#He’s trapped but in a way he has the power. He’s got them wrapped around his finger

[zappedbyzabka]

[on-leatheredwings]

Remedial Lesson (18+)

Yandere ! Dick Grayson x (AFAB) Reader

> romantic, 18+ > request: non-con for dick grayson? maybe him abusing his power as the titans leader to be a little flirty/touchy with reader before tricking them into letting him inside of their bedroom under false pretenses? > tw/cw: explicit non-con, baby trapping, yandere behaviors, abusive power dynamic > a/n: i just love writing a manipulative dick! And i love writing a manipulative Dick! (ba dum tss) emphasis on non-con in tw's, its not dubcon! > word count: 2545

Stupid, stupid. 

At that thought, the logical, respectable half of your brain admonishes you.

You aren’t stupid. You just were unlucky, you correct softly. You’re plenty capable, and an asset to the team. It could’ve happened to anybody. 

Recently, you’ve been trying to stop your self-deprecation, in an attempt to bolster your self-esteem, solidify your confidence, and quell negative self-talk. 

… Therapist’s orders. 

Being the ever-so-capable superhero you are, today you got blasted by some hypnotizing ray. And then promptly went on a murderous rampage on your teammates. 

You don’t recall anything that happened, only waking up from what felt like a deep sleep to the outstretched hand of Nightwing. Koriand’r told you on the way back to the Tower that you almost killed him – making you stiffen in horror. You almost killed him, and apparently the only thing he had been worried about was you. At the thought, you feel heat swarm in your cheeks.

Despite not having any powers, Nightwing is plenty formidable. You were in complete awe of him today; the way he moves is so effortless, and he’s not even a metahuman. 

You clench your fist with determination. You aren’t a metahuman either, but you pale in comparison to him. You want to be just as formidable as he is. Be just as deserving of the title “Titan.”

On the subject of Nightwing, your mind wanders… He had been quite… hands-on with you today. Shaking you by the shoulders, hand on your cheeks lightly slapping you awake. Encouraging you back to your feet, hand brushing your waist. When the battle was over, you nearly collapsed to your knees, spent. But he caught you, appearing from out of nowhere. 

“Easy,” he had said into your ear, which made you shiver. 

You sigh. 

Okay. So maybe you had a crush. It wasn’t like you were going to do anything about it. He’s your boss – the Titans’ illustrious captain. He was simply helping you along, watching out for a teammate. Mentoring a new hero. After all, you are the Titans’ newest recruit, a post that months later still feels unreal. 

You walk amongst them through the doors of the Tower, conversation and chatter flowing around you. You don’t join in, still ashamed from today’s blunder. How many of them had you tried to hurt? The team has just finished a mission, and it seems a pizza party is in order for tonight. You smile gingerly as Garfield announces vibrantly that you’re invited. (A no-brainer to anyone else since you literally live here, but to you, it means a lot.)

Your secret identity known to the team, you dismiss yourself to change out of your suit and into your civvies. “Hurry back soon,” they say, and the sentiment warms you. You indeed jog to your bedroom, eager to return to the festivities. You’re one of them. You’re really one of them.

You slip into your room, tossing the door back without a second glance. Your fingers pull on the bottom of your shirt. You’re about to peel off your suit, when you hear a shallow thud. That was not the sound your door makes once it's been closed. 

You whip around, and see–

“Nightwing?”

Your leader stands in the doorway, foot acting as an impromptu door stopper. You take him in. His hair cascades in gentle dark waves, curling by the ears. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his suit was painted on. Despite being lightly armored and fortified, it stretches across his body like plastic wrap. You could trace every muscle under his skin– okay, relax. Christ. 

Hey, you think back, mentally wagging a finger. No thought policing.

At the sound of your name being called, you realize you’ve been gawking like an idiot while he stands in your doorframe. You straighten.

“Oh! Y-yes!?”

“Can I come in?” he asks. You nod so fervently that your head is a blur of color.

Nightwing does so, the slightest amicable smile on his lips. Around friends and allies, it seems to be a default expression of his. Still, you’ve spent enough time around him to note that he looks quite… serious. Concerned.

“... Is there anything I can do for you?” you ask, eager to rectify whatever was upsetting him. You so want to impress him. Badly. 

He holds up his hands, as if saying, At ease. “All you can do for me is let me know that you’re alright.”  

You offer a pitiable smile, warmth swirling in your chest. “I am. Thanks for asking– and I’m so, so sorry about today–” 

Nightwing waves you off, approaching you. He places a hand on your shoulder in consolation. “Hey, it could’ve–”

“--Happened to anyone,” you finish, nodding. You look down.

“... Although I admit…” 

Your head snaps to attention. “Yes?”

Nightwing then sighs. His gaze falls to the floor. He tuts and shakes his head as if troubled. You swallow drily. So focused on him, you don’t even notice the circles his thumb kneads into your shoulder.

“Your performance today.” Your throat clenches. Nightwing’s gaze returns to you, hard and critical behind his mask. “Well, frankly, it left much to be desired.”

Your heart plummets, hitting the pit of your stomach. You’re mortified. You haven’t been meeting his standards? Did everyone else think that? Were their hopes misplaced? You feel the thrum of anxiety jitter underneath your skin as you bow your head. Your gaze now captures the two feet keeping you upright.

There’s a stroke to your cheek, to which you flinch. 

“Hey.” Your head whips up. You look up at him, into white lenses that have the ghost of his eyes behind them. “It’s okay. I’m here to help.” 

His face is gentle and consoling. You exhale. He’s just being honest, you think. He’s just being honest. Nothing wrong with some constructive criticism. You let him sit you down on the edge of your bed.

“H-how can I improve?” you ask, voice croaking. “I know I fucked up today. I should’ve seen it coming. I’m so, so sorry if I hurt you or anybody else–”

“Hey,” he says again, soft and delicately. “Listen, it’s alright. I’m going to teach you some things. How to resist better.” 

You nod, slowly, anticipating some verbal advice. 

You watch him with anticipation, giving him your full attention– and then, he kneels before you. You instinctively feel alarm at the increased proximity, before you swat it down. His head is level with your lower abdomen, uncomfortably close to your lap. You don’t have to make it weird, you scoff at yourself.

“... Y-yes?” you say. 

“I’m going to take off your pants.”

You stare. 

Did you hear him right? Was he… joking? 

Clearly not. His hands land on your thighs, effectively drawing a sharp inhale from you. You both lock eyes. His face still holds the same vaguely amicable grin, but it’s now a leer. Your heart quickens. You don’t feel right. 

“... Nightwing?” you ask, feeling suddenly quite small. You don’t know what’s happening. What’s going on?

“You need to be able to withstand a lot more than you currently can,” he continues, talking as casually as if you’re speaking about the weather. You are shell shocked, frozen into submission at the touch of his hands pulling your pants off. His nails scrape along your skin when he has to use more force to jerk it free from under your ass, to which you still don’t react. 

What’s going on? your mind cycles on loop.

It’s when he pulls down your underwear you finally jolt, clumsily kicking at him. Which he catches of course. What a poor move, because your kick only enables him to spread your legs at his leisure. Heat rages to your cheeks. Though not entirely off, your panties do a pitiful job of concealing the tangle of hair nestled between your thighs. The mortification racing through your bloodstream makes you croak. It makes you keep throwing kicks and swats and punches until Nightwing is forced to sandwich your body against your bed. He pins your hands down to the bed, and you know by now it’s a lost cause.

“Help–” you begin, but Nightwing adeptly slips your wrists into one hand, and uses the other to silence you. He smiles bashfully, as if he hadn’t just stripped you without consent or fanfare.

“This is all for you–” At the furrow of your brow, he says, indignantly, “I’m serious! How easy was it for that guy to hypnotize you today?” The question throws a knife into your heart. “Or when last week you were apprehended? Or the week before that?” Each instance makes the burning building in your eyes more and more unbearable. He isn't wrong. Your tears build. He’s not wrong.

Nightwing slowly removes his hand off your mouth, anticipating another yell. You squirm, but don’t make a sound aside from shuddering breaths. 

His grin loses all its flirty qualities. It widens, self-satisfied and predatory. With his teeth he peels off his free hand’s glove, slides it down your torso to the apex between your thighs.

“No,” you whimper, to which he hushes you, lips by the shell of your ear for the second time today. His fingers explore without warning, tracing your labia and brushing against your clit. You gasp, but you don’t scream.

Nightwing tuts, shaking his head. “You’re already wet, I see.”

You tremble, filled with humiliation. “No, I’m not.” One digit delves deeper, experimentally. You grit your teeth.

“You want this,” he says, and you fill with dread at the condescension of his tone. Like this was expected. Like you had so much to learn.

“No, I don’t.”

“But you do. You’re telling me you do.” His fingers – the pair that when gloved, there would’ve been two cobalt blue stripes – scissor inside you, and your breath hitches. “Your body’s telling me you do.”

“I-it’s a biological response.” At the feeling of his fingers swimming inside you, you whimper. This is insane. It can’t be happening. Yet you jerk and twitch with each of his motions. “P-please, I would… Please stop, now…” He doesn’t, pumping his sinful fingers into you. Teases you by dragging them out. 

You throw your head back, biting your lip. He’s panting into your ear – you’d think you were doing something to him, the way he sounds. Your overhead light beams into your gaze, dizzying. It burns, so you close your eyes, hoping this is some humiliating dream. This can’t be real. This can’t be real.

“So you say– Hey.” He nips at your ear and you stir. “Look at me. Look at me.” You do so, and find him staring up at you. His mask is not enough of a barrier. Even if you can’t see them, you know his eyes are scraping over you, peeling your skin back, seeing you whole. Your embarrassment, your weakness, your shame.

“Please stop,” you whisper, eyes stinging. Your thighs tremble, to which he places his free hand on them to steady them. This is wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this. You’re teammates. He’s your captain. 

Nightwing sighs, looking disappointed. Oh no, your mind spirals. He’s disappointed in you. Despite you being desperately uncomfortable– violated– he’s at fault– he’s the one doing something wrong– 

Despite your logical brain asserting itself, you are flooded with a tidal wave of anxiety.

“That’s not good, you know,” he says, and he looks mournful. “Whining is just what they want to hear.” His fingers disappear from your body, and their absence leaves you in shock. Wanting.

Wanting? Do I want this? you think.

Nightwing is reaching behind his neck, tugging and pulling. Before you know it, he’s bare-chested. You don’t marvel at his body, like you would have just an hour before.

“Bad guys aren’t going to listen to you just because you beg.” A tear slips down your face. You swipe at it, but not quick enough for him to miss it. “And they won’t care if you cry… Maybe you don’t need to learn how to resist. You’re not cut out for it, I think,” he tsks. “Maybe, you need to learn how to endure.”

You feel something blunt and wet prod at your entrance, and that’s when the last remains of your primal fight-or-flight instincts kick in. You start to squirm, back arching off the bed. “Please, please, please– no– stop– I don’t want this–” His hand clamps down on your mouth once more, and hard. You push him with all your might, but it’s not enough. You aren’t strong enough.

“Just the tip,” he whispers in the shell of your ear. Just the tip. You can handle at least that. Just the tip.

He repeats it for himself, not you. This you realize as he enters anyway, despite your teary complaints. It is not just the tip; he bottoms out. “You can handle this. I know you can.” 

You’re so confused. You’re so, so confused. You merely clench your eyes shut, nodding at his encouragement. You don’t know what else to do. 

“I know, I know,” he comforts. “Don’t worry, you’re taking it really well. You take it perfect.” You cling onto his words of reassurance, no matter how twisted it feels. It’s the only anchor you’ve got. Each thrust makes you see stars behind your eyelids, bed rocking. The ding of your bed frame hitting the wall is enough to make you finally quiet. The last thing you want is for the others to hear. To walk in and see you utterly helpless. Powerless. Incapable. 

You swallow your sobs, but let the tears stream freely.

“It’d be better if I just got you pregnant right now.”

You feel a cold knife of fear pierce your chest. He can’t. He can’t. You wouldn’t be able to be a hero anymore. 

“You’d be better suited for it,” he hums. You can tell he’s near, his hips snapping more frenetically, his words cut off with his own moans. You’re ashamed to admit moans of your own may have slipped out. You don’t even bother resisting at this point, hoping that if not your strength, then your body can satisfy him. Hoping at least that your body will meet his standards.

“Fuck,” you hear, and not a moment later you feel him shoot ropes of cum into your cunt. You can feel both his cock that throbs with each spray and the warmth spreading into you. You don’t know why you’re shocked at the sensation – it wasn’t as if he seemed keen on using a condom. Nightwing’s hands release you, having gripped you so hard you’re sure you’ve bruised.

He dots sweet kisses along your neck, your collarbone, your cheek. It should be all very sweet, but you can't ignore the poison of the circumstance. “You did so good, you did perfect,” are amongst the accolades he whispers into your clammy skin. You nod weakly, letting him kiss your tears away.

Nightwing dives in for a kiss, desperate to take even more than you’ve already given him. You return it, heart palpitating. You bat away the negative thoughts that threaten to swarm your mind whole. No more negative self-talk, after all. No self-deprecation. It’s okay. You took it well. You endured, like he said.

You did perfect.

[triptuckers]

discoveries - remy lebeau

Request: yes! "Your writing for gambit is so good omg 😭❤️ single handedly feeding me rn!! I was wondering if you would write Gambit with a S/O that has one huge tattoo? Lol I got a sea serpent tattoo last year that crawls up from my arm and onto my chest and it’s my absolute pride and joy!! I’m so curious what Remy’s reaction would be to that 👁️👁️" Pairing: remy lebeau x x-men!reader (reader has the ability to manipulate plants and tree roots and use them as shields/weapons) Summary: when you get hurt during a mission and remy takes care of you, he finds out about your tattoo Warnings: mentions of fighting, violence, injuries (reader gets injured), blood, dizziness, tattoo's, angst Word count: 1.6K A/N: anon getting this request made me realise yes I do need a new tattoo (I'm literally broke and unemployed). enjoy!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

being part of the x-men meant you always had to be ready. even if you were spending a cozy afternoon with remy in one of the gardens of the mansion. apparently the newest set of power hungry villains didn't care if you had the day off.

it's how you find yourself - after complaining about it a great deal - strapped in on the jet less than twenty minutes after you got all but hauled inside the mansion by beast.

remy is sitting next to you, long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle, hands tucked behind his head.

'don't fret, chéri, we'll be in and out in no time.' says remy.

even though you had been dating for a short while now, it still made you blush when remy called you nicknames. and he knew it. he's smirking at you now, noticing your reddened cheeks.

'that's what you said last time, and we were there for an entire day cleaning up messes.' you say.

remy merely shrugs. 'I've got a good feeling about this one.'

'alright you lovebirds, can we focus? I'm taking her down.' says scott from the front of the jet.

once you all get out of the jet to assess the situation, you can feel remy's presence next to you.

'bet I can take out more than you, chéri.' he whispers in your ear.

'you're on.' you say.

you and remy are instructed by scott to take care of the villains on the ground while the others get the people trapped in the surrounding buildings to safety.

as the team splits up, you and remy run towards a small group of people who randomly shooting around, creating panic and chaos.

at first, you thought they were just low level criminals, but then you notice the kinds of guns they carry.

'remy!' you yell.

you're quick to manipulate the soil, making tree roots shoot up from the ground that knock remy out of the way but gently lower him to the ground behind a few upturned cars.

'that's sentinel tech.' you say once you catch up with him.

'merde.' he says, shaking his head. 'how do they always get their hands on that? ready to take them out?'

'let's go.' you say, flexing your fingers and making the soil beneath your feet rumble slightly.

remy winks at you before taking off.

the two of you work together to get take out the group currently focusing all of their fire on you. as long as the others got all the people in the buildings to safety, they could point their guns at you all they like.

you and remy move quickly through and around the group with practised ease. while you're focusing on the fight, you can hear remy make witty remarks.

'hey, chéri!' you hear him call.

as you crush a guy's windpipe by wrapping roots around his neck, you quickly shoot him a glance.

'I'm up to seven!' he says, holding up one of his cards, which is a seven of hearts.

'get your head out of the counting, remy!' you say, dodging a blow from your next attacker.

'you got less than gambit?' you hear him say somewhere in the distance.

'I got nine!' you shout.

you hear him curse, then you hear two short explosions before remy appears in your line of sight with a smirk on his face, holding up a card with the number ten on it.

'showoff.' you say, but you smile.

remy winks at you before taking off after a few men who had the sense to run away.

as you follow him, you fail to notice one guy wasn't entirely knocked out. you're too late to notice him. he quickly gets close to you and slashes a knife through your side.

you yell out in pain as your knees threaten to give up on you. you quickly turn around to throw a sharp wooden dagger at him, but your aim is off.

from the corner of you eye, you see a flash of purple and moments later a sharp card hits your attacker square in the forehead, making him crumble to the ground.

you distantly hear someone yell your name as you sway on your feet, a wave of dizziness taking over you. you blindly reach out for something to steady you when your hands find something warm and solid.

remy has caught you in his arms. he's worriedly looking down at you, then notices your side.

'oh, merde...' he says, gently prodding your side.

you suck in a sharp breath at the wave of pain spreading from your ribs. as a reflex, you tighten your hold on remy's arms.

'j'excuse, chéri, hold on, gambit's gonna take care of you.' he says.

before he can say anything else, a shot narrowly misses him. remy quickly throws a handful of cards with his free hand that isn't holding you up.

'cyclops!' he yells. 'I need backup! we got one man down!'

you can hear remy's voice both above you and in your earpiece. you hear scott's answer as remy reaches down to pick you up.

as another sharp burst of pain shoots through your body, you glance down. one of your sides is soaked in blood. the knife had ripped a large gash through your uniform.

you frown at it, you loved your uniform. and now it's ruined. you look up to remy, who is holding you into his arms as he runs toward the jet. he's talking to you, but it's like you can't understand him. you close your eyes to fight off the dizziness, but remy lightly taps your cheek.

'non, mon amour, you can't close your eyes. keep them open for remy, yeah?' he says.

mon amour. that's a new one.

you weakly nod at him.

you see a flash of red as scott runs past you.

'beast!' says remy. 'we got medical supplies on the yet?'

'yes!' comes beast's instant reply. you reach up to take the earpiece out, the sound is too loud and harsh to bear. you're so comfortable in remy's arms, who is trying the best to keep you steady as he runs to the jet as fast as he can.

you hear remy talk to beast as he enters the jet and gently lowers you onto a chair. he reclines the chair so you're more comfortable.

'I'll be right back, chéri.' he says with a kiss to your forehead.

you can hear him rummage around somewhere behind you as you're fighting to keep your eyes open. the pain in your side had shrunk down to a dull ache, but you could tell blood was still coming out of the wound.

remy comes back, carrying a bag of medical supplies with him.

'this ain't gonna be pretty.' he says as he moves closer to you.

'just get it over with.' you say.

'you just keep talking to me, yeah?'

'sure.'

'bien. here we go.'

remy reaches into the bag and gets out a pair of fabric scissors. he hesitates briefly. the two of you hadn't been dating for very long. not much had happened besides the occasional make out session. you'd seen remy without a shirt when you would play basketball with the team, but remy had never seen you without a shirt. suddenly it all felt too quickly.

'it's okay, love.' you say, bringing him out of his hesitation. 'I trust you.'

he nods at you before carefully cutting your uniform off of you. when he has cut away the biggest part of the top half of your uniform, his eyes fall to your body.

not the wound, but rather the other side.

a tattooed serpent that slithers from your rib cage over your shoulder and disappears into the sleeve remy hadn't cut off.

instead of checking the wound, remy trails his fingers softly over your tattoo. you watch as his eyes follow the pattern of ink. you would have thought you were shy and nervous to be sitting here shirtless with remy. but you loved your tattoo. the design is beautiful, and it means a lot to you.

'so that's what you've been hiding beneath that suit of yours.' he murmurs.

'you like it?' you say softly. while you loved your tattoo, there had been different kinds of reactions from people who saw it.

'chéri... it's beautiful.' says remy, soothing your worries.

'I almost feel bad for having to cover it up.' says remy, reaching out to get out the medical supplies.

'don't worry, you'll get to look at it plenty after I've healed.' you say.

'really?'

'yeah, of course. if you'd still have me with a giant scar on my side.'

'I'm with you til the end, mon amour. now let's get you fixed up.' says remy, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. 'in the meantime, tell me the story how you got it, hm? need you to stay awake for me.'

'alright.' you say softly, and you start telling the story of how you got the tattoo as remy works on cleaning the wound and bandaging you up.

when he wraps the binding around your chest, you can tell his hands linger on your tattoo, tracing its outlines.

you close your eyes and lean back as remy secures the bandage. you feel how he lightly taps your forehead, then presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

'all done, chéri.' he says.

his voice sounds close, and when you open your eyes, you see his face right in front of you.

you smile tiredly at him. 'can I sleep now?'

remy smiles back at you. 'oui, mon amour.'

'stay here?'

'always.'

you feel how remy gently traces your tattoo again as you drift off to sleep.

A/N:thanks for reading! everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. please do not copy, translate, plagiarise or repost my work! some of these are requested by other people and I spend a lot of time and effort on my works <3 much love, marit

[gyuzgrl]

tease ||yjh||

summary- Jeonghan's a tease. You're delighted to find that this extends to the bedroom.

wc- 4k

Blue hues of light lit up the living room- spilling out of the blaring television and onto your faces. It was loud. It was bright. But it did nothing to distract you from the way your boyfriend toyed with you while he watched.

You and Jeonghan had only just started dating- it had been about three weeks- and nothing had moved past innocent make-out sessions yet. There was no rush, he told you, he was willing to wait until you were comfortable enough.

'no one has ever survived my plain rice original attack- take this!'

'HA! you underestimate m- AHHHHH I'M HUNGRY'

It was a silly movie. On any other day, you would've loved it. You would've been glued to the screen, shoveling popcorn into your mouth as you laughed away.

But right now? Right now you were focused on one thing and one thing only; the way Jeonghan was touching you.

He leaned against the arm of the couch, legs bent at the knees, with you lying between them. Your head rested on his firm chest and his arms wrapped themselves under yours, around your waist. It was standard procedure thus far. You always cuddled like this.

The thing with today, however, is that his hands are...occupied.

One hand sits at the hem of your shirt, fingers fidgeting with the flimsy fabric, while the other holds your inner thigh. Over the course of the movie, Jeonghan moved from twisting the hem of your shirt to tracing little hearts onto the skin below, right above the edge of your panties.

You've got half an hour left to finish the movie now. Half an hour to power through your growing desperation.

"there's no need to drag this out," he mumbles into your ear, and you jolt in his arms, feeling his breath tickle the shell of your ear.

"huh?"

"I mean, he could've just shot the guy-"

Unsure of what he was referring to, you opt to agree, not wanting to give away your current state.

"y-yeah, you're right" you stutter, cringing internally at how pathetic you sound.

If he notices, he chooses to make no comment about your utterance and resumes watching the movie. His hands move back to playing with you, only this time, he drags his nails over the waistband of your panties, causing you to squirm in his grasp. The other hand settles back on your inner thigh, fingers bumping into your cunt 'accidentally'.

The contact has you whimpering pathetically, and you bite down on your lower lip to seal off your voice. You fail to notice, however, the smirk playing on Jeonghan's lips.

Oh, this was no accident.

Fifteen minutes to go now, and you think you're going insane. The squeeze of his fingers, the way his nails rake against your skin so softly, he has you losing your sanity. Your panties are soaked, your breathing is shallow, and your face is so red he'd be able to see it even amidst the harsh blue glow the TV casts on your face.

'hang in there' you tell yourself, trying to squeeze your thighs together, trapping Jeonghan's hand between them.

"you okay, angel?" he asks, wiggling his hand until your thighs fall open again, "you've been so quiet"

"I uh, I'm alri-" you break off into a whimper when he moves his hand up and squeezes again.

"what is it, baby?" His voice is sultry and low. You feel yourself clench up around nothing.

"n-nothing hannie I'm okay" you say, breathlessly. Too caught up in watching yourself, you fail to notice the evident grin in your boyfriend's voice- like he was up to no good.

"if you need anything from me, you can just say, hm?"

'I need your dick inside me. I need you to touch me, to kiss me, to have me. Whatever you want. I need you to just have your way with me'

"yeah I'll um, I'll be sure to tell you"

Ten minutes to go. You are an absolute mess. Your panties cling to you uncomfortably, like a second skin, your body is enveloped in a thin film of sweat, and his hands, god his hands have not stopped.

Those gorgeous fingers of his torture you with their every move. You've forgotten about the movie entirely now, choosing instead to look at the way he plays with you. The way his pretty, long fingers grab at your flesh, teasing you without mercy.

You're transfixed, honestly, drifting into thoughts of how they'd feel inside you, how he'd feel inside you. Captivated by his hands, you don't realize when time passes you. Before you know it, the room goes silent, screen turning black before your unfocused eyes.

The credits roll quietly as Jeonghan continues to toy with your body, now certain that you're as invested in this as he is.

He hasn't said it before, but he's wanted to have you from the moment you called him yours. His mind was plagued with thoughts of you- what you'd look like, what you'd sound like, what you'd feel like under him. But, he didn't want to push. This had to happen naturally.

As names litter the screen, Jeonghan brings his hand higher, now flush against your groin, and you fail to conceal the moan that rips out your throat.

"oh?"

"sor-sorry," you stutter, eyes widening, "I should um, I think I'll go wash up-"

Hastily, you move to scramble off his chest, shooting up off the couch only to find him mirroring your actions.

Jeonghan's hand finds your wrist, and he tugs you back, into his embrace. He wraps his arms around you, leaning his chin on the top of your head.

"why won't you ask?" he mumbles into your hair, smoothing his palms over your waist and lower back.

"what are y-"

"I'm all yours, y'know... whatever you need, you can take it from me"

When you fail to respond, Jeonghan sighs, peeling himself away from you. His hands land on your shoulders as he walks you backwards, pushing you onto the couch.

"hannie what are-"

Soft cushions greet your tensed frame, dipping under your weight. Your boyfriend stares down at you, slowly settling on top of you, with his knees resting at either side of your hips.

"take it." he whispers, bringing his face right above yours, so close you can feel his breath tickling your lips.

A breathy sigh slips past your lips, and you shudder at the proximity between your bodies.

Jeonghan inches closer. Your eyes flutter closed, anticipation bubbling away in your stomach. He draws nearer still, pushing further and further, almost reaching your lips, until he stops.

You lie waiting, with your eyes still shut, before he whispers against your lips.

"take. it."

Blushing wildly, you look up at him. He's still close, still almost touching you. At first, you're unsure of what he means, but the look in his eyes tells you all you need to know.

Oh.

He wanted you to work for it.

Your head tilts tentatively, angling yourself towards him. It's a strain, lifting your head at such an awkward angle, but you're almost there. Your lips are almost on his.

So close, just about to touch, when he pulls back ever so slightly. A frustrated whine leaves your lips as his own curl up into a devilish smirk.

"hannie," you pout. His smirk widens.

"c'mon angel you can do better than that, can't you?"

Ignoring your crumbling pride, you reach up once again, managing to ghost your lips over his, only to have him pull away like before.

You huff, letting your head fall back onto the cushions as you turn to the side.

"giving up already?" he hooks his fingers under your chin, forcing you to face him as he speaks.

You're about to bite back, say something mean, but the view you're met with has your throat closing up. Jeonghan's hair hung loosely around his face, his lips were parted, his eyes were blown wide with something you'd never seen before- he looked unreal.

"are you?" he quirks a brow at you before leaning closer, ghosting his lips over yours.

Taking full advantage of the proximity, you loop your arms around his neck and pull him closer, finally managing to kiss him.

The action takes him by surprise, but he quickly recovers, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.

You gasp at the sudden movement, and he takes full advantage, shoving his tongue into your mouth, licking his way inside. There was an expertise to the way he kissed you- how his tongue moved so sensually, how his lips pressed against yours in a way that had your panties soaked.

While one hand binds your wrists together, Jeonghan uses the other to cradle your face. The gentle manner in which his fingers splayed over your hair, thumb tucked into your temple, had you reeling. How dare he act so innocent with his tongue shoved down your throat?

For a minute you both seemed to forget about the world, about reality. All that existed was you and him and the heat between your bodies. You can't help the small whimpers and moans that escape you with every flick of his tongue.

Panting, you pull away. Your chest heaves as you gaze into his eyes, noticing how blown his pupils are. The same eyes that sparkled with love when he saw you, the same eyes that crinkled under his smile, those very eyes looked unrecognisable tonight. There was a lust, a hunger, that shone behind his stare. It made your stomach flutter.

"angel," he mutters, his tone low and raspy, "what do you want from me?"

"I-" you start, breaking eye contact when your cheeks start to heat up once again, "I want you"

He quirks a brow at you, and for some reason, you feel the need to add in a quick "please".

"want me how?"

Jeonghan trails his fingers from your jaw down your body, stopping at your clothed cunt.

"want my fingers?" he smirks as you shudder under his touch, and continues.

"want my mouth?" his head dips into the divot between your collarbones, licking at the tender skin before nipping at it oh-so-gently.

"want my cock?"

In one swift motion, he grinds down into you, pushing his hard bulge against your sex.

A moan claws its way up your throat, and before you're aware of what you're doing, you find yourself whimpering-

"all of it- all of it please hannie"

He stares down at you, his dominant persona faltering for a second when he takes you in. Soft wisps of hair framed your face, a thin film of glossy sweat settled on your skin, crimson tints painted your cheeks. You were sprawled out, blushing, panting, all for him. All because of him.

The way his heart swelled at the sight of you was something he'd never felt with anyone else before.

"my pretty girl," he coos softly, brushing a strand of hair off your face, "I'll make you feel good, okay? Is that what you want angel?"

You nod, desperately, eyes wide with sincerity. God you're adorable- Jeonghan can't help but fuss all over you and pepper your face with soft kisses, before he regains his composure.

With alarming ease, he stands back up, beckoning you forward with the quirk of his fingers as he walks backwards towards his bedroom.

"c'mere"

You swallow your pride and follow him, scrambling off the couch eagerly, chasing after his figure.

The dark setting of his bedroom greets you as you enter after him. It isn't what you expected. Not one bit. For someone as soft and easy going as Jeonghan, black walls and dark satin sheets seemed quite... out of character.

But then again, you've only known him for a few weeks. Perhaps he isn't as soft as he let's on.

"if you wanna stop," he says, pushing you to sit on the bed, "just say the word. okay?"

You nod and his jaw ticks.

"words. I'm gonna need to to use your words for me, yeah?"

"y-yeah I can do that Hannie"

"good."

Slowly, Jeonghan tips you back, letting you lie back onto his mattress with your knees hanging off the edge. He shoots you a sly smirk as his hands run up your sides, under your shirt, making you shiver.

"this okay?" he murmurs, kissing the skin of your exposed tummy while his hands undo your buttons with expert precision.

"mhm"

With each button falling apart under his fingers, you feel your heartbeat quicken. Anticipation builds in your stomach with how slowly yet easily he moves. It was so sensual, so enticing, how he took his time, how he was so confident with the way he handled you.

The heat between your legs is unbearable now.

"there" he sighs, almost to himself, as he pops the last button off, revealing your bralette.

Oh.

Just when he thought you couldn't get any prettier, you had to go and prove him wrong.

"I'm really lucky, aren't I?"

"what ar-"

"I've got the prettiest girl in the world with me. all mine"

You turn away, bashfully.

"m'gonna make you feel good, okay, pretty?"

"yes" you breathe.

Sparing not a second more, he crawls on top of you, nuzzling his face into your neck, leaving wet kisses below your ear.

"could kiss you all day" he whispers against the shell of your ear, biting gently at the sensitive skin.

"Hannie-"

"don't think I'll ever be able to stop"

Jeonghan trails kisses down your neck to your cleavage, stopping right above the fabric of your bralette to look up at you.

"can I?"

"mhm"

Deft fingers slide under your back, pushing you to arch up against him as he unhooks your bra with ease. He lets the fabric fall apart under his fingers and tosses it aside, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of your breasts.

You shudder when his hands knead the soft flesh, occasionally tweaking your nipples between his fingers. He really knew what he was doing.

The heat in your belly only grew with the way he teased you, growing almost unbearable. You needed him to touch you. You'd go crazy if he didn't.

As if he read your mind, Jeonghan places his lips to your breasts, sucking faint red bruises into your skin, moving south. He leaves a trail of marks all the way down your torso, stopping at the hem of your shorts.

"still with me?" he asks, fingers tucked into the waistband of your shorts, mumbling into your skin.

"yeah just- please keep going"

He grins. You were exactly what he imagined. Responsive, sensitive and desperate. Oh he was going to have so much fun with you.

Tugging your shorts down, tantalisingly slow, Jeonghan stares up at you- a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You don't think too much of it at first, but when he moves to pull your panties off, you begin to put two and two together.

A faux pout takes over his features as he holds your underwear right above your knees.

"oh no," he coos, snapping the waistband against your lower thigh, "it's stuck."

Oh.

"what-?" you choke. It was painful now, how badly you needed him. Your clit ached, your hole clenched up around empty space, your skin was on fire.

"can't seem to get these off," A stupid grin stretches over his lips, and you want nothing more than to smack it right off.

"Hannie c'monn it hurts" you whine, tears pricking your eyes, "please"

He pouts, a condescending furrow in his brow.

"but it's stuck"

"god-"

You shove your panties down, hastily, and kick them off until you're completely bare for him. Exasperation paints over your face, only to be replaced by a furious red blush once realisation hits.

Did you just-

"so desperate for me," he smirks as his palms glide over your hips, "fuck look at how wet you are, angel"

Jeonghan crooks a finger into you, dragging it along your slit before raising the digit to your face. There's a glint in his eye, half in awe, half amused.

"you're practically dripping off my fingers, baby"

You feel your cheeks heat up at the sight and turn away, mumbling something along the lines of 'c'mon don't tease'.

There's a chuckle on his end as he gives in, pushing the soaked digit into your mouth. Your cheeks hollow around his finger, tongue swirling, and he sucks in an unsteady breath.

"will you be good, angel? can you stay still for me?"

You hum, opening your mouth to say something, but you quickly cut yourself off with a moan when Jeonghan's tongue drags along your slit. He works the wet muscle into you, dipping inside to collect your arousal before spreading it over your clit. His lips suction your aching nerves, tongue prodding it rhythmically, and your back arches off the bed.

Jeonghan's eyes meet yours, his stare warning you to behave. Instantly, your hips settle back, and you try your hardest to keep still.

"good girl," he praises, mumbling into your clit. The vibrations of his voice shoot up your spine, and you feel your nerves sing, now on edge.

A helpless moan escapes you when he slides two fingers inside you, pumping in and out as you squeeze around him. The combined stimulation of his tongue on your clit and those long fingers inside you, has you dangerously close to falling apart.

"H-Hannie fuck don't stop m'so close-" you gasp, grinding your hips onto his face to match the rhythm of his tongue.

His lips curl up into a sickly smirk and you feel you stomach drop. Surely, surely he wouldn't-

"gonna cum?" he grins. The thrust of his fingers begin to slow their pace and his tongue circles the area around your clit.

You push your hips up, chasing his tongue desperately, but to no avail.

"please-"

"please?" he echoes.

"so close"

"mm I could tell"

The sultry edge to his voice has you torn. On one hand, he just denied you of what would've been the best orgasm of your life, while on the other he sounded so fucking sexy being in charge. You couldn't decide whether you wanted to slap him or pull him into a kiss.

Your thighs quiver with the weight of your ebbing orgasm, and you feel tears spill over as it fades into nothing.

"aw, angel," he coos, thumbing away the pearls slipping down your cheeks, "you were right there, weren't you?"

You nod, sniffling away pathetically.

"do you wanna cum?"

You nod again and he tuts.

"what did I sa-"

"yes! yes please- wanna cum, wanna cum so bad Hannie,"

Jeonghan smiles, satisfied, and lowers his face to your cunt, this time shoving three fingers into you without warning and lapping at your clit with such precision you almost came on the spot.

You moan, hands flying to his hair instantly. His tongue flicked at your nerves just right and the stretch of your walls around his fingers felt ungodly.

"d-don't stop please-"

He smirks against your cunt and pushes further, harder. Within minutes you come undone, feeling your body sink into the mattress as your vision turns white from pleasure. Jeonghan fucks you through your orgasm, licking at your juices lazily.

"taste so good" he groans, pulling his fingers out of you and sucking them into his mouth.

The room feels hot. Far hotter than before. You can smell yourself, smell the salty sweat dripping off of you. Jeonghan grins at your dishevelled state, revelling in the way he had you breaking on his tongue.

"still okay?"

"more than okay" you breathe, tugging him by the collar of his shirt, into a filthy kiss. You can taste the remnants of your arousal on his tongue, and it only makes you want him more.

You pull away, panting, and keep your fingers tangled in his shirt.

"you- are far too clothed for my liking."

Jeonghan's eyes crinkle into that smile you fell in love with, and your heart skips a beat. God, he was just so pretty.

"perv," he smiles.

"hey, I'm the naked one-"

"mhm and who's fault is that? didn't you take these off yourself?" he reaches down, grabbing your panties before waving them around.

"god- you're so-"

"handsome? skilled? tempting?"

"just shut up and fuck me already"

Jeonghan steps back, now standing in front of the bed, and pulls his shirt off. You feel your lungs drain.

He was on the slimmer side, so you didn't really expect much, but the sculpted contours of his pectorals and abs told you something else altogether.

"you're staring"

Shamelessly you let your jaw hang open as you sit up to feel his abs.

"m'not staring what are you talking about?"

Your hands trace over his torso, eyes transfixed by how beautiful he looked like this- staring down at you, one hand resting on your hair, cheeks flushed.

He takes hold of your wandering hand and drags it up to the centre of his chest.

"can you feel that?" he asks, voice raspy.

It's his heart.

"that's all for you"

His heart thuds against his chest, pace so quick you'd have thought he was a racehorse.

"I-" you start, unable to find the words.

"c'mere let me take care of you, hm?"

Ridding himself of his shorts and boxers, Jeonghan let's your hand trace over him.

Gently, he lays you down on the bed, making sure your head rests securely between the pillows. He hovers over you, balancing his weight on his forearms.

"might sting just a little, okay?"

You nod, staring up at him with wide, eager eyes.

Slowly, Jeonghan eases himself into you. He was long. Really long. Girth wise, the stretch didn't hurt too much, but god- he was barely halfway in when you started squirming.

"shh, I know, it'll feel good in a minute angel"

Pushing further, he distracts you with a sensual kiss, licking at the seam of your mouth. You grant him entrance, whimpering when he swipes over your tongue.

He bottoms out inside you, and for a moment, you still in his arms.

"that's it, baby," he mumbles against your lips, breathing hard as is to contain himself, "taking me so good"

When he feels you relax around him, he draws his hips back before pushing back into you. His is pace is steady, his thrusts are firm, you swear you've never felt so secure during sex before.

His length kisses your cervix right away and you cry out, back arching off the bed and into his chest. Your nails rake down his back, leaving deep red marks you're sure he'll tease you about tomorrow.

"fuck-" he seethes, thrusting into you, his jaw tense as beads of sweat collect at his temples.

"Han- oh my god-"

The room echoes with your voices- desperate moans and whimpers neither of you can be bothered to contain. Hot, steamy air floods the space, and you can smell his cologne, his skin as he pounds into you.

A hand reaches down to toy with your clit, stretching your lips open, leaving your nerves completely at his mercy. His middle finger dips into you, rubbing lazy circles against your clit, and you cry out his name like it's all you know.

He muffles your cries with his tongue, shoving it into your mouth as you moan and whimper into him. It's hard to breathe, hard to speak, hard to think, but you just can't get enough.

A particularly harsh thrust has you clamping down on him and he groans. His lips trail over to your ear, and he bites gently at the tender flesh of your earlobe.

"you feel like heaven-" he shudders, licking at the shell of your ear.

Your skin lights up, hairs standing on end, and you feel your orgasm building.

His fingers circle your clit faster, and his thrusts move to a brutal pace.

Moaning into each other, you chase your highs, hips bucking eagerly, desperately, as you finally come undone together.

Jeonghan fucks into you, helping you ride your orgasm as he does his own.

There's a long silence as he pushes into you, both you and him wincing from overstimulation. He gazes into your eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips, and kisses you deeply one last time, before pulling out.

Whimpering at the sudden loss, your hips chase him, and he scoffs, an amused look taking over his face.

"you're insatiable- c'mon let's get you cleaned up"

Before you can protest, you find yourself slumped against his chest, carried in his arms like a princess as he walks over to the bathroom.

You're met with an already filled bath, rose petals scattered along the surface of the water, candles lit up and arranged along the room.

"so I uh, I might have planned thi-"

You cut him off with a peck, giggling at his sudden nervousness.

"thank you," you beam as he lowers you into the water, following right after.

"anything for my angel"

[harknessxo]

Agrio

Paring: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal

Summary: The gayest fight scene but with actual smut.

Warnings; blood play, knife play?, magical binds, fingering, cunnilingus, face riding, praise kink.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/n: Y’all asked and y’all shall receive.

“I got mugged, mister,” Agatha said while picking up Señor Scratchy, “She took every little bit of power I had and left me with household appliances-”

Suddenly she heard a noise upstairs. She held the bunny closer to her chest as she slowly made her way upstairs. She looked around the corner and saw nothing. Had she gone mad? Probably.

She placed the white bunny on the floor and took the first thing she saw as a weapon. She heard the noise again, this time coming from the front door. She walked closer but before she could reach it, the door burst open, a massive amount of wind knocking her off her feet. She groaned in pain when she hit the floor. She looked up to come face to face with her worst enemy, Rio Vidal.

As Agatha started to get up, Rio lounged at her with her dagger, trapped her between the wall and her own body.

“I’ve missed you,” Rio said with slight sincerity, giving her a mocking smile while pressing the dagger dangerously close to Agatha’s throat.

“I hate you.” Agatha snarled, making her chuckle.

“How long has it been? Ever since you got your hands on the darkhold you hid behind all that dark magic but now,” she dug the tip of the dagger to the older woman’s collarbone, drawing a drop of blood, “You bleed out of mere touch. You’re vulnerable.”

“Only physically,” Agatha bashed Rio’s head into the wall and then started wrestling with her trying to get the dagger. The dagger ended up getting stuck on the wall and they looked at each. Agatha smiled sarcastically but it was quickly wiped off when Rio’s hand wrapped itself around her neck. Her body was suddenly thrown over her kitchen counter making her scream in pain.

Rio snatched her dagger from the wall and threw directly at Agatha’s head but she was able to shield herself with a baking pan. The dagger landed in between them and the both scrambled to take it. Unfortunately for Agatha, she accidentally grabbed the sharp end of it and it sliced through her palm, making her whimper pathetically.

“Aw, does it hurt, sweet girl?” Rio mocked which made Agatha retaliate, slapping her across the face before pinning her body down on the floor, one hand around her neck and the other pinning her hand with the dagger.

“You can’t kill me,” Rio gasped out.

“You can’t kill me. It’s not allowed.” Rio headbutted Agatha making her back away, holding her head in pain. A sudden rush of wind sent Agatha flying back, her back hitting a bookshelf full force. She fell on her knees, her body trembling in pain.

“Maybe I can’t kill you, but I can make you wish you were dead-”

“No wait! Please!” Agatha begged, giving Rio a look of pain and exhaustion,

“Agatha Harkness begging? This is new,” Rio smirked.

“This isn’t what you want, killing me when I have no power,” Agatha tries to reason with her, “You know you prefer me-“

“Horizontal? Perhaps in a grave,” Rio replied sarcastically, “But you know what? I won’t kill you,” she walked closer to her, leaning down to her eye level, “The Salem Seven will.” Agatha hadn’t realized that at some point tears had managed to leave her eyes. The younger woman brought her hand up to wipe them away, making her flinch slightly. She then took a hold of the bleeding hand and examined it.

“Gosh, watching you bleed really warms the heart.”

“You don’t have a heart-” she tried to pull her hand back.

“Yes I do. It’s black and it beats for you…” Rio licked the blood off Agatha’s hand, all while maintaining eye contact and when she was done she crashed her lips against the older woman’s, her hand fisting her hair. Agatha was somewhat shocked by the kiss. She tried to pull away but Rio’s grip on her hair was too tight. Her lips were soft and gentle, which was something she wasn’t used to. She closed her eyes and let herself melt into the kiss.

“I think your death can wait, don’t you think?” She kissed down Agatha’s jawline as she nodded her head pathetically knowing the words wouldn’t come out correctly. With a wave of Rio’s hand they were no longer in Agatha’s destroyed kicthen but in her bedroom. Rio was on top of her, straddling her hips, the head scarf she had before long gone.

“All the wait was worth it,” Rio whispered into Agatha’s ear, her magic binding her hand together above her head. Agatha struggled against the binds, her breathing getting heavy. She looked up at Rio, her eyes dark and her face red.

“You’re not getting away this time, sweetheart.” Rio whispered into her ear again this time nipping at her neck and licking the blood off the prior nick made by her dagger. Agatha let out a soft moan, arching her neck, giving Rio more access. Her hands were balled into fists, still trying to get free from the binds.

“You’ve always been so bratty for your own good,” Rio chuckled.

“I hate you-“ Agatha said through gritted teeth, a gasp leaving her mouth when Rio bit down on her neck, drawing more blood.

“Say it again. You know much it turns me on.” Her hand started undoing the ribbon on Agatha’s robe, slowly revealing her naked body. Agatha blushed and looked away, refusing to say it again. She was about to make another snarky comment when she felt Rio’s hand on her thigh, slowly making its way up her body.

“Hmm, no more snarky comments?” Agatha’s breathing hitched as Rio’s hand moved higher. She bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood, trying to hold back any sounds.

“You’re adorable, Agatha.” Rio praised before she snapped her fingers and her clothes disappeared. Agatha couldn’t help but look at Rio’s body, her eyes roaming over her curves and muscles.

“You like what you see?” She winked. Agatha rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. She could feel her body heating up and she hated the fact that Rio had such an effect on her.

“I will make you break, sweet girl. Just you wait.”

“I can take it.” Agatha said, trying to sound confident. She could feel her heart racing in her chest as she anticipated what was about to happen next. Rio just giggles before wrapping her lips around one of her nipples. Agatha’s back arched off the bed, a loud moan escaping her lips. Her body trembled as Rio continued to suck on her nipple, her tongue swirling around it.

The hand that remained on Agatha’s inner thigh moved even closer to her core but not there yet. Agatha whimpered, her hips bucking up slightly, desperately wanting Rio to touch her where she needed her most but she refused to beg.

“Do you want me to touch you down here?” Rio’s fingers teased her outter labia. Agatha’s breathing was heavy, her eyes shut tightly.

“All you have to do is beg, baby. It’s that simple.” She encouraged.

Agatha opened her eyes, her gaze meeting Rio’s. She bit her lip again, her pride getting in the way of what she really wanted but in the end she nodded her head, a desperate plea escaping her lips.

“Please…”

“That’s a good girl.” Rio finally dipped her fingers into Agatha’s wetness. She leaned down and crashed her lips into a rough kiss. Rio had Agatha’s bottom lip between her teeth, licking the dried blood from earlier and sucking out more, savoring the metallic taste. Agatha moaned into the kiss, her body arching up to meet Rio’s touch. She could feel herself getting wetter with each stroke of Rio’s fingers. Her hands were still tied above her head, making her feel even more vulnerable and at Rio’s mercy.

Agatha’s skin was sensitive, every bite and nip sending a jolt of pleasure through her body. She moaned and gasped, her body writhing underneath Rio’s touch. Her wrists strained against the binds, wanting to touch Rio but unable to do so. Soon Rio got to her soaked core and wrapped her lips around her clit without warning. Agatha let out a loud cry as her mouth closed around her clit. Her body trembled, her hips bucking up against Rio’s face.

“Oh god…”

“Feels good doesn’t it?” Agatha nodded her head, unable to form words. Her mind was clouded with pleasure, all thoughts of defiance gone. She moaned and whimpered, her body aching for more. Rio’s fingers joined her mouth, sending the blinded woman into pure bliss. Her body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. She was so close to the edge, her moans growing louder and more desperate.

“Please!”

“Please what sweetheart?” Agatha was so far gone, she couldn’t even think straight. She whimpered and begged, her voice hoarse.

“Please let me cum…”

“Such a polite woman,” she praised, “Go ahead. Cum for me.” Her body obeyed the command, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as she came hard. Her body trembled and shook, her vision blurring with pleasure.

“There we go. Such a good girl.” Agatha’s breathing was ragged, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm. She looked up at Rio with a dazed expression, her eyes half-lidded.

“I think it’s my turn now,” Rio said, giving Agatha a devilish grin. Her heart skipped a beat at Rio’s words. She was still recovering from her orgasm, but she couldn’t deny that the thought of pleasing Rio made her body tingle with excitement. She moved up her trembling body to her face.

“I’m going to ride this pretty face,” she cupped Agatha’s face, “and you’re going to make me cum…”

Agatha’s heart pounded in her chest. She nodded her head, her mouth already watering at the thought of tasting Rio. She licked her lips and looked up at Rio with a mixture of eagerness and submission.

“I told you you would break…” She couldn’t deny it. She was completely broken, at Rio’s mercy and loving every second of it. She looked up at Rio with a mixture of adoration and desire.

“…You always seem to win.”

“That we can both agree on. Now be a good girl and open wide for me.” Rio said while snapping her fingers, finally freeing Agatha’s hands. She obediently opened her mouth, her tongue sticking out slightly in anticipation.

Rio sat on her face, shamelessly moaning out in pleasure. Her hand soon tangled itself into Agatha’s hair pushing her face further into her pussy, almost suffocating. Agatha didn’t mind at all, she actually enjoyed every second of it. She used her now free hands to keep Rio’s thighs firmly on either side of her face.

Her senses were overwhelmed with the taste and scent of Rio. She licked and sucked at her pussy, her tongue darting in and out of her entrance making Rio moan out a string of profanities. She gripped into her thighs tightly, holding her in place as she worked to bring her to climax.

“God fuck- just like that-” Her tongue moving faster and more insistently against her clit in response. She could feel Rio’s body starting to tense, a sure sign that she was close to cumming. She started grinding her hips against Agatha’s face, chasing her high.

Her eyes rolled back in her head as the younger woman grinded against her face. She could feel herself getting turned on again, the taste and feel of Rio driving her wild. She increased the pressure of her tongue, focusing all her attention on her clit even more.

“Yes, yes, yess!” With one final thrust of her hips, Rio came undone, her body shuddering with pleasure. She let out a loud moan, her fingers digging into Agatha’s hair as she rode out her orgasm. Agatha eagerly lapped up every drop of Rio’s cum, savoring the taste of her. She continued to lick and suck until Rio was spent, her body going limp on top of her.

“Fuck, Agatha,” she kissed her lips. Agatha kissed her back, her lips still slick with Rio’s juices. She wrapped her arms around Rio, pulling her down onto the bed beside her.

“You taste like heaven…” Agatha said, making Rio chuckled against her lips before she started to stand up, putting her clothes back on.

“What are you doing?” Agatha asked, confused.

“I did say the Salem Seven would be coming to visit. And though I would love to be here to witness you meet your end,” she walked over to her once again, “I have things to do,” she kissed Agatha’s lips which the older woman returned still somewhat dumbfounded, “Te veo…”

Agatha watched as Rio walked away, a mix of emotions running through her. She touched her lips, still tingling from the kiss. After she stopped daydreaming she realized what she had gotten herself into. The Salem Seven were after her. Fuck.

Taglist; @oh-no-bummer @polaris-likethestar @wandasreallover

[luimagines]

Can I ask for FD Warriors or Sky post battle making sure Reader is ok?

Why not both?! :D

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Warrior

He was furious.

The power coursing through his veins was intoxicating and compelling in the mortal sense of divinity.

This was a drug and the purest sense of invincibility.

Rage and fierce devotion were his only companions as it stands. They fought in the confines of his mind for control. He could keep fighting. He could continue to end the enemies that stood between his loved ones and their safety.

But the threat was no more.

Gingerly, he puts his sword away. He feels as if he is shaking.

The boys all come to him, asking his questions and attempting to get his attention to dullness of their reality. But that's currently none of his concern.

Warrior takes a deep breath, patting his brothers on the shoulders before he stalks his way through the camp.

He stops right in front of you and puts his hands on his hips. You were injured and bleeding. "you're hurt."

"I'm fine." You gasp as you attempt to shift out of your position.

Warrior shakes his head. Without prompting and without warning, he begins to tend to the gash on your arm.

"Warrior please-"

"silence."

You shut up.

Warrior takes the bandage and wraps it tightly around your bicep, not wanting it to get worse. He grits his teeth and clenches his jaw, willing himself with sheer force of will alone to keep his hands gentle.

The others wait on baited breath to see what he will do next. They are also paying extra attention to your own reactions, wanting to see how you fare dealing with the one who had donned the mask.

He finished fairly quickly and scowls at the bandage.

"It didn't insult your heritage." You say softly, taking your arm away. "Stop it."

Warrior raises an eyebrow, taking off the mask with little fan fare. He seems unbothered by the power that is sucked away from him and sealed with the wooden mask once more.

"You got hurt."

"It'll heal."

"I told you to stick to the plan."

"I'm aware that the group had elected a decision, but given that it was a stupid decision, I've elected to ignore it." You snarl back, turning away form him. You stand up in indignation and begin to storm away.

You pause and sigh in defeat before you could even take the first step.

"Thank you.... for saving my life."

"Always."

Sky

That was it. It was over. The power of gods was no longer needed.

He sighs and puts the familiar (?) weight of his sword on his back. This power was strange but not entirely foreign. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew how to use it and how to call it forth to use for his own benefit.

How fortunate, he thinks to himself for a moment, that he is not a god, nor is he on a rampage for vengence.

He feels invincible.

He looks over the carnage and walks through the fallen bodies with the same casualness as if he was on a mere Sunday stroll.

The others stare at him with varying degrees of shock and awe as he gets closer to them. They are not who he's after though. There's a specific person that eh wants to check up on and there currently no where to be found.

If he was a lesser man, he would have panicked, but with this form, he knew better. There was no voice telling him here to go. Sky has no idea why he seemed to know where he was going, but he wasn't about to question the force behind his actions.

He had saved the day by listening to them, hadn't he?

"Oh for the love of-! Sweet blueberry pie." You shout and fall silent suddenly at the sight of him. You step back, putting a hand over your fragile heart.

Sky takes a knee, putting his sword in front of him with his opposite hand. "Are you harmed, Beloved?"

You push yourself against a tree. You had attempted to create more space between you and his other worldly figure, but had only figuratively trapped yourself. You're silent. Jaw dropped and eyes widen, you find it in yourself to shake your head.

You're unharmed.

Good, Sky takes in a breath. His rather drastic attempt of turning the tides on the battle field had not been in vain.

He stands.

You slide down the bark of the tree, staring at him with an unreadable expression on your face. Sky doesn't think it's fear, but you've certainly reverted to a primitive sort of reaction.

Sky shakes his head. The call to the power is alluring and smooth. Soft and inviting.

A softer, almost imperceptivity softer curse leaves your lips.

Sky takes off the mask and wobbles on his legs for a moment. He takes a knee again, but not out of a sign of respect this time.

He's heaving.

"...Ow..." He raises his head, panting harshly. "...I'm not doing that again."

[muddyorbsblr]

would've could've should've pt1

See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: A careless comment from Thor calls into question the stability of your relationship with Loki

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: 18+ | mature themes; the slightest bit of steam toward the beginning; angst; Tony and Thor having a very much "bro" type attitude and not in the good way; hinting at Reader's emotional baggage; the slightest mention of human experimentation [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established but private/secret relationship; Reader's baggage will be explained further in part 2

There was something rather peaceful in the routine you and Loki had settled into when either of you came back from a mission. Decompressing the night before the debriefing care of Rogers that you took bets on how long this one would last. And whoever won would get to pick where to get takeout from on your next indoor date night.

Your last mission was particularly stressful, nearly losing a limb from triggering a booby trap while retrieving intel about potential human experimentation from a HYDRA base. The second Nat mentioned that little tidbit in passing while you were unpacking your equipment from the mission, the god left the common area, raiding the pantry for a selection of your favorite snacks, and queueing up one of your comfort movies.

The one about a woman that hit her head and found herself stranded in a romantic comedy only to realize that her best friend, the one that had been in front of her all this time, was her great love all along.

When you got to your apartment, Loki was already there with the movie ready to play on the screen, and he even went the extra step to open and plate the snacks on the coffee table in your living room for easier access. And the cherry on top of it all was that he brought over one of his sweaters for you to change into, something he'd been doing more and more ever since you mentioned how comfortable they were during one of your missions together where you'd shared a suite.

"You know, I'm pretty sure they're watching the same movie outside," you mentioned, speaking around the wafer stick you were munching on. "Nat just texted me that she has Netflix power considering how this mission got us stressed out to hell and back. Wanna just watch it outside with the rest of the guys?"

The god shook his head, pulling you closer to him. "If we join them outside, then I would be unable to do this." He tilted your chin up and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "And this is my favorite part," he mumbled against your skin before proceeding to give you a series of kisses, increasing with passion in each one.

Suddenly whatever was happening in the movie didn't matter to you anymore, an army of butterflies fluttering near violently at your stomach as he wrapped his arm around you and maneuvered your positions until you were straddling him on the couch, your knees on either side of his hips. He kept his hand on your waist, holding you steady while his other hand buried itself in your hair before he licked into your mouth, letting out a decadent sounding moan when your tongues met.

He moved his hand to your lower back, changing your positions once again so that your back was flat on the couch, and he hovered over you and between your legs. You leaned into his touch, losing yourself in his attentions, until his hand moved upward, cupping your breast. That was when you broke the kiss.

"I'm sorry," he panted, immediately moving his hand away once he saw the frantic, panicked look in your eyes. "I got carried away--"

"No, sweetie, I'm sorry," you insisted, placing your hands on his shoulders, and pulling yourself up slightly to kiss him, trying to reassure your boyfriend he did nothing wrong. "It's just…I want to be ready, really, I do. And I know it's frustrating for you it's just that…every time we take a step  in that direction something in me starts running and cowering in a corner, it's not fair to you that--"

"Please don't apologize, darling, you have nothing to be sorry for." He righted your positions on the couch, delicately stroking your hair and giving you a soft peck on your lips before he stood, offering you his hand. "I think we could both benefit from cooling off a bit. Would you like to join the others outside?"

Despite having offered it yourself just a few minutes earlier, your stomach dropped when the tables had turned, knowing that you'd put a stop to something that could have turned out completely mind-blowing and possibly even life changing. Only thing was, when you reached the peak of a relationship, that was it.

The only way forward was down.

"You go ahead," you told him, walking toward your bedroom. "I'll just change into my sweats first…so no one asks questions."

By some miracle, no one on the team had caught on yet that you two had started seeing each other and had been in a relationship for the better part of the year. And neither of you seemed to be itching to burst your little bubble of privacy quite yet, knowing that the second the team knew, Wanda and Nat would be down your throat with questions practically begging for every detail. And Thor would be doing much of the same for his brother.

At least that was the story you tried to tell yourself. It was better than what that little voice in your head tried to scream at you every time he didn't take the seat next to you. Or when he'd drop your hand and take a few steps back the second he heard someone rounding the corner.

Loki gave you a strained smile, starting to walk toward your front door. "I'll see you outside then." Before you could reach your bedroom, he called out to you. "I love you, little mortal."

You blinked back the tears that were threatening to come out, looking back at him with a contrived smile of your own. "I love you, too, Mischief."

A good few minutes passed before you exited your apartment, the movie paused on the TV and a rather lively discussion being had among your teammates. Something about Barnes' new girlfriend.

"Oh good you're here, jellybean, welcome to the circus," Tony greeted you, jutting his chin toward the empty seat next to Wanda. "Need your input on something."

Instead of taking the seat, you walked over to the bar to pour yourself a glass of wine. You had a feeling you were gonna need it. On your way there, you spotted Loki seated near his brother, giving you a minuscule smile and a tiny wave of his hand.

"Go ahead, I'm listening," you called out.

"Stark's trying to tell me the woman I'm seeing isn't all that interested in me because she doesn't want to spend the night," Bucky started. "Said she's just with me for the aesthetic of dating me, whatever backwards 21st Century nonsense that is. I'm trying to tell the rest of these horn dogs that maybe she's just not ready yet. Good things take time. Flowers need to blossom--"

"Sarge, don't ever say that line again, it's so cheesy you'll attract rats in here," you shot back, pointing your finger at the soldier before turning toward Stark. "That said though…I'm with Bucky on this one, Stark. Maybe she's just not ready yet I mean…not everyone's ready to drop trou and put out so easily, you know. How long have you been dating this girl anyways?" You turned back to Bucky as you asked the question.

"Three weeks? Give or take?"

"Dammit Stark, it's only been three weeks, give our boy some time." You made a show of facepalming before you picked up your glass, plopping down next to Wanda who immediately rested her head on your shoulder.

"They've been at this for the last ten minutes," she groaned. "Wake me when they put the movie back on." Meanwhile, you clocked Nat next to her, not so subtly massaging her temples in an attempt to calm herself down. You shared the feeling; this was such a common sense discussion it shouldn't have lasted thirty seconds.

"Well then perhaps you could provide some insight for another situation, Lady Y/N," Thor boomed from across the floor, swatting his brother's hand away when he tried to get the blond Asgardian to stop.

"Brother you really need not--"

"Nonsense. Lady Y/N seems knowledgeable on how timetables and relations between mortals work, perhaps she'll finally give the perspective I have been seeking."

Your boyfriend shot you a look, as if he was already embarrassed by what his brother was about to say, piquing your curiosity even more. "I'm all ears, Thunder. Ask away."

"My brother has been seeing a mortal woman for the better part of the last Midgardian year. My best estimate…eight moons," he began, your stomach once again dropping at the realization that he was about to ask your insight about…yourself. You gave him a motion to go on, placing your glass on the table to hide the way your hand had begun to shake. "And while it has been as you here on Midgard would say 'like pulling teeth' trying to get him to divulge any detail about her, something I have surmised is that she also seems unwilling to spend the night with him. Yet he claims they love each other."

"Yikes, tough break, Reindeer Games!" Tony winced. "My two cents? You're not just on the same boat with Barnes over here, you're the goddamn captain of the ship. Go on, jellybean, tell him."

"I-I…" you stuttered, your heart thundering in your chest from unwittingly having been placed on the proverbial hot seat. "Maybe she just…wants to be sure, you know? I mean…I don't know how y'all do it in Asgard but here, with some people, being intimate is…something m-more than physical."

You could see from where you sat that the raven-haired god's fingers were twitching, his leg bouncing as if he wanted to stand up and leave the room. You pretty much wanted out of this, too.

Thor waved off your explanation. "I completely disagree. That amount of time passed, I believe one should be sure lest she be wasting both of their time. Brother, much as I can tell you love this mortal, it is my expert opinion, which I believe will be backed by the men in this room, that your mortal woman does not love you. This is, as our genius friend Stark has stated earlier, all for the optics of having you at her arm."

It was getting impossible to breathe. How dare he say that about you right in your face like this? Thinking he knew everything there was to know about your relationship just because he was in one of his own?

"You know not the first thing about her, Brother," Loki hissed, speaking through his teeth as if he was readying himself to strike.

"I know enough," the blond Asgardian shot back dismissively. "You know I think the world of you, Brother, and after everything you've endured, you deserve every bit of happiness this universe will grant you." He clapped his hand on Loki's shoulder. "If this mortal shares not this sentiment, then perhaps your time is better spent elsewhere."

"He's right, Mischief," you choked out, your voice so small you were surprised it even traveled that far that it had everyone looking to you. "Maybe you are wasting your time with this one…you know, if she's making you wait so long." You stood up abruptly, making Wanda groan in protest when she nearly fell over to the spot you'd just vacated.

In what was probably your most poorly miscalculated decision for the night, you downed your wine in a single gulp, starting to walk back to your apartment.

"Hey where you going, jellybean, you just got here," Tony hollered from his seat. "Come on, I know talking about Frosty the Snowman's nonexistent sex life was a drag, how about we all drop it for now, I'll order some tacos and we can go back to grilling Manchie here."

"Or we could lay off either of us and grill someone else for a change?" Bucky groaned, throwing his human arm over his eyes as he turned his face to the ceiling.

"You know what, you are so right, let's talk about the big guy who has a lot to say about being the resident relationship expert." Stark turned to face Thor. "How is Lady Thunder lately? And how are you with the whole your old hammer chooses her over you thing?"

The conversation faded into a dulled roar in your ears as the wine begun to take what fleeting effect it would have on you, your pulse faintly thumping in your ears as you made your way back to your apartment.

You hadn't even been back two minutes before your door swung open again, the God of Mischief standing at your entryway looking a mix of concerned and distraught. "Darling, I completely apologize for my oaf of a brother, I had no idea he would--"

"It's okay, Loki," you cut him off, throwing your hands up as if to push away the conversation. "Maybe he's on to something, I mean you should be with someone who doesn't take forever and a day to be ready for something like this, maybe we should--"

In an instant, he stood inches away from you, placing his hands on your shoulders in a gentle but firm grasp. "Don't say another word, my love, please." He rubbed his hands up and down your arms in a soothing gesture; whether it was to soothe you or him was beyond you.

"You want more, I get that," you pressed on. "And I can't give that to you--"

"You are all that I want, precious mortal." He leaned in, pressing a desperate kiss to your lips before wrapping his arms around you. "I am already more than content that you've even granted me the honor to know who you are outside of our duties. This is all I need, to be able to love you as I have these past moons."

Tears began to fall from your eyes as your words weighed heavy on your tongue. "I'm sure there's someone out there more than willing to give you what I can't, it's selfish of me to keep you--"

"Stop, little mortal, I beg of you," he pleaded, repeatedly pressing his lips to your forehead. "Don't rid yourself of me like this. I don't care if there's someone else out there, they aren't you." He sat you both down back on the couch, cradling you against his chest as his hand rubbed up and down your back in soothing motions. "Please just try to put what my oaf of a brother said out of your mind. His opinion is entirely his own and it is one I do not share."

Your next question blurted out without much resistance. "Loki what if I never become ready? What if you really are wasting your time with me, you shouldn't--"

"Any time I spend with you, regardless of how it is spent, is never a waste," he whispered, stroking your face as he held your gaze. "If ever you decide to share that part of yourself with me, it will be an honor that I will cherish for the rest of my days, but I will never be the one to place pressure on you to move yourself at a pace you're uncomfortable with."

You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, prompting him to press a kiss to your temple when you sniffled from the tears you were trying and failing to hold back. "I do love you," you mumbled against him. "You know that, right?"

"Of course I do, my darling mortal." He pressed his cheek against yours, taking deep breaths to calm himself after the scare your words from earlier gave him. He wanted to punch his brother clean across the jaw for jeopardizing his happiness with his careless words, and the stabbing pain it put him through seeing how deeply that opinion had cut you.

He started moving toward your bedroom, carrying you in his arms bridal style. Mostly in refusal to let you go even for a fraction of a moment.

"What're you doing?" you mumbled, making a motion to move out of his arms.

"We're going to bed, darling. Just to sleep, nothing more, I swear."

"Hmph…" you shook your head, the motion making the tip of your nose nuzzle his neck in a slight tickling sensation. "Maybe…maybe you should stay at your place tonight." Your voice was so small, so unsure of what you'd just said. The god stopped in his tracks, his body going rigid and making you immediately regret your words.

"Do you want me to leave, dear heart?" he choked out, his heart at war with himself as it protested against him putting you back down on your feet.

"No," you admitted, lifting your head from his shoulder and showing him the tears that had begun to redden your eyes. "I want you to stay, I'll always want you to stay, I just don't…" Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, almost sounding like a hiccup. "I don't want you to be frustrated because of me--"

"I'm not," he reassured you, resting his forehead on yours. "Being with you like this is more than enough for me. I need you to know this, my darling."

He laid you down on your bed before his clothes changed into his own loungewear set with a wash of his green magic, settling under the covers next to you and pulling you into his arms.

"Promise me something, Mischief?"

"Anything."

"If…and when…the time comes that you get tired of waiting? And you want to be with someone else--"

"Little mortal, not another word." He tightened his hold on you, as if he couldn't hold you close enough. "Please, my love, let's just retire for the night."

"Just let me get this out," you insisted. "Let me say my piece and I'll never mention it again. Okay?"

He sighed, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. "Okay."

"If you want to be with someone else, just promise you'll tell me and leave me first? I don't wanna find out waking up one morning and seeing someone else with her arms around you and just waving it around for everyone to see." Your voice dwindled and wavered into barely a whisper, your arm tightening around his midsection, a part of you already refusing to give him up even if the day were to come.

"That will never happen," he told you. "Why would I ever wish to leave you?"

"Just--Just promise me anyway. Please?"

"Look at me, little mortal." He traced along your jaw with his finger, tilting your chin up so he could see your eyes. The sight of the genuine fear of that precise outcome reflected in your expression knocked nearly all of the air from the god's lungs. "On the remotest chance of that happening, I promise I will never do wrong by you. But I want nothing more than for you rest assured that I will never wish to be with another.

"Perhaps one day you'll believe it. But I will gladly spend my days proving my devotion to you. This…This I will gladly swear to you. On whatever semblance of a soul I have left." He brushed the tip of his nose against yours before pressing a tender kiss to the same spot. "I love you, my darling Y/N."

You finally settled in his embrace, resting your head on his chest as you began to let your breathing even out. "I love you, too, Loki."

Just the thought of history repeating itself one day had your blood going cold, feeling as if your very bones were shaking from the images your mind conjured of the inevitable day that Loki would leave you. Somewhere deep inside you knew it was ridiculous for you to even think that your boyfriend was anywhere even near capable of putting you through what he had all those years ago.

But that was the thing about fear. Sometimes it was rational, like jumping out of the Quinjet and having a passing scare that your parachute had a hole in it. And other times it was outright absurd. Like now. Thinking that in the morning after you first had sex, the god would have realized there wasn't anything worth spending more time with. That he'd have had his fill of you and now it was time to move on to better prospects.

It didn't help, either, that your overly cautious mind was yelling that the signs were all there. That it could tell you exactly where this was headed because of the dropped hands. The refusal to even sit near each other. The barely there acknowledgement when you were even in the same room together. Everything that had happened before with him…felt like a mirror image of what was happening now. With Loki.

And you didn't have it in you to tell him that his desire for privacy was slowly and quite surely crushing you.

A/N: Starting off another story from the request pile! This is going to have 3 parts, where both parts 1 and 2 will deliver on the more angsty part and part 3 will be the comfort/fluff. I know you asked for "90% angst", Anon, but hopefully 10k words worth of angst will do it…because part 2 is 6.5k words long 😳👀

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

[onmyyan]

Gabe NSFW ABC'S

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

High fives and bear hugs, Gabe's skin may feel hot to the touch but he still demands to feel you in some way‼️ it's a need not a want to feel his baby against his chest, no matter the sweat covering you both or the fact that his brain is still melted from cumming as hard as he did, be it a hand on your stomach or his entire body draped across you like a blanket, he's on you in some way shape or form.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His arms, biceps specifically. He works so hard on himself and to him they show how strong and capable he is, how he has the power to protect what matters to him, as for you darling, our boy's a sucker for your thighs, if the endless amounts of hickeys on them didn't tell you that, the way he buries his face in them so giddily sure does.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves a good creampie don't get me wrong but there's something about seeing your perfect form covered in his cum that scratches this primal caveman need of his, he's especially fond of licking you clean afterwards.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Panty sniffer. And he's an absolute fiend about it, obsessed with your natural scent, so much so you periodically lose underwear throughout your relationship because he fucks himself silly, huffing the drenched fabric with a blissed out grin, and ends up ruining them beyond repair, y'all are in this endless cycle of him stealing your underwear, ruining it with his cum, and buying you more.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He has more experience than Caspian but less than Marcos, somewhere in the middle, he's incredibly observant and isn't afraid to ask if he's doing good, if you want this or that, he's attentive.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy, but the kind where he's pressed flush against your back, one strong arm wrapped tightly around your center, pressing him against you like he's trying to make you as close as physically possible, he gets to touch you, fuck into you as hard as he wants, and grunt all his praises directly in your ear.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Unintentionally goofy, he can get pretty clumsy when he's excited so it's almost guaranteed he's gonna knock into something or get trapped in his shirt in his and he's rushing to get to you, which always makes you both giggly, it creates this bubble of warmth and safety.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His happy trail is prominent, a dark reddish hue showing his natural hair color, fun fact, he thinks he looks hot because of it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Extremely intimate, hands interlocked, searing eye contact, that is when his eyes aren't fluttering shut, that blissful little grin on his face, you can feel his love for you with every tender and heated touch, likes to rest his forehead on yours when he has you facing him, long, sloppy kisses, he stares at you with so much adoration, but also like he wants to completely devour you, it's lovely.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He was bad before y'all got together but now?? His libido is so easily set off by anything and everything you do, you could send him a sweet selfie of yourself at work or school and if he looks at your smile or gorgeous face for a second too long he will get hard, and he will have to cum or his brain is stuck in feral horny goblin mode until he sees you next.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Daddy kink, Size kink, Predator and Prey, Blood kink, Overstimulation, Public kink, and fun fact, if you feeling froggy and call him Daddy in public you will be getting pulled by your neck into the nearest dark corner and he will be rearranging your guts promptly.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He really likes the freedom and security of destroying you in your guy's home because he has full range to ruin you to his hearts content, he doesn't need to rush, he can make you cum over and over and over, however he is partial to some good ol fashioned nasty-window-fogging car sex.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Literally anything you do, good LORD he's down horrendously, but if you really wanna drive him crazy just ask for his help. Can't reach something? He'll get it for you for, sure, just be ready to feel his dick digging into your back when he reaches over you to grab it. Need him to open something? No problem, just hop on the counter real quick, yeah no it's nothing it's just his dick is jumping in his sweatpants because you said please when you asked him and now he has to fuck you against the nearest available surface.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He can't even conceptualize sharing you with someone in ANYWAY his eye will twitch at the mere echo of the thought.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

You're his favorite meal and he's always hungry. If he could live off your cunt he would, he ain't stopping till you yank him away and even then, that only encourages him to bury his tongue that much deeper.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fucks like a beast, even if he tries to go slow eventually his higher functions turn off and all he can do is pound away, very much the type to break the bed, make sure you're okay, and keep pumping into you like nothing happened, leaves you feeling sore in the best ways.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If you're down he's down, anywhere anytime, especially if there's a chance you'll get caught, he knows he's the most dangerous person in the room and if someone catches you he wishes a mf would try to interrupt or make you feel any kind of bad about it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Absolutely, he's down to try anything once, especially if you suggest it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

3-5 depending on your energy, he can go all night if he's really pent up, he just can't get enough.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't own any but he really really wants to use a vibrator on you while he's deep in your guts, any way he can turn your brain into a puddle he's game.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Huge fuckin tease, but also terrible at it lmao?? Because you never have to ask twice, at most you get a delayed yes 💀🤚🏼

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's made the neighbors call the police several times, they just stop coming to y'all's house at some point. He's very vocal, lots of grunts and growls, moans of your name, likes to growl out all the filthy things he's about to do, and the way he says it, it's said like a promise.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Randomly feels subby, once in a blue moon this Daddy Dom needs to be babied and suck on a titty or two for a good few hours, he still fucks like a menace in this state, and despite the role switching, he's somehow even more intense when he's feeling needy.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

7.5 inches and meanly thick, he has to make you cum at least once before he puts it in, because that stretch is a monster, in the best ways.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Horndog central over here. He has a high drive and it's only ever amplified by his intense, obsessive love for you, very down to go to pound town, anytime.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends on how much y'all have been fuckin tbh, if it's one of those days where he's been going at you for hours on hours, he's pretty much out seconds after he makes sure you're okay, dw when he wakes up again for real the aftercare is immaculate and loving.

[goingmerryfics]

Affection & PDA w/ Smoker, Corazon, & Robin

Content: Gender neutral reader as always. Lots of fluff here! 

Notes* I NEVER POSTED THIS??? I WROTE THIS IN THE BEGINNING WEEK OF MY BLOG??

Smoker

Smoker loves to be affectionate with you. He’s most comfortable when he’s able to touch you in one way or another, and he most definitely will keep you trapped in his arms for as long as he can get once you’re there

He’s not shy in telling people you’re his person, but he also isn’t very comfortable being too lovey in public

He’s got an image to maintain as a Marine soldier, and he’d rather not have you shadowing him on the job both for his own focus and for your safety

The exception is if you crossed paths while he’s on his patrol around town, of course. He’ll light up when he sees you and ask what you’re doing out, and after a quick conversation he’d be just fine kissing you good-bye and promising to see you later. Tashigi makes a comment at how his cheeks have a tint to them, and he’ll grumble something under his breath along the lines of ‘stop talking’

If you’re in public and he’s off the job, he’s got no problem holding your hand as you walk together, kissing your cheek or sitting close together to share a drink

All that to say moderate PDA is fine

Smoker’s favorite way to show affection is to lie on the couch with you with you on top, head on his chest while he plays with your hair or rubs your back- whatever you’re more comfortable with

Of course he also loves to kiss you anywhere and everywhere he can get. Cheeks, especially

He peppering you with kisses and watching you laugh and try to squirm away from him

He’ll get super embarrassed if you two get caught, though

Corazon

Cora is also someone who is very affectionate with his partner, so much so that they are usually covered in lipstick smudges

His favorite spots to kiss are your nose, lips and neck and they are usually stained with his signature colour

He has definitely taken you down with him a few times while trying to give you kisses

Neither of you is really sure how you two ended up toppling over while you weren’t even moving

He’s not shy to show you off to people, either. Unlike Smoker, he doesn’t care who knows about your relationship

But years of living with a certain someone’s attitude has made him wary

Cora pours his heart and soul into the people he loves, and he doesn’t like to share

He knows all too well the manipulation tactics his brother could impose on you to make you feel bad, or worse- to sway you into his arms instead

I fully believe Doffy would steal Cora’s partners. I haven’t seen Cora’s episodes yet so who knows how accurate this is but I’m sticking to it

Cora is extremely possessive over you. So being publicly affectionate with you only comforts him in knowing that everyone believes you’re his

His favorite thing to do is to pick you up, your legs wrapped around his torso, pressing kisses all over you

It doesn’t happen often with how many times he’s dropped you or himself, though

Corazon would love surprise kisses

When you’re alone, he’ll ramble on and on about how he feels about you, all sorts of sweet things

Robin

Robin is not shy about giving you affection, but she is classy with it

With her Devil Fruit powers, she can reach you anywhere to hold your hand or give you some sweet touches

Her preferred method of showing you love, in her motherly fashion, is to gently caress your cheek with the back of her hand

She’ll also keep an arm around your waist or shoulders, knowing how the feeling of being held is comforting to you

She’s comfortable giving you quick kisses and loving words in front of the crew, but in a public setting- especially when you’re all new to the area, she’ll go as far as holding your hand and that’s about it

The best time to give her affection is while you’re out on the sea

Lazy days in the sun, just sitting together while she reads, your head in her lap while she swipes her thumb over your cheek in soft, slow motions

It would be very easy to fall asleep there if it weren’t for the chaos of the rest of the crew

Robin will welcome affection anytime, too. No matter what she’s doing on the ship, as long as she’s in a good mood, if you sneak up behind her and wrap your arms around her or lean down to kiss her cheek in passing, she’ll always end up smiling to herself 

Robin isn’t used to being treated kindly- at least in a physical sense. It took her forever to learn to trust the crew to that point, and a little longer with you because of how intimate your relationship was. So having gotten to this point where you two are happily able to share these precious moments is very important to her

[chiiyuuvv]

fuma as a crush and bf ₊˚ෆ

crush/bf!fuma x fem!reader 0.7k words requested!

▸ 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺?

When fuma has a crush on you, he’d..

(♡•♡) give you small smiles whenever you enter the room, whenever you open your mouth to speak, whenever you make eye contact.. It’s just his way of saying hello without sounding like an idiot. 

(♡•♡) stutter whenever you talk to him. It’s part of the reason why he likes to stick to small smiles. Not because he hates your presence, he just hates the fact that he stutters so much around you, his cheeks burning red as he bats his eyes to the floor, finding his shoes extra shiny

(♡•♡) be protective over you. He likes to call himself subtle, but anyone walking by can see the glares he gives to men when they try to even take a glance at you. You don’t know it yet, but you’re his girl, so no one is going to be looking at you in any type of way >:(

(♡•♡) follow you like a lost puppy. Or should I say, “she said she likes this, so I’m going to do the same thing” knowing good and well he despises whatever action you’re doing. If you decide to put bows in his hair, he’d be cringing on the inside, but hey, at least you’re happy 🤷‍♀️

(♡•♡) confess when you’re trapped inside a run down elevator. Usually fuma would like to keep his feelings to himself, but he hates when he begins to second guess the situation, thinking about all the possible ways something could go wrong. It limits him from being happy, and he hates feeling trapped inside a box. So as you’re sitting there in silence, he’d randomly blurt out the feelings he’s been holding back, finally able to get them off his chest. He doesn’t expect you to like him back, so to say he was a little shocked when you got up and kissed him was an understatement. 

When you’re dating fuma, he’d..

♥‿♥ want to go grocery shopping together! He’d insist on carrying all the baskets and paying for all your purchases, your only job is to point at the things you want so he can get them for you. Likes to socialize when waiting in the checkout line, his arm wrapped around your waist while he pushes your head to his shoulder; he’s not exactly a pda type of guy, but he does crave your warmth from time to time :3

♥‿♥ put his hand on your thigh whenever you’re in a dinner setting. This isn’t to rile you up in any type of way, just like a comforting reminder, chanting the words, “I’m here,” if you somehow manage to forget. He’d also feed you snacks if you’re out on a picnic or something. It honestly reminds me of High School Musical, the scene where Troy and Gabriella are trying to throw grapes into each other's mouths. It’s romantic yet silly, something fuma cherishes.

♥‿♥ want you to go to the gym with him. You don’t even have to work out, he just likes it when you’re watching him do his form. He feels powerful almost, knowing he’s the reason why you drool, which keeps him motivated to do better 😋

♥‿♥ be your #1 supporter. Like I said before, fuma doesn’t like being trapped inside a box, so he’d encourage himself to step out of his shell and face his fears, the same goes for you. He understands why you’re scared, but he wants you to understand that he will be with you every step of the way. When you finally face your fear, fuma would be so proud of you, spending the rest of the day (or week (or month)) spoiling you, celebrating your victory. And if you didn’t, fuma would console you, because at least you tried your hardest, you know?

♥‿♥ nag at you. Fuma is not only your boyfriend.. He’s your mother atp. Nags at you for going outside without a jacket. Nags at you for staying inside and playing pokemon all day. Nags at you for refusing to eat your vegetables – he’d give you one stern look, and right then and there did you know that you messed up. He doesn’t want to seem mean, but he wants you to take care of your health is all :(( 

︴bonus! @kehnarii, i told you were thoughts were in good hands!!

▸ taglist 🎧 @starryriize , @cherrycolaberry , @kehnarii , @wtfisgoingright

🎬 navi

@chiiyuuvv on tumblr . do not steal works/headers/line dividers

[haveihitanerve]

I request Bruce chasing his children down to put on scarves and gloves in the cold ass winter of New Jersey because despite being some of the strongest people (martial arts wise) on earth, they refuse to believe in cold temperatures and keep getting sick.

refuse to believe in cold temperatures is my new favorite sentence

anyway your wish is my command-

Kevin did not know what he was expecting to see on a Friday night at three am, but it was certainly not Nightwing and the fucking Red Hood running as fast as their legs could possibly carry them as the Batman chased after them, holding scarves and gloves in his hands.

He reached them just before they could round the corner and Kevin watched in amazement as Batman forced the gloves onto the two grown men who squirmed like five year olds.

"Don't-! wanna!" Red Hood screamed petulantly, trying very hard to escape the Bats grasp. "Your brother already has a cold!" Batman snarled back, winding a scarf around his head like he was trying to choke him.

"He doesn't have a spleen!" Nightwing argued, attempting to pull off the gloves that seemed to have some sort of suctioning power and would not budge. "They come off when its not cold. So finish patrol with them." Batman offered them both a sweet smile before grappling away before they could hit him with snowballs.

It was, probably, most arguably, the craziest shit he'd ever seen, and he lived in Gotham and got robbed by dudes wearing purple and green and asked questions before ordering their coffee.

And then it happened again. This time he was staying with his brother on the other side of town, when Orphan and Spoiler showed up. Neither seemed to be particularly cold, but Kevin remembered vividly how he and his siblings used to pretend "no its not cold!" to their mother because they had made such a fuss before but it really super was cold.

And then Batman showed up. Orphan melted into the shadows and Spoiler made eye contact with Kevin, flying across the street in an instant and pushing past him inside the apartment. His brother, wide eyed on the couch, looked between them.

"I'm not here." Spoiler hissed, forming an X with her arms. "I'm not here!" She ducked behind the couch just as Batman landed on the balcony and Kevin, he was raised in Gotham man, but he still flinched.

"Sorry," Batman grumbled, voice rough and low and also a little pouty. "I know she's inside. This won't take long." He stepped off the railing onto the balcony, but Kevin, telling his fear and survival instinct to fuck off, stepped in his way.

"She's uh- she? There's no she in our building sir. Believe me, we've tried." He swallowed, looking up into those endless white slits. The slits narrowed, and he turned to look inside. Brad was pale, but his brother, bless his heart, lifted his beer in a salute at the bat, before turning back to face the TV.

Batman looked about two seconds away from not being apologetic and screaming, but he finally gave a nod to Kevin and hopped off the balcony. Kevin didn't even bother to watch him hit the ground, because he knew he wouldn't, and cracked open the door instead.

"He's gone-" Spoiler poked her head over the couch hissing, "NO!" but it was too late. Batman appeared, one hand flinging him back up onto the balcony, and he was past Kevin before he even had a chance to scream, tackling Spoiler to the ground.

"I! Don't! Need it!!!" She screamed, struggling against him as he pinned her down, panting, legs trapping her lower body as his hands snagged her hands. "It's... for- your.. own good!" He grunted, pinning her hands down with one finally.

And as Kevin watched her buck, fruitlessly, and watched Batman slide gloves onto her hands and wrap a scarf around her neck, not effortlessly, he realized just how much of a threat Batman truly was. Sure, he had seen the Bats in action, and everyone knew the Bats were trained and raised by Batman, but he had never actually seen Batman work.

Old friends, goons, told him how he skilled, how efficient, how brutal he could be. But Kevin had laughed it off as propaganda, as some more bolstering of the Bats ego's. But now...

Batman's work wasn't effortless. Spoiler was fighting him every step of the way. But he wasn't struggling either, moving quickly, but also carefully, his hips pressing down enough to keep her still but not enough to hurt, hands pinning hers down but not enough to bruise....

Kevin knew Batman didn't kill. But he had never considered the amount of strength, precision, capability, it required. Not killing over killing had always seemed, to him, to be the easier thing. Not anymore.

Batman finished his work, standing and lifting Spoiler in one swift movement, and hauled her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She had stopped struggling at this point, and Kevin was fairly certain she was just hitting him because she could. Because she wanted to. The look on Batman's face revealed he was aware of it too.

"Thank you for protecting her." He growled, voice low but not hard. At that, Spoiler finally stilled. Kevin blinked in surprise. That was not what he had been expecting. He didn't know what, exactly, he had been, but a thank you was nowhere on his bingo card.

"N-no problem." Brad stuttered out when it was clear Kevin couldn't answer. Batman nodded to the both and left, setting Spoiler down on the balcony next to him, and wrapped his cape around her shoulders, murmuring something in her ear. She laughed, then stuck her tongue out at him, but Kevin noted how she leaned closer, wrapped herself in the warmth he provided.

Orphan materialized at their side and Batman tugged her to his side too, muttering something that sounded like admitting defeat, and Spoiler fist pumped, high fiving her. Orphan grinned and Batman rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around both of their shoulders and jumping. This time, Kevin watched until they disappeared.

[circeyoru]

(UNWANTED SOUL idea) when reader gets turned to an angle instead of being stuck in heaven they immediately return via their page teleportation. So no angsty alastor for more than 5 min. But they teleported right behind Adam and we're the one to kill him much to alastors delight and everyone else's confusion.

Later on alastor is learning to take care of the readers wings since reader forgets they have them and let's them fall to disreapare.

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}. *Check the redeem you ones

Okay, no angst. Err... Maybe a bit, just a touch

I'll bet that Alastor was crushed when he saw you disappear into thin air. Not the type where you teleport elsewhere to avoid him, but actually disappear, gone, dead. When his soul was returned to him and his limitations all gone. He wrathfully unleashed at Adam.

Somehow I feel like Alastor using his full power will have massive pressure and tension built the closer one's to him. Within that less than 5 minutes, let's say Alastor singlehandedly got the barrier up again and slaughtered any and all angels that come into his perimeter. Charlie and the others all felt the surge in Alastor's power and pressure, immediately heading towards him to see what was happening since their stations were all cleared thanks to Alastor.

To counter Alastor, Adam used more power as well. In the end, Alastor was still no match but unlike in the show, he doesn't back down because you were gone. In his mind, that memory kept replaying, there was two option for him: either kill Adam or die trying.

When the Charlie and the other made it to Alastor's battlefield, they shouted for him to stop and retreat because he was at a disadvantage the more he fights. He was clearly losing that charisma he had at the start of the battle.

"Stay out of this, Charlie." Alastor threatened the moment he saw her step closer.

Adam laughed, "Aww, did I kill your little crush? Too bad. Demons like you don't deserve happiness."

Charlie and the others all wondered what Adam was talking about; Alastor was obviously triggered again as he headfirst into Adam for another more personal attack. An obvious trap that cornered Alastor.

With his axe positioned to Alastor's neck, Adam stared down with a victorious grin, "Time to meet your little babe, right?"

Alastor let down his barrier, he couldn't explain why, but he just did it. Like a voice told him so or a feeling of a familiar presence.

The moment he did, the abandoned book you always bring around opened itself and the pages flew at Adam. Confusing him. He backed up and away from Alastor, trying to swat away the pages that were coming at him like mad.

A new figure emerged, two pairs of silver wings and a bright halo was the only thing Alastor could see. Though his sight was more focused on the way one of the pages sliced Adam's head off of his neck like butter. Alastor's red eyes followed the rolling head and falling body. With a tired back, he looked up at the figure.

"My... Dar....ling?"

"Yes, Alastor." You stepped closer to him, your pages fluttering around like harmless petals now, you kneeled down and gave him a hug as gently as possible to not put pressure on his pain.

"You're... back..." Alastor wrapped his hands around you to bring him closer to you, his body shook. "Am I... Is this... a dre...am?"

Your wings instinctively wrapped around him, glowing as they healed your wounded love. For the brief moment you had your new angelic powers, you were already using them like you had him your entire life. "No, Alastor. It's not a dream."

"Stay with me... Don't leave... me..."

You smiled, "I won't, Alastor. I'll miss you too much."

-------

Yes! An exact echo. Remember how in part 2 (I think) you tell him you missed him before entering your slumber mode? Yeah, it's happening here too.

The reason why I gave Reader/you two pairs of wings here is cause it shows power and authority. If you're not trapped as long as you were before, then something has to change, and that is your power and authority over the exterminations or specifically portal to Hell. Here, you're an angel that controls the entrance to Heaven and Hell. Think guardian, like that~

[qvrcll]

suggestive + fluff

swimming with snow would entail quite a number of things:

he’s a touchy-feely sort of person. very intelligent when manoeuvring up and around you, allowing him just enough space to invade yours. he’s sneaky about it too - a palm resting against your belly (oddly warm and soft in its receive when it rubs affectionately against you), fingers that tickle at your sides, arms that tuck against you like vices rather than just tendons. when you smile at it, bring it up, tell him to quit it, he’s only likely to be more encouraged.

the first to offer you a towel to wrap yourself up when you get the chance. he’ll be all nonchalant about it too, a swipe of a glance and his hand extended bearing the soft material, letting out a little “here you go,” when really, he’s rebounding against every move in his head like chess. wondering whether you think he’s a fool, whether the towel would catch fire and burn, whether you would even appreciate the sentiment. but as soon as you’re curving into that smile you always give him, his worries are scattered. but, wait, is that a sneaky hand that nests against your shoulder?

he likes to hang back and observe you like he is absent within the moment. expect him to sit behind you whilst you converse with the others that have joined you, resting his cheek against the back of you, kissing the soft, wet flesh occasionally. a bit of a starer too - takes little shame in setting his eyes on you. your lips? he’s already flitting down towards them with more than a breath. your eyes? he has yet to break contact. your neck? beware, he’s beginning to grow antsy without kissing it till the skin starts to fester.

he’d be so annoying with this but loved to loop his finger through your bathing suit and stretch it out, before letting it band and snap against your skin. nothing too much to hurt, but enough for you to to squeal at. he likes to believe that he does it for the sole purpose of aggravating you, but really, he enjoys the little noises you let up too. the way you whine at him, tell him to stop because it hurts so much (it doesn’t, the effect of it is what you desire), the little frown that pulls at your face as your eyes pool with faux anger. a droll lick of fire he finds comical above all things else. when he’s got you on tenterhooks, almost avoiding him out of luck, to get out of his grasp, he’ll pull you back into his chest and kiss his way into an apology. really, it’s all too easy. the heat of the sun working your front as he works the string of your swim top between two lousy fingers - and there’s nothing but the scrape of sand to keep him quite as cool.

does this harrowing little move where whenever he gets out of the water, he’ll inch his way towards you slowly when you’re least on your guard. when he’s close, he’ll clinch his palms around your ankles and pull. pull, not with decency, but instead, he’ll play the dirty game, where he uses all of his strength and get you under him in a swipe. likes it when you giggle, he says, or squeal when his arm swipes against your own and you can see just how much bigger he is in comparison to you (his biceps come as hulking pieces of meat to your eye, curved and powerful) or if his thighs unintentionally come forward to trap your own in between them, digging into the sand as his dog tags coldly dangle against your neck with a blurring ache. no need to quieten, no one is watching.

refuses to divulge into this particular secret but loves kissing you when you’ve both been deep into the water, where your kisses are practically marred with the salty brine of the waves. when he kisses, its like he’s been starved of that, too. all hungry, consuming, when his lips work against yours in quick succession, marking them with little bruises where he doesn’t see it fit to stop. but when you’ve both been swimming? salt enters the equation. a bitter tinge in your mouth and he’s keening for the taste of the bitter mineral slotted against your mouth. it’s like something primal to him and a bitter thing, that he will take to the grave.

© 2023 qvrcll. do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[i-love-your-shadows-baby]

Issues

Azriel x Reader

Notes: Elain bashing because Nesta is better. This is my first ever fic, so I know that it is rushed and choppy.

**Angsty, implied sex, language**

Living in Velaris, or 'The City of Starlight' as most call it, is a dream. I've been here going on 200 years. I moved from Autumn court when I made good friends with Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. I've loved every second of my life here. The 50 years without Rhys were tough, but of all the places to be trapped...

I felt horrible trying to be happy while Rhys was enslaved to she who may not be named. Vile bitch she was, but now he is back. With his mate in tow no less. I am so incredibly happy for him. He deserves every second with her. I know how it feels to find your mate. Rhys introduced me to mine. His very own Spymaster, Azriel. The most beautiful man to ever walk, fly, talk, breathe. The perfect mate who never lets a day go by without letting me know how cherished I am. He is also my anchor. The power that I wield within me is a raging fire that I am still struggling to control. The fire fuels my emotions which can get out of hand fast if I don't get myself in check. One touch from my mate though, I'm instantly soothed. His shadows wrap around me like a soft, cooling blanket.

Unfortunately, with recent events, my poor mate has had to do this regularly. With Rhys sending him on extremely dangerous missions where he comes home tired and bloody to Elain, Feyre's sister, flirting with him right in front of me. I'm not jealous, but the fucking disrespect is enough to enrage me. One night though.... I had had enough.

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

I was in the library with Nesta reading. We liked to read books and gush over them later. Specifically, scenarios we would like to play out with our oh so willing mates. I paused when I felt a pull on the bond letting me know Az was back from his recent mission.

"To be continued." I sang to Nesta who just nodded her head in acknowledgement and kept reading.

*Where are you my love?* I sent down the bond. *In the garden* He sent back.

I all but ran to the garden. I had missed my mate dearly. Nesta and I's previous conversation not helping the situation at all.

When I stepped into the garden, I saw Azriel with a small, thoughtful smile on his beautiful face. A flower behind his ear, but not just any flower. A red camellia. The same flower that decorated our bed the night we consummated our bond. The flower that represents our love.

Thinking he was reminiscing about us, I made my way slowly to try and surprise him (it's the thought that counts, you can't sneak up on a Spymaster, let alone a Shadowsinger.) His shadows were immediately swirling around me in greeting. When I drew closer, hidden behind the ornate fountain was Elain. She was holding the red camellias in her hands that were extended towards Azriel. I know he knew the meaning behind that flower, and I'm well aware she did too.

Burning rage took over me at the look on her face. Completely infatuated with my mate with those damned flowers in her hand. How dare she make a move like this on my mate. She has Lucien to ogle over and give flowers to. Where the fuck was he? The shadows sensing my irritation started swirling faster with a slight vibration.

I closed in on them and Azriel felt my fury through the bond as a hiss left my mouth. He turned to me wide-eyed, confused as to why I was so furious. That just seemed to piss me off more. The shadows were trying to sooth me, but failed. My hands were shaking, trying to leash my power that was begging to be let out. Begging to blast this bitch where she stood.

"Hey kitten, what got you so worked up?" Azriel said worriedly using the pet name I loved so much.

I was too focused on the flowers in his hands that he had accepted to respond. I looked up into his beautiful hazel eyes with a tight smile.

"What beautiful flowers, love," I said with every ounce of sarcasm I could muster up, "They express ones love and desire to another."

I reached for the flower behind his ear. His brows furrow slightly as I turn toward Elain. Her breath hitched; she knew she'd been caught. She looked slightly terrified. Good. "And just what the fuck do you think you're doing? What are you trying to achieve here?" Elain just stared at me. Not moving, not blinking. "Did you think you were smart? That I wouldn't know what the intent of giving these flowers is?" She still just stared at me. "ANSWER ME!!" I snarled at her. Elain yelped and looked to Azriel for help. I let out a low growl. My control slowly waning.

I felt Azriel's shock through the bond. I glanced over to him to see him looking between me, the flowers, and Elain. "Elain...." Azriel said hesitantly.

"I love you, Azriel!" Elain shouted, "I don't want to marry Lucien, I don't love him! I want you; I love you! Remember that night...that night you held me when I was crying about how unfair everything was? How I didn't ask for any of this! You consoled me and I felt something between us. I know that something is there! Just because you have a mate, doesn't mean you have to love them! I know that! I'm trying to make you see that too!" Elain fell to her knees crying.

What a sad, delusional, dramatic witch. Hearing her insinuate that there was something between them, that she could convince him to leave me was my breaking point. My control snapped. A roaring sound that I have never heard myself make before reached my ears as I lunged for her. She tripped and fell to the ground trying to get away. I grabbed her hair and yanked her head back to look at me. "I am going to kill you. You are absolutely fucking delusional. You know that? To think my mate would actually leave me for you?!? YOU?!? You're not pretty enough to be that fucking stupid." Azriel tried to touch me, but my skin was searing hot. His shadows weren't having any luck either. I could smell Elain's hair burning in my grasp. My other hand was going for her throat. I was going to watch my hand slowly burn through her neck until she was no longer living.

Right before my hand made contact, I felt Azriel wrap himself around me. His giant wings pushing Elain away, her hair still attached to my hand. I started thrashing in his hold, and my bloodlust not yet quenched. I kept thrashing until I felt a searing pain through the bond. I was hurting him... My skin was so hot that I was burning him! I immediately stopped and turned into him. His face was scrunched up in pain, burns on his arms and chest.

"Azriel....Az...Oh my...what fuck did I do...Az...I- I'm so sorry" Tears flooded my vision as I looked at him. My mate. My beautiful mate. My mate, who dislikes fire because of what it could do...what it DID to him... He was already starting to heal, but the damage was done. I told him he'd never have to worry about my fire, that I would never hurt him. Not after he told me what happened when he was just a child. But here we are...In that exact situation.

I hated myself. Hated how I let this stupid power control my emotions so strongly. My hands shook as I reached out to touch him. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry...I-I didn't mean to...I hurt you...Oh god, I'm so sorry!"

"Shhh, it's okay. I'm here, I'm fine. Baby, shhh, I'm fine. " Azriel tried to console me, but I didn't deserve that. I shouldn't be so easily forgiven. I know I'll never forgive myself. I tried to step away, but he grabbed me and brought me into his chest. Arms wrapped tightly around me, burns completely healed. I was sobbing and shaking in his arms. Babbling 'I'm sorrys' mind completely empty besides the fact that I hurt him. Azriel picked me up, and we disappeared into the shadows. Leaving Elain by herself.

He took us to our bedroom. I felt him sit on our bed. I moved to straddle him, put my face on his shoulder, and held him. He put his hands on my hips and rubbed his thumbs in circles to sooth me. It had never gone that far before. I've never snapped like that. I was too ashamed to lift my head and look at him.

He shifted under me. "Baby....kitten, look at me..." Not being in the right head space to deny him, I lifted my head and looked into his eyes. They were so filled with love but also concern. Seeing that made the tears come again. "Hey, hey, none of that, okay. I'm fine, we're fine." He whispered. His hands as well as the shadows were caressing me.

"I'm sorry, Az. I didn't mean for you to get hurt. I promised you that I would never...I promised that you would never feel my fire." "I know, kitten. You didn't hurt me. I'm fine, see?" Azriel held his arms out, "All fine, now... I know Elain gets to you sometimes, and I know the meaning of the flowers. What I don't know is what made you erupt like that." I bit my lip and looked back down. His fingers caught my chin and lifted my gaze to his.

"Kitten...." I knew that tone, knew that I needed to listen. "We accepted our mating bond with those flowers. We made love on a bed with the petals of that flower underneath us. Our house is decorated with those flowers. They symbolize our love, our bond. Seeing her give you those flowers and you accepting them....It made me...I didn't want you to start thinking of her when you saw them. Now you definitely will because this mess. It's stupid, I know."

"It's not." Azriel interrupted, "It's not, but kitten, you were the only thing that I was thinking about when she handed me those flowers. About our bond and our month-long mating frenzy." he got a twinkle in his eye and smirked at the ping of arousal he felt shoot through me at the thought of all the ways he took me during our frenzy. All the things he and his shadows made me experience.

"It may have looked different from an outsiders' point of view, and it took me a second to react to everything. I was so shocked by the fury I felt through the bond." I leaned my forehead against his. "I'm sorry." I breathed. "I'm really going to try and get better at controlling how much my power affects my emotions. I'll see someone if I have to. I don't want anything like this happening again."

Azriel hummed in agreement. A strange look taking over his face. "We will figure that out later. Right now, Rhys is requesting our presence." I gulped and looked at him. "I don't know if I can face him right now. I'm still a little too worked up." I gave my mate a heated stare. "Think you can fuck it out of me before we see him?"

He chuckled darkly, his shadows already untying my dress. "Oh kitten, I'm going to do so much more than that."

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Canvas of imagination (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: On the eve of Rhaenyra's wedding, Daemon decides the best gift he can give to the father of the bride is a dreamer. A shame said dreamer does not seem to share the joy of the occasion.

Warnings: Kidnapping. Period typical misogyny. Violence. Unflattering depiction of characters (You might hate me for this)

A/N: Remember please, Daemon is an unreliable narrator. Here is where things start to get dark. I researched genetics for this and ended up really insecure. Read the previous part here.

There are many ways of silencing women. Murder is, of course, one. It’s not an elegant solution, but it is an effective one. It ensures the victim takes her secrets to the grave. Daemon likes to think himself more elegant than that.

There is, too, the possibility of a ruined reputation. But that strategy is one that is only effective towards women of a certain standing. You can hardly ruin what are already damaged goods, and a bastard certainly counts as damaged goods.

Daemon still could chuck you off Caraxes mid-flight. Yet, it does not seem like a good idea, either. Each one of your servants saw you get chained to his saddle. Not even Viserys’s intervention could save him from the angry mob of commoners that would await his return to the Vale.

Besides, he likes you there, mounted on his dragon. For once, quiet, too scared of screaming and disturbing Caraxes. Daemon likes the lack of noise, but he likes your presence much more. It would be foolish to silence a dreamer forever.

You need other kinds of chains. To tie you to him. Silencing you, when he does not want to hear. One often used for Targaryen women.

Marriage. A Bronze Bitch for another. But not exactly, is it? Not if you can truly see the future.

Perhaps this was meant to happen, then. As a way of honoring his ancestors. Grabbing a pretty maid, one with Valyrian gifts and…

Well. Children are another kind of chain, right? He is still not sold on the perks of bedding you. You are wrong. Too dark, too different. Nothing like Rhaenyra, and slightly older than her. But Daemon knows the children you will birth him will be strong. The gift on you is, after all.

To be able to look so far into the future speaks of a power unseen before. Targaryens have not been blessed by many dreamers in the last generations, and the few times they were, their gifts were fickle and weak. Not far enough to allow them to see further than days. The last time someone was able to look further was in the age of Aegon the Conqueror.

It must mean Valyrian descent. Nothing else is an acceptable answer. Even if you don’t look it.

Daemon mounts behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You feel soft in his arms. Perhaps bedding you will not be as bad. He had been afraid that you would be like Rhea. Those inquisitive eyes of her, the body as hard as the body of any man. They were not features he enjoyed on a female partner. It always turned him off.

It was not that he had refused to consummate the marriage. He wasn’t able to bed her, the awful bitch. Not only were her features off-putting, but her attitude. She was constantly trying to sit on his hips, push him down, and he couldn’t stand it. Daemon felt trapped. Emasculated.

He had to chase the shame, the powerlessness away, somehow. That was how he got started fucking whores, collecting maidenheads. It was much better when women were maidens. Easier. He likes the contrasts, Daemon has realized. Half women, half children are always more entertaining to play with.

You are not Rhea. You feel different in his arms. Your body is soft, all sweet limbs. There are no harsh muscles on your arms, and you smell like fresh baked pastries. Rhea always smelled of horse.

You are a girl, not a warrior like your sister was. Yet, you share her wild spirit. All the delicious curves of womanhood are already formed, a delicious pair of tits and hips that could drive any man to insanity.

Your parentage is a bit more undesirable, though. As the daughter of a whore, your innocence could be sullied. Daemon would have to ask if you were passed around when younger. He doubted it, but just in case. If you had not, bedding you would be the most fun he had in years. Open-minded, hot-blooded, but pure. It was not often you found that in a woman.

You try to squirm, but are too well bound. Getting too comfortable for his liking.

“Soves. ” He orders. Caraxes obeys. You shriek in terror, and Daemon hugs you harder against him. That, too, he likes. The helplessness, the honest reaction of someone who was denied her birthright. The amazement, once you settle down and notice that Caraxes will not drop you.

Riding Caraxes is always a thrill. It’s even more thrilling when he has a captive audience. There is something about it that does it for him. Showing others the might of true Targaryens always makes him proud.

He wants to show you all the things you have missed, being born of a whore and a Royce. It’s clear you don’t belong here, among the bronze piles of the Vale. You belong with him, on dragonback. And no one is taking you away from him.

The servants, your servants, according to the Bronze Bitch’s will, can only watch as the dragon rises in the air. No one dares deny Targaryens anything, not when faced with the truth of their strength.

Daemon perches his chin right on top of your head, so close his chest is flush with your back. Your screams do not bother him. You might be terrified, after a life spent living on the ground. But Targaryens are born to be in the skies. You will get used to it.

“Oh, Lady Cuffs, you have much to learn.” He kisses your temple, once you have screamed your throat raw and finally quieted down.

The first time he had ridden Caraxes, Daemon had, too, screamed until his voice gave. He had thought back then, like many Targaryens did, that if his egg didn’t hatch, he would get no dragon. The moment is clear in his memory. Heart beating loud in his chest, screaming commands in High Valyrian, and the absolute certainty that Caraxes was going to burn him to a crisp. Then, as he came down from sheer terror to amazement, he understood why his egg didn’t hatch.

It was a lesson. To take what he wanted, what was his by right. Targaryens were conquerors, not whiny children. It was what had got him thinking about Lady Laena, in the first place. The amount of confidence one needed to claim a dragon that big, it spoke of a power within.

Not as yours was, of course. You may lack the confidence, but you had power in spades. Dreamers were often like that. Or they were supposed to be, according to his studies. Daenys had been. A fragile little thing, scared of shadows and set on leaving Valyria behind. It had been what saved them, in the end.

Daemon wonders what it must be like to be haunted by terrors in your sleep. Some real, some imagined. How could one possible tell the difference between the two? It would lead a fragile mind to insanity.

What had it done to you? Seeing your sister’s death, thinking it a nightmare, and then watch it come to life in front of your eyes?

Fear. Horror. A cornered animal reaction, wanting to fight an opponent that could crush you like a bug if he so wished. Your loyalty to Rhea was commendable, though.

The thought of you having to go through that makes him uncomfortable. Something about the death of a sibling upsets him. Viserys. Oh, Viserys. Can’t live with him, but can’t live without him, either.

No. He needs a distraction. He is not willing to go down that road now.

“Dracarys!” Daemon screams, fighting to project his voice over the wind. As expected, you flinch and let out a tiny scream. He hides his smirk in your hair. He wonders if you would squeal like that when he took you.

A bit of fear makes for a better fuck. Lovers tend to turn pliant in the face of pain. Women's cunts flutter delightfully when choked. And you are already so responsive.

“This cannot be happening.” You mutter, under your breath. Your voice sounds small and confused. Lost. “This defies all the laws.”

“Targaryens have married sisters before,” Daemon speaks over your ear. Despite knowing that's not how dreamers work, he can't help but taunt you. It's amusing to him, how you struggle and huff. “You must have seen this already. You will make a good wife, in time.”

“I am not a dreamer!” You scream, and if he could see your face now, he would bet you are scowling. It matters not, really. Whatever you say. You would do anything to get him to let you go.

Daemon knows the truth. He has done his investigation about you. It would be no good, if he were mistaken and presented Viserys with something less. His good gesture would be ruined.

You would earn him his forgiveness. Daemon is willing to share you with Viserys, if that's what Viserys wants. He wants to keep you, so Daemon wouldn't gift you to him. But share you? It's a good gesture to show the honesty of his words.

Let it not be said that Daemon Targaryen is not humble in victory.

“Deny it all you want.” Daemon turns a finger over the middle of your back, making you shiver and try to move away from the touch. Oh, such a fierce spirit. A shame it's wasted, with how well you are tied to the saddle. “You have some Valyrian blood in you.”

“I do not!” You scream, and tilt your head to the side to glare at him. You have pretty eyes and the most enchanting nose. Closer to a goddess than a woman. How can you not be a Targaryen?

Your hair is the wrong shade. So are your eyes. But most of the time, First Men features overpower Targaryen ones. Dammed your father. Useless rat, that Yohn Royce. But at least he had given him you.

“You will birth me silver haired babes.” Daemon can do the math. With you being half Valyrian, the odds of you giving him what he wants are higher. He places his hand on your stomach, sneaking it behind the apron and touching the soft linen dress you wear.

Daemon imagines what it will be like, to see you swell with his child. The skin over your womb is warm and soft. You are young, closer to Rhaenyra's age than his. You look healthy and strong. A good environment for a child to grow in. And by the look of your bosom, you would produce good milk, too.

The thought makes him suddenly hungry. His cock twitches in interest. Ah. Good to know that your coloring won’t bring forth the same performance issues Rhea’s had.

This time, you squirm harder. Your ass rolls against his hips. Daemon rolls his hips against you, delighting in the friction. "Oh, you temptress.” He laughs.

He can't wait to have you, pinned under him and forcing you to take and take until his seed breeds true. How you would struggle, hips trying to escape him before surrendering to the sheer pleasure of it all.

“You are disgusting!” You buck against him, all wild mare. You have yet to be mounted and it shows. He bets once he does, you will be all sweet. Daemon is not cruel enough to deny you the pleasure. But you seem upset, and so he tries to reassure you.

“Just think, how strong, how true our children will be. With the blood of Old Valyria, flowing through their veins.”

It seems like the thought is not as reassuring for you as it is for him, since you start tearing up. He will have to tread more carefully. It’s clear your time with the Bronze Bitch has affected you. Perhaps, too, growing up in a whore’s house. You must have some strange ideas of women not needing marriage, or men, to lead their lives.

It was good, that Rhea got you when she had. You could have been sold or auctioned like any other woman. Taken up the profession of your mother. But you hadn’t. He knows it by the way you flinch, when he trails his hands over your ribs, when he presses his lips to your temple. Whores are used to touches like those. They melt into them. Not you.

“I’m not Valyrian!” You scream, trashing. Daemon smooths your hair down, tenderly. Perhaps this will soften you, he thinks. Many bastards share the longing for learning about their origins, after all. You should be no different.

“Your mother was, though.”

“What? No, she wasn't!” Your shrill tone makes him flinch. Gods, what a pair of lungs you have. And you are so set on disguising your origins, too. As if Daemon can’t tell. As if he can’t recognize one of his own when he sees them.

“I asked the servants about you.” He squeezes your shoulder, trying to sound encouraging. He wonders what it must be like, to carry so deep a shame you are set on denying the obvious. If Daemon had been born of a whore, without his Targaryen blood, he would be ashamed too. “They said you bathed every day. Only whores do that. And you don’t keep male company.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Your voice comes out high and questioning, confused. Oh, his poor, sheltered girl. Thinking your behavior was normal.

“You must have learned it somewhere.” He brushes his thumb against the shell of your ear. It’s a tiny thing, and soft. You give a sweet shiver, and it confirms his suspicions. You have not been touched in such a way before. Not a whore. Only the daughter of one. "Your father was said to frequent a brothel in King’s Landing, one that I’m well acquainted with. They only have Valyrian stock.”

You splutter, and whip your head to the side. You are not allowed much movement, with your binds. But gods, you try. The sliver of your face he can see is twisted in righteous anger. Similar to when he confessed to finishing the Bronze Bitch.

“Stock? How can you refer to women like that!” And it comes out so righteous, so fierce. His little warrior. Yes, it’s clear he is right about your origins. No one else would launch themselves in such a passionate defense of whores. A shame, he can’t seem to resist to riling you up.

“Oh, I have much lovelier names for women. I called your sister the Bronze Bitch.”

You let out a fierce little scream, now bucking and twisting and shifting, trying to get any kind of retribution for the slight. What a joy you must be in the sheets, all that unbridled force and passion, turning into a single objective. You just have to learn to aim it right.

“Don’t you dare speak of her like that! She is the most…” And you choke up a sob, realizing that Rhea was, not is. You do not speak the words, curling into yourself like a scared child. Hurt and sad for the first time since he took you.

“Was.” Daemon says, very quietly, and this time he is unable to distract himself from the thought. Daemon thinks of Viserys, of how angry he would be were someone to hurt him. No matter if they had parted in anger, no matter if they had not spoken a word.

He hugs you to him. You fight him, at first, but then you are sobbing too hard, too panicked to do anything about it. He presses a kiss to your nape. Even in tears and sweaty with your efforts, you smell perfect. All sweet pure maiden.

Eventually, your body sags. Daemon wonders if you accepted your fate or merely fell asleep. He doesn’t ask. The rest of the ride is uneventful. You wake up, later on, squirming in your bounds before sagging in defeat. No more words are exchanged between the two of you.

Landing is quite the interesting experience. Lyonel Strong, wearing the Hand's brooch. Next to him, stands the Kingsguard and a couple of Citywatchs.

“Is that a serving girl?” Crispin, Chris, whatever his name is, asks. He must think himself so sly, muttering under his breath.

“You were vanished.” Lyonel deadpans, eyeing you with vague interest. You scowl at him and tug on your bonds, again. Admirable persistence.

“Ah, Lyonel.” He gets off the saddle and carefully unchains you from it, making sure that your hands remain bound. Daemon keeps a tight grip on the chain from your cuffs, as he pulls you down into his arms. You kick and scream. The Kingsguard look vaguely concerned, but the gold cloaks don't even blink. They had been his men a few years back. They are used to such things.

He is not getting any younger, Daemon realizes. With you, he might need to get a better training regime because he is winded from the struggle. It's almost thrilling. You will keep him on his toes.

Daemon addresses Lyonel once again, dragging you forward.

“Summon Viserys, would you? I have something to show him.”

Good thing it’s not Otto Hightower anymore, or else he would have been detained on the spot. Lyonel is slightly softer to him, too honor-bound to let his personal feelings get in the way.

“Another of your whores?” The man asks, face unchanged. He would look at ease were it not for the way he is pressing his lips together in a grim line. No doubt remembering the Mysaria episode.

You keep struggling, rubbing your poor wrists raw. Daemon will have to tend to that later.

“Help! Help! Please!” You plead to Lyonel, once he is close enough. His lips twitch. Ah, the Strongs. Always ready to jump in rescue of a fair maiden. Your cries seem to be weakening the resolve of the Hand, and Daemon can’t have that.

Daemon places a possessive arm over your hips, showing you off. The possessive gesture will distract Lyonel from his rescue attempt, he is sure. No one gets between a Prince and his lovers, willing or not.

“No, actually. This time, the Lady is still a maiden. Although she won’t be much longer.” He smirks.

You flinch, your whole body tensing under his grip. Lyonel looks torn. He can’t order Daemon to let go of you, as for all he knows, you are but a serving girl. If you were a Lady, what he is doing might mean war. No one here cares about commoners.

Surprisingly, your rescuer is another. The dornish knight, jumping in, without the bow of his commander or the Lord Hand.

“I’ll go get the King, Lord Hand.” Good gods, what were they teaching the dornish these days? Not an ounce of respect on that one. He was getting too cocky for Daemon’s liking. He might have unseated him, but he lacked manners.

Daemon glares at Lyonel. Lyonel glares right back. The Kingsguard square behind Lyonel, menacingly, but the City Watch remains undecided on the side. Daemon grips your cuffs harder.

Crispin, Chris, whatever, comes out again after a few minutes, with an aggravated looking Viserys. You start shrieking, again, and trying harder to escape. No one pays you any mind.

“I told you I didn’t want to see you again.” Viserys says, but his eyes crinkle. He has cooled down. Daemon lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He still has everything to play for. Forgiveness is on the way.

“I think she might earn my forgiveness.” He tugs at your cuffs, bringing you slightly forward. You scowl, fiercely. “A gift, brother.”

“You come to offer me a whore? You are insane. Or drunk. Or both.” Viserys arches an eyebrow, but takes a good look at you. Daemon can’t blame him for it. You are a pretty thing, young and healthy.

Despite someone who claims offense at being offered a whore, Viserys surely looks interested. He steps closer to him, trapping you between them both. It’s Viserys, in quite the bold move, who tilts your chin up with a finger. You snarl at him, bucking backwards and right into Daemon’s chest.

“Careful. She bites. Special breed, from the Vale. All bitches.” And it’s not even funny, but it makes Viserys laugh, and that’s all that matters to him. Viserys’s laughter prompts the rest of the sycophants knights to do so as well. Only Lyonel and the dornish man remain disapproving.

“I’m quite busy at the moment, brother.” Viserys steps back, giving Daemon a long look. Unable not to twist the knife because otherwise they wouldn’t be related, he adds. “I’m in the middle of planning a wedding.”

“Ah. Congratulations are in order, then. Think of this as a wedding gift to the father of the bride.” Daemon pushes you forward, and then, insistently, to kneel. You resist, impudent little thing that you are. He pushes harder, until you kneel in front of Viserys with a sullen expression. “What better omen for a marriage than a little dreamer?”

Viserys goes suddenly serious, the hint of a smile at his antics long gone. This time, when he looks at you, his eyes are much more searching. First, to your hair. Then, your eyes. Then, to his face, incredulous.

“If this is your idea of a joke, Daemon…”

Daemon gives him a look. He would not joke about it, knowing how much Viserys has longed to be connected to that side of their heritage. He never understood it. Dreams were a powerful tool, but could be hard to differentiate from just nightmares. And what had made them conquerors had not been dreams, but dragons. That had been the part that interested him.

They had talked, once, of sharing a woman. Back when they were much younger, much less troubled. He tried to let that shine in his eyes, too. This was not something he was keeping to himself, it was a gift to his brother. If Viserys asked, Daemon would say yes in a heartbeat. Anything to make him happier. To protect him. Your dreams might not get him another kingdom, but would help keep Viserys safe and secure Rhaenyra's claim.

The silence stretched. Then, Viserys, looking absolutely fascinated and dumbfounded, stepped aside.

“Inside the throne room. Anyone else, leave us!”

As the guards scrambled to obey, Daemon tugged you inside. Viserys entered the room first, and grabbed the chain, as Daemon made sure to close the door after them. Working together with a fluidity not seen since the days of their youth.

Daemon smiled. Not even a day in your company, and you were already fixing things in the way he had wanted you to.

Viserys let go of your chain, eyeing you with quite a bit of precaution. All for naught. Instead of attacking, you tried to flee. Daemon grabbed you, and spun you to face him.

“You say she is a dreamer.” Viserys sits down on the throne, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“She is. The bastard sister of my newly deceased wife.” Daemon can’t help but boast. He is proud of finding you. Of the smile that has formed on Viserys face. “You know how it was. Yohn Royce and his precious Silver Dragon.”

“Lady Rhea is dead?” Viserys frowns. Still, he doesn’t look too upset. Perhaps a bit angry, but Daemon knows he will forgive him for it. What is the murder of a woman no one loved to the acquisition of a dreamer?

“He killed her!” You scream, unable to help yourself. Ah. Curse him, he was mistaken. Someone loved the Bronze Bitch. But it didn’t count. You were her sister and she had rescued you from a brothel. You were morally obligated to. It didn’t count.

“Shut up, little girl. I didn’t.” Which, yes, he had, but it would be better to give Viserys plausible deniability. Safer that way.

“Yes, you did. I saw.” You grin at him, menacingly. Daemon arches an eyebrow. It seemed your nap had given you the energy to be defiant. Again. Good gods, you were like a child. Having to be put to bed, pacified, taken care of. On and on the list went. Daemon was not sure that he was ready for the responsibility of parenting a recently legitimized Targaryen. Your manners were atrocious, and you were so young and so soft.

Rhea had taught you nothing of use. Perhaps to read books and ride horses, but it was clear she hadn't hardened you as she was. You had no idea of politics or respect for your King. Soft. Sheltered. A blessing in disguise? Or a curse?

“That will be a problem, dreamer or not.” Viserys interrupts. It’s clear what he means. Daemon has to fix it. Because the Seven forbid Viserys is the one to get his hands dirty. He likes to believe he is above Daemon, in that sense. That he has some sort of morals that go beyond caring for Rhaenyra.

He has not. His tastes are the same as Daemon's. Fire and blood and all that came with it, but with the delusion of having some great sense of morality.

“Give her to me. The Bronze Bitch left her everything she had. I can keep the Vale and the little girl in line.” Daemon quickly says, ignoring your indignant yelp and trashing. “I’ll marry her.”

“Allow you to own a dreamer?” Viserys raises his brows, looking doubtful. “Don’t you think it’s too much? If she truly is one, of course…”

“Show him, Lady Cuffs.”

You remain in obstinate silence. Daemon feels the urge to scream. Clearly, the Royce genes ran strong because Seven Hells you were infuriating.

“Didn’t you say you could keep her in line?” Viserys taunts, amused. Oh, if Daemon could, he would spank your pretty arse red from that defiance. Little brat that you are, it would be a fitting punishment.

He can’t do much more, not without endangering you. Neither Viserys nor him are experts on dreamers. They have been oddities during the history of their house. Their lessons on them were far less detailed than on dragons.

The upkeeping and care of one would require research. But some things are clear from the start. Dreamers shouldn't be hurt. Or too traumatized. They might get nightmares, and that would make their powers wane.

Daemon needs to scare you into thinking he will hurt you, but not actually do it. How to scare you into compliance and punish you, but not hurt you? He looks at the Iron Throne, and suddenly, an idea sparks into his mind. You are, in many ways, a child. And a man is allowed to discipline his wife.

Daemon unsheathes his sword, making as much noise as possible. You flinch, clearly recognizing the sound. He bangs it against your vulnerable behind, making you jolt forward and yelp. Not only it must have hurt, but the sound echoed in the throne room. You turn to look at him over your shoulder, surprised and a little teary-eyed. Viserys smiles.

"Answer his question. Properly." Daemon orders. You look between him and Viserys, clearly unsure. He gives you a few moments, but when you are taking too long for his liking, Daemon raises his sword again. The words nearly tumble out in your haste to speak.

"I… Your wife. Aemma, she held on to you and begged you to not let them cut her. You held her down. Monster.” You say to Viserys, now openly crying. Daemon blinks. Now that was something he didn’t know.

Viserys’s anger at the “heir for a day” comment is suddenly framed in a new light. Guilt. The fool. Daemon would never do something like that to you. A dreamer is too valuable of an asset.

“Something more pleasant.” He orders, swinging the sword. You try to dance away from the hit, but you are unable to. You give another cry.

“You have a dagger. With Aegon’s dream. And the Lady Alicent visited you in your chambers, wearing one of her mother’s dresses, after Aemma passed.” This time, Daemon keeps a close eye on Viserys’s face, instead of you. His face is slack, jaw hanging open. Apparently, you are telling the truth. He wonders what other seedy secrets about him you know.

Daemon raises his sword, ready to hit your bottom again.

“That’s enough, Daemon. You proved your point. You can marry her.” Viserys says, voice shaky. He is clearly overcome by what you know and by the methods needed to extract the information from you. Viserys is about to give you to him. He has realized he will not be able to handle you.

Daemon doesn't mind. To be kept safe, every King needs someone willing to get their hands dirty. He has done much worse, and that was not even in the hopes of protecting Viserys and Rhaenyra.

“No, no, no…” You protest, pitifully. Your whole face is streaked with tears.

“Thank you, brother.” Daemon answers, smirking. Never has he felt more victorious. He gives another slap to your behind, this time with his hand. Viserys nearly smiles at your indignant shriek. “Oh, Lady Wife, no one asked for your opinion.”

[mistkissedmoon]

Say "Habibi"

@inverted-typo You wanted a fluffy story and this was the best I could do, so I hope you like it.

Damian curled his arm around his baby protectively as he made his way past the lobby of Wayne Enterprises. He’d been constantly offended by too many employees trying to touch the precious bundle curled close to his chest already and he wasn’t going to keep Raven waiting so strangers could look and coo their fill. If she was already waiting for them outside, Damian was determined to wrap her up in his coat and drive her and their little love home, where it was warmer and would bring a rosy glow to her cheeks.

Their child had been wonderfully cooperative in giving Raven a break, looking around curiously and babbling happily from the safety of his chest while he did paperwork and other mindless tasks. The warm weight was wonderfully comforting and, not for the first time, Damian thanked whatever higher power had allowed their child to inherit Raven’s gentle temperament. He had imagined their first child would scream in insult whenever parted from their mother, but to his surprise, and Raven’s gentle amusement, their child was dissatisfied most being parted from him.

Her adorable scowls and wails melted his heart and he had assured Raven that the childcare facilities in Wayne Enterprises were more than sufficient to allow him to take their little love along a short workday.

It had been an unproductive day, as though his baby had been good-humored, there had been no end to the parade of visitors looking for any excuse to “drop by” his office. Damian caught the eye of one particularly bothersome man who had made several visits and overstayed to tell him advice “parent to parent” and grimaced, making no attempt to hide his distaste. This man was the last person he wanted to see. Or second last - Drake had also made several visits when he realized how many people would take his visits as permission to follow him and take pictures - and how this bothered his brother. 

“Habibi!” Raven’s welcome voice broke his thoughts and he turned to her, beaming. 

“Beloved!” Damian hurried over to her. “Belabed!” His baby squeaked, catching sight of her. Raven brushed her hand over both their faces and Damian trapped it in his own, kissing her knuckles.

“Your fingers are cold, beloved. I’ll turn up the heat in the car.” He put his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to where his car was parked. Raven rolled her eyes teasingly, happily accustomed to him doting on her. He liked that look on her, smiling and accepting what was her due instead of trying to be as small and unbothersome as possible. 

“You know, our daughter has been calling me ‘beloved’ as often as she calls me ‘mama’.” Damian snuck a look at her and saw her smiling softly. Warmth swelled in his chest at the sight and his lips tugged upwards, helpless as always at the sight of her. “I wonder if she thinks it’s my name.” Raven continued.

Damian hummed thoughtfully while he opened the car door and gently guided her inside. She sighed in relief at being off her feet and reached out to strap their baby in. 

He got in and drove, turning the heat up high. It was unacceptable for either member of his precious family to shiver while he could warm them. He could feel Raven smile at the back of his head and suppressed another smile. Even where he couldn’t see her, she influenced his mood. He missed having her tucked into his side already, where he could hold her hand and look at her expressions.

The snores of their baby were a lovely sound to listen to as he drove home, and when they arrived Raven was half asleep as well. 

“Beloved.” Damian gently roused her. “We’re home. Are you too tired to walk?”

“No, I can manage.” Raven mumbled groggily, stumbling to her feet and yawning while he picked up their snoring child. He guided them both inside and to the bedroom. A nap before dinner would restore both their spirits.

The empath sighed in pleasure as she slipped underneath the thick quilt, wriggling until she was comfortable and looking at him expectantly. He smiled helplessly again, slipping a blanket over their daughter in her crib, changing quickly and curling around her small frame.

“Beloved, what would you like to eat today? We still have some pork belly left.” Damian mused. Raven snuggled closer until he could feel her mouth move as she spoke. “We have some soup left too.” She murmured. “And we can make garlic bread.”

“Whatever you wish, beloved.” Damian dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

A gurgle from their slowly waking baby prompted both of them to look at her. “She really does call me beloved, even when we’re alone, you know.” She said sleepily. “Does she have a nickname for you, too?”

Damian pulled the quilt to cover her shoulder and rubbed her shoulders, sighing. “She may have one. It’s hard to tell which babbles are words right now.”

Raven rolled onto her back, her eyes sparkling. Her hair was splayed around her head, so dark it looked like ink on his sheets. “If she learnt it from hearing you call me beloved so often, perhaps she’d call you names I call you. Darling?” She mused. They looked towards their content daughter for a reaction, but she only looked back at them. “Sweetheart? Habibi?”

“Habeebee!” Their daughter squealed, looking at Damian. Raven laughed, looking at Damian in delight. 

Her lips, her cheeks, her eyes. She looked like she was glowing, so bright and happy it hurt to look at her. Damian wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, and how much he loved her, but it was hard to breathe looking at her, let alone talking to her, and he wouldn’t take his eyes off her for anything. He swallowed thickly.

Kissing her would mean only being able to see a part of her expression, but he’d be able to feel her smiling against his mouth. While he tried to decide what to do, he kissed her knuckles again instead. Her smile widened, and he drank in the sight greedily. Unable to resist her, Damian captured her lips with a long kiss. 

It worked out wonderfully, as Raven was even more beautiful when she had been kissed breathless. And yet, Damian was finally able to breathe. He wondered if he had caught his breath by stealing hers. “You look so beautiful tonight, beloved.” Damian caught her jaw and guided her into another deep kiss. 

It was a wonderful thought, that their daughter would remind Raven of his love whenever she called for her mother with the names he'd taught her. Just as lovely as being reminded of her love whenever their baby called for him.

“Belobed!” Their daughter demanded as they broke apart. He missed her lips for a moment before she burst into laughter and his lips curved up. He’d cook dinner later - right now, he wanted to see how many endearments he could teach their baby, and coax another laugh, another smile, another kiss from his wife.