#why do you care what they look like????????????

[nezuscribe]

(previous part)

it's been a week since you've spoken to arranged!gojo, and he feels like he's about to start going crazy.

you don't speak during your meals, not even when he addresses you in a question. sometimes you spare him a glance, but he'd still rather see your icy glare than see nothing at all.

and he knows he fucked up. he knows that you seeing him alone with anya was perhaps the worst possible place you could’ve caught him, but he's been almost begging you to listen to him, to hear his side. but every time he goes to explain you leave abruptly, leaving him alone, feeling the looks of pity from those around the two of you.

and you know you're being petty. after all, the two of you are only bound by words, nothing else. if anything, the two of you were just becoming friends, so this shouldn't hurt you as much as it does.

but you hear the whispers of the ladies, hear of their secret proposals of how gojo would surely bed them if they just asked. how miserable he must be trapped with you, how this marriage is ruining his life. and you know anya, know about her history with him. before you were his wife you were the higher echelon wallflower, listening to all the gossip, observing from afar.

you've gathered some ideas in your head as to why he might want to speak with you. perhaps he wants to gently break the news that he's found a mistress, one that he actually loves. or that maybe he's already had one and now you know why he's been so secretive.

so the more he tries to talk to you, the more you pull away. you don't know why he cares so much, why this even matters to him. if anything, you feel like he should be content with your silence.

but he's not, and gojo grows more restless by the hour.

he decides he can't live like this anymore. tonight he's going to make you listen to him, even if you want nothing to do with him.

you're holed up in your room, talking with alina as she dabs lavender oil on your neck before you go to sleep. you know she knows about your silence with gojo, but ever friend, she does nothing to bring it up.

well, she wouldn't have to if he didn't come knocking feverishly at your door.

you watch in your mirror as she peeks her head out, her gasp of surprise causing a sinking pit to form in your stomach. you can hear how she scrambles with the titles of my lord, how she explains that you're nearly about to go to sleep.

it's late, the only light is the flickering of the candles on your nightstand. he should be asleep by now.

gods, you wonder for the millionth time this week, why does he care so much?

alina finishes up, closing the door slightly as she turns to you, her eyes finding yours in the mirror.

"i'm sorry my lady," she bows her head almost apologetically, "but my lord wants to talk to you. he's requested me to leave...if you'll excuse me," she bows, quickly leaving, not giving you any time to actually excuse her. you know she can't stay any longer, but you do wish she put up more of a fight. you watch her skirt bustle away, the door being left slightly ajar.

you try to act nonchalant, continuing to dab the oil onto your wrists as you look down, even when you hear the door click shut, even when you can feel his presence several feet behind you.

you sigh through your nose, heat rising to your cheeks.

"what?" you bite out, your own voice shocking you. you want to get this over with, not too desperate to hear about how he's ready to take on a mistress and shun you away.

you can hear him take in a deep breath, your eyes briefly looking up in the mirror to catch his, the same ones that make your knees weak, and avert your gaze.

"you haven't spoken to me in over a week," he says after a beat of silence.

you shrug indifferently, despite the fact that he could probably ask you the specific amount of hours it's been since the two of you had talked and you'd give an accurate number.

"i've been busy," you murmur, taking your earrings off as you place them gently in the little glass bowl to the side.

he doesn't say anything about your blatant lie, just nods slowly, as if he understands.

"i missed hearing you talk," gojo tells you quietly, almost as if his voice had been stuck in his throat, and you wonder if any man before him had ever tried to sweet talk his wife before he told her about his new mistress.

you don't say anything, still refusing to look at him as you stand up from your seat, turning off one of the candles near you as you smooth out some of the wrinkles of your nightgown.

"is this what you really want to tell me gojo?" you say bluntly, looking to the side momentarily, getting a longer look at his bulky figure, how he tries to make himself seem smaller, "that you miss my stupid jokes and dull stories?"

"they're not stupid," he quickly cuts in, his voice a little stronger, brows furrowed, "and i like your stories."

you roll your eyes, moving around the bed, to the side where he's not, and fluff your pillows. you've never found this useful, but it gives you something to do with your hands other than fidgeting with them.

truth be told, you're reflecting. you're scared of what it is he has to say, and so you try to appear stronger, and less caring, despite the fact that it's tearing you apart.

you try not to feel self-conscious of the fact that this is his first time ever seeing your room, or the fact that it's so bland. you didn't come to this estate with many things, and so you've tried to spruce up the space as much as you can, but aside from the few flowers and paintings on the wall, you fear it looks bland compared to everything else he's seen.

"and no," gojo adds, running a hand through his already tousled white hair as his arms crossed over his chest, and you finally allow yourself to stare at him, "that's not all i wanted to say."

he paused for a second.

"i don't know why i followed her out, or why i even stayed to hear her speak, but she kept saying these things about..." he trails off, gnawing on his lips as your eyes narrow slightly.

"me?" you finish for him, and his eyes dart to yours.

gojo nods a little bit, arms bulging a little bit as if remembering what she had said.

"i'm used to people staring at me, i lived with it my entire life. but with you, people..." he struggles to find words, "people stare longer. and i don't know why."

you raise a brow.

"do you want me to explain?" you say and he looks at you briefly, almost in a brazen way.

he shakes his head as if he had steered off track.

"that's beside the point. what i wanted to tell you is that she...she was saying some nonsense and i was about to leave until she offered for me to stay at the hostelry she was at." his blue eyes are wavering, his finger itching to get closer to you. this stupid bed is in the middle of you two and he wishes it were gone.

your breathing hitches a little bit, and you hope he doesn't see the sad tilt on your lips.

"so i banished her. or, well, i guess you saw her and then i banished her, but i would've done it regardless," he explains hurriedly, "look, i'm sorry...really sorry. if you want me to-"

"you banished her?" you cut him off, voice raised slightly in confusion.

his mouth gapes open for a second, and then blinks slowly, nodding.

"of...course," he tilts his head, his gorgeous head, slightly "you know that i am married, right? to you? she was offering to-"

"i thought you were going to tell me that you slept with her. o-or i don't know! that you were going to make her your mistress or something!" you spew out, your voice raised as you pace around the floor, moving a little bit closer to him as his eyes widen.

"why would you ever think that?" gojo says in a panicked tone, nothing like the man who commanded the northern army, but more like somebody who was watching his world burn in front of him.

"why?" you exclaim, shocked, "why? are you daft? every single woman wants to sleep with you! every single time we host those dinners, o-or we go to those parties, they look at you and they look at me and they pity you. i hear the whispers of the ladies, how they wouldn't mind being the other woman."

gojo hears the way your voice wavers, how your lips tremble, and the way you try not to let your bottom lip quiver. he sees the way you try to stay strong, to keep your image unbridled, but right now he feels like he's watching you break and he doesn't know what to do.

"so? what makes you think i'd do anything with them?" gojo argues, his voice raised a little bit, not in shouting, but in genuine disbelief.

you take a moment to step back and observe his behavior, and a nagging voice in your head tells you that he's telling you the truth. that he's concerned and worried, that maybe all he came to tell you tonight was an apology.

but that can't be correct.

so you sigh, your arms crossed over your chest protectively.

"i...i don't know," you murmur, "you sleep in another wing, you're always away. i thought...maybe..." you can't meet his eyes, fidgeting with the ring on your finger.

gojo takes a step forward, lips parted, cheeks rosy and flushed.

the two of you don't say anything for a minute, his chest heaving up and down. you feel like there's a weight both removed and added onto your shoulder.

"why didn't you say anything?" he whispers, "did you think...did you think i was...?" he can't finish the sentence, the words themselves too gruesome.

he doesn't say anything as he takes another tentative step closer.

you watch him, your eyes mirroring one another.

"i made a vow to you," his voice is heavy, traveling across the spanning stone walls, going deep into your bones, "and even if you prefer me to be your friend, i'll keep to that vow till the day i die."

your eyes gloss over, lips trembling.

you don't say anything, taking a couple steps forward as you smash against his chest, face crumpling against the stone wall of his torso as you hug him tightly, hoping that he can't feel the tears that seep through his nightshirt.

never in your life has somebody made a promise to you. and never in your life has somebody kept to that promise.

"thank you," you murmur, your voice muffled as his arms wrap around your body, steady and strong.

"and anyways, i'd prefer to be married to you than those miserable women any day," he mumbles into your hair and you laugh wetly, squeezing your arms tighter.

"really?" you say, tears blurring your vision.

"really," he hums, not able to say anything because he fears what you'd say if he told you that he'd rather be your husband and your friend. but he'd keep that inside, respecting your wishes.

if only he knew you wished the same.

[starkeysbunny]

tears [rafe cameron]

pairing - rafe cameron x reader

summary - rafe was a busy man. but, when his girl knocked on the doors of tannyhill with tears streaming down her cheeks—nothing was more important than her. and he’d fix whatever was bothering her. or whoever. he hated to see his girl cry.

warnings - none rlly, hurt/comfort, protective and attentive rafe

rafe sighed into his phone call when he heard a knock on the door. he stood in his father’s office—which was now his—pacing the room.

“hey, hey man, just hang on a sec, sorry.” he muttered to the potential investor before he put him on hold. he set his phone down on the desk and marched out of the office, curses and mumbles leaving his lips.

“somebody always fuckin’ needs something.” his hand rubs over his buzzed hair as his other hand curls in and out of a fist at his side. “goddamn. probably fuckin’ sarah and her stupid—“

his mumbles come to a halt when he opens the door and sees his girl standing there, tears staining her flushed cheeks. “rafe..” she whispers weakly, her frame shaking as she looks up at him.

“hey, hey, baby.” he says quickly, completely forgetting the phone call waiting for him as all his attention, worry, and concern is shifted to her. “what’s wrong, c’mere.”

his hand reaches for her wrist, pulling her into his chest. she lets out a quiet sob as she buries her face into his chest, stepping inside. he haphazardly pushes the door shut as he keeps her close to his chest and walks them both inside and through the foyer.

he whispers shh’s, and coos at her in his arms as he heads for the living room, sitting them both down. he softly pulls her from his chest, his head dipping down to her level. his hands come to her cheeks, wiping the tears off her soft skin.

“hey, baby, what happened? talk to me.” he says, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“i-i-“ she stammers, unable to get words out as she chokes on cries. her breathing quickens, getting close to hyperventilating. when she cries, she goes too fast, losing control of her breathing.

“hey, hey, no. don’t do that. c’mon baby, you know better. breathe, baby, breathe.”

she begins to slow down, her breathing coming back to normal. she keeps her eyes on rafe’s, slowly calming down.

“there ya go. atta’ girl. good job. breathe.” he praises, his head nodding softly as he watches her. once her breathing fully calms, she takes one last deep breath and wipes the last of her tears.

“now, gonna tell me what’s got your pretty little head so worried, hm?” he coos, his head tilting slightly. “what’s bothering you? who do i have to kill, huh?” he jokes with a grin. but to be honest—he probably wasn’t joking.

she sniffles, her eyebrows furrowing. “my uterus.” she whines. “i’m on my period. my cramps hurt like a bitch. and my mom is pissing me off.” she sniffles, stumbling over her words slightly. “and i’m hungry. and you weren’t answering, i know you’re busy. but i just really needed to see you, i’m sorry—“

“hey, hey, it’s okay.” he nods softly. “i’m here, it’s alright. i’m not busy, doesn’t matter.” he says matter-of-factly. he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. “what do you need? hm? i have that heating pad in my room i bought for you a couple months ago.” he whispers sweetly. “i can make you somethin? buy you stuff? i dunno, what do you need?”

he was willing to do anything, he didn’t care. when his baby cried, he’d move mountains to make her feel better. he’d go to every store in town, run up his credit card, do anything. as long as she got a smile on her face at the end of it.

she nods against his chest, looking up at him. “yeah.. the heating pad. and—and can you make me a grilled cheese? you make em’ so good.” she asks sweetly, her voice gentle and weak.

he smiles softly, looking down at the sweet girl in his arms. “yeah, baby, of course. i don’t know if they’re that good. everytime i make them, you’re usually drunk and it’s three in the morning. that might be why they taste so good.” he jokes.

she shoves his chest playfully. “i don’t care, you can’t fuck up a grilled cheese. please?”

he grins. “yeah, yeah. grilled cheese, heating pad. got it, baby. anything else?” he says thoughtfully, his fingers coming to push strands of hair off from where they stick to her tear strained cheeks.

she shakes her head. “just you.”

he smiles. “okay.” he kisses her forehead. “i’ll be right back, gimmie a few minutes to get all that.” he stands, making sure she’s laid comfortably on the couch. he grabs the blanket from the end of the couch and drapes it over her. his eyes search the living room, landing in the remote, he hands it to her.

he leans down, placing another kiss to her cheek this time. “put on whatever you want. i’ll be back, promise.”

he leaves her at the couch and heads back to the office. he picks up his phone and takes it off hold. “hey, gotta go. somethin’ came up. i’ll give you a call later.” he hung up before the guy could even get a word in.

nothing came before his girl.

[buckyalpine]

Warnings: 18+ dub con, smut, Dark Bucky, breeding kinks. I want some Dark twin Bucky. Jealous twin Bucky. Manipulative, sexy, mob boss twisted Bucky. His brother James is everything good, everything wholesome, everything perfect. James had everything in life, the nicest house, a respectable job, the sweetest wife. Oh, how sweet his wife was.

Bucky couldn’t care less for the perfect reputation his brother had nor did he care for the money, he had so much more. More power. More control. The only thing his brother had that he wanted for himself was you. His brother didn't value or care for you for what you were worth, always working, focused on business, leaving you in the large house all by yourself. Bucky would have never. Not if he had you.

Loving, gentle, soft as silk.

Pure, untainted, everything he wasn't.

He had to have you.

"Babydoll"

You smiled hearing your husband enter your shared bedroom as you got out of the shower, wrapping a fluffy towel around yourself before going to greet him. He sat at the edge of the bed with a knowing smirk, shamelessly eyeing you up and down like he always did, your cheeks heating up under his watchful stare. You loved how much he adored you. He strode over, humming at the scent of your body wash, his nose trailing up the column of your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin, his hands wandering to the edge of your towel.

"Miss me, baby?" He pulled it off, letting it pool to the floor leaving you bare before him, picking you up and laying on on the mattress, you were so perfect, pliant, he could already smell your arousal, your nipples pebbled against the cold air begging for his warm mouth.

"moy kotenok" He purred, nipping at your earlobe, your brows knitting in confusion, he never spoke Russian to you, only his brother-

“James?” You squeak, your heart starting to beat rapidly, blood running cold. This wasn’t your husband. You tried to scramble away, cover yourself but he grabbed your wrists in his hand, pinning them above your head. You then noticed the dark ink that peekd beneath his shirt, his telltale silver chain slipping out and dangling above your face. Your husband only wore his wedding ring, you tried so hard, unable to move his heavy body off you.

"Bucky-Bucky get off, what are you doing-

"Taking what should be mine, kotenok, showing you what being loved by a real man is like" He crawled off you, thighs spread wide kneeling in front of you. "He doesn't know what you deserve printsessa"

He shoved your legs apart, holding them from squirming, your twitching pearl amusing him. "S'been long, hasn't it, you say you don't want me but that swollen button says otherwise, what if I-"

He spits onto your clit making you cry out, a rough calloused thumb coming down to flick it to his hearts content. Your body jolted at the sensation, it was wrong, so wrong, God it had been so fucking long...

No.

"Bucky st-stop" You hiccupped as he moved faster, he could see your slick dampening the sheets, his idiot brother didn't know what he was missing.

"Why would I do that, hm? Look at how your body responds to me, you want this. Gonna get you so pregnant, bunny” Bucky smirked, giving his thick bulge a squeeze, making a show of shamelessly palming his erection. “Y’wouldnt even know who the daddy is”

He doesn't waste a second pulling his cock out, grinning at the way your cunt welcomes him home despite your futile protests. You scratch at him between moans of pleasure, your legs wrapping around his tapered waist. He pounds into you with purpose, he wants his child in your belly, he couldn't wait to see his brother dote on you not knowing any better.

He got harder thinking about your breasts leaking with milk as you got bigger, milk to feed his baby, milk to feed him. He'd find a way.

"Gonna put my child in you printsessa, give you my baby, show you where a man puts his cum, you'll take it won't you bunny, such a good housewife"

"No-No you-you can't oh God!" Your body shudders as pleasure and guilt washes over you, clinging onto him for dear life as he fucks you through your orgasm.

"That's right, cum for me, he can't make you cum like I can, don't think I haven't heard you with him, look at you, just a slutty little mess, you smell of sex kitten"

He intends on making the biggest mess in your pussy, needing it to drip onto the sheets you sleep in. You'd stay wrapped up in his essence while it leaked out of you, his sperm exactly where it needed to be, right in your belly-

"Get ready kitten, get ready to take it, fuck-squeezing me so good, tell me you want it, I know you do, m'gonna cum so hard for you princess, just for you, all this-fuck-do you feel it, s'all for you, SHIITTT" He roared, pumping you with the stutter of his hips, the headboard slamming against the wall as he emptied himself, shamelessly moaning into your neck.

The next 9 months would be interesting.

[demaparbat-hp]

Hiya!! 👋🏼😄 How's it going? Your fashion taste for Zuko in a Modern AU seems to be artsy, or maybe "formal" is the word. That shirt he wore when he gave Sokka romantic song advice looked Versace🧐. Anyway, I was wondering how you came up with it, he always struck me more as the type that didn´t care much about fashion, so I'm curious about other´s opinions and heacanons about it. And do you have any other fashion headcanons for the rest of the GAang? Also, their music tastes. How did you come up with them? Especially Katara's! 😍

Hello! As it happens, I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings™ about this, so I'm leaving these over here, and the rest of my ramblings down below the cut!

Let us begin with the Gaang, shall we?

SUKI always struck me as that Pretty Girl from the Gym. She is so incredibly fit it isn't even funny. She could kick anyone's ass, and we'd all thank her. She has this casual gym style that somehow always looks glorious on her, as it should! Comfy yet fashionable clothes for a nice workout or a day in town.

Her music tastes are basically any and all power songs from the eighties and nineties. (Eye of the Tiger, anyone?) She also enjoys metal via Toph, and bands like BSB, NSYNC, or Boyz II Men with Katara. My girl has a very eclectic Playlist and we all love her for it.

SOKKA is That Guy™. Loose T-shirts and shorts everywhere he goes, no matter the weather. He's stupidly into fashion but it doesn't show! At all! And everyone teases him about it. His closet is about 90% Cactus Juice merchandise, hence the "it's the quenchiest!" shirt.

His fashion and music tastes are pretty much the same. He loves poetry but isn't really into lyrics. He'll misinterpret just about anything you place in front of him. His Playlist is mostly vibes and tiktok songs he kind of enjoys. He isn't really into music...at least not as much as his sister.

AANG owns exactly one hoodie, one pair of shorts, and one beanie (THE beanie). Oh, and the crocs—don't forget the crocs. Somehow, he's always wearing the exact same outfit. Every. Single. Day. Ancient Gaang lore suggests that the day Aang goes out without his beanie, it's the end of the world.

His Playlist is the poppiest, most bizarre thing ever. Every single song is Happy by Pharrell Williams levels of happy. Yet sometimes, among the bouncy dance-to songs, you'll find the strangest of things... (He does know what Good Day by Twenty One Pilots is about. That's the reason he likes it so much, actually. And it's so weird.)

KATARA is all about sundresses and loose pants. The epitome of comfortable loveliness. Light fabrics in blue shades, careful embroidery, delicate shoes, and little to no accessories—hers is a simple, yet quite adorable, style. She just needs to add more colors to her usual palette...

She is, first and foremost, a Florence + The Machine girl. It's the Dark Goddess of the Sea vibes, to be honest. Florence Welch is her idol and yes, she will fight you about lyrics interpretation, and win. It may not seem like it, but her music tastes are also very varied.

She draws a little from each member of the Gaang, so you'll hear her humming along to Gorillaz (where did you even find out about them, Aang?), The Weeknd (I...don't think this song means what you think it means, Sokka...), and Hozier (Zuko why did you dedicate Talk to me, Zuko WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY THAT).

TOPH...ah, lovely girl. I'll summarise everything about Toph’s fashion sense in two words: comfort and rebellion. Stuffy dresses forced on her by billionaire parents? No thank you! Give her tank tops with loose shirts and short pants. Bandaids shared with Aang, bracelets from Katara, and even piercings she got in tandem with Sokka. Shoes? What even is that?

Something I love about this fandom is our collective agreement that Toph is into the dirtiest, heaviest, most ear-splitting and soul-crushing death metal of all times. Her Playlist is full of the most obscure names to ever exist, and she can and will blast through your walls with the sheer volume of her speaker.

Zuko. ZUKO.

Even in a modern AU my boy must suffer. That being said, I envision Tales from the Couch as—well, exactly what it is: an ATLA modern AU. While there is not a war to fight, and a lot of plot lines are discarded or expanded upon, much about the core story remains the same.

This is my way of saying that Zuko still goes trough his redemption arc, and it reflects on his fashion choices.

The way you described it works perfectly because of one single reason: in this AU, Zuko is an artist. He had to suppress his love for writing and drawing because of his background and the expectations Ozai had for him (taking over the family company), and a very large part of his redemption arc directly affects his relationship with art.

In the Couch equivalent of S1, Zuko has fallen out of Ozai's graces, and is desperate to protect his place in the company and the Kasai household. He's pretending to be someone he isn't and trying to live up to his Father's image of a perfect heir while still being somewhat cut-off financially, and it shows.

He's all about imposing long coats and a semi-formal style, imitating what he knows Azula and Father would respect. He's striking and sharp and dark. But no matter how he dresses or carries himself (that air of cold superiority and arrogance)—it won't help him when he needs it the most.

In S2, Zuko has hit his lowest point. He's officially disinherited and tossed away by his father, and would be out in the streets if it wasn't for Uncle Iroh. He goes from sharp, high-tailored outfits to old second-hand clothes that hang loosely on his frame. He starts smoking and cuts his hair off, forgoing the undercut for the first time in years.

But then...Father accepts him back. When Zuko returns home, it's with respect to his name and a very high position in his father's company. He's finally the perfect Kasai heir, dressed in overly expensive suits and finery, even at home... But Father forbids him from wearing Lu Ten's earring, and Zuko can no longer recognize himself without the familiar glint of gold dancing on his peripheral vision.

When Zuko leaves the Kasai name behind him and goes back to living with Uncle Iroh...he's finally at peace with who he is, and what he wants in this life. The sharp edges aren't gone (they'll always be a part of him, after all), but now they're dulled by looser clothes and softer hairstyles.

He's an artist, and for once in his life, he is determined to pursue his own ambitions. Zuko's outfits may not be designer-made anymore, but he takes what he has and makes himself look like he wants to look, like the person he wants to be.

He doesn't read fashion magazines or keeps up to the latest trends like Azula does. He's just...Zuko. And his newfound confidence makes everything he wears look like it belongs on him.

As for music...well, Ursa raised a literature boy.

He loves lyric-heavy music and natural voices, be they soothing or powerful. Dissecting song meanings and possible interpretations with Katara is one of his favorite parts of the day. They're both very passionate and strong-minded individuals, so it stands to reason that their debates can get quite...heated.

Zuko's Playlist is both incredibly eclectic and somehow very...him. There's a common thread that binds together every song and artist he likes, and he's hilariously unaware of this. To take a look into his Playlist is a higher honor reserved only for those closest to him.

In the wide spectrum of things, it is no wonder that Zuko is, first and foremost, a Hozier man. But though Andrew is his God in all aspects of this life, there's someone else that has had a huge impact on him...

Two someones, actually.

Zuko refuses to tell anyone how he got into Twenty One Pilots, but it's kind of a moot point when the beginning of his obsession is nothing compared to everything that came after. They have just about the right amount of everything that makes Zuko...well, Zuko. The poetic lyrics, the soothing or raging music, the heavy, intensely resonant themes...

Up there, in the second artwork, I placed an album cover behind each period of Zuko's life. The election of these records is intentional, as I feel like their general themes work incredibly well with Zuko's arc and growth.

Blurryface in S1. For the demons within us. For giving a name to our fears and shame.

Trench in S2. For escaping the confined walls of a depression city, and fighting to understand the depths of the map of your mind.

Scaled and Icy in the first half of S3. For returning to places you had left behind. For convincing yourself and everyone around you that you're fine, that you're perfect, even though everything is crumbling inside...

Clancy in S3. For recognizing that you can backslide, that you can have fears and shame and pain—but you're shaping yourself with each step you take. For knowing that seeking help from others is okay. Nobody learns to walk on their own.

(And, in the end, you'll always be better than the person you were yesterday. If only because you're still here. You're still alive. You're still yourself.)

.

Overall, I rambled a bit too much, don't you think?

If you made it all the way down here—thank you so much for reaching out and being interested in this crazy AU! I hope you enjoy these ideas and tell me some of your own ❤️

[plumipal]

The Tattoo (part three)

After scarabias overblot, and seeing what Ace and Deuce were willing to do for you, you were so touched that you decided to get them tattooed on your body as a small heart and a spade. After that chaos ensues-

If you wanna read the whole prolouge, then it's here

Oh poor Idia, where do we even start for him?... poor guy is absolutely shattered as soon as he saw those two tattoos on you through the cameras. He felt his entire reason to live just shatter. He feels his entire world collapsing in on itself. He completely just, breaks down, sobbing to himself on the floor trying to rationalise how the tattoos were not real, to try to keep his sanity in tact.

The days after that disastrous breakdown, he has been stuck in bed, too depressed to frankly do anything but to sulk. He had not eaten, not drank enough, and his personal hygiene is downright awful.

Once Ortho has convinced him to get up because crowley demanded him to actually attend his classes or it's byebye NRC for Idia, his pity for himself has turned into rage. Whenever he sees the dumb duo he can't help but to want to do anything against them, he sure would LOVE to doxx them...

But after some reconciderence from Ortho (statistics show he would be one of the top suspects for it and therefore make the prefect hate him even more (he believes)) he instead chose to take care of himself, putting actual effort in how he looks as to win you over with that. He sure hope it works, please...

Don't think ortho is just hyping up his brother, cuz he is sure helping on the sidelines. Digging up info the students don't want anyone to know abour sure is easy when you have unlimited internet access (and some illegal ways to obtain the info)

That's the easy way of getting students away from you, but getting you trapped up with them is almost just as easy. He starts calling you his siblings as well, subtly telling you how you and idia would be the greatest siblings ever to him, even backing up and glorifying hos brother in your eyes, anything it takes to get you to chose idia.... you will all be a happy family....

Sebek, for once in his life, is stunned to silence. He cant quite grapple the thoughts and feelings swirling within him is making him feel quite sick, making him quiet for the rest of the day..

Once classes has ended, he bolts over to his dorm only to dramatically lock himself in his dorm room and let out the worst crying session ever. He is sobbing,

The whole ordeal and emotions results in him having the need to constantly watch over you, as a way to show that he too can protect you, he can be there for you, just like ace and Deuce, but better! Please, he needed you, he needs you to need him too, please...

Silver don't quite know what to think about this. He cant blame you, the heroic stunts of your friends sure are nice, but why with something so permanent? He could do what they did and so much more for you, give him an opportunity and he will show you.

After "the talk" the four of them had, he has had a hard time sleeping for the first time in his life. He feels exhausted yet can't close his eyes, pictures of you happily being with ace and Deuce clouding his poor exhausted brain. He will take this on the only way he knows, a duel for your love and your hand.

You're not dumb either, you see how tired he had been and the lack of sleep he has been getting, and feeling bad for him you let him sleep on tou if that would help him. He takes this opportunity and sure is greedy with it, wanting more and more sleep time with you. It's one way to claim you, and at the moment it's enough for him, but don't think he won't demand more in the soon future..

Lilia feels heartbroken. First that the prefect, his beloved, has shown this love that he would love to have for someone else (especially two people), it breaks his heart. What breaks his heart even more is how he needs to go against his own sons for his beloved too. But he will do whatever it takes to secure you for himself.

When he meets you after hearing about the tattoo, he tries act as normal as possible, not wanting to scare you away with his desperation. Despite that though, he will also try to advance, because he is NOT losing to all these youngsters, he's old enough to know exactly how to treat someone right. Let him treat your right, please, he begs of you....

Malleus feels like there's a storm inside him, getting worse by every second he thinks about that forsaken tattoo you have. He activately tries to think less about it, not wanting the whole school to be stuck in a storm for weeks, especially when you're situated in that poor awful old and decrepid building. He will try to smite ace and Deuce if he has the choise to though-

After the anger dies down, that's when the sadness flows in. The fact that he was not your favorite, that he was not worth his own tattoo, frankly brings him to tears. He has never been denied something in his life, especially something that he wants so badly. It's a foreign feeling, and a horrible one at that.

He is an attention hungry dragon, give him what he wants and he will give you the world without question. Just, please, give him the love and affection he both crave and deserves...

Chat, im tired. Let me sleep- FINALLY THIS SERIES IS FINISHED! or so I thought- o will focus on other comics/ideas before I come back for the endings tho, because I kinda wanna do other stuff and not just the tattoo shenanigans yknow :) one again huge thanks to @artdolliewishes for lots of support and help lmao

I hope yall enjoyed this shitshow of a series atleast, was lots of fun to create after all

[ellecdc]

hello elle!! i saw you asking for pregnant reader/ dad marauders and i was thinking maybe one about one of them reading about baby’s and music and they’re all discussing what kind of music they wanna play if they want classical or baby music and tiny baby who cannot care any less just starts crawling towards the vinyls and picks something like bowie or queen?? i can imagine sirius losing his mind about it, i just know it would be funny!! i love the ones you’ve made so far i’m obsessed, you’re so talented <3

aaah so cute! thanks for the request!!! <3

dad!marauders x mum!reader who try to musicify their child [850 words]

CW: kid fic, written as fem!reader but no gender is specified - Remus calls you dove, one slightly dirty joke if you want it to be, fluff [I tried to avoid naming their kid for this one but it didn't feel right. I know I like to have Sirius' daughter's name to be 'Aurora' but idk what to do with poly fics yet]

You’d long since given up on trying to spare your child from their father’s nonsense. You have a feeling that Remus had too, though he couldn’t always help but stoke the coals of nonsense where he saw fit.

“I think it’s fine she’s not said her first word yet!” Sirius commented from the floor, sitting cross legged with his arms held aloft should he need to catch your daughter if her chubby little legs gave out on her. “Some say that if it takes them a long time to start speaking, then they’ll just start speaking in full sentences.”

“Yeah?” Remus commented sceptically as he sifted through the mail. “Who’s they?” 

“The books! The baby books!”

“The baby books?” Remus deadpanned, shooting you wink to let you know he was taking the piss.

“Yes! That’s why we need to start her on music now.” Sirius proclaimed, earning him a scoff from James who was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, also supervising your toddlers toddling. 

“Oh? We need to start her on music now? But when I wanted to start her on music back-”

“You didn’t want to start her on music, Jamie.” Sirius scolded. “You wanted to start her on ABBA.” 

“You take that back.” James demanded, pointing a severe finger at Sirius.

“Okay, okay.” Remus commented with his hands up placatingly. “Let’s all just take it easy, alright? There’s no need for this to escalate.” 

Sirius and James stared each other down a moment longer before they relented. 

“But we should probably get her started on Beethoven or Motzart.” Remus added as he disappeared into the kitchen, earning him ‘oi’s of protest from his two most theatrical partners.

“You’re trying to make my daughter boring.” Sirius accused.

“No.” Remus argued as he returned with a frozen teether for said daughter, moving to sit on the couch next to the chair you were situated in. “I’m trying to make our daughter intelligent.” 

“Y/N.” James whined then, causing you to look up from the book you were only pretending to read. “Moony’s trying to turn our daughter into a swot.”

“Remus.” You drawled in your most bored tone.

Remus played the part of a beat down suburban father. “Yes dear?” 

“Stop trying to give our daughter a fighting chance in McGonagall’s advanced transfiguration course.”

“Yes dear.”

“Thank you.” Sirius professed, smiling greatly at the child when she gurgled something around the teether. “Is that right, sweet girl? That almost sounded like the Arabic in the bridge of Bohemian Rhapsody!” 

“No,” James argued, “that sounded like the opening notes of Super Trouper.” 

“It sounded like the poor thing is cutting another tooth.” You countered as you held your arms open, earning you a slobbery smile around the teether she refused to spit out, watching as she took two unstable steps towards you before falling onto her bum. 

“Our little lovie won’t let that slow her down though, will she?” James cheered, earning him a squeal from his daughter as she took off crawling in the opposite direction.

“What would be her first words if she started speaking in full sentences, though?” You pondered aloud as you watched her stand on her knees in front of the record collection, banging her teether against the legs of the turntable. 

“Probably reminding Sirius to ‘use a sodding coaster’.” James chuckled.

“Or the common conciliatory ‘okay, moons’.” Remus snorted. 

“No! It should absolutely be ‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good’!” Sirius interjected.

“That’s kind of a mouthful for a wee babe.” Remus considered.

“You’re kind of a mouthful.” Sirius muttered.

“What about ‘mischief managed’?” You offered then, causing all three boys to sigh sentimentally. 

“No.” Sirius decided after a moment. “Her first word will definitely be ‘dove’.”

“I agree.” James added with a nod in your direction. “That’s probably the most said word in this house.”

“That’s not true.” Remus argued; his cheeks dusted with the faintest pink. 

Any further teasing at Remus’ sake was curtailed by an excited squeal from the child who was now standing at her full height with a record in one hand and its sleeve in the other.

“No way!” Both James and Sirius chorused, though it was James in excitement and Sirius in devastation. 

James all but launched himself at his daughter and scooped her up into his arms, eliciting even more delighted squealing as he placed the record of her choosing on the turntable and hit play. 

And what started playing from your well-used record player but Side Two of ABBA’s Greatest Hits Vol. 2.

“You can dance! You can jive! Having the time of your life; ooooh!” James sang horribly out of tune to his daughter's delight and Sirius’ chagrin as you and Remus shared a look. 

“She’s not going to stand a chance in advanced transfiguration, is she?” 

“Perhaps not,” you offered as you watched James sing loudly at Sirius who beamed up at James and their daughter from his place on the floor, forgoing any act of irritation as he sang and bobbed along for your baby's sake, “but at least she’ll know how to dance.”

[menagerofmischief]

Spill Your Guts (OP81)

summary: after revealing what she listens to in order to wind down, y/n ends up with an invite from her favorite podcast host to appear in the next episode

driver!reader x podcast host!oscar piastri -> habs incoming... series masterlist

cw: not fia approved words, reader teasing lando (they're besties), kissing, fluff, bad flirting, oscar being bullied by hattie

wc: 2.9k

a/n: this one is written + smau, with a bit of different formatting for the podcast episode. this one was fun to write, I hope y'all will like it and show it some love.

-> TAKE 1

“Hi,” you said, flashing a smile to the camera. “I’m Y/n L/n!”

“And I’m Lando Norris,” your teammate, sitting in a chair next to you in the video set up, said while waving his hand. “And we’re McTeammates!”

“Lando,” you said, shaking your head as you turned to look at him. “We talked about this. We drive for McLaren, we’re teammates but,” you lifted a finger up, pointing it at him. “We’re not, McTeammates.”

He rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out at you. “Whatever you say, McGrumpy!”

“That’s it!” You said, pushing your chair away from the table and standing up. “I’m taking away your Gray’s Anatomy privileges.”

“You can’t do that, you bitch!”

“Try me, you little termite!”

-> TAKE 2

“Hi,” you smiled, lifting your hand up to wave at the camera. “I’m Y/n L/n.”

“Why do you always start?” Lando complained. “Like why isn’t my name first, I’ve been here longer.”

“Because I’m the lead in the championship and your nickname is last lap Lando.”

“That’s so fucking mean, you muppet!” He sobbed, wiping the corner of his eye to add to the dramatic effect. “What’s wrong with you - you know I’m sensitive about that.”

You sighed, putting your hand on his back and rubbing along his spine in a comforting manner. “I’m sorry, Lando, I didn’t mean it.” You said, putting your fingers into his locks and ruffling his hair. “We can do your name first, and you can start the video. How does that sound?”

He looked up at you, eyes shining with excitement, the previous dramatics instantly gone as he started nodding his head. “Deal! No take backsies!”

-> TAKE 3

“Hi!” Lando said, his voice full of enthusiasm as he waved at the same with a big grin. “I’m Lando Norris.”

“And I’m Y/n L/n!” You said, smiling at the came and praying this take was going to work out because if you had to start this video over one more time you were going to strangle your teammate.

“Today we’re answering your questions. which you had the chance to send us on Instagram and we put them in this bowl.” Lando explained, holding up the said bowl full of folded papers.

You pushed your hand into the bowl, running your fingers over the papers before grabbing one and pulling it out. You unfolded the paper, looking down at the printed words. “What is Lando afraid of?” You read the question, laughing a little. “Fish!”

“Hey!” He interrupted, snatching the paper from your hands. “It’s my question I’m supposed to answer!” He looked down at the paper, humming while nodding his head. “I’m also afraid of the dark.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from making a comment, wanting badly to tease him about saying he was afraid of the dark. 

Satisfied with his reply, Lando threw the paper away and dug into the bowl for the next one. He unfolded the paper, clearing his throat dramatically before reading out the question. “What does Y/n L/n listen to, to wind down?” His eyes snapped up, looking into yours. “Uh, I know this one!”

“I don’t care,” you replied, snatching the paper from his hands. “It’s my question.” You told him, returning his previous words back to him, which made him pout. “To wind down, especially after a race I listen to a podcast hosted by some Aussie guy named Oscar. The podcast is called Spill Your Guts, it has no specific theme and the host is a funny guy. Plus, he sounds cute.”

“I could have answered that!” Lando said, poking your arm with his finger. “I knew your answer word for word.”

“I’m sure you did Lando,” you said, nodding your head at him. “Now why don’t you pull out the next question?”

It’s a few days later, the video already long gone from your mind, when you walk into your driver’s room after a practice and flop directly onto the couch as soon as your helmet and balaclava are off, letting your body mold into the cushions after the exhausting practice.

You grab your phone and open it, eyes focusing on the new massage you had gotten while you were in the car. Your expression is confused as your eyes swipe over the number, not recognizing whose it is.

You enter the chat and after a brief moment of hesitation, you reply.

Your hands are shaking as you try your best to shove your phone into your pocket before jumping up, a scream tearing from your throat before you’re running to Lando’s driver’s room.

“Lando!” You yell, grabbing the door handle and pushing his doors open without knocking. He stops dead in his tracks and turns around to face you.

Lando holds both hands up, his mouth full of a chocolate doughnut that is half sticking out. He quickly grabs the part that’s sticking out and pulls it out of his mouth, swallowing the rest as fast as he can. “Don’t tell my trainer, please!”

Your eyes slide over to the half a doughnut in his hands and you shake your head at him. “I don’t care about that,” you tell him. “You’ll never believe what happened!”

“Max Verstappen got a 100 points penalty and you secured the championship?” He offers, deciding to finish his doughnut while he has a chance. 

“No, I don’t think that’s possible,” you tell him. “But it would be great! What was I saying? Oh, yes!” You clap your hand before putting them on his shoulders and shaking him. “Oscar Piastri invited me to star in an episode?”

“Who?” He asks, his voice muffled by the treat in his mouth.

“The Spill Your Guts, guy!”

“You got invited to Spill Your Guts!?” Lando asks, swallowing the doughnut before looking at you with a smile. “You’re going to be on an episode of your favorite podcast?”

“Yes!” You laughed, smiling at him.

“How?”

You grabbed Lando’s hand and moved him over to the couch, flopping down into a comfortable position, you patted the spot next to you, signaling for your teammate to sit down. Once he did, you cracked your fingers and locked your eyes with his. “Okay, so…” and then started explaining.

OSCAR: Hello everyone! Welcome to tonight's episode of Spill Your Guts. Tonight’s guest is definitely the most famous person I’ve ever had sitting opposite of me if you don’t count my sister, with her 120k TikTok followers. Anyways, it’s my pleasure to welcome Y/n L/n to the studio!

Y/N: Hi, Oscar! And hello to everyone who’s listening in tonight. The pleasure is all mine really - I’m honestly so excited to be here. Just ask Lando, I’m pretty sure he’s gone deaf from all my screaming.

OSCAR: [laugh] Okay Y/n, settle in and fasten your seat-belt, we’re starting.

Y/N: I’m ready!

OSCAR: I’m sure you’ve been asked this many times but what’s it like being a Formula 1 driver?

Y/N: Thrilling. Every race week is a new adventure and the sport is really competitive so you’re constantly trying to prove yourself and set new records. There’s really no time to slow down.

OSCAR: I’ll be honest, it sounds a bit exhausting. Now, if you were a driver what would you be?

Y/N: Maybe a doctor [sigh] I’ve always been interested in medicine but racing is my life. But yeah, if I wasn’t a racer I’d probably want to pursue a career in medicine.

OSCAR: [hum] I can see it. You’d look good in scrubs. [both laugh] What’s your favorite Grand Prix?

Y/N: Two words Oscar - Las Vegas!

OSCAR: That’s a night race, yeah? Seem fun. Are you ready for some rapid fire questions now?

Y/N: Go right ahead, pretty boy.

OSCAR: [nervous laugh] Okay then, ready steady go! Wet or dry?

Y/N: Wet.

OSCAR: Monza or Monaco?

Y/N: Monza!

OSCAR: Blondes or brunettes?

Y/N: Brunettes [laugh] Australian ones preferably.

OSCAR: [very loud laugh] How cold are the ice baths?

Y/N: Very fucking cold.

OSCAR: Vettel or Alonso?

Y/N: None of them - Rosberg. Catch the reference. 

OSCAR: I did! Catch the reference, that’s it. I watched that video to come up with questions.

Y/N: Oh, is the next question bums of boobs then? Because bums for sure.

OSCAR: That was not a question but thank you for answering it either way. Let me take a quick peek at the chat. boy4norizz wants to know who’s your favorite F1 teammate?

Y/N: [loud laugh] Oh God, Lando I’m gonna kill you! So, the only answer I can give you is Lando, because he’s the only teammate I’ve had in F1. But if I had another, it would definitely be them.

OSCAR: Cats or dogs?

Y/N: I like both but if I had to pick - dogs. I’ve got a dog actually, a goldie. His name’s Apollo.

OSCAR: I love goldies!

Y/N: You should come meet mine sometimes. 

OSCAR: I might take you up on that. Now, last I checked you are the current lead in the championship, right? How does that feel?

Y/N: Still feels a bit unreal, if I’m being honest. Obviously every driver dreams about winning the WDC, and obviously only half of the season is done so I don’t want to be getting ahead of myself with the talk, but to actually be in the lead and have such a big chance to win it feels amazing.

OSCAR: I hope you do win it.

Y/N: Oh! [small pause] Does that mean you’ll be cheering on me?

OSCAR: Absolutely! You mentioned half of the season being done so that means summer break is approaching right?

Y/N: Yes, summer break starts after the next race.

OSCAR: Got any plans for the break?

Y/N: Depends. Are you free?

[few moments of silence and then both start laughing]

OSCAR: [catching his breath] Alright, thank you everyone for tuning in - and thank you to Y/n, for joining us. Enjoy the rest of your night.

liked by yourusername, landonorris, mclaren, hattiepiastri and 12,864 more

oscarpiastri: Another thank you to F1 star, Y/n L/n for joining us in tonight's episode of Spill Your Guts. And thank you for bringing the merch! Go stream the episode if you missed it!

tagged: yourusername

comments:

user01: call me crazy but they have so much chemistry

user423: you're not crazy girl, I literally felt like I was intruding userr: same! and her inviting him to meet her dog!! if they don't date I'll kms

ynsmclaren2: 'do you have plans' 'depends, are you free' WELCOME BACK SEBASTIAN VETTEL

user3: no because I literally screamed when I heard that userss: preach sister. they sound so good together I need them to date

yourusername: it was an amazing experience, 10/10 host would come back

oscarpiastri: dibs on getting the first interview when you win your championship? yoursername: deal user33: oh they're down bad

hattiepiastri: you're embarrassing me, you have her number use it

oscarpiastri: I'm telling mom you're mean to me hattiepiastri: do it no balls, she likes me more user454: I live for hattie bullying oscar

You look into the mirror one more time, raising your hands up to smooth down your hair for God knows what time that night. You push yourself forward, practically leaning over the desk so your face is directly in front of the mirror and run your finger over the edge of your bottom lip, making sure corners of your lipstick aren’t smudged. 

“Stop that!” Lando says, picking up a makeup brush from the bed and throwing it at you. It’s times like these that make you wonder why you agreed to go on vacation with him. “You look great! I’m sure the pastry boy’s jaw is gonna dislocate from how hard it’s going to drop when he sees you.”

“That’s … definitely a mental image.” You reply, picking up the brush from the floor and throwing it back at him. “I’m nervous,” you admit, picking on the bits of skin next to your nails.

Lando gets up from the bed and approaches you. He smiles and lifts a hand up to pat your shoulder before deciding to pull in for a quick hug. “There’s no need to be.You’re a catch and if he screws us it’s his loss.”

You bite your lip, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you think it over. “Yeah, you’re right. Come on, I’m gonna be late.”

After pushing Lando out of your room you grab your purse and exit the room. The elevator ride down to the lobby feels like a small eternity, your stomach tied in knots by the time you finally step out in the lobby.

You make your way outside, a lump in your throat as you look around the busy street. Your eyes finally meet his and it’s like time slows down. He’s leaning against his car, dressed casually in pants and a T-Shirt, and holding a small bouquet of flowers.

You smile as you approach him and he mirrors your smile with his own. “These are for you,” he says, offering you the bouquet. “You look breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” you reply, taking the flowers from him, your fingers brushing against his. “And you don’t look bad yourself.”

He laughs in response, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards into a smile. He grabs the car door handle and opens the door, gesturing at it with his free arm. “Shall we?”

You can help but laugh, nodding your head you get into the car and he closes the door, going around the car and sitting in the driver's seat. “Where are we going?” You ask, settling back into the seat and pulling on your seat-belt.

“A little restaurant I used to go to with my parents and sisters when I was younger,” he tells you, starting the car. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”

f1wagupdates: new WAG in the paddock?

current championship lead and famous mclaren driver Y/n L/n, was spotted having an intimate dinner with Oscar Piastri, podcast host of Spill Your Guts, which L/n starred on and mentioned it being her favorite podcast.

after the episode she appeared in fans noted the flirting between L/n and Piastri. are the two finally together?

comments:

ynsmclaren2: I'm very happy for them but why don't we give them some privacy instead of photographing them going out to dinner

user332: hell yeah! my otp is real

user441: they look so cute together, I ship it

oscarpiastri: the term WAG stands for wives and girlfriends and is used for partners of athletes mostly because they are straight men dating women. the appropriate term to use in this situation is HAB because that stands for husbands and boyfriends and is therefore the same things as a WAG but for the other gender

oscarpiastri: if you're gonna gossip at least do it right user77: he ate I fear user667: f1wagsupdates you've been real quiet since this comment

oscarpiastri: #HABandproud

user11: please I love him user334: mclaren's media team is gonna have a field day user102: protect him from pr training at all costs

tap to load more comments...

“Stop biting your nails, it’s disgusting” Hattie said, slapping Oscar’s hand away from his mouth.

Oscar tore his attention off from the screen to glare at his sister before returning it to the screen once more. This was it, Abu Dhabi Grand Prix.

You and Max were tied in the points and this was not only the final race of the season but also the race that determined who would win the championship. Of course he was biting his nails, he was nervous.

“And to think mom said you’d never get a girlfriend sitting in a studio and hosting a podcast.” Hattie said, bringing a glass of water up to her lips and drinking from it.

“Why are you even here?” Oscar asked his sister.

“Your girlfriend invited me,” Hattie replied with a shrug of her shoulders. “She likes me more than you.”

Oscar was about to reply but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a gasp as he completely focused on what was playing out. He felt Hattie grab his hand, her nails digging into his skin.

“Verstappen is attempting a rather risky overtake on L/n, can she defend?” He heard the voice of the commentator ring out through the speakers. The whole crowd seemed to silence down as they watched the battle for first place, for the championship.

“Last lap, they can both see the checkered flag but who will cross it first?” Oscar held his breath. “Verstappen going wide … but L/n leaves no space! She moves fast, she moves fast and SHE CROSSES THE FINISH LINE!”

Oscar winced as Hattie screamed into his ear, both of them hugging each other before running down with the rest of the team to greet you when you got out of the car.

You pulled yourself out from the car, your heart practically in your throat, vision blurry with tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. You pulled your helmet and balaclava off, each searching the crows until they landed on Oscar who was smiling at you.

Without as much as a second thought you ran up to him, throwing your arms around him and kissing him. He kissed you back, full of passion, and his arms stroked your back.

When you finally pulled away he had the biggest smile on his face, lifting his hand up to cup your cheek. “So, about that championship win interview?”

You laughed, leaning your cheek into his hand. “It’s a date.”

tag list:

p1 @formula1-motogpfan @misty-inferno @thelemonque3n @marvel-hotchner @strangemaximoff

p2 @folkloresreputation @pippyth3hippy @adharacamdridge @theseerbetweenus @sebastianstansblog

p3 @tellybearryyyy @six-call @grussellsprout @oikarma @justcharlotte

p4 @annimausi @kodeelynn @schniti-is-in-the-house @cinnvmonrolls @cmleitora

[aewon]

ENHYPEN WHEN YOU…put your hands in their back pockets

pairing ✧ enhypen x f!reader g: fluff warnings: kissing, cussing, pet names, pda, groping, implied shorter reader in sunghoon’s ✧ note: inspired by the no doubt choreo !

LEE HEESEUNG

you’re sitting in enha’s practice room, watching them practice no doubt’s choreo. their choreographer calls for a break and they immediately disperse. heeseung turns towards you and open his arms, wanting a hug.

who are you to deny him? you make your way to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. he sighs in content, resting his head on your shoulder. you decide to be sneaky and slowly drift your hands downwards until they’re snug in his back pockets. you hear him giggle but he doesn’t pull away, “what are you doing?”

“nothing,” you say, deciding to play with him by squeezing his butt, making him let out a curse.

“shit!”

you laugh as he pulls back, looking at you incredulously.

“you are such a menace,” he says, but he doesn’t hesitate to return the favor, making you squeal.

PARK JONGSEONG

you’re in your shared apartment, laying on the couch while jay lays on top of you. your arms are wrapped around him, holding close to you.

an idea pops into your head, and you put it into action, sliding your hands down into his back pockets.

“why are you touching my ass?” you know he’s not mad, just curious by his tone.

“it’s a nice ass, can’t help but wanna touch it,” you end your words with a firm slap to his ass. jay yelps, looking at you with his annoyed face.

“that’s not nice,” he says, but you can see a hint of a laugh behind his lips.

he wastes no time in getting up and turning you around on the couch, giving your ass the same treatment. except he hits harder, with his large palms making it burn slightly.

“ouch! i didn’t hit yours that hard!”

“don’t hate the player, hate the game.” he continues to smirk while you pout, having been outplayed.

SIM JAEYUN

you and jake are standing in line for ice cream at the park. you’re standing behind him while he mindlessly scrolls through his phone.

you decide to be mischievous and put your hands in his back pockets, the position somewhat awkward but you couldn’t care less.

you can’t see it, but you can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he speaks, “you just love touching me don’t you?”

you hum, not moving your hands even as the line moves forward. you and jake don’t really care about pda or people seeing you in public. of course, you’re not animals, so you don’t take it too far but things like this don’t bother you or him.

“baby, what exactly is the point of this?” he asks, turning his head to look behind himself at you. you shrug, leaning into his back before taking his butt into your hands and squeezing hard. he jumps, almost comically, as you laugh quietly, trying not to bring too much attention to yourselves.

“you are so annoying! you’re gonna bruise it!”

you coo, mocking his whiney tone before rubbing it gently to fend off any oncoming injury. “better?” you ask and he hmphs, turning back around. you kiss his cheek apologetically, which makes him smile.

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon is very sensitive about touch. he doesn’t really like pda but he doesn’t dislike touch as long as it’s private.

you and the enhypen members are hanging out in your apartment. jay has chosen to cook to everyone’s delight. sunghoon is standing by the entrance, watching the tv with everyone else who’s situated on the couches.

you come up to him, looking at him with a pout.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, genuinely concerned. you do nothing but hold your arms out, indicating you want a hug. sunghoon hesitates for a second because he doesn’t like pda, even in front of his members, but one look into your eyes and he’s cooked.

he wraps his arms around you, you doing the same, hugging him tightly. he rests his chin on your head and sighs softly. he could never deny you. without him realizing, your sneaky hands make their way down, down into his back jean pockets.

sunghoon doesn’t even move, either he’s oblivious or he’s ignoring it for your sake, and his. what he doesn’t expect is for you to take his butt into your hands and squeeze, hard.

he jerks forward, taking you by the arms and pulling you away from him. he looks a mix between stunned and annoyed. you start to giggle, making grabby hands at him like you’re gonna do it again but he grabs them, now smiling.

“don’t even think about it, what’s wrong with you?” he asks quietly, not trying to alert the members.

you just stare up at him before surprising him again with a kiss to his lips.

“aww look at the happy couple, i got that whole thing on video by the way,” riki says from his seat on the couch. the other members begin to crowd him, even jay coming from the kitchen after hearing the commotion.

sunghoon breaks away from you, running over to try and wrestle the phone from riki’s hands while you laugh and watch.

KIM SUNOO

you and sunoo are very affectionate with one another, never hesitating to plant kisses on each others lips or cheeks, hug or anything else.

he’s standing in front of your full length mirror, getting ready to go out while you wait for him. as you come to stand behind him, you put your hands into his back pockets. he looks at you through the glass and smiles.

“whatcha doin?” he asks, though he doesn’t make any move to stop you.

“touching my favorite part of you,” you say, laughing as he gaps in offense.

“tuh, and here and i thought it was my personality!”

“that and your ass, i love it.” with that you take your hands out and give his ass a rough slap.

he swears, looking at you with wide eyes.

“okay, you’re done. no more ass privileges for you,” he says, dragging you around so you’re standing in front of him instead of behind.

you begin to whine, apologizing and saying you won’t do it again.

“that’s a damn lie and you know it.”

YANG JUNGWON

jungwon has brought you along to the recording studio while they prepare for their next album. you’re standing in front of him, his arm wrapped around you. you turn around in his arms, smiling at him, “you sound great babe.”

“thank you,” he says, bringing you in for a hug.

you hands rub his back up and down, before making their way lower and lower until they’re hovering over his ass. without warning you put your hands into his back pockets, and squeeze almost violently.

he jumps away from you, looking at you in pure shock. “what the fuck!” he says, laughing, “don’t touch my butt!”

“why?” you cock your head to the side, “i can’t touch what’s mine?” you ask in a questioning tone. he looks at you in disbelief.

“excuse me, it’s not yours.”

“yes it is, what’s yours is mine,” you say, smiling at him.

“oh really?” he raises an eyebrow, “so if that’s the case, what’s yours is mine?” you think he’s gonna go for your ass and bring your hands around to protect it but without hesitation his hands go for your front, squeezing your chest.

you gasp scandalously, “jungwon!”

he just smirks at you, “what’s yours is mine.”

NISHIMURA RIKI

you and riki have been dating for a few months now but haven’t really escalated to touching each other frequently. whether it comes to kisses or hugs, you’re still a bit awkward with one another.

you’ve decided to take your relationship up a notch in hopes he won’t oppose you.

today finds you with riki, alone in the dance studio as he practices their choreo. you watch him in amazement. how his body moves, its miraculous and you’re mesmerized.

he pauses the music, coming to stand in front of you, “so what do you think?”

“i think it’s amazing, you’re amazing,” you say.

you know riki likes compliments, he just doesn’t like to show it. he waves his hand, like it’s no big deal but you stand up and open your arms, “hug.”

“i’m sweaty,” he says, “you don’t wanna hug me.”

you shake your head, “don’t care, hug me!”

he can’t deny you, so he moves forward to wrap you in his arms. you rest your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. your hands make their way down, before finding comfort in his back pockets.

“oh?” he says in a questioning voice, “didn’t know we were at this point in our relationship.”

“can’t help it, i like being close to you.”

“and being close means touching my butt?” you know he’s not annoyed or angry because he’s laughing, so you hum in confirmation. without warning his own hands slide down to cup your own butt.

“now we’re even,” he says, grunting and laughing as you playfully squeeze his ass. and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back.

© AEWON 2024

[peachylynnie]

the cat butler

word count: 2.4k

synopsis: in which sylus is eager to please you, as always. but this time, as a cat butler.

contains: sylus x mc!reader (they're not dating, but sylus is down bad), references to the cat butler trailer, sylus with cat ears and a tail, suggestive themes, mentions of alcohol, cussing, making out, and stalking(?).

a/n: i wrote this after reading somewhere that the upcoming memory might be our first-ever kiss with sylus. so consider this a prediction of some sort (probably not gonna happen). also, sylus' cat ears suit him so well. do not plagiarize or copy my work. sylus would not endorse plagiarism. enjoy!

“my lady,” a rich yet sultry voice calls. you shift uncomfortably in your sleep, wanting to rest a bit more.  

“my lady,” the voice repeats firmly. still, you dismiss it by grumbling and refusing to open your eyes. 

“my lady.” huh, that's weird. why does that voice sound like…

“my lady.” sylus?!  you burst open your eyes upon recognizing who was calling you. though, not without a startled "oh, god" because sylus was mere inches from your face.  

immediately, you sit up, rubbing your eyes and trying to process what was happening. where were you? how long were you out for? and most importantly, why was sylus calling you "my lady?" not that you had any problem with it, but still. your eyes widen as you find yourself on a velvet sofa in a sleek lounge of some sort. extending your arms in front of you, you stare dumbfoundedly at the tight leather gloves enveloping your hands. confusedly, you look down as you pat your body. a silky red, a-line dress hugged your figure, and you couldn’t help but admire the strings of shimmering pearls that hung around your waist and neck.  

hoping for answers on how you got here and why you were dressed so nicely, you turn to look at sylus, who was kneeling on the ground next to the sofa to meet you at your eye level. you can’t stop the gasp that leaves your mouth. are those cat ears?!

nevermind the fact that sylus was dressed in a neat, scarlet tuxedo that matched the shade of your dress. nevermind the fact that he looked good in a tie—so good to the point you wanted to tug on it. nevermind the fact that he was wearing a clean pair of white gloves that outlined his fingers so nicely. what was with the cat ears?! and a tail, too?! 

"uhm" you start. "what’s with the…?" you point at his head, hoping that he would understand. you couldn’t care less about formulating proper sentences. right now, you wanted answers. where were you? why were you dressed so nicely? why the fuck is sylus wearing cat ears and a tail? and why did the caracal set suit him so well? 

sylus' crimson eyes move up cutely as if he was trying to see the ears for himself. then, they fall back down to you, but not without a chuckle. "they're cat ears, my lady," he answers teasingly. "isn't it obvious?" with that, the ears twitch excitedly. yup, you saw that right. they actually twitched. 

"holy shit," you mutter as you reach to stroke the ears. "can i?" 

sylus smirks as he gives you a single nod, closing his eyes to convey that you are more than welcome to touch him.  

the ears felt incredibly real. the fur was super soft, and you could feel the skin vibrating beneath your fingers. your eyes widen as you pinch the ears gently. they didn't just feel real. they are real. the sheer warmth you felt from touching the exposed skin in the ears told you so. fascinated, you move your fingers to the back of one of the ears to scratch at the fur. sylus purrs and leans into your scratches. you can’t help but giggle at the sight. "who's the kitten now, sylus?" you jest, lifting your free hand to scratch his other ear, causing the man to part his mouth and rest his head against your knee. fuck, your touches felt so good.  

wanting to get actual answers from him, you stop scratching and let your hands rest on your lap. before you can even speak, sylus hisses at the loss of your touch, his brows knitting and a scowl growing on his lips. he grabs both your hands and places them back on his ears. understanding his message, you continue your ministrations, trying to remember certain spots that cats tend to like. 

"as much as these ears suit you," you coo. "this is really weird. want to tell me what's going on, sylus?" you don't remember him contacting you for a new mission where cat props and formal wear would be involved. heck, you don't remember how you even got here. what exactly was going on?  

sylus sighs and raises his head back up before answering, "you purchased me, my lady." his amused gaze meets your bewildered one. “we signed a contract where i would be your cat butler as of today. perhaps you forgot because as soon as you signed the contract, you drank excessively from the bar over there," he juts his head towards the bar behind you. "then, you passed out." 

what in the actual fuck? did he say purchase? what contract? you don’t remember signing any contracts. and since when did you ever drink? no, this can’t be right. you don't even recall coming to this fancy place. let alone dressing up so nicely.  

"you're lying," you nervously say. "there's no one working at the bar, and i don't see any glasses either." for a moment, a look of pride flashes on sylus' face. you always were so observant. one of the many things he loved about you. if only you were more observant of his affection for you instead of being so oblivious all the time. "besides, what's with our outfits? i don't remember putting this on. let alone coming here..." 

sylus laughs endearingly. his signature, billionaire laugh that constantly stirs up butterflies within you. "trust me, my lady, you drank," he insists, grasping your wrist and pressing a fond kiss. flustered by his actions, you try to pull back, but sylus' grasp remains strong. his sharp gaze locks with yours as he continues. "the dress code here is formal. thus, our attire. you walked in looking like this. a wonderful choice, i must say. you look ravishing, and i am honored to have been sold to you because..." sylus leans in next to your face, his hot breath fanning your sensitive ears. "i wouldn't have anyone else as my master."  

you stand up immediately, uncontrollably blinking and blushing from what you just heard. unfortunately, you don’t realize that you are wearing heels, causing you to stumble backward. sylus swiftly stands up, pulling you to him with an arm around your waist, effectively and attractively saving you from your fall. you place both hands on his broad shoulders, trying to balance yourself and catch your breath. noticing that the two of you were basically conjoined by the groin, you avert your eyes away from him.  

"t-thanks," you stammer as you try to get some space by pushing at his shoulders. "you can let go of me now."  

sylus tilts his head, looking down at you mischievously and trying to meet your avoidant gaze. "is that a command, my lady?"  

puzzled by his question, you finally meet his eyes. sylus sighs a hum of satisfaction, relishing in your eye contact with him. "what do you mean command?" you ask. you were too occupied by sylus’ accusations of you drinking to fully capture his previous answers.  

"it's part of the contract you paid for. i am to obey your every command as your one and only cat butler." the man answers eagerly, as if what he had just said was completely normal. almost as if he was enjoying this.  

you blink once. then twice before asking, "i paid for this?" you did not like where this was going.  

"indeed, my lady. five million dollars to be exact. i am quite the expensive cat butler," sylus grins. normally, you would've found his grin cute. some fangs would peek out, and a slight dimple would show. moreover, he was wearing cat ears. which only added to his playful demeanor. but right now, you were mortified because FIVE MILLION DOLLARS?! WHERE DID YOU EVEN GET THAT MUCH MONEY?!

"what?!" you struggle against his embrace. "what do you mean five million dollars? not even a rare protocore is worth that much!" you panic as you think about your savings. did you seriously spend all your savings on a cat butler contract and put yourself into years’ worth of debt? oh god, if so, you were fucked. say goodbye to all your years of hard work and saving. 

sylus frowns at your last statement. "are you not satisfied, my lady?"

with your jaw dropped, you look at the man towering over you as if he had said something, for lack of a better term, dumb. which he technically did because who would be satisfied after spending five million dollars on a cat butler contract?! (me). "yes?!” you say incredulously. “who in this situation would be satisfied?! you just told me that i blew all my savings and probably even more for a stupid contract!" 

sylus sighs, pinching his nose bridge with his free hand. while it was one thing to have something related to him get called stupid, it was another to see you so rattled. he had to ease your mind, knowing it would spiral if he didn't act soon. "now, now my lady. there is nothing stupid about this contract. you'd be surprised by the numerous benefits that come with it. which are but not limited to me obeying your every command." 

you don’t know which is worse. the head of onychinus telling you that you spent a sickening amount of money just to see him in a suit with cat features. or the head of onychinus telling you that you were actually benefiting from spending a sickening amount of money just to see him in a suit with cat features. as much as the idea of sylus following orders sounded like heaven, being broke in a matter of who knows how long, or in this case, little, and for a stupid reason at that, was not great. not great at all. your gaze shifts rapidly, distracted with coming up with a solution. "are there any refunds by chance?" you ask meekly. 

a dangerous look passes over sylus’ crimson eyes. with no ill intent, of course. he could never harbor any feelings of malice towards you. but the idea of you wanting a refund bothered him greatly. he was not going to let you get rid of him so easily. his arm around your waist tightens, bringing you even closer to him. lifting his free hand, sylus curls a finger under your chin, tilting your face upwards to meet his burning gaze. you shiver, forced to drown in his deep pools of rubies. feeling a rush of pleasure from finally having your attention on him, sylus moves his hand from your chin and reaches behind you to caress the blade of your shoulder. you can't help but shudder at the sudden intimacy. why did this dress have to expose your back? 

"even if my services were terrible," sylus doesn't cease his feather-like touches on your back, causing you to twitch and pant from sensitivity. "there are no refunds," he rasps as he traces a finger down your spine, prompting a whimper from you. enjoying the small yet addictive noises that leave your pretty lips, sylus smirks. yes, this was how it was supposed to be. you, in his embrace where only he could make you feel good and only he could hear your sweet, sweet sounds.  

"sylus..." you try your best not to moan. "s-stop it." you hide your face in sylus' chest, wanting to muffle your sounds and smother your embarrassment away. "i-i got it. no refunds."  

liking what he hears, sylus ceases his ministrations. he brings his hand back to your chin, gently pulling you away from his chest and slowly tilting your face so that you meet his gaze once more. "i'm glad you understand, my lady," sylus closes in on you, his lips millimeters apart from yours. "you won't be returning me anytime soon."  

sylus smashes his lips against yours, earning a moan from you. with the hand that was on your chin now cupping your face and the arm that was around your waist tightening some more, the two of you fall back onto the velvet couch. you gasp at the impact, causing sylus to slide his tongue in, capturing your own in a heated dance that he seemed intent on leading. you shakily wrap your arms around sylus' neck, trying to keep up with his relentless kisses. out of the corner of your eye, you see sylus' tail desperately swaying left and right. an idea flashes in your head. as sylus continues to swirl his tongue in your mouth, you raise your hand from his neck and gently tug at one of his cat ears. sylus jerks violently, mewling filthily into your mouth. taking that as a sign of encouragement, you continue playing with his ear, causing him to lose himself more and more in your lips, your scent, your everything. 

when the two of you grow in need of breaths, sylus pulls away, panting the same rhythm as you. you had no idea how gorgeous you looked right now. splayed out underneath him in tempting attire that was of his signature color. hair disheveled, cheeks rosy, lips swollen, eyes teary—god, you were going to be the death of him. tenderly moving a stray hair out of your face, the silver-haired man speaks.  

"so, what is your first command, my lady?"

extra:

you inhale sharply as you jolt out of bed. what the fuck was that?  you breathe rapidly as you take in your surroundings. sighing a breath of relief, you find yourself back in your room and your comfy pajamas. tiredly rubbing a hand over your face, you start to agonize over the fact that you dreamt about making out with sylus. not only that, you dreamt about making out with him in cat ears. why? you're not sure what this says about you as a person, let alone your growing attraction to him. did you have a thing for pet pla—you don't let yourself finish that last thought. ruffling your hair in frustration, you fall back onto your pillow, determined to recover from that dream. you decide that you are going to avoid sylus for a few days. 

shifting into a comfortable position, you shut your eyes and wait for sleep to find you, causing you to miss the mechanical crow with glowing red eyes flying away from your window and into the night. sylus, viewing the surveillance screen back at his grand residence, tilts his head in curiosity, a subtle smirk appearing on his lips.

 "what did you dream about, kitten?"

[swuumi]

kento isn’t much of a talker.

whenever you come home from work, he’d always be there on the couch, spreading his arms to as a welcoming gesture.

laying on his chest, you then talk about your day, what annoyed you, and the latest gossips in your workplace.

“i just don’t know why would she do that, you know?”

and kento just grumbles, his way of agreeing with you, too focused on looking at your features.

“then, get this! she still took him b—” you cut yourself off, he looks uninterested.

were you talking too much..?

“why’d you stop, sweetheart? continue, what did she do?” kento says, snapping you out of your haze.

“she still took him back! the amount of advice that i gave her, she didn’t even apply any of those!” you huffed in annoyance.

kento hums, “it’s on her if she gets hurt again, sweets.”

“ugh, i don’t care about her anymore.”

kento was still scanning your face, his thumb caressing your cheekbones.

“i missed you, ken.”

“i missed you more, my love.”

you slowly move to kiss him, his hold on you tightening.

“i love you.” he mumbled in between kisses.

“i love you, too, kento.”

he slowly sits up to stand, with you still on his arms.

“don’t drop me, ‘kay?”

he chuckles, you snuggle your head on his neck and gave it little pecks.

“do you ever get tired of me yapping?” you asked him.

“hearing your voice puts me at ease, i find comfort when we’re like this. i love when you talk, sweetheart. i may look uninterested with everything that you talk about but i’m really not, i’m most likely just distracted by your gorgeous face.” kento mutters as he opens the door to your shared bedroom.

“oh my god, kento.”

“yes, love?”

“i need to wife you up.”

“hm, we’re gonna need to plan another wedding then, huh?” he chortles.

kento isn’t much of a talker, but he can be a little chatty when it comes to you.

[greengoblinswifey]

Super Eater—Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— nicholas loves eating your pussy, anywhere and anytime. based on this request.

warnings— oral(f receiving), overstimulation, praise kink, pussy worshiping.

a/n—the title is actually sending me LMFAOAOA. working on the requests slowly but surely <3

Nicholas had a devotion to your pleasure that was almost relentless. Every so often, he’d give you this look—a mix of awe and pure need, and you’d know exactly what he wanted, to eat you out. It didn’t matter where you were; he was completely undeterred by anything. He did not care. All he cared about was his tongue in your pussy.

One night, the two of you were driving back from a date, winding down a quiet road surrounded by trees. Without warning, Nicholas pulled over, his face determined and eyes gleaming. “Nick, what are you doing?” you asked, your laughter mingling with excitement.

He gave a sheepish grin before his voice dropped to a murmur, filled with that familiar intensity. “You know I can’t wait, I need to taste you now.” The night proceeded with your legs in the air in the backseat of his car, and him not caring about the slight uncomfortable position he was in as his tongue sucked on your clit.

Then there was that afternoon while out shopping. The two of you had barely stepped into a dressing room when Nicholas gave you a look that you recognized all too well. “We’re in public,” you whispered, but he only shook his head with a playful smile.

“No one will hear,” he reassured, already leaning in. “I just need to show you how much I love eating your pussy.”

At a family gathering, Nicholas found a chance to slip away with you upstairs, where he gently pulled you into an empty bathroom. You let out an incredulous laugh, whispering, “This is not the place.” But he just gazed at you, completely unbothered, his cheeks flushed with his usual sweetness yet edged with that fierce determination.

“I don’t care,” he murmured, his voice reverent. “I need to feel you cum on my tongue.”

As usual, you gave in to his need and ended up with your own panties in your mouth as Nicholas lapped at your juices. Your taste was better than anything his family had cooked that evening.

Another time, the two of you were at Cooper Koch’s rooftop party. The music thumped in the background, people mingling just outside the stairwell where you both slipped away. He had that look again, and you couldn’t help but giggle as he pulled you close. “Here? Seriously?”

With a soft, unbothered grin, he whispered, “I just need a few minutes to eat you out baby, you drive me insane.”

After each of these spontaneous moments, you couldn’t help but ask him. “Nick, I don’t get it. You love doing this more than anything. Why?”

He chuckled, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks, before looking at you with complete sincerity. “I don’t know if I can put it all into words. It’s fucking everything about you,” he said, voice reverent, “the way you smell, the way you taste, I love watching you lose yourself, how you get all squirmish.” His voice softened even more, gaze affectionate yet intense. “I just want to make love to you like this. Make love to your pussy, show you how much I fucking love it. It’s about you and making you feel good, that’s all I fucking need.

His words though so dirty, left you feeling adored, with no doubt of just how deeply he cared about your pleasure. He absolutely worshiped you, especially your pussy. He always believed women when they would talk about the power of the pussy due to how much power yours had over him. It was like it was tethered to him, like it called out to him. Like it craved his skillful tongue the way he craved to taste and savor it too.

One night, a particular premiere you attended was packed, the energy high, and the atmosphere electric. You and Nicholas had just snuck into the bathroom for a quick breather when he turned to you, eyes filled with a familiar look of lust.

“Nicholas, no,” you whispered, laughing softly as he stepped closer, his hands wrapping around your waist. “We can’t, not here.”

“I need to,” he murmured, almost pleading, voice husky and low as he licked his lips. “Please, I can’t wait. I know you’re aching to have my mouth on that clit.” His lips ghosted along your jaw, and before you could say no again, you felt yourself giving in.

The way he touched you was always more than gentle—it was worshipful, his mouth leaving you breathless and gripping onto him for support as he’d make you feel like you were the only person in the world. His skillful movements had a way of knowing exactly what you needed, drawing out every little sound until you couldn’t think straight.

When you finally left the bathroom, both of you were trying not to laugh, cheeks flushed and pulses racing. You caught a knowing smile from Cooper waiting outside who must have heard, and Nicholas just pulled you close, grinning as you both walked away, hands intertwined.

“That was risky,” you said, breathless and still tingling.

He just smiled, leaning close to whisper, “Worth it. That pretty fucking pussy is worth every second of it.”

He loved when you were in the comfort of your own home, how he could bend you over anywhere, and anytime—not that he couldn’t and didn’t do the same thing when you were out. It’s just that being at home made him able to savor you even more. There was no one to interrupt, no reason to look over his shoulder, no reason to make it quick though still savoring your taste but faster as to not raise suspicion.

If you were in the kitchen making something in those tiny little booty shorts, your coils free and just one of his t shirts draped over you, he’d hike it up, pulling down your little shorts and burying his face in your plump ass, his tongue darting to lick your pussy from the back. You’d be standing up convulsing, your hand gripping the counter as he knelt down behind you, absolutely ravishing you like a man possessed.

He would not stop until your legs turned to jelly and you’d fall to your knees, but he was relentless.

On this particular night, something feral awakened inside him. He was always feral but there was something different. Maybe it had to do with you being out of the country with your girls for the week and not having any physical contact. Whatever it was, it had Nicholas worked up the moment you left and the moment you called him to pick you up from the airport.

He hugged you tightly, placing your bags in the trunk and you immediately noticed that familiar glint in his eye. You sighed internally, knowing this would probably lead to a session on the side of the road but you were shocked when he just drove straight home. Though, his hand remained on your thigh the entire drive, moving to your clothed pussy and rubbing periodically.

“Fucking hell you tortured me,” he began, “one whole fucking week without your pussy in my mouth.”

You rolled your eyes, staring out the window as you pulled into the driveway, not knowing just how serious and feral he was.

You barely finished your long, relaxing bath when Nicholas appeared, sweeping you into his arms before you could even catch your breath. His lips crashed against yours, desperate and needy, his hands trailing over your still damp skin as he pulled you close.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice thick with longing. “I missed your taste, your scent, the way you’d writhe under my touch, scream my name, fucking the everything. I need that pussy, now.”

His intensity left you breathless, and before you knew it, he was leading you toward the bed. “Sit on face,”he whispered, eyes dark with anticipation. “Let me show you just how much I worship this pussy.”

You felt a shiver run through you as you settled above him, and he looked up at you with a grin, his hands holding you close as he murmured, “Perfect.” His movements were filled with a fierce, passionate need, each touch and kiss a reminder of how much he’d missed you, his hands steadying you while he worshiped every inch.

The feeling was like ecstasy, you were high in the clouds from the way he lapped at your juices, his tongue flat against your pussy then curling and flicking exactly where you needed it.

His little moans of content had you shivering and holding on to the bed frame for support.

You gasped, overwhelmed by his intensity, and he looked up, grinning as he said, “Don’t hold back, I want it all.”

You couldn’t hold back if you wanted to, his tongue was practically penetrating your hole as he shoved it inside, sucking and licking everything that came out of you.

“I love this pussy, you’re amazing, everything about you,” he groaned.

Your cries grew louder and more desperate, each time you felt like you were on the edge, he’d slow down his movements.

“This pussy is heaven, I’d die if I couldn’t have my mouth on it.”

“God, mm- this fucking pussy has me in a chokehold.”

“So tight, you’re just clenching around my tongue.”

“You’re so perfect, this pussy is perfect in every single way.”

“I could have you on top of me for the rest of eternity.”

“Grind on my face, rub your pussy all over my face, give it to me baby.”

His words had you sobbing in pleasure, and he kept you on edge so you could get even more sloppy and needy for him. Your pussy practically soaked his mouth and was dripping down his chin.

“Please Nick, I really need to cum,” you pleaded.

“Just a bit more baby, I need to have you soak me a little bit more.”

Nicholas had you on the edge for what felt like forever, teasing and taking his time, his mouth moving over your pussy with a focus that made every nerve in your body come alive. He looked up at you now and then, that glint in his eye as he paused just when you were about to fall over the edge, whispering praises and reassurances.

“Fuck, I’d do anything for you, you have me under your spell,” he murmured, his voice warm and low, sending another shiver through you. “So perfect for me, every single part of you.”

Every time you felt yourself getting closer, his pace would change, drawing you back just enough to keep you in a state of dizzy anticipation. The way he looked at you, like you were all he ever wanted, made you melt as he made love to your pussy and worshiped you.

Finally, when he decided you’d had enough, he held you steady and whispered, “Let go for me baby, I want you to squirt all over my face, I’ve got you.”

At his words, the dam inside you finally broke, and the release was overwhelming. You trembled beneath his touch, feeling completely lost in the intensity of it as he held you, anchoring you through every moment. You soaked him, your orgasm spraying from you as his face and chest was drenched in your juices. His grin, proud and gentle, was the last thing you saw as he lifted you from on top of him lay you down and kissed you softly, murmuring, “Perfect. My perfect girl.”

[peachysunrize]

Empty Promises ⥃ Dark!Aemond Targaryen

Summary: the closeness between you and your twin brother doesn’t go unnoticed by your uncle, but your bond will shatter when he is betrothed to your cousin, lightening a new path for Aemond to get his revenge.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!!! Dark!Aemond, manipulation, DUB CON KIND OF? main pairing: Aemond x Strong!reader (Rhaenyra’s daughter/Jace’s twin), side pairing: Jace x twin!reader (They’ll end pretty quickly lol), JACE AND READER ARE 18!! targcest, incest, mentions of pregnancy, p in v sex, breeding, rough sex, degradation, English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 4.6k+

A/n: so heheh I received this ask and rambled about it to beloved @anjelicawrites and she helped me with this one shot!!! Tell me what you think about this one shot, lovies, and don’t forget to reblog and comment!!!

“Mm, maybe we should keep our distance during our stay here,” Jace mumbles against your lips, his arms wrapped around your waist as he corners you to a wall, “We might get caught,”

“But why? Mother said it herself that we are to be betrothed soon! It would not raise any suspicions.” You try to lean down for another kiss, but he pulls back a little, his warm hand resting on your cheek, “Besides, we have already done more than just kissing, yet I am still a maiden!”

“That you are, beloved sister,” he presses a quick kiss to your cheek, backing away from you as soon as he hears a rush of footsteps in your direction, “Do not pout.”

“I’m not pouting!” you scoff, looking away from him as you cross your arms over your chest. “But I am displeased with you! You promised we would be wed soon and that we ought to wait until we are husband and wife to explore… different sides of our companionship.”

“Because tainting your purity is the last thing I want, my love,” he reaches to loop your arm through his, kissing the side of your head before he looks at Luke who jogs toward you, “What is it you want, Luke? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Busy doing what? Annoying our sister?” Luke looks between the two of you, raising his eyebrows as he sees your flushed face and Jace’s swollen lips, “Or perhaps being inappropriate with our sister—“

“Mind your tongue, Luke,” you say, tightening your arm around Jace’s, looking at him pleadingly, knowing your younger brother’s big mouth that always gets you and your twin in trouble, “Do not make me mad, it will not end well for you.”

“I wish mother would betroth you two already, it is awfully obvious how… involved you are with each other,” Luke shrugs, walking ahead of you, forcing you and your brother to join him, “You must be careful, this place has eyes and ears and they are already looking at us with disgust.”

“Lucerys,” you sigh, resting your head on Jace’s shoulder, smiling softly when he kisses your forehead, his lips lingering on your forehead too long for the court’s liking, “Don’t let them win, little brother. Do not give them a chance to belittle us, we are Princess Rhaenyra’s children. Silver-haired or not, we have royal blood surging in our hearts.”

“She is correct,” Jace cups your cheek in his hand, his warm eyes looking into yours — identical to his — before he leans down to whisper against your lips, “We might not have the hair, but we own the name, and the costumes.”

“That is right,” you press a quick kiss to his lips grinning when he does not look away from you, groaning when Luke makes a gagging sound. You look at your younger brother, raising your eyebrows at his visibly disgusted expression, “One day, you will hold such affection for a lady, and we shall get to tease you for it endlessly!”

“I doubt we would need to wait for long, dear sister,” Jace smiles, his hand coming to rest on your waist, gently squeezing you before he resumes talking, “Have you noticed how flushed he gets when Rhaena talks to him—“

“Nephews.”

There they are.

The infamous Dragon princes, walk with their heads held high and chin tilted up as they both stare down at the three of you over their noses.

Aegon is just as you remember from years ago; he has unruly hair and a lazy smirk as he stares at the three of you.

Your younger uncle though, is much more put together; his hair is tied out of his face, neatly brushed and shining while he scans the entire hallway from one corner to the other, his gaze lingering on you and Jace’s linked arms.

“Niece,” Aemond says, his good eye solely focusing on you, ignoring the terrified faces of your brothers who try to play it cool without staring daggers at Aegon who tries to intimidate them by only smirking. The younger Targaryen brother, though, does not show how he feels up front, just cocking his head to the side as he starts talking, “How you have grown to a lady, dark hair and all.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” you reply, face as stoic as possible but soon the mask slips and you look at your twin brother and smile radiantly, enjoying how safe his arm feels around yours, “But it seems with all the years passing, your eye hasn’t grown back.”

“My, she’s got a mouth on her,” Aegon chuckles, running a hand through his tangled hair as he snickers at Aemond.

“Indeed she has,” Aemond says, stepping forward, closing the distance between you, and glancing at Jace who pulls you closer to him, his brown eyes meeting Aemond’s bright blue orb, “No wonder she has her dog running around her, sniffing and barking when threatened.”

“Easy, easy,” Aegon laughs, putting a hand on Jace’s chest when the dark-haired prince strides closer. Aegon holds him back, glancing at Luke who tries to appear brave while he trembles and looks between his siblings and uncles, “My brother is… too honest for his own good, nephew.”

“He is rude,” you whisper, chest heaving as Aemond leans even closer, towering over you as he raises a hand to your exposed neck, caressing the skin with the back of his fingers, until he reaches the neckline of your dress, slowly tracing the outline of the blue mark that is lightly visible.

“Hmmm,” Aemond’s eye drops to the mark before he drags his gaze up to your face, taking in your flustered expression, before he looks at Jacaerys, “It appears you are trying hard to get accustomed to Targaryen costumes, my Lord and Lady Strong. Such… proximity is seen as inappropriate in this castle. Mayhaps you have forgotten the rules of the king’s court.”

“Jace, don’t listen to him,” you sigh shakily, looking away from Aemond before tugging on Jace’s hand, stepping away from your uncles before you pull your twin brother away from them as well, cocking your head for Luke to follow your lead and back away from the blonde men, “Let us join our sisters for lunchen.”

“Yes, best to leave and make yourselves ready for tomorrow,” Aegon waves at the three of you as you walk to the opposite of the hallway, ignoring the older prince’s snickers, but Aemond’s gaze is too strong to turn a blind eye to it, especially with how hot the place he touched feels like.

“I am nervous,” you mumble against Jacaerys’ neck, tightening your arms around his middle as he hugs you back just as tightly, “Luke is distressed, he is frantic and I doubt he would be able to appear strong in front of the court and the Hand.”

“Mother has it under control, beautiful,” he whispers, sighing against the crown of your head as you both rest on the chaise in his chambers, empty plates on the desk in front of you, “Daemon will help her in the court today, do not worry.”

“Jacaerys,” you mumble, sitting straight to look into his eyes. “You promised we would wed after we strengthened Mother’s claim, and she agreed, but we are yet to be betrothed. Why? Why are we delaying such a happy union, brother?”

“We are not, my sweet,” he cups your face, closing his eyes to try and hide the annoyance that you can clearly hear in his tone, “We need to think of our family first, our lives and Mother’s inheritance are already a threat to our happiness. Do not forget about your duty to our family and the realm, you are a Princess.”

“That is irrelevant, Jacaerys,” you put some distance between the two of you before standing up to put on your gown, making sure the bruises and marks on your chest are fully covered beneath the fabric, “I know what I must do as a Velaryon Princess, but will it not make you happy to have me as your future queen?”

“I promised you since we were ten and one that, you are to be my wife when we grow older,” he replies, covering his face with his hands, “I intend to keep that promise one way or another. Now, put on your clothes and join us in the Throne room.”

You watch him leave after he fixes his coat, giving you space to finish lacing your gown as best as you can, brushing your hair so your Mother does not notice your disheveled appearance, and using a hair clip to pull the front of your hair back as the final touch.

With a sigh, you leave your twin’s room, walking gracefully downstairs to reach the throne room, passing ladies and lords who bow their heads and greet you, making your nervousness only grow worse by their stares.

The doors are open and you take your time while walking toward your family, greeting your now stepsister Baela with a radiant smile, conversing with her easily before you notice your grandmother and greet her as well.

The feeling of someone watching you makes the hair on the back of your head itch, and the heat of their gaze burns your skin and as soon as you turn around, the feeling is long gone, because your eyes lock with his good one almost immediately.

Just as the day before, you feel breathless beneath his eye, desperately hoping for him to look away and let you have a moment of peace before the Hand comes and once again questions your legitimacy.

Aemond does not look away, his stare is locked on yours or more specifically, looking at your gown where it is covering the bruise he touched before, a ghost of a smirk finding its way on his thin lips when he can not see the blue mark.

You turn around and join your brothers and family on the opposite side of the room, watching the Hand making his way to the Iron Throne, sitting on it, and observing the crowd.

You know how everything is going to happen; Vaemond Velaryon will question your brother’s legitimacy and by extension you and your twin brother as well. You are more than glad to feel Jace’s closeness throughout the exhausting trial, his hand on your waist as he tries to keep his anger at bay.

The room grows oddly silent when the doors are pushed open and your grandsire, The King, limps toward his throne slowly, the rotten side of his face covered by a golden mask. He sits in his rightful place, panting before he starts talking, demanding to know what is all the mess his family created.

Your grandmother is asked to give her own petition on behalf of your grandsire, and what she says makes your eyes grow wide, lips falling apart as you let out a shocked gasp before pulling your hand away from your brother’s grasp.

“As a matter of fact, Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons, Jace and Luke, to Lord Corlys’ granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena, a proposal which I heartedly agreed…”

Your lips tremble, and the world around you fades away as your teary eyes find Jace’s trembling lips, shushing you gently as you put more distance between, hiding behind Luke and Daemon.

You see your Mother’s bright smile as she turns to look at Jacaerys, but she catches a glimpse of you and sighs, lowering her gaze to the floor before she looks back at Rhaenys and nods at her.

You catch Aemond’s eye, realizing your interaction did not go unnoticed, but the ache and betrayal outweigh the utter humiliation you feel at the moment.

You do not pay attention for a second, lost between your own thoughts and the news of your brother’s betrothal to someone other than you until you see Daemon pulling his sword out and the next thing you knew is Lord Vaemond’s head on the floor.

You gasp eyes wide in terror as the tears finally fall down, but across the room, you see Aemond’s flushed cheeks as he drags his eye from the headless man on the floor to you, his bright iris shining with what could only assume lust and intrigue.

His gaze awakens something in you, something only Jacaerys used to do, but seeing your uncle flushed and breathless while his eye is solely focusing on your face has your heart pulsating more than before.

Without so much of a glance at your family, you bolt outside of the throne room, pushing people out of your way forcefully to move past the guards and leave the hall.

With your gown in your fists, you rush upstairs, tears running down your face as you hear your name being called by your twin brother, following you upstairs with haste, skipping a step or two to reach you before you run away once more.

“Please, sister, listen—“

“Listen to what?” You yell, turning around abruptly, digging your nails into your palms, “Listen to what, Jace? You were fooling me all this time, keeping at an arm’s length! Did you know about this?”

And the defeated face he makes is enough to answer your question.

“You did, did you not?” You chuckle in disbelief, resting your hand on your chest as you blink the tears away. Even the sight of him makes your heart clench in pain, “Waiting for marriage…what utter nonsense! Did you even love me or were you lying to my face this whole time just to secure a match for yourself?”

“Of course I love you! You are my sister!” He screams back, his hands falling limply next to his body, “I could not live with myself if I tainted your purity! Our lives are hanging on a thread because of our—“

“Because we are fucking bastards, I know that Jacaerys! But Mother promised us to each other, she told me, in fact—“ you laugh halfheartedly to cover up the sob that nearly made its way up your throat, “You said it yourself! We would marry one way or another, now you are telling me you did this for Mother. You told me you loved me.”

“I do! Just not enough to fight with our future queen over it!”

Your lips quiver, watching as the man you used to love turns into a stranger; you nearly gave yourself to him in one of the many nights that the desire got too strong, and he pushed you away just as he has done a hundred times. 

“If I am to be king one day, I need a strong queen who will bring me power, not to make me appear weak,” Jace whispers, and that is your undoing. With a violent shake of your head, you grab your skirt in your hands and run upstairs, trying to hide your tears from the passing servants until you are safe in the confines of your own chambers.

You should not be ignoring everyone, not when with Daemon’s help, your mother managed to keep Luke’s inheritance in her grasp, but even the thought of your sweet sister Baela being betrothed to Jacaerys makes you nauseous.

Instead, you are crying on an abandoned balcony with no guards or people in sight, tightening the shawl around your shoulders as the cold breeze hits your heated cheeks.

There are many emotions running through your head now, and the more you spend time thinking about them the more you feel like throwing up. Did your brother really put on a mask to hide your mother’s intentions by whispering reassurances to you?

“You were dearly missed at the supper.”

You hear his voice, the deep soothing voice of his that cuts through the silence. You clean your nose with your napkin, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from snapping at him.

“What do you want, Aemond?” You manage to say without your voice breaking, gazing off to the distance while your tears dry and new ones burn your eyes.

“Jurnegon rȳ nyke,” look at me, he says, patiently waiting for you to turn around, and when you do not, he sighs, one hand reaching to move your hair to your left shoulder, caressing your neck with his knuckles, “Don’t make me repeat myself, niece.”

“Leave me alone, Uncle!” you cry out, hair whipping into his face as soon as you turn around, pushing on his chest as you scream at him, “I am sick of you taunting me! I know how humiliating it was and how much you must have enjoyed watching me and my brother fall apart! Surely you have already jabbed him with your words, calling us bastards and our mother a whore!”

“Mind your tone—“ he grabs your wrists in his large palms, pulling you closer until your chest is pressed against his, and he takes his time observing your face — tears coating your cheeks, lips trembling with anger, the agony of betrayal evident on your face.

You try to wiggle out of his hold, digging your nails into the side of his wrists but he tightens his grip to keep you close while he lets go of one of your wrists to cup your chin with his palm, his thumb caressing your jaw.

The heat of his gaze is enough to blossom a new warmth in your chest; it is not unkind, not what you are used to. It is… welcoming, careful, as if he is afraid you would break in his hold.

“Shh,” he shushes you, cupping your cheek completely before he wipes a tear that threatens to fall from your lashes, “Nothing is worth your tears, certainly not your idiot brother.”

“Do not call him an idiot, I love him!”

“Does he love you just as much?” He shakes his head, catching another tear with the back of his fingers, wiping your cheek gently, “He hurt you, sweet girl.”

“He-he promised me—“ a sob breaks out, your throat burning as you try to explain. You know you should not, especially not to someone who openly despises you, but you can not stop yourself, not when his hands moves to round your waist, his face leaning closer as he looks deeply into your eyes, “We were to be betrothed, but he betrayed me, so did Mother!”

“What did they do?” He asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, “You can trust me, Tala,” Niece, he says and keeps you close, merging you into his arms, and you melt right there, looking up at him with watercolor eyes.

“She betrothed him to Baela,” you whisper, fisting the front of his doublet, holding on to the fabric tightly as you sob, but he does not let you hide your face from him, no, he stares deeply into your eyes, watching each tear fall on your wet cheeks. There is a dangerous glint in his only blue orb, as if he is stripping you naked of the mask you always put around him and his family — and to your surprise, you realize he has done that successfully and you have allowed him, “He lied to me that…”

“Go on, sweet girl, tell me what that bastard did to you.”

“We were involved with each other more than it’s deemed appropriate… but he never tainted my purity, always pushed me away and made me… he made me feel as if I did not rouse something in him anymore when he would tell me we ought to wait for marriage.”

“Idiot,” you frown at him, but gasp when he gently pushes your head to the side by cupping your jaw, making room for his face as he ghosts the tip of his nose over your neck and down to your shoulders, “How could he hold himself back while he could have you like this all day?”

“I-I don’t…” you trail off as soon as he presses his pink thin lips to the junction of your shoulder, nipping at the sensitive skin, “Aemond.”

“Oh, sweet girl, he did not love you,” he groans against your neck before he detaches himself from you, “He is a fucking fool, I would have never let you leave my bed if I had you.”

“What-what do you mean he didn’t love me?” You stutter, mind hazy and limbs shaking; only Jace used to have you like this, but the intense desire was not this strong even then.

“He loves the idea of controlling you, taking his pleasure then tossing you aside as soon as duty comes forward,” he straightens his back, looking down at you over the bridge of his nose, “He does not deserve you. The Seven knows I would have worshipped you in every corner of this Keep, nothing would have stopped me from showing you how loveable you are.”

He nods and leaves with his hands clasped on his back, leaving you alone once again with your thoughts and a furiously beating heart.

You do not know what possesses you as you take a path you have never thought you would: walking downstairs to one of the ground floors, taking the hallway on your left until you see the flicker of several candles. With the final step you take, you see him sitting on one of the chairs, his legs crossed as he reads a book.

Aemond’s hair is down, and he is only in his breeches and a white undershirt, but the smirk on his lips when his eye falls on you breaks his character.

“Niece,” he says, uncrossing his legs as he spreads them, his arms dangling from the sides of the chair, his eye running over your night attire being finally visible to his gaze, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” “I don’t… I don’t know why I am here…” you whisper, crossing the room until you are standing next to his chair, “I thought about what you said… did you mean it?”

“Every word,” he closes his book and drops it on the table in front of him before he reaches to grab your wrist and guide you between his legs, “I meant every word I said. Would you like me to prove them?”

“Yes,” you nod, reaching to pull your nightgown off but he stops you, pulling you down on his lap after turning you around, and spreading your legs over his. His hand goes under your shift, slowly yet firmly pressing his fingers against the dampened spot on your underwear, “Aemond.” “Shhh, sweet girl, voices echo in this chamber,” he whispers in your ear, pushing your underwear to the side before he runs the pad of his fingers against your pearl, enjoying how suddenly your legs clamp around his wrist, “You would not like if someone hears us, now, would you?”

You shake your head side to side, resting your head on his broad shoulder, tucking your face in his neck as he plays with your heat, rubbing the right places before he pushes a finger inside. You gasp, hiding your face more but he turns his head to look at you, his stare too intense to look away from which seems to please him beyond words.

“Did your idiot brother ever touch you like this?” he asks and shoves another finger inside, scissoring you open by curling and thrusting his digits deep inside your core, a deep frown forming on his face when you nod and arch your back.

Aemond fastens his pace, fucking you with a new rush of anger, his fingers curled and hitting the sweet spots inside you that have your legs shaking in a matter of a second.

“No one can give you the pleasure I give you,” he spits the words out, brushing his nose against yours aggressively, his pace matching his fury, “Kiss me, now.” You do not need any more convincing before you pull him down and crash your lips to his, moaning into his mouth as he brings you closer and closer to the edge of your pleasure. For a second you break the kiss, gasping for air but he doesn’t let you do so completely.

“I didn’t say you could stop, niece,” he kisses you after this, his lips devouring yours as you fall over the edge, your legs shaking and quivering as you gush over his fingers, coating them in your juices,

He finally breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on yours before he whispers, “Get on the bed, all fours.” You stand up with shaky legs, but he does not let you go too far before he reaches and pulls your nightgown over your head, stunning you with how quickly his attitude changes.

You, in all of your naity, have learned a thing or two from your twin brother, and you comply with your uncle’s commands and try to climb the bed, but Aemond’s mind has changed already.

He stands behind you, pushing you down on the edge of the bed with your legs dangling and him pressing his hips into your backside as he pulls your underwear down, revealing your glistening cunt to his hungry eye.

With one hand on your shoulder blades, he presses you down on the mattress, cock already out of his breeches and standing proudly against his covered abdomen.

“Fucking gods,” he groans deeply, the sound coming from the depth of his chest as he presses his cock into you, breaching your maidenhead inch by inch, “See, sweetling? Your brother is a moron because no man can keep away from a tight cunt like this.”

You whine, the wetness is enough to let him glide inside you with ease, filling you up and stretching your poor untouched walls out. He is much bigger than you could ever imagine, he is certainly bigger than your brother even though you have never felt him inside you.

Aemond’s starting pace is bruising, brutal even. He is fucking his frustration away, making you cry out with each delicious stroke, pulling his cock out until the red weeping tip is engulfed by your walls before he snaps his hips into the globes of your ass.

“Jace did not want you, niece,” he bends down over your back, his chest pressed into yours as he drives his cock in and out of you quickly, hammering himself in your sweet cunt, “I want you, you are mine. Your brother took my eye, now I take his sister. An eye for an eye.”

You can not argue back, not when his cock is nudging every pleasure points deep inside your core, making your head turn into a puddle. You should be embarrassed, your Mother would be furious if she found out, but he is giving you something Jace had denied you for so long, and the sheer euphoric feeling you are getting is enough to make you empty your head of any thoughts — all you can think about is him, your uncle, your devious handsome uncle you have been warned to keep away.

“Do you know what that means?” he asks, biting your earlobe as he somehow picks up his pace, thrusting himself inside you before he keeps himself pressed against you, circling his hips to drive himself deeper, “I will give you my seed from this day on until I am sure you are with child; a precious Targaryen heir. Then I will make him the king after me, and you, my beloved niece, will kill your family and rule the realm with me and our child.”

You moan loudly, walls clenching tightly around his girth as you reach your peak and that is enough to send him to his high as well; he comes inside you, dumping his warm dragonseed deep inside your womb.

“We shall rule together, niece, and that is a promise I intend to keep.”

[writerdownbookworder]

Why do you do it?

The little voice in her head never left her alone.

Why do you torture yourself over and over again?

She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, trying to drown out the noise.

You don’t have to suffer like this. Just walk away.

“No!” she shouted into her empty house. She curled into a ball on the floor, whimpering.

They wouldn’t care. They barely notice you anymore. It’s been almost two hundred years, Emmeline. Give up already.

She burst into tears, sobbing on her living room floor. 

She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, only that the shadows had moved a great deal when she finally sat up and wiped her tears.

Emmeline stood, hearing a knock on the door. When she went to answer it, she looked down and saw Jules, the youngest child of the current generation. He grinned up at her with the toothlessness of a six year old.

“My mama let’th me come all by mythelf now!” he exclaimed proudly. He flung his little arms around Emmeline and gave her a tight hug. “I mithed you, Aunt Emma!” 

She knelt and hugged him back. “I missed you too, Jules. What are you doing here?”

Jules pulled away and looked at her gravely. “It’th a thecwet,” he said, trying very hard to not spoil the surprise. He only lasted a minute before he blurted, “You have a biwthday pawty tonight!”

Emmeline looked surprised. “A birthday party? For me?”

He nodded eagerly. “That’th why you got to come ovew to my houthe tonight!”

Emeline was stunned as she handed Jules a cookie and then sent him back home. She sat at the table and tried not to cry again, this time with happiness. They weren’t forgetting her after all.

She looked over at the lone picture on her mantle and smiled at the young family in the picture. In the months after taking the photo, she had hidden it away, not liking it. She was blinking, her husband was looking at her instead of the camera, and her son was trying to walk away, held in place by only her arm. She had brought the photo back out the day after her husband died, needing to see his face again. They never had a chance to take another.

Emmeline grew to love the photo over the years, especially as her son grew and had children, and then they had children, and so on.

Jules looked so much like her son.

She wished they could have met.

You don’t have to suffer. Just walk away.

“No,” Emmeline said softly, hugging the picture. “This is my home. This is my family.

“I will protect them.”

Most immortals become the angsty “everyone I have ever loved is gone” kind of immortal. You, on the other hand, instead took it upon yourself to be a loving presence to entire generations of your chosen family, because they are descended from someone you once loved long ago.

[buckyalpine]

I love Bucky loving his body. I love Bucky loved by the team. I love Bucky having his happy ending with a family. Imagine Bucky lounging around the sofa with his little baby girl tucked in his arm, her sweet face covered in frosting after smothering half of her cupcake onto her cheeks. The icing is bright red just like Tony's suit and it's his birthday party afterall, so everything is in full swing. Most of the cupcake is squished between her fingers, very little actually making it into her mouth but Bucky doesn't mind. He chuckles, watching her with heart eyes as she happily smears it onto his crisp white shirt, babbling and cooing, now sucking her thumb.

He is absolutely unbothered by this, all he sees is his happy little baby with her cheeky smile licking up all the frosting just like her mama. While Bucky couldn't care less about his shirt, a few others certainly did.

"Better get dunk that shirt into a bucket of tide pens Barnes" Clint snorted.

"Actually the quicker you get it off, the less likely it is to stain. Take it off now" Tony's voice went from fatherly advice to a seductive growl making Bucky's face twist in amusement, pink starting to color his cheeks.

"Yeah, give the little munchkin to y/n and take it off. Cause of the stain" Nat agreed, cocking an eyebrow. You giggled watching the scene unfold before you, your husband growing bashfully shy.

"Can't hurt punk" Steve shrugged and Bucky's eyes nearly popped out of his head until he realized his best friend had been nursing a rather large glass of Asgardian mead. Tipsy Steve was always a little bit of a pervert...

"I-

"For the stain"

"I think you just want me to take my shirt off" Bucky huffed while you grinned, giving his cheek a peck before taking your little princess in your arms.

"Can't blame them handsome, c'mon, show em' how lucky I am" you whisper and that sells it. Couldn't hurt and since they were all asking...

"Just take it off!" Nat howled with a wink, a bunch of whistles when Bucky sighed, indulging the team a little. He unbuttons his shirt and hands it off to a genuinely concerned Sam who would normally make sure the shirt got sent to the cleaners but this is too good so he throws it into a bucket of cold water and is back within seconds.

"Good God"

"Jesus"

"You look fuckin' good terminator"

"Alright, alright" Bucky holds his hands up, unable to stop the way his ears are bright red, shaking his head when you blow him a kiss making him blush more.

"Body shots!"

"What?"

"Yes"

Tony's eyes glimmer with excitement, and Bucky snorts, loving the way you egg him on, his daughter also squealing with excitement.

"Go on Sarge, y'know you look good"

He lies down on the bar table, surrounded by just the team, abs beautifully flexed as Nat pours a generous amount of some type of alcohol right on his belly button.

"When else will we get this lucky" She says with a playful smirk while Steve cracks his knuckles.

"Why are you cracking your knuckles, what the hell do you plan on-

"ME FIRST" He doesn't give anyone a chance, face planting himself into Bucky's tummy, his lips sealed, drinking every bit of the burning liquor with a satisfied hum.

"How much has he had to drink"

"Who cares, me next"

"I think you've licked enough of my husband"

"You get him all the time, don't be greedy"

"That cute little chubby ball of frosting and giggles is enough evidence you get him every which way, besides isn't there another one cooking, y'can't have any now git"

"Blink twice if you need help"

"Bro looks like an angel"

"Why aren't you blinking"

"Crafted by the heavens"

"You like this, don't you"

Bucky can't help but chuckle, surrounded by idiots. Drunk idiots. His wife. His baby girl. Another little one on the way. All who love him. Would protect him. Life was good.

[talaok]

Give up

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: Once again you've found an excuse to invite your neighbor over, except for once you might be able to make him look past your age difference and have a little fun.

Warnings: big ass unspecified age gap, Jackson!Joel is a softie and he's nervous and he's not so very sure about this bc of how old he is + he's out of practice. smut| oral (m and f receiving) and swallowing you know what. sub!Joel vibez all around

This wasn't anything new.

The fact that he was coming over wasn't at all surprising to either of you.

You always found a way to be around him, and no matter how he ignored your every attempt at flirting- he never said no.

It had taken all of two minutes.

You'd knocked on his door, your best little skirt and tight little top on, and faked a pout as you told him:

"There's something wrong with the shower again Mr. Miller"

To his defense, Joel really tried not to stare at your ass as you walked right in front of him to guide him to your house, but that fucking skirt seemed more of a joke than anything.

You both knew there was nothing wrong with your shower, the switch that granted the hot water had just mysteriously turned itself off once again.

This had been going on for months now, since he first arrived in Jackson... since you knocked at his door that one chilly morning to introduce yourself to your new neighbor-

All it took was one look, and you were hooked.

He was gonna be yours.

"there- 's hot" he nodded, shutting the water off once he'd made sure it worked properly again, before drying his hands on his pants.

"thank you so much Joel" you smiled wider than necessary "What can I do to thank you?"

And no, you didn't even try to make your words not sound dirty, quite the opposite actually.

He cleared his throat, his eyes breaking from yours in a nervous shift.

You always did that- had this annoying effect on him.

"'s nothing darlin'" he shook his head, "didn't even take five minutes"

"Still- I feel like I owe you," you said, biting down a smirk

Shitshitshit

"How 'bout some cake?" you suggested just as he was about to have a stroke.

"sounds good"

__ __ __

"'s real good darlin'"

"thank you" you smiled happily, watching him clear his plate in under a minute

Yeah... you were a great baker, what can I say

"you want another slice?"

"You spoil me sugar," he laughed, patting his belly "I can't"

"alright" You couldn't help but softly laugh as you placed his plate in the sink.

You caught him looking away just as you turned around, which made you smile to yourself, a smile that only widened when you noticed the chocolate on the corner of his mouth.

"Oh Joel"

"Mh?"

You sat beside him at the table, your legs brushing against one another as you leaned closer.

"You've got something... right here"

You swiped the chocolate off with your pointer finger, making a show of popping it into your mouth to clean it.

His eyes remained transfixed on you as your tongue licked your digit clean until you were finally done with a loud pop.

"Jesus"

"What?" you smirked, knowing exactly what  "that gave you some ideas?"

"babygirl-" he stopped you immediately, shaking his head

"Oh c'mon Joel" you pouted, your hand going to rest on his forearm "What's a girl gotta do to get you to give up?"

He blinked, looking at you intently and nervously altogether.

"Why do ya even care about an old man like me sweetie?"

You couldn't help but laugh "Have you ever looked in a mirror, Joel?"

You swore you saw pink flood his cheeks- the man was blushing.

"Plus you're kind... and funny when you want to.... and you make me feel-" you bit your lip, trying to find the right word "safe... you make me feel safe"

He scratched his beard, but you couldn't help but notice he hadn't used the arm your hand was still on.

"'m sure there's boys here that are funnier and kinder and make you feel even safer babygirl" he spoke gently "Pretty sure most of them are prayin' you give 'em a chance actually"

You hummed, raising a brow

"but what if I don't want them?"

"You want an old man instead?" he huffed out a self-deprecating laugh.

You rolled your eyes "How old even are you?"

"old enough to be your father darlin'"

God, maybe there was something wrong with you, but those words only made your need for him burn harder.

"so?"

"so I ain't even supposed to look your way babygirl- it ain't right"

"But why?" you pouted "Shouldn't I get to have a say in what's right and wrong for me?"

He sighed, not really knowing what to answer to that.

"What if I don't care?" you spoke softly, your pointer finger on his chest, circling his pec "What if I like you, Joel? what if I wanted to show you just how much right now?"

"sweetheart" he started, shaking his head

"You'd stop me?"

And there it was, the pause... your way in.

"Joel?" you called for him, your voice sickly sweet "Would you?"

He couldn't do anything but tell the truth when you were looking at him like that.

"I don't think any man in his right mind could or would ever stop you darlin'"

Satisfaction took over your whole body.

"no?" you teased, grinning like a cat "Not even if he's old enough to be my father?"

He sighed, what looked like resignation in his eyes.

"I'm just a man sweetheart"

And that- that got him the biggest smirk ever known to man.

There was no sound, it was like the word got quiet as you stood up, placed your hands on his thighs, and slowly kneeled between his legs.

He didn't know what to do, he was genuinely frozen, torn between guilt and attraction, the need to let go, to finally do this- that his brain was short-circuiting.

You took advantage of his silence, making quick work of his zipper, and pulling down his boxers just enough to free his cock...

All your speculations got proven right there- he was huge.

"oh wow," you bit down a grin as you watched your fingers struggle to wrap around his whole base.

You gave him a tentative squeeze, and the strained groan rumbling from his chest was just about the hottest thing you'd ever heard.

"y-you- f-fuck"

You stopped him before he could start protesting, your tongue sliding slowly on his tip before leaving a little kiss right on top.

"You're so big" you hummed, your tongue licking him up from base to head, feeling every vein and twitch of his member.

He was looking down at you just as you looked at him, and he seemed... mesmerized, like he couldn't believe this was really happening, that this wasn't another one of the dreams he'd get about you at night, and that it was really your lips wrapping around him.

Goddamnit

You had barely a little more than his tip in your mouth and he was already gone- and I mean gone gone.

He couldn't even remember why he'd spent so long ignoring your not-so-subtle hints-

Just a minute ago he wanted to tell you that no, you don't gotta do that, and ask you sure about this? - But now... now all he could do was throw his head back as he realized that his lack of practice these past few years had really gotten to him, and that he already had to grab at the chair beneath him with all his strength as he tried not to come embarrassingly fast.

You hummed around his cock, and he couldn't stop his hips from thrusting upwards, a small choking sound fleeing your throat.

"goddamnit, 'm sorry baby-"

But the moment he looked down at you, he saw everything but anger... you seemed happy- you were begging him to do it again with your eyes.

But he couldn't, and part of you already knew that.

He shook his head slowly, still trying to think as straight as he could given the situation, but while he was busy with that... you settled for the next best thing... you forced his manhood down your throat all on your own.

The groan he let out was damn near feral.

You couldn't actually get all of it down there, it was the biggest dick you'd ever seen in your life after all, but you swore that with a little bit of practice (that he'd hopefully grant you), you'd get there.

Still, he didn't really seem bothered or in any way disappointed by your inability.

It was an indescribable feeling seeing this tough, rugged man shiver with pleasure before you, his eyes shut and knuckles white with the effort of gripping onto something.

"I- fuck"

He didn't even know what he wanted to say, he just... it felt so fucking good

Your head was back on bobbing up and down his length, and what used to be groans had turned to moans coming out of his mouth.

"Y-you've gotta-" he swallowed, his sentence interrupted by the feeling of your fingers playing with his balls.

"Y-you've got t-" to stop

But you were choking on his girth again

"I-'m gonna-" come

You watched him struggle with his words, his breathing, and his self-control with what would have been a huge smirk on your face if your mouth hadn't been so preoccupied.

You knew he was about to come already, it really wasn't hard to understand,

You also knew that if you stopped now there was a chance you'd get to do more later- but really, this was something too perfect to leave halfway done, and besides... you feared that if you went with your initial plan of straddling his lap and riding the man to heaven, you'd leave him traumatized.

So you didn't stop, you kept massaging his balls as you worked his dick in and out your mouth, ever so often forcing him as deep as you could and choking while drool and saliva dripped down your chin.

"J-Jesus, sweetheart- I-"

All his words came out in rugged breaths, barely coherent- his eyes were back on you, shadows of lust and need darkening his iris as his right hand went to your cheek, a gesture almost too sweet considering what you were doing.

"F-fuck"

And that was it.

He groaned so loud you probably could hear him from outside the house as he reached his climax, rope after rope of his come filling your mouth and throat.

Joel Miller had come in your mouth... and it couldn't have been any more perfect.

You didn't take your eyes off him for one second. You greedily swallowed all his spent as he breathed heavily, eyes still closed.

His dick was softening in your hand as you pulled his boxers back on top of it, a little wave of disappointment washing over your gut.

It's ok, I'll see it again soon

Just as you were plotting exactly how you were gonna get in his pants in the future, his voice startled you

"I-I don't know what to say"

A soft smile pulled at your lips

"You don't have to say anything" you reassured him as you sat back on your chair, your eyes inevitably falling back to where his boxers peeked from the unfasted fly.

"now- I won't keep you hostage any longer, 'm sure you have important stuff to do back at your house"

The frowns on his forehead deepened as his eyebrows came together in confusion.

"What?"

Now you were confused.

"I'm just saying- thank you for... this" You bit down a smile "You know how long I've been wanting it- and you can bet your ass we're doing it and more, again and again, and again" his eyes widened an almost imperceptible amount and you had to stifle a laugh "but... I'm letting you free for tonight"

He took his time to say something.

Silence wrapped around you for a good minute before he was able to mumble something.

"sweetheart-" he cleared his throat to try and clear his thoughts "I-I dunno how you're used to... bein' treated, but this ain't over"

A spark of excitement ignited in your belly

He couldn't mean...

"unless you want it to be, of course"

Oh my

"I definitely don't want it to be" you hastily spoke, almost breathless "but I would like to know what you... mean"

I mean, not to be prejudiced, but you very much doubted he could get it up again so quickly given his... well, age.

He cleared his throat again and you finally realized it was just a nervous tic and he didn't actually feel the need to.

"You should be on a bed" he avoided your question

You couldn't help but smile as you got up

"Such a gentleman"

"that's the last word that comes to mind right now" was all he grumbled

__ __ __

"sit"

that's all he said, and now there you were, sitting on your bed as he looked at you with a mix of lust and uncertainty.

Until he finally did it- he crouched between your legs.

He cleared his throat again, and you felt on the urge of cumbusting.

he was gonna eat you out

You'd only ever done this once, and even then you had to basically beg the guy, just for him to be god-awful at it.

Somehow you had a feeling Joel wasn't gonna be bad at all.

"You sure about this, yeah?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

He could probably ask you to put it up your ass and you'd say yes.

"Yes Joel, I'm 100% positive"

He gave you a little nod, and his hands- his big, strong hands- went to your thighs.

You watched him as if he'd disappear at any moment as he slowly- oh so very slowly- took your skirt off.

He swallowed tightly as his eyes fell on your clothed cunt.

If you didn't know any better you would have guessed he was holding his breath as he got rid of your panties.

"Jesus Christ"

I shouldn't be doing this- I really shouldn't be fucking doing this.

She's not even half my age- she's a kid for god's sake- I'm fucking disgustin-

Every single thought in his mind turned to dust the moment you spread your legs- the moment your wet, drenched, pussy came fully into view.

"Y-you-"

he didn't even remember what he wanted to say- and he didn't remember when his thumb had decided to find your folds, but it had.

He heard a whimper leave your mouth and he felt his cock twitch in his pants, hardening again.

It usually took him a whole fucking hour to get hard again

He looked up at you, and you looked hotter than ever before.

Your cheeks were flushed, your bottom lip was between your teeth, and you looked so... perfect.

"I haven't done this in a- while"

As he spoke those words he hoped you'd think he only meant this... as if you'd actually care about how he hadn't gotten laid in years.

"'s ok Joel" you nodded, smiling encouragingly.

He swallowed again, his gaze slowly lowering.

He couldn't believe you were this wet for him- a pretty thing like you.

His thumb moved, gently sliding up and up and up, until he found your clit, earning another little moan.

Fuck

He circled the little bud, and your cries got a little higher and he swore- he swore going to hell was worth it, worth this.

He had to taste you- fuck, he'd been dreaming about the taste of you since he first saw you- So with all the carefulness in the word, he bent down, his lips finding your soft thighs.

He could see your belly inflate and deflate with your exited breaths as he kissed his way closer and closer to your heat, until he was right there, and he couldn't help but leave a kiss on your mound, on the hair covering it so very nicely.

"Joel-" your voice was strangled "please"

If it had been twenty years ago he would have said something cocky like "'s ok baby, it's coming", his whole demeanor would have been very different too. He used to be in charge in the bedroom, always- he used to feel smug and sure of himself, but now... now he was old and out of practice, and he was... he was nervous.

But all it took was to look up at you, at those beautiful pleading eyes, to find the courage.

You wanted this. You wanted him.

And you tasted better than he could have ever fucking imagined.

A deep, feral groan rumbled in his chest as his tongue passed between your folds, as he gathered all your slickness on his taste buds, all that sweet sweet juice that felt like fucking heaven.

Yeah, now I remember why I used to love this so much

You were moaning like a desperate little thing above him, your thighs squeezing his face as your feet clung to his torso.

And he was gripping the outside of your legs, keeping you as close to him as humanly possible, his face as deep in your core as it would go.

His nose was rubbing against your clit in a way that made you see stars, and he was still lapping, not focusing on anywhere in particular, just aimlessly and desperately feeding off of you.

"Oh my god Joel-" you gasped as two of his fingers found their way inside of you.

His movements were slow, he didn't wanna hurt you, and he wanted to find what made you feel good, which is why he kept exploring until his digits curled up into that sweet cushy part of you, and he felt you squeeze him as you threw your head back.

"f-fuck!"

Your left hand had traveled to his locks, gripping them tightly as your hips frantically moved against his face to try and seek more.

His mouth was focusing only on your clit now, thoroughly sucking on it- and just when you thought this couldn't get any better, that this was the most pleasure you'd ever experienced and there was no way he would be able to top this- another one of his big, thick fingers pushed into you.

The cry you let out was something Joel would be thinking of until he was six feet under.

Three of his fingers were so much more than what you were used to.

"J-Joel" you whimpered actual tears staining your vision as you looked down at him "Oh my fucking g-god Joel"

Your gut had been right. He was really fucking good at this

He was watching you, studying every little face you made as the squelching of his fingers moving inside of you filled the room together with your moans.

"I-I'm coming"

You could barely finish the sentence that the world went bright, and the purest pleasure you'd ever felt erupted in your body with a million different blasts.

For a whole minute, you were in another universe- and Joel eagerly enjoyed the show, not stopping his movements for even a fraction of a second.

You feared the moment you opened your eyes you'd wake up in your bed after yet another dream about this man- and yet he was still here, looking up at you with only adoration in his eyes.

He couldn't help but steal another little kiss on your core before he leaned away.

"well... wow" you smiled like an idiot, your breathing still a little labored "You know what you're doing Mr. Miller"

He didn't say anything, but you saw pink flush his cheeks again as he let your legs go, robbing you of his touch.

You would have been disappointed if it wasn't for the fact he was very clearly having trouble not having his gaze fall down to your heat.

You smiled to yourself as you accepted the skirt he quietly handed you.

Seeing you standing before him with it on when he knew you were bare and wet underneath made Joel's brain freeze for a moment, but that was of course, until you stood on your tiptoes, and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"thank you for this Joel"

Your voice was so sweet it sounded angelic to his ears- but the sweetness was replaced by something very different very quickly.

As you stood back down to your normal height, your body, being flushed against Joel's, came in contact with something that very much piqued your interest.

he was hard- very fucking hard

"no babygirl"

he was already shaking his head, crushing all your dreams

"but-"

"I can't" his tone was firm, although you could still hear restraint behind his words, like it was costing him a lot to say no.

"It feels to me like you very much can" you rebutted, smirking softly.

"I- it ain't right"

Oh my god

It took a lot not to roll your eyes "I thought we were past that whole thing" you said, cocking an eyebrow "Do I need to remind you what you were doing just a minute ago?"

"that's different"

"How?"

"it just is"

"what if I beg you Joel?" you purred, your best doe eyes looking up at him "What if I told you about how much I'd like to feel your cock inside of me? How desperate I am for it, Joel- how much I need it"

He was gonna go home and punch himself in the face for what he was about to say.

But it was true, he couldn't. It wasn't right- he needed... to think about it at least

"darlin'" he spoke softly "I can't... not right now"

there it is

The smirk that pulled at your lips was the most mischievous thing in the world.

"right now" you repeated his words, biting your lip as you played with the hem of his flannel "I can live with that- but Joel...don't even think this is over"

[cuinaminute229]

With death comes life part 2

pairing: Agatha x Rio x reader

a/n: this is sprinkled with angst and fluff

part 1

...

The surrounding trees are all twisted and dead, with heavy vines hanging from branches too high to reach. What you see is a barrier. A makeshift fence that keeps the witches to the road.

The air carries a subtle fog that lingers just out of reach, shrouding the forest of the road into the unknown. Even the leaves that make up the path are all dead. Only magic keeps them vibrant with false life.

You almost feel insulted. 

Nothing here can sustain life. It never will.

The road is an abomination. It shouldn’t exist.

And yet here you are.

When you look up at the sky, a feeling of loss settles in your chest. The sky is not real; the moon is a false imitation, and the stars are all wrong. 

You will never not hate this place. 

The soft whispers of a conversation tug at your attention when you notice the witches at your back are talking about you. With a subtle shift, you slow your steps and listen in. 

They speak so carelessly about your reaction to seeing Agatha, about the anger they saw. About how they could use your emotions to drive a wedge where, unbeknown to them, there is a canyon. 

In the simplest of terms, they want to manipulate you to their advantage because they do not trust Agatha. 

Because you do not trust Agatha. It’s insulting in the most human way possible.

Where on earth did she find these people? Why did she find them?

There’s something you're missing, you just know it.

The moment you hear Rio's name is the moment you turn around, you do not care what they are going to say. Their little conversation ends now. The shift in your momentum is fluid as you turn around mid step, eyes narrow in suspicion. 

You keep your face blank when they all jump in union. The very obvious change of demeanor tells you they did not know you were listening in on them.

You let the silence linger as your eyes scan over the small group. They cling to each other for comfort, but it only takes a moment for you to recognize that their bonds as a coven are new. They are still easy to bend, easy to break.

“You know,” Your voice is gentle, giving nothing of what you feel away for them to see. “To betray one's cover on the road,” 

You spread your hand out to emphasize exactly where you all are. “To break the rules only punishes all.”

“She is the one that tried to cheat!” The pink dressed witch points out like you need to be taught, like she needs to tell you who Agatha Harkness is.

As if you don't know exactly who she is. It's almost laughable how much this witch thinks she knows more than you.

“And now one of you is dead. How tragic.” This is not the first and will not be the last time a witch loses their life on the road. Do they not understand that?

“But that death is not her fault.” This time your voice is cold, stern. It feels like you're scolding children. “You failed as a coven. So do not blame your misgivings as a group on her.”

When only silence becomes their response, you decide to turn back around and continue down the path. The next trial awaits, and you want to get this over with as soon as possible. 

But a voice makes you pause. 

“Why do you hate her?” The unexpected question knocks the air out of your lungs and the world seems to stop. As if everything dead and alive waits for your answer. 

Memories rush forward with such force you wouldn't be surprised if you can never breathe again.

The sight of a never ending forest, a small cottage tucked away from hunters and strangers alike. The laughter of a young boy with Agatha's hair and Rio's smile, a bright yellow flower in his hands.

The years before tragedy felt like a lifetime. 

You were happy. You were loved. 

You want to cry. 

With a small hitch in your breath, you close your eyes and push down the tidal wave of emotions. If you become overwhelmed, the road’s magic will latch onto you like a leech. You can't risk it.

“My reasons are my own. Focus on surviving the road.” Your words are final, empty of the emotions that are battling beneath your heart. You know you can never pick up the pieces of yourself that are broken. 

But for now, you can ignore them.

You will not let them see you like this. Never again will Agatha see this side of you.

When you finally catch up with Rio, you take notice of the house in the distance, the windows lit in a deep orange sunset light. The fog of your surroundings only adds to the ominous look of it.

That must be the next trial.

What catches your attention next isn't Agatha arguing with the boy. It's not the group of three walking over to settle whatever disagreement there is. No, it's the fact that Rio is leaning against a tree, feigning boredom. Her knife in hand, twisting it in her grip as if she's studying the blade.

The leaf in her hair is bright in color, almost like fire, and it stands out against the rich brown of her hair. As if she can sense eyes on her, Rio glances up. Her eyes find you in an instant and you give her a small smile.

She waits as you walk over to her and it's only once you stop in front of her, your back to the others, does she return your smile. She tucks her knife away and holds out her hand, a small flower blooming in her palm. “For you.” 

Your smile turns bittersweet as you reach for the flower, the baby blue petals remind you of a clear afternoon sky. As your fingers touch the stem, it flourishes. Reacting to the caress of your magic that trickles from your fingers. You hold the flower for a moment before tucking it beneath your coat. 

As you look back to Rio she pushes forwards, off the dead tree that she knows you won't touch. When she steps into your space, it feels like you’ve broken the water's surface and can finally breathe again.

“You look filthy.” You tease her before she can notice if anything’s wrong. The dirt that covers her skin and her clothes gives her a rough look, and yet her makeup is as pristine as ever. Her hair looks like she’s just rolled out of bed. There are twigs and leaves and who knows what else hidden in the mess of her hair. 

“Says the one who also had to crawl out of a grave.” Rio responds, leaning just a bit closer when you reach out to brush your fingers through her hair. Her hand settles on your waist with ease, her thumb brushing back and forth in a soothing motion.

“Which I'm assuming is your fault.” You voice your suspicion as you tug on the largest of the leaves you can see in her hair. 

To summon a green witch, let alone any witch to the road, is almost impossible. You don't even know why they tried it in the first place. 

Rio says nothing for a moment. She just lets you thread your fingers through her hair, pulling at the twigs and leaves your find. She licks her lips when you brush your thumb behind her ear, letting out a soft sigh as she closes her eyes.

An annoyed huff and angry footsteps causes you to pull back from her, suddenly self conscious. But Rio's hand catches your wrist before you can step out of her personal space. When she blinks open her eyes to look at you, her brow furrowed slightly. You can't help but give her a reassuring smile. 

Agatha is storming off again. Because of course she is. She will not wait for the two of you.

“Tell me later?” You know this conversation isn't close to over, but right now, time is essential. Rio gives you a small nod and only then do you step away from her.

Finding Agatha is easy. She's at the next trial, waiting for the two of you. The door is decorated with stained glass, the phases of the moon surround the centerpiece, which is the waxing moon. It's almost beautiful if you didn't know that danger lies just behind it.

You feel Rio just behind you, watching the group intently. The graze of her fingers on your back is a welcoming sensation when you realize who’s trial this is.

The protection witch.

With a quick scan, you find her easily, the witch with the red streaks in her hair. She looks the most nervous, hands shoved into her pockets, shoulders hunched.

The teenager is the one to usher her inside, voice reassuring. He calls her Alice and holds his hand out for her and once she takes it; he walks through the door beside her. The other two follow close behind, nerves elevated for what is to come.

When there is only you, Agatha, and Rio left at the door, the tension seems to skyrocket. 

You clench your jaw when she looks at you as if she expects you to go first, but you don't move. The door stays open and no one moves.

When Agatha’s patient wanes, she jerks her head to the door, her voice callous, and yet she can’t look at you when she speaks. “After you.”

It’s only when Rio pushes her knuckles against your lower back do you finally give in. The very moment you walk through the door, you’re blinded by a light as bright as a newborn star. It’s honestly a weak imitation, but that doesn’t mean it can disorient you any less.

As the world around you slowly comes into focus, you notice two things right away. 

One, the air is pungent with magic. It’s so bad you swear you can taste it. Two, when you turn to look at the others, you notice everyone is dressed in seventies fashion attire. 

Glancing down, you see that you too, have also changed outfits. You brush your fingers over the gold embroidered that stands out against the white design of your clothes. Small beads and complex stitches run in calm waves up your sleeves. As you turn your arm to follow the designs, you notice your nails are also painted white. 

“Don’t drink anything. Don’t eat anything. Don’t touch anything.” Alice tells everyone as she glances around the room with a distrust that runs deep. 

“Sounds like there’s a story there.” Rio says as she looks at Alice, brows raised in intrigue. When she catches your gaze, she’s not subtle as she looks you over. She’s adorned in black and gold. The low cut of her blouse catches your attention and you may stare a little too long. Her smile is predatory when she notices you looking. 

“The road isn’t subtle.” Alice mutters, her disdain clear.

You glance around at her words, curious about the history that this trial will bring up.

The room looks like a music lounge studio. Instruments and microphones are set out like they are just waiting to be played. The floor is covered with different rugs; the lights have a certain aesthetic and even the walls are mismatched stones with different things decorating them. 

Your eyes land on the grand piano when everyone gathers around a wall mirror that one of the witches has found, getting a clearer look at the clothes that now fit the aesthetic of this trial. You leave them to their curiosity and walk to the center of the room, a metronome catching your attention from where it sits atop the piano. 

You don’t notice her at first, brow furrowed as you brush your fingers over the edge of the piano lid. You hum a soft lullaby as your fingers tap to the rhythm in your head.

When you see her fingers graze over the piano, you freeze. When she finishes your melody, her beige nails tapping lightly against the polished black case of the piano, you step away.

You look at Agatha like she’s a ghost. 

She’s not—she wasn't—you never told her. Rio doesn’t even know.

It was only for Nicky. It was his song.  

“What are you doing?” You back up when she finally looks up at you. She can’t hide it when her eyes glance over your attire. You know her too well. The way her eyes linger just a little too long, the way she clears her throat before jerking her head back to the piano. She takes a deep breath, rolls her shoulders like she’s buying time.

She looks like she wants to say something but stops short. When she reaches for her brooch, finger tapping lightly as if she needs a physical reminder it’s still there, you understand. 

He told her. Of course he did.

Whatever Agatha is trying to accomplish by reminding you of a life you can never get back, you need her to stop.

You can't do this. The emotional whiplash is getting exhausting.

“Why are you here?” She tilts her head to look at you, her expression clouded with suspicion.

“Why are you?” You deflect her easily, asking your own question. To walk the road once and survive is akin to a miracle. Why would she come back here?

“I asked first.” She pushes into your space, eyes narrowed, her tone condescending. When you shift to move away from her, she grabs hold of your wrist. 

You don’t expect what comes next. You have no time to prepare as your magic comes alive with the contact. It’s been so long since she’s touched you that a lifetime couldn’t prepare you for her pain.

The absolute onslaught of unchecked emotions feels like agony. Her touch burns. It’s scolding hot with the centuries of anguish and hatred that Agatha has clung to. It seeps under your skin like a parasite.

You want to scream.

You need her to let go. Right now.

“I am not here for you. I want absolutely nothing to do with you.” Your words are brutal, every ounce of hatred you have ever felt is directed at her. You know you will regret this later but right now you are desperate.

Agatha steps back as if you physically slapped her. As if you ran a knife right through her heart. But she lets go, that's what you needed.

When you move away from her, cradling your wrist close to your chest, she scoffs. 

“And they call me cruel.” Her voice wavers, head turned away so you can not see her vulnerability. Your heart already hurts but you say nothing. 

The churning in your stomach makes you feel sick. You weren't expecting her to touch you. You weren't expecting your magic to respond to her.

Not like this. Not after all this time.

As you look down at your trembling hand, fingers clenching into a fist, you know one thing for certain. You didn’t feel a flicker of magic from her when she touched you. 

Agatha has lost her magic.