#i see powerful women and i FOLD

[kavalyera]

i dont care if vtmb2 looks bad the whore in me says i fucking need her

[pasdetrois]

you'd think that after the nightmare circus that was the (social) media treatment of amber heard, people would learn to become a tad more skeptical when there are suddenly thousands of posts, videos, articles, etc. tarring and feathering another woman in the spotlight. silly me! i forgot this is a bone you can wave in front of the dog forever, because many people still view women as vicious caricatures by default, and not real human beings.

[telestorm]

i mean, ultimately the medarda-black rose plot wasn’t meant to do anything but (1) set up the noxus spinoff and (2) introduce mel has a champion but the fact that mel's arc within arcane had to be weakened for that reason is unfortunate. there’s a way to balance introducing her as a champion without stripping her of what made her story so compelling in the first place. while i did find the plot interesting, it really does pale in comparison to her narrative in season one. it could’ve been so much better had mel not been whisked away from piltover politics and her strongest relationships. but alas, what did we expect from the writers who claim they never know what she’s thinking.

[fragilef4wn]

kinky arcane women headcanons ☆ MDNI!!

f!arcane x f!reader - vi, caitlyn, jinx, mel, sevika

AN; SOMEONE SEDATE MEEE!!!!! my ass is too horny ok im OVULATING!!!! this is probably the dirtiest thing i’ve written and i’m spitting out fics i’ve had in the drafts for a while so CW; dirty talk, degrading language aka ‘slut,’ biting and marking, overstimulation, choking, power, blindfold, spitting (2k)

Vi - Breeding/voyeurism

Topping: Despite women not being able to get others pregnant, this doesn’t matter to Vi. She’ll have you folded over on your shared bed, gripping into the mattress as she slams into you — going at a brutal pace. Making you cum around her cock for the second time, sticky-white dripping out of your aching hole.

“You take me so well, such a greedy girl.”

Breathy moans as the other end of the strap rubs against her clit, intertwining with your own needy whines. She moves to hook one of your legs on her opposing shoulder, watching as the toy disappears into your tight cunt with each thrust.

“Fuck - ah! Gonna fill you up, make you a mommy. You want that, yeah? My pretty girl.”

Pseudo-feeling herself finish inside you, pretending that the cum dripping from your slit is your mixed fluids — filling you up with herself. Swear to fuck, she’s gonna pester that pretty-boy to engineer up some magic that’ll let this happen for real.

Bottoming: She likes making sure others know you’re hers. Slung over you in a sleazy-bar, sucking dark-hickeys into your neck — the smell of bitter beer and spicy aftershave attacking your senses, clinging to you so even when she’s not physically there, her presence is.

You’ll be stumbling back from the bar, tipsy with too-strong alcohol and her touch, street-lights dimly illuminating your figures. That’s when she’ll push you against bricked wall, arms hung around her neck as she grinds her knee into your clothed sex. Unbuckling her belt and letting her jeans and boxers hang off muscled hips, using her fingers to collect her wetness and smear it over your lips.

“You taste that? That’s what you do to me, pretty girl. You gon’ clean up your mess?” Grabbing at your chin gently, and facing it to her half-clothed pelvis — red hairs climbing to her bellybutton, glistening with smeared wetness.

Groaning when your slick tongue meets her clit, lapping her up like she’s the drink you two were just sharing two minutes ago. Her hand comes to grasp at your scalp, pulling you closer in to kitten-lick her slit, shoving herself into your face. Too enthralled in you, not caring to check and see if the streets are empty. If they want to watch then they can. Show everyone who you belong to.

Caitlyn - Brat-taming/degradation

Topping: Caitlyn relaxes on plush armchair, leather-clad hand moving to turn the page of her novel. You dig your fingernails into her shoulder, grinding sloppily against clothed leg. The harsh denim of her jeans chaffing against the flesh of your thighs, grinding against your clit. Huffing into her neck, you raise your hips and slam them back down onto her, trying to work up enough friction to come to your peak.

“Can’t cum?” Caitlyn mewls, mock sincerity, blue-eyes not even flickering up from her novel.

Your cheeks puff-up as you inhale, brows knitting together as you mumble a, “fuck you,” into her ear. Risky move, considering you’re currently knee-deep in a punishment from your last bratty-comment.

She wraps an arm around arched back, trapping you between her torso and bringing her face to yours. “Is that so?” She cocks her head, pensive yet still threatening. “Stand up.”

You whimper, shaking your head, “M’ sorry, I didn’t mean it.” But Caitlyn isn’t having it, directing you with a perfectly manicured index-finger. You stand up, vulnerable and naked to the bitter-air of the room. She leads you to the table standing next to the chair, pushing you so that the edge toys with your pussy. You grind on the polished oak, desperate for friction as rounded wood catches your clit. “You want to cum? Show me how desperate you are, and if I’m nice enough I’ll reward you.”

Drumming her fingers on the wood, she smirks and discards the book to the floor.

Bottoming: Caitlyn would lie herself onto cotton sheets, slender limbs snuggled on-top of the bed. Hair and body freshly washed, smelling of floral-soap and citrusy shampoo, not bothering with a towel letting the cool hit bare skin.

Allowing you to crawl onto the sheets after her, towel wrapped loosely around waist — another one ruffling through your hair, trying to dry it after your shared shower. She watches as your tits heave with every exhausted breath, nipples hardened at the cold air. She chews on her bottom lip, thighs opening so she can dip long fingers into her cunt. Caitlyn grinds into her hand, swollen, flushed clit circled by the base of her palm.

You glance over to her taunt, writhing body — chuckling as you watched her hump her own hand. “Shit Cait, you’re such a slut. Fucking yourself, don’t you have any shame?”

Caitlyn shakes her head, wetness now dripping onto previously clean sheets, letting out a strangled moan, “I need you.”

You snort at her desperation, moving to replace her fingers with yours as she bucks into you. “What am I going to do with you?” You tease, “What a pathetic mess.”

Jinx - Marking/overstimulation

Topping: It’s mid-afternoon when Jinx lays you on her work-bench. Shirt pulled up to collarbones, multi-coloured lights dancing on exposed skin. Jinx swipes her tongue down sternum, licking at your stomach and running teeth along the hem of your pants. You gasp when teeth embed into your side, sharp pain radiating from your waist. Jinx releases your flesh, feeling a vibration as she chuckles into your body.

She stumbles next to her, reaching amongst messy-desk to pull out a neon-pink marker, waving it in front of your face. She takes the cap off with her teeth, hooking her fingers around your pants and tugging them down. The ink is cold as it glides across you, Jinx circling the bite mark she’s stamped into your skin.

Jinx moves the pen down, right above your pubic-bone. She scribbles something, giggling to herself. The heat of the shimmer in her veins thrumming, unable to keep herself patient any longer — she lunges forward.

Her mouth meets your cunt. Lips wrapping around your clit, sucking the nub into her warm, welcoming mouth. She digs her nails, chipped blues-pinks, into your thighs, leaving half-crescents into swollen skin. You thrust up to her tongue, ears ringing as you come to your peak as she laps up the escaped wetness spilling from your pussy.

Later, when you stumble across a reflective surface, you lift up your shirt to reveal teeth-marks sunken into skin. Along with messy, capitalised ‘JINX WAZ HERE.’

Bottoming: Lights bounce off skin as you grind down into Jinx. The makeshift tent fluttering with the wind created by thrusting motions. Slick gliding together, smearing up thighs and abdomen. Jinx curls, letting out a shaky breath as heat pools in her lower belly. Hips rutting with frenzy as you bring her to her third release of the night.

Usually perky Jinx sighs with fatigue, hands stilling your gyrating hips. “Please… I can’t…”

You drag your tongue over your lips, leaning down to whisper into her ear, “Give me one more.”

Tilting Jinx’s bony pelvis to you, weaving thighs together and pressing her heat to yours. Her clit is swollen as it slides against yours, picking up considerable friction as you quicken the pace. Minutes later, Jinx twitches uncontrollably again, muttering pleases and silent sobs into the graffitied floors of her hideout.

Mel - Choking/filming

Topping: Mel will bend you over her desk, her fingers sliding down your nape, golden rings cold on skin. She buries her face into your neck, pressing heated kiss down sensitive flesh, her loose hair coiling down her face and tickling your shoulder. You press palms to her desk, trying to steady yourself as one of her hands snake down your body to the crux of your legs. You both simultaneously moan when her fingertips brush against wetness.

Bringing her other hand up your neck, shoving two fingers down your throat. You gag, spit trickling down your chin as her fingers slip over your tongue, hooking into your jaw — making you completely complacent to her. She presses circles on your clit, moving up and down, your thighs parting under the pleasure in turn giving her more access to spread lips open, dipping into your entrance. As her hands work you open, the two fingers coated in saliva draw back to neck, squeezing lightly. Your head comes back to rest against the dip of her shoulder, her hand bathed in golden divinity shutting off airways momentarily.

“Don’t fight it,” she hisses.

The intensity of your orgasm hits like a brick, tension around your throat adding to the pressure. Mel hums in satisfaction as you come down, running slick fingers over tongue — tasting you, lips suckling and rolling off her hand.

Bottoming: Mel lifts herself to the tip of the toy, grinding when she reaches the base. Each motion creating a jolt of pleasure that runs through her body. Stockings pull at her legs, garters tight around her thighs as skin spills slightly over the top.

“Stay still,” you pester, lifting up the camera to snap a picture of her hunched over — silicone dick buried deep inside.

She whines at the momentarily loss of friction, desperately waiting for you to allow her to continue her thrusts. You check the film, eyes taking in your artistry. You nod at her, and she snaps her hips immediately.

“You look too pretty for this to be forgotten,” you smirk. Her skin flushing, heat coiling in her belly, at your compliments. Mel nods her head, her eyes rolling back as she increases her pace — pumping into the toy. She spills over the bed, creating a wet patch on silken sheets as she lifts herself up, a string of slick connecting her pussy to the bed. You snap another photo, the room flashing white.

Sevika - Size kink/deprivation

Topping: Sevika places a hand at the base of your back, admiring how large her palm looks when it’s splayed onto your skin. Pushing you down with ease, stilling your almost-rabid jerking by tensing her muscles. Her other, metallic, hand comes to rub across your slit — the cool material’s contact against your warm cunt inciting a shiver.

You gape into ragged sheets, back arching as Sevika brings a hand down to the fat of your ass, skin slapping echoing throughout the room. Running her faux-fingers down the dip of your ass, rubbing circles around the entrance of your pussy. Chuckling at the way you reflexively pull back at the cold probe, but are unable to under her grip.

Switching positions slightly, she manhandles you so that you’re being supported by her metal-arm. This way she can feel the warmth of your cunt engulf her fingers as she pushes into your entrance, thrusting with haste. You whine and twist against her, feeling the pleasure shoot up to your abdomen - tightening and curling in you. She chuckles, low and grating, at the wetness that gushes out of you — stilling her fingers and planting a chaste kiss to your lower back.

Bottoming The blindfold tied around your face sits comfortably, obscuring your vision. You can only hear the sound of Sevika’s heaving breathing, and the taste of her, as you sit between her splayed knees. You dig your tongue in deeper, flattening your tongue at her clit. Grabbing onto muscled thigh for support, you continue working her open using your mouth.

You feel calloused hand pull at your hair, pushing you into the overwhelming wetness. She guides you closer, further up — aiding your unsure self in pleasing her, it’s not your fault really. She likes you rendered helpless, dependent on her and deprived of your sight.

“Thats a good girl,” she groans as you allowing yourself to be pulled by her grip. It’s not long before she’s coming undone before you, harshly pulling at your scalp to snap your head back — mouth open as you feel her saliva drip into your cheeks, and down your throat.

[mystra-midnight]

The Devil and I

summary: logan might have looked like an ordinary man, but the weight of his metal-laced bones pressing against your back was intoxicating—deliciously so. and he knew this with the same certainty with which he knew the earth revolved around the sun.

warnings: 18+ only. dom!logan. rough sex. messy sex. spanking. tiny hint of anal play.

words: 1.8k.

notes: i am not even sorry. not one bit. this was inspired entirely by this post by @i-spit-on-your-garage and dedicated to her also. thank you for sharing your horny thoughts with me.

"That's it, baby, taking me so well."

Logan's voice was a gruff growl against your ear, crawling up his throat and over your skin like whiskey, full-bodied. His breath, warm and tinged with a hint of smoke, sent shivers down your spine. His large hands kneaded the flesh of your hips as he dragged you against his pelvis again, the sound of skin hitting skin loud, leaving your arse stinging from the impact.

You'd never given much thought to his body until now. What had started as harmless flirting—a dirty fantasy about fucking the mutant called Wolverine—had taken a turn. It wasn't that he wasn't attractive; in fact, Logan was the epitome of a woman's wildest dreams. He was tall and impossibly strong, his muscles rippling under your fingertips. But what surprised you most was his weight, the heaviness that came from the adamantium skeleton beneath his warm flesh.

Logan might have looked like an ordinary man, but the weight of his metal-laced bones pressing against your back was intoxicating—deliciously so. And he knew this with the same certainty with which he knew the Earth revolved around the Sun. 

That's why he kept you in this position: on your knees, face pressed into the mattress, hips raised, your slick folds stretched around his girth. Logan relished seeing his women like this—whiny and cock-drunk, the perfect plaything for his pleasure. Your voice was muffled, fingers digging into the sheets so tightly they hurt. You could barely make a sound as he thrust into you, each powerful stroke forcing gasps from your lungs. He didn't mind.

Your entire body trembled when his hand moved up your sweaty back, each fingertip tracing the delicate curve of your spine with deliberate tenderness. The sensation was electric, a shiver-inducing journey that left your skin prickling with goosebumps. He paused at each vertebra, applying just enough pressure to make you arch before continuing his path upward. When his fingers finally reached the nape of your neck, they didn't simply rest there—they curled possessively, his grip firm and unyielding, as if he was claiming ownership of your very being.

He pinned you against the mattress with effortless dominance, his weight pressing you down, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your ear, a tantalising promise of what was to come. His presence was overwhelming, a dark force looming over you like a stalking shadow, enveloping you in his warmth.

Somehow, you managed to suck in a shaky breath, a soft whine escaping your lips as he turned your face towards his, and then his lips crashed into yours with a fierce hunger. The kiss was made entirely of tongue, teeth, and saliva. His tongue invaded your mouth, exploring every corner with a desperation that matched your own. His teeth grazed and nipped, a blend of pleasure and pain that sent jolts of heat straight to your core. Saliva mixed and smeared, creating a mess neither of you cared to clean.

As he slowed the piston of his hips, switching to a slow deep grind that had the crown of his cock abusing that sweet spot inside your pussy, your eyes rolled so far into your skull that, for a fleeting moment, you thought you saw your own brain. It was like he was carving his way into your guts and hitting the back of your throat. "Lo-gan!" You gasped as a sob welled in your chest, your tears finally falling, leaving streaks of mascara and eyeliner down your cheeks. "M-more, faster, please," you begged.

He tutted mockingly behind you, each sound dripping with condescension and the unmistakable arrogance of pure male dominance. Before you could react, his open palm came down hard on your arse, the sudden, stinging impact tearing a surprised shriek from your lips. The sharp zing of pain cut through your already-burning skin, sending a fresh wave of moisture surging through your core. The sensation caused your inner muscles to tighten around the length of his shaft, gripping him firmly as he bottomed out inside you, his cock buried to the hilt.

He stilled for a moment, savouring the feeling of being completely enveloped by your slick heat. Without warning, he spanked you again, the loud crack of his hand against your flesh echoing through the room. You hissed at the sharp sting, your pussy clenching around him. He growled in response, the sensation of your tight walls driving him wild.

"Greedy girl," he grunted against your ear. His hand came down again, delivering another hard spank that resonated through your body, the sting of it sending a jolt of pleasurable pain straight to your clit. His hand lingered there, palming the globe of your arse as he admired the perfect handprint he'd left, the outline of his fingers vivid against your flushed skin. He could feel the slickness coating your inner thighs, the evidence of your arousal mixing with the sweat on your skin, dripping from his balls as he thrust hard into you.

The air was thick with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the wet slap of skin against skin as he thrust into you, driving deep, setting a fast pace. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice a rough, guttural sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Keep squeezing me like that, and I'm gonna blow right fucking now."

Logan's gaze remained fixed on your arse, his cock twitching inside you at the thought of what it would be like to actually fuck you there. The idea consumed him, driving him to act on his desires. With a growl, he slipped his thumb into his mouth, wetting it thoroughly before bringing it down to your tight hole. He smeared his spit around your sensitive entrance, groaning deeply as your pussy tightened around him in response.

"Logan!" you cried out, his name slipping from your lips in a breathless plea.

His grin widened at the sound, his expression smug, and he tightened his grip on the nape of your neck, pulling you up onto your hands and knees. “You gonna let me fuck you back here next, bub?” he asked, already knowing what your answer would be.

You moaned wantonly, nodding as you pushed back against him, meeting his powerful thrusts halfway and impaling yourself on his thick cock. “Gods, please, I want it so bad,” you begged, sounding like a common whore.

“Atta girl.”

This was all he said, his voice so arrogant and condescending, before grabbing both your hips tightly, steadying you, his fingers leaving bruises on your skin. The force of his thrusts was maddening, driving you to claw at the sheets, your body teetering on the brink of orgasm embarrassingly quickly. Your walls clamped tightly around him, each movement sending you closer to the edge. It felt like a thunderstorm was tearing through your head, igniting every one of your nerves.

You could hear him grunting, feel the droplets of sweat dripping from his hair onto your back and how his fingers bruised harder into your hips, holding so tightly that your bones were sure to bend and break. But none of this registered in your mind the way it should have. You were lost in the moment, drowning in the overwhelming pleasure about to ruin you.

"Gonna cum—right there, right there—please, please, Logan. I need to cum. Fuck me—ah, harder, fuck, fuck—Logan!"

He was wild and feral—an animal.

Without warning, the air was punched out of your lungs as the orgasm struck you like a bolt of lightning, turning your blood into electricity and your limbs into live wires. You came hard, crying out a pretty symphony of his name as pleasure wracked your body. At the same time, he bottomed out, burying himself balls deep and filling you completely, shooting thick, ivory ropes of cum deep inside you, coating your walls.

Fisting a hand in your hair, he wound the silken strands around his fingers, using the grip to force your face back down against the mattress. His hips ground against your arse, rocking gently back and forth, his movements sending waves of pleasure through your trembling body. And as he came with a guttural growl, his release surged into you, hot and overwhelming, flooding your still-fluttering walls.

The fullness was almost too much, his cum filling you completely until it had nowhere else to go. It began to seep out, slick and warm, trailing down the seam of your pussy where your tight grip on his cock created a barrier. Warmth spread through your body like fire racing through your veins, an intoxicating heat that intensified as he filled, fucked, and possessed you entirely.

His teeth sank into your shoulder in a savage bite as you panted his name in sweet nymphomania, wriggling beneath him, his weight comforting—like a heavy blanket. Logan's tongue followed, laving over your flushed flesh, soothing the sting left by his canines. He growled deeply, savouring the taste of you as his abdominal muscles flexed and his cock ached, twitching inside you with every pulse of your body.

When he finally began to pull out, you couldn't suppress the whine that escaped your lips, the sound filled with a sense of loss. The feeling of emptiness was stark, save for where the head of his cock remained nestled just inside your snug walls, a final intimate connection.

Logan sat back on his haunches, taking a moment to admire the view before him. Your arse was flushed the most beautiful shade of pink, marked by his handprints and the forceful impact of his hips. Thick ribbons of cum dripped from your swollen folds, which were slick with the evidence of your release. The mixture of your arousal and his seed connected you to his cock in a vivid tapestry of desire, each drop falling to the mattress below.

He watched as the thick fluid dripped from both of you, creating a small, glistening pool beneath your bodies. With a rough but affectionate touch, Logan patted your arse, the force making it jiggle and your hips twitch involuntarily. His satisfaction was evident in the low, gravelly tone of his voice. "That felt like a good one," he remarked, a hint of pride lacing his words as he continued to drink in the sight of you, thoroughly used and utterly beautiful.

He snapped his hips forward, rutting into you with surprising vigour, filling you again and relishing in the wet squelching that echoed through the room. Each thrust forced his cum to leak from your well-used pussy, the slick evidence of your coupling escaping with every movement. You gasped, the sensation almost too much to bear, your hips wriggling as though to escape the overwhelming pleasure that teetered on the edge of overstimulation. But Logan only laughed as he thoroughly enjoyed how your body remained so tightly wound, so damn sensitive and ready to take him.

His stamina, just like the weight of his skeleton, was a marvel. It shouldn't have been surprising, given his mutation. His body was in a constant state of peak performance, always regenerating and healing. Logan 'Wolverine' Howlett had never been a one-and-done type of man; he was relentless and insatiable.

"Hope you don't think we're done, bub," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly promise against your ear. "'Cause we've got all night."

[yeyinde]

extremely dubious consent. power/class imbalance. implied breeding. manipulation.

but regency era John Price paying off your chaperone to get you alone in a carriage for few hours and the whole time, your guardians think you're being properly supervised during this unorthodox courtship.

And sure, he's so much older than you, a widower with specks of grey along his temples and peppered in his beard, and more established in class and life compared to you, the poor thing that only just entered society and already got snatched up by the surly, gruff Duke. But it's John Price. Despite his temperament, he's such a respectable man, isn't he? They can trust him to protect you, of course.

And he does.

Your virtue, however? Not so much.

He does away with that little problem on the second outing he takes you on, smothering the protests that draw up, shaky and uncertain on your lips when the chaperone your guardians paid to watch over you walks away, swallowing it down with a searing kiss. Shushes you through it as he slips his thick fingers over the seam of you, arm buried beneath a dense layer of fabric, snuffing out those little gasps.

Don't worry about it, he rasps into the burning apple of your cheek. "s'how it's supposed to be, mm?" and when that doesn't quell the quiver in your brow, he adds:

"s'what I want, love. Jus' a little taste, mm?"

And the problem with gently reared girls is that they turn into such obliging women. Your eyes flicker downward—soft in your acquiescence even though your shoulders draw up cutely towards your ears. Pretty little thing. He couldn't possibly resist.

So he doesn't.

Taking such a lovely creature on the dirty floor of the carriage with your prim, proper skirts trussed up over your hips, shift in utter disarray from the scorching attention he lavished your breasts earlier is nothing short of euphoric. Aided by the adorable little whines you make when he finally notches his cock against your soft flesh. Worry flashing over your brow because he's just too big, too thick, for you to take, and maybe we shouldn't, Mr Price—

But you swallow him just as sweetly as he imagined you would when he pushes inside of you. Pussy fluttering around him in a panic at the blunt, thick intrusion, unused to such brutal treatment. And it's heaven, of course. Nirvana between the split of your pretty thighs. Pussy just made to take his cock. Loving it so tenderly like this

"Taking me so well, aren't you?"

Tears on your lashline. Nose scrunched up. He's sure it's a trial for you, but this is just a prelude. Ripping the bandaid off.

A necessary evil.

And if the altruistic facade falters under the blunt weight of his desire, his greed, then at least he has a failsafe to keep you in his pocket should your guardians decide he—in his age, his callousness—is not a good fit for their daughter. They are the doting type, after all. Romantics. Idealists.

It doesn't take him much at all to reach the apex of his pleasure, not when your hands press tight to chest as he bears his weight down, grinding his throbbing cock into the deepest part of you. Your moans, delicious little keens ringing so sweetly in his ears. Letting him ride you hard against the dirty floor, chasing his pleasure even as your knees dig into his sides, brows pinced but nodding along when he rasps in your ear about how good you feel and how it'll only get better, and next time—since you're bein' so bloody sweet f'im—he'll show you how to suck his cock between those damnably soft lips, keep his fingers buried inside of you while you fold yourself over the bench on your knees, mouth swallowing him down deep—

(If they can't come to reason and see why he's a good match, then the swell of your belly in a few months time will surely sway them—)

The thought breaks across his spine, molten heat puddling in his loins. Fuck—

Despite the viciousness of thrusts at the idea, you take his desire so goddamn well.

It sends him over the edge with a grunt. A belly deep groan. And just in time, too.

After he puts your clothes in order and slides you back into the seat, groaning when you squeeze your thighs tight together, keeping his cum from spilling out, your chaperone arrives with a nervous smile and a glint of guilt that's easily diminished with another slip of cash between palms. You stare, dazed and flushed, out the window, and barely even flinch when he lays his hand on your thigh, hold possessive. Proprietary.

"Time to go home, mm?"

And if he brings you back to your guardians flustered, limping, and a little dazed—well. The roads were just terrible, weren't they, sweetheart? Quite the rough ride, mm? He's sure next time will be better.

[iwriteyanderes2023]

Yandere Socialite (Fem! Yandere x Fem! Reader)

Divider credits: @/anitalenia

Trigger warning: Violence, drama between friends, profanity usage, yandere themes, name-calling, sexual harassment, power abuse. Choking, pet play, humiliation, drugging, sexual scenes, bondage play, female on female

(8941 words)

You regretted agreeing to this.

Your friends were raving about this massive party, where all the hottest celebrities and the wealthy go to flaunt or make a fool out of themselves. Obviously, it was an exclusive event, no mere commoners could simply walk in. To enter, it's either paying an extravagant fee or be (in)famous enough. Which, you were neither.

They claimed to know how to sneak in, undetected by the burly bouncers that you would rather not be the receiving end of their anger. It made sense to have some tight security, it is taking place in someone's mansion; someone's home, after all.

You, being new in this city and desperate to make connections to you could advance your career, said yes. You stupidly said yes, put on your best clubbing outfit and makeup, and went through with your friend's plan to slip in through one of the back doors while the other distracted whoever was around to hinder the plans.

Which leads you to be lost in a seemingly unending maze of hallways, you don't know where the other girls went and you don't know where you are. There wasn't a single soul wandering around the carpeted floor and chandeliered ceilings. Elegant paintings of men and women in dignified poses seem to peer at you in disgust; a filthy commoner dressed like a tramp. You didn't belong here, and it's only a matter of time before you were thrown into jail thanks to the recorded footage from the surveillance cameras you're sure were pointed at you.

You covered your arms with your hands as you moved onward, cussing under your breath about how silly it was to wear a ridiculously tall heel. It's already giving you blisters, so you decide to take them off and walk barefoot; silently and dryly sobbing about how humiliating this feels.

You continued trundling on, periodically looking back and trying to see where the life of the party is at so you could at least witness how it's like. Perhaps make a few connections, but you think that's unlikely. Most of them are probably drunk out of their mind or high off coke to care.

Actually, what are you even doing here? You're supposed to be networking at a classy, evening soiree, not a rich boy's messy party!

Before you could sigh again, you were interrupted by the sounds of yelling in a room nearby.

"Get off me, fucker!" You heard an enraged feminine voice shout out before the sounds of crashing reached your ears. Groaning could be heard as you assume the other party was shuffling to get up.

"You fucking bitch!" Retorted a masculine voice, followed by more stumbling. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"We're over. Get the fuck out of my sight!" She yelled, but it doesn't sound like she was too hurt over it. It's more anger if anything.

"What...? Just like that?! After everything that I've done-"

"All you did was embarrass me over and over again! Like, does it kill you to take a shower? Does it kill you not to be an entitled, gross loser all the time?"

You inched closer to the door and discreetly poked your head in. You saw the back of a woman with the most gorgeous blond hair draping down to her tailbone. She's wearing a silver sequin dress that barely covers the fold of her bum.

The male, slightly drunk and injured from the shove with debris around him, was glaring at the blonde.

"Shut up, slut! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't get to live like this!" He threateningly pointed at her, but she didn't budge.

"Oh? You mean that monthly allowance of fifty bucks from you? Please, I pick up my dogs' crap with it. That's how worthless you are to me, I'm only tolerating you because I'm doing your mommy a favour." She fought back, her words enraged the man even further.

"You can forget the deal our families had! I'll make sure the Maciovelli name goes to shit, you will be living on the streets before you know it!" He yelled right in front of her face, getting up close and personal; and having his stray spit hit her. She merely wiped them away.

"Ugh, you're insufferable. Whatever, I'd like to see you try, bitch." She hissed before shoving him away again.

But this proved to be a dangerous move, as it provoked the man to lunge and swing his arm at her. Luckily though, it seems she has predicted it and dodged his attack on time.

You had to do something! And so, you looked around as the pair went on to physically fight. Though, it's more like she's doing all the defense while he does the offense. Sometimes blocking his hits with her red handbag.

There is a vase nearby, decorated with intricate, hand-painted flowers. Without thinking, you picked it up and chucked it at the man. The antiquity of that piece of art be damned, that woman is in danger and you have to do something to help her!

She visibly jolted when it flew past some strands of gold and crashed onto her assailant's head, spraying shards everywhere and making small cuts on her legs. He was thrown backward and rendered unconscious almost immediately.

The woman whipped her head back to see the source of it, staring at you with wide, baby-blue eyes. You stared back at her breathtakingly stunning face; she had thin, sharp brown eyebrows that accentuated her fox-like eyes. Long, black eyelashes framed her iris as smokey makeup made her eyes look much bigger and lively. Her lips were glossy and in a shade of pastel pink, with a dusting of sparkly glitter.

You stammered, not knowing what to do or say. You're not even supposed to be here. So you remained silent as you and her continued this staring contest, the woman's eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe.

She began walking towards you, her heels menacingly clicking against the marbled floor of that room. You felt a surge of panic course through you, so you took a few steps back.

Only to be grabbed by the shoulder by someone else behind you. Chills ran down your spine when you heard the familiar sound of a walkie-talkie beeping. "I found one of the trespassers."

You started panicking even more, speaking erratically to try and defend your case. But the security officer wouldn't hear it, instead restraining you and pulling you away from the scene. You thrashed and screamed, not wanting to get caught and end your life as soon as it started. "I need backup!" Shouted the guard into his device as he tried to wrangle you into his grip.

You shouldn't have agreed to them, look what it has gotten you into. Your life is so over, you're going to be shoved into a jail cell and forced to move back to where you came from. If only you could-

"Hey, you fatass!" You saw her red, crescent handbag whack the officer in the arm, he flinched in surprise. "Hands off my best friend! And who the fuck do you think you are, calling her a trespasser!?"

A look of surprise crosses his face. "Miss Maciovelli? She's with you?" The officer took a look at you, there wasn't an aura of money emanating from you, not like how the woman was.

You looked back at the woman, now putting her hands on her hips. An irate expression adorns her face, "Um, yeah? I just said it, are you fucking slow? Let her go right now!" She demanded, raising the volume of her voice as her patience was running thin.

He sighed and released his hold on you. The man brought his walkie-talkie up to his mouth and said that it was a false alarm and that there wasn't a need for more of them to come over. They should focus on finding the rest of the intruders, which you can guess that they were referring to your friends.

"I'm sorry, Miss Maciovelli-"

"Yeah, you better be." She spat as she hooked her arm around yours. "Insulting my girl like that- why don't you all actually do your jobs and kick the real troublemakers out? Like that pig there, taking a nap on the floor. He tried to hit me and my best friend!" The blonde pointed her ivory-white acrylic nail to her bleeding ex, who seemed to be slowly regaining consciousness.

His eyes widened as he seemed to recognize the waking man. "O-oh! That's-!"

Before he could finish his sentence, the woman dragged you away from the scene. Pushing you by the shoulders and pulling you by the hand. You looked behind you to see the security guard entering the room while frantically speaking into his walkie-talkie.

"You're new. What's your name?" You were snapped out of your frazzled trance when she spoke. Her pace was slowing into a leisurely walk when she deemed it safe enough. The blonde's arm was still linked around yours, though.

Her baby blues curiously stared at you, all that malice and rage she held earlier was gone. Replaced with friendliness with a bit of wariness.

You told her your name and stumbled over your words trying to explain your situation as fast as possible. You made sure to thank her for saving you.

"Your friends are gross for abandoning you like that." She scowled. "I hate fake bitches like them, they should like, get shot in the head or something."

Your mouth gape open at her extreme remarks. Is this how socialites usually talk?

You defended your friends, telling her that they didn't abandon you. They probably just lost you as everyone scrambled to hide from security.

"Yeah, you're definitely new here. They knew what they were doing. You came with five others, at least one should be hiding from security with you." She brought you into a grandiose bathroom. The blonde finally lets you go and approaches the vanity. "Those sluts used you."

Miss Maciovelli pulled a tube of lip gloss from her mini handbag and began doing touchups. You simply watched her, not knowing what to say. Well, you should have seen it coming. Big city dwellers are known to be cutthroat, and you just met them.

"Sorry babe, but that's the reality here." She smacked her lip and wiped away any imperfections with her thumb.

You scratched the back of your head. You asked her if she could show you the exit, it's been a long night and you want to go home.

"You don't wanna stay for a little?" She asked, turning to you. "You're hot, I'm sure you'll have fun. I'll get rid of those snakes for you, if that's what's holding you back."

You shook your head, feeling exhausted after everything you went through today. You asked her if she's going back to the party, wherever that may be in this mansion.

"Duh." She bobbed her head.

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Until she decided to fish her phone out.

"Number." She extended her hand and brought her phone, numpad side to you.

You picked it up and entered your phone number. It's saved under your name, but you doubt that she will remember you after today.

"Oh, so that's how you spell it." She mumbled, looking at the contact name.

You watch her keep her device away before fixing her hair in the mirror again. She used a nail to adjust her eyelashes.

"Okay, let's go." She linked her arm around yours again, escorting you out of the bathroom.

You and she walked past numerous rooms and halls, some had excited shouts coming from them, some had salacious moaning and some had loud booming music. When you were nearing the core of the alcohol-fueled rave, the noise from massive speakers was nearly unbearable. You even had to cover your ears in order not to blow your drums out. But the woman didn't even flinch, she continued strutting along with you in tow.

You saw men and women feverishly dancing along to the beat, the surroundings were dark and illuminated by colorful strobe lights. Good thing you weren't epileptic.

"Heyy..."

You turned your head to see one of your friends. She's wasted beyond belief. "You... you made it! C'mere, I want you to meet-"

"Fuck off, whore!" Barked Miss Maciovelli, she yanked you along with her. Ignoring the expletives coming out from your friend's slurring mouth.

You asked if that was really necessary.

"Yep. They won't get the hint if you're this nice." She answered. "They'll keep trying until you're dragged down to their level. Don't ever disrespect yourself like that." She sternly warned you.

All you could do was nod meekly.

Eventually, you reached the exit. It's as grand and fancy as it was on the inside. You see a massive water fountain in the middle of a looped road. Yet, no cars could be seen but there were hoards of security milling around.

"Wait here." She left you on the marble steps as she approached a uniformed staff member. You watched them exchange some words before she marched back to you.

You thought that this was the end of your meeting with her. So you told her thanks and bid her goodbye while referring to her as Miss Maciovelli. She scrunched her nose up in disgust.

"Ew. That's so fake. Don't call me that." She crosses her arms over her chest, and you can see pale tan lines on her skin.

You asked what you should call her instead.

"Mercedes." She replied immediately. "You know, the car."

You told her that it's a beautiful name. She smiled and flipped her hair.

You told her that you better get going, it's late. Mercedes narrowed her eyes at you and grabbed your wrist.

"And how are you going to do that? It's an hour's drive from here to the city."

You said you were going to take the bus, that's how you got here in the first place. Worst come to worst, you would call a cab.

She shook her head defiantly.

"I'm driving you home, no way am I trusting those weirdos to bring you anywhere."

You told her that you would be fine and that you didn't want to be a hassle. To that, she rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, shut up." Mercedes punched your arm playfully.

A hot pink convertible then rolled up in front of the two of you. Its headlights are heart-shaped, you thought it was cute. "Miss Maciovelli?" Said the parking Valet.

"C'mon, don't be difficult." She urged you to get in through the passenger's side.

"This is your place?" She asked with a tone of incredulity. "Looks... plain."

You wouldn't call it plain. It's small but cozy. It's also all you can afford at the moment with your job, that's why you were planning to network around to get better opportunities.

"Hm." She hummed, releasing her grip on her pink, fluffy steering wheel to fix her hair.

You got out of her car and said goodbye. She didn't say a word but watched you get to the front door.

You look behind you to see her staring, so you wave bye. But she neither budged nor returned the gesture. Simply staring at you like a hawk. Feeling a bit creeped out, you went into the lobby.

Only then did she drive away. What a strange woman.

You sighed and trudged to the lift, pressing the button and resting your forehead on the cold, metallic panel. Well. There goes your only contacts in the city, they're all not good for you.

You didn't even get to know Mercedes's number, so until she texts you first, you're completely alone.

The lift opened to reveal no one. As usual. You don't think you've seen your neighbors yet, thinking they're either avoiding you, extremely busy, or extremely reclusive. Or living in an entirely different timezone.

When you reached your room, you decided to boot up your computer. While waiting for it to be functional, you did something else; preparing the things you need for a relaxing bath and boiling some water for tonight's five-star dinner: instant noodles.

You spent the night researching Mercedes, only searching her first name predictably bringing up results of the luxury car brand with the same name. But as soon as you searched for Mercedes Maciovelli, you began learning a lot about her.

She is the heiress of a very successful, multi-billion conglomerate company. Her family owns more businesses than you can count in two hands, they're also huge and famous companies. Banks, grocery stores, and even planes. It's scary how her family possesses this much power. That was such a silly thing for her ex to say, that if it wasn't for him, she would have been in poverty. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment.

However, she is no stranger to paparazzi as she frequently mingles with high-profile celebrities, gets into physical altercations, and goes wild in nightclubs. She is nothing like what was expected of her as someone who grew up in "old money". She's associated with words like "bitchy", "fiesty", "trashy" and "Messy". Whereas her peers barely have any information available about them online, they stay out of trouble and act too elegant for the paparazzi and tabloids to take any interest.

The most interesting bit about Mercedes was her dating life. Your eyes bulged out of your skull, seeing the seemingly unending list of boyfriends she had over the years. It's almost like she has a new one every month, but there are never repeats. Articles, gossip pieces, and smear forums about Mercedes are just so prevalent, that you think you're getting a cramp on your finger by just scrolling your mouse.

In the end, you're sick of seeing the public bash the blonde. It gets old and you're becoming tired. Perhaps aging has already caught up to you, but you cannot stay up past 12.

You decided to shut your computer off and head to bed.

It's been a few days since that party. Your "friends" kept texting you, trying to get you to join one more of their trespassing escapades. You gave them excuses upon excuses because you're not interested in such a lifestyle.

"Aw, don't be such a lame-o," Drawled one of the girls as she shook your shoulder. "Come on, it'll be fun! You had fun!"

The other girls continued egging you on in this expensive cafe. You were already uncomfortable meeting them here, as you can barely afford the cheapest of their pastries. At least the ambiance looks amazing in photos. If only you owned a digital camera...

You let out a nervous chuckle as you tried to decline as much as you could without offending them.

"There's another one tonight! You should totally come with us, I got like, the routes and everything already!"

"Yeah, think of the cute guys that's going to be there!"

"OMG, I heard Retro Rhymes are going to be there!"

"Really!? The rapper!?"

You sighed as they chatted amongst themselves. You silently picked at your muffin with your fork, that was the cheapest thing on the menu and the price was enough to give you eight of these back home.

Eventually, they must have forgotten your existence. Because they continued talking until they left the building. Not saying a bye or sparing a glance in your direction. Leaving you to sit at your table alone and brooding.

Well. You shouldn't expect much when it comes to friendships here. Many people come to the city solely to make money and have fun, after all. Not so much finding true, lifelong connections.

You took a sip of your black coffee. Again, the cheapest thing you could get from there. You couldn't even afford sugar or milk with it.

Suddenly, a manicured hand slammed a cup onto your table, shocking you and making you accidentally spill some of your drink onto your blouse.

"You should try this, it's so good. Way better than your boring-ass black coffee, I bet." You recovered from your initial shock to crane your head up to see Mercedes staring down at you from above, her soft, golden hair falling to your face.

You greeted her, asking what she was doing here.

"I could ask the same of you, seeing that you're pretty broke. But I saw how you still hung out with those sluts even after I told you not to." She cocked an eyebrow as an unimpressed look crossed her face.

Today, she wears a simple, lacey crop top and a pair of low waisted jeans. You got to know that she had her belly button pierced.

You sighed once more, burying your face in your hands. You told her you don't have a choice, it's a cold world out here and you need someone to fulfill that human need for socialization. Now that you have calmed down, you decided to take a better look at the drink she gave you.

It's a tall, plastic cup with a dome cover. It's an ice-blended, creamy mocha with chocolate syrup drizzled on the sides of the cup. It has a healthy dollop of whipped cream on top and a thick straw is sticking out of its opening.

"Um, hello? You have me." She moved away from you and took a seat next to you, she ordered the same thing. Mercedes shook it around before taking a sip. "You don't need them anymore, I'll be showing you the ropes."

You thought about it for a while. There is definitely a non zero chance that she will play you like a fiddle, but it's much better to have someone high up there in the hierarchy. Even though she isn't necessarily a mature businesswoman yet, you would still have a better chance to brush shoulders with relevant people. Not... Partygoers.

So then, you agreed. Picking up your cup and taking your first sip.

It was tooth-rotting. It was good, but you knew if it wasn't for sugar, this cup would not even be filled to half. The sheer sweetness of the treat made you grimace and pucker.

"What? Don't like it?" She asked, looking bored.

You said it was nice, but a bit too sweet.

"That's the point. I like it sweet." She took another sip from her drink. "Keeps me full for hours."

You... Don't think that's how it works. Isn't it usually the opposite effect? Whatever.

For the next few hours, you and her chat about almost everything and anything. Ranging from each other's histories, to each other's interests, to oddly philosophical questions and personal views on things. There were quite a few differences between you and Mercedes- obviously so, as she was raised by the uber rich and you were raised by... Your guardians, but you liked how she kept her mind open and was non-judgemental about you.

It was refreshing, really. Someone you could somewhat be real with, unlike your previous set of friends where you had to put on the most guarded mask in order not to feel like a pathetic lowlife around them.

You were curious about her dating habits, but you think it's rude to ask about it this early on in the friendship. Plus, it never came up, so you decided to save that question for another day. You bet if she's willing to open up, it will take more than just a few hours.

It's getting late, you should leave.

So you stood up, secretly in disbelief at how you finished the entire thing of diabetes. You told Mercedes that you have work tomorrow and you're going to need to leave soon.

She frowned. "Boo. Boring."

You said that you have to be "boring", you don't have her type of money.

"And it's literally just six in the evening. It's not like it's six in the morning or something." She huffed.

You said you have been in this cafe for seven hours.

"They don't close til 10."

Still, you have to get back home. You're tired.

She stuck her tongue out at you.

"Fine. But I'm driving you home."

You said there isn't a need for her to do that, you could take the bus.

"Let's go, you need your beauty sleep." She ignored you and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you along with her so quickly that you struggled to keep up.

Weeks would go by and you would meet Mercedes every Sunday in a different cafe of her choosing. And these meetings would increase in frequency each week, to a point where you were eating all three meals with her daily. She would always foot the bill and refused to let you pay for anything, talking about how you're so poor, that you're probably fighting rats for the scraps at the bottom of the dumpster. It's an absolute win for you; no cooking involved and you haven't eaten instant noodles for months now.

The five girls you originally started off with seem to lose interest in you, they never texted or called you again. And when you did bump into any of them, they would pretend not to know you.

It's extremely obvious that they're avoiding you for some reason, maybe it's because they've seen you buddying up with Mercedes: one of their sworn enemies and one of the most feared figures in this city.

It's... Surprisingly sad. Knowing that the friendship was doomed from the beginning didn't change the feeling of isolation and hurt in you. But at least you gained something that resembled a friend.

Mercedes would gradually increase the frequency of her texts and calls, hitting you up whenever she's bored out of her mind.

"Stop working letz go shopping"

"U r SO going blind in ur 30s"

"nerd :-P"

"im boreddddddddddddd"

"go clubbing with moiiii"

"letzzz goooo"

"stop ignoring me :-("

These were just some of the few text messages you would frequently receive, blowing up your phone even when you're in a meeting. You would usually need to turn it off entirely to keep yourself quiet.

But yes, you would go shopping with her. Mercedes seem to have a kick out of spoiling you with clothes, jewelry and other things you can only dream to buy.

You didn't like trying on clothes, because Mercedes would barge into your changing room however and whenever she liked.

"What's the big deal? We're both girls." That was what Mercedes would say when she slips into the cubicle, while you're mid-change without any warning. Of course, you would react negatively to that, especially since you don't know her that well.

In the end, though, you would just give up and let her come in. It's not like you could stop her and she isn't doing anything too weird... Aside from her vaguely longing stares at your partially or completely unclothed body. She would almost be in a trance, staring unblinkingly for long periods of time until you snap your fingers in front of her face. She just claims that you're just too hot for anyone to handle.

Mercedes would contact you via your phone, asking if you would want to go clubbing with her, or if you would want to be her plus one to an event. And each time, you would say no. And each time, she would whine about how lame you are but never pushed too far.

A temporary boyfriend would take your place, only for her to break up with them the next day and appear in another tabloid for some scandalous fighting or dating. When you asked her about it, she would get moody and irritable. She would rant about her feelings and problems with the world at large, finding the dating pool now repulsive and general standards insanely low.

"Ugh! Can you believe that he said that to me?"

You would have to nod, it would end her ranting faster. It's always the same phrase over and over again, with slight variation.

"I wish men were just like you, I would find it so fucking easy to commit to a guy. But they're not, so I rather shit my hands and clap. Oh my god, he was so pathetic and gross."

You could recite her words at this point, you got it the first time that she wishes she could date a male version of you. Mercedes didn't have to repeat that every single time you and her met up.

For her sake and yours, you pray hard that she finds what she's looking for. You don't know how much more of her repetitive complaints you can take.

All your other attempts to network and make connections fail. As soon as any of them knew you were Mercedes's "bestie", they would either run for the hills or become actively hostile toward you. She has made a lot of enemies and you don't think she has any girlfriends... Only orbiters or those who tried to get her approval but secretly hated her guts. Or die-hard fans who don't see her as a human, but as an object, whether for better or for worse.

She kept them around, just because she could benefit from them. Mercedes would bring them along to some of your many shopping sprees with her just so they could carry heaps of heavy bags for the two of you. While you and her get to enjoy the day, completely unburdened.

It unsettled you how she treated them like lowly servants, or even more degradingly so, like dogs. And not like one of her spoiled Pomeranians, but mutts that are bred to work and live off scraps of attention. You could be having a spa day at the city's finest specialist, sipping on complimentary champagne, and having your hair done with products that you cannot even pronounce; Mercedes would make her lackeys wait outside. Yet, they appear happy about this treatment from her. Eagerly following Mercedes and by extension, you, wherever you go.

It didn't matter who you tried to befriend, Mercedes's opinion of them would remain constant: They're all two-faced liars who are out there to kick you when you're down. It never changed despite never even meeting them or you made them up. She's fiercely protective of you, and always assumed the worst of everyone, even her own relatives when they tried being cordial with you.

Of course, the friendship has blossomed to the point where you would have a slumber party at her multi-million mansion every Friday. You wouldn't even need to bring anything, she would have everything ready for you; clothes, toiletries, hairdryers- anything you need to survive from day to day, you would have a more luxurious version of it. She definitely has an affinity for bling, as the tops that Mercedes provides always have rhinestones decorating them.

You were living in opulence, a lifestyle that can only be seen on TV, in magazines, or in history books. It's jarring and almost dreamlike how you got to experience such things just by chance. You didn't have to work hard for it, you just need to endure a spoiled blonde's clinginess to receive all these. What a steal. You had maids and butlers that would await your every order, personal chefs to whip up something delicious in a second, and hunky pool boys to ogle at when you tan with her outside.

You just wished that Mercedes wasn't so touchy, though...

"Like, sunburn isn't cute. C'mon, don't be such a hardass, turnover." You would groan and do as you were told, laying flat on your stomach and adjusting your sunglasses. Mercedes would then squeeze a handful of white sunscreen on her palm, and begin rubbing onto your exposed back and legs.

She would always take her time running her hands over your skin, sensually massaging from the base of your neck and down to your bum. Her flesh would glide against yours, reaching all that she could touch and occasionally squeezing your cheeks down south. Whenever you complained, she would say:

"What? Not my fault you have a bubble butt. No one can resist giving a squeeze." And continues fondling you under the guise of preserving your youthful skin from the harsh sun rays. You would sigh, slumping your head down as Mercedes continued doing whatever she wanted. It's her house, her money, and her influence after all. You're just riding on it for free. And it's not like anything is going to be too weird, you and her are both girls!

"Okay, I'm done. My turn." She would hand you the bottle of sunscreen and flip herself over. It's undeniable that she has a body that even Aphrodite would be envious of, thanks to a combination of genetics, her lifestyle, and other procedures. Mercedes does put in work in her personal gym, toning her body and alluring men everywhere. Her bikini would leave very little to the imagination, but it made sense why she needed much more sunscreen.

"Make sure to get it on here too." She would purr, playfully wiggling her plump rear. This would usually prompt an eye roll from you and a giggle from her.

She's soft to the touch. And you knew that not because you would have to smear sunscreen on her, but because she would often cuddle with you. It didn't matter what you were doing, you could be stretching in her living room, and she would wrap her arms around your waist. You could be curled up on her fluffy sofa, watching a sitcom, and she would crawl up all over your space. You could be sleeping, and you would wake up to her being the big spoon. And she would have the audacity to whine about how you ruined her sleep by moving around.

But you must admit, she is comfortable to cuddle with. Especially when you rest your head on her voluptuous breasts, allowing yourself to sink into them and inhale her sweet, floral perfume. It would be heaven squared when she would rake her long, acrylic nails through your hair. Mercedes would let you twirl with her golden strands, playing with them between your fingers.

You think, maybe it's because she's just lonely and a big fan of physical touch. It must be exhausting to constantly think every single person in the world is out there to get you. But does she have to be so... gross?

"I just want it." Mercedes would whine, demanding that she wants your drink. You would ask her why, you also drank out of this straw anyway.

"I didn't like my order."

You pointed out that you ordered the same exact thing as her.

"They didn't make it right!"

You asked her what made her think they made yours right.

"They just do!"

You said it's just going to be the same thing. Why not throw hers away and order another one, seeing that she has near infinite amount of money?

She would groan in frustration and stomp her heels on the ground. "It tastes better after you drank from it, okay!? I don't know what it is about your... fucking saliva that makes something so mediocre, tastes so good. Now, gimme!" Mercedes would snatch it out of your hands and swapped it with her one.

You drank more than half of yours while Mercedes barely touched her cup. Well, more for you, you guess. At least everyone is happy.

This habit of hers would extend to utensils, you knew she would purposely drop her dessert spoon just to eat from yours. Mercedes would steal your clothes, claiming that your outfits are always cuter than hers, and she's jealous.

But she chose and bought you these clothes...?

You were so used to her antics, that one day, Mercedes gave you a new brand of gum to try. However, when it touches your tongue, you immediately grimaced as it was the most atrocious flavour ever.

"Whaatt? Are you fucking serious? That's like, my favourite flavour!" She would look at you in disbelief. And you would look at her in disbelief, because this was the first time seeing her buying this brand.

You told her that you wanted to spit it out, it's awful.

"Don't waste it!" She hit you on the arm. "Spit it in my mouth." Mercedes would part her lips wide and bring her face close to yours.

Without thinking, you expelled the partially chewed up candy into her orifice... which she gladly accepted and began chewing on it. Sucking whatever flavour that was left on, including your fluids.

"What are you talking about?" You could hear her obnoxious chews between words. "It tastes fine, you're so dramatic."

Upon realizing what you just did, you would shudder in disgust. Quickly walking away as if you're trying to run from the memory.

Soon after, Mercedes would permeate through every aspect of your life. It seems like she had a chat with her parents about offering you a job at one of their firms. A high standing one at that, too.

You obviously accepted it and resigned from your previous post. Now, THIS is what you're talking about. A prestigious job with unbelievable benefits and tasks that doesn't seem too hard for you to do. It's everything you wanted you achieve, ever since you arrived at the city.

Well, minus the fact that your bestie who got you this position would intrude your office every chance she gets and talk your ear off.

"Ughhh... this is so boring... Let's ditch this place and go somewhere fun." She would rest her head on your shoulder while shaking you by the arm.

You said you can't. You have work to do.

"Says who?"

You said your boss.

"Who's your boss?"

For the fifth time, you told her the name of your supervisor. But instead of complaining, she would storm out of your office. At first, you thought she would leave you alone, maybe she's tired of bugging you and got the hint that you're a responsible adult with adult jobs.

But, ten minutes later, she would be barrelling in with your boss in tow. She had him in a very unsavoury grip, her hands tightly clutching his sleeve.

"Tell her!" She demanded.

"Y-you're free to go. Someone else can cover for you."

Your eyes would widen, asking if this will affect your pay.

"Not at all. Don't worry, I will have this... agreement in writing. Please e-enjoy the rest of your day." He would then quickly excuse himself from the room, avoiding Mercedes's fiery glare.

You looked at her. How could she just do that?

"My Dad owns this company, duh. Anyways, less talk, more walk." She hooked her arm around yours and dragged you out of the office.

It's as if her father was paying you just to babysit his bratty, adult daughter. You barely get to do anything for the company! You don't even know what you were hired to do in the first place anymore.

It gets extremely suffocating being her best friend, you don't know anyone around except her. The staff in her mansion is always rotating, so you wouldn't see the same face twice. You barely remembered your supervisor's names, let alone any colleagues'. All your free time is robbed by Mercedes, she saturates every single second of your life. You don't remember not seeing Mercedes's pretty face on the daily, yet it's astonishing how she would get the paparazzi on her for constantly dating a new roster of boys each season and getting into catfights with other women. Where does she find the time to do that?

It's rubbing on you, now you begin to crave a boyfriend. A 'boy toy', as Mercedes would call it.

It shouldn't be too hard, you know that you're good-looking; you have the clothes, the hair, the makeup and you can always steal from your filthy rich best friend. Your bank account is a little chubbier now thanks to Mercedes. If you just put yourself out there, you're sure boys will flock to you.

But you shouldn't tell this to Mercedes, you get the vibe that she would be jealous that you're stealing the spotlight. You aren't trying to do at all, you're just curious to know what it's like to live like Mercedes for once.

So you had to do it secretly. You would always decline her requests to join her clubbing, preferring to favor sleep over drug-fuelled parties. But recently, you would cover up your eyebags with concealer just so you could introduce yourself to the market. It goes without saying, that you're not tagging along with Mercedes, you went on your own and told not a single soul.

And it was a success! You have never received so many free drinks from men before, you even witnessed some of them fighting over you, all physical and mock-macho. It was hilarious and flattering, but the other girls would avoid you like the plague and shoot you nasty looks your way. It's much worse than you expected it to feel, you feel... rejected, alienated, and ugly. Was this how Mercedes felt? Is that why she thinks all other women are out for her blood? Well, you understand it now. And some of the boys would be really creepy towards you, it doesn't feel so good on the soul knowing the people who defended you from those weirdos are also creeps themselves. They just wanted a piece of you as if you were just a slab of meat in a cage of hungry wolves.

Though, it would be a big, fat lie to say you didn't feel free. You felt the freedom that died on the day Mercedes took you under her wing. It tasted so sweet, you wanted more and more. You were so addicted, that you took illicit substances just to keep you awake for longer, to party until the sun rises.

You were leading a double life: As Mercedes's goody-two-shoes bestie in the day, a bad girl gone wild at night. Make out with whoever you want to, drinking as much as you want and shaking yourself to the beat of the music until you drop.

You knew Mercedes was suspecting something was up, but at this point, you give no shits. This is your life, and you get to live it.

It didn't last long, though.

There was one night in particular; you remembered that they had a massive disco ball in the middle of the ceiling, reflecting every ray coming out of the projector. It was deafening, the smell of booze and sweat nauseated you but you didn't notice. The DJ was bopping his head to the rhythm and scratching records using his fingertips. The patrons were doing their own thing, some were dancing like no tomorrow, some were locking lips and some were snorting lines. It was one of those types of parties, the one where you first met Mercedes. Except this time, you successfully snuck in without your ex-friends and finally found the core of the rave.

Your hair was frazzled and you had a few wardrobe malfunctions, but why should you be bothered by that? It's not like everyone around you were dignified at all, you blend in and that's all that matters to you.

The details were fuzzy, but you remembered wondering what it was like to make out with a woman instead. Men had pretty rough lips and they smelled like crap. Why not experiment? You're here anyways, and no one is going to recognize you- whatever happens in this mansion, stays in this mansion. Plus, you already have a willing participant next to you, who has been hitting on you all night.

Later in the dark, you became bold from a mix of alcohol and whatever glowing pill you took from a giddy stranger. You pulled her aside to somewhere secluded, the two of you were clearly hot and bothered, deeply eager to explore each other's bodies. Nothing else matters in this moment, other than to satisfy each other's needs.

She pulled you in by the neck, pressing her full lips against yours. And you were correct, it was soft, fragrant, and delicious. A thousand times better than kissing stinky boys. You closed your eyes and melted into her touch, sinking deeper and deeper into the kiss. She's on top of you, straddling your hips and your hands are rubbing all over her body. The woman, who you didn't even know the name of, trailed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbones. Her slender fingers began to stray from your chin and roam downwards until it was dangerously close to the hem of your panties. You let out a muffled moan as she let her tongue taste every corner of your mouth, neither of you could speak. And neither of you wanted to, words weren't necessary.

However, your ecstasy was cut short when your lover was yanked backward. Confused, your eyes immediately shot open at the first taste of emptiness... only to witness something scaringly horrific.

"Fucking slut! How fucking dare you, how fucking dare you touch my girl!" Shrieked Mercedes as she had an iron grip on your lover's hair with one hand, and another was whaling on her non-stop. She was screaming in terror as your best friend inflicted as much damage as she could on her face. Scratches, punches, cuts, she had done it all. Mercedes pulled clumps of hair out from her victim's scalp and dodged every attempt of her to fight back. She was fast, fueled with the purest distillation of rage you have ever seen, mascara streaked down her face as she shouted until her voice was hoarse. Blood splattered onto her light-hued hair, her outfit was ruined and no doubt, a thousand dollars worth of acrylic nails were ripped from her nailbed as she threw brutal punches.

You panicked, trying to break the fight up but Mercedes was entirely immersed in anger that she didn't care that she lost her natural nails along with her false ones. She's also bleeding, scarlet painted her fingertips, knuckles, and up to her wrist as she went on tormenting your lover with more hits and pummels. At this rate, Mercedes might just kill her!

You attempted to restrain her, but she was too strong, easily overpowering you just so she could beat your lover to death. There was so much hatred simmering in her heart for this one stranger, this one woman you're sure she's never met. Why!? Why her!? Why would Mercedes attack her unprovoked!?

The fight, which was one-sided ended a few minutes later when your lover stopped moving and was covered in gruesome welts. Her eyes were swollen shut and there was blood pooling around her from her nostrils, scalp, and lips.

"You."

Growled Mercedes. She was breathing heavily and all her strands were out of place. Tears were flowing down her bloodshot eyes as she trembled.

You were speechless, you quivered in fear as you looked on. In the end, all you could mewl out was a meek "Why?"

This caused her to wail, scream, and sob. She brought her injured fingers to her head and gripped her hair, letting out all her frustrations and agony before composing herself enough to form a coherent sentence.

"Fuck you, Whore! Fuck you!" She pointed at you, her shrill voice was making your ears hurt, but you're glad she wasn't biting them off instead.

You said you didn't understand what was going on, why was she so upset.

"You were into girls all along! I-I-" She sniffled, ungracefully wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Soiling her face with her own blood.

"I'm... in love with you..." Her voice quietened as it wavers, Mercedes choked on her own tears as she confessed. "Why didn't you tell me...?" She gasped erratically as she cried. Suddenly, there was a spike in her emotions. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?!"

You took a few more steps backward as she lost control over herself again, she had to kick your already unconscious lover with her heels to calm herself down.

"I wanted you! I..." She let out one last bloodcurdling scream before lunging at you.

You tried evading her, but she was just too experienced in this. Within seconds, her hands are tightly wrapped around your neck; Choking them until blood rushes up your head. You clawed and clawed on her hands, but nothing worked. She was determined to kill you.

She gnashed her teeth as she choked the life out of you, her salty tears rolled down her cheeks, taking some concealer along with it showing that she also had severe dark bags under her eyes.

You started seeing spots, and your thinking became redundant as your brain shuts down from the lack of oxygen. Is this it? Your death? Killed by a nepotism baby with her bare hands?

You took one last look at her face, it was filled with pain and anguish.

You regretted agreeing to come to the city.

She was yearning for you, ever since she bought you that first drink. If you knew the depth of her twisted, obsessive love she harbors for you, running for the hills would have been your immediate reaction.

Mercedes cried herself to sleep almost every night, suffering from a heartache that could never heal itself as long as she knew you were straight. She knew that you would never share her feelings, because she was taught that everyone sees lesbians as freaks of nature.

She tried distracting herself with parties, boys, booze, and coke. But nothing worked, all she ever thought about was you, you, you. She loves you and wanted nothing but to be your lovely wedded wife. Oh, how she longs for a life where it's just you and her. And no one else.

Mercedes couldn't let you go, no way in hell. That's why she would scare off anyone who got too close to you for her liking, that's why she sent out hit after hit to eliminate the competition. Because if she can't have you, no one can.

But now...

"Sit."

You frowned, refusing to budge from your spot.

Mercedes pouted, she cupped your cheeks and stared deep into your eyes.

"Bad puppies don't get treats, you don't want to be a bad puppy, do you, baby?" She cooed in a babyish tone but with heavy condescension.

You couldn't speak, because there was a ballgag between your lips. Yet, you stayed still in defiance.

She narrowed her eyes at your disobedience.

"That's how you're gonna be, huh." Mercedes lets go of your face and sticks her hand into the pocket of her bathrobe. You heard a click, and soon you felt insane vibrations between your legs, it's coming from the vibe taped to your clit!

You let out a muffled yelp as the stimulation made you buckle to your knees, and eventually, you were on the floor, helpless as your hands were tied up behind your back. Juices leaked from your slit and onto the cold, smooth floors.

"Good girl~" She praised in a sing-song voice. Mercedes happily clapped her hands together.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you were about to be overcome by pleasure, but... the device suddenly stopped moving. Leaving you incomplete and agitated.

You whined and whimpered, wanting your rightful climax but Mercedes only smiled at your pathetic, squirming state.

"Aww, what's that? Puppy wants to cum?" You feverishly nodded, face burning from the degradation.

"Well, only good puppies get their pussy eaten. Are you a good puppy?" She rested her hands on her knees.

You nodded and let out a muffled yell.

"Roll over."

You tried your best to do that, but the frigid floor is stimulating you further.

"Play dead."

You lay still for a few seconds, your sex is still throbbing in arousal.

"Good girl, good girl!" She praised, giggling at you.

You whimpered, having tears bead from the corners of your eyes. You need that release so badly, it's starting to hurt.

"Mmm... you're so fucking hot..." She whispered as she slowly got down to the floor, slipping her hands between your inner thighs to remove the toy. Her pupils are dilating at the sight of your naked, dripping crotch. "I can't wait to eat you out. You always taste so fucking delicious." Mercedes brushed your puffy lips with her fingers.

"Open your legs."

She didn't have to tell you twice, you granted her full access.

"Good girl..." She purred before dipping her head down to drag her wet, pink muscle over your pussy.

You writhe as she tongue fucks you, lapping up everything and not letting a drop of your sweet, sweet nectar go to waste.

You would spend almost every waking second being 'trained' by Mercedes. Her treats are sex and the overstimulation of your pussy until you faint. You never knew that she was such a nymphomaniac, or maybe she just is that for you. Mercedes just couldn't get enough of your essence, so you're subjected to such treatment.

Well, at least you don't have to work anymore. You get to eat five-star meals and sleep in a mansion, and you get to binge-watch all your favorite shows guilt-free. All you had to be was Mercedes's pet and have her eat you out whenever she wants.

Her beloved Pillow Princess; was embossed in gold, on the hot pink collar around your neck.

[hederasgarden]

Ab Initio

Summary: Terrified and alone, you find comfort in an unlikely place - Rome’s mightiest Gladiator. Pairing: Lucius Verus x F!Reader  Word Count: 2K Rating: Mature. Heavy angst with references to spousal death and SA. Author Note: This is a follow up to Post tenebras lux but in reality it is more of a prologue to that story. I intended to write an epilogue for the story, but I opened my google doc and this happened instead.  Thank you to @ryebecca and @aliensupastar for their beta help. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Everything about this place assaults your senses. The air is thick and stifling, heavy with the sour tang of blood, mixing with the acrid stench of the Gladiators' sweat and leather armor. It clings to your skin just like the weight of their eyes. You try to disappear into the folds of your dress, but there's no hiding from the way their stares strip you bare with every passing second. 

You stumble in the unfamiliar sandals, the soft leather soles slick against the cold stone beneath you as Viggo pulls you along. No one has explained your presence here or told you what is to happen. One moment, you were in the kitchen and the next you were dragged into a bath that smelled of lavender and honey, your skin scrubbed raw by the hands of women who wouldn’t meet your eyes. They oiled you, perfumed you, and dressed you in intricate and lavish clothes more befitting of a Roman bride than a slave.

Macrinus marches ahead of you, the edges of his expensive robes dragging through the dust of the ground. He hasn’t even spared you a second look, beyond the brief, cursory inspection when he first laid eyes on you where he declared that you would do.

"Hanno," Macrinus calls out, capturing the attention of one of the Gladiators in the training yard. 

The man he beckons is tall and commanding, his body a perfect balance of strength and leanness that's a testament to hard-won power rather than sheer bulk. His hair is a mass of curly brown locks that match his rugged beard, but it's his eyes — those deep, dark-set blue eyes — that are the most compelling thing about him. They miss nothing, taking in everything with a subtle, calculating sharpness. When he looks at you, it's not just a glance, it's an assessing, cataloging look.  

Macrinus grasps your shoulders and angles you towards him. “I cannot yet deliver you the general's head but I hope you'll accept a consolation prize."

The words barely leave Macrinus’s lips before Hanno’s response rings out, as cold and flat as stone. "I have no need of her."

“Come now," Macrinus presses, voice laced with a light, almost teasing amusement, but something darker lurks beneath that veneer of geniality. "She’s here, and she’s yours if you want her."

Hanno just stares back, and Macrinus sighs. 

"I have brought her all the way here," he continues, growing a little more insistent. "If not you, I’ll have to gift her to another. Or perhaps the men can share her.”

You thought you knew fear when your husband was killed as the general's army razed your city, but that’s a distant thing to what you feel now. Before you can stop it, a low, terrified sound slips from your lips. It breaks through the tightly held mask of composure you've tried to keep in place. Hanno’s attention snaps back to you in an instant. There’s something about how he looks at you that’s more measured than before, that makes your stomach churn. There's no compassion or kindness there, only a cold calculation. He looks at you like your discomfort is part of some game or unseen test.

You try to steady your breath, but the terror lingering in your chest is a living thing, crawling beneath your skin. It feels impossible to breathe. Macrinus watches the exchange with quiet satisfaction, but Hanno remains silent, his gaze never leaving you.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks. "Very well. I will take her."

Macrinus claps his hands in approval, a sharp sound that cuts through the tense silence. "I told you when we first met that a slave dreams not of freedom, but of his own slaves," he says with a chuckle. "You are not so different, Hanno of Numidia."

Your new master hums, but says nothing else. A push from behind sends you stumbling forward, closer to him. Your heart races and panic surges through you as you instinctively try to pull away, but Hanno is too quick. His grip tightens around your wrist, the roughness of his calloused skin pressing against yours, warm and solid, despite the coolness in the air of the yard.

"Is that all?" he asks. He doesn’t sound particularly interested, just... expectant.

“Yes, yes, go enjoy your hard won prize,” Macrinus encourages with a knowing grin. 

Hanno drops the wooden sword in his hand and shifts his grip to your waist. He spins you to face forward and marches you ahead of him. You’re too numb to resist, paralyzed by the overwhelming terror flooding your every nerve. It’s only when you catch sight of the iron gate of his cell that a flicker of resistance surges through your body. You dig your heels into the dirt and twist in his grasp. He doesn’t even flinch as you try to pull away; his body simply shifts with yours, pushing you forward.

“Please,” you beg. “Do not do this.”

“Stop,” he commands, but he doesn’t sound angry, just tired. 

A scream claws its way up your throat but before the sound can carry, Hanno’s hand is there, pressing over your mouth. As he forces you against the stone wall, his body pressing you into the unforgiving surface, the hand not covering your mouth swiftly moves to the back of your head. His fingers splay wide, cradling your skull before it can slam into the cold stone. The gentleness of the gesture is startling and at odds with the force of his body pinning you against the wall. For a brief moment, his touch feels oddly tender, careful even, like he’s worried about hurting you.

"Easy," Hanno murmurs. “I will not hurt you, but you must calm.” His grip tightens slightly, just enough to make sure you feel his presence, and then he asks, his voice more serious, "Can you do that? Nod if you understand.”

After a moment of stunned silence, you nod.

His shoulders drop and the hand that’s been pressed over your mouth loosens a little, though his fingers still linger. “Good,” he praises and you blink, tears escaping the corner of your eyes. “If I remove my hand will you scream?” He asks.

You shake your head and the weight from your lips disappears. You take in a shuddering breath.

“Who are you?” He questions. “A concubine?”

The word stings, like a slap. You almost choke on them, but you gather enough strength to shake your head. "No. I-I work in the kitchen.”

You can see the confusion flicker in his eyes, quickly followed by something else. His voice comes out sharp, incredulous even. "The kitchen?"

“I do not understand what is happening,” you say. The words tumble out before you can stop them. “No one has told me anything. I was dressed and brought here.” A great swell of emotion sweeps through you and a weak, tearful sound escapes from your throat.

Hanno’s expression shifts. He steps back slightly, his grip loosening just enough to give you some space, but still firm enough to remind you that you’re not free to move. For the first time since this encounter began, there’s a crack in his composure, a flicker of guilt; perhaps even a trace of pity. 

“You have nothing to fear from me,” he says, tilting his head to capture your attention. “I have no desire for you.”

No desire for you? The phrase is meant to comfort you, but all it does is add another layer of confusion to the mess of emotions churning inside. You can’t bring yourself to ask the question burning in your mind: Why, then? Why bring me here, if not for that?

“I will not hurt you,” he assures you again, before releasing your wrist. “But I cannot send you back. I cannot be sure Macrinus won’t punish you if I do.”

“Punish me?” You question. “I-I have done nothing wrong.” The sob that follows is involuntary, a sound so broken it seems to come from somewhere deep, primal. Like an unmoored boat caught in a violent storm, your emotions spin out of control, and everything you suppressed since you were brought to the arena tumbles out. 

"They took me from my husband," you whisper through the tears, your voice barely audible. "My home." Your shaking hands grasp at the delicate golden chains draped around your neck and you tug at them desperately. The metal bends under your fingers, straining, until with a sharp snap, the delicate link breaks. 

“Now they have reduced me to…to….this.”

You reach for the heavy jewels that hang from your ears next. They feel like anchors, pulling you deeper into a place that isn’t yours. With a final, desperate yank, you rip them free and they fall with a dull clink. Tears blur your vision, and you barely register Hanno’s movement as he steps closer. His presence is a sharp contrast to the turmoil inside you — steady, solid, unyielding. You expect him to dismiss your anguish and remind you of your place, but instead, he surprises you.

“I am sorry,” he says sincerely. “I am sorry they have taken so much from you, as they have from me. My wife.” He twists the thin golden ring on his pinky, a shudder passing through his body before he continues speaking. “My city. The only home I knew.”

His unexpected tenderness sweeps away the jagged edges of your panic, and you sink to your knees, exhausted. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, smearing the carefully applied kohl. Hanno shifts closer, and when you pull your hands from your face, you’re unsurprised to find him kneeling in front of you.

“We have both known too much loss at the hand of Rome,” he begins. “But I promise you, I will shield you from what I can.”

“Why?” The question slips out before you take it back. What did he want from you if not service? What kindness is there left in the world for a slave?

His gaze shifts, hardening, and you can almost feel the change in him before the words come. “I am tired of fighting. Of inflicting pain, all in the name of Rome."  He exhales and looks up at the sliver of sunlight that creeps through the bars of his window. “And perhaps because I could not save her,” he admits, his voice faltering. 

When his attention returns to you he lifts a hand as if he means to touch you. It hovers just a breath away from your cheek before he drops it. “But I can help you.” 

The vulnerability in his admission surprises you. You don’t know what to say nor how to react, but Hanno requires neither. He simply offers you his hand and pulls you to your feet when you accept. You let him guide you to sit on the cot, looking up at him tearfully.

“We should remain here for a while. The others will expect me to…” he trails off and you nod. 

He settles himself on the opposite end of the bed and rests his elbows heavily on his knees, hanging his head forward. In the dim light, you can see how the lines of exhaustion etched into his face are deeper than you noticed before. What you can see of his arms and chest are a constellation of scars and bruises. Some are old and faded while others are fresh and raw. Each is a testament to the violence and suffering he's carried with him.

You look at your own hands, roughened in their own way from work over the years but compared to him, your body feels unmarked by anything significant. It seems impossible that you bear no scars, no visible traces of the grief and pain that consume you. 

You don’t know if you can trust Hanno, but his promise feels like a bridge between the wreckage of your life and whatever might lie beyond this moment of darkness. You want to believe him. You want to hope. 

It’s all that’s left to you now.

Next part of the series - Post tenebras lux

♡

My inbox is open for your thoughts on this story, requests for drabbles with Lucius and further scenes with Lucius and the Fisherman's Wife.

[sareeen]

Unknown Touches for a Lady

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N never thought she would be married to the spymaster of the Night Court. However, they are undoubtedly married and nothing will save her from the night ahead of her.

Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, lovely azriel

Here –> Part 2 Masterlist

A/N: The idea that popped into my head today and I didn't get up until I wrote it. :)

English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistake.

Y/N felt the bed sink in beside her and someone, her husband, fold up the edge of the blanket and slip quietly under the duvet.

Y/N felt as if she would suffocate with fear.

Two hours ago, they had gone through the ceremony where she was forced to marry the spymaster of the Night Court in a luxurious setting.

For a purpose, her father said as he adjusted her veil.

It was nothing more than a means to make a deal for the benefit of the Court of Nightmares. More food, more power in exchange for soldiers and a girl.

In fact, her family had eagerly offered her to the High Lord as a prospective bride, and as she was educated and intelligent enough to be chosen over the other women in the Court of Nightmares.

For a long time Y/N did not know to whom she was to be married. She had been raised from a very young age to believe that she was destined to be a wife and mother, but she never thought that it would be him.

But now she was given a chance. A chance to leave that damn evil place and be away from her family.

Today, for the first time in her life, she could see the stars and feel the gentle touch of the breeze on her skin, bringing tears to her eyes. If she was lucky, perhaps her husband would never send her back there. If she obeyed him – though the very thought made her feel sick. All her existence had consisted of nothing but submitting to others. She would have liked to have ruled over herself, but it would always be a dream, now that she was married.

The shadowsinger moved beside her, causing every cell in Y/N to warn her to run.

Well, it's happening, she thought despondently to herself and closed her eyes.

She knew exactly what her duty was. What must happen.

For this marriage to be legitimate, Y/N must give in to her husband and willingly spread her legs.

“I know you don't want to,” he said softly behind her back before gently placing his hand on her hip. Y/N jumped at the sudden touch. “But we have a duty, Y/N.”

She shuddered as the spymaster spoke her name out of his mouth. His voice was soft, but still a warning tone mixed into the words. She had no doubt that he was not often contradicted and may the Great Mother have mercy on whoever tried.

Y/N licked her lips and let out a shaky sigh, then nodded. Trembling, she turned onto her back and it took her a few seconds to gather her courage and look at her husband.

Azriel watched her silently, his figure illuminated by the faint moonlight that filtered through the gaps in the drawn curtains. Y/N could see his broad shoulder, the swelling muscles in his arm, and even the dark outline of his tattoo in the dim light.

Y/N could feel the golden brown eyes watching her warily as they scrutinized her. She was surprised to find that the shadowsinger did not return her stare for a moment and kept his gaze on her face the whole time. Perhaps he was waiting for her to make a move.

Maybe he was waiting for her to initiate.

Y/N's mouth went dry at the thought that he might have wanted her to. However, she had been raised to do what others wanted, so with all her presence of mind she slowly touched her palm to Azriel's chest. She felt warm, silky skin and felt a steady heartbeat beneath her hand as she slid it a little further away. She heard the Illyrian take a deep breath and the scarred finger she had put the gold ring on a few hours ago gently stroked the cool back of her hand.

Y/N was so startled for a moment that she forgot to breathe. Never had she imagined that the dreaded shadowsinger could be so gentle as he was now.

Perhaps behind the scars and shadows there was not a monster, but a feeling being.

A tiny germ of hope began to blossom in Y/N and she continued to caress him a little more boldly. Her hand glided down Azriel's muscular arm and Y/N was startled to find herself enjoying it.

The way the steely muscles tighten under her touch, the heat radiating from his body as if beaming up at her, inviting her to slide closer and enjoy it.

Azriel, as if hearing her thoughts, took hold of her waist and gently pulled her towards him until their chests touched.

Y/N's nightgown was so thin that the spymaster could easily feel that her nipples were hard and straining against his chest.

Azriel groaned, barely audible, and something inside Y/N stirred at the sound.

Confused, she felt wetness between her legs and some primal longing that she had never experienced before took her. She almost longed for him to return her touch. To have him caress her heated skin. It was so unfamiliar to her, and yet it was as if her body knew how to press herself against him.

Unexpectedly, she felt the hardness against her belly that made her go rigid, but Azriel just squeezed the soft flesh of her hip and didn't let her move away.

“No,” he whispered and buried his face in her hair, his thumb tracing soothing circles around her waist. “Don't be frightened. This is what happens when –“

“I'm not so clueless that I don't know what it is,” Y/N said, blushing. She thanked the Gods for the darkness. “The women explained everything to me before the wedding anyway. That this is what it takes to conceive a marriage and it's the natural reaction of every man when he touches a woman in a loose fitting nightgown.”

Azriel remained silent, but eventually he involuntarily chuckled to himself. Y/N smiled vaguely, but the man's shaking chest and voice filled her with a certain joy. It reassured her.

“Not all men,” Azriel said, wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger and tugging it gently. “But you're certainly beautiful and you're wearing very little nightgown.”

“I didn't choose it” Y/N muttered grumpily as she lowered her head to look at the said piece. It was a little translucent and she felt a twinge of anxiety when she first saw that she would have to wear it tonight.

“I thought so,” he muttered. “If it's any comfort I think it looks good on you and I like it very much.”

She had heard rumors of the shadowsinger that he hardly spoke, but they were now lying here and he was obviously talkative.

Y/N finally understood that this was Azriel's way of distracting her and calming the emotions that were raging inside her.

Her fear of the unknown and to make her comfortable with the situation. No one had ever done anything like that for her, not even her mother.

She swallowed hard and, not giving herself time to drift away from the thought, leaned into him and pressed her lips to his. She didn't know how to do this, since tonight she was getting the first kiss of her life from Azriel at the altar in front of hundreds of guests. It was more like a little peck than a kiss.

She understood this when Azriel recovered from his momentary shock and kissed her back. This was different.

The spymaster's hand slid into her hair, his fingers tangled in her ringlets as he gently tilted her head into position and everything just got better.

The angle of the kiss changed, deepened much more and something like an excited tremor began in Y/N's belly. The scent of Azriel filled her senses, the cool night mist and cedar balming her soul, her nails involuntarily digging into Azriel's biceps and it was as if he lost all restraint at that small movement.

He rolled Y/N onto her back, then towered over her and kissed her fiercely. His tongue stroked along her lower lip as if asking for admission and she hesitantly opened it and Azriel's tongue immediately made its way to hers. Y/N let her husband guide her and she was almost giddy with pleasure.

She enjoyed the way Azriel's tongue glided over hers, the weight of him pressing her almost uncomfortably into the mattress and the hot hardness between her legs.

The shadowsinger's lips moved to her chin, and Y/N gasped for air as he moved lower and lower, finding a spot in the hollow between her shoulder and neck that made her hip snap away from the bed and involuntarily rub against Azriel.

Heat flooded her face, but she was unable to pull away from him and with long, sensual strokes she wanted more, which he acknowledged with soft moans.

Strong hands now gripped her thighs and Azriel moved lower, then bucked his hips and pushed against her. His pants and Y/N's underwear blocked them, but Azriel touched a space between her legs and moved as she imagined he would when he will be inside her.

She never thought it would be like this. This overwhelming feeling of his body moving over her, which he'd then elicited from her. Sighs erupted from deep within her body and Azriel kissed her as if to absorb the sounds she was making.

“That's it” Azriel gasped as Y/N arched and their hips met. “Just like that, my beauty.”

She groaned at the endearment and watched the wings spread wide on Azriel's back with a glazed look.

The membrane made the room even darker as it blocked out what little light had crept into the room. She wanted to feel the feel of it under her fingers.

“You can touch them,” he whispered, his breathing labored by Y/N's ear. “But only if I can touch you.”

“But you already do” she gasped, a thin layer of sweat beading on her forehead.

Azriel then let go of her thighs and slid between them, then reached down to her panties and pressed the outer curve of his hand to the spot where Y/N's body throbbed and almost burned. Gasping for air, panting, she made sounds that she should have been ashamed of, but her mind was in a fog and she could not contain herself. She would be ashamed later, but for now she could only cling to Azriel's strong shoulder.

“Here, Y/N” Azriel chuckled. “This is where I want to touch you.”

Y/N bit her lip at her husband's lustfuled words and nodded.

“There –“ her throat was tight, she could hardly get the words out. “It's good there.”

“Is it?”

“Yes” she cried softly.

His hand had pulled her underwear aside and was now touching her bare skin, causing Y/N's head to bob to the side and she clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle her voice.

However, Azriel stopped her hard and gave a disgruntled squeak.

“No, Y/N,” he muttered darkly. “I want to hear you.”

His wings fluttered, drawing her attention, and she stretched out her arm. When she touched the taut, silky membrane, Azriel shuddered and rubbed her harder between her legs.

Y/N loved what she was eliciting from her husband, so she repeated the motion and this time touched her fingernail to it a little, letting it gently scratch the inside of the wing.

“Cauldron” Azriel almost gritted his teeth in pleasure and buried his face in her neck. “You drive me crazy.”

Y/N felt the same way. His hand between her legs, his lip now brushing tiny kisses on her neck. It was killing her and she felt like a bowstring being stretched, ready to snap at any moment. Something was building inside her, the warmth in the pit of her belly seemed to be tightening and it was almost unbearable.

Then Azriel slipped a finger into the wetness between her legs and she gasped for air. It was a stinging sensation, but as he curled his finger he hit a good spot in her and she began to moan.

When Azriel gently pulled it out and then slipped back in, she heard that wet squeaking sound and it made her even more excited.

She wanted to touch him too. So much so that she had the courage to slip her hand into Azriel's pants and touch his hardness.

“Y/N” Azriel gasped as he pulled away from the delicate skin of her neck and peered down at her in the darkness.

“Teach me, please” she whispered with heavy lids. “How to touch you so that you feel as I feel now.”

Azriel closed his eyes and laughed softly.

“I already feel like that” he panted, but he helped Y/N and showed her how to take him in her grip. How tightly to squeeze and when he moved his hip to move into her hand, Y/N felt herself die instantly in admiration.

“Honey” Azriel sighed. “I need to be inside you.”

She knew what he meant.

She was a little afraid, because the women had said it would hurt terribly. However, what they had just done with Azriel had never been told that she would feel like this, so she hoped the sex would be different. Just as fantastic as this.

She opened her legs wider, giving him permission to make her his. Azriel immediately pulled her underwear off her and his own pants, then took her in his arms.

He adjusted himself between her legs but stopped and the golden brown eyes almost burned her face.

“This might hurt a little” he whispered to her and stroked her cheek affectionately. “But I'll try to do it as slowly and gently as possible.”

“It's fine, Azriel” she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and that's when she felt him shiver slightly too. Well, he was nervous too. “I'm used to the pain.”

Azriel froze, then sank down on top of her, so that their naked bodies were touching.

“From now on, no one will ever hurt you again,” he growled, his voice hard and purposeful.

Then he entered her, very slowly and Y/N gasped. She tensed in pain and whimpered and Azriel took her head in both hands and kissed her.

Finally when she thought she would pass out, she felt she couldn't take it. They lay there for a long time, but Azriel pushed forward and forward and then stopped.

Y/N sighed shakily and when her pain turned into a dull throbbing, he moved.

It was awfully strange the way Azriel moved inside her. It was unfamiliar, but after a while it got better and she gasped and clung to Azriel as if he would hold her and not let her fall over the precipice.

Emboldened, he thrust his hips faster and harder toward her and pulled her toward him with one hand, making them both gasp for air.

“Gods” Y/N broke from Azriel's lips and she groaned. Somehow the man moved in a different way and it drove her mad. “There!”

As if born to pleasure his wife, he repeated the motion again and his hand slid to her breast. He took one of her nipples between his fingers, then leaned in and licked it, whereupon Y/N clamped herself around her husband's member and moaned.

“Come for me, honey.”

His finger slid to her clit and rubbed it, which triggered something inside her.

Lights exploded behind her eyelids, her insides clenched and an animalistic moan tore from her. The heat was overwhelming her and she was sure it was over, she would die here and now, but Gods - if it is death she will be glad to go with it.

Azriel's hips slammed hard against her and she felt something warm flood over her and he shuddered. She wrapped her arms around him as if to protect him and their sweaty foreheads touched as they panted with the sensations that overwhelmed them.

Y/N opened her eyes and studied Azriel's face in the dim light. His handsome face was now relaxed and a small smile lurked at the corner of his mouth, his long black lashes casting shadows across his cheek. Her breath caught as she opened his eyes and his golden brown gaze locked on her.

There was an air of kindness and contentment that was evident in the way his hand stroked gently down her side.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly and pulled out of her, careful not to hurt her. The sheet was a little bloody, but neither of them cared.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered and turned to face him as he lay down next to her. Azriel covered them with the blanket and took her hand. “It didn't hurt that much.”

He smiled and kissed her hand.

“It won't after this.”

“Will it be after this?” asked Y/N shyly but hopefully.

“There will be a lot after this.”

Y/N almost burst with joy. Maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all.

[milla-frenchy]

3 sides of a man

3k3 | Javier Peña x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: you meet the biggest seducer of the DEA. There’s no way you will fall for him. Right? Warnings: 18+ mdni. seducer!javi as we know him, soft!javi, somnophilia, oral (m), piv, creampie. No age specified.

a/n: this is written for @burntheedges 's roll-a-trope challenge. I got secret relationship with Javi 🧡 Thank you for the event Kate 👌❤️

Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕 @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏 @morallyinept for your Javi's dialogue page 🌻

It was already daylight when you woke up, rays of the sun warming your bare back, the sheets a mess at the foot of the bed. You were facing him, the sun only reaching his hand, placed on your pillow. He was asleep, naked, and his tanned ass was a call to sin. His bent knee was pressed against your bare thigh. You loved when he slept in your bed, which would keep his scent for a few days. A mixture of cold tobacco, cologne, sex. Of him.

Javi.

He sighed in his sleep, rolling onto his back. Revealing his happy trail that seemed to trace a light line down to his bush, and his soft, sleeping cock. Soothed.

You bit your lip, trying to resist the temptation. Your gaze trailed up his body, to his biceps that bore the mark of a hickey you had given him during the night, while he was fucking you slowly, lying between your thighs, keeping you consensually trapped in his arms. Desire overflowed from your folds as you thought about it. Quickly, you raised your gaze to his beautiful face, his carefully groomed mustache, his cheek scarred with the crease his pillow had given him. His messy hair, both from the dance of your two bodies and from the night of sleep.

You were so fucked.

When you joined the ambassador's office, fresh from the US, you didn't expect to break some of your principles. The most important being having a secret relationship with the biggest player of the DEA, who regularly checked out every woman in the department, and used his charm to get around the administrative burden that drove him crazy.

Peña

The first time you saw him act that way, was actually the day you met him. You were sitting in the hallway of the DEA, waiting to be received by the ambassador. You saw this man, wearing clothes that seemed glued to him and a little dated. Dark hair, brown eyes, a cigarette between his lips, walking next to another agent- a blond one. When they passed one of the assistants, the dark-haired man turned around to check her ass, and you hadn't been able to stop yourself from exclaiming a high sigh. He looked at you and paused for a moment before catching up with his coworker.

The ambassador came out of her office at the moment they reached you, and introduced you. Their names were Steve Murphy and Javier Peña. Peña held your hand for half a second too long, and your frown made him smile slightly, until your hands separated. As if you had become a challenge he had to win.

There was no way he would think you would be receptive to his play, even if he was one of the most gorgeous men you ever met.

That man was surely a seducer, but you noticed soon he was a mystery. He loved to check women out, but mostly he seemed to love the power of seduction he naturally had over them. He didn't use flirtatious looks, he didn't have a special or warm attitude. And despite all that, he didn’t have to try hard, they fell for him. You couldn't help but roll your eyes each time you were seeing their eyes sparkle when he spoke to them, or the way they would wrap a lock of hair around their finger.

They did not see that his gaze on them was fake, almost cold. That he just used them to get rid of what was bothering him in his hunt for Escobar. They didn’t realize they were the asset of the moment, forgotten as soon as he got the information or paper he wanted. Replaced quickly by some next asset. You didn’t understand how they could fall for him so easily. 

Of course, he quickly realized you were really not receptive to his play. You didn’t giggle when he spoke to you, you didn’t lean forward when you had something to ask him. You talked to him neutrally at best, but mostly coldly, calling him “Peña”, always. He gave you a piercing look once or twice, seeing that his charm wasn't working with you. 

You even confronted him one day, when you turned towards him on the stairs, and he didn’t have time to look up from your ass fast enough. You started to climb the stairs again, letting out a “no need to look, Peña. You’ll never fuck me.” He raised his hand towards him, ready to answer you, when you cut him off: “and don’t offend me by saying that’s not what you want. You won't pin my name on your list of conquests.” After that, you caught his gaze on you sometimes, but in a different way. Like a burglar searching patiently for the combination to a safe. 

You kept hearing conversations of agents talking about him and how he used his informants to know more about the sicarios. Or even some conversations between him and Steve in the corridors of the DEA:

"Are you fucking her?"

"Sleep with a communist? That would be downright un-American." 

Peña barely hid the sarcasm in his voice.

Nevertheless, you quickly learned that the man you only took for a seducer happened to be one of the best agents of the DEA. Serious, invested, abrupt. Bossy. Never hesitating to speak his mind. He had a bad reputation among some of his male colleagues. He obviously didn’t care at all, and even seemed to enjoy it, but you hated it. Hated the injustice, hated the fact that he was criticized for doing his job better than them. He wasn’t your favorite person in the world, far from it, but his professionalism couldn’t be questioned in good faith.

Another thing his colleagues or superiors might have hated was his sassiness. Sometimes you didn't even know if you should be shocked or amused by his condescending insolence.

One day he saw your half amused, half embarrassed smile, even though you tried to hide it behind your hand. From the day you met, Javi was determined to make you look at him differently. Not even like the other women did. He wanted you to really see him. The real Javi that he never showed to anyone since he moved to Columbia. Step by step, the way you looked at him obsessed him. He didn't care about other people's opinions, except for yours. Partly because you resisted him and he wasn't used to it, but also because he could sometimes see parts of your real personality that you were hiding, just like him, and it was as if he knew instinctively he would like it. So the day he heard your suppressed laughter, he knew how to behave around you.

Javier

What you didn’t know was that the man he was going to show you would make his way into your mind. Offering you sensitivity, even softness sometimes, you didn’t expect. His smile for you was warm. At first, you thought he was playing with you, acting differently just to have you. And there was no way it would happen. You tried to change the way you were beginning to perceive him. But the sincerity he showed, so different from his initial attitude, was slowly winning you over.

It took him months, but you started to call him Javier, instead of Peña. And you realized one day that you liked the sound of his first name on your lips a little too much. 

You didn't roll your eyes anymore when he was talking to you, and he seemed to act slightly differently with the women at the office. After a year in the DEA, he was not only making you smile, but laugh too, and you admired the way he stood up to the ambassador. Or the way he walked down the halls in his leather jacket. Or the way he held his cigarettes.

Your brain tried to warn you that you were screwed, but your heart silenced it. An internal battle your brain was already losing.

He became almost a friend, with whom you spoke about your previous lives. He told you about Laredo, his father and the ranch. You knew that he kept certain aspects of his life secret, but patiently, you were hoping to learn more. You told him about your childhood, in Texas too, your studies, how you had joined the Ambassador's office.

And finally, he became a friend. A friend you suddenly kissed at home one day, before he pinned you against the wall of your dining room, letting out an impatient “I thought you didn’t want me to fuck you?” between two kisses, to which you responded with a breathless “shut up, Javi,” your fingers lost in his tousled hair. “Javi, uh?” he growled, pushing the head of his cock in your cunt.

He fucked you against the wall, and you made him promise never to tell anyone about it, demanding nothing else from him. You really thought it would be a one time thing. Except that the way his cock spread your folds and brushed your g spot was a little too perfect. And the way he talked to you through it, half spanish half english, was way too intoxicating to stop, now that you had tasted it.

And now his tight jeans seemed to scream “fuck me” at you every time you saw him at the DEA.

You saw a clear change in his attitude after the second time you fucked. Probably because he felt you tense up when Colleen showed him her new nail polish. You couldn’t help yourself, even though you quickly pulled yourself together. But not fast enough for him not to notice. He avoided Colleen, and didn’t try to tease you about it. Didn’t play. That night, you told him he could fuck whoever he wanted, just before impaling yourself on his thick cock, after you pushed him against the couch.

“Really? You wouldn't mind?” he smiled, before grabbing your hips and imposing the rhythm he wanted. Or rather, the rhythm he knew you wanted.

You didn’t mention it again, and Colleen never showed him her nails again. He didn’t give compliments in a seductive way anymore either, didn’t turn around to look at every woman he passed in the hallway.

You loved it a little too much, when after you barely opened the door to your apartment, he would slip through the crack and wrap his arm around your waist, holding you tight against him while his lips were already pressing against yours. Your hand resting on his shoulder covered by the leather of his jacket, helped you to keep your balance as he was spinning you around. A spin that made you lose your mind for a moment while your heart didn't know how to stop spinning at all.

It was more and more difficult for you to hear some of his coworkers calling him an asshole. You asked him why he only showed them that side of himself, while you knew how much he had to offer.

“Why would I show them anything else? We work together, they do their job, I do mine, that’s all,” he answered with a shrug. “I don’t care about them,” he added, looking you straight in the eye, which made you swallow loudly, hearing his way of expressing in half-words how special you had become to him.

And on top of his professional skills, he fucked you like a god, making you chant “Javi” in the darkness of your or his bedroom. He was way too hot, enjoying an after sex cigarette, lying on the couch in his jeans, looking at you with his messy hair, as if he already wanted to fuck you again.

Javi 

He respected your choice to keep your relationship a secret, but couldn’t help but let his hand rest on the small of your back for a little too long, when he followed you to the elevator. He was torturing you with his sad puppy eyes when you said ‘no’ to him, for whatever professional reason. Forcing you to frown when someone else was nearby, to make him stop. Then he would stop, smiling, and you would fall a little more for him.

It made Steve smile once or twice, clearly not fooled.

“Are you gonna see Vanessa after work, Javi?” he asked him once, in your presence. You didn’t know who Vanessa was, but the way your heart suddenly curled up on itself made you think that your brain was definitely right, months ago.

“No,” Javi answered, visibly annoyed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been there.”

Steve smirked before leaving the office.

“You’re ok?” asked Javi, eyebrows furrowed, concerned.

“Yeah,” you replied through gritted teeth, trying to catch your breath after holding it for what felt like far too many seconds. You left for a meeting, while he was rubbing his fingers anxiously.

The thing is, you loved a little too much how he kissed your lips, your nose, your neck. Feeling his moustache move down your shoulder, kissing your skin without stopping before reaching one of your nipples, sucking, nibbling, licking it. Everything about him was sensual and feline. Soft. He was made to love, kiss, fuck. And you realized that you couldn't do without him anymore. And that your heart couldn't bear to share him with someone else.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked you that night, at your place, just after you hung your jacket on the coat rack.

“Talk about what?” 

He tilted his head to the side, and added gently “come on baby, don’t play with me.” 

You tried to smile. Tried to shoo away the invisible hands that were gripping your heart, squeezing it like a lemon.

“Vanessa’s a hooker,” he said, and you stopped him, reminding him softly that he didn’t have to explain anything.

“I just want you to know, hermosa. I don’t want you to get wrong ideas.”

Hermosa. It was the first time he called you that, your little heart starting to beat again and pushing back the pressure that had been increasing on it until then.

“I used to go to that brothel. But I haven’t in a while. In fact… I’m seeing only you, baby.”

“I told you I wasn’t asking anything from you, Javi,” the smile on your lips wasn’t reaching your eyes that were about to burst into tears.

“I know. But there are things we say out loud. And  things our bodies say. I see the way you tense up sometimes. And I don’t want that. There’s no one else.”

Your gaze was downcast as he processed his confession. He gently grabbed your chin, between his thumb and index finger, lifting it towards you.

“Is that ok?”

You nodded, and he gave you the sweetest kiss ever, his soft moustache brushing your skin.

“You still want this to be a secret?” he asked, and you nodded again.

“Okay. It’s hot.” His warm smile was devastating and it was impossible for you not to fall for him. “And seeing you blush and roll your eyes at me in the office… it’s really cute.” This time the smile reached your eyes, and the tears that had been threatening to fall until then dried up. He took you in his arms and kissed you, his hands resting on your cheeks as your arms were wrapped around his shoulders.

You were thinking about it, the morning after having this conversation, lying in your bed facing him asleep, while you could no longer count the number of times you fucked.

Or ignoring how fast your heart was beating for him.

Yeah, you were fucked.

And couldn’t resist the cock in front of you anymore. You wanted to feel it come to life in your mouth, thickening until your lips ached around it.

You settled right next to him, trying to move the mattress as little as possible so as not to wake him. The tips of your fingers lightly ran over his bush, strewn with little white pearls of cum, and your desire from the night that had flooded on him.

The tip of your tongue delicately brushed his cock. Both of your tastes instantly coating your throat. You licked his slit before taking his tip into your mouth.

“Hermosa?” he muttered in a sleepy voice, lifting his head to understand why he was feeling heat spreading from his crotch.

“Shhh, lemme suck your cock, Javi.”

“Damn,” he said, letting his head rest on the pillow, his fingers on his forehead. “You're gonna kill me.”

“I hope not,” you chuckled and took him back into your mouth, your lips focusing on his tip.

And you loved hearing his breathing quicken when you took him deep in your throat.

You loved how his fist tightened in your hair when you licked the thin skin of his balls.

You loved hearing him moan when you sucked his tip, or licked his shaft from his balls to his crown.

You could never have enough and you wouldn't have stopped until his hot cum filled your mouth, if he hadn't placed his hand tenderly on the back of your neck.

“Come here, baby. Wanna feel you against me.”

Your eyes locked with his for a little too long, while you were still kneeling between his thighs, your hand on his shaft, and your lips still rounded around his tip. A twitch of the corner of his lips warmed your heart. You released his cock, letting his precum flow into your throat one last time, and kissed him before laying down on the bed. He settled between your thighs, just like you loved the most. That way you could see him. Lock your eyes with his, while his cock would brush against your walls relentlessly, in the sweetest, perfect way. Like he was made for you. You loved to see that his stare wasn't fake or cold towards you. Day after day, your heart was melting a little more.

And you wanted to keep it a secret, you wanted Javi for you only, for now. You loved this little secret garden that made your story so special, only yours. You loved being the only one, seeing his warm smile and eyes.

His hand brushed your cheek as he asked “what's going on in your pretty head, baby?”

“Just you, Javi…,” you answered.

“Really? Good thoughts, or bad thoughts?”

“Oh, terrible,” you smiled, while your fingers were running through his dark hair.

“Of course. Gonna have to change that, then,” he said, nestling his wide tip at your entrance, the sensation alone making you moan.

“What about those thoughts, now?”

“A little better,” you breathed out, your playful gaze fixed on him.

“Mmmm….” He slid his forearms under your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. “And now?”

You whined and hid in his neck, as he was thrusting in, slower than ever.

“They're… good. Oh my god so fucking good, Javi.”

“I thought so,” he chuckled. “Fuck, baby…” he added, his shaft sinking slowly until your core fully welcomed it. Your eyes were rolling back in the back of your head with every brush against your g spot.

“Keep going, Javi, please,” you whimpered. “I want more, please. I need a little more.”

“I know, baby, I'm not going anywhere. You're always so wet, so tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me.”

He kept thrusting in slowly, like both of you needed it, until you came on his shaft, and he came in your cunt, deep, so deep. Moaning in your neck. Your breaths slowed down, and he kissed your neck and your chin.

You drove to the office in two separate cars, as usual. You went to a meeting as soon as you got there. When you got back to your office and opened your drawer to put a file in it, you found a note in Javi’s handwriting.

“Already miss you. Can’t wait to have you just for me tonight, and feel your skin against mine.”

Javi p masterlist

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[yu-huuuu]

Omg! I just read your Uchiha boyfriends and how they deal with their SO's period and I loved it! Sasuke's is hilarious!

Have you seen the video of a guy's gf teaching him and walking him through tampons via a tampon and a glass of water? That's ALL I was imagining during Sasuke's...XD

So, since that would be hilarious, could I ask for headcanons with the Uchiha bfs with that in mind? Or if that's too little context, maybe the period cramp simulators with how far they go before dropping to the floor in pain/how they treat their SO after that? I love your writing, binging all you have on Tumblr rn❤️👏🏻💙💜

[ 🌸 ] Lmaaao nonnie thanks and love u for asking this 😂😂

characters: itachi uchiha, obito uchiha, madara uchiha, sasuke uchiha, shisui uchiha

genre: fluffy with a touch of comedy

warnings: none, mentions of intimate moments, mention of tampons, menstrual cups, vaginas you know things from month to month, menstrual simulators, pranks, adult men somewhat traumatized by their girlfriends

…

Also add menstrual cups to the mix because I'm in love with them :>

oh, i think this video is the one nonnie is talking about! (It was also the first one that appeared to me 😂) ⭐️

…

…

..

.

Itachi Uchiha

— Several things will happen at the same time.

— His mind will go blank as his face turns slightly pale.

— And his eyes will open a bit as he watches the cotton transform Sailor Moon-style.

— Except there are no sparkles and cute outfits.

— No.

— Not at all.

— There is an abominable thing the size of his entire hand floating in the water.

— Itachi won't look at you the same way, especially when you're in the bedroom during one of those intimate moments.

— Even though you already told him it was just a joke, the poor man will be worried.

— He'll look at your hole wondering if it's okay inside (I promise it's okay, Itachi 💀).

— For your own good and for his... don't show him menstrual cups.

— He now knows that the tampon doesn't deform when it's inside you.

— But you have to fold a cup to put it into your tight hole and when it's inside it just... puff returns to its original shape and... are you okay…?

— No, bad idea.

— Just no.

— Don't show it to him.

— As for the menstrual cramp simulators...

— Haha

— You like to see him suffer, don't you?

— Look, pretty woman.

— There's something called being human.

— Itachi, despite being a shinobi, is human (a very cute one, by the way).

— And Itachi, like any other human, feels every sensation he experiences throughout the day. Sometimes he feels more than you, he just doesn't show it due to his perfect control over his emotions.

— But all that control goes out the window when you turn up the power on the cramp simulator.

— He stays like this: "😨," but it's so subtle you don't know if you're imagining it. Meanwhile, the poor man feels his stomach contracting with pain until his breath catches a bit.

— Itachi is a shinobi, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel pain.

— He's used to a different kind of pain, not this one, you know?

— Poor thing.

— He won't look at you the same way after this... probably not at any woman.

— He'll drink his "respect for women" before starting or ending the day.

— He also now has some fear of touching you; sometimes you won't feel his touch completely when you're on those days (you tried to touch him to see if he was okay and all because you saw he was a bit pale, and he looked like he wasn't breathing when the simulator was at its maximum power. Don't worry, the poor guy was just too sensitive from the pain and now he thinks you get like that too, haha).

— In general, he won't change much. Well, now he brings you more sweets whenever he can and also makes bigger portions of food.

— He's also grateful to you because you've now given him a new experience and opened his eyes to topics or situations that, as a man, he never would have thought about, haha.

…

Obito Uchiha

—If your vagina is a muscle and it stretches with a tampon, does that mean you're exercising internally? (I don't think that happens, but good shower thought, Obito!)

—Pretty boy

—At first, he's very excited when you told him you wanted to show him something.

—He's like a little kid when you want to show him something.

—Except now it looks like you just told him Santa isn't real while taking away his Christmas present.

—He'll say something like: “Wait, that thing gets like that when it's inside you 😦?” while looking at the glass in horror.

—Congratulations, girl, you traumatized an innocent man, lmao.

—No, but seriously.

—Obito will now be distrustful of tampons.

—He might calm down, but then he'll get alarmed when he watches videos or reads about “how to insert a tampon in ten easy steps without pain.”

—And he'll be traumatized again when he sees how far you have to insert the tampon.

—What do you mean the string hangs out..?

—And then you have to pull it out?! Doesn't that hurt?

—Oh, don't get me started on menstrual cups.

—Just no.

—Never show your man the cups.

—No.

—Please, no.

—Just don't.

—At least he was excited when you showed him the period cramps simulator.

—The guy smiled until you turned on the device and he was just like.

—He asked you what level it was on, and when you told him it was on eight, he just said: “What do you mean eight? How many levels does it have?”

—You swear he's going to start crying thinking about all the times he had to run an errand or was called by the Hokage and had to leave you.

—He'll apologize almost crying as you increase the level.

—You can ask him what he means, but I advise you not to.

—You'll make him cry like a baby while he clings to you and apologizes for leaving you alone so many times, making you suffer all this pain *dramatic music starts playing*.

—Lmao.

—Obito will feel proud of you for facing this kind of thing every month.

—He might now say something like: “That's it, babe, fight those cramps!” while you're curled up in bed trying not to cry from the pain.

—It's not out of bad intentions, he's just trying to cheer you up the best he can, haha.

…

Madara Uchiha

—He will stare at the glass intently and then at you.

—Please do not interrupt his thoughts.

—He is imagining how the whole process happens.

—“Are you telling me that piece of cotton…”, and he can no longer continue while looking at the floating cotton.

—Just like Itachi, he won’t look at your little hole the same way.

—He will stay thoughtful, wondering if it returns to its normal form every time.

—It might kill the moment.

—Lmao.

—He might also offer his help to put a tampon in you.

—Just tell him yes.

—You will make him feel like he’s doing something important.

—With menstrual cups… mmm.

—He will congratulate you… for some reason.

—It’s not a big achievement, Madara, but we appreciate your words.

—He will look at you a little worried and at the same time proud while you fold the cup to insert it in yourself and he just…

—“That’s my woman, you can do anything, darling.”

—Uhh… yes, well,

—We’re talking about a man who grew up in a time of war, and don’t get me wrong, it’s not like he doesn’t know where the clitoris is.

—He simply doesn’t know and has no idea that the vagina is elastic, xd.

—Please explain it to him before he brags to someone about how you can handle everything.

—As for the menstrual cramps simulator:

—He is a strong man.

—Who said it would hurt him?

—Clearly, they’re out of their minds, he is Madara Uchiha.

—At least that’s what he thinks before you turn on the device.

—And he’s simply like: “What do you mean this is how you feel every month?”

—Madara is not dumb or forgetful.

—He has seen your naked body when you’re on those days.

—And suddenly it makes sense why your belly looks slightly more swollen when you’re menstruating.

—For Madara, it hurts slightly or at least that’s what he wants to imply.

—Maybe he will never tell you it hurt, but that’s okay.

—At least he took this experience as a lesson to know what else to do and how to act during those days of the month.

—“Madara, darling… why are there many more pillows on the bed?” “They’re for you to be more comfortable.”

—Poor man.

—At least he’s trying!

…

Sasuke Uchiha

—His worst enemy has returned.

—The tampons *dramatic music plays*.

—Ok, no.

—Anyway.

—You're so cruel, girl.

—He swears he'll burn all the tampons in the world while looking at the abominable thing floating in the water.

—He's like...

—Do you put that thing inside and it enlarge…?

—On the outside, his face will remain moderately calm (I'm joking, he already looks disturbed), but on the inside, his face is like: “💀”.

—Even if you tell him it's a joke, he won't shake that image from his head.

—For a whole week, he thought your vagina was filled with tiny cotton residues for some reason.

—Until you explained that was impossible.

—(He still thinks that to this day). Anyway!

—Ehh, cups...! They're fun and comfortable things!

—Until you see them from a man's perspective and things change.

—No, please, no.

—He can't imagine a CUP inside you.

—Out of curiosity, he looked up menstrual cups on the internet and now swears he'd burn menstrual cups too if he could (cups can't hurt you, Sasuke).

—Anyway.

—As for the simulators...

—He might refuse at first until he starts thinking about how he could benefit from this (you know, new knowledge, more power).

—So he decides to put himself in his girl's shoes to see the whole picture.

—He began to regret it when you raised the intensity to seven.

—His face might turn pale when you explain that some menstrual cramps feel like labor pains.

—He'll stare at the highest intensity level wondering if he's ready for that.

—Spoiler: he wasn't.

—At least now he buys you more ice cream and makes you hot chocolate with marshmallows on top, even though he hates the smell of chocolate.

—He'll also start reading more about the female body, looking for ways and methods to make it hurt less.

—So it's likely he'll now regulate the amount of black foods and drinks you consume (you know: chocolate, coffee, cola, etc.), all because he read in a study that black-colored beverages and foods are a key factor in intensifying cramps during the period.

—Good luck with your boyfriend being more protective than ever ;)

…

Shisui Uchiha:

—"Do you want to show me something...? Sure! What is it?" he'll ask with the most innocent and soft voice, that you'll wonder if it's too cruel to play this prank on him.

—Poor guy.

—You do it anyway.

—Lmao, I think there's no emoji that describes the face he made in those moments.

—When he composes himself, he'll be torn between looking at you and the glass container.

—Because gosh.

—Does that thING really react like that when it's inside you?

—Before, he was fine with seeing you use them.

—He knows it's much more comfortable for you, but now that he sees it in the container...

—He doesn't know what to think.

—The guy is still terrified.

—Poor thing, his soul left his body and greeted God before returning to you.

—He might laugh a little when you tell him it's a joke while trying to act normal.

—But eventually his imagination will fly and he'll start thinking: "What if it gets stuck?" "What if the string breaks?" (It's impossible for that to happen, Shisui).

—Of course, he's a smart guy.

—He'll practically run to investigate more about tampons until his mind is at ease.

—But accidentally he saw menstrual cups and...

—"What do you mean cups are also inserted?" he half yelled into nothing.

—Oops.

—You'll have to explain.

—"Cups are friends, not enemies, Shisui..." "But what if it gets stuck?"

—You swear he's about to cry.

—Luckily!

—He'll get over it in a few days (it lasted a week and another while he tried to recap what happened, and the new information).

—The cramp simulator is great.

—It can last quite a while, you know, smiling and looking handsome as always, until you raise it to maximum power.

—You think you broke something when suddenly it falls and you think you killed it.

—Oh.

—Don't worry!

—He's just suffering and recapping how all of this happened, also about all the pain you go through month after month and... Oh, is that an angel...? (No, Shisui, it's your girlfriend trying to motivate you to get up).

—Well.

—At the end of the day he thinks the same as Itachi; you've shown him the other side of the coin and he's grateful for that.

—He'll also be much gentler with you during these days of the month.

—And for some reason, if he finds out that Sasuke is not in favor of tampons and cups, they may secretly start a group against those things or something similar, it's also possible that they'll drag Itachi by force.

—Lmao.

lmao, guess who search and watch videos about how to put tampons in her for the first time... and it didn't work 😭

[indulgentdaydream]

Comparisons Pt.2

Jason Todd x Jealous!Insecure!Fem!Reader || Angst/Fluff || Word Count: 2,730

Part 1

Warnings: insecurities (reader). Bad self esteem (reader). Criticizing oneself in the mirror (reader). Black eye (jason)

Have at ‘er guys.

The first thing you did once you got back into your apartment was throw your bag on the floor. The next thing you did was slump back against the door and slowly slid your way down until you were sitting on the ground, knees to your chest, head tucked into your folded arms.

Your eyes had been burning the entire walk back. Your throat was tight and especially your lungs from how fast you had power-walked.

Now that you were out of the public eye, you let the tears finally fall after trying so hard to hold them back.

Thank the crime for Gotham’s low rent. You didn’t think you’d be able to make it to your bedroom to hide your oncoming sobs if you had been living with roommates.

You were exhausted. You felt entirely stupid, too. As if you weren’t enough for Jason. Artemis had everything. Everything you didn’t and more.

You were beginning to think he had settled for you.

You knew he could pull attractive women. Could pull damn gorgeous women. He was entirely handsome himself, even though he never saw it.

Nearly every time you two were out he would have people coming up to him. Flirting with him. Asking for his number. Even when you were right there, his arm around your shoulders or your waist. Or if he was alone because you had gone to the bathroom. That was when they came out of the woodworks the most. It’s like even they could tell you were subpar for him.

The thing is: Jason would never even look at them. No matter how long they stood there. Usually, when he had ignored them for long enough and was getting annoyed, he would pull you into a deep kiss. He wouldn’t stop until he was sure they had left.

You couldn’t even explain why you felt like this. Jason had done nothing to prove that he didn’t love you.

But if Artemis, someone Jason had very possibly loved before you, was still in his life… what chance did you have at being allowed to stay?

Another sob left your throat. You were never in Jason’s league. Why ever pretend? Especially for this long?

You had overstayed your welcome.

Your phone buzzed in your bag. A call coming through. You sniffled, as you pulled it out of your tote.

Jason’s profile was displayed across the screen. A picture you had taken of him when you had dragged him out to the park a few months ago. You were both smiling at the camera as you took a picture. You had thought he looked so handsome in it. A soft smile, kind eyes looking a little off from the camera, the sun basking him in a sweet early spring glow. You had never liked the way you looked in that photo. When you made it his contact, you had cropped yourself out.

You frowned as your phone kept ringing. You didn’t want to deal with him right now. You set the phone on the ground in front of you, face up, letting it go to voicemail.

Your phone went black again. You started feeling a little guilty. Then, seconds later, it rang again.

You didn’t pick up. Even despite the guilt that began to chew at your stomach lining.

That call only rang four times before ending again.

A minute. Then a text message.

Jason: Just tell me whether or not you made it home, baby. Please?

You stared at it for a moment.

Another text.

Jason: I’m coming by soon either way. We’re talking about this.

You frown. He sounded mad.

Your head pounded lightly. A headache from how hard you’d been crying.

Maybe he was coming here to break up with you.

You’d obviously been delusional the past few weeks. Jason was using a case as an excuse to distant himself from you. To get familiar with Artemis again.

That had to be it.

Another text.

Jason: I know you’re seeing these, love.

Screw him. Screw him and his perfect grammar. And his stupid pet names.

You picked up your phone, opening the messages. You send back a simple “Home.” Before closing your phone again, placing it on the ground.

Jason: Thank you. See you soon.

Tears burned at your eyes again, but you swallowed them back.

You pushed yourself off the floor. No point in letting him see you, huddled in a heap of despair, still in your food splattered work clothes. Making your way to your bedroom, you began to change out of your work clothes. You automatically reached for the grey t shirt hanging off the post at the end of the bed, but hesitated. You stared at it. The far too big for you, men’s t shirt that was worn around the collar and smelled so much like Jason.

Your hand hovered over it before you stepped away.

He’d probably be wanting it back after this.

You stepped towards your dresser, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

You hate it.

You can’t even see yourself as yourself anymore.

You stand there, picking yourself apart bit by bit. Rifling. Dissecting. Looking to find something good, something likeable, until you’ve tossed every part into the “discard” bin of your mind.

You can’t even do anything about it. All your tears are gone. You simply hang your head as you step into your sweatpants and slip on your t shirt.

You crawl onto your bed, not bothering to climb under the covers. Not bothering to shower.

The sun was still shining in, reminding you of how you were wasting such a beautiful day.

Your mind was working against you. Coming up with reasons for why Jason would be with you. Why he would have done everything that he had ever done with you if he didn’t love you.

The most prominent reason was that he was just taking pity on you. He had the time on his hands to do a favour for the lonely, ugly girl because he had broken up with his gorgeous amazonian warrior girlfriend. He couldn’t be giving out favours anymore now that he had her back.

You laid there on your side, arms hugging yourself. You realized you weren’t out of tears. They continued slip out of your eyes and pool to the pillow below you. The occasional sob leaving you when your mind concocted something else outrageous.

You don’t know how long you laid there for.

In the silence of your apartment, you could hear the lock of your front door click before the door swung open.

You tensed, arms hugging yourself as you laid on your side, back to the door.

You heard Jason slip off his boots, the steel toes he always wore clattering against the floor, signalling his arrival.

Padded footsteps followed, moving down the short hallway. Then the creak of your bedroom door behind you that had already been ajar.

Jason’s voice was soft as he called your name, “You’re not asleep, are ya?”

You simply glanced back at him over your shoulder, twisting. He took up the whole frame. He was dressed the same as earlier. Dark blue jeans, dark grey shirt with a faded brewery logo on it, and his leather jacket that he hadn’t bothered to take off at the door. His sunglasses were gone, showing off the fresh black eye that you hadn’t seen. He held a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand.

Who brings flowers to someone when they’re about to leave them?

You laid your head back down without another word.

More footsteps. The bed dipped behind you, Jason’s weight settling on the mattress, sitting in the crook where your knees bent.

A beat passed before he sighed, “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, doll?”

His hand reaches down to brush away the hair that was covering your face. The second his fingers brush over your cheek, you flinched back.

Jason draws his hand back, “Talk to me. I know how your mind gets, baby. What happened today?”

You stared straight ahead of you, towards the window Jason would often use to enter your apartment in the middle of night, the sunlight shining through. “Are you going to break up with me?”

Jason’s answer was quick. Honest. “No. Never.”

You should’ve felt more relaxed, but you didn’t. You just felt more stupid, “Did you love her?”

Jason paused, “Artemis?”

You nod.

Jason shifted on the bed, bringing more of his weight onto it before answering, “I thought I did. When I was with her. But… no.” Another pause. “You taught me what love was.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. You knew Jason loved you.

You felt horrible. began to cry again, your voice cracking.

You just… you just needed to make sure, “Are you only with me because— because you pity me?”

“What?” Jason’s hands were suddenly on your shoulders, turning you onto your back. His fingers brushed your hair back and cupped your face. “Of course not!” You met his gaze for a moment through a haze of unshed tears. You’d never seen him more worried. More concerned. More… heartbroken at your words.

His eyes drift to the wet patches on your pillow, then back to your face. He takes in your red eyes and red nose. “Baby… have you been crying over this? Thinking I was going to leave you?”

You look away from him without answering. A silent “yes”.

Jason sighs lightly, “Because of Artemis?” His thumbs begin to stroke your cheeks, “She was just giving me some papers for a shipment. She owed me a favour from a long time ago.”

“How long were you with her?”

“Eight months,” he said, though there was a flit of a questioning tone at the end of it. He corrected himself, “Nine.”

“Why have you never talked about her?” You see him frown, his eyes shutting for a moment. You feel your face burn from embarrassment at all your questions.

Jason takes a breath, “That relationship… wasn’t a good one. It was my second real one, ever.” He shrugs, “It was built off of shared trauma, I guess. Once the Outlaws disbanded we didn’t really have much of a reason to stick around one another.” He pauses. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’d even consider it a real relationship. More of a fling.”

There’s a beat. You still don’t look at him.

“You know I love you,” he says. You bite deep into the inside of your cheek. “You know I love you… right?” His words sound so distraught at the idea of him making you feel unloved.

A small breath left your lungs. “I know.” Tears spill over as you talk, your arms still wrapped around yourself, hands squeezing the flesh of your biceps, “But that could’ve been an easy hand over. Five minutes.” You tried taking a deep breath, “Why… why make time to go and have coffee with your ex when you can’t even make time for me?”

Jason cursed quietly under his breath. Your face crumpled, but you tried for keep it together. “She wanted to.” Jason said. “Trust me. I didn’t. But I need that information.” He shuffled more onto the bed, hovering over you. “You have no idea how happy I was when I saw you walking past. You were like some angel coming from heaven. I’m serious.”

The moment replayed in your mind. Your bottom lip wobbled uncontrollably as you remembered his consistent frown every time he had looked at you.

“Then why—“ your voice hitched with a small sob. “You only smiled at her. You just started nitpicking me the second she left. Started when— when she was still there.”

Jason sighed again, his eyes shutting, “I know. I was acting like an asshole. I know. I’m sorry.” He leaned his face closer to yours, thumbs swipes away your tears. “I just get so worried about you sometimes.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours.

You sniffle again, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Jason mumbled against your forehead before leaning back. “I’m sorry, baby. I was already ticked off that I was wasting time with her.”

You squirmed lightly, still hugging yourself, “I’m still sorry. I know you love me. I do trust you. I just—“

Jason shook his head, “No. Don’t be sorry. I shouldn’t have had coffee with her. I should’ve been picking you up from work.” He moved his hands to gentle grasp onto your hands, “Come on. Sit up for me, yeah?”

You followed his instructions, sitting up, crossing your legs in front of you. Jason grabbed a tissue from your bedside table, handing it to you to blow your nose. You felt like asking whether the case he was working was real or not. You decided against it, realizing his black eye should be proof enough.

Jason brushed your hair back as you blew your nose, clearing your face. “Why did you think I’m with you because I pity you, love?”

You look away, shameful, “Because… because you’re the first guy to ever ask me out.” You shrug lightly, “And… and no one else was wanting to. And I just…” You sniffle again. Jason takes your old tissue and hands you a new one, his other hand on your knee, his thumb stroking the side of it gently. “I saw how pretty she is and—”

“Not as pretty as you,” he gave you a soft smile, lifting your chin up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you off.”

You gave no reaction.

Jason paused, “…do you not think you’re pretty?”

You try and turn your face away again, shrugging, “I’m just so far out of your league. She’s not.”

“Damn right you’re out of my league,” Jason laughed softly, grasping onto your shoulders as they fell in defeat.

Finally. You thought. He realizes. This is it. This is—

He took one hand and tilted your chin until you were looking at him again. “Love, you’re leagues above me. You hear me? I’m serious. I’m so lucky to have someone as sweet and caring as you.”

You begin to shake your head. Jason firmly yet painlessly pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, stopping you. He begins to nod your head. Up and down. Forcing you to agree with him.

He presses his thumb into your bottom lip. He pulls it down and back up over and over again, mimicking speech as if you were some puppet. He pitched up his voice and octave, “Yes, Jason! I’m the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen!”

You can’t help it. A smile tugs at your lips. You pull his hand away and hold it with both of your own as you place a kiss to it.

Jason grins, tilting his face down to yours, “There she is. There’s my girl.”

You shake your head at him, “I’m sorry for thinking you were going to leave me for her…”

Jason smiles softly, “No more apologies. I know how your mind is.” He tilts his chin up and pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Evil mind.” He mutters against it, making you giggle.

You hum lightly, leaning into his touch. “What happened to your eye?”

Jason scoffed lightly, “Some thug last night. My helmet was already broken. He got a good right hook in.”

You smile up at him. You sit up straighter, pressing a feather light kiss to the edge of the bruising.

Jason hums in satisfaction, “Thank you, baby.” He smiles again, looking back at you. “What do you want to do now? You’ve got me until nine.”

You perks up, “Nine? But it's already four! Don't you have to read those papers? Don’t you have to—“

Jason smiled and shook his head, cutting you off, "Already did. I just have to intercept that shipment tonight and then you'll have me all day tomorrow, too. I’ve got nothing else but time to spend with my girl.”

Your smile grows a little wider, "Really?"

Jason nods, "I promise."

You play with his fingers as you think it over. Rubbing a thumb over his knuckles, picking up each digit and curling them and straightening them again, "Can we go for a ride?"

Jason grins, "Course, love. Where's your helmet?"

AHHH!! Hope you guys enjoyed!!!!

[greengoblinswifey]

could you do a story where frontman is readers sugar daddy, please and thank you I ❤️ your writing.

Luxury & Lies— Hwang In-ho x Fem!Reader

summary— Being In-ho’s sugar baby came with luxuries beyond your wildest dreams. You never questioned where his wealth came from, only cared about what you could get out of him. But when you stumbled upon the truth, the Squid Game and the power he held as the Front Man, you knew exactly how to use it to your advantage. And In-ho? He’d do anything to keep you.

warnings— Sugar daddy!in-ho, manipulation, cunnilingus, body worship, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff.

a/n— Thank you and enjoy <3

Youth and beauty on the outside was not eternal, that being said, you were always one to use it to your advantage.

It was by using those assets that caused you to stumble upon Hwang In-ho. He was an older yet very attractive man and obviously very wealthy. You knew how to play the game right and the night you had met In-ho, you were seated in the lounge area of an upscale restaurant that was famous for transactions like this.

He slipped into the seat next to you, decked in an expensive suit and as soon as you flipped your hair and tilted your head, he was sold.

You didn’t have to say much, especially when it came to older men, you let him do the talking, you were just there to look pretty and get what you want. And you got way more than you bargained for being Hwang In-ho’s sugar baby.

In-ho always gave you what you wanted. That was the foundation of your arrangement. You asked, and he delivered—no questions, no hesitations. It started with luxury handbags and designer clothes and shoes, then first class trips and five star hotels, and before you knew it, you had an entire apartment paid for in your name and a collection of jewelry that could make royalty jealous.

Being with In-ho meant being spoiled, but it also meant playing your role. You were his eye candy at every event, the one in his arm in dresses he picked out for you, flashing a smile that made investors and business partners envious. You liked the life you lived, liked the way people looked at you when you walked into a room together.

You never questioned how he could afford it all. What did it matter? You weren’t with him for his morality, you were with him for what he could give you.

But then you found out.

It had been an accident, really. You were in his office at the penthouse, bored and nosy, and you stumbled across a locked drawer in his desk. He always kept things private, but this was different, the secrecy intrigued you. So you looked until you found the key, expecting maybe some business documents or an old affair he never wanted you to know about.

You didn’t expect tapes.

Or the footage of people being slaughtered.

You sat frozen, watching clips from the so called Squid Game, men and women gunned down like animals, the screams piercing even through the speakers of his monitor. And there, in the midst of it all, was him—your sugar daddy, the man who paid for your lifestyle, standing over it all in that black mask.

The Front Man.

The truth settled like ice in your veins, but strangely, you weren’t horrified. You were curious.

For the first time since meeting In-ho, you had leverage.

So, you confronted him.

You remembered the way he looked at you when you brought it up. The sharp inhale. The slight flinch. He had tried to keep you in the dark for a reason, because, deep down, he feared this exact moment.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said, voice carefully neutral.

“Yeah?” You folded your arms. “Well, I did.”

A pause. A long, heavy silence. And then, a confession. He admitted everything. How long he had been in charge. What the games really were. The money, the power, the control.

“I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore,” he said eventually, looking down. “I won’t stop you.”

That was the moment you could have walked away. Should have, maybe. But you had no intention of leaving.

Instead, you put on a show, acted like you needed time, like you were shaken and unsure. Let him panic, let him compensate.

And, oh, did he compensate.

A brand new penthouse apartment, yours, fully paid for. A car, your dream model, delivered to your doorstep. Cash in your account, a credit card linked to his bank account. Jewelry, vacations, an all expenses paid trip with your homegirls on his private jet, all while he stayed behind, giving you space.

He only texted you once.

“Let me know when you're ready to talk.”

When you had everything you wanted, you decided it was time.

The night you returned, he was already waiting in your penthouse, standing by the windows with a glass of whiskey.

“You look beautiful,” he said, scanning your outfit like he hadn’t seen you in weeks, which he hadn’t. “Did you have a good trip?”

“It was perfect,” you said, slipping off your coat and letting it drop onto the couch. “Thanks to you.”

He exhaled softly, nodding. “And are you ready to talk?”

“I am,” you said as you walked toward him slowly, heels clicking against the floor.

He tensed. You could see it in the way his fingers curled slightly against the glass, like he was bracing himself for the worst.

“You kept a huge secret from me, In-ho,” you murmured, stopping just inches away. “That’s not something I can just forgive overnight.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry. For all of it.”

“I bet you are.” You reached for his tie, giving it a gentle tug. “But sorry isn’t enough. You have to earn my trust again.”

His breathing hitched. “Anything,” he murmured, voice low. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

You smiled, slow and sultry. “Good,” you said, stepping backward toward the bedroom. “Then follow me.” And just like that, he did.

You led him across the penthouse, never looking back, because you didn’t need to, you could feel his presence behind you, could feel the heat of his stare. By the time you reached the bedroom, you stopped at the edge of the bed, tilting your head just slightly over your shoulder.

He was watching you with hungry, dark eyes, scanning every inch of you. And then, you let yourself fall back against the silk sheets, stretching out, parting your legs to make your point.

His breath came uneven. “You—”

“You said you’d do anything,” you murmured, hooking a leg around his waist and pulling him closer. “Show me.”

Something inside him snapped.

He was on you in seconds, his hands gripping you, lips crashing against yours with a desperation you had never felt from him before. He wasn’t just indulging you—he was proving himself.

For the rest of the night, he did exactly that.

Because at the end of the day, you always got what you wanted.

The second In-ho had you beneath him, it was like something inside him broke loose. His hands were at your clothes in an instant, fabric tearing under his grip as he stripped you naked. The sound of ripping seams filled the air, followed by a sharp gasp from you as cool air met your skin.

“In-ho—”

“Shh, baby,” he murmured, dark eyes flickering over you like he was soaking up every inch to memory.

His lips were on you before you could respond, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, over your breasts. His lips were everywhere, like he was trying to worship and make it up to you.

Then he was lower, his mouth pressing against your stomach, his hands holding you steady as you squirmed.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, breath catching.

“Look at you,” he groaned. “So perfect. Always so goddamn perfect for me.”

And then, he had you unraveling.

The first stroke of his tongue against your pussy had your back arching, fingers twisting into the sheets as pleasure shot through you like lightning. He moaned against you, gripping your thighs to hold you still, but you couldn’t—not when he was devouring you like this, like he had been starved for you.

“You taste so good,” he murmured against your pussy, pressing a kiss between every stroke of his tongue. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You barely heard him past the pleasure that built and built with every expert movement of his mouth. He was relentless, slow at first, savoring you, but when he felt you tense, when he heard the way you gasped his name, he tightened his grip and ravished you with ferocity that had your legs shaking.

“That’s it,” he rasped. “Cum for me, baby. Let me hear you.”

And when you finally came, when you cried out so loud you swore the whole city could hear, he only held you through it, kissing your thighs, whispering praises against your heated skin.

“You’re a dream,” he breathed, pressing a lingering kiss just below your navel. “So beautiful. So good for me.”

In-ho didn’t stop. Even after you were left trembling beneath him, after your breath was still shaky and your body tingled from the aftershocks, he kept kissing you, soft presses of his lips against your skin.

“You're everything,” he murmured between kisses, trailing from your chest to your lips. “More than I deserve.”

The way you shivered when his fingers brushed your breasts, the way your breath hitched when he pressed a kiss just below your chest. He worshiped you, whispering apologies against your skin.

“Forgive me,” he said, forehead resting against yours. “For everything. For keeping things from you, for being selfish enough to want you despite it all.”

You cupped his face, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. “You're not losing me,” you promised softly, and the way his eyes darkened told you he believed you—but he needed to prove himself anyway.

His mouth found yours in a desperate kiss, hands gripping your hips as he pressed himself against you. You felt him—all of him, hard and heavy against your thigh.

Another thing about In-ho? He was the full package. The biggest you’d had, the biggest you probably ever would have, and he knew exactly how to use it.

He smirked at the way you swallowed hard, his hands skimming down your sides, teasing, making you wait.

“You always act like such a brat,” he murmured, pressing open mouthed kisses to your neck. “Like you don’t need me.” His hand wrapped around your thigh, pulling you flush against him. “But then I get you like this, and you melt for me.”

“In-ho,” you gasped, gripping his shoulders.

“Shh, baby,” he murmured, dragging it out, making you feel every inch of his cock as he slowly pressed against your folds. “Let me take care of you.”

And when he finally gave in, when he finally stopped teasing and claimed you, it was deep, slow, possessive. He worshiped you, murmuring praises against your lips, against your skin. He filled you inch by inch, your pussy quivering around him.

“You're perfect,” he groaned. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your nails dug into his back, legs tightening around him as he pulled you closer, right on his dick. Every slow, deep stroke unraveled you, and he felt everything, the way you clung to him, the way you gasped his name like a prayer.

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed, pressing his forehead to yours. “Give it to me. Cum.”

And when you finally did, when you cried out and your body tensed beneath him, he held you through it, his own breath ragged, his grip tightening like he never wanted to let you go.

He didn’t pull away right away—just kissed you through it, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your lips. Soon, you felt the rush of his cum filling you up and his soft moans in your ear.

“Mine,” he murmured against your skin. “You’re mine.”

In-ho never just left you after. That wasn’t who he was.

No matter how intense things got, no matter how desperate or needy, he always made sure to take care of you after.

Tonight was no different.

He pressed a kiss to your temple before slipping away, only to return moments later with a warm cloth. He handled you carefully, murmuring soft praises as he cleaned you up, whispering apologies when you flinched from sensitivity. His touch was steady, so unlike the man who ran the most brutal game in existence. With you, he was different.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, running a hand down your thigh as he finished.

You nodded sleepily, reaching for him. “Mhm.”

That was all he needed to hear. He tossed the cloth aside and pulled you into his arms, shifting until you were resting on his chest, his fingers tracing circles into your skin.

“I’ll prove myself to you every day,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll always be here for you.”

You hummed in response, half asleep against him, but he knew you heard him.

That was something about In-ho, you knew this arrangement was transactional, but there was something deeply intimate in the way he held you after, in the way he needed to keep you close, like he was afraid you’d slip away in the night.

Even now, his grip on you was firm.

“You’re so good to me,” you mumbled, fingertips skimming his jaw.

“You deserve it,” he murmured, eyes half lidded as he looked down at you. “And more.”

He held you like that for the rest of the night, whispering sweet nothings, pressing lazy kisses to your hair. You didn’t need to say it out loud, but you both knew, no matter how complicated things were, he wasn’t letting you go.

[latenightdaydreams]

Thinking about them stealing Königs shirt from the bases laundry room. Sneaking it back to their room and sleeping in it ♡

If he catches them would he be embarrassed? Mad? Horny as hell? Punish them?

I think ALL of the above🤭

Little Thief (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, theft, domination, p in v, unprotected

1.0k word count

👕

.

.

For the last two months, König has noticed that he’s been missing shirts from his laundry. He is a very meticulous man; he remembers exactly how many shirts he has. What the fuck? He whispers as he folds his laundry and realizes he has only eight shirts and not nine.

Little does he know, there is a little shirt thief. You. In your defense, you’ve only taken three shirts. Since you joined KorTac two months ago, you’ve become somewhat infatuated with König. His eyes are like a clear spring sky. Tall and strong, like an Olympian. As rough as he appears to be, he’s always kind. It’s hard to not fall for him.

It all happened one day when you were on your period and very horny. König had his dirty laundry in a basket, but was called away for a quick minute. You took the opportunity to steal a shirt. Taking a deep breath in, a powerful wave of König’s musk took over your senses.

Tonight was like any night. You did your beauty routine before bed and slipped into one of König’s shirts. Lights off in the room, you pull back your covers to get into bed. Exhausted after a long day, your eyes close quickly once your head hits the pillow.

Only a few moments later, you're woken up from your deep sleep by a banging on your door. You jump out of bed and rush to the door. Seeing Colonel König, you stand up straight.

“Yes, sir?”

“Y/n, have you seen—” his voice cuts off as he looks up from the tablet in his hands. You’re wearing his shirt.

He pushes you back, but not hard, and closes your door behind him. His eyes travel up and down your body, his shirt fitting you like a night down.

“That’s my shirt.” König points at you.

You can feel heat rise to your cheeks as you just gaze at him, totally speechless. “I…I.” It's hopeless. You’ve been caught.

“WHY ARE YOU TAKING MY STUFF?!” His Austrian accent makes his yelling seem harsher. He’s pissed. Why is this random recruit just stealing from him? Is she crazy?

“I’m sorry. I just like…you.” Your stomach drops, waiting for König to yell again and reject you.

“Give me back my shirts.” He says in a softer tone, feeling a blush form under his mask. Women like you don’t like men like him. He felt as if you were teasing him.

You quickly turn to go to your dresser and pull out two of his shirts. You hand them to him, trying to hide the embarrassment written all over your face.

“And that one.” He points to the one that you’re wearing currently.

Without a second thought, you obey. Grasping the hem of the shirt, you pull it off in one fluid motion. König’s jaw drops as he sees that you aren’t wearing a bra and only a tiny pink pair of panties. His eyes shamelessly trail up and down your body.

“You…” Now König is the one lost for words. He’s only ever seen you in your gear or in baggy clothing, he has no idea you were shaped so…perfectly. A beautiful face and the body of a goddess. His mind cycles through different options on how he can handle this situation.

A few seconds pass, but it feels like an eternity until König snaps out of it. He drops the shirts in his hands and moves forward to you. His gloved hands grasp the sides of your face and kisses you passionately, mask in the way. To your surprise he just pulls it off and tosses it to the side. His lips passionately coming back down to kiss you again.

His hands grab your thighs and lift your body effortlessly, rushing you both towards your bed. He lays your body near the edge of your bed before pulling away. You gaze up at him and take in his messy blonde hair, angular face, and a deep gash on his chin.

König pulls his gloves off and tosses them with his mask. He leans back in to continue to kiss you, hands caressing your delicate flesh. A low groan escapes his lips as his hands cup both of your breasts, his mouth leaves your lips and trails down your neck. His lips attach to your neck and suck, marking you with a hickey.

“You want to be mine?” He whispers as one of his hands trails down to the smooth fabric of your panties.

“Yes, I want to be yours.” You beg him.

“Fuck you’re so wet already.” His fingers feel the wet patch forming.

Leaning back, he fumbles with his belt buckle, trying his quickest to undress. His pants fall to his knees. Next, he turns to your panties, grabbing them near your hips and pulling down. His movements are frantic, as if he can’t control the lust that has taken over his body. He holds your panties to his face and takes a deep inhale.

“These are mine. You take my shirts; I take your underwear.” He teases before tossing them aside and grabbing your hips.

Once he sees your wet pussy he freezes, slapping his heavy cock on it. “Are you ready for me?”

“I have condoms—”

“Nein, you want to be mine?”

“Yes.” You look into his eyes as you speak.

“Then you’ll let me fill you with my cum.”

“Okay.” You don’t argue, you just want him.

He grabs one of your legs and holds it out to the side, his other lining his cock up with your pussy. “Beg.”

“Please give me your- oh fuck…” Your begging is interrupted by the feeling of his enormous cock stretching your tiny little cunny. A loud moan is followed as he looks down between your legs to see his fat cock being hugged by your lips.

“Fuck you’ve got a tight pussy.” He growls before rolling his hips and slamming into your roughly. “You think you can just take my things and get away with it?” His free hand reaches out and slaps your breast before grasping it tightly in his palm.

“I- I’m sorry.”

“You’re mine now, Schatzi.”

“Yes, yes, I’m yours.” Your eyes flutter as you drop your head back.

That’s all you’ve ever wanted, to be König’s. Now he’s here gapping your cunt with his monster cock and claiming you. This must be a dream.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (14/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: kind of fingering, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"Tell him the truth. Lying to my grandfather serves no purpose anyway. He's a skilled player. You have to win his trust." Said her betrothed, walking around her chamber with his hands folded behind his back as if it was simple, while she sat on her bed, looking at him in horror.

Lord Hightower had many reasons to doubt her loyalty, starting with her treacherous bloodline to the fact that, in all probability, Gwayne had convinced him that she had forced her way into his grandson's heart through his bed like a simple whore.

She lowered her gaze, fiddling with her fingers in nervous reflex – her lēkia approached her and knelt before her on one knee, taking her hands in his, slightly rough from holding the hilt of his sword.

"My grandfather is loyal to our family. I trust him. Do it, zaldrītsos."

Otto waited for her in the royal gardens in complete solitude, under one of the beautiful ancient arbours overlooking the sea. The day was sunny and hot, so she was dressed in one of the gowns of fine, thin fabric that she had ordered with her Prince's permission – she could have worn a garment belonging to his daughter, Queen Alicent, but she feared he would perceive it as an attempt of manipulation.

She was to be honest with him, as her betrothed demanded.

She sighed quietly, seeing his seated silhouette in the distance, silver trays full of lemon and apple cakes, caramelised dates, grapes and strawberries on a small white table in front of him. She blinked, coming closer with a rattle of stones under her feet, standing in front of him, feeling her heart stop in her throat.

Otto gave her a gentle, reassuring smile and held out his hand in front of him, pointing to the empty chair across from him, seeing how tense she was.

"My Lady. Thank you for agreeing to speak to the grumbling old man and listen to his concerns." He said lightly and she swallowed hard, sitting down, placing her hands on her thighs.

"Treat yourself. My daughter loves caramelised dates." He said and reached for one himself, taking a bite of it.

He chewed it and swallowed, nodding appreciatively, as if indeed their flavour appealed to him too.

"Do you know what my grandson's – and your betrothed's – favourite dish is?" He asked, looking at her curiously, as if he was challenging her.

She raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders, involuntarily grinning with amusement.

"I don't think such considerations occupy his head. He rarely delights in food, and if he does, it is more in the privacy of his own mind." She said calmly.

Otto hummed under his breath, as if her answer satisfied him, and nodded.

"Our Prince is a man of principle and loves simplicity. Deliberations on trivial things bore him and arouse his frustration, just like the romantic courting of women." He said, spreading out comfortably in his chair, placing his hands on the armrests, asking her the obvious question between his words.

How had she managed to seduce him?

She huffed under her breath and turned her gaze away, looking out at the sea stretching around them, the pleasant fresh breeze and shade cooling her sun-warmed skin.

"Like any man, he is not fond of empty words. He chooses his own deliberately and expects others to do the same. Unless he becomes enraged – then his fury erupts like a volcano." She said lightly, for some reason feeling no fear at the thought.

She had ceased to fear him long ago.

She knew that even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to truly hurt her.

"The letter you found in your chamber was sent to you on my command." He said calmly.

She froze, staring blankly ahead, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad.

It was a trial, she suddenly realised.

He wanted to see if she was trustworthy.

For some reason, a wave of sadness and disappointment rippled through her heart.

She naively believed for a moment that her person could occupy her father's mind.

Otto continued, hearing her silence full of disbelief.

"I need to know what you want, child. I need you to put your desires into words so that I can understand what kind of person is sitting right in front of me to become my grandson's wife." He said slowly, as if carefully choosing every thought that left his lips – his voice was gentle and soothing, as if he was trying to reassure her that what she was going to say would remain their secret.

She lowered her gaze, feeling her heart pound like mad in terror – not because she was afraid of him, but because his question startled her.

She didn't know what to answer.

She had never thought about it.

Until now, she had only been the fulfilment of his desires, she thought with shame, playing with her fingers, feeling certain Otto would take her silence as a bad sign, proof that her intentions were not pure.

"I am what he wants me to be." She finally muttered, feeling tears of embarrassment under her eyelids burning as much as if they were living fire.

Lord Hightower looked at her in silence and twisted in his seat with a creak of wood, as if surprised by her answer.

"Do you wish to marry him?" He asked, and she nodded without thinking.

"I want to be by his side. His presence fills my soul and heart with a strange peace. When he is beside me, I am no longer afraid. Of my father, of war, or of what will happen to me. I am not afraid of death or dragon fire. Sometimes I think it would be better for me to die in battle than to live to see the moment when I realise I have lost his affection." She choked out in a trembling voice, feeling the heavy tears one by one run down her cheeks – she was wiping them off the warm skin of her face with her hands, but they flowed anyway.

Why had she said that?

Why was she letting him know her weakness?

Maybe because deep down she hoped that he would kill her one day, she thought.

That he would not let her live to see the day when her husband would love another woman.

"Our Prince holds you in a respect and esteem that he has never bestowed on any woman before. He allows himself to be vulnerable and weak in your presence. Men, dear child, experiencing physical fulfilment without a soul bond, feel an emptiness after the act. Their desire is like a cry of desperation for purely childlike attention and tenderness – then, in his chamber, seeing him in your embrace, I saw a boy who feels protected and comforted. I'm afraid that my grandson fell in love with you."

She swallowed with difficulty, choking on her own tears, looking at him in disbelief, her heart pounding in her chest like mad.

I'm afraid that my grandson fell in love with you.

She shook her head, feeling that she could not accept those words.

He desired her, he enjoyed her, he was fond of her, but he did not love her.

"I dearly loved my late wife. She was my closest confidante, my beloved friend, the most beautiful of women. She was strong, and my grandson is weak. Filled with complexes, he lives to prove his worth, power and strength, not seeing that he is crushing the efforts of many years, made by me and his father. He needs guides, trusted advisors who love him and who want him to prevail. I know that it was because of you that my grandson told his brother about his plans regarding Rook Rest's. I know that you advised him against plotting behind Aegon's back and sought to rally them. You advise our Prince wisely and I wish you to be his wife. As the daughter of the Lady of Runestone, you are the blood of the Kingdom of the Mountain and the Vale, which will be crucial to us when the siege of Harrenhal begins. Your task to the Kingdom will be to rally the Lords against Lady Arryn's will and to stop my grandson from acting recklessly and violently. Do you understand what I have in mind?" He asked calmly, and she nodded quickly, wiping her hot, swollen cheeks with her hands.

"Yes."

As she was fitting her wedding gown, letting the servants and seamstresses check the length of the sleeves, she thought about Otto Hightower's words and how much they surprised her.

He was a shrewd and enlightened man, of that she was convinced – he also let her know that he did not see her as an enemy or a threat, but as an opportunity for them and the Kingdom as a whole.

For some reason, something in his words and the way he said them comforted her – she felt that, at last, the burden of the war and the Crown would partly fall off the Prince's back, allowing someone more experienced to advise him on difficult and complicated matters that would have overwhelmed the wisest of men.

She shuddered as the door to her chamber opened and her betrothed stepped inside, searching for her with his eye.

"No!" She squealed, fleeing behind the light-coloured three-door screen standing nearby. "It brings misfortune. Leave."

He shouldn't see her in her wedding gown before their nuptials.

She heard his sigh of impatience and his lazy footsteps on the other side – when he stopped the servants bowed to him and left the chamber, leaving them alone.

"What did he say?" He asked calmly.

She sighed quietly, stepping closer to the wall of thin material behind which she could see the shadow of his tall figure.

"That he wishes me to win the support of the Lords of the Vale for you. That I would help him control your impulsive nature." She said, and he snorted, frustrated, turning his head to the side.

"Is that how he sees me? As an uncontrollable animal to be tamed?" He asked with a regret that made her swallow hard, her fingers touching the fabric as if she wanted to touch his chest.

His heart.

"No. But he and I know what your anger means and how dangerous it can be. That it is only when its first wave passes that your coolness and common sense returns to you. There is a fire running through your veins – that is your nature. We do not want you to burn in the heat of your own fury, regretting later the deeds done in a sudden burst of rage." She muttered and heard him draw in a breath, as if her words pained him.

"He is disappointed in me, then." He said coldly and she closed her eyes, feeling helpless against his low self-esteem.

"No, brother. He wants your victory, exactly as I do. If you craved sweet lies, you would allow Larys Strong to pour poison into your ears, surrounding yourself with lords who would praise you and your greatness. You, in your wisdom, sent for your grandfather, who is sincere, who cares for you and your family."

"Ours." He corrected her, and she smiled involuntarily with gratitude.

"Ours."

She heard him take a step towards the screen, his forehead pressed against the material – she did the same, on the other side, hearing his quiet breath.

"– I desire you –" He whispered, and she sighed, feeling his words in her nipples, her lips, the tips of her fingers and her throbbing, swollen cunt.

"– let's last until our wedding – let's make this the night we've waited and longed for –" She said in a breaking voice, feeling that she was losing the battle with herself, his scent, his presence, his closeness making her grow hot.

"– what are you suggesting? – that you won't spend upcoming nights in my bed? –" He exhaled, placing his hands on the screen wall, and she felt a wonderful shiver of pleasure run down her cheeks, along her breasts and down her spine.

"– lēkia –" She gasped and they both sighed as the door to her chamber opened and Lysa stepped inside, holding in her hand the jewellery casket she had ordered for the occasion.

"– leave us, brother –" She whispered in a trembling voice, feeling her womanhood pulsing greedily around nothing, a drop of her wetness running down the inside of her thigh.

"– visit me tonight –"

"– I can't – for at least a few days let me pretend I have dignity –" She mumbled and heard him swallow hard, as if her words caused him pain.

She knew he hesitated, that he wanted to say something more, but resigned – she saw him turn and move towards the door, Lysa bowed to him as he left the room without a word.

She exhaled loudly, stepping out from behind the screen, and Lysa gave her one warm, comforting smile.

She was her only friend.

"They have arrived, my Lady – hair adornments, a dagger and a necklace, matching your instructions in every detail." She said, tilting the lid open.

She smiled broadly as she came closer, seeing the objects lying on the cushion – a thin, delicate golden chain with sapphires framed so that they looked like three water drops – two small and one large that was lying between them – her hair pins in the shape of forget-me-nots, also made of sapphire stones, and a long, beautiful dagger, her gift for her future husband.

She had chosen her jewellery deliberately – her wedding gown was sewn from fabrics in light blue tones and browns – she wanted to show her future husband her devotion to him and her own allegiance to Runestone at the same time.

According to what she had heard, King Aegon began to slowly awaken, but he was dazed and was merely babbling, fed with the milk of the poppy by the Maester – they wanted to spare him the pain, which must have been immense anyway, looking at how much of his skin had been burned in the fire.

However, the fact that he was regaining consciousness worried her Prince, who pushed for the nuptials to take place as soon as possible – he was afraid that his brother, as soon as he found out about it, would forbid the Septon to marry them out of sheer spite.

They renounced grand ceremonies and processions – their subjects were starving, and they did not want them to think that during their great suffering they were drinking wine and dancing, mocking them.

"Thanks to my spies, we were able to prevent great misfortune – a dozen inconspicuous boats arrived under cover of darkness from Dragonstone to King's Landing, filled to the brim with food. They were to be passed on as gifts from Queen Rhaenyra to her subjects. Instead, the food will be distributed on the streets of the city just before your nuptials, so that the whole Kingdom can rejoice with you." Said Otto during the Small Council meeting – her future husband had dismissed his mother in revenge for her affair with Criston Cole, thus freeing up a seat at the table.

As she was a dragon rider and would be participating in the war, she needed to know what was happening, so she was specifically assigned a seat in the Small Council, right next to the Prince Regent's grandfather.

She threw her cousin a quick glance and saw that he was looking at her as well, his grin indicating that he was more than pleased.

"Excellent." He said.

Her betrothed, in keeping with her wishes, had allowed them to spend the nights before their nuptials apart, she knew, however, that he was frustrated and made that known whenever he could.

"No. You stay, hāedar." He said when he closed the meeting and she stood up as did everyone else gathered.

She swallowed hard when she heard the door close – she saw out of the corner of her eye that he stood from his seat and approached her with a lazy, unhurried step.

She gasped as she felt his large hand on her waist, wandering up and down, his other hand without any warning slipped under the fabric of her gown from above and squeezed softly her silky, plump breast.

She pressed her lips together, suppressing a quiet moan of pleasure when she felt his parted, moist lips run over her neck, leaving a wet, sticky trail on her skin, his hot breath making her cunt, swollen with desire and longing, clench greedily around nothing.

"– stop –" She muttered, grabbing his wrist as his hand from her waist and hip slid down between her thighs, closing on her womanhood.

"– are you touching yourself? – hm? –" He asked coldly and she shook her head, panting heavily as she felt his hard manhood pushing against her buttocks, a drop of cold sweat dripped down her back.

"– no – I suffer just as you do, lēkia – please –" She mumbled and cried out, tilting her head back as his fingertips began to gently tease what was under the material of her dress, a wonderful wave of heat surging through her loins.

"– mmm –" He hummed and let her go, leaving her alone, thirsty and quivering with desire, walking out of the room without even giving her a single glance.

Contrary to what her cousin thought, it wasn't just for him that the wait for their night together was agony – her betrothed demanded that since he couldn't touch her, she couldn't either.

She knew that he also did not satisfy his urges in any way, which made him more mischievous – he would lurk for an opportunity for them to be alone and put his hand between her thighs to caress and tease her, whispering in her ear.

"– beg, and maybe I'll fuck you –" He hissed, her hand clenched on his arm.

"– n-no – please, please, stop –"

He let her go then, his jaw clenched in annoyance and some kind of awe, as if he didn't think she could really stand it – her whole body screamed before his eyes that she wanted it, and yet she still refused him.

It was a sign of strong will for him, proof that her words were not empty and her decisions were final.

On the day the nuptials were to take place, the entire Red Keep was put on its feet – Otto feared an attack from all sides, including poisoning, so guards personally chosen by him went to the Sept, as well as to the kitchens, to keep an eye on the cooks and make sure they didn't add anything to the food.

She was surprised by this, but she felt relieved that her future husband's grandfather was watching over everything.

From the morning, Lysa and the other servants had been helping her put on her gown – it fitted her body perfectly, revealing her cleavage and shoulders – the sleeves of the bottom dress clung to her arms, while the sleeves of her top dress, the blue one, was slit at the elbows, falling all the way to the ground.

Some of her hair was pinned up in a bun at the back of her head, decorated with small sapphire flowers, while some fell in waves down her back.

A necklace completed the look – it adorned her long neck and accentuated the colour of the fabric of her gown, however, she actually hoped that this and her sapphire hair adornments would be the only things left on her body during their wedding night.

She shuddered as the door to her chamber opened and she saw Queen Alicent before her – she stepped down from the small dais and bowed to her as did her servants, whether she wanted to or not having to show her respect.

The Dowager Queen stopped before her and sighed, folding her hands in front of her.

"Do you know what kind of man you will marry? Who my son is?" She asked, and she swallowed hard, wondering how a mother could know so little about her own child.

She thought she was simply afraid of the answers to the questions she was asking herself and didn't want to know them, separating herself from who her son was in her mind.

"Yes, Your Grace." She said calmly, looking her straight in the eye. "Our Prince holds you in deep esteem and hopes to earn your praise."

She saw Alicent's lips twitch, her eyebrows arching in an expression of regret, as if her words had caused her pain, her large brown eyes filled with nothing but sadness.

She nodded, as if accepting her words in her heart, and gestured to her servant, who held a small chest in her hand.

"I wish to offer a blessing to you and my son. I ask that you accept this small gift from me, along with my desire for you to be protected by the gods themselves." Said the Queen and opened the lid – she saw a fine gold chain with a small pendant in the shape of a seven-pointed star.

She nodded, looking at it, wondering if, when she went to see her son, she would find at least a few warm words for him.

The journey in the carriage through King's Landing seemed to last for ages to her – the streets were full of happy people – Lord Hightower, according to his plan, began handing out food to the people, leading to a sudden outburst of joy.

The smallfolk, in keeping with his desire, saw this event as a sign, recognising that the gods had supported the marriage between the Prince and his relative by sending them revelry, putting an end to their hunger.

However, for how long will the supplies stolen from Princess Rhaenyra last?

When will their suffering begin anew?

She swallowed hard at the thought that the war had to end as soon as possible, but both her future husband and Dragonstone knew that neither of them had enough advantage to bring the other to its knees.

When she arrived before the Great Sept and the carriage doors opened in front of her, she froze, feeling panic – the people around her were shouting her name, throwing flowers, reaching out to her as if she were some kind of semi-divine being, a symbol of the life they would never know.

She felt overwhelmed and stunned, alone among the crowd, small without her dragon and bow, dressed in a long gown like a doll.

For some reason she wanted to cry.

"My Lady." She heard a voice in front of her, then saw Otto Hightower walking towards her between the guards. "My Lady, give me your hand."

She swallowed hard and did as he asked, placing her palm on his, rough and large. With his help, she walked down a few steps to a small wooden platform, and from it to the ground, feeling that her legs were trembling with fear.

"I am not your father, but I will be more than happy if you do me this honour. It is a difficult journey and no young woman should have to walk it alone." He said calmly, and she looked at him with big eyes, noticing something in his gaze that could have been sympathy or simple concern.

She had always dreamed of someone looking at her like that.

The way a father would look at his daughter.

She nodded, thinking in the back of her mind that if she let go of his hand she would just fall, her legs soft as cotton wool.

As she walked with Lord Hightower into the Great Sept, she heard the sound of trumpets, young girls, daughters of lords and knights throwing flowers at her feet.

It all seemed unreal to her – the temple around her was so gigantic that it took her breath away, the great, tall statues of the Seven Gods towering over those gathered to form a circle, enclosing the entire structure.

At the very centre, on a raised platform stood the altar at which stood the Grand Septon and her betrothed, a sweet emotion squeezed her throat as she looked at his face.

Though he stood erect, with his hands folded behind his back like a statue, she could see that his gaze was hot, vulnerable, his eye large, his lips parted in a heavy breath as if he longed to cry at the sight of her – the fact that she had chosen not the colour of his or her lineage, but his colour, the blue of his sapphire, something only he could understand, the expression of her devotion, her understanding, her affection.

When they stopped at the steps Otto let her go, but she, seeing her cousin's face felt more confident – she grabbed the front of her gown and lifted it, not wanting to step on it, climbing slowly upwards, her steps echoing loudly around her.

She sighed quietly as she stood in front of them, not daring to look at his face, feeling that if she did she would cry for some reason.

It was really happening.

She was to become a wife.

She looked at him and it was a mistake – she felt a squeeze in her throat when she saw him draw in the air loudly when his gaze met hers, as if he felt something deep inside himself that frightened him, his lips slightly parted in a shuddering breath.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection."

Her cousin swallowed loudly, looked at the Septon and then behind him, nodding – Gwayne Hightower approached him with a long black cloak embroidered with green threads from which the figure of a three-headed dragon was formed at the very centre.

The crest of their family and the colours of the Hightowers.

She bowed humbly as he threw the cloak over her shoulders with a sweeping gesture, making sure the material did not slip, and she closed her eyes.

He took her under his protection.

"We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." Said the Septon – her betrothed extended his hand to her, standing proud and upright, so she placed her palm on his – the priest entwined their joined hands with a wide, bright ribbon.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words." He said, and they looked at each other, her heart pounding in her chest once before they both opened their mouths and their lungs left the words spoken surprisingly confidently and calmly.

"Father,

Smith,

Warrior,

Mother,

Maiden,

Crone,

Stranger

I am hers | I am his

and she is mine | and he is mine

from this day, until the end of my days."

They fell silent, and though she thought he would not do it, that it would be beneath his dignity, he took her hot cheek in his hand and leaned down, looking at her as if he held the entire heritage of Old Valyria in his fingers.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love." He whispered, only a quiet sigh escaping her throat as his full, fleshy lips pressed against hers in a deep, warm, moist kiss, so tender and soft that she felt a single, lonely tear run down her cheek.

My love.

When he broke the kiss he didn't move away for a moment, just looking at her, and she smiled in a way that must have made him happy, because he smiled too, shyly and sweetly, like a little boy.

They were husband and wife.

[izzabela]

Can you write about Bihan meets the reader as one of earthrealm's champions and immediately falls in love with her and is trying to find a way to be near her and ask her out on a date?

Melted Popsicle - Bi Han x fem!champion!reader (headcanons)

in which sunshine melts Bi Han

a/n: something something something bi han courts

ship[s]: bi han x fem!champion!reader

warning(s): none

Bi Han doesn't really do "love at first sight", but when Bi Han falls, he'll fall hard

And when he meets you, one of Liu Kang's champions, during a training session with the Lin Kuei, oh elder gods does he fall

- Bi Han, just like his brothers, is a loyal man. from the mission, to his clan, Bi Han will stay with you for a very long time

- Bi Han will stand around you like a guard dog, a quiet and protective presence

- it's unsettling, but you don't let it deter you as you talk to him, and boy does he enjoy it

- he wouldn't say it though, he'd just listen and hum in agreeance. the sounds of your voice softens his hardened features

- he'll spar with you. a lot. that's how you, the other champions, and his brothers realize he's taken a liking to you

- he'll give you grace during sparring, more that usual. he'll point out your flaws and show you how to improve them ten-fold

- Bi Han starts eating with you too. he'll either sit with you, or he'll take the time to ask you (usually goes like, "Come eat")

- it gets serious when Bi Han is asking his brothers how approachable he looks. he'll (reluctantly) ask Tomas how he gets along with the initiates, and he'll ask Kuai Liang how women always flock to him whenever they're out and about off-duty

- Bi Han starts paying attention to the little things about you when he realizes the advice from his brothers doesn't help him (honestly, it scared you with how quick he changed his personality). he listens whole-heartedly to anything you say you like or don't like about different things

- and you know what they say, to be loved is to be seen. Bi Han starts getting stuff for you, always having an extra towel for breaks in between spars, water, he'll always grab two sparring weapons whenever it's time to practice or learn new things

- Bi Han also gives you, and only you, the ability to use his powers for personal uses. i HC that Bi Han used to use his ice powers to play with his brothers when he was younger (around maybe 13 y/o, he stopped). only for you will he create little figures of ice and snow, only you will he emit a chill aura to soothe your bruises

- at this point too, Bi Han, definitely spends the entire day with you. at least, he tries to. he does have to cycle between the other champions to watch them spar, but any waking minute not used by the others, he'll always be right next to you

- i'd like to think Bi Han, when alone, paces around in circles to figure out what to do for you next. very methodical that man is, and intentional too

- after a couple more weeks, he's starting to push the boundaries he has on himself to ask you out. he tries to drop hints, but the way he does it basically gives it away

- things like "what is your favorite place to eat?" or "do you have a place to yourself to relax?" even a "do you like to [insert fun activity]?" he's not very good at asking things discreetly

- if Bi Han is good at anything, though, it's sincerity. he gifts you lovely courting gifts: flowers, hand-made gifts from the tradespeople of Arctika, scents- all the romantic jazz

- i think what really gets you is the practical gifts Bi Han gives you. once again, "to be loved is to be seen" dwells in his soul so fiercely it scares you how well he gives you things. from a pouch that holds all things and remains weightless, to a athletic wear that has pockets for your phone- he sees you

- when Bi Han eventually asks you out to become his girlfriend, he has a whole speech prepared for you. it's really cute, honestly, mainly because they sound like vows for a wedding (totally not pregaming yours and his wedding)

- and he speaks eloquently, softly, voice barely above a whisper as you zone in on his words. how he describes your beauty, what you make him feel, how madly in love he's been since he laid eyes on you

- "a pestering thought," he says. "though, one i do not mind, and one i would keep in my mind until my memory fails."

Bi Han doesn't do "love at first sight", but when he does, he falls hard...

and it's a hundred miles an hour at that point on

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hey guys! i'm not dead!

1. school sem is going good so far, 2. i went to a concert last weekend for NIKI! 3. long nails are hard to type in...

okay see yall in the next fic!