#to undo it. to shove it back in the bastard's face in time. to make his own destiny and say fuck yours

[talentforlying]

late-hellblazer (pre-milligan) constantine makes me go feral because like. you ever have an omniscient guy who may or may not be Thee judas iscariot tell you "what you have blighted you cannot heal. what you have broken will not mend" and then have to go on living your life after that? what do you do with that? the closest you'll ever get to confirmation of the message drilled into your skull since you were old enough to understand language, from a source whose purpose is to maintain the balance of good and evil in the world, that you are a curse and the only thing you can do well is harm? how do you live with that?

the answer is, he does what he's always done best: puts up the V and says "fuck you, that's bullshit." burns his life at both ends to make things right. heals the blight, even if only by taking it on himself. mends things, even though the effort costs him everything: his memories, his friends, his sister. fuck your curse. fuck your rules. that condemnation will live with him forever, but all he is ever going to do with it is fight it. fix it. mend it.

[khattikeri]

one of my favorite things about mdzs is that for how heavily its plot involves politics of classism and misogyny... even the characters most directly impacted by it can't and don't free themselves from it. literally the closest exception is mianmian.

meng yao being the "son of a whore" wasn't some sort of commie awakening for him that led him to wanting everyone to be socially equal. he played the political game, climbed the ladders, sucked up to and backstabbed and murdered people, including other prostitutes who actually had nothing to do with how he and his mother were treated at the brothel he grew up in.

he put in so much extra excessive effort for even a fraction of the same respect that members of gentry cultivation clans got. and he did deserve to be treated more humanely! but he feeds into the exact same system that created him, leading to his own undoing.

his efforts were for a fragile upward mobility that was never going to hold up. he never surpassed his origins nor did he empower others in similar stations, because the society he lives in is not one that would accept that.

the second he got caught and all those crimes exposed, he was scapegoated to hell and back, replacing wei wuxian as society's terrible one-sidedly evil boogeyman overnight.

speaking of not-quite male gentry, i think it's interesting that wei wuxian explicitly doesn't try to climb the ladders in BOTH lives, knowing full well that anything he does will be punished just for the sheer fact that he is wei wuxian.

wei wuxian is scolded for giving intelligent and correct answers in school. lan wangji does the same and is praised.

wei wuxian occasionally lounges around with fellow disciples and is punished. jiang cheng does the same and mostly escapes.

wei wuxian refuses to carry his sword around in public (after losing his golden core, which nobody knows) and is scorned as an arrogant upstart. nie huaisang has been doing the EXACT SAME THING for YEARS and nobody bats an eye.

unlike jin guangyao, wei wuxian knew subconsciously from the start that his acceptance was superficial and that he could be cast out any time. when he was 10 and recently taken in by the jiangs, he canonically would not eat or use "too much" food and water because he thought they'd find him a nuisance for "wasting their things" and kick him back out.

now away from just the classism, yu ziyuan is a proud and strong noblewoman in a society that belittles and derides women for everything they do. her strong cultivation doesn't matter. she's victim to the vicious rumors of her husband loving another woman who is strong like her but apparently had a more likeable personality.

it doesn't matter even if jiang fengmian didn't cheat or that wei wuxian is wei changze's son with cangse sanren; yu ziyuan can't bear with the humiliation of herself (and by extension her children) not being "good enough". she's ridiculed for "failing" in that one duty as a wife, mother, and woman.

she lashes out and takes out that anger on everyone present for years, giving her children lasting trauma and also being a key element in how the jiang family and yunmeng jiang sect are effectively wiped out at the hands of the wen clan.

madam jin doesn't even have a name outside of the fact that she's married to jin guangshan. i don't even remember reading anything that indicates if she's a strong or weak cultivator, or what, which in itself proves that to most people, it doesn't matter. she's "just" a woman.

of course she's angry at her husband's affairs and all the bastard children they bring in. but she also can't do anything about them, so she lashes out at the few people she can: servants. non-cultivators, probably. those very same bastard children.

shoutout to meng yao getting shoved down a flight of stairs at age fourteen, because if madam jin tried that move against her husband instead, it would make her lose even more face, which as a noblewoman she'd never do.

and that's not getting into how jiang yanli is consistently sidelined for being physically weak.

that's not getting into how mianmian was actually a good cultivator, but was mocked by everyone around her for trying to stand up for wei wuxian when everyone was turning on him. how everyone scoffed at luo qingyang's words as "just some lovesick woman" who "obviously wants to marry or bed him since he saved her".

luo qingyang is the only one of these characters who HASN'T died. she didn't play society's games like jin guangyao. she didn't dig her heels in confidence of her own abilities like wei wuxian.

she didn't bitterly lash out like yu ziyuan and madam jin. she didn't gently accept it like jiang yanli.

she just LEFT.

she married an ordinary merchant and cultivates separately from mainstream cultivation society, and therein found her own peace and happiness.

mxtx doesn't bother with particularly class conscious or feminist vocabulary to hand-hold readers into understanding these disparities, but that choice highlights them & the deeply entrenched politics of their society even more. i really love it.

[ragingbookdragon]

There’s not much to see in between the minute slits of the burlap sack thrown over her head, but she still strains to see anything and everything that she possibly can. The men holding onto her arms dig their fingers into her arm, a bruising grip that is in part her fault as continually digs her feet into the ground and struggles with something fierce. Ghost is behind her, can feel it, even if he hasn’t said a single word. She on the other hand hasn’t stopped spitting fire every chance she gets, venomous threats and cold warnings.

It’s only until she’s shoved down onto a seat, arms tied behind her back with her legs bound too that the hood is harshly yanked off and she shuts her eyes at the bright light above her, much like driving on the road at night and being blinded by powerful LEDs. As her vision clears, she sees the captors who’d managed to get the jump on her and in turn, capture Ghost as well, and he’s in the same position as she is, but there’s definitely more rope around him than there is her. She snarls at them when they come close, baring her teeth in a way that says, “touch me and lose a finger.”

“What do you want from us?” she gripes, voice devoid of any emotion but annoyance.

“Answers,” the leader asks. “You know where the resistance is hiding out.”

The second one crosses his arms over his chest. “Tell us where their headquarters are.”

She spits down at their feet. “Suck my dick.” A moment, a pause before a backhand sends her careening to the side, chair tipping slightly and she growls, turning back to face him with blood dripping down her split lip; she licks it, the wound stings but it burns in a way she likes. “Your dad hit me harder than that last night,” she cracks back, and the man grabs at her chin, hauling her upright until they’re nose to nose.

“I will make you scream in ways you’ve never imagined.”

“That’s what I told your mom before I—”

His other hand reaches for her combat vest, and she thrashes as he undoes it and yanks it open; he’s centimeters from the thin tank top she wears and only then does Ghost make a single noise, the scraping of a chair, fingers clenching white on the arm rest as he snarls, “Touch her and I’ll fucking smear the goddamn walls with you.”

It’s not a threat. It’s a fucking warning. One not to be ignored.

The man pauses, looks to the side, sees Ghost’s golden eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. His breathing isn’t labored. It’s calm. Deadly calm. And the man, taking in the sunken nose of Ghost’s full-face mask, the raised skeletal plates, decides perhaps this isn’t a fight he really wants neither then nor later.

He lets her go and she sinks back into her chair, but Ghost’s eyes don’t leave the man even as he slinks behind his commander. The ropes at his wrists strain under Ghost’s flexing forearms and she hums low in her throat.

“Easy,” she murmurs. “Not here.”

This time Ghost eyes both of the enemy captors, and he answers, a barely-contained, seething rage in his chest and out of his throat, “I’ll fucking kill any bastard that touches what’s mine.” He snarls beneath the mask, and she feels it deep in her chest, the sound reverberating through her. “I’ll fucking rip your guts out through your back. Touch her again. I dare you.”

This time, even the commander shifts nervously on his feet, and he clears his throat in an exaggerated fashion to ease whatever fear is ebbing in his stomach as he turns to the second and says, “We’ll come back with more questions.”

“Don’t keep us waiting long,” she retorts, watching them leave and as the door shuts and locks, she reaches out, brushing her fingers against Ghost’s knuckle and all at once, he relaxes his grip. “Easy, Simon,” she calms, and he lets out a single deep breath.

“I don’t like people touching you.”

“You can’t kill everyone who does,” she jokes, and he looks over at her, his eyes glinting in the light, a solid ring of gold around a deep pit of a void; her throat dries up at the beastly hunger in them, but no fear is in her heart, in fact, quite the opposite.

“I’m the only one allowed to fucking touch you.” He looks down at the silver necklace on her chest. “You’re mine. All. Fucking. Mine.”

She swallows thickly, the S dangling at the apex of her throat feeling like a branding, but it doesn’t hurt, she loves the burn, craves it, wants to drown in it—in him. “Yeah, Simon,” she breathes, heart pounding in her chest. “I’m all yours.”

[pygmi-cygni]

Snack

Poe dameron x reader, fluffy blurb, not edited

haha get it cause he's a snack lmao i'll see myself out thanks

You swatted a pair of wandering hands as you cranked on the engine, crescent wrench crammed between your teeth. Hoping a death glare would make up for your temporary muteness, you scowled at Poe. He pouted, prodding again at your sides.

"'M bithy," you mumbled around a mouthful of metal, "go 'way."

The poor X wing hacked up another billow of black smog, and you wedged yourself back into your tiny workspace. Defeated, Poe grumbled away, stomping across the grassland to his ship.

The two of you had been stranded for about an hour as you hastily attempted to fix the faulty engine in your X-wing. One of the mechs had skipped out on a full run-through before takeoff, and you were pissed. This wasn't a difficult assignment; just drills across the Castor Sea, but you'd done one barrel roll too many and your X-wing started to spiral.

Once the adrenaline was over, you were miserably clanking around under the hood, trying to assess the damage while suffering in the heat.

And defending advances from your adorable but incessant copilot.

Poe was a cutie, but he didn't realize that though the ship was gonna be fine, you weren't in a cuddly mood. He'd been touching and nuzzling the entire time you were working.

After the fifth strike you'd had enough.

"Poe, this wasn't an opportunity for a makeout session. My ship is having an asthma attack, and I need to finish this up so we can leave. We can hang out later, promise." You kissed his cheek as an attempt to placate him, before returning to your grimy task.

He tried to stick his hand back in your vest, and you lightly shoved him off.

"Dameron-"

"But I'm hungry," he protested, tugging at your sleeve. You threw the screwdriver on the ground and faced him. He was in puppy-dog mode now, cow eyes sparkling to their full capacity.

"What? The hell does that have to do with me? If you let me finish, we can go get you dinner, yeah?"

"No," he pouted. "I saw you shove a chocolate ration in your vest this morning."

You blinked. What...oh. "Seriously?"

Poe was playing with your tac vest straps. "Well, I dunno, it's hot and I'm tired 'n I wanted a snack, so-"

You groaned, rubbing your face in your hands. You tried to mask the grin twitching onto your face at his antics. Poe was always snacky, you were surprised he hadn't smuggled a few pieces into his ship for the ride.

Sighing, you made a show of undoing your gloves, tucking them into your belt, wiping the grease from your hands, taking as long as possible while Poe practically hopped with anticipation.

Suddenly, you collided with Poe's chest and your flight vest was gone. He was so hasty that it unzipped your flight suit in the process.

You yelped at the sudden exposure, looking at him with a mix of shock and betrayal. He paid your obvious embarrassment no mind, rifling through the pockets in search of the small square of foil.

"Give me my shirt back, I am literally half naked."

He raised his gaze to you, smirking. "Why would I want to do that?" He dramatically dragged his eyes over you, and your cheeks pinked.

"Just- grab your snack and gimme my vest, I'm almost done-"

Poe hummed thoughtfully, tossed the vest on the ground and made a move for you, nibbling and pecking along your jaw. His stubble was scratchy against your soft shoulders. You bit down a giggle at his feathery kisses, wriggling in his grasp.

"Oh, so it was a ruse then, you conniving little bastard-"

He laughed into your neck, warm breath ticklish under your ear. You took the distraction and stumbled backwards a few steps. Poe frowned, grabbing at your waist and pulling you back for another kiss.

"No, but the chocolate melted and you'll be an adequate replacement," he mumbled, lips roving over your grin.

"Adequate?"

He covered your lips warmly, hands curling around your hips. "Give me a minute, I haven't finished tasting. I'll have a better idea soon."

"Just kiss me, you idiot."

i thought it was cute idk lmk your thoughts xox love you!

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Who's In Danger Now? (Bad Samaritan One-Shot)

Cale Erendreich x GN!Reader

Fic summary: Cale forgot about your birthday and now he's the one in danger

Fic type: crack treated seriously

EVERYTHING: @winchxters

Bad Samaritan: @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @madspads @merrilark @jaziona92 @iguirisu @pansexual-imp @bunnypill (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You're going to take him apart the next time you see him, you just know it. It's your birthday, and he's forgotten- it's not like there's one a month or anything. Just the one day once a year and he forgot. You're not sure if you should be surprised, in all honesty.

He's always got his head shoved up his computer hard drive's ass, after all.

Anyway, more on to the point- when you woke up to find Cale already gone, you weren't overly surprised. Disappointed, sure, but not surprised. But as time went on through the day you became less and less sure that he'd done something nice for your day. You weren't needing anything elaborate or expensive or anything- you'd have been elated with just a message, to be quite frank.

But no. No muffin on the counter for breakfast, no card on the bedside table, no flowers delivered to work, no dinner for you when you got home.

To be honest, the dark and cold of the house once you stepped back inside after your very long day felt very off-putting. More so than usual.

And where was Cale? Of course, huddled in his office in the dark. The bastard didn't even leave a light on for you to traverse the stairs.

"Good evening, Cale," you said as you passed the door slightly ajar. It was deliberately worded that way, cold and distant. Petty, sure, but he deserved it. Sort of. You disregarded his half-hearted reply and made straight for the shared bedroom, shucking your jacket and plonking down on the stool at the foot of the bed to undo your shoelaces.

There was an almost imperceptible creak as the door opened back up again where you'd pushed it almost closed. You looked up, rubbing at your sore feet. Cale stood in the doorway, hallway light casting the front of him in shadows. He was menacing, leaning in the doorway shrouded in the dark like that.

"The fuck's your problem?" He asked with a sniff. He appeared uncaring, but the way his eyes shone with calculation told you otherwise. He was trying to figure you out. Was it him who had done something now, or someone else from work?

"Nothing," you replied, tone clipped. Cale rolled his eyes- something you did not miss despite the shadows playing across his face.

"Okay- don't fuckin' lie to me. You know how I feel about the lying."

You sighed and stood to face him, crossing your arms defensively.

"I have to wonder if you might have forgotten something important today, Cale," you said, giving him what he wanted. The truth. "Something that only comes around once a year?"

"It's not our anniversary," Cale answered with a sneer. "I'd fuckin' remember." Plus he had an alert, but he wasn't about to tell you that. "What else could it b-oh."

Your brow arched solemnly.

"Yeah. 'Oh' is correct," you frowned irritably. "Now, I know you're very scary and all but I need you to move out of my way so I can go downstairs and make myself some dinner because you didn't leave me any. Scoot, go on. Fuck off."

Cale hesitated for only a moment, gaze tightening before he sighed in resignation.

"Alright, don't get your fucking panties in a twist. Here, lay down. I'll make you some dinner and we can watch a movie, okay?"

He didn't seem that keen on the idea, but you knew by tomorrow or the day after that he'd be doing his best to get into your good books again.

"Okay," you relented, slumping a fraction. "But I'm choosing the movie."

You could hear Cale's grumbling all the way down the stairs.

[mythicalmisery]

Detective AU Pt. 2 : GhostxSoap

AO3

At those words, Ghost let out a sound that Soap could only compare to a growl. The taller man gripped the front of his shirt and practically dragged him through the precinct without a word. Soap wasn’t sure what he was doing until he was being roughly shoved into the empty interrogation room. Ghost dragged one of the metal chairs all the way to the wall, still silent as ever. He leaned back in the chair, appraising the man before him with a hard stare. 

“Strip” 

“What? H-here?” Soap stuttered out. All confidence from before was lost on him. 

“I said strip Johnny. I won’t tell you again.”

He stood there for a few seconds, taking in the demand before finally submitting. He started with his shirt, hands slightly shaking as he undid each button. He unlaced and slipped off his boots, removing the socks next. He straightened back up and was met with that same heated stare, pinning him in place. His heart was still racing and he could feel a sheen of anxious sweat coating the palms that were resting by his side. 

“Keep going, detective.”

Soap’s hands moved towards his waistband, hesitating on the buckle of his belt. He wasn’t typically self-conscious, he worked out every week and never had trouble when it came to dating. But there was something about the others suffocating gaze that had him slightly second-guessing his actions. Laying himself bare for the man who took up his thoughts more than he cared to admit. 

He shook his head and the anxiety away with it, finally undoing the metal clasp and pulling the leather away. Hooking his thumbs in the loops, he pulled the jeans down his hips and each leg, leaving him in nothing but his dark blue boxers. He went for the waistband of those as well, lest he lose his nerve, but was met with a grunt that had him looking up at his partner. 

Ghost simply shook his head at the other and reached behind his back to grab something before casually throwing it at Soap. He caught it midair before it could hit him in the face, looking down at the cold metal in his palms. He swallowed thickly. They were Ghost’s handcuffs. 

“Go ahead and hook yourself to the table for me.”

Soap just blinked at Ghost, making sure he hadn’t misheard the man. When he was met with a look that left no room for argument, he turned around and faced the metal table. He wasn’t exactly sure what the best method for this was. Believe it or not, this was his first time handcuffing himself to a table. He finally decided laying on his back would be the most comfortable. He climbed up on all fours before twisting himself into a seated position with his knees folded. He couldn’t look at Ghost during all this, the bastard was surely fucking pleased at himself having Soap embarrass himself like this. 

He laid down on the table, slightly flinching at the feel of cold metal on his bare skin. Lifting his arms, he closed one cuff around his left wrist and weaved the short chain through the metal loop on the table. He finally managed to close the other cuff around his right wrist, eyes straining from having to look straight up for so long. He nervously tugged on the cuffs. Yep. He was stuck. 

Testing his restraints left him momentarily oblivious to his surroundings. He flinched as he felt the hand barely brushing over his stomach. He whipped his head down to look at his partner who was now hovering over him. His eyes holding a flurry of emotions he couldn’t bring himself to name at the moment. Soap's breath hitched as Ghost leaned down to lay a gentle kiss on his bare skin, sending a jolt of electricity throughout him. This went on for too long, Ghost feeling and kissing all over Soap’s body, making sure to never give him attention in the one place he needed it most. 

Soap squirmed and rattled his cuffs at the other man's actions. “Come on, Ghost” he practically whined. 

With one last kiss right beneath the jawline, Ghost lifted his head with a smirk plastered on his face. Bastard.

“What is it darling, hmm?” He asked while brushing a thumb over Soap’s bottom lip. 

“I said I wanted you to fuck me Ghost, not kiss my body to bloody death,” Soap tried to sound assertive. Not really effective when one is tied to a table and practically naked. 

“And who said you got to make demands here? I’ll leave you tied up here all night if I want, painfully hard and on the edge until you can’t even think properly. Leave you here drooling and tied up for the morning crew to find. Maybe Captain Price would find you first. You’d probably like that wouldn’t you, Johnny?” Ghost casually stated as if talking about the weather. Meanwhile, Soap was beet red from the man's words, ashamed at not entirely hating the idea. 

“P-please I just need… more, I-I’ll be good I swear,” he pleaded. 

“Alright Johnny,” Ghost said, seemingly taking pity on the man below him. He left a trail of burning kisses down the man’s stomach. Eyes flicking up and taking in the other's overwhelmed expression. He heard the sharp intake of breath from above as he brushed his lips over Soap’s half-hard dick, kissing him through the boxers. He continued to kiss down the inside of the tan thighs while his hands found the waistband of Soap’s boxers. His partner raised his hips off the table as he pulled them down, discarding them with the other clothes splayed out on the floor. 

“Well, would you look at that, already wet for me detective?” Ghost teased as he looked at the pool of pre cum dripping onto Soap’s stomach.

Soap huffed out a sigh of frustration. “Please Gho-ach!” He choked on his words.

The other man suddenly licked a stripe from the base up to the tip of his dick. Slightly swirling his tongue before pushing his mouth all the way down, deep-throating Soap’s dick in one go. He could feel the man underneath subconsciously jerk his hips up, chasing more. He pulled away with a wet pop and that same smirk, continuing to idly pump the man's now fully erect dick with his hand. 

“Fuckin hell” Soap whispered to no one in particular. 

Ghost let out a gentle chuckle at the other's state. Soap’s skin was flushed with a pretty shade of pink from either embarrassment, arousal, or a mix of the two. Creeping all the way from his cheeks to his chest. They had barely even started and the man was already coming undone. He lifted his unoccupied hand and rested two fingers on Soap’s lips. Teary eyes met his, the ever-present fire still burning beneath. 

“Open your mouth.” 

Soap hesitated a second too long, Ghost squeezing his dick harshly as a warning. He jerked at the painful sensation, hissing through gritted teeth. His lips parted, eyeing Ghost warily. Ghost didn’t hesitate, unlike the man beneath him, slipping his index and middle fingers into Soap’s warm mouth. He pushed them further, twisting as he went, teasing the man’s gag reflex and earning himself a whine from below. Soap tried scooting back on the table in search of reprieve, his cuffs clanging against the metal once more. 

“I don’t have any lube on me, so I suggest you start sucking Johnny” he mused. Soap keened at his words and started moving his tongue around the intruding appendages, smothering them with his hot saliva. Ghost was entranced at the debauched action, absentmindedly sliding his fingers back and forth in lieu of his dick. He finally relented, satisfied with the amount of makeshift lube, pulling his fingers out of Soap’s mouth. A string of spit connecting them before finally breaking away and landing on the man's chin.

Soap’s eyes squeezed shut as Ghost reached down to his exposed entrance, circling slowly and smearing his own spit around. Ghost chuckled as he whined and jerked his hips back up again, a pitiful attempt at relief. He was still casually pumping the man's dick with his other hand, not too fast but not too slow. Just the right amount of aggravating. 

“You ready darling?” Ghost rasped out. Arousal evident in his voice.

Soap shook his head rapidly causing Ghost to smile at the eagerness. Alright, he teased the man long enough. Ghost’s own patience and ability to hold himself back was wearing thin as well. 

Ghost leaned down and kissed him on the mouth, licking inside the cavern as he plunged his finger down to the third knuckle in one quick motion. He swallowed Soap’s gasp at the sudden intrusion. He twisted his finger on the slow drag out, just brushing the man's prostate which earned him a loud moan. Fuck, was that the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. 

He wasted no time, pumping in and out of Soap while offsetting the rhythm of his strokes. Never allowing Soap a second of reprieve. He quickly added a second finger right next to the first, pressing in farther and stretching the tight entrance. Soap moaned shamelessly as he kept purposely brushing past the man’s prostate. Okay, maybe he wasn’t done teasing his helpless partner. 

“G-Ghost… I’m not gonna l-last much longer..” He panted out. 

“Tsk, don’t tell me you’re a quitter Johnny”

“P-please, I’m sorry..”

“Shh..shh.. make it to three for me like the good boy I know you are” Ghost whispered.

All Soap could do was nod as he closed his eyes and rested his head back down on the table. Breathing in deeply as he felt Ghost’s middle finger try and wedge its way inside of him. Ghost removed his hand from Soap’s dick, reaching up and cupping the man’s cheek. Both ignored the slick he was absentmindedly wiping across Soap’s face. 

“Relax for me love, you’re doing so well.” Soap just nodded at the man's words, basking in the praise. Ghost snickered as he felt Soap clench down on his fingers. “Oh, you like that huh?” He teased. With a few more pumps, Ghost deemed Soap ready for him. He honestly wasn’t sure how he managed to last this long himself. He slowly pulled his fingers out of Soap’s entrance, a sick squelching noise ringing throughout the room.

He worked his belt and pants free, pulling them down just far enough to release his own hard member. He made unflinching eye contact with his partner as he licked up his palm, coating it in saliva. The same hand that had just been in Soap’s very own ass. Soap just let out a low groan at the obscenity before him. He stroked himself a few times, soaking in the anticipation and pure desire painted on Soap’s face below him. 

Gripping the underside of Soap’s knees, he yanked the man down to the edge of the table. He lined himself up, rubbing his head across Soap’s entrance a few times before pressing in just enough to get caught on the rim. He groaned at the sensation of the man clamping down on him. He kept going, not giving Soap a second to get used to the stretch or catch his breath. He waited long enough. One long thrust later and he was fully seated in the man's ass, hands falling to grip the other's hips. Soap hissed at the unwavering grip, he’ll probably have bruises tomorrow. 

He ground his hips into the man's ass, pushing out another lewd moan. Soap managed to relax himself, releasing his death grip on the man's dick for a brief moment. Ghost took the opportunity without a second thought, pulling back almost entirely before ramming back into Soap harshly.  

“Oh fuck!” Soap cried out, pulling on his cuffs and arching his back off the table.

Ghost just kept going, leaning back down and kissing all over Soap’s chest and neck as he ruthlessly pounded into the man. He leaned down to nip at Soap’s ear, whispering nothing but filth. “Look at you, all it takes is another man's cock and you’re a fucking slut” he emphasized each of the last words with a hard thrust. Earning him nothing but broken moans and whimpers in return. He moved his hand up onto Soap’s throat, gripping it tightly but not enough to restrict airflow.

“Mine detective. You only get to whore yourself out to me. Do you got that Johnny?” He growled out, eyes burning into Soap’s. 

“Yours. I-I’m yours Simon…” he let out with a cry. Too far gone to realize what he even said.

Ghost’s thrusts stuttered at that. Simon. He had called him Simon. He had never heard his name on the other’s tongue before. He surged forward, crashing Soap’s lips onto his. Biting down hard on his bottom lip, the familiar metallic taste drowning his senses, drawing a muffled cry from the other at the pain. His hips picked back up their brutal pace from before, snapping harder and harder. Hitting his prostate each time now with maddening accuracy. The metal table underneath screeched against the cement floor with each urgent thrust. 

Soap suddenly clenched down on Ghost's length, crying out into his mouth. His hips jerked up into the air for the last time, searching for friction. Ghost slightly slowed as he registered what just occurred. Soap had cum. Untouched. 

Fuckin hell.

He pounded into the man, causing the other to whimper at the overstimulation. He leaned over resting his head on Soap’s chest as he chased his own climax. The pleasure built in his stomach, growing tighter at each flutter of Soap’s entrance before he finally snapped. It only took about three more thrusts before his hips were stuttering and he was falling over the edge. His vision almost blacked out as it hit him like a brick wall. He could barely catch his breath. His hips jerked slightly at each pulse, emptying himself deep inside. He groaned as shudders racked his body, now covered in a glistening sheen of sweat.

After briefly pulling himself back together, he slipped free from Soap and watched as his own cum leaked out of the limp man spread across the table. He tucked himself back into his own boxers and redid his belt.

“You still with me detective?”

“Yeah, Simon” he hummed out.

With one hand on the man’s cheek, he placed a barely there kiss in the middle of his forehead. “Alright Johnny, let's get you home and in bed love,” Ghost whispered to the practically unconscious man below him. Receiving only a tired grunt as a response. He smiled to himself as he unlocked the cuffs and rubbed the stiffness away. He placed a kiss on each of Soap’s wrists, right above the pulse points. Both men were in their own world, the aftermath of what had just occurred was a thought for tomorrow.

Both were unaware of the mortified gaze staring at them through the one-way mirror of the interrogation room. It truly was a shame that of all the days for Officer Kyle Garrick to leave his phone behind in the observation room, it had to be that one. 

[empyrean-thrones]

Chapter 2

“Bàsgiath War College is the oldest institution of higher learning in Navarre. Since its establishment, the college has survived countless wars and managed to preserve over 10 million books in their original text dating back to 200 years before the country’s unification in the Archives.” — History of Navarre by Colonel Lewis Markham

Ao3 Link

As we gather into the teardrop-shaped clearing, some third years go around passing hand towels and small umbrellas for us. Some of them have a scar or two running down the base of their necks or across their face, but none as visceral as the redhead’s. I take one with a nod of thanks and undo my braid to wipe it down as I head for a corner. I frown at a tiny knot stuck between my fingers, tugging at it a few times before stumbling into someone’s back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to–” My voice dies in my throat when the stranger whips around to glare at me. He’s taller than most of the cadets here with dark brown skin, a large nose, and thick black hair combed back to one side so it falls over his left shoulder to look like a puffy cloud. The brand mark in the shape of erratic swirls crawling down the base of his right ear tells me everything I need to know about who he is. Xaden Riorson, the son of Fenrir II, glares down at me with nothing but pure malice.

“Sorrengail,” he says in a low poisonous tone, narrowing his eyes. I swallow and hold his gaze. The last thing I want to do is cower before a traitor’s son. He should be dead or working in the most dangerous coal mines like the rest of his comrades. Instead he’s here, proudly wearing the Rider Quadrant’s black leather uniform as though doing so might prove his loyalty to the king. As if it could erase the fact that his father and grandfather had attempted to tear down the walls of Bàsgiath not even thirty years ago. “Watch where you’re going.” It’s a warning I’m more than happy to follow. I lift my hands in surrender and he shoves past me, despite the open area, to a girl with short pink hair, pointed ears, and a similar mark burned into the left side of her neck. I don’t linger around to eavesdrop. The tension in my body only eases when I spot Rhiannon a short while later and hand her my towel to dry off.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she comments, patting her hair down.

“A few of the Tyrrish revolters’ kids are here,” I explain, nodding to the two I just passed as I put my rucksack on the ground. “Can you believe it?” Rhiannon raises a brow at them as I continue, “Their parents tried to overthrow the king and now they’re… I don’t even know what they think they’re doing here.”

“Maybe they want to make up for their parents’ mistakes,” she suggested, leaning against the wall next to me. “I heard surviving members have to take an oath of loyalty and get branded if they want to be considered full citizens again.” I scoff, shaking my head. It’s ludicrous. There’s only a handful of Marked Ones in the clearing but just the sight makes my skin crawl. Who knows what they could be plotting behind our backs?

“None of them can ever atone for the sins they’ve committed. Those bastards killed my brother. They deserve more than just a painful death.” I fold my arms across my chest and let out a huff of air. “It’s fucking bullshit.” Rhiannon doesn’t speak for a minute. Her gaze is locked on the pink haired girl who’s frowning as she listens to something Xaden says. I open my mouth to tell her not to stir up trouble when a familiar voice calls my name from afar. I turn my head as a man with sandy brown hair weaves through the crowd to get to us. “Dain, over here!”

“Violet!” he exclaims once he’s close enough, pulling me into a tight embrace. I quickly notice that he’s gained some more muscle over the past few years. He’s grown a beard which looks… a bit odd on him, I won’t lie. I was kind of liking the stubble he’d had the last time we met. Well, whatever. It works for him, I guess. His warm calloused hands cups my face gently as he checks me over. “Mother Amari, what are you doing here?” Concern laces his voice. “I thought you were supposed to be with the scribes! You have to–”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” I chuckle, prying his hands from my cheeks. “Mom signed me up a few months ago and I passed all the requirements.” His brows knit together and I see his pupils start to narrow like a cat’s. It’s one of the many offputting quirks being bonded to a dragon brings. Yeah, no. Fuck that. I swiftly spin on my heels to face Rhiannon. “Uh, this is Rhiannon,” I say in a chipper tone. “We met before crossing the bridge.” He blinks, shifting his attention to her. Thankfully, his eyes are normal now. “Rhiannon, this is my friend Dain. He’s Colonel Aetos’ son.”

“Hi,” he says stiffly, shaking her hand. “Can we have a moment, please? We won’t be long.” He steers me away to a separate corner before she can utter a response and folds his arms. “What do you mean your mom ‘signed you up?’” he demands, brows creasing.

“I meant exactly what I said,” I sigh. Gods, I should’ve prepared for this. Dain can be such a mother hen sometimes. “She made me take the test and I passed. Simple as that.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“No, no. That can’t be right. The Board’s super strict with who gets in and who doesn’t. They’d never let someone like you into the Rider’s Quadrant, let alone Infantry.”

“Well, I’m here now!” I raise my arms to show him I’m perfectly fine. “See? No injuries so far. Nolon and Winnifred can patch me up if something happens–”

“But what if they can’t? What are you going to do if you’re stranded with only your dragon and no one else is there to heal your injuries?” I open my mouth to respond but he cuts me off. “You might survive on the mat during sparring lessons but you certainly won’t last a second in war. It’s hell out there, Vi.”

“I know–”

“No, you don’t! The records in the Archives only scratches the surface about the shit going on at the border. You couldn’t even spend a few days without constantly hurting yourself as a scribe. You’re going to get more than just bruises in here.”

“I’m not some porcelain doll,” I counter. “I already proved myself by crossing the bridge in the middle of a thunderstorm. Have you done that yet?” He doesn’t respond. He just stares at me. “Look, even if you did somehow smuggle me into the Scribe’s Quadrant, Mom would just drag me back.” I let out a frustrated huff of air and jab the toe of my boot into the mud. The rain starts to settle into a drizzle as the last few candidates walk in. They’re all bulky or built well enough to have a good chance in hand-to-hand combat. I almost envy them. Almost. “This place is supposed to make you strong, right?” Dain looks away from me. “Right?” I prompt.

“Sure,” he sighs, voice softening just a bit. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

“Okay, so I get stronger. Then you won’t have to hover over me like an obnoxious fly.”

“I am not –”

“Mom will be happy and I’ll finally be able to follow in Mira’s footsteps.”

“Is that what this is all about?” he asks, raising a brow. I blink, tilting my head slightly as I study him.

“Yeah, why?” He hesitates for a moment before exhaling through his nose.

“Nothing, I just… I thought you liked being a scribe, that’s all.” Oh . Of course I liked it. The Archives is probably my favorite place in the entire college. I love it there but… well, it was never really my passion. Dad always said it was my destiny to be a scribe. There were no ifs, no buts. Just do your book work and one day it’ll all pay off. So, I rose to the top of my class because… well, what else was I supposed to do? Flunk and disappoint my family?

“It was great there,” I tell Dain. “But, you know. I don’t want to be stuck in a dark cave wearing musky old robes for the rest of my life. Someone probably died in those things at least twice.” That gets an amused huff out of him. “You know I’ve always dreamed of flying. This is my life’s goal; I’m gonna achieve it no matter what.”

“The dragons,” he begins, “don’t tolerate weakness.” He nods towards the redhead I met earlier. “See her? That’s Amber Mavis. A scorpiontail did that to her during Threshing and she almost didn’t get a chance to bond because her wounds were so bad. If something like that happens to you…” His expression turns pained. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“I’ve been through more pain this week than she ever will. You, of all people, should know that by now.” I soften my voice just a little and squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I’ll be fine , trust me.” He finally relents, stepping back with a reluctant sigh. Amber approaches but stops a few feet away from us, arms clasped behind her back, and clears her throat to get our — well, Dain’s attention. She locks eyes with him for a moment until he gives her a small nod and heads off towards the dias where a few other riders gather on a slightly lower platform. “So what was that all about?” I ask.

“They’re going to start soon.”

“No, I mean that look Amber gave you.” I narrow my eyes in mock suspicion. “Are you two fucking?” His cheeks instantly flush and I gasp. “Oh my gods, really?”

“No!” he says instantly, abandoning his anxiety for once. I stand on my toes to get a better look at her. She moves in purposeful strides that scream elegance and authority; her uniform is mostly dry as she stands next to a woman with short black hair and a rapier strapped to her side. “She’s my superior officer. It would be too awkward between us and… well, she takes her job very seriously. Besides, it’s against the Codex anyway.” I roll my eyes. Typical Dain. Facial features aside, her legs are a work of art even from here. “You should go find your friend. We’ll meet up later.” He gives me a pat on my back before joining a group of cadets near the podium. I can’t help but crack a smile as I head over to Rhiannon who’s still by the wall, polishing her greatsword with a black cloth.

“We’re about to start,” I say, grabbing my bag. We follow the other cadets to the edge of four large squares painted on the grass in black. As the bell clangs overhead, Commandant Panchek strides towards the front of the dias above the platform where the four riders stand. His medals glimmer in the faint early rays as he moves.

“Good morning cadets,” he says in a voice loud enough for all to hear, “and welcome to Bàsgiath War College. Three hundred and one of you stand here today before us and, I must say, that is significantly better than last year’s. Many of you are returning to complete your three year course while others are just starting out on your journey to glory. As the Codex says, your true crucible begins at this very moment!” He grins, bearing his teeth, as he stares down at us with pale blue eyes. “The number of cadets the dragons found worthy of being riders were few last year, but I believe this new batch has what it takes to mount our most powerful assets.” His gaze flickers towards me for a split second before they land on someone else. “In this mighty fortress, you will learn and know what it truly takes to be a dragon rider. Your superiors, teachers, and even fellow peers are all here to guide and mold you into strong, resilient warriors. How well you learn from them is entirely up to you. Discipline falls to your units, and your wingleader is the last word. Should I need to get involved…” He pauses for dramatic effect then chuckles. “Well, let’s pray that day never happens. With that, I leave you to your wingleaders.” One of the four below him, a woman with short brown hair steps forward, summoning a large scroll in her hands as Panchek leaves.

“I am Nyra, the senior wingleader of the quadrant and head of First Wing. For the uninitiated, this Quadrant — Navarre’s aerial force — is divided into four battalions called Wings. These are split into three sections: Claw, Flame, and Tail.” She nods to the three giant squares in the first painted column before her as she continues in her posh Deaconshire accent, “Each section hosts three squadrons; each squad is led by a squad leader who in turn is led by the section leader. As Panchek stated before, the wingleader has the final say in critical matters and punishment regarding faulty squads. Section and Squad Leaders step forward.” I blink in surprise as Dain steps toward Fourth Wing’s Flame section and stops a good distance from a man wielding dual swords. Holy shit, he’s a squad leader? No way he climbed the ranks that fast. I look up to where Amber Mavis stands over him on the podium. Her face is as emotionless as a stone slab. Hell, she doesn’t even look at him. Guess he was right about her taking her job seriously. If that were me, I don’t know if I’d ever be able to take my eyes off my lover if they ended up in Dain’s position. “When we call your names, step forward,” Nyra instructs.

She starts with Claw Section then down to Tail. The squads are lined up into three neat rectangles before the squad leaders who then turn to face the section leader. This goes on until Amber finally steps forward. My eyes widen as a small spot in front of her warps and births a pitch black hole. She doesn’t even hesitate to shove her hand in and pulls out a scroll. “First Squad: Claw Section — Fourth Wing,” she reads aloud. The black hole vanishes as she goes down the list.

“Was that her signet’s blessing?” Rhiannon whispers next to me, raising a brow.

“No, that’s object storing. It’s one of the lesser magical abilities riders get after bonding with a dragon but I’ve never seen it look like that.” Mira’s usually just looks like a deep blue tear with shimmering stars, not… whatever this is. I guess it looks different for everyone.

“Second Squad: Flame Section — Fourth Wing,” Amber calls without a hint of emotion. “Xaden Riorson…” My heart tries to leap out of my throat as he stalks forward to stand in front of Dain. Fourth Wing. That means... Shit. I desperately pray to Zihnal to put me in Tail when Rhiannon is called alongside him. I do not want to be paired with him, not even in death. “Violet Sorrengail.” My gaze immediately snaps to Xaden who visibly stiffens. He looks like he’s trying really hard to set her on fire with his mind.

“I-I’m sorry?” I squeak out.

“Violet Sorrengail, you now belong to Second Squad, Flame Section of Fourth Wing.” Amber lowers the scroll to look at me. “Step forward.”

“Wh- I… he’s–”

“Step. Forward.” My legs obey and I soon find myself standing a few people behind the Tyrrish bastard, hands balled into fists at my sides. Zihnal hates me. There’s no other explanation. Why else would he curse me with this weak ass body and put me in the same squad as Xaden fucking Riorson? I try to scour through my brain for anything I’ve done in the past to warrant such a fate. Was it because I couldn’t remember that prayer on the Bridge? Was this my punishment for not having a perfect memory? I close my eyes, inhaling slowly through my nose. This is the price I have to pay. Fine. I’m not going to push my luck by insulting him. The last thing I need right now is even worse luck. When Amber finishes listing off Tail’s cadets, she drops her scroll into the black hole of hers as if it were nothing more than garbage.

The sound of flapping wings fills air and large shadows momentarily block out the sun. A weyr of eight dragons fly overhead then dip low, tilting their powerful wings as they curve over us like vultures circling a corpse. The wind is so powerful, it almost knocks me back. They hover momentarily before dropping onto the thick outer wall. There are three prickly looking dragons in varying shades of red with scales like a pauldron running down the back of their neck, an upward pointing snout and curved bull horns. Two of them — one navy blue, the other red-orange — have smoother scales and long horns. Judging by the two small horns sprouting from above their eyes, they look like blue-tongued daggertails. The other three are brown and green with the same frills Teine has. My heartbeat quickens as the blue daggertail lowers its head to glare at me with its piercing golden eyes. I focus instead on my new wingleader, feeling my palms start to sweat.

“Congratulations,” she states, “you’re all officially cadets. Look at your squad mates, look at your wing. These are the people you will entrust with your life. These are the ones who will save you from danger should you need it. They are your beating heart and they are the blood coursing through every intricate part of your inner body. You must never fail them, never betray them, under any circumstances.” She gives Xaden a meaningful look that forces him to lower his head slightly in submission. “Navarre is the last bastion of sanctuary in this forsaken world and we are the wall that protects its citizens — not infantry, not the nobles, not the guards patrolling the streets. We are the defenders of the breach, the shelter from the oncoming storm. In this quadrant we are one mind, one body. I expect cooperation and perfect coordination between all squad members by the time you leave these doors as fully graduated riders. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am!” we say in unison.

Nyra steps in to say, “First years, after you eat, you’ll be taken to your dorms to change and report to class. I look forward to seeing your full potential.” The dragons exhale hot blasts of steam from their noses at us before flying off towards the Vale where their dens are. “You’re dismissed.” Gradually, we all flock to the rotunda’s doors that lead to the main hall and dining area. The scent of bacon wafts through the open mahogany doors, causing my stomach to growl.

“I can’t believe we’re paired with Riorson,” I grumble. “It’s like the gods hate me.” I clench my jaw as I watch him weave through the crowd to get ahead. They give him a wide berth as if he’s a leviathan and they’re all minnows. If he wants to atone for his father’s sins, he can do it by bleeding out on the floor.

“I’m pretty sure they’re just trying to test you,” Rhiannon says, shifting her sword from one shoulder to the next. “Gods like to do that all the time. He’ll probably try to make your life hell but he can’t exactly kill you.” No, but we’ll be forced to work together and that’s close enough in my books. The interior of the rotunda is shaped like an oval with five evenly spaced marble pillars carved out to resemble the dragon breeds of Navarre supporting the three stories overhead. Light pools through the stained glass ceiling and the tiled floors are almost as reflective as a mirror. To the left are two massive arched doors leading to the academic wing, echoed by the same on the right, which leads to the dorms. Up ahead between the stairs that climb to the study lounge, lies our destination — two wooden doors that open up to the largest dining hall I’ve ever seen.

 We take a seat close to the edge of one of the long rows of polished tables stationed in the middle of the room. To our left towards the wall sits an extravagant looking table with embroidered purple tablecloth and cushioned armchairs — even the way the napkins are folded on their plates give off an air of luxury. The wingleaders take their seats at the center while section leaders sit at the edge, observing us with curious analytical eyes as they murmur to one another. I wonder if Mira’s ever sat up there. Mother certainly had.

“Hey, look who made it!” a chipper voice says, pulling my attention away from the elites. A boy with rich brown skin and soft brunette curls covering his brows slides in across from us, sporting a giant grin. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon, Ree.”

“So your plan failed, huh?” Amusement flickers in Rhiannon’s eyes as she sits next to me.

“Plan?” I echo, raising a brow at the two of them.

“Ridoc here tried to avoid getting drafted by pretending to have a fever.” That gets a scoff out of me. “Honestly, what were you thinking?”

“It’s nearly impossible to avoid the draft. You’d have to be severely wounded or clinically insane for that to work.”

“Oh, I should’ve tried that,” Ridoc murmured. “Do you think they’ll let me go if I hit my head hard enough?”

“Doubt it. Why do you want to get out of here so soon? It hasn’t even been a day yet.” I’ve seen a few people piss their pants about getting drafted but those were usually poor commoners. These two don’t look anywhere close to poor. Well, their clothes are pretty bland and seem a bit worn at the edges but they don’t seem too malnourished. Ridoc’s grin falters slightly as he shifts a bit in his seat.

“Ah, well, you know how it is.” He waves a hand dismissively as if I should know. A moment passes between us as I wait for someone to explain. “N-never mind, it’s not that important.” He chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck in an embarrassed manner.

“We live near the border,” Rhiannon explains simply. She unfolds the napkin wrapped around her utensils and places it over her lap.

“So you’ve seen gryphon riders before?” I ask. “I heard they’ve been getting more aggressive in their attacks over the past few years.” Most of the news I’ve gotten have been from the reports brought into the Archives; those bastards have tried crossing the border more than once and even raided a few villages close to the Esban mountains despite the Resson trading post being on their land.

“I guess? We’re not that close but we’ve heard a few stories here and there.”

“That should give you all the more reason to fight back though. If it were up to me, I’d burn every gryphon rider to a crisp.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Ridoc responds. “Those things spawn like hydra heads. Kill one and five more show up out of nowhere!”

“That’s why we have dragons. If it weren’t for them, we’d be bird food.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nyra get up from her chair. Several servers in gray outfits station themselves outside the doors to the kitchen next to food carts packed with trays.

“Before we begin, would one of our second years like to offer a prayer to the pantheon?” she asks. When no one responds, her dark eyes lock onto the pink haired girl. “Imogen! How brave of you to volunteer!” She smiles as the Marked One begrudgingly rises from her seat.

“Thank you, Mother Amari, for blessing us with another day and for breathing life into the souls of the animals we’ve bred for slaughter,” Imogen begins once we’ve bowed our heads. “Thank you, Zihnal, for blessing us with a bountiful crop season and fair weather; Dunne, we thank thee for guiding the hunt and providing us with bountiful meat. And lastly, Malek — you’ve given us the power to take the lives of our prey whilst sparing our own kind. Bless the less fortunate and guide our hearts. Amen.”

“Thank you so much, dear.” Imogen offers the wingleader a tight-lipped smile before settling down again with a disgusted look on her face. Nyra remains standing as the servers gradually make their way down the table rows to serve our breakfast. Ridoc is about to dig into his meal before a third year sitting next to us hisses at him to put his fork down. The servers finally retreat back to the kitchen — aside from the muffled clatter of pots and pans being washed and hung up to dry, the dining hall is uncomfortably silent. After a minute of waiting, Nyra clasps her hands together and says, “Begin.” Life floods back to the hall and the tension quickly dissipates like melting snow.

“So where are you from?” Ridoc asks, adjusting his slightly worn shawl before digging into his eggs.

“I was born in Akdus, but since my mom got stationed at the school, I’ve basically been living here my whole life,” I explain. “My dad wanted me to be a scribe so I trained in the quadrant over there for a bit.”

“Oh? What’s that like?” I shrug, tugging my knife from the napkin bundle.

“We had to learn at least three languages by the end of our apprenticeship and memorize every major battle since the unification of Navarre. Most of my time was spent reading so we couldn’t really go outside as much as my other siblings.” I spread some raspberry jam on my slice of toast and take a bite. The bread isn’t too dark or crunchy, like the ones served in the Scribe’s Quadrant. In fact, the food itself is much better here. There’s a savory sweetness to the baked beans, the juicy sausage has a hint of asurra pepper that lightly pricks my taste buds, and the coffee that comes with the meal isn’t as bitter as the ones I’m used to. “You know, the food in the Scribe’s Quadrant is mostly tasteless,” I comment before stuffing a spoonful of pudding into my mouth. “We’re told that flavorless meals are what enhances our minds and give our brains more space to retain information.”

“That’s insane! No wonder they look so pale and miserable all the time. You guys have got to eat better.” I laugh a little.

“Which dragon do you think you’ll bond with?” Rhiannon asks, leaning forward a bit. “I’m hoping to get something big like a clubtail.”

“Well, I want a daggertail. That blue one looked so badass.” I hum in agreement and take another sip of my coffee as I listen to them debate over which breeds are better. Ospon clubtails are pretty well known for their strength and ability to endure even the most deadly attacks but they’re also the slowest fliers. In my opinion, they’re not that impressive — they don’t have the kind of ferocity needed to win this war. The blue-tongued daggertail on the other hand? Those things are born to kill. Whoever bonds one is definitely worthy of joining the wingleader table.

I’m not sure which breed I’d want to bond with. Father always said it wasn’t up to us to choose; the dragons have their own way of determining a human’s worth. He considered the presentation ceremony and Threshing as their way of “sorting the wheat from the chaff.” It’s better not to put too much effort into hoping you get the one you want. There’s always a chance you get one that has an insufferable personality. Everything from getting a dragon to earning a signet blessing relies on pure luck. And if the odds aren’t in your favor then you might as well be scorned by the gods. Given the way my day’s starting, I only pray that I get something that isn’t a clubtail.

[bbunisre]

14: I NEVER LIKED HIM ANYWAY (0.7k)

There’s a knock on your car window. At first, you don’t acknowledge it, placing your phone against your chest, staring distantly. To say dating your ex was distressing was not the most understating way to describe it. It was more like grief, having replaced the normalcy you once had in life. Now seeing the very person who tilted your world in real life after so many months of undoing what he did to you, who could blame you for shrinking back into the box you were once in?

When the knocks become more rapid, you turn to your passenger seat to see Megumi knocking at your window.

Sighing, you unlock the car, letting the boy slip in from the cold weather outside.

“Is Choso gone?”

“Huh…? I don’t know…I left but he texted me. He saw me.”

Silence falls in the car, heavier than you could ever expect between Megumi and you. Heavier than when you confronted him about the accidental confession. Heavier than the night when he accidentally confessed to you.

Megumi doesn’t break the silence by asking something stupid like, “Are you okay?”, instead, he opts for a different route, “You’re overcomplicating it.”

It’s like your breath has been taken away from your mouth, shoved away and never to return again. Life is gone when it comes to Choso. It makes you angry that Megumi could say that to your face like that. You’re about to say he’s wrong when he interrupts you, “Y/N, he’s always going to be here. There was no point of feeling better when you’re just going to revert back to how you were before when you see him again.”

“I’m not…”

He gives me a look that says, ‘Really?’

He’s right. More than ever, Megumi is right. What was the point of healing if you were just going to lose it all when you saw Choso again? You’re not going to let yourself sink into that pool of mess again.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

“I’m thinking if I should punch your head off your shoulders right now.”

Megumi has the audacity to roll his eyes, “You know I’m right. I’m not going to bullshit you because that’s not how it works for you. You like the truth, you like hearing what pushes you harder.”

He knows me so well, so fucking well. Since when?

“I’ve never heard you talk like this, Megumi.” you admit.

Megumi smiles a little, “That’s because I hate that bastard and what he did to you. I never liked him from the start. He…”

He glares. 

You stare, wait for him to go on. 

You want to know—what’s going on in Megumi’s mind? While you were dating Choso, it felt like a part of your memory dedicated to Megumi disappeared. He was barely there and you’d never spend time together. He avoided you. Was it because of how you were acting?

“He made you into something you were not. He only liked you when you weren’t Y/N.” he explains, “You know, he even confronted me once and was like, ‘Stay away from her’.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, and he lied, saying that you didn’t like me. I thought it was true at the time but it turns out it was all fabricated for his own sake.”

In all the years you’ve known Megumi, he’s never bitched once and here he was, the biggest bitch of them all. You couldn’t help but grin widely at him, taking in the little crinkles on his face at the obvious frustration that takes over his face. It’s like he’s critiquing a recent nature documentary he watched, not the recounting the story of your tragic ex. 

“What?” he suddenly asks.

You realise then how much you’ve been staring at his face. Shaking your head, you sigh, “Go get Panda and Yuuji and tell them we’re gonna get ice-cream.”

He nods obediently and leaves the car. The door slams and you watch his retreating figure going into the distance. 

You could never be with Megumi. Just the thought of it alone makes you want to die.

So why were you suddenly wishing his confession was real?

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Slow Down-Chapter 3

here is the last chapter in my armand/louis/lestat fic. or read it below, but be aware it's mostly smut

Louis wakes up in a tangle of limbs.  All three of their legs are twined together and each other man has an arm draped around his middle.  It’s nice.  Of course, they’ll need a bigger bed when Daniel decides to join them eventually.  Their boy likes to sprawl.  

Louis has a plan for Daniel as well.  Every room in this penthouse has a camera–Armand had gotten them during one of his technology phases.  He’d become enamored of some aspect of modern technology for months, then move on to the next thing.  There’s footage of last night somewhere, and he intends to send it to Daniel.  Let him see what he’s missing.  

If Armand and Lestat agree to it, of course.  

Louis moves to sit up, and both arms tighten around him.  Possessive bastards.  Even in their sleep they try to keep him near.  He’s used to Armand clinging to him at night by now, and years sharing a coffin with Lestat didn’t really leave them much wiggle room.  

He’s glad they're both here.  They each give him such different things.  Lestat is all fire and passion, highs and lows.  Armand is his safe place to land, his shelter from the storm.  He needs them both.  And he intends to have them.

Louis carefully wiggles free of the arms holding him and straddles Lestat.  Lestat wakes at once, hands instinctively coming to rest on Louis' hips.  His thumbs stroke over Louis’ hip bones, under the waistband of his pajamas.  “You look pleased.”

“I am,” Louis says, and dips down to kiss Lestat briefly.  Lestat tries to kiss him longer, but Louis pulls back.  “Know what would really please me?”

“What?”

“If you could fuck me right now.”  Louis knows Lestat loves it when he talks like this.

Lestat pulls him down into an utterly filthy kiss.  When they break apart, he glances over at Armand, still sleeping.  “What about him?”

“He likes to watch.”

It’s perfect really.  Armand likes to watch; Lestat likes to be watched, the attention whore that he is.  They balance.  

Louis sinks down further onto Lestat’s lap and grinds against him.  Lestat’s hands go to his top and start hurriedly undoing buttons.  He shoves it off Louis’ shoulders and starts kissing along his neck down to his shoulder.  His fangs find the tender place where neck joins shoulder and sink in.  Louis moans.

Armand’s eyes flutter open.  He drinks in the sight for a second.  “Would you like me to join you?”

“If you’d like.  I know you like to watch.”

Armand keeps looking at them, but makes no move to join.  Watching then, at least for now.  Louis reminds himself that he has to take things slow.  One step at a time.  Louis threads his fingers through Lestat’s hair and pants.  He’s missed this.  

Lestat withdraws from his neck and pulls at his pants.  Louis tugs them off and tosses them to the floor.  He grabs Lestat’s waistband and pulls his pants down just enough to free his cock.  He holds out a hand and Armand is already there placing the lube in it.  Lestat glances over at him for a minute and licks his lips.  

“Kiss him?”  He asks Armand.  Armand’s gaze swings up to him for a second and it’s smoldering.  Then he looks to Lestat and leans over and kisses him sinfully.  

Louis slicks up his hand and lathers the lube over Lestat’s cock.  He doesn’t bother preparing himself–he likes it to burn a little–he just sinks down onto Lestat’s cock.  It feels so different inside him than Armand’s.  Armand’s cock is longer, but Lestat’s is thicker.  Louis doesn’t exactly have a preference, both feel real good.  

One day, he wants to take both of them at once.  But that fantasy can stay secret for a bit longer.  

Lestat breaks away from Armand and swears.  His hands come up to cup Louis’ face and pull him down into a tender kiss.  Louis kisses him back and begins rocking his hips on top of him.  He pulls back and sits up straighter for a better angle.  Lestat cants his hips just so and Louis cries out as his prostate is brushed over.  He grinds in place, breaths coming out in gasps.

He reaches out a hand to Armand.  “Kiss me, Armand, I want-”

Armand’s mouth is on his in an instant, kissing him like he’s starving for it.  Louis feels drunk on pleasure.  “Hands.  Hands, I want your hands.”

Armand bites at his bottom lip and pulls back to slide behind him.  It means he has to straddle Lestat’s thighs and the sight elicits a visceral reaction from Lestat.  His pupils flare and his fangs come back out.  Louis imagines Armand sliding inside him from his position, of having both his loves inside him and filling him up.  It’d feel so full, he’d be stretched so wide.  God, it would burn.

“Is that what you want, Louis?”

Louis feels his face flush.  “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“But it’s what you want?”  Armand’s hand wraps around him and starts to pump him slowly.  The grip is too loose to offer any real satisfaction.  Louis knows Armand well enough to know he isn’t getting it the way he wants until he answers the question.

Or he could just ask Lestat to touch him.  That would get Armand’s attention.  But he doesn’t feel like being that cruel to Armand.  He’s been touchy since Lestat arrived and Louis doesn’t want to push him.  

“I don’t expect it or anything.  It’s just a fantasy.”  It’s hard to keep coherent thought while Lestat’s cock is hitting that perfect spot inside him.

Armand’s hand tightens around him and his other hand finds Louis’ jaw and turns his face to look him in the eye.  “You want it.  Tell me you want it.”

The hand on his cock speeds up, just as Lestat bites down above his heart.  Louis cries out and nearly comes on the spot.  Armand’s hand stills just before he can.  Louis has no doubts it was on purpose.  He’s not going to give him what he wants until he gets what he wants.  

“Yes, fuck, Armand.  I want it.”

Armand’s hand moves faster and twists over the head of his cock on every other stroke.  Lestat’s cock pounds against his prostate.  Armand sweeps down and sinks his teeth into Louis’ neck.  Louis cries out his name.  (This of course makes Lestat redouble his efforts since it wasn’t his name being cried out.)

Armand’s teeth in his neck.  Lestat’s in his chest.  Armand’s hand around him.  Lestat’s cock inside him.  It’s too much, too much.  Louis can’t bear it.  He cries out wordlessly and comes violently, his whole body racked with shudders.  

Both his men pull their fangs out at the same time.  Their eyes lock over Louis shoulder and Louis can feel the electricity in the air.  Lestat reaches out and grabs Armand by his shirt and pulls him in.  He smashes their mouths together in a heated kiss.

Louis lifts off of Lestat, who immediately grabs at him.  Louis bats his hands away.  He slips from between the two of them and to the other side of the bed.  “Finish each other off.”

The two break from kissing and look at Louis, then back at each other.  There’s a silent moment where Louis is sure they’re speaking mentally.  At least Armand is letting Lestat in enough for that.    The moment breaks and Armand closes the distance between them and kisses Lestat.  

“What would you like me to do to him?”

Louis thinks about it.  Might as well give Armand another excuse.  “Use your mouth.”

He trusts that Armand won’t do it if he doesn’t want to.  But Louis thinks that he does.  

Armand shoves Lestat onto his back.  Before Lestat can speak, he sinks down and takes his cock into his mouth.  Lestat’s back arches and he swears in French.  Armand’s cheeks hollow and his head bobs.  Lestat’s hand buries in his hair and his nails scrape across his scalp.  

Armand moves over Lestat’s cock, sucking and bobbing.  His eyes lock with Lestat’s and Lestat swears.  Armand keeps it up, but he’s moving so slowly.  He’s taking him deep, but slow.  Lestat’s biting his lip and his thighs are stretched taut.  

“Merde!  Stop teasing, you devil.”

Armand pops off with an obscene sound.  He looks up at Lestat innocently.  “I thought you liked it slow.”

“You little-” Lestat’s words are cut off with a groan as Armand puts him back in his mouth.  

Armand goes from one to eleven, bobbing up and down on Lestat’s cock with fervor.  Lestat buries both hands in Armand’s hair and chokes out a sob.  Only a few minutes later he’s gasping and says “I’m going to-”

He doesn’t get to finish before Armand takes him down to the root.  Louis can see his throat swallow around Lestat’s cock. Lestat comes, crying out Armand’s name.  Louis imagines that Armand enjoys that.  

Armand pops off Lestat and lays his head on his thigh, hand flying over his cock.  Lestat tuts and shakes his head.  “Come here.”

Armand crawls up into his lap and Lestat wraps a hand around him.  He strokes him while murmuring something soft into Armand’s ear.  Louis can’t quite make out the words, but gets the gist that it’s about how pretty Armand looks when he comes.  It only takes a few minutes and Armand spills over Lestat’s hands with a sharp, wordless cry.  

Louis crawls over and kisses each of them softly.  Everything is going wonderfully.  Now he only needs to rope in Daniel.  

“I had an idea…”

[roanniom]

I have this thought that Eddie doesn’t really like when girls are all over him at shows. Like it just makes him uncomfortable to have people swarming him like they don’t even care about the music. And he doesn’t LIKE making you jealous. BUT when you come to his shows he loves how possessive you get after watching all the girls try to get his attention afterwards, loves when you hang all over him on the drive home, barely waiting til you get inside before your hands are down his pants and you’re biting his sweaty neck and remind him he’s yours. And he’s such a jerk about it too, acting all innocent like “what brought this on?” when he’s clearly getting what he wanted this whole time.

Eddie “What’s Got You All Worked Up” Munson is my absolute favorite. I love him so much but also how dare he play dumb.

I have my hand down your pants, sir, because after seeing other girls fawning all over you, I need to remind you who the goods belong to.

Easily

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only, semi public sex, hand job, dirty talk, mild jealousy/possessiveness but everyone is faithful and trusting ultimately

You’ve got him shoved up against a wall in an alley behind The Hideout, placing sloppy sucking kisses to his pulse point.

And the bastard is just grinning and moaning.

“Fuck, baby. Need me that bad after all that?”

“Shut the fuck up, Eddie. The whole block will hear you,” you chide him, even as your hands start undoing his belt. Eddie chuckles and gropes you through your clothes.

“Thought that’s what you wanted. Why else would you be trying to fuck me out in the open like this?”

You jut your chin out indignantly.

“I’m not trying to fuck you out in the open,” you contradict. Eddie’s brows knit together in confusion.

“But then what are you - fuck,” he cuts himself off when you wrap your hand around his cock, gathering the already leaking precum from the tip with your thumb.

“I’m gonna jerk you off in the open. Remind you who’s the one who gets you off so easily, pretty boy,” you say with a cheeky grin. Eddie’s face has flushed a brilliant red and his chest is already heaving though you’ve barely touched him.

“Jesus H Christ,” he moans, this time quieter and a lot less performative.

You love him like this. You love him at his loudest, too, of course. When he’s a motormouth dirty talking a mile a minute.

But you just can’t get enough of the other side that shows from time to time. Like right now as he watches you with big, wide, hazy eyes. His wet lip quivers, mouth parting on a gasp. His hips roll up into your grasp, thrusting up into your hand. The leaking, aching length of him throbbing as you tug.

When his hands grip hard at your arms and his eyelids start fluttering you up the ante.

“You gonna cum already, pretty boy?”

“F-fuck…yeah…I’m…fuck…”

You speed up your hand and he bites back a groan.

“Told ya. I’m the one who gets you off the easily, yeah?”

“Yeah, oh god—.” Before he can continue getting louder you surge forward and capture his mouth in a kiss. Well, it’s a one sided kiss, because I’m a second he’s thrown over the edge, cumming all over your hand and mashing his open mouth to yours with an aimless desperation that has you preening with pride.

He shudders in your arms and you wait till he takes a deep breath to pull back. Eddie leans back against the wall, sweaty and with his hair beautifully and obviously mussed up.

While he tucks himself back in his pants, you lift your hand to your mouth and lick his cum off your fingers like an ice cream cone.

“Oh fuuuck,” he intones, and you don’t miss the way his cock twitches in his hand before he shoves it back in his boxers, trying to will away the resurgence of lust. When you’ve licked your hand clean he grabs and you and try’s to steer you to his van. “Okay we’re leaving.”

“Woah woah woah, not so fast,” you say, digging your heels in to stop him. Eddie seems flustered.

“You don’t want to get home so I can return the favor?” he asks. He leans into your space with a grin. “I know you, and I know those panties have gotta be soaked by now, Princess.”

“Oh they are. I want to ride you till you can’t cum anymore, pretty boy,” you say with a smile that has Eddie swallowing audibly. He tries to tug you to the van again but you laugh and pull him back. “Buuut. First we’re gonna go back in there. You’re gonna buy me a drink, and you’re gonna let all those other girls see how beautifully disheveled you look.”

For good measure you run your fingers through his hair again, messing it up further. Eddie laughs at your audacity and leans in to give you a kiss, one almost too chaste for the current situation.

“Fine by me. What’re you drinking, m’lady?”

[johannestevans]

jack/izzy?

“Did my fucking best, Hands,” says Jack by way of greeting as Izzy comes into the room. It’s been six months since the whole fucking debacle, and Izzy had actually thought Jack was dead until he came ashore – Ed had said a cannonball had hit him, that he’d seen Jack go down. He’d said it off hand as though he didn’t care, but Izzy had seen his face close off after, seen him clench his jaw, press his lips tight together.

He'd walked away from Izzy then and hidden in his cabin, hidden himself further in the base of a fucking bottle.

He’s been doing better, the past few weeks. He’s drinking a little less, he’s out on deck a little more. Today he’d even been playing with the boys, and he’s in a good mood, is letting himself relax.

Stede Bonnet’s alive, it turns out – when Izzy had found out he’d freaked, had thought—

But Ed had been alright. He is alright. He’s spiteful, sure, wants to fucking get back at the bastard, but he isn’t trying to kill himself, or kill Izzy, or kill anybody else. He’s okay.

And Jack’s alive too.

Jack’s alive too.

“I did my fucking best,” says Jack again, and Izzy moves forward, doesn’t say anything, just grabs the front of his shirt and hauls it up, looks at his stomach – there’s new scarring there on his side, new burns, a dip in the flesh, but no open wounds. “It just skimmed me,” he says.

Izzy drags him down into a kiss, and fuck, but how long’s it been since he kissed someone? Before this whole business with fucking Bonnet, and he doesn’t even think the last man that kissed him was Ed—

Last time with Jack it was all business.

“Fuck, Hands,” says Jack, but he’s undoing Izzy’s waistcoat, his shirt, shoving them both off his shoulders and putting his hands on Izzy’s chest and squeezing his tits, grabbing at his nipples and making Izzy laugh into his mouth. “You horny for me, huh?”

“Don’t fucking ruin it, Rackham,” rasps Izzy.

“I missed that voice of yours,” murmurs Jack, voice low and almost tender, sweet like treacle, and Izzy rolls his eyes, but his lips are tugged into a smile even though he tries to stop them. “You miss me?”

“No,” says Izzy. “No, I didn’t miss you, Jack. I just want to touch you all night, have you touch me back. If you stop touching me I might just fucking scream. But no, I didn’t miss you.”

Jack’s eyes have a watery quality to them, like a greyhound’s, as he looks down at Izzy, his mouth frozen in a distant smile.

“Huh,” he says. “You’re real sweet today, huh?”

“You’re not touching me,” says Izzy, and Jack’s hands go back to his tits.

Izzy laughs, and his eyes burn, but he doesn’t let the tears fall.

[fandomwritingbit]

Thinking about William Afton rn (cos when don't I) and I can't explain how much I'd love to force the bastard to give up control for once.

not a proper fic, legit just a sex scene. punctuation and structure is shit

nsfw below line. smut, teasing, swearing, all that. Little comment about William "proving" he's a man.

Just like you lead him on, teasing him all day, long looks, whispering dirty shit, the works. And when he finally gets you alone you sit him in his chair - him under the impression he's gonna fuck the shit out of you like usual. But no. You distract him by kissing him or something and when he's not expecting it, cuff both his hands to the chair arms, catching him off guard.

He'd scoff at first, thinking you're joking maybe rive at them in frustration. But eventually he loses his temper big and he's telling you to pack it in, or else you're in for something bad. So you straddle him, hands pushing him back into the chair and tell him straight "stop being so petulant, or I’ll just walk out and leave you." At this point he's fuming but you're arse pressing against his cock is enough to keep him quiet - for now.

Your hands start taking his cock out, undoing his trousers and all that, kissing his neck but not rough like he would. More teasing, deliberately slow with the intention of winding him up. Till he's grunting with frustration, calling you names. You're not gonna give in though, you're bored of his "hard man hard fuck" front he puts on all the time and you can tell he's desperate for it, precum oozing out if his head.

And so, you begin riding him, hands on his shoulders as you taking him tantalisingly slow, grinding your hips deep against his cock. And he's unhinged, snarling in your ear like a caged animal, swearing at you, saying the most vile things he can think of; you can tell he keeps trying to grab you, the clattering of the cuffs giving him away.

"You don't have to keep proving you're a man, William." You say patronisingly. "I know more than anyone that you are." The words are close against the skin of his neck as you roll your hips into an orgasm, hands bunching up in his shirt as you ride it out shakily on his big cock.

The fluttering tight grip of your climax making him groan into your ear. And he's cumming himself, buried deep inside you, letting you do all the work, teeth bared against your flesh.

When you're recovered, you stand up from him, giggling at the anger on his face.

"See, giving up your power isn't that bad, is it?" He smirks at you, but it’s not one of amusement, it’s mean. "I'll let you go now, you can thank me later." You say, going for his restraints.

But he just laughs, some hidden look on his face. And you watch stunned as he shoves his hands forward, a quick movement that just snaps the flimsy-arse cuffs.

"Please, love. You're lucky I liked what you were doing, otherwise you'd be in more shit than you are now."

[girlwithwolftatoo]

hey! can you please make a Doctor Harrow x reader, where reader misbehaves so he puts her on the rails if you know what I mean-

Of course I do, dear anon... of course I do...

Doctor Harrow + teaching reader some manners:

*Your behavior from the last days has been the worst. Guards and nurses had complaint about you being rude, skipping the rules and even involving into fights with them and other patients. When this reaches Harrow's ears, he summons you for an emergency session.

*You keep acting like a brat, not paying attention on purpose and toying with the things on the doctor's desk. Arthur's patience is big, but you can notice a hint of exasperation in his voice when he says "You're not listening, are you, (Y/N)?" You stare at him and stick your tongue out before minding your own business. The doctor sighs and takes off his glasses.

*At first you think he's joking when he asks you to remove your pants, but since you don't obey, Harrow leaves his seat and grabs you by an arm. "Hey! What the hell?" you shut before being pinned against the wall with a strenght you never thought possible from him. The doctor twitches your arm to your back to keep you in place as his other hand pulls your pants down. The most worrying thing of this is listening to his still calmed voice whispering "I asked you politely to do this by yourself and you refused... this is just the consequence of your misbehavior, (Y/N)"

*Once he's done, he almost drags you to his brand new couch for the therapy sessions, sits on it and maneuvers you so you end laying down on his lap. You can feel his hand traveling up and down your naked legs. "Discipline doesn't mean punishment" he speaks, gently pressing his hand to your butt "Don't take this personal, we are just doing some... corrective coersitive techniques"

*Before you can ask what's going on, the first slap hits your rear so hard you screech and give a small jump. Your first thought is spitting curses to him, but Harrow doesn't seem bothered by your words. And when the pain begins to fade away... there's another slap.

*Harrow said this wasn't a punishment, but the spanking hurts like hell, like he knows how, where and when to strike to bring you to the maximum level of discomfort. You struggle to escape and shut at him menaces and more dirty words, but his hand claws your cheeks, squeezing them so hard it's almost painful, and forces you to lean your neck to see you straight to the eye. "It seems you're in a rage crisis... you need to calm down, (Y/N), to release those negative feelings, I will help you with that".

*The next thing you know is his hand leaves your face but goes to your throat with a strong grip that makes you feel dizzy after some seconds. You open your mouth and gasp while his other hand strikes your butt, that's already pink for all the spanking. "We are going to practice some... quietness" Harrow says "Everytime you use your words to say something mean or hurtful, you'll get some... time out without the chance to speak"

*Harrow releases your throat, and while you cough and pant, he undoes his belt (you can feel his hand next to your side). The soft material of the belt caresses your thighs at the moves of Arthur's hand, and when he lifts it to keep with the spanking, you forget for a moment about his warning and shut a very loud "It hurts, you bastard-!" before he holds your throat once again.

*The next part of doctor Harrow's "treatment" consists in keep with the spakning using his belt while you apologize at every strike, following his instructions. "I'm sorry for -OUCH- fighting with my pals..." "Are you going to do that again?" "No, I won't" "You promise?" "I pro-AGH -promise!" "Repeat after me, (Y/N), I won't fight with my pals again" he commands you as he shoves two fingers in your mouth, playing with your tongue so when you speak it goes like a babbling. "Sorry, (Y/N), I couldn't hear you" and you receive a new hit on your poor and swollen ass.

*When Harrow feels satisfied by your "progress", he drops the belt and rubs your butt. "I know you feel hurt, let's soothe this together, are you agree?" His fingers run across the gap between your buttocks, looking for what can be found at the end of it. A fingertip presses softly on the fabric, right on your pussy entrance. "Am I wrong or you're a little aroused, (Y/N)?" Since you don't answer immediately, he gives a little slap right on your cunt "What did we just learn today?" "Sorry, doctor... Yes, I am"

*Harrow doesn't hesitate and reaches for your sensitive areas, making you questions to know the reason behind your physical reaction. "Were you spanked at childhood? Who did it? How was your relationship with that person? You know, some special apetites come from unconscious needs, goals we cannot fulfill in certain moments of our life... Tell me, (Y/N), what do you need now? Whom you want to please?"

*The fact Harrow does everything acting so calmed and professional makes you squirm like anything before. You willingly spread your legs to give him free access and you dig your nails on the couch while he fingers you, speaking reassuring words about how proud is he for your good behavior and how he'll reward you for every day you act as a "good girl" and do as you're told.

(Sorry if this is long but oh dear, had too much fun writing this)

[just-a-creep-babe]

Masky fucking you on your boyfriend's bed

Oh my gOD why is this so hot tho 🥵🥵🥵 I HAD to write smthg for this, it was just too good 🤤🤤

Requests are closed

Masterlist: x

If he walked in right now, he’d see you in bed with him

He’d see you in his own bed with another man

Shirt shoved up your tits, he’d see your pants and underwear down to your ankles with your thighs spread wide open 

He’d see said other man’s hand crammed between your legs, fingers knuckles-deep into your sopping wet cunt while you squirm and mewl and beg for more

If he walked in right now, you’d be mortified

But the promise of release, the temptation for more and the sheer taboo of the whole situation has your body turned against you

You need more

You don’t want him to stop

Your hips buck, back arching, and Masky snickers

It certainly isn’t helping your dilemma that he seems amused by the whole situation

He nuzzles into your hair, breathing you in, and you can feel his fucking self-satisfied smirk against your neck

“M-Masky—fuck!~”

You should scream at him, push him off and throw a fit

But he feels so good, his fingers reaching places you can’t reach yourself, all the while he hums and eyes you up like you’re his new favourite toy

You hate how much you love having his full attention on you

“What’s wrong, sunshine? Can’t get enough? You want more, hm?”

The bastard’s egging you on

And what’s worse is that you’ve completely given in to him

“Y-yes—please. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Feels so good!~”

You should keep your voice down

Jesus Christ, you should at least stop mewling so fucking loudly for everyone to hear

“Yeah, I fucking bet it feels good, doesn’t it?” he snickers

Teeth nip at your neck, leaving red marks that’ll no doubt turn into bruises beneath his cruel grin

And you’re reminded again that you really should push him off—but when your hands reach up to his chest, your fingers only end up clutching his shirt to pull him in even closer

“Beg for my cock, little slut. I know you fucking want it”

You can’t want it—not here, not like this

But as you open your mouth to tell him to stop, all that comes out is a plea for him to take you now

His grin widens knowingly

“That’s my good little fuckdoll~” he coos, praising you, praising your infidelity

His hand leaves your cunt, leaving you aching for him to return, as he quickly undoes his belt

He pulls himself free, and you hate yourself for comparing them, but he’s so much bigger than your boyfriend

“What is it, doll? You’re staring; is he really that much smaller?~”

Your face heats up at his teasing tone, but the embarrassment isn’t enough to stop you from spreading your legs even wider

He hums appreciatively, dark eyes taking in the sight of your drenched sex

And then he’s leaning in, moving closer so that his lips are inches from your own as he slowly splits you open on the tip of his cock

You whine, sounding needy and all too eager for someone cheating on their partner in their own fucking bed nonetheless

One last push and he’s finally sheathed all the way inside you, tip brushing up against your cervix while his shaft pulses between your gummy walls

He groans, chest rumbling above you as he revels in your wet warmth squeezing around him

Your hands wrap around his neck, fingers digging into his skin, trying to get some kind of leverage as he starts rocking into you

“Mmh, you like this, don’t you? Like having another man’s cock pound into you like this?“

You swallow back your eager cries for the sake of whatever meagre principles you might have left—something about this being the worst breach of trust you could’ve possibly committed

But you’re so lost in the feeling of him, so sheerly overwhelmed and unabashedly enjoying it that you can hardly bring yourself to care anymore

You lay there and you take it, take every push of his thick member slamming into your cunt, take every inch of mind-numbing pleasure that he forces into you until you’re a pathetic moaning mess beneath him

“Look at you,” he groans, “so fucking tight around my cock. Bet your boyfriend’s never stretched you out like this before, hm? I bet he’s never fucked you half as well as this”

He pounds into you so hard that it steals the breath from your lungs, your vocal chords straining from the way he has you crying out for him

“Say it,” he orders, “say how fucking good my cock feels. Say how much you enjoy getting fucked on his bed like a cheap little whore~”

You’re powerless to stop yourself from complying, your voice shaky and breathless through the feeling of him screwing you open

“F-fuck!~ It feels so—feels s-so fucking good! Fuck, don’t stop!”

For a brief moment, he disconnects from you, and you’re shattered with disappointment

But then he flips you around, shoving your head down and your ass up, and pushes right back into you

His pace is faster and harder—all the more brutal as he fucks into your sopping wet cunt from behind 

Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open

He feels so fucking good

Your muscles seize up, fingers aimlessly clawing at the sheets

You can smell your boyfriend’s scent coming off of them as you’re pounded further into his mattress

If you were any more coherent, you’d be downright disgusted at yourself

But every second brings you closer to the release you so desperately need

And then Masky’s fisting at your hair, leveraging your body up so that you can’t keep muffling your moans into the sheets

“Say it,” he snarls, “say who owns you. Say whose dick makes you feel this fucking good. Say my fucking name”

So you do

You scream his name as you cum around him, cunt squeezing his length unbearably tightly

In the midst of your high, you can’t even bring yourself to care about your infidelity anymore

You savour the way his twitching member pumps you full of cum, savour the way he feels inside you—on top of you—fucking you like your boyfriend never could

You can’t even say that you regret it when he pulls out and his cum starts seeping out between your thighs

He gives one final smack to your ass, and you hear him chuckle behind you when your body jerks at the stinging pain

“Tell your boyfriend I say hi, next time you see him”

[bubbledumbbinch]

Some oral headcanons for Riddle, Idia and Epel (if you write smut for him). Both giving and receiving please 🔥🔥

Woohoo!!!! First ask EVER!!!! I hope u enjoy it aaaah, the reader in this scenario has no specific pronouns but fem body parts, since that’s what I’m most comfy writing with rn ;v; i will try to keep getting better the more i write!

A/N: This piece of writing is purely 18+ only. Minors do not interact.

Riddle Rosehearts x Reader

Giving

Riddle has never given oral, but he is fueled by his desire to please you!!

He offers it as some kind of reward for doing so well on an exam he helped you study for

Now, Riddle has certainly passed by the human anatomy images in textbooks and read about each person’s sexual body parts, learning about it in a very educational way. He usually blushed when he looked at the detailed images and quickly turns the pages.

Riddle would have researched different ways on how to please you before actually initiating anything; he wouldn’t want to completely blow it (pun intended) with you.

But learning about things in a book and actually practicing it would be completely different, he’ll come to find out!

He lets you sit on the edge of his bed while he kneels down in front of you, looking up at your face as he pulls your pants and underwear off

Riddle turns almost as red as his hair when he finally sees your leaking cunt, excited that he made you feel this way!

He watches your face intently as he listens to the noises you make, taking your body language into great consideration.

He focuses his energy on your clit and spends time building you up to your release

Riddle moans lightly as you cum, still licking you as you ride out your high

He wipes his mouth as he comes up to kiss you sweetly, teasingly asking you how it was, the smug bastard KNOWS he made you feel so good

Secretly plans on doing it more often because he wants to watch your face twist in pleasure because of him.

“Ah, my rose... did you enjoy that?” The redhead asked smugly, smirking at your form as he raises his head up. “I believe you really did, by the way you made such a mess on me...”

Receiving

Surprise surprise, Riddle ALSO has never received head!

Is a blushing mess when you offer it so casually during a heated makeout session!! But he can’t deny his beautiful rose, can he?

He remains seated on his chair as you knelt down on the floor, undoing his belt and pulling his bottoms down.

He’s extremely embarrassed because, he’s a bit average if not less than the average. Riddle’s worried you would judge him in that department, but when you stroke the precum leaking out of him with your finger he lets go of all of those doubts!

He can’t help but let out a groan and throw his head back when you give his cock a kitten lick from the base to the tip and then engulf him in your mouth.

Riddle tries to be quiet but you can hear his little gasps and you look up to see his eyes glazed in pleasure.

You also can’t help but let your hands explore his body,

He feels like he can’t control himself and grips your hair in his fingers, releasing in your mouth

If you swallow his cum, expect Riddle to freak out the first time, him completely flustered !! But also secretly turned on 😏

“Mmh,! S-so good...” Riddle’s panting as he finished. “E-eh?! You swallowed?! Why?!!” His face is burning by now. “My rose, let’s wash down that flavor with a sweet tart now, hm?”

Idia Shroud x Reader

Giving

It starts out with the two of you by yourselves in his room, sitting on the floor and playing games

Idia notices the way your thighs look thicker when you are sitting in a certain position, reminding him of a certain set of lewd doujinshi images he has masturbated to a few times

You catch Idia staring, fixated at your thighs and quickly catch on

You have to be the one to initiate anything since you know Idia is not the type to!

When you get up to lay down on his bed, Idia actually manages, somehow, to ask you to sit on his face! You’re surprised he would even initiate anything at all!

You’re embarrassed but seeing the way his eyes look so lustful when you lower your hips to meet his mouth, it spurs you on and gives you some confidence!

He lowkey wants you to suffocate him with your thighs..... he won’t tell you that in person though!

Idia hasn’t done this before, but he has watched a lot of hentai scenes of eating out, so he tries to mimic the same actions and is met with your high pitch moans!

When he feels you squeezing his head when you’re close to cumming he uses his hands to keep you in place, not letting you pull away

When he sees and hears you orgasm he swears he could just die a happy man right then and there!!

“A-ah.. this was so much better than my fantasies.... Y/N, you truly are my SSR character...” you heard Idia muttering into your thighs as he lays there, looking even more happy than you were at the moment! You had to wonder, “was this for my enjoyment or his?”

Receiving

Idia would definitely want you to give him head while he is gaming or coding 👀

Personally I see him as really horny but never brave enough to really initiate things verbally

Idia would have a pink flush on his face as he asks if you could suck him off

He makes sure that he was able to tell Ortho to go out and run some errands for the dorm which he knew would take a little while

He would probably be on his gaming chair, with you on your knees in front of him

Idia would bite his shirt or the sleeve of it while feeling you lick at his cock, sighing heavily once you start to pick up your speed

If he is gaming though, he turns off his mic and releases short gasps and sighs of pleasure, trying to prove he is great at what he’s doing by being distracted but still winning

He would definitely tell you when he was close to cumming, planning to pull out. Depending on if you decide to swallow or have him pull out, either scenario would be a win for him.

The idea of having his seed in your mouth or painting your pretty face only serves to turn him on more :)

By the way DEFINITELY don’t tease him by saying you’ll wear kitten ears the next time you blow him, he will be adding them to his online shopping cart within the next .5 seconds

“Oh- Oh Great Seven- That was close..!” Idia groans, accompanied by the sounds of his rapid movement on his controllers. Once he notices you swallow his cum, he instantly turns pink and you swore his hair flashes red for a moment! “I-..... you didn’t need to... do that..” he turns away from your gaze.

Epel Felmier x Reader

Giving

Epel definitely wants to prove he’s a man who can provide to his partner!!

He would not be forceful, but offer to treat you and take an initiative! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

Epel gives you plush pillows to lay down on his bed and makes sure to have his apple scented candles on to set the mood~

He secretly asked Rook for advice but you don’t need to know that LOL

Epel is definitely the type to be shy internally but tries to cover up that fact by trying to be dominant, but not too over the top. He wants to be respectful of your boundaries

Epel will try to use his fingers as well - using them to tease your nipples or play with your dripping hole~

Rook told him to do that LOL

When you look down you’re met with the lavender haired boy looking up into your eyes with a determined yet lustful gaze, cheeks tinged with pink ❤️

When he finally brings you close to your release, he works his pink tongue more aggressively as he watches you come undone~

What a hardworking farm boy! We love :)

“Well, how was that? Wasn’t that something a real man would do for his woman?” He asked you, a big grin on his face when you nod your head and smile at him.

Receiving

You totally catch Epel off guard when you ask to give him a blowjob!!

He became a blushing mess and was shy, at first.

However, you sorta made him a bit mad and told him his dick was cute, no matter how big it was, describing HOW it was cute in great detail!

Epel tried to conceal his feelings but once he felt you wrap your lips around the tip of his dick, he lost himself.

He grabbed your head a bit roughly, “I’ll show you how cute I can be...” as he fucked your face (with your consent!)

Hey, you know the repercussions of calling him cute, and how much he hates it!

If he notices you don’t like how rough he’s being, he will stop being rough once he notices your body language and if there are tears pricking your eyes he gets pretty worried!

However if you DO like it, Epel will definitely keep going at it, and fuck your face faster once he feels his release coming.

You look up at his face while he released inside your mouth and you see his eyes rolled back and mouth agape. Epel’s releasing moans that are throaty and similar to his “real” voice he hides from everyone.

He’s a blushing, panting mess once you’re through with him!

“Sh-shit!!” Epel grips your hair tightly as he shoves his cock to the back of your throat, simultaneously releasing his seed and showing his dominance. “You... were amazing...” he pants, too tired out to even care about how he sounded at the moment.

[the-iceni-bitch]

Can we pretty pretty please get a sneak peak of Nick with his lil minx (I'm not english sorry if I used this wrong) pretty pretty please?🥺 Also I consider myself a fairly innocent person but gun kink came to mind right away with him and look what you did to meeee 👀🥵

Minx is good! Hellcat would probably be more appropriate for Nick’s reader because, well, you’ll see.

Warnings for domestic violence, toxic relationships, public sex, m receiving oral, degradation, no minors!

“Dragostea… shit!” Nick’s grin at seeing you walk into his office fell quickly when you grabbed the bottle of bourbon and flung it at his head, diving out of the way just in time before it exploded against the wall right behind where he’d been sitting. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“You really think you can just ship me upstate without telling me for a whole weekend, bastard?” You grabbed the vodka next and heaved it at him, your breathing ragged as you watched him dodge that bottle to and try to make his way towards you with a look of absolute fury on his face. “I told you, I’m not leaving my bar with one of your dumbass goons so you can elbow into my business.”

“Jesus Christ, stop!” He managed to reach you and grabbed you by the wrist before you could smash the rum over his head, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenched as he yanked you into his chest while you snarled at him. “Do you know how fucking insane you are, woman? I was going with you, I thought a weekend away from the city would be good for us.”

“Oh really? You don’t have some little country whore you’re just wanting to sneak off and fool around with after you get me drunk and knock me out?” You ignored the chuckling that was coming from kitten, it was the first sound you’d heard from either her or Bobby who hadn’t moved an inch since you walked in.

“Doamne, cățea nebună, you’re the one who drinks all my fucking wine, and the only time you get knocked out is after I’ve beaten the shit out of that pussy, now… oh, printesa.” His jaw ticked when you slapped him with your free hand, his pupils dilated as far as you’d ever seen them when he turned his gaze back to you. “That was so fucking stupid, you trying to get me pissed off? You want me to punish you in front of them? You know I’ll do it, you all wet thinking about it?”

You spat in his face when you couldn’t wriggle out of his grip and he just chuckled dangerously at you, biting your cheek in warning before tossing you over his shoulder like it was nothing and starting to haul you back towards his desk while he ignored your shrieking.

“Fucking put me down, now!” You screamed when he started undoing his belt with his free hand, kicking your legs feebly as rage flooded your system while he just manhandled you how he wanted. “You don’t fucking own me, Nick! You can’t just drag me around like your pretty little toy except when you want to show me off to your stupid goons!”

“The fuck I can’t, that’s enough!” He swatted you hard on the meat of your ass with the belt when you tried to knee him in the ribs and grinned when you howled, letting his hand wander under your skirt to feel how wet you were and giving you a demeaning coo when he found you completely soaked. “I do own you, printesa. I own you, I own this tight little wet pussy you’ve been prancing around with uncovered all fucking day, I own your ass, I own your mouth, all of it. Now shut the fuck up, I’ve gotta work.”

He dropped you to the floor unceremoniously and slapped you when you tried to bite him, smashing his lips to yours and swallowing your hiss as he fastened your wrists at the small of your back with the belt. You kept growling uselessly at him when he shoved you to your knees, trying your best not to squirm and lick your lips when he unzipped his trousers and pulled his thick cock out to stroke it right in front of your face.

“I’m sick of you being such a crazy fucking cunt today, so I’m put that mouth of yours to better use and have it keep my cock warm for me, because that’s the only fucking thing it’s good for. And I feel any teeth I’m gonna tie you naked to this fucking desk and edge you with my gun in front of all those goons you love to insult until your crying for it, you understand me, you nasty little slut?” He grabbed you by your hair and breathed deeply when you nodded for him, thrusting his cock between your lips and down your throat and sighing once it was finally, blissfully silent. “That’s is, dragostea, such a fucking insane bitch until you get my cock in you, look how fast you turn into such a good little whore. Don’t make a fucking mess on my rug when you get stupid and try to hump everything. Tucker!” He frowned when Curtis walked into the room after he called over the intercom, stroking your hair before rolling his eyes when realization hit him. “Shit, did she get him?”

“Yeah, right in the jewels.” Curtis chuckled when he got a look at you on your knees in front of the boss, shaking his head when Nick popped you on the cheek when you let out a needy whine as you swallowed around him. “I gave him the rest of the day off.”

“Fine, give him tomorrow too, and send him some cigars.” Nick ran his hand over his face as he stared down at you, giving you an almost soft smile before driving his hips up and making you gag. “Get someone in here to clean this shit up.”

“You got it, want me to clear your schedule?” Curtis frowned at the broken glass and alcohol that was strewn all over the office.

“No, I can work just fine like this.” Your entire cunt throbbed when he gave you a wicked grin, the prospect of having to sit there with your skirt pulled up around your waist and your mouth full of Nick’s cock for his whole fucking organization to watch all afternoon making you feel a little light headed. “Sorry about the interruption, you two, were we talking about hitting that Colombian stash house?”

——————————————————————————

A/N: So, yeah, they’re fucking crazy! Good times! Will maybe give some Lloyd craziness if I get some nice screaming in my inbox for that, because him and his reader are also insane, but in a totally different way 😈 We’re gonna have so much fun!!