#Dominic Cork

[thekidsarentalright]

‼️ Attention Fob Fan Reading This ‼️

A few weeks ago, I posted the fourth annual fob census asking you all to answer a bunch of evil questions regarding fall out boy, and after getting 1.3k (!!!!!) responses, the results are finally in (below the 'keep reading'). I wanted to quickly say thank you to everybody who participated in this, it's so fun to do every year and it makes me so happy to see so many others enjoy it too!! Without further adieu, here are the results:

Disclaimers: Quickly I just wanted to warn that this is a long post- it's worth reading, the results are very interesting! But it's also a lot to get through, be prepared for that! Secondly, tumblr loves to destroy image quality- click on the image to see it better!

Question 1:

For the first question, you were simply asked what era you became a fan. The top 3 results were, as shown: 1. Save Rock And Roll Era (345 Responses) 2. American Beauty/American Psycho Era (268 Responses) 3. During The Hiatus (132 Responses) Not much to say about this one, every year the results are very similar. Most interesting is that over 100 people have become a fan in the last year!

Question 2:

The second question asked you for your favorite era, and the results were, as shown: 1. So Much (For) Stardust Era (550 Responses) 2. Infinity On High Era (191 Responses) 3. Save Rock And Roll Era (170 Responses) The impact of the newest era is clearly seen in this question! Some could say it's recency bias, only time will tell, but regardless smfs era absolutely dominates as peoples favorite!

Question 3:

Question three asked what your favorite album was, and this was one where I was incredibly interested to see if so much (for) stardust shook things up that much... And as shown in the top responses, it did not! 1. Folie A Deux (550 Responses) 2. Infinity On High (270 Responses) 3. From Under The Cork Tree (153 Responses) Last year, the order of the results was exactly the same. As I believe it has been every year... Folie is unbeatable

Question 4:

The next question asked for you to objectively say which fob album is the best, to see if the responses between favorite and best differed, and as you can see, they did: 1. So Much (For) Stardust (457 Responses) 2. Folie A Deux (389 Responses) 3. Infinity On High (297 Responses) It's so interesting to me to see that so many people believe stardust to be fob's best album, but even then do not consider it to be their favorite.

Question 5:

Now that we've gotten the favorite/best albums out of the way, it's time for least favorite/worst, with these being your least favorite fob albums: 1. Take This To Your Grave (375 Responses) 2. American Beauty/American Psycho (371 Responses) 3. Mania (308 Responses) Most interesting about these results, to me, are how much the top three responses sweep in comparison to the rest. While for the last two questions, the results were more spread, these are much more unanimous.

Question 6:

Question six asked for the objective worst fob album, and you responded as so: 1. Take This To Your Grave (517 Responses) 2. Mania (347 Responses) 3. American Beauty/American Psycho (328 Responses) All I have to add here is that the responses are even More unanimous... Tttyg sweep ig! fdjsnf

Question 7:

Going away from albums, the next question asked for your favorite EP, and you all responded as such: 1. Lake Effect Kid (404 Responses) 2. My Heart Will Always Be The B-Side To My Tongue (374 Responses) 3. Pax AM Days (337 Responses) Last year, lake effect kid was second and my heart was first- always very interesting to see how things shift, even slightly!

Question 8:

The next question had you saying your favorite album cover art, and you all decided these are the best covers: 1. Infinity On High (664 Responses) 2. Folie A Deux (195 Responses) 3. From Under The Cork Tree (176 Responses) I was very interesting to see where smfs would land, with it falling in the bottom half, not disrupting the top three at all. However, folie moved up a spot, swapping with futct. Ioh reigns supreme though!

Question 9:

These results came out identical to last year, but here are the top first fob songs you all heard: 1. Sugar, We're Goin' Down (347 Responses) 2. My Songs Know (171 Responses) 3. Dance, Dance (134 Responses) 4. Thnks Fr Th Mmrs (132 Responses) 5. Centuries (91 Responses)

Question 10:

Question 10 asked for your favorite fob song, a very subjective question that garnered many different responses, these came out on top: 1. Headfirst Slide (105 Responses) 2. Disloyal Order (73 Responses) 3. Hum Hallelujah (69 Responses)(nice) 4. Ginasfs (65 Responses) 5. 27 (55 Responses) I have many thoughts about these results and don't want to ramble too much, but will say, most interesting: This is the first time disloyal order isn't first for this question. A big change, I think!

Question 11:

We know now your subjective fav songs, but what about objective best? You all said: 1. So Much (For) Stardust (244 Responses) 2. Headfirst Slide (136 Responses) 3. Love From The Other Side (83 Responses) 4. What A Catch, Donnie (70 Responses) 5. Hum Hallelujah = Disloyal Order (66 Responses) Once again, lots of thoughts! We have our first tie, both smfs the song and album sweeping, and disloyal order once again Not topping the list! Huge changes!

Question 12:

This question is always the one i get the most excited about each year. It's also the one that gets the most varied responses, but these came out in the top: 1. Sunshine Riptide (56 Responses) 2. "From Now On We Are Enemies" (49 Responses) 3. You're Crashing, But You're No Wave (47 Responses) 4. Rat A Tat (40 Responses) 5. It's Not A Side Effect = Heaven's Gate This question changed a lot from last year, with sunshine riptide moving up three spots, and rat a tat, it's not a side effect, and heaven's gate showing up when they didn't before!

Question 13:

With underrated songs come overrated ones, and you all said these were the most overrated: 1. Centuries (330 Responses) 2. Sugar, We're Goin' Down (96 Responses) 3. My Songs Know (87 Responses) 4. Bang The Doldrums (67 Responses) 5. Immortals (62 Responses) Most of note- Bang the doldrums is here, when it simultaneously was voted pretty highly as a favorite song!

Question 14:

This was the first time I asked the question of what your favorite fob cover is, and you all decided these are the best three: 1. Love Will Tear Us Apart (297 Responses) 2. Beat It (278 Responses) 3. I Wanna Dance With Somebody (224)

Question 15:

Asking which song has the best lyrics is another one of my favorites to see, and this year you all said: 1. Hum Hallelujah (172 Responses) 2. So Much (For) Stardust (75 Responses) 3. You're Crashing, But You're No Wave (72 Responses) 4. Ginasfs (70 Responses) 5. Disloyal Order (67 Responses) It's not surprise these results are very similar to best song, and it's very deserved! These songs are on top every year, save for smfs being newly one of their best written songs!

Question 16:

This question asked how many times you've seen fob live, and the results are as shown: 1. 1-3 Times (780 Responses) 2. Haven't Seem Them Live Yet (353 Responses) 3. 4-6 Times (138 Responses) 4. 7-9 Times (42 Responses) 5. 10+ Times (37 Responses) Last year, a majority of people said they hadn't seen them live, so it makes me really happy to see now, a majority has! And i hope those that haven't get to soon!

Question 17:

Continuing with the tour theme, specific to this year, I asked what your favorite medley song was, and you all said: 1. Spotlight (New Regrets) (272 Responses) 2. I've Got A Dark Alley (165 Responses) 3. What A Catch, Donnie (146 Responses) 4. WAMS (133 Responses) 5. Get Busy Living (117 Responses) Seeing spotlight sweep made me happy, as it genuinely was the craziest moment. All of these were crazy, and so special- seeing each medley song get so much love just shows it <3

Question 18:

Now continuing with tourdust questions, I asked for your fav 8 ball song, here were your top 5: 1. Pavlove (372 Responses) 2. Ginasfs (184 Responses) 3. Bang The Doldrums (144 Responses) 4. "From Now On We Are Enemies" (80 Responses) 5. 27 (69 Responses) Similarly to before, each of these was so crazy and special, it's great to see they all got love. Pavlove swept massively, tho, as deserved i think

Question 19:

I think it goes without saying that each band member is loved and very important, but we all have our #1 babygirl, and here's who you all said was yours: 1. Patrick (676 Responses) 2. Pete (402 Responses) 3. Joe (160 Responses) 4. Andy (112 Responses) All i have to say is... kill that thing patrick <3

Question 20:

Our next miscellaneous question asks for your fav music video, and this year you all said these were your favorites: 1. A Little Less Sixteen Candles (275 Responses) 2. Dance, Dance (109 Responses) 3. Hold Me Like A Grudge (89 Responses) 4. America's Suitehearts = Miss Missing You (74 Responses) 5. I Don't Care (67 Responses) I was curious to see if a stardust mv would make it in, and was glad to see grudge did! Otherwise, very similar results to last year. Old favs die hard i suppose <3

Question 21:

Here, I asked for your favorite band that isn't fob but is related/adjacent to fob, and you all said: 1. My Chemical Romance (576 Responses) 2. Paramore (302 Responses) 3. I Don't Know How But They Found Me (88 Responses) 4. Cobra Starship = Green Day (75 Responses) 5. Gym Class Heroes (58 Responses) Not much changed from last year, other than green day getting more love, which is interesting to see! (Also, wanted to note that i did forget to include panic!... however less than 10 people wrote them in as an 'other', so results were not affected by that oversight!)

Question 22:

These last questions are all this or that style ones, with our first pairing being disloyal order and hum hallelujah: 1. Disloyal Order (762 Responses) 2. Hum Hallelujah (588 Responses) Interestingly, last year this match-up was a solid tie. Clearly, opinions have changed to make disloyal order sweep!

Question 23:

Our second this or that pit snitches and talkers vs you're crashing: 1. You're Crashing (808 Responses) 2. Snitches And Talkers (542 Responses) These were the top two underrated songs last year, so it's interesting to see which one is truly preferred!

Question 24:

Our last this or that, and last question, put centuries and my songs head to head: 1. My Songs Know (977 Responses) 2. Centuries (373 Responses) All the commentary I will provide is saying: is centuries even overrated anymore with it getting destroyed like this.... fkjdsnfks

And with that, the 2024 fob census comes to a close! If you've read this far or, really, participated at all in this in any way, I want to say thank you again! and that I hope you had fun with it, and that these results were interesting to look through! Also, will throw out there, I worked very hard on this and would appreciate a rb if you read all the way through it! <3 If you have any questions about any data or questions, want to see more in depth results or commentary or analysis from me, feel free to shoot me an ask/dm! See you next year for year 5! :-3

#writing these tags right after finishing making the whole post and oughfjf i always forget how much of a labor of love this is god #so so worth it though i love doing this <33 so glad u all do too #queueing this for sunday at noon hopefully it posts right fjdnfk #txt #census.txt #fall out boy #fob

[missbabyjay]

A Night Out - Pedro Pascal x F Reader

SMUT BABY SMUT

MASTERLIST - CHECK OUT MY PAGE FOR MORE!

I am so feral I don't know where this piece came from but I hope you all enjoy it lmao

Warnings/Content: Explicit, Smut, Domination, Rough, Unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy y'all), Age gap, Alcohol

Summary: You attend an event with Pedro to celebrate TLOU. When a stranger gets too close Pedro feels the need to show you that you're his, and only his.

Word Count: 2.6 K

I am taking requests <3

. . .

The sun was beginning to fade, letting you know your time was running short. You groaned, hesitating to begin getting ready. Doing your hair and makeup took effort that you couldn’t work up at the moment, and you didn’t even want to go out in the first place.

Pedro just finished filming, meaning there were many events for him to attend - for promo as well as celebration. You wanted to be a supportive girlfriend by attending the events with him, but you weren’t the going out type. You enjoyed staying in, cozying up in your housecoat with a cup of tea, of course, while you created your own reality through your passion for writing. You enjoyed being a homebody and so did Pedro at times, but things were different tonight. 

You finally pushed through the lack of motivation and found yourself propped up in front of the large mirror that resided in your washroom. You started with your hair, slicking it back into a tight, low bun. You followed by applying some light makeup - just enough to flatter your natural beauty. The event you were attending was formal, so you figured it would be fun to wear some jewellery that you didn’t typically reach for on a regular day. You grabbed a pair of long, dangly earrings. The diamonds shined as they were met with the bright lights of the bathroom. You struggled with a dainty necklace, but after a few tries you were able to open the clasp making you able to place it around your neck.

You were face to face with yourself in the mirror, analysing every feature. You felt a rush of confidence pour over you, and suddenly you felt excited to attend the party. You shimmied on your dress of choice - a short, all black, off the shoulder dress that hugged your curves oh, so perfectly. You paired the dress with some short heels and made your way to the kitchen. You were eager to see Pedro, knowing how weak his knees would become the second he saw you.

This was one of the first events you were attending with him since you began seeing each other. You felt your nerves rattle inside of you as you opened your liquor cabinet - “A drink should help,” you muttered to yourself. You grabbed the clear, stubby bottle of patron from the highest shelf, perched on your tippy toes. “Perfect”. You popped the cork off of the bottle and poured a generous serving into a low glass. You grabbed a few ice cubes from the fridge and popped them in the glass to mingle with the liquor. You thought about drinking it on the rocks for a second, as your nerves were bouncing off the walls, but maybe a mixer was in your best favour instead. 

The first sip graciously coated your throat, instantly calming your nerves. You were caught off guard when there was a pattern of knocks placed on your front door. “Pedro”, you lovingly said. You quickly downed the rest of your drink, hoping you wouldn’t regret that choice later on. The moment finally came; your clammy palms quickly grabbed for the cold door handle. Your face immediately became flushed as Pedro stood before you - he looked dashing. An all black suit covered him, tight enough that you could see his toned body popping through the sleeves. You couldn’t deny you felt yourself becoming heated in your sweet spot.

“Mi amor, you look so gorgeous,” he said in a husky tone, snapping you out of your daze. You blushed, as he reached his arm around your waist pulling you in to meet his soft, tender lips. You were expecting a friendly peck, but Pedro intensified the kiss while pulling you as close as he could possibly get you - yearning for the two of you to become one. His hand travelled to your ass, viciously gripping it, transferring a moan from your mouth to his. He finally pulled back, showing a cheeky grin after seeing the shocked look plastered across your face when you realised the two of you were practically standing in the hallway - visible to any passing neighbours. 

“C’mon sugar, we’ve gotta get going… the party started 20 minutes ago,” he said while rubbing the back of his neck. You giggled, hastily grabbing your purse and locking your front door. 

… 

The uber pulled to the curb in front of a condominium in Manhattan. When you exited the car your eyes followed up the tall, glistening building that towered over the street. “Wow,” you shockingly expressed. Pedro chuckled, “Here we are!” He gently grabbed your hand and led you towards the entrance. The party was far more glamorous than you had imagined - it was located on the rooftop of a high-class building. As you peered over the edge your eyes were met with the majestic skyline of New York City. The view was hypnotising. You weren’t from NYC originally, as you grew up in a small rural town, making this the first time you’ve seen a view like this. 

The party was crowded, you recognized a few faces; those who were a part of TLOU and others who were simply there to celebrate their successful friends. The warm summer night was paired with a light breeze causing enough goosebumps for you to nuzzle into Pedro. Eventually you parted ways making a trip to the open bar, “Props to whoever made this happen,” you mumbled as you set yourself up on a padded bar stool. You ordered a paloma, nice and simple for a beautiful summer night. You glanced around the party watching passionate conversations filled with laughter. You didn’t enjoy going out often but you enjoyed people watching - it soothes your soul.

You decided to enjoy your drink alone at the bar to give Pedro some time to catch up with his castmates. You caught a glimpse of Pedro and he sent you a little wink, making your cheeks heat up. You loved that man, and you especially loved how he wasn’t embarrassed to be in public with you. The two of you had a significant age gap, nothing worrying, but you figured most people would be judgy. Pedro felt the need to be your protector - he loved keeping you safe. 

As you were finishing up your drink you hopped off the stool and ordered another, alongside a beer to bring to Pedro. An arm wrapped around your waist making you jolt, as you turned your head you expected to see Pedro’s face but instead you met a stranger’ face, “Um- Can I help you?” you said as you removed yourself from the man’s hold. “What’s a pretty little girl like you doing at a party like this? I don’t see your face on any billboards,” he slurred, pushing a cocktail your way. You could smell the copious amounts of liquor he had obviously consumed. “I am here with my boyfriend. I appreciate the gesture but, no thank you,” you signalled “no” with your hand.

The man continued blabbering his mouth off until you were pulled aside - this time you knew it was Pedro. “Hey buddy, how about you leave my girlfriend alone,” Pedro’s voice filled with aggression while he tightly gripped you. “You’re the boyfriend? Pfft, yeah okay big shot,” the man said as he rolled his eyes and turned away from the two of you. Pedro’s grasp was still tight on you as he turned to you. “You okay, sugar?” his hot breath cascading across your neck, his grip still tight around your upper arm. He slipped his other arm around your waist pulling you close to him once again. Your eyes lingered between his chocolate brown eyes and his plush, pink lips. His arm travelled from your upper arm to your neck, keeping a tight grip around you.

You felt an intense ache begin between your legs, your cunt beginning to drip - moistening your tiny little panties. He came close to you once again, “I need you now,” he demanded. He forcefully led you towards the bathrooms, your knees instantly weakening making you struggle to keep up with Pedro. Typically this would not be your cup of tea, but these washrooms were elegantly decorated - pristine.

As soon as the two of you entered the small room Pedro locked the door. He viciously pushed you against the wall and began using his hands to explore your body. You were holding back moans in fear of anyone hearing while they passed the bathroom, although the party was rather loud. His hot, chiselled body was pressed tight against you, leaving no space between your chests. His hands travelled from your sides down to the bottom hem of your dress where he began to teasingly grip it, “I’m gonna show you that you’re mine, and only mine tonight,” he instructed while grazing his teeth against your neck. You could tell the incident from earlier made a wave of jealousy wash over him and you weren’t mad about it - you loved this side of him.

Your hands trailed upwards to his brown curls, twirling and gripping them between your fingers. Pedro moaned into your neck, he loved when you played with his hair. He finally lifted your dress, exposing your bottom half which was only covered with a lacy g-string. He growled as he looked down, raising his hand to grip your throat - his grip was even tighter than before. You gasped for air as he ran his pointer finger over your clothed pussy, feeling the wetness that had already accumulated, “already?” he tsked, as he pushed your panties to the side. His finger gently traced your folds, teasing you every second. “My hands look so good around you, mi amor” he hissed into the air. 

You couldn’t contain yourself as he held you by your throat and toyed with your sweet spot. You were loving every second of him dominating you; you loved Pedro’s sweetness but his roughness was your favourite. You were shocked when Pedro ripped off your panties in one swift motion, leaving a somewhat burning feeling against your skin - you enjoyed it. “Did that hurt?” he genuinely asked, “No,” you moaned out. No matter how rough Pedro was with you he always checked in on you, he was so sweet.

As you grasped at his shoulders to help keep you stable he inserted one single finger inside of you, slowly teasing away causing you to ache even more for him. “Fuck”, you let out hoarsly. Pedro smirked, “Such a little slut,” he taunted before quickly adding another finger. You felt your knees buckle beneath you as you ran out of energy to keep yourself standing. Pedro removed his fingers causing you to let out a disappointed moan. He lowered himself and placed your right leg over his shoulder. Your breath hitched as he looked at you from below, gliding his lips across your dripping core. You squirmed, causing Pedro to grip at your hips forcefully making you stay still - or at least attempting to. 

His tongue began to lap away at your folds, teasing your aching bud every once and a while until he decided to move his focus there. Your eyes squeezed shut as he circled his tongue around your sensitive area, causing a knot to start forming deep within your lower stomach. Your hips began to jerk against Pedro’s face, longing for more friction as you chased your orgasm. Pedro quickened the pace of his tongue, driving you to an out of body experience as your muscles tensed and you reached your high. 

Your skin tingled as you attempted to catch your breath, but Pedro didn’t give you a chance as he stood up and stuck the two fingers that he pleased you with into your mouth, forcing you to indulge in the taste of yourself. “Good girl,” he said as he removed your fingers and licked them himself, “you taste so good,” he praised. “Up,” he demanded as he signalled for you to jump, wrapping your legs around his waist as he gripped your ass. He led you to the counter and placed himself in between your wet thighs. You wondered where your underwear were for a second before Pedro pulled them from his pocket, “Gotta keep you quiet for this,” he purred as he smirked at you. Suddenly Pedro placed your dainty panties within your mouth, “Holy shit,” you thought to yourself as you nearly melted into a pile of nothing.

Pedro unbuttoned his clothing above his waist leaving his soft tanned skin exposed. You ran your fingers from his pecks to his waistline, swiftly helping him remove his belt. He pulled his pants as well as his boxers down just enough to expose his aching cock. You spared no time and took him into your hands, slowly massaging him as his head tilted downwards. He let out an animalistic growl, removing your hands and giving himself a few pumps before he lined himself up with your soaking wet core. He slid the tip of his cock in between your folds a few times; moistening himself with your sweet liquids. His eyes met yours and he filled you in one easy motion. You bit down on your panties, gripping the sides of the counter you sat upon. Pedro was generous, giving a few slow thrusts before he hastily picked up the speed of his movements. He gripped your hips allowing him to have more control of how your bodies moved together. You looked down to watch his cock disappearing inside of you, causing your eyes to roll as he hit the perfect spot. 

The sounds of your bare skin making contact filled the room and you felt overwhelmed with pleasure. Pedro grasped the back of your head bringing his forehead to yours, not once breaking eye contact as he mercilessly pounded your pussy. “Come for me again, sugar,” he demanded. He gripped your ass and slightly lifted you off the counter, allowing him to pull your bottom half closer to him every time he thrusted into you. Your arms held yourself up on the counter as you felt the rush of warmth reach your lower stomach once again causing you to lose all composure. You reached your climax causing you to scream out, thankfully the panties muffled it - slightly. 

You attempted to collect yourself as you came down, feeling Pedro’s thrusts becoming sloppier. You bit your lip while you stared him down knowing your eyes made him crazy, “Fuck baby, I-I’m gonna fill you up,” he stuttered, struggling to get his words out as he too was quick to reaching his high. “Come for me, daddy,” you purred, causing Pedro to send you a devilish smirk before he was pushed over the edge, closing his eyes as he threw his head backwards.

He remained in you for a moment while the both of you caught your breath. You removed your panties, “Damn baby”, you exclaimed. Pedro giggled at your reaction. He pulled out of you, allowing you to hop off the counter so you could clean yourself up. He placed a kiss on your temple, while the two of you readjusted yourselves, trying to fix your hair and makeup so nothing looked too off. “You are so good, princesa,” he cooed to you as he pulled you into a loving embrace, “I’m so lucky you’re mine”. You tighten your arms around his waist, placing a kiss on his chest.

You patted down your dress and slightly fixed your hair as Pedro peeked his head out of the door to see if the coast was clear. “We’re good to go,” he reached for your hand - intertwining your fingers with his. The two of you made your way to the bar, most definitely needing some hydration after that.

Tags: @purplerain85

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #daddy pedro #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fic

[yanderestarangel]

Could I request a Dark Raiden with a FTM reader with breeding and possessive sex?

TW ┆degradation, sexual punishment, porn plot, ftm reader, afab anatomy, breedkink, possessive sex, jealousy, objectification, pain kink.

"Are you really such a pathetic boy that you don't learn your place?" Raiden's words sent shocks down your spine, making you moan softly as he pulled your hair and made you look at him ── his red eyes burned into your being as you felt the anger in his tone of voice... You really had crossed the line that time, no excuse would be good enough to free you from his wrath.

"Sitting on my own brother's lap... Fujin was practically devouring you with his eyes and you loved that attention, didn't you? Are you such a needy slut?" He hissed again as his large hands went around your neck and threw you onto the soft mattress, cushioning the brute impact.

You saw the god of thunder advance against you quickly and kiss you with carelessness and brutality, his hot tongue fought and dominated yours for control; his right hand came across the fabric of your shorts and ripped it, exposing your already wet pussy to him ── a strong slap was felt by you when he hit the soft flesh of your cunt and left it red, a sign of dominance and anger... That was just the beginning.

"Open those legs for me like the cheap whore you are, boy, I'm really going to teach you how to be a good boy today... I'm sick of your brattiness." With a swift motion, he drove into you, consuming every inch of your tight hole in one powerful stroke. You gasped, eyes widening in surprise at the intensity of his invasion. The god of thunder began to fuck you roughly, his shaft sliding in and out of your warm depths, claiming your body as his own again.

"Take it, boy. Take every inch of my cock and remember who owns this pretty little body of yours," he demanded, the intensity of his penetration sent waves of pleasure and pain coursing through your entire being making you shed fat tears down your cheeks and cling to his larger body in an attempt to keep a grip on yourself, in vain obviously, the cork in your stomach threatening to burst at any moment in time to the rhythm of your older lover's rough thrusts.

"That's what dumb, pretty boys like you deserve... I'm going to breed your little pussy... You're going to be filled with my seed and carry my children, aren't you? You can do this for me, can't you? He growled as his hips were slamming violently against your body, you were in a submissive position and all you could do was enjoy and respond to his commands like the good boy you were ─ moaning his name and opening your legs even more to expose your sore hole, his fingers came across your clitoris and small rays came out of the tips of his fingers leaving your clit more sore and overstimulated while the sadistic smile spread across Raiden's face at that moment.

"Oh... What a cute little cock you have here, dumb boy, do you want to cum already... I haven't even filled your pussy yet, baby boy." He teased you while he was referring to your sore and swollen clit, massaging your sensitive spot while his dick directly hit your cervix, making you milk his cock and tremble, your ears went deaf from the intensity of the orgasm and your muscles tensed ─ and even with the overwhelming sensations you felt the hot and sticky sensation of Raiden's cum filling your wet hole, making you whimper even more.

He practically filled you to the brim, making your stomach bulge slightly as he pulled out of you and watched your pussy spill his semen out, smiling satisfied.

"We're not done here, boy... You're not leaving this room until you become the adorable father of my children, right?

#yanderestarangel #afab reader #tw smut #mortal kombat #mortal kombat fandom #mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #mk1 #ftm reader #mk11 x reader #mk11 raiden #mk11 smut #raiden mk11 #mortal kombat x ftm reader #mortal kombat x male reader #male reader x male character #male smut #male reader #ftm!reader #raiden x male reader #dark raiden x ftm reader #dark raiden x reader #dark raiden x male reader #dark raiden #dark smut #mk11 #mortal kombat 11 #raiden smut #raiden x ftm reader

[shewrites444]

earned it [thomas shelby x mafia/dominant reader smut]

word count - 3k

[ summary - the reader, the current head of the sicilian mob, meets with thomas shelby to discuss an issue that intervenes with both of their organizations. despite their mutual disliking for one another, thomas takes an interest to the business woman before him, and doesn’t seem to realize how powerful she may be. ]

[ warnings - mentions of violence, strong cursing, dirty talk, dominant female, oral (f & m), praise kink, unprotected sex ]

-

“and if we get ‘rid’ of him and his members, how are we going to go about that?” thomas shelby asked me from across the obnoxiously long dining table, lighting a cigarette and sinking into his chair.

i shrug nonchalantly, resting my arms against the table as i chew the steak his supposed aunt polly cooked for us. we’d be discussing this matter for so long my food was starting to get cold.

“we can handle that, all i ask is for you and your family to do the talking. get them out of birmingham and into italy. i know it’s a far stretch, but we can make it work. when someone is offered a lot of money, they’ll travel. the last thing their organization wants is no protection. i think they’d trust the mob’s word over a group of drunken, horse-betting brothers.”

thomas scoffed, moderately offended but also carrying a tone of impressment, taking a sip of his whiskey and gesturing the glass towards me. “you italians have a mouth on you, eh? you crawl around europe like the coppers, thinking you own the cities, only you’re not afraid to take out your guns, hm, mrs. [y/n].”

“i’m not married.” i mutter, once again taking the steak knife in my hand as i begin to cut the tender meat.

he quirked his brow, setting his glass down. “my mistake. i assumed that a woman who ran one of the most dangerous gangs in italy was wedded. i should’ve looked at your ring finger before i commented, miss [y/n].”

“we’re not here to discuss my marriage status, mr. shelby. this group of communists pose a real threat to both of our families. i can get back in my carriage right now and send my men in here to shoot you in the fucking head for all i care, if you don’t cooperate, or we can get back to information that actually matters, and your life goes on.” i look him in the eyes, a blank expression on my face.

he stood up, walking over to the bar cart and pouring himself more whiskey, taking another glass and filling it with a new bottle of red wine after popping the cork. he set it beside my plate, pulling out the chair next to me and sitting down.

“you can get pissed off all you want, dear, but i’m the one with a gun in my pocket. i could kill you, and your men, in a matter of seconds, so don’t think your words even draw a nick of blood on me.” he threatened, sipping his drink, enough to nearly empty the glass. “we can agree to disagree all night, or you can change your temper and we can figure out a neutral solution for the both of us.”

i chew my steak, watching him speak with a smirk on my redly tainted lips. i take the glass of wine and drink it slowly. “you are quite charming, mr. shelby. it almost offends me that you think i walked into your home unarmed, too.” i take my napkin and dab it on my lips before standing up, dusting off my black dress. “do as i say, and get them to italy. we can discuss the specifics after you speak to their leader. walk me to my carriage, won’t you?”

thomas stands up, pushing both of our chairs in before walking me to the back doorway, his whiskey glass still in hand, only a few ice cubes left inside and not even a shot’s worth of alcohol. i glance down at the purse in my hand, looking through to find my lipstick, confused if i had dropped it when i stood up from the table. i sigh, looking up to the peaky blinder who stood before me as he opened the door for me.

“give me one minute, i think i dropped my lipstick by my chair.” i set my purse down on the table aside their coat rack and walk back to the dining room, hearing his footsteps trail behind as he followed.

i lean down, seeing the lipstick on the floor and pick it up, turning around to bump into thomas, our faces not even two inches apart as he lightly pushed me against the table.

i roll my eyes, both hands planting against his chest and pushing him off. “i don’t think me saying i was unmarried was a suggestion, mr. shelby. not every woman becomes a whore when you have them over for dinner.”

“do you ever freely sleep around, miss [y/n]?” thomas asks, looking down to meet my eyes, then averting to my lips. “surely, a woman like you, can get whoever she wants. you run apart of the bloody world, for what it’s worth. do you ever fuck anyone on your level? someone as powerful as you are?”

“that’s none of your concern.” i say, glancing down at the light erection that was intruding his black slacks. “although, i definitely don’t fuck men that rudely come onto me when i make it clear i came over for strictly business.”

he grinned, one of his hands gently sliding onto my back, the other setting the glass on the table, one ice cube sliding onto his fingertips. he pressed it against my collarbone, sliding it down my skin softly.

“oh, but you definitely do. i think this says otherwise, don’t you think?” thomas tilts his head teasingly, gesturing to my hardening nipples as they protruded my dress.

i blush, shaking my head in disbelief. “you have a cold substance near my chest, that’s a natural reaction.”

“it’s not even near them, dear. i’m still pressing on your shoulder. it’s not a bad thing to admit you like this, miss [y/n].” he slides the ice cube further down my chest, his pinkie pushing my dress back, the v-neck fabric tucking itself underneath my right breast through his manipulation. he slid the substance over my nipple, causing me to sigh heavily. he couldn’t help but grin at my reaction.

thomas leaned down, dropping the ice cube back into the glass and licking my erect nipple, sucking lightly on the bud before pushing me against the table and sitting me down. i moan softly, looking up at the ceiling, my body now in a heat at his teasing touch.

“i think you choose not to fuck. from what it seems like, it may be a distraction for you. you’re a busy woman. perhaps there is no time for any sort of play.” thomas says, reaching over to expose my other breast. “you really don’t let anyone in, even physically. you and i, miss [y/n], are probably more alike than you realize.”

“don’t even try convincing me of that. i know you fuck, mr. shelby.”

“oh, really? you know that, how? because of how wet i already have you?” he asks, reaching his hand down and into my knee-length dress, pressing his fingers against my warm panties.

i hold my mouth shut, breathing heavily through my nose as he pushes the fabric to the side, lightly tracing his fingers against my wet folds.

“a woman like you wouldn’t like to be fucked like a whore, though. you expect much more than that. you’d like to be praised, as if you were a crown jewel in terms of your status. you’re someone who is clearly unfazed by most men, i can see that. you don’t give a fuck about them unless they worship you.”

“do you think you could possibly do that, mr. shelby? worship a woman?”

“not just any woman, no.” he begins, reaching his arm across my waist, snaking it around me to pull me up and into his chest, where he held me up and guided me to the bedroom next to the dining room. “it takes someone who knows who they are and what they can do to make me feel like they even deserve that type of treatment.”

he helped pull my dress off, leaving me in only my panties as he set me on the bed. i chose to oblige, partially due to the pleasure he was sinking me into, but also because i found it interesting he thought he would even have full control over the situation. thomas was right about me choosing to not fuck, but that didn't mean i fell at the feet of a man who knew what he was doing. thomas shelby was a powerful man, sure, but he could never climb the ladder high enough to reach my level.

“but you, you know what you can do. you do what has to be done, miss [y/n]. you threatened to put a gun to my head, what kind of woman does that? a fucking powerful one.” thomas nearly moans at his own words, leaning down to kiss me before he began to undress.

i return the kiss, my legs still shut, as thomas began to unbutton his shirt, glancing down at my waiting body. he undressed himself fully, standing naked before me as he climbed into the bed and leaned down on his knees, sliding off my underwear and tossing them to the floor.

he hovered above me, planting a passionate kiss against my lips, leaving red residue from my lipstick on his own lips while he slid his tongue into my mouth. i feel his fingers slide inside of me, my legs spreading in reaction as he began to finger me. his lips trailed from my neck to my breasts, sucking my nipples back and forth as he pumped his fingers in and out of my pussy.

i close my eyes, my mouth hung open as i moan in pleasure from his touch. i could feel his eyes on me, watching nothing but my expression. the mental part of me hated giving into thomas shelby’s advances, but the physical side of me could care less. he knew what he was doing, it seemed like, but frankly, so did i.

“oh, you’re so fucking wet, love. you’re practically dripping onto my fingers, onto my bed..” thomas cooes, pulling himself out of me and into his mouth, licking my juices. “and you taste just as good as i imagined. how did i get so lucky to touch you?”

i lightly sit up, leaning over to pull him back into a kiss as i climb off the bed, thomas now sitting at the edge. i get on my knees and take his cock into my hand, spitting on his tip and beginning to lick his cock, up and down, pressing light kisses against his skin as he watched, his expression showing nothing but lust, as he grinned from cheek to cheek at my actions.

“fuck,” he mutters, resting his hands on the bed. “you look beautiful when you play with my cock, love.” he moans as i slide him into my mouth and down my throat, still looking up to meet his eyes. he reaches over to hold my chin in one hand, gently guiding my head up and down. “that’s it, please keep taking my cock. you’re so pretty when you do so, love. i can’t wait to fuck you, you’ve got me nearly finishing at the thought of it.”

i pump him inside of my throat, feeling his orgasm nearly reach the surface as he groans at the build up of it all. i pull away, taking his length in one hand as he cums onto my face, his seed coating all over my mouth and cheeks.

“oh, fuck, you look so fucking good, [y/n]. your mouth felt so fucking good.” thomas praises, watching as i lean back, tracing my finger across my cheeks, licking his cum off and into my mouth. he stares in awe, reaching his hands over to help me stand up and get back onto the bed. he presses a hard kiss against my lips, laying back down as i lay on top of him.

“i don’t think you understand this, thomas.” i smirk, cupping his face with both of my hands. “you don’t just get to fuck me, you know that, right? you have to earn it. i’m the motherfucking leader of a mob, after all. i don’t fuck just anyone, not even thomas shelby, no matter how good you may be at fucking.”

he tilted his head, grabbing me by the hips and pulling me back down. “is that so? your cunt is practically begging for me to fuck it. we don’t have to play this game, love. please, let me touch you further.”

i roll over and out of his grip, laying down next to him and spreading my legs, gesturing for him to get in front of me. “then fuck me with your tongue, and we’ll see what i think of anything further than that.”

he chuckles, seemingly surprised by how bossy i could be, but leaned down anyway, adjusting himself to wrap his arms around my thighs, his face stuffed between them as his tongue attached to my clit, flicking the bud of sensitive flesh. i moan softly, watching thomas lick between my folds and back up to my clit, back and forth, which only drew a pit in my stomach, as my orgasm slowly began to build. i was more surprised by his efforts more than his experience. of course thomas shelby knew how to fully pleasure a woman when she demanded it.

“fuck, thomas..” i moan softly, reaching down to hold his black hair with one hand. “just like that, baby, and you’ll be fucking me so soon. god, that feels good.”

he quickens his pace a bit, my back gently arching up in reaction to his action, my free hand gripping the white bedsheets as he helped me very quickly reach my orgasm, my fluids releasing onto the sheets and his lips. i dripped down his chin but he didn’t seem to care, taking me by the hips and moving one leg on top of his shoulder, sliding his hard length inside of me with one slow stroke, both of us moaning at the sudden stimulation.

“oh, fucking hell, [y/n], my god, dear, you’re so fucking wet, you feel so good, fuck,” thomas groans, leaning down to kiss me, his free hand taking my breast into his his palm and squeezing harshly, earning a moan from me into his mouth as our tongues fight for dominance.

i pull away from the kiss, looking down to watch him pump his thick, wet cock into my pussy. my tits bounce at his thrusts, my core feeling every single touch. thomas held my ankle to keep my leg up, his other hand pulling away from my breast and down to my hips, holding the side of my waist to further his steady grip.

“you take my cock so well, [y/n].” thomas compliments, glancing down to meet my eyes as i look away from our bodies. “i could watch you forever, fuck. the way you look right now is absolutely stunning, no one can ever fucking compare to your cunt.”

i lean up slightly, resting on my elbows, grinning at thomas as he fucks me. “you really think so, thomas? then why don’t you fuck me harder? make me cum again, baby, i want to so badly. make me cum with you.”

“if you want me to fuck you harder, [y/n], you’re going to have to turn around for me.” thomas suggests, lightly pulling himself out of me and also wiping the sweat from his forehead, assisting me as i turn around, all fours against the bed as i arch my ass up, feeling tommy’s hands play with it by squeezing the flesh and slapping it lightly.

“you’re perfect from behind too, fuck. is there anything about you i can dislike? you italians may have bloody mouth, but you take me so well in yours, love.” he says, pushing himself back inside of me.

he holds me by the hips, starting to fuck me, but much harder than before. our skin slaps together as he pushes himself in much deeper, so much so that i was gasping at his touch, grabbing the sheets and holding them as hard as i could, despite the sweat that was collecting on my palms.

“f-fucking hell, tommy..” i moan into the sheets, my head resting against the pillow. “you fuck me so good, baby, keep going like that, fuck! fucking fill me up, tommy, fuck!”

he leans down to grab my neck, pounding inside of my walls before our moans begin to sync, our orgasms releasing a matter of seconds after as we finish together, his warm seed filling my insides and my own cum dripping from between us, tricking down my now shaking legs.

thomas pulls out of me, turning me over to lay beside him. he wraps one arm around me, but glances down to meet my eyes, and kisses me tiredly.

“next time, you’re going to be the one begging me to fuck you.” he says in a more demanding tone, a small smirk on his lips. “i don’t like to ask nicely.”

i sigh, rolling over onto my stomach so i could face him completely. “then you’re fucking the wrong woman, thomas.”

he shook his head, cupping my cheek and kissing me once more. “oh, believe me, i think i’m with the exact woman i need to be fucking.” he sits up, rolling out of the bed and to the dresser, grabbing a pair of underwear.

“let’s discuss this communist issue one more time, work out the details.” he says, slipping his boxers on. “and if we come to an agreement tonight, i’ll ask nicely again in the morning, unless you need to get back to your people?"

i stand up, picking up my underwear and sliding them on, as thomas hands me a larger white shirt to put on. “i think i’d rather you ask again tonight, mr. shelby. my people can wait overnight if it's for a good cause.” i tease, opening the bedroom door before walking back out to the dining room table, grabbing the half-empty glass of wine and taking it down in one sip.

thomas stands behind me, taking the empty glass and setting it back on the table, pressing himself up against me, placing his palm on my back to push me down on the furniture. "let's push our meeting back a few more minutes then. here's me asking, miss [y/n]."

he begins to kiss my neck and i reach between my legs, pushing my panties to the side as i hear his boxers hit the floor. this was going to be an unexpectedly long night.

#smut writing #fanfic #x yn #x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #thomas shelby x reader smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby peaky blinders #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine

[petrapalerno]

Submitting to the Alien Barbarian #6

Surprise--Double chapters today! Also a tiny bit of housekeeping, I've changed the alien's skin from blue to purple. Chapters have been changed retroactively to support this.  XOXO, Petra

Alien x fem reader, a dom/sub erotic short.

TW/CW: rough consensual sex, primal play, knotting, breeding, aliens, dominance/submission, blood play, spanking, breath play, and violence.

MASTER POST

PREVIOUS

You really didn’t put up much of a fight for the whole ‘mated to Drohako’ thing, and the alien barbarian almost gives you time to reconsider yourself between orgasms...But maybe it’s for the best you’re not overthinking this one too much.

Currently, you’re having trouble forming any thoughts as your alien barbarian mate won’t stop eating you out.

You grab a set of his horns and pull, with all your might, to get him to release your super sensitive clit from between his lips.

Your hips press into the ground as you do everything you can to escape his attentions.

But Drohako’s tongue doesn’t stop, and his fingers push his dripping seed back into your pussy as he does.

Even though his knot released what feels like hours ago, he won’t let you find any rest.

“So wasteful of my seed, little human,” he growls into the apex of your thighs. “Don’t you fucking dare let a drop leave your cunt!”

Once he’s scooped the spilled cum from your thighs and plugged it back up into you, he puts two knuckles at your entrance like a cork.

“Drohako, I’ve got to be more cum than water at this point!” You yelp as his tongue laps firm circles all round your swollen clit.

“Don’t care, shut up now, human. Be good for once,” he mutters before resuming his sucking.

Another orgasm? You can’t let that happen again. There has to be a limit to how many orgasms the human body can handle, right? What if this is the one that makes your heart give out?

When you realize that trying to pry him off you by the horns isn’t working, you shove your hands down as a barrier between your oversensitive flesh and your alien mate’s tongue.

He growls, letting one of his sharp teeth break the skin of your knuckle before gathering your wrists easily in his massive palm. He pins your hands above your head and continues to feast on you ravenously.

“Drohako, st-stop. It’s too much,” you whine as your nerves are firing so aggressively you’re afraid your brain might short circuit.

“Stop? You were so eager to come just a few minutes ago. I’m just giving you what you want. If the pleasure is too much, consider it a consequence of your own actions,” Drohako pops his head up and snarls at you before diving back down.

It’s like you're running a marathon, but actively attempting to avoid the finish line. You’re exhausted. The muscles in your core are burning from overuse. Your pussy is probably still gaping from his knot, and your entrance stings where his knuckles plug you up.

You can’t come again, you don’t have it in you.

At least that's what you tell yourself as you feel your muscles coil and tighten.

“I—I—I can’t,” you sob with each agonizing pulse.

“Be a good fucking girl,” he growls, pushing your thigh down as it attempts to snap closed over his head.

“Be a good girl and I’ll reward you. Listen to your mate.”

He speaks as if you could stop the freight train of an orgasm that crashes into you.

Instead of the usual enjoyable clenching feeling, your body shakes uncontrollably.

Your eyes roll back as he presses his tongue against you, undulating as some kind of agonizing pleasure rips over your body.

The noises coming from your mouth sound like an injured animal and you’re not sure if you’ve squirted or wet yourself.

Do you even care? It seems like an unimportant detail. You’ve already lost control of your motor skills.

You can’t even remember your own name as Drohako slows his pace. The furious licking of before is replaced by him running his tongue over your outer lips, just skirting the sensitive and swollen flesh of your privates.

Are your eyes shut or open? The only thing in your field of vision is blackness.

You’re still twitching when he gathers you up in his arms. He lays you on some soft platform, and you can hear the sloshing of water.

Starting at your brow, Drohako swipes a wet cloth down your face. Your sight slowly comes back into focus, as you see purple hands wringing out red water into the bowl. Slowly and methodically, he wipes the dirt and sweat from your skin. The hours you’ve spent fucking on the cave floor have tinged your skin crimson, similar to this planet’s red earth.

He wets it again and drags it over your tits and torso. You stiffen as his hands dip, expecting him to wash your still throbbing pussy. He pauses at your body’s reaction.

“Calm down human, my tongue cleaned there enough,” he says unusually softly.

“Oh, okay,” you croak out a little awkwardly.

The cloth drags down the outside of your hips and to your bare feet. You try to tug your foot back as it tickles when he moves the cloth between your toes.

“Stillness, please,” Drohako asks with exasperation more than anger.

“Sorry,” you tell him, too spent to brat any further.

When he walks away, you’re wondering what’s next. Will you finally sleep? Will he drag you into the healing spring and try to get you back into fucking shape?

Do you dare ask him for rest?

When he comes back, he has a bowl that looks like it was cut from some kind of dried gourd. He dips his fingers in and scoops out a thick and goopy substance.

You push up onto your elbows, groaning as you do, the occasional shake still wracking your body at random intervals.

“What’s that?” you ask suspiciously.

“Rendered kurthari fat, with herbs,” he says plainly as he warms it between his palms. You can smell the sweet plants as the oils release with the friction of his hands.

“And what exactly are you planning to do with it?” You arch a brow, unsure of where this is going.

“Your reward, as long as you keep behaving,” a hint of a smile cracks his face.

You can’t go again…and why the fuck does he think he’s going to need lube now if he’s found it unnecessary for his enormous cocks before?

“Drohako, I really can’t fuck. I’m spent—“

“Lie on your stomach, human.” He says, rolling his eyes with annoyance.

“I’m serious, you’ll hurt me if we go much longer,” You get a panicky edge to your voice.

As he listens to you, his face softens.

“I will not fuck you. Calm down. Remember, if you listen to your mate, you will be rewarded.” He speaks soft and low. The usual spark of viciousness is gone from his eyes.

“Promise?” You ask him, only a little desperate.

“Lie down and be quiet,” he whispers, putting his slick hands on your hips and turning you over.

Your face buries into a pile of furs, and you realize for the first time that he’s placed you into some large curtained bed.

“You have a bed and we’ve been fucking on the floor all day?” You bark at him, shocked at the revelation.

“You seem to enjoy being fucked into the dirt.”

Well, he’s probably not wrong.

When his hands grab the meat of your ass, you tense. You can’t help it.

“Drohako, please,” you whisper, hoping that whatever he has planned won’t break you.

His fingers dig deep into one of your hip joints, like he’s searching your muscles for something.

“What are you doing?” You swivel your head to get a better view.

He doesn’t answer you, but lets his fingers glide over your flesh until he finds a spot of tension. His palm presses and kneads a knot in your glute. The pressure is slightly painful, but in a way where you know your body will thank him later.

“…are you massaging me?” You ask in disbelief.

“Humans must be quite an advanced species to decipher such mysteries,” he scoffs sarcastically before moving to your other hip.

“I just thought that you were going to, I don’t know—ugh,” you grunt as he gets deeply into a ball of muscle.

“You thought I would rape you?” He says coldly.

“I, I mean…”

“I’d fall upon my blade first,” he says as he moves to the small of your back. “It’s my job to protect my mate and to ensure you’re safe and happy to carry our young. Don’t you dare imply I’d ever do that again.”

His hands move to your neck, and you groan as he pushes the bones of your shoulder blades aside to press the tips of his fingers deeper into the joint.

“But what—fuck oh my god that feels good—what if…” You trail off as his fingers release what feels like a lifetime of tension.

“What if what?” He asks, picking up your suddenly much more pliable body and tucking it against his as he sits on the bed. His oily palms cups both of your breasts.

“Hey, you said no sex!”

“How is holding your udders sex?” He asks you.

“One, please never use that word again, and two…I mean, touching usually leads to sex.” You tell him, appalled at his choice in words.

“Don’t be stupid,” He says as he lifts your heavy breasts up, instantly taking tension off your back. “Breathe, deep breaths,” he instructs.

You almost protest, but the sensation of filling your lungs unencumbered by the weight of your tits is a weirdly amazing feeling.

“In through your nose and out through your mouth,” he whispers into your ear, cupping and supporting you in a way you only wish a bra could. “Good girl,” he tells you as you relax back into his chest.

“What if I need you to stop? What if it’s actually too much?” You keep breathing, closing your eyes as you focus on the rise and fall of his chest.

“Trust me, I won’t hurt you anymore more than you want me to,” he whispers.

“Can we have a safe word?” You ask cautiously.

“I do not know this term. What makes a word safe?”

“It’s a word that we don’t use in regular conversation. That if one of us says it during our time together, we stop. No questions asked.”

He hums a little in your ear, as if he’s considering the option.

“If it makes you feel secure, I will do this,” he tells you as he releases your breast. His finger tips move to work the tissue near your armpit, making you wince.

“It would,” You grit through the pain. “You can use it too, if you need to,” you tell him.

Drohako laughs with his entire chest, shaking you in the process. “Very funny, human! What word would you like to choose?”

You think for a moment, and the perfect word flies into your mind.

“Udder, you’re not allowed to say it unless something is too painful or too intense. Sound good?” You smile, pleased to have all but eradicated that word from his vocabulary.

“But then what will I call these?” He asks, sliding slick hands over your nipples.

“Breasts, tits, boobs, fun bags, literally anything else,”

“Fine,” he seems disappointed. “If you say ‘udders’ I will stop, no questions asked.”

“Thank you,” you tell him, tilting your head back to meet his golden gaze.

“It’s a simple request. Do not make a bigger deal of it than it is, human,” he brushes off the gesture and moves his hands to your thighs, sliding more of the sweet smelling fat down your sore legs.

NEXT

#monster fucker #monster fuqqer #monster smut #monsterfuqqer #monster romance #monster lover #smut #terato #aliens #i love aliens #alien romance #alien x reader #alien x human #alien #Petra palerno #STTABshort

[xodarling]

My little Bronya. - xodarling

includes: NON-CON, kidnapping, yandere!reader, obsession, stalking, g!p reader, sub!bronya, knife play, cocolia’s alive and well, masturbation, lowercase writing, riding, infantilization kinda, breeding kink, throat fucking, praise, impregnation, virgin!bronya

a/n: bobby’s back 👹 (and worse than b4 sorry if it feels rushed)

“ah.. ah..”

loud squelching sounds bounce off the walls of this dark and dusty basement, there are cobwebs on every corner of the room and the air in the room is heavy, making it feel like you were suffocating every time you inhaled.

those wet, sticky sounds get faster and faster, with each squelch another loud pant vibrates throughout the room. the sound of chair legs scraping the concrete ground are deafening along with the a very specific sound.

click!

small clicking sounds emanating through the room, then it stops and is replaced by a loud groan and even faster squelching.

“bronya.. bronya..”

a shaky voice repeats like a prayer, long shaky groans fill up the emptiness of the room. the dark room being lit up slightly by the brightness of a camera.

the camera roll gives the dark, dusty, and heavy basement some brightness. the basement was mostly empty except for a cork board on one side of the room, all the pictures are of the same person, bronya. the camera isn’t any different, the photos saved in the camera are all bronya.

“fuck!”

the sounds of a loud and desperate yelp, the chair pushed back a little and a loud slam of the wooden table all echo throughout the room.

the camera screen gets dirtied by the thick spurts of cum, the sounds of somebody bucking their hips against the wooden table echos throughout the basement, the sounds of grunts and groans get replaced by pants and sighs.

the sound of a tissue being pulled out the tissue box echo again, some tired pants also vibrate through the dusty walls. soon enough, you gain your senses, looking down at your a softening dick and then at the photo the camera’s showing.

a photo of bronya showering that you somehow managed to get. your dick hardens as you stare at the photo before you let out a groan and then a sigh. you are absolutely delusional and insane, your obsession with the future supreme guardian is getting out of hand.. and jacking off is no longer enough.

it was hard to find bronya alone and vulnerable, but you memorized the entirety of bronya’s home at this point, so sneaking in as she slept wasn’t too hard. you carried her like she was made of porcelain, even leaving soft kisses on her cheeks to indulge in your desires just a small amount.

sneaking past several silvermane guards and random civilians, you made it to your average sized home and went down into the dingy basement; all with bronya in your arms. you made sure to be gentle as you tied her to the chair, not wanting to hurt her yet but making sure it’s tight enough so she can’t get out.

you bring in another chair and shift it to be right in front of bronya, the wooden legs scraping against the concrete. shimmying your sweats down so your dick gets freed from the fabric. all you have to do is wait for her to wake up, best thing to do is sit there and jack off.

her eyelids flutter as her head hangs low, bronya realizes she’s not back home, she’s sitting, tied up, in some dusty gray room. bronya lifts up her head and her eyes widen when she sees you, face all flushed and your dominant hand pumping your shaft.

“good, i was starting to get impatient.” you sit up, the chair pushing back from your action. bronya was about to question but you pulled her head back and placed your swollen tip on her pouty lips, “suck.” you said. bronya hesitated for a moment before starting to leave kitten licks at the head of your dick.

bronya’s a smart girl, as she licked your tip and started to engulf more of your inches, she had an idea to bite your shaft; fortunately, you already predicted she would try something smart like that. you pulled a knife from the pockets in your sweater and placed the blade on her throat.

it all happened so fast. the blade hitting bronya’s neck and you forcefully shoving your dick all the way inside her mouth, causing her to gag with tears brimming her eyes. “bite and i’ll slit your throat.” you say with the angriest tone you can muster, you weren’t actually mad at her.. you were just trying to scare her.

and it worked actually, bronya shut her eyes and just took your fucking of her throat like a good girl. you gripped onto her silver hair and started to quicken your pace, “my little bronya, my baby.”, you whisper as she gags on your shaft, drool dripping down your balls and onto her thighs.

you comb your fingers through her soft bangs, bucking your hips into her mouth. hot tears pile in bronya’s eyes as she keeps them shut to not take in what’s happening, visually, “such a tight throat.” you whisper, pulling your shaft out and lightly slapping her face with it. “what a good girl you are, my little bronya.”

her face scrunches up when you do that. to her, your smell is disgusting, absolutely dreadful. the blade of the knife cuts through each of the ropes that are keeping bronya sat, you pull her up by her arm and then replace her in the wooden seat. your hands find their home on her clothed ass, groping her from above her pajama pants.

“been wanting to do this for so long..” you murmur and lean into rub your nose against her rear. bronya’s body tenses up with disgust as your calloused fingers slip under her pants and pull them down, plain white underwear being exposed. your dominant hand moves to your shaft as you stroke yourself slowly and the other pulls her panties up, exposing more of her soft ass.

your hand snakes it’s way to covered cunt and rubs her slit up and down, even though bronya’s all tense and uncomfy, her panties are dampening with each rub. after a while, you slowly pull down her underwear and push the small of her back to expose her bare cunt to you, dripping and swollen, just like you imagined. you can barely conceal a groan when you see it.

bronya’s heart begins to race even more when you pull her to your lap, your cock resting against her wet slit. your non-dominant hand still holds the knife and you wrap your hands around her waist, kissing the skin below her ear and whispering sweet nothings to her. “my baby, bronya. a baby for my baby..”

bronya can’t even process your words before your tip is slowly pressing inside her, you let out a groan and bronya lets out a strained and stifled whimper. “so much tighter than I thought.” you whisper before moving your hips, your shaft going inch by inch into her walls, your pre-cum oozes out your tip and stains her insides.

bronya lets out winces and whimpers, her walls being stretched beyond their limit, you coo in response whispering sweet praises into her ear while kissing her neck. patience is your strongest virtue and the slow insertion going inch by inch wasn’t cutting, so you grab her hips harshly and forcefully push her down your cock, a sharp shrill leaving her throat.

just a little bit of blood leaves her cunt which makes you groan as it mixes with your pre, you throw the knife in your hand into the middle of the basement and dig your fingers into her hips, leaving her no time to get used to anything and immediately starts to pound away brutally.

“ah-! wait! stop t-this, at o-once!” she yelps out, her fingers dig into the armrests of the dingy, wooden chair, tears begin to brim her silver eyes, the pain and pleasure was overwhelming and unbearable. all you do is moan at her protests, your hips moving at an unreasonable pace.

bronya writhes around in your grasp, her head being thrown back and her nails digging scratching the armchairs, your hands grab the back of her knees and pull her legs up, bronya moans at the new angle of your thrusts. you let out growls and groans, the force of your pounding sending bronya’s upwards a little.

this cowgirl position was boring you. it was fun hearing her bronya whine in protest and squirm on your lap but you need more. you let out a scoff and then sit up from the chair, bronya lets out a confused whine and then a pained one when you reverse your positions, her sitting on the chair with her legs on your shoulders and you standing in front.

there’s no intermission or pause for her to get used to this new position before you return to your animalistic thrusts, with a newfound vigor. “oh, ffucckk..” you throw your head back and groan out with no limitations, her wet, warm walls and her cross-eyed expression send fire into your balls.

your head was clouded with lust and desire, your tip hitting that spongy spot inside her was addicting and your shaft was beginning to tighten, a sign of your impending orgasm. “yeah, gonna fill you up.” you said between chuckles and groans, “gonna fill my baby up, gonna make you all big and round for me..”

bronya shakes her head and lets out a whine. she feels used, like she’s nothing but a hole for you to fuck and breed. just the thought of going back to her mother, if you do let her go, with a round stomach filled with your child made her sob loudly. the pain from your brutal thrusts was intense and the sudden shock of waking up to this left the usual independent and strong bronya weak.

speaking of her mother, the silvermane guards probably noticed that the future supreme guardian was gone. cocolia without a doubt sent all of her men to search for her precious daughter, not knowing what’s happening to her. bronya begins to sob uncontrollably, which only turns you on more.

“keep cryin’ for me, baby, i’m close.” you murmur, biting your lip and watching those diamond tears fall down her elegant face. bronya’s covers her face as her sobs get more violent along with your thrusts, the sound of skin on skin smacking echoes through the basement. everything is just pushing you closer to the edge.

your fingers dig into hips, your eyebrows knitting together, you want this to last forever, it feels so good you don’t want it to end. unfortunately, it does and with one final thrust you let out a loud moan and throw your head back. “fuck, take it, take it all.” you growl, aggressively fucking yourself through your ecstasy.

the girlish and shrill yelp bronya let out when your sperm filled her up was something unheard of to any soul until you, the intense and violent feeling pushed bronya to an unwanted orgasm as well. her legs tremble on your shoulders and her hand fly from her face to the armrests of the chair.

it feels like forever until you stop moving and finally pull out. her body trembles like a leaf and meek whimpers and protests leave her mouth. your eyes trail from her red and teary face, to her heaving chest, to her exposed cunt, watching it drip with your cum made you hard again.

“so perfect.” you murmur, placing your hand on her stomach and rubbing it. “wha-..? stop..” she murmurs, trying to squirm but gives up quickly after seeing your once again hardening cock.

it’ll take a while for the silvermane guards to find you, they won’t suspect some introverted innocent lady to be the one to kidnap the heir of the supreme guardian. so in the mean time.. why not have some more fun?

“let’s hope that they find you soon, my little bronya.” you chuckle and slowly insert yourself back inside her tight cunt, her hands fly to your shoulders and she lets out a whine, feeling her stomach bulge out a little from all the cum and your dick.

all she can do is sob and pray someone hears this, but from what it looks like, it’ll take a while.

THIS IS SO BAD IM SORRRY

#bronya x reader #bronya rand x reader #bronya smut #bronya rand smut #yandere!reader #dom!reader #tw.noncon

[hangesdarling]

Hiiii !!

Can you pls write a hange oneshot where reader gets off on calling them commander and getting dominated by them ? 🫣 established relationship pls 👉🏼👈🏼

commander — h. zoë

PAIRING. Hange Zoë x female reader

SYNOPSIS. It was your second anniversary with Hange when they found out that calling them Commander turns you on.

CONTENT. 18+, MDNI, making-out, sexual nudity, alcohol consumption, lots of pet names, cursing, dom!Hange fr, fingering, Hange makes you suck their strap, strap-on sex, bondage, marking, biting, multiple orgasms (lmk what else)

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

A/N. omg anon you have no idea how much i love this idea aghhh

It was around 9 PM when you were patiently waiting outside the headquarters, putting a layer of lipstick on with a compact mirror in hand. You smiled to yourself, knowing that the shade perfectly matches the lingerie you're wearing under your work clothes. After all, your second anniversary with Hange has to be more special than the previous one. You made a mental note of the things you prepared for tonight, all the while eyeing the stars littered across the night sky.

However, Hange snapped you out of your musings with a surprising backhug almost knocking the air out of your lungs. Their giggles soon filling your ears with mirth.

"Hange, you scared me!" you pouted to which they responded with a soft laugh. 

They wrapped their strong arms around your torso, lips planting a tender kiss on your neck as they spoke, "Hello there, my love. Sorry about that."

You turned around to face them, placing your arms above their shoulder before leaving a kiss mark on their cheek. 

"Naughty as always," you teased them, causing their eyes to soften in a sultry manner as their hands went to your waist.

"But you love that, don't you?" Hange smirked. They further proved that they're in an extremely flirty mood tonight by carrying you into their arms, dashing out of the headquarters, and into the awaiting car in the parking lot. 

"Happy second anniversary, sweetheart," they whispered before pulling you into another heated kiss on the driver's seat. Hange's hand wandered under your shirt, their callused hands gripping and rubbing circles on your soft flesh. They smiled into the kiss as their thumb felt your lacy underwear beneath. 

Hange gently pulled away, placing a firm kiss on your chest before saying, "I'll have you at home. Hope you're ready for my surprise, honey."

-

Hange almost didn't make it to the house as their lips were already linked to yours outside the door. Your hands felt for the knob, stumbling yourselves into the living room as Hange would not break the kiss. Their hands maintained a firm grip around your waist, never letting go until the both of you collapsed on the couch. 

"Ease down, baby," you managed to whisper, catching your breath as Hange busied their mouth on your neck. 

Hange let out a low groan. "How could I when you're also wearing that perfume that drives me crazy?"

You smiled to yourself. "You noticed?" 

"'Course I do." Hange continued leaving open-mouthed kisses on your flushed skin, a lace of red marks crawling along your neck. 

Hange pulled away momentarily as if remembering something. They smoothed out their creased clothes, suddenly smiling.

"Before I forgot," they panted. "I have something for us tonight."

With that, they stood up from the couch and walked over to the counter. They pulled out a large bottle of wine while balancing two shot glasses and ice on one hand. 

"Oh, I wouldn't mind a drink," you beamed, sitting up. 

Hange grinned at you, flashing that naughty smirk that always gets your knees weak. 

"This isn't just a normal wine, sweetheart," they smiled, their voice curling into a mysterious tone, triggering your curiosity. "I got this one made for us."

Hange popped the cork open, pouring halfway into the shot glass before placing a large ice cube with a clink. They offered you one as they poured the other for themselves. The cloying smell danced in your nostrils, a sweet mixture of strawberry and honey. 

"Reminds me of your perfume," Hange remarked as they brought the glass to their lips. Indeed, the smell reminded you of the sweet perfume you always apply on your skin, like fresh sugared strawberries in summer.

You tilted your glass until the cold drink slid down your throat, the sweet and tangy flavor coating your tongue. The sensation made your heart thump, your lips sucked on the remaining drops until the ice bumps on your wet lips. You found yourself asking for more, and in each shot, you felt a familiar heat creeping up on your body— one that reached past your ears and reminded you of the first time Hange made love with you. 

The bottle was emptied halfway when Hange brought you onto their lap once again, their wine-stained lips connecting with yours. They had long set their drink down, eager to have something much sweeter. Hange placed a hand on the back of your head, sliding their tongue into your mouth. Their tongue brushed against yours; a way to taste each other, to seal the experience of such a tempting drink. Your lips sucked on theirs, swiping your tongue over the succulent taste of their lips as your hips began to grind against them.

Your body ached for friction, a relieving touch after such a sensual warmth. Hange took this as a signal to set you back down on the sofa, their other leg anchoring on the side so they could press their body against yours more intimately. Your mind was in a dreamy haze, one where all you could feel was Hange's touch, where all the memories playing were Hange bending you over or folding you into submission. The wine must be an aphrodisiac, you wondered. 

Hange slipped their hands under your shirt, swiftly undoing the buttons one by one until you're left with that lingerie you bought specifically for this day. At that moment of intense passion, Hange tried to ease you down by kissing your shoulders, neck, and chest. The tender attention from their hands and lips failed to ease you up, but rather aroused you even more. 

You pulled them by their necktie, pulling their glasses off as your lips attached to theirs. Your legs wrapped around Hange’s hips, securing them in your body. Hange circled a thumb over your breasts, their hands slowly creeping down until their fingers brush over your clit. A whimper escaped your mouth, involuntarily bucking your hips to their touch. 

"Ah, so eager, aren't you, darling?" they teased, teasing your wet entrance with a finger, earning them whiny pleas from you. Hange chuckled at your reaction, the sight of your blushing face looked so beautiful into the night. The scent of strawberry on your lips matching your perfume aroused Hange even more. Their eyelids grew heavy, a sultry smile stretching on their lips as they slid their middle and ring fingers inside you. You gasped softly as you felt the cold metal of the promise ring on their finger— that special gift you gave them on your first anniversary as their girlfriend. 

You bit your lip, whimpering as their thrusts were excruciatingly slow. Their other hand held down your abdomen so you wouldn't move. 

"Please..." your whine broke into a whisper. "Please, Commander."

Hange shot you an amused glance, lips curling teasingly from your desperate plea. 

"What did you say, sweetheart?" they asked innocently, fingers still thrusting at a languorous pace. 

Your hands went to your face in embarrassment, having realized what came out of your mouth. 

"Come on, don't be shy, love," they muttered, gently caressing your inner thighs. "Say it again."

The way they used their commanding voice only thickened your arousal, like honey dripping down your throat in a way that makes it hard for you to breathe. And yet it was so sweet. 

"Please... Commander," you whispered, fully submitting to their command. 

"Good girl," they smiled as their thrusts quickened, their lips catching your moans in a heated kiss. Their slender fingers curled and stretched you out, knowing just the right angle to make you squirm and scream in delight. 

Your hands clawed on their back, your mouth working to leave kiss and bite marks on their neck and chest. Sometimes your hand would tug on their hair, followed by a whimper of pleasure that Hange delights to hear. 

The coil in your stomach tightened, urging your hips to move along Hange's rhythm as your release came crashing at you. You let out a loud, drawn-out moan of Hange's name before stilling yourself back to the couch, still panting. 

Hange kissed down your throat and said, "I'm not done with you, sweetheart."

They were so gentle as they sat you up on the couch, whispering sweet things into your ear before making a contrasting move that filled you up with arousal once more. 

They unbuckled their belt before motioning towards the floor and said, "On your knees, love."

Your cheeks heat up once again, as you get down on your knees. Hange couldn't miss the excited smile on your lips as they unzipped their pants to show you the new dildo strapped on them. 

Your teeth caught your lower lip, a hand running a hand over the length. It was longer and thicker than all the ones Hange has used on you before. "You really bought a new one, huh?" 

"Just for you. I know my princess can take it,” they smirked, holding up your chin. "Get it wet for me, alright?" 

Your head bobbed up and down in alacrity, eyes hungry for what Hange has in store for you. "Yes, Commander." 

It was all Hange needed to hear before kissing you once more, their tongue running over your lips before pulling away to replace it with the tip of that dildo. They held down the length, brushing the tip through your lips before slowly inching it inside your opening lips. Hange fed you inch by inch, mindful if you're in discomfort because of the size. But they found none but pleasure in your face as your eyes fluttered close, taking the length halfway before pushing it back and forth against your mouth. 

Hange has to cover a hand on their cheek, keeping themself from losing control just by seeing your cheeks hollowing out on their length. Your hands rested on their knees, breathing through your nose and careful not to choke. Every thrust was hitting your uvula, stretching out your throat in both pain and pleasure. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting Hange's eyes just to show them how deep you could take them in. 

"Fuck," Hange whispered, eagerness spreading over their face just by watching you. 

"Oh god, I need to do it inside you," they mumbled before slowly pulling the thing out of your mouth. Hange circled an arm on your waist, pulling you back to their lap for another kiss. 

"Since you like calling me Commander so much, I hope you won't mind a bit of what I'm planning to do," they chuckled in your ear. They rose from their seat, keeping a hand on your waist as they went to the study table they set up in their living room. 

Hange went behind you, kissing the back of your neck once more as they gathered your wrists behind. 

"Remember when we first met?" Hange began to which you nodded, attentive and intrigued with how they were starting. They smiled at yoru direction and continued.

"I thought you're just another stick-in-the-mud Survey Corps logistics officer. Just handing me the reports and such," Hange grinned at the memory, slowly undoing their tie. "But I got the hint when you're frequenting my office. Always early on reports. And sometimes... your skirt would be a little too short or something."

Hange placed their necktie around your wrists, securing the soft fabric in a firm knot. Your breath caught on your throat as they went close to your ear, making something inside you tingle.

"Really, I want to hold back. But my mind kept telling me I need to have you bent down on my desk, getting fucked," Hange pushed you further until your hips hit the edge of their desk. "And that's just what I did."

Hange's voice went deep and husky as they pushed a hand on your back, bending you in such a provocative position with your hands tied up. Words caught in your throat, mind blank from arousal. You felt the tip of their dildo brushing and teasing your folds, eliciting another moan from you. 

"Remember all of that, my love?" You could hear Hange's smile just from their voice as they began to inch the dildo deeper into your entrance.

"Fuck...!" you breathed out, your voice diminishing into soundless moans as the new length stretched you further. Hange angled their thrusts in a way that you could feel the depth in your stomach. They slid in and out slowly so you could get used to the length and girth. 

In no time, Hange has you wet enough to increase their thrusts. They bit and kissed your back, whispering praises in your ear, and entertaining you each time you called them Commander. 

"That's it, my sweet girl. Doing so well for me," they would whisper.

Outside, the night was cold and quiet, offering a tranquil scenery for sleeping creatures. But the passion from your lovemaking defied that cold silence. At some point, Hange became a little too eager, tearing away the thin lacy fabric on your skin despite your protests. I'll buy you a new one, sweetie, they would whisper breathlessly, as their hands roamed over your almost naked body. 

The table rocked against the force of your movements, papers sliding down, and a pen holder or two getting knocked over. Your moans erupted in broken, varying tones of the word Commander, and Hange couldn't help but tease you about it.

"Mhm, you're so obedient. Bending down for your Commander like this?" they would say. 

Hange drew out multiple orgasms from you, your wetness beginning to drip down your legs as they pulled out. Seeing your weak, almost limp body bent down had Hange smiling as they untied your hands. They took their discarded uniform across the room, gently wrapping it around you before taking you in their arms to carry you upstairs. 

Once there, Hange cleaned up the both of you with a warm, damp towel before sinking to the sheets. You slept almost instantly in their warm embrace. They whispered one last, "Happy anniversary, my dear" before resting their head on your chest to sleep. 

Perhaps it was around 3 or 4 AM when your eyes blinked open, and felt relief remembering it was Saturday tomorrow. Hange remained sleeping on your chest, their brown locks messily draped over. You kissed their forehead, gently taking Hange’s hair in your hands to tie them in their preferred ponytail. As you finished, you ran a hand on their hair, waiting for sleep. However, you realized something pressing against your chest from the uniform Hange lent you. You were careful to inspect the breast pocket to not wake Hange up. Your hand fished down the small circular object, angling it on the sliver of moonlight pouring from the window. 

You held a soft gasp at the realization that you were holding an engagement ring. Delicately, you slid it on your finger and found it to be in a perfect size. Your eyes softened once more, a smile etched on your lips as you took the ring back to the breast pocket of Hange's uniform. The night rocked you back to sleep, your eager heart looking forward to the warm morning to come. 

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3

#hange zoë #hanji zoë #hange zoe #hanji zoe #hange zoe x reader #hanji zoe x reader #hange zoe x you #hanji zoe x you #hange zoe x y/n #hanji zoe x y/n #hange zoe smut #hanji zoe smut #hange x reader #hanji x reader #hange x y/n #hanji x y/n #hange x you #hanji x you #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot x female reader #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #✂ rem writes____✍︎

[acourtofthought]

242 Reasons Why Lucien is the GOAT of the ACOTAR Series

“I’m Lucien. Courtier and emissary.” He gestured to me with a flourish. “Your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold.”

Lucien smirked. “Apologies, Feyre.”

I finally found Lucien astride a black gelding, grinning down at me with too-white teeth.

“I admire your balls, Feyre—I really do. Or maybe it’s stupidity

“A valiant effort,” Lucien said with a smirk.

Lucien snorted but didn’t say anything else

“I might die of surprise,” Lucien said behind me. “You made a joke, Feyre.”

A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle’s contents and chuckling with a muttered “Brushed.”

Lucien remained sitting on the blanket and lifted the bottle of wine in salute. He took a slug from it as he sprawled on his back and gazed at the green canopy.

He sighed, looking skyward before he studied me warily, that metal eye narrowing with unnerving focus.

I wondered—wondered if being emissary also meant being spymaster.

“I didn’t keep my mouth shut when I should have, and was punished for it.”

“Well, thank the Cauldron that you didn’t. Cleaning up that mess would have ruined the rest of my day.”

He winced. “Shit, Feyre—I’m not that old.”

Lucien huffed a laugh. “Not as good as Tam, but I know how to handle my weapons.”

“Would you like me to teach you how to wield a blade, or do you already know how, oh mighty mortal huntress?

Lucien sighed as he looked me over. “Do you ever stop being so serious and dull?”. “Do you ever stop being such a prick?” I snapped back. But Lucien grinned at me. “Much better.”

The face of Tamlin’s emissary—more court-trained and calculating than I’d seen him yet.

In lieu of a pretty breakfast table by the window, a worn worktable dominated the space, covered in various weapons.

It was there he sat, wearing only a white shirt and trousers, his red hair unbound and gleaming like liquid fire. Tamlin’s court-trained emissary, but a warrior in his own right.

“I had to go sort out some hotheads on the northern border—official emissary business,” he said, setting down the hunting knife he’d been cleaning, a long, vicious blade.

Lucien leaned back in his chair, smiling with feline delight.

Lucien never cared about it, never expected to be crowned High Lord, so he spent his youth doing everything a High Lord’s son probably shouldn’t: wandering the courts, making friends with the sons of other High Lords”—

he’d already made many friends across the courts and had always been good at talking to people.

Lucien told her to go back to the shit-hole she’d crawled out of. She took his eye as punishment.

The metal eye narrowed on me while the other remained wary, unimpressed. “Yes?”

The look he gave me was more contemplative than any he’d given me before. “I know far too many High Fae and lesser faeries who wouldn’t have seen it that way—or bothered.”

He reached for something at his side and tossed it to me. I had to fight to stay in the saddle as I fumbled for it—a jeweled hunting knife. / I’d never held one so finely crafted, so perfectly balanced.

“Burn in Hell,” Lucien replied for Tamlin.

“Idiot!” he yelled at me, then glanced behind him toward where the other faeries stared. “Useless human fool.” Without further word, he slung me over his shoulder as if I were a sack of potatoes.

I found that he was running—fast. Faster than anything should be able to move.

I could have sworn that Lucien was sleeping upright, fork in hand.

Lucien propped an arm on the table and covered his mouth with his hand, his russet eye bright.

“Faerie pig!” I yelled, and Lucien howled, almost tipping back in his chair.

“Well, I’m late for something incredibly important,” Lucien said, and before I could call him on his outright lie or beg him to stay, the fox-masked faerie vanished.

Lucien, claiming that he had miserable emissary business to attend to,

Lucien, mercifully, appeared like Lucien. I didn’t ask whether that was because Tamlin had informed him to put up a better glamour or because he didn’t bother trying to be something he wasn’t.

“I see,” I lied, not quite seeing at all. Lucien chuckled, sensing it

He used the dagger to clean his nails. “I’ve been busy. So have you, I take it.”

Lucien climbed the statue to remove the head.

“Cauldron boil me,” Lucien whistled as I came down the stairs. “She looks positively Fae.”

“Unfortunately for you and your neck,” Lucien countered, “tonight’s just a party.” “Do you lie awake at night to come up with all your witty replies for the following day?” Lucien winked at me.

“So there’s singing and dancing and excessive drinking,” Lucien chimed in, falling into step beside me. “And dallying,” he added with a wicked grin.

“Remember the last time you ignored my warning?” He poked me in the neck, and I batted his hand away.

“I also remember you telling me how witchberries were harmless, and the next thing I knew, I was half-delirious and falling all over myself,” I said, recalling the afternoon from a few weeks ago. I’d had hallucinations for hours afterward, and Lucien had laughed himself sick—enough so that Tamlin had chucked him into the reflection pool.

His auburn hair burned like hot metal, and his russet eye smoldered like a bottomless forge.

“Cauldron boil and fry me,” he muttered,

“Idiot,” he said when he looked at my face. “Drunken idiot.”

I wanted his broad hands running over my bare skin, wanted his teeth scraping against my neck, wanted his mouth all over me. “I’m trying to eat,” Lucien said

Lucien lead me to the window, where he pushed me against the velvet drapes. / The tang of magic shoved itself up my nostrils. Though his sword was pointed at the floor, Lucien’s grip tightened on it until his knuckles turned white. Magic—a glamour. To conceal me, to make me a part of Lucien—invisible, hidden by the faerie’s magic and scent.

Lucien pointed his sword at Rhysand. “Watch your filthy mouth.”

Lucien spat at Rhysand’s feet and shoved his sword between us.

“You draw blood from me, Lucien, and you’ll learn how quickly Amarantha’s whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady.” The color leeched from Lucien’s face, but he held his ground.

Lucien stared him down for a moment, spat on the ground, and stormed up the stairs.

“Well, at least we don’t have to lie to you anymore. Let’s clean you up a bit.”

“Fixed—as pert and pretty as before.” He smirked at me.

“Her name, Emissary?” Amarantha asked of Lucien. But Lucien only glanced at Tamlin before closing his eyes and squaring his shoulders.

“I thought you would have learned your lesson, Lucien. Though this time your silence will damn you as much as your tongue.” Lucien kept his eyes shut. Ready—he was ready for Rhysand to wipe out everything he was, to turn his mind, his self, into dust.

Then, shattering the silence like a shooting star, a voice—Lucien’s—bellowed across the chamber. “TO YOUR LEFT!”

She listened, of course—but only after she made Tamlin bestow Lucien’s punishment. Twenty lashes.”

He unclasped his cloak and set it around my shoulders.

“It’s why I couldn’t come sooner,” he said, his throat bobbing. “She used her—used our powers to keep my back from healing. I haven’t been able to move until today.”

The brutally scarred face beneath was still handsome—his features sharp and elegant.

“Tam!” Lucien cried over the chaos. A sword hurtled through the air, a shooting star of steel.

Lucien hunted down five naga yesterday.”

Lucien had gifted both to me—the dagger during the months before Amarantha, the belt in the weeks after her downfall, when I’d carried the dagger, along with many others, everywhere I went. You might as well look good if you’re going to arm yourself to the teeth, he’d said.

Last week, I’d finally asked him if she’d set her sights on him, and Lucien had merely given me a look, snarling softly, before stalking off

the right hand of a High Lord and another High Lord’s son.

“I didn’t lie,” Lucien said tightly. “I technically did fall off my horse.” He patted his mount’s flank. “After one of them tackled me off her.”

I am the first one the others look to—I set the example.

“I was forced to watch as my father butchered the female I loved. My brothers forced me to watch.”

“Please,” Lucien said, bowing his head gracefully. “The effort to rebuild is our burden to share. It would be our honor.”

He assured me that he hated the gatherings as much as I did, and that Lucien was the only one who really enjoyed himself,

Lucien intervened calmly, “I already have my sources looking into it.”

Lucien sighed a bit and said to Tamlin, “If we perhaps trained her in secret—”

Lucien muttered something that sounded like a plea to the Cauldron.

Lucien took a deep breath that sounded a lot like: “Here we go.”

Lucien cleared his throat. “She meant no harm, Tam.”/ Lucien held his gaze. “Worse things have happened, worse things can happen. Just relax.”

Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless—

“How long have the claws been appearing?” he said softly. "There's only so much I can do,” he said hoarsely. “But I’ll ask him tonight. About the training. The powers will manifest whether we train you or not, no matter who is around. I’ll ask him tonight,” he repeated.

They will hunt her, and kill her, Ianthe had hissed at Lucien. Lucien had growled back, They’ll do it anyway, so what’s the difference?

We are not assassins, Lucien had cut in. Rhys is what he is, but who would take his place—. Lucien had gone on, his tone pleading, Tamlin. Tam. Just let her train, let her master this—if the other High Lords do come for her, let her stand a chance...

His red hair was tied back, and there wasn’t a hint of finery on him: just armored leather, swords, knives

Lucien, beside Tamlin, again put a hand on his sword. “Stop this.”

“That is enough.” Lucien surged for Elain, for the Cauldron.

Lucien snarled at the king over the bite of the magic at his throat, “Don’t just leave her on the damned floor—” There was a flare of light, and a scrape, and then Lucien was stalking toward Elain, freed of his restraints.

As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain.

“She is no such thing,” she said, and shoved him again. Lucien didn’t move an inch.

Perhaps you’ll get a handsome Fae lord as your mate, too.”

Lucien’s answering growl was nothing short of feral.

Lucien spun toward me, and that metal eye whirred and narrowed. Centuries of cultivated reason clicked into place.

But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily.

His gaze on me. Face hard. As if he’d seen through every lie. As if he knew of the second tattoo beneath my glove, and the glamour I now kept on it. As if he knew that they had let a fox into a chicken coop—and he could do nothing. Not unless he never wanted to see his mate—Elain—again.

It was Lucien who answered, studying my painting as if it held the proof I knew he was searching for.

Lucien remained leaning against the door across from mine. His room. I didn’t doubt he’d ensured I now stayed across from him. Didn’t doubt that the metal eye he possessed was always turned toward my own chambers, even while he slept.

“She’s going to spin a story that you’ll want to hear,” Lucien warned. / Lucien halted me with a hand around my elbow. “You’re smarter than that.” I studied the broad, tan hand wrapped around my elbow.

Lucien breathed, “Where is he keeping her?” / “Tell me anyway. List all of them.”. “You’ll die the moment you set foot in his territory.” “I survived well enough when I found you.”

Lucien only nodded. But I felt his gaze on my back, fixed right on my spine, as I headed downstairs

Lucien answered, “If you expect our gratitude, you’ll be waiting a while, Ianthe.”

Lucien seemed to be trying very, very hard not to roll his eyes.

I could practically feel the snide remark simmering in Lucien.

“My emissary knows the wall as well as any sentry.”

“I have an old friend at the Dawn Court. She’s skilled at tinkering—blending magic and machinery. Tamlin got her to craft it for me at great risk.”

I was fairly certain that only centuries of training kept Lucien from leaping over the table to rip out Jurian’s throat.

“The gap in the wall is right up here,” Lucien was saying, sounding about as thrilled as me to be in such company.

Brannagh studied how closely I stood to Lucien; how he shifted slightly to shield me, too.

Lucien sat against a nearby tree, folding one booted ankle over another. “Whatever you’re planning, it’ll land us knee-deep in shit.”

“I would have been a part of the human-Fae alliance.”

“I did it for you, too, you know.” Cold, hard words. “I went with him to get you back.”

But the only trace of you was that ring, melted between the stones of the parlor. I got rid of it a moment before Tam arrived home to see it.”

“This situation is terrible,” I said, and it was the truth. A low snort.

And despite Jurian, despite the sneering royals, a corner of Lucien’s mouth tugged upward.

I gave Lucien a subtle, pleading look, and he barely hid his smirk as he sauntered over to me. Our dispersing party watched as he braced my waist in his broad hands and easily hefted me off the horse.

Ever the courtier, he bowed back.

He flat-out refused to participate. I replaced him in the Rite, but …” I went in his stead, and I did my duty to the court.

I could feel Ianthe scrambling to regain control, to find some way to spin it. Perhaps Lucien could, too. For he took my hand, and then knelt upon one knee in the grass, pressing my fingers to his brow.

I kept close to Lucien, who was inclined to indulge me.

Lucien answered on the second knock. “I heard you—what’s wrong.” He scanned me, russet eye wide as he noted my disheveled hair, my sweaty nightgown. / I swallowed, a silent question on my face, and he nodded, retreating into the room to let me inside. Bare from the waist up, he’d managed to haul on a pair of pants before opening the door, and hastily buttoned them as I strode past.

“What did you dream of tonight?” he asked quietly./ Lucien rose, stalking to me. / Lucien paused half a foot from me. He didn’t so much as object as I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face against his warm, bare chest. / Lucien loosed a heavy sigh and slid an arm around my waist, the other threading through my hair to cradle my head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.” He held me, stroking soothing lines down my back

His red hair gleamed in the faint firelight.

His silence was heavy—sad. I hated the lie, hated it for how filthy it felt to wield it. “I’m sorry,” he said

It’s why we avoid bargains unless it’s necessary: even the scholars at the Day Court don’t know how it works. Believe me, I’ve asked.” “For me—you asked them for me.”. “Yes. I went last winter to inquire about breaking your bargain with Rhys.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I—we didn’t want to give you false hope. And we didn’t dare let Rhysand get wind of what we were doing, in case he found a way to interfere. To stop it.”

“You didn’t stop him.” “I tried. I begged him for mercy. He didn’t listen. He couldn’t listen.”

“Even if they’re now our allies,” I mumbled, “I still hate them.” A snort. “Me too.”

“Autumn Court males have fire in their blood—and they fuck like it, too.”

Then at us, their eyes widening further as they noted Lucien’s cruel beauty.

Lucien stared him down. “We accept no tribute from the human lands. Least of all children.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, well aware that Lucien carefully watched from the shade of a nearby oak.

Lucien had gone to the stream to get more water

Lucien woke me the next morning with a hand over my mouth, warning gleaming in his russet eye. I smelled it a moment later: the coppery tang of blood. / Lucien slid from the tent, limbs loose and ready to shift into a defensive position. He’d been trained, he once told me—at the Autumn Court and at this one. Like Rhys, he usually opted for words to win his battles, but I’d seen him and Tamlin in the practice ring. He knew how to handle a weapon. How to kill, if need be.

Lucien laid his own cloak across the remains of the two young women.

“They are our allies,” he growled at me, at Lucien, both of us seated in armchairs flanking the mantel. / “And you should have left it alone for me to deal with.” Tamlin heaved a jagged breath. “Not retaliated like children.” He threw a glare in Lucien’s direction. “I expected better from you.” / “You sent the Bogge after them!” Tamlin roared. /Lucien had tracked it down—and we’d lured it, carefully, over hours, back to that camp. Right to where Dagdan and Brannagh had been gloating over their kill. / Lucien cleared his throat. Stood as well. “Tam—those humans were barely more than children. Feyre gave the royals an order to stand down. They ignored it. If we let Hybern walk all over us, we stand to lose more than their alliance. The Bogge reminded them that we aren’t without our claws, too.”

He exploded. Furniture splintered and went flying, windows cracked and shattered. / My knees slammed into the carpeted floor, and Tamlin was instantly in front of me, hands shaking— The doors burst open. “What have you done,” Lucien breathed, and Tamlin’s face was the picture of devastation as Lucien shoved him aside. He let Lucien shove him aside and help me stand. / “Let’s get you cleaned up,” Lucien said, an arm around my shoulders as he eased me from the room.

the broad panes of his chest, his stomach.

But Lucien was there. Her focus wholly on me, on taking from me the beauty I’d burned from her, Brannagh did not see him winnow until it was too late. Until Lucien’s sword refracted the light of the sun leaking through the canopy. And then met flesh and bone.

“I’m going with you,” he said again, face splattered with blood as bright as his hair. “I’m getting my mate back.”

“I know a place,” Lucien said, walking toward the cave that would take us to his home.

I let Lucien lead the way,

“It doesn’t lead anywhere. It curves away in the back—it’ll keep us out of sight.” I let him go inside first nonetheless.

Flint struck, and I found myself gazing at a makeshift camp of sorts. The candle Lucien had ignited sat on a natural stone ledge, and on the floor nearby lay three bedrolls and old blankets, crusted with leaves and cobwebs. A little fire pit lay in the sloped center of the space, the ceiling above it charred. No one had been here in months. Years. “I used to stay here while hunting. Before—I left,” he said,

“It’s too risky to eat,” I admitted, evading his question. Lucien was having none of it. “I knew. I knew you were lying the moment you unleashed that light in Hybern. My friend at the Dawn Court has the same power—her light is identical. And it does not do whatever horseshit you lied about it doing.”

His eye seemed to simmer. As if being in his own lands set that molten ore inside him rising to the surface, even with the damper on his power. “Glad to see the mask is off, at least.”

“You have the gall to question my priorities regarding Elain—yet what was your motive where I was concerned? Did you plan to spare me from your path of destruction because of any genuine friendship, or simply for fear of what it might do to her?”

His woods, by blood and law. He was a son of this forest, and here … He looked crafted from it. For it. Even that gold eye.

he waded into the stream, boots off and pants rolled to his knees, and caught one with his bare hands. He’d tied his hair up, a few strands of it falling into his face as he swooped down again and threw a second trout onto the sandy bank where I’d been trying to find a substitute for fishing twine. / Lucien picked them up by their tails, as if he’d done it a thousand times. He might very well have, right here in this stream. “I’ll clean them while you start the fire.” I

“As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn’t particularly needed or wanted. Perhaps it was a good thing. I was able to study for longer than my father allowed my brothers before shoving them out the door to rule over some territory within our lands, and I could train for as long as I liked, since no one believed I’d be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting … I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.” He eased to his feet with a groan, his unbound hair glimmering as the midday sun overhead set the blood and wine hues aglow. “I’d say that sounds more High-Lord-like than the life of an idle, unwanted son.” A long, steely look. “Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?”

of all the sounds that Lucien so carefully sorted through while he kept watch.

he removed his cloak and added it over my blanket.

“Father,” the one now holding a knife to my throat said to Lucien, “is rather put out that you didn’t stop by to say hello.” “We’re on an errand and can’t be delayed,” Lucien answered smoothly, mastering himself.

he saw the sweat beading on my temple, my upper lip, as my blood heated. A slight bob of his chin was his only sign of understanding.

“Run,” I gasped out, but Lucien was already at my side, a steadying hand under my arm as I burned that flame hotter and hotter. It wouldn’t keep them contained for long, and I could indeed feel someone’s power rising to challenge mine. But there was another force to wield. Lucien understood the same moment I did. Sweat simmered on Lucien’s brow as a pulse of flame-licked power slammed into the stones just above us. Dust and debris rained down. I threw any trickle of magic into Lucien’s next blow. His next. / Lucien and I brought down the cave ceiling.

I’d been wearing my cloak, but … he’d indeed given me his. He shivered against the cold as we dragged and clawed our way up the mountain slope, and did not dare stop.

“Tell me about her—about Elain,” Lucien said quietly.

“And then I’ll ask your mate how he survived it—knowing you were engaged to someone else. Sharing another male’s bed.”

“You left us.” Us. Not Tamlin. Us. The words echoed into the dark,

"You fit into the Spring Court as little as I did, Lucien. You enjoyed its pleasures and diversions. But don’t pretend you weren’t made for something more than that.”

“Run,” Lucien breathed. / “Faster,” Lucien ordered. “Don’t look!” he barked as I began to turn my head to see if they’d followed. He lashed out a hand to grip my elbow, steadying me before I could even register that I’d stumbled. / “Zag,” Lucien panted. “We need to—” He shoved me aside, and I staggered, arms wheeling. Just as an arrow ricocheted off the ice where I’d been standing. “Faster,” Lucien snapped, and I didn’t hesitate.

Behind him, cut off by his brothers, Lucien had drawn his own knife and now sized up the other two.

I think Lucien shouted my name.

“Which one?” I asked carefully. Mor swept her attention over Lucien once more. I almost pitied Lucien for the weight in her gaze, the utter judgment. The stare of the Morrigan—whose gift was pure truth. Whatever she beheld in Lucien was enough for her to say, “The town house. You have someone waiting there for you.”

Lucien survey our surroundings.

But their watchful silence was indication enough: let him decide his own fate. At last, Lucien looked at me. At us. He said, “There are children laughing in the streets.” I blinked. He said it with such … quiet surprise. As if he hadn’t heard the sound in a long, long time.

“I see you brought home a new pet,” she said, nose crinkling with distaste. / Before I could introduce him, Lucien bowed at the waist. Deeply / Amren smiled slightly. “Already trained, I see.”

Lucien, to his credit, didn’t back away a step. From Rhys, or me, or the Illyrians. The Clever Fox Stares Down Winged Death. The painting flashed into my mind.

Lucien only shifted on his feet. Wary. Considering. I counted the heartbeats, debating how much I’d interfere if he said something truly stupid, when he at last murmured, “There is a longer story to be told, it seems.” Smart answer.

Lucien weighed my offer—and the three males monitoring his every blink and breath. He only nodded. Another wise decision.

“And you love him. And he—he truly does love you.” Lucien dragged a hand through his red hair. “And all these people I have spent my centuries hating, even fearing … They are your family.”

And yet there she was, acting more like a cranky old aunt than anything.”

But Lucien was standing in the doorway. And from the devastation on his face, I knew he’d heard every word. Seen and heard and felt the hollowness and despair radiating from her.

“I would never hurt her.” A bleak sort of honesty in his words.

We were almost to the door, Cassian already in the hall, when Lucien said to me, “Thank you.” I didn’t dare ask him for what.

"set up the handsome one as High Lord of Autumn"

“What did you do with yourself this afternoon?” “Slept,” he said. “Washed. Sat on my ass.”

His face was indeed controlled, but—a hint of surprise twinkled there. Wariness, too, but … surprise.

Lucien, standing near the windows and watching the sun set over Velaris, was wearing a fine green jacket embroidered with gold, his cream-colored pants showing off muscled thighs, and his knee-high black boots polished enough that the chandeliers of faelight reflected off them. He’d always had a casual grace about him, but here, tonight, with his hair tied back and jacket buttoned to his neck, he truly looked the part of a High Lord’s son. Handsome, powerful, a bit rakish—but well-mannered and elegant.

Lucien considered. “Can I offer my unsolicited advice?” / Lucien studied my mate, then me. “I assume Feyre is going.” / “Are you planning to hide her powers?” / Lucien studied me again, and it was an effort not to squirm. “My father would likely join with Hybern if he thought he stood a chance of getting his power back that way—by killing you.” / Lucien jerked his chin to Azriel. “That’s the information you need to gather. What my father knows—if my brothers realized what she was doing. You need to start from there, and build your plan for this meeting accordingly.”

Rhys swirled his wine once, set it down, and said to Lucien, “You and Azriel should talk. Tomorrow.” Lucien glanced toward the shadowsinger—who only nodded at him. “I’m at your disposal.”

He added to Lucien, who did not balk from those writhing shadows, “After lunch, we’ll meet.

“You trust Lucien.” Rhys angled his head at the not-quite question. “I trust in the fact that we currently have possession of the one thing he wants above all else. And as long as that remains, he’ll try to stay on our good side. But if that changes … His talent was wasted in the Spring Court. There was a reason he had that fox mask, you know.”

“He’s not a bad person—he’s not evil.” “He certainly isn’t.”

Too thin. She must not be eating at all. How can she even stand? The thoughts flowed through his head, one after another. His heart was a raging, thunderous beat, and he didn’t dare move from his position a mere five feet away. She hadn’t yet turned toward him, but the ravages of her fasting were evident enough. Touch her, smell her, taste her— The instincts were a running river. He fisted his hands at his sides.

Azriel seemed like a decent enough male

He tried to sound casual—comfortable. Even as his heart raced and raced, so swift he thought he might vomit on the very expensive, very old carpet. From Sangravah, if the patterns and rich dyes were any indication. Rhysand was many things, but he certainly had good taste. This entire place had been decorated with thought and elegance, with a penchant for comfort over stuffiness.

An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug. Forced his hands to be steady while he poured himself a cup of tea and sat in the chair opposite Nesta’s vacated one. “There’s a plate of biscuits. Would you like one?”

he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.

Her eyes were the brown of a fawn’s coat.

“I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.” And a whole lot of nothing. He’d told the shadowsinger all he knew—of his surviving brothers, of his father. His mother … he’d kept some details, irrelevant and utterly personal, to himself. Everything else—his father’s closest allies, the most conniving courtiers and lords … He’d handed it over. Granted, it was dated by a few centuries, but in his time as emissary, from the information he’d gathered, not much had changed. They’d all acted the same Under the Mountain, anyway. And after what had happened with his brothers a few days ago … There was no tinge of guilt when he told Azriel what he knew. None of what he felt when he looked toward the south—toward both of the courts he’d called home.

He fought against the bristling rage, the irrational urge to find the male who’d claimed her and shred him apart. The words were a rasp as he instead said, “I know. I’m sorry.”

He paused right between them and said to me, to Nesta, “She needs fresh air.” / “We’ll judge what she needs.” I could have sworn his ruby hair gleamed like molten metal as his temper rose. But it faded, his russet eye fixing on me. “Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden. But get her out of this house for an hour or two.” Then he walked away.

“Mother above,” Lucien said, dragging a hand through his hair.

Lucien had offered to make himself useful while we were gone by reading through some of the texts now piled on the tables throughout the sitting room.

But I will say that Lucien is loyal—fiercely so.”

It wasn’t just about what he thought—it was the … feeling. I sensed no ill will, no conniving. Only concern for her. And … sorrow. Longing

Cassian had come off the roof at some point to join Lucien in the sitting room, the books from the wall spread on the low-lying table between them

It felt like days ago. I rested my head against the embroidered back of the chair and watched Lucien take a seat on the rolled arm of the nearest couch. “Long day?” I grunted my response.

He weighed my tone, and crossed his arms. “Let me do something. About Elain. I heard—from my room. Everything that happened just now. It wouldn’t hurt to have a healer look her over. Externally and internally.” I was tired enough that I could barely summon the breath to ask, “Do you think the Cauldron made her insane?” “I think she went through something terrible,” Lucien countered carefully. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have your best healer do a thorough examination.”

“Please tell me,” Lucien said when I crossed the threshold into the foyer. “What the healer says. And if—if you need me for anything.”

Madja didn’t deign to answer Nesta until we were at the bottom of the steps. Lucien was already waiting in the sitting room, Mor still lingering in the dining room. Both of them rose to their feet.

Lucien muttered something about not needing to be monitored, and we all looked at him with raised brows. He just lifted his hands, claimed he wanted to freshen up, and headed down the hall.

The sound seemed to startle Elain, who swiftly set down her teacup. She rose to her feet, and Lucien shot to his. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “What—what was that?” “It—it was a tug. On the bond.” / Then Nesta was standing in the threshold. “What did you do.” The words were as sharp as a blade. Lucien looked to her, then over to me. A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Nothing,” he said, and again faced his mate. “I’m sorry—if that unsettled you.” Elain sidled toward Nesta, who seemed to be at a near-simmer. “It felt … strange,” Elain breathed. “Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib.” Lucien exposed his palms to her. “I’m sorry.”

“And I got to Elain’s end of it when she ran off.” “Did you sense anything?” “No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek.

Lucien’s attention slid behind me, to the various letters on different styles and makes of paper. That golden eye narrowed. As Tamlin’s emissary, he no doubt recognized them. “Let me guess: they said yes, but picking the location is now going to be the headache.” Mor frowned. “Any suggestions?” Lucien tied back his hair with a strap of brown leather. “Do you have a map?”

Lucien had indeed given us an initial location, and several more when those were struck down. But that was to be expected, Lucien had said, as if he’d arranged such things countless times. Rhys had only nodded in agreement—and approval.

Especially since Lucien had left before breakfast for a library across the city to look up anything in regard to fixing the wall, a task I’d been more than willing to hand over. I might have felt guilty for never giving him a proper tour of Velaris, but … he seemed eager. More than eager—he seemed to be itching to head into the city on his own.

Lucien, stationed by the front window, turned from watching the street. Monitoring it. A sword and dagger hung from his belt. No humor, no warmth graced his face—only fierce, grim determination.

“I’ll go.” Lucien was staring at Elain as he spoke. We all looked at him. Lucien shifted his focus to Rhys, to me. “I’ll go,” he repeated, rising to his feet. “To find this sixth queen.” / “What makes you think you could find her?” Rhys asked. Not rudely, but—from a commander’s perspective. Sizing up the skills Lucien offered against the risks, the potential benefits. “This eye …” Lucien gestured to the metal contraption. “It can see things that others … can’t. Spells, glamours … Perhaps it can help me find her. And break her curse.” He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap. “I’m not needed here. I’ll fight if you need me to, but …” He offered me a grim smile. “I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I’m willing to bet I’m no longer welcome at h—the Spring Court.” Home, he had almost said. “But I cannot sit here and do nothing. Those queens with their armies—there is a threat in that regard, too. So use me. Send me. I will find Vassa, see if she can … bring help.” / “You will be going into the human territory,” Rhys warned. “I can’t spare a force to guard you—” “I don’t need one. I travel faster on my own.” His chin lifted. “I will find her. And if there’s an army to bring back, or at least some way for her own story to sway the human forces … I’ll find a way to do that, too.” My friends glanced to each other. Mor said, “It will be—very dangerous.” A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.”

Lucien had indeed been studying all those maps lately. Perhaps at the quiet behest of whatever force had guided us all. My mate added, “Thank you.” Lucien shrugged. And it was that gesture alone that made me say at last, “Are you sure?” He only glanced at Elain, whose face was again a calm void while she traced a finger over the embroidery on the couch cushions. “Yes. Let me help in whatever way I can.”

I asked Lucien, “When do you want to leave?” “Tomorrow.” I hadn’t heard him sound so assertive in … a long time. “I’ll prepare for the rest of today, and leave after breakfast tomorrow morning.” He added to Rhys, “If that works for you.”

Cassian had given him free rein yesterday afternoon to loot his personal cache of weapons, though my friend had been economical about which ones he’d selected. The blade, plus a short sword, plus an assortment of daggers. A quiver of arrows and an unstrung bow were tied to his pack.

“You know precisely where you want Rhys to take you?” I asked at last. Lucien nodded, glancing to where my mate now waited by the front door. He’d bring Lucien to the edge of the human continent—to wherever Lucien had decided would be the best landing spot. No farther, Azriel had insisted. His reports indicated it was too watched, too dangerous. Even for one of our own. Even for the most powerful High Lord in history.

“It was time,” Lucien said quietly, giving me a squeeze. “For me to do something.”

Rhys extended a hand to Lucien. Lucien studied it—then my mate’s face. I could nearly see all the hateful words they’d spoken. Dangling between them, between that outstretched hand and Lucien’s own. But Lucien took Rhys’s hand. That silent offer of not only transportation.

Their gazes locked and held. / Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye—the longing and sadness.

“I—heard the rumors and assumed Lucien Vanserra would be residing there after … what happened.” She still didn’t look at Tamlin, who remained silent and brooding. “I managed to contact him a few days ago—asked him to send samples. He did—and did not tell you,” she added quickly to Rhysand, “because he did not want to raise your hopes. Not until I’d found a solution.” No wonder he’d been so eager to head alone into Velaris that day he’d gone to help us research. I shot a look at Rhys. Seems like Lucien can still play the fox. Rhys didn’t look at me, though his lips twitched as he replied, Indeed.

The Lady of Autumn’s favorite son—not only from Lucien’s goodness. But because he was the child she’d dreamed of having … with the male she undoubtedly loved.

His power is flame, though. They’ve mused Beron’s title could go to him. His mother’s family is strong—that was why Beron wanted a bride from their line. The gift could be hers.

Other than the fact that Lucien might be Helion’s sole heir.

“Lucien,” I breathed. “Who?” Drakon’s brows narrowed. “Oh, the male with the eye. No. He met up with them later on—told them where to go. To come now, actually. So pushy, you Prythian males.

Lucien, haggard and bloody, panting for breath. As if he’d run from the shore. His gaze settled on Elain, and he sagged a little.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, coming toward us. Spying the blood speckling Elain’s hands.

“Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but … yes, I’m in one piece.” A faint smile bloomed on Elain’s lips. But Lucien noticed that scorched patch of grass behind us and said, “I heard—what happened. I’m sorry for your loss. All of you.”

“I’ve got one hell of a story to tell you,” he said, squeezing me tightly. “And don’t be surprised if Vassa corners you as soon as the ships are sorted. And the sun sets.” “Is she really—” “Yes. But your father, ever the negotiator …” / “The human queens are still out there,” I said. Maybe I’d hunt them down. “Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.” “You sound like an acolyte.” Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” He cut me a wry look. “You’ll get along just fine.” I nudged him in the ribs. But Lucien again looked at that singed grass, and his blood-splattered face turned solemn. “He was a good man,” he said. “He loved you all very much.”

Elain fell into step beside me, peering at Lucien. He noticed it. “I heard you made the killing blow,” he said.

I said to him, “So where now? Off with Vassa?” I wondered if he’d heard of Tamlin’s role—the help he’d given us. A look at my friend showed me he had. Someone, perhaps my mate, had informed him. Lucien shrugged. “First—here. To help. Then …” Another glance at Elain. “Who knows?” I nudged Elain, who blinked at me, then blurted, “You could come to Velaris.” He saw all of it, but nodded graciously. “It would be my pleasure.”

Tamlin just shook his head, loathing simmering in his green eyes, and walked past. Not a word. I looked at Lucien in time to see the guilt, the devastation, flicker in that russet eye.

But Lucien remained standing with us as Tamlin found his place in the sitting room to our right. Did not glance at his friend even once. Lucien wasn’t foolish enough to beg for forgiveness.

I didn’t dare look through the ruined doorway to where Lucien now stood in the sitting room, close to Elain’s side

Lucien had remained behind to help with any of the human wounded still needing Fae healing

Another tidbit that Lucien had told us.

Send Lucien then. As our human emissary.

"Where's our dear friend Lucien?" "Off hunting for dinner."

"You brought presents". "It's Solstice tradition here, but isn't it?"

An uncontrollable instinct - for a male to eliminate any threat. But he remained sitting. Even as his fingers dug into the arms of his chair

Somehow in living with Jurian and Vassa in the manor, he'd run into Elain's former betrothed. And managed to leave the human lord breathing.

The corded muscle of his forearm shifted beneath the fine silk of his sapphire jacket.

"He is a good male", I repeated.

He raised his fist to the door, but the wooden slab pulled away before he could touch it. Lucien’s scarred, handsome face appeared, his golden eye whirring. “I thought I sensed someone else arriving.”

The male had grown up alongside Eris. Had dealt with Eris’s and Beron’s cruelty. Had his lover slaughtered by his own father. But Lucien had learned to keep his cool.

He had to give Lucien credit: the male was somehow able to move between his three roles—an emissary for the Night Court, ally to Jurian and Vassa, and liaison to Tamlin—and still dress immaculately.

“Easy,” Lucien said. Cassian snarled. “Easy,” Lucien repeated, and flame sizzled in his russet eye. The flame, the surprising dominance within it, hit Cassian like a stone to the head, knocking him from his need to kill and kill and kill whatever might threaten—

“No. But we need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit. “We need to tell him the news, and permanently station him at the Spring Court to contain any damage and to be our eyes and ears.”

Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing.

#acotar lucien #pro lucien vanserra #lucien supremacy #lucien acotar #pro lucien #lucien spell cleaver #high king lucien #lucienweek2023 #He's hot #He's smart #He's witty #He's cunning #He's entertaining #He's a friend to women #He's loyal to his mate #He's got a shit ton of power #He's brave #He learns from his mistakes #He's strong and muscular #He could carry a book on his own at this point

[sgiandubh]

You know nothing, Jon Snow

It's been a short night and a hot summer day in here. But I just received the last of the goods in my secondary inbox and am still unpacking, pondering and putting the data into context.

Work with me:

To begin somewhere, this is the exact content of the (in)famous Shamrock Anon submission to this blog, as delivered almost 23 hours ago:

Put yourselves in my shoes and read with me: "the Irish based drinks company (not the one accessible to fans) is solely owned by him and DF".

An Irish company? "Not accessible to fans?" Owned only by these two people and not her, on her turf? Now that could have been a nuke, because hello, where is the logic in all this, and who does that, and yes, why?

By the time I wrote my brief Shamrock Anon post, in the hope of luring this person to share more, the same message had already been delivered to at least two other shipper blogs. That would make three of us: the controversial newbie (I am not blind, but I am not cantankerous either), the respected veteran sleuth and Super Dispatch, with what I believe to be the intent of pushing an agenda of sorts. I chose not to publish Anon, because: 1) I needed more and yes, I needed to check and 2) I felt there was something bizarre with all this.

@luhafraser published it and I am truly relieved they did. I posted an update that apparently got even more people confused, and carried on with it. It did not take off the pressure (Anons begging, pleading and taunting went straight to the bin), but it gave me time to start looking.

It took me exactly two minutes and a half to find the Irish company's name and registration number, as visible and published on the FMN gin webpage (https://www.forgetmenot.com/ and always, always read the small print).

So long for "not accessible to fans", BS Anon:

Next stop, the Irish Company Registration Office's website (https://core.cro.ie/), where things went impeccably smooth. FMN Drinks is an Irish company, registered as "Limited", which would translate as Public Limited Company (plc) in the UK:

Getting more data required a paid search and I stopped to ponder. Really did. Price was a trifle, but that was not really my problem. So I sat on it during the night: it is something I always do when I find myself uneasy or unsure about something.

By noon today, local time, I mumbled "oh, what the hell", crossed myself and pushed send:

It took 15 minutes to get five of the documents and two more hours and 45 minutes to get the Letter of Status, certified by a living, breathing Irish public servant in that inbox:

So (in)famous Shamrock Anon, here is my answer to you:

If you think a company specialized in the distilling and rectifying of spirits, with 100 (one hundred) issued shares, worth 1 euro each and with a zero euro declared account balance since last December is proof of capitalist world domination, you are an idiot, Anon. You lured me down that rabbit hole with the preposterous idea that C was not a part of this PO box company - which she is, as one of its four appointed Directors - to try and prove shippers are stupid. Which we aren't.

At face value, this is nothing to write home about. But I said yesterday the devil is in the details and was not disappointed, because you clearly are sloppy (again?) Anon and boy, you do have an untrained eye. It's almost like me when prompted to read somebody's blood test results, you know?

I am now faced with a dilemma: I either buy a cork board, thread and pins and start a trip to Cuckooland, trying to navigate my way across trademarks and trails of companies, and such other niceties that are boring as death. Or, I look at this completely uncalled for embarrassment of riches and let the dots connect themselves, in time.

I always steered my course according to this French proverb: dans le doute, s'abstenir. When in doubt, do nothing. Making sense of a document posted on a real estate company website is one thing. Publishing such documents, which are readily available for the private use of anyone with a credit card, and prematurely discussing them is a personal red line I am not willing to cross.

It would be pushing an agenda and, especially right now (*promo*), writing the script. Circus might be in town, but I am not one of the clowns.

Oh, and Anon: a company is an evolving entity people get into, then get out of and even maybe get back to, at some point in time. A business project is by no means any sort of evidence of relationship/marital status.

#Anon

[owlespresso]

vere tutors you on the sacred art of the handjob. spice beneath the cut. obviously. tags: handjob

Thank u @xvi-the-tower for the advice

"Of course we're using lube. What are we, animals?" The corner of Vere's lip draws up as he sends you a look bordering on exasperation and disgust.

You blink at him, slowly and blearily. This is the last time you take him up on an offer for anything, even if it's free. "And don't answer that. I don't want to hear your smart mouth right now."

"...Right," you mumble.

You're perched on your knees between his wide open legs. Looming over his laid out, prone form. He's completely open. Belly-up. Taut abdomen and lean chest and wide hips. It's a vulnerable position, one that you suppose should give you a feeling of...authority? Dominance?

You just wind up feel out of your depth, set in between the open vise of his thick thighs, just waiting for them to snap shut. Dig snug into you like the teeth of a bear trap.

"Lube's in the nightstand. Go get it." He nods his head towards the lacquered nightstand. The shiny russet waves of his hair fan out on the pillows and halo his thin, handsome face.

Grateful for the chance to move, you scuttle over and open the top drawer, retrieving a dainty, but elaborate glass bottle. Popping the cork, you lather a generous amount onto a trembling hand.

"Awh," he coos in faux sympathy, fluttering his eyelashes at you. "Are you nervous, little lamb?"

"No," you mumble, and settle in between his spread, naked thighs. He lounges back, radiating disinterest as you stare down his cock. A pretty, curved thing which stands proud against his stomach.

"Well? It's not going to bite you," Vere, growing impatient, seals his hand around your wrist and pulls you forward. "Though, I might if you keep dragging this out. Have you never seen a cock, before?"

You don't answer that. Cautiously, you press your palm against the head of his cock and tentatively rub it. Immediately, he heaves a contented sigh, head falling back onto that audacious mound of pillows.

"Take it in your hand," Vere instructs breathily. He's still staring at you, through half-lidded eyes.

You listen. Your wet fingers curl around the heat of him.

"Up and down, now," he says, and you start a tentative pace. He's hot in your hand. A little heavier than you thought he'd be. Enough girth to probably hurt if he put it inside you. "Faster," he murmurs, and you oblige. "Faster—right there, lamb."

He rolls his hips into the rhythm, droplets of lube spattering into your chest, your lap. Onto the nice silken beneath you. It dribbles down your wrist and your forearm, all the way up to your elbow.

"Tch, messy. You'll be—aah—cleaning the sheets after this," he says, but there's no bite to it. His voice is but a tender, lavish sigh. The sweet sound prised from his lips by the unskilled touch of your hand. It strikes you, then, how strange and thrilling it is to have such a powerful creature at your mercy. Writhing and moaning because of you.

"When you start to feel friction, add more lube," Vere instructs. "Or just spit on it, if you don't feel like stopping." You make a face at that, and he laughs. "Really? Your hand is already on my dick. It's a little too late to be a prude."

"I'm not a prude," the space between your eyebrows wrinkles in irritation. You debate on pointing out how much of a pillow princess he's being, but quickly decide that withholding his release could easily cost you your life. You've seen him kill more people for less.

"Whatever," Vere snorts. "Just put more on. I don't want you touching me with sandpaper hands." You pour more lube onto your hand and resume working. He tilts back onto the cushions like a spoiled cat, tail curling with each dulcet noise. His cheeks are flushed, rosen all the way down to his sleek shoulders. Long lashes fanning against his cheeks.

The rhythm of his hips stutters and begins to break as he climbs towards his orgasm, chases it, nips at its heels

"Twist your wrist," he pants huskily. "Just a little bit—"

He comes with his eyes closed. White fangs peek out from beneath painted red lips. He twists with the pleasure, hot cum spurting over your hand, dripping down your wrist and onto the bedding below. You milk him through it, eyes wide, fixated, and fascinated as he endures the throes of his pleasure. You persist until he's batting your hand away with pursed lips.

"Don't get too enthusiastic! One handjob and you think you have the right..." Vere complains, voice lowering into little grumbles you don't bother to catch. You watch him as he falls back, track the steadying rise and fall of his chest as he regains his bearings. It's silent, besides the soft sound of his breathing.

"How was that?" you ask after a few minutes. He huffs, amused. One of his eyes cracks open.

"Still second rate. But improving."

#oz write #touchstarved talkin #vere/reader

[evita-shelby]

While the moms are away

For @justrainandcoffee alfieverseray

Allie and Rose are her creations, Diane and Eva are mine

Cw: dad's playing dress up with their daughters, mentions of past cross dressing and slight mentions of couples sexual life

He adores his children, his daughters especially, but they took great delight in pushing his limits.

Eva usually took her to her playdates or hosted them. After all, his wife was charming and interesting ... and female.

She could wear costume jewelry and make up and a cheap feather boa as pink as the rest of Diane’s room.

Tommy Shelby would lose his next election if anyone even heard of this.

But he is not alone in his torment. On the other side of the tiny French table in an equally fancy tiny stool sits Alfred Solomons wearing the pink derby hat Eva never even wore once and painted with Eva’s favorite red lipstick. You know that one that had a matron at a charity luncheon call a whorish shade of red.

“Allie, sweetheart, you missed a spot.” Tommy knows he’s playing with fire, but Solomons pointed out Tommy had ear piercings and now Eva’s hoops hung from his ears.

He once pretended to be a girl so Greta could sneak him into her dormitory when they were teenagers and her father sent her to a catholic private school. For several weeks the matrons in charge believed he was Thomasine Shelby, cousin of Ada Shelby visiting from Cork.

And now he is plotting his revenge while they wait for Eva and Rose to return from some ladies charity bazaar they organized for her reelection campaign.

Solomons only glares at him murderously but bites his tongue in front of their daughters. Their strange friendship and enmity is only allowed to show in subtle things to prevent the children, the girls in particular, from hearing swear words in any language or see either father pointing a gun at each other again.

“Di, Princess, didn’t your mummy get you that wig at the costume shop?” Alfie asks with such a shit eating grin that only makes Tommy hate him more. “The blonde one you asked for because you wanted to be Rapunzel for Halloween?”

“Alfie, I will tell Eva to tell your wife about her Russian toy if you don’t stop.” Tommy warns, well, vows as the girls fit the long wig on his head.

Alfie knew what toy he meant, he’d heard of it from Tatiana as they made a change to their plans after the orgy. Tommy has been mocked by him for letting Eva fuck him like that ever since.

“Tell her, I dare you.” The Jewish Gangster smirked. Tommy wasn’t sure if the Solomons were as adventurous in bed as he and his witch were or Rose was not into dominating her husband like Eva was.

Tommy then decides it's just easier to shove him into the pond again even if Alfie drags him down with him. “Girls, how about we stop playing princess tea party and have a picnic by the pond again.”

A/N: the Russian Toy is the strap on Tatiana gave Eva in a Dull Party

#eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x oc #diane shelby #allie solomons #alfie x rose #rose coldwell #dad!alfie solomons #dad!tommy shelby #solomons and shelby

[agonzovi]

[1] Dawn in the rest

Yellow Diamond centric

cowboy bellow au :)

(---)

"That's great to know, Missus— ah, what's your name again?"

The inside of this building is horrid. It's a singular room, painted with dominant shades of white and grey, accentuated only because red wine bottles were stacked on a monochrome shelf.

Mrs. Davis, the lady who introduced herself to Yannick, was dressed similarly in aesthetics, with her fancy white suit and red ascot tie. (Immediately written off as a psychopath in Yannick's mental book.)

"Yannick."

"Missus Yanick, I'm sure you have better things to tend to—"

Mrs. Davis pours the wine into her glass, her black claws curling around its base from the stem, and the wine is placed back on the painted mahogany desk with a hard clink.

If it wasn't the fact that wine bottle was branded by some bigshot company (Who's owner is unfortunately facing Yannick, in complete coincidence.) —Yannick could have mistakenly pinned it as some poor homeless person's blood.

"—seeing as you're just a nomad, I certainly won't hold you for any longer."

Yannick notices how the platinum blonde punctuates the first part, uttered with a patronizing drawl; or perhaps this lady just has a transatlantic accent? who knows.

'Why am I here again?'

Oh right. Because apparently, approaching private property with full intent of stealing was illegal.

And here she was facing the owner of that property, extremely wealthy, (surely, she wouldn't notice a few bottles gone, right?) and strangely lenient with her crime, which if Yannick is guessing, an attempt of mercy that's just another manipulation tactic to seem threatening. Yannick's gotten through worse, and couldn't stand to care less.

"I must warn you, buttercup. If I or anyone who works here witnesses you near this part of town again, There will be consequences."

Mrs. Davis' tall figure stands from behind her desk, looming over Yannick menacingly, She takes note of how Mrs. Davis is a good probably 6 inches taller than Yannick's already lengthy figure, and how her glinting teeth are bared through a faux smile emphasized by thick black lipstick.

those are some strangely sharp teeth.

"Are we crystal, Missus Yannick?"

Yannick hasn't said a word so far yet, she's just sat there in a minute streak of staring detachedly and it would probably be socially appropriate to end that streak.

"Crystal."

Mrs. Davis' teeth-smile contorts into a satisfied curve on her face, strangely perfect, absolutely fake.

(---)

"Do not take improper care of my horse!"

Blood-red wine bottle in hand, and also, blood-red lead rope in hand, (What the fuck is Mrs. Davis' obsession with red things?) Yannick runs off into the sunset. With Mrs. Davis' steed, a majestic pure white thing she didn't mean to steal aside the wine.

It was the closest mount she'd taken because Jasper— her horse, wasn't there when she ran outside to escape Mrs. Davis brandishing a pistol, Yannick had stolen the wine right off the desk and blasted out of the pyschologically torturous setting.

The sentence she screamed when Yannick was far off with her horse was the most emotion she had heard from Mrs. Davis, and Yannick doesn't think thats a good sign.

Compiling these events, Stealing a mount and a bottle from a rich lady with terrifying power and who'd already acquired a history of trying to end her life judging from the flying bullets, She was undoubtedly going to be hunted down.

The sun is setting further, and there are dust trails behind her, she pops the cork off the wine and drinks it straight. Holy shit, that is very good wine.

However, Yannick still needs a plan to escape being hunted down for her head, and precisely decides to go straight and hope she finds something.

The horse throws her off.

#blue diamond #bellow diamond #white diamond #yellow diamond #cowgals #steven universe #su au #su #steven universe future #suf #this is a cowboy au i have no excuse and im trying to relearn writing

[andorerso]

Rebelcaptain Trees for @captastra: Fantasy AU (with bonus mutual pining) (reposted because I figured out the problem)

“Take off your tunic,” Cassian said as soon as the door closed behind them.

Jyn’s eyebrows rose up to her hairline as she watched him carefully place his staff in the corner, ignoring the throbbing pain in her shoulder where the star-damned dragon had scorched her. Normally, Bodhi’s healing magic could take care of that in a matter of seconds, but he was off visiting his mother on the other side of the realm, so it’d be a few days before the injury stopped hurting. A little healing balm will do wonders though; it might not even leave a scar.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“I saw the dragon scorch you, Jyn.” He lifted his head to give her an unimpressed look as he rummaged through their medicines and potions, his cape fluttering with movement. “So take off your tunic, I’ll treat you.”

“Ugh,” Jyn groaned but complied. It was better not to argue with Cassian when he got like this, all doom and gloom. He rarely yelled when he was angry, but his silence and disapproving glares spoke louder than if he was shouting. She would rather avoid that if she could, even if the situation was already heading that way.

But when he turned around with the healing balm in his hand, he stopped short and stared like he’d seen a ghost. For a moment, Jyn didn’t get it. She even looked behind her to see that there weren’t actually any spirits in the room with them, because by the stars, one could never know. But no, she realized as she turned back, he was staring at her. He was staring because she was standing in front of him in just her trousers and breastband and not much else. A flush colored her cheeks as she resisted the urge to fidget.

Stars damn it.

Thankfully Cassian shook himself out of it before it got too awkward, his eyes darting away from her chest and to the bottle in his hands. He unplugged the cork and stood in front of her.

Except that wasn’t much better.

Because now he was so close, she could smell the earthy aroma he always brought with him, could feel his warmth envelop her in a warm hug, could feel his breath dance on her cheek. Jyn tried very very hard to concentrate on her breathing to keep it steady, in and out, in and out, but goosebumps rose on her arm anyway that had nothing to do with the cold.

Cassian thought it did.

“I’ll be quick,” he promised as he got to work. As soon as his fingers touched her bare skin, she was lost. She barely felt the stinging burn of her injury anymore; all her senses were dominated by Cassian, the rest of the world falling away. Her eyes fluttered closed, her fists clenching and nails digging into her palm as she fought to urge to let out a quiet sigh.

Embarrassing. It’d been too long since she laid with someone if a mere touch of a man could bring her such pleasure. Which was quite true, actually. Now that she was thinking about it, she hadn’t been with anyone since she and Cassian crossed paths a year ago. She didn’t want to think too hard about what that meant, but deep down, she already knew anyway.

No one else seemed to live up to him since they met. No one she looked at twice or wanted or even thought about wanting. Her thoughts, her gaze, her attention always wandered back to Cassian in the end.

Something had to give, Jyn thought as her eyes opened again, taking deep breaths to steady herself. She couldn’t go on like this anymore, wanting him and pushing it down at the same time.

“You shouldn’t have rushed into the fight like that,” Cassian told her, oblivious to her inner turmoil. His voice was quiet, his eyes trained on what he was doing. There it was; she’d been expecting it. Jyn rolled her eyes, her annoyance momentarily outweighing her longing for him.

“Spare me the sermon, Cassian. I know what I’m doing.”

He looked up at her for a brief moment, his eyes flashing. “So do I. I told you I had it handled.”

“You needed a partner.” You needed me. She didn’t say it.

“Fire magic doesn’t work on a fire dragon, Jyn,” he pointed out, and that one snapped whatever thin patience she was still holding onto.

“That goes both ways, Cassian! Fire also doesn’t work on me.”

Well, that wasn’t completely true. She wasn’t immune to fire, but she was far more resistant than Cassian with his ice magic, or any other ordinary person. Fire simply didn’t damage her as much. And yes, he had a point; his ice magic was far more effective on the dragon they were fighting than hers which must have just felt like light tickling for the creature. But the dragon’s fire was also far more effective on him than on her. This could have been a much more serious and painful injury, or worse, if he’d been the one who was scorched. Which was why he needed her.

They were a team. He fought the dragon, and she protected him. It’d always been like that. She didn’t understand why he was resisting it now.

“You’re not immune to fire, Jyn,” he said, a dangerous note in his tone. Finally done with his task, he pulled away and carelessly threw the bottle to one of the beds. Even in the circumstances, Jyn mourned the loss of his hands on her skin. “It can still kill you if you’re not careful.”

“But it didn’t because I know what I’m doing. I don’t understand! Why are you suddenly treating me like a child?”

There had to be more to it. The way he was looking at her now, face withdrawn, eyes wide, hands shaking… He was worried about her, that much was clear, but why? The fear on his face didn’t make sense for the injury she suffered. He’d seen her in far graver circumstances before.

There was more this and she just had to push him a little.

“What is it, Cassian?” she whispered, far gentler than she’d been a second ago.

Cassian’s eyes briefly closed, a defeated sigh on his lips. “Chirrut had a vision,” he began, his voice very quiet. Jyn waited patiently, watching as he stared at the tacky rugs on the floor, clearly struggling with how best to say this. Or perhaps he just didn’t want to say it aloud at all. Avoidance was the easiest way to cope, Jyn would know. But she wouldn’t let him weasel out of this one. If Chirrut had an important vision, she needed to know. “He said… He said he saw your death. By a dragon.”

Finally, Cassian looked up at her, and the fear in his eyes now made perfect sense. Jyn could only stare for a second, heart in her throat, unsure how to react to the possibility of her impending doom. That was always in the cards for her, for all of them, roaming the realm and fighting monsters, killing bandits, helping villagers. But it had never been as clear as it was now, her own death staring her in the face.

And it was terrifying. With a painful twist of her heart, she realized she wasn’t ready for this.

“By a fire dragon?” Jyn asked, the first thing that came to her mind. Her voice was a little strained. Cassian gave her an unimpressed grimace.

“Jyn… I don’t know, he didn’t say. By a dragon.”

“Chirrut’s visions don’t always come true,” she pointed out, trying to reassure him as much as herself. Chirrut was an incredible seer, the best of their time, but even he was fallible. More often than not, although he didn’t like to advertise that. The reason was simple. The future was ever-changing, every decision creating a new fork in the road, a million paths and possibilities stretching out ahead of them. That was all Chirrut saw. Possibilities that may or may not come true.

Apparently, one of these paths could lead to her death at the hands of a dragon. Another path could mean she’d die in bed when she was 90.

“Yes,” Cassian said, his voice insistent, “so if we want to make sure this one doesn’t come to pass, we should make sure you stay far, far away from dragons, don’t you think?”

He might have a point, she admitted begrudgingly. She was reckless, but she wasn’t a fool. It was better not to tempt fate, not unless there was no other choice. But…

“How did you expect me to know that if you weren’t going to tell me about this?”

Cassian rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes again as he shifted on his feet. “We wanted to. I wanted to. But Chirrut said the less you knew about this, the better. Something about a self-fulfilling prophecy. I don’t know.”

Yet he went against Chirrut’s advice anyway. Jyn herself wasn’t sure if that was wise or not, but she could only feel grateful for it. She’d always preferred cruel honesty over a kind lie. And how could she trust him if he was keeping secrets from her?

“Alright,” Jyn nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’ll stay away from dragons. On one condition. You stay away from them too.”

“What? Why?” Cassian’s mouth pulled into a confused frown. It was honestly a little laughable that he didn’t get it.

“Where you go, I go.” She gave him a small smile, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. “I’m not going to let you run off to fight dragons without me. So if you want me to stay away from them, you’ll have to follow my example. That’s the deal.”

“I…” Cassian trailed off, then let out an amused huff. His eyes were fond, sparkling as he looked at her.

Stars… He was beautiful.

Soon. She would tell him soon. But not today.

“Alright, yes. You have a deal. No more dragons.”

“No more dragons,” Jyn echoed, her heart beating a little easier now. They were in this together, all the way.

#rebelcaptain #dailyrebelcaptain #rebelcaptaintrees #captastra #therebelcaptainnetwork #rogue one #my fics #*rebelcaptain #*graphics #one of the pictures was corrupted or smg #i remade it and it seems to be okay now #sorry for posting it again it was just bugging me that it didn't show up

[sunnytarg]

Hi! I know it might seems weird but could you maybe write something for Daemon with a slightly dom!reader? 🥺💜

I’m still new to writing Daemon so I’m sorry that this is short. I’m still trying to get a grasp on how to write him. I hope you like it, though! ♥️

Daemon loves to be in control. Most likely because his life is pretty chaotic. So in bed he’d probably take control most of the time.

Until someone came around and showed him how good it feels to give up a little bit of control.

He’d have to be eased into switching roles. One night his lover would flip their positions over, playfully pinning his hands above his head as they ride him. Laying back and watching his his lover take pleasure from him rather than have him give it to them makes him groan. He loves it.

If his lover started to become more demanding in bed he’d only cork an eyebrow and go along with it. He’s being told he can’t fuck them until he makes them cum with his mouth first? Fine by him. It’s barely a challenge.

Perhaps his lover brings out some rope and suggests to tie him up. He’d only reply with a smirk and snarky comment, most likely along the lines of , “I’m surprised you haven’t done that yet.”

When his lover has to go somewhere and tells him he can’t touch himself or cum until they return he contemplates fucking with them and doing it anyways but he can’t stop the way his cock hardens slightly at being given the command.

Depending on what it is, he goes from snarky remarks and smirks to whining and groans, unable to think clearly. He had always been to more dominant partner in bed. He didn’t realize how good it could feel to give someone else that role and do as they say.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd smut #house of the dragon smut #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen #daemon Targaryen x oc

[16woodsequ]

Sunday Steve - Day Seven

Things that would be new or unfamiliar to Steve in the 21st century, either due to the time period he grew up in, or his social-economic status and other such factors.

Day Seven: Deodorant

For a long time body odour was not considered a problem for men. It was considered manly, and deodorants and antiperspirants (invented in 1888 and early 1900s respectively) were marketed to women.

Some solutions to body odour before deodorant became more mainstream in 1910s were excessive washing and perfume. To protect clothes women used dress shields (cotton or rubber pads placed in armpit areas). Scented talcum powders were another popular deodorizer.

Men started to be targeted by antiperspirant companies in the 30s, targeting male body odour as negative and unemployable. "In 1938, it was estimated that 60% of women and 20% of men in the United States used a product to control underarm odour" (Link).

Early deodorant formulas had to be suspended in acid. "Formulas of early deodorants damaged clothes and irritated skin" (Link). There were some health concerns in the early 20th century but these died away by the 30s.

Deodorant came in powders. liquid, creams, and eventually sticks, roll-ons, and aerosols.

Powders were "packaged in tins with a perforated lid" and put on with puffs.

The only form of antiperspirants in the 30s was liquid. The liquid was kept in glass jars, with plastic lids (early form used corks).

“Liquid deodorants were either applied to a rag and rubbed in or poured into the palm and splashed on. [...] Men also used cologne to cover up body smells but these were generally very expensive.” (Link)

Liquid deodorants/antiperspirants could be applied with a cloth or sponge. Later forms had an applicator built into the lid.

Above: Applying Check Deodorant with a sponge applicator.

Pastes and creams were the preferred form for early deodorants. They were less irritating, although sometimes greasy, especially in the 1910s before the formula improved.

The first successful antiperspirant cream was created in 1936, but it was less effective than liquid antiperspirant. Even so, it became very popular by 1945 and creams dominated the market.

Early stick deodorants used lipstick bases, so they were much smaller and 'stick' shaped than the typical deodorant shape today. From the recipe (found here) it seems this sticks were similar to today's deodorant sticks, or maybe chapsticks. Evaporation was an issue and the sticks had to be kept in airtight containers.

Sticks began to get bigger, into what we would recognise in the 60s.

1945 Lor-Odo, a deodorant stick, sold for 50 cents.

Roll-ons appeared in 1952 and the first commercially successful roll-on deodorant was created in 1956, so Steve wouldn't know this method. Same with aerosols which came out around the 60s.

As for price, this image gives a good idea for prices of deodorant products in Steve's time.

1937 Hush Cream, Instant Hush Liquid Deodorant, Hush Stick Deodorant and Personal Deodorant Powder for sanitary pads. (Link).

This inflation calculator says 10¢ is $2.14 in today's money and 50¢ is $10.68. For comparison, the cost of a gallon of gas was 10¢, a loaf of bread was 9¢ and toothpaste was 35¢. (Link)

Wrap Up

So would Steve have used some kind of deodorant/antiperspirant? Maybe. He wouldn't have started wearing it until the 30s for sure, but he may have bought it, if he could afford it.

I am not an expert but I feel the cost of deodorant would have been a stretch (especially if we think he was using baking soda for toothpaste as per our last post).

But considering how cleanliness and body odour began to be viewed in the 30s—and considering that Bucky clearly took pride in taking care of his appearance—Steve may have bought deodorant when he could. The possibility grows later into the 30s and 40s.

If he bought deodorant he would likely be used to cream or liquid deodorants, as these were very common.

Perhaps Bucky cared more about deodorant than Steve, and Steve bought some for Bucky as a gift when he could. Or, Steve used it himself periodically to hopefully seem more presentable to employers who might overlook him just on principle.

But it is also possible that Steve didn't bother with deodorant. After all, only 20% of men used it in 1938 and it would stretch his budget.

However, he may have used it on the USO tour. I can see them deciding Captain America needs to smell nice when smoozing with investors.

Either way, the 21st century's approach to zero body odour wouldn't entirely surprise to Steve—since the roots of that were developing in the 30s, but it would still be an adjustment to learn that men almost universally use some form of deodorant nowadays.

Sunday Steve Master Post

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Saint-Tropez Houses are minimal residences located in Provence, France, designed by John Pawson. This region is characterized by its rich and natural surroundings, dominated by parasol pines, vineyards, and cork oak trees. Notably, a particularly significant cork oak played a central role in shaping the design of a recent project on a 1.7-hectare plot.

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