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tojilvrs · 2 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ FUCK MY EX! (AND HIS BOSS) ceo!toji fushiguro x fem reader (2.7k)

repost from my old blog!!!

⁂ warnings: MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI! toji’s not a bum, reader gets cheated on (not by toji), m receiving oral, pet names, degradation, rough sex, reader’s ex sees them at the end, unprotected sex, creampie, sex as a revenge ploy, some praise, foot on head during doggy (does this have a technical name lol?), also tagging foot fetish JUST IN CASE the last thing counts lol, toji coerces reader, use of the name ‘daddy’ ONCE, spanking, some aftercare, toji steals your panties (and your heart), reader has hair long enough to be pulled

⁂ a/n: this fic literally came out of nowhere i had no plans of writing until i saw twitter porn and a little lightbulb formed above my head. anywho this is not great i wrote and proofread it while i was sleepy so if there’s mistakes don’t tell me i will get embarrassed!!!! THE PACING MIGHT ALSO BE HORRID i was just trying to get my claws on some fictional wiener. k luv u alllll <3

You never thought you could get this low.

You also never thought you’d come home to find your now ex-boyfriend balls deep in his coworker he told you not to worry about.

Way past the stages of hurt and with no more tears left to spill, you found yourself angry. You were pissed at your ex for being unfaithful. Pissed at the woman for fucking around with a man she knew was not available. And pissed at yourself for not figuring it out sooner. Once you got over your sorrows and finally felt able to pull yourself together, you just wanted to rid your apartment of anything that reminded you of him.

That's how you found yourself across the table from that rat bastard's boss. A box full of his old shit perched in your lap and your nails tapping the side of the cardboard. Scanning the room of Mr. Fushiguro's luxurious office and finding yourself filling with rage all over again knowing that the last time you were here, you were helping him get promoted.

"Pleasure seeing you again," you watched as Mr. Fushiguro took a seat in his plush office chair, "though it appears you're here to play the part of 'scorned girlfriend' instead of ‘concerned girlfriend, hm?’ Word travels fast ‘round here.”

"Ex-girlfriend."

"Right," he clasped his hands together over his chest and kicked his feet up onto his desk, knocking over his name plate, “so what're you here for, scorned ex-girlfriend?"

"Just want to give his shit back. Passing it on to you so I won't have to see him and blondie going at it in your breakroom." You watched the man crack a smile before speaking again.

"S'all you’re gonna do?" He knew your answer by the way you tore your eyes off of him and focused them on the box in your lap instead. Slightly slumping down in your chair as if you were a child in trouble trying to evade the scrutinizing gaze of a parent “Oh, don’t tell me you’re just gonna let bygones be bygones and let him get away with it scott free.”

His tone made you feel like your entire situation was almost comical. You looked back up and narrowed your eyes at the man. Scanning his face and watching the scar on his lip twitch when the corner turned up in a smirk.

“Mr. Fushiguro-“

“Don’t have to be all formal now, call me Toji.”

“Okay, what exactly are you implying, Toji?” he sighed before standing up from his desk and fixing his name plate, smirk never falling from his lips and eyes never leaving yours.

“I know he is my employee, but i’m not really… fond of him either. And you’re too pretty of a girl to just let him get away with cheating. It’d make you feel better to hurt ‘em a little bit. Get a little revenge.”

You broke away eye contact from him again to look around his office. Taking note of how sparsely decorated the area was as you pondered and tried to avoid his eyes. It wasn’t the most mature or logical decision, but he was right. It would make you feel better to make him hurt just a little bit. “And how exactly might I go about that?”

Toji laughed a little as he walked around the desk, taking the box out of your lap and placing it on the floor before settling himself behind you. The sweet tobacco scent of his cologne invaded your nostrils as he got closer to you, making his presence feel almost suffocating.

“Y’know what would really get him?” His voice sounded as if it were laced with a honeyed sweetness. The sound surrounding you and ringing around in your ears. He shifted his feet, but you still felt the heat radiating off of him and onto your back.

“What?”You felt him grow closer. Leaning down behind you. So close that you could feel his breath fan against your skin.

“Fuckin’ his boss.”

The lewd suggestion tickled the shell of your ear. Your eyes widening and mouth going dry once you realized exactly what he was proposing to you. You opened your mouth to protest. To tell him how absolutely ridiculous that was, but your words fell short. Closing your mouth again to look down and stare at the indentions the corners of the cardboard box had left in your skin.

You couldn’t say that you hadn’t let your eyes linger a little too long at Toji Fushiguro. Always noticing how easy he was on the eyes when your ex would make you tag along to work events. How his suits would perfectly contour to his body. Showing off his bulging muscles through the fabric. How he seemed to tower over you and everyone else with his height and domineering presence. How your gazes would linger a little too long on each other and how his fingertips would “accidentally” graze your hips when passing you.

You were taken away from your thoughts by the feeling of his fingers slowly caressing up and down your jaw. His touch soft, contrasting the rough calluses that lined his fingers. You also realized he had now moved directly in front of you and you were eye-level with his crotch.

“What’ll it be, sweetness?” The tip of his thumb travelled up to your bottom lip, smearing some of your lipgloss. “Y’gonna let me help you get back at him?”

You slowly looked up at him and nodded your head, still not trusting any words to come out of your mouth. He smiled down at you, removing the hand on your chin to pet your head and using his other to unbutton his slacks.

“Gonna make you feel so good, you’ll forget allllll about your little ex-boyfriend.”

You were still looking up at him dumbly as he freed heavy cock from the confines of his pants, subconsciously parting your lips and slightly sticking out your tongue at the sight of him. Relishing in the way he looked at you and the noises he made once his cock makes contact with your awaiting tongue.

“Already so good and fuckin’ obedient. Did he teach you that?” You shake your head and he cackles. Easing his way into your throat. “So you’re just naturally a whore, huh?” He lightly slaps your cheek, not even hard enough to sting, and moves from petting your head to gripping your hair once you take him all the way into your mouth. Testing your limits and pushing his way past the tight ring of muscle in the back of your throat, loving the way you choke and sputter around him. “Takin’ me so good. Bet that motherfucker couldn’t properly stuff your throat.”

Toji’s right- he couldn’t. He also isn’t quite as big as Toji is either, in both length and girth. It also seems that the man in front of you didn’t learn to fuck from porn like your ex did. Only pushing your limits a little bit at a time and not throatfucking you from the get-go. Also making sure you’re not suffocating on him for too long.

You began to move your tongue over the vein that ran on the underside of his cock, watching in satisfaction as he throws his head back and groans. Doing it again and again and watching his face contort in pleasure.

“Shit, baby, got the sweetest fuckin’ mouth.” His voice is huskier now, almost breathy. You watch as sweat begins to lightly bead across his forehead and his hands come off of you to loosen his tie around his collar. The air becoming too thick and hot for him. You suck him off with much more passion as you get used to his size. Bobbing your head up and down his length and occasionally pulling yourself off to lick on the sensitive skin around his balls. Not paying much mind to the spit that has run from your mouth and covered the bottom half of your face.

“That’s it- hah- fuck yeah… that’s it. Gonna cum down that pretty fuckin’ throat” You kept up your ministrations, using your hand to lightly squeeze his balls as you took his full length down your throat once more. Listening as Toji’s pants became progressively more and more uneven. Only taking a few more short moments before his abs tighten and he takes in a deep inhale as he shoots his load down your throat. His leg twitching as the coil in his belly snaps. Pulling off of him to stick out your tongue and show him that you swallowed it all.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl, aren’t you?” He gripped your chin tightly and you nodded your head dumbly, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. He smiled and gestured for you to walk over to the plush, black couch he kept in his office. A guiding hand resting on your lower back as he layed you down on your stomach. He took his time running his hands from your calves all the way up to your ass, like he was trying to memorize every dip in your skin. Once he reached the hem of your skirt, he flipped it up. Gently running the palms of his hands over the smooth skin and giving the right cheek a harsh slap and soothing the sting with the very same hand that inflicted it.

“Suckin’ dick make you this wet?” Your slick had soiled your panties, smearing onto your thighs. His fingers lightly ran across the soaked fabric. You felt the couch dip under his weight as he settled behind you, feeling the fabric of his haphazardly pulled down pants and the heat of whatever skin that was exposed press into you.

“Sucking yours does.” you gasp as he pushes your panties to the side to make contact with your swollen clit. The cool air of his office hitting your soaked center makes you shiver. “You’re gentler than I thought you’d be.”

“Oh baby,” He pauses, taking his hands off of you to maneuver himself around, “you haven’t had the worst yet.”

You’re comfused until you feel the tip of his cock prodding your entrance and begin to push in. Your walls greedily sucking him in even though it felt as if he was splitting you in two.

“Tight as a fuckin’ virgin, y’gotta open up for me, girl.” His fingers rub tight circles on your clit. Using that to his advantage to thrust his cock deeper and deeper into you until he’s bottomed out. Your hips arching into him as any remnants of pain begin to wash away and are overtaken with white-hot pleasure. His hands find purchase on your hips as his thrusts begin to speed up. Going harder into you and somehow hitting you deeper each time, causing tears to spring in corners of your eyes.

“Already cryin’ on my cock and we’ve barely even started? Slut can’t handle it?” He slaps your ass again, not caring if it stings. You furiously shake your head as moans and whimpers spill from your lips. Trying your hardest to match his brutal pace with your own hips. “Oh, you think you can take control now, huh? I’d watch it, little girl.”

At first you think he pushes your face into the couch with his hand. That’s until you realize that both his hands are still on your hips and it’s actually his foot that’s found its place on the back of your head as he continues to fuck the memory of your ex out of you. Your pussy clenching down on him at the mere thought of the position.

“Like being treated like a whore don’t you? Shitty man couldn’t do it like I can.” You couldn’t respond back even if you tried. Too caught up in the feeling of being stuffed full by the most skilled man you’ve ever fucked and biggest cock you’ve ever taken. Writhing under him as the pleasure of his tip repeatedly hitting your spot over and over again was becoming almost too much.

Toji must’ve felt the way your pussy began to tighten around him or how your moans were so loud the couch wasn’t muffling them well anymore. His hand snaked around your hip and back down to your clit to rub shapes on it, bringing your closer to your peak.

“That’s right, cum on this cock baby. Hah- cum all over my fuckin’ cock.” He spoke to you through gritted teeth and the sound went straight to your core. It wasn’t long after that your back slipped into a deeper arch and your cunt clenched down on him even harder. A white ring of cream forming around the base of his dick as he worked you through your orgasm and worked himself closer to his.

“Such a good girl. You’re gonna take my cum, yeah? Gonna let me fill you up?” You nodded a quick yes, pussy still quaking from your orgasm. the only thing keeping your hips from collapsing into the couch being the vice grip of his strong hands.

The foot pressed into your head was removed and replaced by his right hand gripping your hair and pulling you up to meet his face. Looking him in the eyes for the first time since he started fucking you and seeing the beast of a man he’s become. Pupils blown, hair messy, and face sweaty as his grunts get louder, more aggressive.

“So pretty baby. You’re my good, pretty girl, right? C’mon, daddy a kiss when he cums. You’ve been so. fucking. good.” The last of his words were punctuated by rough thrusts into your heat. His heavy balls slapping against your clit so hard it was making you jump. You craned your head back even more for your lips to meet his in a sloppy, lust-filled kiss as he lets out a final rough grunt into your mouth. The familiar warmth flooding your pussy as his thrusts begin to let up.

He’s gentle with you for the first time in a while, gently resting your head back down to the couch before slowly pulling his softening dick out, tucking it back into his underwear, and smoothing your skirt back down. Rubbing a hand over the arch of your back and letting you rest on his couch as he pulls off your soiled panties and pockets them for himself. Also noticing a patch of your slick that has soiled the front of his pants and smiling as a mix of both of your releases begin to trickle out of your spent hole. Using two of his fingers to push it back in. The room is quiet for the first time in a long while. Only sound being the oscillating box fan in the corner of the room. It says quiet for a while, until you break the silence.

“Don’t even think I can remember the fucker’s name anymore.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You turn over onto your back to face him, watching closely as he fixes his suit to the best of his ability. “Wouldn’t mind seeing you again, if you’d like.”

He turns to face you, smirking again, “Can’t say I’d hate that.”

It’s your turn to smirk at him before letting your head roll over and rest again. Consumed with the thoughts of how that was definitely the best revenge plan you ever participated in.

You’re almost drifting off until that same thought wakes you up again. Sitting up to look at Toji.

“Wait, how was any of that a revenge ploy if he didn’t even see it?” Toji smirks, fixing his tie. Not even a second later you hear a knock on his door before Toji gives the visitor permission to enter.

“You wanted to see m-“ Your ex stops mid-sentence once he sees you lounging on his employer’s couch with his cum leaking out of you. “Wait, what is she doing here?”

“Baby brought your shit by.” Toji kicks the box towards him as he pulls your panties out of his back pocket and swinging them around his index finger. “Anything else you need? Or do you just wanna watch me fuck your ex-girl again?”

#forgive me if my blog gets annoying as I repost 🤞#female reader #jjk ‪♡#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader #toji x reader smut #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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tallsc · 8 months

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Hello fellow QSMP Tumblr people, I would like to make a offer and would love to see if this can catch on.

If we're adopting A1, let's go all out. We're taking care of this kid.

At least three times a week, someone on Tumblr, under the "qsmp a1 tasks" tag, should draw or write something about A1 doing at least one of the official tasks for that day or the prior few days (cause I know it takes time to draw or write). It doesn't have to be huge, could be anything from a sketch to a full picture or comic, from a few sentences to a full short story, as long as it appears under the tag and has something to do with A1 and one of the recent tasks! (Please say somewhere what task you're doing and what day it was from.)

A1 doesn't mind what name you use - Ai, Aaron, Ivan, just A1, something else entirely - as long as you still use the right tag so everyone can see that there's been a task completed. They also use any pronouns and have a whole wardrobe of accessories, again as long as it's clear in the art or story that the egg is A1 and not one of the other eggs.

Feel free though to include yourself or your OCs or one of the QSMP members or none or all of them, this is just a series of writing/drawing prompts with a purpose, go wild and have fun!

Due to it being Saturday already, required tasks won't start until this Monday. After that, let's see how long we can keep our community's new kid going!

Updates account

If anyone would like to translate this into any of the other three languages, I will gladly add the translations to this post and credit you for doing so. I want to make this visible and accessible to as many people as possible.

Translations below (French by @lb1412, Portuguese by @aurora-bore-aura)

Portuguese:

Oi pessoal do QSMP Tumblr, eu queria fazer uma oferta e eu adoraria ver se isso irá se espalhar mais.

Se a gente tá adotando A1, vamos com tudo. A gente vai cuidar dessa criança.

Três vezes por semana pelo menos, alguém no Tumblr, na tag "qsmp a1 tasks", tem que postar um desenho ou escrever sobre A1 fazendo uma das tarefas oficiais daquele dia ou uns dias antes (porque eu sei que leva tempo pra fazer arte). Não precisa ser muito, pode ser um esboço(sketch) pra um desenho completo ou quadrinho, de algumas frases para uma pequena história completa. Que precisa é ao menos aparecer na tag e ter relação com A1 e as tarefas recentes! (Por favor diga em algum lugar que tarefa se tá fazendo e que dia foi ela)

A1 não tem preferência com o nome ou pronome que você usar — Ai, Aaron, Ivan, só A1, algum outro que se faça — desde que você ainda use a tag dita pra que todo mundo veja que tarefa foi feita. Além de liberdade de pronomes ele tem um armário cheio de acessórios, então por favor deixe claro em algum lugar da sua arte ou história que o ovo é o A1 e não um dos outros.

Sinta-se livre pra incluir você, ou um dos seus personagens, ou um dos membros do QSMP, ou ninguém, ou todo mundo acima. Isso aqui é só uma série de sinopses para desenhar/escrever com um propósito, se solta e se divirta!

Como já é sábado, as tarefas necessárias não vão aparecer até segunda-feira. Depois da revelação, vamos ver por quanto tempo podemos manter a nova criança da comunidade!

French:

Salut les fans du QSMP, j'ai une proposition à vous faire et j'adorerais voir si ça peut devenir concret.

Quitte à adopter A1, sortons le grand jeu. On va s'occuper de cet enfant.

Il faudrait qu'au moins trois fois par semaine, quelqu'un sur Tumblr dessine ou écrive quelque chose où A1 fait au moins l'une des tâches officielles du jour ou de l'un des jours précédents (parce que je sais que dessiner ou écrire, ça prend du temps), et le poste sur le tag "qsmp a1 tasks". Pas besoin de faire quelque chose d'y mettre énormément d'efforts, ça pourrait être n'importe quoi, d'un croquis à une illustration ou BD complète, de quelques phrases à une courte histoire complète, tant que c'est posté dans le tag et que ça a un lien avec A1 et l'une des tâches récentes ! (S'il vous plaît, notez quelque part de quelle tâche vous vous chargez et le jour auquel ça correspond.)

Peu importe quel nom vous utilisez pour A1 (Ai, Aaron, Ivan, juste A1, ou même un tout autre nom), cela ne lea dérange pas tant que vous utilisez le bon tag pour que tout le monde puisse voir qu'une tâche a été accomplie. Iel utilise n'importe quels pronoms et possède toute une galerie d'accessoires, tant, encore une fois, qu'il est clair dans le dessin ou l'histoire qu'il s'agit d'A1 et pas d'un autre œuf.

Sentez-vous libre de vous inclure vous, vos OCs, l'un des membres du QSMP, tous les membres, ou même aucun, ce ne sont qu'une série de prompts de dessin/d'écriture avec un but précis, faites-vous plaisir et amusez-vous bien !

Puisqu'on est déjà samedi, les tâches nécessaires ne compteront pas avant lundi. Après ça, essayons de voir combien de temps la communauté peut maintenir notre nouvel enfant en vie !

#qsmp #qsmp eggs #qsmp a1 tasks #qsmp aaron #qsmp ai #art prompt #writing prompt #time to test this social experiment and see how much we've all pack bonded with anything egg-shaped

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natimiles · 2 months

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Lazy morning with Jude

Words: 597

Tags: scenario; fluffy; no pronouns specified; established relationship.

Notes: I did my best to make Jude sound like Jude, HAIUSEHASU. I hope this brightens your night, @judejazza! 🤍

In the first few weeks of the relationship, it was weird for you to wake up in the morning to an empty bed and his side already cold. You wouldn’t deny it made you feel strange, and sometimes you wondered if you were disrupting his routine, or if he really wanted you there.

Jude could be rough and sadistic, but he was never a liar. If he said your company was something he enjoyed, even if he didn’t sleep that much anyway, then you knew better than to doubt his word. That and his actions, which always spoke louder.

Every night, he would cling to you as soon as you made yourself comfortable on the bed. Sometimes he wouldn’t even wait for you to settle; he would pull you down and lock you in his embrace, intertwining his legs with yours. And you’d happily nuzzle against him, deeply inhaling his scent that did wonders to relax you.

Then you grew accustomed to this routine of yours, where you usually woke up alone, but never lonely. And sometimes you were lucky enough to wake up for a few minutes and catch a glimpse of him before he left for work.

Like now.

You wake up to something warm pressing against your forehead and hear some soft words you can’t understand. You grumble unintelligible sounds as your mind slowly wakes up. Scrunching up your nose, you flutter your eyes open, and even though it’s still dark outside, you can see a silhouette beside you.

“Jude?” you call out, your voice heavy with sleep.

“Ha?” he clicks his tongue and gently coaxes your eyes to close with his fingertips. “Go back to sleep.”

“But you—” You take his hand away, but he brings it back to your eyelids. Twice. “Jude!” you complain, holding it against your cheek now.

“Got ‘nother hand, y’know? Can put ya back to sleep real easy, princess,” he threatens, but you know he wouldn’t.

“Then just let me wish you a good day,” you say, shifting your body to get a better look at him and squeezing his hand tighter.

He could free his hand anytime, but he doesn’t, and it makes you tingly inside. He sighs loudly and bends at his waist, using his other hand to support himself on the headboard, bringing his face close to yours. You stay like this for a few moments, just looking into each other’s eyes.

“So?”

“Hm?” you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“Where’re my good day wishes? Can’t wait for ‘em all day.”

“Oh!” you smile, your whole face lighting up as his words sink into your brain. He almost feels the need to close his eyes to not be blinded by your brightness. “Have a good day! Take care of yourself, and come back home in one piece.” You hold his hand tighter and bring your other hand to the back of his neck, using it as leverage to lift your face slightly and peck his lips. “I love you.”

“Good princess,” he chuckles through his nose. “Now back to sleep. Love too,” he mutters so softly that you almost don’t hear it, and kisses your forehead.

You recognize the warmth and realize what the words you couldn’t understand earlier were. You can’t help but feel your cheeks blushing, and he smirks widely at your sheepish expression. He would tease you a lot if he didn’t have to leave already — he probably will when he comes back home later.

And with this cozy feeling inside, you close your eyes and try to sleep a little more.

Masterlists

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikevil jude #ikevil writings #ikevil scenarios #ikevil fanfics #ikevil jude x reader #ikevil x reader #ikemen villains x reader

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idolatrybarbie · 4 months

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pairing: santa!francisco "frankie" morales x fem!reader

word count & rating: 886 words | explicit jesus christ

summary: you're joking, right?

tags: santa kink???, cockwarming, cum, like so much cum, unprotected vaginal sex, unethical use of a mall Santa Village, semi-public sex, dirty talk and pet names, mentions of free use.

notes: hiatus more like LIEatus. what am i supposed to say here. this is unedited, straight off the dome. blame the gin twins @atinylittlepain @wannab-urs. sorry?

You can’t tell how long you’ve been sat here. The sprawling hall is dim with light, security fluorescents shining from the glossy, guarded windows of each storefront. Without all this festive set dressing, the mall at night would be purely creepy. With Santa’s Village set up amid all the sleek chaos, though, it’s cheerfully welcome. And here you are, taking full advantage of the generous invite.

Sat on Santa’s lap, you shuffle your hips the slightest bit, trying to relieve the tingles that run up and down your calf. Frankie—err, Saint Nick slaps your ass with a solid gloved hand.

“Sit still,” he tells you.

“Sorry, Mr. Claus.”

You stutter on a sigh as you feel him twitch inside you. The last thing you expected was to be spending Christmas Eve speared on Santa’s cock, keeping him warm as a nasty blizzard blows wildly outside.

“Have you been a good girl for me this year?” he asks, voice gruff.

“Yes, I promise,” you keen.

Facing away from him, you can feel the tickle of his magically fluffy white beard against the nape of your neck. The only thing keeping you sane is the thought of that same plush softly running along the skin of your inner thighs. Imaging Santa’s tongue in your cunt has you clenching around him, earning you a groan.

“You seem pretty naughty to me,” Santa says.

“Please, Mr. Claus. Santa, I need it.”

Without warning, he punches his hips up. The tip of his jolly cock reaches the very ends of your cunt in a pinch of painful pleasure.

“You’ll take what I give you, when I give it to you,” he says. “Keeping me nice and warm right here, honey. Be a good girl for me and you’ll get a nice present this year. Promise.”

“Santa, please. I’ll be such a good girl next year, I promise.”

“Yeah? How am I gonna hold you to it, little girl?” Santa asks. “Maybe I’ll keep you with the rest of my elves. They all work real hard, you know. Maybe I could put you to work.” He starts to move his hips, thrusts lazy into your wet heat as he continues to ramble. “Yeah, think I’ll do just that. While the rest of ‘em make toys for all the good girls and boys, you can stay right here with me. You can be my toy, honey.”

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“A bad word? That wasn’t very nice.”

Santa picks up speed, cock practically sloshing through your sopping cunt like driven-through snow.

“I think you’ll like it up North. Christ knows you’ll be getting enough pole,” Santa continues. He grips the skin of your neck in his hand with his thick fingers, holding you up like a disobedient kitten. “That’ll teach you how to be a good little girl. Hard work, all day every day. Usually Mrs. Claus does the baking, but I’ve got a special icing for this little cookie.”

The thought of being fucked, purely used at any time of day for 365 days of the year has the soft embers in your belly growing to scorching flames. He lets go of your neck, bringing that hand to the column of your throat while his other hand skates down the naked plains of your chest. His fabric-covered hand slides between your breasts and past your diaphragm, pressing down at the soft spot between your stomach and pelvis.

Each upwards stroke has you almost gagging, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you surrender any intelligent thought or movement. You can feel yourself dripping down around him, pooling between your thighs to the dark, sticky velvet of his disheveled pants.

“Look at you, little girl. My sweet doll. All plug n’ play, aren’t you? You like being my hard little worker?” Santa asks, lips brushing against your ear. “Want me to fill you up?”

“Please, please, please,” you chant in time with each of his thrusts.

“It’s pretty chilly in here. Can’t wait to watch it drip out of you. Think it’d make an icicle for me?”

“Ah, oh god,” you cry.

“I’ll let it drip over you, right back into that pretty pussy. How’s that sound?”

You’re past the point of talking. Santa uses your body for his pleasure, legs spread out in front of you like the wings of a turtledove. The constant smack smack smack of wet thighs and pussy almost creates a caroling tune; something for your mind to grasp onto as he fucks you stupid.

“I’ll have to make sure my girl doesn’t get too greedy. Can’t have you hogging all the toys next Christmas. Can’t have you too naughty,” Santa says. Then, “Ho—oh, it’s coming, honey. You ready for your Christmas gift from Santa?”

You bob your head in a nod, biting your lip as he gets his last few thrusts in. Your cunt sucks him in hungrily, squeezing with your own orgasm as you simultaneously milk Santa of his wintry blast. Somewhere in your haze of pleasure, you hear the faint jingle of Christmas bells. Finally, you’re sat still in his lap again. His snowy spend leaks out of you slowly, soiling the crotch of his pants further.

“D’you like what you got this year, little girl?” Santa asks.

“Yeah,” you say, breathless. “Can’t wait for next year.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #fic: jingle balls

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eoieopda · 8 months

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[visual content blog recommendations]

we see fic recs all the time, but i don’t think i’ve ever seen rec lists for visual content (gif/art/gfx/etc.) creators! they’ve been dealing with a bunch of shit lately between reposts, tumblr garbage, etc., so i wanna shout-out some favorites. thank you for keeping us fed!!

disclaimer: this is not an exhaustive list!! if you have recommendations of your own, please feel free to expand on this yourself and/or drop some of your faves in the replies for others to see. self-promo is always welcome here, too ✨ p.s. some of these are recent finds for me, so pls expect to see more of them on my blog. eta: i will be adding more as i go!!

[bts]

@yooboobies — réka’s gif sets are *chef’s kiss* and the ART? omg. the talent!!! 😭 we simply have to simp.

@cordiallyfuturedwight — apart from being one of the coolest/funniest people i’ve found on army tumblr, i am a kayla stan because the niche themes for her gif sets (ex. bangtan turtlenecks series) feel like they’re made 👏🏻 for 👏🏻 me 👏🏻 even though they absolutely aren’t, lmao.

@hopeinthebox — the bts as reductress headline + incorrect bangtan series are probably my favorite pieces of content on the entire internet??? also, lizzy is absolutely gd hilarious. tags are 11/10. a blessing upon my dash.

@kimtaegis — i’m not visually artistic enough to say this in a way that makes sense, but annie’s gifs are just… stunning? like, the colors? idk about the process that goes into that, but i imagine it takes a lot of time/finesse to be this vivid.

@kithtaehyung — ryen is the renaissance man of army tumblr, fr. not only can she write (like!!!) but she’s multi-faceted and insanely creative with her graphic design. i want her to tutor me, lmao.

@raplinenthusiasts — ooohhhhh my god. the coloring of their gifs makes my brain go brrrrtttt. this bts x the office set is on my “always reblog” list; i’ll share it every time i come across it.

@heybaetae — this set in particular is on my “always reblog” list, no matter how many times i’ve done so already. also, idk how to describe this, but kelli’s gifs are just…. crispy 🤌🏻 like, so satisfying with the…. texture? filtering? contrast? i’m an idiot re: editing terms, but go peep them and you’ll know what i’m trying to say.

@kth1 — literally who could ever forget maggie’s 100 days of (member) series??? the amount of work that had to go into that? unfathomable.

@jeurias — i want to wallpaper my house and office with their gfx. i’m deadass.

@jinstronaut — emmeline has been doing her “a jin a day while he’s away” series for OVER 250 DAYS NOW. i have never been nor will i ever be able to commit to anything to this level.

[multi/skz/atz/svt/etc.]

@starryoong — do not get me started on starry’s paintings, sketches, etc. because i will never shut up. ever. j’adore 🫠 is also a five-star human being.

@irlvernon — my queue is probably 80% max gifs at any given time. god-tier, fr. a must-follow for carats, as far as i’m concerned.

@vcrnons — incredible gifs, lovely human, and also the writer of some of my favorite svt fics??? we stan.

@yelhsaart — i don’t have any words for how much i love their art so please imagine guttural screaming instead. asdfghjkl!!!

@hizuillu — ……breathtaking. legitimately stunning skz art. like…… i have heart palpitations.

@snug-gyu — THE USE OF COLORS. i’m always a simp for pantone-inspired sets; they just scratch an itch in the back of my brain, and BOY HOWDY, is my brain satisfied 😵‍💫

@yunwooz — again, i have no idea what i’m talking about when it comes to the gif-making process, but the colors!!! the COLORS!!! like, taking a mv that’s not super vivid/is fairly greyscale and bringing it to life? ya know????

@booskwan — you want incredible gifs? they’ve got em. you want stunning gfx? they’ve got em. seriously, idk what to tell you except “pause right here and go follow immediately”.

@haechannabelle — listen……. annabelle’s art style is 😗🤌🏻 (that’s a chef’s kiss). the use of color, and the technique, and and and — ! ALSO, i must mention that she took, like, 50 hours to compile a boycott-friendly k-pop playlist. their vibes are simply impeccable.

rev. 4/10/24

#bts #skz #atz #svt #gfx recs #gif recs #art recs #jade speaks

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whenikissedthegiyuu · 8 months

Text

two - loud ass snoring

sakusa kiyoomi x reader

masterlist

“What if I just get a fake boyfriend?”

Atsumu and Suna glanced at each other, making me pout as I turned my gaze down to my nearly empty glass of wine. Suna was the one that sat down beside me, phone locked but never leaving his hands as always.

“Since Osamu’s not here, I have to be your conscience. Don’t dig yourself into a deeper hole.”

“It would get my parents off my back at least for a couple of months…” I murmured, ignoring Suna’s words as I finished up my drink. “I told my mom it wasn’t anyone they knew, though.”

Atsumu plopped down on the loveseat. “Why don’t you ask one of your Tokyo friends? I’ve always thought Kuroo is into you.”

I shook my head immediately. “I also said it wasn’t any of them…” I frowned at the empty bottle of wine on the table. “It would be too awkward for me to ask them something like that anyways. That would be like asking Suna or Osamu.”

Atsumu was quiet for a moment, “The only option is to come clean then?”

“What if you ask Sakusa?”

Atsumu and I turned to Suna at the same time.

“Sakusa?” I raised an eyebrow. “Have we not been over this already?”

“No, no. He’s gotta point.” Atsumu slowly nodded. “Someone your parents don’t know, you’re attracted to him so it would be easy for ya to pretend in front of ‘em.”

Suna unlocked his phone, fingers typing on the screen as he spoke, “Exactly, you’ll be busy at the wedding anyways making sure everything goes smoothly, you can use that excuse to stay away from your parents.”

“And his career can be the excuse why ya haven’t gone public with the relationship.” Atsumu added.

It was scary that Atsumu and Suna were agreeing on something. My gut told me that nothing good could come out of it, that

Of course, I only how how to make terrible decisions in life, so I went against my better judgement. “Guess ‘m asking Sakusa then.”

“Well, he’s on his way, so you can ask him then.” Suna’s lips curled into a lazy smirk as he locked his phone and dropped it beside him on the couch. “I just invited Komori.”

I stared at the brunet for a moment, a couple of knocks startling us out of our staring contest, signaling Bokutou and Hinata’s arrival. I stood up and headed for the kitchen. “I need another drink.”

being single was not exactly a choice on her part, it was more of a consequence of her demanding job as one of the best wedding planners in tokyo. her parents asked constantly if she was at least speaking with anyone romantically and when she would give them grandchildren. they pressured her to the point that she lied to them about having a boyfriend so they would leave her alone, only for them to say they want to meet him at her best friend’s wedding. time to come clean! or… find a fake boyfriend to keep her parents happy?

when i said i would make up for the lack of sakusa… i lied.

but i promise i SWEAR he’s gonna be in the next part lmao

if you have any questions or confusions feel free to ask away in the comments or messaging me

sometimes i fear i keep things too vague and forget y’all aren’t in my head to know what i’m supposed to be implying or referring to

taglist (fill this out to be tagged);

@chocoluxbaby @kittycasie @yuminako @coconut-dreamz @lilith412426 @theidontknowmehn @miycutie @kellesvt

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu social media au #haikyuu fic #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smau #haikyuu smut #suna rintarou #miya atsumu #miya osamu #msby sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa smut #sakusa x reader #haikyuu sakusa #bokuto koutarou #hinata shouyou

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daisyful-gvf · 1 year

Text

satin // by daisyful

18+

*********************************************************

pairings: jake x reader

tags: soft dom jake, restraints, praise, denial, a little overstimulation, pwp,

word count: 5.4k

notes: 😈 this goes well with ‘my propeller’ by AM

*********************************************************

He slid off the bed and disappeared briefly into the closet. Deep in your stomach, heat grew. You exhaled slowly, bracing yourself for it.

Shirtless and tan, he sauntered back to the bed, linen pants hugging his hips wonderfully. In his hand, a black satin strand.

He flicked his hand at you, asking you to move to the side from your position at the top of the bed. You obliged.

Beginning to move up the bed on his knees, he flashed you a devious smirk, before turning to lay down. You kneeled next to him.

He broke the silence as he ran the satin through his fingers, looping it around and around.

“Kiss me?” He grinned.

You nodded, preparing yourself for the satin to be cinched around your wrists, holding them out together in front of you as you kissed him slow. He bit and kissed at your lip and as he did, you felt his body shifting, squirming.

Finally out of curiosity about what had him moving so much, you leaned back.

Oh.

His own wrists were brought together in front of himself, the satin wrapped around them snug, a loose knot between them. He brought it to his teeth and bit down, pulling the knot tight as his eyes flicked to yours.

A groan fell from you involuntarily.

“Jake,” you breathed, watching him still.

He smirked again.

After shifting on the bed until he was comfortable, he raised his arms up silently, and while you knew what was happening, it was still hard to believe.

He hung the satin between his wrists on the small wall hook above the headboard that was installed precisely for this—it was always you, though.

A whimper escaped you as you drank the sight in—

He squirmed a little, hips pushing up into nothing, as he laid out for you. His bare chest shone with a light layer of sweat. His lips were starting to become red from nibbling on them, and the sight of his arms extended up, all splayed out for you, was something you’d never forget.

He smiled up at you, “You like this, huh?” he teased.

It was silent as you tried to take a breath.

Slowly you nodded.

His grin spread until his cheeks were tight at the apples, pleased with your reaction.

“Yeah? Wanna take my pants off?”

You let out a shaky exhale and nodded again, moving on your knees to settle between his legs.

Looking up at him, his eyes expectant and his hands trapped above him, a flush of heat suddenly swept over you. You had him.

Instead of complying immediately, you bent down and licked a line from below his navel to his right hip. He hissed and bucked into the touch.

“Angel,” he warned, “Don’t tease. Take ‘em off,”

You looked up at him, and his eyes were dark. Maybe it would be best to listen. After all, this was not a common occurrence—you’d do anything not to have it ripped away from you.

Sitting back up on your knees, you hooked fingers into his waistband and tugged them off. His cock sprung free immediately, as he had not opted for underwear with the day consisting of lounging around the house.

He was hard and flushed against his stomach, and suddenly you suspected that you may not be alone in your enjoyment of him being like this.

You took a moment to admire him, sitting on your knees between his legs, trailing a soft hand up his thigh. He watched your face.

“You still need to listen, even with me like this,” he murmured as you took him into your hand. He hummed contentedly at the feeling, but watched your eyes, “Okay?”

You nodded, overwhelmed at the sight of him. The muscles on his sides rippled as he squirmed.

“Answer me,” he said in a sigh.

“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation, “Of course.”

He nodded, then, and let his eyes close briefly as you tightened your fist around him. His stomach tensed and he exhaled slowly.

“Hands off,” he grunted, and immediately, you let go, holding up your hands as if he had asked you to surrender.

You watched him with wide eyes, wondering what kind of game this was.

He grinned.

“Good girl,” he said softly, “Just wanted to be sure you heard me.”

His eyes sparkled wildly.

You loved the duality, and it was clear he did, too.

Here he was, splayed out for you, vulnerable and bound. But his voice was firm, as velvety and soft as it was.

Your mouth was watering, watching him like this.

“Suck it,” he murmured, canting his hips up, “C’mon, sweet girl, take care of me back.”

He was right—you owed him. He had just spent about twenty minutes with his head buried between your legs, licking at you until you trembled.

You traced your hands over his thighs first, and then up to cup the soft part of his stomach. He huffed out a breath, waiting.

Taking him into your hand, you pressed a kiss to the head, earning you a soft grin.

You peeked up at him, “What?”

His grin spread, “S’sweet.”

You hummed and pressed another kiss to it, and then parted your lips to suck on the tip of him. His head fell to the side, laying against his outstretched bicep. With heavy eyelids, he watched you.

You found it endearing that he knew you’d take care of him, that there was no need for his hands to guide you.

Sloppily, you licked and sucked on him, drawing out soft moans, making his hips push up into your touch. You licked a stripe up the length of him and then pushed the head of him into your cheek, all the things you knew he liked.

After several minutes he was moving, arms tugging occasionally at the ties, legs bending, hips bucking.

You peered up at him with a smirk and he returned it.

“What?” he laughed.

“Like making you squirm,” you smiled, licking over the front of his hip. His breathing stuttered.

“I like it too,” he admitted with a grin.

You sank your mouth back down around him and peered up at him as you did, and the groan from him combined with the way his eyebrows were drawn up in the inner corners made your thighs clench.

His mouth fell open in a soft gasp as he hit the back of your throat, and quickly he was growling out,

“Come here,”

You lifted your mouth from him with a soft pop and did as he asked, moving to straddle him. Lowering yourself down, you slid easily against the length of him, something that made you both moan.

“Mm, yeah,” he nodded, looking down where you bodies met, “Do that for a minute,”

You nodded and ground down into him—a slick, lewd feeling that made your cheeks hot. Experimentally, you lifted a hand up to grab at the tie around his wrists, using it as a sort of anchor as you slid against him.

He looked up at your hands on his, a submissive little glance, and you groaned at it.

“Fuck, Jake,” you breathed, grinding down again.

He looked at you, a proud smirk on his face, “Yeah? Feel good?”

You nodded and let your eyes scrunch close as he rubbed against you just right.

“Wanna fuck it?” He murmured, pushing his hips up, and you had to brace yourself extra firm to prevent yourself from collapsing on him at that.

“Jake,” you groaned at the vulgar question.

“What, angel?” he was breathless, possibly trying not to fall apart, “Want it inside, mm?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, whiney, your other hand gripping at his tan chest.

“Yeah you do,” he cooed, “Go on, ride me,”

With a choked groan you listened, lining him up and sinking down easy.

“Oh,” he groaned. His eyes had shut gently and he was breathing out in a shaky puff of air.

He came to, then, eyes meeting yours, “C’mon angel, fuck me. Let me have it,”

You whimpered and began to rise and fall, legs bent at the knee on the bed, bouncing slowly. He was watching you closely, eyes raking over your chest, your neck, your face. His expression was somewhere between hungry and amused.

He was letting out soft moans when you would sink all the way down, and you felt drunk on the reaction.

“C’n you do it on your feet instead of your knees?” He murmured, eyelids heavy, “Always drives me crazy.”

You whimpered and breathed out a soft, “Yeah,” before listening, adjusting so you were squatting, balancing on the balls of your feet.

He sucked in a breath as you drew yourself upward, and as you sank down quickly, even more flush against him in this position, moans punched from both of you.

“Fuck,” he gritted, “Fuck, yeah, keep going angel,” he breathed.

You wobbled a bit, struggling to balance on the plush bed, and so you opted to grasp his hands, or mostly the ties around them. The rush that went to your head from the simple gesture was a bit ridiculous, but how could you feel otherwise—

He was glancing up at you, your tits nearly in his face, his eyes rolling every now and then as you bounced.

“Jesus christ,” he breathed, “Kinda wish I could touch you, now,”

His fingers curled around yours as best they could, an unintentionally desperate gesture.

He sighed, dazed, “Feels so fucking good.”

You grinned back and let yourself get lost in the feeling of him.

He always filled you perfectly and this was no exception, and the sensation coupled with the vision of him like this had you chasing an end already.

You leaned back slightly, steadying yourself with only one hand on the satin, the other hand pushing into the top of his thigh.

“Mmm,” he breathed, “You like this, angel? You close? You’re fuckin’ dripping…”

You nodded, jaw slack, unable to do anything but fuck yourself down harder on him.

“Fuck, let me help you, angel, come on,”

He thrusted up to meet you, somehow gaining leverage, his biceps and obliques flexing pornographically as he did.

“Babe,” you were moaning, desperate for it, “Please,”

“Touch yourself for me angel, cum pretty for me,” he soothed.

You moved a hand down to swirl lightly over your clit and with that, your eyes were rolling back, cheeks and chest flushing wonderfully with the tempting heat of orgasm.

“Good fucking girl, baby,” he gritted, rutting his hips up into you as you trembled, “Slow down, now, for me.”

You took a deep breath, moving slowly up and down. He exhaled shakily.

Something about the sight of him, the hair stuck to his face, the desperate look in his eyes shielded by an attempt at dominance, the way his chest was rising and falling, how his hands writhed in the ties— it unleashed something in you.

Meeting his eyes, you sped up, bouncing at a steady and quick pace, slick and divine.

His jaw went slack, eyes rolled involuntarily then focused back on yours, “Angel,” he whined, “Slow down,”

You tilted your chin up at him, watching him with heavy eyes, as you let out a soft whimper and continued the steady pace. Your thighs quivered, but the sight of him fueled you.

“Angel—“ he groaned, eyes squinting shut in focus, trying to keep his composure, “Ah—fuck—,”

As he blinked them back open at you, you slowed momentarily, letting yourself rest on him.

You paused long enough to let him safeword; he knows he can say one little word and you’d stop…

Instead, he ran his tongue over his bottom lip and tilted his head down, peering up at you, some very convoluted sort of submission. A silent challenge.

Smirking, you picked up the pace again, fucking him with punctuated ruts of your hips, and very soon after, he was whimpering, starting curses and not finishing them, eyes rolling back—

“I’m cumming,” he groaned, “Fuck, don’t stop, please don’t—“

His eyes squinted shut and his teeth bared as he let go, his arms and abdomen tensing. You whimpered, watching him come undone and fucking him throught it, slowing finally until you rested on him.

With a final shudder and a deep breath, he was blinking his eyes open at you with a lazy smile.

“Hmm,” he sighed, “Untie me, dear?”

You nodded, pulling his wrists down gently from the hook and working at the satin to unravel it. As he watched, you loosened it and slipped it off his wrists, finally tossing it aside.

“Good girl,” he smirked, bringing his wrists down in front of him to rub them.

You slipped off of his lap and laid beside him, taking a weighted breath.

He was on top of you, then, hand pinned around your neck. Your eyes blew wide, and his narrowed as he licked over his bottom lip and pulled it under his teeth.

“Thought I told you to listen?” he trailed the pointer finger of his free hand down your chest, down your stomach

“I…” you rasped under his hand.

“Shh,” he tightened his grip, “It’s okay,” he leaned down to bite at your jaw, “Gonna cost you, though, you had to know that,”

You whimpered as he licked over his bite.

“Cause I was gonna fuck you for the better part of an hour,” he murmured, “Was gonna stay all nice and tied up for you and let you keep cumming all over me,”

“Jake,” you groaned,

“I know,” he grinned against your cheek, “Would have been nice, huh?”

His free hand plunged between your legs, two fingers slipping inside you to the knuckle. You gasped as much as you could with your throat held.

“But you didn’t listen, angel. And now…” he licked at your bottom lip, “Now I’ve gotta sit here and play with you until I can get it up again. Cause I still plan on fucking you for the better part of an hour,”

Your head spun, both from the constricted airway and from the way his words dripped sex.

“How’s that, hm?” he fucked his fingers into you fast, making you whine.

You nodded. He pulled his face away from yours to stare down at you, eyes locked to yours.

“Can you cum again for me?,” he mused.

You nodded.

“Not too worn out?”

You shook your head, unable to talk, too wonderfully dizzy.

He slipped his thumb over your clit as he worked the other fingers in you, and very quickly you felt like you were coming out of your skin.

“Cum,” he demanded in a hushed voice, “Cum on my fingers,”

You groaned in a broken sigh as you gave into the orgasm, body shaking under his grip.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” he murmured, “Keep cumming, angel, c’mon,” he continued to fuck his fingers into you, quickly and perfectly.

As his dark eyes stayed fixed to yours, you found yourself doing as he asked, riding the wave as long as possible, until you felt like you were vibrating and could no longer stand it.

Still, his thumb moved over your clit.

“Jake, please,” you gasped.

“Mm?” his eyebrows raised, “more?”

“N—oh, fuck,”

He pushed his thumb harder against you, quickened his fingers even more, and your thighs were shaking and clenching around him.

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to breathe steadily.

“Mmm,” he was smirking devilishly, “That’s it, come apart for me, sweet girl,” his eyes raked over you, “I bet it feels nice, huh? Too nice?”

You were speechless, mouth hung open, taking whatever he was giving you as graciously as you could.

“How about this, mm?” He slipped down your body, removing his hand from your throat and instead wrapping his arm around your thigh.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed, knowing what was to come.

He licked over you in a hot, wet stripe.

“Jacob,” you groaned, “Oh—“

He chuckled into the heat of you, licking slow and wet. The contrast of his soft tongue on you after the strong pulse of his thumb was lovely. His fingers still worked expertly inside you.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “How about some teasing, mm?” He licked so slowly, leaving long pauses between them, giving the occasional nip to the inside of your thigh.

His fingers slowed to an unbearable pace, still curling wonderfully to where you were trying to bear down against him, but his arm around your thigh held you still.

“Shh, patience,” he soothed, licking your thigh, “You could have listened,” he grinned, “would’ve still had me deep inside you,”

You huffed out a breath, trying to relax against his touch.

“You like this too, though, don’t you?” he lapped at you again, “Nice and slow? You know I’ll still fuck you in a bit,”

“Yeah…” you whined, burying your hands in his hair as he licked slowly.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “Just enjoy it then, angel, mm?”

He placed his palm on your lower stomach and resumed the slow licks, and even slower, the draw of his fingers in and out.

It was nowhere near enough for you to cum again and he knew that; it was the most perfect teasing. After a minute or so of it, your skin felt hot; and your hips writhed on their own accord. He put more pressure on your stomach.

Eventually, the slow circles he was drawing around your clit with his tongue summoned a burning sensation in your belly. It was barely there, deep below the surface, but coaxed ever so slowly by his movements.

His eyes peeked up at you, and even in the soft brown, you could see the devious glint in them clear as day.

You tightened your grip in his hair as the warmth started to build gently in your core. You bit your lip and exhaled, welcoming the sensation.

Then, his fingers and mouth were gone.

You looked down, confused, brow furrowed. He giggled.

“What?” He nipped at your inner thigh, “Something wrong?”

“Babe,” you whined, “Please?”

“Oh, babe, huh?” He grinned, “You want me to listen?”

He bit at the top of your hip, still grinning.

“I…” you huffed out a breath.

“Hmm?” he slipped two fingers back into you, watching them as he did, groaning softly.

You eased his head down softly with your hands buried in his hair.

“What?” He kissed your clit gently, “You want me to do something?”

“Jake,” you were frustrated, “Please,”

“Mm? I don’t think I’m understanding. Maybe you should ask for what you need,”

“Please, just—just go down—“

He lapped over you, causing your sentence to falter into a broken moan.

He hummed into you, working quickly to coax the fire in you again.

The sound of his fingers fucking into you at a steady pace was almost as temping as the look of his sweat-soaked hair stuck to his forehead.

So soon, you felt you were coming undone again. Your fingers tugged at his hair to the point where he was whimpering each time you tightened your grip.

Your cheeks heated, feeling the wave rise in you.

“Babe,” you rasped, “I’m…”

He lifted his head again, crawling up over you, fingers still working.

You groaned at the loss of his tongue.

“Ja—“

He cut you off in a kiss. When he pulled away, you resumed,

“I was close, babe,” you whined.

“I know,” he brushed your hair from your face affectionately, “I wanted to be inside you for it, though,”

He slid himself against your thigh, hard and heavy again.

“That okay?”

You nodded feverishly, and swiftly he was removing his fingers and easing himself in.

He groaned as he bottomed out, and you shivered at the full feeling.

“So fucking perfect,” he gritted. He left a gentle hand on your cheek, and planted the other near your head on the bed.

His hair and his necklace hung near your face, swinging gently as he fucked you at a steady pace. His cheeks were flushed. The weight of him, gently rocking into you, his stomach colliding occasionally with yours, was intimate and lovely.

You could smell him all around you, too. His cologne, his shampoo, his sweat. Even like this, enveloped in him, you wanted more of him.

Your hands gripped at his back, at his neck and his jaw, trying to get somehow even closer.

“Babe,” you breathed, “I…I need,”

“I know, I know,” he nuzzled his cheek to yours, never faltering the slow pace of his hips, “I’ve got you. You wanna cum?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, hand moving up to tangle into his hair, “Please, I—please—fuck,”

“Shh, settle down,” he kissed your cheek, “Want it harder?”

You nodded, gasping at how your body felt like it was alight.

He nodded back, rolling his hips harder, drawing whines out of you and himself with every thrust.

“C’mon, angel,” he licked at your jaw, breath hot, “Let me feel it,”

Like that, your face was flush with heat, head spinning and stomach tensing in orgasm, a pathetic whine tumbling from you.

“Yeah,” he licked at your neck, “My sweet girl, you feel so perfect,”

When you came to, you held his face in one of your hands, foreheads pressed together.

“S’it okay if I go slow for a bit? I’ll kiss you all over,” he sighed, “I just wanna fucking feel you,”

The air left your lungs, overwhelmed by him.

“Yeah,” you nodded fervently, kissing him hard, talking in gasps between kisses, “Wanna feel you, too,”

“Yeah?” he licked at your tongue, “I fucking love you, angel,” he sucked on your bottom lip.

“Love you,” you gasped, “Please don’t stop, I don’t know if I can cum again but—“ he nipped at your cheekbone and you shivered.

“I won’t,” he promised, nibbling at your ear, his sweaty hair stuck to your skin, “I won’t, angel, just relax for me,”

Time seemed to suspend for a while. There was only the roll of his hips, blissful stars in your vision, warm breath, soft lips, strong hands. He fucked you slow and whispered the occasional curse, the occasional praise.

After an indistinguishable amount of time, when sweat plagued your bodies, he pulled out gently and sat back on his knees.

You whined at the loss.

“I know, sweetheart, hang on,” he murmured.

He was looking around, biting his bottom lip, brow furrowed.

He found it then—the satin. You groaned again, unprepared for any outcome involving the fabric.

Weaving it in and out of his fingers, he looked down at you with equal parts love and desire. He took a deep breath and grinned.

“I’ll tie myself up again for you,” he traced the soft fabric against the inside of your thigh, “If you fuck me nicely and you listen,”

You groaned again, head rolling, so incredibly turned on at the thought you could barely stay present.

“Angel?” he teased the inside of your other thigh with the satin, “What do you say, hmm?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, finally able to meet his gaze, “Please, I’d love it.”

“Good,” he sighed, laying next to you on the bed.

“Actually, you wanna do it?” He held the tie with two fingers towards you.

You got up, sitting on top of his thigh. He whimpered at the feeling.

You nodded, taking the fabric from him.

“Wrap it like a figure-eight,” he murmured softly, holding his wrists out to you, “And just—yeah, just like that, good girl,”

You tried to copy what he always did, and you succeeded, despite your fingers trembling at the surge of arousal coursing through you.

When it was tied, you guided his arms up and back to hook the middle of the tie. He sighed once he was in place, then inhaled slowly. He let the breath go in a steady stream.

“First thing,” he grinned, “Ride my thigh,”

You gave a choked whimper and nodded. Holding yourself up with hands on either of his shoulders, you slid against him.

“Fuck,” he bit out, watching you, “That’s so sweet, keep going, angel. That feel nice?”

You nodded and tossed your head back, trying not to be embarrassed at the desperation of the gesture.

“Soaking me,” he murmured, “So pretty and wet,”

“Jake,” you whimpered.

“Mm,” he hummed, “Touch me,”

You nodded and took him into your palm, stroking slowly over him. He shuddered at the touch.

“Wanna be inside you again,” he murmured, “But we’re gonna wait a minute. Gonna make each other want it bad enough,”

“Fuck, oh my god,” you whined, grinding harder into him, stroking him faster.

“Yeah, sweetheart, oh—“ his breath hitched, “Kiss my neck,”

You leaned forward, free hand holding the side of his neck, leaning in to lick under his chin. He made a high pitched whine.

You gradually moved your hand from his neck, allowing you to lick and nip at it.

After not very long, he was breathing heavily.

“Please,” he gasped, “Fuck me,”

“A little longer,” you sucked softly as his neck.

“No, no, hey,” his hips pushed up into your touch, “Look at me.”

You pulled back to do as he asked.

“You said you’d listen,” he looked somehow in charge, still, “Gonna be good for me?”

You nodded, swinging your leg over to straddle him fully.

“M’sorry, I’m trying,” you huffed, “It’s—it’s a lot—“

“Sweet girl,” he interrupted, “Just kiss me for a second, come here,”

You leaned in and kissed him needy and hard.

“S’okay,” he smiled, “On second thought, why don’t you just sit on my cock and kiss my neck for a minute, mm? How’s that?”

“Fuck,” your eyes fluttered shut, “Yeah,” you nodded.

“Yeah,” he grinned, “That’s my girl,”

You lined yourself up and sank down easy, still so wet from everything preceding. He bit his bottom lip hard as you wiggled your hips to bring yourself flush.

“All yours,” he tipped his head to the side and shut his eyes, still grinning.

You wasted no time, threading one hand in his hair and resting another on his bicep. You licked and kissed and nipped at the full expanse of his neck, loving the taste of him, and loving even more the way his skin would buzz under your mouth as he groaned and hummed.

Quickly, he was rutting up into you softly, though unable to do much with the angle you were in.

“Feel good?” you asked against his skin.

“So good, angel,” he sounded almost sleepy, “Can barely think between your tongue and your pretty pussy wrapped around me,”

“Mm,” you lifted just barely and sank back down, and a broken moan came from him.

“Fuck,” he said, “Stay still, sweetheart, just get me all wet,”

“Babe,” you sighed, nipping at his collar bone.

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Do anything I’d say?”

You whimpered and nodded against his skin.

“Look at me” he said.

You pulled away from his neck and tried with a dizzy head to focus on his eyes. He looked devious.

“Listen real close for me, angel,” he murmured, “Go up a bit,”

Hesitating only a moment at the specificity of his request, you did as he asked, pulling yourself up to where only the head of him was in you. You paused, waiting for his next direction.

“Good,” he licked his bottom lip. You raised an eyebrow at him.

He watched silently, eyes scanning up and down you. Your thighs began to shake at the way they were flexed to hold you up. He noticed.

“S’perfect, angel, stay right there,”

Not daring to question or challenge him, you whimpered, doing as he asked, thighs trembling more.

“Good girl, back down,”

You slumped back down easily, both of your breath catching at the feeling.

“Mm, good,” he breathed.

His hands writhed in the ties, his eyes flitting up and down you.

“Touch my chest,” he peered up at you, waiting.

You skirted your shaking hands over his collar bones, down his chest, touching the warm skin softly. He hummed.

“And my neck,”

Your hands slid back up, touching at the sides of his neck, effectively holding him.

His voice was gravelly, cracking here and there. He was nearly panting, breathing heavy, hips occasionally betraying him and pushing up.

You suspected he was doing all of this just because he could, just to watch you obey him even with his hands bound. You didn’t mind; if he got off on it, so did you.

He grinned, and you worried for what was to come.

“Touch my lips,” he murmured.

Nodding, you moved a hand up to his face, and gently, you traced your thumb over his bottom lip, tugging on it lightly. He grinned.

You touched his top lip with your thumb, and his tongue licked out at it.

You groaned, easing your thumb against his tongue.

“In my mouth,” he said, near whispering.

“Jesus,” you sighed, slipping the finger into his mouth.

He hummed and nodded around it, sucking softly, his mouth warm and wet.

“Fuck…” you whispered, “Can I move? Please?”

Removing your thumb, tracing the slick finger over his bottom lip, you hissed at the feeling of him pushing up into you.

He nodded, eyes blinking shut for a moment, “Yeah, angel, go ahead,”

Thighs aching, you rose and lowered yourself, making the breath catch in your throat at the drag of him.

“You’re being so fucking good, angel, so perfect,” he whined and looked down, watching himself slide in and out of you. “Fuck me just like that, sweetheart, make me cum again,”

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, tightening around him at the words. He sucked a breath in through his teeth.

You quickened your pace, bouncing on him, gripping at his neck and shoulders, watching him come apart beneath you.

Holding his wrists, your eyes stayed locked on him.

Soon, he was whimpering. No matter what, this was your favorite part. When Jake was close he always lost his composure—you knew that even this was likely intentional, though. Knew that he enjoyed letting himself break, letting himself say and do anything. He always sounded so desperate, it fueled you like nothing else.

“Fuck…fuck,” he whined, eyes shut, head resting against his arm, “Gonna cum, please keep fucking going, please—oh, just like that, keep fuck—oh,” he trailed off with a gasp.

“Baby,” you stroked his cheek, fucking yourself hard down into his lap, “Please, me too, come on,”

His eyes rolled open to look up at you, his mouth hung open, and like that you were gone.

As your head fell back, you rode him through it, and at that, he was pushing his hips up as hard as he could, releasing into you, letting out soft, ridiculously fucked-out whimpers.

When your eyes focused back on him, you fell in love all over again. He looked like yours.

He gave a sleepy smile. You held his face in your hands.

“Mmm,” he hummed and licked his lips, “Christ.”

You laughed and pressed kisses to his face, “Yeah, babe,”

“Untie me?” He asked softly, mouth chasing yours. You kissed him slowly.

“Of course,” you murmured against his lips.

You sat back and grabbed his hands from the hook, lowering them down in front of you, enjoying his soft groan at the stretch of his muscles.

“I liked that,” he whispered as you began working at the ties. Your eyes flicked to his and your hands stilled. He was looking up at you.

“Yeah?” you spoke in the same soft voice, hoping he would share more.

“Mm,” he hummed, nodding, biting his lip, “I mean, I came twice,” he laughed softly.

You laughed too, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. You pulled back to undo the ties.

“I love you,” he grinned at you, “So much, angel.”

“I love you more,” you slipped the tie off and rubbed at his wrists to soothe the red skin.

“Don’t you start that,” he smiled wider, “You know I’ll win.”

“Oh, fine,” you nuzzled into his cheek, resting against him and breathing deep.

“How about,” he kissed your cheek, “I pour us some wine,” he kissed your cheek again, “and order us some of that cheesecake you love,” another kiss, “and we shower off and lay down?”

You groaned, “Hell yes,” you pulled back to kiss him, slow, affectionate.

He held your face in his hands, thumbs running over your cheeks as he kissed. The pads of his fingers, even calloused, were always so gentle.

When you pulled away, he was smiling.

“C’mon angel, let’s relax,”

fin.

taglist

@starshine-wagner @dannywagners-middlefinger @writingcold @kels-gvf @aconfusedhippie @jordierama @fearless-wanderer @finelinejpm @thehourbeforesunrise @madz-0217 @gretavanbitches

#gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #greta van smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fics #gvf smut #jake kiszka fic #jake gvf #jake kiszka x reader

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thethreeeyed-raven · 1 year

Note

Oh Em Gee, your request are open 🫣😵‍💫🥵😫 You already know who I'm here who 🐦‍⬛👁👁👁

(Also if you have a taglist add me bbg)

Bran x Reader please!! Preferably fem reader but GN is fine! (I felt so embarrassed writing this req idek)

Anywho, maybe Bran had just married reader (right after returning to winterfell) . She had been with him and Meera on their journey to and from beyond the walls. So they've pretty much grown up with eachother.

Feel free to change whatever you want, but what if readers had a really bad day and all she wanted to do was hold Bran. So they're in bed and she's just holding him to her chest 😫. Cause he knows she needs the comfort more than her 🫣.

And she's worried for the future, so Bran is just telling her some moments that they will experience. Like together they visit a warmer kingdom for political reasons, but that they are both happy and safe.

IM SO SORRY IF THIS WAS WEIRD JUST IGNORE IF YOU DONT WANNA WRITE IT! Just do whatever you want to it, I'm good with anything fluff, smut, angst you name it. I just want a happy ending 🫣❤️❤️😘😘 TYSM

we shall have to wait and see

navigation | warnings : fem!reader, slightly suggestive, talks of children, pet names, reader might seem a bit childish ngl, reader is wearing a dress, a little dig at brans nose but i promise i fucking love his nose it’s so hot, um anyways- | a/n : if this ain’t what you wanted, i apologise BUT BRAN FLUFF IS LIFE | bran stark playlist | tags : @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @knight-of-flowerss

Sometimes you hated being the Queen, but you loved Bran, and Bran was the King, so you did your duty as his queen.

It got lonely in the castle sometimes, so you liked to walk through the rebuilt gardens.

Of course, you attended meetings of the utmost importance, but sometimes you just didn't feel like it.

Since the war with the white walkers, you had constantly been paranoid of the future. Always worrying about every little thing.

As you entered your chambers, you took some of the uncomfortable jewelry you were wearing off, slipped off your shoes, and clambered into the silk sheets on your bed.

Podrick entered the room with Bran, wheeling him towards the bed then bowing his head in your direction.

"Your grace."

Once the door was shut, Bran lifted himself onto the bed, then positioned himself so he was laying down.

You swung your leg over him, positioning yourself on top.

"Eager are we?" Bran smirked as he placed his hands on your hips.

Your hand was cupping his cheek as you gently stroked it with your thumb, instantly he knew something was wrong.

"What's the matter sweetheart?" He grabbed your other hand, the one on his cheek still stroking the soft flesh.

"Do I worry too much?" Your glossy eyes travelled to his.

Bran wasn't going to deny it, you did worry too much, but you had a right to.

"Maybe a little too much, but so what?" His hand travelled under the skirt of your dress and he softly caressed the flesh of your thigh.

"I think the council finds it annoying." You paused for a moment, Bran tilted his head. "Can you tell me about our future?"

Bran already knew the majority of your future together, he may or may not have had a little peak.

"Well," He brought your head down to his chest, gently kneading your hair. "Together we shall visit Dorne, for political reasons of course, but we will meet lots of nice people, and they will welcome us warmly." Bran felt you smile against him, making him smile too.

"I've always wanted to go to Dorne." You gently whispered, toying with one of the sleeves of his shirt.

"Maybe we shall have children, I'm not sure of that one yet..."

"Children? Would they have your hair?" You peered up at him delightfully.

"Maybe." He whispered wistfully.

"And your eyes? Maybe they should have my nose though."

"Maybe my dear, we shall have to wait and see."

#game of thrones smut #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #bran stark x reader #bran stark imagine #bran stark #isaac hempstead wright #isaac hempstead wright x reader #fanfic

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chaseadrian · 2 years

Text

stale popcorn, disgusting soda

day 7. praise // [kinktober masterlist] You've got two free movie tickets, Eddie's got heart eyes for you. Mix em and see what happens.

pairing. eddie munson/f!reader wc. 1.5k tags. 18+ ONLY, friends to lovers, praise, heavy petting, public sex acts, first kiss, eddie being a cheeseball, promises of a blowjob (part 2 tbd,) light fluff

Eddie was raised with a sharp hand, not a guiding one. Harsh pinches from his father, harsher words from his mother. Even when Wayne came into his life, saving the day with a tiny trailer bedroom, the man could do little more than offer a reassuring pat on the back. Sympathetic looks, leftovers in the microwave, small acts of kindness from one broken man to another.

You were the first person to really offer Eddie any solace. He sought the outcasts, the lonely kids, and took them under his wing, but you were the first person to take him under yours.

It isn’t a surprise when he seeks out something more.

You’re sinking in his bed, sitting on the edge, watching as he tosses tape after tape behind him into a pile of laundry. He hunches over the rack, his fingers running down the columns. Despite reading every one, he still throws several into the reject pile.

“Why don’t we just go see a movie? I won those tickets at my grandma’s bingo last week, remember?” You kick your legs straight out, crossing your heels, nudging the exposed strip of his lower back with the toe of your sneakers.

“What’s there to see at the movies that we don’t have right here? It’s just cheap action flicks and stale popcorn.” He spins on his heels and drops to his knees, stuffing a tape into his pocket.

“Maybe I like stale popcorn. Takes longer to chew.” You shrug, and he squints his eyes at you.

“And I’m the fucking freak in this town.” He shakes his head, “The van’s running low on gas, fill ‘er up and I’ll go. Deal?” Crawling toward you on his knees, he sets most of his weight on your thighs. His gaze on your lips is apparent, and you shove your hand in between the crowding space of your torsos.

“Deal.”

He smiles at you, and takes your hand, tugging you both up. You stumble a little into him, grabbing his shoulder to steady yourself. The leather folds under your fingers, and you can feel the edge of his collarbone just under your thumb.

If there’s tension in this moment, it passes too quickly for either of you to sit in it. Eddie gestures for you to leave before him, and you’re all too eager to listen.

—

The theater is dead empty when you arrive, and you stroll to the back row, plopping yourself down in one seat, and your jacket in the one next to you. You doubt anyone will try to snatch the seat, given that the previews are rolling and there’s exactly one occupied seat.

Soon to be two, as Eddie walks up the aisle, his arms full of candy and popcorn and some disgusting combination of soda in a large cup.

“What’s it this time?” You grab the snacks from him, eyeing the condensating cup.

“Mr. Pibb and Orange Fanta.”

“Disgusting.”

He sits down and shakes the soda in your face, “Don’t knock it before you try it.”

You lean over to take a quick sip, grimacing at the concoction, “Yup. Disgusting. Good boy for getting snacks though. Five points.” You pat him on the head, laughing as you start in on the popcorn.

“Hilarious.” He shifts in his seat, slurping down the soda and ripping open the pack of licorice he’d gotten himself.

His leg shakes as the opening credits roll, and you can feel his gaze flick your way several times before the first line of the film. You can feel the vibrations of his shaking, and finally you reach a hand over to still him, fingers splayed gently over his knee.

“You okay?” You whisper, leaning toward him while keeping your eyes on the screen.

“Yeah, it’s nothing, it’s just…” He says, staring at your hand, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile, “Could you do me a quick favor?”

You groan, shifting your eyes between him and the film, “Yeah, what?”

“Lean forward for a second.”

Furrowing your brows, you send a glare his way, but oblige, softening when he holds his arm up against the back of your seat.

“That’s it. Thanks.” He returns to the movie, and you settle into his touch, not completely confused, but still in a state of shock.

You would describe Eddie as a flirt, absolutely. Something about the way he can make his eyes sparkle, that special brand of mischief in his grin. If he likes you, you’ll know it, but whether or not he makes a move is an entirely different matter. You’d seen girls bat their eyes at him only to blink in confusion when he left them without more than a courteous goodbye. He was a flirt, but he rarely followed through.

You’re not sure how much of the movie passes with his arm around you, at least half, swapping popcorn and candy, taking a few swigs of his monstrous soda just to combat the dry mouth.

He squeezes you a little tighter, armrest the only thing separating you, and he whispers, “Hey.”

You turn your head an inch toward him, “Hey wh—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his fingers guiding you to face him completely. He’s instantly breathless, inhaling through his nose, fast, heavy breaths as you give in to the kiss. It feels like a privilege to have gotten this far, but you aren’t as shocked by this as you were by the arm that now pulls you closer, clutching the back of your top.

“Fuck, are you a good kisser.” You breathe into his mouth, covered by explosions and gunshots on the screen.

“Oh yeah?” He asks, forcing arrogance into the question, but a genuine earnest undercuts his tone. He runs a hand over your thigh, grabbing the popcorn to set it on the floor.

You nod against him, shivering as his fingers graze over your crotch and back down your other thigh. You pull back to look at him in the flashing cinema lights, trailing a nail over his features. Around his cheekbone, down the bridge of his nose, along the bottom of his lips.

“You are so pretty.” You whisper, his kiss wiping away any facade of friendship that you upheld. You were friends, sure, but God was it hard complimenting his music taste when all you wanted was to tell him how good he looked singing along to it.

His eyes flutter closed as you press a thumb to the corner of his mouth, running it against the specks of facial hair he hadn’t gotten around to shaving. He turns to kiss the palm of your hand, and you gasp as his fingers slip between your legs, rubbing over your tight jeans, slow and careful.

Leaning back against the theater seat, you close your eyes and focus on the lights dancing in front of your closed eyelids, Eddie’s touch entirely overshadowing your senses. You rut against him a little, snaking your hand into his hair as he leans over to kiss hickeys into your neck.

“Ohh, that feels s—so good, Eddie, you’re d—doing so good for me. Shit.” You stutter, and his teeth nip at your skin, free hand palming over the loose fabric of his jeans, trying to build some friction against his growing orgasm.

You pull him back by the hair for a kiss, whispering into his mouth, “Make me cum, and I’ll blow you in the back alley.” You reach for his hand, dragging your tongue up his first two fingers before taking them into your mouth, a wet pop! following as you suck down to the tips. He kisses you hard, nodding and pressing his fingers harder into the crease of your jeans, the taut denim hitting your clit as you rock into his hand.

“Yes, yes,” You gasp, trying to keep your voice down, but feeling sheltered by the loud movie, “Just like that, please, please.” You grab the arm rest, arching your back, squirming against his cupped hand, sputtering praise, “So good, Eddie, fuck, you feel so good.”

Eddie hovers just in front of your lips, nuzzling your noses together as you lose yourself, driven deeper and deeper into the pulpit of your orgasm before you snap entirely. You let out one audible moan before he wraps a hand tight over your mouth and forces you down in your seat, the rocking of your hips the only movement he’ll allow as you ride through.

He kisses you again when you can finally open your eyes, a deep, warm kiss with his hand just hovering against your cheek.

You sigh, content, and laugh when he offers you a sip of soda. You grab it and take several gulps, shaking your head at the taste, “Guess you earned that blowjob.”

“Shh,” He says, sliding a hand over to squeeze the meat of your thigh, a sharp touch juxtaposed by his head gently on your shoulder.

You tilt your head down atop his, pressing a small kiss to his hairline before returning to the movie you’d almost entirely forgotten.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson/you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x you #my writing #kinktober

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year

Text

Just to be clear: this post is entirely platonic. It’s about finding understanding through shared feelings of loss and guilt and the depth of platonic connections, so please don’t reblog with any romantic tags.

'Eddie, what's this?' Nancy asked when she walked into the hospital room to find Eddie upright in his bed, with a pile of paper on his nightstand and surrounded by origami boats.

'Hi, Wheeler,' he said with a smile that wasn't quite as broad as the one he would regularly flash at her in the school hallways before their Week From Hell.

He looked better than the last time she'd visited, though: he had more color on his cheeks and his hair had clearly been washed and brushed. Apart from the scratches on his arms and the stitches in his cheek, he almost looked normal.

'You ever heard of ghost ships?' he asked Nancy as she went to sit down in the plastic chair at his bedside.

'Ghost ships?' she repeated. She tried to remember a term like that from Mike's D&D games, but came up empty.

'They're like, versions of yourself that you'll never get to be,' Eddie explained, picking up one of the paper boats around him and holding it loosely in his hands. 'Like the version of me who'd graduate high school.' He picked up another of his creations. 'Or the version of me who could walk without a cane.'

'You might,' Nancy reminded him.

'See, that's the whole point of ghost ships, Nance,' Eddie said with a smile like he was making some kind of grand revelation. The sparkle still didn't quite reach his eyes, though. 'You hold onto them, because you can't let go. Until you finally set them free, send 'em out onto the ocean. Watch them disappear on the horizon.' He shoved one of the boats off his bed in a somewhat cat-like movement; Nancy followed the falling boat with her eyes until it gracefully landed on the linoleum.

She thought about her own ghost ships. There were plenty of them, as if she had unknowingly opened a whole ghost port back in 1983. The version of her that lived in the peaceful bliss of not knowing how to shoot a gun. The version of her that would grow old with Steve, or with Jonathan. The version of her that loved to dance. The version of her that cared about which grade she'd get on her chemistry test.

The version of her that had a best friend called Barb.

'What if you don't want to let them go?'

Eddie looked up from the boats surrounding him, into her eyes.

'Then they'll always keep haunting you.'

Nancy thought about that for a minute.

'Which one's haunting you most, right now?' she finally asked.

Eddie's fingers started roaming over his sheets, until he picked up one of his boats, cradling it in his hands like it was made of glass.

'The version of me that didn't kill Chrissy.' He said it so softly that Nancy almost couldn't hear him. His eyes, wide as always and suddenly glazed with tears, kept staring at the boat in his hands like he was expecting it to start talking back at him.

'The version of me that saw she was hurting and didn't – didn't use that to his advantage. The version of me who didn't sell her fucking drugs but actually tried to help her.' He took a deep, shaky breath. 'The version of me that didn't run away and left her when she started floating.'

This was probably the point where Nancy should remind him that what happened to Chrissy was in no way his fault; but she knew exactly how he felt. She knew exactly how empty those words would be.

'Did I ever tell you about my friend Barb?' she asked him instead.

Her heart ached at the mere mention of Barb's name; she had never talked about her with anyone, ever. Not really. Steve had tried to be there for her, that first year after it happened, by visiting Barb's parents with her and holding her when she woke from a nightmare; but talking about it wasn't something he had been able to give her. And neither had Jonathan, or even Mike, or anyone else who knew about... everything.

But Nancy now realized that Eddie might understand, more than anyone else.

He looked up from his paper boat, a questioning look in his eyes when his gaze found hers.

'I mean, I know what happened to her...' he said, hesitant.

Almost subconsciously, Nancy reached out to one of the boats on Eddie's bed and took it in her own hands.

'She died because of me.'

It was the first time she said those words out loud – or the first time since that one awful party that she couldn't even remember.

'She died because I didn't care enough about how miserable she was feeling. She died because I wasn't there for her.' She tried to swallow the lump in her throat away. 'Vecna, he – he showed me what happened, you know. How she screamed my name, and how I didn't hear her. How I wasn't there.'

She blinked, her eyes focused on the boat in her hands.

'I don't think I can ever let go of that.'

'Do you blame Steve, too?' Eddie asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. 'He was there with you, wasn't he?'

Nancy hesitated. 'I used to,' she finally admitted. 'But I don't anymore.'

Eddie nodded.

'So you can also forgive yourself,' he pointed out. 'Sure, it might take a bit longer. You can keep that ship docked in your port for a while. But that doesn't mean it has to stay there forever.'

And somehow, that was a comforting thought. Maybe being the owner of a haunted ship wasn't all bad. Maybe the fact that it would be staying for a while meant nothing less than that she had loved someone deeply.

'So do you have any ghost ships you want to hold onto?' Nancy asked Eddie.

He stayed silent for a while, looking pensive.

'I think I’m not quite ready to give up on Eddie the high school graduate,' he finally said.

'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' He nodded, looking increasingly more certain of his words. '87, baby. 'S gonna be my year.' He paused, the fake smile dropping from his face just as sudden as it had appeared.

'And I wanna hold onto Chrissy. Can't change a thing about that one anymore; but I'm not ready to let go just yet.'

Nancy nodded. 'That makes sense,' she said. 'Maybe you can anchor it next to Barb's one. They might like the company.'

#tw death #took me fucking months to finish this one #i wanted it to end in a hopeful way and not be depressing af because the concept of ghost ships is actually v comforting to me #but ngl that was HARD #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #platonic edancy #barbara holland #chrissy cunningham #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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captain19cb97 · 1 year

Note

Hi 👋 could I request a cute fluffy fic of girl y/n caring for sick Jungkook who caught a bad cold because he was playing with bam in the rain . Fluff and comfort. Please 🥹🙏please

Hi, Anon! 👋🏻

Oh my gosh, thank you so much😭 for being my first request, and sending this. I hope I was able to do your request justice and that you like it, but if I didn't, I'm so sorry! And feel free to send in another one.

Requests are open!

-Em

I'll Always Take Care of You :: JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader, side Jungkook x Bam (our boy has to have a moment with his puppy. he's such a great dog daddy🥰 ofc)

Word Count: 2770

Genre: Fluff/Comfort.

Warnings: Use of the term medicine, but I don't technically specify what kind. Other than that, I don't think there is anything. If there is, though, let me know and I will tag it!

You’d always loved the rain- thunderstorms, light drizzles, downpours, you name it. Most times when it would rain, you would turn on soft music, letting the sound fill your apartment before you’d make yourself a cup of hot tea, or hot chocolate if you were in the mood for something sweeter, before grabbing your fluffiest blanket and whatever book you were reading at the time and sit yourself in your little window seat in your living room and letting the day waste away while the rain fell outside.

Of course, occasionally, you’d forego all the set up and instead, you’d pull on a sturdy pair of shoes and maybe a jacket if you weren’t feeling like getting too wet, before running outside to enjoy the rain in the purest way.

When you met Jungkook, and you both realized that you shared the same love, and appreciation, for the rain, running around outside together and getting soaked to the bone became a much more common activity. And it only became more fun when you guys moved in together and Jungkook would let his dog, Bam, come outside with you both.

Now, usually, you were really good about not doing that when the weather was turning colder, though, never wanting to run the risk of you or Jungkook catching a cold. But sometimes, Jungkook’s childish nature got the best of him, and even if you wouldn’t join them, the two of them would still go and run around in the grass outside the apartment. Jungkook’s laugh always carried enough for you to hear inside, and it always brought a smile to your face, hearing him having so much fun, like he didn’t have a care in the world, and like he hadn’t been buried up to his neck in work at the company only hours before coming home to you and Bam.

Tonight, had been one of those nights. You’d told Jungkook you didn’t think it was a good idea because it had been decently cold the last week and even though today was warmer, the second the rain started, you knew it’d be better to sit it out and watch from the window, while dinner simmered in the kitchen.

“But baby,” Jungkook pouted at you, standing with his legs straddling Bam’s standing form, his hands clutching the sides of the poor, confused dog’s face. “He just wants to go run in the rain! Look at this face, are you really going to tell our son, no?”

Not even looking up from the open pages of your book at your boyfriend’s face, you had to resist the urge to smile at what you knew would be his best pout. It worked on you too often, so much so that all of your guys’ friends would tease you for being too soft when it came to Jungkook. “It’s raining too much for him to go outside right now, and it’s cold.” You said, finally raising your eyes enough to actually meet Jungkook’s. “And you could get sick. You hate being sick.”

Jungkook let out a quiet whine, finally letting Bam’s face go, only to hold him still with a gentle hand on his collar as he leaned down towards him, “Bam, go tell mom we want to go outside. Go tell her you wanna go.” He told the dog in an excited voice, knowing full well what it was going to do to him. “Go, go, go.”

You groaned, halfheartedly, as Bam bounded towards you- shoving his face into your hands, and pushing your book out of the way before he looked up at you with a look Jungkook was attempting to mirror from his same spot by the couch.

You sighed, petting Bam’s head, “Bam, it’s cold, baby, and your puppy rain jacket hasn’t arrived yet.”

“Awe, baby, come on! Please.” Jungkook whined again, “We won’t even stay out there for very long. 5 minutes, I promise. Just 5 minutes, and then we’ll come in and get dry and then we can have dinner.”

You met your boyfriend’s eyes, and sighed, finally letting the corner of your mouth curl up, “5 minutes, Jeon Jungkook, and then your booties better be back inside this apartment and drying off.”

Before you even finished getting the words out, Jungkook was throwing an excited fist into the air, before rushing towards you to quickly press his lips to the top of your head as he all but yelled out, “Thank you, baby!” before he was running towards the door to pull his shoes on, “Bam! Let’s go, buddy!”

He grinned widely at you once more, a moment later, as you held up 5 fingers with a knowing look, at which he shot a quick nod back at you as he let Bam pull him out of the front door. You couldn’t stop the little laugh the bubbled out of your chest at just how endearing you found that man as you quickly headed down to your shared bedroom for a change of clothes and two towels for when they came back in.

It was, of course, longer than 5 minutes, but you took one look at your boyfriend’s excited and smiling face when the door shut behind them and knew you couldn’t be upset about it- not really. Even as he shivered, standing in front of you as you draped one of the towels around his shoulders, before you dropped down to Bam’s level to start drying him off, you knew that they’d had enough fun that Jungkook didn’t care about being cold.

The next morning, you both had gotten up and gone about your morning routines like always. You gave him a quick kiss before you left for work, knowing that he was supposed to be home late tonight because he was busy at the company. Which is why, when you’d finally come home that night, and noticed a lump- the shape of your boyfriend, fast asleep on the couch, you were more than a little confused.

Your brow furrowed, “Baby?”

But he didn’t even move, just continued to sleep away, so you shrugged, and let it go long enough to get Bam leashed and outside for a couple minutes before you were back in the living room, crossing the floor to stand behind the couch, and reaching down to run your hand through Jungkook’s hair to carefully wake him up.

“Kookie?” You said softly, your breath hitching slightly when your fingers made contact with his skin. “Jungkook? Baby, you’re burning up, are you okay? What’s wrong?” You asked quickly, gently shaking him awake.

He groaned, burying his face further into the couch cushion for a moment, before he turned his head enough to look up at you, “I got sent home this morning.” He pouted.

You frowned, “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling good, baby?”

“Because- “, He started coughing, so much that you quickly went and got him something to help soothe his throat. He took the bottle of water as you settled on your knees in front of him, your hand lovingly rubbing at his knee while he downed almost half the bottle. “Because you said you were going to be really busy today.”

You cooed softly, cupping his flushed cheek in one hand, “If I’d known you were sick, my love, I would’ve stopped to pick you up some stuff before I came home.” You slowly stood back up, brushing his hair away from his face as you looked down at him, seeing the exhaustion in his eyes, “Do you want me to go get you some medicine? Or some soup?”

He leaned forward, pressing his already hot forehead against your stomach as he shook his head.

You sighed, lightly wrapping your arms around his shoulder, twirling the hair at the base of his neck a little, trying to think of what the best thing would be to do first. “Okay, well we need to get your fever to break, so can you go take a cool shower for me, and while you do that, I’ll make you some soup to help your throat?”

He whined softly, and his shoulders slumped even more, “I don’t think I can stand for that long, baby.”

You cupped both of his cheeks and smiled softly, “Then I’ll run you a bath, okay?”

He nodded slowly, his lips pursing a little from your hands, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

You could see it in his eyes, just how bad he felt- both for not saying anything to you, but also just in general. His skin was flushed, and sweat had begun to bead along his hairline from the fever, his eyes didn’t have the same shine to them as usual, and the tip of his nose was red from all the sniffling and wiping that you knew he’d been doing.

You still smiled down at him, leaning down enough to press your lips to his warm forehead, “Don’t think on it for another second, baby. It’s okay. Just let me take care of you, now that I know, yeah?”

A heavy sigh fell from his lips as he nodded again, before you helped pull him from the couch and led him down the hall to the bathroom. You had him sit down on the toilet so you could get the bath started, making sure the temperature was cold enough to help bring his fever down, but still warm enough that he wouldn’t freeze sitting in there.

While the tub filled, you quickly put in a few drops of a couple different oils to help with his stuffy nose, the headache you knew he had, and his throat, before you went and grabbed him a change of clothes, and one of the fluffiest towels you guys owned for when he got out of the bath.

“Alright, my love, into the bath, please.” You told him softly.

He pouted at you, “It’s gonna be cold though.”

You nodded, “A little bit, yeah. But you’re running too warm, baby. You can’t take a hot bath right now. I’m sorry.” You cupped his cheek, “It’ll help, I promise.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your palm, “Will you stay in here with me?” He asked before he finally started to undress. “I know you said you were going to make me something to eat, but I don’t know if I can actually eat anything right now- not with how bad of a headache I have.”

You hummed softly, “What about just some hot tea for now, then?” You suggested instead, reaching out to stabilize him before he fell into the wall. “And some crackers, at least?”

He sighed tiredly, but nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

You smiled at him, watching him as he slowly got into the tub before he sank into the water with a shaky breath at the temperature. “I know, baby.” You told him, “You’ll get used to it in a minute. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He didn’t even have time to miss you, before you were walking through the doorway again, a steaming mug of hot tea in one hand, and a plate covered in a handful of crackers in the other. He watched, with an affectionate yet tired smile, as you sank to the floor next to the tub and held out the mug to him.

He was shivering a little bit as he wrapped his hands around the hot glass, relishing in the warmth it offered his cold fingers. “Have I told you lately, how lucky I am to have you?”

His voice was scratchy, and quiet, yet you heard every word and couldn’t stop the smile that spread on your face as you held a cracker up towards his mouth for him to bite. You just shyly shook your head at him, playfully rolling your eyes at the same time.

“I mean it.” He mumbled, mouth half full of cracker. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you in my life. You take such great care of me, and Bam, I’d be lost without you.” You could feel your heart fluttering at his words, and at the look in his eyes, as you offered him the rest of that first cracker, still not saying anything back. “I love you, baby.” He whispered, an adoring smile on his slightly chapped lips before he took another drink of his tea- made to perfection, like you always do for him.

You let out a soft sigh, “And I love you.” You told him, without any hesitation in your voice as you smiled at him.

Both of you had been keeping your voices soft, not wanting to disrupt the atmosphere of the dimly lit bathroom, as you kept him company, occasionally feeding him another cracker as he slowly sipped away at his tea, the water in the tub slowly losing what little warmth it had been harboring for him.

You reached up, brushing his bangs from his face before you held your hand to his forehead, then the back of his neck. “You’ve cooled down a lot. Feeling better?”

He nodded gently, “Headache’s almost completely gone. Can I get out now?”

You giggled softly, nodding as you stood up and grabbed the towel, you’d set aside for him. “Come on.”

After a long few minutes, Jungkook was nice and dry, sitting on the couch under a light blanket with some random movie playing on the tv, while you mulled around the kitchen to make you guys something small to eat, before you both retreated into your room so you could try to get him to bed.

It was easy to see that Jungkook was completely miserable still. You’d agreed to lay in bed with him, at least until he fell asleep, so that you could pick up the apartment a little bit, before you finally went to bed, too. But sleep was the last thing on his body’s mind- even if it was the one thing it needed the most.

He’d started coughing more, and no matter how he seemed to lay- on his back, on his right side, on his left side, sitting up a little bit with his back pressed into your chest- his nose was plugged and making it near impossible for him to breathe.

Finally, after getting him into a position that made it somewhat easier, you’d disappeared into the bathroom in search of cold medicine. When he heard you come back into the room, having had his back to the door and not wanting to move after spending so long just trying to get comfortable, he whined when he saw what you were holding in your hand.

“Baby, no, please.”

You gave him a look, “I know you don’t like it, but it’s all we’ve got right now, and you need to take something.”

“It makes me feel yucky the next morning, though.” He pouted.

“My love, I don’t think you’re going to feel any yuckier than you do right now.” You pointed out, handing him the recommended amount of the medicine, and holding the water bottle low enough that he could take the straw into his mouth.

“I don’t wanna.”

“Kookie, please, just take the medicine.” You sighed, “I promise you, that it’s going to help you feel better, and it’ll help you sleep.” He looked up at you, still pouting, but took the medicine finally, taking a big drink of water right after. “Thank you, baby.”

“Are you still staying until I fall asleep?” He asked, watching you put the water back down.

You glanced back down at him, “Yeah, I told you that I would.”

He hummed just loud enough for you to hear it as you rounded the bed again and climbed in behind him, moving close enough that you could run your fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp to help lull him to sleep a little faster.

Neither one of you said anything as you laid there, the darkness of the room enveloping the both of you in a comfortable atmosphere, with only the sounds of your breathing bouncing off the walls- with the occasional cough, too, of course. Until finally, it seemed like Jungkook was almost completely asleep.

You leaned over enough to glimpse at his face and smiled, carefully moving to get out of the bed to go do your few chores for the night, and just as you had wrapped your hand around the bedroom door handle, Jungkook’s voice quietly sounded from the bed.

“Thank you, for taking care of me.”

You smiled at his back, “I’ll always take care of you, baby.”

#jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook x female reader #jungkook fic #sick!jungkook #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts drabble #bts jungkook

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achaotichuman · 2 months

Text

A Field Of Dahlias

Notes:

Finally free of the Mountain and Amarantha's grip on the people. The Spring Court is scrambling to get back to normal. With their wedding not far away, Tamlin is struggling to keep his Court from falling into disarray. When he starts to get sick things begin to take a turn for the worse and worser.

When Feyre is taken by the Lord of Night, it doesn't look like anything it can get any worse. With his life experience Tamlin should know that things can always get worse.

Request- Do you think you could write about dahlia in this context: https://www.tumblr.com/praetorqueenreyna/737196004108058624?source=share, hopefully featuring deadbeat at first mom feyre, horrified stepdad rhysand, tired of it all tamlin and a supportive lucien/eris.

Anyway here is this little fic. Also here is part 1, part 2, and part 3 if you missed 'em. You can also read this on Squidgeworld, or AO3.

Also! I am now realizing I have strayed entirely from what the original prompt was, which was basically the exact same events of Acomaf and Acowar just with the added inclusion of Tamlin being pregnant with Feyre's kid. Buuuut this is my story and I shall do as I please.

Plus if I rewrote the entirety of the Acomaf and Acowar books this would be unnecessarily long and I would lose all interest, so in an effort to keep things fun I have pretty much scraped the entire plot of Acowar and made it my own.

I think my ideas are more fun anyway. But when I tell you this plot is was deeper than I meant it to be, I mean it.

Anyway enjoy!

Tag- @sonics-atelier (Anyone who wants to be on the tag list, feel free to ask me!)

____________________________________________________

The next few days passed, each seeming longer than the rest. Meetings with Hybern that lasted hours, and keeping the mask glued to her face.

Lucien often found his way to the former human, snarking with him in the corner, sharpening his tongue and finding every way to irk the General.

Though it seemed Jurian entertained his game with insane eyes and a twisted grin. Lucien met it with skilled words and smart replies. Watching them dance around each other as they practically sized the other up was entertaining in it’s own way, Tamlin supposed.

Tamlin found herself coming into contact with the woman in robes more often than she liked.

Lady Amber, with her cunning mouth and smart eyes, she was a threat. A cruel snake in tall grass. Always lurking around the corners in the shadows. Watching with slanted eyes, everytime she opened her mouth Tamlin expected to see a forked tongue.

After a meeting, Lucien remained engaged with Jurian in whatever talk they had found. Jurian watched him with a cocked head and eyes that barely blinked. He looked as though he had lost it.

Tamlin slipped away from the meeting. A murmured goodbye to the Lords and an apology that she would not stay later. Hybern had brushed her off as he spoke to another Lord, and Tamlin was too tired to snap for a response.

Passing through the cold hallways, she kept her eyes ahead, watching the crawling shadows. A chill ran down over her skin, showering her in goosebumps.

As she walked over wooden floors. Dark green dress whispering around her ankles, she almost wished she had just grabbed Lucien, or someone to escort her.

She hated this place. Hated every room, every reminder of the woman who had made her life hell for so long.

But that would be stupid, she knew her way back to her room, and didn’t need someone to hold her hand.

But as she turned a corner, Tamlin nearly jumped.

Lady Amber stared at him, with her cruel icy eyes. Tamlin took a quick step back, one hand subconsciously going to her womb, the other falling to her thigh, where a concealed dagger laid.

“Lady Amber, I didn’t expect to see you.” Tamlin told her.

“Just taking a breath of fresh air.” She smiled. Even her voice sent chills down her spine.

“I see,” Tamlin replied, “Well, you enjoy yourself, I must be getting to my rooms.”

But as she went to walk past her, Lady Amber chimed, “Leaving so soon? Come Lady, we have barely spoken these past few days.”

Tamlin swallowed and said, “Well, we have been quite busy.”

She went to step away again, but Lady Amber moved smoothly to block her way to her rooms.

Shit.

Tamlin breathed a tad quicker than she needed to, and Amber noted that she cocked her head, a serpent's smile on her face, “Well, neither of us are busy now. Please, let us talk.”

Tamlin swallowed, another action she noted, shit, “About?”

“How far are you along?” Amber asked, tilting her head to the other side slowly.

She considered not answering, but ended up replying, “Five months.”

“Halfway then,” She murmured.

The world seemed to darken, Tamlin took a step back, feeling like something was pressing in around her lungs. Constricting her breathing, “Yes.”

“That is very interesting, and the father, or mother, is the Cursebreaker? Right?” She took another step forward.

“Yes.” Tamlin let the agitation shine in her voice, “Now, if that is all you have to ask, I will be on my way-”

“Oh but darling, I have more questions,” She said, reaching out a hand, her sleeve pulled back to reveal a bracelet of emerald. Her fingers brushed Tamlin’s arms, and she reeled back.

“Please do not touch me.” She insisted.

“Oh I apologise, my dear, but please do answer all my questions.” She prowled closer and Tamlin felt like prey caught in a hunting trap.

“I can answer any more questions in the meeting tonight.” Tamlin said, “Now please, I will be going.”

She pushed past Amber and headed in the direction of her room, wanting to sprint, to run, to go, go, go-

Amber grabbed her arm with such a force, bruises would surely be left.

Tamlin screamed, but a palm was slapped over her mouth.

She tried to summon claws, her magic fought to the surface. Screaming and crying as it raced to protect its favoured son.

But Tamlin cried out again as her magic slammed into a wall, preventing it from escaping. It shoved and pushed, and screamed and it felt like he was exploding under her skin.

Her eyes had screwed shut but when she opened them she saw the bracelet on Amber’s wrist glowing golden.

“My daughter has told me much about you, Spring Lord. And the power this child could have.” She whispered cruelly.

Tamlin struggled against her arms, but Amber was deceptively strong. And she was feeling weaker and weaker.

She laughed, “Emeralds hold much power from my family. Ours are enchanted, my dear.”

Tamlin tried to scream, tried to run, but Amber pulled her closer.

“The birth of your child will fuel the magic of Spring for centuries to come. To harvest that energy,” Amber's hand slipped down to take away the dagger from Tamlin’s thigh, “We would be unstoppable.”

No.

No, no, no, no.

She laughed, and that dagger began to slide over whatever bare skin she could find, “Even your blood holds power, it sings-”

“Amber!” A voice shouted.

Tamlin cried with relief as Amber quickly threw her to the floor. Barely catching herself on her knees.

Shit.

Dear Gods-

Looking up, Tamlin saw a familiar face.

Jurian was leaning against the wall. Eyes wide, mouth curled into a grin, face twisted with insanity. Tamlin couldn’t exactly blame him if he had lost himself, afterall he had been an eye ring not just a few months back.

“Jurian.” Amber said smoothly, “To what do we owe your company?”

She didn’t keep the sneer out of her voice. The man flicked his eyes between Tamlin and her, tilting his head to the side, looking like a cunning cat.

“The King has sent for you two.”

Amber straightened at that. Eyes glancing down to Tamlin. Burning with such an intensity Tamlin heard the words she spoke, ‘Don’t tell him a thing that happened here.’

As if the King of Hybern would care if she had been trying to kill her.

“And why would that be, Jurian?” Amber asked bluntly.

His grin twisted into something insane once more, “Why the delightful Cursebreaker has come.”

She was going to be sick. She was going to be sick all over the floors, or pass out, or a combination of the two. Tamlin raced to stand beside Jurian, and Amber maintained a leisurely pace behind them.

Her heart was thundering against her ribcage. Desperately wanting to run. To hide, to leave immediately. But there was nothing to be done. A predator at her back and an insane man at her side, there was no telling what either of them could, or would, do.

They went through the dark tunnels, and then finally, they were opening the large, heavy doors to the throne room.

Amber then strutted ahead and Tamlin sighed with relief as she was finally in front of her and not leering behind.

Hybern sat upon the massive, black carved throne. Soldiers flanking at every side. Many hidden in shadows, waiting and watching. Lucien was standing near to the throne but when he laid eyes on Tamlin, he ran to her.

“Tamlin are you-” Lucien blinked as he saw the sheer panic in her eyes, “Tamlin what happened?”

“We have to get out of here.” She whispered quickly.

“Dear Gods, the Night Court-” Lucien cupped her face.

“Lord and Lady of Spring, come forward.” Hybern barked.

Lucien looked over his shoulder and quickly took Tamlin’s hand leading her up to stand beside the throne.

Leaning in, he whispered, “Keep up the mask a little longer Tam, we’ll get out of here.”

Dear Cauldron and Mother.

The room was large, the ceiling looming far overtop of her. The throne she stood beside, was the same one she had seen her father kneel before. Seen Amarantha kneel before.

Now she stood there. Below the same King that had allowed his General to take over Prythian.

From the shadows of the throne room, she saw blue eyes glaring, and a cruel smile. Amber watched from where she could not be seen. Emerald bracelet gleaming in the minimal light.

Shit, shit, shit.

She was being hunted. Prey in a trap. Prey in a trap. Prey in a trap.

Lucien’s eyes followed her. Finding the glowing sky blue in the shadows. He looked back at Tamlin, opening his mouth to ask, or to accuse Amber. But he was cut short when the doors slammed open.

And writhing, kicking and screaming, was Rhysand and Feyre Archeron.

Her blood turned to ice.

She was dressed fully in Night Court uniform. Face twisted in hatred and anger. Eyes glowing with a storm.

Lucien stepped out in front of Tamlin, half hiding her from sight. Just enough that Feyre would only be able to make out half of Tamlin’s face and blonde hair.

“Welcome Night Court, to the Kingdom of Hybern.” Dae drawled from his throne.

“You.” Feyre hissed with such venom Tamlin nearly flinched.

“King of Hybern.” Rhysand murmured. His voice reverberated with power, even if he was held back by guards.

Three others came into view, and Tamlin’s eyes went wide at the Night Court entourage. Two Illyrian warriors, and a blonde-headed female with wide brown eyes. All their faces pulled back into snarls. All their eyes found the King of Hybern.

Feyre however was staring right at Tamlin and Lucien. She screamed something that Tamlin couldn’t make out.

“What an interesting group,” Dae said. Dragging a finger up the arm of his throne, “So you’re the great Cursebreaker? Finally a face to put to the name.”

“Release us!” Feyre screamed at him.

“Now, I cannot do that so soon, Feyre.” Dae said, “Why, you just got here. After trying to steal away with my little prize no less.”

Little prize…

“We’ll return to our Court.” Rhysand offered. “And give you no more trouble.”

Liar, as always. His ploy was as clear as crystal water, yet there was something nearly trusting in it.

Daemati magic, he was attempting to coax the King into releasing them.

Dae just laughed at his attempt, “Then I wouldn’t be fulfilling my part of the bargain.”

“Bargain?” The blonde haired female questioned.

Dae then gestured to the Spring lords beside him, “Why my bargain with Spring of course. I help to return their missing fawn, and I will have their loyalties in the War soon to come.”

“You bargained with them.” Feyre breathed, her spiteful face nearly blank for a moment. Before it curdled into undying rage, “You bargained to steal me back!”

“Feyre.” Tamlin breathed.

“How fucking dare you!” She screamed, voice raw and powerful. Echoing through the room.

That was the mother of her child. His child. Tamlin looked between Hybern and Feyre. Hybern who smiled so coldly down at her. Eyes narrowed and cruel. Feyre’s mouth was pulled back into a snarl as she pulled and kicked against the guards holding her down. Like if she was free she would run at the King, or Tamlin. Lucien seemed to sense that as he subconsciously held out an arm. Keeping Tamlin locked behind him.

Rhysand’s violet eyes jumped around the room. Locking into everyone. Taking into account every piece on the playing field.

Tamlin sucked in a breath, grazing Lucien’s arm with his fingers, “Feyre, we are saving you from him-”

“How dare you decide what is good for me!” She cut him off with a shout, “You have no right.”

“Feyre.” He felt the High lord’s power seeping into his voice, and begged it to stay at bay. For now.

“You will not take my mate back there.” Rhysand snarled, violet eyes glowing with barely concealed power.

The day outside felt like it got a little colder. And Tamlin's eyes went wide as his heart pounded against his ribcage. Mask slipping away as anger took hold of him. Burning inside his flesh, face heating up, bones tightening in his skin. He wanted to shift claws and fur and teeth and lash at Rhysand, but a hand reaching over to brush the back of his hand halted every action. Lucien’s eyes were set on the Night Court, but Tamlin could hear the unspoken words.

‘Just a little longer.’

Hold out, keep the beast at bay, just a little while longer.

So Tamlin straightened his back. Summoning the face of the High lord of Spring, he felt the cruel cold mask of his father slip away as he faced Rhysand with all the raw, unfiltered hatred he held for him, “I do not care if she is your mate, I do not care if you think you have a right to lay claim to her. She is mine and she is coming home with me.”

Tamlin remembered his mother’s face when his father laid claim to her time and time again. He remembered the tragic story of the former Lady Spring, how she had been taken by his father and claimed without consent, all for the crime of being his mate.

Tamlin wouldn’t let that happen to Feyre.

Never would he ever stand by and let that happen to any other female again, least of all his Feyre. His sarcastic, wild, beautiful Feyre.

But as the words left his mouth something deeply rooted, and hateful twisted in Feyre’s eyes. Causing the storm to darken like never before, she tried to leap forward but was reigned in by Hybern’s soldiers.

“Let her go.” Tamlin ordered, turning his eyes up to Hybern.

But Dae just lifted a finger, an order to be silent. Tamlin nearly snapped but Lucien’s hand gripped him quickly.

Damn it.

Dae lounged back in his throne, “Now, this has been as interesting as ever, but if I may, I would like to perform a little experiment.”

At those words, all eyes snapped to the King of Hybern. Lucien’s head turned so quickly Tamlin thought he heard the Fox’s neck crack.

“What-” Tamlin murmured, but his words were cut off.

The giant, black stone room seemed to darken for a moment, like the lights had flickered on and off simulatanously.

In between a heartbeat, the air shifted, tightening until it was nearly to heavy to breathe. Shadows pressed in and darkness swirled in his vision. It was like a presence had descended in Hybern.

An earth shattering clap of thunder, Tamlin jumped back and Lucien grabbed him by the waist. The Night Court reeled back, and someone screamed.

But the doors of the throne room were thrown open so quickly they slammed against the walls.

And four figures strutted in with their heads high, eyes cruel and each wearing the same twisted expression.

Four human women, each with flaming eyes of a multitude of colours. Like different colour flames. Each breath was a puff of power into the whirlpool of magic that had shadowed the throne room.

There was a shout of something incomprehensible and the two Illyrian warriors tried to rush at the human women, but the soldiers were fasted and in a split second, the two were chained to the floor by threads of black magic.

There was laughter and smiles from the humans as they gazed upon Fae brought so low. One, an older female were greying hair and silver eyes, stopped before the Illyrians, glaring down with a smile.

Tamlin felt the hatred burning off of her, years of remembrance from times humans kneeled before Fae was in her gaze. The High lord of Spring couldn’t say the hatred for their kind wasn’t deserved. It absolutely was.

But then she turned her eyes up to Hybern as the four approached his throne.

The seemingly eldest of the group spoke first, “Hybern, make this trip worth our time.”

“As if I ever wouldn’t.” Dae purred to her. Eyes gleaming wickedly. Something like disgust gleamed in hers, but she held his evil smile with a uncanny version of her own.

“What is-” Rhysand yelled out, cut off by a guard pulling him back by a rope that had been quickly tied around his neck.

Lucien moved even further in front of him. Hands twitching like he might just grab Tamlin, toss him over his shoulder and run.

Tamlin put a hand on his shoulder, if only to prevent him from doing just that.

“This, Lord of Night,” The eldest human purred, “is power.”

They bargained.

It was clear as day, Tamlin saw in all their eyes was magic that shouldn’t belong to humans. It came from a bargain.

And it was only confirmed by Dae’s next words, “The Queens of the Human realms and I have created a bargain of our own. I give them the power they so desire, and in return I have their support.”

The blonde female on the floor, next to Feyre, screamed, it was raw and guttural, “We had a deal!”

The Queens just grinned with cruel eyes.

Hybern was planning to invade the mortal world. To take them all back as slaves, and the Queens had countered with a plan of their own making. A last ditch effort to protect their lands, making plans with the enemy.

Tamlin caught the eye of one of the Queens. A beautiful woman, with eyes that were wide set like a fawn, hair perfect and dress smooth. Her fiery eyes burned into his own with delight and something rest-assured.

She winked, her grin softening into something confident and genuinely kind.

Tamlin returned it with understanding in his eyes.

They were here to protect their Courts. The same way he was.

But as he looked back down at the Night Court, it seemed the great powerful Daemati’s had yet to catch onto that.

Rhysand’s eyes were wide with panic, the purple shining bright like light violet, he writhed against his chains. And Feyre tried to dive a foot into the gut of the male holding her back.

“Let her go.” Tamlin ordered again.

Dae once again ignored him, “Back to my little experiment. As per requested by the Queens. I will show you just the amount of power we hold in the palms of our hands.”

With a snap of his fingers. The doors slammed open.

And the room fell silent as the air was sucked, and darkness filled the world.

Whispers of ancient evil and cruelty filled his ears, and phantom hands crawled up his skin. Invasive and touching, and filled with a power he could barely imagine.

The whispers got louder and for a moment Tamlin made out what they said to him.

“Son of the Lady. Son of our Lady. Son of the Blessed. Son of Dahlia. Son of Dahlia. Son of Dahlia.”

Dahlia.

Son of Dahlia.

His mother.

The Cauldron was placed on the floor, and the darkened liquid sloshing inside lapped at the edges of its cage. Whispering to the outside, curious and peeking around. Like fingers that traced the rim of the bowl. Beckoning.

There was a choked gasp and Tamlin’s eyes snapped down to Feyre, she wasn’t looking at the Cauldron, or the Queens or Hybern.

Rather she was staring down at a pendant around her neck. She held it in her hand as her eyes were wide, staring at it as it glowed with power.

Emerald.

He saw it in her palm, it flashed at him like metal gleaming. With power it glowed so brightly she clasped it in between her two hands, eyes shooting up, and they met his.

Momentarily stunned, hatred was all gone, as she looked to the Cauldron, then back to the necklace.

Two and two were quickly put together.

The necklace was reacting to the Cauldron.

“What-” Feyre gasped out.

Then there was raucous laughter as a snake stepped out of the shadows.

Lady Amber stalked towards the Cauldron like it called for her. The hood of her robe fell away as she approached, looking down into the deep magic it held like it was her own. Her eyes gleamed so wickedly, and as she lifted her hand, her sleeve fell down to her elbow.

And exposed her emerald bracelet, which glowed like a shining star in the sky, as if it was basking in the delightfully evil power of the Cauldron. Eyes gleaming in the reflection of the light, Amber turned her head up to the King of Hybern.

“We will be unstoppable, my King.” She murmured.

Dae grinned as he tossed a leg over the arm of his throne, lounging in all his glory, “I know, High Priestess.”

She was their High Priestess. No wonder she had such robes.

Tamlin looked back down to the emerald clutched in Feyre’s hand, as she hid it under her shirt.

He looked back at Amber’s emerald.

Feyre met his eyes, wide with confusion and fear.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

They needed to get out of here now.

“Lucien-”

Lucien’s eyes widening halted Tamlin’s words as cries and screams filled the air once more. And a set of guards winnowed in, bringing all Hell with them.

Feyre was the figure out what was happening, and the first to scream as she lunged forward.

“Nesta! Elain!” Feyre screamed, a guttural sound that shook the room with magic.

On the cold floor they were thrown, in just their nightgowns. The two Archeron sisters were tied, skin bruised, the eldest one had her lip cut, red and black blooming on her eye from where she had undoubtedly been punched.

The middle one was screaming, tears freely dripping down her face. Her hands were bleeding like she had been desperately grabbing onto something to prevent them from taking her.

No.

Fucking hell no.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Tamlin shouted up at Hybern. Stepping forward, wanting to rush at him.

Lucien held him back by his wrist.

Dae just grinned once again, “The experiment.”

“Let them go! They have no part in this!” Feyre shrieked.

“This was not part of our deal.” Tamlin seethed.

“No.” Amber said, hands hovering over the Cauldron, as if taking in warmth from a fire, “it was in our deal.”

Nodding, the King of Hybern grinned, “We needed a test subject for this little experiment. And these two, sisters of a Made Fae, will work perfectly.”

“You told them about my sisters!” Feyre accused, screaming as she nearly snapped her chains. Teeth and claws nearly breaking her skin, breaking through a near impenetrable force of magic around her.

“No, no I-”

“He didn’t.” Amber replied smoothly, eyes greedily lapping in the sight of the Cauldron, her own form of worship as she gazed upon it, “My dear little runaway daughter did.”

Runaway daughter.

“My daughter has told me much about you, Spring Lord.”

“Release them at once!” Tamlin shouted, hands curling into fists.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, none of this was supposed to happen.

Who told the King about them? Who would do this? Who would be so cruel-

“I told you not to come here, Tam.” An emotionless, static voice called.

A full body chill descended upon his skin, every nerve on end, burned and raw.

Please no.

If there was anything in the world he could ask for, he would ask for this to have all been a dream. Ice flooded him as starkly as the warm anger that had curled in his gut as another walked through those large doors.

Pale blue robes, blonde hair curling around her face. Eyes filled with nothing at all, as she walked towards the Cauldron, towards the two sisters.

“What have you done?” Tamlin whispered.

Ianthe stoic eyes didn’t meet his as she said, “You should have never come here.”

She told Hybern. Ianthe revealed the sister’s.

But that meant-

“Dear daughter.” Amber crooned, as she beckoned the Priestess forth. Ianthe obeyed, her head low as she stepped up to the Cauldron, beside her mother.

“Dear mother.” Ianthe murmured back, her voice as blank as her eyes.

No.

But denial was worth nothing, as Rhysand hissed, “I knew you were a viper, Ianthe. The apple never strays.”

For the first time since entering, emotion flashed in her blue eyes for a moment as she flinched at the words.

Amber ignored Rhysand as she stepped back and grabbed her daughter by her shoulders and held Ianthe in front of her. Fingers digging into the bone until it must’ve hurt. But Ianthe just held her head high and gazed into the Cauldron.

“Enough embellishments, let our experiment begin.” Dae declared, “The Mortal Queens wished for a show of how a human can be Made. We will give them just that.”

With a snap of his fingers, the guards grabbed Nesta and Elain pulling them to their shaking knees as they both pulled back and tried to kick away.

Dae observed them both with cruel eyes, before ultimately saying, “Put the pretty one in first.”

Nesta screamed as Elain was dragged to the Cauldron.

“No.”

She was lifted up, her head thrown back as she cried out. Heels slamming into the lip of the Cauldron, like she might shove off, like she might tip it over and run.

A burst of unadulterated magic struck him and Tamlin rushed forward. To Dae. To the Throne.

Claws and teeth and everything vicious and snarling. Tamlin lunged forward, but something burning and too bright grabbed him and reigned him back. Gagging him and pulling his clawed hands away from Dae’s face.

Tamlin snarled and Hybern laughed.

Gasps echoed from behind him, and Tamlin’s eyes widened by a fraction as he realised, Lucien was no longer in front of him to hide the evidence of the baby.

Hybern mouthed, ‘You will regret this.’

A shout of terror and anger vibrated in his bones as Lucien writhed against his own restraints, held back after trying to dive after Tamlin, and the girl being thrown into the Cauldron.

Nothing could be done. Even as Feyre screamed so loud the Palace nearly shook, Elain was thrown in.

The emerald on Amber’s wrist glowed as her smile widened.

And the world shook.

Everything quivered.

Like a shaking breath of pleasure, the ground, sky and wind melted into the point of the Cauldron, as Elain was boiled alive.

It was barely a second long.

Her hands broke the surface of the Cauldron and she grabbed the edge. Head breaking up for air, she gasped, and as she took a new breath, reborn, remade. The Earth quivered again.

Her long brown hair stuck to her back, neck and shoulders. Pushed up by her hands, nightgown soaked and sticking to her skin, revealing every part of her frame.

And Ianthe at the Cauldron, her stoic mask was burned away as she began to shake. Breath stolen from her lungs as her blue eyes shone like sapphires.

Elain’s hands slipped and she nearly fell back into the dark waters.

But Ianthe’s hands were faster. Nearly shoving away from her mother, she lunged forward, grabbing the creature that had once been the human Elain. And pulling her out, to the ground. Soaking her robes with water that was both holy and sinful.

“Ianthe!” Amber shouted. But Ianthe ignored her as she gently laid the shivering Elain in her lap as she kneeled on the floor.

Still the same eyes and sweet face, but her limbs were longer now, skin healthier, glowing. A golden light was pouring from her chest and the tips of her fingers. Haloing her head.

Ianthe was panting, breaths becoming shallower and shallower as stared down at the newly Made Fae.

“Ianthe, get back over here.” Amber seethed.

“Mate.” Ianthe gasped out.

The world exploded.

Nesta screamed as she lunged forward and tore Elain away from the Priestess, shoving Ianthe to the ground.

Amber shrieked something. Face burning red from anger, hands shaking, she snapped forward. Ianthe tried to scramble back, but her mother grabbed her, pulling her hood, her head covering off of her blonde hair. Ianthe screamed as she cried, trying to pull the hood back over her head.

Amber pulled Ianthe’s face to her own as she screamed curses in the name of the Mother in her face. Curses of breaking her vows, and Ianthe sobbed, heavy wet tears falling down her face.

“Enough!” Hybern’s voice echoed through the room, Amber looked back up to the King of Hybern, who nodded to her. Amber gritted her teeth and threw her daughter to the floor and quickly covered her head again as she cried and whispered prayers to the Mother. Apologies and begging for some kind of mercy.

Tamlin writhed against his chains. Pulling and pulling. Elain sobbed into Nesta’s chest, but the guards pulled her away, as they grabbed Nesta and forced her to her feet. Nesta screamed bloody murder as she was dragged to the Cauldron.

“No, No!” Feyre cried as she too was helpless but to watch her eldest sister be picked up and brought to the surface of the burning ice of the Cauldron.

But as she was plunged under, Nesta twisted her body and turned to Hybern.

As her skin was burned going under, the flaming water eating away at her skin and bones, turning her into something else. She lifted a hand.

Her eyes flashed.

Target locked.

Promise marked.

Nesta Archeron pointed to the King of Hybern, and Dae, Dae with all the power in his hands, flinched as his eyes widened and his skin paled.

And the once human girl went under.

If the world quivered in pleasure at Elain’s death and rebirth, it roared with anger at Nesta’s.

The air turned stiff and everyone began to gasp for air like it had been taken away. The ground under them shook and the stone floors screeched as it cracked.

Outside thunder split the sky. Causing the world to divulge into a show of rage and hurt, as the Cauldron cried out like it was being torn apart.

And finally, after too long and barely a second later at the same time, two hands broke the surface and Nesta tried to shove out of the Cauldron. Dark water dripped down her face, as she grabbed the rim of the bowl, she lifted her eyes.

Silver danced in them like flames of molten steel.

The whole room went wholly still.

She gasped and gagged, tears of anger and pain streaming down her face. She hauled a leg over the Cauldron, but as if something were pulling her back in, she slipped back.

In a sudden burst of light and energy, Lucien rushed to the Cauldron, free of his restraints.

However, he wasn’t faster than Elain, who scraped her knees, blooding herself further as she leapt up and grabbed her eldest sister’s hand. Dragging her to the floor. Nesta fell in a boneless heap in her sister’s arms.

Lucien, reaching them just a second later, didn’t waste time as he shrugged off his coat and draped it over the two sisters. Nesta snarled up at him, but out of energy she couldn’t force him away. Elain accepted the warm, dry clothing with little more than a piercing glare.

Made. Pointed ears pushed past their long locks of hair. Skin glowing with power that wasn’t previously there. Fae, through and through, with nothing human left to them.

Dae cleared his throat, cutting through the power and magic writhing in the air. He addressed the Queens, “Now you see what the Cauldron can do, the power it holds. Creation itself is in our hands.”

Creation itself.

Twisting his head, Tamlin looked towards Feyre.

Her eyes were wet with tears, and her eyes kept darting between everyone. Like she didn’t know what to think about first.

They were so utterly fucked.

Feyre didn’t know what to do.

At first it had been going just as planned.

Then she had turned her back on the Cauldron and laid eyes on one she had only ever seen as an eye ring on Amarantha’s finger. Jurian had smirked at them as guards descended on them.

Brought kicking and screaming to the throne room she had at first been set on rushing at the King herself. As she watched Cassian and Azriel struggle against their restraints. As Morrigan was tied up and Rhysand was chained, she pulled her power to the surface and prepared to rush him.

Then her eyes fell to two standing by the throne. Tamlin mostly hidden behind Lucien, who was watching with blank eyes. All anger had consumed her in that moment, as she remembered being trapped behind those doors, locked in that house. She screamed and wanted for blood to spill.

Then those mortal Queens, betraying them and looking down at Azriel and Cassian like dogs. Feyre wanted to kill them too.

Then her sisters, tossed into the Cauldron and remade. Because Ianthe, someone she had considered a friend, had given them away. Had willingly handed them over to Hybern.

Ianthe’s own words came back to her, “Just know not to take the word of Faeries at face value." She had told her. Almost like she was warning her.

Or perhaps taunting her, Feyre thought, since she ended up betraying her.

But then Ianthe had pulled Elain into her lap, and whispered that dreadful word.

Mate.

Feyre had wanted to scream and shout, but froze. Nesta reacted the quickest, shoving Ianthe away from Elain.

Then that High Priestess of Hybern, Ianthe’s mother, had screamed in the Priestess of Spring’s face.

Ianthe still was on the floor, her mother hovering over her. Watching her every move.

And Feyre found herself clutching the emerald necklace now hidden underneath her shirt.

It glowed with the power of the Cauldron. And when she looked at Ianthe's mother’s wrist, a bracelet of pure emerald glowed under her robes.

What else had Ianthe told her that day? When she gave her necklace? The day she had cried out in her mind for someone to take her away from that wedding?

"Take it, Cursebreaker." As she let it hang from Feyre's neck she murmured, "You may need it."

"Need it?" Feyre whispered.

Ianthe just smiled, "Trust me."

"You said yourself not to take the words of Fae at face value." Feyre countered.

"I did." She stated.

Before Feyre could once again point out the blatant hypocrisy, Ianthe said, "Try to see past the person, Feyre. Try and see what may lay underneath."

Try and see what may lay underneath…

What lays underneath, what lays underneath, what lays underneath?

Now Nesta, Made Fae and stripped of her human skin, clutched Elain. Whilst the middle Archeron sister pulled her in protectively, anger and pure fear twisting in her face as she helped to shield the eldest.

Feyre clutched the necklace tighter, part of her wanted to rip it off for the deceit of Ianthe, the other made her keep it on.

One of the Mortal Queens, those traitors, stepped forward and away from the rest. She was the eldest of the group, her darkened eyes swept over Nesta and Elain before turning back to Hybern, “We see that you have such great power, Fae King. With this confirmation, my sisters and I ask we go through to the next phase.”

Hybern smiled coldly, “Then let us proceed.”

Proceed.

As the Queen smiled, the others encircled the Cauldron.

Hybern caught Feyre’s widened, confused eyes. As the Inner Circle around her were strapped with chains and gagged with cloth. Morrigan fought them away as best she could, but the blonde was exhausted and easily restrained.

“I see you are confused, Archeron. Allow me to explain.” He grinned, “The Mortal Queens will be vessels for the Cauldron’s magic, and with them we will spread power throughout the entirety of the Realm, taking full control of this world and all its inhabitants.”

Full control.

Feyre snapped her eyes to Rhysand, whose entire face had gone completely pale. That rope around his neck choked him as it was pulled. Spine bending, his back arching as his whole body trembled. A half-muffled cry of pain tearing from his throat.

Then her eyes tore to Tamlin, gagged and bound. Green dress singed where the ropes burned over his clothes. And when her eyes fell to his middle.

Like alarm bells were blazing in her ears. Fae senses all sharp on and on edge. Instincts in buried deep down in her core fought to the surface. Forcing her to crawl forward, towards him, as if if she laid hands on his skin this would be undone.

Her mind was screaming it, a voice that wasn’t her own told her what it was.

Pregnancy, a baby, her child.

Her baby.

Shit.

Feyre rushed to her feet on fiery legs, her muscles contracting and burning. She rushed for the throne, claws shooting through her fingertips. She would rip Hybern’s throat out, she would kill them all, she would undo all of this.

She screamed as the chains around her limbs dragged her to the ground, the noise that left her throat was half feral animal. Every one of the Inner Circle swivelled their heads to her. Their eyes wide, fearful and confused.

She met them with a look of anger and pain. It coursed through her skin, making her fill with light from another power that was not naturally her own. Skin glowing, hands smoking with fire and the whole world so sharp and clearer than ever, a sob was torn from her. Making her whole body shake.

Shit.

Then a scream echoed through the castle. And smoke filled the throne room.

When Feyre looked towards the Cauldron, she saw black, ashy smoke that rolled out in waves, rippling over the stone.

And the Priestess wearing black robes, who had called herself Ianthe’s mother, was bent over the side of the Cauldron. Her face completely submerged, burning and bubbling off.

Ianthe stood behind her. Eyes wide and full of terror and rage. Feyre nearly flinched as she witnessed the Priestess of Spring with her hand forcing her mother’s face into the Cauldron as she screamed and screamed, even under the water.

“Release her!” Hybern’s voice bellowed through the room.

Ianthe did not listen. As fire flamed in her eyes she screamed for all to hear, “This is what you deserve, you fucking witch!”

In a second, everything turned.

As soon as Ianthe’s declaration left her throat, her mother twisted up. Her hand grabbing onto Ianthe’s robes and tried to force her down into the Cauldron.

“Ianthe!” Feyre screamed.

The Priestess tried to kick and fight back as her mother came back up from the Cauldron.

Oh Gods.

Her face, fairer than before, eyes pools of blazing fire. Hair dripping and soaked, light that spilled down her shoulders. Like the sun had come down from the sky and walked as a person. Blinding and beautiful. And so, so angry.

Her mother screamed something incoherent as she pushed her daughter to the lip of the Cauldron.

“The emerald!” Ianthe screamed as she grabbed onto the lip of the bowl. Nails tearing away, fingers pouring blood as her mother tried to shove her in.

Hybern shot up from his throne and gaurds rushed to the Cauldron.

The emerald.

It burned a hole through her shirt, and marked her chest as it filled with undiluted power.

Feyre grabbed onto the emerald even as it singed her palm, burning her flesh until it was scorching and smoking.

With no idea what it did or how to use it, Feyre did the first thing that came to her mind.

She brought up every drop of power she had writhing in her, screaming for release. Screwing her eyes shut so she only saw black. She imagined the seven orbs of magic, sitting deep in her belly. Waiting for their chance to rise. She imagined each Court. With their magic, their skies, their sights, their feels. Even the wind was different for each.

She felt the emerald grow hotter and hotter and hotter until her bone was exposed and turning black from heat. The pain was nothing compared to the magic clawing its way out of her body.

Winds that surrounded her, each different, some harsher, some hotter, some softer, some colder. Feyre didn’t know where her body began or ended as power collapsed in on her, and the emerald became her only anchor to the world around her.

Screaming erupted in the throne room and Feyre opened her eyes.

She saw light, golden beautiful light, it shone in her eyes and hair and skin. She met the face of Ianthe and her mother.

Ianthe grinned so wildly as her mother plunged her into the Cauldron.

Feyre screamed and the world shattered.

The Mortal Queens drew swords from the pockets between worlds. The eldest tossing off her heeled shoes and diving at the guards holding back Rhysand.

She cut them down in one fell swoop, heads rolling to the ground, and the High lord of the Night Court was free.

Feyre didn’t feel the ground beneath her feet, and when she looked down, she saw that she hovered above it. Power writhed around her like threads of light and fire. The colours shifted from green, to purple, to white, to black, to blue, to every colour she had ever seen and more.

With her hand clutching the emerald, she felt it, sucking the energy around it.

She gave and gave and gave her magic until the emerald had all of it. A stone of magic and power. Until it was no longer recognizable as an emerald, until it was just a pool of pure magic.

Falling to the floor, her knees cracked against the stone, she pulled it close to her heart as all magic left her.

Her breaths were slowing, her power was gone, her ears were rounded now, instead of pointed. And she felt the undoing of the healing work, as her neck felt more and more fragile, the bone chipping away.

Not much time left.

Ianthe’s mother left the Cauldron’s side as she rushed for Feyre, running with her hands out, trying to get the emerald from Feyre’s hands.

In one final burst of strength Feyre got to her feet and threw Ianthe’s mother to the floor. Then ran for the Cauldron.

Her feet gave out under her.

Sprawling across the floor, Feyre saw through darkened eyes, the emerald rolling from her hand out across the floor.

Then Ianthe’s mother laughing as she stood over Feyre.

“Off with your head.” She crooned, as her foot came down and snapped her neck.

Tamlin didn’t think he would be able to break free of the restraints that were holding him down.

Then he heard the sound of bone under foot. And he saw her again, red hair, and laughing cruel eyes. Hands on his bare skin. And then hands on her skin, her power holding her up as she snapped her neck.

In a burst of immense power that washed through his veins. Forcing to the surface. Roots that shot up from the ground. The ropes turned to nothing around him, bursting into light and warmth.

And Tamlin launched at Amber. Her head tilted back as she laughed and reached for the emerald.

But never got to it as Tamlin pulled her down to the ground.

She screamed as her arm reeled back and hand closed into a fist, connecting with his jaw. He cried out in pain, but grabbed onto her hand and yanked hard enough that a handful of blonde curls were ripped out. She screamed, pulled her hand back again and her punch landed in his belly this time.

Tamlin screamed, as she laughed and pulled her hand back again

Amber shrieked as fire split across her side and she was thrown across the room.

Lucien screamed his name and ran to his side.

He couldn’t feel much, that punch sent fire up his jaw, he tasted blood in his mouth, but nothing was compared to the terror seizing up his every movement as pain twisted and pounded in his belly. A sob was ripped from his throat. Big, wet tears shedding down his face, but he forced himself up.

Lucien grabbed and held him back. But Tamlin laid eyes on the glowing emerald, and the chaos around it.

The mortal Queens were fighting the soldiers with all the strength they had. Swinging their swords and meeting the soldiers for every strike. But being human, they were losing the fights.

The Illyrian warriors and the blonde female were grappling with their captors. And Rhysand ran for Feyre. Arms reaching out, screaming as he tried to grab her.

Then a guard reefed him back, shoving faebane down his throat. And forcing him to be tied once more.

They were losing. Badly.

And through all the chaos, the swords clashing and the screaming. Tamlin heard footsteps. Footsteps that reverberated through the room and through his bones.

When he looked up, Dae stared down with a grin. Reaching down he took the emerald in his hands. Filled with the power of seven High lords. Glowing like a fallen star spilling its light across land.

“Well look at this.” Dae said as he looked into his palm, at the star of power shining up at him.

“I do wonder just what we could do with this.” His grin widened as his head filled with all the power he now held right in the centre of his palm.

“Nothing!” A voice screamed.

The world rumbled, shaking with the power that shuddered through it.

Everyone ceased their movements as the earth seemed to come to a blinding stop.

Looking to the Cauldron, there she stood. On shaking legs, as unstable as a just born foal. Soaked to the bone, her hair stuck to the sides of her face. Eyes blazing with anger and courage.

Nesta Archeron clung to her limp sister. Her broken neck unable to hold up her head. Her formerly strong body, now unmoving and dead.

“You will be nothing.” Nesta breathed, voice a puff of frost in a frozen land.

Dae stared at her with wide eyes. Unable to anticipate what the middle Archeorn sister was doing.

Elain appeared from seemingly nowhere, as if travelling in between worlds. As if winnowing, but in a way that was slightly different, unlike appearing from one place to another, but as if running between the worlds, travelling on air.

She snatched the emerald from Dae’s hand, and as he shouted and went to grab it. Elain tossed the emerald into the Cauldron. At the same time, Nesta pushed in Feyre.

Coming back to life was a different experience than before.

Her skin burned and burned and burned. Back arching, each muscle on fire. Flames spread over her skin like never before. Singed like the hairs of a feather. Fire and icy water delving into her body. Ripped apart and put together again like a deconstructable doll.

She wanted to scream, open her mouth and throat and scream for all her life. But as her lips parted her throat filled with water and she choked. Drowning, as her lungs filled with it. The fiery liquid burning and freezing her all at once. In a panicking haze she fought to get somewhere. Anywhere, just out of the water, but there was nowhere to go.

She wasn’t in open air, instead underwater, deep in a void of darkness that was never-ending. As if she was in deep ocean. Opening her eyes, she looked down and saw black. Around her was just black, above her was all black. All of it was black.

Black, black, black.

She was dead, she had to be dead. She was in some kind of eternal punishment. This was the Hell she had been warned about. Oh dear Gods.

Her body went limp as her eyes closed once more. Unable to breathe, unable to think as she fell deeper into the darkness. Feeling cold seeping in like never before

Then something grabbed her.

A hand held onto her arm, keeping her connected to whatever was with her here. Her eyes shot open again, as her body fought for life, as something, that thing holding onto her, just being there wouldn’t let her die.

Darkness, it was all darkness, until it wasn’t.

Until something filled with light dropped down with them, like a drop of sunlight falling into the sea.

As it fell down to them, Feyre saw her.

Blonde hair floating around her face in the water. Eyes of bright blue. Skin pale and covered by pale robes.

Before it could fall past them, Feyre took hold of the drop of light, holding it in her palm as she stared at Ianthe.

And as that emerald sat in her hand, a warmth spread over her skin. Making her come alight. Her very blood began to glow with its magic, making every line, every vein underneath her skin light up with it.

The water was gone from her lungs, and air was no longer needed. Her body completely sustained on power.

Not dead.

They weren’t dead.

Looking down at the drop of light in her hand.

It was the emerald.

Soft fingers touched her mental wards. Feyre quickly opened them, and a soft voice spoke into the space between them, ‘Feyre.’

‘Ianthe.’

They stared at each other through the water, shimmering reflections connected their hands, holding onto each other like they might slip back into darkness at any moment.

‘They’re out there still.’ Ianthe said, ‘We need to use the emerald.’

‘How? It has all of my power now. How do we use it?’

Ianthe grinned as she covered Feyre’s hands with her own, closing the emerald in.

‘Breathe in, and command it.’

The Cauldron was bubbling over. Water splashing over the lip, hissing angrily as it hit the floor. Black flames licked up over the water. It boiled over as the world started shaking. Parts of the roof falling.

Time to get out of here.

Tamlin was still unconscious. Blood dripping from his mouth, a bruise swelling on his face. Lucien picked him up and stood off the floor, being as careful as he could. Pulling him into his arms even as Lucien himself still knelt on the floor.

He took a hit to the stomach, panic swelled in Lucien’s chest as he thought of what could have happened.

Gods please just make sure he’s okay.

Where to run?

The world around them was swirling shadow and fire and smoke. There was no way out. No one could get out now. They were in the middle of a losing fight, a circle of bloodshed and killing around them, as guards shouted, the Queens cried out, and the Night Court spun with their steel and hands.

And Hybern ran for the Cauldron. The King looked over the edge, going past the bubbling and the black fire spreading. Looking in, trying to find that emerald of light.

Elain had fallen to her knees and crawled to her shaking sister, who even with her eyes of steel could not hide her horror at the sights around her.

Lucien pulled Tamlin closer to his chest, and pulled fire from his core as his eyes lit up.

And his own flames burst through the room.

Two guards screamed as their body was reduced to ashes. Around them, Lucien formed a circle of impenetrable flames, and did the same for Elain and Nesta. Elain whom had pulled Lucien’s coat from the floor and covered her sister with it. Her doe brown eyes jumped up to him, Lucien nodded to her and Elain returned the gesture with an almost smile, an almost thank you.

Almost because she couldn’t be anymore thankful to him than she was to the people who had put her in the Cauldron. But Lucien didn’t blame her for that.

“Feyre.” A voice croaked from below him, Lucien looked down at Tamlin whose eyes slowly blinked open. He coughed and more blood dripped down his chin, “Feyre… Cauldron-”

“Tam we have to focus on getting out alive.” Lucien told him as he lifted his hand and aimed a blast of fire at a guard who threw one of the Queens to the floor and lifted his sword to her. He fell to the ground a pile of bubbling flesh. Lucien heard retching noises and when he glanced over he saw Elain finally keeling over as she vomited at the sight.

He felt bad for the girl, but had no time to stew over her as Tamlin quickly reefed away from his arms.

“Tamlin-!” Lucien panicked, hands going out to grab him and pull him back.

Tamlin shoved his arms back with an apologetic look before forcing himself up on shaking legs. Lucien got up and went to follow him but slammed into a ward. He cried out as he winced, but it was quickly replaced by terror as he realised Tamlin had warded him back.

‘I’m sorry.’ Tamlin mouthed, before he ran for Amber’s body on the floor.

He knew what he had to do.

If only to get everyone out alive.

Those emeralds, they could absorb power.

Those words Amber had hissed to him in that hallway.

She laughed, “Emeralds hold much power from my family. Ours are enchanted, my dear.”

Enchanted.

Tamlin had been wondering with what, and he finally figured it out.

They could absorb power from others and give that magic to whoever wore them. And Amber had been going to use her emerald to absorb the power of the Cauldron.

The emerald that had been around Feyre’s neck had absorbed the magic that had been keeping her alive, leaving her dead and mortal again. If unleashed, that magic was the equivalent to the most powerful Fae in known history.

What magic did Amber have stored?

Even as Lucien screamed from behind that ward. Tamlin didn’t turn back, but felt as Lucien gave up trying to run and instead focussed his energy on blazing their enemies. Guilt writhed in his core, but he needed to do this and Lucien would try to hold him back.

A guard came out of nowhere and tried to pin him down with his sword. But even if Tamlin was near collapsing he wasn’t a High lord for nothing. Claws shot through his skin almost unannounced and it was nothing to slash his throat and leave him choking on his own blood on the floor.

Tamlin passed the haze of smoke and blood and fire. And finally made it to the darkened corner where Amber was limp on the floor, her breaths shallow but still there, not dead yet. But her face different from the rest of her body, shining faintly, gleaming in the light, as Tamlin put a hand on her forehead, he felt how cold her skin truly was.

Gold.

Her skin had turned to gold.

The Cauldron it seemed, had done a number on her.

Tamlin gave no hesitation as his hands went to her wrist, pulling up her sleeve he saw the emerald bracelet.

Yes.

He went to pull it off, but as he tried to tug it over her hand, her arm shot up.

“Insolent fool.” Amber hissed as she launched up and grabbed his hair, shoving his head to the ground, forehead bashing into the cold stone.

The world went dark for a moment, then he was thrown back into it as she pulled his head back up and went to smash him down again. This time he moved, running on adrenaline and fear.

Twisting back, Tamlin grabbed her robes, then sharply kicked her in the stomach. Amber cried out, but was not quick enough to react as Tamlin sunk his teeth into her throat, ripping with sharpened canines, blood pooled in his mouth and she screamed death in his ear.

“Fuck. You. Witch!” She might as well have been one.

Amber spluttered, vomiting blood, every inch of him burned to finish the job, but as the Cauldron bubbled over once more, spilling more ancient water to the ground, causing more black fire to scorch the ground. He knew he didn’t have much more time.

Grabbing her wrist, it was nothing to snap it. Causing her body to convulse with pain, he let her fall to the ground as he ripped the bracelet off and forced himself back to his feet.

The world faded in and out, Tamlin nearly tripped and fell. He was losing energy quickly. In no time at all he would pass out, and the High lord genuinely didn’t know if he would wake up again.

The closer he got to the Cauldron the more the emerald started to glow, and burn. As it burned into his hands, the pain throbbed through his arms and the added injury ca

used him to nearly lose footing again, it was a miracle he hadn’t fallen again already.

Everything was burning hotter and hotter, the air was suffocating, he could barely see as the room was now little more than black smoke. Another gust of unnatural wind caused by the power of the Cauldron and Tamlin could no longer see.

He coughed and spluttered, but still ran forward, knowing it was somewhere in front of him.

Feeling splashing underfoot, the water that touched his skin burning marks that would scar forever, he knew he was almost there.

Almost there, almost there, almost there-

“There you are, my love.” A cruel male voice hissed as he was grabbed and torn away from the Cauldron.

“No!” Tamlin screamed as he kicked and bucked and thrashed, desperately holding onto the emerald bracelet like a lifeline in a storm.

Dae laughed in his ear as he pulled him back, “I may not have the cursebreakers power, but I will make do with yours.”

Screaming, Dae grabbed the bracelet from his hand and put it to his chest. Whispering something like a spell, a curse or maybe an enchantment, the emerald began to glow, and Tamlin felt himself get weaker and weaker, as the emerald sucked away his magic.

Not now, not when he was so close. They were on the brink of losing or winning.

Losing he realised, they were losing.

Done for.

He went limp as his eyes started to close.

Dae pressed his lips to Tamlin’s ear, cold words seeping into his skin, into his bones, as if they were etched there with a knife, “Did you really think you could outsmart me, Tamlin? Did you think you could win?”

A cruel laugh, “You will see what we do to traitors around here, even if they’re dead.”

The world turned cold once more and Tamlin felt himself slipping in and out of reality, as everything became less and less corporeal.

Dying.

So this was dying.

Why did it have to be so inviting? So loving and tender?

“Please.” He whispered.

Someone.

Anyone.

As he closed his eyes for the final time. Tamlin felt the breath leave his lungs-

“Keep your hands off my mate!”

The black smoke was forced back by magic of another. And there he stood.

Free of the ward which had fallen away as Tamlin’s power was drained. Hands blazing with fire and eyes melted into pools of burning, burning light. Lucien looked like flame personified.

Dae shouted something to his guards, but no one could react quick enough as a blast of fire was shot out at Hybern.

Dae lifted a hand and a ward blocked the attack with ease. He tilted his head back as he laughed in Lucien’s face, “What was that fire lord? At least give me something harder to fight against.”

“He was just the distraction, bitch King.” A delighted voice hissed, before a knife sunk into Dae’s side.

The King screamed as Nesta Archeron stabbed him. Blood poured from his side, but as he raised his hands to grab her neck, he dropped Tamlin to the floor.

It was no matter as Tamlin sprawled, weak and near powerless, against the stone, as he still held the emerald.

Nesta choked as she ripped out the knife, Dae lifted her above the floor with a single hand as she grasped his wrist with both hands, face beginning to turn pink from lack of air.

“Stupid, stupid girl.” He said, as he raised the emerald, it glowed with power as he pressed it to her body, “I wonder what power you took from the Cauldron.”

The knife dropped to the floor, and Tamlin looked up to meet Nesta’s eyes.

Smart, smart girl.

Tamlin grabbed the knife, and in a swift motion stabbed it into Dae’s back.

The High lord barely heard his cry, just watched as his body seized up and released Nesta along with the emerald on instinct.

Even as Dae swung around and grabbed Tamlin, it didn’t matter, because Nesta grabbed the emerald. And threw it through the air.

Dae shouted as he watched the scene unfold, letting Tamlin drop back to the floor and this time he remained there, content with what he had done as he saw what the sisters did.

Elain caught the glowing emerald with a single hand and ran for the Cauldron. Even as Dae bolted after her, he was not near quick enough for Elain, who seemed to disappear behind shimmering air and then reappear by the Cauldron, still running.

As the Cauldron seemed to cry with overflowing magic, Elain held the bracelet over it. Her hands visibly began to burn and blister with the intense heat, but she didn’t back down, didn’t flinch, not even as the burning spread over her arms.

The Cauldron splashed one more time.

And a hand shot up out of it. A pale hand with tattoos covered it, an eye drawn into the centre of her palm. Feyre seized the emerald bracelet as she grabbed the edge of the Cauldron and hauled herself up.

And holding onto her as she was pulled up as well, was Ianthe. Drenched and shivering, but clutching the glowing emerald necklace that Feyre had once had around her neck, to her chest.

The world faded in and out again.

Then hands were on him and Tamlin flinched, but when he looked up, he relaxed. Dark brown eyes bore into his own, red hair falling around them. Lucien’s eyes were flicking all over him. Assessing each part of his body, pulling Tamlin into his arms.

“Hold on.” Lucien begged, “Please hold on, we can win.”

Tamlin smiled weakly at Lucien, as his eyes fell closed.

“I love you.” Tamlin whispered, as all started to drown out.

The last he heard was a petrified scream from his mate as he descended into darkness.

As her hand closed around that bracelet, Feyre felt power flood her veins. Power that was not hers but hers to use so long as the emerald was in her hands. And with Ianthe touching her, Feyre’s emerald in her hands. They were a combined magic. For a moment in time, whilst still in the Cauldron, they were the magic of the Cauldron.

Eyes blazing and bodies alight with magic, Feyre lifted her hand and closed her eyes.

Black, she pulled out the power. Commanding it. Breathe in. She told it to obey.

With the help of the emeralds magic, the power it had sucked it, like a breath held in still lungs, it all blended and merged together. No longer chaotic and refusing to work with each other. Rather it moved like water commanded by the Summer Court magic. Flowing and controlled.

Feyre grinned with bone white teeth as she lifted a clawed hand, and squeezed her fingers into a fist.

“Let all Hell break loose.” She whispered.

And break loose it did.

The soldiers screamed as they were burned with black fire. Their bodies dissolving into ash. Even as the Mortal Queens seemed horrified at the blinding figures emerging from the Cauldron, they ran to continue their killing sweep. Finishing off the last of the soldiers.

Then Feyre turned her attention to Hybern, who lifted his head and grinned. Even as he stumbled to one knee, clutching the wound at his side, as his shirt darkened with blood.

Try me, was what that grin said to her.

Feyre gritted her teeth. Twisting her hand as she forced the magic to move with her. The world around her darkening. The room filling, as light exploded from her form. Like a star in blackened night, she was the magic she commanded.

But as magic was forced onto the King of Hybern, she felt it… start to disappear, rather than make contact with the target.

Oh.

Fuck.

Hybern grinned as he lifted a large emerald amulet, a wall of protecting, keeping his body safe from the attack but absorbing the power.

“No.” Ianthe shook from beside her.

He had an emerald.

“No!” Ianthe screamed, she shoved Feyre out of the Cauldron and fell out with her. Stopping the onslaught of magic so he would gain no more.

Sprawled against the stone cold floors, Feyre coughed and spluttered. Feeling herself weakening as the power she had been controlling calmed again.

Now out of the Cauldron, it stopped its bubbling and settled down.

The smoke still drifted around the room, but now it was silent. As the guard had been killed, and there was no one left to fight.

Stepping out from the haze of black smoke, Hybern grinned at her, his wounds healing over from the magic she had just handed to him on a silver platter.

“You should have stayed in the Cauldron, little girl.” He grinned as he lifted the amulet, it glowed with power and reflected in his cold, cruel eyes.

His hand buried in her hair and forced her neck back, as he placed the emerald on her skin, leaving a branding mark, “Let’s see what power we can steal from you.”

Feyre screamed and writhed as once again she felt power torn from deep within her flesh, the very bindings keeping her together.

But unlike last time, Hybern was cut short.

As someone from behind him screamed, “Don’t you dare ever touch my sister!”

And Elain tackled Hybern to the floor, releasing Feyre from the grip of the emerald.

Elain’s small, untrained body was no match for the King but she fought valiantly anyway. With a scream, she kicked and punched, but not before her hands grabbed the amulet and ripped it free of his grasp. She tossed it to Feyre, and shouted “Run!”

“But-” Big, heavy tears fell down her face as Feyre watched her older sister fight.

“Run Feyre! Get out!” Elain cried as Hybern grabbed her hair and slammed her into the floor.

Feyre didn’t run.

But Ianthe did. She grabbed Feyre by her collar, and in what must have been adrenaline filled strength, dragged her up and forced her to run.

The smoke began to clear. And Feyre finally saw the true extent of the damage.

Rhysand was on the floor, her eyes went to him first. Shaking and gritting his teeth, coughing up blood as he tried to stand on two feet. She screamed when she looked closer as she barrelled forward, and saw that one wing had been completely torn off.

Feyre fell to his side but as she cried, “Rhys-”

He shook his hand and grabbed her arm forcing her to look to the middle of the throne room.

“Not me.” He croaked out, “Get him first.”

“Get who-” Feyre cut herself off with a gasp.

She saw them. She saw them and her chest caved in.

Tamlin lying limp across the floor, his body not moving, his chest not rising or falling. And Lucien hunched over his form, crying and pleading into his neck to come back.

“No.” Feyre whispered.

“Everyone evacuate!” The eldest of the Mortal Queens screamed.

At that same moment, Hybern was bolting for Feyre, eyes blazing with rage. And Elain a bloodied form on the floor behind him, whimpering with pain and just barely holding on.

Ianthe laid eyes on her. And she screamed a scream so agony filled that Feyre could have sworn the room shook.

Abandoning everything else. Ianthe shot Feyre one last look, full of apologies unspoken, before she ran for Elain. Falling to her knees by her side.

Hybern ignored the weeping Priestess as he headed for Feyre, “You think you can get away.”

“Oh I think she can.” Rhysand croaked out.

The King’s eyes went wide as a rage-filled grin split his face, “No she won’t.”

“Yes, she will.” A new voice echoed through the room. One like fire and wind. Bursting through and adding a whole new level of danger.

Eris grinned from the doorways, “Hope I’m not too late to the party.”

“Just in time.” Rhysand smirked.

Hybern laid eyes on the Autumn Heir and snarled, “I suggest running now, Autumn bitch.”

“Great fun, Hybern, just like your General was.” Eris drawled as he drew up fire to his hands. Preparing to launch his own attack.

Hybern grinned, “Let's see what the pretty Autumn boy can do then.”

Eris’s eyes were seething when he lifted his hand and fire descended on Hybern.

Shit.

Everything ached, but she had no time to focus in on it. Not as the room was screaming once more, not as they were being thrown into battle again. Elain couldn’t see well at all. Black edging in and out of her vision, she thought she might collapse at any second.

But slowly, very slowly, she felt the pain of her body disappearing and when she forced her eyes to open properly. She saw her.

And her chest tightened until her lungs couldn’t open or close.

The Priestess, Ianthe they had called her, was kneeling over her. The emerald that had been on Feyre’s neck being pressed into Elain’s chest by her hands, she was whispering a prayer of some kind, forcing the power residing in the stone to heal her.

Elain finally breathed in deep enough that she could move again.

A sob tore through Ianthe’s chest as relief flooded her.

“You’re alive.” Ianthe whispered.

“We won’t be for long.” Elain whispered back as she pointed to the fire show going on before them.

A Fae with short red hair and burning eyes, that looked similar to the red-headed male they had called Lucien, was summoning fire down on the King of Hybern. But nothing could harm him, as Ianthe’s mother, the older Priestess, had quickly rushed in front of him and held up her hands.

Whatever power she had been given from the Cauldron when her head had been under, it allowed her to create a ward strong enough to withstand the onslaught of fire from the Autumn male. But forced them to remain standing still so the others around them could rush out of the throne room.

Elain watched as Feyre met her eyes. Elain nodded and Feyre mouthed ‘I’m sorry’.

Before helping to pick up her mate and run from the throne room. Followed by the two winged warriors and the blonde woman.

Leaving the last of those there.

“We need to get them out of here.” Ianthe said, pointing to the middle of the throne room.

Dead.

She was dead. The fair fae, who had been called Tamlin, was dead in the arms of Lucien. Her blonde hair matted with blood, her dress torn and ruined. Elain gasped at the sight of her swollen womb, the child inside it either dead or dying.

And Lucien wracked with grief, his power and energy drained, was collapsed over her. Begging and praying for a miracle.

They needed to get out.

From across the room, Elain saw another lump of fallen flesh. Nesta coughed and vomited, before forcing herself to her knees, surveying the damage with wide eyes.

Then she looked to Elain. And Elain shuddered at what she saw.

Her sister’s grey eyes, now burning, burning silver.

Nesta looked back at Hybern, and the male forcing fire on them. Starting to weaken.

They had to act right now.

“Go!” Elain shouted.

“But-” Nesta started, moving to go towards Elain.

Elain tried to get to her feet but she fell again. Dizzy and unable to stand up properly, the feeling of her body having been through so much, the emeralds could only undo so much damage.

Ianthe was the one to make the decision, as she tossed Nesta the emerald and screamed, “Go!”

Nesta, for the first time, sobbed, wet tears falling down her face. But she nodded and ran.

But not for the doors.

For Lucien and Tamlin.

She grabbed Lucien by his shoulders and screamed, “Grab her and get up!”

Lucien’s eyes went wide, but as if his body was not his own anymore, he obeyed and scooped Tamlin into his arms. Forcing himself up on shaking legs that were even worse that Elain’s. And went for the door.

Thank God.

Elain’s head tipped back as darkness engulfed her.

Nesta was running on burning, burning legs. Every muscle was rigid, she felt everything and nothing at the same time and it was torment.

But nothing could stop her as she forced herself forward and forward. The fox haired male beside her, cheeks tear-stained and cradling the body of his dead mate.

She wanted to look behind her, just to catch a glimpse of her sister, but knew she couldn’t, that she had to get out now. She had the emerald and they needed that to remain out of Hybern’s hands.

The exit was right before them. They were almost out.

A little more.

Lucien passed through the doors and as soon as he was gone from the spelled room, he disappeared into thin air, along with his dead mate.

And Nesta.

Nesta was grabbed and thrown to the floor.

The Fire Fae that had been pelting down flame on Hybern and the Priestess that served him had collapsed in a heap on the ground. Fully spent, with barely enough energy to breathe.

“No!”

She had been so close.

“You stupid whore!” Hybern screamed in her ear as he went to grab the emerald.

“Fuck you!” Nesta screamed as she fisted the emerald, and it burned in her hands.

Then something rage-filled, and hot rolled through her core in dark waves.

And Hybern was screaming and Nesta’s vision was white with flames.

Flames that came from her own hands.

Shit.

Silver, it filled the room, dancing along the stone floor. Burning the King and his Priestess, sending them sprawling back against the scorching stone.

She had no time to revel in her own victory, Nesta clutched the emerald which absorbed the power she could not control herself. Running for the unconscious Fae male.

In a moment of pure fear, strength came to her. She grabbed him and slung his arm around her shoulder, running from the throne room.

“Wake up!” She begged, still he remained limp.

With no other choice, or place to run to as she left the spelled throne room. Heading new guards, the armies rushing into the castle. Filling the place with shouting and the sound of steel being unsheathed.

Nesta put the emerald to the male’s chest like she had witnessed happen and forced magic through it.

“Come on!” She shouted.

The emerald pulsed, the sound of footsteps quicked.

“Please, please, please.” She begged.

He gasped in air as his eyes opened. The green a scorching liquid amber colour.

“Well hello.” He rasped out.

“Get us out of here!” Nesta ordered.

As he looked around and saw new soldiers beginning to rush in through the hallways. He nodded, “Of course, my Lady.”

And they were gone.

When Elain woke up, it was because chains were being wrapped around her body and she was being hauled to her feet.

Head spinning she didn’t know where to look. Maybe Hybern’s half scorched face, maybe Ianthe’s mother, whom she quickly realised was called Amber, when a guard referred to her as such, and her golden face.

Ianthe was silent as she too was put in chains.

Elain didn’t know how long it had been, but it must have been not more than a few minutes, as the bodies of soldiers were still out. And the mess of the battle was still visible.

“Dungeons.” Hybern hissed.

Amber grinned, “With pleasure.

They were walked down dark tunnels that only got darker. The cold seeping in through the walls and into Elain’s skin. She kept her head low but watched Ianthe in front of her through her eyelashes.

Eventually they were led to a large metal door, it swung open with a loud creak and inside could be seen two male guards.

Ianthe stopped in place, as if waiting for Elain to be put in first. But then, Amber tsked, her grin widening as she said, “You’ll go in first, Ianthe.”

There was a moment of silence as the guards then forced the Priestess forward.

In a heartbeat.

Ianthe screamed. A raw sound that tore her throat, nose bleeding from the severity of her crying out. The red streamed down her face as her eyes too began to bleed from her never ending sobbing.

She screamed to the roof, neck stretching up and head fallen back. The Priestess writhed against her chains, clinging to a threshold, as the guards tried to drag her into a room, into a dungeon.

Elain was behind her. Watching with teary eyes of her own, as the robed female scabbed at threshold. Her arms strained, hands beginning to tear.

“Please.” Elain flinched at the tearing screech in her voice.

“This is your punishment,” Amber said to her daughter, as she smiled from behind them, “Your vows were forsaken when you betrayed me.”

Ianthe let out a gut-wrenching cry as she turned her eyes to the sky, “Mother of creation and Cauldron-”

“Do not beg.” Ianthe’s mother crooned. “The Goddess will not save you.”

Ianthe was sobbing, her cries making her voice shake and her prayer barely coherent, “I have been your loyal subject. Save me from staining. Save me please.”

“You defile us by your unworthy prayers.” Amber spat, “You will break your vows today by entering under a roof with only a male. The Mother will punish you with eternal flame and suffering. You are no Priestess.”

“Save me please, Mother, I have done nothing wrong.” Ianthe shrieked, as her fingers began to slip and the guards dragged her inside-

Elain leapt forward, her sudden, sharp burst of movement shocking the guards enough that she slipped from their grip.

She hit the ground, and felt her arm shatter as it hit the floor. But she managed to dive into the room. Hitting a set of stairs and screaming as she almost tumbled down them, only just digging her nails into the wall and stopping herself from falling.

Elain Archeron managed to get through the threshold just before Ianthe was thrown in.

There was a terrifying shriek of anger from the Lady Amber outside, but Ianthe collapsed to the floor, face smeared with her own blood, tears and mucus. Her breaths were too quick and shallow, hyperventilating as she cried more on the floor.

Elain went forward quickly. Her arm screaming with fiery pain but the adrenaline was enough for her to ignore it.

With one arm, Elain managed to pull a sobbing Ianthe into her arms, holding her close.

“You are okay.” Elain whispered, “You did not break your vows.”

Ianthe opened her mouth to say something, but it was cut off by gasping that was getting quicker and quicker as panic was still flooding through her. Elain could feel tears in her own eyes, but she hugged the female tighter, “Priestess.” She whispered, “Your Goddess had mercy, Priestess, she has not forsaken you.”

“My merciful Goddess.” Ianthe whispered into Elain’s skin.

Elain ignored how that declaration felt more like it was directed at Elain herself rather than unseeable God.

I’ll give over my soul. I sacrifice myself. I’ll gut myself on your alter. I throw my body into the sea. Just please, Mother, bring him back to me.

Lucien recited his prayers over and over, and over, and over. Yet Tamlin’s body in his arms remained limp. Unmoving, not breathing.

Water from the beach lapped against his knees. Causing his body to shiver from the cold. The crying of birds watching them was the only noise for a while. Lucien cried into Tamlin’s hair. One hand wrapped around him and the other going to his womb. Resting on the child they would have had, the baby they could have been blessed with.

What would they have looked like?

Blonde hair, blue eyes? Brown hair, green eyes?

A little girl? A little boy?

Lucien cried harder into Tamlin’s hair.

The mating bond, it had snapped into place as Lucien had watched Hybern lay his hands down upon him. The fire that had leapt up in him had been nothing compared to the hatred and anger he had been engulfed with.

But as soon as he was given it, it was ripped away.

Sobbing, barely coherent, barely even there at all. Lucien looked at that lovely face. Blood drying on the corner of his plush lips. Skin still so divine, even if paler now. Lucien threaded his hands through Tamlin’s hair and untangled some of the knots gently.

Lucien pressed his lips to Tamlin’s cheek, then the other, then his temple, then his nose, then the crown of his head. Like it was just another lazy morning in bed, like Tamlin would laugh as he woke. Like Tamlin would open his big green eyes and smile up at him once again.

Please bring him back, please I can’t live without him.

Please.

Please, anybody.

Lucien’s chest heaved and shuddered again as a cry was torn from his again. Rocking his love, his High lord, his Tamlin, back and forth. Like he was just sleeping, just asleep, nothing more. He would awaken. He always did.

“Lucien.” A cracked voice said from behind him. Lucien snapped his eyes up and he saw her.

Feyre, with her beautiful face, scattered with freckles, her brown hair stuck and clinging to her face.

“This is your fault!” Lucien screamed with every last bit of strength in his weak body.

Her eyes went wide and her face scrunched up as she fell to her knees crying.

“If you had just come back, he wouldn’t be dead.” Lucien cried, his words near incoherent from his sobbing.

But even through his cries and screams. Even through Feyre’s relentless sobs.

Tamlin stayed still.

Fully and utterly dead.

__________________________________________________

Whoops I ended it on an angsty note.

I swear Tamlin lives; I promise the story doesn't end here.

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