#devilish arrangements

[ozzgin]

Just read your arranged marriage kidnapped by a most post and the humor in the servants always thinking reader is in peril. The same going for monster hubby (He just thinks they're submissive and breedable)

Like none of them realize they are a moster fucker cause they hide it so well. Like just imagining reader be like "oh be gentle with me I'm a dainty maiden" and then giving him the night of his life is hilarious. Or them having dinner and the servants feel bad for them cause monster hubby is eating human meat but their just thinking about other things he can use his tongue on.

Or maybe someone comes to rescue them from the terrible monster finally. But they don't wanna leave and instead fight the knight off. The knight thinks they've been brainwashed or something. Meanwhile the servants think the knight just wasn't good enough to rescue them.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, NSFW! [Part 1] | [More Monsters]

The servants are not blind by any means: they can tell, quite plainly, that their monstrous Lord has a soft spot for you. Not only that, but the beast nearly worships you! They've come up with many theories, the latest one involving witchcraft. Surely you must have some sort of magical trickery under your sleeve in order to subdue their Master. There's no other way around it. All previous humans have been devoured, or have died in a pitiful attempt to escape, terrified to the bone upon gazing at his blasphemous Majesty.

You can't blame them. It's probably better for everyone involved if you omit the fact that your source of witchcraft lies in your...genitals. Well, not just that, of course. Your husband had started to lose hope. His appreciation of humans never came to fruition before your arrival. He was expecting you to cower in fear, not throw yourself at him.

He wondered if you wanted something from him in return, but no one could possibly pretend so flawlessly: the way you clung to him unprompted. The way you hungrily took him in, tears welling in your eyes, refusing to let go until you could feel his load avalanching down your throat. The way you'd trap his hips with your legs, despite being weak and feverish, asking that he doesn't stop yet. If that wasn't proof enough, your whines and moans were loud and clear. To think he could have his own little human, one who isn't repulsed by his monstrous form. He would've been content with mere tolerance, yet someone who begged to be fucked by him? He's been delirious ever since.

He loves everything about you, naturally, but he can't deny the shameless addiction he's now developed towards your body. He'd pound you anywhere and anytime if he could. If he needs to leave for official matters, know that the return will burn in the back of his mind.

"An important date, Sir?" one traveling servant will ask, glancing at all the scribbles in the calendar.

"Indeed", he answers solemnly. It's the times when he can finally fuck you dumb.

While the servants worry about their devilish Master being put under leash, for the other fellow humans the opposite seems to be true. You recall your last "rescuing" attempt distinctly. During one of your evening walks, burly, foreign arms swept you off in an instant. Before you knew it, you were holding onto the armored shoulders of an unknown man, as he made his way out of the traditional garden.

"I'll get you out of here", he promised between heaving breaths.

You stared in confusion. What was he saving you from? A good dicking? No matter how much you explained that you do actually like your newly appointed husband, the hero wouldn't budge.

You ended up just walking back home when the man fell asleep.

"That was quite the long walk", your monster partner remarked, polishing his weapons.

"Oh no, I was kidnapped", you state casually. "Got us some fruits on the way back."

Would it have been better to lie about it? On one hand, you do feel terrible for whoever attempted to retrieve you from the claws of the tyrant. Your husband is very possessive, and you know he'll scorch the Earth until that treacherous pest is gutted and fed to the pigs.

On the other hand...he becomes particularly savage after such incidents. You won't be able to sit properly for the next few weeks, but it's worth it.

Tough luck, you tell yourself, lounging in bed with a satisfied smirk and torn apart hole.

[iris-qt]

𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚒𝚘

🫧 ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

🫧 ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

🫧 ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

🫧 ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪᴄ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴏɴᴇ. ɪ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴜʏꜱ’ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀꜰʀᴀɪᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴏɴᴇ!

🫧 ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴜɴᴡɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜꜱ ᴠᴀᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ɪᴛᴀʟʏ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇɴ’ᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴅ ʀᴜɴ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇxɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ: ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ

Azure blue skies and endless summer breeze tails you through the rolling green countryside of San Gimignano, Italy. This was true, pure bliss. A flow of relaxation that you haven’t felt since…Merlin knows when. The stress of endless exams and finals, everlasting prefect duties, and bickering with your horrid nemesis really left a mark; as represented by your unrelenting dark circles and deep forehead lines.

But at least all of that was giving way to the Italian atmosphere and it left behind a happy girl that would donate a kidney to spend her entire summer here. Unfortunately you were only visiting for a week before school began once more; your final year. This brought a sense of dread to your heart as you would miss the enchanting castle. Your second home.

You pushed that aside as you zoomed through the countryside of this ravishing country on your cute little teal Vespa. Truth be told you’d never driven a muggle vehicle before, but there’s always a first time for everything.

And so your lack of experience with muggle vehicles was the cause of you not being aware that gas has to be filled. You thought the meter getting closer to 0 represented the dissipation of your happy mood as you were, per usual, plaguing yourself with paranoid and pessimistic thoughts. The sudden shuddering of the Vespa made you lose balance and you began veering off track, you and your precious vehicle zooming down a hill with the sheer force of gravity. You screamed for dear life, and, at last, landed in a shallow pond with an enormous splash.

You bobbed up, gasping for air, and scrambled out of the lake quite ungracefully, summer outfit ruined and soaking wet. And suddenly, you heard a scarily familiar, devilish chuckle that just so happened to find your tragic predicament amusing: your mood as drenched as your clothes.

As you slowly glanced up trembling, not knowing if your shaking was from the water, shock, pure rage, or all three, you made direct eye contact with a certain boy musing at your tragedy. His eyes were overflowing with humor as he was leaning against a tree, his tanned legs crossed over each other. He seemed to be reading a book which he put down as he had found something better worth his attention. He gracefully stands up, a complete contrast from how you scrambled out of the pond, much to your annoyance.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven, angioletto mio?” He smirks.

“Nott,” you scoffed. “Small world…or cruel fate,” you stand there, dripping wet, arms spread out like a martyr.

Of course you knew the insufferable Theodore Nott was Italian and often visited family here, but you didn’t think you’d be subjected to his presence in such a big country, especially in the less populated countryside. It was truly just cruel fate that brought this spawn of satan before your eyes.

“I didn’t know you were that desperate to see me,” Theodore cocks his head to the side, quite enjoying this arrangement. “Risking your life on a muggle vehicle zooming to my town.”

You roll your eyes, and if you were in a cartoon universe, trust that there would be steam coming out of your ears.

“Trust me Nott. I had no intention to run into a walking headache on my vacation.”

The insufferable git kept smiling, moving closer now, standing right in front of you so you could smell the usual dizzying scent of sandalwood and pine. Summer edition Theo had a hint of citrus mingled in with his intoxicatingly annoying scent.

“I already got you soaking wet, now you just have to get naked,” he laughed with the most disgustingly smug look on his face that you almost slapped off.

“Are you done?” You glared at him, ready to storm off and free yourself from the torment of his presence.

He shrugged, looking you over.

“Need help drying off?”

“I need help out of this conversation.”

“Oh stop, y/n, you can do better than that,” he grinned

You sigh very well aware you had no other option. You hold out your arms and shut your eyes waiting for his casting of the Hot Air Charm. Since you had resolved to live the simple muggle life for this vacation, your wand was locked in a vault at your hotel room.

Theo laughs, “Are you waiting for a kiss, principessa?”

You open your eyes, confused. “No, I’m waiting for you to dry me off like you said, idiot.”

He laughs again shrugging and says, “I don’t carry my wand around my domain, there’s no need.”

“Then, pray do tell me, Nott, what was your plan in helping me?”

He gives you the most shit-eating grin and grabs your hand, scaring you a bit, then begins pulling you up another grassy, verdant hill: one that isn’t hiding a body of water behind it. You have the urge to resist, but just give in. The drop from your adrenaline-rush you’d been maintaining for the past 3 days had collapsed, causing you to come down with an attitude of resolve. He dragged you up the hill, your wet sandals making squelching sounds, each one demeaning you more and more. You hated this shift in power where the perfect git was overshadowing you. You hated it. You hated him. I think.

“So why were you in the countryside? Other than wanting to see me so badly, of course.” He looks behind him and shoots his watercolor poison into your soul as he makes that unblinking eye contact. Another thing on the meter-long list of things you despise about him.

“I was in a self-deprecating mood and decided to ruin my record streak of relaxation by finding you,” you deadpanned as you rolled your eyes for extra affect.

“Y/N relaxing? You must be lying.”

He chuckled a bit as you two stopped at the top of the vast hill, looking down to a meadow of wildflowers. They glowed like colorful jewels in the blinding, comforting summer sun.

“What’re you gonna do, push me off?” You smirked, half wishing he’d do so. Maybe this was all a nightmare. A beautiful, lush, tinged with the familiar scent of Theo nightmare.

What you didn’t expect, however, was him saying:

“Precisely.”

And with a surprisingly gentle tug, he pulled you down on the top of the hill, pushed you back in a laying position before you could protest, and quite literally pushed you down the hill. You screamed as you, for the second time that day, gave all free will up to gravity, rolling down the hill at a crazy speed. You knew Nott was your unproclaimed but painfully obvious nemesis but you never thought he’d attempt murder. You finally stopped and lay there, sprawled on your back, heaving from the rush. It was kind of…fun?

Theo rolled down right next to you, laughing, as he sat upright. There was grass in his curly, brunette hair that you couldn’t help but reach out to pluck. He looked away quite shyly. Did your eyes deceive you, or did he just blush? You must have heat stroke. Good thing you had your wet clothes to keep you cool: they were significantly drier now.

You stand up and Theo starts laughing in a way you’ve never heard him laugh before. It was almost…endearing?

You put your hands on your hips teasingly and ask, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

He chuckles affectionately. “Mio angioletto, you have something…everywhere.” He bursts into laughter again. “Beware grass woman rising from the Italian hills,” he gasps through his fits of laughter.

You couldn’t help but smile so wide; his happiness was almost as contagious as his teasing.

You look down and realize the grass was sticking all over your outfit, covering you in verdant greeness. There was an itching sensation bubbling to your skin, but you ignored it. You couldn’t help but join in with his laughter as you could imagine you looked like green Chewbacca.

“Is this your sick way of tar and feathering me, Nott?”

He recovers from his laughter and stands up with you, peeling a wet blade of grass from your cheek.

“Alas, you have uncovered my motives,” he teases, grinning.

“Well, your actual motives didn’t work. I’m still sopping wet.” You wringe out the side of your shirt for dramatic affect as it produces a downpour of water.

“There’s more to my motives, mio angioletto. If at first you don’t succeed, try try again.” He grasps your hand again with a beautiful look on his glowing face and pulls you up to do it all over again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Until the sun is caressing the distant hills, getting ready for its nightly departure. The sky is painted shades of teal and purple; still bright but just so. The breeze is still gentle, and so is Theo’s hold on your hand, as he guides you back to his tree by the wretched pond.

Don’t ask yourself what you and him were at the moment. Don’t ask yourself how years of rivalry and pranks. Of stress related to the both of your never-relenting efforts to beat the other. Don’t ask how that all faded away, as you sat in the setting sun.

Unfortunately, it isn’t in your nature to just ignore logic. And Theo knew it. So he distanced himself from you in light of the passing moment of rolling down flower dotted hills, letting go of your hand. It was as if an igniting flame in your heart had been stifled. He sat across from you by the tree. A silence falling between you two.

The slight itching you had felt earlier had been slowly increasing, and as the fun fell away, it began grabbing your attention. The feeling was in your throat now…something wasn’t right. And that’s when you remembered something that Theo’s warm presence had melted away from your mind. As if your brain had tricked itself to forget about this important fact to permit you and Theo’s fun. You were allergic to wildflowers. If exposed to them for a long time? Horribly allergic.

You started coughing and then choking, pointing to your neck to alert Theo to the problem. His eyes widened as he realized what was happening…he had noticed your uncharacteristically red skin, but he had dismissed it by thinking it was the sun’s doing. How could he overlook this?

Your choking grew louder as you fell onto the grass, Theo scrambled around crazily not knowing what to do in his initial panic.

But then he remembered

He pulled out his wand and cast a healing spell which would diminish every affect of an allergic reaction. You started being able to breathe again and your throat cleared, along with your skin returning to its original color and texture. You were gasping in shock, slightly embarrassed that you had been in such pathetic situations in front of Theodore twice today. You were both holding each others’ arms and breathing deeply. You recovered slightly, attempting to lighten the tense mood.

“Well, if your true motive was to kill me, Nott, I’d say you almost succeeded.” You let out a weak, unconvincing laugh.

“I..I am so sorry, y/n, I genuinely didn’t know..” he looked crestfallen. More shaken than you in fact. Wait a minute…

“Hold on,” you raised an eyebrow, your shock of almost dying completely gone and replaced with a new shock. “I thought you said you didn’t have your wand?”

Theo’s eyes widened sheepishly and he grinned, looking as guilty as ever.

“Ok listen before you throw a fit-“

“I don’t throw fits, I diplomatically argue.”

“Before you throw a tantrum, let me explain.” Theo runs his fingers through his hair looking nervous, and, for the first time, failing to make eye contact.

“I just…I knew you’d leave if I just dried you off. You only stayed because you needed help and, well…” he sighs.

“Well?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about you all summer, y/n. I lay awake all night and I day dream all day. I swear I even saw you in the stars..” he gives a nervous, strained laugh.

“You never leave my thoughts, but I was sure it was just because I had to prove myself. To beat you. But you didn’t even leave my brain after school ended. You haunt me every day. When I saw you I thought I was hallucinating, like, genuinely.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking the most vulnerable he’s ever looked.

You look at him, eyes blazing with emotions you had denied yourself. Emotions that fought to be seen but you always pushed them back. You couldn’t fight back anymore. What were you even fighting against? God, you had some serious issues.

“And so you lied to make me stay?”

Theo nodded, looking to the side, up at the darkening sky.

“Maybe it was the universe that brought me here, because what are the fucking odds?”

You both laughed at that, eyes shining despite the escaping light around you.

“Theo, in my last 3 days I’ve been in your beautiful home country, I’ve visited so many places. The Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, the Uffizi Galleries. So many amazing places, and I’ve experienced the most inspiring ordeals. But today was, by far, my favorite day.”

Theo regains his composure after hearing that, playfully judging her with his shoulder .

“Because of me, hm?”

You roll your eyes, looking away.

“Say it, principessa..” he prompted, gently holding your face and focusing it towards him.

You dramatically sigh and admit, “Yes, Theodore Nott. Because of you.”

He smiled the most breathtaking smile. If only you could capture a picture of it, but unfortunately your camera went down with the Vespa. You lay your head on his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut, so that his bright smile could be engraved into your mind. Definitely a core memory.

After many moments of comfortable silence, Theo perks up.

“Oh! By the way, dolcezza, I realized I said the pickup line wrong when you struggled out of the swamp.”

You rolled your eyes at his impertinence and said, “First of all, it’s a pond, Theo. And second of all I did NOT struggle. I emerged like Aphrodite in a shell.”

“Ok my little swamp monster,” he annoyingly nuzzled his nose into your hair as you fought to hold back a giggle.

“Okok let me say the line.”

“Go ahead, Theo.”

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Because you have the face of un angelo.”

He grinned his shit-eating grin as you pretended to retch at the line. Jumping up with the fireflies around you, you tagged Theo, reigniting that competitive streak you both so closely shared. You both laughed like maniacs as you raced up the hill again, fireflies dancing around you in a waltz.

[vixstarria]

A night at the inn (part 2)

Smut galore!

Part 1 here - it's the build-up to this, but not required reading if you're just after some smut

Astarion x Tav x Halsin, Astarion x F!Reader x Halsin

18+, smut, threesome, porn no plot, dirty talk, oral sex, PIV, various kinks in passing, soft dom Astarion, Astarion being a little shit

Approx. 2,700 words (what the hell, how did that happen)

AO3

“Is it company or privacy you desire?” 

You and Astarion, who had been lying on top of you, one of your legs wrapped around his hips, turned your heads towards the druid, who paused in the doorway.  

Astarion turned back to you to give you a wicked look, as though to say it was your call, before untangling himself from you, with a final slow teasing roll of his hips.    

“It seems... Astarion desires a show…" You followed him with your gaze as he got up to pour himself more wine, searching for any signs of apprehension or anything that resembled a slipping mask. You saw no such thing. “...And I desire to indulge him,” you added, turning to look at the druid.  

“Only a show?” Halsin frowned, but stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. “I am more than happy to accommodate that, only I thought you of all people would like to take part,” he added, looking at Astarion.  

“It’s... complicated,” said Astarion, sliding back onto the bed and letting you lean back against him. “Darling, would you care to explain our current arrangement to our friend?” he asked, trailing a finger down your neck, sending a tinging shiver down your spine.  

“Astarion has been taking a break from anything below the waist, for himself...” 

“Say no more, I understand,” said Halsin.  

Astarion raised his glass and nodded towards Halsin, glad to not need to explain himself any further, before taking a sip.  

"And you?” Halsin asked, his voice a low and sensual rumble, his eyes piercing through you. Now that the smaller details were out of the way, you suddenly realised just what you had gotten yourself into, and you found yourself at a rare loss for words.  

You’ve done this before, but never in such fine company. And never with the added complication of having to take anyone’s feelings into consideration. 

Astarion’s fingers slid further down, below your collarbone, and slipped beneath the fabric of your blouse, circling down to one of your breasts. 

“You are not taking any ‘breaks'?” Halsin continued, approaching the bed, breaking eye contact briefly to follow the motions of Astarion's hand, as he started to roll and pinch one of your nipples, before looking back into your eyes, quizzically.  

You'd hardly started, and already you felt utterly exposed, a heat growing beneath your stomach. You were completely overwhelmed. Articulating anything was impossible.  

“Darling..?” Astarion said, softly, when you did not reply. “Are you with us?” 

“No breaks, only insatiable cravings,” you managed, wetting your lips. You tilted your head back to look into Astarion’s wine-coloured eyes. “I think I need you to take control,” you murmured. 

“Oh? Getting timid all of a sudden?” he set his wine down to brush your lower lip with his thumb. “You want me to tell him how to scratch your itch? Make sure he does it right?”   

“I trust you,” you nodded, swallowing.  

Astarion breathed a quick soundless laugh and gave you a brief but tender kiss.  

“Very well...” he lifted his gaze to regard Halsin. “Her sweet lips are mine, but you can have free reign over the rest of her, unless she says otherwise,” said Astarion. “My love you will speak up if there is anything you don’t enjoy?” he asked, lifting your chin to make you look at him. “I can’t make every decision for you, pet.”  

You nodded. Halsin took it as a cue to finally break the distance between you. He started by lifting your leg to unlace your boots. 

“What do you want to see?” he asked Astarion. 

“Hmm,” he deliberated. “I think... No, I know she wants to be fucked senseless. Don’t you, pet? Tell us.” he urged with a devilish grin, his eyes still locked on yours, as you managed a weak ‘mmhmm’. “Let’s see that.”   

Halsin pulled off your boots and before you knew what was happening, one of your feet was in his mouth. You gasped as you felt his tongue swirling between your toes. 

“I knew he was absolutely feral!” laughed Astarion. “No no, let him do it,” he added as you squirmed. “But you are completely overdressed for all this, love.”  

Astarion pulled your blouse off over your head, exposing your breasts, and began to undo the lacing on your pants. Halsin attempted to pull them off but they got stuck around your knees. For the first time since you've met him, you saw exasperation on the druid's face, as he struggled. 

“I would outlaw clothing if I could,” he growled.  

This seemed to amuse Astarion to no end, as he fell back onto the bed, pulling you with him. You somehow ended up being flipped onto your stomach and into Astarion's arms by Halsin, in his fight with your trousers. You giggled as he finally managed to pull them off.  

”Are all your dirty dreams coming true, darling?” Astarion whispered to you, kissing your neck below your ear. 

You felt Halsin's bulk lower himself onto you, holding himself up over you and Astarion with his arms to either of your sides. He left hot, open-mouthed kisses down your back, starting from the opposite side of your neck. You were caught between the coolness of Astarion's skin and the heat that was radiating from Halsin's body.  

“This is impossible,” Halsin groaned as he realised that you were still in your smallclothes. Having run out of patience he resorted to simply tearing them off you in a swift and deliberate motion.  

You let out an involuntary squeal as Astarion wedged a knee between your legs and used it to spread them apart for the druid. 

“Be a good girl now and don't cause any more trouble,” he purred. You hummed your assent and lifted your hips up, your face buried in Astarion's neck. 

Halsin's tongue plunged into you, lapping up your wetness, making you let out a moan.  

Astarion tangled his fingers into your hair at the back of your head, near the roots, and pulled on it to lift your head up. 

“I want to see your face while his tongue is in you,” he whispered. “He’s being good to you, isn’t he?” You held Astarion's gaze as Halsin continued to lick between your legs. You tried and failed to stifle another moan and arched your back further, as he dipped lower to tease your clit with his tongue. Astarion moved his hand to caress your face, before parting your lips with his thumb. You caught it in your mouth. “Yes, I can tell he is... But you want more, don’t you?” You sucked on his thumb and nodded with a whimper, looking into his eyes. “Don’t be shy... Tell us what you want...” You grazed Astarion's thumb with your teeth and giggled, shaking your head. You knew he wouldn’t let it slide though.  

“You brat,” he smiled, his eyes narrowing, before looking past your shoulder and raising his voice. “Don’t give her anything unless she asks for it, nicely. In fact, you should stop what you’re doing now.”  

To your dismay, the druid lifted his head from you. 

“It would be my pleasure to help teach her manners,” he said. He stroked your wet slit with his fingers in place of his tongue, but it was only a tease that made you crave more.  

“Beg him,” Astarion said, grinning, pulling your hair to turn your head sideways, so you could take in a view of the druid over your shoulder. 

You shot daggers at Astarion with your eyes. You were glad he was enjoying himself so much, but this man, who had been flicking his tongue over your asshole just seconds prior, was supposed to adhere to your authority at tomorrow morning’s itinerary discussion meeting.   

“Please...” you managed.  

“Please what?” smirked Astarion.  

“I may have a hunch about what she wants,” said Halsin, slipping a single finger in, shallowly, just one phalange deep, and sliding it in and out of you, teasingly. “Is this it?” 

“No, no, she needs to say it herself,” interjected Astarion.  

“I want more...” you moaned. 

“More?” Halsin slipped a second finger in, keeping it agonisingly shallow. 

“Your cock! I want your cock deep in me... Please...” you were too frustrated to care anymore.  

“Good girl...” purred Astarion. “I’m going to remember this, you know,” he added with a smirk. “Next time you get too sassy with me, I’ll just recall our fearless leader begging for dick.” 

“Listen here, you-” you started, exasperated, but were cut off by him pulling you into a deep kiss. He trailed his hand down your stomach until his fingers reached your slit, dipping in. You moaned into his mouth as he began to gently roll your swollen clit between his fingers the way he knew you liked.  

You heard Halsin discarding his own clothes behind you, and were about to turn to look back, but Astarion held your chin.  

“Ah-ah, no peeking! Let’s keep it a surprise.” He looked over your shoulder. “A very... big... surprise.” 

You felt Halsin start to work his way in with his cock, in slow, rolling thrusts, gradually filling you, inch by inch. You were completely soaked, and stretched to accommodate him, but gods he felt huge. Exactly as big as you would expect by looking at the sheer size of the druid himself. 

You whimpered as he filled you completely and began his deliberate, rhythmic thrusts.  

“More than what you’d bargained for, darling?” Astarion whispered in your ear, continuing to rub your clit. “But you’re taking it so well, my good girl...” All you could do was whimper and moan, as he continued to stroke you and whisper obscenities to you. “That huge cock, all for you...” 

“She’s starting to quiver around me already,” groaned Halsin.  

“Is she now?” Astarion removing his fingers from your clit. “Do we need to talk about manners again? You don’t want to be rude to our friend by coming so soon and all by yourself, do you?”  

“I’ll be good, just don’t stop, please” you whimpered. You could not handle another interruption. 

“You have some catching up to do,” Astarion directed at Halsin.  

Halsin’s thrusts sped up to an infernal pace, as Astarion pulled on your hair again to lick and nip at your exposed neck, running his tongue over your fresh puncture wounds, where it still felt so sweet for you.  

“I’ll be generous, I know how much you want it,” Astarion rasped in your ear. “I want it too.” 

He resumed rubbing circles around your clit and you found yourself falling to pieces, a mewling mess. 

“Don’t get shy now... That’s it... Let us hear how much you like it,” Astarion continued, hoarsely. 

You felt the first ripples of your climax coming on, your moans mounting louder and deeper with each wave.  

“Fuck her through her orgasm. She likes that,” Astarion threw over your shoulder.  

Halsin’s thrusts somehow got even harder then, and you screamed into Astarion’s neck as your pleasure completely overtook you. The sound of skin slapping on skin had already been loud enough to hear halfway across the inn, if anyone in the adjacent rooms had been sleeping through that, they were awake now.  

Halsin’s penis slipped out of you and you collapsed, melting into Astarion’s embrace, no longer able to keep yourself up.  

“Still enjoying yourself, my sweet?” he whispered only loud enough for you to hear. “Do you want more?” 

“Gods, yes,” you answered.  

“We’re not done yet,” he said louder, with a grin, as Halsin pulled you off the vampire by your waist, flipping you onto your back on the bed.

You spread your legs as Halsin settled between them, sitting up. He couldn’t have been far himself, as he entered you again, with quick, needful thrusts, lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder. Your breasts bounced with every thrust, and you raised your hands to hold them, pinching your own nipples. 

“What a sight you are...” purred Astarion, off to your side. “Let us enjoy the view better.”  

You let go of your breasts and raised yourself on your elbows, eager to enjoy a view yourself as you watched Halsin’s cock ram you, slick with your wetness.  

Suddenly you were distracted by Astarion unlacing his pants to release his pulsing cock. Unable to contain his need any longer, he began to stroke himself. You couldn’t look away. 

“Can I have it in my mouth..? Please..?” you implored.  

There had to be a delicate balance to your pleading.  

You knew he didn’t want to feel pressured. Not even by your need and desperation.  

You also knew how he wanted to be wanted. He loved to hear you beg. He revelled in it. In the knowledge that he had such a grasp on your arousal. He would often tease you relentlessly. Usually, he would allow you to find your release eventually, whether with his fingers or tongue, or just from grinding against him. A few times, you pleasured yourself for him, while he watched. But sometimes, it was just a ‘no’ despite the teasing he had initiated himself. Being in control was another thing he revelled in.  

“Desperate, are we?” he breathed. 

“Astarion, please... Anything... Just a taste.” 

He lifted your chin, angling your face toward him. 

“Just the tip, with your tongue. I’ll take all your treats away if you get too greedy.” 

You hadn’t done this since before your talk about wanting something real together. Your heart just about leapt into your throat.  

He continued to stroke himself as you swirled your tongue around the swollen head of his penis, licking up his precum, looking into his eyes.

“I’ve missed this too, my sweet” he murmured as he watched you through his eyelashes, his voice thick. 

Halsin was being a complete menace, rubbing your clit and licking the arch of your foot, and you started to get carried away, close to climaxing again, and wrapped your mouth around the tip of Astarion’s cock. 

“Ah-ah! Make sure she behaves,” Astarion said to Halsin. 

Halsin pinched your clit, just enough to make you jump and distract you. You moaned and continued with just your tongue, as Halsin pounded into you.  

“Shall I go easy on her?” Halsin asked.  

“Absolutely not,” said Astarion. “Just a little longer, love. You can hold out longer for me, can’t you?” he asked you, stroking your cheek with his hand.   

This was becoming impossible. Between Halsin’s incessant thrusts and stroking of your clit, and your added arousal from finally being able to taste Astarion, you were losing your mind. But you did not want to come before he did.  

“I can’t!” you gasped between strokes with your tongue. “I can’t...’ 

Halsin took some mercy on you then, pausing the circles he had been drawing around your clit, as everything else continued. 

Astarion was breathing harder, stroking himself faster.  

“You can come for us now... Come for me...” he rasped. 

Two more firm strokes of Halsin’s thumb, and you came undone again, your walls clenching around Halsin, your legs shaking, just as Astarion’s cum filled your mouth, some of it spilling and leaking down your chin and the corner of your mouth. You were completely spent, as you swallowed what you could. You barely even registered Halsin pulling out his cock to spill his own seed all over your chest and stomach. 

Astarion knelt down next to you, trying to regain his breath, and pressed his forehead against yours briefly, before drawing you into a kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. You felt his lips breaking into a smile as you kissed.  

A short while later you lounged on the bed, your head on Astarion’s stomach as he played with your hair, your legs thrown across Halsin’s lap. Halsin was fiddling with his herbs and pipes again.  

“Care for more catnip?” he asked Astarion. 

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” Astarion rolled his eyes. “But yes. ...Only to prove that it’s not going to do anything this time!” 

Sure enough, a minute later Astarion once again sat with a ditsy expression, on the verge of breaking out into inane giggling. 

“Gods, I’m not sure I can handle him like this again,” you sighed, shooting Halsin a reproachful look. 

“This is a beautiful, glorious thing - he is embracing the opportunity to get reacquainted with nature,” the druid shrugged. 

“Tell us about the bear you fucked again,” Astarion tittered.  

~~~

Part 3

AO3

Hope you enjoyed, check out my other work

[fangisms]

summertime at the burrow

A/N: i want to be an honorary weasley please im literally begging. notice me molly weasley

Pairings: Best Friend!Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fred finally invites his best friend home over summer holiday. Neither of you expected it to go so well. 3.7k words.

Warnings: fluff, best friends to lovers, ungodly amount of shenanigans, friendly bullying/teasing, mud wrestling, kissing, (friendly) violence, pet names (trouble, snookums, sugarplum, sweetheart), cursing, borderline frog abuse

"Good morning, trouble."

You hop into the seat next to him that he’d been saving for you. In fact, he’d been saving it for you since the first time you plopped down beside him after the sorting hat declared your house first year. You laughed when he shook your hand. He thought you had the cutest smile. Then you teased him for his devilish charm and he called you catty, and you’ve been teasing each other ever since.

"Are you packed and ready?” He sounds more worried than that time he nearly shattered his collar bone during a vicious Quidditch scrimmage. “We're leaving bright and early tomorrow. Mum says she's preparing a hearty lunch for our guests." Fred scarfs down the rest of his breakfast and turns to look at you to find you're looking back at him in bewilderment.

"Somebody's excited," you tease, ruffling his fiery locks and glancing over at George with a grin.

"If you think this is bad, you should see him before winter holidays," George huffs.

“I have.”

Fred rolls his eyes at you and you jab him in the side.

"Where are the lot of you off to?" Lee perks up from across the table, setting his plate down and wiggling his way between Alicia and Angelina.

"I finally got my honorary invite to the Weasley burrow this summer," you chirp, wrapping your arm over Fred's shoulders and leaning him into your side.

Lee cocks a brow and smirks at a suddenly and uncharacteristically shy Fred. "Well, it's about time! You've only been dating for—"

You shake your head. "No, not dating, Lee. I swear we've been over this—"

"Oh, we've been over it plenty. I just choose to ignore wicked witches when they lie—!"

You practically leap across the table with your teeth gritted to grab for his robes when you're stopped by the laughing twins holding you back from tearing into him. "Lee Jordan, you take that back right now, or so help me your mother will wonder why your hair's gone purple!"

"I'm not going to apologize for being lied to!"

"Let me at him! I'm trying to defend my honor here!"

"Miss—young lady!”—McGonagall appears behind you, sending you into shock and barreling back onto the bench—“Settle down! You're frightening the first years, and we typically prefer they come back in the fall."

"Apologies, professor, I was simply trying to have a friendly discussion with my classmate," you say, gesturing to Lee who smiles begrudgingly.

"Right, well, from now on, let's have our discussions from across the furniture, not on top of it." She wanders away, and you turn to stick your tongue out at Lee who is doubled-over and cackling at your being caught.

“I hope you know, we’re going to receive the same third-degree from my dear mother,” Fred mumbles in your ear. His heart races when you turn to him, a playful glint in your eye. You blink sweetly and rest your hand on his knee when he tucks his arm around your lower back. “But don’t worry, sugarplum, it’s never too late to try.”

He winks. Your eyes go wide, and you shove at his shoulder with a chuckle disguised by a scoff.

“Scabbers not the only rat in the Weasley family, I see.”

“That is exactly what I’m talking about, there’s no way you two are just friends—”

A slice of ham sticks to Lee’s cheek with a cold, wet slap as you eye him from across the table.

“Don’t listen to him, snookums, he just doesn’t understand our complicated arrangement,” Fred says, nudging your cheek with his nose and holding back laughter.

“Gross,” George mutters, grinning before he’s met with the same lunchmeat backhand his friend so rudely received. “Suppose I could’ve predicted that one.”

…

You wipe the sweat from your brow, slinging your carry-on over your shoulder before bending down to pick up your trunk. You’re trailing behind most of the rest of the group, just a few steps behind the twins while their younger siblings charge ahead through the field with Harry and Hermione. Fred checks in with you every couple of meters, making sure you don’t need any serious medical attention.

Once the twins breach the front door, you take a seat outside on your trunk, fanning yourself with your hand and throwing your head back. Then you hear:

“Fred, you better get out there and help that poor girl with her things!”

“Sorry, mum!”

You chuckle when he appears in the doorway moments later, winded as ever, hair plastered to his forehead, and still grinning wildly as he jogs over.

“What’s a lovely young lady like yourself doing outside all alone on such an unbearably hot afternoon?”

“Sweating like swine.”

“Ravishing,” he teases, shooing you off the suitcase, “head inside, mum’s absolutely itching to meet you.”

So you do. You can see her welcoming her children and their friends alike, and it fills you with the warmth of fresh gingerbread and the nerves of a teenage boy during school dance season.

“My dear!” she coos, arms outstretched even though a thin year of sweat coats every inch of your body, even though you’ve been wearing these clothes for a day, and even though you’re breathing heavy like a dog. She’s got her arms outstretched like you’re family.

“I’ve heard so much about you from Fred, and, goodness, you’re even prettier than he said you’d be!” —She gasps when he walks through the door, hauling your trunk in tow—“Don’t tell him I told you.”

“It’s been five minutes and you two are already sharing secrets about me. Only seven more days, Freddie,” he mumbles, setting the trunk down with a thud.

“Oh, well! It’s wonderful to finally meet you, dear, Ginny will show you to your room and lunch will be ready once you’re all settled!”

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley—”

“Oh, none of that, call me Molly.”

Your brows knit when she smiles at you so gently before making her way back to the kitchen.

“Thank you, Molly!”

Fred hops up from where he’d been relaxing on an armchair, clapping you on the arm with a reassuring smile.

“Everything processing alright up there?”

You nod.

“Peachy. Now give me a smile, you’re scaring me.”

You squint at him and pinch his arm, simpering when he hisses and swats your dry-gulching fingers away.

“That’ll do!”

“We’re up this way,” Ginny chirps as she rushes by and tugs you by the hand up the stairs.

Fred watches after you, rubbing his arm with a mean look on his face just before his playful resentment fades and his affections settle into the apples of his cheeks. This is going to be a long seven days.

…

Fred had never invited anyone to stay at the burrow. He preferred the company of his close family and whoever his mother deemed Weasley-enough herself. But he’d been saving this invitation. It stewed in the back of his mind for years before he mustered up the courage to offer it to you.

Ridiculous. That’s how it sounded in his head: ridiculous. If he wanted to ask you, he should have done it at the first chance. That’s what Fred would do. But he could never bring himself to get the words out whenever he swore to himself today would be the day. Because you’d just look at him with those damned doe eyes—you’d test his boundaries and make him all gushy inside—and it was like he was suddenly turned to a tongue-tied and pathetic halfwit.

And now here you are. An unofficial part of his family. But nevertheless a part of it. You’d found the annual Weasley strawberry-picking trip to be wonderful despite Fred pulling cheap pranks on you and the fact that it was basically sweltering outside. When you returned, you all spread out in the family room with bowls of the dewy berries in each of your laps. Everyone claimed a seat while you and Fred were forced to share the hardwood floor. You ended up tossing the small fruits into each other’s mouths with your legs laid across his thighs.

At one point, he lands one of the berries down your blouse. Almost immediately, he starts to laugh, clutching his chest while you gawk at him.

“You better start running, trouble.”

He gulps and scampers to his feet before scurrying out the front door. You take off after him, shouting curses into the wind when he rounds a corner.

You follow his footsteps but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“I swear, if I ever get my hands on you—”

He grabs your waist from behind you, dipping down to whisper in your ear. “You can put your hands on me whenever you’d like, sugarplum—”

“Merlin’s Beard, Fred! You scared the shit out of me!”

You jolt away, and he thinks you look genuinely angry this time. But he smiles and your features soften. Then you’re after him again, bounding into the tall grass with an uproar of laughter.

…

You spend the next few days of your vacation trying to beat Ron at chess then deciding it may be better if you and Harry team up to try and beat Ron at chess. You also take Ginny and Hermione shopping while the gaggle of boys trail behind the three of you grumbling and whining about missing their beloved Quidditch game.

You offer to help Molly with every meal, and she only accepts once you convince her your desserts are a crowd favorite back home. She’s proud to say she’s impressed, and she grows even prouder when you admit you adore big families like hers and see at least two kids of your own in your future.

Arthur takes a liking to you after you listen to him rave about the kind of items muggles use day-to-day and how fascinating their modern technology has become in recent years. He’s thrilled to find you actually take interest in his tinkering and collections and whatnot.

But most of all, you spend your time at the burrow with Fred. He steals you away after meals and keeps you up late to teach you his favorite charms. One overcurious evening finds you two perched together on the bathroom floor whispering and giggling while you brush a bold smokey-eye onto his eyelids. Let’s just say dinner that night was nothing short of hilarious: a look that Fred will never live down.

On the fifth morning, you jostle him awake. He whines about the sun not even being up yet while you drag him down the steps and shove your socked feet into an extra pair of rubber boots.

“What’s the bucket for?” he whispers, traipsing down the path along the side of the house when you stop dead in your tracks.

“Shh!” You press your gloved finger to his lips. A chorus of croaks erupts from the marsh beside the house. Nothing out of the ordinary for Fred, in fact that sound had often soothed him to sleep. But there’s a dangerous glint in your eye that tells him you’re on a mission.

“Can’t we do this when the sun is up? It’s cold and I’m tired—”

“The faster we catch ‘em, the faster we can go back to bed,” you whisper as your boot sinks into the edge of the muddy body of water. He sighs and sinks in next to you with his hands on his hips.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this. You’re lucky you’re so pretty or you’d never get away with anything.”

You purse your lips and wade a little further out, looking out at the cooly rippling water beneath the sliver of sunrise.

“Yes, I would,” you say, quietly but so matter-of-fact he’s inclined to believe you.

Just then you spring into action, shoveling a small frog into your bucket with a victorious grunt. A few minutes later, he shuffled over to you and lowers his cupped palms into your bucket: three more frogs settle down into the center with a wet plop. You beam up at him, and it’s worth the early morning trouble to see you so happy and have you so close.

“So what do you plan on doing with these poor creatures once we’re done?”

You sit on the bank of the waterbed, sighing and setting the bucket beside you. He watches you from the water while you examine the small blob of darkness in the center of your palm. The bottom of the bucket is lined with croaking frogs, and the sun is well above the horizon, dousing the sky in soft pink and warm rose.

“I’m going to let them go.”

He lets out a sharp breath, hands falling to his sides, leaving streaks of mud down his tee shirt.

“You’re joking.”

You look up at him. You’re not joking.

“No,” he huffs. “You did not drag me out of my nice, warm bed to catch a million slimy frogs in the freezing cold dark just to let them go again.”

“Oh, but I did.” You’re crazy, he thinks. You’re crazy and it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. Doesn’t make you any less crazy, though it might make him much less sane.

You set the frog down in the grass and leave the bucket tipped over. The small creatures immediately flood out from the splotchy tin opening into the newborn daylight and the crisp morning air. You stand and wipe your hands against each other a few times, scrunching your nose and finally meeting his eyes again.

“What’s wrong, trouble? Cat got your tongue?”

You grin.

“You know, one of these days, I’m going to say ‘no’ to you, and it’ll be a rude awakening.”

Fred walks past you like he’s really mad. Like it was an uncrossable line and you treated it like the tape at the end of a marathon. He’s hulking back towards the house when you grab his wrist to get his attention.

“What?”

But you don’t look sad. You don’t look pitiful or hurt. You look like you’re scheming, and it drives him crazy. As if he could ever say ‘no’ to you.

“You think I’m pretty,” you coo, batting your lashes just to get on his nerves. His breath hitches, and he feels warm despite the nipping cold of the morning.

“Unrelated.”

You drop his hand and cross your arms over your chest with a pout. He continues leisurely toward the burrow, tossing his gloves to the ground with a huff of hot air.

“Fred?” you call. And you sound worried, so he’s compelled to whip around. But when he does, he’s met with a rude awakening.

It was a misstep. A silly mistake, the wrong footing. Easily avoidable, and yet he didn’t avoid it. So he’s ass-first into a mud puddle with you shrieking in laughter about a meter away.

“You’re awful,” he grumbles, both hands propping him up and seeping into the thick mud as seconds tick by.

“I’m sorry! Freddie, I’m so sorry,” you cackle, taking a few steps toward him with tears of joy in your eyes. “But you should have seen your face!”

“Help me up,” he says, shaking his head and wiping his hand down his pajama pants before holding it outstretched to you. You grab it and tug enough to leverage him out of the muck. But he doesn’t budge. And in that moment, your eyes are filled with fear. Then, with one jolt, you topple down into the mud right beside him.

“Fred!”

“An eye for an eye, sugarplum.”

You push yourself up onto your hands to find your entire front is caked in mud, the mess narrowly avoiding your chin and above.

“You’re going to pay for that.”

“Oh, bring it on,” Fred teases.

You smirk just before a handful of mud is smeared across his chest by your slippery glove.

“Your move, trouble.”

He shakes his head and chuckles, looking down at the abstract art work fondly. But not quite fondly enough to hold himself back. His fingers dig into the puddle determinedly just before patting the top of your head with it like a stray dog. You squint your eyes closed and groan before peeking one eye open and coating his cheek in mud.

You make it to your feet and Fred hurls a ball of mud at your ass but he misses and it lands in the grass in front of you. You bolt around the back of the house, but he hurls a hunk towards your shoulder blade. You yelp and shout at him:

“You’re supposed to be a gentleman!”

“I’ll show you a gentleman, sweetheart,” he hollers it just before he catches up to you. You squeal and nearly slip on a slick patch of grass, but before you can leap out of his reach, he grabs your upper arm and presses you against the tree just behind your back.

“That’s not playing fair, Freddie, I’ve got nowhere to run,” you say, breathlessly grasping at the edge of his shirt with a tired smile. He chuckles and plants one palm against the bark beside your head, bringing the other hand to cup the side of your neck.

“You don’t need to run anywhere,” he mumbles, “just stay here.” The dried mud on the pad of his thumb draws a swipe of dirt down your cheek. Your fingers curl around his wrist and your lips part sweetly when he leans in.

“Time to come inside, you two! Breakfast is ready!”

Your eyes go wide when he leans his forehead against the tree with a grumbled curse.

“I suppose I am quite peckish!” you chirp, dragging him along behind you all the way to the front door. You leave your boots and gloves outside and brush some of the dried dirt from your pajamas.

You sit across from him at breakfast and catch him stealing glances at you every so often. With a mouth full of food, you wink at him with a dirt-smeared face and almost make him spit out his juice when you kick him under the table. George teases the two of you about wrestling in the mud while Molly scolds Fred about tracking it into the house.

…

Before long, you’re facing the final night of your stay. You’d been dreading the end since the beginning, and now that it’s here, you’re heartbroken. It’s been nothing but fun and you’ve never felt so wonderfully vulnerable with so many people around.

But the thing you’ll miss most is Fred. He could sense you pulling away the last couple of days. Trying to shield yourself from the impact of reality. No matter how hard he tried to cheer you up, he knew nothing could stop you thinking about how much packing up and leaving would hurt.

With your things splayed out across the floor of your temporary room, you had started packing hours ago but kept finding ways to distract yourself and avoid the idea of leaving altogether.

“Need any help?” Fred knocks on the doorframe, leaned against it and wearing the blue jumper you once told him he looked best in. You smile up at him from the floor.

“No,” you huff, “but some company would be nice.”

He perks up and shuffles around your belongings to plant himself on the edge of the bed. You had made the bed up nicely, tucked the duvet and set the pillows out nicely. He told you you didn’t have to, but you did it anyways.

After a few minutes of folding and refolding the same shirt, you stand from the floor and join him on the bed. He’s leaned back onto his elbows when he nudges your foot with his. You nudge him back but don’t turn to look at him. So he sits up and bumps you with his shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says, fussing with the edge of your shorts to distract himself, “Being here, I mean. As a part of our family.”

You smile down at his fiddling fingertips and inch closer, looking at him with this half-sad, half-happy look that has him confused and hopeless and head over heels and confused.

“I had a really, really nice time,” you whisper, leaning your head onto his shoulder and letting your eyes drift closed.

“So…”

You chuckle and smile to yourself, “So…?”

You sit up when the floor rattles a little, a thudding coming from the room below you. Then George shouts.

“Get it over with already!”

You both look at each other and giggle. Fred leans back again and you watch him tilt his head back and let out a sigh. His chest rises and falls beneath that damned blue sweater, and you trace your fingertips over his knuckles. He lifts his head and smiles cheekily at you, like he knows what’s going on inside your head. Like he has any idea. And for once, you think he might be pretty close.

You practically tackle him to the bed, smiling against his mouth when he cradles your face in one hand and rests the other on your waist where your shirt had ridden up from the ruckus.

You pepper soft kisses over his blushing face, leaving faintly glossy lip prints on his cheeks and nose and forehead and a stray one on the column of his neck. He goes slack against the bed, satisfied and content and happy all because of you. But still, he lazily opens his eyes and grins mischievously and says:

“Took you long enough.”

You smack your hand against his chest just hard enough to warn him.

“Oh, you’re trouble, Weasley.”

He cups your hand against his warm chest and his smile ebbs from mischief to something not as easily recognized. Something that makes him shy and pink thanks to the girl who likes the freckles across the bridge of his nose in the summer and his hands even when they’re covered in mud. Love that makes him much less sane for the girl who might just be crazy for loving him back.

And all of it makes him hold your hand and lean up to kiss you one more time.

masterlist

[bunnys-kisses]

Omg I am GREEDY could I please request for max banana bread and a croissant with a side of coffee hard lemonade?! Just imagining max getting jealous with a rival Mercedes driver who is Toto’s daughter or something when he sees her flirting with someone else 😌😌😌 spicy please sir 🙏

the bakery menu

still many sweet treats on the menu and orders are still available! feel free to place an order! also to the anon who requested this, i love your beautiful mind for this! i was somewhat expecting someone to request the reader be either horner or toto's daughter, but combined with the other prompts, i rather enjoy your devilish mind! please enjoy!

in addition, this will probably be the largest bakery request, this sort of got away from me!

banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour) served to you by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, driver!reader, driver!max, rough sex, degrading language, rivals au, hate fucking, teasing, max & reader hate each other and their fathers, possessive behaviour/jealousy, mentions of marriage and kids

you were good, and that pissed max off. it wasn't because you were a woman, that didn't matter. anyone of any gender who was better than him left a chill down his back.

you were good, so therefore he had to be better.

"are you upset that you lost, princess."

the hateful nickname people gave you in formula one, you were the daughter of toto wolff and drove for the team he basically owned. your father was technically your boss and most thought that you were incapable of being good. that everything was handed to you by your father.

your jaw tensed, you were number two in the season. marginally behind max verstappen who was looking at you with a smugness.

"so what will be your reward, oh dear lord verstappen. how can i a humble peasant in the world of formula one be so thankful that you beat me." your tone was laced with poison.

"motor home at the end of the lot. the one right beside the one your father's team owns." he was almost cocky and it made you want to go at his throat.

but rules were rules and as much as you wanted to whip your helmet at him. this sick little cat and mouse would just have to continue, except this time max was the cat.

you were pressed up against the door of the motor-home hours later after interviews, max had you by the shoulders as he pulled you into a searing kiss. he had taken home the trophy and you were a seething little rabbit.

being rivals sometimes meant ending up in compromising positions. and you and max made quite a pair. you heard the conversations online about the idea of you two being a couple.

a few photos from your early days of racing had made the rounds off of a private facebook page that a former friend had and onto the likes of instagram and tiktok.

you thought that the photos were before the "arrangement" you had but you could see in the shit quality of the photo the prominent hicket on max's hip in one of the photos where he had his arms raised above his head and the t-shirt he wore had rolled up.

the most incriminating was one that was a tad blurrier than the others. it was you and max at a club somewhere in either mexico or brazil and max had his arm slung around you, and your nose was in the crook of his shoulder and you looked like you were half asleep. max looked drunk as hell. but it wasn't the position you were in, but rather the trail of deep red lipstick across his cheek and down his neck. you were both out of it, very drunk but it was obvious that you were kissing all over the other driver's neck. you tried to explain online that it was just a wicked bruise on his face! but when was the last time a bruise looked like lips?

if those were bad enough, if someone found the both of you in the position you were in now, the media would latch onto it for the next decade. until you two eventually got married and had the next heir to the verstappen racing legacy.

he pulled at your racing shirt, the logo of mercedes was starting to piss him off. he didn't want to see it stretched around your tits, he'd rather have the flesh in his lands and covering it in dark hickies.

his hat was on the ground soon after and you two kept a close distance as you made your way through the motor home, trailing clothes behind. until you got to the upstairs portion where if left you in just your mismatched socks and him in his tight briefs and red bull polo shirt.

"you look good."

"you act like you've never seen me naked before." you approached him and pressed yourself up against him and linked fingers with him, "we've been doing this since what, 2016?"

he looked down at you, "and yes you only get more beautiful, i keep wondering why you can never find a boyfriend. are they scared?"

you clenched his hand and said, "max verstappen, anytime a man with any kind of clout follows me on instagram, they always seem to unfollow me right after. i have my guesses on why that is happening, but i feel like you'd have a better idea." then flashed him a smile before you pushed him onto the bed.

max looked up and smiled at you. not the one who put on for the cameras, but rather a true genuine smile. he responded as he took his shirt off, "princess, i honestly don't know. could be your overbearing father for all you know. he would only want the best for you after all."

you straddled his clothed cock and placed your hands across his chest, "well, then i guess it wouldn't bother you if i said that two weekends ago i had a little post-race rendezvous with leclerc."

max's attention piqued. the green-eyed monster that lived in the driver reared its ugly head. he said, "you went somewhere with charles?"

you nodded and cupped his face. you smiled and replied, "oh yeah. nice big boat, lots of wine. he let me put the ferrari hat on when i rode him. but you're not bothered by that, right?"

max grabbed you by the back of the head and pulled you into a hot kiss. you could feel the tension in his body, the jealousy taking root. when you pulled away, he looked sternly into your eyes, he held your head and said, "you're a little liar. how would you father feel if he found out that you were a dirty fucking liar."

a sick little game. this what this all was. losing your career and favour with your father was not worth it, so the games continued until you both got bored. but it's been almost ten years and there was very little boredom.

"really, go ask him next time." you pushed further. you could feel his clothed erection up against your pussy. fucking freak.

max replied, "yeah, yeah. i'll ask him, and then i'll invite him over next time. he doesn't live that far away, princess. and i will show him how to actually fuck you. because i know if you did sleep with him, you were faking your orgasms."

you nodded a little and said, "yeah, verstappen. why don't we bring up the time you called me because you thought you got some girl in italy pregnant." you pressed your forehead against his. the sharp words were replaced with hot kisses.

max's briefs were soon off, followed by your socks. you two hated each other, it was a sickening affair. fueled by lust, hate and wanting some kind of release. you were your fathers' pet projects, a mutually assured destruction was the only way out of it. and it took the form and max's hands gripping your hips as he wrestled you onto your elbows and knees.

"i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name." he said, "maybe if you're lucky, it'll be your name in a few years." he rubbed his cock up against your slick pussy.

you wanted to reach behind you and hit him, but instead your muttered out, "yeah well your son will have the wolff last name then."

he yanked your hair and said, "not if i have anything to do about it. i'd rather our sons have strong a last name and good dutch first names." his voice was honey in your ear, you hated how that strong of words soaked your to your core. he chuckled in your ear as he slid in his cock into you. with both hands on your hips, "we can invite your father to our wedding, i think it would be a little rude for me not to. watch him hand over his only daughter."

"i'm going to kill you verstappen." you snapped and he pushed your face further into the bed. the light streamed through the large windows, asshole didn't even close the curtains. who knew what paparazzi was lingering around still.

"don't be mad, princess, it's not a bad thing that the only way you'll ever be close to the championship is to have my last name."

"i'm going to win this entire thing and i'm going to ruin you, max."

"not if i ruin you first." he rocked you against his cock. he hand you by the hips and drilled his cock into you.

you hated that you loved it, you hated how easily it was for him to get you into his bad. you hated that he was your biggest rival and the other fucker on the grid who could make you finish. you've heard the horror stories from former girlfriends.

max on the other hand took a sick pleasure in making your cum over and over and over again, until your voice was raw from the amount of times you said his name like worship.

you wanted him dead, but you also wanted him between your legs.

the sex between you two was hot, it was like touching a hot handle on the stove. you clawed at the soft white covers and let max thrust into you. you knew he was going to finish in you, after you told him you were on the pill, he took full advantage of that.

you thought it was a weird ownership over you. the thought of it made you frown against the covers. max kept you pinned as he fucked you.

the tumble of pleasure in the motor-home coursed through you. you felt hot all over, his breath in your ear and the weight of him on top of you. he kept you pinned between him and the bed.

"you're a sick fuck, verstappen."

"not as much as you, wolff." he said between heavy pants.

you had trained each other for sex to be a quick thing in stranger areas. there was no time for passion and romance. you rubbed your forehead against the covers and panted heavily. you felt close to your orgasm with your heart hammering.

"i'm gonna cum." you panted, you arched your back and looked up at him. he leaned over you for a hot kiss on your lips, his pace became more sporadic, and with that it sent you over the edge.

he broke the kiss and gave it a few more hearty thrusts before he finished inside of you. orgasm gripped him tightly and he let out a hard pant as he came to a stop.

"fuck."

"shit."

"max."

"i know."

he kept one of his large hands on your lower back as you panted heavily against the bed. you reached for him and ended up tucked into his side. he held you, it was almost tender.

"verstappen."

"wolff."

it felt good being next to him, even if he was your rival. while the sex was amazing, you knew that there would be a part two to his reward for beating you.

but for a moment you let yourself come down from the intense high of climax, slightly pissed that max verstappen was the one who was able to make you feel good.

fuckin' asshole.

-

"this is stupid, max." you said as you tried to adjust the shirt on your body. it was a little too big, but it would stroke max's ego.

max was seated at the edge of the bed, the shirt you were wearing was once on him. he said to you with a smile, "i think that you look rather good. i think you'd be better on red bull's team."

you looked over your shoulder, "or i could make you come to mercedes? we'd know how to take care of you." you giggled before you went over to him.

the shirt on you was one of many red bull polos that max owned, it was what he wanted on top of having sex with you. you got in his lap and spread your hands across his bare chest.

"i guess i can live with wearing these terrible colours, once." you tapped him on the nose and added, "but don't get used to it, verstappen. i'll make sure to get you a pretty thong with the mercedes logo on it when i win."

he took you by the back of the neck and pulled you into a searing kiss and said, "right, right. maybe next time i win, you can go to the paddock with my cock on your breath and the red bull logo across those pretty tits of yours." he held you closer and licked his lips, "now, schat. i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

you cupped his face and said, "you have twenty minutes verstappen, either you get another orgasm out of me or i'm leaving."

he laughed and cupped your breasts through your shirt. he said ina voice so painfully sweet, "of course, ms. wolff, would hate to get the best driver in all of mercedes waiting. i know you're all an impatient bunch." then was pulled into a hot kiss before you two ended up back fully on the bed. <3

[scribendis]

𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐒𝐞𝐚

Daemon Targaryen x female reader (third person perspective) ❖ husband & wife

Warnings: smut, profanity, these two are SO horny, dirty talk, p in v sex, size kink ish, breeding kink ish, just a little bit of throat grabbing Rating: 18+ MDNI Word count: ~5,100

Summary: Mere months after their wedding, Daemon left his young bride to join the War in the Stepstones. His victory and subsequent return to King's Landing three years later meant that his wife would never spend another night alone in their bed.

A/N: I hope all my Daemon girls out there enjoy! This one's dedicated to you! Also, this is barely proofread and not beta'd. Lordy help me. Dividers by @saradika | AO3 link | Wattpad link

Mini HV glossary for ~future reference: ābrazȳrītsos - little wife ñuha dōna - my sweet issa - yes

Prince Daemon Targaryen had not been her father’s first choice of husband for her. It had, in fact, been the lord’s intention to marry her - his youngest child and only daughter - to King Viserys following the death of his queen. The prospect of such an arrangement brought her immense pride, for her house would benefit greatly from the wealth and status that would follow. But, by the time their wheelhouse finally passed through the gates of King’s Landing, the marriage between the king and Lady Alicent Hightower had already been set in stone. 

The king had thus suggested that she wed his younger brother instead, a prospect that her lord father balked at at first. Prince Daemon’s reputation certainly preceded him. No man called the “Rogue” anything had any right to take his precious daughter to wife. But when the Rogue Prince placed a wreath of flowers on her head and proclaimed her the Queen of Love and Beauty upon winning the tourney held in celebration of the king’s wedding, her betrothal to him was all but assured. 

She allowed herself to be wooed by him and his devilish smile, feeling herself falling harder and harder for him each time she caught his gaze from across rooms and banquet tables. There could be one hundred people between them and their eyes would always seem to find one another. His, more often than not, studied far more than her pretty face, trailing downward to her ample breasts or the curve of her waist. 

She had been told that Daemon was no great lover of dancing, but he offered his hand to her during every occasion that had musicians in attendance. And that hand found itself, more often than not, wandering dangerously past her hips as they moved about the dance floor. She was blissfully unaware of the fact that the prince would fuck his fist each night afterward at the thought of the places his hands had touched and what they might look like once he tore her clothes from her body. 

It was no wonder, then, that Daemon made certain that she fulfilled her wifely duties as soon as they were wed. He was barely able to make it through their wedding feast without whisking her away to finally claim her. But that night, he ensured that the entire Red Keep knew exactly whose wife she was.

In those first days of their marriage, she felt that she hardly left their marriage bed. When her presence was required at court, she walked with such an ache in her thighs and between her legs that she wished she could lounge about in bed all day. Each morning, without fail, their shared chambers still held the warm, musky scent of their coupling from the night before. It lingered on the sheets and on her skin throughout the day, only encouraging her husband’s desires further once he returned to her side. 

But their time together, it turned out, would be short lived. She and Daemon had hardly been married for three moons before Lord Corlys Velaryon’s invitation to join his house in the War for the Stepstones brought him hundreds of leagues away from her. Daemon could not refuse, for the potential glory of battle - his greatest chance to prove his worth to the realm - was a far more alluring prize than even his beautiful new wife. The kiss goodbye he gave her before climbing on the back of his dragon tasted bitter on her tongue.

She did not see her lord husband for three years. Life at court became a lonely thing. She was without children to care for or a husband to tend to. What she had was a husband whose actions in the Stepstones seemed to ripple all the way back to the Red Keep. To her. Slowly but surely, she watched her image deteriorate from that of a prince’s wife to that of a social pariah. How ashamed she must have been of her husband, the other ladies would whisper when they thought she was not listening - and, sometimes, when they knew that she was. 

Their shunning of her only worsened as news continued to trickle in about the rising victory of the Triarchy. She would sometimes linger outside of the Small Council chambers and trail after Ser Tyland Lannister in search of any information he had regarding her husband. Toward the end of the war, none of his news was good. She had come to accept that she would awake any day now a widow at the tender age of one and twenty. 

Until the morning that her maidservant burst through her door and all but shook her awake, uttering what, to her, was a garbled mess of words in her half-asleep state. But she did process enough to know one thing: Daemon had been spotted returning to King’s Landing. 

She rarely wore the colors of her husband’s house, opting instead for her own house colors. But today, as she followed the crowd into the throne room, she wore a striking dress of blood red the same hue as her husband’s dragon, Caraxes, and a necklace of rubies to match. Today, she was once again a Targaryen bride. 

She caught the eyes of some of the women who had spent the last three years lambasting her for her husband’s deeds. For his failures. She barely regarded them as she pushed past, her head held high and a smirk painting her lips. But, briefly catching the shocked look on Lord Beesbury’s wife, which somehow made the old woman look even more like a pigeon than she already did, she felt validation run warm through her veins. This would stop their wagging tongues.

In her place near the front of the throne room, she and everyone else watched Daemon approach the king. She had hoped but not suspected that he would find her among the crowd, so when his eyes flickered to her for a fleeting moment, she felt warmth radiate down her entire spine. 

Though he had looked away to address his brother, she did not take her eyes off of him for even a second. His silvery-blonde hair, now cut short, gave her an admirable view of his face and neck. Though obviously kissed by the sun, his skin also bore other changes. Forehead creases and other new wrinkles, likely from frowning or stress or both. A mottled, pink scar painted the right side of his neck and disappeared below his armor. She dreaded to think about just how far it went and how many others lay beneath his clothes. 

Truthfully, their time together before his departure had been so brief that she could not quite put her finger on all of the ways in which the war had changed him physically. From where he stood, the light pouring in from one of the high windows behind him highlighted a small scar just beside his right eyebrow. Did he have that before? She could not remember just now.

There would be plenty of time for her to relearn her husband’s body anew, just as he would hers. She did not realize how lonely a place the marriage bed could be with her husband so far away for so long. All she could hope was that he would still find her pleasing after their years apart.

Their reunion, it seemed, would have to wait, for the king was eager to whisk Daemon away from the eyes of the court following his return. Her disappointment meant little when measured against the wishes of the king, even though the ache in her heart felt all too real as she watched the brothers ascend the steps out of the throne room. 

She fielded several congratulatory remarks and other words of praise for her husband from those around her - the very same individuals who had spent years speaking naught but ill about him, whether to her face or behind her back. But she had known all along that Daemon would prove them wrong. 

The dispersing crowd soon filtered out of the throne room, with some individuals most assuredly sharing whispered words of gossip with their neighbors and others simply wondering when the celebratory feast would be held. She was one of the last to exit the room, a dizzying mixture of anticipation, relief, and disappointment churning in her stomach. 

So when a hand caught her by the throat and another by her upper arm as she ascended the stone steps into the hallway, she was taken completely by surprise. She hardly had time to let out a frightened gasp before a familiar voice breathed into her ear.  

“Will you not welcome the prince home from war, my lady?”

Her fear washed off of her just as quickly as it had come. Heaving a sigh, she smiled. “Daemon.” 

He turned her on the spot so they were face to face, his hand moving to hold her by the nape of her neck so she could not pull away. But she would not have done so even if he had not held her in such a way. 

“Gods, you scared me,” she continued. If he could only feel the way her heart was racing in her breast at his little stunt.

His bottom lip stuck out in a feigned pout. “And here I thought my dear wife would be excited to see me.” He placed his forefinger beneath her chin to tilt her face upward, his violet eyes studying the planes of her face as though he was seeing her for the first time all over again.

“She is.” 

A satisfied grin tugged at Daemon’s lips at the warmth of her remark, though he did not release her from his embrace. Rather, he pulled her closer and leaned down to claim her lips for the first time since his departure. To kiss him felt so familiar, yet also like a distant dream of a time long past. He allowed his lips to linger, savoring the moment as though they did not have dozens of onlookers watching them. 

“Should you not be with the king?” she murmured against his lips but felt him smirk.

“I have had to look at my brother’s ugly face since before I can remember,” Daemon replied, running his hand down the length of her spine until it came to rest in the small of her back. “I would rather have a moment alone with my pretty wife.”

That he had forgotten her or, at least, his burgeoning feelings for her during his years in the Stepstones had been a great worry of hers. He had been all too enthusiastic to leave her side and partake in the war to begin with. She often thought that, should he return one day, the two of them would be no more than strangers to one another. That whatever spark that had ignited between them in the early days of their marriage would have long since burned out.

But she recognized the look in his eyes as they roamed her face and continued downward, along the exposed line of her collarbone and shoulders before going even further. They ravaged her form as they had on all those evenings both before and after they were wed. He was entranced by the way her crimson gown enhanced her womanly shape. No doubt, he was toying with the thought of tearing it from her body right here and now, and reclaiming what was his for the entire court to see.

The mere prospect of such an act sent heat rushing through her lower stomach that pooled between her legs. She hadn’t worn her smallclothes beneath her gown today, remembering how tedious her husband had always found the extra barrier to be. He would have discovered that, if only he would have taken her by the hand and led her to their quarters. 

“You heard what I told my brother,” Daemon continued, his breath feather soft and warm on her cheek. “About the title they bestowed upon me in the Stepstones.”

“King of the Narrow Sea,” she whispered, feeling her mouth go dry as she watched the violet of his eyes become consumed by black. “But… you gave your crown to His Grace.”

Daemon clicked his tongue as he would in disappointment at a child. “Would my wife not have me be her king?”

Gods, she began to ache with need at such a question. She knew he noticed every flutter of her eyelashes, every rise and fall of her breast, every lick of her lips. He was an animal playing with its food, enjoying the act of teasing her. Testing her to see if she had missed him. 

“She would.” Her reply came out hoarsely, which only made the wicked smile on his lips widen further.

“And that would make you my queen,” he cooed as their noses brushed against one another. “Queen of the Narrow Sea.” His thumb moved slowly along the line of her jaw until it found the soft spot just beneath it where her pulse was hammering against her throat and pressed lightly.

She swallowed hard. “Queen of… of rocks and crabs and sand,” she said in jest, a paltry attempt at distracting herself from the now unbearable ache between her thighs. 

Daemon chuckled shortly. “But my queen nonetheless.” His lips moved to her ear to deal their final blow. “Do not think that I have forgotten the sweet sounds of your moans, ābrazȳrītsos,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble like that of a dragon’s echoing throughout the Dragonpit. “Or the even sweeter taste of your cunt.”

She could not stay the soft whimper that fell from her lips. Her body practically trembled with unfulfilled need - three years of it. What a devil her husband was for inflicting such torment on her, and in clear view of every nobleman and servant who walked past. 

And he was even worse for withdrawing from her completely and regarding her with a saccharine grin, though the dark lustfulness in his eyes belied his sudden pleasantry.

“My brother unfortunately demands my company just now, ñuha dōna, but rest assured…” He looked her up and down hungrily once more before stepping around her in a single languid step. “I shall be treating you like a queen tonight.”

Her eyes scanned the page of the open book that was draped across her lap, but the words may as well have been written in Lhazareen. She had gone over this page a dozen times but retained nothing, plagued by thoughts of her husband as she was. 

The sun had long since set and here she sat, alone, by the fire waiting for him. Of course, the king was not to be denied his brother’s presence and she knew that Daemon was certainly basking in the attention and praise that was being showered on him. But she would still hold him to his promise.

Having given up on her paltry attempt at reading, she rose. Her bare feet carried her restlessly back and forth across the cool flagstone floor of the bedchambers that her husband had not slept in for three long years. With every turn, her eyes flitted to the door as though she could will it open with her mind alone.  

“Seven hells, Daemon,” she sighed. 

She had not sated her own desire after her husband had left her wanting earlier, so the anticipation of their reunion this evening had only continued festering inside her throughout the day. It gnawed at her now, an itch that only he could scratch. 

What could she do to prepare for him, she wondered? There was no use in changing into a nightgown that would only end up on the floor. She had no wish to drink herself into a haze that would rob her of the pleasures of their lovemaking. In the end, she decided to perch herself before her vanity and remove the jewels adorning her neck, ears, and fingers. They would only get in the way.

It was when she dipped her head to unclasp her necklace that she heard the heavy wooden door push open. Her eyes immediately snapped to the mirror in front of her, only to see her husband already leaning against the far wall, admiring her. The mere sight of his lips curled into a half smirk was enough to send a rush of heat through her lower belly.

“Do you require assistance with that, ābrazȳrītsos?”

Daemon did not wait for an answer before he pushed himself away from the wall and sauntered over to her. Sneakily placing something on the cushion beside her, he took his place behind her and lifted his hands to remove her necklace. 

“Red was always so becoming on you,” he whispered against the shell of her ear, admiring the color of the rubies against her skin before carelessly tossing the necklace onto the vanity. “You were destined to be a Targaryen bride.”

Her eyes fell closed as she felt his lips move downward to press to her neck. “Yes, I think I was.”

“Keep your eyes closed.” His words were a soft hum against her skin. “I have something to give you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. With her eyes closed, she could hear the rustle of his tunic as he turned. Smell the sweet aroma of wine on his breath. Feel the warmth of his arms enveloping her. Then, there was the cool touch of metal on her forehead and the sudden weight of something in her hair. His fingers gathered the long strands of hair that she had already unbraided and brushed, pulling them to one side of her neck. Once again, his lips found her ear.

“Open.”

She found her image in the mirror again and beheld his gift to her. A circlet cast in what she assumed was Valyrian steel with glittering rubies mounted along the front of the band. It fit her head perfectly and complemented the color of her hair in a way that no other accessory ever had before. When she reached a hand up to touch it, Daemon caught her fingers and brought them to his lips.

“Oh, it’s beautiful…” she breathed. The smile that lit up her features elicited one of his own. “This is what kept you, isn’t it?”

A look of pride flashed in his eyes. “My queen deserved a crown.”

She turned around in her chair to face him, her smile gone and her brow furrowed. The gesture was a lovely one, but it would be an insult to Queen Alicent for her to ever wear this publicly. And she had already spent the last few years as an outcast at court; she would never take risk worsening the others’ view of her. “Daemon, I-I couldn’t possibly wear this. Not at court…”

“Then wear it for me,” he crooned, slowly smoothing his hands along the warm skin of her exposed shoulders. “And nothing else.”

She couldn’t bear it any longer or deny her burning need for him. He could ask anything of her and she would submit. He had her in the palm of his hand and he knew it. 

“How… how do you say ‘queen’ in High Valyrian?” Her voice was but a breath, trembling and full of lasciviousness.

Daemon smiled crookedly. “Dāria.” His thumb brushed across the spot on her neck where he could feel her hammering pulse, just as it had earlier. “Ñuha dāria.”

She knew enough of his mother tongue to know what that meant. 

My queen.

“And ‘king?’” Her throat felt painfully dry, now.

He leaned forward, his gaze reflecting a mixture of playfulness and possessiveness. “Dārys.”

She watched as what little was left of violet in his eyes was overtaken by the black of his pupils. His hand at the side of her neck squeezed slightly. His nostrils flared. And, all the while, he wore the same half-smirk on those lips of his that she wanted to kiss every last inch of her. 

“Say it,” he growled.

“Ñuha dārys.”

Their lips crashed together in a devouring kiss far more passionate than the one they had shared in the hall that afternoon. Daemon easily lifted her into his arms and bore her toward their bed, just as he had on the night that they were married. He did not break their kiss for even a second, not to breathe or to utter soft words of yearning and love. They had so much lost time to make up for and tonight would only be a start.

With barely any care for the intricately sewn gold buttons that trailed down the back of the dress, his hands began to rip the garment open. He tore at the red fabric with the ferocity of a beast while his tongue danced with hers. They were caught in a swirling storm of desire and longing, heat and passion - and they were perfectly content to let it sweep them away together. 

Buttons scattered across the flagstone floor to be lost forever underneath the heavy furnishings, and soon her dress joined them as it fell in a heap beside their bed. Daemon’s roguish smirk returned when his hands cupped her bare arse and pressed her against him. 

“It’s hardly befitting of my queen to strut about the palace without smallclothes like a common whore.” He bit down gently on her bottom lip and relished in the soft mewl that rose in her throat. “Any man could…” 

As his voice trailed off, she felt his fingertips ghost over her hip before moving to her center and sliding into her wet heat. His fingers curled inside her immediately, expertly finding her most pleasurable spot as though it had not been years since he had last fucked her. A stuttering, wanton moan left her, only encouraging him to continue.

“...take advantage.” 

Daemon coaxed her back onto their bed, never pulling his hand away from where, with rapacious speed, he was already bringing her to the brink of the most carnal pleasure. But as she pushed herself up onto her elbows in search of his lips, he pulled back.

“Uh uh,” he hummed. “Look at me, ābrazȳrītsos.” He no longer wished to kiss her, choosing instead to watch her with the same darkened eyes as he had earlier. He saw it all. The way her half-lidded eyes struggled to stay on his, the way her brow twitched and furrowed, the way her neck strained with effort. 

And she was ablaze beneath him, the dragon’s touch inside her reigniting a fire that she had not felt in so long. The warmth of it began to spread through her as his fingers swiftly brought her to her release, which spread through every limb until it consumed her like a wildfire in the countryside. 

There was a grin of satisfaction on Daemon’s face when she opened her eyes again. To him, no sight could have been better than that of her beneath him, breathless, with flushed skin as she lay in the haze of her release. And to her, the image of him licking her wetness from his fingers with such lecherous desire in his eyes could have finished her once more. 

He sat back on his haunches to remove his doublet and tunic, which joined her gown on the floor as though they may as well have been dirty rags. She barely had time to study his bare torso, scarred and more muscular than it had been when she had seen it last, before he was upon her again. When he leaned over her to kiss her, her own hands took over and began to fumble at the closure of his breeches. 

“My poor little wife,” he rasped, “left without a husband to fill her all this time.”

Her lips curled into a sly grin that she knew he could feel against his lips. “Perhaps I have taken a lover in your absence.”

“Name the man and I shall have his head.” Daemon spoke in jest, she knew, but she also surmised that a certain level of sincerity lay beneath his words. Any man that would dare touch the wife of the Rogue Prince would incur his wrath. “Nay, his cock, and he may live out the rest of his days as a eunuch. Perhaps I will have him sent away to become an Unsullied or a priest of Boash.” 

He watched her face intently as her trembling fingers finished their work at his breeches. She had already been brought to pleasure but the sight of his thick, hard cock emerging from his trousers as she pushed them down renewed that same need inside her like an ember that had been rekindled into a blaze. A memory bloomed in her mind of when she had first laid eyes on his manhood on the night of their wedding and how she had doubted that it could even fit inside her. She found herself considering the same thought now.

“O-on the contrary,” she managed, dotting her tongue out to wet her bottom lip. “I have had to pleasure myself.”

“Oh?” Daemon’s eyes narrowed and his lips parted as his hand lifted to her chin to hold her gaze so she had no choice but to see his lust. “I would have you show me sometime, ñuha dāria,” he purred with voracious need. “But for the rest of tonight? You will not cum anywhere but on my cock.” 

He took her firmly by the hips, his calloused fingertips digging into her skin as he pulled her with him so that she straddled him. And then, in a brief moment of tenderness that barely concealed his near-animalistic desire, he twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers. “Know this: your cunt shall never go unfilled again. And perhaps I will put a babe in you, now that I am home.”

“Please.” Her voice, though barely a whisper, was heavy with want.

“Issa, ñuha dāria.” 

Daemon pulled her hips down so that she sank onto his cock, too impatient to give his wife any time to adjust after three years apart. A soft whine left her at the sudden fullness, the way he stretched her as though he had claimed her maidenhead for a second time. He did not let even a second go to waste before he began to guide her movements atop him. She was at the mercy of his hands, which demanded her pleasure and the closeness of her body without remorse. 

What he need not demand was the sweet cries of ecstasy that passed her lips, which filled their bedchambers and, likely, spilled into the hall outside of their door. They felt almost sinful to listen to and, yet, were the most beautiful sounds that he had ever heard.  

“Gods… Daemon…” she moaned, her body arching into him. She had spent so many nights whispering his name into the darkness of their bedchambers as she brought herself to release at the thought of him. But to have him beneath her, inside her, around her once again was pure bliss.

At the sound of his name on her lips, Daemon pressed his face between her breasts and groaned hoarsely. “That’s it, ābrazȳrītsos,” he panted against her flushed skin, his fingers moving further to grasp her by the arse and pull her closer. 

It would not be the gods that would make her cum tonight; it would be him.

She could feel it, the pleasure beginning to tighten inside her. She was at his mercy, lost in the feeling of him bucking his hips up into her and the sensation of his lips at her breasts. It felt impossible that one should experience such rapturous delight as this. In every touch and every choked growl that left him, she could sense that he felt exactly the same. 

“Daemon, please–” Her words left her as a high-pitched squeak, signaling to him just how close she was to falling over the edge. Her body began to tense, her thighs trembling on either side of his hips. Her hands flew to his upper arms, grasping and almost pushing, as if to try and escape the wave of pleasure that was fast approaching. 

But he would not let her go until it consumed them both.  

With his hands still at her hips, Daemon pushed her backward until she was buried in the soft blanket that had been so perfectly laid atop their bed mere moments ago. His body sunk into hers, taking over from her previous ministrations atop him as her hands anchored themselves to his shoulders. He rutted into her like an animal, starved as he had been of her body for the last three years. 

She felt herself shudder when his lips planted kisses along her jawline and moved up until they found her mouth. He swallowed every desperate moan that left her, the taste of them growing sweeter and sweeter the closer she came to her peak. 

Her walls began to clench around him, her breath hitching with his every thrust. Any words she may have uttered only coiled at her throat, her thoughts meaningless as the building pleasure finally unfurled inside her. He held her steadfastly as she came around him, his touch her only lifeline as the heat and delirium ravished her completely. 

“Cum with me,” she gasped against his lips. He would have kept going, brought her to another peak before finishing, but her soft plea was enough to end him, too.

“Fuck…” he groaned, thrusting into her one final time as he spilled himself inside her. 

And when their shared pleasure had passed, her vice-like grip on his shoulders released. The light touches of her fingertips traveled across his back, feeling each new scar that he had acquired in the Stepstones. But he relished in her gentle touch after so many years of war, and allowed himself to collapse against her. 

The weight of his body was soothing, his warmth a balm for her lonely heart. Their breaths slowed and, soon, the only sounds in the room came from the fireplace opposite their bed. It crackled and burned, its radiant heat intermingling with the lingering warmth of their coupling. 

Daemon eventually lifted his head again and reached a hand up to straighten the circlet that had half fallen off of her head in their final throes of passion. He paused to admire the sight of her, still in a daze and wearing a sleepy smile on her lips. He kissed her once more and, when he withdrew, she saw that his eyes had regained some of their earlier hunger.

“Do not think that I am finished with you, ñuha dāria.” 

[thedancingcostumeyoungadult]

It's all timing - S.R.

Spencer Reid x fem!reader smut, no use of y/n

Spencer's return from a case just so happens to coincide with the part of your cycle that has you feeling a certain type of way, which Spencer is only too happy to help with.

Warnings: fluffy smut, oral (fem! receiving), unprotected piv sex, creampie, a smidge of breeding, d/s a little if you squint

~

It's hard to say that Spencer traveling for work was ever convenient, but every once in a while the timing lines up nicely. Like tonight, he's on his way back from a case and you are, to put it crudely, horny as shit. It's not normal horny, either, this is ovulation horny, the kind that leaves you aching all day, overwhelming your already frayed system.

So when you get the text that he's on his way from the airport, you waste no time stripping naked and arranging yourself in the big armchair that faces the door. And then you wait, the clocks ticking taunting you, each second reminding you of his absence.

Finally, the clinking of keys at the door alerts you to your boyfriend's return, the thought of who only rekindling the low burning in your belly. You swallow as the door swings open, adjusting your position slightly to best present yourself to the entryway.

"Baby! I'm h-" Spencer's voice seems to stick in his throat when he sees you, "-ome." He finishes the word slowly, setting his go bag down and closing the door but never moving his gaze from your form. Even in the shadows you watch his eyes rake down your body slowly.

"Welcome home." Your sultry voice draws his eyes back to yours in an instant, the intense gaze softening with a smile shared between you.

"That is quite a welcome." Crossing the room, he kneels slowly in front of you, one of his big, warm hands sliding up the back of your calf as he leans in to catch your lips with his. It's one of those kisses that melts your core, warming your bones and drawing a happy sigh from your chest.

"What did I do to deserve a welcome like this?" He speaks softly as he pulls away, sitting back on his heels as his other hand smooths up the side of your thigh, his touch firm but reverent. You can't help the smile that rises on your face looking down at your love, those soft eyes of his glowing back at you, messy curls falling in his eyes that you gently sweep away. His eyes flutter when you cup his cheek in your palm.

"Being you, mostly." You run the pad of your thumb across his bottom lip, not missing how his breath hitches. "But impeccable timing helps." His head cocks questioningly at you, a line forming where his brows knit together. "You know how I get this time of month." You finish with a devilish little smirk as he finally understands. An eager grin splits his face, his eyes absolutely lighting up.

"Oh!" His hands move immediately, uncrossing your legs and pushing them apart, his grip now anchored in your soft thighs as he surges forward to kiss you excitedly. His excitement and the slight manhandling only add to the quickly forming puddle between your thighs, causing you to whine into his kiss.

As if he read your mind, Spencer broke away from your lips, kissing and biting his way quickly down your body. Excitement clearly outweighed romance tonight, made even more eveident when Spencer, with neither ceremony or hesitation, dove into your pussy like it was the fountain of youth. He'd always eaten pussy like god, but this is even a step beyond that, you didn't even care what he was doing that much, your hormone-flooded brain only barely able to process the sheer pleasure burning through your veins.

"Oh fuck!" You can't help the words falling from your lips as your hands fly to his hair, gripping desperately in a way that must have hurt as your body arches and writhes under him. His hands, large and strong and so warm, run once again up your thighs, gripping your hips almost hard enough to bruise. You can hear him devouring you, wet, lewd sounds interspersed with low grunts of effort that border on animalistic.

It's all so so good, but you still need more, that burning ache in your belly only satiable by one thing.

"Spencer," you manage, your voice cracking on his name "More, please please I need more." He hears you, taking one last harsh suckle at your clit that makes your whole body shudder at the sting before sitting up, his mouth leaving you with a wet pop.

"More? What more do you need, baby?" You just whine, bucking your hips weakly as you throw your head back. Spencer tsks,

"Come on, sweet girl," he plants a kiss on your swollen clit, making you twitch, "you gotta tell me what you want."

"I want your cock," it's like a damn breaks, and suddenly you're begging, clawing at his shoulders with tears pricking your eyes, "I want your cock please, Spencer, please! I wanna be so full of you and your cum and your babies oh god-" you don't get any further before his lips crash against yours, his hands hauling you out of the chair and into his arms. In a matter of seconds you're on your back on the bed, Spencer's lips still hot and demanding against yours, the taste of yourself heady on his tongue as it slides against yours. He breaks from you for only a second or two, definitely ripping something in his haste to rid himself of his clothes.

There were no words, you didn't need them as he pushed into your waiting warmth, his forehead falling to rest against yours as you take him to the hilt, choking on a gasp as he hits that spot thats just so deep and it hurts just a little but it's too good for you to care.

You've always been able to find a rhythm together, fitting against each other just right as he rocks into you, singing your praises in soft grunts and low moans, drawing you ever closer to the edge, begging you to cum for him in every bite, every loving touch, every breath.

You give in to him as he loses himself, the warm ache of his cum spilling into you taking you that last step over the peak and you tumble down the other side. You come apart in the safety of his arms, crumbling and shaking under him as he answers your cries with soft kisses and words of praise mumbled against sweaty skin.

You're glass in his hands as he turns you gently, rolling into his back and bringing your body to lay on top of his. He hasn't pulled out, his cock twitching slightly at the way you squeeze him, still riding the last few shocks of your orgasm.

Your body feels so heavy, so relaxed as you cuddle into his chest, deliciously full and sleepy.

Before sleep takes you, you manage something that sounds like "I love you."

And in that last hazy moment before you drift off, you hear him say it back.

"I love you."

~taglist~

@nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @f-me-reid @spencer-reid-wonderland @dungeons-are-too-cold

[wutheringcaterpillar]

A Bump In The Night: Part 2

find part 1 here Summary: With Arthur overhearing the events from last night, knowing he couldn’t go to Tommy about it, he goes to someone else. Meanwhile you return to school where you meet a new student who has close ties with someone in the family.

warnings: jealousy, incest, sister!reader, talks of arranged relationship/marriage, age gap (Reader is 18)

taglist: @calmingmelody96 @sunflower-tia

The following morning the sun rose quaintly on the horizon, peering in through the curtains delicately waking Tommy from his slumber.

There you were, resting, soundly asleep contently in his arms. He hummed and smiled to himself, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek before rolling out of bed.

Pol was standing in the kitchen, arms crossed with one eyebrow raised, not even attempting to hide her disapproval. Arthur excused himself, saying he was grabbing the post, though it was already laying out blatantly clear on the table.

“Morning Pol. What did I do to upset you now?” He pulled down a mug from the cabinet, filling the glass with just the hot kettle of tea that was steaming and whistling atop the stove.

“You know damn well what you’ve done!” She spoke with a quiet grit, careful not to wake you before smacking Tommy with the rolled up paper. 

She scoffed, her hair flipping on either sides of her head from the anger and outrage she was feeling.

“What in the hell were you thinking! She’s young and I will not let you ruin her life!” He huffed, turning to face his prodding aunt with an annoyed gaze.

He glanced out the window, thinking about how Arthur’s room was right next to his, connecting the dots. His body tensed, lips curling into a sarcastic, devilish smile as he approached Polly, slamming his coffee on the table. Speaking in a threatening, low voice, he pointed his finger degradingly at your aunt, his sapphire eyes boiling with rage.

“What I decide to do with my cock is none of your business or Arthur’s. I’ve always loved her and you know that more than anyone I’d never hurt her Pol, but I solemnly swear if you mention this to her and break her heart in any way, we will have words.” Polly was taken aback by Tommy’s tone but held her ground, not allowing him to influence her decision. Taking his jacket from the coat rack, he opened the door, lighting a cigarette and stopping mid-stride.

“Oh, and Pol? If you bring up this little conversation I will hide the money and withold your cut. May I need not remind you I also know where Mr. Gold lives and there are a lot of people aside from myself that want him dead. With that being said, maybe compromise a little, eh?” Polly’s nose was flaring, she knew her nephew inside and out, Tommy would go to that extent to keep his precious little angel all too himself, so she’d have to combat and end this little romance another way.

Waking up from your deep sleep, the events of last night captured your mind, replaying over and over like a broken record you didn’t want to fix. 

Under the sheets forbiddingly with such a crazed lust. His cozy legs intertwined with yours, the incomprehensible, profound desire just before Tommy had taken you as his own. Those baby blue eyes so sincere yet filled with a sense of animalistic hunger. The way his cock stretch your tight hole, his cum filling you to the brim like a water ballon bursting within your heat. He was so caring, so careful, so mesmerizing, your skin was forming goosebumps as you reminisced the previous night.

Yawning and stretching you turned to the side only to realize Tommy wasn’t there but he had left a note.

“Left for a business meeting Pol made you breakfast, please be sure to eat, I’ll be home later in the evening and Ada will take you to your classes. Until tonight my darling.” Next to the note he had two pills set out in case you were in any pain. You took them knowing if they were still sitting there when Tommy came home he’d be upset.

Walking to your room, ensuring the coast was clear, you carried Tommy’s nightshirt into your room, tucking the thin, delicate fabric beneath your pillow before getting dressed for the day.

Pol and Arthur were sat at the kitchen table, both seeming to be in deep thought and conversation, stopping once you entered the room.

They’d never done that before, but you brushed it off. “How’d you sleep dear?” 

Polly looked at you with skepticism, wanting to know if you’d tell her the truth or if your allegiance still stood grounded with Tommy.

“I slept alright, and you?” She hummed to herself, motioning for Arthur to leave the room, maybe she’d get it out of you if it was a private conversation or perhaps turning the conversation into a minor detour.

“I was talking with Arthur. Lizzie has a cousin who is looking for a wife. I want you to attend on a date with him.” All of a sudden it seemed you forgot how to swallow, nearly choking on your food from her statement.

Before you could answer Ada walked through the door, saving you the trouble and disregarding your aunt. She claimed she would bring this up later, perhaps at a better time and not to inform Tommy of this conversation.

Being the older sister she was, Ada prodded along the drive to your school, inquiring about what had Pol’s panties in a twist. You didn’t have much to answer for as she chatted along, chattering along with possible conclusions, that she believed herself to be true. None of them involving you, some of Tommy since he was known to get under her skin at times but surely it would blow over.

It was your first day of senior year, classes were all over the place, and new students roaming the halls with their unfamiliar faces. Due to holding the Shelby last name it was awfully difficult for you to make friends without your family members scaring them off, or the “rumors” of what they’ve done to people. Your mind was preoccupied nevertheless with an impending hurricane of emotions, wanting nothing more than to just be in your brother’s bed once more in a way a sister never should.

Taking your seat, the bell chimed along, and for the first time in your schooling history a person sat beside you, willingly. 

The hand of another man flexing outward as a greeting. “Hi, my names James. You’re Y/N, aren’t you? My sister brings you up all the time, thinking we’d be a good fit. I suppose we have a date together later this week.” You were taken aback, not expecting the soft shade of brown eyes, and plump lips curling into an exemplary smile that would make any girl’s heart skip a beat. Shaking yourself away from your thoughts, you extended your hand. Why did this feel like a business deal moreso than a greeting? 

“Ye-yeah. I’m her.” As the day stumbled on, James had many classes with you, staying seated next to you each and every time. He was kind, polite, charming, but your mind was still flustered from your brother, and you knew what he’d think about this, surely scaring him away as he did the rest. He was quite attractive but the only man you had interest in, that should be off limits was outside waiting for you with the car.

Your eyes beamed in the sunlight like a school girl in love, and Tommy attempted to hold back his smile. He had a reputation to maintain after all, but that smile quickly faded when your papers fell from your bag, and another man began to assist you in cleaning up the mess. “Oh, oh you don’t have to do that James I-“

“No, no it’s quite alright, wouldn’t want you to lose your homework. I’ve heard how your family is.” Well what was that supposed to be mean? How would he know anything about your family? Probably Lizzie since she likes to eavesdrop and act like she’s a Shelby. You had always held a profound jealousy for her whenever Tommy gave her attention even though it was to distract his heart from what he really wanted, but it still hurt you. 

Glancing at your brother, his shoulders were stiff, hands folded in front of him as he examined the scene displayed before him, analyzing who this mysterious boy was. But maybe he needed to know how you felt numerous times. The jealousy, the anger, the need to posess.

A strong breeze blew through the atmosphere, but James had caught your last paper just in time. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.” His eyes scanned yours before in a bold move, he brushed a wild strand of hair behind your ear, his hand running down your cheek as he took in your beauty on the school steps.

“You have a natural, beautiful glow did you know that?” Your lips pressed together in a fine line as you held back from blushing right then and there. But before you could respond, Tommy was right beside you in an instant, pulling James up from the ground by his coat.

“She’s off limits. If I see or hear about you again, I promise- James is it?” He nodded terrified, not being able to look anywhere else but the cold, invading abyss of Tommy’s stare.

“I promise you, the outcome won’t be very graceful, surely you’ve heard of me, eh?” The boy was shaking in his clothes, as you stood near rolling your eyes from Tommy’s jealousy problems. Though a small part of you couldn’t help but feel an immense light of the flame between your thighs. 

Dropping him to the ground, Tommy held his hand out for you, as he always did like the gentleman he was, also because he enjoyed the feeling of your hands cusped together, the warmth, and closeness.

You didn’t dare turn around to check on James, knowing what the consequences would be. Assisting you into the car, Tommy didn’t hesitate to prod.

“New friend of yours? You know how we feel about strangers. They like to put their noses in places they shouldn’t be.” His crystal eyes scanned your body sitting all too innocently in the passenger seat, and how your skirt was much too short, nearly showing your most treasured area.

When you hadn’t responded he glanced over once more, noticing a singular tear running down your cheek shamelessly.

“Darling, are you alright? I didn’t mean to-“

“Auntie Pol wants me to marry him and set up a date for an evening this week!” Ah, so this is the riddled path she chose to go down. Calming his demeanor from the previous sight at the school, Tommy gazed out the windshield, jaw tightening as he placed the diminishing fire lit on his cigarette into the ashtray. 

“Don’t worry love. Let me handle this, If Pol wants to play with fire, she must forget she is playing with the ring leader.”

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 2

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (still not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon what canon

Word Count: 2k

A/N: So... this was posted prematurely a couple hours ago. This is the actual finished longer version. If you don't know what I'm talking about, thank god. Sorry this took so long, lmao

Just letting you guys know that my knowledge of the lore is purely based off of the movies and the Dune wiki rabbit hole I fell into right after watching part two. I also took a few liberties with the canon here.

I'm super open to constructive criticism, or any criticism at all (feel free to absolutely roast me). Like I mentioned, I've never written fanfic before so I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The evening of your first day in Giedi Prime was celebrated with a banquet where you were introduced to the most important people on the planet. You've heard many stories of the ruthlessness and brutality of the Harkonnens, hence surprised by the courtly welcome during the dinner. Although you did your best to politely ignore the Baron who floated at the head of the table being fed by servants.

You were sat beside his nephew who, despite your mother's education, has evaded your insight. You couldn't quite get a read on him.

Feyd-Rautha whispers to you amid the buzzing conversations of the banquet hall, "are you enjoying the food, little hawk?"

You shoot him a questioning look.

"I like your hairpin," he sneers.

You resist from reaching to touch the Atreides symbol affixed in your hair.

"We don't see such ornaments often here." He quietly laughs in his devilish way, only too amused with himself.

Ah, you realize. He means to torment you.

"Seems early for pet names," you say, picking at your plate, "we've only just met."

"Oh, and yet we are to be wed in less than a week's time," his raspy voice rings in your ear, "I should like to be familiar with my future wife, Lady Atreides."

The marriage pact had been signed when you were only a little girl. Inheriting your father's inclinations, you swore you would uphold your duty, undeterred by the gruesome and abhorrent stories about the Harkonnens—because you knew that centuries of conflict could end within a generation with this union. You were a willing bride.

And yet.

You give him a smile that, to those not privy to your conversation, would seem genuine, "You know nothing of me, na-Baron."

"I should like to learn," you doubt his sincerity but care not enough to discern it. He takes a smug bite of a forkful of meat, "perhaps tomorrow, you shall learn something of me."

The following morning Iassa helps you into another black gown, this time with a veil in anticipation of the black sun.

"Is it not dangerous for Feyd-Rautha to wager his life for a show?" you question.

"The na-Baron is a skilled fighter, my lady. He will emerge victorious," Iassa is straight-faced as she drapes the veil over you.

"Yes, I do not doubt it, but given he is the Baron's heir. Does it not seem a touch irresponsible to even risk it at all."

Not that you actually cared for his life, you just expected that the Harkonnens would be concerned with the preservation of their house regardless of their brutality. You recall your grandfather who got himself killed fighting bulls for sport.

"The na-Baron will be fighting war prisoners. They will be drugged beforehand. It is perfectly safe, my lady."

"Oh." You couldn't decide if you were disappointed or not, "I see."

Iassa seemed intent on dropping the subject, so you do.

You stand before a mirror and take a look at yourself. It is impossible not to be reminded of your mother. She was never one for vanity, but you like to think there was a part of her that always enjoyed the elegant dresses she and you 'had' to wear. You allow yourself a somber smile behind your veil.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Iassa curtsies.

"Thank you," you look at her bowed figure, gray robes made more dull by the stark black choker on her neck. You were sure she was at least 2 standard years younger than you are and it had only been a few months since you came of age. You wondered if she liked pretty dresses too.

Before you can ask her, there is a knock at your door.

The house steward, Jaromir, clears his throat when Iassa opens it for you, "The na-Baron requests your presence before he enters the arena."

Heavy doors open for you in one of the chambers beneath the arena. You are greeted by the sight of a half-dressed Feyd-Rautha being helped into his armor by a servant.

"Lady Atreides," he looks you up and down, "I hope you slept well."

You bow your head in acknowledgment.

"Your knives, master," a large man whom you assume to be the bladesmith presents Feyd-Rautha with two daggers.

The young Harkonnen takes one and caresses the blade with his fingers.

"I've come to wish the brave na-Baron well before his fight in the arena," you say in false earnestness.

He smiles at your inflation of his ego.

"Though I must say, I am relieved it is all for show. I would not like to see my groom wounded before we are wed."

"For show?" Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and you see his arrogant facade show the slightest crack.

"Yes, I've heard your opponents will be drugged will they not?" your voice dripping with innocence, "to ensure your safety, of course."

His grip on the dagger tightens, "and where did you hear this exactly?"

You sense the awkwardness and tension in the servants. The one who had helped don Feyd-Rautha's armor has quietly retreated to the far side of the chamber. There is a subtle tremble in the hands of one holding a plate of towels. You finally notice the three women piled upon a raised platform glaring at you.

"Just voices around the fortress," you shrug.

A deep breath recovers Feyd-Rautha's smug expression. "Call for the warden," he orders one of the guards by the door, "tell him to prepare new prisoners. Sober ones."

"My lord, you need not endanger yourself," you feign worry.

"Nonsense." The na-Baron walks closer to tower over you, "My lady bride deserves to see my true prowess."

He sees through your challenge, but you don't care. Seeing his self-satisfied smirk wiped from his face for even just a second was worth it.

"Besides," he turns away from you to inspect the second knife, "my darlings enjoy meat that's fought for its life."

The three women sneer at this and you see their sharp teeth as they hiss amongst themselves.

You've heard of Feyd-Rautha's concubines long before you arrived on Giedi Prime. Tales of their taste for human flesh were one of the things that tested your resolve in fulfilling the marriage pact. You didn't mind that the na-Baron would keep other women. It would result in less of his attentions on yourself, you figured. It was their perverse appetite that nauseated you.

A look of revulsion hides behind your veil which you sense they would be all too happy to rip to shreds.

"I will see you in the stands, little hawk," Feyd-Rautha whispers to you as he waves for a guard to escort you out.

You do your best to drown out the noise of what seemed to be a countless audience that came to see the na-Baron fight. You could understand now why they uphold such brutal traditions. The people are so excited for it.

On the other side of the arena, you sense Vladimir Harkonnen watching you from the Baron's Box that towered over the whole arena. The blazing sun only helps you avoid looking in his direction. You were sat at a viewing box, still for nobility and separated from the masses, but much lower and closer to the sands of the arena. Jaromir had told you that you were to 'give the na-Baron your favor'.

Before long, the master of ceremonies announces Feyd-Rautha's entrance in Giedi Prime Speech. They are celebrating his betrothal to you and the union of Harkonnen and Atreides, you translate in your head. You wonder if the people care for the politics of the Great Houses. They seemed no less excited to cheer at your name despite the centuries-old blood feud.

Massive doors open as the na-Baron walks into the arena. His arms outstretched holding his knives like an extension of his limbs. He riles up the crowd as he walks towards the Baron's Box and kneels to his uncle. He then rises and walks toward you, smirking under the stark light of the black sun.

You may not fear earning the Harkonnens' contempt, but you were the Duke of Caladan's daughter and you knew that the favor of the people was invaluable.

You stand and walk to the edge of the viewing box. The glowing smile you reveal as you lift your veil draws cheers from the crowd that rival what Feyd-Rautha received. You produce a pure white handkerchief from your dress pocket and make a show of kissing it and waving the cloth at the buzzing crowd. You throw it off the edge and it floats toward the na-Baron who had moved both daggers to one hand to catch it. He looks up at you with what you think could be the seeds of respect and tucks the cloth into the tight armband around his right bicep.

He turns back to the audience and raises his knives in a war cry. The crowd explodes in guttural cheers and applause. Feyd-Rautha takes his position in the middle of the arena as his first opponent is released into the white sands.

You've heard of the Harkonnen heir's aptitude in single combat. It's time to see if the stories were true or if it was just another part of their menacing facade.

You were handed a pair of spyglasses to observe with. The two fighters approach each other, the prisoner wielding a knife of his own. Feyd-Rautha holds a taunting stance. The prisoner was sober, you were sure, but even without the spyglasses, you could see he was weak. You surmised the Harkonnen cells weren't very hospitable. He attempts a swipe but the na-Baron parries with ease. Another and the na-Baron dodges. Zooming in, you could see Feyd-Rautha's twisted amusement. He was toying with the poor man—and the people loved it.

The crowds cheered at the clashing of metal, thundering when the na-Baron drew first blood by slashig his opponent's arm. It wasn't long before Feyd-Rautha's dagger had impaled the prisoner's heart. There was no pause before a second prisoner was brought out to meet a similar fate.

Feyd-Rautha stood unwounded, seething with exhilaration. He enjoyed this; the thrill of killing. He basked in the roar of the crowd. You had never ended a life before, but some deep part of you could almost understand how he felt in that moment.

A third prisoner enters the arena. He looked older than the first two, bearded and taller. He reminded you of Gurney Halleck, the Atreides Warmaster. This man certainly wasn't at his prime but you could tell he would not go down as easily as the first two.

The warrior holds his blade out in a firm fighting stance, refusing to make the first move. You notice picadors in black suits have entered the arena, circling the na-Baron and his opponent. Feyd-Rautha lunges at the prisoner and a quick series of parries from both sides occur. You see the finesse in the na-Baron's movement. He recognizes his opponent's skill and he is taking this one seriously. You were not sure what you expected of the Harkonnen's fighting style but Feyd-Rautha was vicious but precise. The crowd gasps when the prisoner disarms one of the na-Baron's knives. The warrior manages to get a grip on Feyd-Rautha's armed hand and aims to pierce the na-Baron's neck with his blade. The na-Baron struggled against his hold and the arid air was thick with anticipation.

You were unsure what outcome you desired as you stared through your spyglass. Perhaps this warrior kills your betrothed. What then? Would you really be able to go back to Caladan's windy cliffs again? Return to the arms of your mother as if it were all a bad dream? You wonder if when Feyd-Rautha becomes baron, and you his baroness, could you convince him to let you see your family.

The warrior's blade was dangerously close to your future husband's throat when one of the picadors lashes at the warrior. The na-Baron growls at the offending picador as the warrior is weakened. Feyd-Rautha pushes him off and allows him a moment to recover, taunting him to try again. Blades clash once more and after a sequence of quick ferocious movements, Feyd-Rautha's blade slashes the warrior's throat. Blood made black by the infrared of the sun splatters onto the na-Baron. He licks the darkness that landed on his lips. Heaving, he takes your bloodied handkerchief off his armband and raises it to you and the roaring crowd.

You did not even realize you were already standing, breathless at the sight.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore

[halfmoonshines]

Just Damon being soft and protective with his gf please! :) love ur work

love this and love you!

only you

damon salvatore x f!reader

summary: Damon only ever had that smile for you.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

You groaned as you trekked behind the group, fully convinced that this could not get any worse. Not only was the southern heat creating a shine of sweat on your skin, but the constant bickering from the rest of your cohort was driving you crazy.

"If you're annoyed Elena, imagine how the vampires feel. We could've just zipped through the woods without you guys." Caroline made an excellent point.

"So why did we even come?" Your question was exasperated and Damon's light laugh came from behind you, one of his hands coming to rest on your lower back.

"The more eyes there are, the more likely we are to find this tomb." Stefan replied.

"I would argue that you guys could've covered five times as much ground by this point if we weren't slowing you down." You paused your walk for a moment, head thrown back to try and gulp in some of the balmy air.

That air promptly left your lungs, however, when Damon swept you into his arms. You couldn't help but shriek a bit, hastily wrapping your arms around his neck. "Damon. I'm sticky and stinky."

He raised an eyebrow at you, lips arranging themselves in a mirthful smile. "My favorite version of you."

Caroline shook her head violently. "Ew, guys."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

The darkness in the room was almost suffocating you but you didn't have the strength to not suffer inside of it. You didn't know how long you had been sitting there, or when it had gotten so bad, but somewhere along the way you had stopped caring.

You had days like this sometimes, where your mental health was virtually nonexistent and you would rather sit alone in the dark with your thoughts rather than flick the light on and reveal the very real things behind those thoughts.

You vaguely heard the door open downstairs, and Damon's voice was like a lance through the fog in your mind. "Babe? Are you upstairs?"

You stayed silent though, brow furrowing while you tried to overcome the block in your brain that was stopping you from speaking. All that came was a frustrated sigh.

That was enough for the vampire, who quickly appeared in your room, seeming unperturbed by the thick blanket of darkness and despair. He came to sit next to you on the edge of the bed, hand finding yours to interlace your fingers.

"Bad brain day?" His tone was gentle, not a hint of judgement tinged into it. You appreciated that.

You gave a nod, slumping into the safety of his arms. He was always so sturdy, a rock against whatever storm you encountered.

He hummed low in his throat and pulled you both back onto the bed, turning on the fairy lights hanging around the room and tucking you under his chin.

That was where you laid for hours before he convinced you to have dinner, more than happy to let you feel whatever you needed.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

"Are we sure that she is not going to lose her mind when she finds us doing this?" Damon sounded incredibly unsure, paintbrush dangling from his fingers.

You discarded your own, placing hands on hips before you replied. "It's washable paint and it's Caroline's 18th birthday!! Decorating her car is a great idea, trust me."

He raised an eyebrow at you and approached, coming chest to chest and threatening to get the paint dripping from his brush onto you. "Painting the most OCD Barbie I know's car as a surprise? Seems risky."

Your smile was devilish in return. "Since when does a little risk scare you, Salvatore?" You had barely finished your sentence before a gasp escaped, a line of paint now going down your cheek.

"Literally never." He lunged away as you grabbed for him, and you ended up painting yourselves much more than you touched the car.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

[shelbgrey]

✨POOKIE✨ can you conjure up a fic of the very lovely very handsome very shrexy lip biting man also known as Killian Jones? Get that steamy boat time in his bedroom on the Rolly Joger. He’s a pirate so…😳🫣give that man some rope cause he knows how to tie a knot alright😏 also get that bed tapping. He got accent…a hot as hell accent, get it all deep and raspy then you can sign me the hell up. Man can hook me in numerous ways, I’d thank him🫢😳😏

Smut fic with Killan Jones

Paring: Killian Jones x reader

Summary: Smut with captian hook

Warrings: SMUT, gn!reader, bondage, Dirty talk?, desk sex, unprotected sex, rough-ish sex?, getting it from behind.

MasterList

“what should we do with them Capitan?” a crew member grunted as the 'trespasser' wiggled and struggled in the grasp of the pirate's grasp. Y/n fought, kicking and clawing at the dirty man, and no matter how much it hurt the man he didn't let go.

“take our prisoner to my chambers, then I'll decide what I should do with them” Killian commanded.

The pirate nodded and dragged y/n down to the lower part of the jolly Roger, he tossed y/n into Killian's private part of the ship and grabed some rope. Before they could get to far the pirate forced y/n's arms behind their back and tied their wrist together. Y/n snatched their arms out of his grasp and tired to make a run for it. The pirate just snarled and pushed them back it on the room, locking it so they couldn't escape. Moments later the sounds of boots aproching the room filled their ears. Y/n perked up and tired to think of an escape plane quickly, before the plan could be formed the door flew open revealing a tall handsom pirate with blue eyes and black hair. Y/n looked down at this left hand, It was a hook. They now knew who's ship they were on.

He had a wicked grin as he walked towards y/n. His muscular form, encased in leather armor. He had a look of power in his eyes. “I usually don’t allow trespassers to live, but you’re quite beautiful”

Y/n's had nothing but fire in their eyes, staring at the pirate. They showed no fear. “Whatever you're gonna do, might as well do it… On Second thought why don't you just kill me and get it over with”

Killian leans in, whispering menacingly against their neck sending shivers down their spine. “I can think of a few ways you can convince me to let you live”

Y/n stepped back, standing their ground. The pirate's gaze was intimidating, but they didn't let it show how much it affected them. Y/n stepped back till their body hit a table with a large map on it. Y/n's hands had been tied behind their back from when the crew abducted them, y/n had barely kept their balance when she was bound then thrown in the small room.

Killian chuckled darkly when he saw the daring look in y/n's eyes. Y/n stood their ground watching his every move. Killian moved closer, leaving very little room between them. He had a devilish grin as he stared down at his prisoner. He reached out and ran the side of his hook down y/n’s cheek, tracing the line of their jaw. The metal was cold and intimidating “you've got fire…”

Y/n's heart pounded when the hook that replaced his hand ran cold down their cheek. Y/n had heard too many stories about that hook. They leaned back further against the table, keeping their eyes stony, staring into his eyes. “if your looking for gold I don't have it, I have nothing to offer you”

Killian let out a dark chuckle at y/n's comment, he stepped closer still so that his body was pressed against theirs. His free hand slid around their waist, his rings felt cold against their skin. He pulled y/n's body flush against him. I think we can come to an arrangement…”

“And what is that?” y/n asked, not amused.

Y/n shivered as his hook trailed up their thigh, the metal was cold against the hot skin of their inner thigh. “What do you want, Capitan?”

“I think you know what I want…” Killian chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against their neck, nipping at y/n’s skin, leaving marks. Their cheeks became crimson and their heart raced when his lips and the scruff of his beard brushed against the sensitive skin.

Y/n bit their lip, trying not to show the effect the pirate had on them, Killian grinned at the resistance they had. his eyes were darkening with desire when he stared at them. He ran his free hand through y/n's hair, pulling their head back slightly to expose their neck further. “It seems like you're already starting to fall under my spell…”

“You wish…” Y/n argued back, lying to both him and themself. Their heart was pounding and if their hands weren't still tied, y/n knew deep down they'd be grabbing for any part of him or that leather coat they could reach.

Killian chuckled darkly, leaning in to place a soft kiss on y/n’s neck. He pressed the curved end of his hook against the middle of their collarbone and slowly trailed it down their chest then slipped between their legs. Y/n's breath hitched as he rubbed slow circles against their clothed sex through the thin fabric of their pants. “if you want me to stop I will, you have my word… If not there's no turning back”

y/n shuttered and quickly nodded, their mind working over time and was too cought up in the moment to form a proper awnser. Killian's grin widened as he saw the submission in y/n’s eyes. He leaned in, his lips claiming their's in a fierce kiss that left them breathless. Y/n lost balance momentarily, but the desk that was behind them didn't let the fall happen.

Killian pulled away from their lips, whispering as he stared into their eyes. his hand slipping under their shirt to rub against their bare skin, the cold rings that were wrapped around his fingers made y/n shiver. “turn around, bend over the desk.” He nipped at their bottom lip, demanding there obedience.

y/n didn't understand why they responded so quickly. They leaned forward and pressed a quick soft kiss against his lips before submitting to his command and bending over his desk, her ass and tied wrists now pointing towrds him.

Killian smirked as he watched y/n bend over his desk, their ass on display for him. He walked around to stand behind them, his hard cock pressing against their as through his pants. He Hooked his hook on the part of the rope between y/n's wrists, securing them between the desk and his body. y/n got inpacent and pressed their ass against his hardened erection.

Killian growled, his hands moving to grip y/n's hips roughly. He lifted them up slightly, pushing their legs apart with his own. His other hand came down, slapping against her ass hard enough to sting. “don't move”

A shiver ran down y/n's spine as Killian forced their pants down their thighs. Killian groaned, moving his hand to wrap it around his hard erection. He went slow just to tease as he guiding it towards y/n's wet entrance. Y/n's moans encouraged his fast, rough movements as he thrust forward, pushing into y/n's ass with a groan of satisfaction. “Bloddy hell, your perfect”

His thrusts became more forceful, punctuated by harsh grunts of pleasure. He leaned his arm next to y/n, his free hand gripping the desk tightly for balance. “I'm going to make you scream my name, Love”

y/n pressed their forehead against the wooden table as Killian thrusted roughly, stretching them out. “Killian…” they moaned.

Killian groaned at the noises they made as he continued to fuck y/n from behind. fingers gripped their hip tightly as he pushed forward. His breath was ragged against their neck as his hips pistoned back and forth, driving into y/n with force. Y/n's skin felt like it was on fire and they could no longer control the noises that fell from their lips.

"Hell... You like this, don't you?" His voice was raspy and full of lust. He looped his Hook on the rope that binded y/n's wrists and tugged them up. Their back was pressed against his chest and he captured their mouth in a searing hot kiss. He forced y/n against the desk again, but didn't bend them down like last time just continued to pound into them.

“fuck, feels so good” y/n moaned.

“That's it, moan for me…” Killian's words were lost in a string of curses and moans as he felt himself getting closer to the edge. His thrusts became more erratic, each one hitting y/n's sweet spot perfectly.

“killian!” y/n's moans became higher and more desperate, their heart was pounding and they felt themselves about ready to fall over the edge as the knot in their stomach got tighter. “Damn, I'm close”

Killian panted heavily as he thrust into y/n one final time, his entire body shaking with the force of his orgasm. He held onto y/n tightly, feeling his release pulse through him as he growled out his satisfaction. “Fuck... Fucking perfect…”

feeling Killian's release within them, y/n cried out in pleasure as they came as well, their head fell back in pleasure against killian's shoulder as their whole body shaked with the force of it. As they leaned back against him, their chest heaving up and down as they caught their breath “your so perfect, Love”

Killian gently pulled out of y/n, his cock slippery with their combined fluids. He turned them around, pulling them into a warm embrace. His fingers traced gentle patterns on y/n's back as he kissed their forehead. “I've got you” he whispered as he reached behind them and untied their wrists.

“here, let's get you somewhere more comfortable” he murmured, kissing y/n's forehead again before carrying them over to the small leather couch that was in his room. He laid them down gently, his eyes never leaving their face as he brushed some hair out of her face. His fingers tracing gentle patterns on their cheek before pulling the covers up around them, letting them rest. “your no longer a trespasser… if you decide to stay a bored my ship you can guarantee protection from me and the crew”

Y/n smiled softly, their eyes getting heavy. “I'd like that..”

[teapartyprincess4two]

Vampire- J. Guilbert

pairing: HumanPrincess!reader x Vampire!Johnnie

classification: angst, fluff, Vampire AU

warnings: use of y/n, suggestive content but no smut, mentions of death/ mortality, mentions of biting, mentions of blood, mentions of killing (vampires kill, guys), set in the 14th-17th century Renaissance, mentions of an arranged marriage (to Jake LOL), carriage accident, mention of parental death

inspiration: Vampire by Johnnie Guilbert, not really the lyrics more so the idea of vampire Johnnie 🦇

summary: You’re just a princess who fell in love. The only problem is that he’s a vampire and your father has promised your hand in marriage to someone else.

Vampire (prologue)

—

Johnnie’s ice cold skin dances along your arms, he’s trying to get your attention, but you’re too preoccupied with other things. Your mind was thinking about everything that had to be completed around the village, your father’s nagging words ringing through your head, ‘A princess’s job is never done.’ A plethora of important letters are sprawled out on your desk as you work towards replying to all of them, your feather quill swaying back and forth as your curly letters fill the page.

Johnnie didn’t have to worry about mundane things like this, he was timeless, ageless; responsibilities were a thing of the past for him. Ever since meeting you, Johnnie’s only true responsibility is loving you for as long as he can. He knows that each day is like a grain of sand in an hourglass, counting down towards your inevitable, human death. This is why he’s so adamant on enjoying every moment he can with you. Your royal duties, the village, everyday errands; they were all pointless to him. You were the only thing that mattered.

“I’m busy,” you whisper from your desk chair, but you still lean into his touch. You’re wearing a sheer night gown that leaves little to the imagination, perfectly illuminated by the soft candlelight in the room.

Something about Johnnie was intoxicating to you, you were equally as addicted to him as he was to you. There wasn’t a second of the day when he didn’t flood your thoughts; his touch, his kiss, his smile, his charm, his voice, it was all permanently imbedded in your brain.

Of course you were aware of the harsh reality; Johnnie was a vampire and you were a human, no amount of riches could change that. One day you’d grow old and die with nothing but grey hairs and wrinkles for Johnnie to remember you by. He’d be left to roam the Earth for years to come, while you rot 6 feet under the ground. The thought was scary, but you were still young and you had many years left until your inevitable mortal demise.

“Come lay with me,” his lips kiss your exposed neck, sending a shiver up your spine. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to feel his fangs dig into your flesh. Would he be able to stop himself from sucking the life out of you? Would he bite so hard you break?

“Too much to do,” you whisper back, allowing his hands to wander all over your body as he continued kissing along your neck and collar. He hums in response, your smell becoming too intoxicating for him to handle. If he wanted to, he could easily take a delicious bite out of you.

Over the years, though. Johnnie has learned to suppress his animalistic urges. At first, when he was first converted to this devilish lifestyle, he couldn’t stop himself from going on weeklong killing sprees. His thirst was insatiable and no matter how much blood he drank, he was never able to quench it. He’d massacre entire villages just for a quick snack or lure a victim into a dark alleyway for fun.

When he met you he had to learn to control himself because there was no room for mistake and he would never forgive himself if he hurt you. It was hard at first, all he wanted to do was crook your neck to the side and take a big, satisfying bite out of you. He wanted to drink from you until you turned pale and relish in the sweet taste of your blood. But he quickly pushed that thought out of his mind when he saw how beautiful you were. For once in his life he felt the need to protect something instead of destroying it.

That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t sometimes feel the sudden urge to take a sip from you, it’s like you’re a tall drink of water and he’s been walking through the desert for days. He does it subtlety though; he’ll let his fangs graze over the skin of your neck, he’ll teasingly bite your lip, or he’ll lovingly nip at your arms hard enough draw a little blood. Each time he feels himself become more and more obsessed with you, your blood was intoxicating and he knew nothing else would ever compare.

“Just for a little bit, baby,” he whispers against your neck before whipping you around in your chair. The chair rocks violently, Johnnie’s unmatched strength causing you to face him in seconds. He always had to remind himself to be gentle with you. You were fragile in comparison to him, one wrong move and he’d break you. He takes a long hard look at you, the nightgown you’re wearing providing him the perfect view of your entire silhouette. He fights the urge to rip it off of you entirely.

“Okay, just for a little bit,” you whisper back, allowing his lips to capture yours in a cold, hard kiss. Johnnie always managed to hypnotize you. You felt like you were in a trance, always ready to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it. He smirks, extending a cold, pale hand out for you. You take his hand and let him guide you to your large, plush bed.

You lay yourself on the billowy comforter, various expensive pillows surrounding you. Slowly, he joins you, situating himself in between your legs gently. These were the moments that made his immortality feel worth it, the moments he got to spend with you.

“So beautiful, your highness,” he teases, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. You smile back at him, taking his lips in your for a kiss.

—

The next morning you wake to the sound of birds chirping and the sun’s gentle rays dancing over your eyelids. Most of your mornings were peaceful, especially when you spend them with Johnnie. Because he’s a vampire he doesn’t sleep, but he stays with you to make sure nothing or no one hurts you.

A church bell rings loudly in the distance, causing you to jolt up from your bed. Was it really noon already?

After guiding you to bed last night, Johnnie couldn’t keep his hands off of you. This led to a very eventful evening and afterwards you stayed up talking all night. He insisted that you get some sleep, especially because the next morning was extremely important for you. But you, of course, insisted on staying up with him. You didn’t doze off until past midnight, and now you’re waking up late.

It’s an important day for you, well everyday is important for a princess, but you knew you would never hear the end of it from your father. Johnnie is long gone as this point, having left when you fell asleep. Usually he’d stay and be there to greet you in the morning, but he knew what today entailed and he wanted nothing to do with it.

Your father had invited extremely important people to the palace and was working towards marrying you off. In his eyes you were way past wedding age and the longer he kept you around, the more money he was losing. Johnnie overheard the conversation between your dad and one of his confidants one night while watching you sleep, immediately he felt sick to his stomach. The thought of you marrying another man, even looking at another man, sent him into a rage.

Johnnie left you to sleep alone that night, escaping through your window to the nearest village. All he saw was red, both from the anger and from the blood of the victims he took. By the end of it, he didn’t even recognize himself, and when he saw you the next day he felt an immense wave of guilt wash over him. Who was he to be getting this upset over you? You were a human, your life was meant to go on with or without him. If this is how he was reacting to your supposed wedding, how would he react when life took its inevitable toll on you?

You called in your handmaid, Bernadette, as quickly as possible. The two of you rushed to get you ready, throwing on your petty coat before lacing your dress in place. The dress was a beautiful shade of pink and was adorned with pearls along the front collar, it complimented you perfectly.

“Bernadette, what do you think my father has prepared for me today anyways?” you ask as you watch Bernadette through the mirror, she’s braiding your hair and pinning it up against your head in an intricate hairstyle. “Don’t know, ma’am,” she replies with a smile, meeting your gaze in the mirror briefly before returning to your hair. You were completely unaware of your father’s plans, if you knew he was planning to marry you off you would’ve run away immediately, but you don’t know and that’s the worst part.

After you finish getting ready, both you and Bernadette make your way to the dining room. Your father is there eating lunch, accompanied by two other gentleman.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” your father comments, watching as you hurriedly enter the room. The clacking of your heels against the marble floor catches the attention of the other men at the table, both of them standing from their seats immediately to greet you.

You notice the first man, he’s young and extremely muscular, and he looks very regal in his suit. You’d even go as far as to say that he was handsome, his black hair framing his face perfectly. The man on the left of him is much older, still handsome, but definitely the first man’s father.

“Y/n, meet Prince Webber and his father. He’s been waiting for your descent all morning,” your father says in a sardonic tone, motioning for you to properly greet the two men. You elegantly walk over to them, taking Prince Webber’s extended hand before bowing. “Princess,” he greets with a bow, offering you a kind smile. You return the smile before greeting his father in the same manner.

“Take a seat, please,” you insist as you rush over to sit by your father who’s sitting at the foot of the table. You’re directly in front of Prince Webber now, his eyes trained on you as you get comfortable in your seat. You lean forward as you pull your chair in, giving him the perfect view of your pearl adorned chest. He notices how beautiful you are and suddenly he’s fine with an arranged marriage.

Your father waits impatiently for you to stop moving, he’s a busy man who hates how much you love to dilly-dally. He wasn’t always like this, though, he used to have fun and be extremely affectionate towards you. But he turned cold the day your mother died. Her death was sudden and violent, so many other people died in the castle that day at the hands of a ravaging vampire. Sometimes you wondered if Johnnie had done it, but you were too afraid to ask.

Ever since that day your dad has loathed vampires and has made it his mission to kill every single one. This turned your kingdom from a happy place to a dark, evil one. He became unrelenting and merciless, killing even those who he only suspected were vampires. Every single one of the villagers became afraid to leave their homes, they were scared to die at the hands of a vampire or of your father.

This is why Johnnie only ever comes to visit you at night, if your dad ever found him wandering around the palace he’d certainly put a stake through his heart. So, every morning as the sun began to rise, Johnnie escaped through your window and trudged home until night came again.

Finally when you’re comfortable your father speaks, “Y/n, you and Prince Webber will be spending the day together chaperoned by Bernadette. It’s imperative that you two get acquainted.” You’re confused, why was it so imperative that you spend an entire day with Prince Webber?

You send your father a confused look before replying, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound rude, but why is it so imperative?” A servant places your meal in front of you, briefly asking if you needed anything else. “No im fine, thank you,” you reply quickly, offering the servant a small smile before turning expectantly towards your father. Prince Webber looks shocked, how do you not know?

Your father is cutting a piece of ham on his plate, picking it up with his forks as he replies, “You two are getting married.” He takes a bite of the ham, how could he state it so causally, so blatantly?

You’re about to protest, but he interjects, “Do not throw a fit, Y/n. The arrangements have been made, you will be wed within a week.” Your eyes are blown open in shock as you attempt to process the information, why was this the first time you’re hearing about this? How were you going to marry someone you didn’t even know? How were you going to tell Johnnie?

“Close your mouth, Y/n. You’ll catch a fly,” your father comments. You didn’t even know what to say, you just close your mouth and look at the food in front of you. You felt bad for Prince Webber, he was a handsome man who didn’t deserve a reaction like the one you just had. But you’re not in love with him, if you could have it your way you would’ve had Johnnie bite you long ago.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” you whisper, holding back the tears. How had this become your future? You push yourself up from your seat, grabbing the front of your dress as you run towards your room. Your father calls after you angrily, but you don’t turn back, you can’t turn back. You need to get into your room, pack as many of your things as possible and leave.

Bernadette follows closely behind you, worried for you, but also scared of what your father might do if you don’t return to the dining room. “Miss Y/n!” her words fall on deaf ears, you’ve locked yourself in your room. You fall onto the edge of the bed, sobbing profusely. If you didn’t manage to leave by tonight, your father would definitely marry you off tomorrow morning to prevent any more obstacles.

“Miss Y/n?” Bernadette asks timidly from the other side of the door. You sniffle, looking towards the door and debating whether or not you should let her in. You trusted Bernadette with your life, but right now you didn’t know whose side she was on. Was she going to comfort you and help you pack your bags? Or was she going to knock some sense into you and drag you back into the dining room?

She’s never betrayed you before, so you decide to let her in. You crawl towards the door, opening it slowly for her to squeeze through. She quickly makes her way inside before shutting the door, locking it in the process.

“What’s wrong, ma’am?” she coos, joining you on the floor as she brings you into a comforting hug.

“I can’t marry him, Bernadette,” you sob, holding onto her for dear life. She rubs your back and pats your head, not fully understanding why you’re so upset, “Why not? He seems handsome enough.” Her comment causes you to laugh through the sobs, she always managed to make you feel better.

After your mother passed Bernadette took on the motherly role in your life. She was always a present, constant figure in your life even when your mother was alive, but now that she’s gone Bernadette is all you have. She’s watched you grow and has protected you from many tongue lashings from your father. When you’re sick, she’s quick to nurse you to health and when you’re sad she’s there to console you.

“He is handsome,” you agree, wiping away the few stray tears that rolled down your face. “But I’m not in love with him.”

She looks at you confused, as far as she knows you’re not in love with anyone, so what did it matter if you didn’t love Prince Webber. You’d grow to love him in time, she’s sure of it, “you could grow to love him, ma’am.”

You sigh, looking down at your lap and messing with the ruffles of your dress. “No, Bernadette, I couldn’t,” you reply with a sniffle, shaking your head as you try fighting the tears again. She can sense that there’s something you’re not telling her, a secret that you’ve kept hidden well enough for her not to find out. Bernadette takes your hands in hers, pulling your gaze from your lap to her eyes, “What’s bothering you, Miss Y/n?”

“I’m in love, Bernadette.”

Her face lights up with excitement as she brings you in for another embrace, “Oh, Miss Y/n! That is wonderful news!” Your arms remain in your lap, limp and unable to feel any sense of joy.

“With a vampire,” you whisper.

—

When the sun sets Johnnie is quick to visit you, climbing in through your window and leaning against it, watching as you feverishly pack your bags. You’re throwing in random dresses, undergarments, and trinkets from around your room. He knows what you’re doing, he expected you to do this from the moment he heard your father that fateful night.

“Johnnie, I need you to help me,” you say, immediately noticing his presence by the window. He doesn’t move from his spot, he just continues watching as you pile in garment after garment into your suitcase. You stop what you’re doing and meet his gaze, he looks upset and sad. “Help me, please,” you reiterate, but he still doesn’t say anything.

A part of him knows that if he does help you, you’ll run away with him and spend the remainder of your life with him. Although he loved the idea, there was a part of him that feared you’d be unsatisfied at a life with him. There were certain things he couldn’t provide for you; he’d never be able to give you children, warm you up on a cold night, or even grow old with you. If he managed to convince you to go through with this arranged marriage, you’d get all of that plus some. Of course he hates the thought, but what else was there to do?

“Johnnie, please,” you beg, your eyes are pleading for him to take just one step closer to you. A singular step to let you know that he’s still with you, no matter your differences. “What are you doing?” he asks coldly, putting up a protective wall. He’s bound to get hurt no matter the outcome, the least he can do is try and protect his feelings.

“I’m running away with you.”

Johnnie finally takes a step towards you, “I never asked you to do that.”

You’re shocked by his words, was this the same man who was begging you to lay with him just last night? The same man who learned to measure his strength to prevent himself from breaking you? The same man who rejected his animalistic nature so he wouldn’t devour you? You thought he’d be happy at the news, happy that you finally wouldn’t have to hide.

“What are you saying?” you asked, the tears brimming once again. You were tired of crying, you hated crying. Johnnie had never made you cry before. “Marry him,” he replies, picking your bag up and dumping all your clothes back onto the bed. You watch in horror, why was he throwing you to the side so easily? Was there someone else?

“Johnnie, don’t do this. Please,” you beg, searching his eyes for a sign. But they’re as cold as ever, piercing yours in a stone cold stare. His jaw clenches as he breaks from your gaze, if he looked at you for too long he was sure to break. If he was going to do this he needed to make it quick and painless.

“Y/n, it was nice while it lasted, but I could never love you. Did you think that those nights I spent here were because of love? They were for pleasure. I needed satisfaction and you were the first to provide it,” his words are venomous, they sink into your brain and infect it with so many thoughts. All the nights you two spent together flash before your eyes, had they really meant nothing to him?

“I’m a monster, Y/n. My sole purpose on this Earth is to kill, I was never made for love. So, don’t wait for me because I won’t be coming around anymore. Marry him,” the last part comes out as a command, but it’s laced with sadness. You’re too out of it to notice.

You watch in shock as he escapes out the window. As quickly as he came, he went. He was lost in the night and you weren’t sure when you’d see him again.

—

The air surrounding you is chaotic; wedding bells are ringing, servants are whizzing past you as they attempt to ready everything for the reception, and your father won’t stop bossing people around. It’s exactly a week after you found out about your arranged marriage, exactly a week since you’ve last seen Johnnie. The first night was agony, you felt like you were going through withdrawal of him, waking up in cold sweats and reaching for him in your bed only to find that it’s empty. The second night was worse, you stayed up staring at the ceiling, occasionally looking towards the window in hopes that he’d magically appear. By the third night you’d lost all hope, you were delirious from the loss of sleep and began hallucinating Johnnie. You were losing your mind.

Johnnie was struggling even worse, the second he left your room that night he went in search of the closest village he could find. He wasn’t even hungry, just mad. He quickly made his rounds around the village, leaving nothing but wind chimes to make noise. By the end of it he was covered in blood, trudging back to his castle as the sadness finally set in. He didn’t know what he was thinking when he told you to marry that prince, he should’ve helped you pack your bags and carried you to a life where only you two mattered.

“Are you ready, ma’am?” Bernadette asks with a big smile, this is an exciting milestone for you in her eyes. She can sense your sadness, and after your last confession, she finally understands why. But she doesn’t want to make you cry, especially not after taking so long on your hair and makeup, so she puts on a positive demeanor. You’re looking out your window in hopes to see Johnnie one last time, your veil blows with the wind and the sun reflects on your shimmery white gown.

You inhale sharply, turning away from the window, “yes.” You were just going to have to get this over with, come to terms with your new life, and forget about Johnnie forever.

Bernadette guides you downstairs and out to the courtyard where a large carriage is waiting for you. It’s a beautiful white carriage, complete with two spotted horses. If you weren’t so sad you might’ve appreciated it. Prince Webber is waiting next to it, watching as his beautiful bride to be slowly walks towards the carriage.

“You look beautiful,” he comments as soon as you’re close enough to head, opening the door and helping you inside. You offer him a weak smile as you make your way inside. It wasn’t his fault you were marrying him, but you couldn’t help but resent him. He follows you shortly after, sitting on the seat opposite you. Your large, puffy dress takes up most of the space, but he figures it out.

The ride to the church is bumpy, long and awkward. The horse’s neigh with each whip from the conductor, picking up their speed only to lull back into a steady pace. The prince attempts to make small talk, but you’re unrelenting. You hated every second of it, you couldn’t even meet Prince Webber’s eyes. You felt bad for resenting him, but your heartbreak somehow felt like his fault. It felt like the carriage was slowly closing in around you, as the realization dawned on you that were being trapped in a loveless marriage with someone you didn’t even know up until a week ago.

The prince can sense your pain and instead of becoming upset, he sympathizes with you. He didn’t ask for this either, but he’s trying to make the best of a bad situation. He’s glad you’re beautiful, he’s glad you’re in tune with your emotions, and he’s glad that you two will have the rest of forever to fall in love. Maybe you don’t love him now, but one day you’ll learn to love him and that to him was enough.

He’s about to ask you a question as the conductor guides the carriage over an even rockier path than before, causing the wheels to skid a little. You hold onto the walls, bracing yourself for any further impact. “Careful out there!” Prince Webber exclaims, slapping the ceiling to get the conductor’s attention.

The ride steadies again, earning a relieved sigh from the both of you. The air calms down and he prepares to engage in conversation again, but the carriage goes over a large pile of rocks, causing it to lean dramatically. You let out a little scream, once again holding onto the walls to prevent yourself from coming in contract with the walls.

“Are you okay?” he asks once the carriage steadies again. He was going to have to have a long talk with this conductor once the ride was over, possibly even fire him.

“Yes I’m fine-“

The carriage wheels hit another pile of rocks, causing it to skid off the path and roll over. The two of you are now rolling full speed down a mountain screaming in terror as you attempt to anchor yourself. Dirt and debris comes in through the window, hitting you on the face and dirtying your dress.

The carriage tumbles into a valley, slapping against the wall of another mountain with a loud bang. The hit is brutal, it causes your body to collide with the edge of your seat and the wall of the carriage. You’re dazed, looking towards the Prince for help, but he’s out cold.

A stream of blood trickles down his forehead and you’re sure that if you evaluate yourself you’re bleeding too.

—

Johnnie could smell your blood from a mile away, he knew you better than anyone. He tried pushing you out of his head, but he knew you were getting married today so his mind was flooded with thoughts of you. Then, when he smelled your blood, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. But the smell was so potent he could practically taste it.

Immediately he rushed out of his castle, following your scent as he searched for you. It felt like a hunt, like you were his prey and he was the hungry predator ready for his next meal. But he had to remind himself that you weren’t a meal, you were the love of his life.

He sped down the rocky trail that led to the church, following horse and carriage tracks until he couldn’t find them anymore. You were so close he could sense you, but he couldn’t see you. Johnnie looked around frantically in search for you, he was becoming more and more desperate to find you. The thought of you being hurt was enough to send him into a frenzy, but he had to control himself.

His feet guided him towards the edge of the cliff, creeping close enough to look down without falling. That’s when he saw it, a broken and battered carriage sitting right on the edge of the valley. He felt his heart drop, his mind racing and coming up with the worst possible scenarios. Without a second thought he hurried towards the carriage, expertly jumping down from the cliff.

Frantically he pulled pieces of wood, metal, and rocks apart. He was becoming desperate, he knew you were buried deep under the debris but he couldn’t seem to reach you fast enough. “Please, please,” he begged repeatedly, praying to whatever god there was that you were okay. If you weren’t, he would never forgive himself.

Johnnie pulls the last, largest piece of wood off of you. He falls to his knees when he finally sees you, immediately checking for a pulse. You’re covered in dirt and blood, but he doesn’t feel the urge to bite you, he’s too overwhelmed with sadness and guilt.

He picks you up in his arms, your limp body feeling cold for the first time since he’s met you. A tear rolls down his cheek, the first tear he’s shed in his whole immortal life. He feels helpless, he lost you and there’s nothing he can do. An existence without you doesn’t mean anything to him, he’s going to roam the earth without the love of his life by his side and it’s all his fault.

There’s only one thing he can think to do, the one thing he never wanted to do; bite you, infect you with his venom in hopes that you’d wake up. In hopes that you’d get another chance at forever with him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing your lips one last time before turning your head to the side. He’s sorry that he has to cross this boundary with you just to bring you to life, he’s sorry that he left you alone that night to deal with your feelings, he’s sorry that he fell in love with you. Johnnie felt incredibly selfish for what he was about to do, he was about to possibly rob you of a mortal existence for his own personal desires.

Slowly he sinks his fangs into your neck, drawing a little blood before pumping his venom into you. He’s not even sure if it’ll work, but it’s worth a try. He reluctantly draws away from you, wanting to savor your sweet blood a little longer, but if he drinks any more you won’t wake up.

30 minutes pass by and you’re still laying lifeless in Johnnie’s arms. He’s lost all hope at this point, he feels so stupid, so guilty, so selfish. He was the lion that fell in love with the lamb, chasing it towards death then wondering why it stopped running.

“I love you, Y/n. Please, please wake up,” he whispers desperately, his forehead flush against yours before he goes in for another kiss. He doesn’t know what else to do, he’s grasping at straws at this point. .

The kiss, along with the venom pumping through your veins, awakens something in you as you gasp for air. As soon as you open your eyes, you’re met with Johnnie looking back at you. He’s immediately relieved, engulfing you in the tightest embrace ever.

“Johnnie?”

“I thought I lost you,” he whispers, pulling away from the hug and taking your face in his cold hands. “Never scare me like that again.”

“I won’t,” you whisper back, shaking your head feverishly and kissing him again.

“Good, you have forever to keep that promise.” You two would have an eternity to love each other, lifetimes and eons to live alongside each other. Everything else around you could rot, but as long as you had each other, life was perfect.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

I would like to preface that Prince Webber is alive and well at the end, I just didn’t feel like writing in all the details of his story towards the end sorry. Enjoy this quick fic and listen to the song! Love u honey bunchesssss

Kk byeeee

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

[jenscx]

[18] CALL ME BACK — right here

the sound of an engine revving catches your attention. your eyes move from wonyoung’s animated expression to the familiar black car, sakura’s face evident in the window.

she looks apologetic, but it flashes away once she sees who’s next to you. your throat automatically constricts, heat blooming at your cheeks when sakura struts to you, slamming the car door shut. you couldn’t help but find her anger attractive.

“baby,” she drawls out, “who’s this?” you can tell she’s acting. obviously sakura knows who jang wonyoung is.

“jang wonyoung, i’m yn’s close friend,” wonyoung introduces herself, but her smile is far from friendly. sakura grins back, her smirk akin to one of a predator. you twist your head to look at wonyoung again, her eyes flashing a glimpse of arrogance.

sakura’s hand slithers to embrace your waist. you nearly yelp at the sudden action. wonyoung’s eyes follow the movement, an eyebrow raising in question.

“you came pretty late,” wonyoung remarks cheekily, “did something, or someone, keep you from coming?” sakura’s jaw tightens, and so does the grip around your waist. you shriek.

“asshole!” you smack sakura’s shoulder, she knew you were ticklish there! your girlfriend merely chuckles, “sorry darling, but i just fell asleep. i didn’t hear my alarm going off.”

wonyoung hums. you turn to look at your friend, she’s been acting a little strangely. is it because of sakura?

“so, y/n,” wonyoung starts, a devilish smirk on her face, “wanna hang out on saturday? we left some things unsaid.” you furrow your brows, thinking of you had anything on saturday.

“uh, i think i’m fre—”

“baby, did you forget we have a date then?” sakura interrupts. you tilt your head curiously. since when did you arrange a date with sakura?

“huh?”

“aw, what about sunday? or are you spending both days together?” wonyoung pouts.

this time, sakura doesn’t retort.

“i think i’m free but i’ll get back to you?” you reply, but it comes out more like a question. being in the vicinity of both sakura and wonyoung confused you madly. not to mention, sakura was likely to leave bruises the way she gripped your waist.

at this point, sakura becomes restless and hugs you from the back.

“love, are you hungry? do you want to go get food?” she asks. your ears turn red at the nickname. sakura never called you ‘love’ before. it made butterflies swarm your stomach and your throat constrict with nervousness.

“uhh, ye-yeah… let’s go, kkura. see you tomorrow, or something, wonyoung,” you stutter, too focused on the way sakura caressed your waist and the attractive smirk plastered on her face.

wonyoung frowns, but covers it up quickly with a wave of her hand. you fumble in your steps to sakura’s car, her hand never leaving your side once. you think you might have saw her turn around to give wonyoung the finger, but maybe you were hallucinating. once you settle into the car, sakura turns on the radio.

“oh, baby,” she exclaims in glee, “this is the song we heard on our first date!” your ears perk up, it’s keshi.

“you remember that?” you ask.

“of course,” sakura rolls her eyes, turning the music louder. you giggle, stretching your hand out to encapsulate hers. your fingers intertwine as you hum to the melody. sakura spares you a few glances throughout the drive.

“i always thought you were really cute,” she says suddenly, “you came to the games but i never really talked to you, until that party.” you smile sheepishly at the thought of the party where you met sakura.

“that was so embarrassing, i almost puked on you,” you laugh. sakura shrugs, “it was cute, i had to hold your hair up and everything. like a meet-cute.”

you can’t help but feel warmth spreading all over you. sakura was so sweet. and such an amazing girlfriend.

“i’m sure i could have had a better first impression.. i probably looked terrible then.”

“oh baby, you already had all my attention the moment i saw you on those stands,” sakura laughs, “anything you did, i would just think you’re cute.” the song ends right at this moment. sakura continues humming while red flushes on your cheeks, spreading from your ears down to your neck.

why was sakura so smooth with her words? you both loved and hated it.

“stop being so cute, i’ll actually go crazy,” you mutter. sakura quirks an eyebrow up, “crazy for me?”

“yeah, crazy for you.”

“wouldn’t that be a dream for me?” you pout at your girlfriend, “stop making me so flustered, i’ll stop talking to you.”

sakura sighs dramatically, “i would die without your attention.” based on the way she acted previously, you wouldn’t be surprised if her words held some truth to them. the moment dies down and you’re back to comfortable silence. you enjoy car rides with sakura; you don’t have to keep talking to fill up the silence, you can just gaze at the ever changing scenery of the city. at its darkest, it is the prettiest. all the city lights flashing, shining at its brightest. it’s kind of ironic.

at a red light, sakura turns to you, “i’m really sorry for coming late. i didn’t mean to, and i just didn’t hear my alarm going off.”

you shrug, “it’s all good, kkura.”

“still, i’ll make it up to you,” sakura’s eyes glisten with sincerity. you melt at the puppy look and instantly lean in for a quick peck on the cheek.

“you look so cute right now. ugh, i hate how you always look so adorable without trying.” if not for the red light turning green, you would have taken both of her cheeks in your hands and started squishing her.

sakura giggles like a school girl. you almost feel like a teenager having a crush for the first time again.

“you’re always gorgeous without trying too.”

you wave her compliment off, “even when i’m crying with snot all over my face? remember when we watched move to heaven together? i wailed like a baby.”

your girlfriend snorts at the memory. your tear-stricken face along with rosy cheeks, paired with sniffles all throughout the episodes. “i still thought you were cute,” she remarks.

“sakura, i looked like i just crawled out of a sewer on most days,” you sigh. sakura falls silent. the only thing you hear is the running wheels of the car against the concrete streets.

“i beg to differ, but even at your worst,” sakura smiles, the city’s reflection in her eyes, “you’re still the only one in my heart. i’ll will be forever with you, right here.”

masterlist | next

TAGS ! @jiwoneiric @yoontoonwhs @haerinsloverr @wallfl9wer @klvarchives @r4cjh @jisooftme @jeindall777 @chaersly @perfectsunlight @thefckghost @pagedpick7 @pinxeajin @pandafuriosa60 @limbforalimb @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @sewiouslyz @manooffline @geeminz @flolio @watamotee33 @winzzie @gayforalll

[yurinaa-world]

Hey, I just saw the recent angel reader work, can you do a demon one, but with Dr. Ratio, Sampo, Sunday and Gallagher... Thanks. Either platonic or romantic is fine

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Dr. Ratio, Sampo, Sunday & Gallagher x Gender-neutral Reader

𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader that's a demon

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fluff, spelling mistakes

𝒱𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓈 𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜

“Veritas enough with the math stuff and pay attention to me!”

Your arms wrap around Veritas' shoulders, chin his shoulder, trying your best to persuade him into listening to you and enough with working on these papers. Yet he just doesn’t answer you at all.

Ugh. Pressing your chest against his back, leaning in to have cheeks against others, and to top off with the annoyance, you begin to play with his soft, all for persuasion.

“Please Veritas. Mr. Veritas Ratio, I promise I won’t bother you after this.”

You give a little soft kiss on the cheek. “Enough with your childish behaviour. Since I’m feeling quite generous right now I’ll provide you with something if you let go of me this instant.

“Yes sir!” Moving back instantly just going over to sit right on top of the desk after moving his paper to the side. Your shoe rubbed his leg with a bright smile on your face.

“Give me something good!”

“I’ll give something even better.”

𝒮𝒶𝓂𝓅𝑜 𝒦𝑜𝓈𝓀𝒾

“What’s wrong, sampo? Cat caught your tongue?”

Arms wrapped around his neck while you straddled his lap. A bright smile plastered all over your face. His arms wrap around your waist with a lazy grin on his face.

“Sampo Koski doesn’t mind this arrangement in the slightest. Yet I was hoping for something more,”

“Like what?”

“Maybe, perhaps, a kiss?”

You just laugh at his little “deal” before leaning in to kiss his forehead and he immediately gets that smile where it isn’t what he truly wanted.

“Hmm? What will I get from you? Can’t give something for free,”

“Am I not your dearest lover? Even kisses have prices these days?”

He begins to put on that sad tone so you would feel bad and kiss him out of pity. Pressing your forehead against his. “Maybe..for you I could spare something. Since I’m not a nasty scammer like you.” You smile at me with loving eyes, your tail wrapping around his leg, gently rubbing and creasing it. 

Leaning in to give a feather-light kiss right on the side of lips—not satisfying in the slightest, just makes him want so much more. “Another?” 

“No sorry, you'll have to buy the full package first.

𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎

It’s so difficult for you. Every time you try something with Sunday, you can’t help but be a little embarrassed and completely stop in your tracks.

 It feels like the simplest thing yet you can’t help that you’re doing something dirty, especially with Sunday making it worse by making you spell out what you want.

“What kinds of things do you think about?”

What does he take you as? Acting like your head is always in the gutter! Yet you won’t complain if that gets you affection from him.

To have me stare at you with his signature loving smile, gloved hands cupping your face, his forehead against yours, the feather of his wings gently touching your horns. 

“Anything related to you.” Looking lovingly at him, before he leaned, gently kissing your lip, making you grasp onto his collar—pulling him in deeper—making you breathless when he pulled away from you. 

“Sunday..”

“Shhh…let’s not end this so quickly.” He impatiently went back to your lips. Wanting way more than you could give him. And they say you’re the devilish one when they should be telling him that. 

𝒢𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒶𝑔𝒽𝑒𝓇

“Aren’t you drinking a bit too much?”

“Ha. Ha. I’m not drunk, I can hold my drink.” You laugh a little as you drink another shot. You can handle your drinks! You do feel a little red and dizzy but that’s just because it’s been a while.

Yet he knows you’re drunk. Sitting on the bar table like a carefree child. Gallagher is no idiot, he knows a drunk when he sees one.

“I’m so fine. Like so good. I mean I’ve never been better!” “Ah huh.” Your long tail was swinging around, wagging around before wrapping around his leg. Now he can’t move or else he might pull your tail while trying to get away.

You hiccup a little. “Gallagher, you wanna touch my horns? Hehe. I saw you staring at them before. Ya wanna?”

He isn’t the type to take advantage of you while you’re drunk but it’s not as if touching your horns would cause anything bad to happen. You did offer him the chance. Also, he might just be a little curious.

“Don’t blame me for you being stupid.” 

His white-gloved hand gently touched your horns, feeling the indents and the texture, but it was oddly cold. His touching just made you shut your mouth and tail wrap tighter.

When he pulled away from your horns you immediately missed his warm touch, causing you to take his hand and put it on your horns.

“Come on, don't stop now.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[taintedbenevolence]

Hello 𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐫𝐚 !~

A fellow anon here, I was requesting a silly smut~ Neuvillette and A fem reader indulging in the sweetest thing of …

𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐘

I think it would be a very very cute thing if.. it went south? :3

PLEASE BEGGING FOR HEIGHT DIFFERENCE AND SIZE KINK

- 𝐕 📍📌

a/n: ah, this is certainly interesting. please, do forgive me for the extremely late delivery, writer's block has been destroying me as of late. I like to think that when reader first brings up the idea of the whole pocky thing, it would be up to her to try to convince Neuvi to try it out. There's just no way he's doing this without being convinced of it. But once he's convinced I'm pretty sure he'll happily do it without complaints, and he might even bring it up another time. But please, spare Neuvi; he's being constantly teased. Poor dragon has to put up with so much affection and teasing! Perhaps some love-making is in order, and maybe, just maybe, it's enough to reciprocate the sweetness he's being offered in turn?

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

Warnings!

sexual content, sexual insinuations, size kink, dom!neuvillette, implied sub!reader, implied fem!reader, reader is implied to be married with neuvillette, implied height difference, semi-public sex, office sex, monster fucking(?), dragon neuvillette, double penetration, mature content not suitable for minors or audiences below the age of eighteen.

Character Pairing! Neuvillette x Fem! reader Characters Included! Neuvillette Series! Genshin Impact Classification! Smut THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD !!

Ah, you and your antics at it again.

Pocky.

Of all things in the world. Of course you'd try and tempt the Iudex of Fontaine with Pocky.

Had you not learned your lesson, truly? How many times must he reprimand you for interrupting his important work for such mundane and irregular activities you could engage in at a more proper time and space?

A shame, truly; you'd come dressed so beautifully lascivious when you presented yourself to him. It made him frown, thinking of the Melusines guarding his office who saw you walk by in such a suggestive manner. Could you not have spared them and waited for him to come home?

Unacceptable, he thinks to himself. Devilish, he murmurs, as you walked inside.

To interrupt his highly valued work for a treat? .. How unruly.

Alas, he couldn't complain. Not right now, when you felt so good, gasping, squirming and writhing beneath him, whining with your thighs pressed up to your heaving chest as he slowly penetrated you, making sure you absorbed every tiny, tingling sensation, ensuring you were alright as you sobbed.

Perhaps you should be glad the Hydro Dragon had arranged for the walls of his office to be soundproof a few months ago. You'd pity the Melusines if they were to hear the venereal sounds that were to come out of both you and Neuvillette.

The dragon slowly slid himself inside you, the tip of his other member already with a ring of pre-cum as it rubbed your folds messily. The usually stoic, gentle Iudex now had a lack of regards for propriety and neatness, drinking in your soft mewls and desperate moans as you trembled beneath him.

You were so tiny, so very small in comparison to him. It almost made you look pathetic with how big he was. You still remembered it - being pushed down and only feeling the abnormally large bulge of your husband only slightly grinding down on you, only feeling your heartbeat race as he undressed.

You knew by now how he was usually in bed - gentle, sweet, cautious. A soft-hearted, caring partner who put your needs first before his own. Yet most, if not all of that, seemed to be suppressed in this moment, where you found yourself fully exposed, forced to stare as you watched your beloved stretch your walls to accommodate to only just one of his cocks.

And speaking of the other one, you only kept squirming more because it kept rubbing, creating friction against your folds, causing you to quiver. The motion was slow and painful, yet the movement of him entering you also tingled you with brief flicks of pleasure.

Sliding further deeper inside with greater speed, he earned from you a sudden, sharp whine.

"A-ah!.. 't's, too m-much," you gasp consequentially, shuddering, feeling him slightly twitch inside of you. Yet the Iudex only hushes you, caressing your lips with slender fingers as he only slides in deeper, ensuring you've taken all of his length.

"You'll be alright," he reassures, and you can't help but question just how he remains so stone-faced whilst he adjusts to how tight you're squeezing him, your wetness and arousal all too visible to him as he parted you.

Really, just how needy were you? For archons' sake, you were wet and ready before he had laid a finger on you.

He moves slightly, and he feels your walls tighten around him, causing a slight groan, more akin to a hiss to escape between his lips. Gods, you were so tight. How long has it been since you...-

"S' much," You whine, bringing him out of his thoughts. For crying out loud, he had barely even begun to move, let alone do half the things he had in mind for the evening.

"You'll take it," Neuvillette only huffs in his usual, monotone voice, with a few grunts emitting from him as he slowly begins to thrust, moving in and out, picking up the pace as your moans and cries increase in volume and rapidity, letting him know that you do well enjoy this.

He's pounding in you at a velocity at which you grow to no longer register, wave after wave of pleasure hitting you to the core. Your eyes squeeze shut and open slightly as your lips part, breathy moans leaving your throat.

There is not much sound in the office of the Iudex, save for the nasty noise of wet slapping of skin against skin and a mix of groans and moans. Thrust after thrust, your mind's thoughts slowly become blank, unable to think of anything, exempting how good it felt to be fucked to oblivion by none other than the Hydro Dragon Sovereign.

You could already tell your high was on its way, but as soon as you felt it come, you felt the sudden thrusts come to a stop, and you only slightly blink, gazing at Neuvillette as you see him retract. Yet it's not enough, leaving both of his members still perfectly aligned with your sensitive folds and your hole, leaving you twitching on occasion.

"Neuvi?" you manage to whimper, as you slightly yelp, feeling his large body press onto your smaller frame, his cold gaze firmly fixated onto your flushed body, cold sweat starting to line on your brows, his two members' tips slightly penetrating you.

It earns a soft whine from you, a few tears beginning to prick the corners of your eyes, although not out of agony, as your brain is reduced to mush, your heart beating for a night's pleasure with the Iudex of Fontaine.

"Silence, if you would," hearing your whine, the Iudex replies sternly. "You've already interrupted me enough this evening." And you only hear an irritated sigh, before you meet his lustful gaze.

His fingers grasp your chin, slowly tilting it so that you meet his gaze, his glowing, ocean hues staring down at you. "Let me remind you once more, [Name]. What happens when you interrupt my duties as the Iudex of Fontaine?"

A mouthful, for such an intimate moment.

"I'm quite sure you aren't aware of the consequences you enlist yourself to be subject to by doing these things," The Hydro Dragon rumbles as his grip on your chin tightens.

"Or it could well be that you do not care. It seems I'll have to be the one to personally administer your punishment." His eyes narrow as he speaks.

Your eyes only faintly widen at his words, and the Iudex only smiles at that faintly, chuckling softly as his free hand trails up behind your head, slowly running through your hair, before he grips it tightly, almost in a harsh manner, contrasting the sweetness of his words.

"I do hope you know well that this night is still far from its end, ma bien-aimée. We very well have a long way to go before it culminates."

[selfloverrrrrr]

Can you do yandere suguru x non sorcerer reader

You can't say no to me~

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physically and emotional abuse, biting, torture, size difference....

Summary: y/n is a non-sorcerer. She's a maid of Geto's cult. Geto knows that she's a non-sorcerer but still can't stop himself.... He wants her and he'll get her!

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Masterlist

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

I was working as a maid in the cult. Geto Suguru joined the cult. And I heard he's very strong. He's the cult leader. When I saw him I couldn't believe my own eyes. How can anyone be so handsome???!!!

Yeah...he is handsome, has nice body. But he isn't a good person... He hate everyone here. Doesn't let everyone touch his things. If anybody accidentally touches his things. He will punish them in a fucking devilish way!!! I don't like him. But I don't know why he never got angry on me. And let me touch his things too.

There were so many maids of Geto. I'm one of them. The thing is all the female maids had the maid dress like knee length. But mine was a little shorter. I don't know why they gave me a shorter one. The thing is the guys at there cult always tease me! But one good thing about Geto is he always helps me if any guy wants to touch me or tease me....

It was a day when Geto said all maids were going home before night. It was a night off for all the maids. We all quickly did our works. It was time to leave. We were about to leave when I saw Geto. He looked at me. "Uh...y/n can you please stay here for a bit...? Actually I told them all to leave I need one maid to take care of the things...you don't have to work tomorrow" Geto said with a charming smile.

' tomorrow whole day off? I should accept this offer ' I thought. "It's okey Geto-sama" I replied bowing in front of him. Geto smile. "Thank you so much y/n... Please come with me then " he said. I went with him.

We entered the bedroom. " Please tell me Geto-sama what I have to do for you" I asked bowing inform of him. "Nothing much you have ready the bed for me" he said. So I turned to go to arrange the bed. But I saw the bed was already arranged. Every thing was arranged. " But Geto-sama the bed is already arranged... I think you can sleep there" I said looking at him. "Tsk tsk.... It's not ready.... Your aren't on the bed yet.... How is that arranged?" Geto said. I got shocked by his words. "Huh? I-i don't understand " I said. "Oh come on darling. Don't be innocent... you know why I asked you to say tonight...." He said and started walking towards me and I started walking backwards. "G-geto sama .... I d-didn't work for that." I said. "Shhh... You don't need to think that much.... what you have to do is sit on the bed and spread your legs wideeeee for me" he said.

I could feel the situation was getting worse. I tried to run towards the door but he grabbed my hair and dragged me towards his bed. I groaned in pain. He threw me on his bed. Took off his kimono and threw it on the floor then started crawling towards me on the bed."P-Please stop" I said and tried to push myself backwards but he grabbed my leg and pulled me towards him. I gasped. He was still smirking."stop?... Where's the fun then? The fun part is about to began ~" he whispered and crashed his lips on mine.

I could feel the situation was getting worse. I tried to run towards the door but he grabbed my hair and dragged me towards his bed. I groaned in pain. He threw me on his bed. Took off his kimono and threw it on the floor then started crawling towards me on the bed."P-Please stop" I said and tried to push myself backwards but he grabbed my leg and pulled me towards him. I gasped. He was still smirking."stop?... Where's the fun then? The fun part is about to began ~" he whispered and crashed his lips on mine.

I tried to push him away but his grip was too strong. I can't even move myself. He was kissing me too roughly. I couldn't breathe. He grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head. My boobs bounced out. He looked at those with lust in his eyes and didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned in the sensetion. I grabbed his hair and tried to stop him by pulling it but it didn't even effect on him. "G-geto sama stopppp" I scremed but he didn't stop.

Then he took off my pantie."I'm gonna keep it~" he whispered and then looked at my pussy. He rubbed his finger on my clit and whispered " so wet. You naughty girl, were you thinking about me fucking you?". Then he licked my pussy. I couldn't help but moan loudly. He smirked at my reaction and undo his pant.

His dick sprang out. It was too big and too thick. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " G-geto sama no no no... P-please no... s-stop" I begged but didn't even listen to me and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I scremed. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thursting in and out roughly. I was throughing my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he was liking it so much. His thurst became harder and harder. I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " ughhhhhh....ahhh s-so...ahhhh....so f-fucking tight " he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thurst I came. He smirked at me He was still thursting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh...no please no....ahhhhhh..... n-not ahhhh.....not inside..." I moaned. He grabbed my throat and chocked me down to the bed. "Shut up and just fucking take what I'm giving you." He screamed. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out. My vision blurred out.

" You don't know how much I wanted this! How much I imagined about this.... I want you...I love you.... I hate all of those non sorcerers...but you....you're different.... and you remember I told you that you don't have to work tomorrow... right? Well that's because you gonna be on my bed all the day, darling.... and if struggle... I'm gonna fuck you infront of every one!!!" He whispered in my ear.

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