#you CHOSE to use it in the worst way possible and that you never really deserved that chance in the first place

[gangplanksorenji]

Kinknuary Day 2: Praise Kink

Pairing: IVE Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader

Word Count: 3,760

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

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Sophisticated and classy—that’s one of the few words to describe this girl that has been on your nerves since probably day one. You hate her attitude and so is the luck every time you’re with her as everything seems to fall out of place, maybe in the worst-case scenario, you guess. 

Well, in all honesty, you don’t hate the princess. You never did.

It’s just all about jealousy and distraught with your own confidence that whenever she steps in, it crumbles like paper—easily defeated and turned into a ball of nothingness.

Well, everything changed within a singular snap of a finger (it’s figurative, of course) and you feel light-headed just being here, with her, holding her soft hands as she reassures you. She wasn’t even going to try anything that’ll exhaust such a plethora of energy because she knows herself how her charisma and visuals can make a man fall in love with her, not to mention rejecting dozens of men trying to ignite the love in heart but failed miserably.

But here you are, being the biggest irony of Wonyoung’s definition of love… or is it?

“Come on, oppa, we even have two hours left! Please, just stay…”

You can’t and you don’t want to. She can meet you anytime around the day or even in the whole week but you know she ain’t going to give up so easily, knowing she’s not going to stop until she gets what she wants. She wanted you to stay but your job is done here, you’ve taught her well, she pays the price and you’re going to leave her. Simple, yet her charms allure you but you fight yourself against it.

“I said what I said, Wonyoung, okay? I can’t—”

“You can't what, hm?” Wonyoung thuds her foot on the floor, frustrated upon your own actions of leaving her. She grabs your wrists, pulling it with maybe all of her strength (you can’t really tell it because on how easy it is outpower her, your muscular arms against her thin figure doesn’t make it a challenge) and then pouting right after, wanting you to stay and not leave her at this moment, at least.

Well, you can’t just let herself win all the time like she was always used to. You want to see the defeat on her sparkling orbs full of anticipation and her hope being lost—

“Then leave! I don’t need you anymore, oppa! Don’t touch me ever again!”

And there she goes with her reverse psychological attempts of gaslighting and never ceases to make you feel the sudden urge of being dead inside, unable to think clearly and having struggles within deciding the most beneficial one, for you, of course.

Here’s the thing: you don’t want her yet you like her—it’s a win-win situation and why should you overthink yourself about this? It’s like you’re going to lose a lot from this or gain a lot yet you know how cranky and bratty Wonyoung can get and it’s the greatest bane of your existence. Seeing Wonyoung becoming a nuisance and ill-tempered unlocks your irascible self and you hate her for that (and thank god, it happens pretty rarely).

You wanted to fight your urges but you don’t want this to escalate further, knowing how selfish Wonyoung can be and how she won’t adjust even in the tiniest bit.

God, this girl—you muttered upon yourself as it was laced with venom, cursed and damned about meeting this not-so-angelic girl. You can’t resist your temptation either—staying with Wonyoung probably will end in both ways, hoping it’ll be good or better.

“Okay, tch—” You quickly rushed your way onto the couch, sitting on it and earning a loud thud which made Wonyoung gasp at your harsh actions of the possible damage on the furniture but you didn’t care. “There, happy, hm, Wony?”

Her earlier stern and helpless countenance was now replaced with joy and satisfaction, knowing you chose to stay (and it’s like you have a choice because it’s impossible whenever she’s near). 

“Hah, yey! You’re definitely the best, oppa!” Wonyoung sat beside you and rested her head onto your shoulder, signaling the delight that she’s feeling knowing that she’s with you and you choose what’s best for her. “I know you can’t resist me, oppa.”

“Heck yeah I can't cause you’re gonna go nuts if I reject you.”

“What did you say?” Wonyoung pouts yet the glare in her eyes are evident, and so is the distaste that she feels after hearing such unacceptable cacophony. You know that she didn’t mind it, not even the slightest so you just brushed it off with a single “Nothing, Wonyoung.” and all things went normal yet an uncanny feeling in the can be felt—no, it's just Wonyoung on her knees, in front of you—

“What are you doing, Wonyoung?” 

You don't feel so good about this and have this nerve of an unwanted vice happening anytime soon. You knew this would come and you shouldn't have given in to her wants yet the other side of you is full of anticipation as your primal desires are slowly taking over you.

“Don't be so oblivious, oppa. Let me return the favor of everything you've done earlier.” You didn't deserve such a thing, even though you're not new to this—well, also thanks to her, she took your virginity away—you still don't need this favorable return. You just helped her study and tutored her but why would this be the return? Isn't such a simple soul like you enough for a gift?

You can't turn back now; you're only going to move forward and it's just only going to get better from here.

“But why, Wony? I don't deserve such—”

“Shut it, oppa—” Wonyoung tugs your pants as those perfect, dainty fingers scramble on unbuckling your belt and loosening up the clothed defenses that protects the desired grand prize. “—now would you let your little Wony reward you, daddy?”

Of course, the pet name—it turns you on so much that now, you can't contain anything but let your animalistic desires out. You can't stop her because it's too late and in fact, you want this and you're an absolute hypocrite if you don't. 

Things went like a flash—it felt like everything felt too fast as time sped up like a rocket but you didn't care because you wanted her, utterly.

With the last clothed defense on your iron wall, it collapses down to your ankles as it was proven worthless now, your hardening member is now within the sight of her refulgent orbs—god, it just feels better, doesn't it? You're maybe in heaven but the devil is just beside you and the oxymoron never failed to be in its own party.

With the draw of her nails onto your leaking slit, it draws pain and pits gasoline of the fire—pain associated with pleasure and not close to drawing blood. 

“Oh god, Wonyoung—we don't really need to d-do this…”

“Oh stop it, daddy. I know you wanted this and let your little girl pleasure you for the time being—” Wonyoung places her lips onto your swollen head, giving it a small peck that makes you shudder, your mouth escaping beautiful moans that fuels the primal lust and ego of Wonyoung. 

She seems to be the one that likes her ego getting petted and you're here to absolutely do it.

“Such a good g-girl for daddy, Wonyoung. So skilled and so good—you're definitely loving the taste of my cock don't you, hm?”

You're getting cocky and you know Wonyoung is loving this despite the utter brattiness and hypocrisy running down her mind.

“Gah—you know y-your cock is something I can't r-resist, daddy…”

She continues her moderate bobs as your base is now getting wet with her drool that is now starting to drip all over your sensitive head and her chin. She's in her own league and in an absolute masterclass when it comes to dick-sucking—such lips made like a cocksleeve is truly the one to be treasured as it perfectly hugs around your shaft like it was molded around it, her pleasurable suction being the cherry on top.

Her cheeks hollow in every thrust she does with her talented mouth, and you're no stranger to tell her how great she's been blowing you and it only has been a minute—and god, she's making your brain go haywire.

You stroke her hair and caress her cheeks, letting her know how great she is in terms of sucking you off. “Keep doing that, baby. This cock is all for you, princess. So, so, good—god, fuck!”

And it is incredibly off the charts—the corkscrew motions of her fingers, the dance of her tongue filled with enamore and the overstimulating suction is just, nearly, too much to handle. 

No one can top off her skills as she's just a professional in this—every second sending you weak, on your knees as every technique known to enervate your defenses is being presented right now and you can't think of anything articulate except the fact that Wonyoung's mouth is exerting too much effort as it's getting near the promised land—

“Just like—that—baby, ah! So fucking good—god, how are you so incredibly talented in possibly anything?”

Stroke her ego and she definitely loves it—her pupils dilating everytime you commend her is one strong piece of evidence. It's true even though it may seem like you're playing with her and it's crazy to think about it. She may be the jack-of-all-trades when it comes to everything but it’s definitely not even close with that in accordance to her selfish and diabolical attitude—it’s contradicting but you guess it’s just the fact that she always wanted to be treated like a princess and her sophisticated life explains about it. 

Well as much as you’d wanna do the opposite, it’s going to be completely questionable if you’ll degrade the superior job she’s doing between your legs. A flick of her tongue nears you onto that finish line as well as the dexterity of her slender fingers—it doesn’t help at all, considering you still want to savor and cherish every second of Wonyoung’s masterclass, the inevitable can’t be stopped as the growing sensation in your loins is ready to unload everything inside her heavenly mouth.

“Your mouth Wony—”

Her pace is ridiculous, unmatched han any other as her warm cavern glides onto your shaft like a loose speedster, in a hot pursuit—

“—it’s too good—”

Her silken plumpness made to unleash the profanities inside you, unshackling them and bringing them to their endgame but—

Pop. 

“B-but why’d you stop? I’m so close, Wony!”

You vent out the little frustration towards Wonyoung as your high suddenly became on the lowest point, subsided even before you’ve truly noticed it. Wonyoung just pouts at you adorably, apologizing for what she's done and god, the saliva dripping down to her chin and all around your cock is just a sight to see. It was feeling so damn good until she played with you but you’re not furious about it because she’s maybe wanting something and probably—this last bit is what you’re hoping for—having multiple things in store for you, for later.

She’s only getting started and it’s only going to get better than this.

Her quivering plump lips, her disheveled hair, her beautiful façade—every inch of her perfect is such a sight for a nice canvas to be painted on but it is what it is.

“Want you in my pussy now, daddy. God—I really love your cock, so much I just can’t get enough of it.”

Yes, it’s like her favorite candy she’s ready to brag about and it’s addicting. Ever since you’ve slept with her, it became a whole different story being with her as you always envisioned the nastiest things with her whenever you think about her and it’s clouded your mind ever since. Well, now, you have a lot of things to fulfill with her and the blowjob earlier was just the beginning of a show that’s bound to happen.

“I can’t get enough of your mind-boggling blowjobs too, Wony. You make me feel—” You switch places with her, pinning her down slowly onto the couch, your face now inching closer and closer towards her. “—great and that’s what I like about this.”

Without any foreplay, you capture her lips off-guard as you make the most passionate kiss possible that’ll make her feel butterflies in her stomach. Its saccharine taste makes it insatiable, wanting more of her yet a hot half a minute of this flustering moment is enough for the both of you to exchange breaths.

“Like the taste of you, daddy? ‘Cause I do—like, a lot.” Your face was puzzled after Wonyoung said that, also confused and unsure on what to imply as you playfully retorted against her. “I mean, your lips really made everything insatiable. Just can't get enough of you honestly…”

You continue the intimacy, fueling the lust inside you by dominating her with your tongue as she eagerly reciprocates, the kiss getting too heated but Wonyoung taps your shoulder, signaling you to detach away from her lips. You don’t know why exactly she wants this to be over but with Wonyoung’s enlightenment of the climax, your mind has been cleared and awakened, and so are your primal desires.

“As much as I want to kiss you, daddy, my pussy’s been wet since I’ve sucked you off—so p-please, daddy—hng!”

And who are you to reject it? You want to pound her tight cunt as much as you wanted her today and there’s no one to stop you right now, and neither is she. With the best of both worlds, you elevated the anticipating climax yet a brighter idea will make this session a wilder ride.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom, princess—would pound your tight, perfect pussy so hard that you’re only going to think about me only.”

And there and there, everything went off the cliff, up to the highest paramount of events…

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“Too good, daddy!” Your fingers up her delicious cunt never fails to earn the most heavenly whimpers escaping Wonyoung’s mouth, let alone fueling the lust inside you as your slit leaks precum just from the sight of her tight cunt squelching and clenching around your digits.

“It’s only going to get better from here, princess—” A harsh spank resonates around the puny room as the dissonance of her orchestrated moans makes your hardened length throb in need, unable to control anything. “—because I’m going to treat you like a princess but fuck you like how you deserve it.”

“W-wha—what d-did I deserve, daddy?”

“A rough one, Wony. Since you’ve done a great job at the start…”

As the heat in the air is still ignited, you take the last bit of teasing with your digits and hard spanks as you’re lost for words once you’ve plunged your length inside her. It never gets old and she’s still as suffocatingly tight as ever, not to mention with even the slightest of movement and her pussy responses with the tightest clench possible. Gripping her hips for a small leverage, you thrust in her slowly as you ensue a few kisses onto the nape of her neck, earning such moans that just makes you want to build up the pace even more.

“Ahh, daddy—it’s so good! You’re s-stretching me—ahh—so w-well…”

“And you take me so well, Wony. Your pussy is literally made for me to be hammered, hm?” You quicken the pace, just withdrawing with only the tip inside and then slamming back in, filling her up to the hilt. She mewls in every thrust you do, further arousing you as she grips onto the sheets as a leverage on the harsh acts you’re doing on her tight cunt. Adding some spanks in every oscillation of your hips, you notice how it clenches every time you do it and you’re loving every second of it—loving how helpless and lewd your princess has become is truly a sight to behold. 

“You’re so good at taking my huge cock, princess…” Your brush off her silky-smooth hair off her shoulders as you pepper her neck and back with kisses that further makes the act hotter than what could it be. You trace the curvature of her waist down to her slender thighs that probably run for days and god, why does a princess have to be this perfect? Down every last feature Wonyoung has is in its absolute flawless state and you can’t help but be in awe as you in every ram you do inside her clenching heat is the praise of her faultless figure.

“Good god, Wony—down to your beautiful face up to your pussy, you’re just so fucking perfect aren’t you?”

“Gah, daddy! Fuck me harder please!”

A spank as the retaliation of her hostile takeover of lust has won, and you, the dominative one will orchestrate things onto your own accord, not hers.

“Wonyoung, you’re lucky I can fuck this good because no one can and you’re mine—every perfectly tight hole in your body is mine to use, do you understand?” Between thrusts you spat her with venomous yet genuine words, but she could only cry in pleasure as your thrusts are just too much for her to think of something articulate enough of a response so, it only took her ten seconds to come up with something— “Yes, d-daddy—ahh!”

Such rampant actions never cease to make someone scream in delight and it’s every man's dream to be in this position. Kiss, spank, thrust and repeat, it goes around in circles and you’re not going to stop it because you’re in a state of do-or-die (figuratively, of course) because in any second now, you can feel yourself getting on your high and so is Wonyoung’s, her pussy creaming all over your enraged length is enough of an evidence.

“Wonyoung—fuck! You’re so tight and so good!”

“Daddy I’m going to c-cum—gahh, so s-soon! Please!”

That’s the green light to bring another onslaught of thrusts with no-return, hammering her cunt like it’s rent due alongside grabbing her hair for her heavenly moans to be unshackled (and if you’re wondering, her arms gave out two minutes earlier because of too much pleasure as she rested her hair onto the mattress, muffling her moans in which, you didn’t really like). With the obviously lewd moans (almost screams) of Wonyoung and the repetitive clenching of her tight heat, you know that she’s about to get off so you gave her the final set of the harshest thrusts possible to mankind as it was too enough and all are let out.

You pull out of her gripping pussy as she squirts all over the bedsheets, your cock and even to your toned abdomen. You finger her repetitively in a deft pace that she cries in a wanton need and that even fuels you further into abomination.

“You good, Wony?”

“Y-yes, daddy—unload it a-all in my pussy—” Her shining orbs pleads you onto her desires, wanting you to fulfill it. Her pupils dilate once again, anticipating on a good note with you— “—please…”

“I’m dying to cum inside this perfect pussy of yours, Wonyoung.”

Pinning her down onto the bed (not so harshly), you tease her pussy with your swollen cockhead for a bit, in which earns the finest moans escaping her lips and so are the needy whimpers. Without any time to waste, you plunge into her dripping core once again but this time, the penetration is crazingly-deep, achieving the sensation of a lifetime that makes you feel butterflies. You command her to place both of her legs onto your shoulders, wanting to achieve the deepest penetration possible as she did and god, that felt way better than earlier and it’s too heavenly to be true.

“Ahh—daddy—I—gahh, so so good and d-deep! Fuck me h-hard—cum i-inside me—gahh, please!”

The desperation in her eyes says it all. Even with the messed-up makeup, tears and her disheveled hair all over the place, it’s not even a challenge to sense how needy she is for you and your seed to be deposited inside her. Now bringing the thrusts that surpasses the harshness of your actions earlier, and making Wonyoung the most raucous she’s ever been—all in the experience on the paramount of delight as everything seems to be at that moment, just a step away from your both desired promised lands. You weren’t far off of your high and Wonyoung can sense it through your eyes as she helps out, fucking herself onto your length as you chase your high, grabbing her waist and hips harshly as the leverage with your relentless pursuit onto her pussy.

“I’m going to cum, Wonyoung! So fucking close in this perfect cunt of yours—fuck!”

And you break, everything loose as you bury your length inside her, balls-deep as you unload everything you’ve got and your moans and Wonyoung’s blessed the entire room as it reverberated all over. With your last groan and the hard grip of her hips, your orgasm finally subsided as it was an euphoric one—it was so euphoric that you almost passed out but it wasn’t really close. Wonyoung on the other hand, laid down flat on the bed, enervated from the steamy sex session yet she smiles widely, knowing that your load is inside her pussy as the warmth of it elicits the sultriest of moans.

“Thank you, daddy—hah… For this load… Hah, I love i-it…”

That changed your demeanor from a stern, dominative one to softer, warmhearted as you blush because of her, feeling so grateful and thankful for this moment as the earlier omnipotence of power now subsided, back to your old self.

“Thank you too, Wonyoung—you took me so well… hah, that was exhausting…”

“Yeah, I know, oppa…” She brushes her fingers all over your chest, tracing it slowly as she looks at you endearingly, her eyes telling you how much she loved this moment, disregarding the fact of the pain that she felt—she liked it because it turned her on even more—from all of your harshness and spanking. She’s genuine about it and you could tell it without her even uttering a single word.

“We should clean up, oppa, actually.”

“Yeah, oh no, I think you need some new set of sheets after this.”

“You’re the one to blame here, oppa! You made me squirt so hard!!”

And the bratty, sophisticated Wonyoung is back and here we go again, back from the despair and being the bugbear she is…

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Still having Chani feelings, man. Because I think it is actually not that common to see a character (but especially a female character) whose main commitment in life is to a political struggle, and to have that be taken seriously by the narrative. Not painted as naive idealism or a trendy lifestyle choice or something the character eventually leaves behind for "real" commitments like marriage, career or children.

We don't see really anything of Chani's home life in the sietch, but it seems reasonable to infer that the fedaykin are what she's built her life around. The very first thing we learn about her, before we even know her name, is that she's a fighter. This is a core part of her identity.

She falls in love with Paul when he's willing to risk his life beside her as an equal, for a cause that she can't escape but he could walk away from if he chose. The question she asks him is not Do you love me? but Will you always be with me? Will you always be beside me in the struggle, fighting for the same things I am?

And as soon as the answer to that question is no, they're over. There is absolutely no possibility of love overriding that political betrayal, because her love for him is inextricable from coming to trust that he is committed to their liberation and not simply trying to use them. He said over and over again that he didn't want power, and as soon as he reaches out to claim it there is no way they can be together. The worst betrayal isn't watching him choose another woman, it's watching him declare himself emperor and send her own people off to slaughter others when he said he was fighting for their freedom.

So she leaves him, and we're never supposed to see it as anything but justified. There is simply no way she will turn her back on the most important thing in her life for him.

[chososdiscordkitten]

Prettier In Pink.

artist: @g00miato

Synopsis: Discovering the wonders of lingerie with Choso.

Pairing: Sub!Choso x GN!reader Content: some plot, mostly smut, no penetrative sex, he wears panties hehe, mentions of different sexual acts (him fucking r!, r! fucking him, oral ect), handjob, edging, nipple play, use of good boy, PRAISE, the mark on his nose leaks •⩊•, ik anon made it sound like teasing- but he's just soooo pretty I never wanna write edging him, he deserves to cum :> no aftercare (sue me.)

(a.n) you know how choso hyperventilated nd groaned when he found out Yuuji is his brother? yeah. that's what I listened to while writing this.

MDNI

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“Are you sure this is what you want?” Choso asked as his knees dug into the bed. Blush evident on his cheeks, the prominent black stripe on the bridge of his nose threatening to waver its lines from how embarrassed he was.

One of his hands pulled on the veil like fabric to cover his leaking tip. Precum seeping onto the thin lace panties that trapped his cock. 

This all started when the topic of lingerie was brought up. At first Choso didn't really understand the point- “Isn't it just gonna be taken off right after?” he asked as you showed him photos of potential pieces of lace you could buy. 

“Well I mean, yeah-” you scoffed with a grin, turning off your phone and looking at his expression- lost as to how it would be different from any other piece of clothing. “It's like when you choose fun wrapping paper for a present.” you grinned about the metaphor you were using, “It would be fine if you gave it to someone without it- but the wrapping makes it so much more fun.” you smiled sweetly, seeing his eyebrows furrow and thinking of receiving an unwrapped present.

“Isn't it the best part of receiving a gift?” you asked, seeing a lightbulb flicker behind his eyes, “Unwrapping it to reveal the best part?” you grinned, watching as he nodded his head agreeingly. Though the look in his eyes wasn't quite convinced. 

That was until you surprised him with a black lace set leaving very little to his imagination. Complete with a pair of sheer stockings held up by black garters.

After that Choso saw the light and the excitement in unwrapping you before sex. Only after, when you leaned over to his ear as you tried to catch your breath, whispering “Your turn.” 

Choso didn't know they made lingerie for men, he was completely unaware how they could make such delicate lace pieces for people with his build. 

That was until you came home from shopping, handing him a little pink bag with white tissue paper on the top. And as he plucked the tissue from the pink bag- revealing light pink lace at the bottom- just by looking at it he knew there was little to no fabric. 

Choso got excited thinking that you were gonna wear it- looking back up at you with sparkling eyes. Only for you to greet him with a smile he knew all too well, he looked back down into the bag. Coming to the realization that you meant what you said when you whispered that it was his turn.

And as he tried to put on the thin lace, he came to the revelation that this wasn't meant for a man's body. Little to no space in the panties for his cock to fit in, the thin thong of the panties felt like he was wearing nothing on his bottom. But he was thankful you at least chose a set that had a skirt. 

Even if it was skimpy and was held onto his waist from a single satin pink ribbon that could easily come undone- Choso was grateful that his growing bulge would be covered by the thin fabric. All too aware of the possibility that if he moved in any way, his ass would be showcased in full. Be it the slit on the back or how short it was. 

And god- the top was the worst part. Choso tried buckling the small clasp that was supposed to hold the bralette onto his chest, his hands trying to reach up to connect the endings. Trying to remember how it was supposed to clasp together. But his fingers only ever undid the clasps, never did he hook them back on.

“I'm waitinngg!” you shouted from your shared bed, impatiently waiting for him to come out of the master bathroom in the pink wrapping you carefully chose, purposefully a few sizes too small for him. And as you said that, Choso finally got the clasp to stay in place, seeing his chest fill in the padless cups of the light pink bra. 

Choso furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at himself in the mirror- a sliver of embarrassment forming in his chest as he looked at the pink bows beneath the breast cups.

He inhaled deeply- feeling the dainty lace stretch against his chest as he did. Quickly deflating his lungs in fear he might tear the fabric. The hem of the thin skirt ending right below his bulge. Thinking how it was only fair that if you wore something like this for him- he had to do it for you too.

Choso opened the door of the restroom, shuffling out and into your line of sight as you watched his hand tug at the little skirt to cover his veiled bulge. You gasped in adoration as you watched him take little steps- afraid he’d tear the over expensive lace with any movement. 

He raised his knee onto the bed slowly, glancing at your amazed expression as he settled onto the bed, his hand held onto the hem of the skirt. Hoping the see through veil would cover his cock in the little panties. 

You were sitting laxly on the bed, your back on the pillows as your hand reached out for him, guiding him to straddle you, placing one thick thigh on each side of you.

As though it was instinct, your hands pressed onto his bare thighs, thumbs rubbing small circles on his pale muscles as you gazed at his red face.

Choso’s mouth dared to pull up on one side as he watched your gaze darken, knowing that little smile on your lips meant you were enjoying yourself.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he murmured, the blush on his cheeks had to be alarming at this point. Your lips were curled in a desirous smile, having him in the frilly pink lingerie almost made your eye twitch from how cute he looked right now. 

His thick thighs caged you onto the bed, hovering right above your own as he looked down at you. 

You parted your lips as your hand trailed up and down his thighs adoringly- his hand still holding down the front of the pink veil that was closer to a belt than a skirt. 

Your gaze was dark- more greedy than anything. “I don’t think ive ever wanted anything more, Cho.” you whispered as one of your hands landed on his elbow gently, coaxing his hand to pull away from the hem. 

“It's embarrassing..” he murmured, watching as your fingers wrapped around his wrist gently, “What's embarrassing about this?” you cooed, pulling his hand away from the hem with a quiet gasp from his lips, “Hmm?” you looked at the lace straining against his cock, Choso’s tip was threatening to poke from the band of the panties as your hand rubbed on his thigh gently. 

His lips were shut tight as the air brisked against the fabric, your hands guided his hips to ease down onto your thighs, feeling his bottom rest on your legs. Finding it that much hotter that you were fully clothed, and here he was- practically naked in front of you. 

You rolled up the sleeves of your shirt to avoid a mess before trailing a hand up his side as he eased his weight onto your legs, his shoulders shivering from the gentle touch the pads of your fingers left on his exposed skin. “You look as pretty as I pictured.” you murmured as you traced your finger onto the ridges of his abs, curling your thumb beneath the pink bows on the bralette, your fingers easing onto his ribs as your other hand caressed at his exposed hip. 

He furrowed his eyebrows and lowered his eyes, not being able to handle the scalding gaze you were burning through him. Choso started shifting on your legs slowly- uneasy from the dynamic that was arranged for him. Your thumb roamed up the lace on his chest- strained from his hardened nipple beneath it. A small gasp left his throat as your thumb gently grazed over the little mound. 

Still avoiding your gaze- his hands grasped onto your shoulders in attempts to brace for whatever you had for him. And in tandem, his back arched in the slightest way, pushing his chest closer to your face. 

You looked at his expression that was littered with a mix of excitement and humiliation. Smiling before pressing a kiss onto his exposed sternum, humming as the hand on his hip lowered down to his thigh again, denting the tips of your fingers into the plentiful skin. 

Choso breathed shakily at the wet kiss you placed on where his heart would be, your lips separated by skin and bones. Trailing more sloppy pecks onto the swell of his chest, the lace grazing your chin as your thumb gently brushed back and forth on the hardened pebble beneath delicate lace, earning small whimpers from his dry throat. His cheeks were an alarming shade of red, the black stripe on his nose bridge was wavering in shape from the simple touches.

He inhaled as you licked a stripe on the edge of the lace, “Did it feel this-” he started quietly, watching your tongue wet the light lace adorning his chest. “This revealing, when you wore-” his words were cut off with a shuddering gasp by your tongue running past his laced nipple, pulling back and looking at him, trailing your hand towards his inner thigh. 

You huff in amusement at how sensitive he was. Your breath wisps against the wet fabric causing his chest to rise with a heavy inhale. “It's supposed to feel revealing.” you grinned as your fingertips danced on the pale skin between his thighs, purposefully ignoring the obvious tent beneath the veiled skirt. 

Choso was about to reply- but your lips latched onto his nipple, the tip of your tongue waltzing against the ridges of the lace. His lips parting at the sudden warmth, eyes batting closed as the tip of your tongue traced around the ring of color, deliberately ignoring the pebble beneath the delicate fabric. His hand wandered down your shoulder as he tried to suppress the throaty grunts that dared leave his lungs.

Choso was huffing harshly, only earning for his chest to press against your face. The hand dancing on his thigh traced up his side, landing on his ribs as he let out a stifled grunt from the frustration. Both of your hands holding onto his back in an attempt to keep him still, fingers splayed against his pale back. 

Choso’s hold on your shoulders threatened to grip harder as your fingers pressed onto his back bringing his chest closer to your face. You pulled your lips from the soaked fabric, pursing your lips and blowing gently as goosebumps formed beneath your fingers, your lips so close to his nipple he could feel every breath you exhaled wisp against the damp lace.

You smiled before baring your teeth, your lips pressed against them as you licked one light stripe onto the little peak beneath the lace before lightly sinking down your front teeth onto the bud. Choso gasped harshly at the faint bite, causing his chest to cave and his shoulders to shiver from the feeling. Your eyes glimmered as you looked up at him, “You're so cute Cho~” you huffed in astonishment. 

You pulled away from him just enough to take in the full sight of him, your hungry eyes scouring every single inch of skin you could see. On his chest, small circles of saliva left behind from your messy kisses. The roaming blush down his neck accentuating the evidence of your endearing pecks, causing the ache between your own thighs to pulse. 

Choso fanned his eyelashes closed, embarrassed from how long you were staring, and your gaze fell onto his abs that were starting to glimmer from the light sweat that seeped from his skin. 

Your tongue darted past your bottom teeth in reflex, mouth watering as Choso looked down to your actions. Pressing your warm tongue onto his lightly salted skin, right above the first set of the ridges of his abs. His jaw fell softly, feeling your tongue trail up to his sternum with a low hum that vibrated against his suede flesh. The taste of his skin soaking onto the palate of your tongue causing a hum in the shape of a moan to buzz against his chest.

The hand on your shoulder trailing onto your neck, keeping a gentle hold as he watched you level yourself in his sight again.

Looking at him with a seemingly innocent smile on your lips before extending your neck up, Choso met you halfway- pressing his lips onto yours as you greedily sucked his tongue into the cavern of your mouth. His hand held the side of your neck to make sure you wouldn't pull away, his eyes were shut tight, eyebrows knitted as your hands slid down to his waist. You watched him with a half lidded gaze as your tongue swirled against his. 

Choso moaned into the kiss as your hands roamed to the swell of his bottom, your soft fingers giving his ass a light squeeze. The thin skirt creased in your grip before trailing your light fingers onto his hips in unison. 

He gasped into your mouth, breaking the kiss as he felt the tip of his harrowing cock pop from the band of the little panties that only held his balls now, you snapped your gaze down- his tip holding up the skirt in the shape of a tent as his precum started pooling onto the sheer fabric, causing it to become translucent.

Choso only let out an embarrassed huff at your staring. You pouted a feigned ‘awee’ before looking back up at him, trailing your hand from the side of his thigh to the inside of it.

“Have I been neglecting your pretty cock?” You cooed, Choso sighed at the words you spoke in a condescending tone. Even if it was a sort of praise it still sounded somewhat demeaning. He turned his head to the side with a soft exhale, his chest gleaming a blush against the lace as you giggled, raising your hand slightly and looking down to the translucent chiffon on his leaking tip. 

Though he was on top, and had a bigger frame- you had the control here. 

You lightly pressed the end of your pointer finger to his reddening tip that stood proud beneath the fabric. Choso’s chest heaved at the light pressure, his lungs threatening to let out whiny moans, only for you to pull your finger away from him with a mean smile. 

You sighed a dreamy breath, taking a second to look at him with your hand rubbing the top of his thigh soothingly. “Look at you-” you gasped in disbelief, his cock twitching from the compliment, coaxing a fresh pump of pre from his tip.

You slid your hands to his waist, slowly snaking them back to the silk ribbon that held the skirt on his hips, your face was unbelievably close to his as you pulled one of the pink bows’ tails, the top of the skirt loosening by the action. Choso looked at your face, bashful eyes staring into yours as you gently pulled the thin skirt from his waist, leaning back with a gasp and looking at the pretty pink panties that truly hid nothing- 

Choso’s chest let out a hic from looking at your expression as you tossed the soiled skirt to the side. Sighing as you looked at his state, the urge to keep teasing him was strong- but the look on his face made you feel like you were being a little too mean. With a sniffle from his almost pained expression, you caved. 

You grazed the tip of your finger from the band of the panties to the underside of his cock, gathering his precum on the pad- watching his face contort in attempts to not whimper at the feeling. Your other hand rubbing back and forth atop his thigh to soothe your teasing touch. Choso’s grasp on your shoulders was threatening to firmen- needing something to grip onto if you to keep on this way. 

“What sweet boy?” you hummed almost teasingly, “How do you want me?” you whispered in a coo, your touch against his cock was light- barely applying any pressure. But it was present enough for his lips to press shut tightly in attempts to hide his moans, knowing they’d come out in strained whimpers if he allowed them to leave his lips.

He looked at you with bewildered eyes- not being able to process the question. “You wannt-” you started, pressing the pad of your finger onto his crying slit before sliding it down to the side of his cock head, “My mouth?” you smiled with a perked brow, inhaling the sight of his face at your words. 

You leaned over- your lips brushing against his ear as your finger traced down his shaft, “You wanna fuck me?” you whispered- a shiver running down his spine at your enticing offers. One of the hands on your shoulders snaking to hold the back of your head to keep you close to him.

Choso inhaled with a light whine at the breath filling his lungs- quickly releasing the air before repeating the heavy breaths littered with whimpers- all but hyperventilating as you licked a stripe against the warm cartilage. With a seducing tone, “You wan’me to fuck you?” you huffed with a smirk, carefully wrapping your fingers around his shaft in a ghost-like grasp.  

His chest was practically heaving at your overwhelming words, unable to process what you were asking. The lines of the black marking across his nose bridge becoming wobbly, showing you he was getting off on your teasing maundering just as much as you were. 

You pressed a kiss to his feverish ear, trailing sloppy pecks down his neck- gently sucking on the prominent vein on his jugular, formed from how desperately he was holding back his moans. Lightly lapping your saliva on his neck, the glisten almost looked like glass from how thick it laid on his skin.  

“You wan’your mouth filled?” You rumbled against his collarbones as you gently pressed your thumb onto his weeping cockhead.

A throaty grunt left his throat from the act, the hand on his thigh trailing up his ribs with a feather light touch. Pressing supple kisses to the swell of his chest, rubbing your thumb lightly back and forth earning a few more semi-clear tears to leak from his exposed tip. 

In a way, your offers were spoken to fluster him- knowing he wouldn't last long from the expression decorating his face, along with the unfiltered whines between his heavy breaths. 

Choso’s eyes tried to stay open- watching your tender lips press adoring kisses onto his skin, but your gentle hold on his cock made his vision fuzzy from how obscene his view was. 

Your hand reached his back- goosebumps trailing in wake of your touch. 

You hesitantly tightened your grip on his cock, feeling your pinkie graze the band of his panties that held his balls exquisitely- adding just enough pressure to keep him from cumming prematurely.

Choso could barely focus on breathing- let alone make the choice you were leaving in his hands. 

Your thumb was lazily circling on his tip- his fingers gripping onto the fabric of your shirt as your fingers reached the hook of the lacey bra that Choso spent too much time trying to clasp. 

Your lips latched on his nipple once more- this time placing all the attention on the little bud that strained against the pink lace, a guttural moan left his throat as your thumb moved back and forth in tandem with your tongue, the hand on his back undid the hook on the thin wings of the bralette, causing the fabric to become shapeless in your mouth. 

You unlatched your lips from his nipple, slipping the lifeless lace from his chest. Wasting no time before you connected your lips onto it once more, leaving nothing to separate your tongue from his puffy nipple. 

With a circle from the tip of your tongue, you pulled away from his nipple with a quiet ‘pop’ before trailing wet sloppy kisses in between his tits. Latching onto his neglected nipple, sucking harshly as his hips bucked up into your hand- enticing you to stroke him quicker. 

Choso’s whines told you what his lips couldn’t- he was close. So, so fucking close. 

His breathing was ragged, on the verge of hyperventilating as you slowed your thumbs motions- gaining a frustrated grunt from his chest. Lightly dragging it down to the little v that formed beneath his cockhead.

Your tongue lapped at his puffy nipple as he started muttering incomprehensible pleads through breathy whimpers- the pad of your thumb gently pressing onto the sensitive skin, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull with a drawn out moan.

Even if Choso decided on how he wanted you- it was too easy to let him cum from a few lingering touches. So as his shoulders started shuddering- mouth slack jawed as his hips twitched- you pulled your hand away alongside your lips from his pink nipple. Leaving him right on the edge with an exasperated whine- his head bowed down as he caught his breath. 

A saccharine smile on your lips was what greeted Choso when he managed to raise his head, a sweet expression as though you had done nothing wrong. 

Both your hands landed on the loose bra straps that dangled on his biceps, loose from not being clasped together anymore. ”Let's get this off of you-” you muttered as he eased his grip on your shoulders- allowing you to pull off the damp pink lace and toss it mindlessly.

Choso’s cock stood tall between you, the little pink panties accentuating his reddening tip that was coated in a copious amount of precum that worked better than any lube.

His eyes were low, almost asking you why you’d derive him from the orgasm he was riding up. And as though you could read his mind- “You didn't tell me how you wanted me.” you smiled sweetly, almost apathetic as you watched his glistening chest settle into a breathing pattern. Choso looked down to his cock- your hand close to it- so close he could feel your warmth seep onto his shaft. 

Choso looked at the silken precum that messied your palm, “Well?” you hummed sweetly, earning for him to meet eyes with you. His lips parted as your clean hand came up to swipe away damp strands of hair from his forehead.

He was finally able to collect his thoughts as your hand gently caressed his blushed cheek, Choso knew he wouldn't be able to act on any of your proposals for longer than a few minutes. Just thinking of your mouth, of fucking you; made his tip twitch. And he knew if you fucked him, the prep alone would take too long for his tastes. His mouth watered from thinking of you stuffing his mouth while he came-

“Your hand-” he murmured with furrowed eyebrows as you raised your own. “C-can I fuck your hand?” he whispered with an exhilarated tone. You were surprised, sure. Thinking he would have asked for something else- anything else, but he chose your hand for his own reasons. So you gave him a sweet smile before pulling your hands from his searing body. 

Reaching for the hem of your shirt and tossing it to the other discarded articles of clothing on the floor. You tapped the top of his thigh lightly- urging him to raise himself a little. 

And as he did, you sank down into the bed further, his thighs on the sides of your hips leaving you directly in the splash zone. Choso looked down at you- already feeling apologetic before he even did anything. 

You parted your lips as the angle infiltrated your pupils- the sight was similar to missionary. But only this time, your legs were caged by his thighs, and his cock was hovering over your tummy. 

Choso was going to object to this position- not wanting to dirty you with his seed. But as your hand came into view, hovering right above your belly as your fingers formed an ‘o’ shape, awaiting his cock to push past the small opening. 

Choso gulped before placing his shaky hand to his pale base, guiding the red tip of his cock to press against your fists opening. His eyebrows knitting as he slowly rolled his hips into the tight ring, your clean hand landing on his thigh again as he slowly pushed his tip past the taut opening. Trying not to cum from the over-surrounding feeling of your hand around his cock.

Coating your hand in even more of his pre as his chest struggled to keep the breathing pace he just steadied. “It's okay Cho-” you muttered with an excited smile- “You can go as fast as you'd like.” you assured, watching his eyebrows knit as he dragged his cock from your fist slowly. 

He quickly thrusted his cock back in with a drawn out whimper. Taking your words to heart as he started sloppily thrusting in and out of your hand- the angle looked like he was fucking you- but his twitching thighs beside your hips made it seem like he was riding you. 

“There you go~” you smiled, feeling the harsh jolts of his thrusts shake the bed, Choso’s lungs unwillingly let out heaves littered with whines- his hips rolling into your hand as you watched him with prying eyes. Squeezing your fist when his cockhead would breach the rim of your fingers. 

He tried keeping his spine straight, he tried to not let his posture falter. But his knees couldn't keep holding him up- causing his hands to fall on either side of you. Face to face, chest to chest and keeping his sloppy thrusts in and out of your hand as you watched the faltering stripe on his nose start to drip slowly down his rosy cheeks.

Choso’s blushed chest was searing against yours, his sensitive nipples dragging up and down against your bare chest from his rigorous thrusts.

“You're so pretty-” you whispered against Choso’s lips, brushing against each other as he huffed in every breath you exhaled. His thrusts were borderline rabid- almost like he was trying to finish before you could pull your hand away again. 

Trailing your hand up the side of his hip, parting your lips as you watched the dark red tears fall from his stripe. Your hand held onto the side of his ass, gripping lightly as he fluttered his eyes closed and pressed his parted lips to yours.

The kiss he instigated was messy- mostly teeth and imprecise movements from his tongue as his moans vibrated against your lips. Your hand was caged between your tummy and his clenching abs that signaled he was close. 

He trailed a hand from the sheets up to the side of your face, pulling his lips from you as his striped nose bumped against yours. 

Your lips were brushing against his with every jolt from his thrusts, his half lidded eyes staring into yours. “S-so fucking good for me.” you stuttered through clenched teeth- words spoken into the warm air that hung between your lips and his.

Almost as though he was trying to suck your soul directly from your lungs- he gasped deeply, his hips stuttering their thrusts into your fist as he tried warning, ‘M’cumm-cumming- im cummi-’ into the air between your lips, forcing his half lidded eyes to stay open as his balls clenched in the lacy panties- 

With one guttural moan, his cock oozed out warm hard earned white streamers onto your torso. Fucking your clenched fist sloppily, Choso’s spasming hips struggled to bring himself down from the well won orgasm. 

You pressed a kiss onto his parted lips, slowly working your fist up and down his shaft in attrition as he muttered a curse. Your hand on the swell of his bottom wandering up to the little dimples of his back rubbing softly to soothe him as your palm threatened to overstimulate him. But the little hic’s from his blushed lips made that mean urge melt along with the violent trembles from his back.

His forehead pressed against yours as you assisted him in the comedown, breathing in the same air as his hips twitched in your grasp. His eyes threatened to blink shut from how your hand felt as you stroked him tenderly.

Slowly, Choso’s cock softened in your hand, pressing a sloppy opened mouth kiss to the corner of your lips. Raising himself ever so slightly onto his forearms, easing his head onto your chest as his mess spread on his own stomach, just fucked out enough to not even bother in getting a wet towel.

Basking in the afterglow as his eyes threatened to stay closed. Still breathing heavily as you placed your clean hand onto the back of his head, tangling in his black hair and scratching your nails lightly on his scalp as his eyelashes bat against your chest, small spasms rattling in his shoulders. 

Choso sighed softly, “They don't make lingerie for men, do they?” he asked with a breathy tone, your laugh rumbled against the side of his cheek from the question. You pressed a small kiss to the top of his head, “I'm sure they do- but you look prettier in pink.” you hummed as he gave a small grunt against your skin from the compliment. 

Knowing you were biased since that was the only kind of lingerie you've seen on him. But certainly not the last.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

this is what my dreams are made of. truly. strong men in pink frilly lingerie. nobody asked for it but alr plotting a prequel of reader showing him lingerie (them in it) where Choso ISNT a sub??? what?? me writing non sub Choso???? the world has flipped upside down

[andvys]

Pretty when you cry E.M.

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact! Smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, alcohol, age gap, reader is 22, Eddie is 41, cheating (reader gets cheated on by her asshole bf but it’s okay eddie makes her feel much better), slightly dark!Eddie, mentions of Eddie's scars from the upside down, mentions of bullying

Pairing: Older!Eddie Munson x younger!fem!reader

Summary: You came home from college to surprise your boyfriend but walk in on him with another girl. To escape your thoughts and the pain he had caused you, you go to the hideout for a distraction and it might turn into the best night of your life.

Word count: 5.8k+

stranger things masterlist

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You always feared that this day would come. 

The worst thing that could happen finally happened. There was a reason why you never wanted to fall in love, why you never wanted to give your heart to a person, knowing that they could crush it any time they wanted to but you trusted him. He was a good person, he was a sweet guy, a loving one. He treated you like a princess, he took care of you and spent every possible minute with you, his eyes never strayed away from you. He never entertained other girls, he never seemed interested in anyone but you. It was easy to trust him, to fall in love with him. You felt safe with him, even when you left for college, you knew that nothing bad would happen but now it did. 

You came home earlier than you were supposed to. It was finally Christmas break and you were excited to spend time with him, you were excited to surprise him but in the end, you were the one who got surprised. 

With a smile on your face, you walked up the stairs to his apartment, you held the keys in your hands that he gave you a few months back, you couldn’t wait for him to scoop you up into his arms and kiss you but you never got that. 

You didn’t walk in to him making dinner in the kitchen or to him sitting on the couch and watching one of his favorite horror movies, no, you walked in on him fucking another girl on the couch. She was on top of him, her lips attached to his, they were both moaning loudly, desperately and as though that wasn’t heartbreaking enough, you heard him whimpering her name.

Meg, Meg, Meg…

You were so caught off guard, shocked and hurt that at first, you didn’t realize who she was. Only as he said her name, you realized that she was the girl that used to bully you in school. The girl that used to make your life a living hell until he came along. 

“I love you, baby.” 

A wave of nausea rushed through you when you heard his words and her reciprocating them. 

You wanted to yell at them, to grab her by the hair and drag her off of him so you could slap the daylight out of him but instead, you left as soon as you came. 

The tears didn’t come until you were out in the cold again and you were able to catch a breath, you placed your hands on your knees and hunched over, feeling like you were going to throw up but nothing came out, instead a sob fell from your lips. 

Your chest was hurting and your stomach churned as your mind replayed the scene you have just witnessed. You squeezed your eyes shut and took deep breaths. 

You couldn’t believe it. 

You felt so betrayed and hurt. How long has this been going on? How long has been fucking her? How long has he been with her? Clearly, it wasn’t the first time. He loves her. God, he loves her. 

You never dealt with pain very well, usually, you would drown it in something. 

Tonight, you chose alcohol. 

You went to the bar, the only one in town. The one you were never really fond of. The Hideout.

Finn would always drag you here, usually just to get the drugs that the intimidating bartender would sell. The man always sent shivers down your spine, in a way you shouldn’t enjoy. While he always treated your boyfriend coldly, he was always more welcoming towards you. Always sweet and kind, maybe a little too kind. 

He scared you a little though, not because of the rumors that people spread around or because of the things he was accused of when he was younger. You never believed those things. You were scared of something that he held in his eyes whenever he looked at you. 

Normally, you would never come here without him but there is no him in your life anymore and you desperately need a drink and a good distraction. You walk in after wiping your tears away. The bar isn’t really crowded, it never is. Only a few men occupy some tables.

You sigh as you take your heavy coat off, placing it on the hanger before you make your way towards the counter. Sure enough, Eddie Munson is here. Unlike the last time you had seen him, his beard is now gone, his clean shaven face makes him look younger, though you always liked the scruff. His curls are laying softly on his shoulders, the sleeves of his flannel pulled up to his elbows, showing off his tattoos. 

You swallow nervously as you take a seat by the bar, he has yet to notice you, too busy preparing a drink for the man at the end of the bar. Licking your lips, you place your elbows on the counter and straighten your back as you watch him. 

You came here for something else, you know it, deep down, you know it. 

After placing the drink in front of the man, he turns around, finally, his eyes fall on you. He raises his brows, a smirk pulling at his lips as he throws the towel over his shoulder, making his way over to you. He looks around, probably looking for your boyfriend that he won’t find anywhere here tonight. 

“Well hello there,” he smirks as he comes closer to you, he eyes you slowly, “long time no see, sweetheart.” 

“Hi,” you breathe, forcing a smile onto your face. 

Eddie always made you feel nervous, you never managed to utter many words when he was around him. 

“You’re here by yourself?” 

“Yes,” you mumble, looking down to avoid eye contact, “can I get a drink?” 

“Sure, what can I get you, sweets?” 

You look up at him through your lashes, catching him staring at your lips. You blush when he doesn’t look away.

“Just– something strong, please.” 

A chuckle falls from his lips, he nods and steps away, “something strong, got it.” 

You watch him, staring at his back as he fixes your drink. He is taller than Finn, his shoulders are broader and generally, he is much more attractive, not that you would ever actually admit that to yourself.

“There you go,” he says, placing the drink in front of you. You look at the rings on his fingers, his rough hands, the thick veins. Your eyes move up to his wrist, to the scar on his forearm, the tattoos. 

“Thanks,” you whisper. Your fingers brush his when you reach for the drink, your breath hitches in your throat and you tense up a little. 

Eddie chuckles to himself as he pulls his hand away, he stares at your flustered face. He always enjoyed the little reactions he got from you whenever he touched you briefly, whether it was a hand on the small of your back, his fingers reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear or his hand touching yours, you would always get flustered under his gaze. Your eyes always flashed with desperation and guilt, you were intrigued by him, he could see it in your eyes, though the guilt of enjoying the way another man could make you feel with such little touches always led you to stepping closer to your boyfriend, reaching for his hand and clinging to him as though he could make you feel what he could. 

“You’re welcome,” he smirks, placing his hands on the counter, he watches you a little closer, noticing the red rimmed eyes, the glassiness in them. You cried before you came here. He wonders if it was your boyfriend’s fault. He hopes it was. 

“Where’s your little boyfriend?” 

You clench your jaw and furrow your brows, tensing up at the mention of him. 

Oh yeah, it was definitely his fault. 

You shrug, tearing your eyes away from him, you raise the glass to your lips and take a sip of the bitter liquor. 

“He’s fucking some other girl.” 

Eddie’s eyes widen at your words, clearly, he didn’t expect that. Who in their right mind would cheat on you? Eddie knows that he shouldn’t feel that way about someone who is much younger than him but he can’t help it, the first time he saw you, his heart stopped in his chest, you stole his breath away, you made him shiver. He was at the little flower shop, getting a bouquet for Robin’s birthday when he saw you. You were picking out flowers in your cute little sundress, sunglasses perched on your nose, a soft smile pulled at your lips as you picked out peonies. He was sure that he experienced love at first sight, he stared at you like a fool, unable to move, unable to speak. You didn’t see him though, you were too focused on all the pretty flowers. 

You saw him a few days later though, when you walked into the hideout with your boyfriend, that was one year ago. The disappointment he felt was huge when he saw you hand in hand with a man who most likely had it all, money, a fancy car and a bright future, and the right girl. 

The right girl that he fucked over. 

“Shit, sweetheart,” he sighs, not really knowing what else to say. Eddie was never good with words, he was better with actions. He reaches his hand out, placing it on top of yours. 

He would never do this to you. 

Your lips part and your breath gets caught in your throat, looking back at him, you see the sympathy in his eyes but also something else.

Tears well up in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, you blink them away and shrug, acting like it doesn’t hurt, acting like he didn’t tear your heart out and stomped all over it. 

“He is fucking the girl that used to bully me when I was still in school,” you mumble, “I saw them together, he told her that he loves her.” Your voice wavers a little, you swallow the lump in your throat. 

Anger wells up in his chest, yeah, Eddie doesn’t know you very well, your previous interactions were brief but he always felt a little protective of you, maybe a little too much. Always keeping his eyes out to see if anyone is making you uncomfortable when you were here. 

“What a fucking asshole,” he mumbles, shaking his head, “you want me to beat him up for you?” 

A small chuckle falls from your lips, your eyes crinkle with amusement as you meet his eyes. Eddie smiles at you, clutching your hand tighter. 

“No, I can do that, I just needed a moment to myself first.” 

He chuckles, “and that’s why you came here?” 

You nod. 

For the next half hour, you make small talk with him, he asks you about college and you ask him about the latest gossip in Hawkins, knowing that the drunken men always talk about the things their bored housewives tell them. 

All throughout your conversation, you feel yourself craving more of his attention.

His eyes skip down to your lips before they find yours again, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you here by yourself, you always looked so scared to be here.” 

A shiver runs down your spine, your skin tingles beneath his hand, though you still wrap your fingers around his thumb. You lick your lips and nod. 

You were never scared to be here. You were never scared of him. You were always scared of the way you felt around him. The way he made that fire burn in your lower belly. The way he made your heart stutter. The way he made your skin feel so hot and tingly. The way he made you squeeze your thighs together. The way he made you crave him. 

“Why’s that?” He asks as he looks at you with a smirk on his face and a knowing look in his eyes. He knows damn well why you were so afraid to be here but he still wants to hear you say it. 

There was always a tension between the two of you. You longed for him just as much as he always longed for you. The eye contact you held was always special. 

“I wasn’t scared to be here,” you admit with a shaky voice. 

“No?” He mumbles, tilting his head. 

Beneath the dim light, you see the very slight wrinkles on his face, the laugh lines that are barely visible, Eddie looks very good for his age, he is only 41 but some other men his age look much older. His skin is rough against yours and he is tall, much taller and much older, something about that, makes you crave him. 

Your relationship is clearly over and even if you still have to go through it, to realize everything fully, to deal with it, you finally allow yourself to feel what you have always felt deep down. 

Your attraction for the older man. 

You shake your head, “no,” you mumble, you take another sip of your drink, some of the liquor dripples down your chin, you put the glass down. Eddie watches the single droplet rolling down to your jaw, he reaches his hand out, cupping your cheek with his large hand, he catches the drop with his thumb. 

Your lips part in surprise, your breath hitches in your throat as you feel his touch, he stares at your lips, bringing his thumb up to your bottom lip, he swipes the liquid off and looks back into your eyes with a darkened look in them, suddenly, he wraps his lips around his thumb, licking the liquor off his finger. 

He smirks, satisfaction runs through him when he sees the look on your face.

“Then why did you look so scared?” He asks, continuing your conversation. 

“Huh?”

He chuckles, licking his lips. You are still staring at his lips with desire in your eyes. 

“Why did you look so scared whenever you were here?” He asks, looking over your shoulder to see some customers leave, he waves at them, giving them a small smile. That only leaves the man sitting in the booth by the window. Eddie redirects his eyes to you, “were you scared of me?” 

When you don’t answer right away, Eddie finally throws the towel on the counter and leaves his spot, he makes his way towards you and suddenly, you grow more nervous, more intrigued, more desperate. 

When you were in pain, dealing with personal struggles or looking for a distraction, you always opted for harmless things, books, movies, baking, writing but as you got older, you realized that, that, simply wasn’t enough. Sometimes you needed drinks, weed and parties but even that was never the right thing. There was an itch you needed to scratch and right now, you realized what you need. What the right thing is. It’s right in front of you. 

The right thing– the right one. 

It’s the one with the dark curls and the even darker eyes, the rough and intimidating looking man that is secretly a soft one, deep down. The one that hides behind this dark facade to make himself look more intimidating, to protect himself, to make himself look less vulnerable. He is what you need.

He sits down in front of you, close enough for you to smell his cologne, the whiskey he probably had before you walked in. You can feel his energy, you can feel the way he feels about you, the way he always felt about you. 

Maybe you came here for a reason, maybe you came here because you knew that the distraction you needed– you wanted wasn’t the drinks, you came here for something you always wanted. 

Him. 

You always wanted him. That’s why you were so afraid to be here, you were scared to lose control, scared of what you would do if he made a move on you– would you stop him? Probably not. 

You certainly won’t stop him now. 

“No, Eddie.” You whisper. Your drink is long forgotten, you are intoxicated by him. He sits close to you, towering over you with his tall frame, his knee is pushed between your thighs and his hand finds it’s way to your knee. 

His heart flutters at the way you say his name. 

You stare into each other’s eyes with a sense of longing. Neither of you say anything, he waits for you to continue but you stare at him, at his lips, at his thick neck, you stare at him for what feels like forever, not moving, not speaking. 

And he waits for you. He keeps his hand on your knee, squeezing it a little. 

When the last customer finally leaves, you decide to show him instead. You place your feet on the floor, standing up, you step towards him. His legs are spread, you step in between them and look up at him with a needy gaze. Instinctively, he places his hands on your waist as you cup his cheeks. 

You’ve been waiting to cross that line and he has been waiting for you to cross it. 

You take a shaky breath and before you decide against it, you slam your lips against his, kissing him, like you always wanted to. 

He smirks and pulls you tightly against him as he kisses you back right away. His hands leave your waist, instead he wraps his arms around your shoulders and hugs you tightly as he deepens the kiss with a loud moan. 

God, you wish you had done that much earlier. 

Your pain, your broken heart is long forgotten now that you finally feel what it’s like to be kissed by a man. 

His lips are rough against yours, he kisses you like no one ever kissed you before. Rough, passionate, delicate. He makes your stomach burn with need. Wetness pools in your panties. 

His tongue meets yours and the kiss gets deeper and deeper, rougher and more desperate. He gets up and picks you up with ease, without breaking the kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist and hold onto his neck as you smile into the kiss. Eddie carries you over to one of the tables, placing you on top of it. You pull him flush against you. 

He groans as he feels you grinding against him. 

“Baby… fuck, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, “hold on,” he chuckles as he presses another kiss to your lips, “gotta– fuck.. I have to lock the door, hold on.” He pats your cheek after giving you another kiss before he pulls away from you, rushing around the counter to get the kiss, he keeps his eyes on you. 

You smirk at him, spreading your legs wider, you push your dress up, sliding it further up your thighs. 

“Wait for me,” he grunts as he rushes towards the door, locking it up quickly and turning the main lights off, leaving the dim lights from the bar on. 

When he is back in front of you, you grab his hand and pull him back to you, “do you want to fuck me, Eddie?” 

His eyes darken, blood rushes to his dick. 

“You have no idea how bad I want you, sweetheart,” he murmurs as he cups your cheek, “but are you sure that you want it?” He asks, sweetly. “I don’t want you to regret anything–” 

“Shut up and fuck me, old man.” 

He looks impressed, words caught in his throat and a smirk tugging at his lips. 

Neither of you ever expected this to happen, especially not like this. But this is how you end up under him that night. He kisses you roughly, leaving your lips puffy by the time he makes his way down to your neck, he sucks on your skin, leaving a trail of hickeys down to your shoulder after pushing the sleeves of your dress down your arm. 

“You’re such a pretty little thing, y/n,” he murmurs against your skin, “first time I saw you, I thought you were an angel.” 

You gasp, eyes closing when he pushes his free hand under your dress, he toys with your thin tights before he rips them apart, earning another gasp from you, “‘m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll buy you new ones, I promise,” he says as he finally touches you. 

You place your hand on his shoulder and the other on the table behind you as you tilt your head to give him more access to your neck. 

“Eddie,” you whimper. 

His lips feel so soft yet so rough against your skin, his other hand cups your pussy, feeling how wet you are for him makes him groan in pleasure. 

“I’m not gonna lie, when you walked in with that prick, I was disappointed,” he admits as he places his fingertips against your clit, rubbing you over your panties, “shit, I wanted you from the first moment I saw you, baby.” 

You gasp, lips parting at both his words and his touch. You buck your hips up, trying to grind yourself against his hand. 

“Y-You did?” You whimper as you push your hand into his hair, gripping his curls. 

“Yes, fuck yes,” he grunts, “pretty thing like you deserves a real man.” 

He pulls away from your neck, staring at it for a moment, with a sly smirk, he admires the bites and hickeys he left for him to see. Then his eyes meet yours and his heart softens. 

You look vulnerable but also needy. 

“Show me how real men fuck,” you whisper, licking your lips. 

“Gladly baby,” he smirks, pecking your lips one more time before he pushes you down. You lay your back flat against the table, swallowing nervously as you wait for him to touch you. Eddie bunches your dress up at your waist and pushes your tights down your legs. His eyes flash with hunger when he sees the black lacy thong you’re wearing, he swallows, laying his large hand on your lower stomach, he looks into your eyes, “you wore that for him, huh?” He asks as his fingers reach for the band, “you wanted to surprise him?” He asks with a hint of jealousy in his voice. 

You don’t want to talk about him, you don’t even want to think about him, not when you finally have what you want.

“It’s all for you now.” 

“Damn right, baby.” 

He rips them off of you, chuckling darkly at your little squeal, he brings the panties up to his face, sniffing them, he closes his eyes and moans. 

“Eddie!” You gasp as your face flushes with embarrassment. 

He only chuckles at your reaction, pushing the panties in his back pocket, he grabs your soft legs and throws them over his shoulders as he leans down. 

Suddenly, you push yourself up on your elbows and look up at him in surprise, “w-what are you–” Before you can even finish your sentence, Eddie licks a stripe up your wet pussy, moaning filthily at your taste. 

You gasp, your eyes roll back and you instantly reach for his hair, grabbing it roughly as you feel his tongue on your clit, “o-oh my god!” 

He smirks against you, pushing his tongue against you as he eases a finger inside of you. 

“H-Holy fuck– Eddie! W-What–” 

Your stupid boyfriend never ate you out before, he can tell by your reaction, by the gasps and the moans and the confused look on your face that quickly fades away when he begins to fuck you with his long fingers. 

“E-Eddie.. Shit, that feels so good,” you whimper, “please don’t stop, please!” You beg. 

Pride rushes through him, he gets to make you feel good, he gets to touch you, he gets to be the first– and last, who eats you out, who tastes you on his tongue, who makes you moan, who makes you feel good. 

Eddie feels his cock throbbing in his pants, his heart beating fastly. Too many nights he has dreamed of this. 

He moans so loudly against you, sending vibrations through you. 

You watch him as he eats you out, as he replaces his fingers with his tongue and fucks you with it, all while he looks into your eyes. No one had ever done this to you. 

“You taste so fucking good, baby,” he grunts against you, “gonna take you home and make you sit on my face later.” 

Your stomach flutters, your pussy clenches around his tongue and you whimper at both his words and the feeling of his tongue inside of you. 

“E-Eddie!” 

Your stomach is burning, tears are pricking at your eyes as he sticks his fingers back inside of you all while his tongue is still buried deep inside of your wet cunt. 

“Y-You are.. you’re so good, E-Eddie.” 

He groans against you, fucking you deeply with his fingers. You cum without a warning, your orgasm crashes over you so suddenly, you are grabbing at his hair and squeezing your eyes shut, holding your breath as you cum on his tongue and around his fingers.

He laps up all your juices, enjoying the way you whimper and squeal when he licks around your sensitive clit, you jolt up and grab his hair tighter, trying to push him away. He chuckles, the look on his face shows you that he is smug about making you cum, knowing damn well that your boyfriend never got to do it. 

“Taste yourself,” he says, holding his fingers out for you, “wrap your pretty lips around my fingers, princess.” 

You push yourself up and do it, you part your lips for him and he wastes no second to stick them into your mouth. You wrap your lips around his sticky fingers and swirl your tongue around them, putting on a show for the older man, you moan and take them in a little deeper. You know what he thinks about. 

He groans and stares at you in awe as he thinks about the way you would look on your knees, how pretty you would look with your lips wrapped around his cock, how your eyes would tear up and how you’d moan. 

“Mhmm.” 

“Fuck,” he grunts. 

You release his fingers with a pop! “fuck me, please..” You whine. 

He puts your legs back on the table and pushes himself back up, he grabs your waist and smashes his lips against yours, already addicted to the way your lips feel against his. He pushes the rest of your sleeves down, you help him, taking it off and releasing your breasts as you push the dress down to your stomach. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as he cups your boobs, “pretty fucking tits,” he moans as he leans down to kiss them, rolling your nipples with his fingers. 

You look so beautiful, sexy, unreal.

“Ah! Eddie.. Please, stop teasing, I want your cock inside of me,” you whine. 

His dick is so hard, he feels as though his jeans are about to burst but he can’t help but tease you a little further as he continues to play with your nipples, “how long have you been thinking about this?” He asks. 

“I-I don’t know,” you whisper, truthfully. Your mind always took you back to him but you always refused to let those thoughts in. You reach out to him, trying to take his flannel off, he lets you. He drops the red material to the ground but when you reach for the hem of his shirt, he grips your hands and stops you. His eyes flash with vulnerability, “not my shirt, sweetheart.” 

You frown as you stare at him, “w-why not?” 

He blinks, touching your hands gently, “I got some pretty nasty scars,” he admits. 

Oh, Eddie. 

“I-I don’t mind,” you whisper, “but you don’t have to show me.”

He smiles at you, pinching your chin, he brings you closer and kisses your lips, “someday, okay?” He says like he already knows that this is no one time thing.

“Okay,” you whisper. 

You unbuckle his belt and help him push his jeans and boxers down, eyeing him hungrily. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach. Your eyes widen and you can’t even stop the gasp from escaping. Eddie is big. Bigger than your cheating boyfriend. His hair is trimmed, you catch a glimpse of his pale skin on his lower stomach, a sliver of a scar peeking out from beneath his shirt, it makes your heart stop but you tear your eyes away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. 

“Y-You’re so big.” 

Eddie smirks and cups your cheeks, “it’s okay, baby. I know you can take it.” 

You clench around nothing, you feel yourself getting wetter at his words, at his touch, at the look in his eyes. 

“You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” 

“Mhmm,” you nod hastily. 

He smirks, “that’s right, you’re never going back to that prick, I’ll make sure of that.” 

You whine and pull him closer, looking down desperately as he finally grabs his dick, sliding it through your dripping folds. 

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he grunts as watches the way your pussy flutters, he slides it into you slowly, raising his head to look at your face, he keeps one hand on your cheek. The look in your eyes is needy, your face scrunches up in pain as he inches into you. He is concerned but he would be lying if he said that he doesn’t enjoy the way you are squirming beneath him. 

“F-Fuck,” you whimper in pain as he stretches you open. “Do you want me to stop?” He asks, eyeing you in concern. 

You shake your head, “no! No… please don’t stop,” you whisper as you dig your heels into his ass and take him even deeper, making him moan in pleasure, “j-just fuck me, please, fuck me!” 

Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice, he lets you adjust for a moment before he begins to roll his hips. He pulls out and slides back in, easing you into it and when you are finally used to his size and his length, he puts one hand on your hip and the other on your boob as he starts thrusting harsher. His rings dig into your skin but you don’t mind, you like knowing that he will leave marks. 

He moans louder and louder, just like you. You both get lost in the feeling, loving the way you feel with each other. 

“God, your pussy feels like heaving, y/n,” he moans as he fucks you deeper. 

“Y-You too, you feel so good.” 

“Yeah?” He breathes, smirking darkly, “you like the way I stretch you open, huh?” 

“Yes!” You squeal, “I love it!” 

He moans as he feels you clenching around him, the movement causes him to fuck you rougher and deeper. 

“You needed a real man to fuck you, huh?” 

Tears well up in your eyes, you hold him tighter against you and bite your lip as you nod at his words. 

“Stupid boy didn’t know how to treat you, how to fuck you properly,” he grunts as he pulls you flush against him so he can kiss you, “I can fuck you better, baby.” 

He feels so good inside of you, you feel every vein as he pounds your pussy roughly. His hair tickles your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you. You never let your boyfriend fuck you without a condom, yet you let him and you would let him, again and again.

“H-Harder,” you whimper. 

“Harder?” He chuckles against your lips, “you’re insatiable, little thing.” 

He pushes you down, slamming you back against the hard surface, he grabs your legs and places them on his shoulders, looking down at you with a wicked smile as he starts to fuck you from a new angle, one that allows you to feel him even deeper. 

Your eyes widen for a moment, a loud squeal leaving your lips as you feel more of him. You grab the edge of the table tightly, tears blur your vision but you still look at up at him, at the older man who fucks you like you always craved to be fucked. 

Pleasure takes over his body and awe flashes in his eyes as he stares at you, as he watches his cock pounding into your squelching cunt.

He holds your legs tightly against his chest, he kisses your calves and watches the way your boobs bounce, the way you breathe heavily and grip the table as you moan and cry for him. 

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. 

He hears your moans, your sweet and sultry voice. It makes his dick throb and his heart soar. 

“You look so pretty when you cry.” 

Your walls flutter around him, your moans get higher, your eyes threaten to flutter shut but you don’t want to look away from him. He looks so pretty. 

He starts thrusting slower but harder and deeper. 

Your moans turn into gasps while his turn into needy grunts. 

“Feel so fucking good around my cock, so fucking perfect,” he moans, “never letting you go again, gonna make you mine.” 

“P-Please…”

“You want that huh?” He smirks, “you want to be mine?”

“S-So bad!” 

He knows that your words come from desperation, you are so lost in the feeling, you would tell him anything right now but it still makes his heart flutter. 

“Mine, you’re fucking mine now, sweetheart.” 

The dark look in his eyes should scare you but it doesn’t, if anything, it brings you closer to the edge, it makes your cunt flutter around him, it makes you crave him even more. Now that you have finally let him in, you will let him do anything. 

“Gonna fill you up with my cum, breed your little pussy and make you mine forever,” he grunts as his moans get louder. 

He fucks you so roughly, he steals your breath away, you don’t even know what you’re gasping for at this point but when he places his fingers on your clit and rubs it fastly, you cum hard, gushing around his thick cock as he gives a few more thrusts before he cums too, releasing himself inside of you and painting your walls white with his thick cum. 

He places your legs back down carefully, not pulling out just yet as he leans down for a kiss. 

You whimper and shake, the feeling of his cum inside of you, of his cock still in your pussy sending waves of pleasure through your body. 

He claimed you, in so many ways tonight. 

He marked you up, he kissed you in a way that made you addicted to him, he came inside of you. 

His lips move smoothly and slowly against yours, he touches you gently, sighing softly as he kisses you sweeter than he did before. 

“You’re mine now,” he whispers, “forever.” 

His words are sweet but there is also something so dark about them and you might love it a little too much. 

“I’ll take care of you now, okay?” 

“Okay, Eddie.” 

[stringsbasement]

Your art of peri and your Villain AU of him? perfection. I read your twt thread and I'm greedy for more, im so serious like If there was a 100k word fanfic of your au I would read it in a heartbeat!! THATS how much im obsessed with the concept

thank you so much! i didn't expect there to be so much interest in my thoughtless doodles and rambles. luckily, i already have a draft for a rant i formulated about this version of peri's possible motivations, and now i have an excuse to share it!!

also, as a bonus, have this silly doodle :)

[his hairstyle is his attempt to separate himself from his parents, but no matter what he does with it, he can never get it to sit without that stray tuft and curl at the very end.

also, his bowtie is in reference to chloe and my initial art of irep before his design was revealed. the latter almost makes it seem like they "swapped roles."]

the thing is, it's hard to imagine peri as someone purposefully wanting to harm others for his own pleasure. for a "bad" au of peri to occur, he'd have to take after timmy, and seek chaos the same way he did

now, timmy is a good person at heart. his fairies love him, and he loved them in turn. that's undeniable. however, timmy was so stressful he affected cosmo and wandas marriage, and they had to retire right after him to rekindle their love and stop being so awful towards each other. timmy was simultaneously one of the best and worst things to ever happen to them

so it's not that much of a stretch to think he'd affected peri during his development, to the point he unknowingly influenced peri's core beliefs, which he'll carry over later in life

timmy used his fairies to escape from his regular life. he was incredibly reckless, and shirked responsibilities till the consequences got him back tenfold. a dangerous, but fulfilling way of living. he might've mellowed out in the later years, but considering he chose to keep vicky around to purposefully make himself miserable and keep his fairies instead of facing reality, maturity wouldn't be a straight or easy path

peri, adopting this way of thinking, believes the best way to live life is taking risks. ignoring your present problems in favor of escapism. he would insist this upon his godchild, and be blind to the complex nuance of dev's situation

dev's parental neglect differs from timmy's, and thus requires different treatment. but peri doesn't realize that, and dev is a child who cannot comprehend how awful he really has it, let alone communicate it in a way that isn't just lashing out and throwing tantrums

for classic peri, this is an annoyance. for this peri though? he'll enable it, because he thinks dev needs to get it out of his system. like timmy. which is in some way correct, but it's a flawed, only temporary solution

and it's in this way a path of deeper exploration opens up about characters similar to cookie, highlighting how flawed the godparent system can be when a child is assigned a godparent who cannot fulfill what they truly need

starting a ghost apocalypse is nothing compared to the wishes that has been granted before. and, honestly, dev taking viozalia's staff to use against her is a clever move. this peri wouldn't be downtrodden like he was in the original scene, but impressed. he would say as such, and dev, being the emotionally starved 10 year old he is, will soak those words up like a dry sponge

(slightly off topic: i like to think a little quirk this peri would have is, instead of looking to da book of rules for guidance, (cosmo, wanda, and his classic self do this multiple times in the show when in unique situations,) he'd be searching for anything that states what can't he do. "what to do when your god kid tries to start a ghost apocalypse... nothing? sweet!")

this would naturally allow him and dev to bond a little more. even if it's just shit talking other people and how they're totally better than everyone else

it doesn't mean they get along splendidly. dev is still pissed that he can't make the wishes he wants, and peri overcompensates by allowing him to throw himself into situations that just narrowly avoids sanction. because, oh yeah, peri would not appreciate being forced to follow the rules which includes wiping the godchild's memories after the godparent's term has passed

(if anything, he'll find a loophole out of it. he learned from the best, after all)

this is also where peri's spoiled nature would shine through. being offered everything just because he was a baby would make anyone entitled

he and dev are too similar for their own good. they have have access to anything they could ask for, but are unable to get love from one person they want it from. it's almost pitiful

to keep those thoughts out of dev's (and his own) mind, peri resorts to pushing dev out of his comfort zone, which would ordinarily be a good thing, only, he goes way too far to the point of regression

you know, it really doesn't help that dev looks a lot like timmy. i mean, look at them...

that's timmy with slicked back hair and a white jacket. c'mon

but even with all of this, peri doesn't really become a villain. he's antagonistic at most, with his strained relationship with his parents and his help in making things harder for hazel. luckily, the latest episode has given me a few ideas

when peri inevitably comes to care for dev, he'll obviously has to do something about his constant unhappiness. dev has a point in complaining about the fact hazel has two godparents and he only has one, even when his life is "worse" (another unhealthy way of thinking,)

hmmmm. so how can dev have two fairy godparents, and how can peri break da rules without putting himself at risk?

who other than a mirror of peri's own self?

a shift inevitably took place, one where peri became more intense and irep more soft. it's so subtle it goes unnoticed until thousands of years have passed

irep has become timid, soft, and well-meaning. if peri either quits his position or gives way for another slot and puts dev under a sort of split-custody, dev will be able to use anti-fairy magic, which can completely bypass any of the rules regular fairy magic is withholden to

irep will get what he wants as well. in this post, i answered an ask in which i speculate that irep genuinely does want a godchild, and the love and appreciation that comes with it. that much would stay the same for this au

and, well, unlike irep, peri has always been willing to share

this would make way for a bunch of whacky hijinks, potential plots, and new threats. consequences piling up until they become too huge to ignore. not to mention the full implications of a fairy and anti-fairy switching roles. of course, this is just a fun idea i came up with on the spot, and i haven't thought it out too much, so pointing out any plot holes that would come from this is appreciated!

i have more to say, mainly about peri and his parents' initial separation, as well as the parallels that can be found with this version of peri and hazel, but i feel it would be best to end it here :)

thank you for making me write all of this!

[haikyu-mp4]

Friend of a friend

word count; 2535 – gn!reader, suggestive at the end, manga spoilers

Back in high school, you went to Inarizaki and chose to be a manager for the volleyball club in your second and third years. It was incredibly fun and you might have cried when they won nationals in their last spring tournament before your class graduated.

Even after graduating and going your different ways, you stayed friends with Suna and the twins, as well as some of the other players. Unfortunately, you spoke much less frequently with the others.

Being friends with those three means gossip sessions, which is why you were lying on your bed with your computer open on a video call with the guys, updating each other on the latest gossip.

“How’s the new team, Rin?” Osamu asked, making Atsumu squint with a cocky smirk as he probably immediately started comparing it to his team. Suna shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s cool. That Komori guy is nice, I never really talked to him in high school,” he said, mentioning him because Atsumu had told you guys all about the players in the All-Japan group back in your second year. And of course, everyone knew about the best high school libero of the monster generation. You let out the tiniest gasp, covering your mouth when the twins started cackling while Suna looked confused. “What?”

“We never told you?” Osamu asked Suna in particular while you were making wild gestures for him to shut up. “Y/n has had the biggest crush on Komori since our second year at Inarizaki.”

Oh, the horror. Suna’s face lit up in a way it rarely did, suddenly armed with precious information to be used against you. “Are you serious?”

“It was a high school crush, get over it!” you yelled as if the blush on your cheeks was not giving you away.

“You were practically drooling.” Atsumu accused you and if you could punch him through the screen, you would.

“Miya, I swear to god-” but Atsumu knew you couldn’t reach him, so he smirked and kept that big mouth talking.

“When we were at nationals that year, the two of us went off to go watch Itachiyama.” he started, but you interrupted him.

“Because Tsumu wanted to stare at Sakusa,” you mumbled, already giving up on making him withhold any information.

“I was scoping out the competition! Anyways, one look at Komori was all it took before I was punched way too hard in my shoulder and forced to give up any information I had,” he explained, making it as dramatic as he could for Atsumu-purposes and clutching his upper arm as if he could still feel it.

“Reeeally?” Suna cooed. “From what I can tell, he’s single.”

Osamu had his mic off as he was in the kitchen making food, leaving you to the two worst ones. “This is why ‘Samu is my favourite,” you mumbled. He gave the camera a thumbs up and a wink, still leaving you to your own defences.

“Is he the one getting you a date with your lifelong crush?” Suna asked rhetorically, phone whipped out in the corner of his screen making your face go pale.

“No, but neither are you!” you yelled, hoping it was somewhat threatening, but it sounded more desperate. “And who said lifelong? I hate you.”

“Fine, suit yourself.” he finally said, but the way he was side-eyeing the screen while Atsumu smirked told you this was not over yet.

Fortunately, weeks went by without you hearing anything else about any supposed date. Komori did come up in conversation now and then, which you appreciated when it wasn’t just so they could tease you. You could feel the crush blossoming again every time Suna told you about their adventures in volleyball and it felt somewhat nostalgic.

Should you give in and ask Suna for his number?

This is what you were wondering as you walked through the city, barely dodging bikes that tried to run over you while you daydreamed. The better option is probably giving in, but you preferred admiring him from far (far) away rather than facing the possible rejection. You pushed the door to the cafe where you’re meeting Suna, before huffing as you realised it said pull. Good start to the day for sure. When you finally got inside, you were muttering under your breath as your friend’s laughter rang in your ears.

“Shut up!” you barked at him before sitting down. He already ordered two hot chocolates when you said you were on your way.

“What’s got you so scatterbrained?” he asked, leaning his arms on the table.

You glared at him over your hands, which you were leaning on. “How to secretly perform a lobotomy on my enemy while he’s sleeping,” you answered, but your ears still burned red knowing what was actually on your mind.

“So you weren’t thinking about a certain teammate of mine?” Suna asked, wiggling his eyebrows. However, he looked genuinely surprised when you just leaned back down on your hands, not denying it. “Wait, you were?”

“Why am I friends with you?” you whine, finally sitting up to sip your hot chocolate in hopes that it would fix all your problems.

Suna smirked, hearing the bell ring over the door of the cafe. “I can think of a few reasons,” he said quickly before lifting his hand in greeting, making you whip your head in the direction of the entrance. To your horror, there stood none other than Komori Motoya. “Motoya!”

The libero smiled kindly, making your heart skip a beat as he walked over to you two. “Sunarin! What’s up?” he asked.

“Just catching up with this lovely person,” he said, throwing you a devilish grin. Komori turned to you, bowing lightly to greet you as well.

“Right, Suna told me about you. Komori Motoya.”

“Hi,” you said, feeling shy as you told him your name as well. As if you didn’t already know his name. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to think too much about how you said finally. “And you.” With that, Komori smiled and excused himself to order his coffee. This gave you some time to soundlessly curse at Suna, until you had to plaster a smile back on your face when he came back over, sitting down for a moment while waiting for his name to be called. “You were friends from high school, right?”

“Yes.” You glanced at Suna for help, words stuck in your throat. “I was a manager for the volleyball team.”

Komori made a sound of realisation like he finally put two and two together. “I thought I knew your face from somewhere!” he said, memories flooding back of the game in their last year of high school where they faced off against Inarizaki. “The pretty manager who got scolded by the referee for being too loud.”

You laughed at the memory, looking at Suna to see if he remembered as well and somehow managing to overlook that he called you pretty. “That’s the one,” Suna said, confirming that he did.

“You beat us in the semifinal,” Komori added. “Rin said you saw another one of our games at nationals once.”

“Not just once,” you chuckled before realising what you said and shutting up immediately. Both of the boys chuckled as well, one to ease your embarrassment and one to embarrass you more.

“Komori!” the barista yelled, relieving you at the perfect time. The man stood up and got his drink before coming back over but not sitting down. “I’ve got to go, but let’s meet again sometime, yeah?” he asked, directing the last half at you more than his teammate.

“Yeah,” you agreed, putting as much effort as you could into giving him your best smile. He bowed quickly before turning on his heel and leaving with a final goodbye.

Your eyes went straight to your friend, squinting. The second the cafe door closed, he burst out laughing, trying to not be loud and disturb others. “Not just once!” he mocked, making you bury your face in your hands. “You’re so hopeless at this.”

Let’s just say Suna told the twins how that went over your next video call, so now you’re watching them laugh at you as well, begging any existing god for it to stop and to just bury you already. After a few minutes, the laughing and teasing cooled off. “Well, now it’s my turn to step in,” Atsumu announced, and once again they got to watch the colour drain from your face.

“Step in? There will be no stepping in.” you stuttered.

“This Friday, I’m hosting a private party,” he said like a rich man from some movie. “And let’s just say you’ll enjoy the guest list, y/n.”

You bury your face into your mattress, pressing a pillow over your head. “Please, anyone. End my misery!”

But who are you to deny a good party? It’s just for fun, nothing interesting.

Nothing interesting at all- the thought drifted off into nothing as you watched Sakusa and Komori walk through the door. You chuckled to yourself at how Sakusa seemed to already turn around and try to escape when he saw there were more people there. From the corner of the room, where you previously chatted with Atsumu before he had to answer the door, you watched them. While calmly sipping your drink and leaning against the wall, you observed how sweet Komori acted, turning Sakusa back around and urging him to stay.

However, you should never let your guard down when you’re friends with a Miya. Next thing you knew, all the previously mentioned guys were looking where Atsumu pointed; right at you. In a fight or flight moment, your eyes widened and you escaped into the crowd before Komori could even see you properly. What a classy reaction!

The party went on and you danced with a couple of people you knew from here and there. It was a decent party, you had to admit Miya was good at hosting. Lucky you also crossed paths with a smirking Suna at the edge of the living room turned dance floor. “You truly are the image of grace,” he teased, and you glared in betrayal.

“Thank you,” you answered instead of arguing, moving along with the beat. Suna still seemed smug, and you felt a sense of deja vu when he lifted his hand and yelled ‘Motoya!’ over the loud music. “Have I told you that you’re the worst?” you asked in your sweetest voice before using some liquid courage to turn around to your undeniable crush with a drawn-out ‘heeey’.

“Hey, I was hoping I’d find you,” he responded, a hand caressing your upper arm because some people were pushing. “Where did Suna go?” he asked, glancing up once or twice before settling his gaze on you.

“I asked him to call on you, actually,” you lied, choosing fight instead of flight for once. After all, you had downed a cup or two of mixed alcohol since earlier.

“Really?” Komori smiled and you naturally copied it, albeit a bit more dazed. “Why?” he started moving with you to the music, his hand stroking down your arm and finding its place on your waist.

You didn’t answer him with anything more than a flirty smile and sheepish shrug, stepping closer to him and getting lost in the music while you dared to. If Suna was so insistent on him perceiving you, you didn’t want to seem like some loser with a childish crush.

Eventually, the song changed and you looked down into your now empty cup with a small pout. You left it on the closest surface and turned to Komori. “Should we go somewhere quieter?” you asked, pointing towards the stairs. When he agreed, you loosely grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs, looking around for a moment before realising the only good options were the bedroom or the balcony. “Bedroom or balcony?” you asked without thinking much about what it might seem like.

Did he look nervous? Komori was fiddling with his empty plastic cup and didn’t meet your eyes, biting his lip as he looked at the door to the bedroom. “Don’t you think it would be occupied?”

You shrugged and walked over to the door, pulling on the handle and swinging the door open only to find an empty albeit a bit messy room. Turning back to him, you knew your cheeks were burning. It’s just from the alcohol… “Coast is clear.” Komori followed you inside before closing the door behind you, hesitating for a moment before deciding not to lock it. What if that scared you off? What if he misunderstood? The two of you ended up facing each other in the middle of the floor, both thinking too much to make the first move. You weren’t sure if you pulled him upstairs for anything specific, you honestly just wanted to talk to him more now that you had the chance. And guts.

Komori accidentally dropped the empty cup he had been fiddling with and winced, seemingly spurring into action from that little movement alone. “You’re gorgeous.”

You looked at him wide eyed before the words just fell out of your mouth. “I have a huge crush on you.”

A breathy chuckle left his lips and it brushed over your face because he was so close, yet he was seemingly moving even closer by the second. “Sunarin told me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut for a second, cursing your best friend in your mind until you feel Komori’s hands land on your hips more confidently. “I hate him,” you informed him in a whisper. The little space between you felt like it wouldn’t fit anything louder.

“I don’t,” he answered with a small grin before he kissed you, making your arms automatically loop around his neck to pull him closer. You kissed him back with the lust of every wandering thought you had of him the last few years, and he kissed you back with the passion of someone who wasn’t used to being the crush with a cousin like Kiyoomi. When the back of your legs hit the bed, you lay back and pulled him with you, feeling one of his hands slide under your shirt, which you had no intention of stopping.

Suna wasn’t sure if he was happy or not with the sounds coming from Atsumu’s bedroom when he went looking for you. He was glad his plan worked out but he did not need the mental image that came with you moaning his teammate’s name. Is it possible to rinse your brain? Also, Atsumu would act so mad about you doing whatever in his bed before you ‘snuck’ out of the party hand in hand with Komori.

And Osamu would hear all about it in the morning when you came to get food wearing an EJP Raijin sweatshirt. He’d tell you having you there on your derailed walk of shame was bad for business, but still let you sit there and babble about how great Komori was, both in bed and after.

At least you were happy, and that made them happy too.

masterlist

[jezabelle9299]

Sick day S.R x fem!Reader

Overture:Reader’s sick on paperwork day, so Spencer goes to check on her.

Warnings: descriptions of a cold/ flu, taking liquid medicine without measuring it, terrible fire safety, some parts are a teensy bit suggestive because I can’t resist. (It’s all inner monologue stuff, no one actually does anything, but R is in a short nightgown that is very distracting for Spencer), also she has a cat named Buttons

You felt like death warmed over. It was paperwork day at the office and you were mostly caught up, so you decided to just send Hotch a quick text letting him know you couldn’t come in before moving sluggishly around your apartment. By the time you made it back to your bed you had a small box of tissues, the longest movie you owned in the dvd player, and a bottle of Nyquil with a straw in it. You didn’t have the energy to measure. You lit a candle to try and keep the stale feeling of sickness from completely overtaking your room. You felt gross and needed to change before the cold medicine totally knocked you out, so you chose a short nightgown in an attempt to keep you from sweating as much as you were in the fluffy pajama set you woke up in.

Every couple hours you drifted awake, enough to get a small sip of water, and pull your hair up out of your face. You didn’t even notice the knock on your apartment door, same as you hadn’t noticed the calls from your concerned coworkers. They knew you lived alone and weren’t feeling well, so when you didn’t answer their calls they sent Spencer. He finished his paperwork already, so he left before everyone else. When you didn’t answer your door he thought of every worst case scenario, before getting it together and letting himself in with the key you gave him. He’d never used it, but everyone on the team had a copy for safety.

What you did manage to notice through your delirium was a knock on your bedroom door. It didn’t really surprise you, Penelope came over a lot and when she did, she often let herself in. You grumbled something that was supposed to sound like “come in” but was more like a vague groan. You only noticed it wasn’t Penelope from the cautious way he opened the door, and his small “hey” and accompanying wave. You opened your eyes the rest of the way, and sat up in bed, wincing from the small movement. Spencer walked into your room, as you rubbed your eyes.

“Hey, what’s up? Is there a problem at work?” You started to gently move the covers, in a terrible attempt to get out of bed and back on the job. Spencer quickly covered you back up, really trying not to notice your attire. He was there to check on you, not stare. You may be the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, but you weren’t doing this for him. He knew that. He did not know that the possibility of him seeing you in this version of dolled-up (Sans fever and red nose) had crossed your mind, several times in fact. It was probably for the best that he covered you back up though, because there was no way you were successfully making it out of that bed.

“No, no case. Just checking on you, you weren’t answering your phone.” it was said without accusation or inconvenience, and you once again realized how sweet Spencer is. As if you needed a reminder. You still apologized, you didn’t want him or anyone on the team to worry.

“Sorry, my phone’s around here somewhere, I guess I just didn’t hear it.”

“Oh no, it’s ok. We just wanted to make sure you were ok, plus I finished my paperwork early.” He looked away from you for half a second, and the still lit candle caught his attention.

“I’ll spare you the fire safety statistics for now because you’re sick. But this is going out when I leave, because you really shouldn’t sleep with it lit.”

“For the record I’d love to listen to you talk about– well, anything really. And ambiance over safety is something I’ll choose any day.” He looked like he was going to have a stroke. You assumed it was the blatant disregard for fire safety, which was part of it. But it was mostly his heart jumping at you wanting to listen to him. You were always sweet to him, but it was something he never got used to, never got tired of.

“I’ll tell you later, it’ll be long and unconversational.” You just gave him the best smile you could manage, you were excited, but also in ridiculous pain.

“Also how long has that song been playing, and how have you not gone insane yet?”He was referring to the soundtrack on the dvd menu of your movie. It bothered you a few hours ago, but by now you’d chosen to just tune it out. The TV didn’t have a remote and you weren’t annoyed enough to get up to deal with it.

“A few hours, and that time has come and gone. The TV doesn’t have a remote, and it’s not bad enough to deal with yet.” He reached over and turned it off for you, making it look so easy. As you were about to respond you were cut off by an incredibly painful coughing fit, which sent your cat running from his spot under the covers, back to the floor. Spencer jumped back, almost falling over at the sight.

“You have a cat?!” He was clutching his chest like he was having a heart attack, but you just giggled at the ball of fur cautiously approaching him before falling at his feet. It was a gross, congested laugh but Spencer still thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

“I do, his name’s Buttons. Seems like he likes you.” Spencer got down on one knee, to give Buttons a small bit of his attention before turning it back to you and standing up.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you have a fever? Did you eat? I know you need more electrolytes, I could get you a bottle of water.” You loved listening to him talk, but you were still in a dense fog. By the time he finished you couldn’t remember what he started with. You knew you wanted more medicine, but you had no idea what time it was, and if you could take more.

“What time is it?” Spencer quickly looked down at his watch and replied “3:48” and you let out a huge sigh of relief, it had been almost 6 hours, so you could take more.

Oh thank god. Could you hand me that bottle of cold medicine?” When you pointed to your nightstand, and among the dvds and books he saw the bottle, no cap, no measuring cup to indicate dosage, and a pink bendy straw sticking out of it like it was soda.

“Have you been drinking this straight from the bottle?” You were already in for a fire safety lecture, why not one on the importance of proper dosage? You faked outrage, actually just leading to another small coughing fit.

“Of course not. I drank it through a straw like a lady.” He looked between you and the bottle twice before grabbing it, and muttering a quiet “absolutely not”. Then he walked out with the medicine, back down the hallway.

“Spencer Reid, get back here” You attempted to call out, but your voice was hoarse, and you had no idea if he could actually hear you. Of course he came back not even a minute later, with a proper amount of medication, as well as a cold bottle of water. And you immediately downed them both.

“Now do you have a fever?” You gave a vague shrug, which was definitely not the answer he was looking for.

“Can’t be certain, I don’t have a thermometer. I assume so though.” When he leaned forward to put a hand to your forehead, you moved back just as quick. You were already embarrassed he was seeing you pale, red, and exhausted. You didn’t need him to feel the sweat definitely occupying your forehead. But you didn’t want him to think it wasn’t ok to touch you other times, when you were feeling a little more confident. You weren’t quite coherent enough to lie and make up another reason that he shouldn’t touch you, so you looked away and mumbled the truth.

“You don’t want to touch me right now. I’m gross. And full of germs.” You tacked on the last part, because if nothing else deterred him, you figured the prospect of germs might. But he rolled his eyes at you, and leaned further until he could finally feel your temperature. Both of you were actively trying to ignore how he was leaning over you in your bed.

“We spend most of our time together, we’re past the point of avoiding each other's germs. Not to mention that diseases are most contagious before symptoms appear, and I sat next to you on the plane yesterday.” He sat back, and you got up from where you were practically laying down.

“You definitely have a fever, but the Nyquil will help soon. Have you eaten today?”

“Yes” You weren’t a great liar on a good day, you certainly wouldn’t fool Spencer now. He just gave you a look like he couldn’t believe you were even going to try.

“I brought soup, let’s go to the dining room and I’ll heat it up for you. The little bit of walking will be good for your circulation if you’re feeling up to it.” You nodded and he held both of your hands to get you up as smoothly as possible. Then by the grace of go you put on a large jacket that covered you a little bit more, and helped Spencer feel a little less crazy, stupid, and creepy.

You ate together, in a companionable silence. Every once in a while you’d ask Spencer to tell you about something obscure and wonderful, and he would, with a passion that never ceased to make you smile. By the time you were done, the medicine started to make you a little loopy. Spencer coerced you back to your bed, picked up your cat to put him next to you. Which didn’t work even a little bit, as soon as he put him down he jumped back up to hide under the bed, but the thought was very sweet.

“Get some more rest, I’ll tell Hotch you need a few more days, and I’ll see you at work when you get back. Penelope said she’d make you her mothers vegetable soup recipe if it was the last thing she did, so expect that tomorrow.” You gave a delighted hum, Penelope didn’t like cooking, she didn’t really do so often, so this was huge for her. And the fact that it was for your benefit made you feel fussed over in a way you never thought possible. Loved, and yet somehow not suffocated. You snuggled back into your pillows, and let words slip you had said in your head a million times.

“This is why I love you Spencer, you’re so sweet to me” you had no idea you just shattered his heart and put it back together in a second. He dreamed of you saying those words to him, frequently. And the first time he actually hears them from your lips you’re half asleep and giving off enough heat to cook an egg. The fact you likely wouldn’t even hear him, let alone remember by the time you’re feeling better and the fog has lifted he allowed himself, just this once to be honest in this regard.

“I love you too.” Then he quietly left you to sleep peacefully, blowing out the candle on his way out, and secretly wishing you meant what you said. He didn’t believe in wishes, and in many religions that use candles as part of rituals or spells, blowing out the candle defeats the purpose, with the flame needing to burn to its fullest, or be gently snuffed out. But he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, stop himself from chanting his wish in his head as the flame went out, leaving only a puff of smoke behind.

His words echoed through your brain in sleep, to the point where you weren’t sure he’d actually said them by the next morning. You told yourself it didn’t even matter. If he did say them, it was platonic. He was just placating you while you weren’t feeling well. 2 days in bed, 24 hours fever-free, and a long talk with Penelope later (Over her fantastic vegetable soup) you decided to tell Spencer how you felt. At this point you’d rather be awkward coworkers who have a hard time speaking than whatever this is. This is painful, and leaves you crying because you can’t think of why you can’t get over this crush. If he liked you back, which you truly hoped he did, it would be like that small piece of what you wanted fell perfectly into place. And if he didn’t, which was a thought that terrified you, but you tried to brace for, you at least needed to know for certain.

First thing in the morning, you got there as early as possible, catching up on paperwork while waiting on Spencer to get there. You greeted a majority of your team before, trying not to let them see your nervous energy, playing off any odd behaviors as residual from your sickness. You couldn’t tell if it was working. (It was not working, but they weren’t going to say anything).

You asked Spencer to help you find a file for your paperwork and he thought he was in the clear. You either didn’t remember his little love confession, or were ignoring it for his benefit. Either way he was happy, he could continue to peacefully, painfully, pine for you without ever having to hear the finality of his inevitable rejection. He could imagine a world where he was yours, until the idea alone withered him to nothing. He could just follow you to the file room like a lost puppy dog.

Once the door was closed behind the two of you, you must’ve cleared your throat 3 times by now. You planned out what you were going to say, but everything felt off, too planned at best.

“So—um, sorry, I haven’t really done this before. I. I really like you, and not in like a friendly coworker way, in like a dating, relationship-y way. And I totally get it if you don’t feel the same way, we can totally just forget about it, but I just wanted to…tell you, I guess.”

It was like every nerve in his body blinked. Like his entire nervous system shutdown from happiness. He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t respond, because he couldn’t speak. But you were looking at him, for any sign one way or the other, so he got an extremely rushed response out, slower than the stream of his thoughts, but still barely understandable.

“I like you too, in a romantic sense, I mean. I thought you knew, I can’t believe you actually— you actually like me, like that.” You held his hands and gave him a kiss on the cheek, pulling him down a little bit so his face was actually within the reach of your lips.

“How could I ever not?” He pulled you in for a hug, and if it was any tighter he probably would have popped your back. Until you whispered into his collar.

“We should probably go back, we are technically on the clock, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we have some pretty nosey coworkers.” He laughed as he pulled back from you. But the laugh subsided into a nervous smile.

“Will you go to dinner with me tonight? For our first date?” He still sounded scared that you’d run away, that it was all some cruel joke and you’d yell ‘sike’ as you left him behind in the small room. But you didn’t you smiled and nodded and he held your hand when you walked out.

But when he opened the door for you, Penelope, Derek, and Emily came tumbling out, nearly falling over in the process. Clearly having been leaning against the door trying to eavesdrop. Unsuccessfully apparently, since they don’t hear you coming. When you cocked an eyebrow at their actions Penelope just waved you off.

“So?how’d it go? New power couple? Can I alert the masses?” You just laughed, she still hasn’t noticed you holding hands.

“Seems like you already did.” Then you ignored everyone’s questions walking off to your desks, as Emily pointed out your interlocked hands to Penelope and she practically swooned on your behalf.

[esthercore]

E-Whore (GN! Lewd Streamer Reader x HSR men with lewd intentions

Veritas Ratio | Sunday | Blade | Jing Yuan (different scenarios for each men ♡)

Kinda degrading terms used for reader simply because he would do it canonically, and i have a humiliation kink

Being a Trailblazer is amazing, but since it technically made you jobless, you needed some way to fund your shopping sprees when you visit new planets, so while some of your crewmates resort to farming calyx, you chose the easy way.

You had a hot body and you knew how to use it, making you an instant hit on the streaming site, moreover, as the site connected to servers in multiple galaxies, the chances of anyone you knew or will meet in real life knowing your side hustle are slim enough to never happen, right?

Wrong.

Despite Dr Ratio being a man of virtue and self-righteousness, he still has his moments where he is simply Veritas, a man with urges, annoying urges, and hormones that hinder his progress and goals, and despite him being able to overcome those distractions most days, today simply wasn't one of them.

So he reluctantly laid on his bed, putting up whatever porno that could get him going, till his eyes wandered out on the pesky ads flashing on the screen, beside the video he was jacking off to.

An ad for a streaming site, displaying a 'currently live' bouncy little thing stuffing their holes with a sizable vibrating dildo while making the cutest aroused faces as their body shuddered in pleasure. And out of character for him, his fingers automatically pressed on the link before his brain could even process it, as he got redirected to the streaming site.

Blink.

Blink.

"Ohh", he let out audibly, as he felt his dick twitch. It's you, the troublesome little trailblazer that was too foolish and defiant to hear out about their own stupidity, pouting and calling him pretentious (although that one was because of his mask), for when he told you 'how you're a hindrance for the work environment' when he first saw you in Herta's space station prancing around mindlessly, flirting and greeting the scientists during their working hours.

And now here you are, not only are you a pesky idiot, but also, a whore spreading their legs on camera for the whole world to see. But despite how low he thought of you, god did you look so good.

He let out low grunts, as he pumped the length of his shafts, pleased by the soft moans you were making on-screen, cute little whore, whining as a customer sent you a paid request to increase the vibration level, adoring the way your body shuddered.

So, stripping himself of his morals, he opened the token store, fingers moving as fast as possible to finish the payment as his fist was getting tainted by his precum as he sent you a tip, immediately hiking up to the stream's top donor, and despite him never consumed any lewd stream before the way your face lit up when you saw the big tip made him shiver in pleasure, ejaculating hard as you moaned out 'Ver' his username he put up in a hurry.

He laid there for a few minutes his mind hazy, and the post nut clarity hitting in hard, he really spent his money on an e-whore, him, the esteemed doctor ratio wasting his money just to hear you moan out his name.

And the worst of it was he knew he would do it again.

(Ps - He will call you whore or generally call your activities in private when he see you again irl)

[sooniebby]

If requests are still open, can I ask for somno/breeding kink with Beam from chainsaw man, with him just passing out on top of male reader after he finishes, basically just cuddling subconsciously. Love your work btw, they’re fun to read. If my request needs more description, I’ll try again

ఌ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐌

꧁ 𝘽𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Word count › 1.4k

Rating › NSFT

Warnings › beam dumb

Kinks › breeding, light somno

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

(Name) wanted to jump off a bridge. He knew what he was getting into dating someone as idiotic as Beam but he truly didn’t believe it could get so bad. Yet here he was, having to wait for Beam to wash off the cow shit he was drenched in. 

How did this happen? He wasn’t sure. Denji had come up with some elaborate reason why but (Name) had decided to just deal with him later. He groaned to himself as he slipped out of his work clothes, ready to pull on his pjs when Beam opened the bathroom door. 

A grin spread on his lips, “(Name), are we about to have sex?!” 

“No.” (Name) said, throwing his work pants at Beam’s face. He was way too angry to have any sort of sexual activity with the man that was just covered in cow shit. 

“Why not?!” Beam whined, walking over to (Name) with a pout on his lips. If he had human eyes, maybe he would’ve tried to use puppy dog eyes on him. 

“You rolled in cow shit.” 

“But I showered…” 

“No.” 

A huff left Beam’s throat as he sat down on the bed. He was silently sulking as (Name) continued to change. Ever since the first time they had sex, Beam was very into it. He always asked in the worst way possible for it but (Name) was used to that. 

“(Name)….” 

“No. Sleep.” 

Beam sighed but did as he was told, moving to lay down in his spot. (Name) turned off the lights and laid down on the bed, ready for a good nights rest after a stressful day of cow shit. 

It was only maybe an hour or so when (Name) felt something rub against his ass cheeks. 

Oh he wanted to jump off a roof. 

Beam was rubbing his naked (!!!) cock against his ass. 

Wait, his shorts were down. 

The absolute pervert pulled his pants down. (Name) was wondering what he should use to kill Beam but stopped himself. They had talked about something like this once—saying that it should be done randomly. But really? He chose today? 

The day cow shit touched his body?! 

Ew. (Name) tried not to think about the cow shit as he heard the stuttered breathing of Beam as he began to thrust between his ass cheeks. It was a bit flattering that Beam was using him as a masturbation tool, really. 

But he’d never tell Beam that unless he wanted him to get more annoying. 

Beam muttered something before easily pulling (Name)’s body closer, earning a grunt from him. He didn’t move for a second, seeing if (Name) was awake before continuing. The skin against each other was a bit harsh and it seemed Beam had noticed because he stopped. 

(Name) felt the blankets be pulled away to free his lower half, the cold air on his skin. He waited for any type of lube to touch his body only to hear the sound of someone spitting. 

No. 

No. 

WHAT THE FUCK?! 

(Name) wanted to cry. No fucking way that he used spit instead of the fucking lube in the nightstand right beside him. Did he forget?! How was the spit supposed to substitute for lube? 

He couldn’t just let this idiot continue. What if he tried to shove it in his poor asshole and he’d bleed to death?! 

“Beam.” 

“Sorry!” 

(Name) turned around to face Beam who looked embarrassed. “It’s fine. But don’t use your spit. Use lube next time.” He said, pointing over to the nightstand on Beam’s side. Beam nodded and grabbed the lube, handing it over to him. 

“So I can do it again just with lube…?” 

“Yeah, sure.” (Name) muttered, easily coating his fingers and shoving them inside. It was pretty easy to do—he no longer felt embarrassed in front of Beam either. Beam watched with amazement as he easily slipped his fingers in and out. 

“(Name), you’re almost on the same level as Lord Chainsaw!” 

“Bring up Denji again during sex and I’ll never let you fuck me again.” 

“Sorry.” 

(Name) hummed and motioned for him to get between his legs. Beam’s previous sad look was gone in a minute as he quickly went to the spot he had once called his ‘destiny’. Or whatever bullshit he spouts during sex. 

He kinda just says whatever on his mind. (Name) slipped out his fingers and laid down, using two fingers to spread open his hole. Beam grinned in excitement, grabbing (Name)’s legs and pushing them upward. 

“Thank you, (Name).” 

“I’m not a meal—hurry up.” 

“Right!” 

One quick thrust and he was inside. (Name) arched his back as he cried out in pleasure. He would never admit it out loud but he really believed Beam was pretty good at sex despite being so innocent otherwise. 

Maybe it was because (Name) really only had one partner before him. Or it’s that Beam’s much larger cock did most of the work. It didn’t matter really. 

“(Name).” 

“Hmm?” 

“Lord Chainsaw taught me something about sex.” 

(Name) wanted to kick Beam off of him but it was a bit hard with the strength the man had on his legs. He simply grunted in disappointment but continued to enjoy the steady thrusting inside his hole. 

“Did you ever think about me cumming inside?” 

“Hng?!” (Name) gasped at a the sudden drag against his prostate. He had never really did. Beam usually pulled out but (Name) had never told him to. It was just something he did. 

What would cum feel like inside…? 

“He told me we can make babies that way,” Beam grinned. “That’s a good idea, right?” 

(Name) was going to murder Denji after this. He could only whimper as Beam continued to push forward, folding (Name) into a mating press. This was a position they tried once and only once because (Name) complained he wasn’t flexible enough for it. 

He still wasn’t but he couldn’t exactly stop him. 

He was enjoying it. His cock was reaching in deeper than most of the other positions and no way in hell would he gave it up. The pleasure he felt was so different than anything else. 

His toes curled as he threw his head back, mouth opened in a silent scream. Their neighbours would surely talk to them in the morning about late night sex. The sound of the headboard against the wall would certainly bother them. 

To (Name), it was only edging him further. Each thrust into his body caused him to clench down on Beam’s cock. Beam himself was grunting at the pressure, muttering on about the supposed children (Name) would give him. 

Yeah, Denji was going to die tomorrow. 

(Name) wrapped his arms around Beam’s neck and gave him a small smile. “You can cum inside.” He whispered, gasping at a particular deep drag on his prostate. 

“Okay, okay. We’ll become a family this way, yeah?” 

“Sure, sure…” (Name) muttered, feeling himself close. 

Beam seemed close by the way his thrusting became unsteady. His usual rhythm that he had was gone and all he seemed to want was to chase his release. (Name)’s pleasure didn’t matter to him much right now. 

(Name) was close himself, biting his lip to stop the moans that’ll stream out of his mouth from the harsh thrusting. It took really only three more thrusts when Beam muttered something about being a good father. 

(Name) ignored it and whispered out words of encouragement for him to cum. 

One last thrust that somehow ended right at his prostate. (Name) arched his back and cummed on his stomach, a moan slipping from his lips. Beam was right behind him, cumming deep inside him. 

The feeling of the warm cum inside him made (Name) shivered. He could get addicted to this. His legs certainly hurt though as he tried to push Beam off of him. Only to realise that the damn fool was fast asleep. 

(Name) groaned at the much heavier body on top of him. Yeah, no way could he push him off. He sighed but decided to get comfortable. It was weird to still have Beam’s cock inside him but he kinda liked it. 

The feeling of cum slipping out of him though was bothering him. It was going to be hard to clean himself out in the morning. 

“Night, Beam..” (Name) muttered, smiling at him as he burrowed his head on his shoulder. The two cuddled for the night, enjoying the warmth of the other. 

While Denji in his own apartment sneezed violently. Why was he suddenly scared for tomorrow…? 

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

First ever Beam fic!! I’m trying new things with my writing lol—mainly small jokes in smut

Requests are open!! Yubin fic tomorrow <3

[slut4celebs]

Angel Baby

Olivia Rodrigo x Reader, Jenna Ortega x BestFriend!Reader

Word Count: 1,702 words

Trigger Warnings: a lot of fluff

Synopsis: A songfic based on Angel Baby by Troye Sivan in which Olivia and the Reader see each other after their decision to never date anyone ever again.

“I just think… Putting yourself out there wouldn’t be the worst idea.” Jenna said, glancing up at her best friend, who was currently examining her ice latte as if it were the worst thing to ever exist. Though, Jenna had come to realize (Y/n)’s face wasn’t towards the latte, but rather a way to pretend she wasn’t horrified by her suggestion. “(Y/n), come on. You’re amazing and talented. You deserve love. I have this friend… I would really like to introduce you to her. And, I heard you call her pretty before when we were flipping through a magazine.”

(Y/n) chose to refrain from rolling her eyes. “Another girl in the industry… great.” (Y/n) said sarcastically, wincing a bit when the disappointed frown that graced Jenna’s face appeared. She hated when Jenna pulled out the frown, an involuntary expression that only showed around people who knew her well enough to notice it. “Look, I just don’t think dating is good for me. All it ever led to was me locking myself in my apartment, missing three auditions that would’ve been amazing and totally mine if I would have attended, and me almost drowning in my cereal bowl.” She reminded, getting a little snicker from Jenna at the mention of when (Y/n) cried in her Fruit Loops, and Jenna had to lift her head from the bowl. She had milk all over her face, and Jenna had to take five minutes to keep from laughing.

Jenna grew serious though as she tapped the table. (Y/n) could almost groan, knowing what her best friend had up her sleeve. Undeniably, it was the best friend pact. Jenna was calling in a favor. (Y/n) could read it so clearly on her freckled face as Jenna tried to pick her words carefully. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to deny a favor of this caliber since Jenna very rarely pulled out the Best Friend Pact Favor. This was something they created on set of a movie they starred in together at the age of twelve. Since the creation of this sacred pact, they have stuck to it, using it to call dibs on being each other’s dates to events, help them avoid awkward questions asked by paparazzi, fans, and interviewers, and more.

“I hate to do this but… I’m invoking the pact.” Jenna said, leaning back in her chair. (Y/n) sighed deeply but waited, wanting to hear Jenna out. This was obviously something that had brewing in her mind for awhile. “Honestly, I’m worried about you and her. I think you two would be good for each other. I just want you to give it a chance. A real chance, (Y/n).”

(Y/n) ran a hand down her face, risking her makeup’s safety when she did. “Fine, fine. Just tell me who it is. That way I can plan something.” She agreed, taking a sip of her coffee, debating chugging it to get out of the coffee shop faster. But instead, she remained calm and just panicked on the inside. She knew that Jenna was genuinely worried about her and the fact that she complained a little too frequently about being lonely. Plus, it had been a year since her breakup to the girl who always put down her dreams for her own. Maybe it was time to put herself out there. Besides, Jenna knew her taste quite well, saying as they were going on almost ten years strong in their friendship.

“Ha, as if I would tell you upfront and risk you leaving as soon as you saw her.” Jenna rose a brow. She tended to know her a little too well. Admittedly, she probably would run. But who’s to say that’s still not a possibility given that she could go to wherever Jenna would drop her off at… She could also just sneak off. “You’re also not allowed to sneak out as soon as I drop you off. This date is going to be on Saturday at six, I’ve decided. Dress nice but not overly nice. Basically, a pretty blouse and jeans. Oh! And that leather jacket that you look super fucking hot in.”

A snort escaped her at Jenna’s words and she allowed her gaze to meet Jenna’s deep brown ones. “I’m beginning to think you’re setting me up with you.” She teased, earning a playful shove. (Y/n) found herself to be grateful that the shove was officially the end to the conversation. Now, they’ve moved onto better topics like filming and dessert they’ve had recently. She finally felt the tension caused by the conversation leave her shoulders as she listen to Jenna talk about a special dessert Emma, her Wednesday co-star, had her try.

On Saturday, Jenna dropped (Y/n) at a pretty popular celebrity hangout, that way she wouldn’t know who she was setting her up with. (Y/n) drummed her fingers on the table, fist against her cheek as she waited for some kind of clue for who it might be when someone unexpected caught her eye at the bar. Olivia Rodrigo. A guilty pit fell in her stomach as she looked around, completely abandoning whoever Jenna might be dropping off soon now that she was settled. Instead, she approached the brunette who was ordering a glass of wine.

“Good choice. I’ll have the same.” She settled by the girl, who looked over and smiled a bit. “It’s been awhile, Liv,” (Y/n) greeted her friend. She has always had sort of a thing for Olivia, not that she would say it out loud. Only Jenna knew. “How has the music scene been going? Please tell me your third album is coming out soon. I’ve been craving a new vinyl with your name on it.” (Y/n), being a big supporter of her friends’ works, bought their movies and vinyl's. This included Olivia. She had her Sour album, her Guts album, and even her Guts Deluxe album.

A small smile fell on Olivia lips as she sipped her wine. “I didn’t expect to see you here, (Y/n).” She leaned in, closer to the girl. “The third album might come sooner than you think.” She said with a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “What about you? What have you been working on as of late? Any movie I should be keeping my eyes out for?” Olivia winked, causing (Y/n)’s cheeks to heat up. She reminded herself, in that moment, that she swore off dating. She couldn’t flirt with Olivia. But Olivia seemed to be flirting, a little bit, with her. Was she being delusional?

Their conversation continued, and (Y/n) forgot about the fact that she was there for Jenna and whoever she would be bringing. She didn't know if there was anyone waiting for her, looking out for her. Her attention was just on Olivia. "Honestly, I wasn't excited to come out here tonight." (Y/n) swirled the wine around in her glass as more was poured. Their conversation had turned into something less of small talk. Now, they were going into deeper conversations, both agreeing that the dating scene has sucked. But there was an ease to their conversation that made them feel comfortable. That's how all of their conversations seemed to go.

Olivia frowned a bit, eyes searching (Y/n)'s for a moment. "Oh? Why is that?" She questioned the girl. (Y/n) found herself at a loss, not knowing how to explain that she had abandoned a potential date to join Olivia. Mostly because she knew that leaving whoever it was behind like that was wrong. However, she couldn't help herself to be so drawn in to the girl in front of her. She just had this way about her that always drew (Y/n) in. From their first conversation, Olivia had become someone (Y/n) deeply appreciated and welcome into her life. And that wasn't something she did often.

"Well, I don't want you to think I'm a bad person. It's just… Jenna was trying to set me up with someone, but I've just sworn off dating. Though, I'm starting to think that… you know, I shouldn't do that." She cleared her throat, cheeks burning at the insinuation that she would give up dating for Olivia. But she would. She would love to take Olivia on a date and not just sit in front of a bar, talking over a couple glasses of wine. "I just totally abandoned whoever she was trying to set me up with because I saw you. I couldn't help myself."

A smile fell on Olivia's lips. For a moment, she had turned away from (Y/n) before she let her brown eyes meet (Y/n)'s eyes again. "You didn't abandon your date. Jenna had me come meet you here because I swore it, dating, off, too. I'm also thinking that was a dumb idea, now, though. I just needed some wine before I walked over to you because… You make me nervous. Jenna asked me about you, and I said you were stunning and like the perfect person. That's how this whole thing got set up. I just was too nervous to tell you 'hi' when walking in." She admitted softly. The admission cause (Y/n) to lose that guilty feeling that was heavy on her chest before she leaned in. Olivia followed in the motion, their lips connecting gently.

They were both lost in the feeling before the bar tender told them they couldn't make-out there. So, (Y/n) pulled away, paid for both of their drinks, and left a big tip before leading Olivia out of the building. Olivia had taken her to her car, dropping (Y/n)'s assumptions that Jenna had dropped her off as well. This was a good thing because now, as two celebrities who were followed constantly by paparazzi, they had a sense of privacy. (Y/n) drew Olivia back in and the two kissed for long moments until they couldn't breath anymore.

"Just so you know… I'm going to take you out now. This time, without Jenna finding her way into the relationship." She joked, causing Olivia to grin widely. Their lips were reconnected, and the two knew that they about to be so lost in each other for what very well might be forever, with any luck.

[stoat-party]

Time for a phenomenon I call Schrödinger’s Tech - where I simultaneously think “that’s my boy” whenever The Operative does something cool, and also root for the good guys to defeat him by any means necessary (because if he dies, he was never Tech anyway).

The twist seems very obvious, enough that the writers could literally just be clowning on us for fun, but you do have to remember that the show’s primary audience is kids. Either way, I have to protect my mind from being wrong (worst possible thing that can happen), so I hold two contradictory storylines in my head at once.

Very good episodes, anyway.

I don’t want to make a separate post for this so just pretend it’s a reblog - The Operative said “You had your chance to be one of us. You chose the wrong side,” to Crosshair.

Which, in context, makes way more sense if “us” is the Bad Batch (notice he said “be,” not “become”), since Crosshair clearly doesn’t want to be a brainwashed drone. It does make less sense because that’s NOT Tech’s attitude toward Crosshair at ALL, and also The Operative is currently working against them anyway, but if The Operative had Tech’s full logical capacity then he wouldn’t be working for the Empire, would he?

The brainwashed clone dudes are interchangeable, so there’s no reason to show this one surviving if he’s not someone important — unless the writers really want to make us look like idiots, which I REFUSE TO RULE OUT

[oatmealuv]

love for love’s sake carefully, and beautifully handled mental health. they didn’t sugar coat the depression myungha and yeowoon were experiencing.

a lot of times in bl we see characters going through hardships, but by the magic of love they’re better again or everything gets fixed. external love definitely plays a huge part in healing and being able to get through hard situations more swiftly, but it’s hardly ever the sole solution.

myungha getting a bf didn’t cure him, gaining friends didn’t cure him. he had two guys wrapped around his finger, his grandma was alive yet he still has low self worth. he’s someone that has been depressed for so long, has had deeply ingrained negative beliefs about himself that have kept him from ever being truly happy. he believes that nobody could ever love him, he can’t bother anybody with his problems because he’s a burden.

this is why depressed people isolate, they believe all of the things the depression is telling them and it is incredibly difficult to change that. it can take years to change the way you percieve yourself and the world, i think the buffs were the blockages in myungha’s perception. when yeowoon said “i love you” to him, there was an error message because deep in his soul he believes that as an impossibility. his buffs were because of his attempts to getting close to yeowoon, he saw it as a danger because getting close would mean that he would burden yeowoon.

myungha’s life was so so sad, poor guy was dealt such bad cards. his mom living happily without him as if he never existed served as proof of the negative things he’s been telling himself. realizing that you’re nothing to no one, that you’re hard to love or you’re too much is such a hard pill to swallow. it might not be objectively true, but if your mind believes it, then that’s all it takes to completely break your spirit. myungha kills himself because he sees no reason for his life, his mom abandoned him, his gf broke up with him, and his grandmother is dead. his reason for life is reliant on other people it isn’t an internal reason.

now when he’s in the game, he’s faced with the choice of who he loves more, yeowoon or his grandma. i think that they decide to make him choose between them because he can’t fathom receiving love from two people at once. it’s overwhelming, and terrifying for someone that has had limited quantities of love his whole life. his love for yeowoon is the truest love he’s ever felt besides his grandmother. yeowoon and myungha are equals, share a lot of similar life experiences, yeowoon opens up his heart and is ready to be there for him unconditionally. even when myungha refuses to share what he’s feeling, when he is actively breaking his heart, he is willing to change whatever it takes just to be around him. having someone show you that unconditional love is both incredible and so scary at the same time. that person is seeing you at your most vulnerable, at your worst and still choosing you.

myungha is used to self-abandonment, it’s all he knows. he felt like choosing yeowoon would mean choosing himself, and in turn would mean he is selfish and leaving is grandmother to die. if he chose his grandmother he would stick to his usual self, but yeowoon would possibly go back to how he was in the beginning and die. to him everything seems like a huge risk because he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders. of course in the game that really was the consequence, choose one life over another. but i think this show really did a great job at showing just how impossible choices can be when you’re depressed, how warped your point of view gets. but i couldn’t help to think what would’ve happened if he had chosen himself, maybe that’s what he was supposed to do.

[nanaminsmoon]

hey hru :) can i request connie x reader being both hyper sexual but reader chose celibacy so the sexual tension is always high and the make out a lot and connie can’t take it anymore

now how did you know that i was thinking about this like an hour before you suggested it?🤨 anyways i'm good and i hope you like it fren🤭

cw: horny!connie x celibateblackfem!reader, pnv, phone sex, masturbation (f+m), connie calls reader; 'ma', 'hermosa', 'my good girl', ('gorgeous), 'cuero' ('whore'), 'mételo, ma' ('put it in, ma'), 'despacio' ('slowly'),

wc: 3162 + lazily proofread bc i'm tired lol

your celibacy had started long before you met him. after wasting your time with too many useless men, you decided to focus on yourself which led you to the decision to try and avoid sex until you were dating someone for, at least, two years. as good of an idea as it seemed at first, you couldn’t help but grow to hate the hastening of your heart each time you had to tell a guy you were feeling about your somewhat ‘extreme’ decision. luckily you only had to do it once, before you met the man who could only be described as your worst match; connie springer.

connie had a reputation that proceeded him, and a long line of women who would do anything for him because the dick was just that good. the first time you had met connie, one of his friends had brought up his nickname, ’cuero’. and once you found out what it meant, you hid your shaky voice with a small laugh. but, contrary to what you had thought of him, connie didn’t really care about you being celibate because he just wanted to be with you. though it took a while to get used to, he made sure he respected your decision and adhered to all your boundaries surrounding physical affection.

but sweet gestures would be layered to hide the bitter truth. that being, connie had never been through anything as difficult as this in his life. his friends called him dramatic, but he told them that they would never understand how infuriating it was to be laid next to the prettiest girl he had ever seen, his borrowed shirt moving up her body, and her thong doing nothing to cover her skin. all of that meaning that the warmth of her ass would just be pressed up against him, as he squirmed and cursed under his breath. for the first time in years, connie’s cheeks and ears rouged at the heat radiating off a woman’s skin, growing at the place you two connected to engulf him whole. he felt like a teenager again in the worst way possible; once natural mannerisms became awkward, words stumbling over each other in a way that made him cringe. there were too many times he felt like you could read his lewd thoughts as he watched you perform mundane tasks like getting dressed. but you had never noticed the way he observed you, wondering what you’d look like clothed in lip marks, accessorised with hand shaped stamps on your ass cheeks.

unbeknownst to your boyfriend, he wasn’t the only one having a hard time. celibacy had been a fairly simple journey until the day you stumbled across a fine dominican speed bump. now you worried about catching him as he came out of the shower, towel loosely hanging from his hip bones as steaming droplets of water slid down the valleys on his toned abdomen. or the dreaded times where he’d wear those stupid fucking compression shirts, with those stupid grey sweats and nothing underneath. when ovulation week rolled around, everything your boyfriend did felt like a taunt to you; sleeping in just his boxers, smacking your ass, kissing you, even the way his tongue and fingers moved as he rolled his blunts had you crossing your legs and shifting in your seat.

it had gotten to the point where making out wasn’t cutting it anymore. and that’s how you and connie’s sex life began to escalate. one night, your hormones got the better of you so you called your man in need of relief. excitement was audible in his voice when he picked up the phone, but it would soon be substituted with a panic that would seep out of his pores, when all he could hear was you breathing heavily. but, something in his brain told him not to say anything so he remained quiet as he listened intently. that’s when he’d realise that those heavy breaths were laboured, and probably caused by whatever was buzzing in the background.

”i need you to put a baby in me, pa”, you had suddenly broken the silence, and a deep breath left connie’s mouth. he’d have to shift in his seat to calm himself down, but it’d do absolutely nothing.

”you can’t say shit like that, hermosa.”, he replied through clenched teeth. luckily he had just sold to his last client of the day, so he’d stay on the phone as he drove into an empty car park. within seconds, his dick would be in his hand and his own breaths would harmonise with yours over the phone as he fucked into his hand, and talked you through your nut.

prior to that day, the furthest you had gone was kissing. whether it be in his car, in bed, on the couch when you’re meant to be watching a movie, or even when connie would join you in the shower to kiss on the wet skin on your neck, you had never crossed that line. it was definitely difficult when he’d be stood right behind you, his bare dick touching your cheeks and all, but you’d always keep it together. that was until the day you were sat on his couch, getting ready to watch a tv show together. everything was fine, until connie went to wrap a blanket around you. it was something he had done many times before, but this time was different; due to your proximity, his breath was going straight into your ear, and it’d grow uneasy as you maintained eye contact. the sound of his breath picking up was reminiscent of the times you’d fucked over the phone, and the salacious memories were making your eyes gloss over. connie could read you like a book; he wouldn’t even reach the second page before his hand would be on your thigh. it’d linger on the warm skin before it’d move up your shorts, while he connected his lips with the skin on your neck.

when he finally did pull back, connie would place his lips on yours in a kiss that was sweet…until it wasn’t. its romantic feel would fade out as soon as he heard you moan when he put his tongue in your mouth. and, once he felt your hand so high up on his thigh that it was practically touching his dick, he would throw away all regard for where his hands were—they’d start grabbing anything they could. discernment told connie to pull away, because your lips were shooing the blood in his head to the place between his legs. yet, it’d all go ignored. instead he’d pull you onto his lap and smile against your mouth when you just let him. the wetness between your legs would rub against the hard length about to break through his boxers as your hips moved on top of it. all that could be heard in that room was heavy breathing, quiet moans, and the sound of connie’s hands occasionally landing on your skin to smack your cheeks when he got bored of massaging them.

the feeling of your hands on his nape, and running through his short buzzcut, travelled throughout connie’s body to will his hands to pull you down onto his bulge as he began chasing any form of relief from you. still lost in how bad you wanted him, your hips would subconsciously help connie by moving faster. and it wouldn’t be until he pulled away from your lips to lean his head back on the couch that you’d be alerted of your actions. they’d immediately cease, and connie wouldn’t get what was happening so he’d be kissing on your neck,

”it feels so good, ma, just keep movin’ on me”. that request would be met with you moving yourself from him completely. judging by the pensive look on your face, connie knew exactly what had happened and remorse began to wash over the arousal he had once felt. soon his hands would wipe his face, before he placed one on your knee.

”i’m sorry, y/n.”, he quietly apologised, ”i…i don’t know what the fuck happened. i guess i just lost myself”, he picked your hand up, and kissed your knuckles repeatedly. of course it wasn’t just him, you should’ve known better too, so you shook your head and pulled him in for a hug.

”it’s fine. i fucked up too”, you chortled before pulling him back and awkwardly going back to watching whatever show you had picked.

and that should’ve been the end of it. but the feeling he had formed in your clit had yet to subside. so when you moved to his bed, later that evening, you decided it was about time you gave him what you both wanted. connie leant against the head board, with you cuddled up by his side and, with your each and every movement, it was clear to see that he was still sensitive after what happened earlier. using that to your advantage, you’d lay your hand on his thigh and, as soon as that contact was made, connie’s eyes would dart to you. just as he was about to open his mouth and question your actions, you got up and climbed onto him. curiosity told him to move his parted lips, but intrigue kept them still as he watched you move closer to his neck. small pecks on his skin would increase in length, as well as intensity, and a few marks would decorate his neck, before you moved on to kiss and suck at his earlobe. that, mixed with the way your hips started moving again, brought back the memories of what had unfolded on his couch a few hours ago.

”y/n”, connie voiced, head still tilted to give you better access to his neck and ear, ”what about…?”, the end of that sentence was unfinished for two reasons; connie didn’t like bringing it up, and he was just too horny to think of the word.

”fuck it.”, you answered curtly, “i just need you so bad, pa”, connie scoffed at you, yet he still wouldn’t move from his position, he’d just place his hands on your hips.

”you sure?”, his eyes opened to look at you, and they’d see you nod softly before you stopped what you were doing.

”i mean, if you don’t want to then we can just—”, you began to taunt your boyfriend, but he’d cut you off.

”fuck that”, is all he said, before he’d flip your positions so you were laying beneath him, and he was stripping your body of anything covering it.

connie had seen you naked many times during the 7 months you had been together, but you would’ve never guessed with the way his eyes were darting all over the place, not sure what to do with themselves. because they were seeing you in a way they had only ever dreamed of—dreams that would end in embarrassment as connie trudged to change out of the moist fabric covering his lower half. but now that you were in front of him, wanting what he did, he would have to take a second to think. then, once he knew what he wanted, connie would move from the bed to rummage through one of your bags. confusion would scrunch your eyebrows for a second until connie returned to your line of vision with your vibrator in his hand. cockiness would stretch his lips into a smirk at the discovery that you were unaware of him seeing it when you were looking for your socks earlier. thinking of all the possible things he wanted to do with it pulled you out of the present moment until the droning sound of the toy brought you back. in the time you had been daydreaming, connie had walked to the side of the bed and when he handed it to you, you’d look up at him to say ”really?”. he’d chuckle as he nodded,

”i need to see what i’ve been hearing for so long”, he explained, and your eyes rolled before they eyed the device as if you’d never seen it before. though you wanted connie, you couldn’t refute the fact that the prolonged buzzing noise exacerbated the wetness between your legs. so you’d spread them, and the way you acted without instruction widened connie’s eyes. they’d stay that way as you used the wand to tease your clit, moaning his name as if he were the cause for the way your thighs were already starting to tremble. and connie’d just watch you; eyes fluttering shut, as you leaned on the pillows and keened his name. he wouldn’t even realise that he was holding his breath until he let out a heavy sigh.

”mételo, ma“, he ordered gently, as he moved a chair and put it in front of the bed. his dick would be in his hand as he watched you do as he said. the calls that he had began to yearn for at the end of every day seemed meaningless in comparison to the display before his eyes; his beautiful girlfriend sprawled out in front of him, legs shaking at a toy she wished was him instead, and a growing patch of wetness on the bed covers underneath her.

”despacio”, connie’s strained voice managed to reach your ears, and you nodded, sliding the toy in you slower to give connie a better view of the slight stretch.

so lost in it all, your eyes hadn’t opened since the toy had touched you—your head had been on the pillows below you, as your back arched off the now wet bed. you’d only pry your drowsy lids open when you felt connie’s hands on yours, pulling the toy out of you, licking a strip of the wetness on it, before throwing it on the bed. he wouldn’t even bother to kiss you as he knelt on the bed, his thumb moving over his raging tip as he positioned himself between your legs. pink, and needing to touch the spot inside you that he knew would drive you crazy, connie’s tip would be rubbed in between your folds to collect as much of your arousal as it could. and, for the first time in too long, connie’s ego would awaken at the sound of the gorgeous woman whining underneath him, toes wiggling aggressively as he teased you. after a while, it started to look like connie was teasing himself; though he had literally dreamt of this moment, he wasn’t rushed. instead, he wanted to take his time and make you feel so good that you would beg him to fuck you every single second of every single day to make up for lost time.

when his tip finally did enter you, it’d still there for a second. it was during that second that you started wondering if you could actually take connie. you knew that he was big, but the thought of actually having to deal with that stretch had always been pushed to the back of your mind. luckily for you, he’d push the rest of his dick into you very slowly. and, about quarter of the way inside you, his forehead would be on yours—already sweaty, and starting to wrinkle in the middle. romance would reintegrate itself during that one second, because connie would connect your lips again, allowing his tongue to dance with yours in a messy kiss that would spur his hips to move again. and, as soon as the sound of his balls smacking against your ass registered in your mind, you’d intertwine your hands at his nape, keeping your lips attached to hide the sound of your moans. connie’d quickly catch onto what you were doing, and pull back from you to shake his head,

”nah, ma, i’ve been waitin’ on this f’r too damn long. let me hear ya.”

connie wouldn’t need to ask you twice because, after that, you gave him exactly what he wanted. and, other than fawning over the way you were cussing using the spanish you had learnt from him, connie was losing his damn mind. this was your first time fucking, and he honestly felt like it was his first time ever having sex because of how hypersensitive his dick was. he could feel every single micro spasm of your walls, and when they intensified to the point where it was difficult to ignore the twitching of his balls as you continuously clenched around him, he knew you were close.

”fuck, ma, how you been keeping this from me?”, he asked at you and you’d mumble out a nonsensical response. all you could focus on was the fact that your release was at the tip of your curling fingers, so everything else was just fading into the background,

”’mm so closee, p-pa, p-pleasee”, you pleaded, and connie pressed your legs against your chest as he fucked into you with more haste.

”need you to promise to never keep my pussy from me ever again”, he demanded through gritted teeth, and you nodded desperately at him, ”’f you wanna cum then you gon’ have to speak t’me, ma”, he kissed his teeth, and you would try your best to gather yourself to start speaking.

”i p-promise i prom-mise pppromise”, you stuttered out, and connie’s smile warmed you from above.

”that’s my good girl”, between the praise, and connie’s dick abusing your cervix, it wouldn’t be long before pleasured tears left your closing eyes as you came around him. and, being a retired man-whore, connie thought he could take it, but he really couldn’t; as soon as you started tightening around him, his eyes would shut firmly as he struggled to move in and out of you.

”shit.”, he whispered, head bowed.

his intentions to make you yearn for his dick wouldn’t be neglected. they’d quickly come into fruition because, even as he filled you with load after load and fucked you in every position his filthy mind could think of, you would still beg for more of him. in the time space of a few hours, you two had gone from trying not to give into each other, to refusing to not be connected in a way that made you both sweat. most of connie felt satisfied with himself, yet a small part feared the monster he had created.

© Rights owned by nanamoonsinc. Do not repost without permission.

[starrycassi]

Ballister's been through this many times. Ambrosius comes into his room, hysterical, to announce him of some ridiculous upper crust rule or ball or challenge that he's got to participate in. He knows the drill by now; listen to him, reassure him and help him get ready, be it brushing his hair or co-writing a speech for him to give.

The Goldenloin family puts up an act for people to show off Ambrosius and his many qualities every so often. He doesn't really care, not anymore. He used to panic alongside Ambrosius, when they were thirteen. He's seventeen, now, and the novelty of it has worn off — it's just kind of funny, really, to see his boyfriend suffer through hours and hours of whatever bullshit he's supposed to do now.

This upcoming event, however, is doing a number on Ambrosius's nerves. He's pacing back and forth the room, and he hasn't even looked at Ballister yet. His tic — the one in his left eye, is back, and his lips are red and swollen in the places where he's been bitting them. It's barely five am, and Ballister knows that this is going to be a long day.

"You're going to get nauseous if you keep spinning around, Amber" he tries to start the conversation, voice soft and words slow. Between them, Ambrosius has always been the worst when it comes to keeping his emotions under control. Ballister's learnt, by now, that sometimes it's just better to give him space.

"I'm nauseous already. Some spinning won't hurt, I'm sure" he snaps back, almost screaming. Ballister decides that talking to him won't be possible right now, and goes back to the project on his table, making sure to hold the screwdriver at the right angle.

After fifteen minutes or so, Ambrosius finally stops. He whines, letting his body weight drag him down on Ballister's mattress.

"What is it, this time?"

Ambrosius's silent, only whining a bit more after the question, like a wounded dog. That's new. He usually loves to go on rants about how everything is going to go wrong and how the whole world hates him in secret. Ballister puts down the tools, quickly scribbles down what he's supposed to do next to avoid future mistakes, and sits down next to his boyfriend, threading a hand through the other teen's hair.

They stay like that some minutes, Ballister working his way through the blond strands and Ambrosius simply lying there. Ballister's starting to think that he's fallen asleep, when Ambrosius finally speaks up, face still buried in pillows.

"They're marrying me off, Bal"

The world stops spinning.

Ballister goes static. His whole body freezes, and his heart stops beating. He can feel the blood on his veins going cold, so cold his bones feel stuck, too.

This was a expected situation, kind of. Captain Gloria, Ambrosius's mom, had been married off, too. She didn't like her husband in the slightest and they never talked to each other. Ambrosius told him all that.

She had also promised to keep her son away from that predicament. But Ballister knew better than to trust mothers. His own had abandoned him some years ago, after all.

"What... How? What?"

Ambrosius sits up, criss cross, hugging a pillow. He's such a kid. His eyes are already watery, and he's got a red nose, probably from slamming his face into the pillows.

"Not- well, not actually marrying me off. Mum doesn't want that, y'know" He shrugs, looking at his own hands. "But she can't really... just go against tradition, I guess. So, uh, there's going to be a tournament, figths, you know? And I know I'll probably win, she chose combat because she knows I'm good at it, but what if I don't win?"

He takes a deep breath, grunting. Ballister's brain is struggling to catch up, so he can't do much more than nod, encouraging his boyfriend to keep talking.

"It's not going to be like here, only us, cadets and students, where I know I will undoubtedly win. Actual grown ups could get in there, Ballister. My mom's been screaming to anyone and everyone about how ridiculous everything is, but- I guess rules are rules. I haven't slept. We stayed up all night on the phone, she tore down the whole family's library, called all of our lawyers, we tried every single article and law ever written. Nothing. The best we can do is... hope"

"The Captain's right. This is ridiculous, Ambrosius. What do you mean grown ups? Why? That's fucking creepy. Can't you guys just... say no? You're a Goldenloin, surely you-"

Ambrosius grunts, again, tugging at one of his hair strands.

"It's not that easy!" He screams, shutting Ballister up. "I've been getting proposals for... for forever! It's not really a matter of love as it is a matter of money, Bal. I've been getting proposals even from before I was actually born. Political alliances and all that. Mom's been doing her best, I know she has, but when a heir has said "no" enough times, then a duel or something can be called up, and an actual tournament would be way easier than just fighting every single idiot that wants to get my last name!"

Ballister's never been happier to be an orphan commoner than right now. His only worry when it comes to marriage is whether or not he can afford a pretty ring.

It's not like commoners don't marry for money. Arranged marriages were a pretty common thing around him, young kids marrying older people to try and get their families ahead, forced by their parents, their "spouses" or their economical situations. He just... never really had to worry about it, ever since he became a knight.

"That's incredibly fucked up, Ambrosius"

"I know ! I am well aware of how weird this must be for you, Bal. And I have absolutely no backup plan. My mom's confident that I'm winning, because Goldenloins never lose, but I'm not her! She can still beat me when we spar together, what am I going to do if someone else wins? Just... get married?"

Trying to come up with a solution, Ballister stutters and stammers his way through a sentence.

"You could, uh, get married and have a divorce, right?"

"No! Totally no! You don't get it! Whoever wins gets to ask whatever they want from my family, money, land, my hand- whatever, and then that's irrevocable!"

Stressed out, Ballister screechs. Of course he doesn't get it. No one ever bothered to explain this to him. He knew that parents could force their kids to marry (Captain Gloria once told him the story, very drunk and very mad at her departed dad) but not that a whole fucking event could be staged even if the family said no.

"It's not my fault I don't get it, you twat! Do you think the knigth training automatically gave me political marriage bullshit training, too? Well, no, it didn't! I'm so sorry for not knowing you weird ass nobility traditions, Ambrosius, I didn't realize I was supposed to!"

Getting up from the bed, mad at the world for being unfair and at himself for snapping, he runs his hands through his hair, with the impulse to simply rip it all off. It quickly gets replaced by guilt. Ambrosius has done nothing wrong, and here he is, being an asshole instead of helping.

"Amber... Shit, I'm sorry. This is just-"

Chuckling humorlessly, Ambrosius waves his hand in the air. He looks up at Ballister, and shakes his head.

"You're right. Sorry. I just forgot. I always do"

They already went through this, too. Ambrosius is good at keeping Ballister up to date, always happy to explain the situation, but sometimes things just... slip his mind. It isn't anyone's fault, but it's still annoying when it happens.

"Sorry, too. For calling you a twat"

Ballister leans down, tentatively. Ambrosius doesn't hesitate to lift himself up, and they share a quick kiss. All is forgiven.

"So... what now?"

Silently, they both try their best to think. Ballister's mind is blank, just screaming at him to get a sword and go decapitate however wrote the fuckin rules. He ignores that voice, per usual. The fucker's probably dead, by now, anyway.

Ambrosius is the one who gasps, and smiles all of the sudden, so bright that the sun should be jealous. He bounces on the bed a couple of times, clapping to get his boyfriend's attention.

"We're both idiots!"

Ballister frowns, confused. An awkward smile is all he can offer Ambrosius, wondering if his man finally went crazy.

"I see no correlation between our supposed idiocy and the problem at hand, Amber."

"Come on, Bal! This is easy. I have the best plan" he giggles, like a kid that just got a new toy. Ballister can tell that this plan probably will suck and get them in more danger than necessary. And he's so on board. Always on board, when it comes to Ambrosius.

"Which is?"

"You!" Exclaims Ambrosius, rolling his eyes. "You're my plan"

"Excuse me?"

"You're going to compete and win, Bal"

Perhaps he never should've become a knight, that way he never would've fallen in love with this absolute trainwreck of a man. Is it too late to go back to being a random kid and forget about all this? Probably.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

A Companion (Otto Hightower x Young Widow!Reader) Chapter 2

Lord Otto Hightower invites a young widow and her family to his study early the next morning to discuss a personal matter.

Series Masterlist Here

Pairing: Otto Hightower x Young Widow!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Warnings: discussion of spousal death

Author's note: This definitely took me a year RIP

Chapter 2: A Proposal

“Get up, lazy girl,” a grating voice spat as your blanket was ripped away, shocking you awake. You scrambled to cover yourself before looking to see who had woken you so rudely – though you had suspicions.

It was Sybelle, as expected. Your good sister and quite possibly the meanest woman you’d ever met, though some of the older ladies you’d met in the capital had nearly claimed that title for themselves when they learned you hailed from the swamps of the Neck.

You shook away the memory and focused your gaze again on Sybelle. She sneered at you with disdain and amusement. But there was something in her eyes, something more sinister than the usual glimmer of cruelty. You hardly had any time to ponder what it was before she grabbed your arm and pulled you from your bed, shoving you roughly toward the dressing screen in the corner of the room. “Do try and find something that doesn’t make you look like a specter of death, won’t you?”

With that, she left—thankfully. You leaned against the top of your trunk as you caught your breath, trying to rationalize the last few moments. The sun had not yet fully risen, so you hadn’t overslept. Then why had Sybelle been awake before you? She had never done so before. What had stoked her hatred of you so? What caused that new malice you saw glittering in her eyes?

After the feast the night prior, you returned to the apartments Gryff, Sybelle, and you had been granted for your stay in the capital and had not left since, so she couldn’t be angry that you’d gone anywhere unchaperoned. Other than a few muttered comments, you had not said anything that would cause this kind of anger.

You thought that they would be quite pleased with you after your conversation with Lord Hightower at the wedding feast. Although, it was probably foolish to ever think they could be anything but dissatisfied with your very existence. They would be until you were finally married and no longer their responsibility.

Oh. The answer was painfully clear now.

A suitor must have asked to meet you. That’s why Sybelle had been so demanding about what you wore.

Who was it? Some licentious old man looking for a final conquest before the Stranger takes him away? A younger man so unpleasant that no father would dare give his daughter to him? Or, as Gryff had threatened the night before, a mere boy, to whom you would be more mother than wife?

Anticipating the worst, you chose to style yourself carefully. A simple, modest dress in rough-spun purple silk – several shades darker than the Whitehill crest but just bright enough that they could not scold you for wearing black. You braided your hair back in a way that indicated neither maidenhood nor marriage, but something in between. And as always, you wore the silver pin Locke had given you on your breast, right over your heart.

Sybelle was waiting when you emerged from your room – still scowling. Gryff was beside her, looking at once miserable and thrilled. Whoever they were to sell you to, he must be wealthy beyond imagining.

His scowl grew even deeper as Gryff looked you over than his wife’s. “You are fortunate we don’t have time for you to change.”

You refrained from mentioning that he had neglected to shave his stubble while he turned toward the door and stomped out, Sybelle closely behind.

For a moment, you briefly considered staying where you were. They were so angry they likely wouldn’t know you weren’t following them until they reached their destination. But as horrible as it may be to be married – sold, really– to whatever man they chose, it would at least offer an escape from them.

So, you raised your chin and followed. You would decide what picture to paint for the man when you saw him. If he were acceptable, you would do your part to appear sweet and demure to help secure the betrothal. If he was not… well, you had become quite good at portraying the undesirable widow.

-

Your heart began to race as the distance between you and your apartments grew. Gryff and the guard he followed led you out of the guest wing of the Red Keep and toward the Royal Sept. Had negotiations already been settled? A deal already struck? Were you being led not to meet the man you may marry but to marry him at first sight?

The guard turned, and you were so thankful you would have agreed to marry him then and there. He led you into a narrow stairway and began climbing without a word. You were so relieved that the question of where you were going never occurred to you until you reached the top of the tower, and a guard opened a large, oaken door.

Lord Otto Hightower stood from his desk. He wore the same clothes he had at the feast, now thoroughly rumpled, as was his hair. The tips of his long fingers were stained with ink, likely from the large stack of parchment now at the center of his desk. He did not smile, but his eyes lightened as they fell upon you, and he inclined his head. You returned the gesture.

“Lady Whitehill, it is a pleasure to see you again.” His voice seemed lower than it had the night before – rougher. Had he not slept? He looked at Gryff and Sybelle as if he hardly noticed them. “Lord Whitehill, thank you for agreeing to meet with me so swiftly.”

“My Lord Hand.” Gryff’s smile wavered nervously as he bowed far deeper than necessary. “My dearest and most sincere congratulations on the felicitous marriage of your dau–”

Lord Hightower held up a hand, silencing him. “Take a seat. We have much to discuss.”

Gryff and Sybelle quickly claimed the chairs at the table by the window, leaving you to stand. Lord Hightower’s diplomatic smile fell, and he glared at your good brother.

“At last night's feast, I had the great pleasure of speaking to Lady Whitehill.” He smiled only when he said your name. “You are very fortunate to have such a fine young woman representing your house.”

Sybelle looked as if she might protest his statement. Gryff looked like he was about to faint as he stammered. “Yes, well, I – ”

“Would be remiss to see her leave, I am sure. Nevertheless,” he grabbed the tall stack of papers, “I have called you here to ask for her hand.”

Some juvenile sound of shock escaped your lips. Every eye in the room turned toward you. You covered your mouth and ducked your head. “Forgive me, my lord.”

When he said he would help you, you never imagined this.

Why would the second most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms want to marry you? You offered no wealth nor alliance. You were no great beauty whose smile inspired songs. You had nothing that would earn you a place anywhere near the Red Keep.

Was it a dream? After Sybelle stormed into your room, had you fallen asleep again? It must be a dream. You would surely be woken again soon. Well, there was no harm in enjoying the dream before it ended, right?

Gryff’s nervous pallor faded into a bright blush. “You wish to marry her?”

Lord Hightower glanced at you, then smiled. “I do.”

“This is most generous, my lord,” Sybelle leaned in to speak for her flabbergasted husband, who only sat there with his mouth open. “We may be amenable to the union. However, we must first negotiate an agreement to ensure the match benefits both our houses.”

Neither your father nor Gryff possessed anything that Lord Hightower could not get for himself. You laughed at Sybelle’s ridiculous notion, drawing all eyes to you. Muttered an apology, but only half-heartedly – it didn’t really matter if you behaved badly in your dream.

“Naturally. I have already drawn up an agreement.” Lord Hightower dropped the papers on the table. He hummed slightly, looking at Sybelle like he might admire her cunning if circumstances differed. Gryff, he regarded with a flat smile and eyes filled with disdain. “It is quite thorough, so I will grant you an hour or two to familiarize yourself with the details before we begin negotiations.”

Gryff was still too dazed by the proposal itself to realize the hidden insult in the words. He only nodded dumbly. You stifled another laugh. It was strange that you had not woken up yet. You were sure someone would have stormed back into your room by now.

You flushed slightly as the Hand’s eyes met yours, feeling the prickling warmth in your cheeks. It felt so real, more so than any other dream you’d ever had. Your stomach sank. Was this real? How could it be?

Yet, when you reached up to touch your face, you found it warm. And when you subtly pinched your palm, it hurt.

Gods, this was real.

Lord Hightower smiled at you before continuing, “If you would prefer privacy while you read, you are more than welcome to remain here. I only ask that you allow Lady Whitehill to accompany me on a walk through the gardens so we may become better acquainted.”

While Gryff watched the papers before him as if they would come alive and attack him, Sybelle quirked her head suspiciously.  “Unchaperoned?” She gave the Hand a sickeningly innocent smile. “I know she is no maiden, but surely we must maintain her decency.”

Any trace of courtesy faded from Lord Hightower’s face. “Are you implying that I have dishonorable intentions?”

The threat was clear. Sybelle shrank back in her chair. “Of course not, my Lord Hand. I simply –”

“Two of my guards will be with us,” he interrupted curtly. “You have nothing to fear. I shall give Lady Whitehill all the respect she is due.”

That, Gryff caught. The subtle jab that they had not done so and the threat in the Hand knowing it. He grumbled an apology and turned his head down at the papers. His wife merely seethed.

Lord Hightower barely acknowledged them before approaching you, an arm held out for you to take. “My Lady, I am glad to see you again so soon.”

When you laced your arms through yours, it was warm and strong and steady. This was real – he was real. And at this moment, he was your favorite person in the world.

You beamed at him, your savior. “The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”

-

Otto commanded his guards to follow further than usual, wanting to give Lady Whitehill privacy to process his proposal. He’d seen her surprise – and heard the small, disbelieving giggle she’d let out – when he declared his intentions. For a moment, he had worried she would refuse, that he had been too presumptuous in offering his own hand rather than that of a younger man.

But as he glanced down at her when they reached the base of the tower, she looked content – her cheeks rosy and eyes bright, maybe even a hint of a smile on her lips.

Yes, there was silence between them, but it was comfortable. He felt the need to speak not because of any awkwardness or restlessness between them, but because of their situation. After all, a man should talk to the woman he had just proposed marriage to, should he not?

As they entered the gardens, he finally broke the silence. “Is there a garden at your home?”

She furrowed her brow. “My father’s keep in the Neck or Highpoint?”

Her having to ask indicated that she considered either both or neither her home. He sincerely hoped it was the former. Otto cleared his throat. “Forgive me for being unclear. Why not tell me about both?”

She looked away as her smile grew. “Highpoint is so far north that very little will grow, though there are several winter rose bushes around the Heart Tree. But there are very large gardens at Lily Glen. In the Neck, flowers don’t only grow from the ground but upon trees and in the water. They are strange to some, but I find them beautiful. It is much wilder than the gardens here.”

Otto stopped beneath one of the trellises leading to the butterfly garden. “You have already seen the gardens.”

“Yes,” she confirmed, ducking her head slightly. “The morning of the wedding, with all the other women.”

“I apologize, Lady.” He should have known, but he had barely slept that night, too consumed with drawing up the marriage contract. Foolish. Hasty and foolish.

“There is no need for apology, my Lord Hand. It is still a pleasant sight.”

“You are very gracious.” He sighed. This was not how he wanted to begin their companionship, with her thinking him disinterested in her desires and needs. “Is there another place in the Keep you would prefer to see?”

She thought for a moment, turning back to face the castle as though she could see what lay beneath the red stone. When a raven’s caw echoed within the keep’s outer walls, she gasped, eyes searching. “Could we see the Rookery?”

Otto started, nearly dropping her arm in his surprise. “An unusual request. Why there, if I may ask?”

“I have a fondness for birds,” she said shyly, her cheeks flushing darker.

“Really?” Birds, of all things. He had certainly found himself a… unique woman to wife.

“Yes!” She was as excited as a little girl, yet Otto somehow found it endearing, and could not help but smile as she spoke. “There are so many birds at Lily Glen, with many different colors and songs. Not in the North, but… even the ravens fascinate me. And they are quite easy to befriend, if you know how.”

Smiling, Otto tightened his grip on her arm and turned, leading them back to the Keep. She was unusual, but there was a keen intelligence beneath this odd interest. Besides, he would much rather have a strange but interesting companion for a wife than a woman who was ordinary and entirely dull. “That is a skill I do not possess myself, I’m afraid. But perhaps you could teach me, my lady?”

-

“Gods, there’s hundreds of them.” You had only just caught your breath after climbing all the many stairs leading to the Rookery at the top of the Maester’s tower when the glorious sight of the birds stole the air from your lungs. Lily Glen had only a dozen ravens in residence, Highpoint only twenty, but this…

Lord Hightower stood beside you, the bag of dried berries one of the young maesters gave you when you arrived still in his hand. If you weren’t mistaken, you could hear more than a hint of smugness in his voice. “The second-largest in the realm.”

There was a place with even more ravens than this? Such a thing was unimaginable – a fantasy. “What is the largest, if not the capital?”

“The Isle of Ravens in Oldtown.”

Of course, you should have realized. But any embarrassment faded the moment you glanced back and noticed his clothing. All green but for the gold symbols of his office – his chain and the pin on his right lapel. Oldtown was the seat of his house. His home. “Have you been there before?”

“Once, when I was a boy,” his eyes grew distant, at once nostalgic and remorseful. My father took my brother and me to see the white ravens when I was young. I don’t remember it well.”

“I’ve always wanted to see a white raven.” The rarest and most important birds in Westeros, or perhaps the world. Only dispatched from the Citadel to announce the changing of the seasons. You had never seen one, having been but ten years old the last time the season changed, not that one was sent to Lily Glen. Only a few were sent to the swamps, leaving most houses to learn the news days or weeks later when a messenger finally arrived.

Lord Hightower hummed thoughtfully, drawing your attention back to him. He was smiling gently. “Perhaps I can arrange for you to see them, as I will soon have cause to bring you to Oldtown.”

“But…” You nearly protested that women were rarely allowed entry to the Citadel, but then his words sank in, and you looked away again.

‘I will soon have cause to bring you to Oldtown.’

Because he had asked for your hand only an hour ago. You, alone, could never dare to hope to see the Isle of Ravens. But it would be simple for the brother of the Lord of Oldtown to arrange to visit with his new bride.

You looked back up at Lord Hightower to find his eyes already fixed on you. “I thought you may have questions for me. You do, don’t you?”

“I… yes, I do.” You stepped away to hide your blushing, reaching into the little velvet bag for a handful of dry berries, which you spread onto a ledge before stepping away. Several birds examined the berries, then you, then the berries again.

“Why me?”

The Hand chucked slightly, gently. “Yes, I anticipated that being your first question.” His eyes softened as he looked upon you. “The answer is simple: you asked me for my help, and this is the best way I can think to give it.”

A single raven flew onto the ledge, carefully inspecting the berries you laid out.

“But…” Your heart was pounding, and you found it difficult to face him fully. “Forgive me, I am grateful for your help, but I do not understand what you gain from this.”

He sighed. “The King… has commanded that I take a new wife.” The tone of his voice suggested there was more behind those words, but it felt impolite to inquire further – even if he was currently proposing marriage. “But I have no need to marry for advantage. I already possess my own wealth. I have three adult sons, so I do not want for an heir. I have position as both Hand of the King and now, as father to the Queen.” He looked at you and paused. “I am free to marry whomever I please.”

The way he looked at you as he said that was almost… boastful? No. Lustful? Not that, either. The closest you could think of was righteous, but that couldn’t be it. Whatever it was, you could not decipher its meaning nor how it made you feel.

“And I please you?” You asked. “We have known each other for less than a day, my lord.”

“I loved my late wife dearly.” His pain – pain you yourself felt acutely – was evident in the softening of his voice. “As I believe you loved your husband.” There was an odd twinkle in his eyes. “I have no desire to replace her, but if I must wed, I wish it to be with someone who will understand me. Someone I believe will be a good… companion to me.”

Having eaten all of what you laid out, the raven flew back to his nest to rummage around before returning to its perch before you, chirping curiously as it held out a bent sliver of metal. You held out your palm, and it dropped the metal, immediately clicking its beak in the hope that you were hiding more food to offer it.

“What is that?” Lord Hightower asked, his gaze locked on the scrap of metal now in your hand.

“Brass, I think.” It was well-tarnished, but there were still parts where its shine peeked through—a valuable thing for a raven. You immediately laid out more berries, and several more ravens descended, now convinced of your trustworthiness.

Lord Hightower stepped closer to you. Gods, he was tall. He held out a hand. “May I?” You smiled and tipped some of the berries into his hand. He laughed, a low, rumbling sound like distant thunder. “I meant the brass, my lady.”

Nevertheless, he still laid out the berries, mimicking your movements to ensure they were well distributed. He flinched slightly when one of the ravens flew over his shoulder, close enough for its wings to brush his cheek.

“Apologies, my lord,” you half-laughed as you placed the brass in his hand. Your fingers brushed against his as you withdrew, and despite the warmth of the Rookery, you could not stifle the shiver that ran through you.

He brought the sliver of brass closer to his face, eyes narrowing as he examined it closely. How could a person look so wise? You had never before thought that wisdom could be seen, yet it was there, on his face and in his eyes.

After a moment, he smiled. “I believe that this is the clapper of a bell,” he declared. “Most likely from a crier’s bell.”

You looked from him to the bell, then back again. “How do you know that?”

“I know many things, my dear.” He went on as if he hadn’t noticed what he’d called you. “Sometimes I can’t recall how or why I know them; I simply do.”

Of course, he must have learned much in his years as Hand, first to the Old King Jaehaerys and now to King Viserys. When you were born, he was already a man grown, a married man, an important man. And you were simply a girl from the swamps. What would people think when they saw you by his side?

Would you ever be by his side? He said he did not wish to marry for love, or lust, or advantage. So, what would your purpose be as his ‘companion?’ Only to sit in his rooms and entertain him with moderately diverting conversation? He might as well purchase one of the exotic birds from Essos you had once read of – birds capable of speech.

Lord Hightower had looked away when you raised your gaze, watching intently as several more ravens flew down to the ledge, some with more trinkets. More shiny bits of metal, a few dried flowers, one even brought the nib of a pen.

Better to ask him now rather than after you unknowingly agreed to be his caged little bird. “If you would not require advantage, heirs, or love, what would you require of me, my Lord Hand?”

He sighed as he straightened. Had you disappointed him?

“There are some requirements of the wife of the Hand.” His brows tightened, and he folded his hands over each other. Elegant. Thoughtful. “Attendance at formal events. Frequent socialization amongst the highborn of King’s Landing. I also… I would encourage you to take up some charitable works, as well.”

More dressing up. More being stared at by women who considered you little more than a curiosity. At least the charitable works were enticing.

The corners of his lips twitched upward slightly. Had he noticed your hesitance? “But beyond that, you would be free to pursue your own interests. I would provide any funds you need to do so. And, if you wished to travel, I would not dissuade you. I want to grant you as much freedom as I can.”

‘Travel.’ You could go home. See your father and brothers for the first time in over two years. Go to places you’d only ever dreamed of. You could have a freedom that most women in the realm – in the world – would never have. And Lord Hightower… he would be kind. So very kind, you knew. For only a kind man would offer you so much for very little in return.

“Very well.” You emptied the bag of berries onto the ledge and tucked it back into your sleeve.

When you turned to face the Hand fully, he was watching you curiously. There was something akin to nervousness in his eyes. Such a strange expression for such a severe and powerful man. He held his hands behind him. “Very well?”

You stepped closer. “Very well, Lord Hightower. I will marry you.”

He smiled wider than you had ever seen, drawing a hand up to cautiously cup your cheek before looping your arm through his. “I am very pleased to hear it, Lady Whitehill. But please, if we are to be wed, I would prefer if you call me simply, ‘Otto.’”

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War (8)

Summary: The aftermath of all her family secrets might be more chaotic than Reader bargained for when her powers suddenly start to flare. Good thing her Warlord has more than a few ideas how to help navigate it ;)

Content Warnings: Depressive thoughts, Reader mentions wanting to die; Suggestiveness, Slight SMUT; Canon Typical Violence

Author's Note: To make up for the last chapter being so short, please enjoy that flirty little bastard being a menace! ;)

Chapter 7/Masterlist

---------------

I don’t sleep at all that night. I lay there, Rhysand sleeping soundly beside me, exhausted from the events of the last couple of days. He’d barely kept his eyes open long enough to eat. I’d barely managed to choke down a few bites myself. The guilt has my stomach in a perpetual knot. I’ve dedicated so much of my life to hating this male, only to be wrong about all of it, and now I’m in too deep to even do anything about it.  I can’t go home. There is no home to go back to. My family slaughtered an innocent mother and daughter. Rhys received their heads in boxes like some sort of twisted gift. They were supposed to be allies and my father betrayed them in the worst possible way. He paid for it with his life, with my mother’s life; it should have been the end of it. Tamlin was given a mercy and he should have taken it. He should have abandoned my father’s teachings and become a better lord, a better man. Instead, he perpetuated the cycle of abuse and suffering. He encouraged me to hate these people, to covet everything they had as if they were undeserving of it. All these years I loathed our miserable existence thinking the Mother hated us and was being unjust in giving these people all these things that we were never allowed. But we deserved it! We were the bad guys all along.

I roll over onto my side to look at him. He still sleeps in his armor, knife still strapped to his thigh, sword resting against the tent pole only a foot away. He’s ready to be up and fighting in a moment's notice. Our father’s were so similar, and yet, he turned out to be merciful and kind and somehow, so startlingly gentle that I often forget he’s still capable of intense prowess. He is the only male I’ve ever truly felt comfortable with, because that gentleness came as a response to the violence he’d seen, not because that violence was never there. He’d felt the cold sting of it, and chose to be something gentle instead of returning it.

And here I am, with all that righteous anger that had kept me warm on my coldest days, choosing to return all the violence that had been inflicted on me onto others. Just as Tamlin did. Just as my father did. 

And looking at it I don’t want to be him. He ruined my mother! He took something good and kind and locked it away and used her for his own ends! I don’t even know if he ever really loved her. Why would you keep the things you love in a cage?

I sit up abruptly. Maybe he was as scared of being alone as I am. 

I can’t sit in this tent anymore! I can’t-

Rhysand jolts awake as soon as I move, hand twitching for his knife, shadows swirling off his body in response to what his sleep muddled mind thinks is a threat. “What’s wrong?”

I put a hand on his chest, spinning onto my knees so I can kiss his forehead. “Nothing, I just need to relieve myself.”

He lets me push him down onto the mat, body relaxing and pliant beneath my touch. “You sure?”

“Positive.” If he tried to follow me out now I think I really might explode. My stomach feels like it's ripping itself apart. My bones ache, my skin feels like it's stretched too tight over them. There is too much nervous energy bound inside my body. I just need to get out and stretch my legs; get some fresh air and clear my head. I will be fine if I can clear my head.

“Take your knife,” he says, eyes already drifting shut again. 

I strap it to my thigh as I slip from the tent, gulping down lungfuls of crisp, mountain air as I go. I just need to clear my head. Is finding a way to survive this fucked up world really me acting like my father? I’ve never killed innocent people. I’ve never withheld necessities or lorded my power over people. I’m just not being honest about my intentions. It’s shitty. I’m using a mating bond I’m still not wholly sure is real as a means to getting food and shelter and, hopefully, a decent helping of mind blowing sex.

Cauldron that sounds really, really fucked up.

But how am I supposed to tell him? Hey, I know that you really don’t like my family and they’ve done nothing but screw you over but I also accepted your offer to try and ruin your life and take all of your land and kinda only just changed my mind about it yesterday. And it would be really super cool if you just let that slide because I have nowhere else to go.

That would go over soooooo well. He’d be totally fine with it! 

I ground my palms into my eyes as I walk behind a couple trees to at least make it look like I really did need to go pee. There are men on guard duty, no doubt someone is going to see me wandering around camp.

My brain feels like it’s being squeezed by my skull. There has to be a way to go about this that doesn’t get me tossed out into the coming snow, while also not lying so deeply about it. I do care about him. It was a lie at first but now…

I put my back against the tree and slide down until I’m sitting on the rocky ground, head still in my hands. I don’t know if he’s my mate. There’s something there, I feel it pulling at me, even now, but I can’t give it a name. And I want to be here. Not just because of the story he’d told yesterday. When Lucien tried to get me to leave, I really didn’t want to go back with him. But how am I supposed to live with the truth? How am I supposed to look at him and see that he wants this so much more than I do, despite everything?

Actually, why does he want this, despite everything? He’d asked me why I stayed. I never asked him why he brought me here. There’s certainly enough bad blood between our families to make even a mate hesitate to bring me in.

I lean back against the tree, the rough scrape of the bark against my aching skin a relief. My body feels so strange, being around Rhysand’s magic has made it feel like there’s something beneath my skin.

Tomorrow, in the morning, I will ask him why he still brought me back. Then I will decide what to do. 

------

He certainly doesn’t make asking him easy. Rhys wakes me up with his lips on my throat, along the fading marks he’d left a couple days before,  trailing them down as his hands hike up my sweater. The heat of him against the early morning chill has my resolve slipping, all my plans slipping through my fingers as he runs his tongue over my peaked nipples.

I can’t think past the roaring in my ears; the ache in my body for more, more, more. There is nothing and no one but him as he trails lower, each kiss more forceful than the last as he heads for the waistband of my pants.

“Rhys,” I moan, voice still thick with sleep, even as my body arches under him. I want him everywhere. I need him everywhere. The stirring feeling beneath my skin is worse today, only quelled by the trail of his hands on my body. For once, my racing thoughts are quiet. If only we could stay like this. 

“Hmmm,” he hums into my stomach, just beneath my navel. There’s a bit of stubble along his jaw, the scrape of it against my oversensitive skin makes my eyes roll back into my head. “Did you want something, mate?”

“You,” I groan, hand reaching out to tangle in his hair to try and move him where I need him. 

He grins, I can feel the upturn of his lips against my stomach, but he refuses to budge. Just nips at the skin visible above my waistline. “You have me.”

Bastard! My whole body trembles beneath him. I can’t get a breath down fast enough. I need him everywhere all at once. “Need you inside me,” I bite out.

He simply hums again, hands tugging at my waistband with an inhumane slowness that makes me feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin. I use the hand not in his hair to grip the mat, trying to ground myself, trying to find some semblance of control again. I’m gripping so tight my bones ache, fingers feeling like they’re breaking. There’s a tearing sound, a pricking sensation in my palm and then a gush of something wet across my hand. 

Even he looks up at that, and when I turn to look, I’m more than a little surprised to find that I’ve grown claws, and I’ve just tore them right through my hand!

“Shit!” He’s gone from between my legs in an instant, all the heat in my body leaving with him. 

I can’t unfurl my hand. Can’t retract the claws, they’re stuck through my palm with my fist closed around it. I’ve only ever grown them in anger, how the hell had I done it now?

Rhysand comes back with a towel as I manage to sit up. “I thought you smelled different this morning,” he muses.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I hiss.

“Our magic can be protective. It can hide itself if it doesn’t feel safe. I don’t think you were born with too little, I think you were born with too much.” His fingers massage my wrist, trying to find the right pressure points to help me unclench my fist. “I think that it buried itself inside you to keep you safe. And I think, now that you’re here, it’s manifesting, and like the wards, it has its own scent.”

Fan-fucking-tastic!

“Well I’d like it to un-manifest,” I hiss. “I was doing just fine without it!” There’s blood dripping through the towel, if anything it feels like my claws are burrowing deeper into my palm. I can practically feel them trying to tear right through the back of my hand.

He can’t seem to find the right spot and trying to pry my fingers out of my palm is a no go. He frowns, lifting the towel for a better look. “I’m gonna try something.”

I’m prepared for a blow from his own magic, some form of glittering starlight or shadowy darkness, I am not prepared for him to kiss me again. The sound I make in surprise is somewhere between a growl and a gasp because what the hell is he doing? But even though my head is struggling to catch up, my body is not. On instinct, I lean back to allow him better access, his tongue slipping behind my teeth. The rolling feeling beneath my skin lessens, the tightness in my palm slowly releasing. I thread my functioning hand through his hair as my body gives what I can only describe as a sigh of relief. A moment later, the claws retract and I can finally unfurl my fist.

“Flair ups can be heavily tied to your emotions,” he says, lips barely off mine. “Probably wasn’t the best idea to tease you in the middle of one.” 

It takes him all of thirty seconds to find some rags and tie up my hand, even though the blood flow is already lessening. All I can do is stare at it while he does it. This is certainly a new and unwelcome development to this whole mess.

“Is that going to keep happening?”

Azriel pops his head into our tent, unannounced as usual. “Are you two done in here or what? I, personally, cannot live with Cassian if he beats us around the mountain.”

“We’ll be right there,” Rhysand huffs.

“I’m seeing a trend with him,” I mutter. 

He smirks, “It’s one of Azriel’s many charms.” 

He helps me to my feet, holding onto me like he thinks something else might just burst out of my skin. Truth be told, I can still feel something shifting around, a prowling animal begging to be released from its cage. I’d thought it was my unease this whole time, but maybe it’s worse than that. 

“We don’t know how deep your power well is,” Rhysand says. “And if it’s never fully manifested…” He blows out a breath. “When mine first started manifesting, I shredded a whole section of camp with starlight. There was a whole twenty-four hour period where my shadows blocked out the sun. And you’re my equal so, yes I think that will keep happening.”

Cauldron boil me!

“As long as you remain calm, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I should think you would know better than to tell a female to be calm, Rhysand.”

He grins, “Well you can also spend the day making out with me, since that seems to be such a lovely little distraction with you.”

I go to hiss an insult at him but the only thing that comes out is an actual, animal-like growl. I clamp a hand over my mouth in embarrassment while he bursts out laughing. 

“This is going to be fun!” He declares.

I am not at all inclined to agree.

----

I only manage to ride with him for an hour or two before the pull of his magic makes my skin start to itch. He was right about magic having a scent. Half way through the hour I suddenly become very aware of the jasmine scent of him. It’s everywhere. In every breath. Every brush of his chest against my back, every movement of his hands along the reins. My body is hyper aware of every place we do and don’t touch.

“Getting all worked up again, aren’t we?” He purrs in my ear.

My jaw feels like it’s snapping as a set of fangs tear through my gums, spurting blood into my mouth. Somehow his magic is the catalyst for my transformation and the balm all in one. I can’t be near him and I can’t be away from him, as I soon learn. When I jump off the horse and declare I’m going to walk beside him, my claws return, in both hands this time. At least they shoot out my nail beds and not my knuckles like Tamlin’s.

The thought of him makes another growl rumble through my chest and something that feels suspiciously like fur sprouts from the back of my neck.

“Wouldn’t recommend,” Rhysand warns.

The itchiness of my skin is even worse on the ground. I feel the wards tugging at me like I’ve been tied to the glittering magic that builds them with a string.  The jasmine and overripe fruit scent of them is enough to make my nose crinkle. Apparently the transformation heightens my senses as well.

“I’m gonna tear off my skin,” I snarl, fidgeting with my collar. Why is it so itchy? Is it supposed to be like this?

He slows his mount to keep pace with me and I do not miss the grumbled complaints of the males behind us. My ears twitch every time one of them speaks, the sound sometimes like a shout and others like a far off echo.

“Breathe,” he says gently. “The more worked up you get, the worse it will be until we can find a way to safely expel it.”

I draw a shaky breath, then another. 

“Good girl.”

A shiver works its way up my spine at that.

“Now come here,” he leans so far out of the saddle he’s only holding on with his thighs, and my first thought is how we can get this little caravan to pause so I can be the one beneath him. He gets an arm around my waist and hauls me back up onto the horse and damn if that’s not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen a male do!

“Let’s get these wards up-” I’m hyper-aware how every word rumbles through his chest, the way his body shifts on the horse. “-And we’ll find a place to camp soon enough, then you and I can work on this.”

“Make it stop,” I gently beg. “I don’t want it!” The itch beneath my skin is becoming unbearable! My claws scratch up my arms, tearing up my sweater. 

His free hand covers mine, intertwining our fingers, even as the horse begins to move. “Focus on me.”

I focus my attention on the way his body molds against mine. The way the leather of his glove slides over the back of my hand. I let my eyes drift shut, focusing on the brush of his chest against mine, the swaying motion of his hips as the horse moves over the rocky terrain. It’s not enough. Not like the feel of his lips on mine had been this morning. As if he knows it, he drops his head against my shoulder, nose brushing over the exposed skin of my throat. 

“I’m right here,” he continues. “Focus on me, just like you did this morning.”

This morning there had been a lot less clothes between us. 

“Breathe for me.”

It is a physical effort to draw a deep enough breath in; another to pull my claws away from my itching skin. He settles our joined hands against my stomach. 

“Again.”

I manage to do what I am told, just barely. 

“Good. Just like that.” His voice makes a shiver run down my spine as my mind spins with all the other things I want him to talk me through. I think I could do just about anything if he explained it to me in that rich, husky voice he was using in my ear. “Part of learning to control it is finding your center. Find a safe mental space to retreat to.”

“Like what?” There are few places in the world I have ever felt safe. Thinking about how I used to sit in the rocking chair with my mother and listen to her stories only fills me with pain now. Or perhaps a couple weeks ago I might have thought about all those summers I spent at the creek with Lucien, but now it only makes the thing beneath my skin rumble and shake like there’s some sort of animal that lives caged beneath my ribs and is trying desperately to break free. What makes me feel safe?

“A good memory, a happy time,” he lists. 

I have nothing. My eyes start to water and my throat starts to close, talons growing longer and sharper at my fingertips. I feel the give of my leather chest-piece beneath them. Everything good in my life has been a lie! Everyone that was supposed to protect me only ever hurt me in the end. None of it was ever real.

And this, this thing that could be something, that could be real, I had ruined it. I have to lie to keep it. I have to pretend that I had every right to hurt him, when it was really the other way around. The only person who had ever told me the truth, who could see me for what I was, and I had ruined any chance of it being real before it had even had the chance to start.

A sob slips out of me and with it, the tree we pass erupts in a flurry of leaves and twisting, screaming bark that makes the horse rear. The earth rumbles, random cracks splitting in the rock face, gnarled vines crawling out of them like tentacled monsters. The itching in my skin won’t stop! The more I try to trap it the more the world around us screams in protest. 

“Breathe, Y/N,” Rhysand orders in my ear. “You have to breathe.”

“I can’t!” I choke out. 

He slides his hand out of mine and brings it up against the side of my temple. It feels like a shadow unfurling from his fingertips, but the brush of it is not against my face, but inside my skull. Darkness clouds my vision from the inside out. It feels as if my brain is being emptied, piece by piece with shadows until there is nothing inside my mind but him. 

“Breathe,” he commands, the voice of a Warlord. “Now.”

I choke on each breath. 

“You are safe, Y/N,” he says, gentler. There is nothing in the world but the two of us in this dark little bubble. Nothing but the press of night chilled jasmine and calming, all consuming night. From somewhere far off, I hear music on the wind, the swell of stringed instruments pulling my attention away from the itch running beneath my skin.

“Why is this happening?” My body feels so impossibly small, yet like it’s being stretched beyond its capacity, my bones trying to tear through the confines of my skin all the same.

“Our powers can very easily get tangled with our emotions,” he explains, the hand on my temple drawing shapes into my skin. Somehow, after looking at the stitches in the tent walls, I know he’s spelling something out in Illyrian, but I’ll never know what. “The last twenty-four hours have been a lot for you, I’m sure.”

There is no room to think about it in this headspace, no twisted memories to plague me, only the music and the faint twinkle of stars for company. I let myself fall into it, let it swallow me and fill me until I feel disconnected from the pulling of my skin.

“I don’t want this power,” I whisper into the darkness.

The darkness caresses me, wraps itself around me as surely as his arm around my waist. “I know, but we don’t get a say in what we’re given, only what we do with it.”

When have I ever truly had a say in anything?

“What if I hurt somebody?” What if I am just as bad as my father in both intentions and power? If I am capable of plotting to ruin someone’s life based on a lie, how much more capable am I of turning these claws on someone else? Maybe power is passed from my mother, but that will never change the fact that I now carry the same weapons that were used to scar me, and Rhys, and probably his mother and sister. 

“You won’t,” he assures. “I’ll be right here to teach you. You can control it.”

He has far more faith in me than he should.

----

Once we’ve stopped for the night and camp is set up, Rhysand takes me by the hand and leads me out into the empty, grassy plains beneath the mountain. The knee-high yellow blades are brittle this time of year, cracking under our boots as we walk until only the smoke from the campfires pinpoints where we left the others. We’re far enough away that I won’t hurt anyone if I lose control again.

Shame flushes my cheeks. I’ve always prided myself on being the calm one of the family; always able to keep my emotions shoved deep down beneath the surface to keep them from getting the better of me. I thought I was good at it. I was wrong. It’s only been the constant brush of Rhysand’s shadows against my mind all afternoon that have kept me from tearing everything I touch to shreds. Even now, my hands ache from often my new claws have sprung and retracted from my fingertips.

I must feel about as awful as Rhysand looks. The circles under his eyes have not lessened in the slightest, and every once in a while I’ll see him start to sway, like it’s an effort to stay on his feet. The scent of his magic has lessened, the night blooming jasmine fading behind the citrus and salty scent of him. He shouldn’t be out here with me, he should be resting, recharging his own magic so he can be prepared for more warding tomorrow. According to Azriel and the scouts’ reports, we should meet up with Cassian and Mor’s group by this time tomorrow and Rhysand will need all his energy to ensure both ends of the wards are fully meshed together. 

We stop once we’re cushioned between two large hills, nothing but the chirp of crickets and the stars to keep us company. The Mountain looms dark and shadowy beneath the small sliver of the moon. 

“This looks like a good place,” he says as he finally releases my hand.

I keep my lower lip between my teeth, hands shaking at my sides. I don’t want to do this! Entertaining the idea that I have powers to train and use is foolish. I don’t need to learn to use them; I need to learn to shove them back down into the darkest parts of me where they can’t hurt anybody. 

“Let’s start with something simple,” he suggests. “Tell me where you feel your power the most.”

My hand comes up to poke between my rib cage, where the stirring and itchy feeling is the most concentrated. “Feels like something is trying to break out of my skin,” I say softly.

“The claws and the fangs could be a beast form,” he muses. “Or it could just be some shape-shifting powers you inherited from your father?”

The mention of that bastard makes the stirring in my chest feel like a tidal wave, raw energy crackling so hard and fast through my veins that I feel it crest out my fingertips. The grass around me withers and dies, the ground beneath it crackling and rumbling with what feels like the early stages of an earthquake. I can’t have powers like my fathers!

There is no shortage of pity in those violet eyes and I press my palms into my eyes with a groan. I can’t do this! It needs to stop! I need to bury it now before it runs away with me; while I still have some control over it. Because if it goes any further than this…

Maybe Tamlin was right to send me away. Maybe he did know about my powers and that was why he got rid of me. I couldn’t hurt anybody if I was alone in the woods.

Rhysands shadows drift along the floor until they can slither up my calves, rubbing affectionately against me in a way that reminds me of a cat. “It’s ok,” he soothes.

Tears stream down my cheeks. “Make it stop!” I beg. “Show me how to bury it again.”

His shadows trail higher, winding over my hips and waist, even as he steps closer, leaving barely a breath between us. “Y/N…” he shakes his head, trying to find the right words and I feel a strange pang beneath the movement in my chest.

“Please,” I whimper. “I’ll do anything! Just make it stop.”

He cups my cheek and I give myself the briefest moment to fall into the warmth of his touch.  “I know it’s scary, and that it hurts, but this is good. It has to be released. You will die if you don’t.”

Then let me. The words freeze on my tongue when a tendril of his power flicks over his shoulder, down his wrist, to brush against my cheek, but that doesn’t stop the spiraling of my thoughts. Let me be free of this pain. Let me go out before I become a monster like my father. Let that awful bastard be right; let me be useless and worthless and incapable of doing anything he could be proud of. 

As if spurred on by my thoughts, the grass around me continues to wither, until there’s a whole circle of dead earth surrounding me. The harder I try to draw it in, the wider the circle becomes. Power sizzle through my nerve endings, a fire that digs itself into my veins and when I curl my hands into fists to try and stop it, I pull weeds through the cracks in the earth, the gnarled, leafy branches reaching up like skeletal hands that wrap around my, and Rhysand’s ankles.

“Focus on that spot,” his free hand taps gently against my ribs. “Focus until it feels like you’re holding it.”

I try to imagine the power like a bowl filled with sloshing, dark liquid. I imagine myself reaching for the lip of the bowl, the cracked edges and rough wood a mirror to the one that used to sit on our kitchen table, full of apples I’d sneak when no one was looking. If I make it familiar, it feels easier to focus on. I imagine every crack in the bowl, every worn edge, focusing until I get a mental hold around the edges. Now all I need to do is tip the bowl over. If I spill out its contents, there will be nothing left inside me to unleash… right?

“Once you can hold it, focus on containing it. Imagine it like a bottle, get all that energy into the bottle, and put a lid on the top,” Rhys says like he can hear my plans.

The liquid inside the bowl bubbles and hisses as my conflicted feelings run circles through my head. He hasn’t been wrong this far, I should do as he says, but I can’t help but feel like indulging this is a mistake. I can hear my father’s voice inside my head, telling me that this is not how females are supposed to behave. 

I can feel the weeds I’d summoned dying around me. Can feel every blade of grass as if it was somehow attached to my skin. The longer I hold that imaginary bowl, the more aware of this power I become, but it doesn’t feel like control. It just feels like more things pulling at me, trying to move me in directions I’ve never decided I want to go in. 

The ground rumbles beneath my boots again as my mental grip slips, and when I open my eyes the weeds, dead as they are now, have slithered all the way up my chest, reaching for my throat like some decrypt hand. 

The air leaves my lungs in a rush and with it, the dead vegetation crumbles and turns to dust on the wind.

Rhysand should be looking at me like I’m a monster. He should be stepping away, shadows swirling, that giant sword in hand. We are supposed to be enemies and he should be looking at me like I am one. But he’s not. He reaches out and brushes some of the ruined plant off my shoulder instead.

“It’s ok,” he assures. “No one gets it on their first try. Not even me.”

That compassion and understanding makes my chest ache worse than any restless power ever has. I don’t deserve it. I wish he would treat me like the horrible creature I am. He would be better off if he tossed me out into the woods like Tam.

He stiffens and I can’t help but wonder if I accidentally said that out loud because his eyes darken as he closes the gap between us and takes my face in his hands. “Maybe I’m taking the wrong approach.” His voice is clipped, husky. 

Good, maybe he can finally see me for what I really am.

I am wholly unprepared for him to crash his lips against mine. My brain short circuits, the agitation I feel morphing into that desperate, needy thing I had felt this morning. Just as I tilt my head back, lips parting to let him in, he pulls back. 

“Let’s play a game.”

The power in my chest feels like it’s going to rip out of my skin again. 

“Match what I do and you’ll get a reward,” he explains. “If you can’t…” He takes a step back and it is an effort not to chase after him, but the message is clear enough: Matching his efforts means his hands, his lips, his body is on me again, fail to do so, and he puts space between us. It shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t make me want to try, but I do. Gods I do! 

“Ok,” my voice shakes a little. In the back of my mind I still think it’s a bad idea. Maybe I will regret it in the end, but this thing between us is the only thing that makes sense. There is nothing between us when his lips are on mine. I need that distraction tonight.

He holds out a hand and a ball of shadows emerge, the tendrils of darkness crawling out from beneath his skin to form the swirling shape. “Find that spot in your chest and push it into your hand. It’s a part of you, it answers to you. Make it answer to you.”

I hold out my hand, matching his position and then close my eyes, reaching for that bowl of darkness again. Hesitantly, I tip it sideways, sloshing some of the dark liquid over the edge and imagine pulling it through my limbs. It makes my muscles spasm, my claws shooting out of my nail beds in defense.

“Breathe through it, you’ll pass out if you hold your breath.” 

Selfishly, I want to impress him. Want to show him I can. I want the reward of his lips on mine again. Want to not have to think about whether I should be doing this or that, the only thought in my head him and how good he feels. I do as he says, drawing in a breath as I keep pushing that bit of darkness in the direction I want it. It makes my head hurt, trying to focus so intently, but I’m nothing if not persistent. 

I feel the rumble of movement beneath my palm, and just when I’m starting to think that maybe I’m more capable than I thought, the tiniest, most wilted looking dandelion grows from my palm. And then immediately turns to ash. It’s the saddest excuse for power I’ve ever seen and I growl out a complaint like a literal beast as even the thing in my chest shows its disappointment.

Rhysand snorts out a laugh too, which makes it worse.

So much for powerful. 

He clears his throat as he steps back into my space. “It was a good attempt.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I hiss. “That was embarrassing.” 

He wraps his hand around my wrist and places his lips against my palm anyway, never mind that my claws are still out and drifting over his temple as he kisses right where my powers flared. “You still tried.”

I shiver at the contact of his plush lips against my skin, his breath warm against my palm. My senses are still incredibly heightened and even that bit of contact makes my skin buzz with excitement. 

He quirks a dark brow as he looks at me from where my hand is still pressed against his lips. “Try again for me?”

I nod, not trusting my voice when he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me. His pupils are blown wide, barely a ring of violet left to see. He keeps his lower lip between his perfect teeth as he watches me with an intensity that makes my thighs clench. 

Just like before, I imagine myself holding that bowl, this time, I draw a breath and tip it over, letting more of that strange darkness spill into the abyss that is my soul. It is strange to see it like this, to have some parts of it so clear and yet the rest of it is shrouded in fathomless depths. There might be anything living within the confines of my skin. I’d never bothered to look until now. 

I push it towards my fingertips, just as before. The same spasm in my muscles returns, a knot forming in my bicep that I do my best to ignore as I keep pushing my power towards my hand. I remind myself to breathe when it flares in my wrist, making my claws retract and pop back out. 

“Just like that,” Rhysand coaxes.

Cauldron his voice makes my insides feel like jelly. 

Crawling vines emerge one by one from beneath my palms, twining around my fingertips like tiny snakes. In the center sprouts another dandelion, a little taller than the last. I manage to hold it for all of five seconds before the knot in my bicep and wrist become too much and the vines and flower die together. My bones ache. How does he do this so easily?

“Better,” Rhysand praises as he places the next kiss on the inside of my wrist, his fingers massaging the knot forming there. 

“Is it supposed to hurt?” I grumble.

“It’s a process,” he murmurs into my skin, lips trailing higher, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “Think of it like building a muscle. The first couple days of using that muscle will hurt. You’ll be sore. But the more you build it, the stronger it becomes, and the less it hurts. Eventually, you’ll be able to perform bigger and bigger feats with less and less discomfort.” 

That sounds exhausting! 

I’m going to have to do this for the rest of my life? The thought sours my mood, once again turning my thoughts away from this lovely little distraction he’s been offering and back into the darkness that’s been threatening to overtake me all afternoon. 

I swear he can hear the thoughts spinning through my head as he suddenly nips at the tender flesh of the inside of my wrist. “You think you can give me one more?”

I have a headache just thinking about doing it again, but he keeps looking at me through those long lashes, the intensity in his gaze making all rational thought fly out the window. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promises, lips trailing higher. He’s so warm and intoxicating, I think he might be capable of making me do anything, as long as his lips remain on my skin.

I focus on that spot, paying extra attention to breathe as I reach for that imaginary bowl a third time. Maybe if I let myself relax, lean a little heavier into the warmth of his touch, and stop trying so hard to hold on so tight, it won't hurt so bad. It has been like fighting a tide all this time; if I relax, go with the wave, will that make it easier?

I imagine that darkness spilling from the bowl like water instead, letting it flow like a river. The path from my chest to my fingertips is kind of like a stream, right? The water bubbling and rushing through me. There must be something to that thought process, because, when I open my eyes, there are more vines twining around my fingers and wrist, but this time, tiny yellow and pink flowers bloom from them. There is nothing dead or angry crawling out from beneath my skin, but something beautiful and alive. My claws retract as the vines spin around my fingers.

I can’t help but grin as I look to Rhys for his approval. “I did it!”

He grins right back, the sight so dazzling I think I might just stand here for hours summoning flower after flower to see it again. “That’s my girl!”

Instinctively, spurred by the excitement rushing through my veins, I stretch up on my toes and place a quick kiss on his lips. “You’re a good teacher,” and I mean it. Whatever this is between us, I am grateful for him, even if this is all we have. “Thank you.”

He slides a hand in my hair and kisses me back. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I don’t know what it is I feel about it. It still feels wrong, or maybe it just feels different. Everything feels different these days, I’d rather not think too long about it. “Feels like I can breathe a little easier.” 

“Good.” He kisses me again. “We’ll practice some more tomorrow.”

I slide my hand into the silky strands of his hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp as he rests his forehead on mine. I won’t let myself think about tomorrow, or about these new powers. There can only be this moment.

“Just promise me,” he continues, “that you’ll keep trying?”

“I might need some convincing,” I return, clinging to this distraction with every last bit of willpower I possess.

He grins at the challenge. This is the best I can give him today; the closest to the truth I can admit without laying everything bare. 

“I can be very persuasive,” he purrs and the next thing I know I am on my back in what’s left of the grass, the solid weight of him on top of me. “Maybe we should work on some self-defense while we’re at it. That was alarmingly easy.”

“The words every girl wants to hear when she’s beneath a man,” I retort.

“I just want you to be safe, is all,” he says as he kisses the tip of my nose. 

I reach up a hand and brush some of the hair that’s falling over his forehead into his eyes out of the way. He is breathtakingly beautiful under the moonlight. I wish I could paint or sketch, immortalize every glorious sharp edge of him in ink and paper. “I’m with you, how can I not be safe?”

Cauldron boil me, I mean that too.

It’s not until later that night, long after I’d fallen apart on his tongue in that field and then tumbled back into camp, nearly asleep on my feet to nestle down against his warm body that I remembered I’d meant to ask him this morning why he’d still let me in after everything between us. By now I’m too exhausted to care; maybe I’ll find the courage to ask in the morning.

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