#he deserves the finest wine

[michamiw]

Happy B-day to the Don Juan Triumphant! 🎉🎉🎉

[akkivee]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR FAVOURITE BUNNY BASTARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

[cherrybr4t]

DILF!SEUNGCHEOL (+18, mdni)

A/N: to the anon that requested for some dilf cheol, i love u i am u. i think about dilf cheol probably 20 times a day. wanted to write a hc but got carried away…as u can see… 2k words 💨💨💋

WARNINGS: smut, DILF CHEOLL, unprotected sex, oral (f rec), dom!cheol, sub!reader, f reader, it’s pretty mild…i think…

dilf!cheol whom you met while bringing your niece to her weekly soccer practice. you often helped to babysit her, and you loved seeing her in action — playing passionately every sundays, calling out to her aunt on the field with her adorable pigtails

dilf!cheol first noticed you on one fateful saturday practice at the stands, shades at the top of your head, pretty face with your ponytail dangling behind you

dilf!cheol comes up to you; telling you that you look younger than all the other parents here. you explain that you’re here for your niece, while he mentions his own daughter on the soccer field

dilf!cheol wastes no time, and asks you out on a date the second time yall meet during practice, as if you could say no to the most handsome man you’ve ever met in your 22 years of living…

dilf!cheol decided that a gem like you deserved the finest things in life — bringing you to his favourite restaurant, a private room he booked out specially for you, the best wine on the menu, with the most spectacular view (especially the man in front of you clad in a sleek button up, hair flawless as he combs it back every few minutes)

dilf!cheol who has his own successful company running, always mentions how his daughter is the light of his life, the one thing that kept him going after his ex-girlfriend up-ed and left after leaving pretty little sua on his doorstep. all he wants is to provide the best for his lil munchkin

dilf!cheol being a gentleman, drives you home and you invite him up for some tea, not wanting to end the night there. he agrees, though it probably wasn’t the best decision; considering how he told himself not to fuck you yet — not after a few more dates (he strongly believes he does not have the sex drive of a 20 year old) aaand he really did not trust himself to be in a room alone with you

dilf!cheol was right — feeling all his self-restraining effort go down the drain as he looks at you, sitting so damn near him on the couch, you might as well be on his lap.

you weren’t playing though. you wanted him, and you needed him immediately. your hands dancing dangerously on his thighs, leaning in closer to him whenever he made a witty comment.

fuck the water that was done boiling. you weren’t going to leave this couch to go make some tea, all you could think about was how cheol looked like he was about to lose it too.

he leans in. you lean in. “cheol…” the way you uttered his name in such a soft and slightly raspy manner made his breath hitch. he definitely caught on to the slight cry and need for him to make the move

that was all he needed, before he crashed his lips onto yours, kissing you so fucking deep, you could feel every crevice of his pretty cherry lips, drenched with the need to meet yours. his tongue — oh god his tongue, dancing with yours half way through the kiss, as if teasing you, showing you what that pink muscle of his was capable of.

dilf!cheol loved making demands. first, you were to strip out of your red dress slowly, standing in front of the couch where he sat, manspreading with his elbows propped up on the sofa. he stares, hungrily, eyes watching every movement you made to remove that article of clothing that was driving him crazy all night.

after which he demanded you to sit on his lap like a good girl — making sure you knew that he loves rewarding good girls. the dark spot on your lace panties made him chuckle. “you wanted this that bad princess? had to ask me if i wanted a cup of tea, when this was your true intention all along…” he traces his finger along your thigh as you settle down on his lap.

you let out a whine — embarrassed, but it was true. “why princess? admit it, you wanted me so bad you were willing to do anything to get us in this situation,” his fingers continued tracing to the back of your bra, unhooking it with one hand, letting the lace material fall to the ground.

���yes cheol, i wanted you so fucking bad i- , you looked so good, during dinner a-all i could think about was you fucking me right,” you moaned out, gripping on his hard shoulders, nails clutching on the fabric of his button up.

he let out a groan, “you thought about that during dinner? my dirty girl, so filthy — all for me, i made you like this didn’t I,” his hands travel to your tits, thumbs brushing on your hard nipples, before pinching both buds and pulling on them, eliciting a load shriek and moan from you.

“yes cheol, you did.. n-need you..” he latched his hot lips on your nipple, showing you once again the power of his pink muscle, licking and sucking like it was his favourite candy. it felt so fucking good you couldn’t help but cry out, grinding down on his crotch. feeling like any more attention towards your sensitive tits could make you cum sooner than expected.

“fuck princess you’re fucking soaking, i can already imagine how good that warm cunt will feel around my fingers, around my tongue..”

“and your cock cheol, need you to be inside me,”

“patience, i told you good girls get rewarded,” as if he himself could wait any longer.

he carries you to your room, laying you on your soft sheets. with no buffer time, you feel a pair of lips at your center, licking through the soaked material.

“o-oh my god, cheol,” he rips the material off you, leaving you exposed right in front of him, and he swears he’s never felt this hungry for pussy before. he licks, he inserts that tongue of his down your warm cunt, pushing the walls open, slurping every single drop of you he can. wrapping his thick lips around that sensitive nub of yours, sucking it hard enough that you cry out, arching your back as you laced your fingers through those locks of his, pushing him closer.

“so good.. so good cheol…more more..,” you were a broken record, all you could think about was chasing your high, and the man in front of you was more than happy to make that happen.

“yeah, princess? so good for me, so fucking delicious you deserve to be eaten out every day every fucking hour, goddd,” wanting to look at your pretty face as he makes you come, he rubs your sensitive engorged clit roughly in tight fast circles, while inserting two fingers without warning.

you screamed out, unable to control the unhinged moans slipping out of your lips. you felt otherwordly, as if you were ascending into a new realm with immense pleasure. “fuck, cheol oh my god oh my god,” your moans going higher in pitch when he curled his fingers, touching that textured gummy pad deep inside you, hitting it non stop.

“wanna cum princess? i know you want to, feels so fucking good doesn’t it? i know princess i know,” he spoke in an overly sweet tone, and it just made you clench around him even more. your knuckles turning white at how hard you were gripping those poor sheets.

“i wanna cum cheol, can i cum now? please please please,” your sweat blends with a drop of tear sliding down the side of your face, feeling your high literal seconds away.

cheol’s cock hurts, straining so bad against those dress pants of his. he needs to be inside you now, but he wants you to — no, needs you to come before that. “fuck, you can cum princess, let go for me,”

and you let go, spasming around his fingers, with the loudest cry of the night yet, body jerking up from the immense sensation of flood gates opening.

“yeah that’s right, princess, so good for me, so pretty when you cum, feels so good doesn’t it,” cheol swears he could cum in his pants at the sight of you coming undone, wrecked on his fingers. and he thinks to himself — it’s a sight he wants the privilege to have, every night, for the rest of his life possibly.

you came down from your high panting, looking up to see cheol in his boxers already, pulling them down, only to reveal the prettiest, girthiest cock you’ve ever seen, and all you want is for him to be in you, for him to make you his.

“i-i’m on the pill, you can go for it cheol,” you muttered out with whatever strength you had left in that moment, all you can think about was being pumped full of cheol’s cum. his heart thumps at your words. he lets out a groan, stroking his member as he gets back on top of you, and you admire how his muscle — his biceps and shoulders goes taut, god, he looked so fucking strong, you were about to cum the second time looking at him.

“ready princess? swear m’gonna fuck you til you’re full of my cum,” and he slowly inserts his full length inside of you, and you moan at the stretch his thick cock gives you.

“hnnng, so thick cheol, so big,” you moaned, nails gripping on his shoulders and he grabs both of your wrists, slamming it right above you on the pillow, holding you right there. you whined, while he spotted a smirk at the corner of his lips.

“look at you princess, so fucked out when i’ve just barely started, is my cock that good baby? hmm? you like it that much?” one hand pinning your wrists down, the other adjusting your leg above his shoulder. the angle making you feel him in places you didn’t know you could.

“this is what you wanted, right princess? fuuuck look at you, so fucking pretty all under me,” he falters; wanting to degrade and embarrass you to utter filth, but looking at you being so good under him, he can’t help but praise you, telling you how good you’re being for him.

your heart swells, pussy gripping onto him even tighter if that was even possible, “cheol…i wanna cum again, wanna cum around you,” you whine out, eliciting a deep growl from the man above you.

“i swear princess, you drive me fucking crazy,” he snaps his hips into you in an insane pace, feeling so lost in the feeling of you and your warm slippery cunt hugging his cock so good he thinks he went to heaven and back for a moment.

as he feels his release approaching, he’s in disbelief at how fast it comes, but he can’t hold it in any longer. “cum with me princess, fuck, can’t take it anymore, need to fill you up nice and full with my cum.” his moans get louder and you love how needy he sounds; not holding back, moaning your name with a crack in his voice.

with no warning, your orgasm crashes over you, arching your back, crying out cheol’s name as you spasm around him. “fuuuck baby i’m coming,” with slower thrusts, cheol leans down to give you a passionate kiss as he releases his hot load into you, it spills and shoots, so much fucking cum that it leaks out immediately and you moan at the feeling, at complete bliss being so full of his cum.

dilf!cheol giving you the best aftercare ever, you’re his and only his now, his princess and now he self declares that he’s going to take care of you like no other man could, or will!

dilf!cheol has a stamina of a teenager, going for multiple rounds throughout the night, leaving marks all over you, needing so bad to claim you as his.

yup…trust that i’m not done w dilf cheol and i’ll be back with MOREEE ✍️💋 anws i hope yall like it <33 if you did, like/comment/rb to lmk what u think abt it 😍 thanks for reading lovelies,, xoxo 😘💨💋

[tender-rosiey]

off the menu — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: you throw hands cuz a bich cant take no for an answer

the evening starts off well enough, the soft glow of the restaurant's lighting casting a warm hue over your quiet table with satoru.

it’s peaceful, intimate, and everything a date night should be—until the waitress begins her performance.

from the moment she approaches, something feels off. her attention seems almost glued to satoru, and the way she stands a little too close sets your teeth on edge.

as she pours his water, she bends over just enough to emphasize her neckline, a coy smile on her lips.

“so, how can I make this evening even better for you?” she asks, her voice sickly sweet as she looks satoru up and down, her eyes lingering a second too long.

you can feel the irritation rising, but you force yourself to remain calm—for now.

satoru, oblivious or perhaps just amused, leans back in his chair, lazily gesturing toward you with a smile. “I’m already good, thanks to my wife. you could say she makes every evening perfect.”

the waitress falters for a moment, her smile twitching, but she regains her composure quickly.

“lucky man,” she murmurs, eyes flicking to you before dismissing your presence entirely. “but surely, sir, you’d appreciate just a little extra attention tonight?”

she places the menu in front of him. “I can recommend our finest wine if you’d like. I know exactly what a man like you needs to make the evening unforgettable.”

“that’s very kind of you,” satoru replies, his tone polite yet distant. “but I really just want to enjoy dinner with my wife. she’s the only one I need to impress tonight.”

the waitress gives a tight smile, clearly undeterred. “well, if you change your mind, I’m just a call away. you know, they say great taste runs in the family—your wife must be quite the catch.”

you can feel the irritation bubbling over, but you stay silent, waiting for your chance. satoru glances at you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “she is. best decision I ever made.”

the waitress leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “you must be the envy of all the other guys here. a man like you deserves to be spoiled. I could help with that.”

“trust me, I’m already spoiled,” satoru shoots back, his grin widening as he pushes his chair away from her. “my wife knows how to treat me very right,” he hums, eyes flitting to you.

just as she’s about to respond, she places her hand on satoru's shoulder, leaning in with an exaggerated pout. “but what if I could make tonight special just for you?”

that’s when something in you snaps.

“excuse me?” you cut in, your voice sharp enough to slice through the tension. “did you just seriously put your filthy fucking hands on my husband?”

the waitress blinks, taken aback by your sudden outburst, but she still has the audacity to smirk. “I was just being polite,” she says, her tone dripping with mock innocence. “no need to get all worked up, sweetie.”

sweetie? you rise from your chair, voice steady but filled with venom. “polite? is that what you call openly flirting with a married man in front of his wife? you must have a death wish, huh?”

she tries to respond, but you cut her off, hand grabbing her by the collar. your grip is relentless, eyes glaring at her with imaginable heat.

her eyes widen as she stares fearfully at you. meanwhile, satoru grins, leaning on the table, thoroughly amused and maybe even turned on, but you don’t notice.

your voice grows louder, sharper as you give her a piece of your mind. “let me make one thing crystal clear—I don’t share what’s mine.

and especially not with someone who clearly doesn’t know the meaning of respect. so, why don’t you do us all a favor and stop embarrassing yourself?”

but you don’t stop there.

“do you always throw yourself at customers, or is it just the ones you think will tip better? because let me tell you, my husband doesn’t need your desperate little attempts to impress him,” you sneer, letting go of her roughly, and she hits the ground with a loud thud.

satoru is sitting back now, clearly entertained, his lips twitching as he watches you. the waitress, however, is visibly flustered, her face turning bright red as she stammers, “m-mister gojo, are you going to let her—”

“let her?” satoru interrupts, chuckling softly. “oh, I would let her humiliate me personally. plus if anything, I’m enjoying this. but really, you’re wasting your time. my wife already has all my attention, love, affection, and everything in between.”

the waitress, finally realizing she’s cornered, mumbles a quick apology before practically sprinting away from the table, leaving the two of you alone in the now-silent restaurant.

you sink back into your chair, your chest heaving slightly from the adrenaline, but satoru reaches out and takes your hand, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“you know,” he says, leaning in close, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper, “watching you go crazy like that? hottest thing I’ve seen all night.”

you roll your eyes, but a smirk tugs at your lips. “she had it coming.”

“definitely,” he agrees, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “so, what’s the plan for our next date? preferably somewhere with more waitresses for you to scare off.”

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[chuunai]

Dazai kisses you with the reverence of a worshipper. He’s eternally grateful that such a filthy, lowly demon such as himself received the affections of such an angel. His morning and nighty rituals begin and end with the same event—kisses all over your holy body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. They’re chaste and fleeting in the beginning, afraid to defile and corrupt you. But oh, he craves to hear the delicacies of your gentle hums and moans when he gets too messy later on and leaves a pretty mark. He knows mere mortals shouldn’t get too close to goddesses, but he can’t help but follow icarus’s steps and hope to touch the sun, you.

Chuuya kisses you like a man drunk in love. Your lips replace the bottle he used to seek comfort so often from, and the taste of red wine could never hold a candle to the taste of you. And not unlike the glasses full of alcohol, he finds himself asking for just one more kiss. They’re bold and clear to the point that he has given himself to you. He’ll proudly kiss the ground you walk on with the same energy he kisses you. He’s lost so many people in his life, and the one thing he wants is to keep you and your kisses all to himself. The finest wine deserves a knowledgeable man who won’t break the bottle.

Fyodor kisses you with the delicate touch of an artist. Every imprint of his lips on your skin is carefully arranged in an ethereal collage of devotion and intimacy. There’s no overdoing it or under-doing it, it’s the perfect amount. His words are always coated in sugary lies and webbed subsidiary secrets, and he opts to express his love through affectionate gestures such as a mere kiss. Being a man of God, naturally he strays away from anything too provocative and heated. Except sometimes in the dead of night, he thinks of Eve and the apple. He shouldn’t have you, no, but he can’t resist forever.

Sigma kisses you like he’ll lose you. The three years he has known this world has only taught him pain, anguish and anxiety. He’s so inexperienced, and he’s afraid that inexperience will frustrate you to the point of leaving him. There’s a bit of everything in a kiss with him, some tongue (he read about it online on a WikiHow article of how to kiss), the shaky hand on your cheek and hip and so much idolization. You lead most of the kisses by proxy, and he lets you. It’s okay if you use him like a toy. He’ll gladly be used as long as you don’t leave.

Nikolai kisses you with all the wild passion he can muster. The lipstick he wears smears across your skin, painting your Cupid’s bow red. Mutters of ‘pretty thing’ and ‘fucking delicious’ leave him with each deepening kiss. It’s a pity he’s thought about setting you free from this world during such a moment. Your heart bleeding around the knife, wails and whimpers of pain muffled by his lips while he guides you through the end of life. The last remnant of the chains holding him down would be gone if your kisses weren’t so hammering onto his soul. Every peck and smooch only solidifies his connection to you and this universe.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @briars-castle, @little-miss-chaoss, @sinfulthoughtsposts @starrs20

[curtins]

SO IT GOES — R. Sukuna

prologue. → newly-wed life is hardly what you expected it to be, its hardly a surprise. after all, how many people find themselves bound to the notorious king of curses? but after a frosty few weeks, sukuna finds the easiest way to win you over is when he's on his knees, and between your thighs.

pairing. ryomen sukuna x afab!reader

warnings. implied arranged marriage, sukuna-like jerkish behaviour that you might expect, softer ending, a bit of ooc sukuna and he's hardly an ideal husband but this is his version of trying, øral (fem! receiving), reader is referred to as 'little wife', questionable dynamics?

word count. 2.8k! song inspiration. so it goes — taylor swift, reputation a/n. up to u to imagine how reader ended up in this marriage lol

mp3. scratches down your back now, so it goes.

ryomen sukuna was not a being of great patience. as the king of curses, feared and revered for centuries, he had watched dynasties crumble, empires burn, and warlords kneel. but none of those victories compared to the relentless, quiet struggle he now faced: winning over his new wife.

it was absurd and annoying, really. why did he care what an impudent human thought of him? he had armies of souls quivering in terror before his throne, realms that chanted his name with bitterness and fury dwelling on their tongues.

yet, somehow, he found himself furious that you were as unimpressed with his power as you were by his world.

it gnawed at him, this strange need to see something other than disdain in your eyes. instead, he was growing sick of seeing you merely raise your chin, your gaze cold and unreadable, before turning and walking away, your robes trailing away like a splash of wine-red on stone floors.

and sukuna could only stand there, and scowl, with his arms crossed across his broad chest, resisting the urge to launch a column of fresh flames in your direction.

sukuna's first attempt had been bold, even by his standards. bolder than anything that a mortal like you ever deserved.

he had summoned the finest treasures from his vaults, gifts that would make emperors and khans grovel: strings of blood-red rubies, ivory combs carved with ancient spells, silks that shimmered like starlight under the cold nights. he had ordered them delivered to your chambers, confident these displays would thaw your indifference, for did women not clamour for such things in life?

yet you'd only glanced at them, a faintly polite look of thanks in your expression before you brushed the treasures aside, dismissing them as easily as the breeze stirred leaves in his gardens.

“it’s lovely,” you had murmured, your voice cool. “but unnecessary.”

unnecessary. the word irritated him, a thorn lodged too deep. unwanted. so he tried another approach.

the next evening, he brought you to his gardens — a place few had the honour of ever seeing.

it was quiet, twilight realm, with silver-petaled trees that glowed softly against the eternal dark. the air was scented with flowers that only bloomed under the moon, and shimmering koi would swim in ponds as black as polished obsidians. he'd assumed it would impress you, even move you to see such peace in a palace that was so fraught with the intimacy of blood, flesh and violence. instead, he felt all of his eyes twitch as you gazed around with a calm, fatigued expression, and nothing more.

"it's beautiful," you had admitted, fingers wringing under the long sleeves of your robe, but you had sniffled and looked back up at him with a mild grimace, "but i have really bad allergies to most flowers."

what the fuck were allergies?

later, he learned that it was some ailments that only mortals could suffer, one that would leave them reddened and swollen, gods be good.

sukuna could feel himself growing frustrated, and the urge to toss you in chains was welling up inside. yet, for reasons that he loathed to name, he fought it down. he didn't want you to leave, didn't want to watch you retreat into your shell yet again. but it was difficult letting the silence linger, this strange vulnerability settling deep within his chest.

and as night fell, alone in his vast chamber, the king of curses was ashamed to admit that he was brooding. if treasures and displays of tranquility meant nothing to you, what would? there was another avenue, one that left a curling, bitter pit in his mouth, a trait that he so loathed to display to all.

humility. how boring. how mortal.

but regardless, he appeared at the wide doors of your chambers the next morning. he had even relished the brief look of surprise on your face, but it was quickly replaced by the cool-glass mask that sat over your features once more. he must have made for quite the sight indeed — in his true form, two arms at his side, and the other two folded behind him.

sukuna didn't quite miss at how your gaze lingered over his vast form, and then your eyes twitched.

“today,” he announced gruffly, “i am going to make you tea. myself.”

how ridiculous, he could imagine uraume snickering to hell and back.

he half expected you to laugh or scorn him, but you simply raised your eyebrows, seemingly quietened and more curious. without waiting for you to decline, he led you to a quiet corner of the chambers, where servants tended to lay out such items, as part of a morning routine. there was a simple tea set, nothing adorned with gold or precious stones, but rather plain and finely crafted porcelain.

he waited for you to settle, watching as you arranged your thick skirts and tucked your legs beneath you. only then did Sukuna speak.

"i don’t like you," he said bluntly. "you’re ill-mannered and audacious. i’ve half a mind to send you back."

you blinked, her lashes lifting in surprise, and a small, satisfying crease formed between your brows before your expression turned into a scowl. "that’s rather unkind."

sukuna shrugged, eyes narrowed. "wouldn’t you say the feeling is mutual?"

you glowered back, unflinching. "you can hardly blame me. you’re a demon, after all. i don’t even know you."

"a 'demon' who has been exceedingly kind to you," he replied, his tone curt, clipped. "there are far worse fates that could have befallen you. i’ve been too amiable to a woman like you."

you had jutted your lower lip forward, your skin catching under your teeth, lips dark as cherries dipped in blood and wine, and for a brief moment, sukuna's ire faltered before refocusing.

"and you think kindness is stuffing me into fancy chambers and draping jewels around my neck? like i'm one of your prized and properly bred deer?"

sukuna leaned forward, arching a brow with lazy derision. "don't speak ill of my prized herd. but go on, preach to me of kindness."

your scowl deepened. "you haven’t even bothered to ask me a single thing about myself. showering me with material things isn’t how you make someone happy, much less a wife. the servants told me you forbade me from attending your court, and i'm left alone in this palace for days on end."

sukuna blinked, yes, he had forbidden you from attending court, but that was for both your dignities. it would be disastrous to expose you to the fools, murderers, and curses of his realm — a mortal bride, naive and untrained, would only appear weak and vulnerable.

"fine," he said, with a hint of resignation, and ridicule. "i’ll ask things about you from now on. would that make you feel better, little wife?"

he pushed the tea he’d prepared towards her, holding the porcelain cup in his hands. "now, go on. drink this."

your gaze remained cool as you eyed the steam brewing in the cup. "the first thing you should know is that i don’t like this tea, you picked the wrong leaves. you drink it, good husband."

sukuna resisted the urge to throw the boiling liquid at you, but instead he pushed the cup into your empty hands, "don’t be a fuckin' brat. behave and drink it."

you didn't say anything, but you shoved the cup back into his larger hands, and sukuna snarled, thrusting the delicate tea with a greater force than expected, and splash!

the silent tug of war had resulted in the bitter leaves being strewn across the heavy silk layers of your robes, and despite himself, sukuna couldn't help how his lips quirked upwards at your shocked, angry expression as you launched yourself up, flicking your sleeves in his face like a flapping bird, muttering furious, filthy words that not even a sailor would sing on his most drunken of nights.

as you stormed around the chamber like an angry parrot, sukuna watched you silently, and surely he could not be faulted for this. he would not admit this ever, but it was pleasing to rest his eyes on your figure, on your face, on the cling of your robes to the curve of your hips.

"go sit on the bed."

you whipped around, glaring at him. "i will not! stop telling me what to do."

"enough of being difficult, sit down."

now your voice had begun to falter, "i need to change my robes. this is improper if i'm to leave these chambers."

by now, he had stood and moved quick to the edge of the vast canopy bed, where you had perched yourself gingerly. close, all too close, where he could inhale the intoxicating scent of honey and mint, a fresh soap perhaps?

"i will determine what is proper, and improper," sukuna murmured, and there, for the first time in written history, the king of curses dropped to his knees.

and he relished the flush on your cheeks, a red brushstroke that had appeared as quick as a fallen star, running your skin awash with heat. you had peered down at him, squirming under his many-eyed gaze. and he enjoyed this, relished at bringing himself closer to her long skirts, until his hands found their place on your thighs.

"what are you — " your words trailed off, tone breathier, as he pawed suddenly at the silk, pushing it up, and up. revealing the stockings you had worn to combat the winter cold, where the hem clung to the fat of your thighs, and so close to the silk of your innermost garments that were now starting to feel like an awful suffocation.

"what am i doing? helping you, or is this not a manner of how a husband can treat his unruly wife?"

you couldn't help but feel a shiver run through you, a tremble pass through your very core as the world around you faded, and all you could focus on was the pair of warm, large hands that ran along your sensitive skin.

"ah, ah —," sukuna rumbled smoothly, lips quirked up a fraction, "we can't have you suddenly shy now, can we? had quite the mouth on you a minute ago."

you weren't sure where to direct your gaze. to the window outside, frosted from the cold hands of winter. to your hands, which lay at your side, rumpled up in your bundled skirts. or to the blush-haired king between your legs, whose carmine eyes were crinkled in feigned amusement, and darkened with undeniable lust.

he taps the plush of your thighs once more, watching as they ripple under the press of his fingertips, "enough being coy. spread them. i do not have all day."

it would not have been a falsehood to claim that a deeper, headier feeling lay in your abdomen, purring like a beast that begged for its maws to be free. undoubtedly, a puddle of slick would be pressing against the silk of your undergarments, like a translucent stain that created a darker, glossy patch between your legs.

but you did not budge, did not move your thighs further. you loathed to admit this to a living soul, but perhaps you found satisfaction in this. there was a sort of pleasure in watching a mighty being brought low, and close to the apex of your thighs. but it seemed that your husband's limited patience had worn thin.

his dark nails dug into your thighs brusquely, in a tight and unyielding grip, knocking them back as if he had no time to spare for anything else in the world.

"fuck you, you're so -," and then your voice breaks off, as the king of curses is pressing his tongue against the sleek, dampened fibres of your undergarments.

and it's oddly...pleasing for sukuna. how intoxicating. he runs his tongue between his teeth, catching around a fang as he fights back the realisation that this is no chore for him, not anymore. perhaps both parties in this room have their own vested interests now.

he pushes his fingers past the undergarments, where slender fingers find a home in the gloss that's practically leaking out of you, "i do not bore you so much now, do i?"

"shut up, - ah!"

he's practically twirling his middle and ring finger between your folds now, letting them run a smooth dance over glistening skin and it left you keening and whimpering, for he was so so close to where you truly wanted him, needed him.

but you need not even articulate this wanton request for him, for his mouth is back on your core, and he's clearly enjoying this without abandon, and without shame. strands of sweet slick splattered across his chiseled features, clinging to his lips but he seemed to care not, and you could only moan and squeal when his fangs made contact with more force that intended.

one arm has your thighs pinned back, leaving a clear space for him to slot his wide frame in between the gap, and another works to pump fingers between your tight walls. a mortal man may be exhausted to his limits in such a state, after all, what can one accomplish when limited by two limbs?

but your husband is no mortal man. a third hand has been running down your groin, past the hair on your mound and from there, a thumb right on your throbbing clit. you feel as though you forget how to breathe when his fingers waywardly flick around, and you cry out, the feeling leaving you breathless and your heart absolutely pounding for reprieve.

"so now she can behave," sukuna's voice is low, mocking and your hands find purchase in the surprisingly soft strands of his hair, pulling forward, as you can't help but get another jibe in.

"if only you had done, hah - this from the start," your voice curls up the sky, weak to your own ears.

smack!

a sharp and shrill cry left your parted lips, as the thick pads of his fingers had come pressing down on your swollen bud. and you could feel stars building up between your eyes, caressing you and taking your breath away.

sukuna looks pleased, mouth glistening and his crimson eyes narrow, "that will teach you to speak when you're spoken to, brat."

and you can only yank on his scalp harder, relishing in how you can feel his broad shoulder's jostle as you do so. your husband's face is flushed, brows furrowed and later you will wonder and marvel at just how intently he seemed to be enjoying such a task that he claimed was so menial and beneath him.

you pity the servants who will not speak a word, but exchange glances as they bundle up the sheets after this. for it's nothing but a syrup-laden mess by now, sloppy and purely wet.

by now the world has long disappeared behind you, in front of your very eyes, and you can only heave your chest towards the sky, rolling your eyes back and shamelessly giving into the wanton moans that bubble out from your lips.

and sukuna is nothing short of utterly satisfied. one look at his mouthy wife's expression, cherry lips parted in a perfect circle, and brows furrowed like a painting — like arrows leaving their bow and finding their target. you need to finish on his tongue, he needs you to finish.

so he pushes his face into your sloppy, sticky cunt even harder. he even lets you run your hands through his hair (a criminal offence, he is certain but perhaps he'll let you go, just this once). he almost purrs when your hands wander further onto his neck, leaving small scratches that almost make him release into his pants.

but now all his energy is poured into making sure you get your climax, that you submit to him and let him have you.

"are you close, little wife?" his voice is akin to gravel now, raw like each clipped syllable was a little too rough for the air to carry. and he only receives breathy whimpers in response, your hips moving off their own accord against his face.

and it's only when you jolt against him, stiffening and crying out praises to the heavens and to the gods, that he loosens up, and pulls you even closer, till your thighs are spread entirely at the widest angle they may reach, enough to leave the muscles in your thighs sore and aching afterwards, "there are no gods here, wife. you best get used to that."

and afterwards, you cannot help the bubbling, bashful grin that erupts over your bitten, stung lips as you peer at your husband who dutifully rests in between your thighs still, you could get used to that indeed.

"do it again."

[misswynters]

Wine

aemond targaryen x wife!reader

[WARNING: switch!aemond, implied mommy kink?, riding, lactation kink but with wine?, let me know if there are any mistakes

[requested: by @demigoddessqueens (everyone say thanks)

[a/n: both you and aemond are switches and this is the first time i’m writing this type of thing :3

Aemond knelt before you in the privacy of your chambers, his tall, imposing figure somehow made small by the sheer humility in his posture. The low, flickering light of the hearth cast long shadows across the room, turning the walls into a canvas of shifting shapes. But the only thing that mattered was the man before you—Aemond Targaryen, Prince of the Realm, brought to his knees by his own desires, and by you, his wife.

The tension in the air was thick, palpable, as if the very walls of the room held their breath, waiting for the inevitable. Aemond’s single eye, the vibrant violet of old Valyria, locked onto yours with an intensity that could have melted stone. But tonight, there was no fire in his gaze, no dragon-like fury—only a deep, aching need.

You stood above him, holding a goblet filled with the finest Arbor red wine. The deep crimson liquid sloshed gently as you tilted the cup ever so slightly, just enough to let the wine catch the light. Aemond’s breath hitched, his lips parting as his eye followed the movement of your hand, as if entranced.

“You want this, don’t you?” you asked, your voice a low, sultry purr that filled the room with an almost tangible heat.

“Yes,” Aemond whispered, his voice strained, laced with desperation. “Please…”

There was something so intoxicating about the way he begged—this powerful man, a dragonrider, a warrior, reduced to nothing but a trembling, needy husband before you. You reveled in the control you had over him, the way he willingly gave himself to you, trusting you with his vulnerability.

With deliberate slowness, you lowered the goblet toward his lips, but stopped just short of letting him drink. His eye flicked up to meet yours, a flash of panic crossing his features as you teased him, holding the cup just out of reach. He didn’t dare move, though you could see the strain in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched into fists behind his back.

“Do you think you deserve it?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Aemond swallowed hard, his throat working as he struggled to form words. “I—I want to deserve it,” he stammered, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and longing. “I want to please you, my lady. I’ll do anything…”

Your lips curved into a slow, wicked smile as you tilted the goblet just enough to let a single drop of wine fall onto his waiting tongue. He groaned softly at the taste, his eye fluttering closed as he savored the brief, tantalizing sensation. But you pulled the cup away again, making him whimper in protest.

“Anything?” you repeated, your voice laced with amusement as you crouched down to his level. You were so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, see the slight tremor in his hands as he struggled to maintain control. He nodded fervently, his eye wide with need.

“Good,” you murmured, tracing the rim of the goblet with your finger before bringing it to his lips once more. This time, you allowed the wine to flow freely, pouring it into his mouth as he eagerly drank, his lips wrapping around the edge of the cup like a man starved.

Some of the wine spilled over, trailing down his chin and neck, staining his skin a deep, sinful red. You watched, enthralled, as the liquid dripped onto his collar, seeping into the fabric of his tunic. Aemond’s breathing grew heavier, more labored, as he drank, and when you finally pulled the goblet away, his lips were stained with the rich hue of the wine.

You leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over his skin as you licked a stray droplet of wine from the corner of his mouth. Aemond shuddered under your touch, his whole body tensing as he fought to keep still. The taste of the wine, mixed with the saltiness of his skin, was intoxicating, and you found yourself drawn to him, unable to resist the pull.

Pressing your lips to his, you kissed him deeply, your tongue slipping into his mouth to claim the remnants of the wine. He moaned into the kiss, his eye closing as he surrendered completely to you, his hands trembling where they rested on the floor. You could feel the intensity of his desire in the way he kissed you back, the way his whole body seemed to ache for your touch.

When you finally pulled away, Aemond was panting, his lips parted and his eye half-lidded with lust. His hair, usually so meticulously kept, was now disheveled, strands falling into his face. You brushed them aside gently, your fingers lingering in his hair, savoring the feel of the silky strands.

“You’ve been so good,” you whispered, your voice softening just a fraction. “So sweet.”

His eye fluttered open, and the look of adoration in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. He nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to steady his breathing. “I’ll always be good for you,” he said, his voice hoarse, raw with emotion. “Whatever you want… i’m yours.”

The sheer sincerity in his words, the absolute devotion, made your pulse quicken. You set the goblet aside, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the stubble beneath your touch. He leaned into your hand, a small, contented sigh escaping him as he closed his eye once more.

You guided him gently onto his back, his body melting into the soft furs beneath him. He looked up at you, his violet eye wide, vulnerable, and utterly captivating. You straddled his waist, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, and leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear.

“Tonight, you will relax,” you whispered, your breath hot against his skin. “and do absolutely nothing.”

“Yes, my lady,” he breathed, his voice trembling with anticipation.

You began to unlace his tunic, your fingers deftly working at the knots until the fabric fell away, revealing the pale, sculpted planes of his chest. Aemond’s breath hitched as your hands roamed over his skin, tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm.

He was beautiful—almost too beautiful, with his alabaster skin and the faint scars that marked him as a warrior. But tonight, he was not a warrior, not not a prince or a dragonrider. Tonight, he was yours, and yours alone. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone, then another, slowly working your way down his chest.

Aemond moaned softly, his hands clenching the furs beneath him as he struggled to remain still. You could feel the tension coiled in his body, the way he was barely holding himself together. When you reached the waistband of his trousers, you paused, looking up at him through your lashes. His eye was dark with desire, his lips parted as he panted softly, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath.

"Do you want me to continue?" you asked, your voice a low, teasing murmur.

"Yes," he gasped, his voice breaking with desperation. "Please..."

A wicked smile curved your lips as you slowly, agonizingly slowly, began to unlace his trousers. Aemond's breath quickened, his whole body trembling with anticipation as you finally freed him from the confines of his clothing.

You took him in your hand, feeling the heat of his arousal, and he groaned, his eye squeezing shut as he arched into your touch. You stroked him slowly, watching the way his face contorted with pleasure, the way his lips parted in a silent plea for more. "Look at me," you commanded softly.

Aemond's eye fluttered open, and the sheer vulnerability in his gaze made your heart ache. He was completely at your mercy, and the power you held over him was intoxicating.

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his in a featherlight kiss. "My handsome husband," you whispered against his mouth.

"Yes," he echoed, his voice trembling with devotion.

And then you took his lips into your mouth, swallowing his moans as you worked him with slow, deliberate movements, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him trembling beneath you. Aemond's hands flew to your hair, gripping the strands tightly as he fought to control himself, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

You kept your movements slow, teasing, drawing out his pleasure until he was a quivering mess beneath you, his whole body trembling with need. When you finally pulled back, his eye was glazed with lust, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Please," he gasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Please, my lady.I can't..."

"Shh," you soothed, pressing a finger to his lips. "You don't need to do anything, my love. Just let me take care of you."

Aemond nodded, his eye fluttering closed as he surrendered completely to your touch. You straddled him once more, guiding him into you with a slow, deliberate movement that made you both gasp. The feeling of him filling you, the heat of his body against yours, was almost overwhelming, and you had to take a moment to steady yourself. His hands found your hips, his grip almost bruising as he held you in place, his whole body trembling with the effort to remain still. You began to move, slowly at first, savoring the way he filled you, the way his hands tightened on your hips as he fought to keep control.

His eye fluttered open, and the look of sheer adoration in his gaze made your heart ache with a fierce, burning love. You leaned down, capturing his lips in a deep, searing kiss as you rode him. Your The way your hips bounced on his was growing faster and more desperate, as the knots in your stomach began to tighten. Aemond's hands roamed your body, his touch both gentle and possessive, as if he couldn't decide whether to hold you close or let you go. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body tensing beneath you as he neared the edge.

"Come for me," you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back your own release.

Aemond's whole body shuddered as he finally let go, his release crashing over him with a force that left him breathless, trembling beneath you. You followed him over the edge, your own release tearing through you, leaving you both gasping for air.

Your hips rolled slowly, teasingly, savoring the way he filled you so completely, the way his thick length stretched and filled your inner walls.

You could feel every vein, every ridge of him, your walls tightening around his cock with each agonizingly slow thrust.

Aemond's hands flexed at his sides, his jaw clenched as he held back the torrent of need threatening to consume him.

You leaned forward, your breasts brushing against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your skin. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one trembling with the effort to remain still, to let you take him as you pleased. His eye locked onto yours, the sheer vulnerability in his gaze making your core throb with desire.

"Aemond," you whispered, your voice a husky command that sent a shiver down his spine. "Touch me."

His eye widened, a flash of uncertainty crossing his features as he hesitated, unsure if he could trust himself to obey without losing control. You didn't give him a choice. Reaching down, you took his hand in yours, guiding it between your bodies, down to where you were joined.

His fingers trembled as you placed them against your bundle of nerves, the sensitive nub already swollen with arousal. The slightest brush of his touch sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your thighs quivering as you gasped softly.

Aemond's breath hitched, his eye widening as he felt the slick heat of your arousal against his fingertips, the way your body clenched around him in response.

"Right there," you murmured, guiding his hand in slow, deliberate circles over your clit. Aemond groaned, his whole body tensing as he watched you ride him, his touch growing bolder, more insistent as he lost himself in the sensation of pleasing you.

You began to move faster, your hips rolling in a rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your heart. Every thrust sent a wave of pleasure crashing through you, your core tightening with each movement, driving you closer to the edge. Amond's fingers worked your clit with a desperate intensity, his touch sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through your body, making you tremble with the effort to hold on.

Aemond was a mess beneath you, his chest heaving, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to keep up with you, to match your rhythm, to please you in every way he could. His eye was half-lidded, glazed with lust as he watched you, his lips parted in a silent plea, a prayer to the gods of pleasure.

You could feel the tension coiling in your lower belly, the tight knot of desire that threatened to unravel at any moment. Your hands found purchase on his chest, your nails digging into his skin as you rode him harder, faster, chasing your release with a singleminded determination.

"Aemond," you gasped, your voice trembling with the sheer force of the pleasure building within you. "Don't stop."

Aemond's fingers moved faster, his touch desperate, as if he couldn't bear the thought of not bringing you to the peak of pleasure once more. His other hand gripped your hip, guiding you as you rode him, his thrusts growing erratic as he teetered on the edge himself.

Your orgasm hit you with the force of a hurricane, your body tensing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your inner walls clenched around Aemond, milking him for everything he had, drawing a choked cry from his lips as he came undone beneath you, his release spilling into you once more.

You collapsed onto his chest, your bodies slick with sweat, your breath mingling as you both struggled to come down from the high. Aemond's arms wrapped around you, holding you close, as if he never wanted to let go. His heart still pounded beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that matched the thrum of satisfaction coursing through your veins.

taglist: @beebeechaos @spn-obession @thornsandtulips @benjicotblckwood

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[solkara]

❛ 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐄𝐍𝐕𝐘 , alicent hightower and rhaenyra targaryen ❜

⌗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 , as the eldest and only heir to viserys targaryen naturally you were born with more responsibilities than you could count your sister being one of them

⌗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , alicent hightower x male! targaryen! reader x rhaenyra targaryen

⌗ 𝐬𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 , omg so I didn't know if this anon wanted the request to be fem! reader or male! but I made it male cuz well...I can? also this part is sorta just the set up for part 2 so sorry if it's a bit boring

house of the dragon masterlist , next part

⌗ you were the first born son of viserys targaryen and aemma arryn. so naturally you were expected to be the perfect heir to the iron throne. as was expected of you. and you performed that duty to perfection. as a protege in art of the sword an avid seeker of knowledge and an understudy to your father the king. and not to metion well mannered and respectful man in the making. it was no wonder you sister looked up to you so much.

⌗ since the day rhaenyra was born she was drawn to you. perfering to be in your presence more than any other. the only once who could even come close to rivaling the love your sister had for you was your mother. she followed you everywhere like a duckling trailing it's mother.

⌗ your younger sister wanted to do everything with you. from watching you train to going on dragon rides together. and would throw fits when you would try to venture off on your own. which most people chalked down to her naturally childish nature. but if they delved deeper than the surface they would see it for what it really was. possessiveness.

⌗ though you didn't mind. as you did truly love your sister. and she had soon made a friend with the lord hands daughter. the lady alicent hightower. and it seemed her possessiveness had faded. as she spent more and more time with the Hightower girl and less with you. or so you thought.

⌗ as you grew older you were exposed to more and more of the world. no longer were you seen as a child but as a man grown. and with your day's being filled with the teachings of being of how to be a man and one day a king. your uncle prince daemon took it upon himself to teach you the art of bodily pleasure. by taking you to a whore house.

⌗ he paying for the finest whores and wine. claiming his favorite nephew deserved nothing but the best. as the two of you spent hours within the belly of the brothel until you were both spent of seed and drunk. but while the two of them enjoyed a night of endulace. they were blissfully unaware of the storm that was brewing within the castle. and that storms name was rhaenyra.

⌗ see when had rhaenyra caught word that prince daemon had taken her beloved older brother to a brothel she was incensed. how dare her uncle take her dear older brother into such a filthy place. and allow all of those vile whores to touch what would eventually be her's.

⌗ if you had wanted to learn about pleasure why didn't you come to her? as she had ingrained into her head that you would one day marry in the tradition of old valyria. so when you returned disheveled and hung over. she confronted you. screaming at you with tears streaming down her face. to be honest you didn't understand a word the was coming out of her mouth. as you lay splayed on you bed. but then out of no where she kissed you.

⌗ it was rough and passionate. and for some reason you kissed back. as rhaenyra straddled the two of you proceeded to kiss for what felt like hours. nothing more. you wouldn't allow it to get that far. and while it angered your sister that you couldn't go any further than kissing. she settled for kisses. for now. and so began the secret kisses.

⌗ it became like a game to the two of you. to see how many times the two of you could kiss in a day without being caught. though it was mostly rhaenyra who initiated it. you went along with it to keep her from throwing a tantrum. and at one point you were convinced the two of you had locked lips in every corner of the castle.

⌗ and everything was good. until it wasn't. your mother was dead. and here you stood staring at the funeral pyre of your mother and brother. with bloodshot eyes and a heart heavy with grief. you stood with your uncle and sister. as the two provided you comfort. but you refused to accept it. not daemon's comforting words nor rhaenyra's attempt to hold your hand. your mother was dead and nothing would make you feel better.

⌗ looking to your dragon ivax. a beautiful creature with scales as white as snow and eyes as red as blood. the dragon you raised from a hatchling who had now become the largest dragon in the seven kingdoms's. even larger than vaghar. he was your other half. and there he stood waiting for the command. and with a heavy heart you said it "dracarys".

⌗ and you stood there for what felt like forever. watching the burning pile that used to be your mother. the guests had long left and you were all the remains. or so you thought. as you felt someone stand next to you. you thought it was rhaenyra. but when you turned your head. you were surprised to be greeted with the sight of alicent hightower.

⌗ no words were spoken between the two of you. but there was an air of understanding. and as the pair stood in silence. both of their chests couldn't help but bloom with unfamiliar feelings. but little did they know they were being watched by a pair of jealous purple eyes.

@harjasblog , Hi I got a request for rhaenyra and reader. So basically like rhaenyra and the reader used to be dating and for some reasons reader gets married to Alicent and they have their children. Rhaenyra finds out about this and becomes jealous . So she makes a plan to get the reader back, so she attempts to seduces the reader but the reader stays loyal and tells Alicent everything. The. Alicent and Rhaenyra have big problems and then the eye for an eye thing happens and the reader tell rhaenyra that they hate her and rhaenyra goes mad and delusion. So she attempts to take the throne to get the reader back and that what causes the divide of the house.

[jaehaeryshater]

“Near the end, [King Jaehaerys] grew certain [Alicent] was his daughter Saera, returned to him from beyond the narrow sea.”

artist: @riotarttherite

I had the great pleasure of commissioning, in my opinion, one of ASOIAF fandom’s greatest artists on this gorgeous piece. I had never commissioned any artwork before and didn’t know what to expect, and this far exceeded my expectations. The attention to detail is beautiful and the overall piece conveys exactly what I was envisioning in my head, so I wanted to start off with a big thank you.

The idea for this art piece was originally a “what if” or AU where Saera either didn’t get caught at the brothel or was brought back from the Silent Sisters as was allegedly Jaehaerys’s plan (or if she had bonded with Balerion and gotten to stay! Would have loved that for her) so she stays in King’s Landing and becomes his caretaker in his old age instead of Alicent Hightower. As his daughter, she would have significantly more influence in being able to “speak for him” instead of a caretaker for another House, so although I do not take Saera as someone particularly obsessed with power, I do find it very interesting to imagine her deciding to cause chaos as the Old King’s mouthpiece. The streets of King’s Landing are burning as we speak! Even before Jaehaerys seemed to succumb to dementia, Saera did appear to have a strange influence over him, so once Alysanne passed away, it only makes sense that Saera would become the person in his ear. Not all that great for the smallfolk or even Lords of the realm, but great for drama and storylines. And Saera, of course! I’m sure she would have paraded everywhere, weighed down by jewelry and the finest wines. Perhaps she would have had a full menagerie, as she appeared to love animals. Definitely an elephant there somewhere.

As this piece was being worked on, however, I did think of a second meaning to the art that I also think is really neat. You could also view this as what Jaehaerys is seeing as Alicent is caring for him. He did believe her to be Saera in the end, as his mind was being lost. His Saera had come back to him, and although I do not like Jaehaerys and think he probably deserved worse, he most likely died happy at that thought, believing Saera was reading to him. So if you prefer to interpret this as viewing things through Jaehaerys’s mind, I welcome you because I love it at least equally to the first idea.

Lastly, the detailings are beautiful so I wanted to touch on them and give them the attention they deserve for the moment. I asked Riot to have a caring but sinister vibe, that she is caring for him for a plethora of reasons but certainly that includes self-serving reasons. I believe this was captured really well! I wanted it to be illustrated that Jaehaerys had lost his wits a while beforehand, so he has a vacant look, and Saera has the keys, showing that she is the real power behind the Crown. She has several expensive jewelry pieces (she has many from her lovers, but she doesn’t bother with them, leaving them to collect dust, only thinking gifts from the King are worthy to wear), but my favorite was one I specifically requested. Her jeweled bodice, which contains replicas of the King’s jewels that are present on his crown. Dare I say, she had her mother’s crown repurposed for herself? The intention is clear, Saera is effectively the Queen now, not in name, but Queen nonetheless. As for the general fashion, I told Riot that my favorite era of fashion was the Tudor era, more broadly 1300s- 1550s. As you can see, this was more than delivered and extremely beautifully inspired by historical fashion. GRRM doesn’t always describe his character’s outfits, and the GOT and HOTD outfits were often lackluster. This was exactly the type of beauty I was looking for. The dragon embroidery on Saera’s sleeves? Mwah!

Anyway, thank you so much for geeking out with me! The Saera/Jaehaerys dynamic is one of the most interesting dynamics to me. There’s simultaneously so little and so much there. It’s complex and layered, I can’t stop thinking about it. If you have been on my tiktok, you may have heard about my extensive theory regarding that dynamic, iykyk. If you ever want to talk about them, absolutely feel free to inbox me. More commission ideas coming this year definitely, at least a couple more of this dynamic, but I don’t know how a piece could be any more perfect <3

[elenamegan14]

One Piece Imagine: F!Reader giving a Victory Smooch to Monster Trio

Luffy

Luffy did not see himself as a hero. He is a pirate, and he never shares especially food. But boy, the rage he felt when he saw that terrible Marine captain stole the food that you have painstakingly tried to keep - nobody has the right to starve anyone on HIS watch!

So you truly fall for him when he and his crew return with a wagon of fruits, veggies, all the finest delicacies he can offer... and a very beaten up corrupt Marine captain on his feet. The villagers were more than grateful to be freed from that jerk, especially you.

After giving that Marine a well-deserved kick on the nuts before handing him to the ACTUAL authority, you came up to Luffy with a plate of his favorite meat on the bones and told him that he deserved a reward for helping her. He gratefully accepts it... but not before you gave him a gentle peck on his cheek, "My hero." Luffy is annoyed that you are interrupting his meal. Also, he is not a hero, damn it! But he is still grateful for the reward. Meanwhile, Sanji is fuming about the background of why Luffy always gets the good part of the reward.

"Shishishishi! You're welcome! But I want more meat instead of kisses!"

Zoro

You're gonna need a lot of cold showers when Zoro saves you. because the way he saves you is actually hoooooot.

Oceans in Grand Line are stupidly dangerous. Freaky weather and monsters will always come when you least expect it. So it really kind of surprised you when the crew got ambushed by a giant Sea King.

A very vicious, pissed-off Sea King.

Its battle with it can be described as near-death and brutal. The crew had a lot of close calls, but it was when its jaws almost closed on you that Zoro got to work.

A couple of swishes from his blade, followed by an intense "ONI GIRI!" battle cry had turned that Sea King into a seafood fillet fit to feed as Luffy's dinner. It was vicious, it was professional. IT WAS HOT.

When Zoro came to check on you, you had to fan yourself really hard because, WOW. How does that muscle of his work again? And how hard his teeth are? Zoro did not have time to react before your lips descended on him, catcalls and cheers from the crew (and a furious rant from Sanji) accompanied the scene. "My hero~" you purred.

The normally serious Zoro became incredibly flustered, annoyed, and sorta impressed by your reward. He never expected this turn of events, promising you that he will need more than that in the bedroom.

"Oi, OI! Really? Ah, damn it. All in a day's work I guess. Seriously, what was that?"

Sanji

The day you're engaged to the most violent and sexist man is the day Sanji saved you. Your noble parents sold you off to the most notoriously rich man, who is known for his brutish "manly" treatment of women. To them, it was discipline. But to you and the other poor women, he is hell.

Enter Sanji. He has been on the island for a few days and he already heard plenty of horror stories about the future groom of yours. So he did what a pirate should do - crash into the party with the crew and humiliate your father and groom with the knowledge of wine and food.

Your ex-fiancee's luck ran out when he slapped you halfway across the room when you tried to stop him from jeopardizing the guests' safety. Gone is the suave Sanji - he only sees a man who DARES to hurt a lady and brags about it - oh, he won't get away with it. One Diable Jambe Concasse later, Sanji left the terrified household and one horribly hurt and unconscious ex-fiancee, carrying you in his arms.

When you're already in a safe space, Sanji asks if you're okay... only to be met with a barrage of kisses on his face and a large one of his lips. Never had you felt so grateful, so much in love with Sanji. "My hero! Thank you so, SO, much!"

There was a happy, sheepish grin, lots of "mellorine!" and blood spurts from the nose before Sanji replied joyfully, "You're welcome, milady!" And then he would ask if there is more to come from your reward.

He nearly went to heaven when you slyly said yes.

"HA! You see that?! I am a hero! Yes, I am! Mr. Prince is here to save the ladies's day from danger! Ahaha! I am always here to serve you any time, Y/N-chwaaan!"

Please reply if you want to suggest more scenarios like this with other characters!

[haunted-headset-alt]

romantic hcs with s/o lucifer ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡

summary: the title lol

warnings: swearing, light angst, mentions of alcohol, tooth-rotting fluff

a/n: ik this wasn't requested, but I'm upset w/ myself due to the lack of Lucifer content on my blog!

tags: (as always, just tagging a few people i think would be interested in this, please let me know if you would like to be on or off of the taglist!) @o-kye @zuuriell @strangleetomz @xxtalulahlovesyouxx@ax-y10 @stars-around-scars-collective@blu3-lemonad3@myheartticks@mochamuff1n@unbeleevable@danvstheworld @radio-to-trenchcoat-demons @average-vibe @back-totheoldhouse

dates w/ lucifer ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡

dates with this man are THE BESTTTT

you think of somewhere, he'll take you. the aquarium? done. clothes shopping? of course. fanciest restaurant in town? you don't need to ask, he's already booked a reservation for 6:30.

he's OBSESSED with spoiling you in general, and this gets bumped up x10 on dates

you ask for wine or champagne at dinner? he's ordering the finest, most expensive bottle for his love. don't like what they have? he's bringing his own just for you.

^^ "No, no, sweetheart, I insist. My darling deserves to indulge in the finest!"

he doesn't mind you asking for more simple dates without all of the spoiling, though. he'd plead for a bit to spoil you juuuust a little though!

he's bought LOADS of fancy clothes for you to wear on dates, and sometimes he'll match with you! he wants everyone to know that the king of Hell's partner is living in luxury.

domestic life w/ lucifer ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡

he's big on cuddles. cuddles when you wake up, cuddles when you eat or cook, cuddles while watching something, cuddles while getting ready for bed, cuddles while sleeping, etc.

my personal headcanon is that Lucifer knows how to bake super well (he can make the best sweet treats and pastries), but he's terrible at cooking actual meals (COOKING AND BAKING ARE TWO SEPARATE THINGS AND I WILL DIE ON THAT HILL), so you usually end up doing most of the cooking for the two of you. still, he'll help as much as he can!

going back to the baking thing, he loves baking dates with you! wrapping his arms around your waist while you try to figure out his recipe for mini apple pies with ducks on them (he'll step in to help you), teasingly throwing flour at you (which turns into a flour fight), letting you lick the batter off of the spoon, etc.

he really likes learning about and watching the films and shows you like from your era. since he's been in Hell all of his life, he doesn't know everything about the human realm, so you talking about your favorite things from the era you were alive in is a joy for him!

you living with him motivates him to do his chores around the house. talking about your days while doing the laundry, humming along to music while washing dishes, laughing with each other while cleaning. he lives for it.

how you two started dating ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡

you heard about Charlie Morningstar's plan through a friend who was talking about how odd it sounded, and you thought you'd pay a visit. you didn't think it was odd at all! if your help wasn't needed/wanted, it might be nice to stay.

turns out, Charlie loved having you help out, and so did everyone else! you pointed out how there wasn't a receptionist or front desk person and offered to take up the job, which Charlie happily let you do.

when Lucifer came to visit for the first time, it truly was love at first sight. something just...clicked.

he kept asking Charlie about who you were, what your name was, etc., until Charlie told him to just go talk to you!

the first 'hello's were a bit awkward, but you two quickly became friends! it went from him not being brave enough to even look you in the eye to him following you around the hotel, laughing while listening to the stories you told him about the hotel.

he started visiting a lot after that, which led to him asking you to be his one and only on Valentine's Day!

he was a little insecure and nervous about dating because of Lilith, and it bothered you for a while that he still wasn't able to take his ring off, but after some arguments and long talking sessions, you two worked everything out :)

[atlasthegreatest]

A Nigth to Remember / Sam Carpenter x Precott! Male Reader

Sam Carpenter finally stops being the caretaker and starts being taken care of by Y/n Prescott— the man who makes her feel more carefree and happy. Meanwhile, Tara feels a surge of jealousy for not being the center of her sister’s attention.

Word count:

A/n: Jealous Tara. Slight make-out scene. Fluff and more fluff. And a slight participation of “A Night Out” reader.

A/n: This was requested by an anon. Enjoy it!

Sam Carpenter sat in front of her mirror, smoothing down her hair and nervously checking her reflection for the hundredth time. Tonight was special. She hadn’t been on a real date in a while—especially not one planned by Y/n—Sidney Prescott’s oldest son— who had stolen her breath the moment they met. Tonight, she was stepping into something new, something exciting, and she couldn’t help but feel both giddy and anxious.

Just as she stood up to leave her room, Tara appeared at the door, arms crossed, an exaggerated frown on her face.

“Going somewhere, Miss Carpenter?” Tara teased, though there was an undeniable edge of envy in her voice.

Sam rolled her eyes, adjusting the strap of her dress. “Yes, Tara, I have a date.”

“Oh, I know,” Tara grumbled, her arms tightening around her body. “It’s just… why do you get to go out with him? You’ve been talking about him all week. It’s disgusting.”

A laugh escaped Sam as she grabbed her purse. “Tara, don’t be jealous. It’s just one date.”

Tara’s boyfriend, who had been lounging on the couch in the living room, overheard the conversation and chimed in. “Aww, Tara, are you jealous that your sister’s going out with someone else? You’ve got me,” he joked, a playful smirk on his face.

Tara shot him a look. “Shut up,” she muttered, but her boyfriend only laughed harder.

Sam gave them both a parting wave and made her way downstairs, where Y/n was waiting. He stood by his car, dressed in a sharp black suit, holding a bouquet that took Sam completely by surprise.

“Wow,” she said, feeling her heart race. “You really went all out.”

Y/n smiled that easy, confident smile of his. “Only the best for you, Sam.”

As the evening unfolded, it became clear that Y/n wasn’t holding back. They dined at one of the city’s finest restaurants, a candlelit table in the corner offering a cozy atmosphere as soft music played in the background. The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, laughter breaking out over shared stories and memories.

Y/n made sure Sam never had to lift a finger—he poured her wine, ordered for her, and even pulled out her chair like a true gentleman. By the time they finished dessert, Sam was feeling thoroughly spoiled and more relaxed than she had in a long time.

After dinner, Y/n took her on a moonlit walk by the river, the cool night air swirling around them. He bought her ice cream, even though they were both too full, just because Sam mentioned offhand how much she loved it.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” Sam said as they sat on a bench overlooking the water. She was touched by how thoughtful he had been throughout the night.

Y/n shrugged, his smile soft. “I wanted to. You deserve to be treated like this.”

For a moment, Sam couldn’t find the words to respond. Instead, she leaned against him, letting the warmth of his presence chase away the chill of the night.

Meanwhile, back at home, Tara sat on the couch, her arms still crossed in a defensive posture. Her boyfriend sat next to her, still grinning.

“You know, you really are jealous,” he teased, nudging her lightly. “It’s kinda cute.”

“I am not jealous,” Tara shot back, though the blush rising in her cheeks betrayed her. “I just… It’s weird seeing Sam like that, okay? She’s my big sister. She’s supposed to be tough, not all… soft and dreamy-eyed.”

Her boyfriend chuckled, throwing an arm around her. “Maybe you’re just used to being the center of attention, huh?”

Tara’s eyes narrowed at him, but she couldn’t hold back a small smile. “Don’t push it.”

He squeezed her shoulder and pressed a playful kiss to her temple. “Come on, Tara, admit it—you miss her.”

Tara sighed, leaning back into the couch. “Okay, fine. Maybe a little. But still… it’s weird.”

“Relax, she’ll be back soon, and you can interrogate her all about her fancy date. I’m sure you’ll get all the details,” her boyfriend teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Tara rolled her eyes but secretly she couldn’t wait to hear everything. Maybe she was a little jealous, but more than anything, she wanted to know that Sam was happy—and by the looks of it, she was.

————————-

Later that night, when Sam returned home, her cheeks were still flushed from the evening’s excitement. As soon as she stepped inside, Tara was right there, practically jumping up from the couch.

“Well? How was it?” Tara demanded, her arms now unfolding as she gave her sister an expectant look.

Sam grinned, eyes twinkling. “It was… amazing.”

Tara crossed her arms again, her lips pressed into a pout. “Ugh, you’re unbearable.”

Sam laughed and reached out to ruffle Tara’s hair. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that.”

As Tara sulked, her boyfriend nudged her again, grinning. “Told you she’d love it.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

But even as she pretended to be annoyed, Sam could see the small smile pulling at the corners of Tara’s lips. Beneath the teasing and the jealousy, she knew Tara was happy for her.

And that made the night even more perfect.

Sam couldn’t help but laugh at Tara’s obvious attempt to hide her curiosity. Tara’s faux annoyance melted into genuine interest, and Sam could feel her sister’s attention locked on her. It was something Sam loved about her—no matter how much she acted jealous, Tara always cared deeply.

“Alright, fine, I’ll give you details,” Sam said, sitting down beside Tara. “But you have to promise not to make a big deal out of it.”

Tara’s eyes lit up as she scooted closer. “No promises, but spill!”

Sam recounted the evening—about how Y/n had taken her to a beautiful restaurant, how he had been attentive and charming the entire time, and how the night had ended with a walk by the river. Tara hung onto every word, occasionally interrupting with a “Wait, he did that?” or “You’re seriously telling me he got you ice cream after dinner?”

When Sam mentioned how Y/n pulled out her chair, Tara made a face. “Okay, now I’m really jealous. I have to fight for attention and here you are getting treated like a princess.”

Her boyfriend, who had been listening with amusement, chimed in again. “Come on, Tara, don’t act like I haven’t taken you out. Remember last week when we—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tara interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But he didn’t get me flowers and ice cream. That’s a whole other level.”

Sam shook her head, laughing at their banter. It was always like this—Tara’s teasing was a shield for the way she felt, but underneath it all was the warmth of sisterhood that they both cherished.

“So… what’s the deal with him?” Tara asked, her voice softening as she leaned in, genuinely curious now. “Is it serious?”

Sam felt a flutter in her stomach, unsure how to answer. She had felt a connection with Y/n, no doubt about that, but it was still so new. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “I think I like him, but… you know how things are. Life’s complicated.”

Tara frowned slightly. “Yeah, I get it. But Sam, you deserve to be happy. Don’t overthink it.”

Her boyfriend chimed in with a chuckle, “Says the queen of overthinking.”

Tara shot him a glare. “Don’t start.”

Sam smiled, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. It was nice to have Tara’s support, even when it came with a side of good-natured jealousy. She leaned back on the couch, letting the warmth of the room and the company of her loved ones wrap around her like a blanket.

But Tara wasn’t done yet.

“So, what about me? Do I get to meet him or what? I need to see if he passes the test.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “The test?”

“Duh! I have to make sure he’s good enough for you. And don’t think I’ll go easy on him just because he’s Sidney Prescott’s son.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Her boyfriend leaned in, nudging Tara again. “You’re just mad because you wanted to be spoiled like that.”

Tara sighed dramatically, throwing her arms up. “Maybe! I want the fancy dinner and the ice cream, okay? Is that so wrong?”

Sam and Tara’s boyfriend both laughed, but Sam could see the sincerity in her sister’s eyes. Tara’s protectiveness wasn’t just about jealousy; it was about making sure Sam was taken care of. It was something that had always been mutual between them. Tara might tease, but Sam knew she’d be the first one in line to defend her.

“Fine,” Sam said with a playful sigh. “You can meet him. But you better behave.”

Tara grinned triumphantly. “Oh, I’ll behave. Just enough to scare him.”

Her boyfriend raised an eyebrow. “Scare him? You? Nah, I think he’ll be more worried about you stealing Sam’s spotlight.”

Tara smirked. “He should be. I’m a force to be reckoned with.”

Sam shook her head, chuckling. “I don’t know how he’s going to handle both of us.”

As the night wore on, the three of them continued to talk and joke, with Tara stealing glances at Sam as if she were trying to unravel the mystery of her sister’s new romance. Beneath the teasing and the banter, there was something deeper—a sense that Sam was finally opening a new chapter in her life, and Tara, despite her jealousy, was right there beside her, ready to cheer her on.

Before long, the living room quieted, and Tara’s boyfriend stretched his arms, stifling a yawn. “Alright, I think it’s time to call it a night. Besides, Sam’s got more dates to plan with Mr. Perfect.”

Tara groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. Now I’m going to have to hear about this all week.”

Sam grinned, leaning over to give her sister a quick hug. “You’ll live, Tara.”

Tara hugged her back, albeit begrudgingly. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t forget about me when you’re off being pampered by your prince charming.”

“I could never forget you,” Sam said softly, squeezing Tara’s shoulder.

Tara smiled, her jealousy melting into genuine affection. As Sam stood to head to bed, she heard Tara whisper to her boyfriend, “I hope he treats her right. She deserves it.”

And in that moment, Sam knew—no matter what happened with Y/n, no matter where her life took her—she would always have Tara by her side, teasing, protecting, and loving her in her unique way.

————————

Tara paced back and forth in the living room, her fingers drumming against her sides. Tonight was the night she was finally meeting Y/n Prescott, the guy who had completely swept Sam off her feet. And even though Sam had been gushing about how sweet and caring he was, Tara wasn’t sold yet.

Her boyfriend, lounging casually on the couch, watched her with amusement. “You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that.”

Tara shot him a glare. “I’m not pacing. I’m… preparing.”

He snorted. “Right. Preparing to grill this guy like he’s applying for a job.”

“Damn right,” Tara said, crossing her arms. “Nobody gets to just waltz in and date Sam without passing my test.”

Her boyfriend chuckled, clearly enjoying her protective big-sister act. “You do realize Sam’s a grown woman, right? She can handle herself.”

“I know that,” Tara said defensively. “But someone’s gotta make sure he’s not just all charm and no substance.”

At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and Tara’s stomach flipped. She glanced at her boyfriend, who gave her a mischievous grin. “Moment of truth.”

Tara inhaled deeply and marched to the door, pulling it open to reveal Y/n standing there. He was tall— very tall, well-dressed, and handsome in a polished, put-together way. He held a bouquet of fresh flowers in one hand, and his other was casually interlocked with Sam’s. Tara’s eyes narrowed as she took in the sight—this was the guy who had Sam all googly-eyed?

Beside Y/n, Sam was practically glowing. Her smile was wide, her eyes sparkling as she stood next to him.

“Hey,” Sam said, a bit too cheerfully. “Y/n, this is my sister, Tara. And that,” she nodded toward the living room, “is her boyfriend.”

Y/n extended a hand to Tara first, his smile polite and calm. “It’s nice to meet you, Tara. Sam talks about you all the time.”

Tara squinted at him, sizing him up as she took his hand. “Yeah, I’ve heard about you, too. You’ve set some high expectations, you know.”

Y/n chuckled lightly. “I hope I can live up to them.”

Tara raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. Instead, she stepped aside, letting Y/n and Sam come in. Her boyfriend stood up, offering Y/n a nod and a casual handshake. “Nice to meet you, man. Good luck—you’ll need it,” he joked.

Y/n laughed, clearly understanding the lighthearted warning but not intimidated by it. “I’ll take that as a challenge.”

As they moved into the living room, Tara watched carefully. Her eyes flicked between Sam and Y/n, looking for any sign that this guy wasn’t as perfect as Sam had been making him out to be. She couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that it was all too good to be true.

Sam settled onto the couch next to Y/n, and immediately, Y/n’s hand found hers again, lacing their fingers together. It was a small, almost unconscious gesture, but Tara noticed the way Sam’s face softened. Y/n didn’t say much, but the way he looked at Sam—the quiet adoration in his eyes—made Tara pause. There was no pretense, no show. He genuinely cared for her.

Still, Tara wasn’t going to let her guard down just yet.

“So, Y/n,” Tara started, leaning forward a bit, “what exactly are your intentions with my sister?”

Sam groaned, shooting Tara a glare. “Tara, seriously?”

But Y/n just smiled. “My intentions?” He glanced at Sam before turning his attention back to Tara, his expression sincere. “I like Sam—a lot. I care about her, and I just want to make her happy. That’s all.”

Tara’s eyes narrowed again, but she couldn’t find anything in his words to pick apart. He was too calm, too composed.

As the conversation flowed, Y/n continued to be attentive to Sam in the smallest, most genuine ways. He listened when she spoke, leaning in slightly as if hanging on every word. When Sam laughed, he’d smile softly, clearly enjoying just seeing her happy. And when Sam shifted on the couch, Y/n instinctively reached for her hand again, pulling it into his lap as though it was second nature.

At one point, when Sam mentioned being cold,Y/n didn’t hesitate—he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders without a word. The simple, thoughtful gesture caught Tara off guard. Sam smiled, her cheeks tinged pink as she snuggled into the jacket, glancing at Y/n with that same dreamy look Tara had teased her about.

Tara’s boyfriend, watching the scene unfold, leaned toward her and whispered, “Come on, Tara, admit it. He’s a good guy.”

Tara huffed, not ready to give in just yet. “Maybe. I’m still watching.”

Her boyfriend chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

For the rest of the evening, Y/n continued to win over Tara’s boyfriend with easy conversation, discussing movies and music, while Sam remained comfortably tucked beside him, a soft smile on her face. And as much as Tara hated to admit it, she couldn’t find a single reason to dislike him. He wasn’t just some charming smooth-talker. He was thoughtful, caring, and—most annoyingly—genuine.

By the time Y/n stood to leave, Tara had begrudgingly decided that maybe—maybe—he wasn’t so bad.

“Well,” Tara said, crossing her arms as she walked them to the door, “you’re not terrible.”

Y/n chuckled, taking it as the highest form of praise. “I’ll take that.”

Sam rolled her eyes at Tara, but there was an underlying gratitude in her expression. Tara might not have said it outright, but Sam could tell that her little sister had warmed up to Y/n, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

As Y/n opened the door to step out, he turned back to Sam, his hand reaching for hers once again. He pulled her in for a gentle, affectionate kiss on the forehead, making Sam’s heart flutter visibly in front of them.

Tara watched the whole thing, feeling a strange mix of emotions. On one hand, she was used to being Sam’s protector, used to being the one to keep an eye out for her. But seeing someone else care for her so deeply—seeing Sam genuinely happy—was something she couldn’t ignore.

After Y/n and Sam said their goodbyes, Tara stood at the door, arms still crossed, watching them walk off into the night. Her boyfriend came up beside her, nudging her lightly.

“So,” he said with a smirk, “still jealous?”

Tara sighed dramatically but smiled. “Fine. He’s okay. But if he breaks her heart, I’m breaking his face.”

Her boyfriend laughed, wrapping an arm around her. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

As they stood there, Tara felt a sense of peace wash over her. Maybe, just maybe, Sam had finally found someone who would treat her the way she deserved. Tara still wasn’t going to make it easy for Y/n, but for the first time, she could relax a little. Her sister was in good hands.

Bonus chapter:

It had been a long day and Tara was in no mood for anything but lounging on the couch and watching something mind-numbing on TV. Her boyfriend was on his way with snacks, and she was looking forward to unwinding. She had just slipped into her sweats when she noticed something odd— Sam's door was closed.

Normally, that wouldn't be a big deal, but Sam had mentioned that she'd be out for most of the day. Plus, she hadn't heard the front door open, so when did Sam come home? And more importantly, why was the door closed? Suspicious, Tara moved down the hallway, her eyes narrowing as she approached.

Maybe Sam was just resting or getting ready for a night out with Y/n. But something felt off. Tara paused, her ear pressed against the door. She couldn't hear much, just muffled voices. A normal person might have left it alone, but Tara was anything but normal when it came to protect her sister. She knocked, lightly at first.

"Sam?" she called out, her voice curious but casual.

There as no immediate answer. Instead, she heard a quick shuffle, followed by hushed voices. Tara's suspicion greww, her patience wearing thin.

"Sam, what are you doing in there?"

Still no response. Okay, something was definitely up.

Without thinking, Tara pushed the door open. And what she saw next was not what she had been expecting.

There, in the dimly lit room, she found Sam and Y/n-- Sam pressed up against the wall, her arms wrapped around his neck, and Y/n leaning into her, his hands firmly on her waist. They were kissing, deeply, passionately, and entirely unaware of Tara's presence.

Tara froze, her eyes widening, her brain struggling to catch up to what she was seeing. She was used to seeing Sam as her tough, no-nonsense sister, but this-- this was a side of her she had never expected to witness. And Y/n? Well, he looked way too comfortable with his hands on her sister for her liking.

The shock turned quickly to panic, and Tara let out an awkward, horrified, "OH, MY GOD."

Both Sam and Y/n jerked apart like they had been electrocuted. Sam's face turned beet red, her hair messy from their, well, activities, and Y/n looked like a deer caught in headlights, his hands slowly releasing their grip on Sam as he tried to process what had just happened.

"Tara!" Sam yelped, her voice high-pitched with embarrassment. "W-what the hell?"

Tara's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. She was still standing there, her brain short-circuiting. She had seen her sister and Y/n holding hands and kissing before, but this—this was a whole other level. Her protective instincts flared up, even though she knew logically that Sam as an adult and perfectly capable of making her own choices.

Y/n, meanwhile, awkwardly stepped back, trying to straighten his shirt while offering Tara a sheepish smile. "Uh, hey, Tara."

"Hey, Tara?" she echoed, her voice dripping with disbelief. "Hey, Tara?! What the— what the hell are you two doing?"

Sam groaned, running a hand through her messy hair. "It's not what it looks like."

Tara's eyes widened. "Really? Because it looks like you were—" She gestured wildly between them. "—this close to doing stuff I really, really don't want to think about right now!"

Y/n scratched the back of his neck, looking genuinely mortified. "We weren't...I mean, it's not..."

Tara shot him a glare that could have melted steel. "You shut up. You don't get to speak right now."

Sam's face was still red, but her irritation with Tara was starting to bubble to the surface. "Okay, can you please stop acting like I'm a teenager sneaking around? I'm a grown woman, Tara. And don't talk like that to Y/n."

Tara shook her head, still in disbelief. " Grown woman or not, I didn't need to see that!" She then looked at Y/n with narrowed eyes. "And you—what, you think just because you're all nice and charming, you can just... just—"

Y/n held his hands up in surrender. "Tara, seriously, I didn't mean--"

"Didn't mean what? Make out with my sister against the wall like some... like some teenage boy who can't keep his hands to himself?"

Sam groaned again, this time more in frustration than embarrassment. "Tara, stop! You're being ridiculous. We were just... kissing. It's a normal thing that couples do."

"Normal?!" Tara's voice cracked as she pointed between them again. "That was not just kissing, Sam! That was... I don't even know what was, but I was not ready for it!"

Her boyfriend, having just walked through the front door, came down the hall and appeared behind her, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What did I just walk into?"

Tara spun around, flustered and still trying to process everything. "I walked in on them—" she gestured wildly again toward Sam and Y/n, "—practically attacking each other."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Oh my God, Tara, it wasn't an attack."

Y/n, still looking like he wanted to disappear, shot Tara's boyfriend a pleading look. "This is...very awkward."

Tara's boyfriend snickered, shaking his head. "Man, you've got guts. Making out with Sam while Tara's home? You're braver than I thought."

Tara shot her boyfriend a glare, but he just grinned at her, completely unfazed. "What? I mean, he's got some nerve, I'll give him that."

Tara huffed and crossed her arms, turning her glare back to Y/n. "I can't believe this. I thought you were all nice and gentlemanly. Turns out you're just like the rest of them."

Sam's patience finally snapped. "Okay, enough. I don't need you playing the overprotective sister right now. I'm fine. Y/n's fine. We're both consenting adults. You don't need to freak out every time we're affectionate."

Tara blinked, her mouth opening to argue, but Sam's words stopped her, It wasn't that she didn't trust Y/n—it was just... weird. Seeing her big sister, her tough, guarded, independent sister, in such a vulnerable, intimate moment threw her off. She wasn't used to it, and it made her feel protective in a way that was probably unnecessary.

Tara sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I just... I wasn't ready for this, okay? You're my sister, and I'm still getting used to you having someone like— like him around."

Sam's face softened, her irritation fading. She stepped forward and placed a hand on Tara's arm. "I get it. I felt the same when you started going out with your boyfriend. But I'm happy, Tara. Y/n makes me happy."

Tara looked at Y/n, who was still standing awkwardly in the corner, his face a mixture of embarrassment and concern. Despite everything, she could see it in his eyes-- the care, the respect, and the genuine affection he had for Sam. It wasn't an act. He did love her.

Tara sighed again, her posture relaxing. "Fine. But next time, lock the door, for crying out loud."

Y/n chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Noted."

Sam smiled softly at Tara. "Thanks."

Tara grumbled, not entirely over the shock, but willing to back off-- for now. "Yeah, yeah. Just... be more careful. I don't need to be scarred for life."

“Noted.”

[tobbotobbs]

Think about how spawn Astarion would lead you to a nice pub in the inner city. How he would take your hand and sit down in a quiet but comfortable corner in the pub, asking one of the barkeepers for the finest wine they had. Just the best for his darling love.

For the one that saved him from turning into something just as cruel and bad as his late abuser, Cazador, was.

Saving and staying with him even after he yelled at you for not being on his side with his idea of taking over the ritual.

For staying when he came crawling back and apologizing in a rather pathetic way, for is standards.

He truly was greatful for you. For your trust and believe in him. Even when he most absolutely did not deserve it. Not after nearly killing you on first sight, trying to bite you without asking in the middle of the night or for all the scoffing and screaming he did because something wasn't how he wished it to be going.

He would look into your eyes from where he sat, holding your hand over the table, slowly caressing the top of it with his thumb. When the wine would be served, he would smile slightly at you and take a glass.

He would swirl it around in his hand before taking a quick sniff to see how it smelled and would then hold it softly against your lips. A mischievous glint in his eyes as he watched you blush while slowly gulping the blood red drink down your precious scar littered throat.

Oh how he would swoon over your little puncture scars on your throat. A clear sign of his claim on you. As your partner, your lover, your most trustet one. He would then take the glass away and catch the last droplets with his own lips, putting them on yours and kiss you lovingly.

The night would go as smoothly as the slide of his daggers through your enemies throats, laughter and smiles and good stories for hours before you even think about going home.

Have a little treat darlings, because i just saw i got 100 followers and none of them were fake or bots!

[vinjinssunglasses]

—————————————————————————

character: kim gitae

summary: him in a relationship w u <33

start: 23 aug

end: 25 aug

a/n: we don’t know much ab him yet, so this definitely had me thinking but he is definitely a red flag 🙏

—————————————————————————

✮ Not the type of guy to chase after people, but he was thrown off balance after you left him a bitter taste in his mouth. It stirred a yearning within that was hard to ignore. That’s when he found himself having a tendency to shadow your every move, unable to overcome the need to be near you, even if it meant watching at a distance.

✮ Gitae wouldn’t outright ask for your affection; instead he’d either catch you off guard or simply command you. Softly whispering, ‘Kiss me,’ into your ear as he’d edge his face closer to yours. You respond with a quick peck on the lips, the sudden close proximity and his soft breath against your ear sending shivers down your spine, all getting you flustered. Even after you fulfilled what his request, he’d still give you an intense, expecting look. That’s when it hits you — he’s craving more than just a small peck, he has an appetite for something that’ll leave you both breathless.

✮ Gitae takes you out in the most expensive and extravagant of dates, preferring a candlelit table and a glass of the finest wine. In his mind, a girl like you deserves nothing but the best, so he effortlessly swipes his card on whatever you ask for, ensuring you have whatever your heart desires.

✮ Gitae’s a ruthless guy who’s never shown affection properly, until you came and taught him how be loved properly. He hates how you tug his strings and push his boundaries, yet loves how you gently coax him to confide in you, bit by bit. It’s a long, slow process that’ll make any impatient person want to pull their hair out, but seeing how docile and cute he is in your arms, you remain determined.

✮ His love language is definitely verbal (as well as physical). Words like “I love you” don’t come out of his mouth easily, he only reserves them to the most intimate of moments, which is why he holds it in such high regard. But Gitae’s undeniably weak in the knees for praises like: “you’re perfect”, “I’m so lucky to have you”. These words have their own way of lifting his spirits for the rest of the day, leaving him unusually distracted as he savours their impact.

✮ Gitae struggles with emotional intimacy; telling all his deepest thoughts to another is almost impossible. Yet when you ruffle your fingers through his hair and whisper endearing words in his ear, Gitae finds himself accidentally spilling some of the emotions he’s been desperately bottling up.

✮ Gitae lacks the ability to express himself correctly, when he pushes you away suddenly you don’t even know what to think. What went wrong? You replay the events that took place in your head —second-guessing yourself and this relationship— but nothing adds up. Then, when you awake the next morning after a late night, you notice a handwritten note with a bouquet of flowers resting on your nightstand. A simple gesture like this speaks volumes louder than anyones words could — his way of expressing the words that he can’t verbalise, attempting to make things right again after he realised his own mistake.

✮ He’s terrible at cooking. After the waking up, you stumble to the kitchen, drawn the smell of eggs and bacon — but you can’t help but notice something about the smell seems off.

“Good morning.” Gitae calls out as he flips an egg, yet you just can’t take your eyes off his muscular, scarred body which was unexpectedly softened by your pastel pink apron tied around his waist. At first, you despised that apron for its childish design, but now you can’t help but love it. Putting the pan aside, he dishes the plate in front of you and leans over the counter, proud and eager to hear your thoughts. As you stare at the plate with a forced smile, a mixture of disgust and guilt churning in your stomach. Gitae’s your boyfriend, and the last thing you want is to disappoint him, however you can’t even imagine having that anywhere near your mouth, let alone near you.

✮ He can come off as controlling, especially when the grip on your waist tightens as you talk to another man, masking his sour expression with a strained smile.

ׂ╰┈➤ On that note, he’s easily jealous and possessive, and successfully hides it under his composed exterior. If he feels that another man is flirting with you, he’ll subtly assert dominance to let him now that your his —and only his. He doesn’t share, and he ensures it obvious.

✮ When he gets close to you, he starts to relax and become clingy, a stark contrast to his usual, unapproachable demeanour. He typically dislikes being in such close contact with others, keeping others at an arms length. But when it comes to you, it’s different. He finds warmth in your touch, when you run your fingers through his hair and rub his back. It’s as if his hands have a mind of their own, wandering all over your body as though possessed. He can’t help but let his lips brush against yours, pulling you in closer for a deeper embrace. ׂ╰┈➤ Despite everything, he’s still the same guy. After a night spent cuddling you wake up with an unfamiliar chill in the air, you impulsively reach out for Gitae for warmth — only to find the space beside you is empty..?

What is he even afraid of? is it getting too attached to you? Being to vulnerable around someone? Getting too attached to you? Or having you as his weakness? He disappears for a day or two, but when he returns, you can see the internal struggle written over his face as he eagerly clings to you. The familiar blend of cigarettes, alcohol and men’s cologne, a bittersweet reminder of what it felt like to have his arms around you again. Rightfully, you were angry, distraught and confused, but the relief took over as you cuddle him for what felt like hours.

Having been subjected to a live of crime, money and harsh realities, he’s learned to put walls up around him to learn how to survive in a world of deception and bloodshed. He yearns to let you in, to show you the world he’s confined himself in, yet, the walls only grow thicker and higher than before despite his hardest efforts.

[disasterofastory]

Leather and dust (Thranduil x Reader)

Leather and dust Thranduil x Reader Warnings: smutty

Summary: Thranduil pays you a visit in the library.

The creak of the heavy doors breaks the silence of the library. It's loud and sharp in the silence. A small gasp leaves your lips as you jump because of the sudden sound. The book almost slips out of your hands, and you tighten your hold at the last moment. Your nails dig into the leather cover.

You know he is here. You can feel it. And hear it. His steps are heavy thuds on the ground. Putting the book back in its original place on the shelf, you try to listen to the rhythmic noise to find out where he may be. A frown appears between your brows as you turn your head left and right. His steps echo between the tall walls. One moment, you are sure he is far away, and the next second, your heart jumps to your throat at his closeness.

Where is he?

"What the book did to cause that frown?" Another gasp leaves your lips at his words. Your head snaps up where he stands, and your hand slips away from the book's spine to fall next to your body. Your fingers seek out the soft material of your skirt to grab something. "It did nothing, my King," you reply when you find your voice. Thranduil stands a few meters away from you at the end of the shelf. His hands are behind his back. His posture is straight and confident. His whole presence demands respect and obedience. "Then who earned your sour mood, Y/N?" "Oh, nobody," you croak out, clearing your throat. "I just... I was deep in thought." "Do you want to share them with me?" He asks, stepping closer. "Maybe I can ease your worries." "I have no worries, my King," you tell him, shaking your head. "My thoughts don't even deserve to be mentioned." You are lying. Of course, you do. But how could you share your thoughts with the elven king? How could you tell him that he is the reason for your worries? That you barely can breathe in his presence? And you can't look at him without burning? And the little game he has been playing with you for weeks now drives you desperation and madness at the same time? "It's hard to believe that your thoughts don't deserve mentioning," he argues softly. The corners of his lips jerk upward, but Thranduil doesn't let himself smile even though the amusement is clear on his face. Humor glints in his bright blue eyes. Not knowing what to say, you clear your throat again before speaking. "Can I help you with something, my King?" You ask him, trying to be more professional. "The others told me you want to reorganize the library," he says. "Yes," you nod. "Tightening the relations between Lake-town and the dwarves made a mess here. I thought perhaps..." "Why?" He asks, and the sudden question stops you from speaking. "Why does a mortal woman like you with such a short lifespan waste her time here? With old books and languages?" His question hurts for a moment. The frown is back on your face with a small pout. "I..." The wrinkle between your brows deepens as you try to think of your answer. "Maybe that's why." Turning to the books so you don't have to look at him, you continue. "I don't have hundreds and thousands of years to get to know and experience everything. The books and documents... they help. And..." The air gets stuck in your lungs when you feel him moving behind you. His chest touches your back. His whole presence hovers above you and almost pushes you to your knees. "And?" His warm breath fans over the side of your face. It smells like fruits and a hint of the finest elven wine. "And..." You have to force the words out of your tightened throat. "And their smell. It's parchment, dust, leather, and ink. They are comforting." By the time you finish your sentence, your voice becomes a weak whisper. The tip of his nose brush over the curve where your neck and shoulder meet. Your heart stops beating for a long second, and your thighs clench without your control. "That explains it," he hums against your skin. "Explains what, my King?" You ask back, still frozen in place. "Your scent," he says. "Dust, leather, and ink. It haunts me since you are here. I lay in my bed at night, unable to sleep because of you. I can hear you. I can smell you." "Oh." "Do you know what I do then, Y/N?" He asks. His large hands land on your hips. His hold on you is tight and possessive. You can feel the squeeze of his fingers between your legs even though his touch doesn't move away from your sides. "No," you reply. The word leaves your lips panting. "Then ask me, Y/N." His lips brush over your neck as he speaks. "Ask me what I do when I'm unable to free myself from the thoughts of you." "What do you do, my King?" Your question is shaky and breathless. His chest presses against your back some more. You can feel him pressed against your bottom. "I imagine you," he replies. You can barely feel the kisses he hints on the line of your shoulder as he goes up to your neck, but you still know what he is doing. "I close my eyes and imagine you beneath me. You are bare and flushed in front of me. Your lips are red from my kisses, and your legs are open as you wait for me." You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each word that leaves his lips. One of his hands slips down to your skirt, pulling up the fabric with calmness and patience. "I try to imagine how you taste and how you sound as you scream my name and beg for more." "Thranduil." His name slips off your tongue with desperation. Your eyes fall close, and you have to grab one of the shelves to keep your balance. "I imagine this pussy around my cock instead of my hand." His long fingers find their way under your panties easily. His touch glides over your wetness, gathering your juices until he is soaked in your essence. "Open your mouth," Thranduil orders. His voice is quiet but not less commanding. "And suck." Your own taste spreads across your tongue as he pushes two of his fingers between your lips. "Is it as sweet as I imagined?" He asks but doesn't let your answer. When you open your mouth to speak, he pushes deeper until you gag. Saliva drips down your jaw. "I will taste you tonight," the elven king states. "I will feast on your pussy all night until you are as mad with need as I am." But you already are. The world is dizzy around you, and only Thranduil's arm keeps you on your feet. Your pussy aches and throbs for more.

And everything is over before you know it.

"Come to my room tonight," Thranduil says. You feel cold without his warmth behind you. "I will wait for you."

[yifftwiceplz]

the tall daves are too watery. they don't even stick to the noodle.

feeling something about dave reduction sauce