#now look where i am. gushing over him with another man

[hey-cringelord]

to me, this is their S-support. intsys are just too cowardly to say it is

they care about each other soooooo hard and. AND! the blush. i see you🫵 mr dedue molinaro

[entitled-fangirl]

A Northern Lannister.

Cregan Stark x Lannister!wife!reader

Summary: the reader proves she’s worthy of being the Lady of Winterfell.

Warnings: blood, death, fighting, cursing, yelling

Masterlist

…………………………………..

They hate her.

She's sure of it.

They all hate her.

A Lannister lion in a den of Stark wolves.

Cregan was wonderful, and he made no actions that would lead her to believe he thought her less than for not being a northerner.

But the whispers were still there.

Their mother's last contribution to the earth, Y/n was born the much younger third sibling to the twins, Tyland and Jason. The two treasured her. Due to their significant age difference, she was much more like a daughter than a dear sister. So when she was to marry, they knew the beauty had potential.

And with the war looming over their heads, she was sent to Cregan in an attempt to gain the North's favor.

The greens failed in their attempt at gaining Cregan's favor, however, the girl had not.

He quite liked her.

She had a fire to her that he knew would cause trouble.

And he also liked trouble.

What a deadly combination.

…

"I assure you, I am no delicate rose, Lord Mormont," she said through gritted teeth.

He chuckled in amusement, "You're a mere woman. We will not have you discussing battle plans."

"Mere woman?" She scoffed. "I am your Lady of Winterfell. I am married to the Warden of the North- the man you raise your banners for!"

He shrugged, "My loyalty is to him, not a Lannister wench."

Her eyes burned with fury. "Watch your tongue, Mormont-"

"-Or what?" He taunted. "You'll have your Lord Husband take it? He wouldn't."

Her fists clenched so hard she swore her nails cut into her palm.

She couldn't cause trouble. She couldn't cause trouble.


She huffed and turned around, walking away from the man, ignoring his taunting words as she did so.

…

Cregan stepped up to his war table and looked around at the men, "Where is my wife?"

They all looked around and at each other, lost at what he meant.

His brows furrowed, "Where is my wife?" He tried again. When no answer came, he snapped at a servant, "Where did she go?"

The servant bit her lip, "I last saw her storming from the castle, my lord."

"What?"

…

Hours passed, and Cregan became more and more worried, but he couldn't walk away from his war table until the meeting was finished.

Luckily, she returned.

Mid-meeting, she threw the doors open, making all in the room jump from the sound.

She stood in the doorframe, covered in blood with a look of rage in her eyes. A bag in hand.

They all stood at the sight of the lady, utterly shocked.

Cregan's eyes widened and he immediately rounded the table to get to her, "My love? Wha-"

She threw the bag down and moved to Lord Mormont. "You."

Mormont frowned, "My lady?"

She gripped his cloak with one hand and swung at hard as she could with the other, breaking his nose.

All around the table gasped, completely shocked by the woman's actions as Mormont fell against the table, holding his nose when blood gushed from it.

Her rage was all but tamed, "CALL ME A WENCH AGAIN! I FUCKING DARE YOU!"

Cregan raced forward, pulling his wife back by the waist when she began to wind up for another punch.

She grunted and fought against him, "DO IT! FUCKING DO IT!"

Cregan held one arm around her waist, the other gently around her neck to push her head back against his chest and he whispered to her, "Stop this."

But she was far from done, "I'M A FUCKING STARK! A WOLF! MORE WOLF THAN YOU!"

Cregan tried again, "C'mon."

She looked around, noting the wide eyes, "YOU CAN BE NEXT IF YOU WANT!"

Mormont stood up now, the bottom half of his face completely red, "Control your lady wife, Stark!"

Cregan's brows furrowed, "Pardon me?" His voice lowered, "Did you call my wife a wench, Mormont?"

Y/n finally quieted herself, her chest heaving but her eyes glaring.

Cregan finally looked at her and really took in the blood, "Where did all this blood come from?"

She looked over to the cloth bag she left on the floor.

Lord Bolton crossed the room, picking up the bag and grimacing when he saw what laid inside. "My lord?"

Stark's eyes moved between his wife and the man. "What is it?"

"Two heads, my lord."

All eyes moved to her frame slowly, continually being shocked by the woman.

"Love? What happened out there?"

She pulled herself away from him and reached up, trying to wipe the blood from her face but smearing it instead. "Green spies."

He frowned, "How did you know?"

"Tried to take me back."

Silence fell over the group and Mormont decided to break it, "Perhaps they should have."

Instant rage fell over Cregan's face and he rushed forward, throwing a punch at the man, connecting with his jaw. "YOU BASTARD!"

Bolton stepped forward, "My lord. Please."

Cregan held the bloody Mormont up by his cloak, his jaw clenched as he growled the words out, "To the wall."

Mormont frowned, "w…what?"

"To. The. FUCKING WALL!" And he threw him to the ground.

Cregan then turned to the rest of his war council with equal anger, "Anyone else wish to spew insults in my face?"

When no one answered, he turned to his wife, whose anger had disappeared and surprise had replaced it at his actions. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, "Yes, Cregan."

He grunted and moved back to his place at the table. "Go wash yourself and return. You're needed here."

She nodded, leaving the room quickly.

"Someone get this Mormont scum out of here!"

…

The entire North heard of the Lannister girl's actions, and it was quickly forgotten that she was of Lannister blood entirely.

She was a Northerner.

There was no doubt about that anymore.

………………………………

Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor

[harpsinfinity]

Happy new year

Leon kennedy X afab!fem!reader

Genre: smut

Pls listen to this while reading (I hope it matches the mood)

New year's eve, 11:54pm. 6 minutes until midnight, until a whole new year where you could turn over a new leaf and commit yourself to your new year's resolution.

You were looking forward to celebrating another year, with leon. You'd been out for drinks with friends, nearly drinking yourself into a coma before Leon had decided it was time to retreat you and him home.

However, the last half an hour of your year had been occupied with Leon relentlessly pounding into you, getting you within arms reach of am orgasm before meanly stopping the motion of his hips. Bastard.

Clothes were tossed blindly across the room and the sound of skin on skin bounced off the walls. In the dim light, you could still see the muscles on Leon's body. Carved with years of hard work, resulting in what looked like the body of a greek god. Or at least sculpted by one, nonetheless it had your mouth watering.

"Leon, baby, please ! bein' mean"

By this point, you had tear-stained cheeks, sniffling as you had yet another high ripped away from you. Your hips trying to encourage his cock to hit that sweet spot and give you what you're wanting.

You body twitched and writhed in his hold, screaming for what it deserved, what it needed from him. Your hands adorned his back, the cause of the deep marks caressing it. Something to have to deal with in the morning, usually resulting in you either applying wound cream or band aids.

Leon looked up at the clock through the golden bangs of hair sticking to his face.

11:57.

blinking at him in red, blaring even. Before averting his gaze to your teary face, cupping it in his big, warm hand, thumb wiping stray tears with the utmost tenderness he could offer to you.

He had a plan, edge you over and over again until midnight. He was going to welcome you into the new year with one of the best feelings he can provide you. And he had three minutes until he could do so. He was determined.

"c'mon angel, just a little more"

his voice vibrates in your ears, wrapping around you in a honeyed-glaze as if to hypnotize you. Your eyes were practically focusing and unfocusing like the lens of a camera.

You whine as his lips slot over yours in a soft, warm kiss. As if to distract you from the multiple losses you'd endured. And, it worked. Your hand coming up to thread through the locks of his hair, returning his kiss with fluttered eyes and flushed cheeks.

Leon's eyes made their way back to the clock once more.

11:59.

He had 60 seconds to follow through and complete his little self assigned mission.

And like magic, his hips started back up again like how a wind up toy would. Pressing against that gooey spot inside of you and your tender clit in a frenzy.

From how sensitive your poor body was, it didn't take long for the warmth to spread in your lower abdomen again. Noises of bliss pushing past your lips, along with drool seeping from the corners of your mouth and slurred whimpers of his name.

Your walls hug him tight, as if it would be a crime for him to pull out now. Your hips bucked and bucked, chasing the orgasm you'd been withheld.

Your body shook and pleasures sobs wracked through your lungs in relief as you finally, finally, were going to get what you'd been begging for.

"that's it, give it to me baby"

And almost on cue, as it struck midnight, you gushed around him with a long, drawn out moan. The intensity of it increased from previous ministrations.

Through the blinding pleasure, the man's arms scoop you up against his chest. Whispering to you and running fingers through your hair with a kiss to your clammy forehead

Your ears drowned out the ringing of the bells and fireworks announcing the new year. Only focused on the buzzing bliss and gorgeous man ontop of you.

"happy new year, babe"

[eupheme]

mean wade or just him playfully making fun of you as he makes you cum consecutive times until you squirt? I'm so down bad for this man it's worrying 😭

Ohh I am 👀💖 anon! I went with a smug/teasing Wade for this (and also a sort-of follow-up to this fwb!wade drabble), I hope that is ok!! Thanks so much for sending this to me!

flood it | wade wilson x f!reader

800 words | multiple orgasms, fwb!wade, piv, squirting

It’s white against pink, as his lips stretch wide. Parting teeth as he pants, a stripe of red across his nose where his mask has been tugged up.

His scarred chin glossy. Smeared by the back of a hand, not more than ten minutes after he slipped through your bedroom window.

All too eager to answer your text. Still in his suit, grime worked into the creases as he laid you out on the floor of your room, unable to make it to your bed.

Your sleeping shorts had still been on, then - panties tugged to the side so his tongue could slip against your slit in greeting.

Record time, before your thighs were clamping around his ears, hips lifting into the air - hand stifling your cry.

The scarred tip of his cock rutting against your core, as your other hand clung to his wrist.

“Turned you a horny little monster, didn’t I?” He coos, “You still need it that bad?”

The sound of annoyance you make turns high, as he notches himself at your entrance - fitting every inch inside.

“S’okay.” It’s murmured out - just as he draws back, before hilting himself again, “I like that you can’t get enough.”

Another cry pulled from you, with the pump of his hips, the swirl of his fingers. Pleased - his lips meeting yours, halting the filth that pours from them.

He tastes like you, as you open for him, and that does more to you than it should. You can never resist him, that ache of want that lingers beneath your skin. Him and his mouth, and every inch of those six foot two inches, as he curves over you.

A hand splayed across the ankle that’s hooked against his shoulder. Near bending you in half, intent on finding the exact spot that has your nails sinking into the woven rug.

“There we fucking go. Bet you can give me another.” His hum low, when he finds it, “Bet I can make you gush all over my cock.”

You’re still not used to his enthusiasm. A late-night message sent in desperation that he was too eager to answer. Still intent on making up for all your supposed ‘lost time’.

Intent on making sure that your experiences with him eclipse all others.

“Can’t, Wade.” It’s sighed out - but even as his hips move, that dull twinge of overstimulation bleeds into pleasure, “Haven’t-“

But he only groans - the words husked out as eyes dip down to where you’re joined.

“You will for me.”

A greedy moment - his tone low. Possessive, for a flicker of a second, before he’s grinning.

“It was the request, after all,” He winks, his tongue peeking out, tasting you against his lips, “And I’m always happy to prove you wrong. Again, I might add.”

And maybe you want him too. Maybe it’s in the look you give him - heavy-lidded eyes, your hips lifting into the sharp snap of his.

A moan, at the slick way you grip him. Capturing your hand that slips down to help - pinning your wrists above your head.

“Uh uh.” Wade’s head shakes, “This is gonna be all me.”

The steady pound of his cock sending you higher, that deep pressure inside you building swiftly towards another peak.

“When your toes are cold because you ruined this rug by gushing all over it, you’re gonna be thinking about this.”

It makes you moan. This thing between you had gotten messy - deeper feelings caught somewhere between that first kiss to now. Don’t know how to tell him that he’s all you think about.

Not sure how to name the flip inside your belly - a tight, twisting ball of pleasure - so close to coming from just his cock. Your eyes wide as it begins to swell - his name whimpered out as you squirm on the floor beneath him.

“Fuck. Yes.” He pants, “Want you to fucking flood it, come on.”

Your gaze on his, when you do. Seeing how the white eyes of his mask widen - curving with his smile when your head tilts back.

Crying out, as he makes you come hard. As he fucks you through it, the sound filthy with the clap of his hips against yours. Leaking with each flutter of your cunt around his cock, dropping down to dampen the coarse hairs at the base of his cock.

Wade’s rhythm going sloppy as his ego soars - your foot slipping from his shoulder, wrapping around his waist just as his mouth presses to yours again.

Slick still leaking down his cock, the red leather at his groin glistening when he throbs inside you. Spilling with a rough groan, fingers pinching at your hips as he holds you flush.

Only then, does his other hand leave your wrists. Fingers entwining with yours instead, still keeping you pinned. A smirk, as he catches his breath.

“So.”

It’s huffed out, as the rock of his hips pushes another messy drip out of your cunt. His release and yours mixing together, just as it should.

“What else do you think you can’t do?”

[rebelliousstories]

His Girl

Relationship: Luke Alvez x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Suggestive Themes

Word Count: 1,095

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: When Luke speaks about his girl, people assume now that he is talking about Roxy. Although he does love his dog, he is not speaking about her.

“What are your plans for the weekend, Alvez?” Jennifer called out to her teammate who was packing up his effects.

“Just hanging out with my girl. Gonna take it easy the whole weekend.” He replied with a big smile on his face.

“Ah, date night with Roxy. Sounds like a dream.” She teased, beginning to pack up her own things.

“Yeah. Date night with the girl.” Luke reiterated; his mind wandered for a minute.

“Oh, big night I’m assuming?” JJ asked, stopping her movements for a bit.

“Not really. It’s just the first time we’ve been able to have a night to ourselves in a while.” He said, drumming his fingers against the desk.

“Who’s having a date night? What’s going on?” Garcia asked, coming around the corner with Rossi.

“Luke is apparently planning a big date night with Roxy.” JJ teased again, to which the man chuckled once more.

“Listen, tomorrow night. Dinner at my place. Spouses welcome for a family.” Rossi stated, looking towards everyone.

“Mind if I bring my girl?” Luke asked, whipping his phone out and beginning to type.

“As much as I love Roxy, we’re having a dog free dinner.” Rossi shot back, and Luke typed out a message before pocketing his phone.

“Understood. Text the details, but I’ve gotta get going before I get in trouble.” Luke bid them goodbye, and left the building. As soon as he got into his car, his phone rang.

“Hey, pretty lady. Yes, I’m leaving now. Yeah I can pick up some takeout. Whatcha want? Mexican? Alright, whatever my girl wants. Be home soon.” He hung up, and began to drive. All he could think about was getting home to his girl. The time getting the food was spent daydreaming about that evening. Arriving home, Luke poked his head around trying to find a sign of life.

“Baby? Anybody home?” He called out, looking around as he entered the apartment. The sound of nails clicking on the floor alerted him to his dog coming to see his owner.

“Roxy! Hey girl, where’s your mom, huh?” He asked, giving her lots of scratches around her face, ears, and chin. Footsteps followed the same path the Sheppard was just walking to the excited sound of a woman.

“Baby, you’re home!” Luke poked his head up and found just who he was looking for.

“Hey sweetheart.” He stood and opened his arms, to which she launched herself into happily. Luke picked her up by the backs of her thighs and walked them over to the counter to set down the food and his girlfriend. Pulling away just a little, he stood very close to her and shared a sweet kiss.

“I have missed you.” He whispered, ducking his head into the crook of her neck.

“I missed you too baby. How was your day?” She asked, stroking a hand through his curls.

“Good. Just a paperwork day. Listen,” he pulled away a little bit more, “there’s a dinner tomorrow night. Family BAU night, spouses included. I want you to meet my team tomorrow night.”

“Okay. Yeah, let’s do it. You got dinner for tonight though, right?” She asked, patting his chest. Luke chuckled and pulled away, and tapped the styrofoam boxes next to them.

“Right here, my lady.” He replied, feeling a chuckle bubble to the surface as he pressed another kiss to her lips.

“Well, let’s have dinner and I’ll show you how excited I am to meet your team finally.” She trailed a hand over his chest, and leaned into her lover.

“Ooo, I love the sound of that.” Luke responded, bringing her in for another kiss.

The next evening, everyone was gathered around the dinner table. They were just waiting on Luke to arrive, and talking about it in the meantime.

“So do you think that Luke is gonna bring Roxy? Cause I’m totally okay with that, even if Rossi is not.” Garcia gushed with a glass of wine in hand.

“Who knows? I mean, that is the only female Luke has ever mentioned in his life.” Spencer piped up with his own glass of wine.

“I know, but like Rossi said no dogs and I kind of want a Roxy exception to that.” Garcia commented. Just then, a pick up truck pulled into the spacious driveway of David’s house. They waited for the man to walk through the house and come into the backyard. Everyone turned to face the door to the house from the backyard,and watched as a man and a woman walked through that door.

“Who is that?” Garcia asked with her voice squeaking.

“Hey everybody.” Luke chimed in, walking with a hand on the woman’s back.

“Welcome. Who is this lovely lady?” David walked up to the couple, and brought the man in for a hug. She provided her name while shaking hands with the agent.

“It’s so lovely to meet everyone finally.” She stated, scanning her eyes over the rest of agents around the tables.

“Well, Bella, we are oh so excited to meet you. Come and sit.” Rossi held out his arm, looped hers through it, and led her over to the table. Luke chuckled as he shook his head and walked over to the table as well. Making her rounds of introductions, she learned each one of the other agents names while giving them her own. Luke pulled out her seat and made sure she was settled before moving on to getting into his own.

“So you’re with Alvez? I mean, how does he land someone like you?” Penelope asked, absolutely floored by the woman before her. She laughed as she held hands with her boyfriend underneath the table.

“Yes, we’re together. Um, well we met in a dog friendly bookstore. It had a little coffee shop attached and that’s where Roxy came up to me. She introduced me to her dad, and that was that.” She explained, looking over at her lover with a gleam in her eyes.

“Oh, that is straight out of a romance novel.” Tara piped in with, sipping her wine.

“It kind of was. I was shocked to find my dream girl in the middle of Barks and Books. But here we are.” Luke proclaimed, gazing right back at his girlfriend. Rossi raised his glass, leading the whole team in a toast.

“To the happy couple we did not know was here the whole time.” Glasses clinked, and cheers were started all around the table. Sips were taken, and Luke was glad that his team could finally meet his girl.

[moonbeamsandmayhem]

a/n: Eddie x fem!Reader. It’s been a while. Thank you all so much for bearing with me. This is a purely self-indulgent blurb/fic. Not beta read. Inspired after author watched Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire.

warnings: oral, penetration, dom/sub undertones if you squint, edging, reader with a vagina, Eddie being a little shit. I think that’s it! As always, please DM me if I missed anything.

October 31st, 1996 - 10:25pm

The candy had been eaten, scares given, and costumes put away for another year. You had gladly been on candy duty for a majority of the evening at the community centre, giving out treats, facilitating games for the little ones, and telling ghost stories to enraptured ten year olds who hung off your every word.

As for Eddie, he was running a DnD one-shot for the teens down the hallway. Occasionally you could hear raucous laughter and some profanities spew from the din. It brought a smile to your face knowing that he could still command a room like he had not-so-many years ago at Hawkins High.

But now, you’re home. In your shared apartment. Your legs are on his lap, while you balance a bowl of popcorn on yours. Your eyes are glued to the screen, watching as Dana Barrett and Louis Tully embrace, kissing passionately, the Keymaster and the Gatekeeper reunited at long last.

Your periphery catches movement as Eddie’s hand reaches for the popcorn before landing squarely (purposefully) on your thigh. You rip your attention from the TV to lift a curious brow at him, only to be met with a smirk. “Something on your mind, handsome?”

He croons, smirk growing to a full blown smile. “A few things, yeah,” Eddie admits, hand inching a little higher, “just thinkin’ about how killer you’d look in that dress.” He nods back to the screen, referring to the gown Dana’s wearing.

“You think I can pull that off?” You scoff.

“Sweetheart, you can pull off a god damn trash bag.”

“I’m not Sigourney Weaver, Eddie.”

“She’s got nothing on you.” He tugs the bowl from out of your grasp, placing it on the coffee table before giving you his full attention. Leaning over, he cages you in, forcing you full on your back against the couch. Eddie’s lips brush against yours, silently asking for permission, with a small peck against his, he surges against you like a man trying to quench his thirst. His hands are everywhere, as are yours, a whirlwind of disregarded clothes find themselves unceremoniously on the floor, but you’re both too distracted to care.

“You looked so hot in that witch’s outfit, babe. Was hard to keep it together tonight.” He latches on to the space where shoulder meets neck, sucking in a bruise.

“Y-you looked pretty hand - fuck - handsome yourself. The eyeliner, the fake-fangs, like something out of The Lost Boys, Christ, Ed’s.”

“Mhm. You like a bad boy, don’t ya, sweets?” Lathing the spot with the flat of his tongue. You shudder, eyes rolling back a little, losing yourself - did he say something? He nips at your skin and you gasp. “I asked you a question.”

“Could - could you repeat the - ah - shit - you’re distracting me, Munson.” You pout.

“Am I?” He looks at you with those big brown eyes, all faux-innocence and one-hundred percent mischief. “My bad.”

“Asshole.”

Eddie chuckles softly, “Guilty as charged. Now, are you gonna let me continue being a distraction or…?”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Yes.”

You cum three times. First, on his tongue. And he makes you work for it, pay back for calling him an asshole. He lifts you higher and higher then pulls his affections away, leaving fluttery kisses around your clit before he starts again. He does this four times until you’re nearly sobbing. It’s a rather messy affair when he finally lets you cum, snapping like a taut wire, and gushing all over him.

Still dazed and trembling from the power of your orgasm, he pulls a second with practiced fingers. Playing you like he plays his guitar, making you sing into the howling night. You’re begging for his cock now, begging to cream all over it, but he shushes you as he works in a fourth digit. You arch your back clear off the couch like a woman possessed, you cum harder than you have in your life.

Or so you thought.

When Eddie eases into you, it’s the closest thing to heaven you can imagine. He stretches you and fills you just right, the piercing on the tip of his cock finding that spot only he knows how to he reach. He presses his forehead to yours, muttering to keep your eyes on him. And you do, because how could you possibly look away? Not only does he fuck you like tonight is the last night on Earth, he makes love to you as if you’re the only two people left on the planet. Slow, self-assured, comforting, everything else dissolves around you. You cum so hard you see stars. Your lungs burn, robbed of air, as you clench and cream and gush. He empties into you with such a guttural groan of relief at the exact same moment, sweat beading his beautiful brow. He pumps, once, twice, a third time, then lays on top of you, satiated, dipping his head a little to nuzzle his nose against yours.

“You absolute menace.” You tease, with an exhausted smile, leaning forward to capture his lips.

“What can I say? Bustin’ makes me feel good, baby.”

[hp-hcs]

violent stalker mattheo riddle.... each guy and girl readers ever spoken to? damn wdym they showed up beaten up the next day and they dont even know who did it ????

i feel like he'd also get violent with reader and ykw .... im so insane id let him beat me bloody .

"i'm doing this because you're not listening to me, sweetheart. how else am i supposed to show you that trying to leave me is what you shouldn't do?"

hey uh, future requesters: giving me a line of dialogue or smth to build around means i’ll finish your request WAY faster. tysm anon 😭

requests open

prometheus — yandere! insane! stalker! mattheo riddle x gn! reader

wow! there’s a fuck ton of really fucking dark violence, murder, torture, manipulation, abduction, and horrific domestic abuse in this! please be careful if you choose to read this!

1.5k words!

i jokingly took a sociopathy test with a couple of friends earlier today and i scored like really high so uh dunno how to feel about that

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Am I…am I in trouble or something, Professor…?”

Professor McGonagall’s lips thinned and she looked at you over the rim of her glasses. She folded her hands together neatly where they rested on her desk before speaking. “Not for now, no. Relax a bit, dear. The law states that you’re innocent until proven guilty.”

“That’s not- that doesn’t really make me less nervous.”

The professor opened her mouth to speak again when a chime alerted her to an incoming floo call.

With a wave of her wand, the flames flared green and a genial-looking man stepped out of the fireplace. He brushed soot off of his robes and grinned brightly as soon as he caught sight of the professor.

“Minerva! Lovely to see you again. I’m afraid Quincy isn’t going to make it. Corbett is sick, poor thing, so he’s staying home with him today,” the man gushed, evidently quite close with the professor.

“Oh, send them both my well wishes, Hez, dear. Anyway, this is the student you asked to see, Y/n L/n,” she motioned towards you.

The man gave you a cheery grin—far too cheerful for this early in the morning—and held out his hand for you to shake. “A pleasure to meet you, Mx. L/n. I’m Auror Hezekiah Ackerly. I’d just like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright?”

You dubiously shook his outstretched hand, a bit put off by his bright grin that never seemed to dim. “Sure.”

“Wonderful!” the Auror pulled the second office guest chair closer and sat down across from you. “Let’s get the easy questions out of the way. Do you have many friends? Or maybe a small, close-knit group of people you regularly hang out with?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. The fuck kind of question was this?

“Uh, I guess a close-knit group?”

Auror Ackerly summoned a notebook and quill, writing quickly. “Who belongs to this group?”

Seriously, this felt more like being at a psychiatrist’s office than being questioned by a government official.

“Er, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger? And sometimes Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood?”

Seriously, what was going on?

“And do you have any…romantic relationships? Any troubles or issues there?”

Your eyes narrow. “What’re you playing at?”

“Cormac McLaggen was found dead in the Forbidden Forest this morning,” Professor McGonagall cut to the chase, interrupting Auror Ackerly. “You were the last known person to have spoken to him, and several of your peers attest that they heard an argument break out between the two of you last night after dinner.”

Your eyebrows shot up and your jaw dropped. “Dead? Wh- how?”

“That’s what we at the Ministry would like to know,” Auror Ackerly interjected smoothly. “You’re not in trouble, Mx. L/n, but I am here to escort you to the Ministry for questioning.”

Your jaw dropped.

They thought you did this?

~~~

You sat at a table, alone in some room deep inside the Ministry building.

You huffed, folding yet another paper crane from the stack of sticky notes Ackerly had oh-so-thoughtfully left for you after your interrogation.

You set the finished bird on the table, the small pile of origami cranes you’ve made while waiting slowly getting larger.

Peeling off another sticky note, you started folding another when a nice-looking man in well-pressed robes entered the barren room and stopped in front of your table. He looked down at you with mild bafflement.

“L/n, I presume?”

“That’d be me,” you mumbled, adding your newest crane to the pile.

The man smiled gently before waving a hand over your paper birds and enchanting them to fly.

You tried to hide your awe as you look up at the cranes that floated and soared around the room.

The man smiled at your reaction. “It’s quite nice to finally meet you, Mx. L/n. You’ve been the topic of many a discussion today.”

“I’d imagine so, yes,” you said dryly. “Not many teenagers accused of murder coming through the department, huh?”

He grinned. “Not really, no.”

The man pulled out the other chair at the table, sitting down across from you and rifling through the thick manila folder he held.

“Are you here to interrogate me some more?” You asked suspiciously. “Ask Ackerly, man. I already told him everything I know.”

He laughed. “No, I’m not here to interrogate you. I’m your lawyer, Mx. L/n.”

You blink. “I don’t have a lawyer. My family can’t afford that.”

“You always have the right to an attorney, Mx. L/n,” he said kindly as he held out his hand to you. “Octavian Foxglove, Esquire.”

“Y/n L/n, but you already knew that,” you greet, shaking his hand.

He smiled again.

He was a very smiley man.

He laid out the manila folder and turned it around on the table so that you would be able to see it.

The first paper on top was a copy of your school records, with a bright red PRIMARY SUSPECT stamped over the top of your picture.

You grimaced.

Your lawyer nodded sympathetically. “There’s a photo underneath that page, by the way. Supposedly the last photo we have of McLaggen still alive and, uh…it’s not looking great for you, in all honesty.”

You moved your school records page aside, finding a standard moving photograph paperclipped to the inside of the file.

It showed, quite clearly, you speaking with Cormac McLaggen in a hallway. Picture-Cormac angrily threw his arms up in the air and silently yelled at picture-you, while your body language in the photo loudly screamed ‘furious & upset’.

He was right. It wasn’t a great look.

“And there’s only one thing I need you to- oh, where is it?” He dug through the inside pockets of his robes, procuring a pen. “Aha! The next page has a simple contract. I just need a signature stating that you either accept me as your public defender, or would like to request someone else from the Ministry to handle your case.”

You nod, flipping the page to the contract he indicated. Mr. Foxglove smiled again and held the pen out to you.

As soon as your fingers made contact with the pen, you vanished.

~~~

You stumbled blindly, almost falling to the floor before a hand caught your elbow and steadied you.

“Easy, careful.”

You whirled around, surprised to see a different man in Mr. Foxglove’s clothes. He held his hands up in a non-threatening manner.

“Woah- slow down, kid. You’re fine.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m- was your lawyer,” he shrugged and smiled. “Augustus Rookwood, at your service.”

It dawned on you. “It was a portkey,” you breathed. “The pen. It was a portkey, wasn’t it?”

“Clever kid,” he sounded impressed. “Now c’mon. The boss wants to see you.”

You followed the man without complaint; half out of curiosity, half out of the knowledge that Augustus Rookwood was an Azkaban escapee charged with at least forty counts of first degree murder.

Pretty simple choice.

It looked like you were in a wealthy aristocrat’s house. Er, mansion, more accurately. The hallway you were walking down was old and stuffy and dusty, and the overall aura of Dark magic that permeated the very air of the house sent shivers down your spine.

Rookwood led you down a flight of rickety stairs to the first floor, and then down a narrow hallway and into a study, where he left you without another word.

The study itself was old. Everything was coated in a thick layer of dust except for the pristine and polished bureau right in the center.

(Obviously, ‘the boss’ was sitting at this desk.)

((Villains tend to be predictable like that.))

However, you were surprised to see that ‘the boss’ was-

“Riddle?”

He looked up at the sound of your voice, a wide grin spreading across his face as he hurriedly got up from his desk.

“Y/n, darling, hello!” He gushed, practically skipping over towards you before pulling you into a very uncomfortable hug. “Sweetheart- oh, I’m so glad you’ve made it here safely! Rookwood really is my only competent assistant; I must be sure to give him a raise.”

You froze up at the unexpected hug, your arms remaining stiffly by your sides. He let go after a moment, but remained just a bit too close for comfort.

“Hopefully the Ministry didn’t give you too hard of a time,” he rubbed the back of his neck with a guilty grin. “I promise Ackerly’s a good man. When he’s, y’know, in control of his own body.”

Your eyes widen and you take a step back. “What?”

“Just a little Imperius, darling, no worries. Did you like your gift?”

You blinked, thrown off by his rapid changes in subjects. “Uh- gift?”

He smiled proudly. “McLaggen? He won’t bother you anymore, see?”

All the color drained from your face.

“You killed Cormac?”

He nods, grinning. “Uh-huh. I heard what McLaggen said to you last night in the hall, and I don’t like when other people look at what’s mine.”

“Yours?” You repeat, your lip curling in disgust. “You’d better not be referring to me.”

Mattheo paused, looking at you in confusion. “What else would I be talking about?”

You scoff in shock, shaking your head. “Yeah, nope, I’m out.”

You turned around without further preamble, marching out of the room and towards the front door that you’d passed earlier. Mattheo laughed and followed you out of the study at a leisurely pace, seemingly unworried.

“Where are you going to go, darling? As far as the general public is concerned, you’re on the run after brutally murdering a classmate. You’re Wanted with a capital W, sweetheart.”

“I’ll figure it out,” you snarled, storming towards the front door.

“Y/n…” He warned, drawing his wand and pointing it at you. “Get back here. Now.”

“Fuck off.” You spat over your shoulder, not sparing him another glance.

That was clearly not the thing to say. As if in slow motion, you heard a dreaded word fall from his lips.

“Crucio!”

You were struck with pain that was so overwhelming, so blinding, so agonizing, that you were sure you were going to die.

You were only half aware that you’d fallen to the floor at some point as wave after wave of unbearable pain crashed over you. You could feel your bones creaking and grinding together, your skin splitting apart only to knit itself back together just to be torn apart again, like you were some fucked up wixen version of fucking Prometheus.

You were only vaguely aware that you were speaking, pleading. Pleading not for the Unforgivable to be lifted, but for him to just end it, end you, entirely.

“K-kill me! Kill m-me…please!” You begged, blood trailing down from the corner of your mouth and smeared across your chin. You must’ve bit your tongue hard for it to bleed like that, and the sting from that wound while you speak is just too overwhelming when combined with the pain from the Cruciatus Curse.

Then all at once, it stops.

You gasp for air, your entire body trembling and numb as you lay sprawled across the floor like a marionette with its strings cut.

Mattheo kneeled down by your side and cupped your face in his hands with a kind of tender gentleness that felt deeply wrong coming from him.

“See, I’m doing this because you’re not listening to me, sweetheart. How else am I supposed to show you that trying to leave me is what you shouldn’t do?” He cooed softly, gently wiping the blood from your chin with the sleeve of his shirt.

You flinched back at his touch. Your body—still wracked with uncontrollable quivers and trembles—tried in vain to crawl away from him.

“Oh no, honey- hey, honey- I promise it’s all over, okay? You were so so good for me. But you see now that you’ve got to stay with me, right?”

Your jaw quivered and your still-stinging tongue felt thick in your mouth, yet you managed to spit vicious hatred towards him.

“G-go to hell.”

A flurry of emotions crossed his face: surprise, anger, guilt, and disappointment; all of which were topped by the underlying aura of pure sadistic glee that exuded from him.

“Oh? Do you need another lesson or two before you learn?” He sighed and shook his head patronizingly. “Very well then, darling. Crucio!”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

taglist! @gayaristocrat @slytherinboysappreciation @lemonaderiddle @h-------n @yournogoodalone @knave-hearts @schaebickel @lexacantsleep @big-brother-problems @darkcharmx @cyberbl4de @amandajonhsson @megannxn @catz-80 @ghostiesen @fruityfrog505 @coysa @fruitypebblesstuff @mildlyuninformative @glittervame @cayaevans1 @lizeylavender @cloudydaysinmydreams @ironickarkatlover @ahead-fullofdreams @tachyon-girl @jaythes1mp @lovelyfandomqueen @ashisgreedy @mothermah3m @siuspider @ineedtogetalife11 @cherry-berry-ollie @cherriosxfish @a-hopeless-romantics-blog @fallingblackveils @ldrsog @linde0s @ghost-tyr @booksouflette @h0treader @maraudersforlife2005 @ahano @miah-macaroni @whatislifes-stuff @iara-ximena17 @goth-blackcat @dutifullyfuturisticwizard @docackerman @mizu-mc @tiacordelia02 @mingyuethesimp @luvlli @dracoshusband @verychaoticgay @thathogwartsjedi @lisbethpisbeth @remusily @daliah-xxo @rainy-darling @corinneeagles @sle1epy @averys-place @shibble @i-love-sirius-black7 @azu-202029 @artemismckinnon @lostboychimera @yukimaniac @annegrey

[ddejavvu]

rugby!james when you come to his game all dolled up and in his team colours and the entire team is drooling over you. so he picks you up and gets your legs around his waist and kisses you with tongue in front of all of them (he probably puts his big hands on your butt too. just to be safe)

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

--

"Well you're a fan!" You hear an amused voice to your left, and you glance up from where you'd been texting with James about your post-game meetup. It's another one of his teammates, Prewett by the looks of it, but there's two of them on the team and you're not sure which one you're talking to.

"Ah," You glance sheepishly down at your jersey and colored socks, matching face paint striped over your cheeks, "Yes, I am. I was-"

"Who's jersey you got on you, love?" He elbows the man next to him, Longbottom, "Betcha it's mine, right?"

"No way," Frank grins lazily, sweat beading at his hairline, "Mine, for sure. Y'see me make that pass earlier? Bet you want an autograph."

"Uh," You flounder, fingers tightening around your phone as you feel it buzzing with new responses. You don't want to be rude and ignore James's teammates, but you don't want to ignore him, either. "Actually," You whip your head around, looking for the familiar mop of curls that you tangle your fingers in, "I was looking for-"

"Me," Sirius drawls, amusement flickering in his eyes, "Right Y/N?"

You laugh lightly at your boyfriend's best friend's antics, nodding and playing along, "Oh, yeah. I've been looking for you all over, darling."

"Oh, my love," Sirius gushes, holding the back of his hand to your cheek and swooning, "My heart ached for you through the whole match. It was like I lost a part of my soul for every second I labored on the field without you."

Prewett and Longbottom are rightly confused now. Sirius is gay. And hooking up with Remus. Loudly. In the locker rooms.

Thankfully, Sirius's dramatics have given James enough time to run from the locker rooms, hellbent on finding you in case you'd come into trouble. His last six messages have gone unanswered, but the knot of panic in his chest loosens when he sees Sirius clutching at your arms.

He jogs over, hair bouncing with every step, "Oi! Black! Get off m'girlfriend!"

"She's all yours," Sirius scoffs at his best friend's protectiveness, dropping his grip on your biceps and glancing at his fellow platers, "C'mon mates. Y'don't wanna see what he's like when he gets his hands on her."

"So she's-?" Prewett makes the mistake of watching James hug you, the man's large hands flying straight to your ass, "They're together?"

"Aggressively so," Sirius drawls, nose wrinkling as he watches James kiss you far more boldly than is polite in public, tongue visibly lapping into your mouth, "Oh god, alright, let's go. Christ, at least I close the shower curtain when Remus and I fuck."

[smoshyourheadin]

yay!!!!!! mother is back!!!!!!

could i request a spencer agnew x reader where they meet at a bar and spencer ends up taking the reader home and it ends however you want

Butterflies That Flutter By

pairing: spencer agnew x f!reader

a/n: I. LOVE. THIS. anon u cooked w this. i went CRAZAAAAY!! two posts in one night who am i!! also sorry if u wanted smut i don’t feel comfortable writing it for real ppl!! charachters i can consider it tho ;)

warnings: if u don’t like mentions of alcohol or just a bar setting then this probably isn’t for u!! i’m sure ill catch you at another time tho <3

requests r open <33

saturdays are when you thrive. going out with all your college friends was just tradition at this point.

sitting at the bar in between anna and courtney, you complain about another failed date you had recently.

“ugh, he was just the worst! he was talking about his podcast the whole time, and then asked me to go back to his place? what do men expect me to say after that. ‘oh yes you talking about your alpha male, gym, i hate women podcast really made me so attracted to you’ like come on!” you turn to anna who’s laughing at you, with a sad stare, and she then is quick to put a hand on your shoulder.

“it’s okay! im sure you’ll find your man soon. isn’t court trying to set you up with that guy from her work?” she says to you, cocking her head to the side slightly.

courtney then chimes in, “yes! oh my gosh, her and spencer are literally perfect for each other! you need to meet him soon, you’ll love him!” she says with a wide smile.

“i mean, he is pretty cute…” you trail off.

courtney had been trying to set you and her friend spencer up for weeks now, and as she continued to gush about how spencer would appreciate your nerdiness and how you would adore his, you feel a tug of curiosity. ignoring the conversation for a moment, you make your way to the old street fighter arcade machine at the end of the bar. the familiar sounds of the game fill your ears as you slip a coin into the slot, your fingers itching to take control of your favorite character - ryu.

as you focus on the game, your mind drifts to the idea of meeting spencer. would he really be as perfect for you as courtney says? The thought lingers in your mind a bit as you unleash a flurry of moves on the joystick, losing yourself in the focus.

as you're deeply engrossed in the game, spencer enters the bar, scanning the room for courtney. spotting her animatedly chatting with anna, he makes his way over, a small smile playing on his lips. courtney notices him approaching and waves him over eagerly.

"hey, spencer! glad you could make it," she greets him with enthusiasm, nudging anna to make space for him between them.

"hey, court, thanks for inviting me!" spencer replies, returning her smile. his eyes then wander around the bar, landing on you as you fiercely battle your way through the arcade game.

courtney follows his gaze and grins mischievously. "oh, hey, look who's here! it's the girl i've been telling you about," she says, motioning towards you.

spencer's interest piques, and he watches you play for a moment, impressed by your technique. he can't help but notice how focused you are, your determination evident in every move you make. with a newfound curiosity, he watches in awe as you skillfully defeat everyone you fight with ease.

“hey…” you whip your head around and stand up straight from your practically bent over pose, as you hear courtney’s voice from behind you.

there, stood next to her, is possibly the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

he’s got beautiful brown eyes, and dark curly hair. with glasses. oh my. he’s dressed in slacks, tattered old vans, a flannel, and an old work jacket.

“um, hi court.” is all you can muster up to say to her.

“this is spencer, spencer this is the woman of your dreams!” she giggles.

spencer glares at her, but then smiles sincerely at you.

“so, street fighter, huh? you've got some serious skills," spencer remarked, impressed by your gameplay.

you glanced over at him, offering a small smile in return. "thanks! it's one of my favorite games. i've been playing since i was a kid. i think it’s one of the main reasons i decided to be a game developer."

courtney takes this opportunity to slip away from you both, leaving you to geek out together, and she rushes over to anna

“i told you! twenty bucks says they leave together!” she grins.

“you are so on!” anna replies.

across the bar, you and spencer are chatting it up, both leant against the wall near the machine.

spencer takes a sip of his drink before leaning in. "so, who's your main in street fighter?"

you grin, a rush of excitement at the chance to talk about your favorite character. "call me basic, but definitely ryu! i love his playstyle, and his hadoukens! they’re pretty gnarly."

"classic choice," spencer replied with a nod of approval. "i’m more of a ken guy myself. gotta respect the fiery spirit, you know?"

you giggle, nodding in agreement. "yeah, ken's cool. those shoryukens can really mess up the game though.”

he smiles at your reply, and the conversation flows on. you find yourself talking to him for the better part of an hour, eventually sitting at the bar with him.

“um, you don’t have to say yes,” he says, turning to you. “but, would you want to come back to my place?”

you smile at him, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear “i’d like that.”

and so, you find yourself walking back to spencer’s apartment and talking to him about how much you love zelda.

stepping into his apartment, you’re immediately greeted by an array of nerdy decorations that cover every corner. posters of classic video game characters lined the walls, and shelves filled with action figures and memorabilia from various fandoms.

"wow, you have quite the collection!" you exclaimed, taking in the sight with wide eyes.

spencer chuckles nervously with a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his head. "yeah, i might have gone a little overboard."

but to you, it’s like stepping into a treasure trove of nostalgia, and honestly? you were jealous. you eagerly made your way around the room, pointing out your favorite pieces and telling him about the games and shows you loved most.

"that's a limited edition link figurine, right?" you ask, pointing to a display on one of the shelves.

spencer nodded, a hint of pride in his voice. "yeah, it's one of my prized possessions! i also have a few special edition zelda figures."

as you continue to explore, spencer watches you with a mixture of awe and admiration. he had never met someone who shared his passion for all things nerdy quite like you did. It felt surreal to have someone in his space who not only appreciated but genuinely enjoyed his interests.

before long, the initial awkwardness of the invitation fades away, replaced by a comfortable ease as you bond over your shared love for video games, movies, and everything in between.

the night continues, and you end up making him watch your favourite film - perfect blue, which you watch in comfortable silence.

as the credits roll, you stretch out comfortably on spencer's couch, feeling the pleasant weight of sleep pulling at your eyelids. the movie is intense, and you’re exhausted from the day's excitement.

spencer glances over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he noticed your drooping eyelids. he gently reached for the remote and turned off the playstation you were using to watch it, casting the room into a soothing darkness.

"you tired?" he asks, his voice low and gentle.

you nod sleepily, snuggling into the cushions. "yeah, it's been a long day. sorry for almost falling asleep on you."

spencer chuckles softly, shaking his head. "don't apologize. it's actually kind of nice having someone to watch movies with, even if they fall asleep halfway through."

you smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. despite only meeting him tonight, you already feel a sense of comfort in his presence.

with a contented sigh, you let yourself drift off, the steady rhythm of spencer's heartbeat beneath you lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

later that night, as you sleep soundly against him, spencer can’t resist taking a picture of you, your peaceful expression illuminated by the soft glow of the tv’s ‘no signal’ screen. he texts it to courtney with a simple message: "she isn't too bad."

as he presses send, a smile tuggs at the corners of his lips.

courtney opens the message to see your face, her jaw dropping. she closes the messages from spencer, and immediatley texts anna,

‘u owe me 20 ;)’

[fistfuloflightning]

I am very curious about the bingfan wips if you don't mind me asking about them :)

By all means—I love gushing about these two idiots with you (and now that the SVSSS muse has returned from its unauthorized vacay I think there might be more down the line 😉 ) So thanks @pr0cyon-lotor for getting this jump started again!

The Hungry Ghost cafe wip is a modern au where high schooler LBH gets a job at a sketchy rundown restaurant that he learns caters to hungry ghosts in an effort to keep them satiated and away from living humans. Unfortunately one of his coworkers is Ming Fan, who sometimes bullies him in school but now is horrified that LBH now has something over him. But they’re forced to work together and slowly start to rely on each other and see each other in a different light. The restaurant is owned by married JiuYuan (ofc 😝), (…there’s a betting pool among the employees that one of them is a ghost but no one’s sure who). It’s kind of a slice of life type fic which is prob why it’s so disjointed and nowhere near publishing lol, it’s mostly a fun thing to play around with.

As for the BingFan teen parents fic… Pretty much what it says on the tin! On a mission, Ming Fan and Luo Binghe get caught in a patch of Airplane’s ubiquitous fuck-or-die flowers and end up having weirdly cathartic hatesex. Unbeknownst to them, the flowers share a symbiotic relationship with a special vine that always grows with it, which they only find out about after they’ve recovered…

He was still groggy from the forced sleep that had dragged him down, and he wanted to scour himself clean from the evidence of their… mishap. He glanced to the side to see if Luo Binghe was of the same mind, but he realized his shidi was not lying next to him. Luo Binghe was a few feet away, crouched over a patch of flattened, stained flora. Ming Fan realized belatedly why it looked that way and turned his head so his hair could hide his burning face. But Luo Binghe wasn’t even looking at him. Instead, he was making a concerning stuttering sound. Alarm lanced through Ming Fan. “What’s wrong?” he blurted, scrambling to his feet and darting to Luo Binghe’s side. The plant his shidi was hunched over was more of a thick net of vines twisted into one larger stem. And there was something moving in the tangled nest at the heart. Ming again frowned, wondering if his talismans were still in his ruined robes. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t. There was something… wrong. And then an infant’s cry shattered the pensive stillness. Ming Fan stared wide-eyed at the plant. “I recognize this vine,” Luo Binghe said slowly. “A couple who lived in the village I grew up in  were unable to have children.” Ming Fan was dreading where this was going. He flinched at another infantile cry and Luo Binghe began gingerly peeling the leaves away from the tangled nest of vines. “…They spent a night on the mountain and returned to the village the next morning with a baby of their own. Not one they had adopted or stolen, but their own flesh and blood. They said there was a plant that if two partners water it with their spend, it will grow a child.” Ming Fan pressed his eyes shut but that didn’t keep out the words. Fuck fuck fuck. Please let this plant be a man-eater that attracts prey with the sounds of a baby, he prayed. But the universe seemed to have it out for Ming Fan in particular, because Luo Binghe’s soft gasp was confirmation enough. Ming Fan’s eyes sprang open just in time for the last thin vine to be peeled away from the tiny, squirming body of a baby.

They bring it back to the sect and try to pass the baby off as an orphan to be raised by one of the other peaks but MQF recognizes a plant-baby when he sees one and gets excited about studying it (while also giving BingFan a crash course in parenting). SQQ is excited for a whole ‘nother reason: he’s shocked Ming Fan was the one to fall into that particular wife plot but is delighted to be a surrogate grandfather to the Protagonist’s first child, no matter how unorthodox.

They can’t live in the dorms with a baby so SQQ gives them an empty hallmaster’s house (marriages happen among disciples i.e. LBH/NYY in PIDW so it’s not that uncommon) Domesticity ensues.

Soon the entire sect knows Ming Fan and Luo Binghe had a child together despite them trying to keep it a secret and everyone the best congratulation gift is unsolicited advise from all Peaks.

It takes a sect to raise a child, and this one’s no different.

[buttercandy16]

Mine to Covet

(Dark!ReverendMotherJessica x Female!Reader)

Word Count: 3.9K

Summary: An unfortunate fate where your lover's mother wants to have you all to herself, and she's willing to do anything.

Warning(s): Dark fanfiction, Smut, Yandere, Dub-Con, etc.

A/N: I do love my yandere. Another anon also asked for a yandere/kidnapping fic and I'll probably write that one next. Also, English is not my first language so please don't come after me due to my grammar. Enjoy!

Gimme me more requests!! Please!

-_-_-

JESSICA’S POV

As a Bene Gesserit, I possess supreme levels of discipline, including complete control over my emotions and urges. So how is it that I can feel my blood boil in anger and taste the bitterness of envy violate my tongue as I watch my own son woo the woman he claims as his? Why do I feel the strong urge to cut off his hand the moment it touched yours?

At first, I was confused by this foreign feeling, so I grew angry with myself. I didn’t understand what it was.

It first occurred when Paul, my only son, introduced you to me. A Fremen girl he has grown to fancy. I remembered how he gushed over you, clearly seeking his mother’s approval, my approval. But no words from his lips reached my interest for I had my focus solely on the divine creature presented to me. With a barely concealed amusement, I observed your fidgeting form battling the urge to look me straight in the eyes, it was clear to me that you were nervous, the reason may be from knowing that I am the Reverend Mother or maybe because it is I who birthed the Lisan al Gaib or simply because I am Paul’s mother, it mattered not to me. What mattered was the pleasant feeling that I get from your presence alone. Such a strange girl… However, my amusement ended swiftly when Paul held your hand in his. My breath hitched and my once relaxed hand turned to a fist as my vision started to bleed red.

What is happening to me?! Why do I feel this way?! I remembered muttering inside my head. I felt as if I was no longer in control of my own body. Fear clawed against my skin and with great haste, I silently spoke the litany of fear to calm myself. Careful not to expose the battle within to anyone present. Unfortunately, I find myself feeling the same way right now.

Not long after realization struck me like a ton of bricks. The dreadful realization that I simply covet you…the girl whom my son is in love with. I want you as much as he does… maybe even more so.

I blame my late Duke’s death for having these thoughts. Perhaps it is caused by the sudden loss of the man I loved that pushed me into having these strong urges towards you. Maybe I see him in you and I'm feeling lonely. Or maybe I’m just truly damaged and deranged that my head is now filled with such corrupted thoughts. I am desiring something or rather someone I can’t have.

But you will have her… she is yours… the voices in my head whisper.

“No, she’s with Paul… She belongs to my son,” I whisper back as I look at you longingly while hiding in the shadows.

She belongs to no one else but yours… Yours to love… yours to keep… yours to defile… yours to consume…

“Stop it… You have no idea what you’re saying. I cannot hurt Paul like that,” I weakly argue back as my eyes start to water with tears. I love my son dearly and because of that, I will fight hard against the voices… against my feelings. But deep inside I know I’m fighting a losing battle… I know that I have already lost.

_-_-_

Time passed and bit by bit my resolve crumbled and the thoughts of my son turned into nothing. Now, all I can think of is you… and the millions of other ways I can have you.

She is yours…

Claim her…

She is yours…

Claim her….

Eyes dark with lust and pure deranged obsession I look at you once more while hidden in the shadows as I whisper to myself, “She is mine and I will claim her.”

-_-_-

Y/N POV

"You're so beautiful, " Paul whispered in my ear, making me smile.

We've been sitting out here for some time now. Watching as the sun sets for the night.

"We better go inside, Paul. It's no longer safe to stay out at this hour"

Paul nodded in agreement before he pulled me up with him and we started to walk inside.

"Oh, I almost forgot. My mother wants to see you," I stopped when I heard what he said.

"Why?" I asked, trying to remain calm as much as possible.

Truth be told. Paul's mother, the Reverend Mother, scares me. She’s a Bene Gesserit, she walks in the shadows. No one truly knows what goes on in her mind. All I know is there’s something strong about her presence, but something that felt forbidden and so wrong. She is beautiful as much as she’s dangerous.

In simple terms, I don’t trust her.

"Don't worry, she just wants to talk," he gave me a reassuring smile before leaving me in front of the Reverend Mother's tent.

After taking a deep breath I made my presence known by going inside. My eyes wandered all over the unique decor of the Reverend Mother’s tent until it settled on the middle where there’s a small table with two cups filled with some kind of tea.

“Hello little one,” a sultry voice whispered suddenly into my ear, breaking me out of my thoughts and making me turn to see the Reverend Mother invading my personal space so sensually from behind.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she continued with a chuckle.

“No need to ask for forgiveness, Reverend Mother. You didn’t” I lied, trying to remain calm as I felt my cheeks heat up from our proximity. “Paul said that you asked to see me.”

“I did,” Her eyes were on me, filled with intent that I failed to decipher. She brushed her fingertips across my shoulder, causing goosebumps to run along my skin before she motioned for me to sit on the carpeted ground right next to the small table.

After I complied she walked towards me and immediately joined me by sitting close to my side, our clothed thighs lightly brushing against each other.

“Have some tea, I have it specially prepared for us,” she said while gesturing for me to take it, there's a challenging glint in her eyes, daring me to refuse.

With no intention to displease my lover’s mother, I complied and took a little sip. The moment it met my tongue I was surprised to find it very cooling.

“This is good”

“Yes, simple but very soothing. But, you must drink deeply for the full effect,” she said with amusement dripping from her voice.

Without any second thoughts, I did what I was told, and the Reverend Mother seemed satisfied with this as I can see it in her smile. Soon I was holding an empty cup. I had drained it and yet, I’m still thirsty.

“Would you like some more?” she asked.

“Y-yes, If it’s not much of a bother, Reverend Mother,” I replied, self-consciously rubbing the fabric over my hips.

“Not at all, and please... Call me Jessica” she replied, her eyes glinting with something dark as she carefully replenished my cup.

 “As you wish, Jessica. May I know why I'm being summoned?” I breathed, my heart pounding in my chest as our gazes met before I took a generous sip from my drink. There was something undeniably alluring about her, something that both scared and excited me.

The weight of her eyes on me feels invasive like she could see through my cracks and discover all of my weaknesses. She’s watching me as if I’m her prey.

“You must understand, Y/N, I’m a determined woman. Whenever I have an agenda I’ll make sure to do everything in my power to achieve it. Whatever means necessary.” She muttered, leaning in close to my ear. Her warm breath sent shivers down my spine.

“Did Paul touch you yet?” Her tone was casual with her sudden question, but her eyes were anything but. 

“Wh-what?,” I stuttered, feeling my cheeks flush not believing what I was hearing right now.

“Have you given yourself to my son, sexually?” she leaned in closer to me.

“Uh, n-no,” I stammered, my body trembling like a leaf.

“Are you being truthful with me?” she purred, her fingertips ghosting lightly along my exposed neck. It was such a simple yet surprisingly intimate gesture that it made me feel like the tent suddenly caught fire from how hot it was.

I shakily nodded while she only looked at me with satisfaction.

“Have you taken his gift of water yet? Or yours to him?” she asked, scooting closer. Her smell was intoxicating and it made my head spin.

“N-no…not yet. He wants to wait until we are to be married.”

The Reverend Mother snickered under her breath and continued. “I raised that boy and taught him everything I know so he’ll rise and fulfill his destiny one day. But now, I’m starting to have second thoughts. It seems to me he’s just as weak as his father. A beautiful morsel such as yourself standing so willingly at the palm of his hand and yet he never thought about fully claiming you as his. So sure that you’ll stay right where you are. I guess he never thought about someone stealing you away. Such a huge mistake on his part but a blessing for me.” she said with a wicked grin, her delicate fingers tracing slow circles on my forearm as if she were teasing me.

But before I could respond, I noticed that the tent was becoming increasingly warm. Worse, I was finding my body uncomfortably warm. My face was becoming flushed and I was panting. My suit was becoming very confining. How odd, I thought. I grew up wearing this suit, but now I desire nothing more than to get them off.

My eyes landed on my now empty cup next to the Reverend Mother’s. That’s when I realized that she’d never touched her cup, not even a single drop.

She followed my gaze to her cup before catching mine. Slightly tilting her head, she then smiled knowingly.

“I-I need to leave” I croaked back, fear creeping into my bones as alarm bells started ringing in my head. 

But when I was about to stand up, I was immediately met with a sudden dizziness making me sit back down ungracefully.

It felt like my innards were being replaced by some kind of emptiness. I tried to stand again, desperate to leave the tent. I swayed just for a moment before the Reverend Mother caught me and pushed me down with my back against the carpet, a soft gasp of surprise leaving my lips.

She didn’t waste any time as she got on top of me and pinned my hands above my head in a tight grip, sharp nails digging against my skin but not breaking.

The Reverend Mother’s face was close to mine as she intently stared into my fear-filled eyes.

“Oh, no little girl. You’re not going anywhere,” she whispered above me.

Her face was blank from any emotion, but her eyes said it all.

“Did you poison me?” I whimpered. Her grip on my wrist tightened more than before, making me yelp in pain as she cut off the circulation of my blood.

“Of course not, I would never harm you without reason. Only to ensure your utmost obedience. The tea is for making you more pliant, not to kill.” she purred, leaning in close enough that our lips almost brushed. Her warm breath mingled with mine.

“What do y-you want from me?” I stammered, my voice barely audible.

She smiled maliciously at me before she started speaking.

“Isn’t it obvious, dear one? I want you.” one of her hands left my wrist and slowly traced my face with her fingers before she continued, “From the moment we met I already felt a certain pull towards you. I didn’t fully realize what it was until much later. Deep down I know you feel the same. That’s the reason why you went with Paul so that you could be closer to me.”

She’s starting to sound and look very much deranged. To my complete horror, she seems to believe her words to be true.

No…This can’t be happening. Paul… I’m with Paul!

I shook my head no but that was not what she was looking for. I yelped in pain from the sudden sting of her slap against my now-reddened cheek.

“Do not lie to me.” Her tone was assertive as she spoke every word.

“I’m not.” I cried weakly.

Another slap and tears started to run down my cheeks.

She leaned down and her warm wet tongue immediately tasted my despair with delight written all over her face. 

“I don’t like hurting you. But know that I will when I deem it necessary. So you better give me the answer that I want, little girl. Don’t test my patience. Try again.”

I only shook my head once more, refusing to back down. This made her chuckle

”Such a stubborn girl. I’ll enjoy breaking and reshaping you into my good little girl.” she whispered next to my ear.

Is she for real? My mouth fell open as I struggled to say anything. Suddenly I heard footsteps outside the tent.

“Mother, is Y/N still with you?”

Hearing Paul’s voice almost made me tear up with joy thinking that this would all come to an end. But when I looked at the Reverend Mother it seemed like I was dead wrong. Instead of seeing a look of panic, she gave me a wicked grin.

“She is… come inside, my son. I want to show you something.”

Paul entered the tent and suddenly froze where he stood when his eyes landed on us. The woman he sires pinned underneath his own mother’s body.

“Wh-what is going on here?” Paul asked as he looked at us confused.

“Paul, help me, please. Your mother has lost her mind” I pleaded as he went closer.

“Mother! Get off her ri–”

“SILENCE!” Paul’s words were cut off as I saw his mouth shut in command. His eyes were immediately filled with betrayal and hurt when he realized that his mother used the voice on him. But his mother did not care at all, “Kneel and do not move” she commanded his son once more.

I looked at her as if she lost her mind. Perhaps she did.

“Oh don’t look at me like that, little one. For it is you who made me this way” she leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek. I tried to jerk away but couldn’t. The kiss practically seared my skin like molten lava.

She pulled a dagger from under her robes and then turned towards his son, a slave to her command.

“You know very well that I love you, Paul. But unfortunately for you, my love for Y/N weighs more heavy. I won’t let you have her. She is mine…only mine. And you will watch as I claim her.” her attention then went back to me as she sliced through my stillsuit and garments beneath it. I am now completely naked to her eyes. 

My head turned to Paul and saw the same panic set in his eyes. We were both sobbing and fearful of what was to come.

She laughed maliciously and roughly gripped my chin to look at her.

“Open your mouth” my breath hitched as I felt her voice crawl its way into my head. Not a second passed and my mouth opened.

“Take the gift of my water and you shall become one with me. Take it and you will be mine…forever.” she whispered before spitting into my mouth, “Swallow” she commanded before her lips descended against mine.

Her kiss was violent, forcing her tongue past my gritted teeth.

The tongue quickly found its way around my mouth and explored every inch. In parallel to that, her hands moved around and groped my breast. She slightly massaged them and pinched the erected nipples. It was not that the events aroused me. It was the cold that made my body like that. 

The kiss ended after a while, me being out of the air while the older woman was looking crazier than before. She licked her lips another time before stripping her garments away. She moved and kneeled in front of my face, her warmth being right on top of my face. "Pleasure me, little one." She commanded using the voice commanding voice and I immediately complied.

"Yes!" She started to move her body up and down, making her juice splash on my face. "Now, get that tongue of yours at work, beautiful girl," She ordered and once again tightened the grip, forcing me to obey her order. 

I had to stick my tongue forward, forced to have a taste of the older woman. It was sweet and I couldn't stop myself from moaning from the taste of her. She also moaned at the feeling of my tongue inside her and moved faster until she cummed in my mouth. 

Just as I was about to let go of a sigh, my left leg was lifted, Jessica’s right leg sliding under it. "It is not the end yet! I still have a lot of things I want to teach your body." She pushed her hip forward, making our center meet. 

I can't help but admit that it started to feel so good, so good that I failed to notice that I was no longer under the influence of the voice.

She repeated to thrush several more times, bringing our center together and making them part, and then collide again. She started to moan once again as I did the same, her hands starting to play with my breast, enjoying every contact through my body. Until my first orgasm was ripped from me this evening, followed by the beautiful temptress who laid on top of me while catching her breath from her release. 

She looked down at me in complete amusement as I lay helplessly underneath her. 

Jessica kissed the tip of my nose before sliding her warm body over me. She then began to touch me once more, and that was when I started to squirm a little. She moved her arms around my body, rubbing it in a very erotic way. "So beautiful! I can't help but masturbate thinking about you every day. And now, you are finally mine." She put a hand on my knee and began to gently stroke my leg.

Oh no... please no more...

"P--please... I can't. It's too much" 

I struggled as I tried to pull myself away from her, but my body is still weak from the drugged tea and pleasure.

"Shhhh... I know you can. Just give me one more, little one. I just need to taste you." 

She settled herself in between my legs, parting them by force. 

She reached between my legs and pushed something. It's her finger against my clit, causing my back to arch. "Oh!" I gasped, head falling back. "Oh, oh—" 

Jessica cupped my left breast and mouthed at it, kissing and licking. I didn't know where to look but into her eyes, trying my best not to follow the sound of a silently sobbing man. 

I'm not sure what possessed me at the moment but I was suddenly desperate to taste her lips. 

"Kiss me," I begged. "Please..." 

And she did. Soft and sweet, holding me to her. Tugging my lip with her teeth and stroking my back, my butt. She took hold of my legs, cupping the underside of my knees. Bringing my legs around her waist, she rocked against me, teasing my lip with her tongue. 

I parted my lips for her, tasting her, sighing... Jolting when she tugged on my nipple. "Oh, ow, owie—, please don't—" 

I cried out with pleasure. This was so nice; it felt so good. 

She smiled at me. “You’ve got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, my beloved,” she said, reaching to touch me, pulling back the hood of my clit so she could rub me with her thumb. I shivered. “Look at this tiny clit. So fucking adorable, and all mine…” 

She proceeded to slide down my body until she was face to face with my dripping warmth. 

I gasped when she started to lick me and felt my stomach twitch, surprised and excited at Reverend Mother’s eagerness to please me. I felt her tongue trace the outline of my lower lips and shuddered. A moment later, the older woman finally slid her tongue over my clit, and that's when I felt my walls clenching in a sudden spasm, screaming in pure pleasure for the second time. Due to the intensity, I blacked out.

-_-_-

A groan left my lips when I woke up, my body deliciously sore. 

Slightly stretching, that's when I realized that I was not alone.

To my left, Paul stood looking down at me. Tears stained his cheeks, eyes full of hatred.

“P-paul… I–”

“Silence! I don’t need your excuse. You and I are over” Paul spits his words with so much anger that it hurts.

“But Paul, it was your mother’s doing… I didn’t wa–”

“SILENCE”

The command surprised me into shock. Having the Reverend Mother use the voice on me seems to hurt less than having Paul do the same thing.

“You will not speak ill of the Reverend Mother. For she is the mother of your people’s chosen and now… your intended... for you two are fully bonded as one”

Paul’s words confused me greatly. Why would he say such a thing after everything his mother did in front of him? But my thoughts were then silenced when I saw a pair of hands rest on his shoulders. The Reverend Mother’s face appeared next to his.

“That’s enough, my son. I think my beloved has heard enough. You may take your leave” she calmly whispered.

Paul did what his mother asked but not before sparing me one last glance and whispered under his breath… I’m sorry… and now completely leaving me alone with a predator hungry for my flesh.

“What have you done to him?! Did you use your voice?!” I yelled accusingly, but she only laughed at this before kneeling beside my vulnerable form.

“No, Paul is simply being a good son. I raised him well, he knows to never go against my will. I brought him into this world and gave him his birthright, he owes me as much.” She smiled devilishly.

She looked down at me with a predatory grin before slowly tilting my chin with her finger to meet her eyes. 

It was so dark and full of lust that it felt like I was about to drown in it. 

"So here's what will happen from now on, you better listen carefully because everything that is attached to your existence will be at play if I don't get what I want, understood?" I weakly nodded, no longer having the will to fight back. 

"Good girl" Jessica praised before caressing my cheek. 

"You will surrender yourself to me and in time I know that you will so willingly. The more you take the gift of my water, the stronger our bond grows. In the meantime, you will be my obedient darling girl. Whatever I say, goes. Understood?" Her grip on my chin tightened, emphasizing how serious she was. 

"Ye-yes" I stuttered through gritted teeth. 

"If you behave like a good little girl for me, I will reward you with anything you desire, but if you disobey... You will learn that I won't go easy on my punishment. Since that's all settled then, time to quench my thirst." 

"W-with what?" I fearfully asked. 

The Reverend Mother smiled at me before leaning in close, her lips almost touching mine. 

"You."

[celtigxr]

The Pink Dread (Master List) - - - - - ch. xiv: The Will of Man

Chapter Summary: It's going to be one very long night.

Word Count: 4429

Sneak Peak: “This your plan, huh? Finish off what you started?”

Warnings: Public intoxication, dirty thoughts, manhandling, angst, Brat!Valeana.

T H E  G R E E N S 

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Aemond had escorted Lady Maris back to her apartments after their time in the library. He was a bit surprised how easily he fell into a long conversation with her, and how it was not even forced. Maris was far more intelligent than he would have assumed; she had an interest in herbology and the medicinal purposes of plants. In another life, she could have been a maester. She even had her own journal she pressed flowers and plants in and wrote down information that she had learned from them.

She was different to Valeana, pleasantly so. She was intelligent in similar ways to him, and that made the prospect of courting her seem less like a chore. The idea of actually marrying her, however, was difficult to swallow, despite the distinct possibility that it might be a reality should he carry along with this charade. Though, Aemond supposed it wouldn’t be terrible. Their conversations were academic in nature, which he enjoyed. With Valeana it was almost never serious; she was quick to make jokes, or gush over superficial things like how a woman’s dress was made, or about a particular shade of green on a leaf she spotted. It was hardly stimulating, so Maris was a breath of fresh air when it came to his experiences with the fairer sex. It also helped that she wasn’t terrible to look at either.

Aemond did notice that she tended to ramble quite a bit, going on tangents about random facts that he either already knew about or didn’t interest him. There was one moment where she corrected him on the pronunciation of a common bush flower known to be toxic in large amounts, which annoyed him more than he cared to admit (he was positive that he was saying it correctly, having heard it a hundred times). He brushed it off, though, for the sake of the conversation and the obvious blush over her cheeks and ears that betrayed both her nervousness and attraction.

“Good night, my lady,” he had bowed and kissed her hand, a gentlemanly smile upon his lip. That blush came back as she bowed her head and gave him a stuttered good night before reluctantly closing the door to the tower. 

Aemond’s good mood was reflected in his gait as he trailed from the north tower, back to the Throne Room to reach the Holdfast. As he passed the shadow of his ancestral throne, Aegon intercepted him on his way out. 

“Brother! You’re looking very cheerful,” The elder slowed down his pace to turn to Aemond. “Coming back from Madam Sylvi’s? That is where I am headed right now.”

“My mood has significantly depreciated these last few seconds,” The younger pursed his lips and partially turned to Aegon’s direction. “Is there something you need of me, or can I go on my way?”

“I see the Madam is losing her touch, if you are already agitated so soon after her craft.”

“I was not–” He interrupted himself. Aemond’s eye shut upon realizing he was quickly losing his composure. However, simultaneously, the chorus of giggles, followed by gasps of women caught his and Aegon’s immediate attention. 

The following sight had rendered Aemond completely motionless, as the only thing he was capable of doing was trying to process what was happening. 

With a loud shout of: “Egg-On-Toast!” the two princes had come to the immediate understanding that they were in the presence of drunk wellbred women. A rare sighting to be sure, though such public displays from young ladies at such high standings could potentially ruin their reputation for the rest of their lives. And yet, he did not care; it was not his burden to bear. Except, among the three was a certain Valyrian blooded woman, and then he cared immensely. 

The one-eyed prince found himself fixated on Valeana as she stumbled on her feet and words 

Aemond was biting the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his expression as stoic as possible. The last thing he wanted was to expose his fascination and amusement over the entire situation… Particularly when Valeana jumped out of her skin like a startled cat when she noticed him. It reminded him of all those times he would scare her after jumping out from around the corner or through a secret passageway. The way her body would go rigid, eyes wide and mouth open and pulled downwards as she gave a strangled yelp, then cursing him to the hells afterwards. 

It was adorable. 

And gods dammit, it still was.

But then she had to go around and be a pain in his arse again, reminding him why he was actively avoiding her. Why her presence was much like that bush flower he had been talking with Maris about earlier: Toxic in high doses. 

“Prince Almond.” 

His eye narrowed at her challengingly, alight with his suppressed need to smile at her tenacity. Alcohol looked good on her. She looked so flushed and darling.

Aemond growled internally at himself.

“Please do not pay her any mind, my Prince,” Ser Erryk approached her and gently grabbed her arm. 

Valeana didn’t put up much of a fight when he tugged her back into his orbit, but she kept her bleary gaze on Aemond as if he would disappear, and reappear somewhere else if she looked away. In fact, she confirmed that is exactly what she was thinking when she pointed at her eyes with two fingers and then at Aemond, mouthing “I’m watching you.”

“I’ll bring her straight back to Maegor’s Holdfast as soon as I see to Lady Wylla and Lady Ellyn,” The white cloak continued. 

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Aegon stepped up and took Valeana’s other arm. “Your hands are full enough as it is, Ser– Erryk?” The knight nodded to confirm that he got it correctly. Aegon smiled, then placed his free hand on the woman’s other shoulder. “I’ll escort Lady Valeana safely to her apartments.”

“No,” Aemond immediately blurted without thought. “I’ll escort her back. ”

His declaration took everyone by surprise, especially Valeana, who openly stared at him as if he said the most offending thing to ever disgraced her ears. 

Aegon tilted his head, a curious smile upon his face. Devious and challenging. “Ser Erryk, do not listen to my brother. Lady Valeana will be much safer in my company”

The two princes were glaring at each other, placing Valeana right in the middle, causing her head to dart between the two. Meanwhile, the two other girls whispered and giggled to each other, something about being fought over by princes and a… spitroast?

The kingsguard also looked between the two brothers, then opened his mouth to insist that he will escort her back to the Holdfast, but Aemond was the first to break the tense silence. 

“Ser Erryk, I trust your wise and honourable judgment. Prince Aegon is…” He tilted his head down challengingly at his brother. “Unsuited to escort a vulnerable, inebriated, young maiden alone at night. It is wiser that Lady Valeana comes with me.” His voice darkened as he continued, common tongue dropped in preference to a more eloquent one. “Jikagon raqagon aōha līvi, lēkia. Issa daor aōhon bisa bantis.” (Go enjoy your whores, brother. She is not yours this evening.)

“Whadju just call me…” Valeana’s muttered question went ignored, as both brothers were poised to attack each other. 

The comment achieved the effect that Aemond desired. That smug face Aegon wore fell as every word was spoken. From the implication spoken in common tongue, to the language of their ancestors that he knew Aegon could not understand. Aegon openly glowered at him, nostrils flared and jaw clenched tightly in a scowl. 

And just like that, Aemond’s mood was elevated once more. He even dared to smile down at Aegon before turning to speak to the knight. 

“It is best you hurry along, Ser Erryk. It will take sometime to get Lady Wylla back to her brother, and I am sure that Lord Borros is wrought with worry for his daughter,” Without straying his eyes off of his elder brother, he reached out and plucked Valeana from him by a tug of her wrist. In her drunken, confused state, she stumbled into his chest, her head connecting to his sternum, tucked under his chin. Aemond was immediately overwhelmed with the smells of citrus, wine, strong ale, and the familiar pheromonal scent of her sweat.

Aegon’s eyes flickered down at Valeana, who was blinking in confusion, using her palms to anchor herself against Aemond’s chest.

“Oh my gods,” Ellyn whispered to her Northern counterpart.

“I know! This is the stuff bards sing about,” Wylla whispered back, eyes captivated by the show before her. 

“The room’s spinning right now, can we all just fuckin’ leave?” Valeana slurred tiredly, one hand massaging her temple. 

“Very well,” Aegon nodded and smiled stiffly, then looked back up to Aemond. His eyes went dark, “Don’t let her fall, Aemond.”

Aemond’s smirk faltered, especially because Valeana heard him and made a pathetic little whine. She went to reach for Aegon, and that made Aemond’s blood pressure spike, forcing his own hand to grab it before she could touch the other prince. And for a brief moment, he could’ve sworn he saw Aegon’s arm move, as if he were going to reach out for her in turn.

“You best get going, Cargyll,” Aemond said curtly, and then bowed his head towards the other two women. “Lady Wylla, Lady Ellyn.” 

Tugging her with him, Aemond turned to leave the Throne Room, but not without his charge dragging her feet as she tried to reach out for her drunken companions. 

“Do not worry! I can take’em– Just gotta stay on his left side. Won’t know what’s comin’. Fare thee wel–” With a sharp yank, Aemond pulled her out of sight.

Valeana dragged her feet as Aemond tugged her down the hall by her wrist. She whined, tugged back, slipped and then cried out. When the latter happened, he immediately stopped walking and turned to her sharply, but she appeared to be fine. Flushed from brow to breast, sweaty and frazzled, but otherwise… 

“You’re walking too fast, Almond,” She threw her head back in exasperation. “With yer stupid long spidery legs.” 

“You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” He sharply shot back. “You threaten not just your reputation, but your family’s as well. I need to get you back to your rooms as swiftly as possible, so make haste– Valeana!”

She dropped down to her knees, her arm limply suspended from where he gripped her wrist. 

“I did not ask for your help, Almond,” She twisted her arm feebly, trying to free herself from him. “Aegon could have–”

“Aegon,” he practically growled the name. “Aegon would have pulled you into a dark corner and taken advantage of you.” 

“You do not know that.”

“You do not know my brother like I do,” he narrowed his eye down at her stubborn form on the floor. “Though mayhaps that is what you desire. To be felt up like a common tart.”

Her brow knitted at that, then she blinked rapidly in confusion, “Whu-what? Didju just call me a tart, Aemond Targaryen? Did you not just call me a fucking tart?”

He huffed through his nose, “Get up Valeana, before more people see you.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she stood up straighter on her knees to make her point. “You just dug your grave, Targaryen. You think I was difficult before? I’mma make this night the worst godsdamn night of your miserable life, you one-eyed wyrm.” 

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Valeana made well on her threat. She did, in fact, make that night the worst night of his life. Aemond wasn’t even entirely certain how much time passed, but what he did know was that they weren’t even halfway to Maegor’s Holdfast. He had started by dragging her across the floor by her wrists, while she explained her marital plans with her co-conspirators, Wylla and Ellyn. 

“Wylla and Ellyn will marry my brothers, and then I will marry Lord Cregan, you understand. That way, we will all be good-sisters… And in a way, we will be wives to each other. It’s a brilliant plan, really.” 

Aemond was doing a good job at not interacting with her drunk babbling, but he couldn’t stop himself when he asked, “Does Stark know about this arrangement?” His tone laced with bitter exhaustion. 

“I am sure Wylla is presenting the same proposal as we speak.” Her eyes fluttered closed, then she scrunched up her face “Are we there yet? I lost feeling in my arms.” 

Aemond immediately dropped her arms and she flopped on the ground like a starfish. 

“We would have arrived sooner if you got off the floor.”

“But the floor is nice and cool, and this bloody castle is so hot, Aemond,” she whined. 

He ran his hands over his face from his temples, down to his eye in frustration. They were getting nowhere, and the hour of the wolf was upon them. At this rate, by the time they reached her family’s wing, it would be dawn and the servants would be milling through the corridors to fulfill their morning routines.

Impatient and resolute in not allowing her to get the best of him, Aemond bent over, hauled her up from the floor, and then slung her over his shoulder. She gave an unladylike groan at the contact of her stomach being pressed against his narrow shoulder bone. She weighed like a sack of lead, but Aemond secured her legs and strode forward. 

He couldn’t move as swiftly as he would have liked, but they were making more ground this way. It was easier to dodge oncoming guards, as well, but the caveat was her kicking and slapping his back and rear like a war drum. 

“You have a very pert arse, Almond,” she had said after giving it another slap with a weak hand. He hardly could feel it through his leather breeches, but it was enough for heat to reach the tip of his ears. Out of irritation, of course, not for any other reason.

Then Valeana began to groan and moan, and when she stopped kicking about, he felt a tentative tap on his back. 

“P-put me down, Ae-aemond.”

“As much as I desire to, I am not wasting any—”

“‘M gonna to be sick,” her meek confession was enough for him to immediately stop walking and bend slightly to place her on her feet. She wasted no time to clammer against the wall until she found a narrow window that looked over the side of the cliffs. He shut his eye when he heard her heave, followed by the tell-tale sound of watery contents exiting her gullet, and splashing down the side of the Red Keep. 

Aemond leaned against the stone wall and patiently waited for her, eye remaining closed and trying to disassociate to any place that wasn’t his reality. Perhaps he should have let Aegon escort her back… Whatever would have happened between the two wouldn’t be much different to what he came upon the other night, and more importantly, it was not his business. Valeana was not a friend to him and vice versa. Not to mention, the present moment just killed any remnants of attraction he shamefully and subconsciously harboured. 

Finally, Valeana pulled away from the window, using her sleeves to wipe at her mouth and chin. She had a pained expression on her pink face when she settled her side against the wall. 

“That is the price you pay for overindulging in drink,” his berate was softer than he’d intended. 

She sent him a withering look, “Why did you insist on escorting me back, Aemond?”

There was some surprising clarity in her words, almost like she had purged the source of her befuddlement just enough to think and speak coherently. The problem was he didn’t have a good answer, at least one that would satiate her and not make him look like a fool. 

“Aegon cannot be trusted with—”

She groaned and rolled her eyes, “Aegon…Aegon… It’s not about him. Many guards have crossed our paths since you dragged me off. You have avoided them, when you could have just pawned me off to them, effectively unburdening yourself.”

“I do not trust–” He thinned his lips, and turned away before correcting himself, placing the view of her face at his blind spot. “Outside the kingsguard, the guards patrolling the keep are just as weak-willed as any man.”

“Oh really?

He did not see her take tentative steps towards him, not until she was right under his nose, craning her neck to look up at him. 

“Are you weak-willed, my Prince?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

He scoffed, nearly laughing at the question. 

“I’ve already established I do not trust my mortality whilst in your presence… but could I trust my virtue in your—” she looked him up and down and tilted her head, “strong, yet nimble hands?”

Aemond pulled himself from the wall and grasped her bicep, “Let’s move before anyone sees how foolish you are.”

“Stop manhandling me! I’m the bloody Queen of the North! My husband, Cregan Stark, will not stand for this.”

At least he wasn’t dragging her along the floor, or carrying her over his admittedly sore shoulder. They continued to walk until the corridor opened up to large arches, showing the small courtyard below them. With his destination now in sight, he gently pushed her forward, ignoring her soft whines and complaints of the humidity. 

And then they reached a familiar corner, to a familiar flight of spiral stairs. That is when her feet froze. 

“No,” She spun around and tried to push through him. “I knew it– I knew I could not trust you–”

“Valeana–” he gripped her arms, oblivious to the reasons for her sudden distress. “Stop being difficult, we are almost there.” 

“This your plan, huh? Finish off what you started?”

A flash of confusion etched his features until he finally got a good look at exactly where they were. The prince’s shoulders tensed at the realization, and in that brief moment she managed to rush past him on wobbly legs. Aemond was quick to grab onto her wrist. 

“Let me go! Let go of me!” She yanked her arm, causing her sleeve to stretch and pull over her pale shoulder. 

“Valeana,” he pleaded, pulling her body against his, her back to his chest and her head tucked under his chin. Still holding onto her wrist, he folded their arms around her waist to keep her to him. “I am not trying to hurt you. I just want to see you safely back to your rooms.”

He couldn’t see it, but there were fat tears stuck to her eyelashes and rolling over her rosy cheeks. He couldn’t see it, but her left leg was shaking. He couldn’t see it, but she was baring and gritting her teeth as if she was preparing for the worst. But he could hear her sniffles, and feel her trembling fingers, and out of instinct he pulled her closer to him. 

“I’m not going to push you, Valeana.”

“You already did,” she replied immediately with a shaky breath. “Twice.” 

“That was…” He sighed through his lips, “That was a mistake.”

She slowly stopped fighting against him, and slumped in his hold like a sack of potatoes. He could feel her breathing harshly through her parted lips. 

“I’m not so sure, anymore,” her words were spoken so lowly, he almost didn’t hear her. “Let me go, Aemond. I’ll– I’ll find my own way.”

The prince was unwilling to do as she asked; he was frozen in his own body with no control of his limbs as they clung to Valeana Celtigar, afraid of letting her go. Afraid of seeing her leave him again. This was the first time in ten years that his arms have embraced her. She felt so perfect against his frame, it would be a sin if they parted, surely. 

She made a move to step away, to pry his arm from around her and leave, but the approaching footsteps and chatter of servants brought back reality. The hour of the nightingale was arriving, the dawn nearly here, and the Keep was starting to wake. 

With the sudden realization of how this looked (she disheveled, crying, with her dress tugged over her shoulder, and him holding her in a vice against his body), Aemond sprung back to sense and pulled her away from a potential scandal to both their houses. 

“We’ll go through the tunnels,” he went past the offending stairs and marched over to an alcove where a statue of the Maiden stood, surrounded by patterned tapestries. He pushed them aside to reveal a slender door, and then reached for a wall sconce, plucking the torch from its cradle. 

“Stay close,” he briefly released her to pull open the door. Billows of dust and a distinctive crack of wood told her it had been some time since this hidden passageway was used. Aemond arched his arm as he held open the door and gestured with a nod of his head for her to enter. 

Valeana hesitated of course, especially since all she could see was darkness before her. Though behind her was a maze of corridors and parapets that she would have to navigate on wobbly and sore legs. To avoid those spiral stairs, the way to the Holdfast was long and tedious. 

With a sigh of defeat, she bowed her head and slipped into the space, hands bracing the wall of the narrow fit. Aemond followed, shutting the door securely, and held the torch above their heads to shed light for their path. The narrow hallway went on for quite a while, forcing them to shimmy their way through. 

Valeana huffed and wiped her slick forehead with the back of her hand, “It’s hotter in here than outside.”

“You wouldn’t be so hot if you didn’t wear so many layers,” Aemond replied, eyes trained over her head, down the never ending passageway. It was a curious choice, given his knowledge of her aversion to heat. The dresses were lovely, and complimented her… assets well, but they were impractical in the south. Even highborn ladies at the Keep wore dresses with lighter fabric, forgoing petticoats and even chemises sometimes. Valeana’s dresses thus far had been wide and layered. 

“You’re right,” she surprised him with her answer, forcing him to glance down in time to see her exhale tiredly through pouted lips. The yellow glow of the firelight caused the sweat on the tops of her breasts to sparkle, making them look like giant pearls. 

Aemond swallowed thickly, then quickly diverted his attention to the endless abyss. He was taken back to the times when he was a lad on the cusp of manhood. Finding hair in places where there weren’t before, and waking up with a stiff member or wet bed sheets. Valeana was of the same age, going through similar but different growing pains, and they were difficult to ignore. Perhaps it was because of her weight, but Valeana’s breasts were always large – not nearly the size they were now, but bigger than most girls her age at the time. They’d pillow over the constraints of her dresses, and when she breathed heavily, the fabric would dig into the soft flesh… like it was doing now. 

The first time he stroked himself was to the memory of Valeana Celtigar’s breasts, wanting nothing more to place his cock between them. And then paint them with his spend.  

The narrow passageway started to widen when it started to decline, and the walls began to show small diamond shaped gaps in the stone wall that allowed a draft in. Valeana moved over to them and moaned satisfyingly. She threw her head back and allowed the gentle breeze waft over her arched neck and bosoms, forcing her reluctant guide’s eye to fixate on her. Then she started to unlace her bodice at the front, and something spiked inside him that felt like either panic or excitement. 

“What are you doing?”

“I told you, I’m fucking hot,” she pulled one string at a time, exposing the thin chemise underneath. The weight of her breasts were nearly free from the confines of the corseted top, practically spilling out. 

Perhaps it was panic. A sliver of pius upbringing that drove him to jerk his hand forward to stop her. The word ‘stop’ was on his lip as fear gripped his throat. Fear of what? Fear of being caught in a compromising position? Or fear of his desire? The fear of doing exactly what he implied his brother might do, had he been in Aemond’s place. 

Aemond’s splayed hand was upon her breasts in an instant. It had ceased her movements, yes, but it effectively backfired for him. The width of his palm was holding back the spill of her heavy chest, and his fingers slightly curled into the soft flesh through the muslin fabric of her chemise. His thumb hovered over her cleavage, which rose and fell rapidly, only now for reasons other than trying to breathe through humid air. 

Valeana looked down at his hand and then slowly raised her eyes to him. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down his apprehension. Her pupils were blown wide, and he imagined that his single violet eye looked similarly. Aemond was breathing through the gap between his lips, which made him instinctively flick out his tongue and run it along the chapped skin. That’s when he caught her eyes flickering from his gaze, down towards his mouth. 

The subtle motion emboldened him enough to finally move his thumb. His digit plunged between her breasts, immediately enveloped by their silky – albeit slick with sweat – and smooth embrace. The heat that stirred in his pelvis immediately clouded his judgement, but he kept still, waiting to see how she would react. When she didn’t move, he tested again by moving his thumb up and down the valley, and then over a mound. 

And then it happened. Valeana arched her back into his touch and an airy plea in the form of his name was pulled from her plush pink lips. That was when Aemond became completely undone. She won. His resolve and will crumbled, and he fell on his knees before her like a sinner at the feet of the Maiden.

Notes: I think we can all collectively agree Aemond is a tit guy.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[rose-morose]

well gang, I thinks it's time we had another chat about Kit from Jentry Chau vs the Underworld

this will be a lot less serious than the last post I made, it's less of an analysis and more just me gushing about how neat Chinese mythology is and my love of how it's portrayed in the show

if you only read one of my posts today, you should make it that one which can be found here

there is another post that someone else made about Kit and how his winged portrayal in the intro relates to Chinese mythology that you should totally check out and you can find it here

anyways...

(long spoilers under the cut as per usual)

I'm gonna preface this by mentioning that I am an aroace adult and I mostly hang out with queers, so I find most allo(especially teen hetero allo)romantic relationships to be cringe and weird, so when people are saying that the romance in this show is poorly written, I don't really see any difference between it and other romantic writing so I'll just defer to the popular opinion in this case

anyways, regardless of the quality of the romance, there is one point that everyone seems to agree on, and that is that Kit's violent and threatening behaviour towards Jentry after she rejects him in favor of Michael is seemingly uncharacteristic and entirely out of left field

now personally, I mostly agree and don't necessarily think that it was the best writing choice for his character, but I do think there is a pretty good explanation for this portrayal

so for those of you who don't know, painted skin is not a type or classification of demon in Chinese mythology nor is it the name of a demon, it is instead a reference to a short story titled "畫皮", which in English directly translates to "painted skin" where a single unnamed demon disguises itself as different humans by wearing painted skin over its demonic form

so a quick summary of the story is that a man finds an attractive homeless woman and agrees to let her stay with him and they have sex, his wife is upset by this affair but he won't change his mind, then one day he finds the door to his home locked, but when peering through a window he sees the pretty woman's skin with attractive features painted on to it separate from a horrible ghoul looking monstrous demon, the man panics and gets a charm to ward off demons from a Taoist priest but it doesn't work, enraged by the man's attempt to ward it off the demon kills him and rips out his heart, it then flees and pretends to be an elderly servant where the man's wife and the Taoist priest find it and kill it, then the man's wife brings him back to life somehow

now Kit's character being based off this story would of course draw many parallels between him and the demon from the story

he is seductive and manipulative, he is afraid of showing his true form, he pretends to be an attractive human to get what he wants, he becomes enraged when he isn't accepted, he dies at the end of the story, and he has historically killed people that do not accept him because he isn't human

setting his character aside, if you were purely going for a parallel to the original story, Kit's enraged and violent behaviour towards Jentry actually makes a lot of sense

however in this case, Kit is not exactly the same as the demon from the story, he is motivated by a want to be human, despite the fact that he has killed humans for centuries his method of killing is far less gruesome and impulsive, he requires qi from other living creatures to survive, he doesn't turn to smoke when he dies, he (mostly) voluntarily reveals his true form to Jentry, he never physically harms Jentry, and he does have actual feelings for Jentry (I actually can't remember if the original demon had feelings for the man but I don't think it did)

so while his behaviour makes sense when drawing parallels to the story, not having the context of the story and solely relying on information from the show makes it seem completely out of nowhere

and like I said, I think the show probably should have made this one of the parallels of the story that they ignored and it would have been better for his character to not be this toxic, but it doesn't ruin the show and is laregely resolved (but not necessarily justified or made up for) by Kit's sacrifice to save Jentry's life

additionally, since the original short story is the only recorded case of a demon wearing painted skin, I'm not sure if Kit is supposed to be the original demon or not

the demon's death at the end of the story would imply otherwise, but the fact that Kit has lived for centuries would place him in the right timeline for being the same demon, and the implication that it seems like he is the only one of his kind (I don't think his "parents" were meant to be painted skin demons but then again there is an entire painted skin entry in gugu's bestiary so maybe he isn't the only one) leaves no other options, and this all seems especially plausible if the story teller was exaggerating true events

and while the story demon is largely femme presenting in contrast to Kit's typical masc presentation (even in demon form), his ability to change his voice and appearance to match Jentry would imply that gender identity and sex are not limiting factors to his transformation

anyways I just thought it was a fun thing to think about, and it could explain certain writing choices that made less sense to the audience

I just love Chinese mythology and I love this show and how it uses that mythology to create complex and interesting stories and characters

not to mention the fact that I love the subversion of the "femme fatale"/"sexually promiscuous women are evil" trope/theme by instead making a (seemingly) male character also seductive and able to use his attractive features to manipulate people, and the idea that seductive and manipulative people are shown to in fact also be people that have their own complex motivations and dilemmas and who, despite their selfish behaviour, are not inherently "evil"

I mean, Kit even uses his looks to manipulate the fandom into not examining his character in an objective light /lh (just a joke please don't hurt me)

honeymoon phase still isn't over, so I still won't be examining this show quite in an objective light yet, but maybe one day...

anyways, thanks for putting up with my rambling, I love any opportunity to educate people on Chinese culture and mythology and this show is the perfect excuse to do just that

[dy6nsty]

Hiii!!!! 😝😝

I was thinking of a iii x reader where the reader is also a guitarist who plays for the band that opens for Sleep Token!! Like, he’d admire from afar at rehearsals and use their shared interests as an excuse to get closer, before he eventually has to confront the fact that he likes them!

Thank you so much!! I love your work ☺️☺️

══════════════════════

Of course my dove, and thank you ♥︎

III x GN!Reader. || ROM

══════════════════════

Recently, the band you were in was chosen to go on tour with Sleep Token. Promoting tickets, getting to know the band members, and more. It was fun and also a great opportunity to go on a trip/vacation.

The first day you and the other members arrived Australia and getting your thing settled in you always felt a pair of eyes on you. It was normal for a first time thing. People were awkward with first greetings and that was fine, you simply didn’t mind it.

You were chatting with one of the members known as IV, you mentioned that you played bass. To that he said they also have a bassist— as if you didn’t know that. But, you nodded and went along with it.

“He’s over there, III.” IV said proudly, pointing a finger over at III who stood still, calm and patient as everyone introduced themselves. You turned to stare at him. When you did IV was already beckoning him to come over.

The taller man made his way over, eyes glancing between you and IV. You returned it back, curiosity flowing over the both of you. “Y/n, nice to meet you, I heard you’re a bassist too?” You greeted him, extending a small hand which he shook hesitantly.

“I am.” He answered in a clear tone. The tension didn’t feel awkward, but neither did it feel as confident. You nodded, taking in his outfit. “I like your socks.” He looked down, checkered socks…

A faint laugh slipped from him as he nodded. “Thanks.” He replied with a smirk indenting through his mask.

.

. .

As you prepped up for the show/tour your interactions became more frequent. Talking about music, animals, plants, hobbies, dumb stories, scary stories, whatever there was to talk about you and him brought it up.

Rehearsal, he often came to watch— trying to be as subtle with it as he could. But it never worked, someone would catch him staring. Every time they did you’d give him a faint wave and a smile.

You couldn’t describe the way you felt about him, and neither could figure out how he felt about you. Smiling at your presence and memory, gushing and overthinking small things you do, the twinge of jealousy and guilt when others talk to you, his face flushing when you even slightly brush his shoulder. All of it was a mystery to him.

Now was one of those close moments. You and III in one of the rehearsals room when no one else was. It brought the two of you peace, basking in each others presence. Both guitars were set gently against the wall, sitting in your separate chairs, eyes on one-another.

“I actually listened to some of your music, you look good on stage.” He stared at you, the words hadn’t rendered in your mind, but you did mean them. He laughed softly, looking at you with interest and confusion at once.

“Yeah?” He asked. The words lingered through the air as your words finally came to conscious. “Yeah.” You answered back to him with a dumb smile, yet he liked that smile.

III dipped his head down than up, coming to acknowledge the affect your voice simply had on him. He turned his head away and cleared his throat, realizing he took to long staring at you. He didn’t know what to think now.

You sagged the guitar down as it dangled from your shoulders, straps around your body keeping it safe. “You’re impressive on stage. Playing guitar, acting out, all of it is amusing.” III felt his face heating up each minute you continued to compliment him.

What was he feeling? And why was he feeling like this?! He didn’t want to admit anything to you, nor did he want to believe he felt anything for you. His face red all the way to his ears, hands clammy, all he could do was nod slowly. You had this effect on him that he couldn’t speak. He was so—

Nervous. But a good nervous to that! Fuzzy feeling in the pits of his stomach and mind.

A shaky breath left his lips as he stared at your face. “Shit….” He muttered as he realized the predicament he found himself in.

You looked at him with a confused face, “Shit what?” You asked curiously. He shook his head and waved you off.

“I’ve gotta go, see you tomorrow?” He said as he got up, turning his head to you before he left the rehearsal room.

A smile, the smile he loved. You nodded and leaned back in your chair.

He should’t be trying to still keep this going, but you were addicting to him, stuck like honey and sugar to him.

He walked out of the room with a lovey smile on his face, chuckling to himself the more he thought about you.

“Fuck me…” He sighed.

He knew he’d be coming back to you in no time.

══════════════════════

[friendship-ditch]

Whumptober Day 13 - Multiple Whumpees

Platonic Boromir and Faramir x Fem!Reader ✼

Summary: Faramir thinks he's cursed, Boromir blames himself for it, you comfort them both.

Warnings/Notes: Just some family trauma. Also the prompt "family curse"

Word Count: 1279

 “Am I a curse?”

  Boromir winced at his brother's heartbreaking words, shaking his head.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I do not believe father would agree.” Faramir mumbled quietly in response.

  “No… he probably wouldn’t.”

  After Faramir got… let’s just say he got beat pretty good in training with his brother, Boromir realized the consequences that would soon follow. If Denethor even saw the tiniest splatter of blood on Faramir’s skin, the poor man would be verbally harassed and beaten down once more for being weak.

  In reality Faramir’s nose only began to bleed after a striking hit took Boromir out but the handle of his sword bounced back and hit him right in the face. Boromir would never willingly hurt his brother and would feel awful afterwards if it were an accident, but this was worrying too.

  “Stop staring.” Faramir muttered, a rag still held to his nose. The blood was slowing down from its pour but the bruise was incredibly purple and blue. Anybody could see it. “It doesn’t hurt. I’ll be fine.”

  “Father will have your head.”

  “Then he may have it. I’m sick of trying to fight him, Boromir. No matter what I do, the blame will always be on me. I’m the lesser–”

  “Don’t say that.” Boromir stopped him, smacking his leg in warning. “Stop. Just stop. We’ll figure this out.”

  With a huff, Faramir’s shoulders sank. His head dipped forward but more blood came gushing out so he picked it back up. “There’s nothing to figure out. Just let me accept the ridiculing and get it over with.”

  Boromir’s brow creased with worry. There was nothing more he hated seeing than the way his brother thought of himself after so many days of abuse from their father. He fought against it but whenever he stood up for Faramir things only seemed to get worse.

  “Maybe I’m the curse.” Boromir wondered aloud. When he felt Faramir’s eyes flick to him, he turned his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m the one you’re always compared to… the only one father sees, and I hate it because of how it makes you feel. It’s my fault father treats you this way.”

  “Now you’re the one rambling.”

  “It is true. Is it not?”

  “Well… you needn’t word it that way. It makes you sound like a monster.” Faramir took his turn to punch his brother gently in the arm. “Maybe we’re both cursed.”

  “Maybe…”

  The brothers offered each other a sad smile, one shared often in times like this.

  “I have a plan but you won’t like it.”

  “Always the mischievous one.” Faramir’s little grin was happier now, earning a tilt of his head. “What is it?”

  “Punch me. Then we’ll both be hurt and it’ll look like you got me good.”

  “You’re kidding right?”

  “No.”

  “I’m not doing that.”

  “Faramir…”

  “No! I’m not going to bruise your face up just to save me from a scolding.” Faramir crossed his arms and stood up. His nose finally stopped bleeding, the rag discarded on the bench he was once sat on. He began to pace. “There has to be another way.”

  “Another way for what?”

  Both of the brothers looked up as you entered the training hall, sleeves pushed up and hair tied back from a busy day of… who knows what. Then they exchanged a glance.

  “How willing would you be to punch me?” Boromir asked.

  A small smirk tugged at your lips. You’d been friends with the brothers for as long as you could remember. You were all practically siblings at this point. Punching Boromir was something you often warned about but never actually did because he didn’t deserve it. But if you were being offered…?

  “What’s the reason?” You asked, sitting where Faramir had been. 

  “I got hurt. Boromir thinks that if he’s hurt as well then our father won’t scold me.” The standing man explained. Disapproval was written clearly on his face, but also the slightest bit of hope.

  “Wouldn’t you just get in trouble for hurting Boromir then?”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Boromir joined it. “Would he really think that?”

  You and Faramir exchanged a glance. “Yes.”

  So, the idea was dropped. Although you were not at all opposed to it, you didn’t want to risk Faramir getting into any more trouble than he already would be.

  Eventually you all did head back into the main halls of Gondor and with one look at his wounded son, Denethor took him aside and wouldn’t let you or Boromir follow.

  You practically had to drag Boromir away from the locked doors. You brought him to Faramir’s chambers so the two of you could be there to comfort him after the inevitable… whatever would come from his father.

  You spent the time tidying Faramir’s things, though the room was incredibly neat, so your job mostly consisted of picking up the tiniest dust bunnies by hand and dumping them into the trash bin. Boromir made quick work of an old blanket he sat on, nails digging into the fabric like the claws of a kneading cat. He spoke not a word, eyes angled firmly on the ground as he silently took it out on himself.

  The silence was deafening. 

  When even humming didn’t help, you finally tried to strike a conversation with the suddenly reserved man.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Boromir didn’t lift his head, staring at a speck on the floor with such ferocity it should have melted by now. His fingers continued their rhythmic clawing at the blanket beneath him. “My whole family is cursed.” He muttered. “And it’s my fault.”

  “Elaborate.” You sat beside him, hand on his knee.

  “My mother was cursed with sickness… my father with madness. My brother is cursed with an unlovable father and it’s because of me. If I wasn’t here… there would be nothing for him to take out on Faramir. And when I stand up for him… it only gets worse.” Boromir whispered softly, voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. He’d clearly been thinking about this for a long time. The words began to spill out against his will. “There’s nothing I can do but sit back and watch my father destroy my brother and it destroys me too.”

  “It isn’t your fault.”

  “It is.”

  “It’s not.” You shook your head, squeezing his knee and then shaking it a little. “You’re not the one being cruel to your brother. You’re the opposite, you’re one of the reasons he’s still okay despite your fathers actions. If you were as evil as you seem to think, you would feel the same about Faramir as Denethor does.”

  Boromir looked at you, reading your eyes as though he was searching for any deception. When he found none, the anger in his gaze faded and he sighed, leaning his head against your shoulder.

  The two of you shared a few moments of peace when the door opened and Faramir entered.

  He was surprised to see the two of you in his chambers, eyes already red and lips tight from the encounter with Denethor. He hesitated at the doorway.

  You beckoned him over, patting the spot beside you.

  Faramir did as you said, settling at your side in the same position as Boromir. 

  “Neither of you two are cursed.” You murmured as you slipped your arms around their sides and pulled them into a gentle hug. “I promise. You just have an awfully shitty father.”

  This drew a chuckle from Boromir, and some sort of approving grunt from Faramir who didn’t trust himself to speak yet. You just squeezed them tighter and held them as close as you could. 

[cowboyemeritus]

Day 20

Prompt: Total Power Exchange

Pairing: Frater Imperator/Reader

Tags: total power exchange, oral and vaginal sex, manipulation, blood, murder

Notes: one of the more unhinged things i've written. i don't know where this came from... i promise i am a well adjusted adult

“You would do anything for me, wouldn’t you, agnellina?” You can’t answer him with his cock down your throat, so his fingers thread into your hair, gently tugging you off of him. There’s a small pop! when his tip finally passes between your lips. Kneeling on the floor, you look up at him with wide, adoring eyes, and nod, a bead of drool on your lower lip. How precious.

“Yes, Frater. Anything.” He already knows this, but your admission has arousal curling in his gut nevertheless. Imperator groans, using all the restraint he has to slowly guide you back onto him. He could be forceful, he could skull-fuck you, and you’d take it all without complaint. But his perfect, little lamb deserves better, especially given his plans. He can absolutely be cruel, and take great pleasure in doing so, but for now he must be a fair master. Doling out punishment when you’ve done nothing wrong would only hamper his efforts. He can’t afford to lose his grip on you.

You take him all the way to the hilt, your gag reflex having long since faded away. His hips jerk up into your mouth, but you remain pliant, made to receive him. Feeling almost gleeful, he sighs, reaching for the glass on wine on his desk and taking a long sip. As he does, Imperator eyes the antique, silver dagger resting nearby, and thinks about how easy it would be to slit your throat. His skin prickles, imagining the sensation of your hot blood gushing all over him, soaking into his new suit. It’s so vivid in his mind’s eye that he doesn’t notice the way you begin to shake from the lack of air.

Maybe someday, when you’ve fulfilled your purpose, he’ll lay you down on the altar and claim your life for the Old One. But until then, he must bide his time, stringing you along until he no longer has a use for you. He wonders if you would let him do it. Everyone has a breaking point; he knows this from experience. But you, always so willing to obey, have been the most perfect little pawn a man could ask for, taking what he has to give without question. Maybe you would offer your life to him. Just maybe, you would hold the blade to your neck and do it yourself.

Imperator is brought out of his reverie by the feeling of you starting to go limp. Not once did you try to break for air. He pulls you off of him quickly, letting your head rest in his lap. For a few moments, you don’t move. Once, he would have felt fear. Now, he just watches, silently, until you gasp, body jerking. Coughing and sputtering, you gulp down air, looking up at him with tears in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Frater,” you say between ragged breaths. Imperator puts on a sympathetic look, though his cock throbs at the sight of your misery.

“No, no, darling,” he coos, wiping away one of your tears. “I was careless. Let us try something else.” He gives you another moment to catch your breath, but quickly grows impatient. “Take off your underwear.” Of course you obey, stumbling to your feet to fulfill his command. You wobble dangerously as you reach under your habit, tugging your panties down and stepping out of them. Imperator nods approvingly, patting his thigh. “Come sit, facing me.” Still swaying, you all but collapse onto him, but manage to straddle his lap. He reaches under your skirt, finding you wet and ready. Your cheeks flush, whimpering from even the most simple touch. Imperator takes his shaft in hand, the other going to your hip as he lines himself up. He watches your eyes screw shut, your mouth hanging agape as he helps you sink down onto him. You moan quietly, starting to ride him just how he likes. He really couldn’t have found a better plaything.

“That’s good, agnellina. Very good.” The praise has you fluttering around him, and he grunts. “It is refreshing,” he muses, “having someone who listens to me for once. I am the head of the Clergy now, and still I must fight for even an ounce of respect.” He thinks of Psaltarian, the College of Cardinals, and his pompous new replacement, blood boiling. “Those bastards, if only they saw what you see in me.” 

“They’re fools,” you spit. “All of them.” As a reward, he angles his next thrust so that it hits that spongy patch of flesh, pulling a delicious moan out of you. “They’ll pay for disrespecting you, Frater.”

The image of bodies, piled in front of the altar, flashes in his mind. Suddenly, he finds his climax, gripping your hip hard enough to bruise as he forces you all the way down, pumping his seed into you. His other hand finds the back of your head, pulling you in for a brutal kiss. When the waves of euphoria abate he lets you go, chest heaving. He takes a moment to savor the sight of you, makeup smeared and lips swollen. What he wouldn’t give to see you covered in your own blood.

He waits for his breathing to settle before speaking again. “You are right, my love.” He’s never called you that before and your eyes light up, the devotion in them stronger than ever. “They will all pay.” He reaches for the dagger. You look afraid, then confused, when he takes one of your hands and wraps it around the handle. “You said you would do anything for me?” With only a little hesitation, you nod. Imperator smiles.

“Wonderful. I have an important task for you.”