#nothingness will be such a relief

[ovaruling]

negative self talk incoming for whoever needs that idek

regular daily update that i regret having my like 99999 cosmetic surgeries so much and i dont even want to put the exhaustive energy into accepting my face and body atp anymore bc they remain utter strangers who i hate

and despite all of the feminist theory i have read and comprehended and applied to the way i see the world i STILL cannot rid myself of this very specific form of self-hatred and im not even being defeatist when i say i truly know that i will never be at peace bc of the choices i have made. like how can i ever be ok with this. i’d have to be lobotomized to be cool with this

and even besides that the chronic physical pain and damage to my actual nervous system won’t allow me a moment of forgetfulness. like on an amazing day where i’m full of caffeine or xanax i can MAYBE forget what i look like for an hour but it’s impossible to forget that i literally cant physically feel my entire torso and abdomen and buttocks and my upper back and my inner thighs and upper arms and underarms and my jaw and cheeks

but also at the same time i can feel incredible levels of stabbing numb shocks of pain in all of them lmfao.

exercising helps for a bit and reminds me that i can at least move my body around but i always gotta come back to reality where i have to confront that i’m genuinely permanently ill and legitimately brain damaged. like neurologically

and bc of that i went from being a normal adult 10 years ago to now i cant hold a job, cant go back and attend school, cant drive a car anymore, need IV treatments weekly, no independence, no ability to even volunteer for longer than an hour at local animal shelters before i start having problems bc i cant explain to anyone why i need to lie down every 2 hours or else i legitimately go numb and pass out no matter how little exertion im doing, no future where i can help the world the way i want to. i cant even read 2 chapters of a fucking favorite book that i LOVE without getting dizzy for no fuckjng reason. i have to REST from reading a fucking BOOK

and doctors are just like “oh well that’s what happens when you fucking almost die two times from elective surgery lol kinda your fault tbh. you really should’ve just accepted how viciously hated by men your body was. but the human body is so mysterious huh!!! like this is crazy dude lmao. 🤪 so yeah here’s a pamphlet for a support group that doesn’t really fit your needs and some medication that won’t work bc we still don’t really know how to diagnose or treat plastic surgery victims like this bc technically you weren’t in a car crash or anything so we don’t really have enough research rn to fully apprehend what’s going on w your mysterious ass. also you had more surgeries than most ppl ever will be stupid enough to undertake so like we have no idea what to do w you lol!!!!!! there isn’t really data that fits your situation but maybe in 30 years 😌”

just in case anyone was wondering if i changed my mind on cosmetic surgery being true evil!!!!!! lol

ok sorry for the pity party i just really am feeling the weight of it all rn

[ehj3]

MEDDLING KIDS

“Every man, it seems, interprets the world in the light of his habits and desires” but also “The world of most men is given to them by their culture” ― Richard Wright, The Outsider I was originally gonna try to make this political, you know, have the suit and siren in it, Uncle Sam and Lady Liberty, too, I even thought I could fit tr*mp and some MAGAs in. But that was too much of a stretch. I…

[jaynasti69]

Death Way

[kruegerspillow]

simon riley who just needs to be understood. that's all. one whole jar of pity wouldn't do it, he needs you to acknowledge him. and, when you do, he'll surrender himself faster than he should.

The rain pours down heavily against the roof, the sound of pitter-patters humming throughout your house.

It had been weeks ever since Simon's leave and the sudden change hits you harder than a damn truck. It's just going to be a few weeks, he wrote down in the letter. But, you never really believed him, no. Fuck, you know he'd do anything (that includes lying) just for you to be at ease.

Though, the bed felt colder than before. Your place felt even more... tense, with the feeling of unease running through your body and the unusual, eerie silence. His job wasn't an easy one, and with the fact that his life is on the line, it made it worse.

Your heartbeat quickened as you looked down at your phone, scrolling through the messages and pictures Simon had sent the other day. You don't understand how soldiers could be so composed in the middle of the battlefield, including Simon himself. You'd be damned if you heard a single gunshot ringing across you.

Suddenly, the familiar sound of a car engine knocked you out of your trance. Your head perked up, a feeling of hope sparking up in your weary heart. Could it be him? You thought to yourself. He's earlier than usual.

You placed your phone on the table, gaze locking onto the front door as you leaned back against the armrest of the couch, a pillow pressed against your back. The sound of the engine eventually came to a stop, then—

Click.

There he was. Simon motherfuckin' Riley.

He took off his boots and placed them aside as soon as he met your gaze. The smell of rain and dirt lingered around him, but he didn't care anymore. Not when the love of his life is right in front of him, waiting patiently to be placed into his embrace. But, he's fuckin' exhausted, and he can't help but let the feeling of fatigue take over his body.

He closed the door behind him, walking towards you with a look of deep longing and care. His bags were left right beside the front door. Your eyes travelled over his figure, searching for any new scars or wounds.

"Bloody 'ell, I missed ya s'much." He murmured, his voice raspy and carried a handful of emotions.

Before you knew it, he plopped down onto you, head resting against your plump thighs, earning an amused gasp from you. His arms softly wrapped around your waist, slipping underneath your shirt before caressing your bare skin. You sighed in content, relaxing beneath him before your hands made their way to his hair, running your fingers through his hair.

"Welcome home, Simon." You greeted him, your voice filled with warmth and relief.

He grunted in response, burying his face between your thigh, causing you to nearly whimper in response. But you knew he ran out of the energy, having finished a tiring deployment. Your gaze softened at the sight before you. Sometimes, even the strongest souls get exhausted.

"Want me to make tea for you, love?" You softly whispered into his ear.

He shook his head, wanting to hold you just for a while (that's a lie. He'd go through the whole month burying his face into you) and you understood, staying silent as you embraced him. You let him do his thing and fuck he was turned on by that mere fact. But, for now, lust was long forgotten, buried away by the need of your comfort and warmth.

Your hands gently massaged his tense shoulder, feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch. Slowly, his vision fades into nothingness, for your touch has provided comfort even to the soul of the corrupt. Surrendering himself into sleep had never felt so... easy.

And, soon, he'll show you just how lucky he is to have you.

kruegerspillow © 2024 ➵ do not feed my work into ai, repost or translate my work. Reblogs are much appreciated ୨ৎ

[rafescvntyclubgf]

⭐ Republished ⭐

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟑

𝟿.𝟼𝙺 𝚃𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝

3.8k

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚟𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

📖 Rafe is your boyfriend… You just don’t know it yet.

⚠️ warnings contain spoliers ⚠️

swearing, Stalking, pet names, degradation, namecalling, public masturbation, dark!rafe, mean!rafe, perv!rafe, mentions of cum play, mentions of unprotected P in V, ownership kink, mentions of rough oral, violence, threats, blackmail, fighting, blood, gore, mentions of sextortion, Rafe sneaks into the reader’s room, panty stealing, panty sniffing, takes pictures of the reader’s private images, cum tasting, oral male receiving, oral female receiving, twist dark reader, mutual obsession, rough oral, gagging, kissing, reader doesn’t ask rafe if he wants to go further than oral but he does and she starts anyway, messy sex, squirting, praise, drinking, smoking, mentions of drug use

✨ “Just do it, baby girl,” I moan, watching as she pinches her top button. I grab mine as well, tugging it open with her. I hiss at the sensation of my rock-hard cock in my hand, feeling some relief. This is the first time I’ve touched myself all day. I was edging myself as I studied her Instagram and TikTok page, saving my favorites to my phone. When I saw her in the parking lot, I swear I could have cum untouched. ✨

Rafe’s POV:

“So, class. What does its structure contribute to the poem “Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night?” The professor drones on, sliding her reading glasses down her nose as she looks out onto the lecture hall. I shrink in my seat slightly, along with the other boys, doing my best to avoid her gaze.

Required reading, my ass. Did she honestly expect us to read this shit on a Thursday night? Barely drug my ass outta bed for class. Thank fuckin’ god. I relax in my seat as one of the front-row nerds saves the basic population who doesn’t give a fuck.

“Repetition. The poet used it to stress his key theme for his readers.”

I nod, scribbling a little line of nothingness on my paper, keeping up with the facade. That shit went in one ear and out the next. “Hey, Cameron.” My frat brother elbows me on the side. “You good for the kegs?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. What else can daddy get you?” I sneer as I roll my eyes at Billy, who laughs and scoffs. “I get paid back first, plus 10%. Get me a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle; I ain’t drinkin’ Coors, and I ain’t pickin’ that shit up either.”

“Thanks, daddy,” he responds in a breathy voice, snatching the wad of cash off my hands. “We need ten kegs between the Deltas and Phi Mu… You good for that-”

“Fuck you, ‘Am I good for that’?” I cut him short through a breathy laugh. “You’re holdin’ the cash in your hands, bitch. Stop askin’. Add an extra 5% for questionin’ me-”

“Rafe.” My stomach sinks as my professor’s eyes zero in on mine. “Am I interrupting something?” The old bird cocks an eyebrow, her annoyance visible, matching my own.

“No,” I answer simply, crossing my arms across my chest and relaxing at my desk.

“Splendid. I assume you know the answer then. Correct?” She challenges me, trying to catch me off guard. A smirk pulls on her lips as she does just that. Cunt.

“I agree.”

“The key insight about death in the poem is, ‘I agree’?” She belittles. I stare at her blankly, blinking a few times to let her know she’s wasting her time. She’s not gettin’ shit out of me. I’ve got an A in this class, bitch. What’re you gonna do about it?

She chuckles weakly, shaking her head at my resistance. “Am I wrong, ma’am? I have a bit of conversational anxiety… If you’d like to repeat the question, I’d love to try again,” I ask through a shit-eating smirk, letting my sarcasm drip all the way through, irritating her even more.

“Anyone else?” She invites in a shrill voice as she dismisses me, looking around the room to find another. Some of my frat brothers snicker in the back, making the professor’s features even more rigid. “Miss. Y/n?” Her demeanor changes instantly, shaking off my defiance, moving on to another one of her perfect pets.

Who’s that?

Holy shit. I swallow hard, feeling my mouth dry up as I see her. She twiddles her fluffy pink pen, acknowledging the teacher with a smile. Y/n? Jesus fuckin’ Christ. How have I never seen her before? I watch as a football player shuffles down the row of the lecture hall. My question, answered in a moment as his broad shoulders cut off my line of sight. No. I stretch back, cranking my neck to get her in my sights again.

“The key insight’s that death should be fought against, even though it is inevitable.” Her beautiful voice fills the lecture hall like a song. The teacher smiles at her again, praising y/n for her correct answer. Y/n grins and nods, averting her eyes as she catches the room’s focus. Her cheeks blush the prettiest shade of pink, matching her glossy lips.

Those lips… I lick my own, thinking about the way they would look wrapped around my cock, drool running down her chin as she deepthroats my dick. I’d grip that little ponytail like a handlebar, using her mouth like a toy. I chuckle at myself, still surprised that my mind went there almost instantly, but I know myself too well. I am who I am.

Y/n looks so goddamn innocent… Not for long. She’s a slut for praise. I can tell. I can work with that.

My eyes work lower, following the curve of her cleavage in her low-cut shirt. Fuck, I can’t wait to get her on top; watch ‘em bounce in my face. I’m gonna cum all over her perfect rack. Tiddie fuck her while she cries for daddy’s dick. Smear that shit- “Earth to Rafe?” I grit my teeth as I’m torn from my fantasy. “Buddy, you good?” Billy chuckles, his voice taunting as he follows my focus to her. “Mmm… Y/n,” he sighs blissfully. “So fuckin’ hot, bro. She’s a Phi Mu girl.”

“No shit?”

“Mhmm… Transferred from LSU. Smart, funny, sexy… But she’s mine, buddy. Aight? Been layin’ down groundwork all semester.” He elbows me playfully, chuckling to himself, actually believing his own words.

“All semester, and you haven’t made a move?” I spit, eyes rolling in his direction. This whole conversation is laughable. Has he been sitting on this all semester? Really? She was mine the second I looked at her, buddy. You’re done.

“Long game,” he defends himself.

“Long game?” I scoff. “Doesn’t sound like you got any game at all...”

“Hey. Fuck off… I know she wants me. Her bedroom faces mine and she doesn’t even close the curtains when she changes anymore; she texts me all the time. See?” He gloats as he thumbs through his phone. I don’t even bother myself with the semantics. Why the fuck does that shit matter? What’s he gettin’ at? “I’m gonna help ‘em after class. They have some car wash fundraiser downtown.”

Is that so? “I like the sound of that,” I smile, feeling my cock growing stiff in my jeans at the thought of seeing her in next to nothing, wet and soapy no less.

“You can’t just take her from me, Rafe,” Billy mutters in annoyance. A laugh rumbles in my chest as I take in his empty words. “I’m not fuckin’ around. She’s mine.”

My head turns slowly in his direction as he bends in mine. I mean, the guy’s big, but I’m bigger. He can fight, but he’s not willing to see that shit through. Billy’s got that moral compass that urges him to stop where I couldn’t care less. And he knows it.

He balls his hands up in fists at his desk, jaw tightening as he does his best to intimidate me one last time. My boy’s a bitch.

“Mine.”

I study her movements as she glides through the halls. Her hair bounces with each step brushing along her backpack, half-hiding her perfect ass. Her bum shakes a little as she walks, just a tease for me. Y/n slight skirt grazes just a few inches below her ass, leaving her bare legs on display.

I wonder what they’d look like over my shoulder… Spread wide on my bed as I devoured her perfect pussy. Damn. I bet she makes some pretty sounds. I can’t wait to hear that, to see her face, as she squirts all over my mouth and cock.

Where are you going, pretty girl?

She hooks a left, heading toward the coffee shop. I continue to follow my girl, watching as she strolls inside. Y/n walks toward the line, stalling next to the case of pastries, eyeing the bottom. Do it for daddy, baby. C’mon. There you go… She drops down, surveying the options. That goddamn ass… Does she know I’m watching? She’s gotta know. The paisley material tugs higher on her thighs, a peek of her round ass poking out the bottom.

She stands up again, taking another step, moving with the traffic flow. Y/n reaches into her purse, pulling out her phone. She smiles as she looks at the screen. Billy Hargrove 💕. I feel my heart pick up pace, my breathing quickening; rage boils inside me.

I gave him an order. This shit’s not up to him. I roll the tension out of my neck, fingers twisting into fists of my own. Where’s the fucking loyalty? She bites her bottom lip and smiles at the message, making me physically ill.

I’ve got distracted by her… Say somethin’ to make her forget about that.

“Uh, hey,” I rasp. Y/n continues to type up a little message. “Y/n?” I reach out, resting my hand on her arm.

“Oh, hi… Umm, Rafe?” She says my name, making everything stand still. I look down at the beautiful eyes and soft, pouty lips, the corners of which curl into a sweet smile.

“Uh, yeah,” I answer, trying to level my tone. “We’re in class together.”

“Yeah… She’s kind of a bitch. Right?” Y/n asks weakly as her eyes soften on mine, showing me pity like my feelings might have been hurt by that little exchange between the professor and me.

“Yeah, she sucks,” I laugh lightly, tossing my head down in fake shame. “The boys and I got a little rowdy last night. I didn’t read that shit. Did you? I mean, obviously-”

“On my way to class,” she giggles as she looks around playfully for our professor.

My mouth falls into an open smile. “Naughty girl. Coast is clear, by the way,” I rasp through a little laugh.

“Good,” Y/n sighs as she tucks some hair behind her ear.

“You’re really smart.” I praise, watching her cheeks blushing again, this time closer than before, making my heart bang in my chest.

“Thank you. Oh, umm, you’re a Delta. Right?” She asks, solidifying her answer as she eyes the embroidery on my polo.

“I am. And you’re Phi Mu?” Y/n grins as she nods in reply. “I’m headed over to your car wash after this.”

“Awesome. Yeah, Lyndsey was worried that the University might question where the money came from if we made anything off selling beer tonight.”

“A cover-up?” I smile down at her as I stuff my hands in my jeans.

“Mhmm,” she breathes. “The party’s gonna be huge. Do you think we’ll get busted?”

I chuckle at the sweet nativity of her question. “‘Course we will. Over 500 students in one place… But it’s a block party. Right? So they won’t be able to pinpoint anybody. Not usin’ the frat’s money directly. Cash. The boys are gonna pay me back as they sell cups. Untraceable.”

“Aww. That’s so nice of you,” she smiles. Her demeanor hasn’t faltered since we’ve spoken. She doesn’t seem to care about the material shit; my Breitling watch, the gold rings on my fingers. Her face didn’t light up when I dropped the fact that I would buy beer for the masses. She just said it was nice… Fuck, she’s perfect.

“I try… But, if we get busted, I’ll blame it on some beautiful Phi girl I know.”

She gasps playfully, smacking me in the chest. “You wouldn’t!” Everything tenses in my body as I fight back my arousal, covering the growing excitement in my slacks with my notebook.

Y/n looks over my shoulder, catching the girl’s eyes behind me as she tells us to move forward. “Sorry,” Y/n sighs apologetically, clearing the open space between us and the register. Y/n steps up to the counter, ordering a latte and a muffin before reaching into her purse.

“Oh, shit. No. Sorry! Let me,” I breathe as I hurry to her side. “I’ll pay for whatever she’s havin’ and a coffee for me: one cream, one sugar. Thank you.”

“Wow. Thank you, Rafe. You didn’t need to do that,” she coos.

“No problem, y/n.”

Gifts… That’s what my girl likes.

Well, shit. She’s gonna need a grand gesture. I can sneak into her room tonight. Check the essentials: dress size, music taste; the little things she enjoys.

I’ll take a look at her nightstand. How could I not? Gotta know what she uses to please herself so I know what I’m working with and what it takes to get her there. I want to know her better than she knows herself.

I follow along, trying to keep my eyes on her face, but I can’t help but roam her body. I’ve never seen anything like it, never seen anything so perfect for me. I never wanted anything so bad.

The barista walks over, setting down my coffee. I suck my teeth, regretting my choice, knowing if I got the same shit as her, I could have stayed. But I shouldn’t. “I’ll come by. Yeah? Don’t kill me… I gotta big ass truck, and she’s dirty as shit.”

“No worries,” she smiles sweetly. “I’ll see you there, Rafe. Oh, and thanks for the coffee again.” She reaches out, resting her hand on my arm.

“Of course, sweetheart.” I test a pet name, watching her smile widen. Just gorgeous.

I step away, walking towards the door. Looking over my shoulder as Y/n pulls out her phone, that same smile for Billy setting on her perfect lips.

He’s fucking dead.

I pull up toward the parking lot, falling into the line of cars; a caravan of dicks with their windows already rolled down. Fuckin’ dogs. I lean out as well, surveying the scene looking for her. Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I watch the gaggle of girls prancing around in their bikinis, excitement building as I frantically look for her.

My heart skips as I see her sporting the most clothes, donning yet the sluttiest outfit of them all. She’s an absolute fuckin’ tease in her cut-off jean shorts and white t-shirt, soaked with water. The material clings to her curves, teasing me with her little triangle top, gathered slightly, barely covering her tits.

She leans over and reaches into the bucket, pulling out a sponge before ringing out the soap. A guy rolls down the window of his Mercedes, bending his neck to watch as she washes the side. I can already tell where this is goin’. He smirks, watching her ass as she leans down, cleaning the rear fender. “Aww, sweetheart,” he soughs, “Uhh…You missed a spot.” Y/n smiles sweetly, lowering to where she was before, making me huff out an aggravated breath.

Her friend walks over with a hose, spraying down the suds that y/n left behind. Tori Clarence, a late-night Delta regular. She says something that makes Y/n laugh. Y/n claps back, teasing her sister through a wicked smile. Tori lifts the gun, spraying y/n with a stream of water, hitting her directly on her tits.

Y/n gasps as her shirt turns from milky white to practically see-through, the chilly water running down her perfect body, making her nipple hard. She panics to get warm, reaching for the bottom of her shirt. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. She pulls it over her body: soft skin, perfect boobs, and wet hair. Little lines of water cascade down her bare skin, rounding her curves catching on the denim of her shorts. Her eyes fall down her body, eyeing her damp state.

“Just do it, baby girl,” I moan, watching as she pinches her top button. I grab mine as well, tugging it open with her. I hiss at the sensation of my rock-hard cock in my hand, feeling some relief. This is the first time I’ve touched myself all day. I was edging myself as I studied her Instagram and TikTok page, saving my favorites to my phone. When I saw her in the parking lot, I swear I could have cum untouched.

I start to fist my cock as she leans over the trunk, her body perfectly positioned like I’m taking her from the back. Goddamn. I’d snake my rough hand up her soft skin, following the curve of her arched spine, drifting into her hair. I’d pull it back, feeling her pussy clench around my big dick. I’d spank her, cracking her tight little ass with the palm of my hand, leaving her red and bruised. Just one of the many ways I’d mark my girl. “Fuck, Y/n,” I moan her name as heat radiates through my body.

She walks along the side of the next car, letting me see her little triangle top: light blue, thin material, the blush of nipples visible. I roll my hand over my tip, whimpering at the sensation, imagining myself hitting the back of her throat as tears pool in her pretty, innocent eyes. Y/n looking up at daddy, mascara running down her cheeks as she throats me like the slut I know she can be. I’d hold her head in my hands, using her mouth to stroke my cock. My perfect little toy…

Fuck. I got a Fleshlight with her name on it. I’m gonna use those pictures when I get home… Gotta get myself ready for tonight. She has no clue what she’s in for. What I wouldn’t give to have my cock in her hand instead of my own. I’d make her jerk me off as she pleaded for my dick deep in that pretty tight cunt. I bet she’s so goddam wet. So, so fuckin’ tight.

“I know, baby. Daddy’s gonna give you his dick. Don’t worry,” I mumble, feeling my breathing start to increase with my pleasure. I thrust into my hand, fucking up into my fist as I watch her undo the loosened side strings of her bikini, tightening it again.

I eye the sign, catching the time. 11-4 PM. Yes… They’ll be here all afternoon. Just need to make a pit stop. Grab a pair of panties. Whatever I can get. I need to taste her. Stuff ‘em in my mouth as I study my prize. My hips stutter as I feel myself about to bust, imagining just how sweet she’ll taste. I work myself quicker, taking hold of my steering wheel as I rut into my hand.

‘Rafe. Rafe. Rafe.’ I can hear it now. See my little whore creamin’ on my cock as I give it to her over and over again.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby girl. Where do you want it?”

‘Deep in my pussy… Please, baby’. She’ll whimper and beg, pleading to get stuffed full. I’m gonna brush my fingers over her swollen clit, making her gush all over my cock and thighs, wetting everything around us until I’m pumping her full of my cum.

I’ll watch it drip out of her puffy pink hole, fucking it right back in, cleaning the rest off with my tongue before spitting it in her mouth.

My perfect cumslut.

I need it drippin’ out of her for days. Watchin’ my little angel walk into class, knowing just how good I dicked her down. I’ll watch her from my seat as she cleans the little cum tear off her inner thigh, slipping it between her lips as her eyes flick to mine, sucking it clean.

No one will have her again. “She was made for me.” The thought alone has my hand faltering; jaw falling slack. My stomach sinks, eyes doubling as she looks in my direction, matching my gaze. “Fuckkk…” My eyes roll back in my skull, toes curling, head thrown to the headrest as I cum harder than I ever have. Shit. I don’t even care if she saw. If she’s any girl of mine, she’d want to see it anyway.

My dirty little whore.

I look down at my jizz covered hand and lap. Goddamnit. I clear the gap between my car and the next before ripping off my shirt and wiping away my mess. I flip my hat on, snagging my protein shaker bottle from the passenger’s seat floor as I try to disguise the real reason I’m covered head to toe in sweat. I do my best to control my breathing, still running high from my climax, hit with the post-nut clarity that she may have seen it all.

She looks happy to see me… Real happy. Y/n smiles, making my heart race again as I meet her gorgeous eyes. She greets me happily, trotting up to my truck. “How are you doin’, sweetheart?”

She dunks her hand into the soapy bucket, grabbing a sponge. “Livin’ the dream,” y/n smiles, moving closer than expected. I take in her perfume, already so familiar to me, the smell of it revving me right up again.

“Sorry. I’m a sweaty mess,” I sigh. Her gaze falls down my body, studying me with a bashful smile.

“Just got done with a workout?” She asks.

“Mhmm…” I smile and nod in reply. “Pay now? Pay later?” I invite as I snag my wallet.

“Now,” she sings. “Donation based, so whatever you’re willing to give.” I thumb through my wallet, plucking out $200.

“Rafe…” She breathes, taking it off my hands. “Are you sure? This is a little much.” Y/n looks down at the cash in her hands before meeting my eyes again.

“Positive,” I assure.

“Well, that is very nice, Rafe Cameron,” she coos. Y/n uses my last name, making my stomach drop. She wouldn’t have known my last name unless she did some digging. I didn’t give it to her; I never said anything in class before today. She must have looked me up on Instagram or Snapchat… Maybe she asked one of her sisters about me.

I fight off a wide smile as she gets started on the car. She takes her time, putting in a little more effort than the cars before. She walks to the front of the cab, leaning over, breast jiggling as she swirls and circles the sponge on the hood. She rises a little higher on her tippy toes, unable to reach the rest.

“Here you go, babe.” Her friend sets down a ladder for Y/n. She bends over once more, the angle alone making my cock rock hard again as I imagine us fucking raw. Tonight… I’ll bend her over on the bathroom counter, just like she is now, the bass of the party on the street not even loud enough to cover her cries and my moans. I’ll pound into her as the slaps of our skin fill the bathroom. Her eyes shift to mine, catching my stare. She doesn’t drop focus, keeping her eyes on me as she continues to scrub. A smirk spreads on her lips, mirroring my own.

Baby girl…

Y/n steps down from the ladder before walking to her friend, grabbing the hose off her hands; taking her job instead. She sprays down the truck, cleaning off the suds. The light breeze catches the flow of water, sending little beads of it flying, catching on her perfect skin. My mouth waters as I imagine licking the glaze of it off her skin. Fuck… I don’t think I can take this.

“Alright, Mr. Cameron. You’re all set,” she smiles as she eyes her work. I bite my lip and nod.

“Thank you, princess. See you tonight.”

I pull forward, watching her from my wing mirror as she greets the next car. Her excitement fades as she welcomes the next. Good fuckin’ girl.

Next stop, Phi Mu.

𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 2

tag list and masterlist on my pinned post

@starkeysprincess @rafesthroatbaby @gri959 @loserboysandlithium @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @akobx @darlydixon83 @hyperfixationgirl @savayvayblr-blog @oxpogues4lifexo @rafesgiirl @sleepiibunniiii

[santaasi]

iris

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: jj maybank struggled all his life just to finally find home in your arms

warnings: fluff, slight angst at the start, no use of y/n, english isn’t my first language

word count: 3.9k

a/n: bringing myself comfort after the spoilers for the final of s4. my baby boy deserved a lot more.

ᯓ★ now playing…

goo goo dolls - iris

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

IT WAS SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT — something so profound that JJ couldn't begin to describe it in words. Yet, he felt it in every cell of his body, in the deepest, most secret corners of his soul. It was as if he was staring into the vastness of the universe, into the boundless, all-consuming darkness that had terrified him since childhood. But now... now it glowed with a hundred, a million, a billion tiny stars — simple, yet magnificent clusters of light that transformed everything in an instant. You became his universe, his everything, and in that moment, everything changed.

JJ would be lying if he said he didn’t remember the exact moment — the exact second — he first met you. He remembered it vividly, like it was etched into his very bones, because that moment was his Big Bang. It was the spark that created the whole universe from nothing, with you as its center, pulling him into an orbit he never thought he’d find.

It was an ordinary day — at least, by JJ’s standards. A typical day filled with drinking, weed, hanging out with Pogues, and the all-too-familiar beatings from his father. After the last one, all he craved was solitude — just to be alone, to fade into the nothingness. To disappear. To stop feeling the weight of pain, to stop wondering what he had done wrong, to stop seeing the pity in his friends’ eyes whenever he showed up at the Chateau, bruised and broken.

For a fleeting moment, he wished he could stop being JJ Maybank — the lost, troubled boy everyone knew — and just be... himself. If only he knew who that was anymore.

It was night — a surprisingly cold summer night. The air carried a chill that seemed at odds with the warmth of the season, but even so, JJ found his haven between the soothing waves. The ocean cradled him gently, rocking him like a child in a mother’s arms, as if the water itself was trying to heal him. He lay on his stomach, his face dipping under the surface, seeking solace in the cool embrace of the sea, trying to drown out the swarm of thoughts buzzing endlessly in his mind.

How long had he been lying there? He couldn’t say. Time had blurred into the rhythm of the waves, and for a moment, he didn’t care. He didn’t expect the next moment to be so... startling.

You stopped just a few meters away, your breath coming in quick, heavy gasps. Your hair clung to your face, and the water began to bite at your skin with its coldness. And yet, in that brief flash of moonlight, JJ swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you — divine, even. The glow of the moon reflected off the water, casting a silver sheen over you, making everything seem surreal. Your slightly parted lips, your wide eyes, all caught in the stillness of the night, made something inside him twist. At that moment, he realized something, something terrifying: he was a goner.

"What the hell?"

The words slipped out in unison, an awkward moment of shared surprise. You raised an eyebrow, the frustration and relief mixing in your gaze before you splashed water in his face.

"Are you asking me what the hell?" you said, voice tinged with disbelief. "You were literally floating face down! I thought you were dead!"

JJ blinked, caught off guard, and shook his head, sending droplets flying in every direction. He didn’t respond immediately — his mind was still trying to catch up. He just stared at you, the way the moonlight danced on your skin, how the cold seemed to wash away everything else. There was something about you that both unsettled and comforted him, a mix he couldn’t quite place.

"Yeah, well," he muttered, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t, like, dead. I mean, not really." His voice was hoarse, raw with something he hadn’t let anyone hear in a long time. It barely masked the emptiness he’d been drowning in just moments ago. "Just needed a swim. Didn’t mean to scare you."

You crossed your arms under the water, rolling your eyes, but a soft smile played at the edges of your lips. "Just an ordinary midnight swim, huh?" you teased. But there was a knowing look in your eyes, like you could see through the mask. "I thought I was going to have to explain to the police tomorrow that some guy was found swimming in the ocean. ‘Local girl finds body in the water,’ you know? Not exactly the first week I imagined."

JJ raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Wait... you’re new here?"

You nodded, brushing your wet hair from your face, a small sigh escaping you as you did. "Yeah, I moved here a few days ago. Needed to start fresh, I guess." Your gaze shifted toward the shore, distant, but not quite lost. "Thought the ocean might help clear my head."

He could relate to that, more than he wanted to admit. He nodded without thinking, something about you felt... different. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice almost vulnerable. "Outer Banks isn’t paradise, but... it could be worse." The words slipped out before he could stop them, softer than he wanted, like a door that had been closed for too long suddenly creaking open. He hadn’t expected to share anything, but with you, it didn’t feel like sharing — it felt more like breathing.

The wind picked up, sending a chill over the water. You shivered slightly, pulling your arms tighter around yourself. JJ noticed, instinctively stepping closer, despite still standing in the water.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern. "Cold night for a swim."

The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on him — he, too, had come to the water to escape, to disappear. But with you standing there, he didn’t feel quite as invisible. And that scared him more than he wanted to admit.

You shrugged, looking toward the shore, but your eyes softened. "Yeah, just... a tough day, I guess. I thought the water might help me forget for a little while."

A bitter laugh slipped from JJ’s lips, and he didn’t try to hide it. "Well, looks like you found the right company for that," he said, his words more raw than he’d intended. But somehow, it felt natural to talk like this, to say things he hadn’t said to anyone in a long time. With you, it didn’t feel so forced.

You turned toward him, your expression softening. There was understanding in your eyes — like you’d been there too. "Tough day too, huh?" you said quietly, your voice almost lost in the stillness of the night.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The world seemed to hold its breath, the ocean around you a calm, sacred space. In that silence, something passed between you — unspoken, but real. As if for that moment, you both shared something intangible, something neither of you could put into words.

Finally, you broke the quiet, your voice teasing but gentle. "So... are you always this mysterious, or did I just pick the perfect time to meet you?"

A laugh escaped him, more genuine than he expected. "Maybe a little of both." He let the silence stretch on, comfortable now. For the first time in ages, he felt seen, and it wasn’t as frightening as he thought it would be.

It was ridiculous, he thought — how could a complete stranger, someone he’d just met in the middle of the ocean, at some ungodly hour, feel like they were filling a space inside him he never knew was empty?

But when he looked at you, he felt something shift, something deep inside. Something real. Something alive.

"JJ," he finally said, his voice breaking the silence. The sound of his own name felt unfamiliar, like a piece of himself he hadn’t shared in too long.

You gave him a soft smile that reached your eyes, warm and knowing. "Nice to meet you, JJ."

AND THERE IT WAS — his universe had changed. The Big Bang.

After that night, JJ couldn’t think about anything but you. Your presence consumed him, yet in a way that felt like coming alive for the first time. He found himself drifting into your orbit, again and again, as if fate itself had been guiding him toward you all along. But while he believed in fate, you thought it was just chance.

It wasn’t long before JJ began to learn more about you, obsessing over every little detail. He learned that you loved spending your free time on the beach, reading books. Books that he had never bothered with before, but now he listened to them at double speed just to be able to talk to you about them. You had a habit of finding solace in the water, the way the waves seemed to ease the weight of the world from your shoulders. And he learned that you worked in a small diner on the Cut, a place that barely registered on anyone else’s radar but was now a part of his daily life.

It became his mission to visit those places. To catch your eye, exchange a few words. He even went to some Save the Turtles event with Kie — something he’d never have attended before — just to see you, just to find a reason to talk.

He didn't know why he was so drawn to you. Why waking up felt a little easier when he thought about you. Why his days felt less suffocating when he could see you by the ocean, or feel your warmth when you wrapped him up in your arms. And most importantly — why, in a world where he wanted to stay invisible, he wanted you to see him. Because no one, not even the closest people in his life, had ever truly understood him like you did.

It might have sounded corny, but JJ knew you were different. He didn’t want to undress you or get you into bed first, like he did with other girls. He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to know you. He wanted to be near you — not in a rushed, desperate way, but slowly, patiently, like the world had all the time for them. And that terrified him. Because everything in his life felt like it was bound to break, and he was scared of getting too close, only to watch it all fall apart.

But you made him feel like he was floating, like he was finally seeing the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. And even if it didn’t last forever, he would take it. It was worth it.

Because at some moment you became his safe place. His home.

JJ DIDN'T REMEMBER THE EXACT MOMENT HE FIRST CAME TO YOUR HOUSE, or why he couldn’t go back to the Chateau after the latest fight with his father. He just knew that he had found his way to you. It wasn’t a conscious choice. It was as if the universe had decided that, for once, he deserved peace. So, he climbed up to your balcony, hiding from the world, just to see you.

The moment he stepped inside, he felt the weight of everything lift from his chest. You didn't need to ask questions, you didn’t need explanations. You just held him — no judgment, no demands. Just there. Your hands gently cupped his face, and in that simple gesture, everything felt easier. It was like you knew exactly how much he needed to be held together. The comfort in your touch was so raw, so real, that it felt like he could stay there forever and nothing would ever hurt him again.

"Hey, JJ," you whispered softly as you cleaned the cuts on his knuckles. "You're okay. It's just another day. We'll get through it."

Your words were soft, but they carried a weight. The kind of weight that made him feel like, maybe, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t carrying all the burden on his own.

"Yeah, we will," he whispered looking in your eyes finding solace in it. "How'd your day go?" he asked quietly, almost as an afterthought, as you dabbed at a cut on his forehead.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You know, the usual. Serving coffee, cleaning tables... Same old stuff. But then again, it’s a good distraction.”

And JJ realized, right then, that this wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about the mess of his life. It was about the way you understood him without needing to understand everything. You were healing him, piece by piece, without even knowing it.

You were there, not because you had to be, but because you wanted to be. And when you laid him down in your bed, curling up beside him, you whispered about your day at work, your own small struggles. You shared your world with him, and somehow, it made his feel a little less heavy.

IT WASN'T LONG BEFORE JJ OPENED UP TO YOU, really opened up in a way he had never done before. It was a slow burn at first. He kept his distance, guarding you from the mess that was his life. But the longer he stayed, the more he realized that you were the one who saw him. All of him — the messed-up, broken parts that he tried so hard to hide from everyone else. And when he realized you weren’t scared of that, he finally let go.

"I used to think that if I told you about my life, you'd leave," he admitted one night, his voice thick with raw emotion. "But... you didn’t. You stayed."

You looked at him, your expression tender, your hands tracing the edge of his jawline. "I'm not going anywhere, JJ. Not unless you want me to."

And that was the moment he knew — he had found someone who understood him in a way no one ever had. No one ever would.

One night, after sharing stories and secrets until the stars outside had started to fade, you both found yourselves standing close, the air thick with unspoken words. There was a nervousness between you, but also a tenderness that neither of you had known before. JJ leaned in, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was soft, hesitant, and filled with the kind of understanding that only comes when two people truly see each other. His lips were warm against yours, the moment suspended in time. And as he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered softly, “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

You didn’t need to say anything in return. The truth was already in your eyes, in the way you pulled him closer, your hands tracing the lines of his back like you were memorizing him. He didn’t need forever. He didn’t need promises. He just needed this. You. Now. And that was enough.

THE EVENING WAS SETTLING INTO ITS QUIET RYTHM AT THE CHATEAU. The Pogues were scattered around, some laughing, some lost in their own thoughts, and some just lounging by the bonfire. The air smelled faintly of saltwater and smoke, the crackling warmth from the fire barely reaching the edge of the pier. The world felt suspended in a beautiful hush, as though the universe itself had exhaled, and for the briefest of moments, everything stood still.

But despite the presence of his friends, despite the fire, the laughter, and the constant noise that filled every corner of the Chateau, JJ was focused only on you. Your presence was like gravity, pulling him closer to something real, something tangible. You were his escape, his universe — shaped not by chaos and pain, but by a quiet peace he had never known until you.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked softly, lifting your head from his shoulder. Your voice was gentle, threading through the sea breeze that fluttered your hair, causing it to stray in wisps across your face. You frowned slightly as the breeze brushed against your skin, the hair teasing at your cheek in an almost playful, yet annoying way. He loved how you could get lost in these little moments, how even the simplest things seemed to pull you in.

JJ, ever the thinker, gazed out at the vast ocean, where the horizon was a delicate line between the fading light of the day and the endless mystery of the night. There was something about the sea — so unpredictable, so endless — that made him feel both small and infinite. It was like he could feel the weight of the universe pressing on his chest, but at the same time, it gave him a sense of freedom, of release.

He shook his head, not really having the words to explain the depth of his thoughts, of how you had become his entire universe in such a short time. He leaned down, brushing his lips against your forehead in a kiss that felt like a promise, like a quiet vow he was ready to keep forever.

"I love you," he said simply, the words falling so easily from his lips it startled him. It was like his heart had always known the truth, but now, with you, it could finally speak it. He turned to face you, his hands gently cupping your face, and pushed a strand of hair back behind your ear. Your hair had tangled slightly in the breeze, and his fingers brushed against the soft strands as if trying to keep you grounded in this moment.

You smiled up at him, your eyes warm with affection, and for a brief second, JJ wondered if he had been imagining all of this — the way your touch made him feel alive, how your laugh filled him with a joy that felt as though he was living in a dream. He had never been one to express his feelings out loud, never been able to put his heart on the line like that. But with you, everything felt different. Everything felt right.

"I love you, too," you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, but JJ felt the weight of them — felt how real they were, how they shifted the space between you, making it smaller, warmer, more intimate. It was like the universe had shifted in that moment, like the stars aligned just for the two of you.

But you, ever the one to keep things light, laughed softly, breaking the moment in the most perfect way. Your laugh rang out like music, a melody he couldn’t get enough of. "But everyone knows that, stupid! It’s no secret that you’re head over heels in love with me," you teased, brushing his hair out of his eyes, as if trying to bring him back down from whatever cosmic place his mind had drifted to.

JJ chuckled, the sound deep and sincere. There was no pretense, no walls. Just the two of you, surrounded by the night and the ocean, and for the first time, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. His smile was soft but real, and he kissed you once, gently, on the tip of your nose, then moved to the corner of your lips, then your cheek, your forehead, each kiss like a reassurance that this moment, this feeling, was real.

"You don't get it, do you?" JJ murmured, his voice a little more serious than the moment required. He let the silence stretch between you before continuing. "It’s not just... about love, doll. It’s about everything. It’s the way you make me see the world in a way I never thought I would. The way you make me feel like... like I’m enough." His voice softened with a vulnerability he hadn’t known he could express. "Before you, everything was just a blur. I didn’t even know how to be, to feel. But with you? It’s different. You make me real, love."

You looked at him, your gaze tender, understanding. Your eyes softened, and without a word, you reached out and pulled him in for a tight hug. JJ rested his head against your shoulder, inhaling the soft scent of your skin, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. It was just the two of you, and for the first time in a long time, JJ felt truly alive.

He had spent so many years running from everything that hurt him, pushing away anything that could cause him pain. But in that moment, wrapped in your embrace, the fear was gone. There was nothing left but the two of you, standing on the edge of the world, with the ocean stretching out before you like an endless promise.

"I never thought I’d say it," he whispered, his words coming out in a quiet rush. "But you’re my Big Bang. The thing that changed everything for me. Before you, it felt like I was drifting through the void, like there was nothing in this world worth holding on to. But now..." He pulled away slightly, looking at you with a newfound intensity. "Now, you’re my everything. You gave me a reason to stay."

Your fingers lightly brushed against his cheek, the touch so gentle it felt like a feather. You looked at him, eyes searching his face, and you smiled softly. "You don't have to be alone anymore, JJ. You’ve never been alone." Your voice was quiet, but the sincerity behind it struck him like a bolt of lightning. "We're in this together."

A small laugh escaped him, a sound that felt almost foreign but so freeing. The way you made him feel — like he was seen, understood, held — it was beyond anything he could have imagined. You were the gravity in his universe, pulling him in, holding him steady. And no matter how far out he drifted, he always knew he'd find his way back to you.

"You make me feel like the world is full of stars," he murmured, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. "Like everything that’s ever happened to me — good or bad — led me to you. Like I was just waiting for you to come and show me what it’s like to be."

You grinned, a playful glint in your eyes. "Well, don't get too carried away, Maybank. I’m not that amazing."

JJ smiled, but there was something raw in his expression, something that hinted at all the things he could never quite put into words. "You are," he said softly. "You are my everything. And for once, I’m not afraid to let myself feel it."

The world stretched out before you, both of you standing at the precipice of something so beautiful, so uncertain, yet so undeniable. The stars above shimmered like tiny promises, like constellations forming their own quiet narrative about two souls finding each other in the vast, infinite expanse of the universe. And in that moment, the ocean, the stars, the wind, and the night itself seemed to pause, holding its breath.

"I love you. So much," JJ whispered again, his voice filled with the certainty that had settled deep within him. It was simple, but it was everything. The words echoed, not just through the air, but through his heart, through his bones, reverberating in a way he never thought was possible. And as the night embraced them both, they realized that they had found their place in the world. Together.

And for the first time, JJ Maybank wasn’t afraid to be seen. Because you saw him. And that was enough

thankx for reading <3

so, that’s it. jj maybank deserved the whole world but only got this shitty ending. am i gonna watch obx4 now? probably not. am i gonna write for jj like there’s no s4? definitely yes! i think we’ll all agree that obx ended on s3 and after that nothing happened.

but every time i see the posts about jj i feel so sad… like it literally hurts on some level because he deserved his happy ending more than anyone. even if rudy wanted to leave the show they could have written a good ending for him. not one more fucked up father, but one that would take him to see the world or shit like this. i just wanted him to be happy.

i chose iris because this is so jj coded for me. i haven’t listened to this song in ages and when it popped up in my shuffle yesterday – i just wanted it to be about jj. with all his struggles, all his pain, but also with a hope for something good. so, i rly hope that you liked this work.

and again thank u for reading. thank u for liking, reblogging and commenting - it’s rly means a lot to me. you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

masterlist

[valsverse]

⠀(୨୧) 💭 ׄ ︵͡ STICKY | P. JACKSON

୨ৎ slightly suggestive?? ── est. relationship wc : 773 ｡｡ ( masterlist)

the stark contrast between percy’s soft, chapped lips against your own and the cold edge of his sword moving along your skin is making your head dizzy.

he’s using it—using the sword, that is. his fingers grip the hilt, dragging it along your collarbone with a slow, teasing graze. you’re not sure where your own weapon went, only remembering percy knocking it from your hand after cornering you in this secluded part of the forest. the sounds of the capture the flag game—whistles, the clash of steel—are muffled now, drowned out by the feeling of him against you, pressing you into the rough bark of the tree.

you should be focused on the game, on the fact that you’re captains on opposite teams. but it’s hard to care when every inch of percy’s body presses into you. his sword teases your stomach, stopping just above your hip. the sharp tip presses against your skin, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to leave a mark, a fine line between danger and pleasure.

“yield?” his voice is a low rasp, his lips brushing against your ear as his sword hovers just above your skin, waiting. when you stay silent, he presses you harder into the tree. you barely feel it, the rough bark digging into your back, too lost in him. the cold edge of his blade provides a strange relief, the metal pressing harder, cool against your sweat-slicked skin.

he moves the sword higher, sliding it along your jawline before urging your chin up to expose the vulnerable column of your neck. his lips follow, leaving a trail of heat as they move up your skin, grazing the sensitive spots of your jaw. then, without warning, his lips crash against yours again, raw, urgent, and unrelenting.

the sounds of the game—everything—melts into nothingness as his mouth takes yours. there’s no gentleness to it. you meet him eagerly, your hands sliding up his chest, fingers brushing the edge of his armor. he groans against your lips, feeling your fingers tangle in his damp hair. his sword slips from his grip, hitting the ground with a dull thud as his hand moves to your shoulder, pushing you deeper against the tree.

the clinking of your helmets is a violent interruption. he pulls back, his breath ragged and nose scrunched in frustration as the helmets knock together again. with an impatient grunt, he tugs off his helmet, throwing it aside carelessly. sweat drips down his neck, following the curve of his jaw before disappearing beneath his armor. his fingers work with swift urgency, undoing the buckles on your helmet, his touch desperate and impatient.

“better?” his voice is rough, like he can barely catch his breath as he tosses your helmet aside. you feel the slick warmth of his skin, the sweat gliding between your fingers as you pull him closer, desperate for the kiss to continue.

“much better,” you murmur, breathless, and pull him back to your mouth. his hands find the nape of your neck, pushing you closer, as if it were possible to get any nearer. his body fits perfectly against yours and he’s cupping your face now, fingers digging into your skin.

finally, he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, breaths shallow and ragged. his eyes meet yours, and something flickers there—a look of victory.

“you’re impossible,” you mutter, trying to catch your breath.

“maybe.” his grin returns, that cocky smirk that makes you want to kiss him and slap him at the same time. “but you love me for it.”

before you can respond, the clear sound of a cheer rings out from the distance, loud and triumphant. your stomach drops as reality sets in.

“no,” you whisper, realizing what’s happened.

percy’s grin widens, eyes flickering between you and the distant noise.

“percy,” you hiss, shoving him, but he’s already retrieving his sword, his movements calm and collected as if nothing had just passed between you.

“you’ll figure it out,” he says with a breezy shrug, that same smirk never leaving his face.

he turns, disappearing into the trees, leaving you breathless, disarmed, and painfully aware of just how far behind enemy lines you are.

BONUS! “wait, so your ‘winning strategy’ was just to make out with me so i’d get distracted?” you ask, crossing your arms as you watch percy hoist up the winning banner, the fabric catching in the breeze. “pretty much,” he says, not even bothering to look over his shoulder, that cocky grin still firmly in place. “and it worked pretty well, didn’t it?”

©valsverse — do not steal, edit, or repost my works. plagiarism is prohibited.

[steviewashere]

Working It Out

Rating: General CW: Implied/Referenced Depression Tags: Post-Canon, Future Fic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Rockstar Eddie Munson, Teacher Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Sad Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Hinted Breakup Conversation, But They Work It Out, Difficult Conversations, Talking Through Feelings, Soft Eddie Munson, Discussion of Future For @steddieangstyaugust Day 31 Prompt: "I'm not going to beg you to love me."

🎸——————🎸 Steve is happy for Eddie. Really, he is. Has the whole rockstar thing figured out. On the cover of Rolling Stone, booking late night slots on television, getting recognized in public spaces, and selling out stadiums. It’s the life he’s always dreamed of. It’s what he’s wanted since he was little.

So why can’t he be happy, too?

He thought that, by now, he’d have some part of his life figured out. Now that he’s entered his thirties. That he’s got some sort of college degree. A reasonable resume. The social connections needed to climb certain ladders. Yet, he’s not satisfied. Not pleased the way Eddie is.

The house they have is…too much. Lavish and big and bright. Hard earned, but hardly comfortable. It’s not cluttered like the Munson’s trailer was, it’s not warm and welcoming and the definition of pure and utter comfort. That was home, to Steve at least. It was a change of pace from the house he grew up in—alone and scared and desperate for attention he couldn’t find, instead sprawling between empty rooms that had too many windows and cleaning a pool too big for one person. This new house he now resides in is just that. A house.

By now, he thought that he’d be happy. That he’d be waking up refreshed and ready to greet each morning. That he’d be fine talking to Eddie over the phone, waiting around for those late night rings, trying to catch all the messy postcards in the mail. The postcards that come in random intervals and never actually reflect where Eddie is. It makes Steve anxious that he can’t pinpoint where Eddie is most of the time—left to bite his fingernails until he hears Eddie’s voice, and even then…sometimes he’ll call and won’t get an answer. And it’s no use to leave a message, it’ll be a hotel staff member or a person that’s now paying for the room.

All he does is wait and sleep and eat expensive food. He twiddles his thumbs. He’ll take a car to work, met with the smiling faces of herds of kids he teaches, and then he takes the silent drive home. Where he sits on an uncomfortable leather couch, satin pajamas that replaced old sweatpants a few years ago, staring off into nothingness that’s as ice cold as his chest feels.

He hates the waiting around, though.

Sometimes, he just wants to get up and leave. Search for something else.

But he loves Eddie too much, he knows. He’s not going to do that.

——— The front door opens and the thud of suitcases is heard. Steve leaves their bedroom, red eyed and face puffy. Wipes his nose on the sleeve of his pajama shirt, hands shaking with relief. Relief and anxiety and desperation and…terrible longing.

“Stevie!” Eddie crows, greeting. Arms open wide. Whip-wild smile on his face, eyes big, unshaven jaw. His hair is thrown up into a ponytail, bouncing with his boisterous immediate attitude. “Baby, baby…I have so many stories to tell you. It’s been such a good tour! I can’t”—he stops himself abruptly, arms falling back down at his sides. His voice that was previously so loud, echoing to their high ceilings, now softens. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did…did something happen?”

Steve shakes his head. No, he thinks, it’s not Vecna. It’s not the Upside Down. It’s just me.

He takes a step forward, then several, and the last couple until he’s five feet in front of Eddie. Oddly, he feels small. Like the kid that greeted his parents when they came home from long business trips, already angry, already disappointed. He wants to curl up into a ball and keep crying, never admitting out loud what’s wrong. Feels that innate, incredibly deep urge to climb out one of the many windows and just run away. Like he tried to do so much when he was younger, heavy lopsided backpack on his little body, discarding letters of anger under his parents’ door so they’ll know he’s gone, and his mind set on a friend’s house—typically Tommy. Sometimes Carol.

But his friend that he’d go to now, Robin, she’s several state lines over. He can’t just up and leave now. He can’t just pack up his car and go. Eddie’s money is Eddie’s money. And even though they made an agreement that the cash is shared, it still would feel wrong to take some of it just to…abandon all that he has now. Which would probably include Eddie. And he doesn’t want to think of that.

His chest is concave and heavy, yet empty—hollow. Like it’s been for months. For years at this point. He takes a deep breath, ignoring how it shutters through him, makes him half-form a hiccup in the back of his throat. “I’m not…happy, Eds,” he admits in a whisper.

Eddie’s eyebrows raise slightly. Eyes growing bigger and concerned. The corners of his mouth pulling down. “How so, sweetheart?”

Steve can’t look him in the eyes. Looking at the floor below his bare feet. The cold hardwood that resembles too much of his parents’ house. He takes another steady-ish breath, almost gasping with it. Rubs his hands together below his stomach, like a nervous kid about to be caught.

“I hate it here,” he chooses to start. “I hate this house. I hate the way it echoes when I talk into it sometimes. I hate having to…” Steve looks up to Eddie. Merely avoiding his eyes, focused on the tip of his nose instead. “…I hate trying to figure out where you are because sometimes you won’t answer the phone, or maybe the postcard you sent doesn’t come in time. I hate that I even have to call you to figure out how you’re doing. 

“I can’t just turn over in bed and ask you how your day was. I can’t look you in the eyes when I talk to you because you just aren’t there. I’m so lonely, Eddie. I’m so…I feel just so…Empty.”

What follows that is a tense silence that even the sharpest of knives wouldn’t be able to cut. He doesn’t think flames would melt the tension. Nothing could get through it.

“You’re not happy…because of my work?”

He didn’t say that exactly, but it feels like the truth. Steve nods. “I’m happy for you,” he says, “I am. But your dream isn’t my dream. I honestly don’t even know what I want out of life, but I know this isn’t it.

“I’m just so tired of waiting around. Makes me feel like I’m waiting up for my parents to come home. And you know how that was. You know how I felt being there. Like I had to earn their attention, their love…whatever.” He shifts from side to side, still nervous and stomach turning. His eyes ache from drying out after all the crying earlier. He never thought that being honest would hurt so much. Steve swallows hard. Softly, he confesses, “I’m not going to beg you to love me. I don’t want to do that. But I don’t want to live like this either.” He looks back into Eddie’s eyes, finally. Met with the same miserableness that’s twisting inside of him. It makes his heart drop to his stomach. “So, if me being…if my current feelings get in the way of your dreams, I think we better…y’know.”

Steve doesn’t know, not really. Isn’t sure where he’d go right now. If all of this just falls through. He’d probably have to relocate his job, and he doesn’t want to say goodbye to his class of kids. Maybe he should’ve just waited for all of this to go down.

Instead, he’s met with a soft touch to the small of his back. Eddie leads them into their too spacious living room, on that uncomfortable leather couch, huddling in close to one another.

“Stevie,” Eddie whispers, “look at me, please.”

Hesitantly, he does.

“There you are,” Eddie coos. Soft hands envelop Steve’s right. Thumbs working into the hard points of his knuckles, nails gently tracing over old scars. “Baby,” he speaks softly, “I want to first of all say, thank you for telling me how you’re feeling. Okay? I like knowing things like this, sweetheart. Where you’re at in your head. Where you’re at with our everything. And I need you to know that none of what you said affects our relationship. None of it. If anything, it makes me understand you more. Makes me realize what isn’t working for us.

“But you are my first priority, always. Always, Steve,” he speaks firmly. “And I have to be honest here, too. I’m starting to hate the work that I do. I love creating music, I love working with smaller artists, I like getting out and seeing the world. But I hate doing it all the time. I hate that our days out sometimes gets interrupted by people on the street, or paparazzi cameras in our face. I hate that when we call, you sound so fucking tired from your day at work, waiting for me to answer the phone. I hate that I can’t get mail back from you, already gone before it’d come in the mail.

“I hate this house, I do. Even if we’ve had our fun with it”—he wiggles his eyebrows at that, eliciting a tiny snort from Steve—“it’s too big, you’re right. It’s uncomfortable to me, I gotta be honest. This couch we’re sitting on is fucking ugly and really trashy, even if it cost a pretty fucking penny. None of this us, I see that especially now.”

Steve sucks in a slow breath through his nose. Murmurs, “What are you getting at, Eds?”

Eddie brings up his left hand to Steve’s right cheek, gently cradling it in his palm. Thumb swiping reverently on the dried tear tracks there, the sticky hot skin. “I spoke with the band. With my agent. Told ‘em that this was my final tour. That I quit,” he confesses quietly, “that I’m going to sell this stupid fucking house. Move somewhere more remote, smaller, homelier. Somewhere we can be close to our real family, our friends. Maybe even somewhere we can get married one day. I told ‘em, loud and clear, that I’ve got love waiting for me back home that I know for certain I’m not going to find anywhere else.

“Being in love with you, Steve, has been more of an accomplishment, a brighter dream, and a fucking blessing compared to my first dream. You are why I keep going most days. And I don’t want to lose you over something we’ve both come to hate.”

He blinks at Eddie. Blinks and blinks and blinks. “You want to leave it all behind? Just to be here with me? Babe, that’s…that’s kind of insane, you know that?”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie hums. Eyes giddy and warm. “Guess you could say I’m crazy in love with you, sweetheart. I’d rather be with you. I’d rather stay in a home we put together with our hands rather than picking from some stupid catalogue. I’d rather water our plants while you make a classroom of kids smile. I’d rather greet you at the door, kiss on the cheek, taking your briefcase, ready to make us some warm dinner so that we can watch trashy television shows in our underwear, kiss until we’re fucking gasping, and then be able to wrap myself around you in our bed. Every fucking night. That sounds like more of a dream come true than anything.”

“You’d really leave it all behind, though? Just to be with me?”

Eddie rolls his eyes playfully. “Yes,” he swears. “Yes, sweetheart. A million times—yes! If I have to tell you every day that you’re worth staying for, then so be it. But you’re worth everything, you’re worth more than any riches I make from this crummy career.”

Steve squeezes Eddie’s other hand still wrapped around his. “Okay,” he whispers. 

He lets Eddie dote on him, soft and sweet and languid.

And later that night, wrapped around each other in bed, Eddie stroking the bridge of Steve’s nose, Steve’s fingers working circles into Eddie’s hip—they’re content.

“Can we get a dog in our new home?” Steve asks.

Jokingly, Eddie murmurs, “Now you’re asking too much.” He boops the tip of Steve’s nose. But there’s a big, foolish grin on his face. Eyes too soft to mean anything malicious. “I’m kidding, sweetheart. Maybe we’ll go to the humane society in the morning?”

Steve, for the first time in a long while, smiles. “Sounds like a plan, Eds. I love you.”

“Sweetheart, I love you until the universe fucking explodes. And then some.”

🎸——————🎸

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Tԋҽ Sσϝƚҽʂƚ Lσʋҽ

summary: sometimes all you need is a gentle lover and a comforting hand, Jacaerys knows this all too well with you at his side and a crown at his temple request: Hii can I request a softest love prompt 2&7 for Jace:)))) pairing: King!Jacaerys x reader pronouns: she/her dividers by: saradika and cafekitsune wordcount: 2,659  prompts: 2. touching foreheads in a hug, 7. that gaze--tired, soft, their thumb gently rubbing your cheek, noses touching, silently mumbling an "i love you" banners by myself A/N: i really hope you enjoyed this anon! let me know!

“AND IF we are unable to find said payment or refuse, then it is a reasonable assumption to make that–” The droning speech of Isembard Arryn, Master of Coin, continues despite the Jacaerys’ clenching jaw and slitted gaze. “War is no solution.” Lord Cregan Stark swiftly interrupts him, glancing his King’s way as the words pass him. It is no secret that the King is not fond of division nor war. Jacaerys stays staring ahead, gaze hard and impenetrable. “We have the money.” He contributes, voice uncharacteristically gruff. You squeeze his hand but as quickly as you can blink, he brings your palm to his lips and places a deft kiss there. Soft and gentle as it had always been. The council pauses at the motion then returns to the matter. They shift in discomfort, they continue to look at his stiff form. “I believe, our liege, that–” Lord Thaddeus Rowen, Master of Laws and lord justiciar begins. “My Hand is right, let us rest on the matter.” Jacaerys snaps briskly. Lord Rowen clears his throat and lets a childish huff pass him. “The decision should be made with haste, your grace, Lord Baratheon shall not be so kind. He will–” Arryn presses further before– “We will let it rest!” Jacaerys shouts with suddenness. He stands and slams one cold, commanding fist against the table. Each breath is held at such an outburst and for once, the King is not blinking at the nothingness of a floor or blankly ahead. Purpose takes flight in his eyes, directing their focus as sharp as a blade on the infuriating man. 

Silence presides over the table, It echoes and flickers with the rage of a King’s charge. Your King had spoken and if his council continued to defy him, you were certain that it would end less than favourably for them. And so, you circle your thumb of his hand and latch your eyes on the side of his face until the pull of your attention tugs him back to you. His eyes lock on your own–at first they stare with the stark hardness of stone. They swim with slitted irritation and glare with a gruffness unknown to you. But he is still your Jacaerys and it takes not long before he softens at your own gaze, you are enough to gentle him. You always are. Jacaerys swallows and turns his gaze back on his dispersing council. “I meant not to frighten you.” He uttered quietly. His body lightened like a feather and his sights trained on the stone table before him. As easily as he does so, you stand and cup his face with your unarmed hand. Your fingers flatten against his face and turn him once more before you. “You could never frighten me.” You reply simply, closing your eyes. Simpleness was your most favourable quality. Everything you cast him was with ease, no secrets stood between you both. It was a relief after so long at troublesome court for you both. A bated huff fluttered with purpose through his nose and it took little for the both of you to rest your foreheads together. He releases shuddered breaths which follow the seam of your mouth. “I love you.” He whispers. A smile pinches at your lips. “I love you too.” You return as the doors swing shut. Another sigh passes through your husband and relaxation washes over him. 

Finally everyone has left, Jacaerys’ arms wrap around you and fingers are already pawing at your gown. It comforts him to feel you, to clench that fabric up in his balled hands and know you’re there. What feels even better however is when a warm, firm kiss is planted against your forehead. And then you hear the most lyrical words…“I love you so much I can barely breathe.” And you let out a shaky exhale. You flutter against him and it almost entices his arms to hold you tighter. The sweetness of his voice plays like a melody through your ears until they circle your brain and lull it to stop the whirring. The whirring that had become so painfully familiar. So painfully consistent. It reminds you of your lover. Not your husband but your lover. The marriage had been chosen for you but that did not mean that your love had been, as Jacaerys cares to remind you each eve as he twists those silken fingers through your hair, as he kisses his affection down your neck until caressed bruises lay in his wake and colour with the pink of his love. Because he does love you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he loves–He loves to be yours, he reminds you as he pulls away. The drapes flutter the cold air inside as swiftly as you can imagine wings could. It folds over you in the space between yourself and your husband. Slowly, your eyes open to find him already gazing at you with his wear lovesick gaze. The gaze that buckles your knees and has you unable to as much as glance away from him. Not for a single moment. 

A shaky sigh sputters from The King of Just’s lips. The people had named him as such after the activities of his on-running reign. Of the odd mercy that he had approached his former enemies with. You think of these events as his fingers dance into your hair. His eyes follow fast to his own actions, fascinated in the treasure within those fingers. Of what he has been blessed to hold, he vows to hold you dearly. Tenderly. Softly. As he does so, your own sights linger on his face. At his pillowed lips and dark, thick eyelashes. At the short scar that stretches along his jaw and chin. The tips of your own fingers flutter toward it like a moth to light. Your thumb lays gentle touch upon it and smooths along the surface. Again, a sigh passes through him but with the gentleness of a doe. With the timid, uncertain glance of a doe. The thought amuses you but you allow it to settle. Breath threads between you both and tugs you ever closer. Ever where you belong. But when he finally presses a kiss to your lips, it barely greets the skin. There is something divinely religious in the way he caresses your lips with his like an idol. Worship dances along his tongue and almost expels prayers from his warm mouth. His thumb detangles from your hair and cups your face. His thumb rolls slow circles into your cheek as his kisses press on between unkempt words. “I love you.” He utters in repetition. “I love you, I love you,” His nose burrows into the side of your own until you almost become one body entwined only with itself. The words tangle themselves in the sweetest patterns throughout your brain and chest. 

Your face turns to face the tall dark door. “They must know that war will not be sustainable.” Utters through you, the spell of confusion and aged bewilderment leaves through an exhale. “We have funds to cease such affairs, why cause a fate of destruction?” Jacaerys feels his jaw soften and his eyes stare distantly into your face. With two gentle fingers, he turns you back towards him. “Men will destroy aplenty for power. I know that all too well.” His gruff words murmur through the air. Your eyes stare into the harsh darkness of his gaze – warm amber turns to stone. Your eyes continue to trace down his ridged nose and chiselled jaw, his plump lips. Something possesses you to caress them with your thumb – slowly parting them until his teeth peek out like shining pearls. His throat bobs but his shoulders stay calm as he leans in again. Jace had been not only your dearest love but your most sweet and that meant more to you than words could ever detail. His lips brush against yours before diving between them and all you can remember is that he feels like home. Jace feels like home. Your Jace. His soft love addresses you and only you – he needs not hide it from anyone. Not even from irritative lords in council chambers. Because you were not only his wife but his Queen. And he has no intent to keep that a discretion. His kiss blossoms your flesh like the blooming of your affection; tentative, tender and tenacious. You would not release it for the world. Not for any Kingdom or cure from mortality for you would happily die in his embrace. Endure any erratic wars or gruelling hardship. It is hard to imagine that you would ever deny him your kiss – the memory flutters the reverberation of a laugh from your mouth. 

Jacaerys has never thought himself one to offend but even less so to cater to the whimsy of romance, yet the moment your laugh reaches his ears, he feels himself reflect one himself. The hair of his fringe passes your own forehead as your press ever-closely together. The thought of parting from you for even a moment brings him heartache. His hands wrap atop the circle of your waist and squeeze with a playfulness unknown to those outside your threshold. “What is that which has you fluttering?” He delights in good charm. He cups your face with one broad, warm hand and rubs the skin. “Hm? What has my dereworthy darling fluttering so?” His amusement only triggers you moreso. When you return him your gaze, Jacaerys can recall why he wished to paint your face upon glass. He wishes to keep your sculpted, smiling face forever in view. It matters not should you outlive him so long as he need not spend a single moment without the sweet, shining eyes of yours. The brows of his face cannot help but droop at your mere sight. His expression stays tender and intense. How could he ever meet a woman of your beauty? He is certain that your charms were not merely a gift of Gods but the heavens themselves. “My joy, I nearly refused you.” It is that of befuddlement which pinches and clouds your pleasant face. A shake of your head rustles the strands of your hair. “How could I ever have refused you? My heart…” 

A chuckle rumbles throughout the King’s chest and he tucks the brushes of hair behind your ears. His sights skid across your features but not in search – he has every answer he could ever need and in the safest of vaults. The vault of his heart. You truly were the sweetest of wines, the holder of hidden truths and the wielder of worlds – his at least. “Tis not your fault, you had not met my charms until our day.” At the mention of such a date, he earned his years of prize – your smile. “To all truth, such an hour frightened me once.” “I know.” He murmured, grinning like a feline. “Of course, then I knew too.” Your eyes widened and the shortest intake rushed to your mouth. “Surely, you jest!” You all but scold, horror in your eyes. He shakes his head, humour all-consuming as he doubles over and squeezes his eyes. “I do not!” Jacaerys claims. “I was quite nerved by it, for what reason is it that had you to assume I not taken you to bed that eve if not your considerations?” His left brow rises and the air suddenly feels stifling. “I…” You stumble with abash. “I had presumed you had not taken a liking to me yet.” At that, Jace is quick to disagree and nuzzle his nose to yours. “I could never not want for you, sweet wife. You are the most beautiful of women and the most kind.” Your head tilts in that darling way that it only calls for when you are unclued. “For days I–” His voice lowers, his gaze flickers over your face. With a swallow, he summons his courage and rubs his thumb over your jawline. “For days, I took witness to your reading in the gardens. To my cousin on her walks there.” 

You had not realised he had seen you with little Jaehaera. The recollection of memories flushes your cheeks. You do not know whether it is your own self-pride or embarrassment. It makes him smile–how easily he can fluster you. “I saw you while passing a window and…Well, you charmed me. Heart and soul, you charmed me.” For a moment, all he can do is stare into your eyes, his gaze soft. “I…” You hesitate, wracking your mind for any clue of the past to which you had ignored but you find nothing. “I had no idea.” You murmur with the quietness of a newborn lamb. He only smiles. “I know, my darling.” Tease carries through his voice. “That is why I love you so; you had not a clue as to anyone witnessing you and your beauty at all.” Adoration was not new to Jacaerys; he had been well accustomed to the Goddess before him for years now. The hand not upon your face runs small circles on your middle. “It is when nobody is watching that I see your heart.” He lands a feather-light kiss to your nose. “I love you, my darling, I love you.” 

Your love is one of quiet halls and whispered confessions. Your love is of a King seeking for the mercy only his QUeen can bring him. The mercy of a gentle home. A gentle life amidst the meddling and politics of a life forever in court. You admit that your own love for your husband came later–the fear of marrying a prince heavy on your mind. The expectation that would come with that also gives no bounds. You still recall how trembles had shaken your form as your father hurried you through the luxurious spectacle. The aisle had been a long, empty space in where you could barely catch the face of your soon-husband and Septon. Surrounded by men and women, ladies and lords of note and yet you had not known nor met. Yet when you had finally forced your figure to stand beside the three men who would cement your future, the only calm you found was through the comfort and Jacaerys’ hand resting on yours. Both of your fates to be entwined and tied. You were together, hands warm and clammy with nerves but together. You were not alone. When he searched your eyes for any hesitance throughout the ceremony and whispered in your ear to ask if you were certain–that was when you knew. You were not alone. He would not allow you to be alone. 

Now, as tears kiss your cheeks. Of affection and warmth–you can still see that look in his gaze. That kind, soft, assurance that you are not alone. “I love you.” You whispered to him, unable to hold back. It does not take long at all for him to press his lips to yours again. His hands caress your face and his care is unavoidable. And when you parted, he still chased for you. “We should retire to bed. The children will have missed us.” You explain quietly, reluctant to leave. A sigh spills from him and although you both stand there together for another second of tenderness, of softness, you know that he agrees. Ever the dutiful father. He would not let a single eve leave them without a story before their rest. “Do you think they would prefer another tale of Nymyria?” “I think they would care greatly for it.” You agree. He takes your hand in his and draws you out of the chamber. The door closes quietly and so are your footsteps as the two of you walk through the hall. The soft rays of sunlight passing down to caress the dusk echoes around you. And like his love–some things are better kept soft. 

General Taglist: - @hopelesswritergall - @succnfuccubus - @madame-fear

HOTD Taglist - @wrendermedone - @its-actually-minicika - @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly - @adelusionalwriter - @cookielovesbook-akie - @maximofftwinsbitch - @ughhthisbitch - @daenerysapologist - @savagemickey03

Jacaerys Taglist - @fairysluna - @jacevelaryonswife - @maximofftwinsbitch

[steveslevis]

throughout the great war

chapter 1 - bruised like violets

azriel x hewn city escapee!reader

summary: you come to Velaris hoping for a way to escape the horrors of Hewn City, and you’re immediately taken into the custody of the High Lord of the Night Court. you don't expect him to accommodate you so willingly, and you definitely don't expect him to inform you that you'd be entering a courtship with his Spymaster, Azriel.

warnings: mentions of torture, death, sexual assault and previous violence, death threats, arranged marriage

word count: 3.8k

series masterlist

As night approaches on your fifth day away from Hewn City, fear finally starts to settle into your bones. 

It’s the dead of winter and you’re in the middle of the mountains in the Night Court, cold chilling you to the core as you trek through the piling snow. The only thing keeping you afloat in the sea of white is the sight of Ramiel ahead of you, and the three stars atop its peak. Those glittering shards in the sky remind you of what you’re trying so hard to find, freedom. 

If only you could muster up enough strength to winnow just one more time. One more leap with your remaining strength hopefully would be able to get you somewhere safe. Your mind races as you think of what you can do, as you think about how you can make that last leap before the chill of the night takes you.

Settling onto your knees on the edge of a cliff, you stare up at those three stars for only a moment before squeezing your eyes shut. In the back of your mind, you can see where you want to go, where you know you’ll be safe. It’s a place you’d only been once, during your early years of life, when your brother had snuck you out of the city for a day of fun. You could barely envision it now, but the thought of the bustling streets filled with smiling people and bright shops fills you with hope.

It fills you with enough hope that you’re finally able to make that leap through the nothingness, finally able to make that leap towards the place you barely remember.

Finally able to make that leap towards the place that’s kept you motivated enough to stay alive for these past two hundred and seventy six years, despite all of the horrors you’d endured. 

Upon your descent from the nothingness between places, your knees thud against cold stone. The sound of whirling wind is replaced by the sound of laughter and music, and what seems to be a river on the other side of you. 

When you gather enough strength to open your eyes, the sight in front of you nearly brings you to tears. 

You go unnoticed where you land, at the mouth of an alleyway near a closed bakery. Fae lights twinkle above you, all throughout the street that you gaze down, lighting the way so you can see dozens, if not hundreds, of smiling fae on the road. There’s a butcher on the opposite side of you, a spice market across the way, and a handful of bustling restaurants. It’s a beautiful sight, the relief that fills your chest is unmistakable as you realize this is the place from your dreams, the city that you’ve yearned for since you were a young female. 

The relief doesn’t last for long, though. 

A plume of darkness swirls around your knees as your happy tears fall, making your brow furrow as the light from above you seems to diminish. Your heart pounds in your throat as you finally dare to look up, catching a glimpse of midnight black boots before tears blur your vision. Your head is fully tilted up when you blink them away, and your gaze locks with a pair of dark hazel eyes for only a moment. 

It’s only a moment before you’re engulfed in shadows, and in that moment you know you’re probably not going to like wherever it is you’re being taken 

___________________________________

The dungeon is cold and damp, reminding you all too well of your old home, of the cell that your father considered to be your bedroom. 

If it weren’t for the fact that there was a mysterious winged male looming above you now, you would’ve been convinced that you were back in that same basement you’d been locked in for over fifty years. 

“You’re not a citizen of Velaris.” he states simply, eyes narrowed as he reaches for the dagger at his side. “You have a chance to explain yourself freely, explain how you ended up in the middle of the city. Or I’ll have no choice but to make you confess.” 

You cower away from the male then, back slamming into the wall as he takes a step towards you. Tears fill your eyes as you shake your head, mind immediately brought back to all those times that your step-father, and the others, came into your so-called bedroom to torture you. Shadows snake around your wrists and throat tightly, constricting against the skin in a way that makes you let out a strangled scream as you squirm.

“I–I’m sorry!” you yelp, squeezing your eyes shut as you shudder in pain under the weight of the shadows on your skin. 

“Just confess what your intentions are.” he demands cooly, twirling his blade in his hands as he stares at you with dark eyes. “Tell me what you’re doing in this city and I’ll think about sparing you.”

“P–Please!” you cry out, a sob falling from your lips as you stare up at him. “I–I’ll tell you anything you want, I’m from H–Hewn City. I–I winnowed here from the mountains. Please, please don’t hurt me, please don’t kill me.” 

Your lip quivers and your hands shake as you curl your legs up to your chest, hoping to make yourself as small as possible so he’ll have mercy on you. Your body is almost entirely numb now, only feeling the fear gnawing at you as you rock back and forth on the cold stone floor, pleading softly to be spared while the shadows finally loosen their hold on you.

He almost drops the dagger when he finally takes a good look at you. As he watches you repeat the phrase please don’t hurt me over and over again, something stirs in the male’s chest. 

A sob catches in your throat when you hear him stagger, looking up to see him staring down at you with wide eyes. He’d staggered a step away from you, something like shock written on his features as he hastily shoved the dagger back into its sheath. 

“Stay right there.” he says in a low voice, “My shadows are watching you. So if you try to move, I will know.”

You don’t have time to question what he means about his shadows watching you, as he all but vanishes into thin air a second later. 

A shadow skitters around your wrist after he disappears, but it’s a gentle caress compared to the way they bound you as you were shadow-walked into this basement by the elusive male. The darkness swirls around your skin, seemingly attempting to soothe the bruises littering your arms as you sit there, quietly awaiting your fate. 

Though he’s only gone for five minutes, it seems like you’re alone for an eternity before the darkness brings him back to the cell. He’s not alone this time, though. Two high fae winnow into the room after him, and your heart threatens to fall through your stomach when they step into the cell, into the light where you can see them.

The High Lord and Lady of the Night Court are standing over you, their presence all but taking the air out of your lungs as you attempt to scramble to your feet in order to bow for them, just as the citizens of Hewn City were made to do every time they visited. You fall to your knees when you try to stand the first time, all of your energy wasted on your final winnow into the city, so you opt for bowing on your knees in front of the couple. 

A soft and surprisingly kind laugh falls from the High Lord’s lips as you do, but you don’t dare to look up as your mind races. You don’t even dare to look up when you hear someone shuffle towards you, shifting onto their knees in front of your cowering figure. A gentle hand caresses your shoulder, and you finally dare to look up from where you were staring at the stone. 

When you finally do, you see the High Lady staring at you with kind eyes and a gentle smile, sitting knee-to-knee with you on the dungeon floor.

“Hello, it’s Y/N, isn’t it?” she says slowly, letting her hand fall from your shoulder as you sit up. Your brow furrows as you look at her and nod, unsure of how she knows your name. “I met you during our last visit to your court.” 

Your mind races as you think about the last visit from the Inner Circle to the Court of Nightmares, though you don’t remember much. You do remember drinking one more glass of wine than your step-father had permitted you to drink, though, which had made him mad enough to throw you into your cell at the end of the festivities. He hadn’t even cared that you hit your head on the stone floor as he’d locked you up for the night, which explained why you couldn’t remember meeting the High Lady. But still, you nod at the woman in front of you, feigning a smile as she studies you.

“We aren’t here to hurt you.” the High Lord says from behind her, flicking a piece of invisible lint off his shoulder. “We just want to know why you’re here and who sent you.” 

“I–I, nobody sent me.” you stammer, shaking your head as you hastily wipe a tear from your cheek. “I w–winnowed here because I came here once during my childhood, with my brother. We visited once and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since. He–He told me this place was the Court of Dreams, I–I don’t know, I didn’t even know where I really was winnowing. I–I just willed myself to come here because I wanted to be somewhere safe for once in my life.”

“Safe?” the High Lady says, brow furrowed as she continues. “Were you in danger in the Court of Nightmares?” 

Feyre knew the answer to her own question before she asked it, as Hewn City was not a safe place for many females like you, but wanted to hear it from you. Your lip quivers as your eyes flicker between the three fae in front of you, as you contemplate your next words very carefully. 

“It’s okay, Y/N.” she says gently, reaching her hand out to hold yours, but you cower away from the touch quickly.

Your heart races, immediately regretting pulling away from the female. You flinch at your own quick movement, sure that she or one of the two males behind her are going to hit you for the mistake, but the blow never comes. Her hand retreats into her own lap instead, sorrow and understanding swimming in her eyes as she looks you over again. 

“Would it be easier for me to read your memories instead?” she suggests, a sad smile on her face, “Rather than speaking about it out loud?”

You nod slowly at the female. Soon after, you feel a talon of power raking through your mind, making you gasp in shock. 

It’s okay, she reassures you through your own mind, It’ll only take me a minute, I’ll be out as soon as I can.

You swallow harshly, but force another nod as she focuses all of her energy into the expanse of your mind. It’s not painful by any means, but it definitely feels weird to have someone snaking through your thoughts, to have the High Lady of the Night Court viewing your worst memories from your time in Hewn City. 

As promised, she’s in and out of your mind in under a minute, leaving you staring at her with wide eyes as she looks to the High Lord who stands at her right. He gives her a knowing nod, as if they’re talking without words, and the High Lady stands up then. She looks down at you after standing, offering both of her hands to you in order to help you up. You hesitantly take her hands, slowly rising from the stone as she holds on to you. 

“I’m going to take you to our home, to get you cleaned up and let you get some rest, if that’s alright with you.” she suggests. 

You furrow your brow at her kindness, something you haven’t experienced in a long time, but mumble a quick thank you in agreement as she winnows the two of you from the dungeon. 

__________________________

It’s well past dawn during the next day when you finally wake, squeezing your eyes shut as the light hits your eyes when you roll over. 

You forget where you are for only a moment, shooting up in the large, comfortable bed to reorient yourself to your surroundings. You quickly remember that you successfully escaped Hewn City less than a week ago, and had somehow escaped interrogation from a very mysterious male and ended up spending the night in the home of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. The room you slept in was large and bright, the four-poster bed in the middle was large enough to accommodate at least four of you in all honesty. 

Once you relax slightly on the bed, you hear voices outside your room, two that you’d come to recognize as the High Lord’s and the male who’d attempted to interrogate you, who you still hadn’t learned the name of. 

“There’s no fucking way, Rhysand.” the male sneered, you could hear the frustration in his voice. “I won’t tell her, not like this.”

“Regardless of if you tell her, you will do as I say, you will ma–” the High Lord’s voice is cut off by a growl.

“Don’t.” 

Rhysand sighs in response, and you can feel the tension carrying through the hallway as you listen in. No more harsh words are exchanged between the two, and a knock on your door shakes you from your trance. 

“C–Come in.” you say hesitantly, unsure of what the males want from you. 

It’s only Rhysand who pops his head in the room then, giving you a kind smile as he looks over at you. 

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, to which you nod in reply, “Good. We would like to meet with you in the drawing room whenever you’re ready for the day. Nuala and Cerridwen left some clothes on the dresser for you, there should be any toiletries you may need in the en-suite bathroom as well.”

“T–Thank you, High Lord.” you squeak out, giving him a meek smile. 

“Please, call me Rhysand, or Rhys, okay?” he requests.

“Okay, Rhysand.” you say with a curt nod, though it feels wrong rolling off your tongue. “Thank you.”

He smiles at you again before retreating from the room, leaving you alone to get ready. 

Feyre had sent her handmaidens, Nuala and Cerridwen, up to help you get cleaned up the night before, but knew better than to do so now. You had broken down in tears when the females tried to help you undress, as the horrors of your past flashed through your mind at the feeling of someone else tugging at your clothes to take them off. Though you knew they meant well, you couldn’t help the places where your mind went in that moment. Feyre apologized profusely after, and assured you that you’d be left alone to get ready from now on.

So now, you get ready in solitude, slipping out of the sleep clothes you’d been given the night before. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror after sliding the shirt off your shoulders, the first time you’d truly looked at yourself in years. You were almost unrecognizable compared to the girl you once knew yourself to be, bruises and cuts littering your emaciated frame. It takes all your strength to finally look away, shoving down any emotions that threaten to bubble to the surface as you hastily throw on the black dress and matching shoes you’d been provided. 

As soon as you’re dressed, you exit the bedroom and head down the stairs at the end of the hallway to make your way to the drawing room. It’s almost impossible for you to get lost on the way, as you hear multiple voices carrying through the home as you step down to the first floor. 

You don’t expect to be greeted by seven fae adults and one child seated in the drawing room, all snapping their attention towards you when you walk into the room wordlessly. You recognize almost all of them as members of the High Lord’s Inner Circle, with the exception of the two females who look strikingly similar to the High Lady, since you’d seen them all at events in Hewn City over the years. The child sat in Feyre’s lap, so you assume the child is hers. 

“Y/N.” Feyre calls, smiling softly at you as she pats the seat next to her. ”Please, come join us.”

You’re hesitant to sit at first, but the promise of sitting next to the High Lady, who’s been nothing but kind to you, keeps you from denying the request. All eyes are on you as you finally sit down, perched on the edge of the couch as if you’re ready to run away at any moment, not an ounce of trust in your body as you stare at the fae in front of you. 

Rhysand goes through each person in the room, introducing you to everyone, ending with the male who tortured you in that basement less than 24 hours ago, who you now know is named Azriel. He only stares you down as he’s introduced, shadows swirling around his large wings as he sits perched on the arm of the couch opposite of you. You politely smile at everyone else in the room, but your smile fades as your eyes meet his, hurt replacing the fake-niceness you’d put on for the others. You swear you see a flicker of regret when you look into his hazel eyes, but it’s gone so soon that you’re convinced it wasn’t real.

“Right, now that introductions have been made, it’s time to discuss how our new guest will be fitting into the family.” Rhysand begins, looking your way as your brow furrows.

Truthfully, you’d assumed yourself to be a prisoner in this court despite their fair treatment. You’d assumed they would send you right back to Hewn City after giving you a good meal, that they’d send you right back into the grasp of your step-father, right back into the hell you’d lived before. But, it didn't seem like that anymore.

“Y/N, you will be moving into our other home named the House of Wind, where Cassian, Nesta and Azriel currently reside.” the High Lord explains, you don’t miss the way Azriel’s jaw twitches at the mention of living with you. “Although we are offering you a place in this court if you would like it, we cannot hide your presence from those in Hewn City, including your mother and step-father.” Your breath hitches in your throat at the mention of your family, heart aching as you think about what it would be like when they discover your whereabouts. “I will be informing Keir and your family about your choice to reside here, but I cannot enforce this without reason.”

“W–Without reason?” you ask, brow furrowed as you look up at the male. 

“Although I am their High Lord and will assure that they do not disturb you while you are in my city, I will have to give them a reason to not do so.” he continues with a nod, “I will be explaining to them that you are to be wed, Azriel, and we shall claim that the reason you ended up in this court was because you were pulled here by your mating bond. Though, none of that is true aside from the fact that you two will have to marry in order for this ruse to work.”

Your chest feels like it’s going to give out as Rhys continues to speak, your ears ringing loudly as panic takes over your entire body. You don’t notice the way Azriel watches you closely, the way his shadows flick towards you in order to soothe your panic and calm you without the others noticing.

The male who’d nearly strangled you with shadows and threatened to kill you was to be your husband, your fake mate. You couldn’t believe the situation you were in, it all seemed so surreal. But in all reality, you knew it was the only way to escape the fate awaiting you in Hewn City. You knew it was the only way to escape the constant abuse from your step-father and his friends. 

You don’t know how much time passes before you feel a hand rest atop yours, breaking you from your internal panic. 

Feyre is staring at you when you finally snap back to reality, concern lacing her features.

This is strictly for show, you do not have to do anything with Azriel that you don’t want to. Feyre assures you through your mind, her voice soothing in the sea of screaming in your brain. I promise you that we will keep your safety and comfortability a top priority in this court, you are safe here. 

You smile weakly at her and her mate, nodding slowly as tears shine in your eyes. 

“I will send word that your wedding will be tonight,” Rhys replies, giving you a weak smile in return, “but that it is a private ceremony. Only we will be present, since the two of you just need to exchange rings, so no need to worry about any of them intruding.” 

You blink back tears as you nod once more, the whole room silent as they watch you closely. 

You look over to Azriel then, taking a shaky breath as you try to collect yourself. The second your eyes lock with his, he looks away and stands from the arm of the couch, storming out of the room quickly. Another round of hot tears flow down your cheeks then, not caring that these fae you’ve just met are seeing you sob, not caring what they think about you in the moment.

The only thing you care about is that you’re to be wed to a male who couldn’t care less if you lived or died. 

Something twinges in your gut as you think about the hatred in Azriel’s gaze, heart aching as you worry yourself with the internal conflict of your new husband loathing you. You’re not sure why the hatred has you so up in arms, he’s only meant to be your husband for show, it shouldn’t matter, but you can’t escape the thought of how you thought marriage was supposed to be something special.

Before you can continue down your spiral of emotions, you shove your feelings aside and sit up straight, ready for your next instructions, because who were you to question your High Lord’s logic, right?

taglist (add yourself here): @acourtofbatboydreams @mich0731 @famouslywaiting @teenagellamaangel @alliex-o @dreamloud4610 @angelbunny222 @bookishbishhh @fanficscuziranout @buckingforbuckybarnes @thefandomplace @feyretopia @mad-hatters-lover @kissesfromnovali @mulledwinetea

[minnaci]

fushiguro toji x gn!reader · nsfw · wc: 1.4k

no pregnant, just breed.

contents: HEAVY BREEDING KINK (no pregnant, just breed, as the title implies), cumming inside (reader receiving), heavy daddy kink (reader calls toji "daddy", no age-play), penetrative sex (reader receiving), unrealistic cervix stimulation (reader receiving), one (1) brief check-in, self-aware over-the-top dirty talk (which both toji and reader semi-begrudgingly enjoy), gratuitous descriptions of cum, it's just self-indulgent smut i am cringe but i am FREE

reader details: reader has a vagina (referred to as a "pussy"), a clitoris, and a cervix. they are physically unable to become pregnant, which is implied to be a deliberate choice.

a/n: thank you to my beloved monty @shibaraki for sponsoring this truly self-indulgent flash-fic through @ficsforgaza! i got a little carried away... this was supposed to be around 500 words... ahsdkjf gg no re

"i don't wanna get pregnant, daddy," you choke the words out through every devastating, soul-wrenching thrust. his cock throbs inside of you. ah, there it is— toji's ever-reliable breeding kink.

you both know you can't get pregnant. it's no longer biologically possible for you, nor does toji actually want another kid. but damn if pretending you don't want to be bred full and heavy doesn't get toji going.

"mmm, i know, baby, but your body is just begging for it..." he pushes your thighs further against your chest, making your muscles ache with the stretch and letting him get impossibly deeper. the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, and you yelp— a real one, a pained one, nothing like the sugary-sweet sobs you fake when you really want toji to wreck you.

toji pulls back immediately. your pussy gapes, mourning his loss. "color?"

"green," you say. the loss of his touch sends tremors through your skin. you reach for him, and he comes to you easily, blanketing you with his weight and pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. "why? you?"

"you sounded like you were hurting, but i'm green if you are."

"you know i like when you hurt me," you say, letting your breath wash over the shell of his ear. you can feel the way his spine shudders, arches into you— all that power, all that desire, brimming under your hands. "and you were so deep, daddy, you were fucking my cervix. it hurt so, so good."

there's a tense silence. the beginnings of embarrassment make your cheeks warm. did you finally reach the limits of toji's depravity? was the dirty talk finally too cringe?

"baby," toji growls— a real, actual growl, what the hell— and captures your lips in a bruising kiss. "you're so fucking hot. what the fuck. why was that so fucking hot?"

with an internal sigh of relief, you mentally check "cervix kink" off on the list in your head. bingo.

"can you please kiss my cervix again?" you pout and cup his face in your hands, playing up the part of sweet, spoiled pet. "it misses you, daddy."

if his hands weren't occupied with lining his cock up with your needy entrance, you're sure toji would be pulling his hair out. he makes a hopelessly aroused noise— something close to a whimper, though you're sure he'd deny it if asked— and sinks back into you, inch by unyielding, unforgiving inch.

the tip of his cock finds your weakest spot again without much trouble. you can't help but clench tight, muscles contracting against your will as he circles his hips.

"there," you gasp, chest trembling. "right— right there, again, yes yes yes—"

his gaze sharpens as you sob and writhe on his cock. honestly, it's almost concerning how easily he makes your brain go fuzzy. pleasure clouds your consciousness, and you melt around his cock. any semblance of an act dissolves into nothingness as he fucks you with deep, devastating thrusts. "are all of those pretty noises for me, baby?"

"nnngh," you whimper through a truly devious roll of his hips. you're so full you can hardly stand it.

"mhm, very eloquent," he says, an amused crinkle at the corner of his eyes. for all that you know how to push his buttons, he know how to push yours right back. there's a deliciously patronizing edge to his tone when he speaks again. "there's my baby, using their big, smart words, like 'nngh' and 'ungh'."

"stop," you whine, protest breaking on a pitchy moan. it sounds enough like toji's mocking imitation of your noises that your cheeks flush with warmth. "you're being mean."

"i am, aren't i?" he purrs. the rough pad of his thumb finds your clit. your body instinctively tries to move away, overwhelmed by the sensation, but toji's weight keeps you trapped underneath him. there's nothing you can do but accept it— accept the firm circles against your clit, the aching pressure of the tip of his cock against your cervix, the heavy slap of his balls against your skin. "but you like it."

"no, i— i don't." an obvious lie. you both know it, based on the way toji grins at you, all teeth.

"silly thing." he tilts your hips up a bit, enough to bully his way deeper inside of you. "of course you do. look at you— just a few mean words and you're making a mess all over the sheets."

he's right— you're dripping. the slick, lewd sounds of your pleasure fill the room every time he moves his hips against yours. it's messy, filthy, wet— a perfect cocktail of hormones and arousal that makes your brain melt and leak out of your needy pussy.

submission comes easily enough when all you can think of how good toji is to you, how grateful you are to have a lover who knows your body even better than you know yourself. toji tears you apart with the hunger of a feral wolf, and the parting of your flesh under his fangs is sweeter than sin.

"feels so hot, daddy—" you gasp, clinging to him. heat pools between your legs, burning through the last of your sanity. he's your lifeline, your rock, the only thing preventing you from getting lost in this wildfire of pleasure. his cock is thick enough to rub up against every sweet spot you have without trying, but the sensations only grow more intense when he grinds his hips, stirring up your insides. "please, 's too hot, 'm gonna—!"

"go ahead, honey. give it to me."

his thumb catches against your clit just right, and the heat in your core boils over. you tumble over the edge, mind whiting out and eyes rolling back into your skull. toji's cock is big and heavy inside of you, and your pussy milks him shamelessly. the tip of his cock presses against the hungry mouth of your cervix in a lewd, aching kiss.

toji fucks you through your orgasm, letting you grind and ride out all of your shakes and shivers on his thick cock. he huffs a laugh as you finally flop back into the pillows, gazing up at him with a sweet, tired smile, even as your pussy flutters around him, aching for just a little more. "there you are. there's my baby, going all soft for me. you gonna let me breed you now?"

his cock feels so good that you can hardly think, much less speak, but raw, unfettered greed claws at your ribs, loosens your tongue just enough for you to mewl out a soft, "please, daddy."

to your dismay, he pulls out, leaving just the tip of his cock inside. he strokes the part of his shaft that he can reach, using your cum as his lube. the wet sounds are sickeningly hot, and your pussy reacts, kissing and milking at his fat cockhead as if to try and coax him just a bit deeper.

"fuck." his eyes lock on place where your body welcomes him in, still so eager, so wet. his stroking speeds up, a lewd little fap-fap-fap as his jaw hangs slack. "baby," he gasps, hips trembling. "baby."

"please," you say, mustering the strength to cup his face in your hands. he looks at you, looking nearly drunk on his pleasure. the sheer bliss in his dazed expression nearly makes you cum again. "please, daddy, please cum in me. my pussy needs it."

"fuck," he groans, capturing your lips in a messy kiss as his cock throbs out spurt after spurt of cum into your wanting pussy. with the way his cockhead sits at the mouth of your pussy, you can feel his cum leaking in deep, dripping down your walls to warm your aching cervix. finally, some fretful, restless instinct inside you settles, appeased by the warm, creamy dribble of his seed.

"so good." he squeezes his cock in his fist, milking out the last drops of cum. his fingers tremble as he guides his softening cock inside of you, using it to push his cum even deeper inside. "look at you, so sweet now that you've been bred. i should keep you like this all the time— spread open in my bed with my cum in your fucking womb. would you like that?"

"no pregnant," you say a familiar sort of sweet, post-sex giddiness washing over you. you giggle. "but okay."

he laughs, sounding a bit delirious himself. "of course, baby. i know. no pregnant. just breed."

networks: @houseofsolisoccasum @interstellar-inn

[zorosdimples]

pairing ⛧ yandere!diavolo x f!reader x barbatos

warnings ⛧ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. this is a doozy… implied toxic relationships, inhuman anatomy, monsterfucking, breeding, knotting, cervix fucking, dubious consent, pregnancy mention, lots and lots of cum, passing out, neglect (kind of), bondage and restraints, implied nonconsensual acts at the end. reader has a vagina and is referred to as “my little human” and “little one.” please let me know if there is anything i missed!

word count ⛧ 1129

notes ⛧ this is the first installment of the garden of earthly delights! i apologize for the wait; i hope everyone enjoys <3

you have never looked more beautiful—more his—than in this moment, diavolo thinks. the demon prince has one massive hand encircling your ankles, pressing your knees flush to your chest. his other hand cradles the back of your head with adoration, forcing your teary gaze to remain on him, a clawed thumb hooked between your swollen lips. his amber irises are nearly subsumed by his pupils, jet as the moonless night.

black spots cloud your watery vision as you slobber all over the digit, broken whines the only sound to leave your lips; the golden tips of his horns flash in your periphery. you’re on the verge of losing consciousness.

diavolo has been breeding you for hours. his long, thick cock—gilt, ribbed, impossibly large, and complete with a knot—has already stuffed you so full of seed that your stomach is distended. the viscous liquid, a rich cream with an otherworldly sheen, spurts out of your abused cunt with each of his powerful thrusts. the rest of it tingles hotly in your core.

“you can take one more, can’t you, my little human?” diavolo coos, breath unnervingly steady given the force of his movements. he leans down to smear a gentle kiss against your damp hairline before dropping your head and sliding his hand down to rub your puffy clit, plenty slick with the fluids coating your flesh.

“c-can’t,” you whimper. your nerves are fried and the overstimulation has your head pounding and your legs shaking as diavolo’s cock batters your cervix. your hands scratch and scrape at his chest in an attempt to get him to slow, to stop—anything—but your nails do not even pierce the prince’s thick flesh. the demon chuckles at your pathetic protests and his pace quickens in response.

hasn’t he taught you that you are not as fragile as you think?

“you can,” diavolo asserts, pulling out entirely. his crimson strands hang past his forehead and obscure his eyes, the glistering gold almost menacing as he leans over you. he strokes himself lazily, grazing his flared knot with a shiver, ready for his high. ready to see your womb swell with his heir.

“and you will,” he punctuates by plunging his cock and knot inside you in one fluid motion, a guttural groan rumbling from his heaving chest. your mouth stretches to accommodate a scream that never passes your lips. your body is aflame, dripping with sweat; the room fades into nothingness as diavolo’s hot cum pumps into your pulsing cunt.

the room is dusky when you awaken. your lover is gone, his warmth and ever-present touch absent, stillness in his place. the slippery silk sheets cling to you and glide along your curves as you sit upright. you clutch your forehead and curse the dull thump in your skull, a wince breaking the quiet. you feel a trickle of sticky cum ooze from you to join the wet puddle you slept atop like an animal.

the demon prince’s little pet.

a rustling sound draws you from your thoughts. a looming figure swathed in shadow floats toward the bed; you squeak in fright as you yank the sheets up to your neck in an attempt to shield your nude form.

“there you are,” barbatos, who you can now see as he emerges from the darkness, says. “i apologize for disturbing you. i am here on behalf of the young master.”

you breathe a shaky sigh of relief—the demon butler is your only friend in the lonely castle. “you scared me, barbatos. where’s diavolo?”

barbatos turns on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a faint glow. his eyes, emerald in the low light, shine eerily as his gaze meets yours. “the young master had to run to an impromptu meeting, but he did not wish to disturb your rest. thus, i am here to aid you in his stead.”

you furrow your brows. a meeting. you were once a member of the student council, privy to conferences and other social functions—until diavolo’s devotion to you got the better of him. (as a human, you are far safer being completely removed from lesser demons. and there is no one better to care for you than the prince of the devildom himself.)

you suppress your memories. “thank you. i can manage myself.”

instead of bowing and leaving, though, barbatos stands still. his forked tail sways at his feet and his skeletal horns gleam resolutely. after a few moments of deathly silence, you rephrase your dismissal: “i don’t need any help, barbatos. i appreciate you checking on me.”

the demon takes a step closer to the bed, his knees nearly knocking against the frame. “you do not seem to understand me,” barbatos muses, gloved hand delicately resting beneath his chin. if you were less disoriented, you would notice the hint of mirth in his tone. “lord diavolo ordered me to assist you, as he had to leave unexpectedly. i shall honor his wishes.”

the corners of the butler’s lips curl into a faint smirk, but no humor marks his visage. in fact, there seems to be a primal hunger lurking in the dark, verdant depths of barbatos’s irises. fear beams through your body. it starts in the pit of your stomach and spreads its icy tendrils out through your limbs, biting your fingertips. headache forgotten, you now feel faint; your heart skitters like scared prey. unconsciously, you pull the sheets around you tightly, temporarily shielding yourself from the humiliation that is sure to come.

“there is nothing to fear, little one,” barbatos soothes, smoothing a hand over your hair, matted with sweat and his master’s cum. the act is more patronizing than it is comforting.

the demon snaps his fingers and the sheets wrapped around you disappear. you scramble to cover yourself with your hands, but barbatos is infinitely stronger and faster than you are. his forked tail—cold and wet—coils around your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. another snap of his fingers, and your body is bound with invisible restraints. your arms are stretched above your head, almost painfully so. your legs are spread wide and bent at the knee; no matter how hard you try, you can’t move. there’s even a gag in your mouth to muffle your cries and force you to suck oxygen through your nose.

crouching between your open legs, the butler tsks. “oh my, what a mess.” his tail slithers up your leg and settles atop your womb. the slightest pressure from the appendage causes a stream of diavolo’s cum to rush out of your bruised hole. the demon’s snakelike tongue darts out and tastes the semen that is now pooled beneath your ass.

bartabos’s eyes meet yours and he smiles something wicked. “let’s get you cleaned up—shall we?”

[several-terrible-decisions]

Lucrecia tries.

Alive, she decides, just. Relief comes tremulously, and it doesn’t last; his chest does not rise or fall in a telltale rhythm of breathing, and he doesn’t stir. What state is this in which he exists? Has he brushed with death’s quiet embrace, only to be pulled backward into some grey inbetween? What could have kept his body from seeking the comfort of nothingness, after enduring such horror?

Read the rest of Here before and after me on AO3

*

Honestly? This just happened. I don't think I've ever sketched Lucrecia before, but it was a joy.

[jaynasti69]

Grey Ones No Evil No Sin

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Positions

Summary - The favorite positions of some of Middle-Earth's finest royals...

Warnings - Smut, language, fem!reader, afab!reader, mention of male genitalia (characters), mention of female genitalia (reader), missionary sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (reader receiving, Fili and Legolas give), facesitting, implied squirting, mention of bodily fluids, cowgirl position, mention of breasts (reader), sub/dom dynamics, implied dom!Reader, implied sub!Kili (he finds a way), praise kink (Kili), slight dirty talk (various characters), slight sensation play, doggystyle position/bent over, voyeurism (Thranduil stop fucking the reader in front of guards), slight dark!Thranduil, slight dom!Thranduil, slight sub!Reader, kneeling, slight dark!Legolas, dom!Legolas, lowkey mean!Legolas, implied brat!Reader, oral sex (Legolas receiving), fingering (reader receiving), slight powerplay (if you squint), possible dumbification (if you squint), implied punishing, cum eating, and maybe more (I might have missed some).

Pronouns & POV - She/Her, third-person

Pairings - Thorin x Reader, Fili x Reader, Kili x Reader, Thranduil x Reader, Legolas x Reader

Word Count - 3,800+ (I got carried away at some parts)

A/N - This is from my suggestion box which I had posted on Instagram (I will add the suggestion box here too eventually), the person who sent in this suggestion requested to not be tagged but I still wanted to thank them for their suggestion! This is more headcanon-like, so it varies a bit in length each section. I did attempt to give some plot based roughly around the suggestion given! There is only the header image in this post because Tumblr would not save the draft with the gifs I attempted to add, so I apologize for that! Reader is implied to have tits and an ass large enough to jiggle, soft hair, and I believe plump lips. Smut below!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

-thorin

Missionary. The dwarven king of Erebor is a man of routine. Whether intentional or nonintentional routines, they are a part of the raven-haired man's life.

He was a simple dwarf, viewing routines and structure as the utmost importance as it was there to prevent chaos—or as much chaos that was preventable within Middle-Earth, which appeared to be close to none.

The dwarven king's love for routine touched all aspects of his life, including the more intimate aspects of his bed.

It was not an intentional routine, but rather a formed one caused by stressors—something he often cursed, but in this instance would thank as it had led him to many pleasurable nights.

It was made gradually, the first few nights of the king's reign after the battle were particularly stressful. He found himself restless, tossing and turning within the fur bedding as his beloved lay beside him—lacking an equal amount of rest due to how the bed shook with each toss of his sturdy form.

So, to settle the king's mind—and to make the bed creak with something other than displeasure—the queen motioned for him to crawl onto her. It was a mere tired curl of a finger, yet the king knew what she was requesting; and what his beloved wanted, she got.

The thickness of his cock slowly split open her tired, wet walls. The weight upon his shoulders eased as the weight of his cock eased into her, a mixture of relief and exhaustion danced upon his face as his hips began to rock at a steady speed. The toned flesh of his hips met against the plumpness of her arse as he slowly wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing his tired cock to carve deeper into her walls.

An act which slowly drifted into nothingness, as the dwarven king soon fell asleep with his head in the crook of her neck after the heat of his seed flooded into her drenched core—coating the walls of her womb with a fresh painting of white.

As the stressors of the crown became more frequent, so did the nights of the queen's comfort. Though, at times that comfort extended into the daytime during particularly frustrating elven visits.

The all too familiar sight of the dwarven king climbing on you filled your view, yet the shade of his sapphire-colored eyes had dimmed with darkness reserved for the elven king of Mirkwood. You were aware of how much the pair despised one another, how their feud over who was owed what had led to death and devastation—yet, you had little time to dwell upon the past as the thickness of the king's cock pushed into your core.

The weight of your head fell back against the smoothness of the pillows, as the weight of your chest lifted upwards slightly, allowing your back to arch and your dwarven lover to gain further access within the warmth of your walls as he pushed into you. The bones of his hips snapped against the flesh of your arse with a rough fury, the slapping of skin meeting each other echoing throughout the room as his darkened eyes peered into yours.

The dwarven king would never vocalize it, but he loved watching the subtle reactions your eyes held as he pounded into you. He loved the ways your eyelids would flutter when he grazed your most sensitive spot, how you would go slightly cross-eyed when you neared your peak, and the way your eyes glistened with tears when he had pushed you to the breaking point one too many times.

Your reactions were routine, and the dwarven king needed routine just like a fish needed water or a wolf needed to hunt. You were his routine, and he needed you like he needed air to live.

──────

-fili

Facesitting. The golden-haired prince was far more free when it came to routines, unlike his uncle. The prince found routines constrictive.

Though he was the heir to the throne, the eldest prince of Erebor preferred to have freedom in his life. He wanted to joust with fellow warriors, to drink ale and dance, and to be free to slip away to breathe whenever he desired.

Yet, his yearning for breath seemed far distant within the realms of his quarters. As much as the dwarven prince enjoyed his pleasures, he favored pleasuring his beloved above receiving his own.

A fact that left you taken aback when the prince had confided in you that he found giving pleasure far more rewarding than receiving it; you had stood there for what had felt like ages to the poor golden-haired dwarf as you blinked mindlessly at him. Had you been dreaming? A man who wished to pleasure another rather than receive it?

"Are you jesting?" The question was quickly met with an amused snort from the prince; the corners of his lips curved into a lopsided grin as his thick, calloused hand cradled the side of your face. "I'll have you know that I take eating cunt very seriously, my love." The dwarven prince promised you.

A promise he showed swiftly.

It was not exactly perfect the first time—though, no first time truly was perfect—but it was unlike anything you had experienced prior. You were not a pure maiden, you had your fair share of lovers before the golden prince, and he had some prior flings as well, yet none of your previous lovers had ever been so eager to feast upon you before.

The prickle of his bearded face sent shivers down your spine as his lips hungrily sucked upon the wetness of your cunt. His hands tightly gripped your thighs, keeping you steady upon his face as his thick tongue lapped up the entirety of your cunt as he devoured you like a starved man with a meal.

Your thighs quivered around the sides of his head as you attempted to hover above him, worried he was not receiving enough air as he drowned himself in the wetness of your core. His skilled tongue delved into your crevices, lapping up every drop of your sweet, pure nectar as he snarled in pleasure.

"Sit on me." The heat of his words caressed your throbbing cunt, making it twitch from the arousing sensation. "But—" Before you could begin your protests, the golden-haired prince tugged you down upon his face.

A surprised gasp fell from your lips as the prince dipped his tongue into your core, happily spelling his name upon the walls of your core as his hairy face ground into you—drenching his beard and mustache with your essence.

The soft prick of his nails would dig into the plump flesh of your arse as his calloused hands held you steady, ensuring that the fullness of your weight would not leave his face until he made it so.

He would continue to feast at you, rocking your hips as he continued to swirl his tongue around your walls. Occasionally, he would slip his tongue out of you, allowing his lips to encase your pretty little bundle of nerves—hungrily sucking upon your throbbing clit until your sweet squirt gushed down upon his face, soaking his beard with your juices before he delved his tongue back your twitching core.

He would drink you like water—and if he had it his way, he would drink you more than he drank water.

──────

-kili

Cowgirl. The youngest prince of the Misty Mountains, Prince Kili, was not the most presentable royal of the line of Durin.

It was not a matter of his looks, though many would claim he was prettier to elves than he was to dwarves: it was a matter of his maturity. The younger prince was reckless, finding pranks and training far more entertaining than the duties of the dwarven courts.

Or, that is what he would claim when asked of his wavering sense of duty. The truth was that the young prince required guidance.

He yearned to be told what to do. The brunette prince despised how he had to ponder decisions, wondering if he would make the proper one or if he would make a fool of himself in the process; he preferred being told what to do and when to do it.

A yearning that had trickled into his nights of passion as well.

You were a breath of fresh air for the dwarven prince. The hopeless romantic of a dwarf thanked his lucky stars each night with you, as you were always to the point and told him verbatim what you wanted from him—and he was more than happy to oblige.

When you had first told Kili of your preference to be on top during sex, it was like a whole other world had opened up for him. He was not necessarily a virgin, but he was not the most experienced of his kin either. He had a few messy encounters that left him feeling less than satisfied and embarrassed.

Regardless of how hard the dwarven prince had tried, sex never felt right to him before his first night with you.

His honey-colored eyes bore up into your gemstone-colored ones, pupils dilated with affection as he watched you climb on him. The roughness of his calloused hands would encase the softness of your hips, lightly holding onto them as you lowered yourself onto his throbbing cock. The sensation was new to him, the warmth of your walls gripped him in all directions as the wetness coated him entirely as you began to glide on his length.

The bed creaked and groaned with each motion of your hips, his gaze falling from your eyes and onto the flesh of your chest which bounced and jiggled with each motion you made. He was utterly entranced.

A soft slew of moans would fall from his lips, the weight of his head tilting back against pillows beneath him as you continued to pleasure yourself upon the thickness of his cock.

"Fuck, please thrust up, Kili." A request the dwarven prince would eagerly comply to, his hips thrusting up to meet the plumpness of your ass each time you lowered it down upon him. "Just like that. Good boy."

Good boy. A simple name that further fueled the dwarven prince into abiding by your commands, doing everything within his power to please you in and out of his bed in the hopes of being called that delicious name once more.

And a good boy he was.

The dwarven prince was more than eager to please you. Never touched himself without your approval, nor did he touch you without approval—even now as he stared at your pretty breasts as they jiggled in front of his face, bouncing tauntingly as you bounced upon his aching cock.

His balls were filled to the brim with seed, becoming nearly painful from their fullness yet he did not dare release a single droplet without approval from his beloved. He simply lay there, allowing his cock to be used as a device of pleasure for the woman he loved most as she continued to coat the throbbing, aching length with her essence.

"Fuck...that's a good boy." The purred praise of your pleasure would cause the dwarf's cock to stir within your walls, desperately twitching for release. "Alright, alright. You've waited long enough." Your chuckled words would quickly turn to moans as the prince's hips began to thrust up.

His aching cock carved its way deep into your walls, hitting the most special spongy spot within your core in a repeated pattern—as if he was trained to give you pleasure even as he chased after his own. The prince would manage to milk a final orgasm out of you, the essence of your pleasure dripping down and coating his filled balls before he emptied his seed deep inside of you.

The weight of his body sank back into the plush bedding beneath him, as the corners of his lips would curve into a lopsided grin as your soft hands caressed the roughness of his stubbled face while you cooed soft praises to him.

He needed guidance, but he sought it most from you.

──────

-thranduil

Doggystyle. Unlike his dwarven counterparts, the elven king of Mirkwood found solace in his busy schedule.

Where some found stressors in royal life, the elven king found peace and comfort. He would never vocalize it, but he found the hustle and bustle within his daily duties as king soothing.

Perhaps it was how quickly everything transpired, never allowing him a moment to dwell upon the past and all the mistakes that lay dormant within it. Or he sought the chaos of life while others shrunk away in fear of it. Regardless of what it was, the elven king found himself entranced by things done quickly—and this extended into the realms of his chambers.

Though many elves were romantic by nature, playing sonatas of their love for one another, writing endless poems, and spending a tedious amount of time courting, the king of Mirkwood was rather forward.

He saw no point in the pleasantries of courting. After all, he was king of Mirkwood—in his mind, he had done more than enough just by holding that title. However, the king was wise enough to never vocalize his opinions on the matter, as he bit back any snide remark he had on the matter with a bitter grin as he focused on what was important: you were his.

A fact that was well-known to all within the woodland kingdom, as the sounds of your pleasure were ever-playing throughout the twisted halls. Morning, noon, and night. A tune that none could forget, one which the elven king seemed to orchestrate whenever he caught a guard's gaze lingering upon you for a moment too long.

The position was like second nature to you, engraved in the very cells of your body after so much time together with the elven king. Your arse was up in the air as your chest was pressed firmly against the smoothness of the silk sheets under you while the elven king slowly entered you. His thickness parted your wet walls, wetness you were ever thankful for, as the elven king did not seem to give you a moment of breath before his hips snapped forth, meeting the plumpness of your flesh.

His motions were sharp yet poised and precise.

The thickness of his length would delve deep inside of you, as his slender hands would grasp upon the plumpness of your rear. A grasp tight enough to hold you in place, ensuring that your hips never dropped as his thickened length continued to carve into your inner walls, yet loose enough to allow your ass to jiggle as his hips bounced off of it.

The elven king loved watching your ass bounce, it was something that left him hypnotized. The sight of your sweet, plump flesh reacting to his possessive thrusts allowed the weight of his days to melt away—as well as the anger he held towards that damn guard.

The cries of your pleasure would be muffled, either by a pillow or the very sheets you laid upon, as the elven king would lean forward—adding more of his weight into each harsh thrust of his hips.

Yet, there were times when you could not muffle the sounds of your pleasure—even when you desperately yearned to.

At times, the elven king enjoyed proving a point to those he caught with lingering gazes towards you. He would instruct they fetch you from your shared quarters, insisting they bring you to his throne room for something of urgency. And like a good servant to the king, they would.

Within the blink of an eye, you were bent over the twisted throne—your hands desperately clawing at the variously curved wooden throne as the elven king hoisted up your skirts; your dripping cunt on display for all to see, including that damn guard.

The elven king's motions would be swift and fluid, his cock buried deep within your wet, welcoming walls, yet his gaze would not be upon the plumpness of your arse. Instead, his cold, pale sapphire gaze would be locked upon the armored man who dared gaze upon you for too long.

His gaze would be piercing, never leaving the other man as the bones of his hips would snap against the plumpness of your ass, making each thrust sharper than the last—ensuring the swollen tip of his cock would hit against the most pleasurable spongy spot within you.

As your cries of pleasure danced throughout the air, it carried a weight throughout the woodland halls. A reminder to all those who inhabited them that the elven king moved swiftly, and could have you just as swiftly.

──────

-legolas

Kneeling. Due to the ever-changing nature of Middle-Earth, there were very few within it that gave the elven prince a sense of control.

Perhaps it was the nature of irony: a prince who believed he lacked control, heir to a throne yet yearning for more. His logical mind reasoned with this sensation, rationalizing it as nothing more than a search for stability amongst the most recent chaos within Middle-Earth. Yet, the emotional sphere of his mind yelled that it was for something more.

It was a thirst that the elf could not quench nor ignore.

The yearning within him was further than matters of the mind; it felt as if it was in his blood and bones. An unspoken birthright, one burned deep into the very essence of his being—he craved, no, he needed control.

And he found that control in you.

You were one, if not the only, consistency in the elven prince's life. Regardless of what transpired within the woodland realms—or realms outside of it—you were always there, waiting within the secure walls of his chambers, eagerly awaiting him upon the plush bed.

To him, you were a beautiful little doll. His perfect little plaything, the one he adored and showered with affection and treasures. He ensured that you were never left yearning—unless you had been bad that is.

On the days you were good, the elven prince would pull you to the edge of the bed, kneeling between the plushness of your thighs before he buried his smooth face between them. The wetness of his tongue would caress the outerness of your entrance, as the fullness of his slender fingers delved inside of your core.

As the fullness of his fingers would stretch your inner walls, carving and curving into the most pleasurable spots within your textured core, his eager tongue would lap up any droplet of your sweet nectar his fingers would push out. The squelching click of your damped cunt would echo throughout the air, accompanied by your soft mewls of pleasure as the elven prince took his time pleasuring you.

He was precise and calculated with each stroke of his fingers: he knew the inner workings of your cunt better than he knew the back of his hand—knowing exactly which sensitive, spongy spot to press into to make your sweet thighs tighten around the sides of his head. How fast to pump his fingers within you to make your breath hitch from pleasure, and when his lips needed to wrap around that sweet little clit of yours to make you drench his hand—and forearm—with your juices.

But on days when you were bad, or life merely felt bad to the prince: it was you who knelt.

His slender fingers, the ones that once gave you such immense pleasure, would be tangled within the softness of your hair. The grasp he held upon your head depended upon the circumstances of the day—but more often than not, it was firm.

The fullness of his cock would push into your mouth, tainting it with the bitter, salty tang of his precum as he would sink in as far as your throat would allow him—stopping when the vibrations of your gag would echo on his thickened length. Slowly, he would puppet your head upon his cock, making it bob back and forth as he slowly sunk more of his cock into your throat until the plumpness of your lips met the flesh of his abdomen.

"That's it, pretty girl." The elven prince would coo, his sapphire gaze boring down upon you, watching as the thickness of him forced the saliva out of your mouth—stained the faintest hue of white from the mixture of his precum—watching as it rolled out of the inner corners of your mouth and down your chin. "Such a messy little thing." He would continue to puppet your head at an increasing speed, the bones of his hips meeting the flesh of your face as he jutted his hips into your mouth; ensuring he was as deep as he could be within it.

If you had been particularly bad, then he would hold your head firmly in place—thrusting in your mouth at a quickened pace, allowing the weight of his balls to bounce upon your chin, coating them with the sticky mixture his cock forced out of that pretty mouth of yours. As you would cough and gag at the sensation, the elven prince would simply shush you. "Ah, ah, ah," He'd taunt, a purposefully harsh thrust making his balls slap against your chin as he held you steady. "you had such a nasty mouth earlier, why not keep it nasty?" He'd coo, one filled with fake care and compassion—a taunt at your previous actions as he continued to fuck your throat until he painted it white with his seed.

But on the days when you were good and the world was bad, he was far more tender.

Though his grasp remained firm and his thrusts a bit rough, the elven prince was not punishing you. With each gag, cough, or whimper that vibrated upon his cock—he would pull back until the throbbing tip rested upon your plump lips. "That's my pretty girl, such a good girl for me." He'd praise, a hand dropping from the back of your head to softly caress the side of your face until you gave the okay to continue.

A slew of pleased praises would fall from his lips as he fucked your mouth, the weight of his head tilting backward as his grasp remained firm on the back of your head. "I'm going to fill your mouth." He'd gasp out, the tips of his nails digging into the back of your head as his hips stuttered into your mouth. "Swallow it and I'll give you anything you want, my pretty girl." And he did, the warming rush of his salty seed would flood your mouth—making you down it with a choked gag, yet it was still done.

The elven prince would continue to praise you for being a good girl, his good girl, as he pulled his cock from your mouth. The tightness of his grasp dropped from the back of your head, one hand meeting the side of your face to return to the earlier caress as the other wiped away the remnants of his previous actions from your lips—giving him a sense of control as he came down from the highs of his pleasure, the same control he had once sought after.

──────

Want to read one part at a time? Read separately on AO3

Thorin, Fili, Kili, Thranduil, Legolas

Want to read it as book chapters? Read separately on Wattpad

Thorin, Fili, Kili, Thranduil, Legolas

[ghouldump]

Oh my goodness I’m so used to writing kind of forgot how to request?? would love a fic with Armand where he reveals his true nature not the soft version that he shows the reader but what he doesn’t and how she responds to that happy ending possibly?

I just need more Armand please and thank you

🎀💕🌸

Beautiful Deception, Untold Truth | Armand x Reader

ෆ remembering the truth sometimes hurts, but perhaps love will prevail

your request immediately made my mind go to beautiful deception, so i hope you don't mind me twisting that story a bit. so happy to be back writing, enjoy! xoxo

Waking up, you lightly groaned, looking over at Armand. He slept soundlessly, his arm loose around your waist. Slipping away from his grasp, you climbed out of bed and quietly made your way into your private office.

A large desk, a swivel chair, an up-to-date desktop, and a few wall decorations — although, you both preferred the minimalist scenery. Clearing your throat, you sat in the chair, rubbing your temples. Opening the drawer, you stared at the envelope, sent from Daniel Molloy.

‘I’ve done some digging, and I found something I thought you might enjoy,’ the note said, attached to the envelope.

Pulling the photos from inside, you had examined each one over a thousand times, since getting them a few weeks back. Older photos of you and Philip, some from your short time at the Grand Cabaret, a few random photos from your time in Paris, and your wedding photo. You remembered the day so vividly, your mother had been so angry, but you were delighted to be marrying him. You looked like a princess, and he, a prince. You could recount times people praised how beautiful of a pair you were together.

“You couldn't sleep?” Armand asked, standing at the door, making you jump.

“No,” you shook your head, laying the photos face down.

“Perhaps I should’ve cuddled you better,” he said lowly, peering at you.

“You were perfect, I guess I’m a little anxious about the book,” you said, as you began to put the photos away, a small note catching your attention. On the back of the wedding photo was written, try to remember your last night.

“There is nothing for you to stress about if anything, they will critique Daniel’s repetitive usage of the word, monster,” he said, watching as you slipped the envelope back into the drawer, accepting his hand. Grinning, he brought your fingers to his lips, placing a soft kiss on each knuckle.

“I love you,” you whispered, as he led you back into the dim bedroom.

“Not nearly as much as I love you,” he said, his free hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer.

“You don't know that”

“I’d burn the world down, and build it back up, to prove my love for you,” he said, smirking as you raised an eyebrow.

“And I would be by your side if it took an eternity,” you told him.

“I know, come now, you need your beauty sleep,” he said, watching as you climbed into the king-sized bed, before following suit.

Wrapping his arms around you, he kissed your forehead, as you closed your eyes, allowing sleep to embrace you, and welcome the deep slumber.

“Remeber your last night”

“Daniel?” you sat up, confusedly looking around, but were met with utter darkness. Armand was nowhere to be found, your penthouse, both gone. Standing up from the bed, you fell into a pit of nothingness. Screaming, you flailed around, grasping at the void. Falling onto the cushion, you sighed in relief.

“Y/n, remember your last night,” you heard again.

“What-

Sitting up, you froze as you stared at…you, or what looked like you. At the small desk, you wrote a letter, a few tears slipping from your eyes. Suddenly, it dawned on you, the night you were turned into a vampire. Your last night alive. It was only a few more moments before-

Suddenly the door burst open, Philip rushed in, terror covering his face. Locking the door, he immediately went to the small kitchen, pushing the stove in front of the door.

"Philip?"

You stood from the bed, watching him. It seemed like they couldn't see you, as you analyzed the situation.

Hearing his name, his head jerked around as he met your gaze. Rushing over to you, he stopped, seeing you back away nervously.

"Baby, please, I won't...just let me explain," he said, opening the manila folder.

"It started when you wanted to work at the Cabaret, I was so excited for you. You were going to have an entire page. My thoughts- I can’t explain how, but my brain began to get distorted and fuzzy, I can hardly think. Before I knew it, everything I wrote always ended up on fire. I came to your show and I noticed someone"

"You came to see me perform?"

"Always, this is your dream, and I will always support you, I promised," he said, pulling out the stack of photos he continued.

Rubbing your temple, it was like a memory was unlocked. He had come to your second show, the loudest voice and clapping in the audience, as he let everyone know the beautiful star was his wife. However, before you could ever see him, you would become distracted, talking with Armand — who brought along the extravagant bouquet of flowers.

"This man, he has come to nearly every show, since you’ve started working there. Front row, bringing you flowers," he showed a series of pictures of Armand, some of the photos you were in. His arms around your waist, his lips pressed against your own.

"Philip-

"Just listen," he shook his head, stopping you.

"I went to his theater, to confront him, to be a man and win my wife back, when I found this, in his office," he pulled out more photos.

"He has been watching you since we arrived here, from the moment you stepped off that ship, there are photos of you. Then, I searched around, and what I found is incredibly disturbing. Those aren't plays, they're actual murderings," he cried, showing the hardly developed pictures of the coffins and corpses in a box full of rats.

"I think he has been getting in my head, he can’t possibly be a normal human. Since I began to suspect him, I've felt like another person is living inside of me," he said, wiping his tears, going to his knees, laying his head in your lap.

"I waited until they all settled in for rest and I set the hell house on fire, I could hear the screams of all of those monster. We have to leave, now, we can go home, beg your mother for forgiveness, have a start fresh, leave all of this behind," he stressed, standing up.

Moving to your shared closet, he began to rip all of your clothing from the hangers, throwing them on the bed. You stood with your hand on your stomach, trying to process the photos. Indeed, there were photos of you from the moment you stepped off the ship. You didn't want to believe any of these bizarre claims, but here was the proof right in your face.

Watching all of this unfold, you were trying to not accept what your memories were telling you. Armand wasn't the type to mess with someone’s head unless they pushed him to that point of anger. However, he had shared what his gifts entailed, and it was all seemed very familiar.

Unexpectedly, the stove was pushed out of the way, as the door burst open. Armand walked in, his hair slightly disheveled, the most horrifying glare set on Philip.

“Armand, stop it,” you said, but he couldn't see you, walking towards the you of the past.

"Armand?" you called his name, hesitantly.

"Y/n, run," Philip told you, as you jumped away from the table, the paper catching ablaze.

"Philip-

"Run, now," he shoved you, right as Armand grabbed him. His hands around his throat, lifting him off the ground. Philip struggled, trying to free himself, gasping as fangs came out. Armand seemed to be growling at him, before sinking his teeth into him, determined to drain every ounce of blood from him.

"Run," Philip strained, as you covered your mouth, rushing out the door.

“You’ll never have her, you think she’ll love you when you're a monster” Philip choked up blood. Your hand went to your mouth, as the tears filled your eyes.

“She’s already mine,” Armand said, before setting Philip on fire.

Turning to run out of the apartment, it didn't take long to see yourself limping, barefoot, sprinting toward the small store.

"Sir," you called out, as you jogged to him.

"No, no, I'm closing," he pointed at the sign.

"Please help me, he killed him, he's going to get me," you cried, as the man finally turned to face you, genuinely concerned.

"Come in," he said, letting you into the store. As you came in, he locked the door behind you. With the adrenaline coming down, you could feel pain in your foot from stepping into the glass.

"We have to hide," you told the man, tugging at his sleeve.

"You go," he pointed to the back, before he went behind the counter, pulling a shotgun out.

Limping to the back of the store, looking back one more time, you screamed as the door burst open, the shop owner being killed instantly. As the elderly man fell to the floor, you cried out, before he appeared in front of you.

"Y/n," his eyes softened seeing your tear-stained face, all of your makeup running down, mixed with the tears.

"Please, don't kill me," you cried, shaking your head.

"Shh, shh, there is no need to cry," he consoled you, forcing your head into his chest.

"Why did you kill him?"

"Because he married you," he admitted.

"What are you?"

"A vampire," he shifted his eyes as you looked at his face.

"They weren't acting," you shook your head, trying to shove him away.

"Not at the end, no," he confessed. Wrapping his arms around you, he walked you out of the store. You continued to try to fight him, but he was much stronger, holding you effortlessly. Following behind them, you wanted nothing more than to wake from whatever this was, to question Armand.

Lifting into the air, you gasped in fear, realizing he was floating, no flying. Wrapping your arms around him, you shoved your face deeper into his soft coat. He smiled as one of his hands held your head. As your feet came from off of the ground, you flew behind them, to the museum building.

"We were out hunting, when I noticed you, stepping off of the ship. I could hear your precious thoughts, you were sure you'd be the next big star. You had dreams with no plan, so l sent Edward to you, and I made sure he paid you like the star you are," Armand said, as his feet landed on top of the museum.

"I showered you with praise and gifts of all kinds, and yet you left every night, going back to him, what is it that he could possibly have that I couldn't give you?" he asked, his eyes drowning in melancholy.

"He was my husband, he didn't have much, but I loved him," you cried.

"He wouldn't have given you the opportunities you can have, that you deserve. He would work himself to death, not without cheating on you to fill the void within himself because he knew he could never give you the life he promised"

"You killed him," you continued to cry. Rolling his eyes, he felt himself growing frustrated with you. Furrowing your eyebrows, you didn’t remember him having that reaction.

"Y/n, I love you, I love you more than his wretched human mind could ever think to fathom. I can give you the eternal gift, lavish you, treasure you, why can't you see, has your love for me left so quickly?" he asked, as he grabbed your face, forcing you to look into his eyes.

Glamouring you, he hoped to find the truth, that your heart hadn’t turned cold at the sight of him. Wiping the tears from your eyes softly, his hand trailed to your lips, brushing against them softly.

As frustrated as you were with him, seeing the situation to be a little more tainted than you thought to be — his confession warmed your heart. After witnessing him gruesomely kill Philip, something you didn't remember, you knew the beginning of your beautiful companionship was soon to com-

“I could never love you, after all you've done,” you said, crying. Your eyes widened, where was this coming from? Then you realized, could this be the truth, had you forgotten what truly happened?

“As beautiful as you are, you are a foolish girl,” he said, his hand going to your throat.

“Philip was right, you are a monster,” you struggled to speak, as his hand pressed against your throat.

“I hand-picked you, I chose you over hundreds of ancient vampires, to be worthy of my love, and you want to throw it away over one human? Don't be pathetic,” he said, through his teeth, you could see the tears building up in his eyes, the angry expression set on you.

“I’d rather die,” you spat, making him scoff, releasing you to fall from the top of the museum. Turning away as you screamed, reaching to clutch the air, a single tear fell from his face. Holding your hand on your chest, you cried, screaming at Armand, unable to believe this was what happened, but as time went on, it became more evident that it was true.

Just as you jumped in hopes of trying to save yourself, Armand flew off the building, down to you. The flowers in the extravagant garden broke only a bit of your fall, but couldn't stop the fatal landing. Lying in the rose garden, a few thorns pressed into your skin, your breathing was shallow, as your blood painted the white rose red. Attempting to shake your head as Armand approached you.

“What have you done?” You cried, staring at yourself, this version of you felt unrecognizable, yet undeniable.

“Leave me,” you said, your breath ragged, blood leaking from your mouth, but he ignored your words, lifting you into his arms.

“I can’t let him have you in this life and the next,” he cried, the fangs coming out.

“No, no, p-please, Armand,” you struggled, crying from pain and refusal, if vampires were anything like the stories — they could turn humans into their kind.

“Look at me,” he said, caressing your cheek, as you shut your eyes, you would rather wait for death to collect your soul than join him.

“Y/n, look at me,” he commanded, you couldn’t believe your eyes, he had used his gifts against you.

Opening your eyes, you faced him, as he caressed your cheek. “You have no need to fear me, we will soon be companions, equals, I, your maker, and you, my angel. You won’t remember what happened tonight, but I will explain to you later. Your love for Philip was not genuine, nothing more than a childish passion. I may be a monster, but I love you. Centuries, I have walked this earth, hundreds of years, of yearning and desiring what was mine. I hate him, and I would kill him a million more times if it meant having this moment with you,” he said, a few tears slipped from your eyes, as you stared hypnotized.

"This will hurt for a short moment, but our eternity together will make up for it," he told you, softly pecking your lips. Leaning down, he hovered over you, as his fangs sank into your neck.

Falling to your knees, your hands went to your face, and just as you cried out, you fell through the ground. Except instead of slipping into the dark abyss, you sat up, back in your bed, alone. The windows open, as the moonlight shined. Climbing out of bed, you grabbed your phone and rushed to your office.

“Miss Y/n, your meals-

“Get away from me,” you shrieked, shutting yourself in the office. Dialing Daniel’s number, you paced the floor, stopping to grab the envelope from the drawer.

“Y/n?” Daniel answered, surprised by the unexpected call.

“I remembered, everything, like you told me too, I married a him, after what he has done,” you cried.

“I’ll catch the soonest flight out there, just, try not to kill him,” Daniel said, sounding exhausted, before ending the call.

Sitting down, you opened the envelope, pulling out the photos to stare at. Suddenly, the door opened, and Armand entered.

“You didn't want to eat-what is the matter?” his face softened, taking in your face, puffy and stained with dry blood.

“Stay away from me,” you stood, backing away, as he looked confused.

“Did something happen? Did you have a nightmare-

“I don’t even know who you are,” you shook your head, as he slowly approached you.

“Love-

“You couldn’t stand the thought of him having me in life and death,” you said, realizing crossing his face.

“Y/n, angel-

“No, how many times have you had me forget, changed the story, made me into your brainless pet,” you said, backing away from him.

“I know, and if I could go back and change it, then I would-

“But you can’t Armand, you killed my husband-

“I am your husband-

“You killed my first love, and killed me after,” you said, making him stop in his tracks.

“I love you, Y/n, and I’m sorry for my actions,” he shook his head.

“Get out, I don’t want you back here until Daniel arrives,” you screamed.

He stared at you for a moment, before nodding in acceptance. Backing away, he glanced at you once more, before he left the penthouse.

“Daniel, thank you for coming out,” you said, embracing him. He was taken by surprise before he slowly began to rub your back. You weren’t dressed in your usual extravagant fashion, wearing bland loungewear.

Opening his mouth to speak, he stopped as the headache was coming back. Turning his head, he met eyes with Armand who stood in the entrance.

“I appreciate this, the readers deserve the truth,” you told him, before you turned your head, looking to Armand.

“Y/n-

Ignoring him, you walked to the table in the study, watching as Daniel took out his laptop and notebook. Armand followed behind slowly, sitting across from you.

“Y/n’s memories were suppressed and changed by her maker and companion, Armand. As of 48 hours ago, she has remembered everything from that night,” Daniel spoke into the recorder.

“Armand, is there anything you want to say…” Daniel continues.

“Five hundred years, I’ve wandered, loving others, but never receiving that same love. I admit, that my past has stunted my empathy toward humans. If I wanted something, I knew to take it and you were no different. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew, I would love you forever and unconditionally. As much as I desire your forgiveness, I will not force it. I ask that you remember after you were turned, our first hunt together, first time making love, our matrimony,” he said, his gaze focused on you, as the tears built up in his eyes.

“How different is your reality, from what you were told?”

“He was…unfamiliar and gruesome. He had been in Philip’s head for months, before it happened,” you said, turning your head. You couldn’t stomach talking about it, let alone looking at Armand — who couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Now that you are aware of what is true, has future changed? Do you see Armand still being a factor in your life?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, as he widened his eyes, staring between you and Daniel.

“You don’t know? Perhaps a legal separation or divorce-

“Divorce? Y/n, none of this is necessary, love,” Armand interrupted.

“You set Philip on fire, and threw me from the top of a museum-

“I didn’t throw you”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you let go after I called you a monster,” you replied harshly.

“Why did you do it, Armand?” Daniel asked.

“I was angry, it isn’t an excuse, but I was. He- Philip had burned down the theater, and the woman I loved, sided with him. I let her go, but the thought of her being with him again, I detested, when I needed her. My piece of humanity, only hours with her, left my cold heart feeling more alive than it ever was. When she hit the ground, I heard her bones break, her crying, it shattered what was left of my soul. I couldn’t believe what I had done to my angel, I had to turn her. I am sorry, but making you my fledgling, I will not apologize for, you are my greatest creation,” he shook his head, looking away as a tear fell.

“I need a moment,” he continued, standing to leave, as Daniel paused the recorder.

“How are you?” Daniel asked, hesitantly. You sat stiff but upright.

“My heartbeat is synced with his, he has been all I’ve known for almost a century, I just…don’t get it,” you said, accepting the Kleenex from Daniel.

“On your blog, you explained how ruthless the vampires were and how he seemed different, ‘Armand was my shield, he was feared by many, and being his companion, I was safe’,” he quoted.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“And suppose you forgot that he was a vampire of that time, he too was just as heartless, if not perhaps more. I mean, he had done a fair share of generosity, but it was all for personal gain”

“I don't understand what you're saying Daniel,” you told him.

“I am simply trying to break down every perspective of this story”

“You were having an emotional affair with him, while he pulled the strings behind the scene, sounds like something he'd do. I just have to ask, what hurt your worst, was it him killing Philip, or killing you?” he asked. Opening your mouth to speak, you stopped as Armand entered the room, keeping his eyes down. Pressing play on the recorder, Daniel cleared his throat.

“We left off with Armand’s excuse, although, he didn't explain why he wiped and changed Y/n’s memory. Would you like to elaborate on that?” Daniel asked him, making him glare at him. Groaning, he held his head, feeling another wave of the terrible headache.

“Stop it,” you yelled at him, catching him by surprise, before he put his head down.

“If she didn't remember, then we could pick up where we left off. As monstrous as it seems, it was very simple. My hatred and jealousy for him was far too strong, it was bound to come to pass. I apologize, Y/n, you did love him very much. I just ask that you would look past all of this and see that you were and will always be my angel,” he said before he walked away.

“Armand, you can't just- and he's gone. Armand has left the penthouse, and no longer wants to discuss what happened,” he said, before pausing the recorder.

“Continuing where we left, what hurt worst?”

“I-I don’t know, I would say him letting me go, he was my haven, and to just release me. The look on my face, as I screamed, reaching for him, I was so afraid,” you stated, as he quickly made a small note.

“Are you able to continue tonight?” he asked, setting the pen down.

“Of course, I will be fine,” you nodded, as he pressed play on the recorder.

“Now that you remember your concealed memories, start from where they had been changed”

“I was writing a letter…”

Waking up, you lightly groaned, looking over at the bare space. Your undead heart ached at the lack of his presence, despite your anger towards him. Two weeks had come and gone, the longest you had been away from each other, and as concerning as it may have been, you missed him, dearly.

Sluggishly climbing out of bed, and leaving the room, you couldn't remember the last morning you had been asleep, or the night you’d been awake. Raising an eyebrow at how chaotic the house staff seemed, you tried to think of what made today special.

“What is going on?” You said, stopping a staff member.

“I-for you miss,” the young girl said, directing you to the folder on the nearby table.

“This is a will…” you frowned, staring at the paper inside.

“Yes, from Armand, I believe he left a note,” she nodded, hesitantly. Flipping through the pages, your frowned deepened, skimming the contents. All of his assets going to his spouse, you. Just as you were about to question his motives further, you noticed the small note against the folder.

My angel, a star I thought was only meant for my stage when in reality, you are worthy of much more. Selfishly, I have sheltered you away, when you shine brightly. This time away, although agonizing, has given me a chance to think. There are no excuses I have for myself, I have found myself guilty, and I will deliver justice for you. To experience only a small amount of pain I have caused you is all I can lastly do for you in my final moments. You have made me feel more alive in our century than when I was mortal. I’ll love you in this life and the next, Armand.

Your fingers traced his unique cursive handwriting, as the bloody tears hit the paper, smearing the ink. It looked and felt fresh. Despite being so angry with him, you didn’t want this for him. He had done heinous things, but no vampire was innocent, and you still loved him.

“Do you know where he is?”

“I believe he may be on the roof,” she said, her eyes widening as you rushed out of the penthouse. The sun was set to rise shortly, and you had to get to him quickly.

Anxiety crept up from the depths of your stomach as you ran to the rooftop. Your time in Paris flashed across your mind. First meeting him, the terror as he murdered Philip, the first time he brought you flowers, the fear as you learned that he was a vampire, your first kiss, the pain caused by his fangs as he made you into his fledgling. He consumed your mind and you didn't know if you could take losing him.

“Armand,” you yelled, as you rushed outside.

“Has this view always been this beautiful?” he asked, his back to you.

“Come inside, Armand,” your breath hitched as he faced you. His beautiful stained with dry blood.

“I hurt you,” he said, disgust flashing across his face.

“I know, but you’ll hurt me again if you do this,” you told him.

“Releasing you from my grasp is what you need most,” he said, as you anxiously watched as the sun inched close and closer.

“What I need is for you to come inside with me, now,” you yelled at him, tears pouring from your eyes.

“Go inside-

“If you won't come along, then I will stay,” you argued.

“Y/n, don't be absurd”

“I forgive you, is that what you want to hear? It was a stupid mistake almost a century ago and if you can't accept that, then we will meet the sun together,” you said, as the sun began to move up your legs.

“Please, Y/n”

“No, I will not leave you to burn-

Armand hissed as the sun moved up his arms, but as it came across your skin, you immediately screamed. It burned, it was excruciating. In an instant, Armand had you in his arms, bringing you inside the building.

“I’m sorry,” he comforted you, examining your arms, as he held you close.

“Don’t go,” you cried.

“I won't,” he reassured you.

“Make me forget-

“No-

“Just once more, I’d rather oblivion than another moment of this mental warfare”

“I am sorry”

“I know,” you said, as he lifted your head, to meet his eyes, as he began to wipe your memories.

“Let me get this straight, you're recanting everything you told me?” Daniel yelled over the phone.

“Yes, I would like to keep the original story, Daniel, I will be sure to reimburse you for the inconvenience”

“Where is this coming from? What happened to the readers knowing the truth?”

“The truth is subjective, depending on who is reading will determine what they think is true. I will be in contact soon, bye now,” you said, ending the call.

“Daniel wasn't very happy with me,” you pouted, accepting the champagne glass, filled with blood.

“He will get over himself,” Armand said, as his hand wrapped around your waist.

“I suppose, I still feel bad I’ll have to make it up to him,” you said, leaning into his chest, as you both stared off into the beautiful lights of Dubai.

“Perhaps and what would you like to do about his gifts?” he said, motioning to the stack of old photographs.

Glancing over that the wedding photos, you picked up the only picture that included your mother and brother. Turning back to the window, the stack caught ablaze, crumbling into ash. Armand tensed up at the action, but you turned to face him, kissing his cheek.

“I love you”

“Not nearly as much as I love you”

“Oh but I think I do”

“Really now?”

“I think I could show you better physically, than with words,” you said, lust clouding your eyes.

“After you, angel,” Armand smirked, as you held his hand, leading him to your shared bedroom.

Guilt lingered at the back of Armand’s mind. He was inherently selfish, it was his prerogative — but you were the same. You didn't even realize you were just as messed up as him. You preferred having your memory wiped than to recognize the monster he was. The truth, your past, and death would remain untold, as you accepted your perfect life with Armand — your companion and maker, a beautiful deception.

a/n: guys, it feels so weird posting again lol, i enjoyed my break, but i missed writing on here so much!