#well he may had set his hair on fire

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

HOLY SHOWER

Summary: After an exhausting day, you finally wanted to take a shower, but the water stopped running in your apartment, so you decided to go to your neighbor for help. But you got more than help.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, age gap, strong language, overstimulation, unprotected sex (piv), shower sex, more rounds

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You came home from work, exhausted and tired. Today was probably the worst day at work, the boss yelled at you, you almost got fired and you destroyed your clothes by spilling your coffee all over it, great. The only thing you wanted right now was a warm shower that would help you release all this negative chakras and relax.

On the way to the shower, you were already planning in your head how you're going to spend the rest of the evening, making popcorn and watching your favorite series while the vanilla-flavored candles were lit around. You'll only be wearing an oversized t-shirt and rabbit slippers that your moronic neighbor Wade Wilson bought you, after he almost set your flat on fire as part of his fight with some villian.

Wade is not a normal neighbor who occasionally throws parties and fucks with whores. He does this too, but he's really special. If you had to describe him in three words it would be a jerk, a narcissist and a wretch, but sometimes he's also nice, you have to admit that.

After you finally get out of your coffee-stained clothes, you threw them in the washing machine and went directly to the bathroom, naked. Opening the shower door, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Now, only well-being and relaxation begin, you may even practice yoga and meditate if you'll be sufficiently relaxed and full of energy. Just the thought encouraged you further and when you closed the shower door behind you, nothing and no one could stop you.

You turned on the hot water switch and took the citrus scented shower gel in your hand, you were about to squirt some on your palm when you realized the water didn't start running.

,,That's…weird” you said to yourself and reached for the cold water switch. Nothing. Not a drop came out and you were slowly starting to get furious inside. You reached for both switches at once and turned them to full power, but still nothing. You really held on, every nerve in your body was ticking not to explode but it happened anyway.

"Fuck!" you scream across the whole apartment and drop your head in your hands. This was something you had been looking forward to all day, you dreamed about it at work and the idea of ​​warm water running down your naked body was discouraging you from having a mental breakdown in the bathroom. The shower was your reason to get through the day and they're going to take it away from you like that? Fuck no.

You weren't going to just give up, the feeling of lukewarm water cleansing your body and your darkest thoughts, right now you need it more than anything in the world.

A light bulb went on in your head and you were out of the bathroom in no time. You quickly threw on an oversized white shirt, didn't even care that you’re not wearing anything under it, and went forward. Your face was focused on only one goal, Wade.

He's a devious bastard who's tried it on you countless times, but right now you're at the stage where you're even able to sleep with him just so you can indulge in that holy shower.

You knocked on the door right next to your apartment and waited for an answer. You started to be a little suspicious, because the apartment was truly gravely silent, but the creaking of the door interrupted your assumptions about what it might be. You took a deep breath and were ready to blurt out everything that had happened and convince Wade to let you take a shower at his place, but your words got stuck in your throat when Wade wasn't standing in the doorway.

Instead, there was standing a tall, old muscular man with a brown beard and sideburns, his hair was in the shape of beast ears and he had a stern expression on his face that immediately caught your attention. Wearing a white tank top that beautifully highlighted his body underneath and most importantly, showed off his shoulders which were way more massive than your thighs. You swallowed loudly in fear and blinked a few times to bring yourself back.

"Um hi! Is Wade here?"you asked and no matter how hard you tried, your voice was quiet and shaky, the guy definitely had to sense that you were so fucking nervous.

"Who's asking?" a deep grainy voice answered you with a question and leaned against the doorframe, as he crossed his hands on his chest, making his biceps pop out. He was really manipulating you with them, you had an incredible urge to stare at them and your brain was already automatically creating a million scenarios of what you wanted him to do to you with those hands. Luckily you were still somewhat conscious and didn't let your dirty toughts take over you.

"I am his neighbor...right next door" you pointed your head to your apartment, trying to keep your smile on your face. That man slowly looks at the direction you pointed, then looked back at you. "Wade's not home right now” his stern voice made you flinch every time you heard it, because it sounded like you just killed his parents and now you're going to pay hell for it.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded a few times. "Oh...okay well, when he comes back tell him I was there" you smiled again, hoping your smile would soften him up a bit, but you're too naive for even thinking this would work.

He was just looking at you, no response, not even a tiny movement of his face, nothing. You probably understood that you should finally get the fuck out of his face, and that was what you had planned. You turned on your tiptoes and walked back to your apartment, but he stopped you in your way there.

"Hey!" You immediately turned to face him.

"What do you want from him?" his biceps still hypnotizing you.

"My water stopped flowing and I really really need to take a shower" you put on a cute-innocent expression and your tone sounded so convincing that even a kidnapper, who was going to cut your throat, would let you take a shower.

He looked like he thought whether or not to let you in, even though he already knew his verdict long ago. "Come in" he nodded and disappeared in the apartment, thinking you were following him and you really did.

You were so grateful and happy that you would blow this man right here right now, not just because he was ridiculously handsome, but also as a thank you gift.

You closed the door behind you and the man made himself comfortable on the couch, a loud groan came out of him as he dropped himself there, making you feel that weird burning feeling in your lower stomach.

Although you knew Wade’s apartment layout even with your eyes closed, you still found it a bit inhospitable that man didn't even tell you where the bathroom is, but you didn't worry about it for too long. After all, you're not here to teach that grandpa good manners, you're only here for the shower.

You were almost headed to the bathroom, but something stopped you in your tracks. Thirst. Your apartment has no water and god knows how long it won't work and since it's quite late at night, all the shops here will be probably already closed.

You had to take your chance, that's why you backed into the kitchen and looked at him subtly. "Um, could I have a glass of water?" you asked politely. You only got an annoyed look and a stiff nod as response. You rolled your eyes and went to the kitchen.

You swallowed the water as if you had just been in the desert for few days, even that bastard noticed it too, but he didn't say anything.

"And um...you're Wade's partner?" "Fuck no" you wanted to start a conversation, get to know the stranger a bit, but this was probably not a good start. He looked disgusted, just thinking about it. "I'm his roomate, Logan" you finally got to know something about him and it wasn't just one thing, but even two. Wow, you're moving somewhere.

"Ah, nice to meet you" you said with a smile and poured yourself another glass of water which you drink like an animal. Logan just stared at you, scanning you and sensing that you were only wearing a light white fabric and literally nothing underneath it. Quite risky, he thought.

"And you're name?" he finally continued the conversation and you couldn't help but smile even more. Maybe you softened the grump a bit after all.

,,Y/N...” you fizz looking at Logan who just nodded and looked away. You felt it was time to finally indulge in what you were here for. Without another word you therefore went to bathroom, ripped off your shirt in one graceful motion and stomped into the shower, but you couldn't ignore the smell that clearly screamed Wade was touching himself here. Whatever.

Trying to ignore the smell, you reached for the hot water switch. The water finally touched your naked skin and you threw your head back, nearly blinding yourself with the hot water. After a while it started burning, so you reached for the cold switch, but it got stuck.

You tried to turn it with all your strenght, but nothing. So you quickly turned off the hot water and decided to ask Logan for help. After all, he has much bigger muscles than you, he will definitely be able to turn it on.

You didn't even bother drying off, you just threw your white shirt back on and went straight to Logan. When you stood next to the couch and waited for him to look at you, he wasn't just looking at you, he was admiring you.

You didn't realize that you were all wet and the white shirt was wet too, stuck to your body and practically transparent, revealing everything. Logan surprisingly cleared his throat and stopped breathing for a moment but still with the stern expression.

"Would you please help me with the shower? The switch is stuck and I can't turn it on" you beg, having no idea that your shirt is pointless to even wear at this moment.

Logan didn't take in a word you just said, he looked away from your body to your face and just stared. So you repeated your request to him and he instantly nodded in agreement. You were a little surprised that he was suddenly so active, but you didn't complain.

Logan quickly got up and went to the bathroom without giving any sign of being annoyed by your request. You walked right behind him, his whiskey scent tickled your olfactory cells.

When you entered the bathroom, you ran ahead of Logan to show him exactly where the problem was. "Here...s-see?" you struggle as you tried to turn on the cold water, but again, no avail. Logan just quietly took over the switch and effortlessly turned on the cold water, like it was nothing.

You laugh from the excitement of finally being able to enjoy a shower. But the thing was that the cold water was not only flowing on you, but also on Logan. His previously dry white tank top that covered his divine body was no longer dry and is definitely no longer covering anything. You looked at each other, your smile fade away in a second.

Your gaze locked on his body. His hairy body, developed and veined, his abs looked so eatable, so does his arms and boobs. His hair was damp, he looked irresistible and you fought your demons not to jump on him like an animal.

You, on the other hand, were practically naked in front of Logan and he hadn't seen such a beautiful woman with a beautiful body in a long time. The way the water drops ran down your neck, under your wet t-shirt, around your chest to your stomach, this was the end for Logan.

Without any warning, he pounced on you like a beast, cupping your cheeks with his big hands, almost surrounding your entire face. You automatically joined in and cooperated, wrapping your arms around his veiny neck and just gently digging into him with your fingernails.

Deep passionate kisses were making you vibrate more and more from excitement. Your tongues fight with each other for dominance, sure thing that Logan won. You were so hungry each time your lips touched, so desperate for him, for his body and what it can do to you.

Logan couldn't wait any longer, he grabbed your shirt and took it off pretty briskly, even though it was practically useless. But he didn't leave you alone and took off his tank top too. You broke the kiss just to see the treasure he offers. Naturally, you reached for him and gently ran your fingers around his abs, which caught your breath.

,,You like it?” he asked hurriedly and smiled as he saw your shocked face. For someone who is really truly old, he's not bad at all. You looked up at him and smiled, giving him a chance to start kissing you again, more likely, guzzle your face. He was rough and wild but at the same time tender and loving. This combination makes a total waterfall between your legs.

He was holding you by your weist, really digging his strong fingers into your flesh, making you moan into the hungry kisses. That itself make his erection begging to finally free him from those thigh boxers, what really keeps him trapped.

He didn't wait for another sound of yours and quickly started unbuckling his pants, his clumsy hands tried to take them off as quickly as possible and you tried to help him. Your hands touched, but there was no time for romance, his growls and your sighs said it all.

When you finally managed to unzip Logan's pants as part of your cooperation, they were on the floor next to the shower in no time, along with his black boxers. His dick sprang free, making a slappy sound as it hits his belly. You needed a moment to adore his little friend, and your eyes widened from his length. How can he even walk around with this thing?

He chuckled as he watched your surprised face once more, and got your attention by grabbing your chin and lifting your head up. "My face's right here, sweatheart" you melt at his words, his tone not as stern as it used to be just moments ago and his eyes...fuck his eyes were full of lust and desire just for you.

The rules have changed a bit, the shower is no longer what you longed for and can't live for, now it's Logan. You need him badly, like breathing or eating, you need him so badly that your knees almost start to buckle in desperation and Logan knew it and sensed it.

After all, he needed you just as much as you needed him. So he decided not to delay any longer and pinned you to the wall, the shower still continued with a flow of cold water that smoothed you at least a little, but still, you were burning with arousal and passion.

He glued his lips to yours again, his body was just as glued and his cock was poking you in your inner tight, unintentionally provoked your wet folds by moving his hips to feel at least a little friction. Of course, this movement made your neck make noises you didn't even know existed.

"I won't last long with you bub" Logan mumbled between kisses but he continued with both his movements and his uncontrollable kissing and biting of your numb lips. His wolfish voice excited you whenever you heard it and your legs were already shaking with anticipation.

Logan's tip started leaking with precum and this was a clear sign for him that he should finally fuck you like you deserved.

Before you could blink, he grabbed you by the neck, but not too hard to hurt you, but not too loose to not have control over you. He found the perfect center that suited both you and him and at that moment, he began to slide it into you.

Your jaw dropped and your eyes shut tightly as you felt his tip stretching your throbbing core. Logan growled, his face pinched but his eyes open to see your pleasing face. Oh he will remember this face for the rest of his life.

He was already fully in, fitting in perfectly as if you two were just meant for each other. Logan waited a while for you to get used to him and you had the opportunity to open your eyes for a moment and admire his wet head. How the drops slowly ran down his face, down his whole body, it was so fucking hot.

After a while, when you started getting impatient and get used to his length, you started moving your hips, just a tiny moves, but Logan knew damn well you were ready for more. That's why he helped you a little by pulling out and pushing back his member into you, making you whine his name out loud.

It was peaceful steady movements, he played with you like a toy and you marveled at it. Your eyes were opened and you were holding eye contact with Logan the whole time. Every time he pushes into you, he squishes his nose and hisses and he does that again anytime he pulls out of you.

It was pain but also a thrill for him going so incredibly slow, but both of you enjoyed it like nothing else. The thing was that you were insatiable barbarians who kept wanting more and more. Logan decided to indulge both of you.

He let go of your neck, leaving big red marks and fingerprints there and moved his strong hands to your hips. He needed to keep you in a place, because what was going to happen wasn't for some weaklings.

You looked at him with hope and curiosity of what was going to happen, and you found out really soon. Without any warning or hesitation, Logan started thrusting into you with no mercy. Now this was exactly what you needed.

His animal awoke in him, his teeth clenched as his balls was slapping against your ass. It all makes easier the running water, which served as a natural lubricant, keeping you both still wet, even though you didn't really need it.

He kept muttering something under his breath as he aggressively rammed his cock headlong into you. You just let yourself be led, he had full control over you and you fucking loved it. Your hands were tightly glued to his back, your nails digging deep into his flesh but it was just a tiny, hardly felt pinch for him.

Soon you started to feel that strange feeling in your lower abdomen, that need to go to the bathroom, that burning flame, that twirling writhing feeling, all together clearly proved that you were on the edge and you won't hold it in for long.

Logan was stretching you really hard, but you were still full of his dick inside you. From time to time, his base was touching your sensitive clit, making it even harder to keep you quiet. The moment you knew you loose it completely, was when he grabbed you by your ass and lifted you up so that your legs were wrapped around his waist and you weren't touching the ground. In this position, he easily found your g-spot and he was hitting it with rage and passion, sending you straight to your orgasm.

But Logan wasn't much better off. You were so incredibly tight around him, your pussy was literally just perfect. His veins were pulsating and his dick was twitching inside you, his heartbeat accelerated and he already lost control over his movements. He was so consumed by his climax that he had no idea what his hips were doing and how hard or fast he was thrusting into you.

He snarled like a beast, watching the part where your bodies connected, being so desperate to cum inside you, filling you up so that his sperm would drop out of you. You were already losing your senses, your eyes rolled back and you make a really long and deep bloody lines on Logan's back by your sharp nails, as you were really close.

,,Logan I-" you wanted to warn him, to inform him but it was useless, because before you could finish your sentence, you clench tightly around his member, your lower body started vibrating and the pleasant feeling of relief finally flooded you all over.

Your juice started dropping on the floor and you tried to catch your breath and gain your senses back, but Logan was still going in his full speed and strength. He was really frantic trying to catch up his orgasm, which he succeeded in after a few strong and wild thrusts.

The last one was the strongest and loudest one, he screamed really loudly, not caring if Wade was already home or not, the most juiciest and the most deepest.

The only sounds in the bathroom now were your heavy breathing and the steady flow of water that didn't stop. You felt dizzy, overstimulated, but the feeling of pleasure and relief was irreplaceable. Logan felt the same as you, although he didn't see twice unlike you, but this was an unforgettable experience for him. But he didn't want to stop yet.

"You ready for round two?" he asked, keep trying to catch his breath. This question woke you up like a slap in the morning and you looked at him with wide eyes. He was serious, he meant it and you were speechless. Although you were tired, you knew that the moment Logan will let you on your feet you wouldn't keep your balance, but of course you wanted a second round.

Logan waited impatiently for your answer and when you nodded your head, it warmed your heart to see a sparkle in his eyes. Immediately, his lips were on yours again, his dick that never leave your insideness started moving again, heating you up and creating another arousal.

The overstimulation was insane, you knew you would cum soon again and it made you feel a little embarassing, but Logan was on the same boat as you. His balls were so full that he could explode at any time, he needed to empty himself inside you.

He was starting to pick up his pace and speed again and before long you were in the same situation as few minutes ago, his hips thrusting into you with no limit, you mercilessly destroying Logan's back and praying your pelvis won't crack.

If he could, he would have turned you around and fucked you from behind like a brute, but he could feel your legs being weak and practically non-functional, so he held you tightly around his waist and continued in a position that soon brought you both to your second orgasm.

You both whimpered and wailed as you struggled to fill your lungs with oxygen. Logan was still full of energy but you're only human and when a beast like Wolverine jumps at you, there's no way you'll end up in better condition than him.

After you finally breathe normally and calmly, Logan started laughing out the two powerful orgasms and dropped his forehead to yours. You joined him and you both laughed like idiots while you were still inside each other and the freezing water was pouring over you.

Wade is going to be really surprised when his water bill comes.

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[hemlock-dreams]

Not me absolutely frothing at the mouth about this AU. Can we get an info dump on the Lore? It's making me want to abandon my current Spideypool WIP for this. Absolutely terminal brainrot for this boy

BEHOLD: MASSIVE LORE DUMP!

Peter B. Parker is a young troublemaker who has a problem with authority. He also has a knack for picking tech apart and putting it back together, which puts him on the radar for a small-time gang that needs someone to act as their alarm system breaker for a big score.

Unfortunately, said score had bad intel and what was supposed to be a simple robbery turns out to be manslaughter when the resulting fire that was supposed to cover up their tracks ends up killing two guards.

Peter is tried as an adult with the rest of the gang and sentenced to Rykers for 5 years.

Check out the full page HERE.

At Rykers, Peter meets Marko Flint, who takes Peter under his wing. and teaches him how to survive and thrive when wearing the orange.

Life goes on for 5 years. He learns the trade, gets some tats, learns how to make some great shivs, and becomes a better criminal all around. Yay prison!

Peter gets out at 21, and reunites with Uncle Ben and Aunt May. He does his best to clean up his act, but normal life is hard for someone who spent their formative years in prison.

(He also makes questionable hair and fashion choices. What can I say, he's catching up!)

He goes from job to job, trying to pay back his aunt and uncle for all their support but is completely unequipped for the 'real world.' After a few months working/getting fired from soul-crushing menial jobs (HS dropout!), he agrees to take 'one last job' with Marko that is 'guaranteed to set them up for life'.

*cough*

This robbery goes off without a hitch! No one is hurt and they make off after hitting a heavily armored Oscorp Transport with a ton of documents/tech that they aim to sell to the highest bidder.

The biggest mystery is that one glowing vial of untested, experimental serum they found...

Unfortunately, Oscorp doesn't take robbery lightly. Marko finds out through contacts that the serum (whatever it is) is too hot to sell on the market, so he instructs Peter to get rid of it so it can't be traced back to them.

Peter, a rational 22-year-old ex-con, 'gets rid of it' by mixing the serum into ink and tattooing it onto his wrist, triggering the start of his mutations.

It takes a bit, but Peter get's all the regular spiderman benefits (webs are organic), plus one more. The serum was created from the venom of the Portia Spider, a hunting/jumping spider known to be uniquely intelligent among arachnids.

Alongside the speed/strength/spideysense, Peter also grows some fangs that secrete a powerful venom.

The venom speeds up the body's processes, working almost like an insane performance booster and enhancing an injected person's strength, speed, and senses for a few hours.

Unfortunately, repeated doses also eventually induce shock, paralysis, and, later, death.

He gives a few samples of it to Marko as an exit fee.

Uncle Ben was suspicious of how Peter suddenly got so much money, but took him on good faith. But, while he was watching the news that covered the Oscorp robbery, connected the dots and had a blowout fight with Peter that ended with him having a cardiac event.

Unfortunately, he did not survive.

Aunt May and Peter were estranged over this for several years.

This event crushes Peter, sobering him up immediately. He goes back and gets his HS diploma, and works on night courses in college.

However, he spends much of his days wandering, angry at himself and what he did. He beats up a mugger one day and realizes that he could be using his powers to back up the faith Ben had in him.

Spiderman is born!

Eventually, he and Aunt May reunite, and their relationship is slowly healing.

A few years later, Peter is on the up. He and Aunt May are close again! He's got a bachelor's in computer science, has a (semi) steady job, and is well-liked as Spiderman by the populace at large. His rogue's gallery is roguing- etc.

Unfortunately, a variant of his venom (developed by Kingpin) hits the streets as a drug. It's favored by both criminals for its performance-enhancing strength, as well as civilians, for the time-slowing sensation/high it gives them.

His girlfriend, Mary Jane, who has been sober for a few years, relapses. Peter, knowing that he can't stop her from getting it on her own, reveals his identity and becomes her main source.

At least, this way, he can control the dosage.

Marko (who sold Peter's venom to Kingpin) manages to fire off his only two brain cells and realizes that Spiderman IS Peter Parker.

Then he outs him to the world because Spiderman made it personal.

Peter's life catches on fire. The entire world is after him. His loved ones have to go into hiding because there's no shortage of criminals and psychopaths who want to get their hands on MJ and Aunt May to get to Spiderman.

Peter ceases to exist. It's not safe anymore. He spends days (weeks? months?) in the suit. Eventually, on the run and burnt out, he pleads his case to Dr. Strange in desperation. (Ala No Way Home)

"Everyone deserves a clean start."

Dr. Strange agrees, but the spell can't work with Peter still existing as part of the equation. So it fires him off into a reality where Peter B. Parker, and by extension Spiderman, never existed.

So how's an ex-con/ex-superhero (for now) supposed to carve a space in a world that never knew him? By finding somewhere that doesn't ask any questions.

And it just so happens, that St. Margaret's School for Wayward Children has a reputation for both being a bar of questionable repute and looking the other way.

Might as well start there.

~~~~~~~~~

Thank you so much for this lovely, lovely ask! I hope this massive lore dump wasn't overkill, but I'm having a lot of fun with this world and wanted to share.

And I offer this lore dump ONLY on the condition that you do not drop whatever you're working on. There is always space for more spideypool in the world, don't deprive us!!!

[tsukimefuku]

3rd of july ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚ nanami kento

piece written in collaboration with my beloved friend and one of my favorite people, @rahuratna, for nanami's (a.k.a. internet's collective husbando) birthday. 💜🧡 content warning: fluff/comedy/sugestiveness word count: 1k

Nanami wasn't one to make big celebrations on his birthday. Up until he met you, he'd usually go about his work day quietly, saving up a few extra hours to simply go bowling or visit his favorite restaurants for dinner.

After you both started dating, not much had changed. You'd simply tag along for whatever he had planned, and would usually surprise him with something by the time you both got home - a box of dark chocolate, a new set of lingerie, a nice warm scented bath, a new CD album he had been looking for.

This time, however, you decided to push your luck on teasing the poor man.

On his birthday, of all days.

"Kento, how do you feel about surprise parties?" you ask, hiding the smile pulled on your cheeks behind your tea cup.

On the couch by your side, you could feel Nanami holding the urge to flinch the moment you were finished speaking.

"They are not my favorite," he answers in earnest.

"Seriously?" you inquire with a faux disheartened look.

"Yes," Nanami replies, with a tinge of concern to his voice.

"That is... unfortunate, then," you ensue, putting your tea on the coffee table and pulling your robe tighter around your body.

His Adam's apple bobs as he silently gulps.

"Why?"

"Well, my plan was to surprise you when you got home, but I figured you wouldn't want to get instantly jumped. So I told them to wait in the room," you finally say, with a grave finality, pointing to the closed bedroom door.

Truth is, he has no clue what you are really up to.

"Darling…" Nanami sighs, ever so patiently, "I thought it would just be the both of us unwinding, like the past years."

"I… I'm sorry, I really wanted to surprise you with something different this time."

You do sound regretful, and he plants a soft kiss on your cheek in response. Even now, he doesn't quite find it in himself to be annoyed at you, even if the prospect of Gojo lurking around his bedroom is enough to send disgusted shivers down his spine.

"It's… fine. Let's get this over with at once, and then have the house to ourselves."

"Are you sure? I could always go in there and tell them to-"

"No," he counters firmly. "You've arranged something a little different this year, and I'm going to appreciate it."

"Come on, then."

As perceptive as he is, Nanami doesn't notice the mischievous smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Naturally, since you have successfully planted a seed in his mind, a terrifying image of his pristine suits being tried on by students and his custom made bowling ball being transformed into a disco light by the white-haired menace he calls a colleague.

When you reach the door and step aside for him, he visibly braces himself, fingers almost straightening a phantom tie at his throat.

"Sweetheart, I need to go and fetch a scarf. It's a little chilly in here."

Bless his heart. He's actually playing along.

You raise your voice.

"Oh, I left the blue one on the top shelf. Your closet."

"Right."

Nanami heads in with the air of a man charging from the trenches to face a volley of cannon fire. He stops dead in his tracks, eyes taking in the room.

It is empty of people, for starters.

The comforter on the bed has been pulled back, the white sheets scattered with rose petals. Candles have been placed strategically on the bedside table and vanity, emitting the subtle scent of the ocean. On a corner of the bed, a few ribbon-wrapped gifts await; a small stack of books and a box of his favourite dark chocolate with orange.

You saunter in behind him and he turns to you with a look that is both a solemn reprimand and a loving promise of a punishment you may appreciate later.

"Hmm. It's awfully crowded in here, my dear."

"Well, the rose petals were quite chatty, Kento. They've taken up all the space on our bed."

"They have indeed, you little-"

You laugh as you slip out of his reach, standing coyly in the doorway.

"Have a look at your gifts first."

He narrows his eyes, but approaches the bed, fingers unraveling the ribbon that holds the books together.

"What do we have here? 'The Master and Margarita.' Ah, wonderful. 'Bowling your way home: A salaryman's escape from bondage.'"

He pauses and raises an eyebrow and you gesture airily for him to keep going.

"Fine. What's this one? The-"

His voice cuts off abruptly.

"Kento? Are you all right?"

Very slowly, he turns to you.

"You got me the Kama Sutra?"

"I figured it would make a nice addition to your collection. I may even borrow it, from time to time."

You approach him now, casually opening the book to where you've placed a strategic leather marker within the section on sex positions.

"Since it's your birthday, maybe you'd like to start with the Virsha here?"

He considers the page seriously, before taking the book from you and flipping through it.

"I'm not sure, darling. You've put in enough effort setting all of this up."

Handing it back to you, he watches the flush that spreads upwards, across your neck as you are presented with the Indrani pose he has chosen instead.

"How about you let me do the work from here on out?"

"Well... "

"No, I insist."

His voice has that special intonation now, the husky rumble of desire, the inflection of hushed intimacy, the promise of that playful nature that only reveals itself when you're entangled in the sheets together.

You lay the book down, open to the very instructive illustration.

"In that case, let me present you with my last gift."

"There's another?"

Wordlessly, the robe you've been so studiously arranging around yourself slides to the floor. His kindling gaze takes in the sheer, violet lace, the tiny flowers embroidered strategically over the parts of you that he will discover at leisure.

***

Later, when the gossamer material lies discarded on the floor, when his exhausted limbs entwine with your own, when his golden hair runs like silk between your fingers, you speak into the hush of the bedroom.

"Happy birthday, my love."

His voice is muffled from where his face is pressed against your stomach.

"That was quite the surprise party."

"Maybe we should have one every year."

He snorts indignantly, but his lips curve in a smile against your skin all the same.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

cw: hair pulling, 141 sexcapade discussion.

"You know, I've never understood it," Gaz said, folding another hand as the cards Nik turned over on the table ruined his chance of a Full House. They'd had a few, so Gaz's brain was wading slowly towards its point when Soap folded too.

"Ye dinnae ken much, Garrick. Ye gonnae have tae narrow it doon."

Ghost raked in his winnings and then stood with a grunted, "need a slash."

Gaz scowled and flipped over one of the cards they'd been playing with before Nik could tidy it away. The set was raunchy, with depictions of busty girls in various states of undress and intimacy. The Ace of Spades had a brunette facing out of the card, her lover behind her with one hand in her hair. "Why do girls ask for this?"

"Why ask for doggy?" Soap asked, smirking around the top of his beer bottle.

"Nah, mate. The hair pulling. I've had at least two birds ask me for it. It can't be fuckin' good, can it?"

"Aye, well, I dunnae tend tae pull the freaky ones, so..."

"Alright, alright. Shut it. Nik, help me out here." Gaz looked over at their dealer, who was busy expertly shuffling the cards for the next round.

"There is a right way and a wrong way to pull hair, sergeant," Nik said.

Gaz raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Da, observe." Nik placed the deck down carefully and turned towards Soap. "The wrong way is to grab a random tuft," he lifted a large palm and snagged a handful of Soap's mohawk, shaking him from side to side, "and just start pulling them about. It is wrong. Hurts, no?"

"Ah, Jesus fuck, Nik," Soap squawked, batting at Nik's forearm. "Aye. Feels like ye scalpin' me."

Ghost returned, chuckling low in his throat at Soap's bleats of protest. He rolled his bally up over his nose and took a swig of bourbon, observing the little scene he'd stumbled back in on with interest. "Li'le scrote finally run his mouth too much, Nikolai?"

"Naw, Nik's showin' Garrick how t' pull a lady's hair in bed." Soap growled, head still tilted at an odd angle where Nik had scruffed the strip of ferret fur he called a hairstyle.

"Oh yeah?" Ghost's eyes slid over to Nik, lingering on the hand that released Soap's mohawk. "G'won then, show us the proper way."

"Regrettably, the sergeants both favour the short back and sides, but yours is longer." Nik rose to his feet, matching Ghost in height and bulk. Ghost's hackles should go up, but with Nik, they hadn't in years. It had something to do with how Price was around him, Ghost reckoned. When your damn leader relaxed, you were relaxed. Like a good dog. Nik spread his hands. "May I, lieutenant? Your mask will remain on."

"C'mon, L.T. Lessee."

"I'll buy you a drink at the pub when we get home, sir."

Ghost swallowed, levelling Nik with a heavy stare. "Ya pull my hairline as far as yours and we'll 'ave a problem," he murmured, emptying his glass before placing it down on the table. When Nik stepped into space, he got a hit of expensive cologne and engine oil that sat pleasantly on the back of his tongue. Damn handsome bastard too, all things considered. Ghost tried not to scrutinise what having him so close did to his heart.

Nik's hand settled on Ghost's shoulder first and then slid around the back of his neck, careful to keep his thumb tucked to avoid Ghost's throat.

"You slide your hand up their neck through the roots at the back," he said softly, his hand moving as he spoke, fingertips sliding beneath Simon's bally to the softness of his blond hair. "And you pull upwards, keeping your fingers close to their scalp."

What was left of Ghost's soul left his body momentarily as Nik pulled. His belly did a little flip, his knees suddenly weak, shoulders rising as he sucked in a shocked gasp. The sensation that bristled over his scalp settled behind his eyes, and they rolled closed as it continued down his spine. The world screeched to a halt as Ghost zeroed in on the man before him, his instincts firing off like sparkplugs in an engine struggling to turn over. Frozen.

Nik was watching him closely, his head tilted to the side. "It should not cause pain, but it is a... mammalian response, like a cat scruffing its kitten. It should inspire a feeling of pleasure in submission."

Ghost couldn't breathe. His eyes flickered open and he zoned in on Nik's dark eyes, the fullness of his lips and the unshaven scruff of stubble around his jawline. In that breathless moment, Ghost's entire body tingled with heat and want. He could feel Nik's warmth, so close and yet not touching him at all but for the hand in his hair; a sturdy bulwark waiting to catch him. What Ghost would give to press his face into the open collar of his shirt and rub through the dark hair he could see there, while--

"'Ear that, L.T.? Ye like a big fuckin' kitten."

Soap's jibe broke the spell and Nik released Ghost's hair, stepping out of his space to return to his seat. His gaze lingered on Ghost's eyes before he turned, and for a tense second Ghost was fockin' worried he'd be outed for whatever the hell that was. But Nik sat down with a nonchalant shrug.

"Shut it, Johnny," Ghost grunted. "Don' see what all the fuss is about."

"Aye, ye tell 'em, sir. Missionary with the lights off fully clothed is the only way, eh?"

Ghost flipped Soap his middle finger and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. "Gonna hit the sack, long day tomorrow. Don' fuck around too late." He left the room at what he hoped was a reasonable pace, but his mind was already elsewhere, namely on the aching boner stretching down his right trouser leg. He was grateful no one could read minds; if he was thinking of Nik as he had a sad, furious and slightly drunk wank, then that was between him and god.

Nik watched Ghost's retreating back over the rim of his vodka glass, his head tilted to the side in thoughtful consideration. The embers he had watched flare to life in those somber brown eyes were unmistakable. He had seen similar in two twin baby blues only two mornings ago.

Khoroshego vam nastroyeniya i do vstrechi, Simon.

[natalievoncatte]

Everything was in place. Lena dropped down into the passenger seat of Jess’s car. The trunk was loaded with presents and books and Lena was ready. Jess fired up the engine of her 2009 Honda Civic and off they went, navigating National City traffic.

Lena’s stomach was full of butterflies. She had her hood up and was dressed down in sweats, not looking at all her fashion place self. Jess parked by one of the service entrances and a security guard let them in with a curt nod. Lena had dropped him a four figure tip to cooperate.

The kids were gathered in a common area on the fifth floor pediatric intensive unit, ranging in age from three to fifteen. Lena fought the lump that formed in her throat as they gathered, some of the younger ones in the laps of the older.

Lena started with a reading of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, complete with sill voices and big smiles and a lot of effort on her part to keep tears from welling in her eyes.

Some of these kids were having their last Christmas, and some of them knew it. Some didn’t. Others would go home, and a lucky few would help change the world with their participation in clinical trials.

On some level Lena knew that Kara would show up eventually- she’d been dropping in regularly enough, once learning that Lena read to the kids.

Sure enough, she showed up as the kids were eating turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy prepared under the supervision of a Michelin star chef that Lena had hired at great expense to prepare their dinner.

Supergirl, all swagger and power, strode into the room. The response was curious. They knew her of course, and she’d been there enough times, even read to them, that there was a peculiar familiarity to her visits and only the new kids got truly excited.

They were more excited by Kara’s plus one. She’d brought with her the most perfect Santa Claus that Lena had ever seen. No fake beard here; every whisker was real, as was every crease and wrinkle. Even his costume was flawless, velvet coat and paints lined with genuine fur. He had a huge beach sack thrown over one shoulder and greeted the kids with a cheer, setting to work handing out gifts.

Kara came over and stood next to Lena.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” said Lena.

Across the room, Santa gave a hearty Ho! Ho! Ho!, and had taken up a seat to invite kids onto his lap.

“Believe it or not,” Kara said, “he owes me a favor.”

Lena snorted and Kara winked.

“‘sides, I live at the North Pole, too. Sort of.”

Lena watched the man with the children. He really was quite good, a consummate professional.

She looked over at Kara. There was a twinge of pink in her cheeks and snowflakes melting in her hair, and her new suit showed off her muscular arms. More than that, there was a look of a wistful joy in her eyes as she watched the kids enjoy themselves.

Lena’s heart would have grown three sizes that day, if it didn’t already feel like it might burst through her ribs every time she looked at Kara, really looked at Kara.

She’d long ago admitted her feelings to herself- it was getting them out that was the problem, even now.

Across the room, Santa Claus stood, startling Lena out of her reverie.

“I’m sorry kids, but I really must go. Lots more visits to make tonight!”

He stood and walked over to Kara. “I do have that one stop to make before I begin my rounds proper. Shall we?”

He even had the perfect Santa voice.

Kara turned to Lena and offered a hand.

That was how Lena ended up in something like the setup for a bad joke: Riding in an elevator with Santa Claus and Supergirl.

It was actually rather awkward. Kara opened the roof access door and motioned for Lena, and the Santa Claus impersonator followed her out. Kara went last, lingering by the door.

“May we speak in private?” Santa said.

“Sure,” said Lena, happy to play along. She pulled her hood up against the chill and walked a few dozen paces from Kara, and Santa turned to face her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you that easy bake oven you wanted when you were six,” he began.

Lena’s face fell. Lillian had exploded at her when she asked on Santa’s lap, a much less convincing Santa, and asked for the silly cooking toy.

She’d screamed that menial tasks were beneath a Luthor and Lena was supposed to ask for the American Girl dolls that Lillian had already bought, and what an ungrateful, spoiled little bitch she was. It was the first time that Lillian had called her that and far from the last; she’d added many insults to it over the years, like stupid or lazy or, most painfully of all, fat; dropping that one had sent Lena into a spiral of crash dieting that almost turned into full blown bulimia by the time she graduated from high school.

She’d never told anyone about the easy bake oven. Not even Kara.

Before Lena could demand an explanation or even speak, Santa reached into his bag, withdrew something, and handed it to her.

Lena took the stuffed bear on instinct. When she did she knew it was more than a bear. As her hands touched the somewhat ratty fur and she saw the little tear in his left ear she knew, she knew.

When the Luthors took her in, Lillian destroyed everything of her old life- everything of her mother, as if to erase her from ever existing. It was spiteful, and hateful. Lillian couldn’t revenge herself on his husband’s mistress so she did it to her child.

She’d burned Lena’s stuffed animals. They were all gone, reduced to ash.

Except… except…

“Clive?” Lena whispered, hot tears burning down her cheeks. “This is impossible, how…”

He placed a gloved hand on her shoulder and Lena felt a wave of indescribable shock roll through her. Something just… opened.

Her mind filled with an image of perfect clarity, and a song fresh and bright in her ears. Her mother’s voice and the distant sound of the sea that would eventually take her. All her life Lena could barely remember her mother- she clawed at scraps, more able to feel her than truly remember her.

Not anymore. As she clutched the bear to her chest, memory flooded her mind like warmth from a hearth fire filling a cold room. She grinned like a fool and choked back sobs.

“How?” Lena chirped out.

“Kara asked me to bring you something very special, and I do owe her a favor. I really must get going, though.”

Then she heard it. Jingling bells.

Lena had seen a woman fly; said woman had saved her from splatting on the pavement too many times. She had never seen reindeer fly, pulling a sleigh behind them.

Wait.

No.

This was not possible.

Santa Claus threw his sack in the rear of the sleigh and climbed aboard. He threw Lena a wave.

“Merry Christmas, Lena Luthor.”

“Wait,” Lena called. “Did you bring Kara something?”

“What Kara Zor-El Danvers wants, I cannot give her,” he said, with a cryptic grin.

Lena stumbled back as the reindeer launched into a full gallop with a blast of air, the rider snapping his reins. It was only then that Lena noticed that the lead animal had a glowing red nose.

Kara stepped up behind her and put her hands on Len/ shoulders.

“Kara,” Lena said. “That was the real Santa Claus.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t understand. That was the real Santa Claus. He’s real. Santa Claus is real and he gave me my stuffed bear back.”

As Lena turned, Kara smiled. “I know, baby.”

Lena swiped at her cheeks.

“I-I don’t know how you did this, but thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t even know what to say.”

Kara stepped closer, into her space. Very gently, she brushed away one of Lena’s tears with the pad of her thumb.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“He said he couldn’t get you what he wanted. I find that hard to believe.”

“He can’t just give it to me because it’s not his to give. He did give me this, though.”

Kara reached under her cape, drawing out a small twig with a pair of scalloped leaves and some red berries.

“Is that mistletoe?”

“Yeah,” said Kara.

She lifted it over her head and held it there, smiling at Lena.

It took a moment for her brain to catch up. Kara was holding the mistletoe over her head. She was under the mistletoe.

Lena faltered for just a moment, but then stepped forward, closing what little gap was left between them. Kara was every inch the dashing prince as she put her arm around Lena’s waist, spinning her a little as the other hand cupped her chin and tilted her head just so for Kara to place a gentle, loving, and utterly devastating closed-mouth kiss on Lena’s lips.

Suddenly Lena understood what it was that Kara wanted and for the second time in as many minutes her heart soared and Lena threw her arms around Kara’s neck and they swayed there like dancers amid the snow flurries until Kara flew them home.

[lis-likes-fics]

A Deal’s a Deal

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Gold!Reader Word Count: 11.7k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, smoking, oral (f and m!receiving), dom/sub themes, degradation, virgin!reader, gun kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, Tommy is mean and she wants him to be ... A/N: So this was absolutely filthy and I will not apologize. I am American, but I used to British spelling for (as many of) the words that I caught because sometimes I like it better and it also just fit more for the fic. Also, when I say “gun kink”, I mean gun kink. This is filthy shit. Who knows? I may consider writing a second... Enjoy.

Keen eyes were the first thing Tommy noticed as Aberama Gold walked onto the yard, a sly smirk set in place among blond hair and a suit likely just as expensive as his own. The way his eyes surveyed the yard, examined every inch he could without touching any of it, even stopping by Charlie for a word, made Tommy aware it was for more than just surveillance.

Aberama finally approached, his men following after with their own vigilance. "I just took a look around. I like this place," he announced. "Fire for melting silver, canal to get it away." He stopped in front of him, well out of reach but just as imposing as the growing headache Tommy felt nagging at the back of his head. "How much?"

Tommy took a long look at him, still as a statue as blue eyes pierced through blue eyes. He considered not even regarding the question, moving on to more pressing business and pretending it had never been asked, but he knew better. Arthur drank from his flask.

"Nothing you see here is for sale, Mr. Gold."

He disagreed. "Oh, everything's for sale. Everything."

Tommy pinched his cigarette between his fingers, bringing it to his lips but not quite slipping it through yet. Aberama spilled the rest of the tea in his cup into the fire, which roared with the fuel to its flames.

"You tell Mr. Strong I'm going to buy his yard." He didn't leave room for debate.

But Tommy didn't care. "This yard has been in his family since they settled." He moved the cigarette between his lips.

"But I've decided to make it a part of our deal."

There was a long pause as the men stared each other down, testing the other's strength, their tolerance of cold eyes. The sounds of metal and fire and cups on tables next to them filled the silence and fueled the suspense of a standoff.

"Charlie?" Tommy finally spoke, calling to his uncle. "Charlie, come here." He obliged with a sigh. As he stood next to him with a dirty rag to clean dirty hands, Tommy continued. "Gonna spin a coin for your yard, Charlie."

Frustration was quick to settle at his words. He dropped his hands at his sides. "You're goin' to what?"

Tommy didn't spare him a glance, never breaking contact with Aberama as he spoke. "If it's heads, Abbie here takes all of this with my blessing."

"Tommy?" Charlie warned, upset.

"And if it's tails…" he considered for a moment, gesturing to Aberama with his cigarette in hand, "I fuck your daughter, Mr. Gold."

Aberama's grin fell. Arthur laughed, a stifled laugh into his arm at the offer. Tommy's demeanour did not change.

Now, Tommy was a smart man who did his research. He knew all about Aberama Gold's family, but more specifically about his daughter—and, even more specifically, about his oldest. He knew she was a primary school teacher, how that came to be, he was sure it was with the help of her father. He knew she was Aberama's firstborn, born from another woman he'd fallen for but lost too quick to be left without love. Lastly, he knew she was without a husband, or even a suitor with the potential of wedding bells. With how beautiful you had been rumoured to be, he didn't understand it.

He was shocked he hadn't already had you yet.

"You have three daughters, I hear, and Y/N is the oldest and also the prettiest, so I'll have her. So make her part of the deal and spin against the yard." He replaced his cigarette between his lips, putting his hands in his pockets.

Arthur was still amused. The same could not be said for Charlie as he stepped closer. "Tommy, for fuck's sake."

Tommy fished for a coin in his pocket, flicking it over. "Here, you toss the coin, Mr. Gold."

He caught it easily, staring down Tommy before moving the coin in his palm to examine it thoughtfully. Then he smiled, a slow smile spreading over his lips, ready to call a bluff.

Tommy shook his head, just as serious and solemn as before as he took in his grin. "No." He shook his head, raising a finger to point at him with grim intent. "Please don't believe this is a joke, the coin to us is sacred. Yes, Arthur?"

"Sacred," Arthur agreed, his eyes as still and as menacing as his brother's.

They continued to stare. Aberama continued to think.

Tommy gave his warning. "You toss that coin, you take a bet before witnesses, and if I win…"

"Then we'll insist that the terms of this agreement…" Arthur tried again, "wager are fulfilled."

Tommy's eyes held a threat. "Toss the coin, Mr. Gold."

Aberama considered, setting the coin on the crook of his finger and propping his thumb underneath. He contemplated, debating himself and his luck silently as the sounds of metal and fire raged against the silence and pulled the tension taut. Loud, defeaning.

"Tommy Shelby, OBE," he mumbled, still considering. Tommy saw the moment of decision behind his eyes before it reached his face. The challenge, the question of "Perhaps?" warring in his mind. Aberama smiled a small smile. "I'll take your wager."

The Shelby boys tilted up their heads.

Aberama flipped the coin into the air, watching as it twirled and twirled and twirled. The coin made its descent into his hands and he sighed as he closed his palm and slapped it onto the back of his hand. The coin seared his flesh as he stared at Tommy, hoping to see the right side of the coin staring back at him when he unveiled the result.

They stared, tense. "Well?" Tommy raised a brow.

Aberama removed his hand.

And his luck drained as he stared down at the coin tails up to the world.

He lingered for a moment, feeling the eyes on him burning into his skin just as the coin did. "...Congratulations, Mr. Shelby," he breathed. He took the coin and showed the boys. "Tails."

Tommy's lip twitched, although it was hardly susceptible to the eye. "Tails," he repeated, his voice darker than before. He readjusted his stance, regarding Aberama as he spoke to the uncle at his side. "Go on back to work, Charlie. Your yard is safe."

Charlie stepped closer, asking the question as though he was whispering it just to him. "Are you actually going to fuck his daughter, Tom?"

Tommy still didn't look at Charlie, watching Aberama intensely, as if to remind him that this was all his fault.

People seemed to forget who he was. They seemed to forget that you shouldn't fuck around with Tommy fucking Shelby, OBE.

"A deal's a deal, Charlie," he said. "Isn't that right, Mr. Gold?"

He stared back with fire in his eyes. "Aye, Mr. Shelby."

~

The cab slowed to a stop in front of the large estate you were an expected guest in. Looking out of the window and through the dark, your stomach flipped at the prospect of the meeting you were meant to attend.

Your father had told you that the infamous Thomas Shelby was interested in meeting you. You were grading loads of papers at the time when you stopped to look at him, frozen in confusion. You asked him why and he brushed off the topic like he hadn't even brought it up, giving you a time and date and leaving it at that.

And now you're here, staring at his house and feeling the anxiety of how this evening would go as you stepped out of the car and watched him drive off. You fixed your dress, straightened your spine, and released a breath before beginning the looming evening with a walk up to the door through the dark, guided only by the lamps outside.

You clicked the knocker three times, waiting with your clutch held tightly in front of you. As the door was pulled open, you were somehow relieved to be met with an older woman. Though her blue eyes were shocking and her quirked brow was intimidating, she offered a kind smile and you were put to ease.

You really shouldn't have been as anxious as you were. You were a Gold and a gypsy—if something bad was going to happen to you, you would know and you wouldn't be there in the first place.

But this was Thomas Shelby, and you were terrified. He was rumoured to be the devil himself.

The woman opened the door wider. "Hello." She looked you up and down before stepping aside. "Come in."

You thanked her quietly, walking into the house and glancing around. It was nice. "How may I help you this late in the night?" she wondered, clasping her hands behind her as she awaited your answer.

"Um…" You smiled bashfully but not without the air of respect you've grown into and been taught to demand. "I don't actually know why I'm here. My father, Aberama Gold, sent me to see Tommy Shelby. I am to have an appointment with him?"

She hummed, "Of course. Wait here while I go fetch him." She began to walk off before correcting herself, looking back at you with a respectful smile. "Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?"

"No, thank you."

She left.

You stood in the foyer, twiddling your thumbs atop your clutch as your heart skips in your chest. With a calming breath, you steadied yourself, closing your eyes and waiting patiently.

You swung a foot out, taking a step forward as you wandered farther down the hall to see inside the main room. It was large, decorated sparsely with paintings and tiny statuettes. You didn't get a good look.

When she came back, she was not alone. Turning at the sound of shoes descending stairs, you saw him.

He still wore a suit. Although his jacket was removed, his timepiece was still in place connected to its chain. His sleeves were rolled up—you weren't sure why you noticed that so clearly.

He stared at you with a cigarette between his lips as his cold, blue eyes pierced your soul. Your heart jumped again. Anxious.

He watched you, looking you up and down and taking you in. He brought his hand up to remove his cigarette from between his lips, releasing a long, smoky breath. The look in his eyes shook you.

"Thank you, Mary." His voice was deep as it rumbled in his chest. "You can go to bed now."

Mary looked you up and down briefly. She bowed her head. "Yes, sir."

You didn't break eye contact with Tommy as she ascended the stairs. Even when she was completely gone, he didn't look away. The intensity of his gaze was hard to keep up.

You looked away.

"Come," he finally spoke, walking down the rest of the stairs and meeting you. He lingered in front of you for a moment, as if he just wanted a closer look, before continuing to move. You willed your feet to do so, following slowly behind him.

He took you to his study just off from the main room, pushing the door open to allow you inside. You entered silently, glancing along the room to take it in. He had a library, a burning fireplace, plenty of sofas, and a large wall of windows. The drapes were already drawn for the night, and the large room was illuminated by a small chandelier. You set your purse on the nearest table.

You watched Tommy walk toward his desk in front of the windows. He leaned on it, crossing one leg in front of the other. He stared at you again, and you quickly became frustrated with his gaze as you sighed gently and stood across from him, keeping plenty of distance.

Silence stretched on as he continued to stare and smoke, and you were growing impatient as you stared back. The longer he watched you, unyielding, the more you felt the need to squirm. It was only when you broke his eye contact again, like you had before on the stairs, that he decided to speak.

"Do you know why you're here, Miss Gold?" he asked.

Now that this was finally going somewhere, you sighed. "Y/N, and no," you replied.

He raised his brows. "What did your father tell you, Y/N?"

You shrugged. "That you wanted to meet me and nothing else." His vagueness was really beginning to frustrate you after enduring all of that staring. Why had he stared for so long?

Tommy hummed deep in his chest, looking you up and down with a little nod of his head. He put it bluntly as he gestured toward you with his cigarette. "Your father lied."

It was your turn to raise your brows. "I'm sorry?"

Tommy reached behind him to put his cigarette out, stifling it against the ashtray on his desk. "Your father flipped a coin for a bit of property and lost. In return," he looked at you again, speaking slowly, "he gave you to me to fuck."

Your heart was slamming into your ribcage at the knowledge. Images of such a thing flashed behind your eyes, and your throat went dry. You looked down at your shoes for a moment, blinking rapidly as you stretched your jaw. "I-I don't understand," you confessed, releasing a humourless chuckle and licking your lips. "He… he wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't he?" he shrugged. When you didn't reply, he furrowed his brows. "Why else would you be here?"

You still didn't respond. He allowed you to process, though part of you felt like he was enjoying all of this, and you did not.

The anticipation started at your heart and spread through your body as it made a home in your chest, curling and writhing there in a bundle of anxious energy.

You swallowed thickly, "Are you going to hurt me, Mr. Shelby?"

He considered your question, mumbling quietly to himself as though he was mocking you, "Am I going to hurt you?" His eyes raked over your body, considering something silently in his head before he spoke again. "Come here."

You didn't move, otherwise frozen in place as you stared at him. Your disobedience seemed to astound him for a moment as he raised his dark brows and pointed to his shoes. "Here. Now." His voice was deeper with the command. He left no room for defiance.

Your body responded before your mind, not eager to see what would happen if you refused a second time. Your feet took you carefully toward him, slow steps treading the space between you until you were hardly a foot apart from him. His expression seemed to ease then, just enough to tell you that you were close enough now.

He took in your face from this distance. You could almost feel his breath. He spoke to you in a low voice, one that rumbled deep in his chest and resonated with you.

"I am a devil, but I'm no monster." Where you expected a crook of his finger to lift your chin, he gave you his hand to take a hold of your jaw and pull you close. "I won't force myself upon you, but if you agree to this, I will not be gentle. So, yes… I am going to hurt you."

You didn't respond—you couldn't. His words echoed in your mind and your mind warred with your body over what you would do in response and, thus, created none. You were frozen, staring at him as he held your face in a slight grip and held your attention in a much tighter one. You forget the fire burning smoke up its chimney. You forget the rows and rows of books lining the shelves of the office. You forget the clothes on your back, for his stare had stripped you bare for him to see.

He let go of your face, but you were not sure how well your brain registered that as you lingered in the same position, gripped in the same attention.

"If you want to leave," he said after a moment, "you'd better walk out of that door right now under the lie that the wager between your father and me was fulfilled. Hell, I'll even make you a cup of tea while you wait, and you can be on your way."

You considered that option. It would be like you never even came—except you did. And you knew you did. The stain of his stare, the hole he had burned into your clothes, into your skin, would never wash away. You would feel it every hour of every day as a reminder of the time you met the Tommy Shelby and lived not to tell the tale.

"But if you stay…" the corner of his lip twitched up at the idea, his pupils darkened and his voice deepened, "you're not leaving until I say you can." Even with their simplicity, his words made you shiver.

"Now, I will ask you once and one time only…" he leaned forward, his head very slightly tilted, his nose nearly brushing yours, "Are you leaving?"

As if you could say no with him this close to you. As if you could say anything with him this close to you.

Your options were idiotic.

Leave and live with the memories you gained here—the closeness, the silent obedience, the cold stare you could never wash from your soul. You would always feel it, feel him. He would never go away, plaguing your mind like a ghost of what could have been.

Or…you could stay. You could stay here and see what happened. You could let him ravage you, let him tear you apart and lick at your flesh and bone as he took you under his primal gaze. You could succumb to the ice in his eyes and let the burn of his touch mix together in some powerful, searing concoction. You would never wash his stain off, no matter how hard you scrubbed, but some part of you was alright with that.

And Tommy seemed to see that in your eyes.

He was amused as he shook his head, leaning back and away from you. He was teasing, you knew it now, heavily amused by the tiny reactions he earned from you as he pulled away to make you suffer a hint of withdrawal. It was with that distance that you realised you'd fallen in his trap, gone in too deep to turn back and be rescued from this tragic and ungodly addiction.

"No, you're not," he said—and, for a moment, you forget what he was talking about. "I can see it in your eyes, the same look your father had before he flipped that coin. You want to know what'll happen if you stay."

You seemed to snap out of it almost as you took a step back, establishing a bit more space as he revealed things you didn't want revealed. In doing so, you proved his point.

"You know exactly what happens if you leave. You go back to your regular life as a school teacher with siblings and a father to take care of." He chuckled silently, and you clenched your teeth. "No, you want to see how far this will go."

He raked his eyes over you for the hundredth time, and he knew the rumours were true. Pretty eyes, pretty lashes, pretty lips, pretty blushy cheeks. There was not a flaw on you that he could see. You were a beauty, an unconquered beauty he intended not to leave uncharted.

You looked away from him, glancing down between your feet and your hands and anywhere but his face as you processed his words, digesting them for what they were—the ugly truth you wished you could throw a blanket back over, swept back under the rug and hidden from view.

Tommy tilted his head as something dawned on him.

"Are you a virgin, Y/N?"

You kept your eyes on the ground, like you were watching his shoes—which you probably are—and shook your head. "I change my mind. You can call me Miss Gold." He could almost laugh at the idea, in fact, he almost did laugh. You brought yourself to look at him, your eyes stern with poorly hidden dismay. "And if I was?"

It made sense. No husband, no suitor, no time for one anyway. His lip lifted very slightly in the corner, and it felt like he was laughing at you. "The proper phrasing is 'and if you are?'" He leaned in, taunting you. "Because you are, Y/N."

You huffed to keep your eyes from fluttering at the effect he had on you. "How do you know?" you asked, doing your best not to sound as upset as you were. Your best was very poor.

He breathed a silent chuckle. "Because if I say the word 'sex'..."

You licked your lips and shifted your weight to your other leg, realising your mistake as soon as you made it but not showing it. You glanced away from him, and that was when you showed the realisation of your second mistake.

He pointed at you, ever amused. "You do that."

You thought for a moment over a way to say your next words without confessing anything—even if you knew it would be rendered unnecessary, as he seemed to read you like an open book.

"What if I did want to see what would happen?"

He inclined his head, lifting a brow. A small huff of a breath made up a tiny chuckle at your words. "Look at you," he said. "A good girl so bored she wants a go with a gangster."

You shrugged a shoulder. "All my family's gangsters and gypsies. It's in my blood."

He stared at you, cold and frozen like a statue. You stared back, gaze darting from eye to eye.

"In your blood," he muttered to himself.

You had no time to process what happened next. All you felt was his hand on the back of your neck and then your cheek against the cold wood of his desk. You groaned at the suddenness of it, stunning you completely—especially when his body pressed against the back of yours, crushing you against the desk and keeping you there.

Your breath was erratic, your pulse loud in your ears. Everything had happened so quickly, you were still catching up. The only thing that grounded you was the cold shock of something against the back of your head and the cock of a gun in your ears.

It was all suddenly very real—the anticipation, the suspense. You held your breath.

"Maybe I lied," he rasped in your ear, his voice just as dangerous as his gun to your head. "Maybe I want to see what's in your blood instead, eh?"

Your lips parted as shallow breaths passed between them, loud in your ears but likely nearly silent to him. You swallowed hard, frightened and exhilarated. "You're not going to kill me, Mr. Shelby."

"Oh, yeah? Why is that?" He seemed to press the gun even closer, trying to scare you some more. But you were a Gold, and guns to heads were not as effective to you as it might have been to someone else from a family that wasn't yours.

"Because you want to see what will happen."

Surprised by your answer, he scoffed. "Maybe you are a whore." He pushed his hips harder into you, thus pushing you harder against the desk. The edge of the wood cut into your thighs, aching and proving very uncomfortable. A strained breath grunted from you.

You smiled slyly, looking back at him as best you could. "Which is it?" you chuckled, "Whore or virgin?"

He took pause, shaking his head as he uncocked the gun. "No," he chuckled darkly. "Just a twisted little girl who gets off to guns at her head."

Your smirk dropped, amusement gone at his words. You furrow your brow, thoroughly upset that he would accuse you of something so crude. "I don't."

"No?" he asked before leaning in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and making you shiver. "Then why are you so wet?"

You stilled. You hadn't realised it until he said it, the wetness between your thighs, the arousal hiding beneath your thundering pulse. That tingling sensation of simmering lust was now weighing down on you like an anvil, a terrible sentence you wanted to escape but found yourself physically incapable of. Your legs trembled, but you couldn't tell if it was from the ice or the fire rushing through your veins. God forbid it be both.

Your silence made him smirk against your ear. "You really are," he scoffed again. "That was just a guess, sweetheart."

You huffed, doing everything you could to avoid clenching your thighs. With how close he was to you, his body pressed against you so tightly, he'd surely feel it. The shame was thick enough as it was.

"Fuck you," you spat.

He was not fazed by your aggression. "I intend to."

With a sudden burst of defiance, you pushed yourself up from the desk, turning around to face him. Your faces were so close, breathing in each other's scent as the both of you refused to back down. You heard him uncock his gun, tossing it onto the table behind you without breaking eye contact.

"This isn't the first time I've had a gun to my head, nor will it be the last," you told him. "And it's definitely not the first time a man's expressed his desire to fuck me."

"But it's the first time he's been able to, eh? Because before you had Daddy's protection." His hand landed on your waist, roughly pulling you toward him so your bodies were touching. It was useless to try to hide to fluster he put you in, but you did your best anyway. His voice was nearly a growl. "Well, where is he now?"

You shook your head, breathing shallow breaths. "I don't need his protection."

His smirk was small and taunting as he stared at you, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

"You do from me."

His lips crashed down upon yours as he pulled you close. Your surprised gasp was cut off, silenced by his harsh kiss. The feeling was foreign but not entirely unwelcome. Even as the force of his lips had his teeth smashing yours, cutting into the top of your own lip and greeting you with the taste of blood, you welcomed it.

You kissed back, moving your lips with his and following his lead but doing no more than that. Even if you had already compromised yourself, it would help not to encourage him.

When he pulled away from you, you chased his lips and felt the shame of it hot on your cheeks. He smiled at your eagerness, even chuckled at your breathlessness as he shook his head.

"My, my," he goaded. "You really do want this, you twisted little whore."

You shivered at his words and still denied. "And if I don't?" you countered, practically staring at his pink lips and proving him right.

He shook his head. "You should've walked out that door."

He kissed you again, silencing you once more until his lips had a moan clawing up your throat. He placed a hand on your chest, pulling you forward just a slight from turning you in one arm and shoving you back.

You stumbled backward, catching your footing again as you stared at him between the long distance he had put between the both of you. It surprised you and now you were trying to put your mind back in order, as though it hadn't been scrambled enough from his kiss.

"If you want to go so badly, prove it to me." He pointed to the door, urging you to leave with dark eyes and darker words. "Run. Run away, before I catch you."

You stared at him, catching your breath and contemplating. He was giving you one last chance for an out, one last chance to turn away and forget about tonight.

But you could never forget what happened here, especially not now, and not ever. Staring back at his dangerous eyes, you made your choice, knowing there was no turning back.

So you would prove that you wanted to stay as you trudged the distance between you and closed it with your lips on his, addicted to the taste of him—the taste of danger and intrigue and all things twisted in the world.

His hand cupped the back of your head as he opted to devour you, allowing your fingers to work at the buttons of his vest to remove it. You gasped into his mouth and made your decision before your inexperience could talk you out of it, separating from his lips only to kneel down before him with your eyes locked on his.

Amazed by your initiative, he encouraged you by leaning his hips out as you worked at his belt. You fumbled for a moment too long before you finally got his trousers open, finally reaching what you were aiming for as you pulled him from his underwear.

You stared wide-eyed at him as you took in the sight of his cock, the tip flushed red and the vein along the underside pulsing with his well-disguised lust. You looked up at him, finding him staring back down at you with those cold, dark eyes.

"Well, go on then," he mumbled as you continued to stare, conflicted between different courses of action.

Your body heat seemed to rise at the realisation that you were staring like a fool. You swallowed thickly, reaching a hand up and wrapping it gently around him, gliding your thumb along his tip and feeling a little more confident when his unyielding eyes fluttered. You continued on, rubbing your thumb at the head of him before stroking your fist along the length of him, up and down in a steady rhythm as you navigated what he liked and didn't like.

One of his hands cupped the back of your neck, urging you forward as your face pressed into his hips with the warmth of his cock on your cheek. Slowly, you kissed it, your lips gliding along the length as you took in the unfamiliar sensation. You slipped your tongue through your lips, licking along the side until you reached his flushed tip. Kissing the slit at the head of his cock, the bead of pre-cum there spread over your lips as you darted your tongue out to lick it.

You opened your mouth at the taste, setting his tip on your tongue and shivering at the feeling as you closed your lips around it. You built yourself up for it as you felt his heavy stare at the top of your head, bobbing your head slowly back and forth as you took the smallest bit more with each comeback. As he reached the back of your tongue, that tickling feeling in your throat began to tease you before the threat of gagging became too much to try to pass through.

By now, his cock was glistening with your saliva. As you looked up at him with eyes beginning to tear from your efforts, he stared back, lost in the pathetically illusioned look on your face. "You can't be done already," he said, his fingers tangling in your hair.

You spoke breathlessly, "Tommy–"

"No," he shook his head. "Not Tommy. You call me 'sir' while you're sat there on your knees with my cock in your mouth. You understand?"

You took in his authority, deciding whether or not you would listen. You began to scoff, "I'm not–"

"You will," he said finally, giving you that look that demanded respect. You knew, staring at him now, that he held the key to your pleasure. If you wanted to feel good, you would have to obey. As much as that annoyed you, it thrilled you all the same as he continued to look down on you like he was.

Your jaw ached with resentment, but you knew it was a front, you fighting the submission you were not meant to have. But you wanted it. You wanted him to break you down to some common whore, to strip you of your importance as a Gold and turn you into his plaything. But it was so firmly embedded, you would just have to keep fighting against it.

But that didn't matter right now, not with you on your knees with his cock in your hand.

"I can't do it…sir," you replied.

He raised a brow. "Can't do what?"

He was taunting you, insulting you by trying to make you say something you didn't want to say. It sat on your tongue like venom. Admitting what you classified as "it" felt like a new kind of torture.

"What is it you can't do, eh?" he questioned, even smirking at you like he knew he held all the cards. Because he did.

"I can't…" you swallowed thickly, bowing your head.

"No, no," he tsked, lifting your head with his hand in your hair to force you to look at him. And he wasn't lying before—he wouldn't be gentle. "Look at me and tell me what you can't do."

You huffed, speaking in a squeak of a voice. "Can't… take it all."

"What was that?"

"I can't take it all," you repeated, not yelling but not whispering either.

He smiled at you then, an evil, nasty smile that you wanted to wipe from his face. "That's all?" he questioned, laughing when you broke his eye contact. "Well, sure you can. Let me show you."

The exchange was promptly ended as his hand in your hair guided your head back to him as you took his cock in your mouth again, and he pushed you down, inch by inch, back onto him. You felt his tip pushing into your mouth, deeper and deeper on your tongue until he brushed the back of your throat. You gagged around him, feeling the sensations of the invasion rushing down your spine, resting in your belly and tingling all over.

As your nose brushed against his pelvic bone, your eyes welled up as tears spilled over your cheeks. He shushed you as you gagged on his cock, your throat adjusting around the intrusion. His hips bucked a couple of times, pushing his cock further until he could go no deeper. When he pulled out, you took as much air into your burning lungs as possible before you were interrupted by a few coughs.

As much as you wanted to slap him for the assault on your throat, one look at the pleasure on his face calmed the fire of frustration and fed the ache of arousal between your legs.

"Don't– do that again," you huffed, still catching your breath as you leaned forward on your knees to take him into your hot mouth again. You didn't go nearly as far again as you licked along his length, suckling around his cock and laving your tongue along his tip and the vein on the underside.

"The hell I won't," he mumbled, not the biggest fan of your telling him what to do but not necessarily put off by the idea. His hand remained a tangled mess in your hair as you continued to suck and lick and kiss.

You weren't expecting it when he pushed you down the second time, but at least you knew what to expect as you shut your eyes tight and took it, accepting the twisted pleasure that blossomed in your belly until he pulled out of your mouth again, keeping you back as he groaned.

You wiped your mouth off, staring at him with wet eyes and breathing through an open mouth. A deep breath exhaled from his lungs as he hoisted you to your feet, searching out your lips to bring you into another kiss. He turned you both around and pressed your back into his desk as he continued to kiss you roughly, pushing you back until you collapsed on the dark wood.

You gasped in surprise but barely had time to process as his lips continued to attack yours. His hands grasped the neckline of your dress, encouraging shivers down your spine. When he suddenly ripped and ripped at your clothes tearing them off you like a beast, you gasped and watched him turn your dress to rags.

It wasn't long before you were bare in front of him, save for the pantyhose hiding nothing from him. Then those were gone, too. Your hands instinctively flew to your body, trying to cover yourself up. There was really no reason for modesty, not now that you had already seen his cock and had it shoved down your throat, but this was entirely new and you would have rather liked a warning beforehand.

"Don't cover yourself now," he said as he entwined his hands with your own and pulled them away, spreading you out to see every inch of you with those hungry eyes. Your body trembled with the feeling of his eyes on your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, whimpering quietly at the mix of emotions ruling you.

Where some would take pity, Tommy just smiled darkly and tsked gently as he leaned forward and began kissing your neck. Your mouth fell open as your eyes fluttered to see him. A slight moan caught in your throat escaped at the sensation of lips to skin and your hands struggled where he restrained them, wanting to touch him again.

His kisses were not so patient after a moment as teeth began to scrape skin, sucking and nibbling on flesh in order to mark uncharted territory. The pleasure it gave him to know that no man had ever done this to you before was intense, driving him crazy with lust, a desire to claim you as his hips cant into your own, pushing you further into the desk and otherwise hurting you—if you had not been so preoccupied with his kiss.

You moaned into the air when his hand tightened around your thigh, squeezing roughly as he groped and kneaded the flesh. His other hand busied itself around your throat and tilted your head off to the side, sitting securely there but not quite squeezing the same. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist nonetheless, though you didn’t know whether you were trying to make him stop or keeping his hand there, wrapped around your throat and effectively putting him in charge.

The hand on your thigh travelled up, smoothing along your skin until he reached your hip. It never stayed there, moving back down as his fingers brushed over your exposed cunt. Your breath stopped in your throat when you felt his fingers ghosting over your lips and gasped when you felt his middle finger slip between them before biting down hard on your lip in an attempt to silence yourself.

His lips brushed your ear as he spoke in his low tones. “You like being touched by me? Eh?” A whimper left your throat when his finger pressed into you, pushing past your folds and into the warm, wet feeling inside of you. You clenched around it, the feeling foreign and but so good. "You're practically a whore now. I did buy ya after all—cost me a penny."

Your legs trembled as he stretched you out around his finger, a second playing at your pussy before carefully joining the other. "A penny?" you stuttered. "I personally think I'd be worth at least two."

"Well, let's see then," he said, lifting his brows as he pulled his finger out of you.

You whimpered, granting him an annoyed expression at the absence of his touch so soon. "See what?"

"If you taste good enough for two pennies."

You stared at him as his lips kissed your chest, sucking on your nipples on the way down and continuing on down to your thighs. A shocked yelp came from you when he bared his teeth around a chunk of flesh, only soothed when he kissed over it.

He gripped your thighs and pulled them over his shoulders, taking your hips in his hands and pushing himself up so your body was nearly folded in half. He didn't stall you at all as he buried his head between your thighs, licking and sucking on your folds as he shoved his tongue between them.

Your head flew backward, banging against the table. You hardly noticed, even with the full throb at the back of your head, the slight dizziness in your brain. Your hands flew to his hair, tangling in dark strands and tugging him forward. His tongue was just as skilled here, commanding your body to his every will, as it was during his speeches while he commanded armies of men to join in his cause or to intimidate against their own.

One hand left your hip to play with your cunt, toying with your clit. He pushed two fingers into your fluttering hole, swirling his tongue around your clit as you moaned for him to continue.

"Fuck," you mewled, closing your legs around his head and digging your heels into his back. He didn't seem to care, not until you messed up. "Please don't stop, Tommy."

But he did. His fingers and tongue retreated as he pulled back, straightening his back and letting one leg fall from his shoulder, though he kept the other firmly held to his chest.

You whined, looking at him with shallow breath. You watched him lick his kiss-swollen lips as he stared at you with black eyes. The emotions in your belly swirled between lust and frustration and fear and intrigue. He was so intimidating and you wanted more. You wanted him to keep kissing you, to keep dragging his tongue along your wet pussy. But you also wanted him to push you into the floor and take you from behind, his hips slapping into you, his hand planting your cheek against the cold floor, his mouth whispering filthy things in your ear.

"Please," you whimpered, too desperate to care about how pathetic you sounded.

He lifted a brow, saying nothing and staring. When you tried to sit up to reach his face, he pressed a hand into your chest and pushed you down roughly, leaning forward himself to paralyse you with his dangerous glare. Even with his hand on your chest, you tried to sit up still to kiss his pretty lips but he wouldn't let you. Your thigh ached from the position.

"Please," you whispered again, a broken moan as the lack of pleasure became too much, welling in your chest and making your body tremble.

He tilted his head.

You let out a shaky breath, moving your free leg outward to spread yourself even wider for him. "Please, sir," you concede. "Please keep going. I want it."

He didn't continue. His eyes bore into yours and you shuddered. With a gentle huff, you handed over the last of your dignity. "Please, sir, I need it."

He lingered there for a moment longer before smirking. You thought he was going to kiss you when he leaned forward, but instead he took your bottom lip between his teeth and but down before returning to his previous position between your legs.

He began again with the same intensity, devouring you as though you were his last meal. You whimpered and moaned and cried from the pleasure he forced into you. As he shoved his fingers into you, spreading them apart and thus stretching you wider, suckling on your clit and kneading it with his tongue, a coil tightened in your belly as everything seemed to follow.

Your moans built to whining breaths—too high and pitchy to be real—but genuine nonetheless. He didn't let up or slow down, drunk on the taste of you and too far gone to stop just yet, not without his reward.

The warm, wet feeling of his mouth became too much, the suckling of his lips even moreso. You squeezed your eyes tight, arching your back as a loud moan ripped from your throat. Your breath was rough and forceful as it rasped in and out of your throat, and your hands clenching in his hair tugged and tugged as his tongue continued to work. The pleasure took siege of your body, attacking every nerve ending until you were naught but a pile of flesh and blood and bone.

The high slowly descended to bring you back to Tommy Shelby's study, his tongue at your pussy a distant sensation in the back of your mind before it burnt with oversensitivity. You tugged at his hair, grunting as you pulled his head away to catch your breath.

His chin glistened and his lips were plump with blood as he stared at your recuperating body. He pulled his fingers from your fluttering pussy, taking them between his lips to taste you.

"Too much?" he asked, not in any way sensitive as he stared. "What, it feels too good, it hurts?" All you could do was nod. He breathed a laugh. "Have you ever touched yourself before, love?"

You didn't have it in you to be shy as you shook your head. He didn't take that answer this time—not humiliating enough, you supposed.

"Eh?" he urged, lightly smacking your arse to get a proper answer.

You grunted, shaking your head. "No, sir."

"That's your first time cumming then," he said more than asked, watching your dazed eyes slowly return to the dull bite of their natural rebellion—though he knew he broke you down enough for it to be too weak to matter.

He still awaited an answer. "Yes, sir," you obliged.

"Well, congratulations," he said. "Most men don't know how to please, so most women don't get to cum."

You disregarded his comment, still stuck on the aftershocks of pleasure as your eyes wandered the room. You whimpered when he licked you again, suckling around your clit and earning a jerk from your body.

He sat up, moving your legs off his shoulders like they were nothing important to him. He wrapped a hand at the base of your skull and pulled you up to sit. "Come here," he said, bringing you close to his face. "Have a taste."

He pulled you forward and crashed his lips against yours, too rough but just as amazing as all the rough ones he'd given before. The taste of you was strange but addictive as you came back for more, even as he pulled you away.

Tommy backed away from you, leaving you bare and hot on the desk. His hair was a mess, and he licked his lips again. He gestured toward you. "Stand up." You did as you were told, steadying yourself on unsteady feet. "Turn around."

As you obeyed, he came up behind you and pushed you onto the desk again, just as he'd done before. You grunted at the impact and clenched your thighs at the effect it had on you. You hated how good it made you feel, his treating you so roughly, without a care to just how rough. You hated even more how much rougher you wanted him to be.

Your prayers may have been met with extremity when you felt his gun to your head again as he spoke into your ear.

"I could kill you," he considered, pressing the gun further.

Your heart kicked up, and the adrenaline took over as his unwavering voice promised your demise. You held back your moan and responded, "But you won't."

"Why not?"

"You need me," you insisted. He laughed. "It's true. You kill me, well I'm Daddy's favourite. There'll be war. You make me go, I'll just keep coming back to finish it. You fuck me now, your wager is fulfilled and you get to fuck a virgin. What man doesn't want that, eh?"

Oh, you were good. Even if he was going to kill you, your words were enough to persuade him otherwise. He pressed the gun into your temple and the clicking sound of him clocking it reverberated in your ear. You moaned a long, deep moan as you clenched your thighs tightly together.

He smiled, laughing quietly to himself as he shook his head. "A proper whore, you are."

"Then fuck me, sir. That's the purpose of a whore, isn't it?" You gripped the edge of the table when he pushed his hips into you, aching that same spot on your thighs from before and making your lust all the worse.

He lingered, the cold barrel cocked and ready. You held your breath and awaited his decision before he removed it from your head. You sighed gently, missing his warmth when he stepped away from you.

Your hips jolted when the cold tip of his gun pressed to your pussy, spreading your lips apart to see you still wet for him. With the gun still cocked, your heart pounded against your ribcage and you felt the anxiety building deliciously in your body. He hummed, considering something in his head. You stayed as still as possible, certain your breath was loud as you wondered what he was thinking.

You heard him kneel, hyperaware of every sound he made behind you. His hand nudged the other side before he was leaning forward to taste you again.

You whimpered. "You're a dirty whore for being this wet," he said. You bit down on your lip.

He stood again and bent himself over your body. "You got my gun dirty," he tutted, shaking his head like he was scolding you as he shoved the barrel in your face. You could see your arousal gleaming off of it, shaking at the sight of it so close. "Clean it up."

You didn't move, paralyzed by fear. He didn't like that. "Clean. It. Up."

You let out a wavering breath, "Yes, sir." You leaned forward slowly, not even certain you were actually moving, and stuck your tongue out the slightest bit. You shut your eyes, making contact with the gun and a tiny whine slipped.

He watched you do as you were told, licking your slick from his gun and loving every second. A tear slipped down your cheek, slow and beautiful. He kissed it from your skin as you cleaned the gun.

When he deemed that you'd done well enough, he uncocked it and put it away. Your body relaxed, all of the pent up energy inside of you calming a slight as the threat of so much danger lifted from you.

He slipped his hand around your throat and leaned into your ear again. "Such a good girl, crying for me" he husked in your ear. "I'm gonna make you scream."

You felt the head of his cock push between your folds, coating himself in your slick, and there was plenty to go around. He straightened his spine as he took a hold of your hips, just as rough as you were expecting, before he shoved his cock into you. You moaned loudly as the harsh drag of his cock invaded your cunt, stretching you out around him.

"Fuck," you cried, gripping the desk harder. He held you steady as he fucked into your tight pussy, snapping his hips in and out of you without sparing a second for you to adjust. The slick you'd gathered would have to do.

You clenched down on him, thighs aching and trembling and becoming too much already as the tears built in your eyes.

Chants and cries of "yes" and "more" and "harder" spilled from your mouth and into the air, a loud and filthy cacophony of blasphemous praise. He held you down and he held you still, dominating your body as your new god as he ruined you for any man.

"You want more? Sure you do, so desperate for a fuck," he taunted, his harsh words accompany the harsh smacks of his hips. It was loud and continuous and it felt so good. "Such a dirty little thing, filthy and twisted. You like having a gun to your head, you like me being mean to ya. Where's all that pride gone, eh?"

The tears streamed down your face, decorating you in a way that Tommy could only describe as "beautiful".

"That's right. Cry for me, little whore," he grunted.

You did. Your thighs hurt and your throat is sore and your fingers ache from grasping the desk so hard, but you cried for him and the overwhelming pleasure, a depraved sound he fed from.

One of his hands left your hip to toy with your clit as he pressed his chest to your back. He bit the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, cruel and uncaring, before kissing the spot like an absent-minded apology. Your voice was raspy as he drew quick circles at your clit, chasing your next high as though it were unattainable.

And who knows? With Tommy, it might be.

"More," you begged, despite the loss of breath in your lungs, despite the haze of your mind. You chased the pleasure, pleading for it to swallow you whole as you took all that he gave you. "Please, sir, more." He cursed under his breath.

That crashing high from before curled in your belly again, hot and searing, like molten lava. You shuddered when it erupted, squeezing around his cock as you nearly sobbed. "Ahh, fuck!" Your head went fuzzy at the sensations as you gushed around him, sucking him in tighter.

Tommy grunted, his hips stilling before he pulled out of you. You thought he was done, but he seemed far from it as he wrapped his arm around your midsection, lifting you from the table and turning. You thought he was heading for the sofa, instead he lowered you to the ground on your hands and knees, which shook with the aftershocks of an orgasm you were still recovering from.

He pressed down on your back, pushing you onto the floor so your hips were angled up. He grasped your waist, smacking your arse once and earning a cut-off shriek.

He steadied you before burying his cock in you once more, sighing from the warmth your body provided. You whimpered at the feeling so fresh after cumming, slowly adjusting to the pleasure as he fucked into you with the insistence of a starved man.

Once you settled into it again, you moaned into the sensitivity, easing the rock of his hips rubbing you against the floor with your palms planted on the wood. It was cold and hard but the way his cock brushed in and out of you was so electric that you didn't care.

"There we are," he said, guiding your hips quickly as he pulled you in against him. "Fucked on the ground where you belong. Don't you agree?"

You struggled with nodding—though you knew he wouldn't accept it anyway. "Yes, s– Ah!– sir." He rutted into you, his thrusts almost animalistic, and he kept on.

He leaned forward, bracing one hand next to your head as you reached out to grab it. His breath was loud in your ear, full of broken moans disguised as heavy grunts.

"Good," mewled. "Feels good, sir."

"Yeah?" he asked, a particularly harsh slap making you whimper. "You want more, you pathetic whore?"

"Please, sir."

"So polite all of a sudden," he spoke breathlessly.

When he pulled out of you again, you thought you'd scream. But he eased you up to flip you onto your back, standing on his knees and staring down on you. You watched him unbutton his shirt, undoing each button one by one until he was able to shed it from his arms. You stared at the bare skin of his chest, taking in his tattoos, his muscles, the light patch of hair.

Grabbing you by your legs, he pulled you into his lap after leaning back. He set your legs over his shoulders once more, guiding himself back into you before he leaned forward. Your legs ached from being put in this position so much—but hell if you cared, because when he seated himself fully inside of you, the moan you left out was deep and guttural. He reached so much deeper than before, brushing a spot inside of you that set your body ablaze.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close as his hips snapped into yours. His thrusts were shorter in this position, grinding into you and brushing that spot over and over and over again. You whined and moaned through every moment of it, your eyes tearing up and the tension in your muscles building.

Your hand splayed out over his cheek as you tilted his head toward your face, wanting to watch him as he fucked into you. His eyes gazed at you, the intimidation from before not quite as cruel as it melted into the intimacy of the moment. His forehead pressed against yours and you breathed in each other's air as he shoved your hips together.

The sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you were intoxicating, filling the air with a filthy cadence that mixed with the carnal pleas on your tongue and the raucous groans on his.

"Look at you," he said, planting his hand next to your head once more as the other held your hips up for the right angle. "So desperate, pathetically beautiful."

You gave him a drunk smile, looking between his eyes and lips. "You think… I'm beautiful?"

He rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless, shutting you up with a rough thrust. Your head fell back and exposed your neck, which he graciously nipped between his teeth.

You yelped when the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit again, sinking into a breathy moan as you looked between your bodies to see it. You looked back up at Tommy, allowing him to do as he pleased with your body, succumbing to his touch.

"Fuck," you breathed, clenching around him at the feeling of your aching clit being stimulated again. You weren't sure you could cum again, but to hell if you weren't going to try.

Your arms wrapped around his back as your nails took root in his shoulders, scraping down his flesh to find purchase for the overwhelming passion. The sound Tommy made was nearly a moan, which he covered with a hiss as he clenched his teeth.

You kissed him, lips bruising, teeth clicking, tongues flicking as you drank the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum again, sir."

He raised his brows, though his rhythm was wearing. "Oh, you think so, do you?"

You corrected yourself, kissing him again to add in your favour. "Please, sir, can I cum again?"

His grin was almost sinister as he regarded you. You were learning, and fast. His unsteady hips rocked you back and forth on the ground, and his breath was timed with each little thrust. You could tell he was going to lose it, so close to joining you as you encouraged him by clenching and squeezing, sucking him into your cunt and getting him addicted to it.

"Fuck, yes. Go on and cum for me, sweetheart," he groaned, giving you the permission you needed as the pleasure washed over you like a wave of fire.

Your back arched, your weak moan stuttered in your throat, and you couldn't help but utter his name as the ecstasy shook you. Your cunt fluttered around him, and your moan continued until it melted to helpless little whimpers which then dissolved into each breath.

Tommy buried his face in the crook of your neck when he came after you, growling in your ear and his muscles tensed under your hands. His hips rutted into you, sinking in nice and deep and putting you in a position that would have been fairly uncomfortable, had you not been so devoured by his deep fucking that you hardly even noticed. All you could feel was the pressure of his body on yours and the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, your cunt so tight around his cock that you milked every drop.

Slowly, his muscles loosened and his grip on your hip let up. He sighed, a long, deep sigh that released the rest of his tension as he began to straighten his back again. You stopped him, wrapping your hand around the back of his head and pulling him down for one more kiss. This one was so soft, a slow kiss that rendered your body useless. Everything was limp and lazy as the tender kiss changed the entire dynamic of the night.

It lasted longer than it properly should have as you both came in for more, treasuring it, cherishing it, until it had to come to its imminent end. He pulled away from you, staring at your face for a moment longer before he sat up, pulling out of you and making you shudder from the sudden loss and the even more sudden chill.

You stayed on the floor as he walked toward his desk and tucked himself back into his underwear. Your eyelids were heavy, drooping down as you lacked the strength to stand. As Tommy picked up his case of cigarettes, he looked at you over his shoulder, still laying there. Your legs were still spread out, your pussy dripping with both your cum on display and your arms framing your head. You'd passed out.

Tommy rubbed his cigarette between his lips before he lit it. His eyes never left you as he took the first puff before discarding the light and walking over to you. He knelt, tucking his hand under you to take you into his arms and set you on the sofa. He readjusted your body, your legs closed and one of your arms covering your chest.

He stood there a moment. You looked peaceful as you slept—absolutely debauched with your messy hair, tear-stricken cheeks, and swollen lips—but peaceful. Your face nuzzled into the cushion, and your lips twitched with whatever was going on in your head.

It took more than he would like to admit not to brush the apple of your cheek as he cleared his throat quietly. He picked up his disregarded shirt and draped it over your shoulders before choosing to walk back to his desk. He sat down and sifted through some files he pulled from a drawer to busy himself.

He didn't keep track of how long you slept or how long he sat there. He hadn't realised when he dozed off, tired out from you and from work.

You stirred from your place on the couch, opening your eyes and wondering why the floor was so soft. It took a moment to remember where you were, why you were naked, and why your thighs were so sticky.

Taking a deep breath in, a familiar scent filled your nose as you noticed the shirt over your body. You sat up slowly, pulling it to your chest and taking another deep breath. The scent made you dizzy, and you slipped it over your arms. The shirt was big on you, hanging low as you pulled it closed around your body.

Your body ached as you moved to stand, running a hand through your hair and stretching your sore limbs. Why were you so sore?

You took two steps, examining the floor and taking in all the clothes—scraps and fully intact—laying there, before you looked up and saw him. Tommy was passed out at his desk, bracing his face on his arms as he slept.

The events of that night flooded into your mind all at once and suddenly, everything made sense. You looked down at your dress of scraps again with a frown as you picked it up, rolling your eyes before using it to wipe away the cum glueing your legs together and discarding it back to the floor.

You padded over to Tommy, glancing over him and silently making your way to the window to peek behind the curtains. It was still dark out, so you hadn't slept long.

You returned to Tommy, lifting up his half-burnt cigarette and putting it out properly in the ashtray it was sitting in. You stared at him, watching him sleep.

You never thought the devil himself could ever look so peaceful.

You couldn't help yourself—you reached out and brushed some of his hair from his face. You just wanted to see him a little clearer. In doing so, he woke. It wasn't a slow waking like yours. His was fast, nearly startled as his eyes opened and his sharp inhale shocked his senses. Before he could jolt up to his feet, his blue eyes found you and his dark brows almost convinced you that he despised you as he granted you a hard stare.

But his expression shifted at the sight of you, after he'd properly taken you in and recognized you. He blinked away and sighed, sitting up slowly and leaning back in his chair. He tilted his head as he looked you up and down before reaching for his case of cigarettes again.

He picked one out, rubbed it between his lips, and lit it up in silence. And, in silence, you took it from between his lips and set it between your own. He stared at you, lips parted and amused—though, you had to look closely to notice.

"Apologise."

You stared at him with a raised brow, blowing out a billowing breath of smoke. He was surprised you smoke.

He looked you up and down before sighing and leaning back again. "Alright, I'll bite," he said. "What for?"

You took another deep breath before moving it again, blowing it out before gesturing toward him with his cigarette. "You called me pathetic."

"You are pathetic."

"And you called me a whore."

"You are a whore."

"You called me a pathetic whore."

He opened his arms, shrugging as he watched you. You raised a brow and blew out some more smoke.

"Apologise."

You weren't harsh as you said it, and you didn't look particularly hurt. In fact, you looked like a fucking angel dressed in his shirt, smoking his cigarette, and demanding he apologise for something you so obviously enjoyed.

He gave in, smiling as he rolled his eyes. "I apologise for calling you a pathetic whore…even if you are a pathetic whore."

You watched him for a moment, considering whether you'd accept his apology.

"I also want you to apologise for pointing a gun at me. Twice. And then touching my fucking cunt with it."

"No." He said it so simply, so finally. There was no way you'd get him to budge. "You liked it too much."

You thought about that and shrugged. Fair enough.

"I also–"

"Shut up and come here," he said, turning toward you with his open legs and arms.

You smiled and stepped between them, letting him take hold of your waist—even if you were still sensitive there because you didn't want to give up the affection. You guided the cigarette back between his lips, your fingers pressing against them as you did. He smoked it before taking it out and staring at you, blowing the air out as he thought.

Tommy reached into his pocket, digging around to pull out a coin. He handed it to you, and you shook your head at him. "That's not funny," you mumbled, stifling a laugh.

"Congratulations, you're worth two pennies."

"Fuck you," you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I've already done that." You laughed again, shaking your head and ignoring the warmth in your belly.

You stared at him, rubbing the coin between your fingers as you toyed with it. He watched you think to yourself, biting your lip as your eyes so obviously flicked between his eyes and lips.

"Thank you, Tommy," you told him softly. "I needed this."

His smile faltered slightly as he continued to watch you. He sighed, unaware of his thumbs stroking patterns into your sides, "I didn't do it for you… but I'm happy to have helped."

You chuckled weakly, half-hearted. Looking down at the penny, you smiled slowly and held it up. "How about a wager?" His subtle amusement encouraged you.

"If it's heads…you get me a new dress because you ripped mine to shreds."

He let out a small scoff, shaking his head gently.

"And if it's tails…" you smiled. You lifted your leg, slipping into his lap as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His hands found your arse, pulling you forward so your bodies were flush against each other. Your eyes fluttered as his cock brushed your pussy, already exciting you for the probable future. You focused on him again, "...you fuck me again—this time naked."

He smiled and nodded his head. "Toss the coin, Miss Gold."

You licked your lips as you readied it between your thumb and finger. Your eyes locked for a moment between moments, drinking each other like forbidden wine. You flipped the coin into the air, watching as it twirled and twirled and twirled. The coin made its descent, you caught it, and you took a moment to close your eyes and hope before you let it show.

You couldn't hide your elation as you picked up the coin and showed him. "Congratulations, Mr. Shelby," you smiled. "Tails."

"A deal's a deal." His hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he pulled you in, "I would've fucked you otherwise." He kissed you in a mix of the roughness and sweet tenderness from earlier.

Between breaks, you sighed heavily. "Thank God because I need you," you confessed, kissing him again.

You undid his pants once more, this time pushing them down his legs and finally ridding him of them. He let you wear his shirt, refraining from admitting just how much he liked seeing you wear it.

The kiss was a mess as you devoured one another. He rocked your hips in his lap and you moaned at the pressure as his cock spread your lips apart. "Fuck, this is gonna be a long night," you hummed.

"Shut up and ride my cock," he demanded, not nearly as harsh as before but just as breathless as you now.

You smiled. "Yes, sir."

Peaky Blinders taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time​ @goblinjnr Tag yourself here...

[cosmosis]

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - surprise visit modern au!

an unfamiliar secretary won’t let you into the building to visit your husband, Miguel, at his office

Visiting your husband at work may as well be the best way for you to spend your day off. He’s been working hard, his passion truly bursting at the seams when he talks to you about the latest improvement project he’s been working on for the past three weeks. 

You’re walking down the sidewalk in an outfit you knew would make Miguel go crazy, holding a nice bouquet of flowers in your arm. You decided men don’t get flowers enough, so you’re here to fill in that gap. He really deserves more than flowers anyway. 

With the badge embedded into your watch, you scan your wrist against the access monitor on the wall. The doors automatically open, and you feel a nice gust of air conditioning run into you. 

The office is very modern, clean, and sleek. All around you are advanced units of technology; a result of your husband’s successes. It smells the same it always has; clean, crisp, and slightly minty. As you walk through the doors, you’re greeted with the exact same things you always are; same lounge chairs, same grand elevator... 

Though, you don’t recognize the secretary at the desk. 

She’s blonde, red lipstick smeared onto her tight lips in an unwelcoming frown. A matching pearl set adorned over her crisp, dark blue blazer. 

Usually, you’d say hi to the secretary you knew, Lyla. You assume she got fired, which was a real shame, you love her sass. She was always so kind to you, saying hi with a smile, or offering to help guide you through the office and such. 

But instead, you walk right past the desk, digging through your memories to find how you managed to find Miguel’s main office last time. 

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?“

Her voice is just as snarky as you had imagined. 

“Visiting Miguel?“ You pause, your patience already growing extremely thin for the new secretary. You’d probably chat about this to Miguel later, maybe bat an eyelash or two to convince him about hiring someone different. 

“Nuh uh! Miguel O’Hara is busy right now, not open for any visitors at the moment.“ She replies, fixating her eyes on the large monitor in front of her. 

You pause for a moment, critically thinking things through for a moment. 

“Oh! I get it. M’am, you haven’t met me before, have you?“ You ask, trying your best to not crinkle the flowers in your hands. She raises a single eyebrow, glaring as if you insulted her mother. (Which, you might as well should do.)

“I’m Miguel’s spouse. He lets me visit him whenever, I even have my badge right here-“

She holds up a single manicured finger. 

“Nice try, but my charts right here say that Miguel is busy at the moment. Try another time, maybe send him a fan letter or something.“

Your blood starts to boil as the new secretary has a satisfied smirk on her face. 

Instead of choosing violence and risking your hair getting ruined, you opt for the better option. Glaring at the desk manager directly in the eye, you pull out your cellphone from your pocket, manually pressing the contact button for Miguel. You wait for the phone to dial, pressing the cellular to your ear whilst examining your own nails. 

And finally, he answers. 

“Hm? You need something, honey?“

“Miguel.“

Miguel on the other line, freezes to a halt. Now, he knows he’s in trouble. Carefully, he clears his throat. 

“What is it, sweetie?“

You take a deep breath. “Your... secretary isn’t letting me into the office. Will you fix that, please?”

Miguel pinches between his eyebrows, groaning. 

“Of course, hun. I’ll be down in a sec.“

“Thank you, Miguel.“

The call ends, but the secretary still stares at you like you’ve thrown up all over her salad. She almost looks like she’s going to laugh, which makes you even madder. 

Within literally a few seconds, the elevator whirs to a halt, the top light switching on with a chime. As expected, your husband walks through the sliding doors, clad in a crisp white dress shirt and office pants. He’s so undeniably gorgeous, you almost consider forgiving the secretary. 

But, you don’t. 

“Ah, Miguel, this p-“

“Shut your mouth for moment, would you?“

The woman is taken aback, red bursting onto her cheeks as her fake smile melts into a frown. Her mouth is left agape, watching as Miguel saunters over to you with a smile. 

“What happened?“ Miguel asks, his Office Face™ dissolving into a genuine smile. He slots his hands to your waist, silently peering at the flowers in your arms. 

“Well, I was going to come surprise you... but then she said that you were busy.” You reply, pouting. 

“Aww, baby, it’s okay.“ He smooches the top of your head. “The flowers are pretty. I’ll handle this.“

Miguel then swerves around, this time with his Office Face™ on. He keeps his hand glued to your side, each step of his getting louder and louder as he makes his way towards the desk. 

“Tiffany.“

Tiffany, in question, shudders, keeping her eyes glued to the floor while a shit-eating smirk finds its’ way onto your face. No remorse whatsoever. 

“From now, until tonight, please let my partner into the building whenever they like.“

“Yes, sir. Why until tonight?“ 

“Because I’m firing you from any future stand-in’s, or any sort of work in here for the matter.“

Miguel: 1 Tiffany: 0

Tiffany looks like she has so much she wants to say, so much that she could scream at this very moment... but instead, she stays silent. You can see a vein practically ready to burst at her temple, her jaw grinding her teeth in her mouth. 

“I will dismiss you at the end of the day, Tiffany. I expect you to cause no more trouble until then.“

Tiffany is left utterly speechless, her jaw left slightly agape. Miguel ushers you by your back towards the elevator, poking and prodding his finger at the flowers in your grasp. 

Automatically, the elevator doors smoothly slide open, and you both step inside. You stare at the glass view outside, watching as the two of you get higher and higher above the city.

“I even had my badge, and she didn’t let me.“ You frown, indulgently leaning into Miguel’s chest. 

“I’m sorry, hun. Lyla’s out sick for a bit, so she was the only substitute I could find for today.“

Apologetically, he rubs your back, secretly praying that you’d forget about the whole ordeal so you’d pay attention to him instead. 

“S’okay. Thank god Lyla wasn’t fired.“ You mumble, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“She’s annoying, but she does her job well.“ Miguel remarks, and you gasp, personally offended on behalf of your beloved Lyla. 

“No she’s not! She’s super nice, actually.“

“Whatever.” Miguel scoffs. “Kiss me.”

“No. You called Lyla annoying.” 

these oneshots have really skyrocketed my account! thank you guys so much for the positive feedback, i love loveee reading all the comments i get! please stay tuned for more!

- cosmosis <333

© 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔.

[bumblesimagines]

With Fire and Blood

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Unable to deal with his mother's indifference to his worries any longer, Jace turns his anger onto the dragonseeds

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, classism?, bastardphobia lmao, Jace is an angry lil hypocritical twink, suggestive content, era typical insults and such, spoilers for s2

All bro did was serve face and I cannot stop writing for him

~~~

Jace was well-aquatinted with the hot emotion that made his blood boil and hands curl into fists ready to swing at any moment.

The maesters claimed when he was born, he left his mother screaming and kicking wildly, nearly wriggling himself out of the maester and midwives' arms whilst they tried calming him enough to hand him off to his exhausted yet amused mother. He supposed it meant he'd always been short-tempered but he hardly found it to be his fault when he'd been brought into the world with looks that firmly branded him as Other. 

He'd been a child when it first dawned on him that there was a possibility he was not Laenor Velaryon's son, that neither of his little brothers were either. His mother never provided him with a full answer, only strained smiles and reassurances that he was a Targaryen.

Some nights, he'd stay up and stare at himself in the mirror, combing his fingers through his hair and imagining it was as silver as his uncles; poking at the area around his eyes and envisioning them to be lilac instead of mud brown. Jace tried ignoring it as best he could but the whispers and glances always tightened around him, reminding him he'd never be seen as anything but a bastard. 

Things grew easier in Dragonstone. Until the war broke and his mother took his idea of searching for kin to the filthy streets of King's Landing.

Truthfully, he nearly wept hot tears of anger when he first saw the army of bastards trekking into the castle. They were peasants, mongrels, filth who stole, lied, and betrayed for their own means, and they looked more like his family than he did. He despised it, despised the fact no one would ever question their parentage or blood when people would look puzzled or disgusted when they saw him.

It frightened him, too.

He'd grown uneasy when Rhaenyra fell with child soon after her marriage to Daemon, and the uneasiness grew when she bore him a little brother with those striking violet eyes and vibrant silver hair. A sister, he may have forgiven, but a brother? And one who looked more Targaryen than he did? Born to the power-seeking Daemon?

When four men stepped out from the blood and fire of the massacre with three dragons, Jace practically saw his future before his eyes; finding himself in his mother's spot, tearfully fighting against his own blood in desperate hope of claiming the birthright nobody believed to be his for the stain in his blood. He despised them, he decided. He'd already been distrustful of mere peasants so far below them entering the castle, but for those same mere peasants claiming dragons? 

That familiar flush of anger swept over him and he stared forward, his palms digging into the armrests below him. His mother had publicly chosen, right before him, to ride out with Addam of Hull over him, her own flesh and blood! Jace caught Baela's eye from across the table and she offered him a soft grimace followed by an empathic smile. 

"Well," One of the bastards broke the silence. Jace believed his name to be (Y/N), although he'd hardly been paying any attention when Rhaenyra brought the dragonseeds forth for everyone to become acquainted with. He only recalled the way his mother sucked in a sharp breath when the young man revealed himself to be the son of Daemon and a brothel worker. (Y/N) set his cup down on the table, swiping his tongue over his lips and rising. "I'm, uh, taking my leave, or whatever it is you're supposed to say." 

Baela blinked. "You have yet to finish your meal. You should finish." The softness in her voice made Jace's brows knit together. They were merely half-siblings through blood, not through any special means. A lady such as Baela had no need to speak so kindly to an unwanted pest from King's Landing.

"I have no desire to." (Y/N) responded, and Jace's fingers twitched when he left without bowing or acknowledging his prince. 

"More for me," Ulf said disgustingly through a mouthful of food, his hand scooping up the plate and scraping the remaining food onto his before he handed it off to a bewildered servant. Without his mother there, Jace allowed himself to scoff freely at the childish act, his eyes rolling as he cut into his meat and chewed on it.

By the time dinner ended and the dragonseeds slinked off to their newly given bedchambers, Jace still couldn't help but stew in his disappointment and bitter anger. He escorted Baela to her rooms, chewing her ear off with his complaints and growing insecurities on the way there, before bidding her a grumpy goodnight that she chuckled at.

Jace walked, or rather stomped, in the direction of his bedchambers but a figure standing in one of the balconies caught his eye, only fully capturing his attention when he noticed a dragon head peeking over the railing. Jace stopped and stared, marveling at the light gray coloring of the dragon, something akin to the glow of the moonlight. A soft, almost lavender color dusted the tips of the dragon's scales and horns and added to her beauty.

The Dragonkeepers claimed Chyrys had hatched from a clutch of eggs belonging to Silverwing just a year before his own dragon, Vermax, had hatched in his crib. After her failure and near-death at claiming Vermithor, Rhaena hoped the docile Chyrys would accept her as a rider, but the she-dragon refused to allow her on. Yet, she'd accepted a bastard as her rider. 

"Have you come to complain some more, Prince?" (Y/N)'s voice echoed in the silence of the night. His hand dragged over the snout of Chyrys, enticing a soft rumble of contentment from her. "I hear you've exchanged words with your dear mother over us." 

"You do not belong here." Jace told him before he could stop himself, the anger he'd tried desperately to entertain only in private moments spilling over. "You will never be one of us. You will never be a true Targaryen or a prince, no matter who your father is." He spat, lingering in the archway connecting the hallway. (Y/N)'s lips curled upward, and his amusement only made Jace's hands tremble with barely contained rage. How dare he laugh at a prince?

(Y/N) peered over his shoulder and retracted his hand from his dragon, the sound of rocks tumbling down the cliff toward the crashing waves below filling the air when Chyrys pushed herself away from the cliff and took off into the night sky. "You are aware that while my eyes may be (E/C), my hair is a color you'll only obtain when you've grown old and weary, no?" Jace's jaw clenched.

"Mind your tongue when you speak to me, you mongrel." Jace snarled, forgetting all about his desire to appease his mother by begrudgingly accepting the bastards' presence. It was unprincely of him to even be in the presence of someone of such low station, let alone bicker with one. His words struck his pride, however. "I am Rhaenyra Targaryen's son, I am her heir. You are the bastard of Daemon and the son of a whore."

He struck a nerve with the mention of his mother, he realized it when (Y/N)'s amused grin vanished into a scowl. His weak spot. "What? Are you not used to hearing the truth? I know your mother was a whore, and I am certain if it weren't for your silver hair, no one would believe you are the son of the late King's brother." Jace continued, eager to release his anger on someone deserving of it. 

"Just as no one believes you are the son of Ser Laenor Velaryon?" (Y/N)'s tone was edged with irritation, sharp enough to dip into Jace's gut painfully. He stepped forward toward him and Jace's hand instinctively flew to his side where his sword typically was, but for the sake of dinner, he'd left it in his bedchambers. Jace swallowed thickly when (Y/N) grew near, the smell of salt heavy on the bastard's skin from his time on the balcony. "Your brothers were never meant to rule Driftmark because your ancestral seat is in the very place Daemon Targaryen flew out to. You should have flown there first, treated with your family. I'm certain they would have welcomed you with such loving arms." 

"That is a vile accusation worthy of-"

"A vile accusation? Or the bitter truth you do not wish to hear?" (Y/N) arched a brow, the look of irritation he'd sported replaced with cruel amusement. He held eye contact as he stepped aside, his shoulder slamming into Jace's roughly enough to force the prince to stagger backward from the force, a hand raising to clutch it. Jace's features contorted. 

"You were born nothing, you will die nothing!" Jace called, his voice bouncing off the stone walls but (Y/N) paid him little to no heed, his indifference to Jace bringing him to his tipping point. 

A prisoner to the very anger that'd sent his true father away to his death, Jace's legs sprang into action and marched after him, his hands curling and uncurling. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, the flush of anger over his face, and the aching desire to dig his hands into something until it broke. His palm slammed against the door leading into (Y/N)'s bedchambers, throwing it open enough for Jace to step through before he tossed it shut, the wood vibrating from the force. 

"Someone ought to teach you animals some manners." Jace hissed when (Y/N) faced him, the dragonseed blatantly rolling his eyes at him and staring at him like an exasperated parent would their troublesome child. He stepped right up to him, their chest and noses bumping together from the proximity but Jace's hands remained pinned to his sides. His mother would surely scold him for laying a hand on him, and he refused to disobey her further no matter the temptation. 

"Careful now," (Y/N) said lowly, his breath fanning against Jace's face and drawing his attention down to his lips. "You should recall we're cut from the same cloth, as Ulf said." 

His blunt nails dug into the skin of his palms until they left deep imprints, sharply inhaling through his nose as his eyes darted back upward to meet (Y/N)'s. Jace stared at him, the tension in the room nearly beginning to suffocate him before he lunged forward, his hands grasping the collar of his shirt and lips slamming against his. A muffled noise of surprise left (Y/N) and the two staggered backward until (Y/N) collapsed back on his bed with Jace atop him. Jace pulled back with heavy pants, his hands still clutching the shirt and his brain beginning to process what exactly he'd do. 

Mortification slipped in ever so slowly, followed by guilt for having his first kiss be with anyone but his darling betrothed. (Y/N) stared up at him with widened eyes and parting lips that suddenly looked enticing to Jace. Gods be good. Jace squeezed his eyes shut, desperately reminding himself he was engaged and that laying with someone such as (Y/N) would be an utter stain on his royal title. His eyes tentatively parted to absorb (Y/N)'s reaction, but his features had softened instead of hardened. 

"I hate you." Jace exhaled quietly and released his shirt, his hands planting themselves on either side of (Y/N)'s head. "You are a commoner. The smallfolk have no place in court, no reason to even step within a castle unless it is to beg for our kindness. I wished for nothing more than to watch Chyrys burn you to crisp-"

"But alas, here I am." (Y/N)'s hands cautiously settled on Jace's hips. "And with or without my presence, you are and will always be a bastard." 

Jace huffed. "Shut your mouth."

"Make me, Lord Strong."

With little to no hesitance, Jace swooped down and delivered a rough kiss to his lips. He had no experience, as embarrassing as it was, and he hoped it was far from obvious as he pressed his mouth harder against (Y/N)'s. He resisted the urge to jerk back when (Y/N) licked into his mouth and focused on clumsily trying to rid himself of his clothing. His cheeks flared at the soft groan that felt him, his spinning mind edging him on to entice those noises out of (Y/N) rather than allow someone such as the dragonseed to elicit them from a prince. His teeth caught (Y/N)'s bottom lip and lightly bit down, satisfied when the hint of metallic hit his tongue.

(Y/N) only chuckled despite the blood sliding along his lip, his hand rising to cup the back of Jace's head and fingers slipping through his brown curls before he tugged. A sharp, whiny curse escaped Jace and humiliation filled the prince when he felt his breeches grow annoyingly tight against him from the act. (Y/N) laughed in response, his eyes bright with mischievous delight at the discovery that made Jace's skin warm further. 

"Bastard," Jace swore.

"I know I am," (Y/N) pushed himself up into a sitting position, his head burying itself in Jace's neck and teeth clamping down hard enough to leave a mark. He brushed his lips up along the side of his throat until he reached Jace's ear, his free hand pushing into Jace's hips and making their hips press together. Jace cursed again. "And so are you, My Prince."

[bloodibambiidoll]

I'm asking waayyy too much BUT ITS THE LAST ONE I PINKY PROMISE( for today. . .)

Anyyywaayyssss, okay so what if weird girl!reader was hanging around n climbing trees or something (bc I do that-) and JJ sees her and he's like "girl wtf r u doing up there" and blah blah blah it's there first time meeting too (it would be fun if rafe sees this and they're not dating yet n he gets a lil jelly hehe)

VERY RANDOM BUT MY HEAD JUST WORKS LIKE THATTT

Ty bb🪽🫀

Omg yes!! This is such a cutie idea!! I actually had this pic saved on her Pinterest board bc she absolutely climbs trees. Sometimes she just climbs a little too high… Jealous!Rafe, fluff, lovesick!Rafe 18+MNDI!

(Also in another world Jj & Weird!girl would be so cute actually)

“What’re you doing up there?” The sound of someone’s voice nearly has you falling off the tree branch you’re perched on as your hand flies to chest and a surprised gasp leaves you. You look below you to see a head of messy blonde hair and ocean blue eyes squinting up at you through the sun. You’ve never met him, but recognize him of course, it’s not like the island is particularly big so you’ve seen everyone at least once. Jj Maybank, he’s from the cut so it makes sense that you’ve never really crossed paths. He’s cute though.

“Umm… I’m doing pretty much exactly what it looks like I’m doing, sitting in a tree.” You let out a little small chuckle as you look down at him. “What are you doing down there?”

“Well, I’m exactly what it looks like I’m doing, walking on the ground.” You snort at that, giving him a playful roll of your eyes. “I know, I’m hilarious. I was just makin’ sure you weren’t stuck up there or anything.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say stuck. I’d say I may have flown too close to the sun climbing up this high.” You shrug as you kick your dangling feet back and forth.

“Soooo… you’re stuck then?” Jj smirks up at you as he adjusts the cap on his head so it’s facing backwards. It gives you a better view of his face, he’s cute. Maybe if you weren’t already so invested in Rafe you would definitely be interested in him.

“I mean, mentally? Yes. Physically? No. I could get down whenever I want, actually.” Your voice is sickly sweet and Jj wonders why he’s never talked to you before. He’s seen you around and he’s always thought you were hot. That whole semi creepy but still angelic vibe you give off really does it for him.

“Yeah? You need some help?” He chuckles and leans his hand against the trunk of the tree, out stretching his neck and accentuating his jaw. He looks like he’d be nice to bite.

“She’s good, Maybank.” Your head whips around to see Rafe walking down the dirt path with a stone cold look set on his face. “I can help my girl. You can fuck off now.”

“Rafey! Hi!” You smile wide as you wave down at him enthusiastically. You sent him a picture of you up in the tree telling him you might need a little help getting down and he immediately dropped everything to come to your rescue.

“Rafey, huh? That’s adorable, truly.” Jj smirks at Rafe and it has him breathing out hard through his nostrils. He’s been trying really hard not to beat every man who looks at you to a pulp but seeing fucking Jj Maybank smirking up at you while you giggle is making him see red.

“Shut the fuck up, Pogue. Didn’t I tell you to fuck off? I suggest you do before we have an actual problem.” Rafe takes a few steps towards him, his eyes are like blue fire as he glares at Jj like he wants to burn him alive. It’s kind of hot. If you’re being honest with yourself.

“Okaaaay, I think that’s enough. I’m good Jj, thank you for offering to help me, you’re sweet.” You give him a saccharine smile and it makes him swoon just a little. You are so cute that if he wasn’t trying to stay off the cops radar he would probably stand here and fuck with Rafe even more.

“Yeah, no problem, sweetheart. See ya around, let me know if pretty boy over here decides to fuck you over, I don’t mind being your rebound.” Jj bites his lip as he winks at you before turning to walk off. Rafe wants to chase after him and wipe that smug ass look off his face by shoving it into the dirt.

“Raaaafe.” You snap your fingers to get his attention and it pulls him out of his rage filled trance. He looks up at you, smiling down at him so sweetly and he almost forgets who Jj Maybank even is. Almost. He still wants to kick his fucking ass.

“Hmm? Yeah baby?”

“Can you help me get down now?” He giggle and Rafe swears it’s his favorite sound other than when you scream for him while you fall apart in his cock.

“Oh shit, yeah. C’mere.” Rafe moves so he’s directly under you with his arms outstretched. “Jump down, I’ll catch you.”

“I don’t know, Rafe. I’m pretty high up.” Your expression turns nervous so Rafe leans up so he can hit the bottom of your shoe with the tips of his fingers.

“You’re not even that high, see? Just fuckin’ jump. Promise I won’t let you fall.” He shakes his hands above his head and gives you that semi goofy, reassuring smile that’s reserved only for you.

“Okay. Fine.” You let out a dramatic sigh before bracing your hands on the branch so you can push yourself down into Rafe’s arms. A little squeal leaves you when he grips onto your hips and pulls you against his chest. You wrap your arms around his neck so you can plant a messy smooch on his lips. “My savior!! How will I ever repay you, fair knight?”

“Pft. You’re so fuckin’ dramatic.” Rafe snorts as he lightly sets you down on the ground.

“I’m dramatic? You were about to beat Jj’s ass for trying to help me!” You laugh, jokingly pushing your hand into his shoulder.

“Nah, he was doing more than just trynna help you.” Rafe grabs onto your hand so he can pull you closer against his chest. “He was fucking flirting with you and you’re mine.”

“Yours, huh? Guess I missed the letter in the mail that said we were official.”

“Oh my god, you’re so dumb.” Rafe throws his head back with a groan but you can see the smile painted across your lips. “I thought I made it pretty fuckin’ clear that you’re my girl.”

“Hmmm… I don’t know, might need you to spell it out for me.” Your giggle makes butterflies erupt in his stomach and Rafe never believed in that butterflies in your tummy bullshit until he met you.

“Ugh. You’re a brat, you know that?” You shrug, letting out a satisfied hum. “Fine. Be my girlfriend?”

“Uh, duh, I already am.” He rolls his eyes and you give him a satisfied smile. “Just wanted to hear you say it.”

“You’re sooo in for it when we get back to my place. Brat.” He grips onto your neck, pulling your lips against his in a rough kiss. “Car. Let’s go.”

“Okay, okay, sooo bosssy.” He smacks your ass and you yelp, running full speed toward his truck.

“Oh hell nah! Get your lil ass back here!!”

Taglist: @babygorewhore @strawberrydolly333 @starkeysprincess @sturnioloshacker @nemesyaaa @rafeinterlude @loserboysandlithium

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

Divider is @strangergraphics

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐁𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → embarrassing situation

Summary → Peter and you get caught by May.

Peter’s sixteenth birthday had been awkward, to say the least.

May had tried her best to make it memorable—she’d baked his favorite cake, gifted him a new Lego set, and even made sure his friends came over earlier to celebrate with him. Everything seemed to be going fine, that is until the last gift came, when everyone left and it's just May and Peter.

“Happy birthday, Peter!” May beamed as she handed him a small, neatly wrapped box. Peter furrowed his brow, curious, looking up at her suspiciously.

“Uh, thanks, May,” he said slowly, already a little concerned. He tore open the wrapping paper and lifted the lid, only for his face to instantly turn beet red.

“Oh my God, May!” He groaned, his eyes wide as he stared down at the contents of the box—condoms. His whole body felt like it was on fire from embarrassment.

May, leaning casually against Peter's study table, had the audacity to smirk. “What? I just want you to be prepared, Peter,” she said, entirely too calm for his liking. “You’re sixteen now, you’re growing up, and I’m not dumb. Boys your age—”

“May!” Peter flailed, waving his hands as if he could physically stop the words from coming out of her mouth. “Please! I don’t even have a girlfriend!”

May tilted her head and gave him a look, one of those all-knowing, teasing looks that made Peter feel like she could read his mind. “Really? You don’t? So, what about Y/n? Weren't you crushing on her? I literally saw you stutter in front of her when she came over at the party.” Her eyebrows wiggled, and Peter wanted to sink into the floor.

Peter’s face turned an even brighter shade of red—if that was possible. “That’s different! I mean… I haven’t even asked her out yet!” He stammered, shuffling his feet awkwardly as he tried not to make eye contact with May. He glanced at the box in his hands and quickly shoved it behind his back, as if doing that would make it all disappear. “This is... so weird.”

May chuckled, walking over to him, and affectionately ruffling his curly hair. “It’s not weird, Peter. It’s called being responsible.” She softened her tone, looking at him with sincere eyes now. “I just want you to be smart about these things when you’re ready. You’ll thank me later.”

Peter groaned, turning away from her as he tossed the box into the drawer of his nightstand like it was a hot potato. “Yeah, yeah. But for the record, I’m not using them anytime soon. Seriously.”

Exactly one week later, Peter found himself standing beside your locker, nervously shifting from one foot to the other as he finally worked up the nerve to ask you out.

---

Now, five months had passed since that nerve-wracking moment when Peter had stammered his way through asking you to be his girlfriend. His hands had been clammy, he couldn’t stop fidgeting, and the carefully rehearsed speech he’d prepared had completely fallen apart when he saw your smile. Somehow, though, despite his stumbling words and flushed cheeks, you’d said yes.

He was convinced his heart had exploded when he heard your response. But there was just one problem.

He still hadn’t told May.

Peter wasn’t actively trying to hide it from her—well, not exactly. He just hadn’t found the right time to bring up the fact that he has a girlfriend. May was great, but he could already imagine the look of teasing glee on her face once she found out, and that thought alone made his stomach twist into knots. So, for now, sneaking around felt… easier. Plus, it wasn’t like he was lying. Well, not much. May thought he was out on patrol today, but instead, he was spending the afternoon with you.

Meanwhile, May was blissfully unaware of Peter’s real plans for the day. She was lounging at home, sipping coffee, when she decided she might as well tidy up his room. After all, Peter was always too busy with school, work, and Spider-Man duties to keep up with it himself. Humming to herself, she stepped into his messy room.

“That boy never cleans,” May muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she picked up discarded clothes from the floor and tossed them into a laundry basket.

As she straightened his bed, something caught her eye—something dark and out of place, sticking out of his closet. Frowning, she walked over to investigate, pulling the item free from the shelf.

A black lacy bra.

May blinked. “What the…?” She stared at it in confusion, her mind racing. When did Peter start collecting bras? No, that can’t be it. Does Peter have a girlfriend? She squinted at the bra, trying to piece things together.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, but as she processed it further, her eyes darted toward Peter’s nightstand. A sudden memory surfaced—the box of condoms she’d given Peter on his sixteenth birthday. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she pulled the drawer open, her stomach in knots.

There it was.

The box, which had once been full, now contained only two condoms. May stood there, staring down at it in disbelief.

“Oh boy…” she muttered to herself, exhaling sharply. She didn’t know whether to be angry that Peter hadn’t told her or relieved that at least he was being safe. Either way, her emotions swirled between concern and amusement. He’s really growing up, she thought, but her protective instincts kicking in.

May sat down on the edge of Peter’s bed, running a hand through her hair. “We’re going to need to have a talk,” she whispered to herself, trying to think of how to approach the conversation. She didn’t want to embarrass him more than necessary, but she also couldn’t ignore this.

Just as she was about to step out of the room, she heard the front door creak open. Voices, low and hushed, floated through the hallway.

Peter and you stumbled inside, locked in a heated kiss. Peter’s hands were wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as you giggled into his lips. You barely broke away long enough to whisper, “You sure May isn’t home?”

“She’s at FEAST, don’t worry,” Peter reassured you, his voice rough and breathless as his lips moved down to your neck.

You chuckled, running your fingers through his curls. “Good, because I’ve been waiting all day for this…”

Suddenly, a voice boomed through the house, cutting through the heat of the moment like a knife. “PETER BENJAMIN PARKER!”

Both of you froze in place, your lips barely an inch apart. Peter’s eyes widened in horror as he recognized the voice.

“May,” he whispered, his blood running cold. You quickly pulled away, your face flushed with embarrassment.

May stood at the doorway to Peter’s room, her hands on her hips, her expression a mix of fury and disbelief. The bra dangled from her hand like a smoking gun.

Peter gulped. “I-I can explain.”

May raised an eyebrow, stepping into the room. “Oh, I’m sure you can,” she said, her voice dangerously calm. “But first, care to explain this?” She held up the bra, her gaze shifting between you and Peter.

You winced, your cheeks turning bright red as you avoided eye contact. Peter, however, was already spiraling into full-blown panic mode.

“Okay, okay, listen, May! It’s not—it’s not what you think!” Peter stammered, holding his hands up defensively. “We didn’t… I mean, it’s not like… we just…”

May crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently. “Oh really? So you’re telling me this bra just magically appeared in your closet? Why didn't you tell me?”

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I… I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to make things awkward. Y/n and I have been dating for five months, but—”

“Five months?” May interrupted, her eyes widening. “Five months, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

You finally found the courage to speak up. “It’s not Peter’s fault, May. We just… wanted to keep things low-key.”

May’s expression softened, but only slightly. “Low-key doesn’t mean sneaking around behind my back.” She sighed, rubbing her temples. “And don’t think I didn’t notice this either.” She motioned to the condom box.

Peter groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh God, this is the worst day of my life.”

May shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth despite her frustration. “It’s not the worst, Peter. Trust me, I’ve seen worse. But we’re going to have a conversation about this.”

Peter’s head shot up, his face paling. “Oh no, not the talk. May, I’m almost seventeen, please—”

“Exactly, you’re almost seventeen, and that’s why you need this talk.” May’s tone was firm but caring. She turned to you with a sigh.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, glancing toward the door, clearly wanting to flee. But before you could make your escape, May held up a hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“Y/n, stay,” May said firmly, though her voice softened a little. “You’re a part of this too, and I need to make sure you’re okay as well.” She glanced between you and Peter, concern etched on her face.

Peter shot you a helpless look, his eyes wide and pleading. You swallowed nervously and nodded, stepping back to Peter’s side, feeling the heat rush to your face.

May took a deep breath, pulling out the desk chair and sitting down. ��Alright. First of all, Peter, you should’ve told me about you two. I’m not mad you’re dating Y/n. What I’m mad about is the sneaking around.”

Peter winced. “I know, I should’ve… I just didn’t know how to bring it up, and I thought… I thought it might make things weird.”

May shook her head. “Peter, I’m your aunt, not your enemy. I’m not here to make things difficult for you. But sneaking around, lying about where you’re going… I’m not okay with that.”

Peter hung his head. “I’m sorry, May. I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m not done,” May interrupted, raising a hand. She then turned to you, her expression softening. “And Y/n, I hope you understand that you’re important to Peter—and that means you’re important to me, too. I’m not mad at you either, but I do need to talk to both of you about… boundaries.”

You felt your face go hot again, but you nodded. “I understand. I just didn’t want to make things awkward with you.”

May gave you a small, understanding smile. “I appreciate that, but what I really care about is that both of you are being responsible. I see you found a way to use those condoms I gave Peter.”

Peter made a noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper, covering his face with both hands. “May, please, no,” he muttered, absolutely mortified.

May ignored his protest and pressed on. “Look, I get it—you’re teenagers, you’re curious, and you have feelings for each other. But I need to know that you’re both being careful and not rushing into anything you’re not ready for.”

Peter peeked through his fingers, his face still flushed. “We’re being careful. I swear.” He shot a glance at you, making sure you were okay with what he was saying.

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we are. We didn’t… it’s not like we’re rushing into anything. We’ve just been… taking our time.”

May looked between the two of you, nodding slowly. “Okay. That’s good to hear. But just so we’re clear, I’m always here if you have questions or concerns. I’d rather you talk to me about things than hide them.”

Peter dropped his hands to his sides, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Okay. We get it, May. No more secrets.”

May’s expression softened further as she stood and approached the two of you. “Good. I trust you, Peter. And you, Y/n.” She gave you a gentle pat on the arm before turning to Peter, raising an eyebrow. “But if I ever find something like this again without knowing what’s going on…” She held up the bra, waving it slightly. “…we’re having another talk. And it won’t be as nice.”

Peter winced, his face burning with embarrassment. “Got it. Loud and clear.”

May sighed and placed the bra back into your hands. “Here, you should take this with you, Y/n. I don’t think Peter needs to be holding onto it any longer.”

You let out a nervous laugh, grabbing it and stuffing it into your bag as fast as you could. “Thanks, May. I’ll… uh, make sure it doesn’t end up here again.”

Peter groaned, rubbing his face. “Please, can we stop talking about the bra now?”

May chuckled, shaking her head. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop torturing you.”

Just then, the sound of May’s phone buzzing broke the tension. She pulled it from her pocket and glanced at the screen. “Looks like I’ve got to head back to FEAST. They need me for something.” She looked back at the two of you, her tone softening. “Just… think about what I said, okay? Be smart. Be responsible.”

Peter nodded quickly, clearly eager for this conversation to be over. “We will, May. Thanks.”

With one last look at you both, May gave a nod and headed toward the door. “I’ll be back later tonight. Don’t get into any more trouble while I’m gone.”

As the door closed behind her, Peter let out a long breath, slumping down on his bed in defeat. “Oh my God,” he groaned, staring up at the ceiling. “That was the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You giggled softly, sitting down beside him and nudging his shoulder. “Well… at least she wasn’t that mad.”

Peter looked at you, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Yeah, I guess. But seriously, how am I ever going to look her in the eye again?”

You laughed and leaned over, kissing him gently on the cheek. “You’ll survive. Besides, now that she knows, we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

Peter’s eyes lit up at the thought, a mischievous grin forming on his face. “That’s true. We could… take advantage of that.”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully nudging him again. “Oh really? After that talk we just had?”

Peter chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. “Well, maybe not right after,” he teased, pressing his forehead against yours.

You laughed, resting your head against his chest as you both lay back on the bed. For a moment, everything was peaceful, the tension from earlier melting away. Peter stroked your hair gently, his breath steady and calm.

“Thanks for staying,” he murmured, his voice soft.

You smiled, your hand resting on his chest as you looked up at him. “Of course. We’re in this together.”

Peter pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Yeah. Together.”

“Oh no,” Peter muttered, his face paling.

You blinked, sitting up beside him. “What? What’s wrong?”

Peter groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Did she take the condoms?”

You raised an eyebrow, confused. “Why?”

Peter bit his lip nervously and looked at you, cheeks flushing. “She’s out… so, maybe we could c-continue what we planned.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. “Peter…”

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[jaemmphilia]

heart stop (jung sungchan)

☾ featuring: gym bro! sungchan x m! artist! reader ☾ synopsis: sungchan gets to...sleep with his crush !! ☾ content: (3.3k words), smut (18+ mdni or i will kick you), the sex is protected in this one (gotta be responsible), consensual photo taking, honestly this is just standard smut, nothing special ☾ notes: PART TWO BABYYY, this is a special collab with kyu !!!! @luvkyu this is where the nasty, filthy magic happens ☾ jaemmphilia, 2024. plagiarism of any kind is forbidden.

part one (in case you missed it)

y/n stands at the edge of his bed, his hand holding his chin as he stares at the two sets of clothes laid out so nicely on his bed. his socked feet scratch his bare legs as he hums softly to himself.

y/n is aware that no one at the bonfire is going to care about what he's wearing, too occupied with cuddling close to the fire with their partners or crushes. and y/n is also aware that it's just an outfit, but he doesn't want to turn up to the function looking like hot garbage.

he considers the outfit on his left, but he realizes how much he likes the shirt on the right, it just doesn't go well with the pants on the left. he also considers going to seunghan's dorm and raiding the younger male's closet (seunghan has the best hoodies that smell amazing).

but then y/n's mind wanders to the reason why he's going to the bonfire in the first place.

sungchan.

he feels his face warm up at the thought of possibly snuggling close to sungchan as the light from the fire illuminates his strong features. sungchan's muscular arm wrapped around his shoulders as they whisper about whatever is on their minds.

y/n thinks about the way sungchan had given him a pat on the head just a hours ago, and it makes him chuckle. he doesn't know why sungchan went with a head pat, when there were plenty of other dismissal options in the entire world (a kiss on the cheek would've been less odd).

y/n just shakes his head and checks his phone. he has a few messages form seunghan, the other male announcing he would be barging into y/n's dorm in 5 minutes. y/n prepares himself for his best friend's presence, he quickly gets dressed and fixes his hair how it typically looks on a normal day.

--

when the two males arrive at the beach, bag of drinks in hand, they search around to see if there are any open seats for them to sit in.

"y/n! over here!"

y/n turns his head toward the voice calling his name and he sees shotaro, waving his hands and motioning for him to come over. y/n also notices eunseok and sungchan sitting next to him along with two empty chairs.

y/n smiles and walks over to the trio, seunghan right behind him. y/n picks the chair that's right next to sungchan, forcing seunghan to sit next to eunseok. y/n can see the pout on seunghan's face from his peripherals, but his eyes are on sungchan.

"we brought you guys some drinks," y/n says once he realizes he may have been staring for too long, "we didn't know if drinks would be provided, so we stopped at a 7-11 on our way here."

"y/n, ever the sweetheart. always thinking about others and not himself," shotaro says, bringing his clasped fits up under his chin and wiggling his body from side to side.

y/n stifles a laugh and shakes his head at his friend, "be quiet, taro," y/n chides his friend, reaching into the bag and passing a drink to sungchan to pass to shotaro.

as sungchan takes the can from y/n (he isn't looking at y/n, he's too busy listening to what eunseok is saying about some game), he feels his hand come in contact with something warm. he whips his head to look at the male beside him, his eyes staring intently into y/n's own pair.

sungchan just stares, his chilly fingertips laid gently on top of y/n's much warmer fingertips. shotaro snickers along with eunseok and he can faintly hear the shutter of a camera. he blinks and snaps out his lovestruck trance. he clears his throat and passes the drink down to shotaro who is still giggling like a schoolgirl. sungchan mutters a soft, 'shut up..' which only makes shotaro's giggles turn into full on cackles.

"i'm saving those pictures for a later day, b-t-w," shotaro says once his laughter dies down, and sungchan wishes he could just press the mute button on a remote and shut his friend up and save him from anymore embarrassment.

y/n just snickers and keeps passing the drinks around until there are no more. the group of five open their drinks and enjoy each others' company with light chatter and silly stories.

--

as the night goes on, there are laughs and happy energy shared between the five newfound friends. y/n checks his phone for the first time since they arrived a the bonfire, and he feels the color drain from his face. he gets up quickly, causing the other four guys to look at him with surprise and confusion.

"what's going on, babe?" shotaro asks, his brows furrowed at his friend's sudden frenzy.

y/n doesn't even acknowledge the pet name shotato insists on using. he's too busy digging his fingers into his eyes, a stressed groan falling past his lips.

"my roommate just texted that he was going to be bringing his long-distance boyfriend back to our dorm. so i can't go there tonight," y/n explains, leaning back in his chair, his head tipped back, exposing his neck muscles straining from the movement.

sungchan stares at the exposed skin of y/n's neck. he can't help but let his mind wander what the expanse of skin would look like with dozens of purple and red blotches littering the once clear skin.

sungchan is snapped out of his thoughts when he feels a pinch on his upper arm. he jerks his arm away and rubs at the sore spot as he looks at shotaro pointedly.

shotaro nods toward y/n, silently urging sungchan to offer his dorm and company to his crush. sungchan doesn't say anything for a second, his mind running a mile a minute at the thought of being with y/n in such a small place. he feels his stomach turn and he swallows the lump in his throat.

"you-" sungchan starts, his voice cracking but clears his voice before speaking again, "you can crash at my dorm tonight, my roommate is out of town for a few days."

y/n ponders the offer for a second. does he really want to be alone with his crush in a smaller space than he's used to? he weighs his options; he could either stay with seunghan, who tends to kick in his sleep and oftentimes talks in his sleep, or he could stay with sungchan and possibly get to know the muscular male better in the process.

after a moment of pondering, he replies:

"sure, it would probably be better than sleeping with seunghan, anyways."

"hey, that's mean, y/n!" seunghan defends, pointing a finger at the male who insulted him.

"i wasn't trying to be nice, hannie."

--

sungchan enters his dorm, y/n right behind him. he flips the light switch on, allowing y/n to get a good look at the room. y/n takes in his surroundings, taking note of the posters littering the walls. he sees a lot of sports posters and a few posters of musicians. as y/n's eyes look around, his eyes land on a little photo collage on the wall next to sungchan's bed.

he steps toward the bed to get a better look. he sees some landscape photos and some polaroid photos of shotaro and eunseok. a smile creeps onto his lips as he realizes that sungchan was the one to take the photos.

"i didn't know you did photography," y/n points out, making sungchan turn to the other male, "you're really good."

sungchan's cheeks grow pink at the compliment. not a lot of people are aware of his hobby, only his close friends and some of his family members.

"thanks. it's really just a hobby that i indulge in when i'm not in the gym or in class," sungchan explains, "i have more pictures. if you want to see them, that is."

"i would love to see them! besides, you've seen my art, i think it's only fair i get to see yours."

sungchan just chuckles and get his camera out of its bag. he powers the device on and waits for it to boot up. y/n marvels at the camera.

"woah, i didn't expect you to have a high quality camera. i figured you took them on your phone." y/n says, his eyes wide as he looks at the expensive camera.

"i mean, i like taking pics on my phone for portability reasons, but i like the outcome of the pictures way more when they're taken with this camera." sungchan explains, y/n letting out a soft 'oh' in understanding.

"i know how you feel. i have cheaper supplies available to me, but i like the outcome of the more expensive supplies better."

sungchan nods in agreement and he shows y/n the various pictures he's taken with his camera, the two of them sitting on sungchan's bed, their arms touching. neither of them seem to mind that their arms are touching because of how close they are.

once they get to the end of the photos, they look at each other and finally take in the proximity. sungchan stares into y/n eyes before his eyes automatically flit to the male's lips.

y/n takes notice of this and decides to lick his lips while sungchan stares. sungchan sucks in a breath, his eyes wide.

"is something wrong, channie?" y/n teases, and typically the nickname wouldn't turn him on, but the way y/n says it has sungchan's cock twitching in his pants.

"can i kiss you, y/n? i don't know if i can hold back any longer."

y/n just simply nods, and sungchan gathers up as much courage as he can, his tongue jutting out to wet his lips.

sungchan scoots closer and leans in to connect his lips with y/n's. the kiss starts out soft, their lips molding together for a moment before sungchan's hand comes up to cup y/n's jaw gently. sungchan's tongue swipes against y/n's plush bottom lip, the other male allowing him to slide the wet muscle inside his mouth.

the kiss only escalates from there, the male swapping spit and moaning into each other's mouths. sungchan pulls away and attaches his lips to y/n's neck, kissing the skin lightly. y/n just sighs, tipping his head to the side to give sungchan more room to work with. y/n slides his hands around to sungchan's back and he slides them under sungchan's hoodie, discovering that the male doesn't have a shirt on.

y/n lets his hands rub and grip at sungchan's muscular back. he feels the male nibble at the side of his neck and he moans softly at the feeling. it stings, but in a good way.

sungchan ends up lightly pushing y/n down to lay on the bed. sungchan is grateful that he and his roommate decided against putting their beds atop each other to make bunkbeds. if they had done that, sungchan would have definitely hit his head and possibly concussed himself before he was even able to touch his crush.

sungchan climbs over y/n and sits back on his heels. he quickly pulls off his hoodie, allowing y/n to see the one thing he dreamt about seeing. y/n takes in sungchan's bare torso, his skin the perfect honey color. y/n takes in the way sungchan's muscles ripple with every single movement he makes and y/n feels like he's drooling.

sungchan connects his lips with y/n's again, his arms on either side of the smaller male.

as they continue to make out on sungchan's bed, they take turns ridding each other of their clothes until the both of them are fully naked in front of each other.

as sungchan takes in y/n's naked form laid out on his bed, his eyes glance at his camera sitting on his bedside table. y/n notices that sungchan is looking at his camera and he already knows where sungchan's mind is going.

"i'll let you take one picture," y/n says, his hand reaching up to lightly pull sungchan's head to look at him, "if you keep it in a secret folder where no one can ever see it but you."

sungchan nods with out hesitation. he would hate to betray y/n's trust, especially before the two of them even had the chance to talk about their very obvious feelings for each other.

"yes, of course. i wouldn't dare show anyone something as intimate as this," sungchan says, reaching over to grab his camera and fiddle with the settings.

once he gets his settings exactly how he wants them, he holds his camera up to his eye to see what kind of angle he's looking for. sungchan gets into his photographer mode, his brows furrowed and his tongue poking out from between his lips.

y/n just giggles at the male, a soft smile painting his pretty face. sungchan quickly snaps a few pictures, capturing y/n's gentle smile and his eyes that are closed. y/n's wasn't posing purposely, he was just laying there on the bed, his body language comfortable, with this hardening length covered by his plush thigh.

sungchan removes the camera from his face and he takes a look at the results. his breath hitches and a warm feeling pools in his stomach. his cock stands at full hardness, which doesn't go unnoticed by y/n.

y/n sits up and reaches out to stroke sungchan's length. his hand wraps around the males cock, his up and down movements very slow, but his grip is snug.

sungchan almost doubles over, nearly dropping his camera. y/n apologizes with a laugh, his movements pausing while sungchan carefully puts his camera away.

once the camera is safe and sound, y/n begins to stroke the cock in his hand. he adjusts his position so he is able to wrap his lips around sungchan's cock. y/n bobs his head up and down, his tongue licking around the underside of sungchan's cock. his hands stroke whatever he can't fit in his mouth, and sungchan knows he isn't going to last if y/n keeps going.

sungchan shudders, a telltale sign that he's close to his release. sungchan places his hand on y/n's head and lightly grips at the male's strands of hair at his crown.

"y/n, baby," he sighs out, his head lolling backward, "baby, you have to stop before i bust."

y/n looks up at sungchan through his long lashes and detaches himself from sungchan's cock with a wet pop.

sungchan regains his composure and looks down at the male in front of him. y/n has drool mixed with precum gathered at the corners of his mouth and on his lips. sungchan gets the two of them back in their laying position, his hand snaking toward y/n's behind.

sungchan kisses y/n while his hand slips between the male's cheeks, his fingers gliding along y/n's rim. this action draws a shiver and a whine out of y/n, the male's eyes closing.

sungchan slips a finger passed the puckered muscle, taking note of how easy it was to do so. had y/n touched himself before the bonfire in hopes of getting fucked by him?

"my finger just slid right in," sungchan says after he stops kissing y/n, "did you prep yourself beforehand?"

y/n's face and neck gets warm at sungchan's question, he takes a second to answer, his mind clouded with sungchan, sungchan, and sungchan.

"i did, but not before the bonfire," y/n says, his voice shaky from the amount of pleasure he's under.

sungchan nods, slipping in another finger and spreading his digits to stretch the male (although he's stretched pretty good, what did he use?).

"you stretched yourself pretty good, baby. think you can take me?" sungchan teases, chuckling at how y/n writhes under him.

"channie, please," y/n begs.

"please what, baby? you gotta use your words."

"please fuck me, i can take it," y/n continues to beg and whine, his back arching off of the bed as his cock spurts precum from the tip.

sungchan wastes no more time, reaching over to dig in his bedside table's drawer to fetch his condoms and lube. once he retrieves the items, he tears the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolls the rubber onto his cock.

he shuffles his way in between y/n's spread legs and guides his slick cock into y/n's entrance. the two of them let out moans in unison, sungchan's being deep and guttural, while y/n's was more whiny.

sungchan bottoms out and allows himself to really gauge his current situation. he's buried deep inside his crush, something he never thought he would ever get to experience. sungchan allows y/n to adjust to his length and once he notices the male begin to rut his hips, he starts to rock his hips forward.

sungchan hovers over y/n, his arms once again caging the male in. sungchan sets a normal pace, not too fast, but not slow either. sungchan is aware that y/n isn't a virgin and that he's fairly experienced in the sex department, but he doesn't want to overwhelm the male under him. this is their first time together and he doesn't want to ruin it by being greedy.

"you can pick up the pace, please," y/n says, his face twisted up with pleasure, but sungchan can tell that he wants more.

sungchan replies by rutting his hips at a quicker pace, his entire length disappearing inside y/n, making the two of them moan and groan together.

after a handful of thrusts, y/n starts to get even whinier and his grip on sungchan's bicep tightens. the male arches his back and his cock starts leaking, the whiteish liquid dribbling down the sides of his cock.

sungchan picks up the pace once again, his hips beginning to stutter as he feels that familiar band in his lower stomach stretching and finally snapping, spilling his load into the condom. y/n follows right after, his load splattering against his stomach, some of it landing on sungchan's lower stomach.

--

the sun beats into the window, the bright light shining right into sungchan's eyes, making him squeeze his eyes shut as he stirs. his body feels spent as he remembers what happened last night.

his arms also feel full and as he adjusts to the light, he sees y/n laying there in his arms, the male scrolling on his phone. sungchan can't quite see what the male is looking at, but he guesses it is either social media or pinterest.

"morning," y/n says as he feels sungchan stirring and waking up, "did the sun wake you up?"

sungchan hums an affirmative, his hand reaching up to rub at his eyes, his body stretching, muscles flexing. the early morning glow warms up the natural honey color of sungchan's skin, the shadows of the blinds making him look like a painting made by leonardo da vinci himself. he hears a camera shutter and he opens his eyes.

y/n is no longer in his arms, but he's laying across from him, his phone in front of his face as he wears a cheeky smile on his face. sungchan gives him a puzzled look and y/n just giggles.

"what? i needed a drawing reference," y/n explains himself, squealing when sungchan pulls him flush against his chest, his hands lightly grazing the male's skin and tickling him.

"i guess it's only fair because i took pictures of you last night," sungchan says, resting his chin on top of y/n's head.

y/n just nuzzles his face in sungchan's neck, his nose lightly rubbing the skin, making goosebumps form on the male's skin.

the two of them spend the morning cuddled up in bed, choosing to ignore their friends texts asking if they're both alive and if they're sore.

[novaursa]

Where Honor Burns

- Summary: After the tragedy Above the God's Eye, you decided to go to King's Landing, in hope to prevent more bloodshed. Even if it means your death.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Gwanye Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is younger sister of Rhaenyra and was bonded with Silverwing. These events happen right after The Chains We Break. To read all parts in chronological order visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Also, in this AU Rhaenyra never sized King's Landing.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 017

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs @sachaa-ff

- A/N: you guys liked this so much I've decided to push next part out early again, since I have the entire thing finnished already for some time and I feel unfair to keep it from you, as it's very well recived series. There will be one more part of this posted, then it's done. Enjoy. ❤️

The day dawns with gray skies, heavy with the weight of impending rain, as if the gods themselves mourn what has been lost. You stand at the edge of Dragonstone’s cliffs, fingers tightening around the rough parchment in your hand. The inked words smudge slightly from the salt in the air—or perhaps it is the tears you refuse to shed.

Daemon is dead.

The news is sharp and bitter on your tongue, like ashes. You should feel grief, yet what blooms in your chest is nothing more than an emptiness edged with relief. Daemon’s death severs the last frayed threads binding you to him, a marriage that was doomed from the moment it began. The years of ambition, control, and quiet disdain have left scars deeper than any sword could carve. The day you and Rhaenyra agreed to release Gwayne to Otto—sealed your doom as Daemon’s wife. He never forgave you for that. 

The sound of footsteps draws you from your thoughts. Vaeron approaches, his brow furrowed, his usually confident stride hesitant. He’s grown into a fine young man—strong and determined, the fire of Old Valyria running hot in his veins, a fire that no doubt still confused him, born as he was not of Daemon’s blood but of Gwayne’s. The tension between them had only worsened in recent months, yet Vaeron was still the same boy Daemon had taken under his wing, raising him as his own.

“Mother,” Vaeron’s voice is tight, the pain behind it unmistakable. “Is it true?”

You nod, unable to bring yourself to repeat the words. “Daemon and Aemond both perished above the Gods Eye.”

He inhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, full with the silver of his true heritage. “He was a fool to challenge Aemond alone,” he murmurs, but there is no triumph in his voice, only a deep-seated sorrow. Despite everything, Vaeron still sought Daemon’s approval, still yearned for some semblance of affection from the man who had twisted the role of father into something cruel and cold. 

You reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension beneath his skin. “He made his choice, just as we all have,” you say, your voice soft yet firm. “This war has gone on long enough. Too much blood has been spilled, and more will be if we do nothing.”

Vaeron’s gaze sharpens as he looks at you, the young warrior ready for battle in his eyes, but beneath it lies uncertainty. “What are you planning, Mother?”

You straighten your back, steel in your voice as you declare, “I’m going to King’s Landing.”

The words hang in the air like a thunderclap. Vaeron’s eyes widen in shock, a flicker of fear quickly masked by anger. “You can’t! They’ll kill you the moment you set foot near the Red Keep. You’re the one who crippled Aegon at Rook’s Rest! They’ll flay you alive for that alone!”

A bitter smile touches your lips. “Perhaps. But we cannot keep hiding behind dragons and armies, waiting for a decisive blow that may never come. Rhaenyra has the right to the throne, but we cannot burn the realm to the ground for it. Someone must act before there’s nothing left to rule.”

“Mother, please,” Vaeron’s voice breaks with desperation now. “If not for yourself, then for me. You’re all I have left.” 

You feel the sting of tears prickling at the edges of your vision, but you blink them away. You’ve made your choice, and there is no room for doubt. You cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palm, and see the boy you once cradled as a babe, a child of love born in secret. “I am doing this for you, Vaeron. For you, and for the realm. The bloodshed must end, and if it is my life that brings peace, then so be it.”

He looks at you, eyes shining with unshed tears, his jaw clenched. “You can’t do this alone.”

“No,” you agree, your voice softening. “But I must be the one to start it.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. The wind howls around you, the sea crashing violently against the rocks below. Vaeron pulls away, shaking his head as if trying to ward off the inevitability of it all. “I’ll go with you,” he finally says, determination hardening in his voice.

You shake your head gently. “No, my son. You’re needed here. If things go wrong, Rhaenyra will need someone she can trust—someone with a clear head. You must protect your family, no matter what happens.”

He clenches his fists, trembling as he battles between wanting to protect you and knowing you’re right. “I hate this,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “I hate all of it.”

“So do I,” you reply, your voice breaking. “But sometimes, we must do what is necessary, even if it costs us everything.”

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his brow, and for a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to hold him close, the way you did when he was small, and the world was far simpler. When you pull back, his face is set in a mask of determination, so much like yours when you were younger, filled with dreams and desires that have long since turned to ash.

“Stay strong, Vaeron. For our family. For the future.”

With that, you turn and walk back toward the fortress, your steps heavy with the weight of what you must do. Behind you, the wind carries the sound of your son’s quiet sobs, a painful reminder of all that this war has taken and what it will still demand before it is over. 

You do not look back. You cannot afford to.

You have a realm to save.

King’s Landing reeks of decay, the stench of rot clinging to every breath. Gwayne Hightower stands on one of the parapets overlooking the city, the once-proud banners of the Greens fluttering lifelessly in the breeze. His gaze is fixed on the distant horizon, where storm clouds gather ominously, but his thoughts are elsewhere—always elsewhere. No matter how far he tries to distance himself from the past, it haunts him relentlessly, like a ghost that refuses to be exorcised.

It has been months since his return to the capital, and yet every corner, every shadow in this city, reminds him of her. Of Y/N. His beloved, and the sister of the woman the Greens have fought so bitterly to keep from the throne. He grips the stone ledge tightly, knuckles white as he remembers the day he was brought back, humiliated and paraded like a traitor, a stain upon his family’s honor. 

He had expected death. He would have welcomed it if it meant sparing him from the hollow gaze of Ser Criston Cole, who had demanded his execution for treason. The memory of Cole’s cold sneer, his self-righteous fury, still makes Gwayne’s blood simmer. The man had practically salivated at the thought of executing him, of making an example out of the “traitorous” Hightower who had saved Rhaenyra’s sister from the flames at Rook’s Rest. He would never regret that decision. Not for all the power, gold, or prestige in the world. 

But it was not Cole who held Gwayne’s fate. It was his father, Otto, and his sister, the Dowager Queen Alicent, who intervened, silencing Cole’s demands with a forceful refusal. Yet, they had not been merciful. No, they had allowed the rotting head of Silverwing to be mounted for all to see, a cruel display meant to drive a wedge deeper into Gwayne’s heart. Silverwing, Y/N’s dragon, who had died protecting her—left to wither and decay like a forgotten relic. It was an injustice that Gwayne bore like a festering wound, a humiliation barely concealed beneath the mask of duty.

He shuts his eyes, and her face comes to him unbidden—the softness in her eyes that had never wavered, not even in the face of Daemon’s cold disdain, or the harsh realities of war. He remembers the warmth of her hand in his, the way her voice had soothed the fear in his heart, even when the world around them was crumbling. How could he not have saved her that day? How could anyone expect him to do anything less when it was her life at stake?

The rustle of skirts and the subtle scent of lavender and rosemary pulls him from his reverie. Gwayne opens his eyes, finding his sister standing beside him, her expression unreadable. Dowager Queen Alicent still carries herself with the grace of a woman who has shouldered too much, yet refuses to break beneath the weight. Her once fiery determination has dulled into a cold resolve, a woman shaped by grief and loss, and the endless machinations of court.

“Brother,” she greets softly, her voice carrying the echoes of weariness. “It’s been too long since we spoke.”

He offers her a tight nod, forcing the tension from his jaw. “It has, Your Grace.” The formality is deliberate, a barrier between them. Though they share blood, the distance between them has grown insurmountable over the years. 

Alicent’s eyes flicker with something—regret, perhaps?—before she turns her gaze to the city below. “I’ve heard whispers that you’ve been restless of late. The men say you spend too much time brooding alone, staring into the distance as if searching for answers the gods have hidden from us.”

“I am where I am needed, as you and Father commanded,” he replies curtly, unwilling to entertain her probing. He knows what she’s doing. She’s always been good at drawing out what’s hidden beneath the surface, even when he wishes she wouldn’t.

She sighs softly, a sound filled with unspoken words. “You blame us for what was done to Silverwing.”

Gwayne’s grip tightens on the stone again. He doesn’t deny it. “It was a needless cruelty. She was a noble creature who died protecting her rider. Displaying her head like that—it was an insult to the memory of what she represented.”

“An insult, perhaps,” Alicent admits, her tone carefully measured. “But it was necessary. The people needed a symbol, something to remind them of the cost of defiance.”

He scoffs, bitterness curling his lips. “Defiance? Is that what you call saving someone I love?”

The admission slips out before he can stop it, the rawness of his emotions slicing through the air between them. Alicent’s eyes widen slightly, surprise momentarily breaking through her composed mask. But she recovers quickly, her gaze softening as she studies him. “You still think of her.”

“Every day,” Gwayne says quietly, the ache in his chest tightening. “I think of her every godsdamned day, and I regret nothing. You can have me stripped of titles, cast me into the black cells, and I would still choose to save her.”

For a long moment, there is silence between them, broken only by the distant clamor of the city below. Alicent’s eyes are misty as she watches him, her lips parting as if she’s searching for words that won’t come.

Finally, she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. “Love makes fools of us all, Gwayne. It blinds us to what is prudent, to what is wise. I once knew a man who would have risked everything for love, but time and circumstance have a way of teaching us that such devotion often leads to ruin.”

Gwayne meets her gaze, defiance burning in his eyes. “Then let me be a fool, Sister. I would rather be a fool than a coward who sacrifices what is right for what is safe.”

A flicker of pain crosses Alicent’s face at his words, but she doesn’t flinch. “I pray that the choices you’ve made do not bring you to ruin, Gwayne. We’re all caught in this web of power and bloodshed, each of us trying to hold onto what little we have left.”

Her words linger, heavy with the weight of their shared burdens. Gwayne looks away, his heart still tethered to thoughts of Y/N, of what might have been had the world been kinder, had fate been less cruel.

But the world is what it is—a place of suffering, where even the most noble acts are punished and love is a weakness to be exploited. Yet, even knowing that, he would still choose her. Every time.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now,” Gwayne says after a long pause, his voice thick with resignation. “Daemon and Aemond are dead. The game we’ve all played has grown cold, and soon it will be Rhaenyra or Aegon who claims the last move.”

“Perhaps,” Alicent murmurs, though her eyes are distant, as if she’s looking at something far beyond this moment. “But war has a way of devouring everything in its path. Whatever happens next, we must be ready.”

Gwayne doesn’t reply. His thoughts drift back to Y/N, to her strength and the resolve she must be clinging to now. He wonders where she is, if she’s safe, and if she ever thinks of him the way he thinks of her. 

But such thoughts are a luxury he cannot afford. He is here, bound by duty, trapped in a city where his only solace is the memory of what once was—and the unshakable knowledge that he would do it all over again, consequences be damned.

The clouds overhead break, and the first droplets of rain begin to fall. As the chill seeps into his bones, Gwayne turns away from the edge, leaving the ghosts of what might have been behind, even if they’ll never truly leave him.

The streets of King’s Landing are thick with discord, and the air hums with the whispers of the crowds. The cobblestones are slick with grime and spilled wine as people press closer to watch, their eyes gleaming with morbid curiosity. The moment you arrived at the city gates, there was no ceremony, no dignity—only the iron grip of Ser Criston Cole’s men as they dragged you from your mount, jeering insults trailing in their wake.

“Look at the whore! Just like her sister!”

The words sting like poisoned arrows, yet you hold your head high, refusing to break. The crowd surges, pressing closer, feeding on the spectacle of your humiliation. You’ve been paraded through the streets like a common criminal, Cole’s grip never loosening as he drags you closer to the Red Keep, his eyes alight with vindictive satisfaction. It’s clear he’s been waiting for this moment, to claim victory over the woman —Rhaenyra— who once defied him and the family he serves so devoutly.

He stops abruptly before the gates of the Red Keep, turning to the gathered throng with a sneer curling his lips. “Behold! The dragon’s whore, sister to the pretender queen, come to grovel for mercy she does not deserve!” His voice carries, cold and mocking, inciting the crowd further. They howl their approval, eager for blood—yours or anyone else’s. It makes no difference to them.

But you do not bow your head. You meet Cole’s gaze with icy defiance, refusing to let him see how your heart hammers in your chest. The memories of Silverwing’s rotting head flash in your mind, a stark reminder of the cruelty that awaits you here. But you force yourself to stand tall. You’ve faced worse than this.

You’re brought into the throne room, where Alicent Hightower and her father, Otto, wait. Aegon’s absence is notable, but you know the reason. The rumors speak of his broken body, of his delirious cries as the milk of the poppy steals his sanity away. The once-proud king is now nothing more than a husk, a shadow of the tyrant he once was.

Alicent’s expression is tight with a mixture of weariness and caution, her eyes flicking between you and Cole as if assessing the weight of this confrontation. Otto stands beside her, his face carved from stone, every line etched with ambition and ruthlessness. It’s clear they intend to wring every ounce of leverage from this moment.

“You have a great deal of nerve coming here,” Otto begins, his voice clipped, “knowing the crimes you’ve committed against this family and this realm. You crippled the king, threw the Greens into disarray, and now you slink back like a beggar, expecting what? Mercy? Forgiveness?”

You square your shoulders, refusing to cower. “I came to end the bloodshed. How many more sons, brothers, and fathers must die before you realize that this war has no victors? Only ashes.”

Alicent’s eyes darken, the mention of sons clearly striking a nerve. She opens her mouth to speak, but before she can, the doors burst open, and Gwayne strides in, his face a mask of barely-contained fury.

“Enough of this!” he bellows, his voice reverberating through the chamber. He moves to rush toward you, but Cole steps forward, his hand already on the hilt of his sword, blocking Gwayne’s path.

“Stay back, Ser Gwayne. This is not your concern,” Cole snaps, his disdain for Gwayne evident in every word.

Gwayne’s eyes blaze as he turns his glare on Cole. “Not my concern? You dare speak to me of what concerns me when you’ve dragged the mother of my son through the streets like some common criminal? You’ve no right to degrade her like this!”

Otto’s eyes narrow at his son, but his voice remains calm, almost condescending. “You forget your place, Gwayne. This is not a matter for your heart to decide. The woman stands accused of treason, of crimes against the Crown.”

“I care nothing for your accusations, Father!” Gwayne’s voice cracks with the intensity of his emotions. “I will not stand by while you humiliate the woman I love—while you let her suffer when this war has already taken too much from all of us!”

There is a silence that follows his words, thick with the weight of what he’s just confessed. Alicent’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, her gaze softening with a flicker of sympathy as she studies her brother’s desperate expression. She’s lost so much—Aemond to the skies above the Gods Eye, Daeron at Tumbleton, and Aegon reduced to a broken shell. For a moment, her mask of cold resolve cracks.

“What would you have me do, Gwayne?” she asks quietly, almost pleading. “What resolution is there, when every path leads to more bloodshed?”

Gwayne takes a step forward, his voice gentler now, imploring. “Let me marry her. Let Viserys’ refusal be buried with him. If we end this cycle of vengeance, perhaps—just perhaps—we can stop this madness. Rhaenyra’s forces are strong, but even she tires of the bloodshed. The realm cannot survive more of this conflict.”

Alicent’s lips press into a thin line, uncertainty warring with her long-held beliefs. “Marrying her would be an insult to the Greens, to everything we’ve fought for. How can you ask me to allow such a union?”

“Because you’ve already lost two sons,” Gwayne says, his voice raw with pain. “Daemon is dead, and so is Aemond. Aegon is no longer fit to rule. You know it, Alicent. We’re fighting a war for a crown that no one truly wants anymore—not in the way it once mattered. The people starve, the dragons die, and for what? The Iron Throne is a curse, not a prize. Let there be peace. Let us find some measure of hope before it all crumbles to dust.”

His words hang heavy in the air, each one a plea, not just for your freedom, but for an end to the suffering that has stained this realm. Alicent looks away, tears glistening in her eyes as the truth of his words gnaws at her heart. 

Otto, however, is unmoved. “You would throw away every gain we’ve made for the whims of your heart? This woman’s marriage to Daemon was a slight to our family’s honor from the beginning. To accept her now would be to admit defeat.”

But before Gwayne can respond, Alicent raises a hand, silencing them both. Her voice is quiet, but it carries the full weight of her authority. “No, Father. Perhaps Gwayne is right. How much more can we lose before there is nothing left worth protecting?” Her gaze turns back to you, and for the first time, you see not just a queen, but a mother who has lost almost everything. “If there is a chance to end this, to save what remains of our families, then we must take it.”

Gwayne exhales shakily, relief flooding his features as he steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “Let me marry her, Alicent. Let this be the beginning of something better—something that might actually last.”

Alicent stares at you for a long, agonizing moment, weighing the choice before her. Then, finally, she nods, her voice laced with exhaustion. “Very well. The marriage will be sanctioned. But know this—if this decision leads to more chaos, more ruin, it will be on your head, Gwayne.”

Gwayne bows his head in gratitude, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, Sister.”

Cole steps back reluctantly, anger simmering in his eyes, but he knows better than to openly defy the queen. As the tension in the room finally begins to ease, Gwayne moves to your side, his fingers brushing against yours, a touch meant to ground you both after everything that has happened.

You meet his gaze, the storm of emotions within you barely held in check. This was not the path you envisioned, nor the life you had dreamed of, but it is the one before you now. And perhaps, in this fragile truce, there is a glimmer of hope—for your son, for Gwayne, and for the future you might yet carve from the ruins of war.

For now, you allow yourself the comfort of his presence, knowing that whatever comes next, you won’t face it alone.

The room is dimly lit, the flickering light of candles casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. The scent of roses and herbs wafts through the air as the servants bustle around you, their hands quick but gentle as they prepare your bath. You can barely focus on their movements; your mind is still spinning from the events of the day, from the jeers of the crowd to the cold fury in Otto’s eyes. Your body aches, the cuts and scrapes from being dragged through the streets stinging sharply with every brush of fabric against your skin.

When you finally lower yourself into the steaming water, a hiss escapes your lips as the heat bites into your wounds. You bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out, determined not to show even the smallest sign of weakness. The water slowly works its way into your muscles, easing some of the tension, but your thoughts remain a tangled mess. You think of Vaeron, of what he must be feeling, and of Gwayne—the man who risked everything for you, who still fights for you.

The sound of the door creaking open draws your attention. You glance up, expecting one of the servants, but instead, you see Gwayne. His presence fills the room, his eyes blazing with barely-contained anger. The servants freeze, their hands mid-task, exchanging nervous glances.

“Out,” Gwayne says, his voice low and commanding.

The servants hesitate, torn between obeying their orders and respecting the strict instructions they’ve been given by Otto. But Gwayne steps forward, his gaze hardening. “I said out,” he repeats, more sharply this time.

The authority in his voice leaves no room for argument. The servants bow hastily, gathering their things and scurrying out of the room, leaving you alone with him. The door closes behind them with a resounding thud, and the room suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker.

You watch Gwayne as he strides toward you, his expression softening as he takes in the sight of you in the bath. But there’s still a dark fury simmering beneath the surface, a quiet rage barely held in check. He kneels beside the tub, his eyes raking over your body, lingering on the cuts and bruises that mar your skin. His jaw tightens as he reaches out, his fingertips grazing a particularly nasty scrape on your arm.

“They did this to you,” he murmurs, his voice trembling with barely-suppressed anger. “Cole did this to you.”

You can see the guilt in his eyes, as if he blames himself for not being there, for not stopping it before it happened. You reach out and touch his hand, trying to reassure him, but the moment your skin meets his, something shifts between you. The air grows thick with tension, a tension that has been simmering for far too long.

“Gwayne,” you whisper, but it’s all you manage to say before the words are stolen from your lips by the intensity in his gaze.

Without a word, he leans forward, cupping your face with both hands, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. His touch is soft, almost reverent, but beneath it, you feel the tremor of barely-contained desire, of need and longing that has been held back for far too long. He moves closer, and you feel his breath against your lips, warm and ragged.

“I can’t bear seeing you like this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t stand knowing what they did to you, how they hurt you.” His eyes darken, his expression raw. “You deserve so much more. You deserve everything, and all they’ve ever given you is pain.”

His words are laced with a desperation that pulls at something deep within you. You’ve both suffered so much, sacrificed so much, and yet, here you are, still drawn to each other with a pull that’s stronger than duty or fear.

You don’t know who moves first—whether it’s you or him—but suddenly his lips are on yours, and the dam that’s held back your desire for so long shatters. The kiss is not soft or tentative; it’s fierce, fueled by months of longing and years of denied affection. His hands cradle your face, and you respond with equal fervor, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens, turning frantic, as if you’re both afraid that if you stop, the world will tear you apart again. You can taste the salt of your own tears mingling with his as he kisses you with a passion that’s almost overwhelming. Your bodies move of their own accord, and before you know it, you’re both reaching for each other with a desperate urgency.

Gwayne pulls back just enough to catch his breath, his eyes searching yours, filled with a hunger that leaves no room for hesitation. “Let me have you,” he breathes, his voice husky. “Let me show you how much I need you.”

You nod, the words caught in your throat, and he rises to his feet, his eyes never leaving yours as he sheds his cloak and begins to unlace his tunic. You watch, your heart pounding, as he strips away the layers, revealing the body you’ve longed for, the one that’s haunted your dreams. There’s no more hesitation, no more fear—only desire, raw and unbridled.

He steps closer, helping you out of the bath, his hands warm against your damp skin. You undress him as he guides you toward the bed, your hands trembling with anticipation. The kiss is reignited the moment you’re close enough, fiercer now, more demanding. There’s no gentleness this time—only a primal need to feel each other, to claim and be claimed.

When he finally presses you down onto the bed, there’s nothing slow or tender about the way he moves into you. It’s not like the times you’ve been together before, where every touch was measured, every caress deliberate. This time, it’s raw, almost rough, driven by months of pent-up desire and longing. He thrusts into you with a desperation that makes you gasp, your body arching beneath him as you cling to him, meeting each of his movements with your own.

It’s frantic, unrelenting—a tangle of limbs and fevered kisses as you both give in completely to the storm that’s been brewing between you. Every thrust is a declaration, every kiss a vow unspoken. There’s no room for words, only the sounds of your shared pleasure, the feel of his body against yours as he takes you with a hunger that has no end.

You’re both lost in it, in the release of everything you’ve held back for so long. The tension, the heartache, the desire—it all spills out in this moment, leaving you breathless, trembling with the intensity of it all. You give yourself over to him completely, letting him take you in every way you were once denied, and he meets you with the same fervor, as if he’s been starving for you.

And then, in the midst of it all, you reach your peak together, a wave of pleasure crashing over you both. The world narrows down to this single, perfect moment—where there is no war, no crowns or thrones—just the two of you, lost in each other.

Afterward, you collapse against him, both of you breathless, your hearts pounding in tandem. Gwayne wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He presses a lingering kiss to your hair, his fingers tracing lazy circles along your back.

“I should never have let you go,” he whispers, his voice filled with regret.

You lift your head, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, the world outside seems distant and unimportant. “You didn’t let me go,” you murmur, your fingers brushing over his lips. “We were both trapped by the choices others made for us. But now… now, we have a chance.”

His grip tightens around you, a silent vow in the way he holds you close. “I won’t let them hurt you again,” he promises, his voice low and fierce. “No matter what happens, you’ll never be alone. Not anymore.”

You close your eyes, letting yourself believe in that promise, even if it’s only for this fleeting moment.

[sweettoothy]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃

╰ SHOW ﹕ ARCANE !

︵ WARNING(S) ﹕╰ swearing ⸝ violence ﹕ sex

︵ relationship ﹕ Vi x fem!fragile!reader x Caitlyn

NOTE: here we areeee, I was very excited to do this chapter since we can get into what kinda powers (name) has ^^ omg first kisses?!?!? I hope y’all don’t mind the change.

⟣・S2・FINALLY GOT THE NAME RIGHT︰

THE MAN IN FRONT of you sneezes, you handed him one of your extra masks and looked around with curiosity— you knew not to wander off far since caitlyn was focused on finding jinx. Though you knew exactly why she wanted to find her, she was starting to act a little different towards both you and vi— which was…understandable of her since her mother had died but it wasn’t a good change, though.

“Thanks.” The man tells you thankfully. “I thought I was a goner.”

“You’re smeech’s man.” Vi spoke.

“Was.” The man corrects. “I--“ he sneezes again, covering his mouth. “Oh. I decided it was time for me to retire.”

“Looks more like someone decided to retire you.” Caitlyn retorts.

The man chuckles. “Yeah, well, timing was never my strong--“ he sneezes again. “Sorry. Sorry, it’s…it’s the grey. It gives me the--“ he sneezes again.

Caitlyn stepped forward threateningly. “Tell us how you wound up here.” she demanded, aiming her gun at him.

“Hey, wait, wait.” Heenot pleads. “Jinx is off the rails, even for her. She’s got a real fire lit up under her ass. she’s planning something big, right here in the pipe works.”

You moved the gun away from the man carefully, eyeing caitlyn with slight surprise.

“It is a pretty big place down here to do that.” You added.

Heenot grunts. “She was headed towards the old tunnels. Something about rerouting the vents.”

Caitlyn moved her finger away from the trigger, her face upturned into a scowl. “this is it, then. Cuff him.”

“Hey! I told you everything I know.” Heenot protests.

“You’re a confessed criminal. You’ll spend your retirement in a cell.” Caitlyn tells him, cocking her gun and tilting her head. “Check your gear. This is what we’ve trained for.”

Vi sighs, slowly walking near caitlyn, “can I get a minute? with you?” she asks you.

Caitlyn slowly turns around, seeing you and vi standing there with unsure looks. Avoiding caitlyn’s gaze you nodded and followed vi.

YOU SET YOUR WEAPON aside as you leaned against the railing inside the tunnel, tucking some of your (h/c) hair behind your ear as you gazed at a saddened but determined vi, her head lowered as she shifted her feet.

“We should cut the others loose.” Vi tells you, her eyes landing on yours as she sees you gasp quietly before speaking.

“Listen..if that heenot man is telling the truth, we may need all the help we can get, vi.” You whisper to her softly, only loud enough for her to hear.

Vi shakes her head. “She’ll smell their nerves a mile away and find a way to use them against us.” she informs you, “tell me I’m wrong.”

You were think about it, blinking a few times. maybe she was right— and she was. jinx probably wouldn’t hesitate to kill you, and as many times as vi told you to stay away from the blue haired girl it was like you would get caught in the crossfire every time.

“You know cait,” You spoke. “She won’t let jinx get away again without a doubt. she’s dead set on getting her. are you sure you’re even ready to--?”

Vi interrupts you. “(Name) she almost killed you. and it’s like everyone I care about either ends up dying or changing-- I can’t let that happen. my sister is gone. there’s only jinx now. It has to end.”

You knew this was hurting her, having to do this. but it was only now or later— because ending it all later would be too late.

Vi looks at your bandaged arm, “I am so sorry about your arm. I’m sorry I can’t fix it-- but please just…everyone in my life has changed. promise me you won’t change, you or caitlyn.”

Tears escape and cascade down her eyes as a gentle sob racked her throat.

Walking towards her you reached out your hand and cupped her cheek, going onto your tippy toes to kiss the tear away. Vi took a glance down at your lips before she began to lean in, you doing the same.

Vi fully leaned in and pressed her lips against yours, your lips molding against hers in a perfect melody. Vi then feels you pull away, your (e/c) eyes looking into hers again.

“I promise.” You whisper softly, nuzzling your nose against hers. “I won’t.”

Vi drops her gauntlets and suddenly her hands are wrapping around the small of your waist as she lifts you up into her arms with ease, her hands finding their way to your ass as she gives it a gentle squeeze, the kiss deepening from there as the two of you continued kissing.

This felt nice.

When vi pulls away, she sets you down. “Not bad for your first kiss, huh?”

“Hey! you did it first! I just finished it.” You winked before your watch started beeping, “huh…Jayce wants me to meet up with him. can you and cait do this alone?” you ask.

Vi nods in reply. “Yeah, yeah. I’d rather you be somewhere safe other than here.”

HEADING INSIDE JAYCE’S office, you see a younger male sitting with him, making you tilt your head in curiosity, “this is ekko?” You asked with a warm smile. Ekko seemed unsure whether to trust you but the smile made him ease a bit.

“What’s the topic?” You asked while sitting down, crossing your leg over the other as you leaned your cheek against your palm.

“Hextech.” Jayce replies. “Viktor hypothesized that there may be something he called ‘wild runes’. patterns that occur naturally where the border between our world and the arcane is thin.”

“Runes like the ones you use in hextech.” Ekko replies, leaning his head against his hand. “What’s the difference between those and wild runes?”

“Pass me a tome.” Jayce tells him.

Ekko slides the book over to him.

“So I used words you understood in order to elicit your action.” Jayce explains. “This is what hextech runs are.”

“Pass me a tome.” Jayce tells you this time.

You grabbed the book and handed it to him.

“Pass me a tome.” He says once more.

You let out a frustrated sigh, throwing the book his way.

“There! you sighed. still a kind of language.” Jayce says. “A sound, but not words. something raw. natural. that’s wild runes. most places, the arcane is dormant, but here and there, it’s more active. and wild runes are--“

“Sort of like its fingerprints.” Ekko finishes.

“Exactly.” Jayce nods in agreement.

Your brows furrowed. “Wait wait-- you mean to tell me you-- by using so much of the hextech you’re basically pissing off the arcane?”

“That’s-- that’s not what I--“ Jayce stammered as he avoided your gaze.

“Ooh, she may be onto something. every action sparks a reaction.” Heimerdinger says, accidentally dropping something on the ground. “Oh, ball sockets.”

Ekko chuckles when he sees this.

“Do you think this could actually be a result of overuse of hextech?” Jayce asks you, maybe it was true…using way too much hextech always made you wonder what would happen.

“That’s the only reason.” You answer, leaning back in your seat as you pondered the idea of what could happen. “I mean..I don’t use it, but if I did I probably would overuse it and not even know. everything has its limits.”

“We tested our hextech under every conceivable condition for years.” Jayce says. “If there’s some reaction taking place, how come we’ve never seen any sign of it until now? and why would it appear on a tree, deep underground?”

You and Jayce share a look.

“WHAT IS THIS PLACE?” YOU ASKED with curiosity as you sat down your bag, walking next to heimerdinger who looked around.

“I thought the gemstone mesh was installed above ground.” Ekko says.

“Me too..” you added with narrowed eyes.

“The mesh is above ground, but we weren’t sure what would happen if the gate overloaded, so we installed a failsafe at the base.” Jayce explains, you crossed your arms over your chest, still unsure about the whole thing.

“So instead of it exploding in your neighborhood, it would blow up in ours.” Ekko retorts.

Jayce turns to him. “We’re miles from the main fissures.”

“These are the same utility ducts that carry our water,” Ekko tells him. “And facilitate our ventilation. and that would explain it affecting the tree.”

“Inconceivable.” You hear heimerdinger say.

“That..that doesn’t explain--“ You paused, wondering if becoming an enforcer was really what you wanted in the first place.

“You know, you say we should feel like we’re all one people.” Ekko continues. “But whenever it rains, we’re the ones that get wet--“

His voice echoed as the scenery in the room changed to something completely different, you blinked a few times, eyes landing on what was in front of you.

“What the…” Jayce trails off confusedly, looking around himself.

The entire room was white, dull, like it was full of nothing.

“Is that..a wild rune?” Ekko questioned, your gazed landed on the wild rune in front of you.

“I have no idea what that is.” Jayce added.

All four of you stood in front of whatever the glowing ball was in front of you, you stepped back, eyes widening a bit. “No way.”

Weirdly enough the rune starts affecting your hair, the edge of the strands beginning to change colors. Jayce reaches forward begins to touch it.

“Ow!” You flinched away from the rune, whatever you just felt rush into your skin made it hurt a thousand times worse than your hair.

“Jayce, stop touching it!” You shouted at him.

But Jayce doesn’t hear you.

The world felt like it was spinning before you turned towards him, a chill runs down your spine as your bottom lip trembled. “Hello..?”

You felt yourself collapse, the air in your lungs beginning to fade. Jayce touches the rune, you clutched your head, starting to hear whispers from every side of you. “Stop, stop, stop!”

Whatever you were hearing didn’t want to stop, it’s like they enjoyed antagonizing you.

The world around you was starting to look different.

“Ekko! Jayce!” You shout again. “Anyone?!”

Silence.

Something blasts you in your chest, knocking you back as blood falls down your nose.

Then it fades to black.

END OF CHAPTER THREE

[heytheredelulu]

ready to comply part 2? 👉👈

As you wish!

I may have left this one on a cliff hanger as well. 🫣

I’M SORRY! I was just having so much fun I had to leave it open in case there was interest for a part three. ❤️

Ready to Comply - Part Two

Requested by @littleone2001

Soldat!Bucky Barnes x PlusSized!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

C/W: Language, discussion/implications of violence and murder, gun play (sorry, not sorry), unprotected sex, rough sex, a lil boob slap (once, because I had to), spanking, fingering (f receiving), anal fingering (f receiving), brief discussion of kidnapping/making reader his sex slave

✏️ A/N at the end.

“All I can smell is how wet you are.”

Oh fuck.

You muster up a small, broken sound from your chest when the realization finally hits you that your desire is overwhelming Bucky’s senses to the point that he’s struggling just to think.

“I-“

His fingers hook beneath the saturated fabric of your panties, his fingers grazing against your folds and igniting a heat in your body that sets your nerves on fire.

He tears them away, reducing them to a tattered rag in his fist which he brings to his nose and inhales deeply before he discards them to the floor with a growl.

He forces your thick thighs apart, spreading you open with his trembling fingers to observe your tight, wet hole as it clenches desperately around nothing.

“Fuck!”

His breath catches in his chest and he stumbles back, withdrawing the gun from his shoulder holster and brandishing it at you.

Your eyes widen as you snap your legs shut, raising your hands defensively and shrinking back in horror.

Bucky steps forward and presses the barrel of the gun against your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I’m sorry.” He chokes out.

“You’re going to kill me.” You whisper, fear taking hold as your eyes screw shut and a tear slips down your cheek.

He shakes his head slowly, tracing the cool metal of his weapon along your jawline. “No, I ain’t gonna kill you. Not yet.”

Your eyes open, your expression twisting into one of confusion. “Then why.. why are you sorry?”

He sets his jaw, lifting his left hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Because I’m gonna hurt you.” He rasps.

Your brows knit in concern. “What do y-“

Bucky cuts you short, replying only by dipping his gun between your legs, pressing it firmly against your bare, weeping cunt.

Your entire body seizes in terror but as he drags the cool, hard weapon along your slick folds, the fear gives way to something else entirely.

“You don’t wanna hurt me..” You say slowly, carefully, biting back a moan as the barrel of the gun grazes across your clit.

“But I do.” He taunts, pulling the gun away and gripping your jaw with bruising force. He presses it to your mouth, your slick coating the metal and wetting your bottom lip. “Open.” He growls, leaving you little choice with how hard he’s holding your chin. He forces the gun into your mouth, your eyes wide in apprehension. “Suck.” He demands, pressing it down on your tongue. You swirl your tongue around it, tasting yourself on the bitter metal. He groans, withdrawing it harshly from your mouth with a string of spittle and tucking it back into its holster.

“I’m gonna fuck you. And it’s gonna hurt.” He mutters, his calloused fingers moving to unbuckle his belt.

“Bucky y-“ He pinches your cheeks together painfully in his metal hand, effectively silencing you.

“Quit fuckin’ calling me that!” He snaps, using his grip on your jaw to yank you forward to him.

“Soldat.” He corrects in a menacing tone, nodding your head for you to ensure you understood.

“That is my name. I suggest you remember it, because you’re about to be screaming it.”

He releases your face harshly, reaching to pull his hard, thick cock from his jeans and spitting into his palm. He curls his hand around his impressive length and pumps himself lazily from base to tip, rubbing his thumb roughly over the slit and smearing beads of precum along his shaft to mingle with his saliva.

Your eyes follow every stroke of his hand as he closes in on you, your brain working to comprehend just how in the hell your body was going to accommodate his size.

He’s right. This is going to hurt.

He clutches the neckline of your dress with his free hand, ripping and tearing the fabric until you’re bared to him and he kneads at your breast roughly pinching the pebbled flesh of your nipple harshly between his fingers, drawing a small cry from you.

“Buc-“ You stammer.

He slaps your tit hard and you wince from the sting as it radiates across the tender flesh of your ample breast.

“Soldat.” He growls through clenched teeth, hiking your legs to rest your heels on his shoulders and tilting your pelvis upwards as he lines himself up with your aching entrance.

You suck in a sharp breath as the crown of his cock breeches your tight, wet hole and you writhe underneath him against the sting as he splits you open, stretching your cunt and filling you in a way you’ve never experienced.

A shameless moan erupts from your throat when he begins to snap his hips, fucking into you with a merciless rhythm. What was once pain is quickly building into pleasure and your back arches up off the desk.

“So fucking tight.” He grunts, his heavy sack swinging with every deep thrust into your dripping cunt. His jaw clenches and he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs, spreading you wider as he tucks his chin to watch himself disappear into your wet heat with a predatory gaze.

Pleasure builds in your abdomen and you rock your hips to meet his hungry thrusts, biting down on your bottom lip as his thick cock massages your inner walls. The corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s biting back a smirk when he registers you eagerly moving in sync with him. He snakes a hand down between you, tracing his fingers along the girth of his cock where he’s filling you and gathers your slick along his fingertips, raising his hand and spreading his fingers to admire the sheen of your wetness with a thoughtful expression.

Without warning he withdraws, leaving you desperate and empty when he lets your right leg drop and curls his hand around your left ankle, flipping you hard onto your stomach. He grabs your hips and yanks you backwards towards him so you’re bent over your desk with the lip of it biting into your pelvis. He delivers a harsh smack to your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hand, then dipping his head down to suck a bruise into the skin before biting down hard into your plump cheek. You yelp and raise yourself up on your palms, but Bucky splays a large, calloused hand across your back, forcing you back down and kicking your legs wider with the toe of his boot.

He plunges two fingers in your thoroughly fucked hole, coating them in your arousal before withdrawing them and sinking his cock back into your swollen cunt. Strangled noises of pleasure catch in your throat and you push your hips back greedily to meet him, your walls throbbing around him as ruts into you, his balls slapping against your clit and sending shockwaves through you with every brutal thrust.

He spreads your ass cheeks roughly, teasing his wet index finger along your backside, circling your puckered hole and causing you to squirm. He presses into you, working his finger in sync with his hips, massaging it into you until you manage to take him to the knuckle and he lets out a satisfied groan that you nearly drown out in your own wanton moan.

“Fuck.” He rasps out, pain blooming as he moves to add a second finger. You cry out at the intrusion, your hands clenching into fists above your head and your nails biting into your palms as he rocks his fingers into you, scissoring you open.

You thought you’d been full when it was only his cock but fuck, were you wrong.

It was too much.

It was too good.

The tension wound tight in your abdomen finally snaps and you completely shatter.

A choked sob rips from your throat and your pussy spasms, your walls fluttering around his cock and your asshole contracting around his fingers as you scream, your orgasm tearing through you with enough force to make your head spin and your ears ring.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He slips his fingers from your tight hole, grabbing hold of your hips with both hands and slamming into you with unrelenting force, fucking you through each wave of euphoria as they crashed over you in succession.

“I’m gonna tell them I killed you.” He grunts, his cock kissing your cervix. “So no one will ever come looking for you.”

You mumble incoherently, tears of ecstasy staining your cheeks as you lay limp in the wake of your earth shattering release while he continues to pound into you at a steady pace.

“I think I’ll keep you tied to my bed.” He whispers in a menacing tone, his thrusts growing frantic as he chases his impending orgasm. “I’m gonna fuck every hole in your body, every day, until you can’t fucking take it anymore.”

Bucky snaps his hips forward in one last powerful thrust and then stills, shouting a string of curses as his cock pulses and he pulls your plump ass flush to his pelvis, emptying himself deep inside of you.

He tilts his head back, his chest rising and falling erratically and then pulls out, staggering back as you rise up and turn to face him with flushed cheeks and hair slicked against your sweaty forehead.

“Get dressed.” He orders, tugging his jeans up and fastening his belt. “You’re coming with me.”

You nod and move on weak knees, feeling his cum slowly leaking from your cunt as you gather your blazer. He watches you carefully as you pull it on, buttoning it in an attempt to cover your naked body.

Bucky holds out his hand impatiently and you take it, cautiously moving closer to him, your thighs sticky as they rub together with every step you take.

You place a palm flat against his chest and he looks down at you with his brows furrowed in confusion at your gentle gesture before you rise up on your tiptoes, pressing your mouth against his. He stiffens momentarily but quickly reciprocates, his tongue teasing at your bottom lip in a silent demand to deepen the kiss. You comply, moving your tongue slowly against his in a sensual dance and tracing your hands along his broad chest as you lean further into him.

When you break the kiss abruptly and step back out of his embrace, he blinks in bewilderment before his face contorts into rage as he registers that he’s staring into the barrel of his own gun.

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@littleone2001 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe

A/N: My husband gave me so much shit for this while I was writing it: tHiS iSnT cAnOn, BuCkY wOuLdNt Do ThAt, iT dOeSnT mAkE sEnSe

Look, I know. It’s a fanfic, it’s AU, it’s not canon.

Anyway, now I’m really anxious about posting this, worried that it won’t meet your expectations. So I hope you enjoy so I can tell my husband to suck it. 😈

💋Sj

[moonstruckme]

CONGRATULATIONS ON 7K MAE THAT’S AMAZING YAYAYAYAYAYAYA 😭 could i please have an apple pie with sirius and prompt 27? 💖

Of course you can!

²⁷⁾ sirens at midnight 

neighbor!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 528 words

You spot Sirius as soon as he comes outside, though you tell yourself you weren’t looking for him. He’s got a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his hair is disheveled and poofy. He squints in the streetlight, looking through the sea of your neighbors until he finds you, too. 

You wave lamely. 

He makes his way over. The fire alarm from your apartment building is nearly deafening even outside. Even when Sirius is right in front of you, you have to raise your voice to be heard. 

“Glad to see you’re not charred beyond recognition.” 

“I tried to go back to sleep for awhile,” Sirius replies. “I hoped it might shut up. Who set it off?” 

You shake your head, pulling your coat tighter around you as the wind picks up. You’re only wearing your pajamas underneath, much like everyone else here. “I don’t know.” 

Sirius pulls his blanket closer, too, glowering all your neighbors around you. “I’m gonna kill them.” 

“Oh.” You can’t find it in you to be surprised, but you do yawn, covering your mouth with a hand. “I don’t know how you’d have the energy.” 

“I’ll find it.” Sirius joins you, leaning against the side of your building. 

“When do you think they’ll let us back in?” you ask.

He groans. “It’ll probably be forever. The fire department has to come, and they have to sweep everything…I may as well go in to work now.” 

“Dressed like that?” 

Sirius gives you a sideways grin. “They’re lucky I come in at all. And if the blanket slips a bit, it’ll probably just earn me some extra tips.” 

You laugh. “Are you not wearing pajamas underneath?” 

“I’m wearing my pajamas. Some of us choose more modesty in bed than others, gorgeous.” 

Your face heats ferociously, but the silence that lapses between you isn’t uncomfortable. You watch your neighbors try to calm frenetic pets, swap coats and coverings against the chill, fall asleep on each other while sitting on the curb. Despite the wailing of the alarm, your own eyelids start to feel heavy again. 

When it finally cuts out, your relief is so immense you drop your head to Sirius’ shoulder without a thought. 

“Thank god,” you mumble. 

“What was that?” Sirius teases. “My ears are still ringing.” 

In the new silence, you hear sirens approaching. Red lights glow in the distance. 

“That’ll be the fire crew,” he says. You realize your head is still on his shoulder, and you lift it to find Sirius looking at you. He seems more awake than he had been. “Do you want to get out of here for a while? We could grab a coffee and wait them out.” 

“Is anywhere even open right now?” 

“Absolutely.” He gestures down the block with his chin. “That cafe there? Open twenty four hours a day, just for us.” 

“Nice of them. Are you okay to go like that?” you ask, though you’re already walking with him. 

“What, like this?” Sirius spreads his arms halfway open, giving you a brief view of his tattooed chest and boxers. “Sweetness, I might even get us a free meal. Don’t worry about me.” 

[aewon]

GIVE UP HEAVEN

park sunghoon x fmr genre: fluff warnings: kissing wc: 786

Sunghoon doesn’t know what it is. What it is about you that makes his heart tighten in his chest whenever he thinks about you. What it is that makes him sweat whenever you’re near. What it is that makes him think you’re an angel that’s fallen directly from heaven.

He can’t explain it, but he doesn’t need to. All he knows is that you make him feel good, great even.

When you laugh at one of his jokes, funny or not, he feels like that gif of bugs bunny with heart eyes.

When you touch him, it lights a fire under his skin.

So why are you still just a friend? Why hasn’t he gotten the courage to confess yet? 

His friends keep telling him you like him back, that neither of you are subtle. But something is holding him back. 

The fear of rejection? The fear that it was all made up and in his head? 

Whatever. Fear be damned. He needs to know what it’s like to feel your lips on his. To hold you, to feel your touch in ways more than just passing.

He needs it. He craves it. 

When he finds himself on your doorstep at 12 in the morning, he thinks he’s gone crazy.

Perhaps this was part of a plan, one he didn’t even know about. 

You had mentioned earlier in school how your parents were out of town.

So, he knows he doesn’t have any angry parents to deal with.

When the door opens, you stand there in all your glory. Wearing a baby pink pajama set with matching slippers, your hair braided, and a look of everlasting confusion on your beautiful face.

“Sunghoon? What are you doing here?”

“The real question is, why did you open the door so easily? What if I was a serial killer?”

You can’t help but chuckle, “I looked in the peephole silly.”

Oh. Duh. Now he feels just a wee bit stupid. 

“Anyway, I’m here for you.”

Your smile doesn’t falter, warm and inviting, “What about me?”

He takes his hand out from behind him, a singular, thornless rose in it. He was very careful to make sure it was safe for you to hold. 

“Here,” he says, holding it out to you.

You don’t hesitate to take it, bringing it up to your nose to smell.

“It’s beautiful, Sunghoon, but what’s it for?”

He clears his throat, the monologue he practiced in front of his mirror and in the car fresh in his mind.

“I like you, Y/N. So much, it… it almost makes my heart hurt how much I like you. I like, or rather love, everything about you. I love your smile and your laugh. You laugh at my jokes even when no one else does.” 

He takes a deep breath before continuing. “ I love your personality. It matches so well with mine. I love how kind and caring you are. I love how your nose scrunches when you concentrate on something, and how you sometimes stare into space. I love your eyes, your nose, your lips. I think about them all the time. I think about what it would be like to hold you. To kiss you. You drive me crazy, in the best way.”

He knows he’s twiddling his thumbs like a loser, holding his hands clasped together in front of him, not brave enough to look at you.

“I know you may not feel the same, and that’s okay. But I had to tell you before I literally imploded.”

He finishes his monologue, breathing almost heavy and finally looks up at you.

Sunghoon’s eyes widen as he observes the tears rolling down your cheeks.

Without warning, you step forward, pulling him close to you by his loose t-shirt, and pressing your lips against his.

Sunghoon doesn’t remember the last time he kissed someone, but that doesn’t mean he forgot how to.

He responds immediately, hands coming up to rest on your waist.

Your lips move in sync with his. It’s passionate in a way he’s never felt with anyone else.

You pull away first, and it takes everything in him not to chase your lips.

“I’m sorry for making you wait. It must’ve been agonizing. Sunghoon, no one has ever made me feel the way you do. The way I drive you crazy, you do the same to me. I’ve never wanted someone so badly.”

Is this real? Should he pinch himself?

“Really?”

“Really.” You nod. “You’re mine now, Park Sunghoon. And I’m never letting you go.”

His smile reaches his eyes and you peck his lips once more. 

“Stay with me tonight?” You ask.

He nods, vigorously, “You don’t even have to ask.”

AEWON 2024

HAPPY SUNGHOON DAY!!