#i remember the nights praying and begging

[castielsprostate]

god im feeling things and thinking thinkies after zeph's poem. brb gonna choke on tears rn

[godlesscity]

i think watching goodbye stranger changed me as a person

[vaspider]

Tonight, the night before Election Day 2024 in the US, I am thinking about my stepkid.

I am thinking about the phone call they made to us earlier this year, the one where they told us they'd gone to the hospital thinking they had appendicitis and found out, instead, that a zygote - a tiny splodge of cells - had taken up residence not in their uterus but in a fallopian tube. The one where our kid said they were waiting for their partner to arrive, hoped that said partner would get there before the docs took our kid back to terminate that pregnancy, & assured us that they'd be okay.

After all, our kid lives in a state with choice measures embedded in state law. That pea-sized blot of tissue doesn't have more right to their health than they do. Nobody is standing between them and their doctors. They made a decision, and that was that.

In this tiny tragedy, the kind that plays out dozens of times a day at minimum across the country, we only had to worry about the small risk of surgery complications. We didn't have to worry about Ken Paxton threatening to charge their doctors with felonies. We didn't have to think, "What if the hospital's legal team doesn't think an ectopic pregnancy - which is never ever viable and must be terminated before it kills our kid - is really that big of a deal?" We didn't have to worry that they live in a state where ob-gyns are fleeing, leaving few experts behind, as has happened in Idaho.

We didn't have to watch our kid vomit up black blood before dying the day after their baby shower the way Neveah's mom did. We didn't have to pray in a waiting room (while doctors took our kid apart until their heart stopped because the doctors waited too long out of fear of anti-choice laws) until a doctor came to tell us we'd have to bury them the way that Amber's mom did. We aren't having to pick up our lives after fully treatable miscarriage-related sepsis took them from us the way that Josseli's husband and daughter must.

I could go on for far, far too long.

Listen. If you are a single-issue non-voter and have already decided that "both parties are the same" or whatever other thing you've told yourself so you can sleep at night, smug and secure, then I can't reach you and I can't help you. But if you genuinely think that your votes don't matter, if you're just suffering from a bout of overwhelm or apathy, if you're too young to remember the 2000 election and can't see that Dobbs is a direct result of that election and every one that's followed, please, I am fucking begging you.

I didn't really talk about this when it happened. I mentioned something briefly, maybe. The posts I've started writing about it are still in my drafts. It was too fresh, too frightening. It's not any less frightening now, honestly - because if this week doesn't end with President Kamala Harris, we're headed for a national abortion ban, at the minimum - but it's not about how fucking frightened I was or how sad and bewildered I was to realize that my kid was going through this crisis in a nation more hostile to them than when I needed a D&C for an abortion at 21, in 1998.

It's about stopping this chapter of this fucking bullshit and at least finding some new fucking bullshit.

Vote, dammit.

Do the other work on Wednesday. Tomorrow, the work is to vote.

[prentissluvr]

three seconds — sam winchester

for : 200+ followers event [ closed ] ➖⟢ pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : fluff ➖⟢ cw : light swearing, accidental cuddling, casual mention of marriage between sam and reader (it's just dean teasing tho lol), idiots friends to lovers, kissing, barely edited ➖⟢ wc : 1.2K prompt : sleeping in the same bed, as they’d often do, but one morning waking up cuddling

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

to be truthful, this isn’t the first time you’ve woken up with yours and sam’s limbs entangled with each other’s. it’s just far less common for his hand to be so gloriously attached to your waist or his face to be tucked all sweet and warm into your neck. your own hands are placed in his hair and on his broad shoulder blade.

waking up like this is heaven; first, in the moments before you can process exactly what is happening, and second, once you realize and can bask in the splendor of having him so intimately close and vulnerable with you. then it comes crashing down as you remember that this isn’t quite how it’s supposed to be, and that you’ll never, not for a moment, be able to get this feeling out of your head, your body.

which means every moment after you untangle yourself from him will be full of a pure, undying, taunting want, maybe even need, to have him like that again. such a feeling is a general inconvenience as one considers that sam is your best friend, that he and his brother are just about all you have, and that you’d rather die than lose them to the fact that you’re in love with him. so clearly, it’s better he never knows, it’s just that constantly thinking about cuddling with him tends to lead to you making heart eyes at him or your cheeks flushing hot when he looks at you a moment too long.

then there’s the realization that sam is still asleep, the steady rhythm of his breath tickling your neck is both comforting and terrifying all at once. what if he wakes and jerks away, uncomfortable with your proximity? should you push him away before he even realizes the position you’re in? it’s not as if sam doesn’t enjoy physical affection; he pretends he doesn’t, but you’re convinced that he’s a cuddlebug at heart. maybe that’s an overly cute way of putting it, but you can feel how much he loves hugs, how much he enjoys having his head in your lap when you get a rare movie night. you’re just worried that this is too much, too close for even him.

and yet, you’re feeling selfish, because what if you never get him like this again? so you close your eyes again and just revel in the way it feels to have the tip of his nose pressed to your neck and his forehead against your jaw. his hands on you, so steady and sure in his sleep. his hair, soft between your fingers and the muscle of his back under your palm. his leg, tucked between yours. just the weight of him, pressed against you all solid and real and almost immovable until he wakes.

you hear dean stir a few feet away and you pray he won’t be able to tell you’re not asleep. breath even and eyes still gently closed, you hear dean move about, mumbling to himself. he’s digging around in a bag, pulling something out. then you feel him move closer and you swear he’s hovering at the foot of the bed.

then you hear a click, like that of a camera shutter, and you realize dean’s taken a picture of the two of you like this. pictures of the three of you are rarer, and dean being the one to take it means it’s special. you suppose blackmail is special in its own way and beg to no one that dean didn’t hear your breath hitch as you realize this moment is now immortalized by a picture that dean’ll print out someday and shove in your faces to make fun.

then dean’s mumbling to himself again, now close and loud enough for you to make out his words. “these two,” he sighs, tone practically chastising as if he sees something glaringly obvious, but the both of you can’t seem to quite get there. “i swear, the heart eyes from across the room, the longing gazes. god, they’ll be the death of me.” 

he really, truly thinks you’re asleep. he talks like this when he doesn’t know you can hear him. though usually not about you and sam, not like this. “they’re both such idiots. idiots in love,” he laughs humorlessly to himself, then turns away, stuffing the camera back in the bag he dug it out from. “maybe i should lock them in a closet,” he considers, voice so low you can barely catch his words, “see who caves first. then they’ll probably only thank me for that or the puke-inducingly cute photo once they’re married, those ungrateful asses. kids these days.” he lets out a huff of breath as he heads to the bathroom, seemingly done with his ranting about … about what? you and sam being in love with each other? what the hell was he saying, married? you and sam? you have to hold back from letting out a lovesick sigh.

you’re so caught up turning dean’s words over in your mind that only sam’s hand lightly squeezing your side brings you back to the present. your eyes shoot open and you pull your hand out of his hair. sam parts from you, barely. how long has he been awake? you’re almost too scared to look at sam, who hasn’t even attempted to untangle himself from you. he’s still got his hand on your waist and his leg tucked between yours and your eyes catch his without you meaning to. it’s always like that; your eyes will wander until they find his face, every time. it’s habit, instinct, unavoidable.

he looks at you long, and something about his pretty eyes turned green from the morning light and the color of the sheets keeps you holding his gaze, taking him in as he does you.

when sam finally speaks, his voice is hushed, but there’s this barely contained joy to it, begging to be released. “think we should save him the trouble?” the playfulness in his voice tugs at the corner of your lips. when he sounds happy, you can’t help but feel that way.

“of?” you ask, thinking you know what he means, but wanting to be sure.

“of locking us in a closet. sounds like a bit of a hassle, if you ask me,” he smiles at you, and his words plus the sight of his dimples has got you grinning without restraint. you wonder again how long sam was awake, but completely without apprehension this time. all the two of you needed was a few playful words exchanged, and now you know. though you wouldn’t have without dean’s unwittingly overheard grumbles, so you supposed you will have to thank him after all.

“i don’t know,” you say with a false air of careful thinking, “seems like it could be fun, y’know? it’s been too long since we’ve played a good trick on dean, don’t you think?”

sam doesn’t have an answer for that because he’s been too busy staring at the way your lips move, still pulled into a smile as you talk. you take another good look at him and wonder, how in the world did i miss it? the way he looks at me?

if he doesn’t kiss you within three seconds flat, you’ll do it yourself. it takes him those three seconds exactly, and you move in such synch it’s possible that your lips meet right in the perfect middle of the barely-there space between you.

[lokisgoodgirl]

A Royal Audience: The Rite

Chapter 1 Masterlist for The Rite is here A link to my full Masterlist is here Summary: (1) You, an Asgardian court nobody, fall asleep in the palace baths and have an unconventional introduction to the elusive Loki Odinson. (w/c 3.7k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Loki x female reader. Smut. Language. Voyeurism.

Water splashes and your legs fly up, floating out into the murk of torchlit water. Bracing against the stone edge, you glance over your shoulder with a blossoming horror. The curved arch reveals the glittering lights of Asgard below; mountains which had glowed with low-afternoon light when you’d settled in the palace baths now cloaked in darkness. Why did no one wake me? It's forbidden for anyone but the Royal family to be in the baths after sundown. And the penalties are severe.

Surely more of a guideline than a rule, you think optimistically as you get your bearings. Panic twists in your chest. Surely Odin can’t imprison every member of the court who dozes off in the hot springs.

Heaving yourself onto the side, you shiver in the immediate chill. The loss of warmth is like the absence of a lover’s touch; leaving their bed on a winter night. You’re surprised you can remember what that feels like. A breeze blows through the atrium as you grasp for the robe you discarded earlier. It sticks to clammy skin, thick droplets seeping though the fabric as you gaze longingly at the towels lined up at the side. No time. But as you flick soggy tendrils of hair from beneath the collar, your ears prick. No. Footsteps. There’s only one doorway to the baths. A security thing. One hallway – in and out. Your eyes dart frantically at limited options. Tall, imposing pillars encircle the room. One of them will have to do. All you can do is pray the guards just take a quick peek around the door. The squeak of your bare feet on the floor fades just as your wet skin meets marble. You cover your mouth, eyes screwing shut. The door swings open, creaking on ancient hinges. “Prepare the oils,” someone commands. A dark, enunciated order which seems to settle in the steam.

A shudder runs down your spine. That voice. Another one replies in hushed reverence, flopping sandals scooting over the marble floor while bottles rattle. “Haste,” the first growls.

You clutch the flimsy robe tighter to your chest. The first time, you might have been mistaken. But as the irritated syllables of that solitary word settle, there’s no mistaking it. Prince Loki. If you were asked to swear in front of the Norns that you’d never envisioned the dark prince as you touched yourself in the dead of night, thought of his forbidden curls twisting through your hair as you rode him, the timbre of his moans as you choked on his cock – you’d be a fucking liar. I mean, who hasn't? But this? This is beyond the pale. Even conjured from your sickest fantasies. This is wrong. This is...a death sentence.

And yet, you find yourself edging closer to the side of the pillar.

Should you announce yourself? Grovel? Retreat out the door with garbled apologies, bowing with your face lowered and begging for your life? Probably.

But it’s too late now. Far too late. And if you’re going to end up in the dungeons, as on some level you always suspected you would, at least this image will sustain you.

Loki Odinson stands all limbs and and length at the edge of the baths. From emerald-encrusted slippers to the crown of dark waves spilling over his shoulders – he’s perfect; unmistakeably royalty even in his lounge-wear. What little there is of it.

White steam rolls above the water, as sheer and flawless as the chiffon robe that moulds to his body. The faint hue of his skin shows through the forest-green material, fingers toying with the tie circling his hips as he casts a scathing glance to the servant whirling a phial of oil between his fingers. “Tis’ ready, my lord” the servant says. The prince grunts, letting the sash fall open.

You hold a breath as the garb falls down the sinewy bulge of his shoulders, deep carves of tricep muscle illuminated in torchlight. You’ve never seen him so close; never had time to admire the stark beauty emanating from every angled inch of him. Without the distracting glint of his armour it’s almost enough to make your eyes water. Glimpses of him had been in passing, a stolen gawk before you bowed you head and he moved quickly through the great hall past the other courtly nobodies.

The luxuriously weaved material slides over his skin, folding and rippling as it drips from his fingertips. It shimmers in low flamelight and he rolls his shoulders back as it drops, abdominals clenching. You clench along with them as the robe pools around his ankles. Your palms sweat against the pillar, fingers beginning to claw as Loki steps into the water. He rakes his hair back, tilting his chin to the ceiling as he puts one foot ceremonially in front of the other. Making an entrance, even without an audience. Or so he thinks.

The servant stands obediently by the bath’s edge, staring ahead as the prince’s thighs flex with each effortless step, liquid lapping around his knees.

As much as you try not to look, sort of, to preserve some sliver of dignity for the god, saliva wells under your tongue. His perfect cock bobs between his legs. It’s true what they say, you think in a daze. His pubic hair is an immaculate shadow. Even his balls are perfect.

Loki sinks down, dipping long hair back in the water before seating himself in the opposite spot you’d occupied minutes ago. Jet hair plasters to his skin like tar, droplets of water clinging to his torso. “Begin,” he mutters with an air of annoyance. The servant complies, pouring the rose-tinted phial into his hand and beginning to massage the god’s scalp.

You watch in utter beguilement as Loki’s head is nudged from side to side, indecent moans of pleasure snaking from his throat as the favoured servant carries out his work. Thin drips of oil roll down the prince’s brow, catching the light. He tips his head back, jawline pointed to the ceiling like the blade of an axe. He lets out a whimper of pleasure.

You press your lips together so hard it hurts as a crease appears in the god’s brow, his eyes shut as the man kneeling behind turns the attention to his shoulders. The oil spreads down the thick of his neck, to the crevices of his collarbone; glistening. “Oh-h, yes…there-” the god growls, a gnawing groan shaking the air. For the first time, you notice the unmistakable heat of arousal sliding between your thighs. Squirming, you think briefly about looking away. You decide against it. In the blink of an eye, Loki’s mood changes like a winter wind. He leans forward, an abrupt tsk punctuated by the wave of a hand. “Leave me,” he demands. The servant looks visibly confused, fingers poised in the air above tense muscle. Loki turns expectantly over his shoulder. “Need I say it again?” he purrs menacingly. It was quietly brutal. You smirk in spite of yourself. Classic Prince Loki, you muse. You never dreamed you’d get to see it in person.

The man shakes his head, shuffling to his feet. He shuffles out the room with little bows and letting the ancient latch clunk into place. Your breaths quicken and the sudden gravity of the situation settles like a boulder in your throat. Frozen, you watch Loki eye the door a moment longer before resting back against the stone with a lazy sigh.

Long fingers run through the slick of his hair while water slops around his nipples. Gods, how you want to pull one between your teeth as you pump his- “Aren’t you cold?” His voice was an arrow. Sharp, targeted, tipped with venom. It’s hit spreads through your body, white noise filling your brain, blood thundering in your ears.

“Aren’t you cold?” he repeats, sterner this time. You realise with horrifying clarity that Prince Loki of Asgard, as eusive and unknowable as faraway galaxies to a mouse, is talking to you. And he’s naked. And you’re definitely spending the next decade in the dungeons. If you’re lucky.

With shaking hands, you step out from behind the pillar. The game is up. But to your credit, you have closed your eyes, one palm shielding them in a last ditch attempt at salvation. “Your Majesty I apologise I...fell asleep in the water, and woke up after sundown- the laws, and you came in...I didn’t know where to go- what to do-please have mercy...” You squint between parted fingers to gauge his reaction, hoping that the last threads of your long-gone innocence are believable. The prince curls a finger to his lips, covering a smirk. “I did not look upon your majesty...” you lie. The god’s eyes run from your ankles to your face, a devious smile playing at one side of his mouth. His lips part, chin tilting upwards, tongue resting behind his upper teeth before the perfect enunciation of, “Liar.”

“I did not look upon-” you stammer, lowering your hand and staring at the floor.

“-Oh, stop it.” Loki says. It’s followed by a melodic chuckle ricocheting around the marble walls. You glance up. One elbow rests on the stone behind him, water rippling against his chest. He tilts his head, raising the other arm out the water. “Never let it be said the God of Mischief is not merciful,” he rumbles coyly. A solitary finger beckons. “You must be cold,” he repeats for the third time, softer. “I assure you the baths are warmer than the dungeon, if that was your intent for the remainder of the evening.”

Each step feels like an eternity as you let yourself be drawn forward by weak flesh. You can’t take your eyes off his, thundering silently into your soul like a sexual storm. “I am not to the dungeons, then?” you ask cautiously. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

He winks, a perfectly timed droplet of oil falling from his chin to the water below with a thick plop. It makes your stomach flip. He stiffens suddenly, raising his palm in a ‘stop’.

“You may leave now...if you wish,” he says. An aura of stiff formality settles on his expression.

This is the Loki you recognise from feast days and speeches which ring around the towering cloisters of the great hall. The palm held upright softens to gesture to the other side of the pool. “Or you may stay, if you wish. Either way, sending such a flower to the dungeons to wilt and wither would surely be a greater crime than the one you have committed.”

He pauses. There’s a flash of pink as his tongue runs over his lips. His gaze drops to your fingers fidgeting nervously with the sash of your robe, still stained with watermarks from its hasty assembly. “Curiosity is only natural, one supposes,” he says.

“I didn’t mean to do it,” you reply quietly.

Loki’s eyes meet yours, one eyebrow rising. “Ah, but you did.” His voice is deeper, wisps of intrigue catching in every syllable. “In my experience, the path paved with mistakes leads to better stories. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You bite your lip. “Your Majesty are you...sure? I’m-” you glance towards the door, hesitating before you met the prince’s waiting stare, “-naked, under this.” Loki’s long index finger dips teasingly into the water, feigned surprise making his brows rise as he watches it sink beneath the surface. The lip twitches again as his digit skims, slow ripples pulsing out from his body. “Egalitarian, wouldn’t you say? Considering your recent education on my own state of undress.” Heat rises in your cheeks, matching the inexplicable confidence beginning to blossom in your belly. Loki smiles expectantly, resting both elbows casually on the ledge.

His lips form a soft o as your robe falls around your feet. You feel his stare roaming your body as keenly as though its his hands. Can he see the translucent sheen of arousal smeared down your inner thighs as you step into the pool? Possibly. Probably.

It’s true what they say about his body, about his temper, about his cock, after all. Why not his powers of perception?

The water licks against your skin, the thrill of this forbidden meeting making every hair on your body stand to attention. Pores tingle against the embrace of heat as you sink beneath the surface, perching on the flat stone seat beneath. The curve of your mounds bob above gently lapping water.

The same spot you’d been in earlier. But now, the view is entirely different.

You imagine that the archway behind you is a beautiful scene. Asgard’s moons would be shining, their light halo’ing your wetted hair against a blanket of stars. And yet, Prince Loki’s eyes never leave yours.

Although ten meters stretch between you, the whisper of his breath seemed to curl against your ear. You widen your legs beneath the water, immediately squeezing them closed again. Your lips purse, stifling a whine. “Your first royal audience, I gather?” Loki asks politely. You nod. This is madness.

Slowly, he shifts. One arm slips beneath the water, then two. His chin dips, observing you seductively from half-lidded eyes. “Why have I never seen you before?” The question hangs amidst the steam rolling over soft ripples.

“I find myself new at court, your Majesty” you hear yourself answer. It isn’t true. But it's better than the embarrassing reality. You're an invisible cog. “Liar,” he murmurs seductively. The corners of his eyes crease with mirth, a wet curl falling down to the side of his cheek. Somehow, your fingers find their way to your clit; hidden beneath the sweet-smelling veil of the baths.

“How can I have overlooked such a jewel in the midst of this grey wasteland?” “Wasteland?!” you scoff. It's bold, a peal of laughter escaping in spite of yourself. “Hardly.” The god cocks an eyebrow. “Despite my hyperbole, the sentiment remains. How did I miss you?”

There’s a moment of silence; anticipation choking the air. A suspicious disturbance begins to swell at the water by Loki’s mid-section and a chill of desire makes you shiver despite the temperate water; imagining those long, elegant fingers wrapping around that long, elegant cock. You began to toy with yourself, sparks of pleasure thrumming through your veins. Your shoulders began to roll in time with the pressure of your fingers. Unmistakeable. Breaths rise and fall in your chest, breasts bouncing lightly at the surface.

He grits, throat working as the straight lower line of his perfectly white teeth flash into view. The swell of water above his groin crests to a flurry; his deep, filthy exhales wrapping around your inhibitions and choking them. All pretence gone, you release the moan you’ve been holding.

Loki breaths out hard, a low ragged breath that seemed to part the steam caressing the water’s surface. “Mmm,” he grunts, neck stiffening. A vein at his throat stands hard and thick, straining as water began to splash against him from his abuse beneath. This is a scandal. You are a scandal. If anyone finds out, you’re finished...and yet. As the prince’s chin points to his glistening chest, wet from the splashback from fucking himself beneath the surface, you find you care not one jot.

His eyes darken, long lashes curled up to knitted brows. Loki’s lips are parted, tongue hovering and forming senseless words between laboured breaths. His cheekbones flash in the low light, soaking hair strewn over his milky skin. And always, his gaze is on you. The lofty, untouchable, inscrutable god that you’ve fantasised about is looking at you as he pleasures himself. Thinking about you as he sits across the water tugging his flawless cock. And if this is the shining, glorious moment which would burn out in a blaze of reputation-ruining glory to ash then so be it. Worth it. His dulcet moans of onanism grow louder, timing with your own. Only once do you tip your head back as you feel climax rear, a growled command of ‘look at me,’ through gritted teeth snapping you forward again.

If you’re ever deigned worthy to feel the prince inside you, have his marble body flush to your own in the throes of passion, feel his lustful praise hot in your ear– just once – you would die happy. But this? This could be enough. “S-so dutiful,” the prince moans, his shoulders juddering as he strangled the words. “B-brave,” he gasps. His brow furrows deeper with one last longing stare at your glistening neck and shoulders as you cum hard, a quiet mewl of his name echoing around the baths. It’s all you can do not to scream. “G-gods,” Loki chokes. Every muscle you can see in his body seems to tense, a thundering roar like ripping leather cascading from his throat. His mouth hangs open, grimacing to the atrium above. In the death of his cry, there’s silence but for the splash of water as the two of you compose yourself. Still flushed from orgasm, you push your hair back. The prince raises the hand that had been pleasuring himself out the water, inspecting a thick, white string that clings to his fingertips. He turns his gaze to you as he sucks the cum from his digits. God he’s fucking filthy, you think. I knew it. It takes every piece of willpower not to wade across the baths and lick it from his mouth. You bite your lip, matching his sultry demeanour and the prince’s eyebrow twitches. Your reaction is clearly to his satisfaction. “This has been amusing.”

He stands abruptly, breath stealing from your lungs as his entire body comes into view again. You aren’t prepared. The god’s cock is still hard. Long and perfectly formed, it’s earlier fairness now replaced with the blush of his work. Above, his abdomen glistens; pearled droplets of oily water running leisurely over muscled ridges. You open your mouth and close it again. Loki smiles. He turns and the toned meat of his ass shifts on his ascent up the short steps out the baths. With a click of his fingers, the robe and slippers he’d discarded are upon him once more. Your stomach drops.

“I didn’t tell you my name,” you blurt as he approaches the door. Prince Loki’s profile slices into view, the perfect arc of his bone structure lined over one broad shoulder in dancing torchlight. His eyes cast down and move to yours with theatrical precision.

“Your name?!” he purrs incredulously. “We must keep some mystery, surely.” And with the swirl of his robe and a thud of the ancient latch, he’s gone.

Loki’s stomach churns, emerald slippers feeling heavier with every step. He feels along the wall, blinking away the dizziness growing behind his eyes. Risky. Even for me. He pauses at the end of the corridor, steadying his breaths. There was something about her. Something which shattered any semblance of decorum he usually clung to in the presence of the court, however strange the situation. Her audacity. Gods, the look in her eyes as she brought herself to climax; pinning him under her gaze like a starving wretch at a feast. He stares at his feet, jewels throwing prisms from torchlight. “Brother?” Loki looks up, immediately rolling his eyes. “Spying on me? Truly you need to find something more wholesome to occupy your time, brother.” “Of course not. I intended to join you.” Loki’s stomach lurches as he notes the robe hanging off his brother’s shoulders, the plush red towels stacked in his glowering manservant’s arms. “No,” he snaps as Thor attempts to pass. The hand pressing against his brother’s chest is still wet, and he has a sudden hope it’s only water. “The temperature is not pleasing tonight. Tepid, at best. Trust me, brother.” “Is that so?” Thor asks, eyebrow rising. If he finds her in there, she’ll be punished. He won’t think twice before running to father like a dog. The thought wouldn’t usually cause him alarm but there it was again, that niggling feeling that greater fates were at play. He studies Thor’s face. "Trust me," Loki says. His brother sighs. “I trust you with very few things, Loki, but the temperature of bathwater is verily one of them.” He waves a hand and the servant scuttles away into the gloom. “In truth, brother, I hoped to speak to you about the Rite.” A hiss blows between Loki’s teeth, eyes darting to the side. “In my own time.” “Your own time?!” Thor stomps forward, making the torches rattle. “You’ve had five hundred years to find someone, Loki. Nine moons; that’s all you have until you must wait another five centuries for the alignment. Don’t you want to secure yourself in the succession? What if something were to happen to father? To me? The people of Asgard must be assured of your suitability.” “The entire thing is a farce. The fact that you succeeded, proves it.” Thor’s face darkens. “Don't speak of our sacred traditions that way. You know they’re in place for a reason.” A snort steals from Loki’s nostrils. “I have no doubts of my skill, I know I could rule Asgard’s people selflessly and with great enthusiasm; why must it be paraded in an inane peacocking which will make the high-lords wilt with inferiority?”

Silence hangs thick in the narrow corridor.

“A fact which makes your refusal to participate even more perplexing," Thor says, narrowing his eyes and yanking the sash at his waist in a way Loki assumes he thinks to be dramatic. "Nine moons, brother.”

As Thor's footsteps die away; he listens for splashing, for movement, for sneaking. But there’s nothing. He steps out the emerald slippers and pads back to the door, turning the handle with a final, furtive glance behind him.

He expects to see you draped nude over the chaise in the corner, or perhaps spread for him at the edge of the baths with hungry longing in your sharp eyes...but you’re gone. Loki frowns and stalks to the pillar which concealed you before. “Borr’s blood,” he hisses under his breath, scanning the room.

And then he sees it; something silken and knotted loops around the balcony pillars, glimmering in moonlight. He realises suddenly that the draping which normally billows in the evening breeze is gone. Loki smirks as he paces to the balcony and casts a cursory look over the edge. The makeshift ladder hangs to the level below. The royal laundry, if he’s not mistaken; the same hot spring source. “Nine moons,” he repeats quietly to the silence, rapping his knuckles against the marble twice before turning away with a smile.

💖Thanks for joining me for this lil journey! 🕯️Tags in comments x Read Chapter Two, Successional Pleasure HERE

[axelsagewrites]

Hey can I request a Aegon x Hightower!aunt reader?

where she's got this holier-than-thou attitude but secretly enjoys seeing Aegon lusts over her (even doing stuff on purpose to fuel his desire). And ultimately she humiliates him in some pleasurable way.

Aegon Targaryen*Pray For Me

Pairing: sub!aegon x f!reader

Word count: 1694

Warnings: a lot of blasphemy, religion, face riding, p in v sex, teasing, m!recieving oral, f!recieving oral, orgasm denial (male), sub aegon, dom reader, good boy, smut 18+

Masterlist here

Your sister was at her wits end, and you couldn’t blame her when you visited court for the first time. Your father was very determined to keep his youngest daughter away from the antics of court but when Alicent requested your presence as the Queen, he decided it was best not to argue.

“Impropriety is a sin, you know,” your voice was quiet, but it shut the whole table up when you spoke.

It was your first family dinner with the queen and her children. Aegon had arrived already tipsy and was being exceptionally loud. “You think me immoral? For having some fun?” he asked, drunkenly smiling as he leant forward.

Alicent let out a sigh and opened her mouth to speak but you spoke before she could, “I think punishment will find those who deserve it,”

“Whatcha gonna do?” he slurred, putting his elbows on the table which you glared at, “Spank me?” he teased.

You smiled sweetly at him and just as he went to sit back in you gave the table a quick jerk causing the wine, he reached for to spill across the table. The red liquid instantly covered his frame, “You bitch!” he jumped up as he tried to shake the wine of his tunic, “This is new!” his whines were almost drowned out by Heleana’s giggles and Alicent’s attempt to hide her laugh.

“If you squandered your money less this wouldn’t be a problem,” you said but it fell on deaf ears as he went to storm out the room.

-

You weren’t shocked when the guards informed your sister Aegon had taken to the silk streets after dinner. He was shocked to find you leaving his room as he got back, “You’re waiting for me?”  he smirked when he saw you, “Need me that badly?”

“You’re driving your mother mad,” you sighed, crossing your arms.

Aegon ignored you, his gaze instead lower to how your breasts threatened to spill from your dress, only exaggerated by your crossed arms. You glowered at him as you lowered them, “If you’re worried, pray for me,” he said as he stumbled to his chamber door.

You rolled your eyes as you walked away. However, you still vaguely heard his cries of ‘what the fuck’ when he discovered you’d taken all the wine from his chambers.

-

Each day went the same. Aegon did something that would make a septa blush, you reprimanded him, he hit on you, you made him regret it. “As if you’re perfect,” he’d scoff at you when no one else could hear, “Bet you’re up to all sorts when no one’s looking,” You internally smirked but would just remind him of the sins of the flesh eating away at his soul. He didn’t need to know the truth. Not yet.

Slowly he was beginning to learn, beginning to behave better, but no amount of your scolds would stop his eyes from wandering your frame. Hell, the one time he came to the sept Alicent nearly leapt for joy. You didn’t want to break it to her he’d knelt beside you and kept looking down your dress when he thought you couldn’t see.

You also weren’t willing to admit you’d enjoyed it.

One-night Aegon came to your chambers. He was drunk and begging for your touch, so you sent him away. Your blood went Firey hot however when Aemond later confessed to seeing Aegon in a brothel with a woman who may as well be your twin.

Maybe it was time to punish him on his level.

-

You wanted him to be sober for this. You wanted him to remember his mistakes. So, you waited in his chambers while he was out to morning sword practise. He opened the door with a heavy sigh and let out an even heavier. “What did I do now?” he groaned as he made his way to his wine.

“Leave it,” you said, your voice calm, “And sit down,”

“I’m really not in the mood for a lecture,” he huffed as he grabbed a chalice.

You tutted as you crossed the room, grabbing his wrist gently. Aegon span around, ready to argue, but you stepped forward. Your lips ghosted over his and his breath got stuck in his throat, “Don’t make me ask again,” you said slowly before sleeping back, pointing at the bed.

He nodded softly before slowly making his way to sit on the edge of his bed. His eyes stayed glued to you as he took his place. You followed him slowly, standing between his legs as he gazed up at you, “Better. It’s good when you listen,”

“What are you gonna do?” he mumbled as his hands went to reach for your hips.

You grabbed his wrists softly before he could, “I’m going to give you what you deserve,” you smiled, pushing his hands back to step away.

Before Aegon could protest your hands found the ties of your dress. He swallowed thickly as you unlaced them, allowing the heavy fabric to pool to the floor. Left standing in your thin shift you felt a rush of energy go through you as his eyes drank you in.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he mumbled.

“Blasphemous,”

“I don’t care,” he was too distracted by your figure to notice your smirk.

You stepped closer, lifting his chin with your finger. You smirked as his cheeks tinged pink. Your hand stroked gently over his cheek. A quick glance down and you could see he was ready. “Get rid of those,” you instructed and instantly he obeyed, “And lay down,”

Without moments Aegon was laying naked, on his bed, an excited look on his face. You moved to straddle his lap, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. He tried to follow them when you pulled away, but you kept a hand on his chest.

“Patience,” you chastised, “Good things come to those who wait,”

“I don’t think I can wait,” he mumbled.

You ignored him as you leaned down to kiss his cheek, then along his jaw. Just as you began to kiss his neck you lowered your hips, pressing your clothed core against him. He moaned softly as you began to grind against him.

You felt his hands on your hips and pushed them away, “Not yet,” you said, pinning them softly down onto the bed.

“Sorry,” he moaned, gasping when you pressed harder.

After all good behaviour got rewarded. You released one wrist, taking him into your hand. He moaned softly; eyes fluttery shut as you worked your magic. You enjoyed the little sounds he’d make as your kisses moved lower.

Eventually you released your grip on his other wrist as you kissed softly down his chest. However, when you felt his hand move to your hair, you let him go. “What?” he whined as you moved back up his frame.

“You haven’t earned it yet,” you smiled softly, running a hand over his soft locks.

“What do you want?” he asked, his eyes desperately searching yours as his body craved release.

You let your fingers trail down his face till they graced his lips, “I think you know,” you said, and his eyes turned hungry.

Slowly you moved further up till you hovered over his face, “Can I touch you?” he asked, his cool breath fanning over you making chills run down your spine.

“Yes,” you said as you gently lowered yourself down. You couldn’t help but gasp when his tongue began rubbing over your clit. His hands found your thighs, pulling you further down as you grabbed onto his headboard.

Curses fell from your lips as his tongue worked wonders on your bundle of nerves. He moved his head, his tongue now curling inside you as his nose nuzzled your clit. Your hips began to buck, grinding against his face. He let out a low groan, vibrations shooting up your spine.

“Good boy,” the small whisper seemed to egg him on as his movements grew faster. His moans grew louder. It was becoming impossible to hold on as a knot tightened in your belly.

your nails dug into the wood of the headboard as you let out a loud gasp when your peak crashed over you. You kept riding his face till you milked every drop of the pleasure.

Slowly, once you could move your legs again, you moved down his frame again. “You’re amazing,” he said, face wet as his eyes gazed at you with stary like wonder.

“I think you’ve earned a reward,”

Fire sparked in his eyes. He watched with bated breath as you positioned yourself over him. You lined him up, rubbing him against your slit and watching his eyes flutter shut. “Fuck,” he groaned as you slowly sank down.

Your hips moved slow at first, riding him at a tortuous pace. He went to grab your hips but stopped himself. He looked up at you, silently asking permission. You gave a curt nod, a simple smile, and suddenly his fingers dug deep into your hips. “you feel so good,” he mumbled in bliss.

You felt him start to twitch and just as quickly as you brought him to the brink, you pulled away. “What-?” his eyes shot open, searching the room as if someone had caught you, only to discover you’d stopped for seemingly no reason, “Why-?”

“Do you really think you’ve earned that yet?” you chastised, “After all your stunts?” your hand brushed against his cheek as his eyes went wide. You smirked gently, “Oh sweet one, I want to enjoy this,”

You moved down his body till you were between his legs. Your hands reached for the edge of your shift and Aegon watched with bated breath as you pulled it off. “You better not forget what happens to boys who don’t behave,”

You took him in your hand again, leaning down to place a soft kiss to his tip. Aegon hissed at the feeling. He groaned loudly as you began to kiss down the shaft, “Don’t worry,” you told him, “I’ll let you finish,” you licked up the side making him moan, his eyes shutting involuntarily, “eventually,”

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@maidmerrymint

[milkbobatyun]

foolish little dove

pairing: yandere!sunday x reader

genre: angstober, events, yandere

summary: the consequences of not listening to the head of the oak family

word count: 936

C O N T E N T W A R N I N G : yandere behaviour, manipulation, fear

a/n: this can be read as a continuation of my first yandere sunday piece 'my love, mine all mine'

the plush mattress of the bed dipped underneath you, the room furnished with an abundance of luxury—silk sheets, velvet drapes, golden accents, all shining in the glow of the candlelight. it was more than any common person could afford. yet, this was just a gilded cage, a dream disguised as a nightmare,

you were the dove, wings weighed down by invisible chains, helpless as you await for the fate your captor planned for you. the balcony teased you, thick, tempered glass doors teasing you, though it remained locked, the taste of freedom just out of reach.

oh how you prayed you could fly into the sky from the balcony, to feel the fresh air blow gently against your skin.

the vast room seemed to grow larger every day, the loneliness gnawed at your insides, making you yearn for company.

the sun rose and fell, night’s moonlight flooded the room. the repetitive ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs struck through throughout the room, the gramophone’s needle scratched out the same haunting tune, echoing around the bed chamber. 

you lost count of how many days you were locked up. the staff brought you your meals, took you to the bathroom to bath, their routine revolving around you like clockwork. your days began to blend into each other, making your mind a blurry haze.

today, a key jangled in the lock, the soft creak of the heavy oak door echoing in the still room.

sunday’s heavy boots thudded across the floor, muffled by the plush velvet carpet.

your blank gaze slid away from where your hands tangled each other, your hair hanging around your face like lifeless vines, towards the new figure in the room. when you catch sight of a white coat and not the mundane black uniform of the servants, your head snaps up, eyes lighting up with hope.

your eyes meet sunday’s steady gaze, lunging forwards, hands grasping at him, at his clothes, to prove to yourself he wasn’t a figment of imagination. those hallucinations happened more often now. 

sometimes, it was your family, screaming in agony, their bloody hands clawing at your exquisite clothing, cursing you to eternal suffering, their screams worming its way into your ears. other times, it was the trailblazer, haunting the dark corner of your room, a silent visitor who would stare blankly in your direction.

the smooth velvety fabric rippled cooling against your soft and warm skin. sunday’s mouth twitched into an amused smirk, as he closed the distance in a few long strides. for a fleeting second, you allowed yourself to believe that he was here, to free you from the cold shackles around your ankles. his cold hands, concealed by his pure white gloves, traced your face.

“my, my,” he purred, voice soothing. “how is my little dove?”

“please,” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. “please, let me go… i beg of you” your voice trailed off, dying like the hope you held in your heart.

a hollow chuckle flooded the room, sunday’s face twisted in cruel humor.

“you still don’t get it, do you?” he hisses, voice taunting. “you’re mine now, little dove. even if i let you go, where would you go? home?” 

a twisted smirk adorned his face. 

“oh right,” he continued, tapping his finger on his chin in mock consideration. “you don't have one anymore! maybe because…they’re all dead!”

his eyes were alight with evil delirium, looking down upon you like a hawk would upon its prey. 

with one finger twirling a lock of your hair, sunday leaned close to your ear, lips brushing your ear like a lover’s promise, and whispered, “remember, my little dove, you’re mine now, always and forever.”

with a gentle, almost lover-like caress of your cheek, sunday placed a kiss on your forehead, before he turned on his heel, heading towards the door.

something within you snapped and you moved before you could think, hope shining in your eyes. you tried to run towards the opening. though your legs, weak with days of sitting around, failed you. sunday watched you with sadonic delight, gaze cold and emotionless as he observed you while you flailed about, like a newborn deer. 

throwing dignity to the wind, you dragged yourself towards the door, the comfort of the carpet burning against your skin. you watched as the shining sliver of freedom shut behind sunday. 

the door clicked shut with an echoing finality. hearing the snap of the lock, turning back into its place, you remained, clawing at the door. you were but a dove in a gilded cage, weighed down by invisible chains, freedom nothing but a cruel illusion, always out of reach.

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[urmomisunderme2]

False god

Warnings: manipulation, implied stalking, mama/mommy wanda, tiny bit smut, mean wanda, dyslexic😭😭 bad writing and it’s short

Wanda saves you one day in the forest and stuff happens ig

You had meet your mommy…you don’t even know how long ago but you remember you where wondering through the woods upset and ready to end it all, tears streaming down your pink cheeks, you couldn’t keep going anymore, you couldn’t even walk around any more. You dropped down to the ground closing your eyes hoping you would never open them again.

“Oh my sweetie are you okay?” You hear this voice over you and a warm hand rubbing your arm “oh honey your so so cold” you squeeze your eyes open to see who this mystery person is but it’s far to bright for your little eyes. You feel the woman lifting you up into her arms holding you close “can you open your eyes for me baby girl” she doesn’t really ask she’s more telling you but you still shake your head to tell her no “yes you will, you can do it” you squeeze them open seeing a beautiful middle aged woman with auburn hair in front of you and you can’t help the whisper of a woah escape your lips “someone’s feeling a little better I see” the beautiful woman chuckles and you nod your head yes.

“Maybe you need a warm drink to heat you up…would you like to come and get one at mine?” You can’t help but get excited by the idea of getting to spend more time with her “YES PLEASEEE!!!” She smiles and gives you a kiss on the cheek. The mystery woman carries you for a while until you arrive at a cozy well built cabin, the woman opens the door and brings you to the sofa before a fire place and putting you under what seems a home knitted pink blanket “mmm so cozyyyy”

“I’m glad, here’s some green tea detka it should make you feel all better” the woman kisses your head and sits down next to you, you take a sip of the hot tea forgetting all the things that happened before she found you, they where crap memories anyway. Once you swallow your sip of tea you realise you don’t know her name “oh I forgot to tell you my name…I’m Wanda” she smiles like she could read your mind “I’m y/n” for a while you both sit in a comfortable silence while you finish your tea. Later that night Wanda puts on a movie, you end up cuddling into her and by the time the movie ends it’s dark outside and you never want to leave.

“Can I stay please?” You ask praying that she will say yes “of course pretty girl” Wanda smiles, you had never left since except for the walks you and Wanda sometimes go though the woods.

Over time you had gradually started calling her by mommy/mama, you couldn’t really help it, your brain had become all fuzzy and it was all to hard but mama was always there to take care of you. Forever.

———

“Mommy- I please” you moan was wanda’s fingers rut into you “so tight sweet girl, so good for mommy” it was all so much, no one had ever touched so nicely before mommy.

“God you look so cute when mommy plays with you baby” wanda moaned, she had a vibrater against her clit “mommy mommy please” wanda went faster as you begged making you cum, her cumming only a few seconds later. That was the first time she touched you like that and definitely not the last. It was one of your favourite things to do with your mama and luckily your other favourite things always lead it to sex, movie nights, bath time, colouring.

Today you woke up before her, that had never happened before mama was always up first and every so often she would wake you up with breakfast in bed.

You decided you where going to do the same for her, you sneak out of bed and out the front door to the outside, you hadn’t been outside by yourself since before you came here, you didn’t remember it at all but mommy told you she found you sad in the Forrest.

You walk around a bit looking for raspberries and blueberries that mommy always comes home with when suddenly someone pushes you against a near by tree wrapping their hands around your throat, you look up to see your mama but she looked different, not as happy as normal, you try to speak but you can’t when she’s holding your throat the way she is.

“You little brat, running away from me” she spat as you look at her confused “oh don’t look at me like an innocent little baby, I know your not, I watched you for months before you came here and you want to go back to THAT?!” Wanda’s hands get tighter around your throat “I can’t believe it after all I have done for you, the life I have given you out here as my baby free from stress and worry and now you do this to me?” You’d never seen her so mad before. You where starting to struggle to breathe trying to take in breath’s but none of them giving you enough air “mama- can’t breathe” you manage to choke out but she doesn’t listen as a sinister smile creeps up her face “good” Wanda whispers in your ear.

You start to kick her trying to get away, you weren’t running away from mommy but she wouldn’t listen and now you had too. You keep kicking but you can’t get out of her grasp only frustrating her more and more “you little bitch” she tightens her hands and everything goes black. Wanda carries you home changing your clothes and tucking you into bed “your mine baby girl, you can’t go anywhere” she whispers giving your head a little kiss.

You wake up a few hours later, hearing Wanda humming in the kitchen, you carefully get up and slowly walk through to the kitchen, Wanda turns around to greet you “oh look who’s finally, you where having nightmares my pretty baby” she holds you close, “but they where real” you mumble and wanda stiffens “tell mama and mama will tell you if it happened or not” she tells you hoping to find the reason why you’d run away without you having to know what she did to you “went to get berries to make mommy breakfast in bed and and… mommy was so mean to me… it hurt” Wanda’s fake smile flatters before going back into place, you had went to get berries for her and she had physical assaulted you.

“That never happened baby girl” she shush you, she could never let you know what had happened.

—///-

Tag list- @idkwhatever580

[solelifauna]

GUYS THIS COMMENT FROM @silken-moons ON THE WEREWOLF AU HAS ME LOCKED IN.

silken-moons:

Wait....so what happened to Kon or Conner in this au ? Was he the one eaten since he was basically half human and kryptonian too assuming lex is human in this au too.

I am more than happy to elaborate.

Lex is a half-human half-werewolf hybrid like the reader. So Conner would be half-kryptonian and only a fourth werewolf. When Clark finds out about his existence he’s pissed (at first). Superman doesn’t hesitate before finding Luthor and melting his skull in with his laser vision. It’s quite the graphic scene, Conner unfortunately being there to witness it all.

Conner is pressed back into some crevice in Luthor's office, doing his best to calm his heart beat, stave off his on-coming panic attack, and pray that Superman won’t kill him. Clark of course finds him curled in on himself, hyperventilating, tears streaming down his teenage face.

Conner is blubbering, he thinks, trying to communicate some type of garbled “please” and “I’m sorry” and “don’t hurt me please”. Superman just critically eyes him before knocking the clone out. Now, in the beginning he was just planning on taking the clone to the Watch Tower to interrogate him and then kill him. Perhaps Jon would like the extra meat?

But after watching the clone wake up alone in one of the containment units, crying quietly to himself as he rocked back and forth, he started to feel a little bad. He thought back onto the way the clone had practically begged him for mercy through his own panic attack. He's read Lex Luthor's files on "Superboy", how this clone had no flight, was not invulnerable, and couldn't even throw out half of Clark's strength.

This clone was no threat, no, in fact he was a gift. Another Kryptonian (even if the clone was only half with human DNA in his mix). And even better, the clone boy had no ill intentions towards the JL, hell, the boy looked afraid that anyone even considered the idea. No, no, no, this boy, his boy, was so sweet.

From the way he leaned into Clarks palm when he caressed the sleeping boys face, to the way he clung to Clark and his approval like a touch starved puppy, Clark couldn't help himself. The only problem now was getting his Wife and Son on the same page. He knew werewolf customs, he knew what it meant for Conner (a name his new son had previously picked out).

It would probably be easier to convince Jon considering the poor kid's been wanting a sibling for a long time now (Jon is 8 right now, but still all the same crazy). Lois might take a bit more time, considering pack bonds and the human part of Conner. So with a heavy heart, he kisses his new baby goodnight, as he flies home for he night. Yes, its been a couple of weeks since Connors arrival and he still hasn't told his family. he plans to amend that today.

He expects growling and demands for flesh. he expects outrage from his wife, or even a calm cool collected "bring him to me". What he gets instead are demands from Lois to see Conner, her new son. Clark blinks in surprise before he's fumbling with his phone, opening up his camera role where has has a million new pictures of Conner. Lois only grabs his phone, cooing over the pictures with adoration in her eyes. Well, Clark is pleasantly surprised.

"You're not mad are you Lois?" Clark asks gently.

"Oh I'm not mad Smallville, I'm livid." She all but growls, a smile still etched on her face as she continues scrolling. "You knew about him for weeks, and didn't even bother letting me know. I had a son for weeks, and he's been by himself."

Clark winces. "I know Lois, I know. I just-I was just afraid that you wouldn't want him the way I do. That you'd rip him open, hell, even I considered it in the beginning!"

Lois looks up from his phone, a knowing smile, a soft one, on her face. "I know farm boy, I know. But its important that you remember we don't always kill and eat the weak. Sometimes, its nice to have something that you can love and take care of, something that relies on you and only you."

"is that what you have planned for Connor?"

"Of course. He's our son now, and after everything he's been through, its out job to keep him and Jon safe. Until he can prove himself capable, he's not leaving the den."

A content grin makes its way onto Clarks face. Oh how he loved his wife. "I wouldn't have it any other way Lois. I'll bring him here tomorrow. Now, lets go let our other little rascal know."

Lois smirks. "I agree. Lord knows he's been waiting to have a-"

"-I have a new brother!" Comes the familiar voice of Jon Kent, cutting his mother off in his excitement.

Clark raises his eyebrow fondly, feigning exasperation. "Did you listen in on our conversation Jonathan Samuel Lane-Kent?"

"Of course I did! Well-I didn't mean to, but I couldn't help it! You said I have a brother and I wanna see him!" Jon all but whines.

"Well honey, dad said he'd bring him home tomorrow okay."

"Really!?"

"You betcha. But Jon, you have to be gentle with him okay? He doesn't know werewolf or Kryptonian customs okay?" His dad says.

"Okay, I promise i'll be gentle." Jon swears, nodding up and down.

Lois sighs fondly. "And its important to know that he is part human, do you know what that means?"

"Mhm! It means that he's not allowed out the den or the house, and that its our job to protect him 'cause he's weak." Jon repeats from his memory.

"Good job Jon! You're going to be the best brother, I just know you are." His mom says.

Jon preens under the praise.

He can't wait to meet his new brother!

~~~~~

The next day arrives slower than anyone would have liked.

The morning sunlight filters through the sky as Clark flies Conner to him penthouse in Metropolis, cradling the boy carefully as he slumbers. Conner stirs in his arms, eyes fluttering open, a brief panic flashing in them until he meets Clark’s calm gaze.

“Where-where are we?” Conner mumbles, clutching at Clark’s shirt with a grip that feels hesitant, almost reluctant.

“We’re going home,” Clark replies, a small smile on his face. “Your new home. Your family’s waiting for you, Conner.”

Conner’s eyes widen, his mouth opening as if to protest, but the words die on his lips. His gaze shifts away, and he nods mutely, not quite daring to believe that this “family” will truly accept him. He’s felt so disposable for so long; he almost can’t imagine what it’s like to be wanted.

The penthouse doors open, and Lois stands there, her sharp gaze softening the instant she sees Conner. She steps forward, reaching out a hand in a silent invitation. Conner hesitates, clinging to Clark a little tighter, and Clark gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay, Conner,” he murmurs. “I'm here for you.”

With a slow, tentative step, Conner reaches out, letting Lois pull him into a gentle hug. Her arms are firm around him, warm but unyielding, a silent promise of protection, though he senses the fierce strength just below the surface. She smooths his hair with surprising gentleness, her voice soft as she whispers, “Welcome home, Conner.”

Conner relaxes, allowing himself to take a deep, shuddering breath. This feels strange. He's never really had a home before. Luthor's compound was last place he felt safe, let alone a place he'd call home. And that word, that feeling-safe. He isn’t sure he's ever felt it outside Superman, sorry, his Dad's arms.

And isn't that a crazy thing, he has a Dad now. Superman, Clark Kent was his Dad.

Jon, standing just a few steps away, is practically vibrating with excitement. When Lois finally releases Conner, Jon bounds over, a wide grin on his face.

“Hi! I’m Jon, your brother!” He pauses, then adds, almost reverently, “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

Conner blinks in surprise, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he mumbles, “I-thank you, Jon.”

Lois places a hand on Jon’s shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Remember what we talked about, Jon. Conner’s still adjusting. Be patient with him.”

Jon nods enthusiastically, but there’s a possessive glint in his eyes as he looks at Conner, a silent vow to protect his new brother from anything—or anyone—that might threaten him. Conner notices this look, a strange chill running down his spine, but he says nothing.

As the day unfolds, Conner tries to settle into this new life, though it feels almost too good to be true. Lois and Clark are attentive, constantly ensuring he’s comfortable, while Jon barely leaves his side, eager to show him every corner of the penthouse, as if staking his claim. Meals are filled with warmth and laughter, and yet Conner can’t shake the feeling of being watched, almost obsessively.

That night, as Conner lies in the bed they’ve prepared for him, he hears the soft creak of footsteps outside his door. It opens quietly, and Clark steps inside, his face illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window. He walks over to the bed, looking down at Conner with an intense, unreadable expression.

“You’re part of this family now, Conner,” Clark says quietly, brushing a hand over Conner’s forehead in a strangely tender gesture. “Nothing will take you from us. Not anyone. You’re ours, do you understand?”

Conner nods, his throat tightening, unable to find words. Clark’s gaze softens, and he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to Conner’s forehead before turning and leaving the room, leaving Conner alone with a flurry of conflicted feelings. For the first time in his life, he feels wanted, cherished, trapped, as though he’s become a prized possession in a family he can never escape.

But, maybe, a small voice inside him whispers, he doesn’t want to escape at all.

Well folks, here's more lore on relationships outside of the Batfam. Let me know chat, am I cooking? New chap, out soon!

[propheticbride]

Lamb to Slaughter I

𐙚 Following Aegon's crowning of King, you attempt to settle into your new reality, with absolutely idea of what is happening around you. Your only company? The one eyed Prince himself.

𐙚 Aemond Targaryen x Reader (tw: manipulation, slight non-con, incest)

The nights following Aegon’s coronation were chaotic, whisperings of Rhaenyra’s claim lay about plainly as others argued the whore was not the rightful heir after all. Doors remained closed tight, no one talked too loud, servants kept to themselves. War was brewing, that was for certain.

You remembered the night your father died, your mother had snuck into your room and had gently woke you up. Cradled you as she gave you the news, you being the only Viserys doted on after Rhaenyra. And in some sick way, Alicent was sure you were her favorite too.

At first you did not comprehend how he was dead. He was not in good health, but to die so suddenly had left you confused.

‘My sweetling, he was not well. You saw. So weak, so poor in health.’ she spoke as she pet your hair.

Tears caked your face, hair matted to your skin, ‘I just don't understand.’

She sighed, ‘My poor girl.’

When Alicent had left that night, you had felt a void inside. Heartbroken and scared at the news. You found yourself in a familiar place, slipping out of your own chambers and into Aemonds. You wouldn't bother Aegon at that hour, him too drunk to even wake or want to comfort you. So instead you slipped into your more understanding brother’s space, the one who gently held you when you were scared and kissed you so gently.

But now, everyone's attention had been guided to Rhaenyra and her war. Everyone in the keep insisting she would come with fire and blood. And where you would seek Aegon’s affections, it would now be shunned upon. He was married after all, with two children and now king. He could no longer lie in bed and keep you entertained with his flea bottom stories.

✮⋆˙

“He's too busy now brother, too busy for me.” you complain, stitching at Aemond’s ripped attire. “He drinks a lot, I know this. But never stops by my chambers anymore. He must be so occupied with being king.”

Aemond doesn't reply, just makes an agreeing sound as his one eye watches you sew.

“How is Helaena? I know you two spend time together, she will not speak to me either. I wish she would, I get so lonely.”

“I talk to you.” Aemond reminds you.

You nod, giving him a gentle smile, “You’re always so good to me brother.”

His hand finds your arm, gently rubbing you to calm you.

“No one tells me anything. It’s…” tears form in your eyes.

“My love…”

“No!” you slam his arm away, getting up and begin to pace. “You are not to call me that! You are gone for days, on that beast you claim to be a dragon. Mother will not come visit me, Aegon has completely shunned me. Cole will not look at me and my dear sister will not speak to me. I am going insane in my room. Please. Please, what is happening?”

Aemond studies you for a moment, as if he were examining your outburst.

“I’ve never known you to yell. At all people, me.” he finally speaks.

It hurts you. The pain that settles in your chest after his words are enough to make you sick.

“I did not mean-” you return to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Please forgive me. I cannot stand if you are mad at me. I am losing my sanity. I'm so lonely.”

“Am I not enough to keep you happy?” he questions.

“I miss our mother, and our brother.” you admit. “When father was alive I wasn't so…lonely.”

“Because he kept you company.”

“I just want Aegon to visit again. Or mother. Or even Haelena. Please just ask them. Ser Kavvin does not let me leave ever. It’s like I am a prisoner.” it’s almost as if you were praying to the gods. Gentle and begging. Please please please.

Aemond is silent again, until he rises and kisses your head, “I’ll tell mother and brother to visit you my sweetling, it must be so awful for you to be cooped up in here, I am sorry Vhagar has my interests as of late. My priority has always been you.”

You beam at his words, the remembrance of your outburst a memory it seemed. Although the court was terrified of Aemond, you were not. Perhaps some of you was, but he was gentle and sweet to you, you almost had no reason to be scared. He took care of you, bringing you jewelry and new gowns, dining with you in place of your mother. He was the only human interaction you had gotten as of late, everyone else so preoccupied with Aegon.

“Is it?” you ask. Out of place, and you know it, but you cannot help yourself.

“I always thought we’d marry. Aegon had Haelena, but who has you, but me.” Aemond begins to cup your face. “I enjoy our time together, but there are matters I must attend to this afternoon. But don't worry, I will have mother or Aegon visit you.”

You struggle to understand his words, “What do you mean. Have me?”

He smiles and shakes his head, giving you a kiss on the lips before finding himself out of your chamber.

✮⋆˙

If anything Aemond does well, it's keep a promise. As he said, Alicent finds herself in your chambers a little after nightfall. She had maids run you a hot bath, your white hair gently slipping through her fingers as she brushed it.

“Why haven't you visited me?” you finally ask after too much silence.

“Aegon is being prepared to finally rule, I have been attending to it.” she says. “I am sorry, I haven't seen to you. I do feel bad.”

“Why must I be confined to my chambers.” you turn to her, violet eyes looking up at her.

“I do not trust…” she tries to collect her thoughts, not sure how to word it for you to understand best. “Aegon thinks it’s best if you are under protection. He thinks you might be a target for Rhaenyra’s anger.”

“Rhaenyra.” you say your sister’s name. “Rhaenyra is upset that father replaced her as heir?”

“Yes my sweet. She is upset that your father changed his mind about the succession. He decided he wanted Aegon on the throne after all.”

“I miss him.” you say after a while. “He was very sick…but he kept me company.”

“I am sorry, I am. I know it is no excuse but you must forgive and understand how daunting this has all been. So much has been done and needs to be done, the realm may be at war soon-”

“At war?” you interject, worry in your tone. “War? Why war?”

Alicent catches herself, she has slipped.

‘Do not mention the mess with Rhaenyra to her, I would not have her worry’ Aegon’s voice played in her head.

“No war my sweet, I only forget myself. I am sure Aegon will come to peace with Rhaenyra, and maybe she will even be seen back in the keep. You’d like that, right? I know you were fond of her son, Jacerys, I know you two were close.” Alicent goes back to braiding your hair, scared her words have put unrest in you. You did scare rather too easy.

“I don't want anyone at war.” you murmur.

“No war.” Alicent nods. “Aegon will be a good king, and make peace. I know it.”

✮⋆˙

If you were honest, you were close to Jacerys, spending time in the garden together and studying. Rhaenyra had taken a liking to you, mostly due to your shared father also taking a liking to you. You were not close with Lucerys, you did not know him well. You did not spend time with him nor were you very thoughtful towards him. No time truly spent between you.

So news of his death broke the in the red keep, you found yourself indifferent. No tears were shed, but your heart hurt for Jacerys.

Aemond had returned from dragon back, Aegon so delighted of his brother's victory, the murder of a child, that a feast was thrown. You were allowed in your finest green silk and finally allowed out of your chambers, where you sat among several counsel members and your family along with some court attendees. Aemond had been silent for most of the feast, ignoring the praise he had received, most of them insults for Rhaenyra. You watched him closely, hoping, begging he would make eye contact with you. But he did not.

For hours it went on like this, Aemond slowly sipping and eating at the feast presented in front of him, not truly present at the party that was all for him and his victory.

Aegon, ever drunk, was quite present. Too present.

“My sweet sister!” his voice calls, and you turn to him. “Where have you been hiding?”

“My chambers, on your ruling.” you murmur.

“My ruling? Why would I ever…” he hiccups and slams himself down in the chair beside you. “I have missed you soooo much. Your absence has been noted, why do you scorn me so?”

His words don't make sense to you. Your mother’s words and now his, dancing in your head. You hadn't noticed, not truly noticed, until you briefly look at him, that Aemond is staring at you. For the first time in the entire night, he simply stares. But his gaze is far from comforting.

“I’ve been in my chamber, lonely.” you admit, looking back at Aegon.

“Well…I have missed you my girl, so much. It's so lonely…” he whispers the next part, “my bed… has been rather lonely.”

Aemond stands, everyone quickly glancing at him. He excuses himself from the table, with Aegon’s hand on you all you truly can do is watch.

“He’s upset” you mention.

“Ah yes. He’s been so moody since that business with the dragons. Don't know why though. They're all traitors. I’ll have all of their heads.” Aegon smells like alcohol, a smell you’re familiar with but still sensitive to.

“Aegon!” your mother’s voice rings. “I do wish you would not speak of such things with her, you know better.”

Alicent attempts to pull Aegon up from beside you, but he is quick to shove her away. You stand, shocked at the whole ordeal.

“I think I will head to bed.” you insist.

“I think that would be best, sweetling.” Alicent nods.

When you enter your chambers, you don't notice Aemond at first. He's facing the bookshelf, one your late father filled with stories of old and history. The one thing you both bonded over.

When you do notice him, it’s when you're half naked, pulling your sleeping slip on.

“Your skin is always so beautiful.” his voice startles you.

“Aemond!” you jump, clinging to your fur blanket, attempting to cover yourself.

“I've seen you already, have you forgotten me already?” you're not sure if he's as drunk as your other brother was, but his voice is calm and almost soothing.

“You should be in bed, the hour is late and I know you are upset.” you try to reason with him, knowing that when he is upset he is easiest to get to.

“But you always grant me so much comfort.” Aemond steps towards you, allowing his hand to cup your face, thumb lining your lips. “Do you remember the night I lost my eye. I was in so much pain. And you found me, alerted the guards to me. And that night, before we left, you let me in your bed for the first time. And we laid there together in peace.”

You watch his face as he talks, there's always been a certain amount of devotion you showed Aemond. That night you had found your cousins and him, screaming at the top of your lungs that alerted the guards to the situation. And he was not wrong. That night Aemond had been restless, in pain over his lost eye. Where your mother usually slept beside you, she had taken a leave of absence from your bed that night, allowing Aemond to replace her.

“You were always so sweet to me, where they laughed, you had always welcomed me. For dolls, for tea…for anything. So gentle. So kind.” Aemond sounds breathless, like he was praying.

“Aemond-”

“Shhhhh.” he licks your closed lips, causing you to gasp.

Aemond was always strict with the affection he gave you; always keeping his hands to himself, always to be careful that your mother did not catch a glimpse of how hungrily he would stare at you. But never this brazen. You did not know what to make of it.

“Please.” you beg. “We can't-”

“Can't what. You have no husband, and I have no wife. This is right. We were born to be together.” Aemond presses his forehead towards you. “Ever since that night I lost my eye, and you welcomed me so warmly into your bed I have wanted you since. Why won't you let me take you?”

“We can't…Aegon…he-”

Aemond’s face twists in anger, “Don't mention him! Do not speak of him!”

The outburst scares you, taking a step back and clutching your fur tighter.

“Drop it.” his face changes, as does his voice. His entire demeanor shifts. He unclips his cloak from his armor, letting the fabric fall to your chamber floor. “I said…drop it”

You drop the fur immediately, standing there almost bare for him. He looks over body, with a hungry gaze and a curious eye. Your slip was a thin silk, something your mother would die if she ever found you dressed in. But the sun had been hot as of late, and her nightgowns were too heavy. The several slips had been a gift of Aemond, now you had known why.

“I have waited years for you. Years for you to come to your senses of what I am to you. What you are to me. I am sick of waiting my sweet, I need you now. And I will have you now.” Aemond’s hands gently pull your slip down, allowing your naked body to be in full view for him. “You’re mine. You always have been. I just need to prove it to you."

[bandgie]

The One That Got Away

synopsis: Hyunjin is nothing more than a playboy you wish you had zero history with. You wish he feels the same, but he can't seem to forget the night you ran from him.

warning!: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, oral (f!rec), teeth use (i have to), fingering, cum eating, dry humping (brief)

notes: this is a request that took me way too long to write

3.8k words

“No.”

Hwang Hyunjin blinks. He awkwardly shifts on his feet, standing at the front of the classroom two feet shy away from you. He had made sure to ask you once everyone left. When you were busy stacking the papers the students turned in for grading. Your unamused eyes looked away from his still form, hoping he’d get the message and leave, but of course, he didn't.

“No?” He parrots. “I really need to pass this course.”

“And I really need to grade the papers,” you slap the stack on the desk. When you applied to be a teaching assistant for your professor, you thought it would be simply grading and answering emails. Instead, you’re teaching class, helping students who are either too tired or high to understand what you’re saying. It got to the point that you begged Professor Bang for another TA, one that’s specifically for tutoring. 

“But Jisung told me to ask you. All of his slots are full,” his usual cocky eyes fill with uncertainty. “Is this because of…the thing?”

You freeze at the mention, swearing that your heart stops beating. A flash of memories infiltrate your mind as you're forced to recall his hands on your body, the feeling of his warm breath on your neck as you pushed up against him. It was before the semester started. Before you knew that Hwang Hyunjin would be one of your professor’s students. 

The first time he saw you.

You clear your throat, carefully putting the papers in your bag. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But your half-irritated half-nervous demeanor gives it away. It’s enough for Hyunjin to smile, propping himself against the desk almost flirtingly. “You don’t? Well, I do. You were wearing that cute little tank top and-”

“Jisung is the one in charge of tutoring,” you cut him off and pray he can't see the blood rushing to your face. “If he doesn’t have a slot open, I’ll make him open one up. Don’t bother me about shit that isn’t my problem.”

There’s a small victorious feeling when you see his smile drop. When his limbs look more lanky than confident as you take your leave. The reason your hips sway is because of your heels, not because of the piercing gaze you know Hyunjin is giving your back.

-

Luck is hardly, if ever, on your side. Or maybe it was just Jisung’s pretty eyes practically begging you to take just one student to tutor that made you cave. 

“Just one time, please! I’m filled with students already!”

“I don’t see any sessions for Saturday.”

“It’s mine and Minho’s anniversary that day! Pleeease!”

You tune out the remembered conversation to focus on your outfit instead. It was Hyunjin’s idea to meet at a cafe, though you weren’t sure if they were open this late. You slide your clothes across the rack, looking for a jacket when a familiar tank top catches your eye. Gently, you pull it from the closet to further inspect it. 

You were wearing that cute little tank top…

The material is tight, purposely so that your chest pushes together for extra cleavage. It makes you look nice, so much so that Hyunjin couldn’t take his eyes off you that night. Were you a student? No, Hyunjin knew almost everyone, especially pretty girls. There’s no way you would have slipped under his radar. Asking you to dance was pure alcohol on his side, you grinding your ass against his crotch was on yours.

There isn’t much to the memory, you left before things got too serious. But you remembered the night when you woke up the day after and apparently, so did Hyunjin when you walked into the classroom to introduce yourself as their TA.

Wearing the same tank top would be foolish. It would only show Hyunjin that you did remember, that you did like the way he felt against you even through all the clothes and people bumping against you. Logically, you should toss the top back into the closet.

You saved thinking logically for your assignments. 

-

Hyunjin was having a hard time looking at your eyes. You were explaining the critical differences between an independent and a dependent variable, but those pretty lips moving would occasionally sip on the staw. Your lips would purse and your tongue would stretch out to firmly hold onto it while you drank. Your throat would gently bob, and now you licked the remaining liquid from your lips to continue talking. 

Whenever you help Hyunjin write, his eyes lock with your chest. That damned tank top barely doing anything to help the spilling of your tits. The same ones he groped from behind you during that night, daring to dip underneath that material just before you fled.

“Why did you run away?”

You pause in the middle of your sentence to look up at him, leaning back to properly scan his face. Hyunjin hadn’t meant to speak out loud, but he can't find himself regretting it when you cock your head to the side in confusion. “From what?”

“The thing.”

You groan, grabbing your cup and furiously drinking it. “Can you stop it with the thing? That was months ago.” You keep sipping in hopes of Hyunjin dropping it, but he leans closer from the other side of the table as he says, “I don’t think so. You were all up on me and then dipped. I can’t get over it.”

“First of all,” you raise a manicured finger at him. “You were the one on me, let's get that straight. Secondly,” you put up a second digit, “You’re gonna have to get over it. I didn’t wanna fuck you then and I don’t wanna fuck you now.” Horrified eyes from nearby tables turn in your direction. You silently curse yourself and embarrassingly suck on the straw. “This isn’t a place where we should talk about this.”

Hyunjin nods, agreeing with you for what seems like the first time ever. “You’re right. Let’s go to mine.” He begins to pack his things without waiting for your response. You scowl at him, watching as he leaves a generous tip for the waiter and stands. 

You don’t know why you follow him and you don’t want to know. His place is only a few blocks away from the cafe, but the street feels like it stretches on forever in the night. Hyunjin keeps you on the inner sidewalk, huffing about how you shouldn’t walk close to the streets. You’d think it was cute if the person was someone other than him, so you only bicker in return. 

It’s only when you enter his apartment that you fall silent. You thought his place would be trashed, maybe even some female underwear lying around somewhere, but it’s cozy. Clean enough to know that he keeps it up, but still having things thrown around to know he frequents here. Books sprawled open, only a few dishes in the sink, and random splashes of paint on the hard floor as if he spilled. 

“Not bad, huh?” He smiles at your ogling. You huff and turn your head away from him, “I never said it was good.” Hyunjin chuckles, gesturing to the small living room as he makes his way to his smaller kitchen. 

“I got chocolate muffins, grapes… instant ramen…” he trails off, obviously desperate to look for something good to offer. “I assume knock-off Oreos are off the table?” Against your better self, you smile. You remember being a struggling undergrad, living off cheap ramen and tap water. “I’m okay, thanks.”

He nods, “Good. ‘Cuz that has to last me ‘till my next paycheck.”

You look at him both amused and perplexed. “Then why did you even offer me anything?” Hyunjin flops beside you on the couch, letting his limbs stretch, “Because I’m a good host. Am I supposed to let a pretty girl starve instead?”

Ah, there he is. It’s hard to believe that Hyunjin is anyone but a flirt. It’s even harder to believe that his little tricks actually worked, even almost on you. “Does that always work for you?” He cocks his pretty head to the side, dark hair falling over his eyes in the process, “Does what?”

You gesture to his body; the open legs, the sly smirk, the nonchalant slouch that he’s practiced, “This whole…act. You being all hot and flirty so girls will sleep with you.” Hyunjin’s eyes widen. He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable with your observation. It only takes a cool ruffle of his hand through his hair before he says, “I dunno. Is it working?” He laughs borderline obnoxiously while your nose scrunches in distaste. “Hardly. I’d say it’s having quite the opposite effect.”

A wicked smile finds his beautiful lips. “Is that so?” Hyunjin gently places his hand on your thigh, letting his thumb rub on the smooth surface of your skin. He leans towards you, hair tickling your neck as he whispers, “How about now? You feeling any different?”

He expects you to roll your eyes, maybe even push him away, but you don’t. You’re too busy trying to ignore the pumping of your heart. It’s loud in your ears, thump thump thump.

You open and close your mouth, not sure of what you should say. Shoving him away should be your next move, but being this close to him only reminds you of the party. His breath is warm on your skin, so much like that night. Hyunjin doesn’t creep his hand up, but you're silently wishing he could. You want to feel him touch you again. You want his fingers to dig into the flesh of your breasts, leaving marks in their wake. 

“Why’d you run?” He asks again. 

You can’t ignore him now. Not when the truth crawls up your throat and leaves your tongue. “I didn’t mean to. I just had never…” You turn your head away. A part of you wants to run away again. To leave this awkward, yet alluring situation. You want to go back to the comfort of your room, rotting in your bed while graduates and undergraduates live the college life you know isn’t meant for you.

Hyunjin doesn’t let you escape this time, not without an answer at least. One hand finds your chin, gently turning it until you’re forced to look at him. His eyes are anything but impatient like you thought they’d be. They’re intent, watchful, and gleaming. They drop to your tongue swiping against your lips then back to your eyes.

God, you want to kiss him.

“You just never what?”

Screw it. You close the distance. With your eyes closed, you pray that you find his lips aimlessly. Hyunjin lets out a surprised mmf! when you make contact. He lets your lips mold around his, moving his hand from your chin to the back of your neck to steady himself. He presses you slightly harder against him, forcing your mouth to open just the tiniest bit so he can get the first taste of you.

The gentle sounds of smacking turn wetter. You quietly whimper against his mouth and you feel him smile. Hyunjin tugs you. Once, twice, before you finally get the message to sit on his lap. You only break the kiss for a short second before your back on them, ignoring the nervousness pooling in your stomach as you straddle him. 

Hyunjin pulls from your mouth to kiss your cheek, down your jawline until he bites your earlobe. You cry out, gripping his shoulders and slightly trembling in his hold. His hands squeeze your waist, unintentionally making you rub against his crotch.

“Look at that,” he whispers in your ear. “Who’s on who now?” Hyunjin giggles when you bury your face in his neck. His hands roam lower until they find the fat of your ass. You stiffen, arching your back just the slightest so he can have more to grab. With his hands on you, Hyunjin slowly grinds you on his crotch. You feel his hard-on, the bulge pressing against your cunt so deliciously it scares you.

Hyunjin notices the difference. He picks his head from your neck and you do the same. 

“You said you've never done something before,” you can see him connecting the two, but you already know he’s going to arrive at the wrong answer. “Did you mean, like? You’re still a virgin?”

You shake your head, red from both embarrassment and arousal. “Not like that. I just mean, I’ve never had…a hookup.”

He raises his eyebrow. “You? Never?”

“Nope.”

“But you’re like, a graduate. And you’re hot.” Hyunjin wiggles his eyebrows and you playfully push him. “Thanks, but none of those really matter. I get awkward if it’s not someone I know. That’s why I usually…”

He finishes for you, “Run away.” 

You nod. 

“Well…” Hyunjin moves his hands back to your waist, lifting you until you’re back seated on the couch. Disappointment fills you. You weren’t sure if you necessarily wanted to fuck Hyunjin, but you definitely didn’t want to be rejected by him at the very least. You don’t want to feel humiliated, but you do. You’re about to get up and practically scurry for the front door before he parts your legs.

Hyunjin hooks one over his shoulder while the other hangs over the couch limp. He leans his head down, stomach flat on the cushions as he nudges against your thighs. He shoots you a sly smile, “Guess we’ll just start slow then.”

You bite your lower lip when his fingers diligently work your buttons. Hyunjin leans closer and takes hold of the zipper in his mouth. “This okay wit’ you?” You giggle from his muffled words, nodding. “Mhm. I honestly thought you were gonna tell me to leave.”

His eyebrows shoot up, surprise evident in his face as he drags the zipper down. “What?” He says as he shuffles your pants down. “Why would I do that?” You shrug, but there’s a pink hue in your cheeks. “I dunno. I was thinking maybe you’d like someone who knew what they were doing.”

Hyunjin blows a raspberry, concentrating on getting your tight jeans off until they’re nothing but a pile of clothes on the floor. He settles back between your legs, eyes lighting up at the sight of your pretty panties. “The way you were grinding up on me that night? I won’t lie, I definitely thought you knew what you were doing. But it doesn’t really matter if you do or don’t.” Hyunjin presses a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, making you hum from the warmth. “I can do it all for you.”

Heat bubbles in your stomach at those words. You mindlessly nod, although you’re not sure if you were supposed to respond anyway. Hyunjin’s nose brushes against your clothed cunt, his lips puckering so he can gently press kisses to your core. 

You mewl at the sensation, widening your legs so he has more room. Hyunjin shows his appreciation by opening his mouth. Even through your underwear, you can feel the heat of his mouth. Your legs eagerly quiver when he finally plants his mouth on your pussy. His tongue makes work to your clit, rubbing the sensitive flesh until your panties grow wetter. 

The sounds make up for the lack of noise in the room, but you can’t find yourself to be embarrassed. Not when he finally pushes the underwear to the side with the tip of his nose and presses another gentle kiss on your bare cunt. His tongue is just as gentle as his lips. He smoothes over your flesh with consideration, sucking the bud of your clit. You jolt, one hand shooting to his hair to grip.

“Fuck!” You use your free hand to grasp onto your breast with your elbow keeping you half-sitting. “It’s so sensitive there.”

Hyunjin giggles with your clit in his mouth, giving a harsh suck just to pop off a second later. “I know. Ever had your pussy eaten at least?”

You have to blink in concentration. It’s hard to think of the small, pathetic sexual encounters you’ve had when Hyunjin goes back to eating you out. The only response you give him is moaning, your hand pressing him deeper into your cunt until his nose shines with arousal. 

A whine leaves you when he pulls away, replacing his skilled mouth with equally skilled fingers. They’re long, and warm, but not as soft as this tongue. You open your mouth to complain, but a long-winded sigh leaves instead when they brush against your fattening clit. Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you look at his digits flicking your pussy. “Shit.” 

“Anyone ever told you how cute your little pussy is?” He locks eyes with your core. “I can’t believe no one’s tasted it. It’s fucking good.” Hyunjin’s eyes glaze over with something you haven’t seen before. A desire so deep you think he could drink you up with just his look. His tongue pokes out of his mouth unconsciously as he slides his fingers lower, just until the tip of his digit finds your entrance.

He dips it in, groaning at how easily you open up for him. It’s warm inside, so soft that he can’t help the way his fingers keep digging deeper until his knuckles touch your skin. You can feel your walls pulsing around him as you throw your head back. “Not- mmm- not like this. No one’s eaten me like this.” 

Hyunjin lets out what you think is closer to a growl than a moan at your words. He pumps his fingers fast and hard, making a repetitive slapping sound echo throughout his living room. You squeal, snapping your head down to look at him. You clench harder seeing him; his open mouth, the intense gaze, the heavy breathing. 

Unable to keep eye contact, you peer down at your cunt. His fingers have a sheer coat of white from his efforts, so much so that it begins to slide down his wrist. You whimper at the sight. Hyunjin follows your line of sight, moaning at the mess you’ve made on him.

“God, fuck!” He leans his back down, tongue already blindlessly looking for your cunt. “Please, please, please.” You’re not sure what he’s begging for, but something in you bubbles with the first signs of your orgasm at the thought of him so needy to taste you. The combination of his fingers and mouth makes you gasp. The very few people you’ve been with only cared if you were wet enough to take them. They didn’t care if you came. If you felt so good that you wanted to crawl out of your skin like how you feel now.

It’s so hot being trapped between your thighs. Hyunjin has sweat dripping down his forehead, but he hardly slows down. Not when he can see you panting, legs restlessly scrambling before you wrap them around his neck to keep him there. Being pressed against your cunt makes it harder for him to finger you, but you don’t seem to mind. You seem content with having something to clench down on while he sucks on your clit, and he’s more than happy to oblige. 

“Hyunjin!” You cry out his name. You repeat it over and over when his mouth envelopes your entire pussy. He sucks, he licks, and he grunts when you yank on his hair a little too hard. Your hips begin to rock against his face, trying to both escape and increase the intense pleasure you’re feeling. His mouth follows you easily, uncaring of how much you pull and tug on his hair. 

“Don’t stop. Shit, please don’t stop.” You build and build, nearly forgetting to breathe before finally crashing down. Hyunjin tipped you over by ever so slightly biting on your clit. The hardness of his teeth provides the perfect amount of pressure for you to cum on his face. Hyunjin stills his fingers, letting you rhythmically pulse around his digits while his tongue laps continuously over your flesh.

You must sound like you’re crying, screaming, or something in between. You can’t help the shuddering breaths, the loud mewls, or the moans that leave you when Hyunjin helps you come down from your high. 

Finally, you release his hair. You loosen the grip you've trapped him with between your legs so he can let up, but Hyunjin stays satisfied by licking you clean. It would be overstimulating if it weren’t for his kitten licks. His tongue swipes a fat strip up your pussy before pulling his fingers from your entrance to suck there instead. 

“Damn,” you say breathlessly. “You stuck there or something?”

Hyunjin makes you yelp when he roughly drags his tongue back to your nub. You shoot him a warning look that only makes him laugh. “Weren’t you telling me not to stop?” You huff, rolling your eyes and looking away dramatically. 

Hyunjin doesn’t let you bicker before he sits up away from your cunt. Although your cunt is swollen and sensitive, you can’t help but chase the heat of his mouth when he lets go.

You whine and collapse on the couch, arm and back slightly aching from keeping you upright. You can’t imagine how tired his jaw must be from making you finish, but he wears your cum like a trophy on his face. Hyunjin keeps a dazed smile on, leaning back until his back perches on the arm-rest of the couch

“Ugh,” You groan from his shit-eating grin, closing your legs and sitting upright. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Hyunjin throws his head back and laughs, picking it back to give you a false frown. “I made you cum, and that’s how you repay me?” He pouts, “Don’t try and run away from me again.” Your breath gets caught at his words. He most likely meant it as a joke, but you can’t help feeling almost guilty about leaving him high and dry that night. Maybe you should finally make it up to him. 

“Do you want me to…return the favor?”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen for a moment, seemingly surprised that you even offered. You’re waiting for him to shift in his seat and begin to unbuckle his belt, but he stays on his ass comfortably. “Nah, that’s okay.” He smiles charmingly. “You can kiss me instead.”

You groan, pretending that the butterflies erupting in your stomach are just the aftershocks from your orgasm. Hyunjin laughs again, harder this time. He’s too busy closing his eyes and giggling at your reactions to see you crawl forward. Too busy wiping the hilarious tears to notice that you’ve puckered your lips and leaned in.

This time, you’re the one smiling when he squeaks in your mouth.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Keep Your Head In The Game

Yandere! Victoria Neuman x reader

(Warnings: threats of murder, non con touching/kissing, implied captivity)

Working at the Bureau had been your dream job. 

Vought had ruined so many people’s lives. It felt good to be part of something that stood against that company for those who couldn't. Despite not having powers, even you could be a hero. You'd worked under Victoria Neuman for years. You knew everything about her. 

And then Hughie Campbell ruined everything. 

You’d like to think of him as a friend. You and him had lunch together sometimes. You’d sit and smile as he went on and on about his girlfriend. He was a nice guy. You’d like to think that he and you were close. 

But Hughie broke you.  

Evidence. He’d shown you evidence of what she’d done. So much blood. So much gore. The orphanage, the files. 

“She’s one of them,” he’d whispered right before he fled into the night, “stay away from her. Quit. Please, for your sake, don’t go back to that fucking snake den.” 

And then he was gone. Just like that. 

Work in the Bureau continued as normal. Safe for the rumors of Soldier boy sightings, everything was so…fine, even without him. 

Even Neuman was unphased. 

She still smiled and laughed and told jokes as she surrounded herself with regular humans. She curled her lip when Supes were discussed. You used to love it when she brought Zoe around, but even her daughter you couldn’t even trust to be real. 

Victoria didn’t act like a Supe. 

But Hughie wasn't lying. 

Friday night. The bureau had a party going on tonight. Another Supe had been successfully put away. Those were always a sight, especially considering Gina would get shitfaced. You couldn’t go, feigning illness before you slipped out the night. You couldn’t enjoy yourself, not when you had so much to think about. 

Instead of enjoying the night with coworkers, you found comfort in the hardest liquor in your cabinet. Your one true friend. 

Not Hughie. Not anymore. Hughie left. Or maybe he was killed. Who knows. Who fucking cares. 

There’s a knock on your door. When you ignore it, it comes again louder. You groan, but you pull yourself off the couch eventually. Your neighbor again. You need to have a talk with her about disturbing you at odd hours of the night. 

“You look like you’ve seen better days.”

You can only stare. Victoria tilts her head. 

“Gonna let me in or will I have to stand out here?” 

Against your judgment, the instinct of always listening to your boss kicking in, you open the door. She elegantly steps in, surveying your home. 

She’s wearing that blue suit you’ve always complimented her on. Earlier, you would have admired her professional elegance. Now, it makes her look more inhuman. She looks even more out of place in your shabby apartment, studying your upkeep. 

“Sorry,” you say when you stop gawking, “I…I hadn’t had time to clean up.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Victoria waves you off. “Just checking in on my favorite employee. How’re you feeling, by the way.” 

“Good.” You quickly reply. “I was just feeling a little under the weather earlier. I hope I didn't worry you." 

"Why wouldn't I be worried?" She tilts her head, grinning with straight white teeth that get increasingly eerie the longer you stare. "We're friends, aren't we?" 

Before, you wouldn't have blinked twice at her words and tone. You would have mindlessly agreed, smiled even. But things were different now. You were playing pretend with a known murderer. 

If you close your eyes, you can still remember the faces in that court before their heads exploded. You'd been behind a screen, watching it all in horror and you remembered closing your eyes and begging for Victoria to be alright, praying that it would be okay if everyone died but her. 

And now to realize she caused all that? 

"Maybe you have a fever. You're shaking." 

You were. You clasp your trembling hands together, trying to ease your nerves. 

"Yeah." Even your voice was wavering. Calm down. Calm down. "I still might not be over...whatever I came down with."

The predator clicks her tongue in sympathy, cooing as she nears her prey. You force yourself not to stiffen when she wraps a sturdy hand around your shoulders, leading you over to the couch. You sit next to her with your thigh pressed up against hers. You feel like you're about to vomit. 

"You should rest," Victoria says, "take a few days off work. I'll let everyone know." 

"Yeah," you say because this is good, it'll help you focus on what you need to do next, "definitely, thank you." 

"Oh, please, don't thank me." She laughs. "I'm glad you're not in the office because you're sick. For some reason, I thought you were avoiding me. Y'know, 'cause you were scared, I would pop your head." 

One second. Two seconds. And then you're up, scrambling off the sofa. It's instinct to run from monsters, no matter if they would take your head off your shoulders on a whim, whenever they want. It's instinct to be stupid and careless and run. 

If anything, you should be grateful this monster is her. 

She's strong, like all Supes are. Even though you know what she is, it takes you a moment to realize it's Victoria who had pinned you against the couch, keeping you underneath her. You used to win arm-wrestling competitions against her. The pressure caused your lungs to tighten, making it hard to breathe. Even has you struggled, tried to claw at her hands, tug on her pristine clothes, she didn't budge. You think the worst thing about all of this was that it didn't even look like it took much effort to keep you down. Like she was wrestling a kitten. 

"Easy, easy." She hushes, tone soft and condescending. "C'mon, we're both adults, aren't we? Let's be civil here." 

Civil. Like she had any right to use that word after what she's done for months, perhaps all her life. Your heart is a hummingbird frazzled with fear, but you can feel that twinge of anger and resentment even then. Something else too: betrayal. 

"Why?" You asked, your voice failing. "Why, Vicky?" 

For the first time tonight, her mask cracks. Her eyes flicker, looking at your defeated body before coming back up to your face. She looks remorseful, but not guilty. 

"I didn't....I didn't want you to find out this way." She admits, slightly easing off you, enough to ease the force in your lungs. "Or maybe ever, actually. Fucking Cambell, leaving a mess, and then running off. What else can you expect from that guy, right?" 

You just stare. Victoria sighs. 

“Of all people, I thought you would understand.” Her voice wavers. “I thought you’d get it, somehow.” 

You look at her, and you feel like you’re staring at that girl from Red River. Scared and Trembling Nadia, who just wanted love, someone to lean on. Someone who wasn't scared of her. 

Then it flickers, and then Victoria's back. 

"You murdered a whole room." You finally say. "How could you possibly ask me to understand that?" 

She glowers, her frown deepens, and then she's sitting up, getting off you. You learn your lesson from last time, but you still huddle in the corner of the sofa, watching her. 

"Right, because I'm supposed to believe you feel bad for them." Victoria rolls her eyes. "Half of those guys vacationed on Epstein's island before the brand change, and you were there when those deep fakes came out. Remember Congressmen Davis? He kept staring at your ass on the House Floor, so I'm not sure why you're acting like they're suddenly men of valor." 

"Yes, yes, yes, they were terrible people." You press your hand to your forehead. "But you-we-we can't kill people. We-we're supposed to do things the right way and I just-" You choke on your words. 

"Hughie got to you," she notes, "I knew I shouldn't have paired you up with each other." 

"You lied to me." You murmur. There's no anger anymore, just heartbreak. "You lied to everyone. I thought we were fighting against Vought, but we've been in their pocket this whole time." 

"We're still fighting-" 

"You're Stan Edgar's daughter. We're in their pocket."

You press your hands to your face, squeezing. All the while you can feel Victoria watching. You ignore her. There's no point in talking to her, not anymore. You might not have known Victoria, but you know the Supe that committed a massacre. Her cover was blown. You were a leaking faucet she needed to turn off. 

"What now?" You ask, drawing up to look at her. "Are you going to kill me?" 

Her mouth twitches. Her eyes flicker with realization. A soft coo comes from her lips, utterly condescending. Suddenly, her posture changes: less intimidating, more welcoming. 

"Oh, sweetie, is that why you're so upset?" She shifts until you're trapped in her arms. You don't bother fighting. Your bravery has run out. Tears are already dripping down your cheeks. "You thought I was gonna...." There's a laugh spilling off her lips. You squeeze your eyes shut when she hugs you tighter. 

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Victoria says, a smile in her voice. "Not to you. Never to you." 

Her hands are so warm as she cradles your face, forcing you to look at her. It's a gentle type of cruelty, forcing you to face your fears while the monster gives you a beautiful smile. 

"I cherish you too much to do that." 

You must look so lost. She laughs even more at that. 

"Seriously? It wasn't obvious? C'mon, Zoe is crazy about you, she never shuts up. And I...I think it's better if I just..." 

Her lips are soft. Gentle. You don't kiss back. You can't. You're frozen in ice. 

"I won't hurt you." Then, her tone tightens just the tiniest bit. "You're friends and family, on the other hand..."

When she pulls away, she's the most relaxed you've ever seen her. You wish you could say the same. While her smile grows larger, so does the gaping hole in your stomach. 

You close your eyes, slumping in defeat.

"What do you want?" You plead. 

You can feel her lips press on your cheek. Victory.

When you walk through the door, Zoe looks elated. 

She calls your name with a delighted giggle, reaching out to hug you. You wish you could return her enthusiasm, but you can barely pat her head. 

"What're you doing here?" She asks when she's done hugging you, looking up at you with pretty eyes. Her eyes are much like her mother's; they just haven't lost their innocence yet. 

Neuman steps in, a strong hand on your shoulder. That same gentle smile that holds the comfort a mother has for her daughter. 

"Gas leak, right?" She turns to look at you. "Real nasty. So, I offered our home for a little while." 

Zoe nods. She's the only thing so far that's remained stagnant. Maybe that's why you're more than eager to listen to what she did at school that day. She rambles on and on, and there's nothing left to say anymore. Until Victoria sends her daughter to bed. 

"It's probably best to keep the real reason hush-hush," she tells you later, shutting the master bedroom. 

You're seated pliantly on the bed, watching her shrug off her cardigan. The mattress sinks underneath your weight. Silk covers. It's too big for just one person. 

You're not a captive, she explained in the back of her fancy black car. You could roam around, meet up with friends, call people, do whatever your heart desired. It would just be under her eyes from now on. 

"A safeguard." She charitably explained, perfectly manicured fingernails drumming on her thigh. "Just so you don't do something we both might regret." 

You don't know if she'd been telling the truth when she insisted your head was off-limits, but you knew she had your family's names and addresses. So you sat pliantly in that car, pliantly listened to Zoe, and pliantly followed Victoria into her bedroom. 

On paper, you weren't a captive. But you and Victoria both knew better. 

"Is Zoe also...?" You trail off, averting your eyes when she unbuttons her blouse. You can hear her clothes drop to the floor as she unabashedly rifles through her drawer. 

"No," Victoria answers. And then your heart drops when she adds. "Not yet." 

You shudder, but she's already sitting next to you. She coaxes you to look at her with a hand on your cheek. Even dressed down, she's gorgeous. Unblemished skin was barely covered by a silk gown. 

You think she looks just as upset as you. Maybe even more. She pets your cheek thoughtlessly. 

"When I brought you to my bed for the first time, I thought things would be different, somehow." She laughs. It sounds bitter. 

"I never wanted this. Not for us," Victoria says, "but-but there's nothing else I can do. It...." 

A tear drips down your face. She's pushing it away. 

'You'll be okay." A kiss to your temple. "I know you will." Lips at your cheek. 

When she finally gives into her inhibitions and kisses you, you know she was lying about it all. 

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Mine

Luke Castellan x Reader

Requested by: @officiallenalove like imagine the reader is like a daughter of Poseidon and we know he’s not around most of the time and she meets Luke and they like fall in love but she’s never known what healthy love looks like so it’s low key angsty but happy at the same time yk?

Summary: "You are the best thing that's ever been mine"

Warning: crappy parents, angst, self doubt

Word Count: 2k

Masterlist

A/N Sorry this took so long I had a hard time choosing which lyrics/moments I wanted to write

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

Godly parents were always deadbeats. It was just a fact of half-blood life. But after spending years thinking I had no father, I was thrilled to have been claimed by Poseidon. It was naïve of me to think that just because he claimed me he’d be a good father just because I knew of his existence. I spent night after night praying to him, looking for some sense of guidance from him but never receiving anything. Eventually I learned not to bother with him or anyone else.

My mom had let me down enough times that I knew it wasn’t just gods that let you down. When she finally told me about my father she told me I’d be moving to a strange place. Not for my safety but because she didn’t want to take care of the daughter of the god that broke her heart. She complained endlessly on the drive over that my father never even bothered to offer her immortality, rather last she heard of him he was falling in love with another woman on Long Island.

She was dead to me after she dumped me at camp with hardly a goodbye. And then my father was dead to me when I begged for his help but received nothing.

~

I was a flight risk, with a fear of fallin' / Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts

Most of the other campers felt the same about their godly parents but it seemed like the only one who really understood was Luke.

“I mean, it’s like we’re nothing to them,” Luke ranted to me. We rant to each other a lot. “We’re just byproducts of their mistakes.”

“Gods, I hate men,” I groaned, lying back in the grass of the green. “Are all fathers this shitty?” I asked, looking up at Luke. I squinted into the sun as I peered at him accusingly. He moved his hand to block the sun from my eyes.

“I wouldn’t know from personal experience but I wouldn’t be this shitty,” he smiled cheekily down at me. He moved to lay back too, resting on his elbow. “I’d never abandon you.”

I could feel my chest tighten and I hoped it wasn’t apparent on my face. I just laughed, gently pushing his chest in a playful manner, hoping I was sparing him any embarrassment by making him think I thought he was joking. “You wish. You’d probably leave once the first diaper change comes.” I couldn’t even begin to consider loving him—or anyone—enough to feel abandoned by him. Thanks to my parents I felt more than enough abandonment.

He gave me a forced laugh as I sat up. “Yeah probably. I’d just be the fun dad.”

~

Do you remember, we were sittin' there by the water? / You put your arm around me for the first time

Later that day I found myself sitting on the beach of the Long Island Sound. The ocean was always sort of a sore spot for me because it was just a reminder of my father but it still felt calming. Like I belonged despite my father’s indifference.

As I stared out into the sound, zoning out, I let my mind wander to the conversation I had with Luke. That wasn’t the first time he had tried to hint at his feelings and he was a great guy but I couldn’t trust him. I didn’t have faith that he—or anyone for that matter—wouldn’t just let me down. How could I trust I wouldn’t let him down.

I was interrupted from my thoughts by the man himself. “Hey, can we talk?” he asked, coming to stand next to me. I just wordlessly gestured for him to sit next to me. He complied, taking a few breaths before looking at me. “I’m just gonna come right out and day it: I like you,” he rushed. “You don’t have to like me back or anything but I need to know that you know.”

I stared at him, my mouth agape. I hadn’t expected his boldness. “Um…” I had to take a second to structure my thoughts. “Luke, you’re a great guy. Any girl would be lucky to have you but you don’t want me.”

“Actually, I do I just said it,” he chuckled, trying to release some tension.

I laughed with him. “No, I mean I don’t think I can give you what you want. I’m not the best with feelings and I’m not entirely convinced that you, and everyone else in my life, won’t just leave me when it’s convenient.”

“Hey,” Luke chided gently, throwing an arm over my shoulder to bring me closer, “I meant what I said I'm not gonna abandon you. And if you’re scared, that’s fine, we can take this slow. If you really just don’t want a relationship that’s fine. I’ll still be by your side no matter what.”

Tears pricked my eyes at how thoughtful and caring he was being. Fortunately he couldn’t see them because my head was resting on his shoulder. “Okay,” I agreed, “I want to try taking things slow with you.” His grip on me tightened as he held me a little closer, like he was so excited you just have to squeeze something.

~

Braced myself for the goodbye / 'Cause that's all I've ever known

Things were great for a few months. Every time I began to doubt our relationship, Luke was there to help me. Giving me constant assurances and telling me how much he loved me. So much so that I started to feel like a burden to him. Like I was just a task he had to get through every week.

“Hey,” Luke announced his presence as he entered my cabin, “I haven’t seen you all day, what’s up?” he asked, looking around the cabin.

“J-just a second!” I called from a storage closet. I quickly wiped my tears and steeled myself, willing myself to look normal. Realizing he’d be wondering why I was in the closet, I grabbed a random blanket from one of the shelves. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the closet with a smile. “Hey.”

His face immediately dropped. “What’s wrong?”

Curse my puffy eyes. “Nothing,” I answered. He approached me but I just slid past him, dropping the blanket onto my bunk. “Why?”

“Your eyes are all red. What’s wrong?” he asked again. Once again trying to touch me but I just backed away.

“Must be dust or something in the closet,” I tried to dismiss.

His face hardened. “C’mon, Y/N I know something’s wrong. I don’t want you to hide things from me. I want to take care of you.”

At his words the dam broke and all the thoughts and feelings I had been dealing with bubbled over. “I don't want you to have to take care of me!” A look of hurt appeared on his face and my heart ached for him. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, I do. I just don’t think it’s fair to you to have to comfort me whenever anything little happens. It’s pathetic,” I spat at myself.

“Hey, no, you’re not pathetic,” Luke assured me.

“You’re not listening to me,” I insisted. “How can you possibly want to be with me when I do nothing but drain you?” I stared at him, waiting for him to realize that I was a leech and leave for his own sake. But instead, he just looked endeared.

“Y/N, you are the best thing that’s ever been mine. I don’t want you to ever think that you’re a burden to me. I love you and I love that I'm the one who brings you comfort. So please, just let me love you.”

My resolve broke and I went to him, letting Luke pull me into his chest. “What did I do to deserve you?” I cried into the warmth of his chest.

“I ask myself the same,” he returned, pressing a kiss to my head.

Masterlist

[multific]

Maybe In Another Life

King Baldwin IV x Reader

Warnings: Mention of smut, Illness, Mourning, Death

Summary: A short piece about a King who was doomed to die early and his Queen.

You were promised to him before either of you were even born.

You were married by the time you were 13. He was 14 years old.

And you loved him.

You loved how smart he was. How gentle and kind he was. 

Your love for him started when you began to grow older, you got used to one another.

You loved him.

Then, he started to get more and more sick. It scared you. The thought of losing him petrified you.

You tried to ignore his illness, you tried to act as if everything was fine. But you couldn't hide it for long. 

He was a strong soul, but his body was weak. 

You remember the night of your wedding when you had to consummate your marriage. It was a night you would never forget.

It was the first time you laid with him. It was the first time you felt truly loved. 

Even if you wanted to, tried to, there was only ever one time when he gave himself to you. 

You seduced him, not giving him an option, you laid in his bed, bare and presented yourself to him. It was his 16th day of birth before his illness got worse.

He began to wear the mask, never letting anyone touch him.

You loved him, it was simple yet complicated.

But you knew he loved you. 

His actions showed it to you. 

The garden he built just for you, was grand and gorgeous.

"Just like you, My Wife." he would say. "This garden will be the proof of my love for you and of your beauty for the upcoming centuries." 

How he loved your smile. 

But then, you were sitting next to him as he was taking his last breaths. Your tears falling, you couldn't control them.

"I will miss you greatly." you said as he moved his hand and allowed you to take it.

One last touch.

"I love you," he said and you smiled, allowing him to see it right as he died.

You took a deep breath and placed a kiss on his mask. 

"I love you too." you said as you broke down sobbing. 

You visited his grave daily.

In the beginning, you didn't even leave it for days.

They will crown a new King, and people will move on, but not you. 

Barely a year passed and you were lost. You had nothing and no one to live for.

You still visited your husband's grave daily, hoping he would wake up, hoping he would come back to you, but he never did.

Your mourning caused you to become sick.

In the hopes of joining your husband in the afterlife, you prayed and begged for death until the day it finally took you.

You joined him in death as you wished.

The wife of King Baldwin IV was placed to rest next to him, your rightful place, right by his side. 

Maybe in another life, you two would meet again, hopefully, that time it will be right. 

----

They say you don't remember your past life, but the feeling stays with you.

It is why a person who you know you have not met, might feel familiar. In a past life, you might have known them.

Then, there are people who claim to remember their past life. Who say they found their true love once again.

You used to laugh at those people.

But not today.

Not when you couldn't look away from him.

He stood right across the other side of the street. Occasionally, cars obstructed your view, but he was there.

With each passing car, you feared he would disappear.

But he didn't.

His eyes were glued to yours.

A familiar feeling flooded you, you knew him but you never met him.

You would remember such a handsome face, he was tall, lean yet built, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Nothing spectacular.

But he looked amazing in your eyes.

Soon, he crossed the road, and you felt your heartbeat pick up.

You didn't move as he walked closer to you.

He was even taller up close.

"My Wife." he said and it felt so right.

You have never seen this man in your life. And yet, you remembered him.

"My King." you said as tears fell from your eyes.

"I remember learning about you in history class. The Mourning Queen of the Leper King." he stepped closer, lifting his hand to your cheek, and you smiled.

"I told you before, I couldn't possibly live without you." he smiled as you leaned closer, grabbing his shirt to pull him down.

And now, you could kiss him freely.

Your past was filled with love and pain. You both will make sure that this life will be a happy one.

You both pulled away from the kiss and spoke in sync.

"I love you."

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, OR TO STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[zevrra]

in the dead of night—

synopsis: you’ve been losing sleep recently; all thanks to a certain incubus slipping into your room every night. do you give in to temptation once again?

wc: 5.6k

includes: f!reader, aphrodisiac, handjob, 69, dirty talk, edging, vaginal penetration, creampie, mating press, breeding, && incubus!toji

You’ve been struggling to sleep recently. Day in, day out, you’ve had the worst nightmares. As you and your damn luck would have it you only ever remember some small moments from these dreams. A flash of a dark haired man, if you could even call him that, with a wicked smirk; along with a set of fangs sharper than any knife you’ve ever held. You can’t remember exactly what he looks like but every time your eyes close you can see his blurry silhouette. You don’t know him and with your lack of sleeping because of him; you’re not sure if you ever want to know.

You sigh, followed by an exhausted yawn, as you sit in your living room. You’ve tried everything to cure you of your nightmares. From tea to therapy, taking a relaxing bath before bed, nothing helped. You knew praying would do nothing to help you, not this far along in this mess, but you would try it anyway. You take your herbal infused bath, drink your tea, stay away from sweets, before finally crawling into bed. New pajamas, fresh sheets, anything and everything to make you comfortable enough to sleep all night long.

Eyes heavy you lay back onto you awaiting bed. And as your head hits the pillow you slip into unconsciousness.

The dream begins in your room. It’s dark, pitch black, but you can hear a storm beginning just outside your window. You lay on your back and everything is fine until you feel strong hands run along your body. You can’t move, you can only see the blur of a shadow creeping across your bedroom as the storm rolls in outside. You don’t have to clearly see his face to know exactly who it is sneaking into your room.

“Oh good,” You mutter in a sarcastic tone as you manage to sit up, just to look at the edge of your bed where the man from your said nightmares sits. “Thought maybe I was finally going to be able to sleep all night long tonight.”

The blur of the man chuckles at your sarcasm as he creeps closer to where you sit. A strong hand moves to brush against your shin as equally strong fingers pull your covers away from your body. “Oh shut up. You know you love it brat.” The man fires back at you as one of his hands now grabs hold of your ankle, yanking you closer to where he sits. “I come in every night and you always end up begging me for more.” He adds with a wicked smirk as he flashes the tip of his demon tongue.

You blush under his accusation. Of course you never really remember anything from these little encounters except for two things; this demon with his bad attitude and that the sex within these dreams was always really, really fucking good. Still wasn’t a great excuse for your recent exhaustion as no matter how good it was you needed some damn sleep.

Nails run up into your inner thigh as a distraction from your thoughts of sleep. Who would want to sleep right now when the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes upon is inching closer and closer. You’ll forget his face by the time you wake up in the morning but for now you’d stare as much as you’d like. From his dark blue eyes, sharp even in the dead of night, along with his ridiculously handsome face, and the mysterious scar slanted across his pretty lips that were pouting your way.

His chin rests against your propped up knee as his hands inch closer to the hem of your pajama shorts, brushing along just underneath it. “Ya ready to kiss and makeout yet?” The demon asks in a sly tone as if he already knows what your answer is going to be.

One more sleepless night wouldn’t hurt…right?

“Fuck you.” You mutter back in a weak attempt to make it seem like you had any kind of upper hand. You lift a hand out towards him in annoyance but fuck if you didn’t want him just as bad as he wanted you. It had something to do with the amount of times he had snuck into your room, just like he had done tonight, and fucked you senseless. Even his own desire was clear behind that cocky facade of his.

The demon chuckles in amusement, wings flexing behind his rather broad back, tucking away, tail flicking out of your line of sight as well, just as his hands grab hold of your waist and with ease he hauls you up and into his lap. “Always so bratty,” The incubus teases with a flash of sharp teeth while his hands push up beneath your pj top, removing it from your person. He then tosses it over his shoulder and discards it to your bedroom floor where he thinks it rightfully belongs. Now his strong hands return to your warming skin, presses calloused palms over your waist and moves them upwards until he’s groping your breast. He rolls your nipples between his fingers before giving one a firm tug, making you shudder followed by a soft gasp. “Guess I’ll just have to fuck the brat right outta ya.”

You can’t help but glare down at the creature before you. In all his wicked glory as he grins up at you. “Go ahead and try.” You tease right back. Your words must have struck a nerve. His eyes light up ever so slightly at the thought of this now becoming something like that of a game.

And he was not a loser.

His fingers pinch your nipples again, a little harder than last time, and you stubbornly hold your voice back. You would do your best to seal your lips so you don’t give him the pleasure of knowing he won. Even if you knew it would not last long, from countless nights of passion you spent with this demon and knew how good things were, you were going to make him work a little harder for it this time.

He moves in to kiss you then. If you weren’t going to speak up he was going to keep your mouth busy with something else. His long demon tongue flicks out to lick across your chin before he presses it against your lips. “Open.” He hums, knowing damn good and well you weren’t going to comply with anything he asked for right now. And you keep your lips closed just like he knew you would. One hand moves away from your breast to grab hold of your jaw, forcing you to look down at him entirely, as his tongue flicks across your lips again. “Brat.” He warns with a soft squeeze to your jaw.

You roll your eyes as you finally settle into his lap. Knees on either side of his waist while your hands run up his broad chest, over the tight fit black of his shirt before your fingers move around his neck and pull against black strands of his hair. “Just fucking kiss me.”

The demon laughs but meets you halfway in your first of many tonight. His lips are pressed directly against yours as he finally kisses you. Giving you no time to adjust as his long demon tongue slips inside your mouth. You gasp at the intrusion but he presses on, continues to explore your mouth as your lips clash together. You stifle a moan against his lips and instead grind yourself down against him, making sure to press into his gray sweatpants with a good amount of your weight. You weren’t going to be the only needy bitch in this situation.

You can feel the demon smirk against your lips as his hands return to your tits. He grips your flesh, pressing up into your body as much as he could while his lips continue to mesh with your own. You can feel his tongue wrap around yours just before he unexpectedly tilts his head back to break the kiss.

His tongue uncurls from the inside of your mouth, leaving only the several strings of saliva connected from his lips to your own. The feeling and sensation of it all makes you shudder. Causing you to clench your thighs around him as a tingle of pleasure shoots down your spine.

He grabs ahold of your wrist then, pressing your palm right up against his half hardening cock beneath his sweatpants. A flash of sharp teeth and lust filled eyes tells you all you need to know about what he wants you to do; doesn’t stop him from saying it though. “Come on baby…I’m not gonna be doin’ all the work tonight.”

You want to mock him in return but you bite your tongue. You settle with a strong heave of your chance before leaning forward to kiss him once again. Your hand he had previously placed on himself begins to stroke him above his sweatpants. You feel the girth of his semi-hard cock and you’re almost shocked at his size. Maybe you just don’t remember from your previous dreams but this demon was…huge; larger than anyone you had previously slept with. Even half hard you can feel the girth and how your hand barely manages to wrap around the fullness of his cock. You can’t even imagine how big he’ll be once he’s fully aroused and somehow the thought terrifies you a little. You knew the sex was good but not at the cost of your entire womb being fucked. You swear when he ends up finally, fully hard, he’d be damn near the size of your forearm.

Somehow the demon can sense your hesitation as his hand moves to grab your own, wrapping his fingers around your wrist just to get your hand moving. “Don’t worry, it’ll work soon.” The man mumbles against your lips. His tongue slithers across his own wet lips as his hand continues to guide your fingers. From the base to the tip of his slowly stiffening cock. You tremble ever so slightly as you now feel him fully hardening beneath your touch and he groans against your lips in return for making him feel good. Gives you just a little bit of a taste for what’s to come.

“W-wait? What’s working?” You ask in a pant as you slowly jerk him off. Pushing your hand eagerly beneath his waistband, with his help of course, as you grab his full stiff cock now. Moving your wrist up and down the best you could in your position beneath his waistband. You didn’t think much of what his words meant, would find out sooner or later, especially when everything was becoming a little too foggy. The only goal in your mind was to jerk him off. To make him come into your hand with only your hand so you could tease him about it.

But he doesn’t answer you. Just flashes that devilish grin of his at you and your cluelessness.

You continue on, doing your best to ignore the demon and his words. What you were doing now didn’t require any words and you made it a point by pressing your thumb into the head of his cock. The feeling of precum against your skin and drawing a nice sigh out of the demon leaves you quite satisfied with your handiwork. So you keep your rhythm going. Needed more and more of his undoing just as much as you needed yours. And as you stroke him nice and slow, pulling every grunt you can from the other, his lips find your jaw. His single hand stays on your own, following every single one of your tedious strokes, while his other hand gropes at your ass. And he rubs your ass all nice and slow, matching your pace, as his lips move further down to your exposed throat. He runs his tongue along a path of one of your more prominent veins before his teeth scrape across your skin. The feeling of his fangs moving along your throat forces you to shudder. A dangerous chill runs down your body, setting off a numbing sensation beneath your skin. And it leaves you shocked at your body's strange reaction. It was just a simple touch yet it felt like your entire body was beginning to tremble with lust— like a strange fire burning within. You were kissing and stroking him off. There was nothing to warrant why your body was so…reactive right now.

The man chuckles against your skin, sending another shiver down your spine, as he removes your and his hand equally from beneath his sweatpants; where he places a kiss against the back of your slick hand. “Feelin’ it yet?” He asks in a hushed tone, making a point to his own words by sliding his hand from your ass around your hip and in a straight line down between your thighs, making sure to press his knuckles against the front of your pj shorts; right up against your slowly aching pussy.

Lightning shoots across your body at the simple touch. Even your fingertips tingle from the press of his knuckles against your lower half. A rough shiver has you visibly shuddering in his lap as a moan rips from between your lips against your will.

You’re far more sensitive than you had ever been before. This was all just a dream there was no way you’d be feeling it…this much. Especially not from a simple makeout and some teasing. You lean back to stare down where his hand rubs against your pj shorts. Fingers pressing and sliding along the length of your pussy in the same slow motion you had previously been doing to him. Causing you to cry out in alarm. But he doesn’t stop, continues to rub between your trembling, aching thighs; turning you into a muttering mess.

“What! What did you do?” You sob just as he presses the flat of his demonic palm against your ever growing sensitive core. The heat of his hand sends a fiery jolt through your entire body but just as quickly as he places it, he removes it, definitely to tease you even more.

“Don’t worry. Just a little aphrodisiac to help loosen you up,” The demon replies truthfully. He doesn’t give you the chance to process anything as he’s changing positions before you can complain.

The lust, heat, and passion of it all was turning your mind into one giant goopy mess and it didn’t help in the slightest that the aphrodisiac he had somehow managed to slip you was turning all these emotions up to an 11.

“A demon’s tongue is very tricky, ya know.” He says from beneath you, forcing you to turn and look at him. By some dream magic he’s discarded his black shirt and sweatpants, and of course not wearing anything else underneath those sweatpants, as you hover above him on your hands and knees.

You look over your shoulder in a red hot flush of embarrassment at the new position but he simply continues to smirk that shit eating grin of his. Nails run up the back of your thighs before sinking into your pj shorts where all the fabric is quickly ripped off your body and gone without a second thought. Except you would’ve gladly just taken off the pj’s if he had asked.

“Fuck—“ You start to say but he cuts you off as his demon tongue is working its way across your inner thigh. He leans casually against your pillows, ‘asshole’, as your pussy sits dangerously close to his face, while on the flip side your mouth is damn near inches from his awaiting, massive self. He stands tall and proud and even bigger than you had imagined. You whine at the sight but you can’t even bring yourself to remove your gaze from the wet tip.

He continues to dance around the edges of your core, teasing you in the worst way possible. Licking ever so close to your drooling center but never quite touching it where you want—no where you fucking needed it.

Damn him and his twisted, sick ways.

“Hey,” The demon mumbles, making sure to rip your attention away from your desires. “You gonna keep bein’ a brat?” He hums in a sickly sweet tone. Licking a rather long path along your sensitive inner thigh and just stopping before your pussy. The edging leaves you gasping for air. While your lower half at this point is begging for the attention that he was refusing to give you.

You grunt in frustration and decide to ignore him. Moving your hands to grasp at the base of his cock before your mouth is wrapping around his slick head. Can’t talk if your mouth is full and it definitely was full. You begin to suck him off to avoid accidentally begging him to eat you out, you wouldn’t resort to begging just yet, so you keep your mouth busy.

It doesn’t faze him in the slightest. Even if you aren’t looking at him you already know he’s smiling away as his fingers massage around your thighs and the end of your ass. He retracts his tongue just to replace the slow motion of its flicking with his thumb. He draws circles along your drenched, sensitive core; his thumb just barely scratches the itch you so desperately crave but still not enough. It wasn’t enough. You could feel your own slick dripping from your aching pussy and with the burn in your womb it was making it all too hard to focus on your task at hand.

But you force yourself to continue. Your mouth works on his twitching cock to the best of your ability. Sucking him off like your life depended on it and while he fills your mouth, his scent settles in your nose. The mix of his scent and the aphrodisiac in your veins is a very dangerous combo against your resolve. His taste, smell, the lingering of his touch on your body was easily chipping away your attitude. Slowly deforming you into the whiney bitch in heat he so desperately wanted to see.

God his scent is strong. Overpowering your sense of reason as your mind becomes all too foggy and hazy in every which way while his cock remains in your mouth. You slide down onto his shaft, forcing your gag reflex to turn non-existent for the moment.

Your tongue lays flat against the underside of his cock as you take more of him into your mouth. Head bobbing up and down with every suck while your hands only manage to grip his thighs for any some support.

“My, my, look at you,” The demon laughs in a proud tone as he watches and feels your eagerness in blowing him. You barely hear him but manage to suck at his head, the obvious weak-spot. The feeling has him grunting beneath you. A win. “So eager now…” He coos. But like the demon he is, he wants nothing more than to throw you off. Even if he was feeling good, annoying you was probably more fun.

He lets you continue your little defiance blowjob for just a moment longer until he’s had enough of just watching. His thumb sinks inside of your pussy in one quick motion.

Lightning shoots across your entire body at the sudden intrusion. Randomly getting the satisfaction of what you had craved for far too long is overwhelming to your body and it almost makes you cum. You take your mouth off of his hardening cock. Sobbing, pathetically, into the air with your head rolling to the side limp. Your hips buckle just as your hands also can no longer support your top half fully and you fall onto your elbows.

You would blame the damn drug for your weakness.

“Fuck! Fuck,” You curse, fingers tangling into the sheets of your bed. Your eyes fall shut tightly as you focus on not letting this demon bring you to your orgasm yet. Even if the tension in your lower half was hotter than molten lava right now and begging to be released. “You!”

The demon snickers as he removes his thumb from inside of your core. Watching your body tremble and shake, pussy throb and drip with slick for more. “What? Got somethin’ to say now?” He whispers as his long tongue licks across his soaked thumb.

“I-” You start, speaking through clenched teeth. You couldn’t deny it anymore. The simple touch of his has your entire body going crazy. You can’t focus on being a brat anymore. The dominating feeling of your need for him outweighs your pride in proving a point anymore and you were bound to snap. “Dammit, you’ve had your fun! Now, fuck, just…please!” You beg as sweet as you possibly can. Finding enough strength to turn ever so slightly to look back at the demon. “Please.”

He bites his bottom lip at your sudden eye contact and your, very successful, begging. And he doesn’t say anything to settle your feverish desire, instead you watch as he leans forward. You feel his long tongue press against your aching pussy, finally, finally, giving you some form of relief. His tongue is quick to sink into your core as he eats you out like you’re a meal to a starving man. His nose is flush against your skin as he presses his entire mouth over your soaking wet center.

Now that you are getting the much needed attention between your thighs, moans fall far easier from your lips. Your hand weakly moves back to his cock as you attempt to keep him hard while his tongue thrusts inside of you and his fingers brush up against your clit. You sob into his skin as you barely manage to move your hand under his work. Your body tingles at every flick, curl, press, and lick of his tongue. The tight twist of your orgasm is setting in far too fast and yet you somehow still don’t want to give into it. Not yet, you wanted more.

“I can’t…no more!” You cry in a broken, shrill voice. You manage to shake your head as quickly as you can, removing your hand away from his weeping cock as you try your best to get him to stop. “Please! Just…want you!”

The demon hums in amusement but doesn’t stop even with your pleas ringing in the open air. He continues his rhythm and even adds to it, pressing a lone finger inside along with his tongue; and your pussy begs for release. You can hear how lewd your pussy sounds with the addition of his finger. The sloppy wet noises would haunt you the next time you woke up and you were sure to remember the betrayal of your own body he fooled around with.

But you can’t take him fingering you and that devilish long tongue of his that managed to reach even deeper than his finger. “Please…” You beg one last time as your impending orgasm is coming in hot. Can feel the coil of your lust beginning to wind up deep inside your lower half. He pulls you closer and closer to shoving you over that edge with every curl of his finger but at the last second, when he knows you’re going to come, he pulls entirely away. His finger and tongue slip out of your pussy before giving you the chance to come.

You never would’ve guessed you would be thankful for the relief of not reaching an orgasm but god tonight, was the first of many. You go limp against his legs and pant like you’ve just ran a race. An uncontrollable shudder racks through your body at the loss of your approaching orgasm but you’d have time to find it again later. Somehow, you manage to laugh. For the big bad demon listened to you and your little pleas. You weakly switch your position to turn and face him, a smile on your face now to rival his own. His eyes are deep and dark with lust as he stares at you. A smile to mimic your own but god his lips and jaw are soaking wet from the slick of his previous meal— the sight makes your pussy throb.

“Aw, what a good boy. You listen so well.” You hum as your hands spread out across his broad chest. His hands settle on your thighs, rubbing gently into the thick of them, as he waits for you to speak while also giving you the time to come down from your previous high. “Now…you gonna fuck ‘the brat out of me’, or what?”

The demon laughs at your statement, nodding ever so slightly. His hands move to your waist and he squeezes your body ever so gently. “Lift your hips then, brat.” He hums in response. Using the term brat now as if it’s some sort of sweet sentimental nickname. It was nothing but a tease.

You do as you’re told though, with the help of his guiding hands, you manage to lift yourself to line up with the head of his cock. You roll your hips in his grasp ever so slightly to brush against the head of his waiting cock; and the small touch sends a wave of ecstasy through your chest. And what you hope is going to be a slow start for you and him, solely so you may get adjusted to how big he is, well you were wrong. For in one swift motion, his hands guide you down while his hips rise to meet you and before you can blink you’re fully sitting on his cock as it buries deep into your center.

Your body spasms as the sudden electricity of your orgasm rips right through you. And you can’t help it as your mouth falls open in a mix of a moan and a cry as your unexpected climax sets your whole body ablaze. You mutter incoherently as your body falls limp against his chest, hips rocking to get any sort of friction to ride out the pleasure plummeting through your veins.

Your orgasm lasts a few fiery seconds while he stays put inside of you. The quick high to the beginning of a hard crash has your grip on his shoulders weakening while sleep threatens to pull you under.

But the demon wasn’t finished with you just yet.

“Not this time. You’re not gonna get the chance to fall back asleep.” The demon mumbles into the crown of your head as his grip on your waist tightens. You feel your body shift higher up on his chest as his knees prop up, giving him almost entirely every bit of control he could ask for. Which meant trouble for you. “Don’t pass out on me now.” He whispers before his hips are snapping forward.

Your pussy burns with the stretch of his cock but you take all of him as he fucks into your already overstimulated core. He uses the grip on your waist to pull you down every time his hips rise to meet you. Each thrust sends a wave of mind numbing pleasure everywhere, even to the very tips of your toes. He fucks your pussy like his life depends on it. Grunts into your hair at the connection of your bodies. Meanwhile you do nothing but cry like a blubbering fool as he uses your body for his own pleasure.

And the most annoying part of it all?

You fucking loved every bit of it.

Turned you on to the point it started to wake you up again. Knowing he was using you to seek his own pleasure. He could’ve just as easily left you in this dream to move onto wherever else he goes but he chose to stay there with you. Because he wanted you; and he wanted you to make him feel good just as much as you wanted him. Made you feel a little better about yourself.

The demon must’ve noticed your mind wandering off somewhere else for his speed picks up tremendously. His thrusts are far more shallow but quicker now, as if he was getting desperate. You can’t help but laugh, or what you assume is a laugh, at the thought.

“Yeah? What’s so funny?” He asks with a more rougher thrust into your already overstimulated pussy.

You whine at the change up of his thrusts, panting against his chest as your grip slightly returns on his shoulders. “Y-you fucking love this!” You moan against his skin. Slightly propping yourself up to get a good look at the demon lying beneath you. Needed him to look into your eyes so he knew that you knew he enjoyed your shared night. “Just as much as I do.”

Maybe you should’ve been the demon instead.

The dark haired man laughs before in one swift motion, you find yourself on your back. You lay against your cool bed sheets, thunder, accompanied by the soft sound of rain, echoes somewhere off in the sky, while your ‘nightmare’ hangs above you. His stiff cock stays buried inside of you as his hands move from your hips to your ankles.

You had been getting fucked so well you didn’t even notice the demon’s crest appearing at your womb. It was your first time seeing it but you really couldn’t even bring yourself to care. Fuck it, so what if a demon had control over you? The worst thing in the world couldn’t be having sex with a demon, especially not a demon like the one deep inside of you and staring so lovingly down at you.

“Yeah. I fucking love it.” The dark haired man admits, blue eyes scanning quickly across your face. But you don’t get the chance to figure out what look he’s giving you when he’s back to thrusting inside of your pussy. His thick, strong arms wrap around your legs as he begins to move.

A moan is ripped from your lips as you grab the sheets beneath you. The same winding feeling of your orgasm is subtly making itself known once again. But something felt more intimate in his thrusts now. They were no longer shallow or a means to an end, every thrust was well placed. A little slower but far more drawn out and somehow more powerful. You’re just glad his dark blue eyes watch his cock disappearing inside of you rather than stare at your face. You’re not sure if you could handle it at the moment.

“What’s your—ah—name?” You gasp between pathetic whines as your hands move to grip the sheets beside your head. You can feel his gaze shift to look at you and in your vulnerable state you glance away. Embarrassed was an understatement seeing as you were just now asking for his name.

“Why ya wanna know? Wanna scream it or somethin’?” The man teases, pressing himself tighter against you. His hips never slow even as he speaks. And you know that same smirk he’s been wearing all damn night stays plastered on his stupidly handsome face.

“Y-yes.” You admit in your aphrodisiac state. Panting, moaning, whining at every thrust of his hips. Could feel your womb burning hot with his crest, begging for his seed.

The man laughs at you. Not even surprised at your honesty. It was his doing of course, why you couldn’t lie and had to give in to every bit of pleasure you desired. His hands sculpt along your thighs before your feet are meeting entirely too close to your head. A dangerous press, surely allowing him the room to finally kiss your womb.

“Toji.” He groans into the shell of your ear while he shifts your bent knees to settle on either side of his shoulders as he piledrives into your pussy. “Say it.”

His hips never stop moving and you can feel his black tail from before whip around and slither up against your thigh. The appendage is warm to the touch and gently burns against your skin, causing you to gasp; giving you the chance to finally speak the name of the demon who’s tormented your sleep for weeks.

“Toji!” You cry. Can feel the head of his cock kiss your cervix. The crest Toji had placed earlier on your womb glows a bright pink as he presses further inside of you; rushes you closer to your second orgasm. Overstimulated wasn’t even the right word for how you felt anymore. How he was making you feel with every long draw of his cock. You managed to be hot and cold all at the same time. The pleasure from his cock spearing you in half and the slight pain of his tail warming against your thigh; not to mention the crest pulsating along your lower half, sending waves of ecstasy scorching through your body.

It was all too much. Turning you back into nothing but a mumbling fool, screaming out a man’s name you barely knew. “Toji!” You sob in pleasure again and again. His name echoes in every corner of your room as you whimper for him. More and more, you wanted everything he could give you. And you never wanted to wake from this dream.

“Careful now,” Toji says, laughing softly into your ear as he pounds into your soaking pussy. “Keep sayin’ my name like that and I might just make you mine forever.” He hums with a wicked grin, moves to run his sharp fangs across your neck. “You wanna be mine?”

You can barely make out what he’s saying or really understand what he’s asking for. You don’t know, you don’t care, you just nod pathetically to his demands. “Yes, yes, whatever. Toji—please! Please!” You manage to respond. You resort to begging him to let you come. To finally give you the sweet release of the burning, pulsing lust pounding in your veins.

“Yeah, yeah. Come for me, baby.” Toji laughs once more against your skin before his teeth sink into your throat. His hand smooths over the crest on your stomach as he instructs you to give him all of you. And you do as you're told.

The teeth sinking into your flesh, the hot passion of the crest, Toji’s never ending thrusts, his sweet words, it all was too much now. Your mouth falls open in a mix of Toji’s name and a barely audible sob as your orgasm hits you like a truck. Your body tightens up, squeezing around Toji, who groans as your pussy convulses around him, as you are finally allowed to come for the second time. You whimper as Toji never stops thrusting through your orgasm, keeps going and builds it up, until your entire body returns to full on trembling. He doesn’t stop until he reaches his own orgasm. Presses his hand on your stomach, on the crest, directly above where his cock fucks into you. Where he then buries his entire self inside of you as he cums. A deep groan rolls off the demon’s tongue just as he removes his teeth from your throat. Allowing him to grunt through each rope of cum that he pushes inside of you.

You continue to moan even as his thrusts turn into a slow, rocking speed. Somehow you knew he was making sure your womb accepted his seed. Thrusting every bit of himself inside of you with that stupid smirk on his face. You watch, in your blurry state of post-orgasm, as Toji leans back to view his handiwork; staring directly at the crest he had placed against your womb. Watching as it glows one final time before dimming and turning into something that just looks like a pretty tattoo.

“Oh yeah,” He chuckles. The noise barely gets your attention as you’re slowly fading, losing consciousness as what you assume is your dream coming to an end. “You’re mine forever sweetheart.”

It’s the last thing you hear before succumbing back into the depths of sleep. Tomorrow you will wake once again exhausted from your dreams because of the one called Toji. Yet a small voice inside of your head whispered and hoped to wake up next to him tomorrow morning instead.

[casually-eat-my-soul]

I keep thinking about jealous pining desperate Stiles and Derek

But like specifically Stiles Seeing Derek kiss someone else.

Stiles goes to visit Derek at his loft and he walks into a scene from a hallmark movie. Derek is kissing some random women under fairy lights to the back drop of a sunset. Stiles feels like someone plunged their hand through his heart and infected with body with ice. He genuinely feels sick to his stomach.

Derek looks down at said person with a soft smile, thinking that this time he can be safe. Before turning and seeing Stiles. They lock eyes and stiles is so visibly distraught. Like in the “where’s my dad scene”. One tear sliding down his face, hands clenched, grasping at his chest as if to rip his heart out.

And Derek knows he fucked up, but he doesn’t know how. All he sees is Stiles in distress and he needs to fix it. Stiles base scent has changed in a split second, now deeply intertwined with misery. He immediately moves from his love interest towards Stiles. But Stiles won’t let Derek comfort him. When Derek grasps his wrists, He tries to pull away.

Stiles is inconsolable at this point, choking on his sobs, barely able to breathe, barely able to see. This only makes Derek more desperate, he’s trying to pull stiles into a hug but Stiles keeps fighting him. Derek’s mind is racing with an explain on why stiles is falling apart in front of him. He thinks of Scott and the sheriff, praying that they are both still alive. He’s now genuinely begging stiles to let him help, to tell him what’s wrong, but stiles keeps pushing Derek away.

Derek’s love interest moves to help but stiles screams when she touches him. In his shock Derek stumbles away from Stiles, but not before ripping her arm off of Stiles.

The room freezes as the both of them are just staring at each other, stiles still sobbing, Derek shaking with adrenaline or fear he doesn’t know. Before Stiles turns and runs out of his loft.

And then nothing is like it used to be. Not like the summer they spent together, not even like the days of when they first met. Stiles is so different with him. Derek can’t remember the last time he saw stiles smile, or his eyes. All he can see is the eyebags that match his own and bitten bloody lips. He barely speaks to Derek and when he does is tone is soft and flat. They no longer banter back and forth with each other exchanging friendly insults. He is a ghost of the stiles that Derek knew.

Stiles doesn’t reach out and touch him anymore, not in camaraderie or comfort. Derek’s skin is devoid of stiles scent. His scent hasn’t changed from that night, now overcome with depression, pain, and tears. But even so Derek would still prefer to carry it with him. Derek feels like he is watching stiles die.

And Derek is ripping his hair out of his skull. He going insane. He has tried to talk to stiles but at meetings Stiles wouldn’t even look at him, and the Stilinski house has been lined with wolfsbane.

He goes to Scott and Lydia for advice, or understanding, fuck at this point he’d even take a stupid riddle. But scott just twists his lips in disappointment while Lydia glares at him with more hatred than she does Peter. Which is really saying something.

Derek is getting more frantic as days pass and nothing changes. It’s starting to affect the pack. The betas are more snappy and uncomfortable. Derek, himself is having a had time keeping his shift under control. Anger isn’t helping, if only it’s making it worse, more feral.

This costs Derek.

One night when the pack is fighting the next big bad. Derek’s sleepless nights and being distracted nearly gets him killed. He only wishes he could go back to that day, he would spend it, from sunrise to sunset with Stiles. Just making him laugh and smile.

The last thing he sees before he collapses is Stiles eyes in the moonlight, glistening with tears, same as that night. Beautiful all the same. But still Derek smiles. He is at peace knowing that this will be the last thing he sees.

But he wakes up, and all he has of stiles is traces of his scent on his skin. Derek roars in anguish. He can feel his betas trying to hold him down, he can hear them screaming but it all fades to white noise. He understands nothing at this current moment but loss. His wolf won’t stop howling.

He doesn’t fight the pull of the wolf, as he falls under his instincts. At the back of his head he knows that the people he is fighting are his pack mate, his own betas. The smell of blood affronts his senses. But nothing can be felt but violent grief.

The wolves in his den are wary and hesitant to fight him, as they should be. He can hear more wolves coming, and the deafening heartbeat of prey. He snarls at the prey that moves closer to him, fulling intending the go for the kill. As he pounces on the prey pressing him to the ground, teeth reaching to sink into his neck, he feels Stiles hands on his chest and he stops. The scent of Stiles is all around him, and Derek presses his face to his neck. Keeping Stiles pinned to the ground.

Thus way stiles cannot escape, cannot leave Derek grappling with the thought of losing him. Another wolf tries to get closer, reaching for stiles but Derek snarls at him. Stiles talks to the wolf, —

“Don’t worry about it Scotty, I got it from here”

“You sure dude?”

“Yeah, take the wonder trio and get out of here. We’re good.”

— as Derek pulls him into his lap, face still pressed into the junction between neck and shoulder. Not even willing to miss even the vibrations of Stiles voice. The wolves leave and Derek can finally relax and enjoy the presence of Stiles.

Derek feels overwhelmed, after weeks of not interacting with Stiles he is now surrounded by him. His hands run through Derek’s hair, his voice floats in the air, his scent finally intermingling with his own. This idea of losing the heat of stiles body pressed against his, makes Derek pull stiles even closer.

He doesn’t know how long they sit together but when he comes out of the fog. Derek breaks. A complete reversal of the night he lost stiles. Derek is crying in ernest, pleading and apologizing over and over again. Stiles is hesitant when he places his hands on Derek cheek. But when Derek leans into it Stiles begins to wipe the tears from his face.

They both face each other with open expressions. Stiles struggles to finds words to explain to Derek but all he can get out is a broken repeat of Derek’s own apology.

Derek felt as if his heart couldn’t know anymore pain, but as Stiles choked out an apology he could feel another piece break. Derek was just relived that stiles was finally letting him comfort him. Derek pressed their foreheads together and took a deep breath. Waiting for stiles to following along with his breathing. When they both calmed down stiles Slumped exhausted into his chest. With a heavy limbs Derek picked him up and carried him to the bed. Derek’s bed.

Neither of them need to speak durning this time. Derek was reluctant to set Stiles down, to let go for even a second. Instead he settled for watching Stiles as they both undressed and fell into the bed. Finally after weeks of sleepless nights, unrest and nightmares, they both full asleep wrapped in each others arms.

Derek refuse to open his eyes when he awakes. Afraid that when he does, Stiles will be gone and this would be a cruel dream. So he keeps them closed even when he hear Stiles breathe hitch. Even as he hears his heartbeat pick up. Even as stiles trails his fingers over Derek’s face. But he does open them as stiles presses a kiss to his lips.

Derek kisses him back just as fiercely. And this leads to teary confessions — “Don’t fucking lie to me Derek please, I can’t take it, don’t fucking kiss me out of pity.”

“Never out of pity, Mi Vida, I never wish to part from you even again, I love you, Mieczyslaw, truly. I can finally breathe again.” — They spend the day in bed, only leaving to eat. Even then they are always touching the other in some way.

After this Scott and Lydia pull Derek aside and threaten him with extreme violence. Peter joyfully welcomes stiles to the family.

(Honestly this was a whole train wreck. I also had another idea/version where this was happening during the nogistune. Where Stiles goes over to Derek’s loft as the darkness around his heart fills heavier that day and he sees Derek kiss someone else. The this is what finally pushes stiles over and allows the nogistune to fully take over. And Derek is forced to listen to the fox gleefully tell him that this action nearly broke Stiles. That while turning feral Derek has to learn that his actions cost him another person he loves. That because of this stiles and Derek are turning into twisted version of themselves. But honestly a fox should have never underestimated how far a wolf would go for their mate)

My bad for the long post but if you made it to the end, welcome to the trenches and suffering in the misery with me.