#he is a goner my lord

[existingingrey]

It's the way "the look in his eyes gradually transformed over time" that has me invested.

[sunnie-angel]

Sweetheart

inspired by @sanguineterrain’s hc about virgin! jason which truly has not left my mind since i read it.

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.6k

tags: kissing, masturbation, loss of virginity, vaginal sex, creampie, overstimulation

Jason Todd’s just so goddamn sensitive, nerves set on a hair trigger, all the time. Call it a side effect of death or a fun little bonus from resurrection. Wherever it came from, it’s just part of his life now. And, see, normally it’s not a problem. In fact, it probably makes him better at this whole crime lord business. The slightest change in the airflow of a room tipping him off to an unseen assailant, the tremors traveling up the balls of his feet signalling an approaching vehicle, palm wrapped around a throat able to read a lie from a racing pulse. He’s adaptable like that, turning something that might have overwhelmed him into a weapon. It’s really not a problem.

Just like it’s not a problem that he’s never really been in love before. Between dying, then not dying, and an abrupt and burgeoning career in crime, well, dating hasn’t been very high on his list of priorities. It’s fine! So maybe he fucks his fist after a long night of patrol and wishes it were someone he was coming home to. He’s got more pressing things to worry about, important things. Red Hood things. His half-hidden fantasies and dog-eared classic romances can stay hidden under his bed forever, for all he cares.

He cares. Did he say he didn’t care? Well obviously that was a big fat lie. Jason nearly mows you down running across the park and the minute his hands close around your arms to steady you, he’s a goner. Heart eyes and tweety birds, the whole nine yards. Being in love with you’s the easiest thing Jason’s ever done. Maybe his hands shake a little more than they should the first time you ask him to dinner. Maybe he blurs the line between creepy and sweet by showing up at your doorstep with flowers less than 12 hours after your first date. He’s just new at this, that’s all. First time jitters.

There’s a lot of firsts, when it comes to you. The first time you hold his hand, he feels the the tips of his ears go hot. You kiss him on the cheek and he could swear NASA can see the colour of his cheeks from space. The very first time he kisses you – goodnight at your doorstep, meant to be chaste and brief – he’s half-hard in his pants the second he feels your breath on his skin. It’s a miracle, a sheer testament to all his will and training, that he doesn’t come in his pants on your doorstep at the taste of you.

Okay, so there’s some kinks he has to work out. He’s told you that he’s inexperienced. Well, more than inexperienced. A virgin, if you want to get all technical about it. You had smiled and told him the two of you could take it slow if he wanted. Which he didn’t. Want it slow, that is. That leads him to a new and persistent obsession with making it good for you, despite his current track record. Before you, the goal of getting off was efficiency. Hand slick and a few harsh tugs enough to have him spilling into a tissue. But that was before. He’s got a goal and a plan and Jason’s always been good with an objective.

He settles in and makes a mental note to get more lube. Gets his hand firm around his shaft because he knows, just knows, that the minute he starts teasing the head of his cock it’ll be over. Gives himself a few looser strokes just to get used to the sensation, gun callous catching on his foreskin and sending a frisson of pleasure up his spine. He watches his stomach muscles ripple and clench in retaliation. Begins to work his hand a little faster, adding a rough twist to each stroke that has him panting for breath. Pre starts beading at the tip of his cock and he swipes an errant thumb at it. He bucks and nearly moans at the sensation, the rough heated pad of his thumb setting his nerves on fire. Throws his head back eyes closed as his he increases the pace, lost to the burning heat building in his belly. He pictures your face smiling up at him on a particularly tight swipe over the head of his cock and comes harder than he ever has before, hot spurts decorating his stomach. His stopwatch reads 0:1:37. With a grunt, he reaches for his cock again.

By the time morning comes, far too soon and far too bright, Jason’s managed to increase his time. Not by much, but hey, that’s still progress in his book. He’s also discovered two new things about himself: 1) with just the right pressure he can stay hard between orgasms (hooray for illegal and mystical stimulant baths!), and 2) the image of you is more than enough to shove him over the edge, every single time. Fact number two may be a problem. ‘Cause if just the thought of you has him creaming in his pants like a pimply teen in a stiff breeze, having you under him in the flesh might actually kill him. It’s okay though, he’ll have more time to practice before you two get anywhere close to that. Or not.

The two of you are lying on your bed kissing, the kind of slow, lazy make-out that wouldn’t really be going anywhere only Jason’s got your thigh rubbing up in between his legs and that same hair trigger sensitivity. He swears he can almost feel the soft heat of your skin through the rough drag of denim. Your plush lips open wider and he surges forward, eager to notch himself closer. He’s clumsy like this, limbs too big and uncoordinated with you under him. His hips start undulating of their own accord at the extra friction, and you slip a hand into the back pocket of his jeans to urge him on. It’s good, so good, God why did he never realize it could be this good? The sensation of you below him, warm and solid, and the rough-pressure-heat on his cock is all it takes. You swallow his moan as he comes in his pants, wet splotch blooming darkly. His hands tighten around you. Jason pants and moans into your throat, hips weakly grinding his cock against you through it. Red-faced, it takes him longer than it should to realize that you’re cooing at him.

“–good, sweetheart? You were so good for me, taking what you needed.”

Shame and embarrassment light him up, battling with the litany of sweetheart, sweetheart, she called me sweetheart currently striking him dumb. He buries his face into your neck, can feel the temperature difference between his flaming cheeks and your skin.

“’M sorry,” he says meekly, “I didn’t mean to come so fast. Swear it. I’ll do better next time.” Worry curls in his stomach, faint echoes of embarrassment about leaving you unsatisfied. Can’t bear to look you in the eye, feeling stripped back and vulnerable as he is. His hips are still working against yours, grinding the sensitive head of his cock into his damp boxers. You laugh.

“What’re you talking about, Jay? You were perfect, so perfect for me sweetheart.” And Jason wants to crawl out of his skin because ‘perfect’ is not a word that gets applied to him often. Not one that he thought applied now, coming in his pants so quickly, before he’s even made you feel good. Ignoring the stubborn prickling at the backs of his eyes and the warmth quickly spreading down his chest, he kisses the sweet column of your throat.

“Wanna return the favour,” he whines, licking up the salt of your skin. Your grip tightens in his hair.

“Yeah? You gonna be good for me again?” you tease, breathless. One of your hands grips his own, glides it down to the elasticized waistband of your underwear.

Jason’s pretty sure he’s been electrified when he feels just how wet you are. He’s also pretty sure this is the closest he’s ever gotten to a pretty girl’s underwear too. Thick fingers glide easily between your folds. You’re hotter than he expected, slick collecting in his palm. His index finger catches on your entrance, thumb hunting for your clit. He knows he’s found it when you sigh into his ear, and he grins. Maybe he’s not so bad at this whole sex thing after all. Slowly, he starts to spear you open on one thick finger and chokes. Jason’s never felt anything so fucking tight. He groans into your collarbone. Your walls tighten up around him at the vibration and it goes straight to his cock. If he hadn’t just come, he’d be making a mess in his pants right now. Again. The thought of how good your slick, wet, heat would feel squeezing around his cock vice-like has him lightheaded.

“Can I– please can I?” he begs, delirious with how badly he wants this.

“Gotta use your words, sweetheart,” you say breathlessly, voice hitching as he fucks his finger back into you. “Need to ask for what you want.”

“Please, please, can I fuck you? Want it. Want it so bad,” Jason whines. He can taste the want, sparks dancing on his tongue, blood rushing in his ears. His whole body aches with it.

“S’all you had to say, sweetheart.” A hand grips him through his damp jeans and he bucks into the touch, a writhing mass of nerves and need. “You gonna take care of me? Huh?” The zipper inches down and he almost sobs. “Gonna be good to me, sweetheart?” All the air rips out of his lungs at the burning brand of a palm finally touching his spent cock. 

Jason doesn’t recognize his own voice, high and reedy, babbling “I promise, I promise, I promise.” He’s gasping, greedy, mouth open and searching blindly for yours. 

He whimpers – the Red Hood honest to god whimpers – when you pull away. His brain starts to come back online when you start tugging at the hem of his shirt and he almost face plants into the mattress in his eagerness to get his pants and shirt off at the same time. You laugh as your bra hits the floor somewhere to the side of the bed and pull him down for another kiss, a soft nip at the swell of his bottom lip that has him trailing after you. Your legs open to cradle his hips and Jason figures this must be the next best thing to paradise. He shudders at the pressure of his cock trapped between your bellies.

“Now you’re gonna give me all–” you give a slow roll of your hips that has Jason’s vision going blurry at the feeling of every inch of him trapped between you, “– of that. You’re gonna be this–” another slow, filthy roll that has him cotton-mouthed, “–deep in me, sweetheart, and you’re gonna keep fucking me until I tell you to stop.” Your hand at the nape of his neck pulls his hair back until he’s looking right in the eye. It’s a hungry, dark stare that greets him and Jason thinks that if this is what it’s like to be eaten alive, he’ll die a happy man (if you’ll let him).

He gets so distracted by the wicked grin on your face that he barely notices the hand guiding his cock to your entrance until the head is pushing into your burning heat. His mouth snaps shut and his jaw clenches, desperate to keep it together. Your legs lock around him, urging him forward. Inch by inch he slowly thrusts his way into you, sanity hanging on by a thread as he fights the urge to just fuck into your tight cunt. Finally, finally, his hips meet yours, cock fully sheathed inside of another person for the first time. He pants open mouthed into the side of your neck, trying so hard to be good for you. 

“Not a virgin now, are you sweetheart?” you whisper, hand stroking through his sweaty curls. “Now move.”

Like a shot from one of his beloved .45s, Jason starts pistoning into you, pulling his cock out until it’s almost slipping out and hammering right back in to the hilt. You’re tight, so fucking tight that he doesn’t know how he’s ever gonna go back to his fist after this. His rhythm’s sloppy, cunt drunk and chasing his next high but he can’t make himself stop. Sweat beads on his chest and tears dot his lashes. He howls as you cant your hips up and drag a hand across his chest, nails catching on a nipple. The slippery clutch of your cunt burns away all his good intentions, just a mewling, writhing creature desperate to feel good. The burning heat in his gut is building, his arms trembling from exertion. Its too soon, too soon for him to be ready to come again but the high in his veins and the tenseness in his belly are screaming otherwise.

It’s not fair, he’s– he’s trying so hard and it’s not fair because you haven’t even come once and here he is being greedy and about to come again. It’s not fair. There’s real tears of frustration beading up in his eyes now, face and body flushed red, sticky sweet.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’msorryI’msorryM’sorry,” he keens, high and hysterical as he comes, hot pulsing spurts deep inside you. He’s not– it’s not stopping God why is it not stopping? He’s never come for this long but it just won’t stop and he can’t move, not with your ankles locked so tight around his hips. Jason’s face burns with the shame, eyes screwed up tight and trying not to tear the sheets fisted in his hands. A hand cups his face, runs a thumb lovingly over a cheekbone until he screws up the courage to crack open his eyes a smidge.

“There’s my sweetheart. Doing so well for me.” A finger brushes away the tear threatening to fall from the corner of his eye. “Felt so good you just couldn’t stop yourself from coming again, hmm?” you clench down on his cock and the punched out sound that leaves him has Jason shying away in embarrassment. “None of that now. Not when you’re being so good.” You bite down on the tendon in his neck, grinning around your teeth as his whole body shudders, before laving a broad tongue over it. “You’ve still gotta job to do, don’t you? Gotta fuck all of your cum into me, gotta keep it where it belongs.”

Jelly limbed, its easy to push Jason onto his back. His cock never even leaves your cunt. Gravity does all the work as you spear yourself open on him. He moans, high punched out little things, cock bullying even deeper into you. Jason’s so sensitive now, riding the edge of pleasure-pain like a knife. He feels flayed open, nerves raw, as you grind and clench yourself up and down his shaft. You pull one of his palms to your breast, teach him how to squeeze it, the way you like having your nipples pinched and rolled. You ride him and every time you pull off of him Jason holds his breath until you’re fucked back down onto him. He’s so overstimulated it hurts, teeth grinding as you continue to fuck him for your pleasure, like he’s just the guy that happens to be attached to a fat dick.

“I didn’t say to stop, did I?”

[minoment]

God sub!Miguel is so 🤭🤭

Like, I’m not a top by any means but he’d look so pretty begging. Wether it’s for me to move or for him to be allowed to move? Good lord…

And to have a hand wrapped around his neck while I’m chasing my own satisfaction? Or just to have some form of restriction on him while he’s begging me to touch him…

-🩵

Ugh yes..

Miguel cries so pretty too, doing his best to hold back the humiliating tears as you bounce up and down on his length. Eventually he can't hold back and the waterworks come, leaving him sobbing and begging for you to let him cum.

Add choking to the mix? He's a goner.. making soft gagging noises as you (safely 😠) squeeze the sides of his neck.

Furthermore, if you mock or tease him while he's like that.. he's nutting.. Hard.

"Look at you crying beneath me while I use you.."

"Such a messy little spider hm?"

"Your cock is such a good toy.. oh.. do you like being my little toy Miguel? Do you get off on me calling you names?"

Say anything along those lines and his back his arching off the sheets as he spills himself inside you with a tear-filled cry.

If he's being a brat, you can tie him up and ride him; dragging orgasm after orgasm out of him while you use him for your own pleasure. Slap him hard across the face when he cums and tell him what a slut he is. He FOLDS..

Pinch and play with his nipples after he comes down from his high, doesn't matter if you've milked him dry, he will whimper and get painfully hard again.

Of course when you're done with him, take care of him. Give him a long bath and lots of kisses. Tell him how much you adore him..

I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT THIS MAN IT'S NOT FUNNY

[solbaby7]

Forbidden Fruit

pairing: cassian x rhysand’s sister!reader

warnings: sneaking around, suggestive language, swearing, possible sexual content either way minors DNI, mutual pining, a simping Cass and a meddling Az

summary: The General Commander of the Night Court finds himself falling for the High Lords precious little sister.

—

Cassian knew better.

He was smarter than this—had better self-control and discipline than hundreds of thousands of men combined but all of that crumbles to ash the second you come prancing past in those tight pants. The same ones that sat low on your hips paired with the skin tight sleeveless top that showed off the wink of your navel and the dangling piercing that resided there. “Your brother know about that?”

“Oh, Commander,” His jaw clenched at the title, the sing-song lilt of your voice and the bedroom eyes that raked down the giant length of his form. Never in his life had he ever felt so anxious under a woman’s gaze and he fights the urge to shift his weight from foot to foot. “You’d be positively baffled by the things my brother doesn’t know about.”

It was a taunt; perfectly manicured nails plucking at a string that was already seconds away from snapping. Even then, Cassian can’t seem to help himself and like a small animal with little sense of self-preservation—he’s caught in your trap. “Like what?” He clears his throat, the words coming out too soft, too desperate and yet he can’t find it in him to be embarrassed when you’re looking at him like that.

Dark lashes frame pretty eyes that trail down the length of his body, a feline smile on full lips. “I really wish I could say, General,” Never had his body reacted to his title in such a way; skin burning like a flame when it came from you, dark hair hanging over your shoulders and he wills his knees not to buckle when you stalk closer. A manicured finger just barely grazes the length of his bicep and he’s already fighting the growing erection beneath his breeches. “But, I just can’t be sure you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

“I won’t say anything.”

You raise a brow, head quirking to the side and you’re unabashedly aware of the fact that this wing of the house was utterly bare save for you and Cass. “I’m throwing a little party tomorrow,” His surprise is evident; as witty and seductive as you may be, it was common knowledge how responsible you were. The pressures of perfection always weighed heavier on a woman and you handled it well. “Come if you’d like but only you.”

“Where?”

There’s a mischievous glint in your eye, fingers toying with the hilt of the sword hung at his hip. “Can’t say—you’ll just have to find me.”

He’s stuck in place when you saunter off, hips swishing from side to side until you disappeared behind closed doors at the end of the hall. Cassian huffed out a shaky breath, a hand raking through slightly overgrown strands as he willed his heart to return to its normal rhythm but he was already a goner. Mind utterly consumed in all things you from the shimmering pin tucked in your hair or the shiny sheen glossing over pouty lips.

For twenty-four hours he’d obsessed over the smell of your soap until his focus was shifted to the breathy little grunts you offer when sparring in the ring the following morning. “You’re getting sloppy.”

“Because,” You huff, breathing labored, sweat dripping down your back and you’d long since tied your hair in a knot at the top of your head. “I’m tired and can’t stop thinking about food.” You get in a few good jabs but the exhaustion sets in much quicker for you than it did the Illyrian soldier.

The idea that sets into his mind is disgraceful; pupils dilating at the very thought and he nearly moans out loud when you bend over to grab your canteen. Stretchy shorts hug tight around the curve of your ass and Cass is already diving head first into filthy fantasies of you bent over just like that with his face shoved between your thighs. It feels so real his mouth actually waters, throat bobbing with a gulp and his hands clench into tight fists.

It's wrong.

He couldn't—shouldn't—be thinking such thoughts but it's like you're doing it on purpose. Body elongated and spine dipping when tugging off the sweat-soaked training top. Only left in a sports bra and the holsters that wrap along your wrist and forearm, holding two swords so sharp you could probably slice his head from his shoulders with the right amount of intent. Yet, for some reason it doesn't deter him; the lethality of you that was always kept contained like some secret weapon just waiting for their moment.

The shirt hits the floor with a wet shlop and before Cassian can form words, Azriel is brushing past him with a knowing glance. "We'll feed you after you fight me," Cassian hates the way his nose scrunches in jealousy, lip twitching to curve into a snarl at the easy banter that arises between the two of you. Azriel stalks you like prey, sharp eyes raking up the length of skin you have bared—even if he does do it significantly more subtle than Cass.

You offer a breathy laugh, throat moving over the large gulps of water before falling into stance. Its casual, body loose from the thorough warm-up and Cass feels his blood rush at the mischievous smirk growing in the corner of your mouth, eyes darting to the shadows beginning to circle you. "Shouldn't take too long," Confidence dripped off your tongue like hot honey. "If you play fair, that is."

Az slowly tilts his head to the side, acutely aware of the rage radiating off his brother from the edge of the ring. It doesn't deter him in the slightest, shoulders rolling and wings tucking in preparation as a breeze shifted through his hair. "What's the fun in that?"

It's annoyingly fluid and Cassian just can't quell the frustration; lips scowled in a sneer the closer you and Azriel got. It should've been him with his hands touching your skin; should be him making you grunt and snap out snarky remarks whenever you'd lost the upper hand. The General's jaw clenches, teeth gritting when Az slams you down on the mat, holding down your arms as you struggle beneath such weight. "That's fine," Azriel jokes, sun beating down on golden skin, shining across amber irises and the brilliance is nearly overwhelming—nearly. "I like 'em squirmy."

It happens so fast that even the shadows don't have time to react when a whip of endless darkness wraps around the spymasters neck and snatches him back. The element of surprise works in your favor, offering enough time to get back on your feet and gain some distance despite the fact that he recovers unnervingly quick, gaze darkening under the challenge. "What? I thought we were having fun, Azzy?" A innocent little pout completely contridicts the growing throb of power that hums off your frame. "Playing around."

The sharp sting of metal unsheathing and the blades attached to your forearms are unfastened, the hilt twisting with practiced ease as you adjusted your grip.

You play the clueless female well—too well.

Maybe that’s why Azriel underestimates the true extent of your focus; too trained on the rapid rising and falling of your chest, the way your left leg trembles slightly with exhaustion and he’s completely blindsided by the way you adjust your magic to him. The deep abyss of darkness that usually comes when calling your power shifts, the shade adapting to that of Azriel’s shadows until there was no way to tell where he started and you ended.

You take the opening, mentally patting yourself on the back for the look of genuine shock that smears its way across Azriel’s face and he’s on the ground in seconds. Your knees dig into the juncture of flesh in his biceps, applying pressure to vital nerves as you hover over his chest. “Alright, alright,” He taps at the mat twice, sweat lacing his brow and fingers going numb. “You win.”

With a deep exhale, you flop to the side and sprawl flat out on the mat, limbs boneless as your head lazily turns to face a brooding Cassian. “Feed me. The Heiress of your Court demands it.” Maybe it was the linger aftershocks of jealousy that leads Cass to saunter over and hoist you over his shoulder. It’s effortless and the surprised yelp that strangled free is slightly more embarrassing that being manhandled. “Cassian,” You grunt, bunching your hands in the durable material of his leathers to brace yourself. “Put me down, right now!”

His amusement rumbles against your belly, one large hand splayed high on the back of your thigh. “I’m only doing as my Heiress asks.”

A flush warms your cheeks, no longer able to blame it on the sun when the cool air of the house shifts over your skin. “Seriously, put me down. You stink.”

“You don’t smell much better but I was practicing self-control and keeping it an inside thought.”

Your hand smacks on his back in retaliation, huffy swears echoing throughout the halls but Cassian continues as if you hadn’t done anything at all. Instead, he plops you into a seat at the dining table and instantly the house predicts your needs, providing a spread of food that has your mouth watering and stomach growling.

Before you can even reach for a plate, Cassian’s already washed his hands and come back to pile a plate full of your favorites, swiftly avoiding foods you didn’t enjoy as much as if it were second nature. A brow quirks playfully, form sinking into your seat comfortably. “You gonna help me shower too?”

“Only if my Heiress demands it.” His lips shift into a smirk so sinful you shift in place, fingers just barely recovering from losing your grip on your silverware.

A scoff hides your inability to form words, fork scraping against the fine china as you fill your mouth with much needed sustenance. Immediately, your shitty mood dissipates, hips wiggling in complete bliss while you indulge in garlicy breadsticks dipped in creamy pasta sauce.

“You’ve been training your powers.” Cassian mentions more so to distract himself from the little moans you let you with each bite. “I’ve never seen you manipulate them like that. Blending into Az’s shadows?”

“A girls gotta do something to fill her time.”

Golden eyes narrow in your direction, scanning the curve of your cheeks and slope of your nose. He lingers entirely too long on your mouth, pasta sauce gathering in the corner and his fingers twitch to reach over and wipe it off. “What else are you hiding under your sleeve?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Something about the way you look at him has Cassian’s skin going hot, the pale violet of your iris turning into nothing but a thin ring as your pupils eat up the free space. “And, I’d hate to have to get rid of my favorite boy.”

“I’m your favorite?”

You’re outright teasing; taunting the brick wall of a man with nothing more than polished silver and the insinuating drag of your tongue against your fork. “You think I give invitations to secret parties to any ol’ body? Please, I have better taste than that.”

It’s instinctual. Driven by nothing more than pure Illyrian pride, his chest subconsciously puffing up with pride under the kiss of your compliment. He’s not brave enough to elaborate on it—too afraid to jumble his words and make a godsdamned fool of himself. “Where is this party anyway?”

Silverware clangs against fine china, a signal that you’ve finished your meal and the house is quick when cleaning up for you, fondly topping up your wine and providing fresh linen to dab around your mouth.

You don’t take it.

Instead, you offer up a crimson red ribbon just barely long enough to fully wrap around Cassian’s wrist. It’s smooth like silk in his grasp, the material coated in your scent and it takes every scrap of decency he has left not to shove it up against his nose. “Follow those. Once you’ve collected the last one, you’ll find me.”

“And then what?”

A sultry smirk curves at your mouth as you rise from your chair. “Then, you can have me.” His mouth goes dry, fists closing over the strip of fabric clutched between his fingers. “Have fun hunting, General.”

[cutielando]

my lifeline | m.r.

synopsis: in which you're his only purpose in life

my masterlist

Mattheo had always had it rough.

Being the son of the Dark Lord brought enough complications to his life, let alone being at school with people who only made fun of him because of that.

It wasn’t fair. Nothing about his life seemed fair, but he had no choice about it. He couldn’t change who he was, no matter how much he wanted to.

But he could change the way he viewed himself.

And he did. 

From the moment you had entered his life.

You transfering to Hogwarts from Beauxbatons had probably been the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Watching you timidly walk towards the Sorting Hat, anxiously waiting for it to speak and tell you which house you would join, seeing the sweet smile you had given the Slytherins once you joined them at their table and just so happened to have been sitting right across from him.

He knew, from the moment you had looked at him with your bright eyes, that he was a goner.

Over the course of your first weeks at the school, Mattheo had been the one to welcome you the best, always offering to show you around the castle, help you study or simply just keep you company while you would do homework together.

Pansy had also become your friend, very eager to have another girl in the friend group.

Pansy was also the first person to find out about your crush on the curly haired bad boy. 

It didn’t come as a surprise, really. With the amount of time you had been spending together ever since you came to the school, the countless walks you had been on with him when the both of you had free time, the charming smiles he would give you whenever he would look at you.

He had you mesmerized and he didn’t even realize.

The holidays had proved to be the perfect opportunity for Mattheo to finally tell you what he was feeling, right before you left for home.

“Y/N!” he had called out for you as you were struggling to carry your luggage down the countless pairs of stairs towards the castle entrance.

You turned around, a smile immediately appearing on your kind face. The kind of smile that made the butterflies in Mattheo’s stomach go crazy.

“Hey, Mattheo. I was just about to leave for the train, I didn’t want to be late” you explained, gesturing towards your trunk.

You didn’t know if you should have said anything else, knowing that his father and him probably didn’t want to have anything to do with each other and he had no reason to want to go home for the holidays.

“I know, and I wanted to catch you just before you left. I wanted to tell you something that I’ve been putting off for the entire semester” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

You nodded, signaling that you were listening. 

He let out a breath before speaking up once again.

“I like you, a lot. Ever since you transferred here, you’ve been on my mind. I’ve come to look forward to every minute that I get to spend with you, regardless of what we do. I just wanted to know if you would like to go on a date with me once you get back?” he asked, making you smile.

All the daydreams about what it would be like to be with him, to know that he was just yours, they were finally going to happen after so much lost time.

“Your timing really sucks” you joked, making him blush and nod. “But my answer is yes” you added before quickly leaning up to kiss his cheek and left.

Unbeknownst to you, the moment you had turned around and couldn’t see him anymore, he fist-bumped the air and did a little happy dance, being sure that nobody would see him and tarnish his bad boy reputation.

Typical.

During the time you spent away, you guys exchanged several letters, in most of them Mattheo was complaining about how slow the time was passing and how eager he was to see you again and take you out.

Which he did, the hour right after you had got back to Hogwarts. 

Your date had been amazing, sipping your favorite warm drinks at the Three Broomsticks, browsing around your favorite shops in Hogsmeade, and then finally ending with a goodnight kiss right at the bottom of the stairs leading to your bedroom.

The news that you had become a couple spread around as quickly as a disease would. Gossip traveled very fast around a school full of teenagers, especially when it involved someone with a reputation like Mattheo.

Being seen together in front of the whole school had been something you were weary of, ever since he had asked you out; mainly because it was no news that your now boyfriend was a very handsome lad, and a good number of the girls from every house had a thing for him.

Imagine now, with him dating you, it had automatically put a big target on your back.

But not to worry, Mattheo was there for you.

“People are staring” you told him on the morning of your first breakfast together as a couple, a day after everyone had got back from holiday.

“So? Let them stare, I don’t care” he said, shrugging his shoulders and pulling you closer to him.

You gulped, noticing more and more girls whispering and looking at you over their shoulders, frantically it was more like glaring deep into your soul.

“Easy for you to say, you don’t have the entire female population of this castle hoping your head would explode so they can take your place” you had meant for it to sound like a joke in order to not worry Mattheo, but he had seen right through it.

Following your gaze, he had noticed just how much attention there was on you that morning. He cleared his throat, glaring at every single girl right back, which then prompted them to blush and turn away from you guys.

“Don’t worry about other people, they know nothing about us and they’re just jealous” he whispered to you, planting a kiss on your temple in comfort.

You knew that he was right, that you just had to drown everyone out and just focus on Mattheo and what you had.

And that was exactly what you did.

Months went by very quickly, making your relationship with Mattheo only blossom more and more with each passing day. The love shared between you was more intense than anything either of you had experienced before.

You two helped each other, motivated and encouraged one another. You helped him deal with his problems, listened to him whenever he needed to unwind and just talk to someone about his home, about what his childhood was like and what being Voldemort’s son had done to him.

You slowly helped him out of his shell, making him open to you more and more each passing day, making sure he was comfortable whenever he was around you and always made sure he was okay, no matter where you were or what the circumstances were.

You became what he needed, his savior. 

A lifeline to pull him back to reality when he would need it the most, whenever he would feel like he was about to fall off the edge.

You were his life.

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[wooziorgans]

Have you ever sit by yourself and thought about being in a dark room with your boyfriend!Jihoon, the corner in which the bed is placed near the window which is transparent showing the downpour outside, him on the bed and you on his lap, cuddling in the chill weather, your head in his shoulder while he is caressing your back, his little signs and whimpers when you kiss his sweet spots, sucks on them being totally drunk on his smell and touch, him looking down his hand reaching to hold your chin and plant a firm peak on your lips, your one hand automatically grabbing his short hair as the kiss deepens while he is slowly leaning forward make you lay on the bed, the thunder strikes making the rain more fast, while you and him were in your own world of love.....

Had this in my head since monsoon started, I love rain romance🤭💗 what about you?

downpour

ohhhhh my god YES. god i feel like hes so fucking clingy and responsive when hes tired, especially if its raining because the atmosphere of the fog outside and the soft thump of it against the window just,,,, ohhh lord.

also i think he whimpers! i think he whimpers and i am willing to fight ppl on this. have u heard his little woozi noises? he definitely whimpers, especially when he’s sensitive and he’s the most sensitive when you’re all up in his shit, kissing and biting at his neck ohhhhh godddd.

i think the space right under his ear is the most sensitive tho. like neck kisses?? great! but if u rlly wanna hear him, kiss right by his ear right next to his jaw and he cannot hold back his little noises.

i love the rain so much and i have a feeling that when he’s not caught in the middle of it, jihoon does as well so here’s 1.2k words of me needing him! this made me feel a little bit insane what have u done to me.

Those soft early ‘mornings’ where both of you wake up too early to get out of bed and do anything, but at an hour that's acceptable enough for you to stay awake, just for a little bit before falling back asleep. The clouds block out what little light is available, so the early early hours of the morning look as though it’s the dead of night, and it technically is. Jihoon had forgotten to close the window last night, and with both of you being as tired as you were, you both opted to just lay down for the night and stay warm by sharing body heat. Neither of you were planning on falling asleep so early, hence the ungodly hour you had woken up at, and neither of you move much in your sleep, so the position you ended up cuddling in is the one you wake up in. 

Soft skin against soft skin, tired whimpers as you both wake up; you first from the eight hours of sleep you managed to accumulate by four in the morning, and Jihoon, from you pushing your head further into his shoulder in your fatigue. He murmurs softly, hands finding your hair first, brushing it out of your face as you look up at him. Jihoon gives you a sleepy little smile, slowly waking up with you, completely basking in the warmth you and the covers give him in the cold bedroom. “Can’t sleep anymore?” He asks, voice a little scratchy with sleep still drifting away from him. You hum in acknowledgement, pushing your face into his neck. 

Jihoon’s hand slides up your (his) shirt, his fingers roaming over the pit of your spine. His touch is barely there, fingers hardly grazing your skin. It makes you shiver softly against him, goosebumps rising on your arms involuntarily. Your hands find their way into his hair, threading through the strands as your nails scratch against his scalp. He preens like a cat, leaning into your touch as his head rolls back slightly. 

You place a careful kiss to his jaw, near his ear and he’s a goner. The spot under his ear is particularly sensitive; even when you just dig your thumb into it slightly as you hold his neck, it has him squirming in his spot. He whimpers softly, and it makes you smile softly before you begin to softly suck at the skin. He throws his head back against the pillow, giving you more access to the soft skin of his neck. Jihoon’s hands finally settle on your back, one over the fabric of the shirt and one under it. 

You place another kiss to his sweet spot, before you slowly move your attack down his neck, lips ghosting over his Adam's apple as you move to kiss and suck at the same sweet spot on the other side of his neck. Jihoon’s tiny whines and whimpers are the only other sounds that fill the room aside from the downpour outside. 

Angling your head slightly to gently bite at his earlobe, you catch a draft of his shampoo. His cologne had long worn off, but the sheets smell like him and his hair smells so fucking good that it starts to drive you insane as he takes over all five of your senses. You suck in a shaky breath, and Jihoon catches your face before you can even make it to the destination of his earlobe. Jihoon’s grip on your face is gentle, hand holding the side of your face with so much care and adoration. You lean into his palm, allowing him to pull your face closer for a soft kiss. He still tastes like the sweet sauce on the chicken you two had for supper, but he always tastes so sweet that it doesn’t really make much of a difference. His lips are plush and soft, as they always are, and all you can think about is him, him, him. 

Jihoon’s hand that was still on your back slips down your warm skin to your waist. He wraps his arm around you, gently shifting his hip against the mattress and curling his legs around yours as he slowly rolls you over onto your back. His lips never leave yours, somehow maintaining the slow and careful pace.

Displays of his strength, no matter how frequently they happen (and let's face it, they happen a lot; your boyfriend is just really strong), always knock the oxygen right out of your lungs. You gripped his hair a little harder and opened your mouth softly in a gasp. Jihoon takes the opportunity to push his velvety tongue inside your mouth. You let him. You let him kiss you stupid in the downpour as you gently tug and pull on his hair because what else can you do? 

Jihoon’s little whines pick up in frequency as you bury yourself in him. He’s everywhere, muscular torso towering over you, making you feel so much smaller than him as he kisses you until the only thing you’re able to think about is Jihoon himself.  

He pulls away softly when you start to pant against his lips, hands still in his hair but holding on him not as tight. His eyes sparkle in the dark room; the glow of the street lights reflecting back at you in the form of stars in his eyes. God, he's so in love with you. “Love, what time is it?” He asks softly, pressing his forehead against yours, noses rubbing against each other. 

“Four, I think.” You whisper. He laughs gently at the volume of your voice, like the two of you weren’t supposed to be up this early and were afraid of getting caught. The arm that’s not holding him up bends, and his large hand slides back under your shirt. 

He shifts again, knees cracking softly as he rests his weight on them. With both hands available for action, he uses the other to pull you to his chest as he sits up temporarily. You already know what to do, engaging your core to keep yourself upright as both of his hands grip the hem of your shirt. “We should head back to sleep soon then, hm? It’s too early.” His voice is still scratchy, face pressed against your neck so the vibrations of his speech ripple through your entire body. 

Your nails scratch his back as he pulls the shirt over your head, laying you back down on the bed. “Yeah, it’s too early.” You agree, holding the side of his face against your neck, fingertips digging into the small bruise you left by his ear. He hisses before it devolved into another gentle whimper. You giggle and do it again, and Jihoon melts against you. Soft moans mix with tiny whines echo around the room. Thunder cracks, making both of you jump softly, giving you both unexpected friction as you move against each other unexpectedly.

Jihoon feels like putty in your hands, giving into the early morning session of feeling each other up, cock hardening against your thigh as you make a mess of him. The rain picks up and you feel drunk on him; his scent, his size, his strength, his little noises, him. He’s everywhere and he’s everything to you. Something about the rain relaxes Jihoon, and it makes him more compliant when you need him like this. He places another kiss to your lips, jaws moving in sync with each other in perfect rhythm. You know Jihoon and he knows you, and that’s what makes this even better.

Safe to say, the both of you got a few more hours of sleep after working yourselves slowly into exhaustion as he brought both of you to completion with slow, deep thrusts and gentle kisses wherever either of your mouths could reach.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

A Golden Rose 🌼 | Alicent Hightower Headcanon

GOT/HOTD Masterlist

Alicent Hightower having a secret relationship with the daughter of Lord Tyrell would involve:

Becoming a lady-in-waiting to the young queen early on in her marriage to King Viserys after you were sent to King's Landing upon the request of his Grace. Leaving the Reach and your family for the capitol, where you would remain indefinity. You'd only been in the proximity to the royal couple once on the day of their wedding, though you never exchanged words. It came as a surprise when two years later at ten and seven the raven arrived to accompany the Queen as she nears the end of her term. Pending the birth of her second child.  

It was pretty much love at first sight for Alicent, who was drawn to your beauty and personality. The sharp wit and charm of a Tyrell, you had her a blushing mess nearly every day. Alicent requesting your company more often rather than all her ladies. Pretty much leaving them to the winds. You didn't mind. In fact, you relished in the attention. 

You clocked onto her affections early on, not blind to her lingering gazes, soft smiles, and how her eyes drew to you each time she entered a room. Walking closely beside you, while the other ladies trailed behind. It only took four months for you to confront her, as you developed strong feelings for the Queen and no longer had the strength to keep them hidden. "My Queen, forgive me for speaking freely, but I cannot go another day with us not saying what we so desperately want. I know what you feel for me, and I want you to know I feel the same." 

Yeah, she was a goner. Her heart soaring with happiness...and fear. Of course you two could not explore a relationship openly. She was married--to the damn King! And you were a lady-in-waiting expected to marry a nobleman or knight. If anyone found out about your relations, you'd be exiled or facing the sword. Alicent surely would face the King's wrath, and neither of you wanted to picture that. 

So, you both did what you had to do: you loved in secret. Behind closed doors and wondering eyes. Gifts of sentiments on namedays, brushing hands when passing teacups, seeking one out in a crowded room, walks in the garden. Anonymous notes of admiration, kisses at night when the Keep was asleep. Reading to each other in the library, picking flowers to put in the other's hair. Saving sweets from lunch and supper to share later on in your chambers. And on most nights, you'd run your fingers through Alicent's soft hair to lull her to sleep.

The love you shared blossomed like the golden rose that represented your house. Growing stronger by the years. You and Alicent had the biggest secret in all of Westeros. One you would go to war to protect. 

Viserys was always occupied with King duties and entertaining his council to see what his wife was up to. Otto kept a close eye, and you often felt his suspicious gaze on you at events, but never once did he comment. Though you'd never admit it to Alicent, you were grateful when he was dismissed as Hand. It was one less person you had to worry about. The maids and guards turned a blind eye, all except Criston Cole. Once he became Alicent's sworn protector, he followed you two like a dog on a leash. And when he did catch you two in a compromising position roughly a year after she had Aemond, Alicent made him swear on his life to be silent. 

Rhaenyra was....complicated. For one you knew of her friendship with Alicent prior to her marriage to the King, and the love they shared for each other. Admittedly, you were slightly jealous, but got over it once Alicent assured you she no longer harbored those affections for the Princess. Still, you were not Rhaenyra's biggest fan. Her behavior and comments toward Alicent had you fuming, but you remained calm in the presence of others. Once she finally married and had children you were pleased.

Speaking of children, you were close to Alicent's sons and daughter, despite hating Viserys for putting her through four pregnancies and treating her like a broodmare after what he did to Queen Aemma. The resentment towards the King only heightened when he seemed to forget about the children he sired, preferring Rhaenyra and her sons. Daeron was sent to Oldtown young, leaving the older three, who you helped Alicent raise.

As the children grew up, they were not blind to your relationship. Why their mother always broke fast with you and invited you to the table at supper. Why she asked for your opinion on certain things. How she ordered golden roses to be planted in the gardens of the Keep on your 19th nameday when you mentioned feeling homesick. The fact there was always your favorite pastries at banquets. And when she went to light a candle in the sept, you were right there with her. You were dressed in the finest silks compared to the other ladies-in-waiting. 

Where they confused in the beginning? of course they were. They didn't understand why their mother was more devoted to you than their father. Why Alicent's eyes sparked when looking at you, much like when she looked at them, instead of the King. But they never once spoke of it. Understanding there was a deep affection between the two of you that the realm would never accept. 

Yet when the dragons danced years later as the kingdom split between Greens and Blacks, the history books would write about the Hightower that bloomed with golden roses. Why Highgarden did not hesitate to raise their banners in support of King Aegon II Targaryen. Covering the southern lands that would further weaken Rhaenyra's defense. Making the Princess and her council realize their mistake of undermining the influence you had on the Alicent.

For a rose is so beautiful to the eye, one forgets about its thorns.

[joanquill]

Hiding from a Stalker with Moriarty Brothers + Von Herder

Can I ask for a scenario fic where a Fem! Reader runs up to the Moriarty Brothers + Von herder pretending to be their girlfriend becuuse of a stalker

Albert, William, Louis James Moriarty, and Von Herder

Tag/s: Fem!Reader, Scenario

Albert James Moriarty

"Miss (L/N)!" Sir Acheron called out for you as you squeezed in through the crowd, hoping the number of people would help you hide.

"Excuse me... Miss (L/N), please wait!" the man kept calling out, his eyes locked on you as he made his way through the crowd.

'This is bad...!' you gulped as you quickly walked around, hoping to lose him as he followed you through the dance floor.

'Is he gone..?' you thought, turning your head around as you walked, bumping into someone.

"Sorry! I didn't see-!" you quickly apologized as you faced forward, seeing it was Albert James Moriarty, his suit now drenched in wine as the crowd gasped.

"Insolent girl!"

"Ugh, how improper..."

"How dare she...!"

"Are you all right, miss?" he asked, seeing your frantic state.

"Miss (L/N)!" Sir Acheron called as he reached you, making your blood freeze.

"A-Apologies, my lord…! Shall I help you with the stain?" your voice cracked as you took out your handkerchief, wiping the wine out with shaky hands as the crowd glared at you.

Albert raised a brow as he looked at Sir Acheron, connecting the dots.

"I believe helping me get a new set of clothes would be a better alternative?" Albert suggested, stopping your hand.

"Shall we?" he smiled, linking your arm with his as you walked out of the dance floor.

"O-Of course!" you agreed, sighing in relief as you followed along, hearing Sir Acheron scoff as he left the scene.

"I can see why you would bump into me despite me standing still," Albert whispered, making you nervously laugh.

"Right… Sorry again about the stain. I know quite the talented tailor in town, though!"

William James Moriarty

Your eyes darted around the street, hoping to see at least one shop still open for the night to hide.

You gulped as you saw the man's shadow growing on the ground, hearing his footsteps quickening and closing in on you.

Desperate, you quickly made your way to the department store, only to be stopped by the security guard.

"I'm sorry, miss. We're closing in a few minutes,"

"No, no… You don't understand." you grabbed his arm in fear, "Please, I just need somewhere to-"

"-Sorry, darling. Have you waited long?" a voice chimed in, making you and the guard turn your head to the sound.

It was a nobleman with blond hair and red eyes smiling at you both.

"W-What?"

"Sorry, I lost track of time," he apologetically laughed, walking up to you.

"Shall we get going?" he asked, looking over to his side.

Following, you saw the man stalking you stopped by a lamplight, making your blood curl.

"Y-Yes," you smiled, taking his arm, "Let's go…" you muttered, following the man as you kept your eyes on the stalker.

"There's a police station a couple of blocks from here," the nobleman whispered, making you widen your eyes.

He only looked at you with a wink.

"I'm sure we can convince the officers to help, along with a restraining order if needed."

"I see…" you sighed in relief, feeling your body relax for the first time that night.

"Thank you so much…" you muttered, feeling your eyes tear up in relief, "I thought I was a goner.."

"Here," the man gave you a handkerchief, which you happily took.

"Don't worry, that man won't hurt you now."

Louis James Moriarty

"There you were!" you beamed as you grabbed Louis' arm, catching him by surprise.

"(Y/N)? What are you-"

"Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you," you sighed as you hugged his arm, your whole body shaking as you hid your face.

Louis raised a brow as he looked around, seeing a man staring at you both in the dark.

'Oh...'  he thought and frowned, wrapping an arm around you.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry," he smiled as he pulled you close, hiding you from the man's sight.

"For how long has he been following you?" he whispered, making you gulp.

"I just noticed him an hour ago..."

Louis frowned at the answer as he put his coat on you, catching you by surprise.

"You seemed cold," he explained, keeping you close as you left the department store.

"Did he do anything to you?"

"No, he was just following me the whole time," you answered, pulling his coat close to your body.

"Sorry... I know you wanted to buy a gift for William's birthday,"

"What are you apologizing for?" Louis sighed, keeping an eye on the stalker following you both, "That creep isn't your fault," he reasoned as he called for a carriage.

"Let's get you home for the time being," Louis whispered as he helped you up the carriage.

"What about you?" you asked as you grabbed his hand, "You might get hurt,"

Louis breathed out a smile as he removed your hold, "I'll be fine. You're the one he wants,"

"Then what are you gonna do?"

A dangerous glint lit up in Louis' eyes before he lifted his head and gave you a courteous smile.

"Just giving him a lesson he won't forget,"

Von Herder

"Honey!" you called out as you hugged Herder from behind, almost making you both fall over.

"Huh? What-" he muttered, feeling you hold him with trembling arms.

"Um... Miss? I think you got the wrong-"

"-Honestly... I thought you said we were meeting in the cafe?" you sighed with a shaky breath, still holding onto him.

Furrowing his brows, he gently hugged you back, feeling another presence behind you not too far away.

'I see...'  Herder sighed, noticing the growing hostile air closing in on you two.

"Sorry, sorry! It must have slipped my mind," Herder played along with a cheery voice, pulling you away from the presence and linking his arm with yours.

"Now then, what should we eat?" he asked as he led you away from the presence, hearing you sigh in relief.

"You can decide this time," you replied, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Sorry, miss. Are you all right?" Herder whispered, still feeling the presence following you.

"Yes, I'm okay... Thank you for playing along," you whispered back, your hands still shaking.

Herder frowned as he kept you close, thinking of a possible solution.

"Oh!" he beamed, stopping abruptly with a grin.

"Sorry, honey. Can we make a quick stop?" Herder asked as he pointed at a mechanics shop, making you raise a brow.

"I don't mind. But what for?" you asked as Herder smirked.

"You'll see," he answered vaguely as you both entered the shop.

"It will be quick, miss...?"

"(Y/N)," you smiled, "(Y/N) (L/N),"

"Miss (Y/N)," he finished as he rummaged around some parts.

"If you don't mind, I might have a solution on how to protect yourself,"

[princess-tulip-writes]

azriel’s habits while doing it

a/n: this was requested to me so long ago, and I feel horrible for taking so long but alas, here it finally is. I plan on making this a series with the bat boys and maybe the vanserra bros too.

I think azriel is a switch; dom leaning.

he’s mainly a soft dom but alternates to a hard dom sometimes too. he can be submissive, but only if you ask or he needs to be taken extra care of.

azriel tends to baby you during sex; calling you pretty nick names, caressing your skin, kissing you all over, making sure you’re feeling just as good as he is.

speaking of nicknames, he has the best ones for you that make your pussy clench just from him calling you them.

princess, angel, bunny, and sweet girl are the most common, but they never really stop. he always finds new titles to make you flustered and wet.

pussy eating is a daily routine for him. never once has he sinked his cock in you without getting a taste first, making you cum at least once beforehand.

he just loves the fucking taste of you so much, the days that he doesn’t fit eating you out in his busy schedule are always bad ones. it’s comical to you, but if you giggle about it, you’re in trouble.

punishments are never mild with azriel. spanking sessions are long and harsh, your ass is definitely a shade of purple and blood red once he’s finished.

he’ll carve his initials in you if you need reminding of who’s pet you are too. but that’s only if you’d gone too far to make him jealous.

overestim and edging are big ones for him when you’ve done something minor.

he’s the type to eat you out, but stop as soon as your right on the edge then go about his day. he won’t fuck you before bed that night either to teach you a lesson.

with overstimulation, he’d keep lapping at your clit until your sobbing for him to stop, then fuck you for hours until you’re both soaked in squirt.

making you a squirting mess is his favorite thing ever btw.

this male has SUCH a dirty fcking mouth. like seriously, you can’t get him to shut up.

“what a pretty girl.”

“fucking love this cock don’t you?”

“tell me who’s fucking you this good, princess.”

“gods, I love the way you say my name, angel. keep screaming it for me.”

sigh, I need him.

his hands love wander all over your soft curves, squishing your chub adoringly as he stares into your teary, fog filled eyes. he always whispers to you about how you feel like paradise in his hands.

cum! rings!

he loves looking at the way his cock disappears inside of your lush cunt, then comes back with a white, creamy ring at the base from how much you’ve came.

his kisses are hot, and filled with such passion that it could make the cruelest lords fold under him, and it makes your knees buckle and walls clench every time his lips find yours. his tongue is everywhere in your mouth exploring. the smell and taste of him is intoxicating and you savor every bit as his fucks you.

omg okay, wingplay.

it’s the absolute death of azriel, let me tell you

usually, when you want to expel the prettiest whines and moans from him, you would drag your fingertips along the curves and bones of those glorious wings.

and boy, no matter what mood he is in; weather he’s pissed at you and pounding you so fucking hard, or feeling so loving to you— the second your graze the sensitive membrane, he’s a goner.

“fu-fuck, beautiful.” he’d whine before sinking his lips to yours and moaning against them as you keep tickling him.

also, wingplay definitely helps you when you’re in a lot of trouble— if your hands are free that is.

which gives me an idea: kissing his wings.

you usually only do this when you’re making love or you’re the one in control. either way, it makes him crumble instantly.

a few opened mouth kisses and some licks to the underside can get him desperate and ready to cum so fast. he actually starts to buck his hips in the air because he just wants to finish so bad.

when he cums, which is in a fairly decent amount of time; not too quick, but not too slow. you usually cum once or twice on his cock before he finishes inside.

he cums ropes too.

the fucking sounds this male makes—

im talking whimpers, beautifully dark whimpers and moans as he fills you up. his wings flutter softly and shake, his thighs and abs clench and he usually seeks out your shoulder or bottom lip to bite.

aftercare is always a top priority !!!

sometimes he runs you a bath immediately, others he just stays with you and holds you close while telling you how good you’ve been for him, how much he loves you, how pretty you are as he peppers soft kisses all over your face.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

🤠🫶:

I am CACKLING like a cartoon villain oh my GOD you are a genius!!! Of course the toxic king breaks his back of COURSE he does the fucking idiot (affectionate), so there's fuck-all he can do with reader's big announcement that this was all worth it and he can totally get some...yknow, in a couple months. AHHHHH. And she just wanted to give him something to look forward to, motivation for the physical therapy <33 (she boops his nose while he lays there wishing for death and cowering from her, of course she does, omg. i love them your honor!!)

and maybe she gets more confident now that he can't fucking move 💀💀 (lmao, oh god. König if you weren't such a menace this would have been easier for her a lot earlier and nobody would be in this situation) and maybe this leads to way more sensual  touching from her on her own initiative; she's curious, after all, and she does like him a lot and she's just trying to help him get better, you know? and König eats that shit up, starts telling her all about these itches and sore muscles he can't reach, could she be a dear (trying to act like he's not literally begging for her touch) and then he basically blacks out the first time her hands linger and drift, but probably better that than the things he was going to say to her. So König wants to die, this is too much, he's done, he's a goner each time she visits him. and damn her, she's a devoted little thing, never misses visiting hours. Always so sweet and caring towards him and it's the perfect image of a faithful, doting housewife without the wife or the house or the sex part of it lmao. And of course he can’t move when all this is happening!!! so basically just more torture and his mind just kind of breaks into little tiny pieces held together by demented lovesick lust-filled fantasies. he says some absolutely filthy things (makes the cunt licking look family friendly in comparison), he can't control it really anymore, and poor reader is shocked/horrified and blushing furiously, but thinks it's the medications and the pain and whatnot, tries to be understanding, only chides him once she gets her shock under control (and he's actually stone cold sober the entire fucking time lmao, but he ain't telling her that, she'd run if she knew). 

AND THEN MAYBE~~ (dun dun dun) one day reader is FINALLY reaching under the stupid hospital bed blanket - he can feel her soft little fingertips and carefully manicured nails travel down his abs, trace the V of his hips (my man is going to black out again, good lord) and she's looking at him with big round eyes and she's nervous she's going to do it wrong and he won't like it (as if), and it's taking FOREVER for her to get her hand between his legs bc sweet little thing just wants to do it right, and he's out of his mind, half-crying, whisper-begging at this point (it's probably not even English, not German either, just mindless pleas). Her hand FINALLY wraps around his length and he's lucky he doesn't cum right then and there; she's blushing so violently at taking a man in her hands for the first time and she's seeking HIS approval with those pretty doe eyes as she bites her lip. So of course that's when there's a knock at the door (the universe hates him, he's going to scream, whoever this is is lucky he can't move and they might die anyway from the blast radius of sheer rage) and a doctor comes in for daily rounds. Reader barely has time to yank her hand back before doc sticks his head through the privacy curtains and yep our man's heart might actually just stop, he is just going to keel over right then and there. 

so not even a handjob for our poor king <3 if he doesn’t die (lol) he transfers to in-home care IMMEDIATELY and finally gets reader to himself in a more private setting where he can lock the fucking door. this is the part where I look away lmao, I'd leave him blue-balled & suffering forever ...am i a mean person?? also RIP to that doctor. this verse is so hilarious & wonderful and i love it, feels like a tug of war between tropes and genres if that makes sense which results in your delightful genius works, thank you thank you <333

This is so beautiful. I am puddle & I can't thank you enough for collaborating & I LOVE YOU Howdy anon 💋 and um, I think I got a little too excited about their first time lol oops (I can't leave him blue-balled forever! Poor man would die of heart failure 🥺)

(Tamara and Demon (1864), Mihály von Zichy)

Word count: 3.7 k

CW: 18+ NSFW. Corruption kink goes brrrr. Masturbating, dirty talking, obsessive/yandere König. Awkward handjob. First time/virgin!reader. Kinda sweet and fluffy 🩷 Also coersion/mildly dubious consent, tread carefully!

A/N: You can find the story of König x virgin!reader and their relationship so far by following the tag (könig x virgin reader)

Oh she visits him alright!

She’s much braver now that König is bedridden and can’t move. They actually spend more time together after the weightlifting accident. The intense stares haven’t gone anywhere, he's actually gotten worse in that department, but otherwise, König is behaving quite nicely.

He seems to like it when she reads to him next to his bed, which is immensely cute in her opinion. Armed with a new book in the crook of her arm, she’s on her way to visit him again for another session.

She's already accustomed to simply floating in after giving his door a light rap. She's also gotten used to the sight of guns and knives and the smell of army storage, even the manly, pungent stench of sweat that lingers on top of it. 

But it’s not the potpourri of masculine military scents that stop her at the door and nearly make her drop her book.

The King himself is lying naked on the bed – well, naked except for the bag of a mask he seems to hold on to like it’s his soul. This time, she doesn’t even see it: her eyes fly straight to the towering erection he’s stroking, urgently with one hand while the other cups a pair of shaved, pale balls.

"König…?" 

The man who calls himself King curses – in German or in English, she can’t tell. The sight of him there, caught red-handed on touching himself, only makes her feel sorry for him. König has nowhere to run and hide, nothing to cover himself with, he's not supposed to even move yet. And he is not the one who should be embarrassed, after all, she's the one who barged in on his privacy. 

Although… König doesn't look embarrassed. 

He only looks drunk and sweaty and in need.

She thinks about turning back and leaving him with hurried excuses because what the hell is she supposed to do…? Read him a book? He is still gripping his cock like it’s a sword or something, breathing like he just ran a marathon. 

And speaking of swords, that weapon is far too big for her... Hell, she doesn’t know much about swords but she would deem that sword far too big for any woman.

If she were clever, she would run away from that stare and that huge, monstrous cock. But she’s not that clever, that much is clear because everyone she’s told she’s dating König have warned her about him. Every cell in her body is warning her of danger, but she keeps running back to him, over and over again…

Well, at least he can’t move, she thinks, takes a hesitant step, and places the book down on a table. Just when she’s about to whisper some calming, soothing words to this beast, the beast speaks.

"Take your clothes off," comes a husky command from the bed, and she freezes with her fingertips still on the cover of her cute little book about German fairytales (she knows König likes his fairytales bloody). 

Normally, she would make a scene out of such audacity. She might even storm out of the room and vow to never speak to him again for daring to talk to her like that.

But… 

He looks so desperate. König looks like a giant bound for torture on that bed. And he's not the only one who has been tormented these past few weeks… The incident at the hospital has plagued her dreams every night as she has tucked herself in with the memories of König's… sword.

Perhaps it would help with his pain if she offers him relief in his time of need. No harm can come from that, surely. She doesn't know how exactly taking her clothes off will help, but if that is his wish, then it’s the least she can do. 

To her and his surprise, her hands drift to the hem of the top she’s wearing. She’s feeling rather wild – something about seeing König completely naked yet unable to move is making her act like this. Like she's the brave one. Like she’s in control now.

Dedicated to her task, she pulls the shirt over her head.

Nothing moves on that bed for a good long while. As far as she can tell, König might've stopped breathing. But by the time she takes her bra off, there’s a swallow under that hood. Then the hand slowly starts to stroke again, the moist, slick sounds continue as her breasts fall free from their confinement. 

She’s breathing heavily too, and the man on the bed is stiff as a stone: every single muscle in his body is pulled taut as he stares at her breasts like they’re the Revelation of John. Then those blue eyes lift to her face just before another command is issued.

"Take off the rest."

"The–the rest…?"

"I just want to watch you." 

His voice is hoarse and croaky, and she feels even more sorry for him – König must be in so much pain and she just keeps on teasing him. She started this, so perhaps it’s better just to see it through. 

What’s crazy though is that he actually moans when she gets out of her pants, socks, and finally, her underwear. The slick sounds of fapping increase, and he’s moaning.

She hasn’t even touched him yet… She’s just standing there before him completely naked, heat pooling low in her belly as König continues to work himself with what looks like both pleasure and pain.

"Komm… Come here," he orders next, out of breath but surprisingly politely, and she has no other option than to approach his bed. She sits down as chastely as possible, then almost jumps back up when a steel-hard thigh brushes against hers.

"Touch it. Ja?" 

Her eyes grow as wide as they can go as she takes in the cock she has touched once before, briefly and under a hospital sheet. Now it’s right there, foreign and demanding. 

Better just to see it through, her mind tweets as her hand reaches out through what feels like water. Like before, there's a sharp intake of air under the hood as she takes him in her hand. It’s even hotter than she remembered, and gives a tight pull the instant her fingers wrap around it. 

"Like this…?" 

"Just like that…"

Her meek little mouse peeps and multiple bats of eyelashes are like drug to him, it seems. The man is as tight as a bowstring when she starts to move her hand up and down, mimicking the motions she just saw him do. They're not as fast as his, and her grip must be way gentler, but she seems to do surprisingly well for an inexperienced virgin. The poor man looks like he’s about to faint on that bed. 

What she doesn’t expect, however, is König to touch her.

A large, warm palm sweeps across her ribs and lands on her breast, softly, as if he's concerned that he might scare her off. She's the one who's stopped breathing now… And then he rubs her, squeezes her. Gently… Reverently.

"You're soft," comes a strained sigh from the bed as she tries to keep her own grip both tight and gentle. She’s starting to get so wet she fears she will stain his sheets. Bewildered, she tries to change her position, but the palm cupping her breast seems to have bound her to the bed too. Nothing moves, except her hand and his as they explore each other. A giant and an angel...

Something hot and wet meets her hand as she strokes him – is he cumming already…? But it can't be, she has heard there’s supposed to be quite a bit of it when a man cums, and there’s only a few ample drops of clear liquid oozing out of the slit on his tip.

"Can't wait for the day I get to make you scream," he rasps, and her heart is hammering in her chest as more cum-like liquid streams from the slit of his cock, adding to the lewd, moist sounds of the handjob she’s giving him.

König doesn’t know she has never even kissed a guy… 

"We'll… we'll get there," she tries to soothe him, thanking her lucky stars this man can't move.

"I want to fuck you," he continues, sounding more and more desperate. "Good and hard… until you cry under me. Want to see if you can take it all in."

"König…"

"It’s a long cock, ja? I can make you squirt."

"König, I'm still a virgin… You can't–"

"Nh–Sorry… sorry."

His head falls back on the pillow, his muscles relax just for the tiniest moment. But if she thought he would finally leave her to it, she was wrong. The hand of a giant killer drops between her legs next. 

She’s sitting on the bed like she would sit on a side saddle, with one leg slightly bent, giving the horniest man on earth good enough access to the heat between her legs. She doesn’t stop him – she doesn’t even want to – as broad fingertips meet her pubic hair and slip between her already slick folds. 

"...Was? Pretty angel is all wet," he comments on her state of mess. Approvingly: like all his fears have suddenly disappeared. 

She has to fight the urge to roll her head back and moan as those agile fingers start to give her full, generous strokes. She almost messes up her rhythm while stroking his cock, which seems to have gotten even harder.

His fingers delve into her with more courage, they tease her tight, tender nub with excited circles. She tries not to jolt and shiver as he makes her even more slick, tries to ignore how her nipples grow hard from that burning stare alone. 

"Such a pretty girl… and so wet. You sure you don't want it?"

She thinks about it – how it would feel if he somehow was able to take her on that bed. If he pushed that cock inside her and if it would hurt or make her moan even more. Even the thought of trying to fit that inside her makes her thighs feel like pudding.

"I don’t know… You're still recovering."

"Heh… That's not a problem. You can be on top. I'll help," he offers as if it’s a gentlemanly thing to do, to help her bounce on that huge cock. 

"I–I'd rather do it the classic way."

"I'll show you classic when I get better," he promises with unconcealed greed. "I'll show you all the other ways too. We’ll do it any way you like."

She tries hard not to whimper when hearing his promise. She tries her best to pleasure the biggest cock she’s ever seen. It’s ridiculous that it’s the only cock she’s ever seen... What sort of a cruel joke was it from the universe to choose this king-sized Austrian to be her first man? 

She wonders how König would react if she told him he’s too big for her.

Would he try to change her mind? Would he have a meltdown? 

Would he cry…? 

She doubts if this man ever cries. The last time a brutal soldier like him shed tears was probably when he was a kid. But he did look like he was about to cry that one time when she booped his nose... 

And despite being a cold-blooded soldier and somewhat awkward at times, König has always been so, so delicate with her. He's tender even now, touching her with the gentlest avarice there is. But that searing stare wants to possess her, devour her, and it makes her bite her lip nearly to the point of drawing blood.

"Sit on my face?" he offers next, this time sounding so desperate it's almost pathetic. 

Sit on his face… 

What would he even do? Lick her? Try to push his tongue inside her while finishing himself?

The thought alone makes her mess up her rhythm again and causes her pussy to pulse more wetness on his fingers. She secretly hopes he would slip at least one of those fingers inside.

"Let me see your cunt," he begs. God – this giant mercenary is begging to see her poor, aching pussy. "Just… let me at least taste you–"

She can’t even reply before the hand between her legs gives a sudden twitch and stops those delicious rubs. Actually, his whole body is going rigid. 

"König…? Am I hurting you?"

"I'm–gonna cum…" 

Oh god.

Oh god ohgod-

She's not sure what gives her more of a fright: the sound that leaves her soldier boyfriend as he cums, or the bright, hot flash of liquid that shoots from the cock in her hand.

He groans like it’s torture. Long and hard, so loud that she’s sure other people can hear it in the neighboring rooms, perhaps even further than that. There’s one, two, three spurts of thick, hot liquid, after that, she loses count because it spills to coat his stomach, it runs down her hand, and she’s pumping him in a frenzy while he just keeps on moaning.

"Slow, slow down–" he tries to groan in the middle of his climax and she obeys immediately, reveling in how his cock still throbs in her hand when she finally stops moving altogether. More cum gushes out with every strong pulse, even if the eruptions are less violent. Ropes of it already cover his abs, it coats her hand with thick film – it's far more than she would ever have expected, and a shiver goes through her as she imagines what it must feel like to take all of that semen inside her… 

"Ah… Das war wirklich…" König sighs dreamily while she must be looking like a startled deer.

Yes, that was really something… She doesn’t know what to do with his cock, or her hand, or the mess that coats half his body.

Luckily, he instructs her to take his old shirt from the floor and clean herself with it. She cleans him with it too, dabs the black t-shirt over his muscled stomach, even tries to swipe his crotch with it as gently as she can. 

König looks happier by the minute, looks at her like she’s an angel or something, and when she fully commits herself to getting him cleaned up, he gets another erection. She’s quite horrified – how is this even possible…? She thought men would need at least hours to get it back up again.

"Come on top," he offers, sounding all but seductive with that commanding tone. 

She swallows, thinking if König wants to be a "gentleman" and finish her too. With his tongue... or something else.

"Just for a hug? We don't have to put it in."

She seems to be under some spell tonight, because she simply drops the poor, cum-stained shirt back on the floor and crawls to the bed and on top of him.

König is hot and lean as she presses herself against him, her thighs now straddling the intimidating thing between his legs. Her head falls right beside his mask-covered face, and the smell of guns and fuel and sweat is prominent there, as is his natural odor, the woodland musk she has grown so fond of.

"There we go," his arms go around her waist, pressing her tighter against him. There’s no escape now, she thinks, but like always with König, she eventually softens and relaxes, molds against him… Accepts her fate.

"You did well, Meine Liebe," he even caresses her head as she slowly melts into his hold. "I’m sorry if I frightened you. Will you forgive me?"

"Um, of course."

"A gentleman should always apologize if he has upset his lady. Do you agree?"

"Uh… Yes."

"I promise to be a good man. The best man you could ever hope for."

She bites her lip as König continues to caress her. She’s far from upset, but she doesn’t want to tell him that and excite him too much. Otherwise he might end up hurting himself. He hugs her tight, and seems to have calmed down more than ever.

Is this what an orgasm does to a man...? The change is drastic, and her lover feels warm, and tender, and inviting. He even whispers more promises on her skin. They're nonsensical but gentle, König is probably trying to be romantic, but she can feel how his breaths grow heavier as time goes on. After all, they're both naked, pressed tightly together, closer than ever before, and he's having an erection again...

She tries not to shiver at the things he tells her. The husky promises of love and protection: "You are mine now, ja? Don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you. I will always keep you safe." And then, "You’re still wet, mein Mädchen… How about we practice just a little bit? We'll do it slow. Ja? I will make you moan…"

He coos those things in her ear while holding her in place for his cock. She starts to move on her own accord; it’s like her hips have their own will. Soon, her entrance meets the tip of him, still hot and bulged, and she starts to grind against it with barely restrained greed. She is wet – wetter than ever. 

König curses multiple times under his breath, and she feels so, so filthy for loving how unhinged he is, how unhinged she is – spread wide on top of him like that, trying to get off of the faintest touch of his cock. She’s so soaked that the hot tip of him glides across her folds with no effort at all. 

She feels like she’s doing something forbidden, taking her pleasure from him like that, but König doesn’t seem to know what the word filthy even means. He keeps praising her, guiding her, helping her, telling her how good she feels, that she’s doing so, so well.

Soon, he’s asking to put it in – just the tip. 

She tries her best not to sound too needy as she breathes a soft, mousy "Yes."

"How does that feel?"

He’s panting, few inches of thick cock inside her, and she thinks, did she just lose her virginity? Is this it? Why isn’t it hurting?

“You like that, hmm?”

He feels so, so good, pressing her against him, spreading her legs with his own, trying to feed more of that marvelous thickness inside. It doesn’t hurt, at least not yet. It makes her dizzy to even think what she must be looking like, with her legs spread and a huge cock partly inside her.

She should say something… What was it that he asked? Oh yes, if she likes it. She more than just likes it, and tries to push herself down to get more of him in. König reacts immediately with a ton of praise leveled at her in the softest possible way.

“That's it, that's it, pretty girl, take it in…”

Him cheering her on like that only makes her decide that it’s time to let go and let go for good. But she can’t get him in by herself, not while he’s holding her a prisoner like this.

"More… König, please," she hears herself whimper. 

God, is this all it took...? Him holding her close and letting her find the joys of sex herself? Apparently so, because he sounds goddamn smug when he turns his head to rasp more needy, throaty things in her ear.

"Ah… Knew you'd beg for it… "

His voice makes her inner walls clamp down on him, and that’s when it hurts, but only slightly. She wants him so much that it’s painful. And König… God, he keeps on showering her with praises and promises.

"I'll show you how good it can be… That's it, let me hear you. It's a good cock, ja? Good cock for a pretty girl…"

It’s not even fully in before he starts the thrusts. That’s when she knows she has lost her virginity. She’s being plunged. Not taken… Just… loved, thoroughly and deeply. 

When she moans, finally sounds as filthy as can be, he tells her how tight she is. How good she feels. He says he’s going to cum again soon. But not before her…

He doesn’t need to instruct her to rub her clit on his pelvis in rhythm with the thrusts. She is smart enough to do that by herself. And the thoughts of This is it, I’m not a virgin anymore have turned into Is it possible to cum on your first time…?

Everything’s perfect, all things considered. But there’s something missing.

"König," she swallows arduously. "I’ve never been kissed... Would you– Could you…?"

He stops moving, releases his hold a little. A strong heart is hammering inside his chest, she can feel it against her own fluttering heartbeat. 

Is it stupid of her to ask…? Will he only laugh at her for being so sentimental?

Apparently no, because it’s the warmest possible command that surrounds her this time.

"Lift the mask, angel."

By the time their lips meet, both hesitant and needy, he's fully inside her and holding her like a mountain. She feels like she's in a fairytale now: the only thing that moves is his mouth, and hers. Theirs is a slow, hungry rhythm. 

Her first kiss is not only awkwardly romantic and sweet, it’s sinfully good. 

The kiss also does things she did not expect. Her pussy goes tight around him, so tight that a whimper or two escape her nose, and König only purrs – she feels like the softest little creature in the embrace of a lean jaguar.

And she thinks… 

Why on earth didn't they do this months ago?

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites Pt. 12

Hiii! It’s been a while! Sorry for such a long wait, my life has been chaos non-stop with one bad thing after another, but I was determined to finish this chapter! φ(・ω・｀ ) Forgive me if the pacing and formatting is a little off, but I finally got it done, even if I didn’t get to stuff everything I wanted into this chapter. But that just leaves more for the next one. I do hope you all Enjoy!

Summary: You begin to seriously dwell on your situation, but it seems even as much as you would like to stay, home comes calling. With home on the other line, it seems your fantasy must eventually come to an end. Though it seems Dracula may want a few words…

CW: Anxiety, budding feelings, dark thoughts, brief thoughts of murder, mentions of toxic family

Word Count: 5367 Words!

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—

If you were being honest, you were beginning to wonder if staying in Dracula’s castle was driving you mad.

It had only been about three days, give or take, and yet…

How else would one rationally explain why you were actually enjoying your stay here at his castle? Or enjoying his visits with how tenderly the Dracula treated you?

Answer was, you didn’t.

At the moment, you were pressing your face into one of the soft pillows on the bed of your room. Outside of the castle, you could faintly hear the sounds of rolling thunder, and raindrops hitting the window.

Somehow, what normally would have been an eerie atmosphere had also become a comfort for you.

You weren’t as tense here. Despite being in Dracula’s castle, and that someone had already tried to kill you, you didn’t feel like you were in survival mode 24/7.

Not like how you were at your old home.

Clutching the pillow closer, you inhaled the pillow’s scent, before letting out a muffled groan.

There was also something you didn’t want to admit. The fact you were beginning to feel really weird about Dracula himself.

And it wasn’t even a bad weird.

It’s something you had been wanting to just shove into the back of your mind and never think of again, but it was beginning to be really hard to do that with how gentle and careful the Vampire Lord was with you.

Especially with the way he oh so gently held parts of your body when overseeing your healing injuries.

Your mind wandered to when he first picked you up, how he held you so effortlessly, holding you against his large frame as he carried you across the castle to this guest room.

Or how his large hands carefully cradled your midsection as he looked over your stitches that you had accidentally messed up. How his cool hands sent electric tingles across your skin-

Heat rushed to your face.

His voice had been so low, and those gorgeous ruby eyes looking at you with genuine concern.

And then his smirk.

How he smirked at you as he teased you, no malice to be seen on his face.

“I’m such a fucking goner, holy shit.” you mumbled into your pillow as heat flushed through your body.

You didn’t dare admit it out loud, but deep down, you knew what this meant.

Heart thudding in your chest, you gripped the pillow tighter.

You had a crush on Dracula.

It wasn’t something you could keep denying, not when your heart fluttered when he gave you such tender looks, or when his lips curled into an amused smirk when he teased you.

The urge to yell was strong.

“I must have really hit my head.”

Of course, that was an excuse you could only use so much until it was just a convenient lie. With the potion Dracula had made for you, the injury to your head had mostly healed.

With the injury to your skull no longer an issue, you knew deep down these feelings you had were unfortunately very natural.

Lifting your head from the pillow, you looked over to the window, idly watching a few flashes of lightning followed by thunder.

Swallowing thickly, you thought back to how he was just so… kind to you.

Even when he was being truthful, it was kind. Dracula didn’t have to tell you that the first batch of potions had been tampered with, but he wanted to be honest with you. It was clear he was putting his cards on the table so you could make your own decisions.

When had someone last been so… open with you? Willingly?

Just the thought had your heart pounding.

Was it really that simple? Someone just had to show you basic kindness for your heart to grow fond of them?

Another flash of lightning struck outside the castle, and you rolled onto your side.

Your mind idly wandered to something Dracula had told you while trying to make conversation. Something about how even the weather was connected to him, to a degree.

Despite the lightning and thunder, it wasn’t angry, like a beast lashing out. Not like it had been earlier.

Another part of you wondered if that heavy storm had been when Dracula found out the potions meant for you had been poisoned.

An even smaller part almost wanted to believe it, imagining how angry he could have possibly been on your behalf. Just like he had been when he broke free, how he wanted to know who had hurt you.

In truth, it was the storm earlier that had caused you to trip and tear some of your stitches.

A loud crack of lightning had shaken the castle earlier, all while you were getting up to use the restroom connected to the room you stayed in. It startled you enough to make you trip over your own feet, and collapse on the floor.

If it had been Dracula’s doing, you didn’t blame him. You doubted he was aware you had been up walking when he had been so angry.

…And because of it, you got to feel his hands on your body, even if it was brief.

A moment passed.

“Am I really that down bad?” you asked yourself, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

You wanted to scream.

This was not fair. Not fair at all.

Why Dracula of all people? The very man you were ‘destined’ to fight?

Deep down, it wasn’t hard to figure out the answer.

You were lonely.

Lonely, and a bit broken.

To have someone, even your biggest ‘enemy’ treat you with respect and kindness… Looking at it from an outside perspective? It wasn’t particularly surprising your heart was trying to latch onto him.

It didn’t make things any easier, though.

Especially when he gave you such fond looks. Looks you could almost imagine a good friend or lover giving you.

“Yup, I’m losing it.” You spoke, your eyes narrowing.

If anything, this made things way more complicated.

What on earth were you going to do now?

You’ve toyed with the idea of maybe politely asking Dracula to, you know, not destroy all of humanity in a attempt of mass genocide.

But would it be that easy?

Just because he seemed to respect you, did not mean he would give the same pardon to the rest of your kind. Especially how he didn’t seem too pleased when you mentioned you got your injuries from personal business.

It wasn’t a lot of info, but you had a feeling Dracula suspected it was humans that had done this to you. No doubt that wouldn’t help you with pleading your case.

Still… You also found your mind wandering over possibly trying to talk Dracula out of killing all humans, despite the odds.

It was something you had wanted the moment you found his statue, though you never really thought you’d get this far.

Could you really do it? Convince the Lord of the Night to leave humanity be?

Perhaps you could make a compromise? You knew he had to drink blood to live, perhaps he’d be interested in the few supernatural blood drives that existed?

…Or even your own blood?

You quickly shook your head, trying to get the image of Dracula intimately biting into your neck out of your mind.

That image pleased you a lot more than you’d like to admit…

With a huff, you brought a hand to your face, and rubbed your eyes.

“What was I thinking about again? Right! Compromise…”

It wasn’t like you could just stop hunting, either. Even if Dracula agreed not to kill humans, that didn’t mean other people who lived independently of him would follow such a lifestyle. If a beast or something of paranormal nature was out causing harm to innocent people, you’d have to put a stop to it.

But, perhaps… Perhaps you could convince Dracula at least to leave humanity be, unless someone personally spites him?

In that case, you could hardly feel the desire to stop him. Fuck around and find out and all that.

You would no doubt though have to give something up in return, no?

Not hunting Dracula wouldn’t be enough, you were sure. The King of the Night had sworn to destroy humanity for killing his wife. You doubted he would simply just stop in his crusade because you asked nicely and swore not to kill him for it.

“Perhaps if I added his castle and the covens that follow him…”

So long as his underlings weren’t out hunting innocent people, you generally had no reason to hunt them. The life of someone from the paranormal was tough, that you knew from the few supernatural acquaintances you had.

Not every dark being wanted to kill, they simply had to for survival. More often than not, it was humans that didn’t give them any options, hunting them down for being a dark being, or not helping them control their hunger.

On one hand, you understood the human perspective, to a degree. Why help something that needs to feed on your lifeblood to survive?

But on the other hand… If humanity helped them instead of scorned them, they would have no reason to hunt humans in the first place. Such as the blood banks to help feed vampires, so they were fed and didn’t have to give into their instincts.

Unfortunately, those weren’t incredibly popular as you’d like them to be. At least some of humanity was giving it a shot though…

Blowing a tuft of hair out of your face, you scowled. It really was an unending battle.

Didn’t help humans and many of the supernatural thought themselves above the other. No doubt if Dracula miraculously agreed not to kill humans, others would just find that stupid and do it anyway.

And you also figured others would come to hunt Dracula themselves. Even if the man agreed to leave humans alone, you doubted humans, let alone the church would take kindly to him just existing.

Hell, was his son even still alive? Alucard, you think his name was?

You had read about him from different journals of different Belmonts. It was clear the man was immortal, despite the human blood running through his veins

How the man was Dracula’s son, who had sworn to kill his father any time he should rise.

Swallowing thickly, you suddenly felt a bit sick.

Would you… Would you have to fight Alucard? The same man your ancestors thought so fondly of?

Somehow, that thought made your stomach churn.

You didn’t even know if the man was still alive. Could he be? Could Alucard really have hidden himself, even in modern times?

Or perhaps he had put himself to eternal rest until Dracula had awakened once more? You read something about him doing that in one of Richter’s journals. Something about how Alucard awoke to the call of Castlevania after Richter had risen the castle.

You felt your heart tick up a beat. Did that mean Alucard might come here and fight Dracula himself?

Turning onto your other side, you reached out and gently gripped your whip. Its old presence brought you a small comfort.

Chances were, you don’t think you’d have it in you to fight Alucard yourself.

Just like how you didn’t want to fight Dracula, just a little different in reasoning.

Would Alucard even listen if you tried to tell him Dracula didn’t want to kill humans? That is, if you even got Dracula to agree?

No, you doubted it would be that simple or easy.

Perhaps you could just stay out of it? Or at least try talking to him?

“Hah, am I really debating this?” You whispered to yourself, thumb running over some of the grooves of the whip.

You hadn’t even talked to Dracula yet about him leaving humanity alone, and here you were, thinking ahead as if you already accomplished such a feat.

Heaving a sigh, you slid the pillow out from under your head, and placed it on your face with a groan.

The weight of the world was still very much on your shoulders. Even if you didn’t have to fight Dracula now, you still had a job to do.

Protect humanity.

But…

Was it really that bad you were hoping you didn’t have to fight Dracula to do that?

Not just because of your complicated feelings, but would it not be better just to have him be neutral again?

If you did end up fighting and killing him, he would simply come back within a hundred years! It didn’t matter what you would do, fate would no doubt put your family through the ringer once more to defeat him.

Or at least have someone step up to the challenge if not your own family. Perhaps someone from the Morris clan?

Though, if you could make him no longer a threat because he wants to stay out of it, would that not be better for everyone involved?

Of course, you could only hope it would be that easy. Your life had never been simple, and it loved to screw you over time and time again.

However, you found some of your mother’s words echoing in your head.

‘Expect the worst, but hope for the best.’

Moving the pillow on your face to the side, you sighed.

“I can do that. I guess.”

You sat in silence for a few moments, idly listening to the thunder rolling overhead. You still couldn’t get over how this castle seemed to have a peaceful ambience your own home seemed to lack.

A buzz brought you out of your thoughts, and your eyes narrowed.

Hand flinging to the side of the bed, you patted the sheets until you felt the familiar shape of your phone. Picking it up, you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

‘When are u coming home? Dad’s not happy.’

Your mouth went dry, and you felt your body beginning to shake.

That’s right. You have been gone for several days now. It was only a matter of time before someone at home contacted you, asking where you were.

“Figures I couldn’t even have a week…” you mumbled, staring at your screen with badly veiled disdain.

Putting your phone down, you ignored the urge to puke your guts up. Just thinking of heading back to your family home made you nauseous.

Especially if Jason was growing upset you were gone.

“Upset if I’m there. Pissed if I’m away. Bah.”

It wasn’t incredibly surprising. Anytime you had injuries or were sick, you were always expected to ‘pick up the slack’, as they’d say.

Maybe they’d leave you be for a day or two at best if it was noticeably bad. However, you never got your hopes up, especially when it came to injuries.

In their eyes, if you could walk, you could work. If not doing the dirty jobs, then you could at least clean the house while they did the ‘real’ work.

A flare of irritation and anger rose in you.

Sure, you were always annoyed with them, but especially now after everything you have been through over the past few days.

Nearly dying because of your step family, having a manic episode and accidentally reviving your nemesis, said nemesis then caring for you better than anyone has before since your mother passed…

And… you had admittedly enjoyed the past few days, even if you were in enemy territory.

Dracula kept a slight distance with you, that much was obvious. It was clear, however, he was doing so for your comfort.

Even then, he still regularly checked up on you every few hours. You could technically even leave if you wanted, he said he would not stop you or hurt you for doing so.

Just yesterday, he had offered to bring you some books if you needed them, which you had declined.

It had shocked you more than anything that he was willing to offer entertainment, though you suppose you shouldn’t have been too surprised either. Declining had been a gut reaction from surprise, but you made sure to let him know you appreciated the offer.

You weren’t sure you could really even read anything he gave you, given you didn’t know what books he had. You would have had to see for yourself, and you didn’t want to bother him about it.

Though… It wasn’t like you could have gotten too much reading done with how much you had been sleeping and thinking. The few times you did need a distraction, you still had your phone too, which miraculously still somehow had a data connection.

Given how you were healing though… You wouldn’t mind a book now. A bit too late to ask for it though, you supposed.

Letting out a shaky breath, you looked at your phone once more.

The text almost seemed to taunt you.

They wanted you back, after hurting you, nearly killing you. All over ‘training’. As if nothing had happened.

Granted, you did tell them as you left to pretend it never happened. You think. Your memory of that fight was a bit hazier than you would like to admit.

Probably bloodloss.

Still…

Did they think they could just make demands? Just like that?

A part of you wanted to call Seth, the one who had texted you, and chew him out. Tell him about the hell you endured because of them, and how you almost died because they didn’t give a single shit about you.

How you wanted to rip into them, unload every single thing they have done to piss you off and ruin your life.

How a part of you wanted to go home and cut them to pieces slowly and-

You froze.

The grip on your phone was tight, and you felt your breathing grow heavy.

Carefully, you put your phone down on the bed, and took a deep breath.

You were angry, but you hated when those thoughts began to show. It never led to a good place mentally when you thought about killing them.

It wouldn’t be worth it.

Even if you did feel a sick satisfaction from it, which you know you would have, you would still suffer.

Being a Belmont only protected you from the law so much. The city you lived in didn’t know what went on behind closed doors. To the city, your little step family did everyone a favor by keeping the ‘beasts’ away.

If you killed them, you would be arrested. You would lose everything you worked hard for.

Your home, your heirlooms, your whip.

Sure, you could survive on the run for a while… But it wouldn’t be worth it.

The whole reason you put up with those jackasses was because you wanted to keep your home safe. You couldn’t exactly do that if you couldn’t go home.

Life really sucked right now.

But at least… you found temporary peace.

Idly, you clutched your phone again, wondering if you should answer Seth, or ignore him like you wanted to.

Given just looking at your screen and seeing the message made pricks of anxiety and frustration bloom in your chest, you decided to ignore it for now.

You couldn’t ignore it forever. Things would get worse if you did, and you already dreaded what the house must look like since you’ve been gone.

No doubt Jason’s attitude has been foul, you wouldn’t be surprised if he took it out on your home, just for you to clean up.

Scowling, you let out a small noise of annoyance.

After another moment, you decided to sit up. The soft sheets slid to your hips, and you winced as some weight shifted to a wound.

Hand twitching, you resisted the urge to open your bandages to look at your injuries.

Most were beginning to heal rather nicely since Dracula had brought you a potion. However, you still had a long way to go before you were fully recovered.

At the very least, maybe it wouldn’t be that long if Dracula truly intended to keep having potions made for you.

Yet another concept that floated around in your head that still managed to surprise you.

It’s almost funny. If you had been any other Belmont, you were certain you probably would have been mocked and tortured for having injuries. You doubted he would have extended the same kindness as he had you.

This didn’t help the fuzzy feeling in your chest when you thought about him, in an odd way.

You were special to Dracula, at least right now you were.

He wanted you alive for now. Alive and well.

Wringing your hands close to your chest, you tried not to sigh again.

What were you going to do?

As you tried once again to think over your options, your eyes caught your figure in one of the mirrors in the room. One near a dresser meant to look over outfits, you presumed.

Though you couldn’t help but scrunch up your face when you noticed your reflection.

You looked awful. Felt it too, even if your injuries were doing better.

Despite this, Dracula still treated you so gently, and with respect.

As you were deep in your musings, you ended up jumping a bit when you heard the familiar brisk knock at your door.

You knew right away who it was, having memorized just how particular Dracula had been knocking on your door.

Perhaps it was on purpose? A knock you would grow to recognize in case someone else knocked on your door?

Regardless, you didn’t keep him waiting, telling him to come in.

You would admit though, you never got over the slight surprise you had as he entered your room each time.

His presence alone was intimidating, even as he made a point to try and not be as such. How he seemingly called for attention as he entered a room, even if he didn’t utter a word.

It was both impressive, and you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it.

Nervous? Sure. Into it? You had to mentally smack your brain a little to avoid your thoughts going in that direction as he was in the same room as you-

“Good afternoon.” He spoke as he closed the door behind him, his voice deep and quiet. You know for a fact he had a voice that could lead an entire army, or gently put you to sleep.

A dangerous voice, one you liked a bit too much.

-Nodding to him, you gave him a small smile. It was strange, how relaxed you were becoming around him with each visit.

A part of you still yearned for it to never end.

But your phone weighed heavy in your hand, a solid reminder you couldn’t stay. Unspoken consequences idly rolled around in your head, which was beginning to make you grow queasy.

Dracula’s eyes seemed to see through you, and you wondered if he could read your mind with how his gaze seemed to look at your very soul.

You certainly hoped he couldn’t read your mind, otherwise things would be pretty awkward with all the suggestive thoughts you have been mentally fighting off with a bat that floated through your head.

Thankfully, Dracula didn’t say a thing about that, simply sitting down in the chair you decided to keep next to your bed.

“Are you feeling well? Has the potion helped?”

He asked, bringing you out of your thoughts.

Heart pounding slightly, you smiled a bit wider.

“Yes! It has helped tremendously. My head no longer feels as if someone hit it with a hammer, and I’m mostly just sore at this point.”

Granted, that didn’t mean you were out of the woods yet. Your pain tolerance was higher than most. Just because you felt better, didn’t mean you were greenlit to go do any serious activities or hunting.

Despite your inner musings, Dracula seemed pleased.

“Good, good…”

He then reached into his cloak, and pulled out what you assumed to be another bottle filled with potion.

It had been a little while since he gave you that first dose, so it should be safe to consume more..

Potions could be taken in large quantities, but it wasn’t exactly recommended.

The concoctions filled a person’s stomach, but didn’t offer any nutritional value other than healing wounds. It could even make a person sick if consumed too much without a break or food in between major doses.

Not that it stopped you before. You didn’t exactly have the luxury of being picky at home when constantly fighting illness and injury. Growing sick from too much potion was a risk you often had to take.

You decided to keep that thought to yourself as you took the bottle from Dracula’s hands.

“If your healing continues to progress, you should be completely healed in less than a week. Maybe even sooner once those other potions are finished.” Dracula spoke, drawing your attention back to him.

A week? You didn’t think you had that kind of time. You’d probably need to be home at most, three days from now.

Dracula gave you an odd look.

“Is that not satisfactory?”

You blinked, eyes widening slightly.

“Oh, no! That… that isn’t the issue at all. It’s… It’s just…” you stumbled over your words, running a hand through your hair as you tried to figure out how to explain without seeming unthankful.

Dracula remained patient, letting you figure out what to say. His gaze was cool, yet curious.

A part of you also swore you saw amusement as you fumbled your sentences together.

Nervously, you began to wring your hands together, and fiddle with your shirt.

“…I just… I’m uh, I’m expected to be home soon…”

Dracula raised a brow at your small explanation.

Immediately, you also felt the temperature of the room drop. Enough to make the hair on your neck stand on end, and send a shudder down your spine.

You hoped you hadn’t pissed him off by saying that…

The gaze on Dracula’s face shifted, going from barely concealed amusement, to something… darker.

Old instincts began to wake, and you seriously hoped this wouldn’t be the end of the small little bit of peace you have had up until now.

The last thing you wanted was a fight.

An intimidating silence took hold of the room, and you forced yourself not to reach for your whip out of nerves. After a few moments, Dracula then broke said silence.

“This home of yours…”

He leaned close to you, his eyes bearing into your own.

“…Is it the same place where you received these injuries?”

For a moment, it felt as if the wind had been taken out of your sails.

“…Huh?”

You were confused. Was he… not upset with you?

Dracula tilted his head, those same ruby eyes flickering over where you were still injured.

“Forgive me for being presumptuous, but is that not where you were attacked? Was it within your own home?”

The question had your eyes wide.

“I uh-“

Dracula leaned back, though the odd feeling in the room didn’t settle.

“Of course, you don’t have to answer. But if I am right, is it that pressing to return before you are fully healed to handle whoever, or whatever dealt such blows?”

His questions had you pausing, and you felt your mouth run dry.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Dracula seemed apprehensive about you returning home where you were hurt.

Almost as if he cared.

The very thought had your mind whirring in overdrive. If someone had told you months ago that Dracula himself seemed to care about you, you would have laughed in their face.

But with everything he has done for you… was it really that far fetched?

If anything, you could at least argue he’d hate to see all the hard work done in healing you go to waste, but you were certain it was more than that.

Again, not good for your conflicted feelings on Mr. Lord of the Night himself.

Rubbing the back of your head with a sigh, you felt yourself droop a little.

“It’s… complicated, but yes. I have to return home soon, or things might get messy.”

The very thought of what might happen if you disappeared too long left a sour feeling in your stomach.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and he held your gaze for a few moments.

“…I assume you can’t put this off then? That it must be urgent?” He asked, his voice low.

Nodding, you tried to keep holding his gaze, not wanting to seem weak about it.

“Unfortunately. I… I risk a lot if I wait too long.”

Dracula’s eyes narrowed on you, before he closed them with a sigh.

“Like I have mentioned before, you are my guest here. You are free to leave at any point you wish, nor are you to be attacked as you do so. However…”

Your head tilted slightly, heart picking up at the end of his sentence. However…?

“Are you… certain this is wise? That there is nothing else that can be done?”

Shaking your head, you finally looked away.

“…Will you be hurt again?”

You stayed silent, telling Dracula all he needed to know, even if you refused to elaborate.

Why bother making an empty promise? Even if you don’t get hurt this time when you head home, what about the next? You knew all too well it was practically a waiting game until you were sick or injured again.

With your silence, the room somehow became increasingly colder.

Daring to look up, you were surprised to see the red of his eyes glowing slightly, much like how he had found you.

He really didn’t seem to like the implications you left him with.

But what could you say?

‘Yeah, my step family might try to beat the shit out of me or leave me the rotten leftovers to eat, or even make me do the yucky missions. No doubt I’ll be injured or sick again by the end of the month!’

Yeah… that probably sounded a bit pathetic. Some Belmont you were, allowing your own ‘family’ to use you as a punching bag.

Dracula eventually let out a sigh, and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He looked frustrated. Or worried? You couldn’t be too sure.

A moment passed. Then another. You weren’t entirely sure what to say.

Another sigh left his lips, and when he moved his hand to look at you, his eyes briefly glowed once again, before returning to their same ruby red they were before.

The room remained cold, though the look in his face wasn’t quite as scathing or irritated.

“Very well then. It seems this is personal and important to you. Whenever you wish to leave, I will personally escort you out of the castle.”

A part of you grew warm and fuzzy at that. And they say chivalry is dead.

However, before you could bask in that warm, fuzzy feeling, his voice rang out once more.

“Before you leave however, we have much to discuss.”

You blinked.

“Huh?”

As if a switch had been flipped, his entire posture seemed to shift.

His back was up straighter, and he crossed his legs. He then rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, resting his head on his fist.

His eyes seemed to sharpen as his gaze then zeroed in on you.

Your mouth went dry.

It was as if his entire demeanor changed.

Hair on your neck stood on end, and out of nowhere, it was as if a stone settled uncomfortably in your stomach.

“You had mentioned wishing to talk back when I was… imprisoned. If you are going to leave, I imagine you would wish to discuss this before you do so.”

You felt your blood run cold.

Ah. That.

Now you understood why his demeanor had changed so much in a matter of seconds.

No longer were you just talking to Dracula, your polite host.

You were now discussing terms with Dracula, King of the Night.

[magiccath]

Every Word

Tenth Doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which two idiots who believe their love is unrequited finally admit their feelings for each other

A/N: My old account got accidently deleted so I'm using it as an opportunity to rework some of my older fics.

Sometimes, you were so distracting to the Doctor. Often, you weren’t even trying to be. You just were. Your existence was enough to make him forget what he was doing. Like, right now. 

You were sitting in the TARDIS control room, a book in hand. You leaned casually back against the console, one foot crossed over the other. You bit your thumbnail anxiously as your eyes darted across the pages. Whatever the story was, it had you fully engaged. 

He loved how focused you were - like the book was the most interesting thing in the whole ship. Your head was bent over the pages, causing your hair to fall in your face slightly. He had to resist the urge to reach over and brush the strands away from your eyes. 

He was supposed to be fixing the console. Even if he wasn’t doing that, he should be doing things that weren’t staring at you. He couldn’t help but feel that it was wrong, looking at you like this. He shouldn’t be as enamored with you as he was. 

He ran his hands over his face, tugging slightly. He needed to snap out of it. You shifted slightly, the motion causing his eyes to wander back to you. It was so hard to look away. 

Sensing his eyes on you, you peeked out from behind your book. The Doctor turned a deep scarlet and whipped his head away from your direction, pretending to act busy. You chuckled lightly to yourself and returned to your book. 

The Doctor couldn’t help himself, his eyes drifted over to you again. And again. 

“Doctor?” You laughed when you caught him again. The man blushed and rubbed his neck anxiously. 

“Yes?” 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, setting the book down. The Doctor looked at you, confused. 

“You’re staring,” you elaborated, narrowing your eyes. 

He shook his head vigorously, mumbling something you couldn’t quite hear.  

“Do I have something on my face?” you rushed out, raking your hands across your face. 

“No, no,” The Doctor blubbered, “you look beautiful. You always look beautiful.” 

He regretted it immediately. He really shouldn’t have said that. 

You raised your eyebrow inquisitively. The Doctor was prone to rambles and word vomit, but they usually didn’t involve him calling you beautiful. This was uncharted territory, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t interested.

“I mean, you’re just naturally a really gorgeous person. More stunning than any star I have ever seen. Very possibly the most beautiful creature to exist. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone or something that matched your beauty,” the words came out in rushed clumps and you had to bite back a laugh. He was tripping over his words in an attempt to save face, but really he was just digging himself into a deeper hole. 

He averted his gaze and tugged at his hair. You found that he usually did that when the cogs in his brain were racing to keep up with his babbling mouth. 

“What I’m trying to say is there's nothing wrong with your face,” He gasped desperately, putting an end to his ramblings. 

You giggled quietly, trying to hide your laughter with a hand over your mouth. The Doctor chattered on all the time, but it was extremely rare you got to see him this flabbergasted. If you didn’t know better, you would think that he might actually have feelings for you. Ones that weren’t of the friendship variety, that is. 

“Thank you,” You grinned. The Doctor could feel his hearts melting. The minute you flashed him that smile he knew he was a goner. He loved your smile and even more, he loved being the cause of your smile. 

“You’re quite handsome yourself,” you smirked before walking to the other side of the room, averting the Time Lord’s gaze.

You didn’t want to ever admit out loud that you found the Doctor attractive. It’s not that you were ashamed of it. Practically everyone fancied the Doctor, he was just that kind of bloke. Rather, you couldn’t imagine him viewing you as more than a companion. But the way that he had been rambling on only a few minutes ago suggested otherwise…

The two of you never really bantered like this. Is that what this was? Was the Doctor flirting with you? The mere thought of it left you shaky and breathless. It felt too good to be true. 

The Doctor was shocked by your compliment, the words leaving him motionless. His reaction left you scared that you had gone too far, so you busied yourself with the numerous buttons on the console in front of you. Idly, you traced your fingers across them. 

“Really?” The Doctor asked, wide-eyed. You smiled to yourself. He could be so daft sometimes.

“I suppose so,” you said, finally lifting your eyes to meet his. Your words made the Doctor light up, a wide grin quickly taking over his face. 

“I’m quite fond of you, y’know?” You blushed, turning your head back towards the console. 

“I’m quite fond of you as well,” He said, moving closer to you. 

“Insanley fond,” you added. “You might even be my favorite person,” you shook your head.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, taking your hand in his. 

“I am?” You asked, genuinely shocked. 

“Of course! Have you met yourself?” 

You threw your head back laughing, the action making the Doctor smile to himself. 

“I love you,” he smiled adoringly, his wide toothy grin igniting a warmth in your stomach. You blushed and looked away, his gaze feeling insanely heavy.

“I- I mean... Uh,” He stammered, suddenly embarrassed by his confession. 

“Me too,” you interrupted his bumbling thoughts, looking up at his tall form. The Doctor stopped his blubbering and looked down at you. He swallowed anxiously, the action making his Adam’s apple bob aggressively. His eyes darted across your face, settling on your lips multiple times. 

“As more than a friend,” he whispered. 

“As more than a friend,” you repeated with a smile.

The Doctor's eyes darted from your eyes to your lips and back, silently asking for permission. You nodded gently, the motion hardly noticeable. It was all the invitation he needed to grasp your face in his hands, delicately leaning in. He hovered for a few seconds, still giving you time to pull away. 

You sighed with frustration, grabbing his tie desperately and using it to pull his lips into yours. 

The Doctor was stunned at first but quickly relaxed into the kiss. His hands draped around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him. 

Your own hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling with the messy brown strands. You sighed deeply, the warm feeling in your stomach spreading across your body. 

The Doctor smiled against your lips, unable to contain his joy. 

After a moment, you pulled apart to gasp for air, your breaths coming out in quick pants. With red faces and lips plumped from the kiss, you smiled at each other before letting out a lighthearted laugh. His thumb trailed lightly across your bottom lip, the gesture gentle and loving. You ran your fingers along the seams of his suit, tracing the familiar lines. 

Still not getting enough of you, the Doctor plastered kisses across your face. He kissed your cheeks, forehead, chin, and collarbone lightly before landing on your lips again. This kiss was softer, more delicate. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. You let out a relaxed sigh and danced your fingers across the nape of his neck. 

“I meant every word,” He whispered, which made you laugh. 

“So did I,” you smiled up at him, before pulling him back in for another kiss.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

*wobbles into frame* Hi maggots it's me, it's Asmi, the Good Omens Mascot or something, wait you know that, I'm sorry I'm delirious.

I finished reading Friday from the Good Omens book. It was hilarious (Shadwell hating all Southerners and by inference living on the North Pole PLEASE) but what I mainly remember is Crowley being mentioned on the second=to-last page of the chapter and me instantly swooning.

Like. All it requires is a mention. Seven letters and I'm a goner. I'm such a fool for Crowley.

Who is also a fool, by the way, both him and Aziraphale are fucking dumbasses not them funding Shadwell and his Smith army through sheer incompetence.

Anyway. Where have I been, you ask?

I have been very ill, I answer.

Oh, Asmi, surely not! you say in dismay, or you would if you were stuck somewhere before 1970 the year of our Lord and Saviour Bildaddy, which is clearly where my internal monologue is.

Worry not, maggots, I'm usually ill. This time it's a cold. As for Tommy the haematoma, he's still there, but I'm rather more occupied with the cold.

I haven't eaten proper food in around 20 hours. I haven't eaten any food in around... 14 hours. 15? 16? Why, you ask? I was asleep. And my intestines feel bleh.

I decided to drink flavoured sparkling water for energy, before realising too late that it is sugar-free and calorie-free. No energy from that, I'm afraid. Do I blame Famine? Yes, Sable, I'm blaming you.

*slurps the soda anyway* Hnnngk. I love you all.

[anetherealpoetess]

a rings of power haladriel spoiler from a certified critic and my humble predictions for the finale:

so here is the full review from the critic, but it opens thus:

Deep into Star Wars: The Last Jedi, shortly after defeating the Supreme Leader’s highly trained elite guards, the anti-hero Kylo Ren extends his hand out to the protagonist Rey and asks her to join him. Together, he says, they can rule the galaxy. He pushes her to confront her greatest fear and assures her that she means the world to him. On the whole, the scene is both epic and intimate. A similar moment occurs late in the second season of The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power as the series’ two most central forces clash in a swordfight. Sauron (Charlie Vickers) reiterates his desire to make Galadriel (Morfydd Clark) the queen of all Middle-earth. There’s nothing he wants more—and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to have her by his side.

on the one hand, okay; we really are repeating the ending of season one. on the other hand, i will always love sauron's obsession with galadriel being so overt a thing. the critic seemed to enjoy the confrontation (a running theme in reviews) but took umbrage with clunky dialogue undercutting the emotions, which ... yeah. the rings of power is intent on being a traditional high fantasy, but it's better when grounded in the modern (like sauron using darvo tactics and language on celebrimbor for chilling effect, rather than the stilted, pseudo-poetic declarations the show often attempts which does undercut the emotion.)

as for my predictions, i fear adar is mortally wounded and returns to galadriel her ring in the hope of helping her defeat sauron. i would love adar to live but fear he's a goner. i would also hope that galadriel keeps the nine rings, and next season is sauron hunting her down to retrieve them, but since the show seems intent on degrading galadriel at every turn, she probably gives up the nine to him during their confrontation (granting the incels permission to spend another two years whining about how everything is her fault) and flees.

i'm not here for the plot though. i am just here for the vibes, the beautiful villains, and sauron's profane and seductive worship of galadriel.

[princessbrunette]

just know john b spanks so hard if it came to a real punishment!!! all sympathetic as he bends you over his knee n bruises your pretty ass. that man is so disciplinary i'm a goner - 🍓

my tummy flipped . oh lord

like his voice stays that warm gentle timbre but he’s got a hand on your back to stabilise you where you’re bent over and he’d just bringing his hand down hard on your ass over n over so firm :(

“okay— see? knew my good girl was in there. keeeep countin’” all concentrated and focused on punishing u like his dick isn’t leaking in his pants !!

[stxrrynxghts]

I would like to sincerely apologize to every Yudhishthira hater. I was wrong to think that y'all were wrong. Y'all were visionaries, and I didn't realize it. I'm apologizing with folded hands to the anti-Yudhishthira community. Also, y'all are genuises for coining the name Yudhishit.

BECAUSE WHAT'S THIS BROTHER, WHAT'S THIS!

Had you given the bow to Keshava and become his charioteer in the battle, then Keshava would have slain the fierce Karna, like the lord of the Maruts bringing down Vritra with his vajra. It would have been better had you not been born in Pritha’s womb, but had been aborted in the fifth month itself. O prince! O evil-souled one! That would have been better than withdrawing from the field of battle.

This is a part from BORI CE, where Yudi is in the camp, and Arjun has come rushing to see him on day 17 after Yudi's fight with Karna, fearing that Yudi is a goner.

WHAT THE F IS HE SAYING TO HIS OWN BROTHER?!!!

For the unversed, a stillbirth occurs only after the fifth month of the pregnancy. Yudhishthira is basically hoping that his brother, his baby brother was stillborn.

...

DAMMIT YUDI IS IT POSSIBLE TO HATE YOU MORE THAN YOU ALREADY DO?!

Yudhishthira would be nothing without his brothers. He is such a shitty and ungrateful idiot, god. IMAGINE TELLING YOUR BROTHER THAT YOU WISH HE WASN'T BORN?!

AND WHY? BECAUSE ARJUNA DIDN'T FIGHT AND KILL KARNA BEFORE HE VISITED YUDI.

AND YUDI, THAT ENORMOUS POS, PROCEEDS TO SOB OVER KARNA FOR THE REST OF HIS ENTIRE LIFE, AFTER HE GETS TO KNOW THAT KARNA IS HIS BROTHER!

GOOD GOD!

I seriously thought he wasn't that bad of a man. That he did a mistake when he staked his brothers and wife, a mistake that he regretted for the rest of his life.

But seriously?

When has he ever shown regret? When has he ever apologized? He has only regretted KARNA's death.

He had two chances to stand for Droupadi. TWO. He didn't stand up in neither. And his brothers-

You can clearly see how much he loves them. If he can say this to Arjun, what guarantee is there that he won't say this to someone else?!

That too, just days after Arjun's son died trying to save YUDHISHTHIRA. LIKE THIS MAN doesn't even have a bit of guilt or remorse. Even after this incident, he never shows any remorse for what he said.

AND THE AUDACITY TO COMPARE THIS MAN WITH RAM-

RAM?! RAM, OUR RAM, WHO WOULD NEVER SAY THIS TO ANY OF HIS BROTHERS E. V. E. R.

RAM WOULD DIE BEFORE HE SAID ANY OF THIS TO HIS BROTHERS! RAM, WHO HAD A BREAKDOWN WHEN LAKSHMAN WAS HANGING BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH? THAT RAM?!

SOME IDIOTS THINK YUDI IS A BETTER BROTHER THAN BALARAM! GOOD GOD!

FIRST RAM, THEN OUR DAU?!!!!!!

GOD, HOWEVER ARJUN IS, IF YOU LIKE HIM, IF YOU DON'T, NO MAN, I REPEAT, NO PERSON DESERVES TO HEAR THESE WORDS FROM THEIR ELDER BROTHER, THEIR FATHER FIGURE. NO ONE.

EVEN DURYODHAN NEVER SAID THIS KIND OF STUFF TO HIS BROTHERS!

someone pls end my suffering.