#not funny/good enough to finish but this was running through my head a while back.

[mizzmellos]

NO 1 RULE OF BEING A HATER IS HOPING JAKEY DIES!!!

[celandeline]

The Throne Was Meant For Us, My Dear

Aemond x Targaryen!Reader, mostly canon compliant (yes, people are still dying/getting maimed), heavy on the smut, incest (they are targaryens, obv), a little angst

9.5k words (buckle up)

You were born at the end of a long summer’s day, just as the last sliver of sun was sinking below the waves of the bay. Your sister was born on the same day, just after the sun had completely disappeared below the horizon. Twin Targaryen girls, Helaena and Jaenara, the second and third of Alicent Hightower’s children. 

The summer has always held a special place in your heart - not only because of your nameday, but because of the way the heat of the day lingers in the air long after the sun has set. The sound of a warm breeze as it rustles through the courtyard flowers, spreading the lovely floral scent. The feeling of the sun on your skin - the taste of fresh fruit grown outside the city. You’ve always loved the summer. You love it especially now, the only thing making this godforsaken funeral bearable. 

Next to you, Aegon snags two more glasses of wine from a passing serving girl, handing one to you with a limp wrist and a sigh. He downs half his glass in one long draught. “I don’t understand why Helaena.” He grumbles, gesturing to where she sits on the ground with his glass, the wine sloshing inside. “If I must marry at all, why not you?”

You take a long sip from your own glass, leaning back against the store railing overlooking the sea. Driftmark, while much more drab than the Red Keep, has one thing going for it - the pleasant smell of salt in the air, and the sound of the waves against the shore. “Our mother thinks that if we were to be wed, I would enable you.” You say. 

Aegon snorts, finishing off his drink. “As if Helaena will do anything to stop me from my hedonistic desires.” He jokes, quoting Alicent. “If it’s not to do with grasshoppers, it’s not to do with her.”

You neglect to snicker along with him, simply pressing your lips to the rim of your glass as you watch your dear sister pass a spider back and forth between her hands, muttering under her breath. She’s always been something of a dreamer, your Helaena, something the rest of your family doesn’t seem to notice. But you, always in tune to your sister from the moment you were born, know. Threads of omniscience run through her mutterings, though deciphering them sometimes is beyond you. 

“Some could say the same about you, with wine and whores.” You say, glancing knowingly at Aegon. “We all have our compulsions - some worse than others.”

“I only jest.” Aegon says, defensive. You can tell he’s getting drunker, his movements becoming more loose, his words louder. 

“Hm.” You finish your glass, setting the empty cup on the railing beside you. “Is it truly in jest if you are the only one laughing?”

“Perhaps it is better that I marry Helaena instead of you.” Aegon says, leaning close enough that you can smell the wine on his breath. “You do have a way of inciting my annoyance, Jaenara. No, I do not think you would make a good wife.”

You lean even closer, all too ready to play Aegon’s game. Your teeth scrape over his ear as you retort, “No, you’ve always liked the ones who won’t fight back, haven’t you?”

The tension breaks as Aegon laughs, tossing his head back as he steps away, putting a respectable amount of distance between you again. You chuckle as well, until another voice - softer, younger - cuts through your chortling. Aemond.

“What’s funny?”

Aegon, not subtle at all, rolls his eyes. “Nothing.”

“We were just discussing Aegon’s betrothal.” You say, shifting so that Aemond can lean against the railing beside you. You’ve never understood Aegon’s disdain for your baby brother - something your nephews seem to share. “Or rather,” You cast a joking look to Aegon. “Aegon was complaining about it.”

“‘Tis your duty.” Aemond says, ever so serious. 

Aegon rolls his eyes again, gesturing widely at Helaena. “Look at her.”

“Aegon-” You start.

“I would do my duty, if only mother had betrothed us.” Aemond retorts. 

Aegon flaps a hand. “The both of you.” He dismisses, eyes scanning through the thin crowd. “I’m going to get more wine.” And with that, he’s gone, sliding between chatting relatives in the wake of a serving girl, chasing after the wine she carries. 

You place a hand atop Aemond’s head with a sigh, gently carding it through the silky silver hair there. “He can be such an ass, our brother.”

Aemond looks up at you with a thin smile. “Mm.”

The blood on your hands is not yours, but your brothers, smeared across your forearms from when you’d clutched his face in your hands, holding closed the gash across his eye with your thumbs as the maester stitched the wound back together. Now, he smears tears and snot across the bodice of your gown, the good side of his face pressed against the thin fabric of your nightclothes as he clutches you with shaking hands. 

Your mother is screaming. Aegon is huddled against the wall of the room, no doubt already suffering a hangover from how much he drank. Helaena stands to your left, her eyes fixed on the wall behind the scene before her, gaze absent. You watch in horror as your mother wields a knife against Rhaenyra, spitting insults like venom. Ser Cole is pressed almost chest to chest with Daemon. Your little nephew, Lucerys’ face is bloodied. 

You have no idea what happened. But Aemond is missing an eye. And Vhagar is now his dragon, instead of Laena’s daughters. You knew - known, now - that his lack of a dragon had always been a sore spot for Aemond, but you never would have guessed that he would go to such drastic measures to claim a beast of his own. And Vhagar, no less. 

You expect him to cry, to whimper in pain, to react, but he just holds onto the gauzy fabric of your nightdress and keeps the unmarred side of his face pressed close to your chest. Hiding, almost. 

You soothe a hand down his back, pressing him closer. “It’ll be alright.” You say, your voice lost amongst the carrying on. It won’t be. He’ll be scarred forever, he’ll have to re-learn how to walk, how to write, how to do anything that requires vision. It’ll take him years to recover fully. 

“I know.” He says, voice soft. Level. Even. 

And it’s his calm reassurance that makes you believe your own words. It will be alright, one way or another. 

Hand in hand, you walk your brother through the halls of the Red Keep, towards the training yards, for his swordsmanship lessons. Servants and nobles alike avert their eyes as you pass, some out of respect, some out of disgust. It’s true - the scar across Aemond’s face is nothing delightful to look at, a motley of yellow and purple swollen skin, the scabs leaking pus. But you do not look away. He is your brother, and he receives enough torment from Aegon already. 

He clutches your hand tightly, holding it like a bannister as he puts one foot in front of the other, his good eye steadfastly looking ahead. Sometimes his balance sways (especially around turns or on the steps) but he’s getting better. “You’ll be able to come and go as you please again soon.” You say, not bothering to hide the pride in your tone. 

He scoffs. “I can’t stay a cripple forever.”

Aemond was never sweet. But the loss of his eye has only soured him more. You roll your eyes, teasing, “You’d do well to save your bitterness for someone who’s not capable of causing you to fall down the stairs at a moment's notice.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but he doesn’t laugh. “Apologies, sister.” He mumbles.

You sigh. “I only joke, Aemond.” Aegon has ruined him, picking at all of his insecurities without remorse until he bristles at the slightest hint of humor, thinking an insult is coming. 

His good eye shifts away from the hall in front of him for a moment to cast you a sidelong glance. 

“Not all of us are Aegon.” You insist, rounding the corner with him to step outside into the afternoon sunlight. Ser Cole is already waiting, whirling his sword from hand to hand idly as Aegon straps himself into his practice armor. Aemond lets go of your hand as soon as he sees Aegon, taking shaky steps onto the field proper, alone. 

Aegon pays him no mind, his gaze falling on you. “Jaenara. Come help me.”

“Your lack of manners is appalling.” You say, walking over to him anyway, taking the leather straps of his breastplate from him and tightening them over his shoulders. “What would mother say?”

Aegon just grins. “Meet me tonight.” He says, his voice dropping into a more conspiratorial register. He doesn’t have to say where - you’ve snuck out with him before. You know the route. “A traveling troupe has arrived in Flea Bottom, supposedly.”

“Sunset?” You ask, dropping your hands from the straps on his shoulders to the ones near his waist. 

“Mm.” He watches you work, still grinning. 

“Alright.” You say, stepping back. 

His grin widens into a smile as he twirls his sword. “What fun we’ll have.”

The sun has begun to light the sky when you stumble back into the Red Keep with Aegon, giggling under your hoods as you sneak past the white cloaks back to your chambers. Really, it can barely be called sneaking anymore - you know they see you return, you know they saw you leave. The only reason they don’t trail you through the streets of the city is because Alicent doesn’t know, and hasn’t ordered them to, so why do the extra work? 

You sway into Aegon’s shoulder as you walk, all the wine that you drank making your head spin. Taking you by the arm, he only makes it worse as he begins to waltz you down the hall, jauntily humming the same tune you’d been dancing to in a tavern earlier. Laughing like a fool, you tip your head back and let him dance you about, until he deposits you against the wall by your bedroom door, caging you in against the stone. 

You know he’s going to kiss you - he always does, at the end of the night. Gently, he presses his lips to yours, and you smile into it. He doesn’t kiss you like he kisses his whores - nor do you kiss him as you do yours. It’s a chaste thing, only a moment before you’re both pulling back to look at each other. 

“As sweet as wine.” He whispers.

“Mm.” You bite your lip in a grin. “Goodnight, Aegon.”

“Good morning.” He giggles, pushing away from the wall to stumble back to his own bed. 

You slip into your own room, dropping your cloak and dress from your shoulders, one after the other, as soon as you are inside. Just in your shift, you turn to flop into the soft comfort of your bed, only to see a lump under the covers that wasn’t there when you left. Slowly, you peel back the sheets to reveal Aemond, face pressed into your pillow, soundly asleep. 

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips as you climb into bed beside him, doing your best not to disturb his slumber. He stirs anyway though, good eye cracking open with a jolt, softening when he realizes it’s you. Extending an arm, you make space for him to curl up against your chest, and he does, tucking his face under your chin.

“You were with Aegon.” It’s mildly accusatory, but mostly sleepy.

“Mm.” You don’t deny it, stroking a hand through Aemond’s hair. “And you were here. In my bed.” You press your nose to the top of his head. “What troubles you, Aemond?”

“My eye.” He says. “The pain. It’s more than just the skin, it… it stabs me through the skull, sometimes. Makes it hard to fall asleep.”

“We will see the maesters in the morning.” You say, still gently stroking. “Perhaps they will be able to come up with some tincture to soothe you.”

He lets out a sleepy little hum, and settles more against you. Your own eyes flutter shut, and your stroking hand moves to wrap around his shoulders instead. It’s quiet, for a while, and for a moment you think he’s drifted off, but then,

“Will you take me with you, once?”

“To Flea Bottom?”

“Mm.”

You pause for a moment. “If you wish. Perhaps when you’re a bit older.”

“How old?”

“At least as old as I was when Aegon first took me with him.”

“And how old was that?”

You smile into his hair. “Give it a year.”

“Mm. Alright.”

The quality of Aemond’s eye improves drastically over the course of a year, so that by the time he dons his own cloak and takes to the streets of King’s Landing with you and Aegon, it almost blends into his face. The scar is a long pale thing that trails down his cheek, and the only part of the injury that escapes the eyepatch. Under the shadow of his hood, it’s barely noticeable. 

He trails a half-step after you and Aegon, clearly unsure. You don’t blame him, it’s quite a change from within the walls of the Red Keep, but an exhilarating one at that. Arm in arm, you and Aegon lead the way, moving smoothly through the crowds to one of your favorite haunts, a little brothel tucked away near the edge of the city. 

You can hear the sounds of pleasure emanating from within before you even step foot in the building, and the area around the door is crowded with hangers-on, men who can’t pay their whores dues. Aegon pushes through them all easily, and you glance back to make sure Aemond isn’t lost before following him inside. 

The place reeks of incense, barely covering the smells of sweat and sex, but it’s familiar to you. On instinct, your eyes scan the crowd of the main chamber, searching for your favorite whore, a beauty named Falyse with long lashes and plump lips. You can feel Aemond pull closer to you in the presence of such debauchery, and you glance down at him again, to find him already looking at you. 

“This is a brothel.” He says.

“Aye.” You grin, glancing at Aegon. 

Aegon smiles wide, clapping Aemond on the shoulder. “Tonight is the night that you become a man, brother! Your first taste of the best pleasure the world can offer.”

Catching sight of a familiar shock of black hair, you turn, meeting Falyse’s eyes through the throngs of men. “I must take my leave.” You say, petting Aemond’s head. “But you are in good hands with Aegon. And I won't be far.”

“Alright.” Aemond says. He’s still unsure, clearly, but there’s no time for hesitation once Aegon’s swept Aemond up in his frenzy. You slip away, weaving through the writhing bodies until you reach the other side of the room, where Falyse is pouring a glass of wine for another patron. She’s barely clothed, so you can feel the goosebumps that rise when you snake an arm around her middle and rest your chin on her shoulder. 

“Princess.” She greets you with a sultry purr. 

“My lady.” You return, laying your lips in the junction of her neck. “I’ve missed you so.” 

She’s quick to pull you away from the main room, behind a thick curtain to an empty bed. It’s a familiar dance that you do - she makes a show of ridding you of your clothes, running her soft hands up and down your body until you’re dripping. Then she lays her mouth on you - her wonderful mouth that could pull honey from even the most stalwart of noble women. She never lets you rest with only one peak, no she delights in working as many from you as she can, until you’re pushing her away. Then it’s your turn to return the favor, licking at her until her sweet moans fill the air and you can feel her clenching around your tongue. You’ve earned her devotion in that way - on more than one occasion, she’s confessed that no man has ever thought of her pleasure, on their own. 

“Well, I am no man.” You’d responded. 

It’s an exhausting affair, this dance, so it often ends with you curled around her on the bed, listening to her share the latest gossip of the smallfolk whilst you twist her hair into intricate braids, the kind only Targaryens wear, a sign she’s been with royalty. You’ve just finished your handiwork, laughing along to a story about the smallest cock she’s ever seen, when the curtains part, and Aemond slips into the room, clearly close to tears. 

Immediately you sit up, paying no mind to the fact that you’re completely bare. “What’s wrong?”

Holding back tears, he hesitates for a moment before climbing into your lap, pressing his face between your breasts with a shaky sigh. You clutch him to you, guilt and regret sinking into your heart. Too young. He’s always been more sensitive than you, or Aegon, you should have waited to include him in your revelry. Too young, too young. 

Falyse sits up as well, raising a questioning brow. You shake your head, and run your fingers down your brother’s back. For a while, the room is silent as Aemond’s breathing calms, and then he pulls his face away, sliding out of your lap to sit next to you instead. Looking down, he hides behind long curtains of hair, but not before you catch a glimpse of his expression. Shame.

Gently, you break the silence. “Aemond, this is my friend, Falyse. Falyse, my dear brother.”

Falyse smiles warmly, peering underneath Aemond’s hair. “A pleasure to meet you, my prince.”

“You must tell him what you were telling me.” You say. “Oh, it’s hilarious, Aemond, you must listen.”

He perks up slightly, as Falyse starts her story again - and she does get him to laugh, but the hurt doesn’t leave his eyes, and the guilt begins to pool in your stomach. 

The sapphire is weighty in the pocket of your gown, and bounces heavy against your leg as you rise from the dinner table, dipping your head towards your father before you take your leave, following your siblings out of the hall. Aemond’s nameday feast was a small affair, per request of the prince, and he only received books from both of your parents - leatherbound histories of Valyria that look entirely too large in his little arms as he carries them back to his bedroom. 

“Aemond.”

He turns at the sound of your voice, and you pluck one of the books from his hold, tucking it under your arm. With your other hand, you pull the sapphire from your pocket, and hold your closed fist out to him. “Here.”

Looking at you curiously, he holds out a hand, and you drop the sapphire into it. “A sapphire.” He says. 

“For your eye.” You explain. “I had the masons fashion it so that you can slide it into the socket. I thought it might suit you.” Jokingly, you add, “And perhaps improve your standing with the court ladies.”

He huffs out a little laugh, examining the gemstone with a careful eye. “Thank you Jaenara.”

You smile, reveling in the first laugh you’ve won from him in a very long time.

Ser Cole and Aemond behind you, you lead them through the streets of Flea Bottom in the early morning light. It feels like a bit of a betrayal, showing them all of Aegon’s usual haunts, but the situation is dire, and your brother needs to be found. Your father is dead, and it was his dying wish, your mother said, for Aegon to be king. 

The brothel looks different in the daylight, drab and empty. Gathering your skirts in one hand, you bound up the steps to the door and bang the heavy knocker twice on the wood. With any luck, you can get a hold of Falyse - if Aegon was here last night, she will let you know, free of charge. 

It is not Falyse that answers the door, but the brothel Madame, Sylvi. A familiar face to you, albeit one that you have not had the pleasure of knowing under more intimate circumstances. Her eyes scan over your face, and then Aemond and Cole behind you. Stooping into a short curtsy, she asks. “And what can I do for you, my lady?”

“I am looking for my brother.” You say. 

“He seems to be behind you-”

“My other brother. Aegon.” You clarify. “Was he here last night?”

“I’m afraid not.” She says. 

You turn back to face your companions. Cole sighs, glancing around the streets like he might spot Aegon passed out in the mud. Aemond’s eye is on the Madame, a mixture of contempt and something else stirring in his gaze. 

“Where else, then?” Cole asks. 

“I don’t know.” You wrack your mind, tracing through all of the taverns and brothels you frequent with your brother, all places that you’ve stopped before arriving here, all with the same result. “This was the last place I could think of.”

Cole swears under his breath. 

Aemond breezes back down the steps, his mouth set in a determined line. “He must be somewhere. Come, we will try the fighting pits next.”

You murmur your thanks to the Madame before following after Aemond and Cole, worry sinking into your gut. Leave it to Aegon to get swallowed up by the city when the realm needs him most. 

Meleys’ breath washes over you as you stare down the dragon’s maw, expecting to see the glow of fire any moment, signaling your end. There is no time for action - in the few seconds you would have before flame reached you, there is no way you could reach your own dragon, Vermithor, to have any hope of combatting Rhaenys. Instead, you grasp Helaena’s arm and try to ignore how your hands shake. 

Aemond steps in front of the both of you, obscuring your view of Rhaenys atop her dragon with one hand on his sword. As if something as feeble as that will do anything against a dragon. 

You wait, feeling your sister with whom you shared your mother’s womb tremble underneath your grasp. 

You wait, watching Aemond’s shoulders rise and fall with each breath in front of you.

You wait, watching as your mother steps in front of Aegon, one hand wrapped around his wrist like a vice. 

A tidal wave of relief floods through you as Rhaenys pulls at the reins, and Meleys backs off, slipping through the doors of the dragonpit just before they swing closed, casting the room into semi-darkness. Alive. You’re alive - as is Helaena, and Aemond and Aegon. All of you, alive. You watch your mother almost fall to her knees as the relief washes through her, and then you are wrapped up in Helaena’s arms as she crushes herself to your chest. You return the hug with vigor, your eyes finding Aemond’s over her shoulder. 

Alive. Alive. Alive.

Something is happening. They’ve been locked in the small council chamber even since Aemond returned from Storm’s End. It’s been hours since your brother dismounted Vhagar, soaked to the bone and looking more shaken than you’ve ever seen him. You have no idea what happened, or what’s being discussed. Now, more than ever, you curse not being born a man. 

Still, there is nothing to do but wait. 

So you do, steeping in the burning hot waters of Aemond’s bathtub, idly flipping with damp fingers through a series of poems you’d found in your great-grandfather Jaehaerys’s saddlebag when you’d claimed his dragon. Some of them you recognize as things he’d copied from other poets, some are his own musings about his wife, Alysanne. He wasn’t half bad, in your opinion. 

You snap the booklet closed as the door to the bathroom opens, and Aemond slips inside, still dressed in his soaked riding leathers. He stills when he lays eyes on you, obviously not expecting anyone to have been waiting for him. But you just smile, and set your book aside. 

“I had them draw a bath.” You say. “I figured you would want a soak, after flying in the rain. Scalding, of course.”

He smiles, and starts on the buttons of his overcoats, the fabric falling to the floor with a wet slap. His trousers are next, and then his eyepatch, set on top of your book before he slides into the bath behind you with a sigh, his head falling back against the edge of the tub. 

“Very thoughtful of you, sister.” He says, eye fluttering shut. 

“Mm.” You turn around in the tub, collecting a rag that you’d draped over the side and dipping it into the hot water, beginning to run it over his skin that isn’t submerged. For a moment, the only sounds are the echoes of droplets falling back into the tub as you wash him, until you speak again. “What business kept you in council so long?”

A tension settles in his jaw. “Lucerys Velaryon was also at Storm’s End.”

“You failed to win their allegiance?” You ask, surprised. 

“No. Lord Borros was easily won when I promised myself to one of his daughters.” You brother opens his eye. “But Lucerys is dead, at my hand.”

You set the rag aside, your mind spinning. Lucerys, dead. As if things weren’t already pointing towards all out war after your father changed his mind about the succession. “How?”

Something in his expression shifts and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to burst into tears. “Vhagar.” He says, his voice cracking slightly. “I only meant to scare him, but she knows my anger… I cannot pretend that I did not fantasize about killing him. I did not think that she would…” He swallows, collecting himself. “Our mother is less than pleased with me.”

“Our mother could never understand the bond between dragon and rider.” You say, consoling. You lay a hand gently on his face, over his scar, and run your thumb under the sapphire that sits in his eye. “You cannot be blamed for your anger at the boy who maimed you. Vhagar cannot be blamed for sharing that sentiment.” You pause. “It is a regrettable accident. And I am sorry for Rhaenyra and her children.”

He takes a shaky breath before wrapping his arms around your middle, and pressing his face into your shoulder, holding you to him as tightly as possible. Already wet from the bath, the few tears he sheds onto your skin make no difference. You say nothing, but pick up a comb from the short table beside the tub and begin to work it through his hair. 

You wake up to a sharp pain in the side of your neck, like the skin has been sliced open. One hand flies to the wound, and the other slips under your mattress, pulling the long dagger you keep there free of its sheath in a smooth motion. You sit up, the knife brandished before you, only to find your bedroom empty, the only motion being that of the curtains fluttering from the breeze of your open window. 

You pull your other hand away from your neck, expecting to see blood. Your palm is blank, the skin unmarred. In the reflection of your blade, you inspect your neck, only to find nothing. A phantom wound, perhaps from a dream. Anyone else would have simply gone back to sleep. But this is not the first time you and your sister have shared each other’s injuries. 

You rise quickly, knife still in hand as you dart from your chambers, heading down the hall at a quick clip. It’s eerily empty - not a white cloak in sight. Something is wrong, you’re sure of it, the echo of your footsteps on the stone only serving to further put you on edge as you approach the nursery. The door stands ajar, flickering candlelight seeping out into the hall from within. 

Slowly, carefully, you peer around the door. The room is empty - silent. The door creaks as you edge your way inside, turning to glance at the children’s beds. It is then that you see it - the headless body of your nephew, blood still seeping out of the stump of his neck into his bedsheets. Your blood runs ice cold, and then burning hot as rage fills you. Your gaze drops to the blood spatters on the floor, little droplets lead out into the hall. 

Readjusting your grip on your dagger, you break into a sprint, following the trail. 

Your bare feet slap in harsh rhythm against the stone, your eyes flicking back and forth from the floor to the hall in front of you as you follow the blood splatters. It is too late now. Jaehaerys is dead already, but you have to do something, you must. You can see candles being lit as you whip past door after door, the Keep slowly waking as the horror sets in, but you do not stop. 

You do not stop even when you turn an ankle as you round a corner, because there he is, a tall man in a hooded cloak, a burlap sack tightly clutched in his hand, blood dripping through the fibers. Stumbling, you push yourself back up with your hands, and with a mighty scream, leap at the mans back, knocking him forward. 

The bag tumbles to the ground, and Jaehaerys’ head rolls out, jaw slack and eyes wide. 

“The fuck-” The man growls, knocking you from his back. You fall to the ground, but force yourself to your feet again, diving forward, your dagger poised to strike. Bigger and stronger than you, he grabs your wrist, bending the bone until it snaps. Tears flood your vision as the pain washes over you, but you do not stop. Gritting your teeth, you drive your dagger into the soft skin of his side, between where his ribs end and his hips begin. 

He groans, releasing your wrist, and you leap at him again, clawing at his face as you sink your teeth into the side of his neck, biting as hard as you can. You can feel the blows he’s raining on you, but you hold on, savoring the taste of his blood as it floods your mouth, coppery and strong. His hands wrap around your broken wrist, and you wail again, your voice muffled by his skin in your mouth. 

But then there are hands around your waist, and the clank of armor fills your ears. Two white cloaks tackle the man to the ground as Aemond pulls you from his grasp, pressing your back to his chest. 

“Kill him!” You shout, eyes locked on the man as the guards beat him into submission before hauling him up to his feet. “Kill him!”

“Jaenara.” Aemond’s voice is low in your ear. “The maesters…”

You try to shake him off, but your brother doesn’t relent, gently steering you away from the guards and little Jaehaerys’ head on the floor, back into the relative calm of the halls. As the adrenaline fades, pain begins to wrack your body in waves, and you find yourself leaning against Aemond as tears fill your vision. 

“Helaena,” You gasp, chest heaving as sobs build up in your throat.

“With Cole, and our mother. Jaehaera, as well.” Aemond assures you. 

“They,” You say, working around the lump in your throat. “Put a knife. To her throat.” You bring your fingers up to the side of your neck, where the pain had awoken you. “Here.”

“I’m sure she’s being tended to.” He says. Gently, he pulls your arm up, inspecting your wrist, bent at an odd angle and already starting to swell. “We must tend to you too.”

Too exhausted to insist that there are more important things to be dealt with, you let him steer you along. 

You watch little Jaehaerys’ body bounce with the movement of the carriage in front of you, slightly obscured by the mourning veil you wear. Helaena sits beside you, pressed between you and your mother, eyes firmly pointed up at the sky. She’s empty, you can feel the echo of it in your own body, as you’re sure she can feel a hint of the festering anger you yourself are harboring. 

It will only be a matter of time now, before you don your armor and mount Vermithor for battle. You pity the fool who will fly to meet you. 

The wails of the smallfolk fill the city streets as you pass, petals filling the air as they toss handfuls at the carriages, shouting their grief in harmony. The news of Jaehaerys death had swept through the city like fire, just as your grandsire had suggested it would. Now, more than ever, the smallfolk hated Rhaenyra - there would be no public protest of the war that was brewing. 

But you cannot help but feel angered by the whole thing as your little nephew’s body shakes with the movement of the carriage in front of you. To be reduced to a martyr, at such a young age. And knowingly, by his own kin. It is an ugly, ugly thing. 

Helaena’s eyes finally drop from the sky, and your mother shifts, extending a hand to touch her arm. Helaena shrinks away instinctually, leaning further into you, and you shift, allowing her to press herself against your side, her head falling into the crook of your neck.

You do not need to speak to know what she is thinking. You rest a hand on the back of her head, and let her curl into you, feeling her heartbeat against your own. 

“Cole and I will cut them off entirely.” Aemond says, laying another marker on the map, over Rook’s Rest. “And with Rhaenyra confined to Dragonstone, it should be simple enough to take Harrenhal without interruption.”

You let your gaze sweep over the map, stopping at each marker Aemond had put down. “A clever plan.” You agree. “And Aegon also approves?”

Aemond scoffs at that, leaning back in his chair, the light from the fireplace dancing over his face. “What does it matter?”

“He is the king.” You say simply, lifting your gaze to look at your brother. “It is his war that we fight.”

“He is a figurehead.” Aemond says, rising from his seat to circle around the table, coming to stand behind you. “At the hands of our mother and grandsire. His only purpose is to lend them free reign.”

“He is our brother, and liege lord.” You say, standing from your own seat and turning to face him. “You speak treason, Aemond.”

“Mm.” Aemond hums, eye drifting over your face. “I forget, sometimes, that you are partial to him.”

“He is my brother.” You repeat. “And my Helaena is his wife.”

Silence permeates the room, and for a moment, the only sound is that of the crackling fire. But Aemond’s soft voice breaks through again. “Did you ever let him fuck you?”

The question takes you aback, and you laugh. “What?”

“In all your whoring together, did you ever let him fuck you?” He asks again, unwavering. 

“No.” You say. “I have no taste for his particular flavor of depravity.” Not that Aegon ever tried, either. That wasn’t - isn’t - the nature of your friendship. 

“Hm.” Aemond hums, turning back to the map sprawled across the table. “Vermithor will be needed to secure the Riverlands.” He continues, like the discussion never strayed from battle in the first place. He leans over the map, tracing a long finger over the stretch of the reach. 

“Of course.” You agree, confused. 

It’s been too long since you last did this. 

Wine flowing through your veins, you walk arm in arm with Aegon, leading the way to the old brothel, his friends and squire - the reason for the night - behind you. The crowd parts as you step through the brothel doors, a hush falling over the gathered patrons. The quiet only lasts for a moment before whispers take its place, hushed words about the king himself being a patron tonight. 

Aegon, of course, pays these whispers no mind, dropping your arm in favor of grasping his squire by the shoulders, speaking grandly about the pleasures of manhood. It makes you think of a similar night many years ago, when you’d brought Aemond to this very brothel. Guilt floods you for a moment, but is quickly quelled when soft hands wind over your shoulders, and a sultry voice whispers in your ears. 

“Princess.”

You turn, delighted to see Falyse - delighted enough, that with the wine already in you, you plant a wet kiss to her lips before resting your forehead against hers. “My sweet lady, my own heart.” You croon. “It has been far too long.”

She laughs, raspy and seductive, her eyes crinkling at the edges with her smile. “I did not know that all three of you would be joining us tonight.” She says, winding her arms about your shoulders. “Just like when you were younger.”

“Mm.” You find yourself agreeing before her words really register. “Wait, three? Is Aemond-?”

But it’s too late, you know it is as soon as Aegon’s raucous laughter booms through the room. You turn away from Falyse, finding your brother amidst the crowd, having abandoned his squire in favor of sinking next to Aemond on a bed, a wide grin crawling over his face. 

You can’t make out what he’s saying, but you can see Aemond shrinking in on himself, curling away from the Madame, who he’d been laying with. Winding Falyse’s hands away from your shoulders, you bring her knuckles to your lips, pressing a kiss there. “Another time, my lady.”

“Of course.” She says, understanding flashing across her gaze. 

You push through the gathered patrons towards your brothers, but Aemond meets you halfway, stalking through the crowd naked as the day he was born, clearly fuming. He pauses when his eye falls on you, clearly not having expected you to be here as well, and you watch his lip tremble ever so slightly. But he does not cry. 

“Aemond.” You say, unsure how to broach the subject. 

“Jaenara.” He returns, icy.

A pause stretches between you, and Aemond turns to leave, but you grab his arm, stopping him. “Come back home with me.” You say. 

You think he’ll spurn you, hiss some insult that’s more for Aegon than for you, but he sighs, “Fine.”

He does not speak to you until you stand at his bedroom door. You feel as though you should say something, apologize on Aegon’s behalf in some way, but you don’t get the chance before Aemond is beckoning you into his chambers with a quiet, “Come.”

You do, not realizing what he wants until the door is shut behind you and you’re pressed against it, your brother's lips pressing insistently into yours. You only hesitate for a moment before kissing him back, giving him what he wants. He melts into it, softening as he realizes that you won’t reject him, cradling you into his arms. 

When he pulls back, his voice is breathy. “I’m going to kill him.”

It sends a spike of fear through you, thinking of one brother killing the other, but the look in Aemond’s eye leaves no room for doubt. “I’m sure you will.”

Apparently the correct answer, Aemond resumes kissing you with a fervor, steering you away from the door and towards his bed. “I’ll kill him,” He says, rushed between kisses. “And without an heir, I’ll take his place.” His hair tickles the side of your face as he presses his nose into your neck. “Make you my queen, as he had Helaena.” He nips at the thin skin, making you hiss in pain, pulling at his hair. 

He lifts his head as he pushes you down onto his bed, crawling over you. “You’re betrothed to another.” You say as he begins to pull at the laces of your dress. 

“As are you.” He responds. You bat his hands away from the laces as soon as you hear fabric rip, and begin undoing them yourself. “Both empty promises made by our grandsire for armies.”

You shimmy out of your overdress, and kick it off the edge of the bed, left in your shift. Aemond strips himself of his shirt before tugging at the hem of your slip, urging you to take it off as well. Before long, you’re both naked, and he’s hovering over you again, trailing his nose along the swell of your breast. You take the opportunity to free him of his eyepatch, enjoying the glitter of the sapphire you gave him. 

His eye finds yours as he quietly asks, “Will you let me?”

As if you really even have a choice in the matter. “Yes.”

That’s all the permission he needs to lift your hips with one hand and slide his cock into you with the other. You wrinkle your nose as the sting of the stretch as he works himself into you, his eye fluttering shut. With a deep groan, he begins rocking himself in and out, grinding into you slowly. It’s not the most pleasure you’ve ever felt (no, he would be hard-pressed to compete with Falyse), but it isn’t unpleasant. 

You relax into the bed as he begins to fuck into you in earnest, whimpering to himself as he takes a breast in his mouth, lost in your body. You suppose you should have expected something like this, eventually. It was odd, that he’d asked if Aegon had ever fucked you, but you hadn’t thought that he himself wanted to. Now, his intentions in asking seem obvious.

He releases your breast with a pop before tucking his face against your neck, words trickling directly from his lips to your ear. “My Jaenara…” He moans. “Always so good to me. So kind, so sweet, so fierce. Hm.” He pants heavy, his hips knocking against yours frantically. “Seeing you covered in that mans blood, the chunk you ripped out of his neck with your teeth… my dragon.” He croons. 

You wind a hand into his hair, wincing as your wrist twinges in pain. It’s gotten better under the maester’s care, but it still complains when you move it in certain ways. The pain vanishes quickly though, and you begin to stroke Aemond’s hair just how he likes, pressing your lips to his temple. 

He whimpers again, almost like he’s in pain. “I will put us on the Iron Throne.” He swears, voice breathy. “Our dragons will burn Rhaenyra and her armies alive, and it will be our line that continues the tradition of our ancestors.” He all but growls it, snapping his hips with such force that you have to stop yourself from slamming into the headboard. “I swear it to you.”

“Aemond.” You gasp, overwhelmed with the vigor of his thrusts. The last thing you would have expected was for Aemond to get you to peak, but you can feel yourself getting closer, the combination of his rough fucking and devoted words stirring your insides. 

“Tell me that you are mine.” He says, demanding and begging at the same time. You can feel him losing his rhythm, pleasure no doubt creeping up on him the same as it is for you. 

“I’m yours.” You swear. “I’m yours, Aemond.”

He whimpers, and it’s the whining sound that sends you over the edge, your body tensing in his hold as you clench around him. With a loud gasp, you come, and Aemond’s thrusts reach breakneck speed. 

“You’re mine.” He whispers in your ear. “Mine, mine-” He comes with a rough groan, pressing his hips to yours and holding them there. He sinks into you immediately, collapsing onto your chest, his breath coming in pants against your skin. 

You bask in the quiet of his room as his cock softens within you, mind spinning as you take in what just happened. “Did you mean it? All that you said?” You ask softly, stroking his hair again. 

“Mm.” He affirms, sleep heavy in his voice. 

You say no more as he drifts off to sleep on your chest, cock still inside you. He intends to make you his queen. To kill Aegon and take his place. 

You love Aegon, you do. He is your brother, and one of your closest friends. But you would be lying if you said he was a good king. Perhaps it would not be so bad, if Aemond were to take his place, especially with you at his side. 

But does Aegon really deserve to die?

Aemond is insatiable now that he knows you won’t spurn his advances. You can’t say that you mind too much. 

Your elbows resting on the table before you, he takes you from behind as you both pore over a map of Westeros, markers indicating where your forces lay. A letter from Ser Cole sits open on the table beside you, informing Aemond of his most recent conquest as he nears Rook’s Rest. You run your fingers against the wood of the table, moving pieces along the map like chess, the sounds of Aemond’s breathy groans and the rustle of your skirts shifting as he takes you the only sounds in the room. 

“You will have to - ah - take flight on Vhagar soon then, if you are to meet Cole at Rook’s Rest.” You say. 

“Hm.” Aemond’s hips smack into yours as he leans over your back, moving the piece that symbolizes Vhagar to the edge of the crownlands. “The conquest should not take more than a day. Any longer and I would send Aegon in my stead - I would be loathe to leave you.” He jokes, pressing his nose against your neck. 

“Mm.” You hum, letting him stretch you further across the table and angle your hips to better receive his thrusts. Planting his hands on your hips, he pulls you back to meet each snap of his hips, the map forgotten as he pleasures himself with your body. There’s something intoxicating about his unwavering devotion, something rewarding. It feels like all the time you spent comforting him as a child is paying off; after all, he intends to put you on the throne. You wind a hand behind you to caress his cheek. 

He melts into the touch, extending his body over your back, pressing himself to you completely. It’s intoxicating, the power you have over him. The simplest of touches, the softest of words, and the most fearsome dragon rider in the world bends completely to your will. 

“You must tell Aegon of your plans.” You say, laying your head down on the table to peer at the man behind you. 

“He will no doubt find out on his own.” Aemond says. “Either way, they don’t involve him. Rook’s Rest is nothing Cole and I cannot take on our own.”

“And if someone were to show you the same insolence if you were the king?” You retort, biting back a gasp as his thrusts increase pace. 

“When.” He corrects, almost growling. “When I am the king. And I would exile them for such an insult.”

“Yet- mm, Aemond, ah - you do not fear such retribution from Aegon.” You say. You know he’s getting close, his soft pants turning into longer whines, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. You clench as tightly as you can, reveling in the breathy moan you pull from him as he stills, hips still pressed against yours, spent. 

You feel him make himself comfortable against your back, not bothering to pull away just yet. “Our brother is a fool, not fit for the duties of the crown. How can one be expected to respect such an undeserving monarch? No,” He says, pressing open-mouthed kisses onto any patch of your skin he can reach. “We will be much greater.”

It’s treason, even just entertaining thoughts of taking the throne from the rightful king, but the more Aemond speaks of it, the more you find yourself indulging in the fantasy. Never before did you truly consider what it would be to be queen, but after truly thinking about it, you find yourself enchanted with the idea. With anyone else, you have no doubt that you would have been subjected to the life your mother lived, but as Aemond’s queen, you would have more power than any woman before you. 

“You sound so sure already.” You tease, pushing yourself up on your elbows as he slips away, tucking himself back into his trousers and pulls your skirts back down over your legs. 

“That is because I am.”

Aegon presses his face into his hands, groaning. While he’s not looking, you slide the wine decanter away from him. Full when you sat down, it’s almost empty now, most of the contents having been poured down the kings throat. He’s been drinking more, in the aftermath of little Jaehaerys’ death. You can’t blame him, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t concerning. 

“They plot behind my back.” He says, his face still hidden in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. “Aemond. My own hand - and our mother, she…” He trails off. “They mock me. Think me an idiot. I cannot…” He reaches for the decanter, only to find it missing, and lifts his head out of his hands. “My wine.”

“Perhaps you’ve had enough.” You say, doing your best to be firm. 

He looks at you blankly before gesturing for the decanter again. With a sigh, you fold, sliding the container across the table to him. Let him drink himself to death if he wishes - it would be a better end than whatever Aemond is planning. 

It’s hard to look at Aegon, knowing that your other brother is plotting his demise. He doesn’t deserve to die, not after all he’s been through. Sometimes, you think you know Aegon better than yourself. You’ve seen him at his drunkest, in the streets of Flea Bottom, at his most desperate before his coronation, at his lowest, after the death of his son. He never asked for any of this. He never asked to be king. He doesn’t deserve to die because of a crown he never desired. 

But one cannot simply resign from the throne. 

You watch as Aegon empties the rest of the decanter into his glass, and then misses the table as he sets the pitcher down, shards shattering across the tiled floor. He stares down at the floor, eyes blank. “Ah.”

“Aegon.” You groan. 

He flaps his hand. “Someone will clean it up. Someone always does.”

“Perhaps it is behavior such as this that deters Cole and Aemond from sharing their plans with you.” You say, utterly annoyed at your brother’s actions. 

Aegon scoffs. “As if you weren’t also kept in the dark.” His eyes lazily slide to yours, and you don’t look away quickly enough, it seems, because he catches it in your gaze. “They told you? And not me, their king?”

“I cannot help that our brother seeks my opinion on such matters.” You say. 

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Aegon demands, angrily rising from his seat to level an accusatory finger at you. “You are supposed to be my closest confidant, I expect you to be on my side-!” He cuts himself off. “But no. Of course not. As soon as Aemond gets his claws into you you’re just like the rest of them.”

“Aegon,” You try, placating. “I meant no offense. In fact, I urged Aemond to tell you himself-”

“No, no, you cannot fool me again! I am not as stupid as you think me to be, I am not.” He shouts, harshly backing away from the table as you rise from your seat. There’s an anger in his eyes that you’ve never seen directed at you before, and it gives you pause, guilt and shame sinking into the pit of your stomach. What were you thinking, going behind his back like this? He is your brother, one of your closest friends, your king. Curse Aemond and all his sickly sweet words. 

“Aegon-”

A loose hand thrown up in the air, he silences you with a harsh glance before stalking out of the room, leaving you alone with the shattered pieces of the decanter for company. 

Aegon returns to you on a litter, melted into his armor by dragonfire, barely conscious. The smell of charred flesh and dragon blood fills the hall as the kingsguard rush him to the maesters, and you press yourself as far into the wall as you can to let them pass. There is no rage in you, only shock and despair. You had not thought it would be so soon, that Aemond had his revenge. 

“Jaenara.”

You turn at the sound of his voice, and he stops in front of you, pulling off his riding gloves and tucking them into the pocket of his leathers. There’s an energy about him that you haven’t seen before. Leftover adrenaline crackles over his skin, the pupil of his good eye blown wide, almost lustful. 

“What have you done?” You demand, cringing at the frightened quality of your voice. 

“What I planned to do.” He says, taking you by the arm. “Are you not delighted? Aegon is indisposed, he will be crippled for the rest of his life - however many short years he has left, in this state. None will stand in our way.”

“I…” You aren’t sure how you feel. Aegon isn’t dead, but he will be in incredible pain for the rest of his life. Likely, he won’t be able to walk on his own, or ever ride his dragon again. It is an awful fate for someone you love. But you cannot pretend a part of you - the same part seduced by Aemond’s ambition - isn’t elated at the downfall of the king. 

“Come.” Aemond says, tugging you away from your palace pressed against the rough hewn stone of the Keep walls. You fall into pace beside him, stumbling over your own feet as you process how reality is shifting around you at this very moment. Aemond and the council will have to speak on Aegon’s behalf, puppeteering him even more so than before. You are one step closer to ascending the throne. Your brother is half-alive, melted into the armor of his namesake. 

You don’t realize where you are until Aemond is pushing you down onto his bed with one hand and rucking your skirts up around your waist with the other. He does not wait for you to react before he scoops your hips up to insert himself into you, groaning in relief as he slides home. “My queen.” He gasps throatily, pillowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Have I pleased you?”

“Mm.” You hum, unable to say the words ‘yes, of course’. It proves to be enough though, for Aemond sighs again, slowly beginning to grind his hips against yours. It’s more fervent than his usual fucking, spurred on by the bloody battle he’s just come from. You can smell the smoke in his hair from where it lays across your face. 

“It will not be long now,” He says, breathy and rough. “Soon, you and I will sit the throne. Have our own heirs - will you give me an heir?” He asks. “Will you give me more than one?”

“As many as you’d like.” You choke out. There isn’t another option for you now, not with Aemond so intent on having you by his side when he takes his place as king. As you’re sure he will. 

“We will put Jaehaerys and Alysanne to shame.” He declares, placing his hands under the small of your back, causing you to arch against him. Holding the tops of your hips, he fucks you against him feverishly. It does not take long for him to finish, already keyed up on the high of his plans coming to fruition. 

He collapses against your chest with a heavy sigh, and instinctually, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“I love you.” He whispers against your skin. 

It’s the first time he’s said the words aloud, though you’ve known it for a very long time. Of course Aemond loves you. 

“As I, you.” You return. 

What you can’t decide, is if you feel the same.

[archangeldyke-all]

more blue collar sevika and housewife reader PUHLEASE ANGEL 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

i'm tapping my fingers together like an evil villian rn heheheehe

men and minors dni

in your house, the weekends are sacred.

sevika works long, hard hours, in rain, snow, or shine. she's up before the sun, and she's usually out like a light before ten.

but on the weekends? sevika doesn't have to do any of that.

so, on the weekends, you wake up before the sun, before carefully sneaking out of bed to pull the blackout curtains down. you leave sevika to sleep for as long as she can, while you work around the house. you usually manage to run some errands, finish the chores, and make sevika a nice, big breakfast before she comes stumbling out of the bedroom.

"goodmorning, love." you giggle at the sight of your wife. her hair is standing straight up on the back of her head.

"mmph." sevika grunts, walking over to wrap you in a hug. you sigh happily, pulling her tight against you, slowly working your fingers through her bedhead while she wakes up on your shoulder.

from there, the morning moves slow. usually, sevika will make you drag all the food to bed so you can eat in each other's arms. it's the one time a week you allow the pair of you to eat in bed-- the sheets will be ruined by the end of the day anyways.

you'll exchange kisses, watch movies, read and nap. and then, when sevika's really relaxed, you'll shove sevika onto her front and straddle her waist, shoving her shirt up and lathering her back in massage oil.

and as hot as all the grunts and groans and 'fuck right there's she lets out are; you usually manage to stay focused on your task. your wife really needs a massage, and you've got all day to make her moan some more.

you've gotten pretty good at giving a massage over your years with sevika. most times, she's alseep by the end, drooling into her pillow.

you don't bother to wipe up the excess oil before laying down beside her. you'll just ruin the sheets later today, anyways.

when you wake up again, mid afternoon, sevika turns on her side and flashes you a cocky smirk.

"what's that look for?" you giggle.

"lemme take you out for dinner?" she asks.

"how spontaneous." you deadpan. you do this every weekend. sevika darts forward to kiss you, and then the pair of you clamber out of bed to get ready for your date night. you take your sweet time getting dressed (sevika trying to match her outfit to yours) dancing, kissing, and giggling together.

date activities vary from picnics in the park to restaurants expensive enough they have a valet. the few common threads between all your dates are: a shared bottle of wine, footsie at any opportunity, and the two of you ending the night making out like teenagers on the hood of sevika's truck.

"you spoil me, you know." sevika mumbles on the ride home, her intertwined with yours on the center console. you chuckle.

"awfully funny coming from the breadwinner... and the woman who paid for dinner." you tease.

sevika pulls your hand up to kiss your knuckles. "you make our meals, and you keep our house clean and functioning, and you do all the groceries and errands, and then, on top of all of that, you manage to spoil me with breakfast in bed and massages and make out sessions."

you grin. "just wait 'til we get home and i get my hands on you."

sevika grins and when she pulls to a stop at a red light, she pulls you in for a nasty, passionate kiss.

the light turns green. neither of you notice. somebody honks. you break apart with guilty giggles.

when you get home, you ruin the sheets.

(and after, you drag sevika into the shower, soak her in steam until she's half asleep, then pull her into a freshly made bed to start the whole thing over again tomorrow.)

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @greenhazes @dvrkhcld

@sweetybuzz25 @sluttysierraaa

[ohdeerfully]

hiii! this is my first request on tumblr but i jus love alastor sm and there is NOT enough fics for me out there. so im asking u❤️

what abt alastor being jealous of someone else in the hotel? for example: angel dust, he puts on music and you two are dancing with eachother happily not noticing the red eyed demon with a tight grin. 🥰

Hii! Honestly after writing this I realized I didn't follow the prompt exactly, less jealousy and more Alastor being overprotective. Oh well! Hope you like it anyway :D!

Be Back Soon (i)

alastor x reader (fluff? alastor is just overprotective) part i TW: Cursing/Angel existing if you want tagged in the next part, lmk! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

Your fingers dragged down the skin around your eyes as you let out a long sight, sitting at Husk’s bar with shoulders propped on the cold counter. What a day it had been, running around in the typical chaos of the hotel as Charlie tried to get some group bonding activities finished. It was getting late, and you just finally had a moment of peace.

“‘Ey, toots!” The chipper voice broke your peace and you couldn’t help it when another audible sigh escaped you. The culprit of the broken science paid no mind.

Turning your head, you narrowed your eyes and made eye contact with the lanky pink spider. You were a little salty at him in particular, being one of the main catalysts to the everyday insanity. He had an easy grin played upon his lips as he stared back down at you with his multicolored eyes, one pair of arms on his hips that jutted out a little too unnaturally in a mischievous pose. His golden tooth glinted under his light grin with a similar air of “hey I’m up to no good right now.”

“You look fuckin’ tired!” He barked a laugh, dramatically squeezing his eyes shut in a theatrical show of laughing in your face. It really wasn’t that funny, and you couldn’t stop the frown that touched your lips as you watched him. He took pride in being the way he was. Annoying.

“No thanks to you, Angel,” You clipped back. You turned your head to watch Husk, who was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. He had become an expert in ignoring the spider demon’s presence, which was how he managed to stay sane with said demon’s constant flirting and sexual nature.

“Anyway,” He waves away your targeted words with a wave of his hands as his eyes roll up. “I was thinkin’ we get outta here for the night? Me and Cherri were gonna have a “girl’s night.”” You briefly thought about the humor in Angel admitting to being ‘one of the girls,’ but pushed the thought away to consider his invitation. “It wouldn’t hurt ta get some fresh air. This place is real stuffy sometimes, and a huge snooze fest,” he persuaded. He rested his face on one pair of hands, fingers laced under his chin, as he leaned against the bartop in anticipation for your answer.

You purse your lips in thought. It wouldn’t hurt, right? You didn’t go out clubbing a lot, and with Angel and Cherri with you surely nothing wrong would happen. They looked out for their friends, and you would (maybe regretfully) consider yourself Angel’s friend. You glanced at Husk for a moment, as if looking for advice, but his eyes remained close and his lips had an annoyed curl. Maybe you should get out of his hair.

“Okay, okay,” You grinned, a little sheepishly. While you couldn’t really consider ‘fresh air’ to be a feature of Hell, you agreed that you needed to just Get Out of this place. Running errands for Charlie got mundane, even with all the strange characters that cycled through the place. One tends to get used to the chaos.

Angel stretched his arms up in a cheer, which earned a one-eyed, aggravated look from Husk. He uttered something under his breath before grabbing a bottle and walking to the other corner.

“Alright, sweet lips,” Angel cooed at you. “Let's get you dressed! You got anything decent up in your closet?”

Your hand found its way to the back of your neck as you answered sheepishly, “Eh, not really… At least, not for a night out. I don’t really do much outside of the Hotel.” Angel frowned at the response, tapping his chin in thought.

“Lemme take a look,” With a swipe of his arm, your hand was suddenly being held as he dragged you up the steps toward the floor of your room.

Walking down at the same time, you briskly passed by Alastor, who had his eyes closed and a hum in his mouth. His blazing red eyes peered open as you and Angel rushed past him, a quizzical furrow in his brow seeing the connection between your hands. You shot him a shy grin and craned your head back to shout a quick ‘I’ll explain in a minute,’ before you disappeared around the bend of the stairs.

You didn’t miss the dark gleam in his eyes.

Angel, in an attempt to dramatically burst through your door, slammed full body into the entrance. “Ah- the hell?” He cried, roughly jiggling the handle.

“I keep it locked,” you snickered at him and the disheveled look in his usually preened hair. You saw him take his hands to brush it out as you fiddled with the lock, an annoyed mutter of words escaping his lips. The second the door clicked, Angel shoved past you and reattempted his dramatic burst through the entrance with a bit more luck this time around.

He went straight for your closer, rummaging through this and that. What a breach of privacy, this guy is, you thought with a strained smile as you stepped up next to him to try to guide him through your very Ordinary and Plain clothes.

You felt a prickling sensation on your skin, and you swear you heard a frequency of low static, but when you whipped your head around nothing stood there. Did that shadow just move?

Shaking your head, you looked at the piece Angel held proudly in his hands, one pair of arms gripping the top and the second pair pulling the bottom out to really get a full inspection.

It was incredibly simple, but still a bit more revealing than anything you were used to wearing. A deep red top, so cropped it may as well be a sporty bra, with a couple eye-catching accents of rhinestones. Connected with thin straps was a similarly tight pair of booty shorts. Your face flushed at the thought of wearing this. It was practically lingerie.

“Isn’t it a bit, uh, tacky?” You tried in an attempt to dissuade him from this getup. He acted offended, one hand going and pressing against his fluffed chest. You didn’t miss the way he took this as an opportunity and pressed up against himself to perk up his mass of chest fur.

“Babe, I wear shit like this all the time! You tellin’ me,” He started a rant, shaking the clothes in a fit of mock rage. “You tellin’ me I’m tacky? Hah! Me! Angel Dust!” He wiped away a fake tear in his laughter.

Your face flushed again looking at the getup. With a defeated mutter you swiped it from his hands and trekked painfully slowly to the restroom. You ignored Angel’s urgency for you to ‘hurry the hell up’ because it was almost time to get going.

You slowly stripped yourself of your day clothes, gingerly stepping through the tight shorts and tucking your arms through the straps of the top. You didn’t even remember buying this thing, it had been stuffed far in the back of your closet. You couldn’t help the feeling of dread thinking about the other embarrassing things Angel might have seen in there. Though, you doubt anything could phase that guy.

You had to admit, looking at your reflection, that it did accentuate your curves, even if you didn’t have much to begin with. The rhinestone accents glittered in the bathroom light, obviously designed in a way to bring attention to the chest. The straps that connect the two pieces fit snugly against your exposed torso. You were suddenly glad Hell never got that cold.

“Almost ready!” You snapped at Angel calling from the other side of the door. You quickly threw on some touches of makeup, trying your best to compliment the shades of your outfit and adding some glittery makeup around your eyes. You quickly dragged your fingers through your hair to style it comfortably.

You ripped open your door just as fists started banging on it. Angel stood there with two arms raised, stopped midair to keep himself from decking you in the head. You glared up at him, trying to maintain your earlier sourness to hide the fact that the outfit had grown on you.

“Hey, sexy lady!” Angel teasingly leaned himself against the doorframe with a smirk. “Let’s fuckin’ go! You took too damn long! Cherri hates waitin’.”

Grabbing your hand again, he ushered you out of the room. As you raced down the stairs, you tried to continuously preen your hair to keep it from flying out of shape as Angel practically drug you down each step.

He slowed at the bottom, releasing your hand, and stepping towards Husk’s bar to aggravate and flirt with the cat one last time before heading out. You tuned out his sexual innuendoes as you tried to glance over yourself one last time.

“My, what a dame you are!” Alastor’s recognizably radio-afflicted voice ripped your attention away from picking at a loose rhinestone. He stood over you, a slight bend in his waist and an unnatural crane in his neck. His smile was there, but tight and uneasily wide as he examined you through squinted eyes. He leaned his weight against his cane.

Swallowing your unease, you examined his expression. You knew Alastor didn’t care for such… promiscuous outfits. Especially on what he considered his. You knew his compliment was satirical, and you didn’t miss that glint of anger flash through his expression.

“Heyy, Al,” You drew out your words, unintentionally accentuating the awkward tone between the two of you. He paid no mind, keeping up that seemingly cheerful grin of his as he just… stared at you. His fingers tapped impatiently on the radio of his cane, each tap bringing a warp to the frequency that always surrounded him. “I’m going out with Angel tonight. Y’know… to get some air…”

“My dear,” His eyes closed in a laugh and he straightened himself out. “Why would you ever go out there for fresh air? Now, you know those demons would just eat you right up.” A dark sneer infected his smile, lips curling and exposing the line of his black gums.

“‘Ey c’mon, Smiles,” Angel stepped up next to you and lazily threw an arm over your shoulder. You saw that sneer only deepen as Alastor watched the spider get way too close to you. “Give ‘er a break! She’s always runnin’ around doin’ shit for this bum-ass hotel! It makes her… boring!” 

You didn’t know whether or not to appreciate Angel both defending and insulting you. You decided to just ignore his comments as you watched Alastor’s expression get darker and more sinister. You felt a cold sweat prickle at your neck as that static-y frequency of his became more prominent and aggressive as his eyes swept over the two of you, lingering on your exposed abdomen with a frustrated twitch in his brow.

“Why, of course!” He suddenly cheered, brandishing his hands to his side in a slight bow. “But…” He stepped towards you, looming over you. You felt that nervous tickle again. His right hand raised and, with a quick motion, a fairly modest jacket materialized around your shoulders. “All better! Wouldn’t want greedy eyes seeing what’s mine!”

How bold, you thought. He was from the ‘30s, though, and very old fashioned. It made sense that immodest wear bothered him. Plus, you looked down at the jacket. It had a similar color scheme, and was light enough to not be too warm. At least it goes with my outfit. How sweet.

You felt a bit giddy at the permission Alastor had given you–not that you needed it. (You did). You’re a grown ass adult. (It doesn’t matter). You shot him a smile of thanks before dashing out the door, meeting Cherri who had been frequently laying on the car horn for you to Hurry the Fuck Up.

Before Angel Dust could follow, a tight grip on one of his wrists stopped him in his tracks. He hissed, yanking his arm but to no avail. Alastor’s grab was like iron, and his nails began to dig into Angel’s skin.

“Hey you fuck, let me go! I gotta get out there before Cherri starts blowin’ this shit up!”

Alastor pulled Angel in closer, a sneer-like grin crossing his expression. There was a maddening look in his glowing red eyes.

“If she comes home with even the smallest scrape,” He said in a low tone, the garble of his radio slightly distorting his voice. “I’m going to make you wish you never came to this Hazbin Hotel.”

Alastor’s grip didn’t yield as Angel tried again in a futile attempt to release himself. He had a nervous laugh in his voice as he tried to act unintimidated by the Radio Demon’s threat.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, you creepy red fuck,” He gruffed back, “Me an’ Cherri will stick right by her. You don’t gotta worry about nothin’.” Alastor’s expression shifted in an instant, his cheerful grin reappearing. He stood up straight and smiled down at Angel. “Good man! Now, don’t be too long,” He shooed Angel out of the lobby, who was more than glad to get the fuck out of there. He heard a faint ‘I’ll be watching’ from behind as he slammed the car door shut, muttering curses under his breath.

He knew Alastor would send that damn shadow of his to keep a close eye, so why the fuck did Angel have to babysit you in the first place? Plus, you weren’t some weak, naive fool. Whatever. He knew Alastor would take any excuse to cause some entertaining mayhem.

He sighed as he looked at you, who had a nervous but excited grin as Cherri rambled and cursed about something.

Maybe he shouldn’t have invited you out. He knew he was in for a long, stressful night. Good thing there would be a bar.

[magewritesstories]

[ ᴊᴇꜱꜱ ᴍᴀʀɪᴀɴᴏ ] ʜɪꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴀᴛ ɪᴛꜱᴇʟꜰ

summary: jess moves back to stars hollow to open a new branch of truncheon books in his hometown, and tries not to murder the girl living in the apartment above him and the town enjoys watching another grumpy business owner fall in love with a bubbly inn manager. TW: none note: in love with him and not even in a funny way, i need a jess

“Are you sure this is the place you want?” Andrew asked for what felt like the millionth time. The bookstore owner gave the 25-year-old a nervous stare as he signed the last few papers.

“Yes, Andrew, for the millionth time, this is the place.” Jess sighed, he couldn’t blame the man for his hesitance, he hadn’t exactly left a good impression on the people of Stars Hollow while living there.

Out of all the places he’d imagined settling down, Stars Hollow, Connecticut was incredibly low on the list. 

But he couldn’t deny the fact that it was a good commerce town, people passed through on business or on their way to Hartford all the time. So when his friends asked him where they should open a new branch of their bookstore, it was the first place he thought of.

Once all the paperwork was finished, Jess had spent the week driving back-and-forth from Philadelphia to Stars Hollow and everything was finally done. 

Andrew took papers, “Okay, I’ll get these to Kirk—” He moved to grab his bags— “Have you met Y/N yet?”

Jess shook his head, Y/N the mysterious person that lived in the apartment above the bookstore, “Nope, haven’t run into her yet.” Andrew nodded, “Well, I better get going.”

Once the older man had left, Jess turned to the bookstore. There were cardboard boxes everywhere, and all the bookshelves had been emptied along with the walls, where the hanging bookshelves had made place for paintings.

Jess started to unload the first box of books when Luke walked in, with you tailing behind him.

“Oh come on, don’t lie,” You insisted, “It is so a different brand.”

The older man sighed, maneuvering his way through the mounds of boxes. “Y/N, for the last time: I’ve been using the same brand of coffee for the past twenty years.”

You crossed your arms, “Liar, I know you did something different with it.”

“Well fine, you got me, I put drugs in yours hoping they would shut you up,” Luke deadpanned, handing Jess a paper bag, “Here’s your lunch.”

You turned to him as well, “Oh, you must be Jess!” You exclaimed excitedly, “I’m Y/N, I live upstairs.”

You stretched out your hand for him to shake. Jess stared at you, it was 9 in the morning, how were you so upbeat already?

“This is the part where you take my hand and tell me it’s nice to meet me,” You whisper jokingly. “Jess Mariano,” He replied, shaking your hand as you give him a bright smile.

“Don’t you have places to be?” Luke questioned, staring at you. You raise an eyebrow at him, “What’re you talking about?”

The older man sighed exasperatedly, “The Inn.” Your E/C went wide in realisation, “Michel’s going to kill me!”

Without another word, you ran towards the door, almost tripping over a box of paintings on your way out, “Sorry!” You excused, and quite frankly Jess wasn’t sure if you were talking to the box or him.

“Wow,” He breathed as he watched you made your way down the street, only to stop halfway to pet Babette’s cat before resuming your run.

Luke nodded, a small smile on his face, “Yeah, that girl’s a storm with skin,” He replied, “So, you need any help with these boxes?”

Jess groaned as Voulez-Vous played loudly upstairs. He couldn’t say anything about it yet, though, per Stars Hollow rules you were allowed to play music as loud as you wanted to until 10 PM.

When Toxic started playing he had enough. He made his way up the creaky stairs. You’d left your door open, and Jess took it as a sign to go inside. 

You were standing on your couch, singing along to the song, using your spatula as a mic. Jess watched you jump off and spin around, before finally coming to a halt in front of him.

“Oh, Jess, hi!” You grinned, not even slightly flustered, “Can I help you?” 

“Yes, you can, by turning that god awful music down.”

Your eyes went wide, “Shit, is it ten already?” He shook his head, “No, you just have bad taste in music.”

You laughed, “Right, you’re the kind of guy that listens exclusively to Metallica and Iron Maiden,” You teased, “Hey, I’m making cookies, you want some?  They’re almost done.”

“What I want is for you to turn down the music,” He deadpanned, arms crossed over his chest. You shrugged, “‘Kay, Roommate.” You reached for the stereo and turned down the music.

“Are you my roommate, ‘cause you’re not the landlord, you rent the place too, but you don’t sleep here— or your not supposed to, I’ve seen you sleeping on the couch— but your not my neighbour either,” You rambled, smiling at him.

“Just keep the music down,” He grumbled, “And if you have to play it at max volume, play some decent music.”

An hour after your little encounter, you came skipping down the steps, a plate of cookies in hand. “You never told me whether you wanted the cookies or not,” You said, putting the plate down, “So I brought them anyway.”

The black-haired man stared between the plate of cookies and your bright smile in confusion. Finally he rolled his chair away from the desk and grabbed something out of the drawer near him.

“Here,” He said, handing you a CD he’d burned himself, “Some acceptable music I think you’d like.”

You inspected the plastic case and grinned, “Thank you.” With one last sunbeam of a smile you turned around and practically skipped up the steps to you apartement.

[thewayitalknj]

Since a few of you kindly asked for a Part 2, here you go! Thanks for the love!

Warnings - reader feels a bit insecure for a split second! Word Count - 2.6k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You stare at him, cold blooded. So he did figure it out? You shut the door behind you and reach for the silk robe hanging on the back of the door. 

“Aw come on don’t cover up because it’s me-”

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing here?” 

He makes a silly dance move, trying to be funny but definitely not helping. “What do you mean? I came for a private dance.” 

You finish tying a bow and cross your arms. “How did you know I work here?”

He gets up and walks towards you. He moves your robe off to the side and points to your birthmark. “This. I noticed it while you were dancing.”

You sigh and look back up at him. He stifles a laugh, “Ed, this isn’t funny.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a fucking dancer?”

“Oh yeah, because that’s a great conversation starter-” You notice him looking you up and down. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like I’m hot or…some shit.”

“Well, I mean-”

“Look, I get off at midnight. We can go back to my place to chat afterwards if you want. But for now, you can hang in the dressing room. We won’t be back there until we close up anyway.” You open up the door and motion for Eddie to leave.

“...does this mean I don’t get a private dance?” You give him a stern look this time, “yes ma’am.”

As you enter your front door Eddie goes and takes a seat on your couch as you head to your bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes. When you take a seat next to him just a few minutes later you explain everything to him.

You have been working at the strip club for over a year now. As much as you loved working at Family Video it just wasn’t paying enough. Bianca was a regular at FV with her family, and you grew a work-type friendship with her. One day she came in by herself and asked if you wanted to come to a charity event they were holding at the club. She immediately made it clear how odd it sounded about having a charity event at a strip club but assured you it was always a hit ; how the money went towards good causes in the city and the toy drives were always overflowing. You wanted to show your support so you went and had a fun time. Bianca introduced you to everyone, from her boss to her coworkers to regulars. It was a strange family-oriented work environment you never imagined. When Pam, the owner and boss, asked if you were interested at all in working for them you turned it down. But when bills started piling up and the holidays were around the corner you thought earning some extra cash would be helpful. So you went back, and was hired right from your interview. 

Pam explained how the club was run by women for women only. Everyone took you through training, first just as a waitress. You learned tips and tricks, and also had to come up with a fake name for security and privacy.

“Wait, so what’s your ‘fake name’?” Eddie asks using quotation marks.

“Lilith.”

“Why Lilith?” 

“It means ‘belonging to the night’. It’s also associated with meanings like ‘demon’ or ‘spirit.’”

“Well that’s badass. How did you come up with that?”

Look down at your lap. “Um, in one of your D&D books. The one you gave me about character building.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah…so anyway. I didn’t even think about dancing but Bianca asked me one day if I wanted to try it, so I did. Everyone thought I did a good job…I was on the next night and it just took off from there.”

“Why haven't you told anyone?”

“Because when Bianca asked me to come to the charity event I didn’t really know what to think about her being a stripper. I didn’t want to judge her, and I didn’t want people or colleagues to judge me. I really enjoy it. I have this new built confidence when I walk through those doors. We all really care for one another and root each other on.”

Eddie shifts himself closer to you. “What do you mean ‘new built confidence’?”

“Let me answer this with a question for you. How do you feel when you’re DM’ing at Hellfire?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, like I’m taking charge. Assertive. I know what I’m doing and I like how I make people feel afterwards.”

You reach and put your hand on his leg. “That’s exactly how I feel when I’m dancing.” You smile, shake your head, laugh to yourself.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just hilarious that we both feel the same way about two completely different scenarios.”

“Hm, true.”

“Can I ask you a question though?”

“Sure, anything.”

“...What did you think…about the dance…on your birthday?” You gulp.

“Psh, don’t you remember the way I was talking about you when I came here the next morning?” You nod. “Everything I said was true. I couldn’t get you out of my head. And then when I figured out it was you I just…had to tell you I knew. Couldn’t live with that secret, it would have driven me nuts.”

“How did you ask for me anyway? You didn’t even know my name.”

“I asked for the devil from the night before. The women who led me to the private room recognized me from when I was called up for the dance.”

You pondered, “Was she dressed in all silver?”

“...yes?”

“That’s Jade. She gave me a bit of a pep-talk, I almost asked her to go out instead of me.” 

Eddie looks at you muddled, “why didn’t you want to dance for me?”

“Because you're Eddie, you’re one of my closest friends and it just felt…I don't know, awkward.”

“Well, if I’m being honest your friend is very beautiful but,” he takes your chin and lines you up with his eyes, “I’m glad it was you.”

You smile, “I’m glad it was me too.” 

You stare at him for a bit, melting into his touch and his eyes ; and when your lips touch just seconds later without even realizing how close you were, you feel like you died and went to heaven. It was when his tongue slipped its way into your mouth that that confidence you talked about earlier started to kick in. You kick yourself up and straddle his lap, bringing your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself but never breaking the kiss. His hands find your hips, rings digging deep into your shirt, bringing them along to the slow steady pace as he starts with his own hips grinding up. You follow his rhythm and hum, starting to feel way too good.

And even though that confidence was built up for a few moments, your insecurities came rushing through. You part and separate yourself too quickly and mumble “no” ; Eddie looks upset as you stand up. “What’s wrong? Did I take it too far, I’m sorry-”

“No no it’s not you it’s just..me. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You stutter, tears beginning to paint your cheeks. “It’s just-you never did any of this before. And-now you find out I strip and we’re suddenly making out on my couch. I feel like I’m in some stupid rom com where I took off my glasses and suddenly you see me differently.”

“Hun, I can promise you it’s nothing like that.”

“I don’t mean to sound rude Eddie but I think you should go.”

“But-”

“I just need space, if that makes sense? Can I call you tomorrow or sometime later this week?”

“Yeah of course, whatever you need. I know this is a lot for you.”

“Yeah-yeah it is.” 

He walks over and kisses you on the top of your forehead before leaving. 

“And that’s basically what happened.” You swirl around in an office chair, disappointed in yourself. You were a mess, you spent the whole next morning thinking about Eddie and what happened. Today is even your day off, but you felt like you needed company so you made your way to the club for some hopeful reassurance you weren't taking this too far or overthinking.

“I think it’s sweet he’s giving you space, he understands your concerns and he’s respecting it. You don’t see that a lot nowaday..” Your other co-worker and current security cam watcher Leah has been listening to your rants all day. She just came back from maternity leave but wasn’t ready to dance, so her shifts have been bartending and security watch, mainly the private rooms from the cameras. When you arrived at the club no private dances were happening, so Leah took you to the security room for privacy. “I’m kinda glad you came though, I want to show you something from the night he was here.” She holds up a VHS tape and puts it in the VCR. You watch with bated breath as Eddie shows up on screen.

“What does-”

She puts her hand up, “Just listen.” You watch the footage, as Eddie paces the private room waiting for you to arrive. 

“Hey so, I’ve kind of liked you since high school and…no I can’t start with that.”

>>FF>>

“Finding out about dancing? That is just a perk that will come in the soon to be hopeful relationship…no that doesn’t sound right. Soon to be hopeful relationship? Steve is a fucking idiot for coming up with that line.” 

>>FF>>

“So…wanna go out on a date? Bowling, dinner? …What am I, 14?”

>>FF>>

“Alright Munson, you got this. Just tell her you figured it out and that this doesn’t change how you feel.” Then he plops down on the couch and lays back just as you found him.

Leah stops the tape and looks back to you.

“He…likes me?”

“Guess he does. So much for your negative thoughts huh?”

“I can’t believe this. He’s never shown any signs of…anything.”

“Pft, guys are weird. It took my husband years to ask me out on a first date but I waited! Here we are three years later with a new house and baby. It was all worth the wait, and I’m sure this will be for you too.”

“But how can I make this right? I feel like I screwed it all bigtime.”

“Why don’t you invite him to our charity event in a few weeks? It’s how your story started. Maybe it’ll be a new chapter for him too. Show him instead of talking to him to make things right.”

You smile wide, “...Has anyone told you you’re a genius?”

“And I thought Mom-Brain was getting to me already. But I’ll take the compliment.” You give Leah a hug and head out to make a very important phone call.

Eddie (of course) agreed to attend the charity event, and even offered to pay full price instead of the family and friends discount. You went in a few hours earlier to help set everything up while Eddie arrived when the event began. You introduced him to your co-workers ; some already knew about what happened but for your sake played it off like they knew nothing, which you greatly appreciated. Eddie took a seat at the bar, wishing you luck for your performance later which he was secretly looking forward to. Just before heading to the dressing room you stop by the DJ booth.

“Hey Cassie, here’s my tape for my dance. It’s Track 8, and I go on at 11.”

“Got it. Thanks love!” She looks at the cassette and ponders to herself, “huh, who’s Corroded Coffin?”

Your turn couldn’t come soon enough. Eddie was only two drinks in, constantly looking at the clock waiting for 11 to strike.

“You okay babe?” Leah, (or in tonight's case since she’s working, Carmella), comes over to check on him.

“Huh-yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course, she’ll be on in a few. Excited to watch her?”

“Ohyeah-yeah,totally.Can’t wait.” He takes a large sip of his drink.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“Can I be real with you for a second?”

“I’m a bartender, I’m here to lend an ear to your problems.” Leah leans in, “talk to me.”

“I’ve liked her forever, I’m just stupid and have never asked her out properly. And I don’t want her to think I’m asking her out now because of all this,” he motions his arms around the room.

“Well maybe she won’t think that.”

“But she does, I know she does. And I just feel like a fucking idiot.”

“Eddie, I can assure you by the end of the night you’re not going to feel that way.”

“How do you-” Just then the lights dim ; Eddie looks at the clock ; 11:00. 

Cassie takes the microphone and introduces you, “and now ladies and gentlemen one of our veteran and favorite dancers, Lilith!”

You take the stage ; back turned towards the crowd, grabbing onto the pole ; a beautiful black outfit snug to your body ; and your music hits the stereos, a loud guitar solo opening the song. 

Eddie thought his eyes were going to fall out of his sockets, immediately recognizing the solo as his own. ; And when you turned your head to face the crowd making eye contact with Eddie and giving him a wink, he knew he was done for.

He watched you in awe, he couldn’t believe someone in a strip club was dancing to his song. But in this case it wasn’t just anyone, it was you. Someone he’s known almost his whole life, someone he’s been trying to ask out for way too long but had doubts because of his own stupidity. When your performance was over he whistled from his seat and immediately turned to Leah, “are any of the private rooms taken?”

When you exited the stage and headed back to the dressing room you were met with cheers and hugs. Everyone loved your dance and gave you your praises. 

After a few moments of celebrating and thank yous, Leah came in, a smirk across her face ; more or less as a ‘I told you so’ look. “Room #2. Go, now” The girls all gave a collective “ohhhhhhhhh”, as you rolled your eyes and left.

Eddie is standing in the middle of the room this time. You shut the door and lean up against it. You're the first to speak up ; “So,” you start to walk closer, “what did you think?”

“Don’t come any closer.” 

You stop, baffled at his words. “Why?”

“Because if you come any closer I’m going to lay you on this couch and do unthinkable things to you.”

You blush, hard. “You sure you wanna do that with a security camera in the corner?”

He looks up at the camera and waves, “free entertainment, no?”

You chuckle, such a typical Eddie answer.

“Well-”

“If you wanna know what I thought, I’m seriously never gonna get you out of my head now. How the hell am I going to ever perform that song without thinking straight?”

You look down shyly, rocking on your heels. 

“And as much as I would love to give your friends some content, I do want to do this whole thing right.” He brings himself to stand right in front of you, “let me take you on a date, a proper one. Pick you up, dinner-”

“Maybe…bowling?” He brings his head to the side, giving you a bewildered look.

“I mean, if you want too-”

“I’m joking, but dinner would be great.”

“Cool-cool. Can I pick you up tomorrow at 6?”

“Sounds like a date.” You stand more on your heels, placing a small kiss to his cheek and leaving him alone in the room.

Quick Notes - Didn't expect this to get as much love as it did so thank you again! Reblogs are appreciated! :) also yes I have an idea for a Part 3 but we'll see!

[shanastoryteller]

a continuation of 1

Dean doesn’t sleep.

He spends the night with a bottle of Jack and a crowbar, tearing into junker cars that were never going to run again anyway. Bobby leaves him to it, maybe sleeping, maybe not. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care.

Casey sits there on the roof of a rusty beetle, legs crossed and leaning back on her hands as she watches him. He does his best to ignore her, but it becomes impossible around dawn when his Jack goes missing and he sees her tipping her head back to swallow it down. “Get your own.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” she says, licking the whiskey from her lips.

He snarls, “Fuck off. You’re not my damned babysitter.”

She laughs, not mocking, not cruel, but like she finds what he’s said to be genuinely funny. “That’s exactly what I am. I don’t think Samuel will be too pleased with me if I let you die of alcohol poisoning.”

The crowbar he’s been swinging for hours suddenly feels too heavy and he lets it drop, instead running a hand through his hair. He thinks the moisture there is sweat. It probably is, otherwise Casey would have had something to say about it. “And what? You do what he says or he does to you what he did to Lilith?”

“Lilith wished to bring about the end of the world,” she says, “and, more importantly, the end of you.” He shudders, rebelling against her words even after being confronted with the truth of them. This is because of him. Sammy did this to save him. He’d rather be in hell. “Killing her like he did was for Ruby’s benefit, but he was never going to let her live.”

“So he’ll make your death quick then,” he says.

“If I fail in my duty to protect you, I imagine my death will be slow and cruel,” she says. “But I’m not doing this because I’m afraid of Samuel.”

“Right,” he says, lips twisting. “Carrot, not stick. Your lover will be returned to you if you’re a good little soldier.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not a soldier and Samuel is not a general.”

He wishes he was drunker for this conversation. Despite Casey’s words, he’s basically sober, too long between drinks, too long spent sweating it out in his rage. “I don’t understand.”

“Samuel is my king,” she says gently, reverently, “and I am his subject. If he calls on me to be a soldier, then I shall. If he calls on me to be a jester, then I shall.”

He wants to laugh, but his throat is too dry and she has his dam whiskey. “So, what? You’re just going to hang around watching me all the time? That’s perverted.”

Casey tilts her head to the side, spreading her legs and licking her bottom lip. “We could make it perverted, if you like.”

She’s hot, but revulsion rolls through him. “And if Sam called on you to be a whore, you’d be that too then? What would your lover have to say about that?”

“We’ve been together a long time. Exclusivity loses its shine after a while. We are demons, after all.” She sighs, shifting until she’s leaning forward, elbows on her knees and a look on her face that he almost believes is sincere. “You know better than most how cheap sex can be. If Samuel wished for me to use my body in that manner, I would not object. But it’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like then?” he snaps. “Casey, I swear to god, I’m going to fucking lose it. This is – this is just–”

He can’t even finish. His baby brother is leading the demons, just like that yellow eyed bastard always wanted. They’re calling him king.

He tore apart Lilith like it was nothing. Ruby had told him there was no way out of his deal, but Dean wonders if maybe she’d just given up on getting Sam to wear the crown. Or if maybe his deal is still in place, still perfectly valid, only Sam’s not letting anyone collect.

“My orders aren’t that specific,” she tells him. “That’s sort of the point. You want to take a roll in the sheets? Sure. You want a hunting partner? Having a demon as back up comes with perks. You want to retire to some cabin and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist? I’ll take up knitting. Samuel could have ordered any of his demons to protect you, but he picked me. He didn’t just want to give you a bodyguard. He hoped that we could be friends.”

He doesn’t want a friend. “I want my brother.”

Casey softens. “He knows that. So does he. That’s why he couldn’t let you die. You get that, don’t you Dean? You made a deal with the devil first.”

Dean presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Everything he does ends up hurting someone he loves.

~

When he stumbles into the kitchen the next morning – or early afternoon, technically – Bobby is drinking a beer and staring at Casey, who’s seated across from him with four different boxes of sugary cereal in front of her and a jug of milk. Bobby’s eyes flicker over to him. “Someone went grocery shopping.”

“Where’d you get the money?” Dean asks and immediately regrets it. She obviously just stole it.

“Your wallet,” she says. Bitch. “Eating is fun. We didn’t have these when I was human. Want a bowl?”

“What the hell,” he says, collapsing down in front of her. She huffs, but gets up to get him a bowl and spoon, dropping it in front of him. The box of Lucky Charms makes his stomach twinge, so he settles for Cinnamon Toast Crunch. He says to Bobby, “You’re just letting her stay here?”

He shrugs. “It’s not like I can get rid of her, thanks to Sam. Besides. She bought beer.”

Technically, Dean bought beer. “Okay, that’s another thing,” he points at her with his spoon. “What’s with this whole sacrament thing? Is that how Sam’s getting demons on his side, making them immune to exorcisms and shit?”

He hopes not. The last thing they need is a hoard of supercharged demons, even if they’re answering to his brother.

She wrinkles her nose. “Of course not. Many of us believe. Others are simply interested in picking the winning side and chose correctly. Those who followed Lilith did so because they believed Samuel to be unworthy, but with her death they’ll know better. They’ll bow to him. Or die.”

“What about Ruby?” he asks.

“Credit where credit is due,” she says stiffly. It occurs to Dean that Casey doesn’t like Ruby and feels just a little bit of fondness for her because of it. “She realized the truth first. Probably because she used to be loyal to Lilith. It’s almost ironic. She is to Sam what Lilith was to Lucifer.”

Bobby shares an irritated glance with him. It’s not that Casey isn’t being forthcoming, it’s just that half of what she says doesn’t make any sense. “I was actually talking about the whole sacrament thing.”

She straightens, face alighting with a smug sort of pride. “No, Ruby hasn’t taken the sacrament. Samuel has only offered it to me.”

“So that you could protect Dean without being sent back to hell,” Bobby says. She nods.

He rubs a hand over his face. “I still don’t get how drinking my brother’s blood did jack shit.”

“I’m purified,” she says, then takes a large bite of her cereal.

Dean’s just now noticing that she’s mixed all four cereals into one bowl instead of eating them sequentially, which is the most demonic behavior she’s shown so far.

Apparently this is going to take a while.

[oozedninjas]

Snap call

Summary: You send him nudes while he is on patrol, and Raph isn't quite happy about it.

A/N: I've been working on this for a couple of days! Hope you like it :) To that person who's been asking for Nightwatcher smut, wink, wink

Warnings: 18+ /NDNI / Breeding / sending nudes / Nightwatcher!Raph / Raph is around his early 30's / super brief ass-eating / dirty talking/dom!Raph

It is past midnight when he slips through the narrow window of your apartment’s room, still wearing his vigilante armor. His labored breaths rumble within the helmet, delivering them with a metallic tint that makes you tingle.

"Do you think you're funny, sending dirty pics all night while I'm on patrol?" He says, his voice raw as he approaches. It only takes him a few swift strides to stand beside you. The metallic clang of his boots on the floor sends a shiver down your spine, building anticipation. “Strip, now.”

A grin threatens to arise at the sight of him in this state, burning for you, but you bite it back, ditching the thin fabric of your pajamas in a heartbeat. The moment the last strand of clothing falls off your body, Raphael grips your arms, forcing you to turn around, back to his front. He closes the space between you. The icy metal of the Nightwatcher’s armor to your bare skin makes you gasp.

The cool of his gloves scrapes against your heated skin as his palms trail a path from your shoulders to your arms to dance lower, dipping across your abdomen and up from there. His grip tightened around your breasts. You catch your breath. 

Expert fingers pinch your nipples, pulling, rolling them just enough for a soft moan to leave your lips. Raphael growls, enjoying the sound. His voice echoes through the metal helmet.

"Look at my little whore, too desperate to have me filling you up that you can't even wait for me to finish patrol?" he teases, as he keeps playing with them.

"I've been wanting this the whole evening..." you mutter, voice trembling.

"And you're not even sorry! Fucking cheeky of you," he chuckles, it's dark and sexy. "Let's fix that."

Raphael lifts the helmet from his head, placing it carefully on the bedside table. Under the room's dim illumination, the metal surface becomes a hazy, distorted mirror. He pushes you to the bed, barely giving you time to adjust on all fours before he licks a strip from your cunt to your ass. Your mouth gapes, and a whine puffs off.

"Mmm, so fucking tasty," 

His voice makes your blood run hot. Raphael sinks his face into you with not even a hint of shame as he starts fucking you with his tongue, wet and warm, impossibly soft against your pussy. He'd slide it over your clit from time to time, granting it the tiniest of attention.

You whine, pushing yourself to him, but Raph bites the inside of your thigh adequately hard to make you yelp. His hand fists your hair, pulling just enough to tingle your scalp. "Don't be greedy," he murmurs in your ear from behind. You can make out the scene of the reflection on the helmet.

 "Tell me, what do you want?"

His hot breath tickles your ear. Everything he'd just done left your pussy a complete mess. You could feel the dampness dripping. God, you wanted him to fuck you stupid, nothing more. But the fear of another bite from a direct answer keeps your lips sealed.

"What’s the matter? Can't my doll think straight?" Raphael says, pushing a metal finger inside your cunt, dreadfully slow. 

"Please— " your voice weak and desperate.

He smirks. "Yeah, that's more like it. But, please what?" he says, rubbing the tip of his finger on that sweet spot inside as he keeps you still by the hair. "Please stop?" 

"No!" it came out so desperate you cringed. His soft chuckle soothed you a bit. "Please fuck me," 

He withdraws, emptying you. You want to jerk back to chase the delicious feeling of being full, but he halts you. 

"Yeah? How bad do you want it?" 

"Very— please," you whisper. His grip on your hair burns so fine, "Please, I'll be good... I'll be good."

"Fuck yes, you will," Raphael says, thrusting inside in one motion. It janks your breath off. He reaches deep, just the right spot. You can't help the lewd moan that follows.

"Look at that drunk-like smile," he tells you, letting go of your hair as he brings you up to embrace you against him. This shift has you on your knees, back resisting against his torso. The cold armor soothes the fire of your skin. Raph holds your face toward the reflection on the helmet, forcing you to watch your blissful expression. "You're such a good little slut for me. Gonna make you feel good, you want that?" 

"Yes," you breathe, desperately holding his hands where they rest over your body,  clenching and unclenching around his shaft.

He mutters praise in your ear, but you can't make it out as he starts pounding in and out, rhythmically, building a pace that makes your head fall back, mouth gaping while loud moans along with the filth of skin slapping fill the air.

He curses under his breath, you're tight, he says. You feel good, he's going crazy. "Touch yourself, let me see you," Raph takes your hand to drive it down to your front. You reach your clit, not losing detail of his dark gaze reflecting on the helmet, absorbing the whole scene.

It takes you a few seconds to pair his thrust with the circles over your soft nub, but once you do, it feels fucking heavenly. You make it last for as long as you can, right there where pleasure lingers strongly right before the peak. Your orgasm crashes over you, numbing everything. 

"Fuck, yes, just like that- t- that's a good fucking girl," 

The pulsations of your high around his cock trigger his own, and he comes loud and long. The hot loads filling you up weaken your knees.

He holds your ground before gently placing you on the mattress, allowing his weight over you as he rests. 

"Remind me to send you nudes more often," you say, once you catch your breath.

A raspy laugh pours into your ear, tickling. 

[act-nat-ural]

Misunderstandings

@dira333: what about a meet ugly with Daichi or Kita? A meet ugly is about meeting someone in a less than fortunate way but somehow you still fall in love?

You had just finished a long, exhausting work week and wanted to treat yourself to something nice. Hence, a slightly fancy dinner alone. You let out a content sigh, sipping your drink. The ambience of the restaurant was impeccable, the lighting was soft enough for patrons to relax, and the music blended into the soft chatter in the background. You were still waiting for your meal, but the breadsticks in this place made for a good distraction. You hum and break off another piece. Don't mind if I do.

Suddenly, an athletic-looking man sits down across from you. He gives you an apologetic look and says, “I’m so sorry I’m late. Work ran a bit long, and I got here as fast as I could. The hostess said you weren’t waiting long, though.” He continues explaining his tardiness, but—who the hell is this guy!? Your eyes widen at his sudden appearance, almost choking on your precious bite of breadstick. You cover your mouth and start coughing, while he looks a bit flustered.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You shake your head and gesture that you're fine. You catch your breath and finally take a good look at him, and you quite like what you see. He has dark, short hair that suits his face nicely. His shoulders are quite broad, and you can tell he has some muscle on him. More importantly, he has warm, brown eyes that seem to stare right through you.

You take a deep breath and finally say, “I’m sorry, but who—” when a very angry-looking woman storms over. Just when you thought your eyes couldn't get any wider.

“Who the hell do you think you are?! Flirting with someone else, standing me up on our date? I can't believe you, Daichi! Koushi said you were a total catch! Ugh!”

You break your gaze away from the fired-up woman and steal a glance at who you guess is Daichi, and see his jaw is practically on the floor. He sputters and is stuck between looking at you and her, before she stomps her way out of the restaurant. 

You two are silent for a moment, registering the chaos that just erupted at your table. Out of the corner of your eye, you can spot several groups of fellow diners whispering about what just happened, and you honestly wish you could disappear.

You sigh and meet his eyes. “Daichi, right?” He nods grimly. “I’m almost certain you can tell by now I wasn’t your date. I was going to tell you but I was pretty confused and couldn't find a good time to, and then, well…” You grimace at the thought of getting yelled at by his date. 

“I am so sorry.” He lets out a deep sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “To be honest, I don’t do this kind of thing- dating, I mean. My friend said he’d found a good match, and the way he described her, well I thought- I thought it was you.” He lets out a nervous cough.

You blink and think about his words. “What.. do you mean?” His face blushes and his gaze focuses on a corner in the room.

 “He, um, said that my date was very beautiful. That she was very approachable, and funny. I heard all that, and then the hostess said my date was waiting back here, and I saw you. I thought ‘This must be her.’” You watch his face as he goes on, and all you see is sincerity. Your face burns due to the flattery coming from him right now.

“I… wow.” Is all you manage to get out.

“Once again, I'm sorry. I'll leave you to your dinner.” He pushes his chair out and moves to stand but you can hardly stop yourself from grasping his arm. 

“Wait!” His eyes widen slightly and he looks at you expectantly. You chew on your lip nervously and say, “I feel a little responsible for ruining your date. It's the least I could do to have dinner with you. If you would want to, that is.” 

He gives you a comforting smile and softly says, “I’d love that.”

note: this was so fun to write, thx so much for the requests. I hope it lives up to your expectations :)

[detectivestucks2]

Toji as Your Ex Husband

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Toji x F!Reader

Summary: Toji sees you at the park with your kid while he was on a job and becomes obsessed with seducing you into weekly quickies in the back of his car

Warnings: NSFW, oral sex, toy usage, unprotected sex, anal play, cum feeding

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!!

Ex Husband Toji who you only thought of twice as you got ready for your Valentine’s Day date. Your shimmering baby pink dress looks adorable against your skin complexion. Paired with black leather high heel boots and a leather choker, you skate the line between edgy and classy in a most seductive way.

Ex Husband Toji who you continue to push out of your mind as you finish fluffing your brows and running one last coat of mascara over your lashes. Proud of the way you look, once you stand up straight and really observe the end result, you can’t help but post a selfie of how cute your blind date look came together.

Ex Husband Toji who blows up your phone with four missed calls and eight text messages as you enter your uber, heading off to your date

You’re going on a date? Since when are you seeing someone?

What’s his name?

Don’t ignore me. Name. Now.

We’re really playing this game, huh? 

I forbid you to go out tonight. My wife isn’t slutting herself out on Valentine’s Day.

If you don’t respond to me, I’m coming to get you.

Woman, respond to me or else.

You think this is funny? Let’s see who’s laughing once I come over. 

Ex Husband Toji who’s threats you ignore, knowing he no longer has any control over your life. The Zenin lad may still call himself by your last name but he has no right to continue to soil your family’s legacy with his dirty work. 

Ex Husband Toji who secretly enabled a tracking app on your phone so he doesn’t need you to respond to his text messages. He can confront your bratty behavior at the restaurant where he plans to teach you a lesson you won’t forget. He hops on his motorcycle and rides to your location, stalking through the crowds outside several restaurants till he’s on top of you. Eyes anxiously scouring the hordes of people, he uses his height as a vantage point till he sees you, his gorgeous ex wife who had no business being here unless it’s with him. 

Ex Husband Toji who’s heart stops when he sees you with another man. Sure he’s a pretty boy, but his muscles are just for show. He obviously can fight and doesn’t know anything about protecting you. This boy can’t provide for you the way he can. You don’t need this guy, you need someone like him. Anger and desperation brew in his gut and he marches over to where you sit, ready to make a scene. 

Ex Husband Toji who scares you when he pops up next to you, “Toji! What are you doing here?!” 

“Why are you mad at me? I’m the one who’s wife is on a date with a stranger on Valentine’s Day! How could you do this to me, baby?” 

“Baby?”

“Woah, wait” your date interjects, “You’re married?!”

“No!” 

“Yes!”

“We’re not married, Toji! You know as well as I that we got divorced last year. Let it go. Move on.”

“I’m not moving on. You’re my wife. Till death do we part.” Your pulse thunders in your neck as your anger rises.

“Look, I’m not trying to get in the middle of anything.” Your date says, with his hands raised. “I just wanted to meet a nice girl, I don’t have time for whatever this is.”

“No, wait!”

But your date didn’t listen, he took out his wallet and dropped a $50 on the table before staring at Toji’s mountainous figure in horror, and scurrying off to his sports car.

“Good, now that the trash has taken itself out, we need to talk”

“No we don't, Toji. Leave me alone. Haven’t you done enough this evening?” You stand up in fury, making to leave when he snatches your wrist.

Ex Husband Toji who grips you so tightly you feel your skin bruise. His desperation makes him forget his strength as he stares at you, trying to understand what he just witnessed. You were with another man. You dressed like this for someone else. His soul felt like it had been crushed, and just like that the anger returned.  “What you did tonight is unacceptable” he fumes, “apologize.”

“Are you insane?!”

“Apologize or I will bend you over right here and give you a spanking.”

You tug at your arm, trying to free your wrist from his clutches, but his grip is too strong. You begin to whine as you realize how useless your efforts are. With a sickening smirk Toji yanks you to him and lays you over his knees. “No Toji!” you shout but the hand gripping the back of your neck is unmoving. His muscles are so massive that even his forearm is difficult to grip as you struggle. The combined efforts of both of your hands are no match and before you can do anything to stop him, Toji is striking your backside for insubordination. 

Ex Husband Toji who has you yelping and shouting in the middle of a fancy restaurant on one of the busiest nights of the year, publicly shaming you for trying to move on, and for acting like a little slut. When he feels you still haven’t learned your lesson he lifts your skirt so your bottom is barren except for the thin fabric of your lace thong. The sight begins to make him drool but his fury rages on and his palm turns the flesh fuschia before the eyes of every patron dinning nearby. 

Ex Husband Toji who is tapped on the shoulder by the restaurant’s manager, demanding Toji leave or they’re calling the cops. Rounding his shoulders and cracking his neck, Toji stands up, holding you around the waist. When you try to walk away he grips you tightly and throws you over his shoulder. “Like hell, woman. You’re coming with me.”

Ex Husband Toji who carries you to his motorcycle with you protesting the entire way. It didn’t matter how much you kicked or how hard you punched his back, he set you down on the seat of his bike like you were a toy doll and sat behind you, caging you in to make sure you wouldn’t jump off. When he starts his bike he spins out towards your home and your gut fills with rocks, knowing nothing good is going to come from this. 

Ex Husband Toji who kicks open the side door of your home as he drags you inside still protesting. He doesn’t understand why you continue to resist him when there’s no point. “Stop Toji. I’m home, okay? I’m home, there’s no guy coming. You can leave now.”

“NO! I’m not leaving. I left you too many times. I can’t do it anymore.”

Something twitches in your abdomen, something like a tiny butterfly as you see one of the most gorgeous men on this planet’s face crack with sadness at the thought of leaving you. “No, Toji.” you say softer than before. “We don’t work. We tried and this doesn’t work.”

“I’ll make it work” he says as he comes closer, hands tracing up your forearms and biceps. “Please baby. I need you.”

“You don’t need me.” you whisper as you look down. “You could have any woman you wanted.”

“Not when that woman’s you.” he whispers back.

Ex Husband Toji who brushes a strand of hair behind your ear before pulling you into a kiss. That twitch in your stomach erupts into full on butterflies and at the same time you’re kicking yourself for caving because this only ever leads to one thing…

Ex Husband Toji who tears off your dress before carrying you into the room and tossing you on the bed. You grapple at his shirt as he removes his belt, laying it on the bed before he lowers his pants, tossing them aside. Once naked, he pulls off your boots, one by one, kissing each leg as he does so. 

Ex Husband Toji who spreads your legs, cause he is the only man allowed to do so, licking and nipping your inner thighs while enjoying how you flinch from sensitivity. When his mouth finds your center he bites down on your bud, making you scream from both pain and pleasure. Your hands fly into his messy black locks, pulling him off and pushing him back into you, unable to decide what you want. His tongue flicks out of his mouth paying special attention to your nub before pointing and slotting into your center. Your head lolls back and you moan, the sound ringing in Toji’s ear like a an anthem. You grind your hips up into his mouth, fisting his hair and pushing his face into you. He won. He knew he would, but the victory is just as sweet, nonetheless. 

Ex Husband Toji who turns you into a needy puddle with his mouth before denying you your orgasm. Your upset whine brings a mischievous grin to his lips. “Not so fast, hun. We have some behavior to address.” Just as you register what he means, Toji reaches for his nearby belt and slips it around your neck, the end already threaded through the buckle. He yanks on the leather as he flips you onto your knees, letting it bite into your column. Your fingers try to slip into the loop, to release the pressure but it’s too tight. 

Ex Husband Toji who sinks his weighty girth into your dripping hole as he chokes you. “I knew a filthy slut like you would get wet from being treated like a bitch. You like your new leash? I hope so, cause you’ll be wearing it awhile.” He continues to berate you, his hips beginning to grind into you. 

His member throbs in your walls as he drags in and out of you, pushing in and retreating slowly. But it was too slow. Even though he had you drooling, you wanted more. You begin to throw your hips back and a dangerous chuckle fans your ear. “Oh, is that what you want? Okay baby. I can give you that.”

Ex Husband Toji who wraps the leather around his knuckles, tightening your leash before he pistons into you. His breathing labors and his lungs grunt. Your eyes flutter from the familiar sounds, it is all so dirty and erotic, you clench around him tighter, unable to hide your arousal. “That’s it baby. Just like that. Take this dick like the good little slut you are.” You cry out, feeling him tighten the belt again. You can barely breathe and it makes you so wet your fluids are dripping onto the bed. 

Ex Husband Toji who pounds into you, bouncing you off his pelvis as he spears your cute little cunt. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from oxygen deprivation while the most whorish sounds fill the room. He turned you into exactly what he wanted. His slut, serving him and only him. You feel like a slave to his passions. This is how he gets you every time. This is how you ended up marrying him. He fucked you till you said yes. 

Ex Husband Toji who spanks your already red rear as he hammers into you, reminding you of the naughty girl you’ve been, trying to give this pussy to another man. This is his pussy, and no one else is allowed to touch it. He’ll make sure you remember this lesson. Manipulating you with his belt, Toji whips you over to your back and folds you in half. He pushes your feet to your ears and raises his body so he can pummel down into your folds, making you scream from the intensity. You sound so beautiful when you’re like this, all mouth and no words. You try to form them, it’s not as if there’s a lack of effort, he just gets you so good you grow dumb on his length. 

Ex Husband Toji who pulls your face up to his by fisting your hair. Your eyes scrunch in pain but at the end of the day, you like it rough. If he were more prepared he would’ve brought the whip you like, but for now he’ll settle for his hands. He tugs your face to his lips so he can kiss you feverishly. You open your mouth obediently, waiting for him to spit in it before he dives his tongue in to dance with yours. 

Ex Husband Toji who loses his composure after the kiss, becoming more beast than man as he quickens his pace and pumps into you so hard that your entire bed is rockings, scooting inch by inch across the floor from how he chases his orgasm. He doesn’t even care if you cum because 1) you didn’t earn it and 2) he knows you're going to anyway. You have a habit of finishing at the same time he does so when your velvet interior flutters around him just as a prolonged scream released from your throat, it does the trick and his seed explodes inside of you, painting your cavern white and swimming into your cervix, looking to get you pregnant before you can come to your senses. 

Ex Husband Toji who pins you down, exerting his power over you for a few more minutes, while he can. He looks down on your glazed over eyes, savoring how he can wreck your body and praying his spend finds its way to your fallopian tubes to make a baby. He needs you to get pregnant so he never has to let you go.  

Ex Husband Toji who gets to spend the night because you passed out shortly after he finished. He gets up to go to the bathroom and grabs you a washcloth, cleaning up your legs before tucking you under the bed covers. When he’s done he slips between the sheets with you, and presses his body against yours, falling asleep immediately because for the first time in months he is home and he isn’t going anywhere. 

Masterlist

[shadowuponstorm]

You're Gonna Get Us in Trouble

Reader is the newest member of the 118 and is a huge rule follower. So what happens when her secret relationship almost comes to light when a certain Diaz can't keep his hands off of her? Oh, did I mention that the reader is Bobby Nash's niece?

I'm not sure if this should be a warning, there are some spicy sentences (regarding f!oral receiving and squeezing of the ass), but they don't qualify this as smut fanfic, in my opinion! If I'm thinking incorrectly, please tell me in the comments or message me.

I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand. Reaching my hand over, I turn the phone towards me to see the contact name, "Uncle Bobby," taking over the whole screen. I silently curse before answering with a "Morning, Uncle Bobby. Did you need something?"

"Sorry to be waking you up before shift, but I was wondering if you could run by the store to grab some essentials for me," Bobby says as I feel the other body beside me starting to move.

"Yeah, sure. Do you have a list?" I asked as I felt a pair of lips kissing a trail behind my ear and then stopping at the one spot that makes me shiver, "Actually, can you text it to me? I still got sleep on my mind to remember all of it."

Once Bobby told me that was completely fine, I hung up the phone after we exchanged love you. I turned to face Eddie and slapped him on his bare shoulder before scolding him, "He could've heard you!"

"It was worth the risk," Eddie said as he leaned closer to kiss me, "When are we eventually going to tell people?"

"It's bad enough that he keeps overhearing Buck talk about the bruises on my neck. It's going to become worse if he finds out I'm dating one of his 'boys' after he warned me not to," I respond as I sighed before telling Eddie it will be soon.

Eddie and I have been dating for six months, which has been the best months of my life. He has all the qualities that make him amazing, sweet, funny, always knows how to take care of me when the situation calls for it, and he's attentive.

"Amor, keeping us a secret has to be eating away at you. It can't be good for you," Eddie whispered as I remind him how I'm a follower and nobody expects me to start bending the rules just because I'm dating a fellow firefighter, "Well, I've got an idea that will help keep your mind off of it."

"Edmundo, no, we only have 15 minutes before we have to report for a shift," I said as Eddie smirked before pushing up the shirt I was wearing, making my lace panties come into view.

"I only need 8 of those minutes," Eddie whispered while his head disappeared under the covers as his fingers trailed my underwear down my legs before moving them back up to spread my folds.

"Eddie-" I started to laugh before letting out a moan from feeling his tongue enter me and I run my hand through his hair before balling into a fist to pull at it, which in turns, makes him groan out into me.

Let’s just say, it took exactly 7 minutes and 20 seconds for Eddie to make me come from just his mouth. After I “finished”, we got our showers, put on our uniforms, and left my apartment in our separate vehicles before he heads to the station while I head to the store.

“Wow, your mystery man certainly is a leech,” I hear Buck shout as I rush over to him and slammed my hand over his mouth before telling him to shut the fuck up.

“Is this the same guy or a different one?” Howie asks as I explained to him that I’m not that type of girl, “I’m just saying, no judgment here. Buckaroo here knows what it’s like.”

“Hey, come on, that was years ago! I’ve now since quit that,” Buck complains as I laugh and told him that I knew that he has since changed his ways.

I head over to my locker and started putting my stuff in there before I feel someone tap my shoulder and whisper, “Why is Diaz on your shirt?”

“Wait what?” I asked in a panic as I try to look in a mirror before I hear Hen laughing and I groaned before saying “Real funny, Hen.”

Hen is the only one who knows about mine and Eddie’s relationship, since she caught the two of us getting a little too close for comfort at an event for the department. Turns out, she has a bet going with most of the boys that Eddie and I would end up together so she offered to keep the secret if I help her win.

“So, you were a little late this morning, I take Eddie took his sweet time?” Hen teases, making me laugh before explaining that Bobby called asking for me to grab some essential for lunch or dinner, “Wait, did Bobby hear him?”

"Almost, can you imagine how embarrassing it would be if my uncle has heard his niece ‘getting some loving’?” I said as Hen snickers and starts to laugh before I smack her arm, harshly whispering, “It’s not that funny!”

“What’s not funny?” I hear Uncle Bobby asked, so I swiftly responded nothing before he gives me and Hen a concerned look.

“She was just telling me about how she’s embarrassed she burnt herself with the curling iron again,” Hen responds as Bobby shook his head and said “You’ve been getting quite a lot of those bruises lately, try to be careful next time alright?”

“Of course Uncle Bobby,” I told him as he walks away, before I turned my attention back to Hen, “I’m going to murder Eddie.”

Hen laughs again as she walks away towards upstairs, leaving me alone in the locker room. A few minutes go by before I hear the door open and footsteps enter.

“Hola Amor,” I hear Eddie whisper in my ear as I feel his hand move down to my ass to squeeze it.

“Eddie,” I warned him while I reached back and removed his hand, “You’re gonna get us in trouble.”

Eddie then moves me around, facing him before putting his hands on my hips and whispering, “With who? Everyone’s upstairs and we’re alone.”

“Even if they are upstairs, this room is like a glass house,” I whispered back as Eddie shook his head and leans in to give me a kiss.

“You worry too much, maybe your uncle will be happy you finally found a handsome man who swept you off your feet,” Eddie says, making me smile, before he continues with, “And maybe he won’t be too mad that his two firefighters happen to be dating.”

“You don’t understand how overprotective Bobby can get, especially about family,” I respond before sighing, “Ever since he’s lost his wife and kids in that fire, he’s been beating himself up mentally. Heaven forbid, something happens to me, to Athena, to May, to Harry, to anyone in the fire family under his watch, I fear he’s could go back into that spiral that made him fall off the wagon.”

“While I can’t exactly say I’ve been in your shoes witnessing that part of Bobby, I do know what it’s like to be overprotective about someone you love,” Eddie says and before I could say I know he’s meaning Christopher, he continues, “I never told you this but before I was to re-enlist to provide money for Christopher’s medical bills, Shannon left us to go take care of her mother. She begged me to go with her, but all I was focusing on was making sure I could give Christopher everything he wanted or needed. She called me selfish for doing so.”

“Edmundo Diaz, nothing about you is selfish. Your son was born with complications and has cerebral palsy so he’s bound to have medical expenses at some points of his life. That kid is so lucky to have you as his father and don’t forget, you had an army standing right behind you helping you out with whatever you needed while you were working various jobs to sustain a living,” I reminded him, which made him give me the biggest smile I’ve ever gotten from him, before he kisses me again, but this time with passion.

“Damn it!” We heard someone shout before we pulled apart and jerked our heads to the sound, Buck.

“Pay up gentlemen,” Hen says as Eddie and I exited the locker room, “Thanks to you two, I’m now $40 richer.”

“How long has this been going on?” Chimney asks before glancing his eyes over to my uncle.

“Are you mad?” I asked, nervous for his reaction since like I told Eddie, he’s overprotective about family.

Bobby then starts making his way downstairs and walks toward me before pulling me into a bear hug.

“There is no way I could be mad about my niece being happy with the man she loves,” Bobby says before I squeezed him back, “But really, how long have you two been together?”

“6 months,” Eddie and I both said before Buck asked if Christopher knows, which prompts Eddie to answer with, “He knows, he’s been very excited about the two of us.”

“When did you tell him?” I asked, curious how Christopher has managed to keep the secret.

“He actually drew a picture of the three of us and when I asked him why he included you, he said you were like a second mom to him. Always there when he needed you or there if he wants to talk to you. He also had suspicions when he saw my contact name for you on my phone,” Eddie responds, making me laugh before I ask him what it is.

Eddie takes his phone out of his pocket and pulls up the contacts before scrolling to the name he has for me, which made my heart melt.

“Mi Amor Por Siempre, which translates to ‘My Love Forever’ in English,” Eddie explains as I try not to cry about the meaning in front of everyone.

“I wonder what your contact name is for him,” Buck pipes up as I laugh at the random outburst.

“Mi Soldado, my soldier,” I said, making Buck confused and he then asked me if it would’ve made more sense for it to be my firefighter, “Eddie may be a firefighter, but he was a soldier first. Still is even if he’s in a different profession, he soldiered through single parenthood, war, and especially soldiered through fire. I couldn’t be any more prouder of him.”

“Now you two are perfect for one another,” Hen says as Eddie dips me and kisses me, making everyone hoot and holler at the scene.

Suddenly the alarm rang and the voice came on to tell us where we were needed. While everyone is hustling and bustling to get ready to leave the station, Eddie whispered, “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

I smiled before saying, “Definitely not,” as I put my hand in his and we start racing toward the truck, with not a care in the world who’s watching us be in love anymore.

[i-heart-yellowstone]

Kayce dutton x reader

Reader tells gator to have a day surprising everyone with lunch " I just want you to know I appreciate you and want to be a part of the family " reader said " you are part of the family " john said kayce gets down on one knee in front of everyone

Always One Of US

The Dutton family always thanked Gator for serving everyone on the family ranch. He was a great cook and did an amazing job. But I decided that I needed to show my appreciation towards the family that I have been helping run their ranch for a few years. When Beth called me saying they needed a new ranch hand I instantly took up the offer. Making them all dinner and giving Gator the day off is the best way to show my appreciation and loyalty to the ranching family.

The front door opened while I was sitting the brisket in the center of the table along with some potatoes and some cookies that Tate had made earlier in the day for dessert. “Darling, what are you doing here. Did you help Gator do all this?” I heard Kayce’s voice enter the room where he removed his hat hanging it on the wall.

“Actually I made all of this. I gave Gator the night off.” I responded by turning around to face him, finally getting everything set out.

Kayce came over to me wrapping his arms around my waist bringing me closer. He leans down kissing me slowly and I lean up kissing him back since we hadn’t seen each other much today. “You didn’t have to do this for us.”

“I wanted to, Kayce. It’s not a big deal.” I ran a hand through his tousled curly hair smiling brightly.

The front door opened another time with John entering the dining room seeing us break apart from one another going to sit down at the table to eat our dinner. “This all looks fairly good.” John sat down at the head of the table with me and Kayce sitting across from each other in the chairs closest to him.

“Thank you for saying that, John. I made the meal tonight.” I explained swallowing the bite of meat I had in my mouth.

John had always looked up to me considering I had made Kayce realize that he could be better and run the ranch even if he wasn’t keen to the idea in the beginning. Kayce and I had gotten together a few weeks after he had finalized his divorce with Tate’s mother.

Our meal for the most part went fairly well. Kayce and I had cleaned up the dining table with John leaning in the doorway watching us for a few minutes before saying a word. “Y/n, I’m just curious as to why you thought you needed to make us dinner. I’m not saying anything in it was bad, it was amazing. But I just want to know why.”

“How about we go sit down and finish this conversation.” Kayce suggested and we all agreed moving back into the dining room sitting back in our sports we were in a few moments ago.

I sighed brushing my hair out of my face, eyeing the man who I admired from the first moment I had met him. This family means everything to me and I wouldn’t trade any of my memories here for something else. I just prayed they valued me as much as I did them. “I just want you to know I appreciate y’all and want to be a part of the family.”

John stands up from his head seat at the table. “You are a part of the family.”

“I am. I don’t understand.” I sent him a confused face.

Kayce lowered himself down on one knee right in front of me. Reaching inside his pants pocket he slowly opened a small black box showing me a simple gold ring. “Will you marry me, Y/n?”

“You bet your boots I will.” I removed my hands from my mouth wiping away the heavy happy tears that had began falling down my face.

Kayce slipped the ring on my finger barely giving me time to admire it when he scooped me up into his arms. I squealed as he twirled me around in a few circles of laughter coming from the both of us finally sitting me down on the wooden floor.

I tucked hair behind my ear, eyeing the ring on my left finger. “Kayce, you didn’t have to buy me a ring.”

“Funny enough I didn’t buy that ring.” He shrugged his shoulders with a light chuckle.

I felt like my voice went to a higher tone. “Huh?”

“I can clear up your confusion, dear.” John came to stand beside his youngest son placing a hand on his shoulder sending me a proud grin with tearful eyes. “That ring was bought years ago by me when I proposed to my wife Evelyn. It’s her ring that I passed down to him.”

I felt more tears slipping down my face, stepping around my fiancé so I could hug my father in law. “Thank you so much, John. I’m honored to call you my father in law.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to become my daughter in law for a long time.” He hugged me back and I mirrored his smile. Kayce opened his arms for me and I raced forward where he picked me up off the ground when I wrapped my legs around his waist.

Kayce led me outside for me to see two horses standing at the end of the wooden stairs. He took me to my horse and climbed on our separate horses with me following Kayce on horseback wherever he was leading me. I knew most of the ranch yet where we stopped I had never been before. “Kayce, where are we exactly?”

“It’s a place I don’t go too often. This - this is where my mother got killed on her horse.” He explained to me slowly walking up to the fence holding my hand in his until we reached the fence.

I squeezed his hand, sending him a weak expression. “Kayce, I’m sorry.”

“It's okay. I told myself that when I found the right girl for me. I'd take her to meet my mom.” He explained simply looking down into my eyes.

A question fell from my lips. “You never took Monica here?”

“Given my fathers reaction got me branded. I figured my mother wouldn't have liked to hear I knocked up a girl in high school.” He rubbed the back of his neck, throwing his head back pushing that memory away about the brand. “Besides she clearly wasn't the one for me. You are, Y/n L/n.”

“To be honest I’ve been waiting for you to say those words for a while, Kayce Dutton.” I turned to face the cowboy draping my arms around his neck nuzzling my nose against his own.

He grinned down at me, wrapping his arms around my waist tugging my body against his chest connecting his lips with my own. “Well I’ve been waiting far too long to call you wife, my darling, my Mrs. Dutton.” Leaning my body into the kiss we stumbled slightly into the wooden fence just getting lost in kissing the other.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[willowsnook]

next garage over

hiiii! can I request a fic where reader used to date oscar but ends up with lando instead? tyyy <3

a/n: tbh: I hate this trope, but I tried my best

lando norris x reader

Lando Norris was currently setting off every alarm bell in your head.

After the painful breakup with his teammate, you had sworn you’d never fall for another driver. It wasn’t worth it. You had loved Oscar, but ultimately, he would never love you more than he loved racing.

As much as your dramatic heart had wished for a movie-worthy breakup scene, reality had been far less cinematic. You both knew your relationship had run its course. It hurt—of course, it did—but there were tears on both sides, and in the end, it had been civil.

A big reason for that was your shared friend group. You knew you’d still see Oscar around, and surprisingly, he had remained a good friend, just not a close one. The void he left had somehow been filled by someone else.

Lando.

Funny enough, you had grown close to him while you were dating Oscar. Now, he was the one you sent memes to at random hours. His side of the garage was where you hovered on race weekends. He was your new partner for game nights.

At first, you chalked it up to Lando being a good friend, supporting you through the breakup. But lately, it felt like something more.

You were in Monaco for the Grand Prix when Alex brought it up.

"Do you think Oscar is okay with you and Lando?" he asked casually.

You shot him a confused look as you lounged in Williams hospitality, waiting for Lando to finish a meeting.

"Okay with what? Us being friends?" you asked, tilting your head.

Alex gave you a pointed stare.

"More like okay with the fact that you clearly want to be together."

Your face flushed instantly. "Me and Lando? We're just friends. Nothing more."

"Right," Alex drawled. "Because friends definitely spend every second together. And they definitely look at each other like that. And touch each other like—"

"What are you talking about, Alex? We don’t touch each other!" you exclaimed. A passing mechanic raised an eyebrow at your outburst, and you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

Alex only smirked. "We'll see when he gets here."

You rolled your eyes, determined to prove him wrong.

Then Lando walked in.

His eyes immediately found you, and his face lit up.

"Y/n!" he called, jogging over. Without hesitation, he wrapped you in a warm hug. You melted into him, suddenly hyper-aware of every point of contact. When you pulled away, his hand lingered on your lower back, sending a shiver down your spine.

"How was the meeting?" you asked, trying to sound normal.

"Boring," Lando groaned. "I missed you."

Your cheeks burned. Out of the corner of your eye, Alex smirked like he had just won a bet.

Oscar joined a moment later, his eyes flickering to Lando’s hand still resting on you. His expression was unreadable, as if he was piecing something together.

"Ready to go?" Lando asked, snapping Oscar out of his thoughts.

Oscar blinked, nodded at his teammate, and shot you a soft smile.

Neither Lando nor Oscar had ended up on the podium, but your friends still wanted to celebrate. The club was buzzing with energy, music pulsing through the air as you danced with the others.

Lando sat back in the section your group had claimed, his eyes fixed on you as you moved.

"You don’t have to pretend for my sake," Oscar said, sliding into the seat next to him.

Lando turned sharply, caught off guard. "Pretend about what?"

Oscar snorted. "I know you like her. Everyone besides her knows you like her. It’s okay."

Lando hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t want to make things weird."

Oscar chuckled. "Bit late for that, mate. If it bothered me, I would’ve said something the first time you started looking at her like a lost puppy."

"I don’t look at her like that," Lando mumbled.

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Sure." He took a sip of his drink before adding, "Look, we were never meant to last. We’re better as friends. I want you both to be happy."

Lando sat in silence, processing his words. His gaze drifted back to you, twirling around with Alex and George, laughing. When you spotted him watching, you beamed and waved.

His heart clenched.

"Go on," Oscar nudged him. "Go dance with her."

Lando hesitated for only a moment before standing.

As he reached you, you grinned. "Finally decided to join us?"

"Yeah, well, someone had to keep an eye on you," he teased.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the dance floor. But once there, he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled you close—closer than before. Your breath hitched.

Alex smirked knowingly.

"What are you doing?" you whispered.

"Dancing," Lando murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

And the most concerning thing?

It felt natural. Like your bodies belonged together.

You let yourself fall into the moment, into him, moving in sync like this was always meant to happen. The music thumped around you, but it faded to the background. It was just Lando—his hands on your waist, his warmth, his forehead nearly touching yours.

And then, like he couldn’t help himself, he whispered, "I don’t want to be just your friend anymore."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. This wasn’t teasing. This wasn’t just a dance.

This was everything shifting.

You pulled back, startled. "Lando…"

Guilt crept in. Oscar was his teammate. They spent so much time together. And what if it ended the same way? Lando loved racing too. You didn’t want to be someone’s second choice again.

"I need a second," you mumbled, slipping away.

You found an exit and walked toward the pier, the cool night air helping to clear your thoughts.

Not long after, someone joined you.

"Hey," Oscar’s voice was soft. "What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?"

You smiled faintly at the familiar term of endearment. "Anything and everything, it seems."

Oscar was quiet for a moment before saying, "You two are good together. Way better than we ever were."

"I don’t want to make things weird," you admitted.

"Funny," he smirked. "Someone else said the exact same thing. And I told him the same thing I’m telling you—if it bothered me, you’d know. I want you to be happy."

You hesitated. "What if it ends up like us? What if I come second to racing again?"

Oscar flinched, and you instantly regretted your words.

"You do realize he’s been a driver this entire time, right?" he pointed out. "Has he ever made you feel like you weren’t a priority?"

You thought about it.

Lando always made time for you, even during race weekends. He called after long days, sent you memes during boring meetings, and made sure to see you whenever you were at the track.

You swallowed hard. "I… guess you’re right."

Oscar smiled. "Yeah. Now stop overthinking and go talk to him. He’s probably freaking out right now."

Right on cue, footsteps approached. You turned, meeting Lando’s anxious gaze.

"If you don’t feel the same way, I can take it back," he rushed out. "I don’t want to lose our friendship. You’re the best part of my life, and it was stupid of me to mess with that—"

You cut him off with a kiss.

His hands found your waist, holding you like he was afraid to let go. You melted into him, your lips moving in sync, your heart hammering in your chest.

When you finally pulled away, you whispered, "Don’t take it back."

Lando grinned. "Never."

[billythesimp]

*BASHES DOWN DOOR* I HEARD RQ WERE OPEN

Okay here me out, Lycaon with a rabbit or cat (you decide) thiren that tried to argue with him at any chance they get. But that's because they don't know how else to act around him because of their HUGE crush on him. Basically you're typical tsundere.

That's about it, BACK INTO MY CORNER. NO PRESSURE TO DO THIS AND TAKE YOUR TIME BESTIE

-AJ🐺

Well, Well, Well~ [insert evil laughter here]

If it isn't my fellow proxy, AJ. Thank you for leaving me a request, I do appreciate the support so I put my whole Badussy into this request.

Smooches, see you soon!

Cat And Dog Fights

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…

Before I started detailing this request, I did a funny 10 pull on the standard banner. I now have C1 Von, so I dedicate this post for the good luck of those who want Von Lycaon to come home. Bless Bless, Wolf ass.

Lycaon x Cat-Thiren-gn!reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡…⋙

tw: Little OOc, mention of Rina's cooking /j

✦ Lycaon likes to think himself a patient man- or werewolf. He can handle Corwin’s self deprecation. He can handle Ellen’s overwhelming bored and teen rebellious phase. Rina’s cooking and antics, I’m pretty sure he puts up with, though barely. However, with this new addition to their team, he acknowledges the huge- HUGE elephant in the room. This cat thirens disobedience and clear dislike towards him, their boss. And while it’s fine when it’s outside the job, they work efficiently and swiftly when on their jobs, though they always seek to peeve him off at times, a cunning glare in their eyes when they look back at him, how they run forwards to finish his own enemies as to show off. It’s their defiance that creates problems as he can’t help but think they are trying to prove that their are better. 

✦ And usually he won’t complain, after all he hired them for their potential and knows what he’s getting into, but lately they’ve been chipping away at his patients, their coy antics getting under his fur, having to restrain a low growl when they purposely interrupt him or act out of line in front of guest or their masters. The reason Rina can only giggle behind her palm while staring at the two of them stare each other down, another one of their pity arguments being the center of attention. Creative backhanded compliments shared between the two as Corwin tries to calm the two, Ellen holding the girl back in amusement.

✦ Honestly, Lycaon can’t help but be slightly disappointed, he sees his employees as family, so to see one with a clear disdain for him makes him pout in private, seeming gloomy as his tail thumps and ears pinned back. Rina has to comfort him, all the while encouraging him to cheer up. Offering him a meal which he refuses, stating he wasn’t hungry. Though Rina can only ask that he give it his best try to be the bigger person and treat them kindly, for they don’t know what they could be going through.

✦ That being said, Rina is hiding more then she’s leading on, one second in Lycaon’s office to comfort him and then another in a private sitting quarters with said Cat thiren, brushing their hair and scratching behind their ears while listening to their childish rant- more like them denying their feelings. 

▿

While sitting before Rina’s small puppets, they paw and rack the little phantoms on their heads, watching them evade their attacks before being pulled back towards Rina’s lap. Having to sit still was difficult enough, but Rina promised to comb their hair and get it nice and pleasant for their next trip. “Ah, you need to take better care of yours. Lycaon will scold you if your headpiece isn’t perfectly centered- or in one piece in general.” She giggled before properly setting the cutest fabric on their head and giving their ears a little scratch.

“Eh, who cares what he thinks. He can just fix it himself if it bothers him so much.” With a hiss, their tail thumps besides them before they use it as a distraction from their overwhelming thoughts on said werewolf. “Oh, I think you do actually care about his thoughts on you.”

“Ehehe- Yeah you do!”

“Sir Lycaon, did you see that! Hehehe”

“Oh Sir Lycaon, see how great I am!”

“Great! Great!”

“H-HEY SHUT IT!” The cat hisses at the teasing from the little boos, Drusilla and Anastella spinning around before returning to Rina’s figure, avoiding the nasty glare said cat was giving them. “Now, now kitty. No more fighting- you already do enough of that with Von,” Smiling before moving them to sit upright, the figure before her slumping again and leaving her to adjusting them again til they stay, “Though, you know if it’s attention and praise you want, maybe fighting less with the boss would actually get you the results you want.”

“Pffm, as if.” They only pout to themselves, muttering quietly as Rina takes out a needle and starts stichting up their uniform where little tears and rips had formed. Whether from their battles or their tendies to claw at the fabric when they don’t know what to do with their hands. “Even if I wanted it, I don’t even know what I would say…”

“Oh, and what makes you think that kitty? Von would be more than delighted to compliment your achievements, after all he looks highly of you. You’re an amazing servant here, he couldn’t be more proud of your growth. He told me himself.” While she gushed her Boss’s supposed claims, the thiren’s tail swayed quicker then before, the adorable pout on their face turned into that of an embarrassed frown, afraid to speak out of fear of word vomiting. “Oh Kitty, promise you’ll try to be nicer to Lycaon. As much as I adore your little cat-dog fights, I would like it if you both got along much more.” 

They yelp as Rina ‘accidently’ poked them with the needle, ears flatten as they only mumble out a silent promise. Blushing as they think of how they could try to be nicer, distracted at how Lycaon would react to their change in demeanor, tail returning to playfully bat Rina’s hand while lost in deep thought.

▿

✦ After this conversation, Lycaon finally notices the little changes in their Cat’s behavior. Offering a hand in his tasks, though they still have their little backhanded comments, they are obedient nonetheless. He could tell that they seem to be warming up to him again, not running away from him as much and willing to calm down and listen instead of enlightening another fight between wolf and cat. Really, He’s glad they have improved since then, also making an effort to respect his fellow thiren and help them however he can. 

✦ He sees how much they enjoy the headpats and scratches the girls give them, how they have a subtle purr from the affection and praise they give them. So after a mission complete, satisfied with their work today, he gives them a little head pat and congratulates them on the great. While at first they don’t respond at first, tired from the day's events, they suddenly perk up and jolt away, rambling an indescribable comment and turning tail to run off into their safe house. He can only tilt his head, tail wagging as he couldn’t help but enjoy just how soft their hair is.

[rose24207]

Like a kiss

Summary: after coming to terms that his girlfriend is a ghost, a new routine builds.

Genre: fluff

Lando x ghost!f!reader

TW: mention of death

A/N: get ready for a new series!! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist pt. 2

The soft hum of morning filled the apartment as Lando shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He yawned, stretching his arms above his head, before grabbing a mug from the cabinet.

"Morning, love," he said casually, his voice still rough with sleep.

The kitchen light flickered once, and Lando smiled to himself. He knew what that meant: good morning.

It had been almost a year since Y/N passed, and Lando had gone through every stage of grief imaginable. There were nights when the loneliness was unbearable, and mornings when the silence was deafening. But then she started making her presence known—little things at first, like the lights flickering or her favorite mug being moved to the counter.

It scared him at first, thinking he was losing his mind. But over time, he realized it wasn’t just wishful thinking. She was still here, in her own way, and they had developed a rhythm that felt almost normal.

"Coffee or tea today?" he asked, glancing toward the light fixture.

The light flickered twice. Tea.

"Tea it is," he said, grabbing the kettle and filling it with water.

As he waited for it to boil, he leaned against the counter, looking around the apartment. It was still very much the same as when Y/N was alive—her touch was everywhere, from the throw pillows on the couch to the photo frames on the walls. He couldn’t bring himself to change much.

"You know," Lando said, his voice filling the quiet space, "I think I'm getting better at this whole cooking thing. Carlos and Max came over the other day, and they actually liked the pasta I made."

The light flickered once, and he laughed. "I know, right? Shocking. I didn’t even burn the garlic this time."

The kettle whistled, and Lando poured the hot water over the tea bag in her favorite mug. He set it on the counter across from his coffee, the same way he used to when they’d have breakfast together.

"I have media duties later," he said, sitting down at the counter. "You’d hate it. Same questions over and over again. ‘How do you feel about the car?’ ‘What’s your strategy for the weekend?’ Blah, blah, blah."

The light flickered twice quickly, and Lando grinned. "Exactly. It’s so boring."

He sipped his coffee, glancing at the chair across from him. It was empty, of course, but he could almost picture her sitting there, wrapped in one of his hoodies, her hair still messy from sleep.

"You know," he said softly, "I think about you all the time. Sometimes it feels like you’re just in the other room, and if I wait long enough, you’ll walk out and tell me I’m being lazy."

The light flickered once, and he smiled, though his chest ached.

After finishing his coffee, he rinsed the mug and set it in the sink. He grabbed his keys and wallet from the counter and paused by the door.

"Alright, I’m heading out," he said, turning back toward the apartment. "Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone."

The lights flickered twice, and Lando chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you later."

Later that evening, Lando returned home, the day’s exhaustion settling in his bones. He kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door, running a hand through his curls.

"I’m home!" he called out, the words instinctual.

The lamp in the living room flickered, and he smiled.

Dinner was a simple affair—just leftovers from the night before. As he ate, he talked about his day, recounting funny moments from the track and updates from the team. It was a one-sided conversation, but the occasional flicker of the lights or soft creak of the floorboards reminded him that she was listening.

After dinner, he cleaned up and settled on the couch with a blanket. He turned on the TV, flipping through channels until he landed on a Series they used to love watching together.

"Look," he said, holding up the remote. "It’s Teen Wolf. Your favorite."

The lamp flickered twice, and Lando laughed. "Alright, my second favorite. But you liked it enough to watch it a million times with me."

He sank into the couch, the familiar intro of the Series playing in the background. It was almost like old times—the glow of the TV, the soft warmth of the blanket, and the comforting feeling of not being alone.

As the fourth episode that evening ended, Lando stretched, his limbs heavy with sleep. He turned off the TV and stood, heading toward the bedroom.

The room was dimly lit, the bedside lamp casting a soft glow over the space. Lando changed into his pajamas and slid under the covers, letting out a content sigh.

"Goodnight, love," he murmured, his eyes already closing.

The lamp flickered once, and for a moment, he swore he felt the faintest brush of warmth against his cheek—like a kiss.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he drifted off to sleep, comforted by the knowledge that she was still there, watching over him.

It wasn’t the life they had planned, but it was theirs, and in its own way, it was enough.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Long time no see 🫣 I have a request! 70s!Elvis going down on the reader except she can’t stop giggling because his sideburns tickle her inner thighs? 

A/N: Hey babygirl! Sorry this has taken a while. This request is so cute and hot I love it.

Dedicated Follower of Fashion

Pairing: 70s!E x reader

Word count: 955

TWs: Little hint of finDom, teasing, reader calls Elvis Daddy, outrageous amount of tickling, oral.

“This dress is a gift, baby,” Elvis coos as he pulls the zipper down on your minidress. It’s handily located on the front rather than the back, and it goes all the way from the top to the bottom. 

“Well you did give it to me,” you tease back, giggling and blushing a little at the way he’s staring at your body as he uncovers it. 

“I did, didn’t I?” He finishes unzipping you, and lets out a little sigh of satisfaction. “Good choice.” He runs a finger over the edge of your lacey bra and then lets it travel down your body until it lands on your panties. “D’I give ya these too, honey?”

“Of course you did. Around the time you told me I had to wear matching sets. It was only fair.”

He chuckles as he helps you get your arms out of your dress. “You’re right. If I want it I should pay for it.”

You let out a little moan at his words and then at the feeling of his lips on your skin, kissing your neck in the way he knows you like. His big hands run all over your skin, tantalising you with their closeness to your most sensitive parts; a thumb touching a nipple here, his fingers ghosting over the outside of your panties there. 

“Mmmm, Daddy,” you mumble, feeling a little teased. 

“Yes, baby,” he replies, his lips finding your belly button. 

“Can you… go a little lower?” You ask. 

He chuckles, his tongue poking out to lick you far higher up than you were hoping. “Like this?”

You shake your head. “Lower.”

He licks down from your belly button to the edge of your panties. “Here?”

“Lower,” you pout. 

His eyes are sparkling with mirth, and you can tell he’s enjoying winding you up, as usual. 

“Lower? Oh my, that’s naughty, little girl.”

You wriggle, moving your hips from side to side to try to persuade him to move. “Please?”

“Well since ya asked so nicely…” He suddenly moves with lightning speed, sliding your panties off in one smooth movement and settling himself between your legs, licking a stripe up your aching pussy. 

You let out a long moan, your legs closing automatically around his head. Grinning against you, he presses sloppy wet kisses to your pussy as his hands grip your thighs. Your hips buck into his face, wanting more. You have absolutely no patience for being teased, which is probably what inspires him to do it so often. He loves to watch you turn into a begging, pleading mess for him. Starting to slide his tongue up and down, he moves his head with it and suddenly he hears your unmistakable girlish giggle. 

Pausing he looks up to see you have your hand clapped over your mouth, trying not to laugh. “What’s so funny?” He asks, and the words buzz against you, making you let out another little moan. 

“Y-you’re tickling me,” you manage, eventually, moving your hand away and looking sheepish. 

“Ticklin’ ya? How?” He starts to move his head again and your giggling returns. 

“Y-y-your sideburns… hahaha….they’re tickling my thighs!”

Elvis grins and deliberately rubs the side of his head against your thigh just enough to keep you giggling. You thrash and try to move your legs away, but he scoops an arm around each and holds them where he wants them. Tickling you seems like it might be fun. 

“D-daddy!” You exclaim, as he continues the combination of licking and tickling. 

“Can’t help it,” he mumbles as he moves to suck on your clit now, eliciting a loud moan. “Price I have ta pay for bein’ fashionable.”

You yelp as he deliberately wiggles his head, sending shock waves of pleasure through your body at the same time as tickling your skin. 

“The price you have to pay?” You squeak as he repeats the movement, enjoyng your response. 

“Mmm yeah, yer gettin’ all unruly…” he explains as he nips you now. “Haveta try an’ keep ya in line.”

“You’re d-deliberately… hahahaha…. deliberately t-tickling m-me…” you stutter out between giggles, feeling completely helpless now, desperately trying to suck in air between laughing fits. 

“Would I do that?” Elvis asks, popping his head up and giving you his best innocent face. 

“You are doing that!” You respond, exasperated, overstimulated and bordering on the hysterical. 

He chuckles, putting his head back between your legs and rubbing the sides of it against the inside of first one thigh, then the other, like a cat. 

“Ahhhhhh!” You scream. 

His apple cheeks are prominent as he looks at you again, tongue sticking out of his mouth a little, eyes full of mirth. 

“Sorry, honey. Ya want me ta stop?”

“PLEASE.”

He laughs again, and although he’s half tempted to do it again, he decides maybe you really have had enough. 

“Alright then.”

Pushing your legs open, he goes to work on your pussy, licking and sucking until you’re completely insensible, hands thrown above your head, moaning out his name like a prayer. Knowing you must be close, he slides two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that special place. It’s all you need to tip you over the edge, and you find yourself grabbing his head as your hips buck into his face, pulling his hair and continuing to moan. 

Flopping back, exhausted, you let his head go and sigh softly. He smiles, running teasing, tickling fingers up the inside of your thigh and then along your side. You twitch and squeak. 

“El!”

Still chuckling to himself, he lays down next to you, throwing a casual arm across your torso. 

“Sorry, honey,” he replies, his face serious. “I jus’ never realised ya were so ticklish…”

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