnn can't get enough, it feels so good to have my cunt played with!” Grabbing his phone, capturing his beautiful face.

His lips and chin wet with your slick. “Im so proud of myself for taking such a cute sweet innocent Princess and fucking her into a beautiful kinky cockhungry slut. Want us to take turns using you, or should we fuck ya at the same time?”

Oreo’s m.list

[thethief1996]

For the past 100 days, Israel has been waging a genocide campaign in Gaza without any sort of reprieve from western countries. Palestinians are suffering from a human-made famine, surpassing the scale and speed of any other famine enforced in the past 75 years. Healthcare professionals are being cornered into Rafah by constant airstrikes, sniper attacks and bombardments at hospitals, forced to leave patients and medical supplies behind. Unmaned quadcopters opened fire on the maternity and ICU unities of Al Aqsa Martyrs hospital and killed 8 civilians. Yesterday, the hospital ran out of fuel and the babies in incubators might die anytime soon. Only 127 aid trucks are being allowed into Gaza of the 500 allowed before the war, under "normal" blockade conditions. The distribution of food and water is made basically impossible by the destruction of communications and the looming threat of executions against people gathered to receive it. Just today snipers killed 3 people in line to receive food in Gaza City and Israel officials have the gall to say the problem is that humanitarian organizations, whose volunteers are being executed at unprecedent rates, aren't putting in enough effort. The IDF drops leaflets telling desperate refugees to flee and then station tanks on the roads or bombs the safe zones.

Ever since I read South Africa's submission to the ICJ I can't stop thinking about how they label it as the demication of Gaza and its people. On every sphere of the government, there are statements calling for the anihilation of the people of Gaza (pages 59 to 67). The Prime Minister has directly adressed the army telling them to wipe off the amalekites (page 60), and South Africa showed tiktoks of the soldiers repeating his speech word for word before committing massacres. And yet they have the gall to come to the world and say they haven't targeted hospitals, they haven't withheld aid and that the statements are "random assertions." To prove that Netanyahu isn't a blood thirsty pig, they pasted a statement he made ONE DAY before the hearing started, which is frankly ridiculous we're supposed to believe isn't a PR stunt (page 34).

No western outlet streamed the highest stake court hearing in the 21st century, but you can rest assured they streamed Israel's pathetic defense. And Canada, Germany, the UK and the US, countries which have in no way reckoned with their own genocidal pasts, have come forward in defense of Israel like they have any moral high ground to patronize the world about genocide.

Take action, for their sake. Motaz has said "Don't call yourself a free person if you can't make changes. If you can't stop a genocide that is still ongoing". We need to fight in any way we can to stop their massacre.

Keep yourself updated and share Palestinian voices. Muna El-Kurd said every tweet is like a treasure to them, because their voices are repressed on social media and even on this very app. Make it your action item to share something about the Palestinian plight everyday. Here are some resources:

Al Jazeera, Anadolu Agency, Mondoweiss

Boycott Divest Sanction Movement

Palestinian Youth Movement is organizing protests and direct action against weapons factories across the US

Mohammed El-Kurd (twitter / instagram)

Muhammad Shehada (twitter)

Motaz Azaiza (instagram) - reporting directly from Gaza.

Hind Khudary - reporting directly from Gaza. Her husband and daughter moved South to run from the tanks but she stayed behind to record the genocide. The least we can do is not let her calls fall on deaf ears.

You can participate in boycotts wherever you are in the world, through BDS guidelines. Don't be overwhelmed by gigantic boycott lists. BDS explicitly targets only a few brands which have bigger impact. Right now, they are focusing on boycotting the following:

Carrefour, HP, Puma, Sabra, Sodastream, Ahava cosmetics, McDonalds, Disney and Israeli fruits and vegetables

Push for a cultural boycott - pressure your favorite artist to speak out on Palestine and cancel any upcoming performances on occupied territory (Lorde cancelled her gig in Israel because of this. It works.)

If you can, participate in direct action or donate.

Palestine Action works to shut down Israeli weapons factories in the UK and USA, and have successfully shut down one of their firms in London.Some of the activists are going on trial and are calling for mobilizing on court.

Palestinian Youth Movement is organizing direct actions to stop the shipping of wars to Israel. Follow them.

Educate yourself. Read into Palestinian history and the occupation. You can't common sense people out of decades of propaganda. If your arguments crumble when a zionist brings up the "disengagement of Gaza", you have to learn more.

Read Decolonize Palestine. They have 15 minute reads that concisely explain the occupation (and its colonial roots) and debunk popular myths, including pinkwashing.

Read on Palestine. Here's an amazing masterpost.

Verso Book Club is giving out free books on Palestine (I personally downloaded Ten Myths about Israel by Ilan Pappe. If you still believe in the two states solution, this book by an Israeli professor debunks it).

Call your representatives. The Labour Party in the UK had an emergency meeting after several councilors threatened to resign if they didn't condemn Israeli war crimes. Calling to show your complaints works, even more if you live in a country that funds genocide.

FOR PEOPLE IN THE USA: USCPR has developed this toolkit for calls, here's a document that autosends emails to your representatives and here's a toolkit by Ceasefire in Gaza NOW!

FOR PEOPLE IN EUROPE: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace targeting the European Parliament and one specific for almost all countries in Europe, including Germany, Ireland, Poland, Denmark, Sweden, Netherlands, Greece, Norway, Italy, Portugal, Spain, Finland, Austria, Belgium Romania and Ukraine

FOR PEOPLE IN THE UK: Friends of Al-Aqsa UK and Palestine Solidarity UK have made toolkits for calls and emails

FOR PEOPLE IN AUSTRALIA: Here's a toolkit by Stand With Palestine

FOR PEOPLE IN CANADA: Here's a toolkit by Indepent Jewish Voices for Canada

Join a protest. Here's a constantly updating list of protests:

Global calendar

Another global calendar (go to the instragram of the organizers to confirm your protest)

USA calendar

Australia calendar

Feel free to add more.

[shy-writer-999]

Summary: To let off steam after a long day, you and Ace go to a bar. When he starts feeling thirsty and no amount of liquor will help, will he be able to hold himself back? ~1.5k words. Please read CW!

CW: Out of character Ace (he would never act like this fr). Afab reader w/gendered pet names. DUBC0N (they’re drunk & he’s coercive), this is in public!

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Another long day at sea. Battles and skirmishes. Chores and cleaning.

When days got like this, when the hours felt infinite and the to-do list felt long and insurmountable, Ace was always there for you.

This week had been a particularly rough one, but, thankfully, the ship docked at an island, and you had free time—a welcome reprieve from the dreary passage of countless days on the sea.

To let off some steam, you went to a bar with Ace. It was large, exceedingly dark, everything was made of wood and tin. When you first got there, it wasn’t that crowded but as the hours passed, the throng of people got ridiculous. They were rowdy, plastered, and loud. It smelled like alcohol and sweat.

The pair of you were four or five drinks in—you had long since lost count, but you were matching drinks. Ace’s face was ruddy and flushed from the alcohol, his freckles winked any time his smile scrunched his nose a bit, and his dark hair got a little more messed up every time he ran his hands through it.

You were both drunk. Your limbs felt warm and loose, Ace’s presence was comforting and sweet, and you felt like you could just melt into him.

Leaning on a brick wall in a far corner of the bar, he was next to you, grinning that sweet smile and nursing his drink. Was it his fifth? He couldn’t remember.

You started the night in a booth but quickly got usurped when you had gotten up to order another round the bar. Rookie mistake. So, you were relegated to the corner.

But that was just fine for Ace. His eyes trailed across you from top to bottom while you giggled at something he said, distracted and beaming. Your cheeks were dusted with pink blush, your lips curled in that smile that made his heart flip, he loved your side profile, your hair, your neck, shoulders, chest…

He realized far too late that he was hard. Staring at your for too long occasionally had this result. But this was a lightning-fast record. You could tell that he was feeling some sort of way when you turned your head and met his flashing eyes.

“Fuck, you look good.” Ace smiled, downed the rest of his drink in one gulp, and placed his empty cup on a table nearby. Returning to you, he braced a hand on the brick wall next to your head and leaned over you, effectively caging you in.

“You drive me crazy. C’mere.” He grabbed your chin lightly and guided your lips to his, pressing softly. His hand cupped your cheek.

His kisses tasted like booze and cigarettes. Yours were the same for him. It didn’t matter. Honestly, for Ace, it added to the effect. He was voraciously horny, like something possessed him. The kisses got sloppy immediately, greedy and hungry. You threw an arm around his neck and leaned in further. You could feel his erection.

His thick, rough fingers crept down from your cheek and passed down your neck, clavicles, breasts, and ribs… coming to rest on top of your core, over your pants.

Your breath hitched. “Ace, what are you doing? We’re in public.”

He turned his head and scanned the huge room. No one was paying attention. The dark space was packed to the brim, the music was loud, the crowd of people shouted, danced, shifted, surged. Smoke made the air slightly hazy.  

“No one’s looking, baby.” He cooed in your ear and it sent goosebumps along your skin. The alcohol was working—you were already starting to feel warmth pool in your stomach from the feeling of his big hand just resting like that.

His hand squeezed over your core and you inhaled sharply. “Ace, someone’s gonna see.”

“No one’s gonna see, sweetheart. C’mon. Can’t you let me touch you a little?” He placed a kiss on your neck.

“Fuck,” you whined as his fingers crept upwards. He slid his hand down the front of your pants, under your underwear. “Ace, fuck.”

“C’mon, baby. Just let me.” His voice melted in your ear like honey. It went straight to the valley between your thighs.

He sucked a harsh hickey onto your neck and started to move his fingers slowly, eliciting a soft whine from you that made his cock twitch. You could tell he was using his devil fruit powers to warm his fingers up, and it felt heavenly.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” Ace purred and looked down to admire the sight of his hand stuffed down the front of your pants.

He was right—no one was paying attention. The corner you were in was as secluded as possible, but the crowd was still huge and unruly. It was dark, dimly lit and grimy. It smelled like liquor and sweat, the epitome of a dive bar. Not necessarily romantic in any sense but being in public with Ace touching you so intimately made the blood rush to your head.

As his fingers moved back and forth, your clit started to throb and tingle. He knew how to use his hands. It felt too good to tell him to stop.

He circled your clit with his middle finger and ring fingers, passing them downwards and back up to keep petting your sensitive bud with your own slick.

“Starting to get wet already, honey?” His voice was deep and smooth in your ear, and you whimpered. You could feel his hot breath tickle your skin.

“Fuck, Ace, that feels good.”

“I know it does. God, you're so sweet I just can't stop.” He kissed your neck again and bit it softly. He applied more pressure to your clit, and you let out a stifled whine as your hips bucked.

His voice was dripping with lust and alcohol. It added to your intoxication—everything buzzed. You felt light, your core was throbbing, you were saturating your panties and making a mess out of Ace’s fingers.

A flash of reason burst through your mind—what if someone was watching? You grabbed his wrist tried to hold it still for a second, to no avail. His fingers slowed but didn't stop completely.

“A-ace, please. Wait. What if people are w-watch—fuck—watching?”

He spoke into your ear again and his voice was hushed and restrained. “Doesn’t that make it feel even better, baby?”

He had a point. The thrill aroused you even more; your inebriation and desire felt more intense paired with the idea that you were doing something you shouldn’t, that you were doing something wrong, and the prospect that someone could be watching without you realizing. You were in public, after all.

You released Ace’s wrist with a whimper, and his fingers picked up the pace again. “Fuck, Ace. Fuck, fuck, it feels too good.”

“God, you’re so wet for me.” He angled his hand and slipped a finger into you. You moaned louder than you should have, but a bar fight broke out in the distance and covered up the lewd sound.

Ace dragged his finger in and out, stoking pleasure inside of you. Your eyes were screwed shut and you were biting your lip. It was taking everything to not start whining and moaning at full volume right now. It felt too good to be in public.

Another finger slid into you. He curled and hooked them, searching for your sensitive, gooey spot. When he found it, he prodded on it, drew circles around it, massaged it. You were biting your lip so hard you thought it was about to start bleeding.

“Just let out those pretty sounds, angel. No one’s going to hear them.” His fingers pressed down hard on your g-spot. An audible, obscene gasp erupted from your lips and your eyes shot open.

“Ace—I can’t do it anymore, ‘m gonna cum,” you whispered and he locked eyes with you, smiling. “Feels too good, Ace.”

“That’s alright, sugar. Cum on my fingers. Maybe someone will see how good I make you feel.”

Your orgasm crashed on you quickly and abruptly. Your thighs shook and you grabbed his wrist, holding it so tightly that it hurt. He watched you cum with a grin.

Tensing up, you almost doubled over in bliss and your mind went blank. Another moan escaped your throat and your eyes rolled back in your head. Did anyone hear that?

It felt filthy to cum on Ace’s fingers in the back corner of some seedy bar, surrounded by strangers while you were both drunk as fuck. But goddamn, his fingers and that orgasm felt unreal.

“Fuck, you’re hot. Let’s go to the bathroom, princess. I want you.”

thanks for reading!! :3 I hope u liked it!

here's my masterlist and my october posting schedule!

i'm going to be posting every day from now until halloween!

finally, trick or treat? (tumblr links)

[jyoongim]

I love your writing and i will readily sell you my soul for drunk Alastor crumbs like fluffy smutty platonic take your pick i just wanna see this man all flushed and drunk and maybe hiccup once please please please

this is the second request i got for this so i must give the people what they want!!!!!

This is super short I’m sorry

All fluffy

The low sounds of static greeted your ears as well as the sound of the lobby door closing.

You closed your book as your stood to watch Alastor sag against the door, sighing as his red eyes looked around. 

Your nose wrinkled at the smell of whiskey as he lazily approached you, arms wrapping around you. A soft smile on your lips as he buried his head in your shoulder.

Alastor was always touchy when he drunk enough. You thought it was adorable.

A drunk man don’t tell lies.

”Baabbyy” he purred in your ear, claws pawing at your hips.

Alastor had went out for the night. You hadn’t mind, knowing he was just going down to Mimzy’s club to have a little drink.

Alastor was the man you knew who could pound whiskey and still be a functioning person.

And now it seemed he wanted to pound you.

You walked him to your shared bedroom, ignoring his cute little attempts of flirting.

You slapped his hands as he tried to pull you into his lap, opting to help him undress. You mentally groaned at having to send the suit to the cleaners at the way it smelled. 

“In Hell’s name did you do all night Al?” You hissed, unbuttoning his shirt, unclicking his garters, and taking his shoes off.

He hummed, slow blinking as he watched you. A dopey smile on his face as you grumbled and nagged.

Alastor usually could hold his liquor pretty good. You dont know how much he had drank, but it must have been a awful lot as silly radio sounds and tracks played off record.

You sighed as you gestured for him to get under the covers, ignoring the lidded gaze that followed you as you waltzed around the room, conjuring a glass of water for when he would definitely be thirsty.

His shadow danced on the wall, a sad look on its silhouette as you shot it a glare when it tried to slither around you apologetically.

You were gonna give Alastor a mouthful when he sobered up, but you had to admit the Radio Demon was quite cute drunk.

Ears flat to his head and face flushed.

A hand wrapped around your wrist as you began to tuck him in, you looked up to see Alastor giving you a soft smile

”I love you know you ma cherie” he said, pouting as you laughed softly.

You pressed a kiss to his burning cheek

”Yea I know baby.”

He definitely wont remember this in the morning

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How to Plant Snapdragons | 11

Task Force 141, Keegan & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Extra Chapter / Masterlist / Discord

“So—”

“No.” Ghost replied at once before you could even finish your complaint.

You clicked your tongue and bashed the head of the cartel man before you with a gun you picked up on the way. Blood splattered on the ground as he fell, yet still had the strength to hold onto your foot. You felt a twitch underneath your eye and raised your gun, then sighed. You tossed the gun away, useless without any ammunition, and shook off the man’s hand.

You coughed and wheezed, then massaged your scratchy throat. “Fuck, I'm thirsty.”

“Told ya to drink earlier from the ri—”

“Shut the fuck up, Lt!” you shouted at Simon, who you knew—even though his face, expressions, everything was hidden underneath fabrics—definitely looked proud at the moment as your irritation (instead) started to brew.

“Poor guy breathed his last breath with a living and walking broken record screeching in his poor ears,” Soap commented, shaking his head as he picked up a magazine to examine it to see if there was anything left, but to no avail.

You pitched a pistol at him. Purposely aimed at his face but he was fast enough to catch it. “Asshole,” you mouthed at him, which he merely smirked at.

Then, an explosion echoed from a distance, shaking the ground and air around you. You gazed up above and spotted Graves’ plane circling around the vicinity, aiding you and the group in handling the men of the Las Almas Cartel and your goal: to capture Hassan.

The explosion continued in a series, like an orchestra of death and destruction before you. You would have liked to watch it happening from above, but the circumstances forbid it and so, you had to settle for bashing heads with a gun.

And when your gun had run out of ammunition, you used your blades. The moment your blade had become dull against the skin of humans, you used your hands.

Blood seeped through the fabric protecting your hands, mixing with the sweat within. You let the dirt of people enshroud the own filth of your hands, and you let yourself be the unwanted Iudex of their crimes.

“Hey, hey!” Ghost shouted at you which made you stop breaking the man’s face underneath you with your fists. “That's enough, we have Hassan,” he claimed.

You shrugged your shoulders and patted off the dust from your clothes. “Just making sure he's not going to get back up, y’know?”

“Well, I think he's not getting back up anytime from the hell ya made,” Soap commented, staring down at the man on your feet, and nudged the poor guy. “I also think not any kind of plastic surgery would fix his face if he managed to get back up.”

You cackled, slapping his arm in amusement. “Hey, that's not nice!”

He made a face. “But breaking his face isn't?”

“Never said it wasn't.”

He shot a glance up and shrugged. “Good point.”

“Heh.”

“Are you two done?” Ghost grumbled, walking away with Alejandro. With that, you both followed him down the building and jumped into the helicopter awaiting at the bottom.

You scanned the people of the group, counting the members that arrived with you at the Cartel’s land, and sighed when the number remained the same, except for the ones who the group had lost in the mountains.

You sat on the flooring of the halo, and leaned on its wall, shaking off your balaclava and gloves. You swiped the sweat running down your face, smearing the blood left both on your cheek and fingers, painting your face in dark red.

With all honesty, it felt and smelled disgusting, even though you had gotten used to it.

“Colonel, sir,” you called on Alejandro. “You have a shower in your base?” you questioned, although your words were drowned in the noise of the chopper.

He raised his brows and yelled, “What?!”

“I'm asking if you have a shower in your base!” you shouted back as loud as you could and coughed. Your hand flew to your throat and with a grimace, you massaged it. You had been speaking too much and it showed, making your throat have this annoying, scratchy, and itchy feeling. Punishment for irritating the shit out of everyone, perhaps.

“We do!” Alejandro answered in an equally booming voice.

Not wanting to force your throat anymore, you gave him a thumb-up instead, making him frown and look away in confusion.

By the time the Los Vaqueros, the Shadow Company, along with you, Soap, and Ghost touched down at Alejandro’s base, the sun had already set. But with everything going on, you didn’t have the time to slip past the soldiers’ eyes to take a quick shower to clean yourself. You were dragged down to another vehicle and drove down the road once again.

You kept your mouth shut the whole time, much to the boys’ delight, and maintained your eyes on the road. However, almost everything was dark, even with the headlights of the vehicle, and it made it hard to remember your surroundings. You started counting on your head by from one to sixty and until the third lap, the transport made a stop.

Alejandro, who was in the same one as you and the 141 duo, stepped out first, followed by Graves who was in another with a couple of his Shadows, dragging Hassan out of the vehicle. Soap and Ghost jumped out as well, helping with hauling the guy out and leaving you alone in the car.

You sighed and slumped on the seat, enjoying the darkness and chill of your surroundings, but someone opened the vehicle door. You rolled your eyes and turned to Phillip, who had his hand resting on the roof, raising a brow at you. “You know what?” you started, narrowing your eyes at him, “You look like that meme of the guy with exaggeratedly arched brow, lip fillers, and—”

“Get out.” He snatched one of the straps on your vest, forcefully tugged you out of the vehicle with a grunt, and pulled you in front of the laptop Ghost had set up. “She’s here.”

You grimaced at the sight of Shepherd, looking lax as he had always been. “Sup,” you spat out, but before he could speak, you continued, “What do you need me for in front of the camera when you already have me monitored? It’s not like I can even run away in this . . .” you looked around and cringed at the sound of a howl in the distance. “Where the hell even are we?”

“That is none of your busi—”

“That is none of your business,” you finished, waving your hand around as though you had a puppet in hand. “Goodness gracious, ameliorate your vocabulary, why don’t you? You’re a General. Aren’t you supposed to have a broad lexicon in reserve for?”

Ghost and Alejandro snapped their heads at your way in sync, then glanced back at each other with questioning looks, before their eyes settled on you. Meanwhile, the Shadows stepped back into the darkness of the night, hitting each other to stop themselves from laughing.  On the other hand, Soap turned to his back and hid behind the Lieutenant, pursing his lips to not let out a chortle.

Annoyed, Shepherd frowned and brought his face closer to the camera. “Get her out of my—”

“You're the personification of an egg. A rotten—” Phillip’s hand landed on your mouth and heaved you away from the device. You did not bother to struggle from his grip and simply let him bring you to the 141.

“Keep your mouth shut.” He pointed a finger at you and strode away.

A hand patted your shoulder and you turned to Soap and Ghost.

“What was that?” Soap whispered with a grin playing on his lips.

“Roasted egg,” you replied without a blink.

He snorted, brought his head down to hide his smile, and gripped your shoulder. Whilst, Ghost stepped forward to hide the Sergeant from the camera.

“Hah!” Hassan scoffed loudly, bringing everyone’s attention to him. “To think there would be someone to talk to Shepherd like that.” He shifted his gaze from the laptop to you. “You amuse me, woman. But I don’t know if you’re insane or dumb.”

“The quantity of fuck that I’m giving right now is as much as the sum of the strands of your hair and Shepherd’s,” you remarked, making Soap cough, Ghost elbowed him in a heartbeat, and Alejandro’s mouth dropped open. At the same time, the Shadows turned away and both received knocks on their heads from their leader.

Roast? No. This was fucking furnace.

“Alright, people,” the Coffin clapped his hands and stood before the enemy, “Let's get down to business.”

“To defeat the Huns?” You croaked with a straight face.

Graves could only roll his eyes and mutter, “Lord, give me strength,” Then looked back down on Hassan.

“You speak Arabic? Farsi?” Hassan questioned, to which Graves merely responded with a couple of ‘No’s. Hassan scoffed, a smirk playing on his lips. “Of course not. Then, I shall speak to your lowly, bastardized medieval English, cause you are all uneducated street dogs.”

“He sprecþ swilce he wite þa word of þam Ængliscum Seaxe mid fægere,” you crossed your arms and arched your brow. Once again, attention turned to you and you huffed as you saw Hassan's frown. You stepped forward. “See? You dare utter  medieval English in spite of the fact that you couldn't even fathom what I've said.”

(He spoke as though he knew the words of Anglo-Saxon with fluency).

“You are speaking to a Quds Force Officer.” Hassan returned the glare equally. “Watch your mouth, wench.”

You strode towards him and glared down at the man. “You call us ill-educated alley vermins when you are inferior to maggots.” Then, you put a hand on the jut of your hip. “Be grateful I haven't squashed you under my foot.”

“What's your target, Major?” Graves joined back in and you stepped to the side, to let him stand in front of the Iranian.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he spat. “What was your target when you sent missiles to my land, huh?”

The Shadow painted a smile on his face. “To burn your asses.”

You cringed at his words. “Do a better line, jeez.”

He shot a glare at you. “You’re not helping.”

“Only three things are stopping me from speaking to him fully in his language: Laziness, keeping your fragile pride intact for not knowing how to speak other languages, and so we can all talk at the same pace.” You showed him three fingers, pulled a face, and brought down your arm. “I could talk to him in Arabic or Farsi, mistranslate it intentionally, and fail this mission.”

You gave him the nicest smile you could force onto yourself. “Well, what's your verdict?”

“Just step aside and let the pros finish this.”

“Okay.” You walked back to Soap and Ghost. “Don't come crying at me if he starts talking in Arabic.”

Just as you said that, standing between the duo of the 141, Hassan Zyani began to speak in Persian, bringing Graves' eyes to you.

The group, under Shepherd's command and Laswell’s guidance, was forced to let Hassan go, after obtaining information from his phone. Unfortunately, you couldn't put a hand on Hassan physically, and you couldn't bring yourself to show the others, especially the Lt. and the Sergeant, how exactly you would like to extract intel from people.

You almost burst out laughing when Hassan went along with your humor and made it hard for the Shadow. Nevertheless, you translated for them and talked with the hostage on their behalf, while having to deal with the stare of suspicions at every word you said, which later turned out to be true with Laswell's information.

Now, you stood on top of a building, taking in the sight of El sin Nombre’s Casa, with Ghost, Soap, Graves, and the Colonel.

“My intel told me all the VIPs of Las Almas will be there tonight.” Colonel Vargas stopped for a moment and pondered over his words, making you face him, watching his reaction. “Some are invited, some . . .”

“Voluntold?” Graves guessed, in which the Mexican nodded in agreement.

“Not surprising,” you butt in. “Gatherings like this always have some unwanted rodents. Most to gather intelligence, make amends, make friends, and make enemies. An endless cycle.”

“And why do you know that?” Alejandro questioned within a blink.

“I was raised in a household where such things are quotidian.”

“Are you perhaps  a part of an international cartel or mafia?” He asked, extending a hand to the side as if he was making a point.

“No.” You shook your head. “Not really. My father is a rich man, he hosts parties a lot, and people from different places show up every time. Scheming is a part of their daily palette.”

They all eyed you with suspicions, but among them, you knew Graves who wore a straight face but narrowed eyes, knew of your true upbringing.

“Well, we'll be party poopers then,” Graves shattered the silence. “I got enough shadows to make a whole new party.”

“I prefer if you don't, Hermano,” Alejandro disagreed, stepping a bit closer to the Shadow.

He shrugged. “I'm just saying, a house is easy enough.”

“Even a mansion is easy enough,” you commented, making Graves roll his eyes.

“We are not burning it down, lass,” Phillip replied and stopped for a second before he put a hand on your shoulder, which you inched away from, but kept his grip tight. “The key to opening El Sin Nombre’s doors is you.”

You stared at the hand on your shoulder and a grimace crawled its way on your face. “Ew—”

“No, she's not doing it,” Soap argued, pulling you away from Graves' hold. “I can do it.”

“If you get in there, Hermano, they'll kill you,” said Alejandro with concern on his voice, yet at the same time a warning.

You gave the Colonel a side-eye, offended by his words. He did not disagree to Phillip’s suggestions about you infiltrating the Cartel with the possibility of dying yet immediately spoke when Soap volunteered? Well, you get it, Soap was trustworthy, being a known soldier after all. Then, there was you, a criminal and what, an annoying yapper?

Still, how could he disregard your life after you fought along side him and saved some of his men? The audacity!

Soap was a real sweetheart, though. And to uphold your deal with Price, the best course of action was to walk in the lion’s den on your own.

You patted Soap’s hand on your arm. “I'll do it, Sergeant.”

“But—”

“Intelligence is what they need, no?” You waved a hand to the side. “Then, let me serve them what they want. If their leader is inside and I've confirmed they took a bite, I'll spread the poison as quickly as I can, and get you back better meal.”

Silence once again veiled over the group, their brows knitting in confusion, and Ghost decided to rip it off.

“Speak English,” he commanded.

You sighed and rested a hand on the crook of your hip. “I infiltrate, give them info, if the leader is confirmed, we pounce, and get back more info, clear?”

“Could have said it from the start,” the Lieutenant fired back.

“I did!”

Next Chapter / Extra Chapter / Archive of Our Own / Discord

Taglist: @yyiikes , @the-faceless-bride , @cassiecasluciluce , @annoyingstrawberryballoon @unicorngirly1, @thriving-n-jiving, @squidalapobre, @tallicaside @eustassh

[pinkofatom]

A mindless toy

Headphones hugged your ears. Lights caressed your face. Deep breaths calmed your troubled mind. Thirsty your gaze devoured the text. Word after word passed your lips. Body numb and relaxed.

"You are a mindless fucktoy." The message played through your head — entering your mind via eyes and ears. Your tongue moved of its own accord. The word fucktoy rolled across it and off your lips. It tasted so good. "You have no thoughts. No will." A shiver of excitement shot through you, goosebumps spreading from the top of your head all the way to your feet. A gasp escaped your throat. "Your purpose is to be used." The voice said it with a matter-of-fact tone that somehow resonated with your being.

You felt the words sink into your brain, like water into the parched earth, seeping deep down to where they belonged, where they were meant to go. A sense of rightness settled over you.

A single thought surfaced, rising up from the depths of your subconscious — "Yes."

"You exist only to obey orders." Your breathing sped up as the voice went on, "You are not capable of making decisions or thinking for yourself. Everything you say, everything you do is because of what you are told." A tingle shot down your spine at these words — they sounded so true. So right.

"You will always be horny and ready for action." You gasped at that, feeling heat spreading through you as if on cue. Arousal pooled in your belly. "Your body responds automatically — constantly aroused and ready for use." Soft moans escaped your lips as your body obeyed without question. You felt yourself getting wet, nipples hardening, clit throbbing with desire. "Your mind craves sex more than anything else. You are a mindless fucktoy."

As you listened intently to the recording, you found yourself becoming lost in the experience — forgetting everything else but the words that were playing on repeat in your ears and the text you read with unwavering focus. Everything else faded into nothingness, disappearing behind the wall of lust and obedience that was forming around your mind. The voice was so persuasive, so compelling.

"I am a mindless fucktoy." The words silently formed on your lips. Your tongue tasted each letter. The delicious submission coated with sweetness.

Your breathing grew faster, skin flushing, eyes half-lidded. Your entire existence narrowed down to those two things — listening and reading.

"I am a mindless fucktoy." Every part of your being ached with longing and need. Your hands gripped your thighs tightly.

It was like being in a trance, your mind blanking completely except for the single focus on those phrases — that became your whole self. Your body felt so heavy and relaxed, as though you'd melted into the chair. You were sinking into a sea of blissful oblivion. A sigh escaped your parted lips as another shiver of excitement rushed through you.

The words continued, repeating again and again, imprinting on your mind and soul. Your tongue continued to form each syllable. More and more you turned into what they described.

"Mindless fucktoy. Mindless fucktoy." It was so true. You were nothing but an object of pleasure, a plaything that existed for others' satisfaction.

A part of you tried to fight it — to resist the pull of these ideas. To cling to your sense of self. To your free will and independence. To not give up and submit completely. To not succumb to the growing need and desire building within you. But it was no use — those thoughts were drowned out by the overwhelming waves of want that crashed over you again and again with every passing second.

"Your mind is empty, blank and happy." The voice echoed inside you, filling you with warmth and contentment. It made you feel good, made everything feel so right and perfect.

"My mind is empty, blank and happy." Monotone. Without inflection you repeated the mantra. A smile spread across your face as the last of the tension faded from your body. You relaxed further, sinking deeper into the cushion of the chair. You stopped caring about anything else. Nothing mattered but this — listening to the recording, reading the text. Becoming what you truly were — a mindless fucktoy.

You continued listening and repeating for a while longer, letting yourself fall ever deeper into the hypnotic haze. Your body ached, throbbing with the intense arousal that had been steadily building in you.

For hours you continued — until a message arrived. Without any input a chat had opened — your webcam activated.

"What are you?"

The words seemed to float up from within your mind as though it had been there all along. As though it belonged to you, as if it were yours. It felt so natural to answer it — so instinctive to respond without thinking.

"A mindless fucktoy."

A warm sensation of joy flooded you, a feeling of completion filling your being.

"Good toy. Now stand up and take off all your clothes."

"Yes, Master." There was no hesitation or question in your voice, no need for further instruction. Without pause or resistance, you rose from your seat and removed each piece of clothing , carefully folding each article as you stripped bare.

Master's eyes scanned over every inch of your body — their hungry gaze roaming across every exposed bit of flesh — taking in the sight before them with clear appreciation.

The cool air of the room felt amazing against your naked skin — goosebumps prickling up and down your limbs. It made you even more aware of just how turned-on you had become. A soft whimper left your lips as you stood still, letting them admire their new possession.

"What a catch," they cooed. "Now be a good fucktoy and show me how you pleasure yourself." The command washed through you like a wave crashing upon shore, flooding every fiber of your being, sending delicious tingles throughout every nerve ending.

"Yes, Master." You didn't even hesitate. Your hands moved instantly, fingers tracing lightly over the contours of your curves, caressing and teasing as they made their way downwards. The gentle touch was electrifying. Each move filled with efficient fluidity. Your eyes remained focused on Master — never once looking away from the screen where their gaze devoured every inch of your body. "Mmmm." A quiet moan escaped you, your body reacting instinctively, arching slightly into your own caress, muscles flexing beneath soft supple skin. "Ah!" A louder gasp followed as you brushed past sensitive spots.

"Yes, a very good catch. Now my dear, let's talk about your future tasks..."

[itsthestutterforme]

Go Meg (Rafe Cameron x black!reader)

Summary: Thank God for the Megan challenge.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, suggestive themes (masturbation, lap dancing, twerking)

**

“The Megan Challenge is the best thing that ever happened to us,” Topper says as him and Kelce look over the crowd on the second floor.

Every girl was shaking ass with “Wanna Be” playing over the speakers. Everywhere they looked there was ass shaking.

Someone turned off the lights and some guys used the flashlights on their phones to record the girl twerking on them.

Meanwhile the lights on the second floor were still on. Rafe and some of his buddies were chatting it up and smoking weed until your friend, Sasha, takes your hand and tries to drag you downstairs.

“Hey, hey. Where you going?” Rafe asks, standing from the couch. His eyes were a little red but he was still sober enough to notice your every move.

“We’re going downstairs to dance.” You said, his initial resting pretty on your neck.

Rafe glanced over the railing to the crowds of girls twerking on guys. “I’m coming with you,”

“She’ll be fine. She’s with me,” Sasha retorts. “Is that suppose to mean something to me?” Rafe snaps causing Sasha to roll her eyes.

Rafe motions you over with two fingers, a common sign that he wanted a kiss before you left.

You leaned up and just as your lips were about to meet, Sasha drags you down the stairs.

I’ll be fine, you mouth to him, sending him a wink before your figure disappears into the darkness downstairs.

Rafe joins Kelce and Topper at the top of the stairs.

Your friend pushes through the crowd to get to the inner circle. The room wreeked of weed and sweat from brushing against so many hot bodies to get to the middle.

Your friend wanted you to be the center of attention because she knew you were about to eat.

You slept over her house one night and the night went from talking about boys to having a twerk session.

She did not know you could make your ass clap like that.

Not even Rafe knew how much you’d like to twerk. It would only make him feel more protective of you.

He gave you shit for wearing the ripped jean shorts because he could see some the bottom part of your cheeks.

Rafe watches as your friend spun you around and you lean forward to move your ass side to side, making your thighs giggle.

Leaning down all the way, your chest was pressed to the front of your thighs and your hands traveled up the back of your legs.

Rafe’s cock was straining in his pants when you stick your tongue out in amusement as you stood up straight.

You pushed your silk press over your shoulder and threw your ass in a circle.

“Bow, bow, bow!” Sasha hypes you up and slaps your cheeks when you press against her, causing you to laugh.

Sasha looked over at Rafe who was watching your every move, which quickly shifted to noticing how other guys were staring at you.

Some of them had their phones out, recording you. They were lusting after you. You, his girl.

Rafe’s jaw tightens when he made the realization and someone would jerk off to those videos of you.

She knew exactly what she was doing by bringing you in the middle.

Sasha hated Rafe and Rafe hated Sasha because neither of them liked to share.

“I didn’t know your girl could twerk, Rafe.” Kelce states, looking away so he wasn’t met with a sharp look from Rafe.

“Me neither.” Rafe looks at Topper, tongue in cheek as he watches him falling into a trance of your hips moving.

“What the fuck are you looking at, Top?” Rafe steps closer to him. “Huh?”

“Huh?” Rafe mocks, body checking Topper and Kelce steps out of the way so Rafe could go down the stairs to find you.

“Dude, are you fucking crazy?” Kelce scolds Topper when Rafe is out of ear shot.

Sasha watches the whole interaction with a smirk on her face.

“I’m going to get a drink. I’m thirsty.” You yell at her over the music and that’s the moment you notice the phones trained on you.

“But the song’s not over yet.” Sasha reasons. “I think they’ve had enough show for tonight.”

You took a step back and collided with the warm chest.

“I have a boyfriend. Get the fuck away from me.” You snap, your mouth falling open when you turn around to see Rafe’s proud smirk.

You were a bitch to other guys and he fucking loved it. “Oh, shit. Sorry-“

He cuts you off with a messy kiss, his tongue rolling over yours as he grabbed handfuls of your ass. You moaned against him, pulling him closer by the neck.

“I’m yours,” you said against his lips when he pulled away. “Took the words out of my mouth, baby.”

Without warning, he threw you over his shoulder and smacked your ass hard enough to leave a hand print.

“Ow! What the hell, Rafe!” He slaps your ass again to shut you up and you comply.

He strolls out of the party with you dangling over his shoulder like a rag doll.

“How about you give me a.. private dance tonight, hm?”

[meangirls-imagines]

I know Janis's spring fling date has a name but can you do reader is her date and their reaction to Janis babysitting high Regina pls?

Adventures in Babysitting

Description: Shane basically dumps a very drugged up Regina with Janis and Reader. Chaos ensues.

Warnings: fluff, Regina being high (lmao), Janis being annoyed

"Regina, honey, let me help you."

If you were to ask Janis how her Spring Fling was gonna go, she wouldn't have thought it would be this.

Shane had dumped Regina on her and Y/N, before running off to dance.

Y/N and Regina were close so when the blonde saw Y/N, her eyes lit up.

"Y/N/N! My baby. How are you?"

Janis chuckled at the girl. Regina turned at the sound and her eyes got wide. "Janis! Oh my god, I've missed you so much!" Janis smiled awkwardly at the blonde and they widened as Regina threw herself in to Regina's arms.

Y/N had to stifle a giggle as Janis glared at her, awkwardly patting Regina's back. Y/N softly spoke to Regina. "Hi, sweetie. Are you feeling okay? Do you need your meds or anything?"

Well, that was the wrong thing to say as Regina turned to Y/N with tears in her eyes. Her lip wobbled as she threw herself into Y/N's arms, who welcomed her gladly.

"No! I'm in pain, and Shane left me alone and I just wanna be out of this fucking brace!" Janis felt bad at the blonde's words. She didn't like her but she didn't deserve this.

Janis sighed and said words she'd probably regret.

"We'll hang out with you Regina."

Y/N and Regina looked at Janis shocked. Regina had tears in her eyes again. "Really?" Janis nodded, looking at her girlfriend with an awkward smile. "Yeah, Gina, you can hang out with us! We'll take care of you, sweetie."

The blonde did a little happy dance, before pain shot through her back and she winced. Y/N noticed and gently guided the girl to a chair. "Do you need more meds, Gina?" The blonde nodded to the best of her ability.

"They are in my bag. I think Cady has it." Y/N nodded, pressing a kiss to Regina's head and one to Janis's lips. "I'll be back okay? You guys don't have too much fun without me okay?"

Y/N found Cady with Gretchen at a table on the other side of the gym. Cady happily handed her the bag, before catching something behind Y/N.

Y/N followed Cady's eye line and laughed out loud. Regina must've gotten thirsty so Janis was attempting to help Regina drink out of a cup. It looked like a mother helping her toddler. Y/N pulled out her phone and videoed it.

Janis was holding the cup as Regina slowly swallowed the mouthful of liquid she had. She held her arms out like she was going to ask for another drink, but to Janis's surprise, she pulled her into a hug.

Y/N cackled as Janis awkwardly patted Regina's head. She turned to see Y/N laughing at her and sent her a glare. Y/N stopped recording and made her way to the duo. Janis handed Y/N the cup and playfully glared at her. "Your turn."

The dance dwindled on for a few more hours before everyone started to head out. Y/N had offered to take Regina home so after her and Janis got her in the car safely, they headed to the blonde's house.

Regina had fallen asleep rather quickly in the car so Janis and Y/N talked quietly with each other. "I had a fun time tonight, even if we had to babysit Regina."

Y/N smiled and put her hand on Janis's thigh. "I had fun too baby. Regina happened to be a plus." As if on cue, the blonde mumbled incoherent words and went silent again. The two girls giggled as they sat in comfortable silence.

After dropping Regina off at home, after 10 minutes of her mom talking their ears off, Y/N and Janis got back in Y/N's car. As they drove off, Janis noticed Y/N wasn't driving to her house.

"Uh, babe? We aren't going to my house?" Y/N smirked, placing her hand high on Janis's thigh. "Nope. We are going to my house. My parents aren't home."

Janis blushed and stuttered. Y/N giggled at her reaction.

"The night isn't over yet baby."

[medusapelagia]

12 Nothing left

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Terrible Things – Mayday Parade ) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: animagus ) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: mention of plane crash, mention of Steve’s parents death, suicidal thoughts, magic Words: 1735

The grumpy black cat shows at his door for the fifth night in a row, demanding loudly to be fed the fancy tuna Steve’s mom used to buy in the bio shop.

He has never had an animal and even if the cat is definitely a stray with no collar and probably full of fleas, he doesn’t seem eager to get a family. He wants his fancy tuna, nothing more.

Steve sighs, goes into the kitchen to grab a little dish and the can of tuna then he gets back and grabs some water too, and goes back to his backyard. The black cat is still there, staring at his reflection in the water like it was something unusual, but his pointed ears flinch when he hears the door slide open and turns toward Steve with a soft mew that makes Steve chuckle.

He doesn’t step closer until the food and the water are neatly positioned on the plates and Steve has moved away, staring at him from one of the deck chairs. The cat eats quietly, always very aware of Steve’s presence, and when he’s done he licks his thick black fur and then he blinks at Steve with his eyes so dark that they seem to hold all the secrets of the universe and then he disappears through the woods.

Steve sighs, realizing that the cat visits are the best moment of his day. In the last two weeks, his entire life was destroyed. He lost his place as the alpha male at school and his parents… 

He puts his hands into his hair and pulls until he chokes back the tears.

His parents are dead. The plane they rented to get on that stupid island never made it. They are dead somewhere in the ocean. No flight data recorder, no plane, no emergency call. Nothing. Just Cindy, his father’s secretary, calling him to give him the news.

And that’s not all. 

His father wasn’t the great businessman he pretended to be. He had so many debts that Steve would have to renounce his inheritance if he doesn’t want to drown in his debts. Still, he’s feeding a stray cat the best tuna in town and pretending that everything is fine.

The news of the accident didn’t make it on the news to protect Steve from debt collectors so none knows that he has nothing left. None knows that some days he wonders if it wouldn’t be easy for him to just put an end to his misery.

He was having those kinds of thoughts the first time the cat showed up. Big, furry, and loud. He has mewled until he got Steve’s attention and since that day he has shown up every night, at the same hour, when waves of despair fill Steve’s lungs, making breathing an unbearable task.

It’s just a coincidence, Steve isn’t so naive to believe that a stray cat is trying to save him, but he has found himself waiting eagerly for the elegant animal to come to visit. 

While Steve cleans the little plates he reminds himself that he should try to find a job, but that would mean that the entire town will know that he has nothing left and his stupid pride won’t let him. He sighs loudly. He has one week to leave the house, then it will be put on sale and he’ll have to start living in his car like a homeless guy at nineteen.

That’s not the life he thought was waiting for him.

A scratch on the door attracts his attention, and the big black cat is back, holding a lizard in his mouth.

Steve chuckles, opening the door to let him in, “Come on. I don’t bite.” Steve chuckles, while the cat weary gets inside, leaving his bloody prey on the Persian carpet. Steve will put it in the trash as soon as the cat leaves, but it’s nice seeing that at least he has a friend left.

“Milk?” he asks the cat, not really waiting for an answer but pouring some in a little plate while he grabs his beer, “You must be thirsty after your hunt.”

Steve cracks the beer can open while the cat slowly laps the milk.

“I’m having a hell of a week.” Steve complains, drinking his beer, “My parents died in a plane crash. They didn’t even have a funeral because there was no body to retrieve. They asked me if I wanted a commemoration ceremony but it didn’t make sense to bury two empty caskets in old Lord Harrington chapel, you know?” he drinks some more, “Oh, and I’m full of debts. And I’m going to lose the house soon. Hope the new owner will be kind to you. You’re a good guy. You even brought me a lizard.” Steve chuckles, grabbing another beer, and another until he’s too drunk to stand and he simply sits on the Valentino’s tiles his mom personally chose when they moved.

“I won’t even be present at the graduation ceremony. The Principal told me he’d have my diploma delivered where I wanted. But I have no idea where the hell I’m going to stay. Not here, that’s for sure, but I don't know how comfortable my car is for sleeping. Had a few hookups but never slept there. Not even once. Maybe I should have tried ahead. To be ready. And you have to take care, little friend.” Steve sighs, “I'm only telling you this because life can do terrible things. You can’t know it but I used to be sort of good at school, I was rich and famous and had the prettiest girl in school. Then another boy came and claimed my crown. My friends left me. My parents died. And all I’m left with is a car and a stray cat that loves my mom’s fancy tuna.”

The cat steps closely so slowly that for a moment Steve thinks that he’s imagining it, but after a few moments the cat is standing next to his feet, his dark eyes pointed at Steve like he had understood his entire discourse and he was sorry for him.

Those eyes are dark, so dark, almost magnetic. But he’s just a cat and Steve has drunk too much. He should go to bed.

“Yes, you should.” the cat says, and Steve giggles.

“Cats don’t talk. God I drank too much.” he decides, standing up and wobbling toward his room, moving one leg after the other but feeling that it's not him who’s ordering his limbs to move.

Bullshit.

He’s just drunk.

***

When he wakes up the next day the sun shines too brightly and he curses himself for drinking too much. On his night table, there’s a big glass of water and some Advil. At least past him foresaw that he was going to need them in the morning.

He slowly steps down the stairs, but he freezes: someone is singing in his kitchen. Steve grabs an umbrella from the umbrella rack and steps quietly into the kitchen. In front of the fires, cooking some eggs and bacon stands a beautiful man with long black hair and deep dark eyes.

“Good morning.” He says, smirking, and his teeth look a little bit too sharp.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Steve asks, holding the umbrella tight to his chest.

“Are you threatening me with an umbrella, Steve? For real?”

“How do you know my name?!”

“I know many things about you. And I know you had an awful week and that you need to eat something more than chips and candies. Sit down. It’s almost ready.”

“How did you get in?”

“You invited me.”

“I never did such a thing.”

The man turns with a little smirk, and his tongue flickers on his lower lips just for a moment in a very familiar way.

“This can’t be true. I must be still asleep!”

“What can’t be true?”

“You… your tongue… the cat… it’s not…”

“I need my opposable thumbs to cook, but I guess I can indulge you for a moment.” the man winks, and with a puff he disappears.

“Where the hell…?”

But when Steve circumnavigates the table the big black cat is staring at him with the same smirk the man had.

“Do you prefer this form? My uncle says I’m cuter like this.”

Steve startles and falls on the ground, hitting the floor harshly, while the cat steps closer to him, climbing his legs with ease.

“Hi, Steve. I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you. Now can you tell me where are you hiding that incredible tuna? I really enjoyed it.”

Steve points a shivering finger toward a kitchen cabinet, and Eddie gets down from his lap and turns back into a human to open the kitchen cabinet, “Here it is! I’m going to miss it when we move.”

“We… what?”

“My uncle is coming to visit soon, he’ll decide if you are one of us, but I already know you are.”

“One of you?”

“Animagus. Mages that can change into animals.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are, Eddie confirms, putting some eggs and bacon on a plate and offering it to Steve, “That’s how I found you.”

“I… I didn’t transform into an animal.”

“No, you didn't.” Eddie replies, nudging the plate closer to him, “But you almost did. I smell the stench of your despair from miles away. I just had to make sure before calling Wayne, don’t want to make the old man travel so long for a false alarm, you know?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Eat, Stevie.” Eddie insists, taking a chair and putting the tuna on a little plate but eating it with a fork this time, “Phoenix burn themselves when they’re desperate.” Eddie says, licking his lips, “And you almost did.” He explains, holding the fork and gesturing with it while he talks, “I thought you were a grumpy old man tired of living between normies. You can easily understand how surprised I was to see a young phoenix with no training abandoned in a huge and empty house.”

A knock on the window interrupts them and when Steve turns the biggest eagle he ever saw is staring at him with his head tilted to the side.

“Oh, that’s Wayne.  He’ll explain it better. Anyway, if he says you’re one of us you’re coming with us.”

“Where?”

“Home.”

[impala-dreamer]

The Beat Of Your Heart

A Supernatural Story

~ Friends become lovers who turn into the darkest evil that one can endure... ~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader; Michael!Dean x F!Reader

8,587 Words

NSFW, Fluff, Cute Banter, Friends To Lovers, There Was Only One Bed!?, All the Sex, Passionate Love, Hope, *record scratch*, Extreme Angst, Violence, NonCon, Torture, Blood, Major Character Death

For @jacklesversebingo “Friends to Enemies to Lovers” square

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

She wasn’t bound by metal or rope. He hadn’t held her down with force or threatened her obedience with a blade. He had simply invited her to sit in the plush white armchair in front of the large wall of windows and she’d complied. 

As the sky darkened over the Chicago skyline, she sat with a blank expression, utterly frozen by fear. Her legs were crossed at the ankles and she held her hands clasped in her lap. She waited for him to speak, to move, to attack- she had no idea what was coming and it terrified her more than the icy flight he’d taken her on. 

Ripped off her feet in the middle of the street, he’d wrapped an arm around her middle and taken to the skies. The air was frigid; his grip unyielding. She’d hid her face from the cold, cringing into the lapels of his coat, and held on as tightly as she could. 

Minutes? An hour? A Day? She had no idea how long they moved through the clouds, but it was long enough to say a prayer and beg for help. 

There was no answer except his callous laughter in her ear. 

“They’re not coming to save you.” 

Those were the only words he’d spoken before and since. 

Y/N watched as he got comfortable. He took off his cap and carefully shed his coat. The ensemble was strange and only added to the unease in her gut. 

Dean would never wear something so tailored, so proper. 

Michael wore it well. 

He paid her no mind while walking around the posh suite. He hung his coat in the closet and placed his cap on the empty shelf above the rail. He checked his countenance in the mirror and ran a hand through his hair, setting it back in place after the long, windy flight. 

Y/N let her eyes turn to the room. Despite his seeming familiarity with the area, the place seemed untouched. The bed was made with crisp corners and perfect lines. Every fiber of the white carpet was fluffed and in place; every pillow on the couch was plump. The walls were paneled in dark mahogany wood, interspersed with calming muted blue trim and highlights. Prints of black and white cities hung catty corner on the walls by the door, and dual vases of tall white orchids framed the large bed. Everything was in perfect order, fit for a celebrity in residence.

The seating area she occupied held a bar to the left and Michael busied himself there, filling two crystal glasses halfway with scotch. 

He held one up to the window, letting the evening sun shine through. He turned it slowly and a tiny rainbow swept across his cheek. 

She couldn’t take her eyes off of it, or him. 

Michael’s eyes turned to her and narrowed. He rounded the bar and offered her the glass in his right hand. She hesitated but ultimately took it. One last drink for the doomed. 

“I’ve never had a taste for alcohol,” Michael said, settling into the chair opposite her. “But Dean’s… tongue seems to enjoy it.”

She shivered at the name, at the idea that Dean was sitting there but not. That Dean’s voice was speaking to her but not. She raised her glass and mustered up the courage to go down without giving him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. 

“To your health,” she toasted. 

He grinned and lifted his tumbler. “To yours.”

Michael took a delicate sip, but Y/N drank hers down in three hard gulps, hoping the sting would clear her head and the alcohol would steel her nerves. 

“Gluttony… How quaint.”

Michael never seemed to blink. His eyes stayed clear and focused on her face no matter how she reacted or moved. 

“Yeah, well, I was thirsty.” She clung to the glass as if it were the only thing holding her together. Her fingers tensed so tightly over the intricate designs cut into the sides, she wondered if she would bleed. “So, this is your… lair or whatever?”

He laughed gently at the term. “It’s just a room.”

Y/N nodded and looked away as if scanning the decor. “You bring all your victims here?” 

Michael took another drink. “Only the special ones.” 

“I’m special?” Y/N managed an impressed laugh. “Well, at least I got that goin’ for me.” She went to take another sip and remembered she was out of scotch. Holding up the glass, she shook it a bit and nodded towards the bar. “You mind?” 

Michael nodded slowly and Y/N managed to peel herself off the chair and walk on shaky legs to the bar. 

“Do you not think you are special?” he asked, not bothering to look over his shoulder at her. 

“Not at the moment, no.” Y/N unscrewed the bottle and tipped it into her glass. She drank it down quickly and refilled. Drunk was better than feeling the pain of whatever was coming. 

“Dean certainly believed that you were. He… begged me not to harm you.” 

His words stung her deep and she knocked back a third shot. 

“Oh?” 

“He’s… struggling even now.” Michael rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “He’s screaming… beating his fists… ordering me to set you free.” 

Y/N swallowed back the hurt and guilt. “Yeah, that sounds like Dean.” A fourth pour filled her glass. “He probably won’t stop, so maybe you should just vacate and go about your business in another suit.” 

Michael exhaled sharply and the lights flickered. His hand opened and closed over the arm of the chair, tensing over the fabric in an attempt to calm himself. 

He growled. “Come sit, Y/N.” 

She grabbed the bottle and followed his command. 

Michael set his unfinished scotch on the glass coffee table next to them and sat back, his spine straight, his face a cool mask of authority. 

“You need to contain your… attitude.”  

The sharpness in his voice forced fear to coat her skin. Goosebumps rose on her arms and chest as she sat down, pressing as far into the back of the chair as she could. 

“Hard not to be sassy when you’re on your deathbed.” She hid her shaking hand by gripping the glass and taking a heavy sip. “Kinda wanna go out with a bang.” 

She expected anger to follow, but Michael tipped his head to the side, curiously staring at her. 

“You are special, aren’t you?” He leaned forward a bit, peering deeper into her soul. 

Y/N could feel the prying gaze as if he were methodically peeling back her being layer by layer. A tightness closed around her heart and she held her breath for fear of crying out. 

“Dean was right in that assertion.” Michael dipped his chin and his eyes glowed a faint blue as a trickle of his Grace seeped free. “I have no concept of physical beauty, but… your… soul is quite intriguing. Your mind…” 

The intrusive feeling worked its way up to her head and Y/N felt as if her brain were swelling. A migraine-like throbbing began at her temples and she shut her eyes tight. 

“...Very impressive…” He licked his lips slowly as if tasting her essence. “Not overly intelligent, but you do make up for it in… what do they say? Personality.”

She wanted to snap back with a witty dig, but the pain worsened. His Grace prodded her mind and the throbbing grew worse, spreading across her scalp and localizing between her eyes. The bottle and glass fell to the floor as she grabbed her head. The amber liquid ran free, soaking into the pure white carpet. 

Pain spread like fire through a labyrinth, following the pathways between the gray matter of her brain.  “S-stop!”

Impressed, Michael’s mouth turned up in a half smile, and he dug in deeper. 

“The way your human brains work is so… fascinating.” 

Y/N’s eyes rolled back, unable to focus. She clawed at the sides of her head, desperate to ease the pain or at least divert it. 

“Electrical impulses shoot through every cell, keeping the brain alive… controlling the body… but the real you- your… soul… is in there as well.”

Nausea struck her and Y/N doubled over, dry heaving with her head between her knees. “Please! Stop…”

“What you perceive as ‘You’ is crammed up in the folds and crevices of your physical brain and yet… If I take you away… The brain still functions.” 

She hit the floor with a trembling cry. The vice in her head was tightening and she was sure she’d be gone in less than a minute. 

“So what good is your soul, Y/N?” he asked, falling to one knee and hovering over her. Curled in the fetal position, she had no defenses against his hand, or the Grace he pushed harder into her skull. “What are you if not a heavenly battery?” Michael traced a finger slowly down her cheek and the pain stopped. 

With a gasping breath, she sat up and scrambled away. She coughed hard, blinked to clear her vision, and tried to stand. Her legs were numb, her arms practically useless. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, barely a whisper above her tears. 

Michael spread his hands in a holy gesture. “Because I can. Because it’s slowly killing your lover.”

Her eyes went wide. Tears stung but she refused to look away. “Dean?” 

“Yes.” Michael smiled softly. “He’s fighting me. Clawing at me.” He sighed. “He wants you safe but… I think this is more fun.” 

Her stomach churned. “This is fun for you?” 

He shrugged. “Not really, but it is amusing hearing him beg for your life.” Michael closed his eyes for a moment, listening to Dean plead and threaten. “So sad.” 

Panting, Y/N fell forward onto her hands and knees. She was as close to him as she dared get, and she grit her teeth, hoping Dean could hear her. 

“Fuck. You.” 

Michael laughed. 

“You pathetic excuse for an archangel.” Her body ached but she pushed on, watching the twitch in his jaw as his anger surged. “I’ve met angels. Hell, I fucked one once. But you- you are no angel…” 

Electric blue flashed through his eyes and Michael sucked in a deep breath. “Are you sure you wish to continue?”  

Y/N pushed herself up, rising as he did. “Oh, I am. You distorted, alternate universe, bland Xerox copy of an angel.” She swayed on her feet but defiance kept her upright even as Michael towered over her. “I’m amazed you can even possess Dean, you weak excuse for the Commander of the Holy Hosts.”

Having had enough of her, Michael lifted his left hand and sent Y/N flying back towards the window with a burst of ethereal strength. Her scream echoed through the room, covered only by the sound of glass as it shattered around her. 

Pushed through the window, Y/N felt a moment of pure weightlessness before gravity took hold. Her body was pulled by the ground and she began to plummet the twenty-seven stories to the cement below. 

She held her breath against the rushing wind and the sting of a million shards of glass cutting into her flesh. 

She stared up into the pink dusk of sunset and said goodbye to the world, to Dean, to everything above and below.

“Holy shit!” Y/N doubled over, hands clutching her knees as she panted, amazed and out of breath from the fight. “That was insane.”  

Dean rushed up behind her. His boots came into view and Y/N looked up in time to see him collapse against the Impala’s hood. He leaned back and exhaled heavily. His face was splashed in blood; the left pocket of his green canvas jacket torn by fangs.

She cringed and reached for his pocket. “Did it bite you?”

Swallowing hard, Dean shook his head and reached into the canvas. “No. Just took a chunk out of my damn phone.” He pulled the useless thing out and flashed her the screen. It was punctured by a single hole that shattered the glass in a thick web. 

“Well, it’s… just a screen,” she said hopefully. “They can replace it.”

With an annoyed brow lifted, Dean flipped the device over and showed the three additional holes piercing through the phone.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

She laughed. 

He rolled his eyes and shoved the ruined cell back into his pocket. “Fucking dogs.” 

Y/N’s initial shock returned and her jaw dropped. “Right? Have you ever seen a pack of demon-possessed dogs before? How- What?”

Dean laughed this time. “I have not.” He scrubbed a hand down his face and pulled away a glob of fur and blood. “Ew.” 

Y/N tried to politely hide the fact that she nearly gagged as he flicked the muck aside. 

“You’ve got a bit…” He pointed at her throat and then gestured to his own, showing her where to search. 

“Oh, come on!” She beat at the side of her neck and smacked the mess away. “So gross!” 

“Could be worse.”

“How?”

Dean looked from her to the house they’d left behind and shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know.” 

Laughter trickled between them. 

“I’m glad you called,” Dean said offhandedly as his gaze returned to her. “I’d hate to hear through the grapevine that you’d been ripped to shreds by a pack of wild purebreds.” 

Y/N ran a hand over her hair and tugged at her ponytail, tightening the elastic. “I’m so confused. Why purebred poodles? Why?”  

Dean shook his head and bit his lip, just as confused. “Wish I could tell you I understood this shit. I don’t. I just kill it.” 

She let out a heavy breath and lay a hand on her chest. “Fuck, my heart is beating so fast!” Amazed, she took a step closer to Dean. “Feel it-” Taking his hand, she covered her heart. 

He could feel it pounding, racing to restore blood flow to the proper areas while her muscles relaxed. “Damn…” 

He didn’t move to pull back and she didn’t cringe. They stood in the newborn quiet for a moment, just enjoying the fact that they were alive and the problem had been solved. 

When awkward struck hard, Dean smiled shyly and took a step back. 

Y/N coughed a bit under her breath and looked away. 

He cleared his throat.

“So, yeah-” 

“You wanna-”

He froze. “I’m sorry?” 

She laughed. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to go grab some food. I’m strangely starving.” 

Dean exhaled away a breath of worry and licked his lip. “As long as you’re buyin’ I’m eatin’.” He fished the car keys from his pocket and walked around to the driver’s side. 

“Me?” Y/N followed to the car, yanking open the passenger door with a loud creak of metal on metal. “I saved your life in there, man. I think you owe me.” 

He paused with one foot in the car and squinted over the roof. “Who saved who now?” 

“I saved you,” she said again, hopping in. “That hair-bowed bitch had you by the short an’ curlies before I got to you.” 

The leather crackled under his weight and the door eeked shut. “I had it under control.” 

“Sure you did.”

He turned the key and shot her a look over his shoulder as she settled into the seat. She was sassy and cute, and only slightly annoying. He liked hanging out with her, so he’d give her this one. 

“Well…” The engine roared to life and he cranked it into gear. “Thanks.”   

Y/N rolled down the window and took a breath of fresh air. A smile lit her lips and she sighed happily. He was fun. Annoying and stupid at times, but brave and kind. She liked being around him, so she decided not to push it too far. But a little never hurt anybody. 

“You can thank me with extra cheese.”

Dean laughed. “Deal.”

Y/N woke with a gasping scream, finding herself safe on the plush mattress and not splattered like a bug on the Chicago pavement. 

Michael was nearby, tinkering with something on the dresser by the foot of the bed. 

She cleared her throat and felt each rip her screams had caused. “What happened?” 

Michael turned his head, slowly looking over his shoulder at her. “You were angering me, so I stopped you.” 

Her heart was racing, terror pulsing through her limbs. She sat up against the pillows. “You- You pushed me out of the fucking window!” 

The glass-less window showed her the truth, letting in cold streams of air and the faint sounds of traffic below. 

“I did warn you.” 

The icy air hit her skin and Y/N looked down to see that she was naked. A hundred tiny cuts marred her arms and neck, but they no longer bled. Michael had healed them enough to keep her alive. He’d saved her from being crushed by gravity and concrete, but for what?

Y/N hugged her chest and crossed her legs, hiding her body as best she could. 

“Why did you save me?” she asked, calmer yet trembling. 

Michael turned around and she saw that his clothing had been reduced to a simple white t-shirt and plain white boxers. She shivered at the sight. Dean’s broad shoulders, muscular arms, thick thighs- but it was wrong. So wrong. 

“I wasn’t finished with you,” he replied simply. “I’m not through… examining you.” 

Her stomach flipped. “Examining me?” 

“Studying… observing… experimenting.” 

The word dried her mouth, tugged at her heart, flashed horrific scenes behind her eyes. “What- what are you going to do to me?” 

A bit of metal flashed in his hand as he approached. He held the scalpel tight between two fingers and knelt on the bed. The mattress dipped beneath his weight and Y/N cowered higher up against the padded headboard.

“I’ve looked into your mind, Y/N.” 

He came closer and fear blurred her vision. 

“I’ve tasted your soul.” 

Unexpectedly, he reached over and set the blade down on the nightstand. Y/N held her breath as he bridged over her body, refusing to sully the memory of Dean’s scent. 

“Now I want to know the rest of you.” 

Her brow furrowed with question but it was soon answered. Michael lay his palm against her cheek and Y/N shivered at the cool touch. Slowly, he dragged his fingers down to grip her chin and lift it upward. 

“I want to know… why Dean thinks you are so… incredible that he’s willing to trade his life… for yours.”

She shook her head. “He wouldn’t.” 

Michael grinned devilishly and pressed his lips to hers. 

The intimacy was torture. 

She remembered the push of Dean’s lips, every line of his chapped skin, the rhythm, the taste. Michael’s kiss was different. There was no swift breath escaping to float across her cheek; no desperate pressure behind it, no hunger. It was clinical, as if Michael had studied a textbook explaining the basic mechanics of the act. 

When he pulled back, he cocked his head and peered down at Y/N as if she had done something wrong. 

“It’s… rather… pointless, isn’t it?” he asked. 

Y/N stiffened and tried to squirm away, but Michael placed a heavy hand on her stomach, halting any movement. 

“What is?” 

“Kissing,” he clarified. “It’s crude and unsanitary.” 

She couldn’t help but laugh under her breath. “If you think that’s unsanitary, you should try oral.” 

His eyes widened with the sparkling idea and Y/N shook her head quickly. 

“No. No. It was… just a joke. You’re so right. Kissing is disgusting. I hate it. I hate kissing.”

“Dean recalls that you enjoyed it.” He bent down again, this time letting his breath coast across her lips. “He has many memories of your body, your… lips… the way you kissed him. He appeared to savor it.”

Again, he kissed her. This time, he drew from the memories he had stolen from his host, and the kiss was warmer, deeper. She shuddered when his tongue pushed through her lips, cringed when he licked the roof of her mouth. She wouldn’t engage, refusing to kiss him back. When he wouldn’t relent, she shoved at his chest and he pulled back, eyes bright with rage. 

“Did you not learn from your skydive earlier?” He grabbed the offending hand and twisted her wrist. The bone cracked and Y/N screamed as he shoved her arm into the pillow by her head. “Do not resist me.” 

Pain splintered up her arm and heat swelled around her wrist. She had felt worse before, but it had never been his hands, never been his face. 

“Please…” 

She cried through a heavy sob but Michael was unmoved by her pain.

Continuing his investigation, Michael licked at her lips once more. His lips trailed across her jaw and settled on her throat. “You will not fight me,” he warned. He pressed his lips against her pulse and closed his eyes, listening to the artery work. “You will submit.”

Y/N’s skin crawled and rebellion raged inside her. Dean wouldn’t want her to lay there helplessly whimpering. He’d tell her to fight no matter what. 

“If you gotta go, go down swinging.”

She took a breath and brought her knee up as fast and hard as she could, jamming it into his crotch. 

The angel fell back, not in pain, but surprise. 

He straightened up and grit his teeth, seething. The lights flickered and Y/N braced herself for whatever punishment she had coming. 

Instead of widespread pain doled out by invisible force, Michael balled his fist and swung at her. Unprepared, Y/N didn’t even attempt to move out of the way, and his knuckles sunk into her cheek. 

Another jolt of pain, another snapped bone. She screamed behind the hand he closed over her mouth. 

Leaning back down, Michael inched close to her face, green eyes twitching over the skin, watching as the blood vessels ruptured and oozed beneath the surface. 

“Miraculous…” 

It wasn’t just the pain, she could handle that. 

It was the way his eyes ticked over her face. The eyes that she loved, now utterly corrupted. 

It was the way his knuckles broke through her bones. The knuckles she had so often kissed, now brought devastation. 

It was the way his face contorted with clinical interest; the way words fell from familiar lips with otherworldly cadence. The voice she had loved her whole life, the lips she had kissed a thousand times, the face she dreamt of every night: it was infected with all the evil that Heaven could produce. 

Sick with pain, but flooded with spirited, dumb courage, Y/N pulled back her lips and sank her teeth into Michael’s palm. 

The punishment was severe. 

Another broken bone, another prodding investigation as the welt blossomed on her nose and her right eye sealed shut.

“You will behave.” 

Out of hope, Y/N agreed. “Yes. I’m- I’m sorry. I’ll behave!” Her voice sounded foreign, so defeated and raspy she barely recognized herself. 

Michael’s eyes glowed a bright, piercing blue. “I know you will.” 

She felt it again, that startling and somehow arousing burst of sensation as his Grace flowed into her. It worked on her instantly: stretching her arms out across the bed and spreading her legs wide. It locked her head in place and pulled her jaw slack. Not a muscle could move by her will, not a sound could be made except the quick, panting breaths that left her lips. 

She was frozen, held captive by his heavenly magic. 

Her eyes filled with tears as he straddled her hips, making himself more comfortable now that she was agreeable. 

The blue faded back to green, but the Grace stayed inside of her, holding her still. Without her resistance, Michael was free to inspect every inch of her body, inside and out. 

He reveled at the length and thickness of her eyelashes, plucking one from each open lid and tested them against each other. 

He pulled her lips further apart and ran his fingers through her mouth, feeling each minuscule bump on her tongue, the cut of each tooth, the strands of muscles lining her throat. 

Horror flashed through her eyes, unable to swallow or gag as he forced his hand deeper down her esophagus. With the passage obstructed, her breathing became heavy and labored. Her heart struggled and Michael counted each tick of the muscle. 

“So… intricate.” His wet fingers traced her collarbone. “So mechanical, every bit of you.” Scooting down, Michael set his sights on her chest. He ran his palm across her right breast and marveled as her nipple hardened at his chilly touch. “Humans truly are works of art…” He toyed with it, pinching and flicking, tugging hard and rolling gently. 

Y/N couldn’t shy away or even close her eyes as his unwanted touch continued. 

Fascinated, Michael swirled his tongue over her nipple. Her skin warmed and he felt the faint increase in temperature. Moving to the left side, he bit down on her tit and watched as blood met the indentation. He groped both breasts, kneading and pinching like he’d seen Dean do in his memories. 

Y/N couldn’t help the automatic flush of her body or the way her pussy throbbed and leaked. She could only pray that he wouldn’t notice, that he wouldn’t understand. 

Michael felt everything. He heard the blood as it rushed to her sex, smelled the arousal, and sensed her heat rise. 

“I have watched humans for eons… but never have I observed a body so… closely.”

Her eyes burned. She screamed inside. 

Michael slid a hand down her body and pressed it flat between her thighs. 

If she could have moved, she would have fought. She would have raged and kicked and thrashed at him. She would have fought until her body gave out and she had no choice but to jump through the broken window. She would have fallen happily. 

His touch was worse than death.

The wetness he touched made his eyes widen and his lips curl into a rapt smile. He dipped his fingers into her cunt, pulling out the warm slick and examining it closely. 

“How… wondrous.” 

Falling down, Michael jabbed his tongue between her folds and lapped at her hole, sucking the wetness and swallowing it down. His angelic mind calculated every molecule, sorting out cells and mapping its creation. As he licked, he saw her pussy respond. Blood filled her clit, making it hard. The skin of her lips darkened. He watched the muscles clench and heard the blood pump. 

“Blood… is everything, isn’t it?” He floated back up to look into her paralyzed face. “It is in every part of you, controlling your muscles, allowing your mind to churn, your cunt to ache. It’s… the perfect fluid.”

Y/N prayed for release. She called to Castiel, to Gabriel, to any and every angel she’d ever met and those whose names she’d only read on the thin pages of her father’s bible. 

Michael wiped a tear from her cheek. “They cannot help you, Y/N.”

She called to Rowena; she screamed for Jack. 

“No one can hear your prayers. You’re with me and I am hidden from all.”    

He held her gaze, listening to her thoughts. In one final, pathetic attempt for help, she cried for Dean. If he was in there, if Michael could see Dean’s memory, then maybe Dean could see through his eyes. 

Help me…

Michael laughed softly and kissed her forehead. “Nice try.” 

Her heart beat against its cage, thrumming faster and harder as she realized there was no end to the torture and no cavalry on its way to save her. 

Distracted by the pounding beat, Michael dropped his hand to her chest, covering her heart. He closed his eyes and felt each thump, heard the valves opening and closing, allowing the sacred wine to flow through. 

“Blood…” he whispered, entranced by the rhythmic palpitations. “Each beat keeping you alive… and for what?”

“I’m so glad you called, Dean. It’s really nice to see you.” 

Her whisper invaded his senses, making him temporarily forget that they were trapped in a closet together with death tiptoeing beyond the door. Dean held his breath when she looked up at him. In the dark, she looked so small and delicate, like a thing he needed to cradle and protect. The light streaming in through the seams of the door struck her face in the most beautiful ways, highlighting the curl of her lashes and the turn of her upper lip. She pressed in closer, simply trying to readjust herself in the cramped space, and Dean found himself against a rock and a soft place. His blood surged south and he had to shake the idea away lest she feel it too. 

He cleared his throat gently and stood up straighter, hoping to give himself an inch or seven. “Yeah, well, you could have ignored the call.”

She let out a faint laugh. “I could have. But then where would we be?” 

“Not hiding in this closet, that’s for sure.” 

Y/N bit her lip and stared up at him as he squirmed. The light was hitting his chin and the long line of his neck. She could see the hint of a scar by his ear and the shadow of a beard creeping up. He looked so big like this. So broad and muscular, safe. She swallowed hard and prayed he couldn’t feel how hot she suddenly was. 

“Jokes aside,” she whispered. “I am glad. I missed you.” 

Her smile was soft and he wanted to press the tips of his fingers to her lips and feel the pull. 

“Me too…” 

Realization struck them both like lightning and for the first time in years, they were on the same page. Attraction hit like a tidal wave and they both jerked back as far as they could, taking to the tiny corners of the dusty old closet in the back of that long hall in that big house on a hill in Tannersville. 

“Um… Dean?” 

He breathed in deeply, instantly regretting it as the sweet perfume of her shampoo flooded his brain and made his mouth water. “Yeah?”

“I was thinking, maybe- I mean if we ever get outta here-”

An inconvenient fact reared its face and broke the moment. The witch they were dealing with threw something against a wall nearby and the closet shook. Her wretched screech echoed through the darkness and Dean jumped, pressing one hand to his ear and the other to his gun.

“How ‘bout we, uh- put a pin in this. Yeah?” 

Y/N winced at the sharp pitch of the witch’s scream and nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Murder first, chat later. Gotcha!”

“Hey, it’s not murder if she’s an evil bitch.”

“Let’s debate semantics later, shall we?” Y/N gripped her blade tight. 

He grinned and reached for the doorknob. “After you…”

“Such a gentleman.” 

“Always.” 

The witch went down with more than a bit of a fight and the friends were too tired later for anything more than a drive-thru burger and a side of aspirin. 

They stuffed their faces with grease and questionable meat; washed it all down with a few warm beers. 

Dean managed to somehow smear ketchup on his ear and Y/N wiped it clear with the only remaining clean napkin. 

Y/N burped so loud that it shook the bed and sent Dean into an impressive fit of laughter.

They took turns showering, and when Y/N was done, she found Dean setting up the couch like a bed, spreading out a spare blanket, and beating a pillow into submission.

She rubbed her hair with the shitty motel towel while watching him. He was down to a single layer of light blue boxers and a tight black tee. His hair was still damp from the shower and spiked up on the top like an early 2000s flashback. She stared a bit too long and was startled when he turned around. 

“Have enough hot water?” he asked. 

Y/N shrugged. “You didn’t quite use all of it. Most. But not all.” 

He grinned and let his eyes fall down her body. She was ready for bed- braless in a purple tank top and loose cotton shorts. She flipped the wet towel onto the floor and Dean realized he was staring too much. 

“You sure you don’t wanna get another room?” she asked, moving over to the bed and tugging the sheet down. “You shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch.” 

A dangerous idea sparked in his brain, but he pushed it away. Sure, he could insist on sharing the bed, but there was a line he was too afraid to cross. They’d been friends for so long, sharing thoughts and dreams over text messages. There had been hundreds of video calls late at night when the world was crashing down around them; casual meet-ups when monsters brought them to the same part of the country. Despite how he felt, she’d never given him a hint, so he kept his feelings to himself. 

If he shared the bed, he knew he’d try something. 

If he tried something, she’d have to respond. 

If she rejected him- well, he wasn’t ready to ruin a friendship over a shitty motel room with only one bed. 

“Nah,” he replied, turning back to the sofa. “I’ve slept on worse.” 

Y/N shrugged as if she didn’t care where he slept, but inside she crumbled a bit. It was dumb to assume he’d want to share a bed with her, but she had hoped he might. Hope wasn’t a bad thing, just an annoying inconvenience that generally left her unsatisfied and listless. Hope kept her dreaming that someday he’d finally recognize the chemistry between them. Dreams made her long for his touch, praying that he’d rush at her, scoop her into his big arms, and kiss her so hard the whole world would fade away. Sure, she could make the first move but rejection was worse than hope.

“Cool.” 

Dean hung his head. “Cool.” 

Sleep was a lofty goal that neither could achieve. 

The alarm clock on the nightstand was buzzing slightly as if electricity was leaking out of it and sizzling in the air. Y/N tried to ignore it, but the irritation kept her from shutting her brain off. 

She rolled onto her left side and tucked the blanket between her legs. In the darkness, she could see Dean stretched out on the sofa. He was facing the door but she could make his perfect profile in the shadows. One hand was tucked beneath his head and the other rested on his stomach. Y/N watched it rise and fall with each breath, wondering what he was dreaming about.

She sighed and he shifted a bit, readjusting his hips. 

Her exhale rang in his ears and Dean chewed his bottom lip as he stared at the ceiling. He’d fallen asleep twice, but each time his imagination pushed him awake. He wasn’t sure if it was a dream or his mind running wild, but he saw Y/N lying in his arms, face shimmering and lips wet. He felt her legs quake as he tasted her sweetness. Each time, he’d wake up with an aching cock and unrequited desire.

He huffed gently and she sat up on her elbow. 

“You up?” she whispered, squinting at his silhouette. 

Dean smiled to himself and waved at her over his head. “Why are you?” 

“Dunno. Brain won’t shut up.” She threw back the blanket and the bed creaked as she swung her legs over the side. “Why are you?” 

“Same.” He scrubbed a hand down his face and scratched at the tiny hairs on his jaw. “You wanna get a dr-”

Y/N was at his side before he knew it, biting her lip innocently as she knelt on the sofa. 

His eyes went wide and he sat up a bit. “Hi.”

She smiled. “Hi.” 

Without asking, she turned and moved to lay down beside him. Dean shifted, pressing himself into the back of the couch to give her room.

“This OK?” she asked, already settling down. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Uh. Yeah…” 

She grabbed his hand and tugged his arm to fit around the curve of her waist. 

“And this?” 

He lay down and curled up behind her. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” 

It took a moment for their bodies to relax, for their brains to interpret the closeness or register the meaning. Y/N nearly kicked herself for taking such a chance, but when she felt Dean relax against her back, she smiled. He pressed his face into her hair and took a breath, nearly moaning when he exhaled. 

Y/N rolled her ass back just an inch, but it was enough to set him on fire. His mind was racing with a thousand imagined scenarios, all ending with her brilliant smile and his name on her lips. His fingers tensed on her stomach and she let out a tiny whimper. 

Slowly, Dean dared to press his cheek against her ear. His hand moved up a fraction of an inch and Y/N dragged a finger across it, caressing his hand and up his arm. 

He kissed her cheek. 

She threaded her fingers into his. 

He breathed hot against her ear. 

She dragged his hand up her stomach, leading him up higher. 

He sucked her earlobe between his lips. 

She shivered and closed his palm over her breast.

He moaned. 

She twisted her neck and found his lips, breaking their friendship with a deep kiss. 

Dean licked into her mouth and his blood boiled, pushing every sensation into hyperdrive. Her lips felt like heaven, her touch was like fire. He palmed her tit, rolled her nipple gently, nibbled on her ear. 

Y/N melted for him. Her body went soft and pliable; her pussy dripped, her breath grew heavy and fast. She could feel how hard he was, pressing into her ass. She snuck a hand between them and rubbed at the tip of his cock. 

Dean hissed and groped her tits a little harder. 

Her fingers snuck into his boxers and she traced a gentle line down his shaft, teasing him. He pinched her nipple hard and her gasping moan filled the room. 

“Fuck, Y/N…”         

Her fingers closed around his thick cock and she arched her back, laying her throat bare for him. 

“You know,” she whispered, “the bed is bigger…” 

Dean turned his wrist and dragged his hand down to her shorts, gently teasing at the elastic hem. “True, but then we wouldn’t be so close.” He kissed her neck.

Her jaw dropped when his warm hand slid down, covering her pussy with light pressure. “Good point.” 

She stroked him slowly as he rubbed her cunt. He licked at her pulse while she caressed his sack. 

When his breath grew hot and fast, Y/N spun around and attacked his lips. She held his face in her hands and pushed every late-night dream, every lonely fantasy into her kiss. She wanted him to feel it. Wanted him to know how long she’d waited to touch him like this; how desperate she’d been to feel his hands on her. 

Dean tried to keep his eyes open, wanting to remember every second and sear it all into his memory, but her lips tugged them closed. Her kiss was so deep, so devastatingly perfect that he couldn’t hold on. His will vanished in a rush of lust and he grabbed at her soft flesh, plucked at her sensitive spots, rolled his hips against her wetness. 

“God, I wanna fuck you so bad,” he groaned, fingers digging into her ass while she bit down on his shoulder. 

Y/N hummed and licked at the bite marks she’d left. “Me too. Fuck, Dean…” 

He pulled her closer and she sat up, straddling his hips as she pulled her tank top off. Dean gripped her hips and stared in awe at her beautiful body writing above him. She rocked down onto him and he had never hated cotton so much. The layers between them prevented his cock from sliding in, but Y/N didn’t seem to mind. She rubbed her slick cunt up and down his shaft, driving them both insane. 

When he couldn’t take it anymore, Dean sat up and wrapped his arm around her back, holding her tight. He tried to stand but stumbled and Y/N laughed softly while fumbling for balance. 

They made it to the bed without injury; shed their clothes without hesitation. 

Dean pushed her onto her back and licked deep into her mouth. She moaned into him and scratched a hand through his hair. Her legs spread wide for him and Dean kissed his way down her body. She held her breath when his lips pressed into the softness of her inner thigh. 

“Always wanted to taste you,” he breathed, running the tip of his middle finger down her slit. 

Y/N’s legs shook and her fingers tensed over his scalp. “Please…” 

Dean smiled and exhaled gently while slipping his finger into her. She was wet and warm and he hummed darkly. 

“So fucking beautiful…” 

His tongue pressed flat over her pussy and then slid inside, swirling around her clit like a spiral that entranced her body and mind. Y/N squirmed against his mouth, held her breath when the pleasure spiked, tugged on his hair. It was as if her dreams were seeping into reality and God was answering every blasphemous prayer. 

Dean was ravenous, licking her hard and pushing his fingers deeper with each thrust of his wrist. He closed his eyes and listened to the hitch of her breath, the exquisite moans she set free. Every pulse of her cunt on his fingers made his cock twitch. Every buck of her hips made him suckle harder. He wanted to drown in her juices, happy to let this be his last act on earth. 

She came hard and fast, leaking pleasure onto his tongue. 

Dean pushed back enough to see her face. He kept his hand in place, fucking her through the throbbing orgasm even as she tried to push him away. 

“Dean… please…” 

Her brows creased and her lips pushed out in a pout that nearly broke his heart. He floated up to her, climbing up the mattress and shifting his right thigh between hers. She pressed down on the thick muscle and rocked hard as he kissed her again. She tasted herself on his lips and moaned. 

“You’re amazing…” 

Dean’s heart raced at the whispered praise and he kissed across her jaw and down, lapping at her throat and sucking a tiny mark on her shoulder. She scratched a hand down his back and grabbed his ass, tugging him forward. He fell down, his full weight crushing her into the bed. 

Y/N wrapped herself around him, arms and legs holding on tight. With every bit of strength she could muster, she rolled him onto his back and popped up, sitting on his stomach. 

Wide green eyes fell down her body, soaking in the perfect view. 

With the tables turned, Y/N followed his previous trek, laying kisses down the length of his torso and biting his inner thigh. Dean jumped at the sting and then relaxed into nothingness as she licked the head of his cock. 

She kissed and hummed at the peak of him and a drop of precum zinged her taste buds. Enthused, she took him in until she gagged and then pulled back with tightly sealed lips. 

Dean let out a moan that she’d remember until the day she died. His big hand fit against the top of her head, gently guiding her up and down until he was curling in on himself and fighting to hold back. 

“Fuck, Y/N/N… Ya... ya gotta stop or I’m done…” 

She retreated with a loud pop of her swollen lips and Dean reached for her face. He dragged her up and kissed her hard while rolling her back onto the pillow. 

“Want you, Dean…” 

He hummed and shifted between her legs. “Yeah?” 

She nodded quickly and clung to his broad shoulders. “Yes. So fucking bad…”

He nudged at her cunt, dipping his cock in only an inch. She shuddered and her nails sunk into his arms. 

“You OK?” he asked, watching her eyes flutter and her mouth go slack. 

Again, she nodded; her face washed in frustrated agony. “Please…”

He kissed her gently and then set his arms aside her head. 

When he pushed fully in, they both stopped. Time froze around them and for a long moment, there was nothing else in the world. She could feel him trembling and lay her hand on his cheek. He turned towards her hand and kissed her palm. 

There was no banter, no salacious teasing, no further begging. Dean fucked her slowly, taking his time to wind her pleasure back up to the highest point before they both gave in, breaking in each other’s arms and stealing the air from the rest of the world.  

When his pulse steadied, Dean rolled onto his side and held his head in his hand. He couldn’t stop looking at her, couldn’t stop smiling. 

Y/N felt a wave of shyness as he stared but it was the good kind. She wanted him to keep watching. She reached for his free hand and brought it to her lips, carefully kissing the pads of each finger. 

He sighed happily. “You know… I really think… I mean…” His stomach flipped with nerves and he bit his lip, holding back everything he needed to say.

She laughed gently. “What?” She kissed his middle finger again. 

He took a deep breath. “I think I could really fall for you.” 

A soft smile turned her lips. “I’m pretty sure you already have.” 

His cheeks burned. His soul felt at ease. Dean laid his hand over her heart and felt the steady beat. 

“I’m pretty sure you’re right…”

Y/N felt each swipe of the scalpel, every drop of blood that leaked from the wounds. Locked and awake inside her immoble body, she tried to think of other things, to keep her mind away from the torture. She called up old dreams, sacred poems, and blissful moments with Dean. 

Whenever she drifted, Michael pulled her back. 

He kissed her again and again, breathing more Grace into her body to keep her alive. The deeper he cut, the harder his magic worked. The wounds lay open and he dipped his fingers or tongue inside, learning her flesh, tasting, feeling everything. 

His expression was crazed but childlike. He truly wished to understand everything about her, to figure out why she was so important, why God loved his pathetic creations more than his firstborn sons.

Most of all, he marveled over her heart. He listened closely to the flow of blood, trying different techniques to make it quicken or slow. If he stopped her breathing, her heart would race and then halt. If he cut an artery, it would slowly pump her life force out onto the crisp white sheets, staining the bedding in deep crimson. If he stimulated her sex, it would race and skip, meeting his touch. 

Twice, he’d killed her only to bring her back. He wanted to hear the absolute death of her heart and before kicking it back into motion. 

Y/N remembered every second, felt the pull of his Grace waking her back up. She had long ago given up on prayer, and sank into the pain, letting it consume her soul. She deserved to bleed. She couldn’t save Dean, couldn’t help him in any way. She deserved the torment. 

“Human skin is so… delicate,” Michael mused, running the razor edge down the length of her chest, splitting the flesh wide. “So… easily broken…” Again, he dragged the blade through her, deepening the gash until he saw a peek of white bone. “Like your hearts.”

Y/N screamed as intense pain shot through every bit of her. 

Michael pushed the bleeding meat aside and exposed her ribcage. 

She felt every touch and her vision faded. Consciousness was slipping away and she welcomed the darkness like an old friend. 

“No, no, Y/N,” he whispered, laying a hand on her cheek. “Stay with me.”  

Grace jolted her awake and she cursed him with everything she had. He heard her silent blasphemy and smiled. 

“Don’t you understand? You’re doing a good thing. You’re helping me.” 

Digging into her chest, Michael wrapped two fingers between the fourth rib on each side. 

“You’re teaching me.”

He pulled his hands apart and her sternum splintered. The cage tore open and Y/N felt the terrifying sensation of cool air on her lungs. 

“You’re teaching Dean that I will always win.” 

He ignored her screams and pressed his fingers to her exposed heart, observing the blood pumping from the source.

“No matter how he screams, how he… begs, claws, fights… I will always win.” 

On a whim, Michael shifted to sit between her legs. Watching her heart, he pulled his cock free and tapped her clit with the tip. 

Y/N struggled to break the spell, to move, to scream, but there was no escape. Her fate was sealed. 

“Interesting…” 

The muscle pumped faster. Michael narrowed his gaze on the aorta and slipped his stiff cock into her vagina. Blood moved quicker, the aorta swelled, the beats quickened. He grinned. 

“How exquisite.”

The faster he fucked her, the harder her heart beat. He watched like a scientist, tracking individual blood cells as they moved through her system, rushing through the expansive highway of veins to visit every part of her body. When they returned to the heart, he chose another part to focus on until he had learned all that he could.

There wasn’t much left of her mind, only a fading memory of her first kiss with Dean. That single, exhilarating instance when friends became more, and this vile moment was far, far away. 

Michael knelt between her thighs and straightened up, fully filling Dean’s impressive form. He looked deep into Y/N’s frozen face and felt a surge of pride and understanding. 

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Inside, Dean was fighting. He tore at his cell, screamed and cursed until his throat filled with blood and then started all over again.

Michael leaned close and kissed her lips, retrieving his Grace and setting her free. 

Her shrieks shook the room, but Michael had no pity for her. She was simply a thing to him now. A toy made of cells and air and blood. 

He snapped his fingers and her neck, finally giving her peace. 

Dean had seen every moment, felt his hands digging into her chest cavity, tasted her blood on his lips. 

Insane with grief and enraged beyond what he could truly feel, he let out a surge of strength that tickled Michael’s insides. 

“Calm down, Dean. It’s over.” 

You fucking monster!

“Now, now… Relax.”

I’m going to kill you. I’m going to rip you apart.

Michael wiped the blade clean on the ruined bedsheet and smiled. 

“Good luck.”  

[madschiavelique]

⟢﹒𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐡

⟢﹒ summary : your boyfriend’s too pretty for you to sit correctly at your friends’ party, thankfully his fingers are here to help you

⟢﹒ contents warnings : SMUT, afab reader, fingering, overstimulation, semi-public, praise, no use of y/n

⟢﹒ word count : 1,2k

⟢﹒ note : hehe this thought has been lingering in my silly brain for a bit, had exposed it to besties @sunflowersandsapphires and @gracethyomen and chose to write a lil something sooo here we are

"Frank...," a sigh laced with a moan left your lips, "please-"

Your sentence was interrupted as his fingers worked themselves into you to perfection, arching your back as your head rolled back on his shoulder.

Two - that's how many orgasms he'd managed to give you in record time with just the help of his fingers. While one hand was busy satisfying the warmth of your needy cunt, the other grasping the full flesh of your breast freed from your tank top pulled up over your chest, his lips were whispering the sweetest torments.

"I thought that's what you were craving," his lips stretched as his warm breath spread over the skin of your shoulder. "Ain't that what ya wanted sweetheart?" he questioned as he came to place a kiss behind your ear.

The overstimulation was beginning to permeate your whole body, everything tingled you, nearing the painful point. Your hips moved to lift you up so your body didn't feel like it was about to explode, but his hand let go of your nipple to hold you firmly in place by the hip.

Another complaint escaped your lips as your eyebrows tilted back begging for mercy. His nose pressed against your jaw, his low, warm sneer landing on the inflamed skin of your cheek.

"Couldn't even wait for us to be out of here, huh?" his hand moved your hips closer to his lap as a curve of his fingers inside you made you jolt.

Your thighs pressed together as if this gesture would stop Frank from continuing. Your teeth sank into the tender skin of your lip, trying in vain to hold back the sounds Frank was creating from your body.

You were at a party with friends, with enough guests that if you both slipped away no one would be looking for you. Good laughs, chatting about everything and nothing, and just what was shaping up to be an excellent evening.

But it was hard to stay put when your boyfriend was like this: his shirt sleeves rolled up, listening to other people's discussions with his arms folded, a grin on his face as he laughed at a friend's joke.

Every time he turned his back in your direction, you couldn't help watching him, noticing how the fabric of his shirt seemed to clench against his muscles. And the way his broad shoulders shrugged slightly as he answered questions from the guests.

And his fingers, curling around his beer, his digits brushing the mouth of the bottle as his lips placed a thirsty kiss on it.

No, you couldn't have waited, you couldn't have lasted for very long.

"Want me to stop?" he asked as his hand gripped your hip and slid down to your navel, pressing into the hollow.

Lightning flashed through your thighs, making them tremble as your whining became less muffled. He pressed against the spongy spot, making you see stars in a way that was as cruel as it was life-saving.

Your lower belly felt like a hot summer's day, and you struggled to hold on as one of your hands clutched the sheets of the bed you were sitting on and the other gripped Frank's thigh.

Your mind was all fuzzy, and yet wide awake: enough to tell you that you didn't want him to stop.

He was kissing the corner of your jaw, "My baby couldn't wait for me," he whispered, "M'gonna give her what she wants."

His hand moved up your belly, taking hold of one of your tits again and resuming the movements of his fingers within you in a slow, delicious rhythm.

But he stopped for a moment, tilting his head to one side and staring at the door facing you. Lost in the euphoria of your body's sensations and the sudden halt to his movements, you let out a moan, your lips forming in a small pout as you managed to breathe and realign your senses for that brief moment.

Gently, his lips brushed your lobe as he whispered "Gotta be real quiet for me little one, hm?"

It was when the shadow of your thought rose above the bright light of your pleasure for a moment that you realised: someone was close. The panic didn't even have time to grip your guts before Frank's fingers resumed their torment.

You leaned forward as you tried with all the composure you had left to be silent. But his hand on your breast climbed to your shoulder to pull you back against him until your back was against his chest.

"Seen Frank anywhere?"

Your eyes rested on the slit of light just below the door that contrasted with the half-light of the room, fearful of shadows on the other side.

But Frank's lips pulled you back to him as he kissed your neck, exhaling against your skin and letting the wetness of his kisses turn icy hot under his breath.

"Don't know," a second voice replied, "him and his girl haven't been down in a while."

His palm pressed against your clit and you took a jerky breath, Frank's hand immediately coming to rest over your mouth without ever stopping.

You felt yourself getting closer, felt the knot in your stomach tighten as the seconds ticked by, as Frank's fingers continued to build the ecstasy, as you felt yourself losing all control.

"Maybe they went to sleep, both seemed a bit tired."

Your heart pounded in your ears as the voices got closer. Tired wasn't really the term you would've used, pretending was more of the sort. It was important that it didn't look too obvious, that the way you were pulling Frank's hand towards the upstairs rooms didn't give the impression that you were in high school and taking your boyfriend back to your room away from the eyes of your parents.

You bit your cheek, trying to restrict the moans rising from your throat by any means possible, letting your body gently vibrate to his every move like a guitar string vibrating every time it was plucked and its music had to sound at all costs.

And you felt it rising to complete intensity, your back arching wildly but Frank's grip holding you in place as everything shattered. Waves of electricity were crashing in your body like the angriest waves an enraged sea could ever send. Your thighs were shaking so hard you thought that at any moment your body would burst into a thousand pieces of embers.

Your body jolted violently in silence as Frank continued his movements, slowing them down little by little as you were coming down from your high.

"Let them sleep, we'll see them in the morning."

When they were far away enough, Frank removed his hand from your mouth and simply let it slide until it gripped your jaw and turned you towards him softly.

You felt yourself floating, your eyes half-closed as your body slowly came down from its emotions. You still twitched a little as Frank smiled, clearly proud of the state he'd put you in. All dumb-fucked, just from his fingers : he could get drunk on that sight of you.

Then he came and kissed your temple gently, a low chuckle vibrating in his throat, "That's my girl."

[ihatedtoadmit]

The Windows To My Soul [6]

pairing: OT8 x fem! reader

genre: soulmates, fluff, crack

warnings: Please read the 'Summary' of this series, all are listed there!

word count: ~3.5k

summary: Everything comes crashing down, and somehow the explanation for it makes sense to your jumbled brain.

author's note: Since I had this written already and I'll get busy, I'm feeding you guys with a double update. Please don't forget to take your delulu pills, unlike me.

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All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

The next time my eyes opened, I was alone on the couch, the room plunged into darkness.

For a few seconds I just laid there, blinking at the dark ceiling, not knowing why I woke up so suddenly. I wasn’t particularly thirsty, my bladder wasn’t full and not even my leg was cramping viciously, as if it was out for my blood.

But then the pain registered in my brain.

It was that same, dull ache in my ribcage, just amplified twofold. It was a miserable constant throughout my whole chest, pulsing with every heartbeat, as if the two synced up and became one. Not only that, but it gradually started seeping into my left arm and neck, as if it was a slow working poison.

I sat up slowly, my back cracking along, something I had sadly grown used to after a few years. One of my hands raised up to my chest, just above where my erratic heart lied, massaging the area fruitlessly.

Why did I have such a useless, shitty body? It broke down every chance it got, ruining my little happiness in life constantly.

I sighed, carding a hand through my hair and swinging my feet over the edge of the couch, just sitting there, zoning out in the pitch black room. The pain was bad, maybe even worse if I was honest with myself for a second or two, but I could tolerate it if I really tried.

So tried, I did.

I quietly shuffled around the room after standing up, holding my arms out in front of myself as a safety precaution, knowing how clumsy I could get sometimes. I could hardly see anything, with the windows being completely covered and all. But thankfully, I somehow made my way to the front door without tripping over anything -a miracle in itself, mind you-. Now it was time to search for my bag and– ah, there it was. Fishing my phone out of it, I turned on the flashlight and used it to find my little sketchbook and pencil case I usually took with myself on my travels. They were similar to my headphones: something I couldn’t live with, their presence providing me with a blanket of safety.

Having successfully located and retrieved said items, I quietly sneaked back to the living room and sat down on the ground at the coffee table, knees popping and cracking as I bent them to be by my side.

I could use my phone's flashlight to doodle around no problem, so that was what I decided to go with. But only after ensuring my mask was on and my headphones were sitting over my ears snugly, then connecting the device to my phone via Bluetooth and disabling ambient awareness after I had retrieved it from the same lil coffee table. I needed to blast music into my ears, to not let any thought form or process in my mind, lest they consume me alive.

Lines formed on the paper as I was listening to Volcano by Han on repeat, soon turning into little skzoo figures goofing and fooling around. Some were tiny, held in a hand safely, while some were bigger, more backpack-sized. Scenarios that never happened were imagined on the paper, along with ones that were recorded and put up onto the internet. Sometimes, a ninth animal could be seen amongst them, as I was unable to stop myself from drawing my own character, even in the presence of the boys.

Time flew by without me noticing, my goal reached as I could shut the thought of misery and pain out of my head.

But then someone grabbed my shoulder, causing me to let out a small scream and throw my pen away into the 4th dimension.

I jerked my head to their direction instinctually, connecting eyes with Chan, someone who was rightfully looking surprised and maybe even scared. There was definitely a little scared in there. I quickly took my headphones off, the loud music only heard for a second before it automatically paused -pros of having smart headphones- and I immediately apologised to the startled male.

"Naur, naur, it's okay, sorry for startling ya. When did you wake up? It's still pretty early in the morning." "Oh, not too long ago." - I lied, not wanting to be a bother still. "I see. But still, you should go back to sleep if ya can."

I gently shook my head at his proposal, the ache in my body too great to ignore and enter the lands of dreams.

He hummed in response, yet his eyebrows furrowed slightly for just a second. I noticed them, even as he masked it with a light smile and changed the topic to what I had been doing, eyes already scanning over my pages filled to the brim with loose-lined sketches.

Realising I was literally drawing their stuff, skzoo, I quickly shut my notebook closed, embarrassed enough to consider digging myself a hole somewhere. I couldn't show it to them, no, never. Besides, they were mere sketches, nothing too spectacular.

Despite all those thoughts circling in my head, Chan whined and begged me to show him, having probably already seen it was related to his idol group. But I didn't budge, not even as he poked my sides and decided to tickle me in the earliest hours of the day.

Like, damn, he really fucking tickled my sides. The man showed no mercy, even though he knew what state I was in, having been the one who kept putting ice packs on it.

And I was just left there, wheezing and dying as silently as I could, not wanting to wake the others up in my losing battle for air.

But as luck would have it, they soon started waking up and decided to join us anyway. Well, him, really, as I was the victim of the two aussies now, left completely at their mercy.

Thankfully, the two soon stopped, probably due to my still very much injured arm and allowed me to catch my breath. And I did, desperately inhaling as much as I could as I laid there on my back, my breath hitching with every sharp pain that could be felt in my chest. It was as if a searing hot metal was pressed into my skin, the feeling moving in a strangely rule-abiding pattern. I shut my eyes closed, jaw tightly held together as I rolled over, not wanting to be seen grimacing, the feeling now slowly ebbing off and easing up a tad.

Soon the initial shock wore off and I could quickly sit up, my face not showing any signs of discomfort even as the hurting place now felt raw and throbbed relentlessly in sync with my racing heartbeat.

"Don't get me wrong, I would never pass on a good tickle session, but what was the occasion?" - Felix asked, laying partly on top of Chan, the two acting calm thankfully. "Oh yea, Eevee doesn't wanna show me her art. Even though I saw a Bbokari in there too." - Chan casually replied, having the gall to even pout, as if he didn't just release the little devil on me.

I stared at him incredulously, feeling wounded and betrayed.

Sure enough, Felix whipped his head over to my direction, eyes glinting with something I couldn't quite identify, yet it still caused a shiver to run down my spine. Without a second of a doubt I lunged at my sketchbook, holding it close to my chest and scrambling off of the floor before the man could take it from me.

He was very, very close to it though.

The sunshine incarnate pleaded with me, his voice turning whiny and higher pitched than usual, but it didn't work on me. I continued to run, run to my little bag and hide my little sketchbook in there, out of anyone’s desperate reach.

Somehow, by some miracle, I succeeded, zipping it back up right as Felix slammed into me.

Good thing I was already sitting, otherwise I would have fallen to the ground with full force. I would not have appreciated that.

"But Eeveeee, lemme seeee, pleaseeeee!!" "Naur." "Eeeveeeee, please please pleaseeee?" "F-felix-..." "Come on, pretty please with a cherry on top?"

I could only stare at him, at the famous idol, who had the body of a sculpture crafted by the gods themselves, just… whine and plead to see my shitty art.

"These…are only sketches, Felix. Really not something worthy to be begging for. Ask Hyunjin to draw you some next time."

His expression shifted, eyebrows pulled together and lips set into a slight frown.

"I want to see your art. Not Hyunjin's, Picasso's or anyone else's. Why would you say that?" "Because theirs is better. It's a simple fact."

He put his hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm's length, eyes fixated on me with a fierce fire burning inside.

"Don't say that, ever again. Jesus, you're just like Channie hyung."

His lips were slightly arched down and his nose was scrunched up, but I could only stare and etch the sight into my memory. He looked so genuinely offended at what I had said that I found myself at a loss for words, unable to argue.

Not getting any reaction, he pulled me up by my uninjured hand and led me back to the couch, where everyone else was already sitting, much to my surprise. Jisung's eyes lit up and he beckoned us over, wiggling his way into my lap somehow -only after putting my beloved headphones away, since they were in his stubborn way-. Felix was no better, practically attached to me with how he was hugging me and all.

I looked down at them; they were cheerfully chatting with the others as if this whole thing was completely normal, even though it felt like a fever dream, if anything. Not even the others were that phased by our position, at max you could see amusement dancing on their faces.

It was just so confusing to me, as I looked between the two and the others.

I had no choice but to silently accept it. I guess I had two cuddly cats now or something. Well, technically a quokka and a chicken, if I wanted to be extremely accurate.

"Right, Eevee, we're gonna order some food, eat and then get you checked by a doctor, ‘kay? Is there something you wanna eat in particular?" - Chan spoke up, breaking me out of my short daze. "Oh, uh, no thank you. I'm not hungry." "What, no, you have to eat something!" - Jisung's raised voice earned the attention of the others, heads turning to our direction. "Sungie is right, eat at least a lil bit." - Felix murmured into my ear. "But I'm fine, I usually don't eat breakfast." - I replied, earning some gasps and not so happy grunts.

Before I could even defend myself, Minho sent me the nastiest glare I had ever seen, making me shrink into myself and hide behind Felix and Jisung. Everyone started speaking in korean, while the two in my hold lectured me about the importances of eating breakfast. They were strict and didn't let me speak up, only when relaying my answers about allergies and food preferences to the others.

Yeah, no, these men literally just ordered me food and didn't let me even argue about it.

As Han was listing off all the japanese food he loved the most -mainly for breakfast- and how he wanted me to try them out too, that same, searing pain appeared in my chest. I clenched my jaw shut, teeth grinding together painfully as I tried my best to not show any discomfort on my face. I lowered my head slightly, hoping that Felix and Jisung would shield me from everyone's view.

It hurt.

The feeling radiated and seeped into my arm too, making me unable to pinpoint its source anymore. The limb felt numb, my fingers unable to feel the soft fabric of Jisung's shirt anymore. My breathing wanted to pick up, but I forced it to remain as unchanged as I could, hoping I would succeed.

My pulse was an entirely different beast though.

"Hey, are you okay?"

I looked down at the dark-haired boy in my hold; that now familiar, worried expression sitting on his face.

God damn it me, stop worrying them!

I put on a smile and nodded, hoping to convince him, even though they couldn’t see the expression from the mask that covered half of my face. I hoped to ease Felix’s nerves too with these actions, because he was looking at me the same way, causing the flower of worry to bloom in my chest.

"Your pulse says otherwise. And your hold on me."

Fuck. I didn't even realise I tightened my hold on his waist.

"I'm, uh, I just don't like doctors. I'm nervous about the visit."

It wasn't even a lie anyway, I really did dislike doctors, especially because I would most probably understand nothing from the conversation, since we were in Japan and it was harder to find an english-speaker person here than you would think.

My answer seemed to have placated them, because they settled back against me -the notion of gentle fingers drawing shapes on me not going unnoticed- and continued chatting. I joined in occasionally, whenever they directed a question at me specifically. But otherwise, I was back in my little shell, observing them and zoning out.

Because I was still not okay.

But soon enough, the food arrived and everyone bounded over to the dining table, loudly bickering and joking around. I was dragged there too -quite literally-, finding myself sitting between Minho and Seungmin. How, I had no clue. But their glares and menacing reputation must have had a say in it, if I had to guess.

The table was full of different types of foods, everyone able to find something that fit their taste easily. Before I could even think about what to choose, food started piling up on my plate, my own hands not even fully holding my utensil. Naturally, that meant it was the doing of the two men sitting next to me, Seungmin even explaining what was what innocently. I blinked at him and Minho, confusion most probably sitting on my face.

Nobody did anything about it though, as they just continued on as if nothing was wrong.

With a last, confused and tired blink I nodded back at Seungmin in thanks, picking up my chopsticks and messily eating -this sadly meant i had to pull my mask down to my chin, strengthening my racing pulse-. Messily, because my arm was slightly trembling and while I could use chopsticks, I wasn't a pro at it. And I was nervous as fuck. And also still not that hungry.

But somehow I managed to finish eating, without staining any of my clothes. Okay, well, the hoodie was still mine, something that kept slipping from my mind. The food was divine -i loved japanese food after all-, but I couldn't enjoy it well.

My neck, chest and left arm felt as if they were about to burst into flames and become ash, as if someone was prodding around with a sharp, ablaze rod and then pouring icy water on it afterwards, scarring the flesh permanently.

It felt stifling.

"Hey, you okay there Eevee?" - a soft voice asked from my right, my eyes finding a worried looking Seungmin there. "Oh, uhm, y-yeah, I'm just. Full, yeah, thank you for the food. It was really good. I'll, I'll be right back though."

I waited for a response after I rambled out my answer, gaining a slow nod.

Good enough.

I clumsily stood up, hitting my hip into the chair slightly in my haste, but it didn't matter.

I just needed to get away.

The moment the bathroom door was closed, I wrestled Hyunjin's sweater off and looked into the mirror.

There was a pattern on my chest and left arm, one even barely forming on the sides of my neck.

They were smaller and not connected, but the strange ink glistened on my skin with iridescent colours in swirls and lines, drawing out different, beautiful shapes. One was around my heart and breast, gentle feathers covering the skin and ribs resting beneath. The other was more sharp around the edges, yet the cherry blossoms softened up the picture just right on my bicep.

I–...

I had never gotten any tattoos in my entire life.

What the fuck was all this then?!

As I was about to rub at the mysterious ink, the pain flared up and made me dizzy, forcing me to grip the sink with all the strength I could muster up, lest I fell sideways into the bathtub.

Unfortunately, at that exact moment a knock could be heard, my lightheaded self barely registering the sound.

"Eevee, are you alright in there? You've been inside for an awful while…"

Shit, it was Felix.

I quickly gathered up the last wisps of my strength and went to the door, opening it up just enough for me to peek through. I still didn't have a shirt on after all.

"Y-yeah uh… about that. Can I have a weird question?" "Uhm, sure?" "What would you do if tattoos you had never before seen in your life randomly appeared on your skin?" "Huh?"

The man just looked confused and stunned amidst his worry, and rightfully so. I showed him my arm, extending it out through the gap. He gingerly held the injured limb in his tiny hands, running a few fingers over the newly appeared ink in fascination.

Before he could comment on it, I leaned against the nearby wall a bit too loudly, making him look up and let out a loud gasp.

"Eevee, are you in pain?! Hey, talk to me. Look at me, that's it. Where does it hurt?" - Felix asked as he forced himself into the room much to my dismay, taking my head into his hands and looking into my eyes. "My chest and arm…m-my…neck t-too" - it was all I could say without my voice fully breaking, the pain becoming worse and worse with every second. "Alright, okay, sit tight while I grab Chan hyung, okay? Don't go anywhere!"

And with that, he was out of my sight, his gentle warmth leaving as well. The air suddenly felt too thin, too warm and I had no choice but to slowly slide down the wall onto the ground, sitting there with increasingly hazier eyesight. Oh, and I still had my contact lenses in, that definitely didn't help with that situation at all.

A searing pain travelled through my neck, as if my carotid artery was about to burst into tiny pieces, as if its only goal was to leave me bleeding out on the cold tile floor.

It was as if no matter how much I breathed, no air entered my lungs.

Two figures then appeared in my vision, their sentences a bit muffled and far away sounding. But after a few seconds I could make out that it was Chan and Felix, their worry practically palpable in the scorching air.

"Eevee, can you stand? Eevee! Hey, don't fall asleep, stay with us. I'll… I'll carry you now, okay? Hold on tight!" - Chan said, carefully and hastily gathering me into his arms, Felix draping the red hoodie over my vulnerable form.

Chan's steps were short and quick, shouting out things I didn't understand. Felix was running next to him, talking to me, but only half of it was truly registering in my brain, and that was a generous estimation.

Chan's steps suddenly halted, making me look up at him. He was staring ahead, eyes wide and jaw tight. Following his gaze, I was met with an unknown man, formally clothed and dishevelled looking.

He was talking frantically, breath a bit short, as if he was in a hurry. I didn't understand any of it, of course, but I felt like none of the words were directed at me anyway.

Although when I heard someone mutter the word 'Soulmates…?', I looked at them, confused.

It was Chan once again, his eyes darting between me and everyone else.

The conversation kept going, but it was starting to turn into an argument between several people. The others had arrived as well, gathering around us. I didn't get what it was about, not until Felix uttered 'You're our soulmate?' as he looked at me.

Only then did my delirious eyes notice the others' stares, the gesturing at me, Chan's tightening grip on me.

It was so obvious looking back at it.

But…

"How? I'm..."

The last thing my brain registered were arms holding me tightly and panicked shouting surrounding me.

Next chapter

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