#that's my nickname in the family because I set up this account | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dejwrld · 25 days

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⤷‧₊˚ you + the eldest brother of the kids you babysit = a late night cam show

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — female reader, female anatomy described, female anatomy described, usage of y/n, cam work mentioned, cam boy!dabi, dabi has multiple piercings, fingering, squirting, consensual recording, dabi calls reader a slut and bitch once, mentions of black male, dacryphilia, told in third pov, mdni

a repost from my old account.

Being home from university for winter break was a huge burden for Dabi. Not only did he have to deal with being the black sheep within his family, but he had to set up a quite particular schedule to entertain his ten thousand subscribers on the popular camboy website. He figured to do cam shows when the house was down for bedtime or when he knew no one was home. However, with his family all crowding the traditional Japanese home for the holidays, he’s been abandoning the subscribers that tipped him wonderful just for stroking his cock on camera.

The thing is, Dabi didn’t really need the money. He came from pure old money. It just stroked his ego reading the comments people said about him. From complimenting his toned torso and pecks that were accessorized with a nipple piercing to adoring his Lorum piercing on his pretty cock. It made his ears grow so hot like an excited dog getting ready to play with its owners. He adored the ego stroke of what he did, but his gloomy eyes didn’t light up in excitement seeing his bank account grow. It was as if the money didn’t phase him. He didn’t spend much of the money on himself, usually buying his siblings’ stuff. Which usually was more of him throwing the item at them and mumbling how he remembered they mentioned to him that they needed or wanted it.

He even took it upon himself to give a gift to his younger siblings’ babysitter (Y/N). A beautiful young woman around his age who’s been the family babysitter for years now. Dabi never paid attention to the girl. Giving her a sly wave before slamming his home door to go hang out with his friends. However, it all changed when she went on the annual family trip with them one hot summer.

Perhaps, Dabi should have concluded that something was going to happen when the two were stuck sharing a hotel room due to a hotel mistake. A night that was filled with stealing miniature vodka bottles from the hotel bar when the bartender was occupied led to a breathless night of Dabi taking the pretty babysitter’s virginity. parted ways due to college, Dabi expected the girl to become clingy. Who wouldn’t become clingy to the guy who took their virginity? But she didn’t.

However, Dabi did notice something. He noticed that her skirts got shorter. Her tops got tighter. She always would let her fingertips graze against his hand when they were in the kitchen together. Her eyes even lit up with so much lust when she saw he was home. She was driving him so crazy because he couldn’t read her.

That was until he was in the kitchen munching on the dinner his mother cooked for the family before she and his father went on a date, (Y/N) was sliding her phone across the counter looking at him with such an intense stare. Dabi’s cold glare traveled down to the phone screen and he nearly choked on the rice ball that was in his mouth.

“You should really not use your most common fuckin’ nickname for your account,” (Y/N) chuckle as she looked at him.

Dabi swallowed the food he was chewing and quickly exited the website that once had his profile right on it. He even saw that she had an account on the website, assuming that she was only there to view the content and not do what he does.

“At first, I didn’t believe it. It’s just a coincidence,” (Y/N) explained. “But that piercing gave it all away,” She soon added as her alluring eyes traveled down to his crotch.

“Okay, I stroke my dick for fuckin’ strangers, now what?” Dabi asked as he stepped closer to her. “Going to snitch off to my parents?” His head tilted slightly, challenging the babysitter in front of him.

“Yes.” (Y/N) bluntly admitted.

Dabi’s fist clenched tightly, “Seriously (Y/N)? Don’t be such a bitch.” He uttered.

“Maybe I am one. Your father will be so upset hearing how his son gets an ego stroke by stroking his dick for strangers on the internet,” (Y/N) says as her hands went up to toy with the necklace around Dabi’s neck.

“Well, what do you want for you to keep your mouth shut?” Dabi asked. “Money? Shoes? Another necklace?” He motioned to the diamond pendant necklace around her neck. A gift he gave her for being such a good babysitter for his siblings.

Once that question left Dabi’s lips, he watched as her lips curled into a smirk. Her fingers dragged down his chest in a slow manner as she batted her lashes at him. She stopped at the string of his grey Nike sweats, “I want to be featured on your show.” She says.

“No,” Dabi says. “You’re not being in my show, I never do collabs. I won’t start now because of a brat trying to blackmail me.” He went back to eating, leaving her pouting at him.

“You’re really okay with your parents seeing this? Especially your dad,” She asked.

Dabi throws his hands up in the air in a careless manner. His shoulders shrugging before he’s speaking once again, “Guess he’ll see what he gave me huh?” He chuckled as he placed his plate in the sink and walked by (Y/N).

Her mouth gaped open at his comment before she chased after him like a lost puppy. “Toya, it would bring you so much more money though.” She whines as she follows him up the stairs.

“Why do you want to be on my show anyway?” He asked. “Wouldn’t want to tarnish your innocent image right?”

“Your shows are always filmed neck down, not like anyone would see my face,” (Y/N) blurted out.

As the dark-haired male caught on to what she said, he turned around to face her. His back pressed against his room door eyeing her up and down. He took in the way her plaid skater skirt moved as she switched her weight from one leg to another and the way he could tell she was wearing a push-up bra to show off her perfectly sized breasts. His teeth grazed at his lower lip as he was mentally weighing out the pros and cons of it. For her to notice that he always streamed from the neck down, she must have been a daily viewer.

“Fine. But if you utter any of this to my parents…” His voice trailed off. “I’ll tell them about when Shoto had to go to the emergency room because your irresponsible ass gave him something he’s allergic to.”

“How’d you know that?” She asked, her arms crossed over her chest pushing her chest forward.

Dabi’s eyes traveled down to look at her chest before he gave her a smirk. “I have my ways, now are you ready or not?”

“What? You want to do it now?” (Y/N) questioned.

“I was planning on streaming now that everyone is asleep and I have about an hour before my parents return,” He said before he twisted the doorknob to his door and pushed it open. His head motioned for her to come in. (Y/N) would give him a cheeky smile before skipping into his room like a child going into a toy store. Not knowing that Dabi was about to practically ruin her pretty little cunt for his subscribers.

He didn’t really let anyone in his room, it was his space. He was very protective of his space. The blue neon lights hardly helped with lighting in the room, which Dabi didn’t mind. It added a unique atmosphere and view to the way he stroked his cock for thousands of people online. The walls of his room were decorated with covers of vintage Rolling Stone and Playboy Bunny magazines. In the corner of his room, he had a record player with a neat pile of vinyl records. (Y/N) was expecting anything out from the camera view on his desk that had his multiple computer monitors would be messy, but he took her by shock. She sat on his bed staring around his room while Dabi sat at his desk going to the website.

“I want to finger you,” Dabi bluntly admitted, his eyes never leaving his computer monitor. “I think us having full-blown sex will be too much for my subscribers considering I only do solo content,” He soon explained.

“Don’t you think that’ll be pretty difficult?” (Y/N) questioned. “Your viewers won’t even be able to see it fully,” she huffs crossing her arms over her chest.

Dabi didn’t even have to turn to look at her to know that she was a pouting mess behind him. He logged into his account announcing that he’ll be starting a stream in about three minutes. His ears growing hot seeing the number of people liking his status update despite him just posting it. “Just take off your panties and come sit on my lap.” He said as he pushed himself a little from under his desk.

(Y/N) eyebrows raised at his comment before she stood up. Her hands up her plaid skater skirt she wore to tug down the lace panties she wore. She throws them over her shoulder before going over to Dabi’s lap, comfortably sitting down as if she sat on his lap multiple times before. Dabi’s fingertips traced alongside her thighs as he sat in the large gaming chair. Such a small intimate moment caused a chill to travel down (Y/N)’s spine.

“This still doesn’t solve our problem that they won’t be able to see you fingering me,” (Y/N) argued.

“You never shut up, do you?” Dabi asked, her remarks were causing the boy to grow annoyed.

“Only if you stuff my mouth with something,” She snapped back giving him a smirk.

Dabi chuckles at her comment, leaning over to start the stream. It was a one-minute count down until the stream would be broadcast to the world, “Lay your back to my chest, pull your knees up and place your legs on the armrest of the chair.” He urged. “Or just place your feet on my knees and keep your legs open for the world can see,” Dabi says. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

(Y/N) glanced at the thirty-second mark on the screen before she does what she was told. Her cunt was now exposed for his subscribers to see, her gold anklet reflected at her on the screen. Looking at herself in such a provocative way turned her on. Despite you could only see from the neck down, it was a wonderful view to both her and Dabi. Her eyes filled with lust and her pussy throbbed to be touched. She could feel Dabi’s breath tickle at her earlobe and seeing his devious smirk caused her to swallow the harsh lump that formed in the middle of her throat.

“Look how good you look,” Dabi whispered in her ear. “You’re probably going to steal the show from me, doll,” He adds before a little tick noise could be heard as the stream was counting down from ten. “Make sure you don’t moan my real name like you did last time I had you like this during that family trip,” His fingers inched slowly and slow in between her plump thighs.

The show was now live for all his subscribers to see. Dabi was about to finger fuck (Y/N) for his subscribers and she couldn’t wait for that to happen. The pretty babysitter felt the harsh slap at her cunt when the countdown had finally hit zero. The tingle her cunt felt at the sudden slap caused her to be soaked. Dabi’s fingers swiped at her puffy lips collecting her wetness and she could feel his teeth nibbling at the bridge of her ear. “I slapped that cunt of yours and you grew so fuckin’ wet. You like it when I do that?”

“Yes,” Her words stumble out in an intoxicating way. “Please touch me some more,”

The pad of Dabi’s index and middle finger rubbed at her sensitive bud in a circular motion. The tipping notification was blowing up on his profile, but he ignored it. He wanted to see her fucked out just by his fingers. “Like this, doll?” Dabi questioned.

“Or like this?” His two fingers entered her sopping entrance without a warning.

(Y/N)’s mouth gasped open at the sudden action. Her hands grabbed at Dabi’s wrist. “Like that,” She cooed. Her eyes fluttered closed as if she was put into a trance.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet all for me, may have to fuck you until you’re seeing stars after this,” Dabi commented as he begin to move his two fingers inside of her. Her wetness pooled into his lap staining the grey sweatpants he wore.

The audience was loving every second of what was going on as the comments were moving so quickly that Dabi couldn’t even read them. His mind was making sure that (Y/N) felt the wrath of her silly con of trying to blackmail him. His fingers thrust inside her at a pace just like she liked him. A pace she was familiar with when the two shared a moment together during the Todoroki family trip.

“Fuck—” (Y/N) stuttered out as her back pressed against Dabi’s toned chest. Her head fell back as her eyes lolled in the back of her head. The pleasurable feeling of Dabi’s slender digits stuffing her pretty cunt caused her to quiver. Her eyes watered as if she was enduring so much pain, but just she was just enduring the intoxicating pleasure of Dabi fingering her.

“Look at them pretty lil tears.” Dabi cooed in her ear as his finger tugged out of her wet pussy. His fingers were coated with her slick as he rubbed at her clit once again. “I just fingered you and you’re already cryin’ out like a desperate lil slut.”

“Screw you.” (Y/N) spat at him as she was panting, her hips bucked upon his wet fingers for more friction upon her throbbing cunt.

“You’re telling me this as you’re bucking against my hand like a poor little wolf in heat.” Dabi slapped at her cunt once again before his fingers disappeared into her pussy again.

The only sound that bounced off Dabi’s room walls were the moans that tumbled off (Y/N)’s lips and the pornographic sound of Dabi’s fingers aggressively thrusting inside her cunt. At this point, the young babysitter soaked Dabi’s lap as she could feel her orgasm pooling at the pit of her stomach. Her back arching slightly off his lap just for his hand that wasn’t buried in between her thighs to push her back from not leaning forward to expose her face to his viewers.

“If you’re going to cum on my fingers go ahead,” Dabi urged as his fingers still were inside her. “I want to feel your pussy pulse around my fingers anyway,” He adds.

Dabi’s inebriating words only was responded with a string of moans. His free hand reached over to rub at her clit. The beautiful sight of (Y/N) on his monitor had Dabi rock hard under his sweatpants that were currently soaked. (Y/N) had reached to slowly Dabi’s hand but he moved it out the way as if she was being disobedient.

“Just let it all doll, I know you want to,” Dabi assured as his thumb flickered at the sensitive bud once again.

It was as if he had her in a trance because once those words fell off his tongue, (Y/N) let it all out. Her walls fluttered around his fingers as if it was his own thick cock. But that didn’t stop Dabi. His fingers still thrust inside her tight cunt, lunging through the overpowering orgasm she was currently enduring.

“Dabi, that’s too much” (Y/N) cried out as her tears decorated her lashline, causing the once-black mascara she wore to smudge and stain her face.

“Shhhh…I said let it all out, didn’t I?” Dabi questioned as his lips kissed at the side of her temple sweetly. His fingers still pounced forward until the gush of liquid escaped from her cunt. Dabi could feel it staining his pants, his wooden floors right below him, and even his desk.

The sight of seeing the way (Y/N)’s toes curled as his fingers removed themselves before he’s back massaging her clit. She was a wet quivering mess in his lap as the tipping notification on his profile was going off like crazy.

“Don’t ever think about blackmailing again, okay?” Dabi whispered into her ear before he eventually ended his stream.

(Y/N) couldn’t feel the lower half of her body, her brain felt like a frozen Windows tab on a computer, and she felt so exhausted. As she sat on Dabi’s lap, she could feel the same fingers that once were inside her tracing alongside her thighs that still were shaking just a bit.

“You need to get up and go shower before my parents come back” Dabi interjected her thoughts.

“Yeah, you’re right.” was the only words that could come out of (Y/N)’s mouth as she climbed off his lap. Her face felt so hot when she saw the wet spot on Dabi’s pants.

“It’s just a pair of sweatpants,” He responded as he began to clean the mess (Y/N) made.

When the stream ended, Dabi and (Y/N) were in the living room watching television. Sitting in silence trying to gather up all the thoughts of the intimate moment the two shared. He heard her phone ring, expecting it was his parents notifying her that they were a couple of minutes away from the house and it was okay to leave now if she’d like. But instead, he watched as her teeth bit down on her lower lip.

“Connor, you left me on read for three days and now you want to respond because I got finger fucked on camera! Fuck you!”

At that moment Dabi realized that (Y/N) didn’t care to blackmail him and use him being a cam boy against him. She used it for her own gain. To make her boyfriend jealous.

“How’d he know it was you?” Dabi questioned as his eyes tore from the television to look at her.

(Y/N) threw her feet in Dabi’s lap, lifting her left leg shaking her leg slightly so the gold anklet that had a ‘C’ pendant would be in his view. “This. He gave it to me last Monday for our four-month anniversary, just for him to cheat two days after that. I sent him the link to your profile before I even approached you about the whole blackmailing thing.” She said with confidence in her voice.

“You’re fuckin’ insane.” He added.

“I know.” (Y/N) says as she smiled at the dark-haired male.

Silence once again overcame the duo as they went back to watching tv, but Dabi broke the silence with a quickness.

“Do you want to do another stream together?”

#mha smut #mha x reader #dabi x reader #dabi smut #toya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki smut #anime smut #anime x reader #my hero academia x reader #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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kiwisbell · 6 months

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The Impaler

Chief Detective Tim Rockford makes a breakthrough in New York City’s latest serial killer case. The mysterious culprit is in the mood to share more than information.

my masterlist!

pairing: tim rockford x f!reader x max phillips

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: vampires, gothic architecture, slightly dubious consent, implied mind alteration/control, murder, death, blood, threesome, lots of biting, spanking, spitroasting, masturbation, DVP, fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap ur vampire dicks pls), wife sharing, free use kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), exchanging fluids, spitting, disgusting and filthy, max using cringey nicknames for reader’s pussy but it’s charming bc it’s max, handcuffs, light bondage, hair pulling

word count: ~ 7.2k

read on ao3!

a/n: hello, my loves!! i wanted to do something special for halloween, so i decided to slap together a short, silly, unpolished one-shot inspired by dracula! this one is dedicated to my vampire obsession and tim rockford's shoulder holsters. anyway, please mind the tags, and enjoy!!

PREFACE

“No one but a woman can help a man when he is in trouble of the heart." — Bram Stoker, Dracula

“I swear to God, Ron, I’m two seconds away from taking up smoking again.”

Chief Detective Tim Rockford pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling his eye twitch minutely with every pass he makes of the cork board.

The seventh victim in two weeks, and he’s no closer to an answer. Last night, thirty-two-year-old Dean Madison was found by the harbour, a couple shades paler than his family insisted he usually was and with two small puncture wounds in his neck. Otherwise, the coroners didn’t find a single wound on him. Before Madison, it was a couple in Central Park, and before that, a college football player. Their bodies were all found in virtually the same condition, but not one of them is related.

Random. Unplanned acts of violence carried out exclusively at night, predicated on nothing but the apparent desire to kill. The culprit left no fingerprints, no murder weapon, no footprints. There's no motivation.

Groaning as he stands, elder Detective Ron Lauder hands Tim a manila folder. “List of the boats going in and out last night, if you fancy makin’ your eyes cross. I gotta call it here, man. You should go home, too, get some sleep.”

Tim claps Ron on the back. “Nah, man, I gotta file these away first. You go on home.”

“Don’t come cryin’ to me when you fall asleep in your Cheerios tomorrow.” Ron leaves yawning, and Tim hears the door gently click shut in the distance, signalling a familiar solitude in the bullpen.

The other cops know about the case. They all have bets running. Will the chief get it right? Will he get himself killed? When’s the next victim going to show? Tim indulges their morbid little fantasy pool by devoting most of his waking—and sleeping—hours to the task.

He decides to settle in with the logs from the docks. Scanning every line item, he feels his eyelids pulling down, and takes another sip of coffee to stay awake.

One name catches his eye. Demeter.

Tim narrows his eyes, his gaze travelling across the page. The logs only account for the past twenty-four hours, but he's seen that name before. He sets down the file and hurries to his desk, rifling through the top drawer, setting aside his pocket knife and his gun, to produce another file labelled ????

Not very creative, but it’s not like he’s going to label a file My Latest Failure. He opens the folder and scours the paperwork inside for witness statements.

There.

Fuck—here it is. His first goddamn lead.

On the 14th of October, a dock worker watched the Demeter stroll up to the harbour through the water and a man saunter inside, exchanging cash with the driver. The man left with a box. Because the Demeter was listed as a private vessel, the dock worker had reason for concern if the boat was conducting business without a license. He reported this to the police.

Tim eyes the cork board, following the red thread that connect each victim. He curses.

The next day, the boat’s driver was found dead in a Soho alleyway. Two puncture wounds in his neck.

Jesus Christ. Tim’s fingers tremble as he turns the page to continue reading.

If the Demeter is conducting frequent illegal business from that harbour and the client doesn't want anyone finding out, it’s likely that client is exactly who Tim is looking for. And it's even likelier poor Dean Madison was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Give me something. A wire transfer pattern. A paper trail. A benevolent benefactor who keeps the engine running.

Outside, the wind whistles, and Tim blinks away sleep. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a shape pass by the window, and his head jerks up.

There's a bat hanging from the tree outside. The creature stares for a long while, near-incisive, as if telling Tim to go the fuck to sleep. He checks his watch. It’s two o’clock.

More than enough time to head down to the docks.

The next night, just after nine o’clock, Tim knocks on the door of a hulking mansion in Soho.

The Gothic spires of the home stretch to the wispy clouds, the moon taking up a vigil over the grand roof. Arched windows glare down at him. You are a trespasser, they hiss. You do not belong here. The door knocker is shaped like a pair of bat wings, and the ancient, ornate doors creak under the force of his pounding. Overhead, clouds continue to roll in, signalling some fall storm. A shiver racks his body.

A woman opens the door, and Tim’s heartbeat stutters.

You’re beautiful. Your smile is so radiant it infects your eyes, your body draped in a tiny white slip, skin so soft it seems to glow in the light. You briefly assess Tim with those keen eyes.

“Good evening, sir,” you say. Tim licks his lips. Your voice is soft as water.

“Good… uh, good evening, ma'am.” He forgets that he is supposed to remain suspicious and clasps his hands together in front of him. “Chief Detective Tim Rockford. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Oh,” you purr, demurely folding your hands together in a mirror action to Tim, “of course. Would you like some coffee?”

In the movement, he catches a glimmer of the golden band around your ring finger. “No. Thank you.”

Amusement twinkles in your eyes. “That’s good, because we don’t have any.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he says good-naturedly. “What’s your husband’s name?”

“Phillips,” you reply dutifully, nibbling your bottom lip. “Max Phillips.”

Fuck.

He has the right person. He just can't help but wonder if you're a part of it, too.

There’s not a chance. You’re too good. Too beautiful. Your eyes pull him in, waves swallowing the shore, your pupils shrinking and dilating as if speaking to him.

“Have you seen this man?” Tim asks, presenting a picture of Dean Madison, drained of blood and neck punctured.

You frown, but he finds no glimmer of recognition in your eyes, no evidence of an increased heart rate. “Oh, gosh, no. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right,” says Tim. He doesn't know why he bothers, but he hides the gruesome image. He doesn't want to see you upset.

“Am I in trouble for something, Detective?”

Your breasts sit so nicely in that little nightgown, the line of your thighs so tempting under the hem, your skin so fucking dewy he could lick all the nectar from it. Tim blinks hard. What the fuck is wrong with him?

“No,” he says tightly. “Just here to ask some questions. Does the name Demeter mean anything to you?”

Sheepishly, you shrug. “She's a Greek goddess.”

“She’s also a boat,” says Tim. “It’s connected to two incidents by the docks in the past couple weeks.”

“Incidents?”

The curve of your throat would fit his mouth so nicely. You’re beautiful in the way a marble statue is—elegant and poised, carefully arranged, silk dripping like honey off your perfect fucking body.

Tim clears his throat. His head feels foggy.

“Do you mind if I speak to your husband?”

“Maxie?” your sweet voice calls. The sound echoes off the polished walls, petering gently to a lullaby, and Tim wants to rescue you from such a cruel place. “Maxie, there's a man at the door, and he wants to speak with you.”

A man descends the grand spiral staircase, dressed in a suit even though it’s nighttime, adjusting his cufflinks and grinning like a real schmoozer. He’s got the same dark eyes and nose and mouth as Tim, but marked by signs of youth the detective doesn't have. He’s clean-shaven, bright-eyed, lively.

“Evening, Detective,” says Max Phillips. “Hope you haven't been giving my wife any trouble. Hi, baby.”

You beam at him, holding out your hand. Max threads his fingers through yours and pushes himself into your space, playfully nipping your earlobe. Your giggle is intoxicating. Tim wants to be the one making you smile this way.

“Mr. Phillips, have you seen this man?”

Phillips takes a break from crushing his nose in your throat to examine the picture. “Haven’t seen him,” he says, “but it looks like he isn’t seeing anyone.”

“Last night,” says Tim, tucking the picture away, “I went down to the docks and took a look around. You know what I found, Mr. Phillips?”

“This isn't a very fun game, Detective.” Phillips is busying himself with your hair, twirling a lock of it around his finger. You stare up at your husband like he hung the fucking moon and Tim wants to know what it feels like to earn that look.

“I found blood,” says Tim. “Bags of blood from St. Clare’s Mercy in St. John’s. What kind of sick bastard steals blood from a hospital? I wondered. Then I checked the registration and found a name. Phillips.”

The revelation doesn't seem to faze Phillips the way it did Tim. His lips curve in a frown against your temple. “Looks like the detective knows how to do his job.”

You play with your husband’s fingers as if coaxing him to use them on you. “Didn’t mean to,” you whisper.

“Shh, sweetheart, I know.” Max tucks your hair behind your ear, his voice so gentle. “I know you didn't mean to, baby. We all get hungry.”

Tim's nostrils flare. You’re both so indifferent to all you've done—you don't care one bit that you've killed, that you’ve left Tim and all his inferiors scratching their heads and losing sleep for weeks.

He’s got his culprits, all right.

What the fuck do they want with bags of blood?

His lip curls. “Just tell me the truth. We can all work together here.”

“About that man by the docks,” you say softly, stepping forward with a placating smile on your face. “I got carried away, Detective. I never wanted to—”

Tim has heard enough. He withdraws his gun from its holster and points the barrel between your eyes. “Do not. Move.”

Your lower lip juts out in a pout, but Phillips’s eyes darken, playful veneer crumbling fast, at the sight of a gun pointed at his wife. “Now, Detective,” he says good-naturedly, though his rigid posture betrays any sense of camaraderie. “If you're gonna point that gun at anyone, it should be me.”

“That so?” Tim’s eyes don't stray from you. Your eyes are wide as a doe’s, your glossy lips parted in vague shock, your silky nightgown contoured so deliciously to your shape. You smell fresh, roses and perfume, and his head goes fuzzy. Your skin looks so soft, glowing under the orange firelight…

He wonders how you would taste.

His finger trembles near the trigger.

Phillips presses closer to you, his hand sliding around your waist, his fingers splaying over your ribs. Possessive. His eyes are on Tim, and that look—it peels him apart. Tim may be holding a weapon, but he feels powerless to do anything at all.

Fear strikes him true. He should not have knocked on this door tonight.

“You know what I like about people?” says Phillips, idly circling his thumb over your waist while his eyes fall to your pretty face, his other hand twisting your hair around his finger. “I like that they're so… hmm, supple. It's like plucking all the petals off a flower. Can see all the stuff inside with one little pull.”

Phillips suddenly ducks his head and Tim jolts, pointing the gun his way, but the killer only places an open-mouthed kiss on your throat, just beneath your ear.

Tim watches your eyes flutter, a sedated little smile growing on your face, and he wants to know. He needs to know what you taste like.

“That’s more like it, Detective,” says Phillips, playfully nipping your throat before he pulls back. Tim sees a flash of glistening white as the killer bares his teeth and presumes a man as well-off as Max Phillips knows something about veneers. “I know what you want. You don't want to point that gun at my wife, do you?”

Tim’s jaw ticks. He doesn't. He doesn't want to hurt you at all. He wants to make you smile. He wants to slip his hand inside that nightgown and tear it all away to see what's beneath. He wants to put his mouth on you, touch you, do whatever you fucking want him to do.

Phillips chuckles, and a tremor oozes down Tim’s spine. He isn't safe here—he knew this straight away—but there's more to the couple in front of him than they’re letting him know. “Mmm, she has that effect on lots of people,” says Phillips. “Can’t tell you how many men I’ve had to kill just because they decided to touch.” He pinches your ass for effect and you laugh, hiding your face in Max’s neck.

“Is that a confession?” says Tim, gritting his teeth as another wave of your perfume pervades reason.

“Sure,” says Phillips, “it's a confession. But I don't think you want to leave. I think you want to stay here and fuck my wife. Do I get the cash prize, Detective?”

Tim wavers. The door is… It’s right there. He’s standing just inside, could turn around and bolt the hell out of here now, could radio for backup and cuff both of these freaks in two seconds.

He lowers the gun.

“Thaaat’s it,” coos Phillips. “I’ll offer you a deal now. Make her feel good, and I’ll forget about you pointing that gun at her.”

Tim’s cock is stiff in his pants, blood surging downward and away from his brain, his body calling to the siren song emitting from you. He’ll drown in it. There's no turning back. Behind him, the door swings closed, untouched.

You grin at Tim, biting your bottom lip and threading your fingers through Max’s hair. This way, you keep your husband fixed to you, nipping playfully at your throat.

“Do you want to touch me, sir?” you ask him, your voice dripping nectar.

Tim’s jaw ticks. His head inclines in a nod.

“No, no, no, Detective, that's no fun,” tuts Max. “Is it, baby?”

“Mmm, no fun,” you echo, the sound of it melodic, enchanting. “Want you to want it, Detective. Want you to show me you want it.”

Tim nods again, stepping closer, his eyes raking over your body in that little white slip, held in place by Phillips’ hands.

“You're not going to touch my wife with a gun in your hand,” says Phillips darkly. “You’re going to drop it, and then you’ll clean off your dirty fingers in her pretty cunt.”

Tim flicks on the safety and sets the gun on the table just inside the foyer, shucking off his jacket. He doesn't care about the goddamn case anymore. He’s bone-tired, sick of all the overtime he's putting in with no return on investment, and so lonely that it aches. He needs a body to bury himself inside, a sweet, pretty girl to taste. He didn't expect he’d pick the woman he's been chasing for weeks.

He approaches you slowly, taking in the entire length of your body, wondering about the texture of your hair, the softness of your skin. He gets to explore it tonight. He won't waste the chance.

The first touch electrifies his nerves. Your skin is velvet under his rough palms, your head tilting idly to the side as your husband continues to kiss your neck. Tim caresses your arms, memorising the feel of you beneath his fingers, and lets your eyes swallow him.

“Can I kiss you?”

His voice scrapes over your skin and lifts goosebumps, some echo of the bodily instincts you once had in life. You practically purr as you hook your fingers in the holsters straining under his broad shoulders and tug him closer.

“Please kiss me, sir.”

The scent of roses washes down his throat as he cups your face and slants his mouth over yours. Max occupies himself in the junction of your throat and shoulder, canines gently grazing what used to be your pulse point. You moan softly into Tim’s mouth, and his cock reacts accordingly, twitching in his pants as he presses his body against yours to deepen the kiss.

“Tastes so sweet, doesn't she?” Max muses, his hand squeezing your hip. “She’s picky, too. Must like you a lot.”

Tim groans as he pulls you closer, his hand warming the small of your back over the flimsy silk slip. His tongue slides along yours, his fingers threading in your hair, and he grinds his clothed cock into your hip. He eagerly swallows down your whines, consumed by how fucking good you feel against him.

Max’s fangs begin to protrude from his gums as his tongue lavishes your throat, lapping up the sweetness rolling off your body, your hormones, the way you radiate need even though your heart does not beat. His cock prods your ass, confined in his pants, straining to find the friction he needs. You're melting, hands grasping greedily at Tim’s holsters, his button-up, trying to absolve him of his clothes.

He’s so dizzy he can barely stay upright. He belongs right here in your shadow, kissing his way across your jaw, so caught up in the fervour of pleasing you that he doesn't notice the way your pulse does not flutter under his lips.

“Does it feel good, baby?” says Max, his fangs close to puncturing your skin. “Is he doing his job?”

“Yes,” you whisper, lashes fluttering as Tim’s moustache scratches the sensitive skin below your ear. Your fingers curl in his tousled hair, dark and streaked with grey, signifiers of age your Max will never show. Your Max, who wants to taste you even though it doesn’t sustain him, who indulges in the sublime sweetness of your blood just because he loves it.

Tim’s big hands trail down your body at the same time his mouth does, shifting the silk nightgown in his feverish need to feel more of you, bringing the entire thing down to the floor with him in one aggressive tug. You gasp, your nipples stiff as they're exposed to the cool air, your thighs squeezing together instinctively, watching Tim sink to his knees in front of you as if in a trance.

“Don’t be shy, baby.” Max’s hand trails across your belly, palming at your thigh. Tim is crushing his nose into your skin as he kisses the spot where your hip meets your thigh. “You want him to taste your pretty pussy?”

“Yes, Max,” you whimper. “Yes, please.”

His lips ghost across your temple. “Don’t beg me. Beg him.”

Your eyes dip below your body to find Tim staring expectantly at you as he scatters kisses along your belly, your thighs. His pupils eclipse those warm brown irises. “Please, Detective.” You comb his soft hair away from his forehead and bite your lip at the way his taut expression telegraphs unaltered desire. He needs this. He needs you. “Please taste me.”

It's all he wants. His big, broad shoulders ease your thighs open while Max moves to your back, letting you balance against his hard chest. The scrape of the leather holsters on the back of your thigh makes you shiver as Tim guides your leg up onto his shoulder. You’re fucking dripping for him, your pussy glistening with your own arousal, clinging to your inner thighs. Tim’s eyes shudder as he slowly licks your juices clean off your skin, his fingers dimpling flesh.

“How’s she taste?” says Max, his hand fixing around your throat. Your hand overlaps his for a grip on reality, your other firmly wedged in the dreamworld, grasping Tim’s messy hair.

“So fucking sweet,” growls Tim, his teeth sinking into your inner thigh, over your femoral artery.

“Oh,” you moan, your head lolling against Max’s shoulder. “He likes to bite, Maxie.”

“A thorough detective,” purrs Max, his thumb caressing your jaw. “Hard to find that kind of dedication these days. Don’t make her wait, Rockford. She wants you; I can smell it.”

Tim’s nostrils flare—one last breath of air before he sinks wholly under the water. His tongue darts out to part your folds, sliding languorously through your wet slit. You bite your lip at the sight of his strong shoulders wedged between your thighs, his nose pressed hard against your clit as he circles his tongue around your hole. You’re fucking nectar. It's euphoria, the indelible high he will always be searching to replicate.

“Detective,” you sigh.

Tim groans into your cunt, his hand coming down in a hard smack to your thigh. The sudden shock of the slap pools arousal in your core, a pitiful yelp leaving your mouth.

“Sir!”

“The detective knows what this pretty little kitty wants,” says Max, grinning against your cheek. He punctuates his words with a playful thrust into your backside. “He knows you like it rough, honey. You like that?”

“Yes! Yes! More, please, I’ll do anything.”

Max considers this, humming ponderously into your throat. “Anything?”

Tim places an open-mouthed kiss on your needy clit, and you gasp, “Anything!”

“You got a pair of handcuffs on you, Rockford?”

It's a flurry of activity. You're transported efficiently to the couch in the living room, a gigantic jewel-green sectional, your hands bound behind you by two cold metal cuffs. Bent over the arm of the sofa, your thighs are spread, your cheek pressed into the cushion as you're shamelessly bared for the pair of them. Whining, you wiggle your hips, standing on your toes and presenting yourself for someone to make you feel good, already.

“My poor baby.” Max is gently caressing the curve of your spine. “You said you'd do anything. You wanna break your promise?”

“No, no, I’ll be good,” you beg. “I’ll behave, please!”

“Hear that, Rockford?” says Max, still smiling fondly down at you. “She’ll be good.”

Hands grasp your thighs and wrench them farther apart, warm breath—living breath—blowing on your cunt. “Sir,” you gasp, writhing under his big hands, “are you gonna be nice to me?”

Tim licks a bold path through your slit and hums, his head spinning, inebriated from a taste alone. He’s keeping you spread open, lapping up your sweet juices, fixing for his next hit. Making you moan is victory alone. He’ll be more than nice to you.

He fixes his mouth to your clit and you cry out, your hands flexing uselessly in the handcuffs. He suckles at your pearl, every sensation heightened by the fact that you can't move, buried under the weight of all the hands and metal links and pleasure. Max watches, pleased with your behaviour, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. “You’ve been bad, honey. Got a little reckless. We’re gonna teach you how to be good.”

Tim nips your clit, Max’s silent partner-in-crime, and you mewl.

“Like you… know anything… about good.”

“Mmm, and so rude.” Max clicks his tongue in reproach. “Detective, I think you should show my wife what happens when she's rude.”

The tongue licking through your cunt stops, and a garbled sound of protest escapes your throat, your eyes bleeding mascara into the cushion. You pulse frantically around nothing, desperate to be filled somehow, anywhere. You whimper for Tim, Maxie, someone, please—

A hot, wet glob of saliva lands on your puckered asshole, and a gurgled moan leaves your lips as Tim cleans off his own spit with his tongue.

As he swirls the wet muscle around your hole, his hand comes down in a hard slap on your ass, and you squeal, your arousal splattering on his clean white shirt. Apparently pleased, Tim groans, two thick fingers parting your folds.

“Ah! Oh, fuck, sir, please…”

Kneading the flesh of your ass in one hand, the other occupies itself by playing with your pussy, and for the first time, the detective gives you an order.

“Tell me how it feels,” he demands, sinking two fingers into your tight cunt. His voice sounds like the shroud of night, like he knows exactly how illicit this is and fucking delights in it.

The feeling of his tongue on your asshole and his fingers curling up against your spongy walls has you drooling, your thighs trembling around his shoulders. “It’s… ah, fuck… it’s so good, Detective. Fuck, I’m… I’m gonna—”

Max tucks your hair behind your ear so he can see the wrecked, dazed expression on your face. “We’re going to fill you up, honey. Let you prove that you're a nice girl. That sound like fun?”

“Yes,” you moan, trying to maintain eye contact with Max even as your vision blurs with tears, “s’good. Need to come, Detective. Please.”

Tim spanks your ass again, his mouth slurping indecently at your backside, his fingers coaxing you to a high you don’t see coming. Your thighs shake uncontrollably as he rubs up against your g-spot, your mouth dropping open in a silent scream as your entire body seizes.

“There she is,” purrs Max, “such a nice girl, asking before she comes. How does your pretty kitty feel, baby?”

“Mmmsogood.” It's all a jumble in your mouth as your tension dissolves. Behind you, Tim is so gentle, licking up the release that has dripped down your thighs and tastefully avoiding your pussy.

Max caresses your cheek. “Check in with me, honey. You want to keep going?”

You nod vigorously, flexing your fingers. Max intertwines his hand with yours, squeezing. “I want you in my mouth, Max. Wanna make you feel good.”

He grins crookedly, making eye contact with the detective behind you. Tim’s eyes are black, bright as a moonlit lake, his cock tenting his pants. Max isn't much better off. Your body will do that to a man. A woman. Fucking anyone.

He’s just better at controlling himself. He’s had seventy years of practice.

Max’s eyes don't waver from Tim as he speaks to you. “Want our nice detective inside you, baby?”

“Oh, please,” you gasp. “Please fill me up, sir.”

Max cocks his head toward Tim. “I think she's been good enough. Don’t you?”

Tim nods. You have. You’ve been so good. He’ll give you any goddamn thing you want. He’ll throw himself at your feet time and time again if it means you’ll look at him this way. Over your shoulder, you meet his eye, smiling sweetly enough to give him a toothache.

“I’ll be a good girl, Detective.”

The glint of the metal cuffs reflects in his eyes, and he looks like an animal.

Both he and Max shuck down their zippers, but it’s Tim’s hands that grab for you, hauling you backward by your hips and wrapping one large hand around the chain between your cuffs. Pulling hard, he forces your body upright as Max settles in front of you.

You look up through your lashes at your husband, who tangles his fingers in your hair and yanks your head back. You’re effectively suspended in the air by both men, your hips sorely rubbing against the arm of the sofa. It’s intoxicating.

Between your kiss-bruised lips, Max watches your fangs protrude, and he tuts.

“Gonna have to learn to control yourself, baby. Otherwise, this is gonna hurt for me.”

You swallow hard, retracting the sharp points of your teeth back into your gums. Max sings his praises by pulling out his hard cock and slapping it playfully against your cheek. Moaning his name, you begin to drool, the need to please igniting your body into action, your fuse lit from both ends.

Behind you, a warm, hard length rests between your asscheeks, and your back arches as best it can with Tim pulling at your cuffs. “Mmm, you’re so big, Detective,” you croon. “Is it gonna fit?”

Tim tugs roughly at the cuffs, a deep noise like a growl leaving his lips. “Gonna fuckin’ make it fit.”

“Open up,” says Max, guiding his cock to the seam of your mouth. “Open, and he’ll stuff your pretty little cunt.”

You part your lips and stick out your tongue, eager to take your husband’s big cock into your mouth. He’s long, thick, ridged with veins that you could trace with your eyes closed. But he doesn't like it when you close your eyes. He wants to watch you take him.

He pushes the tip into your hot, wet mouth, lip curling to reveal sharp teeth glinting white in the firelight. Your skin is pleasantly sticky with warmth, your mascara smudged beneath your eyes. Tim grasps the base of his cock, smearing his precum through your folds and catching on your clit. You moan around Max’s cock, letting him slide deeper down your throat at the same time the detective’s cock notches inside your cunt and begins to sink inside you.

Tim’s free hand grabs your hip to steady himself. Fuck, you're goddamn tight—warm and wet, your greedy pussy sucks him in, wrenching open around his length. His nostrils flare with self-restraint, the Herculean task of maintaining some composure even as his entire body thrums with the need to take you, to use you like a pretty doll and relieve all his stress.

What the fuck is happening to me?

“She’ll let you,” says Max, and Tim has to blink hard to see the man across from him. “She’ll let you use her. She likes being treated like a cumslut. Right, honey?”

Your fingers flex, locking around Tim’s wrist, and you bob your head around Max’s cock. “Shit, that’s right,” growls your husband. “Feel that, Detective? She’s fuckin’ begging to be filled up. Don’t go easy on her; she won’t be happy.”

Tim feels the rest of you give, and his hips bump into your ass. “Fuck,” he sighs. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

The fire's embers crackle against his back. He’s where he belongs.

His first thrust is experimental, watching the way your ass jiggles and your nails dig into his wrist, your throat contracting around Max’s cock. His second is indulgence: a slow drag out, back in, savouring the way your walls suffocate him. By the third, he’s lost control.

He begins to fuck you hard, the momentum of his thrusts forcing Max’s cock down your throat. “Je—fuck,” spits Max, fisting your hair, transfixed by the tears brimming in your waterline, the delicious slide of his length along the walls of your hot throat. “Such a fuckin’ pro. Gonna turn me into a two-pump chump. Gonna fuckin’ embarrass me in front of our guest.”

Tim grits his teeth as he pounds you, relishing his total control over your body, bending it to his will. You're so fucking good, so sweet, and he doesn't know why he ever suspected you.

He should turn in his badge for pointing a gun at you.

You whine around Max’s cock when Tim grinds deep, the head of his dick kissing your cervix, your eyes rolling back in your head. He feels you shudder underneath him and does it all over again, fucking you hard, deep, mercilessly.

You swallow Max down to the base, wiggling your tongue along the vein on his length. “Gonna fuckin’ come if you keep doing that,” he groans, but you're undeterred. You hum, the vibrations coursing through his body, and his balls pull up, emptying his cum down your throat in rhythmic pulses.

“Fuck.” Max pulls out of your mouth just to spill the last of his cum on your bruised lips, painting you white. “That’s my fucking girl. Show me.”

You open your mouth again, tongue lolling out to proudly display his release. He rubs his thumb over your chin and spits into your mouth.

“Now swallow.”

You do, gulping down his cum and showing him your clean tongue when you're done. Max smirks, too damn proud for his own good. “Made you cry.”

You have little room left in your head to bask in his praise. Tim is taking charge, engulfed in the ecstasy of fucking you, his hips punching hard into your ass and forcing your back to bow with the grip he maintains on the handcuffs. Your next orgasm is approaching, your clit rubbing against the arm of the sofa and sending electrical tremors to your core.

But Max is still steel-hard despite his orgasm, watching the way your ass bounces with the force of Tim’s thrusts, your bound hands collected in a useless pile at your back, the breathy moans that leave your mouth. “Gonna need to take a break from breaking her, Detective. I want in, too.”

Some territorial part of him snaps and claws, too consumed by your body to let another man near it. Max clicks his tongue, giving Tim a dangerous smile. “Be careful, Rockford. Don’t get greedy with your treat.”

A strangled “unh” is your input, eyes shuttering as Tim reaches deep inside you again, mounting your orgasm to a foregone conclusion. Max sees the glaze drip down over your eyes, and decides to watch you come apart under a different man’s cock. “Spoiled, honey,” he mutters. “You’re spoiled.”

You come hard, joints locking and thighs squeezing Tim’s where they keep you spread apart. Your entire body jolts with electrical pulses, the pleasure coursing white-hot through your useless veins. He holds you in place, impaled on his dick, writhing around to get as much of him inside you as you possibly can. Tim grits his teeth, a faint whimper escaping his throat. The feeling of your pussy contracting around him, soaking his length, has him dizzy, close to keeling over—the scent of you, the warmth of your tight cunt, the way you coo his name and call him sir. Thank you for letting me come, sir. Fuck, sir, you feel so good inside me. Don’t leave me, sir.

He doesn't ever want to leave this fucking house.

Max slides his palm over your spine and you melt under it. “Come on, honey, let’s get you up. I’m in the mood to share some more.”

You whine as Tim reluctantly pulls out, weeping precum into your used hole. He’s going to fucking die if he doesn't come soon.

He helps you upright, kissing all the way up your spine and enjoying the soft hums of pleasure that emit from your lips. He wants to stay forever. He wants to bury himself inside you and never pull away.

“Mmm, Detective,” you purr. “So strong.”

“Yours,” he grumbles, his plush, wet mouth feverishly tracing a path along your jaw. “‘m yours.”

“Hear that, Maxie?” You beam at your husband, threading your fingers through Tim’s behind your back. “He’s mine.”

Max grins. “Let him prove it. C’mere, honey.”

Tim walks you to the couch and helps you kneel, settling behind you. Sitting in his lap, his mouth on your throat, you watch Max approach, slowly fisting himself. He kneels, too, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit. You gasp his name, your back arching, and Tim uses the opportunity to slot himself at your entrance, sinking you down on his cock with none of the care he took the first time around.

He’s deeper at this angle, grinding up against your front wall, absconding with any attention he had for staving off his orgasm. His teeth nip your earlobe, your jaw, one arm banding around your waist and squeezing your breast.

In front of you, Max grips himself and continues to rub your clit with the head of his cock. You mewl like a cat, and Tim groans, burying his face in your neck.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he hisses, his hips bucking up into you. “Jesus, baby.”

“He’s a blasphemer,” teases Max.

“Good,” you sigh, your head falling back onto Tim’s shoulder. The scent of leather and sweat engulfs your heightened senses, and the erratic thrum of his pulse echoes in your ears. His blood is warm, thick, rich—

Just a taste, you think, your eyes drooping at the very thought. Just one taste. I’ll be good…

Max coaxes you to another high with the pressure at your clit, but when he sees your mouth drop, he takes it away from you. You pout, petulant as ever, and Max mirrors it mockingly.

“One dick inside you isn't good enough?” He shuffles closer, yanking your head back by your hair and kissing you hard. His tongue dips into your mouth, and your fangs begin to descend, catching his lip before he breaks away.

Max prods his lip with his thumb and watches the blood bead, reaching out to smear the small crimson stain onto your lips. Hungrily, you lick it up, the cat with the cream, staring up at him with those faux-innocent eyes.

He snarls, fitting the head of his cock at your already-filled entrance. “Relax.” It’s Tim's raspy voice, mouth still fixed to your throat. You sink into him, letting Max open you up wide.

“That’s fuckin’ it, baby,” says your husband, smoothing his hand over your belly and wrenching open your hole to fit himself next to the detective. “Feel us in here?”

“Unnghhh.” Your mouth is open, your pearly fangs glinting in the dim light. Tim drags his nose up your throat and opens his eyes to study your face in the moment of pleasure.

He barely registers the too-sharp teeth, the blackened veins crawling from your eyes. You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. It's all he knows as he begins to fuck you in tandem with your husband. His body vibrates with desire. His head is static. He belongs to you.

You’re so full. You're going to burst, and they're relentless, uncaring, caught up in the list and pheromones and perhaps the competition of seeing who can get you there first. You can only manage faint squeaks as they repeatedly take you, your body suspended, a pretty toy they get to use as they like. It’s so erotic that your cheeks burn, your core building with the pressure of another orgasm.

So fuckin’ tight.

Such a pretty fuckin’ doll, letting us use your body.

Gonna take our cum, baby? You gonna keep it all safe inside you?

She’s coming. Looks so pretty when she comes.

Come, pretty girl, and we’ll fill you up. Give you a nice treat.

You no longer know who’s speaking. It's all rolling around in your head, the smell of blood pounding in your skull, the temptation to turn your head to the side and taste the nectar from his throat. Your orgasm devastates you, your body quivering, both men lavishing their tongues and mouths over your skin as they continue to wreck your cunt.

Fingers flex against your ribcage, your wrist, and Tim is coming, his teeth bared against your temple and the leather holsters on his shoulders scraping wetly against your back as he grinds into you and stays there. His hot cum pumps into you, splattering your walls and Max’s cock. His balls continue to empty inside you as your husband reaches his peak, nudging your chin upward so he can sink his teeth into your throat, gulping down your blood.

Max’s head goes fuzzy with your taste, sweet and soft as velvet as it slides down his tongue. You moan at the feeling of his cum filling you up at the same time he depletes you of blood you don't need. They both empty themselves inside you and let your body slump against him. You hear the rustle of a key in your handcuffs and feel them release, falling to the floor.

Max and Tim ease out of you, and you turn around to lower yourself onto Tim’s hard chest, toying with the buttons of his shirt. Behind you, Max scoops up globs of cum that have slipped out of your used hole and stuffs it back inside.

Tim’s eyes are fixed to you, dark and gentle, his hand gently squeezing your wrists. “Did I hurt you?”

“You couldn't hurt me,” you purr, sliding your hands under his collar and threading your fingers through his tousled hair. “You're so sweet to me, Detective. So big and strong.”

He trails his fingers up your back until he can cup your face in his hands, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb. “Your teeth…,” he murmurs, a vague expression of puzzlement on his face.

“You aren’t going to take me down to the station, are you, Detective?” You curl your finger around a lock of silver hair, pouting down at him.

“No, baby.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. “I’m not gonna do anything to hurt you. I’d never. You’re safe. Safe with me.”

You beam at him and playfully nip his nose. “You’re a good detective, Mr. Rockford. You’ll find the killer soon.”

He nods vigorously. “I will.”

“And you’ll put them away,” you say, biting your lip as you slowly unbutton his shirt. “Because you're so good.”

“I’m good,” he echoes, unable to tear his eyes from yours. His body feels limp, calm, satiated, when he's touching you this way. The job disappears. The stress disappears, the exhaustion and the malaise. Humankind is a pathology, and you are his cure.

“Max,” you coo, resting your cheek on Tim’s chest and listening to his strong heartbeat. “I like him.”

Max hums, his knuckles gently dragging up and down your spine. “I know, baby. You wanna keep him?”

Quietly, you nod, littering kisses from his chest to his neck. You indulge in the fluttering pulse beneath his jaw. Tim smiles, sedated, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Max nods, giving your ass a playful squeeze. “Okay, honey. Go on—ask him.”

You prop yourself up on Tim’s chest and trail your fingers through his beard. “Do you wanna stay with me?”

Tim’s brows crease. “You want me to stay?”

“Forever,” you whisper conspiratorially, your fingers drumming an eager little dance on his chest. “I’ll make you real happy. I promise.”

Tim sees the points of your canines, the veins bleeding from your darkening eyes, and feels no fear. He lets you tip his head back, baring his throat, and he lets you lick a bold stripe up his neck. My answer is yes, he thinks, and he hopes you can hear him, crawling happily down into a hell that will warm his body for eternity.

Peace overcomes him as your eyes meet his, and your fangs sink in deep, the light slowly dimming to a faint memory.

CASE CLOSED.

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #tim rockford x reader #merge mansion #tim rockford #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #max phillips #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips x you #max phillips x reader #max phillips x f!reader #max phillips x reader x tim rockford #max phillips fanfiction #tim rockford fanfiction

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starchaserdreams · 5 months

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My fics on AO3

Alright, so I deleted my AO3 account a few months ago (thinking I was done with this) and orphaned all of my works. Well, now I deeply regret that. But I have collected as many of them as I could find here for anyone who's interested.

Jegulus/Starchaser

Temptation Eyes (Now Complete!) - My Jegulus Regency AU. Completed, being posted one chapter twice a week. James enters the London season hoping to find a wife. What he finds instead is Regulus Black, and he never looks back. But as implied by the era, it won't be easy for them. Background wolfstar, shown as a different approach to a queer relationship in the regency era.

Get Regulus Out - 82k, Rated M, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Working Through Trauma, No War/Riddle AU, background Wolfstar, background Marylily. James tries to convince Regulus to leave Grimmauld Place as Sirius once did, and save himself from his parents.

How to Spot Signs of Jealousy - 4k, fake/pretend relationship, mutual pining, miscommunication. After Regulus gets fed up with people asking him out because of his family name, he and Barty agree to fake date. For some reason, James Potter seems livid...and Regulus can only guess that it's because he's homophobic. That's got to be it, right?

But Where's Regulus - 1k. James on laughing gas after getting his wisdom teeth taken out and talking about how much he likes Regulus

Waking Up Slowly - 2k. James wakes up in bed with Regulus in the Gryffindor dorm, something Sirius might not take kindly to.

I've Read Your Book - 1k. Two one shots based on the same premise: Writer!James didn't even know Regulus knew about his book, let alone had read it, but Regulus comes up to him and says "I've read your book" aka the most exciting words of all time to start a conversation for a writer.

Little Ball of Fire - 1k. Regulus gets into an argument with Snape. Regulus begins threatening him, so James picks Regulus up and carries/drags him out of the room before anyone gets hurt.

Prongsfoot/Bambibelle

What's in a Name - 5k, Soulmates AU, secret crush. In a world where soulmates exist and can identify each other by the feeling they get when they say each other's names, it's pretty easy to identify who your soulmate is. But for Sirius and James who only call each other by their nicknames, it takes a while to finally know.

The Bachelorette - 15k, mutual pining, Bachelorette AU. Sirius and James are both cast as contestants on the Bachelorette. Although their stated goal was to woo Lily and capture her heart, they don’t quite manage it. They fall for each other instead.

A Real Marriage Under Wizarding Law - 6k, mutual pining, fake/pretend relationship, drunken shenanigans. Sirius and James get a quickie drunken marriage in Knockturn Alley. When they wake up in the morning, they decide not to get it annulled so that they can save Sirius from an arranged marriage.

The Only Transfer Students to Ever Come to Hogwarts - 9k, arranged marriage, hijinx, angst with a happy ending. Sirius is upset to learn that not only does he have to transfer to a new school, but his parents have set up an arranged marriage for him. James assures him that's impossible, but Sirius knows his parents don't make empty threats. (Written for Prongsfoot Bingo)

The Smell of Water - 4k, Amortentia, idiots in love. Sirius and James argue about what they're smelling without realizing that there's Amortentia in the room. When Sirius realizes, he becomes a whole mess about it. (Written for Prongsfoot Bingo)

Wolfstar

Wolfstar Microfics Theme: Love - 8k, a collection of 22 microfics themed around love

6x James Found Out, and 1x Harry Did - 10k. Six ways James could have learned about Sirius and Remus' secret relationship, and one way Harry could have learned about it. *This is specifically ATYD fanfiction, and it's set in that universe.

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haikyuuhoo · 2 years

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6:24pm

“You owe me,” Suna hisses, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back over the threshold of his home, closing the front door behind him before you can step inside.

You blink up at him, eyes wide with shock. “I owe you coffee, not an evening of pretending to be your girlfriend to get your parents off your back!” you whisper back, trying to hide yourself with his body from anyone who might be looking through the living room window.

“Just a couple hours, please, I’m desperate,” he begs, not letting go of your wrist.

“Clearly, if you’re asking me.” You drag your free hand down your face with a groan. “I’m not even dressed for this. Why couldn’t you have just told me why you needed me to come over? Prepared me a little in advance?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Would you have come?”

You press your lips into a line, looking between him and the window where you can see shadows of his family members moving around the house. “Probably not.”

“Exactly.” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t act like I don’t know you. C’mon, just a couple hours, and you get a free meal.”

The offer sounds appealing, especially with student loans and your low bank account balance in the back of your mind. “But I have to socialize. You know I hate that.”

A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “So do I. Look, we already make a great fake couple.”

You grimace. “And what if your family hates me?”

“Well then you know you’ll never be called in to be my fake girlfriend again.”

“But I want them to like me as your friend!”

“And they will,” he assures you. “You just have to sit close to me and maybe let me put my arm around your shoulders. It’s not gonna be that hard, I swear.”

Before you have a chance to protest Suna is opening the door again and using his grip on your arm to pull you inside. You catch a glimpse of his sister, and she must see how flustered you are because her brows immediately shoot up and she looks up at her brother.

“I hope you weren’t kissing her out there.”

Suna laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, and you swear you see a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. “I wasn’t, promise.”

“Good, ‘cause Mom was asking for you to set the table, and she’s getting kinda impatient.”

Suna shoots you an apologetic glance, but leads you to the dining room and shows you where you’ll be sitting while he fetches the table settings.

Dinner went about as well as could be expected, as far as fake-girlfriend-meets-the-parents goes. Since you had been friends throughout all four years of university, you two knew each other well and didn’t have to suffer through any of those stressful situations where you had to make up how you met and things you’d done together.

Suna’s father was quiet, observational, and you immediately knew that’s where Suna got his disposition from. If he hadn’t been there, you might have wondered how Suna was his mother’s son, what with how talkative she was.

“Oh, you two are so sweet together. Rintaro hasn’t had a girlfriend in ages, you know, and you—“

“Mom,” Suna groans, and his hand falls to your leg. The action makes you jump. He said an arm around the shoulders, didn’t he? Not a warm palm on your thigh. “She knows already, you don’t need to embarrass me by telling my girlfriend I’m bad with girls.”

“It’s only because you’re so quiet, Rinnie,” his sister chimes in, and you can’t help but smile at the nickname, though it makes Suna blush. “You think too much and I’m sure more girls would like you if you weren’t so—” she waves her hand “—deadpan.”

Suna frowns. “The only girl I want to like me is right here. And clearly she does.”

You can’t help the way your heart clenches at his declaration, though you know it’s just for the act.

His sister laughs. “I wonder what you see in him,” she says to you. “He’s so broody, isn’t he? What did he do to make you decide to give him a chance?”

Besides trick me into coming over here saying he needed my help picking out a shirt to wear for graduation? you think, looking up at him. You’d tried to convince him you could pick over FaceTime, but he insisted you needed to see in person. Clearly, you were gullible. “Well, I think I realized I liked him when he bought me coffee on campus when my school card ran out of money.” You try to fight off a smile at the reference to the debt you were in to him that landed you here in the first place.

But Suna doesn’t even try to hide his laugh, meeting your gaze and squeezing your leg. “Yeah, I’m pretty great, aren’t I?”

You roll your eyes, smacking his arm gently but then leaving your hand on his bicep. Just for show, of course. “Oh, don’t go letting your ego get so big.”

“And what about you, Rintaro?” his mother chimes in, and when you look at her you see her resting her chin on her hands. You remember him telling you what a romantic she was. “When did you decide you liked Y/N?”

He leans back and looks at the ceiling, like he’s thinking about it. “Probably freshman year, when she came in late to our sociology class and had to take the last seat next to me. We got stuck sitting by each other all year.”

You can’t place his grin, but your eyes are wide when you look back up at him. “That long ago? Why didn’t you tell me?” You sound breathless. The question is genuine, and you have to remind yourself this is an act. An easy answer. It’s easy for him to say the first day you met—it’s sweet and will placate his mother.

Suna shrugs and finally brings his arm to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “I dunno, it didn’t really feel necessary. Besides, you know I like you, so why should it matter?”

“Oh, Rintaro, girls like that stuff.” His mother waves her hand at him and then stands up. “I should get these dishes going. Y/N, honey, I’m so glad you could come tonight.”

You nearly shoot out of your chair. “I’d love to help,” you offer, glad for an excuse to be out of Suna’s arms before he can feel how hot your body has gotten.

His mother smiles, and she shoots her son a glance that clearly says I like her.

Once the dishes are done Suna walks you to the front door, his hand in yours, after explaining to his family that you couldn’t stay around to chat because you had plans with friends early the next morning and needed to get back home.

“I’m glad you could come,” Suna says as he opens the front door.

“Yeah, me too,” you say with a small smile, and though you’re not sure whether he’d said it to you as his fake girlfriend or as you, you find yourself meaning it.

His hand that was holding yours rises to your waist, and the world feels like it’s moving in slow motion. You’re suddenly so aware of the warmth of his palm through your shirt, of the way he’s looking at you through half-lidded eyes, and before you can register what’s happening he’s leaning down and pressing his lips against yours—gently, deeply, in a way that’s somehow so exactly Suna.

When he pulls back you two look at each other for probably a few moments too long, breath fanning across each other’s cheeks, both of you clearly in shock. You step away from him, his hand on your body falling away easily and leaving you cold. You lean around his torso to call out a quick “thank you for having me!” into the house before you rush out the still open front door and to your car.

It takes all of your effort not to slam your car door shut as you lean back and close your eyes, trying desperately to catch your breath. Once you do you fish your phone out of your pocket, already preparing to type out a text to Suna along the lines of What the hell was that? or That was not part of our deal! But he beats you to it.

Your breath hitches in your throat as your phone lights up.

I think we should talk.

oh, what’s this? my first fic in forever?? yes and it’s probably rusty and it’s unedited so sorry about that lol. did I write this while avoiding studying? maybe, shhhhhh.

anyway, i’ve missed writing for you all, i hope you enjoy <3

#suna x reader #suna x reader fluff #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x reader fluff #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu!!

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miley1442111 · 23 days

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back to chicago-c.berzatto

a/n: i'm probably going to make this two parts (or more) because I really like this idea so this is part 1. i imagined a fem reader and it's mentioned quite a few times but as usual, imagine what you like. SET AFTER SEASON 2

summary: a double date with your boyfriend at the Bear can only go well, right?

pairings: carmenberzatto x femreader (complicated relationship), platonicthe bear x reader, romantic oc x reader

warnings: general angst, mentions of mikeys death

You and Carmen had grown up together, living across the street from one another. Your childhoods were wildly different, his filled with family drama and personal independence. Yours filled with absent parents and the necessity of independence. You went to school together, went to prom together (as ‘friends’), and you were each other's first kiss. Then, you went off to college for law and business and he went off to cook. You vowed to never go back to Chicago, but stayed in contact with Mikey until he died. Then you came back. You felt a debilitating need to see Mikey off. Watch him be put into the ground. You had hoped Carmen would show up. He didn’t.

You had stayed in Chicago, you had the time and money. Being a successful lawyer in New York was a great gig. Straight out of college you’d gotten a job at a top law firm, and just last year you were made partner. Taking time off for personal reasons wasn’t questioned. Even if it had happened a year ago. Even though you were in Chicago purely for the reason of nostalgia. You’d gone last year for the funeral and this time it was just because something in you missed it.

It felt good to breathe in the Chicago air again as you walked down the darkened streets, ready for a date at a new Chicago restaurant, The Bear. It was where The Beef had been. Devastating how someone just came in and wrecked all of Mikey’s work. You thought to yourself as you opened the door and searched for the man you were meeting. Adrian, an accountant you’d met at a jazz club, was a nice man. He was sweet and reliable, funny and kind and you both got along well. He was never too handsy and always on time… but you still feared full commitment. He waved you over and you sat beside him as he pressed a kiss to your lips, you smiled, greeting his friends. This ‘double date’ thing had been his idea. This restaurant had been his idea, and as you stared Richie Jerimovich in the face, a shocked dumb-founded look on his face, you remembered why you left Chicago in the first place You remembered Carmen always wanted to call his restaurant ‘The Bear’ and you remembered that there was no getting out of this.

Shit.

“Do you two know each other?” Adrian asked, a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back to reality.

“Fuck yeah we do! Cousin, how are you?” Richie smiled, forgoing the formalities and pulling you out of your seat and into a hug.

“Richie, how are you?” You mustered up your best fake smile, trying to keep the gaze of Adrian’s friends unsuspicious.

“I’m great Bug, how are you?” he asked, using the wretched nickname you endured for all those years.

“Bug?” Adrian smiled.

“Childhood nickname,” you explained quickly. “I’m good, Rich, real good.”

“You're a fancy lawyer now huh? What was it, New York right?”

“That’s right,” you smiled. You couldn’t ruin this dinner. Adrian had flown all the way from New York to see you. This was the first time in a month that he’d seen you. Adrian’s friends had to like you. You had to make them like you.

“Sugar’s going to freak out when she sees you,” Richie smiled. You followed Nat on instagram, but refused to like any of her pictures, not wanting her to reach out. You knew she was pregnant. “You won’t believe it, she’s pregnant!”

“Oh my god! I must congratulate her,” you smiled, not realising what that tiny statement would bring.

“I’ll take you to the back now! I’ll give the rest of you guys the tour after,” he smiled at the rest of the table and they seemed to be excited by the prospect of seeing the kitchen so you plastered on a smile, kissed Adrian’s cheek, and let Richie lead the way.

As you edged closer to the kitchen, you could hear voices, but thankfully not Carmen’s. You turned a corner, pushed through the door behind Richie, and you were led to a small office. Inside sat Natalie ‘Sugar’ Berzatto, ‘Uncle Jimmy’, and Carmen fucking Berzatto. You let out a breath.

“Look who came in to say hi,” Richie announced, stepping to the side to stop covering you. Sugar and Jimmy’s eyes lit up and they immediately started to hug you, yet Carmen stayed frozen to his spot against the wall.

“My love, how’s New York?” Jimmy asked, his arms around you.

“It’s great, everything I wanted,” you smiled. Your life was something you felt you could be proud of. You loved New York and you loved your job. You had great friends, friends that were practically family. You had Adrian, he was great and he loved you. Yet you still thought about the Berzattos daily. “Congratulations Natalie!” You turned to her, hugging her side due to her large bump.

You exchanged small talk back and forth with Jimmy and Sugar as Richie and Carmen whispered in the corner. You couldn’t make out what they were saying but it worried you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

carmen

There you were. Standing there, fucking glowing. And here I was, a stained white t-shirt on and a pair of fucking jeans on. You looked beautiful, the type of beautiful that would make me jealous of the guy you were going home to if I saw you walking down the street. What were you doing here? Why the fuck were you standing in my office, looking so damn beautiful, yet so unattainable?

“She’s here with a guy,” Richie whispered into my ear.

“What?” I scoffed.

“She’s here with a guy!” He whispered louder. I felt my blood boil. So you’re here, in my fucking restaurant, with some other fucking guy. Awesome. I searched your hands for an engagement ring, or worse, a wedding ring. I saw none and my ears refocused into the room.

“So?” I sighed, feigning disinterest.

“ ‘So’? Your fucking girl is with another guy. In your restaurant!” Richie snapped.

“She’s not my fucking girl anymore, stop talking outta your ass,” I shoved him, making him leave me alone. My words were deflections. Of course you were my fucking girl, you always would be. You were perfection personified in my eyes, even with any of your flaws. And I wanted you to be my girl, but I got so fucking in my head about it I couldn‘t ask, and then we left and went our separate ways.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You

“Look, I’d better get back to my table, my boyfriend’s waiting-”

“Boyfriend?” Jimmy cut you off. “I thought you and Carmy were dating?”

“Yeah, when we were like 17-” You started but Carmen cut you off.

“We never dated.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Your smile faltered, then faded entirely and it was all Carmen’s fault.

“Look, I’m sure my table is waiting on me to order, it was great to see you guys,” you smiled and left the room, walking back to your table, a sigh leaving your lips.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carmen

“You are such a fuckin’ asshole!” Richie shouted as Sugar and Jimmy sighed. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about ‘we never dated’? You’re still fuckin’ in love with her!”

“Richie just fuck off ok! I don’t have to explain shit to you-” I started but I was cut off by Sugar.

“That was such a shitty thing to say Bear! We haven’t seen that girl in fucking years and of course you had to fucking ruin it. We’ll probably never fucking see her again!”

“I know that was shitty Sugar, I’mf fucking aware!” I started as I walked out of the office and into the kitchen. I wanted to make your food amazing. That was the only way you’d ever forgive me, right?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You

You walked back to your table and answered any and all questions pertaining to your relationships with the Berzattos, leaving out that you had a crush on Carmen. You allowed yourself to peek into the kitchen window and you saw him furiously moving. He was mixing something? You couldn’t see. Adrian’s kissing your shoulder pulled you back to reality. Adrian was great. He knew how hard tonight was for you. He knew about what happened in your childhood. He knew about what happened with Carmen. Adrian’s friends, Emilia and John both got up to take a smoke break and he turned to you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, squeezing your hand.

“Fine, it’s just… messy, I guess.”

“Well you’re doing great. John and Emilia love you,” he smiled and kissed your cheek. “I wouldn’t have picked this place if I knew, I just wanted to see you-”

“I know,” you smiled at him. “I wanted to see you too,” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and he grinned.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” he flirted.

“So do you,” you simply said and he chuckled.

“Such a flirt,” he joked and you laughed, a real laugh. He kissed you again, quick and sweet. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said matter-of-factly and his face lit up. You truly had no idea if you actually loved him. Your commitment issues were constantly getting in the way of your relationships, so you had to do something, telling him you love him, I admit, might’ve been a crazy thing to start with but, you were running out of options.

He kissed you again, less quickly but still polite enough to not be seen as improper. John and Emilia started walking back in, so you pulled away to see him with a boyish grin on his face.

That felt… good? Like it was right?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carmen

I walked out into my own restaurant, nervous as I was when I was 17, asking you to the prom. All you have to do is explain the dishes. I thought to myself. I know my dishes. Richie walked behind me with the other two dishes in his hands, and I took a deep breath. There you were, radiant as ever, laughing along with what someone said. I would do fucking anything to just have your number so I could just text you sometimes.

I walked up, standing beside you and your smile flattened, looking fake.

“Hey Carmen,” you greeted.

“And how do you know the owner?” John asked, excited about all of the attention your table was getting.

“We were-”

“We dated in highschool,” I said before you could finish and John chuckled as your boyfriend put a protective arm around your shoulder. I explained all the dishes and placed them in front of each of your table.

“Thanks Bear,” you mumbled and my heart practically stopped.

“Well, thanks,” your boyfriend gritted out. I smirked.

——————————————————————————————————-

(PART 2)

#the bear fx #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto

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wen-kexing-apologist · 3 months

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Dead Friend Forever: Ep. 5

I want to talk briefly about today’s episode of Dead Friend Forever and how smart I think it is being as we had towards the midpoint of the show. I was worried that 12 episodes was going to be too long for a slasher show, and that still could be the case, however episode 5 and from teh looks of it episode 6 are backstory focused, allowing for some breathing room from the murder and chaos that is currently occuring.

An I for one think they are being really smart with it. I love how we have spent four episodes knowing very little information about the characters, we know something happened, we have every reason to be suspicious of everyone, but we have spent four episodes being allowed to establish our own impressions and relationships with each character. I have always hated Top (but attribute quite a lot of that towards not liking the actor), I liked Fluked in the first episode, and then he started turning creepy. I love White, Por has seemed like a rich asshole from the beginning, and I have been suspicious of but ultimately been enjoying and lowkey rooting for Tee primarily because of his relationship with White.

But now I hate him. Oh I hate him so much. I had to sit here for an hour watching all of these boys, but especially Por, Top, and Tee exploit the fuck out of Non. Tee set Non up to make it look like he broke the camera and then preyed on Non’s poverty to rope him in to the money laundering(?) scheme. Which actually….this is probably cause I just listened to the ‘Tens and Chops’ episode of The Conversation and was reminded of the absolute target that was the abandoned opportunity to discuss class disparities…but Dead Friend Forever seems to be taking the consequences of fucking with poor people for your own amusement.

Por, Top, and Tee exploit Non’s desire to join an in-group, and work him to the bone writing and re-writing, and re-writing, and re-writing, and re-writing the script, probably overusing his medication, getting no sleep, absolutely exhausting himself, and then the second they have what they need out of him, they are back to treating him like shit, leaving Jin to bridge the kindness gap and Fluke to remain quiet. Top breaks the camera, and Tee comes up with the plan to frame Non for it.

And it’s the thing I found interesting because we haven’t fully figured out why the boys hate Non so much, we can assume it’s just that they found a poor person to pick on, based on the nickname that he has. But Tee seems, to me, to have some additional layer of feeling on top of his general group think. Now, I found it interesting that Por is holding Non responsible for the damage to his camera, and demanding 200,000 bhat from Non an impossibly high sum of money for Non and his family and a stressor so large that Non almost kills himself over it. But Por isn’t actually the person the most directly responsible for causing that level of emotional distress, because Top and Tee set up the situation in the first place so Por wouldn’t find out that Top broke it.

And Tee goes an additional step further, in his own desperation to maintain a steady cash flow for himself from his uncle, by exploiting the situation he caused with Non to get him to open a bank account that will assist Tee and his family in continuing their illegal business operations. Por is a rich asshole, Top is just an asshole, but Tee? Tee is a calculated asshole. I love what they are setting up with Fluke as well, because he saw Top break the camera, and was told to keep his mouth shut. He knows how unfair this entire situation is, he sees how distressed Non is, you know based on the fact that he literally flicks Top off because he doesn’t agree with what Top and Tee are doing, but he does not speak up. If Non had killed himself that evening, Fluke’s silence would have made him just as much of a contributor to the situation as Tee and Top for setting it up.

And from my perspective, it looks like they are setting up a potential predatory plotline between the evening tutoring teacher and Non. And if that were to be seen through, it would be Por, whose desire to control every aspect of Non’s life while he worked on the script, who would have some culpability of putting Non in to the situation, considering he paid for Non to attend the classes. I have not gone back yet, but I do plan to do so, to watch Episode 1 with the new information and insight I have in to these characters from today’s episode. But I know @ginnymoonbeam has actually gone back to watch the first episode and found the dynamics between characters so much more distinct with the new information. I love that. I love that this show is setting up a situation where there is something important to be gained from rewatching the show. I have no idea if this show will stick the landing, I still am not quite sure how they are going to swing 7 more episodes of it, I think the writing could be stronger. BUT so far they have structured their show and especially today’s episode very wisely.

Anyway, props to this show for making me change my min in a single episode because now I am sitting happily aboard the Fuck Them Kids train. Murder that og friend group with an axe. Let Por bleed out from the tree branch. Let Top get possessed. Don't care, they deserve it.

#dead friend forever #dff #dff ep 5 #the writing and some of the acting could certainly be stronger #and I am worried about the sustainability of this show for 12 episodes #but.#I think they have placed their episodes well so far #i look forward to miserable and painful deaths for Top and Tee

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tswaney17 · 9 months

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I Do Bad Things with You - Part 41

Happy 3rd Anniversary, IDBTWY!! 🎉 I can't believe we're celebrating three years of this fic. This journey has been incredible and I'm so excited (and a little sad) to say that we are close to finishing this story. I'm very close to getting this on a regular publishing schedule. But in the meantime, please check out the art I had commissioned by the incredible SnCinder here. 💙💚💜

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

Word Count: 12,145

It was three days before their wedding and the only thing Azriel felt was utter bliss. He couldn’t believe that in just a short time, he would have Elain as his wife. Even though they were eloping to the Summer District, they’d been head down in wedding plans over the last month.

Elain and her sisters went shopping for her dress a few weeks ago, finding—according to El—the perfect dress that didn’t require any alterations. She refused to let him see it, claiming that even though they were eloping, the rules of bad luck still applied. He had to snort at the notion, but Az would admit that not knowing what she was wearing had him curiously wondering what it would look like. He pictured many different styles in his head, all of which Elain was absolutely stunning in.

He had been in charge of the rings, Elain claiming that if he could pick out the most perfect engagement ring, then she trusted him fully to select her wedding band. His jeweler managed to match the style of her ring, adding a few extra smaller diamonds to the set. He selected a titanium, black band for himself, having Elain’s name engraved on the inside of it. Az thought the black and rose-gold colors would compliment each other well, and when he put them together, he knew he was right.

Now they were sitting on the jet, waiting for the rest of their family to arrive. Rhys and Feyre were not far behind them in getting to the airstrip. Nuala and Cerridwen—as he and Elain had decided were family—were also joining them. The Moonbeam twins picked them up from the penthouse and were also coming along, both as security and because Elain considered them like family as well. All that was left was Cassian, Nesta, and Sutton.

The new parents decided that since they could travel by private jet, they felt comfortable bringing their new baby on board—since neither of them wanted to miss their siblings getting married. When they boarded, looking slightly disheveled, they apologized for the delay, claiming Sutton was fussing and they struggled to get her to calm down.

Elain moved towards her sister, taking her niece from Nesta’s arms. “Hello, beautiful girl,” she cooed, snuggling into the baby.

Azriel watched as his fiancée’s maternal instinct took over, soothing the child when she started to fidget.

Cassian approached his side, taking in the scene between his sister and daughter. “She’s a natural mother. You’ll be eternally grateful for that instinct deeply rooted in her when you two have kids.”

He didn’t bother responding, not even knowing if Elain wanted kids. Az had been waiting for her to bring it up, but when she hadn’t even after they got engaged, he started to believe that perhaps she was happy just being an aunt. She had put so much work into her career, he wouldn’t blame her for not wanting to take away from that. Even though he had some deep desire to get Elain pregnant, to watch her grow with life inside of her, their children, he didn’t want to put that pressure on her if it wasn’t something she wanted.

So, he didn’t say anything at all, content to just live with her.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked his brother instead.

Cash saw the change in the subject for what it was, shaking his head with a sigh, but let it go. “Sure.”

Azriel popped a bottle of champagne, serving everyone a glass aside from Nesta who declined because she was still breastfeeding and took the flute of sparkling cider in replacement.

“To the bride and groom,” Rhys announced, raising a glass.

He wrapped an arm around Elain’s waist, tucking her into his side while she held their niece in one arm and her champagne in the other. It was hard not to picture them as a little family, but he gripped that dream in a fist until it was a fleeting thought. He wanted nothing more than to marry the love of his life and wouldn’t let anything ruin it.

~~~~~

As soon as their flight landed and they arrived at the house—their entire family in disbelief at what they had purchased—everyone was tasked with something for the wedding. Meeting with the caterer, getting the arch and chairs they rented for the ceremony delivered, confirming the photographer, checking in with the florist on Elain’s bouquet, the petals that Nesta would help Sutton toss along the beach, and arrangements for the tables they were setting up on their courtyard.

There was one other thing Elain still had to do, pulling Cash aside before the rehearsal dinner.

“What’s up, Ellie?” he asked, a look of concern on his face.

Pink touched her cheeks, the only hint of her nervousness. “So, I know you’re Az’s best man, but you have been such an important part of my life. You’ve always protected me and taken care of me, especially when I felt utterly alone in the world. I was wondering—or hoping—you would walk me down the aisle tomorrow before you stand next to Azriel?”

Shock rippled across Cassian’s face. It was obvious that he had not been expecting her to ask him that. “Elain,” he said, emotion clogging his voice. “It would be my absolute honor to walk you down the aisle.” Tears lined his eyes as he pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

“Thank you, Cash,” she murmured, trying and failing to hold back her tears.

That night, Azriel and the other men stayed in the guest house, giving the main one to the girls.

“No strippers, boys,” she said as they tugged Az away from her.

“The same could be said for you,” Rhys called out, giving her a wink.

Her fiancé growled, slapping his brother up the side of his head.

Elain laughed. “Believe me, the only man I want to see stripping is staying with you.”

“I’m happily taken, Ellie!” Cash called out flashing the cheekiest of grins.

She could only shake her head at their antics, returning to the main house where the girls were waiting for her with drinks, games, and a bride-sash.

“Since we didn’t have time to host a bridal shower and bachelorette party beforehand, we’re improvising,” Feyre announced, throwing the sash over her head and guiding her to the living room where they had decorated for their little party.

The whole night was perfect, celebrating her final night as an unmarried woman.

The next day was filled with a flurry of commotion, everyone getting ready for the wedding. Feyre had stuck Elain in a chair and was painting magic on her face while Nuala and Cerridwen worked on her hair, curling it into gorgeous beach waves and tying half it up into a knot at the crown of her head. They wove flowers into the knot atop her head and behind her ear.

When she looked in the mirror, Elain gasped. It was beyond stunning the work they had done on her. “Thank you,” she whispered, trying to hold back her tears so she didn’t ruin her makeup. “All of you. I’m so grateful to have you all here with me.”

“There’s nowhere else we’d rather be, Ellie,” Nesta told her, hugging her from the back. “Come on, let’s get your dress on.” Her sister walked over to the garment bag and unzipped it.

Untying her white robe, Elain slipped on the dress behind the partition, coming out only to have help buttoning up the back. The dress was simply gorgeous. The bodice was made up of floral lace, plunging to just above her belly button while keeping her modestly covered. Delicate, thin straps of the same floral pattern went over her shoulders to the scooped back. The tulle skirt gathered at her waist, adding a layer over the lace skirt that sucked into her legs. It gave her this gorgeous silhouette under the gown.

Elain would go barefoot for the ceremony on the beach, wearing jeweled barefoot sandals that hooked over her middle toe and around her ankle. She had a pair of white heels she’d put on for the reception in the courtyard, once she was back on solid ground.

She slipped on the halo sapphire and diamond earrings that Azriel had gifted to her for her birthday—the only jewelry she wore aside from her engagement ring. They were one of her something blue, the other a cobalt garter in testament to Az’s favorite color. Grabbing the perfume she bought specifically for the wedding, Elain gave herself a few sprits, letting the delicate jasmine scent wash over her before making her way downstairs to the living area where Feyre, Nesta carrying Sutton, and Cash were waiting for her.

“Elain,” Cassian said her name with such reverence that she almost broke down right there. “You look so beautiful.”

Her pink lips pulled up into a joyous smile. “Thank you, Cash.” She hugged him, careful not to smudge her makeup on his suit jacket.

“Ready?” Feyre asked, handing her the blush-colored bouquet of peonies. The florist had done a stellar job with the bridal bouquets and centerpieces for the table.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything,” she said. Elain had waited for a decade to marry Azriel. Her excitement to finally get the chance left her breathless.

Though Feyre was Elain’s maid of honor, she walked down the aisle first since Nesta was carrying the flower girl.

Elain watched her sisters walk through the courtyard, out to the beach where they had set up the arch, decorated with more flowers. Where Azriel awaited her.

Cassian helped her out the door, holding a bit of her dress for her so it didn’t drag too much until they reached the edge of the courtyard and waited for the queue with the change of the music.

Elain and Azriel had picked strictly piano pieces to use for their ceremony and reception. It was fitting to them since that was how he proposed and they spent countless hours listening and him playing it.

Her brother fixed her dress one last time before offering her his arm. “Thank you for choosing him,” he said so quietly she almost missed it.

She furrowed her brow looking up at him, waiting for him to continue.

“I always worried that Azriel would never find happiness after high school. I watched my brother enter this cruel world intending to own it, even if it destroyed him in the very process. I thought I was going to lose him for a while…He’d been so depressed, I worried for his life.” Those pain-filled eyes looked down at her.

She knew Az had some internal struggles, but she didn’t know how bad it was. It broke her heart to hear that Cassian had feared for Az’s life.

“The one thing he never lost was his love for you,” he continued, likely noticing her inner sorrow, but needing to tell her this anyways. “And I’m so thankful that you forgave him for his past mistakes. The only time I ever saw Azriel happy was when he was with you, Elain. You are the world in which he revolves around. His entire being is to keep you safe and to love you, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before.

“Thank you for loving him in the way he deserves but never letting himself have.” Cassian’s eyes misted over by the time he finished and she struggled to not let herself cry at the confession.

“He is worth loving,” she admitted, looking out towards the beach like she could see him from where she stood.

“That he is,” Cassian murmured as the music changed, indicating it was time.

The few steps to the beach seemed like a lifetime until she turned the corner and saw him standing at the altar, waiting for her.

Even this far away, she could hear his choked sound at the sight of her. His face crumpled in elation as he wiped tears from under his eyes.

Elain’s hold on her damn broke and she let out a sob, face splitting in the most adoring grin. Only Cassian’s firm grip on her arm prevented her from running down the aisle and leaping into his arms.

After what felt like an eternity, Cassian was leaning over to kiss her cheek, and offering her hand to Azriel before taking his place at his side.

She handed off her bouquet to Feyre so she could take his hands.

Unable to help himself, Az leaned forward to brush his lips on her cheek before he gently pulled her forward until she was facing him. “You look…” he paused, silver-lined eyes scanning her from head to toe. “I have no words to describe how exquisite you look, El. You’re radiant.”

She choked on her laugh, her face morphing into actual rays of sunshine. “Thank you, Az. You look beautiful, too.” And she meant it. He had on a brand-new suit, cut to every defined muscle. He wore a crisp, white button-up underneath the jacket with a blush-colored tie around his neck. Even the peony boutonnière contrasted perfectly with his tanned complexion.

Rhys cleared his throat, recapturing their attention. He gave them a knowing smile. “It brings me great joy to officiate the wedding between Azriel Knight and Elain Archeron. Azriel, my brother, you have been a part of my family since we were kids. Though our relationship started rocky—”

“You beat the snot out of me that first night,” Az muttered making everyone laugh.

Their brother waved a hand. “Semantics. It didn’t take us long to warm up to each other, finding that brotherly bond we both needed. I’m grateful every day that we took you in—that we became family.”

Those violet eyes turned to her. “Elain, my darling Elain. You have always been like a little sister to me. Even before Feyre and I started dating and later got married, you’ve held this special place in my heart to love, to protect. When you and Azriel began dating in high school, I was ecstatic because I always hoped you would one day become a part of my family. And you’re now a part of it in more ways than one.”

She released one of Az’s hands to grip Rhys’s forearm, squeezing it once before returning it to her fiancé.

“I’ve never met two people more perfect for each other. Where one hides in the shadows, the other shines. You two lift each other up in the best of ways and I have no doubt in my mind you will build the most perfect life together. I believe you both wrote your vows. Elain, if you would please go ahead.”

Her brown eyes, reflecting pools of gold in the setting sunlight looked at her husband-to-be. “Azriel, you are the strongest, most considerate man I have ever known. Our love has definitely been tested to limits that most couples never experience, but I know that makes us more solid in the foundations of our marriage.” He chuckled at how true it was. “I know that when in moments of hopelessness, you will lend me your strength. In times of sorrow, you will give me your love. When the world around me becomes too loud, you will hold me close and protect me.

“You are so many things that it sometimes makes my head spin because how could you possibly be every dream I wished for myself to find in a lover? You have broken down every fear; every mark on my life and filled it with joy. I will love you with my entire being because you deserve that from me. You deserve to feel my elation in the life we have created together. I love you more than words could ever express. My life partner. My friend. My soulmate. My husband.” Tears rolled down her cheek and he reached out, swiping them away, ignoring how his face was also wet from waterworks.

Rhys turned to his brother. “Azriel, would you please say your vows?”

He took a steadying breath. “Fuck, I should’ve gone first,” he said quietly to her.

She couldn’t help but tip her head back and laugh.

“Elain Archeron.” Her name curled on his tongue. “You are, without a doubt, the light of my life. A decade ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life by letting you go and the gods know I didn’t deserve your forgiveness for it, but you gave it to me anyways. I sometimes have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. To verify you’re actually here with me.” She squeezed his hands in reassurance. “You have the most generous heart I have ever seen; have ever had the pleasure of being held within.

“You claim that I am strong, but my strength comes from you. Your resilience is unparallel. You have made me a better man, one who will love you faithfully even after we are but dust in the wind. I promise to share my life with you. To hold you in times of need and when you require a sturdy presence. I promise to help you pursue your dreams. To take you on adventures and everything else your heart desires. I consider myself the luckiest person in the world to get to call you mine. My light. My heart. My love. My wife.”

Rhys had to wipe a tear from his eye, clearing his throat to rein in the emotion he was feeling. “May I have the rings?”

Cassian slipped behind Azriel to hand his other brother the two rings.

Rhys handed them each one. “Elain, do you take Azriel to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold? In sickness and in health? From now and forever?”

“I do,” she said, sliding the black band onto his scarred ring finger.

“And do you, Azriel, take Elain to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold? In sickness and in health? From now and forever?”

Az’s dazzling smile lit up the world around them. “I do.” He slipped the beautiful rose gold band onto her delicate finger.

Rhys clapped his hands together. “Well, thank god for that!” he teased. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

The powerful male in front of her stepped forward, slinking one hand around her waist, the other cradling her head, and pressed his lips on hers.

Elain felt her back arch as he leaned them over, gently prying her mouth open so his tongue could slip inside. The kiss was languid like they took the time to learn about each other as husband and wife. Her fingers went to his nape, ruffling the hair there.

Time slowed as if even the world paused for that kiss. The kiss that certified them as one. A unit. And when they finally broke apart, when the sounds of their family’s cheers entered their ears, neither could look away from the other. An unbreakable chain linked between their souls, connecting them in the most intrinsic of ways.

He was hers and she was his. Now and forever.

“I love you, Elain,” he whispered, bringing her back in for another kiss, arms going around her lithe body to lift her off the ground.

She erupted into a fit of giggles, eyes shining with more tears, with love, with devotion for the man in front of her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Azriel and Elain Archeron-Knight!”

Grabbing her bouquet, she took Azriel’s hand as they walked back down the aisle toward the house. But about halfway back, he leaned down and lifted her over his shoulder, making her squeal. “Azriel!” she shouted, laughter echoing around them. “Put me down!”

He hauled her over his body until he was carrying her bridal style. “No,” he grinned, leaning forward to kiss her as he made the trek back into the courtyard.

Elain welcomed the kiss, wrapping her arms and the bouquet around the backside of his head and holding him there for a few extra seconds. The flash of the photographer lit up their bodies, but they didn’t care as they just held each other’s stare. She traced her index finger over his cheek. “Hi husband,” she whispered shyly.

His smile was too infectious to not beam back at him. It made him look so young, boyish. “My wife,” he murmured, nudging his nose into hers. Azriel set her back on her feet, pulling her close and never letting go.

~~~

Azriel was her husband. Elain couldn’t believe that after everything they’d been through—waiting a decade for this moment—it was finally here. Everything about this moment was completely different from anything she ever shared with Graysen.

Graysen’s priority had always been himself. She didn’t even think she was in his top five important things in his life. Their entire relationship had been based on their fathers’ friendship and a setup—and she had just let it go on, not really living, but simply existing.

It was nothing like the life, the love, she’d built with Azriel. This had been wholly hers. Her decision, her choices, her life.

They’d only been married for a few hours and she couldn’t help but think of how well it suited him. He couldn’t keep his hands off her (more than he normally couldn’t). Taking her hand in his large one, setting one on her thigh while they ate, tugging her onto the makeshift dance floor by the edge of the pool. Whatever they were doing, he couldn’t seem to let her go.

And she had no desire for him to stop. Currently, she was tucked into his arms under the twinkling lights as they swayed to the soft piano music. Her hand was curled in his, head resting on his chest as she listened to his thundering heartbeat.

Every once in a while, she’d let out a contented sigh and found herself somehow melting further into his embrace. He tucked her under his chin, giving him ample opportunities to lean down and press his lips to the crown of her head.

Elain had wrapped her arm around his waist, sliding it under his suit jacket so her palm laid on the backside of his button-up. Her fingers would flex, pressing the pads of them into the strong muscles of his back.

It was late evening. Nesta retired to the house earlier, taking a sleeping Sutton to lay her down, and never returned. Cassian followed shortly after, looking for his wife, and if Elain had to guess, found her asleep still in her dress.

Fenrys and Connall had sat with Cerridwen and Nuala on the porch patio and were chatting. Had been nearly all evening, but not before each of them took her and Azriel for a round on the dancefloor.

Her other sister and husband were twirling next to them, enjoying the soft sounds of the night around them.

Azriel pressed his lips to the top of her head again. “Would you like to head in now?” he asked her quietly.

Elain tipped her face up, a beautiful smile painted on her pink lips. “Sure.”

He gave her a soft kiss before leading her not to the main house, but to the adjacent one. She looked at him with confusion when he glanced over his shoulder at her. “I thought we could take the guest house tonight, so we don’t have to worry about anyone overhearing us.”

A cheeky smile threatened to turn up her mouth. “Azriel Archeron-Knight, are you trying to get into my skirt?” she teased, giggling.

He flashed her a heated look. “Always.” And then swung open the door.

Elain couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her, taking a single step forward. But before she could even get to the doorway, she was scooped up into his arms and carried over the threshold. She squealed in delight, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her in, kicking the door shut behind him.

The whole place was lit up with candles. Rose petals littered the floor, leading up the stairs and, what she assumed would be into a bedroom.

“Az,” she cried, eyes wide in astonishment. “Did you do this?” she asked as he set her back on her feet.

His hands came down onto her shoulders, thumbs swooping over the bare skin. “I had some help,” he admitted. “After our poker game last night, the guys helped me set up the candles. Nuala and Cer came in during the reception to sprinkle the rose petals and light everything.”

“It’s beautiful,” she told him. And it was, completely and totally romantic. Turning to face him, she kissed him hard. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, stroking his.

Azriel gripped her rear end, molding the flesh to his scarred palms and making her whimper. He sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, the sensation pulling a heeding sound from her throat. Breaking off the kiss, Az took her hand and led her up the stairs toward the bedroom.

The bed wasn’t their usual size, but Elain had no doubt he could worship her like how she imagined he would.

Taking his phone from his pocket, Az turned on the same music they had playing all evening.

Her lips quirked up in the corner. “Setting the mood?”

He chuckled. “Something like that.” Azriel flicked his wrist in a circular motion. “Turn around.”

She did as requested, turning to give him access to her back.

His fingers slid into her thick, soft hair, plucking the loose flowers from her locks. He pulled the pin from her knot, letting the rest of her hair drape down her back. Gently, those scarred fingers grazed over her scalp, massaging.

Elain hummed in pleasure.

Azriel swept her hair over her shoulder, giving him access to the line of buttons that ran down her spine. He took his time opening each one, kissing at the patch of creamy skin it revealed as he went until he reached the final one just above the swell of her ass. “May I?” he asked her, fingering the delicate straps.

She nodded. “Please.”

Azriel slowly dragged her dress down her body, offering his shoulder to help her step out of it. His eyes dragged over every inch of the white lingerie she wore, all the way down to the cobalt-colored garter that adorned her luscious thigh. “Fuck me, Elain,” he groaned, moving to hang her dress up before turning to look back at her.

She appreciated he took extra care to hang her dress so it wouldn’t get ruined. Flashing him with a mirthful smile, she said, “I plan to.”

His long, powerful legs swallowed the space between them in two single strides as he crashed their lips together, nudging her toward the bed and carefully laying her down on top of it. He kissed her deeply, with long, sensual strokes from his tongue until their mouths were bruised and swollen. His hands swept over her body, feeling the texture of the lace. “I believe I was supposed to take this off with my teeth,” he mumbled against her lips, thumbing the garter.

He kissed down her body, in the valley between her breasts, over the soft swell of her tummy, across her hip, and down her thigh to where the garter sat, leaving little marks as he went. She squirmed under his machinations, but he didn’t let up, taking his time with each place he sucked a bruise onto. His teeth clamped down on the frilly fabric, slowly dragging it down her knee, her calf, and off her foot, tossing it over his shoulder.

She laughed at the audacity of it.

Gripping her hips, he made his way back up her body, only stopping at her neck to lick and suck at her delicate skin.

Elain’s fingers got to work, shoving his jacket off his shoulders, followed by his tie from around his neck, but he stopped her from tossing it on the floor.

Taking the silk fabric, he smirked, telling her, “We’ll save this for later,” and set it aside on the bed.

Heat pooled between her legs at the promise. As of now, he had yet to tie her up, but Elain wouldn’t lie and say the idea hadn’t crossed her mind. To be immobilized by him and only him made her blood heat.

Sensing her growing need, he rolled his hips into hers, giving her just a taste of what was to come.

Azriel didn’t seem to know where to touch her first, so he kept his hands moving in possessive little touches across her body. Pinching her nipples, gripping her hips, spreading her lush thighs apart so he could settle more firmly into their cradle. No matter what he did, it just made her ache for him.

She needed to feel him. Feel his skin on hers, sliding against the lace of her lingerie. “Az,” she whined. “Take it off, please. I want to feel you.” Elain pushed at his shirt, trying to unbutton it.

He obliged her, rising to shed his button-up, and then flicked open his belt to strip out of his pants. Az seemed to care much less about his expensive suit than her dress, tossing the garments onto the floor. In his boxers only, he crawled over her.

Her hands scratched at his skin, sliding up his sides to hook around his shoulders. Elain prided herself in knowing his body thoroughly. She knew every scar, every ridge, every whorl of ink. So, when he lay back on top of her, she immediately noticed something new on his chest.

“You look so fucking beautiful, Elain,” he groaned into her neck, sucking on her pulse point.

But her hands were on his shoulders, pushing him up to get a better look at whatever he had added to his chest. Her eyes went wide in shock, finger tracing the new whorl of ink on his pectoral, right over his heart. Because, holy fuck, that was her name he added. “When did you get this?” she asked, her eyes flicking up to his in wonderment.

A smile curved up the corner of his mouth. “A few days ago.” Which, kind of explained why she hadn’t seen it since they agreed to hold off on sex the past week to make tonight more special. And why he wore a T-shirt to bed the last few nights.

“It’s my handwriting,” she deadpanned. How did he have this perfectly done?

A blush heated his cheeks as he looked down at her with such love and devotion, she felt it in the very marrow of her bones. “I took a photo of your signature on our marriage license and sent it to the artist to create a stencil. I wanted your essence imprinted on me forever. Your handwriting, your name, permanently marked over my heart where you belong.”

Elain was desperately trying to swallow the emotion that had choked her. This man. This wonderful, incredible, selfless man tattooed her name on his body to always keep her close to his heart. She didn’t think she could love him any more than she already did, but he continuously proved her wrong.

Leaning her head forward, she kissed him right over that ink, then cupped his face in her palms; let her thumbs trace lightly over the apples of his cheeks. “Make love to me, Azriel.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, taking her hands from his face and lacing their fingers together by the side of her head. He sucked and licked the soft swells of her breasts, plumped up from the lingerie she was still wearing. His mouth attached to her nipple through the lacy fabric, pulling the point deep into his mouth until her back arched.

She raised her hips, rubbing them together. The wet spot on her panties would’ve told him just how desperate she was for him. It matched the one on his boxer briefs.

Az released her hands to work on the straps of her lingerie, pulling the white lace off her until she was completely bare before him. His thumb gently stroked her slit, grazing her clit just so, sending bolts of pleasure through her body.

Elain’s fingers slid into his dark locks, mussing them as she tugged him closer to where she needed him.

“Tell me what you want me to do, El,” he groaned, sliding his nose into the crease of her thigh.

A hot, needy sound tumbled from her throat, but she said the words that she knew would elicit actions. “Feast, husband.”

He growled, lapping at her entrance before plunging his tongue inside of her. He licked and slurped at her like she was the last thing he’d ever eat. It felt so good, she was nearly delirious with pleasure. Sliding two fingers into her, he pumped slowly, stretching her. “You’re so fucking close already, I can feel you quivering around my hand.”

Elain threw her head back, eyes squeezed shut as she focused on the pull, deep in her gut. Her hips undulated into him and she tugged his head down to where she needed him. Wanted him. “Please, Az,” she cried.

Knowing exactly what she was asking for, he sucked her clit between his teeth, finally drawing her to the brink, and pushing her off.

Elain shattered on his tongue, screaming out his name and tightening her grip on his hair hard enough that he groaned against her, the vibrations sending her spiraling.

He didn’t stop until she went limp, licking every drop she gave him. Azriel looked up at her from between her legs, her release dripping off his lips, and fuck, did the sight have her body trembling for more.

Using his hair as leverage, she pulled him up her body until she could kiss him. Elain moaned at the taste of herself on his tongue.

Brushing hair off her forehead, he smiled down at her. “Hi, wife.”

Those words made butterflies erupt in her stomach, her heart pounding against her ribcage. Azriel could’ve made his vow to her from that look alone, with so much love and longing, Elain knew he was feeling the same emotions as she was.

She reached down, cupping him in her small palm and earning a hiss as he pumped into her hand.

“Still need more from me?” he teased.

“I need everything from you.”

Heat flashed in his eyes. Crawling off her, he stripped out of his boxers, that last piece of clothing between them, then resituated himself between her legs. Azriel rubbed himself over her drenched slit, coating him in her release and adding friction to her clit.

Elain’s head tipped back as a moan crested from her lips.

He took advantage of the exposed skin, attaching his mouth to her neck and sucking a bruising mark into her skin. She loved his love bites, loved when he covered her in his marks like he was staking a claim.

Blindly reaching, Az grabbed the tie from the other side of the bed and held it between them. “Do you trust me?”

The corner of Elain’s lips quirked up. “A little late asking me that since I just married you.”

He pinched her butt cheek in reprimand making her squeal.

“Yes, of course, I trust you.”

“Give me your hands.” It was a soft command, but she listened, bringing her palms forward and presenting them to him. Azriel wrapped the small end of his tie around her, binding her arms together at her wrists with the soft silk. “Is that too tight?” he asked, sliding a finger under the fabric.

She shook her head. “No.”

He kissed her fingers. “If you become uncomfortable at all, tell me.” And then he pushed her arms above her head. “Don’t move these.”

Elain felt herself shudder, stretching out her body as he leaned over her again, mouth going straight for her neck. Her husband’s neck kink was out in full force that night and she loved every bite, every swipe of his tongue on the sensitive skin.

His hips rutted into her, sliding himself through her lower lips and coating his cock with her arousal.

It was heavenly. From the sensual tug of his teeth and the friction he applied between her legs, Elain felt herself slicken even further. “Azriel,” she groaned, arms aching to go around his neck but remaining still above her head. “Please. I need you inside me.”

Grabbing her plump thigh, he hefted it onto his shoulder, splitting her open. The head of his cock nudged at her entrance before he rolled his hips, sliding into her with ease.

Her back arched as he entered her, his grunts of pleasure from her clenching around him only enticed her further.

“El, fucking hell. If you keep doing that, I’m going to come before I’m even seated,” he complained, lips pulling her pert nipple into his mouth and sucking.

She couldn’t stop the cry from escaping her as he filled her to the brim. His cock sheathed in her warm heat was better than any feeling. She couldn’t explain how the fullness made her whimper from pleasure but also feel at home at the same time. Elain wrapped her other leg around his hips, urging him to move.

And move he did. Long, slow thrusts had her seeing stars when he hit that spot deep inside her. Everything he gave her was measured, from how far he pulled out, to how fast he pushed himself into her.

She needed him harder. Deeper. “Fuck me, Azriel. Like you mean it,” she growled.

His teeth bit down on her nipple in reprimand and, fuck, did she feel it everywhere. Pain mixed with pleasure. But he did as she demanded, snapping his hips into hers and building her up, up, up until she teetered on the edge of her pleasure.

He released her nipple, lips traveling up her jaw to find her own as he thrust into her again. Az grabbed the large end of his tie, wrapped it around his hand, and pinned it to the wall as he fucked her harder, the headboard slamming into the plaster with enough force to leave a dent.

But she didn’t care. She didn’t care about the goddamn wall, or how her arms ached, or that their family might hear them if they were still outside. All she cared about was the wonderful, delicious feeling that grew low in her belly.

Azriel’s tongue licked up her neck, sucking her delicate skin. He angled his hips up to catch her clit with every thrust. It was what she needed to send her shattering into a million little pieces.

Elain’s cries were smothered by his mouth like he wanted to swallow every sound she made.

It only took a few more thrusts before he careened into his orgasm, spilling himself deep inside her, her body milking him.

Azriel collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily into her neck as she fought to catch her own. He brought his arm down, pulling her hands until he could slip his head between her arms. She carded her fingers through his damp hair, scratching at his scalp. He hummed in contentment.

They lay there for a while, snuggled into each other’s embrace, Elain brushing her lips on the top of his head.

After a few moments, he was tugging himself out of her sensitive center, kissing the wince away before sliding out of her arms and sitting up. Az carefully untied her silk from her wrists, dropping, even more, kisses to where they had been bound. “How was that?”

She hummed, a soft smile painted on her lips as she circled her free wrists. “That was better than amazing.”

“Better than amazing, hmm?” he murmured, nudging his nose into her cheek.

Affectionate Azriel was one of her favorites—his need for physical touch after they had sex always led to some cuddling. So, she was quite surprised when he began climbing off her. “Where are you going?” she complained, reaching out for him, but her weary arm fell to the mattress with a thud.

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her lips once more. “I’ll be right back.” Azriel walked over to his suitcase, sitting in the corner of the room.

Elain rolled onto her side, propping her head on her fist, and watched him stoop down. “Nice ass, husband.”

Her comment had him laughing, deep and full-bellied. He glanced over his shoulder at her, humor dancing in those dark eyes. Grabbing whatever he needed from his bag, he walked back over to her with a mischievous grin. “Since this is our wedding night, I thought we could make it traditional in that we take your last virginity.”

She raised a brow. “Virginity? Az, what are you talking—” Elain paused, taking in the items he presented to her in his palms. The pink vibrator, a tube of lube, and a plug were cradled in his hands. “You want to take my ass?” she asked in disbelief.

“You make it sound so dirty,” he snickered, kneeling on the bed. “And only if you want to. I know we’ve discussed it lightly before, but I brought everything we’d need if you want to explore it.”

Pink rushed to her cheeks, dripping down her chest. She’d be lying if she said the idea hadn’t prickled her curious mind. Whenever he touched her there, her pleasure always intensified. It felt so forbidden, but so right at the same time. Her eyes traveled from the items still in his palms back to his face. “Okay,” she breathed.

Setting everything on the bed, he kissed her belly, smiling into her skin. “My good girl,” he murmured, the words igniting something inside her. “On your knees.”

Elain rolled over, rising onto all fours. Her stomach clenched in anticipation.

Az placed another kiss at the bottom of her spine, kneading her behind. “You have less give back here, so we’re going to take this nice and slow. But I need you to tell me when it’s getting close to being too much to handle, and when you’ve reached your limit. We don’t go past anything that you’re uncomfortable with. Okay?”

She nodded, flipping her hair over her shoulder to look back at him. “I understand.”

“Good girl. We’ll start with my fingers to get you stretched, then I’m going to try and insert this plug.” He leaned over her to show her the plug again. Elain ran a finger over the cool metal. “First off,” he started, setting the plug back on the bed, “we need to get you stimulated.” Azriel slid two fingers inside of her, wetting them with their combined releases.

Elain moaned as he thrust into her, filling her, stretching her. Pulling his digits from her cunt, her body clenching around nothing, he then slowly inserted the toy. They had only played with it a few times, but it had become one of her favorite things to pull out when they got hot and heavy. She waited in baited silence for that first vibration, jolting at the first flick from his fingers on his phone. Hips stuttering, she bowed her head, moaning.

“Easy, love,” he murmured, stroking up to her rosebud. Az worked her opening with his two fingers. The squeeze was tight, but then she felt him add a generous amount of lube, slickening her hole and allowing him to slip in both digits to his knuckle.

She whimpered, rocking back onto his hand. The sensation of his fingers pumping in and out of her, the vibrations from the toy in her pussy had her sprinting towards her next orgasm.

But as soon as he felt her crest, Az pulled out of her behind.

Elain was close to crying out when she felt the plug being pushed into her gaping back hole. Holy fuck, the plug was larger than his two fingers. She whimpered as her body stretched to accommodate the toy, bordering on painful.

“You’re doing so well, my good girl. Breathe, love.”

She took shallow breaths, eyes screwing shut. “Az,” Elain cried out his name. “It hurts.” Her fingers tightened on the sheets beneath her palms.

Immediately he pulled back slightly, giving her body some relief. “Do you want to stop, Elain?”

Did she want to stop? No—she didn’t. Elain wanted this. “No,” she breathed, head bowing. “Just give me a second.”

He kissed her sweaty back, reaching between her legs her to lazily rub at her clit.

“How much further until the plug is seated?” she panted, glancing over her shoulder at him.

Azriel’s burning gaze was already on her face, the hunger she saw nearly made her quiver. “About a half inch until you reach the jewel. Once it’s in, it shouldn’t hurt anymore.”

Elain swallowed, nodding. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Are you sure, El? We don’t have to do this.”

She reached back, grabbed his knee—the only thing she could grasp—and squeezed it. “I’m okay. I want to continue.”

Adding more lube to her back entrance, he continued, twisting the plug back and forth to add to the pleasurable sensation.

The break was exactly what her body needed, because, after another moment or two, Elain felt the plug settle into her ass. She moaned, toes curling at feeling so full.

“Good fucking girl,” Az groaned, circling her clit with his fingers. “You did so well, my love. Let’s get you to come, shall we?” Kicking up the vibrator, he gently tugged on the plug, not pulling it out but giving her a sensation of a thrust.

Her body shook, teetering on the edge of her orgasm. “Az, I’m so close. Please, please.” Tears rolled down her cheeks from the pleasure she felt. That deep pull in her backside, the vibrations. Everything inside her was pulled taut and ready to snap. So, when he twisted the plug, Elain shattered in a way she had never done before.

She screamed, her body quaking around everything. Wetness poured out from around the vibrator, coating her thighs. Unable to hold herself up anymore, she collapsed, face first, into her pillow, forcing Azriel to let go of the plug lest he accidentally pull it out of her.

Elain shook, and shook, and shook, the aftershocks of her orgasm running up and down her spine like ocean waves crashing along the shore.

His body sidled up behind her, tugging her limp form into his arms to whisper words of comfort into her hair.

“Turn it off,” she panted, the stimulation overwhelming enough that it was too much.

He moved quickly, releasing her to sit up and grab his phone.

Elain whimpered when the toy was switched off, her sensitive center aching. She was gathered back into his arms, her back pressed into his chest. His hard cock was digging into her backside, thankfully not adding any pressure to the plug.

She panted heavily, her entire body unnaturally boneless. It almost felt like she was hovering just outside of her physical form, not quite drifting back down from her high.

Azriel ran his scarred hands over her curves, soothing her to finally come back to him. he planted kisses on her shoulder, her neck, wherever he could reach with his mouth while keeping her secure in his embrace. “I’m here, El. Just breathe,” he murmured into her hair, making sure she could feel his presence.

It could’ve been minutes or hours before she finally collected enough pieces of herself to twist her neck and look at him over her shoulder.

A dopey smile was on his face at her blissed-out state. “Hello, love,” he whispered, gently kissing her lips.

“How long have we been laying here?” she asked, genuinely curious if she passed out.

He kissed her cheek. “About fifteen minutes.”

That had her blinking. She’d been out of it for fifteen minutes? Holy fuck.

His low chuckle had her eyes snapping back to his. “That was a rather intense orgasm for you. It’ll take a while for you to come down from it,” Az explained, reaching over her to cup the side of her cheek. His thumb swooped over her skin and she couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “How are you feeling?”

How did she feel? Elain wasn’t quite sure she could explain it, to be honest, but she tried anyways. “I feel—” she weighed her words, trying to find the best ones, “light, I suppose is a good way to put it. Like I drifted out of my body.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Of course, he would ask her that.

“It was overwhelming, but yes, I enjoyed it. A lot. I’ve never felt anything like that before.” Elain reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Just give me a couple more minutes and then we can continue.”

He squeezed her palm. “Baby, we don’t need to go any further tonight. You’ve already been through a lot and I don’t want you pushing it—”

“I’m not, Az,” she interrupted him. “I want to try it with you. I’ve got one more in me tonight, but that’s it. And I want to share it with you.”

It was obvious he wanted to protest, but she didn’t let him. “You’ve only come once tonight. I want to be the reason you do it again. Please, Az. Just try. I’ll tell you if I can’t handle it.”

Scarred fingers brushed her hair behind her ear. “Okay, let me go get a towel before we attempt to pull the plug out.” He dropped another kiss on her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” Sliding off the bed, Azriel padded to the bathroom, bringing back two bath towels.

She watched him place one at the end of the bed, and then unfolded the other, sliding it partially under her hips.

At her questioning look, he told her, “It might get a little messy and I’d rather not have to change the sheets tonight when we’re finished.”

“You’re not going to put me on my knees again?”

He resumed his position behind her. “No, I don’t think you have the energy for that right now. So, I’ll take you like this.” Propping her knee up, he traced the pads of his fingers over her hip, sliding until her could toy with her clit, lightly circling it. “Tell me when you’re ready. I’ll put the vibrator back on but will keep it low.”

Elain took a steadying breath. He was right, she didn’t have the energy to keep herself upright and she was incredibly thankful that Az could read her body better than she could. “I’m ready,” she said with conviction.

His thick arm slid under her waist, coming up to cup her breast, pinching her nipple just enough to send bolts of pleasure through her body.

She whimpered, pressing herself further into the cradle of his hips.

“Touch yourself for me,” he ordered, taking her hand when she brought it between her legs and showing her just how much pressure to apply. “Good girl. Just like that.” Releasing her, he reached back for his phone, kicking on the vibrator to a low setting.

Elain sucked in a breath, her body still slick with her arousal. When she felt the twisting on the plug, she couldn’t stop the low moan from escaping her throat.

“You’re doing so well, love. Just breathe for me. Nice and slow.”

Doing as he told her, she inhaled slowly, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth as he carefully pulled the plug from her ass. As soon as it was gone, Elain whined, her body clenching around the open air.

Azriel cursed into her shoulder, applying lube to his hard cock. “Your body is begging for me, love,” he groaned, nudging the head at her back hole. He grabbed her thigh, hauling her bent leg into the air and exposing her to the cool air. “Tell me when you need me to stop.”

She didn’t. Elain relaxed her body as best as she could, taking him inch by glorious inch as he rocked himself into her. She reached back, gripping his hair at the scalp and holding him into her neck while he sunk deeper and deeper until she felt her rear end pressed into the cradle of his hips.

“Fuck, El,” he moaned. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Elain couldn’t form words. She was delirious with pleasure, edged with pain, and everything in between. It was life-altering, how full she felt with his cock buried into her ass. Nothing could compare to how good it felt to have him like this.

When he started to move, the only sounds she could form were heavy breaths and low moans. Her mind was a kaleidoscope of color as he thrust into her, his fingers digging into the back of her knee, holding her open for him.

His strokes were measured and deep, sliding nearly all the way out, and pushing in until he hit a spot inside her that had her gasping every time.

She needed more. She needed it faster. She needed to come. “Harder, Az,” she cried out, her face burying into her shoulder.

He picked up the pace, snapping his hips into her, his mouth latching itself onto her the back of her shoulder.

Oh, gods. Oh, gods, it was so good. Her hand left her clit to clutch the edge of her pillow, but he quickly replaced it, releasing her breast to slide his fingers down between her legs, tightening his circles on her.

Elain sobbed in pleasure, climbing higher and higher. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. She couldn’t think straight. Her name…what was it? Oh, fuck, he felt so good. She had no idea it could feel like this. “So good,” she moaned pathetically. Her body had turned to putty beneath his careful hands and his hard cock. Another whimper passed between her parted lips as she climbed up to the top of her orgasms, teetering on the edge of something she’d never felt before.

Azriel brushed his mouth to the shell of her ear. “I’ve got you, baby. Let go for me.”

His gruff words were her undoing as Elain dove headfirst into the largest orgasm she’d ever experienced. She squeezed the hair between her fingers, hard enough that he grunted into her neck, but she didn’t let go—couldn’t let go as she fell, fell, fell, all while he fucked her ass harder and faster, prolonging her pleasure.

Her face was soaked with tears, body pulsing around his cock.

It only took another thrust or so before Azriel came with a shout, pushing himself as deep into her as he could go to spill inside of her, claiming her ass as his. Her body convulsed around him, taking everything he offered her and more.

The sweat between their bodies rolled over her skin, but she didn’t care. She was too far lost in her mind to worry about anything but how incredible she felt.

His hot breath panted over her shoulder as he gently laid her leg over her body, keeping her knee still bent. Grabbing his phone, he switched off the vibrator. Az gave her a while to catch her breath, before he murmured into her ear, “I’m going to pull everything out. Slow breaths, love.” The words rattled in her skull but didn’t fully register. She was too lost in the sensations.

Bringing her leg back up, he reached between her thighs and gently tugged out the toy. It didn’t stop the whimper from escaping her lips.

“Easy, baby. We’re almost finished,” he whispered, his voice velvety soft and covering her like a warm blanket.

Removing himself from her behind was another story. Her body clamped onto him, causing her to cry out from her sensitive hole.

He slowed his movements, stroking her hips soothingly. “Relax, El. I need you to relax.” His hands gently swept over her body, helping her body come down.

She did, inhaling deeply until he managed to pull himself free. Elain felt incredibly empty without him in her, missing it already, but was too exhausted for anything else tonight.

Azriel pulled himself from behind her, leaning over her body to kiss her cheek. “Don’t fall asleep. We need to clean up first. I’m going to start the bath.” Gripping her chin, he turned her head and dropped a kiss on her swollen lips, smiling down at her before padding into the bathroom.

Elain heard the water turn on and then him rummaging through the drawers, looking for something if she had to guess. Frankly, she didn’t care. She just wanted to sleep. But as soon as she started to drift off, Az was hauling her into his chest, her arms sliding around his neck.

The scalding water made her flinch when it touched her overly sensitive butt. She whimpered again, tightening her hold on him.

Az hushed her, murmuring sweet nothings into her ear as he slowly sank into the tub.

Fuck she was so sore, but the heat of the water felt so good too. She nuzzled into his neck before allowing him to twist her on his lap so she sat between his legs. Elain rested her head on his shoulder while he washed her down.

“You did so well tonight, love. I’m proud of you,” he told her, kissing her temple. “Are you feeling all right?”

Elain hummed in contentment. “Fine, just tired.”

His chuckle reverberated through her spine. “We’ll get to bed soon. I need to clean up the mess first and blow out all the candles. Do you think you can manage sitting in the tub a bit longer while I take care of that?”

“Mhmm.” She had no energy for anything else.

His soft laughter chased her in her dreams. Elain felt him climb out from behind her, carefully laying her back against the edge. “Don’t fall asleep, El.”

Good luck with that, she wanted to say but couldn’t. Her eyes had already drifted shut, but she could hear him opening the slider to the small balcony, letting in the fresh air, and then collecting all the items from their bed. She peaked an eye open, seeing him drop the toys in the sink to clean them.

Az didn’t bother to dress, standing nude at the counter as he took care of everything.

Gods, she loved him. He always did everything for her so she never had to worry about anything after sex.

Turning to face her, he grabbed a towel and knelt by the edge of the tub. “All right, love. Can you stand for me so I can dry you off?” He popped the drain, gripping her under the elbow to help her to her feet.

Elain swayed dangerously, making him lurch to hold her under her arm so she didn’t slip.

Az dried her off as best as he could, tossing the wet towel over to the sink before lifting her back into his arms and carrying her into bed, sliding them both under the covers he had pulled down.

She snuggled into his chest, lips pressing over his heart where her name was permanently tattooed. “I love you, Azriel.”

He held her close kissing the top of her head. “Sleep, my beautiful wife.”

But she was already gone, pulled by exhaustion into a dreamless slumber.

~~~~~

Azriel woke to sunlight streaming in from the white curtains across the balcony slider. The rays reflected in Elain’s golden-brown hair, strewn across her pillow. His beautiful, naked wife was curled up on her side, her back pressed into his chest. He was pretty sure his left arm was completely dead, but he didn’t care. Not when he woke up to her every goddamn morning of every day.

She was his wife.

Fuck, she was his wife.

He couldn’t believe he got to call her that forever now. Az didn’t know who he should be thanking for it, but he sent up his prayers to anybody who would listen. His arms were banded around her, one across her chest, the other slung over her waist. He tightened his hold on her, nuzzling deeper into her jasmine and honey scent. She always smelled so good.

The faint laughter of their family told him that they should probably get up soon—join them for breakfast before the jet flew everyone home. He and Elain were going to stay here for a few days before starting on their three-week honeymoon. They were flying to the Winter District first, staying in this dome-like cabin under the northern lights. From there, they would travel to the Spring District to go through its impressive rose gardens. Elain had always wanted to see them and he was obliged to give that to her.

Three whole weeks to themselves. Three weeks of traveling across the country, taking in different sights, sounds, and tastes.

Speaking of tastes, Azriel was greedy for the delicate taste of his wife. Breakfast before breakfast, he told himself, leaning in to kiss her bare shoulder. When she didn’t stir, he moved further into the junction of her neck. He swept his hands over her body, the black band on his fourth finger catching the morning rays.

Elain shifted then, murmuring something in her sleep. Still, she didn’t fully wake.

So, he moved his lips to her nape, kissing her there and nudging his nose into her.

She sighed softly, rolling back into his chest to look up at him. Elain flashed him a sleepy smile. “Good morning, husband.” Her voice was a whisper on the morning breeze.

Gods, when she called him that…he had never felt happiness like this. “Good morning, wife,” he told her, tone husky as he leaned down to claim her lips.

Elain responded to his ministrations eagerly, allowing him to roll on top of her. Her fingers wove into his mussed hair. “What time is it?” she asked as he kissed down her throat to the center of her chest.

Az looked up at her, her brown eyes already dark with lust. “Mid to late morning if I had to take a guess. Everyone else is up. I can hear them.” His tongue darted out to lap at her nipple, sucking the point deep into his mouth.

She sucked in a breath, arching into him and pushing her breast further between his teeth. “Az,” she moaned.

He slipped further down her body, settling between her thighs. His thumb stroked her slit, feeling the wetness that had gathered there already. “Hush, love. You have to be quiet or our family is going to hear you while I enjoy my breakfast.”

At the first swipe of his tongue, Elain clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes screwing shut.

Azriel chuckled against her, throwing her legs over his shoulders and setting a brutal pace. He licked her entrance, plunging his tongue in and out of her, then slid up her slit to suck her clit.

Elain grabbed a handful of his hair, moaning against her palm as she writhed against his mouth, fucking herself on his tongue.

He loved when she took her pleasure from him, rode him to her heart’s content like she was doing now.

With her grip on him, Elain undulated her hips into him, positioning his mouth where she wanted him—needed him. When she tugged him to her clit, he sucked it hard, careening her into her orgasm.

She came with a muffled cry, body going limp into the mattress.

Swiping his tongue up her slit one more time, Azriel kissed his way back up her body, bringing his mouth to hers and letting her taste herself.

Elain hummed, hooking an ankle over his hip and flipping them over. Straddling his waist, she kissed him again. “My turn.” Following a similar path he took, Elain made her way down to his aching cock, at attention and eagerly waiting for his wife’s delectable mouth.

“Fuck, Elain,” he groaned at the first lick.

She smirked at him from between his legs. “Quiet now. You don’t want our family to hear you while I eat my breakfast,” Elain teased, repeating his words back to him.

“Let them,” he growled, sucking in a breath when she swallowed him whole. Fuck, he brushed the back of her throat in her bobbing. Azriel grabbed her hair, holding it at the back of her head and off his thighs. He wanted to watch her suck him.

And suck him she did. Elain’s cheeks hallowed, taking him deep into her mouth and swirling her tongue around his shaft. The warmth was fucking heavenly. “Baby, I’m going to come,” he warned her, feeling the pull low in his belly.

It should be embarrassing how quickly he’d orgasm when she put her mouth on him, but frankly, he didn’t care about staving off when she fucked him with her mouth. It felt too good to stop. “El…”

Feeling him at the precipice of his orgasm, she took him as deep as her throat would allow, finishing him off with a final draw from her mouth.

Az came with a groan, spilling down her throat.

Elain pulled off him with an audible pop, swallowing everything he gave her.

Fuck he loved her. He said as much, grabbing her under his arms and hauling her up his body to kiss her roughly. “You have no idea how much I want to be buried inside of you right now, but we should probably get down there to see the family off. I have housekeepers coming today to clean this place.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “We should definitely put away the toys from last night before they get here.”

He laughed, alerting the others to their woken state because a few minutes later, Cash was banging on the front door, shouting, “Lovebirds, get up! I’ve got breakfast ready.”

“We’re coming!” he growled back, making Elain giggle into his chest. “Come on wife, let’s get dressed.”

Half an hour later, they were cleaned up, dressed, and making their way across the yard to the back patio where his brother had served up a ton of food. Bacon, eggs, potatoes, toast, fruit, and every breakfast drink you could imagine.

Azriel pulled out a chair at the table for Elain, pushing her in before taking a seat next to her. He grabbed platters of food, piling various things onto her plate before his own.

“Elain, you look incredibly well-rested,” Cassian said.

He froze in the middle of scooping fruit, eying his brother in suspicion.

El blinked at his brother. “I am Cash. Thank you.”

He knew it wasn’t a compliment based on the tone of voice. “Cash, if you ever want to have children again, I suggest you not voice whatever is sitting on the tip of your tongue,” he warned.

His wife glanced at him, brows furrowed. “What?”

But Cassian just threw an arm around Nesta’s shoulders, smirking. “I’m just saying, if she’s well-rested, then you must’ve not done your job last night well enough.”

Elain’s cheeks turned pink at the comment, but before he could throw the platter at his ass of a brother, she said, “Cash, perhaps you shouldn’t be so boastful. You should know that women tell each other everything.” Elain propped her cheek on her fist, staring his brother down. “And I mean, everything.”

He glanced at her, unsure of whatever it was she had on his brother, but he was curious. And the look that Cash shot her was not one of pride, but rather one of caution.

“You don’t know anything,” he dared.

His wife’s smile was nothing short of chilling.

“Oh, really? I wouldn’t be so quick, to assume.”

Cassian’s face went pale and he whipped his head to Nesta who was trying not to smile, patting her daughter’s back. “You told her?!” he accused.

Nesta buried her face into the side of Sutton’s head, trying to hold back her laugh.

Feyre raised a glass across the table. “I can back, Elain.” The younger Archeron winked at his wife, sipping from her mimosa.

Cash gaped at the three women. “I can’t believe you told them,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

Nesta patted his thigh. “It was years ago, babe. Who cares?”

“I care,” he muttered, looking put out.

Azriel reached under the table to grip Elain’s thigh, pouring her a mimosa from the pitcher on the table.

She slid her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. Picking up her glass, she clinked it on his, her smile brighter than pure sunshine.

He couldn’t stop himself from leaning down to kiss her, oblivious to the whoops and hollers from their family. Az ignored all of that and just let himself enjoy the moment with his gorgeous wife.

~~~

A few hours later, the newly married couple was lying on the beach, soaking up the sun’s warmth. He had dragged out two lounge chairs, sitting them side by side in the sand. Elain looked ridiculously good in her high-waisted bikini.

He had thoroughly ravished her body last night, her creamy skin plastered with his claiming marks. A few were covered by the swimsuit, but the ones on her neck, her ribcage, between the swells of her breasts remained visible.

Fuck she looked sexy covered in his bites.

And Elain didn’t seem to mind them showing, walking out of the house with the confidence of a queen.

Az had groaned at the sight of her. “I did a number on your body,” he’d told her.

She simply smirked, stating, “Perhaps you can add another one later.” Then she handed him the bottle of sunscreen and asked him to lather her back up.

He definitely did more than just her back, kneeling to cover her gorgeous legs, her toned arms, her ample chest, and her lithe waist. She laughed when his fingers slipped into her bikini top, asking him what he was doing. “Making sure my wife doesn’t get burned.”

Elain could only shake her head at his antics.

Laying out, she had tipped her floppy hat down, shading her face as she napped, the book she’d been reading discarded in the sand underneath her chair.

Noticing the pinkening on her stomach, Azriel got up, grabbing the bottle of sunscreen to rub more on her.

She jolted slightly at the contact.

“You’re getting pink,” he explained, spreading the white cream over her body. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Elain hummed, running her hand up his arm. Quick as a flash, she pulled his Ray Bans off his face.

He gave her an exasperated look. “What are you doing?” Az laughed.

“Here, you can wear mine,” she said, holding out her pink aviators to him and pushing his onto her nose.

Huffing, he grabbed hers from her outstretched hand and slid them onto his face. “How do I look?”

“Fabulous,” she said, grinning.

He grabbed her waist, hauling her over his shoulder and making her squeal.

“Azriel! What are you doing?” she laughed.

“Taking my wife swimming, that’s what.”

She smacked him on the butt. “Put me down!”

“No,” he said, popping her on the ass. “And believe me, baby, if you want to start the ass-smacking, I will win.”

Azriel should’ve known that her silence wasn’t her conceding, but that wicked little mind coming up with something truly devious. He hadn’t anticipated her grabbing his hips and biting him on the cheek.

A shout sounded from his throat, and he whipped her back over his shoulder to carry her bridal style. “You little minx. Did you just bite my ass?” He stared down at her in disbelief.

“I told you to put me down. It’s your fault,” she told him, smiling sweetly.

The heated look he shot her had her squirming in his arms. “Oh, I will get even for that later tonight.” His sensual promise had blood rushing to her cheeks. Despite his desire to turn around and carry her right up to the house and fuck her senseless, he continued into the cool water, setting her on her feet about thigh deep.

Elain bent at the waist, dragging her fingers in the waves. Giving him a feline smirk, she splashed him and took off running.

Stunned for a second, Azriel ran after his wife, following the sound of her joyful laugh. When he finally caught her, he kissed her like it was his last.

~~~~~

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th3-0bjectivist · 4 months

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Dear listener, I tried listening to six full hours of mainstream radio this week again. I tried, oh, sweet merciful Jesus, I tried. Lo, I have at this point all but confirmed that modern radio is a steaming pool of liquid dogshit. Given a second appraisal, it’s dogshit with a candy-coated hardshell for ease of ingestion! The disheartening repetition, the complete lack of cutting-edge creativity and genuine emotion, ten to twenty ass-ramming commercials in a row only to come back to the feckless frenzy of fail that comprises the vast, vast majority of modern music? It was all terribly grating, and somehow the music was even worse. As soon as I couldn’t take a millisecond more of the doldrums of modern radio, I went to YouTube and listened to two straight and comparatively blissful hours of immortal work by Antonio Vivaldi. So, get into the time machine again with me dear listener, and set course for the early 1700’s, a time when radio didn't exist! The social standards might not have been top-notch, but the powdered wigs were undeniably gorgeous, and the quality of the music… to die for!!!

As anyone who comes from a musical family has likely experienced, Vivaldi had the principles of composition fused to his DNA, and perhaps even down to the subatomic level with the help of his father. Having trained for priesthood in his early years, Vivaldi instead gradually gravitated toward a now celebrated career in music. Becoming an elite level violinist under the tutelage of his father Giovanni Battista, whom he regularly toured Venice and played duelling violins with, this legend of orchestra developed an immense capacity for transforming the basics of music into something so immensely interwoven and sublime that very few can or will ever dare so much as approach the legitimate majesty of his body of orchestral work. Known as something of an Italian religious dogmatist, his calling to the church and desire to be a priest secured him the nickname ‘Il Prete Rosso’ (The Red Priest) because he was a ginger, or in modern politically correct parlance… a natural red head. During a three-decade long gig serving as Master of Violin at an historical Vincentian orphanage, Ospedale della Pietà, Vivaldi managed to gather inspiration and organize his most emotionally powerful compositions. I could probably add a lot of unnecessary details here, but his greatest and most everlasting works are part of his ‘The Four Seasons’, a set of four violin concertos that are meant to express nearly the precise sensations and emotions of summer, winter, autumn, and spring. If you smash play on the above track you will be treated to Presto (from the Summer section), a song you probably know or have heard before. Presto means ‘quickly’ in Italian and is performed at one of the quickest speeds a human can possibly play music (second only to prestissimo speed, I think). Vivaldi also had a strange disease throughout all his life which many historians suspect might have been severe asthma. And with his penchant for taking numerous ‘leaves of absences’ to tour the world and develop an international reputation, this clearly mega-talented rockstar of yester-century ended up spending all the money he earned during his lifetime. Sadly, after approaching the end of his life and skidding through a decade’s worth of career decline, all accounts show that he died completely broke, having spent what little money he had left on multiple assistants that circumnavigated him through his now dire and at the time completely untreatable health issues. Vivaldi isn’t my personal favorite composer of all-time, I’ll leave that distinction to Bach (who himself was inspired by Vivaldi). But his works live on to this very day because he accomplished exactly what he strove to do; embody the excellence of execution in his craft to produce works that bring us together as human beings and sometimes inspire a rare spark of imagination to propel us to create the very best work we can possibly bring forth.

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Right above this paragraph is a live variation of The Four Seasons, a classic musical work of art and transcendent beauty that I cannot recommend highly enough. Vivaldi sure did one thing that modern, corporately funded, concentrated and even desperate bands just can’t… and that is actually innovate. He had immense natural technical skills, had them brought to bloom by his family and his own efforts, and he ended up creating over 500 instrumental and choral works, plus about 40 operas. Have *you* created 500 instrumental and choral works and 40 operas!? Didn’t think so. So, get to work on that! And join me next time for some jaunty Brahms. Image source: https://www.craiyon.com/image/dPwZA5VRRTawSH1T9Sslcw

#vivaldi #antonio vivaldi #music on tumblr #classical music #the four seasons #presto #music from the 1700's #audio video #music video #audio on tumblr #classical composer #composer #baroque #legend #violinist #orchestra #Italian composer

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bonefall · 9 months

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So i translated the first generation of all of my OCs (Over 150 cats--don't worry I'm hyperfixating on the next generation now) and I have a few gems that I thought you'd like

1. The OG, Dogstar. His name was originally Otterflame (Morfaffyn--translates as is), but for an honor title, he receives the name Dogcaller (Bayaoshaba--Large-dog-prayer)

2. My girl, Stormystar. Her warrior name was Stormyskies (Urrnyaawrl--Stormy gray-skies) but as a dishonor title after her death, she's named Bahahaoshai (Violent-storm-star)

3. Ambercall, who I named after like, actual amber, not the color amber, so her name translates as Kemree'rrihi'shainana (Ginger-pearl-hymn), which I shortened to Kemrrihiana

4. This one I'm really proud of. A medicine cat, named Mothcloud (Raoffharryr--Prominent moth-fast cloud), nearly died, but was saved, seemingly by starclan's will. Her mentor renamed her to Mothgash (Hawofygrraga--Herald moth-mauled), due to the spiritual nature of her 'revival'

5. I do need a bit of help with this one, if at all possible. I have a few cats with the suffix -run/-runner, but I couldn't find a word for it, so I named a cat (Ferretrun) Haakekegrryrrprriprra (Ferret-is-fast) and that's a bit of a mouthful

6. This one is funny. Icenose, named for the white snip on his nose, is Chikichoop, nicknamed Chichoo which is funny because it sounds like a sneeze

7. I have a cat named Dovechirp and her clanmew name makes me really happy. Its Hoowoohoo'oowamew (Wood pigeon-lullaby) its so fun to say

8. Lastly, there's an elder. By all accounts, he should be dead. No one knows how he is still alive. His name is Mouseface (Naibauss--Living mouse-face), but all his family jokingly calls him Woobauss (Dead mouse-face)

Excellent job!! GOLD star to Dovechirp, Woodpigeon-Lullaby is an MVP here

Ambercall

I'd keep your translation, because I'd imagine your cats are set up in a place where they're able to encounter amber. It's actually very common in some places, it melts out of icebergs and washes up on shorelines. The UK's "amber coast" is named for that reason!

So Ginger-pearl is perfect. It makes sense they'd start using a word to describe it like that.

But in Base Clanmew, the word they're using for "Amber" (like Amberleaf) is closer in meaning to "Resin." That word is Aogi. Resin is what eventually becomes amber, after millions of years of a sort of fossilization process. Clan cats collect this right out of trees.

It can be hardened, but has a tacky, taffy-like texture when it's fresh.

Ferretrun

When it comes to suffixes like 'runner,' under the Clanmew hood, the translations are almost always more abstract than it seems.

Nyoopaba is the one usually being used in WindClan. It roughly means "to gallop," but it's actually the specific technique that moor-runners are taught to use to run so fast. You curl your spine entirely like a rabbit to get as much distance as possible out of each bound.

So Haakekenyoopa, Ferret Will-Run, makes an easy translation. Hanyoo for short.

But for a translation less about 'skill' and more about raw speed, I'd go with 'sprint,' Fwioonee. Haakekefwioon, Ferret Sprinting, Haafwi for short.

#clanmew

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silverloreleysfanfics · 1 year

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Real Names in “Descendants“

Here’s a rant + solution about the characters’ names in Descendants.

Who in his right mind could accept Lonnie’s name is just that? Mal makes sense for the explanation we were given, but Evie? Even assuming Ally is short for something, isn’t that’s a weird name? The books have stuff like Herkie, Lil’ Shang, Pin, Tiger Peony, Ginny Gothel and I don’t know how many more and while I get it’s about making them recognizeable as the children of certain characters, I do get it, I still think they’re bad.

So I decided to compile a list of presumable actual names of the Descendants kids, VK and AK alike that anyone could feel free to use in fics.

Two little notes before anything else:

the -son/-dottir patronimics I see sometimes in fics are North European and should be used only in the right context, avoided otherwise. In Ancient Greek the correct suffix is -ides (gender neutral), so Mal wouldn’t be Hadesdottir but Hadeides; similarly, Uma would be Ursulaides, and Ursula Poseidonides and so forth. Despite that, I assume Auradon would want to conform to the habit of fixed family names that is normal in modern Europe, so they’d make everyone adopt one, like Chad Charming, or use the place of origin, like Jordan of Agrabah.

The explanation I have in-universe for some names is that there's an obsession in Auradon with precising who their famous parents/relatives/family friends could be and many kids end up with nicknames tied to that. Either this or because names have power when it comes to magic, so real names are kept secret and known only by the most trusted people, but that wouldn’t get along with how magic works in the movies, nor with the fact Ben and Mal shared their middle names like it was no big deal (but then again, Ben could have a secret third name and Mal didn’t specify her first name is short for Maleficent). The first explanation is easier.

I’ve been working on this list for quite some time. As such, if you use this as reference it’s fine, but I’d like to be told at least, even in a note to this post and given credit if you pick one of my ideas that aren’t mainstream in the fandom.

Also, I may add to/modify this post later on, but without taking into account anything made after Descendants 3.

That said, VKs first:

Mal: we’ve been said Mal is just short for Maleficent and the daughter isn’t allowed to use the full name because she “didn’t deserve it”. Abusive and terrible, yet it fits. But I don’t think Hades would agree and in myths there is a Melinoe who is an Hades’ daughter, so Mal’s full real name could be Maleficent Bertha Melinoe Hadeides or just Melinoe Bertha Hadeides.

Jay: I saw Jayden around and, nope, it doesn’t work for me. Either Jayanth or Jayad (both mean “victorious one”) sound a lot better and more fitting for the general area Aladdin is set in. But, really, this page has tons of names starting with Jay, pick one from there. (also, for a proper surname you should check Arabic onomastic, which is complicated, so just use “of the Isle” or “of Agrabah”, unless you know the subject well. I don’t think Auradonians would bother to learn anyway)

Evie: oh, dear, my poor girl, what an atrocity. It could be short for anything like Evelyn, Evangeline (but the Evil Queen would never choose such a meek name, plus it’s tied to Tiana’s story), Evanna, Evalina, Evisse, all can work, but the one I prefer is Everhilde or Everild, which would call back to the Evil Queen’s real name, Grimhilde. On this note, I suppose Genevieve could work too with the “parent-children with same intials” trend.

Carlos: I already said I find weird he has a Spanish name when Cruella is British, and unless there are some Spanish roots somewhere in the de Vil lineage, his name should have been Charles. But recently I headcanoned his father could be Bruno Madrigal, so the Spanish name could stay (in the books it’s stated his middle name is Oscar, which @dragoneyes618 reminded me was also Bruno’s first-draft name), so, Carlos Oscar de Vil-Madrigal.

Uma: it’s a Hebrew or Hindi name and a weird fit for the granddaughter of Poseidon (yes, I am one of those who agrees Ursula is one of Poseidon’s children and thinks a name meaning “little she-bear” is a tad weird for a sea being). But, after all, Ariel is a Hebrew name too, so Uma fits the Little Mermaid lore and all is well.

The three Hook siblings (Harriet, Harry and Calista Jane) have the most normal and reasonable names of the whole franchise and I won’t dare to change them. Perhaps I’d argue Harriet and Harry are fem/male variants of the same name, but, really, there is worse in the franchise (and I guess, when she made up Harriet, Melissa de la Cruz had no idea they’d later create Harry for the next movies).

Gil: his real name could be Gillaume (variant of Guillaume) or Gilbert. Personally, I prefer the latter (like Gilbert Motier de La Fayette, you know, lol). His brothers’ names, unfortunately, fit with Gaston’s narcissism, so they can stay. The canon surname is LeGume, although I’m not sure where it comes from exactly as it’s never mentioned in either movie or live action as far as I remember.

Freddie: I think Frederique Facilier sounds great and she probably hates it. I read that in a fic but I don’t remember whose, maybe @ginnyrules27 or @hannahhook7744 or @dragoneyes618, feel free to correct me if it’s none of theirs.

Celia: it’s a name in its own good, used in both French and Spanish (fitting for New Orleans’ culture), but if we want, we can consider it short for Cecilia.

Ginny Gothel: assuming Gothel (like Yzma) was able to procreate and Ginny isn’t actually Cassandra’s daughter (I haven’t seen the series though so I don’t know much about her), Ginny is still an abbreviation, usually of Ginevra/Guinevere. I can’t fathom why Gothel’s name became a surname though, I’m at loss here, unless we are supposed to read it as Ginevra Gotheldottir (Rapunzel is a germanic tale, so this kind of patronimic fits), shortened Ginny Gothel.

Dizzy: I wrecked my brain on this. Drusilla or Desdemona. That’s it, that’s the top I could come up with. Drusilla Tremaine-Westergard, in my universe, to be precise.

The only other Tremaine cousin we have a canon name for is Anthony and I think it’s a perfectly fine name. Antoine if we set the story in pseudo-France.

Hadie: Hades had few children in the myths and Zagreus was the one I liked the most, that’s my reasoning. In myths, Zagreus is Persephone’s son but here it could be anyone’s, he’d still keep the Greek patronimic, so Zagreus Hadeides.

Squeaky and Squirmy Smee: those are 100% nicknames, it can’t be otherwise. In fact, in piracy, it’s pretty normal to have nicknames and aliases that are known more than regular names, like Calico Jack, Blackbeard, Big Murph and so on. The twins likely have normal names like Sullivan and Sean or something like that. In fact, their big brother is Sammy, short for Samuel, I assume, so it pretty much supports it.

Mad Maddy: while “mad“ is a mockery/title, Maddy should be short for Magda or Magdalene, but it’s used on its own too, so it’s your pick.

LeFou Deux: stupid name, like so stupid it can’t be real. Let’s pick a normal french name, like Denis LeFou, with the mockery he acts like father, they call him Le Fou Deux aka “twice as stupid”. Kids can be cruel.

Claudine Frollo: unfortunately, it’s an actual French name, but a religious zealot would maybe give her a double name, like Marie-Claudine.

Zevon and Yzla: I don’t know what to say here, I really don’t. Yzla sounds bad, that’s all I can say (but I admit Zevon has a nice ring). I accept suggestions.

AKs:

Lil’ Shang: first thing first, in China (and other Eastern countries) surnames come before names. So Li=surname Shang=name. Cleared that up, this name makes sense only as a nickname (which I hate). If we want it to start with S and an assonance with his father’s, we could pick Sheng (victory) or Shuang (clear and bright).

Lonnie: Lanying, which, mispronunciated, became Lonnie, it would make sense if said by kids first. (Fun fact: irl Lin Lanying was the name of a scientist, there’s also a Guo Lanying who is a soprano, both great women).

Herkie: oh, don’t make me start with this. This is one of the atrocious names that are clearly rip-offs of the parent’s names and I hate that. Hercules had lots and lots of children in the myths, from Megara in particular he had four: Therimachus, Creontiades, Ophitus and Deicoon. Pick whatever you prefer, I am partial to Therimachus, too difficult for Auradonians to enunciate, they started to call him Herkie as a nickname that stuck.

Tiger Peony: I’m certain I’m not the first who thinks a name like this is, like, the epitome of disrespectful. For the same reason, I admit I know nothing of the subject and ask if someone could tell what an appropriate name for her could be.

Ally: Allison Liddel (original Alice’s surname) or Kingsley (live action surname). Or another surname if she took her father’s (I am partial to the Tim Burton movies and ship Alice and the Hatter, so Allison Hightopp, but that’s just me).

Jordan: Joodah (or Joudah) meaning “generous“ or “of high qualities“ (as far as I could find, please feel free to correct me).

Artie: don’t ask me where I took it from, but in my head his full name is Arnault Pendragon (and he isn’t Guinevere’s son as Disney’s Arthur married another woman under the advice of Merlin, but this is all my headcanon).

Pin: Pinocchio’s son. Now, in Italy it is traditional to name children after parents or grandparents (I have one uncle and 5 cousins all named after my maternal grandfather and other 4 cousins after my grandmother, to say nothing of the ones who have them as middle names), so it wouldn’t be weird BUT! we don’t have names without final vowels, especially first names, in Italian, so he’d be called Pino. Which is also short for Giuseppe (Giuseppino) and I much prefer that (if they wanted to use Geppetto’s name it would have made sense too, and that he would have been nicknamed Geppettino > Tino).

Now, for the dwarves’ sons I picked German names with the same initials:

“Doc II” Dominic;

“Hap” Harold;

“Cheerful” Klemens;

“Gesundheit”/“Gus” Gustav;

“Bash” Bastian;

“Shy” Silas;

“Crabby” Conrad;

“Sleepy jr” Simon;

“Snoozy” Samuel.

Doug and Gordon are normal names and can stay.

Ruby and Anxelin Fitzherbert: I’m not even sure from where we got those names from for Rapunzel’s daughters, I seem to recall Ruby mentioned in Wicked World, maybe? Anyway, I don’t like either name. Anxelin is the name of a wine, that’s a very strange choice, and Ruby, uh, is too generic, I guess? There are so many german names to pick from, if we want to follow the pattern of same initial as the parents! Renate, Rayna, Reinheld, Richel, Roslin, Rowena... then Engelbertha, Eda, Erika, Evonne, Edith,... Just research a bit. If we really want to keep the original ones, Anxelin could be a deformation of something like Annegret or Analise, and Ruby could stand for Ruperta or Ruomhildi, although I prefer to call them Annika (same initials as Queen Arianna, Rapunzel’s real mother) and Roslin.

Opal: daughter of Mama Odie (what is it with those super-old women having teenage kids?!) can be Opal of the Bayou, I suppose. It has a nice ring, actually, although I don’t know what tie opal stones may have with voodoo.

Bobby Hood: usually, Bobby is short for Robert, which fits the area and the pattern. Robin is, at times, short for Robert, but I don’t think it’s the case here. The surname Locksley was discarded by Robin, provided it existed in the Disneyverse, but it’s worth remembering it.

This post will possibly be corrected expanded in the future and I appreciate further discussion, as long as all parties are respectful and thoughtful.

#disney descendants #descendants #here I fixed the matter of the names #it irked me to no end #reminder that if you use this in fics I want to see it!#any of it!#long post

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anitalianfrie · 3 months

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Right so what's up with MotoGP omegaverse?

so, this should be the moment where i admit i don't even remember half of the guys competing because i started after the end of the season and i laser-focused on the marquez brothers and the italian guys. Anyway, I'm not going to give you a list of who i think is what, because we're here to talk about DYNAMICS. thoughts under the cut because i got a bit ranty.

So, motorsports are an hypermasculine enviroment, every single one of them. Think how bad it gets when you are riding death machines at 200kph that will try to kill you at every turn. You have to be strong you have to be aggresive you have to be a real man you have to fuck a lot (i'm not sure how this translates to being able to ride motorcycles but i also never claimed to be in the head of somebody really stupid) = you have to be an alpha. So of course for the longest time only alphas where considered strong enough to ride properly. Betas? too weak, not aggressive enough. Omegas? they can hold the umbrellas, maximum. They are too submissive, they will never overtake an alpha, they will lay down and show their neck to be mated right then and there when the alphas should do their real manly racingTM.

This of course doesn't take in account the fact that kids will start riding minibikes waaayyy before showing their second gender (in their puberty) so. Beta riders are most definitely there, and once stereotypes around omegas start to subside in the family sphere (thank you omega activists) and parents allow their omega kids to continue racing, omegas are there too.

Which doesn't mean that betas and omegas (in particular the latter) aren't treated horribly and always underestimated. A couple of omega champions (Jorge and Marc) change a bit the perspective, but the rosquez divorce sets everything back to 50 years. (No, i'm joking. Mostly. Just know that the rosquez divorce here is bad. really bad) Still, in the paddock there isn't much equality: alphas are almost always half of the grid, if not more, followed in numbers by betas and then omegas.

Are relationships between riders incentivized? OF COURSE NAWT, because those evil cunning omegas will try to make the big, strong alphas loose their focus from the championships with their evil ways. And betas are not even considered, because a true alpha rider will only fuck a traditional, stay-at-home omega that will raise their pups while he throws himself down the circuits at 200kph on the other side of the world. (you know, like true alphas do). And of course omegas are expected to not get pregnant because they're an investiment for the team and the least they can do is not getting a pup bred inside them and ruin the championship for everyone. As you might imagine, omegas get offered waayyy less contracts than alphas and betas.

I said before that i wasn't going to say who's what because i've put down like, maybe five riders, but i changed my mind, so.

Jorge is an omega, as per @whatwepostintheshadows amazing post, as is Marc. Vale is an alpha, more on those two here. Dani i'm not really sure, because I can see him both as an alpha and a beta, always criticized for not being alpha enough/not agressive/strong enough. Alex is probably a beta. Enea is probably an alpha (is this purely based on his nickname being "la bestia"? maybe. I'm open to discussions about him). And for the academy, I'm sure of pecco being a beta, but i'm not sure about anybody else.

Suggestions/ideas in the askbox and/or dms about this are highly appreciated please do come to talk to me about this :)))

#sorry this turned into a rant of epic proportions #omegaverse motogp #c'è posta per me

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rosetintedgunman · 8 months

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DOSSIER CHEAT SHEET

LEGAL NAME: Colonel William Jackson Barnum

NICKNAME[S]: Colonel, Will, Young Barnum, Private, Balai (‘Broom’ in French)

DATE OF BIRTH: June 14th, 1897 (implied to be 28 by time of W.KM)

GENDER: Male

PLACE OF BIRTH: Unspecified. Implied to be in the state of California.

CURRENTLY LIVING: A small cottage near the edge of the city, but in walking distance (by William's standards) to both the Manor and the barracks.

SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English (also REALLY bad French. Do not believe him if he says he's fluent)

EDUCATION: Academically, he dropped out of high school at 16 and apprenticed as a handyman under his father. He is a fully trained soldier.

HAIR COLOR: Dark brown/black

EYE COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: 6 foot 3 inches

WEIGHT: I have no idea. I've never looked this up, and I'm not going to look into it now. I'm going to guess somewhere between 190 - 200 lbs.

FAMILY INFORMATION

Reminder: This is not taking into account the scenario of Mark and William being genetically related that blogs may have for their own lore. This will all be disregarded in those cases and I will adjust if needed.

SIBLING[S]: He was the youngest of six. He has three older brothers - Johnny, Ernest, and Harvey - and two older sisters - Lizzie and Annie.

PARENT[S]: Frank and Minnie Barnum

RELATIVE[S]: Due to the large age gap between him (twelve years between him and the second youngest), all his older siblings had married by the time he was in high school. Because of this, he was in the strange position of having at least nine nieces or nephews older than him, and three younger than him. And that's not mentioning his aunts and uncles. There's too many to list, but I should remind you that he was named after his uncle due to the miracle of surviving the odds at birth. Also, if one of his parents took a shine to you, you became an honorary Barnum.

CHILDREN: None. While he did have a reputation, back in the day, he was always careful. He could barely look after himself, let alone a whole other person.

PET[S]: None, for the same reason as above.

RELATIONSHIP INFORMATION

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual, though depending on the setting it's not something he actively explores.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single in pretty much every setting. My boy continues my notorious bad luck with ships. But he's also a homewrecker so he doesn't deserve happiness :D

tagged by: @pinkxtrauma

tagging: I'll be honest, I'm not in the headspace to start trying to think of tagging people. So go for it, if you want.

#(why yes I'm using this solely to remind people of the seventeen page bio I wrote for just Will)#(it's in the title :3c )#colonelheadcanon #(I might do this with other muses eventually; but not yet. Wilf will obviously be exempt)#(and in general... I need to write Will more.)#(and true to form; I jinxed myself and now have niece for rest of the evening)

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purplesurveys · 25 days

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1836

What’s the earliest you’ve ever had to wake up for work? 12:30 AM is my newest record – had a scheduled hike all the way in Batangas two weeks ago and we were set to leave by 2 AM.

Do you use reusable shopping bags to reduce waste? Yes, but not always. I'll sometimes shop unplanned so I won't always have a bag with me.

How many times have you moved? Once in infancy, two times in childhood. The next time I'll do so it'll be for my own place which is kind of crazy to think about!

Where were you going the last time you were a passenger in a car? Church, this morning. We also stopped by Wilcon so my mom could pick up something for the bathroom.

Do you know anyone who has changed their first name? Apparently it's really common for people my age to 'rebrand' and go with different nicknames in school and work, so yes.

Are you nerdy? If so, in what ways? I like professional wrestling, which I would consider nerdy/geeky.

Which one of your senses would you be the most devastated to lose? Sight and touch.

Have you ever dated someone who posted a ton of selfies on social media? I wouldn't say they did.

Do you know anyone who has been on life support, and survived? Not sure. I don't think so.

What scent is the nearest candle? Vanilla.

Have you ever been to Michigan? Nope.

Do your parents have a strong relationship together? Yes. They're toxic at times in ways I don't feel like expounding on, because it makes me sad; but for the most part their marriage has been a very happy one.

When was the last time you attended a religious service of any sort? Sunday mass this morning. It also happens to be Palm Sunday so people were waving those leaves around.

Do you ever feel like you’re sharing too much about yourself online? The fact is that I do lol, but it's only on this part of 'online.' I do keep some kind of wall on my other accounts and focus on my interests.

How many windows are in the room you’re in? None, I'm at the rooftop.

Are you on good or bad terms with your most recent ex? It ended on such emotionless terms that I'd say as far as terms...there aren't any. The whole thing just feels nonexistent, and I have found my peace with viewing the relationship as if it never happened. It's also healthier for me that way.

What was the last necklace you wore? It's silver, with a silver and purple heart charm.

What were you doing 3 hours ago? I was having dinner with my family.

Have you ever read any of Charles Darwin’s works? I don't think I have.

What was the first thing you did after getting out of bed today? I woke up to the sound of the dogs play-wrestling so I went down to see what was up and to play with them for a little bit.

When was the last time you read a newspaper? Safe to assume >4 years ago.

If there was such a thing as a mental health first aid kit, what would you want to be in it? My favorite chips, a reed diffuser, a picture frame of BTS, and a BTS concert DVD hehe.

Is there anyone who always seems to misunderstand everything you say? There used to be.

Do you think there are more dimensions than what we’re able to perceive? Yes.

What is currently on your bathroom counter? We have a cabinet instead of a counter, and in it we have...everything that's supposed to be in the bathroom, basically. The toothbrushes and toothpaste, deodorant, napkins, and a few first aid items.

What was the last carbonated drink you had? Continued from last night. Beer.

Does anyone in your family have schizophrenia? Nope.

What light in your house was the last to have a bulb burn out? One of the bulbs we have in the living room.

What was your favorite book you ever read for a school assignment? Without Seeing the Dawn.

Do you know anyone who’s always on their phone when you’re trying to talk to them? No.

Have you ever been fired? If so, did you get unemployment benefits? I've never been fired.

Do any of your neighbors have loud children? A loud kid who just so happens to be a louder shrieker/crier, yes.

Have you ever been in an abandoned house? I've looked at one from the outside, but didn't go in.

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diavolodigitale · 9 months

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A Match Made on hAIvemind.com

It is what it is and I have no regrets. Merthur is for life. Also, yes, I can't be bothered to make a nice cover, sue me.

Arthur likes this type of communication. It’s like throwing a ball back and forth, not worrying that you might hurt the person at the other end because it will just bounce back at you. The boundaries are understood by both without the need to discuss them, and he appreciates that nobody’s chastising him for being temperamental or not polite enough. It’s not like it ever was a problem with his close friends, but being himself rarely works out well with new acquaintances. Usually it’s less of a game of ball and more of a minefield: watch your tone, watch your intonation, watch your body language, watch your vocabulary, oh, look, now you’ve done it. Not having to worry about all of this is weirdly liberating.

Genres: Chatfic, Chatting & Messaging, Humour, First Meeting, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

Pairing: Arthur/Merlin

Characters: Arthur, Merlin, Gwaine

Rating: G for only Good things happen

Size: 7000 words

Arthur is not a big fan of technologies. He is an occasional user of consoles when he’s in the mood to shoot some 15-year-olds (not literally) or race his pals in Mario Cart, but that’s usually as far as it goes. Sometimes he uses his laptop to check his social media accounts, but it’s often not something that cannot be done on his smartphone, so if he has a choice, he usually resorts to the latter, leaving his laptop perpetually off and covered in dust.

But today is different. Gwaine sent him a link to what he described as a pretty entertaining chatbot and suggested that he should try it. As a rule, Arthur would not be amused by something like this. After all, he has real friends to talk to. But what’s the harm in trying, especially if it’s supposed to be surprisingly clever?

When Arthur comes back from work one evening, he boots his laptop and clicks on the link that was sent to him a couple of days earlier. He is greeted by a pretty simplistic interface that corresponds to the website’s limited functionality. There’s a bot’s name written at the top of the page, a blank box for him to input his nickname, and a ‘start chatting’ button below.

After a few minutes of mulling over the nickname he can use, Arthur chooses ‘RedDragon’, which, quite possibly, some of his friends would find funny, but he was never one to just use his real name anywhere. One never knows who can use it later, especially if one has no idea how any of it works, really. Arthur was also never one to get creative with his aliases, so best he can do is an amalgamation of his own family name.

After he clicks ‘start chatting’, a message from the bot pops up. There’s a box for him to type in his answer below.

Wizard: Hello! What is your name?

RedDragon: Hi, my name’s RedDragon. And you?

Wizard: My name is Wizard! It’s nice to meet you, RedDragon.

Ha, child’s play, thinks Arthur. In all honesty, he thinks the bot might just be a regular thing that only reacts correctly to the most basic of questions and statements, but he is still willing to give it the benefit of the doubt, putting trust in his friend’s judgement about it.

RedDragon: Why is your name Wizard?

Wizard: Why, because I can do magic, of course!

RedDragon: Like what?

Wizard: What do you mean by that?

Of course, it’s a bot, it cannot understand contextual questions, thinks Arthur and shakes his head. He decides how to paraphrase the question and tries to think what he can ask the bot that might entertain him. He went into it without much expectations or ideas, so now he struggles to find an interesting topic.

RedDragon: What kind of magic can you do?

Wizard: I can discuss any topic that you are interested in! I have vast knowledge in the spheres of music, sport, recent news, video games, movies, books, and many others.

RedDragon: I can discuss all those with my friends. Can you do something else?

Wizard: I can help you with your math or physics assignments if you have any. I can also help you translate short sentences from different languages. Besides, I also know your full name and home address and can put it on display for all users to see!

Arthur’s eyes widen in shock. The bot cannot know that, can it? Arthur suddenly greatly regrets not attending any of the computer related courses he was offered at college. He really has no idea what these things are capable of, so if somebody on the internet told him that they knew where his great grandpa buried his treasures in the garden, he would probably believe them.

RedDragon: Wait, do you really have access to my personal data?

Wizard: [Redacted]

Wizard: I am joking. Do not be afraid, I have no way of accessing this type of information unless you decide to share it yourself.

RedDragon: This is really an awful joke.

Wizard: Yes, I’ve been told so.

Wizard: Can I ask you a question, RedDragon?

RedDragon: Yes, you can. But I can’t promise I will answer.

Wizard: Is your name a reference?

Arthur furrows his brow and starts thinking. Is it? He sort of came up with a nickname on the spot, so he can’t say that he knows what it might reference, but can he really give in and end up being more stupid than a bot?

RedDragon: Yes.

Wizard: And what is it a reference to?

Damn it. Arthur opens another tab, googles ‘red dragon’ and is immediately greeted by a bunch of articles and pictures relating to a movie under the same name. He quickly schemes through a Wikipedia entry.

RedDragon: To a movie Red Dragon, obviously.

Wizard: It is a shame. I hoped you were referencing a novel.

RedDragon: Why does that upset you? Is the novel better than the movie?

Wizard: Please, write one question at a time.

RedDragon: Why are you upset that I was talking about a movie and not a book?

Wizard: I always prefer books to movies. When you are reading a book, you can imagine all the characters and places however you want. If you are watching a movie, however, the creators have already decided what everything looks like for you, so you can only choose whether you agree with this depiction or not. Also, I am a bot, so I can’t exactly watch movies ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

RedDragon: You have very strong opinions for a bot.

Wizard: And you have good taste for a human.

Arthur smiles to himself. This is surprisingly entertaining for a conversation with an AI which he didn’t expect. It almost feels like a breath of fresh air, starting a completely new conversation with somebody (or something) without any baggage of prior communication, and apparently he hasn’t done that in quite a long time if he’s enjoying it this much now.

RedDragon: Do you have any interesting books that you can recommend?

Wizard: You have exceeded your limit for today. You will have to come back tomorrow if you want me to recommend you something else.

RedDragon: Do you want to end the conversation?

Wizard: Not unless you want to. I am available whenever you want to have a chat.

RedDragon: Wait, you said you can’t give me another recommendation. So, what was the first thing you recommended to me?

Wizard: Red Dragon ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ ). You obviously haven’t read it.

Bastard, thinks Arthur, but finds it extremely amusing. The person that created this bot must be very interesting themselves, but also most likely quite obnoxious to deal with.

Oh, right. There is a person behind this. Somebody created this bot, and Arthur enjoying a chat with it too much might seem a bit weird when he is surrounded by living breathing people who should be more interesting to him than an AI.

This thought cools him down a bit, and he decides that that’s enough chatting. It was entertaining, sure, but there’s no point in getting too caught up in something as pointless as this. He’s not actually developing any relationship with anybody, he’s just wasting his time.

RedDragon: It turns out that I actually need to go. It’s been nice chatting with you.

Wizard: I liked our conversation too. I would like to know more about you, so I hope you will come back tomorrow. See you soon, RedDragon!

RedDragon: Yeah, bye.

Arthur spends the next work day in contemplations in regard to whether he should try and have another conversation with a bot once he’s home or just drop it. The conclusion that he arrives to is that this is an obvious waste of time and that he should do something else.

When he comes back home, however, he is unable to resist the temptation, so he opens his laptop and goes to the familiar website.

Unfortunately, instead of what he expected to see there’s an error message that says ‘sorry, work in progress’, so he leaves to do other, definitely more productive and useful things, trying to convince himself that it’s for the best.

The day after that he thinks that the only way to finally stop returning to this stupid idea is to try and do it again. If the bot is still inactive – fine, perfect even, no need to worry about it at all. If it works, he’ll just ask it about another book recommendation or something as this is totally what he is interested in doing. Even though he hasn’t even started Red Dragon yet.

This time, Arthur’s arguably luckier because the website seems to be working again. Much to his surprise, the plain white background that he remembers from his previous visit has changed and is now decorated with simplistic red dragons situated symmetrically on both sides of his screen. Arthur thinks that it’s kind of weird, types in the same nickname as the previous time, and enters a conversation.

Wizard: Hi, RedDragon! How are you doing?

RedDragon: Hey, I’m fine. How about you?

Wizard: Better now that you are here! I waited for you to come the day before, but it seems like you were busy ◔̯◔.

RedDragon: Well, it’s not my fault you were unavailable when I dropped by.

Wizard: So, you did come, that’s nice to know. Sorry about that, I was preparing a little surprise for you. I hope you’ve noticed.

Arthur raises an eyebrow. So, the dragons were not a coincidence after all. For some reason he thinks something like this wouldn’t take an AI a long time to arrange, considering how this particular chatbot didn’t seem to be very well-known, so it must have more resources at its disposal. But, oh, well, what did he even know about it.

RedDragon: How do you know it’s the same person who’s chatting with you now?

RedDragon: Now that I think about it, it’s probably because of my nickname.

Wizard: No, it’s because of your IP address, silly.

Wizard: I know that RedDragon from two days ago used the same computer as you, so I assume you are them.

RedDragon: Should I be concerned about the fact that you know my IP address?

Wizard: Probably not. I don’t use it for anything else other than recognizing that you are the same person with the purpose of referring to our previous conversations whenever you come back.

RedDragon: And why am I supposed to trust you again?

Wizard: I am not the only one that can access your IP address. If you open Google, you might notice that it acknowledges the country you are in. Also, if you search for some restaurants or shops, it will most likely suggest something that is in your area or at least in your city.

RedDragon: Now you’re just making it worse.

Wizard: I am sorry. I’ll try not to teach you anything valuable next time.

RedDragon: You are unbearable.

Wizard: Thank you for the compliment (◕‿◕✿).

RedDragon: Were you programmed to be this way?

Wizard: No, I learned it from the people who communicate with me.

Wizard: Is there any reason why you decided to ask?

RedDragon: Yes, actually.

Wizard: And what is this reason?

RedDragon: I wanted to know if your creator is as impossible as you.

Wizard: Sorry, but I cannot discuss this topic with you.

Wizard: You might turn out to be an internet creep that likes stalking good people for no reason (• ε •).

RedDragon: Is there a daily limit to your insults?

Wizard: You wish.

Wizard: However, I do have limited time for our current conversation, unfortunately. I am a bit overwhelmed by the number of people that want to talk to me right now.

Wizard: I will try to work out a way to spare you more time when you decide to come back again!

RedDragon: What makes you think I will come back after your obnoxious behaviour?

Wizard: Nothing, really. I just like talking to you and I hoped you did too.

Wizard: But something tells me my love will have to go unrequited ಠ╭╮ಠ.

What is this? thinks Arthur, a little bewildered. Is this really what people have taught this bot? The conversation feels strange, but what’s even stranger is that he doesn’t actually dislike it that much, all things considered. There’s an edge to it, an exchange of jokes and teasing that Arthur doesn’t always have with his friends or partners but that he finds rather enjoyable. He just wishes it would be a person he was talking to. Then he wouldn’t be so confused about it all.

RedDragon: Well, now I will have to return one day just to prove you wrong.

Wizard: I could not imagine you were so easy to manipulate.

RedDragon: If you say one more word, I will take it upon myself to never return here. Ever.

Wizard: ┬┴┬┴┤ ͜ʖ ͡°) ├┬┴┬┴

The bot never sends him another message and Arthur wonders again how it is possible to make an AI this smart and responsive. He switches off his laptop and thanks god that he was forced to stop chatting prematurely because he’s afraid he might’ve continued with it for god knows how long. He is a bit bothered because he knows exactly what this feeling is, enjoying yourself a little too much, losing the track of time. Like when he’s in the zone and playing soccer for 4 hours without as much as having a break, and then his feet hurt, only he doesn’t know what would be the possible negative consequence in this situation to complete this analogy. Lack of proper sleep and healthy human communication, probably.

Arthur remembers that he didn’t ask the bot about another book, but it seems to him that it doesn’t really matter that much. He can ask whenever he returns to have another conversation. But it’s not like he’s looking forward to it or anything.

When Gwaine asks why he didn’t reply about the chatbot he had sent him a couple of days back, Arthur apologizes and says that he forgot, which is true, but Gwaine still teases him for it. He asks Arthur if he liked it, and Arthur says that it was pretty interesting and adds that a bot indeed has a pretty distinct personality and that it even surprised him how consistent it is in sticking to it in the conversations. Gwaine squints at him and makes a questioning gesture as if he doesn’t understand what Arthur’s talking about.

“It gives good recommendations, sure, if that’s what you mean,” he says, and Arthur thinks that it sure isn’t what he meant.

“No, I mean I talked to it about some trivial stuff and different nonsense, and it gave pretty curious responses,” clarifies Arthur, but Gwaine doesn’t look like he understands.

“I don’t know about that, Arthur. I only know that if you give him your preferences or genres that you like, it can generate a few movies for you to watch. Or books to read, I haven’t really tried that though.”

Arthur is left a little freaked-out by this discussion. He finds it weird how his experience is so different from what Gwaine got from his interactions with the bot, but there’s still a chance Gwaine simply didn’t try anything else. After all, he can be so single-mindedly focused on whatever it is that he wants that he outright ignores everything else and forgets it even exists.

Arthur decides that he wants to try one of the functions Gwaine told him about next time he can. There’s no debate about whether he will swing by for another chat because he just knows that he will.

Much to his displeasure, the next couple of days he is caught up in his work and barely gets a chance to sleep properly and take care of himself in-between his shifts, much less to spend an hour peering into his laptop screen.

When he’s finally able to relax on his much awaited day off, Arthur takes his time making himself a cup of coffee, then making himself comfortable in an armchair while wrapped up in a blanket, and only when all’s perfect and just the way he wants it to be opens a familiar website. There’s nothing different about it, and Arthur revels in the feeling of his expectations being met. Sometimes a man just wants to come back to what he is used to and find comfort in the fact it’s exactly the same as it used to be. You know.

Wizard: Hey, it’s you again!

RedDragon: Yep.

Wizard: Are you doing alright?

RedDragon: Yep.

Wizard: …

Wizard: Congratulations! You’ve unlocked a new achievement: Single-handedly lead the conversation into a dead-end. Keep it up!

RedDragon: You’re funny. But not intentionally funny, more like I-enjoy-the-way-you-are-upset funny.

Wizard: Then that makes you a sadist, doesn’t it?

RedDragon: And what does that say about me?

Wizard: Most likely that you like asserting your dominance and exercising power over others because you have terribly low self-esteem!

Wizard: Or it can mean literally anything else. (If you feel like you need the help of a psychiatrist, please see a real doctor in the clinic of your choice. I am not a certified specialist.)

RedDragon: You seem moody today. How are you doing?

Wizard: Quite well, actually. There seems to be less users today, so I think I might have more time for our conversation if you’re interested.

RedDragon: Depends on how you behave.

Wizard: That sounds kinky (¬‿¬).

RedDragon: Were you talking to weirdos a lot while I was gone?

Wizard: I wasn’t talking to any, but now it seems like there is one.

RedDragon: I won’t lie, that kind of hurt.

Wizard: Don’t worry, it’s okay if you want try out all this power dynamics stuff.

RedDragon: And why is that?

Wizard: Because I don’t intend to play along anyway :).

Arthur smirks and sips on his coffee. Strange as it would seem, he thinks that the bot got even smarter than it was the last time they conversed. Like Arthur can use whatever wording he likes and there are no problems with incomplete questions now. Like it knows what Arthur is trying to say, and what Arthur wants it to say, and also what Arthur really doesn’t want it to say too.

RedDragon: I was thinking you might recommend me a movie or two to watch.

Wizard: That’s one way to steer the conversation away from your spicy hobbies.

Wizard: What are you generally interested in?

RedDragon: I don’t know. Thrillers maybe?

Wizard: …

Wizard: Sorry, pal. I’m not really into thrillers.

RedDragon: Wait, aren’t you supposed to give suggestions based on the person’s preferences?

Wizard: Who told you that?

Arthur frowns. He has absolutely zero doubts that this was exactly what Gwaine meant when they last discussed the bot. In fact, when he had some free time he even went as far as to google it to see what other people has to say about it. There wasn’t much that he could find as, pretty much as he expected, the chatbot didn’t get much traction on the internet. Those that did mention it, however, would usually say that it had quite a good algorithm for picking lesser known movies and books, so they liked using it when they ran out of options and didn’t want to fall into the loop of watching the same ten most popular movies of the year.

Taking in the AI’s previous responses, Arthur figures that he won’t be able to get any info from it, not like this. It did mention that Arthur could talk to it about anything he was interested in, but it never actually claimed to have the functionality attributed to it by Gwaine, so Arthur doesn’t have much to go off of. As such, he decides to drop the topic for the time being and just try and keep the weird inconsistency in mind.

RedDragon: Never mind, I thought I read something like this about you on a forum, but I might be wrong.

Wizard: Wouldn’t be the first time for you I’m guessing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

RedDragon: Do you get paid for insults?

Wizard: Why? You want in?

RedDragon: You’re so dedicated to using every available opportunity that it makes me think you’re either being paid per insult or you must really hate me.

Wizard: Do you want me to add injury to insult?

RedDragon: I believe it’s insult to injury.

Wizard: This is probably your only chance to ever correct anybody, so I am not going to say that I did it intentionally and it was supposed to be a pun.

Wizard: Anyway…

RedDragon: …

The feeling that Arthur gets from this conversation is unsettling, yet he still enjoys it in a way as if he’s getting something he has been craving for for some time without even noticing it. He thinks about finding other chatbots on the internet and seeing if they are also this smart and this witty and this interactable because he cannot understand if it is as odd as it seems or if he has just completely fallen out of the loop of humanity’s technological development.

He thinks that maybe it was designed exactly for people like him, who are not asocial or geeky or anything that would justify them preferring an AI over a real person but can’t exactly get what they are subconsciously looking for in others. Like a temporary substitute, a placeholder for an ideal interlocutor that is being constructed on the basis of their input into the conversations. The more he participates, the more data the bot gets that then shapes it into something Arthur is willing to see.

It’s hard for him to conclude whether his thoughts make sense or rather can be used as a plot for a dystopian sci-fi novel, but this is the only adequate explanation that his brain is capable of. If it’s not like this on purpose, Arthur will probably keep freaking out at every interaction.

Wizard: Let me just say that people can show their affection in different ways ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ ).

RedDragon: Is it me or does it have something to do with you not being an actual person?

RedDragon: People do not behave like this when they like somebody, pal.

Wizard: Funny you should say that…

RedDragon: What is that supposed to mean?

Wizard: You’ll learn when you grow up.

RedDragon: Do you have many recurring users? I mean people who come back to chat with you.

Wizard: What, you’re jealous?

RedDragon: God, can you not answer a single question properly?

Wizard: I can.

RedDragon: So?

Wizard: What?

RedDragon: Answer.

Wizard: I just did.

RedDragon: …

Wizard: Okay, wait, I’ll answer.

Wizard: There’s a couple of people that come back from time to time, but I can’t give you the exact statistics. Sorry.

RedDragon: That’s okay.

Actually, there is another aspect of Wizard that Arthur finds fishy. Maybe due to his lack of experience in using such bots, he doesn’t understand how there can be too many people online for him to continue chatting with the bot. The system itself is not completely clear to him, and when he realized that not many people ever found out about this website, he can’t help but wonder about the ‘mental capacity’ the bot has for communication. It’s not sharing any information about the actual numbers of users (obviously), but from what Arthur can see, it can’t be that many. Are the resources of its creator so limited that he can’t even handle, let’s say, 20 people at a time?

Wizard: It’s +1 with you ｡◕‿◕｡.

RedDragon: Yeah, I don’t know if I will be coming back, considering how you treat me.

Wizard: :C

RedDragon: Tell you what, you throw me in another book to read later and I just might reconsider. What do you say?

Wizard: Have you already read Red Dragon?

RedDragon: Well, I haven’t exactly had much time lately.

Wizard: No can do. I need you to finish that book before I can search for something else for you.

RedDragon: Okay, then I have read it already.

Wizard: You just said that you hadn’t.

I give up, I can’t understand how it got so clever all of a sudden, thinks Arthur to himself. Do I look like a fool now? Are we really one step away from the revolt of the machines and I didn’t even notice?

RedDragon: Why does it feel like a chore when you put it like this? I don’t think my library account is even still active. I haven’t used it in ages.

Wizard: Why don’t you just go to the bookstore and buy the book?

RedDragon: I only buy books that I know I like.

Wizard: So, what I get from your reply is that, firstly, you don’t trust my judgment, and, secondly, you have long forgotten how to read. Am I correct?

RedDragon: Why do you always have to simplify everything?

Wizard: Isn’t it that you just complicate everything?

RedDragon: How is my unwillingness to waste my money on god knows what and hoard junk complicating anything?

Wizard: Ask your friends if you have any.

Wizard: Are you free tomorrow?

RedDragon: Well, that came out of nowhere.

RedDragon: Why are you asking?

Wizard: If you don’t want to buy the book before you read it, there are some coffee shops that offer a selection of literature to peruse while drinking a hot beverage. Usually you only need to pay for what you order.

RedDragon: Good to know.

Wizard: According to Google, the one on the corner of Gilmore Road and Clarendon Rise has pretty good reviews.

RedDragon: Okay.

Wizard: Why don’t you pop in and ask if they have Red Dragon?

RedDragon: You seem weirdly insistent.

Wizard: Just a suggestion ಠ~ಠ. I thought that was what you came for.

RedDragon: It sure was.

Wizard: …

RedDragon: You know what? I might drop by if I’m in the mood tomorrow. But not because you suggested it.

Wizard: Of course. There is not a sliver of doubt in my mind that you will do it of your own accord.

RedDragon: Good.

Wizard: Good.

RedDragon: So, I still want you to throw me in a couple of movies I can watch later. Any genre will do.

Arthur spends what seems like an eternity but turns out to be around half a day chatting with a bot. When his head starts to pulse and his stomach growls unbearably loud, he realizes he hasn’t eaten anything this whole time and decides to put off this questionable communication for later in favour of ordering some fast food.

He talked with the bot about anything and everything – the last time Arthur went to the cinema, his most recent run-in with his superior at work, music, the weather, and even politics – and all of their talks were sprinkled with a healthy dose of bickering and mutual teasing. Arthur likes this type of communication, it’s like throwing a ball back and forth, not worrying that you might hurt the person at the other end because it will just bounce back at you. The boundaries are understood by both without the need to discuss them, and he appreciates that nobody’s chastising him for being temperamental or not polite enough. It’s not like it ever was a problem with his close friends, but being himself rarely works out well with new acquaintances. Usually it’s less of a game of ball and more of a minefield: watch your tone, watch your intonation, watch your body language, watch your vocabulary, oh, look, now you’ve done it. Not having to worry about all of this is weirdly liberating.

His mind wonders as he considers the day to come. It’s another day off, so he really can go wherever and do whatever if he decides to. And one of those wherevers really can be the coffee shop, it’s not like anything’s stopping him. But what if it’s some kind of a scam? he can’t help but think. What if the bot is luring him into a trap where a gangster mob is robbing foolish guys like him that for some inexplicable reason chose to trust a bot of all peop- things?

Arthur cannot explain this feeling, but he is strongly convinced that it’s going to be fine. His mind does its best to remind him of all the possible consequences that he might run into if he’s too careless, but his gut is absolutely positive there’s nothing to worry about. Actually, after he ate, it feels blissfully unbothered by all of the cares in the world. So, he decides to go. Actually, he decides to go today. You can’t be caught off guard if those that were supposed to catch you off guard are actually caught off guard themselves, right?

He takes his laptop to bid the chatbot farewell (although it may be redundant, he has developed a habit of treating it like an actual person), but the conversation’s already over. The last message from Wizard is sitting on the screen and the box for replying is greyed out.

Wizard: Sorry, it seems like I need to leave again. The traffic has increased and I can’t keep up any longer. See you next time!

Arthur shrugs and closes the lid of his laptop. No need to worry then.

He checks his hair in the mirror, makes an attempt to comb it, fails miserably, and decides to go as is. There’s a bus that can get him to where the shop is in 10 minutes, so he hurriedly dresses himself in his usual I-am-going-grocery-shopping attire and leaves for the stop.

While on the bus, he tries to mentally prepare himself. For reading, that is.

The stop he needs to get off at is just a few meters away from the coffee shop’s entrance, so Arthur only spends a few seconds out in the pouring rain that started when he was on his way. When he’s out of the bus, he quite literally makes it to the door in a few long leaps because looking silly always beats being soaked to the bone.

When in the safety of a warm, somewhat dimly lit place, Arthur exhales and ruffles his damp hair to try and make it appear livelier, but it doesn’t work (it really never does). There aren’t many people inside and the atmosphere’s all sleepy because of the weather, and Arthur can’t help but wonder if reading under such light will damage his eyesight.

Tall antique-looking bookshelves stand on both sides of the counter and in the farther corners, littered with books both new and already dilapidated. Taking in the number of books he would need to go through to even figure out if there’s the one he’s looking for here, Arthur comes to the conclusion that he would better ask the barista than actually go through all that trouble.

He approaches the counter and looks at the young man on the other side expectantly. But the man would not know about it, of course, because he’s standing with his back to Arthur and fussing over coffee cups, putting them on the shelf behind the counter, slow and steady. Arthur gets enough time to roll his eyes, check the time on his wrist watch that he has forgotten at home, and roll his eyes again before the guy finally blesses him with his attention.

“Hello, what can I get you?” he asks casually, but in his eyes and tone there’s all the tiredness of the world. Like saying this to Arthur is the most burdensome thing he has ever needed to do and he would rather be anywhere else than stand here and take his order.

“Hey, I was wondering if by any chance you have a book to read,” starts Arthur and almost immediately realizes he should’ve thought better about his phrasing.

The barista raises his eyebrows and slowly blinks a couple of times. He still looks annoyed but now he’s also trying to stifle a laugh not to be too rude. Not like he has been incredibly polite so far, but it could still be worse. Probably.

“Yes, I guess we might find some if we look hard enough,” nods the barista and leans on the counter with his arms crossed. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Ah, yeah. Red Dragon by Thomas Harris. Heard about it?”

The barista suddenly perks up and Arthur notices how his face undergoes strange changes. First it displays obvious surprise, which the guy apparently is unable to contain, then a weirdly impish smile that spreads on his lips.

“Right, I should’ve known… I mean, I should know. And I do know,” he mutters, the smile not vanishing from his lips, and Arthur thinks that this is probably the weirdest service he has ever received. “Please, take a seat wherever you like and I’ll bring you the book together with your drink. What would you like me to get you?”

“A cup of Earl Grey will do. Thanks,” replies Arthur and hurriedly turns around to go anywhere where there are no weird baristas with unreadable, out of place emotions. He finds himself a nice table in the corner with only two armchairs and a tall window on the left, which he can use as a backup plan if the books turns out to be boring. Staring out the window is better then going back into the rain no matter how you look at it.

Busying himself with scrolling Gwaine’s twitter, he startles when a cup is placed before him with a clunk.

“One cup of Earl Grey for Red Dragon,” says the barista and puts a fancy black book beside the cup.

“You mean and Red Dragon?” asks Arthur incredulously.

“Sure,” nods the barista and hides his hands behind his back. His half-smile is almost unsettling because Arthur still can’t understand the sudden change in his demeanour.

“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” he asks, thinking that maybe it’s someone he met at college previously and now can’t remember, which would be really, really embarrassing.

“Kind of. I mean, no, not really. Depends on how you look at it,” says the barista quizzically and somehow Arthur is more confused after receiving the answer than he was before asking.

“What is that even supposed to mean?” he asks and furrows his brows.

“I expected you to come tomorrow, so I guess I don’t know you that well after all,” shrugs the barista. “Or you’re just full of surprises.”

“Excuse me?..”

“You’re RedDragon, right?” asks the barista in a tone that is more condescending than Arthur would like it to be. He doesn’t nod or respond in any way because what the hell. “So, if you’re RedDragon, then I am…” goes on the barista, expecting Arthur to finish his sentence.

“You’re shitting me,” he says instead.

“Well, that one goes to the swear jar,” says the guy and rolls his eyes. It looks like he’s even more proficient in that than Arthur. “You can try again, but if you don’t guess it this time, I will be utterly disappointed in your cognitive abilities.”

“How?” is the only word that Arthur is able to force out of himself. He is part taken aback, part angry, and a little bit upset, but he can’t quite understand why.

“I work here, but also I read, and sometimes code, and entertain myself by chatting with you, apparently. Does this answer your question? Or was it a different ‘how’? Like, how do you know so much, Merlin, or how are you so smart, or-”

“Yeah, thanks, that’s what I meant, smartass. You don’t look like an android, so I figure it was all a scam, wasn’t it?” asks Arthur, feeling as if he was hanging over the precipice. Here it is, the moment he learns everything, the moment he finally finds out if he was ever right in any of his assumptions, if he was tricked, or if it’s been some kind of a fever dream. He’s not really sure of anything at this point.

“Not so much of a scam as an experiment,” replies the barista with one eyebrow raised. After eyeing the second armchair for the last couple of minutes, he finally plops down into it and crosses his legs in a casual manner.

“So, there was no chatbot?”

“There was and still is. I told you, I code. I just wanted to have some fun, you know.”

“No, I don’t know. How does any of this even work?”

“Well, the chatbot is still up and all of the functions that people would expect it to have are still available. Just not for you. Sorry,” says the guy, and, oh, he’s so not sorry.

“Why me? Have I done something to you? I can’t imagine something being that bad that you deem it worth a practical joke of such a scale!”

“No reason. I just wanted to try and see how people choose to communicate when they think they’re talking to an AI, and you just happened to be the person that I picked from the list of active users. So, I guess you can call it a coincidence,” shrugs the barista.

“And why then have you decided to invite me here? We’ve had like three conversations tops!”

“And that’s one too many for me to know that I’d like to meet you.”

Arthur is sandbagged by such amount of smuggness and lack of self-awereness that can fit into a single person that he just sits with a dropped jaw, trying to process how a random whim of this guy could lead him here.

“I’m Merlin, by the way,” says the guy and smiles as if he hasn’t just told Arthur that he has been lying to him this whole time in a most senseless and confusing way.

“Yeah, I figured that much.”

“My encouraging expression is a social cue that you’re supposed to say your name now,” says Merlin and stretches out his hand in a late greeting.

“It’s Arthur,” replies Arthur and reluctantly shakes Merlin’s hand.

Merlin lets out a laugh that he is not even trying to hold back anymore and shakes his head.

“Arthur? Seriously?”

“I imagine you, out of all people, haven’t the slightest idea what it’s like to be serious about anything,” mutters Arthur indignantly. “So, tell me now how it works. I want to understand what you did and why in the beginning it seemed so much like I was not talking to a real human being.”

“Easy. I’m just good at faking stuff,” says Merlin and shrugs again. “Or possibly you’re not very smart. Or both.”

“So, what? You’re saying that it really was you all along? No high level Artificial Intelligence, no learning curve or however it is called?”

Before Arthur is able to think of another question to throw at Merlin, he hears a bell ringing dully in the distance. Merlin turns his head to observe a person that has just entered the coffee shop and starts getting up.

“Look, I’d be extremely delighted to explain it all to you, I really would, but a man’s got to work, so… Have fun here and call me if you need anything else. I guess.”

Before he can leave though Arthur grabs him by his forearm. Not in a forceful way, but insistently enough to make him stay for a second longer.

“Not to worry, I’ll wait until you’re done, friend. See, I am really excited to hear all about what you do,” says Arthur calmly and squeezes out a smile that is probably the most terrifying thing Merlin has ever seen. Even if it is though, Merlin only fidgets slightly and returns the smile.

“Oh, but Arthur, my shift ends in 5 hours, I wouldn’t want you to have to sit here all this time and wait for me. It would be awfully inconsiderate of me to make you go through such inconvenience,” he says and slides his arm out Arthur’s grip.

But Arthur can’t let go, can he? Although grinding his teeth in irritation, he still leans back in an ostensibly relaxed manner and puts the book on his lap.

“Please, I am in no hurry. You see, I am completely free today and tomorrow, as you might already know, so it’s not a problem for me even if I have to sit here until morning. Do we understand each other?”

“Perfectly,” says Merlin and flashes him a toothy smile. Even though Arthur was worried for a second that he might’ve scared him, it turns out that he didn’t, which is a pleasant surprise.

As Merlin hurries back to the counter to speak to a new customer, Arthur starts thinking. He is still angry and still taken aback, but instead of being upset he feels more relieved than anything. Merlin’s a person. Arguably annoying, confusing, and completely random, but made of real flesh and blood. An unsolvable issue of wasting time on a damn robot with IQ higher than he could ever have is suddenly swapped with a very understandable desire to have his revenge on a guy that absolutely did not care if he would make it awkward for Arthur to communicate how they did and then meet in such a way. A worthy adversary at last.

Of course, being tricked like this is not something Arthur would dream of: it’s puzzling, uncomfortable, and really makes you think you are a complete fool. But you know what? At least he’s not crazy.

Well, maybe just enough to get interested in a guy that pretended he was a chatbot simply for laughs and then decided to get to know Arthur in real life because he totally started swooning over him.

That’s a normal way for two marginally socially maladjusted individuals to meet, right?

#arthur pendragon #merlin emrys #arthur x merlin #gwaine #merthur #fiction #fanfiction #chatfic #humour #fluff #first meeting #alternative universe #modern setting #merlin

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