#but baby did not treat Violet well

[stupidlybookish]

General Sorrengail: I didn’t raise you to be a traitor!

Violet: Funny, I didn’t realise you raised me at all.

[slapmeshigaraki]

⭒˚‧ ⭒ཐིཋྀ "Only nice girls get treats." ཐིཋྀ⭒ ‧˚⭒

♡ warnings: caleb x fem!reader, (18+ mdni), reader is insecure, fingering, dirty talk, pussy eating, begging, crying, dumbification, heavy praise, denial, spit, finger sucking, hair pulling, pussy slapping, mirror

♡ a/n: little treat for the middle of the week. been working on this one for a while so it got a little long,, so sorry. finished this instead of writing my research paper,, butttttt i love writing for caleb so i hope u enjoy xx

You're taking a lot longer than usual to get ready. Nothing seems to be fitting right, every outfit looking worse than the last. Maybe you should just stay home tonight, or maybe, you Caleb needs to remind you just how beautiful his girl is.

“Hey, did you need me to iron something for you? I was gonna’ do my shirt, so—” You listened, turning towards the bathroom door as the honeyed voice came to a halt. There he was, leaning against the wooden door frame, muscled torso on full display, dog tag draped around his neck and glistening in the dim lighting, a white collared dress shirt draped over his shoulder. His pants were held up by a fine leather belt that hung loosely around his hips, the buckle undone. The smell of his cologne wrapped around you, notes of cedarwood and lavender softly calming your otherwise hectic state. The bathroom was a mess, makeup brushes strewn about on the marble countertop, clothes and bras and panties thrown in the corner, heels that didn't match were all over the floor, making for a minefield of a space that you'd been moving around for the last two hours.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.” His brow furrowed at the abnormally dry response, violet eyes studying you as you frantically hurried around the small space, makeup and hair both half done. The dress that he’d seen you in only five minutes earlier was balled up near a pile of purses on the tiled floor now, your skin only covered by a matching black lace set. He was almost drooling at the sight, opting to bite his full bottom lip to keep himself from doing so.

“Everything okay, baby?” His tone was cautious, testing the temperature of the water. You didn’t bother to meet his gaze, too busy wracking your brain to put together a different outfit—or maybe you needed to change your hair? Should you even bother going at all? Maybe you should suddenly pretend to have a stomachache.

“I’m fine, just rushed.” Another short answer.

“There’s no rush, sugar. They can’t start without us after all.” You gave him a soft laugh, brushing off the comment, but he was right. This night was about him after all—a ceremony awarding him for his accomplishments with the fleet this past year. He’d been going over his speech with you tirelessly every day for the last week, picking apart every line one by one until it was perfect. This was Caleb’s night, so why were you the one feeling so much pressure?

“Hey, look at me for a second.” You did, eyes meeting his in the mirror as you ran another coat of red lipstick over your bottom lip, suddenly questioning the color.

“You can tell me if something's wrong ya’ know. We don’t have to go.” You shook your head in dismissal, breaking the eye contact that was quickly making something well up in your chest, tears stinging in the corner of your eyes against your will.

“Of course we have to go, Caleb. I’m going—I want to go, I’m just trying to hurry up.”

“What was wrong with the last dress? Or the four before that?” He wasn’t teasing but genuinely asking you as he searched for your attention in the mirror again, to no avail. A single tear fell from your eye, effortlessly ruining your makeup, a line of foundation erased as you tried not to let anymore escape.

“They just weren’t right. Nothing is fitting right for some reason.” He wasted no time moving over to you, shirt falling to the floor in the process, but he didn’t care. His eyes were locked on you, noticing the way your face slowly crumpled, head hanging as if there was a thousand-pound weight holding you down.

“Don’t cry, baby. Hey, hey, shh…” His arms wrapped around you, toned chest pressing into your back, the warmth of his skin inescapable as he held you as tightly as he could. Your body gently shook against him as you let the tears fall freely now, the thought of ruining Caleb’s night making your heart even heavier.

“You could wear a burlap sack and you’d still be the most beautiful thing in any room, you know that, right? Why are you being so mean to my pretty girl, hm?” His soft palm snaked it’s way across your chest and neck, cupping your wet cheek, sticking your skin to his. He gently guiding your chin up, your reflection staring back at his now.

“Tell me what you didn’t like about the pink dress.” You subconsciously shrunk against him at the question, the visual of your bare skin against him, only covered by the thin pieces of fabric sending shivers down your spine. The little hairs on the back of your neck stood up, ears growing hot—you were so vulnerable like this.

“Be honest with me this time. Please,” he said, voice thick and syrupy like molasses, almost like he was begging as he craned his head down, resting his chin in the crook of your neck and pressing a feather-light kiss to your face.

“My- my shoulders…they looked too wide in it.” His eyes grew big at the confession before they shifted down in the mirror, locking onto your shoulders. He left another kiss on your cheek, then your jaw, next your neck, trailing them across your collar bone before his full lips finally lingered against the back of your shoulder. Your head slowly fell again, before you heard his voice,

“Don’t look away, sugar.”  You watched his slender fingers graze across your skin, faintly dancing over your shoulder blades along with his lips which were still peppering kissing over your frame. Your breath hitched at the sight of his body against yours, his tall and muscular physique towering over you, making you look so fragile in his grasp.

“What was wrong with the red outfit, hm? I think I liked that one the best.” Your eyes rolled at the question which Caleb caught in the mirror. You hated the way you looked in the red dress. The outfit accentuating every curve, the short length hugging your thighs just a little too tightly. You felt so… naked in that dress—every flaw you’d seen in the mirror on full display in that gown.

“My body just doesn’t look good in it.”

“Your body looks amazing in anything. If I didn’t think I’d want to break the bones of any man that looked, I’d suggest you go just like this.” His eyes were not the same when they met yours this time. They were dark, pupils enlarged, darkening his irises. He looked hungry at the sight of you, like a vampire that hadn’t fed in weeks. His lips watered at the thought of devouring you, getting to see sweat glistening on your bare chest, nipples hardened under his rough fingertips, back arched as he pressed himself into you. The thing he loved the most though was your faces, your bottom lip almost bleeding from how hard your teeth grinded against it as you tried to silence your moans, tears welling up at the corners of your eyes that were desperate to escape once he hit just the right spot inside of your soft walls. Your face and body were the things he dreamed about in his sleep, but they were also what would keep him up at night while you were away. They were the things that made him fist his cock, eyes shut tight as he pictured the artwork known as his girl. He was ravenous for you—always, so why couldn’t you see what he did? Why didn’t the lamb understand what made the lion so hungry for it; what made him hunt day and night just for a taste.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his clothed cock hardened against you. He didn’t grind into you like you wanted, his focus instead on getting his fingers on every inch of you. Your gaze fell again, embarrassment heating your cheeks at the sight of his digits languidly sliding underneath the cups of your bra.

“I won’t tell you again. Look up.” You did. You core grew wetter, dampening the fabric of your panties at the contact.

“You know…” His free hand ghosted over your spine, causing you to shiver at his touch as he unclasped your bra, freeing your flesh. A small moan escaped his lips at the reveal, his fingers quickly found your breasts, large hands cupping them, much to his enjoyment.

“I’d kill anyone who talked bad about you. I would never let anyone speak about my girl the way that you do.” A harsh pinch to your nipple forced your chest to push out towards the mirror, your perfect French manicure gripping the edge of the marble countertop. The sight was absolutely sinful.

“So why do you think that you should be the exception, huh? Do you think you’re above the rules?” Caleb rolled your sensitive nipples between his fingers, reveling in the way you writhed beneath his touch.

“No…” You whined, head slowly falling forward at the sensation, you body going limp against his.

“No? Apologize then.” His voice was harsh suddenly, as you felt your muscles give way, gaze being forced back to the mirror against your will as he used his evol against you. He did say he wouldn’t ask again, instead, he would make you look.

“I-I’m sorry,” It was barely audible, strained out between your soft moans as you pushed your ass against the man behind you, unabashedly wanted to feel some sort of friction between your thighs.

“No no no, not to me. Apologize to my baby, hm?  Look at her and say you’re sorry for being mean.” You tried to turn your head away at the humiliating request, but it was no use, you were practically immobilized between his arms. You looked at yourself in the mirror, body laid bare, chest heaving, ass grinding against Caleb like a bitch in heat.

“I’m sorry for being mean.”

“Aww how nice. See I knew you could be sweet. You always listen so well, my obedient pretty girl.” His right hand left your chest feeling cold as his middle and index fingers found themselves pressed against your lips.

“Get 'em wet for me, baby. Go ahead, it’s okay.” So you listen—you let your lips part, sucking his fingers between them, running your tongue in circles around his knuckles as he slides them in and out of your mouth. “Fuck… you look so good.”

“You want my fingers somewhere else? Been grinding this pussy against me like you need something. Do you want me to make you feel good, hm? Will that make my pretty girl stop crying?” He was mocking you, reveling in the way you squirmed against him as he pressed your hips into the counter.

“Caleb… please,” You said, words muffled by his thick fingers pushing down against your tongue, your saliva dripping halfway down his arm at this point.

“But you’re so mean, baby. Only nice girls get treats. Are you gonna be nice from now on? Gonna' treat my pretty girl better?” He watched as your reflection nodded up and down, pretty little eyes closed tightly, nose scrunched up like a bunny. He was in awe at this sight—he almost wanted to give you your reward without making you work for it...almost.

“Answer me, baby. C’mon, be good for me… please,” His words were strained, like he was getting off just as much as you were without him even being touched. It made your knees buckle a little beneath you, forcing your limp fingers to grip around his forearm, desperately searching for some stability.

“Yes yes I’ll be nice. I promise. Just touch me please.” With that, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, your spit glistening around his digits as they traveled slowly down your body, leaving you painted in your own wetness.

“You have the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen, you know that?” He pressed a soft kiss to your neck as his wet fingers slid beneath the waistband of your panties.

“Fuck this pussy’s so wet already. I can feel your little clit’s already excited, she’s so swollen. Aw, does it hurt, baby?” His muscled thigh forced its way between your legs, spreading them wider as his fingers lightly toyed with your most sensitive spot, soaked fingers rubbing on each side of your clit. Your hole clenched around nothing, juices spilling out against the fabric, desperately wanting to be filled—hungry.

“Look so pretty when you don’t get what you want though. Maybe this is all you should get, huh? After all, mean girls shouldn’t be rewarded, should they?” You squirmed even more at his words, trying to force his fingers to move faster or press against you harder—something. Caleb was having none of it though, his big hand gripping your waist, pinning you still. Whines fell from between your lips at the denial.

“Didn’t you just say you would be good? Were you lying to me again or does this messy hole between your legs make it so you can’t think straight? Don’t tell me my fingers barely touching you makes you this dumb, sugar. That’s cute… but a little pathetic, don’t you think?” He sloppily kissed your skin between words, teeth nipping against the flesh, tongue lapping at your wounds only to bite into you again.

“I guess you can’t think. Is that it? You need me to tell you what to do, hm?” You nodded uncontrollably, that heavy weight moving your muscles against your will once again.

“My pretty girl with the sloppy cunt. Say it.” His thumb found your clit now, hovering over it, just barely touching the aching button… but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until you did what he told you to.

“Caleb please…”

“No more whining. If you’re not saying what I told you to then you shouldn’t be speaking at all. Say you’re my pretty girl.” He freed your waist, certain that you wouldn’t disobey when he had you like this—so pliable. His hand made it’s way to your half-undone hair now, gripping it, as he pushed your face closer to the mirror, your body bent over the sink, reflection painfully close.

You said it… but not the way he wanted you to. Your eyes were on him, words barely audible, attitude palpable through the statement. Without warning the warmth of his fingers on your cunt was quickly gone as he slipped his fingers out of your panties to deliver a swift slap to your clit over the fabric. You screamed out at the painful sensation, which only resulted in another smack against your cunt.

“Do it the right way. Look at my girl while you tell her she’s pretty and mean it.”  You looked at your reflection, chest bare, sweat staining your skin, hair messy from the way Caleb’s fingers gripped it forcing you not to look away. Your eyes were glazed over, lipstick smudged onto your chin—you were a mess, but you said it.

“I- I’m your pretty girl.” Not even a second passed after the words left your lips before Caleb slid the crotch of your panties to the side, fingers pressing all the way against you now. His middle finger, still wet from the impromptu blowjob you’d given it, made it’s way into your tight hole inch by inch.

“See what happens when you’re not a fucking brat? Don’t you know that only good girls get what they want?” You nodded, your head feeling fuzzy as his thick finger forced itself between your walls, its length allowing him to brush against your g-spot with hardly any effort.

“Say it again.” You did, looking yourself in the eyes once more.

“That’s right. You’re my pretty girl who listens so well. My god you are fucking prefect.” You were rewarded with another finger amongst the praise, but he hadn’t touched your clit again. He knew that the second he did, you would fall apart in his arms. He just wasn’t quite done playing with you yet.

“Aw my baby gets so fucking dumb when her holes get filled. How cute… you having trouble with your words again? What is it, sugar? Come on, tell me, you can do it.” His lips were so close to your ear as he spoke, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His tone was sweet, slightly higher in pitch, as if he were calling out for a stray dog to come eat a treat out of his palm. The condescending sound made you whine out once again, just like a puppy would.

“Aww am I not giving you what you want? Am I being mean to you?” His fingers quickened as he watched you pant, your palms flattened out against the mirror as he rocked you back and forth against his hand.

“Caleb please touch me.”

“I’m already touching you silly girl? What is it, did you want a kiss?” The thought of getting to feel his lips on yours as his fingers fucked harder into you, his tongue lapping at yours, brought more tears to your eyes.

“Yes. Please ‘wanna kiss so bad.” He pushed your head closer to your reflection, until your lips were only a millimeter from the mirror,

“Go on then. Give her a kiss—such a pretty girl deserves a kiss.” His cock ached in his pants against you as he watched it—the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen so desperate for his fingers that she was kissing herself in the mirror just because he’d said so.

“Goood girl. Good job being so sweet. Tell her you’re sorry again for hurting her feelings.” His thumb finally nudged against your clit again, slowly rubbing small little circles around it. The stimulation made you cry once more as he found just the right rhythm to keep you on the edge as apologies flowed from your lips.

“You must be getting close, beautiful. This little pussy is grippin’ on my fingers so tight. She doesn’t wanna let me go. Do you need to cum, baby?”

“Yes yes wanna cum so bad for you.”

“Aw I know I know. It’s okay. I’ll stop being mean to you since you’ve been so sweet. Tell me where you wanna cum, sugar.” The question only made you squeeze him tighter, your sloppy hole clenching and spasming around his fingers and you pressed your lips to the mirror once more, leaving little red kiss marks all over the reflection of your face. Your hips free now, you pushed into his cock again, grinding against the fabric of his pants, leaving an even bigger wet spot than before.

“No no no, you can’t have my cock. This is about you, just wanna make you feel good, yeah?” You whined louder at the denial, your voice trembling as you shook from your sobs.

“Don’t cry anymore, baby. I’ll do you one better yeah?” He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, despite the fight your hole tried to put up in keeping him inside. His hand’s grip on your hair was gone, but not before he used it to force you to turn towards him for the first time. He lowered himself to his knees, rough hands gently grabbing your thigh as he placed it over his shoulder.

“You are a fucking goddess,” he whispered as he brought his mouth between your legs, placing tiny kisses on the inside of your thighs. “Shouldn’t I pay my respects?” He wasted no more time getting his tongue on your cunt, pushing your lips apart as he savored your juices in his mouth. Your fingers tangled into his hair now, pushing your hips into his face as he gripped your thigh even tighter making you moan out at the mix of pain and pleasure. You were already so close, the feeling of Caleb suckling on your puffy clit, the rhythm just how he knew you liked it, made you beg to cum once more in no time.

“So fucking gorgeous, grinding on my tongue. Go on, say it one more time for me. Say you’re my pretty girl. Say you’ll never be mean to yourself again and I’ll let you cum for me.” He looked up at you as the words spilled out of your mouth just like he said, the look on your face intoxicating as you screamed out his name.

“Gooood girl you can cum for me. C'mon pretty girl, cum in my mouth, it’s okay. You earned it.” He held you still, tongue continuing to harass your poor little clit as you writhed above him. Your legs gave out, quivering as he continued to lick up the mess you’d made.

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you. Keep cumming for me, let it all out,” he said, voice sweet once again as he steadied you with his hands and you rode out the rest of your orgasm.

“You did so good. I’m so proud of you.” He pressed one more kiss to your clit, as you finished coming down, your body finally feeling steady in his arms. He stood up, towering over you once again, face wet with your juices as he held your fingers between his. His other hand cupped your face, thumb softly wiping away your tears.

“I love you more than anything and I want you to know that you have nothing to be insecure about. Even if you’re not feeling your best, you can always talk to me and I’ll remind you of just how beautiful you are. Okay?” You nodded, looking up at him with big eyes, your heart hurting in your chest from how full it felt in that moment.

“I love you, Caleb.”

“I can tell because you let me ruin your makeup when we only have…” He glanced over at my phone on the countertop, “thirty minutes before the car gets here.”

“Thirty minutes?” You shouted out, pushing against Caleb’s chest.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll make them wait,” he said, reaching down to pick up the white dress shirt that had been previously discarded onto the floor. 

“And hey, put on that red dress. I’ll need something pretty to look at while everyone else is droning on about how great I am.” You rolled your eyes, letting out a laugh that perfectly harmonized with his as you threw the balled up dress towards him.

“Now you’ll have to iron them both.” He hummed in acceptance, violet irises glimmering at the sight of you.

“Anything for you, gorgeous.”

[princesssmars]

baby girl, im finna rock your shit!

a sequel to this vi x reader. p.iii

wc : 1.735

contains : fxf relationship and sex. some romantic fluff. rough sex. penetrative sex (r!receiving). some dom!vi i think. lowkey highkey jealous/possesive vi.

a/n : greatest writing motivation is being horny as fuck. enjoy.

for better or worse, violet could not keep her hands off of you.

when you first glanced at her you did not take her for the type to be so affectionate - dyed black hair, smudged eyeshadow, not to mention the abundance of leather she was wearing as she celebrated knocking her opponent out cold. that mixed with her playboy reputation with some of her more desperate fans? let’s say you weren’t expecting nightly shoulder rubs and playful smushing of cheeks when you got home.

but when you finally gave her a chance to worm her way into your heart you were gladly surprised to see just how much of a sweetheart the boxer could really be. she texted you every day and constantly made sure you were taking care of your physical and mental well-being.

and of course, once you gave her the go-ahead she was so physically affectionate. she always had a hand on your hip when walking in public, gently moving you to avoid a small obstacle or to show you a small place she wanted to treat you to. at your shared apartments she would follow you around almost akin to a puppy, a big dopey smile on her face as she stood behind you while you were grabbing some chips from the kitchen.

“uhh…do you need something?”

“nope.”

“…are you sure?”

“yup.”

and every time you couldn’t help but roll your eyes and smile at her before putting a kiss on her cheek.

and while you noticed it beforehand, after you slept together for the first time you saw just how…depraved her affection could get.

from your experience, the first few days after the first time with a partner could be strange, with neither partner knowing when it would be right to initiate the next time without seeming too distant or too desperate. but gods were you glad you and vi were on the same wavelength. it was only the morning after that you were ready to go at her again, nearly embarrassingly desperate to feel the ache she left between your legs again.

but you were feeling just the slightest bit of self-conscious over how eager you were with her last night, so you decided to do something nice to show your appreciation by making her and you a nice breakfast. even though your legs felt the slightest bit wobbly as you made your way to the kitchen.

in the middle of you poking at the eggs to check their progress when you feel a pair of strong arms encircle your waist and a towering body press into your back. you try to keep focusing on the cooking but it becomes impossible when vi starts to playfully bite and kiss at the skin of your neck, forcing you to giggle as the feeling of it combined with her hair getting in your face.

your giggle turns into an airy gasp when her palms grasp your hips and she brashly thrusts her crotch into your backside, moving your body over to the side so you can grip the counter. a deep groan escapes from her throat when your hand travels up to grip her hair. another moan leaves your throat when she lets one of her hands travel down beneath her your sleepshirt.

so you were both equally desperate. and it was amazing.

now her quick kisses before boxing matches had a fair chance of turning into heated make-out sessions and quickies, her scarred lips smiling as she whispered how she needed to complete her ‘winning ritual’ before she goes out to fight, which usually consists of her getting on her knees and eating you out until you’re dizzy. she also loved downright groping you whenever she got the chance when you slept over at her apartment. you could be mopping the floors and she wouldn’t hesitate to reach down and squeeze or slap your ass before walking off like nothing happened.

and though you initially didn't suspect it, you find out she can be incredibly possessive. and again, it was amazing.

once you started to become more official vi made sure you had a front-row ticket to her matches so she could turn her head and spot you whenever she was in the ring. she was scheduled to fight some up-and-coming boxer who was known for her big mouth, and after shit-talking vi one too many times in the press your girlfriend was more than eager to step into the ring. you just didn't expect the woman to have an apparent death wish as she openly flirted with you before the match started, blowing you a kiss and a wink before coming face to face with an uncommonly calm violet.

it was one of the faster knockouts she'd gotten in her career.

as soon as the press and her team were done talking to her she gave you a look. a look that said “get your ass in the car because you are so getting messed up when we get home,,”

and so, you get your ass in the car. and not even an hour later, she makes good on her silent words.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“thats it, take it baby. just fucking take it.”

when you had called vi depraved you truly meant it, as there was no other way to describe the provocative posiiton she had you in - your body pliant and settled on top of hers as her arms wrapped under your kneed and locked behind your head.

all of it was just so deliciously disorienting. the way her feet planted on to the mattress so that she could use her core to thrust her hot pink strap inside of your cunt, the frequent growls and grunts she let fly right next to your ear, how her clasped hands kept forcing your head from rolling back to looking down-

you let out a pitifully desperate whine when your eyesight locks onto the sight of your body from the mirror she dragged over to the front of the bed. youd felt a zap go through your body as she was doing so, and it was only increased ten fold as you saw the creamy mess between your thighs, strings of your slick expanding and contracting each time she pounded herself into you.

“god, i can feel you clenching around me. you like looking at how fucking messy i make you?” violet sneers before delivering a random harsh thrust inside you, laughing nearly cruelly when an odd squeaking comes from your throat.

“aw don't worry baby, i love it too. sounds so fucking good, should've set up a god damn camera-”

it is definitely not embarrassing how loudly you moan at that. you aren't allowed to be bashful when violet giggles into your shoulder. she brings one of her hands to wrap around your throat while the other travels downwards. she brushes over your breasts and stomach, reveling in the ripple it causes when you take a shaky inhale at the feeling.

you’re so caught up in the contradictory softness of her touch and the roughness of her hips movements that you’re more than shocked when she raises her hand and brings it down in a hard slap against your thigh. your hips involuntarily move up into her palm while down towards the strap, conflicted on which pleasure you want to overwhelm you.

“come on, don't run from it. we know you can take it.” she groaned, bringing her hand down in another rough slap against your thigh. she was never the most jealous person. she was never in a relationship long enough to be jealous. but seeing you fall apart for her so desperately after that bitch had the nerve to hit on you in front of her put a sick feeling of satisfaction in the pit of her chest.

your whines start to take on a higher pitch that reveals to her you’re closer than ever to your orgasm. high off of the win and the euphoria of fucking you and feeling the base of her dick bumping into her clit with each thrust, she decides to take a gamble and do something that she knows will make you make a mess for her.

there are no words to describe the full-body feeling you have at her rough palm smacking down on your clit, or the way your orgasm rips out of you like a bullet train. it’s so powerful it nearly hurts, and no matter how much you try to arch away from her she uses her grip to hold you down and follows you up with her hips.

“nuh uh, don't fucking run from me, baby. just feel it, god take it, bet you look so fucking pretty.”

the pleasure feels like it lasts for hours, and its only halfway through that you realize you’re leaking all over both of you and the sheets. you also realize that the experience has brought violet to a fiery orgasm herself, her body pushing through the pleasure as she uses shaky thrusts to help the both of you ride through your orgasms.

with how much she loves being affectionate, it's no surprise that vi is a god at aftercare. once it's clear your high has passed and you’re teasing the edge of sleep she immediately gets to work by slowly slipping the strap out of you and pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek when you whimper at the object leaving your warmth. ever so gently she handles your body to slip off of hers and rest on the bed and on shaky legs walks to get a rag from the bathroom.

after cleaning both of you off she tosses the strap to the floor to be cleaned later and flops in bed next to you. as she lays on her stomach she rests her arm over your body, pulling you in ever closer to her.

“y’know i think that reaction gives me permission to start calling you jealous.” your voice is quiet but hoarse and gives her just the littlest bit of pride.

“’m not jealous. maybe i just can’t get enough of you.”

god, you hope you get flirted with more often.

[lorasdolly]

heyyy hru??

what abt a sevika fic where she’s punishing u cus u went out too late or smth

well sev or caitvi (Caitlyn and violet)

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓

────୨ৎ────

𝗰𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗹𝘆𝗻 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝘃𝗶

It was nearly 2am, the sky was dark, and your head was throbbing. You almost regretted disobeying Caitlyn and Vi as you reached the front door of your home, knowing they'd be in there.

You were tired of never going out without them, and whenever you'd ask why, Caitlyn would simply say "What on earth could you possibly have to do without us?"

Your hand clenched into fists at your side, the alcohol making your head swirl. Maybe you began to understand why it'd be better to have them with you, but you had to show them you weren't a little girl like they insisted on treating you!

Your hand circled the doorknob shakily, exhaling with a huff and twisting it. The house was dark, and there was hardly any noise. For a moment, you believed they didn't even notice you were gone.

You switched on the lights and dropped your purse at the front door. Slowly, you walked towards the living room, meeting Caitlyn's stern gaze with a brow cocked. Her legs were draped over Vi's and Vi sat there with a near pitiful expression.

A whimper left your lips, bottom lip extending outwards. Caitlyn tuts at your reaction, removing her legs from Vi's and standing. Her shoes clacked on the wooden floor, now hovering above you. You stared up at her through your lashes, batting them at her in hopes she'd soften up a bit.

But that method only worked on Vi, which you saw in the corner of your eye pursing her lips with expectation. Caitlyn grabbed your jawline harshly, forcing you to avert your gaze back onto her. She saw you hiss at the sting, scoffing in return.

"Do you take me for a fool, princess?" The petname was coated with condescension, presenting the anger that edged her words. You shook your head at her, cheeks still miserably squished between her hand. She cocked a brow, "Have you lost your tongue? Speak."

"N—No." You replied, words slightly muffled because of how your face was placed in her palm, humiliating you further. "Well, you surely could speak, I'm assuming your ears work too." A huff leaves your lips at her implication, averting your gaze once again and she squeezed. “I didn’t tell you to look away.” She stated, narrowing her vision down at you.

You whimper, trying to get some sort of sympathy from her. “Didn’t I tell you not to leave this house without permission?” She interrogated, demanding an answer with her glare. “Yeah.. b—but Cait—!” You began, “I can go out alone! I can handle myself..!” Your exclamation had just dug a deeper hole for yourself and you only realized when her hand traveled to your nape and then fisting your hair, tugging on it harshly to bring you towards the couch.

You whined at the force she used, grabbing at her clothes to slow her down but she didn’t budge, bringing you to straddle her lap. She scoffed once again before speaking, “Vi, did you hear the load of crap that left her lips?” She stared directly at you, smacking your lips lightly. Vi sighed, getting closer but not touching you yet, “Just needs a firm hand, right, doll?” She mumbled, looking at you.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, “Stop babying her. She said she’s a big girl and she’ll be treated as such.” She emphasized her words with a harsh tug at your hair, your hands holding onto her shoulders and whining. Vi’s hand came to stroke your hair, you knew that was a delicacy you couldn’t afford or take for granted. You pressed up against her hand but it didn’t last long when Caitlyn jerked it away.

“Don’t give her false hope, she needs to learn.” You huff, arms now crossing at how strict Caitlyn was being. Soon, you received a firm tap against your face from her, “Don’t start with the attitude.” Vi sighed, inching closer and cradling your face. “Gonna explain why’d you do that, baby?” She mumbled, just wanting to kiss you but knowing it would upset Caitlyn.

You turned to Vi and gave her puppy eyes, hoping she’d help you out of this situation. “I just wanted to go out, Vi! It’s not that serious..” The petulance behind your words and expression made Vi sigh again, disappointment prominent. Tears began to well at the sight of her being upset, Caitlyn was always angry but she snapped you right back into place without a fuss. Vi, on the other hand, always pitied you, told Caitlyn to go easy on you, and coddled you. She was truly upset this time and you could tell.

As the tears began to spill and your lips slightly parted you tried to crawl into her lap instead but Caitlyn kept her grasp on you. She held onto your hips, “Guess Vi doesn’t want to save you this time, want to repeat what you said to me?” She grabs your chin and you feel Vi leaving to the bedroom. Your tears rolled down, staring at Caitlyn, hoping she’d wipe them. But instead, she let them gather and create a damp spot on your shirt.

“Speak.” She repeated, tapping on your face firmly once again. “Wanted— wanted to go out with my friends, thought—“ You couldn’t finish your sentence when she slapped you this time, done with taps. Vi stepped into the living room agin, crouching behind you and snaking her hands around you to cradle your face and wipe the tears. Your small tears turned into streams, “You’re so mean, Cait!” You exclaimed, getting another slap across your face. “Watch your tone.”

“Shh, don’t make it worse for yourself, don’t be disrespectful.” Vi whispered, tying your wrist behind your back. “She’s just crying to win your sympathy, Vi.” Caitlyn stated, turning you to bend over her lap. Caitlyn hated how soft Vi turned for you, even when she was clearly upset. Your belly was on her lap, ass perched up. “Twenty.” Caitlyn said.

“Ten, c’mon cupcake, she’s crying.” Caitlyn shook her head, gathering your hair into an untied ponytail. “Fine, ten but she has to explain why what she did is wrong.” You kept crying but tried to stifle them, Caitlyn was trying to humiliate you. Vi helped with taking off your skirt and panties, showing your glistening cunt to her and display your ass.

Her palm clenches your hair and tugs it back so you could look at her, "Did you hear? Tell me what you did wrong." She demands, coming down onto your ass with a smack. You yelp, "Caitlyn!!" She slaps your ass again in return to the complaining, "Shut the fuck up, I told you to talk."

You whimper, "Went out and didn't tell you! Cait— Stop!" You exclaim, the fourth slap coming down on your ass. She does this till ten, tears streaming down and your cunt even wetter than it already was. Vi ran her thumb over your folds, groaning at the feeling of your slick.

Caitlyn sits you up on her lap, smacking your cheek one last time. "Think I was awfully nicer than I should have been." She stated, caressing your chin gently. You shook your head, still too prideful to say sorry. You look to Vi should was removing her belt and pants, a damp spot on the fabric covering her pussy.

Vi strokes your hair, "Gonna let me take care of you?" She whispers, watching your grind down to relieve yourself against Caitlyn. Before you could agree, Caitlyn interrupted. "No, don't you think Vi deserves an apology, baby?" She questions, but it was rhetorical. "Yeah, I think she does." Caitlyn coos, watching the flushed expression on Vi's face.

You nod gently, going on all fours as Vi kneels on the couch. You stared up at her through your lashes and tugged on the boxers. "Wanna make you feel good, m'so sorry." Caitlyn tuts at how you only apologize to Vi, watching you lower her boxers and how Vi's breath catches in her throat.

Vi holds your hair back gently, "It's okay, baby, it's okay.." She whispered. Your tongue laid flat on her cunt, her hips rutting against it. "F—Fuck." You kept staring up at her, letting her use your mouth to get off.

Caitlyn came behind you, feeling silicone on your ass cheek. You whimpered at the coolness, the vibration going up Vi's core. She moaned, eyes darting to Caitlyn slipping the strap into your pussy, then smacking your ass. "Don't I deserve an apology too, baby? Only ever say sorry to Vi." She bottomed out and didn't even give you time to adjust to the stretch before thrusting out and slamming back in.

You moan, tongue quickening on Vi as she throws her head back. "Fuck—" Caitlyn's hips snapped against yours. "Answer me," You moaned, watching as Vi's orgasm fell onto her, fisting at your hair and grinding against your tongue to ride her high. Vi pulled away, spit coming down your chin, Caitlyn tugging at your hair to lift your back against her chest.

"Yeah, made Vi feel so good, what about me, baby?" She spoke directly into your ear, the squelching noises, your moans, and Vi's pants were bouncing off the walls. "Caitlyn- Cait-" She bites down on your shoulder disapprovingly. "I'm sorry– so— so fucking sorry," You respond, reaching closer to an orgasm by the moment.

"Gonna cum, princess?" She shifted her angle to fuck into your g-spot, her faux cock reaching anywhere inside you. You nodded, moaning, "Cu-cumming—" She holds your limp body in her arms, helping you stay stable.

When you were panting, she let you collapse onto the couch, head landing into Vi's lap. "Vi," You drawled out her name, finding your way into her grasp. "Love you so much," She chuckled, watching Caitlyn's reaction. She removed the strap, getting closer and kissing down your neck.

"You love me too or are you insisting on calling me mean?" A whine leaves your lips, not in the mood to argue but just be forgiven. "Nuh-uh, love you too," She chucked at how you spoke, a contrast to previously. She held you sandwiched between her and Vi.

[just-some-random-blogger]

The Salt In My Blood

You were the beloved Jewel of the Realm, the youngest Targaryen born to Alyssa and Baelon. Though your nature resembled more a lamb rather than a dragon, you posed a threat at court, for a single word out of your mouth inspired a thousand actions from The King and The Rogue Prince. Thus, your match with the Lord of the Iron Islands.

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader x Dalton Greyjoy | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, targcest (sister!reader), reader has valyrian features (silver hair, violet eyes), power imbalance, graphic depictions of violence/assault/murder/death, canon divergence/inaccurate timelines, ye old misogyny, fuckedupedness of men, smut (dub con, loss of virginity, piv, biting, marking, breeding kink, corruption kink, baby trapping, cockwarming, cunnilingus), internet translated high valyrian, angst, social commentary, typos, etc.

A/N: !!mind the warnings!! This is really yucky because it is. all men do is hurt women. Also I did basic research for Dalton Greyjoy and just used him cuz I needed a character. idk what he's actually like and I'm 99% sure this timeline doesn't add up so, just roll w it ok? Ok. If my internet translated high valyrian sucks, well, it be like that. And surprise surprise i made another song for a fic because i should make use of my music degree while im jobless 💔 my heart goes out to @arabellasleopardcoat because her fic capital really poked my brain and got me fired up enough to write/create again, even if just for this fic. i love you.

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa @sloanexx @azperja @happilyhertale

Father, father, shining star, save my brother from the war. Mother, mother, hold me close. I fear brother won't come home. So, I pray, night and day, I do my duty here. Find me, oh [a] husband, so fierce with not a fear. Father, father hears my prayer. Mother, mother dries my tears. All my strife ends tonight for my husband's here.

"But what if someone sees," you whisper.

Daemon clutches your hand tighter as you hurry down the hall. He looks over to you, your expression matches your shaky voice.

Perhaps, had the conditions been different, he'd be softened by your words. The ferocity of his protectiveness would have made him stop in his footsteps and clutch your cheek. Perhaps he would have promised to safeguard you.

But these conditions did not elicit such urges from him. No. It stoked the fires bacchanal in his gut. The stolen taste of your honeyed lips in the garden was not enough.

Daemon finally brings his darling sister into his bedroom, and there, he answers you, "who would dare spy on the king's heir, the prince of the realm?"

Your breath quickens at the sound of your brother locking the door.

The prince of the realm stalks over to you, a dragon gazing upon a meek lamb.

Again, you whisper, "what if someone finds out?"

Daemon could growl. He almost did as he grabs your waist and sinks his head into the crook of your tender neck. You don't even react when he does this, save for your gasp.

Oh, how like you, how docile and doe-like, never one to raise your voice, or fight back, especially not with him.

"Let them find out, sister," he claws your clothing, "then they will not steal you from me."

You are so pliant as he squeezes you, so soft as he roughs you back to his bed. You let him handle you like he did your dolls growing up. He treated them with less than a quarter of the gentleness you would; they'd end up tattered and broken because of him by the end of your playing session, much to your heartbreak.

Though you cried about it, you never once held it against him, because each time, Daemon would wipe your tears and apologize. He liked breaking your dolls. He liked being your comfort.

He knew without a sliver of doubt you'd let him do the same to your body. You'd let him break you, then kiss the tears off your cheeks. You'd let him, for he was your star, and you were his doll.

Daemon presses you beneath him. He lays you down where he sleeps. He kisses you, the way he has sometimes imagined he would while touching himself, or while in the arms of another. His long, silver hair cascades down his shoulder, joining your long, silver hair that's spilled on his pillows.

For so long, he's denied himself of you, because you were too pure, too darling to be tainted.

You whimper as he pushes your skirts up, bunching them by your ribs.

But now, it's all different.

His mouth suckles its way to your neck.

"Daemon."

Now, it's not about denial. It's about what's right. It's about what you deserve.

"Daemon-" you whimper when he reaches into the waistband of your smallclothes, "-wait."

He breathes hotly against your jaw. He grabs your knees and parts them for himself.

You push his shoulders back, catching his attention. He is displeased, and not even your glassy eyes could quell it. He warns you with an annoyed sound.

You gulp but mutter anyway, "this is wrong."

"Wrong?!" snaps he.

You tense at his anger, yet even then, you caress his cheek gently, "I am to be married to Lord Dalton Greyjoy."

"And you would have me believe you want him?" Daemon quips, "that you do not want me?"

You push yourself up on your elbows. Tears begin to spill from the corner of your eyes, "Daem-"

"Why do you think I am doing this?" He pushes himself against your core.

You whimper at the contact. He is hard.

He grabs your wrists and pins them to your sides, "I do this for your sake, little girl. To save you from your prison."

You gulp and blink rapidly, your silver lashes lace with tears.

The slightest semblance of remorse flashes on your brother's face.

With your head lifted, you watch as Daemon brings his hands to your ankles instead. He rids you of your shoes and chucks them over his shoulder.

Slowly, he strips you naked until you are left in nothing but the jewelry and the stockings he bought you once before.

You cover your breasts, and he lets you while he kneads at your slightly parted thighs.

His eyes are glued on your womanhood, on the curls that don't see the light of day and the flesh that's never been touched by a man.

Daemon clenches his jaw as his fingers inspect the heat there. The two digits find molten wetness flooding your entrance. You make a breathless sound and squeeze your thighs, trying, with pointless effort, to stop him. His eyes flick to your face, the look of embarrassment, of shock, of pleasure visible to him. He debates forcing your legs.

He licks his you-coated fingers and tuts instead, "open."

You look at him, your Daemon, with a faint line between his brows. You close your mouth and lick your lips. Your hands find their way back to your breasts.

The sight is maddening, especially with how the jewel of your necklace looks between the squished mount of flesh.

"Open," he commands with less patience.

Daemon watches his darling princess part her legs for him. His trousers strain more than it did already.

He watches you closely and motions with a finger to your chest, "those too."

You do not immediately comply. In fact, you look at Daemon with pleading eyes. He raises his brows at your bratty demeanor, and shakes his head, "are you disobeying me?"

You see the threat in his eyes.

"Kessa nyke mazverdagon ao rūnagon aōha dīnagon?" Shall I make you remember your place?

You shake your head and pipe softly, "daor." No.

Finally, you reveal your breasts to him.

He smirks, "good girl."

Your brother kneads your delicate flesh and grinds his clothed groin against your weeping cunt. The sound you emit makes the feel of the clothes on his skin unbearable.

He grabs your hands and places them on his waistband. He looks down at you as he rids himself of his top. By the time his burning chest is free, you've gotten half the wits to undo his breeches.

His eyes don't leave you as he takes off his shoes.

You timidly pull his pants down, sitting up slightly as you do. You make a soft sound when his manhood flings free. Daemon shoves you back and does the rest himself.

"Daemon. I don't think-"

Your voice is crushed by the feel of his cock sliding into you. A rush of heat ripples through your body. He leans down and kisses your shoulder as you whine.

"Enough," he pants. He uses all his restraint not to fuck you dumb then and there. He grabs your thighs, pressing them into your chest. He can feel your tension. If he fucks you now, he could leave you unable to walk straight. But as sweet as that sounds, he doesn't actually want to hurt you, not that way.

Daemon sinks down to your jugular and kisses you there before he brings his hungry mouth to your breast. He sucks and nips, imagining it being heavy with milk for his babe, the babe he'd put into your belly.

The thought makes his moan and rut his hips.

You make a strained sound and your hands push at his arms. You call his name again, soft and shaky.

Daemon tries to ignore you, his palm coming to your lonely breast on the other side, but the persistent call of his name makes him sigh.

He lightly grazes your nipple before he releases your flesh. He trails kisses up your skin until he lands on your face, your face, which was now wet with salt.

"You need to relax. Mmm?" he coos, kissing your lips, "skoro syt gaomagon ao limagon? Hm?" Why do you cry?

You adjust beneath him, repositioning your thighs, digging your fingers into his nape. You whimper, "lēkia."

Daemon's belly burns. Look at you, crying for your older brother.

"Kessa, ñuha hāedar?" Yes, my little sister?

"Iksan zūgagon," you mutter, tears streaming down your temples. Your nails scratch up his scalp. I am afraid.

Daemon, selfish as he is, does not like the fact that leaves your lips. His brows furrow. He rubs your thighs in an attempt to comfort you. He kisses the corner of your lips, "hen lēkia?" Of your older brother?

You shake your head quickly, rubbing your thumb on his jaw.

His brows furrow tighter. His hold on your thigh tightens, "hen bona Āegenka Āzma?" Of that Iron Born?

You stay still. You take a moment before mumbling, "Viserys said I should marry him for my own good-"

"Fuck that cunt Viserys," he spits angrily.

Your lips quiver.

The anger in Daemon's chest dissipates as you rub the deep line between his brows. He props himself up, sinking a hand by the side of your head. He looks down at you.

"You cannot protect me forever," you whisper, finally relaxing beneath him.

Daemon watches as you lick your lips.

You gulp, "I am a Targaryen princess. I have duties to the realm, to my family."

"Your duty is with me," he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest.

Your violet eyes sparkle as you examine his features. You tuck the long tresses that block his face behind his ear. Your belly ignites at the fierce beauty of your beloved brother.

"I burn for you," Daemon says, "I know that you burn for me."

"But Daemon-"

The gentle thrust of his hips stifle your words.

You whimper and instinctively mold your body against him. Your legs tighten around his torso as his thrusts grow more and more confident.

"Enough," Daemon repeats this time softer, head sinking back into the crook of your neck, "you have always belonged to me, and you know it."

Daemon kisses you, delighting in the gasp you give when he plays with your pearl. He muffles the sound of your mewls with his mouth.

"They insult us all by daring to mix dragon blood with fucking sea squid," he pants, "you were meant to carry my seed, be my bride."

You moan, feeling a foreign force in your belly.

"I will not let that sewer monster be the one to make you a woman," Daemon licks a stripe up your neck.

You tangle your fingers into the roots of his hair, "Daemon."

His nails scratch up your sides, "twas I that watched you blossom into womanhood, tis I that should be the one to take it."

Neither of you speak after he says this. You both simply whimper, wordlessly agreeing your bodies were made for each other.

The prince had not a single care in the world. He urges you to scream out to him with the flick of his pelvis. He didn't care if anyone could hear, neither did he care that anyone would see the viscious marks he was leaving all over your throat.

You were better than he had ever imagined, and he was determined to make you his. He was intent on emptying his stones, over and over again, until you could take no more, until you were too exhausted to leave, until your body had no other choice but to carry him a child.

And when he finally does spill into you, coming with a grunt and a soft, "you're mine," you, the virgin princess finally understand the fuss over sex, and reply to him with an, "I love you."

Daemon fucks you until his bed is soiled with a mix of your come. He fucks you until every minute movement from him makes you shiver and whine. He fucks you until your skin is marked with tender bites. He fucks you until you beg for respite, and then he keeps himself inside you after.

You were a worn little thing, and yet you managed the energy to still cling to him as you dozed off.

He kisses your temple and sleeps soundly, knowing he's done it, he's made his claim; you were his. That was irrefutable. Only a madman would deny him of you now. He basks in the pleasure of your body, and in the knowledge his baby sister so wholeheartedly trusted in him to let him do this.

One can only imagine, then, the mortified horror you felt when you were given to Lord Greyjoy anyway.

This was not part of the plan. You were meant to meet Daemon. He told you you were going to speak to the king together, and yet here your eldest brother was, ushering you towards your captor-husband to be.

"My princess," Dalton says, reaching a hand to you.

You stare at his glimmering eyes, finding nothing but malice and lust behind them. You turn to your brother for help. You do not want to touch this man.

Viserys offers you none and looks away. It hurts when he does so, especially since he does so with such apparent scorn. He smiles at Dalton, "greet your lord. You will soon be wed to him, sister."

You muster enough artificial interest to smile. Goosebumps form on your skin when he kisses the back of your hand.

He notices and chuckles, rubbing where he kissed, "such demureness. Do not be frightened of me, my dragon. I would not hurt such a pretty thing."

You clasp your hands together after he releases you.

"Not unless you ask," he adds, bursting into a laugh.

Neither you or Viserys return the amusement. In fact, the latter's face contorts at the distasteful joke. His nostrils flare, "you dare jest such uncouth things in front of your king?"

Dalton Greyjoy is unbothered, but stifles his laughter. He clears his throat and bows, "my apologies, my king. Tis the Ironborn in me. I cannot help my nature, much like you cannot help yours."

You feel light headed the entirety of this interaction. The room feels like it was closing in on you, and you kept glancing at the door, praying that your other brother free you from this torment.

He does not. He does not come. In fact, you do not see Daemon anywhere the entire day.

Dalton keeps you by his side, taking your arm in his as he makes you stroll him around the Red Keep. You do so, of course, no matter how strong the urge to run away and hide from him was. The entire time, Dalton recounts his stories of battle, his stories at sea, his stories of life. He's sincere enough, but you are not interested in the slightest.

"I think you'd enjoy the feel of sea salt against your skin, just as much you enjoy the whip of the clouds," he grins with genuine enthusiasm.

Any response you have is put out by his next words.

"I can introduce you to my salt-wives."

"Salt-wives?"

"Aye," he says proudly, "I'd say I have about twenty, but I cannot assure you its accuracy."

You are horrified. Finally, you have the gall to pull away, "what?"

Dalton chuckles, somehow amused, but his brows furrow, as if irritated, "we Ironborn keep salt wives in our ships, to give us comfort and warmth when the sea gets too rough. Is this princess so sheltered to not know this?"

You curdle when he reaches for your neck.

"You needn't be jealous. You'd be my one and only rock wife."

You scowl at his condescending tone, "I thought that was just a wives' tale."

He laughs. It is rich, amused, and foreboding. He shakes his head, "it's about as much of a wives' tale as your dragons are, princess."

Later that night, you weep at the king's feet, begging him not to marry you off to such a man.

Viserys does not hear it, and it is only then that Daemon finally appears.

When he does, it's as if the gods themselves breathed life into you. Quickly, you run into him and sob into his chest.

Daemon holds you tightly and glares at the king, "what have you done to her?"

Viserys scoffs. The dark room, illuminated only by the fireplace and a few lit candles, feels to him like it's darkened because of Daemon. He shifts where he sits, "I? I found her a husband."

Daemon's eye twitches, "you gave her to me! You said it just this morning."

You look up at Daemon, hopeful at the sound of his words.

"I said I would think about it once you report your patrol at the City Watch to me."

Daemon releases you to impose on his brother, "I kept your city clean from crimes and safe for the people."

"And where did you go after?" Viserys narrows his eyes.

You rub your arms as you watch your brothers argue.

Daemon does not respond.

Viserys turns to you, "tell your beloved sister where you went after your patrols."

Daemon does not move.

Your chest tightens at the silence, "... Daemon."

The said man opens his mouth, "I went to get a dri-"

"A whorehouse!" Viserys blurts, rising from his seat to glare at Daemon. He turns back to you, pushing past him, "I would know. I paid every whore in Fleabottom to seduce him."

Your heart leaps into your mouth, "w-what?"

Daemon is stunned.

"See now," Viserys is close enough to clutch your cheeks, "your beloved brother is a man like all the rest. No more is the dragon righteous than the kraken."

Your eyes begin to fog with tears. Your hands begin to tremble. Why was he doing this to you?

"Greyjoy is no less a dog than the rest of us. He at least, is honoring a tradition. Daemon honors only his cock."

You turn to Daemon, hoping to find this was not the case, but his expression says it all. You let a pained whimper, "you teach me so cruelly, brother."

"I teach you," he swipes your tears with his thumbs, "for your own good."

"You fucking--"

You scream in terror as Daemon lunges at Viserys. You reel back and watch as the two crash down to the floor, the younger of them finding the upper hand. They roughly struggle against each other.

You can no longer remain simply screaming when Daemon grabs Viserys by the collar and slams him repeatedly against the ground, especially not when Viserys claws at Daemon's face to get him off. You dash forward just as the guards order the prince to stop.

It only takes another scream from you, begging them to stop, for the kingsguards to burst into the room.

You grab Daemon's arm, and out of instinct, he swats you back, hand hitting your nose with rage powered force.

You shoot back into a kingsguard, feeling your face throb in pain. You swipe your philtrum and find red on your fingers.

It takes Viserys screaming your name for Daemon to stop and realize what he's done.

The impact of hitting the armored man makes your back twinge, but it does not hurt nearly as much as the back handed hit you received from your brother.

The kingsguard catches you and stands you upright. He quickly asks if you are alright, but doesn't wait for an answer because he's then shoving Daemon back, putting himself between him and you when he tries to come near.

Daemon glares in offence.

"Throw him in the fucking dungeon," Viserys spits out as he is helped up by another guard.

Daemon fights back, but is no match against three guards.

He screams your name as he is dragged off.

You clutch your face as he tells you he didn't mean to hit you. You face throbs as he tells you he loves you, and only you.

For once, you doubt his words.

Viserys comes to your side, placing a gentle hand in your shoulder. You watch as he commands a servant to get something for your injury.

He clutches your cheek that was struck and sighs, "if you wed the Red Kraken, you will strengthen our hold on the Iron Lands. Dalton Greyjoy is a formidable warrior. I couldn't think of a more capable man to safekeep the Jewel of the Realm."

As he stroked your hair, you realized that Viserys was right. It didn't matter who it was, all men were the same. When your septa warned you of men's depravity, you believed your brothers to be the exception. Now, you knew exactly why you were called-

"Little lamb," Viserys coos, "I only want what is best for all of us."

You were too naive to believe in good things.

And so you marry Dalton Greyjoy the next day.

The haste with which the wedding is prepared is to prevent you from changing your mind, you figured. That, and to keep Daemon in prison for the least amount of time.

Part of you wanted to visit him, but part of you wanted him to suffer. In the end, you realized you were too weak to behold your brother as a prisoner.

Daemon screams and bangs at his bars, demanding he be released. But the prison guards have handled worse and throw cold water at him to shut him up.

He knew by the time he was free, he would be too late to stop your marriage, but still, he meticulously planned what he would do the moment he was.

That night, after the wedding festivities were over, Dalton takes you to your room and makes you his wife.

"It's been a while since I've had a virgin," Dalton says, caressing your cheek, "don't worry, I will be gentle."

You want to scream, you want tofight him back, but you remember you're not a virgin, and fear paralyzes you. You mumble, "m-my dragon riding."

Dalton pushes back bour silver hair and kisses your shoulder.

You can't help but think of Daemon in this moment, but it makes you feel sick, and so you will him out of your head. You mumble again, "my dragon riding may taken my womanhood."

Dalton pulls away and stares at you for a moment.

"I- I was told as a child, it happened to many Targaryen princesses."

He pulls his hands, which were on your hips, away then shoves you down on your bed. He smirks as he undoes his clothing, "then I can be rough with you, aye?"

You quiver at his gaze.

He laughs, shaking his head, "didn't I say I would not hurt you? Unless under your request?"

You inch back as he crawls over. He grabs your ankle, then the other, causing you to panic. You instinctively kick him off, but instead of being deterred, he is excited.

"Sh, sh, sh," he hushes, "it will not be unpleasant, my dragon."

Your skin pricks with gooseflesh when he removes your shoes, your socks, then sneaks his hand up your skirt.

You whimper and turn away, finding you could no longer kick back when he seizes your knees.

"Please-"

"Shhh," he hushes, giving you the first solemn look he has this entire day he's been smug, "I've had much practice from my salt wives. You, my rock wife, will taste the fruits of my practice... as I taste you."

You gasp when he suddenly rips your underwear off.

"I swear to you, your body will enjoy it, even if your mind wants you to believe otherwise."

You muffle your mouth with your palm when you feel Dalton sink in between your thighs.

He was right.

The entire time he touches you, it feels like your skin was being scorched. Your heart was not in it, but your body twisted in pleasure. You hated that you longed for Daemon, even after the fact you were not enough for him; he was still the only one you, and this moment proved it.

You were brought to tears at how pathetic it was. Tears streamed as you reached your peak, one of the many you receive from your... husband.

He handled you with carnal instinct, just as Daemon did, but unlike him, Dalton did not kiss your tears. In fact, he did not kiss your face once. It is you that initiates such a thing, amidst the throes of your lewd pleasure. He grabs your jaw when your lips connect, and quickly releases his load into you after.

Your peak is cut short because he pulls out just when you reach it.

You watch as he rolls over and goes to sleep without another word.

The next morning, the servants call you Princess Greyjoy and it haunts you.

"No need to look so sullen, wife," you hear over your shoulder.

If the cold from the early morning wasn't enough to make you shiver, the kiss on your shoulder was.

The ship rocks as you tear your gaze away from King's Landing, King's Landing that looked so tiny now from where you stood. A sea of tears laid between you and the home that will never be yours again. You turn to Dalton. He leans his elbows on the edge of the ship and looks up at you, "we can do many things to liven your mood."

You watch him as he rubs your hips. Your stomach curdles but you manage to offer a smile, "I... am flattered, but I do not want to distract the captain of this ship."

Dalton chuckles and straightens up, "trust me. The crew would appreciate it if you did."

You squeak when he yanks you into him.

"Right boys?!" he calls loudly, "shall I make a salt wife out of my rock wife?!"

The crew cheers and it makes your skin burn in mortification.

The next thing you know, you are thrown over his shoulder. He slaps your ass and takes you to his quarters. The crew laughs as he does.

You helplessly grunt when he drops you on his bed-- your shared bed. You silently peer up at him as he stares at you. You are relieved he paces across the room, towards his table. He grabs something and chucks it at you. You flinch but manage to catch it.

He sits on the table as you inspect the pouch. You open it, finding herbs inside.

"I heard you've been drinking that," he says.

You look up at him.

"Haven't you?" he asks.

You smell it and wretch. It smells exactly like-

"Moon tea," Dalton says, making your blood run cold, "for the bastard in your belly.*

You are frozen in your spot. Your stomach drops when he stands and walks over. He grabs your chin. It is not harsh, but it strikes fear in you anyway.

"I asked you a question, wife."

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

"HAVE YOU BEEN TAKING THE FUCKING TEA OR NOT?" he screams, grabbing your neck.

Your hands fly to his grip. Your fingers attempt to pry him away.

You wheeze when he squeezes you. Your flail your legs and try to kick him off. You can't. Just as your vision begins to go dark, he releases you. You fall onto the bed and frantically try to catch your breath. You cough and hear him smash things around the room.

And so you behold the man who said he would not hurt you unless you asked him, brutalize the furniture.

You think your chances are better in the sea rather than on this boat. You slowly maneuver towards the door while he is distracted. Just as you are about to sprint, he grabs you and throws you back down on his bed.

"You stupid slut!" he screams, "you think you can run?!

You try to scream for help, but the pain in your throat when you try to stops you. Not a second later, you scream anyway.

He slaps you across the face, promptly silencing you. The sting is ten times worse than what Daemon did.

"I was promised a Targaryen princess, not some whore of a dragon!" he screams, kicking the chair by his desk across the room.

You feel lightheaded. You see double.

He laughs angrily, shaking his head, "dragon riding, my arse."

Indistinguishable sounds leave your lips.

Your heart drops as he storms over.

"Who's the father of your bastard child?!"

"ANSWER ME!" he demands, grabbing your shoulders, dragging you to your feet. Your head recoils at the sheer force of it. You take a moment to steady your head.

Your eyes search Dalton's enraged features, hoping to chance upon a sliver of compassion... in vain. The sound that leaves your mouth is response to the bruising squeeze of your arms. You cannot help but whimper as tears stream down your cheeks, "you're hurting me."

He is further angered by this. He gives you a powerful shake. Your head lashes back again and you scream.

"Give me a name!" erupts the lord.

You no longer have it in you to hold your tongue, and so you confess, "Daemon!"

Dalton releases you. He is repulsed, "your brother?" He scoffs, "you revolting, little worm," he slaps you again, making you lose your balance.

Before you crash into anything, he grabs you and keeps you upright. You can feel your cheek and lips swell at his assault. You taste iron on your lips.

"And here they had me believing you were some meek lamb," he laughs dryly, brushing your hair back, "you're nothing but a whore, grown from perversion and abomination."

Your expression hardens. You glare at him and rebut, though your head was pounding, "and your sea rituals are more righteous than my family traditions?"

Without another word, Dalton shoves you back, propelling you into his desk. Your skull crashes against the edge with a horrendous thud.

You fall limp onto the floor. Dalton cares little if you were dead or unconscious. He walks out of the room right before he can witness the red staining your white hair.

Dalton is no fool. He knows better than to disfigure a Targaryen princess.

He walks towards the wheel of the ship and continues the course to what his crew believed to be a shortcut to home. In truth, he was bringing the ship to its doom, to face you with with a trail of the sea.

He would crash the ship into a chokehold of rocks, and if you survived, if he found your floating body, he would keep you, as you proved your resilience. But if you were swallowed into the depths, if he was unable to find you in the debris, he would praise the Drowned god for your riddance.

The same want with his crew.

Of course, there was a bit of this that felt like suicide, but he knew he was too vengeful to die, so he knew he had nothing to fear.

When the Greyjoy ship finally reached the rocky pass, Dalton was promptly warned of the danger by his lookout, who he obviously ignored.

He ordered to hoist the sails, and, blindly, the crew followed, even through apparent worry.

It didn't take very long after for the ship to crash into the cliffs.

The crew clamors. They scream and panic, turning to their captain that could not care less. He pretends to steer them to safety, but he actually slammed them further into their demise.

The deck begins to crumble. The mast snaps. The sails break off. Dalton calls to abandon ship.

The crew don't need any more convincing.

One by one, each man for their own, they try to escape with their life.

By the time Dalton jumps off the ship, the thing is half submerged in the water, crumbs of it on the side of a rock.

It was pure chaos.

Dalton swims far enough from the destruction, and knows his god smiled upon him and his decision when he sees a large wooden slab he can climb on.

He does just that and looks out to his crew, helping the ones that manage to swim over, commanding the others calling for help to simply swim or drown.

He looks around, trying to make out a body of a woman, a blob of a dress, a head of silver hair in the aftermath.

"My wife," he screams, "has anyone seen my wife?!"

He wasn't concerned, of course. He just wanted to know his fate as a husband, but this did make for a good alibi.

His surviving men look and swim around for you. They find no trance.

Dalton presses his lips, "little dragon couldn't fly away."

They take refuge on a cliff. Lord Greyjoy tells his crew not to bitch and panic because they will surely be found by a passing ship soon enough.

He had planned this shipwreck after all.

By the time Dalton and his remaining men were saved, a flash of red circled in the setting sky, hovering over the massive rock that held the shipwreck that bore the sigil of Greyjoy.

Caraxes screeches as his rider commands him to get closer to the scene. The dragon hesitates but eventually lands on the cliff. Waves crash upon the area, causing the beast to bleat when he is wet.

Daemon is frantic as he gazes upon the destruction. He is distressed unlike he's ever been. His voice is distinctly desperate and hysterical. He screams out your name, even though it was nothing against the roar of the splashing waves.

He heaves heavily as he erratically decides to dismount and jump into the water.

As he wades, he tries to convince himself that what he was doing was for naught-- perhaps you were not here to begin with. But the gut feeling was overwhelming; it was sickening.

He tries to believe that bottom feeder, Greyjoy, saved you before his ship crumbled. He tries to convince himself that cunt's lust for you was enough reason to keep you alive.

But he remembers the servant he threatened with a knife whilst demanding to know which route your ship would take. He thinks of how he almost shit himself while confesssing to Daemon that Greyjoy planned to pass through a rocky region as a shortcut. But Daemon's flown over that area, and knew it was out of the way to the Iron Islands.

After squeezing out what's left from that servant, Daemon's face falls when he mentions that rusted octopus had an argument with a servant girl that came to serve the princess a cup of tea.

Daemon was no fool. Dalton was a butish barbarian. If he found out you were drinking Moon Tea, he would do his worst on you for blemishing his pride.

And so he swam. Daemon swam, dove down, and searched for your body until he had to stop because Caraxes was getting restless. He commanded him to calm down, but he could only do it so many times until he, himself, was the same.

He eventually gets back on Caraxes. Daemon can't bring himself to leave just yet however, and finds himself praying to whatever god out there to return his love back to him.

Caraxes circles the area one last time before heading off. For some reason, Daemon feels the urge to check underneath a large slab of shattered wood. He commands his mount to lift it, and the dragon screeches as he does what he can with his hind legs.

The sound that leaves the prince's mouth is what could only be described as pure anguish.

A head of silver hair floats up and wafts in the water along with a tattered dress. Your body garnered a horrid tone of grey and you were missing your shoes.

Daemon cannot contain the tears that gush out of his eyes.

Caraxes carries your body in his claws all the way to the Keep.

The way in which he commands his ride to set your body down is frantic and incredibly detailed. Part of him realizes Caraxes probably recognized you, considering the way he laid on his belly and sniffed you as Daemon buckled to his knees and lamented over your frigid body.

He speaks to you in High Valyrian. His salty tears drip on your salt water drowned body. He promises he will never trick you, never argue with you, and never make you cry ever again if only you open your violet eyes.

He rocks back and forth with you in his arms, unsure which of you he was soothing by doing this.

He swears he will turn the sea red with blood and burn the whole Iron Islands to avenge you.

He is incredibly uncomfortable of the chill of your skin. He shakes his head, telling you dragons must not be kept cold. He kisses your face in an attempt to warm it up. He recounts a time where you accidentally spilled candle wax on him, burning his skin, and tells you that you still need to make up for your offence. He tells you he will forgive you if you simply hold him back.

Viserys had to account for three dragons by the time he found out what was happening, one was Daemon, whose grief morphed into murderous spite. He threatened to slay anyone who wanted to take you from him. Not again. Another was Caraxes, who refused to leave his heartbroken rider's side. The last was your dragon, who felt the loss of your connection, and went into a rabid state mourning.

It takes 5 people to secure your dragon in the pit, 5 people to subdue Caraxes, and 3 people to separate Daemon from your corpse.

The king takes a moment to clutch your hand. His face flinches. Where once your hand was so warm, no warmth now remained. He steps back and watches the maesters cover your body and take you away.

[marbl3z]

Okay but hear me out

Soft and intimate first time sex with Lyney

He has you on the bed, your back flush against the mattress and pillows

Hes going slow and deep with you, careful not to hurt or overwhelm you during both of your first times

Hes holding your hips with one hand while the other is lace with yours

And you're running your fingers through his hair telling him how good he's making you feel

Bassicly lyney would treat you like a princess during your first times 🥺

YES YES YES !! I AGREE YOU ARE SO CORRECT ANON !! RAAAHHH, PRAISE KINK! LYNEY,,, GAAH IMAGINE HOW SOFT HE WOULD BE WITH YOU LIKE HE'D MAKE YOU SO HAPPY AND FEEL SO LOVED,,

(I'm so sane for this man)

---

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ " I've got you, Darling.. "

CW ;; praise kink lyney, soft smut, petnames (darling, sweetheart, baby, my love, etc.), fem terms for reader (princess, reader has breasts, reader is afab), kissing/nibbling, a bit of foreplay for plot, you and lyney are both virgins, established relationship, no protection (pls wear protection!!) !!

This one might be really long I'm sorry for that!!

sobs in 4.5k words

18+, MDNI — IF YOU CONTINUE READING, THATS ON YOU!

You wrap your arms around your boyfriend's neck as he lifts you with ease. You hold yourself up with your legs on his hips, deepening the passionate kisses and swallowing all of his whines and gasps with every inch of your lips.

"You're so cute, Lyn," you mumble in-between the kisses, running your fingers through his— now, untied hair, the locks messy and curly.

He plops you onto the bed, his face flushed and his breathing uneven. "You look so pretty like this, my love." He whispers kissing your face.

"Mm.." you hum, he lays in-between your thighs, both of his arms at the sides of your head. "You did so good tonight, at the show. I'm so proud of you," you mumble, watching his body freeze and his ears flush red.

"R-Really?" He stammers, staring up at you with blush covering his entire face.

"Mhm, you did so so well." You coo, nuzzling your cheek against his.

"Ah..." he attempts to speak but if cut off by you catching his lips in a sweet kiss, before pulling away and kissing his chin, neck, and pressing a soft kiss on his adams apple.

"do you like it when I praise you?" You tease, running your hands through his blonde hair.

He can't seem to meet your eyes as if he was embarrassed to have his weakness exposed. You smile sweetly whispering sweet nothings in his ear before turning you both over so you're on his lap.

"Hey.. Lyney, uhm... do you think, we could try it tonight..?" You blush as you lean against his shoulder.

He thinks for a moment, brain still all fuzzy and warm from your teasing and praise a few seconds prior. "What do you— oh... you mean, like, trying.. it? Are you sure..?" He turns to face you, his cheeks flushed so red it could be mistaken for an apple.

"wait, you do know what I mean right? So we're on the same page..?" You ask, holding his hand. Your anxiety getting the better of you, and you give it a gentle squeeze.

"Darling.. do you want to make love?" He whispers, his violet eyes meeting your gentle ones. You can hear how nervous he is, how hard his heart is pounding.

You nod slowly, unsure how he would respond. If he said no, then you would never push the subject further. If he said yes... Heaven knows what could happen.

"I'm comfortable with it... Are you okay with it, my love?" He asked so sincerely, his voice filled with love.

"I'm okay with it, I just want you to be comfortable as well.." looking into his eyes and grasping his hand in your own.

"I trust you." He nudges his forehead against yours, feeling your heartbeat in your palm. Truth be told, he was nervous and almost scared. What if he didn't live to your expectations?

"I trust you too, Lyn." You press a sweet kiss onto his lips, your chest against his. He could've sworn his heart skipped a beat at that moment.

He wraps his arms around your hips and deepens the kiss. His tongue sliding against your bottom lip, you gasp and he takes that chance to enter your mouth. Your hands are at his face, your thumb rubbing his cheek and the other running through his hair. Lyney lifts you up and sets you down on the soft bed gently before continuing to kiss you. His hands at your hips, pulling you closer to him.

"Is it okay if I touch your skin..?" He gasps, in-between kisses. He can't seem to get enough, he patiently waits for your consent before continuing with anything.

"Yes," you nuzzle your face against his once more— like a cat. His hands slide under your shirt, the softness of your tummy against his calloused fingers is enough for his heart to explode.

"You're so beautiful, so pretty.." he whispers in your ear, kissing the shell ever so gently.

You gasp when you feel his hot breath against your ear, your heart pounds and you watch his every move. You meet his eyes as if he's asking for more consent, never wanting to overlook or overstep your boundaries. You give a soft nod as he lowers his face to your tummy, pressing gentle kisses to the skin, kissing up from your belly button to your abdomen before reaching up and kissing your lips.

"I'm sorry for asking so much.. is it safe for me to touch you? Further up..?" He asks, meeting your eyes again.

"It's okay, sweetheart.. don't apologize. Yes, it's safe..." you mumble as he cups your cheek with his hand and kisses your lips once more. He lowers his face and kisses up your abdomen to your chest, lifting your shirt higher. He makes sure that it's okay once again, looking for any sort of upset expressions or discomfort from you.

You run your hands through his hair, as if a way to melt away his anxieties and worries. You sit up and pull the shirt over your head, a bit with his help. He rests you back down to the soft mattress and pillows, your chest covered by your bra. You gulp nervously, worried that he would make fun of you, or judge you in some sort of way.

He takes a hold of your hand and presses a soft kiss on your palm. He smiles at you, "You're absolutely beautiful, honey. Please don't be afraid to tell me to stop, I want nothing more but for you to feel safe with me. Okay..?" He presses his nose against your own, as you nod slowly.

"I will, I'm.. just worried I won't be what you expected.." he hushes you with a kiss.

"Love, my sweet... and adorable Love." Lyney breathes against your lips, "you're so beautiful, so so pretty." He whispers, kissing you more. "My love, my Darling.. all mine,"

"I love you," you pull his face closer to yours.

His face alights with blush, holding your hip with one hand. He stares at you wide eyed, it wasn't the first time you have told him you loved him, of course. But Every time you did, he would be so stunned to respond it may take him a few minutes before he could squeak out a soft 'I love you too.' Before covering his face.

This time, his eyes only soften with adoration for you, and he leaned in. "I love you too," Lyney whispers, pressing his forehead against yours, he caresses your tummy and hips softly. Sitting up to slip off his own shirt, his heart skips as he feels a bit insecure.

Your hands find their way to his hips, partly exposed by his loose pants falling down a bit. You kiss the middle of his chest, rubbing your thumb against his skin lovingly. "Beautiful.." you whisper, nibbling his chest gently.

A wobbly whimper escapes his throat as you graze your teeth against his skin. He lowers his head, his eyes closed, his face flushed red— all because of you. You can practically hear his heart beating through his rib cage. Poor thing, probably has never had anything this intimate before. You cup his flushed cheek, pulling his face down to meet yours and you nibble his bottom lip gently.

A gasp emits from his throat, soft and breathy. He leans in to kiss you, his body seems to melt against your touches. "Such a good boy, all for me.." You mumble against his lips. You watch his expressions and how much your words affect him.

He whimpers, all of your sweet words go down directly to his cock. Strained against his boxers, leaking with precum. His breathing is uneven and his mind is fuzzy, he wants to go slow but you're making him insane.

You glance down and notice the tent in his pants, all of the sudden as if a switch went off, all of your teasing and confidence disappeared.

".. hey, um. Lyney?" You call, afraid to meet his eyes.

"mm?" He hums, his eyes fluttering open to meet your averted gaze. "..what's wrong?"

"will it— uhm. Will it hurt?" You mumble, your vague question has the gears in his brain turning. A soft gasp emits from the magician when he finally understands.

"Oh sweetheart... I don't think it'll hurt really bad, I'm not really sure what to expect. But if it hurts really bad just tell me to stop okay? Can you do that for me?" He brushes the hair out of your face, turning you to face him by your chin.

You nod, embarrassed slightly. "I will, I promise" you mumble, nuzzling his palm.

"Good girl" Lyney coos, "are you alright to continue?" He runs his hands through your hair, pressing soft kisses on your cheeks and forehead.

"Mhm."

"That's good, you're doing so well" he catches your lips in a sweet kiss.

He slides his hand over the soft plush of your tummy, kissing your neck and nibbling softly. Not enough to leave any marks, afraid to hurt you. You let out a soft moan when his teeth graze against that sensitive part of your neck. He pauses for a moment, tracing his steps and going back to that spot— watching intently of your reactions. He presses his lips onto it, you shiver. He makes a soft attempt to nibble it, you let out a soft whimper.

"Is it sensitive there?" He teases, smiling dearly.

"mhm,," you nod your head, your eyes meet his and you blush even more.

"So cute," is that he would've said, but instead he just went back to making you feel pleasant. Open mouthed kisses on your neck and collarbones.

He looks at the remaining fabric on your upper body, unsure how to go about asking if it's okay to take it off. You get the hint and sit up to unclip it, he's a bit worried if it's okay to help.

"Lyney, can you see where the clip is?" You lean forward, your fingers blindly attempting to find the clip in the back. Lyney pulls you closer with the small of your back, your body flush to his as he attempts to help you.

"I got it," he unclips your bra, watching as it falls down your arms and you place it off the bed somewhere. Your breathing is deep and you're slightly nervous. You lean back but attempt to cover your chest out of embarrassment. "Hey," he coos gently in your ear. "If it's too much we can stop, okay?" He rubs your hip gently.

"I'm just— I'm okay! No one has ever seen me like this... I'm not used to it. It's embarrassing.." you mumble, your palms cover your face.

"I understand, I think you're beautiful. So so pretty, your body is so pretty. So gorgeous, too" he whispers, moving your hands from your face. He kisses your lips soft and quick.

You look at the man in front of you, trying to build up the courage to remove your arms from your chest. There's no rush, he only wants you to feel safe and comfortable with everything he's doing. He doesn't push you, only pressing kisses on your tummy and neck. You take a deep breath and move your arms and pull his face towards your own again, kissing his lips. Lyney smiles at your kiss, his eyes traveling down your body, meeting your breasts. His eyes widen a bit, and his chest inflates and deflates more deeply.

"You're so beautiful, is it okay for me to touch you?" He meets your eyes, you look so divine underneath him. You nod your head gently, putting your arms at the sides of your head.

He kisses the middle of your chest, he slowly trails his hand up your abdomen and watches your face as he cups your right breast in his hand. Your eyes flutter as he runs his thumb over your sensitive nipple, a soft gasp emitting from you. A dull ache in-between your thighs as he continues to rub and squeeze the soft plush on your chest.

"So pretty.." he presses a kiss onto your breast, trailing around and keeping eye contact with you as he presses a kiss on your nipple.

You let out a moan as you squirm, the ache turns into throbbing. "Lyney.." you moan his name, he gives your nipple a gentle lick. You run your hands through his hair, your face flushed red and your chest heaving.

"Yes, my princess?" He backs away from your nipple, meet your sweet eyes.

"It feels really good there," you mumble, almost tripping over your words. He keeps this in mind as he continues to lick and kiss your chest. Gently pinching and rubbing your erect nipples with his lips and fingers.

One of his hands are rubbing your tummy and hips, while the other and his mouth are playing with your pretty tits. Your eyes flutter close with every sensation, your whimpers are soft and his hands are warm and gentle. You arch your back slightly as he puts the erect flesh in his mouth, it almost catches him off guard but he met your eyes and saw how blissful you looked. No one has ever touched you, not like this. It made his heart flutter as he thought about it, he was your first. As you are his first, first true love, first girlfriend, first kiss... you were all of his firsts.

You make a strange noise, an attempt to speak. He stops all of his movements and leans back up to you, "are you okay?" He asked, his tone filled with worry.

You nod, hugging him close to you. Your chest squished against his, he has to hold back a moan. "Lyney, I... I wanna take this to the next level," your sweet innocent eyes meet his violet ones. His eyes widen and his face flushed at the thought. The tent in his pants, twitching slightly.

"Are you sure?" His voice is deep and sweet, with the nod of your head he straddles your hips, starting at your lips, kissing your neck, the valley in-between your pretty tits, all the way down to your tummy. His eyes flicker up to yours when he reaches your navel, he presses a long kiss as if asking for permission.

"it's... it's okay" you whisper, your chest heaves with every action he does.

"So good for me," he mumbles hotly against your skin. Pulling your loose pants down slowly, he kisses your panty line, marking your hips with his mouth. Your body feels like it's on fire, he's so close to that spot. Aching so sweetly for him.

He lifts your hips as he pulls your pants below your hips, past your thighs, all of way off. You're basically nude, your only piece of clothing left is your underwear, snug to your skin.

He kisses your hips, his fingers tugging on the waistband, you buck your hips as a silent way of telling him "yes". He bites the band, pulling it down with his teeth, as if that wasn't the hottest thing he could have ever done. He meets your eyes as he slides it off your hips and helping you kick it off.

"so fuckin' gorgeous..." he curses under his breath as he stares at your now nude body underneath him.

Your clit throbs as you close your thighs, embarrassment creeping up your skin. You feel fuzzy and warm all over, Lyney treats you so well.

"Sweet girl, I know.. it's embarrassing, do you want to continue?" He kisses you out of your thoughts, a soft 'yes' with a gentle nod is all that can emit from you. "You sure?" He asked again, rubbing his thumb on your hip.

You nod, meeting his eyes once again. He smiles gently as he takes his own pants off, leaving him in only his boxers. The tent much more noticeable, the fabric has a wet spot on it— but he doesn't pay it any mind, you're more important to him. Your pleasure and how good you're feeling is all he cares about.

he brushes his cheek against your thigh, pulling them apart. Your sex is wet, bright red, and your pretty clit is all swollen. You could've sworn he nearly moaned when he looked at your body completely. This time he doesn't say anything, his mouth agape— his breathing faint but heavy. His eyes flick to yours as if asking if he can touch you there. You nod shaky, opening your legs even more. Your clit throbs as he blows on to it, your body covered in goosebumps and your voice hitched.

He leans down and presses a soft kiss onto your navel, his thumb faintly rubbing your exposed clit. You let out a long moan, your eyes flutter almost completely closed. He smiles at your reactions, pulling your hips closer to him, he kisses down your hips to your thighs, licking a stripe from your upper thigh to your lower thigh. Surprising you with a kiss on your clit, a whimper escapes your throat.

"keep making those pretty noises for me, princess." He makes eye contact with you as he lowers his face to your pussy. Putting your clit in his mouth, flicking his tongue back and forth. Your hips buck and twitch and your hands go to your chest, you twist and rub your nipples as you moan and whimper his name.

he presses the pad of his finger against your entrance, awaiting your response. you nod your head with tears prickling your eyes, this is unlike any other feeling. not even the times when you touched yourself late at night to the thought of Lyney could compare to this feeling. he hums against your clit, and your hands fly to his hair, pushing him deeper- a gasp emits from his lips, and vibrates against your clit.

"Lyney, oh god..," you meet his wide eye expression, your hands buried in his blond hair. tugging gently on his scalp, he moans- he sounds so sweet muffled against your sex.

He presses his fingers against your entrance, one finger at a time to stretch you out. with how wet you are, he thinks it'll be easy to slip in and fill you up with his cock. your pleasure filled expressions and your whimpering and moans drive him to make you feel so good that you'll think of him for the next couple days. he pushes his finger inside of you, a grunt escapes his throat as he feels how tight you are, it goes directly to his cock. he looks up at you, your expression is needy and your eyes are on him, you are his audience and he'll put on the best performance he can for you.

he intertwines his free hand with yours, his tongue lapping all of your wetness. his finger thrusting in and out of you, soon enough he adds a second one and hears those delightful moans from your throat. you squeeze his hand and whimper his name so sweetly.

"L-Lyney,, it's so good.. you're doing so good.." you whimper, throwing your head back as he scissors his fingers in and out of your pussy.

he leans back, your wetness on his chin. "Yeah? My sweet love, you're doing so well for me." he coos, rubbing his thumb over your hand comfortingly.

you whimper as he speeds up, you feel that warmth pool in your tummy. you squeeze his hand and your body trembles, he smiles as he goes back down and licks your clit long and slow. he curls his fingers inside and he hits your sweet spot so lovingly, making your body wash over with pleasure and warmth, you let out a soft moan of his name.

"Is that it?" he whispers, doing it again and watching your reactions. sure enough, you start trembling even more, whimpering and whining praises.

he continues to suckle your clit and finger you, wanting you to cum first before anything. You're so close to your release, "Lyney.. ah, mm.., 'm so close," you mumble in-between gasps and moans.

"Good, let it come sweetheart, go on... cum for me-" as if he had you under his spell, your hips bucked into his mouth cutting him off. Your orgasm rocking your body deliciously. He helps you ride it out, kissing and licking your folds and clit.

He pulls his fingers away, almost tempted to lick them clean. He cups your cheek and kisses you sweetly. "You did so good, such a good girl..." he whispers against your lips. You chase after his lips when he pulls away, using his free hand to brush your wet hair away from your face. His gaze softens at your flushed, sweaty face. "You're all mine," he whispers, smiling.

You nod your head, still dazed from your nerve-rocking orgasm. You look at him, Lyney, your sweet magician. You press your lips against his forehead, "Your turn, right?" You whisper, referring to his— rather painful boner.

His eyes widen, he stammers for a moment. "Uh, well... I'm alright.. I promise, you look so sleepy and I don't want to make you overworked..." you kiss his lips gently.

"If you're comfortable going all the way, then I have no objections." You rub your cheek against his.

"Are you sure? A hundred percent sure?"

"Yes, my love."

He takes a deep breath, kissing your lips. Lifting your body up and positioning himself in-between your thighs. He holds one of your hands holding it close to his chest. He takes another deep breath, sitting up and putting a "show" on for you. Pulling his boxers past his hips, and sliding them off his thighs. Your eyes widen as his cock springs out from the tight fabric. Pressing against his tummy, his precum sticking and gushing out from his tip. He lets out a soft moan as he kicks the boxers off.

"d-dont stare.." he stutters, embarrassed... his breathing deep and heavy.

"s-sorry.. I'm just,— you're so pretty." You sit up, cupping his cheek; he leans into your touch, his heart fluttering against his ribcage like a butterfly.

He wraps his hand around his shaft, giving himself a few pumps. His eyes flutter close and he lets out soft moans, you're almost mesmerized at his actions.

"I.. I love you," he moans, his body flushed and his eyes meeting yours as he leans over you, and his arms at the sides of your head. His blunt tip brooding against your wet entrance.

your heart flutters when you hear those three sweet words escape his mouth. Wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him gently as one of his hands pull your thigh up to his hip.

"Can I go in?" He whispers, rubbing his tip against your clit.

You nod your head, whimpering as he circles your clit with his cock. a slight ting of anxiety in your chest as you watch him push his tip inside— it hurts.

"L-Lyney..!" you whine, holding onto him. tears prick your eyes as he kisses your face, hushing your whines.

"I know i know, shhh.. it'll feel good in a second, i'll go so slow for you." he coos, running his hands through your messy bed head.

he holds your hip, gently guiding himself inside of you. His tip making it past the tight muscle and inside of your gummy walls. he lets out a strangled moan, leaning down and giving you open mouthed kisses. he rubs your chest and tummy as he pushes inside, filling you up to the brim. he stays as still as he can, kissing and whispering sweet nothings into your ears.

"you okay..?" he caresses your ear, gently twirling the hair behind it.

"m..mhm, you can move" you slide your hands over his shoulders, kissing him.

he kisses your lips, moving your thigh to his hips, you wrap your legs around him. one hand holding yours, and the other on your hip. he pulls out gently, only his tip remained inside of you. he softly thrusts his hips, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. Lyney moans your name, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"F-Fuck, you're so tight.." he whimpers.

"it feels so good, aah.." you gasp and whine, pulling his hair gently with every thrust.

"I love you- i-,.. aah., i love you so much," Lyney whines and moans- muffled by the pillows next to your head.

"i love you too, L-Lyney," his pace starts to falter, becoming erractic, he feels himself getting closer to cumming.

"oh, oh... baby- i'm, aah. im so close." he whimpers kissing your neck, squeezing your hand in his.

you feel the warmth of that coil indicating how close you are to your own release, "Oh- me too, Lyneyy.." you whine holding onto him as he goes faster in making love to you.

"where- where do you want me to finish?" he moans, holding your face.

"u-um, i- i dont know.," your mind is going blank from the pleasure, "do it on my stomach.. or face- fuuck i dont know,," you moan his cock hitting your sweet spot.

he holds back his moans, biting his lip so hard it nearly draws blood. caring about you reaching your release than himself, he reaches down and rubs your clit in tight circles, his hand twitching occasionally at the over stimulation and edging himself. your moans echo the walls of your room and you arch your back as you finally cum all over his cock, your breathing is erratic and your body is so sore as his hips shake and twitch before he pulls out and pumps his cock a few times before finishing all over your stomach.

"ah,," he gasps out, laying on top of you. "you were so good for me.. i'm- aah..," he huffs in and out.

"you made me feel so good, Lyn" you whisper in his ear, giggling lazily as his ears become red.

You smile and run your fingers through his hair lovingly before he sits up and smiles at the beautiful mess you have become underneath him. "I'll go turn on the bath for us, yeah?" He asked pressing his lips to you so lovingly before exiting the room to start the bath.

You smile, nuzzing your head into the soft pillows. He truly stole your heart, yet again. How did you ever manage to become so lucky?

Lyney comes back into the room, picking you up like a bride and setting you in the bathtub filled with warm water. Gently washing you and kissing every inch of your face and neck in the process.

"hey,"

"hm?" He hums, scratching your scalp gently.

"you're amazing," you look up and kiss his chin gently, completely relaxing against your boyfriend.

---

IM FINALLY DONE,, OH. OH MY GOD. IM. AAAHHH IT TOOK ME A FULL DAY TO MAKE THIS,,, I LOVE IT AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT ANON

[danikamariewrites]

Ok so this but with rhysand and Azriel ddlg relationship like ong the size difference

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLFC2m3s/

I can just imagine reader just like grabbing their hand like their thumb and dragging them to like different shops whenever they go out shopping or whenever they like go out in general that’s how Reader holds her hands so she doesn’t get lost because she’s short and they don’t want her to get lost Them always like picking her up and manhandling her because she’s so tiny like omg the height difference so hot 🥵

I could also see them being so overprotective over tiny reader and them teasing her calling her tiny tinny

Hold My Hand

Rhysriel x reader

A/n: i want azriel to tease me about being tiny so bad and I just want to hold both of their hands ughhh

Warnings: throuple, ddlg relationship, reader gives Az & Rhysie a scare, mentions of kidnapping

Rhys and Azriel had been putting off on taking you shopping for days now. They were either busy or a court emergency had come up. It was time to put your foot down.

Marching into Rhysand’s office you approached the situation with calm and cool head. Yelling at your mates would get you nothing but a rough punishment for yelling. So you bat your eye lashes, play with your fingers and put on your sweetest voice to get what you want.

Rhys and Az look at you with sweet smiles, ecstatic to see their baby girl so early in the morning. “Good morning, darling,” Rhys coos at you. Standing from his desk Rhys makes his way over to you. You look up at him, giving him your sweetest smile. He brings his large hands up to cup your face. “Morning,” you chirp.

Rhys’s smile widens as he places a small kiss on your forehead. “What can Az and I do for you this morning baby girl?” Oh you had him wrapped around your finger. “You and Azzy promised to take me shopping, and well it’s been a few days since you said you would. Do you think we can go today, please daddy?”

You pout up at him to seal the deal. From the twinkle in his violet eyes you knew you won. As you got lost in Rhys’s eyes you didn’t notice Azriel come up to you two. He gently runs a scared hand through your hair, giving you a loving look. “Did you want to go now, princess?” You let out a small hum and nod your head enthusiastically. You grab their hands and pull them from Rhys’s office, yapping about what stores you want to go to.

Walking around the city Rhys and Azriel each have one of your hands in their large ones. Making sure you stay close to them. The only time your mates let go is if you’re in a shop, picking up something you want or stopping to snack. In their free hands, Rhys and Azriel carry all your shopping bags.

Walking by the front of the latest shop the window display of fashion imported from the Winter Court distracts you. Ice blue, snowy white, and diamonds sparkle on the luxurious coat and matching winter dress you must have.

A new thing caught your eye out on the street. The crowd seemed to part just for you to reveal your favorite seasonal treat! You thought the frozen treat cart would be gone by now that fall was approaching. This was the perfect addition to your day!

Without a word to the boys you dashed out of the store and across the street. Eyeing the menu you tapped your fingers together, lipping your lips in excitement.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later that Azriel realized you were gone. His shadows darting out to find you. Rhys was having one of the shopkeepers box up the dress and coat in the window.

Azriel grabbed Rhys’s arm roughly, his eyes wide with panic. “What?” Rhys asks softly, his eyes roaming around the store for you. When he noticed that you weren’t here panicking set in. Azriel could hear Rhys’s heart rate pick up.

The two of them dashed around the store looking for you. With no sight of you they split up going to the shops next door.

Meeting back in the first shop and finding each other unsuccessful fear and anger set in. What if you were taken? Who would dare take you, the mate of a High Lord and the Nigh Court Spymaster?

The shopkeeper that was helping Rhys earlier timidly made her way over. Tapping Rhys on the shoulder he whips around. The poor girl jumps at the sudden movement. Not backing down she points out the window, “Is that who you’re looking for?”

A deep sigh leaves both males as their shoulders relax at the sight of you. Collecting the shopping bags they rush out to you.

Wrapped up in your conversation with the vendor you didn’t notice your mates behind you. Rhys cleared his throat causing you to jump. You turn, smiling up at your mates. “Rhys, Az look! The frozen treat cart is still out!” They raise their eyebrows at you, giving you a look that says ‘what have we told you about running off?’

You suck in your lips, eyes going wide. “I gotta go, I’ll see you later Harold.” You wave at him cheerily as Rhys grabs your hand pulling you away.

“I’m sorry,” you squeak out, clinging to your mates as you finish your treat. “I just got so excited daddy.” Az stops, holding your chin in his hand. “I won’t lie princess you scared us. Just remember to slow down and tell us next time, yeah.” You nod at him batting your eyelashes lovingly. Az leans down to steal a quick kiss from you.

“Now, is there anywhere else you would like to go?” You tap a finger against your chin, scrunching your nose in thought. You let out a hum, “Nah, I just wanna go home. I’m absolutely exhausted.” You exaggerate making your mates laugh.

“Come here, darling.” Rhys reaches out for you, letting you jump on his back. The whole way home you rested your head against Rhys’s shoulder so you could still see Azriel. Rhys would occasionally rub soothing circles on your thighs. By the time your home your eyes are half closed. Rhys lays you on the couch tucking you in with your favorite blanket.

They both kiss you on the head before starting to walk away. Your hand quickly reaches out for Azriel’s. Tugging on his fingers he looks down at you with a small smile. “What’s up princess?” “Will you stay for a bit?”

“Of course, my love.”

[flawdchaos]

Pinky Promises

Robert Rosenthal x Reader

Word Count - 1840

- this is a part 2/continuation of Spilled Drinks that was requested by anon.

Ever since the night Y/N had literally ran into Rosie at the bar she couldn’t seem to rid herself of a small smile, no matter what she did. When the girls made it back to their barracks that night, the ambushing of questions went on for well over an hour and even into the next morning.

“You have to talk to him again, Y/N. We both saw the way he looked at you when you were dancing.” Violet declared as she pinned her hair back under the white cap the Red Cross was gracious enough to bless them with. “You know Violet is right, Y/N. He’s already dreaming of a house back in the states and curly headed babies running around.”

“Hazel!” Y/N stopped midway through her dress buttons to lightly smack her friend on the arm, cheeks burning bright red. “I just met the man and for all we know, he doesn’t care and will never speak to me again.” Reaching down to grab her work satchel packed full of supplies.

“Well Y/N if that was the case I don’t believe Mr. Rosenthal would be waiting outside for you, would he?” Violet taunted, Y/N’s head snapping up to meet her friend's gaze. Violet stood peering out the window, fingers holding the blinds open enough to see outside. Hurriedly, Y/N rushed over the window trying her best to not trip over her own feet.

Sure enough there stood Robert Rosenthal - hands shoved in his pockets gaze searching the area around him.

“Go get him, tiger!” Hazel bent forward, laughing.

There truly was not much left in this world that could phase Y/N. She had seen it all in the cruel reality that was war. Men she had grown close to over the span of their visits to the nurses stations would come back battered and broken, some beyond repair - and despite all of what she saw, she was always able to ground herself. She had to. But now, she felt like a young school girl again. Her body was littered with anxiety - sweaty palms, shaking hands, and a racing heart. Why?

All because Robert Rosenthal was standing outside of the nursing barracks.

The squeaking of the barrack front door brought her back down to reality for a moment before the brightness of the sun had her quickly shielding her eyes.

“Rosie, is that you?” she more than obviously knew the answer but she still could not convince herself that it really was him.

“Uh, yeah”, he let out an awkward chuckle “I wanted to stop by this morning and see how things were going. Maybe walk you to the nurses station since I’m heading in that direction.” he was rambling. She stood, head cocked up to him, eyes squinting still from the sun. “I mean, unless, that makes you uh - uncomfortable.”

“I’d love the company. The commute can get a bit lonely.” that same small smile making its way back onto her face. Rosie extended his hand for Y/N to lead the way and with one quick glance back inside she saw her friends staring out at her, smiles plastered on each of their faces.

“What is on your itinerary, today?” Robert finally spoke up.

“The usual. Work until roughly 1900, probably later since there is a mission today and hope to make it back to the barracks in time to do some reading before I get up and do it all again tomorrow.” Y/N paused, kicking a few pebbles along the path before she continued. “How is the day looking for you?”

“Nothing too crazy but I am going up today.” he said nonchalantly, stopping Y/N in her place.

“You’re flying today?” she almost felt like throwing up. Maybe it was selfishness or chosen ignorance but Y/N had grown to hope the war wouldn’t need Robert anymore. She hoped she could protect him from it but all she could do was treat the wounds he would inevitably bring back to her.

“Yeah, debriefing starts at 0730. I’m heading over there once we get you where you need to be.” Her anxiety ridden mind could not help but imagine this was Rosie’s goodbye to her.

Y/N stepped forward to Rosie, grabbing his hands in hers as she looked up to maintain eye contact.

“I know I am just a nurse and you can’t tell me what you're doing up there or where you’re going but you have to pinky promise me you’ll be safe.” Dropping his left hand, she stuck her pinky out expectantly.

“Cross my heart.” he said, as their pinkies connected tightly.

As they continued along their walk, conversation came easily. The pair were still strangers by most accounts and each of them hated it. Y/N wanted to know everything there was to know about Robert Rosenthal and she had made it her plan to figure it out. Stopping outside the nurses station, Rosie removed his hat and began anxiously squeezing it in his hands.

“Be safe up there, fly boy.” Y/N teased, attempting to keep the mood as lightened as she could.

“As long as you do the same down here.” Y/N nodded.

“This mission will be my 20th. I’ve got a two day pass calling my name once my feet hit the ground. Let me treat you to a real introduction and dinner.” Rosie spoke quickly, nerves taking over the brunette.

“I would love that, Mr. Rosenthal.” rising on her tiptoes to plant a quick kiss against his cheek. “You know where I'll be when you get back.” With that, Y/N took a step back and hurried inside to her awaiting duties.

There wasn’t any other time that Y/N had remembered the clock dragging by so slowly. The seconds ticking by was beginning to drive her up the wall and she had to busy herself with random duties. It was while she was restocking the gauze that she heard the all too familiar rumble of the engines overhead. She couldn’t make it to the window to count the returning planes but she hoped, with all her being, every single one of them returned. Hazel’s blonde curls popped around the closet corner, an all too familiar sign that the once quiet med bay was about to pure, unadulterated chaos.

“We’ve got boys already headed our way.” Hazel spoke softly, as if she tried to lessen the blow.

“How bad?” Y/N asked but was only met with a small head shake from the blonde - it was never a good sign.

When Y/N finally saw Robert Rosenthal, he appeared in the med bay doors adorning some cuts and scrapes across his face.

“I told you I would make it back, pretty lady. My leave starts at 0700 sharp. Let’s go to London.”

It was pure luck that her days off coincided with Rosie’s rendezvous and that Helen and Violet were great at covering for their friend. The train ride was where Y/N finally got to the bottom of who Robert Rosenthal truly was. Shortly after taking their seats, Y/N couldn’t help but start to prod.

“Alright, tell me everything Mr. Rosenthal. Give me all the dirty details.”, her cheeks flushed bright red ,”uh- not like that i mean tell me - uh - tell me something no one else knows about you or something.” She could have thrown herself off of the moving train at that point but Rosie just flashed her a smile and started speaking.

“Robert Rosenthal, from Brooklyn, New York. I was working in law before all this mess. I loved it. Graduated top of my class actually. But after Pearl Harbor, I couldn’t keep sitting on my ass while my country needed me so - I enlisted.”

“No secret wife or kids back at home?” Y/N poked.

“No ma’am. It’s just me. And - uh - as far as something no one on this side of the world knows about me - I was the captain for my college’s baseball team. I was trying to be the next DiMaggio.” a small chuckle escaping him as he finished his sentence. “Now what about you?” he asked, softly bumping his shoulder up against the girls.

“Nothing too crazy for me. I always loved helping folks, I was told my whole life I was meant to be a nurse. Once we started fighting this fight I knew I had to volunteer - sorta like you I guess. I’m not dropping bombs or toting a gun but knowing I patch you all up before you get back in the saddle is enough for me.” she sighed, turning up to glance at Rosie.

“And no secret husband out at war or kids back at home?” Rosie mimicked her early question. Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “God no, Robert. Where I’m from I don’t turn heads.” He took a moment to look at her, maintaining eye contact before he took his large hand and grasped over hers before pulling them on to his lap.

“Well Y/N Y/L/N you turned mine - and maybe after we get all this nonsense settled with the bad guys, I can give you a tour of Brooklyn. I know just the place that I’d love to take you dancing.”

“I’m most certainly holding you to it but for now, let’s explore London.” raising her free hand to the platform approaching quickly.

“Yes ma’am. How would you feel about a picnic?”

“That sounds absolutely lovely.”

Rosie stood up as soon as the train hissed to a stop, busying himself with gathering the overnight bags each of them had packed. He stubbornly insisted on carrying both to the hotel around the corner. Y/N knew they would have to enter as colleagues and nothing more, separating as they went to their respective rooms to drop off their bags before meeting again in the hallway.

“Let’s go find sandwiches.” he spoke quietly and Y/N nodded, falling in line behind him as they walked past the lobby and out to the streets. For the first time Y/N really took in the size of the city around her and she couldn’t even help that her jaw was almost to the floor. The Germans had done their share of damage but it didn’t lessen the experience for her at all.

“What is it, Y/N?” Rosie questioned, taking a step towards her.

“I’ve never seen a city like this before. This is just - wow.” Rosie broke out into an ear-to-ear grin. “It is awesome but wait until I take you to Brooklyn. We’ll catch the train to New York City and I’ll make sure you take the ferry to see the Statue of Liberty.”

“You promise?” Y/N broke from her trance to look up as Rosie smiled and turned to her fully, sticking out her left hand.

“I pinky promise.” he said, watching as Y/N connected their hands tightly. “You better believe it. I haven’t broken a promise yet.”

AUTHORS NOTE - hi friends, i hope everyone enjoyed this little part two to spilled drinks. there may be a part 3 to this little series if it’s wanted. please feel free to give me feedback or more requests as my inbox as open. i’m still new to this so i appreciate anything :)

[hocuspocusbabyy]

I’m sorry but just IMAGINE Eloise and Cressida as parents?!

Cressida would 100% be a full blown PTA mum, planning all the best events for her children’s school.

Eloise would inevitably be dragged along to help decorate and somehow end up agreeing the directing the school play - because she’s read the book a MILLION times! And “Couldn’t possibly let them butcher it.”

They’d have two daughters and a son. Aged, 5, 3 and 6 months. Lunet, Maeve and Benedict Jr.

Eloise would try sneaking treats that Cressida had baked for a fundraiser. Getting caught with frosting on her mouth, she swears blind to her wife she a no idea where it came from.

Cressida baking special cookies just for Eloise to eat! 😭

Eloise would read to the children every night, Cressida insisting she’s just there to tuck them in but ultimately sat across the bottom of the bed to listen too.

Cressida will often insist Eloise continues reading despite the fact the kids are already asleep, and they will have to reread that chapter again the next evening!

Uncle Benedict would love taking care of the children so their mothers may enjoy a walk or weekend alone 🥹 “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Though I suppose that doesn’t leave a lot.”

Uncle Colin and Aunt Pen would already arrive with an array of wonderful gifts. Eloise has a shelf of trinkets, many from Cressida and her family. Stemming from rocks, sea shells and pressed flowers to tiny figurines and bottles of sand from Colin’s travels.

Eloise secretly adores that Cressida insists on hanging Benedict’s painting’s in their home.

Eloise will often return home to Cressida and Violet sharing tea in the garden - Violet cannot go more than a few days without visiting her grandchildren.

Aunt Daphne and Cressida would take great pride in buying the children the cutest shoes and outfits - much to Eloise’s dismay when she finds her youngest in a ‘hideous’ bonnet. “Well what has she got this monstrosity on her head for? Oh my sweet girl don’t worry mummy will protect you from the taffeta.”

Eloise often getting emotional when spending time alone with her wife and children, free of any distractions. Forgoing her book to simple watch Cressida and their toddler play in the grass with wooden blocks.

Cressida tired at the breakfast table a child on either knee, as Elouise and their eldest read the newspaper out loud. Gently kissing their temples and stirring her tea.

Eloise and Cressida often indulging in a sneaky cigarette together at the end of a long week. Hidden out on the balcony to their room - their children fast asleep in the next room. Often shushing one another when their giggling threatens to wake them.

Eloise nearly having a ‘heart attack’ seeing her child on a horse for the first time, insisting her wife is insane and she’d prefer both ‘her girls’ back on the ground.

Cressida being the good cop, Eloise bad cop in many matters. I truly believe Cressida would be the biggest softy towards their children.

Eloise helping the children with their school work, whilst Cressida knits across the room (Cressida is utterly no help academically.)

Violet often insisting on taking the children for the evening because her home is simply ‘too big’ and Cressida and Eloise are ‘still young’.

Cressida and Eloise often opting to enjoy their meals in the form of picnic. Packing up the children to spend the evening down by the river.

Cressida rolling up her sleeves and teaching the children to skim stones.

Eloise sat waiting to aid them all in drying off when they’re done. The baby resting upon her chest.

Eloise often scolding Cressida more than the children, her wife simply brushing her off with terms of endearment or a kiss.

Cressida taking birthdays very seriously, waking up early to decorate the house. They keep Violets birthday hat tradition well alive. Eloise made her one their first birthday spent together and she still has it. Violet cried when they did the same for her.

The entire family often visit for long weekends and dinners - Eloise and Cressida opted to live in the country where there is more privacy and space for them.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Walls Are Crumbling: Part 2

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: You and Benedict announce your engagement to the rest of the Bridgerton family. They're ecstatic for you, as Benedict told you they'd be. But you still can't help but feel guilty for bringing Benedict into your mess.

A/N: oh no. i guess im gonna turn this into a mini series...

Part 1

Everyone in the sitting room cheers after you and Benedict announce your engagement. Anthony and Kate give the pair of you soft smiles and knowing looks. Of course Anthony told his wife. He could never hide anything from her.

"Well, I must say this isn't too much of a surprise," Violet Bridgerton stands from her spot and walks towards you, "We all had a feeling this was going to happen eventually."

You smile at the woman you saw as another mother, "Trust me, Violet, I'm just as surprised as you are."

Benedict gives you a nudge, silently telling you to shush. He then speaks up, "Yes, it seemed that both of us had been harboring feelings for each other for a long time. Didn't see a reason as to why we needed to prolong marriage. Therefore, in month's time, we seek to marry."

Eloise grimaces, "But that's so soon."

Benedict's hand intertwines in yours, "Well, Eloise, I've waited too long to have Y/N as mine, so the sooner we wed, the better."

"But not too soon," you pointedly say, "which is why we decided in month's time," you add, just in case someone else suggests you two marry today, like Anthony did last night.

"Did you tell your mother already, Y/N, dear?" Violet asks curiously.

You nod, "Yes, and it went as you'd expect it to."

The dowager viscountess gives you a tight lip look. She wasn't fond of your mother and how she treats you. She especially doesn't like how she viewed your friendship with Benedict as a waste.

"Second sons have nothing to offer," she's said often.

Kate approaches you, arm looping through yours, "Sorry, brother-in-law, may I steal her for a moment?"

Benedict cocks a brow at you, silently asking if you'll be okay. You nod, "I'll be back," you let go of his hand and follow Kate, whom is guiding you outside of the sitting room and into the hall. There, she asks you to tell her everything, since Anthony only gave her bits and pieces.

While you and the Viscountess talk, Anthony joins his younger brother, "Do you really think you should do this?"

Benedict looks at his brother with annoyance on his face, "If I don't, she'd be left off to her own. I can't let that happen, especially with a child on the way."

"A child that isn't even yours, brother."

He shakes his head and shrugs, "I don't care. I will love them as my own. They are part Y/N, so surely, I'd love them." He then scowls, "Lord Mattias is a coward for this."

"I'd argue that you're just as cowardly," Anthony murmurs, a hint of a smirk on his lips, "Marrying the woman you love and yet not even telling her how you feel."

Benedict scoffs, "As if I should be taking advice from you on how to handle love," he cocks a brow at his older brother, knowing the debacle between him, Kate, and Edwina.

Anthony's jaw clenches and he doesn't say another word, which leaves Benedict to chuckle. He pats his brother on the shoulder, "I'll tell her...eventually. Things are going to be chaotic for her already. I don't want to cause her any more stress. It'll be bad for her and the baby."

Anthony hums and walks away from Benedict, deciding to stand beside Colin, whom is sitting on chaise lounge chair.

__________________________

1 Month Later

You managed to have wedding dress made fairly quickly. Well, Lady Danbury definitely put in a good word for you that helped speed up the process. Your wedding, albeit not ideal, was still perfect. Although your words of love to Benedict during the ceremony were....not completely true, you still found yourself tearing up when Benedict repeated his vows to you. You thought marrying your closest friend would be weird, but throughout the duration of the month leading up to the wedding, it became less of that and more comforting.

Time and time again did Benedict reassure he wasn't going to leave you behind for the wolves, that he'd be there for you and for the baby. That you'd be well taken care of.

Post-wedding, the dinner was a bit overwhelming. So many people were congratulating you, echoing the same words everyone else had "We all knew this would happen eventually". But what exactly did that mean? Sure, a few years ago, you harbored feelings for Benedict, but did everyone see it? Benedict couldn't have seen it too, right?

"Y/N?" he squeezes your hand and you didn't even realize he was holding it.

You look up from your plate, "Hm? Sorry."

"Are you alright?"

"I-I think I'd like some air," you whisper back to him.

"Would you like me to come with you?"

You're hesitant to say yes, but your head moves before your mouth does. You're nodding and Benedict is immediately on his feet and excuses the both of you. Everyone watches the two of you exit the dining room, the chatter continues as you leave.

Benedict silently follows you to the tree that has the swings you two used to play on when you were young. once sat on one of the swings, your hand immediately going to your belly. You've been doing that a lot in these past weeks, just not in front of others beside Anthony and Benedict.

"Is something wrong?" he nods to your hand on your belly.

You shake your head, "Not with the baby, no. But I just-" you let out another deep breath, "This is all so much. I-I-" your eyes are tearing up, "I don't like that I've brought you into my mess."

Benedict kneels before you and grabs your hands into his, "Y/N, listen to me, you did not force me to do this. I offered to marry you because I care about you and I'd hate for anything bad to happen to you. You are my dearest friend. I won't let anything bad happen to you. Ever. Do you understand me?" thumbs away your tears as you nod, "Good." He stands up and kisses your head, "Do you want to go back?"

"Can we stay here for a little longer?"

"Whatever my wife wants."

"I have to get used to hearing that," you mumble as you start to slowly move yourself back and forth on the swing.

Benedict watches you with soft eyes, eventually moving himself on the swing.

[sad-scarred-sassy]

“Do you love him?” The question would play in her mind while holding her husband’s hand.

“Do you love him?” It would plague her thoughts while weakly smiling at him when he “gifted” her yet another piece of land she had no use for.

“Do you love him?” She would ask herself while making love to him, mumbling his name in the throes of passion.

“Do you love him?” When she would catch him picking up their baby, smiling down at him.

“Do you love him?” When crimes against females in the Hewn City escalated to inconceivable heights, and she begged him to let her try to help until he finally gave in.

“Do you love him?” When he yet again disrespected her sisters, and she had to try to talk some sense into him.

“Do you love him?” When she caught herself getting swayed by his words again.

Do you love him?

________________

“I went to Spring” She blurted out in the middle of their quiet dinner.

Rhys’ temper was usually controlled and calculated. Usually.

He dropped the silver fork onto the plate and the sound echoed through the empty halls of their home, violently breaking the sepulchral silence of their too big of a mansion. Even bigger and lonelier now that Elain had left.

His violet eyes studied her, other than the small tick on his perfect eyebrows, his face gave nothing away.

He picked up his glass of wine and looked at it before taking a sip. Feyre had decided to tell him, not because she felt guilty, even though she did, but because she wanted things to be better. She was tired of living a half life, she was tired of hearing the same old thing.

“All I do is for you and our son”

“I already told you why I made the decisions I made, do you think I’m a monster? Is that it?”

“What else do I have to give so that you finally see all I do is because I love you?”

She realized with no little amount of dread, that if she wanted him to finally speak frankly to her, then she would also have to do that. She would tell him, show him through her mind if she had to, but for the love of all that was right, she needed him to talk to her like she was a person, like he actually respected her.

She placed her fork and knife on the table, raised her napkin to her mouth, then took her glass of wine, one of the best wines in the Night Court, and drank. All the while Rhys’ eyes were fixed on her, no words coming from him still.

“Well?” He finally asked. “What could you possibly have to do in the Spring Court, may I ask?”

“I went to see Tamlin” She said as a matter of fact.

Rhys gave a short laugh, his eyes roving her face like a cat fixed on its prey. “Is this a pattern for you, Feyre darling? Did my time with you run out so you need to go back to the spare? Send me a raven when his time is up again so I can pick you up” He threw the napkin he had on his lap and stood up from the table, death and shadows emanating from him, engulfing him as he began to leave.

“I did not go there for that” She stood as well. He swirled and began striding towards her.

“Oh really?”

“Yes. I went there because I needed answers. Answers you were not giving me” She stood tall as he reached her, cold darkness engulfing her, daring her to succumb to him. She refused.

“How cute. Did you get your blessed answers from the Spring imbecile? Did he satisfy you, my love?” His eyes were vicious, almost feral. She had seen Rhys mad before, but never like this.

“He was honest with me” She said, not flinching at his dark energy.

“Oh?” He cocked his head, eyes digging into hers. “Is that a way of suggesting I haven’t been?” Already she felt the strain of trying to read him, the mental labour of having to analyze everything he said, to be on the lookout for hidden ways he could be trying to sway her.

“You know you haven’t Rhys” She fisted her hands, nails digging into the pads of her palm painfully. “Stop treating me like I’m stupid” She felt her jaw tremble slightly.

“When have I treated you like that, Feyre?” He snapped. “When I made you High Lady?” A sneer appeared on his face. “When I trusted you with the wellbeing of my court?”

“You’re doing it again!” She raged. “Stop shoving that on my face. I did not ask to be High Lady! I did not ask for any of this!”

“Oh but you did. You begged me to save you, you were so grateful when I did, you thrived in your power. Now you resent me for giving you what you asked for?”

“You- you made me want these things” She said more weakly. She had thought about this, why did it sound stupid coming out of her mouth now?

“I did no such thing” He lowered his voice. “You’re not stupid, Feyre. You know I did no such thing” He ran his hands through his short hair.

“Why did you go to him?” He looked at her now, devastation in his eyes. She felt the unstoppable urge to reassure him, to promise him it wasn’t what he thought it was. Something in her gut stopped her.

“I just needed to hear him out” She conceded.

“Why?” He asked again. “Is this life not enough for you?” He craddled her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. She saw her mate, the sadness and despair in his eyes, but somehow something was missing. “Am I not enough? Are we not enough?” He looked up for a second, towards the baby sleeping in his room.

“Why didn’t you give me the choice, Rhys?” She felt the tears forming around her eyes.

“I always gave you-“

“You didn’t tell me I would die” She choked.

He let go of her and turned to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This again, Feyre. We already discussed this to exhaustion”

“You never told me the truth” She was full on crying, arms around herself, shaking.

“What truth? What truth do you want? Huh?” He turned to her again. “Do you think I wanted you dead?”

“You wanted the child more than anything” She said. “I could have shifted but you didn’t give me the choice!”

“If you are not remembering correctly, I would have died with you! How would I want that?”

“It isn’t beyond you to put yourself at risk over your own objectives” She snapped. Something in his eyes shifted.

“Is that what you think of me?” He frowned, looking at her like she was a monster he had never noticed before. “Is that why you ran away to Spring in the middle of the night the first chance you had?”

His eyes were set on her, knowing.

That was it, in his eyes she had seen his sadness, his anger, his despair. Only one thing had been missing—surprise, shock. Looking at him then, the realization hit her like a slap in the face.

“You knew” She said softly, almost to herself. There was a flicker in his star flecked eyes. “You knew” she repeated, more strongly.

And just like that, Rhys’ whole expression changed in a second, a cold gaze falling on its place, one she had only seen directed at members of the Court of Nightmares, the one he had called his mask. She felt a chill run up her spine.

“I did” He admitted.

“H-how?” She stuttered.

“Azriel followed you that night, to his cottage” He glanced at his arm, picking at a speck of dust on his otherwise impeccable suit. “I had him watch you, since you weren’t trusting me inside your mind anymore”

She was so shocked she couldn’t even cry anymore. She only stared at him, agape.

He sighed. “You wanted me to speak frankly, didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t you do anything?” She found herself asking.

“There was nothing to be done, my darling” He frowned his brows slightly. “All you needed was a bit more work to distract you from your escapades, since our own child wouldn’t do it”

Another blow to her world. “The Hewn City crimes” She snapped her eyes back towards him in disgust.

“Now before you jump to conclusions, no, I didn’t somehow orchestrate the crimes just for my lovely wife to have something to fixate on instead of galavanting in an enemy court with her ex” He looked down his nose at her. He smiled at her, a demonic smile. “The crimes are a natural occurrence I just made you aware of them”

She searched his face, but could not find the male she thought she loved anywhere.

“Who are you?” She croaked.

“I’m your mate, I’m your equal”

“We are nothing alike” Her fists trembled.

“Oh, but we are, Feyre darling” He placed his finger on her chin and lifted her face. “Go, run to your ruined golden prince, tell him all the oh-so-awful things your evil mate has ever done to you, then come back to me and keep on enjoying the grand life I gave you”

“I will leave you” Her voice cracked.

“Be my guest” He said, a cold energy emanated from him, blasting the door of the mansion open. Her breath trembled.

He stared at her, waiting. Waiting for something they both knew would not come.

“You won’t” He said so softly, so confidently. “Stop deluding yourself thinking you had no part in the consequences of your life. You chose me” He said sharply, his cold breath hitting her face harshly. “You knew who I was, you always knew. You love me. I gave you everything” His fingers dug onto her chin, violet eyes still pinned on hers, as if trying to get inside her mind and control her thoughts. She wondered now if he had ever dared to do that.

With a sickening, oily feeling, she realized he was right. He had given her everything, while destroying everything she had been, reducing her to this adherence to his life, his world.

“Do you love me?” She asked him at last, silent tears streaming down her face.

His face was impassive for a moment, staring at her. He breathed a soft laugh through his nose.

“Did you ask him the same question?” He let go of her face.

“Answer me”

“He probably said he does, didn’t he?” He laughed humorlessly. “Of course that pathetic fuck would still be crawling for you, even after you dragged him through the mud”

“Answer the fucking question Rhys!” She felt the fire inside of her roar, the flames on the candles and chimneys lifting as she shouted at him.

“Of course I love you, is it not fucking obvious, Feyre?” He roared back. “You wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t!”

The room was quiet except for their raging breaths. Rhysand had finally showed her what he truly was, she had wanted him to, so why did she feel even more trapped and lonely than before?

“You’re right I won’t leave you” She swiped her wet cheeks, in an attempt to regain the last scraps of dignity she had left. “I won’t ever leave you” She slumped her shoulders.

“No, you won’t” He said, sounding defeated as well.

She left him standing there that night, feeling how her whole world crumbled beneath her feet. She spent the next weeks crying herself to sleep, until she didn’t have any more crying inside of her. She let him hold her still, even if part of her could not stand it, she needed the comfort.

So she stayed, and she faced her reality, and she accepted it. Accepted him and his cruel love. He was right, they were mates, they were equal, even if she didn’t feel it most of the time. It was all she had left, even if a small part of her still wanted her to fight, to riot. She focused on the good.

On the feel of his hand when she held it.

On the heat of his touch when he pleasured her.

On the work that he had allowed her to lose herself in.

On the sound of her baby’s laugh when he held him.

On the warmth of the family she had chosen.

She told herself it was enough until it was.

She did not go to Spring again.

———————————-

Read the previous parts on AO3

[house-of-slayterr]

Arcane x Little Reader:

Jinx:

Jinx is overjoyed to have another little around. Now she’s not the only one that gets it. Violet was her go to when she was younger and still regressing. But now that she’s older, she relies on Silco when she’s regressed. She doesn’t do well being little and alone.

But now she has you, a friend she can share this experience with. Jinx isn’t known to share, but yorue the exception. She loves drawing with you, sketching so many designs for her next projects. Or she’ll just straight up draw you in cute little outfits she thought up. She loves to draw all over your arms to give you temporary tattoos.

She loves to play and run and explore when she’s little. She’ll drag you everywhere with her, like you’re her favourite teddy bear. Depending on how young you regress, she’ll treat you more genetly. Baby regressors get to see the softest side of Jinx, and get the most of her attention.

If jinx is big when you’re little, she gets highly protective. Nothing hurts her little firecracker. She’s not as good as Sevika as shielding your from danger and trauma, as she was never shielded when she was younger. But she’s good at helping you deal with the after. She’ll even let people go if you’re scared enough, just to come check on you quicker to make sure you’re ok. The only person jinx shares little time with is Ekko, he’s the only one she trusts to look after you when you’re like this.

Silco:

Silco wasn’t new to this, as he already has Jinx. But he knew better than to treat the two of you the same. Jinx was fragile in a sense, but you don’t have to be so delicate with her. Jinx has seen his outburst, even when small, but you, he never dared to lash out near you.

If anyone made you cry or hurt you, lord help them. Their end would come violent and swift, no hesitation. He doesn’t mess around when it comes to your safety and wellbeing. If you’re upset enough, he’ll stay with you and send Jinx to deal with it.

He loves to hold you in his lap, if you’re quiet, he enjoys the peace. But if you’re a talker, he doesn’t mind that either, so long as it’s your voice, he’ll listen. He’s tender with you and doesn’t care who sees or if it “hurts his reputation”. He made some mistakes with Jinx that he doesn’t want to risk with you.

Safe to say you have everything you want with Silco as a caretaker. He’d give the world to you if he could.

Isha:

Isha adores you so so much. She’s so happy to have another friend to play with, especially if jinx is busy. She loves to play with your hair and paint your face. Depending on the age you regress to, if you’re a little older she loves to play games.

You’ll run and play tag, or hide and seek, or try to pull little pranks on Jinx or Sevika. But if you regress younger than her, she’ll act out stories for you, or make little sock puppets to keep your attention.

Isha is the best if you get hurt, because she knows how to stop your tears. She’ll crawl into your lap and try to get you to rock with her. Which usually ends up with the two of you asleep wherever you are, cuddled up together.

Isha loves to match you during little time. She’ll play dress up or copy your actions playing mimic. You’re her best friend ever, and she loves regression time.

Sevika:

Sevika was surprised at first. It took some explaining on your part for her to understand what was happening. You were worried at first it would creep her out, or make her think less of you. But all it did was make her more protective and jealous.

If anyone steals her baby’s attention, she’s fuming, she hates to share. She’s gotten into fight over you, some just small verbal spares where she’d try to hold her tongue to not swear infront of you. She usually tries to keep her tone low around you, especially when talking directly to you. But sometimes she still loses her cool. If anyone dares to speak bad about you, or worse, hurt you, well let’s just say you never see them again.

She’ll ask you to put on “eye covers” if she has to hurt someone so you won’t have to watch, and get more trauma. The thought of you being scared or sad, makes her skin crawl.

She’s ALWAYS carrying you when you’re big or little. As a caregiver it makes her feel safe to know you’re so close, and it makes her feel strong. Doesn’t matter what she’s doing, she will not reject an Uppies request. And she loves to sleep with you cuddled on her chest. You’re the most important thing in her world.

Viktor:

Viktor was quick to learn about your regressor tendencies, he’s a very observant man. When he isn’t working on his Hex Tech, he’s watching you. His best friend and the person he loves more than anything.

He started noticing you got cranky when you were tired, a trait you shared with Jayce, but he quickly realised it was more intense than that. It was a simple crankiness and a good nap always solved it. You’d be back to your normal self like nothing was wrong.

Then he’d notice you get quiet, your usually chatty self would withdraw as you got sucked into your own daydreams. Or how you’d get excited if something you liked was mentioned. He found most of your quirks quite adorable.

But the first day you fully regressed infront of him he understood, everything about you made sense. He sees you so small and fragile and wants to do anything to keep you safe from the scary things in the world. He’ll hold you close in the lab, or if you have to sit in the corner because something him and jayce are working on isn’t safe, he’ll give you his lab coat or let you play with his cane if he’s seated.

He takes more breaks if you’re little for a while, coming to check on you and play with you and your plushies for a few mins, or ask you engaging questions to keep your brain stimulated. He thinks you’re the smartest little he’s ever met.

A few times jayce has had to warp a blanket around the two of you because Viktor stayed late in the lab and you refused to leave without him. He’d sleep so peacefully with his little one safe in his arm.

“Little miracle” is what he calls you, because he finds it amazing how strong you can be despite your regression.

An: I know these are short, but I’m still getting back into writing lol

Tag: @mothmans-kingdom @kados-of-chaos

[fayes-fics]

Moments: Sweet and Spice

Moments Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgeton x fem!reader

Summary: One-shot set in the Moments universe. Benedict introduces his new baby daughter Isobel to his family (aka the sweet), and he and his wife flirt (aka the spice).

Artwork credit: @margowritesthings

Warnings: not much... a few suggestive lines of dialogue but otherwise all fluff.

Word Count: 1.5k

Author’s Note: Unbetaed. This is an Anon request fill (ask HERE) about Benedict introducing his baby daughter to his family, that I thought would fit well in the Moments universe. Enjoy! <3

As you pull up outside Aubrey Hall, James is sleeping in Benedict’s lap, and baby Isobel is asleep in your arms, the gentle rocking motion of the carriage soporific. It’s been a long journey from Wiltshire to Kent, and it is now early evening in late summer, dusk beginning to settle in.

“I don’t want to wake him,” Benedict murmurs, gently petting his six-year-old son's hair. 

“It is late,” you point out softly. “If you can lift him without waking him, perhaps we can get both our children to our guest rooms undisturbed?”

“Darling, I do so love your optimism,” he chuckles. “You do know everyone will be clambering to meet our new arrival, especially my mother,” he points out as little Isobel moves slightly in her sleep. 

“Can it not wait until morning? Surely they are all busy with evening pastimes, perhaps a spirited round of bridge?” You shrug.

Just then, Violet appears on the front steps, the sound of your approach obviously alerting the household to your arrival. 

The jerk of the carriage halting awakens James with a start, and Isobel's eyes fly open, large and concerned.

“So much for that plan,” your tone is sardonic as you brush your daughter's cheek reassuringly with your finger. She calms instantly. 

“Look at my mother,” Benedict says, briefly waving through the window. “She is practically beside herself to meet the next of her grandchildren.”

She does indeed look ebullient, rocking on her heels.

A few moments later, as the footmen open your carriage, James, as he did eight months earlier at your Christmas visit, leaps out and runs to his grandmother for a hug. She obliges, but as she does so, you can see her attention is on you, craning her neck to catch sight of Isobel.

Benedict assists you out of the carriage with a steady hand and then looks briefly confused as you hand him Isobel. 

“Go introduce your daughter to all of her family,” you smile, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I will ensure James does not feel left out.” 

The look he shoots you is pure devotion. 

“You can thank me later if you like,” you whisper cheekily with a wink, unable to resist flirting with your handsome husband; something about the sight of him holding your daughter so very stirring. 

His mouth falls open even as his pupils dilate rapidly. “You say such things before our daughter’s very ears?!” he gasps in mock indignation.

“Oh please, as if that is not the entire reason she exists,” you volley back, twisting your mouth into an amused pout as you walk, shoulders touching, towards the house.

“This conversation is not over, my dear…” he warns in a low tone that makes a tiny thrill zip down your spine just before you pull up in front of Violet with warm smiles.

“Mother,” Benedict beams with pride, “meet Isobel Violet Bridgerton.”

Violet’s hand flies to her mouth, and her eyes are immediately glassy. 

She kisses Benedict’s cheek and then looks down at the bundle in his arms, just three months old.

“Oh! She is the most beautiful creature!” She enthuses, “may I?” She gestures to take Isobel and Benedict’s hands her over.

“Hello, my lovely.” Violet coos, all of her attention on the babe as she walks indoors.

James patiently stands aside, and you crouch next to him, producing a bonbon from a sachet in your reticule.

“This is because you are such a wonderful big brother, James,” you smile as his face lights up.

“Thank you, Mummy!” He gratefully takes the treat and your hand as you enter the house.

There is a rapturous greeting as you walk into the drawing room, where the extended family is all gathered.

As you take a seat with James and wrap your arm around him, you watch as Benedict retrieves his daughter from his mother and stands in the middle of the room, holding her proudly in front of his siblings and their families. 

“This is my sweet, sweet baby girl, Isobel,” he announces to all but looking down devotedly at her as he says it, running a finger down one of her apple cheeks.

Again, he positively beams with pride as each person showers compliments and congratulations. You are so happy he gets to have this moment that he missed with his son. Your hand flexes on James' shoulder as you think it.

“What a darling!” Kate exclaims as she and Anthony move in first to take a closer look. 

“Congratulations, brother,” Anthony nods. “Mark my words, you shall never sleep another night of your life peacefully now you have a daughter,” he adds dryly as Kate swats his arm.

“Pay him no mind,” she breezes, “Isobel will be no trouble.”

“It’s the suitors I’m more concerned about,” Anthony responds, looking over at his own daughter, barely five, as Kate rolls her eyes at the absurdity of his concerns running at least ten years ahead of time.

“She is as beautiful as her mother, so I suppose I should ensure I stay fighting fit for when that time comes,” Benedict responds lightly, looking over to you.

“Do you not wish to join Benedict, my dear?” Violet asks as she takes a seat opposite you.

You cut your eyes pointedly to James, and she nods her understanding. Being the mother of eight, she is more than aware of the juggling act of ensuring older siblings do not feel left out with a new arrival.

“This is his first… baby girl,” you say pointedly, knowing she understands why you chose that phrasing with James present. “He deserves the spotlight.”

She clasps her hand over her heart, and her eyes are filled with emotion. “I could not ask for a more wonderful daughter-in-law or match for my son,” she affirms, reaching out and grasping your hand briefly.

“Thank you, Violet,” you demure, as both of your eyes cut back to that very man, now standing with arguably his favourite sibling.

“You made a good one there, brother,” Eloise concedes, “as in a girl who does not look at all like you, a man.”

He pulls his trademark face at Eloise, making her grin a satisfied smirk. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” you pipe up from across the room, “those are Benedict’s eyes, not mine.”

Initially, when she was born, Isobel’s eyes were like yours, but, as sometimes happens with babies, her eyes changed over the intervening weeks. Now it’s Benedict’s eyes that stare up at you every time she suckles from your body. The very same as it was with James.

Eloise seems to lean in and confirms your diagnosis with a conciliatory nod towards you.

“Ah, well, better luck next time,” she jests and returns to her book, even though you can tell she is secretly proud of her older brother.

Isobel is as good as gold as she is passed around the other family members, Simon and Daphne, Colin and Penelope, and even Francesca and Michael, whom you have only met briefly. 

By the time Hyacinth and Gregory bound over, Isobel is starting to fuss, and with a kiss to James’ hair and a murmur that you will be right back, you get up and join your husband, taking Isobel from him and soothing her with a rocking motion.

“I believe someone may be hungry and overtired and getting a touch fussy,” you pronounce.

“Yes, but enough about your husband, what of baby Isobel?” Penelope barbs and everyone laughs loudly; another new Brigderton wife who is more than up to the task of holding their own.

To keep up with the fun, you touch Benedict’s forehead as if taking his temperature. “There there, you are just fine, my darling. Be a good boy for your family,” you joke as they laugh harder.

He leans in. “I’ll be a good boy if you give me that thank you you promised me,”  he murmurs in your ear, their laughter drowning out the dusky words.

And just like that, your body flushes warm, and you stare at him enrapt, wanting nothing more than to be alone with him, even as your baby girl fusses in your arms.

“Good Christ. Get a room, you two,” Anthony grouses, but it’s entirely without heat, knowing the passion runs just as deep in his marriage, even with three children now.

“We would love to, brother,” Benedict quips. “Perhaps now would be a good time for you to appoint us a room?”

“Your belongings have already been taken there from your carriage,” Anthony replies smugly. “Third door on your left up the grand staircase. Your children have the adjoining nursery with your nanny, who is already there, as I understand.”

“Thank you, Anthony,” you nod, then turn your attention to your husband. “Stay here with your family; I will feed Isobel and put James to bed,” you smile at him.

“I will be there, anon,” he promises, kissing Isobel on the head and then dropping a kiss on your temple. “And I hope you are very naked when I arrive, darling,” he adds, sotto voce.

Some Moments are very auspicious indeed.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky

[karin-gespenst]

CtM s14e1 first watch immediate thoughts

well that ended better than I had feared it would. Thank you to everyone who posted about the content of the episode, that helped me go in prepared for the story of Paula. While it certainly is upsetting to see how the adults from the church were actively disturbing her instead of helping, I'm glad her parents finally saw that she needed care based on her actual situation instead of some religious belief.

The three different generations of unwed mothers in this episode show how their treatment in society has changed. Millicent had to give up her child and never met him again for decades, pretending that he never existed until his wife was at her front door. Nancy at least got to see her child growing up, and fought her way through all the obstacles that kept them apart. It may not be likely to have happened like this historically, but they are in a good place now and hopefully will have a happy future together. Paula now is going to a mother and baby home, I believe offscreen the midwives gave her some education about her body and now she will have an environment that is meant to support her in the coming time. If that home is the same one that Chummy works in, I believe there's a good chance that both Paula and the baby will be fine in the end. I was impressed how the scenes with Paula and with Colette were cut so close together that it was painfully obvious how young Paula still is. Sister Monica's words about children bearing children were raw and too true.

I'm open to the idea that Roger is a decent person and Nancy and Colette will be happy being in a family with him. It's going to fast for my taste and I blame that on the writers trying to bring Nancy's arc to a close way ahead of the series ending, because they have SO MANY characters to take care of. We haven't had a happily married couple for a while (apart from Turnadette and Fred and Violet - do they have a shipping name?) and supposedly that's what the show is about, or is it?

That religious differences situation with Nancy's future stepmother was interesting to watch, I've recently rewatched Derry Girls and there is certainly a lot of aspects that I won't understand as someone who grew up in a different time and place. I remember thinking that is ridiculous for two persons of different flavors of christian beliefs to be treated like some sort of inconceivably incompatible beings. and it's apparently still a topic today, my uncle and aunt had to get special license from the pope to get married if i recall correctly, and had two different priests at their wedding.

I liked the speaker at the raise the roof meeting, can she come and help Sister Julienne fight for Nonnatus House in the war against the Board?

Did I miss something about how Fred ended up being at the protest? Or was that meant to be a surprise for laughs?

the question of needing another cesarean once you've had one is still a topic today for good reason. All the women in my family who had one with their first baby also needed one for their second, or third. Phyllis being traumatised by the mother who died painfully while she tried to save her is very moving, and I'm glad that Rosalind was able to step in and help. That was a very good job she did there. I can also see how she is struggling with the hard aspects of nursing work, and the intersection with social work. You can be professional and do your best and come up with ideas, but there will always be another suffering person or pain you can't prevent. It's what made me quit social work ten years ago and I still think of the people I tried to help but couldn't because I'm just one person and can't cure everything.

So, Cyril and Rosalind. I understand the compelling elements of the story they have. We haven't had a long term story about an interracial couple yet and I get why they don't want to introduce someone new. With Joyce just going through divorce she's not the best candidate for such a story. Wait - maybe that would be interesting, since Cyril is also in this weird place of being separated and probably working towards divorce in the future. Lucille may have learned about herself that she does not want to be married anymore and prefers staying alone, or taking holy orders or something else. mutual agreement on ending their marriage would be something I can get behind. As I've seen it she never was very keen on finding a husband before Cyril proposed, so I understand if she doesn't want one anymore, especially not in a different country.

the next episode is going to hit hard as well, I guess. while rewatching I notice very much how the show has changed in pacing and how the episodes are more crowded and the ratio of fluff to grit is not always on point. still I'm happy that the show goes on and we meet more patients of the week with their predicaments that still relate to our lives today.

[writtenfangirl]

The Light: Epilogue

I wanted to see if it was possible for me to write the sweetest, most tooth-rotting fic I could ever write and I did.

Also, can I just say, I genuinely love reading people’s comments and reblogs on my fics. I write my fics as a hobby and it honestly astounds me that there are people out there who enjoy reading the things I write. It’s a privilege, seriously.

Part 1

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a large fortune, must be in want of a wife. However—“

“That is how you truly know this novel is fiction,” Benedict remarked, interrupting Y/N as she read from the book. She was laying on his lap, her back against the grass as the tree they leaned against shielded her eyes from the harsh rays of the sun. It was a beautiful day in the countryside, the breeze cool despite the heat of summer. Aubrey Hall sat below them, a towering figure despite their place on the crest of a hill. She could almost see the other Bridgertons out in the lawn, lazing about and spending the day together. Benedict had strictly forbade them from approaching them today and though she loved the other Bridgertons, the quiet was a welcome respite.

They’d taken a day together, just the two of them, after Y/N’s mother had written to her about her father’s current temperament. He still refuses to acknowledge Y/N’s existence after she refused to marry the Duke of Albany and chose to marry Benedict instead and Y/N’s father had told her mother that any child borne of their marriage will not be his grandchild. The letter had brought Y/N great pain and Benedict, in an effort to make Y/N feel better, had prepared a picnic for them and a whole day without responsibilities or talks of grandchildren and babies.

Because children was something at the forefront of every person’s mind when they came upon a childless wedded couple and Y/N’s and Benedict’s lack of a child had begun to worry Violet, especially as they had been married for a year. Despite repeatedly telling Violet not to worry too much about it as they were both very young and wanted to spend the early days of their marriage child-free, she did worry.

Y/N loved the Bridgertons like they were her own family but she missed the time she spent alone with her husband. Hence, Benedict’s idea of a picnic, just the two of them.

“And why is that?” She asked as she brought the book down and quirked a brow.

“I have met a great many men who have large fortunes, most of whom do not wish to marry.”

“What an astute observation, my love.“

“Do you mean to treat me with sarcasm, Mrs. Bridgerton?” Benedict’s brow was raised high but there was no denying the amused grin pulling at his lips.

“I treat you only with the best of my affections.” But her teasing smirk betrayed her true intentions. “Now, am I allowed to continue my reading or do you intend to interrupt me once again?”

Benedict leaned his head back, before tapping a finger against his chin. “Hmm. As much as I enjoy the sound of your voice, I do believe there are other activities better suited to it than reading. Although, if I were to interrupt you again, what, perhaps, would be the consequences of such an action?”

“Separate bedrooms.” Y/N’s grin could only be called devilish. She knew how much Benedict detested sleeping in separate rooms. They tried it the first two nights of their marriage before he declared that such an action was more akin to torture than rest. Ever since then, they occupied a single bedroom and it will remain that way until one of them perishes.

“What a grave consequence to such a small infraction. Very well then, my love. Continue your reading. I’d hate to have to learn to tolerate separate bedrooms.” Benedict’s face scrunched up in distaste.

“If we manage to read through the first three chapters, I will sit for you for an hour.”

Benedict’s face lightened, an almost giddy expression on his face. “Really?”

Y/N nodded, a smile gracing her lips. He’d been begging her for the past three days to once again sit for a painting as he thought the backdrop of Aubrey Hall would be beautiful, and though Y/N loved Benedict, sitting for a painting was always painful for her back. It took almost all of her concentration to sit still for the hours necessary to complete the painting and by the end of it, Y/N needed a very long and warm bath.

“Why you always choose me to be your subject is beyond me,” she said with a sniffle, “especially since my face now stands in the National Art Museum because of you. Is one painting of me not enough?”

“You have a very beautiful face. It should be shared with all of England.”

“You know how I hate myself in paintings.”

“How unfortunate for you to have married an artist enraptured by your looks.” This time, it was Benedict who’d let sarcasm run his tone, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

“I adore art and so a painter for a husband was the natural choice. I simply do not like myself in paintings. I love your landscapes and your portraits of others but not of me.”

Benedict frowned, a serious tone creeping on his voice. “You, my love, are a thing of beauty. The paintings I make of you will always be my favorite. When I one day perish, it is my fervent hope that my paintings of you will be the ones that live on. That it is my paintings of you that the art students of tomorrow will study, that they may learn how passion and love can heighten the beauty of one’s art. Anyone can paint a sunset or draw a landscape but no one else can paint my wife but me.”

She will never ever be used to Benedict’s sudden declarations of love. She had married an artist, that much was true but sometimes, she imagined Benedict could be a poet with the way he articulated his love for her.

“You are incorrigible, Benedict Bridgerton.” But her words couldn’t hide the rising blush of her cheeks nor could it hide the bashful smile creeping at her lips.

“For you, my love? Always.” Benedict said with that crooked grin before bending down and placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Now make haste and finish your chapters before the sun disappears on us. When I paint you, I want it captured by the light. Such beauty should never be kept in the dark.”

She didn’t pretend to act irate anymore. Instead she kept reading until she ended at chapter three. And when she was done, the sun was still high in the sky yet her husband’s face had turned contemplative.

“I have finished. Shell we go inside that you may now paint?”

But Benedict only frowned, his dark brows meeting together at the center of his face, his bottom lip pushed into a pout.

“Whatever is the matter, my love? The sun is still high in the sky and you still have time to paint. And as I don’t expect you to finish your painting all too soon, you can expect me to sit for you tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that one as well until your painting is complete.”

He smiled at her, the little grin she loved so much. “Sorry, my love, my mind wandered but not towards the painting.”

Now it was her turn to frown. “Speak of what ails you, Mr. Bridgerton, that I may find its remedy.”

“I was only thinking—“

“Oh, did it hurt terribly? There, there, my love. Let me kiss your head to make it better,” Y/N teased as she reached for Benedict’s forehead in an attempt to soothe it. If there was one way to ease the mind of any Bridgerton, it was through humor.

Benedict rolled his eyes but he still had that smile on his face. “Stop it. I am being serious.” But he bowed nonetheless, pressing a kiss on his wife’s hands.

“Alright then, go on. What were you thinking of?”

“In all the years humans have existed, there have been hundreds upon thousands of ways we have told each other how much we love one another. Shakespeare measured his love with sonnets while Bach composed music and Da Vinci made art.”

Y/N frowned once again. “Where are you going with this?”

“I make my art as a form of telling you how much I love you but I realize now that, it is not enough.”

“Darling—“

“Art is not a good enough medium nor is poetry or music. There are not enough words or notes or paint in this world that could show, truly, how much I love you. I do not think I love any differently than Shakespeare or Bach or Da Vinci but I do think you make all the difference in the world. If they loved you too, they would have struggled just as much as I do.”

Y/N was at a loss for words. Her heart soared, giddiness spreading all across her body.

She and Benedict had only been married for a year. A full year of bliss and happiness. She’d heard it said by other ladies that marriages normally went stale after six months and she herself had seen how little regard her parents had for each other. In fact, her own mother refused to speak to her father when he refused to come to Y/N’s wedding with Benedict after Y/N refused to be wed to the Duke of Albany. And even now, after a year, he refused to speak to her.

She knew she was lucky. She married the man she loved, a man who loved her just as much as she loved him. It was a fate most women of the ton could only dream of yet to her, it was reality.

“Benedict, I don’t even know what to say,” Y/N said, her voice filled with the same amount of love as her husband’s declaration.

“Say nothing. I can read your eyes clearly enough,” Benedict said with a smile before he leaned down and planted another kiss, this time on her lips.

His lips were soft like butter and tasted like summer, like the sweetness of the cool breeze and the light of the sun. He tasted like home.

There were still many things wrong in Y/N’s world.

Her father had still disowned her and they hadn’t spoken since she last saw him that fateful day in the drawing room at Aubrey Hall. There was still the manner of Violet Bridgerton probing for a grandchild. But she knew one thing and that thing brought her peace like no other. Everything could go wrong in this world but so long as Benedict Bridgerton was at her side, then everything would be all right.

[kittyamore0]

Slashers with a Vampire S/O:

[PART II]

CW: Biting, marking, breaking of skin, blood, slightly dom, immortal, GN! reader, blood kink and drinking blood

LITTLE NOTE I: Im in a slightly good mood and i wanted to write another character even though they aren't a slasher, but as a bonus!

LITTLE NOTE II: I've been up since 3AM working on this and then other things. Its currently 9AM and im having crucial back pain

BONUS: extra character

EXTRA CHARACTER: Violet Harmon

MAIN CHARACTERS: Stu Macher + Billy Loomis, Carrie White, Freddy Kruger, Tate Langdon, Bubba sawyer, GENRE: Headcanons

Fandom: Horror

STU MACHER + BILLY LOOMIS

Stu wouldn't believe you at first.

Billy tends to stalk you from time to time, so i think he would know

You also know that your loving, killer boyfriend stalks you

So you also know that he knew.

"Uh, Sweetie, you do realize its not Halloween yet, right?"

You scoffed and flashed your fangs at Stu and Billy

"Might be fake-"

"Bitch, please!"

Stu playfully rolled his eyes and smiled

Suddenly, you ran past him

But way too quickly

"Wait-- What the fuck?--"

Billy just snickered at him

"What are you laughing about?"

Stu narrowed his eyes

"Ive been knowing, you fuck-rag."

Stu did in fact realize you were not lying.

"And you didn't tell me?!"

"They just did,"

"You--"

"Enough."

Stu kept whining the whole week after that

He would ask stupid questions

Like Tif, he would watch Vamp movies with you

He will let you bite him just to feel how it feels

Sometimes it'll go well with Stu, sometimes it wont...

He needs like 20 years to recover from that bite

And other times, he feels like hes floating

"I feel high! Is this what you felt when they bit you, Bil?"

"No, i felt horny."

...

"Wait, wha--"

Now, with Billy

He loved it when you bit him

He has a major blood kink

You marking him, blood seeping down his neck as you drink from him.

He also loves looking into your crimson eyes

He thinks your eyes are really pretty, but he wont admit that

Maybe if you manage to bribe him

He does know that he can actually die if he lets you drink as much blood, so it only happens once awhile

He will bring you back some victims as ghostface though!

Be prepared for loving phone calls from your loving boyfriends telling you how much people they've killed

CARRIE WHITE

She did believe you, but it took her some time to process stuff

I mean, she's got powers. Why wouldn't she believe you?

She sometimes thinks about how her mom would react

Her mom would be absolutely pissed

But she doesn't care

she's not letting you go anytime soon

And she doesn't plan too

You don't drink from her because her body is already fragile enough

She never brought up that idea either

I mean, she has thought about it, but she knows that you would refuse instantly due to both her physical and mental health

She would let you drink from her, if it meant saving you in some kind of way

She doesn't ask too many questions about it and treats you like any normal person, but with extra and special attention since you're her S/O!

When shes upset, her powers get out of control and she has flung knives at you...maybe more than one.

But she really didn't mean to!

She can't control it!

She freaks out when one of the knives at you, dropping her upset mood

Then you have to reassure her that you're immortal, so it wont affect you as much

"Carrie, sweetie, im okay--"

"I-it wa-was in your th-throat!"

"Again, not like im dying--"

She was so upset the first time it happened

She tried running away and locking herself inside her room, but you were much stronger than her, so you held her close until she was calm

"Shh...its okay, its okay."

"i--im-im sorry, im sorry..."

Poor baby :(

But you will pamper her after shes calm down

:)

FREDDY KRUGER

Hes gonna believe you, since you know, hes a dead, burned, sleep demon--

But he wants proof

Crimson eyes or bright changing eye colors? check.

Sharp fangs that can hide themselves? Check.

Blood lust?

You tried biting him the first time you guys met and he caught you eating more than one person in your dreams.

So yea, Check.

He makes dirty jokes about your powers

Speed?

He'll say something along the lines of..."Well, lets see your pace in the bedroom--"

You start fist fighting him every time he does say something like that

But sometimes you'll play along with his little flirting game

And the second you do, theres a thick lump in those worn out pants of his

The next thing you know, you wake up naked

Oh, and because of that supernatural crazy stuff,

You find a way to see the demon through the day instead of night now!

Through spells though

But as long as you're seeing him!

TATE LANGDON

Hes known way before you've met him, and thats because hes known you longer than you've known he existed

When he did reveal himself, like his true self, which is being dead, you realized about him knowing about your little secret

And the other ghost in the house

yay.

I mean, you were planning to tell your boyfriend Tate that you were a Vamp, but he knew

So that spares you the explanation and proving

You were just glad he knew

Tate, i feel like when he tells you that he knows, he'll compliment you.

How he loved the way your eyes would change color

How he loved your powers

And how he loved you, most of all, all of you.

All the confessing would definitely lead to a passion make out, and maybe even further

And dont tell me 'no'. This shit would be like a telenovela, but it got to the part that they are confessing

And im listening to 'or nah' by The Weeknd right now, it's a sign.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

He would treat you like his normal S/O, not caring about the fact you are a human-blood-drinking creature.

He would suggest you be a vampire for Halloween, since you know, you're already one...

"Haha, so funny. I'm not gonna wear those weird human versions of vampire cloaks!"

"C'mon, it'll be funny!"

"Okay, how about this; You wear those ghost costumes, the ones where theres just holes where the eyes are and ill dress in one of those weird vampire cloaks."

"No, not in a million years!"

"It's either we wait a million years then, or you wont ever get to see me in that vampire cloak~"

"Okay, you win!"

"So, deal then?"

"Deal."

Whenever you have your blood lust, he'll offer up his cold flesh for you to bite through and let his bitter sweet blood soak out

But in the end, you can't.

Dead blood in fact makes Vampires very ill

And though it saddens him that he cant help you, he'll understand.

He wont let you drink his blood.

No matter how much pain you're in.

He can't risk putting you in even more pain

So he mostly goes invisible when you have your blood lust

And he waits in the corner of your room for you to come back from hunting your meal

Calm cuddles after your blood lust while listening to Nirvana

He absolutely loves that you are immortal

You can stay with him, forever.

Forever and ever. With him, and only him.

VIOLET HARMON -- THE BONUS

Violet has also known, like Tate because she has been watching you.

You also knew she was a ghost in the house from the day she came up to you

How? When words about the infamous 'murder house' were being spread, so did the word Violet

And you might of seen a picture or two of her when people would talk about the murder house

She kinda has no choice either

She also was really interested in you when you moved into the house

She was obviously shocked when she found out you were a vampire

She did not expect that at all

I mean, she grew up knowing that vampires didn't exist

And yet, here you are

before you guys started dating she was the classic-

sorta stare and not talk

Only because you're a vampire and she doesn't wanna trigger anything--

Okay...shes was nervous.

She has a literal crush on a hot vampire who is living in the house she died in!

okay, the 'died in' part is uh, just not needed

And she did really want to talk to you, she just needed a push

Tate.

"Okay, Vi, you got this..."

She took a deep breath

"shit, never mind. i don't got this--"

"You do."

She yelped when the familiar voice had appeared from behind her.

"Tate...?"

"yea, sorry. I just wanted to say that, uh, you should go for it. Its now or never. They might be a inmortal , but they wont stay here for long without, um, value? So, uh, go for it."

He flashes Violet a small smile before walking way

"Thanks..." She mumbled and continued to stare at your figure

fuck it.

"Uh, h-hi,"

Her heart felt like it was about to pop tf out her chest

Wait, it dont beat no more.

But still felt like it

You felt like you were trippin'

Are you actually talking to a cute, dead girl right now?

Yes. Yes you were.

"Hi, Violet."

She froze up.

How the hell.

Did one of the ghosts tell you?

What.

"How did you--"

"Oh, it was easy. A lot of people talk about this house, and you."

oh, right.

Well, shit.

"What, cat got your tongue?"

Yes.

"N--no, im fine--"

You just chuckled at her

Why in the hell were you so calm???

"Do you wanna talk a little? im sure you didn't call me just to call me."

"Yes! i mean--sure!"

You guys hung out the rest of the night and it was amazing.

She found out things about you

You found out things about her

A win-win!

She'd hate when you have your blood lust

Because 1. You're scary as hell

2. She hates seeing you in pain

3. There's no blood available for you in the house because its all dead blood, we dont want you to be sick

4. She hates waiting long for you to come home

Long naps with you after you got back from hunting

BUBBA SAWYER

You told Bubba from the start of the relationship!

I mean, why not tell your cannibal boyfriend that you, are in fact, a blood thirsty vampire

At first, he was confused

A vampire in texas...?

A real, REAL vampire.

Complusion to make him less confused

Oh, now he gets it!

Wonder why...

He'll still love you

Vampire or not

constant babbling about how he loves your crimson eyes

HATES it when you have your blood lust

He hates seeing you in pain

Tries feeding you his victims

Gets even more upset when you tell him you can't have dead blood

Hes on his way to find some more victims

You can count on him!

He'll come back with 2-5 victims

Maybe even more if there was some event going on nearby

He'll sit you on his lap and cuddle with you till' you feel better

He coos at you but you have absolutely no idea on what he's saying!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦